A/N: Hi Everyone. Thank you so much to the people who left a review or marked this story as a favorite, it was so amazing to see some people enjoying it so quickly. Unfortunately, as most of you will know, FFN's stats are still broken, so I have no idea who's reading this or how many people. If you get the chance, it would mean the world if you're able to follow, mark as favorite, or even leave a review, just so I have an idea if this is reaching anyone else. And as always, I'd love to hear what people think.
Thanks again to everyone who's already made their appreciation known. And now, on with...
Distraction Quantasaurus…
The butterfly continued to flutter like a lure, bobbing in the deep, calling her with every step. And with every step, K followed.
Her pace was quickening with every beat, her heart flittering with delight as the wings danced in elated reply to her pursuit. For a moment K would catch herself; childish glee spreading across her cheeks from the revelry of the chase, a feeling until now unknown, blossoming as it escaped its deeply buried prison. And every time, K would stop. She'd slow, insisting that this was merely for the benefit of the Soup, forcing herself to return to her natural, calculating demeanor.
And yet she followed still.
In those moments, as the insect's stain-glass wings vanished around a corner, K's hopes would sink in fear that she'd lost it. That her feeble excuse for selfish enjoyment had vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared. But at every turn, K would find it again, resting against the wall as if awaiting her, patient for her company and renewing her elated wistfulness.
With her hope restored, it would resume its flight, and K would begin the chase anew.
With every step, with every swing around the corner, her initial justification faded further into distant memory. The lie that she told herself, when first daring to grasp the few strands of happiness, became long forgotten among a swirling sea of blissful exhilaration. All that remained was the laughter, the exaltation of the friend that K had made as she followed its flight. It was the taste of freedom.
Even if it was only a semblance.
Was that what she envied so? Was that the true purpose of her pursuit? Did K, in this race of exhilaration, feel jealousy toward a creature of such simple intelligence; its lifespan so short it had nothing but the lone day it lived? Was she jealous of its liberty to move where it pleased? To simply… exist?
K had long left behind any area that she recognized, allowing the butterfly to lead her through the maze and deep into the bunkers of the Soup. At last, it reached the end of its journey, a passage blocked with nowhere else to fly. As K slowed to stop, the butterfly rested upon the doors with its golden wings calmly pattering, as if curiously awaiting her decision. One push was all it would take to continue. All K had to do was reach out to press against the wooden threshold, and the insect would fly free once more. The chase could begin anew.
K knew that by now she could stop. The creature was cornered and had already shown her new areas of the Soup, ones she'd never even dreamed of finding. The flaw that had led to its incursion remained undiscovered, but K had followed it for long enough to have detected many other security defects. Its function had been fulfilled; it was no longer necessary.
But then what could be done with it? As it was, it was a risk, a threat. K could list a thousand diseases it likely carried, just off the top of her head. Who knew what damage it could do were it to flutter further into the labs and expose those compromised to its pestilence? No; it could not remain.
And yet, as K's steps padded cautiously closer, her eyes fixed wide on the wings that softly beat to the rhythm of her heart, she hesitated. The reflection pranged at K's chest, surprised at the compassion that she was suddenly feeling toward such an insignificant creature. Its life was limited, likely mere hours to live even should K spare it. The thread she'd be cutting short had barely any length to begin with. It would be so easy to remove it, to lull it into false security and quash it beneath her hand. An act so quick that her victim would never notice its minuscule brain folding into its body. Between thoughts, if it even had any at all.
It would be painless.
But this creature had done nothing wrong, having stumbled into the Soup with only innocent curiosity. It was generous to even assume such deliberate awareness from a creature of so little intelligence; mere instinct the driver for its singular, existing day. And in its arrival, it had given K something she'd never known she'd longed for; all the wonders of color, joy, and hope.
And freedom; even if it was merely a sliver.
K owed this creature a debt; she simply could not end it now. Nor could she bring herself to trap it; to find a glass it and cage it within. To make it a prisoner to exist purely for the benefit of others.
Like her.
No, the only thing to do was set it free. Let it live a life better than her own. Live its life for her, however brief it may be.
The butterfly made no attempt to flee as K stepped closer with a cooling, calming breath. As if it knew that its fate was in her hands, that it was powerless to control the path she had chosen for it. Perhaps it gave no thought to it all, blissfully unaware of its destination and fully embroiled in the journey. Or perhaps it knew, without a shadow of a doubt, where K's heart truly lay. Of the only choice that she could bring her to make.
Like she'd always been destined to do it.
Whatever its reasons, whatever its awareness or understanding, the butterfly remained, wings slowly moving back and forth, back and forth; waiting. And then K pushed the doors, the lower edges of the panels gliding as the butterfly sprung to life once more. And then, beginning the chase anew, K followed it across the threshold.
-4 Hours to Judgement Day-
Benson lay flat on his back, heart racing as the neurons fired wildly through his brain. His position was far from comfortable, the ground harder than concrete and sizzling with the heat it had absorbed from the desert's radiating sun. But this was the way it had to be, their best chance of getting inside. Kyle was beside him, equally statuesque and uncomfortably close as they sheltered beneath the long metallic sheet. The only thing protecting them from the scorching heat and the naked eye.
All were in position, everything was ready. The only thing left to do was wait.
"Convoy's closing in," Trip warned through the piece in his ear. "Be ready."
Beside him, Kyle carefully raised a pair of circular devices, a black disk in each hand that hummed with electric current. With barely a moment, Benson took the chance to check the cables. His harness was connected to Kyle's through a triplet of carabiners, and both men had the same black disks strapped to their chests. It wasn't pretty, but it would have to do. While Kyle, Dana, and Carter had picked up an aptitude for the Magna-Clamps in their lightning practice, Benson was less confident. With little time for him to improve and the required timing needing to be near perfect, another decision was quickly made. Whilst Jen had again voiced the option of Benson staying behind, he was quick to rebut that with their scanners becoming less effective, it was all the more important that they had tech experience on the ground.
The compromise was for him to be babysat, which Kyle had loyally volunteered for. A link between the two sets of clamps was hastily jury-rigged, tethering both for the action, and then they were out of time. The team descended in the Shadow Winger, the team taking their positions on the ground while Eric prepared his, before beginning the agonizing wait on the desert road.
The display on Benson's visual scanner lit up, the lenses of the loaned glasses revealing the status of the other teammates. It would be their only clue to move when the final signal was given, and then it would all be down to how well Kyle could count.
The round began to rumble, vibrating as the multi-ton vehicles came into range and the growling engines began looming in the distance. Pebbles danced beside him, jittering in fear of the behemoths that would soon be upon them. The behemoths that those lying in wait were hoping to ride.
"Okay, they're nearly on you," Trip warned. "First truck is in thirty seconds, Jen."
"Copy that," came the reply. "Eric, you ready for showtime?"
"Jen, I was born ready."
"You're right, I shouldn't have asked. That's on me." Quite possibly the first quip Benson had heard Jen make. So, she did have a sense of humor. But her tone switched back to serious just as quickly. "Look alive people and remember your count. Engage on my mark."
Beneath the camo sheet, Benson shot a nervous look at Kyle. They were in for a penny, now it was time to take the pound. They needed game faces on because there was no backing out. Sharing a look, the two friends nodded and prepared to engage the clamps.
Just as the disk on Benson's chest suddenly died.
His heart stopped, eyes snapping down as the humming cut and the device lay lifeless on top of him. No!
Benon's hand slapped over it, fumbling at the jury-rigged wires in desperation to find the bad connection. Beside him, Kyle's eyes shot him an uneasy look, unable to reach and help lest he disturb the surface of the concealing sheet.
The rumbling was growing, quaking now with violent intensity as the trucks roared closer in full ownership of the road. The growling had grown to a thunderous bellow, seven trucks bounding across the desert and heading straight for the operatives lying cloaked in their path. Any second, the vehicles would be upon them, charging overhead and narrowing their window to seconds. If Benson couldn't fix it, then the team would clamp without them. Or worse.
He shoved the thought back, determined to not think what would happen if Kyle's disk engaged with his own in inactive, desperately fiddling with the wires in hopes of never finding out. Kyle clearly had the same thought, helplessly staring at Benon's panicked maintenance and the consequences unfolding in his mind as well.
"I'm calling it off," he tensely decided. "We're pulling out."
"I can do it!"
"Julian, if it's not working when the last truck hits…"
"I can fix it!"
He hoped.
He was halfway around, so far all the wires were confirmed in the correct position. Only a few more to go…
Then the first truck hit.
It was barely an instant, a black flash cracking overhead at violent speed. The force of the wind slammed down, flushing across them and rippling at the seams of the sheet.
Come on! Come ON!
The second rushed above as Benson found the wire. The thin strand of copper loosened from the sheath, protruding to sit slack in the port. He just needed to get it back and refix the clamp. And then desperately hope it would be enough.
"CUT THE POWER!" he roared beneath the engines. "TURN IT BACK ON WHEN I SAY!"
"First car's nearly at the front, Jen," Trip warned them. "I'm counting you all down."
Benson jammed the wire in place, a small spark kicking from the device as the humming died completely.
"3…"
The clamp slammed down, gripping the wire and the last of the hope.
"2…"
Benson's elbow rammed Kyle's ribs, faster than a call in a desperate hope to reengage.
"1…"
Kyle flicked the power, restarting the sequence just as Jen took over to bellow the order.
"NOW!"
Devices sprung to life, and in the breath of a heartbeat, Kyle squeezed the clamps to the thundering shadow above. Benson barely had time to hope when the pair were violently ripped from the road, slamming into the undercarriage like bugs into a windshield. Compared to the giant trucks, their bodies were insignificant, yet the pads still made deafening clangs as the magnets latched beneath.
Pressed against the grimy, reverberating metal with his hand still slapped to the troubling wire, Benson dared a look over his shoulder. Squeezing the clamp strapped to his chest and clinging for dear life, a gasp of relief and astonishment left him as the ground ripped into a blur beneath.
Just in time.
In the corner of his vision, six lights had flicked from red to green to confirm all clamps had engaged.
"I'm locked on," Jen confirmed. "Sound off."
"Wes here; clamped on tight."
"This is Carter, rolling down the highway."
"Dana reporting in, Rescue Ready."
"Kyle Mason," Kyle announced almost yelling into the com over the beating winds. "Got Benson, just in the nick of time."
"Eric, the package is loaded," Jen announced, clearly choosing not to ask what Kyle meant. "You're clear to engage."
And engage he did.
The ground boomed with a heart-stopping quake, a tremor so strong that the mult-ton truck flinched in its journey. Then it quaked again. And then again. Out in the open, the convoy continued to roll; either unaware or uncaring of the source of the disturbance. But that quickly changed when the air was filled with a blood-curdling roar, and Quantasarus Rex burst out into the desert.
It had lurked in the gap between the mesas, positioned to lunge once the team had engaged. Eight and a half thousand tons of mechanized dinosaur roared out into the plain, stampeding at top speed for the convoy's front. The lead car swerved to avoid the monstrous machine, dust flaring upwards as it skidded away from the road. The other vehicles had more time, directions sharply twisting to avoid a pre-historic collision.
But the Quantasarus wasn't letting them go that easy. The cars had barely readjusted their positions when the dinosaur swung around, its enormous tail crashing into the earth behind the zooming vehicles.
"Jesus, Eric!" Wes swore. "Are you forgetting that we're on these things?"
"You want it to look good, don't you?"
"Just try not to enjoy yourself too much," Jen retorted from the front car. "We still need to be in one piece when we make it inside."
Benson's grip tightened further, knuckles going white as he clung for dear life and lurched beneath the violently swerving vehicle. Suddenly dropping to the road at top speed was the furthest of his fears. Not when an over-enthusiastic Quantum Ranger could flip the car with him still attached.
Or step on it.
Benson gulped down as another terrifying thought hit him. In hindsight, it was just as well he'd fixed the clamp. Had they called it off, they'd still be out in the open on the desert floor, lying flat and vulnerable. Unable to retreat in fear reveal exposing their plan, they'd have been an invisible bug, helpless to be squashed beneath the rampaging Quantasaurus. Benson then made a mental note to never tell Jen just how lucky they'd been. It would only validate her opinions further.
The dust was kicking up, a suffocating cloud swirling beneath the undercarriage. "We've got a lot of sand down here!" Kyle warned. "I think they're going off-road!"
"Eric, they're going wide," Trip confirmed. "Try to corral them, stop them from scattering."
The only reply was gleeful laughter, followed by an earth-shattering boom. And then another far greater. The whole truck rocked side to side as the cannon blast exploded out front, dust flushing under the carriage as sand erupted from beneath the tires. As Benson and Kyle held tight, the entire vehicle spun across the desert ground, tires screeching against the earth as the driver desperately tried to redirect.
It stopped, only for a moment, the only chance for Benson to allow his heart to slow. Then the engine roared and fired down the desert road, as fast as its axels would allow. The ground was a blur, streams of pebbles vanishing into distorted lines as the dust cloud consumed the undercarriage.
"Great work Eric, they're all moving," Trip congratulated from above. "Time to give chase."
"Happy hunting," Lucas added with a chuckle.
"Remember you need to push right up to the gate!" Jen reminded. "We can't risk them stopping outside!"
But Eric's reply was so cocky and eager that it added far more to Benson's worries than it took, "Oh don't worry, I'll give them plenty of problems."
As it roared from behind, the Quantasaurus lunged after them, tearing across the sands as the vehicles fled at top speed. All Benson could do was hold on, hoping they'd survive the journey.
"Coming up on the compound," Trip warned them. "Eric, get ready for some resistance, looks like they're already mobilizing defenses."
"Keep a tight watch on the trucks, Trip," Jen ordered. "We need to know when we're clear to drop."
As best he could anyway; Benson had to admit that of all parts of the plan, this was what made him the most uneasy. Unable to see the personnel on the scans and strapped beneath the vehicles, they'd have no way of knowing how secluded their exit would be.
All they could rely on was hope.
There was a whoosh past the truck, something large bolting past, its velocity strong enough to rock the passing vehicle in transit. Then they hit a bump, the whole frame jolting as Benson's neck whiplashed and strained to avoid collision with the undercarriage.
"You're in!" Trip exclaimed. "Wait for my mark to disengage!"
With the battle raging behind them, Benson felt his whole body slacken in relief. Against all odds, they'd made it. Now, the mission had truly begun, and they'd passed the point of no return.
The trucks slowed, pulling to a more reasonable pace as they steered deeper into the compound. But for all the feet that Benson saw flashing past the truck, he heard no voices. No yells, no commands. Just boots on the ground and moving bodies. He hoped, desperately, that it was purely because of the deafening engine above. In the distance, the Quantasaurus roared again, this time met with the screeching of tires and the sounds of laser fire. The soldiers of Area 51, it seemed, were well prepared to fight back.
"Alright Eric," Trip warned. "Time to back off."
"Negative!" Eric rebutted. "If I pull back now, they'll know something's up. I need to give them a show."
"You're not seeing the number of trucks coming your way," Trip insisted. "They could be a real problem."
They didn't have time for this; Eric's bull-headedness was distracting Trip from signaling the disembark. But Eric also had a point, one that Jen was quick to adopt.
"Eric, hold them as long as you can, but don't go crazy; you only need their attention long enough for us to get a foothold. Trip, where are we on that drop-site?"
"They're winding to a backlot of warehouses," Trip instructed. "Looks like they're taking you to a motor pool."
"Then get ready to jump people," Jen warned them. "We could be in for a hot exit."
The sounds of the battle slowly dulled as the motorcade drove further from it, now winding at a more comfortable speed to their destination. Finally, signaled by the squealing breaks and crunching tires, the truck rocked to a stop. Then their plan returned to waiting.
An eternity passed, no one certain of when would be the right time to move, save for the small glimpses their narrow vantage offered beneath the vehicles. They seemed to be parked parallel to warehouses, and Benson hoped that they'd provide enough obscurement when it was finally time to roll out. With the eyes in the sky blind to all but the largest of movements, hope was the best they could do.
"No one up top," Jen informed. "Who's in the bottom car."
Beside him, Kyle wheezed as he tried to turn his head and look below his feet. "We are. Looks clear on our end too."
"Alright, disengage clamps and roll toward the warehouse. Let's keep this quiet."
Kyle nodded to Benson, the doctor unplugging the desperately clutched wire as the soldier hit the triggers. The magnets hissed, relinquishing their hold on the undercarriage and dropping them onto the hard concrete. Still attached by their makeshift arrangement, Kyle unwound the equipment from his body before looking back at a considerably more tangled Benson.
"You get to the others," Benson insisted. "I'll catch up."
Unhappy but accepting, Kyle swiftly rolled out from beneath the vehicle as Benson battled with the wiring and cables. It had seemed like such a good idea up top, connecting a pair of units to tether two people. Now it was causing more problems with every turn. He could hear the hushed whispers up ahead, and whilst Benson was unable to make out the words, Jen's impatient tone of disproval growled through every syllable. Of all the people that could have made them wait, it had to be him.
Finally free of the messy cabling, Benson pulled himself from the mess and at last rolled out into the open. He stopped on his belly, hands flat on the ground as he stared up at the rest of the team, kneeling and huddled at the front end of the motorcade. Cautiously, Benson pulled himself to crouch.
And that's when the hand grabbed him from behind.