Jurassic Earth Trilogy Box Set

by Logan T Stark

  “Good to hear it, mate. There’s a lot of people who were getting seriously worried about you. Glad you’ve decided to come back to the land of the living.”

  The Ebisu

  R eece awoke in panic to a wailing alarm. He gripped his seatbelt, his wildly slewing gaze fixing upon a master alarm light flashing on the helicopter control panel, which he immediately recognized as a low fuel warning. Tim didn’t appear the least bit flustered. His hazel eyes were shining as he admired a golden orange sunset, illuminating tangerine clouds above the rolling ocean to their right.

  “We’re approaching the Ebisu, Mr Skinner,” the pilot said over his shoulder, simultaneously flicking a switch to disable the alarm. “Prepare for some chop. The ocean’s cooling and thermals are patchy. Ebisu, this is Hoshi One, approaching from your north, vector two-zero-three at two-thousand. Requesting permission to land.”

  “We have you, Hoshi,” a woman replied in a Japanese accent. ‘Please route to shell pad. Locks disengaging. Be ready for wind shear. Gusting twenty from the west.”

  “Roger that, twenty from the west. Routing to shell pad. Hoshi out.”

  Beyond the cockpit windows, Reece spotted an oil tanker splitting white-crested waves that burst frothing spray that streaked from the vessel’s prow like a horse’s mane in a gale. The tanker’s three giant domes, jutting from the deck, were connected with a network of pipes that glowed salmon pink in the setting sun. Reece guessed the domes were pressurized containers for transporting natural gas. He pushed up in his seat to get a better view of the monster vessel punching a hole through the ocean.

  “That’s one big boat.”

  “Mobile command,” Tim answered. “Welcome to the Ebisu. International waters are about the last place on Earth we can operate without governments trying to kick our doors down and grab everything they can. Yamamoto industries is under attack like never before. The last few weeks have been brutal.”

  “Didn’t you say the stargo-jet was in a hangar at Area 51? That’s the other way,” Reece said, thumbing over his shoulder, “where we just came from, near Vegas. Not that I understand how the heck you think we’re supposed to waltz into the most heavily guarded military base on the planet, but what good are we gonna do on a ship all the way out here?”

  “Later,” Tim said tapping his headset. “You never know who’s listening. Everything we’re saying could be picked up, there might be subs in the area monitoring transmissions. Trust me, you’ll know everything soon.”

  “Same old Nori and Tim, an endless maze of secrets within secrets,” Reece said with a sigh, bracing against a renewed and aggressive wave of pounding nausea. “Oaaarruch, why does my head still feel like a urinal at a football game?”

  “You want me to answer that?”

  “No, I just want silence, inside and outside my brain. I just need it to stop hurting.”

  Movement caught the corner of his eye and Reece turned, his puzzlement overriding his sickness as the dome nearest the Ebisu’s bridge began moving, its shell opening like the petals on a flower, each segment sliding into the ship’s deck. As the helicopter swivelled and hovered over the opening void, the sheer enormity of the Ebisu struck.

  “Here we go, Alice,” Tim said, grinning in the half-light. “Down the rabbit hole part two, just this time we’re going deeper.”

  “I hate you.”

  The ship was easily upwards of a mile long. Indeed, as they descended, the tiny specks across the deck emerged as people, dwarfed by the stadium-sized domes and mammoth pipework. Reece could make out someone walking a dog, people jogging and dozens of dolphins surfing the wake streaming either side of the forging bow.

  Lights across the helicopter’s instrument panels brightened as they descended into shadow, into a disguised hangar inside the dome. The sound of the rotor blades reverberated loudly off the steel walls, streaked with rusty stains from years of weathering. Machinery squealed as the dome reversed its cycle and began closing above them, its petal segments steadily masking the final rays of the setting sun, which streaked through interlocking teeth on one side. As the last rays of daylight were eclipsed, a percussive crack boomed overhead and the chopper bounced down. The pilot began flicking switches to shut the aircraft down.

  “You ready?” Tim asked, rolling open the door, the decelerating whine of the blades filling the cabin.

  “If you’re asking if I need a shower, a hot meal and a bed for at least eighteen hours, with clean sheets and a soft pillow, then yeah. Don’t suppose you’ve got any more of those pills?”

  “Nah, fresh out, sorry. Come, walk with me. It’ll get the blood flowing, clear away some of those cobwebs.”

  “I doubt that. I may vomit on your shoes.”

  “Well, at least let me introduce you to the team. They’ve been protecting Yamamoto Industries’ interests and assets for a while now. A couple of them even ran security detail for the engineers who built the Jura base and the resort, the monorail and stuff back in time, you know. We’re sending them back with you as a precaution, but I don’t need to school you about the dangers of Jurassic Earth.”

  “I wish I’d gotten a handle on how completely insane it was before I sent Becca and a bunch of kids into it,” Reece said, jumping from the helicopter, the impact sending bolts of pain through his skull like an elephant had just trumpeted full blast in his ear. “Aaahh ha ha, the pain,” he moaned, resting on the helicopter and taking a few deep breaths. “Why does… Ach, getting there, why does it have to hurt so much?”

  “Shake it off, fella. Come on, this way,” Tim said, disappearing around the chopper.

  Reece followed gingerly, stepping light-footedly, his vision slightly askew. Ahead of Tim he saw a workshop with a group of men and women in navy blue overalls, checking weaponry and tinkering with robots that looked like beefed-up armored medieval horses. A woman was straddling the back of one of the equine robots, typing on a data pad connected to the machine as pistons in its legs hissed, lowering and raising the mechanical beast. Reece counted six robots in total, each with elongated glass domed heads in which gyroscopes span amongst various antennae, optics and knobbly bits he couldn’t identify.

  He recoiled as one of the horses reared to its hind feet and straightened tall like a Spartan warrior, its chest-armor gleaming in the fluorescent hangar lights. The machine’s optics pivoted and focussed on Reece and Tim. It lunged forward and tactical lasers painted the pair. Two multi-barrelled cuffs resembling Gatling guns were spinning up on what was now the robot’s wrists.

  “Fu... Get down!” Reece yelled, dragging at Tim.

  “It’s okay,” Tim said, steadying Reece’s hand. “It’s just saying hi.”

  Reece froze, looking on in stunned amazement as the robot’s breastplate parted, revealing a honeycomb lattice from which waspish drones ejected. Yet more laser lights beamed from the approaching buzzing drones, which scanned the pair up and down. The sudden swell of commotion and lights made Reece’s innards spin like the gyroscopes inside the robot’s domed heads. The small of his back flushed tacky with sweat and his vision moved like he was looking through jelly.

  “Don’t feel good,” he said, trying to supress a welling vomit.

  “Don’t worry, the warhorses won’t hurt you,” Tim said. “The team’s just putting on a show. The horses won’t attack people, they can’t unless specifically directed. It’s not in their programming.”

  “Warhorses? I’m talking about all the damn lasers in my face, but seriously, warhorses? They’re called warhorses? Well that doesn’t sound like the beginning of evil robots taking over the world,” Reece said sarcastically, swallowing an acidic uprising of nastiness. “Uch… would you stop with the damn lights! Man, Tim, I’m a mess. Tell them to stop.”

  “We’ll fix you and that can’t happen,” Tim said. “Come on, you’ll see.”

  The flying robotic wasps scanning the pair arranged themselves and projected floating 3D schematics into the air, displaying vital statistics on both R
eece and Tim, down to pupillary movement, blood sugar levels, platelet count, red blood cell count, BMI and heart rate amongst other things. Next to the schematic of Reece in which, unnervingly, he could see his lungs and heart pumping, a YouTube video of his Vegas antics began playing, but instead of the audio from the casino, the song There Once Was an Ugly Duckling played as he danced and gyrated like an idiot on a roulette table. Reece hung his throbbing head as the squad ahead roared with laughter, which although loud, failed to drown out the sounds of them slapping each other’s backs and high-fiving in celebration of their ‘hilarious’ prank.

  “I’m never gonna live this down am I?” Reece groaned.

  “Almost definitely not,” Tim said, laughing. “You’re a very fine swan indeeeed!” He continued, singing along with the ugly duckling song, one hand to his chest, the other flung out theatrically.

  “Ah, balls. This is gonna suck.”

  “Don’t be like that,” an Asian looking woman with a stitched nametag on her chest reading Fang called. “I promise, we’re going back with the best tech known to man. This mission won’t be our swan song.”

  More riotous laughter rolled towards him through the hangar.

  “Toucan play at that game,” a man with a nametag reading Fox added in a French accent. “Come on, man, cheer up. Don’t look so under the feather.”

  The squad were now laughing so hard some were clutching their bellies and struggling to stand. To Reece’s relief, the ugly duckling song ended. This did however amplify the echoing laughter. The only man who wasn’t laughing was a tanned athletic white-haired man with broad shoulders, bushy eyebrows, steely blue eyes and a hooked nose. He was perched on a workbench, talking to someone on a bulky satellite phone. He reminded Reece of an eagle; beaky and strong in a wiry sense, with a dangerously alert quality.

  “Fun’s over. My horses are not toys people,” the man announced in a booming voice, pushing the aerial on the satellite phone down and setting it on the workbench. “These are billion dollar pieces of hardware. Only children play around with that kind of money. Welcome aboard Mr Skinner,” the man said, moving to Tim and shaking his hand firmly. “Prep’s ahead of schedule. There are a few minor bugs, but nothing to worry about. Glad to report Aaditya’s ops are also going to plan. We’re pretty much zeroed and loaded, no dramas, no delays.” Reece offered a hand. The eagle-faced man glanced down momentarily, before turning away without attempting to disguise his disinterest. “Come on, I’ll show you,” the man continued, placing a leading hand on Tim’s back.

  “Can I first introduce you to Reece, Commander Blake,” Tim said.

  “I know who he is,” the Commander said, looking Reece up and down with contempt. He fixed Reece with an unyielding thousand-yard stare, which was exponentially more threatening at two yards. His penetrating eyes were sharp as icicles. “How the mighty have fallen,” he said shaking his head. “Yessir, you are a sorry sight indeed. A waste of fat and skin.”

  “What?” Reece said. “I don’t know who the…”

  “Listen, son,” Commander Blake interrupted, leaning aggressively into Reece’s airspace. “I know exactly who you are. You’re a loose cannon, dangerous. Your presence puts my mission and my team in jeopardy. My squad, these men and women, they come from all over the world. They work because they care about each other’s interests, because they have each other’s backs. They believe in unity. You only care about yourself. My honest to God opinion, they should’a left you to drink yourself to death in that flashy show-pad in Vegas. Son, if I said you were unimpressive, it’d be a big step up from my current position. I won’t offend Mr Skinner by voicing my actual thoughts out loud.”

  “Well, isn’t this lucky,” Tim said, smiling awkwardly at Reece. “Normally he’s aggressive and confrontational. We must have caught him on a good day.”

  “Your mission?” Reece said, his blood pressure rising as he squared up to the Commander. “Listen, don’t pretend you know me, that you have me figured. You don’t. I know I’ve made mistakes, but… but… I, but… but…”

  “Yeah, just as I thought,” Commander Blake replied, sucking his teeth in disgust, “but nothing to say and nothing to see. Look away whilst I act like a four-year-old. Maybe I’ll start trusting you when the bloodshot in your eyes, those booze filled piss bags in that numbskull of yours, turn white. Until that happens,” he growled, his eyes narrowing, “maybe it’s best you make like your theme tune and, quack, quack, get out of town little swan, because I will put you down in a heartbeat if you endanger my squad. I strongly suggest you consider scrubbing this worthless sack, Mr Skinner.”

  Reece felt utterly humiliated as the Commander strode away and snatched up his satellite phone. His squad were looking on, grimacing and wearing pained expressions that suggested pity, which only made Reece feel worse. The 3D schematic flickered out and the wasp drones returned to the honeycomb pockets inside the warhorse’s breastplate. The machine then dropped to all fours and the squad busied themselves awkwardly.

  “Chin up,” Tim said. “We chose everyone for a reason. We chose him because he’s no nonsense and gets people in and out alive. Agree or disagree with his methods and opinions, he gets the job done. For my part, I don’t think worse of you for going to Vegas the way you did after what happened. If I’d have known how bad it was for you, well, I’d have given you more support. I’m… in many ways I blame myse…”

  “I don’t need…”

  “We all need help sometimes, Reece”

  “I don’t need codling,” Reece said. “Just drop it.”

  “Sure, but I’ll always be your friend. Don’t ever think you can’t come to me. I’ve been around long enough to have a bit of wisdom knocking around in this old noggin. I’ve known you for years, Reece. I’ve watched you grow into a great leader, a brave leader, which you proved in spades when you saved those people on Jurassic Earth. You have something inside that most people will never have, a quality and strength that…”

  “So what’s that?” Reece said, changing the subject in order to tamp down a flurry of emotions he wasn’t ready to deal with, especially not in public. He cleared his throat, strode to a workbench, picked up a rifle and examined it. It didn’t look like anything he’d seen before and didn’t appear to have a magazine slot. Instead, there was an enclosed chamber above the trigger mechanism, which was encrusted with frost. He turned the weapon in his hands and saw three clear phials loaded into a cage on the hilt, each containing different colored liquids.

  “If you need anything you know where I am,” Tim said. “I gotta check in with the Commander, go over a few things, okay?”

  “Looks like some kind of ice gun, maybe,” Reece pondered, twisting the weapon as Tim took a few steps back before nodding and turning away.

  “I get it. I’ll give you some space.”

  “Molotov,” he wants to know about your gun, a dark-skinned woman with a name-badge that read Schweighofer said. She smiled warmly, walked over and butted Reece’s shoulder with hers. “Don’t let Blake get to you. He’s a hard ass with everyone. He called you son. When I first met him he called me a pathetic worm not fit to be used as bait. I’m actually kinda jealous.”

  “He also called me a whole lot of other things.”

  “My gun?” A hulking man said, grinning and rocking as he strode over, his muscular legs rubbing together. “That’s not my gun. That’s my weapon, this is my gu…”

  “Don’t,” Schweighofer said, cutting him off and holding up a hand. “It wasn’t funny the last hundred times and now it’s just boring.”

  “Damn, Schweighofer. Sometimes I think, if you were Jay-Z’s girl, he’d have a hundred problems. I’m just trying to put a smile back on my man’s face after he got his ass chewed,” the hulk of a man said, thumping Reece on the shoulder and plucking the rifle from his grasp with a huge paw. “My man! This is an M19 javelin Carbine. Brand new tech just off the line. The javelin harvests moisture from the air, which it freezes into ice darts tha
t are mixed with a microscopic amount of chemical that can either kill or temporarily paralyse. We don’t wanna hurt the little dinos unless we have to. No reloads. Endless ammo. Hooooooaaah!”

  “But there are three phials?” Reece said, pointing to the liquid containers at the butt of the rifle. “Is there a third firing option?”

  “Ha ha, good eyes. Like all good things, this little puppy has a happy mode. It mixes in a liquid that acts like C4, high explosive, a whole rocket launcher’s worth of punch. Kaboooom! See ya wouldn’t wanna be ya!”

  “Calm down, big man. Things would have to be really bad to use that,” Schweighofer said, giving Molotov a playfully concerned shake of the head then turning to Reece. “He gets excitable. Truth is, we’re unlikely to fire a single shot on Jurassic Earth. The javelins are for the Area 51 incursion mostly, to stun people, to put them to sleep. We don’t wanna hurt anyone. We’re not killers.”

  “You might change your mind on that,” Reece said. “On Jurassic Earth you might have no choice.”

  “That’s unlikely,” Schweighofer replied. “You saw the wasp drones in the warhorses? They were designed like wasps in the hope they might scare off dinosaurs. Across Africa farmers use beehives to protect their crops from elephants. It’s about the only thing that freaks them out. We figured it might work on dinosaurs. Nothing likes being stung, even big animals. It’s like a universal law of nature or something. The wasps are also great for recon work if they fail as a deterrent, so we can check areas before going in. We’ve covered all the angles.”

  “Dinosaurs are only the half of it,” Reece said. “There are things we didn’t even know existed until a few months ago. There are things out there from nightmares. Seriously dangerous shit. You think you’ve thought of the angles, planned for all outcomes, but you haven’t and you can’t. That’s the point, you don’t even know what to look out for. Everything wants to kill you, and a few ice darts or some tiny metal wasps won’t change that.”