"At the time, a tracking system was deployed across the park. Every dinosaur had an RFID chip implanted in its body."
"I remember," Claire replied, "but the dinosaurs in the Primeval Ecological Zone had their chips removed."
"Yes, that's true. However, we don't need chips to find them."
Mills leaned over the holographic interface, swiping across the glass surface. One after another, holographic wireframes of dinosaurs flickered into existence above the table.
"If we can gain access to that tracking system, it would significantly increase the safety and efficiency of our capture operation."
He displayed a simplified schematic of the target species before Claire, then straightened up to continue.
"We need your handprint to authorize access to the system. But what I truly need, Claire, is your help."
He swiped the screen, enlarging the icon of one specific dinosaur.
"Strictly speaking, relocating these endangered species is illegal, but we are doing the right thing. No one knows the layout of that park better than you do. We truly need your expertise."
He didn't address the icon immediately. Instead, he led with flattery, emphasizing Claire's indispensable role in the mission.
In the modern age, if an organization's entire success hinges on a single external individual, that organization is fundamentally flawed. Claire knew Mills had to have another motive, or rather, a specific request he was building up to.
"How many species can we save?"
Claire knew he had an agenda, but she didn't care. The priority was the rescue.
"On our end... at least eleven species. Naturally, we want to save more, but time is against us. Mr. Lockwood is currently in contact with another independent rescue organization, hoping we can establish a partnership."
As he reached the latter half of his sentence, his expression flickered for a fraction of a second. He quickly manipulated the console, drawing Claire's attention back to the holograms before she could catch the shift.
"I believe there is one dinosaur that will be particularly difficult for us."
Claire knew these icons by heart; she could identify them by silhouette alone.
"Blue."
"She has a name? I wasn't aware. But according to our specialists' evaluations, she has been unilaterally ranked as the third most intelligent creature on Earth."
He spoke rapidly, lowering his posture with a tone that bordered on a plea.
"Not to mention she has three companions who are just as cunning. We must bring her into protection."
Claire looked away from the screen and met Mills' eyes, her voice tinged with skepticism.
"She can smell you from a mile away. You'll never catch her."
Mills didn't back down. He pressed on:
"Well... we believe you know someone who can help. Perhaps you could convince him?"
So that's why you brought me here? Claire's expression darkened slightly.
…
Scritch, scritch, scritch—
A black fountain pen left a long, elegant trail of ink across the paper. The graceful Italic script was enough to make one whisper, "Artistic."
Samuel Francesco.
The man who signed the name was a muscular powerhouse with a scholarly aura. His thick beard and the faint scars tracing his heavy muscles added a touch of ruggedness to his refined demeanor.
Wearing dark sunglasses, he held the contract with both hands and respectfully handed it to the young staff member at the reception desk. The youth simply smiled, accepted the document without a word, and made a "please" gesture, directing him toward the lounge in the back.
"My turn! My turn!"
As the "Quiet Brute" departed, a lively voice rang out. A woman who looked to be in her late thirties approached quickly, pen in hand, ready to sign.
"Wait a moment, ma'am."
The young man stopped her, offering a cautionary reminder:
"This contract is essentially a death warrant. Have you truly thought this through?"
It wasn't a matter of gender bias; the woman simply gave off the vibe of a seasoned professional who likely had a stable career. Given her age, she probably had a spouse and children. The staff member felt obligated to speak up. Loving dinosaurs was one thing, but one shouldn't throw their life away.
"Of course I have. I wouldn't have hopped on a red-eye flight if I hadn't."
She knew the young man meant well. In a situation like this, only a villain would be eager for you to sign quickly.
"I see. My apologies."
The staff member bowed politely and gestured for her to proceed. However, the woman's talkative nature took over. She continued as she signed:
"One shouldn't encounter such breathtaking dinosaurs in their youth. My life... well, it's been ruined by these beautiful creatures."
Her sentiment struck a chord with the young man.
"Tell me about it! My Little Giga is invincible!"
The woman froze, looking up at the staffer. She couldn't believe those words, delivered with such raw fan-enthusiasm, had come from such a polite, unassuming face.
"Official... Official?!"
"Yep, that's me."
The staff member seemed to shift back into a more professional persona, his voice steady and reassuring.
"So, you're the former boss."
The woman smiled and returned to her signature.
It was now the turn of the "Primeval Zone, Giganotosaurus Sector, Official" to be stunned. You used to work under me?
He didn't recognize her, of course. To him, she had been just another anonymous employee who spent her days watching the Primeval live stream, tracking Carlo's every move. However, she had left a deep impression on Dr. Grant because of her... unconventional commentary.
"Oh my god, the way those two Ceratosaurus eat together is so romantic."
Yes, that had been her take on a bloody feeding frenzy.
"Here."
The "Tiger Lady" handed over the contract with one hand. Once the official took it, she didn't wait for further instructions, heading straight into the lounge as if she couldn't wait another second.
The official watched her leave, then began attending to the next volunteer, still trying to place her face.
Speaking of which, isn't America being a bit too quiet? Given their usual behavior, I've practically slapped them in the face, why hasn't there been a peep?
Well, better this way.
"Boss, you have a call."
Another staff member approached and handed him a phone.
"Hello?"
"Good afternoon. This is the office of Mr. Benjamin Lockwood. May I ask that you don't hang up immediately?"
Lockwood? He was also supposedly organizing a dinosaur evacuation, but why was he arranging for "those people" to go to the island?
The official clearly had his own intelligence channels; he had a rough idea of the personnel Lockwood was recruiting.
"Sure. Go ahead."
———————
Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over here ——— pa-tre-on.c-om/AlexandrusTL [remove the hyphen for normal access]