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fredbassettTitle : Whispering Island, Part 7 of 8
Author : fredbassett
Fandoms : Primeval & Enid Blyton’s Famous Five books
Rating : 15
Characters : Stephen/Ryan, the Kirrin family and dog
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count : 17,620. This part 1,768.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Stephen and Ryan get the chance to spend a weekend on a private island off the south coast.
A/N : 1) For full author’s note see Part 1 2) Links to previous parts Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6.
A low growl from Timmy brought Ryan instantly out of a light sleep, doing the same for George, Dick and Stephen, while Julian and Anne slept on.
Dick met Ryan’s eyes and the older man gave a shamefaced grin. “Falling asleep on stag. I’ve busted guys for that.”
“So have I,” Ryan admitted. You’d fail the course at Sandhurst for sleeping on sentry duty. It was a good job they had their own hairy early warning system.
Once he’d alerted them to movement outside the burrow, Timmy fell silent again at a low word from his owner.
A long, dog-like snout sniffed curiously at the air. No doubt the animal was picking up something unusual in the vicinity, but the animals were young and had no prior knowledge of human beings, so had not yet learned any fear response. The animal came out of the burrow slowly, alert for any danger. The twitching muzzle was lowered to one of the chunks of corned beef. A cautious bite followed and in a few moments, the animal had wolfed the meat down, making happy yips that soon alerted the other two. The creatures fell on the other lumps of meat and had soon devoured the lot. Watching the animals competing good-naturedly for the large piece of ham, which ended up being pulled into more or less even chunks brought a smile to Ryan’s face. They looked like nothing more than overgrown puppies. It was hard to believe that they would grow into something as large and formidable as the animals that had so relentlessly pursued him and Blade through a pine forest in Wales.
Once they had eaten all the meat, the amphicyons lolled around in the warm sun, stretching comfortably. After a while, two of them engaged in an energetic play fight, watched by the smaller and thinner of the three. Ryan had noted how the animal’s injured leg clearly pained it. Its attempts to walk on three paws were made awkward by the way the broken leg dragged on the ground, the bones probably half set at a bad angle.
“That’s going to need amputating,” Stephen said quietly.
George shot him a hard look, clearly still thinking that there was a good chance that the animals would simply be killed.
“You can trust us,” Ryan said. “I’m under orders only to use lethal force as a very last resort.”
Dick Kirrin raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“You haven’t met Professor Nick Cutter,” Ryan said. “When he’s roused he’s got a voice on him that Sergeant MacRae would have been proud of.” His old RSM at Sandhurst had been one of the scariest fuckers Ryan had ever met.
Dick laughed. “Can he drink as much Scotch as well?”
“He certainly bloody can.” Ryan had gone head to head with Cutter once over a bottle of whisky – or several – and the hangover had lasted two days. It wasn’t an experience he was keen to repeat.
“They’re off down to the stream for a drink,” George said, as the three creatures suddenly stopped playing and ambled away along a rough path that led down to the shore.
“Well, we’ve established that they like the food,” Stephen said. “As soon as we can get some back up here from the mainland, it’s not going to be too hard to net them and tranq them. We can rig a net up somehow from the rocks; it won’t be too much of a problem. I don’t see that we need to worry too much about them doing a disappearing act. That burrow hasn’t been dug recently, so they’re obviously established here. I suggest we leave them some more meat for when they come back.”
They left the contents of three more corned beef cans outside the burrow and made their way back to the courtyard. As they walked, Stephen had been casting around in the woods like a dog on a scent and, to Ryan’s relief, appeared confident that nothing larger than the three youngsters had come through the anomaly, so they could reasonably sleep easy in their tents later that night. The amphicyons had full bellies for once and no need to go hunting.
As soon as they reached the ruined castle, Julian promptly declared that the sun was over the yardarm somewhere in the world and produced several cans of beer from a cool bag. Ryan wondered what strange concoction was likely to be offered up for the evening meal, and he hoped it didn’t involve any more tins of fruit mixed with baked beans. That had been bad enough to watch, and he certainly had no intention of eating anything along those lines. To his relief, Anne produced several large packs of sausages and proceeded to expertly fry them over a small camping stove.
Bread rolls were produced to go with them, while onions stewed in a pan on a second stove. As far as Ryan could tell, all the onions had been pre-sliced and bagged up, so this was clearly a well-established ritual. For every sausage he ate, another one found its way to Timmy, even though the dog had already wolfed down a large heap of biscuits.
The ginger cake they’d brought up from their camp was divided into seven equal parts and washed down with nightcaps of gin and ginger beer. The conversation had flowed easily throughout the meal and Ryan had learned that Julian worked at Thames House, the headquarters of the Security Service. MI5, to the tabloids. No surprises there, then. Dick’s activities seem to consist of providing an advisory service to anyone rich enough to pick up the no doubt expensive tab. Anne probably earned more than the pair of them put together, which was hard to reconcile with the cheerful way she dished up some of the strangest meals Ryan had ever seen eaten, and there were times when George seemed the most normal of the bunch. From some of the remarks she’d made, Ryan had gathered that she lived in Poole, with her partner – in both senses of the word – a riding school teacher called Ruth, who was running the weekend activities in George’s absence.
At Dick’s suggestion, Ryan and Stephen had brought their tent into the courtyard for the night. The dent it would put in their love lives was probably minor set against the possibility, however slight, of a run in with the young amphicyons while they slept. Ryan saw no point in taking unnecessary risks. George was no doubt right in her claim that if anything more threatening than a squirrel came into the courtyard then Timmy the Fourth would act as a very effective early warning system. The dog might have a lop-sided grin and distinctly asymmetrical ears, but he was intelligent and loyal, and that was enough for Ryan.
* * * * *
Ryan unzipped the tent and slipped out, leaving Stephen still sleeping. He wasn’t particularly surprised to see Dick Kirrin perched on top of one of the stone lions in the entrance to the courtyard, Timmy sitting next to the lion, looking like a smaller and scruffier cousin of the stone king of the jungle.
It was 6.15am.
“Pulled an all-nighter, sir? I would have been happy to take my turn.”
“I always liked night watches.” Dick reached down and ruffled Timmy’s ears. “Besides, he likes the company. Dunno how George manages it. Every one is damn nearly the spitting image of the last. Almost makes me believe in reincarnation.”
Ryan stared at the big dog who grinned up at him, brown eyes almost laughing. “Not much stranger than dealing with dinosaurs on a daily basis.”
“I suppose not.” Dick sighed. “I just wish the bloody bean-counters would authorise more back-up for you. Can’t run a bloody operation like yours on a shoestring, and there’s no point in giving you a bloody great big building and then whining about staffing costs.”
“I thought the funds they’d got their hands on from Mason’s accounts were going to help.” The billionaire entrepreneur who had died on the wrong side of an anomaly on one of his own two million pound a person hunting trips had effectively bequeathed them a private zoo and a seemingly ever-open gateway to a positive spaghetti junction of anomalies as well as a potentially bottomless bank account.
“They will, eventually, but the Ministry of Justice has been whinging about ‘proper channels’ and there’s the usual turf war going on behind the scenes. But if you’re lucky, you’ll get that helicopter Lester wants before Christmas, but just remember to look surprised when he announces it. It turns out Mason had a private chopper as well as a private jet. Kept ‘em both at Gatwick. The heli pad at the Hall was a bit of a giveaway.”
That would make a hell of a difference when they had to get somewhere in a hurry. “Thanks for fighting our corner.”
Dick laughed. “Thank James Lester. He’s been the one doing the most of the fighting. The man has the morals of a syphilitic stoat and the balls of a wolverine when it comes to a scrap.”
Ryan grinned. The major clearly knew Lester.
The early morning sun was spreading bands of warm apricot across a gunmetal grey sky, holding the promise of another day like the one they’d just enjoyed.
“What’s the view like from the tower?”
“Pretty spectacular on a day like this.” Dick jerked his head in the direction of the doorway that led to a stone staircase. “Want to take a look? I imagine Timmy will be happy to hold the fort.”
The spiral staircase was crumbling in places but still serviceable. It opened out onto the top of the battlemented tower, giving an excellent view over the ever-whispering trees. The top of the grey crag that he’d climbed the previous day with Stephen and George was visible. He wondered how much difference the food they’d left had made to the young bear-dogs. He’d be surprised if the younger one could ever be reintroduced to its natural habitat given the damage its leg had sustained, but that would be a decision for Abby to take. It would be his job to make sure that the animals were rounded up with no danger to any members of the capture team.
The emerging sunlight was sparkling on the crag, dancing on the rock like white fire… No, it bloody well wasn’t…
Ryan pulled out the compass he carried with him at all times as a matter of habit now.
The needle swung lazily to and fro.
Author : fredbassett
Fandoms : Primeval & Enid Blyton’s Famous Five books
Rating : 15
Characters : Stephen/Ryan, the Kirrin family and dog
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count : 17,620. This part 1,768.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Stephen and Ryan get the chance to spend a weekend on a private island off the south coast.
A/N : 1) For full author’s note see Part 1 2) Links to previous parts Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6.
A low growl from Timmy brought Ryan instantly out of a light sleep, doing the same for George, Dick and Stephen, while Julian and Anne slept on.
Dick met Ryan’s eyes and the older man gave a shamefaced grin. “Falling asleep on stag. I’ve busted guys for that.”
“So have I,” Ryan admitted. You’d fail the course at Sandhurst for sleeping on sentry duty. It was a good job they had their own hairy early warning system.
Once he’d alerted them to movement outside the burrow, Timmy fell silent again at a low word from his owner.
A long, dog-like snout sniffed curiously at the air. No doubt the animal was picking up something unusual in the vicinity, but the animals were young and had no prior knowledge of human beings, so had not yet learned any fear response. The animal came out of the burrow slowly, alert for any danger. The twitching muzzle was lowered to one of the chunks of corned beef. A cautious bite followed and in a few moments, the animal had wolfed the meat down, making happy yips that soon alerted the other two. The creatures fell on the other lumps of meat and had soon devoured the lot. Watching the animals competing good-naturedly for the large piece of ham, which ended up being pulled into more or less even chunks brought a smile to Ryan’s face. They looked like nothing more than overgrown puppies. It was hard to believe that they would grow into something as large and formidable as the animals that had so relentlessly pursued him and Blade through a pine forest in Wales.
Once they had eaten all the meat, the amphicyons lolled around in the warm sun, stretching comfortably. After a while, two of them engaged in an energetic play fight, watched by the smaller and thinner of the three. Ryan had noted how the animal’s injured leg clearly pained it. Its attempts to walk on three paws were made awkward by the way the broken leg dragged on the ground, the bones probably half set at a bad angle.
“That’s going to need amputating,” Stephen said quietly.
George shot him a hard look, clearly still thinking that there was a good chance that the animals would simply be killed.
“You can trust us,” Ryan said. “I’m under orders only to use lethal force as a very last resort.”
Dick Kirrin raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“You haven’t met Professor Nick Cutter,” Ryan said. “When he’s roused he’s got a voice on him that Sergeant MacRae would have been proud of.” His old RSM at Sandhurst had been one of the scariest fuckers Ryan had ever met.
Dick laughed. “Can he drink as much Scotch as well?”
“He certainly bloody can.” Ryan had gone head to head with Cutter once over a bottle of whisky – or several – and the hangover had lasted two days. It wasn’t an experience he was keen to repeat.
“They’re off down to the stream for a drink,” George said, as the three creatures suddenly stopped playing and ambled away along a rough path that led down to the shore.
“Well, we’ve established that they like the food,” Stephen said. “As soon as we can get some back up here from the mainland, it’s not going to be too hard to net them and tranq them. We can rig a net up somehow from the rocks; it won’t be too much of a problem. I don’t see that we need to worry too much about them doing a disappearing act. That burrow hasn’t been dug recently, so they’re obviously established here. I suggest we leave them some more meat for when they come back.”
They left the contents of three more corned beef cans outside the burrow and made their way back to the courtyard. As they walked, Stephen had been casting around in the woods like a dog on a scent and, to Ryan’s relief, appeared confident that nothing larger than the three youngsters had come through the anomaly, so they could reasonably sleep easy in their tents later that night. The amphicyons had full bellies for once and no need to go hunting.
As soon as they reached the ruined castle, Julian promptly declared that the sun was over the yardarm somewhere in the world and produced several cans of beer from a cool bag. Ryan wondered what strange concoction was likely to be offered up for the evening meal, and he hoped it didn’t involve any more tins of fruit mixed with baked beans. That had been bad enough to watch, and he certainly had no intention of eating anything along those lines. To his relief, Anne produced several large packs of sausages and proceeded to expertly fry them over a small camping stove.
Bread rolls were produced to go with them, while onions stewed in a pan on a second stove. As far as Ryan could tell, all the onions had been pre-sliced and bagged up, so this was clearly a well-established ritual. For every sausage he ate, another one found its way to Timmy, even though the dog had already wolfed down a large heap of biscuits.
The ginger cake they’d brought up from their camp was divided into seven equal parts and washed down with nightcaps of gin and ginger beer. The conversation had flowed easily throughout the meal and Ryan had learned that Julian worked at Thames House, the headquarters of the Security Service. MI5, to the tabloids. No surprises there, then. Dick’s activities seem to consist of providing an advisory service to anyone rich enough to pick up the no doubt expensive tab. Anne probably earned more than the pair of them put together, which was hard to reconcile with the cheerful way she dished up some of the strangest meals Ryan had ever seen eaten, and there were times when George seemed the most normal of the bunch. From some of the remarks she’d made, Ryan had gathered that she lived in Poole, with her partner – in both senses of the word – a riding school teacher called Ruth, who was running the weekend activities in George’s absence.
At Dick’s suggestion, Ryan and Stephen had brought their tent into the courtyard for the night. The dent it would put in their love lives was probably minor set against the possibility, however slight, of a run in with the young amphicyons while they slept. Ryan saw no point in taking unnecessary risks. George was no doubt right in her claim that if anything more threatening than a squirrel came into the courtyard then Timmy the Fourth would act as a very effective early warning system. The dog might have a lop-sided grin and distinctly asymmetrical ears, but he was intelligent and loyal, and that was enough for Ryan.
* * * * *
Ryan unzipped the tent and slipped out, leaving Stephen still sleeping. He wasn’t particularly surprised to see Dick Kirrin perched on top of one of the stone lions in the entrance to the courtyard, Timmy sitting next to the lion, looking like a smaller and scruffier cousin of the stone king of the jungle.
It was 6.15am.
“Pulled an all-nighter, sir? I would have been happy to take my turn.”
“I always liked night watches.” Dick reached down and ruffled Timmy’s ears. “Besides, he likes the company. Dunno how George manages it. Every one is damn nearly the spitting image of the last. Almost makes me believe in reincarnation.”
Ryan stared at the big dog who grinned up at him, brown eyes almost laughing. “Not much stranger than dealing with dinosaurs on a daily basis.”
“I suppose not.” Dick sighed. “I just wish the bloody bean-counters would authorise more back-up for you. Can’t run a bloody operation like yours on a shoestring, and there’s no point in giving you a bloody great big building and then whining about staffing costs.”
“I thought the funds they’d got their hands on from Mason’s accounts were going to help.” The billionaire entrepreneur who had died on the wrong side of an anomaly on one of his own two million pound a person hunting trips had effectively bequeathed them a private zoo and a seemingly ever-open gateway to a positive spaghetti junction of anomalies as well as a potentially bottomless bank account.
“They will, eventually, but the Ministry of Justice has been whinging about ‘proper channels’ and there’s the usual turf war going on behind the scenes. But if you’re lucky, you’ll get that helicopter Lester wants before Christmas, but just remember to look surprised when he announces it. It turns out Mason had a private chopper as well as a private jet. Kept ‘em both at Gatwick. The heli pad at the Hall was a bit of a giveaway.”
That would make a hell of a difference when they had to get somewhere in a hurry. “Thanks for fighting our corner.”
Dick laughed. “Thank James Lester. He’s been the one doing the most of the fighting. The man has the morals of a syphilitic stoat and the balls of a wolverine when it comes to a scrap.”
Ryan grinned. The major clearly knew Lester.
The early morning sun was spreading bands of warm apricot across a gunmetal grey sky, holding the promise of another day like the one they’d just enjoyed.
“What’s the view like from the tower?”
“Pretty spectacular on a day like this.” Dick jerked his head in the direction of the doorway that led to a stone staircase. “Want to take a look? I imagine Timmy will be happy to hold the fort.”
The spiral staircase was crumbling in places but still serviceable. It opened out onto the top of the battlemented tower, giving an excellent view over the ever-whispering trees. The top of the grey crag that he’d climbed the previous day with Stephen and George was visible. He wondered how much difference the food they’d left had made to the young bear-dogs. He’d be surprised if the younger one could ever be reintroduced to its natural habitat given the damage its leg had sustained, but that would be a decision for Abby to take. It would be his job to make sure that the animals were rounded up with no danger to any members of the capture team.
The emerging sunlight was sparkling on the crag, dancing on the rock like white fire… No, it bloody well wasn’t…
Ryan pulled out the compass he carried with him at all times as a matter of habit now.
The needle swung lazily to and fro.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 02:34 pm (UTC)Ryan stared at the big dog who grinned up at him, brown eyes almost laughing. “Not much stranger than dealing with dinosaurs on a daily basis.”
I'm loving Dick.
Fabulous
no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 11:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 04:46 pm (UTC)And yay for helicopter, lol!
no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 11:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 05:28 pm (UTC)hairy early warning system
Perfect.
When he’s roused he’s got a voice on him that Sergeant MacRae would have been proud of
LOL for Cutter - something about the accent...
Julian promptly declared that the sun was over the yardarm somewhere in the world
Hah! Standard phrase in my family... *G*
The dog might have a lop-sided grin and distinctly asymmetrical ears,
Awwww.
Thank James Lester. He’s been the one doing the most of the fighting. The man has the morals of a syphilitic stoat and the balls of a wolverine when it comes to a scrap
*snorfle* LOVE IT!
The needle swung lazily to and fro.
Uh-oh... Do I scent mum and dad on the horizon? *g*
*happy sigh*
no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 11:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 05:53 pm (UTC)Just knew it was too good to be true. lol
no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 07:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 07:32 pm (UTC)Another fab ep. I'm loving Dick and Timmy in this.
And yay - ginger beer!
no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 07:42 pm (UTC)Terrific!
no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 11:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 07:51 pm (UTC)I do love all the little details in the fic, like Ryan drinking with Cutter. Such a good read! :)
Finale ahoy!
no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 11:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 08:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 11:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 08:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 11:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 08:43 pm (UTC)Love Dick and Ryan's banter.
“Thank James Lester. He’s been the one doing the most of the fighting. The man has the morals of a syphilitic stoat and the balls of a wolverine when it comes to a scrap.” LOL, great discription.
*purrs*
no subject
Date: 2012-11-01 11:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 12:00 am (UTC)I loved the description of Lester. lol
no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 09:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 09:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 05:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 09:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 05:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 09:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 10:06 am (UTC)*cackles at the description of Lester*
no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 05:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 04:49 pm (UTC)They're having a spiffing time, aren't they? *g*
no subject
Date: 2012-11-02 05:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-03 07:08 pm (UTC)That he has! :-D
And yay! Anomaly!
no subject
Date: 2012-11-03 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-03 10:01 pm (UTC)Of course they fell asleep, after all that food ;)
LOL at Ryan and Stephen having to behave for one night.
And the anomaly is there, so hopefully they can get the fitter pups home, before anything else comes through... Then the ARC can adopt the little one as a mascot.
no subject
Date: 2012-11-03 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-03 10:03 pm (UTC)And another great cliffhanger (though as I'm just catching up with all the fic from the last few days I can go straight to the final part :-) )
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Date: 2012-11-03 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-11-04 10:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-04 10:40 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-11-05 12:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-05 09:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-09 05:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-09 07:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-26 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-26 07:18 pm (UTC)