fredbassett (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fredbassett) wrote2014-06-01 04:10 pm
fredbassett) wrote2014-06-01 04:10 pm
Fic, Within These Walls, Part 28 of 30, AU, 18
Title : Within These Walls, Chapter 28 of 30
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Lester, Leek, Stringer
Disclaimer : Not mine (except the OCs), no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count : 59,000 words in 30 chapters of approx. 1,500 – 2,500 words each
Spoilers : None
Summary : Ending up in Dartmoor prison for refusing to recant their belief in evolution is only the start of the problems facing Nick, Stephen and Connor. And Sir James Lester soon ends up with other problems on his hands than just an over-crowded prison population.
A/N : For acknowledgements etc, please see Part 1.
“Sir James, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” Oliver Leek looked uncharacteristically nervous as he fussed with the end of his tie and hovered by the doorway.
“If it’s any consolation, Leek, I entirely agree with you, but I refuse to skulk in my rooms while this prison burns,” Lester declared, sweeping past his deputy into the outer office, where even his normally imperturbable secretary was looking slightly concerned. “Miss Wickes, if the Prime Minister telephones, do feel free to irritate him with repeated use of the word ‘dinosaur’. I fail to see why we should be the only ones to have to suffer in this situation.”
Lester knew perfectly well that the sensible course of action was to remain well away from any of the trouble spots in the prison, but he had no intention of going down in the annals of the prison service as the governor who led from the rear during a riot. Although quite frankly, given what was happening, he imagined that the Prime Minister would be quite happy to see the whole place go up in flames along with all the prisoners, probably with him included. It would lead to fewer inconvenient eye witness reports to have to deal with. But Lester had no intention of providing that ill-educated buffoon in 10 Downing Street with any sort of scapegoat.
He took the radio Lorraine handed to him and made his way down the corridor. The various sirens had been silenced when it became clear that almost the entire prison was in an uproar. He’d given the order an hour ago to withdraw all ordinary guards from the wings. The soldiers had the training and the weaponry to deal with this sort of situation. At least they could be relied on to keep casualties to a minimum, but there were some among the guards that he didn’t trust to not to use this as an excuse to pay off old scores. The recent riots in Brixton prison had demonstrated quite how ugly things could get in such circumstances. Fifty dead prisoners in retaliation for one dead guard could hardly be described as a proportionate response, despite Leek’s views on the matter.
According to the reports Lester had received, C wing was quiet now. After the anomaly had closed, he had agreed to send in medical help in return for assurances of good behaviour. It had been a risk, but by then the prisoners had been too shocked to give trouble. After ordering the removal of the carcasses of the birds, and the evacuation of the dead and wounded prisoners, the rest had agreed to return to their cells. He’d got the impression from the guards that they would actually feel safer there.
Fires in both A and B wings had been reasonably swiftly brought under control, without the need to call in outside assistance, for which Lester was thankful. The one good thing about a brick monstrosity originally built to house prisoners of war during the Napoleonic Wars was that the fabric of the building didn’t burn easily, and isolated fires had been extinguished before they could spread, although he’d been told several prisoners were suffering from smoke inhalation. In his opinion, a fair price to pay for setting their cells on fire.
Resistance in G wing had largely collapsed after the death of Gordie Frazer, one casualty of the whole affair that Lester would certainly not lose any sleep over. Captain Wilder was now in the process of restoring order there, which left D wing as the main trouble spot. On Lester’s earlier orders, Captain Stringer had withdrawn, leaving the inmates to stew in their own over-heated juices. Lester wanted to see what the situation was like on the ground before taking any decision regarding the evacuation of anyone wounded in the riot. He’d known prisoners use their own injured as a means of luring guards into their hands and he had no intention of falling for any such tricks.
Yells and cat-calls were the first things he heard as he unlocked one of the outer sets of doors, with Leek pacing at his heels like a well-trained dog.
Captain Stringer met him just inside the doors. “Five guards injured, one seriously,” Stringer said without preamble. “That lot’re claiming they’ve got wounded in there, but they won’t bring them out where we can see them.”
“Then the assumption is that they’re lying,” Lester said, staring down the length of the cavernous inner hall.
Stringer had withdrawn his men to a safe distance, ensuring they were out of range of any thrown missiles. Tin mugs, broken pieces of furniture and other items that had been used as projectiles littered the floor of the no man’s land in between them and the main part of the wing. Tables had been upturned to form barricades and behind them, prisoners milled around, many with makeshift weapons in their hands.
“They’re not in any mood to negotiate,” Stringer said, cradling his rifle in his arms like a favoured child.
“Fortunate, because neither am I,” Lester said. He took a pace forwards, away from the hard-eyed soldiers and watchful guards. Addressing the prisoners crouching behind the tables, he raised his voice and called: “If you have wounded, bring them out. I will guarantee them safe passage.”
His offer was greeted by a few shouts of ‘go fuck yourself’ and similar pleasantries, punctuated by a hail of missiles and some choicer suggestions that made even the notoriously foul-mouthed Stringer look amused.
“I’m afraid my grandmother died some years ago, so will be unable to take up your kind offers, gentlemen,” Lester replied. The encounter was developing on standard lines, and he was fully intending to simply starve the riot of oxygen by simply refusing to engage any further with the rioters until lack of food brought them to heel. “Do let me know when you’re in a more reasonable frame of mind.”
“That’ll be sometime never,” Stringer muttered.
“You are no doubt correct in that prediction, Captain, but unless they resort to cannibalism, they’ll have to start behaving themselves at some point. They’ll run out of steam, they usually do.”
A yell of surprise from one of the guards caused Stringer to wheel around and exclaim, “Buggering fuck!”
Lester turned on his heel. Their way off the wing was blocked by an enormous ball of fractured light, spinning slowly in the air.
Stringer clamped his rifle hard to his chest as various metal mugs went flying through the air, tugged into the broken light by the same magnetism that was currently trying to drag his extremely expensive Mont Blanc fountain pen out of his pocket. Lester caught it just as the clip tugged itself free of the material of his jacket. He had no intention of losing that to one of Cutter’s so-called rips in time.
“Get back!” Stringer ordered. “And hold your fire!”
A moment later, the thing shimmered like a heat haze and a large head burst through. Three very distinctive horns were set in front of a wide, flared bony ruffle around a thick neck. As it stepped out of the anomaly, Lester could see that the creature stood taller than any of the soldiers, at least two metres high at the shoulder, possibly more. Thick grey hide, like that of an elephant, covered an equally heavy body.
Lester very much hoped that he wasn’t gaping in shock. He prided himself on his ability to take anything in his stride, including the appearance of something that had featured very prominently in any number of banned picture books for children and adults alike. His own children had even been able to name this particular dinosaur by the age of four so he didn’t need to be a professor of palaeontology to know that his prison had just been invaded by a triceratops.
“No one move a fucking muscle!” Stringer yelled. “The first person to open fire without a direct order’ll be eating my shit for a week.”
The sudden silence was punctuated by a plastic chair flying through the air and hitting the bars behind them.
“Do that again and I’m opening the fucking door and letting it come for you!” Stringer didn’t turn around or take his eyes off the creature.
“I’m not convinced it will fit through the doors,” Lester said in an undertone.
“Maybe not, but with an arse full of lead I’m willing to bet it’ll give it a good go,” Stringer replied. “When I give the word, sir, I want you to walk backwards, very slowly to the door. Keep your eyes on it. If it looks like it’s going to charge, run like hell, but otherwise keep moving slowly.”
“When did you become an expert on dinosaurs, Captain?”
“About 30 seconds ago, sir. Do you have any alternative ideas?”
“None that immediately spring to mind. However, I do suggest we get any personnel closer to the door out of here first.”
“You’re my prime responsibility, sir.”
“Yes, but I venture to suggest I am more likely to hold my nerve than Mr Leek.”
Stringer shot him a hard look, but it was clear that the soldier didn’t disagree with Lester’s view.
“All right, listen up, gentlemen! Evans, get that door open and keep it that way until we’ve evacuated this section. Mr Leek, I want you to move very slowly back towards the door. Don’t even think about bolting as soon as it’s open. If you do, I guarantee I’ll tear your right arm off at the shoulder and stuff it slowly up your arse so that you can scratch your tonsils from the inside. Do I make myself clear?”
Lester turned his head just far enough to see Leek’s face. His deputy looked like he was about to lose control of his bladder. His adam’s apple bobbed uncertainly as he took a step backwards, then another.
The triceratops tilted its head to one side, beaked mouth open almost as if it was tasting the air. It took a step further into the room and let out a lowing bellow, making it sound like a giant cow, even if it didn’t look like one. The prisoners scrambled further back behind their barricades, and Lester could hear the sound of cell doors slamming as quite a few of them decided that discretion was very definitely the better part of valour. It took another couple of steps into the prison until the entirety of its considerable bulk was outside the shimmering anomaly.
Lester could see its small tail lashing from side to side as though it was swatting flies, and then the tail lifted in the air as the creature started to prove that its resemblance to cows was indeed quite pronounced.
“I want as many people on the other side of those bars as possible, now!” Stringer ordered. “But walk, don’t run! Smudge, Davey, keep it covered but don’t open fire unless I tell you!”
The triceratops kept its eyes firmly fixed on him and Stringer as it continued to drop a very large pile of steaming dung onto the floor.
“Leek’s out of the door, sir,” Stringer said. “You can start moving. There’s only you and I left now.”
Lester acknowledged his words with a curt nod, not entirely trusting his powers of speech at that particular moment. He and Stringer had been several metres further forward than Leek and the rest of the men, and the vast bulk of the triceratops was between them and the exit. But despite that, he had no inclination to join the prisoners on the rest of the wing. Quite frankly, he was more inclined to take his chance with a shitting, snorting, stamping dinosaur. The last time a bunch of rioting inmates had successfully got their hands on a prison governor the result hadn’t been pretty.
He took a step to the side, keeping his eyes on the triceratops at all times. Stringer stayed where he was, his rifle held to his shoulder in readiness, although he could in all probability have fired from the hip at that distance with equal accuracy. The dinosaur snorted and lowered its tail, leaving behind the largest pile of extremely pungent shit that Lester had ever had the misfortune to encounter. Even the elephants at Wellington zoo hadn’t managed to produce quite the same quantity on the occasion Lester had had the misfortune to take his children there for a day out. The thought crossed Lester’s mind that his once dinosaur-mad youngest son would probably envy him this experience.
The three-horned head swung to one side, as the creature followed him with its small, dark eyes. It looked like it was still weighing up its surroundings and hadn’t quite decided whether to stay or retreat back to its own time. Another four steps and Lester had reached the wall. That didn’t exactly improve his chances of survival but it did feel like something of a small milestone. Now all he had to do was keep moving slowly and steadily towards the door out of this area of the wing.
Two more steps.
His palms were sweating, his mouth felt like something small and furry had died in there and he had a desperate need to piss. None of this had been in the job description for a prison governor. His wife had warned him against this transfer, but as she’d been divorcing him at the time, he hadn’t given much weight to her opinion.
Lester took another step and received an approving nod from Stringer.
The silence that had fallen on the wing was broken by the sound of something breaking apart on one of the upper floors.
“Don’t look up, just keep moving!” Stringer ordered.
Lester took another two steps and then something came crashing down onto the netting above them, there to prevent prisoners on the upper floors jumping to their deaths from the upper galleries. The netting stretched but didn’t break, but it was enough to spook the triceratops. It lowered its head and, without warning, charged at Stringer. The soldier jumped to one side, but at the same moment, water splattered onto the floor from above and Stringer’s booted foot slid from under him, sending him crashing down onto the floor.
The sudden shock of projectiles from above broke the spell of silence that had fallen on the wing, and suddenly prisoners everywhere started whooping and throwing things again.
The triceratops caught Stringer a glancing blow from one of its horns, sending him spinning around. Without stopping to think, Lester shrugged his jacket off and held it in both hands like a bullfighter’s cape, shaking it in front of the startled animal and flapping it around. The triceratops hesitated for a moment, but then obligingly turned its attention away from Stringer, allowing the soldier to struggle to his feet, yelling loudly for his men to keep holding their fire.
Lester flapped his improvised cape and wasn’t sure whether to feel pleased or terrified when the gigantic creature turned in his direction. Doing his best to ignore the hail of missiles now being thrown from above, Lester swung his jacket backwards and forward and prepared to run for his life.
The triceratops charged. Lester jumped to one side. The three horns gouged massive chunks out of the white-washed plaster, making a noise like a gigantic fingernail being scraped down a blackboard.
Without waiting to see what it did next, Lester exchanged glances with Stringer, and received a sharp nod in the direction of the door. He didn’t need telling twice. Lester threw his jacket over the creature’s horns and prepared to run.
The triceratops shook its head but failed to dislodge the jacket. One of the horns had gone inside a sleeve and the other had pierced the fabric, essentially blinding the dinosaur. It shook its head in impotent fury and charged blindly, straight back into the anomaly.
Lester stared after it in amazement. Silence fell on the wing again and the hail of missiles from above ceased for a moment. Lester ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it down with the sweat on his palms and, followed by Captain Stringer, who was wearing a grin that wouldn’t have been out of place on the Cheshire Cat, stalked off the wing. As an afterthought, Lester straightened his tie, just for good measure.
As the door slammed behind them, Stringer called out to the wing at large, “If you fancy attracting anything else through that thing, be my guest, start yelling again, why don’t you?”
Lester drew in a deep breath and allowed himself a very small smile. “We’ll leave D wing to its own devices for a while, shall we, Captain?”
Stringer grin widened. “You’ve got bigger bollocks than the fucking monster, sir.”
“Charming of you to say so, captain. Now shall we find out if former-Professor Cutter and Captain Ryan are doing quite so well with their respective assignments?”
With Stringer at his side, Lester walked off the wing as behind them, the anomaly glittered brightly and continued to turn slowly in the air.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Lester, Leek, Stringer
Disclaimer : Not mine (except the OCs), no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count : 59,000 words in 30 chapters of approx. 1,500 – 2,500 words each
Spoilers : None
Summary : Ending up in Dartmoor prison for refusing to recant their belief in evolution is only the start of the problems facing Nick, Stephen and Connor. And Sir James Lester soon ends up with other problems on his hands than just an over-crowded prison population.
A/N : For acknowledgements etc, please see Part 1.
“Sir James, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” Oliver Leek looked uncharacteristically nervous as he fussed with the end of his tie and hovered by the doorway.
“If it’s any consolation, Leek, I entirely agree with you, but I refuse to skulk in my rooms while this prison burns,” Lester declared, sweeping past his deputy into the outer office, where even his normally imperturbable secretary was looking slightly concerned. “Miss Wickes, if the Prime Minister telephones, do feel free to irritate him with repeated use of the word ‘dinosaur’. I fail to see why we should be the only ones to have to suffer in this situation.”
Lester knew perfectly well that the sensible course of action was to remain well away from any of the trouble spots in the prison, but he had no intention of going down in the annals of the prison service as the governor who led from the rear during a riot. Although quite frankly, given what was happening, he imagined that the Prime Minister would be quite happy to see the whole place go up in flames along with all the prisoners, probably with him included. It would lead to fewer inconvenient eye witness reports to have to deal with. But Lester had no intention of providing that ill-educated buffoon in 10 Downing Street with any sort of scapegoat.
He took the radio Lorraine handed to him and made his way down the corridor. The various sirens had been silenced when it became clear that almost the entire prison was in an uproar. He’d given the order an hour ago to withdraw all ordinary guards from the wings. The soldiers had the training and the weaponry to deal with this sort of situation. At least they could be relied on to keep casualties to a minimum, but there were some among the guards that he didn’t trust to not to use this as an excuse to pay off old scores. The recent riots in Brixton prison had demonstrated quite how ugly things could get in such circumstances. Fifty dead prisoners in retaliation for one dead guard could hardly be described as a proportionate response, despite Leek’s views on the matter.
According to the reports Lester had received, C wing was quiet now. After the anomaly had closed, he had agreed to send in medical help in return for assurances of good behaviour. It had been a risk, but by then the prisoners had been too shocked to give trouble. After ordering the removal of the carcasses of the birds, and the evacuation of the dead and wounded prisoners, the rest had agreed to return to their cells. He’d got the impression from the guards that they would actually feel safer there.
Fires in both A and B wings had been reasonably swiftly brought under control, without the need to call in outside assistance, for which Lester was thankful. The one good thing about a brick monstrosity originally built to house prisoners of war during the Napoleonic Wars was that the fabric of the building didn’t burn easily, and isolated fires had been extinguished before they could spread, although he’d been told several prisoners were suffering from smoke inhalation. In his opinion, a fair price to pay for setting their cells on fire.
Resistance in G wing had largely collapsed after the death of Gordie Frazer, one casualty of the whole affair that Lester would certainly not lose any sleep over. Captain Wilder was now in the process of restoring order there, which left D wing as the main trouble spot. On Lester’s earlier orders, Captain Stringer had withdrawn, leaving the inmates to stew in their own over-heated juices. Lester wanted to see what the situation was like on the ground before taking any decision regarding the evacuation of anyone wounded in the riot. He’d known prisoners use their own injured as a means of luring guards into their hands and he had no intention of falling for any such tricks.
Yells and cat-calls were the first things he heard as he unlocked one of the outer sets of doors, with Leek pacing at his heels like a well-trained dog.
Captain Stringer met him just inside the doors. “Five guards injured, one seriously,” Stringer said without preamble. “That lot’re claiming they’ve got wounded in there, but they won’t bring them out where we can see them.”
“Then the assumption is that they’re lying,” Lester said, staring down the length of the cavernous inner hall.
Stringer had withdrawn his men to a safe distance, ensuring they were out of range of any thrown missiles. Tin mugs, broken pieces of furniture and other items that had been used as projectiles littered the floor of the no man’s land in between them and the main part of the wing. Tables had been upturned to form barricades and behind them, prisoners milled around, many with makeshift weapons in their hands.
“They’re not in any mood to negotiate,” Stringer said, cradling his rifle in his arms like a favoured child.
“Fortunate, because neither am I,” Lester said. He took a pace forwards, away from the hard-eyed soldiers and watchful guards. Addressing the prisoners crouching behind the tables, he raised his voice and called: “If you have wounded, bring them out. I will guarantee them safe passage.”
His offer was greeted by a few shouts of ‘go fuck yourself’ and similar pleasantries, punctuated by a hail of missiles and some choicer suggestions that made even the notoriously foul-mouthed Stringer look amused.
“I’m afraid my grandmother died some years ago, so will be unable to take up your kind offers, gentlemen,” Lester replied. The encounter was developing on standard lines, and he was fully intending to simply starve the riot of oxygen by simply refusing to engage any further with the rioters until lack of food brought them to heel. “Do let me know when you’re in a more reasonable frame of mind.”
“That’ll be sometime never,” Stringer muttered.
“You are no doubt correct in that prediction, Captain, but unless they resort to cannibalism, they’ll have to start behaving themselves at some point. They’ll run out of steam, they usually do.”
A yell of surprise from one of the guards caused Stringer to wheel around and exclaim, “Buggering fuck!”
Lester turned on his heel. Their way off the wing was blocked by an enormous ball of fractured light, spinning slowly in the air.
Stringer clamped his rifle hard to his chest as various metal mugs went flying through the air, tugged into the broken light by the same magnetism that was currently trying to drag his extremely expensive Mont Blanc fountain pen out of his pocket. Lester caught it just as the clip tugged itself free of the material of his jacket. He had no intention of losing that to one of Cutter’s so-called rips in time.
“Get back!” Stringer ordered. “And hold your fire!”
A moment later, the thing shimmered like a heat haze and a large head burst through. Three very distinctive horns were set in front of a wide, flared bony ruffle around a thick neck. As it stepped out of the anomaly, Lester could see that the creature stood taller than any of the soldiers, at least two metres high at the shoulder, possibly more. Thick grey hide, like that of an elephant, covered an equally heavy body.
Lester very much hoped that he wasn’t gaping in shock. He prided himself on his ability to take anything in his stride, including the appearance of something that had featured very prominently in any number of banned picture books for children and adults alike. His own children had even been able to name this particular dinosaur by the age of four so he didn’t need to be a professor of palaeontology to know that his prison had just been invaded by a triceratops.
“No one move a fucking muscle!” Stringer yelled. “The first person to open fire without a direct order’ll be eating my shit for a week.”
The sudden silence was punctuated by a plastic chair flying through the air and hitting the bars behind them.
“Do that again and I’m opening the fucking door and letting it come for you!” Stringer didn’t turn around or take his eyes off the creature.
“I’m not convinced it will fit through the doors,” Lester said in an undertone.
“Maybe not, but with an arse full of lead I’m willing to bet it’ll give it a good go,” Stringer replied. “When I give the word, sir, I want you to walk backwards, very slowly to the door. Keep your eyes on it. If it looks like it’s going to charge, run like hell, but otherwise keep moving slowly.”
“When did you become an expert on dinosaurs, Captain?”
“About 30 seconds ago, sir. Do you have any alternative ideas?”
“None that immediately spring to mind. However, I do suggest we get any personnel closer to the door out of here first.”
“You’re my prime responsibility, sir.”
“Yes, but I venture to suggest I am more likely to hold my nerve than Mr Leek.”
Stringer shot him a hard look, but it was clear that the soldier didn’t disagree with Lester’s view.
“All right, listen up, gentlemen! Evans, get that door open and keep it that way until we’ve evacuated this section. Mr Leek, I want you to move very slowly back towards the door. Don’t even think about bolting as soon as it’s open. If you do, I guarantee I’ll tear your right arm off at the shoulder and stuff it slowly up your arse so that you can scratch your tonsils from the inside. Do I make myself clear?”
Lester turned his head just far enough to see Leek’s face. His deputy looked like he was about to lose control of his bladder. His adam’s apple bobbed uncertainly as he took a step backwards, then another.
The triceratops tilted its head to one side, beaked mouth open almost as if it was tasting the air. It took a step further into the room and let out a lowing bellow, making it sound like a giant cow, even if it didn’t look like one. The prisoners scrambled further back behind their barricades, and Lester could hear the sound of cell doors slamming as quite a few of them decided that discretion was very definitely the better part of valour. It took another couple of steps into the prison until the entirety of its considerable bulk was outside the shimmering anomaly.
Lester could see its small tail lashing from side to side as though it was swatting flies, and then the tail lifted in the air as the creature started to prove that its resemblance to cows was indeed quite pronounced.
“I want as many people on the other side of those bars as possible, now!” Stringer ordered. “But walk, don’t run! Smudge, Davey, keep it covered but don’t open fire unless I tell you!”
The triceratops kept its eyes firmly fixed on him and Stringer as it continued to drop a very large pile of steaming dung onto the floor.
“Leek’s out of the door, sir,” Stringer said. “You can start moving. There’s only you and I left now.”
Lester acknowledged his words with a curt nod, not entirely trusting his powers of speech at that particular moment. He and Stringer had been several metres further forward than Leek and the rest of the men, and the vast bulk of the triceratops was between them and the exit. But despite that, he had no inclination to join the prisoners on the rest of the wing. Quite frankly, he was more inclined to take his chance with a shitting, snorting, stamping dinosaur. The last time a bunch of rioting inmates had successfully got their hands on a prison governor the result hadn’t been pretty.
He took a step to the side, keeping his eyes on the triceratops at all times. Stringer stayed where he was, his rifle held to his shoulder in readiness, although he could in all probability have fired from the hip at that distance with equal accuracy. The dinosaur snorted and lowered its tail, leaving behind the largest pile of extremely pungent shit that Lester had ever had the misfortune to encounter. Even the elephants at Wellington zoo hadn’t managed to produce quite the same quantity on the occasion Lester had had the misfortune to take his children there for a day out. The thought crossed Lester’s mind that his once dinosaur-mad youngest son would probably envy him this experience.
The three-horned head swung to one side, as the creature followed him with its small, dark eyes. It looked like it was still weighing up its surroundings and hadn’t quite decided whether to stay or retreat back to its own time. Another four steps and Lester had reached the wall. That didn’t exactly improve his chances of survival but it did feel like something of a small milestone. Now all he had to do was keep moving slowly and steadily towards the door out of this area of the wing.
Two more steps.
His palms were sweating, his mouth felt like something small and furry had died in there and he had a desperate need to piss. None of this had been in the job description for a prison governor. His wife had warned him against this transfer, but as she’d been divorcing him at the time, he hadn’t given much weight to her opinion.
Lester took another step and received an approving nod from Stringer.
The silence that had fallen on the wing was broken by the sound of something breaking apart on one of the upper floors.
“Don’t look up, just keep moving!” Stringer ordered.
Lester took another two steps and then something came crashing down onto the netting above them, there to prevent prisoners on the upper floors jumping to their deaths from the upper galleries. The netting stretched but didn’t break, but it was enough to spook the triceratops. It lowered its head and, without warning, charged at Stringer. The soldier jumped to one side, but at the same moment, water splattered onto the floor from above and Stringer’s booted foot slid from under him, sending him crashing down onto the floor.
The sudden shock of projectiles from above broke the spell of silence that had fallen on the wing, and suddenly prisoners everywhere started whooping and throwing things again.
The triceratops caught Stringer a glancing blow from one of its horns, sending him spinning around. Without stopping to think, Lester shrugged his jacket off and held it in both hands like a bullfighter’s cape, shaking it in front of the startled animal and flapping it around. The triceratops hesitated for a moment, but then obligingly turned its attention away from Stringer, allowing the soldier to struggle to his feet, yelling loudly for his men to keep holding their fire.
Lester flapped his improvised cape and wasn’t sure whether to feel pleased or terrified when the gigantic creature turned in his direction. Doing his best to ignore the hail of missiles now being thrown from above, Lester swung his jacket backwards and forward and prepared to run for his life.
The triceratops charged. Lester jumped to one side. The three horns gouged massive chunks out of the white-washed plaster, making a noise like a gigantic fingernail being scraped down a blackboard.
Without waiting to see what it did next, Lester exchanged glances with Stringer, and received a sharp nod in the direction of the door. He didn’t need telling twice. Lester threw his jacket over the creature’s horns and prepared to run.
The triceratops shook its head but failed to dislodge the jacket. One of the horns had gone inside a sleeve and the other had pierced the fabric, essentially blinding the dinosaur. It shook its head in impotent fury and charged blindly, straight back into the anomaly.
Lester stared after it in amazement. Silence fell on the wing again and the hail of missiles from above ceased for a moment. Lester ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it down with the sweat on his palms and, followed by Captain Stringer, who was wearing a grin that wouldn’t have been out of place on the Cheshire Cat, stalked off the wing. As an afterthought, Lester straightened his tie, just for good measure.
As the door slammed behind them, Stringer called out to the wing at large, “If you fancy attracting anything else through that thing, be my guest, start yelling again, why don’t you?”
Lester drew in a deep breath and allowed himself a very small smile. “We’ll leave D wing to its own devices for a while, shall we, Captain?”
Stringer grin widened. “You’ve got bigger bollocks than the fucking monster, sir.”
“Charming of you to say so, captain. Now shall we find out if former-Professor Cutter and Captain Ryan are doing quite so well with their respective assignments?”
With Stringer at his side, Lester walked off the wing as behind them, the anomaly glittered brightly and continued to turn slowly in the air.
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I love Stringer. I love Stringer being foul-mouthed and competent. As much as I love Lester being imperturbable and competent!
Great ep!
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I have fun coming up with foul-mouthed phrases for Stringer.
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Lester being all BAMF! Stringer being foul mouthed and ftw too.
*purrs*
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“You’ve got bigger bollocks than the fucking monster, sir.” I agree *g*
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(Also, have to laugh, as I see you were way ahead of me on the absence of Ladybird dinosaur books :))
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“When did you become an expert on dinosaurs, Captain?”
“About 30 seconds ago, sir. Do you have any alternative ideas?”
hahahaha
Yay for Stringer! He nearly got eaten :)
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“You’ve got bigger bollocks than the fucking monster, sir.”
He defintely has!
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And it starts off with a brilliant sally by Lester.
Fifty dead prisoners in retaliation for one dead guard could hardly be described as a proportionate response, despite Leek’s views on the matter.
Ouch. And a pretty good meow-hiss, there, too.
and some choicer suggestions that made even the notoriously foul-mouthed Stringer look amused.
*g*
A moment later, the thing shimmered like a heat haze and a large head burst through.
Oh, lovely description!
“The first person to open fire without a direct order’ll be eating my shit for a week.
Urk. Gulp.
“I’m not convinced it will fit through the doors,” Lester said in an undertone.
“Maybe not, but with an arse full of lead I’m willing to bet it’ll give it a good go,” Stringer replied.
*snorfle*. And the "expert 30 seconds ago" bit.
“Yes, but I venture to suggest I am more likely to hold my nerve than Mr Leek.”
And again, Ollie gets no respect. *g*
I guarantee I’ll tear your right arm off at the shoulder and stuff it slowly up your arse so that you can scratch your tonsils from the inside.
Oh, well phrased!
he creature started to prove that its resemblance to cows was indeed quite pronounced.
Oh. Joy. I don't envy the clean-up crew!
His wife had warned him against this transfer, but as she’d been divorcing him at the time, he hadn’t given much weight to her opinion.
*snorfle*
The three horns gouged massive chunks out of the white-washed plaster, making a noise like a gigantic fingernail being scraped down a blackboard.
*shudders*
*meep* for the bull-fighter scene; that was so rapid-paced!
As an afterthought, Lester straightened his tie, just for good measure.
Perfect. Just perfect. So very Lester!
Stringer grin widened. “You’ve got bigger bollocks than the fucking monster, sir.”
Yep. He does indeed.
Stellar piece.
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*temporarily forgets previous chapter's cliff hanger*
Lester and his pen and his suit jacket. *loves* Nice detail with the sweating palms (that Lester's never going to admit to) and the final adjustment of the tie.
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