rodlox (rodlox) wrote in primevalathon,

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"Torrid above freezing" 1/2 K+/M

Title: Torrid above freezing.
Author: Keenir.
With great thanks to my trusted beta, Fififolle the great, the mighty, the sage.

Written for blktauna in the Primeval ficathon.

Part I
Part II

Characters/Pairing: Lt. Tanya Lacey, Mr. James Lester, Dr. Nick Cutter,

Rating: K+ /M
POV: Lt. Tanya Lacey.
Warnings: Lacey’s thoughts

Ficathon request:
1. Lester and Nick get stuck in the Jurassic, bitching ensues.
3. Helen appears again and convinces Nick to come through to see
someting special. It's a trap.
Like/want: a happy ending, some Bitchy Lester would be brilliant

Dislike/don't want: More angst than is warranted by the tone of the
show, Connor, no Nick death, no schmoop, Nice Helen.

I hope this is acceptable. (my Lester muse doesn’t like the Jurassic for some reason – probably read that “2 days” fic with Connor and Ryan one too many times)

…and I leave it up to the reader as to whether or not Helen knew what was going to happen – was that a general message she gave Tanya, or a specific advice?

Spoilers: only for Nick’s trusting nature. :)

Disclaimer: None of these humans are mine. Even Lacey, the OFC, is on loan. (technically, Lt Tremayne is mine, but she’s barely in this one). Only the suppermassive seal and the heatseeking bat are mine – and they are available for loan to anyone who would like to use them in a fic.

2nd Disclaimer: All errors with British ranks and titles and idioms are my own mistakes.

Summary: Lacey’s thoughts as they go from the Anomaly to fending off the attacks of the newbat.

Author Notes: If memory serves, in series 1, Lester was “Sir James,” while in series 2, he had somehow lost his knighthood (something that’s possible, but probably not intended series-wise)…so here, he’s just Mister.

Warning: the sequel to this is my Bonfire Night entry… “Firing when dry”.

.* * * * * * * * * *.

She stood perfectly still. Showed no fear, though puzzlement gripped her mind, refusing to let go until she learned for what reason she’d been summoned to stand before the Rear Admiral himself.

“At ease, Lt. Tremayne, Lt. Lacey,” he told them. “My orders are to have the pair of you transferred to one of the newer Government organizations. You’ve heard of the Thatcher Office?”

“Only by reputation,” Tanya Lacey said. Scuttlebutt said the place had been built during the Iron Lady’s Prime Ministership and was left to sit when the political situation had changed.

“Well, it’s where you’re being stationed from here on in.”

“Understood, sir,” Lacey and Tremayne said simultaneously. Soon enough, they would learn that it had more than just a nickname ;it had a real name to boot:

The ARC.

.* * *.

‘In the case of Shai-hulud, Herbert remains reticent about how the worm moves. (If I had to explain how a one-mile long creature walks or crawls, I too would be as vague as possible!)’ -book 'The Science of Dune'

.* * *.



I’ve got time enough for that, while Mr. Lester and Dr. Cutter recover from oofing into the hulk’s corpse. Hulk, rukh, leviathan; all the words’re too small for this slow-rotting immensity.

“Do you have anything to report?” Mr. Lester asks me as the two of them each try to extract themselves from the impressions they’ve made in the blubber - I know this because I can hear them: bean bag chairs aren’t even this noisy.

Me? I remain right where I am, reclined on the - flipper? Fluke? “There’s something here with us, sir,” I report.

“Yes. We noticed.”

“I don’t think she’s referring to what we landed in, Lester,” Dr. Cutter says.

“What an intriguing theory. Shall we class it with your assumptions about what other women have meant?”

From where I am, I cannot see what expression if any is on Dr. Cutter’s face, though I’d hazard it is not a pleased one.

“Helen said she wanted to talk, wanted to warn us,” Dr. Cutter says.

“The perfect cover for an ambush, I’d say.” Quite.

“She was just as surprised as the rest of us were.”

“Do you mean to suggest that, in all your married life together, your dear sweet wife never was anything less than honest?”


“Vanity thy name is Cutter,” Mr. Lester said. I’d’ve said denial, but meh.

“Sir?” I ask.

“Yes? What is it?”

“The other thing here. It’s a bat. Flightless.”

“A dave?” Dr. Cutter asks. There may well be a story behind those things getting that nomen, but it’s neither here nor there, literally.

I lift up the handful of fur and skin I’d fleeced from it. “No. Lanky, yes; as well as fluffy and small-headed.”

“So no sonar or radar,” he says, more to himself.

I resume watching the icebank, the anomaly leaping glacially from the glacier slope. Down that frozen hillside had come the three of us, come crashing into this - I’ve no idea what.

Overhead, in the open sky, is a second anomaly, one inching its way to the glacier’s anomaly.

“Clean air,” Dr. Cutter observes.

“Wonderfully astute observation, Cutter,” Mr. Lester says. “Any other tidbits of obviousness you’d care to remark upon?”

“No, you don’t get it.”

“No, I suppose not. Still, one is admittedly thankful that it isn’t transmissible.”

“What I mean is this,” Dr.Cutter says, his voice thick with irritation. “If we were simply on a pole or in an ice age, there’d be pollen in the air.”

“Don’t tell me. There is none.”


“And how, pray tell, professor, does this help us?”

“Well, the last time the Earth was covered entirely by ice -”

“Pre-Cambrian,” I say. “If only by a little.” Only a little pre-...then disaster struck. Big-time.

“That’s right,” Dr. Cutter says. “How did you know that?”

“My mother was a geologist, doctor.” Though she preferred chert over dropstones, so my knowledge of this era is paltry.

“Perhaps you should focus your frequently-wandering mind on how you intend to get us out of here, Cutter,” Mr. Lester says. “And significantly less so on your bodyguard’s parentage.” Quite.

I’m still not sure why Tremayne wanted to switch assignments with me on this op. Then again, after three weeks of keeping Mr. Temple safe, she likely figured this to be a breeze.

Dr. Cutter chooses that moment to block the sun, looming over me. “Can I offer you a hand?”

“Do you intend to carry me to the destination?” I ask.

“Would you like me to?” You’d better not be smiling.

“No. And I warn you not to try.”

“You mean advise.”


“Best not to alienate her,” Mr. Lester says, now joining him in looking down on me. “My, that *is* a nasty twist to the tale.” My left ankle.

“Did you get that in the slide down or the impact?” Dr. Cutter asks me.

I toss the skin and fur at him. “I wounded it, but I failed to kill or to cripple it.” By now, the glacier’s anomaly is a few meters off the ice - is it making an arc? Well, that would explain the whole ‘as you go further forwards, its path curves more and more’ the other Dr. Cutter told me before I ended up here.

“Well you’re in no fit state to walk out of here,” Mr. Lester tells me. “Let’s start building a sledge for you.” To drag behind yourselves, myself in the sledge.

I pat the Creature’s hide beside be: one step ahead of you, sir; I’ve been slicing loose a swath of skin around me in preparation and anticipation. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank him just yet,” Dr. Cutter says. “To the best of my knowledge, he’s never taken a course in wilderness survival.”

“You hear that?” I interrupt them. There’s a gargling sound coming from - and from up over the – top? belly? which way is up on this leviathan? – comes that newbat I scarred earlier on. Up close, it has a smell – I would testify to that in court – but with the air like it is, scents don’t carry that far. If they had, I would’ve smelled it first.

We three watch as the newbat uncowled its head, wearing what loose fur I left on its worthless hide.

I fire at it. One bullet tears into its muscleman of a shoulder, and my next two bullets miss. I missed, partly because I think the cold and the pain is starting to get to me, even if I’m working hard not to notice it or think about it…and partly because it did something I’ve never seen before (par for the course, I suppose)

It rolled!

The frickin’ thing rolled! Just tucked in those thick legs quick’n’neat-as-you-please, and rolled away. And not even to or fro like a salamander. No, t’was sideways like, like –

Like a kid log-rolling down a hill on Easter weekend.

“This could be tougher than we first thought,” Mr. Lester says. I nod and hand over my gun to him in the safe way I was trained to.

.* * * *.
‘I will go before you
‘ and level the mountains,
‘I will break in pieces the doors of bronze
‘ and cut through the bars of iron.’
--Isaiah 45:2-3
.* * *.

Tags: author: rodlox, genre: gen, year: 2008 autumn
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