title: The Dulcinea
Author(s): Rodlox
Archive? Yes
Fandom: Invisible Man, Jurassic Park 3
Rating: "This film is not yet rated"
Spoilers: everything from season one and two of The Invisible Man,
Warnings: I'm a biology nut. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from The Invisible Man or Jurassic Park. I do not intend to infringe on any copyright laws with this story. It's for entertainment purposes only and I am not making any money on this story.
Dedication: Chris.
Summary: Darien and the others learn about the Fawkes' mystery girl.
archiving note: there's an umlaut over the U in "Ruebenkonib" {and it's a real name too}.
note: Mahmoud, Lampley, and Hoffman are imaginary characters! if you want to use/mention them, go right ahead - just let me know so I can visit. :)
The Dulcinea
by Rodlox
Claire's POV.
~~~
CLAIRE'S Voice-Over: "In Genesis, God says "Let us make Man in our own image." One difference between God and Man, in terms of creating power, is that He can work _in novo_ . . . whereas humans have to work by maniplating what already exists. Sometimes I wonder who got the better deal."
~~~
PROLOGUE:
He's assembled all of us here. At least I think this is all of us: The Official, Darien, Bobby, Alex, that nice Ana lady, Eberts . . . and myself.
Is there more of us? I mean, I didn't even know Ana existed.
I can't wait to go to Isla Sorna. The sheer biodiversity - we may even be able to find out what had the biotoxin that slowed down Darien's entry into Quicksilver Madness the last time he was there.
The Official hung up the phone. "There's been a bit of a delay in our trip," he told us. Ooooh, no!
"So what went wrong?" Darien asks. "Somebody veto the field trip?"
"There's only a limited number of man-spaces allotted for this," the Official said. "And Israel and Palestine are arguing over who gets the last chair."
"Well, there goes my seat on the plane," Ana comments with, it sounds like acidity and sarcasm alike.
"This's just a delay, right?" Darien asks. My, so hopeful, so eager. I'm jealous.
~~
POST-EP:
I'm glad Darien was able to find his father. Everyone deserves to know their family.
And now Darien's with us on a helicopter approaching Isla Sorna. The Official's sending us to suppliment the medical team working with the mostly-American soldiers who've been charged with keeping an eye on the United Nations inspectors - I wonder what strings the Official pulled this time. Although I'm worried about Bobby though -- he accepted the post, without so much as a comment about playing doctor. Not a single quip.
"Are you feeling okay?" I ask the rugged man sitting across the aisle from me. His face is drawn, his eyes tightly shut - but they open upon my voice.
"Yeah," he tells me. "I just don't like this place." Holding out his hand, "Alan Grant," he introduces himself, tipping his hat to me with the other hand.
"Claire Keepley," I reply, smiling and shaking his hand.
"Nice to meet you."
"And you," I say.
~~
After a nice, pleasant chat, just the two of us - in which we introduce our colleagues as best we can - our conversation is ended by the helicopter touching down on the ground.
"Beach," Alan informs me. I nod thanks; words forestalled by the General giving advice on how we should disembark from the 'copter.
The soldiers got out first, before the scientists and other observers, forming a defensive wall against whatever might come roaring out of the jungle - literally, from what Alan tells me.
Some of the Marines cock their weapons - is it still 'cocking' with modern toys?
"That's her," Darien says, his eyes rivetted on one point. A point coming out from behind the palm fronds.
She looks like she's thirty-something easily, her features weather-worn. There's something about her hair - I don't know anyone who can get their hair going down like hers.
"InGen left a lady behind?" Dr. Abbas inquires. I remember meeting Mahmoud Abbas years ago, when we were each getting our respective degrees - me in biological sciences, and he in a field of paleontology I always mangle.
"There wasn't anyone here last I checked," Alan replies. "But then again, we didn't scour the island either."
"Your safety - promised and garunteed," she tells us. For lack of a better name, me and Alex'd named Darien's vision 'Dulcinea,' thinking that she was equally imaginary.
I do admit when I'm wrong.
"Miss," General Hoffman addresses her, steping forth. "I'm going to ask to see see some identification -- who are you, and where did you come from?"
Dulcinea just tilts her head. Hey, I had a parrot who did that, back when I was a little girl. "I - translator. Officials at compound - waiting.
"Please to - follow me," she tells us, turns, and walks back into the jungle. Now granted, I lack an inherantly suspicious nature, but something seemed wrong . . . it was like watching a dubbed movie.
Granted, I always hated dubbed movies.
Dulcinea vanishes into the green, leaving us on the beach.
After several minutes of the senior officials arguing, "If the two of you would care to accompany me?" Dr. Abbas asks myself and Alan.
Alan sighs almost resignedly. "Lead on." Mahmoud nods and starts walking.
General Hoffman changed his tune then, ordering a detachment of soldiers to accompany us. And, if the sound of feet and leaves behind us was any clue, the rest of them later decided to join us.
"It's quiet," Bobby remarks nearly five minutes into our hike uphill, following Dulcinea.
"Too quiet," Alan agrees.
Mr. Lampley just stays silent, perhaps thinking to himself. He's one of the two senior United Nations agents on this mission - the other one - Ms. Ruebenkonib - is back with the others.
"Something wrong with quiet?" Darien asks. "I mean, at least there's no chirping or big flying things with an attitude problem."
Alan nods, his lips thin. "True. But I recall there wasn't any noise when the T. rex attacked."
"There's a rex here?" Darien asks, nearly stopping in his tracks.
"Well, there was on the other island."
"There was another island with dinosaurs on it?"
I tuned them out, letting them talk.
It took a while, but we at last reached the ridgeline of the mountain - we weren't going to the top, no need to - and started heading down. Already, we could see the ruins of a facility . . . InGen's factories?
Alan swallowed nervously, looking around with caution that made Bobby look unafraid.
In any event, they - the buildings - were well-preserved - I couldn't really see any damage from this distance -- nor as we approached.
~~
As we came out of the brush - after the jungle and a bit of a _llanos_ - we passed a row of collumns about waist-high on me. They looked like they'd hold a chain between each of them - like the passages at a bank or amusement park.
Dulcinea stopped at the bottom of the steps, and turned to face us. "We are - here," she informed us.
The sign over the building's entrance read 'Embroyonics Administration.' Kind of an odd name, even I'll admit.
Only then does everything start to fit into place!: Dulcinea's non-appearance on the redbox, her how her hair flows down, what Ana said about Kevin . . .
Oh God.
~~~~
CLAIRE'S Voice-Over: "Chapter 71.14 of the good Book says, 'And indeed He has created you through various grades.' And He isn't the only one to use grades -- step by step development, gradually improving. But where are the man-made grades to Dulcinea?"
~~~~
I can't help but look at Dulcinea with new eyes, figuratively speaking, or course.
Her cheeks twitched as she talked, her eyes scanning back and forth, taking us all in.
It's only fair, I think, to return the favor. Dulcinea's right hand has the full compliment of five fingers, though the ring and pinky fingers are folded against the palm no matter what gestures she makes. Her left hand has two pairs of fingers, with each finger of a pair moving in sync with the other. If I had to guess, I'd say Kevin and his coworkers were trying to jump from three digits to five as quickly as possible.
I'm afraid to ask what happened to the feet.
"Follow, follow," Dulcinea requests of us, turning around and - and going up the steps. Are those hops, stots, bounds, leaps, or something people never named befoe InGen?
She goes through an open door, and we trudge up the steps, following. She leads us past a receptionist's desk - a post long since abandoned - and to a room that seems to be mostly a juncture, based on how many corridors and stairs meet here.
In mere instants, we're surrounded by 'raptors; most of them with a linear featherlike crest. All but one of the crested ones have a white stripe running down their sides, with a brown dorsal skin above that.
"Not again," Alan mutters.
"It is well and good to greet you again, doctor Grant," one of the 'raptors replies. It replied?!!?
"You can talk?" Alan asks. Wipe that smile off your face, Mahmoud - that was only a theory!
"We always were capable of it," the 'raptor replies.
"Then," Darien asks, "why the hell didn't you guys help them out when they needed it?" Mr. Lampley hisses at Darien for the use of foul language.
"You know," the 'raptor replies. I don't understand - are they saying that Darien really knows the answer, or is it a different manner of regarding individuals?
"Because we had your children," Alan says, a half question. Barks from the 'raptors all around - and echoing from down the halls.
"Correct."
"Have to admit," Darien said, "that makes sense."
"About why we're here," Mr. Lampley interjects. Yes, why are the United Nations here? Aside from the recent events, that is. "I take it it was you who sent the message?"
"Incorrect and correct," the same 'raptor replies.
One of the feather-crested ones has a black back rather than a brown one. It is this one that speaks -- but the voice comes mostly out of the nostrils. "We wish for recognition of our self-ruling nation," Blacktop informed us. "Not an expansive kind is ours; we ask only for these few islands."
"And in exchange?" Lampley asks.
Hisses and barks among the 'raptors. Are they always like that, that harshly, or only when in a bad mood?
"Tourists allowed here," Blacktop answers. "Scientists and children, honeymooners and monks. All assured of safety during their visits.""From ev'rything here?" Darien asks.
"That is a given." You know, if I didn't know better, I would swear that Blacktop was being patronizing.
"We will continue discussion," Blacktop adds after a bit. "At sametime, you will follow her," and swivelled his - her? - head to look momentarily at Dulcinea.
"How are we supposed to do that?" Mr. Lampley asked.
"Not you. You," focusing those predatory eyes on Darien and Alan.
~~
The 'raptors didn't object to myself and Bobby accompanying Alan and Darien down three fights of steps - though Dulcinea and the 'raptors simply leapt from one landing to another - and into a room that looked like it'd been one-part locker room, and one-part laboratory.
"Here," Dulcinea told us, standing next to a safe. "Answers within," and waited for us.
"'Two, four, six, eight, two'," Dulcinea recited. Darien turned the combination lock. The click was audible, perhaps because we were so silent.
Opening the door, Darien pulled out a notebook, one with the name 'KEVIN FAWKES' inscribed on it.
After another bout of group silence, Darien reads from Kevin's journal:
"'August 9th. Now comes the hard part. It was far easier to decide how to modify the body with the other aspects, such as hands. But now, now we have arrived at the skull.
"'To meet my idea, there will have to be a radical foreshortening of the skull. Unfortunately, this will eliminate the sounding chambers. The only way we can see around it would be to warp the skull, moving the sounding chambers back. The downside is obvious - less room for grey matter.
"'Do we give them the power to speak, or the power to rationalize? Perhaps, given the history of mankind, the second one is overrated.'"
~~~~~
CLAIRE'S Voice-Over: My grandfather used to regal me with tales of his life in Africa. One story had a zebra which had no stripes - it was one solid colour; it was tolerated by the normal zebras, feeding alongside them . . . but when danger came - it was left behind to fend for itself. I can't help but wonder if that's what (Kevin's done to) Darien, Dulcinea and the others have been set up for."
end.