Jurassic Park: My Way

Prologue: The Bite of the Raptor

   The tropical rain fell in drenching sheets, hammering the corrugated roof of the clinic building. It roared down the metal gutters, splashing on the ground in a torrent. Kix sighed, staring out the window. From the clinic, he could barely see the beach, or the ocean beyond, cloaked in low fog. This wasn't what he had expected when he had come to the fishing village of Bahia Anasco, on the west coast of Costa Rica, to spend two months as part of a visiting medic brigade. Kix had expected sun and relaxation after three grueling years of war on various planets across the galaxy.

   He had been in Bahia Anasco now for three weeks. And it had rained every day.

   Everything else was fine. He liked the isolation of Bahia Anasco, the food, and the friendliness of its people. Costa Rica had one of the twenty best medical systems on this planet, and even in this remote coastal village, the clinic was well-maintained, amply supplied. His paramedic, a native citizen of Costa Rica named Manuel Aragon, was intelligent and well-trained, enabling Kix to practice a level of medicine equal to what he had been trained for.

   But the rain! The constant, never-ending rain! It reminded him far too much of Kamino for his liking.

   Across the examining room, Manuel cocked his head. "Listen," he said.

   "Believe me, I hear it," Kix said absentmindedly.

   "No. Listen."

   And then he caught it. Another sound blended with the rain, a deeper rumble that built and emerged until it became familiar: the rhythmic sound of a LAAT/i gunship. They can't be flying in this weather, he thought.

   But the sound built steadily, and then the larty burst low through the ocean fog and roared overhead, circled, and came back. He saw the gunship swing back over the water, near the fishing boats, then ease sideways to the rickety wooden dock, and back toward the beach.

   It was looking for a place to land.

   It was the kind of larty that usually only carried supplies like crates of ammunition or ration packs. But this one must've been rented out for civilian use after the war ended, because it had a blue strip on the side with the words "InGen Construction" painted in large, white words. "InGen" was the name of the construction company building a new resort on one of the offshore islands. It was said to be spectacular, and very complicated; many of the local people were employed in the construction, which had been going on for more than two years. Kix had never been to a resort of any kind before, but when someone mentioned it, he always imagined swimming pools and tennis courts, where the guests could drink exotic things and play dejarik, without having any contact with the real life of the planet.

   Kix wondered what was so urgent on that island that the larty pilot would fly in this weather. Through the windshield, he saw the pilot–he couldn't tell if he was a clone or not, because of the rain–exhale in relief as the larty settled onto the wet sand of the beach. As uniformed men started scrambling out of the cargo doors, Kix recognized the situation for what it was.

   They needed a doctor, and he didn't need a translator to get the message.

   Kix was out the door before he knew it. Immediately he was pelted by rain drops large enough to hurt, and he jogged toward a human man with pale skin who was most likely in charge, if the fact that he was barking out orders to the dark-skinned men–also humans, as was most of the population of this planet–as they carried a stretcher out of the larty's open side door. He was wearing a yellow raincoat and a hat. Red just peaked out around the edges of it.

   "Is there a doctor here?" The man asked Kix as they came to face each other. This man obviously didn't recognize the senior medic patch on his right shoulder, or he wouldn't have asked such a stupid question. He supposed a man over six feet tall with the build of a soldier didn't look much like a doctor at all.