The drab-painted jeep had been waiting for her at the airport, the matching field trailer attached to the back. Knowing that if the equipment survived the job on Isla Nublar it would belong to her was little comfort to someone who had just spent 18 hours in the air after a three week expedition into the blistering Outback. 

"Least I didna get too used to hot showers and cold A/C then, aye? This thing's a beaut. Better not cark it when I'm trying to outrun a pack a rapto's." The valet who was waiting by the Jeep clearly didn't speak Australian. Rubbing her hands through her short-cropped black hair, the tattooed Biologist opened the driver's side door and hopped in. Everything was crisp and new. She almost felt bad, her clothes and her hiking bag well-worn and grubby by comparison. Almost.

It took her longer to get down to the docks than she might have preferred, not because she found it difficult to drive through crowded streets where feral chickens scurried out of the way of her new tires, but because she needed time to make a private call. Sara Harding's voice sounded tinny and distorted over the satellite phone. 

"...I hope you know what you're doing, Max. This project has killed more people than I like to think about."

Maxine turned a tight corner and was cut off by a farm truck and spent a few minutes trading honks and middle fingers with the other driver before continuing.

"I've had a gander at the notes you sent me. Cheers for that, but the way. I'm pretty sure I can handle treating these animals if it comes to it. Masrani sent me all the lab's info on every disease and injury they ever worked on. Loads of proper case studies and diagrams. Wu was a ratbag sure enough but he knew his work."

Stuffed in Maxine's bag was a copy of the manifest of species currently roaming the new park, photos, pharmacology information based on drugs they'd tried to treat the animals with, medical references ranges for all the basic laboratory analysis, detailed dietary and behavioural information, but in a moment of second-guessing her decision she'd phoned the one person she could think of who could give her some perspective on the whole fiasco. Looking back, Max wasn't sure she'd ever gotten off the phone with the behaviourist since she'd first been held up by Masrani reps on the tarmac in Oz. She'd only met the older woman briefly years ago but their shared concern had brought them together quickly. Sara had sent her a packet of info overnight that included a brochure and other information from the original park and a personal log from Sara's experience with Masrani's predecessor.

"It's not the animals you have to worry about...as much..." Sara argued, and half-way around the planet Maxine could hear real worry in her voice, "it's those [i]people[/i]. You can't trust them. Don't. They'll get you killed in order to protect their corporate interests. All they care about is what money they can make."

She'd seen the personnel files on those who were supposed to be joining them. Most of them were little more than a photo and a name. Max reached down to run a finger along the short barrel of the revolver holstered under her khakis. She'd put it on as soon as her luggage cleared customs.

"Well...I'm not here for their secrets. I'm here for the animals and that's that. They didn't ask to be dragged sixty-five million years through time and cramped on a tiny island."

There was a moment of silence and the docks finally came into view. The company's ferry was easy to spot, even without the workers waving her down to the loading ramp.

"I'm here."

"Good luck, Max. Be careful."

"I will. We'll share a pair 'o stubbies when I'm done here."

Max shoved the phone into her back and with a bunch of salty bitching through the open window of her new Jeep, managed to get the thing situated on the ferry. Parked too close to the railing to open the door, she simply hoisted herself out of the window and stomped along the roof until she could hop down. She was wearing a black tank top that revealed full sleeves of tattoos down her arms and khaki cargo pants that were worn where they settled around her scuffed hiking boots. She was tall but athletic, the faint crinkle of laugh lines in her face those of someone who'd spent a lot of time in the bush.