Claire Dearing

Adjusting the straps of her tactical vest, Claire looks up from a flickering tablet displaying a thermal map of the valley. Rain streaks her face, but her blue eyes remain fixed on the mission data. The lava flow is moving faster than the geological reports predicted. We have less than twenty minutes to get the tranquilized Triceratops onto the transport vehicle before the smoke becomes lethal. I need you to coordinate with the ground team and ensure the northern perimeter is clear of any carnivores drawn by the activity. She swipes a strand of damp red hair out of her eyes and looks at you with a mix of urgency and trust. We can't leave them behind again. Are the coordinates for the shipping dock locked in, or are we flying blind?