As the power struggle between Arthur Jenkins and Susan Abernathy grew ever more intense—with the former's trusted subordinate V apparently colluding with freelancers like Jackie Welles, Maine, and Panam to pursue a coup within Arasaka—Vela, who had long seen through their every move, remained as calm and detached as ever.
These days, she was constantly traveling along the same triangle—Arasaka Tower, Westbrook, and Arasaka Coast—living like a corporate drone, leaving at dawn and returning at dusk. Her quiet indifference toward Arasaka's so-called "internal circulation" of intrigue had already astonished the agents assigned to monitor her.
Vela remained unmoved. Michiko paid no attention. And under the supervision of Executive Vice President James Thomas, the North American faction simply watched the chaos unfold, even adding fuel to the fire.
It was in this delicate atmosphere that one of Vela's side projects, developed during the refinement of her [Power Armor] system—specifically, the subprogram of her [Jurassic Park Project]: "Pet Dinosaurs"—achieved its first successful batch of mass-produced eggs and live hatchlings.
At the expanded Russell family estate, deep underground in a basement large enough to be called a fallout shelter—beside the CNC workshop and P3-level biohazard lab—there was a temperature-controlled incubation room.
Roar!
Rawr?
Raaawr~
The soft cries of baby reptiles echoed from within a semi-enclosed, round incubation pod bathed in infrared light.
The dinosaur eggs and freshly hatched baby raptors were arranged neatly in cylindrical containers stuffed with straw and shredded cloth—resembling hospital incubators for premature infants.
Overhead scanners and motion sensors monitored the entire room.
Inside the misty vapor rising from the incubators, the outlines of the eggs shimmered faintly.
Reptile eggs contain plenty of yolk but no water. The embryos must absorb moisture from the surrounding air—that's why there was mist.
Some of the well-developed eggs began to tremble gently.
"They're about to hatch."
Holding a PDA tablet, Vela's indigo eyes reflected the code on the display: Velociraptor. Within them flickered the crystalline blue glow of her Geass field.
She could feel it—the faint but distinct emotional resonance within the eggs.
Though still blurry and simple, the emotions were clear enough for her to understand one instinctive message from the newborn minds—hunger.
Spreading her Geass field, Vela crouched and fixed her gaze on the egg emitting the strongest emotional signal.
Crack—
With a faint sound, the rough, dimpled eggshell bulged outward.
A small head slowly broke through.
Its lizard-like snout stretched forward, tiny teeth sharp as needles glinting within its open mouth. Its pale-gray skin, tinged faintly pink, was smeared with sticky, dried reddish yolk. With its three-fingered forelimbs, it pushed away fragments of shell and waved weakly.
After letting out a squeaky cry, the little creature tilted its head. Its large eyes—with yellow sclera and vertical black pupils—stared at the first living being it saw after birth.
Raaawr~
It called twice more, wriggling harder, struggling to free itself from the shell completely.
Its gaze kept darting toward Vela, who watched from above—as if pleading for help.
That made Vela recall an old saying: "When an egg is broken from the outside, it becomes food; when broken from the inside, it becomes life."
Like all oviparous creatures, dinosaurs imprint on the first being they encounter upon hatching.
But… do they really?
Vela remained skeptical about that so-called "imprinting phenomenon" described in ethology. She wasn't about to trust it blindly.
After all, in Jurassic Park and Jurassic World, from John Hammond's International Genetic Technologies to Simon Masrani's Masrani Global Corporation, countless cases showed that handlers were attacked—or even devoured—by the very dinosaurs they raised themselves.
In that world, she had served as one of Masrani Global's Jurassic Park Project Developers, a hybrid dinosaur DNA programmer—inevitably working in close contact with various dinosaurs.
Even with her confidence in her own abilities, Vela never got too close to the dinosaurs she handled.
In fact, during project meetings, she always assumed the worst when assessing their behavior. Merely implanting a GPS chip wasn't enough—in her view, every carnivorous dinosaur should have an electric chip implanted in its skull, capable of delivering neuron-killing shocks if necessary. She repeatedly pointed out the glaring safety flaws of Jurassic World and the company's insufficient ability to suppress dinosaur rampages.
Because of that, she earned plenty of criticism. Her views clashed sharply with the park's security trainer Owen and operations manager Claire (the male and female leads of Jurassic World), who accused her of treating dinosaurs as disposable tools and being cold-blooded.
Sigh. In worlds where history unfolds normally, the trivial nonsense never ends.
At least, until she could infect these naturally feral predators with her Geass field's mental influence, Vela would never behave like those naive pet owners who, in a show of misplaced trust, put their faces next to their predator's jaws—only to end up in the headlines.
Of course, the little hatchling in front of her was harmless enough to handle.
Besides—this one had already been successfully synchronized and imprinted.
Passing her PDA to the weak AI mechanical arm assisting with egg incubation, Vela reached out her hand, gloved in blue nitrile. She carefully removed the eggshell fragments from the baby raptor's head, gently wiped away the dried yolk clinging to its snout, then lifted it free from the shell.
Obediently, the hatchling didn't struggle at all.
Bzzz, bzzz.
A humanoid assistant robot holding an incubation cradle approached and stopped beside Vela.
The little Velociraptor seemed to sense something—it nudged Vela's fingertip with its snout, then rubbed its head affectionately against her palm.
Affection…
The thought made Vela smile faintly. She scratched the tiny raptor's neck, played with it gently for a moment, then placed the chirping creature—its head held high—into the assistant robot's cradle.
It would soon be transferred to a dedicated hatchling nursery to safely pass through its fragile early stage.
"Not bad for a toy."
Vela accepted a quick-dry disinfectant wipe from another assistant robot and cleaned the dried yolk off her gloved hands.
Then she picked up her PDA and began updating the day's log.
The mechanical arm hanging over the incubator resumed its routine—periodically turning the remaining eggs, measuring temperatures with thermal sensors, and sorting undeveloped or nonviable embryos.
Beep-beep.
…Log entry: 2077-1-7. Total living specimens: 121. The survival rate of the first batch of embryos is approximately 0.4%.
The batch consists primarily of small, herbivorous dinosaurs bred through miniature selective cultivation. Carnivorous species currently limited to Coelophysis and Velociraptor.
Although the variety is limited, the [Jurassic Project]'s initial trial breeding has been a clear success.
Using insects found in amber—including those that once fed on large vertebrates' blood—I have obtained the DNA of long-extinct prehistoric animals.
Note: Expansion of the revival species list is currently limited by the available DNA extraction conditions. Additional amber samples containing the blood of other species must be collected and preserved.
As for reviving creatures such as saber-toothed tigers or mammoths—the technology is not yet mature.
In fact, using the Loy Antibody Extraction Technology developed by InGen to obtain dinosaur DNA is slightly easier than extracting that of mammals, because mammalian red blood cells lack nuclei—and therefore DNA.
Dinosaurs, on the other hand, have nucleated red blood cells, just like modern birds.
Once again, despite being called "Jurassic," these are not true dinosaurs. Since authentic dinosaur DNA cannot be obtained, we have merely borrowed partial genetic fragments and reconstructed them.
Strictly speaking, they are new species bearing the appearance of dinosaurs.
…
[Encrypted.]
While subconsciously marking each emotionally responsive living egg with a Geass imprint, Vela finished recording the day's experimental log.
To revive a true, pure-blooded dinosaur—that would be something only God could do.
At least, with today's technology.
Who could say what might be possible in the future?
"Still a bit small," she murmured.
Finishing her work, Vela set down the PDA and glanced around the incubation and breeding chambers—the diligent assistant robots running local AI control, and the upright cryogenic gene-embryo storage units behind one-way glass. Then she murmured softly:
"For dinosaur cultivation, even with miniaturized species, this workshop is far too small."
The initial research could be completed here, but the project would have to be relocated afterward.
Vela thought quietly.
After all, the [Jurassic Project] wasn't that significant. Important? Perhaps not. Profitable? Potentially, if done right.
But compared to the military projects currently on her desk, it was nothing more than a decorative flourish.
The accompanying environmental restoration technologies would only reveal their full value once Arasaka triumphed over NUSA and Militech—otherwise, they'd only benefit the enemy.
It could be developed—but not excessively.
At present, the project's greater purpose was to serve as a distraction—to project Arasaka's "visionary" future image and showcase employee welfare, contrasting it against Militech's obsession with pure weaponry. A propaganda victory. Moral high ground.
"See? Militech only knows how to bomb and destroy. Arasaka, on the other hand, seeks new companions for humanity, healing Mother Earth herself. Doesn't that sound beautiful?"
Subsequent stages of the project could be handed off—to the Tokyo research staff she had transferred earlier. She could even allocate part of it to Tokyo entirely, letting Saburo or Hanako oversee it for amusement.
After all, if a Jurassic Park were to be built, North America would have one—but Tokyo must have one as well. It was a matter of corporate image.
As for this first batch of dinosaurs born in the cyberpunk world—accelerated and imperfect—they were hardly suitable as weapons. But as fashionable pets, symbols of prestige? Perfect. They could be distributed as corporate awards to Arasaka's distinguished employees.
Uncle Thomas, who had once safeguarded her family assets and stocks during her early years—protecting her through her most difficult phase—deserved one.
Her mentor, Professor Noto, also deserved one.
And old man Ram, the former commander of the Special Assault Unit who voluntarily retired and recommended her as his successor.
Her trusted subordinates—Jimmy and the others—must not be forgotten.
The elderly loyalists who had once supported Kei Arasaka's faction and later chose to stand behind her—they, too, would each receive one as a gesture of goodwill.
Lastly, the department heads of Arasaka Tower in Night City, along with the corporation's 2076 Distinguished Employees of the Year.
That would do for now.
"Command the Administration Division to draft and issue the announcement."
As she exited the breeding chamber, Vela gave the order to her AI assistant.
[Assistant AI: Understood.]
The [Jurassic Park Project] was officially adjourned.
As for Michiko's custom-made miniature Tyrannosaurus—she'd send her an email. No need to rush. Custom work took time.
With her leisure experiment concluded—the revival of Masrani Global's technology successfully replicated—it was time to focus on the true challenge ahead: the integration and refinement of the [Power Armor] system.
"The problem of energy-shield miniaturization… Hah, of course, it's your specialty. The bell must be unrung by the one who rang it. Pulling that 'Count Pudding,' the original developer, away from Suzaku Kururugi's side to collaborate again—with a whip, if necessary—was the right move. Progress has been much faster. The official reason? Preventing another assassination incident like those in Area 11."
Smiling faintly to herself, Vela whispered as she stepped through the decontamination gate, changed clothes, and walked along the sterile corridor toward the mechanical workshop on the far end.
...
And so, amid the bustling chaos of competing agendas and hidden ambitions—half a month passed in the blink of an eye.
By mid-January, Director Susan Abernathy—already irritated that her rival Jenkins had received a reward from Board Member Vela—unexpectedly learned of Jenkins' plans to travel to Los Angeles for a mysterious new assignment.