Teresa turns back in time to see a Judas scurry out of the ship. The creature follows them at a swift pace, before it suddenly disappears.

“Incoming,” Teresa cries. Just as a flurry of rapidly fluttering wings sounds overhead.

She falls to the ground, and rolls a short distance. The Judas’ forelegs grip only air and it goes in for another attack. Teresa does the only thing she can. Grabbing up handfuls of sand, she tosses them where she thinks the Judas should be. One handful of dirt hits hard carapace and she has her target. Lying on her back, in the dirt, Teresa fires a single burst from her Orville rifle. The Judas explodes with a meaty wet sound and is propelled away.

The yautja warriors use their slightly ineffective infrared to aim and fire at supposed targets. Mere minutes later, the third blessed detonation slams the California. The gargantuan ship shifts and whines. Metal beams screech and buckle, under the strain of trying to stay in one piece—and the now searing heat within the ship.

Another Judas leaps through the air, aiming straight for Mau-Nis. The former second-in-command has his back turned. His acute hearing tells him that there is an enemy nearby. Turning, battle harness and prototype weapon coming to bear, Mau-Nis lets loose on the still invisible Judas. The automatic fire rips through the cursed insect; tearing apart head, thorax, and wing cases. The creature plows heavily into the sand almost at Mau-Nis’ clawed feet.

Mau-Nis’s weapon runs dry and he expertly ejects the empty cartridge. Deftly retrieving a cartridge from the mesh straps on his implement belt, Mau-Nis slaps the cartridge home. Spinning to his left, Mau-Nis dispatches yet another camouflaged Judas trying to catch him unawares.

Glotis, deft and efficient as ever, uses her combistick—as well as Mau-Nis’ appropriated combistick—to send more than a few Judases to another plane of existence. N-Vorl simultaneously fires the ooman Orville rifle, and utilizes his shoulder cannon; laying waste to any and all Judases he detects.

After a few more minutes of fierce battle, no other Judases make an appearance. P’taal, his shoulder cannon red-hot from firing continuously, falls flat on his back upon the sand. Teresa drops to her knees and releases a relieved sigh. N-Vorl, Glotis, and Mau-Nis stand tall and proud amongst the wind-blown dunes.

N-Vorl closes the top of his wrist device. Grateful he did not have to use it. Removing his mask, N-Vorl surveys all that is around him. And it is good. If there are any more Judases outside of the hulking ship, they are making themselves scarce.

P’taal still lies on his back, his eyes tightly shut. Glotis glides patiently to his side. The yautja scientist places P’taal’s head in her lap and examines his shoulder wounds. P’taal’s eyes flutter open and he peers up at his illicit lover. She offers him a kind smile in return.

Teresa glances over her shoulder, back in the direction of the California. She regards the four yautja warriors before making her decision. Climbing to her feet, Teresa abandons one of the Orville rifles and reaches for the weapon on the ground near her feet. Harold’s flamethrower. Abandoned when he was sheared in half by a powerful yautja weapon. So close to freedom.

Even with all she has been through, a part of Teresa is burdened by the level of carnage which will be her legacy. Harold, Bess, Richard, Dr. Stormare, and even Theo McAvoy. What had it all been for? As far as Teresa is concerned, her partnership with the warrior hunters is over. It is now time to make things right and return to her own kind. To face her fate.

Repositioning the single Orville rifle and strapping it in place, Dr. Boyd holds the flamethrower in front of her and walks back in the direction of the California. N-Vorl’s voice at her back causes Teresa to turn. The large yautja is making swift strides in her direction. Teresa’s manner grows serious and she shoots N-Vorl a furious scowl.

“Don’t try to stop me, N-Vorl!” Dr. Boyd says with all the force she can muster. “I have to do this!”

N-Vorl stops on a line with Teresa and removes his mask. He looks down at Teresa, a fierce gleam in his eye. His baser instincts tell him to grab her—to force her to come with him. But another, more rational, part reminds him that the doctor is not one to be easily controlled. His left hand flexes as he struggles against the forces in his mind.

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“You have to do what?!” N-Vorl demands. “We are outside of the ship. You are safe. Why would you go back?”

Teresa swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that what she has planned has even a small chance of success.

“I knew three explosives wouldn't be enough,” Teresa explains. “In fact, I planned it that way. I’ve set the California to self-destruct. You only have about another fifteen minutes. You should get as far away as you can. There’s an escape vessel inside the transport hangar. It’s in a high-level secured section. I’m not sure if I have the codes for it. The saboteur—He had the codes. From what I can tell, he was holed up in the escape craft when everything hit the fan. But even if I can’t get into the escape ship, I should be able to get to one of the pods. I can jettison myself a safe distance away from the California and broadcast a signal. Maybe a passing ship will pick me up.”

“Why do you not come with—,” N-Vorl begins.

Teresa’s face becomes solemn and she shakes her head. N-Vorl’s words trail off and he narrows his eyes.

“We both know I can’t do that,” Teresa says. “If your people saw those explosions…They’ll be back. You’ll have a glorious story to tell them. But, I don’t belong up there…With you. And, it’s better that my kind doesn’t know you exist. They’d comb the entire universe to have your technology for themselves. That would mean more war. More deaths. The kind of thing I was working to eliminate. This mission has been nothing but death. For your people and mine. I want it to end. I’ve seen enough. I can get back into the ship. I can erase as much data as possible and make sure the California is completely destroyed. But I have to go now. There’s no telling how many more Judases are crawling around in there.”

Teresa wishes that N-Vorl had kept his mask on. Seeing the brief flicker of pain, which plays across the brave warrior’s features, breaks her heart. She tries to offer him some small degree of encouragement.

“Believe me, N-Vorl…I don’t want to be a hero. I am only ooman after all. You and Glotis are the hope for your clan now,” Teresa says. She reaches out to firmly grip N-Vorl’s hand. “Go be their hope. I’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, a bright light appears through the dissipating storm clouds. The yautja mothership comes into view, electrical energy sparking along its surface. Hovering above them, in all of her shimmering glory, the ship is a welcome distraction. Teresa releases N-Vorl’s hand and takes a backward step.

“Ha,” Teresa chuckles. “Who knew? For decades, humans have been trying to breed the ultimate super soldiers. But there’s really no need. They already exist. Tell Glotis she was right.”

Not giving herself a chance to change her mind; Teresa whirls and sprints towards the smoldering heap of what was once the U.S.S. California. She refuses to even spare a glance back at N-Vorl. She doesn’t dare. She might be tempted to run back into his arms.

Entering the ship, one final time, Dr. Boyd steps carefully around debris left from the third explosion. The only scurrying she hears is some distance off. Positioning the flamethrower in front of her, finger not quite on the trigger, Teresa slowly creeps in the direction of the hidden escape craft. She is especially careful not to make any unnecessary movements, and thus create air currents the Judases might interpret as prey.

She is approaching a metal partition, on which a large keypad rests, when a Judas lumbers into view. Visible only due to the flashing amber warning lights. Then comes the sound of another, and another, and another. Probably on the ceiling and walls. Teresa plugs her tablet into the keypad as calmly as her growing fear will allow.

“Don’t panic,” Teresa whispers in her mind. “Don’t move too fast. Act as if you have not seen them. Be cool.”

The Judases approach at a gradual pace. Teresa is sure they are aware of her and are toying with their dinner. Her first attempt at an override fails. And her second. And her third. She tries to remember every inside joke, every shielded secret, and every whispered rumor on the ship. Surely, something will work. Finally, she sets the program to randomly try various phrases parsed from Theodore’s colorful work logs and vid history.

“Oh hell,” Dr. Boyd says.

Her mouth draws into a cruel smile and she raises the flamethrower. In her mind’s eye, she sees Harold standing at her side.

“You want some? Come and get some.”

Releasing a gout of flame, Teresa laughs as several Judases are set alight. Their screeches fill the air with a sound which is like music to Dr. Boyd’s ears. She reaches into her battle harness and removes the partially spent clip of ammunition. She hurls the clip deep into the roaring flames.

A chime sounds and the keypad’s indicator light glows green. Teresa is grateful that auxiliary power is still keeping the most basic of the California’s systems operational. The ammunition clip explodes and more Judases are torn apart by the resulting blast. Debris flies, and Dr. Boyd leaps into the doorway of the concealed transport dock. Unceremoniously ripping her tablet out of the front keypad. She palms the inner keypad, and watches as the door to the hidden dock slowly slides back shut.