Seven Hours Until Evacuation Deadline

Dr. Boyd stifles a yawn and glances around at her surroundings. Fanning herself with a Dayshadow Industries welcome packet, she initializes a new computer program. The program's main purpose is to identify the harmonic frequency used by the current Judas mutations in their camouflaging abilities. The bugs have been altering the frequency with each new generation, attempting to stay one step ahead of the cunning yautja warriors.

With so many nests to keep track of, and so many generations of Judases, even the computer regularly runs into problems pinning down a likely frequency. Making Dr. Boyd's task of creating a modified motion detector, which will instead hone in on the necessary frequency, very difficult. Teresa observes the subject in holding tank three via the same remote app she used to view P’taal and Glotis during their enlightening episode of yautja coitus.

Teresa glances up to see Elder Glandis and his party filing toward the entrance to the laboratory. Teresa stands from her place at the desk and watches them leave the lab. She is even more surprised to see Glotis and P’taal leaving as well. Each warrior is fully outfitted; their weapons at the ready. Teresa can only guess they are going on a final hunt before time to evacuate. Placing a hand on her hip, Dr. Boyd grumbles to herself.

“Another hunt? Right now? With all of my... Absolute foolishness,” Teresa mutters under her breath. “What’s the point of doing all these tests and outfitting these bugs…If they won’t even wait to see the results? Dumb! That’s what it is. Just plain dumb! All they care about is hunting, hunting, and more hunting. So much for actual science.”

Rubbing a hand over her neck, Teresa plops back down into her chair with a sullen pout. A bone-tiredness has sapped her energy, and she attempts to massage it away. She closes both eyes, intending to steal just a moment of rest.

However, a moment later, N-Vorl’s heavy footsteps stop beside her chair. Teresa groggily opens both eyes to find the big yautja staring down at her. There is a look on his face which is unmistakable—whether it be on a human or a yautja. Teresa sits upright in her chair. She reluctantly meets N-Vorl’s gaze.

“Another hunting trip?” Dr. Boyd asks, trying to figure out exactly what has brought N-Vorl to her desk.

“Yes,” N-Vorl says with a head nod. “It may be the last opportunity to hunt a Judas queen until well after the disturbance has passed. We must hope that enough damage is not done to render the project useless. Two guards have been stationed outside the doors to the main entrance. They are to alert us if anything enters the corridor which isn’t one of our warriors.”

Teresa grows solemn. She glances at the door to Lab Room Seven, inside which the med pod sits.

“I don’t think this is a particularly smart move,” Teresa says. She rakes a hand through her hair. “But, of course, my vote doesn’t count. If there are any casualties…I haven’t calibrated the med pod to do anything more than patch up minor bumps and scrapes. And with it so close to evacuation time? Oh well. Guess, I’ve got some work to do while they’re gone.”

Teresa is silenced when N-Vorl’s hand slips under her chin. He raises her head so that she is looking directly into his eyes.

“I’ve always said…Oomans talk too much,” N-Vorl says mockingly.

“Thanks,” Teresa replies. “I guess.”

N-Vorl narrows his eyes, and the big yautja actually smiles. There is a flutter in Teresa’s stomach and her breathing increases. N-Vorl’s gaze shifts by a small degree as he observes the minute changes in Teresa’s appearance. Her deepening color, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, and the tightening of her jaw. N-Vorl’s smile widens.

“But I do not wish to discuss matters of science right now,” N-Vorl says.

Teresa catches a glimpse of the previous expression which transformed the enormous warrior’s countenance. She is unable to suppress the sudden feeling that they have wandered into new territory. Good.

“I convinced Glotis and P’taal to accompany Elder Glandis on his hunting trip,” N-Vorl explains, his smile growing impossibly bigger.

“Did you now?” Teresa utters.

Her heart flutters wildly in her chest. She can already guess where this is going. She raises a hand and cups N-Vorl’s opposite wrist—the hand of which is still resting underneath her chin.

“Am I to understand,” Teresa continues. “That we are no longer in the strictly business phase?”

N-Vorl places his hands on the desk, to either side of Teresa. He leans forward and there is a definite glint in his eye.

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“What do you think?” the yautja says in a soft voice.

He perfectly mimics a line Teresa has said to him in just that exact tone. A laugh escapes Dr. Boyd’s throat and she struggles to keep it contained.

“Oh dear,” Dr. Boyd exclaims. So she’d read him right after all.

Wrapping both arms around N-Vorl’s neck, Dr. Boyd stares into his eyes. Eyes almost the color of freshly mowed grass on a lush green golf course. One muscled arm slips around Teresa’s waist and she trembles with expectation. Grateful that she remembered to take her dosage of blood serum, Teresa allows N-Vorl to kiss her. He performs his awkward version of a human kiss with as much finesse as his extremely large physique will allow.

A deep sadness envelopes Teresa and she begins to cry. Richard, Harold, and now N-Vorl. Is she doomed to this kind of love forever? A love that can never last?

N-Vorl pulls back just enough to peer at Teresa's face. He observes the tears running from her eyes with overt confusion.

“What is wrong?” N-Vorl asks. “Have I hurt you?”

“No,” Dr. Boyd says. “I was only—”

N-Vorl’s large hand cups Teresa’s right cheek. A solitary finger tracing the line of tears trailing down that side of her face.

“Are you happy, then?” N-Vorl inquires.

Teresa remains silent, staring into his eyes with uncertainty. There is only a shadow of a doubt in Teresa’s mind that it was N-Vorl’s shoulder cannon which sheared Harold in two. How do you tell your newest lover they may have murdered the one other human you have felt passion for in a long time?

“No…I…I don’t know,” Teresa lies. She struggles to keep any further emotion from her voice.

“You oomans are confusing creatures,” N-Vorl states, unable to hide the disdain almost ingrained into his DNA. “You cry when you are angry…When you are sad…And when you are happy. How is a mate to know the difference?”

“Wait…What?” Teresa says.

Her eyes widen and she stumbles over her words. N-Vorl takes a deep breath before reiterating his former statement.

“You oomans cry when you are—” N-Vorl protests, but Teresa cuts him off with a finger to his mouth.

“I understand that part. Repeat the other part,” Teresa pressures him.

N-Vorl’s brow knits, and his mouth draws shut, as he realizes what he let slip. Rather than repeat his words, N-Vorl opts to demonstrate them. Pulling Dr. Boyd close, he enfolds her in his arms. Teresa sighs as N-Vorl lowers his head to her throat. The warmth of his mouth against her skin is a welcome distraction, his hands making their way under the back of her lab coat and then her blouse.

Shutting her eyes tightly, Dr. Boyd strokes the hair upon N-Vorl’s head. Mates? Is that what they are to each other now? What does that even entail? Teresa knows so little about their methods of cohabitation. Did a yautja have many mates? Are they monogamous? Do they mate for a season? Or for a lifetime? So many questions. Questions, she dares not ask. Not yet.

When N-Vorl’s hand travels to her stomach, Teresa opens her eyes. He is staring at her intensely. There is now an air of seriousness to their conversation.

“Some things…Are not done,” N-Vorl says. “Or…They have not been done in many millennia.”

This admission causes N-Vorl to temporarily look away. A war of another kind rages deep in his chest, and N-Vorl brings Teresa closer to him.

“How will we say the little one came about? Elder Glandis will not accept…What we have done to reach this point,” N-Vorl states in a solemn voice.

“I’m a scientist, N-Vorl,” Teresa says. “If a child is to be born…I will tell him all he needs to know. You need not be involved.”

N-Vorl presses his forehead to Teresa’s. His green eyes peer into hers; as if reading her mind from the backs of her eyes. Planting a yautja’s kiss on Teresa’s forehead, he then lowers his mouth to her lips.

Carefully positioning his teeth against the flesh of Dr. Boyd’s mouth, he slowly draws them apart. As a result, Teresa’s lips part as well. He allows his tongue to play over the inner surface of her lips, and eventually her mouth. Teresa returns his passion with equal intensity, knowing this could be the last time.

Teresa contemplates exactly what she will say to Elder Glandis. The yautja leader will definitely not be happy. However, everything Dr. Boyd has seen of Glandis tells her that he is not one prone to rash behavior. Except maybe, going out on regular hunts against an ever-evolving, extremely adaptable, more numerous, and unpredictable foe. But besides that, Elder Glandis has given her every impression that he is a fair judge of both circumstances and character. Were he not, she would certainly already be dead. As N-Vorl has made very clear.

N-Vorl has already moved on from his previous worries, his appetite growing with every moment of physical contact. Teresa sighs as his mandibles brush her cheek, and he places his mouth against the flesh above her collarbone. He kisses her skin repeatedly; in his own yautja way. Teresa can’t help but wonder at what is going through his mind. Is he as confused and aroused as she is? What biological process has allowed for any of this to happen? Had her spells of nausea and other symptoms been a signal that she was attracted to him all along? That her body had known what she is only now willing to admit?

Such a strange thing, too. She has never been attracted to so-called ‘bad boys,’ Guys like Theodore, or her first boyfriend, were always trouble right out of the gate. Life has taught her to look beneath the surface when seeking the true character of a man. All that shines is not a diamond.

Her one great weakness, has always been a man in uniform. Seeing a uniformed Richard Crews, standing alone on the pier in New Vegas, had activated a part of her brain she’d forgotten existed. Then, there had been Harold in his standard blue work jumpsuit. Always clean, always pressed, and a man who cared about first impressions. N-Vorl is a different beast altogether. What with his rugged physique, worn battle armor, and otherworldly ideas of honor and loyalty. N-Vorl excites her in a way that is beyond all comprehension. Because in truth, he is a bit of an asshole.

For N-Vorl’s part, he is more concerned with the here and now. The scent of Teresa’s flesh subtlety changes as she cycles through many emotions. Chemicals of fear, sadness, and arousal are more present in her blood; and N-Vorl has grown accustomed to the smell of every one of them. He rests a large hand at the base of Teresa’s neck. Tilting her head, he kisses the flesh under her throat and chin. Almost immediately, Teresa releases something which is between a gasp and a sigh. The hormone levels in her blood rise yet again, and her carotid pulsates harder.

N-Vorl is able to feel the change through the upper part of his mouth. His olfactory senses filling him in on what he has only suspected until now. For their mutual benefit, he chooses to keep her waiting no longer.