Laboratory Twelve
Teresa stares at the current slide under the magnifier. With an air of confidence, Dr. Boyd moves away from the microscope and reclines backward in her chair. She rubs at her abdomen with one hand and reaches into her lab coat with the other. She withdraws a small vial of pale liquid. Her own little secret.
Breaking down the key components of N-Vorl’s aerosol spray had been easy. Finding the right mix of hormones to elicit a similar response in the big yautja had been the hard part. Not that he had needed much prodding. Either way, she had gotten what she needed. In the event that their lovemaking proves to be unsuccessful; artificial insemination is always an option. There are always other options.
She’d considered simply using P’taal’s DNA. However, the DNA of a future elder is a lot more suitable. Perhaps, the new species which arises from N-Vorl’s genetic soup will be alpha-predators. Greater even than their ancient predecessors. N-Vorl’s legacy will live on long after he has passed.
Rubbing her stomach yet again, Dr. Boyd feels a sharp twinge of pain from deep within. She chalks it up to butterflies and goes back to her previous work.
Elder Glandis’ hunting party arrives over an hour later, bearing gifts of Judas scent glands and severed heads. N-Vorl moves to greet his leader. A tense moment follows, as Elder Glandis silently appraises N-Vorl. Teresa’s heart pounds in her chest and she hopes that there will be no fallout.
Elder Glandis also carries the pheromone gene. His senses will be no less acute than N-Vorl's. Even after a thorough cleansing, can the aged leader sense that something is different in his nephew? And if so, how will he react to this change? Teresa's heart continues to beat uncontrollably, at the idea of a fierce confrontation between the two elders—the old and the overlooked.
The moment passes, and Elder Glandis offers N-Vorl a fist—in which are clenched at least five Judas scent glands. N-Vorl bows respectfully, his mask obscuring his face and his new love wounds, and takes the offered glands.
Elder Glandis marches away without so much as another growl or chitter. His contingent—all of whom seem to have survived the hunt, go about their various business. N-Vorl strides to where Teresa is seated and hands her the scent glands. Teresa takes them with slight embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” Teresa says as N-Vorl whirls on his heels to leave.
N-Vorl turns back in her direction. His eyes search Teresa's face as if expecting the source of her distress to be written there.
“For what do you apologize?” the warrior demands.
“If I have brought you shame,” Teresa says.
N-Vorl removes his mask, and places it on a nearby table, to avoid having his words overheard. He closes the distance between himself and Dr. Boyd. Lowering himself to her level, he gazes into her eyes.
“He does not know. Or at least, I do not think so,” N-Vorl says. “He only wondered why I greeted him in the way of one going to battle. Why I did not remove my mask. I told him, it was because I expected to battle the enemy should they approach on his heels. This is only a partial truth. I do not make it a habit to hide things from my leaders. Do not make me regret having done so now.”
Teresa nods silently and respectfully. She remembers the closeness of their bodies and the warmth of his skin. She remembers how he attempted to calm her when she had panicked. The hint of tenderness hidden beneath his fierce warrior exterior. The real N-Vorl.
“Don’t worry, N-Vorl,” Teresa says, wishing she could grasp his hand. “I won’t.”
Taking up his mask in a large hand, N-Vorl strolls from the room. Teresa watches him go with narrowed eyes and a solemn expression.
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As silently as a ghost, Glotis approaches Teresa's workstation. The yautja scientist has spent the last few hours cleaning her trophies and conferring with P'taal. This is her first time laying eyes on Dr. Boyd since returning from the hunt. Glotis reaches out a hand and touches the small bandage affixed to Teresa’s neck. Teresa jumps with surprise. She is at least a tiny bit reassured to see it is only Glotis.
“Did you injure yourself, ooman?” Glotis asks.
Teresa grips the collar of her blouse and repositions it so that the bandage is concealed. She scrambles for a believable lie.
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“Yes…Uh…The centrifuge,” Dr. Boyd says. “I turned it on before I had secured the lid. One of the test tubes burst and ejected pieces of glass. I’m just glad it didn’t do more damage to the equipment.”
Glotis offers Teresa a blank look. Teresa is unsure if the yautja female believes her lie. However, she doesn’t dare try to elaborate.
“Oh,” Glotis says. “At least you are okay. We can continue our experiments."
Without another word, Glotis strides defiantly away. Teresa's heart beats solidly in her chest and she presses a hand to her bosom. Visions of N-Vorl, and the time they spent together, swirl in her mind. Why hadn't she remembered to use the damn med pod?
The yautja warrior has been making himself rather scarce the last few hours. Popping in and out only on occasion. Usually under the pretense of meetings with Elder Glandis, collecting data for mission reports, being regaled by his hunter brethren, and admiring the trophies of others. Even going so far as to feign hunger or tiredness. Something the sturdy yautja has not done the entire time she has known him.
Teresa is sure he is avoiding her as much as possible. Intentionally, and with good reason. Dr. Boyd presses her hand harder against her chest; willing her heart to slow it's rapid beating. Simply thinking about N-Vorl is enough to send her brain into a tailspin. How is she going to get through the next two days without letting something slip or blowing their cover?
N-Vorl chooses this moment to stride heavily into the lab. He stops when he catches sight of Teresa. Leaning against the wall, in his usual spot, N-Vorl crosses his arms over his chest in customary fashion. Teresa quickly turns away from him. A smile builds on her lips, and she unfastens one of the buttons on her blouse. And then another.
Going back to her simulations, Teresa plugs in more data for the computer to integrate. The first simulation had been a success. Even if the actual test subjects eventually died. If at first you don't succeed; try, try again. The Judas is evidence of that. Perhaps, the problem is that they are using already mutated DNA. A pure sample might yield better results. They could try injecting the mutated Judas cells into the perfectly healthy cells of the stasis embryos.
Teresa is still considering what she will say to Glotis, when N-Vorl's footsteps approach her workstation. She hesitates to meet his gaze, afraid of what she will see there.
"Have you eaten...Ooman?" N-Vorl inquires.
He attempts indifference, but Teresa can sense there is more to his question. He isn't just checking up on her.
"I'm not hungry at the moment," Teresa responds. "Maybe later. I've got a lot of work to do. Stopping to eat will just slow me down. I've lost more time than I care to admit already."
N-Vorl glances around before laying a hand on Teresa's shoulder. She tenses and he partially withdraws his hand. His voice is calm and reassuring.
"You must keep up your strength," N-Vorl says softly. "Do not wait too long to eat. We cannot afford you falling ill."
N-Vorl finishes his statement and turns to go. Teresa waits until he is a fair distance away and then spins in her seat. The large yautja senses her gaze upon him and peers over one shoulder. Teresa's throat tightens as their eyes meet. Just as she thought. The same look is in his eyes as the emotion which races through her heart. This is going to be a difficult next two days.
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N-Vorl stands silently in Lab Room Seven. The lights are off and he stares vacantly through the circular viewport.
The door to the lab opens and Glotis enters. She glides effortlessly toward N-Vorl. The huge warrior only partially turns when she is close by his side. He immediately returns his attention forward. One of the planet’s three suns is visible, as is another planet with multiple rings. N-Vorl stares at the celestial bodies with an expression of near loneliness.
“You have always used your fists and your blades more than your mouth,” Glotis teases. “But, you’ve had very little to say, N-Vorl. You do not even grumble against the ooman anymore. Do you hunger for the hunt?”
“Of course, I wish to hunt,” N-Vorl says, keeping his eyes forward. “But, there is nothing for me to say. The ooman is doing as we asked. Her information has proven invaluable to us. As much as it may pain me to work with an ooman…My feelings are of little consequence now.”
Glotis nods understandingly and reaches out a hand to gently touch N-Vorl’s arm. N-Vorl glances down at the hand on his forearm and covers it with his own.
“Once our work is completed, you will have an adversary worthy of your cunning and prowess,” Glotis exclaims. A smile spreads across her face. “Despite what you may believe....No one here doubts your skill, N-Vorl! Not even the ooman. She has said so before. She worries that you are cleverer than you seem.”
N-Vorl releases a soft chuff from his throat and offers Glotis a playful glare.
“Then, I have not been clever enough,” N-Vorl mocks through a wide smile. “I shall have to be more careful.”
Once again growing solemn, N-Vorl squeezes Glotis hand. She responds by placing her other hand atop the hand which is doing the squeezing.
“Will you be joining Elder Glandis on his final hunt…Before our ship leaves the planet?” N-Vorl inquires. There is no trace of envy in his voice, only genuine interest.
“I am not sure,” Glotis admits. “We are close to achieving several important stages in the hybridization process. I don’t want to lose valuable time. The Judases will still be here when we return to the planet.”
“This is true,” N-Vorl says. “But I know P’taal will take pleasure in your company.”
Glotis’ eyes widen and she stares at N-Vorl with an expression akin to fear.
“Then, you mean—” she whispers.
N-Vorl silences her with a headshake. He does not wish Glotis to condemn herself by speaking the truth from her own mouth.
“I only know he cares deeply for your safety. He will feel better knowing you are where he can watch over you and protect you.” N-Vorl lies.
“Then, I will accompany him,” Glotis exclaims.
All traces of Glotis' previous fears are gone. It is replaced by a prideful confidence. N-Vorl smiles knowingly and turns back to the viewport.
Glotis whirls and exits the room. N-Vorl does not watch her go. His mind is suddenly flooded with memories. Memories of soft flesh and tender embraces. He clenches a fist at his side, in an effort to stem the flow of emotional energy surging through his body. What have they done?