Five Hours Later

Dr. Boyd is seated at an enormous rectangular table completely covered with lab equipment. Her 'Devil's Workshop,' as Teresa's colleagues affectionately called it. Beakers of various chemicals, a large centrifuge, a souped-up Meker burner, a rack of test tubes, and most importantly a T.S. 444 microscope are strategically placed on the table's surface.

Dr. Boyd is not at all averse to modern technology; relying on it for a vast majority of her in-depth research and experimentation. Nevertheless, she has learned through years of study that sometimes simpler is better. Especially when performing experiments on the fly. Many manufacturers get so hung up on bells and whistles that they skimp on functionality. Oftentimes, she has found herself eschewing various pieces of expensive equipment--for their much more low-tech cousins.

However, microscopes are one piece of equipment she refuses to compromise on. The T.S. 444 is the best machine money can buy. One of the few things Dayshadow Industries managed to get right. Even Weyland Industries has struggled to make anything remotely comparable.

Teresa leans forward to study a new slide, circulating the magnifier to more than 1000x magnification. The image which greets her is as crisp as any photograph taken by National Geographic. Dr. Boyd smiles wistfully and whispers to no one in particular.

“Ahh. There you are,” she says.

Her concentration is broken by the sound of heavy footsteps to her right. Teresa glances up to see N-Vorl approaching. The large yautja stops beside her chair and removes his mask. He fixes Dr. Boyd with a stern glare, while speaking in the usual grating voice of a yautja attempting English.

“How are the…Experiments coming along?” N-Vorl demands.

Dr. Boyd turns back to her slides and hovers her eye over the electronic viewer. She pretends to only casually acknowledge the big yautja’s presence. In truth, his closeness causes her heart to race and she is overcome by a feeling she can’t explain. Similar to lightheadedness, without the vertigo. Her head throbs with what may be the beginning of another migraine.

Teresa vaguely remembers a similar sensation while working beside N-Vorl at the communications console, as well as in the lounge, and in her office--and pretty much everywhere they have ever been in close proximity. This particular yautja is doing a number on her psyche.

“As well as can be expected,” Teresa says. "Right now...I'm analyzing brain cells from Specimen Six. The one with the backward appendages. Found her dead in the corner of her tank a couple of hours ago. She had a partial oothecae attached to her rear end. There was nothing inside. The spinal fluid infusions aren't working. Most of the test subjects either die or are completely sterile. But, it's still early in the testing phase. We'll figure it out. I’m more worried about that projected disturbance. The more I think about it...The more worried I get. If we lose power—. Let’s just say, I don’t even want to think about that. The holding tanks will run on auxillary power for a few hours. After that, we’d better have a plan for containing every specimen we’ve got in the lab. Possibly by diverting all surplus energy to the tanks. It’s either that or euthanize them all. The chambers have a pipe underneath the floor which will allow us to filter in gas—if we find we have no better option. If the Judases manage to escape while your ship is in orbit...You won't have much to be returning for. Although, you may find the new batch extremely exhilarating to hunt. Perhaps, I probably shouldn't mention that. In the interest of self-preservation.”

Dr. Boyd removes her eye from the microscope’s viewer and finds N-Vorl studying a test tube from the rack. She reaches to grab the test tube from his prying hands, but recoils as she is slammed with a massive jolt of pain on one side of her head. A weak cry escapes her lips.

“Oh hell,” Teresa mutters and presses a hand against her temple.

N-Vorl carefully replaces the test tube in the rack and studies her. His eyes narrow questioningly. Teresa's teeth are tightly clenched and she grimaces as if in severe pain.

“What is wrong?” N-Vorl asks.

Teresa continues to clutch at her temple, while gripping the table and attempting to stand.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I feel—.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

No sooner is Teresa on her feet, then she is falling to the floor. Luckily, the sturdy lab chair is still in position. Dr. Boyd grabs the chair as she is falling, steadying herself. For his part, N-Vorl grips her under the armpit and keeps her from sprawling. Teresa peers up into his face and it appears to her as a bright blur. Breathing becomes almost a luxury as Teresa’s chest heaves up and down. Her lungs feel as if they are on fire and her heartbeat is greatly accelerated.

Teresa searches her mind for the one and only time she has ever felt anything remotely close to what she is feeling now. Richard. Their drunken kiss—on the pier overlooking the river leading into the heart of New Vegas. The trip back to his place. Cuddled deep in his warm embrace as they half-watched a vid on the holoscreen. Coming to the realization that neither of them wished it to go any further. Not yet. Not like that. Nevertheless, she will never forget the feeling—the rush—of simply getting to first base. So what the hell is this?

Heat radiates through Teresa like a flash-fever. She clutches the collar of her blouse and runs three fingers around the opening there, attempting to let in some air.

Could this be a result of her fainting spell in the shower? Did she hit her head? Or, maybe from nearly having her ribcage crushed by an enormous bad-tempered yautja? If so, why hadn’t any injuries shown up on the scans she’d performed on the lab’s med pod? Was this some sort of cross-species contamination or infection?

A thought occurs to her. The headaches, and odd sensations, manifest whenever N-Vorl approaches her or even stands nearby. Every time N-Vorl is near her, Teresa’s heart races and skips a weird beat. Has he done something to her? By mistake—or even intentionally? A chemical or biological weapon? Another of his famous aerosol sprays? Teresa hopes this isn’t the early onset of ptsd or an anxiety disorder. Maybe it’s just the heat?

Dr. Boyd barely has time to register any of this before her vision nearly blacks out. She is vaguely aware of N-Vorl lowering her into the crook of his arm. To her surprise, and unable to respond, Teresa feels N-Vorl’s hand move to the buttons on her blouse. He undoes the first button and Teresa’s breathing comes a little easier. Easier, being just a hair. She continues to gasp for air.

N-Vorl stares down at the ooman doctor with genuine concern. He glances around, but none of his companions have taken notice of the situation. The two nearest him, outside the lab room, are guarding the Judas specimens. Their backs are to him. From their position, they wouldn't be able to see much anyway.

N-Vorl suspects that the ooman female is having an especially strong reaction to male yautja body chemistry. Such is the case on many worlds. No one has yet figured out what sets off these sorts of episodes. Or which females, of any given species, are more prone to experience them.

What is known is that a small portion of yautja males secrete large amounts of pheromones which can also act as an aphrodisiac. N-Vorl has never experienced this for himself. At least, he doesn’t think so. Not until today. And certainly not with an ooman female. The very thought sends a tremor down N-Vorl's spine. Not of fear, but of indecision.

Teresa reaches up a hand and grips N-Vorl’s forearm. Her eyes remain closed and her mouth is agape. Reaching into the large belt around his waist, N-vorl brushes aside a skull hanging there and yanks free a small aerosol spray. He tilts Teresa’s head back and administers two sprays into her nostrils. Almost immediately, Teresa’s erratic breathing begins to slow. Her chest no longer heaves and her body grows more relaxed. As N-vorl watches, the color in Teresa’s cheeks recedes and her usual color returns.

A moment later, Teresa’s eyes flutter open. Her brown eyes lock on N-Vorl’s greenish-brown ones. A wry smile touches her lips as she recognizes the look of concern on N-Vorl’s usually stern face.

“I take it…You’ve done this before,” Teresa says coyly.

N-Vorl shakes his head before answering her in a reserved tone.

“No,” he responds.

Dr. Boyd sits up and her shoulder brushes against N-Vorl’s pectoral muscles. She turns to look directly into his face. Something she doesn't understand passes between them. It happens on a cellular level, as if every cell in her body is screaming for the same thing in a voice only her mind can hear. She reaches and calmly takes the spray from N-Vorl’s hand. He does not stop her. Studying the canister, and then returning her gaze to N-Vorl’s face, Teresa raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to need to study this,” she says. “Maybe there’s something in this spray I can use for my research.”

“If that is your wish,” N-Vorl says in a level tone. “Elder Glandis has ordered that we are to give you any assistance you might need. We are equals.”

Teresa’s gaze lingers on N-Vorl’s face a bit longer than she would have liked or expected. His sudden change in demeanor is both comforting and disconcerting. No matter. It is better that they all get along. For the sake of the project.

Teresa places a hand on the floor to support herself before standing. She is surprised when N-Vorl shakes his head. Climbing heavily to his feet, the large yautja offers her his hand. Teresa takes the offered hand and rises from the floor with N-Vorl's aid.

"Thanks," Dr. Boyd says.

N-Vorl simply nods and strolls away. He takes up a post at the far end of the room, arms crossed over his muscular chest. Teresa drops back down into her chair; to continue her work which was interrupted. When Dr. Boyd glances back over one shoulder, N-Vorl is staring directly at her, an amused expression on his face.

Dr. Boyd returns her attention to the specimen slides under the magnifier. The pounding in her chest returns, and she struggles to quell it. She decides to shift gears. Time to figure out what was in that aerosol he administered.