Teresa climbs to her feet and glances from N-Vorl to P’taal. Her eyes return to the weapon perched on N-Vorl’s left shoulder.

“That’s a very handy weapon,” Dr. Boyd says. “When do I get a weapon like that?”

N-Vorl’s answer is short and succinct.

“Never!” N-Vorl growls.

With a swift turn on his heels, the large yautja arrogantly stomps up the hallway in the direction of the communications wing. Teresa makes a sarcastic face behind him and rolls her eyes.

“Never!” Dr. Boyd repeats in a low mocking voice. She turns to P’taal.

“Tell your friend to wait up,” Teresa says. “We need to do something about that injury to your leg. The smell of your blood will be very attractive to the Judases.”

Teresa points to a metal engineering bench a few feet away. P’taal strolls to it and sits down. He retrieves a small metal box from a pressurized compartment on his leg armor. Teresa yanks a handkerchief from the pocket of her lab coat, but continues to watch P’taal. N-Vorl stands a short distance off, scanning for danger.

Using the handkerchief to clean the blood from P’taal’s leg, Teresa presses the edges of the wound together. P’taal affixes a small device to the area and his hand does a strange quiver. Teresa is almost sure that what he is about to do is going to hurt like hell. She squeezes his other knee and nods reassuringly. P’taal presses on the device and it staples the wound together with a loud snap. P’taal does not holler, but he does let out a low growl. Teresa pats his knee and dabs at the edges of the wound; to remove any remnants of blood.

She uses this opportunity to consider the unusual creature before her. P'taal's flesh is nearly the same complexion as his robed leader. However, there is more green spread throughout. Tiny dark spots like freckles are sprinkled along all of his exposed flesh. The mesh of P'taal's suit is thicker than the elder's, and he wears less skulls around his waist and back. Definitely no human skulls present. A large symbol is burned into the front of his armor. No charring is present. Almost as if the armor were melted instead. She tries to make out the entire symbol, but the dim lighting makes it impossible. Teresa finishes her visual examination and speaks softly to her alien patient.

“Do you have any water?” she inquires. “There's blood running down your entire leg. I’m just smearing it around at this point.”

She tosses the soiled handkerchief away, and uses Harold’s knife to rip off a large portion from the bottom of her lab coat. P’taal pulls a small cylinder from his implement belt and opens the lid. He hands the canister to Teresa and she places a corner of the ripped material over the opening of the cylinder. A sweet-smelling liquid pours out and moistens the material. Teresa hands the metal cylinder back to P’taal and thoroughly cleans the flesh of his leg, even getting between the mesh of his battle suit.

“Sir N-Vorl,” Dr. Boyd calls softly. “Would you mind bringing me the scent gland from the bug you splattered everywhere? I’m going to need it for P'taal's wound. You know…To throw the bugs off our scent.”

N-Vorl reluctantly ejects his wrist blades and goes to work removing the scent gland from the Judas he slay only moments before. Bringing the gland to Teresa, he drops it disrespectfully on the floor beside her. Teresa shakes her head, but otherwise pays his obstructive attitude no heed. She fixes her gaze on P’taal and offers him a wistful smile.

“This might sting a bit,” she states in a soft tone. “But after the pain you just put yourself through…It’ll be nothing.”

Pressing the scent gland against P’taal’s wound, rubbing it up and down his entire leg, Teresa makes sure that he is once again covered with Judas pheromone. She tosses the soiled piece of lab coat in the same direction she tossed the dirty handkerchief and climbs to her feet. She offers P’taal her hand, knowing he doesn’t need it to stand—but offering it anyway. P’taal takes the offered hand and stands to his full height.

“We’d better hurry,” Dr. Boyd says. “The smell of fresh blood is going to act like a dinner bell. Activate your cloak. Make things a little harder for them.”

“You have no cloak!” P’taal says with genuine concern.

“I don’t need one,” Teresa says, a smile building on her face. “I have you two. And I can always cut out more scent glands from our dead Judas friends. Don’t worry about me."

The courage behind Dr. Boyd’s speech fades once P’taal and N-Vorl activate their cloaks. As the yautjas disappear from view, Teresa tries to hold back her fear. Would they abandon her? Teresa has a hard time believing P’taal would do such a thing. But N-Vorl is a completely different story.

-

-

Communications Wing- Central Hub

Teresa stalks toward the security station at the center of the Communications hub. The strap of her flamethrower is over one shoulder, and the Orville rifle is pressed tightly to the other shoulder. To use the flamethrower this close to communications central would be reckless indeed.

Walking around the center console, Teresa takes in her surroundings. She props the rifle up against the console, ready at a moment’s notice, and then punches several codes into the central computer.

“Good day, Dr. Boyd!” the female computer chirps. “Access code accepted. Please state a command.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Teresa inserts Theodore's USB device while inputting the necessary command. The main computer readily spits out a reply.

“Last communication between Dayshadow Industries and the California was more than one-hundred-and seventy-one hours ago. No outgoing messages waiting in the computer’s queue. Systems operating on reserve power only. Please input a command to begin virus purge protocols. Download must commence before auxiliary power levels fall below fifty-three percent.”

Teresa releases a loud sigh and her fingers fly over the console. She considers using the USB device to generate an encrypted SOS message to send back to Earth or Command Central. However, she has no idea where the two aliens are. They could be watching her every move. Better to wait.

“Well…Okay,” she mutters to herself.

Just then, a shadow passes quickly over the console. Staring into the reflective surface of the computer’s main screen, Teresa catches a glimpse of the partially camouflaged Judas scrambling back and forth above her. And it is not a pretty sight.

For the most part, the Judas blends in perfectly with the metal ducts and conduits. It is the face and head of the creature that gives it away. In its hurry to create a perfect facial imitation of the dead Bess Trainor, the creature failed to account for the lack of dark pigmentation in Bess’ skin. Like the round bold crest of the Periplaneta Americana; the insectile imitation of Bess’ pale face stands out in sharp relief. The fact that the face is upside down adds more absurdity to the whole situation.

Teresa lowers her hand to the rifle’s grip. She gradually pulls the weapon up, centimeter by painstaking centimeter. The Judas creeps forward, pulling itself along using the pipes, conduits, and beams.

“Oh…Hell!” Teresa says in a husky whisper.

Grabbing the rifle and hurling herself backward, Teresa aims and fires. She falls to the right, as the blast sends the creature back up into the ducting and then crashing to the floor. Rolling to get away from the falling creature, Teresa rolls onto her back and then sits up—firing on the Judas a second time.

The second blast blows the demonic mimicry of Bess Trainor’s head into a thousand or so pieces. Carapace and insect fluids flies everywhere. Including on the still seated Teresa. She groans deep in her throat and uses the Orville rifle to prop herself up to a standing position.

Dr. Boyd is angry as hell as she stands over the dead Judas. Pride enters Teresa’s heart at being able to rip poor Bess’ face off of the wretched insect's body. Aiming her Orville rifle at the downed insect, in case it is not really dead, Teresa pokes it with the rifle muzzle. After the third time, she is satisfied that the bug is dead.

Once again brandishing Harold’s knife, Dr. Boyd cuts into the creature and yanks out the coveted scent gland. N-Vorl and P’taal choose this time to rematerialize. Teresa throws them both a hard look.

“You know…I could have really used you guy’s help!” Teresa chides her companions.

N-Vorl speaks up for them both. He steps over to where Dr. Boyd kneels beside the Judas and stares down at the corpse.

“P’taal was performing reconnaissance,” N-Vorl says smoothly. “And I felt you had things well under control!”

“You did…Did you?” Teresa says sarcastically. “Good help is so freaking hard to find.”

Teresa returns to the security console and inputs the command to commence the virus purge protocols. The computer verifies her command and a countdown clock appears on the screen. Teresa is surprised when N-Vorl leans forward, his shoulder brushing hers. He points to the screen and there is agitation in his voice.

“What is that?” he inquires.

“That...Is the countdown for a complete system reset,” Teresa says

Dr. Boyd runs a hand through her presently untamed black hair. Now more than ever, she wants a shower. And an Aspirin. She can feel a really bad headache coming on.

“Once it’s completed, most of the ship's systems should come back online," Teresa explains. "If the saboteur only shut the systems down and didn’t completely damage them…We may even get more power back. If he did damage them, we’re going to have to do some repairs. Any engineers in your group?”

“We are all engineers,” N-Vorl says pridefully. He puffs out his chest as he speaks. “Your technology is quite antiquated. I’m sure there isn’t anything on this ship we cannot fix.”

Dr. Boyd studies N-Vorl with a look of disdain. She eventually looks away and goes back to her work checking system output levels and making sure that the virus purge is doing its intended job. N-Vorl studies her as well; trying to understand this strange ooman female who shows almost no fear.

Teresa finishes her task and ejects the USB device from the central computer. Standing erect, Dr. Boyd crosses to a nearby door. She inputs a code in the keypad and a red status message illuminates. Teresa tries her code a second time, but to no avail.

“Oh…Hell!” Teresa mutters sarcastically and raises the Orville rifle to her shoulder.

Teresa shoots the keypad and the door gradually draws open. Lucky for her, the supply closet isn't a truly secure area. The keypad is mostly for show. Otherwise, that trick might not have worked. Or worse, triggered a security shutdown.

With an exasperated sigh, Teresa enters the room. P’taal and N-Vorl exchange a brief glance and then join Dr. Boyd in the room. Grabbing several walkie talkies from a charging station, Teresa shoves a few extra batteries into her lab coat pocket. She turns two of the radios on and tosses them to P’taal and N-Vorl respectively. N-Vorl catches the radio, but he is obviously not happy.

“Your excessive noise will have alerted the Judases to our presence,” N-Vorl growls.

Teresa turns on her radio and shoots N-Vorl a sarcastic smirk. She offers him a slow wink.

“Oh…I think you can handle whatever comes our way, N-Vorl!” Teresa teases. “Besides, they’re coming whether we like it or not. Those radios…Are in case we get separated. I don’t have one of your handy little mask communication setups. So…We’ll use these. Don't worry...The volume is set very low.”

Teresa moves swiftly to another part of the room and yanks free a large duffle bag from the storage rack. She begins shoving things inside. She points to a large piece of painter’s plastic.

“Can you give me that thin sheet of…Clear stuff. The sheet you can see through. On that table over there?” Teresa calls to P’taal.

P’taal silently hands Dr. Boyd the large sheet of painter’s plastic.

“Thank you,” Teresa says and folds the sheet of plastic up. She places it in the duffle as well. “I think we can go now. We should get back to the others. But first, put on some more of this scent stuff and activate your cloaks. We need to go full stealth from here on out. Like N-Vorl said…They’ll be coming because of all the racket.”

Teresa cuts off a piece of scent gland for herself and rubs it over her exposed flesh and clothes. The two yautjas do the same, not liking it one bit.

Dr. Boyd squeezes between the two large aliens and exits the storage room. She crosses to the sprawled corpse of the Bess Judas and removes what remains of the grotesque head. Which isn't much. She wraps the insect’s severed head in the painter’s plastic and shoves it in the duffle bag. When she stands, both P’taal and N-Vorl are staring in her direction; their heads tilted comically.

“It's for research,” Teresa explains. “I need to know exactly what genetic mutations this particular specimen has undergone. That camouflage was pretty impressive. I’m almost sure it’s an early-stage variation of your own camouflage. But I’ll have to do some testing first. It would help if the head were more intact, but I'll take what I can get. This bug really ticked me off."

Zipping the duffle bag, Teresa struggles to carry it, the flamethrower, and her Orville rifle. But somehow she manages.