Sometime Later

The automatic doors to the main lab open and a small contingent of as yet unfamiliar yautja warriors enter. The first, is obviously female, her stature much slighter than that of her male counterparts. However, she carries herself in the usual yautja manner: rigid, soldier-like stride; weapon in hand.

Dr. Boyd watches the group of aliens approach with an air of unease. So strange that only a few days ago, this vessel was home to over three-hundred humans. Now, aliens roam the ship at their leisure and humans are in short supply.

Glandis exits his quarters and meets the yautja female halfway. She extends her hand, with the palm facing upward, and he grips it in his own mottled hand.

“Glotis,” Elder Glandis says in a familiar tone. “I trust you found your way here without much interference.”

The yautja named Glotis casually removes her mask and hands it off to a subordinate behind her. A casual observer would immediately recognize the obvious family resemblance between Elder Glandis and his much younger sibling. Even for a species with only minimal variation between individuals, Glandis and Glotis are near spitting images of each other.

“Not much at all,” Glotis says with pride. “We put down two of the ooman's creations before we reached the science corridor. We have seen no more since that time.”

Teresa’s interest is piqued at news that the Judases have begun to encroach on the science wing. She had believed they were avoiding the science wing—because it was where they had been hatched and experimented on. The news that they are returning to this area of the ship is interesting to say the least. There must be a reason for their sudden migration. Perhaps, they sense that this is where the enemy—and their food source, is holed up.

Teresa walks slowly over to where Elder Glandis and Glotis are conferring. As she does so, she secretly studies the yautja female. Despite her tall stature; there is no denying that Glotis is in fact female.

Adorned in similar fashion as her male counterparts, Glotis lacks the bulky leg protectors. Underneath her thinner metal breastplate, and mesh suit, Glotis wears two articles of clothing which closely resemble a halter top and miniskirt. While Glotis is not as muscular as her male companions; her biceps, abdomen, and calves are evenly muscled and toned. Also, the spacing of Glotis’ mesh is much smaller, accentuating the fullness of her bosom. The suit functioning in much the same way as an ooman bra. Teresa marvels at this. While the yautja appear to be descendants of a reptilian race; they must also share a mammalian ancestor as well. The fluorescent green blood is a little puzzling though. Without more study, there is no way to be sure of anything.

A ping of jealousy creeps into Dr. Boyd as she observes the casual air with which the female yautja mingles with the males of her species. They seem to readily accept Glotis. No pulling rank. No questioning of experience due to gender differences. No inappropriate gawking. Glotis is truly one with her kind.

Glotis notices Dr. Boyd staring and turns to the human scientist. She offers her hand in the same manner that she offered it to Elder Glandis.

“You are Dr. Teresa Boyd?" Glotis says in a distinctly feminine voice. Glotis’ voice contains the same odd resonance present in that of the male yautja; but in a softer, sweeter tone.

“Yes,” Teresa says and takes the offered hand.

She stares at the clawed fingers of Glotis hand, observing every detail. Even the skin of Glotis’ hand is softer. The jealousy again. Any human male observing Glotis, save for her face and mottled green-yellow skin, would find her handsome and comely.

“You are the ooman responsible for the creatures infesting this ship?” Glotis says in a playfully mocking tone.

“Not entirely,” Teresa responds, fighting back another wave of envy. “The humans who originally created the Judas died many years ago. I simply altered their research and made new creatures. Nature and evolution did the rest.”

Teresa looks around Glotis to see the strange device held by one of the female yautja’s companions.

“Did you manage to snag the heads of the two Judases you killed? Or at least, the scent glands? I want to see what genetic soup these newest bastards are cooking up. And a fresh batch of pheromones. I really need more of those. Please tell me you at least brought back one of their scent glands?” Teresa pleads.

“We did not!” Glotis states calmly.

Teresa releases a deep sigh and places a hand on her hip. Glotis seems thoroughly intrigued. She tilts her head, in the way that Teresa has come to expect from all yautja, and her gray eyes narrow.

“Why do you wish to have their heads? Will any part not do?” Glotis inquires.

Teresa considers what little she knows of yautja culture and realizes what Glotis is getting at.

“I’m not asking you to scavenge trophies for me. If that's what you mean?" Teresa explains. “From what I understand, that would be dishonorable. I was hoping you’d brought me the heads in order to analyze the brains and map their genetic evolution. It would also help in the harvesting of certain chemicals. The scent glands are for a spray I’m perfecting which will allow your warriors to disguise their natural scent and stay hidden from the bugs. I don’t really want to attempt a purely synthetic version, because the chances of failure go up significantly. Each individual Judas in a colony has their own special scent markers. Without those markers, your hunters may walk into a trap. Especially, if they manage to disturb a nest. I’d rather avoid any unnecessary casualties.”

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Teresa runs a hand over her brow. She considers her next words very carefully. Chancing a peek at N-Vorl, Teresa forges ahead. She appeals especially to Elder Glandis, who is observing her with a keen eye.

“Which means…I’m gonna have to go out there. At least, this one time. I need the samples, and we need fresh pheromones. I can show your scientists what I'm looking for. What I'll need from here on out. So…This might be the perfect time for a hunt. Since I know you guys…Uh…Yautja…Are into that sort of thing.”

Glotis turns to Elder Glandis. Her expression goes from one of boredom to one of complete exasperation.

“Is that really necessary?! Scent glands? My warriors had no such scent glands. Yet, we defeated these—ooman bugs...With no trouble.” Glotis says.

“Yeahhhh!” Teresa says with doubt in her voice. “There’s a huge problem with that?”

Glotis believes that Dr. Boyd is calling her a liar. She bristles at the assumed accusation.

“Do you disbelieve what I tell you?” Glotis demands.

“No…No,” Teresa says, holding up a hand. “The problem isn’t you…Or your hunters. The problem is the Judases. Why did they let you see them? The Judases should be masters of disguise by now. Especially, now that they can mimic your invisibility cloaking. And why so few in number? I believe they wanted to be seen. There’s something going on in the bigger picture. And it’s best that we find out exactly what it is. We let them control the game…And the hunter becomes the hunted. I really need those brains.”

Glotis fixes Elder Glandis in a stern glare. No words pass between them, but then again, who needs words with a face like a yautja’s? Teresa is sure that Glotis’ fiery look is due to being grossly misinformed as to the Judases’ capabilities. Elder Glandis simply returns his younger sibling’s admonishing stare. Teresa chances a brief interruption.

“So…What’s in the shiny metal container?” Teresa asks.

She is once again staring at the oblong metal object held by Glotis’ subordinate. Glotis puts out her hand, palm up, towards the subordinate and he takes several steps forward. The warrior places the strange object on the table. Glotis presses a button on the side of the metal object and the top of the device opens with a release of pressurized air. The lid slowly rises from inside the container and Glotis pulls it out the rest of the way. Attached to the lid, by thin metal threads, are strings of small glasslike beads. Inside each bead floats a tiny embryo. With a gasp, Teresa inches closer, not believing her eyes.

“Oh…My—!” Teresa mutters.

She reaches to touch one of the beads. The weight of the bead is so slight that the metal thread sways a little. Teresa instinctively reaches out her other hand to steady the swinging thread of beads.

“What are they?” Teresa gasps.

“Stasis globes,” Glotis says, as if that answer should be obvious. “We use them to store the embryos of every hunt beast we’ve encountered throughout the galaxy. And then, some.”

“No. I mean…What are they?” Teresa coos—pointing to a small pale organism floating near the center of the closest thread. “I’ve never seen an organism like that before.”

“And you wouldn’t have,” Glotis replies. “These specimens were harvested a great distance away from your planet. Your kind has not yet reached the level of technological advancement needed to explore many of these worlds.”

“Nice to feel wanted,” Teresa mutters.

She studies the pale embryo very closely. It resembles a gray-pink worm with tiny legs, a long tail, and a bulbous elongated head. It is definitely not like any creature she's ever studied.

"Ugh. Strange," Teresa says with a shiver.

Teresa stands to her full height. Her vision skims over the room full of aliens. Standing in a laboratory teeming with towering yautja isn’t doing very much to soothe her dashed ego.

“If we’re going to get that sample…We’d better do it soon,” Teresa exclaims. “I’d like it if we went out there together, Glotis. You can see first-hand what I was telling you about the Judases’ camouflage. Maybe you can add some insight. Assuming they let your warriors get close a second time.”

Glotis nods in agreement. She glances at Elder Glandis, who is staring with irritation at the ooman scientist.

“I would never turn down the opportunity for a hunt,” Glotis says with a smile.

P’taal visibly bristles. The tall yautja’s mandibles click twice and then close tight. The loose folds around his mouth grow taunt and his expression resembles that of an angry schoolmarm. Teresa observes this unconscious reaction with the mildest of curiosity.

-

-

Dr. Boyd observes the newly arrived group of yautja with more than moderate interest. These new yautja seem more subdued in their demeanor. Less combative. Almost prim and proper in the way they go about their business. Scientists indeed. Scientists with high-powered spaceguns on their shoulders, knives on their wrists, and murderous extendable spears on their belts. Sure. Just your run of the mill, average, intergalactic scientists.

Glotis' lieutenant--or whatever--is of particular interest. Very tall and wiry, he almost doesn't fit in. The only other yautja of similar physique is Elder Glandis' second-in-command. However, what the Second lacks in girth, he makes up in height and muscle--his biceps much larger than should be proportionate for his body size. Lenaa, Dr. Boyd believes the wiry yautja is called, quite simply looks more the part of a scientist than any of his counterparts. Without the fancy accessories, he could don a lab coat and not raise a single eyebrow.

Dr. Boyd finishes her visual study of her new alien companions and heads for her quarters to change. The last thing she wants is to gag on her own body odor while stuffed into a combat suit. Since the arrival of the first group of yautja, the temperature in the lab has been kept beyond stifling.

As Teresa passes N-Vorl, he reaches out a hand to grip her left forearm. Quickly reconsidering, he hovers his clawed hand near her arm. Her angry words, during their previous argument, must finally be sinking in. Teresa turns to face him with a smug expression.

"Did you need something?" Teresa mocks, her eyes narrowing.

N-Vorl's mandibles open and he also narrows his eyes. His left hand flexes as if he wishes to strangle the life from the ooman scientist with his own bare hands. Teresa observes this motion with a racing heart. Will this yautja ever get over his silly mistrust? Teresa takes a daring step toward N-Vorl.

"Can you at least pretend...For one teensy second...That you don't want me dead, N-Vorl?" Teresa boldly comments. "It might make things go a lot smoother around here. I'm not your enemy. Believe me...If I were...You'd know it. And we wouldn't be having this conversation."

N-Vorl's mouth curls into his usual sneer and he takes a backward step. Crossing his arms over his wide chest, N-Vorl mocks Teresa's mannerisms.

"Try not to get killed while collecting your precious samples, ooman," N-Vorl says. "How will we ever continue the project without you?"

Arrogantly swiveling away from Teresa, N-Vorl marches in the opposite direction. He crosses to where P'taal and Glotis are conferring near the mostly empty Judas tanks. Teresa watches him go. While swallowing the lump rising in her throat, and willing the nausea creeping into her body to go away.