Science Wing
Security Station
The seven yautjas, and one human, round the corner—headed for the entrance to the main laboratory. N-Vorl carries the overstuffed duffle bag as if the weight of it means nothing to him. While still brandishing his combistick in the other hand. From time to time, Dr. Boyd hears the whir of a shoulder cannon targeting or the hum of a laser sight. However, not a single Judas appears in the corridors.
When the security station comes within view, Teresa stifles a startled cry. At least three colonial marines are sprawled on the floor; their bodies in various stages of decay and mutilation. Dropping her flamethrower and Orville rifle, Dr. Boyd hurries in the direction of a corpse lying only a foot or so away from the station’s enormous console.
Kneeling beside the corpse, Teresa uses a hand to stroke the left side of Security Chief Crew’s face. Her deepest fear realized, Teresa allows her head to fall to her chest. She shakes her head vigorously from side to side. In the back of her mind, a voice screams, and she desperately wishes she could wake up from this hellish nightmare. The events of the last few days are worse than anything she could have ever conceived in all of her years of space travel and cryosleep sessions.
“No,” Teresa utters softly.
As Dr. Boyd's anger grows, her voice becomes gradually louder. Until she is practically screaming.
“No! No! NO!” Teresa says in a voice alternating between a sob and a scream.
She uses her hand to close the security chief’s pale dead eyes, and then struggles to remove what remains of her lab coat. A strong hand grips Teresa’s forearm, and she whirls on N-Vorl. Teresa’s eyes narrow dangerously, and she doesn’t bother hiding her fury at N-Vorl’s interference.
“Don’t touch me!” Dr. Boyd roars.
So great is Teresa's anger and fear, that she nearly loses perspective. Her jaw clenches and she comes close to baring her teeth. Maybe this is the kind of anger a savage brute will understand.
“I knew him. He was a great man! I want to cover him up! Have you no respect for the dead?!” Teresa cries.
Dr. Boyd attempts to pull free, but N-Vorl tightens his grip on her arm. He tenses his muscles, preparing to yank Teresa to her feet. The robed elder, Glandis, chitters loudly.
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“Release the ooman,” Elder Glandis orders through his mask's interface.
N-Vorl bristles and glowers down at Teresa, whose colors are changing rapidly with her fiery mood. The female's eyes are narrowed and her jaw is tightly clenched. This level of emotion can only mean one thing. Trouble.
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“Elder, It is a mistake to trust this female,” N-Vorl says. “You see how she resists at every opportunity. She was close with the other ooman. It is obvious from her reaction to finding his body. She will want vengeance for his death. Mark my words, Elder. She will find a way to have said vengeance.”
Elder Glandis glances over one shoulder at his second-in-command, who has uttered something to his leader. N-Vorl stands to full attention, and presses the butt end of his combistick to the floor. With duo hisses of pressurized air; Elder Glandis removes his well-worn mask and glares into the face of his petulant subordinate. There is no mirth in the aged elder’s eyes as he meets N-Vorl’s gaze. He chastises N-Vorl in the language of their forefathers.
“When that time comes…We will deal with the ooman,” Elder Glandis intones. “But until then, you will watch where you step, youngblood. Let the ooman cover her dead. There isn’t much left of him. It should not take much time.”
N-Vorl nods and releases Teresa’s arm. She rubs vigorously at her arm before returning her attention to her dead fellow ooman.
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A verbal exchange, Teresa is unable to understand, commences over their interface. At one point, the elder becomes visibly angry and removes his battle-scarred mask. The elder alien soundly chastises N-Vorl in a foreign language. With shame, the younger yautja releases Teresa’s arm.
Dramatically pulling her arm away from N-Vorl, Teresa rubs at it vigorously, and then resumes removing her lab coat. She pushes down the emotion welling up inside of her; not wanting the seven alien warriors surrounding her to see her weakness.
“I’m so sorry, Richard,” Teresa whispers softly.
She covers her dead former lover with the lab coat, and kisses the tips of three fingers on her left hand. Pressing the same fingers against where Richard’s forehead would be, Teresa exhales a wary breath. P’taal offers her his hand and she climbs to her feet—shooting N-Vorl a hateful glare. Retrieving her Orville rifle and flamethrower, Teresa marches past N-Vorl.
“The lab is this way,” Teresa says dryly. “P’taal…You will observe the access codes. You may need them. Other forms of verification won't work without…Well…My living presence. So, I wouldn’t recommend anyone shooting me in the back with one of those shoulder cannon doohickeys.”
Dr. Boyd turns and peers directly at N-Vorl as she states this last fact. The warrior, his face hidden by his mask, is no doubt fuming at her overt insolence. She returns her attention to the front and begins inputting her access code into the wall keypad. She continues to speak as she does so. The sound of her voice distracting her from images of the dead humans, including Richard Crews, lying only feet away.
“I can override some of the controls manually…In order to give you more freedom to move around the ship," Teresa states in a sickly sweet voice. "After all, I am lead scientist…And therefore, I have a higher security clearance rating. But I may still have to do a little tech magic to work around some other security parameters. You’ll have to be…A little patient.”
The door slides open, and Teresa performs a dramatic wave of her hand.
“After you,” Teresa says to P’taal. “I figure, you'd want to make sure the coast is clear...For your elder.”
P’taal does not respond. He strolls confidently into the main lab. Teresa offers N-Vorl a sarcastic smile and a wink.
“Who knows, N-Vorl,” she says mockingly. “You may even get to kill something.”
N-Vorl’s head lowers slightly, and she knows that he is leveling his evil gaze in her direction.
“Who knows?” N-Vorls hisses cryptically. “Maybe, I will.”
Striding in after P’taal, N-Vorl swishes past Dr. Boyd. The human scientist sucks on her lower lip and then whirls in the direction of the lab doors.
“I thought...We agreed to no more threats,” she mutters under her breath.
Dr. Boyd bitterly follows the seven fierce aliens into the heart of the laboratory. The double doors sliding shut behind them.