Teresa finally takes full notice of Mau-Nis, who is positioned to N-Vorl’s left. Her eyes fall to the greatly enhanced version of late Security Chief Richard’s mech-arm gun; which is attached to Mau-Nis’ right shoulder. He also sports a new plasmacaster on his left shoulder. His first shoulder cannon having been lost in the battle with the Judases which cost Elder Glandis his life.

Releasing N-Vorl’s waist, Teresa moves around the massive warrior. Her focus is solely on Mau-Nis’ gun arm. She gazes upon it with something bordering on idol worship.

“Wow!” Dr. Boyd coos. “I love what you’ve done with Richard’s prototype weapon.”

Teresa steps in front of Mau-Nis and examines the weapon. She gently grips it with both hands and examines every inch of the mechanical masterpiece. She glances up at Mau-Nis’ masked face and there is mischief in her eyes.

“Let me guess. It uses plasma…Like your caster?” Teresa jokes. “Or maybe some other form of yautja wizardry?”

Behind Teresa, N-Vorl bristles. P’taal notices the change in N-Vorl’s mood and stiffens as well. He tilts his head to peer at Mau-Nis. Mau-Nis seems not to notice any of this. The second-in-command appeals to Dr. Boyd in a level tone.

“You are correct,” Mau-Nis replies. “I specifically modified the mechanical arm to release bursts of plasma energy rather than the tiny ooman pellets. There is an extreme shortage of such things amongst yautja supply lines.”

Dr. Boyd manages a laugh at Mau-Nis’ casual use of humor. The first real laugh she has managed in the entire time she has been on Facility Thirteen.

“I’m sure there would be,” Teresa says. “I never even thought of that. I guess, I figured you’d adapt the weapon somehow. But this…This is wonderful, Mau-Nis.”

Teresa continues to smile, her hand sliding over the metal of Mau-Nis’ new plasma weapon. Her face droops as she remembers brave Richard Crews. Her past and late lover.

“Richard would be so proud,” Teresa says softly—to no one in particular. “He loved his weapons. He would’ve loved to see this.”

Teresa’s eyes narrow and she blinks away tears which threaten to pool at the corners of her eyes. A cloud seems to cross Dr. Boyd’s features and her smile disappears. She turns away from Mau-Nis with a polite nod.

“N-Vorl…What are you all doing here? How did you even know where I was?” Teresa questions.

Deep down inside, Teresa is terrified of the answer. She is afraid that it won’t make any sense. So far, it doesn’t make any sense. How did the three beings, she has thought about the most, just happen to appear on the station? After all of the torture, and all of the food and sleep deprivation, is she finally out of her mind? Is any of this real? And how would she know if it wasn’t?

“We have several ships in this sector,” N-Vorl states. “One of our ships picked up an ooman transmission. The message stated that a scientist from the Judas Project was being transported here. We knew of only one ooman scientist who had survived. That was you.”

Teresa eyes N-Vorl suspiciously. Dr. Boyd still only half-believes that what she is experiencing is real. She searches for clues, watching every movement the three yautja make.

“So…You just turned your ships around and brought them here?” Teresa asks.

“Not exactly,” P’taal interjects.

Teresa turns to look fully in P’taal’s direction. The somewhat submissive yautja shifts uncomfortably. Teresa scrutinizes him with wary eyes.

“We’ve been tasked with bringing you back to Yautja Prime,” P’taal says.

“What? Why?” Teresa inquires.

Teresa’s eyes are wide with surprise when she spins to face N-Vorl. The Elder-Apparent glares at P’taal. P’taal stares back, face hidden by his mask.

“It is the council’s belief that you possess information about yautja technology and scientific applications—,” N-Vorl begins. “Which might prove…Concerning…Should it fall into the wrong hands.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Mau-Nis steps forward as Teresa takes a step backward—away from N-Vorl. Teresa’s countenance alters to mirror her heightened level of disbelief. She laughs mirthlessly.

“You’re not here to rescue me from the horrible oomans!” Teresa hisses. “You’re here to make sure it’s your side which comes out on top! Rather than being interrogated by other humans, I can look forward to being tortured by your people instead.”

N-Vorl takes a step toward Dr. Boyd, but Mau-Nis puts out an arm to stop him. The second-in-command recognizes something is off about Teresa’s behavior. At present, she is not herself. He chitters softly at N-Vorl, who nods imperceptibly. N-Vorl’s mouth tightens and he exhales deeply. He manages to keep his voice calm, despite wanting to grab Teresa up and make her listen to him.

“Who said anything about torture, Teresa?” N-Vorl asks. “The council only wishes to question you about your time at this facility. They wish to know what information the oomans sought. At my tribunal, I told them you were not a threat. As did P’taal, Glotis, and Mau-Nis. Other yautja, who spent time aboard the downed ooman ship, spoke on your behalf as well. You will be safe, once you return with us.”

Teresa tilts her head in confusion and she considers what N-Vorl has said.

“Your tribunal?!” Teresa exclaims. “Why? Were you suspected of something also?”

N-Vorl glances at both Mau-Nis and P’taal. For the briefest of moments, a deafening silence fills the corridor. N-Vorl's mandibles flare and he averts his gaze upward. When his green eyes resettle on Teresa's face, they are filled with sadness and grief.

“Elder Glandis’ death was considered…Suspicious,” N-Vorl confesses. “If not for the testimony of Glotis and Mau-Nis, I might not have been believed. My father once sought the position and was denied. Certain indiscretions in his past…Barred him from ever serving as Elder of any clan. I was not ever seriously considered for such a title. With Mau-Nis’ injury in battle, the responsibility fell to me by default. No one wants me to be Clan Elder. I am much younger than any elder which has come before. And my…Impetuous nature…Can sometimes be a hindrance. As it was for my father. Being an army brat and an asshole…Is not such a good thing. Or, so I am told.”

Teresa’s eyes come alive with the retelling of her old joke. She is still quite overburdened with the prospect of yet another interrogation. Nevertheless, she exhales sharply and resigns herself to her fate.

“You prove yourself…By bringing me back,” Teresa intones. “And you become Clan Elder?”

Mau-Nis’ jaw tightens behind his mask as he considers the implications behind Dr. Boyd’s words. Implications which could very well be true. N-Vorl remains silent for a long time. He mauls over Teresa’s statement in his mind.

“Yes. I suppose that is so,” N-Vorl finally admits.

In truth, he had not considered the situation from that angle. It causes a great tightness within his chest and he wants to take Teresa in his arms even more. To crush her body to his. To make her believe he had no intention of betraying her. N-Vorl takes a step toward Dr. Boyd, one hand flexing at his side. Mau-Nis smoothly interrupts.

“I think we should go,” Mau-Nis says, stepping between Teresa and N-Vorl.

N-Vorl is incensed and glares at his second-in-command’s back. Mau-Nis pretends not to notice he has diverted his leader’s attentions.

“The others are rounding up all remaining oomans,” Mau-Nis says. “It is our plan to destroy this facility. Even with the diversions I have created elsewhere, the oomans will eventually realize they have been outsmarted and return to this sector. I may need your help, Dr. Boyd...To erase all evidence of us ever being here. As well as any other evidence which might give the oomans clues to our origin and whereabouts.”

“Just like old times,” Teresa says with a wry smile.

Teresa’s eyes have once again lost their sparkle and she sighs heavily. N-Vorl takes this opportunity to push past Mau-Nis and grip Teresa’s forearm.

“Mau-Nis is correct,” N-Vorl says, recentering himself in the conversation. “We should go.”

To N-Vorl’s surprise, Teresa uses her other hand to remove his hand from her forearm.

“Go where?!? We can’t leave yet?” Teresa insists. “We have to find Vor’taalnis. He wasn’t with me when you started bombarding the station. I believe the doctor is holding him.”

The three yautja share a confused glance. The name sounds almost familiar, sharing some of the traits of a yautja name. However, neither of them remembers having ever met a yautja named Vor’taalnis.

“Who is Vor’taalnis?” N-Vorl demands. “Do they have a yautja prisoner aboard this facility as well?”

Teresa’s mouth drops open and she stares at N-Vorl with something akin to horror.

“You don’t know?!” Teresa gasps.

“They do have a yautja warrior here, then?” P’taal says.

The usually calm yautja removes his mask and chitters angrily. He glowers at his future leader and his mandibles click open and shut with agitation.

“How was this not in our intelligence reports? Who is this Vor’taalnis? What clan does he come from?” P’taal exclaims, the words of his native language flowing in an angry torrent.

“I don’t know of any Vor’taalnis,” Mau-Nis adds. “He has never been mentioned in any reports. Nor have I heard his name uttered in any conversation.”

“I don’t know him…” N-Vorl comments, shaking his head.

“Vor’taalnis is not a yautja warrior!” Teresa shouts to be heard.

N-Vorl studies Teresa carefully. Her eyes are full of anger and her mouth is drawn tight. The way she glares at him is reminiscent of how she once looked at him while stationed on the downed ooman science vessel. Not the hungry look of a ghkivu—the look which made him hungry for the taste of her flesh. But the hard look she had given him upon their very first meeting. This is a look he does not hunger for. The look of a warrior—right before they strike with their sharpened wrist blades.

“Vor’taalnis…Is your son, N-Vorl!” Teresa hisses in frustration.

P’taal’s eyes focus on N-Vorl and seem to bulge in their sockets. Mau-Nis quickly removes his mask from his face and also stares down N-Vorl. N-Vorl glances at the three accusatory faces in turn. He chitters anxiously in the language of his ancestors. Mau-Nis only intensifies his stare.