Mau-Nis exits the research wing’s observation room and marches with renewed purpose down the empty corridor. Activating his interface, Mau-Nis initiates contact with Leyyu.
“Leyyu…Find Kortuyil and meet me on the deck where we encountered the ooman attack vessels,” Mau-Nis chitters. “All of our warriors have been accounted for. Yet, movement was detected. I believe your suspicions are correct, Leyyu. We are dealing with a rogue. A traitor. Everything is starting to make sense. At the time when you witnessed the mating with the ooman female—No hunter was in that section of the facility. We must confront this traitor and his ooman compatriots. The oomans may have shielding which blocks our ability to track them. Similar to the shielding they utilized on the science vessel…To hide the craft the ooman scientist used to escape. A gift? Possibly from our mysterious rogue. We’ll perform a final sweep of the area. To ensure we haven’t missed anything. Be on your guard. The traitor will have the same advantages you do.”
“Yes, Command Leader,” Leyyu responds over his own mask’s interface.
Mau-Nis’ slowly removes his mask and the command leader’s eyes harden with anger.
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Somewhere in the human sphere
Brigadier General Rodrigo stands at parade rest before the main viewport of his attack vessel. Stars and minor planets stream past at tremendous speed. The Montag is hurtling as fast as it can towards the distressed research facility. There has been no communication with the station for nearly nineteen hours. And they are still at least thirteen hours away.
“Corporal Weston,” Rodrigo barks. “Send a message to General Weyland. Tell him we will be approaching the airspace above Research Facility Thirteen in approximately thirteen hours. We will ascertain the situation and neutralize any threats to human life. Should we require assistance, we will remain in orbit around the station and only engage the enemy if absolutely necessary.”
“Yes, Sir,” Corporal Weston says in reply.
Rodrigo shakes his head and sucks on his teeth.
“Thirteen freaking hours,” Rodrigo mutters. “A lot can happen in thirteen hours.”
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Leyyu reaches the hangar where the ooman attack vessels are stored. Many of the ooman vessels were damaged or disabled during battle with the surprise yautja fleet. Only three of the ooman attack vessels made it back into the hangar—or never made it out—and are in salvageable condition.
Kortuyil materializes beside Leyyu and glances from side to side. Though Kortuyil is blooded, he has only recently been given that honor, the hunter still displays some of his youthful curiosity. He surveys the damage to the ooman hangar with excitement and nervous energy.
“Where is Command Leader Mau-Nis?” Kortuyil questions.
“The command leader was detained,” Leyyu recounts. “He ordered us to begin the sweep. I will look on that side…Nearest the damaged section of exterior wall. You check the other side. Command Leader Mau-Nis says to be watchful for anything out of the ordinary. There may be a rogue hunter feeding information to the oomans. The oomans appear to be using advanced shielding to hide the female scientist’s location. Mau-Nis believes this to be a hybrid technology given to them by the traitor. If you find anything suspicious…Investigate it. Elder N-Vorl and Mau-Nis want this mission completed as quickly as possible. We cannot blow the station until the female scientist and the suspected traitor have been apprehended.”
“Understood,” Kortuyil responds.
Both warriors set about their task.
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Leyyu closes in on one of the damaged ooman ships. He angles his shoulder cannon at the flight window. A dead marine lies slumped over the damaged front window. Dried blood cakes the front of the vessel where the marine’s life fluid and insides spilled freely out. Leyyu chitters and shakes his head. He moves further into the hangar.
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At the entrance to the hangar, a clawed hand presses a button on the outer keypad. The inner doors slide shut, locking Leyyu and Kortuyil inside the damaged hangar. Not long after, a terrible explosion rips through the transport hangar. Kortuyil, who managed to enter a side door before the explosion, is thrown back and slams into a shelf full of ooman implements. Kortuyil falls heavily to the floor and the shelf collapses on top of him. Leyyu is sucked out into space.
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Dr. Wessinger’s office
Teresa toys with images on Dr. Wessinger’s computer, looking for any sign that Vor’taalnis may still be on the station. The heat image taken from N-Vorl has done little good. The system is unable to find any remaining heat signature aboard which closely matches that of N-Vorl. Besides, of course, the thirteen yautja warriors under N-Vorl’s command. There had been fifteen warriors when the yautja contingent first arrived. However, one yautja hunter was killed in the initial fighting and another during the rounding up of the oomans.
Teresa casually glances across the room at N-Vorl. P’taal and N-Vorl are animatedly discussing strategy near the biometric scanner. At nearly the same instant, a large explosion rocks the station. Teresa’s brow creases and she turns the upper part of her body in the general direction of the explosion—as if expecting to see through the wall.
“Don’t tell me you gave the order to blow the station?!” Teresa cries. “With us on it?!”
N-Vorl’s face hardens and he puts on his mask. Teresa is sure he is conferring with his hunters—determining exactly which one of them screwed up. Teresa glances down at the computer in front of her. In the transport hangar, two heat signatures wink out.
“P’taal…Come here,” Teresa yells.
P’taal approaches where Teresa sits and gazes down at her. The ooman's eyes are wide and her body trembles ever so slightly. She points toward the computer screen.
“Didn’t Mau-Nis say he was headed to the transport hangar to check for shielding and hidden vessels?” Teresa says in a panicked voice.
P’taal nods energetically. His hazel eyes study Teresa intently, before flicking over to the computer display.
“Yes,” P’taal confirms. “He took two hunters with him. Leyyu and Kortuyil! They were to report back if they found anything.”
“Well…Someone just exploded the transport hangar,” Teresa says. “The system is performing an automatic lockdown on that entire section. To protect the station from decompression. I just watched two of your hunters die. They’re gone. I can’t tell from here who they were. Where is Mau-Nis?”
N-Vorl steps closer to the desk and removes his mask. He makes brief eye contact with P’taal before peering down at Teresa. The young leader’s face is drawn with grief.
“I do not know,” N-Vorl says. “He does not respond. Nor, does he appear on my..."
N-Vorl grows silent, realizing the effect his elaboration is having on his ooman lover. Teresa places a hand over the spot on the computer screen where the dual heat signatures were last recorded. Tears spring to her eyes and she shakes her head in disbelief.
“No. It can’t be,” Teresa gasps. “Mau-Nis…Is dead?”
P’taal lowers a hand to Teresa’s shoulder and glances at N-Vorl. N-Vorl kneels beside Dr. Boyd and places his mask on the edge of the large wooden desk. Teresa’s eyes are still fixed on the computer screen, her mouth drawn downward in a grim expression. N-Vorl gently grips Teresa’s shoulders and turns her to face him. Pulling Teresa into a firm hug, he brushes a hand over her hair. Teresa returns his hug, tears streaming down her cheeks. Burying her face in N-Vorl’s shoulder, she cries inconsolably.
“Mau-Nis is dead? How can that be?” Teresa sobs. “What could have happened?”
N-Vorl looks over at P’taal, who only sighs. N-Vorl’s face hardens with anger and determination.
“I don’t know. But I intend to find out,” N-Vorl growls.
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Human Sphere
Alterran Sector
In orbit above the planet Celstus’ ringed moon (Scientific designation: Declan)
Starship Ortega
General Erik Weyland is in an especially foul mood. After over thirty-four hours of brutal fighting, the enemy forces on Declan show no signs of relenting. Weapons platforms continue to fire, damaging his ships and killing his marines. Laser blasts from the planet’s surface have already disabled two of his best ships: the Rubicon and the Flamboyant. Colonel Landry, commander of the Flamboyant, was the first of many casualties. Who are these beings?
A marine approaches the brooding General Weyland, and snaps off a crisp salute.
“General Weyland, Sir,” the marine hollers over the surrounding noise. “General Rodrigo sends word that the Montag is only thirteen hours out from Facility Thirteen. Following with rules of engagement, the general states he will only engage the enemy if absolutely necessary. He asks that we be ready to assist.”
General Weyland smirks and turns away from the young marine. The older man’s brow creases as he considers their predicament.
“Send a message of acknowledgment,” Weyland growls. “We’ll do what we can.”
The marine sets off to obey the order. General Weyland peers at the forward view screen and wishes he had a big cigar to smoke. If there was ever a time that he needed one. It was now.