Nurse Lobeski is adjusting the breathing mask on Vor’taalnis’ face when she hears a faint rattle above her head. Placing the slumbering infant on a nearby crate, Nurse Lobeski stands to her full height and gazes up at the ceiling.

  “Did you hear that, Dr. Wessinger?” Nurse Lobeski crows in a choked voice.

  Dr. Wessinger, who is sitting cross-legged a few feet away—hands outstretched in a gesture of meditation—only casually glances at the former cultist. Paranoia is why Lobeski was chosen for this particular assignment. Paranoid individuals tend to distrust everyone, and are good at keeping secrets. On the other hand, it also makes them jumpy and useless as hell. Dr. Wessinger goes back to her mediation as if Nurse Lobeski never spoke.

  Wessinger’s two guards peer at Nurse Lobeski with overt loathing. Why they were ordered to take this old bag along—instead of that babe of an orderly—neither of them will ever understand. Perhaps, jealousy on the part of Dr. Wessinger. Being stuck down here with two old hens;—instead of one hen and a hot lay—not cool. But then again, sharing the same woman can be a hairy business.

  The taller of the two guards moves to refill his canteen. A metallic slice fills the air and the guard’s hand spins away from the rest of his arm. The man follows his severed arm with wide eyes, shock causing him to shriek like a teenage girl. Before much of the scream has left his throat, Mau-Nis’ arm blade severs the guard’s head cleanly. The stump above the decapitated guard’s shoulders spurts blood all over his companion. The second guard lifts his weapon, but is too late.

  Mau-Nis stabs the man through his chest, lifting him high into the air. Blood erupts from the guard’s mouth and his eyes roll up into the back of his head. Mau-Nis hurls the body away and turns to gauge the action around him.

  -

  -

  At nearly the same instant that Mau-Nis engages the two guards, Teresa peeks around several storage containers and catches sight of Nurse Lobeski. Due to the angle of her position, Teresa is unable to view Dr. Wessinger. However, she knows the doctor is there—thanks to Nurse Lobeski’s shout in the doctor’s direction.

  Teresa shifts her gaze to Vor’taalnis, who is now situated on a crate to Nurse Lobeski’s left. Her heart sinks when Nurse Lobeski takes the infant up in her arms and grips him tightly to her chest. A moment later, Mau-Nis attacks the first guard.

  Nurse Lobeski immediately wrenches the mask from Vor’taalnis’ face and attempts to use the hose connected to the mask to strangle him. She wraps the hose once around the slumbering childling’s neck before Teresa realizes what is going on and springs into action.

  “Nooo!” Teresa hollers.

  Nurse Lobeski is caught by surprise. Her grip on the hose loosens and she whirls in Dr. Boyd’s direction. Teresa raises her pistol and levels it at Nurse Lobeski’s forehead. Her voice becomes menacing.

  “Put…My son…Down, you crazed Earther idiot!” Teresa roars.

  Teresa stalks closer, her eyes never leaving Nurse Lobeski’s pallid face. The former cultist simply doubles down her efforts and attempts to tighten the hose around Vor’taalnis’ throat. Against her better judgment, but lacking options, Teresa pulls the trigger. Nurse Lobeski’s head snaps back, as the bullet enters her brain and exits out of the back of her skull— in a spray of bone, blood, and gray matter. Teresa lunges forward, hoping to catch Vor’taalnis before he can strike the floor. She is unprepared for the bullet which whizzes above her head, riffling her hair and sending tufts of it into the air. Altering her trajectory, Teresa hits the floor and rolls. Once she is on the floor, she glances up to see who fired on her. Wessinger.

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  The cruel doctor now stands above the very dead Nurse Lobeski and the sedated Vor’taalnis. Thankfully, Vor’taalnis’ blankets—and Lobeski’s dead body—cushioned his fall to the metal floor. Such was the cultist’s death grip on her helpless ward. However, Teresa still worries for her son. He isn’t out of danger yet. Not with Wessinger so close.

  “Leave him alone, Wessinger!” Teresa says, turning her weapon on the researcher.

  Wessinger brandishes her own weapon and points it directly at Vor’taalnis. She smirks demonically in Dr. Boyd’s direction.

  “Or what?!” Wessinger challenges. “You’ll tell your yautja friends to murder me?”

  Teresa’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open.

  “You knew?!” Teresa says in disbelief.

  “Weyland Industries has known about the yautja for nearly a hundred years,” Wessinger laughs. “Since they completely destroyed their pyramid in Antarctica. Leaving a single witness alive. They have a bad habit of doing that. Women mostly. I wonder why.”

  “So…If you knew…Why torture me and my son?” Teresa cries, emotion choking her voice.

  “Because…We were hoping you could tell us more,” Wessinger hisses. “What we didn’t count on…Was them wanting you back so badly that they’d mount a rescue effort. We underestimated them.”

  Teresa releases a deep sigh and lowers her head.

  “If you only knew. This wasn’t a rescue effort,” Teresa laughs sardonically. “They came because I knew too damn much. But yeah…You underestimated the yautja big time.”

  Teresa jerks her gun threateningly. Her eyes lock threateningly on Wessinger, and she readies her finger to pull the trigger a second time.

  “Put the weapon down, Dr. Wessinger,” Teresa warns. “You’re a woman. They won’t kill you if you’re unarmed. Just put the weapon down. Please. Let me take my son…And leave. You don’t have to die, Dr. Wessinger.”

  “And lose my bargaining chip,” Dr. Wessinger says with a sarcastic laugh. “I think not. I think I’ll take my hostage and—"

  The words are not quite out of Dr. Wessinger’s mouth when N-Vorl’s wrist blades erupt from the front of her blouse. Wessinger’s eyes widen and she opens her mouth to scream. No words are able to come, as blood pours from between her thin lips. Even Teresa is in shock, watching Wessinger be lifted into the air.

  N-Vorl materializes and Wessinger grips the two metallic points jutting from her chest. The researcher’s eyes flutter closed and her head lolls forward. Without much ceremony, N-Vorl grips the older woman’s throat and retracts his wrist blades from her back. Releasing her throat, he allows Dr. Wessinger’s body to fall to the floor.

  Teresa watches as N-Vorl crosses to where his son lies. Crouching low, N-Vorl removes Nurse Lobeski’s arm from around the slumbering infant. He gathers up Vor’taalnis and pulls the blanket from the childling’s face. N-Vorl's eyes fall to the partially ooman nose on Vor’taalnis’ face and his pulse quickens. There is no way they will be able to pass this childling off as yautja. They will have to find another explanation.

  Glancing at Teresa, N-Vorl notices that she has not moved and is staring at him oddly. Sizing up his reaction to their childling? Or something else?

  N-Vorl carefully maneuvers Vor’taalnis so that he is cradled in the crook of one arm. The other hand, he offers to Teresa. She hesitates, and N-Vorl turns his hand fully palm up. Finally, Teresa moves in their direction. Crawling toward N-Vorl and kneeling beside him, Teresa peers down at Vor’taalnis—who is still sleeping.

  N-Vorl envelopes Teresa in his muscular arm and draws her close. Teresa sobs and caresses Vor’taalnis’ cheek. The childling’s brow knits and he makes a noise similar to an infant’s cry and a yautja’s chitter. The sound baffles N-Vorl, who stares down at Vor’taalnis with curiosity. He is even more surprised when Vor’taalnis opens his eyes. Large green eyes meeting his father’s for the first time in his short but turbulent life.

  The childling seems to understand the significance of this moment, blinking up at N-Vorl. One eye slowly slides shut in what could be a wink, but is really an involuntary reflex caused by the heavy sedation he has been under. N-Vorl laughs at the gesture and turns to Teresa with a large yautja smile. Teresa still observes N-Vorl with a small degree of suspicion. N-Vorl can sense the distrust under the surface of her gaze. He releases her shoulder and slides his hand under her chin. Kissing Teresa gently, N-Vorl attempts to reassure her that all is well.

  Teresa loosens up and throws her arms around both her lover and her child. N-Vorl smiles down at his infant childling with paternal pride. Across the room, Mau-Nis stands with his arm blade still drawn, a sorrowful expression on his masked face.