Station Operations hub

  Teresa arrives to find Mau-Nis already hard at work behind the station’s main console. Remembering their awkward encounter, less than thirty minutes before, Teresa adjusts her blouse before approaching the command leader. Mau-Nis lifts his masked face as she nears. The large yautja seems nervous, his head tilted at an angle.

  Dr. Boyd slips silently behind the console and begins inputting commands. Mau-Nis continues to watch her discreetly. The command leader’s solitary hand flexes. He considers covering Teresa’s hand and begging her to stop. To stop long enough to allow him to caress her lips, the way he has seen N-Vorl do several times. He settles for simply resting his hand over hers—drawing a surprised look from the ooman doctor. Mau-Nis removes his mask and places it beside him on the console.

  “Your son…I can see that you love him very much,” Mau-Nis says. “How can this be? Do you not see him…As the cause of all of your suffering?”

  Teresa’s eyes become moist with tears and she shakes her head vigorously. Her voice reflects the depth of her disbelief.

  “No. No. Never,” Teresa exclaims. “I could never think that. I love my son. It doesn’t matter that Vor’taalnis doesn’t look at all like me. In fact, as a scientist…I’m rather intrigued by that fact. I was always more concerned with his safety. Everything else be damned. I would have given my very life for Vor’taalnis. If that was what it took to get him off of this station.”

  Mau-Nis smiles and removes his hand from Dr. Boyd’s. He cups her face, his eyes softening.

  “You are braver than many of your ooman male counterparts,” Mau-Nis proclaims. “I would even say, you are braver than many yautja. Few are willing to give their lives for anything. You have never treated us like an enemy. Why?”

  “Because…” Teresa hesitates, looking for the right words. “Because I never saw you as an enemy. I know your ways are rather…Violent. Some might even say…Barbaric. But, we humans can be a violent bunch too. We all met on that planet by cosmic mistake. Or so, I’d like to believe. I refuse to condemn an entire species. I never felt any real aggression from any of you. Well…Maybe with one exception. But, that’s in the past now.”

  Mau-Nis nods and his mandibles flex open and shut. More than ever, he wants to crush the ooman doctor to his chest and caress her lips. This is the sort of answer, he had hoped to hear. Teresa returns her attention to the console in front of her. However, she continues to speak.

  “I’m a little confused, Mau-Nis,” Dr. Boyd says without turning. “N-Vorl told me about your planetary diversion. The autonomous weapons platforms and holographic life sign projectors…Your warriors set up on Declan. That’s what we oomans call that particular moon of Celstus. All of it…To lure the human fleet from this sector. You’re quite a genius. You know your way around ooman technology…Probably better than I do. Hell, it was you who ID’d me aboard the California.”

  Teresa turns to face the command leader, whose eyes have never left her face.

  “You don’t need me,” Teresa implores. “You can easily do this job yourself. Why am I here, Mau-Nis?”

  Mau-Nis' eyelids slip lower and he attempts to appear emotionless. The command leader tilts his head away from Dr. Boyd and looks askance at her.

  “Because…I wanted you here,” Mau-Nis confesses. “I felt you might enjoy a small dose of revenge. After everything—.”

  Mau-Nis halts his speech, unsure of how much he should reveal. Would she be incensed to learn he’d spent nearly two hours pouring over holovids of her gruesome torture—at the hands of the cruel ooman and his master? Would it help her to know, how he’d wished to rip out her tormentor’s spine—each time the ooman had entered Teresa’s body with brutish force? Would she care that he’d wanted to wipe the tears from her eyes—as the ooman laughed and tossed her clothes? Would she believe his motives were pure? Or will she grow to distrust him? The same as she has grown to distrust the father of her childling?

  Teresa shakes her head solemnly, her mouth held in a firm line.

  “No, Mau-Nis,” Teresa says. “I don’t need revenge. The people on this station…The women and children…The engineers…The janitors…The cooks. They never did anything to me. Most, have probably only heard of me through hushed whispers. If they’ve heard of me at all. I’m quite a freak where many humans are concerned. I’ve slept with the enemy. That’s why Dr. Wessinger enjoyed tormenting me. Wessinger already knew of your species’ existence. She wanted to see how far I was willing to go to keep your secrets. And I kept them. She would have used anyone, and anything, to obtain her answers. Rules, regulations, and laws…Meant nothing to her. That level of resolve is dangerous. I should know.”

  Dr. Boyd’s body shivers as she considers her own past—her determination to improve on the Judas Breed. She would have done almost anything for success. Yet, knowing that the evil species thrives upon the planet where Richard and Harold’s bodies are likely nothing but bones and ragged cloth, chills Teresa’s heart.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "I’ve accepted that you are planning to destroy the station…As a means to an end,” Teresa says. “I’ve made peace with it as a necessary evil. Only because, I know that in the wrong hands…Your technology could become a tool for humans to wage terrible wars on each other. I’m not an idealist anymore. Breeding the Judases, and watching the destruction they wrought, was enough for me. I don’t want revenge, Mau-Nis. I want an end to this situation. I just want peace.”

  Mau-Nis musters the courage to remove a strand of hair from over Teresa’s right eye. Teresa stiffens and turns her head to look at him.

  “I wish I could give you what you are looking for,” Mau-Nis says softly. “But…Our return to Yautja Prime does not hold much promise in that regard.”

  “I know,” Teresa says.

  She returns her focus to the console, inputting commands. An exasperated sigh escapes her lips and she bites down on the inside of her jaw. Placing one hand on her hip, Dr. Boyd shakes her head.

  “I wish McAvoy was here. I could really use one of his fancy scalping devices right about now,” Teresa laments. “I destroyed it when I was aboard the escape craft because I feared someone might reverse engineer it. Find out what we’d all been up to. I’m going to need at least an hour to create another program…”

  Teresa slyly cuts her eye in Mau-Nis’ direction. The command leader is already peering at her face, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

  “Unless, you have a better option,” Teresa teases.

  “I might,” Mau-Nis says with a touch of arrogant pride.

  “I thought so,” Teresa says.

  The ooman scientist performs a dramatic gesture of allowing Mau-Nis to take her place at the console.

  “Do your thing, Mau-Nis,” Teresa says. “I’ll just watch and learn.”

  -

  -

  N-Vorl awaits Mau-Nis’ report. He allows Vor’taalnis to play with his left hand, tiny clawed fingers wrapping around his much larger ones. Various plans and ideas race through N-Vorl’s mind. None of the future leader’s current plans come with a favorable conclusion. Even if they manage to get Teresa and Vor’taalnis off of the station and onto the flagship, keeping them concealed for the entire journey back to Yautja Prime will be next to impossible. Not to mention, what becomes of them once they get there? Any side trips would require plausible explanations.

  Already, there will be questions about the death of Leyyu—and Kortuyil’s disfigurement. The injured warrior has yet to awaken—if he ever does. Should Kortuyil regain consciousness, he will surely recount the instructions which sent him to that area of the facility. Instructions meant to cover subterfuge. The only option, in such a case, would be to ensure that Kortuyil never opens his eyes again. The idea of killing one of his own chills N-Vorl to the core.

  N-Vorl flexes the fingers of his free hand and strokes Vor’taalnis’ face with the other. He chitters softly, remembering his own father.

  -

  N-Vorl and N’bril had never been close. A hunter’s life was not an easy one. It left little time for closeness and warm feelings. Much of N-Vorl’s time with his father was spent learning new technologies and battle tactics. At the time, getting to know N’bril’s thoughts and motivations was not even a consideration. Now, N-Vorl wishes he had taken the time to learn about his father. Was his father as proud of N-Vorl’s birth, as N-Vorl is of his own son’s?

  When news had arrived that Elder K’bohyau’s son was killed in a fearsome duel, N-Vorl had thought nothing of it. It was only later, as N’bril was led down the halls of their native habitat, that N-Vorl made the connection to his father. N’bril had been stripped of his title—and any wishes of ever becoming Clan Elder.

  Wiryil, mother of the slain yautja, had begged for clemency. Thinking of N-Vorl, and his wrathful nature; Wiryil wished to eliminate any risk of a vendetta. War had already weakened many clans. In a secret meeting, the council had allowed Wiryil to choose N’bril’s fate. It was her decision, that N’bril should be put in charge of the chruksh farms. The chruksh is a treasured crop to all yautja. The elixirs made from its fluids bringing long life and vitality. In this way, N’bril would not be completely dishonored. He would serve to bring strength and honor to all clans.

  The council had agreed to Wiryil’s demand. N’bril became steward to several habitats where chruksh was cultivated. N’bril’s clan of hunters, engineers, and warriors—the portion left to him by decree—became a clan of cultivators and scientists almost overnight. As time went by, hunters left the clan in droves. Even some who had at first agreed to stay. They left seeking clans who still bore their warrior creed with pride. Many warriors returned to the portion of the Fihgi handed to Glandis at the tribunal.

  N-Vorl had reluctantly adjusted to their new life of chruksh farming. To farm chruksh was a much better fate than N’bril should have expected. Had N’Vorl’s father been from a less prestigious clan, he would surely have been killed for his crime. No matter what plea Wiryil put forth.

  The change in familial occupation had not been without advantages. N-Vorl learned many new techniques from the scientists responsible for creating the invigorating elixirs derived from the chruksh plant’s flowers, fruit, and stalks. He also developed a few techniques of his own. On many occasions, N-Vorl would pilfer small clippings of the favored plant to create his own elixirs—sharing them with various females. None of whom, he was able to convince to become his true mate. Eventually, N-Vorl pushed down the feelings of anger at his father’s folly and settled into his new reality. However, when the opportunity arose for him to become a hunter again, N-Vorl had seized it. The alternative, had been too painful to endure. Even though, it meant serving in his famed uncle’s contingent.

  The mission to seed the current Judas home world with huntbeasts should have been a routine one. No ooman vessels were reported to be in that section of space. Finding the disabled science vessel had been a stroke of luck. Bad luck for Glandis; good luck for N-Vorl. In the beginning, N-Vorl had been deadset against Elder Glandis’ inclusion of Dr. Boyd in their projects. To his knowledge, such a thing had never been done. But she had grown on him, gradually and absolutely. By the time they had made love, he had already made up his mind that they should. Had she not made the first move, he surely would have. In the end, she had given him what many yautja females had refused to—attention, love, respect, a worthy title, and an heir. No longer is he N-Vorl, son of disgraced N’bril. He is N-Vorl, Elder of the Fihgi Clan. Father to Vor’taalnis. All is as it should be.