ALL NOVEL Chapter Forty-Five: Armored Up
When Dr. Boyd and Mau-Nis enter the main lab, Mau-Nis is like a changed yautja. No longer are his eyes filled with pain. Instead, they are brimming with a righteous rage. He is a warrior of renewed vigor and resolve. A fearsome hunter once again.
Teresa is pleased to see that several of the UV lamps she scrounged up are already switched on and in position. The lights will deter the invading Judases for a short while. Long enough to set their plan in motion.
P’taal stands at attention when he catches sight of Mau-Nis. Glandis’ second-in-command waves him back into a state of rest. P’taal reluctantly obeys, eyeing Mau-Nis with slight concern. He pays special attention to the weapon attached to the space where Mau-Nis’ right arm used to be.
“An ooman toy?!” Glotis says in a mocking voice.
The yautja scientist casually reaches out a clawed hand to stroke the surface of Mau-Nis’ weapon. Mau-Nis turns to his female companion and smiles.
“Yes. But a weapon nonetheless,” Mau-Nis says. “With this ooman weapon, I can mete out vengeance upon the enemy which dared murder our leader and our brethren.”
P’taal circles Mau-Nis, appraising the weapon strapped to his injured comrade. Everything about P’taal’s body language says he is quite impressed. Teresa takes this opportunity to chime in.
“I suppose I should warn you all,” Teresa says timidly. “Your usual methods of hunting…May not work in this situation.”
N-Vorl’s eyes flash and his mandibles click open and shut. Glotis steps forward, slight indignation on her countenance. Teresa forges ahead, not allowing their frustration to stop her.
“I’m not suggesting your weapons aren’t up to the task. Not really. While your combisticks, fancy wrist blades, and those throwing disks are valuable weapons…They won’t do much good against these bugs,” Teresa explains.
“You can’t fight them like that," Teresa insists. "Not anymore. If you've studied up on your Earth History, you know that cockroaches are pretty prolific survivors. They breed exceptionally well..Even under less than ideal circumstances. We don’t have the necessary manpower…Troop strength...To take them on like that. Not if we intend to win. Not to mention, your usual combat weapons would require you to get much closer than is reasonable. Their forelegs give them a good four or five foot reach. You can’t risk getting that close. Not if you value life and limb."
Dr. Boyd cuts her eyes in Mau-Nis' direction, hoping her poorly chosen joke hasn't struck a bad chord. Mau-Nis seems unfazed, his eyes locked on Teresa's face.
"A typical roach can glide a significant distance in a short time," Teresa continues. "But these buggers aren’t mere roaches. They're a genetic cross between some of Earth's most adaptable and hardy species. We call them pests, for the most part. Because it sucks trying to get rid of them. The Judas were genetically bred for strength, ferocity and speed. They move a lot faster, and pack a much harder punch than any cockroach ever could. The ant…Can carry up to fifty times its own weight. A praying mantis...Is an ambush predator. It can snap the head off its prey in one bite. Just to give you an idea of how much strength we’re talking about. You've seen them! No two specimens are exactly alike. They're unpredictable. And that's what we're up against. It's been hours since we've taken a team out to observe them. We have no idea what other mutations they've undergone. The cameras on our little pets aren't much to go off of. Anything could be out there waiting for us. And we’ll be facing dozens of them. It's time to adapt your fighting style.”
Dr. Boyd glances around the room before continuing. The body language of the warriors around her reveals that they are at least open to her suggestions. Mau-Nis seems the most intrigued, carefully studying the mechanical gun arm attached to his shoulder.
“Their numbers have swelled,” Dr. Boyd continues. “They’ve been breeding undisturbed. Last view from the cameras revealed a corridor teeming with Judases. It’s going to be chaos. You want to use your weapons? Good. You’ll probably need them too. But I suggest everyone also carry an Orville rifle. With the Judases phasing in and out like they do…You need a weapon that can fire almost instantaneously. That’s an Orville rifle.”
Dr. Boyd reaches for her rifle, preparing to launch into an abridged history of her weapon of choice. She sits on the edge of a nearby table and props one leg up on a chair.
“Obviously, this is an Orville rifle. It’s what we humans call a military grade assault rifle. It uses 12MM armor-piercing rounds. The internal magazine holds a 42-round clip. Which of course means, you can basically fire 42 times before you have to reload. That’s a lot of dead Judases. Which is what we want. The weapon can be fired in close quarters repeatedly, packs a helluva wallop, doesn’t overheat, and doesn’t have a recharge rate.”
N-Vorl’s mouth curls into a wide yautja grin as he watches Teresa explain the intricacies of the weapon she is trying to sell them on. Her energy is strangely contagious, and her movements become more and more animated. Almost like the energy of a young unblooded before their first hunt for the Keinde Amedha. Maybe she should have been a weapons specialist instead of a scientist.
“However, it’s not all bad. We do have one advantage,” Teresa continues. “The planet’s core is extremely magnetic. I suspect, the planet’s poles may be due for a shift any time now. It’s affecting the Judases’ ability to stay hidden. That’s what’s causing them to phase in and out. I believe that’s what allowed them to see through your cloaking as well. The phase out doesn’t last long. But then again, it doesn’t have to. If you see something, don’t second guess. Just fire. If you damage the ship…Who cares? We’re gonna blow it to hell anyway!”
A loud scraping sound reverberates above them, presumably from one of the upper decks. Teresa stares up at the ceiling, hoping it is simply some of the ship’s plating being thrown about in the geostorm. Teresa crosses to the work station where her scavenged pile of weapons is stacked. She grabs a second Orville rifle, and tosses it in N-Vorl’s direction. The seasoned warrior catches it with a swift motion of his arm. Dr. Boyd smiles, proud that her judgment of N-Vorl’s skill level is correct.
“You all get the same lesson Mau-Nis did. The extremely abridged, we-don’t-have-much-time edition,” Teresa says playfully. “I know you all can handle it.”
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Lounge/adjacent Dr. Boyd’s makeshift quarters
Having foregone a combat suit, in order to carry an additional weapon, Teresa now sports a brown t-shirt and camouflage cargo pants. She rummages through the duffle bag, only stuffing things into her pockets that she perceives will be necessary for their foray into hostile Judas territory. She considers taking a radio, but decides against it. Any sudden radio chatter might bring the Judases down on them. Better to talk in hushed whispers, or not at all.
She jumps slightly when N-Vorl lightly touches her right shoulder. Placing a hand over the left side of her chest, Teresa struggles to get her breathing under control. She glances up at N-Vorl, an uneasy laugh escaping her throat.
“Damn! You scared me!” Teresa exclaims.
Taking a knee beside Teresa, N-Vorl meets her gaze. His brow creases deeply and he places a hand at the back of Teresa’s head.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” the big warrior says in a deep voice. His green eyes search Dr. Boyd’s face. Perhaps to be sure that his words are having the intended effect.
“Ha,” Teresa laughs.
She is unable to contain her amusement at the irony of their situation. Regarding N-Vorl with a mocking grin, she runs a finger along one side of his face.
“I distinctly remember you threatening to take my life on more than one occasion,” Dr. Boyd teases.
“That was a different—,” N-Vorl begins.
However, Teresa silences him by using the same finger she used to trace the side of his face to apply pressure to his mouth.
“I know,” she whispers. “I was only teasing. You really should learn what humor is, N-Vorl! We, oomans, almost can’t live without it. Who knows? You might even like it.”
N-Vorl leans forward so that their foreheads are touching. His eyes are downcast and he appears introspective.
“We will not tell the others what we have done,” N-Vorl finally says. Once again, his eyes find Teresa’s. “The childling, if there is to be a childling, will be ours alone. I will ensure that no harm comes to either of you.”
Teresa’s heart sinks yet again, and she shakes her head sadly.
“I seriously doubt that either of us will have a say in the matter, should that time come,” Teresa replies.
N-Vorl’s mouth gnashes with his growing emotion. The hand still resting at the back of Teresa’s head flexes, and his fingers caress her hair and scalp.
“But, I will do as you wish,” Teresa says with a sigh. “I’ll destroy all evidence relating to my little side project. It will be like it never happened.”
N-Vorl’s brow creases further and his eyes narrow.
“And what of our childling?” he inquires. There is a slight edge to his voice.
“There probably won't be a child, N-Vorl! I’m sorry,” Teresa lies. But only a little. “Even with your magic elixirs and our unbridled passion... There just wasn’t enough time to—. All of my tests came up negative. The conditions just aren't right for making a baby."
N-Vorl searches Teresa’s face once again, hoping to find some sign that she is not telling him the truth. However, he is unsure if having no childling at all is the better option. He and the ooman female can continue being lovers without complications. There will be no questions. There will be time enough for childlings when they are no longer on this cursed planet. Once he is installed as elder aboard his new vessel. No one would dare question his choice.
Teresa’s mind is going over a very similar dilemma. It may be a few weeks before she knows for sure whether or not she is carrying N-Vorl’s baby. It is a crazy thing to go from believing you will certainly die, to having even the faintest glimmer of hope. If she is carrying his child, what will she do? Return with them to their home world? Not likely. Return to the human sphere? To Earth? And risk having the authorities confiscate and imprison her child? Maybe even experiment upon it? As she has done to countless other specimens. No. That must not be allowed to happen.
Teresa shivers at the thought. Her visible discomfort causes N-Vorl to draw her close. She leans into his embrace, basking in the sea-like smell of his skin and the firmness of his muscled chest. N-Vorl reclines his chin on Teresa’s head and takes in the strangely familiar scent of her hair. Teresa eventually draws away, her eyes brimming with tears.
“We need to join the others,” she says solemnly. “The bugs won’t hold off forever.”
N-Vorl takes this opportunity to kiss her tenderly and deeply. Teresa wraps her arm around his neck, simply enjoying their closeness. N-Vorl kisses Teresa’s face; working his way down to the flesh behind her ear, her neck, then to her collarbone. He kisses her shoulder through the material of her brown t-shirt.
Teresa releases a deep sigh, knowing they do not dare go any further than they already have. Not with the fearsome trio in the main laboratory. However, N-Vorl seems not to care. He continues to smother her flesh with kisses. Dr. Boyd runs a hand through his braided hair, and whispers into his ear.
“I haven’t been entirely honest with you, N-Vorl,” Teresa admits. A sinking pit forms in her stomach, but she forges ahead. “I didn’t just create an antidote for your blood serum. I created my own serum. For use on you. What you are feeling, N-Vorl…Might not be real.”
N-Vorl moves back enough to peer at Teresa’s face. The doctor’s eyes are half-lidded, lips slightly apart, and her color has deepened to the reddish hue he has come to associate with moments of embarrassment or intense pleasure. N-Vorl’s eyes narrow and he manages a large smile.
“I have not been completely honest with you either,” N-Vorl reveals in a husky voice. “I did not wait in the other room as you cleaned yourself. I have been with you nearly every moment. I had my orders. I have no doubt that what I feel is very real.”
At first, Teresa is greatly incensed by N-Vorl’s confession. However, her anger subsides. How can she be angry with him? Whoever said that curiosity killed the cat, definitely never spent time on a coed dorm—Or a spaceship for that matter.
While curiosity has indeed signed many a death warrant; it has also been the catalyst for many a tryst or love affair throughout human history—and surely throughout the galaxy. Hell, even the universe. What is different may sometimes stir fear in one’s breast. But it can also stir the mind to great imagination. They are scientists after all. Pushing boundaries and going forbidden places is practically in their DNA.
Teresa begins to laugh, but N-Vorl silences her laugh with another fierce kiss. When they have finished making their intentions known, N-Vorl helps Teresa to her feet. He assists her as she straps on her weapons and secures her battle harness. As an afterthought, Teresa grabs the flamethrower from its place on the table. Time to euthanize some Judases. Any bugs which manage to survive the gas; won’t survive for long.
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When the first Judas insect slams into the door of the main lab, not a single eyelash bats in surprise. Dr. Boyd levels her Orville rifle with her left hand. While ensuring that the strap of her second rifle, on the opposite shoulder—and secured in place by the harness around her middle—does not slide down.
Every shoulder cannon angles, searching for a target. Rifles are raised and ready to be fired. The fury contained within the confines of the lab is so palpable, it can be cut with a knife. Another loud thump, and a scrambling comes from the ducting above the five warriors. The Judases are in the lab’s air conditioning. Juveniles more than likely. But not any less deadly if they find their way into the laboratory.
Without a command needing to be given, the five spread out and stand back to back—the table holding the explosives at the center of their semi-wide circle. Each of them is guarding a different area of the lab. Glotis stands nearly shoulder to shoulder with P’taal. She does not even bother to glance at him. They are both thinking the same thing: they will defend each other to the bitter end.
Teresa raises her rifle, but does not fire, as a Judas’ foreleg stabs through the ceiling. The foreleg pulls back and then repeats the action. The repetitive hammering of the juvenile’s sharpened foreleg fills the oversized room. A second Judas joins in the noise, stabbing at the metal of the ceiling. No one fires their weapon. To do so, would further weaken the structure, giving the murderous insects an easy way in. So they will patiently wait. Wait until the insects’ vile bodies are truly visible. Then, blow them to hell.
The first insect head and thorax to come into view, is summarily severed from the rest of its writhing body by the first blast of Mau-Nis’ rifle. Brackish fluid sprays from the mutilated corpse and the back end of the insect plummets to the floor. Another Judas, more timid due to the burning UV lamps, backs away slowly. However, it finds its courage and surges forward—following its comrade to certain death. Mau-Nis brings a swift end to the second Judas as well.
A loud thump follows the thud of the second insect upon the floor and Teresa cries out in alarm.
“Camouflage! They’re using their camouflage!” Teresa yells. “If you get a clear shot…Don’t think about it! Hesitate and we all die!”
The lab is filled with various forms of weapons’ fire as each fighter hones in on an intended target and lets loose. Shoulder cannons blaze, Orville rifles boom, and Mau-Nis’ mech-arm weapon pulverizes insect carapace into unrecognizable pieces. The Judases strategically utilize their camouflage ability, shimmering and disappearing at incalculable intervals. Only the planet’s odd magnetic composition keeps the Judases from maintaining full invisibility.
The yautja’s infrared masks are of very little use, the insects’ vibrations sending out false signatures as they flit from here to there. Every once in a while, the newly adapted frequency recognition software manages to locate a target. Most of the time, it is utterly useless. There are far too many bugs, and too many frequencies for the technology to accurately pin down and lock onto.
Teresa simply aims for things that move without due cause. A mysteriously shifting desktop computer is shattered by a rifle blast. A moment later, there is a large splash of brownish fluid onto the floor. Teresa’s Orville rifle has fired true. A chair is toppled over, and then slides a foot forward. Another rifle blast, another dead Judas.
A Judas manages to get close to Glotis, nearly severing her head with a swipe of its fierce foreleg. Glotis sees the fluctuation in heat signature and gauges correctly. She ducks and plunges her combistick into the Judas’ thorax. With a savage kick, Glotis sends the Judas flying. The Judas slams into one of its companions, which was coming to join the fray. Both insects land in a jumble several feet away. Both clearly visible. Both clearly dead by the same sharp weapon.
Glotis only momentarily mourns the loss of her combistick. Glancing around, she grabs the combistick from Mau-Nis’ belt. He glances back, unsure of what is happening, and then gives Glotis an understanding nod. He won’t be needing it.
Focusing on a strange distortion backlit against the UV lights, Mau-Nis orders the neural interface to fire upon it. The Judas juvenile is reduced to splintered pieces. Now knowledgeable of what to aim for, Mau-Nis finds his targets without much trouble. Sometimes, he falls back on his old ways and uses a throwing disk. Other times, he uses the ooman rifle to blow the vile insects to pieces. Either way, he is thoroughly enjoying himself. Taking pleasure in bringing pain to the enemy which mercilessly stabbed and tore apart his sage elder.