ALL NOVEL Thirty-Two: More Than One's Duty
Teresa dutifully analyzes samples from the current batch of Judases, as well as tissue samples collected during the most recent yautja hunting expedition. She programs her computer to run a cross-referencing simulation of desired characteristics for the foreign alien embryos selected for eventual hybridization.
Her desktop screen flashes an alert and she reads it without much enthusiasm. The geothermic disturbance will arrive at the ship’s location in approximately one-hundred and ten hours.
Teresa yawns and rakes a hand through her thick black hair. Climbing to her feet, she gathers up her tablet and places it under one arm. Not a single yautja acknowledges Dr. Boyd as she heads for her new quarters.
Glotis and a young unblooded are discussing something of import near the entrance to Lab Room Seven, their clawed hands waving or flexing. P'taal has returned to his shared quarters for rest. Even N-Vorl seems distracted, watching the Judases attempt to break out of their holding tanks. Two of N-Vorl's armed companions stand watching as well. Morbid chitin imitations of human faces are now laced within their mesh suits--amongst skulls of varying size.
Teresa enters her private quarters and immediately sits down in front of the computer. Instead of going to sleep, Teresa further analyzes the yautja DNA sample she obtained in Lab Room Seven. It is Dr. Boyd’s intention to have her work completed before the geostorm arrives. If the California loses power, she may also lose monumental data. Better to be safe than sorry. Executing a program simulation of various gene sequences and permutations, Teresa watches the results unfold before her eyes.
“Oh wow…,” she whispers through steepled hands.
A scrambling noise above her head makes Dr. Boyd look upward. The noise repeats and Teresa smiles inwardly.
“Ha. We still have rats,” Teresa says to herself. “That’s a relief. What’s a sinking ship without at least a few of them? I'm sure our Judas pals will take good care of that problem. Eventually."
A thumbnail of Security Chief Crews is situated in the top right corner of the tablet screen. Teresa kisses the tips of three fingers and presses them against the glass; above where Richard’s lips are in the photograph. She whispers his name into the darkness and then removes her fingers. A moment later, she commences her previous activities—silent tears running down her face.
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After nearly an hour of dedicated study, Dr. Boyd grows tired. Putting her tablet in sleep mode, she decides to get some sleep as well.
Taking off her lab coat and blouse, Teresa climbs onto the futon wearing only her tank top and khakis. Yautja physiology requires a temperature which is borderline unbearable. Wearing a lot less clothes is a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat. Especially, if she plans to get any rest at all. Not even bothering to pull back the blankets, Teresa falls asleep atop them.
She isn’t sleep long before her eyes shoot open. Jumping up, Teresa races to the table where her tablet lies. She wakes the computer and scrolls down several lists until she finds her own medical file. She scrolls further, and taps on an icon of a double-helix. Feeding the information she finds there into the previous genetic simulation, she sets the program to run even in sleep mode.
Dr. Boyd crosses the room and plops facedown onto the futon. One arm hangs over the bed, but all she cares about is the smell of clean blankets under her nose. Slumber finally overtakes her.
In a corner of the room, a clawed hand flexes. Visible only as a brief distortion of the surrounding dim light.
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Simultaneously…
Several Judas insects scurry along a corridor littered with organic material and detritus. Human remains, torn clothing, paper, and other items are stuck to almost every inch of the surrounding area. The juvenile Judases hurry about their operations with no care for their own safety—thinking only to facilitate the needs of their queen.
At the center of a large organic structure, the queen Judas silently watches over her subjects—her obedient children. She stretches forth a clawed foreleg and snatches up a human torso. Opening her enormous mandibles, the queen Judas tears free a huge chunk of decaying flesh. Pieces of bone and putrid decaying meat fall to the floor as she pulls the gross meal into her maul.
A young Judas, about the size of a pit-bull, scrambles over the queen’s extended foreleg and she draws the limb inward. She continues to use the other leg to grip her horrid dinner. The smaller Judas eventually scrambles off to join its siblings. Taking another large chunk of meat into her mouthparts, the queen chitters with satisfaction.
Communications Hub
The computer screen flashes a warning:
Geothermic disturbance will be over this location in one-hundred and eight hours…Four minutes...And twenty-three seconds.
A large Judas foreleg smashes the computer screen, destroying it, and eliminating the flashing lights of the warning message.
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Teresa turns over in her sleep, a deep moan issuing from her lips. Perspiration coats her flesh and she is in the grips of a horrific nightmare. A nightmare where Judases not only wear the faces of her friends and colleagues; but also tear them to pieces right before her eyes.
First, Richard; then, Bess. Then, there is Theodore, and security guard Nettles. All of the other scientists find their way into Teresa’s nightmare; screaming their hellish screams of death. Lastly, there is Harold—an extremely large Judas tearing him limb for limb. Harold’s mutilated head and torso is hurtled into the air by a savage insectile forearm.
Teresa jerks in her sleep as Harold’s body wetly slams into a wall beside her. In her nightmare, Teresa raises her flamethrower and torches the entire legion of demonic insects. Her terrified screams reverberate in the halls of the abandoned ship. She does not stop until every Judas is alight, flames licking all around her.
The smell of smoke, carapace, and boiling insect fluids causes her to choke and she drops to her knees. Through the flames, she glimpses Harold’s torn body. His once handsome features consumed by flames from a creation of his own design. Teresa reaches out to touch Harold's burning stump of a left arm. A whimpering cry escapes her lips.
“Harold…,” she cries.
Back in the real world, Teresa does in fact whimper in her sleep. Her right hand grips the edge of the futon and she twitches violently. Perspiration beads and rolls down her flesh. The warmth of her environment giving realism to her growing nightmare.
“Harold…,” she mutters.
A clawed hand, still cloaked in invisibility, slowly reaches out to touch her forehead. Like a mother checking a child for fever, N-Vorl places the back of his hand against Teresa’s flesh. Her twitching subsides, and she grows quiet. The scientist's breathing remains rapid, but she no longer groans.
N-Vorl withdraws his hand and strolls to the other side of the room. He squats down in his usual spot, both hands steepled. The enormous yautja closes his eyes, resting himself. He will stay until the nightmares have passed.
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N-Vorl enters Lab Room Eight and nods in deference to his leader. Elder Glandis is not impressed. He eyes the much younger yautja with an unamused expression.
"You wanted to see me, Elder?" N-Vorl questions.
Elder Glandis' second-in-command stands completely at attention. His combistick sways on his muscular hips and one clawed hand flexes behind his back. He is ready to eject his arm blade should the need arise.
Elder Glandis waves N-Vorl closer. The old yaujta seems even older as he removes his robe and plants it on the back of the plush office chair.
"What news do you have of the ooman female?" Glandis queries with a wry smile. "Does she intend to betray us?"
N-Vorl shifts his eyes over to the only other yautja, besides Elder Glandis, in the room. N-Vorl's gaze hardens as he returns his attention to his leader.
"As much as it pains me to admit this...," N-Vorl hesitates. "I have found no evidence that she plans to do so."
Elder Glandis laughs raucously and his commander relaxes a little. But only a little.
Elder Glandis drops down heavily into the much too small office chair. The chair's bulky armrests have already been removed to allow for the elder's wide girth. However, the massive yautja still has trouble remaining seated on the chair. He covers his discomfort by leaning towards N-Vorl conspiratorially.
"You are pained...That she has not tried to betray us?" Elder Glandis chuckles mirthlessly. "Why? So that you may kill her? You should try a little patience, N-Vorl. Everything comes in due time."
N-Vorl's mandibles open as if he means to speak, but he bites back his words. Now is not the time to incite his leader.
"Yes, Elder," N-Vorl replies instead.
"Your father was also impatient, N-Vorl!" Glandis continues. "Now, he tends the chruksh farms...And I am Elder. Do not let that be your legacy, youngblood!"
Glandis turns away and N-Vorl takes this as his cue to leave. He nods at Elder Glandis, and his commander, respectively. Standing as rod-straight as he entered the cramped ooman lab, N-Vorl swiftly marches out of it.
He is surprised to find Teresa already seated at her desk in the main lab. Her eyes are downcast and she is not even aware as he walks into the room. N-Vorl's eyes travel around the entire space.
Glotis acknowledges N-Vorl's presence with a head nod. N-Vorl returns Glotis' head nod, but immediately shifts his gaze to Dr. Boyd. His eyes narrow until they are nearly shut, and a smile tugs at the corners of his tusked mouth.