Teresa’s eyes struggle to open and she sits up in the bed. Her entire body is covered in a red, tacky liquid. The stickiness is what originally kept her eyes from being able to open. Forcing both eyelids to cooperate, Teresa glances around the room.


    Instead of her usual cell, Dr. Boyd is in a room covered in blood, and overflowing with piles and piles of dried bones. Many of them human. Others are from creatures she cannot identify. Scooting to the edge of the bed, Teresa prepares to stand. That is when she notices what she is wearing.


    A mesh suit covers her body from neck to ankle. Only this mesh suit is not like those worn by any yautja she has ever seen. The squares are barely a centimeter wide, and are comprised of thinner strands. The only similarity Teresa can find to an actual yautja suit is the halter top and miniskirt, resembling that worn by Glotis.


    However, that is not the full extent of Teresa’s transformation. Staring down at her hands, Teresa studies the odd protrusions at the ends of her fingertips. Are those claws? Or talons? What is going on?


    Climbing from the bed, Teresa shuffles across the floor. She skirts past the piles of bones littering almost every inch of space. Her hip brushes a particularly haphazard pile of human leg bones and ribcages. Several bones skitter loudly to the floor. One ribcage hits the floor and shatters, bones going in every direction.


    Dr. Boyd whirls to get away from the horrifying mess, and her eyes take in a gruesome sight. Hanging in one corner are several human bodies. Each one stripped of their skin. Blood slowly drips from the skinned corpses, and joins a river of red pooled beneath them on the floor. Teresa raises both hands to the sides of her face and lets out a piercing scream. She briefly shuts her eyes. Willing the portrait of death, blood and bones seared into her brain to go away.


    When Teresa opens her eyes, the bloody display of savagery is still there. But behind it, hidden in shadow, is a large red throne. A tall stooped figure sits upon the throne, his head bent forward. The beaded braids, mesh suit, and shoulder cannon automatically clue Teresa in that the throne-sitter is definitely a yautja.


    Dropping her hands from the sides of her head, Teresa creeps closer. The yautja does not acknowledge her presence. His eyes are closed and his chest barely moves. Teresa studies the throne where he sits more closely. The throne appears to be made of bone also, with skulls of all sizes lining the top and sides. Teresa shivers and considers taking a step back. But then, the silent figure moves. Ever so slightly.


    “Who are you?” Teresa hears herself say.


    The large figure raises his head, and Teresa lets out a loud gasp. She struggles against the impulse to flee.


    “N-Vorl?!” Teresa exclaims.


    But the N-Vorl who sits upon the throne of bones is not the same N-Vorl she left almost two years before. His eyes are no longer the color of lush grass. Instead, they glow with an eerie light. The apparition that is N-Vorl climbs to its feet. A menacing grin transforms the placid face to one of pure evil. He takes several heavy steps in Teresa’s direction.


    Backing slowly away, Teresa looks over one shoulder to keep from sprawling over the bones littered everywhere. When she looks forward again, N-Vorl is almost directly in front of her. Reaching out with unbelievable speed, he grabs her and draws her to him. He lowers his mouth to Teresa’s ear.


    “I like my liver right where it’s at,” the N-Vorl imposter whispers in Teresa’s own voice.


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    Teresa’s eye widen as the big yautja’s teeth sink into her neck. He grips her tightly, his claws digging into the flesh of her back. For a brief moment, Teresa imagines that he will simply tear her skin away. As he did the bodies hanging behind them like a morbid curtain. Instead, his hands loosen, and he slides one of them down the small of her back. The other hand, he presses against the side of her stomach.


    Dr. Boyd moans as he repositions his mouth under her chin. He kisses her as tenderly as if he were the real N-Vorl. Teresa finds herself embracing him tightly, his mouth finally finding hers. There is a bitter taste on his mouth, almost metallic.


    Teresa attempts to draw away, but the imposter removes his hand from her stomach and presses it against the back of her head. He kisses her more fiercely, one of his teeth slicing her bottom lip. Blood pools on her lip and he laps at it hungrily. Teresa is no longer enticed by his passionate foreplay. She pushes at the imposter’s chest.


    “N-Vorl, please…” Teresa gasps. “I…”


    The imposter releases her enough to stare down into her face. He laughs loudly and hoarsely.


    “N-Vorl?!? Is that who you think I am?” the imposter laughs.


    He hovers over Teresa so that their mouths are mere inches from each other. Teresa stares up at him, her face twisted in fear.


    “I’m not N-Vorl!” N-Vorl’s imposter says with a cruel sneer.


    Ejecting his wrist blades with a single movement, the imposter stabs Teresa through the center of her stomach. Teresa gasps loudly as he wrenches the blades free. Grasping at her abdomen, Teresa stumbles backwards. She removes one hand from her stomach and continues to back away.


    Dr. Boyd stares at the blood on her fingers with disbelief. Her vision blurs and she sways on her feet. She reaches out her red-stained hand to the yautja she had once called lover.


    “N-Vorl!” Teresa cries weakly.


    She falls heavily to her knees—still reaching for N-Vorl. The big yautja only grins. Dropping down on the palms of her hands, Teresa coughs wetly. A gout of blood erupts from her mouth and she vainly attempts to wipe it away.


    A rough hand grabs her hair and pulls her head back. Teresa blinks several times, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. This cannot be. N-Vorl is now wearing a blue work jumpsuit similar to those worn by Theodore and Harold. However the Dayshadow Industries logo has been replaced with the symbol of N-Vorl’s clan.


    The cruel yautja smirks in Teresa’s face before sadistically licking the blood running down her chin and throat. Teresa coughs again and she feels her body growing even weaker. She is slipping away.


    The imposter lowers Teresa to the crook of his arm and retrieves an aerosol spray from his breast pocket. He sprays a mist into each of Teresa’s nostrils and she exhales deeply. Staring down at Teresa’s face, the big yautja continues to smirk.


    “I will not let you die, Teresa!” N-Vorl imposter says.


    He caresses her cheek with the back of one hand. Teresa reaches down to her stomach and quickly withdraws her hand. Her fingers come away clean.


    “N-Vorl?!? Why are you doing this? What have you done to me?” Teresa yells.


    That evil smile again.


    -


    -


    Dr. Wessinger leans across the center console and addresses the technician manning the dream recorder.


    “Has she said anything useful?” Dr. Wessinger inquires.


    “She hasn’t said much,” the tech replies. “But that drug you added to her food is definitely sending her on a wild trip. If I had dreams like those…I might go crazy too! She does keep repeating one thing over and over. N-Vorl! Whatever that is. I can wash the recording through a cleaner a couple of times. Do a more thorough analysis of the surrounding images. Because the doctor is in such an elevated emotional state…Some of the images are more static than actual images. I’ll see what I can do, Dr. Wessinger.”


    “Thank you, Wesley!” Dr. Wessinger says. “Let me know when you’ve finished the cleaning process.”


    “Yes, ma’am."


    The technician goes back to his dream image cleaning, and Dr. Wessinger heads for her office. Maybe soon, she will have something of import to give her superiors. In a corner of the dream room, Brian Bashir lowers his head in shame.