<div>
<div>
Two days later
Dr. Wessinger arrives at Teresa’s cell with three new guards. Each guard is outfitted with thick insulated boots and carries a large electronic stunner. Teresa’s heart races as she spies the shock weapons. What are they planning to do to her now?
Dr. Wessinger steps forward with an evil grin. The older woman is relishing the expression of fear she reads on Teresa’s face.
“I thought you might like to become familiar with your new gatekeepers!” Wessinger says. “They will be accompanying you and Mr. Stevens to the showers from now on. We’ve had some security breaches lately. One of our orderlies, Ms. Meyer, never reported to work a few mornings ago. She was later found in a compost chute. If you can believe that!?! While we cannot rule anything out…Foul play is definitely suspected. We will be taking no more chances. No one goes anywhere without an armed guard.”
Teresa sees right through Wessinger’s bullcrap. So that’s what had happened to Meyer? No matter what Wessinger says, Teresa knows that Meyer‘s death was no accident. This is Dr. Wessinger’s way of threatening her. Coaxing her to speak up. Or, she will be next. What cardinal sin did Meyer commit, to call down Wessinger’s cruel wrath?
“I’m sorry to hear about Ms. Meyer,” Teresa says dryly. “She was a horrible woman. I’m sure she’ll be sorely missed.”
The Next Morning
The new orderly, Consuelo Martin, enters the cell carrying Vor’taalnis. Two guards flank the orderly, their weapons leveled in Dr. Boyd’s direction. Teresa allows Orderly Martin to place Vor’taalnis at the foot of the bed. Once Consuelo backs away, Teresa crawls over the bed and grabs Vor’taalnis up. Her eyes grow wide with horror.
Vor’taalnis’ color is almost gray and his vibrant green eyes appear lifeless. The infant’s breaths are shallow and weak. Teresa drops her head to Vor’taalnis’ chest in order to listen to his heartbeat. The infant is very close to death. Closer than he has ever been.
Teresa carefully places Vor’taalnis back on the mattress and climbs to her feet. With a feral scream, she races toward the door to her cell. The lock engages just as she reaches it. She bangs on the metal door with a closed fist.
“You bastards! Look what you’ve done!” Teresa cries. “You’ve nearly killed him! You’ve almost killed my son! Bastards! How can you do this? He’s only a child! He’s my child! I hope you all burn in hell! Do you hear me?!? All of you!”
Teresa is just backing away from the door when the first jolt of electricity hits her. She falls back onto the floor and writhes, clenching her jaw and her fists tightly. On the bed, Vor’taalnis lets out a weak cry. When the current ceases, Teresa flips over onto her belly. She crawls painfully to the bed, and reaches an arm up to the mattress. Feeling blindly for Vor’taalnis, she touches his tiny foot under the blanket. She rubs his foot and begins to hum. She searches for the strength to rise to her feet, and fails. Resigned to temporarily comfort the infant, from her place on the floor, Teresa rests her head against the side of the mattress.
-
-
Teresa’s eyes flutter open at the sound of Vor’taalnis’ strained cries. Half-crawling onto the bed, Teresa falls on the mattress beside her very weak son. She pulls back the blanket from his tiny body, and examines him carefully. He does not appear to have been experimented on. No adhesive from tags, no electrode burns, and no bruising from needles. It seems the science team are sufficiently satisfied simply withholding nourishment from the infant hybrid.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Teresa lies back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. She contemplates whether it is worth it to continue feeding Vor’taalnis. Is she prolonging his inevitable death by going along with Dr. Wessinger’s cruel torture? Would he not be better off dead?
Teresa glances toward the other side of the bed. She considers grabbing a pillow and suffocating Vor’taalnis. However, the vile thought only persists for a moment. Gripping the top-right corner of her gown, she undoes the buttons. She lowers the material and rolls over on her side. Still too weak to sit up, Teresa draws Vor’taalnis to her bosom. At first, the infant has difficulty latching on. Dr. Boyd helps him to do so, watching his tiny eyes close.
To murder her own child? Never. If he is to die, it will not be by her hand. Should it be by Wessinger’s hand—the old scientist will pay dearly. She will pay with her life.
Teresa places her other arm beneath Vor’taalnis, cradling him in the crook of her elbow. The childling feeds energetically now, and Teresa closes her eyes as well.
-
-
Dr. Wessinger grins and walks closer to the long mirror in front of her. She lightly fingers the two-way glass.
“Now…You see, Dr. Buederson?” Wessinger says. “There is no way in Hell…She doesn’t know who the father of her child is!”
Dr. Buederson glares at his female colleague and crosses to the glass mirror as well.
“How the hell can you know that, Elmira?!?” Edward hisses loudly. “She’s a distraught mother watching her infant starve to death!”
“No…No…No, Edward!” Dr. Wessinger says. “Pay closer attention to her behavior. The manner in which she says things.”
Dr. Wessinger places her hand against the glass and stares in Teresa’s direction.
“What woman would have such a vitriolic reaction…About the offspring of a simple experiment?” Dr. Wessinger explains. “She absolutely knows who the father of her child is. Otherwise…Why not just kill it? Put an end to all of this. Take away all of my bargaining chips. The child is practically dead already. Nevertheless, she won’t end its suffering. She continues to hold out hope. When there is no hope. She won’t kill the child because she loves the father!”
Dr. Buederson runs a hand over the back of his neck, wiping the cold sweat pooling on his flesh. What Dr. Wessinger has said makes some degree of sense. Why is Dr. Boyd so attached to the infant? She had once declared her insemination the work of nightmares. So why keep the child of a nightmare?
As Dr. Wessinger turns to walk away. Dr. Buederson pipes up.
“I want to talk to her again,” Dr. Buederson says. “Alone.”
“As you wish,” Dr. Wessinger replies in a mocking tone.
Every personnel member files down the hallway, except Dr. Buederson. He watches the infant nurse at Dr. Boyd’s bosom with renewed interest. What the hell was she doing out there in deep space? And who the hell was she doing it with?
-
-
Teresa groans and turns over on her back. Vor’taalnis lies only inches away, asleep. Dr. Boyd repositions on the bed and her brow creases. She is in the midst of another nightmare.
Imposter N-Vorl gently caresses Teresa’s face. She watches him, and his bladed arm, with wary eyes.
“Do you not trust me?” N-Vorl’s doppelganger intones. “Do you no longer love me, Teresa? Do you fear me?”
Teresa opens her mouth to reply, but the imposter places a taloned finger to her lips. Dr. Boyd flinches, expecting him to lash out with his weapon. The cruel smile on the hunter’s face widens and he lowers his face close to Teresa’s. Her back is pressed against the blood covered floor, the stickiness making her skin crawl. As N-Vorl’s double draws closer, Teresa feels close to fainting.
“Only answer truthfully,” the double says.
He lowers his head to beside Teresa’s ear and sniffs the air around her. Dr. Boyd is still baffled as to how the yautja can have such acute olfactory senses without a visible nose. Even the real N-Vorl had been very in tune with her emotions, knowing exactly what buttons to push. This imposter, is even more so. Perhaps, because he is only a dream. Things are always worse in a dream.
Once he is finished sniffing her, the doppelganger snuggles his face against Teresa’s cheek. A soft chitter issues from his lips, slowly morphing into a guttural laugh. Teresa cringes as he cups her face with a large hand, pressing her cheek tighter to his. His laughter causes her stomach to lurch and she forces his voice out of her head with thoughts of the real N-Vorl—and of Vor’taalnis.
The laughter only stops when he presses his mouth to her lips. Teresa tenses, already sensing what is coming. The imposter stabs his wrist blades into her stomach with a forceful thrust. Teresa whimpers, refusing to give him the pleasure of hearing her scream. This only causes N-Vorl’s double to twist his blades harder into her flesh. Finally, Teresa can take no more.
<div>
The scream which escapes her slumbering lips awakens her from the hellish nightmare. Vor’taalnis whimpers beside her. Teresa pulls the infant to her chest and kisses his forehead.