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    Teresa rolls over on the bed and groans. Her cheek still aches, but the bleeding has stopped. Dr. Boyd licks a small corner of the sheet and uses the saliva to clean the dried blood on her face. The lights above her head flicker and she squints upward.


    “Another patient receiving shock treatment?” Teresa wonders.


    She prepares to stand just as a large explosion rocks the facility. Although, she is unable to hear the explosion, the resultant vibrations and the concussive force is hard to miss. She has felt such explosions before, while aboard the California.


    “What the hell?” Teresa whispers.


    Teresa runs to the door of her cell and presses her face against the cold metal. No electrical shock throws her back. She hollers through the metal of the door. Knowing, in the back of her mind, that she cannot be heard. The cells are soundproof. Only the speaker nestled into the wall allows sound in or out of the room.


    “Hey! What’s going on?” Teresa cries. “Someone answer me. Please. What is happening?”


    Teresa pounds on the door with her fists, becoming frantic at the idea of Vor’taalnis being in mortal danger. Another large explosion follows. The entire facility shudders again.


    “Hey! Someone tell me what is going on! Please!” Teresa yells. “Somebody let me out of here! LET ME OUT!”


    After a few minutes of screaming and banging her fists against the metal door, Teresa gives up. She exhales deeply and backs away. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Dr. Boyd stares at the door. Several more violent explosions send vibrations across the floating station. Teresa is able to feel the vibrations in her legs, and the palms of her hands. After what seems like forever, the vibrations—and the explosions cease.


    Teresa rises to her feet and moves in the direction of the two-way mirror at the front of her cell. She places her hands against the glass and listens futilely. Defeated and tired, Teresa rests her forehead on the cold mirror. Tapping the glass absently with a finger, she imagines Vol’taalnis safely in her arms. No longer are they in this horrible facility. They are both on a lush island—with trees covered in exotic fruits. The grass and the leaves are of a green which rivals even the green of N-Vorl’s eyes. Eyes so much like his son’s.


    In her vivid daydream, Vor’taalnis walks on chubby legs across the yellow-white sand. He picks up speed as Teresa opens her arms—his feet propelling him awkwardly forward. When Vor’taalnis reaches her, Teresa grabs him up and lifts him into the air—planting kisses on his tiny hybrid nose. Vor’taalnis’ thick hair, now long enough to sport the usual metal beads, whips with every turn of his head. He giggles and chitters as Dr. Boyd plants kisses on his face.


    “I love you, Vor’taalnis!” Teresa coos softly. “Don’t ever doubt that. You are all I have left of a life I never really appreciated. I love you.”


    Teresa kisses the infant’s nose one more time before resting his head on her shoulder. She rocks him gently, while sobbing uncontrollably.


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    The vision is so real that actual tears slide down Dr. Boyd’s cheeks. She plants one hand firmly on the two-way mirror, to the left of her head, turning her face so that her right cheek rests against the cold pane.


    An explosion—closer and much more violent—causes the door to Teresa’s cell to buckle. Teresa swivels to her right and stares at the metal door in utter confusion. Who has taken over the facility? And why? Are they going to kill everyone aboard? Flashes of her time in the California’s freezer—huddling with Harold and Theodore—crowd into her conscious mind. Teresa grimaces and backs further away from the door. She watches as the paneling near the lock begins to melt.


    “Oh hell!” Teresa whispers and hurries to her bed.


    Struggling to flip over the sturdy mattress, she finally slides it down in front of the clunky metal bedframe. The lights dim significantly and Teresa crawls under the bed. She presses both hands against her head and curls up in a tight ball.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The door to Dr. Boyd’s cell is blown off and slams against the opposite wall—missing the bed by less than a meter. Teresa squeezes her eyes shut. A familiar voice calls softly to her.


    “Teresa?” P’taal says.


    Teresa opens her eyes in disbelief, but does not respond. She listens intently for the voice to come again. Is this another psychotic trick by Dr. Wessinger? What did her last dream reveal? Do they now know about the yautja? About the science projects? About N-Vorl…And their pact of love?


    “Dr. Boyd?” A second voice calls. Mau-Nis.


    Teresa removes her hands from around her head and slowly turns over onto her stomach. Crawling toward the head of the bed, she peeks around the bedframe. The hall beyond her cell is dark as pitch, and the lights inside the cell are barely functioning. Power to the facility must have been disrupted.


    Dr. Boyd crawls completely from underneath the bed and cautiously makes her way to the door. She bites down hard on her lower lip—trying to convince herself that what she is experiencing is more than a hallucination. By the time Teresa reaches the door, her entire body is trembling. No more voices call to her. What will she find in that hallway? Orderly Stevens, or felon Norris—Dr. Wessinger herself.


    Teresa is less than a foot from the door when she changes her mind. Her eyes narrow and she shakes her head.


    “No!” Teresa whispers to herself. “No!”


    A muscular arm reaches forward out of the darkness and grips her left hand. Teresa tenses and tries to pull away, until she realizes the hand holding her wrist is not human. Teresa’s eyes grow wide as N-Vorl takes a solitary step into the cell, his brow creased with genuine concern.


    “N-Vorl!?” Teresa utters in disbelief. “But how did you—”


    Teresa’s doesn’t even finish her own statement before she hurries to N-Vorl. Enveloping his neck with her arms, she tugs him downward. His mandibles open, offering her admittance, and Teresa kisses him intensely. N-Vorl wraps his arms around Teresa’s middle, pulling her closer, adding his own passion to their embrace.


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    In the hall, the masked P’taal and Mau-Nis share a brief uncomfortable glance. Teresa’s hand slides over the robe covering N-Vorl’s back, resting just above the lump caused by his implement belt. She opens her eyes and reluctantly separates from N-Vorl, studying him closely.


    “N-Vorl?! You’re an elder?” Teresa exclaims. “They actually made you elder?”


    N-Vorl releases Teresa and peers over his shoulder at his two companions.


    “Not exactly,” N-Vorl says.


    Teresa is unable to keep from smiling as N-Vorl leads her from the cell. She spies P’taal and reaches out her other hand to him.


    “P’taal—” Teresa begins.


    Teresa’s eyes abruptly narrow and she stares forward with a deeply creased brow. P’taal looks over at Mau-Nis, believing that Teresa’s anger may somehow be directed at the command leader. In truth, Teresa isn’t looking at either of them.


    At the far end of the corridor, orderly Stevens stalks quietly, a weapon targeted at Mau-Nis’ back. Teresa remains silent, gauging the distance between herself and a dead guard’s rifle which lies on the floor. With a cruel sneer, she lunges for the weapon. The three yautja warriors in front of her are caught off-guard by her strange behavior. Not of the mind to hurt a female, without due provocation, they don’t even level their plasmacasters. Teresa grips the rifle securely with one hand, aims, and fires.


    An agonized yell cuts through the semi-darkness. The yautja warriors whirl in surprise. Orderly Stevens rolls on the ground, holding his splintered knee in both hands. Mau-Nis turns to Dr. Boyd and stares. The doctor’s face is as emotionless as stone. She calmly walks past the three yautja and heads toward orderly Stevens. When she reaches where Stevens sits rocking on the floor, Teresa raises the rifle. An expression of pure hatred alters her usually placid face.


    “No!” Stevens cries, lifting a hand in defense. “No, please. I’m sorry! I had to do it! I’m sorry! Please…They threatened my sister! And Meyer…That wasn’t my fault. She just talked too much! Please, don’t—!”


    A brief look akin to regret crosses Dr. Boyd’s face. Then, she pulls the trigger. Orderly Stevens falls to the metal floor with a soft thunk—more than half of his head blown away. Teresa closes her eyes and bites on her lower jaw.


    “Asshole,” Teresa says to no one. “I didn’t even know about Meyer!”


    Teresa presses a hand to her mouth and inhales slowly. Exhaling a brief moment later, she turns back toward her yautja companions. All three, especially the unmasked N-Vorl, are studying her intently. Teresa drops the rifle and glances down. Her hands begin to shake and she clenches them into fists.


    “He was…A bad person,” Teresa partially explains. “And he was going to shoot Mau-Nis in the back. I did what I had to do.”


    Unsure if her rationale has been accepted, Teresa takes a few steps in N-Vorl’s direction. When neither of the three yautja bristle, she realizes everything is at least okay. For now. Returning to her place beside N-Vorl, Teresa gazes at him lovingly.


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    “It’s good to see you again, N-Vorl!” Teresa says.


    She grips N-Vorl’s hand and rubs her thumb up and down his flesh—reassuring herself that he is really there. The other arm, she snakes around N-Vorl’s waist. She offers P’taal a warm smile, her eyes brimming with tears. The passive warrior’s shoulder wounds, earned while fighting the final Judas queen, appear to have healed sufficiently.


    “It’s good to see all of you again,” Teresa says.