Another Kind: A Predator/Mimic Fanfiction Crossover Novel

Teresa drops down into her chair and reboots her computer. Uploading the anti-virus program in communications central has done the trick. Although there are some minor power fluctuations, almost all programs are running as intended.

Dr. Boyd fervently types commands on her keyboard. With dedicated attention, she has managed to save the larval Judas within the damaged oothecae. Instructing her tablet to mirror the information on her desktop computer, Teresa monitors the insect’s life signs using a medical app on her tablet. The larva seems to be developing just fine. She uses the app to remotely increase the flow of nutrient-rich fluid to the holding tank’s makeshift I.V. drip.

Dr. Boyd silently watches the readouts before leaning back in her chair and sucking on her bottom lip. Teresa smiles inwardly, fond memories wafting through her mind. Memories of retired Corporal Richard Lambert Crews. Their brief time together on New Vegas. Meeting on an abandoned pier, on a foggy night, over an artificial lake. Their drunken kiss. Snuggling on his couch at the barracks. Neither of them wanting to be more than friends. For fear that to do so might invite disaster.

The loss of Richard’s arm, in the battle of Kelxer—against the superior numbers of the Earthers. A resistance group dedicated to the belief that humans should never have ventured into space. The shell of a man who returned to Earth, battered and broken. The Earther resistance was eventually put down, but the damage was already done.

She had rocked him in her arms many nights, holding him tight to her bosom. Never feeling quite the same warmth as she had felt in previous times. The look in his eyes. Never the happiness she'd once basked in. They had slowly drifted apart. Only to find each other again—months before signing up for the California’s crew. And now, Richard is dead.

A single tear rolls down Dr. Boyd’s cheek, and she angrily wipes it away. Ignoring the erratic beating of her heart, Teresa focuses on the tablet image of the larval Judas in the holding tank.

In one of the lab’s many rooms, Elder Glandis is debriefing his two lieutenants—or whatever they are called in the yautja language—, on their mission to the communications wing. Another yautja, Teresa believes it to be the one who held the briefcase before, stands behind the robed Glandis. All are now unmasked, and with very few distinctions between them, Teresa is easily confused. A fifth yautja passes by Dr. Boyd’s workstation and she offers him a kind smile. The yautja nods but continues on his way. Teresa studies his masculine form, and then goes back to her work.

-

-

“Elder, I mean no disrespect. While I agree that the ooman female is very intelligent. I strongly believe, we are taking a great risk involving her in our mission,” N-Vorl growls in his native tongue.

While he is obviously quite angry, N'Vorl is careful to keep his tone deferential. P’taal turns to his companion and raises his own voice in dissent.

“The female has already proven herself to be quite valuable,” P’taal reasons. “Without her knowledge of the creature the oomans call Judas…We might have lost more of our brave hunters.”

“It was not knowledge we could not have figured out for ourselves!” N-Vorl counters.

“Yes, but at what cost?” P’taal continues.

N-Vorl turns from P’taal and appeals to his leader once again.

“Elder? Let me dispose of the ooman female. We can proceed with our mission without her…We don’t need her,” N-Vorl insists.

A smile alters the older yautja’s face and he sweeps a hand in N-Vorl’s direction. Both P’taal and N-Vorl drop to one knee in deference to their leader. It is Elder Glandis’ turn to speak.

“The female has proven invaluable up to this point,” Elder Glandis says.

The robed leader places his open palm on the top of N-Vorl’s head. Glandis' second-in-command bristles; eyeing N-Vorl with obvious scrutiny.

“We were sent to this planet to cultivate it for the coming hunts," Elder Glandis continues. "If she is willing to help us…I don’t see why we should not work together. The oomans have provided us with both the facilities, and the groundwork. No warrior need die a useless death. Would you condemn your brothers to such an end, N-Vorl? With your petulance?!”

N’Vorl’s head snaps up and he pleads with Glandis.

“No, Elder…I would not,” N-Vorl exclaims. “But can we trust one who would betray their own kind? She has agreed to work with us…Even with the knowledge that whatever we create here could be used against her own world one day.”

P’taal chances a response. It is P'taal's belief that N-Vorl is seeking to mischaracterize the ooman scientist for his own benefit.

“I think you are reading too much into it, N-Vorl!” P’taal says in a hoarse whisper.

P'taal glances at N-Vorl from the side of his eye. He is expecting the larger yautja to put up a fuss. He is not disappointed. N-Vorl whirls on P’taal, his temper flaring.

“And you have always been too trusting, P’taal,” N-Vorl growls through clenched teeth. “The ooman female’s exact words were: ‘Why should humanity have a monopoly on warfare throughout the galaxy? Or even the universe? I don’t feel we deserve it!’ Are those not the words of a traitor, P’taal? Without loyalty...What is to keep her from revealing our most guarded secrets to one of our enemies? She cannot be trusted.”

P’taal remains silent, knowing the final word will belong to Elder Glandis. Glandis places a reassuring hand on N-Vorl’s shoulder and smiles even wider.

“That is why...I am putting you in charge of overseeing the ooman, N-Vorl?” Glandis says.

“Me, elder?!” N-Vorl says in disbelief. His mandibles click rapidly with his sudden agitation.

“I believe you are perfect for the task, N-Vorl!” Glandis says confidently. “You will keep the ooman female in line. I have spoken. We will say no more on the subject.”

Elder Glandis sweeps out of the room, headed for the lab he has designated as his quarters. The silent yautja, Glandis’ second-in-command, follows quickly behind the departing dignitary. N-Vorl glares at P’taal and climbs heavily to his feet. The yautja exchange a heated glance and then go their separate ways. P’taal to his station, and N-Vorl to find Dr. Boyd.

-

-

P’taal and N-Vorl are still in conference with Elder Glandis when Dr. Boyd decides she’s had enough of the filth. She climbs from her seat at the desk and heads for the small lounge and adjoining bathroom. Even though a thorough sweep was performed of the lab and connected areas, Teresa grabs the Orville rifle just in case. Whether or not the yautja are aware of her departure, Teresa is unsure. Quite frankly, at the moment, she doesn’t care.

Heading to a small metal locker, Dr. Boyd retrieves a new lab coat and a change of clothes. She almost skips with joy as she heads for the bathroom—and the shower within.

-

-

N-Vorl storms past the two yautja standing guard near the main entrance. He glances angrily from side to side, his beaded braids whipping with every motion. There is no sign of the ooman female.

Rather than ask his companions where the scientist has gone, N-Vorl stalks toward the lounge. With the exception of Lab Room Three, which the ooman has chosen as her private quarters, the other lab rooms have been converted into makeshift quarters for the yautja team. She will not be there. There are very few other places she might go. Unless, she has been stupid enough to try to escape.

N-Vorl's mouth widens into a savage grin. If only, she has been so foolish.

Entering the lounge, N-Vorl glances around the elaborately decorated room. He spies Teresa's shoes, where she tossed them, at the entrance to an adjoining corridor. The sound of running water catches his attention. Stepping to the end of the hallway, N-Vorl considers his options. He is almost certain of what he will find.

-

-

Teresa emerges from her shower, dressed and feeling like a new woman. The slime and grime from her skirmishes with humanoid Judas bugs has been washed away. Grabbing a towel for her head, Teresa heads back to the lounge.

Once in the lounge, she props the Orville rifle against a metal chair and bends at the waist, letting her wet hair fall around her face. Childishly, she shakes her head from side to side, allowing droplets of water to fly everywhere. Tossing her head back, and stifling a laugh; Dr. Boyd blots her hair with the towel. She does her best to pretend that everything thus far has only been a bad dream.

Movement behind her makes Teresa instinctively reach for the rifle. N-Vorl lowers his cloak and Teresa is both relieved and angry. She points toward the entrance to the employee lounge. For once, her temper flares just as hot as the adversarial yautja’s.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Teresa yells. “Were you watching me the whole time?!”

“No,” N-Vorl says. “I stood watch from here while you cleaned yourself.”

Teresa finishes drying her hair and then throws the damp towel over the back of the metal chair to dry. She grabs her Orville rifle and crosses the lounge. As she passes N-Vorl, she glances up at him.

“Right,” Teresa says dryly.

Without another word, Dr. Boyd hurries past the silent yautja and out of the lounge. N-Vorl pauses for the briefest of moments before following her from the room.