A reel of past memories courses through the pathways of Mau-Nis’ mind. He struggles to remain rooted in the present, recollecting the first time he laid eyes on the ooman scientist—the ooman female now lying beneath him.

  -

  Over two years ago

  U.S.S. California Science Vessel

  P’taal effortlessly carries Dr. Boyd back into the science vessel. Elder Glandis and Mau-Nis enter the ship a few steps behind P’taal. With a nod of his head, Elder Glandis instructs P’taal to lower Teresa to the floor. A fourth yautja enters the ship, Teresa’s flamethrower in one hand and her Orville rifle sling over his right shoulder. The shoulder cannon on the unnamed yautja’s left shoulder angles in anticipation of an attack from the ship’s insectile inhabitants. He places Teresa’s weapons some distance away and returns to the group.

  N-Vorl steps opposite P’taal and glares down at the ooman female lying on the floor. She has not stirred since he administered the aerosol spray into her nostrils. That was some time ago.

  “How long do we wait, Elder?” N-Vorl says, addressing Elder Glandis. “She may be asleep for a long time.”

  Elder Glandis chitters and turns an impatient stare in N-Vorl’s direction.

  “We will wait as long as necessary,” Glandis commands in a deep growl. “What is it, youngblood? Do you have somewhere you must be?”

  Soft chitters fill the transport hangar as N-Vorl’s companions share a laugh at his expense—and his uncle’s bidding. N-Vorl is absolutely furious, but he nods with deference.

  “No, Elder,” N-Vorl says as calmly as possible. “My place is here.”

  Elder Glandis smiles. He looks around at his contingent of six masked hunters and opens his arms wide.

  “We have eliminated the ooman threat on this vessel,” Glandis chitters. “We have achieved yet another honorable victory for our clan. Now, it is time for the seeding. Our scientific team is preparing to come down to the planet as we speak. The ooman is a scientist. Mau-Nis has uncovered information to this effect. The creatures…Similar to our enemy the keinde amedha…Which infest this ooman ship…Will be used to our advantage. She will either help us. Or she will die on the planet’s surface. That is our way.”

  N-Vorl chitters softly and Mau-Nis bristles from his place behind Elder Glandis. This nephew of the elder is quickly becoming a problem. Always brooding, covertly questioning Glandis’ orders, and looking to brawl. If N-Vorl is set against the ooman female, it does not bode well for her. He did not bargain to save the female’s life, only to have this impudent brute callously murder her.

  The ooman female finally stirs nearly thirty minutes later. A full two hours after N-Vorl knocked her out with his spray. Her eyelids flutter open and she glances around in confusion. Before she can sit up, N-Vorl slams a foot into her ribcage. The female falls back, her head striking the floor.

  Mau-Nis watches N-Vorl through the filter on his interface. The elder’s cruel nephew is actually enjoying the fear on the ooman female’s face. Mau-Nis’ blood runs hot, but he says nothing. If Elder Glandis makes a demand, only then will Mau-Nis move against the insolent youth. Until then, the brute will be allowed to have his fun.

  The female tries to cradle her aching head with a hand. P’taal, following N-Vorl’s lead, presses a foot down on her reaching arm. The female hollers out—her breath partially stolen by N-Vorl’s large foot on her chest. The seven yautja warriors finally materialize and the ooman female utters a short gasp.

  Mau-Nis watches the female from his place behind Elder Glandis. Glandis is wide, but Mau-Nis is almost a head taller. The expression on the ooman female’s face changes from terror to something not quite recognizable. Something like a smile tugs at her lips, but she almost immediately wipes it off and barks at N-Vorl.

  “I can’t breathe,” Teresa gasps. Anger floods her body—her voice rising in pitch. “Get off of me!”

  Moments later, the ooman female is eventually on her feet—with the assistance of P’taal. Mau-Nis scrutinizes her using the many filters of his mask. Her heart beats at an accelerated rate. However, the rate gradually decreases as she glances around her—her fear lessening. Their presence has had a calming effect on her. Very strange. Whatever is on this ship; she is more afraid of it than she is of them.

  “Why are we even here? What do you want?” the ooman scientist demands.

  Elder Glandis steps forward, as does Mau-Nis. In his hand, Mau-Nis is carrying the leather briefcase containing the bug pod the doctor scavenged. The ooman female’s eyes widen with shock.

  “No,” Dr. Boyd whispers inaudibly. “Oh no.”

  This close to the female, Mau-Nis is able to discern more details about her. Her light-brown skin is moist from perspiration—her scent wafting lightly in the air. Her smell is almost sweet, and there is a hint of something familiar. Something…

  Mau-Nis shakes his head slightly, trying to maintain control of his senses. Nevertheless, as Mau-Nis stands beside Elder Glandis, he is grateful for the masks they wear. Without them, his companions might notice the way that his eyes study the ooman doctor. Are others feeling the same emotions? How can this be? She is not of their kind?

  Mau-Nis’ eyes pass over the female’s large chest mounds, and linger on her slender waist. He can imagine his arm slipping around her. He can imagine rubbing his cheek against hers, and filling her with his descendants. Mau-Nis now understands why V’Daha—and its colony of hybrid childlings—exists. Sometimes, the urge is too great.

  -

  Mau-Nis goes over the events of the past several hours in his head. Yet, his mind keeps returning to one immutable fact. Teresa can never truly be a mate to N-Vorl. Nevertheless, the future elder has chosen her as the object of his affection. But for how long? Mau-Nis knows of numerous leaders, from numerous other worlds, who have fathered childlings—only to abandon them for the sake of ambition.

  V’Daha is a world full of such examples. Second and third generation families whose patriarchs never returned. Will this also be Teresa’s fate? He cannot be sure that it will. However, should N-Vorl eventually cast her away, he will not. Were it not for this ooman doctor, he would surely have thrown himself upon the mercy of the Judases. He will never abandon her. She will never be alone. He must get her to V'Daha. Even if it requires treachery. He must convince her it is for the best.

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  Mau-Nis’ mind travels from place to place, snapshots from the past increasing his resolve. He leans forward and kisses Teresa intensely. Images from the ooman computer explode in his mind. Images of the ooman torturer, as he cut and bit Teresa’s flesh. Her agonized screams as the ooman male ravaged her body.

  Mau-Nis chitters nervously, content in the knowledge that her ooman tormenter died by a yautja’s sharpened blade.

  -

  Elder Glandis returns from the hunt with his original warrior party and three others. Mau-Nis steps forward. He glances over at Teresa, who is seated at her desk. Something about the ooman’s demeanor is markedly different. Not to mention, she has washed and combed her long black hair. Her ooman attire is not the same as when they left for their hunt—the front of her blouse more open and revealing. A secret smile plays over the ooman doctor’s face and she watches the hunting party with gleaming eyes.

  Some of the light goes out of her eyes when she views the two dead yautja being carried along on a tarp. Pressing a hand to her mouth, Teresa climbs from her chair. She turns to go into the ooman lounge, but Glotis halts her with a solemn yell. In Glotis’ right hand, she holds the head of a Judas queen—suspended in a mesh net.

  “We killed another queen. I thought you might want her head for—,” Glotis intones.

  Dr. Boyd lets out a sharp gasp and backs away.

  “Why would you bring that to me?!” Teresa whispers hoarsely. “I don’t want it!”

  Teresa backs away and hurries into the lounge. Glotis swivels to face Elder Glandis, whose mandibles are clicking furiously. N-Vorl has turned to stare after the ooman doctor. The young warrior’s eyes are wide with concern. Mau-Nis tightens the folds of flesh around his mouth and says nothing.

  -

  A sound similar to a talon strumming the strings of a bhliahk wafts into Mau-Nis’ subconscious thoughts. His left arm twitches, and he claws his way back to consciousness. Unimaginable pain courses through his right arm. So much pain.

  Mau-Nis wakes up with a start. He tries to use his right arm to sit up, only to remember that it is no longer there. Teresa is seated on a chair nearby. She pulls her chair closer to Mau-Nis’ and mops his forehead with a moist towel—wiping away remnants of blood from around his prickly hairs.

  “We did what we could,” Teresa says. She meets the yautja’s pained gaze. “You need rest. Don’t move around too much. Try to remain still.”

  Mau-Nis looks up into the ooman face floating above him—not finding his voice. The warrior’s eyes blink several times, and then shut. Teresa continues to carefully clean his face. The sound again, like a bhlaihk. The ooman. Is she singing?

  -

  Teresa sits on the edge of the table and raises both arms. In her hands is gripped a bulky weapon, attached to a black heavy duty battle harness. She offers the weapon to Mau-Nis with a saddened expression.

  “I know you’ve been through so much, Mau-Nis. But it’s not over yet. We’re sure the Judases are planning to overrun this part of the ship. We need everyone packing heat. Seeing as how you no longer have your shoulder weapon…I thought you might appreciate a replacement.”

  “You do not need to beg me to kill the enemy who slaughtered my elder,” Mau-Nis says. “I am honored to go back into battle.”

  Climbing to her feet, Teresa helps Mau-Nis into the battle harness—attaching the metallic weapon to where his arm formerly took up residence. She explains the basics of the weapon while securing it to his muscular body.

  “It works with a neural interface,” Teresa says. “Just look at what you want to shoot, and give the command.”

  Mau-Nis nods, as Dr. Boyd finishes attaching various pieces of the harness to his body. Teresa completes her work—peering at Mau-Nis with admiration.

  “The battle harness belonged to an ex-colonial marine buddy,” Teresa explains. “Richard lost his arm fighting on New Vegas. He was part of the civilian security team in charge of the labs. He was killed. Never thought we’d have a reason to use that mech-gun harness. It’s a prototype. You get to take her out on her maiden voyage.”

  Mau-Nis nods again, a peculiar gleam in his eyes.

  “Thank you,” Mau-Nis says.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Teresa teases. “I don’t have time to properly train you. You’re about to get the crash course.”

  Mau-Nis finds himself studying the ooman doctor’s face with more than casual interest. His gaze wanders to her lips. The flesh there is moist and of two different—but similar—colors.

  -

  Mau-Nis returns to the present. He shuts both eyes and draws in a breath. In all of his time serving the clan, Mau-Nis has heard scattered tales of such couplings between oomans and yautja. Spoken in hushed whispers. The reality is a lot less vile and grim. In her own way, the ooman is strangely beautiful. Her long dark hair, supple skin, shapely body, and large chest mounds. For an ooman—she is beautiful.

  “I have not spoken truthfully,” Mau-Nis utters in a solemn voice. “In truth, I wanted you long before the loss of my arm. Yet, such things…Are forbidden.”

  Teresa’s eyes open and she peers up at Mau-Nis’ sad face. She reaches up a hand to stroke his forearm.

  “What we do here…Can never happen again,” Teresa exclaims, tears sliding down one cheek.

  Mau-Nis blinks and exhales again. His mouth curls into a wistful smile.

  “I know,” the command leader confesses. "I love you…Teresa,” Mau-Nis says with uncertainty.

  The wariness in Mau-Nis’ voice is evident. Teresa heart feels as if it will beat out of her chest. She attempts to make eye contact with Mau-Nis. Even N-Vorl has never made such a declaration. At least, not to her. Mau-Nis purposely averts his eyes.

  “I do not know…What else to call it,” Mau-Nis explains. “I think of you all the time. I am confused in my mind. I’ve only felt this…One other time. When I was mated to Sihlaa. She has been dead for a long time. Longer even…Than we were mated together. Killed during a hunt. The youngbloods under her tutelage made a fatal error. They all paid for it. I still love her. But…I believe…I love you also. You are much like Sihlaa. Strong and determined. We had no childlings. There was never enough time to try. N-Vorl is more honored than he realizes. To pass on one’s line to the next generation…Is the greatest honor. If Vor’taalnis were mine…I would protect him at all costs.”

  Teresa repositions her body under Mau-Nis, struggling to meet his gaze. She reaches and turns his face.

  “You can’t say that to me, Mau-Nis!” Teresa sobs. “You just can’t!”

  Mau-Nis’ mouth droops and his eyes soften. He lowers his head to kiss Teresa’s forehead.

  “I don’t expect you to say that you love me,” Mau-Nis says. “But I want you to understand…Why I have done…What I have done. You were brave to have gone through so much. And still refuse to give the other oomans the information they sought. I have seen the images. I am sorry. I will not allow you to return to Yautja Prime…To face more of the same.”

  Teresa’s blood chills in her veins and tears stream down her face. Mau-Nis wipes away her tears with the flesh of his cheeks. This time, he meets her gaze.

  “You will be safe on V’Daha,” Mau-Nis says. “It is an abandoned world once inhabited by one of our greatest enemies. The stories told about the planet are greatly exaggerated. To discourage travel to its surface. No one will look for you there. We will tell them you are already dead. Once we show our leaders the images…They will believe it. I also incorporated quite a few images taken from the dream device. Your death will appear as real as I can make it. You will never have to worry about being hunted again.”

  “Mau-Nis…Why are you doing this?” Teresa pleads. “Why are you risking everything…For me?”

  “I have already told you,” Mau-Nis replies.

  Teresa peers up into the yautja leader’s face. Confusion and a mix of other emotions do battle in her mind. She covers one side of her face with a hand and turns away. Teresa’s sobs jar the command leader to his core. He kisses the hand she used to hide her face. Leaning forward, Mau-Nis also kisses the purple bruise on her cheek left by the ooman guard’s weapon.

  “I will make sure you are safe,” Mau-Nis says. “Even if you cannot love me.”

  For a few minutes more, Mau-Nis and Teresa pretend at lovemaking.