Teresa steps into the small bathroom at the back of the stone house. To her surprise, there is a large tub and shower. Warm water flows from the spout like a fountain and recirculates through a thin reservoir to do it all over again. More than likely, fed by a hot spring. A thin layer of mist floats over the water, enticing Teresa to slide into its warm depths. Vor'taalnis peeks around Teresa's leg, before grabbing her hand and pointing at the water. He peers up at his mother with a wide yautja grin.

  "Of course," Teresa says tiredly. "We'll clean up a bit. Then, we'll sleep. You first, baby. Mommy needs some time alone to think."

  Vor'taalnis chitters loudly, repeating a phrase Teresa has heard him utter on many occasions. Is he trying to speak? Is he speaking? In yautja?

  Teresa bends and begins undressing Vor'taalnis. She stares into his green eyes and repeats the phrase. Vor'taalnis smiles even wider and wraps his arms around Teresa's neck. He utters the same phrase a second time.

  "Is that what I am, Vor'taalnis? Fee-tah-ee-yah?"

  Teresa points to her own chest as she says these words. The hybrid childling's eyes soften and his voice increases in pitch.

  "F'taya!" Vor'taalnis chitters excitedly.

  Teresa leans forward and kisses her son's forehead. Tears spring to her eyes and she pulls him close. Although he has never been to his ancestral home, Vor'taalnis carries the same faint scent of oceanlike musk all yautja seem to share. Teresa breathes in deeply--thinking of N-Vorl. And the heavy guilt of her betrayal.

  "Yes, I am your mother. And you are my son. Never forget that. I hope that one day...We can understand each other. Oh, what have I done?"

  Vor'taalnis tilts his small head, thick black hairs whipping.

  "Muth-er!" he says in a deep voice, almost too deep for a child.

  Teresa's mouth drops open and she pulls Vor'taalnis even tighter to her chest. Tears fall from her eyes like rain and she kisses his face over and over.

  "Yes. Yes, I am Mother. Thank you, Vor'taalnis. Thank you. I am so happy."

  Vor'taalnis' brow crinkles and he chitters loudly.

  "Muth-er!"

  -

  -

  Teresa gently rubs the moist flesh of her sleeping son's back, as she carries him from the bathroom. She lowers Vor'taalnis to the firm bed in the room they will share. The childling hardly stirs.

  Covering him with a blanket, she kisses him affectionately and then creeps out of the room. Returning to the bathroom, she begins to undress. A tall mirror, large enough for a yautja, stands opposite the shower. Teresa crosses to it and removes her blouse.

  She studies the numerous scars crisscrossing her breasts, eyes taking on a faraway look. Using the index finger of her right hand, she leans forward and examines the round wound left by the bullet which killed young Brian Bashir.

  Dr. Wessinger could have ordered that the med pod completely erase any signs of a gunshot wound. However, the cruel woman had wanted Teresa to remember how close to death she had come. How close she had still been.

  Backing away from the mirror, Teresa finishes undressing. She steps into the shower's warm stream. Almost immediately, she is assaulted by mental images of N-Vorl. His large frame pressing against her, one hand sliding over her moist body, his mouth repeatedly finding hers as he gently reclined her head back.

  Teresa hugs herself and struggles to hold back tears. Failing miserably, she leans against the shower wall. More memories. Waking up in the communal shower aboard the California, sitting propped up against the wall, trying to remember how she had gotten there. Of course, her yautjian shadow.

  How her mind had churned with ideas and plans. Ideas on how to seduce the big lug of a yautja. Which hadn't proven to be very hard. By the time they had made love, Teresa had already made it up in her mind that they should. The experience had been better than anything she could have ever imagined.

  N-Vorl had proven to be a master at lovemaking, teaching and being taught--quickly following through with what he felt was expected and would bring the most pleasure. At first, Teresa had become overwhelmed, wanting to end their tryst before it really began. N-Vorl's softly spoken words had given her room for pause, the sturdy hunter tenderly caressing her face and neck. Hovering above her, five words was all he whispered.

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  "I will not hurt you."

  Once again lowering his mouth to Teresa's lips, N-Vorl had kissed her passionately. By the time he'd entered her, for the first time, Teresa's flesh was already moist from sweat. It hadn't helped matters that after the yautja's arrival on the California, the mysterious aliens had kept the science ship impossibly hot.

  She and N'Vorl had alternated between sessions of passionate lovemaking and brief periods of rest. Mostly for Teresa's sake. Each time, N-Vorl had lowered his head between her breasts, listening to the sound of her heartbeat. Checking her? Ensuring she would be okay to move on? Or simply enjoying the closeness of her body? She had never thought to ask.

  Returning to the present, Teresa runs both hands through her wet hair. The tears have stopped flowing, but now her mind churns with a whole new problem. Mau-Nis, the beautifully stoic hunter.

  Their lovemaking had been more subdued. Mau-Nis, by his very nature, was extremely cautious and careful. Her wellbeing had remained paramount at all times. Even his entrance into her body had been careful and measured.

  Mau-Nis' kisses were slightly messier, more tongue than mouth and closed teeth. However, he had seemed to enjoy kissing her. Even more so than N-Vorl. Which is to say, quite a lot.

  Teresa and Mau-Nis' intermittent episodes of coitus had been brief, less frequent, and not as passionate. Not surprising, considering the perilous circumstances surrounding their impromptu coupling. Nonetheless, she had enjoyed it.

  By the time Mau-Nis had helped her to stand, and carried her to the shower, Teresa was already missing his touch. Once in the shower, he had refrained from touching her. Mentioning something about strange scents and yautja senses. Teresa's mind had been screaming for his attentions, not really hearing what he was saying. Anything to wipe away the memories of felon Norris, or the eerie sense of orderly Stevens' eyes sliding over her naked body.

  Mau-Nis had cleaned himself and slipped from the shower, only giving Teresa a sidelong glance and a wistful smile. Not so much as a light touch on her shoulder, as N-Vorl always sought to do, finding every opportunity to touch her.

  Teresa shakes her head in sadness. She peers upward at the sound of a detonation in the distance. The other craft?

  Finishing her shower, Teresa rakes her fingers through her hair and then climbs out. She steps into orderly Meyer's knee-length black skirt and reaches for the purple blouse she chose to pair with it. Strolling out of the small bathroom, Teresa places her left arm in the sleeve and is prepared to shove her right arm into the other sleeve.

  She issues a short gasp when she catches sight of Vildif's muscular back. The V'Dahan leader stands facing away from her, staring down at Vor'taalnis. He turns suddenly, at the sound of Teresa's exhalation. His mouthfolds draw apart as he accidentally views her partial nudity. He looks away sheepishly.

  "I am sorry." Vildif says. "I came because...I wished to see the childling. He is much like I was...At his age. I...I am sorry."

  "I'm sure things are different here on V'Daha. And wherever else the yautja may hail from. But where I'm from...We knock before entering," Teresa says peevishly, drawing the front of her blouse together and shielding her chest from view. "Now, please...I'd like to get dressed."

  Vor'taalnis stirs on the bed, his green eyes opening. He tilts his head, staring at Vildif with curiosity. Vildif nods respectfully and turns to leave. He offers Vor'taalnis a kind smile before heading down the short hallway. Teresa watches him go, feeling like a cruel worm.

  Crossing to the bed, Teresa drops down onto it, not even bothering to button her blouse. Mental exhaustion overcomes her and she curls up on the firm mattress. Vor'taalnis nestles close, his green eyes staring up at her face.

  "Muth-er?" he says softly.

  Teresa is unable to hear him. She has slipped into an involuntary almost comatose slumber.

  -

  -

  Vildif rushes to the place where Yau-tala and Scar are welcoming the newcomers. Five ooman females. Two of a darker hue, and two of a lighter hue with dark hair. There is also a gray haired female accompanied by an ooman male childling. Another male childling holds the hand of his darker skinned mother. Although, she is only slightly lighter than the darkest hued one. Vildif bristles at the sight of the male childlings. According to his father's stories, ooman males are known to cause trouble and start fights. But no matter. Females must receive pleasure from somewhere.

  One of the ooman females; the darker-skinned female with flowing black curls, is heavy with the descendant of her sire. She will need to be given accommodations quickly. One of the two lighter-hued females presses a palm against her stomach and glances at the other childlings woefully. From her scent, she has recently been heavy with descendants. But no more. Such things do happen.

  Vildif strides to Elder Scar's side and motions for his attention.

  "Father, I must speak with you."

  "I am listening."

  "The first ooman to arrive. The one who called herself, Teresa Boyd...I glimpsed wounds on her body which were--. Father, wherever she came from...It was not a good place. Why are there no hybrids among the new arrivals? What is this?"

  "I'm not sure," Scar says, eyes narrowing. "I wonder...Could all of these females belong to a single yautja elder?"

  "That would be...Interesting to learn," Vildif says with a crafty smile.

  Scar chuckles softly and returns his son's wolfish grin. His mind races with images of various elders trying desperately to juggle the affairs of their enormous clans and the needs of numerous females as well. It would not be an easy task.

  "Interesting indeed. What could one elder do with so many females, except garner a headache?"

  Elder Scar's jovial mood dissolves. One face, so similar to one he has held and kissed, pushes past the collage of elders and females floating in his consciousness.

  "But what of the wounds you speak of, Vildif? On the female? We will need to learn more. What does it all mean?"