Another Kind: A Predator/Mimic Fanfiction Crossover Novel

Mau-Nis is barely conscious as he lies atop one of the lab tables. Dr. Boyd is in Lab Room Seven, hastily adjusting settings on the med pod to get the device to accommodate the big yautja’s physiology. She now wishes she had devoted more time to the task before everything hit the fan. Finally finding settings she believes will work, Teresa races back to the main lab.

“The table has wheels,” Teresa cries. “Pull down the lever on the right side and roll it in here. Hurry! He’s lost a lot of blood.”

P’taal and N’Vorl do as Teresa instructs. Glotis walks behind the lab table, constantly caressing the injured Mau-Nis’ blood-streaked face. The pair of male yautja heft Mau-Nis up and into the med pod.

The pod is a tight squeeze, even for the slightly thinner Mau-Nis. Height being the main issue, the commander's feet barely clear the bottom of the med pod. As soon as Mau-Nis is nestled securely inside, Teresa inputs the order for the lid to close. She immediately types another command for the pod to administer painkillers, staunch all bleeding, and cauterize the wounded stump of Mau-Nis’ right arm.

A pale light traverses the entirety of Mau-Nis’ prone body, assessing him for other injuries. The four companions watch the med pod work. Teresa is just happy it is working at all. She runs a hand through her unkempt black hair and plops down on the edge of the nearby table.

“How is this possible?” Teresa says, speaking through steepled fingers in front of her lips. “How is he even here? He left with Elder Glandis. Shouldn’t he be back on your mothership?”

When none of the yautja are forthcoming, Teresa drops her hands and stares at them all. Her blood freezes in her veins.

“You did hear back from Elder Glandis? I mean…They did make it back to the ship? Right?” Teresa presses.

“We don’t know,” P’taal finally says in a deep voice.

“You don’t know?” Teresa inquires. Her voice rises several octaves.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?" Teresa demands. "I thought you all have suit to suit communication? You didn’t check up on him? Make sure he made it back to the ship safely?”

“It is not our habit to…Check up on our Elders,” N-Vorl hisses with slight indignation. “He is our leader. A warrior. Every yautja goes into battle knowing that it could be his last.”

“But he wasn’t going into battle, N-Vorl!” Dr. Boyd argues. She points angrily at the ceiling of the lab. “He was returning to your ship! Without any idea of what he may have been up against. And there were what…Nine of your people with him? What chance do we have of getting out of here…If they didn’t?”

The lights flicker yet again. The massive disturbance swiftly moving over the downed human ship’s position. Dr. Boyd glances over at the med pod—willing the power to stay constant enough to keep the lifesaving device running.

“What about your mothership? Will they have already moved to a higher orbit? Will they even be there when…If we emerge from this ship?” Teresa inquires.

“It is hard to say,” N-Vorl admits. “During a mission or hunt…It is customary to maintain communications silence. I do not know if they are aware that Elder Glandis may be dead. Unless he gave a command to the contrary, they may have remained in low orbit. At least, until they had no choice but to leave.”

“So…If your kind believes we have failed,” Teresa says with a stab of regret. “There may no longer be a ship up there?”

“That is correct,” Glotis says with finality.

Dr. Boyd steeples her hands and lowers her face into them. Closing both eyes, she takes a deep breath—centering herself.

“But they will come back?” Teresa inquires hopefully. Mentally crossing her fingers for luck.

“If they return,” P’taal ventures to say. “They may sterilize the entire area. Vengeance for Elder Glandis’ death would be foremost on their list of objectives.”

“Unless, they have reason to believe there is someone to return for,” N-Vorl adds almost reassuringly.

Teresa is certain he only added this final thought for her benefit. She glances over at the med pod, which has finally managed to get Mau-Nis’ bleeding under control.

“He traveled quite a distance to get back here,” Teresa says wearily. “You can tell by the color and flaking of the blood on his body. Whatever attacked him, it never showed up on either of the cameras. I’ve been watching. The attack had to have occurred before we set the juveniles free. They never planned on evacuating. They went out on a search. Or…Maybe…,”

Teresa stands from her perch on the table. Snatching up her tablet, she hustles out of Lab Room Seven.

-

-

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 the injured warrior’s side, 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 drugged gaze. “You still need rest. Don’t move around too much. The med pod is feeding you nutrients to speed up your healing process. Try to remain still.”

Mau-Nis looks up into the ooman face floating above him, wanting to speak—but not finding his voice. The brave warrior’s eyes blink several times, and then fall shut. He is asleep in less than thirty seconds. Teresa continues to carefully clean his face.

N-Vorl strolls into the lab, staring up at the light fixture as the power drops off again. He moves to the table where Teresa is seated and sits down as well. He watches her through narrowed eyes.

“You believe we are going to die,” N-Vorl says rhetorically. “I have sensed it on you since your angry outburst an hour ago. You have said very little since that time. It is very unlike you.”

“There isn’t much to say,” Teresa mutters softly. “I doomed us all with this…Disgusting experiment. I was warned…And I didn’t listen. I thought I could do better than those who came before me. I thought it would be an honor to stand on the shoulders of giants and claim a scientific victory. I was wrong.”

“Sitting here…Feeling sorry for yourself…Isn’t going to help!” N-Vorl says in a stern voice. “We need solutions. Not self-pity.”

For a moment, Teresa’s temper flares red hot. She turns to peer at N-Vorl and her anger melts away. The yautja warrior is actually smiling—if you can call that a smile. Having achieved his desired reaction, N-Vorl’s eyes narrow even further.

“Do you have a solution?” N-Vorl says.

Teresa is silent for a moment. Then, she points to the device on N-Vorl’s wrist.

“That device…It's also a bomb?” Teresa asks.

“Yes,” N-Vorls confirms.

“We destroy the ship. It’s that simple. Don’t tell me you haven’t already thought about it. Isn’t that like you guy’s thing? The conflagration is sure to alert your warriors in orbit that something is terribly wrong. Maybe they’ll come back to investigate. Maybe they won’t. Even if a few specimens have already escaped…We’ll still stand a better chance of survival on the planet’s surface. We have to assume Elder Glandis…Isn’t coming back. Your people need to know. You and Glotis…Need to be on that mothership.”

The lab’s power chooses that exact moment to shut off almost completely. Only the systems Dr. Boyd rerouted power to remain functional. N-Vorl’s face hardens and he stares at Teresa with a stern expression.

“We cannot destroy the ooman ship from here,” N-Vorl says. “The blast would most certainly kill us. However, many of your creations may very well survive. I will not allow these abominations to continue to exist. Not while they wear the faces of my elder and kin.”

“I know,” Teresa says with a deep sigh. “I may have a plan for that as well.”

Reaching out a hand, Teresa’s heart races when N-Vorl grasps it in his own. N-Vorl’s fingers tighten around Teresa’s slender hand and he considers drawing her to him. Only the knowledge that Mau-Nis lies ill a short distance away, deters him from doing so. He settles for raising his opposite hand to cradle the side of Dr. Boyd’s face. No words are spoken. No words are necessary.

Teresa caresses N-Vorl’s hand, which rests on her cheek, and her stomach drops. She cannot shake the feeling that the end is very near.