Species II by Yvonne Navarro Page A

her enclosure, her head lifting as she reached outstretched hands and pressed them against the glass. A chill ran across the nape of Press’s neck as he realized that she was actually smelling them through the walls of the habitat.
    Sense returned abruptly and Press wheeled on Burgess. Furious, he grabbed the military man by the front of his coat and shook him as hard as he could. “You glass-eyed son of a bitch,” he growled, his face nearly pushed against Burgess’s. “You grew another one!”
    “Lennox, calm down—”
    “Why?” Press demanded. It was all he could do to keep his fist from drawing back. “Tell me why!”
    “What the hell are you two doing in here?”
    That voice . . .
    Press released Burgess with a shove and spun, stopping short at the sight of the so familiar face. A hundred, no a thousand, memories crashed together in his head—love and laughter and fighting, then bitter pain at the end of a relationship gone bad. And the worst of them all, involving a relative of the she-creature watching everything with keen interest from behind a glass barrier a few feet away. “Laura?” he asked stupidly.
    Laura Baker ignored him and directed her icy words to the man at his side. “You know the rules, Colonel Burgess. No men in the lab.”
    Burgess stood stiffly, unaccustomed to being chastised. “We have an emergency here, Dr. Baker. We can take it outside if you like—”
    Laura’s laugh was cold and disgusted, her expresssion rigid. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? You’ve already contaminated the atmosphere. But please—let me say thank-you for wasting two years of work inside of thirty seconds. Your forethought and ability to obey biohazardous instructions are truly amazing.” She glanced over her shoulder at the habitat, where the young woman inside still stood at the glass, studying the men with shrewd interest. “Great,” Press heard her mutter. “So much for a controlled environment.”
    Press finally found his voice. “I can’t believe you’re involved in this bullshit,” he said incredulously. “Of all the people who should know better—”
    “Dr. Baker is in control of this facility,” Burgess told him as Laura folded her arms and scowled at both of them. “It was under her direction that the alien was re-created.”
    He shoved the Glock back into its holster, but Press could feel his face grow hot. “That bitch killed friends of ours, for God’s sake,” he hissed. “How could you breed another one. How?”
    For a second Laura looked at though she might shout at him; then her face softened. “It’s different this time, Press. Half of her alien genes are dormant—”
    “Oh, great,” he said angrily. “Sil Lite. I feel much better!”
    “Her name is Eve,” Laura snapped, “not Sil. And this is not the same creature. We’ve dampened her mating instincts, strictly avoiding the presence of testosterone in this laboratory.” Her mouth twisted and she sent another look of resentment toward Colonel Burgess. “At least until you two brainwaves barged in.”
    “This has got to be the most insane thing I’ve ever heard you come up with.” Press turned and would’ve pounded his fist on something, but he couldn’t find anything that looked like it wouldn’t break. “What if she gets out?” he yelled instead.
    Laura’s response was amazingly calm, considering how completely freaked out Press felt right now. “She won’t. But if she does, we have that.” She turned and gestured across the laboratory to a gleaming gold control console affixed to the wall. Next to it stood another of the female guards with an unconventional American Arms twelve-gauge slung over one shoulder and a standard-issue Beretta 9mm in a holster at her waist; one hand rested on the console and the hard-faced woman’s attention was exclusively focused on the habitat and its occupant. Spray-painted in the usual black military stencil across the side of the control box were