Tarian threw the doors open and marched into the makeshift lab. The cracked table bore the white-fleshed creature. He pointed at the milky corpse as he pulled the scientist closer. “What can you tell me about this thing on your slab?”

Francis stepped away from his work and glanced around the room at his colleagues. When he saw everyone else glance elsewhere, he cleared his throat. “We’ve found nothing definitive.”

Tarian’s fist clenched as he looked at each of the scientists. When his gaze fell back on Francis, he licked his lips. “You’ve had this body for a week. Keldon told you I needed answers.”

“He did,” Francis hedged.

“Then why have you been dragging your heels?” Tarian inquired as he took a step towards Francis. While Tarian loomed over the scientist, he prodded the corpse’s abdomen and his finger slid into the creature. With a shudder, he pulled it out. “Rotting or not, I need answers.”

“If our most sensitive equipment still worked, we’d have given you the intelligence already.” Francis wrung his hands, avoiding Tarian’s glare.

Tarian wiped the frustration off his face as he backed up, licking his lips. “We don’t have that luxury.”

Francis’s gaze drifted toward Tarian, the corner of his eye twitching as he tugged his collar. “Well, we triggered its flesh into changing.”

“How?”

“What we might’ve seen was nothing more than a twitch...