The rotting scientist laughed. As she did, one of the puss-filled boils on her face popped, splashing something disgusting onto the transparent viewport of her suit. She ignored it completely. “I’m the director of this colony, Major. I don’t follow your orders. I will tell you, though. It’s imperative you are able to articulate this to my successor…” She lowered her voice, glaring at the computer console. “The Forerunner says it’s working on another instance of me, but I don’t trust it for shit. If the next batch of lab coats are a bunch of dumbasses and can’t understand my notes, I want you to explain.” She wasn’t looking at the major, but at James.