Lyre went about her work, pressing the stethoscope along Tyssa's back and chest, performing standard reflex tests, and the like. Temperature measurements would prove to be the most invasive—Lyre had to insert probes deep into Tyssa's mouth, practically down the specimen's throat. If Tyssa did not put up a struggle, the check-up would go smoothly. If Tyssa did fight against any of the data collection, Lyre would have to use more force.
As Lyre was picking up the remainder of her tools, she heard the sliding of metal against metal.
Shit. Lyre spun her head around to the entrance, body tense and eyes widened. The door the door the door—
The first thing she saw was a gaping mouth. "Lyre," came the surprised greeting. The director tilted his head. "You didn't tell me Test A had already hatched."