Let The Games Begin..

~ Onwards and upwards children..~

~*~*~*~

It had not taken them long – it had become increasingly necessary for a clan to mark their own hunts; each with a beacon to warn or to welcome depending on those landing. When the devices hails had not been answered, like it had been programmed to it phoned home. First there had been anger. Anger as numerous pairs of eyes had watched the recording the machine had made. A ship; an ooman ship had landed and then within two hours had departed, leaving their carefully cultivated Kainde Amedha hive obliterated; nothing was salvageable. The elder of the clan had at first expressed anger, then disbelief followed swiftly by curiosity.

Oomans, the famous soft meat preys hunting the Kainde Amedha?

Ridiculous!

It was enough to give the elder a headache; enough of one to also make him issue orders for the trail to be found and the oomans were to be followed. It again did not take them long. Within the space of two days they had found them. The reactor signature matched perfectly as did the ships design. The elder, having simmered down his temper wanted the oomans taken alive, after a fashion. Those that would come without violence would be taken; those that fought would be taken by force and if that force turned deadly then so be it – his wall could always use more trophies and even through soft meat prey could sometimes be more bothersome than their hides were worth; a trophy from something that killed hard meats was a worthy addition to any hunters wall.

With a final command to all those under his command the elder issued a last message via their comm. system.

“Dtai'k-dte sa-de nav'g-kon dtain'aun bpide..”

With a short burst of static the message ended.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Di’Sha growled low in his throat. Here they were surrounded by oomans, Tarei’hsan’s; the lowest of those that were preyed upon and were they about to hunt them? Adorn their walls with skulls and have songs sung about their glorious hunt? Pauk no. H’tch hissed a warning. Di’Sha silenced himself but he was not about to let his own brother issue anything to him, he should be showing deference but anger gave him blinkers about how he felt at the fact his Chiva had been vaporised. Pauking oomans.

They had traced minute quantities of the ship that had been in orbit and then landed on the chosen Chiva planet, which had used their version of the ‘Kiss of Midnight’ and then left. It had taken them two cycles to track it, with most of his time spent posturing for the females who turned their noses up without seeing him marked and carrying the heads of his kills. This put an even tighter coil on his fury and he also knew that he was not the only unblooded who thought this way. He and the others had become excited when the news broke out that the renegade ooman ship had been confirmed and that they were to land and ‘capture’ them.

Talk about unsatisfactory. He also hated the smells and sights of this backwater ooman infested world. The elders had ordered reconnaissance, not termination, which had angered the un-blooded, but the open defiance had been crushed and now they were here; observing the soft meat prey as they wandered around, seemingly inebriated by C’ntlip.

“H’tch, I see no reason to heed the elders, these ooman scum hunted the hard meat and are now celebrating the victory. We should claim ultimate dishonor and claim their carcasses for the re-seeding.”

H’tch did not respond. He did not even glance at the posturing un-blooded warrior that was his kin and instead was obeying orders, as were at least twenty of his clan.

“The elders have spoken.”

“The oomans have hunted our prey. It is our right to wipe them as thieves from this planet.”

“That is not your decision nor mine. We will obey orders.”

H’tch turned away and concentrated on keeping the pack of oomans that had strutted down the lowered ramp of their craft and with much whooping and hollering had filed into the collection of ooman dwellings. His helmet was able to distinguish between the varying dins and every so often the Yautja did his version of a grin.

Civilisation.

~*~

The music was loud and filled with needless innuendo but it suited the environment. It contained phrases that she was not familiar with and storing this information away for later use simply followed after the ones she had been commanded to watch over. Only the little woman Vasquez chose to talk to her but after a while the almost toxic smelling ‘refreshments’ called to her before delicate palette and she started to seem bored with the clipped answers she received. Yes, the situation was acceptable. Yes, she would follow where they lead. No, she did not wish to consume something that smelled worse than Johner or as bad as the stink the metal chair that Vriess used to move.

The air was not…unpleasant but the settlement could do with letting fresh air into their receptors. Despite what the occupants of the Betty thought, she was not un-talkative; they just did not speak to her how Mother did. They did not sense rather than see the subtle nuances in their communication; how posture, scent determined how she and mother responded. Too human; she supposed. It would probably be a benefit to start to show Vasquez how to communicate fully – she was probably Chase’s favorite human, swiftly followed by uncle Vriess.

It would make things so much easier for them to know when she was happy or sad or needed attention. It didn’t help that sometimes she did not understand why they did things or what certain things meant. It was sometimes exhausting trying to keep up with the disorganised train of communication.

She looked sideways at Hudson who was now waving some kind of currency at some half naked human. Vasquez’s smile had her wondering, upon leaning closer to Vasquez she learned why after a giggly whisper. Choosing to not lean back and instead staring at the object that now had Vasquez and Hicks half rolling with hilarity in their seats. Chase took a quick sniff in the direction of the ‘female’ appearing human. She did not understand. Did Hudson not know that it was not strictly female? Did he prefer males to females or was he just too drunk to care?

A cool hand was suddenly on her shoulder, squinting at the cigarette smoke Hicks also leaned over and with a grin had explained that the old refuelling station had become home to an arcutrian clan. She did not know what an arcutrian was and shook it off as a varying type of human. Hicks meanwhile carried on with his explanation, probably because she was not moving away from his company. Some humans liked to pretend to be female, and some liked to pretend to be male. He said it was hit or miss sometimes which one you ended up with after a few bottles of shit.

Right there and then she swore she would never consume anything that contained alcohol – she preferred to know what was happening, the who, the what and the whys being much safer. Chase moved from left to right, using her body weight to move her chair back into a less well-lit area. The light did not bother her any, she just preferred having a vantage point if a re-enactment of Johner Vs The entire Universe happened which tended to happen a lot of the time his feet touched either earth or space station metal. It would not do to be disciplined by Mother in such a way again after the last time. Her neck ached in sympathy to her thoughts just thinking about it.
Mothers claws always seemed harsher than that of the breed.

“..Kid.. Hey Kid. Book, C’mon..”

Blinking, the one who was referred to as “Kid” realised that she was being left behind again. In a fluid motion she strode after them, wondering how much longer they would continue to bar hop and if they would be done with it soon. Time was a familiar concept and they had been at whatever this ritual was for more than six hours and she could see that some of the group were suffering from the amount of beers they had chosen to wallow in. They were talking again and she picked up meaningful titbits every so often; this time they were going to a see a fight. Johner then ranted that he was feeling lucky and that nothing short of ‘an army’ or ‘droids up the ass’ would be able to ‘fuck with his shit’.

Cocking her head Chase came to the conclusion that while Johner was big and had muscle in his current state he would not be good for a real fight. A couple of smacks, maybe more and he would be on his back with something broken. Her features tightened at that thought. No, they would not be broken. Her lips thinned into a foreboding line as they reached their destination. Screams, cries and raucous laughter assailed her eardrums and every so often there was strange noises, whirring sounds then followed by screams. Still, no matter what was in there. None of it would be given the chance to even contemplate attempting to break one of her humans.

“Vasquez. Johner is not suited to this act.”

When she did not receive an answer Chase was sorely tempted to grab Johner by the neck, immobilize him and take him back kicking and screaming to Ripley but part of her knew that she wouldn’t do it. She rather relished silence on occasion and was sure that while he would not be able to land a blow her eardrums would suffer from the prolonged yelling. With an uncharacteristic snort, eye roll and a sigh the kid kept her own council and simply stayed close on Hicks heels. Chase rolled her eyes again; Stupid Johner and his stupid ideas. She felt a beating coming on and this time no amount of her issuing repentant squeaks would save her ass from the mother. She just knew it.

Johner was already in line and banging his left heel in preparation and did not hear her comment. For this Chase was a little grateful – Johner had little patience sometimes and gone were the days where she had the ‘aww look, little baby..’ factor and of course sometimes he had no time for a “thing” and frequently taunted her on a verbal level if she got in his way when he was pissy. Many a time the android Call had called him off, either shutting air locked doors in his face or sending her away. Vasquez had also come to her defence yelling right back at the big lug to ‘go grab some Midol and go buy some tampons’. There was no Call, no air lock and no Mother to keep them apart now.

“He won’t last. No money.”

Vasquez took her time in answering. The kid was right but Johner was Johner.

“Yeah amiga, nothing or no one will tell him any different. You know that. Just do as I tell ya to, okay? Maybe put him in a triple tag or something and we can have some fun ourselves hey ‘miga?”

Chase did not nod in response as she normally did; instead her attention was caught by something by the perimeter. She had barely caught it but her gut…well something inside her told that there was something there. It had been brief. A small shimmer effect similar to heat waves and then as soon as she had zeroed it, it had gone. Cocking her head and squinting into the distance as she had seen the others do when trying to clock something until she and Vasquez were suddenly pushed in the throng of patrons scrabbling to find a seat.

The throng of people pushing and shoving separated her from her hive. Lost in the crowd Chase tried to nimbly dodge and duck here and there and make it back to where her companions were but instead she was seemingly herding herself further and further away. Unwilling and also unable to issue a challenge and make them back off she instead turned and moved with the crowd. Until she saw a few struts that held a huge set of lights obviously used for the security of the perimeter. Seeing a golden opportunity to (a) get out of the stampeding crowd and (b) zero in on her pack, dove at the nearest pole and fluidly wrapped her legs around the strut and with a graceful upwards roll dug her claws into the metal above her and with another flinging twist of her body landed on the security rim.

~*~

A series of faint electronic beeps preluded a faint crackle as H’tch raised his cloak. He sat on top of an ooman metallic structure and continued feeding the mother ship everything he saw. If he found Di’Sha’s impatience annoying he did not show it, he was a hunter, proven with numerous skulls under his belt to prove his prowess. He shared his sire’s interest in the massacre of the Chiva site – had oomans landed there and found the hard meat in residence and chosen to fight or did they simply make a habit of cleansing all worlds of the prey?

H’tch was at a stage in his life of being curious of all prey and not set on the numbers that he slew but the quality. A seemingly endless herd of oomans were either entering or leaving a caged structure some thirty steps from his position. It was as he were surveying the never-ending tide that H’tch picked out a small ooman seeming to bounce around in the masses. Similar to how a lion would choose a gazelle from its herd H’tch regarded it. It was definitely either a very young brand of ooman or it was a runt. But he could not deny its ease with circumnavigating its own kind, a hop here, a slide there and all done without being bumped into.

He raised an eyebrow and thrilled lowly in his throat when the ooman stopped and stared at the metallic structure he and his brother were currently camped on. A light crackle to the right of H’tch told him that Di’Sha had raised his cloak. Even through it was pitch night it would not serve them to be detected. A mandible twitched again this time followed by a ragged growl as the ooman with another display of flexibility was suddenly twined around one of the circular poles holding this portion of the structure alight and then was almost flying with a twisted buck digging its hands into the metal directly to the right of him!

A scant heartbeat later it had flung itself over the lip and landed in a crouch, surveying the multitude below it. Had the pathetic thing seen them? Staying perfectly still H’tch tapped a message to his brother commanding him to remain still while readying his right arms wrist blades to extend at a moments notice.

The ooman stayed stock still appearing to be a statue of the death god, Cetanu. H’tch regarded the ooman, aware that not only were the others of his clan seeing but his personal camera was also recording. Close up it appeared he was right. It was definitely the runt of the litter it came from. Instead of coils or dread locks it wore its hair loose like the majority of its kind, which spread out in the light breeze when it raised its arms above its head and started to arch in what was only a feminine act. An act that was as delightful on an alien female as much as it was on a Yautja.

Di’Sha made a small noise, a mix between an exclamation and a purr, which was silenced upon receiving a taloned blow on his thigh. The ooman female however had heard the small sound. Raising his eyes to the heavens at the stupidity of his youngest brother H’tch cursed him silently. The female had turned its head and despite the fact he knew that both of their cloaks were working perfectly, bending the light around them and gifting them with invisibility he wondered why he was receiving what appeared to be a level stare.

Warning flooded through him when the female leaned towards him and appeared to scent the air. Oomans did not have the capacity to do this, this he knew from extensive research over the past two cycles. But his visor was not lying, he watched as small nostrils extended and then deflated, heard the soft intake of breath from each movement. He felt Di’Sha become agitated behind him and if he could of he would of hissed another warning when the oomans gaze fell somewhere else and the silence was broken by other ooman voices, this time closer.

The stare he thought he was receiving did not move. It appeared that he was not the recipient, those who were doing their best impression of ‘patrolling’ the wall. Oomans had no idea how easy they were to attack or infiltrate. Their version of patrolling was that lax if he chose to hunt after those his sire wanted were captured, this lot would be an easy kill, he thought darkly. They had passed them about two or three times previously and were obviously drawn to the runty ooman female pivoting where she should not be.

Three oomans, obviously males stopped behind him and started to nudge and gesture each other with raucous calls to each other. If he could of he would of chuckled. ‘Piece of ass’ ‘Baby tah tahs’ and ‘Smokin!’ were words he was familiar with in a fashion. It was obvious that the small pack of males were pleased with the fact that the runty female had appeared.
Curious how the female did not answer what was obviously a mating call. Even a runt Yautja would be on its back and presenting within a heartbeat if a male so much as twitched a mandible in its direction.

The behaviour was strange. It was stranger that the males became more aggressive when the female began to slink backwards as if dismissing them. The timber of the voices became angry.

“..Look here ya little bitch.. we’re just tryin’ to be friendly.. right boys? You won’t like us when we ain’t be friendly so why don’t you come here and we’ll all be best friends.. huh?’

Would they attempt force to initiate mating? It would be a pleasure, the word stressed deep in his thoughts, to dispatch them if they sought to use force. His honor would not stand for a female of any race to be so dishonoured. He stood to his feet slowly and ignored the surprised hiss from his brother instead grinned at the sound of his wrist blades extending fully and it became apparent that the closest ooman male heard it also as he whirled in alarm but not before the leader was suddenly flung into his targets back.

The smaller of the trio were laying against the metal fence appearing for all intensive purposes dazed and confused. A strangled sound got his attention and he whirled round intent on dealing with the uppity dishonorable cur that was ‘leader’. H’tch stopped his advance and cocked his head looking at where the male was flung from, eyes widening slightly behind his protective visor.

The female had a hand round the remaining males neck.

The runty female had her hand wrapped round the male’s windpipe and appeared to be applying fierce pressure.

The weak, frail and runty female while throttling the male was also holding him a good six inches from the ground.

The female was in no hurry it seemed to claim life either. It stood there and calmly held, no longer bothering to apply pressure as it had stopped struggling. H’tch saw a piece of material flapping slightly in the small breeze and could of smiled – ah. So the male had touched the female without consent, ripping her garment and that was why she reacted. His communicator vibrated, alerting him that Di’Sha had signalled him. He answered the silent transmission from Di’Sha with simple words. ‘Stand Ready’. Not that he was worried in the slightest; this was obviously a fluke, a female albeit an appearingly frail one had simply gotten lucky.

Shame the male wouldn’t feel so lucky when he recovered, he thought as it was flung from the female’s person and landed in a heap. The other males departed to obviously lick their wounds from an unsuccessful assignation; he wondered how that felt, to be denied a female. It would be a blow to any male’s ego to be denied, especially by what appeared to be on the outside, a female of lower status and stature. If silence was not something that was required right here and now he would of bellowed in mirth.

Reaching up to stroke a small boned necklace he idly wondered what the ooman female would do now – it would not be safe for it to stay in this vicinity if the males decided to come back and bring more. Casually observing the specimen again, H’tch tapped the command to change the visor to infrared. The female suddenly became an index of green, red, pink and blue. In excellent health with no discernable genetic deficiencies.

Another masculine ooman voice broke his reverie and it also took the females attention. Casting a look at his feet he saw a large male attempting to steady himself against the metallic tubes.

“Hey Chasey Brat. You comin’ to watch uncle Johner stomp the shit outta some backwater motherfuckers? C’mon down. The guys are signing me up. Good times, man.”

Looking back at female that was addressed as ‘Chasey Brat’ H’tch wondered if the hulking ooman below him was its mate. If it was then no wonder it had been upset when propositioned by other males that by no means matched the stature of what it was used to. The female, instead of trilling or answering her mate started to stare in his direction again and again took a deep breath of the air. H’tch wondered if it could of scented the slightly aroused smell both he and his younger sibling had emitted earlier when it had stretched in that delightful fashion but did not have time to confirm if it had as the female hopped over the wall like a yabberwocky and slid down to the floor, landing on the back of the male waiting below.

H’tch and Di’Sha moved position after their strange meeting with an ooman. It appeared as if the structure all the oomans were entering into was a version of a Kv'var or Kehrite. It made perfect sense that the male that had claimed that spirited little female was competing in a match. There were multiple cages and arenas below them and it was seemingly impossible to distinguish the oomans if they chose to find that pair again. So instead they followed orders and waited. Another group was in charge of inspecting the ooman vessel and finding DNA to scan, which would lead them to the pack that they hunted. Settling on their new perch, the big males watched what oomans called ‘Cage fighting’ with mild interest.

It was a quarter of a cycle later when a data stream was sent to all the clan dispatched on the ooman planet. The DNA could not be matched as the ship was constantly under watchful eyes. Instead the elder had ordered the clans engineer to trace for matching iodes from the ships reactor from their own data. The message commanded all Yautja to upgrade their scanners, seek and capture and return to the rendezvous point.

It was with pleasure that when H’tch swept his scanner over the occupants of the dome below that seven oomans stood out, colored in a vibrant magenta color. It was with further pleasure when they returned to the outer rim when they began to leave the arena that when he switched back to normal viewing that the runt and her hulking mate were amongst the seven that were to be hunted. A slight movement by both had their helmets tune into the commotion that was now happening with the to be hunted group and another faction that had followed them.

H’tch watched, mildly amused as one of the oomans picked themselves up and ran at the one that had flung him. Oomans had no idea how to fight with honor. One move and he would of snapped that one’s neck but instead they stood there trading blows while others watched, pointing, rumbling noises in varying pitches accompanying shrieks and limbs flung in their direction.

“Johner, you son of a bitch..!”

“.. Get him man! Woo hoo.. That’s how the Bug Hunters throw down, baby! Yeah!”

“..Handle your business bitches. He will try busting your head if you stop him when he’s on a roll.”

Bug Hunters. H’tch clicked his mandibles thoughtfully. The fact that oomans considered themselves hunters was amusing; amusing enough to perk his interest. There had long ago been a ban on hunting oomans. Through not as tricky as the hard meat they were predicable enough to know that they would call for reinforcements or barricade themselves where the yautja weapons could not go, nor hunters bent on face to face combat.

H’tch again looked down at the group, watching with interest when the little female from before suddenly sauntered forward in a classic threat display. Give her a set of mandibles, dreadlocks and bigger anatomy and he’d of pressed a claim there and then.

Tapping at his wrist he activated his own personal Gkinmara and prepared to record the confrontation. He found it amusing that while Yautja females were larger the ooman variations were usually smaller. Di’Sha grunted, obviously enjoying the fight even through it was by their standards tame; similar to parading young sucklings.

“..There they are, Boss. They’re the cheating scum, Boss.”

Both Yautja took in the arrival of more oomans to the brawl. It seemed the newest arrivals had weapons with them. Di’Sha chuckled softly and elbowed H’tch.

“Finally. Oomans with backbone, I should walk in there and show them how to use them, my Elder?”

H’tch grunted and attempted to re scan the ragtag group that seemed intent on fighting in the open. The word “Kid” was not lost on him; it meant youngling in ooman tongue and he was surprised that ooman females let their young travel with elder clansmen. The oomans were some twenty strides from them now. It would be interesting to view this situation; was it an ooman trial or was the male attempting to impress the two females with him? It was also disconcerting that the one called “Kid” would periodically look in Di’Sha’s and his direction every so often. It had not alerted the others that they were there and he knew for damned sure that his cloaking device was not faulty – unlike his younger brother.

~*~

Chase halted as Vasquez again laid a hand on her shoulder. There were weapons now and Johner, while he was big would also be slow. It did not take an idiot to work out that while the big man was formidable, he was weaker when he was high on Rolling Rocks and whatever the madam at the strip club had given him. Chase was also edgy. Ever since the strange group of other humans followed them from the last bar under the pretence of to ‘settle the dispute like real men’ she had the feeling that they were being watched. Every so often the hairs on the back of her neck would prickle and the alien in her would have her look into the dusk, scanning the outer perimeter of the compound.

Instinct was screaming like it had earlier that something was there on the perimeter wall where she had been earlier. She did not see anything but there was that strange smell. Another scuffle, followed by a loud grunt from Johner had her attention again. The strangers now were all brandishing weapons; nothing to worry about. Clubs and metal poles but they could still damage and Johner was now sidling from side to side.

“There are six.”

Vasquez was half holding Hudson upright when the Kid made the statement and even through she was in agreement and if she didn’t have Hudson to hold up even she herself would risk Johner’s wrath to even the odds a little. None of them needed a feral Ripley ragging on them on their way to another site zero to nuke if the kid had so much as a scratch on her. She doubted that they could deal with Call when they had slept off tonight’s excitement either. Sighing she hefted Hudson a little more securely and nodding at Hicks nudged the kid in the side and nodded.

“Make it quick, kid. We don’t need no colony Rambo’s coming for our ass later.”

Chase leapt into action. Half flipping her way to the first assailant she heard Vasquez laugh as she reached out and span him like a bottle top on a table. A second later she slammed her fist into his midsection. A grunt followed by a rapid exhale of breath and a dull thud later, she was upon the second of her ‘victims’. Methodically, Chase hopped onto her left foot and struck out with her right. A scream later, followed by a foot to the jaw and the second victim was out for the count. By this time the remaining four had turned their backs to a swaying Johner and now faced her. Reminding herself that these were not drones and tended to break easier and that she was of course not to break them under any circumstances, merely stood, eyeing the brandished weapons.

“Well.. What have we here, boys? GI Jane? Baby… Honey.. Go back to the bar. Ain’t got no fight with you but this sack of shit here ripped me and my boys off, see? And I don’t take well to thieves in my bar.”

Chase noticed that the speaker was the leader and from the way he was speaking did not see her as a threat. She absently wondered if that should please her or annoy her. Passing that snippet of thought to be pondered over later and coming to the realisation that Mother would not want any of the group she was assigned to hurt or arrested by colony officials, crossed her arms similar to how Vasquez did when confronted with something that pissed her off.

“Leave.”

Her answer at first was laughter, which she ignored in favor of that prickling sensation again; casting a look over her shoulder at the perimeter fence again. She had felt it again, eyes. A scrape of shoe sole upon the dirt had her whirling and ducking like a dervish; a second later her face would have been full of metal pole that she was sure already had Johner’s name on it. She stayed where she was, instead eyeing the ragtag bunch of humans that obviously sought to break her like she would break a drone. As they circled her she already had a series of moves depending on what they did ready for use. Unlike them she was wiry, agile and while she did not appear to have much in way of muscle packed a worse punch than Johner. So much so she could bet herself that if she chose she could embed the last of the four in the metal without too much trouble.

“C’mon girlie, you better suited to indoor entertainment and because of this we don’t wanna hurtcha.. ain’t that right boys?”

The way the words were spoken were not familiar but the tone was – it was similar to how Hudson spoke to a ‘piece of prime ass’ when he was ‘sniffing the skirts’ and reminded her of her earlier activities when she had been semi attacked by other men. Snorting softly she ignored the comment and instead looked over her shoulder at the perimeter fence. The prickling sensation was still there but for the moment she would forget it. They would need a way out of here fast, noting that the fence was metal she came to the conclusion that she would bleed it out of the way if they got boxed in. Mouth set in a grim line she turned her attention back to the wannabe Johner breakers..

Time to play.

~*~

~ No flamers yet.. must be doing something right...~