A New Alliance

Manipulating the controls, Krang dropped to one quarter impulse, slowing the ship further as he approached the docking bay doors.  In a moment, the automated tractor beams would lock on and bring his little ship safely in to land. There was just the lightest of jolts as Endeavour took control of his vessel. As the tiny ship was brought into Endeavour’s largest shuttle bay, not only Speares and the Medics were present but also the Yautja and a contingent of security guards. In the light of earlier events, no-one was taking any chances.  The humans were tense with a combination of concern and anticipation. Only the Elder seemed to be relaxed as the ramp came down.

Night Dagger's hatch slid open and Krang stepped out.  It was the first time he had actually seen the Yautja and he eyed them with interest, noting from their size and physique as well as their bearing, that these were obviously warriors. He would be intrigued to speak with them at some point, but for now his concern was for his passenger.  He stepped off the bottom of the ramp and turned around, intending to assist his aide who was carefully supporting Kehlan as she walked with difficulty down the steep incline.

Growling under his breath with a sudden tension that had not been evident a moment ago, the Predator Elder took a step forward.  N'Sal's head snapped around. Somehow she managed to push Kehlan behind her as her vicious double bladed Reman knife came halfway out of its sheath in response to the perceived threat.

"Sal, no!"  Kehlan's voice was quiet but firm with just a hint of urgency.  "Put your knife away!"

The Romulan hesitated, not taking her eyes off the enormous being whose growling approach towards her friend seemed so hostile.

"Sal please!"  The urgency in Kehlan’s voice intensified, “Put it away!”  To draw a weapon on a Yautja was nothing short of suicide. Not that N’Sal knew that, nor would she care if she did.  The Romulan was just crazy enough to tackle anyone who threatened her friend, no matter what it ended up costing her and Kehlan did not want to see her friend dead.

"I won't let him hurt you....." N’Sal hissed protectively.  Kehlan might be a Klingon warrior and under normal circumstances more than capable of taking care of herself but she was injured and for now at least, unable to fight to her full potential.

Kehlan reached up and brushed back her hair, for the first time revealing the clan mark the young Yautja warrior had carved into her cheek, the same marking she could see engraved into the masks of all three of the ambassadorial party. "He won't hurt me.  None of them will." 

Sal frowned, not understanding. Nevertheless, respecting her friend’s choice she reluctantly let the knife slip back into its sheath and moved aside.  Even so, she remained vigilant, ready to act if the huge Predator that approached was not as friendly as Kehlan seemed to think he would be.  In her peripheral vision she could just see the Klingon security captain, his hand resting lightly on his own knife, ready to intervene should it prove necessary.

Stepping past her friend, Kehlan came face to face with the Elder. The old Predator stared impassively at the half Klingon female – tired, dirty and obviously injured, taking in the Yautja symbol engraved on her cheek, the emblem of his own clan.  Livid and unhealed the mark proclaimed that prey or not, this one had been judged worthy and was entitled to the friendship and protection of the Yautja race.

 

Slowly, he reached up and with nimble claws, he clicked open the fastenings that held his mask in place.  There was a faint hiss of escaping air as he removed the mask and hung it from his belt. For the first time, his facial features were exposed to the beings he had come to negotiate with.

 

Like Kehlan, several members of the command crew, including Colonel Speares, had watched the old movies, purely in the name of research of course, and the appearance of the Predators was not a complete surprise.  It was fairly obvious, Speares thought, that the old film makers had known what a Yautja looked like, although how that was possible, he didn’t know.  He could only assume that if the Yautja truly had hunted on Earth in the past, that somewhere… somehow… some government agency had known of their existence and had covered it up.  Releasing the information in the form of a fictional movie would be a very effective way of creating plausible deniability.  The Welshman shrugged.  He’d always been interested in conspiracy theories and there were plenty of them from that time period.  For now however, he was just glad to see his captain alive.

 

Undoubtedly, by Terran standards, the Yautja Elder was incredibly ugly.  The watching Starfleet officers however, even those who had either not bothered or had not had the time to watch the movies, had  long since become accustomed to working with various alien races, some of whom strongly resembled humans and some who did not – Tellarites, Horta, even Naausicans.  Unlike the humans of the 20^th century who had no experience of extra terrestrial life other than the fiction they saw on their screens, they saw no horror in the Elder’s appearance although it was undoubtedly different to anything they had seen before.

 

Kehlan stared incredulously at the old Predator, her gaze fixing on the clan markings etched into his high forehead, markings that echoed the newly made scars on her own face.  She saw also three parallel lines running in a diagonal across his face, the scars old and faded, remnants of a long ago battle that had almost cost the Predator his sight.

 

“George?”

 

The Elder inclined his head, his mandibles flaring in what she had come to recognise as a smile. “Geo’rrrge”

 

Unheeding of any possible danger to herself, Kehlan crossed the deck in a few short steps, and to the complete astonishment of all watching, she threw her arms around his waist.  He was tall… taller even than she remembered and his waist was the highest part of him she could reach to hug.  Obviously he had reached his full growth in the years since she had seen him last.  It was an odd feeling.  For her it had been only minutes. For him though, many years had gone by and the teenaged hunter she remembered had aged and matured.  He was an Elder now, the leader of his clan and the ambassador she had come here to negotiate with. Whether that last was a good thing remained to be seen.  For now she was just glad to see him alive.

 

Both Kihr’yende and Da’rian snarled and moved forwards, intending to forcibly drag the halfbreed female away from their Elder, not comprehending how it was that the missing captain had come to be marked with the symbol of their own clan.  Honoured or not, no member of a prey species should touch their Elder in such a way, the insult was not to be tolerated!

 

With a trill of laughter, the Elder named George waved back the two younger Predators before picking up the old friend, that after such a long, long time, he had never thought to see again, and lifting her to eye level.  “Kay-lan!”  He released his grip on her and she landed back on the deck with a thump, losing her balance and staggering. She would have fallen but for the large arm that George, belatedly remembering her injuries, put out to steady her.  He turned to his escort and seeing their confusion and anger, spoke in his own language, “Kihr’yende my son. This is your sister”