The Ghost and The Darkness

by godofMYw0rld

13 years after the events of Avatar, a host of new threats make their way to Pandora. A ghost from the stars stumbles upon the incredible world of the Na'vi, while the sky people plot their return and total domination over the land beneath the forest. - Rated M for later chapters may contain graphic depictions of brutal violence and extremely explicit inter-species relations

1. Chapter 1

A/N: Finally, this is my long awaited (only by me) Aliens/PredatorXAvatar crossover. Some of you may notice a few other fandom references, but these are purely cameos. This story is a Predator lover's fanfic without a doubt, and as the summary states, may contain some literal Predator 'loving' in later chapters. This first chapter is relatively 'clean' except for a few choice words, but will be rated MA for safety. Please review and let me know what you think, even ideas on where to take the story are welcome and appreciated, but may be completely ignored =) just sayin'.

Am I allowed to put this in the Aliens/Predator category even though it's a crossover? Nobody seems to browse the crossovers much, and this story is aimed 100% towards the AvP fandom so I've moved it to here to get more exposure.

---

Black fire spread across all of Pandora, destroying everything she knew, everything she loved. The land, the forest, the people… the fire took them all.

From some high ground, somewhere to the east, she thought, Neytiri could see far across the land of the Omaticaya. Farther, she believed, than she had ever flown on the back of her Ikran.

A view that would have been so beautiful… but the fire…black as night, shining like water, as if it were some twisting, writhing obsidian glass.

Glass, in the shape of flames, ever changing.

Like no fire she had ever seen… even when the sky people had destroyed her home, so long ago. When the forest had burned, the trees burst, and the air itself turned to fire…even that could not have led her to imagine this new horror.

The black fire didn't so much burn, as it seemed to consume. It fed, off the life of the forest, spreading as if driven by some otherworldly hunger.

As the flames drew closer, curling black tendrils, reaching out for her, seeking every last drop of blood to fuel the darkness, she couldn't move an inch. She could feel only hopelessness; but it wasn't running that she wanted to do. There was nowhere to run, and without her home, her people… there was no life to live anyway. No it wasn't running she willed her body to do, all she wanted to do was scream, cry, to curse the fire or call out to the sky and the earth to ask Eywa why this was happening.

But she couldn't move a muscle. And there was nothing but despair…

But then there was a voice. Just barely a whisper, so quiet. But sounded, or felt, as if it came from just behind her ear…

"Turn around" the voice murmured,

And suddenly she could move. Slowly at first, she tried to spin her head, to turn and look for the source of this voice. For some reason she felt, she knew, that this voice was her only chance of saving her home. All hope had been lost until that whisper, those strangely familiar words, and now she knew she had to follow it.

"Turn around" it insisted again, more forcefully. Louder, inside her head this time…

As if her bonds loosened the more she moved, her muscles became strong again, and she spun on one foot, ready to run, or leap towards that voice. But her balance was still wrong. When she stopped it felt as though she had to stop the ground itself from moving beneath her, as well as her own body. She stumbled, fell to one knee with her hands on the ground in front of her, and then looked up.

Before her was the mouth of a cave. A long, wide crack in the earth, as if a single piece of rock had been broken apart and lifted up over the ground, leaving just a sliver of a doorway to the underworld. A fine mist surrounded the rock, and filled the clearing before her, and sunlight streamed through canopy, giving the thin black mouth before her a toothy smile of yellow sun and misty shadow. She listened intently, bowing her head forward, casting her eyes to the ground, as if seeing less would let her hear more. Neytiri's blue, spear-like ears twitched and turned, and she involuntarily stretched them outwards, each ear unfolding like the petals of a flower, so desperate to find that voice, that whisper that she knew she must answer, if she had any hope of saving her people, her family, and perhaps her whole world.

And then she heard it, the same voice but so faint now, it came from within the cave, behind the curtain of mist and sunlight, where only blackness could be seen…

"Over here…"

She hesitated, wary of the darkness, but this darkness before her was not as the darkness behind her. The black of the cave was natural, and real, the kind of darkness that should be expected in a cave. And so she stepped forward, one step, and then another, one foot at a time, feeling as though she had to learn to walk all over again. Everything felt abnormally real, the ground felt so cool and so good she almost didn't want to move her feet. Every sensation was new, and incredible. The dirt, the air, the sunlight, and the mist, all felt like part of her, like she willed each one to caress her skin just as she wanted.

And then, the cave swallowed her. She felt as though she hadn't moved more than a few feet, but without warning she was covered in darkness, the mouth of the cave was now nothing but a bright silver crack, far above and behind her.

For a few moments, there was nothing but darkness. Neytiri lifted her hands, to reach for something, the wall of the cave, anything to tell her where she was. Her hands touched frigid, wet stone, and her eyes adjusted to see the rippled brown and gray wall before her. It was smooth like river stones, and clearly grained in one direction, down and inward, as if torrents of water had once poured through the mouth of the cave in such quantity that it was filled to the ceiling. All she could do was walk down the wall of the cave, guiding herself along the carved lines of the now dead underground river.

After only a few steps, her hand slid over a small carving in the rock, and almost on cue, a dim light shone on the wall in front of her. The cave around her lit up, and she stepped back in awe at the wall of rock she could now see in its entirety. The light that illuminated the wall was the glow of an orange flame, dancing shadows over the shining wet rock, but when Neytiri turned around to look, she could see no source of the light. Though she was clearly not meant to see the fire itself, but rather what it showed her on the cave wall…

Carved into the rock, from as high as her hand could reach, to just below her waist, were six rows of text, each with two lines of distinctly different writing. The second of which appeared to be an ancient Omaticaya text that Neytiri could vaguely understand. The first line of each row was in writing she had never seen before, not entirely different in appearance to her own people's language, but none of the symbols were any she recognized. She brought her hand up the wall, slowly, to the first line, and traced each with her fingers until she had memorized all that she could read from the wall. From what Neytiri could understand of the ancient writing, it told of a prophecy. A prophecy of the coming of evil… There were parts she could not decipher, but the message was clear.

The stone read;

When the forest is old, evil will come

Someone (Neytiri didn't know these words) will bring 'The Darkness', a threat to all Eywa

A great spirit will come to fight The Darkness

The last three lines, Neytiri could not make out, except that it said more about the Darkness, this spirit, and that the people must seek his help.

She stumbled back, trying to make sense of it all.

The darkness… evil… the fire!

The black fire must be this darkness that the prophecy warned of.

But then how could she stop it? She wondered. Where was this "great spirit" while her home burned?

Panic and fear again set in, and Neytiri looked frantically for the light of the cave entrance. She had to do something, she had to find this spirit, had to stop the fire… but there was only darkness again. The light that showed her the wall was gone, and the silver crack of sunlight was nowhere to be seen.

Her heart raced, and her breath caught short. She scrambled for the wall, anything to hang on to, but her hands found nothing and she fell to the cold stone floor. Neytiri tried to call out, for the one person she needed now more than ever…

Jake, she thought…she tried to scream for him, but no sound escaped her lips.

Please…

Then, like ice in her veins,

Like a poison arrow through her heart,

She felt it, as much as heard it… a long, low hiss, just inches behind her neck. It was terror like she had never felt. Cold, damp breath brushed across her skin, just before she was seized, by a vice-like grip, and dragged helplessly down into the black abyss of the cave.

When she tried to scream, instead pain filled her throat. Her chest burned in agony, as though the black fire had found her after all, and was consuming her from the inside out.

She clutched at her chest, as she slid further into the blackness, and tried to scream one last time…

She awoke like that, gasping for breath and clutching at the phantom pain beneath her breast. She sat up in her hammock, and it took her several moments before she realized where she was.

Alive, and home…

It had all been her latest dream of course, but to say "just" a dream gave her no peace. They had gotten worse recently, but none like this. None so real.

She looked beside herself and found Jake, sleeping so peacefully. She wiped tears from her eyes and blessed him, for being real, then cursed him for being asleep.

---

When Jake Sully awoke, rubbing his eyes wearily and stretching awkwardly in the hammock, he looked to his side to find Neytiri gone.

Probably gone hunting early again, he thought.

He was surprised she hadn't woken him. If it wasn't her, there was usually someone requiring his chiefly duties. A dispute over mushrooms, an argument about trees, hunters unhappy with how the meat was being divided…

Always a busy day for the Olo'eyktan…

For the past 13 years Jake had, with Neytiri's help, worked day after day to prove himself to his new people. Most still considered him a hero, and were proud to have him lead their tribe, but there were still those that doubted him, or outright despised him for what he once was. He made no effort to hide that he was once a "Dreamwalker" and came with the sky people. He often told stories about Earth, humans, and his life before. He hoped to educate the Na'vi, and to help them understand that not all "sky people" were evil. He tried to teach them that his people were not so different from the Na'vi, and that someday the humans might return. He insisted it was up to the Omaticaya to know forgiveness, and strive for peace if the sky people returned.

Despite his hopes for peace, however, he also knew well that if the humans did return, peace was unlikely. Jake knew that the only reason humans would come back to Pandora, was for the minerals. And there would be no compromise next time, he imagined. No, next time they would come and destroy anything that got in the way of their greed. The RDA, collectively, was no saint obviously, but the fact that they had even attempted peaceful relationships with the indigenous life painted them as one of the more forgiving human organizations. Jake knew full well of plenty of other corporations that would have not even considered negotiating with the Na'vi. If humans came back, it was not going to be intrigued biologists and diplomatic miners this time.

For the first several years, Jake had tirelessly obsessed over what he would do when his people from Earth returned. He lost count of how many speeches he had given the clan, trying to teach them about humans, and prepare for their eventual return. When six years had passed, and no ships came from the sky, a glimmer of hope ignited for Jake, that maybe the story of what happened to the RDA struck a chord with the people of Earth, and they deemed Pandora not worth the trouble.

But another side of him thought it more likely that they were instead preparing, gathering and building a larger force, to come and reap the lands of Pandora for all their worth, and quite possibly wipe out his people. He had lay awake countless nights fearing what they would do if the humans returned in force. How could they stop them a second time? He shuddered to think of it, and all this time did his best to put it out of his mind, and keep his people at ease. He told them that if the sky people tried to destroy their homes again, they would fight, and they would win just like before. But his words only served to reassure the people, not his own doubts.

Despite his ever present burdens, the past twelve years had been the happiest time of Jake Sully's life. His new body had not even begun to age, as he soon found out that his people had longevity far beyond humans. Two-hundred years was about the equivalent of a human living 100 years. And on top of that, time seemed to move so slowly here. Jake cherished it, living these past dozen years of his life more freely and happily than he could have imagined.

It truly was paradise.

Lately though, his worry had grown, as did the trouble within the tribe. There was a growing dissent, mostly among old traditionalists, and some young males who didn't like being told what to do by a "pretender" as they called him. For many years this group was harmless and mostly stagnant, but recently it had begun to grow, as did the tribe itself. After the attack on Hometree and the battle with the sky people, their population had shrunk considerably. But now, numbers were growing rapidly. Many new children of course, but also dozens of migrants from the nearby clans, who sought to return to their ancestral homelands in the jungles, where the Na'vi were born. These newcomers were often treated with more suspicion and distrust than even he was at first, but the more his tribe grew, the more he had to deal with questions of his loyalty, intentions, and right to lead. Had it not been for Neytiri, he may have lost the people's trust long ago. She was his saving grace, and his guardian angel, no one could questions her loyalty or heritage. And so as the tribe grew, and the village with it, so did their responsibilities as Olo'eyktan and T'sahik.

The new village was not a single hometree as before, but three large trees in a small triangle, with many bridges on every level, both made from the tribe stringing vines and leaves together, and from long branches naturally intertwining. The people had chosen the spot, after only a short but unpleasant couple of weeks roaming through the forest, largely because of its location deep in the jungle, much farther from the RDA's abandoned mining quarry and the fallen hometree. Though more dangerous, with larger and more densely populated wildlife this far into the forest, Jake and his people felt it safer than staying near were the humans were likely to go.

The largest of the three trees grew at the base of a sharp cliff, atop which, a wide river poured gracefully over the side creating a picturesque waterfall as the source of the river that their village grew on the banks of. The highest branches of the tree in fact surpassed the cliff, hanging far out over the top of the plateau only a few meters from the ground, giving the people an easy route to the high ground.

As Jake climbed down from his hammock, high in the hollowed out trunk of the tallest tree, stepping down onto the solid wooden floor of the carved out inlet that he and Neytiri had made their home, he clumsily wobbled a bit, looking out the opening to make sure no one had seen him. Were his balance and reflexes getting soft, he wondered? Maybe he should go hunting, or go free running through the forest… god it had been too long since they had just ran through the forest, jumping and swinging from tree to tree like they had so often before he was chief. Partly because he was hungry, and partly to prove to himself that his reflexes were still somewhat sharp, he snatched a tasty little grub off the wall before it scurried into a hole in the trunk, and quickly crunched it up in his teeth before swallowing it. He had gotten used to eating the little buggers, sure, but he still didn't like having them alive in his mouth for too long.

A little more awake now, he hopped vigorously, trying to work a little more exercise into his daily life (and looking like a fool in the process), over to a bowl of vibrant berries left sitting in a carved out shelf. Once again peeking over his shoulder to see if anyone was outside his room, he began popping the little fruits into his mouth two at a time, happily 'mmming' and 'ooing' with tasty delight as his cheeks became full faster than his mouth could swallow.

Delicious! He thought, now fully distracted by his morning feast.

They are a bit soft, probably from yesterday… I should probably eat them all or they'll go bad, he justified to himself, and picked up the bowl as well as his munching.

He turned around with a fistful of berries just inches from his anything but empty mouth, looking up just in time to see the narrowed eyes and scolding look of his wife.

"Like a child" she said with a huff, repeating her ever-favorite remark since that first night she found him in the jungle, waving fire around like some sort of… well, child.

Jake straightened up, staring at her with wide eyes of guilty innocence, with blue and red droplets squeezing out the edges of his lips, while he tried to swallow what was quickly becoming wildberry juice in his mouth.

Despite her mood that morning, and the dread that had filled her for weeks, the sight of him forced a wide smile onto her face, and in moments she simply couldn't help from laughing aloud.

Jake finally managed to speak, with a mouth still half-full of berries, as he set the bowl down and wiped the corners of his mouth with a rag.

"I miffed mu mis morning" he grinned blue teeth that matched his Na'vi skin and swallowed the last of his breakfast. "Where did you go so early?"

Neytiri's joy faded as she sat wearily down on a log that lay along the edge of their room, and her mind went back to her dreams, namely the one that woke her this morning.

"Jake… I…" she looked up at him with more somber eyes, and he immediately saw her distress. He quickly wiped away the last of his foolish berry breakfast, and strode the length of the room to sit beside her and take her body in his arms.

"The dreams again?" He asked, pulling her close to him, usually so strong, stronger than him in fact, he felt her shaking so slightly this morning, and knew something was wrong.

"Neytiri, they're just…"

"No!" She cut him off, pushing him away and standing up. "No this time was different…" The tone of her voice conveyed to him just how unsettled she really was about this. It was all he could do to just look at her, wishing he knew what to say.

"This time I saw… things. I was there. It was so real…" she insisted frantically. "It was a warning Jake…" she paused, glancing at him, making no effort to hide the tears welling in her eyes, "Something is coming Jake.

He didn't want to ask 'what', for he knew the answer. Humans. He had felt this feeling of foreboding lately as well, and so he trusted his wife's dreams were more than just nightmares. She was closer to Eywa than anyone he knew, and if there's one thing he learned it was that the spiritual energy of this place was very real, and very much alive.

"There was a cave, words carved in stone, ancient words of the people… that is where I must go; I must go find it Jake…"

"Woa hey, slow down." He jumped to his feet and took her hands in his. "Go? Where? You can't leave me." he begged rather than demanded, for he learned long ago that making demands of his wife was a futile effort.

"I must Jake. I saw a cave, in my dream… that's where I went this morning, to the highest branches to see where it could be. I believe it's… in the mountains, far to the north of the deep forest." She cast her eyes up at him with a pleading look, asking him to understand why she had to go.

"Neytiri, the mountains? Do you know how far… days, a week or more in one direction…" He squeezed her fingers tight, while his mind tried to invent something that would convince her not to go, but he knew in his heart already that there was no stopping her. He saw it in her eyes.

"I was born here, I know how far. You do not tell me…" she said rather harshly, and her words stung him, reminding him that no matter how long he lived here, he will have always come from another world.

She felt bad immediately, her eyes softening and her lips parting in sad regret.

"I am sorry Jake" she went back to him and pulled his arms around her waist, "but I must go."

Jake held her and pulled her head against his shoulder with his hand on her hair. He smelled the scent of flowers and the sweet fruits she loved so much, and the thought of her leaving even for just a few days, reminded him that he didn't often enough take the time to really appreciate her.

"What I would do without you…" he whispered and pulled her even closer, and she didn't resist. If she could, she would never leave his side. But she knew this was something she had to do.

Jake stepped back and looked into her eyes with as much understanding as he could. He wished he could go with her, but he knew better. For both of the clan leaders to simply trek off into the forest on the whim of a dream… the people would be outraged. And most of all, they couldn't both leave their daughter.

"When are you leaving?" Jake asked, "I'll go find Yan'ey and tell him to prepare three of his best hunters to leave with you." He began rummaging around through their things, babbling on about safety and preparations, and how long did she expect to be gone.

"You'll need food, of course… and warmer clothes, it must get colder in mountains at night..."

"Jake…" Neytiri softly tried to interject, slinging the small pack she had already prepared that morning over her shoulder.

"Maybe five hunters, instead of three…" He continued, "To carry a tent, and more supplies, and…"

"Jake," she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, "no hunters Jake, I must go alone."

"Alone? Neytiri…"

"Don't… argue Jake, this is something the Tsahìk must do alone." She insisted, leaving no room for debate. "And if it is dangerous, I would not have any others of the clan hurt, following me after some dream." Neytiri made her point clear, and there was nothing he was going to say or do, save from tying her to the hometree, to stop her from going alone.

"Now…" she continued, securing her pack and picking up one of the ripened purple fruits next to the now nearly empty berry bowl, "where is Niyani? I have to say goodbye to our daughter before I go." She smiled and Jake tried his best to follow suit, managing a sad smirk.

"She must be with the other children, probably swimming in the river again", he mused, the thought of their 11 year old, little blue flower allowing a true smile to light his face. "Come on, let's go down and find her." He strapped on his clothes, if you could call the Na'vi garments that, pushed his spear through the curtain of vines that covered the opening to their room, pulled them to the side and let his wife step through. With a look out into the center of the tree, seeing his wife distracted, he hastily grabbed one last berry from the bowl and quickly stuffed it in his mouth before she saw…

Oh hell, he thought, and scooped all the rest out, squeezing them into his cheeks before leaping off the ledge in front of their room, into the thick, elastic ladder of vines that grew up the center of the hollowed tree trunk.

Neytiri was the one able to truly smile now, before she jumped after him with leather pack and bow strapped around her.

Her Jake… like a child, she thought again.

---

With a blinding, silent flash, the dark metallic bulk of a Yautja clanship materialized in orbit over an unnamed world. Though a tiny, insignificant speck of iron dust to the cosmos, to anything with eyes and a brain the vessel was a massive piece of unrivaled engineering. Moments after appearing, the great clanship initiated its full spectrum cloaking abilities, rendering it invisible and silent as it began to dive down into the thick clouds and swirling green atmosphere of the nearby planetoid. For its size, the enormous vessel made impressive time, sinking below the thick layer of obscuring stratosphere and making a steady heading over the terrain, only miles from the rocky surface littered with bubbling green ponds and lakes of alien primordial stew.

After only a short flight over this world's ranges, valleys, and young impact craters, the clanship approached the terminus of its flight. Its destination, settled in the center of a massive crater, was the effective homeworld of the race known across the galaxy by so many as "The Hunters".

Aptly named the "Ark", this gargantuan structure was the main hub, the mobile homeworld, of the Yautja. More than just a ship, it flew from system to system, able to land anywhere or remain in orbit, and supplied the dry-dock ports for the thirteen major clan's ships, on its thirteen arms, extending from the central core like gold and cobalt spokes of some heavenly wheel. The Ark was the crown jewel of the Yautja race, serving as both their nomadic homeworld and the staple of their dominance in the galaxy. Its offensive capabilities were more than formidable, yet its real strength was in its versatility. If the Yautja ever did encounter a race they could not defeat in open combat (which they had yet do to), they could hide their entire civilization behind a cloak not too dissimilar from the ones each hunter wore himself. Better yet, the Ark could pick up and leave, finding a new planet to land upon, or even drift aimlessly in the void, where there was little to no hope of ever finding it without knowing the signal to look for.

The Yautja were by no means the only race to inhabit the great city, just its builders (or so it was believed) and it's keepers. The hunters had long ago enslaved, or perhaps merely employed, a squat but versatile race they called the "Grunts". The Grunts were the hunter's workers, ever present but hardly noticed, maintaining and repairing the Ark and many of their larger ships. Grunts never spoke, in any language anyone else could understand at least, whether they could not or chose not to was a mystery. They simply and, apparently happily, went about their business doing the bidding of the Yautja, seemingly coming from nowhere, being everywhere, yet never getting in anyone's way.

At any given time, there were also a variety of different intelligent species on the Ark. The Yautja were not entirely ignorant to the idea of diplomacy and often had various agreements and relationships with some of the other intelligent races of the galaxy. The Ark, though mobile, was an active trade hub among the few species that were considered advanced and honorable enough to interact with the hunters in any other way than being prey. The city often served as neutral ground for diplomatic meetings and negotiations between other races, as everyone knew that the Yautja were not to be crossed, and equally as honorable as they were fierce. If the hunters gave their word that they would remain neutral, so it would be.

For countless millennia the Yautja had been the galaxy's most renowned spacefaring warlords. They traveled the stars in search of the next great challenge, the fiercest warriors or the most elusive prey. To many primitive sentient species, they were seen as gods, not unlike most alien visitors. Often times they were the bringers of language, technology, and culture to otherwise paleolithic species, including the humans of earth.

The Yautja, however, were even treated as gods by advanced races, capable of comprehending what they truly were. When the Yautja came upon a race advanced enough to detect them, or if they chose to reveal themselves, they came as conquerors and lords of the hunt. Planets learned to welcome them, worship them, and offer their greatest warriors or most valuable resources, in exchange for a relatively civil relationship with the clans that came seeking trophies. The Yautja's technology was unrivaled, but even when a species did develop something new and powerful, it was quickly taken by the Yautja so that few races dare to challenge their superiority.

Though powerful, the Yautja were few in numbers. Their power came from their technology, and their prowess in battle. Their entire population didn't exceed a few hundred thousand, as they reproduced only by choice and by purpose. They also lived for unnaturally extended periods of time. Aided by their technology, most of which they must have found or stolen, they truly took on the persona of the sky gods they claimed to be. A natural lifespan for a Yautja would be in the hundreds of years, but by utilizing genetic perfection and advanced rejuvenation, they would keep themselves alive for thousands upon thousands of years, the richest and most powerful able to do this the longest.

This made for nearly undying bloodlines and ancient traditions. The "First Five", the oldest and most powerful of the 13 clans, had existed for longer than anyone knew, except perhaps the Ancients, a council of 5 elders that lived in secret on the true Yautja homeworld, a secret kept hidden to all except the high elder of each clan. These Ancients preserved and ruled over a primitive clan of still tribal Yautja on the Planet of Origin, in case disaster should befall the Ark and the 13 clans. The Five were considered the noblest of clans, a type of royalty, though this was mostly a proliferation by the Five themselves, as even the lowliest of clans were unlikely to give royal treatment to members of the Five, except perhaps elders.

As the ship of the Nak'te Da'dto (Stone Knife) clan, one of the First Five, slowed and began its final approach to the Ark, the Young Legend T'savo stirred awake on his bed of rough furs and leather hides. Shaking his head groggily and sitting up quickly, the young hunter sat for a few still moments with his head between his knees, flexing his mandibles and breathing deep after the long sleep he had taken for the trip to the homeworld. His shoulder length dreadlocks hung in front of his face, gold and platinum rings clacking together as they swung. As he stood, he stretched his arms and legs out slowly, flexing the tired muscles, and savoring the hot pain of the soreness from his recent hunts. God how he loved that feeling of his muscles stretching out after the utmost exertion. He was never the tallest, though taller than most, nor the strongest. He took after his bloodline, tall and lean, with muscle hard as rocks, cut to perfection by years of training and constant vigilance, except today of course. On any other day he would have jumped down onto the floor and did as many push-ups as he could manage, then proceed to jump up to grab the handles on the ceiling and do an equal number of pull-ups… but not today. Today he would relish in the relaxation of returning to the homeworld.

He wouldn't, however, be able to relax the whole time, he remembered. He had it on good authority that shortly after their arrival, he would be summoned before the Elder Council to discuss what he had done not 6 moons ago… the very same incident that had earned him the nickname T'savo. An appropriate title, after all, the word t'savo means slaughter, in his people's language.

What would the old bastards have to say about that, he wondered as he stood up and crossed his quarters to the sink and splashed lukewarm water on his face, then cupped his clawed hands and gulped more down, tilting his head back and stretching his mandibles out wide, growling with contentment. He reached beside the sink to the food storage unit in the wall, and opened it to find nothing but dried, seasoned meat… his favorite! He snatched two strips of the shriveled, blackened stuff, and shredded it quickly with his inner teeth, swallowing it a bit too hastily, he thought.

He then sauntered lazily over to his armor case, opening it with a swipe of his hand and punching on the info screen beside it. The screen came to life, displaying the time and the clan reports, which just so happened to state that they were only minutes from the Ark, and all clan members were required to present in the embarkation room to march into the city upon arrival.

"Hmmpf, fuck the city." He growled to himself, reaching into the case and strapping on each piece of armor with practiced precision. His armor was new, yet littered with scratches, burns, and more than a few cracks. Perhaps a few repairs were in order, he thought, as he strapped on his shoulder guards, following his half chest-plate, and then bending down to secure his greaves. He snapped on his wrist gauntlets last, their perfectly fitting machinery adhering to his flesh as if they became part of him. He powered on his armor and tested it briefly, then picked up his most prized possession, his mask, and clipped it to his belt. Lastly, a step he normally would have skipped, he pulled out the floor-length black cape from the back of the case and swung it around his shoulders, securing it with the gold chain in front.

"Fucking formalities…" he complained to no one in particular, his mood this morning was certainly not cheery. For some reason the elders felt like forcing the entire clan to wear full ceremonial dress armor upon arrival to the city. It's not as if any of the other clans would be waiting outside the ship, to watch the Stone Knife clan parade down the branch to the Citadel, yet it was apparently necessary to put on a show today. The elders probably aimed to create attention for the clan, with news of their recent destruction of several hard meat hives, including the skulls of two of their queens, now adorning the clan's trophy room.

One day, he thought, a queen's head will hang on my wall. There were few other trophies as impressive as the hard meat queen. Glory, and countless females, were assured to any hunter who could singularly fell one of the black, crested beasts. A rare occurrence no doubt.

Before exiting his quarters, T'savo stopped in front of his most recent trophy, admiring it for a moment, and recalling the battle which won him this particular prize. While his brothers were underground slaughtering the endless flow of the black bugs, he had decided to seek his own quarry, above ground in the rocky but vegetated landscape of that last world.

He came upon the brutish, ogre-like creature in a wide clearing, tearing trees out of the ground to munch on their roots. Despite its choice of food, the beast was clearly anything but weak. It's head, twice the size of his own, had a jaw that looked capable of swallowing a Yautja whole, and its build was truly impressive. The troll, has he dubbed it, was nearly twice his height and most likely five times his weight or more. He remembered thinking to himself that it was truly a worthy opponent, but the thing was so distracted by its vegetarian lunch that it had not noticed the silent hunter moving slowly closer behind it. With a smirk behind his mask, he decided to have a little fun, charging his plasma caster to near its lowest setting, and sending a small bolt of the stuff into the creatures burly hind quarters, just enough to burn it and sufficiently send it into a rage. His plan no doubt worked, and the troll roared in primal anger as it turned to look for its aggressor.

The young legend they were now calling T'savo, made no attempt to hide, but uncloaked and faced his foe, lowering himself into a ready stance, and grabbing the spear off his back. The beast charged immediately, not bothering or seeming to initiate any kind of intimidation ritual like many creatures, and the hunter waited…Moments before the charging behemoth smashed into him, he leapt high into the air, meters above the monster's head. Extending his spear during his ascent, he twisted his body in mid-air and looked down at the back of the beast, which had only just barely begun to register that its target had disappeared. With one powerful downward swing, he hurled his spear straight down into the troll's thick head, then smashed into the ground in a three-point stance a few meters from the howling creature. Blood poured from the brute's wound, and it thrashed and stumbled wildly, clearly already dying from the blow. He watched quietly, and as the creature's swings slowed and it turned to face him, he launched himself at the beast's front and leapt once more, straight into its drooling face. He snapped out his wrist blades just before he grasped onto the troll's hide with his left hand, feet digging into its chest, and thrust the ornate twin blades under its chin, through the beast's neck, toppling it backwards as he glared down into its dying eyes through his mask's optics. He soon found that severing the troll's head and cleaning the skull proved a much more difficult task than killing the beast itself.

A fight he would not soon forget, he thought, tracing the empty eye sockets of its now polished and pristine skull. Over too soon, but invigorating nonetheless.

With his reminiscing through, he punched the control to his door and stepped out into the hall, which bustled with clan brothers making their way to the embarkation room.

"Kal'ak! My brother, you know I've been waiting here so long I feared Centanu would come before you did."

Kal'ak turned to find Ma'koh leaning against the wall beside his door. Ma'koh was his best friend and one of the only other Yautja whose company he enjoyed. Sometimes.

"Don't call me that." Kal'ak growled at his friend curtly, as they began to walk side-by-side down the hall towards the rest of the clan.

"Is that not your name? What shall I call you, T'saaaaavo?" His friend teased mercilessly. "The great T'savo, the legend! Slain a thousand bad bloods and killed the gods themselves!"

Ma'koh never rested until his friend was thoroughly infuriated. All in good fun of course, had it been anyone else making such comments, Kal'ak would have made to take his head from his shoulders.

"Fuck you", was his only response, and his brother chortled with clicking laughter.

The pair quickly reached the port side embarkation room and observation deck, where most of the clan was gathered. Brothers stood in packs, comparing trophies, sharing tales of battle, and some sparring hand to hand. Kal'ak and Ma'koh stood shoulder to shoulder, staring silently out the window at the colossus that was the Ark, growing larger quickly as the ship moved ever closer.

"Grrrmmpff", a low grunt for a greeting was all they heard, and the two both turned their heads in unison to find the giant oaf that had somehow silently joined them. N'okk was quite possibly the biggest hunter in the clan, or close to it, and the other Yautja whose company Kal'ak didn't mind. Mostly because he said next to nothing, and also because he was a fearsome sight and valuable ally to have in fight.

Now it was Kal'ak's turn to harass, and he casually looked back out the window whilst speaking in a matter-of-fact tone to his large friend.

"You know, I was just admiring the head of that troll thing I killed last hunt, while you two were in the tunnels playing 'shooting gallery'. For a moment there I was worried I had taken your head as a trophy N'okk."

"Hmmm," N'okk grumbled and thought for a moment, "try that fancy jumping shit with me little man."

The other two snickered with laughter and Ma'koh made to push the big lug sideways, but he only succeeded in pushing himself into Kal'ak instead. Moments later, several of the clan leaders strode into the room with the elders following close behind. The high elder followed last, and the entire room spun to face him and beat their chest in salute. A short speech was typical of their highest ranking elder, and today he didn't disappoint.

"Brothers… we enter the great city." The old fossil began, "You represent your clan, the greatest of all Yautja. While we are here, if you must fight, do not lose. If you must lose, die."

There were several growls of approval and nodding of heads. Ma'koh leaned over towards his companions and hissed out a response to the elder's blunt instructions.

"We shouldn't have a problem with that should we brothers?" It was almost impossible for Ma'koh to not have some quip or remark about anything an elder or official said. Whether he meant dying or not losing, Kal'ak was unsure.

"Now…" the high elder continued, "prepare to march!" And with that, the entire clan began to form in rows of three, ready to follow their leaders out the gates onto the great city.

The massive ship slowly landed and docked securely with the arm of the great city that was designated for the Stone Knife clan, the back of the ship connecting with the central core of the citadel. Outside the ship, the causeway was busy with traffic, Grunts moving silently from here to there, and countless Yautja of various clans and factions going about their business on the top deck of the Ark. Several had gathered outside the ship to watch the clan arrive, and moments after the vessel was secure, the hatch doors slid open and the boarding ramp extended out to the causeway. The elders and clan leaders were first to step into the great city, and the many that saw them arrive gave salutes to the returning warriors. One by one, each trio of hunters filed out of the ship and onto their man-made homeworld, some glad to be home, others disappointed that adventures were over.

Kal'ak, Ma'koh, and N'okk stepped out into the bright red sun towards the end of the long line of brothers, and obediently marched down the causeway in ceremonial fashion, representing their clan and their race.

Maybe the cape isn't so bad, Kal'ak thought to himself.

He noticed several females and more than a few unblooded younglings recognize him as the young legend, a title he wasn't entirely thrilled about, but didn't overtly despise either. Some of them sent him informal salutes and triumphant fists in the air as he walked by. While Kal'ak barely nodded in response, his ridiculous jester of a friend Ma'koh waved and strutted as if the attention was for him.

Paya, by the time we leave here, half the city will think that fool is me, Kal'ak mused silently.

After a few minutes the elders at the head of the clan were at the citadel gates. They didn't so much as turn around to acknowledge the clan, as the gates opened and the elders strode in past the heavily armed and armored citadel guards, who impassively formed a wall behind the elders as the gates slowly shut.

With that, the clan dispersed, flowing randomly off to different parts of the city, many disappearing below the upper deck to lower levels of the Ark. Kal'ak and his companions walked up to the citadel gates and partook in a mildly amusing yet fruitless staring contest with the citadel guards. Their uniform masks gave no hint of any emotion, and Kal'ak suspected their faces underneath were no different.

The citadel guard, an elite charge no doubt, was something Kal'ak would never consider even if he were large enough to qualify, which he wasn't. Lord, he would become a bad blood before he allowed himself to be confined to this city for the rest of time. Looking from N'okk to the guards, some of whom were just as large, Kal'ak thought it would not be surprising if his giant friend ended up as one of them someday. It certainly was a prestigious position, however boring it may be, and it was well known that guards were provided with as many females, slaves, and luxuries as they wished, second only to the elders.

"So…" Ma'koh said, finally breaking the silence, "do you think after the elders sentence you to death in the pit of endless hard-meats, they'll let me have your stuff?"

Kal'ak just glanced sideways at his wisecracking friend with a look of indignation, but it was N'okk who unexpectedly spoke up.

"The elders will honor you T'savo, not punish, for what you have done."

The two looked at him, surprised he would even bother to waste his breath on a conversation not about himself, fighting, killing, or crushing skulls.

"Hmm, honor…" Ma'koh thought for a moment, "perhaps. You may have disobeyed the clan, but you certainly did a good job." Ma'koh finished, sounding serious for once in his life, but then added, "for a child-bearer that is."

Well there goes that… Kal'ak thought, not surprised at all.

"How long do you think before the elders summon your fucked hide?" Ma'koh asked, whilst stepping up to the nearest citadel guard and seeing how close he could inch the tip of his pointed finger to the motionless sentry's mask before being cut in half.

"Not long." Kal'ak predicted, folding his arms and leaning against a nearby pedestal. "I plan on waiting right here until they do."

Ma'koh jumped back from the guard in haste, having sworn the still giant had twitched, preparing to draw his spear. Kal'ak suspected that if a guard wanted to draw their blade, his friend would have been jumping away in pieces.

"Well, well, if it isn't the legend of the Stone Knife clan" came a voice from behind them. Kal'ak turned to see 5 of his clan mates striding up to the three of them in front of the gates, lead of course, by Mit'su'ka. N'okk had been staring right at them as they approached, but of course said nothing.

"I would have thought such a legendary warrior as yourself wouldn't need bodyguards to hold his hand through the citadel gates. I hope the elders confine you to the homeworld for the next hunt, or three." Mit'ka, as the clan called him, drawled on.

Kal'ak just stared, walking slowly to the side of his giant friend, and stepping forward to face his rival. Mit'ka and his group were only a moon or two older than Kal'ak and Ma'koh, and had always resented them for their skill and rising respect within the clan.

"I guess you didn't pay attention in suckling classes when learning to count, Su'ka", Ma'koh taunted. "Theres 3 of us and 5 of you… who's the one with bodyguards hm?"

Mit'ka scowled and angrily shot out his wrist blades out at the mockery of his name. "I wasn't talking to you, fool," he growled, then pointed at Kal'ak who still stood, arms crossed and silent, in front of his somehow even more silent beast of a companion. "I came for him" spat Mit'ka, glaring and locking eyes with Kal. "Why don't you show us what a legend can do, or are you a coward?"

It wasn't a formal challenge, per se, so no real response was necessary, but it certainly was an attempt at goading Kal'ak into making one. The citadel guards behind them stood ever still, having no business intervening in clan disputes and challenges among hunters, even if blood was spilled right outside the gates.

Kal'ak only snorted at his poor attempt at instigating a fight, and looked down at his wrist computer casually, tapping a button to display the time, before folding his arms across his chest again and staring down his opponent.

"Well I'm sorry but if you came for him" Ma'koh gestured to his friend, "you'll be thoroughly disappointed. I know well that T'savo prefers the females, but I hear there's plenty of man lovers in the broken spear clan, maybe you should join them."

Even N'okk smirked at this comment, and a few of Mit'ka's posse looked wide eyed at their leader, curious what he might do after an insult like that. Kal grinned as he saw one of the thugs stifle a laugh as well.

Mit'su'ka flared his mandibles in rage and Kal'ak was thoroughly surprised he didn't fire off a plasma bolt at Ma'koh right then, which he surely would have dodged, the fast little shit.

"Paya! When I'm through with your friend I'll have your head as well fool!" Mit'ka roared, taking several steps forward and dropping into a fighting stance. "What is this? You always have your mate do all of your talking for you, Kal'ak de 'ikai?"

Mit'ka had finally struck the right nerve using his full name, the name his brother gave him, in such a way. Without a word Kal'ak snapped out both his dual wrist blades, and the longer, single blade on his left and made to charge at his provoker. It took a moment before his friends realized he was on the attack. Ma'koh scurried in front of him, putting his arms out and grabbing ahold of his shoulders, while N'okk simply stuck out a trunk of an arm in front of Kal's chest, holding him back.

"Thaaaat's right coward! Have your friends save your head as well as your honor!" Mit'ka sneered, urging him on.

The fucking cunt! I'll kill him, thought Kal'ak, growling against his friends restraint. If his mask had been on, he would have sent a bolt straight through that mother-fucker's face. Fuck a fair fight, that bastard didn't deserve an honorable death. Just as Kal was considering slicing through his two best friends, the bellowing voice of a citadel guard roared out behind them.

"YAUTJA, CREE!"

Both parties stopped, and separated to turn and watch the gates slowly open. One guard in the line stepped forward and called out through his mask.

"Kal'ak de 'ikai, you are summoned by the high council." The guards then parted and made way for entry into the citadel, staring at Kal'ak through their polished masks and pointing their spears towards the gates.

Kal'ak looked back at Mit'ka and his group, who scowled and turned abruptly, stalking away in anger at having his fight interrupted. Ma'koh only grinned and slapped his friend on the back, while N'okk didn't so much as grunt, folding his arms again and looking through the gates in curiosity. Kal'ak calmed himself and retracted his weapons, then strode past the guards and through the gates into the core of the great Yautja city.

Inside the citadel, a place Kal'ak had never been, was reserved for elders, clan leaders, arbitrators, or otherwise highly esteemed and honored clan members or guests of the like. The entire place was much more artistically constructed than the rest of the Ark, offering a lavish and luxurious resort compared to the metal on metal of the lower levels of each branch outside the citadel. With two guards flanking him, leading him to the council chamber, Kal'ak walked through extravagant gardens, past fountains and ponds of crystal clear water, and past groups of quietly conversing elders, nobles, and other honored warriors that had audience in the citadel. They all turned to watch him as he was escorted by, and some even recognized him, possibly knowing why he was there. He received several grins of intrigue, even more scowls, but also a few nods or salutes of respect. Even some elders and experienced hunters had heard of his deed apparently, and not all disapproved. Kal'ak noticed that many elders and retired estate holders, who no longer sought to travel and hunt, had slaves or pets of various species, following behind them like dogs to their masters.

One small creature in particular caught his eye, as he walked past a group of noble Yautja standing and conversing by the edge of a sparkling glass pool. The elder with them, clearly a highly revered warrior, rich even for his age, adorned in gold accented armor and the finest looking materials that honor could buy, had a pale, waiflike creature kneeling beside him. The alien was person shaped, two arms and two legs, a head with two eyes, but it's skin was a pinkish tan and looked like the softest hide Kal'ak had ever seen. Instead of the thick, cord-like tendrils of his people's hair, the creature had countless tiny strands of yellow and gold silk flowing from its scalp, pulled back and bound behind its head in an intricate design. It's face was the strangest part of all, round and soft looking, like the rest of it, but with round, wide, enormous eyes. The eye sockets were so shallow it's eyes appeared ready to fall from its head, but it was oddly… beautiful. Those big round eyes were so prominent and colorful, and appeared almost juicy with moisture, magnifying their beauty.

Is that a human? Kal'ak thought, having never seen one before in person, though he recognized it from the diagrams and images in the archives.

The human's body was covered by only two small garments, around its chest and around its waist, leaving most of its sandy colored skin completed exposed. The only other article it wore was a tight black collar around its ridiculously slender and prominent neck. Kal'ak couldn't believe how long and… exposed its neck was, it was almost as if the creature was designed to have its head sliced off easily. He then noticed that it also had a clear plastic tube draped around its… odd, round protrusions on the side of its head (ears, he realized. Paya, they must have terribly insensitive hearing to require vibration capturing folds that large), which looped under it's small nose and branched two short tubes upwards into the breathing holes in that little, fleshy horn on the front of its face. Behind the human's head, the tube secured to its collar and then connected through a short line to a device on the elder's belt. Kal'ak suspected the human needed specialized air to breath in here, and consequently couldn't stray far from its master lest it suffocate.

Despite its… alien nature, Kal'ak found the human strangely beautiful. It looked so elegant and graceful. Long, slender limbs and skin that looked like melted cream, he literally couldn't take his eyes off the elder's pet, kneeling there beside its owner. He slowed a bit as he walked past, trying to linger and stare for a bit longer at the delicate looking creature, but received an irritated grunt from his escorts, whom he promptly obliged and caught up to.

Finally, they reached the council chamber, entering the main doors into a large hall, decorated with trophies and relics of ancient hunters past. The guards led him across the shining marble floors to the sanctum door, and stopped short as Kal'ak looked around the extravagant but otherwise empty gallery.

"Enter, the council awaits." The guard spoke, in an eerie monotone that had Kal'ak all too happy to push open the doors to the inner sanctum and leave the tower citadel guards behind. The heavy door seemed to close itself shut behind him, and for moments Kal'ak stood in nothing but darkness. He could only sense that he was in a large room, seemingly empty, and could see nor hear anything but the sound of his own breath. Without warning, a deep voice bellowed out from the darkness…

"Step forward." Was its only command, and Kal'ak felt no reason to disappoint. He strode forward several steps blindly, but dim lights slowly began to glow on the ceiling, illuminating the floor at least. A few more steps forward and the lights shined bright enough to dimly display the room. He stood on more polished marble, in a large, round chamber. Before him was a half-moon shaped wall, three times his height and carved with intricate relief depicting various cultural designs, hieroglyphic texts, and pictorial accounts of ancient tales. Looking around the wall, he also noticed that, evenly spaced from end to end, carved into the stone among the images was each of the 13 clan's symbol. He looked up to the top where he expected each elder to be seated, but there was nothing but blackness at first. Slowly then, the faces of the elders looming down at him were lit by individual spotlights, one at a time.

Paya… I see it's not just my clan leaders who have a taste for theatrics, he thought cynically. Aren't these old fools too busy for stuff like this?

Finally, 9 of the 13 elders were lit and sitting before him, high upon their wall, staring impassively down into the center of the room. Kal'ak assumed the missing 4 must simply be off the Ark, out on their clanships. But then, flickering in one at a time, the ghostly image of each elder filled his seat, clearly a hologram, broadcast from across the territories any time the elders called a council meeting. Kal'ak simply centered himself in the circular hall and looked up at his superiors. The thirteen faces seemed to regard one another, all nodding to each other in respect or signal to proceed, possibly both, then the centrally seated elder spoke. His rough, gravelly voice showed his age, but held no lack of grandeur, clearly the practiced orator that he was.

"Kal'ak de 'ikai you have been summoned here before the high council, in regards to your actions four moons ago. The council has deliberated in advance, and will now hear your account. Speak, young warrior, you do know the reason for which you have been brought here?" The elder, who Kal'ak recognized as the high elder of the Fifth clan, did not sound overly cross about this hearing, but rather interested and amused. The scowling faces of some of the others however, left Kal'ak to believe his fate could still go in any direction.

"I do." He responded simply, not afraid of the results of this council, but anxious to know them nonetheless.

"Then tell us," called one of the elders from a lesser clan, "is it true that you disobeyed your betters and snuck aboard the ship of a dangerous Bad Blood clan that your clan had been called upon to apprehend?" This particular council member, Kal'ak could tell wanted to see him punished.

"And killed them all." Kal'ak replied perhaps too arrogantly, which received shocked huffs from the council, and even a few barks of laughter.

One of the holograms spoke then, shifting a bit in his seat, with parts of him disappearing for a moment as he leaned out of the communication field.

"Your clan elder tells us that after receiving instructions to intercept the clan of bad bloods, your ship remained in orbit while the elders and highest warriors traveled to the planet where the arbitrator was killed in search of the H'dlak Thwei. But you, took it upon yourself to transport aboard the hidden ship, dispatch a number of the H'dlak, before setting their ship to self-destruct and returning to your clanship, all singlehandedly if the accounts are correct. An impressive feat", he concluded, folding his hands and sitting back in his chair.

"Seven, of the bad blooded scum." Kal'ak confirmed, gaining more grins from the elders who were clearly amused by his antics. He was beginning to feel quite confident of his chances of being rewarded rather than punished for this.

"And HOW," bellowed one of the council members near the edge of the room, "did you manage to find and interface with their transporter systems? How can we be sure you were not in league with these dishonorable fugitives, but turned on them in the final hour when their death was inevitable?"

Before Kal'ak even had a chance to respond, his own clean leader snarled in his defense. "Preposterous! This young hunter, though reckless and foolish, has been a great warrior and honorable brother of the Stone Knife clan since his first days of trial."

Another highly respected leader of the First Five also spoke on his behalf, and Kal'ak felt grateful for his noble bloodline for once, as well as his impressive hunting record. Had it not been for these factors, his arrogance and his contempt for authority may have cost him the support of these esteemed elders.

"Enough," called the executor of the council, who sat at the center of the thirteen, directly in front of Kal, "it has already been decided, but your presence here was desired to gauge the validity of these accounts." He waved his hand once, and the stone floor before Kal'ak slowly opened and a marble pedestal rose swiftly out of the darkness. Atop the stone slab sat a ceremonial spear, decorated in ornately carved blades and runes carved into its finely crafted alloys. The spear was a gift, given to honored warriors by the council for deeds of great courage, skill, or sacrifice. It was also a token signifying permission to enter into the citadel whenever carried by a Yautja. Kal'ak took it, and ceremoniously bowed to one knee in respect to the council, expecting to be sent away with nothing more than this valuable, yet disappointing reward.

"Your actions proved you a most skilled and courageous warrior, young one." the elder continued. "Though foolish and disobedient, what you have done is the mark of a great hunter and truly honored member of your clan, and your people. You have shown the skill and daring required of our Arbitrators… however, you are far too young to have earned that honor. We cannot yet elevate you to such a high position, but you are to be rewarded. Name your request and if within reason, the council shall see it done." The elder finished and sat back quietly, though others looked displeased, this was clearly the decision and it would not be reversed.

Now that's more like it, thought Kal'ak, grinning inwardly whilst trying to keep a look of utmost humility and respect upon his face. For a moment, still lingering in his mind, he thought of asking for that delicious looking human he had seen earlier in the courtyards. Whether he wanted to eat it, or… something else, he was unsure. But he quickly shook himself to sense, and couldn't help but smile slightly as he looked up at the elders to request the one thing he had always wanted.

---

Upon exiting the council chambers, Kal'ak stepped into the lush courtyards once again and this time was able to thoroughly enjoy his surroundings. He strode through the fountains and gardens idly, taking his time returning to the citadel gates through which he first entered. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn't look around for the elder and his human pet, but found no sign of them. Disappointed but unable to feel anything but ecstatic at the moment, he walked up to the citadel gates, which opened before him, and stepped past the citadel guards who parted for him as if he was Paya himself.

Outside the gates on the causeway, exactly where he left them, were Ma'koh and N'okk. The giant hunk of warrior simply stood, staring intently at the sky as if deep in thought, while Ma'koh was sitting against a nearby wall, snapping bones and tiny skulls off the trimmings of his armor, and throwing them lazily at N'okk's legs, eliciting an occasional grunt or click from their silent friend. N'okk was the first to see him approaching from the citadel gates, but only nodded in acknowledgement. Ma'koh finally noticed he had returned, and jumped up to meet him, mandibles spread wide in amusement as he noticed the spear that Kal'ak carried.

"So… you killed the whole council and took their finest spear, and now we're to be the most hunted bad bloods in the entire galaxy, yes?" His friend always seemed to get into the most ridiculous kinds of trouble, and if he couldn't find some, he made some up.

"Better." Kal'ak responded with one smirking mandible, as he strapped the spear onto his back and opened his wrist computer to access the archives. "Come on, I have things to pick up." His friends followed him curiously, Ma'koh never ceasing his questions about what the council said, where they were going, and whether or not he was now the right hand of the biggest fugitive in the galaxy. N'okk said nothing, but Kal'ak could tell he was also curious, listening intently to Ma'koh's questions and showing only very subtle hints that he too wanted answers. The trio took the nearest transporter to the renowned crafting sector, where all Yautja knew the finest blade masters created and sold the latest and greatest weaponry and technology. Kal'ak made straight for the shop of the famous Z'arzod, or "Zod" as he was known among the clans. The place was quite exclusive, and inside was rather empty, but outside the doors, lines of unblooded and young bloods stood, requesting entry if only to view the blades of the greatest warriors. Such low ranking hunters, however, had not near enough the reputation and accumulated honor to enter this particular workshop, let alone afford to purchase anything made by the master craftsman.

Kal'ak and his two brothers easily parted the crowd through respect alone, with some of those who recognized him holding out their arms asking for a scar from his blade. At the door Kal'ak wordlessly held out the elder spear, and the singular guard stepped aside with a nod of respect. Once inside, Ma'koh didn't bother to stick by his side, but instead went off excitedly, browsing the displayed pieces and wondering if simply being acquainted with "T'savo the legend" would grant him enough reputation to buy one of the unrivaled blades. Kal'ak walked directly to the back, with N'okk quietly in tow, looking around at the wares but more interested in why Kal was here and what he would say about the elders council. The pair found the old purveyor of blades sitting behind a desk adorned with small but exotic trophies, near the back of the shop. Though hunched and frail looking, the old man Zod somehow appeared oddly formidable and fearsome still, and Kal'ak didn't doubt that any young warrior who dare challenge this legend of weaponry would meet a swift end by some hidden and equally swiftly deployed blade. The old man looked up slowly as Kal'ak approached, and grinned a half-tuskless, dull-toothed smile.

"Welcome, young spiller of bad blood" he croaked at the two of them, "I had heard of your deeds, and of your arrival on the homeworld. I wondered if a young blood the likes of you would think himself worthy of carrying my steel."

Kal'ak stifled his anger, mostly at being called a young blood, even by this old legend. Though young, he was moons beyond being a young blood, he silently argued. He was a hunter now, a near famous one at that. But if he wanted the best weapons that honor could buy, he felt he should hold his tongue.

"Am I not welcome here?" he asked, in hindsight a little less respectfully that he thought he should have. The old craftsman laughed, then stood up faster than Kal'ak could have thought he was capable of.

"If you were not…here you would not be."

Fair enough, Kal'ak thought, and unfastened the elder's spear from his back. He thrust it in front of Zod and let him ponder over it for a moment, before making his offer.

"I'm here to trade. I received this from the high council, a rare gift I'm sure, but I hope to trade it here for a more… practical spear." Kal'ak set the ornate decoration down on Zod's desk, but the old man didn't look twice at it, instead turning on his heel and shuffling over to a display case built into the wall behind his desk. With a wave, he unlocked the door and pulled out a simple looking shaft, a bit longer than Kal'ak's forearm, from elbow to claws. It was slim in diameter, precisely the size of a spear Kal'ak sought. Zod walked slowly around the desk and spun the long, thin tube in his hand, expertly, before giving it a subtle shake, upon which two spear points extended out both ends with lightning speed. Each side of the handle now stretched out twice the length of the original handle on both sides.

A perfect size, Kal'ak thought, but was it capable of what he wanted?

"Is it…" Before he could even finish his question, the old man wordlessly took a flawless fighting stance, grasping the handle with both hands. Immediately, the spear's ends morphed with an audible shhhink, revealing two dangerously sharp blades at the end of each rod, turning the spear into a combi-stick. He then stood up straight and held the spear out towards the him. Instead of handing the spear to him, the old man held the weapon out flat in front of Kal'ak and N'okk, and gave an impressive demonstration of its multiple forms and capabilities. Without moving a muscle, he changed lengths, blades, points, and purposes. One side retracted and the other became a long, single-edged sword. Then the other end mimicked and created a double-edged, double-sided sword. A perfect multispear, the kind Kal'ak had only read about in the latest technology and weapons reviews. He had dreamt of having one for moons, but there were few produced, and even fewer given to anyone but elders, arbitrators, and the greatest of honored warriors. After his impressive demonstration, the ancient weapons crafter retracted both blades, and held the matte-finished tube that was the handle out to Kal'ak. He took it without hesitation and, completely genuinely, bowed his head in thanks and respect to the older master. N'okk tilted his head curiously, not used to seeing such humility from his usually cocky friend. Kal'ak tossed the spear from hand to hand excitedly, almost dying with anticipation to use it to kill something. Had he not been in the presence of two Yautja whom he genuinely respected, he may have been inclined to make a challenge right then.

"The the blades change with your mind," spoke the old man, now shuffling back behind his desk once again to sit calmly. "When next you put on your mask and bring all your systems online, grasp it and will the blades to generate all the forms you wish to store in memory. From that moment on, it will remember your flesh, and your command. My blades are compatible with all masks and armor," he finished.

Kal'ak bowed again in thanks and made to leave, but the old man cleared his throat and Kal'ak turned to see him holding the elder's spear out to him. "You are forgetting something, young warrior," Zod growled across the room. Kal'ak walked back to his desk and began to protest, but the old man stopped him with one gnarled, clawed hand. "The honor is mine, to arm the skilled and brave. I will not take it."

Kal'ak nodded again, then both he and N'okk departed, carrying both the elder's spear and the advanced new combi-stick strapped to his back. As they approached the exit, Kal'ak turned to N'okk and held out the decorative spear to his giant friend.

"You want it?" he asked, not so desperate to shed the respect of the high council, but feeling generous and wishing this token of respect not go to waste.

N'okk shook his head and raised his palm in refusal. "Give it to our foolish friend, he is in need of respect more than I." Kal'ak agreed, and they walked out the door to find Ma'koh challenging young bloods in the corridor, laughing as they backed away, and offering to fight two at once. The joker turned to grin at them, before calling after a pack of retreating unblooded Yautja to call them a host of disrespectful names. As Kal'ak and N'okk stepped up behind him, even more scattered out of the area, with Ma'koh grinning triumphantly as if he had actually just won a fight.

"You know, you're going to get killed very soon," Kal'ak insisted at his friend, who turned around with a look of pure apathy. Ma'koh merely shrugged and spit on the ground, then looked curiously around Kal'ak for any new and exciting weapons he may have acquired in the shop.

"Well… what did you get?" He pestered.

"Nothing you will ever afford, since you won't be living long enough to make a name for yourself." Instead of showing off his new spear, Kal'ak held out the elder's and pushed it against Ma'koh's armor, refusing to take no for an answer. "Take this, it will only go to waste hanging on my trophy wall," he insisted. Ma'koh, however, seemed to have no intention of refusing. He snatched the elaborate blade from Kal'ak's hand and held it high, wide eyed with delight.

"I can get into the citadel with this!" He exclaimed.

"And I suspect be promptly removed, in one piece or several, for offending someone you shouldn't," Kal'ak thought out loud, to which N'okk grunted in agreement. Ma'koh seemed not to notice, and went about aiming and mock throwing his new spear at anything that happened to be in front of him. "Come on, we have one more place to go," Kal'ak said as he took off towards the city core. His two friends shared a glance, wondering where he might be leading them, and then jogged to catch up.

"If you're taking us to a pleasure house, we're not interested in watching that", Ma'koh called after him, but Kal'ak only waved them forward, and the three of them entered the nearest city transporter and exited in the city's industrial sector, several decks that spanned the entire central core of the Ark, below the citadel. This area was the last, all-indoor deck before the bottommost sector of the Ark, which consisted of the massive shipyards beneath the citadel. After a short walk through the industrial sector's least industrial corridors, Kal'ak entered a nearby elevator, and took his friends down to the infamous Yautja shipyards, where the hunter's power over the galaxy was forged. As soon as they stepped out onto the catwalk of the yards, Ma'koh seemed to guess why they were here.

"The shipyards...? No… NO! No. Fucking. Way. Kal… they didn't?"

Kal'ak grinned and replied, "They did," before bringing up his wrist computer and trying to navigate through the shipyard manifests. He was unsure of exactly where to go to find his reward, but before he could access anything useful, a short, orange hued, bug eyed creature came running up to the three of them waving a datapad in greetings. Kal'ak had not gotten a click out before the alien began talking at the three of them in their own language, yet so fast it was hard to keep up.

"Welcome, welcome! You are T'savo the slayer of bad bloods yes? Come, come, I have been told of your arrival. We have your ship nearly ready in bay 9, come, you will see, you must see."

The orange stranger was of a species Kal'ak wasn't sure of, but he was guessing it was a Salarian, a race of scientists that had long ago allied with the Yautja, and now did much of their inventing and engineering when it came to technology. Though he had never read as much, this particular Salarian made it appear as if his species did not need to breath. Even as he briskly trotted away from them, motioning for the three hunters to follow, he still never ceased chattering on about the ship he was about to show them.

"Come come!" He called from a few paces ahead, Kal'ak and his companions found themselves using their full stride in order to keep up with the shorter but surprisingly quick alien. "You will be most pleased I suspect. This particular vessel was commissioned, brand new of course, for an arbitrator. If I'm not mistaken, the one that was killed by the very same clan of bad bloods that you destroyed. Most impressive… Yes the high council informed me that since you requested a ship, they felt it fitting you receive the vessel that the fallen arbitrator would have taken. Indeed since you ended up completing the task that he failed to do. Most impressive, surprising that a Yautja would know how to hack into the transporter systems of another ship, a cloaked one at that… no offense meant of course."

Kal'ak would have replied 'none taken', but before he had the chance, the verbose orange scientist rounded a corner, and as Kal'ak stepped onto the walkway to follow him, he stopped dead at the sight looming before him. There, docked in the construction bay, sat a brand-shining-new class 3 frigate. Robotic cranes and arms were still applying finishing touches to the outer hull and a crew of Grunts scurried about the outside of the craft, and presumably the inside as well, attaching, tweaking, and adjusting various last minute components. The sight even served to stop the endless ranting of the Salarian, for a moment. After a brief stop around the corner to take in the full view of the ship, the Salarian took off again, towards the nearest boarding ramp, leading Kal'ak to the underside airlock near the cargo bay.

"Come come! Your ship will be ready in moments. Several elders from the high council requested that I divert other crews to this vessel in order to finish it quickly. I assure you however no corners shall be cut, as they say. The bays under my charge produce only the finest ships, the finest I assure you. Come, shall I show you the interior?"

Lead by the Salarian, the three Yautja boarded the nearly complete frigate, and were taken on an almost too complete tour of its form and functions. The little orange man never ceased his prattling, allowing the trio to barely share a click or growl of excitement, or annoyance, during the showing. It was however very educational, and exciting, to attempt to take in every piece of his new ship at once. The Salarian explained its features in rapt detail, often times so technical in his explanations that even Kal'ak was unable to follow. Ma'koh, he thought, must be utterly lost. The ship was nothing less than state of the art, not unlike his new spear, and it did not go unnoticed by Kal'ak that he know possessed some of the most coveted technology among his entire race, weapons, armor, and a ship that hunters three times his age still only dreamed of. His new ship was equipped with the best of the best in weapons and defenses, cloaking and communication, as well as internal amenities such as a fully equipped, top of the line medical facility, training room, trophy chamber, and quite possibly the most luxurious quarters he had ever heard of, let alone been inside. The bath chamber alone was twice the size of his quarters on the clanship, and his state room was like a small cargohold. The actual cargohold was divided into several sections, one of which was dedicated to containing live captures, and was already stocked with multiple cages of various sizes. Their last stop was the bridge, a veritable command and control center where every part of the ship could be accessed and configured. The Salarian engineer pointed out the main controls and features, but everything seemed standard for a Yautja hunter's vessel, which Kal'ak was all too familiar with, solely from reading and studying every piece of data he could find on ships in the archives. He was confident in his ability to fly it, and sat down slowly in the captain's chair, switching on the main computer and communications, finding that these systems were already fully functional.

He sincerely thanked the Salarian, and asked him to go and see his ship fully completed and designated for takeoff as soon as possible. The engineer congratulated him on his new ship, rather extensively not to their surprise, and then exited, making his way to the nearest airlock to oversee the final steps before the ship was ready for undocking. Finally able to enjoy some peace and quiet, the three of them sat in the control room chairs and silently admired the ships construction for a few moments. Finally, Ma'koh slid his seat over to the communications console, and began to hastily look up interspecies porn, according to him, the "perfect christening" for a new ship.

"Well shit, brother…" he said, finally closing out of the explicit images. "A solo ship… acquired by single handedly slaughtering 7 bad bloods aboard their own cruiser, you're officially the luckiest son of a hardmeat I've ever heard of."

"After today, I have to agree with you", Kal'ak said from the captain's chair, not bothered by that analysis, or anything else really. Sitting in that seat, an entire ship at his fingertips, his ship, made him feel like a god. He ran his claws along the control panel, feeling electric excitement under the newly machined metal, arcing through his fingertips. N'okk, still silent, brought up the navigation controls, displaying a large three dimensional map of the nearby space. He went about scrolling around the galaxy map, finally speaking up to ask where Kal'ak would go first. Kal thought for a moment, but really hadn't a clue. His greatest dream was to acquire his own ship, but he never really had any specific place he wanted to go. After only a short while, the communicator lit up, piping out the voice of the hurried Salarian engineer through the control room's audio system.

"Ah, excellent, yes! All systems optimal. Arbitrator… ahh, er Captain T'savo, your ship is complete, ready to go. I've informed traffic control already, am patching them through to your communications now. Ah… one last thing, I must insist… a fine ship, try not to destroy it, I hope, such a waste."

"Oh I don't plan to" Kal'ak reassured him over the microphone, then promptly switched off the channel and awaited traffic control's clear to launch signal. Kal'ak started up the main propulsion drives, immediately hearing a dull roar of the inertial dampeners and idle thrusters that now took the ship's weight off the docking arms. Only moments later a message from traffic control came through, clearing his ship for takeoff, and the drydock clamps that previously held the ship in place detached and retracted. A display on the controls showed them when all attachments were clear, and Kal'ak clawed the manual controls for the first time, smoothly dropping the ship from its construction bay, and slowly burning towards the closest shipyard exit. The vessel handled effortlessly, and in seconds the shipyard gates were opening to the red, dusty landscape beyond the Ark. Kal'ak took his new ship in a high arc above the station, then back down towards the clanship, still docked on one of the 13 long arms of their homeworld.

Kal'ak guided his gleaming new craft to the docking bay of the clanship, and was promptly cleared for entrance. As he maneuvered the ship to a suitable airlock bridge, he initiated automatic docking procedures and stood up with his friends, to see them off the ship. Ma'koh and N'okk had never expected to go with him on his first journey, as they knew well Kal'ak's longing to be a solo hunter, but Ma'koh couldn't help but grin and feign a friendly punch to the gut.

"After you go out there and find the latest, greatest prey on some uncharted world, you better come back and get us before you take anyone else there." If anything, Ma'koh would actually miss his friend more than mind that he wasn't going with him. Voicing this sentiment however, was simply not in their vocabulary. Outside the airlock, Kal'ak put a heavy hand on his best friend's shoulder and shook it sincerely.

"Don't die before I get back," was his way of saying I'll miss you, and hope to see you again soon. Ma'koh smiled and waved his new spear in thanks at his friend, before departing into the halls of the clanship. N'okk was even less vocal, but still gave a whole-hearted farewell, in his own way.

"Hunt well, and bring honor to us," He said frankly, and Kal'ak would have shook his shoulder as well, but it was simply too high for him to reach without some serious feelings of inadequacy.

"You as well brother, and if you get the chance, kill that child-bearer Mit'su'ka for me." N'okk smiled and grunted his amusement and agreement to this request, before stalking after Ma'koh down the corridors of the giant ship. Kal'ak was preparing to leave, but looked to his side to find High Elder Ya'kesh standing outside his ship, waiting patiently for him.

"Elder," Kal'ak addressed him, nodding in reverence. The ancient leader of their clan smiled, an uncommon event among elders and leaders who usually remained so solemn.

"You have been given a great reward Kal'ak de 'ikai, thanks in large part to myself and the other elders of the First Five. Our testimony on your behalf is what allowed you this great gift, we would not see you squander it." The elder paused, awaiting Kal's response with wise brows arched.

"I mean not to Elder, I will cherish this honor, by my blood and the clan I swear it…" The elder cut him off, laughing in the way only an old man can.

"Your formalities are unnecessary young warrior, all I hope is that you find honor, and whatever glory you seek. We have no doubt of your potential Kal'ak, but your recklessness may be your undoing. The clan, indeed the high council, expects great things from you, and we believe you are deserving of this honor. Do not prove us wrong young brother." Kal'ak could only bow in appreciation at this sign of respect, and the elder grasped his shoulder with equal reverence. "Go and hunt well son of the Stone Knife Clan, enjoy this privilege that so few are honored with… and do not die too quickly," The elder finally added with wizened smirk. With that, he turned abruptly, his black cape flowing behind him, and entered the ships corridors, disappearing behind an airlock door in mid-stride.

Kal'ak paused in reflection for a few moments, before regaining his original excitement, and some of the recklessness that his clan leader had only just warned about. He spun to the ship's airlock and almost ran back to the bridge. Sitting back down in the pilots chair, he took hold of the manual controls once again, having too much fun to simply allow the automatic routines to undock him from the clanship and leave the planet's atmosphere. In moments he was rocketing at full speed out of the churning green and yellow clouds of the barren rock's sky, and met with an unfettered view of the stars on a background as black as the xenos he now dreamt of slaying by the hundreds. He allowed the ship to drift for a while, simply reveling in the feeling of power and pure glory that he now held. This was better than being an Arbitrator, he thought. He had the ship, the weapons, the reputation and honor, but was unhindered by the responsibility of the calling. No orders of where to go and what to hunt were sent to him by the council, and no bad bloods sought his head above all other trophies.

Though I certainly wouldn't mind finding their heads, he mused silently. Hastily, he then opened the navigation controls and explored the map of the galaxy. It was known by all, that every new solo hunter who received his own ship, immediately went off in search of previously uncharted worlds and undiscovered prey. Kal'ak was no different, if not the most determined young hunter, to find a new and horrifically dangerous prey, or some unmet race of worthy warrior opponents beyond the known territory of the Yautja. He set his course, to the remote edges of the cluster, passing not far from the infamous blue and green world called "Earth", an enticing destination for every Yautja no doubt, but requiring special license and permission granted by the high council to hunt there.

Shit, he thought, I should have requested an Earth permit as well.

But that could wait he supposed, if he returned to the homeworld with the skulls of worthy and previously unknown prey, securing permission to hunt the humans on their home planet would be an easy task. With his outer-rim course plotted, he initiated the hyperdrive and felt a rush of power like no other, as his own ship blast out of orbit into speeds far beyond that of light itself. Kal'ak, recently dubbed by his people as T'savo the legend, smiled to himself, high on freedom and power, then stood up to more thoroughly explore the depths of his very own ship.

---

Somewhere amidst the countless lights and seemingly endless skyline of Shanghai, far above the millions of mere mortals that clogged the traversing streets below, a man of immeasurable influence sat in his penthouse office, looking out over the nightly glow of Earth's largest city. He sat far away from the window, in the center of a tasteful conference room, so as to only see the picturesque landscape that was a human city skyline, and not the filth of the undercity that even now swarmed below him. The man was young, and fit, but his face showed the reflection of ages, the minor creases in his skin giving off an air of wisdom beyond his years. He leaned back in his chair, the head seat of the long conference table, headrest bumping against the solid oak as he rocked slightly, his hand rested on a short glass of amber whiskey on slowly melting cubes of crystal clear ice. A gently rolling cigar was lowered from his lips and held between his fingers, the bulk of it burning off without ever being inhaled, filling the room with undulating coils of smoke and a thick and entirely affluent scent. The man slowly raised his glass, just as a faint buzz came through the speakers from the office door. Straightening his pressed, black suit, the unnamed executive casually set down his drink and pressed a button on the arm of his chair. A chime sounded, and seconds later the large double doors opened and a second man, in an only slightly less expensive suit stepped into the room with a briefcase in one hand and a tablet in the other.

"Sir," he said hurriedly, clearly short of breath from whatever strains he took to get there so quickly, "we've just received the destination proximity signal from the Mortifer, the crew should be taken out of stasis within a matter of hours, and by tomorrow they should be in orbit."

The seated man paused, smiling slightly at the news. He didn't bother to look at his assistant, but simply picked up his glass and took the sip of whiskey that had been interrupted by the second man's entrance. Then, staring out the wall of plate glass, he spoke in a slow and decisive tone that radiated anticipation and a certain malicious conceit.

"And the payload?" He swirled his glass, sloshing spirits and ice against the pristine crystal.

"All reports indicate not one problem aboard the ship sir. The crew is all accounted for, and the payload is secure," his assistant happily reported, so pleased to give good news to his master, like a loyal lap dog bringing back a fetched ball.

"And how long after they reach orbit will the payload be delivered and… active?" His assistant looked defeated now, unable to answer his question; he hesitated and nervously dropped his briefcase so as to scroll through his tablet, searching the mission reports for an answer.

"I uh… it doesn't exactly… I'm not sure…" The second man stammered with uncertainty, but his employer cut him off short.

"Don't I pay you to know these things? The company is expecting this operation to demonstrate just how effective both our industrial and weapons divisions are, and I need every detail to make sure that happens." The man spoke with no anger, and an even tone, yet somehow managed to sound more intimidating than the loudest drill sergeant.

"Yes sir, I'll find out right away." The second man made to leave, but stopped short of the office doors and turned to his boss, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "And sir, if you don't mind me asking… I was just curious, why didn't they send you with them, to oversee the Pandora operation in person?"

The man smiled modestly and sipped his drink with another long, drawn out twirl of the glass. "Well in a way they did, but do you think I would actually get on that ship? With those things? Just be glad I didn't send you." The man spoke as if he was only casually joking at the notion, but his assistant knew all too well that if he had played his cards wrong back when the mission was launched, he really could be out there in a cryotube right now, separated only by a few modules from the payload. Not a pleasant thought. "Now," said the man, "find and send in that bio-chem… bio-weapons... the expert."

His assistant nodded and nearly jogged out of the office, and the man laughed to himself. Those young ladder climbers, always believing that kissing ass and doing things faster will one day get them where he is now. He swirled his drink and ash'd his cigar, nearly forgetting about the smoldering stub, then stood up and made his way into an adjacent room. Inside was what appeared to be a space-age coffin coming out of a large ring in the wall. A familiar avatar link module, but this one was decidedly special. This particular module, was developed by the company specifically for him and this operation. It was dubbed the QEALM, or quantum entanglement avatar link module, and would allow him to remotely operate a human avatar across the 4 odd light-years to Alpha Centauri space and eventually the surface of Pandora. In theory, he could be anywhere in the universe from the comfort of his office, but the mineral rich and now infamous world of the system nearest earth was his second body's destination. The man carefully opened the lid of his private mind-link, and examined the interesting construction inside, curiously probing the gel like substance on which he would be laying. If all went according to plan, he thought, the payload would be deployed to the surface of Pandora, and certainly rid the moon of the many troublesome indigenous life forms, especially those lithe, blue natives that had proven to be so troublesome for the RDA. Well, Weyland Yutani was not the RDA.

Building better worlds indeed, he thought to himself, closing the lid of the QEALM just as he heard his office door open and the head engineer from the bio-weapons division entered, settings his briefcase and computer down on the conference table.

"Dr. Tokiyamo," he said returning to the larger room, "please, sit down… we have much to discuss."