Surprise, surprise! Part three of my Predator continuation trilogy! For any distressed readers, don't worry, I'll still be updating "Predator: Monsters", but I just needed a break. I love Preds, lycans, and vampires as much as the next guy, but after so many weeks they get a little old. This story will probably be updated at less frequent intervals because I have to pretty much rewrite the entire thing because I originally wrote it right after War of the Worlds and, thank god, my writing had improved since then. For those who are new to this series, you may want to read "Predator 3: Homeworld" and "Predator 4: War of the Worlds". So, here's the first chapter! Enjoy!

Predator 5: Ambassador

Chapter 1: Take-off

The sun shimmered in a bright orange hue as it began to set in the Nevada desert, smearing the sky with a rainbow of color, while only the brightest of the stars broke through the light to twinkle in the sky. A vulture circled overhead, in the hopes of finding a meal before all light and hope had faded. Brush and scraggly trees dotted the landscape. The only thing even slightly out of place was the huge alien ship that sat on the large runway of the Franklin hangar in the south of Nevada.

Jean leaned against the large doorframe of hangar that opened out into the desert. Her chocolate brown hair was drawn up in a tight ponytail, hanging only to her shoulders with the blunt edge of newly sheared hair, and her emerald eyes squinted in the bright light. She dressed casually in black jeans, a burgundy tank top and a leather jacket, cut long to help hide the pistol on her waist. Leather boots, calf height, provided home for a small hunting knife. She didn't think she'd need them, but it never hurt to be cautious, especially when you where hanging around a bunch of aliens that could kill, decapitate, and skin you without breaking a sweat.

She grinned slightly as she watched the yautja and humans bustle about, trying to make sure the ship was completely ready for take off. She had to admit; it was very amusing to watch the fierce, alien hunters work with their former "prey". Then again, the humans weren't so much working along side the yautja as they were trying to follow their superiors' orders while staying as far away from the aliens as possible; their tension was obvious to say the least.

The hangar was a rather large military one, one of the seven on Earth capable of somewhat handling a yautja ship. Luckily, yautja technology was more compact than human technology so the aliens were able to bring any necessary items with them.

For the most part, the humans either busied themselves with fixing any issues that dealt exclusively with the human ambassadors or watched the yautja with mixed awe and curiosity as the aliens prepared the ship. No true negotiations had been made yet, so the yautja were strictly forbidden to tell any human what they were doing. The yautja were very protective of their technology and knew that what might seem like a simple comment about the workings of the ship, could be used against them. Of course, the humans couldn't tell a yautja death-ray from their form of a garbage can, but paranoia was still at an all time high.

The ship was huge, bigger than the hangar, and it gleamed a dull gray-black in the sun. It was rather hard to describe the shape, some cross between a falcon and a fish, but as far as Jean was concerned, she didn't care what it looked like. As long as it could fly and didn't blow up or fall apart, she was just peachy.

Jean had been chosen for the position of "High-Ambassador" to the yautja home world, along with a half-dozen others who would be stationed under her. Though her promotion had been the topic of much debate, those in charge had to admit that she was one of the three humans that had ever allied with the aliens and was on good terms with them. She had yet to meet the others that had been chosen to go with her but hoped to the heavens that they were not meek or shy; that would be a major problem when dealing with the domineering aliens.

"Are you ready for your journey, Ambassador?" a throaty voice asked directly behind her.

Jean barely managed to not jump in surprise, startled out of her reverie, but answered, "I guess so, but it seems like they aren't," she gestured at the human and yautjan workers.

A yautja warrior stepped out from behind Jean, his towering seven feet and ½ frame easily dwarfing her five foot six. Dressed in the dark grey armor, but without a mask, was Saren'te, her closest yautja associate. Jean had barely gotten used to his fierce appearance, crab-mandibles, domed skull, and all. His pale, ivory skin was patterned with jagged burgundy and black stripes along with tiny bits of deep green speckling; his fluorescent, orange, infrared eyes were wide and alert, unhurt by the bright sun.

Over the past three months of planning, Jean had interacted with the young alien and the two had developed a tenuous respect for one another, though trust was too strong a word to use for their relationship. He had assisted Dutch, Harrigan, and herself in stopping a full-scale yautja invasion of Earth, though his assistance was based mostly on his own personal reasons. At the time he was a student, but was made a warrior for his actions. The small, crooked cross-shaped scar on his brow was a testament to that.

"They are merely checking for faults in the engines; they will be done soon, Ambassador."

"You're not going to be calling me 'Ambassador' the entire time we're on you home world, are you?" Jean asked, turning away from the ship to face Saren'te directly.

"Do you wish me to?" Saren'te asked back. Jean marveled at his ability to speak English so well, and could only pray she would learn the Yautja language with as much ease; unlikely.

"No," Jean said firmly; she was going to hear enough "Ambassador" already, there was no need to overdue it. She turned back to the ship, "Just 'Jean'. That's all."

"As you wish," Saren'te replied with a bow.

"So… you just here to bullshit with me or did you need something?" Jean asked.

"You have visitors," Saren'te pointed towards the back of the hangar and Jean grinned at the sight: Alan "Dutch" Schafer and Michael Harrigan strode towards her. She had known Harrigan since she was thirteen, shoved into his squad by government officials who didn't know where else to put her. The gruff former lieutenant took her under his wing while the motley crew of his "team" taught her the "ropes" of their squad: from a black ops assassin showing her how to fight with a knife to an old marine that gave her pointers on hitting a moving target when you only had one bullet left in your gun.

As for Dutch, he had only come into the picture a year or so ago. One of the first men to encounter a yautja and survive, he had been placed in a separate group sequestered away by the same government that shoved her and Harrigan together. At first she had thought he was an arrogant ass, but overtime he grew on her and vice versa.

"Are ya gonna miss me!" She called with a laugh, "I promise I'll send a postcard!"

Harrigan rolled his eyes, "You'd just better focus on staying alive than finding a postcard."

"Pish-shaw," Jean snorted, waving a hand, "You worry to much. I'll be fi-ack!" tipping over nothing, Jean stumbled, but quickly regained her footing, holding her head up like a cat that ran into a wall, stunned, but with too much pride to admit to error.

"God help us all," Dutch muttered shaking his head.

"Oh, shut up," Jean snapped.

Saren'te spoke behind her, startling her for a second time, "Have you tired of your companions that quickly?"

"It doesn't matter how much I "tire" of them; it's not likely they will just leave," Jean grumbled, pouting.

"I could… escort them away if you wish."

Jean snorted and said, "When did you start following my orders?"

Saren'te paused, "I had assumed they had told you already."

"Told me… what?" Jean asked, intrigued, turning her hawk-eyes on the alien.

"There are some Yautja that are… unhappy with the peace between us and would go to great lengths to disrupt the proceedings, including trying to… harm you. Therefore, the Elders have decided that I am to be your personal guard. All the ambassadors are to have a guard."

Jean blinked, "Wait a minute. You're telling me, that you are my bodyguard and have to do pretty much everything I say?"

Saren'te's eyes grew suspicious, "To an extent, yes."

"You're in for a world of hurt now," Dutch told the Predator, "You're going to be her personal slave …" Dutch couldn't help but feel sorry for the alien; he was in for quite a trip.

"Meh, not so much a slave… more like a servant…" Jean grinned at the distressed alien, "I'm still surprised you two aren't coming with me," Jean turned back to the guys; as much as she denied it, she was going to miss them.

"They need us here for the other negotiations. Hopefully, if you screw up, we'll be able to correct it here," Harrigan said.

Jean was about to snap back when the main doors opened and a group of six people, with guards on all sides, entered the room. They all wore rather proper looking clothing, suits and ties for the men, modest blouses and skirts or slacks for the women. Some were young, others older, but they all stuck close to each other like a pack of wildebeest parading in front of a lion pride.

"Who the hell are they?" Jean asked. They're eyes darted around in unison, each looking in a different direction, jerking at sudden sound a movement.

"They are the other ambassadors that will be joining you to my home world," Saren'te answered. "I suppose you wish to introduce yourself."

"I guess," Jean said with a shrug, approaching the group of people and jumping on top of a nearby crate and snapping her fingers to get their attention. It may not be the most formal of introductions, but if it got the job done it was good enough for Jean.

"Ok, people gather around, and be quick about it!" Jean smiled, thinking she could get used to bossing people around. It was quite fun.

"Who are you?" one of the men asked, his accent betraying his British heritage. His hair was a white blond, short and somewhat spiked. He looked a little like a punk-rock star whose parents made him join a business firm.

"I am Jean Ann Raisa, the 'High-Ambassador', and pretty much your boss," Jean answered smugly, puffing herself up.

"Wait a minute," one of the older men interrupted. He had a black goatee and black hair, but seemed to be balding; his lack of accent made Jean guess that he was American, "You're the High-Ambassador? You're a kid!" His voice was deep and he seemed to have a natural flair for glaring and had a pale, almost pasty face. Not a very pleasant looking person.

Jean narrowed her eyes and tried to ignore the sounds of Harrigan and Dutch trying to muffle their laughter. "I am actually nineteen so I am an adult and have far more experience with these guys than you've had in your dreams, so I'm also the most qualified to head this mission.

"Oh? And what exactly is this experience?" The man crossed his arms and the other adults, almost all seemingly older than Jean, regarded her with mixed amounts of curiosity, confusion, and skepticism.

"Well, between getting the temporary cease-fire signed between us and them and taking Vicanti's bullet I say I've built a fairly impressive resume."

"That was you?" a short redheaded woman blurted out before she could stop herself; she had a rougher accent, very Slavic, so Jean pegged her as a Russian.

Jean smiled and pulled back part of her shirt, showing the new white scar from the bullet. The stuff Saren'te had put on it really helped with making the scar seem smaller, but she wasn't about to tell him that; that would only give the alien more incentive to slap more of that scalding blue crap on her.

Jean's grin widened when she saw the looks of shock on the people faces. "Now as I was saying, hopefully we will be able to work together with at least a small amount of peace at the appropriate times. To put in bluntly, if we are snapping at each others' throats, these guys," Jean gestured to Saren'te, "are going to wipe the floor with us. Basically, be nice to an extent." Jean leveled a glare of the goatee guy, "Or I'll have my bodyguard here take care of you."

Everyone looked at Saren'te with no small amount of fear; Saren'te turned his head in their direction and minutely shook his head at the group, which visibly relaxed.

"Don't worry about her attitude! You get used to it after a while!" Dutch shouted over.

"Or you could just ignore her!" Harrigan added. Jean gave the two her death-glare and was considering giving them a rather rude hand gesture when Saren'te interrupted her.

"The ship is ready." Jean glanced out the hangar doors and saw that the humans that had been bustling about were almost all in the hangar and the last few Yautja were climbing aboard. The ambassadors' had been told to bring very few items, basic toiletries and other random knickknacks. The Yautja had assured them they would be provided whatever they needed to a certain extent.

Jean gestured for the people to disperse and hopped down from the crate she had stood on. Walking over to Dutch and Harrigan, Jean said, "Don't do anything stupid that's going to affect me over there. The last thing I need is to deal with pissed off Yautja all because you did something stupid."

"I actually think it is us who should be worrying about that," Harrigan said. Jean smiled and hugged Harrigan, then Dutch.

"Back to the arena for round two, ha ha!" Jean shouted, pumping her fist in the air and jogging towards the group of ambassadors who were moving towards the ship. Saren'te was about to turn and follow her when Harrigan called to him.

With all seriousness, Harrigan said in a hushed tone, "Don't let anything happen to her, or we'll both be after you."

Saren'te gave a small bow, "I will protect her with my life."

Harrigan smiled slightly and nodded goodbye to the Predator that joined Jean as she walked up and into the ship.

"I hope she'll be ok," Harrigan said to Dutch.

"It's not Jean I'm worried about," Dutch answered.

Hope you liked it! Please review! Btw, this story is dedicated to Stan "the Man" Winston, who died recently. He was the AMAZING creator of Predator, Terminator, the Alien Queen, and the T-Rex from Jurassic Park. Stan, you were a phenomenal artist and you will be missed.