AUTHOR'S NOTE: Aliens and Predator do not, of course, belong to me. This is meant to be a large-scale, epic work that encompasses the whole of Predator civilization. If you're expecting random hick town "unexplained" murders or marine-on-xenomorph action, please be advised: none of that is here.

Reviews are always appreciated, as they let me know my story is being read.

In addition, this story is rated M for mature because it deals with sex, gore, violence and language that many parents would not feel comfortable having children read. It also deals with issues that children and even younger teens may not be able to understand, and I will not dumb down my writing for them.

Also please be advised: I am a scientist. According to scientific rules of logic I have picked and chosen the parts of the fandom which make sense, such as Predators being therapsid-like in their composition. I have also discarded, based on my interpretation of science as we know it, those ideas which are ludicrous, such as natural 'heat vision' and ectothermy. (Heat vision because of the structure of the eye, similar to a human's which would be composed of rods and cones and therefore perceive visible light, and ectothermy because their braincase is enormous and large brains generally require warm-bloodedness.)

My advice to you is to leave those nits alone and enjoy.

xXx

The midwife, an aged hag with greying locks watched the old mother labor with her child. The midwife was some 150 years her senior and had delivered thousands of sucklings. In all her years tending the newly-born and their mothers, she had seen few births as difficult as this. The bitch, Uru'ki, was well past the age of a normal breeding female. The midwife would normally have given this as the reason for a child taking so long in the birth canal. But for this child, something was surely different. Uru'ki had birthed ten times before, breeding strong and courageous warriors. But the father of this child was different.

Uru'ki was tired of the same Blooded, she had said during the post-coital meeting with the midwife. The father of this child, she had said, resting her hand on her still-flat belly, is special. The midwife, who had no name, could not have known how special he was. Perhaps she thought that he was an especially exceptional Hunter with scores of skulls lining his walls. She could not have been more wrong.

Uru'ki sighed heavily, her hulking form bent over the birthing bench. The midwife moved between her haunches to inspect the child, who was still refusing to move down the birth canal. Uru'ki's strength was gone out of her; the labor was taking too long and the midwife began to fear for the child. She chattered softly at Uru'ki, urging her to try one more time. The deep-set eyes flickered open, half-lidded. "It is no use," she offered, defeat in her voice. "I am too old. Cetanu will be waiting for him when he is born." The midwife frowned. Speaking of death during a birth was unwise. "Do not say such things. He will grow up and be a fine warrior, just like your other sons." Uru'ki managed a small smile and then gripped the midwife's hand, tightening her massive grip. A low roar started in Uru'ki's throat; the midwife felt the heartbeat of her charge quicken and become erratic. Uru'ki's mandibles flared wide, and her voice was stretched hoarse with screaming. The midwife, bearing the noise, looked down to find that the child was moving down the birth canal, and she discovered the reason for the delay; his head was too large. She reached out to support the child as he came into the world, cradling his small, gray-green body. Uru'ki's voice failed her and she slumped over the quiet child.

The midwife sliced the child free of his mother with the da'kalei, the child-knife. She up-ended him and pulled his mandibles free of their birthing membrane, opening his mouth up to breathe. A quick swat to his bottom dislodged the mucus plug in his lungs. It splattered wetly on the floor, mixed with the green blood of his mother. The baby sucked in a breath and began to bay and howl for a teat. The midwife wrapped the child in swaddling cloth and turned to Uru'ki. "See, a fine son!" Uru'ki's thighs were smeared with black-green blood, the blood of the dying, and it formed a mire on the birthing bench, on the floor. The midwife bent next to Uru'ki, the child in her arms forgotten. Uru'ki's eyes were dull and did not see. "You fool," she whispered. "Cetanu was here, but not for your son."

The midwife named the child Escthta, which means "mind-born". It was an unusual name for a boy, but she felt it appropriate for him. Uru'ki would have been pleased, for the child's father was not a mere Hunter, but a powerful psionic, Thio-de, gifted with mind-sight. It was too early to judge the young Escthta's psionic ability, if indeed he had any. Given the mother, though, the midwife could not help but feel strongly that he was a unique child who carried the force of two lives inside him- his mother's and his own.

xXx

Escthta paused at the foot of the ramp, surveying the landscape. The wet, marshy ground held a veil of mist close to it, occasionally allowing twisted black branches to claw up beyond the gossamer flow. It was chill in the air, and he half- reluctantly stepped off into the vapor, feeling the ground give wetly under his clawed toes. He paused and flicked the shiftsuit on as Cthinde drew up next to him. They were the scouting team on this Hunt, and their comrades would prepare the restraints before they set out to capture their prey.

Cthinde turned his shiftsuit up as well, although they both knew that the advantage they gained from it was trivial at best. The Hard Meat was not fooled by technology; their Queen, with her enormous brain, saw without seeing. She would feel them enter her lair, send out her guard to deal with the menace, and hiss in rage when they did not return. The bravest warriors took a Queen very seriously, and Cthinde was braver than most. He flicked his eyes toward Escthta, looking at and through him at the same time. Escthta was his friend; they had grown up together, and Cthinde knew that this hunt might kill one or both of them. The circumstances of the Hunt demanded the best: the Queen must be taken captive, and alive. Take skulls only if it does not jeopardize the queen. The Queen takes priority. Cthinde checked his spear and then clicked once at Escthta. Escthta ran off in reply, and Cthinde followed, both of them running the full 200 meters to the yawning chasm where the monster's lair lay.

Escthta and Cthinde split rank in front of the dank black maw, each moving to one side. Stale, rank air rolled forth over the ropy black resin that crept out of the hive. Escthta made a small movement with his hand and chittered softly. I go first. You get the ones who come from behind. Cthinde nodded, inwardly glad that Escthta had volunteered. Of course it meant that he would be handling the drones, but he was quite content to take them on and leave the Queen's Royal Guard to his friend. Escthta was stronger than he was, and Cthinde wasn't afraid to admit it. But Cthinde's reaction time was better, and he could handle the swarms of drones with the kind of split-second reaction time that meant the difference between life and death. He nodded inwardly again. Yes, it was better this way.

With their backs to the wall, they crept inside; Escthta ever so slightly forward, their spears and shoulder cannons at the ready. The air grew thick and damp; Cthinde took it in deeply, trying to scent the kainde amedha he knew were coming. The queen must know by now; they were so deep into the hive and no attack had come yet. He strained his eyes, looking for the subtle tone-on-tone movement. He rolled his wrist, hefting his spear and preparing to extend the blades. Escthta was moving slower now, his head jerking at the smallest sound, his mandibles clicking unconsciously as he entered the dt'tlei-de, the warrior mind. Cthinde tried to let his mind sink into the meditation, where there was no distraction, only movement: action and reaction. As he lengthened his brainwaves, his vision changed and things stood out in sharp relief. He saw the drone slip out of a side passage some 20 paces back. Without needing to engage his mind, his burner fired a blue-white shot and the drone screamed and smoked on the floor. Escthta paused only for a moment. He raised his spear and the long, acid-proof pikes slid out. We're here, he chattered. Without taking his eyes off the rear guard, Cthinde knew from the smell of rotting flesh and fetid birth: the Queen's antechamber.

The still air inside the chamber was rank; Cthinde reeled as his scent organ took in the conflicting smells: dead bodies; the resinous hive matrix; the acrid newness of the Queen's leathery eggs. Escthta seemed unaffected by the stench and was, if anything, more tightly wound than ever. He dipped the front of his spear forward as they moved around a corner and into the Queen's chamber proper. His blade was ready for the Royal Guard who lurked in the dark recesses.

Cthinde heard the call of the Guard as it fell, a deeper, desperate scream. Before he could blink, drones swarmed out of countless labyrinthine passages, their silvery teeth and glistening long heads turned toward him. He began to fling them away with his spear, burning those at a distance and engaging in closer combat with those too quick for his cannon. Their acid blood flowed, and he quickly regained the warrior's mind, seeing clearly their numbers and attack patterns. Escthta would surely be in dt'tlei-de as well, although his dance with the Royal Guard would resemble nothing of Cthinde's dervish. Cthinde turned to impale a drone, grinning at its death throes. The pace of attack seemed to diminish, and Cthinde felt sure that he was at last thinning their ranks. He did not see them crawling out of a crevice above his head.

It was Escthta's bellow which alerted him. "Cthinde, above you!" Cthinde whirled to find the dim passageway between Escthta and himself seething with Hard Meat. The closest one sprang at him, reaching out with long claws and talons. Cthinde took the drone as it hit him, his large hands gripping the ridged alien's sides, and fell back, launching the drone back over his head with his foot. Its hard body clattered against the wall, and Cthinde jumped to his feet, turned, prepared to face its attack.

The drone turned back upright, its sharp tail flailing and lashing the air. It hissed and sprang forward, locking arms with the yautja in front of it. Saliva flowed from its jaws and it flexed its tongue-mouth, driven to a mad frenzy by the proximity of the Queen. Cthinde's arms locked against its onslaught, and he threw the thing again. It seemed to turn in midair, striking out with its tail as it landed, and barely missing Cthinde's head. It screamed and charged him, knocking him to the ground. Cthinde struggled with its new-found strength, born of the War Empress' influence. The little mouth shot out and snapped at Cthinde, who barely held its teeth at bay.

Escthta knew, on some level, of the life-and-death struggle going on a few paces behind him. His warrior mind accounted for the thrashing bodies and he found some small comfort in them, knowing that as long as the movement was violent, Cthinde was still alive. His mind considered this on the fringe of its current task: watching the Royal Guard in front of him. He could not see the Queen yet, even with his improved vision. The larger warrior alien's head was solid black, not faintly transparent like the drones'. It had small processes on either side that formed a small comb at the back of the head. Escthta took it as a serious threat; this being had the potential to become a Queen after they took their prize and it deserved to be treated as such.

Conservation was a chief concern among the yautja. It was critical that native species be preserved, that the area might rebound after a Hunt and be good hunting grounds for other clans later. For this reason, all kainde amedha who were seeded on a planet were killed before leaving. This planet, however, had a natural abundance of the Hard Meat. Their scout ship in orbit had detected no fewer than three older, mature hives, one on each continent. Years ago, the yautja had declared the planet a natural preserve, and it was here that all clans came to get their Queen who would lay the eggs that seeded Hunting worlds. Kainde Tjau'ke, they called it, a hard rock. The world belonged solely to the Hard Meat; evolution and speciation steered well clear of this world, where their mechanisms would be useless against the Queens and their progeny.

Escthta knew all this naturally; his familiarity with the intellectual pursuits of the yautja was unusual at his age, a mere 300 years. He had no doubt that the Royal Guard in front of him had gone unchallenged for at least as long. It had still not moved, though his spear was ready if it did. The Guards were not aggressive, unlike the drones. Their singular purpose was to protect the Queen. He sidled against a wall opposite the Guard. The larger alien curled its lip, exposing its shining teeth. Escthta paused, evaluating the warrior's posture and threat. He was growing more and more impatient; the others would be here soon, and they would expect that the Queen be ready to be moved to the ship. He hesitated only a moment and then stepped forward to join it in battle.

Escthta's mandibles flared inside his mask as he charged the Guard. He stomped his foot into the resinous floor, trying to gain purchase. The long head loomed large in his vision, the teeth gnashing terribly. He strained against the larger alien and twisted his body to throw it, putting all his weight into the move. The black alien twisted back, and Escthta was sent flying; he landed on his right side and felt his shoulder pop out of its socket. He briefly assessed the damage. It's my spear arm. If I can get a moment, I can put it back in and at least stand a chance. He rolled to his other side to get to his feet and was halfway up, his useless arm dangling at his side, when the Guard leapt on top of him.

He crumpled to the ground under its weight. It held his head down with a clawed foot, mask pressed into the hive matrix. Escthta did not see the writhing tail line itself up with his back, the spear-sharp point curved wickedly toward his spine. The weight of the Guard cut off blood flow to his brain and he felt his nerves lose contact with the rest of his body. So, this is how I am to die? With a Queen just beyond this Guard, facedown in their hive? He reached out feebly to grab the foot of the alien that was not on his neck and had secured his grip around it when he felt the body shudder above him. The talons left his neck, and he breathed easier for a moment before he could find the strength to roll over and get up.

Cthinde held the Royal Guard impaled on a spear, its limbs still twitching. Escthta made a sign of submission to Cthinde, relinquishing his claim on the kill. Cthinde chattered approval and let the hard-bodied corpse slide to the ground, kneeling next to his friend and checking the airhoses on his mask. Escthta waved him off, rubbing his throat. The first group of Hunters had come in behind him, and Cthinde stood by his kill to have his prowess known. Rithc'te, the highest ranking Blooded in the first party, nodded at Cthinde. Cthinde roared his satisfaction and he and Escthta joined their ranks to go into the Royal Chamber and restrain the Queen.

The first four yautja through the archway were no match for the Queen's razor claws; she cleared them aside like rubbish. Their entrails seemed like small green footlights, and the Queen's enormous jaws hovered over the crumpled bodies, hissing her wrath. The ghoulish light provided foul illumination to work by, but no yautja had time to mourn those who gave their lives. Rithc'te stepped into the void left by his four comrades and fired his restraint cannon high. A thick squelch told of its purchase, and he struggled to fasten his end into the hive matrix. The Queen screeched as she brought her claws down on Rithc'te; it was her royal gift of warning, and with it, Rithc'te received deep gouges across his chest. He howled and fell backwards against the wall, the restraint cable limp in his hand. Cthinde leaped forward and grabbed the cable, plunging the anchor into the hive matrix and ratcheting the cable tight. The Queen's huge black crest was drawn down on her back, pulling her head up. Her deadly jaws were moved up out of the way, and her throat was exposed. Without being able to move her comb and shift her weight forward, she was paralyzed. The Hunters knew better than to revel in their luck; most restraint cables saw several hands before they were secure. The Queen screamed her outrage. The restraint cable creaked as she struggled, but it was woven soft, designed not to cut into her flesh and release her acid blood.

Precious few eggs had not yet been moved to the Egg Chamber. Those that did blossomed, their meaty petals opening and releasing their agile occupants. The facehuggers chittered and covered ground astonishingly fast. Cthinde and Escthta were the closest, and the facehuggers made them their targets. Escthta's burner fired four times, and four facehuggers sizzled and burned in the concavities of the hive matrix. The fifth made it to Cthinde. He blocked its grasping fingers, grunting as he fought it away from his mouth. He held it out and threw it to the ground. Escthta was ready and burned it immediately. It whined as it died, and Escthta jerked his head to Cthinde. "We'll call it even, then."

The rest of the Hunters fired their restraint cables and fastened the queen's limbs to her sides. One Hunter strayed too near and was dispatched with an errant swipe. He fell as others clamped her hands and fingers back along her length and blunted her claws with chunks of bone. Another Hunter brought her muzzle; a metal mask for the queen, a cruel parody of the masks her Hunters wore. He avoided her snapping tongue easily and fit it up and over her jaws. She yowled and moved her arms as if to remove it, but the ropes bound her tightly. Another Hunter fastened it behind her comb, and motioned to Escthta and Cthinde, standing on either side of the massive egg sack. They slid their wrist blades in under her knife-edged tail and sawed away at the crusty, gelatinous tube, cutting the queen from her ovipositor. Her screech echoed through the hive, a call to action from any of her children. And they came.

The second group of Hunters ventured fearlessly into the hive, suspensors strapped to their backs. They carried spears with tazers on one end, meant to stun the Queen and keep her docile while they moved her onboard the ship and into her holding pen. They stepped around the bodies of Cthinde's slain, and quickly, expertly secured the thrashing queen until she was little more than a seething mass of ropes. They worked quickly; the Queen was completely bound and ready to be moved when the attack came from all sides.

They came in waves, swarms, threatening to overrun the 20 or so remaining Hunters who guarded their prize jealously. One small team got the suspensors working under her weight and began moving her. The other 15, including Cthinde and Escthta, walked slowly with the Queen, defending themselves against her enraged subjects, while one of their number supported Rithc'te. Cthinde was relieved to see that his wound was not mortal. Queens were lethal enough, and the fewer Hunters that fell by her hand, the better. Almost as if she had taken issue with him, the Queen shrieked. One of the Hunters-in-waiting jerked the Queen's muzzle tighter, and she could no longer call her children to her. Cthinde paused as they passed his dead Guard. After a moment of deliberation, he darted out to cut the head from his kill. His work was quick, and Escthta kept the encroaching aliens off him while he dressed his kill. The skull came quickly, and he carried it with him as he killed the children of his Queen.

The Queen's screams turned to mewls of horror and anguish as she was loaded into her cell. One yautja lowered the collar which would hold the Queen and force her to produce eggs for the Hunt. Dvi'ren, an older Blooded, clapped the irons on her massive hands and around her neck. He did not flinch at the sound of her jaws gnashing inside her muzzle. He had been on many Queen-gatherings, and his heart was steady and strong. He secured the Queen in her collar and, half-affectionately, patted the side of her head. His years were catching up with him. Dvi'ren had been with the Clan for centuries- few Hunters saw their 600th birthday, much less their 700th. In a few months, he would leave his clan and go on his Last Hunt, seeking only the companionship of the Black Warrior. He smoothed his speckled palm on the side of the Queen's face, feeling her sinews stretch and quiver without fear. He clicked softly at her, as one might soothe a suckling, and the Queen quieted down, a small defeated mewl creaking out of her. Dvi'ren slipped away from the Queen and out through a small hatch hidden behind walls on the side of her cell. Another Hunter undid the fastenings on her and skipped out of the way of her reaching claws, yanking on the rope and sliding out of her reach into the small alcove and exiting the hatch. The Queen was bound, and she cried piteously as she felt the ship rock and lurch under her, taking her from her children.

Dvi'ren joined the rest of the clan in the kehrite, where celebration was already underway. Escthta was already at his song-writing, conjuring up a masterful re-telling of Rithc'te's bravery and Cthinde's courage. Rithc'te didn't hold much with singing, although he did like all the attention he was getting. Rithc'te was sitting in a place of honor on the arm of the Elder, his abdomen bound. His mandibles drooped slightly, but he had already drunk too much to dull the pain. Dvi'ren was surprised he had lived at all; most Hunters who took a hit from a Queen were doomed, as five warriors had already discovered. Syu'ne was sitting next to the Elder, talking amiably. Occasionally, they looked to Rithc'te for comment, and he would garble some response. Whether it made sense or not, the Elder and Leader both nodded slowly, as if considering this august advice. Dvi'ren chuckled softly. He too had been in that seat once, making a drunken fool of himself. Luckily, nothing said was ever taken very seriously; c'ntlip was a masterful intoxicant.

Dvi'ren crossed the kehrite, avoiding Cthinde and a younger Blooded reenacting the capture of the Queen, and sat next to Escthta, who was using a stylus and writing the stiff, spidery script of their language onto a piece of thin holomembrane. Dvi'ren was illiterate; he could not read the lyric Escthta was laboring over. He grunted, by way of asking what the lyric was. Escthta clicked softly, the harsh words sounding almost soft under his breath.

The vile demon queen did lay
A thousand dead 'round her that day
Though sharp of tail and fang and claw
Though menacing her gaping maw
Rithc'te the Brave ne'er did sway
His aim was true, history may
Gaze upon the Queen he won
With eyes and wits and sharp talon
So dearer than his mother's teat
Is the weary warrior's resting seat.

Dvi'ren grunted again. It was good, and spoke truly of Rithc'te. Escthta was a strange one; Dvi'ren had never met a younger Blooded than himself who was so interested in the ways of their race, their laws and literature. Reading was not highly prized among their kind, so few learned more than the creation myths and number system. Escthta, however, was extraordinarily literate. It had a lot to do with the Elder that had accompanied this clan almost fifty years ago. The Elder Noskor, a truly old Blooded, some thousand years or so, had taken in the young prodigy, schooled him in the finer stylized arts of combat, and allowed him access to his library. Noskor was himself still alive, but Escthta's learning had met his own, and with his young apprentice fully schooled, the Elder had become an Arbiter. It appealed to his sense of justice, which was underdeveloped in most. Dvi'ren clapped Escthta on the shoulder approvingly. "It will serve him well." It was the closest thing to a compliment Dvi'ren had ever given. The party continued long into the night, and they made merry at the expense of their royal guest.

Escthta emerged from his quarters some hours later, wincing. Even he had consumed too much c'ntlip, the fermented fruit brew that stole inhibitions and loosened mandibles. His head felt like it was packed in te-dqi, the thick slime of the Hard Meat. He passed Dvi'ren, who was also up and about and offered him a curt greeting. Dvi'ren shook his head and grinned toothily. "I stopped drinking hours before you did. You should try it sometime. Your mornings will be better for it, I assure you." He sulked at the pain in his head and went down the corridor to Cthinde's quarters. He pressed the sumcom and held his hands to his temples, massaging them gently. Maybe he would try to drink a little less tonight.

A rough bark came from behind the door, and Escthta pressed the sumcom again for entrance. The door whirred open, revealing Cthinde cross-legged on the floor, with his skull from the day before in a large metal cleaning pan. His gloved hands were black with cleaning fluid, formulated to dissolve even the aliens' unreactive black flesh. The fluid was especially effective once the corpse had been given the chance to 'mature'. Past a certain point, the liquefying meat simply released from the skull, becoming vaguely acidic slurry that tended to pit and warp the bone. That and the smell became almost unbearable. Timing the cleaning of a kainde amedha skull was important to get the best possible skull with the least amount of trouble. Cthinde had apparently found the perfect time window; under his loving ministrations, the Royal Guard's skull was beginning to show its pearly secrets.

"It's a beautiful skull." Beautiful was hardly a term that yautja used often, or correctly; the word barely existed. But Escthta meant it; the skull had matured well and Cthinde's expertise at cleaning was making a good skull into something a warrior would place in the center of his trophy wall. Escthta's eyes moved up to the wall, noticing that Cthinde had already cleared a place for it, moving aside the human skulls from their last Hunt.
"I am honored by your admiration," Cthinde answered, the traditional formal answer to such a compliment. Cthinde was purring with pleasure, carefully buffing away the flesh off the bone. The fluid ran down the sides of the skull, silty with chitin."You didn't come here just to admire my skull, did you?" Escthta jerked his gaze back to Cthinde, who had stopped cleaning for a moment to lock eyes with his friend. "You got a good enough look at it yesterday, I'd wager."
Escthta smiled faintly and then grunted an assent. "Yes, I'd noticed its quality before." He'd noticed it well; such a fierce Guard, and it was a fine trophy. "We're heading straight for Council now," Escthta offered.
Cthinde's head was again bowed over the skull, and he was using a small brush to push the silt out of the skull's grooves. His voice was flat. "Yeah, so what?" He looked up, a lewd curve to his mandibles. "Thinking about all those females?"
Escthta snorted. "No." A pause. "Well, maybe some, but that's not why I'm thinking about Council."
Cthinde had returned to his cleaning. "Oh really? What else is there at Council? Neither one of us is old enough to be an Elder. Our Clan has a Leader. We really have no business being there, do we? Besides the females," he added.

Escthta took a seat and leaned back against the wall, resting his forearms on his propped-up knees.
"Lovely view," Cthinde joked and Escthta pushed at his cleaning tray, causing his friend to jerk his arms protectively around the pan. "Hey, watch it!"Escthta chuckled. "This view has never had any complaints, thank you." Cthinde grumbled, gingerly moving his pan back away from Escthta's feet."Why do you think Hir'cyn's traveling with us, Cthinde?"Cthinde shrugged, remaining intent on his work. "I don't know. Elders get bored easily. He's a wanderer; doesn't like to stay in one place too much. I guess. Maybe." Escthta's voice grew lower, as if he was afraid of being overheard. "He's from the Council."Cthinde's brush slipped, spreading silt all over the bone. He cursed and quickly poured more fluid on it to keep it from setting. "What do you mean, he's from the Council? Why the hell would the Council send him here?"
Escthta shrugged and spread his hands in ambivalence. "Maybe they're choosing Leaders for new Clans. Maybe Syu'ne is looking to move up to Elder. Maybe there's something special about this Council."
Cthinde grunted, his mandibles tilted in the oral equivalent of a shrug. "Maybe. Maybe not. Either way-" he continued cleaning the skull's dentary, "-we're going to get rewarded for her Royal Highness."
Escthta clicked softly. "You'll get the reward. You got the skull."
Cthinde considered this for a moment and then chittered approval. "If Paya wills it, we will both be rewarded, my friend."