Sorry for the delay, I got waylaid by the Olympics, LOL. To every country that's participated or won a medal of any kind, congratulations! To those still waiting, I'll be cheering for all of you. I couldn't do any of it without ending up in the hospital, LOL. I don't own/make money from Aliens/Predator.

Honorable Warrior Med'ka slunk as quietly as possible into the doorway to the right. The small gold plaque beside it said something in Ooman that he couldn't decipher but he paid it no mind. Ooman's were stupid creatures, whether young or old and he couldn't stand them. It was a well known position of his among his brethren and he defended his stance aggressively. Anytime a hard meat Queen was born within an Ooman dwelling such as this, he struggled to conjure sympathy. Not to say his own species wasn't naturally curious, they were, but they were smarter than Ooman's. Their species and civilization spanned at least a millennia longer than theirs, so to him, Ooman's were developmentally behind. Stupid. To be hunted, pitied, and spared at times only because their lack of prowess was beyond shameful.

His drive on this particular mission, if he were totally honest with himself, was centered solely on fighting the hard meats and bringing back trophies. The fate of the Ooman's was simply in the background. At least on this particular floor. Level One. Below him was the ground floor, and below that the sub levels. This level smelled thickly of pups barely out of infancy. He had compassion, of course. They were too little to die by the hard meats but since entering the building, he'd yet to encounter a single Ooman adult and it made him chatter his maw in derision.

It was unheard of on Prime or any Clan ship for a female to leave her young unattended, or at least out of ear or eyeshot. Their sense of smell could well exceed the tracking distance of any other sense, but their females were wise. They knew it only took a second or less for their pup to come to harm or to parish and be cradled in Cetanu's arms into the hereafter. Ooman's just didn't bother to care, it seemed to him. Instead of feeling angry and sick about it like his team leader, Honorable Elder Thwei'dok'de, Med'ka felt nothing at all but a maddening sense of witnessing dishonor.

The room he padded into, quietly at last, surprised him. He'd stepped from metal grating that announced his presence as surely as a shout to cushion like material that was as foreign to him as actually encountering Ooman's to begin with. Glancing down at the ground, he investigated the covering with a sandal clad foot. It wasn't hide, at least not from any prey that he'd ever encountered but it was soft if rough, against his toe claws. Multiple strands of some kind thread or fiber looped and fixed against a backing of some sort. Shuffling his feet, it made a 'shh' noise.

Directly in front of him was a single pane of window, stretching at least thirty feet from left to right and showcasing the glory of the outside world, if it could even be called that. Powdery white sand of the planets surface with various stars and other celestial bodies in the distance. In the middle of it was an opaque projection screen, presumably for showing things to the pups. The wall to the left was comprised entirely of overlapping sheaf's of single paper, colored brightly and awkwardly by a suckling or pup like hand. The various artwork was primitive, showcasing unsteady hands and a lack of focus. To his right, various larger print papers were tacked to the wall.

Med'ka couldn't understand a thing, but he thought they might represent drills of some sort. Numbers, maybe letters. Colors, pictures of various creatures, an Ooman clock, and so forth. Directly in front of him, between the wide window expanse and the door was a large open area strewn with various pallets that he hadn't seen before. Some appeared to be misshaped bags. An assortment of toys was scattered about too along with many low round tables and flimsy chairs of matching size. There was no blood, no gore, and no sign of hard meats.

Rumbling in his chest, the Honorable Warrior strode forth in full camouflage and angled himself off to the left, to the wall covered in artwork. Dropping to a crouch, he inspected each of the four large vents that ran the length of the room with his hands, senses and mask settings. The undeniable stench of youth was always present, but he couldn't detect anything signifying a hard meat. Each grating was firmly intact, yet the air flow through each seemed disturbed. A blockage.

His maw chattered again as he stood, evaluating the smaller vent grates overhead. Having to stretch on his tiptoes, the third vent seemed to carry some kind of sound. Quieting himself, he angled the right side of his head to the metal slats and listened intently. Bowing sounds of thin, malleable metal. Slight scrapping sounds of something being dragged or scurrying along. Face huggers!

Vocalizing low in his throat, Med'ka extended his wrist blades and slowly stepped back, watching it with hawk like interest. When the face hugger, or huggers, burst through he would be ready for them. They weren't fully grown adults, but they still posed a reasonable challenge. They were the scourge of a Chiva, as far as he was concerned.

His younger brother Tjil'de had become infected by one during his Chiva when he took off his mask to mark his crest with their clan symbol. He'd survived the embryo implantation, having it surgically removed once back on the ship, but his health never seemed to be the same after that. Unstable and weaker by a degree, he'd lost Cetanu's battle on his first true hunt as a Blooded Warrior.

The door suddenly slammed shut and the unmistakable "click" of the security locks sounded through out the room. Med'ka spun in that direction and roared his challenge, clear and unmistakable but the sight that met him cut off the sound abruptly.

Lined up in single file along the wall with the door were at least forty small Ooman pups, staring at him with various expressions. Some were blank, some held apprehension or fear, but others still held… Med'ka wasn't sure what. Pride? Admiration? Deviousness, over confidence? He'd never bothered to study Ooman expressions before, but those were the scents he detected so he guessed they'd match up. Instantly, he went still with unease. They continued to stare.

In the strained silence that ensued, one of the young females stepped forward boldly. Just a few steps, with her wispy soft brunette hair framing a heart shaped face and wide, doe like eyes in her academy uniform of skirt and blouse. She stood a head taller than the other pups with her chin up and tiny fists curled at her sides. She seemed to be their leader.

"You're a Yautja", she said with a firm but lilting voice. She seemed to be staring right at him.

Med'ka said nothing, not understanding what she'd said and stayed fully cloaked. He wouldn't harm any of these pups; they were defenseless according to his mask scan. Merely garbed in clothing without a weapon in sight.

"I know you're there," said the little Ooman. Her wide eyes darted all around the room, but mainly seemed to stick to the area around the vents to the left where his challenge had originated. They also lowered towards the floor.

Med'ka's own head dropped to follow hers. While he was fully invisible, the slightly plush carpeting did show indentations of his feet. C'jit. Even if he moved, they'd spot him.

"I know you won't hurt us," she said confidently, but it seemed forced. "Show yourself… please?"

He debated. While he couldn't understand her words, even with his translator since he'd been obstinate in downloading the Ooman language to his database, he knew her tone of voice. She was asking something, almost pleading. They were mere pups, barely coming to his knees or even mid thigh and they were unarmed. If they were scared, they were brilliant at putting on a brave front because his mask could barely detect fear from them now. It was more apprehension and excitement. Did they see him as their savior maybe? He hadn't encountered a single security force member since entering the building which was strange, so maybe they knew of his species and were asking for protection?

The silence and stand off seemed to stretch out, until he finally grunted and disconnected his cloaking device. Small little blue arcs of electricity lit up around his body as the technology subsided, powering off. The little Ooman leader was rapt in her attention, perusing him from head to toe with her limited vision eyes.

Amber quivered but refused to give in to her paralyzing fear. She had to remember what their leader, Meg, had said. These Yautja, these Hunters, didn't hurt little girls. They were safe. They had nothing to fear. Drawing in a deep breath that smelled of ozone, wax from their craft crayons and something that was oddly... him, she relaxed.

The alien in front of her was nothing like she'd ever seen before, and without fear she studied him brazenly, openly, as only a little girl could do. She noted his crested, broad head and hanging dreadlocks. His wide shoulders, narrow waist and long, long legs. The armor he wore was shiny in the faint light of their kindergarten. He was big. He was… cool.

A grudging smile on her lips, she hesitantly stepped forward and kept coming in the quiet until she was right in front of him. Close enough to really study him, close enough to touch. She came to just above his knee, and looked up. And up.

Med'ka looked down on the little pup, tilting his head in mild curiosity but saying and doing nothing. A quick glance, unseen by her behind his visor, showed her classmates standing just as they were. This little one was definitely the leader of the pack and brave. Even full grown adults of various species didn't dare approach a Yautja Warrior. He stood at ease, alert and aware since his discovery of the noises in the vent, but the next move had to be… hers.

"Will you play with us?" She murmured, her little chin trembling the faintest bit.

She smelled... innocent. Pleasant. Female. Young. Like his first born daughter had, when the female he'd mated in the third season since his Chiva had presented her around the same age. He was as mystified and inadequate then as he was now; no matter they were different species. He felt... nervous.

The little Ooman tilted her head during her inspection of him, sizing him up perhaps, before seeming to come to a decision. Grabbing his large clawed hand with her smaller one, she tugged him closer to her classmates with a confidence that would've made any Yaut Bearer proud. Med'ka was impressed, and uncomfortable. He followed the little one with halting, almost ungainly steps as the row of tiny females broke rank and slowly moved to circle him, at least forty strong, their curiosity evident and barely contained. Twisting his head this way and that, he watched them close around him.

"My name's Julie," the brunette leader said, looking up at him with awe and steel in her young eyes. "What's your name?"

Again Med'ka didn't understand, but he recognized the sound of 'Julie'. To his species, "Gwei'lei" which meant "Dead Blood". For an odd moment, he wondered if he should take care with little female. Looking at her upturned face however, proved just how stupid his notion was. She was an Ooman pup, nothing more! Growling low in his throat, he freed his hand from hers and crossed both arms across his massive chest in defiance.

Ooman 'Julie' frowned at his actions and seemed to study him even closer. If she were much older, he'd get the feeling of a breed able female evaluating him as a worthy male. From the set of her sapling like figure to the harsh crease between her furry brows, he got the distinct impression that she found him severely lacking in manners and conduct. Preposterous.

"Fine," Julie snapped with all the angst of a child, "I'll simply give you a name if you can't tell me yours." Crossing her own short, thin arms across her undeveloped chest she glowered up at him. "Bob."

Bob? He couldn't pronounce that in Ooman or Yaut, but he had the feeling that it wasn't nice. He voiced his displeasure with another low growl and allowed his dreads to rise around his head.

The little Ooman seemed undeterred however, taking his growly silence as acquiescence as she nodded. "Bob it is then. Bob, we're Mrs. Myer's kindergarten class." Med'ka tilted his head despite himself, but she continued.

"We found you, so we're going to keep you. You're going to play with us," the pup said with as much conviction as she could manage. The other pups in the room murmured their agreement and the excited tension seemed to rise up around him. "Sally? Show him." The Julie pup suggested, heavily stressing some kind of hint.

Med'ka followed her line of sight to another little pup with riotous curly hair much too… big, for her small face. The pup nodded eagerly and ran to the far wall with the paper pictures, scanning them briefly before ripping down one in particular. The girl ran back into the inner circle with him and Julie, her steps slowing with caution as she held out the image. Was she giving it to him? He grunted and snatched the gift from her tiny hand, aware that she'd yelped and danced back a step but was still watching him, along with the rest.

Lifting the flimsy paper, he cycled through various visual settings until one of them was able to show him what was on it. It appeared as a simple, awkwardly done line drawing like the rest on the wall but this one seemed to have more precision and heart than the others. Intrigued, Med'ka tilted his head again and traced the lines with his eyes. It seemed to be a Yautja, much like him, with a wide stance and a masked face with an arm thrust into the air. Combi stick in hand, the impaled head of a hard meat was easily distinguished by its oblong shape. Victory in battle.

Chirping behind his mask, he lowered the paper to look first from Julie to the bushy haired female who had given him the drawing. Had she done this? Been the one to draw it?

"D-do you like it?" The bushy girl stammered, her voice higher pitched than Julies and slightly more fearful yet she stood her ground with a straight back, rubbing the palms of her small hands against the fabric of her skirt over and over.

Everyone in the room watched him expectantly, or so it felt. It was so quiet a hard meat egg could hiss open and he'd hear it like an explosion. The loudness of the silence unnerved Med'ka, made his skin ripple and he growled again. Instead of backing away though, the group of pups closed in tighter, stepping forward in battle lines to trap him. What was their game? What were they up to? Why did they draw pictures? Why didn't they run in fear of him? Why were they now crowding him? What did they want? Why was he... scared?