Striker: Stowaway
A few days later on the planet Earth……..
The Predator ship, cloaked into invisibility, landed amongst the jungle terrain, crushing rock and tree beneath its metal shell. After a moment the invisible ship opened its landing ramp and several burly warriors, decked out in full armament, strode out of the ship and into the jungle. Each activated their camouflage and as shimmering wraiths they disappeared into the thick jungle beyond to begin the long awaited hunt. Hissing and groaning the ramp began to close to fully conceal the ship. But just before the mighty door could shut a little figure slid down the ramp and landed on the ground below. Then with a quick scrambling move the figure took off into the foliage opposite the path of the warriors. Silence.
……………………………………
Not so far away nearly 3 hours later…………..
"Dammit Mike! If you're gonna bet, then bet!" Sergeant Rick cursed munching on a thick cigar.
The platoon commander Mike stared at his cards stroking his black mustache, "Don't get your panties in a wad Sergeant. What's your rush anyway?"
Drawing deeply on the cigar the black Sergeant said, "My rush? Hell, I'm in a rush to leave this god forsaken post and get back to the States."
A tall, built Private named Hayes grinned, leaning back against his makeshift chair, "Amen to that Sarge. I haven't been laid in over two months…" his eyes averted to the field surgeon, Corporal Karin. "…think you could help me with that Kar?"
The red headed woman smiled coyly, "Sorry Hayes. Your fist will have to do you for the next few months."
Hayes and the other soldiers laughed, "Ouch! Damn! I thought the humidity was the only thing cruel in this place."
"Alright Rick. I'll see your three and raise you…seven." Mike stated with a confident smile.
The cigar stood erect between Rick's lips, "Why you…shit! I fold." Jake smiled triumphantly, laying down a simple pair of fives. Rick cursed some more.
Private Hayes snickered. Sergeant Rick might be hardnosed but he could never figure out if the commander was bluffing. Stretching, he stood in the canvas tent, "'Scuse me ladies…call of nature."
…………………………….
He'd run through the thick vegetation for hours searching for Flatheads. The male child had never seen a live Flathead in his life, only their skulls. From a young age he was taught about them and he knew Flatheads walked on two legs, they were highly intelligent but weak physically, and they were armed with all kinds of projectile-type weapons that by his kind's standards were primitive…but effective. Armed with a pair of daggers, a child-sized spear, and his own set of wrist blades the young male felt nothing but confidence. He wished he had some of the bigger and better weapons like throwing disks or shoulder cannon. However, young Predators didn't get those until much later in life. The child even had his own mask, but it wasn't technologically advanced like a true hunting mask. It was merely for show.
But he didn't care in the slightest. His overconfidence blotted out his obvious short-comings and disadvantages. He still couldn't believe how he'd managed to sneak aboard the hunting vessel and hide in an air duct for the trip undetected by anyone. The best part? He was finally hunting and no one knew! Though he knew he had to be careful for if he was caught, the punishment…unimaginable. Still his youthful ignorance and brash ego kept the difficulties out of sight and mind. Such as: How was he to get back on the ship? When would the ship leave? How was he going to explain the Flathead skulls he'd bring back? He didn't think about such things. All he had on the brain was: Hunt…Hunt…HUNT! As he made his way blindly through the trees and brush he heard sounds; sounds he'd never heard before. They were low and distorted…alien. Could those be Flatheads? He drew closer to the sounds, pulling a dagger from its sheath.
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Hayes trudged through the bushes away from the platoon's camp site. For months they'd been stationed out in the Brazilian jungle to fight a rebel uprising. He'd seen some action, but for a solid week they'd been ordered to hold their position and await further orders. None had come and now boredom and bugs was their enemy as they waited for word. The native-born Texan hated waiting around. But more than anything he hated being away from home for so long.
Finally he found a spot to relieve himself. Splaying his legs he unzipped and proceeded to relieve himself. As he urinated he heard a twig snap near him. Cautious, he finished his business and listened closely. Nothing. Then he saw the brush next to him stir. Backing up slightly he drew his sidearm and held it at the ready. He licked his lips nervously and edged toward the bushes, using the muzzle of the pistol to part the foliage. He saw nothing. Perhaps it had been a snake or something?
Suddenly something bit his left calf! Crying out in pain he reeled back half expecting to see a snake bite but…it was…a cut! Like, a knife cut. In his urgency to back away Hayes tripped over a raised tree root and fell hard onto his back. Involuntarily he pulled the trigger and fired the gun once. The gunshot drew shouts from his platoon of seven.
Hayes cursed, trying to sit up when suddenly a miniature figure leaped out of the bushes with a pair of deadly daggers in its hands! Gritting his teeth with a cuss, Hayes reacted quickly. Seizing the assailant's little cuffed wrists before the knives could impale his throat. Too shocked to believe what he was seeing, Hayes stared at the attacker. It was little; only the size of a child; roughly 3 ½ feet tall; but it was stronger than any child. The figure bore a metal mask with glassy eyes and swooping curves encircling the broad rounded forehead plate. Adorned in a kind of leather and metal set of shoulder pads, ankle cuffs, wrist gauntlets, and a mesh body suit complete with a loin cloth, the tiny aggressor looked like some kind of pint-sized gladiator.
Holding the shining daggers at bay, Hayes felt a foot plant itself into his chest, trying to put extra force into the blades as he pushed them closer to the man's neck. At the same time Hayes was attempting to point his pistol at the assassin, but couldn't get it to aim with the thing's one wrist in his hand as well. The little hands of the being were scaly and clawed. Not human but five fingered. A growl, much like a smaller dog would make issued from behind the mask as the attacker strained to stab him.
Finally gathering his wits, Hayes summoned his strength and easily threw the small monster off of him. The armored midget rolled but got up at the same time as the burly Texan. Hayes noted the little guy wasn't even half his size. He looked like a toddler in a costume! Raising his pistol halfway Hayes tried to aim at the creature but found its child-like size hindering. It didn't even seem like a fair fight.
However the mini assassin didn't seem stalled by the pistol or the size difference as he brandished his daggers with a hiss. Hayes noted the hair…dreadlocks…but not hair. The feet were clawed and irregular. Not human! What was it?
At that moment the rest of Hayes's platoon came crashing through the bushes and in no time they had the short-sized assailant surrounded. Noticing his predicament the mask turned from side to side rapidly holding his daggers defensively now. A threatening snarl of a hiss warned them…though it sounded rather comical.
"Hayes! You alright?" Commander Mike asked leveling his M-16 at the being.
The Private showed him the deep gash across his calf, "The little bastard cut me! Then he tried to stick those knives in my gullet!"
"Hell. Looks like a kid," a dark skinned soldier named Shayne noted easing his rifle.
"Well he ain't! Look at him! He looks like a lizard, reptile…thing." Rick growled spitting his cigar stub to the ground.
"Who gives a damn what he is! That little son of a bitch tried to kill me!" Hayes shouted making the surrounded creature turn quickly to face him. It continued to growl and hiss though his jerky movements conveyed his fear.
Mike watched the creature spin nervously, trying to defend itself on all sides with a pair of fancy bladed daggers. Other than the attire and weapons the little guy didn't seem threatening at all. Maybe its child-like size and appearance gave it that.
"Ease up troops. He's not going anywhere…don't need to panic him anymore than he already is."
Just as the soldiers lowered their weapons, the creature shrieked at Rick, charging with raised daggers! Reacting instinctually the black Sergeant swung his rifle butt and bashed the creature's arm. The blow was hard…perhaps too hard. Upon impact the child-sized being released the dagger in the afflicted limb and fell with a high-pitched shriek at Rick's feet. The terrible shriek died down and transformed into a plaintive mewling that clicked and undulated oddly, like a weird puppy's whimpering.
Karin lowered her gun and immediately felt pity for the poor creature holding its hurt arm. Her glare of ice struck her officer but she said nothing.
Mike said it for her, "Aww Hell Rick! Did ya have to hit 'im that hard?"
Rick sighed, "I didn't mean to hit him that hard. But he was going to stab me!"
Motioning to Karin, Mike ordered her to look at the creature's arm.
Handing her rifle to Shayne, the only woman in the platoon edged closer to the injured Predator child. It cradled its arm chirping peculiarly. At once its mask turned up at her and boldly it leveled the other dagger at her.
"It's ok…easy little guy…easy." Karin cooed putting her hands palms up in a non-threatening gesture.
He didn't understand her and kept pointing the vicious dagger at her. Kneeling a few feet from him, Karin made a motion to her own arm and then to his, "It's ok. I'm here to help you. Don't be scared. Put that down…I'll help your arm."
Still the blade made no sign of lowering. Karin sighed. He didn't understand her…or he didn't trust her. Probably both. She set her jaw stubbornly and decided to take a more direct approach. Perhaps he responded better to aggression so she used a gruffer tone.
She narrowed her blue eyes saying threateningly, "Alright. Put the knife down! Put…it…down…NOW!" Karin pointed at the knife and then to the ground to punctuate her words.
Much to her astonishment the dagger lowered and the masked face lowered in a cowed sort of posture.
Karin nodded, "Good. Good." Very slowly she edged closer and he attempted to raise the blade again, but Karin raised a hand and pointed to the ground, "NO! Put it down!" He did so more quickly.
"Hey, she did it." Private Shayne stated in admiration.
"Not yet. Still need to see his arm." Karin pointed out. She was now close enough to touch him, but also close enough for him to stab her. Holding out her hand she gestured to the knife, "Give me the knife."
He seemed to understand her gesture but instead he sheathed the weapon and clasped it into its holster. Obviously he was unwilling to give it up.
Karin shrugged, "Well…I guess it's a start." She made a gesture to her arm and then to his, "Let me see. Let…me…see your arm."
Slowly he began to understand and very cautiously turned so his injured appendage was facing her. Very gently Karin touched his arm and found it to be warm, soft, and lightly textured. He tensed but her gentility reassured him. His little arm was solid with muscle, but kind of chubby like most children were. Karin felt the bone and the creature growled, pained by her probing.
"Probably has a hair-line fracture in the humerous but a sling can fix that."
Mike nodded, "Alright…see if you can get him to the Medic Tent and rig him one."