All respective rights to the owners – I am not profiting from this work of fiction or own any of the characters save for the original ones created. – Yours Hopefully


Boarding

Alexa Woods, more commonly known by her colleagues as Lex, was sorting over the dilemma of her situation.

But the distracting noise of purring lapping at her ears fucked with her concentration something terrible. It muffled some after he had clamped his mask back over his face, sucking in the mix of air to feed lungs obviously starved of their proper intake after the extraneous activities.

Scar, her…she didn't have a word to identify him with. It was all too confusing. Lex shifted, easing herself away from his heat to rifle through his gear. They had been tangled up in the aftermath of their more visceral coupling – seed drying on their bodies and a twinge of a sore ache building in her sex. But like his blood, his other bodily fluid seemed to have some kick of healing effect as well.

She should've felt like a jackhammer just fucked her stupid. Instead, it was just a pleasant little ache with no damage to speak of. Her knees and some parts were scraped raw on the stone, but he fussed and hissed when Lex tried to smear them with more of his blood. Tall, dark and homicidal wanted her to keep some reminders of the wild night on the ice.

His masked face turned towards her, and like an irate jungle cat gave her a growl that warned her to be cautious. She picked up on his meanings quickly – more in synch with his body language than anything. Resuming her examination of what she could only define as some kind of shoulder cannon, she ruminated on the mounted gun set into the plated collar she'd handed over to Scar only a few long hours ago. It'd been the difference of getting them out of the pyramid alive.

The next item under examination was the wrist device that had replaced the one which had leveled the pyramid. This one came prepared for death – honorable suicide, as it was. And doubly prepared compared to his dead buddies.

Handling it with some delicacy – as she was still reeling from the fact that such a small device could total that much acreage – Lex toyed with a few of the panels until she had some sense of what the glyphic dashes meant. Numbers, letters. Their system of writing wasn't so dissimilar.

Scar kept an eye on her throughout the process, and a part of her was honored. He was letting her handle his weapons and gear obviously treasured beyond any sort of value to him. The difference between life and death in his line of work. Lex could sympathize – someone would fuck with her climbing equipment over her dead body. Especially an amateur with no knowledge of how to handle the item.

She set aside the wrist device and reached for her own combi-stick she'd dragged down here, the head of the xenomorph still resting beside it. The speared, flanged tail of the alien was taut and rigid against the staff – still functional enough to gut and tear. Lex placed it between the two of them, pointing at it and the oily skull sitting in the corner of the recess.

Scar trilled inquisitively. The woman decided words weren't quite enough, and she bent low over the spear between them with her hands clasped over her chest in a small salute. She felt his clawed hands coast over her shoulders before they were tilting her chin high, lidding his eyes at the sight of her face. A click and rasping sound filled the air before Lex realized he was speaking in syllabic words – something she couldn't comprehend, but the tone was one of respect and explanation. He knew her thanks, and was honored by her humility and skill in the hunt – or at least she thought he was.


He was fed up with not knowing what his ooman was thinking behind that still face. Usually you could tell with a Yautja – a flare of the mandibles, a crinkle in the broad brow. All of it added up to emotion. But this ooman was very good at masking them.

Scar had made up his mind about halfway through their coupling. It was an idea that he had entertained since the ooman female had the brash boldness to follow him and demand to pair up to hunt. The idea of keeping her.

It had been done before – the blooding of oomans. It was no crime, but instead frowned upon. Stigma typically came on the Yautja that blooded them with the mark, and they lost honor enough to pass as bad bloods. But in some clans, elders respected the blooding of a worthy hunter outside of their own race. His clan had long ago blooded an ooman male many life cycles ago, but even fewer oomans had actually lived in their culture.

Scar had decided to keep this female and court her for a life mate. He knew the elders would moan and shout about the absurdity, but it had been done before in their culture. A challenge was struck in him – to have the female as his and sire many strong young on her. To hunt with her until the Black Warrior came to claim them both for the u'sl-kwe.

The notion of another female, one of Yautja blood that could be mounted now with his new trophies…lost its appeal in the face of this small, lithe warrior.

Now it was just the bother of convincing her to come willingly.


Lex could definitely see the wheels turning in her companion's head. Frustration was twitching his tusks, and his brow creased in concentration as he stared her down. She snapped her fingers under his chin to bring him back from whatever pondering corner he was in, pointing outward at the maw of the recess and the sheets of ice trickling into the crag.

"We should go flag down your friends," she said, shuffling around until she was doubled down and crouching under the low ceiling. All that was left of any sort of covering on her were her panties – and in such a sorry state. They were soaked through with fluids and barely hanging by the elastic on her hips, the rest breezing by in shredded tatters from Scar's more enthusiastic clawing. Her bra met a similar fate.

Scar clicked in disproval, reaching for his gear to draw out some form of ceremonial drape folded in a pack. It was a rich red in some kind of fabric foreign to her – silky and heavy with characters spaced along the edges in scroll work. Obviously in his language. It swallowed her until he had her wrapped as tightly as a present in the improvised garment – covering her from head to toe in the wrap and then around her arms and head in a makeshift hood to shield her from the wind.

Lex scowled through all the fuss he put over her, trilling back in what she hoped was a bossy show. Scar got the point, spreading his hands and flaring his mandibles in irritation at her. Lex calmed. He was looking out for her. Nothing was left of her boots, so he eliminated the prospect of frostbite after he had geared back up by slinging her over his shoulder. Lex growled irately all through the climb up the ice wall – this time his hands catching onto a length of cable that had been sent down during their time in the small cave.

When they reached the top, Scar eased her back across his arms to hook one under her knees and around her waist, Lex supporting herself to sit up straight with an arm threaded around his neck. What she saw made her mind go slightly blank in wonder. It was a hulking, sleek ship spread out on the ice before them, ports opened to reveal a sterile, blinding light from within the vessel that pierced the gloom of the arctic night. Massive, it dwarfed even the pyramid's size in her eyes. Others like Scar were assembled – hauling out the kills from a newly fashioned hole drilled down to the remains of the cave to collect what was left after the explosion.

Another team was busy with the pit the queen's corpse had made with her acidic blood in the ice – a hovering winch and smaller vessel bringing her massive remains up and out of the ice to land across a platform readied to carry the trophy back to the ship.

The hunter hummed out another chuckle at her flabbergasted expression, tightening his hold on her as he ate up the ice with his long, even strides that took them closer to the ship. Lex could only keep her quiet, wary of the others that started to take notice of them both as they approached. They raised their clawed fists in a salute to Scar, but gave him puzzled looks about the human woman in his arms. Some of the males bore curiosity on their faces – others outright hostility. This could end ugly.


"C'jit! What the fuck do you carry, blooded?" snarled a male of the same age and rank – Pawal was fiery tempered at best, blood red fury to his cold steel as some of the elders called it. Impulsive.

"An ooman female. Obviously," replied Scar to his clan brother. Pawal roared in response, and Scar felt his bundle of female stiffen at the sound. He had to suppress a chuckle – she was not shrinking in fear, but puffing up in anger. She wanted to roar back, but lacked the concern as he did to engage this posturing male.

"I would speak with the elder, as is my right," said Scar in an even, clicking undertone. That got the honor guard sent out to receive him behind Pawal under control – if anything, it could be the elder's problem and not their own to deal with the situation. A pair split off to go loping back over the ice towards the ship.

The clan elder present at this trial was his mother's brother – honorable N'jal.

N'jal was many life cycles aged and bore the scars of many hunts won. Scar used to sit in the throng of his brothers to hear his mother tell tales of her honorable brother and his travels across the stars. Eventually, N'jal had reaped so many honors from his hunts that he grew tired of proving himself against countless opponents that sought him out to best him and gain all of his glory and trophies.

He retired as an arbitrator before he'd slain his third queen. That was when Scar's own father had been taken in the hunt by Cetanu* on some rocky world in an unknown system – thus N'jal had championed and claimed his vacated space as leader of Clan Dto-Vehn.

They numbered among the three largest clan of Yautja off of the home world – their clan ship and hunters the envy of most. For this Scar was proud.

N'jal made his slow, ponderous way out of the ship's portside bay onto the ice, the tail of his drape following in his wake. He felt Lex tense at the sight of the old Yautja, and reassured her with a gentle squeeze. No harm would come to this ooman.

"We will have to outfit this one with a translator, if she will consent," rumbled N'jal after he had reached the group.

Pawal, the fool, started to bark out a word of protest.

"Calm your rage, Pawal. My word is law," he said in a quiet, clicking tone at the blooded warrior that brooked no argument. Pawal slunk away with his head bowed towards the clan leader in deference, and N'jal rounded on Scar.

"Nephew, I have watched your trial and now elevate you to the honorable rank of the blooded. If not for the human, though, you would've had a different outcome. She is entitled to her honors with the kill as well as you are – in my eyes, both of you are blooded. Perhaps elite – no one has taken down an entire colony in a night." The rest of the honor guard punctuated the elder's statements with agreeing clicks and nods.

"Let alone with an under geared ooman for a hunt-mate," said one. Another piped up with, "And the lesser sex of their race!"

That had the group trilling in laughter until N'jal shut them up with a slow swing of his head that brought his stony gaze on the honor guard.

"Paya* take your brothers," said N'jal after a long moment. Scar bowed his head. Not much had been recovered, he had been told, save for their armor and weapons. The rest had been incinerated in the blast. Still, it would all be entombed alongside the bones of their father. N'jal clasped his hand onto his nephew's broad shoulder and shook him.

"You have honored them this night, Vra'jek."


The elder Yautja had blue dreads and obviously a deadlock over the balls of the younger one, Lex figured. Even Scar answered to this one – he had set her barefooted on the slick ice at a chirrup and bark from his senior.

Unexpected, he leveled his yellow eyes on her and went for Scar's combi-stick. It slid out with a slick, metal grind that was shrill in her ears. Scar bowed his head, tightening his grip on her shoulder briefly before withdrawing. Was this it? Were they going to silence her and dump her body over the ice to freeze?

Instead, Scar clasped her hand in his and held it aloft with long, rasping trills in his language. All paused in their work to watch, and Lex caught sight of a few Yautja popping out of the ship's ports to fold their arms and observe what obviously was becoming a ceremony.

Then the elder held the spear aloft, nearly shaking the ice with his roar. Scar followed, mandibles flaring as more males joined them in the long, bellowing howl that Lex was sure you could hear in Australia if you listened carefully.

At Scar's encouraging look, Lex tried out her own war cry to join the others. It was shrill, but she'd be damned to be a piss poor example of her race. So she howled with the rest of the primal aliens, and felt something wonderful at the raw feeling of spilling out the sound to the stars with them. Joining them in their unbridled feeling.

It died off, and the elder inclined his head to the pair of them. The combi-stick was retracted, and instead of returning to Scar he offered it out to her. Lex took it after a slight hesitation, thinking it would be bad form to refuse.

He bowed his great head at her in a gesture of benediction, turning on his heel with a flare of his ceremonial drape. The honor guard followed the elder back to the ship, slow and ponderous as the elder.

Everyone returned to the usual work – the fanfare over. The thrusters, or what she guessed were thrusters, whirled to life near the aft of the great ship. It was prepping for takeoff. Scar trilled at her, clasping her face between his massive fingers and fixing her with an intense look.

Pointing worked. First to her, then towards the ship. Finally the talon lifted high to point towards the stars. He gave her a linger touch on the mouth, backing off with the trepidation of a wounded animal before looking towards the portside opening blinding with light – closing slowly on the outside to narrow by the minute.

There was a moment where she looked out over the stark expanse of ice and night – the wastelands of earth. It was then that Lex grasped the feeling that had been wriggling around in her mind. She wanted to leave this place for good, and go beyond the reach of her own kind. Climbing a new height.

Her frizzled hair spilled over the drape as she tilted her head, peering up at the winking light of distant stars that pricked the heavens.

Those seemed high enough.


Translations

C'jit – damn, shit; general expletive

U'sl-kwe – final rest (death)

Cetanu – the Black Hunter, god of death Yautja culture

Paya – the conquering warrior, a god in Yautja culture