Still taking a break from Chosen. Have the next chapter pretty much written but there's something off about it and I can't bring myself to concentrate on it. I'll get there, just not today.
In the meantime I've been working on Pets on and off, and this chapter is a long one...consider it a formality before we get into the meat 'n taters of the relationship Synsen wants with his Pet.
Don't own the concept of Predator(s) and this story is rated Mature for excessive language (cussin') and high potential for naughtiness (sexin').
I had finally, successfully, completed my priority list when Synsen appeared. Number one was admittedly complex right off the bat: avoid head squishing, spaying and death in general. Number two: kill the mask. Number three: get the fuck home.
Okay, I admit it; the list was tentative and needed some minor kinks worked out. Plus I still hadn't worked out any actual actionable steps to achieve my goals, sort of like the old South Park episode with the underpants gnomes. Step 1: Collect underpants...Step 3: Profit. Ask them what step two is and they get all confused because none of them had figured it out yet. Yep, that about summed it up for me as well.
The plain fact of the matter was that all the things I'd decided were number one on my priority list involved me being able to either physically separate myself from Synsen permanently, or being capable of physically fighting him off. Soldiers are good at calculating odds, and I knew mine were, conservatively, less than good. Possibly even pathetically horrendous.
Would spaying really be that bad a thing? I wondered, prepared to cut deals with myself and make concessions. Wasn't like I'd ever planned on being a mom; I was notoriously bad at caretaking even plants, and the reason I kept fish as pets was because they didn't annoy me and could go without food for a few days. As long as a week, it so happened.
So okay, I modified my priorities to remove the prohibition again spaying, but head-squishing and death in general were still out. And right about then I realized that Synsen was still standing in the doorway to the bathing room or whatever the hell it was called. Staring at me. I restrained myself from checking behind me to see if hopefully he was directing that molten stare at someone else, knowing damn well that I was the only one in the bathing room.
Being that he was either a pervert or deliberately trying to make me uncomfortable, he was nude...again. Sucker was built like a brick shithouse, I'll give him that. And there was enough familiar going on with his physique from the neck down that it wasn't off-putting or disturbing to look at. Far from it, if muscles were your thing. For me, he was a taller and sleeker version of a former fellow soldier named Nubby. Nubby was stockier in build, the kind of guy who didn't have a neck to turn so he twisted from the waist instead, and who was incapable of pressing his own arms against his flanks because his lats were like wings. It was a necessity in his line of work, the heavy gunner for a mobile squad. He could carry and shoot a thirty three pound fifty caliber rifle all day long. Granted, it was on a pneumatic arm and strapped to his waist which offset some of the weight and recoil, but I sure as hell couldn't do what he did.
So, Nubby with another foot and a half of height, making Synsen much less blocky looking in build. He had no nipples, I suddenly realized, squinting. Oddly enough, that didn't make him look weird...or weirder, I should say. His pecs were massive couch pillows etched with the scratch-like scars of healed wounds. On top of the darkly drab but bold coloration of his skin, there was a lot of texture going on. A symmetrical bumpy roughness on his shoulders, on the outsides of his arms and legs and smattering more lightly along his inner calves, reminiscent of a young alligator's back. I knew that that texture spread along his back, sort of like his skin was more thick and dense in those places. His chest and abdomen were relatively smooth, the texture much finer to create a pebbling effect on his skin.
Funny...the muscle patterning on his belly sort of echoed the bumps and symmetry of his crest...minus the healing divots from the bullet holes. And lower there were no dangly bits like on a man. He looked like all muscle there too, everything tighter and far less...comical. It wasn't like he wasn't obviously male but his anatomy was sort of tucked in, no doubt better protected from something like a kick to the jewels. I knew, though, that with the right motivation - for instance an eight foot broad with horrendous PMS and a lot of teeth - the look of things could change drastically, becoming a lot less comical and a lot more intimidating. For now it was discreetly tucked and retracted, creating a prominent forward-jutting bulge just below the flat plane of his lower abdomen and nestled comfortably between his tree-trunk sized thighs, with just the tip of his glans exposed and surrounded by what I assumed were his testicles.
He was doing that raggedy-ass horror movie monster breathing, loud and measured as he continued staring at me. Since I knew he could be quiet about it I could only assume that meant something and I took it for warning.
"Whatever it is you're thinking of getting pissed about...I didn't do it," I informed him. I'd intended to sound firm but in my own ears I just sounded loud, in a way that came off defensive and scared instead of firm and defiant.
His breathing hitched and held before he issued a low rumble and started forward. Like a 1950's housewife, my mind actually said 'Oh, dear.'
While his approach wasn't directly threatening – believe me, there was a definite warning walk in his repertoire – his sustained stare and apparent tension were setting off my internal alarms. Not a few of them; all of them. The soothing effects of the tub I was still submerged in were negated and I started rapid-fire calculations, mapping out escape routes as I watched him come. He closed in only enough to reach the steps into the tub, then smoothly lowered himself into the water before settling on the far side to continue the direct stare.
"What?" I demanded. At least, I tried to demand but honestly it came out more like a whine. He settled a bit like he was getting comfortable while I rigidly maintained my place.
"Synsen Pet want ooman male?" he trilled, and I blinked.
"Whahuh?" I asked stupidly.
"To mate."
I blinked. "You have one?"
He chuffed: idiot. I set my jaw and narrowed my eyes: asshole. The tub hummed quietly, the water gently agitating and rocking me as I defiantly maintained my end of the staring contest and tried to figure out where the hell this was going all of a sudden. Do I want to get laid? Hell yes, but I wasn't about to admit that to him. At this point it was practically an emergency, which led me to actually not answer his question and left me waiting for more details. Was he thinking of kidnaping a man for me? On the one hand I was nuts enough to think, How nice. Better than Christmas. On the other hand I imagined Synsen staring at me while I was having sex, and that was enough to tone down my libido even now. And what about birth control? I was not interested in being Synsen's pregnant pet. Then how do I get the thing...the baby...outta there when the time comes? And who's gonna take care of it? Certainly not me; I wouldn't want to be in the same room with it. And didn't the act of having a kid stretch out your stuff?
The longer the quiet stretched, the faster the wheels in my head were spinning. I was picturing a laundry basket full of babies with price tags on them at a yautja flea market, all conveniently pre-tattooed with bullseyes on their foreheads. Synsen waiting avidly with a giant pair of forceps in his hand every time I went into labor, ready to salad-tong the thing out and toss it in the basket.
"No!" I barked abruptly. He grunted and finally looked away, turning and tilting his head. I heard a quiet, steady thrumming from him, a low hum similar to his contented purring when he settled into bed to sleep.
What the fuck? I asked myself for the millionth time, my nervous tension giving way to angry tension. I so did not get him. Not by a long shot, not even remotely. All this time and I still had no idea what the hell was going on, and now I was beginning to think he was wondering the same damn thing, trying to figure out what to do with me.
Annoyed, I huffed and hoisted myself out of the water, then walked around the tub toward the stack of hides set aside on a bench for drying. I kept my back to Synsen now, putting him on notice that he was the one being dismissed for once. I briskly dried off with the soft suede cloths, patting my hair down as best I could, then retreated.
The mask was gone. I took in its disappearance the second I stepped out of the bathing room, part of me looking for it cuz I was in the mood to break something. Thing probably had an app that could read my mind and had warned Synsen that I was plotting against it. Either that or it was capable of sprouting legs and scampering off to hide. I rooted around a bit, looking for it unsuccessfully before giving up.
My rising temper aroused my need for action but there was nothing suitable to take it out on. I needed to do something, preferably something that would contribute to any one of the items on my priority list. Now I was wishing I'd come up with at least one lousy action step. Since I'd lost my opportunity to kill the mask, I had escape and avoid left as priorities...and with that, I glanced at the exit door.
Okay, I was naked. The hides I had used to make myself decent were sweaty and there were eerie glowing greenish droplets on the one I'd used as a top. Snatching it up I looked closer and realized it was Synsen's blood. It gave me a little charge to see that and I smiled tightly; I'd gone mano-a-mano with a yautja and ended up wearing his blood and not my own. Hah.
Keeping my eyes on the door to the washroom, I struggled my way back into the top and bottom, working feverishly to secure them and make sure my bits were properly covered. I had a momentary thought, as I headed for the exit door, of wondering what I'd do if he'd locked it when I hadn't been looking, but that dissipated as it opened at my approach.
I hit the corridor at a brisk walk, holding back from outright running. Hopefully if I came across one of the others they would think nothing of me taking myself out for a stroll, but if I did it at a flat-out run they would know something was up. My eyes were wide open and searching the dimly-lit hallway, subconsciously timing the steady pulsing of the engines that seemed to keep pace with the ebbing and rising orangey light.
The interior of the ship seemed almost organic in design; instead of uniform square metallic plates creating square-shaped corridors and rooms, everything was slightly rounded. There were evenly spaced ribs along the walls of the hallway, and from between them came the source of the low light, like there was molten lava flowing just behind the walls. I suspected that was where the perpetual heat was coming from, too, but I wasn't about to go touching to find out.
Babies. One minute he's telling me he would like to fuck me, the next he's threatening to fix me, and the next minute he's thinking about using me to start his own puppy mill. His apparent fascination with my reproduction capabilities had severed my last thread of self-restraint and now it was full-on self-preservation. Something was up. What, I didn't know. Maybe he was getting bored with just having me around, and, typical of any male I knew, in his attempt to find another use for me the first thing that comes to mind is if and where he or someone else can stick it.
Hopefully we were heading back to the clan ship and he would resume having access to the honeys, which would get him off his fascination with my privates. Apparently the sonuvabitch couldn't go a week without. Huh; he should try going as long as he's forced me to go without. Asshole.
Subconsciously, while stewing, I was keyed in enough to my surroundings to avoid the areas that I assumed the others might be, like the kehrite and the eating area. If I thought I heard the rumble of voices I ducked and went the other way, keeping restlessly on the move, my eyes constantly searching. There were always options; I just had to find them. And even if Synsen appeared and dragged me back to his room and locked me up, at the very least I could tell myself I'd tried. Maybe I would even see an opportunity that I could act on later.
I found myself in uncharted territory as I cautiously paused where the corridor widened into a large round room. I couldn't see all of it because of the huge rectangular stone-looking columns rising from the floor to the ceiling ahead of me, and I took the time to look and listen before stepping forward. The ship thumped rhythmically, the orange-red-yellow light pulsed, and my nose detected a slightly acrid odor like bleach. The laundry room, I thought, then giggled quietly. I waited a bit longer, then stepped from the corridor into the room slowly, my head swiveling as I took it in.
Between the more widely spaced supporting ribs of the walls there were recessed alcoves here, and I paused at the sight of the bones on display. It was like a museum, one without rhyme or reason. The back wall of each recess was decked out in skulls, some bone-white, some gray, some almost like polished ebony stone. I stilled and stared, not quite able to believe what I was seeing at first, trying to make sense, once again, of a yautja's idea of interior decorating. It wasn't until my eyes came to rest on a collection of four human skulls that I snapped into action and went closer, part of me unwilling while my legs mindlessly churned through the knee-deep mist and relentlessly propelled me.
A grunt interrupted my hypnotic approach and I snapped out of it as movement to my side caught my attention. Otis. Clearly he had noticed me and was now staring hawkishly, his fierce eyes bright above his huge sagging lower tusks. In his massive hands was a comparatively small human skull, and while I stared back at him he turned away to an empty alcove, chose a metal spike sticking out of the wall, and jammed it on. I winced at the sound of metal grinding against bone as he pressed his thumb against the forehead to shove it back another inch. Apparently satisfied, he grunted again and turned back to look at me.
"Nice," I said meekly, then tore my attention off him to pass a glance around. So he was the decorator? I thought, taking in a bizarre array of skulls and aware that the only recognizable ones were the human ones. They were scattered around randomly like accent points, mixed with long ones, wide ones, tall ones, none of which I could rest my eyes on and definitively name the animal it had come from. Kind of over-the-top, if you ask me, though I was seeing a vague sort of pattern between the complex horns, spines, teeth and crenelations of the skulls with the randomly bizarre patterning of the ship's walls. Otis, the serial murdering interior designer, was probably expensive, judging by the effect.
Otis issued a trickling, ticking growl, then indicated the room with a sweep of his arm. "Not I tro-fee. Synsen tro-fee," he rumbled ponderously.
I blinked. "You mean these are real?" He cocked his head, long grey tresses sliding heavily from the back of his head. It communicated my stupidity to me as effectively as Synsen's chuffs did. I was getting tired of being so stupid. Pointing to the skull he'd just placed on the wall, I asked, "So that's real, then?"
He moved his head slightly to glance at what I was pointing at, then said, "My."
"Yeah okay, I get it." Annoyed now, I stepped across the large room, still pointing, moving closer to him. "That's real?" I demanded, unable and unwilling to believe it. No it's not, my mind insisted. He makes these things out of resin or something in his spare time. Thinks they're cool, like a twenty-year-old Goth pot head living in his parents' basement.
I skirted around him cautiously and boldly walked right up to tap my fingernail against the skull's dome a few times. It felt bony, but what the hell did I know? Looking more closely I saw the jagged seams around the crown, the excruciating detail of the finer bone structure, the tiny pits in the lower jaw, the missing molar, the sparkle of a silver filling in the adjoining molar. And suddenly I became aware of Otis standing next to me, way too close for comfort, raining heat down on me as his breathing roughened threateningly. I'd touched his stuff, which despite my disbelief was apparently the real deal, and now he was getting pissed.
My back rigid, I eased off slowly to put some distance between us. "Synsen pet. Synsen tro-fee," Otis rumbled, pointing to me then around the room. "Ne'hemikta tro-fee," he said, pointing to the skull I'd just molested.
"Oops," I said quietly, desperately trying to get a grip. There was a very angry and very large yautja in my face trying to lay out boundaries for me while reality set in. I stared docilely down at his odd clawed feet while my mind worked itself like a Rubix cube, rearranging, twisting here and there and coming up with new conclusions. Maybe what Otis was trying to tell me was that all these skulls were former pets of Synsen...maybe I was next.
Otis bashed me out of my developing theory by grabbing me by the face and forcing my head up so he could glare down into my eyes. His hand was huge, and the mental image of how small the skull had looked in it flashed through my mind. He effectively muzzled me, big thumb laid strategically and a bit painfully over my right cheekbone while the rest of his fingers spanned from my left cheekbone to below my jaw, then tightened to press the points of his claws against my skin. 'Oops' had apparently not been adequate apology and groveling for him. My eyes widened as he bent to lower his ugly face closer to my own, mandibles spreading as he growled quietly.
There was a bark and Otis stopped his building, threatening looming and turned his head, his growl increasing. I flicked my eyes sideways and could barely see Synsen at the edge of my limited vision, standing there dressed, for once, his tresses flared and his fists clenched. Then Otis shoved me back roughly and I staggered to keep my balance, my arms windmilling comically. I whacked my hand on one of the unadorned metal spikes before crashing to the floor and scattering the damp mist, then I scrambled back and regained my feet. Yautja-to-yautja it had probably been a pretty gentle push, but Otis had better than two hundred pounds on me and was built like Baby Huey, too strong for his own good. My jaw hurt, my hand hurt, my ass hurt. That was on top of my already aching shoulder; I'd had my fill of being brutalized today.
I put some distance between myself and Otis, aware that the two of them were silently staring at each other now. Moving further into the room had only brought more skulls to my awareness and the sudden, unpleasant realization that I was literally surrounded by them. Something clenched in my chest, a welling sensation of panic, a building need to get the fuck out. I stilled, though, when my eye caught on a recess filled with...it took a moment to make the connection...yautja skulls. Big knobby crests, spread bony mandibles tipped with fang-like tusks, small lower jaws lined with fearsome sharp teeth. I blinked and took them in, seeing the variations in the adornment of spines, crest size and bony protuberances, making a rapid connection having to do with age. Synsen and Otis both had a lot going on head-wise; all the greys did when compared to the younger warriors. The skulls on Synsen's wall showed me that the spikes and lumps weren't surface skin features: it was as if their bones continued to calcify throughout their lives, adding layers, building and growing more prominent adornments. Clearly he wasn't a baby-killer or whatever his kind called it, though why he was killing anybody, monster, human or yautja was beyond me.
Motherfucker is running around just killing everything and one, and apparently not bothering to hide that fact, I thought. That did not bode well for me, though it made me wonder why the hell I was still alive. Couldn't be that he had a higher tolerance for me than anyone else, seeing as I pissed him off fairly regularly.
Otis rumbled, the sound resolving into ground-out words with harsh pauses. Synsen said something back, equally deep and threatening-sounding. They both were rigidly posed and eerily still. Definitely struck me as a sort of 'caught you touching my stuff' kind of altercation. So long as they were occupied with each other, I figured it was time to excuse myself so I slunk back, spotted an exit, and disappeared.
I was bleeding, now that I took the time to perform a self-inspection. Hand and face, apparently. Wasn't too bad but the cuts throbbed in time with my heartbeat, which seemed to sync itself to the steady beat of the engines and lights. That didn't help me shut the pain of my injuries out of my conscious awareness, and it hurt too much to clench my jaw in annoyance.
Agitated, I moved full-circle around the ship, ending up back in the round skull room. Otis and Synsen were no longer here and I had the sense that my captor was probably looking for me. Hunting me. My eyes came to rest on the huge stone pillars and followed them up to the domed ceiling that pulsed with light like the walls. There was a ledge around it with mist spilling over the lip here and there. Probably from vents, I supposed ...vents...
An idea for achieving an action step in my priority list popped into my head: avoid and escape. I picked out the pillar nearest the lip then circled it, studying the carved designs on all sides to find the easiest path up. Finding a likely route, I paused long enough to flex my hands and shoulders, take a quick glance around to make sure I wasn't being watched, then I clambered up. Slipped once or twice but recovered successfully to gauge a way to transfer from the pillar to the maybe two-foot high gap between the lip and the ceiling. I could see now that there were vents, rounded of course, and every other one was spilling that wet mist. There was plenty enough room for me to squeak my way into a non-misting vent so I could oonch my way to a hiding place that Synsen had no hope in hell of getting to.
I patted myself on the back mentally for my pure genius, balancing on the pillar and reaching for the lip. I managed to catch hold and paused long enough to catch my breath before swinging my weight over and clambering up. I was grinning fiercely, flush with success, taking a second to decide which vent was most likely to bury me in the bowels of the ship, then entered it.
It was plenty roomy enough for me to creep along comfortably and not feel claustrophobic, slightly wider than it was high and keeping to a squat rounded shape. Plus, there were options, and I loved options. Connecting vents off to either side at fairly regular intervals, assuring me that if I needed to back out I wouldn't have to oonch too far to get to a place where I could turn myself around. I needed to do that fairly early on, as I came across what looked like a tube of magma bisecting the tunnel I was in. I stared, debating, calculating that I could probably squeeze beneath it, but in the end I didn't have the guts to touch it and see if doing so would hurt. Even from a distance I could feel the intense heat blowing my way so I took the wiser route, backing out and choosing a different vent.
I worked my way through the vents, my shoulder giving me grief while I explored. Every so often there was a mesh grate that not only added light but allowed me to check my progress and see what room I was in. I not only needed a mental map of the network of vents that were passable, but I needed to have a way to quickly pop out to grab food or water and get right back in without getting caught or finding myself unable to dart back into hiding. To that end, I spent hours creeping along on my forearms and toes, finding the private quarters, the kehrite (here the ceiling was too high for me to successfully be able to drop out and grab a weapon or two), the food storage area, all circling around the trophy room.
Eventually I stopped to rest, comfortably positioned dead center of a T-junction with another vent entrance straight above me, giving me multiple options and directions for a quick escape if I needed it. Body aching from awkward exertion and my busy mind tired, I rolled onto my side and gave myself permission to take a break. The vents, I was convinced, had been a lucky find, giving me control over my fate and future. Not that I was entertaining thoughts of living in them for decades like a crafty mouse, darting out at night to steal food and water; it was the knowledge that I was out of Synsen's reach that thrilled me. Even if I died in here I would get my revenge on the bastard, hopefully stinking up his entire ship and making it uninhabitable. Guaranteed he would never think to return to earth and snatch another female to try again after a debacle like that, and that thought gave me some margin of pride.
He had insulted her, Synsen realized as he thrummed instinctively to soothe her sudden show of temper, ducking his head and looking away as she barked at him in response to his question. He had fairly well settled himself into the decision to give her to his clan's research division, creating a firm separation from the temptation she presented. Her upcoming heat cycle would no doubt be as alluring to males of her own kind as to him, and she would be far more willing to breed with one of the soldiers than with him.
Therefore her angry refusal came as a shock, and made him aware that she had been insulted by his asking if she wanted to mate with a male of her species. It reminded him that she had made her decision and chosen him, and his question had been disrespectful to her. Despite the fact that she was a mere ooman pet, instinct had driven him to respond to her temper as he would to a show of temper from one of his own kind's females, immediately looking away and purring low in hopes to mollify her and communicate that insult had not been intended.
He was unsure if the tactic worked on her, though she had ceased, glared at him a moment, then exited the bathing pool. He watched from the corner of his eye as she dried her soft skin and left the room, leaving him alone. It was hard for him to say with any certainty that his response had been the correct one, as his purr trickled to a stop and was replaced by the quiet hum of the agitators churning the viscous liquid in the pool.
While she might be his pet and his to do with what he wanted, what he was considering was a complicated thing. More so, now that she had made her wishes clear to him. It was not in the nature of his species to force a female or to take the initiative with one, but while she desired him she had a habit of issuing invitation and taking it away. Her mating rituals were different, then. She pretended indifference to her heat cycles and made no attempts to seek him out for relief during them. She protested his every attempt to handle her and yet had not only risked her life to secure his freedom from capture, but had issued blatant invitation while at the same time attempting to deny his rightful retaking of possession of her.
It wasn't even necessarily her behavior that distressed and annoyed him; it was his uncertainty regarding her. And while on the one hand he was well within his rights, on the other hand he was restrained by the simple fact that he had never taken the initiative with a female before and was unsure how to go about doing such a thing. He had observed other creatures' mating rituals and watched the displays and dances of the males, used to attract females and put them in mind for breeding, and it had fascinated him.
Still, there was one universal truth to the matings of most creatures: the females made the decision with whom to mate. All males clashed and competed on some level to earn the right, to prove potential. Those at the head of any herd, harem or flock had to fight off other males to keep it, and most seasonal breeders battled for the right to a prime territory that was most likely to attract a female. There was a planet where the number of males vastly outnumbered females, where mating rituals involved taking aggressive possession of a female even against her will, then being forced to fight all comers in order to keep her long enough to not only forcibly breed her but give her time to gestate and whelp young. As the highly aggressive males made for good sport, his clan and many others had sizable populations of females in their possession, used to lure males in for unBlooded training hunts. Synsen had long suspected that the imbalance of the sexes and the extreme aggression of the males was probably due to the influence of his own kind over untold centuries.
Oomans, on the other hand, were oddly secretive about their breeding habits, as if it was a shameful thing to mate. Males and females kept mixed company with little conflict and unclear boundaries and leadership. Synsen mulled over what little he knew, then decided that he could probably gather the information he needed from the files that had been sent to him. And with that thought in mind, he exited the bathing pool, dried himself off, and entered his quarters.
His pet wasn't here. He checked the bedding, then noticed that the small pile of hides she used to cover herself were gone as well. He had, he realized, forgotten to secure the exit door, and apparently the clever female had taken advantage of his lapse.
He dressed quickly and exited his quarters, upper tusks raised as he drew in deep breaths to find and follow her scent trail. It wasn't hard to do, as she was wearing hides she'd dampened with her sweat, then he headed out after her. And when he found her it was not only in a room in his ship he had carefully avoided introducing her to, she was currently under Ne'hemikta's control.
At once, he felt a sense of possessiveness well up in him, a feeling as if Ne'hemikta was boldly stealing his prey right out from under his tusks and trying to claim it for himself. His immediate response was a blatant, challenging bark directed at the Ancient, and a welling sense of outrage that Ne'hemikta had dared to attempt such an unacceptable breach of etiquette while a guest in Synsen's territory. Synsen registered his pet's fall as Ne'hemikta shoved her away but kept his full attention on the other Arbitrator, bristling with threat and warning.
Rumbling with his own warning, Ne'hemikta said, "You should teach it proper manners so it knows better than to touch another's trophies without permission."
Synsen's attention flicked to the once-empty section of trophy wall beyond the other Arbitrator and saw the single skull that now adorned it. Briefly he recalled Ne'hemikta's delighted toying with one particular soldier, the one they'd decided was the leader. He'd not only been well armed but heavily armored, and while the Ancient pursued him through the ooman facility the rest of them had split forces to concentrate on eradicating the rest. Synsen hadn't taken any trophies, going so far as to destroy the skulls of his kills as if to deny himself the opportunity to have second thoughts. While Ne'hemikta had enjoyed himself on this ooman hive cleansing, Synsen had gone in with more of an efficient business-like mindset, moving almost by rote, maintaining his stealth and focusing on just getting it done. He had, after all, been distracted lately by a female of the very species he was culling at the moment, part of him even then subconsciously on the hunt for another female. Not to take but to encounter so he could compare their behavior. Though he was a veteran of being shot at by ooman males, his pet was the first female to raise a weapon against him, and now he was wondering if all were so enticingly vicious.
The empty part of the trophy wall on his ship had stayed that way and become the location for the temporary placement of guest trophies, hung and displayed with pride until their owner returned to his own ship and took it with him. Synsen glanced at his pet, now wondering why, of all the trophies in the room, she had chosen to touch Ne'hemikta's. Was she indicating that she had chosen another male? He had to think so, since the room boasted many ooman skulls, as well as those of far more dangerous prey. There could be no other reason for her to show more interest in Ne'hemikta's single ooman skull than in his own impressive and vast collection.
His realization deflated his possessive aggression, leaving him uncertain once again. And once again, his pet's behavior confused him and contradicted his assumption as she quietly exited the room, leaving him and Ne'hemikta still standing off with each other. Choosing, then rejecting. Indicating interest then losing it.
"I will teach her," he rumbled now to Ne'hemikta. "And you will follow your own advice."
The Ancient chuffed, both mollified as Synsen backed down and rebuked as he was called out for touching another's trophy without permission himself. "Chi'kal-de tells me you made him apologize to it," he growled.
Synsen narrowed his eyes. "It pleases me. He had no right to put her in danger. Neither did you."
"It's not wise to drag such a thing around and call it a pet. It will distract you. Get a proper pet, a scenting beast to help you track. Paya knows you have enough room for it, even two or three," he suggested, with a vague wave of his arm. Another thing that seemed to annoy Ne'hemikta was the size of Synsen's cruiser; he saw it as unnecessarily large and overly extravagant, since he himself kept a simple single-occupant cruiser that didn't require a separate drop ship for terrestrial excursions. Ne'hemikta was a purist, taking pride in his minimalist nature as if it were a badge of honor. The size of Synsen's personal vessel was the main reason the rest preferred to use his ship for their post-mating-season group hunts. The Ancient tended to view it as Synsen's way of showing off and bragging; Synsen viewed it as ensuring his own comfort. He traveled far and wide and was ready to face the gods on behalf of his clan's honor; he deserved to indulge himself and the smaller personal cruisers made him feel confined and agitated.
Synsen snorted. "I don't need scent beasts to help me hunt."
"Well what do you need an ooman female for?" Ne'hemikta pounced.
Caught out, Synsen hesitated, then gathered himself. "Relief of tension...pleasure...freedom from limited seasonal mating opportunities," he said evenly, quoting the records of the Arbitrator who had listed the benefits of taking an ooman female as a pet. Ne'hemikta's eyes widened.
"You are rutting it, then," he realized.
Synsen chose not to correct him. And to his surprise, instead of leveling scathing condemnation and accusations, Ne'hemikta just shook his great head and walked away as if his arguments and objections were nullified by Synsen's blatant admission.
Still, the fact remained that he needed to find her and clarify his suspicion that she had chosen him as a breeding partner. He returned to tracking her by scent, following her wandering course through his ship and back into his trophy room. Here her scent was strong and he circled, looking, listening and smelling, until he ended up standing beside a religious pillar and staring up as realization set in. Apparently his pet had climbed up a very old, very sacred and very rare relic, from there entering into his ship's ventilation system. Why, he couldn't fathom. Perhaps her intentions with soliciting Ne'hemikta and now secreting herself away were to punish him. Her heat cycle would begin soon and Synsen well knew that the accompanying hormonal surge was capable of creating extreme mood swings in a female. Every male pup's initiation into being sent to begin training as an unBlooded began when his bearer went into her first heat after weaning him.
He circled the pillar a few times, debating. Provided she steered clear of the heating elements that carried molten plasma from the engines throughout the ship, didn't enter any of the nitrogen vents and managed to avoid getting herself trapped...that was a lot of 'ifs'. He grunted and walked briskly toward his ship's bridge, mentally rerouting the flow of gases and superheated plasma in his mind so that when he arrived he was prepared to move quickly. He shut down entire sections of ventilation, tapping buttons that triggered vents to close down in an attempt to barricade his pet and corral her in a relatively small area. Another day and the others would be back on the clan ship. He would leave his pet to her hiding game for now and take the opportunity to educate himself on whatever wisdom the records had to impart to him regarding her kind. And after, he would finish the job of hunting and taming her.
I woke abruptly to a loud sound and a slight shivering sensation, my eyes snapping open before my brain even realized I was conscious. I remained perfectly still, holding my breath, taking a few seconds to remember where I was then doing a physical inventory while I mentally replayed the sound I thought I'd heard.
The drop ship, it occurred to me. I remembered where I'd heard that sound before and what it had meant. They were leaving? Was I here alone now?
No matter what it meant, there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it right now. I let out the breath I'd been holding and started a slow fully-body stretch, aware by my sheer overall stiffness that I'd been asleep for awhile. It felt like heaven, to be honest; I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept until I couldn't sleep anymore. I worked out every muscle in my body in languid slow motion, my movements only limited by the height and width of the vent I was in, then followed it up with a good general scratching wherever necessary. Finished with that, I decided it was time to get something to eat.
Took me a moment to orient myself and map out a route in my head, then I backed up a bit and clambered into a lower vent to make my way to the place where the food was stored. Cautiously, I slowed my rapid movements as I closed in on the grate positioned in the center of the room, going into stealth mode just in case there was still someone here. Logically, regardless of the fact that Synsen hadn't managed to find me yet, he knew I was still on the ship. On the one hand I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to teach me a lesson by leaving me here alone, but on the other hand...on the other hand I couldn't help but feel that that lesson wasn't going to be delivered so lightly.
Food had been left out. I noticed it the second I peered through the tight dark mesh of the grate. Not just any food, but a deliberate assortment of pet food: some meat, some cut fruit, thick slabs of dark bread and a bowl of stew, a small pile of greens that had been boiled down to make them more palatable and easier to eat. It was a veritable feast laid out on a tray and carefully set smack-dab on the huge table directly below the ventilation gate in the center of the room.
Bait. Damn him. And apparently he was well aware of my hiding place. Though it was temptingly set out and seemingly unguarded, I would have to make my way over to the grate above the cabinets against the wall in order to get down, cross the room to the food, then climb the cabinets back to the reachable grate to go back into hiding. And Synsen could be anywhere.
Then again maybe it's not bait, my stomach tried to reason as I stared, maybe it's a peace offering?
Peace offering my ass, logic insisted.
Still staring, I thought it over. So okay, he's put me on notice, then: I know where you're hiding and you gotta come out of there and eat eventually. Thing was, I didn't; I could start starving myself anytime. Might as well start now. And now, just as payback for this cruel trick he'd pulled, I was going to use the vents over his quarters as my personal toilet before I starved to death. With any luck, there was a grate positioned directly over his bed.
I backed out of the food area and continued my exploration, making my second unpleasant discovery. Some of the vents were blocked off and I could have sworn I'd crawled through them the day before. After awhile of painstaking oonching and backtracking I was sure of it; now I was unable to access the personal quarters. I tried accessing lower and higher levels, feeling turned around and considering the possibility that I was completely lost as I made my way along a corridor, using my forearms and my knees.
Some inner sense was triggered and I stilled, shut my mind down, and listened. There was nothing, over the throbbing of the engines, the ticks of the metal around me, the whispery hiss of the ventilation system. It didn't matter that there was no sensory clue to back up my suspicions; the primitive cavegirl part of me insisted something was wrong, and I didn't need to think very hard to come up with what it might be. Synsen. I hadn't seen hide nor dreadlock of him since he'd confronted Otis but common sense dictated he wasn't sitting around on his ass waiting for me to give myself up.
The odd orangey light coming through the nearest grate was mottled as it pulsed, not giving away any shadows or movements. My nose was filled with the scent of ozone and metal and the faint scent of my own sweat and leather from the hides I was wrapped in. The fine hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I wondered if Synsen could smell me, and I thought: Probably. Like a fucking bloodhound. And the longer I stayed in one place, the more my scent would give my location away, I suspected.
Carefully, I eased myself up off my belly and started forward, my movements delicate. There was a sudden, tremendous bang as the floor of the vent in front of me dented upward a foot from my face, and my eyes went wide as I took in the distinctive fist shape and the two huge knives spearing upward to the roof of the vent. It was then, in that instant of total, horrified silence, that I heard a distinctive and familiar ticking that sent a sensation like a wave of ice through my veins.
Staying heroically silent I started to ease back. There was a horrific metal on metal scrape as the blades retracted and I stilled, then there was another bang from right behind me that sent me as far up on my hands and knees as the height of the vent would allow. I imagined that the business side of those blades were an inch from my backside and I came close to peeing myself, then heard Synsen's low and slightly muffled trill of amusement. No doubt he knew my goose was cooked as well as I did.
The fact that he had the unmitigated gall to find this entertaining squirted some life back into me and brought my rational intelligence back online. My eyes darted as I maintained my end of the standoff, hoping he wouldn't decide that this would be even funnier if he managed to stab me in the ass, then I settled my attention on the grate ahead. Just above it was the opening of another vent, one that would take me into a higher network of tunnels and probably - hopefully - out of his reach.
I drew in a deep, quiet breath and darted forward, scrambling over the huge dent left by his fist, hearing the shriek of metal behind me as he reacted and sure he was fixing to try and cut me off. I hadn't anticipated that he'd be willing to blithely trash his own stuff while toying with me; lesson learned.
I didn't hear a sound from him as I closed in on the junction; then again I was pretty much thundering like a sizable herd of miniature African elephants through the ventilation system. The grate on the floor ahead of me, which I knew was a heavy sonuvabitch, banged upward hard enough to hit the roof of the vent and clang noisily over onto its side, and I reared up into the T as Synsen's hand reached up. I got my upper body into the vertical shaft and stood, then felt his hand brush my leg before snapping closed around my calf. I tugged, using my arms to brace and wedge as hard as I could against the narrow walls on either side of me, but Synsen held firm. There was a shitload of noise going on below me and I took advantage of the fact that he wasn't dragging me out ass-first by getting a bit higher...then made the mistake of looking down as I tried to kick his hand off my leg.
The blades attached to his wrist gauntlet had made short work of the vent all around the grate opening, carving through it like butter to widen it, and he was in the process of bending the metal downward after cutting it apart. Shit had to be a half inch thick and he folded it back with ease, like it was cardboard, while the metal issued a tortured groan. While he had been busy with that he'd held onto me; now his grip tightened and he pulled. The breath I'd taken exploded outward as I fought to pull myself up and away to no avail, hanging on for a few seconds as the amount of downward pull on my leg successfully tore me out of the vent. My formerly dislocated shoulder screamed but I didn't; I let out an enraged roar as I resisted and fought back, at the bruising grip of his hand, at the sensation of his claws digging into then piercing my skin, as my strength failed and I slipped out of my hiding place and my brain screamed because once again, I lost and Synsen won.
He arrested my high fall by catching me then swiftly dumping me to the floor. Panting, I groaned and rolled to my back to find him staring down at me through the eye holes of his fucking mask. He ticked rapidly, then lifted his head and looked up at the mess he'd made of his ventilation system. Fuck me. The vent I'd just been in was just above his head height and therefore well within his reach. Once again I'd miscalculated and Synsen hadn't hesitated to take full advantage of my dumbassery. I had to wonder if the sonuvabitch was ever off his game.
With a low growl, he lowered his head and looked down at me again. "What?" I demanded, defiant and pissed, more at myself than at him. He was what he was, a lethal and destructive monster, and I was just the vermin blocking up the works in his crib. "I didn't do that; you did," I snapped, lying on my back and pointing up at the ductwork he'd destroyed. The growl cut off and something nudged me from underneath. Oh great. I was lying on his feet.
"Up," he rumbled, drawing the word out with what sounded like delicious anticipation. He made no move to step back and give me space, leaving it to me to roll to my hands and knees then climb to my feet, hitching the pained groan that wanted to come out. At this point there wasn't much left of me that wasn't hurting.
The second I worked myself up to fully upright status Synsen's left hand shot out and folded tightly under my jaw, forcing my head back. His thumb swiped back and forth over the symbol he'd carved into my cheek, his big black meathook of a claw passing over my eyeball. I let out a breath through my nose and held still; vast personal experience had taught me that trying to struggle would be a waste of time and energy, only to ultimately result in a far tighter grip. I couldn't help but notice the twin tips of a pair of wrist blades retracted into the gauntlet over the back of his left hand, and my eyes switched to see his right hand, where he had always worn the wrist blades. There was another gauntlet housing the blades there, too. He'd come fully prepared to carve my ass out of the walls of the ship with both hands.
"Not be long, Pet," he rumbled. I stiffened.
"What won't be long?" I mumbled, his hand still wrapped snugly beneath my jaw, his fingers wrapped around my cheeks.
"You," he said, then made a curt motion with his head upward, lifting and jerking his chin toward the destroyed ductwork. "Not be long there."
I blinked, deflated, then giggled as I realized what he was saying. Silly me, I'd thought for a second there that he was telling me I wouldn't be in the land of the living much longer. Instead, he's telling me I don't belong in the ventilation system.
He rumbled, a throbbing baritone vocalization that reverberated in my bones, then he released my face. I was relieved for all of three seconds until his hand closed in the length of my hair and he turned and headed out. I scrambled to keep my feet, my chin tucked and turned to the side as he moved rapidly, not letting up until he tugged me closer, let my hair go, then shoved me toward the table in the food room. The tray was still there, still strategically placed beneath the grate a good ten feet above the table. Synsen reached easily across and slid the tray to a spot right in front of a chair, then looked at me.
"Eat."
I scowled. First of all, I should have stayed in this room the second I'd spotted the tray from the vent above. Would have been out of his reach here. And now I was wondering if he'd set the food out to give me the opportunity to be a good girl and come out of hiding on my own.
Moot point now either way, but Synsen didn't hold grudges. I was starving and wasted no time in practically diving face-first into the stew, keeping tabs on Synsen as he removed his mask and set it aside well out of my way. He flexed his mandibles silently like he was stretching them, then went to an insulated cabinet that kept food cool, withdrew a bowl, shoved it into the yautja version of a microwave to heat up the contents, and stood at the counter to pick out chunks of meat, eating while he watched me.
I had some of the meat and vegetables, as aware of the fact that I was under steady surveillance as I was of the fact that there wasn't much I could do about it. Felt ominous, though. I wondered about the drop ship that I thought I'd heard, that had woken me up, and I supposed that the others might be gone, leaving me alone here with Synsen.
That would mean we were within reach of the clan ship, right? I thought. So why was Synsen still here?
To get me out of the vents, I supposed. But then why didn't the others wait until he did that? Had I known we were that close to returning to the larger ship I might have bided my time, but the sonuvabitch had gotten under my skin. I would think he'd be just itching to get back there and resume strutting his stuff in front of the ladies, but he actually seemed to be pretty relaxed and laid back.
Now that didn't make sense, I thought, and furrowed my brow as I snuck a glance at him. He was holding a piece of meat speared on his dexterous mandibles, biting hunks of it off and bolting it down efficiently. When he caught my eye he stilled, staring, then he rumbled and resumed eating.
Something was up, no two ways about it. Put off, I reached for the heavy tankard of water on the tray and misjudged, brushing it with my fingertips. Suddenly out of sorts, I went still and realized I was sorta seeing double. Small wonder; I was tired, exhausted actually. Shit was catching up to me.
On my second try I successfully wrapped my hand around the heavy cup and got the water to my lips, then sucked it down thirstily. Despite Synsen's rude staring I felt myself settling and relaxing and I paced myself methodically as I kept eating. The leafy greens were too much work so I gave them up after a few pieces and went back to the meat. I tore chunks off the bread and dipped them in the stew, fumbling here and there until it finally dawned on me.
This time when I looked at Synsen, he paused in bolting down the meat in his mandibles, then quickly finished it and set the remainder in the bowl aside as he straightened and stood up from his lean against the counter. And that was all it took to confirm that the lethargy descending over me wasn't because I was really just tired and worn out.
"Oh, you dirty pool playing motherfuck," I muttered, slurring a little.
The food had been bait. Had I taken it and climbed out from the vents to scarf it down, no doubt he would have left me in peace to eat it. Now that I was aware of what was happening, the process seemed to be accelerating. I roughly shoved the tray back and shot to my feet, feeling the ship lurch alarmingly around me as my vision tripled, then quadrupled. Four Synsens. God help me. I scrambled back as they picked up their bowls and returned them to the coolers, all of them chirring softly in amusement, the sound blending and mixing together. The chair I'd been sitting in almost took me out as I backpedaled, and some part of me was aware that I was gonna have a beaut of a bruise on my hip though right now I was feeling no pain.
"Should not standing, Pet," the four Synsens said in unison as my eyes flicked between them. I wasn't sure if this was a side effect of whatever he'd done to my food or if it was another of his magic tricks, like the disappearing act he could pull at will.
You would think I'd have long since learned to take his advice to heart, but nah...I'm stubborn that way. When I picked out a Synsen to square off to and started unleashing a litany of curses, all four Synsens looked to their right, putting me on notice that I wasn't facing any of them and apparently cursing out the cabinets. I blinked hard and regrouped, successfully reducing the number of Synsens to two. And right about then the wisdom of his advice to sit down kicked in on cue and the fuzziness in my feet crept up my legs until I lurched to keep my balance, alarmed at the sensation, and I crashed onto my ass. Again.
Synsen chuffed. "Got you good, Pet."
I was addled and it took me a minute to remember saying that when I'd mocked him for getting shot with a tranq dart. I just knew that was bound to come back and bite me on the ass. Yautja were sore losers and even worse winners, bloated to bursting with arrogance and self-confidence. To them, everything and everyone else either disgusted them with incompetence or offered enough of a challenge to be found deserving of their mocking and derision. "Fuck you!" I shouted, and Synsen made a chirp sound, his mane flaring. Uh-oh...
"Sei-i. Later," both of them growled.
I sputtered. "Oh yeah? I'm not ugly enough for you! And there aren't enough witnesses here for you to be able to get it up, you exhibitionist freak! Fucking biting motherfucker – you eat food with those things, too? That's disgusting! You kiss your mother with that mouth?"
I jarred to a stop, aware that both Synsens were starting to morph into a third, and all were staring steadily down at me with heads cocked like curious dogs. I'd said something stupid and even I knew it, but what it had been, I didn't know. All I did know was that things in my head were getting very mixed around and I'd completely lost my train of thought. I applied myself to trying to get back to my feet while they watched silently, then gave it up as my numb limbs seemed to not be under my control, sort of flopping around comically.
Eventually my body gave it up and I flopped bonelessly with a small, almost nervous giggling. That knocked off when a single very large Synsen loomed over me and sank into a crouch, hot fingers and thumb closing around my cheeks. I was panting from exertion, and now I struggled to maintain focus.
"Not should fight it, Pet. Sleep now. Save strength for Synsen."
I might not have had enough juice left to power my body but there was enough left for me to back-talk. "You're an asshole," I mumbled, directing the insult to him and his mask as both leered down at me. "Fuckin'...I saved your bacon. Should have let me go..."
"Pet," he said in his ponderous voice, rocking my head side to side gently. "Live or die?" he trilled.
I scowled up at him and tried unsuccessfully to shake his hand off my face. It was an excellent question but one I was in no condition to contemplate right now. He waited silently, holding my face while I tried to find the right words, aware that this was important. I wanted to say that I wanted to be returned to my home to live out my life, but all that came out was a weak, "...live..."
Synsen, looming over me, began to issue a warm, steady rumbling sound. "N'got, Pet," he said through it, over it, around it. "You will submit to Synsen."
It wasn't like I had much choice but to submit to Synsen, and wasn't that what I'd been doing all along? Except for the part where I climbed into the ventilation system, I mean. But god, he dictated practically every minute of my life since he'd ceased trying to crush me on Navassa Island and had instead gone on a hunt for proof of female bits.
"I do," I protested. There was an added rumble that overlaid the steady purr. Meantime my stupid brain was repeating that last bit of what I'd just thought over and over like a mantra: ...proof of female bits...proof of female bits...
"You will," he said, adding a third layer to the sounds he was producing, making it ominous promise, slight warning and pleased satisfaction all at once.
"Hey..." I said slowly, dimly aware that I was on to something here. Synsen's hand shifted on my face and he let go of me but remained crouching over me, my body beneath the ledge created by his bent knees. "Hey. What if I was a guy? You know...when you..."
Oh. Oh god, I thought, getting it finally. There was a reason Synsen went easy on me, relatively speaking. Words failed me and I lost the energy to speak, even as I mentally screamed out that I'd changed my mind and would prefer the death option over the life option, please, and make it godamn snappy. I frowned, blinking rapidly and tiredly, then lost the fight against whatever he'd drugged my food with.
