A/N: So, here's to all of you who are enjoying this tale! Please leave a review – I'm interested in what you think.
Chapter 10: Trail Mix
It was the middle of the night and two of the acolytes, Trish and Lisa, kept watch on the readouts at the aide's station, while Michelle and Jen went from room to room doing a visual check on the slumbering Ancients. First was A'dairfr's room, where they gently opened the door and tiptoed in on mouse feet. The giant laid face-up on his furs, his white locks strewn about while sawing redwoods so loudly they could have probably chatted and not have been heard above the cacophony. His dissonance and posture seemed normal; the readouts indicated he was dry, so off they went, making sure to close the door silently, to check on their next charge.
The Ancient Óttar still kept his comatose post, flat on his back with upper torso slightly raised. The steady drip of IV fluids still seeped life under the see-through creamy skin whose faded mottling was only shadows, and the ever present feeding tube still denied him permission to attend the great halls of Cetanu where his ForeSires and their ForeSires feasted, drank c'ntlip and told great sagas of achievement, and where continually desirous grand Yautja females would forever seek his attention with sultry snarls and enticing wafts of their sex-laden fragrance. There was little change in this oldest of the old, with the exception of the sudden notification from Trish's com that Óttar was wet. She quickly summoned the other two station aides for assistance with the changing.
Óttar was a nearly-dead lump when they tried to move him, but a heavy lump nonetheless. They flawlessly executed the cloth changing maneuver and, as they smoothed out the fur cover over his body, Michelle's hand ran over something on the pelt. It was dark, elongated, rather rough to even the gloved touch, and appeared very, very dry. Picking it up, she held it in her palm trying to figure out what it was. Motioning to the rest to come over, she tapped on her penlight and held her palm under the downward soft beam. "What do you think this is?" she whispered. It looked for all the world like a small, oblong, dried fruit and even had a sort of thorn or stem projecting from one end.
"Let me see," ordered Trish, taking the object from Michelle. Carefully she felt its light and almost crumbly form through the glove with her thumb and fingers. Stopping suddenly, she went back to the sleeping Ancient and closely examined his hand. Then she motioned the group out into the hallway. "It's one of his digits, girls," she said quietly. Michelle nearly gagged at the revelation.
"His digit! You mean his damn finger?" she whisper yelled.
"Yes, the end of his right little finger came off. It appears to have actually mummified. I'll bag it, and submit it to the lab in the morning before we leave." Trish took the offending desiccated part and gently placed it in the specimen bag, then tucked it in the lab box. Looking at each other, even though not all of them had touched the finger, the girls went to the waterless cleanser dispenser, stripped off their gloves, and one by one again sanitized their hands.
Since they all were a little unnerved by the finding of the raisin digit, they decided to finish checking the rooms together. Trish quietly opened the door to A'fi's room. She led the way as the rest of the girls walked silently behind her. A'fi lay on his side, hands pillowing the curve of his mandibles. His slightly open mouth trickled a single strand of drool which pooled on the sheet below. Gentle wheezes accompanied his breaths along with the faint squeak of his stained tusks rubbing together like small tree branches in the wind. As the snoozing Goliath was dry, they went on to the last room.
The latest to join their group, L'jótr, had to be the homeliest Yautja that any of them had ever laid eyes on. In fact, not counting the Hunters who'd briefly paraded down the hallway taking A'fi to his room, and Michelle's short-lived encounter with Sig'dan, he was only the fourth Yautja they had ever seen. He was greatly aged, of course, like the others, and that embellished him with no attractive favor. Beyond the sparse and frizzled white locks, head rimmed with spikes, and translucent skin, L'jótr's upper right mandible had been apparently broken earlier in life, and had healed at an angle that made the parchment-colored tusk jut outward nearly ninety degrees. Unlike the other Ancients, this jutting tusk had been inlayed with some silvery metal in an intricate woven design as if it were a feature rather than grotesque outcropping. The lower right mandible was mostly missing and only a brief stub accompanied his jaw.
"Wonder what happened to him," whispered Jen, as they stood around the bed taking stock of the newcomer.
"I bet it didn't help him out with the ladies," murmured back Michelle. Unknown to them, the Honored Ancient had sustained severe injuries fighting a Queen Kainde Amedha, a treasured though horrific prey animal, in a youthful battle where the Hunters had been greatly outnumbered by her acid-bleeding children. He alone survived. He had deliberately let the injuries heal without the proper resetting and replacement that Yautja medicine could have provided, in order to advertise to all his remarkable deed. And the ladies? They quarreled and fought over him amongst themselves, each desirous to have the seed of such a heroic and skillful Hunter bestow a strong, virtuous pup in their wombs. He had been able to eat sufficiently with only his left mandibles working, and his grip on the backs of the most sought-after females was still strong, although in truth they probably had not struggled mightily in their ardor to gain his creative fluid.
Having nothing further to do in Ljótr's room, the group returned to their hum-drum vigil at the station until the next signal that an Ancient needed changing, or the next round of visual checks came.
With the difficulty of pronouncing Yautja names, and the need to distinguish among them, the aides had come up with their own nicknames for the Ancients. Nicknames they kept to themselves, for fear of being lectured on resident rights. The Ancients were named in order of appearance, His Largeness, Lump, Grizzly and Tot, which stood for 'Tricked out tusk'. "So, does anyone have any idea why Lump's finger came off?" asked Lisa.
"I'm pretty sure he is dying," stated Jen, who had the most clinical experience. "When people are dying, the body begins to shunt the blood flow away from the extremities in order to keep the core alive as long as possible. If their systems work the same way, I think that the blood flow to the finger just stopped, and the finger has basically mummified. I'm sure the doctors will investigate in the morning. His skin is darker and quite wrinkled on his hands so we just didn't notice what was happening, I guess."
Across the galaxy, Myn'dill continued his research in the great medical library on Yaut, having determined through lengthy discourse and rounds of c'ntlip exactly when Gagr would be called away to specific lengthy Council meetings. As he waited for the analysis results on the data and blood samples he'd submitted, he perused though the volumes of health records looking for when the earliest incidents of the illness were recorded. As had Ulfr, he found that it began happening at around the same time as the demise of the very last of the Matriarchs. He read further about their deaths. Every single female of their species had, without any warning, fallen down dead. No appearance of any type of attack or vital organ failure could be found in the autopsies. They had suddenly internally hemorrhaged, their life blood spilling into their lungs and drowning them. No infectious virus or bacteria was ever implicated. They were going along with their lives and unexpectedly, they died. It took only six long cycles for all the females to perish. Flights had hastily gone out to remote planets, trying to preserve groups of females. In time, those females also departed this life. Even females who had never been on the home world quickly and mysteriously expired. Soon, a universe of solely male Yautja were left to investigate what had happened and figure a way to continue their species.
It had been known for a long time, that for some strange reason, human DNA could be compatible with the Hunters'. A few had braved the bestiality bridge over the eons. A very few had been stranded on the Blue Planet and had done so out of desperation. Others, more than the public knew about, had been Bad Bloods and caring not for honor, had used ooman females only to satisfy their carnal desires. Ooman females abused in this manner seldom lived. And a very few, known mostly to c'ntlip laced legend, were taken by Hunters who came to admire their bravery, honor and strength. But who knew how much stock to put in the bawdy accounts of what passed for Yautja romance in the drunken anecdotes of the newly Blooded?
Myn'dill kept at his exploration, pausing only to make notations on his pad, which filed them, along with downloads of pertinent data. He kept one umber eye on the passage of time, as he needed to complete his work before Gagr left the Council. The Healer had previously decided to follow his scent organ and submit a few inquiries on the activities of Healer Gagr and his whereabouts at the time the Ancients' disease was first located. He found that there had been substantial High Council resources directed to private laboratories during the early years of exploring the disease inflicting the Ancients. A major lab had been under the direction of Gagr, in fact, it had already existed when the first accounts of the disease were made known, and curiously, it had been the primary lab involved in researching the death of the Matriarchs. Myn'dill had earlier found the record of who on the Council had authorized payment for it – the now-retired and ill Ancient A'fi.
The sudden concentration of assets made sense as the Yautja had twice found themselves in a frantic, albeit fruitless, race to understand and contain an outbreak. First, the lab run by Gagr had worked on the swift outbreak of death among the females, and then it had worked on the slower outbreak of mental and physical weakness among the Ancients, and had been joined by other labs mainly in the second effort. Myn'dill dug further and began focusing his inquiries on the one run by the devious Gagr. Who else had supported that lab, and what its focus of testing had been, suddenly became of acute interest to him.
As he perused the viewer, the attendant who'd taken his data and samples approached him saying, "Honorable Healer Myn'dill, we find no examples of a naturally occurring toxin that matches what you brought us anywhere in the galaxy, that is, anywhere that we have records for. However, we DO have matches to this poison – in blood samples that we have stored from other ill Ancients. Honorable Healer, this chemical remains unique. Others have researched before you and have also come to this conclusion, and no one has been able to determine the source."
Feeling frustrated, the Healer left to communicate his annoying lack of results to Ulfr, that the toxin in A'fi matched the one in the other already studied Ancients. There were no breakthroughs here. Along the way he wondered what had become of A'fi's estate after he had been shipped to the Blue Planet? Some of his trophies and weapons had accompanied him, but surely not all. He headed to the section of the city where the Ancient's home had been to seek more answers.
Back on Earth, Sally had completed another day of overseeing the Ancients' care, compiling data and submitting reports to corporate. The lab had confirmed the desiccated state of Óttar's detached finger. Further examination had shown that indeed, his body was directing blood flow away from his limbs, striving to save the vital core. The limbs, deprived of oxygen, fluid and food, were drying up like strips of meat, laid out in the sun to be jerked.
She had tensely read an impatiently toned email from her boss, asking if she'd made any headway with the request to the Yautja to load more Ancients on board their ship for each planetary run. Her reply was terse and to the point. 'Hunters are here several days for ship maintenance. Will attempt to broach subject later today.' Wishing she had a drink to fortify herself for the coming evening, she began the walk to dinner.
Ulfr's crew had not grumbled to his face, or to each other, about redoing the maintenance they had just completed while in port on Yaut. They trusted their Elder, and his word was their unchallenged directive, at least aloud. To themselves they wondered why he wanted the extra days on the Blue Planet, and what it had to do with their mission. Ulfr remained the typical Elder, by offering no explanation of his reasoning. He was in the position of ultimate responsibility and therefore, of ultimate power. His logic and strategy needed no explanation to the crew, until it did. At that time, he would illumine them. Until then, he expected, and almost always received, absolute unquestioned obedience.
The maintenance was called to a halt and the crew cleansed themselves in preparation for dinner. They dried their sculpted bodies and donned clean loincloths along with a few unobtrusive weapons so as not to feel naked. Then they thudded down the ramp way beginning the walk to dinner. The Hunters did not keep an Earth time clock, but rather, kept their native time. By that accounting, and by the accounting of their stomachs, it was not now a time to eat, but they dutifully accompanied Ulfr to the meal. Because they were not hungry, it would likely be more of a drinking event, although they would taste the food in order to not offend the Matriarch.
Halfway through the House's central hall, they met up with Sally. "Good evening, Honorable guests," she said with a nod.
"Good evening," Ulfr responded in his low rugged voice, as he and his group all gave a nod of greeting. Remembering his best studied Blue Planet manners, Ulfr proffered his arm to Sally saying, "May I escort you to our meal?" Surprised at the humanness of the gesture, Sally hesitantly reached up to his forearm and tried to wrap her arm around his. She withheld an unprofessional snigger as her arm was simply not long enough to both crook and wrap. She settled for placing her wrist through the inside of his elbow and her hand on the top of the bulging armrest. Sally thought she would have to run to keep up, but Ulfr was careful to mind the length of his steps as he escorted his miniature hostess to the Hospitality Room.
Once there, he kept up his arm support as Sally ascended her chair, then went to pour her and himself a drink. He grunted to the rest of his band to pour their own, not extending his best human politeness to his crew. They did not notice the lack of manners, as each Hunter was used to fending for himself, only offering the first of anything to his superior. And so it was that Sig'dan, the youngest, poured his scotch and was seated last at the great, round table. They all sat, imbibing their drinks and not yet passing the food. Only Sally nibbled a little at her already-dished-up-and-covered dinner.
"How was your day, Honorable Sal'lee?" Sig'dan bravely broached the silence.
"It was busy, Sig-dan," she answered, "How did your ship maintenance go?"
"Fine," he replied, not knowing where to take this lame conversation next.
It was Ulfr who then spoke, "Sal'lee, we were going to have a demonstration of your Yoga this evening. But, as you are now dining, I would not ask it of you, my apologies for not requesting it sooner. Perhaps we could observe a demonstration tomorrow before we eat?"
"Certainly," Sally acquiesced. "I would be honored to demonstrate my small skill."
"We apologize for our lack of hunger this evening. We are not accustomed to eating so frequently."
"It is of no matter, Honorable Elder. There is no need to apologize."
Surely, no one in the universe has ever heard so many Yautja apologies, thought Ulfr, grinding his mandibles a bit in distaste. "For the evening's entertainment then, I propose that my brother show us his improvement in the arena, since he is not eating. A bit of scotch will only serve to assist him in warming up." Ulfr spread his mandibles at Sig'dan in the equivalent of a warm smile. Only another Yautja would catch the slight sarcasm and baiting in his expression and tone.
"I would be honored to demonstrate for you," responded Sig'dan, daring a glance at Sally, who pretended not to notice.
The repast continued, with Sally only picking at her serving, and the Hunters tossing back a few more scotches while Kylfa and Ab'bi placed wagers on how much Sig'dan might have improved and in what technique and with what weapon. Ulfr explained to Sally that they were discussing weapons techniques while not giving her the slightly awkward details. Those two of his crew would bet on anything, anyone, and anywhere. In fact, he suspected that Ab'bi, in spite of his excellent qualities as a second, might have even wagered against him a time or two. Sig'dan sat silently in thought while Kylfa and Ab'bi sealed their bets.
Why did my brother ask this of me? To humiliate? He knows that I am not as skilled yet as the others. And I am also a Healer. I spend a great deal of time in study, not the spar. Does he simply wish to discredit me in front of Sal'lee? That would not make sense; he knows she is not interested in me. The others do not know, of what benefit is it to humiliate me in front of them?
After dinner, Sally led the group, with Ab'bi and Kylfa still grunting and clicking in Yautja, to the kehrite where quiet Sig'dan took the floor. The rest made themselves comfortable in the spectator seats, Ulfr keeping his position next to Sally, and with a mandible flare, warning off Kylfa who tried to sit by her unaccompanied side. With a nod from the Elder, Sig'dan began his routine that Sally called 'tai chi boxing' and warmed up. Sig'dan's usual huffs, exhales and grunts punctuated the routine, which was interrupted occasionally by a chitter from either Kylfa or Ab'bi. Sig'dan finally withdrew a blade concealed at his waist and, again with a nod from Ulfr, began to thrust and parry while circling a well-camouflaged foe.
Sally's eyes tracked Sig'dan's familiar movements, and soon found herself once more enthralled at the grace and skill of the young Hunter. His motions were art to her, as she likened the scene before her to one of an overtly male Russian ballet dancer, somehow morphing into a lethal primal force.
Ulfr heard the lub dubs of Sally's heart rate increasing, and the sound of her breathing becoming faster. This excites her? A barrage of questions flew through his mind. Does she appreciate the demonstration of skill, or is it simply the demonstration by a male that enlivens her? How can she react to a male since her reproductive organs have been removed? How would she react to a real spar? In a moment of decision, Ulfr came to his feet. Just as Sig'dan completed his display and sheathed his blade, Ulfr jumped the row of seats in front of him and boldly walked upto smack Sig'dan in the shoulder growling, jehdin-jehdin – the challenge for hand-to-hand contest. Sig'dan glowered at his larger brother and unhesitatingly met the challenge with the slap of his own palm on Ulfr's shoulder.
"Jehdin-jehdin - a spar then. The first to fall…loses." Ulfr, as the Elder, gave the rules, and the two went to the arena center and began to circle.
Sally was nearly panicked. Has Ulfr gone nuts? My studies explained that the shoulder shove is a challenge. Why has he asked Sig'dan to fight? Did one of them insult the other? Ulfr is much larger than Sig'dan, how badly is he going to hurt him? Sig'dan was merely going through his practice with the knife, and then, Ulfr had out-of-the-blue jumped into the arena and issued an invite to confrontation. Now they both warily circled each other, roaring like lions, with those ungodly mandibles fully extended. The stressed Paya's House Administrator unknowingly began to sweat, and, as she did so, the aroma of her stress wafted over to where Ab'bi and Kylfa sat anteing on the spar's outcome. Ab'bi was the first to catch the scent.
"Kylfa, do you detect that?" Ab'bi spoke after huffing gently.
Kylfa immediately huffed at the air, "Indeed, I do! So that is what her scent is like, at least when she is upset. We should explain to her, Ab'bi. She does not understand what is happening."
"I will try, my English is better than yours." Ab'bi got up and stepped back to where anxious Sally sat on the edge of her seat. He startled her from her focus on the circling brothers. "Honor-able Sal'lee," he began, "Do not be…upset, this is not kill…this is…fun." Ab'bi looked at her with cocked head and raised eye ridges. Sally had torn her eyes away from the arena, jumping a bit, to look him as he spoke.
"This is FUN?"
"Sei, Honor-able Sal'lee, fun." Ab'bi moved back to his seat near Kylfa, satisfied that he had been understood, but baffled as to why the female now emitted another scent that seemed to be mostly one of confusion. She does not understand us, he concluded, and went back to commenting on the spar with Kylfa.
Sally relaxed a bit in her seat as she now understood that Ulfr and Sig'dan were not trying to off each other. She watched as Sig'dan was the first to aim a hit on Ulfr, who appeared to simply dodge the powerful body-backed blow with careless ease. Sig'dan swiftly turned his still air-borne body in a split second after the miss and landed another punch in the middle of Ulfr's unguarded side. Ulfr let out a resounding whuff of air and seemed to wheeze, in what sounded like, discomfort. Savagely, the Elder turned and the fight was now in earnest. To his credit, Sig'dan had been taking his practice seriously since he and Ulfr had last sparred, which was several Earth years ago. This is not the younger brother I last beat the c'jit out of, thought Ulfr as he narrowly avoided another thrust.
Sally stared at the fight in awe. She had appreciated the grace and power of Sig'dan's practice sessions; but she had never before seen an Elder in action and she had never witnessed an actual Yautja spar. The ease of Ulfr's movements, the impeccable timing of his dodges and hits, the striking power of those immense glistening muscles overwhelmed her previous appreciation of the newly Blooded. Sig'dan was putting up a worthy fight, but was seriously outmatched by his older brother. The bout came to an end when a blow from Ulfr bypassed the younger's block and struck Sig'dan full in the face, setting him down with a sickening thump on the arena floor. Woozy from the hit, Sig'dan sat shaking his head, waiting for the world to collapse into single vision. Green blood dripped from between the sharp teeth sparsely lining the rim of his mouth.
Ulfr offered a hand to his brother, who grasped it, hauling himself up. "Good spar, brother," Ulfr clasped Sig'dan's shoulder and shook it, "Good spar! You have improved much since we last fought. My ribs will need some time to heal," he said good-naturedly. Sig'dan returned the shoulder shake, turning his head to the side and spitting blood on the floor.
"I still need some training and years, before I rightfully knock you on your rear end," Sig'dan good-naturedly admitted.
With an air of camaraderie, they both walked back to the arenaseats and sat down. Ulfr retrieved a medicomp and ran it over Sig'dan and himself. "You, my brother, have a few loose teeth and a cracked facial bone, while I have been rewarded with cracked ribs. Well done!" He extracted from the medicomp kit two syringes, each pre-loaded with a blue substance.
"Pauk! Not that c'jit," exclaimed Sig'dan.
Ulfr turned to a rather subdued Sally and interpreted, "My brother fears this healing medicine. It is very powerful." Raising his crown, Sig'dan gaped his mandibles at his brother. Ulfr merely gave out the noises that Sally knew signified Yautja mirth and spoke to her again, "Sal'lee, I admit to enjoying myself at my brother's expense. This powerful medicine is what we use in the field, and it heals very quickly. Unfortunately, it is also very painful."
"Elder, we have a fully equipped Yautja hospital here. Why not use our facility instead of suffering such pain?" Sally suggested.
"H'ko, Sal'lee. "Dtai'k-dte sa-de nav'g-kon dtain'aun bpide. That means - the fight that began would not end until the end. My brother will have his wounds healed as we do on the hunt and he will endure his cure with honor, as will I." With that, Ulfr plunged one of the needles into his own abdomen and the other into his brother's. They both tensed as the blue medication self-injected into their bodies, but neither made a noise or did so much as clench a fist. Sally let out the breath she'd been holding as Ulfr pulled the empty syringes from their targets.
The two brothers stood silently with eyes closed for a few minutes, letting the medication work, and focusing on ignoring the intense burn spreading from the injection site throughout their bodies. The other Hunters waited quietly, out of respect for the pain that was not being shown.
In short order, the burning lessened and Ulfr was able to address Sally, "You wished to speak with me. I shall go to the ship to refresh myself, and return here shortly. Will you wait on me?" There really was no question as to that. Ulfr gave orders to everyone he considered inferior, and, although Sally was titled Matriarch of Paya's House, his query to her smacked more of simply informing her of what was so.
Sally nodded her head in agreement. She needed a bit to recompose herself after such a spectacle. "I will wait in the Hospitality Room, Elder." With that agreement, they parted ways. The Hunters went back to the ship, and Sally went to the room where the leavings of dinner had already been cleared. She poured herself a glass of wine and settled on one of the oversized sofas by the fire as she waited for Ulfr to appear.
The fight HAD been exciting, she told herself, pulling up images of grace and muscle strain in the two strong arena forms she'd viewed, and felt glad that neither brother had been seriously hurt. The medication injection must have been very powerful, and she remained clueless as to the painful cost of its effectiveness. She felt the damp from perspiration under the tapered hairstyle at the back of her neck, and surmised that she had probably emitted some scent during her tension regarding the fight and was relieved that she had time to rest and regain dry composure before being alone with the Elder. As she waited, she couldn't help but gently warm in her own reactions to the bout.
The visual of the two males in serious challenge had reached in to take hold of something very basic within the administrator's mind - that basic part of all humanity, the reptile brain, hidden beneath other millennial built layers of refinement and civility - had found a wormhole in which to exude itself into her controlled and professional world.
The group of Hunters sauntered back to the ship, Ab'bi and Kylfa exchanging weapons and lock beads.
"Which of them won?" asked Sig'dan of Ulfr.
"I'm not certain, brother. And obviously, all the bets were not in my favor," Ulfr replied in his low way.
Sig'dan ventured a brave inquiry, "May I ask what you wish to speak with the Matriarch about this evening?"
"You may," answered Ulfr and then waited for a time in silence, enjoying his joke as Sig'dan nervously tapped his left lower tusk against a fang as he impatiently waited for the Elder to decide to answer. Deciding he had tortured his young brother enough, Ulfr stated, "The Matriarch has requested to speak with me about our mission, I do not, as yet, know what the specific topic is."
At the ship, Sig'dan retreated to his quarters, wishing that the Matriarch had requested HIS presence alone after dinner.
A short while later, a gleaming clean and slightly clad Ulfr opened the door to where Sally waited and entered the room, spying her seated on the sofa. "Would you care for another drink, Elder?" she asked, starting to rise from her position of comfort.
"Please stay seated, Sal'lee. I will get it myself. Would you care for something more?"
"Red wine, please. There is an open bottle left from dinner."
Ulfr came to the couch, scotch in one hand and fresh, stemmed crystal of wine carefully cradled in the other. Handing the glass to Sally, he carefully seated himself beside the human. "It has been long since I have sparred with my brother. It is good to see he has grown in strength and proficiency. What did you think of it?" He discretely huffed in a little air before bringing his drink to his mouth. Sei, she has scent. There is residual fear…confusion…but she seems to have enjoyed watching.
Sally had sat quietly while waiting for Ulfr. Her now calm demeanor drying her earlier glow, she did not realize that the chemicals of her emotions were still much in evidence. "Honestly, I was fearful at first, Elder. I thought that you and Sig-dan were really going to injure each other. Your second-in-command explained otherwise to me."
"He did? I did not think his English was sufficient." Or his sensibility, he added mentally.
"It was. I…rather enjoyed it, Elder. I had appreciated the skill that your brother had shown during our training together. But, I had never seen a fight like that, a fight for fun, before. It was…very interesting."
Ulfr took in another discrete huff and scented Sally's renewing excitement at recalling the spar. "I am honored that you appreciated our match." Nodding lightly to her, he continued, "And how did you find the skills of an Elder as compared to a newly Blooded?"
Sally was a bit aghast. Was he fishing for a complement? "Honorable Elder, I am not knowledgeable in these things. I found your skills to be the best I have yet seen."
That was clever, Ulfr thought. She knows that I know - Sig'dan is the only other Yautja she has seen in the kehrite. She pays a compliment, and yet it is a very small one – she knows this.
"What is it you wished to speak of, Sal'lee?"
"I don't know the best way to ask you this, Elder, so I will ask it outright if you have no objection?"
She asks permission to question further. Who has been teaching her manners? "That is usually best," Ulfr said quietly, his amber eyes shining with a glimmer of newfound respect.
"My superiors believe that it is possible, and beneficial, for you and your crew to transport three Ancients in a single trip," Sally blurted out, not quite comfortable enough in her admission to look Ulfr in the eye.
"What do you believe, Sal'lee?"
"I have…concerns, Elder," Sally again felt part of herself sinking into that little girl place as Ulfr gently questioned her. It was not unpleasant to her, but as a strong, assertive woman, it was an unaccustomed feeling. It was not a feeling of childishness, but one of understanding that she was in the presence of a being who was in complete possession of himself, mentally, physically – in every way he presented a level of maturation the administrator had never encountered before. She was drawn to it, to him, and wanted in the very essence of her being to know him more.
"What are your concerns?"
"That it will be much more difficult to accustom three new residents to the House at one time. I believe it will take more staff than we currently have in order to do it safely. It will also be more difficult for the Ancients already in residence to adjust to three newcomers at the same time. I'm worried...it may not be safe, for the Ancients, or for us. But, the company feels it would be best as there are a great many Ancients who need to be cared for. The company told me that they were contacting your High Council with this, but also requested that I speak with you."
Silently, Ulfr mulled over her words, looking afar off into nothing. Sally concentrated on the fire in the fireplace, waiting for him to finish thinking and address her. The gas log fire glowed, and spread it's warmth out into the room. Had she been here alone, Sally would have loved to have spread out on the thick brown fur rug put out before it. She waited patiently for Ulfr to complete his contemplation and took a sip from her wineglass.
Ulfr made a little rumble. "Sal'lee, I trust the judgment of the High Council and I also trust your judgment as the Matriarch of this place. I must first verify that this is the wish of the High Council. If it is, let me bring back the requested three Ancients. Then my crew and I will stay a while and assist you in ensuring they are safe here, and that the oomans who care for them are safe also. We will stay for a short time and be here should you need us for…anything."
"That sounds like a good plan to me, Elder," Sally turned from staring at the fire and caught Ulfr straight in the tawny light of his eyes. Without warning, she could see...nothing. She was conscious of sitting there, and that she was making eye contact with the Elder, yet all she viewed was vivid shining blackness. Her pupils had dilated fully the instant she locked eyes with the Elder's. Sally sat there completely fixated in the power of his gaze. She felt drowned in him, unable to move or even to breathe. She knew that the blackness was Ulfr, that she was somehow immersed in him, lost in him – in the depths of the darkness in the center of his inhuman, yet not soulless, eyes. Time was lost to her. The few seconds of such intimate contact could have spanned hours for all she knew. In humiliating self-consciousness, and with all the effort she could muster, she tore herself away from staring at him, mumbled her good night with face blushing bright red, and then fled the room. What in the hell was THAT, she asked herself in wonderment, as she scurried away. I have never, ever experienced anything like that in my life. That was definitely some sort of attraction, but on a level that I never knew existed. What the hell just happened?
Suddenly abandoned in the Hospitality Room, a confused Ulfr scented the air, which was still in motion from Sally's abrupt departure. His jaws opened and he huffed repeatedly in growing satisfaction, tasting the perfume of truth. Only a few molecules were present. Only a few were needed for the light to blaze in Ulfr's eyes, while his clicks of satisfaction filled the room as he validated the female's state. She had been aroused!
While Sally was busy with her Yautja guests, Myn'dill had found the former residence of A'fi. It was presently unoccupied and seemed unattended. He debated the wisdom of breaking-in, and decided to return in full armor and cloak so as not to be so easily noticed prowling about. Such a petty action as breaking a door seal was usually accomplished by mere pups out doing mischief. He did notwant to have his reputation tarnished by being caught doing such a juvenile deed.
He came back very early the next morning, when most were still at rest and the city was not yet growling to life. As he reached the house, after looking about to ensure no eyes were upon him, he flicked his cloaking on and became as a mirror, reflecting back all that surrounded him, which rendered him nearly invisible. Then he circumnavigated the house, testing all the doors and found them efficiently locked. Settling on a service door in the back of the house, he jimmied with the electronics of the door lock until he heard that certain click of the lock being withdrawn. The Healer was pleased that he recalled the skills of youth so easily.
The door opened easily on its heavy hinges as the shimmering figure entered the room. It was the galley, and had been neatly cleared and cleaned upon the departure of its owner. None of the gleaming surfaces bore a trace of anything, and all pantries and storage had been completely emptied. From the galley, Myn'dill went through the entire house, walking noiselessly as though stalking prey, searching for what he did not know.
A'fi's trophy room was bare, except for several gleaming ooman skulls and spines that still hung in their original spots, the other non-ooman trophies having been taken to adorn the Ancient's bragging wall in Paya's of the skulls stood out from the rest; its spine had been rewired to the base of the cranium and was mounted so as to mimic the bone's position in real life. With no owner to object, Myn'dill ran his fingers over the smoothness, admiring the immaculate polish. As he appreciated the fine symmetry of the trophy, a slight gleam coming from the inside of one of the orbits and caught his attention. Peering inside the sightless orifice, he picked a thin translucent square of material from where it had been carefully tucked away. It was the recording medium from a mask, long used by Hunters everywhere to record the spectacle of their conquest. Someone had deliberately removed it from his mask and placed it here. Puzzled, the Healer detached his own mask and with a few claw flicks removed his own personal record and replaced it with his find, then ticked a few controls on his wrist and images began to appear projected by his com. He watched for a time, and also listened as the medium recorded audio as well as visual.
There, dancing on his wrist's holographic viewer was one of the most attractive Yautja females he had ever seen. Her shining, silver-beaded locks draped over well-formed broad shoulders and curtained the delicacy of her beautifully mottled face. Yellow-brown eyes smoldered and the light gleamed off the whiteness of her small, perfectly sharp tusks. Well-rounded breasts sprouted high and tight on her beautifully muscled chest and the mask's camera eye traveled down the rolling curves of her excellent strong belly. She began undulating her well-molded hips as she tapped her tusks in time to her movements to entice the Hunter behind the mask that was recording the scene. Her hand reached toward the watcher and then the view jostled as the female gave the Hunter a chest shove and slowly growled his name, "A'fiiiiiiii".
Myn'dill felt more triumphant than if he'd finally won a bet with the mission's second. The record belonged to none other than the Ancient, Honorable A'fi! He would watch the entire tome from the comfort of his quarters and see what the old one had been up to. And, as a side benefit, he was certain would find the record stimulating. It had been a very long time since the Healer had mounted a tusksome beauty of his own kind. A satisfied click of his mandibles conveyed that it would be a pleasure to watch, and the growing pressure beneath his codpiece agreed.