[ Trigger Warning: Rape/Necrophilia mention ]

Baal was tightly bound and muzzled with sour smelling metal, preventing her from biting and clawing her way to freedom. She had been stuffed in a cage far too small for her and foul liquid dripped on her silken fur from above and all around a din of terror for a dozen different aliens shattered any hope of peaceful sleep.

All it had taken for Dag to disappear was a few moments. Baal had only left to find somewhere with enough room to stretch out her back and when she'd returned the little one was gone.

From what Baal could remember she had been led into an ambush and traqualized, it'd been a long time since anyone had snuck up on her like that, fucking yautja. Her her tail flicked in irritation and covered her nose to block out the smell of rot and death.

The stench and the noise brought back memories of the burrows at their worst. When flight corporations ruled the sphere mercilessly, no embassy's, no shelters, little food and no money for anyone below a certain paygrade. Poverty stricken, many folk fell to violence to keep food in their bellies. Back then Baal was little more than a hired-gun, anything to keep from selling herself again.

Baal hadn't known Shale personally way back then, only through word of mouth and reputation had she a gleaning of his nature, so she'd been more than surprised when the thin bedraggled yautja had shown up on her doorstep asking for a favor.

Baal was one of the few hirable fighters that had set down any kind of roots in the sphere at the time, she was certainly the only one who'd been at home and willing to let a yautja into her living space with two strange children.

Stalks-at-Dusk was an odd one, that she'd heard, a hunter that only hunted his own kind. Transgressors he'd called them, blasphemers and bad bloods. At first she only thought him a glorified murderer life herself, the long necklace of yautjan tusks that swung on his neck was proof of his skill.

Suspicious, untrusting, Baal had only let him in out of the cold wet because of the two bodies he carried, one in each arm and drenched with wet acidic rain.

"There's not too much food if that's what you want," She'd told him, the designated market time wasn't for several turns of the sun, until then the stalls were chained closed.

"I didn't ask ye for food," his voice had almost been a growl. He was shorter and thinner than most of his ilk, scar hardened muscles wrapped wire-tight to his thick bones, his long gills faded to a soft dark grey and one was a shocking strip of white.

He'd refused the cushions Baal had offered and instead sat beside the heater with his back against the wall and the two children still in his arms. A myilliean and an adolescent human from what Baal could see. While the human had looked healthy enough, the myilliean was covered in wounds and layers of bruising, both so exhausted that neither the yauta's voice nor his movements disturbed their sleep. Their slender arms wrapped around his thick leathery neck, the myilliean's pale blue hand clutched the long necklace of tusks like a life-line.

"Those yours?" Baal had never been good at small talk,

The thin yautja had narrowed his eyes at her, "Aye, whelped them myself."

Baal had managed a snort at that, he was living up to his reputation.

"I mean it, seriously, are the babes in your arms yours or are you looking for their kin?" Baal had settled across from him in the small space of her single room home, "I can help you find their families, I know yautjan hunters don't like being tied down."

"Your compassion is appreciated, but it's no business of yours." Stalks-at-Dusk's tone had been as harsh and cold as a glacier dragging along stone.

"Bitter are we?" Baal had clicked back curtly, "Maybe a little cranky? Hm? Harder than it looks isn't it, being gentle?"

The beginnings of a hiss had spilled out into the room but before Stalks-at-Dusk could curse at the saisoa's words the myilliean whimpered in their sleep. Baal had watched curiously as this hunter of hunters took the time to hum and purr and comfort a child that was not his own.

Baal's observant golden eyes took in the scene, the way he'd forgotten her needling comment when it seemed that one of the children might awake, and how his amber eyes were looking over the tired faces resting against him. Depending on him it seemed.

She'd gotten up and brought over one of her lesser used shawls, "I asked what I asked because I'd met one of your kind that kept a child of another species beside them, unjustly killed their sire or so I was told."

Stalks-at-Dusk looked at her sourly, "I take down the ones that make those kinds of mistakes," he allowed Baal to cover the children with the shawl and lay down next to him,

"So I've heard, but why the living baggage?"

"Someone's got to take some fucking responsibility," his voice was gruff, but Baal was having a little trouble taking him completely seriously when he looked so sweet bundled up in a shawl with his arms full of babes.

"Honorable of you,"

Stalks-at-Dusk then turned to her and said something that had forced Baal to like him right then and there despite her misgivings.

"It ain't honorable, it's just bein' decent."

Decent.

Not many sentient folk would know what decency was even if it slapped them on the ass. Even more so the yautja whom she'd encountered over the years, all outer colony born and bred, cruel thieves and gangsters, the lot of them.

Stalks-at-Dusk never thought twice that what he was doing was an incredible blessing of mercy in a cold universe, nor care if it meant being perceived as weak to any number of enemies he'd made across the stars. It was just the right thing to do.

Decent.

More foul smelling water dripped on Baal's head and brought her back from the memories of her dark leaky home to the dripping prison she was now confined in.

Even though the babes he'd carried into her home that day were long full grown she still felt protective of them. She'd entertained Dag's willingness to dance with the young yautja, the human's trusting nature had been helpful on more than one occasion, and anyway not everyone of Shale's kind was a criminal.

Well… All that I've happened to meet other than him and his kin have been criminals…

If things got really desperate with this… acid creature situation… Shale might just call up a favor with his older sister. She wasn't an arbitrator like he was, although she could be if she wished, if she wasn't so well pleased to be a hunting mother that is.

Baal shifted as much as she could to get comfortable in her cage, her spine was acting up and the deep burning tightness along her back was only getting worse. Her six golden eyes slipped close and she flexed the curved claws on her powerful paws.

She was a bounty hunter. She was patient. All she had to do was wait.

Whatever these yautja thought to put her up against in their little games she'd take care of it, and then it would be their turn.

….

Dag was awoken by screaming, shrill frantic screaming. It cut the air like a cold knife and Dag's eyes flew open to be greeted by little more than the dark blackness and the alien voices calling out in panic. Her eyes strained to adjust as she pulled against her restraints, they were sticky, slimey, Dag retched at the smell.

Sour acetone and bleach… like that shit that she and Fish drank after their last flight test that gave her the worst hangover of her life. The smell burned in her throat like the sting of hot bile. Dag had to fight back the urge to vomit.

Fool… idiot… fucking dumbass! That bitch! That fucking bitch! He took me!

Anger curled deep in Dag's stomach and with a growl she started ripping at the strange organic material that had glued her to a metal wall.

With a light thump she landed on the floor, freezing metal bit at her calloused feet and Dag shivered, she was naked and alone in the dark.

Her weak human eyes had adjusted as much as they could, she was able to see shapes and that was enough. As soon as she was out of wherever this was she was finding Dawn-Whispers and kicking his red thong wearing alligator-looking ass.

Dag had been so enamoured to see a yautja that wasn't trying to kill her or Shale she'd let down her guard. Stupid. So stupid.

Pathetic, weak, now she was stuck somewhere dark and dank and her rescue would be a burden.

Fuck this.

Dag's foot bumped into something organic and fleshy, she looked down and saw the egg shaped mound that was resting by the wall she'd been stuck to. She couldn't make out a lot of details, only that it was almost as tall as her shin, possibly beige-grey, and definitely alive.

Shale had told her about these things. Don't hesitate, smash 'em.

But with what?

Dag glanced around, her hands felt along the walls but the only thing even close to a weapon that she could find was from the sticky residue that had glued her to the wall. Some of it had hardened into an almost clear glassy substance, Dag broke off a piece and manipulated it into the semblance of a thin blade. The stuff was moldable and fragile, but that didn't matter, as long as the point of it worked. Dag wondered if it would be enough to buy her time, Shale had said that the creatures these eggs birthed were fast and tenacious, once they got your scent they wouldn't stop until they'd claimed you.

The noises of fear and screaming from when she'd awakened had quieted into agitated whispers and whimpers. Wherever Dag was she wasn't alone, but she needed to be careful, she wasn't about to be trapped again.

Fool me once…

Gritting her teeth Dag crouched down by the egg, it's stillness was unnerving, but she brushed aside her instinctual fear and raised her make-shift weapon. Swift with the speed and accuracy of a yautja raised human Dag plunged it into the clammy firm flesh of the egg. It went through surprisingly easily, amniotic fluid gushed out, jelly-thick and grey. Dag stabbed it again and again until the balloon popped and a half developed alien embryo slid out with a wet plop.

The part of her brain that had evolved over millions of years to fear spiders and scorpions reeled back in disgust, Dag coughed at the smell of the birthing fluid. Eyes watering, she fisted her weapon and stabbed the many-legged creature, it stuck sharp in the center of the cave-fish belly pale flesh and broke in half. The alien only twitched once before a spurt of hot acid caused Dag to jerk her hand away. Almost immediately the stillborn began to dissolve, bubble, and froth in a soupy mix of acid blood and egg sac liquid. The smell was something out of a nightmare. Plastic, sulfur, artificial and sour-hot. She would have honestly prefered the smell of manure, at least she knew where manure came from, that it was harmless. Not like this shit.

She'd been more than lucky, lady luck had downright blessed her. Under her breath Dag muttered a thanks to the cosmos, a habit picked up from Baal. She wondered where the large feline was, where Shale and Ahhve were, worry gnawed at her stomach but she pushed it away with a hush. It was more than likely she was the only one here. But first things first, get out.

Dag set off, her naked human feet silent along the freezing hard metal floors. The part of her that was still thirteen was paranoid of the worst. She longed for a reflective surface, something so that she could check herself. But Dag was sure she hadn't been raped, you would know if a yautja raped you unless you were dead before it happened.

The image of her father's kind face flashed in front of her and Dag roughly grabbed it and swallowed it down. The rage in her hungry belly would keep her warm in this fresh cold hell.

Like a shade of a ghost Dag crept toward the sounds of talking, though but a naked human, she'd been half raised by an arbitrator, one old enough to remember the time before the splitting of his species. One who'd hunted humans in his youth, whose proud trophies came with at least a scar each on his dark weathered hide.

Dag reached the end of the dark hall to see aliens of all different kinds, a few were still glued to the wall with the same substance she had been, some hung quietly limp and Dag felt a hard rock form in her stomach. Those that were alive and had their wits were talking amongst themselves. Where were they? What was going on?

Her immediate instinct to help was crushed when her eyes drifted down to the empty ova on the floor and dead parasites that lay strewn about. Dag took a headcount and forced her feet to backup and slip away even as the raw anger burned in her throat.

Six for six.

According to what Shale had told her before the constable had picked them up there was no saving these folk now. Nothing she could do at any rate without an immediate medivac and emergency surgery. Both of which weren't going to fuckall happen, the only place these faces were destined for now was the morgue.

It was selfish, but her first priorities were to get the fuck out of this dark maze and she wasn't sure she'd able to handle confused and frightened folk straggling behind her. Dag's mind was buzzing with memories of Shale, the things he'd told her about these… hard meats…

Weapons of war… had to be…

Without a second glance Dag slipped off back the way she'd came, tears burning behind her eyelids as she drove herself to walk away.

She quickly came back upon where she had pryed herself off of the wall and found to her shock that the puddle of dead alien embryo had burned a near perfect hole in the floor. Dag cautiously touched the frayed edges of the hole, they stung, but the acid was diluted by the egg-fluid and Dag estimated only some minor burns if she risked it.

Well, lady luck wasn't done with her yet it seemed.

Dag crawled down through the hole and dropped down into the hallway below, avoiding the hole directly underneath that was boring itself through the metal.

From the design of the architecture around her Dag knew she was on a yautja ship. Likely the pit fighters home base, and if the steady hum of the engines told her anything it was that she was in the bowls of the machine.

Wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if this thing was floating in dock at orbit and that shit melted through the ship's hull?

It'd be a quick death for sure, the entire ship would decompress and turn itself inside out into the vacuum of space.

Shivering, Dag walked on.

Maybe if I can make it out of here fast enough the people above can be taken to a hospital…

Unlikely, but she would take any mercy her brain came up with. Wiping her stinging hands on the metal beside her Dag kept moving. Silent, prowling, crouched low in the red-drenched hallway, her ears and eyes on alert for anything that moved.

A million years ago it seemed that Shale had taken her on her first hunt, on a planet bathed in the bright red-light of a dying sun. A test, a trial won, a beast twice her mentors size lay dead at her feet, shot down by her hand-made arrows. The ancient weapon of her ancestors. She had been a ghost in the pink snow of this new and terrifying place, already two yaujtan tusks dangled from the earring on her right ear, a hunter in her own right since she was fourteen.

Dag was familiar enough with what yautjan tech looked like to know when she had been going in circles. This ship was far larger than Shale's and she was starting to become frustrated, she paused her stalking to think for a moment. It felt like she had been unconscious for several hours, she was hungry and would need to pee soon, the logistics of where she could pee were unappealing. Though she could just pop a squat wherever if she really felt like it, but human urine had a strong smell and that would most definitely draw unwanted attention her way.

I could just stop looking for a way out and find their control room and royally fuck their day over…

If she had a deathwish of course.

Her gut clenched as she remembered the aliens she had left behind, those folks that would likely never get to go home. Her hands tightened into fists and Dag stood up tall,

Alright, fuck their shit up it is…

Dag was, if anything, a creature driven by spite.

Her mind clear she crawled up the wall using the metal's architecture, ridges and shapes too small for a yautjan paw to get a hold onto. Dag slid open the screen that covered the air-pipe and crawled inside. She knew that the screen was removable for easy cleaning, and the pipes on this ship were just big enough that a fully grown Dag wouldn't get stuck. She was familiar with the design because of the ones on Shale's ship, she had spent many hours with his sister's cub playing in the ventilation until Shale and Grey-Sky had found out.

Crawling inside was a tight fit, Dag was taller than most men, broad shouldered and wide-hipped, it was luck again that she could move through the vent pipes quickly and quietly.

Her scent would likely be blown all over the ship too, possibly confusing the hell out of the yautja onboard until someone figured it out. She'd have to find the control room fast.

Teeth gritted together, hands acid burned and sore, Dag climbed her way through the ductwork, making the long dark sweaty journey towards the middle of the ship. That was were Shale's control room had been, a small hexagonal room in the most protected and structurally sound point of the vessel.

As quiet as Dag was being she began to hear yautjan voices trilling, the hissing chittering clicking made the hair along the flesh of her arms stand on end. They had to be able to smell her, the pipes were sweltering hot and she was buck naked, no fabric to soak up the dripping sweat running down her face and limbs.

The world beyond the screens gave her glimpses into the ship, only occasionally Dag caught a flash of scaly alien flesh whip by before disappearing from view.

She crawled over storage units, crew rooms and what looked like a galley before she crept around the medic bay. She was close, this ship followed a similar enough pattern to Shale's that she knew she was close to the control room. It wasn't like the flight deck which needed to be oriented at the front of the ship. She could lock herself inside and cut off outside life support maybe, or just blow the whole thing skyhigh.

No… Can't die here… not yet…

Brushing her grim thoughts aside Dag rounded the last corner and finally found the control room. It didn't look like anyone was in there. She carefully scanned for any camouflaged distortion of space and, finding none, Dag pulled back the vent screen and dropped down into the hexagonal space. She felt strong and alert despite the heat and the sweat pouring off of her skin, yautja needed more oxygen than she did and the effects of this atmosphere were taking their toll. It was fine in short bursts but too much and she could pass out or have a seizure.

Dag quickly ran over to the door and went to activate the locking mechanism but her hand paused just before she touched the buttons.

Too risky...

She'd probably set off an alarm.

Instead Dag sat down on the chair surrounded by thousands of blinking buttons covered in yautjan script. She settled in and began pressing familiar buttons, while bigger this model of ship's control room was almost identical to Shale's, Dag felt a memory wiggle in the back of her mind that she couldn't quite reach. Not having the time she pushed the thought away for later.

Dag plugged in the pattern of buttons she had long ago memorized to tell her where she was and immediately the image of this ship and its surroundings appeared on the screen in front of her. It was docked in the sphere, so cutting the gravity wouldn't work. Dag typed in another memorized pattern, and the computer pulled up a map of the ship and markers for all of the lifesigns onboard.

Twenty-some yautja, and six unknown life readings Dag didn't recognize.

She couldn't see where the aliens had gone but the six identical unknowns were clustered in the space that could only be where she had woken up. Her hands clenched into fists for a moment and she swallowed down another nugget of anger. Unshed tears from earlier brimmed over and ran down her brown face, Dag sniffed and wiped them away before she angrily began to jam in the instructions for an emergency lock-down. If they were in space she'd just set the whole thing to self-destruct and take her chances getting to a spare lifepod. But they were docked at the sphere, an explosion would kill hundreds of folk unfortunate enough to be close by. The only thing Dag could do is make sure the yautja onboard would stay put until the authorities arrived.

She had to get out a message.

More sweat beaded down her face, mouth dry Dag began punching in a sequence to message Shale's ship, she was sure she could remember the code he used on his wrist device to give it instructions. Dag wasn't sure how to send a message any other way, she could barely read the symbols flashing in front of her, if she could she'd broadcast where she was and what was going on to everything able to receive it in the sphere. But that was beyond her, and she was running out of time.

The distant pounding of yautja feet along the hallways below and above her shot electric adrenaline into her bloodstream. Hands shaking, Dag punched in a basic message, her name and where the ship was docked, and sent it to Shale's ship. Several tense moments passed before the computer acknowledged that the message had been received.

Dag could breathe again. Help would be coming soon. She just had to make sure she lived to see it.

Dag slipped off of the smooth chair and wiped her hot sweat from the seat before crawling up the wall and back into the hot air vents. She hauled ass as quietly as possible through the tubes, her eyes sharp for any weapon stockpiles she could raid or pointy object left unattended in any of the rooms.

Occasionally she passed over a yautja, snarling and angry, working on the doors that she had shut and locked. There were few enough of them on this big ship that she rarely saw two together. When she'd locked the doors she hadn't been sure if it was just the outside doors or if the inner ones would be included, to her amusement it seemed that they were.

Praise you lady luck, I won't forget this, I won't…

Dag wasn't sure of a higher power, but by how much she had gotten away with in the last three hours without getting in a single fight might just convince her that, right this moment, something was on her side.

Maybe it was her mom and dad and little brothers guiding her to safety, who knew, regardless, it was a comforting thought.

Dag passed by another one of the duct screens and while she couldn't understand the language she could recognize one of the voices. She looked down to see Dawn-Whispers and another yautja in a heated argument, their low sharp hissing and clicks cut through the air like needled blades.

Though tempted to stay and see if Dawn-Whispers got the shit kicked out of him by the bigger yautja Dag knew she couldn't linger, the scent of her sweat would become too strong for them to ignore.

Just then her luck ran out.

A fat drop of sweat slipped from Dag's nose and she watched, helpless, as it fell on the bigger yautja's head. They immediately cut Dawn-Whispers off and looked up at the air-duct, looked straight up at Dag.

The odds couldn't have been worse, she was soaking wet with sweat, stark nude, and completely weaponless.

Might as well make a memorable entrance.

"Hey, how's it hangin'?" Dag's voice was bright and didn't waver with a flicker of fear, she'd met bigger, meaner yautja than these two bad bloods. Dag slid back the screen of the air duct and dropped down to the center of the room, landing light on her feet.

She must have surprised them a great deal, since she didn't feel the iron blow of a fist or the hot pain of a set of claws.

Dag stood up leisurely, stretched, flicked the sweat from her brow onto the floor, her garnet dark eyes followed the cat-pupiled predators that were now watching her.

Dawn-Whispers was the first to react, the blades of his gauntlet extended with a heart-stopping click and he stepped forward with his arm raised ready to cut her to pieces. But just as Dag had sprung back the other bigger yautja's paw struck the blades down.

Dag watched as this visibly older yautja began clicking and hissing at the youth. This one's loc's weren't black, but a very dark grey, a few were almost as grey as some of Shale's. They were two and a half meters tall, muscles as thick as her head swelled on their biceps and solid veins carrying glowing green blood roped over the meat of their thighs. This one had seen their fair share of cycles, and the way they firmly put Dawn-Whispers down made it clear that whatever rank they held in this group was high.

Hissing like a cobra Dawn-Whispers retracted his blades, sharp eyes glaring at Dag, the older however was studying her intently from where she was crouched.

She didn't have a weapon, and that alone was what kept her spine where it was meant to be.

Dag stood, smoothed her soaking sweaty mohawk back and rubbed her hands together, "So, can y'all point me over to a bathroom?"