Chapter 13: Strangers in a Strange Land
"… remember that in the final choice a soldier's pack is not so heavy a burden as a prisoner's chains." – Dwight David Eisenhower
The Hunters, bearing their stolen human female cargo, had been trudging up the steep jungle slope for more than a cycle. In spite of their strength, progress was slow for the stout aliens as they carried their reluctant mates and expertly made their way in the darkness through the thick plant growth.
Duncan could feel the bellows of his ribcage move and hear his labored breathing as he toiled to move himself up the mountainside while carrying her on his back. She felt the sweat gather and run off his bulging arms where they held her legs. Her weary hands clung to the leather straps on his back and the ache of prolonged strain consumed her arms. While her living ferry made his way, the hum of insects annoyed her ears and sometimes she felt them land and bite. She had given up trying to brush them off as she concentrated only on clinging to the Yautja. They feasted relentlessly as she maintained focus on not slipping off and sliding to her death down the mountainside.
"Rest?" her voice made the hopeful query as the determined being beneath her did not falter in his step, but tromped on, covering the incline with heavy steps. A Hunter far ahead of them broke the barely readable trail.
"Not…yet," rumbled the voice through her personal jungle of black locks that hung in her face and rubbed at her skin. They were smooth but not soft. She wondered if they were growths like hair or fingernails, or if they could feel and had a circulation. There was not much else to do as Kash'ta lumbered on except study the feel of his dark appendages with the side of her face. She tried to see them in the night's pitch black, but made out only a few metallic, surrounding a lock here and there, shining when they crossed through tree filtered moonlight.
Duncan's legs, arms and hands were beginning to crescendo a scream of discomfort, exhausted from the abnormal position of being backpack for a Yautja. She was questioning how much longer she could stay in this strained pose when the world fell out from under her. A sudden slip of her mount's right leg as a rock slid under his foot sent the tiring young Hunter down on the trail, his arms abandoned their duty of pack support as they reached out to keep his face from hitting rock. Feeling her support leave, Duncan sprang away fearing that her limbs might be crushed beneath him. She landed in a heap upon the trail. He laid completely still, face-down for a moment while she hobbled on stiff legs to his side, felt her way up his body in the darkness and paced a hand on his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" she timidly asked as another woman astride a trudging Hunter passed them going up the mountain. Nearly spent Kylfa didn't give Kash'ta a second glance. In a sliver of moonlight, Duncan could dimly see the Yautja negotiate the steep plane, his human rucksack exhaustedly hanging on for dear life, her short legs splayed across his back as he supported her ankles.
A grunt answered the officer as Kash'ta lifted his head. Without another sound, he regained his feet and assisted her in mounting. Her body whined as she resumed the position she had held for the past three hours, but, gritting her teeth, she held on. If he wasn't going to complain about having to carry her up this torturous trail, she would try and endure also. As the grueling hike continued, Duncan felt her leg grow wet with moisture from an unknown source. Had they brushed by leaves drenched with dew that had soaked her foreleg?
Another half-hour of Herculean exertion and they made the top. The Hunter that had taken point and Kylfa were already there, resting on some rocks while the short female limped about trying to regain feeling in her legs. Kash'ta knelt for his rider to dismount and then sat upon the nearest rock and opened his med kit. Duncan watched in fascination while she stretched her legs to get rid of the tingling lack of circulation and was drawn closer to get a better look.
From the carefully organized kit the Hunter removed a tube and set it upon a rock. Then taking a small device from the medical gear, he pointed it at the tube, taking careful aim. What looked like a thin white laser beam hit it for only a second or two, and then Kash'ta took the tube from the rock and squeezed out the glowing blue contents onto a thin metal spatula that looked like an artist's tool.
He smeared the blue ooze onto the large gash on his palm in a single wipe. Now hovering, Duncan was startled by his mandibles snapping open and giving a roar that sent her flying onto her backside in surprise!
"Nice way to treat a girl," she muttered, getting up and brushing dirt and tiny bits of rock from her bare rear. "What the hell was that all about?"
Kash'ta growled back resentfully, "Hurt."
So, he CAN feel. Duncan realized she had been mentally portraying the aliens as unfeeling monsters. Of course they had nerve endings and they could feel pain! The idea somehow made them slightly less monstrous in her eyes. They are aliens, not movie monsters, she reminded herself. How much, if any, emotional response they had still remained to be witnessed.
She glanced down at her leg and saw a swath of green blood that had been smeared by his injured hand as he held her. She pondered that there had been no hesitation in his strength as her sweaty salt flesh had hit his deep wound and then rubbed the open edges of skin on the gash while the Hunter trod the nearly invisible trail left by the two Hunters ahead of them. The Yautja had supported her leg as though there had been no injury in his flesh. She was amazed at his tolerance for pain. No wonder the police reports warned that when you shot one, he just kept on coming. Best to empty your weapon into them and then run like hell. Save the damage survey for later when you were certain the one you had pissed off with bullets was not following you.
They rested for awhile, waiting for all the Hunters and their females to make the summit. The Hunters closed their eyes and dozed, while the women scratched and rubbed at their skin fitfully. Traveling at night was cooler in this tropical humidity, but in spite of that small comfort the women found their tender skin was most tempting to every biting insect the forest contained. Every one of them had red raised bite marks from head to toe and the itching was almost unbearable. The Healer had used up the small amount of ointment he carried and now the women were in misery.
The remaining Yautja finally made the top, and hurriedly released their female burdens. Sprawling on the ground, the Hunters gave their legs a needed break. The unloaded women walked for a bit to exercise their legs and then rested also. Kash'ta sent his lone unburdened scout on ahead as the remainder of them continued to recover. No one spoke, they just relaxed and dozed, waiting for the explorer to return.
The Hunter returned from his reconnoiter in short order with the welcome news that the downhill side was not as steep. During the descent he had discovered a small ravine with a rock overhang and a spring. Kash'ta quickly decided they could spend the day there. He ordered the rest period over and tired Hunters knelt or squatted, allowing their precious burdens to resume position on their backs. Then one-by-one, they began the downward trek.
"Can I walk, please," Duncan begged as her Hunter again knelt for her.
"No," he gruffed and she obediently climbed aboard, burying her face in the long locks rather than trying to observe the danger of their descent in the early hours of dawn. She balanced herself as well as she could with him, hoping and praying that he could not slip again. The downward trip was still strenuous as each Yautja balanced himself and his load.
The birds had just begun their early morning chirps and calls when the party clambered into the ravine. Peeking around Kash'ta's wide bicep, Duncan was elated to see a sparkling pool of blessed refreshment. She dismounted and waited for the Healer to do his customary check of the water. When he nodded, she plunged her hands into the coolness and brought them back, cupped around her drink. The woman sipped the purest, most delicious water she had ever tasted.
While everyone had their fill, the canteens were reloaded and then the blonde woman surprised everyone by jumping into the water. Soon all the women joined her as the Hunters sat on the bank, watching and talking as their still unclothed mates bathed.
Kash'ta spoke to his crew, "This is not what we had planned, but you are all holding up bravely. I regret the female was lost to the water carnivores near the salt sea. We will replace her at our first opportunity.
"I have been asking myself questions as we have journeyed. Why did the oomans not destroy our ship when we first hid behind their satellite? Why did they wait to fire upon us until after we had placed our ship there a second time, and had boarded ooman females with us?
"I have arrived at these conclusions: they could not see us the first time we hid there, but the second time – they could. That would mean that our transport was not completely hidden the second time. Would it not?"
His crew listened and none could object to his logic. The Hunter responsible for piloting the ship stood and confessed, "The error was mine, Honorable Leader. I was too eager to rut and did not pay attention to my duty. Punish me as you will." He lowered his head in dismal surrender.
Kash'ta continued, "Your error, the error of an undisciplined pup, has cost us an irreplaceable ship, plus the lives of two females and most probably my Second. I should, but will not, demand your life as there are so few of us to begin our new Clan and I realize that few are tasked with such a critical job while in the throes of rut. Still, you do bear responsibility."
The Leader took his short blade and made five bleeding cuts upon the Hunter's torso, saying, "I would give you lashes also if I had a whip! And I would give your female to the Hunter who lost his if yours was not already carrying your offspring!" The punished one did not make a single noise as the cuts were inflicted. Afterwards he returned to his place, his head low in shame. No move was made to staunch the bleeding or administer any medication. The Hunter allowed himself to bleed out until the skin closed naturally. For the rest of his life, five horizontal scars would tell the tale of one punished for dereliction of duty.
The punished Hunter and another volunteered to go out and obtain food. Kash'ta nodded his permission and then went over to where thick undergrowth offered slight comfort over the rocky soil.
As Kash'ta lay down to try and sleep, he challenged himself silently, have I failed? I should have made certain myself that we were hidden. Now I have lost an obstinate and challenging Second, two females, and the ship. How are we to get out of here? We cannot begin our new Clan here - this planet will soon be crawling with Arbitrators! We must find a way to obtain a ship and leave. Could we steal an Arbitrator's transport? Could we resume our course to the planet I selected for us, and not be tracked?
Matriarch, this is all your pauk-de fault! If you had not assisted in the re-creation of the Yautja female, all future offspring would be hybrid like us! We would be the Bloodlines who continued our Clans honor and glory! Now all Yaut awaits the birth and growth to mating age of the new Yautja females. Some day, there will be no hybrids – we are a lost generation of Hunters without our Sire's pride. Curse you, Matriarch!
Duncan and the other females were greatly refreshed from their bath. After drying in the dappled sunlight, they napped under the rock overhang as two of the Yautja went to procure meat. They slept on heaps of green that their mates had thoughtfully gathered and cut from the surrounding plants. While it offered no competition for a proper mattress, it was far better than trying to rest on bare rock.
The Hunters soon returned with skinned and cleaned bodies of some creatures. Duncan could not identify them and reassured herself that she probably didn't want to. A large haunch was roasted over a small smokeless fire that Kash'ta started with the same device he had used to prepare the blue healing liquid.
When the meat was charred on the outside, Kylfa took a short blade and sliced through the flesh, growling, "Come, oomans! Eat." The meat was bound to be hot, so Duncan stripped some large leaves from a plant and handed them out to her sisters to use for plates. Lining up, they each caught a rare slice dropped from the tip of Kylfa's sharp knife and sat down to consume it. They meat was tough, but flavorful and increasingly rarer toward the bone. The bright pink flesh didn't stop any of the ravenous women as they chewed laboriously at their servings.
The Hunters consumed theirs raw using hands and outer jaws as their utensils. When they had finished off every scrap of the carcasses, they went to the water to cleanse their faces and hands. The women followed suit after the Hunters had reseated themselves under the broad rock overhang.
The Healer watched the reddened, welted skins of the females as they splashed their faces down at the pool. He knew that the ooman skin was sensitive and must suffer greatly from the bites. But the ointment was gone, what could he do? Suddenly, he remembered an old remedy to soothe skin irritation and discourage further bites from his youth. In certain places in the jungles of Yaut, small creatures bit through the tough hide and fed on the blood of Hunters. This ancient remedy repelled the creatures; it might work for the oomans. He began to search the pool bank and scoured the entire perimeter without obtaining his objective. So growling something to Kash'ta, who nodded, the Healer left the ravine to go farther down the mountain.
When he returned he was bare of his shoulder plating which had been removed and used to carry soil from a rocky crevice. Taking his find to the others he gave direction. With a nod from the Leader, each of the Hunters took a large handful of dirt, placed it upon the ground directly in front of him and then, taking careful aim, peed a small amount onto it and stirred with a finger to make mud. They each wadded their mud into a ball and made to give it to their mates. The women shrank as the males approached them with the offering. Duncan looked to Kash'ta for an answer.
He responded by mimicking placing the muck on his arm and rubbing the skin. "Why?" his mate asked.
Kash'ta's limited English struggled to find a word. Finally he growled at Kylfa who made an attempt. "Bites. Heal bites. Stop bites. Under-stand?" The Hunter cocked his head at her and raised his brows, waiting for her response.
"Okay." She then turned to the rest of her group. "This is unsavory ladies, but it may just work. The wet mud may help our itching and the smell of Yautja pee may keep the little bastards at bay. It's worth a try, I guess." She lifted a fingers worth of the pungent poultice and smeared it onto her arm.
The others followed, making grimaces and scowls of distaste as they applied the urine soaked mud to their bodies. "Face too," reminded Duncan, as she rubbed it into her own. "You never know, we may have found the fountain of youth here. Who knows what this will do to our complexions!" Trying to find the humor in the situation greatly eased the other women as they began to plaster their faces a dark brown. "Urine of Youth," quipped one, "Output of Olay," offered another and "How about something natural, like 'Piss my Face?'".
The baffled Hunters looked on as their mates chattered while happily covering their skin with the mud. The females were about to apply the pungent sludge to each others backs when a loud authoritative growl penetrated their fun. "H'ko! No!" ordered Kash'ta, "Use…same!" He towered above, menacing them with his unclasped face. All the women froze and Duncan searched her mind for what the problem might be. She found nothing.
"Easy, big guy," she addressed him. "I do not understand." He bent down and grasped her hand that held the scoop of mud, pointing at her with the other hand he growled, "Use…this!" Then he strode to another woman, pointed to her and grasped her hand, "Use this!"
He was making for another hapless female when Duncan raised her hands in surrender and supplication, "Okay, okay. I think I understand." She turned around and addressed the others, Ladies! I think that each of us must only apply the mud that was given to us by our Hunter. I bet our guys do not want us to carry any scent but their own." She turned back and nodded her understanding to Kash'ta. He stood over them until they were finished, assuring that all females applied only the proper mud to another's back. When all the skin had been covered, the filthy, smelly females stood until they dried and then lay down to get some sleep. This time, the Hunters did not sleep with them, but slept at a distance which was an advantage not lost on the humans.
It was during the night of the next cycle that they finally made it down the mountain and onto flatter land. The females were allowed to walk beside their Hunter, even though it was difficult to keep up. Whenever one became exhausted her Yautja mate took hold of her and carted the dried mud, urine-scented female in his arms for a time. Even though the females feared and loathed the Hunters, they appreciated the rest periods of being carried.
Duncan noticed that the jungle had thinned out and they were now in an area of spaced trees beneath which moderate height grasses grew. As she walked she let the Yautja break trail for her and followed him through the bent and flattened grass in his wake. The sky was clear and the moon flooded the area with light. Suddenly there was movement in the trees to the right! A huge hand reached back to stop her walk and force her into a silent crouch along with the Hunter. In silence the band watched the motion grow closer until Duncan could make out tallish animals with substantial tails hopping. Kangaroos! We are somewhere in Australia!
A thread of hope lifted her spirits as at least she was able to identify what part of Earth they had landed on and knew that she would be able to communicate with people here. They watched until the mob had bounced by and then resumed walking until another movement of large creatures rustling the grass caused the Yautja and their mates to halt. Peering through the dim light Duncan could identify a herd of cattle. "Relax, big guy," she said, "It's only cows." The breeze was in their favor and neither the kangaroos nor the cows caught their scent.
Kash'ta caught her lack of fear and realized she knew these creatures and they would not be harmed by them. He stood and clasped her shoulder, then resumed his march across the savannah. The trees were giving out and a sea of scrubby grass lay ahead. Duncan wondered where they would find shelter for the next day.
The Leader called the group to an early halt while there were still trees on the grassland. They would rest here and be provided with shade during the hot day. The group was hungry and Kash'ta turned to his female. She had known the animals; perhaps she knew which creatures would provide the best eating. He rubbed his stomach and pointed to his mouth in the interstellar sign language that indicated hunger. Duncan nodded and pointed back to the herd, then rubbed her stomach and raised a finger to her mouth. If I'm gonna eat what he has killed, better it's a beef steak than some part from a roo! They may be great eating – I don't know, but I do know beef. Damn, it's gonna be tough. I'd give anything for some Adolf's right now. I need to gain his trust. Is there some other way I could be helpful to him? Duncan stood wondering as her Yautja and another left to hunt.
Kash'ta rumbled, ordering another to join him. They trekked back toward the cattle, as directed by his mate, to bring one or two down, leaving the others to guard the females. As they left camp, Kash'ta was surprised to find his mate following them. He pointed and growled, ordering her back.
"No! I want to help. I'm going to show you which one to kill. I don't want some rangy thin cow for supper, or some old bull. You may need my help to pick the best one."
Kash'ta again ordered the obstinate female back, this time with a mild shove and a larger growl. "Okay, okay. I can take a hint! I was just trying to help." Duncan returned to the group of women and slumped down on the ground to wait as the two Hunters disappeared into the bush.
She idly combed the sticks and leaves from her tangled hair with her fingers. Kylfa's short mate and the blonde woman came and set next to her for company. The blonde asked, "Do you know where they went?" as she nodded in the direction the Hunter's had taken.
"They are going to bring us back a steak for supper," Duncan smiled.
"You seem to be getting along with them quite well," the short woman observed.
"I'm at least managing not to piss them off," the officer quipped. "I'm trying to gain their trust. We may manage an escape eventually, perhaps when we are nearer to civilization."
Everyone heard the spooked cattle's bawling and the thunder of hooves. A cloud of dust in the distance marked the herds escape path. Fortunately the sounds were growing fainter and they didn't have to worry about a stampede overtaking them.
"Damn, they scared the whole herd!" the officer exclaimed. "Hope they caught us some food. The bugs are starting to look good to me." She grinned at the other two who made faces of repugnance. "Hey," she responded, "Bugs are eaten in many parts of the world, supposed to by high in protein, I think." Before she could say more, the other Hunters raised their heads and looked in the direction the two on the prowl for food had gone. Duncan was alert to their actions, knowing their senses where keener than hers.
With a snarled greeting, the victorious providers returned, each with a skinned and gutted yearling steer slung over his shoulder. Keen observation by the pair of Yautja had shown them that the young male prey they sought had been stripped of their seed makers. This procedure was often used by keepers of herbivores to ensure fat and tender flesh.
As the Hunters marched their kills into the camp, telltale dribbles of red blood on their faces betrayed that they had consumed, as was their right, the delectable livers of the steers. The rest of the entrails had been left in a heap as an offering for scavengers. The hides were neatly rolled up and would be turned into two sets of loincloths for the Hunters as they had done the work. With the hunting so easy, Kash'ta decided to stay here a few days to procure enough meat to preserve and hides to clothe them all.
The blonde pronounced that her father had been a butcher and that she had watched him cut meat from the hanging carcass on many occasions. Duncan took her by the hand and led her to one of the skinned steers. "Where is the tenderest meat?" she questioned.
The blonde pointed to the lumbar region, "Here, these muscles are used the least, the most tender cuts are from here." Duncan thanked her and tapped Kash'ta's arm that was sharpening his short blade with a rock in preparation for dividing the flesh between the Yautja and the oomans.
He looked down at her in annoyance and grumble rumbled, "What?"
She pointed to the area the blonde had indicated, "Meat for humans, here." His eyes grew bright and he chuffed at her boldness in claiming the best part of the kill for the females. She was a Leader who looked after her own, he knew from previous exchanges with her during this journey. It stood to reason that proper care of his ooman mate dictated that the softer meat should go to those who had puny jaws and teeth. Sometimes he thought the oomans exhausted more energy in chewing than they obtained from their food. Nodding, he neatly cleaved the meat, handing her the dripping part she had requested.
"Cook?" she asked him. He was clueless as to the meaning of the word, but understood her preference for burnt flesh as he had provided it before. This time, he took the laser and gave the chunk a few hissing blasts, after first removing it from her grasp and placing it upon a rock. She nodded back to him in gratitude and carefully tried to skewer the sizzling piece with several sticks she had found. The blunt sticks could not penetrate the meat.
With a huff of exasperation, Kash'ta grabbed the sizzling chunk in his bare hand and carried it to the waiting females. Placing it down on a flat rock, he took the blade and carved neat slices and fanned them out for the women to select from. Then he returned to carve up the raw meal his Hunters were famished for.
It was tough, but the women did not complain. Their hunger seasoned the meat well and they threw themselves into eating it. Holding up a slice in bare hands as the delectable juice ran through her fingers was not the way that Duncan usually enjoyed a steak. But she had to admit that even without salt this tasted good. The charred outside, the slightly red center - made her taste buds dance. All talking ceased as human and Hunter gorged until no shred of the meat was left.
Kash'ta watched his mate lick the juices from her hands and fingers after she had finished her meat. Her mud covering had diminished so he scuffed aside the roots of the grass with his taloned feet and dug up some soil. Wetting it thoroughly, he scooped up a wad of the mud in his hand and presented it to her. She nodded in recognition and began to apply it, actually grateful there was an answer to the itching and an effective repellent against the insects. Her Hunter wandered away and plopped under a nearby tree. He wished for a hot soak in a ship board pool and found himself nodding off as the day's heat began to build.
As he slipped into dreams, he saw an unknown ooman female approach him, dressed in the royal attire of a Matriarch. "Kash'ta," she began, "you have disgraced yourself! Stealing a ship? Murdering other Hunters? Abducting females and then letting them die under your leadership? Truly you are a hybrid! Unworthy of being called Hunter or ooman! His anxiety awakened him and he tossed restlessly, his own thoughts continuing to accuse him. He cursed the Matriarch who haunted him even in dreams.
The second was gravely injured. He had found a large tree crotch and dragged himself into it. There he heated and applied the painful healing medication to his bruised, bitten and crushed knee, and lower leg. After his ringing howl of agony had frightened all the nearby wildlife, he waited. Waited and slept to preserve his strength. The Yautja's superior healing ability, along with the medication, would hopefully act together to preserve his life. If not, he would use the last of his strength to drop from the tree. On the jungle floor his body would soon disintegrate as the native life forms dined upon his rotting flesh. Even his bones would be preyed upon by creatures large and small and whatever they might leave would soon be consumed by the jungle itself as vines grew over the remnants and fallen leaves buried them.
The Blue Planet cycles went by, and the wounded Hunter kept to his perch, often dozing. His canteen was emptied by the third cycle, but he could not climb down to refresh it. Pulling at the vines surrounding his post he fashioned a long length which he tied around his canteen and then lowered into the river below. When the canteen was full, he carefully pulled it back up. He was able to use this several times daily to quench his great thirst. As he healed, he spent less time sleeping and began to observe the environment around him. There were many strange animals unlike any he had seen before.
A small creature ambled across the forest floor, sniffing and snuffling at everything as it looked for edibles. It had an amazing coat of stiff long bristles that looked like thorns. The Second watched as the thorn coat did not bend easily when it walked through the brush and concluded it was a coat designed for defense.
He watched more of the large, scaly, long faced and thick-tailed animals that had attacked him. They seemed constantly hungry and watchful for any other creature to enter the water or doze off upon the bank. He was amazed at how fast they could move for a short distance upon the land.
By the tenth day, he was ravenous. He slowly flexed the knee and found he could move it. There was pain but not beyond what he could tolerate. Slowly he stood in the tree and let the leg begin to bear his weight. It held strong and he knew he could begin to use it. The limb would be very prone to reinjury for a time so he must be careful.
He lowered himself to the ground and gingerly walked back to the large sea. The trees along the edge were too small to hold him, but he could walk along beside them and duck into the lush growth should he need to disappear. His backside had become dry and irritated from sitting in the tree and he longed for a hot soak and ointment rubbed into his scales. He also desired to hunt something that might provide a large enough hide to fashion a loincloth from. Protection of one's parts was important – especially in an alien environment.
He trekked along, with the sea and the sunrise to his left, the land and mountains to his right, sleeping by day and only traveling at night when he captured small lizards and rodents to feed upon. On the third night he was surprised to see lights traveling inside the forest. His leg was nearly healed and he plunged into the small trees to get a closer look. As the small trees were overtaken by larger ones, he left the ground and leapt from trunk to wavering trunk until he saw a vehicle track on the ground. The track was along a wide fairly smooth path that had been cut through the jungle. Close examination of the pattern showed him that there had been two vehicles which had come this way only a short time ago. He reasoned that ooman settlements must not be far away and again went back to the beach where the going was easier.
He followed the shoreline until he stood at the mouth of a bay made by where another river emptied into the sea. Across the bay were the lights of a small ooman settlement. The river was too wide at this point to cross without entering it. Not wishing to encounter those toothed water creatures with jaws as strong as one of his traps, the Hunter decided to hike further inland, following the waterway until it narrowed. Perhaps there would be a place to safely cross farther upstream.
All night he followed the meandering run as it swerved through the jungle terrain. The trees were larger here and afforded him a causeway well above the water. He hurled himself from tree to tree clawing into the bark with taloned fingers and toes. Finally, near daybreak, the river had thinned to a smaller stream. He spent the early hours fashioning a strong woven length from the indigenous vines and fastened it to the stoutest tree he could find along the bank. He should wait until nightfall, but impatience drove him on. Kash'ta's new Clan was doomed he had decided, and he needed to find a way off this rock. With luck, he could return to Yaut and claim no knowledge of the whereabouts or antics of Kash'ta and crew. Better to be an unfairly treated hybrid there, then to die without securing any offspring following a poor leader.
Holding the vine, which was secured out over the water on a strong thick branch, he walked back over the bank as far as possible on a lower branch. Then, sprinting forward towards the water with true power in his healed leg propelling him, he reached the trunk and pushed off over the running stream with all his might. The vine swung far out over the water, allowing the Hunter to come within grasping distance of the branched limbs of the other shore. There was no time to select for strength as his hand found the supple branch, and grabbed it as his other hand released the vine. The thin bough bent nearly to the water under his considerable weight, but did not break. He was able to grasp other branches as it bent and soon scrambled to the far side's tree trunks in safety – he had crossed the water!
Now he turned to follow the river's meander back to the bay and to where the small ooman settlement lay. In that settlement, he hoped to find information about the nearest city where the locally pregnant females gathered for inspection by a Healer. As he traversed the trees, he thought about what he might say to the Healer that would afford him an honorable transport back to Yaut.
He had not rested during this cycle's daylight until he caught sight of the small town. He could see roads and vehicles rolling along them. Finding a secure spot high up, the Hunter finally slept until the night.
He awakened before the moon's rays broke over the water and he could hear the sounds of a few ooman vehicles in the distance. He traveled toward the sounds, coming down once from the trees to sip from a small trickling creek that slipped through the tangle of roots making up the jungle floor. Going on, the trees suddenly stopped. He peered from around a trunk to see an expanse of engineered roadway and watched as the forward lights of the ooman's vehicles occasionally roared by him. He would stay in the tree line and make his way back toward the lights of the settlement by the sea. Soon, he would know where the Healer transports landed. Soon he would be off this Paya-forsaken rock!
Lacking a working cloaking device, the Second stayed hidden on the roof of an abandoned old building on the edge of the town. The structure could still hold his weight, so he climbed the side and took position on the away side of the roof peak, peering over the edge to spy on the streets and walkways. He had been awake for several cycles now, but as he was young he could go some time without sleep.
Oomans walked in front of the buildings across the street from him. There were young males, old females accompanied by small panting creatures held in check by collars and lines, and a few couples. He watched them all and was particularly interested in the many types of vehicles rolling beneath his perch. The warm Blue Planet sun baked his scales as he stretched luxuriously upon the sloped shingles. What a pleasant place for a nap! Confident of his hiding place, the Hunter allowed himself to enjoy a short doze, taking a moment to hook his dewclaws into the roof squares to provide an anchor against slippage.
As the Hunter slept, he did not realize that messages from the Arbitrators were flooding the law offices across the planet. The message alerted law enforcement and the military of the potential presence of a band of dangerous Yautja on the surface, possibly accompanied by kidnapped women. Humans were requested to report any suspicious sightings.
The few officers of the small town's police station read the communication from the Federal Police with a lack of enthusiasm. Nothing exciting had happened here since the old sea captain the town was named for had landed. They would keep their eyes open as they patrolled the town or fielded calls, but expected to find nothing.
The slumbering Yautja started awake from a strange loud noise coming from the road below. Awakening with a jerk, he rolled over onto his stomach and pulled himself up the roof to peek over the top. What he saw made his side jaws gape in amazement. Down below was an ooman astride a two-wheeled ground vessel, his black-gloved hands holding the grips at the end of two protruding bars. The black machine gleamed in the sunlight and sinuously hugged the road curves as it zoomed out of sight. The Hunter watched in fascination as the vehicle and rider roared down the road and into the town.
The Hunter envied the shining, sleek transport that sported a growl worthy of Cetanu. He slid down off the roof, landing gracefully on his feet. If he was to go into the town, he needed some clothing, he decided.
Stealthing through several backyards, the bottom-side naked alien found a clothesline with sheets and towels hung out to dry. Admiring a burgundy flat sheet billowing in the slight breeze, he snatched it from the line and was off to another hiding place where he could fold and tear the fabric to form an acceptable loin cloth. At last attired, he set off sneaking across the rooftops to find the thunderous, growling machine.
It did not take long to find as the Yautja's sensitive hearing, as well as the scent of fresh exhaust assisted in locating it. The ooman rider had parked it along side many other similar transports in a line along one side of a street. Bldgs has bright flashing lights, smoke and loud music came form it. The rider then went into the building below him. The Second secured himself on the building's roof to wait and observe the landscape. As he looked around, he saw other riders coming. Their machines were smaller than the one he had followed, but were still admirable for their sleekness and their growls. The ooman's parked them in the growing line and entered the building below him. He had noticed the loud sounds coming from the structure, and they grew briefly louder any time an ooman entered. As the light dimmed, bright lights began to glow, and some to flash around him. They made an annoying buzz to his ears and as it was dark now, he climbed down to the line of strange tranports below.
Once on the ground, he looked at the row, evaluating all the small ground ships for size, strength and appearance, he finally decided that the one he had followed here was still his first choice. He went to it, and, grabbing the handles, tried to move it backward. The back wheel moved but the two front pieces that went down to the wheel would not budge, so with a grunt the Hunter picked it up and moved it out of the row to where he could fully inspect it.
The door behind him gave a squeak and he ducked down behind his prize to hide, watching a ooman emerge and go to another vehicle. After mounting, the male took something from his pocket and inserted it into the machine. Taking the handles he turned his right hand and the machine roared to life. It backed out of the line to the road, the Second saw some hand and left movements and the strange transport shot away. Soon the rider was nowhere to be seen. The rider had made some other movements with his left hand and the Second was not sure what the motions had to do with running the machine.
Leaving the metal vehicle in place, he melted back into the shadows to watch. Over the next few hours several oomans emerged and rode off on their two-wheeled wonders. Each time, the Hunter watched them insert a bit of metal into somewhere on the machine, and he noticed it was not always the same place. The turned their right hands and then their left hand pushed a button before they rode off. He watched closely but did not understand how hand movement affected the mechanism. It was obvious to the Hunter that it would take a bit of study, trial and error to learn to operate this beast. It was also obvious that he needed a small metal object in order to start the machine. He placed the bike back in its parking space and waited for its rider to emerge.
Some hours later, a tall ooman attired in black leather adorned with fringe tried to make his inebriated way from the porch to his motorbike. He nearly fell as he tried to swing his leg over the saddle. Trying again, he successfully sat his flat ass on the worn seat leather and fumbled in a pants pocket for the key. Finding it, he inserted it, and rotated his hand. The machine's display lights came on, and then a light shot out of the front. The Hunter watched closely as the ooman was using his left hand to reach over and pushed a button. Then he used his right hand to rev the engine to a mighty roar. He was about to put it in gear with his left foot while he compressed the clutch handle on the left handlebar, when the force of a Mack truck hit him from the side and knocked him from his seat. He got a vague impression of a very large form with flying braids and a bizzarely huge, open mouth with incisors bigger than a dog. Then he passed out.
The Hunter caught the still running mechanism as it's rider fell to the dirt. He dragged it from its space around to the back of the building leaving a clear trail of footprints and sideways tire marks. Then he hauled it through the trees until he found a cleared two-track that would afford him a private practice space.
In the relative security of the jungle, the alien closely examined the rumbling vehicle, brushing his hand down the smooth black tank graced with images of red flames. His finger pads touched the unreadable English letters that spelled out, Boss Hoss on the side. The Hunter's mandibles spread in pleasure, this machine was beautiful! He would learn to operate it.
He felt the weight balanced in his hands as they gripped the bars. Gracefully he swung up onto the seat and settled – it felt good. The rumbling ran through the metal and into his body giving him a feeling of power. He throttled it backward and slipped the clutch, the metal monster immediately complained and bucked, surprising the Hunter who soon found himself with one side of his face wiping the ground and his leg shoved well into the mud by the heavy machine. He gathered scrapes and bruises during few false starts as he figured how to control it and made a few brief sprints down the narrow street as he learned his balance and gained some practice in how to accelerate and stop. He even practiced turning it off and restarting the rumbling engine.
This gave him the confidence to finally take it out on the roadway that other vehicles were using. Once more he started the behemoth and successfully cruised down the road and merged onto the highway. Once there, he opened it up and thrilled to the throb between his thighs as the wheels ate up the highway. He began to swerve across the lanes learning to balance with the change of direction as he made large letter 'S' forms weaving in between the traveling cars and trucks.
The town police responded to the frantic call from some blithered yank that 'somebody stole my ride!' Perhaps there would be a bit of excitement this evening. They made for their cars and the main highway leading out of town.
Oncoming traffic was treated to an amazing sight as the Yautja sped down the highway. A powerful motor bike with a bizarre rider aboard, his rasta locks flying and horrific face wide with unholy glee which quickly ebbed as the sting of night-flying insects hitting the intra-mandible webbing at one hundred miles per hour made him wince. It was not bad tasting though, he decided, wiping the smashed goo from the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
The ride was exhilarating! The Second felt invincible as he rode his rumbling steed and chortled at the ooman faces as he wove in and out the oncoming traffic. He would be remembered! He wondered what stories they would tell others of their encounter on the highway this evening. He opened the throttle until he was running flat-out and screamed around the bend in the road, a great dark mop head of streaming locks flying out behind him.
As he rounded the curve and straightened back out, his eyes opened wide at the roadblock of Queensland Police in front of him, their cars pulled across the road, lights blaring full beams and a row of oomens standing with weapons drawn. He chortled at the irony, he would never leave this planet but at least he could take some of them with him.
Pointing the bike's fore fender straight at the barrier ahead, he laid forward on the tank presenting as small a target and possible. A hail of bullets greeted him and would not stop. He felt the hot pellets hit and tear through his flesh.
The police saw the rider as he slumped to one side, pulling the mighty engine down until a spray of sparks spouted from the careening machine along with the scream of metal grinding into the road. The police scattered as the mound of motocycle and Yautja screeched toward them and crashed into the front tire of one of their SUVs. Immediately the impact ripped and lit the bike's gas tank. Police were running for their lives when the explosion smacked them to the ground as a ball of fire and light lifted the front of the SUV up like a rearing horse. The Hunter was thrown from the impact and rode his blood and flesh underneath the parked vehicle. The recovered police ran to the other side of the patrol vehicle.
No alien body greeted them. Instead, drips of green bright blood marked a trail which they followed into the trees beside the road. Relentlessly it dripped onward over fallen limbs and ground plants until it reached the edge where the great river met the saltwater and blended with the rhythms of the tide. The men looked out into the liquid darkness and a few shined flashlights over the rough surface.
Out in the water's middle, a shapeless turmoil rolled and twisted in the struggle to rend strong flesh from heavy bones. Yautja meat was tough, but saltwater crocodiles were not terribly picky.