Don't forget to check out the OVERHAULED version of CHAPTER 4! A BIG thanks to 2.0, and also to Jenni for supplying some much appreciated artwork, and Christmas humor.
M.
Chapter 37: Follow, Fall, Forget…
The O'ka'an sun had always been strong, notably so in the late afternoon. It was warmer than most Yautja inhabited worlds, given that the planet was quite close to the system's large sun.
The O'ka'an Solar System had been discovered many thousands of years ago, and the primary planet's seasons were perfect for sustaining a vast agricultural infrastructure. The wet season was short, but very intense, and the dry seasons were long, though sometimes brought rain as well. Several thousand years prior to the discovery of O'ka'an, such a thing was not very common. But as the Yautja populace grew and expanded further out into the galaxy, a world with these characteristics was a very welcomed find.
More often than not, all the different Yautja inhabited worlds were known for different reasons. Yau'te was one of the oldest known Yautja worlds, and the political center of the Yautja species. It was possibly the most densely populated of all the major Yautja capitals, and a great percentage of its landmass was covered by structures.
Rl'sar-tyh, despite the fact that it was a smaller planet on the outer edges of the galaxy, was possibly one of the most popular. This world had first been selected as a scouting outpost to explore other galaxies, but it rapidly became known for its vast deposits of a rare ore that had only occurred naturally on two other known planets. The ore was used to create a very unique, high tensile super-alloy known as o'nt-uk. This material was used only in the production of prestige weaponry. Because of its rare mineral composition, Rl'sar-tyh became very popular to Yautja blood clans that specialized in weapons production. It also became a haven for many unfortunate clans who struggled to find employment, as several large mining settlements were created to harvest the o'nt-uk ore. Like all Yautja worlds, the climate was warm through most of the planet's year, but had a nasty habit of throwing out short, but bitterly cold winters.
Another of the more influential Yautja worlds was Kyr'aak, home to the larger bodied Skar'ku warriors. This large planet had a history almost as long as that of Yau'te, generations upon generations of warriors had been born and bred here. These War Bringers, or 'Skar'ku' as they were more commonly known, were some of the most fearsome Yautja in existence. Kyr'aak had been the first planet to have knowingly affected the evolution of Yautja; only three known worlds had been branded for throwing out oddities. But none like the Skar'ku of Kyr'aak. Tens of thousands of years of progression had caused these warmongers to evolve larger and stronger than any other. Most clans lived purely for the hunt, and made great income from trading alien artifacts. Though this did indeed seem primitive, the High Council of Kyr'aak embraced all ruling of the Leading Yautja Order. Hunting and skull bashing were not the only things Kyr'aak was appreciated for, though when it came time to war, they were always welcomed. Like Rl'sar-tyh, Kyr'aak had several large mines, all of which were used to harvest ores to produce structural building alloys. The materials produced upon Kyr'aak were often used in shuttle construction, another trade that was predominant upon the large, dry planet.
After events that had occurred in the not too distant past, the Yautja world known as O'ka'an was possibly one of the most controversial, especially among the other factions of the Dark Blade Clan. Roughly four years ago, the seemingly innocent actions of a young Blade operative had set in motion a chain of events that had all but destroyed the Dark Blade Clan's reputation, not to mention honor upon O'ka'an. For many, many years the Dark Blades had been respected by Yautja in every corner of the galaxy, but like every civilization, there were those who would challenge a clan's judgment at every turn. There were a great many clans known to be hostile toward almost any military power greater than their own, the Ayn'kra of O'ka'an being one of those. During that most unfortunate time on O'ka'an, the Ayn'kra Clan saw the best opportunity to bring down what they saw as a 'rival' power, and took it.
Thousands of years of jealousy, distain and hatred toward the Dark Blade Clan had been instilled upon to all the warriors of the Ayn'kra, be they blood related or not. The Elders of Ayn'kra could not leave well enough alone. When it became blatantly obvious that time would certainly be the end of the Dark Blade Clan presence on O'ka'an, they made plans to strike. When the moment came to deal a crushing blow to their enemy, they did so in spineless secrecy, dressing as Council Guards so that their cowardice would be misdirected.
Despite all the planning and effort that went into their assault, the clan Elders overlooked one small detail. They didn't bet on the fact that the young operative responsible for the Dark Blades downfall would return. As far as any Yautja in the 'know' was concerned, he was away, trying to regain his own lost honor, in an attempt to save his clan. But return he did, under the orders of a god no less. Doing as he had been instructed, the Blade specialist fought his way in and retrieved another young operative. Alas, he was rewarded with only carnage and heartache. But his target, this female he was to rescue, would come to be a very valuable companion, not only in combat but in the great journey to come…
The undersides of bare, clawed feet were welcomed with warm sands as three reasonably well seasoned warriors stepped out into the center circle of the Ayn'kra kehrite. In the middle of the dueling ring, there was another standing, waiting for them. His body, though slightly older than most others in the training chamber, appeared well conditioned and healthy. The male in the center shrugged his shoulders impatiently and stretched his upper body as the three warriors began to circle him cautiously. All four Yautja wore only basic training bottoms and the three warriors that were circling the other all brandished long, hardwood training staffs. Many of the blooded warriors of the clan soon gathered around the center circle to watch. It was something of an irregularity that Ty'ryl-ayn, the Ayn'kra representative to the O'ka'an council, would train with such well seasoned hunters.
The three that circled their Elder swapped nervous glances; they were all more than three hundred years of age, all in their prime and all very adept warriors. All Ayn'kra hunters knew that Ty'ryl-ayn was a great hand to hand combatant, but surely even he could not hope to come away from this without injury, especially considering he was unarmed. A quiet, but confident voice cracked the shuffling sounds of the circling warriors.
"You have been told what to do. Do not differ from these instructions. Or I will kill the three of you."
The three all looked at each other and nodded anxiously; indeed they had been informed of what Ty'ryl-ayn wanted them to do. And none of them wanted to get on the bad side of the 'young' Elder, or there would be hell to pay. As the warriors closed in upon Ty'ryl-ayn they could see that his eyes, his expression, the way he constantly fidgeted, was different. But they all bowed nervously to their Elder as was customary to begin a dueling match, and as was normal for Ty'ryl-ayn, he did not return the gesture.
The instant the first blow had been swung, Ty'ryl-ayn's face twisted into a contorted, out of control grimace. Something new pumped through his veins; never before had he felt this kind of power. He watched as the three staff attacks came at him from all sides with blinding speed. Ty'ryl-ayn snarled and swiped the first staff away with unnatural speed while ducking under the other two with ease. It took only microseconds for the three attackers to right themselves and strike again. This time Ty'ryl-ayn changed his stance, remaining close to the ground, growling like some caged animal. There was a stunned silence from the other Yautja watching the event as the Elder, so blind with power, deflected yet another staff blow with his left forearm, then grabbed out with his right, forgetting about the third.
A sharp crack rang out as the third staff impacted with the back of Ty'ryl-ayn's head. The blow should have been enough to daze any warrior, no matter how strong. But in his current state, the Elder felt nothing, even as a slight trickle of blood began to run down the back of his neck. The three attackers backed away slightly.
"FIGHT TO THE BEST OF YOUR ABILITY!" snarled Ty'ryl-ayn in a sudden outburst.
With speed like no other had ever seen, the Elder lashed out, striking the closest warrior in the middle of his chest. There was a hollow whoosh followed by several cracking sounds as the air was forced from his lungs and several ribs broke. As the Yautja staggered backward, trying to right himself against the pain, another stepped into his place, holding his long weapon in his right fist and leading with a lightning fast left backhand, followed by a wide sweeping strike from the staff. The backhand blow landed with a thick sounding slap against the side of Ty'ryl-ayn's head; he wasn't fast enough to stop it, but he could see the staff coming.
Shards of age-dried hardwood splintered everywhere as the staff impacted with the Elder's braced forearm. Again, it was an impact that would have caused a normal Yautja great pain. While the warrior hesitated out of shock, Ty'ryl-ayn stepped back then sprang forward off his trailing leg. The Elder snarled, driven by bloodlust as he twisted his hips first, then the rest of his body in midflight, executing a near perfect spinning kick. The warrior could not have stopped the attack if he had wanted to; there was just too much force behind the kick. Everything swam as he floundered around on the ground, trying to recover what was left of his weapon. Ty'ryl-ayn just hissed as he kicked him out of the way and turned to face the final combatant.
His eyes ablaze, the Elder stepped toward the remaining Yautja and swiped at him with a rapid left hand strike. The younger male ducked under the attack and feinted backward, undercutting the long staff at his Elder's throat. As the bottom point of the weapon whistled toward its target, Ty'ryl-ayn's mandibles pulled back into a feral, almost insane smile. The remaining Hunter was quick to react as his superior snatched the end of the staff in his left hand; it was a show of force he would not be able to triumph. The Elder snarled as his underling released his grip on the staff and held up both his hands.
"Natural this is not…" the younger male took a step backward in concession; he knew something was influencing Ty'ryl-ayn. "This is dishonorable to Jehdin combat…"
Though many other Yautja in the training hall shared similar thoughts, none would dare say anything. An eerie silence befell the sands of the kehrite as the Elder's head twitched slightly to one side and his eyes seemed to slip out of focus for a second. The remaining combatant stood upright, waiting. He knew right there and then that he would die; Ty'ryl-ayn was the type to do such a thing, just to prove a point. Still holding the end of the staff with his left hand, the older of the two drew the weapon around and over his right shoulder. His features twisted into distortion as he wound up as hard as he could and let loose his left strike. Every pair of eyes in the chamber watched in slow motion as the staff whipped toward the younger warrior's head, the distance closing with a deep whistling sound.
The final warrior closed his eyes as his obvious demise approached; he just prayed that it would be quick, free of pain, clean. But nothing happened. He opened his eyes hesitantly to see the staff hovering right beside his head. Ty'ryl-ayn smiled evilly at his underling.
"Thought I was going to kill you, did you not?"
"Ye… Yes, you are correct," the Yautja swallowed "…Elder."
"You need to learn to trust me…" Ty'ryl-ayn growled, touching the long staff against the side of the younger warrior's head, his left fist still clenched tight around the other end.
"Of course, Elder." came the shaky reply.
"Your first lesson in relation to your wavering faith…" Ty'ryl-ayn lowered his voice to a heinous whisper, "I always consummate my word…"
The last thing the confused warrior heard was a deafening shriek as his Elder struck out, twisting his torso to place all his body weight behind his right palm. Using his left hand and the underling's head as bracing points, he hit the staff, splintering it as the heavy blow stressed it to the breaking point. Ty'ryl-ayn's left arm had been locked solid as he lashed out, sending the sudden impact from his strike down the long staff before it shattered. The younger male's head whipped to one side with so much force that the first and second vertebrae in his neck shattered. He was dead before he hit the ground.
A stunned silence followed, the Yautja that had been watching returning to their training as soon as Ty'ryl-ayn turned to glare at them. As the Elder walked from the dueling circle, he did not even look at the two warriors who had climbed to their feet and were staring at their deceased friend. He simply growled and kept walking.
"Get the body out of here, tidy the center circle, then clean yourselves…"
The two males dare not challenge Ty'ryl-ayn's word, especially after his little display, but they did share a glance, each knowing what the other was thinking 'To hell with honor, we should kill him right now…'. Sadly, their want was strong, but their resolve was not. It would be truly imbecilic to attempt such a thing in a kehrite full of 'loyal' Yautja, no matter how just it was.
Yautja, both curious and worried for the actions shown by one of their primary Elders, stole shy glances as he made his way to the main entranceway. His scent was a potent mixture of his usual arrogance coupled with an overwhelming bloodlust. Sadly, Ty'ryl-ayn's show of dominance at the cost of honor meant a great deal to those who were devout followers of the Ayn'kra ways. In the public eye, they upheld the newer version of 'honor', but behind the walls of their own compound, the rules were different. Every Yautja of O'ka'an knew this, and unfortunately, the Ayn'kra were not the only clan to behave in such a manner. There were quite a few spread across the Yautja inhabited systems of the galaxy. These were Yautja who were very strong believers of the old ways, but their ignorance made them forget about the honor they must uphold, not just as a clan, but as a species. It was only because of the fear of exile that they followed the New Order. If most of these Elders had their way, they would still condemn their weak to slavery. As it was, some of the un-blooded younglings were still treated that way.
The large, over-adorned doors were pushed open abruptly from the outside before Ty'ryl-ayn was within reach. His chest felt laden as he watched his father stride into the chamber, a permanent scowl on his ancient, weathered face. Ho'c'kra-ayn was the highest ranking Yautja of the Ayn'kra Clan; he had sired many offspring, quite a few of which had lost their lives trying to live up to his ridiculous expectations. It was widely whispered that the only reason Ty'ryl-ayn was still alive after his father's many 'tests' was that he more than likely pushed his siblings into harm's way in order to escape. Ty'ryl-ayn remained the oldest son of Ho'c'kra-ayn, and though his hunting practices may not have been anything exceptional, he had a strong mind and was a fine diplomat and tactician. Many surgical militant strikes and hostile takeovers had been designed by Ty'ryl-ayn to an almost flawless degree, including the assault upon the Dark Blade compound. Though he was a strong politician, like all in that field of expertise, he had to be extremely careful about his true 'agenda'. Though when it ultimately came down to the crunch, it was still up to Ho'c'kra-ayn to give the orders, a position the ancient male knew his son was eager to fill.
Ty'ryl-ayn hated being confronted by his father in the presence of clan underlings, because like it or not, he had to defer to him. The younger of the two Elders staggered a bow as his father approached, personal guard in tow. His current mood was hard to control due to the experimental substance he had used before his Jehdin combat, but he had to keep his head about him. Ty'ryl-ayn swallowed his resentment and tried the best he could to hide his scent.
"Greetings Elder…"
"Get to your feet." grunted Ho'c'kra-ayn, "come with me."
The two Yautja stepped from the Kehrite, out into the brilliantly warm afternoon sun. Even in his present state, the warmth did serve to lift Ty'ryl-ayn's mood, slightly. Father and son began to walk away from the training chamber, toward the large center of the Ayn'kra compound. Many Yautja, both male and female, could be seen going about their duties as they would when not off-world: training, cleaning, trading and schooling younglings. The Clan's compound itself was much larger than it needed to be, and over ornamented to suit. As they neared the large center assembly area, Ho'c'kra-ayn turned to his personal guard and grunted.
"Wait here. If anyone is seen attempting to listen to our converse, detain them…"
The guards nodded to their Elder and began to walk slowly in opposite directions, cutting a large circle formation around the father and son, watching like hawks as other passed, looking sideways at them. Many Yautja, both Ayn'kra and public alike, had noticed Ho'c'kra-ayn's ever increasing agitation and paranoia in his old age. Not many others had their personal guard escort them in their own land. The old male cleared his throat, spat on the ground and spoke quietly, though Ty'ryl-ayn knew the tone in his voice all too well.
"There is much unrest among the Council…"
"There is always unrest among the Council." grunted Ty'ryl-ayn, "It will settle, given time."
"I may have granted you leniency in the past, but trust me when I say, pup, that my patience is wearing thin with you. I should not have approved the Dark Blade assault, the timing was not right."
"My apologies… Father." Ty'ryl-ayn mumbled through gritted tusks. He hated being called 'pup'; after all, he was more than four hundred and fifty years of age. "But the timing was perfect, there was next to no challenge, and the only witness that can prove that it was not O'ka'an Council guards is in our custody…"
"Next to no challenge?" spat Ho'c'kra-ayn "We lost fourteen warriors! And just because you have Bre'ta'ak in custody does not mean he will tell you anything, no matter how much you torture him. Kill him and be done with this game you are playing."
"Close to breaking he is… Soon he will divulge information that will aid our strikes against other separatist clans."
"Deal with one problem at a time!" snarled the ancient male. He clenched both fists and smacked them both hard around either side of his son's head. "What about the escapee from the Dark Blade Compound? Neglected to mention that did you not…! And also, the visitor that strolled into a stronghold we held, single handedly killed numerous warriors, including an experienced Secondary, and then strolled out again with a direct witness!"
"Y… you… How did you know…?" stuttered Ty'ryl-ayn, seething mad. He thought he had covered his tracks well.
"Do not patronize me, pup. If I did not keep my eyes on you, you would have been dead long ago. The only reason I gave you standing in the Council of O'ka'an is because I was sick to death of politics! It was just pure luck you happened to be sufficient enough not to bring the Ayn'kra down with your stupidity!"
"I… I am sorry father; I have betrayed your trust…" Ty'ryl-ayn was shocked to learn his father had been spying on him, shocked to the point that it blocked out his anger. The only thing he could do was play his ace in the hole, one he had been saving for a situation such as this. "I have information that will possibly turn the Council away from this…"
"Your operative among Avaal'ekan's ranks has finally discovered something useful…?"
"I… you…" Ty'ryl-ayn felt the blood drain from his face before it returned in a flush with renewed rage. "HOW DARE YOU SPY ON ME!"
"Playing a dangerous game you are… You need to start thinking, pup. Gave you everything you have, I did. I made you what you are. And believe me when I say I can take it all away."
"It was Syn'kra-vaal…" snarled Ty'ryl-ayn, "… Of all Yautja to affront my assault, it was that…" he was so furious he could not speak.
"And he has the female…?"
"They are in the company of Daan'sha." Ty'ryl-ayn admitted as he hung his head in shame, his anger gone with the revelation.
"You do not know what you have done… DO YOU?" Ho'c'kra-ayn suddenly exploded and hit his son so hard that he was knocked backwards several feet.
"Wait…" Ty'ryl-ayn spat a mouthful of blood on the ground "I am waiting for a data burst from Siy'kaa… My operative…"
"YOUR OPERATIVE FAILED!" bellowed Ho'c'kra-ayn, unable to contain himself.
"How can you possibly know that…?"
"Because…" the older male stepped toward his son and grabbed him by his neck, pulling him close. Eyes hard, he spoke in a snarl "I have had an operative in that facility since its inception…"
A great many of the large corridors that wound through Daan'sha's clandestine facility were quite dimly lit as a promising pair of Yautja ambled quietly through, whispering to each other. Well, one of them was whispering, the other was yapping away quite excitedly, and she had been doing so since they had left the dining chamber…
"… But that is how he did it! Is that not amazing?" Cassandra beamed down at Syn as they walked toward the Hub.
"And you learned this from the Darkling…? While your minds were connected via Ju'lyn-zal…?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Seems farfetched does that not?" asked Syn with a smile.
"Farfetched…? You are talking about farfetched…?"
"Fair point…" smiled the male.
"I do not know how else to explain it… Jul told me just how infinite the higher planes are. She said it is something that could not be put into words, and she is right. Though I think I got a very minute glimpse while the Dark One shared his memories with me, but it just proves how powerful he must really be."
"Did you happen to learn anything else of interest while you were inside his mind…?"
"No, it was over before it began. I think I was limited only to what the Darkling was concentrating on at the time…"
"That is unfortunate, but powerful he is indeed. He certainly did a superb job resurrecting you…" Syn winked up at his lovely mate before his eyes wandered slowly down her body as she walked.
"Stop teasing..." she shoved his shoulder playfully and changed the subject, "So tell me, how are we to deal with Siy'kaa…?"
"Not with torture…" grumbled Syn at the hint of bloodlust in her tone, "Unfortunately, torture and fear are not reliable ways of interrogation."
"They are not…? Reliable they are for Oomen…"
"Yautja are much more resilient than Oomen, and a hostage will tell you anything to stop pain, whether it is the truth or not."
"I think I know what you are getting at." Cass smiled and concentrated hard, her tusks wavering as she formed the words. It was the first time she had tried to speak the human tongue in her new form, and it was harder than she first thought. "Good C…Cop, Bad Cop…"
"What?"
"Sorry, that is hard…" laughed Cassandra in her natural language "That is what the Oomen call it. It means one of us appears very hostile to the target, and the other appears to sympathize with them, though not too much…"
"Correct, but remember, Siy'kaa is smart, we will have to do this just right because he knows, either way, he will wind up dead. You will need to convince him that we can protect him."
"And what will you be doing…?"
"Bad Cop…" replied Syn in coarse English.
Only a short while later saw the pair of operatives at the central Hub. Syn had been cautious upon approach, as he was not sure if a guard would be stationed there or not, given the events that were taking place in the dining chamber. Fortunately, there was no guard, the Hub was very dimly lit, and eerily silent. Part of Syn was a little preoccupied with the dishonor of his good friend, Daan'sha, but for the second time in one evening, the battle worn voice in the back of his mind spoke sense. 'You said yourself, there is more at stake that friendship. You cannot rest until justice is served.'
Both Cassandra and Syn'kra-vaal were silent as they stepped through the massive intersection of corridors toward the eastern elevator platforms. It was a good introductory test for Cass, and so far, Syn'kra-vaal was very impressed with his mate. Her body control was masterful; her silent steps were something that had taken Syn himself a long time to overcome. Their previous 'show' just as they had left the dining chamber had also been something of a work of genius; such was the advantage of working with a heart-mate. With practice, emotion such as the kind they shared could be faked to be successful, but to truly create the illusion of love was hopeless without a matching scent. In that type of situation, there were indeed certain advantages of operatives partnering with a heart-mate or loved one, but the benefits didn't always outweigh the disadvantages.
Cassandra herself was thoroughly enjoying sneaking around with her male. She loved to watch him, the way he moved, the way he would tilt his head upward just slightly as he scented rather frequently. He was clearly a master of his trade; all the information she had learnt about Syn and the Dark Blade Clan from the Yautja Network helped her to understand just why other Yautja were so envious of him. But it was the things that hadn't been made public knowledge that Cass really wanted to know, especially after all the whisperings and rumors that seemed to precede Syn, where ever he may be. The tall, statuesque female's unique multitasking ability had worked wonders in the past, including the more recent past and that of her previous form. Now it worked much the same, though seemingly more proficient than before. She could dawdle on her thoughts, while at the same time keep a hawk-like observation of her surroundings.
The dim silence was subtly broken as the two operatives approached the eastern transport lifts and the doors opened automatically with a light clunk as the locks disengaged. They traded smiles as Syn gestured to the opening, letting his female take the lead. Once the doors had closed, the Blade male jabbed at a sensor pad on the simple control panel. He spoke quietly as the platform began its rapid decent.
"Siy'kaa is on the first vital care level."
"Just tell me what to do…" smiled Cassandra, trying to hide her excitement the best she could.
"There is a tried and true method I like to use very much in this situation." Syn smiled back. He knew she was excited, but he trusted her to come through when the time was right. "It is quite simple; you will be able to follow what I do quite well, I think. You have already proved to be quite a deceptive one…" he winked.
The decent was over almost before it had begun, and the pair stepped from the platform transport as the doors reopened to yet another large, darkened corridor. Cassandra recognized this walkway; she had been here before, in her previous form. It was here she first laid eyes upon her current body. A pang of sadness washed over her briefly as she remembered the turn of events leading up to her 'second chance'. Though she could think of nothing else she would rather have become, Cass did wish it could have been different. Syn'kra-vaal noticed her mood change and purred sympathetically, knowing why she felt this sudden sadness. He placed a caring hand on the small of her back as they walked silently toward the end of the corridor. The vital care facilities housed only two large laboratories, one on each of three specialized levels. As they approached the chamber entrances, Cassandra noticed Syn alter his posture; his mood and scent changed seconds after, entering a much more hostile state of mind. The supple bodied female remained indifferent; she just watched as her male cycled the right hand chamber door open.
The lights inside the large chamber were on, but had been dimmed down. In the center of the lab sat a solitary med-hauler. Lying upon its pliable surface was the informant, Siy'kaa. As they entered, Cassandra's body went into full observation mode and she began to memorize every little detail she saw. It was obvious that Siy'kaa was asleep; more than likely he had been pumped full of pain relief, dulling his senses somewhat. As the pair silently entered the chamber, Cass could see the extent of the informant's injuries. An intricate looking medical brace held his leg solid while his damaged knee healed, and several tubes extruded from his rib cage, obviously in an attempt to drain any unwanted fluid. Syn wasted no more time being quiet, deliberately knocking a small hovering medical tray into the side of a large bench than lined the rear wall of the chamber. It impacted with a loud bang, but the Blade male didn't even bother to turn around as Siy'kaa came to with a grunt.
Cassandra put on a concerned face as the injured male sat up and looked at her. Even though he must have still been in pain, not to mention a little shocked by his visitors, she still saw the desire he tried so hard to mask. Cass had thought that playing this role would be easy, all she had to do was follow Syn's lead and make Siy'kaa feel safe, nothing too strenuous about that. But little did she know, Syn was not just a master of stealth, he was a master of interrogation. And as much as he hated doing it, he had deliberately failed to inform her of several key details so that her reaction would be sincerely genuine. Friendships may have come second to the dishonor of the Dark Blade Clan, but the bond between the two operatives was something that Syn cherished beyond words.
Cass watched in silence, like any obedient underling would, as her male began to open several of the larger storage cabinets that were incorporated into the walls of the medical chamber. She didn't know what he was looking for, or even if this was part of his plan to strike fear into the injured male. After a few moments of searching through some seriously intricate looking medical devices, Syn turned back to face Siy'kaa. In his right hand he held a very fine surgical blade. Cassandra expected him to say something as he began to step slowly toward the center of the chamber, but he remained ghostly silent, a blank look on his face. As he edged closer to the med-hauler, Siy'kaa tried to sit up, using his elbows to support his upper body. His eyes widened as he saw what Syn held delicately in his right hand. A shaky, panicked voice crested the silence.
"I will tell you nothing…"
"You are mistaken youngling. You will indeed tell me everything." Syn's voice was dark, vacant and almost careless.
"And if tell you I do, you will grant me quick death…" mocked Siy'kaa, rolling his eyes "You are nothing, your beloved Blade Clan is nothing!"
"Thei-de Ka'antyra…" Syn let the name trail off as he eyed the injured male. "Siy'kaa, how do you think I have made such a name for myself…?" he questioned, flicking the delicate blade menacingly against the claw of his left index finger. "Think you do, that I have really saved innocent Yautja in trouble? That I am truly honorable…?" Syn was ready to break through Siy'kaa's first barrier, "In truth, it is talents in this regard that other clans fear me for…"
"You are no interrogator… You are weak! You will do whatever it takes to uphold your precious honor. I know of you, your kind. I know well how you will bow to any Yautja with power over you, just like any other cowardly Blade…"
"Clearly your Elder has misinformed you, Siy'kaa." Syn continued to flick the surgical blade, knowing it was starting to grate. "You see, the Ayn'kra too, have used my services on many of occasions…" Syn saw a flash of question pass through the informant's eyes, and he knew he was on the right track. "You see, that look of apprehension that just swept across your face was very obvious, clearly your Elder does not trust you enough to tell you about our past…"
"He told me everything I need to know about you and your weak clan brethren!"
"Perhaps he did, but that would mean you knew I would find out about you. Why did you not run earlier…? Perhaps one who has failed as much as you is a little too eager to gain acceptance of Ty'ryl-ayn…" Syn kept pushing mentally at the youngling. He almost felt sorry for him; clearly he was talented, and with the right training would have made a decent operative. Click…Click…Click came the sound of the surgical blade; Siy'kaa was close to the breaking point.
"I was awarded this task because there was no one better! He said that himself!"
"Thank you, youngling, you have told me all I need to know. And in a very, very short time. You are by far one of the weakest minds I have ever encountered…" Syn shook his head slowly, still flicking his claw against the surgical blade.
"I have told you nothing!" hissed the younger male.
"You are indeed correct…" Syn mumbled, accompanied by the ever unnerving Click… Click… Click. "But it is what you did not tell me that I found very useful. You see, once a Yautja has done this enough, you learn to read others quite easily. Especially young, un-trained individuals such as yourself."
"You speak as if you are old and wise. Think you are better than every other Yautja, you do. But I have news for you. Very soon, your world will turn to fire, and everything you have ever loved will burn around you. And you will be helpless to intervene."
"Experience is timeless, Siy'kaa…" replied Syn, ignoring the last thing the informant had spat at his captor. "And you are incorrect; I do not think I am better than every other Yautja, though I am better than you."
Siy'kaa's mind was making a vague attempt to work a rebuttal strong enough to try and lead his foe astray from the information he had already learnt. But the strong pain relief that pumped through his veins clouded him, scattering his concentration. From a mental sense, this was a very weak position to be in. But from a physical perspective, Siy'kaa believed he had the upper hand. If his body was numb, torture would be unreliable. Though he hid his emotions quite well, the question still plagued him, 'was he really going to die, like this?'
Syn'kra-vaal remained silent for the most part, but started walking in leisurely steps, circling the med-hauler in the center of the chamber. He purposefully ignored the gaze from his heart mate. For this to work, Siy'kaa needed to believe that Cassandra was here as a student. As he paced, his claws clicking gently against the hard surface underfoot, the Blade male's thoughts worked carefully around what he had learnt so far. It was blatantly obvious that Siy'kaa was under the watch of Ty'ryl-ayn, but to what end? And what else could be learnt from this one? These were all questions that would be of value, but for the most part, Syn had only clarified what he and Cassandra already suspected. It was time to get further into the mind of the young informant.
Click… Click… Click. Syn loved this technique, and had used it many, many times before to break Yautja into revealing information. A lot of Yautja were under the impression that strength and intimidation were important to a successful interrogation. A well trained operative would tell you otherwise. Patience and intelligence were the only prerequisites needed. The Blade male completed his circling and finished up standing at the head of the med-hauler. He grabbed Siy'kaa's dreaded locks and pulled him back into a lying position.
"It would appear we have learnt everything we can from you, Siy'kaa… Would you not agree…?" Syn nodded at Cass in question.
"The Ayn'kra ordered that he survive…" she narrowed her eyes at him; her tone was one of slight concern.
"Sometimes, pup, you must break the rules in order to do what is right."
"Maybe you should abide by the rules for once, Syn'kra-vaal." snapped Cassandra.
The Blade male snapped his gaze toward the young female that leant against one of the side benches. Cass saw a flash of anger, but she knew to look past that. It was just a show for their informant. Really, it was her male's budding pride she saw. Syn continued to play his part well, not saying anything more to his 'underling'. Instead, he looked down at Siy'kaa and flicked the surgical blade against his claw once last time before waving it in front of the injured male's face.
"You, like her, have much to learn…" whispered Syn "You see how sharp this blade is…?"
Siy'kaa watched in horror as Syn'kra-vaal gripped the surgical tool firmly between his right thumb and forefinger. But instead of hurting the younger male further, Syn'kra-vaal turned the blade upon himself, opening a large cut through the palm of his left hand. His blood flowed freely, creating a bright green trail down his hand. With an emotionless gaze, Syn quickly discarded the blade and used his right hand to hold Siy'kaa's head firmly in place. The disgraced male squirmed in revulsion as Syn closed his left fist, sending small splatters of his luminescent blood onto his victim's face.
"Syn'kra-vaal!" growled Cassandra "You can not mark him! We were told he must survive!"
She was a little shocked that her male had cut himself, but it did work quite effectively in opening up an opportunity for her to take over. Springing forward toward the center of the chamber, she growled defensively and pushed Syn away from the med-hauler.
"You may out rank me, but this is bigger than the both of us and you know it!"
Syn snarled back at his female, a sound that made her skin prickle, though his eyes smiled satisfaction. Cassandra felt a little uneasy as Syn'kra-vaal began to speak; it sounded so genuine that she just wanted to throw her arms around him and apologize. He pointed to Siy'kaa and hissed.
"Think you know better…? Then his life is now your responsibility… Do not come begging for my help when he tries to kill you as he did Avaal'ekan!"