"Yeah, I noticed that, too," she managed to wheeze in answer while her brain processed the fact this particular Yautja was somehow speaking her language. And had already pegged her as unruly.

Lola had not mentioned the alien species being able to speak and while Pheist knew they communicated verbally in their own language, only Riot had ever given her any indication he understood her language, and only then at certain times. But when he communicated with her it was always by means of hand gestures or sounds she'd grown to understand the meaning of; chuffs, grunts, or purrs.

Or low warning growls the likes of which she was now receiving from the Hunter standing over Zihrait.

"Did you happen to see Ri- your offspring on your way here?" she pressed on before she could be further rebuked, seizing the opportunity to determine both whether this was indeed Vechaath and whether Riot was alright.

His taloned hand tightened into a fist, an audible pop the result. "He lives." It was said so dispassionately, she couldn't help but be momentarily transported back to that moment on the cruiser when Riot had been at Thwo'stba's killer's mercy and Vechaath had watched on without intervening. They all had. Even Lola. Meanwhile, she'd been so distraught her head had been spinning.

If the tinkle of the pieces of bone bead he'd crushed in his grip hitting the floor as he opened his fingers hadn't brought her back to the present, his towering predatory form moving to leer down at her would have.

She didn't even attempt to get up. Her side was throbbing with a vengeance which promised she'd regret it.

"-in disgrace. As do you all, now."

"And the one who fought him unfairly?" It probably wasn't the right response, but that big MF had grabbed Riot by the dreads - an act she'd learned was cowardly and dishonourable the hard way. Perhaps it didn't change that Riot had already been down and losing that battle, but if he and Zihrait were going to be labeled as disgraced, so should that bastard.

Vechaath rumbled again, the cadence deeper and conveying his dwindling patience. "O'joath has paid for his transgressions." Reaching down, he captured her upper arm before she could scoot back and plucked her up from the ground as though she weighed nothing, sending lances of white hot pain spiralling across her torso.

She choked back a plaintive sob and blinked furiously to prevent the tears burning behind her eyes from leaking out. Maybe she'd spew her last meager meal all over him, it'd be no more than he deserved.

"Before he perished, Thwo'stba informed me you hunted the skrullix and succeeded - yet you returned clinging to life."

Hopefully he wasn't expecting her to acknowledge this statement of facts, because panting through the excruciating sensation of being dangled in the air was almost more than she was capable of at that point. It was either a blessing or a curse that he'd grabbed her cybernetic arm. She might have stood a chance of slugging him with it, but definitely not with her flesh and bone limb - and if she did, it was more likely to hurt her than him.

Unperturbed by her failure to reply, he seemed to study her for a moment and then went on, sounding less than impressed by his close up examination if his tone was anything to go by. "Thwo'stba believed you would earn your place in the clan, but in giving you and those before you that opportunity, a divide has been created. You should have embraced an honourable end to your life, female."

She would never know if he intentionally chose to cease lecturing her there because he'd heard what was coming, or if Riot just happened to time his incensed guttural bellow perfectly. Either way, the abrupt onslaught of noise hit her like a blow, and was cut short seconds later as the white eyed Hunter deftly stepped into Riot's path before he'd done more than arrive in the doorway.

Zihrait knelt still, but his head had shifted towards the sounds.

Having no desire to see more green bloodshed, Pheist forced words out somehow. "Easy, asshat. Save it for the droids." She signed vaguely with her free hand that everything was fine. It had the desired effect, fortunately. Riot's protests eased in volume as his golden gaze shot past his larger rival to her.

"Ah'kiat," Vechaath growled, confusing her momentarily as this word wasn't one she'd encountered before ever. Was it Yautjan?

Eventually the white eyed Hunter turned away from Riot, giving the smaller male his back, which she could interpret from the way Riot bristled immediately was an insult. However, Vechaath's talon found its way to the collar of her robe, an action which drew his spawn's attention back and even prompted a disgruntled snarl. Peeling the filthy material aside, he grunted at the revealed half-healed wound left by Riot's fangs.

"Fool. You've bound yourself to the 'ooman." With that ascertation, he released her arm, sending her sprawling at his feet.

The yelp of anguish the hard landing ripped from her was both pitiful and infuriating. Nausea rolled over her and right along with it a clammy chill. Only the certainty heaving would cause untold more pain prevented her from retching. Distantly, she heard Vechaath's rumbling voice again, but caught only the last of what he said, which amounted to, "redeem yourselves together or perish in the attempt." The next thing she was aware of was a shadow descending over her and warm expulsions of air against her temple.

Then nothing.

By some miracle she didn't comprehend, the aliens had not paid her the slightest attention thus far. Hwynn huddled in a corner and endeavoured to keep it that way.

They could speak human languages - or, at least one. For a while now, it'd been believed Yautja were capable of understanding their languages to a degree, but to what extent had been greatly debated among 'experts' in her field. It didn't surprise her overly much to learn a species as technologically advanced as they'd proven themselves to be were capable of interpreting another species' language, but she was more than a little interested in how it was achieved. Yautja vocalizations were vastly different to human speech and the anatomy of the cryogenically preserved cadavers she'd had access to during her education had seemed to preclude the ability for the aliens to form the correct sounds required to speak human languages. That was the general consensus, anyway.

Staring at the large male holding Astridhe Pheist aloft like a ragdoll, Hwynn wasn't so sure. He was definitely communicating well, enunciating in a clear and thoroughly intimidating deep, gravelly voice.

The subservient behaviour the specimen whose vision she had been treating was displaying was curious, but seemed to be an indication of his lower standing in the hierarchical system - or rather, the male he'd deferred to's higher standing. He had attempted to fight the original intruder, the largest of them, who in turn had seemed more interested in attacking Astridhe than in returning any aggressions.

If only they ignored her and left without removing her spine from her body, she'd have weeks and weeks of work simply studying and interpreting the footage of their interactions from the security feed. Expecting to survive was ridiculous, but at the same time a natural and vain inclination.

When the fourth male - the melanistic specimen - appeared, it got very loud. Shrinking further into the crevice she'd wedged herself into between the wall and an as yet undamaged piece of monitoring equipment, she winced at the booming echo of his roar. For a moment it seemed the largest Yautja would engage with him, but the male holding Astridhe had only to speak to waylay any physical violence. When the authority-wielding male dropped her into a heap, the melanistic male took exception and went to her. The protective way he placed himself between her and the others and crouched over her was in line with behaviour previously noted by the androids, but not something Hwynn had personally witnessed until now. It was obvious the other woman had been injured, thoracic trauma if she were to guess. The careful manner in which the male gathered and lifted her from the floor implied he had deduced this as well and didn't wish to cause her further discomfort.

That was when her luck ran out.

With Astridhe's limp form no longer the focus, it invariably shifted to where she 'hid'. It shouldn't have therefore shocked her to be addressed by the male in charge - but it did.

"Come out, healer," he growled at her.

She shuddered and did not move. Tucked against her side, out of sight, she fought to keep her spasming finger from depressing the trigger on the jet injector which had fortuitously slid in her direction when Astridhe had lost it.

They were all looking at her now, even the blind male had tilted his head, perceiving her position through some other sense.

"Or will you die a coward's death?"

The taunt didn't move her. If there'd been any remaining operational androids on the station they would have been deployed by now. She was alone. And if not wanting to die made her a coward, then so be it.

Reflexively, she pressed back against the unforgiving metallic wall when the male closed in. Sweat made her palm slippery and the injector began to slip. Dread welled up within her as her line of sight was overtaken by hundreds of kilograms of honed muscle, the same bulk which would have left a human slow and encumbered but which lent unparalleled agility and power to this species.

"What is your function here, 'ooman?"

"Xenobiologist," she answered, stunned her tongue managed not to tangle itself. Her fingers were sliding against the injector, her grasp growing precarious, and the penetrating stare of the illuminated red eye slits looming above her did nothing to help the situation. She was terrified to try to adjust her grip, convinced the Yautja would perceive what she was hiding.

Sinister rumbling washed over her. "Explain."

"I s-study alien species." So much for that. "Yautja specifically."

His head turned a fraction to take in the rest of the room and she glimpsed that the largest male had advanced much closer, blazing white eye slits fixated on her. "My Hunt brother has experience of your kind," she was informed, a subtle angling of his mask towards the largest male indicating whom he referenced. "For many cycles he was studied. They took his talons and filed his tusks. They silenced his voice and cut open his body to 'study'. Perhaps it is to him I should give you."

Drying fluid from the synthetic flesh covering the androids' metal alloy endoskeleton clung to the largest male's fingers, digits she hadn't noticed before now were unnaturally blunt. His eerie silence also became more prominent when compared with the periodic bursts of noise the other three males had been producing. He hadn't snarled, hadn't made a sound since he'd entered the room, as she now recalled. Had they severed his vocal cords? None of the cadavers she'd studied had had such a procedure completed on them, though most had born fatal injuries the result of which had made their procurement possible. Only two had been fully intact, specimens that had been captured for research purposes just as the two she'd been hired to study had.

Receiving that job offer no longer felt like much of a blessing, she decided. Fear clogged her throat as the male in charge turned and strode away, though she knew no amount of begging or reasoning would save her even if she did regain the ability to spout words.

The largest Yautja stalked in closer still. White splotches of synth fluid coated his dark hide, evidence a lack of talons had not prevented him from damaging multiple androids. Several minor gashes across his torso and flanks leaked luminescent blood, but weren't hindering him in any visible way. Unlike when he'd attacked Astridhe, the giant male reached towards her in a slow and deliberate fashion, and Hwynn stupidly cowered in her corner while his fingers closed around her neck.

The moment they did, however, her fight or flight response kicked in. Without conscious thought, she tore the injector out from behind her and jammed it into his arm, her hand so damp the impact broke her grip before she could squeeze the trigger. A strangled cry ripped free - he would snap her neck before she could grab it again.

Astoundingly, he did not. His hold remained firm - bruising, even - but did not tighten. Instead, his massive chest silently reverberated, the soundless vibrations coursing through his grip and imparting just as much menace as the growl she was certain had been intended. When his other hand came up and depressed the trigger, she was dumbfounded, but realization sank in as the following moments ticked by. A dose that had originally fully sedated the moss green specimen in less than five seconds wasn't having even minimal effect on this male - a male who'd ostensibly been sedated many, many times if what the other had said was true.

Pulling the injector from his flesh, he enveloped the instrument in his meaty hand and closed it into a fist, then dropped the pulverized instrument at her feet, while all the while the white eye slits burned into her skull. Only then did the grasp on her throat constrict further, cutting off her airway entirely.

The pressure caused an automatic gasping response. Her eyes teared up and she snagged onto his forearm, encountering the rigid metallic planes of his wrist armor.

Heart beating wildly.

This was it. This was how she died.