Chapter one: Planetfall
The thirty-foot truck trailer sat at the end of the street, looking out over downtown Los Angeles. A thick layer of accumulated dust masked the spray-painted signatures of rival gangs, the once bright colors slowly fading in the intense heat and light of an overtaxed ecosystem. The tires were corroded and flat, causing the trailer to list, cobwebs seemed to anchor them to the ground. Passersby took it for just another abandoned piece of equipment, one of many in the area, which they simply ignored and continued on their way. The facade was a good cover for the activity inside its sound proofed walls. The space inside was filled with the loud hum of computers and the rattle of air conditioners. The floor was tilted to counteract the list given to make the facade more real.
Computers lined the walls, scrawling weather patterns and various blips of air traffic moving through the downtown area. There were three terminals, in front of each was a weary operator. They were coming close to the end of a twelve-hour shift, and they could hardly raise their heads to pay attention to the information that passed silently by.
One of the radar operators did not notice at first, when the screen blipped in an unidentified craft. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him as the computer announced the intruder a second time, he furrowed his brows shook his head and fell back to sleep. On the third blip he started awake, his head pounding as he cleared the fog from his brain to try and decipher the data coming through the computer. Any posted traffic had a signal that it transmitted, that signal would simply be digested by the computer and passed by, if the airborne traffic was not transmitting then the computer picked it up and pointed it out. That is what it had been programmed for. Originally designed to track drug traffickers in the air, it served its new purpose just as well. That was why these men were here.
He punched up pertinent information from his unidentified, it was coming in fast and low, not sticking to the air lanes set up by the city. Just then Storen burst through from the front where the racks were set up.
"You've got something?" He asked gruffly, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
"Yes sir, we've got a telemetry lock on an incoming object. It's going down near Griffith Park. Trajectory is too shallow, too controlled to be a meteor, I think it's our bogey."
It had been a long six-year wait, Storen thought. He had been in the organization since before the last one had shown up. Just a subordinate then, he was in charge of this team, one of twelve spread out over the west coast hoping to be lucky enough to capture one. He would get this one damn it, he promised himself that. Though none had been discussed, there was every opportunity for "Upward mobility".
"Well it's about time." The blond man grumbled his sudden rising turning his mood suddenly black, "I'm going to need a cover in that area, set me up a job," He said to one of the others who had appeared near the door, and to himself, "Welcome to Earth, mother fucker."
Quarta was set down in the thick shrubbery of an overgrown and nearly forgotten public park. Gui'yata had spent nearly a week in the ship preparing for his final and most important hunt as a Fausi. Now it was time to begin, he had decided to remain away from the ship this hunt, not to return unless he was successful. He hoped he would be, he did not want to become another warrior lost on this planet.
Gui'Yata exited the ship followed closely by Koratan. His older sibling bade him farewell and good hunting. They crossed arms, fists closed as a symbol of their blood relationship, and their friendship, then clapped each other on the shoulder. Gui'Yata's gaze fell to his brothers fantan limb, he shuddered slightly. With a knowing look Koratan turned away and retreated to the interior of the ship. Gui'Yata waited silently as the ship turned invisible, behind beams of refracted light. Calming himself, he set off toward the city, looming above the skyline.
As he entered the decrepit neighborhood at the edges of the city, he switched on his own camouflage, now to be seen as a blur of twisted light. He made a quick survey of the surrounding buildings, intent on finding a temporary base to work from. He chose an old insurance building, one of the few that were still intact. The wind whistled mournfully through the broken glass. The structures showed various stages of advanced decay. The streets were piled with bricks, masonry, wood and various other pieces of the block. There was very little body heat evident and the buildings seemed deserted.
He climbed in through one of the buildings boarded windows moving to the second floor with the grace of a cat. He looked out the nearby window, devoid of glass, and seeing the range of the view, nodded with satisfaction.
Gui'Yata moved back to the center of the empty room he had chosen for residence. It was dark, the colors drab, but Gui'Yata did not see visible light, only the colors corresponding to degrees of heat. There was a staircase on the northern side of the building leading down to the first floor.
Gui'Yata settled on the floor, producing a heating unit on which he cooked xaca, a trail meat. It was extracted from a large animal resembling an earthen centipede, a native of his home world. Gui'Yata had broken some customs by preferring the meat cooked, thinking it lacked flavor.
The elders considered him reckless, and his peers regarded him as unorthodox, though oddly they seemed to respect him. He tended to beat those who did not. His hunting nickname was "Sai"; the rule bender. Koratan, had been reckless as well, but chided his sibling about the degree to which his lack of respect for established behavior went.
Gui'Yata reached up and disconnected the feed hose for his breather. The hissing of released gasses echoed off the walls. He pulled off his visor and set it on the ground at his feet. He blinked, it took a bit to again adjust to his normal vision. Soua sight had almost no heat contrast especially in hot weather, consisting of varied shades of yellows, reds and oranges. He sometimes wondered how they survived before they had invented the special filters that clarified their vision. The Soua were so far from that primitive past that it was rarely even discussed.
Outside Gui'yata's new hideout, a young man approached the boarded door, slowly making his way around to his usual entrance. His name, well he never divulged his name, but his friends called him Manta. He was not the biggest guy, only five foot seven inches, but he was well respected. He was quick and deadly with no compunction against using those assets. His eyes were the color of the deep sea, mostly dark blue with just a hint of green. He kept his coarse length of brown hair tied at the nape of his neck. He was a heart throb in high school, voted most likely to succeed, but the streets sometimes take their toll on even the most promising people. He was estranged from his parents, rebelling against their agenda for his life. His first weeks on the street were a nightmare, scarred, bruised, but finally taken in by the only family he now had, the Lobos. This life sucked but what else could he do?
This building he called home, though tomorrow a demolition crew would finish the job they started yesterday. Manta sighed, oh well, shit happens. But tonight it was still home, a place to get out of the weather. He headed for the back, stepping lithely around several collapsed walls and caved in ceilings, to where his few personals were kept. He had just gotten settled when he heard the noise, rustling upstairs, and the steady hum. The sound made by a generator or heater.
"Son of a bitch," Manta declared, someone was in his territory. Guy must have got lucky somewhere, people in this neighborhood could not afford heaters. Well, he wanted to be lucky too.
He cautiously made his way up the stairs, thinking he could surprise this unwanted guest.
Gui'Yata slowly pulled another piece of xaca from the bulk, contemplating the upcoming hunt, trying not to think about possibly dying on this forsaken planet. A faint sound stirred him from his thoughts, scuffing noises. There was someone approaching from the stairs, trying to be quiet. But, Gui'Yata's race had developed better hearing to take the place of poor sight. Quickly, Gui'Yata switched off the heating unit and turned his light refractor on, becoming nearly invisible. He moved to one side of the room, waiting.
"Who...Who's in here?" Came a shaky voice. The intruder's speech turned vicious, as he tried to sound intimidating, "Come out, come out! You've got five seconds to get out of here. This is my place! You either get out or I'll kill ya'!" Gui'Yata saw the heat of the mans body, and in contrast the cold blue of the weapon he held, registering blue even to his unaided vision.
A "cachunk" sounded, he had cocked the automatic weapon. The man stepped further into the room, tripping over Gui'Yata's mask. Recovering his footing, he leaned down to pick it up. Gui'Yata's eyes narrowed.
"What the fuck is this... somebodies idea of art?!" Manta muttered, "Man, this guy must have been on some serious drugs!"
Gui'Yata emitted a low growl. The boy spun around, spooked at the sound. Gui'Yata tried to judge the distance to man, only just visible in his vision, using the blue contrast as a reference point.
That growl, Manta thought, he had never remembered dogs in this building before, besides it did not sound like any dog he had ever heard before. He shivered feeling like he was being watched. The growl came again, this time Manta panicked loosing a spray of bullets in the direction of the sound.
Gui'Yata ducked the bullets, and deftly regaining his feet, he lunged. The sound of protracting wrist knives took the place of the ringing of bullets.
Gui'Yata struck hard and quick, his aim deadly even without the refinement of his visor. The man went down, sounding with a wet thump. Blood quickly formed a dark pool around Mantas inert form. Gui'Yata stepped through it to retrieve the mask, still clutched in the corpses hand. He secured it back on his head, turning to the youth that had been his first kill. He picked Manta up by the collar, the head lolled against his backbone all but completely severed. Gui'Yata clicked to himself, content that his skill was not lessened by his impaired vision, his apprehension about the hunt was gone.
He flipped the corpse over, neatly separating the ribs from the backbone with the sraha. He pulled the backbone up at the base extracting his prize, the mans skull. He then hung the headless body at the top of the stairwell as a warning. Gui'Yata did not feel the need to skin the rest of it, another outdated concept he had rejected, though he sometimes did it to test his skill. Soua did not eat human flesh unless it was absolutely necessary, therefore skinning was wasted effort. So was hanging it, but it made an effective deterrent to any other would be intruder.
He seated himself back in front of the heating unit, to clean his trophy. When he finished polishing it he stuck it into his trophy bag. Then he removed his sraha, the wrist knives that he had used so efficiently, to clean them. It was his favorite weapon, triggered by the muscles in his forearm it was low profile and not clumsy like the weapons some of his other companions preferred. It was thought controlled, though Gui'Yata was unsure how it picked up the messages. That was one of the Noora Clans secrets, those skilled in the art of weapon making. When he finished cleaning it he strapped it back on his arm.
He was content, his first kill had come to him, it was a good sign. Gui'Yata curled up next to the heater and slept.
The next morning Gui'Yata woke as the sun began to rise. He looked out from his perch to find many large vehicles parked outside, and someone approaching the building. The human held a device in his arms, too cold to read out on Gui'Yata's sensors. Gui'Yata was not aware that the building had been set up for quick demolition, and the man was here to rig the detonator. He did sense something was amiss, this casual visit to an obviously deserted structure, made him nervous. The device reminded him of something he had seen in his briefing for the hunt, but he could not place what it had been.
He watched as the man entered the building, seeing his heat through the floor. Gui'Yata pushed hastily past the corpse hanging at the top of the stairs, forgetting his camouflage in the rush. Halfway down the stairs Gui'Yata stopped being extremely silent. The man was working with something on the other side of the wall, and Gui'Yata did not want his presence known just yet. The Soua watched intently readying for the kill.
The hair on the back of Paul's neck were on end, it was here. He rigged the detonator directly to the wall, he could not take the chance on it getting away. He had worked so long for this moment. He had just about given up and packed it in when one of their sensors had finally picked him up.
"I sense you, mother fucker." He hissed, setting the detonator for thirty-five seconds, "Let's see how you get out of this one."
Paul paused until the reading was fifteen seconds then quickly headed back for the front entrance. Gui'Yata leapt back up the stairs, taking them three at a time to get ahead of the human, and attack from above. He turned into the doorway of his previous nights dwelling when the explosives went off. The building rocked wildly. Gui'Yata lost balance, and was thrown back through the doorway, slamming into the wall. Dazed he tried to steady himself, and slipped off the top step. Gui'Yata tumbled down the stairs, landing on his stomach, his head ringing. Shaking it out he tried to push himself up. He did not make it. The building crumbled quickly, a chunk of the second floor struck him down. Caught in the buildings rapid collapse, Gui'Yata was knocked unconscious.
