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"Stop."

The combat master's voice barked out across the kehrite. Spyrro froze where she stood and turned towards Xala, a blade still resting between her fingers.

"You hit all your marks." The Xal'Uate told her, "You are skilled with the kv'Va-kte {Pron: Kuh-VAK-tay. Trans throwing knives/ blades}."

Spyrro nodded. She was happy to take praise for her accomplishments and she liked using the blades. They fitted easily into her small hands and they were hitting the target easily too, just as they always seemed to do for her – just as they had done whenever she had played at this game with Mei'Savir, or Mei'Varsi or her brothers.

"As you say, D'tai N'as." She said.

"Your accuracy is gratifying." The combat master eyed her through narrowed lids, "In one of your years."

Spyrro answered without thinking "Mei'savir and M … he says I am his best pupil."

Xala threw out one long arm and cuffed her round the back of the head, "You are forbidden to speak of him. You know this."

Out of the corner of her eye, Spyrro saw Ti'Maat mouth the word "Hellspawn."

At her shoulder, she felt Ito's calm, silent presence. The elder girl leaned forward only slightly, the pressure on Spyrro's shoulder like a hand holding her back. Spyrro managed to keep the scowl off her face and held her hands clenched at her sides so that she would not touch the crown of her head where the blow had landed. She said nothing more but she turned swiftly back to the targets and let the throwing blade fly. It cut through the air with barely a whisper, flying straight to its mark. Then, she turned back to look at the combat master, arms folded, too angry to keep her gaze submissively down, "He did teach me." She said, "Whether I speak of it or not."

This time, Xala's hand flew out and struck the side of her face. Spyrro staggered, her head knocked to one side.

"Why do you continue in this," The older female said steadily, "When you know it will only bring you pain?"

Spyrro dropped her gaze. The corner of her mouth felt hot. With vision that blurred in and out of focus she saw a drop of blood hit the floor, making a round, dark splotch. Then, Ito's foot covered the rust-coloured stain. Wiping her face roughly on the back of her hand, guts churning with rage, Spyrro breathed deeply. Next to her, Ito stood like a carved statue. Spyrro knew she should make herself be like that – still and calm, showing no emotion – but right now she didn't feel calm or still. She felt furious, ready to explode, tasting blood in her mouth and wanting to taste more. She swallowed down the iron flavour of it and looked up with a burning, black-eyed gaze that was pure defiance. With a sigh, the D'tai N'as drew back her hand again.

"Xal'Uate." A sepulchral voice caused them all to freeze in place.

The GhaRan-S'i-Ka had entered the kehrite. Through the heat of her anger, Spyrro felt a chill wind blow over her. The clan leader unfolded a huge clawed hand, "Leave her to me." Then she turned her terrible, burning gaze on Spyrro, "Come here, girl."

Spyrro trailed obediently after the GhaRan-S'i-Ka as they went from the kehrite, ignoring the curious gazes that followed them. As they walked, Spyrro moved her tongue around her mouth to see if more blood would come, but it seemed to have stopped. She watched the looming figure from beneath lowered brows as she followed her in the direction of her quarters, wondering what was in store for her.

"Am I to be punished?" She said finally, determined to keep any trace of fear from her voice.

The big female did not even glance back, "I must speak to you."

Spyrro sighed, 'At least I am not getting my ears cuffed by Xala!'

She followed the GhaRan-S'i-Ka through the doors of her presence chamber and through the forbidding darkness, into the room beyond. Spyrro brightened a little, her jaws spreading in a smile "Are we going to look at the trophy wall again?"

The GhaRan-S'i-Ka did not answer but pressed the control and the door slid open. Spyrro trotted into the room after the elder female. She gave an appreciative little purr at the sight of all those huge, fierce looking skulls and – her favourite – the giant skull of the hard meat Queen. Then she noticed the GhaRan-S'i-Ka was looking at her, her craggy brows drawn down low. Spyrro put her jaws together, hurriedly rearranging her features into a more serious expression.

"Tell me Spyrro…" Croaked the voice like a carrion bird, "Why did Xal'Uate punish you?"

Spyrro thought for a moment, she considered lying but then she thought probably old Xala would tell her commander everything anyway. She stared straight into the clan leader's face, "I spoke about my Father… even though I knew it to be forbidden."

The deepset eyes flickered like flame, "And I hear you were in a brawl outside the kehrite too – and for the same reason."

Spyrro could not help a sullen snort escaping "I cannot let filth be spoken of my blood."

One of the great tusked mandibles twitched and the gaze of the burning coals intensified, "Do you know why I have forbidden all such talk – from you and others?"

Mutely, Spyrro shook her head.

"To save you from disgrace, girl." The GhaRan-S'i-Ka's eyes narrowed "You are perhaps too young to understand the dishonour that has been brought on you and all of our clan by your Father's actions."

Spyrro stayed silent but, internally, she was fuming, bristling with hurt pride, 'Mei'Savir, bring dishonour? Never, never!'

It took all her self-control to hold the words in.

"But even worse than disgrace… is what he has done to you," The elder female continued, "All the time you were forced to be in company with that calculating, soft-meat bitch… has corrupted you. Warped your ways of thinking."

To her horror, Spyrro felt hot tears prickle at hearing her Mother named this way. Desperately she blinked, screwing up her eyes, willing the tears back so that the GhaRan-S'i-Ka would not see her cry, would not know that inside she was howling for her mother, 'She must not see. She must not know!'

The elder female did not say anything but she watched Spyrro, seeing all.

Finally, she said "Do you remember what this skull is, the one that you named to me before?"

"Yes." Spyrro managed a grin, relieved to have a change of subject, "It is a kainde amedhe Queen."

"Good." One of the clan leader's jaws spread slightly, "And what of the others – do you know any of these quarries?"

Spyrro screwed up her face, trying to remember previous hunting trips she had been on or had heard stories about, "That is a Synadon, with the rows of serrated teeth – they live in the desert. The one with the large hole in the midst of its face is a Qu'raThula. They have that because of the tentacles."

The GhaRan-S'i-Ka keptnodding as Spyrro recited the list of the prey beasts.

"And that one with the segmented eyes is of the Ix. They have an exo-skeleton, so they shape of the eyes remain, even in death – "

And… what of these?"

The clan leader brushed her talons over a set of three small, roundish skulls, hanging together about halfway up the wall. Spyrro had not noticed them before; they were so much smaller and less threatening than the rest. They had no horns, no fangs, no tusks; just a smooth, domed head with neat, flattish teeth.

The elder female watched her closely, "Do you know what they are?"

Spyrro's spine turned to ice; she knew what they were, alright. She had never seen a skull like this before either, but she knew straight away what species they came from. Now, she thought she knew why her Mother forbade her Father to have a trophy tried to answer the elder female's question but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the empty sockets. They seemed to stare at her accusingly, the jaws hanging open, silently screaming.

The GhaRan-S'i-Ka was still watching; waiting for her answer.

"They are…," Spyrro forced words out of her tight throat, "They are…ooman."

"The soft meat." The elder female corrected her, jaws curling with grim relish, "You recognise the species as that of your Father's concubine?"

Spyrro – not knowing what the last word meant but guessing it must be a reference to her Mother – nodded, dumbly.

"It is good that you recognise them like this; in their proper place." The elder female purred, "You must understand that they are a lesser species, Spyrro. They may make a challenging quarry. They may make sport for us or they may be hosts for the hard meat. But that is all they are; our quarry. Our prey. Our resource. To be used as we decide. To accord them some sort of perverse equality… to live alongside them as your Father has done… is a distortion of the natural order."

Spyrro swallowed, her mouth still dry and tried to look as if she understood, but it was hard to think with those black eye-holes boring into her. She shifted from foot to foot, her gaze darting around the room, as if she would find a way of escape.

"Know this, my namesake," The GhaRan-S'i-Ka took Spyrro's chin in her talons, studying her face, "To have the mastery of other species; to hunt them; to kill them; that is who we are. That is what it means to be yautja."

Spyrro nodded, though what she was agreeing with, she barely knew.

"This is the way you must be." The elder female's hand rested on her shoulder like lead, "Do you understand Spyrro?"

"Yes." Spyrro could barely drag a sound from her throat louder than a whisper, but she tried again. She felt GhaRan-S'i-Ka's will pressing on her, heavy as the hand on her shoulder; a force so strong it was like a current in a swollen river, a whirlpool sucking in everything.

"Yes, GhaRan-S'i-Ka. I understand." She said, louder.

"And what are the soft meat?"

"They are our quarry; our prey."

The huge claws gripped her shoulders harder, but before the elder femalecould speak again, a voice came from the outer door.

"GhaRan-S'i-Ka, your leave to enter."

"Come." The clan leader answered but her eyes and her grip remained fixed on Spyrro.

One of the guards entered the room, "My commander," She said, "We have lost contact with Sek'Met and her contingent."

Slowly, the huge, grizzled head swung towards the unfortunate messenger, "What?"

The female stood stock still under this terrible scrutiny, but she delivered her news, "The Fury has left To'Phet's orbit but we have been unable to contact her."

The silence continued but the giant claws released her, "I will decide." She said, "Bring Xal'Uate to me."

After the messenger left, the GhaRan-S'i-Ka straightened up and walked to the great, glass wall. Turning her back on Spyrro, she stared out at the stars again, her hands clasped behind her back. She was utterly still but her knuckles were white under the leopard markings. Spyrro stood waiting for a few minutes, but it was as if the clan leader had forgotten her. Eventually, she broke the silence.

"GhaRan-S'i-Ka?"

"Your lesson is ended, for now." The looming shape did not turn, but the voice rasped like an iron file, "Go back to your quarters. I have things I must attend to."

Spyrro nodded and backed from the room, flitting through the shadowy antechamber to the great arched doorway. At the door she paused, looking back. The huge figure was silhouetted, unmoving against the glittering stars.

'She seems worried … or upset…I wonder why? Maybe I should ask her – I am her blood after all." Spyrro made a little movement, as if to go back, but then she stopped, "Why should I care, when she wants my Mother and Father dead? And she would probably be angry with me just for asking, anyway!"

As she stood, hesitating in the darkness, the door hissed behind her. Startled, Spyrro swung round. Xal'Uate stood, framed in the arched doorway. The combat master nodded to her and then went past her to the inner chamber.

Hurriedly, Spyrro stepped through the arch and past the guards. The door closed behind her, but she could barely hear it over the frantic whirr of her own pulse as she went, walking quickly, walking as fast as she could without running, back to the sleeping quarters, away from that terrible wall of death.


Selim's skin was slippery with perspiration as they moved through the jungles of U'amea. The two Rough Skulls had their own camouflage units, but the tell-tale ripple of light refraction gave away Varrik's position. Selim and Isaac had taken their parents' heavy, but superior, stealth generators and Rika still had his old stealth unit, looted from the Bad Bloods. The three of them could move completely unseen – not even a heat signature to betray them. When he switched his mask to thermal vison setting, he could not see his brother or his father's old squad mate.

Isaac had insisted they stay long enough to bring the units and had also rifled and quickly stripped the storage lockers.

"S'Kia's got weapons – stuff we can use, Sel."

Isaac had handed him several, flat disc-shaped objects and Selim stowed them away, "Why are you taking Mei'Savir's blackout bombs?"

"I'm taking his whole arsenal – whatever we can carry." Isaac had paused to clip a clutch of incendiary grenades onto his own belt and slid throwing knives into his holsters, "Do you know where he hid those poison darts?"

Selim shook his head, "Isaac, we need to hurry."

He cast a glance at Rika and Varrik, prowling the cockpit like trapped beasts, claws flexing with impatience. Unfazed, Isaac handed him a plasma gun sidearm and slid one into his own holster, "If we've got to play hide and seek with these motherfuckers, I want to be armed with everything we've got."

A little involuntary shiver went through Selim as Isaac's words replayed in his head. The enemy ship would surely be within the planet's atmosphere, 'They must have landed by now. They may already be stalking us, using who knows what kind of tracking technology. I only hope the volcanic ash interferes with their sensors just as it has done to ours.'

The uselessness of their own instruments was slowing them down, especially the loss of their surface mapping technology. Even with the camouflage, they took turns scouting ahead to spy out their route, making sure they would not blunder straight into an enemy patrol. Rika and Varrik had agreed with Halkrath that they would make for the ridge; the highest point visible from the Chameleon's resting place at the bottom of the valley. This would serve as a meeting point and provide a more easily defensible position, but it meant slogging along the valley floor.

Selim usually had seen many jungles on many worlds and usually he felt at home in them, but this forest of night was different. From the moment he had stepped off the ship, a pall of shadow had enveloped them. The ash from the volcano – he believed Halkrath, that this was what it must be – turning the light a dark, angry red and smothering all sound like snow. The eruption must be some distance away or they would surely be dead already, but still, the ash covered everything with a soft grey patina so the jungle was painted sombre shades of grey and white. A ghost jungle. An underworld forest. The eerie quiet was occasionally broken by strange noises, mournful wails and trills.

This part of the jungle was a mangrove swamp, the trees stretched up on giant, black stilt-like roots and all four of them had to climb to avoid shorting out their stealth units in the murky water. It was hot, sweaty work, but they kept their masks on all the time. The sulphurous stink of ash was almost unbearable to the yautja sense of smell, making them cough and gag whenever they removed them. Clouds of white particles drifted down through the rare gaps in the tree canopy like tiny, charred leaves, filtering through the treetops. He flexed his talons, noting they became briefly visible where tiny stars of ash clung and smeared over them. As he watched, the camouflage fizzled and shorted out for a second, glitched and then shorted again. Selim tingled all over, 'If my stealth unit cuts out, I will be visible – a sitting target!'

Rika emerged from the grey of the shadows, visible now as an outline of sparks. Then he became fully visible, deactivating the camouflage, "My stealth unit has ceased to function." He snarled.

Isaac's crackling outline appeared and then he was fully visible too, "Shit! Whatever is in this atmosphere must be interfering with our stealth tech!"

A loud hiss sounded nearby, like a burst of steam, and Selim froze. In the water beneath the stilt-like roots of the trees, a long, dark shape shifted. It slid beneath the surface, sending sluggish ripples through the red algae.

"Frondwyrm." Selim said, frowning under his mask, noting the feathery protrusions along the creature's sides, "Very poisonous. But I have never seen one so large."

Rika nodded "They thrive in places where volcanic activity is present."

"Volcanic activity?" Isaac picked up the drift of their conversation, "You mean, there might be … more eruptions?"

Rika gave a supressed snort, "I know little of U'amea, it is on the outer limits of our territory. Did S'Kia and Lex never bring you here, in all your many years of exile?"

Isaac sighed but Selim's face was running with sweat under his mask, brow puckering as he tried to recall the name, "The name is familiar… I just wish I could remember what they said about it. I do not remember coming here."

"Then, let us pray Halkrath is right," Rumbled the Rough Skull, "Let us hope that that the main eruption is located far from here and that it is finished, and not the precursor to a bigger volcanic event."

"I fucking hope so."Isaac said quietly, "I feel like our chances of survival are low enough, already."

"Rika."

Varrik's voice crackled sharply, through their mask earpieces and all three of them tensed, "Have you sighted the enemy?" Rika hissed, his voice only a thread.

"No."

"Then, what?"

"Come at once." Even through the comms, Varrik sounded strange, his tone abrupt, "You must see this."


Xal'Uate knelt in the presence chamber of the GhaRan-S'i-Ka, while the clan leader stood over her, regarding her impassively.

'I should not have thought I had displeased her,' She fought down her unease, 'But, you never know of her anger until you feel her blades.'

"How can I serve you, my commander?" She said, aloud.

"How goes it with my little prize? My only descendant?" The big female asked, quietly.

"She makes progress, my commander," The combat master said, cautiously relieved not to be immediately reprimanded, "She takes discipline well."

"What of her skill with weapons?" Rumbled the clan leader.

"She is as one born with a blade in her hand," Xala assured her, "And she can fight without them, also."

"What of her temperament?"

"She knows no fear. And she is as fierce as any Rough Skull, as brave as anyone could wish. Already she challenges her fellows and strives for dominance, even at so tender an age."

The GhaRan-S'i-Ka's tone remained solemn, "It is not cowardice that concerns me. She is my scion."

Xala's brows knotted together, "Then, what would you know?"

"Her father was… bold as a child, untroubled by fear," The elder female said, "I must know if she has inherited his madness. Do you think she suffers from a sickness of the brain?"

The combat master was speechless for a few moments, "GhaRan-S'i-Ka, how would I know?"

"Unrestrained emotion." Came the leaden voice, "Over-weaning anger. Exaggerated attachment. Does she express sorrow for him? Or for the … obscene bitch he forced her to associate with?"

Xal'Uate was silent for a while. The clan leader already knew of Spyrro's continued fondness for her father and she did not wish to add any further condemnation of the child or expose her to any more punishment than was necessary, 'After all, she has been defending her own honour. That is understandable – necessary, even.'

"Not in my hearing, aside from that which you know of yourself, GhaRan-S'i-Ka." She said, finally, "And she does not speak of his ooman slut or their profane… offspring…"

The combat master's voice died away as she realised that she had just voiced aloud the lurid facts that everyone on the Vortex was discussing in private but never, never mentioned to their commander's face. She kept her head bowed. The GhaRan-S'i-Ka stayed as immobile as stone.

"Of course, they must both be dead by now," Xal'Uate said, wanting to fill the leaden silence, "None could doubt your justice in dooming them to such a death."

The clan leader turned away from the D'Tai N'as to gaze at the stars, pinpoints of cold light in the blackness, "I should have known of his death, the very instant my son's heart ceased to beat. I should have known the moment that he was released from this life and that I was released from my suffering… but even this scant peace has been denied me."

"But surely…" Xal'Uate shook her bowed head, "Surely GhaRan-S'i-Ka, they could not have survived the z'skuy-de?" {trans: birth of Xenomorph from host}

"So I thought, and yet I have heard nothing from those sent to ensure their deaths. Even my most favoured killer, Sek'Met."

"Sek'Met has not contacted you?"

"If she had managed to kill them or find their corpses, I would expect her to return with their heads. She has not. And her tracker bug shows that she is far from To'Phet, she and all her guards. The Fury, also, is far from where it should be – on route to U'amea. Why would they go so far towards the outskirts of our space?"

The combat master still had not moved from her subservient crouch, "What do you suspect, GhaRan-S'i-Ka?"

"It may be that Sek'Met is taken prisoner." Theclan leader went on, "But the Abomination is his father's son, more than his brothers ever were. His sire was a seducer of females; a deceiver. A liar. Perhaps S'Kia has won her over with his cunning words, beguiled her away from me…"

"Sek'Met would surely not betray us?"

"If she has, she will find his lies turn to ashes. As all male promises do."

Xal'Uate lifted her head at last, "What would you have me do?"

"Continue to train Spyrro, while I do what I must. I should have done it on the day he stood before me; I should have done it on the day I heard tell he had spawned those blasphemous half-breeds; I should have done it on the day he was born. Now I shall correct my weakness."

Xal'Uate did not trust herself to speak. She suspected disagreeing with the clan leader would be signing her own death warrant, but any hint that she agreed that the GhaRan-S'i-Ka was weak would be likewise fatal. She decided to stay silent.

"I will burn the weakness out of myself and out of him." The huge female continued, fists still clenched, "I will destroy him and cleanse him of his madness."

"What do you intend, my commander?"

When the GhaRan-S'i-Ka spoke, it was almost a sigh, "I will kill S'Kia and the slut myself."


Happy weekend everyone, it's pretty cold here so I've got extra fluffy slippers on. Rock and roll.

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LovyDovey7: Glad you enjoyed the dialogue - Sek'Met is quite fun to write - and the family dynamic. Love all your guesses, makes me think harder about what I'm writing as I always want to come up with something surprising. Halkrath has his own agenda but... we'll see. He definitely has a more than healthy interest in the twins. I quite enjoy writing him too.