Chapter 11- Alaric's past.
Alaric sat on Ja'anya's bed, crossed legged and in deep thought. He was slumped with his hands over his face as he recalled every single detail of the match. The wounds that had inflicted on him were dressed in bandages and healing salves. While he normally couldn't recall what he'd done while in the Rage, save for vague images, he could recall with perfect clarity the terrified look of Vyl'kar's child as he was about to take the life of that child's father. Thank the gods that it stopped him when it did, regardless of the effect it had on his mind.
'Why didn't the elders stop it when I started showing the signs?' He thought. 'I could've ended up killing everyone around me.'
He lifted his head when he heard the door open and Ja'anya stepped through with a tray of food in her hands. The blue paint on his face was now more smudged into his face and his hands. It made him look like he had one big bruise on his face.
She sat down next to him.
"Are you alright, Alaric?" She asked, concerned about his current state of mind.
He nodded as she laid the tray down on her lap.
"For now, anyway." He said, looking at her. "Are you sure Vyl'kar is going to recover?"
"He will. He won't be able to hunt for a while and he'll have a few scars but he'll live."
'Thank god for that!' Alaric thought in relief.
Alaric sat there while Ja'anya got up and left for the bathroom, returning with a washing cloth and a bowl of cool water. She dampened the cloth and started wiping his face, cleaning off the smudged blue paint on his left cheek.
"I couldn't bring myself to do it, even in Rage." Alaric said. "I will not stoop down to a bad bloods' level."
"I'm glad you didn't." Ja'anya praised earnestly. "I don't know how you stopped but I thank the Ancestors that you did."
She finished wiping his cheek, rinsed her cloth clean and started rubbing his other cheek clean. Alaric, while facing his cheek scrubbed, sighed as he told her why he stopped.
"I saw Vyl'kar's kid in the stands." Alaric admitted.
Ja'anya stopped rubbing his cheek, leaving blue stains under his eye that trickled down his face like tears.
"That's what got your attention?" She asked softly.
Alaric nodded.
"I saw the horrified look in his eyes. The tears and... I... I saw myself in that kid." Alaric said.
Ja'anya lowered her hand.
"Saw yourself?" She asked in confusion.
Alaric nodded again.
"What I almost did to his father was the very thing that happened to me." Alaric told her, disgusted at himself."
He looked up at Ja'anya
"Ja'anya." Alaric said
Ja'anya looked at him. She could see in his eyes that he was about to tell her something that was very personal and painful. And it was unlikely that he would ever be willing to say this again.
"Yes, Alaric?" She asked gently.
Alaric patted the space next to his right. Ja'anya moved the tray off her lap and onto the bed before shuffling closer to him.
"Ja'anya." Alaric started. "You remember when you asked about that marine squad and how I didn't want to talk about it." He took a breath. "Do you know how old I was when I was orphaned again and begun my training in the marines?"
"Thirteen?" Ja'anya guessed.
Alaric shook his head. Ja'anya thought for a second.
"Ten?"
Alaric shook his head again and told her.
"Seven." Alaric revealed. "I was seven when they were all killed and then I was left to die."
Ja'anya was shocked at this fact of Alaric's life.
"Seven?" She exclaimed. "That's like sending a newborn pup to into a hive!"
"I didn't have a choice in the matter. Even less when I had to survive, alone, for several weeks."
He scratched his head.
"And that was the first time I ever saw your race."
On a forest planet, in the north of the human controlled section of the galaxy, a squad of marines approached the edge of one of the many dark and ominous forests. The sun was setting, casting everything in a golden glow and the shadows in the forest were ever growing.
A perfect place for a training exercise for a bunch of tough hombres of the corps.
There were six marines in full combat gear with their weapons and backpacks. And among them, a seventh member in a way, was a small boy.
A boy with short spiked black hair, deep red eyes and an ornate axe nearly as large as he was which he used as a walking stick.
He was dressed in the same manner with his own little uniform, flak vest and a backpack. The name 'Alaric' was stenciled on the front of his bag.
The marines arrived at the edge of the trees, spreading out and forming a perimeter with their weapons. The lead marine examined the area, checking the lay of the land and then raised a fist up.
"Okay, squad." He called out. "We'll camp here for the night." He then gestured to specific marines. "Mills, get a fire going. Hendrix, set up the motion tracker. The rest of you get comfy, this is gonna be a long night."
"Hey L.T.." A marine asked. "What's the objective for this exercise?"
"In the morning, we're going to navigate through that forest and do so in the quickest time possible." The lieutenant explained
Alaric walked over to a large oak that was nearest to him and sat down at the base. He pulled off his backpack and started rummaging around for something inside. He pulled out a ration bar and eagerly opened it.
All the marines went about their business. Sgt Hendrix, the squad's smartgunner, deployed the motion tracker unit on the grassy ground and activated it. It gave out blips as it tracked everyone's movements. When an enemy reached its range, it would give out its distinctive bleeps.
Pvt. Mills, the youngest squad member, walked up to Alaric with his marine issue shotgun on his shoulder. Alaric was biting into his bar and he looked up.
"Hey, Little Bro'." He said with a grin. "Enjoying this trip?"
Alaric nodded as he watched the others slip their packs off and started spreading out sleeping mats. Two marines brought out a large camouflaged tarpaulin and went about hammering the pegs into the ground. Another was busy making a ring of stones for a fire.
"Yeah, Big Bro'" He said back. "This is great."
"Yeah, you always liked training exercises."
Mills pointed at Alaric's axe.
"You like your gift?" The marine asked.
"Yes, it's the best present I ever had." Alaric said. "I wish I knew my dad, though."
Mills knelt down to his level.
"Don't worry." He assured Alaric. "I'm sure he's looking down on us at this moment."
He stood back up.
"Anyway, I gotta go get some firewood. Wanna help?" Mills asked.
Alaric nodded and slipped his pack on his back. He then picked up his axe and they both went over to their commanding officer, who was busy issuing orders.
They walked past their medic, Cpl Vidette, as she was busy checking her medical kit. She gave her greetings to Alaric as they passed. Another marine, their resident spiritual aide Pvt. Mikhail, was busy reciting a litany while cleaning the nozzle of his flamethrower. And busy talking to their leader was Pvt. Lucien, who was twiddling one of his many knives in his hands as he received orders to scout the perimeter. Lucian acknowledged his orders and moved off, juggling his knife in his hand.
Mills walked up to his C.O.
"L.T. I have something to ask." He said.
The lieutenant turned to him and he saw Alaric by the marine's side.
"Alaric, I see you haven't left your father's axe back on ship." He said, patting the boy on the shoulder. "And I can just tell it will be of great use in your hands."
Alaric smiled.
"Thanks, Razeal." He answered happily. "Lucien showed me how to use it."
Mills spoke up.
"Alaric wants to come and get wood with me." Mills said. "Is that alright, L.T.?"
Razeal thought about that for a second.
"I don't see why not." He said. "It'll be good to put Darius' axes back to use."
Razeal knelt down to Alaric's level.
"Stay with Mills, Alaric." He told the child before standing back up. "Mills, it's getting dark. Don't stay in the woods too long."
"No sweat, L.T." Mills assured his superior. "We got our lights and my N.V. Visor should it get dark."
Razeal patted Alaric on the head and bid them farewell. Mills gestured Alaric to follow him and they both went into the forest while the squad set up camp.
"You sound very fond of this Razeal." Ja'anya said, getting off the bed.
"Yes." Alaric answered, rubbing the grazes on his forehead. "Razeal was my father's squad mate and the closest thing to a father figure that I had. He and my father were in the squad together since basic training."
Ja'anya smiled as she walked out and into the bathroom to dispose of the cloth and blue stained bowl.
"Like my father and Kal'deris." She compared.
Alaric gave a short chuckle.
"That's one way of putting it." He said. "Mills, the rookie of the squad, was like the brother I never had. Just like Kra'vyx."
Ja'anya returned and sat back down. She saw Alaric pull out the photo of the squad and he pointed to each of the marines, telling her their names. He pointed to the smartgunner.
"Hendrix was like the crazy uncle." Alaric said. "He was a bit of a gun nut and he liked seeing something explode spectacularly. But he was a good man." He pointed at the female marine with the red cross painted on her left pauldron. "Vidette was the mother figure, she was always concerned about my health and would make sure I was fully prepared for anything that could happen."
Ja'anya looked and smiled.
"That's what a mother does." She said with a smile. "Mother's mentoring to Kra'vyx is evidence of that."
"Kind of" Alaric said, chuckling. "Only that she didn't slap me over the head for each slightest mistake."
Alaric pointed to the marine with the flamer and the Christian cross around his neck.
"Mikael was like a wise man the way he would talk about things. I never really paid much attention but I did learn some things, inspiring things, from him."
Alaric stopped for a second while he remembered the one lesson he had felt more strongly for then the others.
"He said to me once, 'Remember, those who command you, be they kings or men of power, your soul is in your keeping alone. When you stand before your gods to be judged, you cannot say 'But I was told by others to do thus' or 'That ideal was not convenient at the time.' That will not suffice."
"What does that mean?" Ja'anya asked.
"I think what he meant is that every person is responsible for their own destiny. Others may suggest different paths but the ultimate decision is yours alone."
He then scoffed.
"Too bad that didn't really apply in human history. In most cases if you have even the slightest difference in ideals or opinions, you would be prosecuted or even executed."
He pointed lastly to the marine who had several knives gripped in his fingers.
"Finally, this is Lucian." Alaric finished. "He was the one who instructed me in using my father's axes. As you can see from the numbers of knives on him, he was a blade expert."
Ja'anya counted the number of knives she could see. She counted ten of them.
"He must be quite the knife fighter." Ja'anya said.
"And a good aim with them too. I saw him slice a cigar in half while Mills was smoking it. Lucien hated smoking with a passion."
Alaric put the photo back in his pouch.
"What happened next?" Ja'anya asked.
"Well," Alaric continued. "we continued trekking through the forest, picking up various fuel bits as we went..."
Alaric and Mills walked through the dense undergrowth, gathering up twigs and dried moss for kindling. They both looked out for some good wood that would keep burning throughout the night. And after fifteen minutes of wandering into the woods, they came across a large oak.
Mills walked up and gave the trunk a few taps with his shotgun. The trunk had a nice solid sound, like it was in its prime. He then looked up at the over hanging branches. He saw a nice thick one above him. That would make nice firewood.
"Hey, Little Bro'?" He said.
Alaric walked up with a bundle of twigs in one arm and his axe in the other. Mills pointed up at the branch.
"Think you can climb up that tree and cut that branch off?" Mills asked.
Alaric looked up at the branch and he nodded.
"Yeah, I wanna try out my dad's axe!" Alaric enthusiastically said.
Alaric dropped the bundle he was carrying, unclipped his backpack, holstered his axe in its place in a specially made loop and ran up to the tree. He jumped, grabbed on an overhanging branch before deftly climbing up while Mills took a few steps back and watched. Alaric was very nimble as he moved from branch to branch, despite having an axe that was almost as big as he was.
'Look at him move.' Mills thought proudly. 'No wonder he's first in Phys Ed.'
Alaric quickly climbed over to the target branch and stood on it near the trunk of the oak.
Alaric hefted his axe, got the feel of it, examined the correct area and he brought it hard into the branch. The axe sliced cleanly through and the branch, which turned out to be closer then they thought, came crashing down with Mills diving out of the way. The branch crashed into the ground with a loud crack of splintering wood.
Mills spat some leaves out of his mouth and looked up at Alaric who was sitting up in the tree with a grin on his face.
"You could have said 'timber!' Little Bro'." Mills said, picking himself up off of the ground.
"If I did that then I wouldn't see you dive into the dirt." Alaric chirped as he started climbing back down.
Mills looked at the fallen branch and felt the cut. It was perfectly smooth.
"Damn, I keep forgetting how sharp they are." Mills said as he dusted himself off.
Alaric landed next to him.
"How's that?" He asked.
Mills grinned.
"Alaric, you're just like your father." He said, "Come on, let's cut this up."
Alaric soon hacked away at the branch, getting the hang of his father's axe quickly. In no time at all, they had a nice cut pile of logs and they went about gathering what they could carry.
Alaric followed Mills as they trekked back to camp, carrying a large bundle of twigs and dried moss. Mills was carrying several logs of oak branch, staggering slightly under the weight. They were lagging behind as the sun was nearly down and it was getting too dark to see far. Luckily, their shoulder lamps came in use.
They came near to the forest edge where Alaric tripped over an upturned root he missed from his lamp's gaze. He fell flat into the leaf covered ground and bounced.
"You okay, Little Bro'?" Mills asked while stopping and watching Alaric pick himself up.
Alaric had a mouthful of leaves which he promptly spat out and that was when he saw glowing light.
The light caused by fire.
"Did they make a fire already?" Alaric asked, annoyed and moving on towards camp.
Mills stopped suddenly and held a hand down, stopping Alaric from moving. An explosion, a pulse rifle grenade detonating, was heard, the sound ripping through the forest.
"That's not a campfire, Alaric!" Mills said, "We're under attack!"
He dropped the logs and brought his shotgun up. He checked the magazine and then cocked it. He looked down to Alaric.
"Stay close and turn your lamp off." He told Alaric in a firm tone but quiet voice.
Alaric switched his lamp off as Mills did the same. Mills brought his visor down and moved cautiously forward, trying not to make noise.
They didn't get far before they saw a dark figure running towards them. Mills raised his shotgun but lowered it quickly when he found that it was L.T. Razeal. The lieutenant stopped in front of them, changing his pulse rifle's magazine.
"Mills, Alaric, thank god you two are alright." Razeal said, out of breath.
"What's happening, L.T.?" Mills asked. Then he noticed two jagged slash cuts on Razeal's chest plate. "What the hell did that!"
"Predators are attacking the camp."
"Predators?"
Alaric was confused by the name.
"Predators?" He asked.
"Alien hunters." Razeal told him before looking back at Mills. "Five of them as far as we know. We're holding but it's getting seriously FUBAR. Why they didn't kill us right away, I don't know."
An explosion of blue light erupted from the camp sight and several curses where heard along with Mikhail shouting some religious verses. Razeal looked down to Alaric who was agitated by the yelling.
"We need to get you to a safe place, Alaric." He said.
He looked around and he saw a large oak with a hollow space underneath it. It was big enough to hold a child and was fairly deep down. It will have to do at this time.
"Come on, Alaric." He ordered, grabbing Alaric's hand. "Over here."
Razeal and Mills led Alaric to the tree and pointed to the hollow. They lowered Alaric into the hollow, using the moss and twigs to cover up the most of the hole to form a bit of quick camouflage. The two marines hoped that it would work as they knelt down. They could barely see Alaric in this hollow, only his glittering eyes could be seen.
"Alaric, listen carefully." Razeal explained. "No matter what happens, do not leave this space."
"But..." Alaric tried to protest.
"Alaric, don't argue with this. Leave these hunters to us. You'll only get in the way".
Alaric looked at Mills.
"Big bro'?" He said, holding back tears.
"Alaric, we all promised your dad to keep you and your mom safe." Mills said, "We failed her and we do not intend to fail with you."
"For your father's sake, stay here and stay down." Razeal urged as he reached for something in his pack. "Here, take this and stay under it."
Alaric took what was given to him, a rolled sheet of some canvas-like material, nodded and crouched down. He pulled the sheet over his head.
"There's a good boy." Razeal praised. "Remember, stay in this hollow, no matter what."
Razeal and Mills stood back up and readied their weapons. Razeal cocked his pulse rifle's grenade launcher.
"Ready, Mills?" Razeal asked
Mills nodded, and raised his shotgun.
"Let's rock, L.T." He said.
They then bolted back into the fray while Alaric could only watch. He ducked down, pulling the sheet over him fully and reached into his bag. He pulled out a com-bead, hooked it on his ear and switched it to the squad frequency, as he set it to listen only. He also brought out a small flat screen monitor and switched it on to Razeal's helmet cam with the sound muted.
What Alaric saw was something out of a nightmare that no child should ever see.
Razeal and Mills burst through the bushes, firing their weapons. They were in time to see Mikhail being thrown several yards to their left, his flamethrower's emissions marking his trajectory. While the preacher heaved himself up, Razeal and Mills picked their targets and attacked.
Alaric watched the battle rage on his monitor and he saw that one of the marines was dead already. It was Lucian, face down in the dirt with several spear tips lodged in his back. His blood was pooling around him. But it looked like he did some damage as one Yautja pulled a knife from his leg and another from his side.
Hendrix fired his smartgun in one long volley, shell casings flying in a hailstorm of brass. The flames around the campsite helped to reveal the predators' locations. They appeared like ghosts and sparks erupted from them as their armor absorbed the impacting rounds. Hendrix cursed loudly as he saw the rounds inflict no damage.
He flinched as his smartgun suddenly exploded in a blue flash and then he felt a fist impact his face. He was then restrained by a hunter that de-cloaked behind him.
Mikhail fired his flamethrower at the Yautja going after Vidette. The flames barely had any effect and the hunter turned to the preacher.
"Come and get me, demon!" He shouted, aiming his weapon again. "Have a little cleansing flame!"
Then something burst from his chest in a shower of gore. It was a long spear, wielded by a hunter who had sneaked up from behind him. He was then hoisted roughly into the air, brood streaming from his wound and mouth and was then set into the ground. He struggled to breath from this sudden attack, aiming his flamer desperately around, intent on burning whoever had impaled him. His flamethrower then exploded from a plasma bolt and he was doused in flames. He yelled and thrashed, trying to put out the flames but to no avail as he slowly burned at the stake.
His arms fell limply down and he uttered his last words.
"Deus, servo Timor ex diabolus"- God, protect Alaric from the demons.
Mills gave out a yell of pain as he felt a cleft blade projectile impact his left bicep and nailed him to the tree he was crouching next to. His shotgun fell out of his reach and a Yautja uncloaked and held him at spear point. Vidette ran to his aid, only to get her legs pulled form under her as she got caught in a trip line. She flipped over and fired her pulse rifle catching her assailant in the shoulder in a shower of sparks. The Yautja tore the gun from her hand, threw it away and stomped on her leg. She screamed in pain as she heard and felt her bones snap.
Razeal was blindsided by one hunter and he found himself face down in the dirt and his arms restrained behind his back. He struggled hard against his captor's grasp. His efforts were answered with a jarring punch to the head. Razeal was dazed momentarily, long enough for his assailant to get a firm grip on him.
The surviving marines were formed into a line, next to Mills nailed to his tree. Each had a Yautja hunter restraining them. The Yautja forced them on their knees for some reason. Hendrix was still resisting so his captor gave him a smack over the head and forced him into the ground face first. Vidette was trying to stem the bleeding in her fractured leg. Razeal was not making any effort to fight any more, for what reason is unknown. Perhaps he was biding his time, waiting for the right moment.
The captors then forcibly raised their heads and they saw a sixth predator de-cloak. This one had more ornate armor then the others, skulls of varying species were fixed to him. A striking feature was the mask, which had raised horn-like spines on the top in the same way that a crown would be. No doubt, he was the lead hunter. He walked to them with a posture that reeked with superiority.
The leader looked at them with a manner that showed he was secretly offended by their presence.
"Greetings, Oomans." It spoke, electronically through its mask. "I trust you ma-rines are comfortable."
"I'd like to see you in this position and call that comfy!" Hendrix mumbled through the earth.
The leader coughed at that remark and resumed.
"Do you oomans have any clue as to why I am here?" He asked.
Mills tried to go for a little verbal warfare.
"I'm guessing your mother got drunk one night and had it off with the nearest janitor, resulting in you!" Mills called out.
The squad snickered at that while the leader turned to him and with a flick of the wrist, Mills found his forearm was now impaled on a spear tip. He yelped in pain while the leader snorted mockingly.
"As I was saying, do you have any clue as to why I am here?" He asked again.
The marines didn't answer.
"Let me jog your memories." the Yautja said, walking up the line. "You have in your care, a child. A special kind of child, a boy with red eyes."
The reaction was immediate. The marines struggled against their captors and the leader chuckled at their attempts.
"I thought that would get your attention." He snickered before looking over at Mikhail's flame encroached corpse. "Well, nearly all of you."
He turned and walked over to Mills who was watching with contempt. The Yautja Leader towered over him.
"You are the one the boy calls 'brother'." He said
Mills stared defiantly and his mouth went off again.
"And you're the one I call a 'Sadistic fuck'." Mills spat back.
The lead Yautja retracted his combi-stick and swung it casually in his hand.
"Now, you can probably guess what's going to happen if you don't cooperate." The Leader explained. "So, I suggest you tell me where the boy is."
Mills gave the Yautja a glare.
"If you think I'm gonna let my little bro' get hurt by you." He said, "You can fuck off and die!"
The Leader cocked his head and flicked his stave in his hand.
"'Fuck off' maybe." He contemplated. "but die...".
He then rammed the stave right into Mills. The stave tore right through him, shattering bone and tearing flesh as the weapon tore right through his heart and penetrated the tree, bursting through the inner wall in a red gush. Mills chocked and gasped as he felt his life tear from him and blood gushing out of his chest. With a final retch and a gag, Mills died, his head loping down.
Alaric watched in horror from his monitor screen as his brother was killed in front of the squad.
"I have no intention of doing so." The Leader finished.
Hendrix took his chance. He gave a hard elbow to his attackers crotch. And amazingly it worked as the captor fell backwards, holding his groin and grunting in pain. The universal weak spot of any male.
Hendrix drew his knife from its shoulder holster and charged at The Leader. He swung his knife, missing the Yautja by an inch and he was grabbed by the neck. His knife hand was then twisted hard until he dropped his knife and then he was hoisted up.
The others expected him to be executed for that, but the Yautja had other plans.
"This one is fiery." The Leader said, with a hint of happy surprise. "Have him put into the arena with the others."
He then threw Hendrix back into line and the marine was forcibly shoved hard into the ground and restrained by his captor who recovered from the 'personal' attack. The leader then walked over to Vidette. He grabbed her around the neck and heaved her up as his subordinate stepped back.
"I take it you are the mother figure to the boy." The Leader said.
Vidette gave no answer. The Yautja scoffed
"I would imagine that motherly bond would prevent you from letting the child get hurt." The Leader said.
"And I guess that bond didn't stop you slitting your mother's throat?" She spat back.
The Leader ignored her as he picked her up by the neck and sadistically started twisting her fractured leg with her free hand. She stifled the screams as best as she could while the others could only watch in horror.
"Now, putting my mother aside." He said, giving her leg a final shattering twist. "Where is the child?"
Vidette now had tears of pain trickling her face. Yet she had remained resolute against this torture.
"Tell me and you and your ma-rines shall be spared." He then offered.
Vidette shook her head.
"You'll just kill us anyway." She spat.
There was a pause and then a ghostly chuckle escaped from the Yautja's mask.
"Too true." The leader said, cocking his head.
The leader then, with one flick of his wrist, snapped her neck like a twig. He then threw her lifeless body over his shoulder like yesterday's trash. She landed in a limp heap.
Razeal took his chance. Throughout the interrogation, he had been reaching for his desert eagle sidearm located on the back of his hip. So far, they didn't notice.
He gripped his pistol tightly, took a deep breath and rammed the barrel under the jaw of his captor and squeezed the trigger. The top of the Yautja's head erupted like a green volcano and he was hurled backwards by the force of the high caliber bullet, his grip on Razeal gone.
Razeal was free, for the moment.
He fired at the closest hunter next to him, scoring a head shot and sending the Yautja reeling back from the impact as he retreated back into the trees. The mask had annoyingly caught the bullet and stopped it in its tracks. The hunters drew their weapons and aimed their plasma casters. The triangular dots appeared around Razeal.
"Get out of here, Razeal!" Hendrix yelled. "Get him away!"
Razeal dashed into the woods, a plasma bolt impacting on the tree next to him. The hunters moved to intercept but The Leader growled at them commandingly. It looked as if their leader wanted to finish this himself. Maybe this human would lead him to the boy. And he could kill two birds with one stone.
The Leader moved into the forest, his wristblades extending.
Razeal ran past the trees and smashing through bushes to the area where he'd hidden Alaric but he didn't go to get Alaric. Not that he had much of a chance as the Yautja leader had caught up with him with surprising speed. Razeal fired a few shots at the Yautja Leader and he missed. He ducked under the wristblades that were going for his neck.
Alaric looked out of the hollow and saw Razeal crash through a bush and the predator smashed through after him.
Razeal fired his pistol again and a flash of metal whizzed through the air, followed by crimson blood and then his left forearm. He had no time to react to his loss of a limb as he was grabbed by the neck and rammed hard into a tree and then hoisted several feet off the ground. Razeal then drove his pistol under the Yautja's head and saw a horrible sight. His pistol's slide was open. There were no more rounds left and he couldn't reload it
The Leader swatted the weapon from his head and moved his head closer to Razeal's.
"I underestimated you." He said. "It's true that oomans are unpredictable, but it makes no difference. They are all weak and die in the end."
Razeal felt his throat constricting as the Yautja started chocking him.
"I won't ask again." He warned. "Where... is... the boy?"
Razeal stared defiantly at his soon to be executioner. He had no fear, not against cowards who would gleefully kill children. He just spat blood onto the Yautja's visor.
"I promised his father not to let anything happen to him." Razeal choked. "I'd rather die then let you do anything to him, coward!"
The Yautja cocked his head, like he was taken back by that sincere condemnation. Then his plasma caster on his right shoulder aimed for Razeal's chest. The three dots moved into position.
"So be it!" The predator roared.
A blinding flash lit up the forest and Alaric ducked down back into the hollow, covering his ears as it filled with light. When he rose back up, his mouth dropped open in shock. Razeal's head limply hung down and his chest was blown clean through with a plasma bolt that left a large hole in his chest cavity. The edges of his armor glowed hot, his insides smoked from the heat and blood covered the facing tree trunk in an arc and trickled down his body.
Alaric wanted to scream at that moment but he held his breath with a hand over his mouth and he ducked lower.
The leader scoffed and threw Razeal to the ground, his body bouncing in the leaf covered ground. He looked around the forest, searching for Alaric. Alaric gripped the sheet he was wrapped in tightly, tears were starting to form in his eyes but he held strong. The Yautja moved closer to his hiding place. Alaric ducked down as low as he could as he heard the treading of taloned feet. He could see the Yautja standing there, right outside the hollow. He didn't dare make a move or even breath. After what seemed like the longest minute of his life, the Yautja turned and walked back, muttering in his native tongue while wiping his mask clean with leaves and signaling to his hunters.
As soon as the Yautja was out of sight, Alaric looked down at his monitor and switched it to Hendrix's helmet-cam. He saw The Leader emerge from the trees and spoke in his own language to his hunters. The Leader's hunters picked up their dead comrade and started hauling a still kicking Hendrix with them.
Alaric switched to Hendrix's frequency to hear what was going on. He could hear Hendrix still resisting against his captors. They were moving into the grassy plains and Alaric saw their ship uncloak. Those aliens had been waiting for them all along. They attacked the squad first to eliminate any potential protection they would have given Alaric.
A side hatch opened and a ramp projected down. The Yautja marched upwards.
"It seems the interrogations failed miserably." The leader muttered in English still. "I'm surprised that they would face death for one miserable child."
He turned to Hendrix and cocked his head.
"At least I got one consolation prize from this."
A pause filled the space with only Hendrix straining in the background. The Leader cocked his head at Hendrix.
"Let's do this the traditional and more fun way. Release the hounds."
"You fucking sadistic animal!" Hendrix shouted.
The leader raised a fist and then a blow was heard landing, Hendrix's helmet cam was destroyed from the blow, filling the monitor with static and Hendrix was silenced.
"We'll return within the next moon cycle and see what the hounds have left us." The Leader ordered to his subordinates. "I'm going to have much entertainment watching you fight for your life." The Leader said to Hendrix as the com link broke down.
Alaric could hear the hatchway seal shut as the ship revved its engines. It could then be heard from where he was hiding as a roar of energy erupted, briefly illuminating the forest and then there was silence and darkness. He stayed in the hollow, too frightened to venture out.
Alaric rubbed his eyes as he recalled that painful day. Ja'anya was silent as she heard the tragic story of his childhood. How Alaric could recall every detail was astonishing and yet it was a burden.
His photographic memory was both a gift and a curse.
"I stayed in that hollow for God knows how long." Alaric said, lowering his hand. "I was too scared to even move. It was nightfall before I dared heave myself out of that hollow."
It was nightfall by the time Alaric heaved himself out of the hollow, pushing the stick and moss barrier away. Alaric switched his lamp on and he shuffled over to Razeal's still smoking body. His empty pistol was a few inches from his hand. Alaric knelt next to the dead marine, pulled the sheet off himself and looked at it. He found a label stenciled into the lining
'MKVIII Thermal Insulation Sheet, Stealth Issue.'
Alaric remembered before being told that these hunters track their prey by sensing body heat. Razeal had given him the immunity from the Yautja's preying eyes. Alaric looked at Razeal's face, defiance still in his dead eyes.
"Thank you...Razeal." Alaric croaked with tears in his eyes, lifting the visor up and shutting Razeal's eyes.
He got up walked into the open, leaving Razeal's body for now, and he saw the devastation first hand. Mills was impaled on the tree, which was now using his blood as fertilizer. Vidette lay in a broken heap. Mikhail's charred body was still impaled on its stake and Lucien's pin cushion corpse lay where he died. Fires burned all around him, littering the campsite in glowing flames.
Alaric saw the only family he had ever known strewn around him like so much refuse. They were all dead because of him. They had died protecting him.
He heard low growling around him and in the fire's light emerged a pack of predator hounds, seven strong surrounding him. He looked around and saw the hounds reaching ever closer, their razor sharp mandibles and teeth reflecting the fires' light. Their trainer uncloaked, walking closer to Alaric. And he had his wristblades extended. And even though Alaric was outnumbered and had no chance of surviving, he felt only one thing… but it wasn't fear.
Anger.
Rage.
Alaric felt something stir in him. It was like liquid fire in his blood. He had watched helplessly on the monitor as the only family he had, the only links to the parent he would never know, were killed while he was hiding under a tree. He watched Razeal, the only man he ever would call Father, die protecting him.
He wasn't going to let their deaths be for nothing.
He threw his head back and gave out a long loud echoing roar. This roar was enough to make the hounds back off in surprise. His eyes then flashed into a glowing red and his hair rose into sharp spikes. He grabbed his father's axe and he charged into the first of many fights in his life.
That was the first time the Rage, the strength of his ancestors, came forth.
The hounds lunged at Alaric and in rapid fluid succession, Alaric had cut down every last one. The hounds, despite their ferocity and greater numbers, were no match for the Rage induced boy. Alaric moved like he was possessed, the hounds never laid a claw on him. His axe sliced through their tough hides and solid muscles like butter.
The trainer only stood there, not moving. That was until Alaric set his crimson gaze on him. And trainer stumbled backwards, turned tail and ran, hoping to lose Alaric in the trees. Alaric swung his axe hard and threw it at the fleeing hunter. There was whistling metal as it sliced powerfully through the air, the slicing of flesh and bone, followed by a thunk as it slammed home into a tree.
And the trainer limply hung from the tree, nailed fast by Alaric's axe in his back.
Alaric gave out a long loud roar to the trees, loud enough to make the night time animals flutter and scamper away.
When Alaric calmed down enough he saw that he, a seven year old boy, had decimated the hounds. There were bodies and pieces of bodies everywhere. His axe and his clothes were dripping in glowing green blood. His hair fell back down as he collapsed on his back with a light thud.
He laid there, tired and exhausted from his first fight as his eyes reverted to their normal state.
After what felt like a hours, he heaved himself up. He saw Mills' impaled body on the tree. He staggered over before grabbing the stave and with some struggling, managed to pry it loose. He pulled the weapon out and chucked it away. Mills went lolling to the side and Alaric caught him before laying him gently down.
He then saw that Mikael's charred corpse had slid all the way down the stake and was now smoldering. Using the thermal sheet to protect his hands, Alaric pulled the stave out of the dead preacher.
Alaric now had to do something that would stay in his mind for the rest of his life.
Alaric dug all of the graves by hand, using what he could improvise with salvaged lamp packs and the glowing flames as his only light source. He found surprising strength when he dragged the bodies, wrapped in their ponchos, into their graves. He fought back tears of grief as he buried them. He fashioned crosses out of sticks and planted them at the heads of the graves. He made one for Hendrix too, despite the fact that there was no body to receive it. Using thick pieces of tree bark, he carved their names onto them and placed them on the respective graves.
He knelt in front of them and reached into his pack. He pulled out an old leather bound tome and flicked the pages. Then, in the language of his ancestors, he performed last rites.
Sitting in front of a small fire at the base of the trees, wrapped in the thermal sheet, Alaric sat munching on a ration bar with his axe on his lap. He had cleaned himself as best he could and the dead hounds with their trainer were piled in a heap a few meters away. The predators did a thorough job in scorching the earth. Like they were wiping out all evidence that they ever set foot on this world. He didn't have much supplies, only what he had in his pack, because the supplies the marines brought with them were nearly all destroyed by the fires. But he was determined not to let the lessons the squad taught him go to waste.
Alaric looked at the graves of the marines before looking up into the star filled sky. He saw the stars high in the heavens. There was only one thing, more then anything else he wanted to find among those stars.
And it made tears well in his eyes.
"Dad, where are you?" Alaric said.
"It was two weeks before a search team arrived to find out why we never checked in." Alaric said. "They found me on the last morning huddled up against Razeal's grave. The marines were surprised when they saw the corpse pile I had erected. I was a bit hesitant in letting them near me but they reassured me enough to get close."
Alaric scratched his head.
"When I was being checked over, my survival for the last seven days and Razeal and the others were being exhumed, I made up my mind right there. I said that I wanted to join the marines. Despite objections from the civilian sections about the welfare of a child in military hands, the marine corps took custody of me because that was the only life I knew. Like the Spartans of the ancient world, I now considered myself a soldier in training.
"And that was the end of my short lived childhood."
Ja'anya was speechless. She had just heard the most painful story she had ever listened to. And one that should never have happened to someone like Alaric. It made her father's loss look insignificant in comparison.
While she and Kra'vyx had their mother Zel'tyr and Kal'deris, Alaric had no one.
"I…"Ja'anya said, trying to speak. "I had no idea."
"You wouldn't." Alaric said, looking down at his feet. "I have never told anyone about that. Not even my wife. Your race was the reason I became a marine because I didn't want anyone to have to go through that like I did. And that was the reason for the distrust I held against you that first day."
"If anyone had that happen to them, they would feel distrustful. Why would those hunters do that?"
"I don't know. They seemed intent on killing me for some reason. I just don't know why. The corps only knew that this was beyond a normal hunter's style."
Ja'anya took a breath. She felt she had intruded on Alaric's peace long enough. She felt that Alaric needed some time to be alone.
"I'm sure you'll want some time alone." She said, gathering up her things on the tray.
She got up and walked out to the door.
"Ja'anya." Alaric said.
She turned back to Alaric.
"Yes, Alaric." Ja'anya asked.
Alaric took a breath as he prepared himself to say something that he had trouble figuring out how to say since the day they first met. Something that he very rarely said to anyone. Ja'anya placed the tray on the ground and walked back over to Alaric, sitting back down.
"My military upbringing and troubled past meant I was never really personal with other people." He said, choosing his words carefully. "I never opened myself to them because I didn't want to go through losing them. I just kept to myself and my training. I had comrades in arms but I thought of them as people I fight with and never got close with them if it can be helped. But... I guess what I'm saying is... well... you're the first real friend I've ever had and I really appreciate the talks that we have." He lowered his head. "Thank you, Ja'anya... for everything..."
Ja'anya placed her hand on Alaric's cheek and he went silent. She then raised his head so that he faced her. Her violet eyes met with his ruby eyes. She saw in his eyes that it was hurting him talking about his past while he saw in her eyes comfort and someone who would be there for him. Then by some cue, they slowly moved their heads forwards, shutting their eyes and their foreheads touched.
"And thank you, Alaric." Ja'anya said, "For being mine."
She then drew Alaric in for a much needed hug. Alaric was hesitant but he slowly hugged her back and they both fell back onto the bed. To be truthful, Ja'anya pulled Alaric down with her but Alaric didn't care.
They just stayed there in each other's embrace for a time. How long the stayed like that, they didn't know but they didn't care either.
And they didn't notice Zel'tyr who had come to check on them when Ja'anya wasn't answering the door. She saw the bedroom door open and the tray with food and the blue stained cloth and bowl on it. She walked over to the door and peered inside and she astonished to see both Alaric and Ja'anya asleep in each other's arms while still clothed. She was surprised to see them, on her bed like this but she wasn't shocked or angry. She saw that, after that match and the state he was in, Alaric was in need of comfort and reassurance and her daughter had provided that to him.
While she had reservations about Ja'anya being close with an ooman, she saw that the two were made for each other. She was certain that Kal'deris would think otherwise. He would be the overreacting if he saw this and Kra'vyx would remark eccentrically if he caught wind of this.
She decided to keep this to herself and then discuss this with Ja'anya some other time.
Zel'tyr smiled as Ja'anya stirred and shuffled closer to Alaric. Zel'tyr chose this moment to leave them in peace and come back later. But before she left, she placed a small object on the dining table. Something personal of Zel'tyr's that had relevant meaning.
It was holographic picture and it showed a young Zel'tyr in the embracing presence of a young male of her age, both in their hunter gear in a jungle setting with their masks removed. The male Yautja had darker skin then Zel'tyr's, darker stripes and contrasting golden amber eyes. They both had their foreheads together and their eyes half shut.
Her name was engraved where she was and another name was engraved under the male.
Kra'vyn.
Ja'anya's father.