Hey everyone!
Due to over commitments, work mostly and serious brainstorming for the story, I will be posting this chapter in parts. I am trying to keep a mix of revelation and mystery without spoiling significant details. I am also going to be introducing new elements in which I have to think tactically about implementing, things that would subtly link humans with yautja and other races, giving rise to certain mythological concepts.
At any rate, stay tuned as I post the new parts and hopefully get this chapter done right.
wish me luck!
Updated 11/5/2013: Zel'tyr comforting Ja'anya
Editorial note 12/8/2013: due to my computer going for maintenance, due to a buggered power supply unit that's preventing it from starting up properly, I am concluding this chapter as it is. I've renamed the chapter and will continue on when able. Shouldn't take more than a week I hope. don't worry, most of Alaric's coming ordeal has been written so it won't take me long to resume.
Chapter 19- Aftermath.
The battered, exhausted initiates along with their equally battered and exhausted archangel guides finally returned to the colony after another agonizing trek for the last few kilometers. They navigated past the tunnel obstructions, the barricades, and the sentries on duty. The eyes of the colonists and marines near the tunnel observed them apprehensively after seeing just how beaten up they were and quickly realized that their expedition had not gone well. The Archangel's APC was not being driven back by them and they were missing most of their gear. Plus, most of all, that one of them was missing.
Kra'vyx was still being supported by Mal'fax and Fel'tak while Ly'enta trailed behind them. Sergei was leading the entourage and Mac was holding the rearguard, both with their swords out and resting on their shoulders.
The sentry guns that Sven had set up before their foray into the refinery beeped away as they scanned their programmed kill zones, their added bladed armor camouflaging them in the barricades composed of wreckage. They had been encoded to not fire on the initiates, who'd had their profiles added to the sentries' IFF interface as friendlies.
The two archangels lowered their swords as they reach the courtyard of the colony.
"Well, we're back at home base, finally." Sergei told the initiates as he reached his helmet's chinstrap with his free hand. "Get some rest while you can."
Mac muttered in agreement with his comrade as he reached for his own chinstrap. The initiates, on the other hand, wanted to be some place quiet, get some food in their bellies and sleep. These young Yautja had been through so much in just over the span of a single day. They'd crash landed on this barren planet of hellish ice, nearly froze to death in a snowstorm, got attacked by ungodly xenomorphs, renegade hunters, and nearly died falling down a chasm into the bowels of the planet. If that didn't qualify them for earning a hunter's title, then nothing would.
It was a tragedy that Alaric had fallen, literally, at that last hurdle.
The initiates moved off with Mal'fax now fully supporting Kra'vyx on his shoulder. Fel'tak and Ly'enta followed behind as they headed towards a hab unit that wasn't in use. Colonists gave them a wide berth as they passed.
Sergei undid his chinstrap with a click, removed his helmet, and rubbed his face on his sleeve, his matted hair furling out in sweat drenched and slightly frozen strands.
"I need a stiff drink." He said, lowering his arm.
Mac muttered in agreement to that as well.
Captain Kabowski, who was talking to Sven and foreman Hernandez about something relating to the colony, noticed them arriving and walked up with a look of relief on his face as he removed his helmet. Sven walked back off to the command centre, not before giving them a wave in greeting. Hernandez walked off to the habs before shouting out orders to a group of miners waiting nearby, who in turn ran off while shouting orders.
Colonists were now starting to move back and forth from the habs, carrying supplies and mining gear to the garages. From their body language, it appeared that the colony was preparing for some major action to occur at any moment.
"You're finally back." Andrzej expressed in relief, approaching Sergei and seeing the battered state of him and Mac. "What the hell happened back there?"
Sergei, in a fit of unleashing his pent up anger, heaved his helmet and hurled it up and over Andrzej's head as he finally let his frustration burst forth in a surprisingly calm manner. His helmet bounced off a hab wall with a loud clang, startling a nearby colonist before rolling away.
"Captain." Sergei greeted, rubbing his hands through his matted hair and keeping his temper. "It's been one ambush and another since we touched down on this FUBAR of an ice ball." he then pointed a thumb towards the initiates. "I don't know how much more shit we can take and I'm sure the same goes for them, too." He then straightened himself. "But the operation was a success, nonetheless." he added, before walking off. "The hive is sealed off...hopefully."
Sergei headed off towards the mess shed, intent on getting a drink down him. Andrzej at that point, after doing a quick head count, realized that Alaric was missing and rushed after the Russian. Mac walked after them, sheathing his katana and lifting his helmet while the initiates were busy making themselves comfortable.
"Where's Alaric?" Andrzej demanded, catching up to Sergei. "Where is he?"
"He's gone." Sergei spat out dismally. "Isn't it obvious?"
Sergei entered the shed, chucking his shaska sword with a loud ringing clatter on the nearest table. He grabbed a hot mug of coffee from a tray on the keep-hot counter before sitting down at the table with an annoyed thud. Andrzej appeared in front to him and thumped his hands down on the table in an authoritative manner. Sergei wasn't fazed by this as he reached for his belt.
"Define 'gone', Sergeant Major." Andrzej ordered in a strict tone. "What happened?"
Sergei picked out a flask of authentic Russian vodka from his belt, miraculously undamaged from the skirmish at the refinery and poured some of the cooled liquor into the mug. He then took a large gulp, the coffee partially cooled down from the alcohol didn't burn his throat, and sighed in Russian.
Drinking on duty was against army regulations but in this case, enforcing the law on Sergei when he's having a taste of his homeland would be pointless. Sergei wouldn't let anything or anyone get between him and his vodka. The last person to try, a fiercely by-the-book officer, ended up in needing a face cast from a well placed head-butt.
"Well, Mac and I were holed up in the refinery's entry, waiting for Alaric and his predator friends when we heard fighting outside the entrance to the mines." Sergei explained as Mac walked in and grabbed a mug. "Upon arriving, we saw that Alaric and the initiates were being attacked by two more of those hostile hunters, only these ones were far more deadly."
He took a breath, remembering how badly Alaric and the initiates had been faring in that fight.
"One looked like a hardened veteran, with a metal plate over one eye and wielding double bladed sickles, acted all professional while fighting Alaric, proving to be a challenging match for him." He shuddered as he started mentioning the second. "The other one, bor, it was a hulking monster as it knocked off the young hunters one by one." he continued. "Alaric lost it when he heard Kra'vyx cry out."
Mac pitched in as he sat down next to Sergei, who swigged more of his coffee and started muttering to himself in Russian.
"Alaric, enraged at this point, rushed to their rescue but that predator, if you could even call it that, was a demon in the way it fought." he said. "I don't know what the hell was going on with it or how it did it, but it was faster then even Alaric despite its size."
Andrzej was surprised that a Yautja could be faster than Alaric in one of his Rage episodes. He would have written it off as an overactive imagination, were it not for the earnestly in Mac's voice and Sergei's silent confirmation. Until he could actually see one in action, he would have to take it at face value.
"How?" he asked. "How can a hunter be faster then Alaric in one of his moods?"
Sergei juggled his mug in thought as he worked his memory.
"I reckon it had some sort of drug injector or something. I definitely saw it reaching for its wrist pad." he postulated. "Probably some sort of adrenaline mix, I don't know. The traits that bastard showed were increased muscle size, blurring speed and glowing eyes, almost exactly like Alaric." he shuddered. "Just the thought of them having something that could make them like Alaric is frightening."
Andrzej was somewhat concerned, and actually disturbed by this piece of information. Marines were known to have a hard enough time just trying to get an even fight against the Yautja, with the hunters' more powerful weaponry and far greater strength providing a considerable edge. But the thought of a Yautja that could actually overpower Alaric was a frightening prospect.
Mac gulped down his coffee, emptying his mug before refilling it.
"It was painful to watch." Sergei continued. "Alaric was getting the life beaten out of him by that bastard, who was tossing and smashing him around like a rag doll. He eventually lost his axes and ended up pinned against one of the cavern walls while being pummeled in the face. " he then held his thumb and index finger apart a mere inch. "Alaric was this close to being run through with its wristblades."
He lowered his hand.
"We intervened at that point, me having successfully disarmed that bastard with my rifle before that veteran flushed me out with a plasma barrage." Sergei said, gesturing to his tattered cloak. "Mac stealthed his way down, hoping for a quick decapitation from behind. Unfortunately, that veteran hunter foiled it and engaged us the both of us."
Sergei gingerly rubbed his shoulder while Mac surreptitiously rubbed his head while pretending to scratch.
"You got your asses kicked?" Andrzej questioned, knowing the answer from their body language.
Sergei gave a defeated sigh.
"Suffice to say, that hunter had more skill then the two of us combined and it dispatched Mac by backhanding him into a pile of crates." Sergei told the captain. "It was content with twisting my arm out of line and choking me instead. I honestly thought it was going to tear my head off right then and there."
Sergei paused for a moment, gulping down his most of his coffee and refilling the mug with the last of his vodka before he continued.
"Then, as if it was an act of God, something fucked up happened." Sergei added.
Andrzej looked at Sergei with a frown that showed how incredulous that event sounded to him.
"Fucked up?" He asked. "What can be possibly more fucked up then a rampaging predator that can pummel an enraged Alaric?"
"You might want to sit down, Sir." Mac warned.
Andrzej sat down opposite them, resting his hands on the table like a police interrogator.
"Well?" the captain asked. "What is this fucked up thing?"
Sergei looked over his shoulders to make sure that no one was eavesdropping. It was blatantly obvious that this was to be between the three of them. Sergei paused as he thought of the best way to explain what happened at the refinery that turned the tide of the fight. He then motioned Andzrej to leaned a bit closer, who complied with some skeptical anticipation.
"Alaric changed." Sergei said, not able to think of how to explain.
Andrzej, having gone through all kinds of complicated explanations in his head, was at a loss from those two words. He thought that Sergei was messing with him.
"Changed?" Andrzej questioned with puzzlement lacing his tone. "What do you mean, changed?"
"He just changed. I don't know how but he changed." Sergei said, shrugging his shoulders.
"'He went berserk again, didn't he?" Andrzej guessed in a cynical tone, sitting up.
Mac coughed at his superior's question. Not as an insult but more of a correction.
"Berserk? I don't think berserk is the right word, Sir." he said, loosening his collar. "What we saw couldn't be humanly possible. He just...went way beyond that edge."
Andrzej at this point was now concerned. Now, even Mac was acting strange about Alaric.
"Explain." Andrzej ordered to the both of them. "In your own way and time."
Sergei juggled his coffee, watching the lightened liquid ripple inside the mug. Mac rubbed the tattoos under his eyes.
Where do they begin? How do they explain the unexplainable?
Sergei was the one to tell the story.
"Well, I couldn't see too well, what with being strangled and all. First, I heard Alaric shout in a voice that... didn't seem to be his." Sergei started, concentrating on using the correct wording. "When I got a better view, in other words when the veteran hunter actually stopped choking me, Alaric had just kicked that brute of a predator clean off him and he was... different." Sergei then pointed at parts of his body, describing how Alaric changed. "His eyes went almost, like... glowing with luminescence like auroras or something. And these weird glowing lines had... bled through his skin like tattoos. Almost like white hot fire was burning within him."
Andrzej was perplexed and skeptical from what Sergei said. How could glowing lines suddenly appear someone's skin? He knew that Alaric's eyes could go bright whenever he was angry, but this was something else.
"Perplexing." Andrzej said. "Continue."
Sergei sat back, juggling his mug in his hand.
"That predator was excited when it saw that Alaric was still fighting, although for some reason Alaric refused to use his big axe, simply tossing it over to where the others were." Sergei recalled before giving a slight laugh. "The bastard lunged back at him, kept trying to hit Alaric but... Alaric was like a ghost. The predator just couldn't hit him even though Alaric was basically standing still." He then smirked. "Alaric on the other hand, was hitting that bastard and hitting him hard. And by hitting him hard, I mean like a dropship screaming through the atmosphere hard."
Sergei then told Andrzej about the whole fight, giving lengthy and vivid details of every blow and maneuver he saw Alaric perform. Andrzej listened on, taking in every detail he could about Alaric's sudden and unexpected victory over the Yautja. Mac was silently drinking from his mug and nodding with Sergei, confirming Sergei's recalling and pointing out what he saw from inside the crate wreckage that he used as a sanctuary.
Andrzej's skepticism simultaneously grew and shrunk as he heard Sergei's oration. He had seen Alaric fight on many occasions, and the many 'creative' methods the SAS trooper used. But the things he was hearing, Alaric lifting a heavy metal girder like a baseball bat, crushing armor plating with his elbow and tossing the predator around like trash, was stretching his boundaries.
The captain was half wondering if the lack of oxygen to Sergei's brain was causing him to hallucinate.
"And to top it all off, Alaric nailed the bastard to the central platform with its own wristblades through the shins and then tore both arms off at the elbows." Sergei finished, taking a breath.
Andrzej was taken aback from what he had heard. He knew that Alaric could inflict serious damage in one of his moods, snapping bones like twigs and such, but this was a new one for him. He had never seen Alaric dismember anyone or anything with his bare hands. Pull joints out and break bones definitely, but never anything like this.
"He tore that predator's arms off with his bare hands?" Andrzej asked
"He sure did. You should've heard the yell the bastard made." Mac added.
Andrzej leaned back in his chair in thought.
"Oh, we were wondering what that faint echo was." Andrzej remarked before resuming his questioning. "What happened next?"
"Then, as sudden as it happened, Alaric reverted back to normal." Sergei concluded. "His eyes dimmed, the lines on his skin faded away and his voice went back to normal."
Andrzej leaned forward.
"Just like that?" he asked, snapping his fingers for emphasis.
"My guess is he used up whatever he'd stored up and was drawing on." Mac suggested.
"No doubt he would have finished the bastard off right there but the charges had detonated by then." Sergei revealed. "That diversion had cost them precious time and, deciding that getting his friends back to safety was more important, Alaric relinquished from killing the brute and went to gather them. The veteran let me go to tend to its goon while Mac and I regrouped with Alaric."
"How did you get back?" Andrzej questioned.
"We made our way back to the colony via the most direct, but notoriously agonizing, route. Through the network of fissures." Sergei continued. "We tried questioning Alaric about this but he was being vague. Apparently He didn't even know what had happened to him."
"So, Alaric didn't know what happened to him?" Andrzej queried.
"He said it was like something had... awakened." Mac explained. "He said he heard his... ancestors in his head. But as for the glowing lines, your guess is as good as ours."
Andrzej sat back in his seat, rubbing the scar on his cheek in thought.
"Well, this whole incident is getting somewhat... strange, to be sure." he stated, lowering his hand. "What happened to Alaric though?
Sergei sighed and rubbed his face.
"That ice bridge I recorded on my previous recon runs." Sergei explained, resting himself onto his elbows. "Well, we were crossing it, and trying not to make the whole thing shatter under our feet, when something ruined our trek. Against all logical understanding, one of those hostile Yautja that we thought Alaric had killed showed up, half dead with the amount of damage it sustained."
He tapped his fingers on the table.
"It and Alaric had an exchange of words in the alien tongue. I don't know what they were saying but Alaric was pretty pissed from what I could tell." he resumed. "The hunter then injected himself with something that made him go completely psycho like a rabid dog, and attacked Alaric." he paused, taking another gulp from his mug. "Regrettably, the bridge collapsed during the fighting and, despite trying to help, Alaric fell, taking that bastard with him. We just barely managed to not follow him down."
Andrzej looked to Mac for confirmation on Alaric's fate and only got a silent nod in reply. The captain held a hand to his head and sighed in exasperation.
"Alaric, MIA. Pieprzy, It couldn't have come at a worse time." he sighed, before straightening himself. "Well, I just hope he managed to somehow survive the fall."
Sergei took another gulp from his mug. Peering down, he saw that he had drank the whole mug of his vodka and he dumped it on the table with a loud clatter before getting up and grabbing a coffee jug
"Even if there is a chance he survives a fall like that, he won't know how to get back here." Sergei skeptically pointed out, refilling his mug. "That chasm was bottomless as far as I could tell. He could be falling into the planet's core by now."
"Best not to think about the negatives and just focus on the positives." Mac proposed, taking a swig from his mug before Sergei refilled it. "Even if they are few and far between." he added with dread.
Andrzej rubbed his face. He went over the chances of survival for the remaining colonists and his squad. Even with the initiates to help them, though in their current state it couldn't be much, they had lost Alaric who was hands down their best fighter. So far, no ship, be it human or Yautja had responded to the distress beacon.
His calculations of anyone getting off this ice planet alive were now slim to none. He might was well start making crosses for the squad at this point.
"How are the young hunters taking it?" he asked, lowering his hand.
Sergei got up, walked to the doorway of the hab and looked out to the initiates as they sat around a fire drum and went about getting comfortable for a well needed nap. Kra'vyx, cleaned up and sitting by the drum, was evidently still depressed from Alaric's loss as told from his drooped shoulders and mandibles. Mal'fax and Fel'tak were gingerly rubbing healing salve on their bruised heads from Qul'dan's head clapping. Ly'enta was curled up on a matt with her back facing them, covered with one of their improvised cloaks. Whether she was sleeping or not, he couldn't tell.
"Well, Kra'vyx was really distressed by the whole ordeal." Sergei said, walking back and sitting back down. "The others took it pretty well, more or less."
"I suppose they're hungry after that mess." Mac added, before getting up.
Mac went about getting one of the large pots of stew that were bubbling away on the stoves. He grabbed a tray and put some bowls on before placing the tray on top of the pot and then lifted the pot by its handles. Mac then went out to give the initiates their meal, keeping the tray balanced on top.
"Can't have Alaric's friends getting weak." Mac said, pausing by the table to retrieve his mug and placing in on the tray. "We're going to need them."
Mac walked out of the hab, leaving Sergei and Andrzej at the table. Andrzej rapped his fingers against the table in thought while Sergei was busy making ripples in his mug. It was only when Mac left the hab that Andrzej spoke his mind.
"Alaric's involvement with these hunters is getting suspiciously strange." Andrzej said, making a repetitive rapping with his fingers. "Alaric isn't one to be friendly with anyone he distrusts."
Sergei looked up at his superior.
"What are you insinuating, sir?" he asked.
Andrzej stopped rapping his fingers, tilting his eyes towards the sniper.
"Well... thinking further, regarding the hunter's reactions to his loss. It's like he is now..." he started.
At that point, Hicks came walking into the hab typing into his datapad, his smartgun holstered on his back. Andrezj quickly stopped talking. Hicks' cheerful demeanor was a stark contrast to the dour faces that looked to him.
"Oh, was I interrupting something, captain?" he asked, apologetically before noticing Sergei. "Saitsev, you look like shit."
Andrzej quickly shook his head. Sergei merely shrugged at his comrade's observation.
"No, nothing important." Andrzej said. "What is it, Hicks?"
Hicks, sensing that his superior was hiding something, raised a fist to his mouth and coughed.
"Captain, the storms have subsided and Sven says the relay is now at maximum strength." he reported as he showed his pad to his superior. "Won't be long before we get some assistance." he added with hope.
Andrzej looked at the screen and saw from observation posts on the surface that the storms had ended and there was only a light flurry of snow drifting down from the dark clouds that blotted out the sky.
Andrzej was inwardly relieved that the storms had finally died but this did little to alleviate Alaric's loss. Even though the relay may have a clear signal now, it would take time for potential rescuers to intercept the beacon and come. Time that may not be present if the xenomorphs attacked again in force.
"Captain, this is good news." Hicks pointed out, noting his superior's unchanged demeanor.
"Well, we have serious bad news to counter that." Sergei interjected before Andrzej could answer. "Alaric is MIA."
The news surprised Hicks to a point where he dropped his pad onto the table with a loud thud that made the screen flicker.
"What?" Hicks asked in stunned disbelief, picking up and examining it for any damage. "Are you serious?"
"Exactly as Sergei said." Andrezj verified. "Alaric is MIA."
Hicks thought for a second and made an educated guessed on how Alaric went missing. Taking into account the quickest route back from the refinery. And the most hazardous phase of that journey.
"Ice bridge?" he asked, apprehensively.
"Da." Sergei confirmed.
Hicks hissed through his teeth at the thought of plummeting down a cold, dark abyss.
"Christ, I don't know how he'll get out of that one." Hicks said, walking back out before stopping. "What should I tell the others?" he asked back.
"I'll brief them at a later time." Andrzej stated. "Continue with your duties, Scribe."
Hicks nodded and walked off. Sergei gulped another mouthful of coffee.
"What about Kelso?" he asked, changing the subject. "Has he kicked it, yet?"
Andrzej got up, walked to the doorway and looked to the hab that was used as a makeshift hospital. Dubois was inside tending to the wounded as best she could with what little supplies were left. Sergeant Kelso in question was laying on a cot wrapped in bandages and plastic sheeting to prevent infection from setting in and hooked to a respirator and med-unit. He was still unconscious, having been heavily sedated and his vitals were low but stable.
"Still no change, but we doubt he'll make it through the day." Andrezj stated, walking back. "That explosion at the refinery really screwed him over."
"How bad?" Sergei asked.
"Aside from second degree burns and concussive damage..." Andrzej started, reaching for his cloak.
Andrezj then pulled out a ragged bit of shrapnel from under his cloak. It was roughly six inches in length and twisted into a drill-shaped curl. The fragments of red paint, partially obscured by the dried blood encrusted on it, indicated that it was from the barrels that Kelso had the misfortune to hide beside.
"Dubois managed to remove this, barely, from his back." Andrzej finished, dropping it on the table with a clatter. "It was stopped just short of his abdominal aorta by his armor."
Sergei winced at the thought of having twisted shrapnel removed from his flesh as he drank from his mug.
"Exactly my reaction." Andrzej admitted, pointing to his scar. "Citing previous experience, of course."
Sergei then brought up an issue that had been nagging him during the trek back.
"Did any of those bugs attack the colony before we arrived?" Sergei questioned, lowering his mug. "We're damn lucky that we didn't stumble into any on the way back."
Andrzej straightened his cloak.
"They came but they kept out of range of the sentry guns." he revealed. "No doubt they were testing the perimeter again. They left shortly before you arrived."
Sergei stood up, mug in hand.
"How many did you detect, Captain?" he asked.
"Motion trackers picked up only six, the same ones that pounced us at the refinery." Andrzej answered. "Who knows how many more stragglers are out there? But in any case, that's not good in any sense. We doubled the patrols and surveillance just in case." he then readjusted one of his gloves. "My guess as to why they didn't attack you is that they want everyone in one place."
"If the bugs attack us again in force, we won't last five minutes." Sergei pointed out. "Those hunters aren't even rested after the whole shit-storm at the refinery."
Andrzej brushed off his marksman's negative prediction.
"We've been making preparations to leave in the event that help does arrive or the case of an emergency evacuation." Andrzej revealed, standing up. "We got refinery trucks being modified into personnel carriers with additional armor plating and mining gear for defense.
"Da?" Sergei questioned in his native tongue. "And these trucks will stand up to those bastards."
"Come this way and see for yourself."
Andrzej led Sergei out, the Russian taking a last gulp from his mug before thumping it on the table and picking up his shaska sword and sheathing it.
Andrzej led Sergei to the garages and the sniper could see the preparations for himself.
The trucks in question were medium class half-tracked ore transporters that had been jury rigged into armored personnel carriers. The load basins were being converted into passenger compartments, with protection being more important than comfort, with the addition of improvised sloped armor plating with sliding portholes for various tools serving as point defense weaponry. Smaller trucks were being configured into light attack vehicles with improvised armor and mining flamers mounted on rail mounts on the cabins
In a historical way, they resembled the armored vehicles of the second world war.
Sven, rather comically wearing a large piece of damp cloth around his face to protect his beard, was on top of a truck and busy directing a group of mechanics, welding large snow ploughs to the front of the vehicles before dropping down to help them. Hicks was helping in mounting the mining tools to their mounts from inside the compartments and aiming down the sights.
"Well, that is reassuring." Sergei praised mildly, before looking into one of the hangers and his eyes went wide. "Is that a tank?!" he asked in shock.
The tank in question was a modified tracked heavy class transporter that had been welded top to bottom in heavy sloped armor plating and a large fixed turret on top. Sponson turrets were on the sides, evoking the image of tanks of the first world war. The main eye catcher was the massive, if somewhat improvised cannon that was housed in the turret.
The cannon was a much larger vehicle mounted variant of the boltgun that was used for major excavation work where power prioritizes over precision. This piece of equipment was designed to hurl high explosive bolts and other specialist types of projectiles deep into cliff faces and detonate from the inside. The bolts can easily punch through thirty feet of stone and then level said stone to rubble.
From the look of it, this piece of equipment had been converted into a weapon as the magnetic safety regulators for the rail coils were removed. Now when the cannon goes off, its bolts would punch through anything at maximum velocity, no matter what cover is used. But then again, Sergei could also see that improvised cooling units were attached so that the cannon had a cost to its power.
"Where did you find a cannon that big?" Sergei asked in disbelief, turning to his captain.
"Found it in one of the warehouses at the refinery." Andrzej revealed. "We're lucky that it was in one piece, more or less."
"Does it even work?" Sergei pointed out.
"Do you see us testing it here?" Andrzej questioned. "Besides, it's good for morale to show that we got some serious firepower."
Mac at that point had just arrived on the scene, cradling his mug in his hands.
"Well, the young hunters are fed and resting." he told them before seeing the array of vehicles. "And you guys have been busy since you got back."
"Check out the tank." Sergei pointed out, pointing a finger.
Mac saw it and gave a few choices words in Japanese.
"Better we make and have an escape plan while we have the chance to do so." Andrzej said. "We can't rely on the hunters alone. They may do well against several of those bugs, when working together on a single target, but not a whole swarm."
"I just hope they get some of their strength back." Mac commented. "We're gonna need them."
"Considering how much they eat, they'd better." Sergei pointed out.
Sven finished the plough he was welding and walked up to the makeshift tank, his tools rattling on his belt. He examined the welds, content that his handiwork was up to his standards. He turned around and gestured his comrades to come closer.
"What do you think?" Sven asked, proudly banging the plating with his fist as they approached.
The tank's armor plating was a solid three inches thick, with the addition of being sloped, that should help increase effectiveness against enemy attack.
Andrzej walked up and examined the handiwork of his comms-officer. Sven had the touch of a skilled craftsman when it came to building and repairing things. The Norwegian didn't care much for decoration but rather chose the utilitarian approach. Making something that gets the job done, nothing fancy to it.
"Think they'll hold?" Andrezj questioned.
Sven, rather predictably, just burst out laughing in a loud rowdy manner worthy of a Viking before abruptly stopping. Mechanics looked at him perplexedly before resuming their work.
"Not for long." Sven admitted in a hushed tone. "But should hold long enough in case we have to bail." he then gave another thump on the plating. "Something I hope we don't have to do." he pointed at the tank's cannon. "This baby on the other hand will give those bastards pause for thought." he then reached inside a hatch that was open and pulled out a bolt that was a foot long and two inches wide. "When this fires, these bolts will punch through anything, no matter what armor is between it and the target. Then, BOOM! No more target."
"It is able to fire?" Sergei asked, hoping for a straight answer
Sven rolled his eyes and muttered in his native tongue as he chucked the bolt back inside the tank with a loud clang. It was evident that he had been getting that question since fitting the tank.
"Sergei, Hernandez said that this model was half finished when the bugs attacked and we had to improvise most of the repairs and modifications." Sven cautioned. "I'd rather not wear it out before we need to use it."
"So, we have, potentially, a bomb on our hands." Sergei surmised. "Well, as long as it take a few bugs with it, I won't complain."
Andrzej rapped his fingers as an idea popped into his head.
"Karlson, rig up some mounts for the sentry guns on the lead and rear vehicles." he ordered "We're taking everything of use when we leave and they'll make good as early warning detectors."
"Yes, captain." Sven answered, reaching for his tools.
Sven moved off, shouting the new orders to the mechanics. Hicks stepped out of the transport he was in and went about mounting another bolt-gun, hefting it up on his shoulder and jogging to the next emplacement. Mac stepped up to the captain and discreetly tapped him on the back.
"What about Alaric, Captain?" Mac asked in a hushed tone. "He could make it back, you know."
Andrzej took a breath, remembering his past experiences in fighting alongside Alaric, recalling how stubborn Alaric could be and made his decision.
"We'll hold here as long as we can before we make a move, give him time to get back." he decided. "If Alaric isn't back by then... well, he'll manage. He always does."
Sergei scratched the stubble on his chin.
"Do you still think Alaric will make it back?" Sergei asked. "Even if he has literally fallen into the deepest circle of hell?"
Andrzej merely nodded.
"If there 's something Alaric knows, it's how to adapt, survive and cheat death." Andrzej told him.
Back on Lai'kairis, morning was also abound and the clans of Lai'kairis were going about their morning routines and activities. Hunters were preparing to gather more worthy trophies for their collections. Traders and craftsman were opening their booths and arranging their wares. And children were being ushered off to the caregivers, all the while playing Alaric the Slayer as they went.
In all respects, it was just like any other day on Lai'kairis.
Zel'tyr was walking along the streets to her daughter's home to see how Ja'anya was doing. She knew that Ja'anya was worried almost sick about Alaric and Kra'vyx, Alaric especially. Zel'tyr herself was concerned over Kra'vyx. Her son was one of the few physical reminders of her deceased mate.
Kra'vyx looked much like his father, having the same markings, eyes, and complexion but without the restraint that Kra'vyn possessed. That was also said for his lacking skill at medicine and his knack of getting injured. But, Kra'vyx had his father's heart and that is what mattered most.
Kal'deris had been doing all that he could to figure out what could have happened to Kra'vyx and his friends but so far there was very little to be found. The patrol ships that were sent to investigate had reported last night with no results. They could find no trace of shuttle Alpha. Kal'deris had merely ordered them to double their efforts and keep looking, even though some of his fellow Elders were showing doubts on ever finding them.
Kal'deris, as Ja'anya's and Kra'vyx's guardian and foster father, vowed not to stop until the initiates have been found. Alive or dead.
During her trek to Ja'anya's, Zel'tyr had overheard the latest gossip. The news of the missing initiates had spread throughout Lai'kairis, rather quickly with everyone having their own guess of what might have happened. The families of the missing initiates were coping in their own ways. Mostly venting their frustrations on Kal'deris.
Those who greeted Zel'tyr offered their condolences towards her son, though none was given to Alaric. And there were somewhat harsh whispers that she overheard from bigoted traditionalists who were glad that Alaric was finally gone from Lai'kairis. The Lore Master in particular was open in his glee that Alaric was gone.
Alaric might have been accepted into the clan, but many of the people hadn't accepted him.
A few were even openly saying that they hoped Alaric was dead, and graphically mauled in addition. And some of those declarations came from a few of Alaric's defeated sparring partners, no doubt from the thought of being beaten by a human. One drunken hunter had the audacity to say it right in Zel'tyr's face as she passed a small tavern, with a dash of venom towards her daughter. She then promptly knocked out the inebriated bigot with one well placed, jewelry ornamented punch. In a sober state of mind, everyone knew not to get pushy with the veteran huntress.
Zel'tyr, who originally came from a clan of renowned hunters before settling on Lai'kairis, had little time for fools. Especially less for bigots who insult her family. Kinship was very important to her.
She arrived at her daughter's home shortly after that incident, tidying her rings and her dreadlocks as she walked up to the door. She imagined Ja'anya would be up and about at this time.
"Ja'anya." Zel'tyr called, knocking on the door and calling on the intercom
There was no reply. Zel'tyr waited for a few seconds before trying again.
"Ja'anya?" she called.
There was still no answer. Zel'tyr knocked again but got nothing. She put her head up against the door, listening for her daughter. She waited for a few moments, expecting to hear activity inside and heard nothing. Concerned, she silently opened the door with her key and stepped inside before shutting it.
Zel'tyr looked around for her daughter but she wasn't in the living space or in the kitchen getting her breakfast. It would appear that Ja'anya wasn't around. She must still either be in bed sleeping or had left earlier this morning than usual to go about her daily routine. Thinking the latter and considering the former, Zel'tyr turned back to the door and was about to leave to find her daughter around Lai'kairis when her huntress hearing detected faint sobbing.
And it was coming from Ja'anya's bedroom.
"Ja'anya?" she whispered, concern lacing her voice.
Zel'tyr walked to the bedroom door and slid it open. She saw in the dark after her eyes adjusted that Ja'anya was indeed still in bed. But she wasn't asleep. Zel'tyr saw that Ja'anya was curled up in her bed, her head buried in a pillow and the sobs that were heard were coming from her.
Zel'tyr sighed in sympathy for her daughter.
"Oh, no." she whispered, stepping inside as she shut the door and turned the light on. "Not the nightmare again."
She walked over and sat softly on the bed before reaching over to her daughter and laying a jewelry ornamented hand on her shoulder. Ja'anya shot her head up from the damp pillow in surprise and Zel'tyr saw her sore, tear soaked eyes blinking in the light. That was enough confirmation as Ja'anya looked up at her mother.
"Mother?" she croaked.
"It's alright." Zel'tyr assured comfortingly. "I'm here."
Ja'anya huddled up to her mother and Zel'tyr wrapped her arms around her. Ja'anya sobbed into her mother's shoulder, clasping her so tightly that her talons were digging into her mothers back.
"Shh, it's alright." Zel'tyr comforted, not bothered in the slightest about being clawed.
To Ja'anya, nothing was all right.
"The nightmares." Ja'anya cried.
'It figures', Zel'tyr thought.
"Alaric was in them." Ja'anya continued. "Something has happened to him, I know it!"
Zel'tyr was somewhat surprised from what Ja'anya said. These nightmares only involved Kra'vyn but now Alaric was in them? She concluded what was going on.
"Ja'anya, look at me." she softly ordered.
Ja'anya lifted her head and met her mothers comforting gaze.
"Listen to me." Zel'tyr said, wiping her daughter's tears with her thumbs. "We don't know anything of what might have happened to Alaric. Nightmares are only reflections of fear. They only come if you allow that fear to take a hold of you."
This was one of many lessons that Zel'tyr preached about to initiate hunters.
"I know that, but it felt so real." Ja'anya replied. "I thought... I..."
Zel'tyr stopped, lowering her hands.
"You thought...?" she asked.
Ja'anya gulped before she brought up the climax.
"I was covered in Alaric's blood." Ja'anya wept. "A bad omen!"
Zel'tyr blinked at her daughter's nightmare.
Ja'anya and Alaric, who wouldn't know the significance of it, did indeed share a deep bond to each other. Perhaps deeper than Zel'tyr had first expected.
It is said, according to the priestesses, that those who are bound by fate to become life mates would form a powerful bond to each other, able to sense one and the other. It was a rare occurrence in a society such as the Yautja where polygamy, polyandry and, in some cases, multiple mates of either sex was the norm.
Only the gods could forge such a bond between mortals.
"Are you sure?" Zel'tyr asked.
Ja'anya looked up at her mother and tears started to well in her eyes.
"Yes, I'm certain. I wouldn't be like this if I wasn't!" Ja'anya answered, rubbing her eyes.
'Foreboding', Zel'tyr thought. 'Hmm, the Priestesses could help unveil this.'
She looked to her daughter.
"What was your nightmare about?" she questioned.
Ja'anya was hesitant to recall the nightmare that had plagued her all night. But her mother helped calm her from the nightmares in the past. So this shouldn't be any different.
"Me and Alaric were... together."Ja'anya revealed, keeping her erotic feelings for Alaric to a minimum. "I was in his arms, in his embrace and suddenly he was... devoured by dark shadows, cold as the depths of the dark Void." She slightly shivered from the mere thought of it. "His blood then... I was in a deluge of his blood, screaming."
"Was there anything else?" Zel'tyr queried.
"No, I woke up by that point and I'm glad for it." Ja'anya answered, lowering her head.
'Alaric devoured by cold darkness?' Zel'tyr thought, trying to make sense of it. 'And losing his blood in a deluge? What could it mean?'
Ja'anya then looked up to her mother, a flicker of hope shining in her eyes.
"Did Kal'deris find anything about Alaric and Kra'vyx?" she asked, hope lining her tone. "Did they find anything?"
Zel'tyr shook her head.
"I'm afraid not, my daughter." Zel'tyr answered. "Kal is doing everything he can in the meantime."
Ja'anya's head drooped from the news.
"What if they just..." she said, choking with emotion. "I don't know how... I can't handle both Alaric and Kra'vyx gone!"
Zel'tyr held her close. Ja'anya buried her face again.
"Ja'anya, it will be alright." she repeated. "Alaric, of all the people we know, would not let anything stop him, from getting Kra'vyx and his friends back to Lai'kairis." Zel'tyr assured. "No matter how impossible it may seem. The gods must have a plan set for him." She then gave small sigh of fortune. "When you found him and he saved you from Sil'cais, I felt then, that it was more than just chance that brought you two together."
Zel'tyr then put on a serious tone as she released Ja'anya.
"But, there has been talk among the clan. Some of them are glad that Alaric is gone." she revealed, illustrating the seriousness of what she heard. "I already punished of one such offender, after a rather personal insult about you."
Ja'anya looked back up.
"Such as?" she asked.
Zel'tyr sighed as she recalled what that drunken bigot described her daughter.
"Prey-Whore." she revealed with disgust.
That was a derogatory name, one of many, aimed towards Yautja who had... relationships with humans by race purists. Such relations were few and far between, considering the Yautja's general view towards humans as nothing but prey to be hunted were a factor against such relationships. And to be intimate with one was seen as betrayal to their race.
In some pure race clans, the punishment is death.
Ja'anya, though knowing the severity of the name, wasn't insulted at all. In fact, she was angry.
"I don't care what they call me. Alaric is my friend and lover!" she declared hotly.
She quickly slapped a hand over her mouth as she let slip that little detail. Zel'tyr was taken aback from that little slip of Ja'anya's mind but she quickly rebounded. With a mischievous touch.
"So, you two...?" Zel'tyr questioned with a smirk.
Ja'anya blushed profusely and lowered her head and hand in embarrassment. Her mother, though her exterior indicated otherwise, could be very playful and somewhat 'suggestive' when it suited her. Mostly for poking someone where it really gets them.
"No, we haven't... bonded in that way, yet." she admitted. "I almost let myself get carried away but Alaric convinced me otherwise."
Zel'tyr innocently rolled her eyes.
"Well, it wasn't Season yet was it?" she pointed out before shrugging. "Still, no harm in experimenting before hand."
"Mother!" Ja'anya gasped, somewhat shocked at what her mother was insinuating.
Zel'tyr chuckled at her daughter's reaction, succeeded in getting Ja'anya's focus away from her nightmare, before noticing Ja'anya's neck. The skin around her collarbone was chaffed and dry with skin starting to flake, almost to the point of bleeding. She quickly concluded that Ja'anya had not removed her sheildhawk amulet all night. The bronze and silver bird nestled between her breasts, glinting in the light.
"Your neck is raw, Ja'anya. Almost bleeding." She said, before reaching for the amulet. "You should take this off for a while."
Ja'naya's reaction was not what Zel'tyr was expecting.
"No!" Ja'anya resisted firmly, holding the sheildhawk close to her and shuffling toward the head of the bed abruptly. "I'm not taking it off."
Zel'tyr lowered her hand and tapped the mattress a few times with her talons.
"Ja'anya." she scolded lightly.
Ja'anya looked down at her amulet as she cradled it delicately in her cupped hands.
"Alaric made this for me." she reminded, tracing the hawk's feathers with her fingers. "With his own hands. And if he's gone...this would be all I have of him."
Zel'tyr sighed. Ja'anya may have her father's heart but she had Zel'tyr's stubbornness.
"At least take it off to rub some salve on your neck." Zel'tyr advised.
She then slid off the bed.
"Come on." Zel'tyr said, helping her daughter out of her bed. "Work is the best cure for grief." She sighed. "We should know."
She handed Ja'anya her robe from the wardrobe, who donned it and hissed softly when the fabric rubbed her neck.
"You should go freshen yourself up first." Zel'tyr said.
Ja'anya then walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her while Zel'tyr went about tidying the bed.
Ja'anya walked up to the mirror and took in her reflection.
She saw the dark circles under her sore eyes and idly wondered how much sleep she managed to get. She reckoned that she only had three or four hours at most. She also saw that her mother was right about her neck. She gently rubbed her neck, feeling how rough her skin had become. Any harder and she risked bleeding.
'Look at me,' she thought as she rubbed under her eyes. 'I'm a mess.'
She decided to take a shower to put her mind at ease. She slid off her robe, hanging it on a hook before stepping in. She hissed as the water hit her neck, tweaking the temperature a bit and she then began cleaning herself. Her shieldhawk pendant glittered in the mist filled light as she reached for the soap.
As she carefully lathered her neck, ignoring the burning sensation erupting around her neck, her thoughts returned to Alaric, Sharing the shower with her and lathering her neck. That in turn took her to their final night together. She inwardly smiled at the thought of being in his arms, him nuzzling her neck. And she nuzzling him in return.
And she once again felt a tingle between her legs as she leaned over and rested her arms on the wall, closing her eyes and sighing. The water cascaded down her back and dreadlocks. The sheildhawk pendant was awash in soapy water, causing it to sparkle white and gold in the light.
Ja'anya regretted not consummating her love to Alaric. But his promise to her echoed within her mind.
"We'll make it back, Ja'anya. That's a promise."
Tears once more filled her eyes, masking well with the shower water pouring over her.
Alaric, Ja'anya prayed with all her heart. Please come back to me.