MERRY CHRISTMAS ONE AND ALL!
-Falls off the soap box before getting back on-
Here is my Christmas present for you, the next chapter of the story.
in this instalment, Alaric comes across a horrific truth about the ancient xenomorphs, Ja'anya is trying to cope with Alaric and Kra'vyx's disappearances and Kal'deris soon finds that there is more to Alaric than meets the eye.
The inspiration for this chapter came from a deleted, later restored, scene from the original Alien 1979 movie. When Ripley finds Dallas and Brett in a horrific state.
I was intended to get this done sooner and have it beta read but, unfortunately, work had been taking the lead lately. And the fact I've been playing Dark Souls, which is a frickin' sweet game!
I will be posting the beta'ed version at a later time when it's available and please leave a comment on how you like this chapter and what I can improve. Also, if you're going to inquire on when the next chapter is coming, please do it in private messages.
Until then, read away and i'll see you again with the next chapter.
MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!
-falls of the soap box again with the sound of breaking glass-
Update 20/3/2014: beta'ed version uploaded.
Chapter 21- Metamorphosis, Emotions and Genetics
A pain filled rasping moan was heard coming from nearby, filling the junction and possibly the whole temple with the ghostly sound. The sound of a dying man.
This unexpected noise was enough to make Alaric slide to the shadows, into a batch of hive webbing in hushed anticipation. He stayed in the shadows for a few tense seconds, a hand on one of his axes before he cautiously poked his head out and listened. He heard another moan, coming from the same source, coming from the same direction and judging from the volume and echoing, it was coming from the next chamber directly ahead.
Alaric processed what he had just heard in his head, having heard it before in the past on many a mission fighting a xenomorph infestation.
He must be near the egg chamber, where the unfortunate hosts would be interred. And the moans indicated that one poor soul was still alive, waiting for the birth to happen.
Alaric subconsciously reached for the flare gun in his belt. He swiftly cracked it open and the spent shell went pinging out as he reached for a fresh shot, one of only two left, from his pack. He inserted it into the breech and flicked the barrel back up, locking the breech.
The hawk fluttered down to where Alaric was hiding, almost like it was perplexed that Alaric was reluctant to follow. Alaric looked to the hawk and saw it cock its head towards the chamber. It was gesturing him to enter.
"Are you insane?!" Alaric whispered. "I can't go in there!"
The hawk simply repeated gesture as if to assert some authority over him. Alaric however had no intentions on following orders from a metallic hawk.
"If I go in there, I'm gonna get pounced by facehuggers!" he explained. "You're not the one who's gonna get a bug lodged down the throat."
The hawk merely repeated its gesture again, in a manner of saying 'Buck up' and swooped off towards to chamber. Alaric watched it fly to the entrance before hovering there, waiting for him.
"Oh, sod it." Alaric sighed, holstering the flare gun. "How can anything be worse than this?"
Alaric quietly headed over in the direction of the moans. He kept every step as silent as possible as he crept closer and closer, his boots crunching on the snow and webbing. He nearly tripped over them a few times, not seeing several protruding strands reaching out into the air. And they were getting more numerous the closer he crept. In fact, this part of the hive was starting to look more and more like a nightmarish spider's nest.
Christ, how can those bugs move in this stuff? He thought.
The hawk flew up into the chamber before nestling out of sight somewhere. Alaric followed suit, almost tripping over a tendril and losing his balance. Alaric quickly caught an overhanging strand for stability. It gave a small crack as his weight pulled on it. He paused for a few seconds, expecting a xenomorph to pounce at him. When it became apparent that it would not, he sighed softly as he continued on.
Alaric had now sneaked into a vastly high octagonal chamber, completely consumed in hive webbing, with thick tendrils spreading from wall to wall that gave the impression of a spider's lair and it was here that he would find the source of the moans. Alaric looked around to try and pinpoint where the moans were coming from and he soon found it on a central pillar, partially illuminated by a beam of light from above.
It was a miner entombed against the webbed stone, eight feet in the air, his head slumped down and his face out of view. No doubt he is waiting for the inevitable agonizing birth of the xenomorph young. However, there was two vitally important things missing. There were no eggs, opened or closed, or facehuggers, alive or withered husks, anywhere in this chamber or in any other chambers or rooms he ventured through. Not once did Alaric see one when he was trudging through the snow and hive webbing. Not once was he taken by surprise and potentially infected by the alien's spore.
If there were no facehuggers, then how did these particular bugs reproduce?
Getting closer and navigating his way through the obstructing hive tendrils, Alaric saw that this method of reproduction was nothing he had ever seen or thought possible.
The miner's appearance from what Alaric could see through the webbing was something that was disturbing and unnatural. The skin on his face was all discolored into blotches of diseased grey that glistened in the faint light and his features looked all pinched yet bloated. Almost like his skin was ready to rupture. He could also see arterial pulsating tendrils that came from the webbing and appeared to be fused with the miners flesh.
"What the..." Alaric whispered.
The miner at that point noticed that Alaric was in front of him. He lifted his head towards Alaric with the creaking of hardened flesh and cartilage webbing, revealing closed eyes that seemed to be fusing shut.
"Oh my god." Alaric gasped at the sight
"Kill me." the miner rasped weakly in a hoarse whisper.
Alaric got closer to the miner, turning his head around in case this was a trap before resuming his attention.
"Kill me... please." the miner begged again.
Alaric was having difficulty in understanding what the miner was being subjected to. What he saw was nothing like he had ever seen xenomorphs do to their captives. Captives were either used for hosts or, if not suitable to be hosts, livestock.
This was something else.
"What did... they do to you?" Alaric asked.
The miner weakly lifted a free finger, pointing behind Alaric to the opposite wall from where Alaric entered. Alaric turned to that direction and, after following the miner's direction, could see only darkness, save for a distorted shape in front of him. Reaching for a flare, the last in his pack, he held it up and ripped the cap off. When the flare burst into life, he saw a horrific, even demonic sight. Something that made him recoil in horror.
"By my ancestors!" Alaric gasped, stepping back in shock.
It another miner, but only barely. What Alaric saw was an unholy pupae, a combination of xenomorph and human that was made more horrific by the flickering red light that the flare emitted. The body was blackened, enlarged to far beyond normal human size and the skin was turning into what was a thin carapace. Protrusions on the back gave hint of the distinctive dorsal spines. The hands and feet were bearing claws that had ripped through gloves and boots. The face was the most disturbing as it bore a characteristic visage of the xenomorphs in which it had the eyeless face, the former human eyes now dead and vestigial, and the bared teeth twisted into that predatory grin.
"Oh, hell no." he whispered before looking up and around, his hand reaching for one of his hand axes as his eyes widened. "Oh, you gotta be shitting me!"
He was seeing more and more miners, colonists and the occasional marine entombed all around the chamber in varying states, ranging from more or less human to more or less xenomorph. Only the clothing that could be partially seen gave hints towards their identities. He numbered around ten that he could immediately see in this chamber and he saw vastly more hollow husks nearby. A hollow shell of a human opened up like the cocoon of a butterfly down the middle and somehow assimilating into the hive wall seamlessly.
And much to his disgust and anger, he could see smaller husks too. It didn't take much to guess who had previously been occupying those spaces.
One colonist husk that caught his attention was odd in that it looked like it had been torn apart with only a small fraction of it, being both lower legs, right arm and the top of the head still adhered on the wall. Could one of the colonists have broken free or was it disposed of because of rejection?
This is getting more fucked up by the second, Alaric thought.
His eye soon caught notice of a husk that had all but been assimilated into the webbing, only faint outlines and tattered shreds of clothing were left as an indicator. This particular husk looked old, very old. Likely, it was one of the first colonists to be taken like Foreman Hernandez explained.
Alaric crept over to the remains, still anticipating a facehugger to pounce at him at any minute and, after a quick examination, found something on the husk's tattered clothing. He plucked an identification badge from the disintegrating fabric and examined it. It was damaged and degraded by the hive environment but enough was left for Alaric to see the profession of this deceased husk.
Colonial Administrator.
Alaric checked a husk nearby, a marine, and he could definitely see a captain's stripes insignia on a tattered sleeve. Another husk was shown to be what was left of the colony's comms officer. He then remembered what foreman Hernandez had mentioned that all the command staff of the colony were the first to be taken.
Alaric at that point had a grisly thought encroach into his head. And a much more grisly event was about to unfurl.
A sharp cracking of bone and chitin was heard coming several meters to his right. Alaric instinctively dived into a mass of webbing, forcefully extinguishing the flare and casting him in darkness once more. Quickly getting sufficiently camouflaged, he watched something that would push even his bravery to the limit. One of the mutated comatose colonists not far from him was being torn open, from the inside. Large cracks vertically emerged in the middle of the colonist, leeching from top to bottom and widening in sporadic pulses, acidic ichor trickling and hissing through the cracks.
How big is this chestbuster?! Alaric thought with dread as the thought of an anaconda sized infant xenomorph slithered into his mind.
The miner strained to turn his head towards the sound of fracturing chitin. Even though he was completely blind, it appeared he could perfectly see or know what was going to happen.
"From the... cocoon of its old self." he rasped, getting Alaric's attention. "The butterfly emerges."
"What?" Alaric asked.
Then, with an almighty crack, the colonist split in half and a figure tumbled out of the husk in a torrent of steaming ichor, landing on the webbed floor with a loud squelch. Alaric eyes went wide as he hugged the shadows closer. The figure that fell stayed motionless for a few seconds before it started to heave itself up, slime and ichor dripping to the hive floor. Alaric could see that the figure was in fact a xenomorph. However, it looked stunted and misshapen from being inside the host, sporting a more human shape and appearance. But then it underwent a metamorphosis reminiscent of a demonic werewolf.
With a loud rearing roar that sounded human but then morphed into a xenomorph screech, it changed and anything that was once human was no more.
It enlarged itself with loud crunching of chitin and flesh as it writhed and expanded, the lithe figure enlarging with hardened musculature and armored carapace reforming as it grew at an alarming rate. Its head became elongated and expanded into the broad curving shield head. A barbed segmented tail slithered out and swelling to its full size. Its flexing hands sprouted curved claws that glinted in the low light and the dorsal spines on the back grew like thorns on a rose bush.
Alaric's could only watch with eyes that seemed ready to pop out with shock as this bug grew to a full size of twelve feet in a matter of moments. And in a form that looked far more evolved for a fight. It was much larger, more heavily armored with its head amour enlarged and solid like a snowplow, covered in a menagerie of curved bladed spikes and sloping chitin plating. From the look of it, it would be nigh impossible to even dent its armor.
It was the xenomorph's version of a living tank from the gates of hell.
Alaric watched the developing xenomorph dash off impossibly down and out the chamber with thundering paces, still forming its body. No doubt it was going to be part of the next raiding party. Alaric cautiously heaved himself out of the webbing as soon as the xenomorph was a good distance away.
"What... the... fuck?" was all he managed to blurt.
The hawk at that point fluttered down from where it had been hiding and landed on Alaric's shoulder. Alaric hadn't noticed as he was too engrossed with what he had just witnessed.
Alaric looked down the tunnel the xenomorph thundered down, looked at the miner's tortured form, looked to the I.D badge, and looked back at the dripping husk from which the demonic had burst from. The pieces of the puzzle had joined in his mind, as much as he would want to deny it.
"No wonder they knew so much about the colony." Alaric whispered, dropping the late administrator's badge. "They are the colonists!"
The miner retched painfully, gaining Alaric's attention.
"It's inside my head." the miner rasped. "Calling."
Alaric turned back to miner, the hawk shifting on his shoulder
"Calling?" he questioned "What's calling?
The miner strained as his body rippled and pulsated from his internal structure changing. Alaric as his sight adjusted, saw that the grey blotches on the miner's face had spread and hardened into a darker thin carapace that restricted the movement of the miners facial muscles.
"It. The ancient bug." the miner said in a slightly numb tone.
"Primarch?" Alaric clarified.
The miner nodded with the sickly creaking of hardening carapace.
"It knows through us." The miner strained. "Everything it knows... about us, it knows through us... as it takes us."
"The Hive Mind." Alaric surmised. "The Hive Mind learns from those it turns?"
The miner nodded before he retched and coughed painfully, coughing up lumps of blackish blood and what could be bits of his lungs at Alaric's feet. And Alaric swore that some of the lumps were pulsating.
That would explain why the officers were the first to be turned, Alaric theorized. Gained advance knowledge of the colony before they attacked in force. Explains how they knew exactly what to destroy.
"The voices..." the miner strained. "The voices never stop...calling. So many."
He breathed in painfully, likely confirming that he had indeed coughed his lungs up.
"It's hunting you. Wanting vengeance." he rasped.
"Vengeance?" Alaric questioned. "Oh yeah, I did kill a lot of its spawn, since crashing here with the others."
The miner feebly shook his head. As much as hive tendrils would let him at any rate.
"No. Vengeance... older." the miner corrected.
"'Older'?" Alaric asked.
"Vengeance on... the ones who imprisoned it." the miner clarified. "Hunters... Dwarves...and Spartans." he breathed deeply. "The blood that it... says you share."
Bloody hell, Alaric thought. And I thought my family held a grudge.
The miner breathed painfully.
"It... unanticipated your... existence." he added. "Thought... the blood was...all slaughtered on this world." he retched. "It won't stop until you're dead." the miner revealed "It's... fearful of you."
Fearful of me? Alaric thought with question.
"Why?" Alaric asked. "Why is this Primarch afraid of me?"
The miner could only strain and cough painfully again, spewing more chunks. Alaric was clearly starting to get concerned by this. Especially since he could hear more crunching coming from within the colonist's body.
"Please, you... must help me." the miner begged "I can't become... one of them. I can't... hold on... any longer."
Alaric stepped closer, nearly tripping over a tendril.
"Want do you want?" he asked.
The miner then painfully opened his eyes with all his strength with a sickening tear of flesh. Alaric saw that the miner's eye sockets were now occupied by black spheres, void and emotionless. Blackish blood seeped down his cheeks like tears that conveyed the miner's plea.
Alaric was suddenly struck with the memory of a Xeno Extremist patriarch he had killed in the past. When he was thirteen to be exact.
"Mercy... death." the miner begged. "I want the voices... to stop."
Alaric was reluctant to comply with this request. He had never struck an innocent down with his axes in his life and he wouldn't start now. However, though he didn't like doing it, mercy killing was an exception to the rule. And he had done it many times over his career as a marine. To those in the late stage of bearing a xenomorph parasite with no chance or hope of removal.
"There's no way to stop... reverse what they've done to you?" he asked, wanting to be sure of the right action.
The miner shook his head weakly as the tendrils refused to allow his movements.
"You can resist... but eventually all... succumb." he then gestured to the half torn husk on the wall. "He... resisted better. Was...disposed." He retched again, his head slumping down. "We're... already dead... when they caught us."
Alaric at that point had a thought of great importance. If the miner was in fact linked, more accurately chained, to the Hive Mind, than he could possibly know what the xenomorphs were planning.
Any information he could learn from the bugs would be of great help to the others and to aid his own escape from the hive.
"I'll help you. But first, I need something in return." Alaric proposed.
The miner raised his head at Alaric's condition.
"Something?" the miner rasped.
"The voices." Alaric asked. "What are they saying? What are they planning?"
The miner strained as he felt his body writhe again. Almost as if the xenomorph taint coursing within his flesh was resisting to the idea of divulging information.
"I can't..." The miner wheezed. "The voices... My head..."
"Please." Alaric urged. "I have to know what they're up to. Think of the colony and how this information would help."
The miner wheezed as an audible crunch was heard coming from his back. Alaric recoiled from the sudden crack but he had to try to get the miner to comply.
"Do you have family? Alaric asked, hoping to get through. "Family not taken by the bugs?"
The miner looked to him. Alaric took this a sign he was getting through.
"A brother? Sister?" Alaric queried.
The miner coughed up a large blackish and bloody lump. Alaric had a feeling that might have been his appendix or even his spleen. It would seem the process that the miner was undergoing removed non-essential body parts.
"Nephew and... sister-in-law." The miner rasped, before he tilted his head towards the half torn husk. "My brother's."
Alaric now had a hold.
"Think of them." He urged. "You could help protect them, spare them from this... fate. But only if you can tell me what the Primarch is planning."
The miner looked to him, with as much emotion as his void eyes would allow.
"Promise me... that you'll save them?" he asked
"I swear it." Alaric confirmed.
The miner nodded weakly as he tried to focus his tortured head, taking deep pained breaths.
"The voices..." he wheezed. "So many..."
"Concentrate." Alaric pleaded. "What is the Primarch planning?"
The miner strained as he tried to make sense of the voices that were plaguing his mind. Alaric could only guess what mental anguish the miner was going through. Especially as the tendrils that were latched to the miner's face started to pulsate sharply.
"It's... plotting." the miner interpreted. "Biding time. Saying the prey are... walking into a trap. Leaving safety... for a vain hope... of escape."
Alaric processed what the miner told him. And it didn't take him long to put the pieces together.
The colony. Alaric realized. They must be planning to evacuate!
This was bad news. The colony could not possibly hope to survive either the xenomorphs if attacked, or survive the harsh blizzards that covered the planet. They must be that desperate to take their chances for escape.
"I sealed the tunnel to the hive." he pointed out. "The bugs would have to dig themselves out before they could even attack."
The miner shook his head at Alaric's hopeful point.
"A tunnel." the miner corrected. "It knew... you would target the most... obvious route."
Alaric cursed.
"Bastards led us on a goose-chase in that case." he muttered. "Where is it going to go? Where can it possibly go?"
The miner simply raised his head up towards the light. The light showed off the reflecting blackness of his xenomorph eyes as he looked up.
"Up." he revealed.
Alaric quickly understood what the miner meant. The vast shaft that resided above the temple. That was the only feasible way out of the cavern from which the temple was entombed.
"Of course. Stupid question." Alaric muttered.
The miner then retched again with more force
"It's close to escaping..." The miner continued "Intends to use... angels... to escape this planet..."
That was the moment when his spying was terminated in a horrific way.
The miner gave out a loud strained scream from his teeth that echoed throughout the chamber and possibly the whole temple. Alaric stepped back in shock, stumbling over the strand he had previously avoided, crashing into the webbing covered ground as he saw the distinctive dorsal spines erupt with a loud tearing of hardened flesh from the miner's back in a torrent of blackish blood and ichor, spreading out like demented chitinous wings. The miner then gave out an ironic sigh of relief.
"I thought... they would never... come out." the miner rasped.
"Fuck me!" Alaric exclaimed.
The miner retched and strained again in unfathomed pain. Alaric could see the miners teeth elongate and his mouth horrifically twist into the distinctive grin that the xenomorphs possessed with frightening speed. Blackish blood and ichor seeped out of the rupturing skin.
"Fuck me, sideways!" Alaric added, quickly getting to his feet
The miner was now without a doubt on his last legs. It would seem that he had revealed sensitive information and he was being punished for it as the process sped up with horrific and excruciatingly painful results. And the last vestiges of his humanity were quickly being consumed as xenomorph replaced human.
"Hurry... before I lose consciousness..." the miner begged, as his entombed hands grew claws with cracking bones filling the air. "Kill me!"
Alaric swiftly drew his axe, whispering a litany of sanctification.
"Rest now." Alaric whispered.
Alaric plunged his axe dead centre into the miners chest with a sharp slice of transforming flesh and bone. Right into his tortured heart. The miner's head dropped down and he drew his terminal breath before dying seconds later, blackish blood dripping out of his maw of a mouth. Alaric retrieved his axe with a swish of severed flesh.
The transformation was halted, mercifully.
Alaric looked at his axe and saw the miner's blood encrusting the blade. It was slightly fizzing against the metal.
These bugs are like demons, Alaric thought in anger as he cleaned his axe. Rather than use people as hosts, they turn people into xenos. Coldly efficient.
But in the minds of Xeno Extremists, salvation by rebirth.
Alaric took that moment to go over what the miner had divulged.
If it was true what the miner said, and that these bugs could know through each other, then he was in more danger then he realized. They probably knew he was in the hive right now, or even before he entered the temple from the shaft he fell from, maybe tricking him into thinking he could sneak past. This just added another variable into his escape plans
And the miner's warning about their plan to attack the colony was even more urgent. Alaric had no idea when the xenos would launch the assault or when the colony would evacuate. Either could have happened already. And by angels, Alaric figured the miner meant the archangels. If they're overdue, than a rescue force would be sent to investigate and that meant ships. Ships that the Primarch could use to escape.
He had to get out.
He had to get to the others first.
Alaric turned to the hawk on his shoulder. It shifted its feet for a better perch.
"This is why you led me here?" he asked it. "To show the truth behind these bugs?"
The hawk nodded.
"Did those hunters, dwarves and my ancestors know the truth?" Alaric questioned.
The hawk nodded again and Alaric sighed heavily.
God, Alaric thought. I can't imagine what it must be like. Killing something that used to be someone you know.
Alaric looked to the smaller husks, anger slowly rising.
They even take the souls of children, he silently fumed. What form where they twisted into?
His hair twitched, subconsciously responding to his emotions, and the hawk was slightly taken aback from what it saw. In fact, it looked slightly surprised. The hawk fluttered off his shoulder and hovered in front of him as if to get a better look at him with anticipation in its eyes as it darted its head around.
It would appear that it was more confident of what it had thought Alaric to be.
Alaric, as soon he calmed himself, noticed the hawk as it hovered within an inch of his face. Invading his personnel space.
"Getting a bit personal, aren't you?" Alaric said, raising a hand and ushering it from him.
The hawk landed down at his feet and looked up at him as Alaric holstered his axe.
"Now, after all the shit I've seen, migraine inducing visions and corrupted colonists above all, please lead me out of this hive." he sincerely asked. "And no more sight seeing. I've got a literal deadline to meet."
The hawk gave a small call before it flew high up the chamber. It then swooped to the opposite corridor on the other side of the chamber. Alaric dutifully followed, keeping a vigilant lookout for any danger as he trudged his way through obstructing hive tendrils. As much as he would want to barge his way out of this chamber of horror, he wisely chose not to. As such, he could see more and more colonists undergoing the horrific metamorphosis and the withered empty husks of their former selves. And sure enough, much to his reluctance, he did stumble across one lone child undergoing the metamorphosis.
Alaric paused as he saw it. Though it was mostly covered in the hive webbing, he could make out features that set it apart from the others. If you could call oversized claws and spines on a small body as features.
Alaric was reluctant to leave them to their fate. But he vowed that he would put them out of their misery when the time came. Be it when they were fully turned or if he came back to the hive.
He'd put his money on the former.
Alaric reached the end of the chamber and saw the hawk perched on a tendril in the corridor waiting for him. Alaric gave one last look behind him to the multitude of colonists awaiting their unholy rebirth and he shook his head.
"I'll kill this Primarch." he whispered to the unfortunate souls waiting for their fate. "I swear it."
Alaric turned to the hawk.
"Lead the way." he said. "Before danger catches up with us."
The hawk flapped its wings, hovered high above him and then swooped down the tunnel as Alaric followed behind.
But what Alaric didn't know was that danger was already keeping an eye on him as a xenomorph silently emerged from the webbing high above the chamber as he trudged his way down the corridor.
Back on Lai'kairis, Ja'anya was going about her normal routine. She had managed to freshen and steel herself for the day, considering not getting much sleep the night before. Though she still had the dark circles under her eyes.
She was focusing on getting through the day, trying not to think about what could be happening to Alaric and her brother. A myriad of things had been buzzing in her head but her nightmare was the most prominent. Alaric being devoured by cold darkness.
And she would not have if it wasn't brought up during the midday meal.
Ja'anya was sitting at a table with two other medical caste huntresses, and also childhood friends, quietly eating a dish of smoky stew while the huntresses talked about current events such as patient progress to the latest jewelry on display in the markets. Ja'anya still had her shield-hawk pendant around her now soothed neck.
She had spent the morning assisting at the hospital, even checking in on Vyl'kar to see how he was going. And she was surprised at how the giant hunter showed some compassion towards Alaric, the first she had heard anyone give to her friend and, soon to be, lover. She had assumed that it was from his mutual respect for Alaric.
Others she had heard, as her mother had informed, were not so compassionate. And she had kept well away from them so as not to give them another target. She had no intention of hearing what they thought of her.
Her thoughts were brought to the present as the gossip turned to a more, shall we say, saucier topic
"The Season and festival are in a few months." one of the huntresses, pale grey with a pseudo-camouflage pattern, mentioned.
"I know. I can already smell it in the air." the other, forest green with markings that resembled a carpet of leaves, said.
Ja'anya lowered her spoon at the mention. She clicked her mandibles in slight exasperation.
This isn't helping, Ja'anya thought, rubbing her eyes as she remembered her mother bringing it up.
Kari'kalei'lou. That was the name of the festival of fertility. This was the time, the most favorable by far, when most of the Yautja would pair up and continue the species. It was considered to be traditional and good luck to conceive during this time, as it was supposed to be guided by the gods themselves. And it was also an excuse to brag about who's got the best partner, or partners, for the coupling.
"Have you had any takers yet, Quel'lyr?" the first huntress asked.
Quel'lyr tilted her head in thought, letting her dreadlocks sway. She then grinned as she brought up her potential suitor.
"Do you know of a hunter by the name of...Ryl'zant?" she asked, with a hint of pride in her tone.
Her colleague thought for a moment, trying to remember where she had heard the name. Her eyes widened when she remembered.
"Isn't he the one who hunted an entire flock of Razor-Wyrms?" she asked.
"And during a feeding frenzy I'd like to add, Fyr'lyn." Quel'lyr added with smugness.
She sighed in admiration.
"I don't know if he is brave, crazy or both?" she questioned. "But he is so good to look at."
"Don't tell me he's interested?" Fyr'lyn asked, not believing what her friend was insinuating.
Quel'lyr simply giggled in response.
"He is?!" Fyr'lyn concluded with wide eyes.
"When he walked into the hospital that day, I knew he was the one for me." Quel'lyr admitted. "And he even gave me a trophy, one of the wyrms' heads, as a gift."
She reached under the table and brought out a finely made metallic weaved sack. She opened it, reached inside carefully, and showed off her gift. The head was about one foot in length, roughly resembled a draconic cobra complete with a segmented hood that shone in the light.
The Razor-Wyrm is a voracious winged reptilian situated on the stormy world of Anemoi II, named by humans after the ancient Greek gods of the winds for its unpredictable weather patterns. The Wyrms were on average ten to fifteen feet long and resembled a multi-winged serpent. Not unlike those dragons depicted in ancient Chinese mythology. It got it's name on account that it's scales and membranous translucent wings were razor sharp and, given enough velocity, can cleave through a star-ship's hull cleanly.
In a feeding frenzy, a swarm comprising of several dozen wyrms could eviscerate a whole heard of prey into bloody shreds in seconds in a whirlwind of razor sharp passes.
Fyr'lyn was immediately impressed with the specimen. She leaned over for a closer look, brushing a finger along to feel the metallic smoothness of its scales. But, she stroked a little too far on the hood and she quickly brought her finger back with a wince.
"They weren't joking about the name." She said, looking at her finger and seeing a thin rivulet of blood seep forth.
"Ryl'zant had already added these scales to his armor." Quel'lyr told her as she placed the head back into its sack. "And they look stunning the way they shine in the light."
That was when Quel'lyr noticed that Ja'anya wasn't paying attention to her trophy. She was just staring into space almost like she was in a trance.
"Ja'anya, are you all right." Quel'lyr asked
Ja'anya blinked and looked to them.
"Yes." she replied. "I'm fine."
Her friends felt that she was anything but fine. They all noticed that Ja'anya wasn't her usual optimistic self this morning.
"You sure?" Fyr'lyn questioned, wiping her finger on her napkin. "You haven't been yourself this morning."
"Yes, I'm just... worried for my brother." Ja'anya said, brushing off their concern.
"Don't worry." Quel'lyr assured. "More hunters have volunteered this morning to search for him and his friends. They'll be found soon enough."
Ja'anya wasn't so confidant, considering the nightmares she had been having.
"I hope so." Ja'anya said.
Fyr'lyn at point decided to carry on with the topic at hand.
"Anyone of interest to you this Season, Ja'anya?" Fyr'lyn asked.
Ja'anya was silent as she subconsciously reached for her hawk pendant and clasped it.
Ja'anya wasn't going to bluntly reveal the fact that she and Alaric were together. Not directly at any rate. What would they think if they knew?
Would they be supportive or disgusted?
"Well..." she started, thinking of what to say as she fiddled with a stray dreadlock. "No, I haven't had much interest shown."
Her friends looked almost shocked. It wasn't the first time that Ja'anya had said no males had interest in her. Ever since Ja'anya came of age, she said she had no interest shown to her or had given any to the few who have.
"Still?" Quel'lyr asked. "I mean, you have looks that most females would make a pact with demons to get."
"It's the size difference, isn't it?" Fyr'lyn stated. "It's always the size difference."
Quel'lyr jabbed a sharp talon into Fyr'lyn's arm at the mention of Ja'anya's 'disability', provoking a sharp yelp.
Ja'anya sighed at the mention to her height. One of the factors about her size being off-putting was the chance that she would not be able to bear a child to term. Considering the fully grown height of an average Yautja, being between seven to eight feet in size, and her own below average size, pregnancy was a risk not only to her but to the pup as well.
What use was she to a male if she couldn't bear his child?
"No, not that." Ja'anya corrected. "I just... Well, no one has appealed to me."
"How so?" Fyr'lyn asked
"'How so?'" Quel'lyr questioned. "You know Ja'anya. Most males are too 'head-butting' for her."
"Oh yeah." Fyr'lyn remembered before she chuckled. "I remember those two idiots who drank themselves into a stupor trying to impress her."
Ja'anya at that point chose to subtly reveal that it was Alaric she had chosen.
"It's that... Alaric has certain qualities that males of our race lack." Ja'anya said, with a slight tone of apprehension.
Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn were silent.
"Alaric?" Fyr'lyn inquired. "That's your ooman isn't he?"
Ja'anya almost blushed at that observation. An indirect but accurate observation.
"Yes." she answered. "My ooman companion."
"I think it was impressive him being able to defeat Sil'cais." Fyr'lyn said. "I saw the terrified look on the bastard's face at the Arbitrators Hall. It's not often that an ooman defeats a bad blood."
"Or have beaten Vyl'kar, one of our best hunters." Quel'lyr added. "Even if it is a little... unnerving.
She was no doubt referring to when Alaric went into Rage and almost killed Vyl'kar.
"Yes. Alaric is... quite the warrior." Ja'anya said.
"Speaking of which, what qualities does Alaric have that our men don't?"
Ja'anya rested the hand cradling her hawk on the table, thinking about what to say.
Where could she start?
"Well, Alaric had plenty of... experience in fighting our kind." Ja'anya started. "Something which most oomans never survive. So that makes him on par with our own."
She tilted her head in admiration.
"He's more... refined in mind and body." she continued. "He's intelligent and thoughtful. Always thinking ahead or thinking fast when need arises. There are times when he has a solution for everything. And, most of all, he has an... inner fire in his heart that directs him to push on through the most difficult of obstacles and never falter. And that allowed him to survive things that others couldn't."
"With a level of skill that great, I'm curious to know at what age did Alaric make his first kill?" Fyr'lyn asked.
"Oh, that's a good thought." Quel'lyr said in realization. "Tell us Ja'anya, when did Alaric make his first kill?"
Ja'anya remained silent at that question. It wouldn't be wise to reveal that traumatic event from Alaric's past. Especially since Alaric had placed a large amount of his hard-to-earn trust when he told her.
And she wasn't going to betray that trust.
"He made his first kill when he was in his early teens." she told them as convincingly as she could.
She was relieved when they bought it.
"Barely a man and he made a kill?" Quel'lyr said in a mixture of disbelief and skepticism "Well, he must have gotten fortunate at that time."
"He has been training since his was a small pup." Ja'anya clarified. "He wasn't inexperienced at that moment if that's what you're suggesting.
"And what did he kill?" Fyr'lyn asked. "Was it Khainde Amedha?"
Ja'anya rapped her claws as that moment of Alaric's life involved one of the groups she despised with a passion.
"Those fanatical oomans that think the Khainde Amedha are gods." she revealed.
Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn cringed when they heard that. Xeno Extremists were regarded by Yautja as lower than humans as they constantly strive to spread the xenomorphs across the galaxy at the expense of their own race. Killing Xeno Extremists was considered as bringing order to the chaos they try to spread.
But that doesn't mean that hunters didn't relish the chance of hunting the xenomorphs during the infestation that followed.
"Good riddance." Fyr'lyn declared. "Those oomans don't even qualify to being ooman."
"Indeed." Quel'lyr agreed. "They foolishly see themselves as the Khainde Amedha."
Quel'lyr leaned on her elbows, head resting on her intertwined fingers. She was clearly interested as to learn more about Alaric.
"Well... what other things have Alaric done?" she asked with intent.
"Yes, tell us Ja'anya." Fyr'lyn beckoned.
Ja'anya almost smiled as she went about telling them of Alaric's exploits in the Marine Corps, all the missions that Alaric had told her and doing her best to recreate the events as her told them.
Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn listened with interest, especially the tale of when Alaric had beaten a praetorian with his bare hands. When Alaric was fifteen that is, which added an aura of skepticism. And they were impressed when Ja'anya told them of how Alaric single-handedly killed a xenomorph queen by using a marine APC as an impromptu battering ram.
Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn were especially impressed with a tale of Alaric single-handedly wiped out a whole hive of xenomorphs with only his axes.
Ja'anya had also told them about Alaric's encounters with hunters, how each time he had resorted to using a combination of his wits and fighting prowess, using the environment to offset the Yautja's advantage in technology. Alaric preferred using stealth with skill than technology.
Alaric over his time as a marine had tallied up twenty hunter kills, ranging from using his axes to forcing one through a blast furnace and other kills of various methods depending on the location.
Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn cringed when Ja'anya mentioned Alaric had, unintentionally, rammed a hunter into a large spike... butt first. Alaric had intended for a chest impalement but the hunter got up at the last second.
At that point, a hunter came walking up as Ja'anya was just stating on how she came across Alaric. He was all armored up, no doubt he returned from a hunting trip or sparring match, with his mask on his belt. He was holding a large ceramic tankard that no doubt was containing C'ntlip or some other alcoholic beverage.
"Hello ladies." he greeted, interrupting Ja'anya's story.
Ja'anya abruptly stopped talking when the hunter opened his mouth. The hunter saw the annoyed looks on Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn's faces.
"Sorry, did I interrupt something?" he asked, apologetically.
"Yes, you did." Quel'lyr scolded "Ja'anya was just telling us about her last hunt."
The hunter looked down and caught notice of Ja'anya, having missed her before on account of his size.
"Ah, you must be the huntress with that ooman." he surmised. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."
Ja'anya didn't answer. She didn't even look up to the hunter.
"what?" The hunter asked, mildly offended. "I said I was sorry."
"Do you mind?" Fyr'lyn asked with slight annoyance. "Ja'anya's brother is missing along with Alaric, in case you haven't heard the gossip."
"I've heard the ramblings and I apologize in that respect." the hunter said before he plunked himself down on one of the cushions. He then placed his tankard on the table.
"For one thing, I'm glad that ooman is gone." the hunter admitted, "Gives us a chance to regain our pride."
Considering the amount of hunters that Alaric had defeated, Vyl'kar being pulverized and also defeating the notorious bad blood Sil'cais, some hunters had developed a despising and mostly jealous attitude towards Alaric and his abilities.
"I've seen him spar and, frankly, I don't believe it." he continued.
"What's there to believe?" Quel'lyr asked him. "I've seen him spar, Alaric has beaten every single hunter he had come across."
"How, HOW, can a human beat four dozen of us?" the hunter questioned. "I've hunted plenty of oomans and none of them could beat a group of us, or even consecutively defeat multiple hunters." He raised his tankard. "There is something not right about that. It's... unnatural." he said.
"Sounds like you're jealous?" Fyr'lyn guessed in a somewhat teasing way.
Ja'anya inwardly smiled while the hunter was offended by the proposition.
"Jealous?" he said. "Jealous of an ooman? I'm not jealous. I'm insulted."
The then took a swig out of his tankard before placing hard on the table with a loud clank of ceramic.
"And another thing I noticed is that there is usually a large gathering of females whenever he was training." he added, wiping his mouth. "And it mostly has you three there. What do our women see in him?"
"They see in Alaric what others fail to achieve." Ja'anya answered resolutely.
The hunter turned to her.
"Aside from beating our hunters, what else has he achieved? The hunter questioned condescendingly.
Ja'anya wasn't fazed by the hunters tone towards her.
"He had slain Sil'cais the Scourged when the bastard tried to have his way with me." Ja'anya added, with a hint of pride.
The hunter scoffed.
"When he saved you against Sil'cais that was a fluke." he declared. "He got lucky."
Ja'anya was insulted by that comment. Considering that her life was hanging by a thread that day.
She rose to her feet suddenly, sending the cushion she was sitting on a few inches away.
"Lucky?" she said, her tone rising. "Alaric didn't get lucky. He killed that bad blood in a straight up fight. I. Saw. It. Happen!"
The hunter stood up and he easily over towered her. At this point, bystanders were starting to turn their heads towards the commotion.
Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn were now getting concerned at this point. They would have to step in if things got out of hand.
"Where's the proof?" he demanded. "What proof do you have aside from a severed head?"
"Holographic recording recovered from my ship." Ja'anya answered back. "I'm surprised if you haven't bothered to see it."
"Those could have been fabricated. I want hard evidence." he declared, hostility rising in his voice.
He noticed a flicker of light coming from Ja'anya's chest. Ja'anya's shield-hawk pendant had caught the light.
"And what is that?" he said, pointing at her chest.
Ja'anya clasped her pendant defensively.
"That wasn't by any craftsman on Lai'kairis." he pointed out.
He reached over and grabbed the chain around her neck before giving it a solid yank. The chain snapped with a loud tear of metal and the shield hawk was torn from Ja'anya's grip. She hissed through her teeth when the chain slid over her neck.
"A Bird?" the hunter said in disbelief.
"Give me my pendant back." Ja'anya demanded angrily
She reached to get her pendant back but the hunter, taking advantage of Ja'anya's impeded height, kept it high above her reach.
"That's enough." Quel'lyr demanded, getting to her feet.
Fyr'lyn followed suit in support.
"Why would one of us wear ooman made cr..." the hunter started before being physically interrupted.
Ja'anya gave the hunter a fierce swipe across the face with a loud smack that got the attention of those who hadn't already turned their heads. The hunter was momentarily taken aback from the sudden reaction he got from the small huntress. And he quickly pieced her reaction together as thin rivulets of blood seeped from his cheek from Ja'anya's talons.
And he did it in the most blunt way possible.
"You impudent little Prey-whore!" he roared.
That insult was all it took.
Ja'anya, at that point, has had enough. Remembering a maneuver Alaric taught her, she quickly and roughly grabbed the Yautja's head and at the same time hooked a leg around his. With a sharp shove and a yank, she pulled the hunter's legs out from under him, catching him completely by surprise, and slammed his head into the table with a loud thud and crack of broken crockery as he landed face first into her bowl. Her stew aptly served its purpose of scalding the hunter's face.
Before the hunter could recover, Ja'anya was already locking his arms behind his back, using her bodyweight to pin him to the table. Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn along with nearby patrons were taken aback by the sudden outburst.
"You ARE infatuated with that ooman!" the hunter realized.
Ja'anya swiftly grabbed his neck, her talons digging into his flesh as she throttled him. She lowered her head down to his level, growling loudly.
"Get this into your thick head." She snarled, right in his ear. "Alaric is more than you or any other male could ever be!"
She then grabbed his tankard and, with an almighty swing that spoke different to her smaller size, smashed it dead centre in the hunter's face. The sound of breaking ceramic, along with cracking bones, filled the hall again, followed by Ja'anya shoving the dazed, food stained, booze smelling and bleeding hunter to the floor.
Ja'anya recovered her shield-hawk pendant from his now loosened grasp and then promptly made her way out of the hall. She avoided looking at anyone, intent on leaving before anything else happened.
She had already made a scene from her reaction and she had no intention of sticking around to see the consequences.
Her friends watched as she reached the archway to the hall.
"She definitely takes after her mother in that respect." Quel'lyr said, before looking at the hunter who was groggily shifting to his knees.
Fyr'lyn knelt down to the hunter and she had a rather smug look on her face.
"Feeling humiliated?" She innocently asked, provoking a laugh from her friend.
Ja'anya, having left the halls archway and rapidly walked to the botanical gardens, avoiding contact with anyone she passed. Entering the gardens, she walked to a secluded area, behind her favorite tree to be exact and it was at that point she held her face in her hands. She sighed loudly in exasperation as she slumped against the tree and slid down, landing on her rear with a notable thud.
"Why?" she said to herself. "Why is there always something making it worse?!"
She lowered her hands on her lap, her eyes were starting to water from the stress of it all, and breathed slowly to regain her thoughts. She went over what was happening in her head.
It was probably no secret to Lai'kairis now that she had feelings for Alaric from the way she reacted. And, even more so, she and her family would likely be targeted directly now. But, she doubted that anyone would be foolish enough to target her mother. And no one would think of confronting Elder Kal'deris. And with him not having any knowledge of her and Alaric would likely escalate things.
So that just left her.
But she was confidant in the fact that her mother supported her choice.
Ja'anya looked down at her shield-hawk pendant to assess the damage. The chain had been torn from its connections, leaving ragged tears of silver. The hawk's once lustrous shine had been smudged from the hunter's grip, dulling its former glory.
She started to polish it with the edge of her skirt, trying to restore it to its original condition. It wasn't much help as she found it was not making much of a difference.
She sighed as she lowered her hands and looked up to the stars through the transparent hull high above the gardens. And sure enough, she could see in the distance across the void, the moon of the planet that Lai'kairis orbited in its crescent phase.
She breathed deeply.
"Father." she prayed. "If you can hear me, please bring Alaric and Kra'vyx's back safely."
The moon at that point flickered. Whether or not her prayer was heard or the moon caught more of the sun's light, she did not know or care. But it did make her feel more comforted.
Ja'anya hefted herself up and dusted herself before she looked to her pendant. She tied it to her belt, looping the chain around and knotting it securely. She let go and it dangled on her hip.
"Come on, Ja'anya." she assured herself. "Let's go."
She wiped her eyes, steeled herself and she walked away from the tree.
Ja'anya was going to find something that would help get these thoughts out of her head.
Kal'deris had something to find too. A hunch to be exact. He had in fact, with no one even suspecting, ordered a sample of Alaric's blood retrieved from the arena during his initiation duel. Not difficult since Alaric bled a notable amount that day. Ever since Alaric had very nearly killed Vyl'kar in his Rage, Kal'deris had been determined to find out exactly how Alaric had such power within him. And he had a gut feeling that it must be genetic.
Kal'deris had always been suspicious about Alaric and his amazing, if terrifying, abilities since Ja'anya brought him to Lai'kairis. He had hunted humans from most cultures during his hunting years and he had heard tales from veteran hunters when he was a child but none of them could relate to what Alaric could do. The closest comparison he could think of were the Viking berserkers from the dark ages of Europe. He heard tales about Vikings from old hunters when he was a pup, how they would froth at the mouths, gnaw their weapons, and make bestial noises before charging into battle, pain doing nothing to stop their bloody rampages. But those berserkers would simply work themselves into a frenzy, possibly from ingesting psychoactive drugs and more likely large quantities of potent alcohol before the battle.
And, more so than any other, he was wary of Ja'anya's affection towards the Slayer.
Most of the day and the night before, he had been bombarded with questions and demands from the families of the missing initiates. The high priestess in particular was praying fervently to the gods for the safe return of the initiates, her granddaughter Ly'enta especially. Kal'deris had explained, or more truthfully repeated many times that this would take time, withholding the fact that the shuttle had simply disappeared from them.
After being hounded for information for the tenth time that day, Kal'deris entered the Medical Caste's hospital as the guards on duty shielded him from the interrogations, the majestic but simple doors sliding open at his approach.
"I don't know how the other Elders can cope with this position." he questioned himself as the doors shut behind him. "Hy'dorlys, that arrogant fool, is bathing in relief now that Alaric's gone."
Kal'deris as it turned out inherited the title of Elder from his grandfather, his sole family, and mentor. In that respect, you could count that some titles in Yautja culture, depending on the clan, were hereditary. Kal'deris was initiated to the title suddenly when his grandfather literally died laughing while watching a human comedy that was presented to him. While Kal'deris couldn't remember the name, due to it being destroyed after the incident, he did remember it was from the twentieth century and involved an absurd duel involving black pudding and a Scotsman.
He walked past the wards occupied by healers and patients, curtly greeting those who greeted him. He saw that Vyl'kar arms had fully recovered and was undergoing physical therapy to rebuild his muscles. After a short greeting, even surprised with a bit of compassion towards Alaric from the recovering warrior, Kal'deris made his way to the central complex of the hospital and entered the elevator.
He made sure that none of the other Elders, except one, had any notice about this 'unofficial' investigation. If they did then he wouldn't be able to find the answer's he needed with their interference getting in the way. And he was likely putting his own rank on the line.
Nothing of great significance, no matter how mundane it might be, was to happen without the council's consent.
After a minute or two of standing and waiting while listening to a calming tune over the speakers, the doors finally slid open and Kal'deris stepped out into the research wing of the hospital.
He entered the password he was issued with at the doors and the doors slid open with a slight hiss. He walked into a small chamber and the doors slid closed behind him. A heavy mist swirled around him in a torrent, disinfecting him to prevent contamination. He coughed as some of the mist entered his mouth accidentally, trying to remove the stinging antiseptic tang from his tongue. After a few moments, the mist was sucked through vents and the doors slid open, allowing Kal'deris to step through into the research wing.
Kal'deris looked around all the delicate instruments and equipment, looking for his contact. This place would normally be full of the many healers and doctors of the clan who would search for new cures and perfect techniques to save lives but for now it was unmanned. Kal'deris had made it so on the basis of an inspection. He had arranged that only one other person would be here.
He soon found who he was looking for.
"Have you finished the tests, Sy'arwyn?" he called out, walking towards his contact.
The head of the medical caste, an intelligent-looking and attractive female elder whose long flowing dreadlocks were banded into one long ponytail and with snow white skin and light grey spots, not unlike those belonging to a snow leopard, was engrossed with a microscope.
Such a pattern as hers was rare among the Yautja. An old saying was that those born with white skin were destined to be of great significance. Other clans saw it as a freak of nature that must be removed from the gene pool. A more common explanation was due to a rare pigment mutation developed from Yautja who originated from snowy climates to blend into their surroundings.
At any rate, Sy'arwen never cared about such things as she says variety helps to prevent genetic stagnation.
Sy'arwen was constantly swapping two data slides in and out of the microscope, seemingly comparing the two. It looked like she hadn't noticed that her name was being called. Kal'deris walked up to her and gave her a light tap on the shoulder with a talon.
"Greetings, Elder Kal'deris." she said, not taking her eyes off the scope. "What can I do for you on this fine day?"
Kal'deris straightened his crimson cloak and he leaned nonchalantly on the bench. Sy'arwen immediately ushered him off the bench, much to his annoyance.
"I just popped over to see if the tests on that blood I sent you came through." he explained, shifting his feet and leaning closer to her shoulder. "From the way you are looking in that microscope, you found something interesting about it, I hope?" he asked.
Sy'arwen took her eyes off the scope and turned to him. Her eyes were a vibrant reflecting shade of aqua blue, that eliminated any indication of albinism, and there was a mixture of uncertainty and confusion in her eyes. She seemed somewhat puzzled, and possibly disturbed, from what she was examining.
"I have." she answered. "But there are a few things that... puzzle me."
Kal'deris straightened up at her response.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Sy'arwen swiveled her chair around to face him, her flowing white and crimson lined robes twisting in the air that showed off much of her healthy, toned and, to many a male, appealing jewelry ornamented physique. It wouldn't be a good image if the medical caste were comprised of the unfit. And she had caught the eyes of many a hunter in the past. Around her neck was a glyph pendant that represented a tree, the symbol of the Mother Goddess of creation and life.
The Mother Goddess and her divine mate, The All Father of nature, were the two principal gods of the Yautja pantheon. Under them was Paya, the warrior god. Garauck, god of fire and smithing. Myr'sari, goddess of air and dreams. Kor'dyn, god of earth and animals. Ae'nyrie, goddess of water and time. And last but certainly not least, Cetanu the black warrior, god of death and harvester of souls.
"Well, I'm highly qualified when it comes to ooman physiology. Goes with hunting them, obviously." She started, shifting in her seat. "But from what I make of these results, Alaric is far superior to any ooman."
Kal'deris sighed, as she stated the blatantly obvious.
"I think his clan rites proved that." Kal'deris stated. "He'd basically beaten Vyl'kar to a pulp."
"Yes, but take a look at these." Sy'arwen pointed out. "I didn't mean superior in the normal sense."
She slid off the chair, her robes swaying behind her and Kal'deris sat down before swiveling into place. He then put his head down and looked down the microscope.
"What am I looking at?" he asked. "Looks like ooman blood cells. Perfectly mundane. And why are these puzzling to you?"
Sy'arwen removed the slide, which contained a small volume of red blood as he looked up. She showed it to Kal'deris.
"This is a blood sample from an average run-of-the-mill ooman, as the ooman saying goes, aptly acquired during my last research hunt." She explained, before switching data slides and showing Kal'deris the second one, also containing human blood. "And this is some of the blood from Alaric that you sent me."
She slid it into the microscope's slot and gestured to Kal'deris to look into the scope again. He did, later lifting his head after a few seconds before rubbing his eyes and looking again.
"Notice anything different?" Sy'arwen asked.
Kal'deris could see the definite difference in Alaric's blood. Whereas the base sample was normal, Alaric's was showing a far more heavy concentration of cells of all kinds but they weren't all normal sized. They appeared to be slightly smaller but not by much, like the cells were going for more efficiency through numbers and were much more active than the base sample.
Alaric's blood was far more concentrated.
"What is this?" he asked, confusion in his voice.
"I asked myself the same question and I still have no clue." Sy'arwen explained. "From what I could tell, his blood is far more potent than any I've ever seen. It can carry more oxygen and nutrients to his cells and remove waste far more effectively. It could possibly explain why he never tires too easily."
Kal'deris looked up at her.
"You sure these are correct? No contamination between samples?" he asked. "I know that some oomans who live at high altitudes have more concentrated blood to deal with the lower air quality." he thought for a second, trying to remember. "What's the name... Ghur'kahs I think they're called. From a region called... Nepal".
Sy'arwen shook her head.
"I was able to separately repeat these tests four times with the blood sample you sent me and they all tell the same thing." Sy'arwen clarified. "Besides, Alaric has no ancestry relating to them. I checked."
She then tapped a button on the bench top and a holographic display projected in front of them. It showed a projection of both samples' DNA structure and Alaric's was strikingly different then a base line sample.
His DNA had more refined, or evolved features then the baseline sample. And some sequences didn't look normal for a human.
"Well...that's strange." Kal'deris said, prompting him to scratch his head in thought.
"I have never seen anything like this in all my years." Sy'arwen said, walking up to the projector. "There are indeed Spartan genes within him on his ancestor's maternal side, that much is known." she explained, pointing a finger at the relevant strands. "But there are elements of his genetic structure on his ancestor's paternal side that I have never seen before."
"What?" Kal'deris questioned with puzzlement "Every clan knows that Lai'kairis' Medical Caste has a complete, or as close to complete, genealogical library on every major race in this galaxy, living or extinct."
"But these have never been encountered before. There is no documentation on these genes, anywhere." Sy'arwen stated, emphasizing the last word strongly. "I checked thoroughly, Kal'deris. Thoroughly."
Sy'arwen then punched some more keys and a biological readout simulation of Alaric was shown, detailing his inner workings as based on his DNA. She then pointed at the varying bodily systems. She started with his muscular system.
"His muscular system is capable of greater strength, even surpassing that of the Yautja, given the right conditions." she described before indicating Alaric's nervous system "His reflexes and motor control responses are faster then any ooman. And his mind is like a well of knowledge, absorbing everything he learns and even with perfect memory recall. Might even be like the genetic memory of the Khainde Amedha."
This was starting to delve into the realm of fantasy. Or if you could call it in this era, science fiction.
"And that's not all." Sy'arwen added. "Some of these genes appear to be, well, dormant."
"Dormant?" Kal'deris questioned. "What do you mean 'dormant'?
"These are inactive for some reason. Biologically, this shouldn't even be possible." Sy'arwen explained. "I mean, your genes are fully active by the time you reach adulthood. But these look like they're waiting some sort of... trigger, I guess.
Kal'deris immediately thought of whenever Alaric went into a Rage scenario. Could that be these genes becoming active?
"Look at this." Sy'arwen said, pointing at the holo-projecter. "His immune system is something to behold."
She tapped some more buttons and the projection switched to a recorded timing of Alaric's blood cells. Both red and white cells just floated around peacefully until a bunch of viral particles came sweeping into view. Instantly, the white cells swarmed and engulfed the viral cells before they even had a chance to have their way.
"By the gods, that is fast!" Kal'deris exclaimed.
"I subjected it to the deadly viral strain of influenza that ravaged Lai'kairis and that Kra..." she stopped, almost mentioning Kal'deris' deceased friend and her greatest pupil. "Needless to say, his white cells eradicated the virus before it could even spread." Sy'arwen concluded sharply. "His cells even regenerate at an alarming rate."
"Sy'arwen, it's all right." Kal'deris assured her. "It's been many cycles since then."
Kal'deris knew that his old friend had been sent on that mission by Sy'arwen to find the cure for the plague. The same mission that cost him his life, which she so desperately tried to save. Sy'arwen had since felt a profoundly personal amount of guilt for sending him but he was the only one with the knowledge, expertise, and daring to find that particular sap. Zel'tyr, in her grief, wouldn't be in the same room with her for months.
Sy'arwen took a breath and sighed.
"Have a look at these." she resumed.
Sy'arwen showed recordings of Alaric's duel with Vyl'kar, when Alaric was in Rage, and his blood cells during a trauma test. In both films, with the view focused on Alaric's injuries, Alaric was healing his wounds at a fast rate and the cells in a CGI simulation were reforming at an unprecedented rate. In seconds, the wounds had sealed over and the cells looked like they never had any damage at all.
"See, no scarring whatsoever." she continued. "Unless the wound is too grievous of course."
"Disturbing" Kal'deris said in astonishment.
"Now, don't get me wrong." Sy'arwen pointed out. "A mortal enough wound, in the right place, would be lethal and, if a disease is virulent enough, he may get ill, but it would be a much greater risk to us then it is to him."
Kal'deris tried to put all this information into a logical explanation. Alaric was able to regenerate his cells at an unprecedented rate?
"You think this might be natural selection at work?" he asked. "Alaric often said his line were all warriors. So it is logical to assume that constant exposure to hostile conditions would have an effect on his bloodline."
Sy'arwen cupped her chin in thought. She had taken that possibility into account.
"It's possible but it takes thousands of years to get to such a level." Sy'arwen postulated. "Most species that possess such traits have millions of years behind them."
She then revealed a datapad that she had requisitioned from the archives and tapped a button with her thumb. A projection, detailing a timeline of human history appeared. It panned from the time of the ancient Greeks to the present day, from before the Mycenaean era, through the undocumented dark ages before the Archaic period, through to the Hellenic period to the end of the ancient world, over three thousand years ago.
"Spanning from ancient ooman times, Alaric's ancestors, and spanning to the present day, I just don't see traits like these possible in that short time." Sy'arwen stated. "It would have to take tens of millennia, and thousands of successive generations, not to mention a use of selective breeding and eugenics, which Spartans have been known for, to even theoretically get to that level."
She placed the datapad down and then shrugged in defeat.
"This is just... beyond me." Sy'arwen admitted in defeat. "That's all I have to say."
"You're the head medical authority of Lai'kairis, and you have no idea?" Kal'deris asked.
Sy'arwen pointed to the large pile of medical texts and datapads, measuring a meter in height and stacked somewhat haphazardly, on the desk in her office. Most of them were half opened and some looked like they had been thumbed through repeatedly.
Kal'deris even saw a large holographic display on the wall and in it an image of Alaric, taken from when he walked into the arena in full war paint, in the centre. All manner of notes, theories, and texts were arrayed around, trying to make sense of Alaric.
"I have been through every medical tome and journal that I could think of regarding oomans and their biology, even every crackpot theory from half-mad doctors and I have nothing that explains this." she said. "As far as I'm concerned, this is a new step into the field of evolutionary genetics."
She retrieved the data slide with Alaric's blood from the microscope and held it in her fingers.
"I would be able to make out more if I had a larger sample but even this small amount of his blood is disturbing to say the least." She added, before placing it down on the bench-top
Kal'deris walked up to the image of Alaric on the wall. He looked at all the notes that were arranged around the image.
Alaric is proving to be more of a mystery then I first realized, he thought.
He turned back to Sy'arwen.
"Well, can you conclude anything?" he asked, relating to the original question he wanted answered.
Sy'arwen simply sat back on the stool and shrugged.
"Whatever Alaric is, he isn't exactly ooman." Sy'arwen concluded.
Editor's note:
Kari'kalei'lou- (The festival of Fertility) is is the brainchild of Madam-Sparkz on Deviantart . Be sure to check out her page as she is a very talented artist and... She has done a scene from Slayer's Vengeance of Alaric and Ja'anya before Alaric set out on his initiation hunt. Check it out.