I'm very sorry guys. I'm terribly ashamed to say that I had accidentally put up a chapter in the wrong order. The chapter you may have previously seen was actually the unfinished chapter 10, hence why it was really choppy and the ending made no sense. I'm terribly sorry if this mistake spoils the next chapter for you guys, but I hope you enjoy the real chapter 9. Sorry again. Very sorry. Sorry.
Humans. How he hated them.
All.
Through the special technology of his ship he could see the planet; the surface giving him statistics of the environment, native creatures and alien ones. This planet was known as M'laii to his people, and existed within the territorial claim of the C'thwei clan, but he had fought and earned his right to hunt here, just this once.
He had fought hard, something the others had noticed; a ferocity that went beyond simple want of an excellent hunting spot.
The reason was simple. He had seen that symbol. The strange human sigil that he could not help but associate with long periods of pain, anguish and anger, and of course, that one true shameful moment of fear in his life. He had hunted that symbol ever since then, relentlessly, and with a vigor that would have been called 'revenge' by any other name.
Revenge was against the code of the yautja, he knew this well, which was why, though he knew deep in his heart it's true nature, he merely called it 'sport.' He continued to abide by all the laws of the Path, and not even the high eldresses could find fault in his method of his otherwise shameful desire.
So he was allowed to hunt, and that symbol drew him across the vast reaches of many territories. This one had sprung up on the radar of the C'thwei clan while he was a guest aboard their atoll. The planet had been known to house violent humans, and the clan had hunted it on occasion. But now, the violence had escalated to an entirely new level, and it had the blood in every yautja burning for a hunt.
But none so hot as his when he saw the symbol translated into the yautja's visible spectrum. It covered copious amounts of containers littering the planet, and the violence had broken out from these and spread like wildfire.
He had asked for the right to hunt the planet alone. He took any challenger to his claim, even the leader of the clan, and won. He had left before any females could demand breeding rights for such a display.
Now he observed, as any hunter did.
The environment was tolerably warm and humid, but he would only be able to breathe the air for a little while without his mask. It was suitable for humans. There were many good predators within the jungles of M'laii, but they interested him little. He read what his ship could tell him of the humans, as he idly rubbed at the long straight scar on his chest.
Once he decided that the computer was not giving him the information he had wanted, he decided to do things the old-fashioned way. His ship sliced through the atmosphere easily, and though it burned, it was silent. The humans would pass it off as little more than a fallen meteorite.
He landed the ship far to the south of the settlements where the violence was strongest. His ship and himself cloaked, he hopped out for some reconnaissance to a village further south than where he hid his ship.
He made his way to where many of the boxes lay and scanned for any activity. He rattled softly when no bodies of heat appeared in his visions, or any of the other visions he scanned through. He then cautiously approached one of the boxes, extending a hand and rubbing along its seams. The craftsmanship on the metal container was good, but he would hardly praise it. But it was not looking for artisan skill. He felt the raised bumps under his palm, and looked down at the strange symbol stamped there. A deep loathing growl rose in his chest. The sigil, he was definitely in the right palce.
He retracted his arm and stepped away from the container, pausing to look at the bright image spiraling around his limb imbedded beneath his skin. An image of a Sei'ute'preay, the kainde-amedha hatchling. The image's body covered his shoulder, the eight long thin legs spread across his upper chest and shoulder blade, and its long tail wrapped down around his arm ending at his wrist. It was a reminder, as if he would ever forget, but he swore on the pain of the procedure that he would hunt down as many of those vile humans until his death.
He clenched his hand slowly, but tight enough he could hear the metal mesh strain against the inside of his gauntlet device.
Revenge was against the laws of the Path.
He snapped around and proceeded forward, heading closer to one of the southern settlements. The closer he got, the more boxes he found open, and the more signs of fighting he was able to find. He passed by the bodies of several humans. Inspecting them showed no sign of the sigil he sought, though it was difficult to find without the aid of the much more powerful computer on his ship, who could translate the strange flat human images into something he could see.
Despite the obvious signs of war, he found no discarded weapons. All the bodies were stripped of possessions. It meant that the technology was scarce, so the humans would be holding on to whatever they had. He kept that in mind for use as bait if he could collect some.
The first living humans he encountered appeared to be celebrating. They were hollering loudly, making strange whooping sounds and the males were all but hanging off their females. Intoxication was obvious.
He turned on his recording device with a simple movement of his mandible and recorded some of the language being spoken.
"Yeah! Death to everybody! Whoo!"
He played it back, but garnered none of the meaning. The only word he recognized was 'death.' One of the few human words that many yautja knew.
Skirting around the settlement, using the trees for added concealment in addition to his cloak, he began looking for signs of the humans who belonged to the sigil.
Suddenly, he ducked down in some brush as he heard gunfire, and watched as the rowdy humans began to shoot pointlessly into the sky. He rattled, annoyed at the display, and had his mask run statistics one the weapon.
All other information that the computer gave to him was ignored by the presence of the sigil engraved into the barrel. He had found what he was looking for.
Blinding rage filled him, he felt the heat circle his eyes. A guttural roar burst out of his chest, freezing all the humans to their spot. He de-cloaked in front of the mass, dispatching first one, then the other with his maul before the humans even thought of fighting back.
Dancing across the battlefield as his dreads flared out and smacked his skin; he received no wounds from the hail of ammunition they laid upon him. He dodged back into the trees before turning and firing a blast into their midsts. The resulting blinding explosion scattered them. Their munitions tore into the foliage and through the wood of trees as they foolishly tried to shoot where he was rather than where he was going to be. He laughed to himself as he turned once more to dance in the open, away from the trees, admists the mass of humans.
More and more of them fell to his blade, and he relished in the blood that spilled on his skin. He delighted in it in a way no yautja ever should, but at the moment, he didn't care. The humans were less than skilled; horribly outmatched, and it took him far too short of a time until nearly all of them were dead.
Finally, after mere minutes, he stood before a female, his mask clearly showing a suckling developing in her womb. Oh how he wanted so much just to run his spear through her and the unborn spawn, remove the potential of another sigil member to ruin another yautja. The grip on his maul tightened as his mandibles spread behind his mask.
The human was making soft pleading noises, crawling backwards with a hand held out, palm facing towards him. The gesture was not lost to him. He knew it meant 'stop,' but as she crawled away, he continued to step forward.
His fingers flexed and curled around the handle of his weapon. He lifted the blade, hot with blood, but his arm only made it to a half-way position for a proper thrust to end the creature and her unborn suckling. Something pulled harshly on his very spirit, telling him that what he was about to do was wrong. He growled, rattling furiously. He then lowered his maul. He turned his back immediately to the female and began his work on preparing his kills.
The female was gone by the time he finished collecting the hides and trophies of his kills. The net bag at his waist was already too full to carry any more skulls, even if he had only collected the ones of the warriors he deemed most worthy. Not that he thought that any really were. They humans fought haphazardly, seemingly without training. Not like the ones he had encountered on his other hunts.
He would have to make a trip back to his ship, and then stalk the next settlement.
Back he went through the jungle heading north He felt the cooling of the planet as the sun began to set, and the pang of guilt at what had transpired. But at the same time he felt good, excited for more. He hurried almost carelessly, eager to get back to the bloodshed, when everything was brought to a sobering halt.
His ship was surrounded.
These humans were not like the others, they wore armor, had larger weapons, were wearing something over their eyes and looked all a bit too similar to each other.
He crouched on a tree branch, scanning them as they investigated the area. To his horrid displeasure, it was painfully obvious the humans knew his ship was there, as they were touching and hitting it with devices. He rattled angrily, getting his canon ready. Whether these were humans of the sigil or not, they were a risk and needed to be put down.
That was when one of them looked straight at him. He thought it was impossible, he was cloaked, but the sudden yell to the others of its group and the fire that erupted around him told him otherwise.
Roaring to the challenge he leapt down, landing in front of one of the humans who opened fire into his stomach immediately, and smacking the back of his hand hard enough against its head that it went flying and broke against a tree. He had not felt any pain from the weapon.
Rattling in confusion, he looked down to where the wound should have been, and instead found three long thin cylinders stuck into his skin. He pulled at one, and small barbs kept it in place.
Jerking his head to look at the other humans taking aim at him, he studied the guns more carefully. They weren't built for lethal ammunition; firing off the normal munitions would have destroyed such weak weapons. But what more, the weapons, and even their armor, bore the sigil. This incited his rage. He charged at them, maul once again in hand. It was the cue for the other humans to open fire. More of the darts stung into his flesh but he ignored them, cleaving one human in half, charging down the line.
By the time he made it to the forth human, he began to notice something wasn't right. He felt light-headed, drunk almost. His swing missed the human he was aiming for completely and he steadied himself on his feet as the momentum threatened to take him over to the ground. Turning, he stared and rattled at the humans that were circling around to the other side of him. They had stopped shooting, why? He puzzled it for just a moment, clicking his tusks together, before memories flashed that brought him to one simple conclusion: because they didn't want him dead.
A guttural roar tore out of his throat. A roar that startled the humans who backed two steps away from him. A roar filled with the conviction of a cornered beast. He would not become the human's plaything again, no matter what cost.
He ran.
Into the trees he leapt and bound across the branches, stumbling and slipping, his shoulder smacking into wood he did not register was in his path. He eventually fell out of the trees and was forced to remain on the ground. He could hear them behind, tailing him at a distance, but he would not let them get to him, they would not have him again, even if he had to sacrifice his honor for it.
Turning, he fired his canon once, killing two humans that foolishly kept straight behind him. He needed to find a secure space to wait out whatever drugs they intoxicated him with. The he would start the hunt again, more cautiously now that they were aware of him, and he was aware of what they wanted. But he would kill them all. He would.
And he told himself this, over and over as he began to slow. The trees broke open into an empty space, a dangerous spot. It was now unpleasantly cool, and he was heaving for breath and fighting for consciousness. His steps became labored, but he pushed on. He could not stop out in the open like this, he needed to find a secure area.
His maul fell out of his grasp unnoticed. He stumbled several feet more, then all the strength left his legs. His shoulders heaved, his head fell forward. The haze in his mind thickened and threatened to take over, but he shook it off. He blinked several times, looking up to see how far away he was from the next batch of trees. To his horror, he saw the heat of a human standing in front of him. It stood still, wavering in and out of form as the haze waxed and waned.
He rattled slowly, ashamed, disappointed, but defiant. He flipped open his gauntlet device, inputting sloppily the commands for the detonation. They would not have his body, he would destroy himself honorably, and he was going to take as many humans as he could with him in his suicide.
Huffing slowly turned into gleeful clicking as his arm dropped into his lap. A staccato noise emanated from his throat as the human watched him, standing still. His laughter slipped, along with everything else, into the haze, and the dreadfully cold grass caressed his body as he fell into it, and he swiftly descended into blackness.