Chapter V
Disclaimer:
This story has been written purely for entertainment purposes, and in no way, shape, form, or fashion means to impede, or infringe upon any copyrighted material whatsoever. I do however retain credit and claim responsibility for the creation of names and character statistics of any and all characters within this publication. These characters are based on copyrighted ideas and or characters of the respective owners of said material within the entertainment industry. No money will be attributed to the author of the following publication in any form. Definitions and wording used to describe devices, and other such items are derived from other literary works involving these types of characters. This publication was created for the sole purpose of entertainment and the expansion of a concept formerly copyrighted by an individual or individuals as a group.
Chapter V
"Aaaaaggghhhhhh, ha, ha, ha, ha! I DO…LOVE – THIS - RIDE!" Yelled Specialist Dave Decker, as the seat he was tightly strapped into shook violently. His face was painted with an expression of pure joy, almost wickedly so. Decker enjoyed the rush of adrenaline that these old 'death trap' dropships supplied him. The corner of his mouth was cracked open in an almost hysterical shape revealing an aggressive smile. He was truly in his element.
Others around him had various expressions of sorts plastered to their faces while strapped in similar seats aligned in rows along the two adjacent walls of the landing craft they were in.
Sp. John Parsons saw the current state of affairs through shaky eyes as the view around him bounced and convulsed in front of him in a blurry haze of silhouettes, that only moments before, were his fellow combatants. He still wasn't sure if he liked this part of military operations, but it was something to brag about once back on the ground. It wasn't often that the military used this kind of drop ship anymore, but with the coming war ahead, most of these outdated craft were re-commissioned back into service. At least that's what he tried to convince himself of in regards to the reason he was on this pile of space junk. Or perhaps it was the fact that most of the members of his squad were misfits, and the military viewed them as expendable; not worthy of such luxuries as a craft fitted with the latest technology. Most of the newer craft had been designed with anti atmosphere dampers allowing a craft to slip in and out of atmospheric environments without a trace of turbulence whatsoever, and how he so wished they had use of one right now. Whatever the case though, he was here, and the so-called 'ride,' would be over in minutes.
It seemed that Captain Kevin Andrews found the 'drop,' to be the same as all the others he had ever experienced; extremely boring. His squad members had gotten quite used to having to wake him up after landing planet side, as was usually his request to anyone within earshot, just before strapping in, and being dumped out into the void of space.
It wasn't long before the craft had reached its maximum velocity downward towards the planet's surface, as the rest of the crew aboard seemed to be reaching their maximum tolerance of said excursion. Each of them had their own way of dealing with the 'ride.' Fortunately for most it was short lived due to the high speeds attained by ever increasing gravity as they neared the planet's surface. Nonetheless, everyone uniquely displayed their own feelings concerning this type of drop through various facial expressions and vocal emissions. While one of them used the opportunity to get some well-deserved rest, another relayed nervousness, while others just appeared completely bored. It wasn't until the landing thrusters were activated that the occupants would more or less assert the more relaxed configurations their bodies were accustomed to.
The pilots were then heard over the communications systems each individual wore.
"Touchdown in five seconds…four…" The pilot discontinued the count to concentrate on the intricacies of having to land this bucket of bolts, and just as well, considering it was expected that everyone aboard knew how to finish the countdown for himself.
The craft landed with a clang of metal, a chug of strain on its frame, a hydraulic hiss and a thud from the landing pads contacting the somewhat soft ground.
It wasn't long before the present crew began to disengage the safety devices; it was like a scene at an amusement park when the ride is over on some thrilling roller coaster.
"Ohhhh…I gotta learn ta stop drinkin' tha night before a drop." Said Sp. William "Billy Bob" Roberts, as he wobbled and weaved his way across the flooring between the opposing seats. He was rubbing his forehead with one hand, perhaps trying to squeeze out whatever was making him feel not so well; and the other was unconsciously held outward and away from him for balance and to keep from bumping into anything he could be injured from. Ironically, it was that same hand that would be the cause of his most recent bout with pain. He stumbled a bit as he approached the gear hold on board, and reached out for something to grab onto. It was then that he realized something soft and flesh like was caught within his grasp.
Just as First Lieutenant Morgan Maddison had picked up her gear, she turned to leave when the still inebriated form of Billy Bob, came lunging at her in a stupor and latched on to her breast. This wouldn't have bothered her so much, except that it seemed as though he then had a hard time removing it quickly enough, causing her to respond in a manner he would not soon forget.
It was only as he was able to truly focus on the situation at hand, that he realized what had happened, and was far too slow to respond to the oncoming blow he would receive for his lack of physical aptitude.
Without saying a word, Maddison dropped the gear she had been holding in one hand, fiercely doubled up her fist and released a perfectly aimed shot to Billy Bob's forehead.
It was as he landed on the deck of the craft that everyone within earshot turned to see the commotion. It wasn't uncommon for Billy Bob to be offensive towards someone and regularly get knocked down because of it, especially when he had been drinking. This case was no exception. Most of them just snickered a bit and went about their business.
It was of Maddison's opinion Billy Bob was a likeable guy; he would just say or do some really stupid things every once in a while without thinking about the consequences. In light of it all, and despite the crew's opinion of Billy, she still thought it was appropriate for him to be knocked on his ass. She wouldn't hurt him that bad, he was a tough guy, or at least big enough to handle the fall without taking much damage. Besides, she was the medical specialist of the group, and would make sure that whatever injuries he sustained, would be taken care of promptly.
"Wh…what…what the hell was that for?" He asked, as he was getting up off the floor and again holding his head in pain.
"It was an accident." He continued.
"I know." Replied Maddison.
"Then what'd ya hit me fer?"
"The smile on your face…"
He immediately began to grin even bigger now, remembering full well what she was talking about, and surprised that she had noticed him enjoying his hand on her breast mere moments ago.
It was at that moment that Maddison struck him a second time, even harder, only this time in the jaw and then proceeded to ignore him. She then leaned into the gear hold and grabbed his belongings. It was as she turned around that she forced the gear into his chest as he took hold of the bulk of the load, and looked at her as if awaiting another explanation for the second outburst of violence.
"Learn to handle your alcohol…asshole." She said, as she picked up her fallen gear and proceeded to walk away.
"That's one mean bitch." He muttered to himself, smiling as he spoke of her admiringly.
It was at that point that Sergeant Major Samuel Garvin walked up to him and gripped his shoulder in regular fashion as he usually did when he had something to say. It wasn't often he said anything at all.
"You sure have a way with women don't ya?" Said Garvin, as he released his grip and walked away with a stride that spoke of pure confidence and strength.
"I like to think so." Spoke Billy Bob with a smirk, as he followed Garvin out of the exit hatch and on to the planets surface.
The planet was loaded with a multitude of vegetation. Everything from large trees stretching hundreds of feet into the air, to small shrubs that seemed to move under their own power, as if they were tracking the movements of prey. There was nothing about this planet that appeared normal. It was like every bit of the planet was alive with some version of nature, dangerous by comparison to what they were used to on Earth, or even some of the planets they had colonized.
A red hue was cast across the sky in a way that could only be described as a beautiful painting of landscape done with the wrong colors. In contrast to the brilliance of the atmosphere, there were mountains seen in the background, reaching upward possessing the same grandeur of those found on Earth and its many colonies. It's what covered the mountains in even layers of various shades of green that amazed them. It seemed that there was no limit of how far up the mountainsides that vegetation could grow, and henceforth every inch of the mountains nearly glowed with a faint green luminescence.
Williams, Cantwell, Devi, Wallace, Carter, and Thatcher were the last out of the ship and stared in awe, as did the others already on the surface, at the complexity of the ecosystem and the beauty it exclaimed vibrantly.
Lieutenant Colonel Alan Cantwell spoke up first addressing the issue to his immediate subordinates about the Yautja representatives not being there to greet them on time.
"Do we have the correct landing coordinates?" He asked Maj. Jesse Williams.
"Yes sir, I double checked them myself." He replied.
"Any sign of the Yautja yet, Captain?" He was referring to Capt. Aaron Thatcher, a relatively new member of the team assigned to them for his expertise in alien cultures.
"No sir. But there could have been some confusion as to the translation between our languages." Stated Thatcher.
"I don't think so. If there was a screw up, and we were here at the wrong time, I'm sure these Yautja would have let us know one way or another." Replied the Colonel.
"I'm sure you are correct sir, but I would feel safer if I double checked my self." Said Thatcher.
"Be my guest Captain."
It was at that moment when Capt. Thatcher had requested a copy of the coordinates over the radio, from one of the pilots on the drop ship. Along with the coordinates, he had also asked that he receive the translation data as well.
Lt. Col. Cantwell surveyed the area from his position and determined that he would have his team set camp here until hearing from the Yautja representatives. Before he could belt out the order to do so, his second in command had seen it fit to place his opinion.
"Sir, do you think we should send out a scout party to see if maybe this is a trap, or look for any signs that they may have been here and gone already?"
"That may be a good idea Major. Tell the squad to search the area for any recent activity, and immediately set camp afterwards."
"That may not be a good idea sir…" Replied Capt. Thatcher.
"And why is that?" asked Maj. Williams.
"The Yautja, are not very accepting to strangers, especially strangers that used to be considered prey. They may view our scout party as an aggressive move on our behalf, that wouldn't be good for us on any terms, especially on their home turf."
The Lt. Colonel mulled it over momentarily until deciding that the safety of his troops could very well be at stake since relations with the Yautja were still on shaky ground.
"As much as I would like to trust them, I can't sacrifice the safety of my troops to a mere concept that seems to change merely to suit the needs of any particular species, even one we are presently allied with. But I will take your advice into consideration when deciding how to deploy the scout team. That'll be all Captain."
"Major. I want you to keep the teams small, and close to the camp, no more than half a click in any direction outside of the clearing, stay in radio contact, have them set their bio gear to the ambient temperature of the area, it'll be harder for these Yautja to see us that way, make them report their positions every five minutes in standard clockwise formation from the north, and if they find anything unusual, or find any signs that our Yautja friends have been in the area recently, I want to know about it immediately. Understood?"
"Yes sir." Replied Williams.
"Captain. You will stay with me in case anything is found that requires your expertise."
"Yes sir.' Answered Thatcher.
The two of them would meet up a short time later with Williams in the command center of the dropship. From there they would be able to monitor the situation with every piece of technology that was available to them.
On board the ship, there was a commotion brewing as the Unblooded trained in the Kehrite with Hulij-Thwei, and Pok'de it'ktse. The brutality of these training sessions was beyond what most humans could ever expect, or even consider safe and had continued for the last five weeks since Hulij-Thwei had become their newly appointed Leader. What was worse was that here was a human being that was even more brutal than most Yautja when it came to training the Unblooded. His schedule for them was an almost impossible task of beatings, sparring, physical exercise, and non-stop movement from the time they started to the time they stopped, or passed out, which for Yautja of any age, could be days, even a week if they were well prepared.
It was as Hulij-Thwei watched his trusted friend and second in command, Pok'de it'ktse thrash one of the Unblooded in the Kehrite for being too slow to react, that he was distracted by another Warrior with a message for him from the Elder. He quickly recognized the Yautja as K'tek-de'Sa, the newest Warrior under his command.
K'tek-de'Sa kept his head bowed out of respect for Hulij-Thwei and the position he held.
"Leader. May I speak?"
"Of course." Replied Hulij-Thwei.
"The Elder has sent me to you with a message."
"And what is this message?"
"It is on this info-chip, I do not know the contents." Spoke K'tek-de'Sa as he handed the device over to Hulij-Thwei.
After studying it for a few moments, he was satisfied with the expediency with which K'tek-de'Sa relayed the information to him and gave him further instructions.
"You will no longer bow to me out of servitude, except when formalities of rank are being recognized within the clan. From this day forward you will assist me in the training of the Unblooded and will be afforded the rights of Honored Warrior status. You have earned those rights in the past and will maintain those rights as long as I breathe. It is out of respect for your courage and past accomplishments that I do this."
"I am not deserving of such treatment, Leader." Answered K'tek-de'Sa.
"Your confidence is lacking…but we will remedy that. I know your history, and it is unfortunate that an incident from years ago during a hunt with the Elder is what ended up seating you at the helm of this great ship, which is an honor in and of itself. Although, I feel that much time has passed. I believe that your accomplishments since then have made up for that incident and that you are deserving of retaining your status as an Honored Warrior. In short, I believe you are simply out of practice. Although, I warn you now, do not make me regret my decision!"
"I am honored and grateful that you would afford me such an opportunity Leader."
"I am nothing less than fair. Do not forget that, and NEVER, take advantage of it." Stated Hulij-Thwei sternly.
"Of course Leader."
"Now go and take over for Pok'de it'ktse in the Kehrite. Teach the Unblooded how a true Honored Warrior treats his enemies in combat."
"Yes Leader."
Pok'de it'ktse strode over to where Hulij-Thwei stood and shot an inquisitive glance at his long time friend as to what the interruption was all about.
Their conversation began with Hulij-Thwei questioning the fact that Unblooded of Yautja origin would be trained under observation of the ranks of Oomans that had already been 'Blooded' so to speak, against the Kainde Amedha.
"Perhaps the Council still feels that even the 'Blooded' ooman's are in need of observation of our training methods." Replied Pok'de it'ktse.
"Perhaps, but the way I see it, if any of them have killed Hard Meat, then they have accomplished something, and should not have to be dishonored by spending idle time merely 'observing' the training of those who know nothing of taking a life." Stated Hulij-Thwei.
"While I agree with your opinion, it's what the Council has ordered."
"I'm well aware of that. And speaking of the Council, I have just received word form them that the humans have arrived and are awaiting our presence as we speak. Additionally, they have given me permission to approach the situation in any way I see fit."
Pok'de it'ktse merely clicked one of his mandibles in the most devious manner he could muster, knowing full well that his friend would waste no time with diplomacy in regards to meeting these humans. Rather, he would test them from the very beginning.
"Do you have a plan in mind?" Asked Pok'de it'ktse.
"Don't I always?" Replied Hulij-Thwei.
"Truthfully. NO!"
"Just because I didn't have a map of the Kainde Amedha Hive, and lost my bearings somewhere inside for over a kerev, doesn't mean I didn't have a plan."
"Killing everything in sight is not a plan; it's an act of desperation."
"It's not considered desperation, when I 'planned' to kill everything in sight."
"Did you 'plan' on getting lost once inside the Hive?"
"Well…no." Hulij-Thwei mumbled in quite a low voice.
"Then you can't say you have you have a plan for everything."
There was a short pause before either spoke again. Though, as suddenly as the conversation had ended Hulij-Thwei again revived it with what he thought would be the last word, as he humorously added his fictional opinion.
"I'm beginning to regret naming you my Second in Command." Spoke Hulij-Thwei as he began to walk towards the Unblooded trainees.
"Why? Because you know that having me as a trusted friend means that you will almost never have the last word, or that I am a better Warrior than you, or that…should I go on?"
"No. It's because you annoy me. Now can we continue with the important issues at hand and begin our mission with the humans as well. That is if you consider that enough of a 'plan.'"
"It'll do…for now." Replied Pok'de it'ktse, laughing.
"Just get those Unblooded prepared for the meeting with the humans!" Spoke Hulij-Thwei with a look of exasperated humor.
Without saying a word Pok'de it'ktse turned to face the minions of Yautja under his authority and began belting out orders in the meanest, nastiest voice he could muster as Hulij-Thwei turned around and walked away with a purpose.