The smell of herbs being macerate filled the air. Larjar was quite particular about certain things, manipulating drugs and other medicinal items among them. His goal was to achieve optimal results, meaning the Medic would oversee or even perform every step of the production of those products. Even something as common as salve.
A jerk? Yes. A methodic laidback jerk.
Lar'jar, like most yautjas who got past their first couple hundred years, had an ingrained need to check all equipment (weapons, tools, devices, everything). There were many variables during huntings out of their control, suffice to say that reducing to a minimum the chances of your equipment failing you during a life-death situation was not smart, it was common sense.
So no one would bait an eye when that need for control would bleed into other areas. It was not paranoia, it was the byproduct of good survival instincts.
The interrogation of the bad blood was extended for another 4 hours, before the next pause.
Lar'jar had purposefully avoided the event. Other Yautja were welcome to watch as long as they didn't interfere.
When the enforcers walked out, the dark Medic looked inside the chamber, quickly evaluating the disgraced Yautja, and approached Setg'n'kah.
"Would you like me to run a check up on him before you continue?"
"It's only a 30 minutes pause".
"One would say it would be wise extend it, if you plan to have him conscious for another two hours".
The enforcer looked back, over his shoulder. The Bad Blood was laying in a puddle of his own blood. And Setg'n'kah was mostly responsible for that.
He took a long breath. Extending anything that felt like courtesy to that vermin was not in his plans, but Setg'n'kah was a reasonable male.
XXX
Lar'jar simply knew Setg'n'kah would not leave the side of the Bad Blood scum. This was his prey, and if there was something that Yautjas could simply not avoid was to watch over their trophies (this one was just being allowed to brief for a bit longer).
The Medic was patient. He requested the rest to get the fuck out, so he could work in peace, but the enforcer stayed. Eyes glued on the crippled Yautja, probably already planning how he would mount that skull on his trophy wall.
"Where is the female, Setg'n'kah?"
That question came out so of left field, that Setg'n'kah first reaction was frowning.
"You mean the ooman?"
"It's the only female aboard this ship. Yes, the ooman", he answered in his usual calm tone, sans snark.
(The mercenary and Sila were back to Ah'kaedh's vessel).
"Working", he answers, trying to be noncommittal.
"That's good to hear. It's my particular opinion that the ooman is quite the skilled specimen, if you compare her to others of her race".
Lar'jar keep working on the patient, now hooking a catheter to pump fluids into his veins.
"She did a good job with this piece of shit", still non committal.
"Oh, so you only requested her assistance on medical matters?", Lar'jar, the jerk, could also be a snake.
He sounded, oh, so innocent. But Setg'n'kah knew better. He had walked right into the Medic's trap.
"I believe that by being responsible for her, she should work where her work would be of more help".
"I agree. As long you took responsibility for her, as per our agreement".
"I will have you know Medic; question my honor again, and I will have your head".
"You are welcome to try, if and when I do so. But since I'm back, I want to know where my female ooman assistant is. Now".
How can he be so calm?, the enforcer mused. Lar'jar could be calculating, and his calm demeanor would usually trick most Yautjas into believing the Medic was inoffensive.
"Working", Setg'n'kah reiterated. He tapped his wrist gauntlet computer, sending a communication request to Lance, and tethered the device to the med-bay communication pane.
"If she doesn't ping back in two hours, the next window will be in six hours, starting now. And after that 12 hours. The ooman is quite responsive, and she should not be sleeping now".
"Is she back at the oomans' colony?", the Medic stopped what he was doing, crossing his arms. He left arm already fully healed.
"Yes. Fully equipped by me, using one of my auxiliary ships", the enforcer informed.
I cannot accuse him of neglect, Lar'jar concluded, ruefully.
"Are you telling me you gave a biomask to prey?", it was worth the shot.
"Yes, Lar'jar, prey. I wish she was not under your guard and Ah'kaedh's, Lar'jar. What a fantastic piece her skull would be mounted on my trophy's wall".
XXX
"Lance speaking", Lar'jar could see the projection of her figure floating over the communication panel.
"Setg'n'kah? Do you copy?", she checked after a moment. Lar'jar had disabled the video transmission on his side.
"I knew you would be a problem from day one. But how much of a problem? I had absolutely no idea"
"Identify yourself", came the order, from the other side. Her face was now scrunched.
(Her face already had a grave frown, to begin with).
"And now I know why Ah'kaedh is losing his goddamn mind", Lar'jar snarled. He was not pissed at her attitude. But boy, oh boy, how would he avoid his brother's blow up?
(This whole shitshow had started because he wanted to help his brother, and now… now he could see Ah'kaedh reaction. He would probably go after Setg'n'kah skull before his souls came back into his body).
"Lar'jar?"
"What are you even doing there?", still frustrated.
The Medic observed as her hologram seemed to lean on a wall? Lar'jar could only see her face, neck and part of her chest, but on the other side of that call, Lance had just slid to the floor. Her expression… What was that? Relief? Despair? Maybe both.
"Thank God…" she mumbled, her poise crumbling.
"Lance, what is going on?", he pushed his irritation to the side.
"I was dreading my next communication with Setg'n'kah. I…", she hesitated. "Why the Bad Bloods had such a large vessel?".
What?
"Now is not time for your curiosity, female", he chided.
"Lar'jar, it's not a curiosity. Just… answer my question. Please", she begged.
"I don't know".
"Was that their original vessel? I mean, when he was declared a criminal, that's the ship he used to, I don't know, flee or hide away?"
Larjar could not know why those questions were so important right now.
As for Lance…the Girl was trying to make sense of what would probably result in a disaster of planetary proportions.
"Not likely. Will you answer me now?".
"Right. I think they set an ambush".
The Medic took pity on her. The ooman was not well acquainted with their people. That Rotgar would not simply sit idle and wait for his demise, that was quite obvious. For any Yautja on that assignment.
"Lance, they had months to…"
"You don't understand!", she shouted, strangled voice, now hiding her face with both hands.
And crying.
XXX
The sliding door gave way to the dark Medic, who stalked inside like a famished jungle cat that had just spotted dinner, accompanied by Ho'kan.
(Who was mostly clueless).
Ah'kaedh's only reaction was a frown.
"We are not done, medic", Kivar growled.
"Do you know when was the last time they communicated with Rot'gar?", Lar'jar ignored Kivar completely, looking (and directing the question) at his younger brother.
Ah'kaedh placed his prosthetic hand over the Bad Blood's arm stub, and pressed. Metallic fingers digging their way in. The disgraced Yautja roared in pain.
"Answer", the younger sibling ordered.
"Now you need your brother assistance to do your job?", Kivar hissed. Ah'kaedh's simply growled a warning.
And buried his fingers in the tender flesh a little further.
"One… one day before… we… my capture. One day before my capture", the Yautja moaned.
Ah'kaedh simply nodded in his brother's direction. He knew his brother surely had an excellent reason for what he was doing.
"You relayed the mudslide incident", it was not a question. "Now, why don't you tell them about your plans to ambushing another vessel?"
"You take us for children? It's quite obvious they would try it", Kivar was growing irritated by the second.
"You were supposed to depart and go back for Rot'gar. Isn't that right, scum? You are still loyal".
Ah'kaedh frown deepened. But something clicked for Setg'n'kah. "What news do you have?"
"News?", Ah'kaedh parroted, cocking his head.
Oh, Larjar had news. Bad, very bad news.
XXX
"You did good, Ho'kan", Lar'jar complimented, quietly, while mending the Kid's face. The Medic had yet to fix his own chest, since four gashes now adorned his skin there, but Lar'jar always took care of others first.
"I know. Is Lance really alright?"
Lar'jar sighed.
"This is going to hurt", and which a nasty crack, the medic reset Ho'kan's right lower mandible.
The kid vented his pain with a heartfelt roar.
"She's alright, yes. Though little thing", Lar'jar conceded.
"Ah'kaedh?"
"Are you really worried with that idiot? He almost clawed your face off".
"That's nothing", the Kid shrugged. "I mean, I understand, I got in his way. Besides, I want to skin Setg'n'kah alive too".
Once Ah'kaedh realized why Lance had not come to greet him, why she was busy that morning… The Enforcer was seized by some blinding fury and it took both Ho'kan and Lar'jar to hold him back.
"You really took a liking to that ooman, uhn?"
"Not like Ah'kaedh!" The Kid was quick to point. Like, ew! Prey!
"My brother's preferences are quite peculiar", Lar'jar couldn't understand the appeal as well. But to each their own.
"I guess… I'm grateful. I mean, she is not bad…", Ho'kan never really thought about any of that. The best thing about the ooman is that being around her was uncomplicated.
And now, now that Ho'kan could lose the friendship, the one didn't even realize he had in the first place, something felt wrong. Yeah, it felt quite wrong.
XXX
Ah'kaedh sat alone in the commanding deck at Kivar's ship. The 3 ships were now moving, headed to the ooman's colony.
They had at least another 35 hours traveling. Thedus was not far from the planet the Bad Bloods had landed (not far for Yautja technology anyway).
He now had access to the channel Lance was using. A new communication request was sent, but she had not responded yet.
The enforcer had reviewed all footage of Lance's communications at least twice. Worry still clouded his judgment, but part of him swelled with something akin to pride.
Ah'kaedh didn't know that Girl. He was aware of her existence, had seen some of her work, but he mostly thought about his tiny Pest as the diligent caretaker. This stranger, the Black Ops Agent, was still unknown to him.
Riddled with anxiety, the Enforcer checked again the status on her channel. He was somewhat dreading the moment they spoke again.
The Enforcer had an introverted personality, and barely felt the need to talk around her. More than that, he actually enjoyed the way she could read his moods and stances, just the way she did during his imprisonment. Sometimes Ah'kaedh would choose silence just to observe that phenomenon.
Not unlike when he purposefully moved in bed, just to watch Lance snuggle back to him. Even in her sleep.
A light blipped on the main screen.
"Velk'n, what's the matter?"
The image of the Yautja appeared in the now active screen.
"I finalized the analysis over the data sent by the ooman".
"Go ahead".
"I'm scheduling a meeting. Everyone should be looped in".
The dark Yautja nodded. This can't be good…
It wasn't.
XXX
The military base at Thedus lodged approximately 6,000 families.
Lance observed the small community from a distance. Kids, pets, spouses - by the end of the afternoon, those streets were bursting with activity.
Oh God, forgive me…
Lance was used to make difficult decisions. Hell, she had helped plan and execute the raid that destroyed Seizei's facility, emporishing an entire colony in the process.
But this felt different. Way different.
And the Girl prayed to never find herself in that situation again.
XXX
Ho'kan was positive that the room's air, as heavy as it was, could be cut with a blunt knife.
"Rot'gar can't be…", Kivar's voice faltered.
Rot'gar had once belonged to the same clan as Kivar (and Ho'kan). More than that, they had grown up together in the same compound. Not friends, but still…
"Insane?", Velk'n growled. Insane didn't even start to describe how Velk'n actually felt. What he really thought.
"His is not a bad plan. Ruthless, but not bad. After what we found on his ship, I would not expect him to have any care for ooman lives, no matter how many. He had months to plan and work. Rot'gar knew once you were finished with his former crew, we would be hunting for him next. He lost the surprise element, though".
It was not a matter of if, but when. After crossing paths with another Yautja ship, the Bad Blood knew someone would come sniffing.
The incident with his ship had been quite the problem, but now the oomans responsible for it would pay, and pay dearly.
Luckily for him, whoever Enforcer was hunting after his band, had decided to go after his crew first. Since he was still in contact with some of them, the criminal Elite was quite aware they would come after him next.
He instructed his best hunters in how to prepare the terrain, to try and ambush anyone who came after them, and if possible, take their ship.
A ship.
Rot'gar needed a new vessel. Oomans' technology was not only ancient, it would take them nowhere, really. It would be better to set up camp and prepare for when (not if, when) a Yautja came looking for him.
He now had an established domain over the area. All other Yautjas would be at a disadvantage. If Rot'gar played his cards right, he would be able to ambush whoever came in pursuit and take their ship.
Once his former band mates failed to getting contact for days, the Bad Blood rightfully guessed at what had been their end.
It would not take long now.
This was a game of high stakes, and Rot'gar would play with everything he had.
XXX
The blip signaling an exterior request for live communication sent the room in gloomy silence.
Setg'n'kah looked over Ah'kaedh. He still couldn't quite believe that such Yautja could have steem as intense as his towards a ooman. But Setg'n'kah was no fool. His xenophobia was on par with everyone else's, but unlike others, it didn't blind him. He disabled the video transmission on their side.
(Ah'kaedh's hesitation hadn't lasted more than a second, but it was enough for Setg'n'kah and Lar'jar to notice it).
"Lance speaking", came her voice. Her image was being projected on a screen in the room they were currently using.
"Report", Setg'n'kah said before Ah'kaedh could even open his mouth.
"Im sending you footage of my scouting incursion. There are 3 communities contaminated.
Human activity is ongoing in all 3 communities, but one doesn't look quite normal.
Pike trade point is most likely infested. I spotted 3 groups of xenomorphs within less of a mile. They would not venture so far from the nest if they weren't already looking for more hosts"
They all could see the girl taking a deep breath, steading her voice.
"On days with low activity, Pike has… well, had around 2,000 humans in its premises.
As I mentioned to Lar'jar, an accident is very unlikely. Pike never had incidents before and the infrastructure is decent. This tradepoint is active for more than 70 years, and there is no record of any issues with alien fauna.
I don't have further proof that your criminals are responsible for the Xenomorphs' presence here. But they have motive, they knew about the eggs."
During her recovery, Ah'kaedh had a chance to talk some about his culture. Lance was a curious little thing, and she seemed quite interested in all things related to him.
The Girl knew if the Yautjas found xenomorphs, they wouldn't simply leave them be. More than that, in their quest for Rot'gars whereabouts, it was quite likely they would end up encountering an alien or twenty.
"I have no way to determine if the infestation has reached the city already, but the chances are high. Police reports for missing people and dead bodies found in suspicious situations spiked in the last 2 days, all related to the poor communities. The city is a bit far, but those things will not take long to explore their surroundings further.
Setg'n'kah, the rape-murder cases have new developments; another corpse was dropped, in the neighbor city this time. But be advised, the police will drop all ongoing investigations once the first xenomorph sighting is confirmed by the authorities.
I'm monitoring the police and emergency channel. I'm expecting it will happen soon".
"We are headed your way".
"What's the estimated time for your arrival?"
"We should arrive in the next 33 hours"
Chestbusters incubation would be something around 12 hours to full day to emerge, and due to extreme growth spurts, reach adult size in a matter of hours.
"God…there won't…", her voice faltered, her eyes started to swim in tears she insisted to not shed.
Back on Kivar's vessel, Ah'kaedh felt like being skinned alive while watching her.
"Lance. Breathe. Just breath".
"Ah'kaedh?" And now she was crying. For more than one reason.
Ah'kaedh, who was close to the communication panel, was holding a chair's back, trying to rein in his anger. He applied so much pressure in his grip, that his prosthetic started to dig into the piece of furniture, creaking loudly.
"Breathe. Take your time…", as he tried to keep a steady voice, the chair back he was holding snapped.
"It's... It's the mathematical model… I…", she was trying to find her voice, while gathering the courage to say outloud a terrible, terrible truth. It felt like if Lance spelled it, there would be no going back. As if her world would materialize a theoretical tragedy into reality.
"Oh no", Ho'kan gasped.
Lar'jar glanced over the Kid.
"Out with it!", the Medic hissed.
"She told me the oomans have a formula to predict when a infestation will get out of control".
Ho'kan, too shocked to realize all the ramifications of what he had just said. The Kid kept staring at the crying hologram. Lar'jar felt an icy shiver run up and down all his body.
They might lose the colony , Lar'jar concluded. That's why Lance had been acting that way during the communications. She was afraid. Deeply, truly, utterly afraid.
Not for her own well being no. She had terrible self-preservation instincts. She was afraid for the inhabitants of that planet.
Millions of human lives. Still going about their routines, like tomorrow would be just like yesterday.
Thedus was now inside a Schrödinger box. Dead and alive at the same time.
The Girl knew that no matter what, at this rate, it would be impossible to avoid the pain and misery an active alien colony would bring forth. The chaos, spiking crime rates, the injustice of an evacuation plan that would only guarantee the safety of less than 7% of the population.
The fear, the collapsing of health and security. Supply shortages that would follow, if Pike had not been lost, the mercenaries would have become rich smuggling people out.
XXX
Somewhere out there 4 disgraced Hunters enjoined the spoils of their last successful hunt.
And waited. Biding their time.
The mercenary tradepoint oomans called Pike had such an interesting, remote location. A center of illegal activities, so well hidden from the rest of their society. Perfect for Rot'gar's needs.
Perfect for Kiande Amedha to hide and breed.
It had been somewhat difficult for the Bad Bloods to find their slave providers. Rot'gar had been trading alien species with the same group for decades already.
The disgraced Yautja knew the Genovese had what he wanted. After all, he had arranged (harvested) the Kiande Amedha eggs himself.
Five crates. Each containing five regular eggs plus a queen's.
After weeks looking for the slave trades, and retrieving the eggs, it was only a matter of time.
His band (or what was left of it) prepared for the chaos to follow, establishing shelter and safe location, two cities away. Once the hunters stranded in one of the neighboring systems (due their ships forced landing) failed to contact him for days (after reporting a successful ambush against their pursuers), Rot'gar knew immediately what their silence meant, but most importantly, what would happen next.
The Bad Blood just needed to ensure the oomans would not throw a wrench on his plans. When he planted the eggs on Pike, he tasked two of his band to set a second set of eggs in the middle of the canyons, miles away from the tradepoint.
So yeah, all the disgraces Yautjas needed to do now was wait.
Whoever came sniffing after their tracks, would fall in Rot'gar's finest death trap, and be faced with the surprise of their lives.
XXX
Failure had a bitter, bitter taste. For most.
For Fer-de-Lance failure was like poison. One would think her little Black Ops heart would have ceased to beat decades ago.
But no. She had a heart. Battered but still beating. And now drowning in guilt.
Human society was not for beginners, or the faint of heart. Lance was already used to the game of loss, of hidden movements, of necessary sacrifices.
Of choosing lesser evils.
But now the Girl was facing the impending, unavoidable demise of thousands of human lives, and for nothing. Nothing.
There was no necessary sacrifice, no hidden purpose. Nothing.
Just the consequences of criminal fuckery. That the government had to deal with care, walking on eggshells around taxpayers perceived reality, while not messing with megacorporations. Hell, they had the military develop a whole Black Ops operation with agents that were already dead. That how under wraps things had to be. Because of the game.
The pernicious game called human society.
And why would she feel guilty? Because not so deep down she knew it was also her fault. Her responsibility. Her failure.
That so many human lives were already lost. For nothing.
Nothing at all.
XXX
Somewhere out there, queens were laying eggs. Somewhere out there, semi conscious oomans were resting, snug and safe in their cocoons. But not for long. Never long.
Somewhere out there, chaos.