Chapter 8: Aim for the Heart
A few hours ago...
It was funny. For Zazin', at least. From orbit, the planet looked almost as though it were dying or diseased. He could see the camera-feed from the inside of his transport pod, and had a live view of the planet as he was being flown towards the surface. And, in those short minutes, as he busied himself with tying his hip-length plaits into a single braid, he saw the planet "Guardian-625" for the first time. He hadn't bothered looking out of a window, before. Not that he could have. Not without a Bio-Mask configured for viewing light. And... Yautja ships didn't have any glass windows, so... even with a Bio-Mask, he wouldn't be able to use it. Unless he got onto the Bridge, the only place on Yautja vessels with any viewports like that. Luckily, though, he could use the pod to give him all of the information he needed.
In any case. His first view of GD-625 gave him the impression that he was being sent to a tomb-world. A dead, barren planet where the corpses of Bad-Bloods get launched at, out of a torpedo tube. Then, upon closer look, he saw patches of green and brown, here and there on the planet's surface. This still puzzled him, so he withheld any judgement for the time being. When his Tyioe-ti pod began to breach atmosphere — the vehicle shaking violently — he could see the truth. About sixty-percent of the planet's surface was completely covered in Ooman-made housing structures. Enough to be able to draw an apparent line between the areas with forests or meadows, and the areas with gunmetal gray, flat "terrain". This was truly a stronghold for Ooman civilization. And it was a big planet, too— almost as large as Yautja Prime. Which is saying something.
Upon the Tyioe-ti transport vehicle breaking through the cloud layer, his view of the quickly-approaching planet was finalized.
From a bird's eye, the entirety of the "cities" on Guardian seemed to have one, singular roof. His pod couldn't even land on actual soil— it had to embed itself into the surface of the metal roofing, damn-near making a hole through the alloy, upon impact. When Zazin-Vor'mekta stepped out of the "ship", he had a devil of a time trying to find a way into where he knew the Hive to be. Everywhere he looked, in all directions, all he could see was a vast, flat, metallic "floor". Only in the distance, far to the west, and obscured by fog, did he see a large tree— the beginnings of a forest. And even then, he had to tap against the inside of his Bio-Mask with his mandible to order it to zoom-in on the horizon. The sky was... shockingly clear, with almost no visible fog, clouds, or smog, and the sun shone a brilliant orange in the mid-afternoon sky, painting the gunmetal gray "floor" in sheets of tessellated bronze— the flat solar-panels on the ground producing a blinding glare.
It was all just a massive roof, as though it was made to shelter a single building. A building many, many "kilometers" wide and long. The only variation to the "terrain" he saw were the occasional, whirring device with fans and vents that seemed to serve as air-conditioning. As well as the many innumerable solar panels which pock-marked the "roof's" surface like a rash of disease-pocked skin on the flesh of a giant. Otherwise, though... he seemed to be bereft of any way inside the "city".
First things first, he had to find a Beacon. A large, stationary device — not too heavy to lift, but which was launched onto the planet's surface by the Hunting Ship — that would give him the information he sought. The Hunting crew will have already been planting many Beacons across the surface of Guardian, and these Beacons will have been collecting information for as long as they'd been active. Which... was at least a Yautja Term, or ten days, if he was remembering it correctly. All Zazin' had to do was use his Bio-Mask's IFF mode to look for one of the things. Whenever they were planted onto a Hunting location, the Beacons were always under a Cloak, as they performed their work.
It was as simple as tapping his mandible on a button on the Bio-Mask's inside-surface a few times until his vision became coated over with a shade of green, and turning his head from left to right. A bright cyan-colored object in the distance, due northwest, tiny from this distance, jumped out at him. So, he set off trudging in that direction, weaving between air-conditioning units and hopping over solar-panels as he went. Eventually, as he got closer, his Heads-Up-Display updated to reveal a holographic image of the Dark Blade Clan's ritualistic emblem— hanging above the device. It was only visible to him because his Bio-Mask projected the image onto his display. To an Ooman, it would appear that nothing was there, at all.
The Beacon, a two-and-a-half-nok-high contraption was a vaguely egg-shaped, metal "ball" on tripod-esque stilts. To Zazin', it appeared to be blueish-green, due to his Bio-Mask, but would be invisible to the Ooman eye. The device was designed to remain Cloaked, no matter what. Until, of course, a Hunter like Zazin-Vor'mekta were to come along and activate it. Which entailed him kneeling down to tap on a button near the Beacon's base. The device dropped its Cloaking and began to loudly telescope upwards to thrice its base height, coming up to Zazin's' head. At which point, it began to transmit all of its collected information to Zazin's' Wrist Gauntlet.
Given that he was of Elite rank, Zazin' had earned the right to regularly make use of a Sat-Comp. A Satellite-Computer. The specially designed, onboard computer system that sat in the frame of his Wrist Gauntlet. It would allow him to make unimpeded calls directly to the bridge of the Hunting ship— but for the task at hand, it would provide rather detailed holograms of the topography of the area. Said "topography" being the result of scans performed by the Beacon during its time on Guardian-625. Zazin's' hunch that the Beacons on this planet would be networked together and sharing information was proven right.
For the next hour, Zazin' sat near the Beacon and studied the holographic scans of the city that his Sat-Comp projected into the air above his left wrist.
As it turns out, this "city" that the Oomans had built was more than a mere mega-complex. It was as though they had built streets and roads and neighborhoods and domiciles and city blocks extremely close together, and then built yet more of those things on top of the previous buildings. And then kept doing it over and over again. Just layers of two-to-three-story-tall buildings and houses on top of one another. In some areas of the "city", these "layers" went down below the "roof" further than the Beacon's scanners could reach... which was at least a square-kilometer in all directions. It seemed to change based on the planet's natural elevation. As though someone, somewhere, had chosen to build a house on a mountain, and made it illegal to build anything below that elevation, so everyone else had to build the subsequent structures up to that standard of height.
This city... it wasn't so much a "city", as it was many, many cities, stacked on top of and situated around each other in twisted pathways. With elevators in regular intervals that facilitated vertical travel. The complexity was... astounding. Like a literal insect hive... on drugs. Luckily for Zazin', though, the Beacons had identified the Hive's location, as well as its surrounding territory. The Hive itself was little more than dozens of "square miles" in area. This would be odd, if it weren't for the nature of the mega-city's infrastructure. In addition to those miles in area, the Hive was also a number of miles "deep"... or "tall"? Let's go with "deep". Much more surface area for the Ahgai'Palak to work with than a regular cave-system or simple town.
This Hive had kicked the Oomans out of their own cities. As far as the Beacons could identify, the bulk of the Hive's population was spread throughout most of the territory that they'd taken. The area where the Queen resided, and where the Egg Chambers lay was in the heart of the Hive proper— where the Kiande Admeha had bothered to construct Hive Resin. Everywhere else that had become a veritable war-zone was only patrolled by rotations of Ahgai'Palak scouting groups.
The Ooman's military had constructed a perimeter around the territory that the Ahgai'Palak had conquered, effectively trapping the Serpents inside their own dominion. The battles fought throughout this side of the planet... they were massive. Immense. A gold-mine for Hunts! What luck, that all of this earth-shattering warfare was constrained to this one continent! Well— this one corner of the continent. The rest of it was untouched, virtually. This all presented a unique situation. If the Lar'ja'Kte Clan played its cards right... they could keep this conflict going for decades! It was basically a stalemate between the legions of Kiande Admeha and ranks of Marines— the Yautja had potentially discovered a treasure-trove of training material! One that would make their people strong.
Which was why Zazin' found it odd that Clan Leader Yak-a'Shen wanted him to kill the Queen, outright, before anything else. Yes, the Hive would live on, and a new Queen would likely rise up within a week or two during a consequential Female Culling, but it would handicap the Ahgai'Palak Hive significantly, reduce its numbers, and give the Oomans an immensely advantageous opportunity. The Oomans could potentially storm the Hive's territory during the Culling period and wipe it out. A Hive of this size and maturity would certainly become damn-near crippled in the event of the Queen's death. If the Queen dies, the Hive's forces will be unable to communicate and organize on a viable scale. The females of the Hive will begin to produce Royal Jelly due to the lack of inhibiting pheromones being spread by the Queen, and start to battle with each other— killing off the weak until a single, mature female remains. This process, though necessary, would reduce the Hive's population to (potentially) a fifth or a tenth of what it was.
Why did Yak-a'Shen want the matriarch dead, then? If anything, it was the last thing the Clan would want. He'd said that it would give the Clan bragging rights, but now that Zazin' was down here, he couldn't see it.
Then again, Zazin' supposed he didn't particularly care that much. There were other Kiande Admeha Hives to be found, after all. As well as comparably dangerous prey, in the galaxy. Besides... Zazin' wasn't a fan of hunting Oomans. Having to do that while hunting Kiande Admeha (one of the only prey items that gave him any challenge, anymore) would just become dull. A chore. Another tedious task. He could abstain, of course. But Zazin' didn't come on this Hunting Ship's expedition and take time away from his pups and mate just to sit on the vessel and do nothing. If he didn't take home a decent skull or two, the trip would be a waste.
Zazin-Vor'mekta didn't relish the idea of fighting Oomans, now. Could they be worthy opponents? Yes. Were they fun to pick apart and defeat? Absolutely. But not enough. It was Zazin's' belief that Oomanity had a long way to go before they reached their zenith. Before they could offer their best. The best possible challenge for a Yautja to face. It was this, and Zazin's' indulgence in the words of Nightstorm, that led him to abstain from hunting Oomans, altogether. He was only three-hundred-seventy-three years old— he could afford to wait for a bigger challenge from the Pyode Admeha.
In any case, after finding himself to be rather satisfied with his knowledge of the terrain, Zazin' stood up and looked about, once more. The Hive proper was at least a few kilometers southeast. His goal was to kill the Queen post-haste. So... how did he get there? He would have to move quickly. But he didn't have a way to get in...
As he thought of how to get inside the complex, Zazin-Vor'mekta started jogging in the direction of the Hive. It shouldn't have taken more than a few minutes...
... though really, it took about an hour.
In the present...
Samantha's smile faltered when Anteros's hand adjusted to grab her wrist. His grip was inescapable— it enveloped her wrist and the lower half of her forearm. Though welcome, the contact, and context of the situation, still made her breath catch. She watched as her hand was slowly dragged near to the tail-blade that had caused her such grief. She flinched when the tail itself moved and drifted toward her approaching hand. She closed her eyes and held her breath. She waited...
Her entire body violently twitched when her finger-tips touched a hard surface. When her palm and fingers were made to wrap around the object with large, alien hands, she seemed to squeak.
Seconds passed... and nothing happened. Samantha felt the grip on her wrist fall away, and her own grip on what had to be Anteros's tail tightened immensely— knuckles whitening. After many, many painful moments, Samantha finally opened her eyes and focused on the object in her hand. She was tightly squeezing the base of the Xenomorph's tail-blade. It was... underwhelming.
She eventually released the breath she'd been holding onto and her hand relaxed.
Huh... well... this is fine, I guess, she thought to herself, feeling sheepish, but giving a small grin. She could only celebrate in this fact, since Anteros didn't seem to be the type to incessantly lambast others at their expense.
The blade was... large. It felt heavy, and she could tell that Anteros's tail was completely lax. Her mind took a moment or two to process things before her arm began to ache from holding up the weapon. She eventually adjusted to rest her right elbow on her leg and brought the tail-blade in front of her, up to her face.
Her hand was wrapped around the base of the blade. The tail itself seemed to be made up of... well, it was difficult to put into words. If one took the links in a chain, flattened them against a wall to remove any twisting, and made it about twice as flexible, while filling in the empty spaces in the links with more steel, they would get a somewhat adequate summation of the end part of Anteros's' tail. Like individual "disks" or ovular, flexible segments that manage to be knit together on either end while not being so separate as to cut off blood flow. As the tail reached its end, however, the "disks" seemed to become shorter, but wider near the base of the blade. The segment that served as the junction between the business end and the rest of the limb appeared to be shaped somewhat like a goblet or wine glass. If the goblet didn't have a flat "foot" and with a much wider "stalk".
The blade looked no less impressive than when she'd seen it, before.
20 inches long. 5 inches wide at the base. Tapering to a blade-sharp point at the very tip. Very flat, though— barely five centimeters thick near the base of the blade, and tapering down to 1 centimeter near the tip. What she thought were serrated edges, before, was actually an illusion created by the coloration of the flat, chitinous weapon. The edges were actually, more or less, smooth. And frighteningly sharp. Almost as though a master blacksmith had been refreshing the grind on its edge, daily. The surface of the weapon was shiny. The exact sheen of a metal dagger.
No..., Sam decided. Her hand that held the tail-blade adjusted and switched over to an ice-pick-grip. This was more comparable to a Notched Cinquedea. A straight-up medieval weapon. After some seconds of evaluating the tail-blade in her hand, trying not to think too much about how many people had been on the receiving end of it, and her gaze focused itself onto the task at hand. The medical box.
She stared down at the medical case, briefly thinking of how to go about this, and grabbed it with her left hand. She propped it up so that it was on its side in a vertical position. She brought the tip of the tail-blade down onto the seam where the case was meant to open at. At first, she tried jimmying the tip inside the crack. It didn't really work. She then attempted to carve along the seam and perhaps cut a groove into the plastic. Samantha frowned. All it did was chip off tiny fragments and scratch the red paint.
She didn't want to damage anything inside. A bottle of basic or acidic liquid getting shattered and contaminating everything inside would render the supplies within useless.
She had a thought, and turned around to look over her right shoulder, at Anteros. Her brain did a double-take when she found no eyes to look at, and she settled for focusing on just above the Xenomorph's mouth. Upon looking at him, his head (which seemed to have been pointing at the box) oriented toward her face, in return. Samantha went to speak, coughed, cleared her throat, and asked, "could you help me with this?".
He didn't respond, but instead got up and walked forward, coming around to her front and sitting back down, with the medical box between the two of them. His tail, all the while, didn't tug or move from her hand— completely lax. Then again, there was at least six more feet of the limb to work with.
She suddenly felt a lot more timid with the Xenomorph being front and center— dead-on. Even in a sitting position, Anteros still had ten inches of height on her. It didn't help that his head was pointed directly at her face. Being watched by something without eyes never failed to disturb.
She stuttered, "u-um... c-could you just... ". She shifted the medical case forward, awkwardly. "Hold this still?", she asked. She waited...
Anteros's head oriented down at the box, before "looking" back up at her. He looked back down again and scooted forward a bit. The bed creaked. He leaned forward, hands lifting up to hold the box on either side, planting it on the bed, firmly. She took that as a "yes".
Samantha gave a small "thank you", before resting her left hand on the box, and balancing the tip of the tail-blade down onto the seam of the box, once more.
Her right hand lifted up by an inch, then pushed down again— gauging the trajectory. It made a dull tapping sound on the plastic, before resting where she'd struck and not bouncing off like she'd expected it to. A tiny dent in the material appeared. It felt similar to using a hammer. Except... without a nail, and having to act as though your fist was the "head".
Samantha's fist raised up, lifting the blade two feet above the target. She then pantomimed the process of bringing her tool downward a few times, before taking a deep breath and committing to a proper strike.
There was a small "crack" sound, followed by a tiny thump as a fragment of red plastic found itself flung across the room, and onto the floor. Samantha lifted the tail-blade and dropped it to one side before examining the case. A small hole in the frame of the box, just enough to fit two fingers into. She looked up at Anteros to gauge his reaction and found that he hadn't moved.
When a small tingle in her neck buzzed and his voice resounded in her skull, she jumped, and leaned back. "Hang on", he said, in a dull tone.
He seemed to ignore her reaction and brought the box closer to his chest. He stuck a talon on his right hand into the hole, and curled it, inside, then wrenched his arm to his left and downward. As though he was using a crowbar. Not a second passed in the process, and a larger chunk of plastic came free, being flung up into the air and landing on the floor, again. She watched as Anteros proceeded to stick a thumb of each hand into the medical case, and yanking in either direction.
Samantha flinched as the two halves of the box were torn apart and left to hang from Anteros's hands. He immediately laid both parts down onto the bed in front of Samantha and rose from his seated position. She scooted forward and leaned down to examine the contents of the box, while Anteros stalked around her, off to her right, and returned to his seat behind her.
The various tools, vials, and cloths present were not spilled or damaged, thankfully. It was all held in place by large Velcro and leather straps. The scent of them so strong that she didn't have to lean in, were the typical aroma of car seat-belts.
As Samantha proceeded to fiddle about with the contents of the medical case, Anteros allowed himself to put his attention on something else. He had to check something.
After a brief second of listening and twisting his head about in a figure-8 pattern to sense for any approaching entities, Anteros was confused to discover that... him and Samantha were still completely alone in The Apartments. Well, this section of The Apartments, at least. He could scan upwards and downwards by about nine floors, and detect movement as far as a hundred feet away... and there was nothing. No bioelectric signals, no foot-falls, no loud crashes, no activity of any sort, whatsoever. Just as had been the case for the past day and a half.
Gangshi was likely the only Soldier to have been sent into The Apartments for the whole of this month.
This was odd because... Anteros would have expected Mother to have sent some Soldiers here to kill him, by now. It would not have taken long— half a day, at most. Yet... he couldn't sense any movement of any kind. His prognostication for the next day or so was that Mother would send an insufficient amount of Soldiers to cut him down, due to underestimating him (she underestimated the Humans often enough and consistently enough that Anteros foresaw it as being more than likely), and Anteros would eliminate her "kill-team".
Then, upon killing them, Anteros would have to organize moving from their current location, because Mother would send a greater number of minions to hunt him down- more than he could feasibly handle.
He had thought that a few Soldiers would have arrived by now. Maybe a young Ranger to scout his position? But... no. There was nothing.
He wondered what could be postponing his execution...
Meanwhile...
Zazin' had finally reached what his Sat-Comp had designated as the most optimal location for entry... and found no entrance. The device had simply told him where best to infiltrate the complex to begin his crusade on the Hive. It was a common occurrence. Wrist Gauntlets did not exactly provide much room for particularly advanced artificial intelligence. Such as it was, Zazin-Vor'mekta was used to having to handle this sort of issue. And what had he learned from his many hunts?
"When you lack a doorway, make a new one".
Thus, Zazin' aimed his Plasma Caster at the roof, and blew a whole in its surface. It was a model of Plasma Caster specifically designed to mimic Ooman "grenade launchers", only with an extremely advanced defragmentation explosive that detonated in a burst of ionized flame. Useful against swarms of Ahgai'Palak. It was suitable for creating large holes in frail Ooman metal, as well.
When he dropped down into the hole and found himself in a metal hallway with the distinct scent of Kiande Admeha blood hanging in the air... he knew the hunt was officially on, and ran, sprinting in the direction of the screeches that reverberated throughout this mega-city like acoustics in a theatre.
...
That had been five minutes ago. And now? Now, Zazin-Vor'mekta was sprinting through the twisting halls and pathways of the Hive like an absolute madman, making a mad-dash for the Queen's chamber. Which seemed to be in an extremely large empty space, near the surface of the complex— no way to get in from above, so his best option was to enter laterally; no need to go up or down. Naturally, he had to be careful of where he put his footing due to the Hive-Resin on the floor, and to bat aside any Ka'Torag-de (1) Ahgai'Palak that leapt toward him.
He had done this many times, and this was not unusual behavior to those who knew him. In spite of this tactic being mostly unheard of outside of the Elders.
It stemmed from a lesson he'd learned from one of his older siblings. A warrior larger and stronger than him, named Kiande-Th'syra (2). Back when Zazin' was preparing to attain his first Queen skull, Kiande-Th'syra had pulled him aside and told him, "when tackling a Hive of Kiande Admeha, as with any superior adversary, it is best to simply drop all pretenses and strike directly at the heart". So, that was what Zazin' did. Barge straight through the defenses of the Hive on that reserve planet, never get stuck-in with any engagement on the way to the Egg Chamber, and repeatedly shoot the Queen in the chest with his Plasma Caster until she lay dead. Well... it wasn't quite as easy as that sounds, but that was the long and short of it. Then... he subsequently had to fight off a group of angry Royal Guards, before being saved by the intervention of a fair few Vanguards of the Clan.
It wasn't exactly what Kiande-Th'syra had been getting at, but it worked out for the best. They told him to kill the Queen without damaging the skull, and he did just that.
And it was a strategy that he was going to repeat, now. It wasn't until much later that Zazin-Vor'mekta realized the true genius of 'Syra's stratagem. Ahgai'Palak Hives, especially large ones, tend to have consistent and evenly spaced rotations of patrols, scouting the outside territory of the Hive. If one strolled up to the edge of the Hive's dominion, they'd be found and attacked by a scouting group of Sain'ja. If the "prey" did not immediately perish or be overwhelmed, the group would call for reinforcements through their mind-network. If the intruder was not an issue, they would simply capture whatever animals they could Infest, and carve up the carcasses of whatever they couldn't— for food.
However, if one were to, for example... blitz past said scout group, or dash into the Hive between two rotations (or, better yet in Zazin's' case, drop into the Hive from behind their outside "ring" of defenders) you could override the Hive's response. If you simply weave past the scout group in question, they'll be preoccupied with trying to slay you, and will be slow to call for assistance. It was a common trend with most Serpent Hives that Zazin-Vor'mekta had come across, and was an exploitable flaw in their formidable infrastructure. One that could give a significant advantage. And if you are never detected by a Sain'ja patrol at all... well, you can quickly catch the inner occupants of the Hive off-guard. Not for long... but long enough...
Of course... nothing ever quite played out as smoothly as that when it comes to Kiande Admeha...
Like right now!
Zazin' was sprinting along, recalling the map of the Hive that a particularly well-placed Beacon had picked up, when he entered a rather large, odd room. So odd that it caused him to pause in his running. Only one half of it was covered in Hive-Resin. It was about twenty noks long, and ten noks wide, with Zazin' having ran into it from a short hallway. The hallway in question was not interrupted by any door, and continued on the opposite end of the room. It was as though the Ahgai'Palak Workers had completely ignored the entire left half of the room, creating a straight "path" into the conjoining hallway, for a reason that was not immediately obvious. It was completely empty, as well— and metal, like the rest of the complex.
Zazin' stood for a few moments, Plasma Glaive at his side, ignited, before being urged on by loud, thundering screams, echoing behind him. The Ka'Torag-de had alerted the rest of the Hive of his presence, and they would soon be on his head like flies on dung.
So, he continued forward along the Hive-Resin path, into the hallway in front of him. It turned on a sharp corner to the right after a fifteen nok length, so he lifted his right arm to prepare to clutch at the conveniently handle-shaped corner that the Hive-Resin formed. Such that he could swing himself down the next hallway, you see. He estimated that he was getting close to the Queen, as well, if the rising amount of pheromones detected in the air by his Bio-Mask was anything to go by.
Except... when he neared the turn...
The hand of an Ahgai'Palak Royal Guard swung out to greet him. The creature had perfectly timed its swing with Zazin's' momentum, and, well... caught him off-guard. When the large talons of the Royal Guard wrapped around his Bio-Mask and head, the palm of the Guard's hand slamming into his face, Zazin' was lifted up into the air and brought back down onto the ground in what an Ooman could describe as a "chokeslam".
The force of the blow produced large cracks in the Hive-Resin floor— as well as leaving Zazin' winded. His world went black for a moment or two, no sound reaching his ears, before the sight of the Royal Guard's fist coming down at his face forced him to act. The sensations of his bruised back and stalled diaphragm left his perception, as Zazin' rolled to his left, and sprung to his feet, backing up several noks and putting distance between him and his new opponent.
The Royal Guard snarled in Zazin's' direction, before yanking its fist out of the big, wide hole that it had made in the mucoid flooring. It stood up straight and stomped forward slowly, deliberately, shaking the surrounding structure with each step. Its bared fangs dripped with salvia and dried acid-residue. Its hands were curled into fists at its sides, shoulders squared and large, crowned head hunched over.
Zazin' continued to back-up into the half-decorated room, mandibles turning slack behind his mask, and brow furrowing. This... was not good... not what he'd planned. He hadn't anticipated the presence of a Royal Guard. Not in the Hive, anyway— he thought that the Queen would have sent her confidants out to fight the Oomans and direct her soldiers. The Oomans had never gotten close to the Egg Chamber, after all. This... was unexpected.
And it put a wrinkle in his plan.
The sound of more growls from behind him drew Zazin-Vor'mekta's attention. Several Sain'ja Serpents, as well as more than a few Workers and Ka'Torag-de were blocking the path that he'd come from. No exit.
The Warriors were standing tall, flexing their talons and growling incessantly in Zazin's' direction, while the Workers and Lurkers merely clung to the walls and ceiling in squat positions, tails lashing about in a mix rage and fear. Which Zazin' found odd— they normally would have simply swarmed him by now.
The Plasma Caster on Zazin's' left shoulder turned about and aimed at the feet of the first row of Sain'ja R'ka, charging up to fire. It had about three more shots stored in it, with twelve more shells hanging on a leather bandolier across Zazin's' armored chest.
Then... a sound rang louder than and quieted the snarls and moans of the mob of Ahgai'Palak in Zazin's' escape-route. The Royal Guard who had surprised him not forty seconds ago released a long, loud wail from its maw. The sound shook the very air, and seemed to render the entire world silent— nearly giving him a headache, even. It certainly would have rendered an Ooman deaf. But it wasn't directed at Zazin'. The mob at his back seemed to settle down immensely, even retreating backwards a few noks. The Sain'ja ceased in their snarling, and lowered themselves to squat on the floor, heads ducked in obedience to the Royal Guard.
Zazin' looked from the Serpent group blocking his exit to the Royal Guard in front of him that had ordered its underlings to stand down.
Zazin's' eyes narrowed behind his mask, mandibles clicking together thrice.
It knows they're no match for me..., he realized. It wants to spare unnecessary losses. Clever... too clever...
That was when Zazin' took the moment to look at the Royal Guard more thoroughly. He'd long ago mastered the art of perfect observation, and only needed a scant few heartbeats to fully evaluate any situation or target.
It was, like all Royal Guards (or "Pry-torr-ee-ahns" [he'd forgotten the actually spelling], in the Ooman tongue) more than ten noks tall at the shoulder when standing upright. This specific Guard was a somewhat above average specimen, being 14 noks tall in total with a shoulder-width that was half again the size of Zazin' himself. And Zazin' was tall for a Yautja— though, at 9 noks from head-to-toe, he only came up to the middle of the Guards' "sternum". This would definitely be an asymmetrical bout. And not just because of size and reach. Royal Guards of this size almost always weigh as much as a large Ooman vehicle (probably around the mass of a "mini van" or "ice cream truck").
The Royal Guard in front of him was, otherwise, unremarkable. With a few scars adorning its crown, long-healed from wounds inflicted by Ooman weapons, it was clearly battle-hardened. Its arms and legs were like up-scaled versions of that seen on Warriors— skeletal-looking forearms and shins, with thin but deceptively strong muscle tissue coating the upper arms, feet, and thighs. Similarly, its torso was adorned by ribcage-esque armor (like its skull and crown), while its abdomen was seemingly made of softer, leathery tissue. Like the typical Warrior, its body was the perfect blend of defense and flexibility.
The lack of any visible sexual vent in its crotch suggested that the Queen had already mated long before, and wasn't planning to for at least another month, or so.
Its tail, like all Kiande Admeha and Nrak'ytara (3), was a segmented whip of prehensile power with a long blade on its end. By the looks of this one's tail-blade... it had been a Worker. One could tell by the short, vestigial spines near the base of the blade that would have formed a "paddle".
The creature, as though preparing for some form of duel, began to slowly pace to its right, circling around Zazin's' left side, which Zazin' reciprocated rather naturally. It gnashed its teeth, bared its fangs, flicked its tail, flexed its hands, and shook its legs subtly after every step it took.
Zazin' had all of the know-how he needed to beat this creature. But even as he readied into a battle-stance, still pacing sideways to his right, with his Plasma Glaive held up on-guard, his brow stayed furrowed, and his focus still dogged by doubt.
For one, this entire encounter was a waste of time, and he would have to fight his way out of the Hive, regardless. All of his momentum was halted by this interruption, and he'd lost his chance to kill the Queen without risking serous injury or loss. For second... fighting Nrak'ytaras was never a simple matter. They often had the patience and forward thinking to properly employ blocks, parries, evasions, counter-attacks, and feints.
It was, after all, only the strongest and most successful Ahgai'Palak specimens that won the right to drink Royal Jelly from the Queen herself, and thus become her bodyguard and mate. Royal Guards, more often than not, had had the experience and genetic lottery to become masterful in combat; unlike their underlings, who often only had the capacity to attack with ruthless abandon, turning into nothing more than offensive whirlwinds that could be easily countered by a trained warrior. It was, in fact, that very tactic of relentless and unfettered attack that inspired the martial arts used by Brawlers. High risk, high reward.
Royal Guards were always more unpredictable, and more bothersome opponents to face. If they couldn't outright crush you with their impressive strength, they would try to outfight you— and if they couldn't outfight you, they would call for support and attempt to pepper you with sprays of acid fired from their maws while their minions kept you tied up in close combat.
The fact that this particular Ahgai'Palak Nrak'ytara seemed to want a proper duel with Zazin-Vor'mekta only told him that it was particularly cunning. It was a novel occurrence, though one that brought no comfort.
Zazin-Vor'mekta, rather embarrassingly, found himself being brought back to reality by the sound of a loud, barking hiss from the Royal Guard in front of him. More than enough to make him halt his movement. It had stopped pacing and had assumed a ready-stance, having barked a challenge at the Yautja. Its teeth bared, though not covered in drool, with its feet spaced apart, and its left leg placed slightly forward of the right. Its arms were held up in front of it, ready to slash at its prey with its claws, the tips of its talons pointed forward. Its tail was lifted above the ground, held aloft, curled, and twitching behind and to the right of its left shoulder.
Zazin-Vor'mekta had been in more than enough duels to have his body react on its own, and if he was honest with himself, this situation did tempt him to indulge. His left foot extended forward, leg becoming completely straight as he shifted his weight onto his right leg, which bent at the knee in response. His left foot pointed in the direction of the Guard, and his right foot facing exactly 90 degrees to the right of his front. His spine bent ever-so-slightly as he braced himself. His left hand turned about and reversed its grip on his Plasma Glaive, knuckles exposed to the opponent while it raised up to hang slightly above his head. His right hand adopted an opposing grip, staying at around hip-height. His Plasma Glaive was held diagonally in front of him, with its uppermost end to the left and above his head. It was long-since ignited, and the twin, opposite-facing blades of white plasma on either end of the staff weapon shined in the dark room, illuminating the pitch black surroundings.
The entire Hive was completely dark, in fact, though Zazin' had been able to get around fairly easily with his Bio-Mask set to detect Kiande Admeha. Everything around him were varying shades of gray, with the Royal Guard on the opposite side of the room being stark, bright, saturated green.
The glow of the Plasma Glaive's two blades only served to put an eerie shine on Zazin's' Bio-Mask and right leg greave, darkening the bright bronze of his armor. The rest of the room was largely impossible to make out to the Ooman eye.
He briefly twisted the Plasma Glaive in his hands around to have the blade nearest his left hand be aligned forwards, prepared for a cut on the Nrak'ytara that was in the process of slowly crouching down to the floor. Its hands splayed out onto the Hive-Resin-coated floor, talons digging into the material for grip. Its feet were laid flat on the ground, knees coming up above its spine as it all but lay down completely. The convex curve of its spine, and the rigidity of its tail, still held aloft, betrayed its intention to pounce. Even at its diminished height, it still came up to Zazin's' stomach at its shoulder.
Zazin's' eyes had already widened immensely as he entered a typical battle-trance, prepared for anything. He could hear the beating of his own heart, in the deafening silence of the Hive. The only noise to cut through the darkness were occasional growls from the "audience". He suddenly felt extremely cold and light on his feet, as his body shut down its digestive system and began to let flow chemical enhancements to ensure his survival. One of the few times in his life that he felt truuly alive.
There were three ways this could end. Zazin' could end it quickly with a swift slice to the Royal Guard's neck, and make his escape. The battle could become drawn-out to the point where Zazin' would be forced to retreat and call in reinforcements from the Hunting Ship. Or, he would die.
While this reality mostly escaped him as he became absorbed in the task at hand, he still kept an adequately tactical mind. The surest way to be killed in this bout is if the Royal Guard were to throttle him and potentially break one or more of his bones with sheer, blunt force. Zazin's' Spear Master armor-set was durable, and covered his whole body. It could take more than a few hits from the Royal Guard's talons. Each section of metal plating could withstand the creature's tail, as well, though it would likely leave said section of armor unusable until it could be repaired.
Zazin' had enough strength to contend in a pure bout of grappling, though not enough to hold out indefinitely. Only enough to briefly shunt block the creature's fists. And give it pause before it decided to try and grab him.
He possessed on his person the Plasma Glaive in his hands, a bandolier of fruit-sized ammunition for the Plasma Caster mounted on his left shoulder, three Proximity Mines (explosive devices which could be attached to any surface after being activated, or simply tossed like a clumsy version of an Ooman frisbee, which would detonate upon anything and everything getting near to it) attached to his lower back via a small, leather belt around his waist, and a Scimitar arm-blade on his right Wrist Gauntlet.
The various explosives on his person were secured to his body by leather straps that sat outside his armor, and could be severed from him by the swipe of one of the beast's claws. Though, that was simply a possibility that he would have to account for.
His Plasma Caster fired its explosives in an arc, and it would take too long to properly lock onto the Royal Guard for it to work— the room was simply too enclosed, and the distance between the creature and Zazin' too small, for it to be viable.
His Plasma Glaive could safely cut through the Serpent's flesh without any need to worry about acid spray— the plasma cutting-edges would cauterize wounds as fast as they create them. The same could not be said about his Scimitar— with enough speed, a cut could be made while keeping the blade intact, but if Zazin' were put in a position that warranted the use of it, that would mean being on the back-foot. And performing a Bloodless-Cut while being pressured was never a good idea.
Despite the misfortune of the situation, Zazin-Vor'mekta could not help but become excited for a proper challenge. The tips of his tusks pulled themselves together, lightly touching in a subtle Yautja smile...
The Royal Guard snarled, opening its maw...
The fight would now begin. And it would indeed be a good one...
Concurrently...
Mm. Probably just a bunch of Humans giving her grief, somewhere out in the territory, Anteros thought.
Samantha had determined that the patch of her arm that had been covered in Hive-Resin was mostly okay, but experiencing a minor allergic reaction. She used some liquid from the medical box as a numbing agent to calm the skin's irritation, and wrapped a proper gauze and tape around the enflamed limb. She set about using her discarded scarf to wrap around the entirety of the medical case, and tying it closed with the stretchy clothing item. She placed the medical box on the floor to the left of the bed.
That was when, out of the blue (though, not without Anteros noticing the preemptive thoughts emerge in Samantha's mind), she asked the one question that would likely result in a push for escape from Guardian. The one question which would address the reason for his saving her, and would probably bring up many, many more questions. The inquiry that he'd almost been waiting for her to ask.
"Why?"...
Without responding, Anteros hopped off the bed, picked an apple from the plastic bag on the floor, and tossed it in her direction with a flick of his arm. She caught it.
"That... is a very complicated question. I'd probably have to tell you my life's story in order to answer it", he told her, in a tired tone, with a hint of resigned humor.
Samantha thought for a moment, scooted backwards a bit, and leaned against the bed's headboard. She crossed her legs and clutched the apple, holding it up to her face.
"As long as we have the time... shoot...", she said, somewhat coyly, though with a tone dogged in curiosity. Her mouth remained slightly ajar as she waited for him to start.
Anteros hopped up onto the bed. He thought about it for a moment, and decided to lie down at the foot of the bed, on his side, with his back to the door. His head rested itself on the soft blanket, on its side, as his arms and legs lay sprawled across the bed, lengthways. His leg's toes only barely reached Samantha's knee.
He let out an involuntary, long chuff in summation of a restful sigh. It felt... good to lie down... and relax.
Time to justify your existence, Anteros... time to see if your sob-story is up to snuff...
As this is happening...
In all honesty, Zazin' was expecting something more... theatric. Something of a climax or epic showdown. Instead, well... he certainly wasn't expecting it to end within a few seconds.
When the Royal Guard finally launched itself forward, intending to charge into Zazin' with its full weight and perhaps pin him to a wall, Zazin', in that moment, had something of an epiphany. He'd found himself in this sort of situation before, and had always handled it the same way. Whenever a large creature, capable of throttling him and overpowering his defenses charged in his direction, his reaction had always been to fall unto his back, allowing the prey to fly over him, and give the animal a good kick in the underbelly, thereby sending it tumbling forward with a decent injury. Usually in the form of a cracked rib or two, by the time it got up.
He'd done this when encountering Royal Guards, too.
However, this time, he (out of panic or brilliance, he couldn't decide) stood his ground and used his Plasma Glaive to deliver a blow down unto the Guard's head. His timing, given the circumstance, and the speed with which the Royal Guard had flown towards him, was impeccable. The curved, plasma blade of his weapon came down and sliced through the Serpent's skull— bisecting the front portion of its head and cleaving its face in half, down the middle. Even in the moment, Zazin' could make out the plasma sparking and flashing blindingly as it tore through the exoskeleton and flesh and gray-matter. Almost perfectly cutting between the beast's two front incisors, between its canines, and then doing the same through its bottom jaw, even as the creature's mouth was opened in a vicious snarl.
Zazin' however, could not have foreseen the fact that the rest of the creature's body was still in motion. Or, perhaps, he did, but simply forgot in the heat of the moment. Either way, Zazin's' attack had indeed killed the creature instantly, though did nothing to halt its momentum. In addition, before the creature became brain-dead, it obviously had managed to move its tail, just before being rendered deceased. The fifth limb, subsequently, was whipped forward just as the Plasma Glaive landed the blow on the Guard's head, and managed to strike Zazin' in the face. Well, in his Bio-Mask, at least.
It had been a glancing blow, luckily, but still turned Zazin's' head about on his shoulders, and gave him a decent case of whip-lash. He might have then stumbled for a good few moments, had the Ahgai'Palak's corpse not then immediately slammed into his legs, and put him face-first on the floor, while it passed underneath him.
The entire thing transpired within milliseconds.
When Zazin' regained his senses, he instantly sprung to his feet and looked about...
Only to find that he was mask-less. Evidenced by the warm air of the Hive being felt on his face and mandibles, contrasted sharply by the cool temperature of the rest of his body armor. Not to mention the fact that he was nearly blind.
Like all Yautja, his vision was in Infra-Red. Purely based on temperature, and relegated him to a world of varying shades of red, orange, and yellow. Not effected by light. Technology, such as his Bio-Mask, allowed him to see in differing spectrums. Including one that was specially designed to pick out Kiande Admeha.
As such, around him, he saw nothing but deep, crimson red. He looked down, and saw that he had not lost grip on his Plasma Glaive— seeing a thin line of orange, and a bright yellow blade, near his foot. Out of impulse, he searched about, all around him, looking for his precious Bio-Mask. Behind him, crumpled against the wall, was the corpse of the Royal Guard, an indistinct "blob" of nearly-black red. A much lower temperature than that of the Hive itself. Not too far left of the corpse, also on the floor, was Zazin-Vor'mekta's Bio-Mask.
In two pieces. Twin "shards" of the deepest, blackest shade of red possible.
The force of the Kiande Admeha's tail-blade must have knocked the Bio-Mask off of his face and broken it in two.
Realizing how badly he'd screwed up, Zazin' went into what he affectionately referred to as "Panic Mode". He spun round to face the "crowd" of Serpent underlings that had just seen him kill their sibling-slash-superior, and made sure not to allow them to retaliate. Acting on pure impulse, and dedicating his current efforts towards escape, he stabbed one end of this Plasma Glaive into the floor to suspend it there; he then reached up with his right hand to his Plasma Caster, and reached around his lower back with his left hand to grab one of the Proximity Mines there. The Plasma Caster detached from its mounting-arm and the Mine came free of its leather strap just as a loud cacophony of screams began to erupt from the horde of beasts.
Zazin' pressed the activation button on the Proximity Mine and flung it towards the feet of the first row of Kiande Admeha. As it sailed through the air, he aimed the Plasma Caster just above where the explosive would land, and fired a shell. The Caster's ammunition burst from the weapon's barrel and sailed in a smooth arc, glowing brightly in a yellow light as it briefly illuminated the entire chamber, and quickly intercepted the Proximity Mine just as it was about to land near a Sain'ja's foot.
The two explosives detonated, and everything, for Zazin-Vor'mekta, went yellow, as a fiery explosion erupted and practically cremated all the Serpents within its radius— stretching further down the hallway and causing the entire superstructure to shake. No sooner had the explosion gone off than he had moved the Plasma Caster to his left hand and fired the two remaining shots in its chamber into the orange cloud. This produced two additional flashes of yellow, loud booms, and more screams.
Even before the dust was starting to settle, Zazin' simply yanked his Glaive from the ground, charged forth, and sprinted as fast as his legs allowed him, charging through the blinded and broken bodies of Ahgai'Palak. His boots, though inundated with acidic blood, never stopped moving as he wove a path through the crowd of Serpents. His armor, though struck several times by errant claws and tails, never weighed him down. And he escaped the same way that he'd come.
His reason for running? Aside from not wanting to risk the dishonor of being Hived and Infested, that Bio-Mask was his only means of recording the events that transpired here. His only way to prove that he'd accomplished his task. He'd have to regroup, request a new Bio-Mask, and gather some more equipment before making a second attempt at killing the Queen. Paya knows that the Hive would be especially skittish by the time he tried again, and he would need some extra help.
Once more, concurrently...
"Well... I suppose that I should start at the beginning?", Anteros asked. His head lifted from the bed and angled in Samantha's direction.
She looked off to the left, briefly, before shrugging, saying "whatever's important", and taking a gargantuan bite out of her apple.
Anteros's head plopped back down onto the bedding.
Anteros, if he was honest with himself, had been rehearsing for this moment (or something similar to it) for a good portion of his life. Whenever he was bored, whenever he had time and space to himself, he would recite to himself the various "lines" and phrases that he would use to describe the things he'd lived through, in the Hive. The things he regretted. The things he wanted (or would want) someone to understand. He'd only ever day-dreamed of a moment like this coming about, and had dared not think it a reality. But now— now that the opportunity was here, he found himself... not dissatisfied, but rather... impressed with his own ability to cope. Surprised at how easily all of the practiced "lines" that he'd thought of over his life came to him.
He'd always thought that, if a time like this came, he'd be too excited or too exuberant to conduct himself properly and convey his story in an effective manner. His biggest problem at the moment, though, was figuring out what he wanted to get out of this, and what this would result in. In his fantasies, he would imagine being... "absolved" of his moral quandaries and given... "permission" to chill out and relax. For he always imagined this sort of situation happening between him and a Human being.
He'd never figured out how to start, though...
It was a long time before he decided how to, at least a full minute, as Samantha languidly chewed on her apple.
"My earliest memory...", he suddenly said, not fully knowing where to take the phrase, just yet. He noticed that Samantha stopped chewing when he spoke. She also stiffened a bit. Still jumpy about being talked to in her head.
He eventually continued, "my earliest memories were of... blood, and feeding, comfort and sleeping, and growth...", he spoke slowly, methodically, and with a clear voice.
"I didn't think much at first. Or remember many things. It was all just... instinct and urge", he said. He paid careful attention to Sam's thoughts, in order to capture any nuggets of wisdom. At the moment, all she thought of was "infancy". Of a Newborn. "Chestburster"? Odd.
He continued, waiting for her to swallow and take another bite, "my first proper experiences began with me walking along a tunnel in the Hive, on my way to the Eggchambers. After that, I started remembering everything clearly, for no apparent reason. Just a day and a half after I was born, apparently", he said. "It was like someone or something had removed a hazy filter from my vision and allowed me to see, unhindered".
Samantha took that moment to chime in, mouth full of apple cud, "was that confusing for you?".
Anteros hadn't anticipated the idea that the person he delivered his tale to would ask questions. None that he hadn't actually planned for. He considered her phrasing and her thoughts.
She was imagining a situation in which he were plodding about as though he were half-asleep, but then suddenly became aware of his surroundings and behaved like someone with amnesia. Which was... incongruent... with his experience.
He took a minute to think of a response.
"I... wasn't in a state of mind to feel confusion, at the time...", he told her, neck craning downward to face his head in her direction. "It wasn't so much that I had any epiphanies or revelations. It just sort of... happened. And I didn't question it. Never questioned anything. I did as my instincts bade me". He explained with a voice that bordered on emotionless.
"After that... all I did was... stuff...", he said. This was an intentional use of vague language, to prompt a question from the person he was speaking to.
Samantha... didn't ask one... only stopped chewing for a second or two, thinking of what she knew his species did on a daily basis. Brow furrowed.
Anteros, ever the improviser, kept speaking, "I did as my mother, the Queen, ordered... I went out and scouted around on her behalf... reported what I found... fought...".
Samantha sort of stared at him, her jaw suddenly becoming very methodical in its chewing. She seemed to fully contemplate the idea of Anteros fighting Humans. Killing Humans. It triggered a slight amount of fear. And some anger, as a knot of discomfort formed in her gut.
He ignored it, and proceeded to speak with a hint of dryness, "I was an... obedient child. Did everything I was told. Did everything my instincts told me to. But, no more than a week and a half of that, and eventually... I got bored".
He'd always imagined a quizzical response from "the Human" he'd always imagined this conversation taking place with, but Samantha simply listened quietly, eating her fruit.
"I got bored of doing the same things every day. It was just a... daily grind. Every daily task lost its luster, and none of it proved exciting, after a while", he said, in a plain tone.
Samantha suddenly chewed much faster and swallowed hastily, apparently having a thought. He waited for her to ask her question, though already knew what she was about to say. Her left hand sort of raised up, pointing a finger vaguely upwards, "So... why did you get bored of doing... Xenomorph things... and none of your comrades did?". She ended her question there, but it (in her mind) branched off onto many tangents, like "is it for the same reason why you're weird-looking?", and "what did you do next?".
He took a few moments to figure out how to fluidly answer all concerns.
"I can't rightly say. I don't have a proper answer for you. Every other member of the Hive, all of my Hive-Mates, never seemed to go through the same thing— even those in my Caste, like me. They all... just did the same tasks every day, with the same attitude every time. If I had to come up with a theory...", he pause for a long moment, "... I'd say that... something about me, specifically, makes following orders and fulfilling my instinctual drives... less enjoyable than it is for others. Maybe... maybe there's something off about my brain chemistry that lessens the potency of the chemical highs I get from carrying out those tasks... which... well, the same could be said for my aggression, as well", he explained to her.
"After the end of every battle, I noticed that I was always the first to fully calm down, while my Hive-Mates would remain angry and hopped up on adrenaline. I could never seem to get quite as... enraged as my compatriots, either. It just... never came to me", he said.
"All of this led to me becoming very, very bored. And when I got bored, I sought something to occupy me. There was never anything interesting to be found among my Hive-Mates, and nothing that happened hadn't already happened, before. I was bereft of options. I could sleep or eat or go out and do as my mother said". Anteros was oversimplifying the description, a bit, but the gist was all still there. At this point, Anteros was on a bit of a roll, reciting the things he'd thought of and continued in his fashion.
"The only thing remotely fascinating to me, at that point... were Humans...", Samantha's eyebrow raised at this, "... the only Humans nearby that didn't pose a threat were in the Eggchambers. So... I sat in there, and... watched. Watched the... Hosts... ", he started to slow down a bit, as he suddenly felt a bit awkward. It was one thing to imagine this conversation, but to have it happen in person was a different matter.
He waited. Samantha was silent. She'd stopped eating and was staring at her apple with an empty look. Her thoughts... addled with images of what she imagined being "Hived" was like. She wasn't far off, in spite of all her knowledge on the subject being third or fourth-hand. She started to frown. Started to squirm in her spot, as disgust and discomfort wormed its way throughout her body. It wasn't long before she had a palm on her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose occasionally, with her apple held loosely in her left hand, off to the side.
Apparently, she'd only ever heard stories and legends of what becoming breeding stock for "Xenomorphs" was like, but they were detailed enough to make her lose her appetite. She was actually struggling to swallow the apple mulch in her cheeks, and was attempting not to gag. This continued for a few minutes, with Samantha finally managing to get down the apple, sighing loudly and leaning back against the headboard, sucking in long breaths with her eyes closed. Resisting the urge to upchuck.
Anteros... didn't know what to do. He'd dealt with Human emotional reactions somewhat competently, before, but he'd never known how to tackle disgust and revulsion. And he wasn't certain he could do anything— nothing that wouldn't make it worse, potentially. He would have to get on with his story, at some point, though... He supposed that nothing he did, here, couldn't be reneged with some verbiage.
Anteros's left foot stretched out and lightly touched the Human woman's right knee. Samantha twitched bodily, looking down and staring at the invading extremity, seemingly in some amount of surprise. She had been absorbed in her own little world for a bit, and forgot the current situation. She blinked several times, breath slowing, and followed Anteros's foot up his leg, all the way to his head, which was raised off of the bed and pointed in her direction. He gave off a chuff, head slightly tilting to one side, as if to ask "you alright, love?". Which was what Samantha likened the action to, incidentally.
She closed her eyes, took in another long breath, and sighed as her right hand lifted up to scratch at her own scalp, suddenly appearing to be extremely tired and sheepish. She opened her eyes and spoke.
"I'm sorry. I'm fine. I just... ", she sighed once more, "... I hear the word `Host`, and I just...", she proceeded to shrug and shake her head repeatedly. "I can't help but think of it all". Discreetly placing her apple on the bed near her feet, she then rubbed her temples with her fingers, eyes lidded, never quite making "eye contact" the whole time, "Must be a Pavlovian response or something...", she said, tone regretful, slightly aggravated.
After a long moment, she picked her apple back up, stared at it for a few seconds, then turned it a bit and took a bite. Anteros might have smiled, if he'd had lips. He quickly gave an, "it's not a problem", before his head returned to resting on the bed, and his foot retracted.
The two of them sat quietly for a minute or so, as Anteros collected his thoughts.
He, disguising it as a stretch, abruptly decided to get up. He was made aware of Samantha's wandering thoughts, as she compared the current situation to "a therapist listening to a patient's problems". Anteros... didn't particularly appreciate the image of that, so he chose to place himself in a more active role. He got up, and moved a bit closer to Samantha, sitting on his haunches, and his tail hanging off the end of the bed. She didn't really react.
Anteros found himself suddenly finding it extremely easy to carry on with his tale, now that he was facing Samantha, straight-on. He couldn't tell you why, either, since he didn't need to "look" at someone to see them.
He began, head bobbing up and down as though he were speaking through his mouth.
"Well... as I was saying, I started hanging around the Eggchambers and simply observing the... people there. At first, not much changed or caught my attention. Beyond some of them screaming, a lot of them sleeping, and some mumbling to themselves, nothing changed", he said.
"I might have walked away after the first day, or so, but then I started hearing voices— the people's... voices", he explained.
Samantha frowned, chewing stopping for a moment, with an eyebrow raised skeptically.
Anteros elaborated, "...no— not their literal `voices`, I mean their thoughts".
Samantha... didn't seem to get the picture, and simply stared blankly at him. She wasn't understanding the gravity of what he'd said, and a good portion of her was thinking something along the lines of: "of course you did, you're listening to my thoughts, right now, aren't you".
He spoke, "you have to understand, at the time, this was... unprecedented. It had never happened, before. My Hive-Mates and I always had a mental network and connection to communicate through, but that had never extended to Humans. I was... shocked, at the time— I ran off down a tunnel, at first, because I thought it was some sort of attack...", he said, his voice, for the first time, becoming slightly frantic.
"Eventually, I figured out that I was hearing the people's thoughts, because my brainwaves had adjusted and `focused` onto theirs. Purely because I was around them for longer than two minutes, which... had never really happened, before, believe it or not, he said.
He paused. Samantha understood, and the gears in her head were churning as she thought of where this was going. Her eyes listed off to the right as her brain went into a frenzy, mouth ceasing in its chewing. From what he could hear, she was getting very warm to the logical conclusion.
She addressed him, abruptly, snapping her fingers on the left hand and pointing at him, speaking with her mouth full, "that's how you learned to speak English!", eyes wide, expression serious.
Anteros, nodding once, replied, "correct". He would have smiled, approvingly.
Sam smiled at him, thinking a moment, before asking, "what happened after that?". Clearly curious.
He was getting a bit excited, now, at being able to explain all of this. He said, "every time a person spoke or thought of a word or concept, it would appear in their mind with an associated image. So, I listened closely, and started memorizing patterns. Sure enough, a few hours in, I could put basic sentences together. A day or two after that, I was nearing fluency. And soon... I started speaking to them. Talking to... the Hosts... and that advanced my understanding even further. I spent all of my free time learning and... conversing...", he went silent.
Samantha was utterly enraptured with the story. She waited, not making an attempt to inquire. Simply... absorbed. Anteros carried on...
"But the more I learned, the more... frustrated I got...", he said, slowing down significantly.
The woman squinted, all too eager to ask, "how come?". Not quite grasping that Anteros was trying to get across that what came next was an unpleasant memory for him.
He thought of what to say for a while, before saying, "imagine, if you will, that you were going to die. That you were doomed. That you had no chance of survival, and everything would end, that your life would be over and would end very, very soon...". Samantha swallowed, pausing to look down and thinking, as commanded.
"Now, imagine that you had hours, maybe days to yourself before your time came. Imagine that everything around you was dark and the only sounds you could hear were screams and howls and cries and sobs. That you had nothing but your own thoughts, before your impending death, and that... time crawled onwards while you waited. What would you be thinking of?", he asked, in a tone that wasn't curious, but rather seemed to intend to impose a lesson.
He waited, as her imagination coiled about within her skull, and she tried to think of all the things she might be pondering in that situation. She came to the conclusion, "probably something grim". She was "holding back", in a way— not fully committing to delving into that sort of subject.
Anteros somewhat ignored her internal answer, and waited for a full minute. More so for effect, to compound on the concept that he'd planted in her brain.
"My kind... know nothing of morality... or compassion... or hope, or regret, or sorrow... only rage. Only cheap satisfaction from chemical highs. Only the pull of instinct and drive to propagate. Only of adrenaline... I was much the same...", he paused, again, before continuing, "... when I listened — truly listened — to all of the dreams and hopes and fears and... thoughts of all of those people— all of those hundreds of people, all contemplating death... thinking of their lost loved ones, fearing the afterlife, dreading whether it would be painful, regretting not saying `I love you` to their relatives for one last time, trying their best to remember the faces of their parents, wishing endlessly for a second chance, thinking of choices they should have made, hanging on to small, comforting memories— all scared and anguished and depressed and anxious... it was almost too much for me, at first. So many revelations and epiphanies and paradigm shifts all at once— so much... knowledge and pain and awareness... and guilt...", he ranted.
Samantha was silent. Still absorbed in the tale, though... much more humbled. She looked down, expression blank, and thought of something to say. She was actually a bit stuffed up, a few tears being held back. She, herself, had done a lot of the things he'd listed when her life was threatened. Hearing all of it being described made all of those memories of fearing death come back to her. She hadn't been prepared for something so... profound. She sniffed, and croaked, "... you feel guilty".
The pair sat in silence. Both wanting to make their thoughts and feelings known, and not quite knowing how to go about it. Anteros... was feeling... not quite relieved, just yet, but... close to it. It was done. He'd given his backstory, and his life didn't seem so... insignificant, anymore. Now, another being in the universe knew of his pain, and sympathized. Though, he wasn't done.
"I think... I think that when I listen to a person's thoughts... I end up taking bit of that person into me. A bit of their... memories and inclinations...", he said. Samantha looked up at him, and sniffed, again, "I think that... Human morality— Human... ideals were sort of... branded onto my mind, when everything became apparent, to me, that... It did sort of feel like a burn, at the time. Like a... mental wound...", he finished, tone becoming much more serene.
A pause.
"Or maybe that was just the guilt and regret?", he added, almost too nonchalantly.
Samantha sniffed, rubbed at her nose, taking a deep breath, and sighing. A single tear dropped from her cheek, which she quickly wiped away, as well. She spoke, abruptly, voice cracking a bit, "I'm sorry".
Anteros... would have laughed. He wanted to laugh. A Human being apologizing to a Xenomorph? To him it was... hilarious. So, he did. Not truly— he didn't have the diaphragm for that. But he stilled vocalized it through telepathy, and with an audible chuff. It came across as a light chuckle, which Samantha frowned at. To avoid misunderstanding, Anteros quickly said, "if anything, I should be apologizing to you!".
Sam became abruptly very serious, as she leaned forward, her left hand planting itself on the cover as though she wanted to put it on his shoulder, and her tone become very genuine and urgent, "no really— I... I have sympathy for you. I... understand. I... I...", she seemed to struggle to find the words. Her mouth sort ratcheted open and closed repeatedly as she thought of what to say.
She suddenly laughed, drawing back, getting more emotional, again, "I mean— you made me cry! Just by telling the story!", she pointed out, rubbing at her eye, again, smiling.
Anteros... couldn't argue with that. There wasn't an ounce of scorn to be found in her thoughts. She meant it. He... wasn't expecting that. He thought that she might have had a bit of anger— some amount of bitterness, but no. She was simply... an understanding person. He thought that telling his story would have come with having to prove himself to the person he told it to— have to further substantiate his claims and intentions. But... not at all, apparently. So... that made things easier! He couldn't be more pleased, really. He briefly wondered if he was under-reacting to all of this...
In any case, he would be grateful to her for her... flexibility? Understanding? Leniency.
Anteros, acting while choosing not to think about it too much, stood up to all-fours and took a step forward, bowing his head such that Sam's forehead touched his own. He stayed like that for a few moments, before saying, "thank you".
This time, unlike when he'd previously made contact, Samantha felt no fear. Instead, surprise. She smiled as she leaned into the contact.
Anteros pulled back and sat down where he stood. The two shared a moment, or so, in silence.
"Wait... you said that you can read people's thoughts, right?", Samantha asked, suddenly, with a face that could only come from sudden mortification.
And finally...
Zazin-Vor'mekta sat entirely still on the roof of the metal city, as the sun set on the horizon. It was evening, sunset. The Kiande Admeha Hive would become more active. He was sitting in what an Ooman might call a "lotus position". His breathing completely calm. He'd already sent a message through his Sat-Comp, requesting the pieces of equipment he would need. They'd told him that they'd successfully received the footage lost from the Bio-Mask that had been broken.
He'd been meditating like this, waiting for his delivery, for about thirty Ooman minutes.
His eyes opened, upon hearing the tell-tale roar of an engine. He groaned a bit as he got to his feet, proceeding to perform various stretches, even as a large, cylindrical object fell to earth, a mere ten noks away from him, slamming into the metal plating of the "infinite roof". The noise, undoubtedly, would attract attention.
Time to get to work, Zazin' thought.
(1) Yautja word for "Lurker". Which is meant to be the "Lurker" caste from ALIENS: Colonial Marines. The "Xenomorph" word for it would be "Sentry".
(2) Meaning "Hard-Skull".
(3) Yautja for "Royal Guardian".
What is "IFF Mode" in a Yautja's Bio-Mask, you ask? I got it from "PREDATOR: Concrete Jungle". In the game, it's called "Pred-Tech Mode", and its purpose is to highlight and locate Yautja technology, as well as any power sources that can be used to recharge a Hunter's equipment while on-hunt. It turns the user's vision into varying shades of dark green, while coloring any and all Yautja tech in a bright aqua-turquoise shade. As well as industrial cables, leading to power-conduits, which the player would use to recharge their Energy. Funnily enough, there was also a "Neural" vision mode. In game, it was meant to reveal where a target's loyalties lie. No clue how that works, though.
I also got the "defragmentation Plasma Caster" from "AVP: Evolution", which was a mobile game on iPhone. Decent game, all things considered.
