Hunting Dreams
Chapter 4
"So, those things…" Edwin looked around in confusion. "They just, what, left?"
Isabelle shook her head, "No. The whistle." She was still breathing heavily from the adrenaline. "They were called."
Stans had just about had enough. The crazy bitch, the kidnapping, and all these suicidal idiots. "Just what the hell is going on here?!"
Royce sighed. "We're being hunted. This planet is a game preserve. And we're the game." He put his new clip in the gun and checked it. "In case you weren't paying attention," He nodded to where the girl was still kneeling, indicating her earlier speech on the qualities of the alien species. Then he pointed a finger at the dog. "we just got flushed out." He gestured to their group, then the dead 'dog' on the ground at Nova's feet. "They sent the dogs in, just like you would if you were stalking boar or shooting quail. They split us apart and they watched. Testing us."
It was almost like they could accept it more now that it was coming from Royce than when Nova had made her list of the yautja. After all, she was only a girl; a crazy one at that. Even with the evidence of being on a different planet, why would they believe her ramblings? What did she know? She was only a child.
However, now there was more than enough proof…
Mombasa eyed Royce as if he were just noticing how dangerous the man was. "How do you know this?"
"Because that's what I would do." Royce gave him a small smirk of acknowledgement.
Edwin threw up his hands and gave a half-turn. "Fantastic." The sarcasm was heavy. Then, as if he had only noticed with the turn, frowned. "Wait." He looked again at the group. "There are only seven of us."
+++++HUNTING+DREAMS+++++
As if on cue, there was a loud, deep cry, "Help me!"
Nova heard it first and reacted. Her cheeks still streaked with tear-tracks. But even in her grief, she heard and laser-focused on the cry for assistance. She leaped to her feet and was running before even Isabelle could take a single step. Nova was through hiding what and who she was. She was tired of losing people. The dog was more than enough.
So when the cry came, she took a bare second to pinpoint the direction and took off at full speed.
Isabelle cried out behind her, "Nova, wait for us!" A crash of leaves as the woman followed.
"Let her go. The bitch is crazy." Stans.
Nova ignored them both.
"Help!" Cuchillo yelled again.
Nova changed her direction slightly to better align. Hold on. I'm coming! I can help! There was a patch of overgrown plants: trees, ferns, and bamboo. Or, well, this planet's equivalent.
"Heeelp!"
Nova ground to a halt inches short of a large overly tall grassy area as her ears caught up with what her mind was trying to tell her. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."
"Nova!" Isabelle had caught up to her and grabbed the girl's arm from behind, pulling her a couple steps backward, even farther away from the grassy patch. Nova didn't resist. "Don't run off like that! You'll get yourself killed." She paused as she registered Chucillo sitting facing away from them, and Nova's somber expression. "What is it?" she asked gently.
The others interrupted Nova's response. They came out of the overgrown area almost simultaneously, several with weapons out, ready to defend immediately if necessary. They saw Isabelle, Nova, and then Cuchillo.
The call came again. Deep. Low. "Heeelp."
"I'm so sorry," Nova said again, not taking her eyes away from Cuchillo.
Isabelle frowned in confusion, looking from Cuchillo to Nova, then back. She took a couple steps forward or tried to.
Nova grabbed her by the arm. "No, Isabelle."
"What?" She frowned at her. "What is it?" What did the girl see or hear that was alerting her to the danger?
Royce answered first. "It's a trap," he almost breathed.
The others took a wary step backwards as Nova kept going. "His yells are off. Remember when I said their masks could record and play back sounds? Cuchillo's voice was a third higher than what we're hearing."
Royce glanced at her, then took a rock and threw it at the tall grass. Immediately, there was a metallic swish and disappeared again.
Edwin stepped back. "Fuck me."
"Help."
You could hear the hesitancy and nervous fear as Mombasa spoke next. "Wound one man. Make him suffer. Make him bleed. Make him call out for help. And set a trap, and kill those who come." The others stared at him. "I know because I have done this."
Nova shook her head, and gave a short mirthless laugh. "So they're using your own tactics against you. Poetic."
Stans was on the verge of ready to run again. "So we're going to leave him here, right?" Isabelle looked at him incredulously. "Come on, look at him. He's done." His voice faltered. "There's nothing else we can do, right?"
There was a pause as they all contemplated what they were willing, or weren't willing, to do. In that silence, Nova spoke. "He's already dead," Nova said somberly. They looked at her in amazement. She swallowed. "He hasn't breathed this entire time." She pointed. "Even from here you should be able to see his chest move. It isn't. He's dead. He's been dead. I'm sorry."
"That's what you were apologizing for?" Edwin was astonished. "He was dead before you could do anything about it. You don't even know him. What are you apologizing for?"
Nova deigned to look at him, her tear streaked eyes glaring at him. "All life is sacred."
"Is that what your dear box jellyfish would say?" he countered.
Her glare intensified as she hissed. "Yes."
"If we run, we die," Royce stated, interrupting the stare-down.
"We should wait for the Arbitrator," Nova said, her voice calm and at a reasonable tone. She was trying to push the emotions down. She needed to focus and plan, not panic. The Doctor wasn't here. She didn't have the luxury of going and hiding in the TARDIS. She had to face the music, so to speak. She needed to be calm. Reasonable. Plan. Organize.
In other words, she needed to grow the hell up.
As if to counter her new be-an-adult state of being, Royce simply said, "And how long will it take for them to get here?"
Nova blinked. She hadn't thought of that. "I don't know."
"What's the alternative?" Isabelle asked.
Royce nodded forward. "The dogs ran that way. Species that hunts on different worlds must have a way to get on and off the planet."
"The ship would then be at their camp." Nova followed his logic easily with a nod. "That makes sense."
Before they went more than a few dozen meters, Nova cried out in pain.
"Nova! Are you alright? What's wrong?" Isabelle was at the girl's side shortly, looking her over for wounds. The blood of the dog-like thing was already tacky and getting stiffer. She didn't see anything that appeared fresh. A hand gliding over, or tried to.
Nova bent at the waist and frantically pulled her denim jacket off, out, and away from her chest. When the redhead didn't answer the other fast enough, Isabelle called out to Edwin.
The self-proclaimed doctor came over at a half run, urged by the IDF agent's tone. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know. She just—"
Nova hissed as she finally got her hands on what was hurting her and pulled it out with jerky movements, tossing it on the grass at her feet. "Rassilon above!" She breathed deeply, trying to regain her composure. "I think he's worried, don't you?"
"Who's worried?" Isabelle asked, confused.
Now the whole group was stopped to look at the glowing object. It appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be a very flat wallet. Holding only two pieces of paper, both in clear plastic protectors. One was blank. The other had words in very large angular letters that almost leaped off the page.
WHERE ARE YOU?!
Edwin countered with, "What is that?"
Nova sighed, rubbing her chest where it had literally burned her through the layers of dimensional material. Apparently when he hadn't gotten an immediate answer, the Doctor had kept increasing the power. "Psychic paper. Shows whatever the individual wants. Good for identification stuff on the go that no one will check. Also can send messages, if you know how."
Edwin looked at the golden glow coming from the black not-a-wallet, then at her. "So, this would be the jellyfish? Why didn't he just call your cellphone?"
Nova snorted, a small smirk on her lips. " 'Cause he's eternally losing it. He never answers his phone, even the TARDIS phone." She sighed. "But he'll keep this up until he gets an answer." She knelt and used one finger of her non-dominant hand to touch the surface.
DON'T COME – TRAP!
"What?! Why are you telling him that?" Stans yelled.
"I'd rather deal with a lawyer than a jellyfish," said Edwin.
Stans snorted in disgust, "You haven't met enough fucking lawyers then."
The message blinked off, and the golden glow faded away, beginning to cool. Another took it's place. This one more sedate. Are you safe?
Nova shook her head, amused by the others. The psychic was finally cool enough that she could pick it up again. She peered at his latest message. She sighed.
FOR NOW
+++++HUNTING+DREAMS+++++
Royce was the tracker and led the way. Nova behind him, then Isabelle. The rest followed in two lines. When he raised his hand and made a weird gesture with his fingers, the IDF agent came forward and used the scope on her sniper rifle to peer ahead of them, finally seeing what Royce saw.
"Well?" he asked.
She whispered, "No movement."
He nodded and took point again. As they gradually came out of the woods and into a circular-like clearing, they all got a good look at the 'camp'.
Several small fires were going at various points around. Nova assumed, based on the strategic placement of posts holding skins, that it was some sort of drying or tanning system. There were at least a dozen skins being stretched. She swallowed around the solid lump in her throat.
"Looks like we're not the only things being hunted," Stans commented, eyeing the skinned animals strung up, obviously either cooking or drying for food later. No blood, so they had at least been dead when skinned. That was something.
Nova heard Isabelle take a sharp exhale at a pile of discarded remains, just laid out to gather flies and maggots. She gave the woman a sympathetic smile.
What made the others take more notice, she thought, was the piles and piles and piles of bones. Bones of every variety and from many species. But all of them were cleaned of all meaty bits. There were several complete spines that had been pieced carefully back together of animals she didn't know. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She saw five that were human, complete with mounted skull-
Nova froze.
"What?" Isabelle whispered.
Nova bent and picked up the skull that had caught her attention. The fingers of one hand grazed delicately across the ridges. Small indentations lay atop nodes. She had to swallow hard as she barely touched the four-pronged fangs of the jaw. "We need to leave," she whispered.
Royce didn't even bother to look back at her. Didn't respond in any way. Just kept going down the well-trod path.
Nova trembled, her worst fears confirmed with this particular skull. It had been half buried in the dirt and mud instead of proudly displayed. Showing no regard for its former owner. Showing disgrace and disrespect. Dishonoring the enemy. She clutched the skull to her chest like a shield as she looked around the hunting camp with new eyes.
Instead of piles of trophies, she saw discards. Instead of hung up prey, she saw food. Instead of spines of honored enemies, she saw scoffing displays. Taunts. Dishonor. "We need to leave," she hissed again, fear permeating her voice.
"Nova?" Isabelle asked softly, not wanting to draw undue attention.
"It's not safe here."
"Fucking hell, you crazy bitch!" Stans shook his head. "Of course it's not safe. Ain't you been paying fucking attention?"
Nova shook her head at Stans' words, disregarding them as unimportant. She darted forward toward Royce, who still hadn't stopped. She put a hand on his arm, trying to get him to listen, but he shrugged her off. Not speaking. Making as little noise as possible as he kept going, intent on finding whatever there was to find.
There were tears in her eyes as she saw the human skulls. Dirty. Discarded. Just randomly spaced. The skull of what she thought was a rhinoceros was burning, along with several others she couldn't identify. This was bad. Dirt everywhere. Grime. Piles and piles of bones. Strung bones in columns, displayed but haphazard and dirty.
Then she saw Royce see something ahead of him, and he stopped. Stared.
She went up to his side and peered around him.
Nova gasped in shock and dismayed horror, darting forward before anyone could stop her. Almost leaping to where the still living yautja was being held, his hands and torso roped behind his back and around the largest (and thus strongest) pole in the camp.
He was without armor or weapons. Didn't even have his facial shield. Was he dead?
Nova set down the yautja skull to the side and felt around gently, giving a relieved sigh as she heard him take a ragged breath. She looked back at the others. "See if you can find his mask. There's not enough nitrogen in this atmosphere for him for long like this."
Isabelle blinked at the girl in shock, but after a second she nodded and moved to do as asked.
Nova looked at Mombasa, the largest and strongest of their merry band of warriors. "Help me!" she commanded.
To his credit, he only hesitated slightly before moving to her side. "What can I do?"
She used her chin to point. "Get ready to catch him."
Mombasa nodded. Nova grabbed her sonic screwdriver that was always in the most convenient pocket, ready to use as needed. Just being in the jungle, surrounded by trees and bushes and things, it hadn't been even remotely even possibly helpful up until now. She held it with practiced ease of long use; she telepathically sent the range of utilities that she wanted, then her thumb used the tiny dial to perfect her request. In all, it took less than two seconds to get the item from her pocket, get it to the correct setting, and move it to point strategically at the metal ropes holding the unconscious male prisoner.
The others jumped in surprise at the piercing weird whir of a sonic screwdriver, but she paid them no mind. As soon as the rope broke, Mombasa caught the falling body and set the male gently on the ground, leaning against what he had previously been tied to. "Step back, they're naturally aggressive."
Calling up the few bits of the yautja language she had memorized (rather than her usual of relying on the TARDIS translation circuits, which weren't currently available to her) she said, "Gkaun-yte." Her mouth felt weird as it tried to make the correct sounds.
"What the hell are you doing, you crazy bitch?" Stans muttered, closer to her than she expected.
"I'm greeting him." She tried again, "Yin'tekai sain'ja? Come on, warrior, wake up. We gotta leave." She finished the last bit in English under her breath. She reached out and shook his shoulder. No response. She shook him harder. "Get up!" she hissed, louder. "Ic'jit tauk!" Bad Bloods were here and they had to move!
"Sei-i," the yautja breathed the word on an exhale.
Mombasa and Stans both jerked backward, startled. They honestly hadn't expected any sort of response. The thing looked dead to them, just laying there limp.
Nova could've kissed him in relief. She smiled brightly."D'hi?" she tried next.
The yautja tilted his head just slightly and while she wasn't fluent in yautja facial expressions, even she could tell that he was asking her 'what the hell is that supposed to mean?'
So she wasn't that great at the language. With no TARDIS to help her, she was doing her best!
Nova glanced around. "Isabelle?" she called out quietly. "You find his stuff?"
"Maybe," the woman said, again closer than Nova expected.
Isabelle had apparently taken Nova's previous speech to heart. Her rifle was swung over her shoulder and dangling, barrel down. Her jacket was off, tied around her waist; her green tank-top doing little to hide her breasts. Her hair had been re-braided to come up and over her shoulder. She looked a bit more feminine. She carried a yautja facial shield, a couple weapons, and a mesh covering that she'd found.
The yautja eyed the two nearest him, acknowledging their correct gender with a soft, "Jadhi."
Nova smiled at him and nodded. She dug in another pocket and pulled out a water canteen. Twisting off the cap, she offered it to him. "Jud'ah."
He gave her that same strange look, but took the container and tilted it. He let out a huff. "Ju'dha," he corrected her pronunciation.
Nova resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him. They didn't have the time. Instead, she gestured to Isabelle. "Facial mask first. He's been out in this atmosphere long enough." The woman obediently handed it over. "He needs the nitrogen."
Nova maneuvered it around his head and (what to a human eye appeared to be) dreadlocks. It went on with a click once she found where it connected. He immediately took a deep breath. Then another. Another.
"Chi'ytei?" Nova asked him.
His head tilted. Even with the facial mask firmly in place, she could sense his amusement. Or possibly his bafflement. A slow shake of his head. Whether that was an answer to her question or—
"I don't think he knows what you're asking," Isabelle commented, interrupting Nova's thoughts.
"Lady, none of us fuckin' do!" Stans asked sarcastically.
Which of course drew the warrior's attention. He drew himself to his full height and with a couple fast quick pulls, had his armor back on. (To her credit, Isabelle didn't jump, even though to her is must have been abrupt and shocking at the speed.) A few more jerks and he had his weapons in place. Women weren't a threat to his pride or honor. They were non-combatants and not to be harmed except under the direst of circumstances. Men however…
Nova frowned though when she saw what was clearly absent from his arsenal. A glance confirmed there was nothing else in Isabelle's hands. "Sain'ja?" she got his attention and pointed to where a shoulder-mount should have been. Trying to get her point across even with the language barrier.
His head gave one sharp jerk to the side. "M'di."
"Crap," Nova swore.
Royce barely whispered, "What?"
"No plasmacaster." He had his wristguard (with corresponding electronics and the wristblades presumably) several knives, a bola, a netgun, and two combisticks, but that was all.
His head tilted again as he looked her up and down. He looked at the others. "Ooman." Then looked back at her. "M'di ooman." It was a statement, not a question.
She winced. "Sei-i."
"Can't you ever fuckin' speak English, you crazy fuckin' bitch?" Stans half yelled at them.
Nova jerked away, startled. The yautja turned his body to shield her slightly and gave a deep rumbling growl. Nova shook her head, putting a barely-there hand on the male's bicep. "He's not hurting me." She sighed and tried to explain. "Mei'i m'di hah'dlakh ooman." She wasn't afraid of the humans here –well, most of them. No, she was worried about far worse than humans.
As if to prove her point, there was a soft whine off to their left. Then their right. And Nova paled when she saw three red dots in a triangular pattern appear on Stans chest. "Down!" she screamed.