Lex sat in the pilot seat, eyes trained on the screen, where the blue green bulk of U'amea loomed larger by the second. Sek'Met sat in the co-pilot's chair to her right. They were alone in the cockpit. Scar had gone to strap down Jah'Di'Tou, ready for landing. Lex's mind kept flitting back to her boys, but she sensed the lieutenant's quiet animosity. It hung in the air like smoke.

A grinding shudder, like the tremor of an earthquake, shook the cockpit, as the ship pierced the planet's atmosphere. Scar appeared in the doorway, "Jah'Di'Tou is secured, but we should secure ourselves."

Lex had already pulled the safety harness across her chest as he hauled himself into the second co-pilot's chair.

"I still can't detect them with our sensors," She told him, "But I have tracked their flight path and I think I can land us pretty near their location – within a few clicks at most."

"That should be… enough."

The shaking in the cockpit intensified as they hurtled down through the layers of the stratosphere. Alerts began to flash on the console, showing a malfunction first with one thruster and then a second. Lex gripped the steering column hard and Scar put one arm out to grasp the console, but the lieutenant sat bolt upright, her hands clutching the arms of the chair.

"The engines are failing," She snarled, "We are going to die."

"Not this day." Scar lunged forward and pressed a control to activate the auxiliary power, boosting the failing thrusters. The gauge surged upwards, the roar of the engines booming in the already shaking cockpit, "This is not normal… turbulence." He said, "We must have… hit an electrical storm."

"I've lost visual,"She gritted her teeth, keeping a tight grip on the steering column, "The sensors have stopped working. I can follow their descent but – "

"Just keep going down – we will emerge from the clouds soon enough," He forced his head round to look at her, "Out of one gods-forsaken shithole… and plunged straight into another. Same as ever… eh, demon?"

She laughed, in spite of herself, "Why did the twins have to crash in the middle of a storm?"

His features crazed into a grin, "To remind us that we are… alive!"

"I don't need any reminders." She was pinned against the seat now, the g-forces thrusting her backwards, adrenalin pounding as she fought to keep her hold on the steering column, "Let's just hope we're still alive when we land!"

Sek'Met's eyes flicked between Scar's glowing eyes and spread jaws and Lex's black, dilated pupils, "You are both completely insane!"

Spyrro stared at the older girl, jaws opening and closing without words. A sickening shiver ran through her at hearing the truth spoken out loud, but even knowing what she knew now, she could not force herself to speak a lie. She had spent so long trying to claim she was fully yautja, not realising that all the while she was denying Mei'Varsi. Now Spyrro missed her Mother so much, she didn't want to deny her anymore, not even if it cost her life.

"Yes." She said, "I am her daughter."

Ito's expression did not change. Obviously, Spyrro was telling her nothing she didn't know, "So… you are like U'daraje's sons; half ooman?"

Spyrro kept her head up. Now that she had finally admitted the truth, she wasn't going to pretend to be sad about it, "That does not make me weak. My brothers are both strong, like me. And my Mother is the bravest, the cleverest…" She tailed off, the enormity of the truth hitting her like a meteorite strike.

"She is the best of Mothers." She said, "The best of all females."

Ito's brows twisted, "She is an ooman and a witch."

"Stop calling her that!" Spyrro's hands balled into fists, "She is Sain'Ja, she is blooded. She is a female and a warrior just like all of you!"

Ito watched her, saying nothing and Spyrro's temper flared, "Go," She snarled "Go and tell Xala and the GhaRan-S'i-Ka – go and tell them all about me!"

"You do not know the GhaRan-S'i-Ka as I do." Ito said, quietly, "If I tell her, if anyone were to tell her – "

"She will kill me."

"You say it, but you do not believe it."

"I saw it," Spyrro snapped, "That trophy wall of hers, with the ooman skulls."

She waited, expecting Ito to go and fetch Xala or even the GhaRan-S'i-Ka but the other did not move, "Well?" Spyrro said, "Go on, then."

"Spyrro – "

"Run off and tell her. I am sure the old bitch will reward you!"

"I have certainly seen her kill with less cause." Ito said, her voice flat.

"I am just a Hellspawn," Spyrro rubbed the back of her hand across her face, her voice getting louder as her temper began to boil over, "Just the offspring of a witch and a criminal – so what are you waiting for?"

"I cannot explain." Ito paused, seeming to think, "You are a trial to me – ever since you came onboard this ship, you have been troublesome and you are so strange… but… you are yourself."

Ito's jaws bent into a rare smile and Spyrro stared at her, puzzled, her scowl faltering, waiting for the girl to go on.

"No, I cannot do it." Ito said, at last, "Not to one I have sworn to protect. Xala tasked me with guarding you. Whoever's child you are, I would not see you hurt."

She reached out and gripped Spyrro's wrist, making her jump. This was the most emotion she had ever seen Ito display and it both pleased and frightened her; it was good to know the older girl would not betray her but the urgency in her tone was unnerving, "Spyrro, you must get far away from here." She said, "If I have seen these things, it cannot be long before others notice them too and they will tell the GhaRan-S'i-Ka."

Spyrro seized Ito's hands in her own, "You will let me go and find my family? You will not try to stop me?"

"You will not make it alone, I will help you." She stood up, dragging Spyrro up with her, "Come. We must waste no more time!"

Halkrath finished sealing the last plate over the breach in the Chameleon's hull and sat back on his haunches. He didn't know if the botched repair job – the best he had been able to manage with the tools and materials he had at his disposal – would be enough to fix the stealth unit, but he prayed the gods would reward his efforts. He did not dare to open the unit itself without considerably more sophisticated equipment, "Black holes are unpredictable, no matter how miniscule. And with so many together in one place…"

He retreated to the cockpit, absent-mindedly brushing the grey dust off his armour plating, and seated himself in the pilot seat. Pulling off his mask, he tapped the controls, waking up the ship. Then, he tapped control to activate the sensors but – as before – they gave no intelligible reading. Halkrath frowned and rubbed his jaws with his grimy talons. He had done his best to clear away the coating of greasy ash they had picked up during their descent through the atmosphere but he knew he wouldn't be able to completely eradicate it while they remained here, 'The tree canopy will protect the vessel to a limited degree but even down here, there is still particulate matter in the air. Enough so that I must keep my mask on outside…hrmmmm…'

He swiped a talon over the controls for the stealth generator and held in his breath; the tranquil blue of stealth mode fluttered into being for a few beats, then flickered and died. Halkrath's brows drew down, "The chemicals in the atmosphere must be affecting our technology, perhaps more so even than I predicted. I do not think I can fix it while we remain here."

Next, he touched the control for the engines, thinking that if the stealth generator was out of the question at least he could ensure their ability to take off. The power gauge leapt up obediently under his talons and the turbines hummed into life. He nodded to himself, not wanting to take the engines to the next stage. He did not want to risk taking off, even to go in search of the others; the high levels of ash and dust in the atmosphere would likely damage the engines again. He imagined the ship might be able to make it up and burst free of the planet's gravity but they might only get one chance to do so without the engines failing again. There was also the risk that he might accidentally ignite the jungle around him, coated as it was in flammable chemicals. A blazing conflagration would be a homing beacon for any hostile parties in the area.

Not that he was afraid. Halkrath could fight well enough – any Rough Skull who couldn't defend himself was a walking corpse – but his attention only shone in one direction. Something else was driving him; the need to ensure they could escape this planet. He wasn't overly troubled by attachment to individual clan members. Halkrath considered Rika and Varrik his allies but he rarely engaged emotionally with anything other than his research. Right now, his one shining objective was to preserve the lives of the two hybrids, the ones who called themselves S'Kia's sons, "I could not allow them to stay here where they might be at risk. I must trust those of the warrior caste to safeguard them – for now – but the ultimate goal must be to get them away from here, so that I may continue my study…"

His talons flexed with frustration; a yautja-human hybrid! Before he had seen them with his own eyes, he would never have considered such a thing possible. Now he knew differently – what other impossible things could those juveniles hold a key to?

He could see for himself that they exhibited the genetic traits of both S'Kia and Lex and this puzzled him, 'How did they achieve this? A scientific process or, as that fool Varrik seems to think, a more basic method?'

Halkrath drummed his talons on the console. 'S'Kia was always an iconoclast – half a lunatic – and Lex…'

Halkrath had been granted breeding privileges in the past and he knew the allure of female bodies. He was not attracted to the ooman female – the idea was strange to him – but S'Kia's badly concealed partiality for her had been grist to the clan's rumour mill for many cycles, 'Lex is cunning. Who knows what she may have seduced him into… or what he may have dared in his recklessness.'

It was a thought both sacrilegious and fascinating, but Halkrath shook his head, "It is immaterial – whatever the truth of the hybrids' conception, I must preserve them alive and that means getting this ship to function. The stealth unit is not viable, so I will focus on the engines. Perhaps if I change the combustion rate – make the thrusters burn hotter – that may vaporise any chemicals or particulates before they have the chance to impede velocity."

With a sigh, he picked up his tools and headed down to the hold; the place where he could gain access to the engines, 'S'Kia has made some modifications to these engines, they seem to be functioning well – though they are old.' He thought with grudging admiration, and then a thought struck him, 'Or was it the hybrid – Isaac – who did this? If so, maybe he is as talented as his brother claims.'

He was so absorbed in his task, that he did not notice the units tick by. At last, he sat back and regarded his handiwork, "It seems functional – but no real way to test it until take-off."

He stiffened, his body going rigid as some instinct snagged his subconscious reflexes. Silently he stowed his tools and climbed through the service hatch and onto the deck. In the ship, all was dark. Halkrath extended his blades and pressed a control on his gauntlet, his shoulder cannon whirring into life. Then he opened the airlock and stepped cautiously outside. Flakes of ash fell like grey feathers all around him, the jungle unnaturally quiet. Something triggered a tingle up his back – a breath of air above him where there should only have been stillness. Halkrath whirled around, firing wildly above the ship and into the treetops. Something smashed into the top of his head and then a pulverising blow hit the side of his face. Blood splattered across the flank of the Chameleon in a glowing, green arc.

"Keep your eyes open, brother." Selim breathed, next to him.

Isaac forced his lids apart. Selim might be able to conceal his fear behind a front of yautja indifference, but Isaac wasn't sure he could do the same. He was glad his mask hid what he knew must be his own grimace of terror. His gaze kept sneaking furtively back to the awful thing at the centre of the clearing; the way the charred limbs contorted like twisted, black vines. Isaac tried to imagine what it must be like to see your skin blister and smell your flesh cooking…

He shivered and looked around again.

"Varrik," He hissed, "What are the D'AKavvar?"

"D'AKv'var." The captain corrected him.

Isaac said nothing, too on edge even to be irritated.

Varrik continued, "I know only dark rumours. They are said to be an outlaw tribe – perhaps Bad Blood renegades – that skulk around the fringes of Rough Skull space."

Isaac swallowed, "They burn and … cut up their captives?"

"So it is said." Varrik was silent for a moment, but Isaac sensed there was more he wasn't saying.

"D'AKv'var." Selim's voice was hoarse, next to Isaac's ear, "I do not understand this word."

"It their dialect." Varriksaid, his voice low, "It means Flesh Eaters."

His twin breathed, "Do you mean D'Kainde'var?"

"Not 'meat' eaters." Varrik's voice was a growl, "Meat is what you get from prey. The flesh they eat… is ours."

Isaac felt numb all of a sudden. He looked again at the gritty, black bone in Selim's hand, his mind's eye seeing the grooves and notches all along it.

"Teeth," He said, feeling light-headed, "Those marks were made by teeth."

He could almost hear the scrape of fangs against bone. The thought sent a marrow-deep shudder through him. There was a rushing sound in his ears, and his stomach lurched. He looked at the silent, ghost-grey jungle, his imagination populating the shadows with an army of devils. He moved forward cautiously towards the dismembered shapes around them. The nearest one had a mass of raw, torn flesh where his arm should be, his remaining arm pinioned above his head, chin sunk on his chest. Isaac crouched low, wanting to get a look at his face.

Behind him, Selim said, "This changes nothing."

"Are you kidding? This changes everything!" Isaac turned, his twin still had the blackened stick (it was better to think of it as a stick) gripped tight in his fist.

"We make for the ridge." His brother said, grimly, "We meet with Halkrath and my parents will find us."

Varrik snorted, "Unless they are incinerated… or worse."

"That will not happen." Selim shook his head, "They will not be stopped. They will come."

"We should leave." Rika stood up, wiping his hand on his thigh, leaving black smears of soot on the sandy skin, "We have stayed too long, already."

Varrik nodded and touched the control on his wristcom, but nothing happened, "My camouflage unit is still not functioning."

Selim stared at him for a moment and then hit his own switch, with no result.

Clammy waves of fear were swarming over Isaac's skin as he touched the control on his own wristcom again. The wet crackle and fizzle told him everything he needed to know, "The chemicals in the air must have killed the stealth units." He hissed, "Selim, we have to get out of here. This place – "

Before anyone could answer, a noise like the moaning of the wind reverberated by his ear. Isaac leapt back, blades drawn, and swung towards the sound. To his unending horror, the mutilated body next to him shuddered and gave a rasping breath. Before he could think, Selim had darted forward, putting a hand to the forehead, lifting the hanging head, "You are alive? Can you hear me?"

A desiccated sound came from the creature's throat, "Givvve…" It croaked.

"Water." Selim snapped impatient fingers at the rest of them, "Now!"

Rika handed him a water canteen and Selim raised it and poured a steady trickle into the gaping jaws. The bleared eyes rolled.

"Give… me…"

"We will free you," Selim said, and Isaac was amazed that his brother's voice didn't shake,

"Varrik, you hold him while I cut him down."

"No…" The voice gurgled.

Selim used both hands to hold up the heavy head, "Give you what?" He said, softly, "What do you want?"

"…. deathhhhh…"

A metallic shriek echoed round the clearing as Varrik unsheathed his blades, "Out of my way, boy."

"No!" Selim spat over his shoulder, "We must save him."

"A clan brother asks for death."

Selim gently lowered the stricken male's head and turned, but he did not extend his own blades, "No."

Varrik stepped up to him, "I do not expect you to understand."

Rika hissed sharply, "Let Varrik kill him, then we must – "

At that moment, a sound seeped out of the darkness, sending a dart of ice into Isaac's spine. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere; a chittering, as if a swarm of insects were filling the air all around them. At once, the two Rough Skulls spun round, Rika unsheathing the dah'kte, shoulder cannons whirring into life. Out of the thick darkness, a shape appeared between the sentinel trees. It was tall – taller than any yautja Isaac had ever seen. Taller even than S'Kia. Huge and monstrous, it stepped forward into the clearing.

"Run." Rika said it quietly, his head never turning from the huge figure.

Selim shook his head, "We can – "

"No. They are all around usss."

Isaac looked round and saw that Rika was right, more shapes were emerging like bloodstains in the red dark, ranged around the wall that encircled the clearing.

"I did not bring you here to die – go!"

With an ear-splitting roar, Rika launched himself at the giant figure, Varrik attacking at the same moment, both of their shoulder cannons spitting white hot sparks.

Something with blades whirred past Isaac's face, so close the a hot breeze of it fanned his skin and he leaped at the barrier of branches and roots that circled the clearing, towards the one unguarded point he could see. Selim's feet hit the wood at the same moment, scaling the wall like a cat, claws biting into the wet bark, defying gravity, a barrage of burning plasma bursting just at Isaac's heels. There was a burst of light behind him and a roar – of pain or rage – he didn't know. A shape loomed up on the right and Selim swung his wristblades. It reeled backwards in a spray of hot blood, Isaac slashing another in the neck as he cleared the wall. He landed in the branches beyond and sprang forwards, bulleting into the jungle, leaping up and up into the trees and then on to the next tree and the next and the next, never pausing in his headlong flight, caring only that Selim kept pace with him. He did not think about Rika or Varrik, he only knew he was racing on and on, everything flashing past in a blur of terror.

Happy New Year to all my readers! Here's hoping you had some kind of break over the festive season and that you enjoyed it, whatever you got up to. I am listening to music as gales blow and rain lashes outside, you can tell it's January.

Hope you're enjoying the story. If you are please follow, favourite and review - as ever.

Special thanks to my reviewers!

lexia the beautiful wolf: One step closer to ending the suspension - they're almost on the cannibal murder planet, something for them to look forward to!

LovyDovy7: Isaac is definitely the dirty fighter of the two brothers, Selim's much more honourable. He's also more reasonable but he can can go over the edge when he's pushed too far. And Scar and Lex don't trust anybody except each other right now, they've been captured and double crossed by almost everyone they know. Spyrro's the one I feel most sorry for, being on her own - poor kiddo.

Miko Uchi Queen - Christmas where you are sounds pretty amazing. It's not half so exciting here - much more staying home, watching tv etc. Glad you're enjoying reading Scar and Lex - they are more fun to write now they've patched things up. The mutilated Rough Skull bodies on U'amea aren't Scar's handiwork though. The bodies he left there were D'AKv'var, the ones his sons have found are unlucky Rough Skulls who fell victim to the D'AKv'var.

Tenjp: Happy New Year! No, the GhaRan-S'i-Ka (and the female side of the clan) believes Spyrro is pure yautja, that's why she wants her. It's also why Lex and Scar lied to her and said he had betrayed Lex with another female. They don't want her to figure out Spyrro's a hybrid. Also they are just... so... close... to the planet.