The brothers crouched, concealed in the branches of a huge tree. They were looking up at the rockface that rose in front of them, looming up out of the jungle, clearly the product of volcanic activity. Its black sides were steep and glassy in some places where the lava must have flowed down and cooled, but in others the rock had splintered and was cracking into odd shapes. Flakes of ash drifted down onto their upturned masks.

"I say we climb," Isaac whispered, "We can hole up here until Halkrath or someone else gets here."

"For how long?" Selim shook his head, "Halkrath might be dead and how will Mei'Savir and Mei'Varsi find us if all of their sensory equipment is inoperative?"

"We can wait it out," Isaac protested, "If we get up high, we'll be able to see 'em coming."

He fell silent. The sound of voices was drawing nearer. Both boys pressed themselves backwards against the tree's huge trunk, hoping against hope to stay hidden among the tangle of branches, just as a trio of shadows appeared on the other side of the water.

"Where is Un'Var?" Said one of the party, "He was behind us."

The other two laughed, their buzzing, droning voices drifting upwards like a plague of locusts on the breeze, "Gone to try and capture the brats single-handed, I do not doubt!" Hissed one.

"He is greedy," Jeered another, "And a lecher – "

"Probably eager to get them all to himself!"

"Come on!" Snarled the first voice, "He is probably enjoying their tender flesh somewhere. Let us forget him and go back for the two they already caught, before there is nothing left for us."

They turned and went back through the trees, still calling down filthy insults on their comrade for enjoying himself without them. When silence had flowed back around them, the two boys looked at each other.

"Sel," Isaac said, "Let's go."

"We cannot."Selim said.

"Sel – "

"We cannot!" Selim hissed, in yautja, "Did you not hear them, Ize? They wanted to eat us, but instead they are going to eat Varrik and Rika."

Isaac stared at his twin, "And we should risk our lives for S'Kia's old cronies? A week ago, we didn't even know their names!"

"And they did not know us but they were still willing to give up their lives to save ours." Selim said.

"But Selim, we got lucky with that last guy. We can't take on the rest of them, head on!"

"We cannot abandon them, Ize."

Isaac heard the finality in his twin's voice. He knew Selim would not relent, but worse than that, Selim knew he knew it.

"I am not asking you to come with me Ize," His brother said, "But I am going back for Rika and Varrik – "

"No wait!" Isaac clutched his brother's arm to stop him, "Let's get these motherfuckers first – then go back for Rika and Varrik. Divide and conquer?"

"But we need not go charging in with no plan." Selim said, "Remember when we fought the Queen?"

"Took her down though, didn't we?"

"Down to the underworld forever." Selim nodded, "Just like Un'Var."

"You realise we're gonna get wiped out?" Isaac rubbed the back of his skull.

"We are not going to die," Selim shook his head, "They are."

"I sure hope you're right," Isaac hefted the waterproof bag, stuffed full of S'Kia's pirate weapons, "We could sneak up on them in the tree canopy, drop a couple of these on their heads and blow them all to hell?"

"We would need to drop several bombs on them to be sure of killing them all," Selim said, "And we would risk blowing ourselves up too."

"Well if we gotta go," Isaac shrugged, "Let's take as many of them with us as possible!"

"Your plan might work, with a slight modification." Selim tapped a talon on the side of his mask for a moment, then he took a couple of blackout bombs from the bag and slipped them into one of his ammo pouches, "Ize, you get up on the westernmost side of the ridge, there." He pointed a talon to where a torrent of petrified lava was frozen in mid flow, right in the middle of the ridge.

"Wait for me there and have the explosives ready." Selim said, "I will attract their attention, and then lead them back to where you are."

"What if they catch you?"

"I shall make sure they do not."

"But that's nuts!" Isaac protested, "They have projectiles and guns – they'll just shoot you down! You'll be a sitting duck – you won't be able to get to the top before they hit you."

"Their guns I can deal with." Selim patted the blackout bombs, "But I do not need to climb. When they arrive, they will see me, already at the top of the ridge."

"See you at the top…?"

"The light is fading," Selim extended his claws towards the ridge, "In this half-dusk and at a distance, they will not be able to tell us apart. If you are at the top of the ridge already, they will think it is me and give chase. By the time they realise their mistake, it will already be too late – and you can spring the trap on them."

"But what will you do?"

"I will hide in the undergrowth – while you kill them."

"Ok, Sel, I'll do what you say." He grasped his twin's shoulder.

"Half-human, half-yautja…" Selim said.

For once, Isaac couldn't finish the motto, "Sel," He said, "Just… don't fuck it up."

Selim released him, then he turned and leapt to the next tree, the gloom of the forest quickly swallowing him up. Isaac drew in a deep breath and laid his talons on the forbidding, black stone.

Varrik's eyelids peeled apart and, at once, he wished they had not. Somehow, he had lost his mask and the atmosphere stung like acid. His arms were a network of agony, burning stars of pain pinioning his arms. A blur of metal visors floated before his watering eyes, but they merged horribly with the dead faces that hung around them. He couldn't tell what was real. Somewhere nearby, a fire was throwing out light and the heat, distorting everything. Somewhere in this warping nightmare, he recognised the heavy brows and sandy skin of Rika, the side of his face painted with blood splatter, arms above his head and bound like his own.

"Rika?" He croaked.

A shadow loomed in front of him holding a glowing blade and the side of his face detonated in agony. Varrik could smell nothing through the miasma of sulphur but he heard the sizzle of his own flesh. He did not make a noise, but everything swam away from him. He didn't know how long it took for him to surface again but now everything was darker. One side of his face was numb, he could not feel it. The other resonated with some sensation he could not understand.

"We have you now, Abomination." Droned a voice.

The breath of the other's speech sent pain licking along Varrik's skin like tongues of flame, but at least the agony snapped him back to reality. His eyes focused on a visor, studded with spikes of bone and spurs of tooth.

"I am not the Abomination." He said, "I am a captain… of the Rough Skulls."

"An un-likely story." The D'AKv'Var seized his jaw, the talon sticking agonisingly to the wet, burned flesh, "We saw the two brats you brought with you – "

"Rough Skull juveniles." Rika'a voice came from somewhere Varrik could not see.

The visor turned to look at him, "Such little ones are not worth your interest," Rika continued, "Or do you fear children as well as rumours?"

"Oh, we know more than rumours." Their tormentor said, like a buzzing chant in Varrik's head, "Two male juveniles, identical in every point, dressed as yautja but with the sly cunning of the soft-meat. Dark of skin, just like the evil bitch who bore them. The ones you are too cowardly to admit."

"You know nothing!" Varrik spat.

The D'AKv'Var didn't turn, "We know better than you, clan slave;" He said, "Hiding on your giant ships, closing your eyes and ears, telling each other children's tales of honour."

"What would you know of honour?" Varrik spoke slowly, as if to an idiot, "You dare not face us except by ambush. You hunt juveniles – "

"Do those misconceived little brats mean something to you, hrrrm?" Their tormentor swung round to him, "You are the Abomination – admit it! We have hunted you for long years. We know your shame. You succumbed to the ooman sorceress and she spewed your freakish offspring into the world like poison."

"How dare you!" Varrik jerked his head away.

The other brought his face close to Varrik's ear with a snicker like the buzzing of insects, "I know your misconceived bastards cannot leave this planet. The volcano will trap them here. I promise you will see me dismember them, U'darahje."

"I am not U'darahje."

The other laughed and raucous noise erupted around them. Varrik couldn't clearly see the others except as hazy shapes but he heard their laughter, "Perhaps not," Purred their captor,"But whoever you may be, no reinforcements are coming to your aid."

"Then why do you stink of fear?" Varrik hissed, "You hunted U'darahje but never caught him."

"We do not fear him!" Their captor hefted the knife in his big hand, bringing his face so close, Varrik's harsh breaths misted the front of his mask, "Our magic is stronger. When we eat of our enemy's flesh, we take his power. We will devour both the Abomination and his witch, then all their power will belong to us."

"You failed to kill him!" Varrik laughed, the sound bursting from his jaws, "You failed to kill him and now he is coming for you."

The D'Kv'Var gave a long, clattering growl and slammed the long blade into Varrik's wrist, impaling him – pinning his hand to the twisted branches. Sickening shards of pain raced down Varrik's arms, a network of agony spreading through him like a toxin. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to stay conscious.

"Let U'darahje come. He will suffer for skinning my comrades," Snarled the Flesh eater, "He will be trapped here with us."

"No." Varrik forced the word out through jaws clenched in pain, "You will be trapped here with him."

Spyrro rolled onto her side and coughed, causing a sharp stab of agony to shoot through her. The deck beneath her shuddered, not the illusion of movement caused by wooziness but the grinding and shaking of a real take-off. She groaned and looked around for a way out. The outline of a door was visible in the dim light and she crawled towards it, wincing as more pain rippled through her side. Hauling herself to her feet, she groped for a control to open it but could not find one.

After a moment she turned her back to the door and looked around. Her light sensitive eyes told her that she was alone in this bare cell, 'Ito must be in a different cell. I wish she was here…'

Slumping backwards against the door she slid down it, until she was a little puddle on the floor. She stared down at her hands that lay in her lap, 'I tried and tried to help Ito, just like I tried to save Mei'Savir and Mei'Varsi, but I could not do it. Now I do not even know where they are taking me. I can never do anything right!'

Spyrro pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them tight, ignoring the pain as she curled in on herself. The GhaRan-S'i-Ka had said something important. She screwed her eyes tight shut and a thought lit up the darkness behind her eyelids, 'She was talking about Mei'Savir, something about taking me to him.'

The words were jumbled in her memory, fading in and out of hearing over the ringing that had been in her ears, but now she felt a tiny spark of hope. Maybe the GhaRan-S'i-Ka had gotten tired of her and decided she was going to return her to her Father and her Mother? 'But surely the old monster was not going to do that.' She thought 'She wants to kill my family. She has said so many times…'

Spyrro wrung her hands together, the thought of seeing her parents again filled her with a longing sharper than the pain in her side. If only she could be with them, she knew everything would be alright. They might perhaps be angry with her, but she would risk any amount of scolding just to feel safe and protected in their arms. She remembered times when Mei'Varsi had kissed her or held her, and what had she done? She had complained, or tried to wriggle free. Tears stung her eyes, but she no longer tried to hold them back, 'Even if they are a sign of weakness, I do not care,' She rested her head on her arms and let them fall, the warm tracks of them dripping onto her bruised skin, 'Even if I never become a warrior, even if I have no yautja honour: I want my Mother!'

She choked out little sobs into the silence, her shoulders shaking. When the storm of crying blew out, she sat, staring into darkness without seeing, 'If she does take me to where they are, at least I will have a chance to get back to them.'

Spyrro raised her head and her black eyes gleamed; photo-reflective pupils shimmering green and red for an instant, 'I must be calm and not let them know.' She thought, 'I must not let them see.'

Heavy footsteps thudded outside the door and she became very still, 'I will await my chance. Whatever the GhaRan-S'i-Ka says, I will be free.'

Selim vaulted from branch to branch, flying through the treetops, the sound of the voices closer with every second. Smoke was curling up in the distance, further down the valley, back the way they'd come. Selim felt in his marrow it must be coming from that awful clearing and the thought made his stomach feel as if it were filled with lead. With his mask on he could not tell whether the smoke carried the reek of burning flesh.

He slunk along the branch silently, hoping he was too high up in the canopy for the enemy to see him. A red light flashed under him and he hurled himself into the shadow of a giant tree trunk. Pressing himself against it, he listened to the sound of the harsh, buzzing voices and checked his own plasma cannon. Isaac had said that if he was high up enough, the deadener would not affect its function. The voices had stopped moving and Selim risked a glance downwards. They were right underneath him now, the drone of their speech drifting up to him through the greasy air.

"Nowhere," Said one, "How could those misbegotten whelps have escaped detection?"

"They are the children of a witch," Said another, "Perhaps they share her shadow magic."

"Spells and cursssses!" Scoffed the other, "You should not listen to Sihir's babble."

"And still, no Un'Var." Said the first, "Probably taking his time over the witches brats."

The magic-believer snorted, "Or they are taking their time over him."

"You are a snivelling weakling, Arakte." Sneered the sceptic, "What can such children do to us?"

Up in the trees, Selim's talons tightened on the deadener.

"They can steal your soul and turn you into an undead slave, just as the witch did to U'darahje." The one called Arakte retorted, "They say that is why he cannot be killed."

"Skin them," Purred the sceptic, "Their flesh will cook just as easy as non-witches when they are peeled and jointed…"

Selim closed his eyes and recited a silent plea to his Father's dark goddess, 'Soul Eater, make me the instrument of your vengeance. Give me strength, that I may protect my brother and my comrades.'

Opening his eyes, he pressed the switch on the blackout bomb, choosing a countdown of just ten seconds. The yautja numerals on the display begin to tick down and he waited, not breathing as the moments trickled past, holding the bomb out at arms' length, over the heads of the three yautja who were so casually describing the horrible things they meant to do to him. As the last seconds ebbed by, his heart not beating at all, he let go.

Selim watched, eye following the bomb as it plummeted towards the forest floor, turning over and over, unbearably slow. Below, the magic believer's head snapped upwards, masked face jerking towards the rapid movement of the falling objects – too late! The bombs detonated before they hit the ground, emitting a powerful energy pulse that he felt even way up on the treetops. The yautja below yowled as their mask displays and targeting systems crackled and died.

A snort, part hysteria and part terror, burst out of Selim, he couldn't help it. He'd been wound so tight, for so long - the tension in his chest, in his limbs, in his head – had become almost unbearable, "Come on, you cowardly bug fuckers!" He screamed, almost unable to get the words out.

All three faces turned upwards, spitting out filthy curses in their own language and Selim caught his breath, feeling almost as if he might vomit as the blank masks swivelled to look at him.

Something whirred upwards and Selim sprang away, a throwing blade hitting the branch where he had been perching seconds before. He didn't bother looking back but leapt like a jaguar, stretching out his arms with claws extended, hitting the next branch and launching himself immediately to the next one. Grinning at the enraged bellows, pursued by cries of fury, Selim bulleted into the gathering night.

Scar halted by a towering black trunk and squinted into the dank, vegetable twilight ahead, lifting one hand to adjust the display on his mask.

"What is it?" Said a quiet voice by his ear.

Lex had come up behind him. Scar held up one hand, still listening, peering into the dark. Even his eyes could see little through this veil of falling ash, which was interfering with his mask's sensors as well. His mask and his hand were both blotched with flecks of grey ash. He wiped his hand on his leg, cleared the visor and tried again, but it was no use. Visibility was bad and getting worse with night approaching.

He had been keen to scout ahead, partly from a desire not to risk infecting the other Rough Skulls, but because his own fear for his sons was becoming an unbearable pain, thudding in his brain.

Every time he stopped moving, the pictures in his head jolted him forward again. Scar had seen the D'Kv'Var's gruesome handiwork the last time they had been on U'amea. He was accustomed to bloodshed, but the experience had left him with a deep and abiding desire not to return to this planet again. Now he had been forced to come back. Now, he kept seeing those loathsome images, but with his own sons as the victims: eyes hammered backwards into their sockets by plugs of bone, skins cut jaggedly and peeled away by bone knives, limbs hacked off leaving dark, obscene wounds...

Of course, he did not wish to risk infecting Lex either, but Halkrath had said humans were immune. Anyway, right now he did not want to let her out of his sight even for a second. The memory of her head lolling brokenly against his arm, her skin grey and cold, competed with the other horrifying images, playing over and over and over. His fingers tightened where he gripped the tree, claws biting into the sodden bark. Lex's head turned at the sound of splintering wood.

"Easy." She said quietly.

Scar gave a little involuntary shake of his head. He knew he was breathing hard but he could not conquer the shiver that ran up his backbone nor the pulsing ache throbbing in his temples, "I see no sign of them, but that proves nothing." He said "My sons know better than to leave a careless trail. And Rika and Varrik are Rough Skulls, not clumsy halfwits. But I see signs the D'Kv'Var came this way."

"If there is no trail, perhaps the D'Kv'Var could not track them either?" She said.

"You forget, this is their territory," He replied, grimly, "They know every inch of it, I do not doubt. They could predict where the quarry would go."

"Then, we make for the ridge," She gestured to where it loomed in the distance, only faintly visible now in the gloom "That is where Halkrath says they are heading."

He flipped open the wristcom and clicked at the sight of the glitching screen.

"If I could only clear away this wretched interference." He said, "I need to know where they are – we must find them!"

He was shaking now, and Lex looked at him and laid a hand on his arm, "Scar, you don't look so good." She said, "I can go on with Halkrath and Sek'Met if – "

"No." He said, but he could not stop trembling, shivering as if chilled, despite the tropical heat; shaking with fear; with rage; with suppressed violence, "We must find them." He said again, "I must find them."

Xal'Uate stepped into the cell, "Get up."

Spyrro rose to her feet obediently and stood, awaiting further orders, "You must give up thoughts of escape." The combat master told her, "There is no point in continued defiance."

Spyrro nodded, keeping her face blank, "We are in space, where would I go?"

The D'tai N'as nodded back, slowly, "It is good that you have decided to see sense at last, Spyrro," She said, "The GhaRan-S'i-Ka will be pleased."

Spyrro said nothing, she did not want to risk the angry words she wanted to say bursting out of her mouth. She had promised herself.

"And I would not wish to lose another talented pupil." Xala said.

"Where is Ito?" Spyrro could not help asking the question.

"She is here, just as you are."

"The GhaRan-S'i-Ka has not… harmed her?"

For once, the combat master did not cuff Spyrro for speaking out of turn nor even reprimand her. The golden eyes winced a little, "Her continued survival depends on you, Spyrro." Xala said, her voice lifeless and monotonous, "She will live for as long as you obey."

Spyrro nodded. The combat master's subdued manner scared her and the thought of Ito locked up, beaten or punished for her sake, made her want to cry again. She dug her claws into the palms of her hands, swallowed down the tears and followed the combat master submissively along the corridor. Upon entering the cockpit, she felt a jolt of recognition. The room was laid out exactly like the Chameleon. For just a tantalising moment, she could imagine herself back home. For a second, she even thought it was Mei'Savir, sitting in the pilot seat. Then, the huge figure turned to face her and the illusion fractured. It was the GhaRan-S'i-Ka, not her Father,who towered above her.

Other female Rough Skulls were ranged around the cockpit, monitoring screens and the controls. She noticed a small, slim figure near the GhaRan-S'i-Ka: Ito!

The girl stood motionless and rigid a few feet away from the clan leader. One side of her face was swollen and discoloured with greenish wanted to spring towards her but she clenched her fists even harder and stayed where she was. For a second, her vision flashed red with a rage so strong, it made her dizzy. She tried to catch Ito's eye, but the older girl stared straight ahead as if she didn't even see Spyrro, her face a blank, her gaze fixed on nothing.

"Our objective," Said the GhaRan-S'i-Ka, "The planet of U'amea." She did not address Spyrro, but Xal'Uate,

"Yes, my commander." The combat master dipped her head.

"The last, traceable location of Sek'Met's ship." The big female was still speaking

to Xala but her bright, yellow gaze resting on Spyrro, "The place S'Kia and the soft meat have run to hide."

Spyrro knew the clan leader was trying to make her react but she said nothing, watching from under her brows.

"I am detecting more readings, GhaRan-S'i-Ka," Said one of the other female warriors, "Other ships have made planetfall in the last few units, I am picking up their trails."

"Who are they, N'Akou'te?" {trans: sharpened tusk/ fang}

"Pirates and renegades, by my guess." N'Akou'tesaid.

The clan leader's jaws spread "It seems the Abomination has many enemies, besides us."

"This sector is lousy with pirate activity," The other female shrugged, "It seems there is no brotherhood amongst thieves."

"The fools are trespassing on my territory," The GhaRan-S'i-Ka nodded "Take us down. This is a perfect opportunity."

Xala's brow wrinkled, "Opportunity, GhaRan-S'i-Ka?"

"To teach a lesson." The clan leader turned hard eyes on Spyrro, "You want to be a leader, my girl?"

Spyrro did her best to keep her face expressionless, "Yes, GhaRan-S'i-Ka."

"Then you must learn how to deal with dissenters and rebels."

"Dissenters?" Spyrro looked up at the clan leader, feeling herself adrift again in a sea of words she did not understand. "What do you do with…" Her brows wrinkled, "What are they? And what do you do with… them?"

"They are your enemies." The clan leader reached down and lifted Spyrro's face so that she could look into her eyes, "Your enemies are all who challenge your power; all who will not do your bidding; all who disagree with you."

Spyrro felt the urge to wrench her head free of the gnarled talons, but somehow she could not look away. She was conscious of Ito and Xala both watching her but the elder female's eyes held her as if pinned to the spot; her will a force that she could not resist, "How do you deal with them?" She managed to say.

"We will destroy them, Spyrro." The GhaRan-S'i-Ka spread her jaws, "All of them."

Hi everyone, sorry it's been such a long hiatus. It's been a busy couple of weeks with work and various trips away but I managed to finally get this chapter edited.

Miko Uchi Queen: I'm not sure Lex or Scar will exactly look back on this and laugh! Also they're probably a bit too worried to think about more babies right now, but I guess anything's possible. Selim definitely has more than a touch of the yautja capacity for violence when he's pushed too far, but then humans can be pretty vicious creatures too.

LovyDovy7 - Hey thanks for the check in. I hope this is worth the wait and not too much of a teaser! The boys are getting in touch with their savage side. I haven't revealed what happened to Scar's father His mother implies his father couldn't be bothered to keep track of the females he had impregnated - maybe he didn't even know who his children are. The only police are the enforcers of the clan leader, the only justice is what the leader and elders decide. You're right that Lex has been treated pretty crappily by the clan, but she's a human so it's not really a surprise they treat her badly - as in human society outsiders very often get a raw deal. The females both fear and respect Spyrro the elder, they look up to anyone who is brutal and strong.

Tenjp - Thanks for the message. Scar isn't feeling too hot right now - but can he hold it together long enough? If he won't even admit he's ill, it's going to make it tough to get treatment...

NemesisJudgement - Having someone fully invested in my story is a big compliment - thanks!

Lilspooky221 - Yeah, Lex can be scary when she wants to be, but will it be enough to get her babies back?