Chapter 1

I am called Sealink. Why? No idea. I just thought up of the name when Mother asked me what I was to be called. Mother accepted many things now that She is growing old—to old to care anymore much about differences. I am a human that coexist peacefully with Xenomorphs—Aliens, as other humans call them I suppose.

I am the single human member of my family’s empire, the only one to be good enough, superior enough to be accepted into the hive. The reason why the Aliens accepted me, I had yet to know, although I had a few ideas. My family, my friends, they aren’t of my kind. They are the Xenomorphs, the breathtaking creatures I know so well. The other humans, they insult my new family, they kill my brothers and sisters, try to tame them, hurt them. The humans who know them as the feared, deadly Alien.

I don’t remember much of my past, nor do I want to. To think of myself, touching, living with, seeing those people every day. It’s horrible, disgusting knowing what I am. Human. I am a nameless, inferior human. The Alien is so beautiful; the hard black flesh that covers its wondrous, lithe body was divine. Those claws, teeth, and tails make me jealous to my hideous core. The envy, the sadness I experienced, knowing all those years that I will never be like them. It is amazing, really, once someone thinks about it that I’m still alive to tell the tale.

Why, again? Well, after some experience on several raids on other human settlements, I have discovered that Aliens have to use humans or other animals as hosts for the Queen’s young. Surprisingly, I have been spared that fate to live as the Queen’s daughter. People may think I am betraying my species by aiding these ‘monsters’. I may be, but soon after my rescue, I grew to love each and everyone of them.

Yes, I love them. Very much so. They are family—they are the Hive. I grew up with them and stole hosts for them so that they would be the next generation to live on, continuing the existence of the Hive. They were more family than any human that has taken care of me, so that’s probably why the link between them and me is so strong. Mother, my queen, She understood my pain and sorrow. She took me as Her daughter, as Her apprentice, and Her child. She protected me, provided for me and loved me far more than my original human mother ever could. Just lying here, thinking of my Queen makes me feel so honored.

This is my story, the story of Sealink, the whole tale.

Sealink padded the black shield of the head fondly, crooning deep within her throat, mimicking the affection-sound of an Alien. Damon snuggled right up to his companion, thrumming himself. His secondary mouth reach out an lightly nipped her neck.

“Oh, you big silly,” laughed Sealink as she clucked him under his chin.

Damon thrummed again with pleasure.

I love it when you do that.

“I love it too when you do that, my dear sweet little one.”

Little one? Damon drew up his full height. Ha! Who is the little one now?

“Okay, okay, you win. Then what name shall I call you by Damon?” asked Sealink innocently, not at all intimidated by the towering black shape.

My Lord is quite fine.

“My Lord!” shrieked Sealink, shoving Damon to the ground. She fell forward, laughing all the while. “Ha! That’s a good one!”

I’m sure it is, Sealink, crooned Damon as he flipped Sealink on her back. He straddled her. Sealink did not mind, even though Aliens were born without sexual organs or the urges, but because the weight of the body felt comforting. Sealink stroked the elongated carapace lovingly, fingering every dent and scar. She gave the Alien croon again, sighing softly as Damon nibbled at her neck again. The self-control and taunt power of the Alien was unbelievable as he stroked the side of her white throat with his terrible knife-like tail-ending. With one stroke he could have severed her head from her shoulders. But instead, he caressed her.

In return, the girl tickled the Warrior Alien’s neck, just where the jaw met the neck. The Alien threw back his head in utter delight. If he had eyes, he would have rolled them with pleasure.

Now, to get things straight, here is what a typical Alien drone looks like: They are completely black with a hard exoskeleton that takes the form of their skeletal structure. Their heads bear no eyes, though they ‘see’ things through sound pitches. Their heads are banana shaped, curving downwards toward their backs reaching the middle of their spine and not up like the crests’ of birds. Aliens have a ribbed, skeletal tail that are ended with a deadly knife like appendage. Drones typically have four spikes on their shoulders, two spikes on each shoulder blade. They have silvery, even teeth in their primary mouth and a secondary pair of jaws within their first mouth acting as a vicious killing tool covered by flexible lips. They have arms that look like a humans, although they are thin and as strong as steel. Their back legs are longer and more powerfully built, built for amazing leaps and jumps.

Drones are normal workers and laborers in a Hive. The second level, or higher status are the Warriors, who look like drones though the Warriors are bigger and their spikes are larger. While drones can be described as ‘mindless’ in a Hive, Warriors are able to think and plan and strategize more. They are also called praetorian drones, but ‘Warriors’ are easier to say.

After Warriors come the Royal Guards, though there were none in my family Hive because they were killed off in an earlier battle and the Queen was too tired to lay Royals. Royals protect the Queen and guard the Hive at all costs, and are slightly bigger and have more of a crest than a banana shaped head than Warriors or normal drones.

Lastly comes the matriarch of all of them: the Queen. She is massive in presence and stature, dwarfing her children by at least six times. She is mostly pronounced not just by her size, but her regal, enormous crest displayed proudly. She is called ‘She Who Gives Life’ by her children because it is only the Queen who lays the eggs and facehuggers that impregnate the host with the younglings. It was she who commanded the Hive, who came up with the strategies in protecting the Hive from outsiders. She was the Law, and all the Aliens loved her, adored her above all else. It was with this devotion that the Queen ruled her domain.

(Back to me and Damon!)

The two of them laid there, content with each other’s presence. Ever since Damon was nothing but a chestbuster, Sealink knew he was special. Her musings were correct when the great Warrior Alien pronounced his love for the strange girl. Ever since then, Sealink was besides herself with joy. Even when fighting and sparring with the other Aliens to keep them fit, she was still joyful. Nothing could dampen her spirits. She was the best Alien ever—she lured other humans to the area, allowing the other drones incubate them with other chestbusters. She was the best fighter of all of them. She was a great healer and storyteller, a perfect parent for the younglings and elder drones.

The Queen Mèlintèlinas loved and approved of Sealink above all others. It was Sealink who provided Her with medicine for Her aching joints. Sealink had a mind—the drones and most of the Warriors obeyed her without thought or question, but Sealink could easily ignore Her commands. But she did not. She remained loyal to Her without question.

The Queen Mèlintèlinas shifted in her sleeping chamber between two massive rocks, hidden from view. She knew it was Her best idea to accept the girl into the Hive. What a wonderful, excellent idea. And now, the Queen was growing old—too old, She thought, to control a massive Hive as she once was able to do. No, back in her prime She was the greatest: all feared her! All the other Queens bowed homage to Her. But now, nearly a three thousand years old, She was sleeping more and more, leaving Her small Hive to fend for itself. No, not really. Although it was unofficial, Sealink was practically the new Queen. She had all the makings to be one: strong, smart, clever, seducing when she had to (to lure humans, of course), loving, ruthless, filled with unquestioning loyalty to the Hive.

The Hive was a small one—very, very small compared to the others across the galaxy. There were only about thirteen Aliens: The Queen, Sealink, two Warriors, nine drones and one youngling. The group was extremely loyal to each other, and their Mother. Because of their exposure to a dying Queen and a human, even the drones seemed to possess an extra level of thinking. Even though they were small, they were widely respected and acknowledged: in battle they were deadly and ruthless. Sealink never lost a battle, and could take on any that challenged her. There was once where she defeated an insane Queen and survived.

Sealink protected and organized the tiny Hive, making sure they moved around and got the best places. She seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to hunting and which places were safe. She protected them from the yautja hunters that would every blue moon try their luck on the planet.

But there hadn’t been Predators on the planet for some time now, but Sealink did not slacken the family at all. They still practiced their skills and sparring techniques One could never be too careful when it came to the hunters who took the lives and heads of Aliens as trophies. Why? Sealink remembered Mother telling her about some sort of Rite of Passage that young bloods (or Predators that haven’t made their first hunt that made them adults) took to become worthy adults and mates. The Xenomorphs were considered to be prey by them. Nothing more. Worthy prey, perhaps, but prey nonetheless. The more challenging the prey, the more honor and respect the yautja received. Sealink’s lessons about the yautja culture were hazy and often ended up with the Queen working Herself in a fit of fury, remembering the time where She was held captive on a planet, forced to lay eggs and bear children so that they would be slaughtered for the Predator’s sport. The Queen’s hatred in them influenced Sealink so she too hated all Predators for what they had done to her Mother.

But that was the past. (Thankfully!) This is now.

Suddenly, a tiny black body appeared from a tree and proceeded on landing on Damon’s back. Damon screeched, rearing up, bucking the small form off him. Underneath the Warrior, Sealink chuckled as she said, “You little devil, Zizar!”

Zizar! You sneaky little piece of—skreeee! When I get my hands on you—!

“It’s okay, Damon. Zizar was just . . . say, what were you doing, you little pest?” admonished the girl, sitting up, hands on her hips.

The tiny replica of Damon padded up, tail wagging back and forth. The little Warrior was a favorite of all the drones, bringing ‘smiles’ to many of their faces.

Practicing my stalking skills, Sealink! See how well I did? You did not even notice that I was there!

Damon gave a humorous growl. Perhaps you could have practiced your skills when Sealink and I aren’t . . . busy.

Sealink hid a smile as she heard her consort’s mindspeech. Even though they spoke their words in their minds, forming links to each other, they still spoke with the same Alien sounds. If an observer saw the scene, they would have seen the largest screech and the girl underneath him screech in return. The words would be lost, leaving only the mixed up jumble of noises and sounds.

But there weren’t others. Only Sealink and her companions. She scooped up the little Zizar, hugging him tight, and then letting him ride on her shoulder like a parrot.

“C’mon, you little pest. Let’s find you something to eat.”

The little Alien made a squeal of agreement, thrumming loudly in her ear. Zizar adored his blonde haired companion, his human idol. He practically worshipped her as follower, trying to please her and the others of his Hive, showing off and practicing his skills. Already he was skilled, but still he was a youngling. Hell, not even four moltings old! He was something like the baby of the gang, one that was petted and praised.

Damon padded close besides the girl, his shoulders rolling. She only came to where the neck met the body, standing her full 5’5 height.

She tickled his chin, a sign of affection. Because she was human, only she could master the ‘tickling’ sensation. Damon rumbled his pleasure, and he broke off from his place at the girl’s side to meet up with his other Warrior brother.

Warriors. The whole ‘love ’em and leave ’em bit is so cute, thought Sealink as she walked to where a couple of drones were ripping slices of boar meat and placing them on a stone slab for later eating. Utterly at ease with the Aliens that could tear a human apart, she placed the little youngling down and selected a slice from the pile.

Not that one, Sealink, said one. She was the eldest of the drones, something like the big sister. You can have the choice piece. Impaling a piece of the most tender meat, still warm from the boar, she took it out and gave it to the girl. Sealink thrummed loudly, giving the double hum of thanks.

“Thanks, Zaphara. Ooooh, it’s going to taste so good!”

Can I have some? begged the little Alien.

Zaphara shook her banana-shaped head, the end of the crest casting shadows over her back. The choicest piece belongs to Sealink. You grow very fine with what you have.

The little Alien, like all Aliens, could not do many facial expressions because of its taunt skin and lack of facial muscles and all what they had were lips that could move up and down. Instead, Zizar gave a mental pout, giving a tiny puppy whine.

Sealink rolled her eyes, but gave the youngling a small piece of the raw meat. Immediately, the Alien snatched it with his tiny secondary jaws and ate it eagerly, before the older drones could object.

As Zizar scampered off, his movements still awkward and ungainly that would one day make way for the smooth and feline grace of all Warriors and drones, the others gave the burbling hiss that was interrupted with pauses between them. Early on, Sealink discovered that it meant that the Aliens were laughing. Zaphara shook her head, still ‘chuckling’.

Little things. Can not believe that Damon was once like him—and now look: a strapping, darksome fair Alien. What do you think . . . Sealink?

It was common belief that Aliens were stupid, mindless creatures that only worked and lived and thrived for the continuation of the Hive. Yautja and humans agreed on that, but Sealink knew better. Knew much, much, better than that. Despite all beliefs, they actually were capable of jokes, threats, and affectionate ramblings. They were better than humans, who talked and thought too much. They were better than the yautja, who fought and hunted too much. They were perfect, every single one of them. And Sealink loved all of them dearly.

It was so strange, to have one human living with these creatures. What an odd sight! There, in the clearing, right next to three drones, sat a girl about fifteen, causally conversing with them. One time on a raid for human hosts that went successfully and the people were guarded at the camp, one of them woke up. He seemed utterly bewildered and panicked when he felt the youngling butt its head against his ribcage. He screamed with pain and when there was a lull, he turned his frightened eyes to the girl. Sealink stared back calmly, without any remorse or guilt.

“Why . . . are . . . you doing this . . . to meeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” he screeched on the last word, the youngling now visible, busting out of his ribcage.

Strangely, the human was still alive, his eyes glazing over as Sealink scooted over to help the little Alien up. She turned to the dying face of the man and said calmly, “Because I am the Queen’s daughter.”

The conversation between the drones and the girl was ended short by a tired and yet regal voice, like an old matriarch who just woke up from a long sleep.

Sealink. Come to My chamber. I must speak with you.

All the Aliens heard the command and watched Sealink’s response. It was unconscious. She alone had the power to disobey the command issued by the Mother, She Who Gave Life. She could refuse the command if she wanted to. In a way, that made her more powerful than the Queen Herself.

But Sealink bowed her head, her voice filled with devotion and utter loyalty. “I come when you call, Mother.”

Sealink was filled with a raspy purr, a sure sign that the Queen was pleased with the response.

She ate the meat quickly and got up, walking to where the Queen lay nestled between two boulders. It was in the forest, in a secluded spot. She made her way down and froze when the Queen raised Her regal crest to regard Her ugly, strange, beautiful daughter.

Ah, my child.

Sealink bowed her head in submission to the sole creature in the universe she would submit to. “Mother.”

I could tell that my queen was pleased to see me. The feeling was so unbearable. Like a mere speck of dust compared to the brightest star in the cosmos. She moved Her enormous, slick black skull away, those smaller arms protruding from Her chest moving towards me, to touch me. I let Her, raising my arms slowly over my head, letting the queen inspect me with Her long, jagged claws. She approved, moving slowly away and curling up again. I let my eyes travel over Her, over Her body, Her head.

The Queen Mèlintèlinas shifted Her awesome bulk, settling like a dog, Her shoulder and side of Her body resting on a sun-warmed stone.

There is an important issue that needs resolving, Sealink.

Sealink said nothing, her head bowed, waiting.

I have felt the planet move under the impact of a ship.

“A ship, Mother?”

Yes. I sense the presence of hunters.

“Hunters!”

Foul meats. Yautja. They are here.

Sealink raised her head. The Queen lowered Her own head all the way down and Sealink was close enough to reach out and stroke the cool, smooth shell of the Queen’s head. The thrum that the Queen gave Sealink was more powerful than a thousand drones’. Even more powerful, it seemed, than Damon’s, whose thrum filled her with such fullness.

As the girl continued to stroke the mighty, deadly Queen, Sealink said with confidence and resolve, “As always, Mother, I shall deal with them. They will never bother us, or our planet.”

At that, the Queen sunk Her head even lower in content. Ahhhhh . . . you please Me, my child. Take the Warriors with you on your own hunt. If the yautja love hunting so much, then why not let us have our own hunt?

The Queen’s voice hardened and grew cold, so cold and hateful that Sealink cowered.

Immediately, as if contrite, the Queen warmed Her tone and with Her secondary mouth that was almost as big as Damon’s primary mouth, She nibbled Sealink’s head in an affectionate manner.

Why do you cease your caresses?

“You’re anger frightens me so, Mother.”

Ah. The mere thought of yautja fills me with such hate. Beware, my child, for they will one day strike you a most terrible blow. Forgive Me, child?

“They have done You a great and terrible blow, Mother. There is nothing to forgive.”

The Queen purred again, a sound that seemed to fill the heavens. You please Me, my child. Now go and deal with these trespassers. I am so tired . . .

“Rest, Mother. I will deal with them. Rest. Sleep.”

Yes . . . sleep . . .

The presence in Sealink’s mind slowly ebbed and receded. It gone totally, but ebbed to nothing more than a pinprick. But a pinprick nonetheless. It was still something, a tie with the great Queen Mèlintèlinas. Sealink slowly got up, finally stopping her pettings.

The mere thought of the Queen’s tie with her being severed brought a rush of emotion. A feeling of loneliness. Pain, sorrow.

“They will never strike me a terrible blow, Mother. I vow it. I will do everything in my power. But they cannot.”

Chapter 2

Sealink sat on Damon’s shoulders, her legs between his four spikes. Behind them was the other Warrior. He was more military in character than Damon, much more intent on his duty. If you thought about it, he was much more ‘old-schooled’ in his ways. And yet, the strange thing was the Damon was the dominate of the two not just because he was bigger. He used his brain. He was smart, clever, resourceful. The other, although he took his duty seriously, resorted a bit too much to the usual Alien direct way of fighting.

And yet, Sealink fondly called him Kaylon, the fighter. When Kaylon did talk, he was curt, polite, quiet. Nothing at all like that romantic fighter that she was sitting on.

Sealink leaned in forward. “Quickly and quietly. I think I see them!” she hissed.

Damon crouched even lower and without a sound glided over the ground, picking up speed. Kaylon followed suite, almost as silent as Damon. Soon, they were in the small glen. Sealink slid off and soundlessly padded across from the shapes. The two Warriors followed suite. When they were concealed by a good number of bushes, Sealink began to observe her enemies.

“They are four of them,” she whispered, more to herself than to the others. This was how she calculated her moves and plans. Damon and Kaylon were silent, letting her think. Almost always, it was best to follow Sealink’s ideas. There was a damn good chance that it would work. A very damned good choice. Very good. If they were in a true Hive, the Queen would make the plans, which were practically only one: attack. Besides, in the true Hive, there would be hundreds of others to help. But they’re weren’t others. Just them. And their Queen was old and tired. Best stick with the Queen’s daughter.

“One leader, three subordinates. If they’re on this planet, that means that they aren’t on their first hunt. All Blooded, but the leader higher ranking than them. It that’s the case, they wouldn’t have any plasma weapons. Nope. None that I can see. That means that everything would have to be close contact—no, wait. Some would have to have throwing stars.”

She turned to the both of them and whispered/hissed, “Here’s the plan: we attack the ones with the throwing stars. Then the leader. But we must be quick and swift! Cut off their right arms if need be. They have bombs strapped to them if anything goes wrong.”

Kaylon growled. Killing themselves in case of failure? How stupid!

I totally agree, said Damon.

“Stupid, but effect in battle. Remember your training, stick close, and make sure none escapes. We don’t want the Hive or ourselves blowing up, nor do we want the foul meats to rush in retaliation.

I bet we could take them all, growled Kaylon again.

“Eight able-bodied of us all. Mother? Zizar? No, we can not risk outside foes.”

Then lead us in battle, Sealink, said Damon solemnly. As the Queen Herself.

Sealink gave a smile. If it was not Damon, it was always another who repeated that every time. Some sort of salute, she would imagine.

Sealink took a deep breath, and stepped out of the bush.

“Trespassers! Leave this planet while you can!”

She spoke in the yautja language, all gruff and growl of it. She loathed feeling the words on her tongue, but allowed the Queen to teach it to her, since the Queen Herself had been a captive once on their ship for their deadly game.

All four of the yautja stood at their impressive heights, their leader standing the tallest at eight feet. They seemed surprised and Sealink repeated her message.

Predators. Yautja. Foul meats. Hunters. It did not matter what they were called—they were all the same. They hunted. It was their culture, their religion, their way of life. Sealink just could not understand that. And yet they did.

The Predators did not answer, but one of the younger ones started walking toward her, clearly intent on intimidating her and perhaps taking her skull as a trophy.

Sealink calmly took out her quiver and bow. She placed an arrow in the notch and pulled back, sighting her target, the disk-carrier. She paused, sent a mental prayer to the Queen, and let it fly.

With a wet whistling sound, it flew true, straight in the throat of one, past the one walking toward her. The Predator jerked, clutching instinctually at its throat, clawing. It convulsed once, and then fell to the ground, dead, its fluorescent green blood coating the arrow. This happened in less than a second, giving Sealink enough time to notch another arrow and letting it fly into another’s chest.

The three of them, including the one with an arrow stuck in his chest, turned to Sealink. She threw her arrows and bow back in the bush, taking out her dirks. They were beautifully crafted and made from the purest stardust found and the handles were made from the hottest lava, forming their burnished black obsidian grips. Blue sapphire gems decorated the hilt.

The Predators seemed a little taken back that a mere human had slain their companion, but their surprise only lasted mere seconds. The one that was closest to her reached down and pulled up a throwing star.

Damn it! thought Sealink it threw it to her. She juggled and put both dirks in one hand, while in the other she, with utter skill, caught the flying, deadly disk in midair. She threw it back with deadly accuracy and with such speed that it sliced the Predator’s head right off. Ha. Killed by its own weapon. The irony of it all.

The one with an arrow in its chest gave a roar and raced forward, its spear growing larger as it ran toward the calm figure of the human. But did not reach its target as Damon leapt from the overhanging tree branch, impaling the hunter. The hunter convulsed, and tried to reach for the self-destruct.

Before it could, Sealink sliced its arm right off with her dirk. Without even looking back, she made her way to where the leader was. All eight feet of towering muscle and sinew. The leader and the girl looked at each other. Well, actually, the girl was looking at the expressionless mask and cold eyes of the Predator. The Predator? Who knows.

The both of them continued the contest of wills. Damon was finished with his kill and, snarling, his muzzle coated with fluorescent green blood, he padded over to where Sealink was. Sealink did not even break contact with the Predator. Kaylon dropped besides her as well, taking his place by the girl’s other side.

The Predator seemed unsure of what to do, but his flexed his fingers and growled behind the mask in his language, Who the hell are you?

Sealink lifted her lips and twitched them up and down, just as Aliens do. She growled back, The Queen’s daughter. I and my kin have given you and your companions a chance to leave. You refused. For that, you will be killed.

The Predator growled deeply. Is that a challenge, ooman?

“If you see it as one, then yes. I challenge your presence here, yautja.”

The hunter took off his mask. His oval-shaped face was covered with His crab-like mandibles flared with aggression. When he did, he flung it in the bushes and he slowly reached for the self-destruct computer.

Besides her, both Damon and Kaylon tensed, their hisses growing louder.

“No. Not yet,” Sealink said in their own language.

The two of them, still hissing at the Predator, refrained from attacking.

The Predator slowly took off his self-destruct and flung it in the bushes as well.

I will not fight you.

“And why not? I’m not good enough for you, you lily-livered yellow-bellied coward?” she snarled. “Oh, well, then I should just get my arrows and stick one in your back as you flee for your life.” She slowly showed him her back, the ultimate insult. With a roar, the Predator struck his chest with his fist furiously, his eyes turning blood-red.

How dare you insult me in such a manner. Although it would be foolish to attack a simple ooman girl, you have deserved your fate! You have my challenge, ooman!

“Very well.”

Sealink deliberately curled her neck to say to Damon, “I must fight him alone. He challenged me. Go, the both of you.”

Be safe, my mate. And with that, Damon turned and Kaylon followed, leaving Sealink and the towering Predator.

Sealink spat on the ground. “How would you like to fight, yautja? Oh, you do know how to fight, right?”

The Predator’s mandibles flared even wider, a deep, rumbling growl building in his throat. It was an ugly sound to the girl’s fine-tuned ears after all those years around the high pitched screeches of the Aliens.

You dare insult me, ooman?

“I do dare, yautja.”

Then let us settle this insult by fighting hand-to-hand combat, he crowed smugly. No weapons.

How did Sealink knew this was going to happen? Of course he would take advantage of his size and strength. Pity he did not know even himself.

“Say your last, yautja.”

Then die. I will rip out your guts and feed them to you!

With a roar that shook the leaves on the tree, he rushed at her. Sealink calmly waited until the last second before leaping out of the way. She leapt up and began scaling the great size of the Predator. The Predator roared again, this time throwing himself on the ground, on his back, intending to crush Sealink. But Sealink saw that coming, and although she saw it coming she was annoyed; she would have to wait to do her deadly blow.

She leapt clear, kicking out and catching one of the yautja’s mandibles in the process. With a snarl, he rolled up and met a fistful of sand in his eyes. He yowled with rage and desperately tried to clear his vision. When he did, Sealink successfully clambered on the giant’s back and with a brutal twist, snapped Predator’s neck. The Predator stiffened, and collapsed, dead, his mandibles widened in surprise. Sealink spat in his upturned back and with a fluid motion, cut off his head and tied it to a branch by his dreadlocks. Future warning? Yes.

Sealink sighed, wiping the blood off her fingers, but felt joy. I wonder what’s for supper?

As she made her way out of the glen, she retrieved her bow and arrows and whistled shrilly. The call was immediately answered as Damon and Kaylon padded across the field. They both thrummed (Damon more than Kaylon) as they reached her. Sealink giggled and fondly scratched Kaylon and affectionately ticked Damon under the chin. Both their thrums grew with pleasure. She mounted Damon and said, “C’mon guys. Let’s see what Zaphara has for supper.”

Little did she know that a pair of golden yellow eyes followed their movements out of the glen. And little did Sealink know that those eyes belonged to a Predator. The Predator was called Dauncha, and he was actually the Leader of the group. He was scouting ahead when he saw the Alien-ooman attacking his young bloods. He had refrained from fighting to witness the girl’s amazing skills. She just stopped the shuirken in mid-air—a feat unknown by most yautja. And her obvious link to the Aliens—the more Dauncha thought about it, she was becoming more and more valuable in his eyes. Oh, what a prize she would make, a trophy far better alive than dead. What a great teacher she would be if she was forced to teach the young pups back on the ship and homeworld how to fight like that. Already an idea was forming in Dauncha’s mind.

Chapter 3

Was it a big battle? Did you all? What happened! Zizar squeaked, excitement barely contained. Sealink thought he could have burst like a balloon, and laughed at the thought.

“No, not really. Just some foolish foul meats trying their hand at bothering the locals.”

How big were they? Did you rip them apart? Can they fly?

“Zizar, one day you’ll be big and strong and just as good a fighter as Damon or Kaylon to find that out by yourself. Besides,” Sealink added sternly, “don’t ever get the idea to go hunting them. Avoid them. The ones that were on the planet were obviously newly blooded—probably on their Warrior hunt.”

The little Alien bowed his head in acknowledgment, saying, “Yes, Sealink.”

“Now go and practice your tail skills.”

As the little youngling bounded off, Damon padded besides her and nibbled at her neck, purring.

You always have a way at teaching the young, don’t you, Sealink?

“It’s why I am here, Damon.”

Damon rumbled again, this time with his secondary mouth biting her throat gently.

You fought well today. You delt with the tall one beautifully.

“Aw, he was nothing, all bluff and show. I’d take Alien cunning any day.”

You flatter me, Sealink.

“Was I talking about you?” laughed Sealink, hissing in a teasing manner. “I was talking about Zizar.”

“Yeah, you heard me!”

What? That little scrap of shell! Ha! The day he has my cunning is when I’m Queen!

“Hmmfff,” snorted Sealink, tracing Damon’s jaw. “That’s a sight I would have to see.”

What you wish will be my command.

“Then you shall have to obey all my commands?” asked Sealink solemnly.

Damon sat up straighter. But of course.

“Then here is my first command: woo me.”

If Aliens could smile, Damon was. That will definably take Alien cunning.

“I’m counting on it,” purred Sealink as Damon gently pressed her down to the ground.

Sealink woke up with a start, her eyes flying open. It was midmorning, sun’s out, nothing’s wrong—gone the night, away the fright, it’s alright—

No. That smell. Yautja.

“Get up!” she hissed in a strangled voice to Damon, who stirred groggily.

What is it, Sealink?

“Yautja hunters! They’ve found us!”

What! Are you sure, Sealink? I thought we all!

“I thought we did too! Quick, get everyone up and toward the hills—we must insure the survival and safety of the Hive!”

Damon bowed to the frantic girl and immediately began to round up all the still-sleeping drones, cuffing them if he had to. Aliens preferred the night and were mostly nocturnal creatures. The day time was their sleeping time.

Damn it! Sealink desperately shoved and jostled her small family into consciousness.

Zaphara got up groggily, swaying on her toes. What is it, Sealink?

“Yautja! They found us! Quick, get everybody to the hills—”

Suddenly, one of the drones began to shriek and thrash with pain, a spear impaling her to the ground.

“Palla!” screeched Sealink, fury filling her up. The death of one of the drones spurred the Aliens into greater urgency. If prepared, the Aliens would have massed together and attacked, but it was all happening too fast. Quickly, the Aliens fled into the trees, running away so that they could start anew. Palla was a casualty and would be mourned later when the time was right.

Sealink saw Damon and Kaylon skreeeeeeeeeeing in rage, trying to locate their assailants.

“Damon! Kaylon! Quick, get out of here! There is nothing else you can do!” cried Sealink.

Damon heard her and relented, but Kaylon did not want to. He snarled and thrashed his tail in rage; Palla was going to be his mate! His mate! He reared and was about to attack when a net suddenly appeared and wrapped around his body. His shrieks of rage turned into hisses of raw agony.

“No!” cried Sealink as she raced back to the struggling Alien. With her special dirks, she managed to cut through the strange material constricting the Alien. With a slash, the net was broken and Kaylon stumbled out. She shoved him away and slapped down on his rump with the flat of her blade.

“Go, Kaylon! I will deal with the foul meats!”

Kaylon nodded through the haze of screeching pain and raced away, joining up to Damon. They both hesitated, not wanting to leave Sealink to her fate.

“Make sure the others are safe and they aren’t followed,” raged Sealink. “Go, and be strong for me!”

We’ll be back for you, Sealink! Damon cried as he and Kaylon raced off into the underbrush.

I will be still here, thought Sealink as she turned to meet the attackers who so heartlessly murdered Palla. At least we gave them a chance to leave when we met them! Cowards! Catching us unawares! The nerve!

“Come out, you cowards! Quit your sulking and face me like the scum that you are,” she raged, a strand of blonde hair covering a silver-blue eye. All of the sudden, there was a blue splattering of electricity as three figures uncloaked. They were tall and muscular: Predators.

She snarled and spat on the ground, and then rushed at them without a sound. She attacked. She fought. She was a whirlwind of fury, every strike powered by her rage. How dare they attack them, on their own planet! She seemed to dance out of the way of all the blows and strikes her attackers gave her. She weaved among them, slicing open the skin and causing sparks to fly whenever she hit their armor. Within seconds, two of them were dead while the other one was fending off her furious whirlwind of slashes with his duo wrist blades.

The two of them were locked in the heated battle when she suddenly slipped on a patch of slippery grass made slick from blood. In an instant, the Predator swung his metal-clad foot and gave a solid kick to her side. The breath was driven out from her as she clutched her ribs. Already she knew that three of them were broken. It was difficult to breath, sharp shears of pain lancing her side.

The Predator clicked with triumph as he bent down to grip her by her throat. As fast as a coiled snake, the girl gripped his wrist and twisted it, bringing a sharp snap of bone breaking. With a roar, the Predator stumbled back, his yowl shattering the air. His roar turned into a trickling cough as the girl threw one of her blades deep within his throat. As he was beginning to fall, the girl leapt up and took out her blades as three other Predators suddenly uncloaked.

With a totally Alien screech of rage, Sealink proceeded to slashing and tearing the other Predators, despite her three broken ribs. She felt blood on her lips as she fell to one knee as one punched her in the face. She spat out a chipped tooth and flew up in the air, her hands like claws and her fingernails like daggers. Forcefully, she gripped a Predator’s dreadlocks tightly and yanked them back. The Predator grunted as his throat was exposed. Just as she was about to ram her blade in the vulnerable flesh, a deep and throaty purr stopped her along with the terrified,

Sealink! Sealink! Help meeeee!

Sealink paused, still gripping the dreadlocks and still on the Predator’s shoulder. She turned her head and widened her eyes at Zizar squirming in the eight foot tall Predator’s grip. Try as he might, the little Alien could not break free nor could he do any damage. Sealink felt terror grow in her breast as she saw the Predator raise with his other arm the wrist blades. With a fist, the blades shot out, two twin bringers of death.

Without hesitating, Sealink leapt from the Predator she was currently on and stopped short at the Predator warningly placed the blades to the youngling’s head. Sealink freezed.

Sealink! Sealink! I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna die!

Sealink was torn with her instincts. She could take them all down, but what about Zizar? The poor little thing—hadn’t even killed his first human yet! But she had to protect the others! Finally, it was her love in him and his pleas that made her do what she had never done before.

“No, please! Wait! Stop!” pleaded Sealink, lowering her body, ignoring the stabbing pains her broken ribs gave her as they tickled her lung. She dropped her dirks and continued to lower be body painfully. “Please, I will stop, just don’t hurt him. Please. I beg you.”

The metal mask cocked, its cold and emotionless face facing down at hers. The long dreadlocks reached down to the male’s waist. The skin seemed to have a more reddish tint that the others, with black and orange diamond patterns lacing his flesh. His mesh covered his body, and a metal loincloth covered his nether regions. He seemed armed only with a disk, a spear, and his wrist blades, which were still dangerously close to Zizar’s skull.

“Please, I grovel at your feet. Do not harm the little one.” Sealink’s face burned with humiliation, as she crouched down, utterly defenseless, begging for the youngling’s life. She hated the way she was bowing down, hating the fact that she was begging her enemy for Zizar’s life. Only to the Queen, her Mother, did she bow down to. But to no others. No one else.

The Predator regarded her for a moment longer. Zizar whimpered, growing instinctually limp in the yautja’s hands. His fate rested between Sealink and the Predator. All what he could do was wait.

The twin blades moved away from the Alien’s elongated head slowly—a tiny bit.

I have come to claim you as my slave, ooman. You have proved yourself to be worthy of such an . . . honor.

“A slave! Ha, you can bet your sorry life that I won’t,” spat Sealink, bristling and hackling, her back rounding with fury.

It was only when the twin blades were placed back on to Zizar’s skull did Sealink wince and squirmed. Oh, the humiliation! She could not bear being some slave to her ENEMY! This was madness! She must refuse! Was a born free, and free she should remain! But Zizar . . . oh, the emotions that tore through her body. One was telling her to give up on Zizar, live free!—while the other said to submit, let the little one live. Finally, after a huge battle within herself, Sealink untensed, allowing her body to resume the position of total submission.

“Wait, wait . . . please, forgive me.” The words were forced out of her, her whole body trembling with suppressed rage and terror and concern. “If you release the little one . . . I will go peacefully.”

The metal mask cocked. How do I know I could trust you? How could this hard meat’s life hold you to your word?

Sealink trembled with indignation at the slang word of her kin’s kind, but let it pass. I guess I will be letting a lot of things pass if this keeps up, thought Sealink bitterly.

“He is my son. I will do anything for him—even serve the likes of you.”

There is one thing you will have to learn onboard my ship, ooman, growled the Predator. And that is respect. You will hold your tongue unless asked a direct question, and even then you must be utterly civilized. Got that, ooman?

Sealink cringed with rage, but managed to say softly, “Yes . . . master.”

The answer seemed to please the Predator, for he lowered his blades. Swear it. Swear you will serve me faithfully until I say otherwise.

“For the life of my son . . . I swear it,” Sealink whispered. Softly. So softly. “You may do what you wish with my body, my services.” Painfully, more mental pain than physical, she rolled over on her back, the ultimate sign of submission, and squirmed, reveling her unprotected throat and stomach to the Predator. “I am yours . . . to command.”

The Predator seemed to swell with triumph in dominating a much sought-after ooman. At last! The ultimate trophy! The legendary hard meat girl who could fight better than almost all the yautja. His. His slave. His. What a feat! He had lost many good followers, but it was worth it.

“But please,” pleaded the girl, still on her back, “please give me one last moment with my son before you take me away.”

The Predator snorted, and dropped the youngling. The second Zizar hit the ground, he sprang to Sealink. Sealink flipped back on her knees, hugging the little Alien tightly.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered fiercely, “I will give ’em hell.”

Please don’t leave, Sealink. You can not leave, begged Zizar.

“I must, Zizar. I promised. Now go—leave.”

No.

“Go, youngling!” she hissed, taking a firmer tone and shoving him off. The little Alien stumbled and with one last look at his beloved Sealink, fled through the bushes. Finally when Zizar was safe, Sealink turned slowly to the silent Predator, waiting. Waiting for her orders.

Sealink stared at him motionless.

The Predator reached for some black cord from his belt and without saying anything, bound the girl’s hands together. He tied them tightly, making sure the knots held firm. During the whole process Sealink did not fight back nor did she make any move. Zizar was safe, along with the others of the Hive. And that’s what all what mattered.

When he was finished, the Predator rocked on his haunches, regarding the girl with a clicking purr. Sealink took her eyes away from her hands and stared deep into the glassy eyes of the mask. For a long moment, the two of them regarded each other, Predator and human. One, with her smooth white skin, silver-blue eyes, nearly white blonde hair. The other, rubbery dreadlocks, reddish pebbly skin, yellow eyes. (Well, Sealink did not know it yet, but she will). One small, slight, limber, taunt—the other huge, tall, muscular, with fine chiseled abs.

The Predator cocked his head, his voice sounding metallic behind the mask.

For a ooman, I did not expect any honor. You surprise me, ooman.

Sealink said nothing, but she so desperately wanted to say, “Of course I have honor, you scumbag.”

The Predator seemed to read her mind and gave a clicking purr. I think I have found myself a worthy slave.

Sealink averted her eyes, one hand going through a spasm with rage and humiliation.

The Predator regarded her for a second longer, and then getting up and slinging the girl onto his shoulder. The move utterly threw off the girl, strickening her into surprise. The move was so sudden and unexpected that she did not react. So high up. The Predator made his way through the forest. Sealink felt like a sack of potatoes, unable to do anything. If she wanted to, she could flip over his back and snap his neck—she was so close. But she had honor. She did. Besides, her three ribs were broken and she was in no condition in fighting or running even if she wanted to break her code.

Every bounce jolted her side, causing her to grit her teeth against the pain. But she would never admit the pain, nor voice a complaint. Never. They could take away her freedom and pride, but not her spirit and will.

It took over three hours for the hunters and captured girl to reach the ship. The obvious leader of the three casually threw the girl on the ground, pressing a button to decloak the ship. Sealink curled with agony, her ribs poking out through the skin. She slowly straightened, fighting to keep her gore down. Pain throbbed through her vision. It had been such a long time since she had food, water! But she would never admit that.

A Predator gave a trilling click, low and filled with scorn. Sealink bared her teeth at the Predator, her sharpened fangs glinting.

Oh how she wanted to sink her fangs through his throat! No, no, remember her honor. Instead, she busied herself in licking the blood off her wounded side. Warm and tacky blood tasted coppery in her mouth. Ug. It has been a long time since she had tasted her own blood.

With a grunt her captor reached for the cord and yanked on it, jerking Sealink to her feet. Heavily favoring her wounded side, she stumbled after the Predator like a whipped cur.

Darkness. The latch closed behind them, and Sealink turned to look, a terrible feeling of loneliness creeping up on her. Never before had she gone this far without her kin. The Predator tugged again, this time harder than before, causing the girl to fall on her knees. She gave the Alien hiss of annoyance, rolling her S’s. Such was her mimicry that one of the smaller Predators instinctually reached for its combistick.

The three of them led Sealink to the lower levels. Finally, the Predator reddest of all shoved Sealink in the cell. With catlike grace, she flipped over to avoid landing too heavily on her damaged side. She glared at the three Predators, bristling. With a quick slash and bite of her teeth, she severed the cord that tied her hands and threw it in the tallest one’s face, showing smugly that she could have torn apart her bindings if she really wanted to. All what she got was a growl and the other two left at a motion from their superior.

Sealink scooted to the farthest corner, clutching her wounded side and hissing softly, not taking her eyes off of the Predator. She backed away and tucked herself it, trying to make herself as small as possible, bristling and baring her fangs. The Predator gave the clicking purr: laughter.

You will stay here until we reach the homeworld, ooman. You will regain your strength that you will need to aid me in the lessons of the hunt.

He leaned in farther out in the cage, his metal face emotionless. And that’s besides being my slave. You will obey me unquestioningly—any hint of insubordination and you will be beaten. You must show utter respect to the others on my ship. Otherwise, you will be beaten. If you show any disrespect to others, they will be allowed to beat you. Obey me, show respect and the proper form of edict . . . and you just might survive.

As if an afterthought, the yautja added, Which I’m counting on.

With that, he departed, leaving the door to close automatically, leaving Sealink alone. Alone. Utterly alone. No mental conversations through her head. None. Alone. The wall and door was some sort of glass, allowing her to see out. There were lights and the hallways were lonely.

Sealink felt bitterness well in her. She felt rage through her. She was supposed to be happy! She and Damon were supposed to have a youngling of their own! She was supposed to guard the Queen, and now she was here, acting as a slave for her most hated enemy. Tears of bitterness threatened to spill. Alone, with no one to see, Sealink cried until she could cry no more.

Chapter 4

Sealink did not keep track of the days or how long she was on the ship. Boredom and self-pity and memories were her constant companions. Food and water was brought to her at continuous intervals. She utterly ignored the guards, always keeping her back to them and only eating the food and water that they brought after they were gone. There was no way on earth that they would see her at her lowest, taking food from them like a handfed pet.

Her ribs began to knit after much excruciating pain at resetting them and placing them back in her side. Her wounds closed and Sealink made sure they were free from infection.

One day, as she was wondering what the others were doing, a movement caught her eye, but she did not turn. A guard? No guard was that small. The girl slowly turned her head and from her crouching position, she stood the same height as the young yautja. It looked like a miniature replica of a full grown and bloodied Predator! It must be one of its young, thought Sealink as she gazed calmly at it. So now she was nothing but an attraction now, she thought bitterly.

The little yautja did not wear a mask, his crab-like face exposed. The slightly large, yellow, predatory eyes darted around, taking in the sight of the human. The four tiny clawed mouth mandibles twitched independently. His head was huge, lightly jagged with premature spikes around the crown of his rounded skull. He did not have a nose or visible ears.

His flesh was patterned with yellow and orange. The eyes were wide and soft and curious under the heavy eye ridges and sunken sockets. Eyes. Something the Aliens did not possess. Only Sealink was lucky enough to have them. The little Predator’s snaky dreadlocks were up to his shoulder blades. He was dressed in nothing but a fish net mesh and a metal loincloth that covered his nether regions. At his wrists, he at least had his wrist blades.

Sealink’s curiosity got the better of her as she slinked toward the glass wall on all fours, her shoulder blades going up and down in their sockets like a cat’s. She paused in front of the small Predator, and then sat down, one leg up, the other folded across the floor.

For a long moment the two of them regarded each other, the girl and the hunter. Finally, Sealink said in the yautja language, “What do you want, yautja? Never seen a human before?”

The little Predator growled, flaring his mandibles.

Sealink sighed and said in a gentler voice, “What brings you down here, little hunter?”

The baby Predator seemed taken back, but hid it by growling, I’m not scared of you.

“I don’t see a reason why you should be,” clicked Sealink softly, cocking her head.

My sire says you are a dangerous killer who kills without honor.

Sealink eyed the little Predator, strangely hurt. “Now why would you say that, little hunter? That’s not nice.”

I don’t have to be ‘nice’ to a mere ooman, slave, clacked the little Predator.

Sealink chuckled softly at the Predator’s brazen manner. “True. You have every right to spit in my face, call me names, hurt my feelings. Everyone else does. But you’re not helping my homesickness.”

Homesick? What’s that?

“It’s the feeling when you get when you leave your home.”

I’m away with my sire from the homeworld, said the little Predator, not really understanding what Sealink was saying.

Sealink sighed, making her frame droop slightly. “You are still with the ones that love you, little hunter.”

The little Predator seemed to be taken back, but clicked arrogantly, What do then know about this ‘homesickness’? My sire said that there were no other oomans around when they captured you.

Sealink struggled to keep the pain down as she said softly, “But my family was there.”

Who?

“The ones you call ‘hard meats’. Aliens.”

You were living with hard meats! What do they look like? Are they big? Are they strong?

Sealink laughed despite of this and said, “You remind me very much of my son, Zizar. He asked a lot of questions, just like you. And yes, they are big and strong.” She drifted off, her voice dwindling. Damon. Oh, my sweet Damon.

The little Predator eyed her doubtfully. My sire has many hard meat skulls and scars. They are hard to kill, he says. How could you survive without them taking you as a host?

Sealink lifted her chin. “I am the Queen’s daughter. She took me in.”

She narrowed her eyes and lowered her head, smiling terribly. “She save me when I was nothing but a youngling who was the sole survivor of a yautja raid on my settlement. I escaped, barely. Mother found me. She raised me.” Sealink averted her eyes, almost choking on memories. Then she raised her head and said bitterly, giving a forced smile, “It is nice to speak to another after so many days of quiet. Perhaps you would like to grace my day with these conversations.”

The baby yautja snorted, but said, I will come when I feel like it, ooman.

“I have a name, you know.”

Do oomans have names? Are you fully Blooded?

“I don’t know about humans, but I do. And Blooded? Probably, whatever that means.”

I don’t get a name until my sire gives me one on my Training Day.

The little Predator turned, leaving.

“Sealink. I’m called Sealink.”

Whether the little hunter heard that, the Predator made no sign of acknowledgment, leaving Sealink to wallow in bitterness. Zizar. Damon. Mother.

Chapter 5

Everyday, little by little, the baby Predator would come down and speak with Sealink. Soon, Sealink grew to look forward for these meetings. It broke the boredom of the cage and she actually grew to like the little Predator. He seemed a little like Zizar in his questions, although there were differences between the two. The Predator was filled with childish arrogance, ruining the chances for a closer conversation than one would have been held with Zizar. But it was obvious the little Predator was loosening up and did not act all high-and-mighty around the girl quite so much.

In return for these visits, Sealink told the baby wondrous tales of hunts and fights and journeys with her kin. She told of Damon and Zizar and even a little of the Queen Herself.

From what she could make out, the child’s sire was called Dauncha and the leader of the ship. Apparently, Dauncha was the name of her captor and her master. Also, they would reach the homeworld very shortly, where she would aid in the teachings of ooman hunting. She would act as the ‘prey’ and let the young bloods capture her and practice their skill on her. Then, she would help teach the Blooded and even the fully fledged Warriors on how to fight like she did.

When telling this, the little Predator’s voice turned skeptical. Are you really that good?

Sealink gazed at him in her strange way that she had, cocking her head and allowing one eyelid to droop. “Give me a weapon—any weapon, I don’t care, or even no weapon at all—and I will show you.”

I don’t think it’s allowed. Besides, you might escape.

“Escape? I already promised your sire on my honor that I would obey him. He spared my son. I must keep my end of the bargain.”

The baby Predator eyed the girl. Back on the homeworld, my trainer says that oomans have no such thing as honor.

At this, Sealink bristled and lifted half her lip, reveling one fang. “No honor, he said?” She was silent, and then shrugged. “Oh well. Let him think that. But hark me, little hunter—he is wrong. I do have honor, or else I would be busting out of this cage and taking over this vessel in a heartbeat.”

You’re bluffing. No ooman could do such a feat, snorted the little Predator, one of his upper mandibles flared, the equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

Sealink settled back, cocking her own eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, little hunter? You don’t think I could do it?”

The baby yautja paused, scratching his neck. Well . . .

“Oh now you’re not sure? A moment ago you were so sure.”

Your honor would prevent you to do that, clicked the child.

“Oh now I’ve got honor? I thought you said I did not.”

Now the little hunter was getting flustered. Did I say that?

“Yes.”

Fine. You have honor of a sort. But please don’t escape and take over the ship.

“And why not? You did challenge me.”

The little Predator lowered his almost too big of a head for his body. Because my father would be furious with me for causing it all.

Sealink softened. “Very well. I give you my word that I will not do anything drastic as long as I am on the ship. Do we have an accord?”

You can not promise something you already promised, ooman.

“Fine. You got me.” Sealink suddenly paused, cocking her head.

What is it?

“Can not you hear it?” she asked, and then remembered. “Oh, right. Not among Aliens anymore. The ship has stopped and docked.”

Really! squeaked the little hunter. Home again!

Without turning back, he rushed away, leaving Sealink alone. Sealink sighed. Back to the beginning again, she thought as she scooted back to her corner, suddenly filled with weariness. If I am already weary, how can I continue?

I must be strong. Strong for Damon and the others. And Mother. Mother most of all. I must make Her proud. I will not waver. Her self-reflections was cut short when the reddish Predator and two others appeared in front of the glass wall. One of them had the black cable in his hands. Sealink shrunk by the wall, unconsciously bearing her lip. The door slid open and the leader took the cord from his minion’s hands. He then made his way to where Sealink was. He bent down to her level and grunted, Your hands.

Trembling with anger and bitterness, the girl thrust her hands at her enemy, locking them together. She met the Predator’s gaze coolly, never once taking her eyes off the yautja’s as he bound the hands tightly together. Then, when her hands were bound, he got up and pulled the girl toward the entrance of the ship. Growling ever so quietly to herself, Sealink had no choice but to follow.

Wherever this place was, it looked nothing like the one the girl was on previously before her capture. More like a jungle than the temperate forest of Sealink’s native home. As she and her charge walked off the ramp, some of the sentries even snorted disdainfully behind their masks, as if her very appearance offended them somehow.

Like Sealink gave a damn. Ha! She did not even want to be here! And here they were, acting as if she begged to be with the yautja. The nerve. Now more than anything she wanted to be by an Alien’s side. She winced at the still slightly tender ache of her side and tried to act humble, but she’d spent too much time in freedom and power to be humbled into a slave just yet.

She walked with a straight back and chin up, though she did not try to tempt any tempers by having eye contact, so she kept her eyes averted. She could hear guttural whispers and snippets of conversations among the ranks.

. . . an ooman? What is it doing here? . . .

. . . alive? Dauncha must be getting soft . . .

. . . wretched creature. I can smell its stench from here . . .

. . . pity it won’t last long . . .

Fury burned behind her eyeballs. LIKE HELL SHE WANTED TO BE HERE! ARRRRGGG! But her pact. She must remember her pact. She hardened her face as she imagined all skinned and spineless, like what they do to humans.

Sealink was led to a hut like place. It was large with four rooms: a bathing room, a sleeping chamber, a weapon’s room, and an eating chamber. Dauncha tied her to a post in his sleeping chamber. Along the walls there were tens and tens and tens of skulls of various creatures and some of them were even Aliens. Sealink licked a lip with revulsion.

For the first time since Sealink had been captured, the Predator began to remove his mask. He tugged a couple hoses free and a seal broke behind the mask. He pulled the visor away from his face. His huge rounded forehead was encircled with spikes and speckled with black markings that resembled the ones on his body; it appeared very reptilian. But his mouth gave him the more hideous appearance. Four claw-like mandibles jutted out of his face and converged together in the front. As I watched I noted that each mandible could move independently and the two larger lower mandibles were able to spread completely away from his face exposing another set of fanged, more human-like jaws.

His eyes, set deep in his skull and shadowed by his prominent brow, were yellow and flecked with red. They were the eyes of a Predator. Though they appeared quite sinister, they gave him a faint glimmer of humanity belied by his other alien features. Humanity. Sealink snorted to herself. He tore her away from Mother and the others. And now he was going to use her as a tool in planning strategies and techniques in hunting and fighting. Some humanity. By her Mother Herself! Sealink did not go around hunting the yautja, so why did they come after her? Like the Aliens, she took life when she needed to, killed when it was right. The yautja on the planet died because Sealink was protecting her family. It was not done in a reckless act of violence. If the yautja knew that her family existed, they would hunt them down and take their skulls and spines as trophies . . . .

At last he finished removing most of his armament, leaving him clothed in only his fishnet body suit, his belt, his loincloth, his wristbands and calf bands, and leather-looking shoulder pads. Then, without a sound he turned and took the cord that bound Sealink’s hands and led her into a smaller, barer room that held only a sleeping nest and two containers that would probably hold food and water when filled. The entrance of the ‘slaves’ room also had the glasslike wall like on the ship.

You will reside here when your duties are finished or whether I do not need you, rattled the huge Predator.

Sealink said nothing.

Your duties will begin tomorrow morning.

And the Predator left, leaving Sealink wallowing with terrible loneliness.

Chapter 6

Sealink was quiet and awake when Dauncha appeared by the door. He entered and slit the cable holding Sealink’s hands. Sealink observed the eight foot tall Predator. He wore nothing but his metal loincloth, his belt, taloned sandals, leather wrist bands, and his body mesh. His mandibles moved constantly. He clicked roughly, Come.

Seeing no other way but obey, Sealink followed. The reddish hunter walked outside and went around the hut, toward a sandy ring where there was another yautja waiting. This one was—hell, how was this possible!—even taller than Dauncha. His dreadlocks were even longer than the leader, but he still thumped his chest with respect toward the more reddish one. Dauncha shoved Sealink toward the taller one.

Here your lessons will begin, Dauncha said simply and walked away, back toward his home, leaving Sealink and the tall one.

The two looked at each other until the huge Predator snorted with disdain. So, he growled, his voice even lower than her captor’s. You are the ooman that Dauncha talked so much about.

Sealink blinked. This one seemed less refined than Dauncha, rougher. She said, “Dauncha never talked about you before.”

Silence! roared the Predator. Your first lesson in becoming a slave: you will not speak unless spoken to. You will not reply back in any way shape or form that is disrespectful or you will receive the most painful beating you will ever get in your life.

Sealink bit back an angry retort.

The Predator began to slowly circle her, eyeing her up and down, his breath rattling in his throat. Sealink stood tall. She stood her 5’5 height and there were things to boast about and none were shameful. There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh or fat on her body lean, tight body. Unlike the yautja, she bore flat, wiry muscles instead of bulging muscles. Her nearly white blonde hair was tied in a horsetail with one or two strands of hair making their way in front of her face. All for her clothing was her fur loincloth tied around her waist and her soft deerskin top that was cut diagonally so that one shoulder was completely bare and the other semi covered. Her firm belly showed the taunt six pack.

Kneel.

Sealink hesitated. Bad move.

I said kneel! roared the giant, hitting the back of her legs with a staff that he must have hidden behind his back.

Grimacing with pain, Sealink dropped to her knees with an Alien hiss. The hiss sounded just like a true Alien’s hiss and caused the giant Predator to jerk with surprise—although he hid it in a seemingly normal jerky step.

Better. This is the position you shall assume whenever in the presence of a hunter that needs your service. Bow your head.

Swallowing her pride, Sealink obeyed.

Good. This is the proper position for a slave. Now get up.

Sealink got up, ignoring the new ache in her legs. She stared ahead as the Predator continued to circle.

I am Ra’ka, head Trainer here. Why Dauncha wants me to include you in the training program, I still have no idea. You will obey me as your superior, as well as all the other hunters. Even the pups are higher ranked than you. From now on, you are the lowest of the low. Got that?

“Yes,” whispered Sealink, her eyes averted.

Yes, what? clicked the trainer, cocking his head aggressively.

“Yes . . . sir.”

Better. Now, for first duty you will help Dauncha in ooman training. Come with me.

Sealink went to follow the huge Trainer, but was stopped by a slap with his staff across the head.

A slave, a slave! Walk with your head bowed at all times, a symbol of your submission, slave.

Sealink quivered with suppressed anger, but obeyed, a new hurt added to her growing list. The Trainer snorted, and turned, walking out of the sandy ring. Sealink followed, her head bowed in submission. The only thing that kept her from springing at the Trainer’s throat was Zizar’s image in her head. And so, she followed, keeping her emotions and urges in check.

Sealink followed Ra’ka, looking at her surroundings with a hidden eye, making sure her posture was one of a perfect slave’s. They made their way to a huge . . . what was it? Sealink had to narrow her eyes at the thought that she was actually going to be in a ‘training’ area for the young yautja pups. There were five rows of about six young adolescent Predators stationed, dressed in nothing but their metal loincloths and fish net body mesh. The air was thick with the oily musk of aggression and energy from the thirty young bloods. Sweat streamed down their reptilian skin in the hot and humid and muggy air of the homeworld and twin suns.

Dauncha, dressed like the pups, turned his crab-like face to them and motioned for Sealink to come forth. Sealink was filled with apprehension and confusion and aggression, but she hid it as she was shoved forward by Ra’ka. She went by her captor’s side and assumed the position by kneeling and keeping her head bowed. Above her, Dauncha gave a grunt of approval before turning back to the fidgeting young Predators. Some switched glances excitedly; others’ eyes were filled with the prospect of combating a real live ooman. They had never seen one apart from the stories told by the Elders. Did oomans bleed? What colour was their blood? Did they shriek in pain . . .?

Dauncha caught the glances and murmurs and growled, This ooman is my slave and my property—I had to go through a lot of trouble to obtain her, so I don’t want her damaged in any way shape or form unless she had it coming.

Some of the Predators clicked their upper mandibles in laughter.

Dauncha bent over and picked Sealink by the back of her neck, hoisting her in the air as if she weighed nothing at all. Sealink dangled there, not moving, feeling the warmth of the Predator’s hand on her neck. She had never felt more vulnerable.

This is an ooman, obviously. This is a female just barely reaching the age of growth where her mammal glands would develop. As you can see, oomans don’t weigh as much, probably around the 100 to 150 pound range for females. In males, they could reach up to 150 to 240 pounds. In males, look for the robust, strong and large ones. If you are hunting females, look for the ones that aren’t pregnant nor if is carrying a young. Yes, said Dauncha, nodding to one of the yautja up front.

The young pup took a step forward and said, How do you tell the difference between the genders?

Dauncha eyed Sealink hanging there. She cast him a look. How silly she must be, hanging like a specimen for all to see!

You see their chests? Females carry breasts for feeding their young and their hips are wider than a males for the birth canals during pregnancy. Any other questions?

Another young pup stepped up. Why are oomans worthy prey? Your slave seems weak, nothing compared to a hard meat.

Dauncha nodded sagely. That is a good question, young one. Yes, it is true that they lack our strength and ability to heal. But their true strength lies here. With his other hand, he placed his hand on top of Sealink’s head, tapping it lightly. The sensation sent cold water splashing down her spine, giving her the shivers despite the heat.

What they lack in strength they make up for in cunning and intelligence. Never underestimate your prey, as we will see shortly.

Many of the young Predators cast eager glances, some of the pup’s eyes filling up with blood lust.

Dauncha clicked his upper mandibles rapidly in laughter. Don’t get too eager. You’ll find that this particular ooman will be rather hard to subdue.

It doesn’t seem so ferocious in your grasp, though, commented another yautja, much more greener than the others.

I am the Leader here. Even she respects my dominance.

The green hunter gave a quick snort. With respect, leader . . . but I find that our mere presence is cowering it into submission.

Dauncha cocked his head slyly. Only he knew the answer to the great secret. Yes, it would seem so, wouldn’t it? Then you wouldn’t mind if you fought her first, would you?

The green Predator seemed taken back, and then quickly thumped his chest and growled, I accept your challenge, Leader. But I don’t wish to harm it . . . too badly.

I understand, Kra’teck. But since I am allowing you all means in subduing her, if she gets harmed it’s her fault.

A battle-lust glow entered Kra’teck’s eyes. Pa! An easy challenge! his stance seemed to say for him as he bowed his head in deference to his leader’s wishes. Sealink heard the exchange silently and inwardly was utterly eager to fight. Oh, how she felt like teaching these things how she was not some weakling to be taken lightly. She felt the rush of battle enter her own veins in her keenness. She unconsciously tensed, impatient for the fight.

Dauncha looked over to the ooman in his grasp and felt her tense with enthusiasm at the prospect at a tussle. His infrared vision picked up the spike in her temperature. She is eager for battle, he thought as he walked over to the centre of the ring, still holding her by the neck. Like a true hunter. Even though she was living with a bunch of hard meats!

All the young Predators sat on the sidelines, watching with bored stances. What would they expect? A mere ooman girl-child just barely past puberty fighting one of the better fighters of the young bloods? Kra’teck was reckoned to be a very skilled fighter who trained for countless hours. Besides, Dauncha was secretly called crazy for going such lengths in bringing back the female ooman. They heard that he had to travel over a week in spaceship just to get to the fabled ooman’s planet while Earth, the main homeworld for all oomans laid just four days away. And on top of that, the stories went that he lost five good Predators on the mission. Silly Dauncha. All that effort for nothing—his slave would be undoubtedly beaten soundly.

Dauncha noticed all the looks and whispers passing among the young bloods, but he hid his smile. They would all be in for a surprise after watching the ooman fight. He watched Kra’teck flex his muscles, laughing with his buddies, not at all worried or even thinking at defeat. He was acting as though it was a small thing. Then the Leader turned to his dropped the slave on the ground.

She was tense and as taunt as a cable wire. Sealink was trembling with impatience and eagerness to fight. It has been so long, oh how she wanted the blood and blows to be exchanged! She strained by Dauncha’s leg, giving involuntarily the fervent battle whine of an Alien.

Dauncha’s keen ears picked up the familiar and eerie whine of the Alien. The girl was ready to fight, her shoulder blades popping slightly out of her skin like a cat’s. Dauncha nudged the girl with a steel-covered foot. The ooman looked at him, waiting, silent.

He said aloud so that all could hear his words, Remember, this is a training session. Unless you are challenged to a fight, you cannot have the power to kill here. Even if you are given the opportunity, refrain. His face, posture and voice was stern and commanding.

Sealink bowed her head in acknowledgement, although sighed inwardly. She had never had anything or anyone force her not to follow through with the kill. That would lead to a painful climax with no outlet. Fine. Very well.

Turning, Dauncha growled out loud to the Predators, This ooman has lived with hard meats for most of her life. Observe her tactics of attack, for many may be similar to real hard meats.

That caught the attention of some and the disbelief of others. A mere ooman, living with the fabled worthy prey they so passionately hunted that claimed many lives of hunters of every rank and experience? Impossible!

Now, how many think this ooman can fight better than you?

All the Predators were silent, some snorting and growling with indignation. Dauncha looked around. None of you?

All the yautja were silent, their answer obvious.

Good. I shall ask you again the same question after the sparring.

Dauncha singled that Kra’teck could being the combat, and stepped away from the two of them. Sealink immediately got up from her submissive, slave pose, rolling her neck and shoulders aggressively. How good it was to be free to fight and not act so cowed!

With a growl, Kra’teck rushed at the ooman, intending to force her to back up. But Sealink did not even react until the last possible second, where she scooted out between his flailing arms thrashed him a good one with a powerful kick to his knee. With a surprised and strangled roar, Kra’teck launched himself at the ooman with a vengeance. He will make her pay!

But Sealink was everywhere, whenever. He just could not get to her. Her fingers became claws and she scratched and tore his skin. She darted his every strike and slashed and gave a war screech just like a true hard meat. The Predators on the bleachers all felt shivers down their spines: it was as if they were in the presence of not a human, but of a black hard meat Warrior. Sealink was like a whirlwind of fury, pelting the green hunter with bone shattering blows. She seemed like she was dancing, snarling and shrieking, hissing and spitting.

Kra’teck thought he was fighting smoke. He just could not get close enough to truly land her any blows. She was everywhere. Wham! Her foot suddenly caught full on his face, causing him to spit fluorescent green blood. One of his mandibles was definably sprained. He stumbled back and opened his eyes wide to see Sealink leap up to his eye level and give him a spinning ninja roundhouse kick, catching him full in the face again. This time, he was thrown off his feet and rolled on the sand a few times before coming to a halt.

Sealink crouched on all fours, an aggressive, challenging hiss spewing from her mouth, her teeth bared, her nose wrinkled in a snarl. If she had a tail, it would have been lashing in rage and battle-lust. She arched her back, waiting for Kra’teck to get up so she could unleash her pent up fury.

But Kra’teck did not get up. He groaned, touching his sore mandible. He had enough. Although he was a young blood with pride, he was not stupid. He knew he was beaten, and did not press the point. He gave the signal of defeat, backing slowly away on unsteady, slashed legs.

The watching Predators were thunderstruck. They had just witnessed a mere she-child ooman slave beat one of the best fighters in the young blood group. The ooman fought like a devil—or a hard meat. If indeed she did, then that only strengthened their resolve to train harder than ever—something Dauncha was looking for. He clicked in approval at his trainees’ behaviors. They were acting like true Warriors now, learning from their mistakes and weaknesses.

The leader turned to Sealink. She was still in the aggressive crouch, waiting expectantly like a wolf straining at a bunch of sheep. As she had predicted, there was no outlet for the climax and at her height of adrenaline and fury, it was physically painful that she did not go for the kill. She forced herself to calm down, taking steadying, deeper breaths. At least now she proved she was more than an ooman slave. Sealink’s fine tuned ears caught the beckoning, commanding rattle from her captor. She turned her head and paused.

What was this? Was the ooman going to turn on her master? The other Predators in the stands bent forward eagerly, waiting for a fight. Dauncha narrowed his eyes and pointed to the ground right by his feet. Sealink gave an inward growl, and crouched by his feet obediently. Now that some of her aggression and indignation was vented, it seemed easier to obey the commands.

This act of obedience was received with awe and much speculation. This ooman slave had just beaten a fellow yautja. Her skills were remarkable. She could probably beat every one of them, but now she was submissive and meek at the Leader’s side. She obediently got up and followed Dauncha’s orders out of a fighting crouch. Obviously it must have been great skill, strength or cunning so subdue such a fighter. This only heightened the young bloods’ respect and reverence toward Dauncha. It was plain as day that Dauncha was not weak and obviously it would be foolhardy to challenge him in a duel if he could control the ooman.

Now I ask again: who thinks they could be defeated by the ooman?

At this the trainees stirred in their seats. Although pride grumbled against it, they all placed their right hands over their chest, a sign that they agreed. Dauncha nodded his head sagely.

Now that was just without weapons or armor. The ooman was completely unarmed nor did she have any protection. Keep that in mind the next time we meet. Train hard, honor your ancestors, respect your Elders. Now go.

At this, Sealink watched all the Predators, including the one she had mastered, raise their right hand and thump it against their chests, roaring. And then, they all turned to leave, leaving Ra’ka, Dauncha, and Sealink alone in the massive training area.

Dauncha rattled, Good. More next week, ooman.

Sealink watched him turn his back and leave her with the Trainer. She watched as Ra’ka eyed her impassively, though the tiniest speck of admiration flickered in his deep set eyes. He clicked, Come, slave.

I guess I’m back to where I’ve started, thought Sealink, grumbling to herself. I have to think of a plan before I utterly go crazy. This is stupid. I just want to go home. A slave! I wish I was back home.

She thought along those lines all the way back to Dauncha’s home.

Chapter 8

Sealink entered her ‘room’, feeling exhausted, her emotions wearing her down rather than the sparring match with the Predator. She sighed; she wanted to be so alone, and yet she yearned to have the black and shiny body of her Alien mate by her side. The thought of Damon alone brought a wince of physical pain. It only hardened her resolve that one day she would escape and returned back to her beloved family, the only family she truly felt at ease and one with.

Sealink collapsed on her ‘bed’, utterly exhausted now. Within seconds, not feeling hunger or thirst, she fell into the darkness of sleep.

Sealink woke up a few hours later by a by a heavy tap on her shoulder. Her eyes flew open and she immediately tensed. It was Ra’ka, his heavily muscular arms crossed over his broad and scarred chest. Why is he here? What does he want . . . oh yeah. I’m a slave. Damn. How many days I’ve been told that and I’m still not used to it! What is he waiting for . . .? Oh yeah.

Grimacing behind an emotionless mask, Sealink assumed the ‘slave’ position, on her hands and knees, head bowed, waiting for the Trainer’s command.

Took you long enough. Come.

With that, Ra’ka spun around and proceeded to walk out of the girl’s quarters. Sealink had no choice but to follow, following the giant yautja like a dog. Ug. She hated having to do that. She tagged after Ra’ka right out of the leader’s dwelling and made their way to the mini training area. The air was hot and humid as ever and Sealink sweated freely, despite her light and scanty clothing. How she missed the coolness of the forest back on her home planet.

The giant Predator clicked his lower mandibles as he paused, just at the boundary of the training sands. Curiosity overriding her wariness and distrust, Sealink peaked around the yautja’s massive legs to spy the little Predator training by himself, cutting the air with fancy patterns with an ornate dagger. What was this? thought Sealink as she watched the baby Predator pretend to be fighting imaginary foes.

Ra’ka purred softly in his throat, his great and rigid stance softening. Sealink watched as the baby spun around, clasping his dagger in his right hand and thumping it against his chest, gesture of respect. Ra’ka bowed his head in amusement to the little hunter.

The Trainer rumbled, his voice as deep as thunder, Your skill is improving. Soon you will be able to bring your sire much pride.

The little hunter swelled his little chest up importantly, clicking his stubby little mandibles with pleasure at the compliment.

I have brought you a training partner of sorts so that you may practice on a real prey, said Ra’ka, moving aside to allow the little hunter to see Sealink.

The baby’s yellow eyes widened with surprise at upon seeing the ooman of the spaceship.

Really?

Ra’ka nodded his huge head and turned to Sealink. As fast as lightning, he reached down and hoisted Sealink up in the air by her throat, his grip tight but not painful, just enough to show that he was not kidding.

If you harm him in any way, you’ll receive the most painful beating you’ll ever receive in your life, got that ooman? Ra’ka growled dangerously, his two toned eyes narrowed threateningly.

He must obviously care for the youngling very much, thought Sealink as she hung there, not daring to fight back in the hands of the massive Predator.

Sealink pretended to gulp nervously and said meekly, “Yes, Trainer.”

Ra’ka narrowed his eyes further, but dropped the girl. Sealink fell to the ground on her hands and feet, keeping her head down, letting the Trainer decide where she was going to go. Finally, the Trainer not-so-gently ‘nudged’ Sealink forward with his steel-sandaled foot toward the baby. Then he turned and went to sit in some sort of chair that looked like a stone throne, crossing his arms over his chest and setting back. He closed one eye, but Sealink instinctually knew that he was alert and attentive. Just like Zaphara when Zizar trained his tail skills with the amused and laughing Damon.

Grimly, Sealink pushed the memories of her beloved family and focused at the task at hand. She walked over to where the yellowish hunter waited, gripping his dagger. Sealink looked at him. Unlike the other Predators, she did not feel automatic animosity toward him. Instead, she felt a certain and reluctant feeling of affection. Affection? This thing before her was downright ugly compared to the smooth and sleekness of an Alien—but the it was the eyes that go to her.

Eyes were special for me, I guess, to this day. For years I’ve grown up with the Aliens, but none of them had eyes to share with me. But now, with these yautja, I am not alone with this wonderful gift. Well, I say gift—Mother told me once that foul meats see only in infrared and different light spectrums other than the one that enables you to see colour. Strange, huh? But eyes nonetheless. And this little Predator’s eyes were soft and yellow—nothing but child’s eyes. Innocent of all wrongs and natural arrogance that young bloods and Warriors or the even Elders possessed. You know? That little Predator was almost cute, so cute that for a moment I forgot all my hatred that Mother taught me to feel toward the yautja. Maybe this one was different. Maybe . . .?

Sealink picked up a wooden dagger, watching Ra’ka’s reactions from the corner or her eye. No motion from the seemingly still Predator. All’s well for now. Sealink rested on her haunches, unblinking, watching for the little hunter’s move. After a minute of planning, the Predator baby feinted a thrust to the left and brought the blade down suddenly to the right.

Sealink did not even blink as she gave a violent, powerful side hit, skillfully knocking the dagger out of the child’s hands. All at once, the Predator’s attack ended as he looked at his hand where his dagger once was. Where did it go? How could this mere ooman defeat him so quickly?

“Try that again, little hunter,” said Sealink, her voice neutral, keeping any emotion such as gloating or smugness out. She already witnessed how tender Predators’ prides were.

The little hunter gave a ‘growl’ that sounded like a high-pitched rattle as he went over to retrieve his dagger from the sand, this time attacking the girl with many skillful thrusts. Sealink saw all of them coming, thanks to countless of hours in countless of months of training with her Alien kin, dodging them all of them. Finally, after she was getting bored with staying on the defense, she repeated her lightning flash attack on the handle of the baby yautja’s dagger.

Once again it flew across and landed in the sand, leaving the young pup defenseless.

“Why don’t you get your knife and attack me in a more slower fashion,” suggested Sealink.

I don’t take orders from you, slave, grumbled the little Predator sulkily, his pride being wounded after being defeated by an ooman slave twice in less than five minutes.

“Just trust me. Your Trainer obviously wants me to teach you a few moves if I’m not mistaken. So right now, I’m your Trainer, and you’re going to do what I say, got it?”

The little Predator’s mandibles flared wide in an expression of utter surprise at Sealink’s tone. The baby yautja looked over to Ra’ka, as if seeking support. The giant hadn’t moved, nor did he show any signs of moving from his place in the shade. If anything, an amused look covered his features.

Suddenly, the Predator switched tactics as he launched himself at Sealink, giving his immature roar. Sealink caught both his wrists easily and using the little Predator’s own momentum, pinned the youngling to the ground as gently as she could. She crossed the little hunter’s arms in front of his chest, position like an Egyptian mummy. As much as the little Predator struggled and fought the grip, Sealink’s grip was vice like.

“Lesson number 1: Never Attack In Anger. Anger makes you blind and allows you to make silly mistakes, like what you did now.”

The little Predator looked up from the ground, interest in his eyes, as well as respect at Sealink’s greater knowledge.

Now we are getting somewhere!

“Good. Now, you are in this position, pinned down to the ground. The best way to remove yourself from this predicament is to place your foot—yes, that’s it—on my chest—right there, good—and push upward. The force will jerk me back, allowing you to break free. Ready to try it?”

Yes.

“Good. Now push up—!”

With a kick, the baby yautja thrust upward, catching Sealink between her breasts. As he did that, Sealink was forced to jerk backwards, just as she had predicted. The little hunter wrung his leather-clad wrists out of the girl’s hands and back away, his stubby mandibles twitching.

Sealink nodded her approval, giving the Alien hiss of praise.

“Very good, very good. Now come at me again just as you did before.”

Without question the baby hunter did as he was told, lunging forward like what he did before. Sealink skillfully flipped him on his back on the sand, but her triumph was short lasted when a sandaled foot kicked her chest, causing her to once again jerk forward, allowing the baby yautja to wrench free.

“Excellent,” Sealink purred, now trying her hand at the Predator’s noise of a compliment. “One last time.”

This time, the attack, tumble, roll, kick and twist happened perfectly and seamlessly. Sealink rubbed her slightly sore chest, but clicked her approval again. “You learn quickly, little hunter. Your Trainer was right—you will bring pride to your sire if you keep your practice up.”

Once again, the little Predator’s chest began to swell with pride.

“Now, listen carefully. What I have just taught you will allow you to get out of cornered situations if you are pinned down by an Alien or any other adversary. Now, another way to do it is to . . .”

For the entire day until the humidity of the planet dropped and the two twin suns were almost touching the horizon. Sealink was coated with sand, dust and sweat and the little Predator was in the same predicament. Sealink felt a rush of memory at the days of training the little Zizar and how he showed the same eagerness to prove himself in battle.

For the entire time, the little Predator obeyed her without question, learning quickly that even though she was an ooman slave, she was a wise, cunning, and clever ooman slave. And on top of that she knew how to fight. Respect filled the little Predator for her because knowing how to fight was an inessential skill in surviving in the yautja culture and way of life.

Sealink coughed, and repeated one last exercise with the Predator, only this time she allowed herself to be caught by the little hunter, who put his dagger’s edge right by her white throat. Sealink did not react, nor did she move, showing her submission. The little Predator’s stubby mandibles widened and closed—he himself was tired after a long day of training.

He released Sealink, puffing his little chest with pride at his accomplishment, though he did not know that Sealink let him win. The little Predator strutted out of the training area, looking forward for a nice hot bath and a good meal.

Sealink heard and saw a movement out of the corner of her eye, knowing full well that the massive Trainer was getting up from his chair. Sealink got down in slave position reluctantly, lowering her head in obedience. She braced herself, hoping the Trainer would just hurry up so that she could sleep. She was so tired. Why doesn’t that yautja hurry up? she thought as she could hear Ra’ka pausing right in front of her, his giant frame dwarfing hers.

After a second later Sealink found herself being hoisted in the air by the back of her upper garment. The humiliation! The Queen’s daughter, being lift up in the air like a sack of potatoes being expected for the store! But remembering Zizar, she allowed herself to be placed in the air. She hung there, right at eye level, staring in the two toned eyes.

The Trainer flared a mandible, rattling softly in his throat.

You did . . . well.

A compliment from a yautja! Wow, it really must be my lucky day, thought Sealink tiredly. She drooped in the air, hoping the Predator wouldn’t be insulted if she slept right there and then.

Chapter 9

Sealink woke up that morning (or at least I think it’s morning. I can not see the light of day from my room, but I felt refreshed) to find that her water and food bowl had been filled. Distrustfully, Sealink craned her head to make sure she was alone and unwatched when she was to eat. Something about eating the food that she did not hunt for herself still rankled, and she did not want to feel even lower by being caught eating.

She lifted her lips in an Alien fashion, smelling her food with her weak nose. Her sense of smell was still a humans, despite her daily ritual of cursing her human weakness. The meat was strange and it looked like it was the remains of some sort of squirrel. Should she—?

What would be the point in poisoning a slave? thought Sealink logically as she took a careful sip at the water. The liquid felt strangely thicker than water, like blood, but it was a cooling balm against the parchness of her throat. “Ahhhhhh . . . .”

Almost guiltily, she allowed a moan of bliss. So good. She had forgotten how it felt to have some goodness in her throat. She had planned to drink in great draughts, but a single sip satisfied her. Gingerly, she tested the raw meat. It had a salty, gamy taste, but good nonetheless. Just like when she was back with her fam—

No. I can not think of them. It hurts too much. Then why do I feel so terrible in abandoning them? Sealink thought angrily, ripping into the meat viciously. Why should I be here anyway! These foul meats think me as an ‘ooman slave’, the lowest of the possible low, even though I could beat them in a fight. Why would they want me anyway? Why don’t they leave me and my family alone? My family loved me, respected me, treated me fairly. The yautja came to the planet of our family by choice—it’s their own stinking fault they died.

When Sealink finally realized that the meat in her hands were ripped apart in agitation. Giving the Alien grunt of disgust, she retreated in the farthest corner, sulking, her good mood thrashed. She was in a bad mood that grew steadily worse and worse until her keen ears picked up the sound of her ‘door’ opening. She turned, instinctually wary and bristling.

A slave. Just a slave.

She got down grudgingly in the slave position. She heard the Predator grunt in approval.

Come.

Here goes nothing, thought Sealink as she quickly walked after the receding figure of Dauncha. She followed him into the leader’s main part of the dwelling, the centre of the home. Strangely, there seemed to be no other yautja around. Where was Dauncha’s mates, or the mates’ offspring? Were their any other slaves besides her? The house seemed so quiet—where was her little sparring partner?

But her questions went unanswered as the hunter led the girl into a large room filled with all sorts of assorted weaponry. Spears, guns that shot deadly nets, wristblades, plasma cannons of all sorts of shapes and sizes. Knives, short curving swords. By the Mother Herself there seemed to be three whole walls of just weapons. Throwing stars (or shuirkens, as they were called) disks, propelled spears, comisticks . . . good Mother. But what would he want me here, in this room of rooms?

Dauncha fingered a pair of wristblades almost lovingly. Sealink kneeled at attention, wary and watching the big Predator’s every move. What was he going to do? Test her reflexes? Relax, Sealink, she told herself almost sternly . . . almost.

The Predator leader turned and growled at the girl, It has been a long time since I have had a slave. Clean them. Clean them all.

What! ALL of them!

Sealink lowered her head. “Yes . . . master.”

Good. You will find what you need in the corner over there.

Then he roughly brushed past the girl and closed the door, leaving Sealink alone with rows upon rows of weapons. For a long moment, Sealink felt torn apart, frozen, like a deer in the headlights.

Weapons. With these she could easily escape and kill any that stand her way. She could hide a couple, just enough to serve her purpose. Escape? For a sweet, clear moment, that idea shown through her mind. Ahhhhhh . . . . it pulsed, a perfect and pure plan. Yes, everything would turn out alright. This was, anyway, all just a bad dream. Just take a few weapons, get off this foul meat planet, and return home. Home.

Home.

The effect of that one word was like honey to the tongue, soothing and beautiful. There, in that large room of weapons, Sealink felt never so alone. Home. In the weapons room, it showed her how far away she was from her family and her Mother, her beautiful, ugly, deadly and loving Mother.

She reached out with careful fingers to caress a terrible pair of wristblades that were attached to a leather gauntlet. It was a yautja blade, light and deadly and beautiful—just like Aliens. She stood there, holding the blade to her chest, a plan already forming in her quick and clever mind. Yes, she could see it now: on a ship, free, returning to her family—her kin and kith that loved and honoured her! Yes! She would do it! She would go home!

A sudden thought stopped her. Was this all a trick? What if Dauncha planned all of this? What if he was waiting just behind the door with several others, waiting to beat her for her treacherous acts against her master? What if Dauncha was in this in this room, cloaked and seething with wrath at Sealink’s disloyalty.

Sealink froze again, transfixed at that thought. She listened closely, listening to her own ragged breathing. No one else in the room but her. Her tenseness gave way to terrible sadness. No. She could not. Zizar. She had traded his life for hers. She could not turn back on her honour, not now, not when she had gone so far. She gently put the wristblades back on their pedestal thing, amazing herself as she did it in the same loving manner as the tall Predator. Lovingly? This device of death? Yes, what is there not to love about it? Its sleekness, its smoothness, its perfectness. In the blade, Sealink saw her Aliens, and loved the blade for that.

She looked around the room and sighed. It was as if she was surrounded by her family. She went to the corner that the hunter had pointed to and found a bucket of the strangely thick water that were slightly covered with foam suds and a sponge thing. Sealink lugged the bucket in about the centre of the room along with the sponge. She looked around and noticed a rough bench hidden in another inconspicuous corner. She took it out and placed it right besides the bucket and went her way to the rows and rows of weapons on the first wall.

“Which one of you pretties shall I clean first? How about Mother. Where are you, Mother?” sighed Sealink softly in the Alien tongue, hissing and mingling high warbles of the Alien speech. It felt so good to speak in her native tongue—the tongue that sounded like music to Sealink’s ears, high pitched and hissing. Beautiful. Nothing like the gruffness and continuous clicks and rumbles and growls of yautja speech.

“Ah, why you, of course!” she skreeeed softly with triumph, taking an ornate black dagger from the rack. She carved a fluid pattern in the air, testing the weight and form of the dagger and found it pleasing and perfect. There was not a single flaw. She wove with the dagger, closing her eyes with bliss, taking solace that she was with a blade for the first time in about a week. Finally, when she was finished with her ‘testing’ she took it with her to the bench.

She sat down and began to scrub the blade gently with the water dipped sponge, as if she was actually washing the black shiny ribbed hide of her Mother. She hummed to herself as she washed it. Before she knew it, the ornate black dagger was cleaned and ready to be placed back on the rack. She did so and went to pick out a spear.

She whirled it around her waist faster and faster and went into a crouch, one hand touching the ground lightly while the other held the spear aloft. Oh by her Mother she loved this! She leapt in the air, the spear whining, as if crying out thirstily for blood. But she quickly stopped after a bit to wash it. After cleaning it she placed it back, murmuring “Damon” before utterly letting it go.

Then the next. And the next. For each weapon she tested it out, her body transformed for a split second into a deadly, graceful, powerful killing machine before transforming back into a human slave who yearned to be back with her adopted family. To each she gave a name, to each she cleaned until it could be cleaned no more. In fact, she actually did not see this as a chore, but rather a strange way to connect back to her Alien kin.

How much time has it passed? Sealink had no idea, and did not care, although her hands were all wrinkly from washing so much and her back was sore from leaning over. She felt tired but too engrossed with her cleaning to care. Before she knew it, every weapon, be it blade, disk, shuirken, net, spear, blade, knife, sword, dagger, or plasma cannon, was cleaned and shined. As the girl sat back, feeling oddly refreshed, there was a crackling noise.

Sealink bolted to her feet, her eyes widening aggressively and a startled hiss forming between her teeth as the blue electrical sparks gave way to a massive 8’4 figure. Ra’ka. The Trainer finished decloaking himself, making himself present to the girl.

He was here the entire time! Sealink was blown away at how still and quiet he was. She had seen yautja cloaking technology before: if someone looked very closely, they would have noticed a blurry space in the place of normal vision with a faint outline if the Predator moved at all. Of course, humans had the advantage because of their colour vision and good sight so if they paid close attention.

But that’s if they moved. Sealink actually prided herself to her keen vision, almost always catching sight of the tiniest bit of movement on a Predator’s part. But the Trainer . . .

Ra’ka was wearing a mask with simple design and yet intricate in its own special way. That’s probably how he’s been keeping so silent for so long, thought Sealink. The mask keeps his breathing muted. Clever . But how did he stay so still for so long!

Getting over her shock and surprise, she groaned mentally as she lowered herself in the slave position, her aching back and hands and knees complaining for the first time. She waited, but did not have to wait for long.

It was getting painfully familiar that she was hoisted in the air once more, being held up by her upper garment in the Trainer’s mammoth hands. Fearlessly and a bit rebelliously, she gazed at the cold and expressionless mask eyes. Ra’ka cocked his head, this time his clicking rattle sounding behind the mask. For a long time, the both of them did not say a word, just staring into each other’s faces.

Finally, what seemed to be an eternity, Ra’ka ‘gently’ put Sealink down and rattled curtly,

Come.

Sighing ever so softly to herself, she came.

Chapter 10

After the weapons room, Sealink was left alone for a few hours, leaving her to take a nap before she was roughly awakened by Ra’ka again. Stifling a yawn, she hissed with displeasure but rose anyway, following him meekly until she met Dauncha, dressed in a light casual armor around his broad shoulders and chest. He wore his usual fishnet body mesh, black compared to his reddish cast of his body. He wore his belt and metal loincloth along with leather wrist and ankle bands. He must be going to someplace, thought Sealink. Someplace . . . like maybe a market place or something . . . . . . . .

But then, why would he want me? Surely I would embarrass him if I went with him . . .

Dauncha rumbled something at Ra’ka that was even too low for Sealink’s ears. Ra’ka garbled something just as low back. What the hell? Were they trying to ‘whisper’? Sheesh. They sounded like they were just growling like wild animals, thought Sealink sulkily, in her funny mood that she was in.

The two seemed to finish their discussion, Dauncha headed off into a docked ship, followed closely by Ra’ka. Sealink paused, unsure of what to do. Should she run—no. First of all, she must bid her time for the right and perfect moment, not a moment too soon. Alien patience. Alien patience. Must keep the Alien patience.

Should I follow, then? They did not say anything . . . should she? Then, as if remember something, Ra’ka turned his head and barked, Come on, ooman!

Sealink shuddered at her calling, but came nonetheless, hating fact that she forced herself ignore every instinct of running off in escape only to find herself still treated like a lump of dirt, despite all her displays at loyalty. Frustration coursed through her as she padded hurriedly after the hulking, massive figures.

She made it on as the docking door of the ship began to close and received a clip to the head that almost made her tumble head over heels by Ra’ka for almost missing the ship. Her head sore, she was forced to crouch by Dauncha’s tree trunk like legs like a dog asked to heel by a master as the ship rose high off the ground and made its way to the obvious city like complex off in the distance. Why was she going there? What waited for her there?

So many yautja! It made the air thick with the musky scent of so many Predators present. If she was not already forced to bow her head in submission, she would have fled the scene because of the overpowering presence of all the hunters. There were at least a couple hundred there, most seven to eight feet tall with a few six footers. There was one that was the biggest, most ferocious looking brute that Sealink had ever seen that she cowered instinctually with fear and wariness, crouching even lower to the ground as she padded quickly after Dauncha.

Good Mother! There were so many of them! Sealink felt herself growling deeply within her chest as she noticed out of the corner of her eye the contemptuous and scornful glances of passersbys gave her.

. . . . ha! Will you look at that! . . . .

. . . . What is it? Such an ugly looking thing . . . .

. . . . is not that thing supposed to be on a trophy wall? . . . .

. . . . that’s Dauncha, is not he? Why is he lugging that thing around? . . . .

. . . . it smells funny . . . .

Sealink was to the point of explosion, but thankfully Dauncha and Ra’ka headed off to a more secluded portion of the ‘city’. A city. Hmmm. Even though Sealink had never been to a human city, she would most probably agree with the word ‘city’ if she ever came across it in a picture book. There were shops and buildings and training areas and yautja selling weapons to drinks all across the streets. The roads were hard packed dirt, hardened by many years of use of the giant and heavy Predators. Yautja slaves hurriedly ran about, fulfilling errands that their masters wanted them to accomplish.

Sealink had never been more thankful to her captors as they entered a ‘bar’. Of course Dauncha took out the black cable and bound Sealink’s together to a post, as if she was a horse.

Without a word the reddish cast Predator left Sealink crouching by the post, bristling with suspicion of everything that went around. She was careful to keep her posture submissive, though, thinking that it was probably best that she played it safe and did not pick a fight with the bullies around this joint.

Of course, her luck was not very good and soon there were three swaggering young bloods, probably trainees taking a break between sparring matches, stepped out of a bar and made their way toward Sealink. Sealink felt herself tense up, a growl of warning building in her chest. The obvious ‘leader’ of the three looked down at the girl, a sneer scrawled on his crab-like face. His upper mandibles raised, an expression of contempt and disdain among the Predators.

What’s this? An ooman?

The others clicked their upper mandibles rapidly. They were laughing.

The ‘leader’ bent down from his 7’4 height and growled down at the girl, Shouldn’t you be on a trophy wall somewhere, ooman?

The two others’ mandibles clicked even faster; they were obviously cracked up at their ‘leader’s’ wit.

Sealink tried to act humble and meek, but pent up fury raged in her. She had been free too long among the Aliens to be humbled now! She HATED being made fun at and not doing anything!

She bared her rather sharp canines aggressively, slitting her eyes. Hidden by the post, she worked her wrists loose from the cabled twine, slipping them out but pretending that she was still tied.

“Leave me alone,” she forced herself to say in a calm, un aggressive fashion, although she sort of contradicted herself when her entire posture was cantankerous.

The three yautja seemed surprised that she could speak their language, but the leader’s astonishment lasted only for a few seconds as he snarled, I will teach you some respect for the better race, tetch-na ooman! (tetch-na is a slang term in yautja for female, and not a nice one either, probably equivalent to ‘bitch’)

Sealink was stung and furious—she did not ask to be bothered or insulted, hey! she did not WANT to be here! And here these Predators were, asking for a fight! Well, they messed with the wrong Alien, Sealink would say that much.

Faster than a blink, Sealink slipped out of her bonds and, using the post as leverage, kicked as hard as she could straight at the lead Predator’s head with all her strength. Fluorescent green blood mixed with spittle roped through the air as the Predator was launched back, his dreadlocks slapping his shoulders. The other two seemed bewildered that their ‘great and powerful leader’ was suddenly on the ground, holding his bleeding mouth with both hands while the once thought of helpless girl was now a snarling, raging she-demon. And probably the worse part of it all was that the girl was hissing menacingly in the same fashion as a real live hard meat.

As if actually amazed at seeing his own blood, the young trainee removed his hand from his mouth to realize that one of the mandibles was broken and one of his fangs of his inner mouth knocked out. Just as his yellow eyes began to narrow with his own aggressiveness, Sealink crouched right in front of him, her lips flexing up and down like Aliens’ lips and hissing again. She was frozen until with a flick of her body she twisted and thrashed him again with her foot, this time on the other side of the head. She was nothing more than a whirlwind of fury. She thrashed him right and left until she flashed her wrath upon the two others.

It was as if fighting smoke. She weaved and dodged between them, often positioning herself so that they actually ended up striking each other with hard punches and strikes. Finally, the ‘leader’, still grasping his wounded mandible and mouth, rattled, Let’s get out of here!

The others followed suite without a further look back at the sweating, panting Sealink. Sealink snorted with triumph, but returned back to her post. She quietly snuggled her wrists back into the noose and crouched, waiting, trying to still her pounding heart and heavy breath.

After what seemed to be like five minutes, Dauncha and Ra’ka reappeared out of bar, clicking their mandibles rapidly, laughing at a parting coarse joke. Sealink hid her smirk as the two paused, noticing the splatters of Predator blood on the dirt ground. Dauncha clacked his lower mandibles against his upper ones, an equivalent of a low whistle of admiration. Then he walked off, leaving Ra’ka to untie Sealink from the post.

Sealink was led into a massive arena, one even larger than the one close to Dauncha’s dwelling. This one was sort of like a mini Coliseum, thought probably three fourth the size of that. At least it was away from the hustle bustle and hostile stares from the yautja. Sealink looked up at the high noon twin suns, each clouded behind a red sky filled with wisps of white clouds. Even with her skimpy clothing, she was still hot.

Dauncha went out toward the middle, hailing three others. What was this? These must be the fabled Elders that Mother talked about back home, thought Sealink. They certainly dress and act that way—hold on, why are they pointing at me? Sssssss-ssssss! hissed Sealink in frustration. Why can not she be alone? Oh well. As long as she gets a scrap—just a scrap—of some sort of recognition afterwards, then she’d be fine.

Sealink squinted her keen hawk eyes, eyeing the three in the centre that were talking to Dauncha. Clearly of some sort of high rank. Their dreadlocks were somewhat ashy grey and hung past their still chiseled abs. One of them wore a red cap decorated with alien symbols. One of them wore a mask of enormous detail, each line and wave sculptured to perfection.

Three Elders from the Cen’jtra Clan, rumbled Ra’ka from his impressive height, squinting his eyes against the glare of the sand.

Is he talking to me?

Well, duh, who else is there to talk to?

Sealink decided to try her luck on the Trainer’s decidedly good temper. Anyhow, any Predator must be in a high humor to be speaking to her.

“Why are they here?”

Ra’ka eyed the girl for a moment before clicking, They are here out of curiosity. They want to see if the rumors are true.

“Ah.” Sealink said nothing more.

I too wish to see if the rumors are true.

That was unexpected. “Rumors . . .?”

Ra’ka cast another eye at me. Rumors that you could defeat the best fighter that ever lived.

Sealink gulped. “I fight because you ask me to fight. I hope . . . I hope I don’t dishonour anyone.”

Dishonour? How could you possibly dishonour anyone, little ooman? rumbled the Trainer, clicking his upper mandibles in laughter.

“If I win . . .”

Ra’ka cocked his head at the girl crouched by his leg. I doubt you will win, ooman, so you don’t have to worry about dishonouring anyone.

“What is that supposed—” began Sealink indignantly, but remembered her place unenthusiastically in the nick of time and said, “yes, master.”

Because her head was down, Sealink did not catch the strange look in the yautja’s eyes as he gazed down at the girl. It only lasted for a second then, with a snort, Ra’ka diverted his attention back to Dauncha and the Elders. Whatever conversation the four of them were having was apparently drawing to a close. Dauncha bowed his head in respect, and stepped aside, allowing the more dominate of the three Elders forward.

Sealink felt a lurch of apprehension in her gut. Before, she was fighting young hotheaded hunters. They fought for some pride from humiliation and for their pecking order in the unblooded ranks. But these Elders . . . they had a deep and fierce pride—one that was challenged easily. The Elders demanded nothing more than utter respect, anything below it would result in an immediate punishment. What would happen if one of them lost? thought Sealink uneasily, shifting her weight from one haunch to the other. They’d probably lose their status or rank . . . or worse yet, their pride would be so bruised and battered that they would accept nothing more than death! Aaaaahh! Choices, choices . . . .

Should she let them win, and risk Dauncha’s scorn? She would then have to start from the beginning by exerting her strange ‘ooman’ dominance. Or, she could try her best and defeat at least one of the Elders. I seriously hope they don’t take it personally, thought Sealink to herself, but a gut feeling told her that was nothing going to happen. Wait a minute—was she getting to confident? Here she was, thinking of what she should do if she won . . . who said anything about winning? These yautja may beat her!

At that thought, Sealink’s resolve was hardened. She had her own honour and pride to uphold. If they wanted a fight, they were going to get it. She wanted to be left alone—better yet, by her family’s side. Her mate’s side. Her mother’s side. Her son’s side.

With that in mind, Sealink kept her head in the respectful, if not strained, posture, allowing the highest ranked Elder forward. There was a disdainful growling above her that sounded like thunder.

Are you actually suggesting that this puny creature is a worthy opponent, Dauncha? the Elder growled, his aged and long mandibles moving independently from each other in suspicious disbelief.

Dauncha, behind the Elder, rattled, Yes, sir. It has proven to be a difficult challenge in subduing.

Sealink heard the shhhiiiink of a spear. She tensed, one hand balling in the sand, grasping at the gritty texture within it. The deadly point touched her smooth cheekbone, slowly making its way down to her chin where it applied pressure, forcing her chin up. Sealink looked up, straight into the yellow-orange eyes of the Predator. They were fierce and slitted. Sealink inwardly shivered. More and more she did not want to be here.

The Elder gave a click, continuing to trace the girl’s jaw line with the deadly end of the spear. Sealink did not make a move, knowing full well that he was testing her.

It has a strange lack of fear, surprisingly, rumbled the Elder in an offhand gesture.

Sealink bridled at the Elder’s response and gave a low and threatening Alien hiss. The Elder must have heard it because he jerked back slightly.

It shows insolence as well, the Elder rumbled even deeper, flexing his fingers on the spear’s shaft. I will not stand for this. Dauncha! Equip this ooman with—no, it shall be more fun at hand-to-hand combat.

Yes, sir, bowed the reddish captor of the girl. Sealink shifted, feeling a little unsure now. She fought with yautja who had no idea she could fight—and when they did fight, it was not too impressing to her. But now, she would be up against this hulking mass of flesh and muscle and power. A skilled hulking mass of flesh and muscle and power. Great. I really hope I get two days of sleep after this, thought Sealink glumly.

Give us room, clacked the Elder, signaling to the others to move aside. The surrounding hunters complied, leaving Sealink and the Elder room to fight. The Elder removed his red cape and tossed it on the sand, flexing his muscles and growling aggressively. Even though he was an Elder, he was still dangerous. If Dauncha screamed dangerous, than this Elder yowled deadly. Just great.

Sealink, still on all fours, waited for the big Predator to make his move first, forcing the Predator to strike his first blow. The Elder stomped toward her, his mandibles flared, imposing and aggressive. But Sealink did not move. She refused to be intimidated. It was only when he was close enough to kick her did she react, rolling hard to the right to avoid a fierce and rib-shattering lash from the yautja. Using her momentum, she flung herself upward to repeat the trick she used with Kra’teck, striving to land on his back to get at the neck.

The Elder was quick and clever. He seemed to sense that and spun around, ducking the girl’s lunge. Off balance, Sealink sailed overhead and twisted in mid air like a cat, landing on her four limbs just as a kick vibrated through her side. Ah!

Agony throbbed in waves, but it was dulled by the rush of adrenaline through her system. She pranced backward, snarling and skreeeeeeeeeing loudly, trying her own hand at intimidation. This had no effect on the Elder and he crouched, growling, his arms spread wide. He was small for a Hunter but bigger than she, probably three times her weight if only two meters taller. If he managed to get his claws on her, the fight would be over.

So don’t let it happen.

With a guttural roar, the Elder rushed her. He thrust one meaty hand forward to swat at her head., easily enough power to break her neck. Sealink sidestepped as she reached up and cupped his wrist with both of her hands, swung her upper body into his lunge, down and left. She let him do the work, simply redirecting his charge.

But the Elder was not a novice at hand-to-hand combat. He rolled, still landing heavily on one shoulder but not as bad as it would have been, his graying dreadlocks whipping his shoulders. His mandibles spread wide as he roared his anger. He furiously leapt for Sealink. Sealink sprang away in the nick of time, receiving a long gash along her belly from the Elder’s sharp claws, only to zigzag back, intent on finishing it. She leapt up.

Oh crap.

With an expert twist of his hand, the Elder grasped a foot and, still using her momentum, hurled her upward. Sealink shot through the air, twisting like a cat, trying to land on her feet. Sealink hit the sands, dazed for a minute. In that minute, she could hear the Elder coming closer, his pace easy and confident. He was so sure that he has finished me, thought Sealink indignantly. Think, think. A trick, a trick . . . ah! She tensed her shoulders, growling fiercely. She pretended that one of her legs were injured and that she could not use it. She scuttled backwards, her ‘injured’ leg straight and dragging in the sand. She continued to growl and snarl, her teeth flashing in the twin suns’ light.

The Elder was old and he had fought many, many battles and hunts to know something was up. He growled himself, but he did not attack right away. He continued to follow the girl’s hobbling, his steps measured and wary.

The attack came more swiftly than he had anticipated and was not quick enough to deflect the blow to his ankles. He roared with surprise and anger and pain—quick and fleeting but pain nonetheless—erupted from his ankles. His roar mingled with Sealink’s screeching as she found what she was looking for. She climbed on his back, using the yautja’s sinewy, hard snaky dreadlocks as a rope, hoisting herself up.

She clung on, feeling the muscles bunch up and release like liquid underneath the sandpapery, pebbly reptilian skin. It felt hot. She placed both hands on either side of the hunter’s head, intent on seriously straining his neck to the point of unconsciousness. If it was a real fight (ha ha) Sealink would have strained his neck where she just broke it.

But she could not. This Elder was old but wise and powerful. Despite her hatred for what they yautja did to her, she just could not bring herself in ruining this Predator’s life for this stupid tussle.

Sighing, the girl applied more pressure, forcing the Elder to his knees. She could feel his pulse, thundering, underneath the skin. The scent of aggression and musk was heavy in the air, but the tiny scent of fear tainted it. Sealink applied just as much pressure needed to warn the Elder that if she really wanted to hurt him, she would have. Then, Sealink merely leapt away, using the Predator as a stable place where she could spring away from. Up in the stands, Dauncha narrowed his eyes. The ooman had a clear chance to seriously wound the Elder, thus ending the fight. Why did she stop?

Sealink rolled hard, striking hard with her legs, rewarding her with a rumble of anger. She thrashed and kicked and spun, dancing her pattern of the fight, striking with a nimble body. Try as he might, as fast as he could, the Elder just could not seem to strike her. Like smoke. Like fighting pure smoke.

Well, might as well end it, thought Sealink as she saw the Elder stagger after a particularly hard blow. Then, she spied a jagged scar on the Predator’s hip, right above his metal loincloth and belt. What did that mean? It must have came from a fight, thought Sealink as she dodged a powerful punch, biting the outstretched arm hard enough to receive a trill of pain. Maybe she could give this Elder something to remember her by, considered the girl. Yes. She may allow herself to be defeat, but she would not allow the Elder to go away unscathed.

Using all the power she had, Sealink dodged the arms and massive clawed hands and kicked as hard as she could, her foot connecting with the scar. The Elder stumbled, surprise and pain flickering in his eyes as he put a hand on the spot where he was hit, his mandibles flared.

Sealink backed away, crouching. A hiss formed on her lips, her nose wrinkled at the thought of her punishment. She had little time to dwell on the thought as she braced herself for the kick that hit her square in the ribs. She felt the wind rush out of her as she landed heavily on her side. She spat some blood, her eyes slitted, refusing to reply in kind.

A hesitation? Sealink opened one eye up to the Elder. He seemed to be contemplating whether or not he would attack. But that lasted only a few seconds before his fist rammed her shoulder.

Corkscrews of light and pain and colour flashed through her eyes as she was thrown back, her eyes squinted shut, her other hand gripping the numb shoulder. Oh great. I can not feel it. Sealink bit her tongue, hard. She must had dislocated the shoulder. Sealink rolled painfully on her back. Well, I guess this is it. I am to die here, nothing more than an ooman slave. I really hope Damon teaches Zizar to be a powerful Warrior, thought Sealink sadly, bitter that she wouldn’t be there at her family’s side.

A shadow. It must be the yautja, curse all their flesh, thought Sealink sulkily, wanting nothing but sleep. Yes, eternal sleep. She closed her eyes, waiting for the killer blow.

Instead, she felt hot and meaty digits wrapping around her neck as she was hoisted in the air, dangling, at the mercy of her adversary. What? Was he going to kill her slowly after beating him up so bad? It must have been the last blow I took on him. Yeah, that’s it. Oops.

Sealink opened her eyes in morbid curiosity, only to find that she was just mere inches away from the Elder’s face. Yellow mixed with orange eyes locked on the silver-blue ones. For a long, long moment that even the universe seemed to wait, the two of them looked at each other, neither one of them breaking contact.

The fingers slowly tightened their grip. Sealink frowned, but hung there, determined not to react. Slowly and meticulously the grip tightened harder and harder. It was growing harder and harder for Sealink to breath. She found it difficult to keep the eye contact with the Elder. The Elder’s eyes were unflinching and unblinking.

Sealink finally began to struggle as her will to survive kicked in. There was NO WAY that she would die like this, slowly being throttled by a creature she could have killed. No possible way. She scrabbled at the hand holding her, trying to claw it open or even to loosen it with her undamaged side. But nothing seemed to break the deathly vice. She used her legs to kick viciously at the Elder’s chest, but it was like hitting solid rock. Nothing she could do could break the Predator’s grasp. Nothing.

Darkness. Vision swimming. Sealink felt her eyes roll up. She had to fight! This could not be happening! If she was not wounded, she may have lasted longer, but her dislocated arm and cracked ribs proved to much. Her struggling grew weaker. The last thing she saw before passing out was the two unblinking yellow-orange eyes.

Then nothing.

Chapter 10

Sealink slowly and painfully opened her eyes. Ahhrrrggg! Bright light, bright light! Painful! She swiftly snapped them shut against the glare of the white overhanging light. Then, after she regained her composure, she slowly opened an eye to a mere slit, then to a hooded look, then all the way. She was in Dauncha’s dwelling; she recognized the symbols along the door which marked his claim to the home. This was a room that she had never been before: probably a medical room of sorts for injury. There were med kits and other doctoring devices along the walls and the counters, just like in a room in a hospital.

Sealink groaned. Her muscles and body screamed at her with a vengeance, seeking solace in the dull, throbbing waves of pain. Her throat her where the Elder had gripped her. Her long cut on her stomach was long and deep; any deeper and it would have caused serious problems. Her ribs were cracked—maybe one or two at the most. Her arm was dislocated from the shoulder socket and was numb, a living piece of meat. Her whole body ached and was covered with bruises where the Elder hit her.

Why was she alive? Was she in the afterlife? Sealink tried to move, but her body rebelled the movement, causing a soft moan of pain floating on her lips. Sealink relaxed, concentrating on her breathing. What would happen to her now? She was defeated—intentionally, but defeated nonetheless. Would Dauncha consider her useless now?

In that in mind, Sealink remained inert, quiet and subdued.

She did not know how long she laid there. Hours? Minutes? Days? Sealink continued to think of what her fate was, and more she thought about it, she made a great self-discovery: she did not want to die. Her will and grip on life was too strong. She must continue living.

Footsteps. Sealink’s eyes shot open. They were coming. A part of her felt relieved; she hated waiting, the waiting that threw her into nervous tension. And yet, a part of her wanted her fate to remain undecided. She wanted to be free from them, and if she was somewhere else she wouldn’t have this problem.

Sealink sat up on the table, despite her body’s objection to the movement. She scooted close to the wall, eyes wary and stance tense.

A figure stepped into the white light. Dauncha. The yautja flicked a mandible at her, but said nothing.

Nothing? No words of congratulation? She just went up against the best fighter in the whole homeworld! And survived! And . . . nothing?

Sealink’s eyes tracked Dauncha’s movements to an obvious med kit. Curious, Sealink watched at the Leader pulled out several containers of blue gel and a needle-looking thing. The Predator utterly ignored the girl. Sealink bristled. Now that she got what she wanted, why then did she want to be noticed!

The reddish-cast yautja opened one container of the blue gel and squirted it on a slab. Then, he took the syringe and filled it up with a red liquid. Sealink instinctually bristled with apprehension. What was this? What was that stuff? Why was he coming toward her . . .

Shrinking back toward the wall, Sealink cowered at the unknown. Dauncha rattled impatiently in his throat.

Come here, ooman.

“What are you going to do?” asked Sealink, feeling bold by her fear.

The golden eyes narrowed slightly at the question, but said, Medicine for your wounds. Now come here.

Surprisingly, Sealink continued to cower. Mother had told her about experience conducted on Aliens, chemicals and liquids injected into innocent creatures and turning them into something else. And with that, the fear of the unknown was greater than her servitude to the yautja.

“I don’t want medicine. I will be fine.”

Dauncha stepped closer, dipping his fingers in the blue gel. He ignored her as he did it. Sealink leaned in slightly in curiosity. She was too slow to avoid the Predator’s arm pinning her to the wall. Before she knew it, the Predator had restrained to the wall, using his body as a barrier, holding her fast. Sealink bared her teeth. His meaty, reptilian arm pressed up against her throat. Try as she might, she could not break free.

“Hey! Let me go!”

No matter how much cursing, swearing or pleading Sealink could do, nothing could stop the Predator. She struggled weakly, her body already sore and battered up as it was to go against a determined adult Predator. All what she could do was watched helplessly as the blue gel on his other hand’s fingers touched her open wound.

The pain exploded. It was as if putting fire on the skin. Sealink gave the loudest skrreeeeeeeeee she could, unable to hold it in. Ahh! What as this stuff supposed to do, help or hinder her! Medicine? Ha! What a . . . hey.

The terrible throbbing subsided, leaving a cool, painless feeling afterward. The stabbing, aching pain of her claw wound eased into nothingness. Surprised and pleased, Sealink tried to look over the large, muscular arm down at her taunt belly. All what she could see was a strip of blue gel on her cut.

With that, Dauncha removed his arm and took the slab away, placing on the counter for later use. He washed his hands, leaving Sealink to gently probe at the stuff on her skin. Cool.

Her observations were cut short as out of the corner of her eye she noticed Dauncha was coming back again. She tensed. This time, in his other hand he held the red-liquid filled needle. Needles. Sealink’s logic and mind snapped. Panic took over.

She, despite her broken ribs and dislocated arm, leapt off the table with Dauncha in hot pursuit. She had to get away. What was in that needle she had no idea, and that made her afraid. She needed to get away.

But the hunter was determined and she was injured. Before she could reach the door, Dauncha flipped her over. Snarling with pain, Sealink tried to roll away but found herself in a head lock in the Predator’s arms. Before she could react, she felt the sting of the needle plunging in her uninjured arm. With some sort of inner strength, Sealink twisted away.

She gave her Alien hiss of fury. She tried to leap for the open door but found herself uncoordinated enough. She stumbled instead, wobbling slightly. Her own weakness amazed her. Why could not she move? And why was the room spinning? Struggle as she might, she could not walk. She stumbled, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth. As valiantly as she tried, she could not remain upright. She crashed into the floor, her fingers weakly trying to grip any foothold or purchase that might lend a hand in hoisting herself up. But she was too weak.

Before she fell into a drugged sleep, she could hear the clicking purr of a creature somewhere far off.

Sealink slowly blinked into existence. What just happened . . .? Her head throbbed something terrible, but it was subsiding. Must be the side effect of the red liquid, thought Sealink as she gingerly tried to get up. She bared her teeth against the twinge of pain and winced. She was back in her slave chambers. She tentatively rubbed her shoulder with a hand, making small circles—what a minute!

Sealink looked down at her shoulder.

It was set again! Sealink stared down at it in wonder. How . . .? It must have been Dauncha, thought Sealink in surprise. Now, why would he of all creatures want to heal me? For me to regain my strength so that I will be hunted?

Then let it come, thought Sealink tiredly. I am too tired of this life already.

Sealink slowly eased back on her mattress, eyes staring at the plain black ceiling. Her ribs were obviously feeling much better and her long cut on her belly was now perfectly healed, thanks to the painful blue gel. Now what?

Sealink sat in contemplating silence until she heard the light footsteps cease by her glass door. I seem to have a visitor, thought Sealink to herself as she carefully went off her bed to pad to the glass door, looking straight into the yellow eyes of the child yautja.

“So, what brings me the pleasure of your company, little hunter?”

Did you really fight the Elder? asked the baby Predator, his stubby mandibles clacking together.

“Yes.”

The little hunter paused, eyeing the girl up and down. He was silent for a long moment until he turned on his heel to walk away.

“Wait!” called Sealink, pressing against the glass wall. “Wait! Come back.”

Why should I, ooman? rattled the yautja through narrowed eyes as he slowly tottered back. He flexed his arms over his chest, mimicking a movement Ra’ka often made.

“Just tell me,” said Sealink breathlessly, “why am I here? I am alive—why? I let the Elder win. I should be dead.”

The baby Predator walked up to the glass, head to head with the crouching girl.

My sire said that the Elder doesn’t kill defenseless oomans.

Sealink stiffened, narrowing her eyes. She did not like what she heard.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

The upper stubby mandibles went up and down childlike solemnity. You were defenseless. It would have been dishonorable.

Sealink’s eyes bulged as the meaning of the Predator’s words hit her like a ringing slap.

“What!” Sealink pressed even harder against the glass. “Are you telling me that the Elder spared me . . . not because I fought well . . . but just because I was a defenseless ooman!”

The little hunter continued to stare at her, his silence answer enough.

Sealink was filled with fury. With a snarl, she paced away from the glass wall in a storm. What was all that! She had fought well and could have easily broken his neck. But she did not. She spared him. Could not he see that! And yet she herself gave herself up to him, he spared her for all the wrong reasons. Defenseless! That’s why! Not because of her prowess and fighting ability! The nerve! The humiliation!

Plopping herself in a corner, Sealink sat with her back to the glass wall and sulked, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them. This is stupid. Had she fought and lost to an Alien, it would have at least acknowledged her skill. But not the Elder. Instead, he probably left her on the sands of the training arena so that Dauncha could pick her up and heal her. What was going to happen to her now? She obviously have shame to the reddish Predator for deliberately losing.

Sulking, fell into an uneasy sleep.

Sealink woke up to the impatient tap of a stick on her back. Sealink blinked her eyes owlishly before turning to face her summoner. It was the Trainer, and he did not look to be in a forgiving mood.

Get up, he growled, clicking his long mandibles.

Sealink did as she was told, and was roughly touched and prodded to make sure all of her wounds and bruises from the yesterday fight had been healed. Grunting his satisfaction, he turned around and began to leave the slave room, pausing just enough to click, Come.

Sealink rolled her eyes behind his back before following, keeping her head bowed in her submissive posture. She trailed the massive Predator until she was outside. But Ra’ka did not stop. He was going straight to the novices’ sparring arena.

Ah . . . so she still had a purpose, thought Sealink. Somehow, the thought was comforting to her. At least she still had enough worth to be useful.

She entered with Ra’ka, hidden by his shadow. With a trilling rattle, he entered the arena and made straight for Dauncha, who was bellowing at the novices. Sealink faltered, suddenly unsure of where to go. Finally, she crawled up to Dauncha’s leg, hoping she was doing the right thing.

But no, she did not. She knew better than to dodge the swiping blow that caught her alongside the head. She rolled away, her head ringing. Dauncha snarled her away. Cheeks red with embarrassment, she crouched by Ra’ka’s legs, hating with her soul the sounds of the scornful laughter of the watching novices. How she could beat them all. Teach them respect, those hotheaded foul meats. Sealink growled softly, her head hurting.

Snorting at the interruption, Dauncha continued his speech to the novices, his posture one like a drill sergeant. Sealink did not pay any attention, dreamily wondering how Zizar was keeping up his lessons. It was only when she received a clout to her head by the impatient Ra’ka did Sealink pad to Dauncha’s leg, ready to help or leave. Above her, Dauncha continued his speech.

What was it about? Something or rather about a Great Hunt, mused Sealink as she played with the grainy sands by her feet. The hot scent of musk and aggression was something Sealink was coming to find very common here as she wrinkled her nose. Sealink, despite her resolve to pay attention, found herself drifting away again on memory.

Then it happened.

Sealink’s head shot up, her whole body tensing. Above her, Dauncha ignored the change, continuing his talk. Sealink lifted her head even higher, as if a hind scenting for fire. That smell, that smell . . . she recognized that smell . . . . It was something different and apart from the hot and oily scent of aggression. Something that smelt cold and tingled with spice. Roses and death.

She knew that scent.

It was the scent of an Alien.

But no ordinary Alien.

There was only one the smelt of roses.

Damon.

He was here.

Chapter 11

Sealink went instantly on alert, her ears and nose and eyes uniting in the search for her Alien companion. The sounds of the Predators faded into a gently buzz that softened in the background. Unimportant.

Where was he? thought Sealink, straining her senses. Curse her human body and all its limitations! If she was without those weaknesses, she would have pinpointed his location by now! Instead, she closed her eyes and concentrated, using all her being to find him out.

The sleekness. The deadly jaws, the lashing tail. Her Damon.

Suddenly, it hit her. The training arena was consisted of three arenas all put together. Damon was in one of them.

Sealink was struck with turmoil. Should she race to find him? Even though she was physically fit, there was no hope for her to run away from the Predators, though surprise was on her side. Should she risk being beaten and caught before she could find her Alien? Inwardly, Sealink cringed at being captured and the thought of a public beating pained her. She hated and despised them, but for Damon . . . anything. She did not care if she was to be caught. Hell, she could be wrong. Maybe it was her mind that was fabricating this scent of Damon. Was this a trick? Maybe it was Dauncha testing whether or not she was still tied to the Aliens.

If that was the case, then Dauncha would find out that she still was. Sealink narrowed her eyes and tensed her muscles. She closed her eyes and sent a prayer to Mother, wherever She was. Her bowls twisted and knotted with tension. Butterflies erupted in her stomach, but it felt strangely good, as if she was doing something right for once. She needed this. Even though it all may just be a hoax, it still proved that she still cared.

Without warning, Sealink sprung away from Dauncha’s side and raced away to the entrance that led to the another arena. She could hear the startled clicks and rattles of the novices and somewhere off in the distance of her mind she could sense the anger and wrath of the Leader. She ran fast, her feet flying over the sands, her arms tightly going up and down in the motion of her body. She had to go faster. Already she could sense the young bloods racing toward her, hunting her down like a pack of dogs chasing a stag.

Sealink entered the other arena, the yautja hot on her heels. Her heart leapt to her throat, thumping fast. She needed to find her love before they caught her. She smelled the air and was struck by the potency of Damon’s scent. A smile of hope etched her features. She was right. It was right for her to chase after Damon.

Hurry, Sealink! You’ve got to move it you want to find hi—

Sealink felt the whole world stop. The sounds of the trilling Predators behind her stilled. Even the wind seemed to pause. There, in the middle of the arena, was Damon, his slick black exoskeleton riddled with acidic holes that dripped acidic blood down to the sands. His elongated skull was thrown back as he reared and screeched his hurt and anger, scything the air with his tail. The ten surrounding young bloods circled him, one or more spears in their hands wet with his blood.

The very sight of that brought the vision of red in Sealink’s eyes. They are using him as a training thing, she thought in fury and indignation. Damon, the best fighter of Mother’s small Hive! These . . . these . . . these foul meats were using him like a boxer uses a bunching bag. How dare they! And Damon was wounded, too.

Without thinking, Sealink rushed to them, an Alien war cry bugling from her lips. The dreadlocks slapped the shoulders of some of the Predators as they turned their head, expecting another black Warrior but instead seeing a girl racing toward them, her lips drawn back from fangs.

“Damon! Strike now!” skreeeeeeeeeeed Sealink, launching herself at the first Predator. Caught flat footed and surprised by the intensity of the attack, the Predator stumbled, a warble of confusion in his throat. Without bothering to see if Damon was listening to her slammed her jaws in the Predator’s throat, tugging viciously like a wild animal.

As quick as could be, Sealink used the Predator’s own body to launch herself up in the air to land on another yautja’s shoulders, ripping and clawing at his deep set eyes. The hunter roared and dropped to one knee, gripping Sealink’s shoulders and making an overhead throw. Sealink used the momentum to leap away, barreling in the next one. This distraction allowed Damon to lash with his tail at the Predator and throw him to the ground, his lips writhing up and down.

“Damon! You’re alive!”

Sealink! hissed Damon joyously, ducking a spear thrust from another young blood to rake the novice’s own right thigh. The Predator yowled and trilled his hurt, only to be jerked backward as Sealink climbed onto his back, gripping his dreadlocks like climbing ropes. Sealink cracked his neck before he even knew what was going on, however only knocking him unconscious instead of dead.

“I thought I would never see you again!” warbled Sealink, fighting with pure joy and ecstasy and love and excitement. She fought was the burning love and relief washed over her like hot milk.

And so did I, Damon skreeeed, dancing about, his black limbs flailing. When you were taken . . . I feared the worse.

Sealink head butted another yautja. “No way was I going to break me—how’d you get here?”

I was captured myself. I have been used for a training creature for young foul meats.

“So have I.”

The both of them fought shoulder to shoulder, leaping and whirling and each protecting each other’s flanks—just like in practice back on the planet. Ha! Sealink knew it—practicing all those hours certainly paid off.

Sealink snarled again, her voice harsh and rough fibred compared to the slick and smooth hissing of the Alien. She felt as if she was bursting with joy at being at her mate’s side. Now she could die happily. Now most definably she would be killed for openly disobeying Dauncha. Ha. Let him. She was now free.

There were three of the ten young bloods that were able to back away; five of them were unconscious and two of them groaning on the ground. Damon skreeeeeeed his challenge, whipping his tail back and forth, his elongated skull thrown back. Sealink thumped a fierce tempo in the sand with her foot, giving her own tattoo of a challenge.

The novices were proud, but not stupid; they knew fierce fighters when they saw them. The yautja backed off, growling and flicking their mandibles in confusion and wariness. They had just been practicing with the hard meat when suddenly this soft meat appeared and began to attack them. The ferocity and swiftness of the attack utterly left them off guard and flat-footed. The most amazing part of it all was that the girl ooman actually fought alongside the praetorian, defending the black demon and was defended in turn. Now the two of them hissed and skreeeed softly together, obviously communicating.

Sealink did not take her eyes off the three yautja remaining. They seemed to be wary to attack. In that lull sounds suddenly reappeared, and so did details of the surroundings. The Predators who were ‘hunting’ her were in the stone stands of the arena, now watching and jeering at the yautja on the arena sands. Dauncha was there, along with Ra’ka. They were impassive, their emotions hidden as they watched the scene stony-faced, their mandibles still.

Sealink rubbed her head on the cool black carapace of the Xenomorph, crooning softly. “It has been too long, Damon.”

Yes it has, Sealink.

“To the end, then?” she whispered, eyeing all the Predators in the stands. Damon above her shook his head ever so slowly. Even a Warrior drone and a queen’s daughter could not defeat all these yautja. It would be a suicide mission.

Is it the end already, Sealink? asked Damon, gently nuzzling her neck.

Despite her wishing and praying that it would all one day end, she did not want it to end yet. Not yet. No. Her will was too strong, her grip on life too tight.

“No. It is not the end yet,” she murmured, still eyeing the yautja.

A plan, then?

Sealink gave a sigh as she noticed Dauncha and slightly behind him, Ra’ka, walk slowly and in a measured step toward them. Next to her, Damon tensed and bared his silver and even teeth.

Are these your captors? Let me rip their faces off, he growled, his hind legs quivering, anticipating a leap at their throats.

“No, Damon—not yet. We must wait for the perfect moment to attack, no longer, no less. We wait. I promise I will try to see you again.”

What! Must we be parted so soon?

Sealink wilted at the sound of the pain in Damon’s voice, but her voice held no tremor as she sighed, “We are Xenomorph. We are patient. We will wait.”

Quivering, whining at the almost physical pain at departing so soon, Damon bowed his deadly black sleek head in consent to Sealink’s wishes. Then lead us in escape, Sealink, said Damon solemnly. As the Queen Herself.

That salute again. How she loved it.

Just she was about to reply Dauncha growled, Come! and tapped the ground by him with his foot, a claw pointing to the ground.

He leads you like a youngling, snarled Damon indignantly. And you can do nothing?

“Nothing. But that will one day change,” said Sealink, heaving a sigh as she slowly made her way to Dauncha’s side, leaving Damon to lash his tail in rage at his own helplessness.

She expected and fully understood that she was going to get a beating for running away and disrupting Dauncha’s lesson. And on top of that, she openly attacked the young bloods fighting Damon. For these sums she expected no less than the harshest of thrashings. She quivered her hatred and fear, crouching lower and lower as she made her way to the stern Predator’s side. Soon, she was on her belly, cowering and submitting and hating herself for it.

She gritted her teeth, steeling herself and closed her eyes as she felt a shadow cross her vision. Was this the first blow? Sealink opened one eye in morbid curiosity when no crushing blow pushed her into the sand. Instead, she heard a rumbling purring sound and felt a hot if not light hand stroking her head in something like a caress. For a second, Sealink was utterly confused but rather found that the caresses were actually . . . comforting—like something like what Mother did whenever Sealink had bad nightmares.

Involuntarily, Sealink gave an Alien croon and crouched easier by Dauncha’s legs. Part of her revolted and was utterly repulsed by this sudden behavior—and another part of her craved attention that she had been solely banished from. All what she got was scornful faces or ignored all together. She missed interaction—even the strange conversations with the young yautja pup was better than the silence. Maybe the strain of being alone for the first time since she was a little girl. Yeah. Maybe that was it. Whatever it was, it was allowing Dauncha to ‘pet’ the girl. Go figure.

Meanwhile, Ra’ka had taken over as Second in Command as he barked orders to put the hard meat back in its cage. Damon took Sealink’s words to heart as he allowed himself to be herded back to his glass cage below the arena’s floor. Sealink felt her heart wrench, but was somewhat pacified on an unconscious level by the Predator’s purring and patting. Was this all a trick? Well, if it was a trick, it was certainly working.

When Damon was finally pushed away, Dauncha gave her one last stroke on her head before turning back to the other Predators.

What you have just witnessed was a kainde amedha and pyode amedha fight together as one. Notice how they used their strengths to make up for their weaknesses.

When Ra’ka finished, he and Dauncha clicked in an older, stranger tongue that Sealink could not understand. That bothered her little. Damon was alive, but here? Now her escape would be more difficult. She would have to save him too rather than just herself. Still, it was good to have someone to share her ‘adventure’ with.

It seemed that the two of them had finished their little talk. Sealink sunk lower to the ground. Was there punishment involved? Although, Dauncha seemed more pleased than angry at her sudden act of flight. What did that mean? Despite her defeat with the Elder (which she had in fact let him win), she still caught the drift that she may be useful. Did that make her feel better? Maybe it did. Maybe it did not. Sealink herself did not even know yet.

After the gruff conclusion talk with the novices, Ra’ka dismissed them with a fist to his chest. The young bloods mimicked the gesture, rapping their chests in deference and respect to the Trainer and the Leader’s experience and skill. Then they filed out, clicking and rattling to each other as they left the Trainer, the Leader, and the girl in the arena.

Sealink sighed as the two giant Predators switch glances. What was in store for her now?

Two months later…..

Sealink blinked. What did they want her to do? The instructions were so far-fetched that it took her a few seconds to understand the command. She glanced up at the Trainer, his dreadlocks framing his neck and shoulders. His two toned eyes traveled around the arena before resting on the girl crouching by his feet.

You understand, ooman?

“Er . . . one more time, please.”

Ra’ka visibly rolled his eyes in the deep set eye sockets, growling deeply to himself in the older tongue. Sealink doubted that he was saying happy birthday.

I want you race all away around the three arenas. Collect the red scraps of material on each of the three posts and end up here. Understand?

“Yes.”

Good, the Trainer rumbled. Don’t even think about escape because there will be others watching. Now run.

“What . . .?”

I said RUN! Ra’ka roared on the last word, bringing his face right up close to Sealink’s, his lower mandibles stretch to the fullest away from his face.

Without looking back, Sealink fled, her arms pumping and her feet flying. Before she knew it, she left the massive Predator and made it to the first red scrap of fabric. Without pausing Sealink snatched it, tearing it off its post. It ripped away easily, obviously lightly tied. Why would he want her to do this? Sealink focused on her breathing. That was her last conscious thought as she sprinted as fast as she could, hoping her speed was sufficient for whatever needs Ra’ka wanted fulfilled. She was, after all, a slave. The word stung like an Alien’s lash of its tail. If it was possible, Sealink ran faster.

She wanted to prove to them that she was not weak, nor a mere ‘ooman’. She was Sealink. She was the Queen’s daughter. She would prove them all wrong. She would.

The second red scrap was ripped off its post. Sealink felt a stitch in her side growing as she forced herself at the fast and punishing pace. Hurry, hurry, hurry! Hurry for what? Oh well. Might as well hurry. The stitch in her side grew. Her legs felt like iron, but she continued to run. Ah! The third one, finally. Sealink thought her heart would burst as she raced to where the tall and towering form of the Predator Trainer waited, his mandibles flicking.

She skidded to a stop, forcing her breaths to come silently in sheer will. She threw the three scraps of red material by the steel sandaled feet, panting heavily. With a click, the Predator bent down to retrieve them, his long fleshy dreadlocks dragging along the ground.

After several deep and long breaths, Sealink managed to control her breathing long enough to ask hesitantly, “May I ask . . . a question, Trainer?”

Ra’ka eyed her for a long moment before flicking an upper mandible in an offhand gesture. Yes.

Sealink wiped the sweat off her upper lip. “Why was I asked to perform such a task, Trainer?”

Ra’ka rattled, To see if you’d be worthy enough for the training hunts.

Training hunts . . . .

The giant must have noticed her confused look and gave a clacking snort. The training hunts allow the young pups to test their stalking and chasing skills on . . . live prey.

“That would be me,” murmured Sealink softly to herself, earning herself a sharp look from the Predator.

Yes, that would mean you, he rumbled in an exasperated way, obviously in a bad-tempered mood. And this test proved it. You will be worth enough to suffice.

Sealink was silent for a long moment, weighing her chances of a rebuke. Finally, it was Ra’ka who noticed the nervous weight-shifting of the girl, torn with indecision and barked, You have a question, ooman?

A blonde strand of her hair fell in front of her eyes as Sealink looked up to the Predator. “I want . . . I want to ask a favour if I comply.” Her demand sounded foolish and childish to her ears—also, it was a question asked in vain; she was slave. She had no power to ask for favours.

Ra’ka also knew that and rumbled in an amused manner, A favor, ooman? Have you forgotten your place . . . slave?

Sealink bit down a frustrated retort, knowing that if she displayed any disrespectful emotion she was positive that she’d receive a clout and a deaf ear. Instead, she said quickly and adding a wheedling note to her voice, “It’s a very simple favor, really. And you don’t have to accept it.”

Damn right I don’t have to accept it, tittered Ra’ka, a strange sound coming from such a massive Predator. But somehow the fact that Sealink had added that he did not have to agree to her ‘demands’ somewhat pacified him. Showed him that he was dominate.

Well? Hurry up.

He’s actually going to hear her for her favor! A glimmer of hope sparkled in her chest.

“After a training hunt if I do good and without any problems . . . could I spend some time with Damon?”

Ra’ka blinked down at her, one of his upper mandibles lifting away from with small humanlike mouth—an equivalent gesture to a lifted eyebrow. It was only then did Sealink catch her mistake—she said her mate’s name, a sound that was completely said in Alien. The Trainer probably just heard a series of hisses and soft skreeees. Complete Alien gibberish to him.

Sealink felt heat rising to her cheeks as she tried to cover her mistake. “I mean, spend time with the Alien?”

Ra’ka eyed her suspiciously, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. You mean the hard meat?

Sealink clenched one hand behind her back for a second before letting it relax. Despite all her time with the yautja, she still hated the slang term for her beloved kin and kith.

“Yes, the hard meat.”

Ra’ka eyed her for a long minute, his mandibles moving in his thought. Sealink tried not to, but it was impossible to keep the hope shining in her eyes. Damon, oh Damon . . .

Finally, Ra’ka said slowly, I will have to take this up with my Leader. Other than that, I can do more.

Sealink smiled for the rest of the day as she did her chores.

Chapter 12

Sealink waited by Ra’ka, finding it hard to eat her meat with all her apprehension keeping her tense and jittery. She tried to hide it behind a cool mask of indifference, trying to stay calm by Ra’ka’s leg. This hunt . . . it had only been a day since she had heard of it and of her part that she would have to play in it. Oh Mother what have I gotten into? thought Sealink as she licked the last traces of the meat’s juices off her lips. The food tasted like ash in her mouth, her nervousness banishing all taste.

She and the massive Predator waited on the edge of the heavily vegetated jungle. Most of the planet that hadn’t been civilized by the yautja was jungle; the heat of the planet could easily afford such tropical forests. The two of them waited on the grassy clearing.

Dauncha appeared about half an hour later, with him a medium-sized group of young bloods. Sealink noted that they all wore training masks that would eventually lead to the full blooded hunting masks they would all receive when they were on their First Hunt. They wore light amour, nothing compared to the full hunting gear. Some carried net guns while others carried spears. Most were empty handed though all of them carried a black cable roped and hanging on their left hips.

They shifted and mingled growls lightly, the slightest scent of oily musk of aggression masked by the excitement of a hunt. A training hunt, but a hunt nonetheless. Hunting her. Sealink gave a shiver at the idea, but hid it. She did not want these foul meats to notice her discomfort in the idea.

Dauncha marched in front of the group in his domineering way, challenging all who was hotheaded enough to defy his leadership.

Right, you young bloods! Listen up. This is your first training hunt on a live ooman. Test abilities and use your skills to bring her back. But remember! Dauncha added, his mandibles flaring aggressively, This is my ooman slave! As in sparring, I want her relatively undamaged. Does any of you quarrelsome enough to disobey my command?

As a collective answer, the young yautja struck their armored chests, the gesture of respect. Obviously none of them wanted to challenge their Leader’s authority.

With that said, Dauncha looked over his shoulder and growled in a warning voice, And that goes for you too, slave. No to-the-death fights. You get captured, you will not resist. If everything goes well . . . Dauncha’s voice trailed off. Sealink felt a slap of anticipation. She might go see Damon!

She was so filled with thoughts of what she was going to say to him if she could go see him that she completely did not notice that Dauncha picked one of the twelve young bloods for the training hunt. The others left, heading off for the sparring pits. The one left flexed his black and yellowish arms eagerly, his face hidden by the mask. Sealink gulped, but rolled her own shoulders. She wouldn’t be intimidated.

She felt a nudge with the steel sandaled foot. She looked at the foot and then at the foot’s master, staring straight in Ra’ka’s eyes. Ra’ka leaned closer, his hard, fleshy dreadlocks hitting Sealink in the face as they fell over his broad shoulders. He rattled just one word.

Run.

Sealink took one look at that face, and ran, the young blood hot on her feels.

The jungle was different from the temperate forest back on her homeworld. It was warm and hot and muggy. Sweat covered her body as Sealink slinked through the jungle, keeping close to the ground, her strip of deerskin around her head soaked. She had been running and sneaking around for about several hours, noticing the placement of the sun whenever she could see it through the thick canopy. She thanked Mother every second of the day, utterly thankful of her stealth lessons. She hardly rustled a fern or frond, her entire body a ghost over the land, thanks for her hours and hours of practicing.

She back tracked, swept her tracks, swam in a small puddle and continued on her original trail that took her to the puddle, overstepping her traces. On several occasions she noticed the Predator, tense with the moment of the hunt, crouching over several imprints. She watched him, silent, hardly daring to breath. The Predator always stood up, looked around carefully, and moved farther in the underbrush. He was silent himself, hardly stirring a leaf or twig.

In those times, Sealink became the shadow of the ghost that she normally was, circling around, cautious in case of any . . . unexpected encounters. But it never happened. She always let out a silent breath of relief and continued her slinking, her body low to the ground, her shoulders rolling in their sockets like a hunting cat’s. The smell of the loamy and decomposing ground assaulted her senses. It made her eyes water and her nose tingled. It was drier than usual, but still humid and muggy.

Sealink crept about, keeping out of sight. The hours grew. Now she had been on the ‘hunt’ for about six hours. Roughly a little after midday. Probably around one. Sealink did not mind. In fact, she rather enjoyed the silence of the jungle—not that the jungle was silent, of course. No, it was just . . . the solitude with only herself present. All alone. No scornful of contemptuous looks and glances directed to her. Alone. Just by herself.

Sealink sighed, settling herself under a massive tree, its roots dug up and forming giant arches. She rested under one, feeling hot and tired. With only an occasional puddle to quench her thirst and nothing to help with her hunger, she was almost, almost, looking forward to get back to her ‘room’. She was so used to a forest with coniferous and deciduous trees that she was completely lost when it came to the jungle. She had no idea what was edible or toxic. She took an experimental nibble at a leaf once on the hunt and spat it out as the bitter taste stung her tongue. It took much rinsing with water to wash the taste out, making her hesitant to try again.

Sealink felt tired and the thick blanket of moss felt so cool and good on her back. She wanted to sleep. After an entire day of being the ‘prey’ the Predator did not seem so threatening, as if the taste of fear and nervousness was washed away from her mouth like the bitter leaf. After so few sightings of the hunter, it almost seemed to be a dream . . .

Crunch.

Sealink flew awake, snapping out of the hazy dreamlike state she was in faster than if she was doused in freezing cold water. There in front of her was the Predator, arm fashioned with the net gun held out in front of him. Without even thinking, she launched herself to the right, toward the safety of the dense underbrush. But no such luck.

Sealink felt her arms forced together as the net wrapped around her, its steel like mesh trapping her. The girl tried to thrash away, but she was tightly entangled. If it was a real hunt, the net would have been constricting and collapsing within itself, thus slowly tearing apart the prey. But since it was not, it merely held Sealink captive. Sealink struggled a little more, testing her bonds. They were like no other type of human material, unbreakable and extremely hard. There was no way out.

With a sigh of relief mixed with apprehension, Sealink ceased struggling and grew quiet. What was going to happen to her now? Was he going to mark her? Hurt her? Sealink inwardly shivered.

A rough purring sound issued from above her. Sealink tried to roll within her net to see the maker of the noise. It was the Predator. He bend down and gave again another clicking purr, trilling deeply within his throat with pride and triumph. He was evidently pleased with his accomplishment, noted Sealink as he hoisted her up on a shoulder causally, as if she weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes. He did not even bother untangling the girl out of the net as he began to walk back to the place of origin of the hunt.

Sealink allowed herself to be carried, limp and quiet. She did not even mind the net. She was so tired. The Predator underneath her was a good height, maybe 7’7. The ground was so far away . . . . The Predator was hot beneath her, his natural temperature much, much warmer than hers. The rather comfortable heat and the mugginess and her weariness combined made her very sleepy and Sealink blinked off into a deep sleep. Whether the Predator carrying her recognized this, he made no sign, but continued his way.

Wha . . .? Sealink blinked awake. She was in the clearing again, right on the edge of the jungle. She looked around and noticed she was not in the net anymore. There were no others around. Where were they? Were they hiding somewhere, making sure I did not run anywhere?

Once again, Sealink was seized with the temptation to run far, far away where none would find her and she would slowly make her way back to hijack a ship to fly back home to her beloved Mother and companions.

But she shook it off very quickly. Not without Damon. She had to go with Damon. Her mate.

And so, instead, she waited patiently, daydreaming of what she was going to say to her Alien counterpart. If she would be allowed. But something in Dauncha’s voice told her to look forward for the meeting.

As if sensing the subtle decision, the cloaked Predator pressed a button on his gauntlet and became visible again in sparks of blue electricity. Sealink tensed, but kneeled, assuming the slave position unwillingly.

“Trainer.”

Ra’ka stalked up to her, his towering frame overpowering the mere girl’s. He was silent for a long moment, so quiet that Sealink feared that he was displeased with something she had done. She hesitantly raised her head to look at the yautja’s face. When she did, she felt as if hope was restored.

Come with me.

What? No recognition that she had ‘survived’ the hunt for about six hours? Although Sealink tried to dismiss the feeling, she could not but help feeling annoyed and frustrated. Could not they see how well she did? At least some form of recognition would be much appreciated . . . even if it came from her captors.

But mustn’t bite the hand that fed her. She couldn’t help but add the excited bounce in her step as she followed Ra’ka. To where? Sealink did not have a clue until the triple training arenas appeared over a bend. She had to jog to keep up with Ra’ka’s stride, but she did not care. As long as she got to meet Damon, she did not care if she had to run all the way there.

She was so happy and anxious that they were in front of one of the arenas. Dauncha was there, waiting with his arms crossed over his broad and muscular chest. Ra’ka tapped his fist against his chest in respect, tilting his head slightly.

I brought the ooman.

Good, clicked Dauncha, flicking his mandibles away from his face. Now prepare the slave.

Ra’ka bowed his head slightly again as Dauncha curtly turned away and entered a small entrance way that entered deep under the training pit. Ra’ka then growled as he assumed a more dominate posture.

Despite my feelings, Dauncha has agreed to allow you a brief visit with the kainde amedha. You are under no circumstance think that just because we are allowing you this favor means that you have power. Forget it. There is no such thing as a slave—an ooman slave at that—to have any sort of power. Got that?

I have more power than you know, yautja.

“Yes, master.”

Ra’ka eyed her for a long second, almost as if sensing Sealink’s secret rebellious thoughts. Then he grunted briskly, turning around and followed the path Dauncha took, leading Sealink into the depths of the arena.

It was dimly lit by blue spheres that hung on the wall, casting blue shadows everywhere. It was cooler down here, with the basement sort of musty smell. Cobwebs and dirt were settled comfortably in corners, obviously having no intention of moving. Sealink had to sidestep cracks in the metal flooring. Ra’ka neither paused nor stopped, ducking ever so often to avoid a particularly low beam, which seemed odd because if yautja built these arenas and underground tunnels beneath them, then they should have known about the heights of the travelers passing through. Sealink narrowed one eye in thought. Maybe this arena was very old. Maybe when it was built yautja were much shorter . . . if that was possible.

Wait a minute. If it was really old, then there was a very good chance of hidden passage ways. Abandoned. Lost. Unknown to the yautja. Sealink felt herself warming to the idea. What if there was a secret passage way that led out of the arena? If there was, then maybe she and Damon could escape.

But then again, the niggling memory of her pact with Dauncha came forth and reared its ugly head. Sealink stifled a hiss of frustration. Should the pact with Dauncha matter anymore? True Zizar was spared and now learning under the military Kaylon. But now the promise of her obedience seemed to grow old and frayed as everyday went by. A little bit of the feeling of relief when Zizar was spared disappeared by everyday. Slowly, but surely. Now it did not feel as relevant as it was in the beginning.

Sealink felt herself torn in two as she followed the towering Predator. Was her honour important enough for her to give up her life with Damon and the others? Honour. One word. Did it truly hold her fast to her word? Honour. It was a word used in many, many tongues. Honour. Did it have power over her? Should she break her pact? It would be easy: a slip with the black dragon into the night, away from it all. After all, it was Dauncha said that she did not have any honour. But she had disagreed.

Was he right? Did she have any honour?

She was not yautja: her life did not revolve around honour. Was it only her will to impress the yautja that chained her here? Since when did it matter to her what these foul meats care?

If she had honour, then why were all these thoughts of the conspirator leak in? Did that mean she did not have any thoughts?

I am so confused. I really don’t know what I want. I want to run free with Damon and get off this infernal planet. I want to return home. But then again . . . I made a promise to Dauncha. If I break it now, I will prove to him and myself that I have no honour.

Sealink bared her teeth silently behind Ra’ka’s back. She would need to talk to Damon about this difficult decision. He would know what to do. He would.

Sealink was so deep in thought that she crashed right into Ra’ka. She crouched apologetically when Ra’ka rumbled disapprovingly. With a final snort, the Trainer stepped aside to let Sealink gave a clear view of the glass cage. It was just like her slave room: three walls were mud but extremely strong while the wall facing the front was made up of glass. And behind the glass was . . .

“Damon!” shrieked Sealink, instantly quivering with anticipation and eagerness. She strained forward, only with the utmost willpower did she restrain herself. Dauncha was waiting in front of the door, silent as he watched. He did not open the door, nor did he move. Sealink secretly grimaced as she controlled herself, assuming the respectful posture.

Dauncha was silent for a long moment after that. Sealink felt the suspense build. Was he going to open the door? Or would he thrust his face into hers and laugh, then dragging her back up the way she came?

Sealink’s fears disappeared the second Dauncha pressed something on his gauntlet and the glass door opened slightly, just enough for Sealink to squeeze through. Like a cat being released into the wild, Sealink sprang forward and wedged herself through.

She was met with a tumble of black limbs. Sealink screeched with happiness, romping with her black dragon. She twisted and avoided the flailing limbs, her throat almost bursting with all her thrumming. Damon gave the interrupted hisses of laughter, finally catching her and nuzzling her shoulder. Sealink wiggled out of the Alien’s embrace and gamboled around, shying away and leaping forward. She cried out in surprise and joy as Damon caught her with welcoming arms, his cold, hard fingers stroking the tears that fell from her eyes.

When at last the frenzy at meeting subsided, Damon curled around Sealink like a dog, with Sealink resting on his ribbed side. Sealink stroked the elongated skull lovingly, tracing every scar and mark on the black exoskeleton.

It has been too long, Sealink. I thought you were dead.

“So you have told me before, Damon.”

I’m still getting over the fact that you are used for a mere slave. Damon’s voice grew harsh and his hissing colder at the end.

Sealink soothed him by resting her head on his shoulder, slowly fondling the terrible knife-like tail ending. She did not talk. Damon said in a contrite voice, I’m sorry. I over reacted. I did not mean to lose control.

Sealink sighed. “I understand. It’s okay, Damon. You should have seen me in the beginning! I would have to be beat into position of respect.”

Damon’s lips lifted away from his even, silver teeth, his long fangs dripping. But he controlled himself as he said with a forced calm, They will all pay. All of them.

Sealink wrapped her arms around Damon’s thin neck and murmured, “Let’s talk about something else, can we? I had . . . a busy day today.”

Of course, dear Sealink.

For a long time, the two of them just rested in each other’s presence, finding solace from the anger, pain and sorrow of the past recent events. Despite the need to talk, the need to be in each other’s presence was too powerful to ignore. In the end, Sealink fell fully asleep, for once utterly at ease since the capture, safe within Damon’s protective arms. She was safe. Damon would protect her.

It was to the sound of Damon’s growling did Sealink awake, shaking her head and sleep-weary eyes. It had been so long since she had a decent sleep that Sealink felt so tired and yet refreshed at the same time.

“What is it, Damon?”

Those foul meats. They want you. I won’t let them.

Sealink blinked a few more times owlishly, staring at the impassive figure of the Trainer.

“Damon . . .”

No! They can not take you!

With a fluid leap, Damon rushed at the glass door, his teeth bared and knife like tail swinging aggressively. He leapt just short of the glass door, his long, cold fingers slashing the air in front of him. He furiously screeched, his four spikes bristling on his shoulders. He was a Warrior drone, and he was not about to let up on his mate.

For his credit, Ra’ka did not move an inch, his arms still crossed over his chest. It was only the tiniest of twitching from the lower mandibles did it belay his nervousness. But Damon hadn’t spent a lot of time of close time with the Predators to know this, and roared at the Predator, You arrogant creatures! You will all die!

“Damon!”

Sealink’s stern, commanding voice brought Damon’s rage to a crashing halt. Damon seemed to wilt as he slowly padded back in front of Sealink.

“You ought to be ashamed, Damon. We are Alien. We are patient. We will bide our time. What happened to the Alien I once knew?”

Damon tilted his head away shamefully. I am grievous for my actions, Sealink. You are right.

Sealink instantly softened her tone. “Shhhhh . . . you are tired, that’s all. I’m tired too. But we must keep the remaining dignity we still have.”

Yes, Sealink. Damon straightened his shoulders and his head righted back to the proper position, as if remembering his place. I am a Warrior.

“No,” crooned Sealink teasingly, “you are more than that. You are my mate, Damon. And we will survive.”

Damon shyly reached out with his secondary mouth and gently licked her cheek to the best of his abilities. Sealink replied in kind with a lick of her own, earning a hiss of happiness from her black dragon.

“I must go now, Damon. I will pray to Mother that I will see you again soon. Then, we can talk more.”

Yes, Sealink. I will look forward for that.

Sealink kissed the shiny black carapace of Damon’s skull before taking a deep breath, preparing herself. Damon sensed this and gently nudged her toward the waiting Predator. Damon did not say anything, but his very silence strengthened her as she crouched on the side of the glass door, bowing her head and waiting for Ra’ka to reach in and take her out. Damon did not move, staying in the far corner, silent and strong.

Took you long enough, muttered Ra’ka as he put a steel bowl filled with water down in front of Sealink. At the sudden sight of water the girl gulped it down, faster than ever. It was as if the sight of water had triggered her throat to suddenly dry up, forcing her to drink. She instantly complied to her body, whining with eagerness to appease all aches and pains, quaffing down the water. Ahhhhh.

Ra’ka snorted at the girl’s actions, but put down another container in front of her, this time filled with almost raw meat. Sealink dove into that too, licking her lips for the last drops for nutrients. Within seconds the food and water was gone, leaving Sealink looking up at the giant Predator expectantly.

The mandibles twitched.

Come with me.

Sealink followed the Predator, feeling relaxed and energized for the first time in weeks. There was an easiness in her lope—she did not relax her respectful posture, nor did she become in any way displeasing. The movements did not seem so strained, tensed, forced than they used to be. It was as if Sealink accepted her position. Acceptance.

But of course it was not. It was her clever disguise to get what she want. She was looking forward to meeting Damon again. Nothing mattered anymore, as if it was all one big dream. A crazy, if not painful, dream. With Damon as a ‘reward’ everything seemed so much better. As if she had a support to help her through a long and treacherous race.

But let the others think that she had finally accepted her role as an ooman slave. Ha. What a laugh. As long as it allowed her to see Damon, then she wouldn’t say otherwise.

She followed Ra’ka to the same place as yesterday, to the clearing right on the edge of the jungle. Since Dauncha nor any other young blood was there, Sealink curled in a patch of sunlight, sighing quietly. She knew Ra’ka wouldn’t admonish her for her relaxed pose. Ra’ka was not as bad as the others alone, as if he did not have to prove anything. Although Sealink was still tentative around him, wary for his moods and reactions, she discovered. He had a rough humor and although Ra’ka wouldn’t admit it even if he was put to torture, he grudgingly enjoyed the ‘conversations’ of the ooman girl.

Finally, after an hour of waiting Dauncha and another young blood appeared over the bend. Sealink immediately grew tense and her relaxed posture vanished. This one bigger than the other one. Maybe not as tall but definably more muscular. Sealink eyed him warily. This one smelled much more aggressive than the other. More muscular. I hope this one doesn’t take defeat too seriously, thought Sealink as she was nudged forward by Ra’ka’s foot.

The muscular novice growled menacingly behind his mask, his red-tinted lenses intimidating. Sealink calmly returned the gaze, trying to keep the nervousness and contempt out of her eyes.

About five seconds later, Dauncha clicked, May the hunt begin.

The novice took a step toward Sealink, roaring. Sealink took one look at the mask and fled into the relative safety of the jungle, the novice running after her.

Sealink found it smarter to hide and double on her tracks and stay low than move all the time. She noticed that this Predator favored an open fight and quick actions than patience and control. She used this to her advantage. If she stayed out of sight long enough, then the Predator would get annoyed and frustrated which led to mistakes. Sealink shifted a smile underneath a fern as she looked about. The coast was clear. If she had been being pursed by an Alien, things would have been a trifle more difficult.

Patience was the name of the game. I learned that at a very young age. Aliens are known for their patience. Mother had a saying: if the hunter is strong, good. If the hunter is fast, better. If the hunter is quiet, best.

I forgave Damon instantly; he was obviously was strained and the whole ‘capturing’ thing really put stress on him. And to make matters worse, if he was from a normal Hive he would have gone insane from the separation from the Hive. In a normal Hive, all the thoughts of the others would echo in their heads. Silence would be too much. But Damon. I respect him for his steady head and his coolness during an emergency. Poor Damon. Now that he knows that I’m alive, things will be different when I see him again.

If I see him again, thought Sealink glumly. Now I’m afraid to show my face. It’s been about five hours now—no, closer to six hours—since this ‘hunt’ started. I bet the foul meat is off. Well, Dauncha said that I wouldn’t be harmed, but I still did not feel totally at ease. That’s probably why I’m hiding in these bushes instead of roving around.

Sealink cocked her head, licking a fine spray of water off her upper lip. She was getting thirsty. Sealink weighed her options. The nearest puddle was about seventy five meters away. If she moved now, she risked being caught.

Finally, thirst won over caution as she crept warily away from her hiding spot toward the general direction of the puddle. Oh well if she was caught. Well, it was not the whole ‘capture’ part that freaked her out. It was the whole the-Predator-has-to-lay-his-filthy-foul-meat-hands-on-me thing. As if the very thought of the Predator summoned him, Sealink crouched low, straining her ears and other senses for any sign of the hunter.

Silence.

Nothing.

Oh Mother, stop it! Sealink scolded herself, loping gently on her haunches like a kangaroo on the ground. This is stupid. You are scaring yourself with this foolishness. Stop—

“Eeeeeeep!” yelped Sealink as a powerful form sprang from the bushes, its fist connecting with her thigh. Sealink hissed with surprise and pain as she tried to leap away, her punched muscle aching up a storm. The muscle complained mightily as Sealink tried to flee, instinctually cramping up to prevent any further damage to it. It grew so painful that Sealink was forced to stop, glaring spitefully around, searching for her attacker.

The attack was so sudden and swift that Sealink was at a loss. She had rendered ‘flightless’ in the matter of seconds and caught flatfooted. It was only when the gloating yautja appeared did Sealink drop her defensive pose. He had caught her. Time for him to retrieve her.

Sealink had only time to widen her eyes as the fist plowed into her shoulder, sending her spinning in the air. She twisted like a cat as she was airborne, gracefully landing on her four feet. Her shoulder was sending corkscrews of light bursting in her vision. Anger pulsed through her as the Predator stomped toward her, his hands balled into rock-hard fists.

But she did nothing. Let the yautja do what he willed with her. She would let it—no, anything—pass just to see Damon again. She bowed her head, scrunching up her eyes against the next blow.

But there was no pain.

Cautiously, Sealink opened one eye just before both of them flew open with surprise as the muscular Predator shoved her down. Sealink knew better than resist, stiff and rigid on the ground. She could hear the clicks and rattles coming from the Predator behind the pewter mask. She dared not move.

Stifling a soft gasp as her ankles were deftly and tightly tied together. What was he doing? Was he out of his . . . oh.

Finally finished with his tying, the Predator hoisted Sealink’s lower half over his body, causing Sealink’s upper half draped down his back. Right on his shoulder lay her abdomen, stretched to its fullest.

Sealink gasped again at the swiftness of it all. Her gasp of astonishment turned into one of annoyance as she swatted the young blood’s snaky dreadlocks out of her way. She was the world upside down as the Predator began to trek back, bouncing with his body’s rhythm.

Her shoulder and thigh still ached, but Sealink did not complain. She actually felt lucky. Two punches from a powerful and aggressive Predator? He must have done that as if for a warning, like a punishment for taking so long to capture. But she could only speculate what the punches were for. This Predator did not seem to be in a talking mood.

When she was dropped from the Predator’s shoulder an hour later, she dutifully followed Ra’ka back to Dauncha’s dwelling. There, she entered her little room and ate a plain meal of water and meat, with what looked to be some sort of fruit. After a wary session of nibbling and prodding, Sealink deemed it the best damned fruit she had ever tasted.

She then took to slumber, curling up like a dog beneath the covers of her ‘bed’. When she woke up, the ach in her thigh and shoulder was nearly gone. She fell on another meal of meat and water, this time with three slices of the mysteriously delicious fruit. She ate it hungrily, for it was the first time in many, many days when she had a constant flow of food.

When she was finished, Ra’ka summoned her and she followed the massive Predator right back to the clearing, right on the edge of the jungle. She and Ra’ka had only to wait for twenty minutes until Dauncha appeared with another young blood, this one equipped with a net gun and rope.

As always, Sealink carefully examined him behind Ra’ka’s tree trunk like leg. The young blood was almost as tall as Dauncha. His skin was lightly banded with green over the base orange colour. Darker patterns with the green created intricate rattlesnake bands across his reptilian, pebbly skin. Like all the others, he wore a mask of pewter, though this one was as black as night instead of the gray hue. The mask had no special markings nor designs, utterly subtle and mysterious. Crowning his large, oval head was the long, hard and fleshy dreadlocks that fell down right to his middle back. Their length rivaled those of Ra’ka!

He seemed definably not was muscular was most other yautja novices. His power seemed . . . hidden, concealed by his height instead of stored in his muscles. Sealink tensed and relaxed her legs. His own legs seemed long and powerful—a very powerful runner, she was sure. Wait a minute—since when did she notice and make note of Predators’ legs! Ah, Mother. This will one day be the end of me, thought Sealink as she was once again nudged forward by Ra’ka’s foot.

Sealink and the tall novice gazed at each other for a split second before Ra’ka growled, Run.

Like a startled hare, Sealink bounded in the undergrowth, zigzagging right and left, making as little noise as possible. The tall novice was right behind her, a clicking rumble sounding behind his helmet.

Like before, Sealink froze under a large and leafy frond, out of sight. Luckily, there was a small puddle and she hunkered down within it, only her head and the arch of her back showing above. In the silence she left a void. It was a big difference from the rustling and quaking vegetation she bumped in too before. Somewhere else but close, the Predator froze as well, slowly moving his head as he scanned the area. Sealink tired to quiet her racing heart. This Predator was close enough to reach down and grab the back of her throat. Sealink resisted the urge to snort. By Mother Herself this would be one hell of a short hunt if she was caught now.

Meanwhile, within his helmet, the infrared vision picked up nothing. He slowly moved away, his tall bulk not even making a sound. Sealink did not make a noise until he was out of sight. Sealink stayed quiet even then, hardly daring to breath. After ten minutes of no noise or motion, Sealink finally slunk out of her puddle. This did not make any sense. He was right on top of her, almost. He would have seen and caught her.

This made Sealink stop and think. Mother had told her a long time ago that yautja used infrared vision to pick up heat traces from their prey. That made them easier to hunt. But here she was in the puddle, and he couldn’t see her. Sealink tapped a nail against her teeth.

“Hmmmmm . . . .”

Sealink closed one eye with a grin. What if she masked her heat trace! Then she could be invisible in the hunter’s eyes! Sweetness! Sealink immediately returned back to the puddle and dug in deep, pulling up big clumps of mud and decomposing material. Without further thought she slapped it on as quick as could, knowing full well that the Predator could hear her and was on his way to hunt her.

But she had a few tricks up her sleeve. (well, she was not actually wearing sleeves, but that was besides the point.) She was completely covered with mud and decomposing stuff. Not a patch of skin remained clean. She crouched just as the tall Predator came into view, his arm with the net gun held out in front of him. Sealink forced her breaths to come slowly and calmly. She dared not move.

For several breathless seconds, the Predator looked around slowly, his gaze passing over Sealink’s muddied form not once, but three times. Sealink felt herself grow bolder on each pass. Ha! This new revelation could come in very handy later when she decided to escape.

When the Predator turned away, Sealink reached in the puddle and silently withdrew a handful of mud. With a wickedly mischievous gleam in her eyes, she launched the ball of mud and it splattered all over the Predator’s back. With a roar of surprise the hunter turned around just in time to receive another splatter of mud, this time all over his light chest armor.

Sealink felt like laughing as she shimmied up a tree, watching as the Predator growl with annoyance and something else . . . what was that? A rapid clicking noise, subtle under the growling. Was he chuckling?

Sealink did not have time to guess as she threw another mud ball at the Predator. The Predator growled louder this time, tilting his head in his attempt in finding his invisible attacker. Sealink was having the time of her life. She ducked and weaved and danced, protected by her slimy coating.

Soon it was not only her who was covered with the reddish brown muck; the Predator was receiving his own share. Soon both of them were covered. Ha. Let him try to get that cleaned out of his armor and mask, thought Sealink as she snuck up behind him and teasingly tugged a slippery dreadlock. She ducked the clout that was meant for her and rolled away.

It was two hours later. For more or less, Sealink and the young blood roughly stayed in the same spot. Sealink was getting itchy from her mud skin, but she dared not take it off. She was having too much fun. Finally, she was getting a chance to ‘play’. Of course, it was at the expense of the Predator.

But strangely, this Predator was roaring challenges or threats, but rather seemed to be taking the punishment of the mud balls in good humor. He was obviously trying to pinpoint her exact location, his mud-coated net gun poised for the perfect capture. But Sealink made a point in changing her location, always darting away from the net.

Then she made her mistake by repeating the same trick too many times. She slunk in, hoping to tug another dreadlock. She was just about to reach for it when the Predator suddenly crouched on his haunches, one hand reaching out and with one huge groping arch, he managed to grip an ankle tightly. With a hiss of surprise, Sealink fell heavily with the hot hand of the Predator still around her ankle.

With a strange clicking purr, the tall hunter stood up and held Sealink at arms length, letting her hand upside down. Sealink tried to struggle out of the Predator’s grip, but it was no use. Seeing that her fun was finally up, Sealink ceased struggling. She hung there, limp, waiting.

For a long moment the Predator stood still, still holding his prize. He clicked behind his mask. Then he started moving toward the puddle beneath the frond.

“What are you—hey!”

The Predator dropped her in the water (not letting go of the ankle) and shook her. Sealink came up, sputtering, wiping the mud and water out of her eyes. She looked down and flailed her arms as she was dropped again. Sealink sat there, waiting, her mud covering dripping off. The Predator clicked behind his pewter black mask, cocking his head slightly. What did that mean? Sealink was at a loss at the close scrutiny, but did not want to annoy the Predator by asking questions.

She was utterly taken off guard when the Predator rumbled, Nice trick.

“Ah . . . thank you.”

The two were silent until the Predator reached out and grabbed her ankle again. He started to drag her up over his shoulder when Sealink gave a small sign of resignation. As quick and as limber as a weasel, she didn’t allow the hunter to complete what he was doing all by himself. On her own with her own decision, she used the strong arm as a branch, hoisting herself up on his broad shoulder. She perched there, like a parrot.

If the Predator was surprised, he hid it very well. With only a small click, the yautja started walking back to the clearing. Sealink felt the muscles of the Predator ripple like water. His dreadlocks still felt slick from the mud. In fact, he was still covered with mud. It made Sealink a little guilty at having so much fun at his expense. He didn’t seem to take offense, though.

It was dizzying to be so high up from the ground sitting on a shoulder. Oh well. It was better than being slung upside down from the back of another’s shoulder, like last time. And he even congratulated her . . . wow. A compliment coming from a Predator other than Ra’ka’s rough ones? Interesting.

Sealink could see the surprise on Ra’ka’s face as he waited for them by the edge of the jungle, clearly not expecting to see them for at least another three hours or more. He immediately hid it, cocking one upper mandible in the human equivalent of a raised eyebrow. He stood, waiting.

Feeling that now was a good time, Sealink gracefully leapt down, the young blood absorbing the force of her leap. Sealink arched her back like a cat as she crouched toward Ra’ka’s feet, indifferently flicking flakes of mud off of her. Ra’ka blinked his two toned eyes as he eyed the young mud-covered hunter.

Very well. If you are done your hunt, you may rejoin the others in the sparring pits. Of course, Ra’ka added dryly with a light touch of humor, you may want to think about taking a wash first before you go.

The muddy novice bowed his head and thumped his chest with a fist before heading off around the bend, leaving Ra’ka and Sealink.

Ra’ka turned his attention to the girl by his feet. Sealink looked up with a cheeky grin. “What? So I had a little fun.”

Ra’ka gazed at the girl with a humorous rumble in his chest. Mud, eh? Not wrestling, I hope.

Sealink rolled the length of her body in the grass, rubbing the mud off of her.

The Trainer clacked offhandedly, That was quick.

So he means the hunt, thought Sealink. He and Dauncha doesn’t act as if they care what happens to them during ‘a hunt’ before . . . they must be hiding it. Oh, no! What if they find out that I have figured out about their weakness? Hmm. Must be tricky.

“So it was,” replied Sealink in the same tone, promising herself that she would tell Ra’ka some details if he actually asked a direct question.

But as she had hoped, Ra’ka did not. It was beneath him to ask an ooman slave questions. With a grunt, Ra’ka began to walk away with Sealink in tow. Sealink smiled dryly behind the massive, broad back. If one thought about it, it was his and the others’ belief that would allow her to escape. If they had asked questions, then they might have caught a whiff of what she was planning. But of course, how could a mere ooman in the presence of all these big, tough yautja think of such plans? Ha. Sealink could not wait to see the look on their faces when they discovered that she was actually speeding away in a starship?

Sealink could have purred with pleasure at her cleverness, but did not want to risk blowing her cover already. Maybe she was overreacting. Oh well. Either way, she didn’t want to raise any suspicions.

Sealink crooned happily as Damon nuzzled her shoulder in greeting.

“Hi again, Damon.”

You have my salutations once more, Sealink. Are you well? You smell of ground.

“Yes, well, I had a mud fight with a yautja.”

Did you now? asked Damon simply, his interest showing in his body language. Sealink tickled him under his chin.

“Later, later. I will tell you all later,” chuckled Sealink. “But first, I have something to tell you.”

Damon didn’t answer, but curled around her like a protective dog, waiting. Sealink lowered her voice inconspicuously. “I think I may have a way out of here.”

That grabbed the Warrior drone’s attention. What is it, Sealink? he asked seriously, all business now. This was the old Damon Sealink knew; his moods utterly corresponding with the situation.

“This place was built a long time ago. It may be old enough that there are secret passage ways about. I don’t know any, but I will ask around.”

Damon tapped one long, cold finger on the ground. Tap . . . tap.

It would make sense. This place smells old, too. The metal in this place has seen much, and it is not as advanced as the ones of the ship. You are right. If you guard your queries carefully, then maybe you may be able to obtain the information we seek.

Sealink nodded, resting her head on Damon’s shoulder, feeling wholly safe in his presence. There was something comforting about him, as if his size and strength would protect her from the outside hostile world. “I know just who to ask.”

Good. Damon hesitated. We will wait for the perfect time to escape.

Sealink frowned. “Damon?”

Damon looked away. Yes? he asked quietly, as if not entirely at ease with speaking.

“I felt you tense up. Your voice seemed to be hiding something. What is it, Damon?”

Damon gave an Alien sigh, his sides billowing. Sorrow was laced in his voice.

Sealink, I am sorry. I was hoping to keep this a secret, but . . .

“But what?” Sealink dreaded the answer, but morbid curiosity spurred her forward. “What?”

Damon’s eyeless head continued to look at the glass door. I was not the only Alien caught as well, Sealink.

Sealink said nothing, a coldness setting deep within her breast.

Queen Melentellinas has been taken as prisoner. She is being used for breeding, but you know how old She is . . .

“No!” whispered Sealink, all breath crushed out of her lungs. The room felt cold, so cold.

I feel Her thoughts inside of me, Sealink. She is dying. She can not take this anymore. Her thoughts are a jumble, no pattern, no ending. Damon’s voice was laden with weariness and tired anger, as if he had no more anger left to use. She has laid Her last eggs, Sealink. Her time as come.

“This cannot be!” breathed Sealink, but she knew that it was. Mother, dying. It was as if she was wrenched away from the light and warmth of all she knew and cast into shivering darkness. Mother, poor Mother . . . She only wanted to be left alone and sleep. She wanted to die surrounded by Her Hive . . . and now She would die a prisoner, gagged and bound by her enemies.

“I must go to Mother, Damon.” Sealink’s voice dulling hatred she had felt for the yautja came back strong, nothing short of a pure vision of red. Sealink remembered dimly the words her Mother had used: They would strike you a terrible blow, Sealink . . .

Sealink hugged Damon fiercely, as if afraid that if she let go, Damon would be dead as well.

“I will go to Her, Damon. This I promise.”

“Master,” said Sealink dully, trying to hide the shaking of the loathing racing through her body. Dauncha looked down from his stone chair, watching his son practice his dagger skills.

Yes? What is it?

“Master, I . . .” Sealink closed her eyes, seeking strength. “I have heard that you have captured an Alien Queen.”

Dauncha leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly. Yes, that is right. Why do you care?

“Please, master . . . She was my Mother—She is dying, I must go and see Her—”

Must, little slave? rumbled Dauncha mildly, still not moving.

Sealink lowered her head even lower, inside screaming her frustration.

“I would . . . like it very, very much, master. Please. She is dying.” Sealink forced her voice to be contrite and meek, adding a waver to the end for extra emphasis.

Dauncha was quiet for a bit. Finally, he said in an offhand way, Yes, she is dying. She is weak and old. She only produced a few dozen eggs. Only a few are not duds. She is worthless to me.

Sealink trembled with utter fury, feeling the burning sensation of pricking tears. They were hot and painful as she tried to control them.

“Please, master . . . if She is dying, may I go and see Her? For my last respects?”

Dauncha stroked a mandible slowly, watching Sealink. Sealink strove to control herself, making her shaking cease and her tears stay at bay. If Dauncha said she could not see Her, then she would see her dying Mother anyway, whether he liked it or not. He could beat her to bloody pulp for all she cared. She must see her Mother, her Queen, her beauty. Even then, the prospect of being beaten was met with a cringe. Dauncha was a powerful full blood. He would make sure she would not lightly disobey him.

Alright, you may see her, since she is dying anyway and you have pleased me in the past.

Never had Sealink been so thankful that she had listened to Dauncha and not rebelled early on.

I will grant you your audience with the Queen. You may see her when Ra’ka comes back.

Sealink bowed her head, her throat tight and her mouth tasting sour. She couldn’t believe it. Mother . . . oh Mother . . .

It seemed to Sealink that Ra’ka just couldn’t move fast enough. Oh how she wanted to race ahead, in fear that she was too late. What if she was? What if she appeared in the great prison, only to find the great black dragon already dead? Sealink closed her eyes as she felt the prick of hot tears burn her eyes. No. Mother will be alive, Sealink thought. She will wait for me. It is the least She could do.

I do not know why you want to see it, commented Ra’ka as he climbed the steps to the building. She’s just about dead, anyway.

Sealink said nothing, afraid that if she opened her mouth, her fangs would be buried in his neck—or any yaujta’s neck for that matter—in a heartbeat. Her bitterness and anger was too great.

Here we are. Remember, do not even think about showing any disrespect after this. It was out of Dauncha’s soft side did he allow you such an audience. Nothing more.

That is my Mother in there. And all what you can think about is respect.

Very well. Go in.

Sealink gulped her nervousness down—the same nervousness and dread any person feels when they are asked if a mangled corpse is indeed their mother or father, and entered. It was dark. That was the first thing that struck her. There was a single shaft of puny light shining down over the trapped dragon, casting most of Her in deep shadow. All of Her impossibly strong limbs, shackled. Her tiered, lustrous comb, chained back. And most depressing, the thick cord strung between Her outer jaws, gagging Her. She was on the ground, still and unmoving except for Her billowing sides.

The Queen was tightly tied. It was like watching an insect impaled on a pin, dying slowly.

“Mother!” moaned Sealink, pitching forward, sorrow and anger making her want to tear all the chains and gags off of Her. “Oh Mother,” she whispered fiercely between clenched teeth as she bit through the thickly corded rope that gagged Her. The most terrible this was that the Queen was still through it all, hardly making a protest. Sealink was shoved into a frenzy of motion, unhinging and tearing chains and cords that bound Her.

Finally, the great Queen Mèlintèlinas was free. And yet She remained on the ground, breathing slowly, death creeping slowly upon Her. Sealink felt tears drip down her face but she was oblivious to them. They, ignored, pattered on the slick, black hard skull of the Alien Queen.

I kneeled, suddenly petrified by Her astounding beauty. I hadn’t expected this at all. My mouth was dry, my fingers trembling. Good Mother . . . it was the physical incarnation of splendor. It had been to long, far too long that I had been away from Her. My royalty, my superior. My queen. I stared in awe at the sight before me. The heavenly creature I watched that was a horribly deep black from the end of Her antler like comb to the tip of that jagged, spine tipped tail. I could hear the breaths emitting from deep inside that hard, wet exoskeleton. A tear rolled down my cheek as the fearful heat boiling in my gut floated away. She was in pain . . . oh, my love was in pain, and the soft groans and bellows escaping Her maw echoed in the cold through the chamber proved it. The capture, the age, the stress. It had to be.

It wasn’t fair that She had been cursed with such fate . . . She was so glorious. My hands shook still, but I managed to touch Her, my tiny form easily dwarfed by Her majesty. It was unbearable, the cold wetness felt on the skin between my fingers. She was so close, I just let myself go limp, let my body rest against the cool head of my queen. The room flooded with soft warmth, as I relaxed my body.

There was a slight stirring beneath Sealink’s body. It was as if the very ground was shaking. Afraid, Sealink crouched back, cowering before Her. There was a pinprick of warmth in her mind, a tingling feeling at the back of her neck. It grew and grew until it seemed to fill the universe of Sealink’s mind. And then it spoke.

My child?

The voice sounded so old and forlorn Sealink’s eyes streamed silently. Sealink trembled, afraid and yet overjoyed at the same time.

“Mother.”

Nothing else could escape her throat. It was too painful.

Queen Mèlintèlinas stirred even more on the ground, Her long and cold digits scoring deep marks in the dirt floor.

Sealink?

The voice grew in strength, as if the very word gave Her vigor.

It was too much. Sealink broke down sobbing. “I am so sorry, Mother. I tried to stop them, I really did. Oh, You are dying, and there is nothing I can do Mother. Mother? Mother!”

I am here, little one, the Queen murmured gently, weariness swamping Her voice, muffling it.

I could sense she was smiling at me, bending Her head slightly up to meet I, the inferior pawn. I was beyond bliss as She let me touch Her, caress Her. She nuzzled me gently, giving me the privilege of feeling the sticky, hard flesh of Her head.

I could sense a deep release from within my Mother’s soul, the first breath in many that hadn’t been laden by anger, pain, or sorrow.

I rose slowly before Her. Her enormous, beautifully ornate form raised slightly, the tiny arms on Her chest pushing Her up so Her larger arms could move downwards, claws digging into the ground to hold Her up. Her sadness echoed out with every sound, like the mourning of a whale that had lost Her young. My queen, I am so sorry, I thought, but She needed no apology. She nudged Her head into my stomach, breathing heavily upon me. I rested my hands gently upon Her head, brushing my fingers up and down Her comb as one of Her clawed hands curled about my waist, holding me closely to Her head. Her body heaved up and down, up and down as She tried to stay up.

I looked to Her egg sack where close to a dozen eggs were, incubating in the life giving fluids inside. They would most likely be the last eggs my Queen laid. Tears began to stream down my face as my heart burned. I hated this feeling, but I didn’t hate Her for bringing it upon me. What was She trying to tell me? Was She letting me know that She was ready to die? Who would continue Her legacy . . . me? Was I heir?

Impossible. A human, far unworthy of the crown that rested upon my beauty, my liege, who lay before me.

“What is it, Mother? Oh Mother, I do not understand,” I cried to Her, stroking Her beautiful black crown.

I cried, resting my forehead against Her comb as my salty, filthy tears fell down my face and onto Hers.

She began to move. Slowly and painfully, She rose up, seemingly onto Her haunches like some sort of canine. It pained me to see Her take such a stance . . . Her largest set of arms thrust downwards into the ground, hands together, to prop Her massive frame up, the smaller set resting their elbows upon Her knees, and the tiny arms in Her chest hanging limply where they sprouted. She was looking right at me.

“Mother . . .”

My daughter, my child. I crown you as my successor. Live for Me, my child. Escape and find My Hive. Live and grow. Guard them, my little one. The Queen struggled to stay in Her canine posture, Her bulk swaying dangerously. Her breaths grew shorter and harsher as She struggled to maintain Her link with me for mindspeech. Damon, Damon, the one who is destined to be your mate: he shall be King, and you Queen. This is my final gift to you, precious Sealink.

The Queen trembled and quivered mightily. She slowly sank down, Her haunches giving way underneath Her like rebelling trees. With a dull thud that shook Sealink to her marrow, Queen Mèlintèlinas fell back in Her original position. Her tail shook and stilled. Her limbs twitched once and went quiet. The billowing sides slowed their up and down rhythm. Sealink’s face was wet with tears and snot that ran down unchecked from her nose as she watched, helplessly, from the side.

Unable to take it, Sealink decided she would not wait on the sidelines, and cradled the massive head of her beloved Queen.

The Queen lowered Her head lastly and bared Her own, enormous deadly fangs in grinning death. Her body trembled with rage—not sorrow, not pain from dying, but rage—the same rage that I felt. The stench of the yaujta hit Sealink harder than before.

And for one, clean, and heavenly moment, I could hear what She had wanted from me. I heard it in my real mother’s voice.

Kill all.

Chapter 13

Sealink stepped outside, dully aware of Ra’ka waiting. It had been nearly four months now since her Mother had died. She was still in the shock of it, only Damon’s comforting presence keeping her from snapping into insanity. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t sense or feel her Mother’s presence. That tiny little pinprick in the back of her mind was gone.

Forever.

Everything was now happening in a blur. She continued to be hunted, doing the usual hunt-and-capture thing. The tall Predator with the black mask continued to come back for a hunt, always testing his hunting abilities. The hunting grew steadily more and more advanced, more weapons and armor adding on and on.

Once and awhile she practiced and trained the little Predator, Dauncha’s child. She cleaned and washed Dauncha’s amour as well as Ra’ka’s training gear. Everyday passed uneventfully.

It was only a month later did she begin to put her mind more and more on the business of escaping. Thanks to several cleverly put questions to the Trainer, she had discovered that the sparring arenas were indeed very old and there was a very good chance of hidden passage ways. Of course, Sealink did not ask if there were any, not to raise suspicions.

It was only by luck that she had found a secret and rickety old passage way leading off somewhere in the jungle. It was when she sneaked out of the hunting jungle one day to see where the secret passage way led did she discover that she now had a plan to free Damon.

Ever since the Dark Day when Mother had died, Sealink noticed that Damon was changing. For the good, Sealink fervently hoped. It was only when Damon began to sprout two curving horns out of his once smooth skull did she realize that Damon was transforming into an Alien King. They were rare and darksome fair creatures. They sported a regal crest as well as two curving horns. They were slightly smaller than Queens, but bigger than any drone or praetorian. Beautifully deadly creatures.

Beautiful creatures.

Sealink herself underwent changes. Her once blonde hair turned ebony black with only one strip of her hair remaining blonde. Her once silver-blue irises turned pitch black. She noticed that she telepathic abilities of her own, now able to speak to Damon just like the late Queen Mèlintèlinas. She was becoming an Alien Queen.

The yaujta noticed this change and they grew increasingly uneasy about trusting her. Even Dauncha was using her for more actual ‘slave work’ now instead of the hunting and sparring that flecked her schedule, always along with a watchful guard. Even Ra’ka seemed less inclined to speak with her or be alone with her. Soon, over the four months, she steadily became more and more ignored and disdained until she practically was in the same cell as Damon. Which was a wonderful thing for her.

This made everything much more easier. Much, much, more easier.

One month later . . .

Sealink and Damon had fought hard and were a deadly team when it came to their breakout. As planned, Sealink lodged a strip of bone between the glass door and the wall, thus allowing a thin strip of freedom. Using his tail, Damon slit it through the crack and widened it enough for his mate and himself to escape.

As quickly and as silently as shadows, she and he fled down the dark tunnel of the training arena and escaped into the jungle. There, she and Damon found a small ship that was getting ready for a hunt somewhere. With a single blast of her mind, Sealink managed to knock many, many yaujta unconscious. Those who managed to keep conscious during the blast were laid low by the raging Damon, who used his newfound status to wreak considerable damage among the ranks.

If there were any pity in Sealink before, it was dried up now. The death of her Mother had confirmed it, while the capture of her and her precious Damon sealed it. She was without mercy, bent on only returning home and fulfilling the late Queen’s wishes.

Sealink one night before the escape had cuddled up to Damon and murmured, “Am I truly without honour for breaking Dauncha’s word?”

Damon had shaken his head lovingly down at his small Queen. No, Sealink. For you have promised to be his slave, and now you are practically ignored. You are not a slave anymore. You are freed. He brought it upon himself.

He bent his head and, careful of poking her fair skin with his sharp horns, he nuzzled her. You have much honour in you, my Queen.

Sealink had sighed happily. “Please do not call me that, Damon. It sounds to . . . well, how would you like it if I called you ‘my King’ all the time?”

Damon had cocked his head with a warbling hiss. Once again, you are right as always, my mate.

“Much better.” Sealink had been silent for a long moment after that, frowning at a sudden memory. She had placed her head on Damon’s ornate side again, feeling the slickness of the hard exoskeleton beneath her. “Do you remember in the very beginning of this adventure, when we were still back on the planet with Zizar and Mother, that you had once asked me to call you ‘my Lord’. Remember?”

Damon had been silent for a bit before saying, Yes, I remember. Funny, is it not?

“Yes. How funny.”

And now Sealink and Damon had raced on board on the ship, finally closing the door against the enraged yaujta outside. After spending so much time with the yaujta, Sealink knew how to work the controls (thanks to several lessons from Ra’ka. I’m sure now that he regrets it immensely) and got the ship in the air. Then they were out in space, leaving the terrible planet behind

She chuckled at Damon as the King settled down like a canine, ready for the long trip back home. She could not wait: the coolness of the forest, the daily warbles and hisses and skreeeeeeees of the Hive—oh, she could not wait! How she had come to loath the grunts, growls, rumbles and clicks of the yaujta. How she had come to miss the high pitched sounds of the Alien. Ah . . . back home. She could not wait. She wondered if Kaylon was still teaching young Zizar on how to be a great Warrior. Damon could teach the little guy some moves, she thought as she put the ship on automatic pilot and curled up between Damon’s now massive limbs.

And she slept, finally going home. Of course, she would first move the Hive to another location so when the yaujta hunters come looking for her, she’d be ready. Oh, and if this was a hunting ship, then there would be some nice weapons for her to take. Kaylon and Zizar probably went back to the terrible scene to retrieve her stardust weapons.

Sealink fell into a deeper slumber where such thoughts could not follow. But before she could pass entirely out of consciousness, the purring of Damon filled her to the brim, and she purred back.

The End.