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A different type of warrior	By : ItchyTasty Category: M through R > Predator Views: 12967 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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2: Soft Meat The makeshift medical tent was a swarm of activity. Marines who had been on the excursion to the pit edge were guarding the entrance haughtily holding their tongues if not so much for secrecy as to annoy their shipmates who were begging to know about what had been found. Kara stood somewhat inside the entry, her rank and clearance allowing her access to anything found during the course of the expedition. However she didn't crowd in like the rest.
The male didn't completely fit on the table, his length, just short of eight feet put his calves and huge feet in a hovering position over the floor. The marines had used military issue handcuffs in addition to the standard strap restraints to secure him. However thus far he was too weak to move. Their medic, Holmes was busy probing the left side of the male's chest inspecting the breaks, while a constant and nearly inaudible drip of an IV fed fluids into his dehydrated form. She was conflicted. Here was an encounter with a species that they had heard rumors of for years but never captured alive. He seemed proud, his armor dented, his dreadlocks short and thick, covered by spinal bones of some creature and plated in some lustrous yellow metal.
“His injuries are heavy, he has four broken ribs and two more which appear to be fractured, deep tissue bruising all along this half of his body. His left arm was relatively unhurt, and he's sustained several small impact bruises from blunt trauma. Most likely from falling debris. He's covered with small cuts and burns and there's a sizable dent in his helmet. I'd like to try and take that off if we could.” Said Holmes She was about to object but Michael saved her the trouble.
“Thing looks like a respirator to me, could need it to live, it's worth more alive than dead at any rate.” He said
The IV was busy pumping him full of fluid to keep him hydrated, it also was drugged with doses of DMT and barbiturates. The painkillers made sure he didn't go into shock and die from his half ruined chest while it healed. The DMT was a guess on their part, it was standard issue for cryo sleep, the brain produces it when dreaming, and can't manufacture enough to keep the body in a rest cycle during lengthy cryo sleep, anyone seriously injured enough to need evac before treatment gets the juice to keep them in happy land and knocked out. She almost hoped he'd wake up. Poor bastard didn't deserve the dissection that would be waiting for him when the company sank it's claws into him. He twitched while he was dreaming, his right side lifting and shaking the table when he fell back in the restraints. “Sure he's secure?” Asked Sergeant Mallan “Fucker weighs a ton.” “Actually he's closer to four hundred pounds, probably more like three thirty without the armor and gear.” Said the medic “You didn't fucking have to lift him.” Retorted the marine Kara couldn't help but chuckle. She quietly stepped outside wondering if they company would actually reward them the money promised for live Xenos. The black bugs were worth a hell of a lot brought in alive. The tall humanoid, she didn't want to think about it. The bastard's technology was probably worth more than the cruiser they flew in on.
She stepped to the edge of the camp where the marines fired their daily ration of practice ammunition and unholstered the new pistol she'd been given by the guys when she'd nuked her first bug. It was a heavier model than the one she'd had before. Fewer rounds in the magazine, but more stopping power, she couldn't say she minded the trade off. She looked down range at the makeshift target, a ration crate they'd emptied, regulations stated that all supply crates once empty were to be jettisoned into space, the concept was simple, containers were cheap, starship fuel was not, if you extended the life on a Polarian core by a year by lowering the amount of mass it had to haul, you saved enough cash to purchase rations for the entire crew for the ten year or so life span of the reactor. She dropped into a two handed stance her left foot forward slightly the pistol coming up to eye level as she sighted down range at the container. She imagined the black oil-slick head of the xeno, and squeezed. The trigger depressed, firing her first round down range, she missed the box by a hair splintering the stone it leaned against and shifting it's position a bit. Her second found nothing but air, she knew it wasn't her aim. The kick on the monster was heavy, making her rounds further between than the VP-70... she didn't like that thought.
“I can tool it a bit if you like,” Said the cigar smoker “Weight the front end a bit, and balance the trigger to the four pounds you're used to.”
“Shouldn't sneak up on someone who's firing live soldier, especially when she's still spooked.” She said
“Fair enough... name's Dutch.” He said, extending his hand, which she took and shook in a manner she hoped passed for friendly.
“Dutch? Kind of an odd name.” She said while sighting down the range again.
“Father named me for someone back in our family from Earth, used to tell me stories, made me want to join the corps and, well here I am, piss deep in shit I don't need.” He said “Look lady, I've seen the way you look at me, it ain't what I call attraction and I can accept that, you can relax, because I'm not trying to get under your armor and into your pants.”
Kara laughed for the first time since touching down... maybe longer. Least here was an honest bastard, though likely still a horny one.
“Catch,” She said, throwing him the weapon.
“Mark four Cytech, pistol, unmodified. ” He said “Dropper ammunition in 18.53mm rounds. Heavy son of a bitch, bet your wrist is feeling it in the morning.”
“So I've noticed.” Said Kara
“Thing about this ammunition, it's big, non explosive, and flies at low velocity, meaning instead of punching through most targets, it just... well kinda sends them flying.” He said, to demonstrate he lifted the thing sighting down it's barrel and fired the shot hit the box dead center and shattered the thing, leaving it broken on the ground.
“Doesn't beat a pulse rifle, but if knockdown is what you want... can't do much better, probably could knock our friend back there flat on his ass if you hit him center mass. Don't think it would kill him though. Tough bastards those.”
“What do you mean?” She asked “Guy I'm named for killed one, after it took out his entire squad of special operations guys in some jungle back on earth.” He said “Got a few pictures of him somewhere, tough bastard.”
“You're full of surprises, let's go to your little outfitting station then.” She said.
He waved her forward and she followed, he was stocky, his shoulders hugely broad, but obviously not a body builder, he was made of functional muscle. She liked the fact he wasn't going to try and make a move on her, perhaps she'd found a friend.
He was groggy, something was wrong with him, he couldn't move, the room kaleidoscoped in and out and he felt nauseous. He didn't have time to analyze anything before sleep took him again, save that he heard a strange noise, and light was shining down on him from above. Was he dying?
She hefted the now heavier Cytec and sighted the new target where the old one had been. The trigger depressed smooth, in a light fluid motion. The hammer hit and the large bore round slammed out of the muzzle with a resounding crash, the flame from the cartridge billowing out in a large cone. The new box setup where the old one had been splintered, the stone behind it cracked and a gaping hole was left where the round deposited itself. She Had felt the kick still, but the barrel had hardly lifted and she should have fired again immediately.
“That miss, is how a hand cannon should handle.” Said Dutch as he turned and walked back toward camp. She didn't need to ask him if he'd lowered the trigger weight, it was easy to tell that he made it close to eight ounces than four pounds. She focused, and sent another round down range, then another and another. The slide disengaged smoke billowing out the back end, the damn thing felt like handling a bull, but it's fury was directed away from her. Her group from fifty meters wasn't too terribly impressive, but it left a small crater of splintered stone. She smiled and headed back to camp.
The next few days fell by quickly, preparations were made, and communications were relayed to the company detailing their discoveries. They were promised full honors, and a few years salary each for the dead xenomorph, and what was more the live alien would set them up nicely for life once they got it back. Kara didn't hold her breath, the company could reward, but rarely for something found in a place it already owned. Besides she wasn't sure she wanted to turn the big guy over for inspection and disassembly... When medic Holmes declared the survivor stable enough to travel the marines called down the dropships and packed up shop.
The drive back to the landing site wasn't filled with the same excitement for her as the drive in had been. She didn't bother talking to anyone to busy as she was with her own thoughts. However she noticed that Dutch didn't fiddle with his weapon at all, nor banter with his fellows, was he feeling her same apprehension perhaps? The dropships lifted them off without further incident and launched starward. The cloudless night sky broke and spread wide for the small ships advancing on the cruiser in it's low orbit around the planet. The hull noise subsided and there was an instant calm as the dropship exited the planet's atmosphere and entered the near void of space. They docked with no problem, the soldiers clustering as they got their first look at the captive and his protective train of scientists.
For once she was glad not to be the obvious center of attention. It would be at least a day before the ship departed for corporate space, a military escort was to meet them half way and guide them and their precious cargo to safety. Such an event would never take place. He was in a half dream, he heard the feral sounds of warriors in combat.
He had no idea how long he'd been asleep. Nor if he could stand. Yet something told him he must try. He started to raise his left arm to push himself upright when something small and warm pressed it back down. Turning his head he saw the same little warrior from before. Even drugged as he was he could make out the blade in her hand and the burner in her other. So she was finishing the job. He would give her a battle if he could. He tried to jerk up right bringing his Ki'cti-pa through her throat yet he was held in place. She chattered something at him and took her blade to the restraints holding him still. He did not understand her and recorded her voice for later use.
“Hold still you bloody monkey, or this won't work.” She said
Things were going far to apeshit for the extension of those razor like talons more than half the length of her arm to stop her at this point. If he killed her it wouldn't matter, she was going to die if she didn't free him. She could hear the sounds of the marines fighting the pirates on one of the lower decks. Being a corpse seemed a better option than becoming a sex slave and getting sold at auction later. Their ship had jammed their transmissions and rammed the cruiser getting in under it's guns and too close for nukes. The boarding party fought hard, and killed quite a few of the marines before they could arm themselves.
The Sargent and Dutch were leading a more coordinated defense trying to block off access to the command deck where the rest of the scientists were hiding. She only hoped they hadn't noticed her departure, not that she cared. The pirates were winning, they simply had more numbers. She took the knife to the last of the straps and suddenly the only thing holding the alien down was the metal restraints, unfortunately she didn't have any tools to help with that.
He soon realized that if he wanted his freedom he had to let her continue, and so he remained still. She cut the last of the bonds and then stood back saying something else he couldn't comprehend. He tried to move, yet there were still metal rings holding his arms and legs still. Simple enough, he ripped his good arm free of the twisted remnant of one restraint and used his blades to cut the rest quickly and efficiently. The battle sounds were drawing closer. The female turned toward the noise lifting her burner. His elders had told him of the soft meat, and their petty conflicts between their kind. Had some conflict broken out among their hunters over who's kill he was?
“What is this game little one?” He said
She had no idea what the big brute had said. He stood at nearly his full height, still swaying from the drugs though he seemed little the worse for wear in spite of it. The big guy looked like he could still fight if need be. She hoped she was right, regardless he wouldn't die in some twisted corporate experiment this way. She grabbed his arm on the armored section above his gauntlet and motioned him to follow her. Her immediate thought was to get a dropship and head for the surface. So she set out to find her way to the deck. She heard him following her so she paid no mind to him for the moment, he would just have to figure out what was going on for himself.
The female Ooman trotted in front of him, swaying slightly as she went, he had no idea where she was going, but it was not toward the fighting. His honor told him that his place was in that combat. However he had not received permission from his elders to hunt the soft meat, and thus could not initiate conflict.
So he followed the short rounded Ooman through the belly of their vessel. Pausing only to activate his shift suit instantly blending in with the ship around him. His hunt was with the hard meat, and it would be dishonorable to engage the Oomans at this point. She rounded the corner nearing the access hatch to the hangar bay. Only to find armored space pirates blocking the way. She ducked back out of sight before they noticed her.
“Damn, I wonder how many more they have near the ships...” She muttered
She paused to take a look for the alien which had been following her. She couldn't see him, did he run off and leave her there to fend for herself? Better than killing her she supposed, yet she'd heard him only a second ago, wait, there was something funny.
The Ooman reached a slender arm toward him and poked him in the chest with her tiny warm finger. He clicked the blending field off for a moment with his mandible and purred at her to tell her he was still there. Then having reassured her cloaked back up and waited on her move. There were two Ooman warriors in the hall, he could smell their excitement. It was a grand hunt for them, and they were tense and on edge, worthy prey. However she was leading this hunt, best to see what she could do.
The two men were standing a nearly two meters apart, the one had a shotgun the other a pulse rifle, marine issue, modified with a scope, they were about seventy feet away. She'd only get one shot at this, she wished she could tell her camouflaged friend to sneak up on the sharp shooter while she shot the other, but he was staying out of the line of fire for the moment. Perhaps he was still drugged?
“Fuck it,” She muttered
Turning the corner quickly she lined up the rifleman, he was just shouldering his weapon when she fired, the heavy round hitting him in the shoulder and sending him spiraling into his startled friend across the bay door. They collapsed into a yelling blood soaked pile on the floor. The first man made no move to get up, dead, in shock from the force of the impact, she didn't care, she took her time and aimed for the other man who struggled to get up his shotgun laying useless on the ground a few feet from his hands.
She maximized the efficiency of her burner, downing the two warriors with one shot, then executing the still living Ooman before he could get to his weapon. Not the most honorable way to go about the kill, yet skillful and efficient. His respect for her grew a bit. His audio sensor amplified hearing heard the footsteps before she did, the male Ooman rushing up behind her would have taken her unaware. His Ki'cti-pa extended before he realized what he was doing and gutted the coward male before he could snatch the female warrior. He turned off his camouflage so he could see the terror in the dying man's eyes as his life bled out of him.
It appeared the big guy was worth a damn after all, she hadn't heard the man behind her, her ears were still ringing from firing her cannon of a pistol in such tight spaces, something to keep in mind for later she supposed. The Yautja flung the corpse away with distaste and turned his head toward her quizzically as if asking, what next? The hell if she knew, there should be more pirates in the hangar policing the gear there, perhaps they wouldn't be able to hear the gunshots over the machinery, she doubted it. She rushed down the hall, the light plink of her boots against the girders echoed by the less frequent but much heavier tread of her new friend. She snatched up the pulse rifle from where it had fallen, checking the counter on the side confirming a full magazine before even thinking of checking the corner. A burst of gunfire broke out whipping by the space just in front of her face and smacking dead into the far wall of the corridor. The staccato of gunfire was harsh in the close environment. She hadn't even had time to count their numbers.
The little warrior risked a visual acquisition of her new prey and nearly lost her life doing so. He was already damned for engaging the first Ooman in the hallway so he had no qualms about proceeding with a violent course of action. His father had always considered him headstrong and more eager to get in a fight than use stealth. He materialized briefly, and got her attention pointing to himself then across the gap, he would draw fire while she engaged the Oomans inside with her burner.
He seemed to think she was capable of covering him while he dashed to the other side of the doorway. She wasn't sure but in their current state... communications weren't exactly easy. She simply nodded and hoped he understood. It had been awhile since she fired a pulse rifle, she released the safety and dialed it in for single fire. The optics on the scope were sufficient for the range, all she could do was hope he knew what he was doing. He activated the plasma caster, it's charge indicated he still had plenty of fires left. He chittered happily that the weapon had survived the cave in unhurt. Truly it was a superiorly crafted weapon.
The female seemed ready so he lined himself up, and sprang from cover, humans fired their burners in return spraying the wall, a few shots skipping across his pauldron before he was clear. He saw two drop their heads becoming ruined shells as the female's burner took them apart. He signaled for her to fire again yet she didn't understand. He was motioning with a clenched fist at her, she had no idea what he wanted. However his frustration poured over his body as soon as he realized she didn't know what he meant. With a roar he jumped into the open landing in a crouch facing their enemies and lifting his arm, the small tube on his gauntlet erupted with a flash of sulfuric fire crashing toward the makeshift barricade the pirates had made setting fire to the metal crates with its intense heat and guttering out just beyond.
She could hear the screams of pain from the heat flash and took her chance peaking out as she'd done when he ran across, she saw an arm, that was good enough. Her rifle barked and a man screamed, the bloody stump collapsing and his head coming into view as he fell, the rifle roared once more and then silence reigned.
He had activated his camouflage after firing his weapon and stalked into the room while the female dispatched another of their prey. She was worthy, if untrained. With some effort she might become blooded. He cleared the barricade to find only one of the warriors still alive, scorched from the plasma and twisting in agony. He put the Ooman down with a swift kick of his armored sandal. Then he roared his triumph for the hunt was finished for the moment. He smelt no more Oomans nearby, only the oils of their machines, and the anger and fright of the female warrior.
She heard the big alien roar, while she continued to cover him from the corner, not wanting to end up catching a stray bullet while he was advancing. Soon he came back around the barricade. Apparently unhurt, and unsure of what to do next. She smiled, thinking (I guess it's my show.)
The female broke from her cover and proceeded to trot across the deck material of the Ooman space vessel toward what appeared to be some variety of Ooman landing craft. She motioned for him to follow her, so he did. The vessel looked like some form of fat scavenger bird with no neck to speak of and a fat head with a rounded beak. It's wings held pods of weapons he could see but not identify. Knowing the extent of Ooman technology, they were most likely self propelled guided explosives. Useful if they needed them at a later date. She led him inside and to what appeared to be a control room with forward viewports. However their escape seemed improbable due to the doors to the docking bay still being closed.
“Those need to be opened,” He said, pointing.
The alien clicked, and growled a bit and pointed at the blast doors.
“Ya I know, don't worry about it, strap into that chair if you can.” She said.
One of the side view screens showed that men were entering the hangar behind them, she had to act fast, and didn't know the access codes.
“Fuck it,” She said.
He had started recording when she'd spoken again, if he was to understand her he would need samples of her language to decipher. Catching movement on one of the displays she said something else, it sounded unhappy, her sent agitated. He grabbed hold of the other sitting location to steady himself, he had a good idea of what she was about to try, her bravery bordering on foolishness. The view from outside the cruiser was fantastic. The explosion when the salvo of missiles from one of the dropship's pods ripped a huge hole in the docking bay door, large enough for the ship to slip out. It also caused explosive decompression. The pirates filing into the bay were whisked out into the frozen void along with a large portion of the lighter cargo items in the bay. The engines of the dropship flared to life and it rushed out of the wounded vessel heading out to space.
The auto tracking turrets on the cruiser however registered the dropship as stolen and opened fire ending their peaceful flight quickly. Kara struggled to bring the ship out of the cruiser's range, the light guns peppering the hull with impacts. The D-class transport armor shrugging off a great portion of the damage, however one of the wings sheared off the ship and it began to leak cabin pressure to the void. She was left with no choice.
Ka'ja'rand was filled with a swell of joy when the female turned the wounded ship toward the planet so close by. He could feel the atmosphere in the cabin lessening and understood her reasoning, however it served a dual purpose and would give him a chance to avenge his brothers and continue his hunt of the Kiande Amedha. She flew the wounded ship past the vessel which had attacked the larger ship. The cruiser's guns continued to track them, yet hit the larger target by accident drilling holes slowly through it's thicker armor until the Oomans piloting it realized their danger and left their prey wounded but still alive. The pirate frigate raced off into space the guns switching their tracking and engaging the escaping threat, forgetting about the dropship as it hit the atmosphere of the planet in it's final flight.
The turbulence was wrong, she could fly, if poorly, but this was not right and she knew it. The damn bird was starting to come apart while she flew. She read the instruments, and alarms came on about cabin pressure and system failures, she had no choice. She pressed the emergency hatch release, the back doors of the dropship exploding outward in a rush. The big alien didn't seem to even feel the change in pressure, much less balk at the explosion. Unhitching her harness she used the ship to slowly drag herself to the unloading controls in the center console. Confirming the air drop she pressed the switch. The conveyor belt started and the APC moved along the track getting ready to be jettisoned for aerial delivery it was then that the ship lurched and she hit the bulkhead and knew no more.
The female made the ship begin to expel it's land vehicle and then the ship banked suddenly, she was thrown off balance hitting the wall and falling unconscious, he rushed to her lifting her before she fell from the gaping maw of the open bay doors and took her inside the land vehicle understanding her intention. He pulled the door shut behind them and lay her on the floor. There was a brief disorientation as the craft banked again and the APC spilled out into the air, it's pallet's parachutes engaging, the eighteen ton machine slowly floating down toward the surface of the planet and an uncertain fate for it's two occupants.

Thanks for reading this far. Third chapter coming soon!
I'm also busy editing all of my chapters thus far, cleaning up the wording in some areas and reformatting it to match the new site layout as it changed since I originally posted these. 04/14/11
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A different type of warrior