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The Fighting Irish: Catalyst and the Dtai'kai'rish	By : girlyhero Category: M through R > Predator Views: 4378 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own nor profit from Predator, Alien Vs. Predator, Alien franchises.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Ahem, if you guys notice any grammatical stuff, feel free to tell me. Also, it's been awhile since I've written a good sex scene, so feel free to critique me for that too. Be aware that the M/M is Xeno/Xeno-- a friend of mine flipped her shit when she read it XD
Bother me on the Forums about it so we don't clog up the archives. K K!

Present Day...

The University in Hampton, Virginia held a similar aesthetic as that in Wyoming, but it never felt the same to Jesse Danes. Then, again, nothing did.

Five years ago, she had been taken from Wyoming in a flash of light and dropped in the middle of Hell, where in the end The Devil became her friend. In the end, he turned out to be her only friend in all the Universe. She returned to the only other place she knew, Virginia Beach. It didn't take long for the government to start crawling about in search of answers. If Jesse was going to have any life, she was going to have to make herself known. She didn't have the underground sources to fall off the radar, nor the money to buy herself a new alias. Even then, with war and fear rampaging the world, hiding would make her more of a target. She hadn't expected that she was still registered as alive; then again, no one was alive to tell them otherwise.

She spent a month in a facility located who knows where, being questioned and examined. The good news was they knew little about her except what was already in a database. Her DNA and fingerprints were already on file because she was in a bar fight where someone was killed, and they needed to rule her out as suspect, so it was easier than she thought to verify who she was. As for where she'd been for a year, that was another thing. She claimed amnesia, that she woke up at a bus stop with a duffel in hand for from home and a year missing from her life. She almost made it off scott-free when she realized she had made a stupid mistake.

Upon searching her duffel, they found a single dog-tag belonging to a MIA Army Colonel, Rick Bradon. She could have sworn she hid it along with the gift from her alien friend, Nara. Either way, she made the mistake of showing shock at the sound of the name. So she did what she could and told half truths-- she remembered an older man who put a dog-tag around her neck. Still, they prodded and poked her for information. Stuck in a hole with nothing but loyalty to Nara to drive her, she remained stoic to them. She'd seen the movies anyway; if she talked about being abducted by aliens, she'd either be labeled a deranged lunatic or disappear never to be seen again.

Jesse was told that the higher officials wanted her released, saying she was deemed not a threat. She wasn't an idiot-- it's easier to get information from someone when they believe you're not breathing down their neck. She called their bluff with her own poker-face. For almost four months she lived in a hotel that she worked in as housekeeping supervisor. One day, a bank statement came in the mail stating she received all her previous money back from when she was in Wyoming, a supplement for grievance as a survivor of the disaster in the west, and a "grant" to continue her studies.

It wasn't so much they believed she would do something illegal with the money like flee the country that pissed her off. It was that they thought she was stupid enough to that did it. As payback, she not only applied for a new visa, but she informed all the government agencies that she was going to study in Dublin and agreed to check in with the embassy every three weeks.

The University of Dublin felt like the best place to pick up her education and attempt to find some social or family connection. Her parents were native born and fled to the States for reasons unknown. The only thing she knew about her parents' past was that they'd grown up together in a small farming village and they'd "tell her when she was older." They died in a car accident before she got to that benchmark, seven weeks shy of her seventeenth birthday, emancipateable nonetheless. With the only six photos she owned (they'd been in her wallet in her pants pocket while on the hunting planet), she set off to the Republic of Ireland. She finished her Masters for biology and botany, then picked up studies for teaching. On her weekends and holidays, she traveled from village to village, invading local pubs and post offices to ask the older inhabitants if they'd known any Danes or recognized the faces. No one knew who the hell they were and scoffed at her belief that a "Danes" could be Irish-bred and told to check up north with the "Limeys." It wasn't until she stumbled into a pub on a rainy day in the tiny town of Bohola asking the bartender if their happened to ever be any Danes residing there. With a shake of his head, she began to leave when an older man whistled and waved her over. When he said their names, she almost fainted in relief, but then bad news ruined it for her.

Her parents were active in the IRA. When their families had been imprisoned, and her mother found to be pregnant, they bought new identities and fled to America. The man said he was an old friend of her grandfather's and regrettably informed her that she had no family he knew of left in Ireland, and to expose her lineage would only bring her scrutiny, as her parents were viewed as deserters. Something strange he told her while asking about her sibling, whether she had a brother or sister. She informed him she didn't have any siblings, and he said he could have sworn her mother was pregnant with twins when they left. Then again, anything could have happened to the other considering their lifestyle. With thanks for putting an end to the mystery--and yet raising more questions, she called the embassy and informed them she was dropping her classes and heading back to the States.

She had only one place to return to, Virginia Beach. Again, the beach house had been untouched. It was Jett's house, and Jett had yet to be reported dead. Jesse decided she'd keep her alive as long as she could get away with it too-- she filed taxes for her and even dyed her hair black for a DMV photo. She, in turn, made a new identity in case she ever found herself in a pickle with the government again. Jett was made of money. Somehow, she had money stashed in accounts around the globe and cash hidden in safes and bank safe-deposit boxes. Unfortunately, half the safe-deposit boxes were gone, nothing but ash in Wyoming, but the ones in Virginia were still there. She remembered the day she took them out: Jett brought Jesse with her, giving her a power-of-attorney, and said that if anything should happen to her, whatever was in the boxes was hers, not having anyone else she cared enough for to give it to. It was strange, but Jesse was thankful in the end.

Jett's summer house became an actual home, but Jesse had to keep a low profile. She found a studio apartment not five minutes from the house and rented it. The only things in it were clothes that didn't fit right and a small bed. She would park in the apartment lot and walk through the woods to get to Jett's house. On days, she thought she was being followed, she would actually stay in the apartment, and for an few months that had been the case. When she got the job as a General Biology Professor at the University of Hampton, the government backed off of her.

Eventually, life got quiet.

And it still was, though she held Nara's communication device in her hands. Technically, no one would ever think that was what it was. She had fashioned and hollowed the casing of an over-the-counter pregnancy test to hold the little pen-sized device. She wondered what Nara would think if he knew how she was hiding it, and it would always make her smile. Some days, when she had nothing else to think about, she fancied he loved her in some manner. She also fancied that she should have bucked up and stayed with him. At least, the only rumors about Jesse around campus were about how she must be trying to have a baby as she's always seen with a pregnancy test in her pocketbook; much better than "Jesse keeps an alien communicator in her purse," a real attention getter for the government. All she needed to complicate her life were Spooks following her in black sedans with their giant black sunglasses and earwigs. She'd gotten good at spotting them over the years, even the ones without earwigs.

Now, with her quiet yet complicated life, she sat in her car in the campus staff parking lot, finishing her coffee and contemplating over if Naranarti actually remembered her or not, rather than grading her C-students' labwork.
*****

A planet not too far from Earth...

The rocky and orange terrain brightened with the sunrise. The canyon glowed like a flame as the sand twinkled in the light. As the shadow cast by the canyon-side disappeared, the valley came to life. Naked trees rattled like the bony fingers of the undead. Bat-like, reptilian birds spread their wings and took to the air from these trees. The wind lifted warmth under them to wake them further. Their destination, water. They would know it by the specific glimmer it gave off in the morning.

As the shadow pulled away, the birds saw the shine of what they believed was water. The flock dove only to notice short of slamming their heads into solid masses, that it was not water they were seeing. They flew in circles. The material protruded like spikes with bent and burnt sheets of it coiled about. The birds perched themselves on the scraps, confused as to what had happened to their water.

Fact was they had never reached the water. The nearest body of water was outside the canyon, and the birds had not went half the distance needed. What had taken their attention was the glimmer of xerbidium metal, the ruins of a Yautja ship. It had been there long enough for sand to shift and bury the landings. For the days it was there, it had been cloaked, but as of the night before, it had come to the ruin it is currently.

The shadows shifted again and revealed two standing figures before the ruins. Two Yautja stared up in silence at their only way home, broken, unsalvagable. One of them had long, thin, black dreadlocks. He wore a long coat of a black leather, the spinal exoskeleton of a Kainde Amedha running down the back in the same manner of nature. His biohelmet had the severed hands of the the same being welded to the sides, claws coiling around the brow, under the eyes, and over the mouth guard. The coat was sleeveless and revealed the Yautja's pale skin painted with turquoise-blue stripes by his rare genes. Next to him, the other Yautja was a yellowed-tan mottled with deep brown spots, his arms and back riddled with claw marks of fights for his sport. His dreadlocks were brown and twisted into spirals of each other, linked by bone beads at their ends. He wore full Elite hunting gear. His helmet was polished with a strand of bone, metal and glass beads hanging like a faux-dread near where the connectors for his plasma castor plugged to.

The striped Yautja turned his head to look at the other. "Yekita," he addressed him with a sharp voice. "I fucking hate you." He turned about-face and walked away to find the water the birds had been searching for.

The other Yautja, Yekita, yelled back to him. "Would it make a difference if I said I was sorry?" A rock flew through the air and slammed into his back, square between the shoulder-blades, with an audible thwack. "OWW!!"
*****

Somewhere in space...

Naranarti tripped Mhrende with the combistaff. The Warrior slammed face-first into the mat of the combat arena. From the yelp, it was needless to say it mildly hurt. Off to the side, five unblooded hunters, R'kaan, Rautade, Yeyin, Si'myt'de and Unada, stood and watched, chittering and trilling at the display. It was an average sized training room, as Naranarti's classes were ranging from five to ten students, a good number set. Mhrende was nearly on his way to becoming an Elite. His last test would be the death of a Kainde Amedha Queen. Naranarti believed he was ready for it; Mhrende would bring home the bitch's crown for his wall, though he allowed Naranarti to beat on him in front of his students. Other's disagreed, and Naranarti appeased them by expanding the training, stalling for the time being.

Over several short seasons since that fateful Kv'var, their relationship headed to a strange direction Naranarti had to admit he did not expect. Working with Mhrende on a constant basis, him as the only being Naranarti would even let near him for days on end at times, allowed his perspective of the short Warrior to shift.

Mhrende was a hermaphrodite, though no one could ever tell even if he wandered about stark naked. The only way one knew was during mating season when Mhrende's pheromones fluctuate towards the estrogen side. Occasionally, his hormones would start on their own out of season and irritate the ship's occupants. Naranarti began to understand why some of the males had abused him prior to his enstatement as a Warrior. Only other Warriors like Venyude and Elites like Yekita could bust him in the face at random; it was their reminder to themselves that Mhrende was male. Though it was well known that Mhrende was homosexual-- Jeh'd'te-- the other Warriors and Elites still had honors to hold and did their best to avoid Mhrende's involuntary lure. However, an Arbitrator Elite, honored highest in his Clan and blessed by Paya with fifteen daughters, had the apathy and say-so to do whatever the hell he wanted. Still, it had been awkward when Naranarti lost his senses for the first time and slammed Mhrende into the wall of his ship while on a reconnaissance mission. Apparently, Mhrende was ecstatic about the scenario, and this eased Naranarti, who feared he'd nearly raped him, the lines of "selfishness" so blurry in that aspect.

"That's how you trip someone properly," Naranarti announced to his students. "If you didn't hurt them, then you didn't do it right. Now, again!" He and Mhrende, after picking himself up, left the arena as Unada and R'kaan took their places with staves. They watched not the fighting set but the others. Mhrende had entered the room first and witnessed a confrontation between Rautade and Yeyin. From the snarls and hisses, it was on the verge of recommencing as Mhrende predicted earlier.

"They're going to start again," Mhrende whispered.

"They can't possibly be stupid enough during a class," Naranarti replied giving his eyes a good roll. Inside, though, he knew damn well they were indeed the idiots Mhrende thought them to be.

The main door opened, and Nanaiyude entered, getting not just the instructors' attentions but every students' as well.

Nanaiyude was a towering Yautja, just a talon shy of their Matron's height. The scars on his chest and arms were near uncountable from the hunts and battles with various beings. His smokey dreadlocks were pulled back in a single tie, and he wore a simple wrap. Nanaiyude was known for wondering about and observing his son's classes. It never made Naranarti nervous, surprisingly to the others on the ship. Nanaiyude made everyone weary and cautious. Today, he was not there to watch. Nanaiyude looked at the Arbitrator then nodded to the door.

Naranarti raised his brow. He looked down at Mhrende who'd resumed watching Rautade and Yeyin. He sighed with a smirk; Mhrende could handle them. Naranarti motioned for the fighters to continue and headed towards the door followed by his father. "I'm assuming you wish to speak with me," he said.

Nanaiyude hit the control for the door to close it. "About a few things," he admitted. "The Matron has been inquiring further as to what work you've been taking outside of the Clan. There is only so much I can cover when I know nothing of the truth, Naranarti."

"If I wished anyone to know, then I would have told them," he replied.

"But you don't trust me? Well, that's new," Nanaiyude said. He couldn't help but smile.

"Plausible deniability, otherwise you'd have been the first to know. As for my mother," Naranarti pulled in his mandibles in irritation. "It doesn't endanger the Clan, thus it doesn't concern her. She needs to let it go."

"No danger, and yet, I'm supposed to worry about plausible deniability?" Nanaiyude narrowed his gaze, the permanent glare twitching by the stressed brow. "Who exactly does know about whatever it is you've been doing?"

Naranarti glanced to the side. "...The usual suspects..."

"Of course!" Nanaiyude smacked his forehead and growled. "Because trouble does not exist without those three idiots somewhere in the equation! It's like the beginning of a bad joke. An Arbitrator, an Elite, a Surgeon and a hermaphrodite walk into a bar---"

"It had nothing to do with them," Naranarti shook his head and defended his friends and students. "As for endangering the Clan, the only way that would happen is if S'esutuhn found out. She'd flip her shit like she did in the war!"

Nanaiyude considered it then sighed. "I could see that happening. With too much ease.... Who is involved? Denying it or not is of little concern. You know well I can lie without lying, but it's much easier to dance around the truth when I know what it is."

Naranarti looked about. The halls were clear of wondering Yautja. Students were in their classes, Warriors were in the mess hall drinking and fighting, and the females had parliament to attend with. They were alone, but you were never truly alone in the halls. He'd not say the name, but he didn't need to either. "You know him. He's not a traitor or a bad-blood, but everyone thinks he is," he gave the first hint. He could see his father thinking, the gears turning as he sifted through his memory for faces and names. "You dislike him. S'esutunh hates him. The Elite Yekita is best friends with him. He killed hundreds of Hish in the war in one foul mess of flames." He saw Nanaiyude's eyes widen. "And he's the only albino Meta-Yautja you know---"

"Are you fucking kidding me!!?" Nanaiyude screamed, startling Naranarti to slam his back against the wall. "Pauk!! Really? Really, Naranarti!? Dear gods!! Why didn't you ask-- I could have stabbed you in the back much faster that he will!?"

"Father," he hissed. It was not often he directly addressed him as such. "Keep you voice down. Damn it."

"What is it you need so badly from him?"

"I didn't need anything; he sent for me. He's gotten himself into a mild mess. He is concerned of his rights and is afraid Arbitrators of his own people are corrupt, possibly on the side of his enemies who are bad-bloods. He was once apart of the Luxa Clan who I had jurisdiction of, thus he's entitled to proper defense-- Meta or not."

"You are too good of a being," Nanaiyude said evenly.

"So you understand?"

He sighed and looked about for a excuse not to answer. "Yes," he admitted in defeat. "I do." He changed the subject. "About Yekita, though. The reconnaissance mission he and Denarde ventured off to is done."

"Good," Naranarti said, a spike of cheer in his voice. "I have students with broken bones and pride for Denarde to fix--well, not the pride. He'll have his offices full when he returns-- when will they?"

"That's the issue..." Nanaiyude inhaled deeply and trilled low. "Their ship has been destroyed. They are well, but their ship has been destroyed."

"How?!" Naranarti threw his arms to his side, not in a hostile manner, but in a confused and overcome way.

Nanaiyude laughed harder, "I don't know, but I assumed it was to do with you giving charge of a ship to Yekita. When will you learn, son?" He started into hysterics. "Guess, you won't be getting bored-- I'm sure Yekita has left a whole mess for you to clean up!"

"So I assume I'm being charged with getting their stupid asses?"

"You assume correct," Nanaiyude said, "However, you are allowed to wait until the mating season passes."

"Fuck it-- I'll go get them," he shrugged it off. "What's another one I miss?"

Nanaiyude stared at him in concern. "You haven't been right for awhile." Naranarti glared at him, and he clarified. "I don't mean about Mhrende-- at least, he's near female...ish. I mean, you haven't been right since you abandoned the little Ooman female on her planet."

Naranarti was taken aback. He hadn't talked about Jess'si'deinz for a very long time. He thought of her often but never spoke of her. In fact, he attempted to avoid thoughts about her as much as possible. "It has nothing to do with her..."

"Rjet c'jit!" Nanaiyude hissed. "I don't understand why you left her there-- even S'esutunh wouldn't have cared--"

"She wanted to stay," Naranarti argued. "She had her reasons! Oomans need other oomans to survive!"

"Again, rjet c'jit! Oomans don't need other oomans to survive-- they just need companionship. They can get that from non-sentient pets! She'd have been just fine here."

The hallway grew silent. A light murmur was audible from the classrooms, and a humming of air ducts was annoyingly noticeable. Naranarti glared off to the side, staring at nothing in particular. His mandibles again pulled in tight, teeth grinding, he restrained a whine from his throat.

Nanaiyude could smell the hollow, bitter sorrow in his musk. He knew now which one of them had given the false reason. "Forgive me, I shouldn't speak so freely to an Arbitrator."

"If I didn't want you to speak freely I would have broken your mandibles long ago," Naranarti said. "...if I could reach them, you giant son-of-a-bitch." He trilled an awkward laugh.

Nanaiyude shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Well, ready your ship to pick up Denarde and Yeki--"

A loud commotion from the classroom interrupted him, snarls and growls indicating the fight between Yeyin and Rautade had restarted.

"Or maybe you should deal with that first? I'm sure Mhrende needs your help."

"You have too little of faith in him."

"He's so small..." A loud yelp from within startled them both.

"So was I when I kicked your ass," Naranarti said. "I need him anyway for this journey."

"Missing a mating season, I'm sure you do."

"Shut your face." He opened the door in time to see Yeyin crash into a narrow stack of crates filled with training armor. A gauntlet slid across the floor and stopped at Naranarti's feet. Looking up, they saw Mhrende in the air nearly parallel to the floor bracing his feet against Rautade's back and pulling the student's arms backward. Rautade cried out then collapsed on his chest, Mhrende still standing on him. Mhrende released his arms, and they fell to the floor loosely.

"Are you two done!?" Mhrende growled. "Good!" He paused and looked up at Naranarti. "I told you they would fight again."
*****

Naranarti's ship came to orbit the orange planet, systems scanning to locate the two Yautja surveyors and the ship they had wrecked. It found the indigenous sentient settlements along the largest continent, the last register from Denarde and Yekita put them in that general area. Where their ship had been grounded, the registry had trouble deciphering. As programmed, it scanned the surface of its elements wanting only one: xerbidium.

Mhrende was sitting in the pilot's chair musing to himself, having little else to do while Naranarti slept and the computer worked on its own. Again, they were missing a mating season. Not that he cared much for females besides the fact they could bare him pups to increase his honors, it was that in all the heat and mess, Naranarti was at his peek of aggression, and that was how Mhrende liked him. It was that side of Naranarti that got Mhrende chased after, bitten, slammed into surfaces, and utterly fucked unconscious. And, though he enjoyed the basic mating between them, he desired greatly the intensity and adrenaline rush their aggressive love-play brought.

Female Yautja could generate their own libidos into activity whether by themselves with private want or collectively with the ebb and flow of synced cycles, whereas normal males were solely reactive to the pheromones females produced. Mhrende, however, was not a normal male. A single ovary was floating about inside him near his loins and an estrogen-filled organ attached to his main glands produced pheromones as his own unstable hormones shifted. A single thought could set them off, and his current ones did on an extreme level. Occasionally, like during mating season, his own male hormones would react to the female pheromones setting off uneasy needs for a mate of any sex or sort. Musing over he and Naranarti set a pace for his desires.

Mischief crept over him. He slinked out of the chair and ran down the hallway. His steps were light, though they need not have been on his way there. Naranarti's Captain's quarters were around the corner and closed, but Mhrende had been granted free access unless otherwise asked. He slid his hand over the lock, and the door slid open with a soft hiss. The bed chamber was large and sectioned off for sleeping and living. Off the back wall, the large bed jutted forward, Naranarti tangled in sheets. He maneuvered around the furnishings and crouched at the edge of the bed. He could smell the sweat over Naranarti's skin and an agitated musk. Naranarti was twisting about and breathing deeply. Mhrende didn't know what he was dreaming about, but he knew what his dreams would turn into if he kept inhaling the mating musk Mhrende was baring.

A soft purr emitted from Naranarti suddenly, urging Mhrende forward. He went to reach for Nararnarti, but he found himself swiftly pulled onto the bed. Naranarti had grabbed him by the shoulders and flipped him over to the other side of the bed, a leg flung over to pin him down. Naranarti leaned over him and sunk his face in Mhrende's neck. "You know better than to come in here smelling like that," he said tracing the flat side of his tusk over Mhrende's skin.

A shiver made Mhrende quake under Naranarti. "I have my intentions," he replied. He leaned up and nipped Naranarti in the shoulder playfully. Unlike mating between a male and female, the initiations were purely verbal; males were socially trained to wait for a female to slam a hand on the chest, a motion called Chi'r'ka, Touch of Fire-- two males made for an awkward and unrewarding moment if they waited for the traditional mating ritual. "I want you to mate me like a pauk'de lou'dte kalei."

Naranarti pulled Mhrende up in a sitting position and traced his talons over the wrap tied at Mhrende's waist. He would have ripped it off him in a fit of passion, but his drowsiness gave him the moment to think Mhrende might not have brought other clothing. He was already naked only having to kick away the sheet twisted around his thighs. He unwrapped the belting of the cloth and starting tugging it away from Mhrende, his neck and shoulders being bitten all the while. Mhrende twisted and reached out to a side table. Under a console that controlled the living conditions for the room, a drawer slid open by a spring when pressed inward properly. From the drawer, Mhrende pulled out a vial of lubricating oil. Naranarti laid over Mhrende, pinning him once more, and took the vial from his claws.

Mhrende could feel Naranarti's cock pressing against the top of his buttocks and started to purr. For such a small male who chirped and squeaked as much as he did, Mhrende's purring was deep and heavy with desire, shaking Naranarti's chest through his back. Naranarti leaned up and soaked his cock with the oil. He tossed the vial to the end of the bed and grabbed Mhrende's hips, giving them a violent pull to meet his pelvis. Mhrende yelped, but the sound dragged out like a moan. Naranarti pressed the head into Mhrende making him continue the moan into a different octave. The muscles tightened around Naranarti queing him. He slid out slowly, then thrust forward into him. Mhrende yelped with pleasure and pushed his body back towards Naranarti, digging his talons into the sheets as Naranarti's pressed deep in his hips.

More thrusts and Naranarti made a pace for their mating. The harder he pressed, the louder Mhrende became with his hissing and purring, but not a single sound was in protest. Naranarti choked and hissed, a silent love-maker, as he came his first of what would be a set of orgasms. Yautja males were designed by evolution to deposit their seed in a female as quickly and as much as possible before the female-- much bigger and stronger than them-- pushed, tossed or even beat them off of her in a fit of her own passion. Naranarti had his ribs broken once. Two males could mate and have sex-play for hours before passing out from exhaustion or minor dehydration. As a kink, Mhrende liked being fucked unconscious, and thus, Naranarti would hold back as best he could.

Mhrende tried to reach for himself to stroke his own cock, but the particular angle Naranarti had molded him into touched pleasure points that hadn't been prodded for some time. He couldn't help but dig his claws into the bed and pull and rip at the sheets. Naranarti leaned forward and took hold of Mhrende's shaft, stroking it for him, seeing his lover in such a conundrum. His hand was still slick from the oil making the feel all the better. He masterbated Mhrende in sync to the thrusts, tightening his lower grip to give the right amount of pull on his cock. Mhrende's mandibles flared as he came, a sting of drowl catching on his neck. The hot liquid poured into Naranarti's hand mingling with the slippery oil, almost never-ending and heated by want.

Naranarti sat back on his haunches and lifted Mhrende with him upright, holding him with a free arm to his height. Mhrende reached behind him and grabbed Naranarti's shoulders to keep himself stable. Naranarti started fucking him harder and faster. Like tag, one would come and then the other, Mhrende's more like one stream that slowed then growed with orgasms. His eyesight was blurring too, his head lolling. Naranarti preferred to stay conscious. He purred gently under Mhrende's ear, two mandibles caressing his neck. He inhaled Mhrende's scent and held it in. A low growl started from his throat. He pressed his thumb with gentle tension over Mhrende's head, come flowing and stopping with the movement as he forced a seal on and off, making him call out involuntary syllables. His pace quickened, and with a final slam, he came heavily inside Mhrende who also gave one last release. Naranarti folded backwards and laid on his legs uncomfortably for a moment, the wincing and half-awake Mhrende over his chest.

Naranarti sighed, then rolled Mhrende off of him and sat up. Mhrende let out a light bark as he fell onto the floor. Naranarti trilled slightly, though he hadn't meant to knock his lover off the bed. "Shut your face," Mhrende said throwing some found-object at him.

Naranarti ignored the object and got up from the bed. Mhrende was pulling the cover-sheet that had been wrapped around Naranarti off the bed to wrap himself into. As he curled up to nap next to the bed, Naranarti grabbed him by the shoulders and stood him up. "No, go clean up," he ordered. "I'll clean up the mess in here. Then you continue finding Denarde and Yekita, while I wash up."

"Then can I sleep?" Mhrende asked heading towards the door. He was mumbling something about Naranarti being a slave-driver and a sadist.

"Yes, then you can sleep."
*****

Back in Virginia...

Nick Langley's apartment was small, but it was intended for him and him alone. Jesse would have felt claustrophobic even in her early years. She was putting her clothes back on as he lit a cigarette. "I'm sorry," she said.

"No big deal," he replied. He chuckled, "Didn't stop me, did it?" He had a wide smile with tall teeth. His face was to match, long and narrow with bed-head brown hair. She thought it was funny he spent thirty minutes a day to make it look like that.

"I know," she said quickly.

He saw her uneasiness. He was an apathetic person by nature, but he wasn't a jerk. "Look," he leveled with her, "If you were my girlfriend or something, I would mind, but this was just a tension break. We're adults-- we wanted to fuck. It didn't have to be you, and it didn't have to be me. So I really could care less who you were thinking about while a nailed you." There was a long pause. "Are you sure you're a cougar?"

Jesse laughed. She had made the joke earlier that evening. "I'm thirty, so I guess to you, I am. Why do you ask?"

Nick shrugged. "You fuck young."

Jesse turned and eyed him curiously. "Compared to...fucking old," she laughed again. He got the pun and laughed, too. "Normally, I get questions like 'had any kids'."

He shrugged again. He knew she was referring to the mild "looseness" she had after he'd penetrated her. "I had fun," he said with a slight smile after a drag from his cigarette. His expression changed. "I once dated a girl who had a muscular disorder that caused her vagina to loosen so bad she peed during sex. She was a real sweet-heart, poor thing. I hope she found somebody who was into that." He looked up at her again. "So don't feel bad-- you tighten up when you come, anyway," his smile became mischievous and leering.

Nick was one of her better students. He was a frat-boy with a liking of science. Apart of the Alpha Gamma Rho, he was trying to change his major from business to the new "Specialized Applied Sciences," basically the Applied Sciences degree with an extra certificate for working in restoration projects in the western US. After Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, and Montana became hospitable again, the government started setting up project groups for repopulating the areas and restoring the states to their proper ecology. There was a great demand for scientists, medical doctors, social workers, and accountants. Though he was bound to science, he was still driven by basic greed-- the program is where the money is. To get into the program, a student needed five recommendations from professors. Nick still had a year to get the two left he needed.

Jesse had issue giving the recommendation because his grades were still sub-par to the program requirements. Biology just wasn't his niche. He'd requested special help from her on occasion. Meeting for coffee between classes turned into small-talk which turned into personal interests and led to the sex they just had. Nick didn't ask for the recommendation in return-- he was just horny.

"Good to know," she replied slipping her feet back into her shoes. She walked over to the hot-plate in the corner. He'd set up a small distiller on it in the manner she normally did. It hadn't been used yet though, she could tell from the lack of smell. "This looks good. Why haven't you started?"

"That's actually one of the main reasons I asked you over," he said pulling on his jeans, the cigarette teetering between his lips. He joined her. "I'm nervous to do it. I'm afraid I'll blow something up or," he grabbed the paper pinned to the wall, directions in her hand-writing, "that I'll 'make a methanol solution-- poisonous'."

Jesse lifted her leg and rested the foot on her opposite knee. Grabbing his cigarette, she put it out on the bottom of her sole. "This is a good way to blow something up. Don't smoke when you're distilling. After your done, open the windows and air-out the room for at least an hour before smoking. You have a wash?"

Nick walked into his bathroom and retrieved a glass bottle. It was filled half-way with a red-brown liquid.

"Molasses wash? Nice, my favorite. Set it down, and I'll show you what to do." She fiddled with the copper tubes and odd kettle he'd chosen. The condenser was a thermos, the choice of "trailer-park" moonshiners, but would do the trick. To her there was no shame in it, but it was not as nice as the set-up she once had in Wyoming. Her haphazard life in Virginia reduced her from a "professional" stainless-steel, moonshine-distiller to a thermos and kettle from BigLots; good for beginners, but seemed degrading for someone of her skill. She made sure his couplers weren't made of lead and started pouring his wash into the kettle, the hot-plate turned on.

They chatted about the assignments from the week before and the final in three days, technically two considering it was near three in the morning. "Not drinking any of this before the final," he said laughing.

"Oh, I hope you would never drink this," she switched one mason jar for another. She held up the jar with liquid already in it. "This is methanol," she tapped the thermometer. "Keep the stuff that boils at one-seventy-three."

"What you called 'heads and tails', I get it," he said. They sat in silence for a moment. He looked at her fiddle with the condenser murmuring to herself as she caught a drop and licked it off her finger, seemingly enjoying herself. He always wondered if he was the only one she ever opened up to-- it felt that way when she talked about herself. She'd disclosed to him that her parents were illegal aliens, and her father was the one who taught her how to moonshine.

She'd told him other things, but they were partial lies. She told him a cover story for what she was doing in Virginia and not Wyoming. She said she came to Virginia to meet a friend for the summer just before the missile attacks. An unknown accident left her comatose for a year in the hospital. It sounded unbelievable, but the truth was worse.

And much more heart-breaking.

"So who was he?" Nick asked suddenly.

Jesse came out of her trance. "Who?" She asked confused thinking she'd missed something.

"Nara."
*****

"Get your stupid ass on the goddamn ship before I peel the spots off you hide!!" Denarde screamed at Yekita as Naranarti opened the bay door. "You fucking Te'dqi Zabin Amedha!" He threw a few more rocks at the back of his head to force him moving.

"Kic'te!!" Naranarti yelled as Yekita sprinted up the ramp and into the hall. "Watch where you're throwing shit!"

"I'm going to kill that son-of-a-whore," Denarde declared as he marched up the ramp. "Pauk'de Kha'bj-te! That's all he is!"

"Damn," Naranarti replied. "Did it go down that bad?" He closed the ramp, and they started towards the cockpit.

"Of course, it did," Denarde huffed. "Yekita was involved, and anytime he's involved around xeno-sentients with female genders, it always goes bad!"

"He try to fuck one?"

"Well, yes! It wouldn't be a normal day for him if he didn't!" They turned a corner to see Mhrende poking fun at Yekita's wounded pride. When he saw them, Yekita took off around another corner and disappeared, Mhrende laughing at him. "He spooks her, and she blows up the goddamn ship. Like I said, a normal fucking day." He grabbed Mhrende's shoulder and gave it a gentle shake as they walked by. Mhrende let out a chirp and a smile in response. When they were out of earshot, he continued. "When are you going to get a real female and stop mating my son?"

'When I get bored of him, I guess," Naranarti replied.

Denarde glared at the Arbitrator, then rolled his eyes as he read the joking expression on his face. "If it weren't for you preoccupying him, he might have sired pups by now." He was older than Naranarti, but much younger than Nanaiyude. It was uncertain the exact age, but he had been a skilled physician when Naranarti was coming in with cuts, scuffs, and bruises as a pup. Now a surgeon and medical officer, it didn't bother his honor to have someone so young outrank him, and they were good friends.

Naranarti defended Mhrende. "I don't think it was for lack of trying, Denarde. You know your son's condition. You should be happy he wasn't declared Eta."

"The Matron may be an idiot, but she has a sense of self-preservation-- Yari'mso will defend her only pup to her dying breath. You know her wrath; I think she could take your mother." They entered the cockpit. Denarde took a side chair and started uploading data from his gauntlet console. "I would have had more information, but again... This will do, though."

"What is all this mess? Are those alleles?" Naranarti leaned over the chair and stared at the holograph. "Did S'esutuhn know you were studying this?"

"Does she ever? Why do you think I like Yari'mso so much? She's been covering for me all these years. We enjoy the trade of favors-- she's become a real entrepreneur of favors."

"What all exactly have you done her?" Naranarti could only think of the one thing.

And that was all he'd done. "Sired her a pup. I don't think there's a favor in the Universe to stand up to that, and I'm taking full advantage-- is that wicked of me?" He looked up at Naranarti as though it had suddenly dawned on him that he could be breaking a few laws, moral and ethical.

Naranarti thought about it. Yari'mso had a disease that caused her body to believe she was pregnant at all times since she came of age. Because of this, she couldn't actually become pregnant. Denarde, who'd been studying medical sciences that were forbidden to males, figured out a way around her defect. Ever since, she wouldn't give him peace during the mating season, but she would give him access to all the studies he desired. Denarde didn't want a collection of skulls, he didn't even want to become an Elite-- and barely made it into Warriorhood-- or a trainer, and he didn't even want to sire more pups than he already had-- though he'd never turn down sex. He just wanted the knowledge. "I don't think so," Naranarti replied. "I mean, it's not as though you're ignoring her needs-- you still try to sire her more pups and keep her happy during the mating season when no one else bothers. I'd say that's almost a favor to both of you."

"She is nice..." Denarde said, his gaze drifting off. He shook himself as the air started to bother his senses. "Hell, Naranarti, you're scent reeks of selfish musk! Did you and Mhrende decide to mate just before you opened the damn door?"

"No!" Naranarti hissed. He let a pause of silence drift by before continuing. "It was just before we landed--" Denarde slapped his hand to his forehead in dismay making Naranarti trill hysterically.
*****
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The Fighting Irish: Catalyst and the Dtai'kai'rish