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A Union of Convenience (Formerly ‘Alone’)	By : Keen Category: M through R > Predator Views: 13009 -:- 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
- 3
- 4
- 5
            Completely
revised and reedited as of 10/02/2008, voice your opinions and criticisms at
will.
-Cam

            Ali’shir looked at his still smoking
ship. The inside, as dishevelled and toppled as it was, looked pristine compared
to the outside, studded with marks, dings and scorched splotches. Fortunately
where the E’rain ship chose to call home was close to
Razza, the best and fastest repair shop and weapons
maker. He’d need the services of both to prepare for A’rah’s
last outstanding debt. Thinking about it brought a lump to his throat.
            If the female had survived, he would
have seen her sooner rather than later. Her last charge was Tilak,
an escaped badblood from none other than his home
clanship, Ge’tan. There was no doubt in his mind if
he saw her again that he would have set aside his pride and begged her
forgiveness. He put unfair blame on her for his mistakes and turned his back on
her for the same reasons, letting her suffer her own trials alone when he
should have been there like she had always been for him. The human was proof of
how desperate she was for a meaningful connection.
            Walking to the ship’s front he set
aside these thoughts and decided to deal with a much simpler emotion than
regret, remorse or guilt: anger. Ali’shir knew this badblood
well. Long ago, he was his teacher and mentor. Tilak
was the warrior who groomed him for eldership and the first who vowed to gut
him alive when he refused the position.
            Ali’shir slid his palm over the
battered ship and froze mid-stride. Despite his preoccupation, he heard a
shifting, cleverly masked by the sounds stirred by the breeze. His hand gripped
the combistick at his belt and he trilled, feeling
adrenaline burst warmly into his veins. His disgraced teacher had come seeking
him first and the promise of a challenge excited him. Skilled and intelligent
prey was so hard to come by but this was a step above that. The movement was
expertly timed and executed even aware of it he could barely track the source.
            He turned wildly; swinging his
weapon up and open and saw a bush shake noisily in response. Whatever it was,
it was surprised that he knew it was there but oddly moved away, not towards
him. He pursued without thinking, ducking and weaving through the greenery until
he found himself at a loss. Switching the vision in his mask, the trail blazed
hot again. A bit of heat illuminated body cut through his dark view of his
mask. He followed, running top speed before it disappeared into thin air.
Turning round in the sparsely wooded area, he could feel the reason why push up
between his toes.
            Mud. Thick, covering mud.
            Waving his hand over a still warm
depression at his feet he found himself pleasantly amused. Something had rolled
itself quickly in the muck before taking off again.
                        “Good play old one,” he
grunted.
            Mud was a great concealer
but there was only one problem with it. It left excellent and very telling foot
prints. A decent description of build, the presence of physical ailments, could
all be deuced from a single impression. As Ali’shir looked at the prints at his
feet, his amusement fizzled. The depression was small, far too small for the yautja he remembered. Rubbing the slick paste in his
fingers, he eased off his mask just enough to smell his hand. His brows knit
angrily as the scent registered.
            He fooled himself into believing the
human picked up the languages on her own, dismissing the idea that A’rah had
taught her but as of this instant, he could afford to be in denial no longer.
A’rah had parted her language and skills with the female and now the human was
loose, running wild in the woods with evasion tactics that rivalled his own.
Was the satisfaction he got from one-upping Del’uan
worth it? Perhaps. He looked into her
last known direction and roared for her to return.
            Isis
only heard the trailing echo of his command. Splashing river water on her face,
she washed the last bit of mud away. She travelled in the water to mask her
scent but reaching the river’s artificial waterfall she was at an end. Tall
pine loomed all around her, crowding the water’s edge. Anxiety threatened to
overwhelm her in that moment, but looking though the thick of the forest, hope
literally glimmered in the horizon. Straining her eyes she could make out
lights of the outpost ahead and bodies. Bodies of all sizes and form, some that
even looked like her own. Only a few yards stood between her and the safety of
the public but it was a risky few yards.
            The open space held no hiding spots.
It was a near smooth terrain only dotted by small ground hugging tufts of
grass. Still, it was the only way. Brushing her wet curls from her eyes she
broke the line of trees and darted across the green plane, starting a dangerous
race in the open. She covered ground surprisingly fast, her body feeling almost
possessed as it hurled heedlessly toward the line of glittering lights. She was
a few feet away when the ground in front of her suddenly shot up. Isis leapt back, nearly falling to her feet. A growl made
her turn her head.
            Ali’shir materialised before her,
his cloaking device crackling with little slivers of blue. She backed away as
he approached but the cannon on his shoulder exploded again, this time coming
dangerously close to her feet. She fell to one knee, holding her singed toes.
                        “When I am calm, I am a
much better shot. I will not miss the next time,” he warned, lowly.
            Looking all around her, Isis
realised he waited until she moved into the dead centre, where there was
absolutely nothing she could dart behind and to take cover. She could not help
but ask, why the hell he went through all the effort. Why did he even care?
                        “If you just turn your
back I could be gone from your life forever. I know you’d like that,” she
reasoned.
            Ali’shir explained that as tempting
as the offer was, he had to answer to a higher calling, even higher than his
own wishes. “That seed in your chest poses a danger, to your people and mine.”
            He explained he could not let her
run free and if she forced him to, if she ran, he’d have no choice but to take
action. Isis had heard that before and knew it to be true but she was hoping he
would bend the rules at least once.
                        “Can’t you just look
away?” she whined. “No one would have to know.”
                        “I would know,” he
sighed, burdened by his promise to A’rah. “…and besides where would you go?
Everyone you know is dead.”
            Isis bit her lip, nipping nervously
as she tried to think of a place. So maybe he had a point there, but she was
starting to get over her fear of being alone. It was a hell of a lot better
than being dead or caught up in another crazy dogfight style attack with him.
But he did have an awfully valid point…
                        “So what will you do
with me?” she asked, daring to consider the option.
            He shrugged, rubbing the back of his
neck, “I don’t know,”
            The moments following their argument
in the engine rooms had given him time to think, but not that far. He spent
countless hours searching through the Arbitrator’s tablet flipping through
documents, trying to understand why and how she fell so far and among the
photos of her captures he found her more personal images, some of her and the
human. One in particular stood out in his mind. Isis smiled comically with her
thumbs up while A’rah, with her arm around the human ground her foot into the
chest of a capture. The female, the charge A’rah had no idea of how to dispose
of, was her friend. A dear friend. So if only to honour A’rah’s
memory, he would protect her now as she once did. The cannon on his shoulder
wound down to resting position.
                        “I don’t know what I
will do but if you come, I will not harm you Isis. I will not let anyone harm
you.”
            She was taken back. Isis didn’t even
think he knew her name let alone how to be civil.
                        “You have my word. What
A’rah held dear, so will I.”
            Ali’shir passed her, walking in the direction
of the town. He gotten very far when he finally noticed she was not following.
He stopped, glancing back to where she stood, biting her lip and nervously
rubbing her hands. The whole moment seemed surreal to Isis. She had made a
choice like this before, almost exactly
like this. And like before, her would be saviour seemed sincere…but doubt
nagged at her. Isis knew first hand how vicious Ali’shir could be. Was his word
really good enough? A’rah gave her word sparingly because to her it was a binding
thing, cementing her decision and dictating her every action to come. It was
big deal with most honourable yautja, but in her
travels with the arbitrator she had seen enough to know for others it meant
nothing.
            Ali’shir watched her dance awkwardly
in place, cursing in her native tongue as she debated with herself. Discreetly,
his hand went to his belt, ready to unsheathe his rusted combistick
when slowly one foot fell in front of the other and she walked toward him, her
growing confidence evident in every step.
            Her gut said to trust in him. If he
knew A’rah well enough to assume her debts and her fallen protector knew him,
the male had to be of some worth. The same instinct had worked for her before
and brought her the closest thing she ever had to a sister. Hopefully it
wouldn’t fail her now.

            They tromped in utter silence
towards the outpost. Passing in the lights of the street, Ali’shir would catch
Isis glancing intermittently at him. It was irritating and dangerous. Her
nervous glances and skittish behaviour was drawing unwanted attention from
passer-by’s. XKel was a peaceful outpost that
welcomed all species and they aimed to keep it that way. If they thought she
was in fear of her life, the local law might get involved.
            He barely looked over his shoulder
as he spoke. “Will you stop that?”
                        “Stop what?” she
frowned.
                        “Looking at me like I’m
going to kill you at any moment. I gave you my word, female.”
            Isis shrugged her shoulders, “Well
you did try to kill me once.”
                        “I won’t discuss that
any further except to say I was in a bad place then.”
                        “Will you ever visit
that place again?” she asked, raising a brow.
            Ali’shir took a deep breath. Not
unless he had more sons with his former mate and she corrupted them with her
elitist thinking too. Turning he asked that Isis simply trust him and treat him
as she once did A’rah. He was surprised to hear her boisterous laughter follow
his idea.
                        “She never tried to kill
me,” she laughed.
                        “Just…behave.” He growled. “The male who lives
here is a good friend and the best weapon maker. Do not make me unwelcome,”
            He turned and bounded up the steps
of a slender stone and wood building. The four windows of the front were
perfectly spaced and centred on a single heavy door atop an iron and stone
staircase. Ali’shir knocked roughly and the latches clicked and clacked loudly
as it opened. The male on the other side greeted them with a sharp toothed
smile. The tiny set of carnation pink eyes that sat in his pale blue face
twinkled.
            The shop keep wasn’t yautja; his features were human-esque
but much neater and finer. Even his ears even came to a sharp point at the tips
and lobes. As he opened the door wider she could see he was a little smaller
than Ali’shir but just as bulky. His tan robe was cut off at the shoulders and
drew her eyes to his flexing arms. Big, muscled flexing arms. His long silken
white hair was braided neatly and sat on his equally toned shoulders.
                        “Long time no see!” he
laughed, clamping his shoulder.
                        “Razza,”
Ali’shir said warmly, returning the greeting.
            Hurried inside the old friends
talked as Isis walked cautiously through the funhouse of horror he called a
home. Weapons, gleaming, bizarrely fashioned metal weapons decorated every flat
surface. They covered the walls like lichen, hung from the ceiling and lined
the dark wood tables that sat flush against the small rooms on either side of
the narrow main hall. Isis poked her head into each one as they followed the
crimson runner to the room at the end of the hall.
                        “So what brings you here,
friend?” Razza asked.
                        “I need weapons and
repair. I have a debt to fulfil.” Ali’shir replied.
            Razza
understood immediately, “We heard of A’rah’s passing
all the way over here. We were truly saddened by her loss.”
            Ali’shir was quick to change the subject.
“Yes, well, I’ve come to the best weapons maker to help me in this endeavour.
Do you still have my weapons?”
The shop keep
shook his head, “I would have saved them if I ever thought this day would come
but they were sold, recently. A young yautja
requested to see my antiques some time ago.”
            Ali’shir was deflated but figured it
was just as well. He looked at the rusted weaponry on his arms, “I ought to
step into this century anyway. Show me what you have.”
            The males looked over the blades and
the weapon maker let him touch and sample. Watching him, Isis found her first
guess about the warrior was dead wrong. He was skilled. Highly so. Even in his haphazard practice, he demonstrated a gift
that was comparable to A’rah’s but a tad less
graceful. More rough and savage. But that could have been because the weapon he
held was not well balanced. Razza handed him another
and watched him swing that one in the same motion before he cast it away
disgustedly. Ali’shir demanded a heavier and broader blade.
                        “What are you hunting?”
the weapon maker asked.
                        “A badblood,”
                        “The rouge Elder from
the Ge’tan ship?”
            Ali’shir nodded, continuing to swing
the weapon. “Then you have heard of him.”
                        “Its hard not to. His bounty
has spiked demand for my services. He has also killed many of my costumers.”
Ali’shir asked for yet another blade but Razza shook
his head. “Perhaps you should re-think this. It’s been so long since you have-”
                        “I am fine.” Ali’shir
growled, staring harshly at him. “Lessons so hard learned are not easily
forgotten.”
            Razza
sighed and bent behind the case, pulling another long bladed weapon from it.
Ali’shir grabbed for it, but Razza held it fast. He
met eyes with the embattled warrior hoping he would understand the conversation
was not as light as his tone. He considered Ali’shir a dear friend and did not
want to add him to the list of growing ‘former’ customers.
            Ali’shir reached over the countertop
and shook the male’s shoulder. He completely understood his apprehension but he
also wanted him to know he had to do this and he would do it with or without
his help. Razza slowly loosened his grip and Ali’shir
took the length of silver with a nod. Twirling it in his hands he realized that
the shop keep had been holding out on him all along. This weapon was a perfect
replica of the one he used to have, well balanced and just right for the job he
had to do.
                        “The design was so
perfect, I never destroyed the mould.” Razza nodded.
            Ali’shir whipped the blade expertly
and slid it into his belt in one motion. He looked up to the shop keep and
nodded deeply, “Thank you.”
                        “I’ll get the rest of
your requests,” Razza said with a smile, disappearing
behind a curtain.
            Ali’shir picked up his other
selections and sat at the table, waiting for him to return. He was cleaning the
blade of the replica when Isis’s curious pacing drew his attention. He followed
her with narrowed eyes. How A’rah did not kill her out of sheer annoyance alone
amazed him.
                        “Sit.” he commanded
pointing to a seat at a long table.
            Isis sucked her teeth and crossed
her arms. “A’rah would never say anything so rude.”
            He rolled his eyes, having heard
this song and dance before. “And she also never tried to kill you, I understand
your disappointment. Sit.”
                        “If you want me to treat
you like A’rah, then you treat me like she would.”
            He tilted his head and pretended to
think a moment, “So you want me to let you braid my hair and paint my nails?”
                        “That sounds like so
much fun! How do you feel about bows?” she squealed giddily. Ali’shir froze and
Isis burst into laughter, he thought she was serious. “Get real,” she scoffed
continuing to pace.
            Ali’shir slowly stood, his fists
clenched and his breathing deepened. He did not like being teased or made the
butt of jokes. “You will obey me human,”
                        “Or what?” she asked,
pivoting in place to face him.
            Ali’shir moved closer, rattling in
his chest just as Razza entered. “I see you have your
hands full with another crazy female,” he chuckled moving between them.
                        “Another?” Isis asked,
amusedly intrigued.
                        “Razza
if you tell her, you and I are no longer friends and I will gut you where you
stand.”
            Razza
rolled his eyes and handed him another package, Ali’shir tore it open, sifting
through the contents while Isis inched closer to the merchant. It took very
little prodding for him to give up the story behind the other female.
            Ali’shir’s
former mate was a very desirable yautja. She was very
beautiful and came from a long line of honoured warriors and elders. “But she
was high maintenance and you know Ali’shir is not,” Razza
chuckled.”She drove him insane, ruined him and threw
him away for his best friend,” he sighed. “His kind don’t talk about love
expressly but they feel it just the same. He was in love with that one and what
she did broke him. I’m surprised A’rah’s death didn’t
send him over the edge.”
            Isis watched Ali’shir pick over the
box of discarded pieces and felt sadness well up for him, but she quickly
stamped on it. “He is an asshole. She probably had her reasons.”
                        “None that ever made
sense to me,” Razza said rapping his hand on the
table.

            Loaded down with his purchases,
Ali’shir rode back with Razza and Isis to the ship. Razza’s men had been hard at work repairing it since they
first spoke and they were about done. The merchant was in the middle of a final
inspection in the helm when the communicator blinked. Ali’shir answered the
call, demanding to know with whom he was speaking.
                        “Ali’shir,” the voice tsked. “What do you call yourself doing?”
            Ali’shir stilled. Even after so many
years, his mentor’s voice struck a certain fear in him but he managed to hide
it from his voice, speaking firmly and with authority. “Elder Tilak, it is not too late for you to surrender. With time
you can return to Council-”
                        “What makes you think I
want to?” Tilak snapped, “You didn’t. Why can’t I
throw it all away too?”
                        “Elder, this is not
about me or my choices,”
                        “Oh but it is about you
now, my ‘arbitrator’.” Tilak hissed. “Since when are you in a position to judge
anyone for wrong doing? Since when are you in a position to judge me?”
            In truth, Ali’shir wondered that
himself but the answer was simple, “Since it fell on my shoulders to.”
                        “You not A’rah and a
poor substitute for her,”
            Ali’shir was growing very tired of hearing that. He slammed
his hand down on the counter top and growled into the receiver, “Elder Tilak, surrender or suffer judgement.”
                        “Is that anger I sense?”
the Elder trilled, excitedly. “It’s about time you showed something other than
weakness. Come find me badblood, if you dare.”
            The communication was cut and static
dragged on in the thunderous silence. Ali’shir ripped out of the seat and was
gone, away from the controls, hefting cargo into the ship with renewed vigour
and speed.
                        “Badblood?”
Isis tilted her head, glancing at Razza. He simply
shrugged.
                        “His female drove him insane,” he sighed.
            Isis rolled her eyes, “Seems like
she wasn’t the only one,” She watched Ali’shir roar in frustration, heaving
another massive crate inside. One after the other, he sent them sailing in free
air to crash inside. “What happened between him and the Elder?”
                        “That you will learn on
your own soon enough,”
                        “That’s what I’m afraid
of,” she mumbled.

            Yellow light streamed like fingers
through the green canopy, lighting a narrow path. Ali’shir raised his head to
the alien sky, watching the two suns move in opposite directions with speed. He
was running out of time, darkness, as he was now, was his enemy.
            He tore off into the trees, running
through the wash of stiff fronds. Frustrated with his defective mask he
abandoned it, leaving him bare of anything more advanced than the combistick he carried. Pausing a moment, he looked left and
right and scented, whipping his head all round. Ali’shir knew there was someone
there. He could feel eyes watching him but under the blasted mask he couldn’t
see them and now with his nose failing him, he couldn’t smell them either. He
didn’t see a reason why that should be until he touched his arm. A flower from
the tree above him fell and brushed him, leaving a flaky kiss of bright red
pollen. He crouched to hold the bud, studying it and then crushing the beauty
in his meaty fist. His former mentor had thrown him yet another challenge. The
flowers, with their innocent and unassuming beauty, thickened the air with
their perfume, smothering every other scent.
            It was making tracking impossible
and despite his anger, Ali’shir was giddy to rise to the challenge. Movement,
shivering from a nearby bush drew his attention. He stalked cautiously towards
it, creeping closer little by little until he heard a snap. Fronds sprung from
hiding and smacked him in his face, stinging his cheeks, igniting his anger.
His eyes trained on the movement again and Ali’shir followed heedlessly,
extending his combistick as he thundered in pursuit.
Fury drove him on, fed the muscles in his thighs that burned as he accelerated,
nearing the sprinting badblood. The Elder ran with a
slight limp, but he was still spry for his old age. Reaching his hand out,
Ali’shir grasped just the ends of Tilak’s dreds before he stumbled.
            Ropes sprung from ground, spraying
brown and crisp fallen leaves into his face. The intricately woven gird of rope
entangled and sent Ali’shir falling face forward to forest floor. Trashing a
moment, he scrambled to stand again and cut his bound legs free, but that in
itself was a trap. With a groan, a massive tree trunk swung from hiding in the
canopy. Ali’shir didn’t even have time to move before it blind-sided him,
driving its sharpened fence of stakes into his belly. Impaled against the
contraption she sailed through the air, swinging on the trap until it slammed
against another tree, tacking him in place. His arms lay feebly around the top
of the trunk, scratching at the post franticly to loose himself, only skewering
himself further.
                        “Youngblood, I am
impressed.” Tilak stepped from hiding. Hopping from
the low lying branch he trilled at the helpless male. “This was my last trap. I
did not think you would last this long. You’ve almost learned to harness that
rage of yours. Almost.”
            Tilak
shared how he had stacked the odds against him. How he chose a battlefield that
by its location alone disallowed the use of electronics where the Nichie flowers were so abundant and such fierce bloom one
couldn’t scent and how the painstakingly constructed a labyrinth of obstacles
were designed to make the Ali’shir he knew fail. Leaning against the trunk,
pressing the spikes deeper he realised this male was not the old Ali’shir.
                        “You need a pure battle
for a pure win,” Tilak began. “No technology.
Instinct and mind working in concert for survival, nothing else.” He pushed again
forcing the stakes deeper and Ali’shir roared, his
body wracked with indescribable suffering. Tilak stopped
pushing and leaned closer seeing the male’s lips move silently. He wanted to
hear his last words, he would be sure to cut them in his chest when he sent the
male’s dead body back to Ge’tan as a warning.
                        “Do not harm her,”
Ali’shir scratched.
                        “Do not harm who?”
            Tilak
looked as his former student raised his hand, pointing a finger over his
shoulder. Turning the elder male saw the human step from behind a tree. Her
eyes were wide, trembling, focused on the debilitated male. Tilak
moved toward her, ready to snatch her from her perch above his trap when the
second grid of ropes popped up on the floor. Falling on his stomach, he looked
over his shoulder with a grin to Ali’shir. The male had let his combistick fall, triggering the second trap tangling him.
                        “Not good enough,” Tilak said, impressed at his doggedness. He sat up slowly
and move the ropes round, carefully untangling himself. “You learn patience in
old age. It is really unfortunate you will not live that long.”
                        “I will live,” he said
confidently.
            Ali’shir looked at Isis who was
already in motion. In a running leap from the wall, she sliced the ropes of the
second grid and crouched in time to have the next trunk sail over her head. Tilak roared as his own trap came down on him, helplessly
pinning his body to a tree as well.
                        “Some honourable male
you are telling him where I was,” she said carefully navigating the grid to Ali’shir’s side.
                        “You were going to let
me die,” he wheezed, admitting he used her as a distraction. “Besides I told
you to stay in the ship.”
                        “I remember you saying
something like that before I was
chained to the hull like a dumb animal.”
                        “I knew you would not
obey.”
                        “But aren’t you glad I
didn’t?” she smiled. Ali’shir hissed in response and her smile only widened, “I’ll
take that as a yes.”
            Isis
followed the ropes that held the trunk in place, cutting them at the base, the
contraption collapsed, peeling Ali’shir off the tree. Free of the heavy weight,
he was able to breathe again, raising the imbedded sticks with each laboured
breath. With a grunt he stood and Isis could plainly see the trio of sharpened
tips still sat in his stomach. He moved to wrench them out but she warned him
not to.
                        “You’ll bleed out,” she
said. Ali’shir looked her in the eyes as he pulled each one free, not
flinching. “Fine, do what you want,” she muttered,
following behind him as he moved. “What do we do about this one?”
            Ali’shir turned to where she
pointed. Tilak was in shock, his eyes blinking as he
shallowly panted, blood gushing from under the trunk with each shuddered
breath.
                        “You can’t just leave
him here to suffer.” Isis said.
            Ali’shir flicked his eyes over the
male once and continued on, “I will come for him once I am repaired,” he said
staggering off into the trees.
            He swayed, clutching a nearby trunk
to hold himself upright. Isis offered an arm for support but he refused,
straightening his pained stride at her notion that he needed her help. They
made it to the ship’s doors before he collapsed, unconscious.
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A Union of Convenience (Formerly ‘Alone’)