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A New Alliance	By : Kehlan Category: M through R > Predator Views: 2899 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator movie series, nor do I own Star Trek, nor any of the characters from either of them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Show the Klingon female his trophies? Rakai’in stopped dead at the question. Did she have any idea what she was asking? The Predator huffed discreetly, testing the air for the presence of pheromones that might explain the request, but he detected only curiosity and the scent of physical exertion. There were no signs of sexual arousal or mating musk. Even so, he needed to be very careful. Where a female was concerned, misunderstandings could be dangerous. “I…”
“Have I said something wrong?” Khetara asked, aware of the sudden change in his demeanour and unsure what had caused it. “I meant no offence by the request. I wish only to learn more about your people and your culture and traditions.”
The Predator hesitated, for once feeling very unsure of himself. This was not a conversation he had envisioned having with the alien female. “I am going to assume,” he said cautiously, all too aware that he was moving into very delicate territory, “That you have no interest in mating with me.”
“Mating?” To the Klingon woman, ignorant of Yautja traditions and rituals, his statement seemed completely out of left field. Khetara spluttered in a combination of horrified disbelief and very inappropriate amusement. In her own culture, a fight between a man and a woman often led to a battle of a different kind. A female needed to be sure the male was the best possible choice. If he was not strong enough to subdue her then he was not worthy to father her young. If the Klingons were a warrior culture, she realised, the Yautja were even more so. It was very likely that they had similar traditions. Even so, she thought, frantically reviewing their fight and subsequent conversation, surely she had said or done nothing that would give him the idea she had any interest in him as a sexual partner. “No!” she said, shaking her head vigorously, “Of course not! Why do you ask such a thing?”
“In my culture,” he explained in some embarrassment. “An interested female will ask to see a male’s trophies before deciding if he is worthy to breed with her.”
“Oh!” It was Khetara’s turn to be embarrassed and she flushed, her cheeks turning scarlet as the blood rushed to the surface in recognition of her unintentional faux pas. Unbidden yet not completely unwelcome, the image of another Yautja warrior slipped into Khetara’s mind; tall and powerfully built, with rock hard muscles. Older than Rakai’in, faint traces of grey were just beginning to show in his ornately decorated tresses and despite his impulsiveness and quick temper there was an air of authority about him that demanded respect and obedience from his subordinates. She was only alive today because he had risked himself to save her. Khetara shook herself mentally. Kihr’yende might have saved her life but that did not mean she wanted to mate with him.
The rise in her body temperature was clearly visible to the Predator and he flared his mandibles slightly in barely concealed amusement. “Come then,” he grunted, much more relaxed now that any potential awkwardness had been avoided. “I will show you my trophies.”
*****
N'Sal groaned as the lights pierced through her eyelids, stabbing like knives into the back of her skull. She rolled over in the narrow bunk and pulled the pillow over her head in an attempt to dim the brightness. It did not help.
T'lia had finally judged her fit to leave sickbay albeit with strict instructions to rest. Unfortunately for N'Sal, the cabin Krang had assigned her on Night Dagger belonged to his two teenaged daughters. The décor was suitably youthful with bright colours and pictures of the latest popular holo-vid stars. To N'Sal it was garish and gaudy and enough in itself to cause a headache. She scowled and, in a fit of bad temper, hurled the pillow at the nearest grinning face that infuriated her. That.... that Predator.... had struck her.... raised his fist against her in an act of unprovoked violence against someone smaller and weaker than he. She shuddered. No, she would not go down that road. She would not be a victim again; she had learned to fight back long ago.
The half Romulan woman sat up on the edge of the bunk and took a deep breath. There was definitely no rest to be had for her here. Yet if she returned to Endeavour, T’lia would doubtless berate her for failing to obey medical advice. The Vulcan healer ruled sickbay with a rod of iron. It was a brave or foolhardy person who did not follow her orders. Right now incurring T’lia’s wrath was beginning to seem the lesser of two evils.
Perhaps, she told herself, there was another cabin she could use... one that had a more peaceful atmosphere. Slowly and carefully she got to her feet and immediately regretted it as the room spun around her. The dizzy spell passed after a few seconds and putting out a hand to steady herself against the bulkhead she made her way into the narrow passageway.
On the exterior at least, the ship was a bird of prey, albeit a very small one. Night Dagger was what an optimistic sales rep might describe as ‘compact and bijou’ – in other words it was tiny, its main body just a little bigger than a Federation runabout. Nevertheless, it was perfectly suited for its purpose. Sleek, fast and manoeuvrable, the vessel was a joy to pilot. Inside, its Klingon origins were not so obvious. In deference to his Terran wife, who had made it very clear to her husband that she had no intention of EVER sleeping on a hard metal slab – and that was a sentiment N’Sal could agree with whole heartedly - Krang had long since had the vessel kitted out with luxuries such as real mattresses, carpets and better lighting.
The bridge was forward of her current location, the small cargo-bay aft. In between were a handful of small sleeping cabins, the largest of which belonged to her Klingon boss. Further down the corridor, just before the cargo bay was a tiny galley and an equally small but thoroughly well-equipped office. N’Sal recognised the systems displayed on the various screens. This was a remote FedKIN post and its computers and surveillance equipment were state of the art. The headache started to fade as she considered the possibilities. From here she could restart the investigation into Jonathon Price with greater resources and far more potential.
A thrill ran through her, all but shaking away the last remnants of the headache as she sat down at the desk. Activating the console and typing in her pass code, N’Sal brought the systems online. She entered the criminal's name into the database and input the search parameters. Jonathan Price was another one who seemed to take pleasure in attacking the defenceless, in striking from the shadows. He had killed too many people that way on this ship.
N’Sal knew that Krang had set an investigation in place several days ago, sending a request for assistance to their counterparts in Starfleet Intelligence. With any luck at least some of the information they needed would be waiting for them. Meanwhile, her Klingon boss had taken some time off from his duties to go hunting with the Predators. No doubt, she thought sourly, he was down there on the planet having a glorious time while she got on with the work.
The computer bleeped and N'Sal frowned. As data scrolled down the screen she picked out a few words here and there: Weyland Yutani, Admiral Moore... Her fingers moved of their own accord to the combadge pinned to her uniform. “N'Sal to Lieutenant Commander Rhiana... I've found something.”
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A New Alliance