A Union of Convenience II | By : Keen Category: M through R > Predator Views: 6268 -:- 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. |
Na’run saw
Ny’ima enter the hall and hailed her over, “Did you
find her?”
The female shook her head. “She is
gone again. I cannot find her anywhere.”
The Elder Liaison bit his fist to
keep from roaring. The Lead Elder’s mate picked one hell of a time to pull
another one of her infamous disappearing acts. Ali’shir met with the Ro’al and things soured almost immediately. On top of
charges of sloppy leadership, the Clan official doubted Ali’shir’s
mate existed at all and accused him of deception. The few that had seen the
female tried to assert Ali’shir’s claim that she
existed, even Su’mar who was still incensed over her
recent dismissal as his lover, but the Ro’al demanded
she, the human, appear before him. He had to see for his own eyes if he was to
return to the Clan Leader and confirm it.
Na’run
grasped a nearby guard by the shoulder and told him to go below. “See if she
has gone to the docks. And send a communication to Elder Heron in Ge’tan. Perhaps she has stowed away with him again.”
The male nodded at the abrupt
command and took off like a shot, parting his way through the surging crowd
that surrounded the fray.
Ka’jal
made his way to the Elder Liaison’s side. “Na’run,
are you sure that is wise? The Lead Elder told us we were not to force her.”
“He said this before he understood
it could mean his death, Elder,” he returned stiffly.
The Ro’al
punched Ali’shir across the maw, spraying blood in an arch onto the floor. He
had been beating the male soundly for a few moments and it seemed he would not
let up until he forced the male’s compliance. Blood pooled at the Lead Elder’s
feet, slithering hurriedly from the deep green marks that criss-crossed his
back, cutting into his navy flesh.
Na’run bit his fist again as the male
who was doing the beating slowly circled his master.
“I am
The Ro’al. The eyes and ears of our
Great Leader where he cannot be. Do you understand how serious it is
that I am called to attend here?”
The muscles in his neck ached but
Ali’shir managed a courteous nod. “I do.”
“So why are you being so
uncompromising?!” he roared. “For the sake of the Clan’s
honour and your own, produce the female!”
The Ro’al
rattled deeply in his chest to see the male shake his head. “I will not force
her.”
“Then I shall force you.”
The Ro’al
strode towards him quickly, unsheathing his sword slung on his narrow hips. It
cut through the air with a hum, the bevelled edge of it falling to rest a
breath away from Ali’shir’s face.
“For your sake, I hope your screams
will coax her from hiding,” he muttered, moving his arm back to strike.
Ali’shir closed his eyes and
inhaled, bracing himself for the hit. Voices cried over the discontented murmur
of the crowd, calling for a stop to the beating. The crowd surged to protect
their Leader but the Ro’al’s guards kept them at bay,
striking those who foolishly set foot in the ring, promising to do worse to
anyone who tried to intervene next.
The racket did not even disturb The Ro’al, who continued to toy with Ali’shir, cutting his
shoulder just so and then with the next blow a little deeper. He slowly worked
every slice to the bone like that but still the male did not make a sound.
The Clan official gave an irritated
growl and struck harder and harder, until his lashes fell on Ali’shir without
care or plan. He beat him without mercy until he himself felt pain, stopping a
moment to rotate his sore arm.
The Ro’al
looked at his feet and snarled angrily at Ali’shir. He was on his knees, his
legs curled under powerful thighs, shaking slightly but still silently awaiting
the next blow.
“Just as obstinate as she is…” he
growled, “and just like that disobedient female you deserve to be killed.” The Ro’al tossed the blade to his guard and extended his wrist
blades. “I will ask you a final time—where is your female? Where is your
mate?!”
Na’run
turned away with a click of anger. Ali’shir shook his head a final time. “Damn
your pride,” he hissed quietly. The Liaison felt Ka’jal
tap him on the shoulder but he kept his face turned away from the fray. “I
cannot watch this.”
Ka’jal
forced him to turn with a rough yank and pointed to the hall’s entrance. Seeing
what the Elder saw, Na’run immediately pushed his way
forward, breaking the line of guards to fall on his knees before the official.
He bowed so deep that his face
touched the floor and said, “She is here, sir!”
The Ro’al
thrashed in his cape as he turned. “Where?!” he snarled.
Isis
crept into the hall quietly, easing around the pillars at its entrance and
hugging close to its walls trying to remain unseen. She did not know why this
many bodies were assembled but whatever it was it felt intense. All of them
crowded and huddled around the centre, shouting and baying. If at all possible
she wanted to make her way quietly to Ali’shir—to talk to him she told herself—but that seemed to be impossible.
Someone grabbed her, a guard by the marking of his cloak, and raised her up in
the air to set her down in front of him. He pushed her through the throng of
bodies with his shoulders and elbows, barking as he progressed, making them
turn back and take notice. Isis’ heart began
to race as they simply parted, leading a wide and empty path to a very angry
looking male.
He was red. The very colour of
danger and he seemed to exude more of the same throughout the entire hall. The angry
male stood with legs apart, his chest expanding and deflating with his ragged
breaths. His arms out at his sides looked longer and fiercer with his golden
wrist cuffs extended.
The body at her back left her,
joining the ones that lined the informal pathway and Isis
fought the urge to creep backward. There were nearly a thousand eyes glittering
back at her, watching her every timid and shaking step in place as she looked
around the crowded hall. She finally settled her sights back on the male with
the golden armour and decided that was where she had to go.
Isis
took a deep breath and righted herself. She straightened her back, holding her
head high as she strode toward him. She figured she could at the least give the
illusion she was calm and did—until the male stepped away. She could not stop
the pained sound from escaping her lips. Ali’shir was on the floor, on his
knees, body bowed and bloodied, drawing ragged breaths in gulps. She nearly ran
to his side but something in her gut made her halt. A room full of suspenseful
eyes made her stop.
The male with the golden amour
nudged at Ali’shir’s face with a blade, turning him
to look in her direction. “You call this one mate?” he asked, speaking in her
human language.
Isis
looked to the crowd. Ny’ima, standing with hands
clasped in prayer, nodded her head so Isis did
the same. “I do.”
She nearly fell to her knees with
relief when the male retracted his blades and walked away but Ali’shir looked
indifferent. He winced slightly as he rose to his feet and she moved to go to
him, but the male in golden amour blocked her path. His yellow eyes bore into
her, his snarl made his golden studded mandibles clatter.
“I was beginning to think you did
not exist,” he hissed. “Where have you been all this time?”
“I-I was in the infirmary.”
Hearing the panic in her voice made
him ease some. He stalked closer, crowding her space, circling her like the
prey she was. “And before then?” he snapped. “Why did you not show yourself? To your ship, to your members who call you Elder Female, to your
mate? Did you not care what would have happened to him if you had not,
human?!”
Isis
bit her lip to keep her silence. Of course she cared! She would have demanded
to be taken here if she knew the consequence it held for Ali’shir. She did not
understand why he had not said something then or now. He simply stood by
silently, like a useless lump, while the male—obviously the Ro’al
that Ny’ima spoke of—grilled her. Isis had no idea
what to say to any of his questions but she was quite sure the truth—that she
had been away for many years in a forbidden quadrant—was not welcome.
Isis
took a long breath and squared her shoulders. “With the entire respect due a
male of your position,” she said as she bowed, “what goes on between he and I
is private.”
The Ro’al
was taken back by her sudden swell of gall. “What makes you think that?” he
snorted.
“I was inclined to believe we had as
much privacy as you enjoy with your mate,” she said motioning to the
resplendently dressed and bejewelled female on the dais. The female was as
gaudy and golden as he was; she had to belong to him. “...unless you care to
allow her to voice her grievances about your shortcomings at the moment?”
The Ro’al’s
face twitched. The surrounding clan members that understood the conversation
chuckled as they translated the meaning to others nearby and amusement rippled
over the crowd. Isis knew it wasn’t the wisest
thing for her to have done or her intent to prod an already pissed off Clan
official but it could not be helped. Maybe showing him what a bitch she could
be would illicit his sympathy for Ali’shir as her mate. Or not...
He moved so quick, Isis
didn’t have time to react. She just froze still as he fisted her hair and
lifted her chin with his wrist blades. Ali’shir fought to get near her but the
guards knocked him down and forcibly held him back.
The Ro’al
pressed into her, his mandibles scratching her cheeks as he spoke. “Do you want
to share in his punishment, human?”
Isis
swallowed carefully, mindful of the blade and her throat. “Only
if I have to.”
“Then answer my question!”
She said nothing and the Ro’al hissed low in his throat. Shaking, Isis
met his eyes in silence. It was all she could do. She was too terrified to
think of a witty remark or quip and the male knew it. The Ro’al
dug the blades into her skin and Isis could
feel blood roll down her neck. She closed her eyes feeling him step that much
closer, pushing them just a fraction deeper. He could have filleted her throat
that instant, pushed through with little force and saw the curved blades come
out the other side.
A tear fell on the arm that held her
hair and the male chuckled. Isis opened her
eyes as it grew into a loud and hearty cackle.
The sound bounced his heavy frame as it left him, jarring the hand under
her chin enough to push the blades a little deeper before he retracted them all
together. He released her neck and Isis
thought she would crumble into a heap on the floor. The Ro’al
motioned to his guards and they released Ali’shir, letting him walk to his
mate.
“It is my judgement that Anuvis will survive under your leadership for now.” He
offered his hands and feet to his assistants to be cleaned of blood. “Ali’shir,
I would suggest teaching your human obedience or you might find yourself the
centre of such unpleasantries in the future. And
female…” he said, turning to Isis, “It is
important for you to understand I may not find it so amusing then.”
Isis
looked away, knowing he did not find it amusing in the slightest now. The Ro’al brushed it off as friendly banter to save face in
front of the crowd but his eyes spoke of his anger. If they were alone he would
have beaten her too for her disrespect, but he would not let the others know
their laughter had bruised his pride.
O’dari, the
Ro’al’s principle aid, hurried to his side. He
objected vehemently to his decision but kept his voice just above a whisper.
“Sir, surely you don’t mean to end your investigation here. There is obvious
discord here; we will only have to return later.”
“By then I will be on Clan Council
and it will be someone else’s concern,” he replied.
The aid began to argue with his
decision again in a hushed respectful tone, but it earned him a hard cuff
nonetheless. The Ro’al’s decision had been made. He
understood O’dari’s anxiety but if some pitting
argument he made the human sulk in his room the entire time he didn’t want to
rehash it. He had enough of this ‘simple life’ and could not wait to get back
to the action and prestige on Go’meh’s mainstay or at
least a more popular ship. And these were things he could not do while Ali’shir
and Isis were an issue, so he’d let them pass this once.
“Once,”
he growled, tapping at Ali’shir’s chest.
The male strode away, satisfied his
job was done, but O’dari remained, holding his
bruising cheek, staring at the pair a long moment
before he backed away and joined the rest of the Ro’al’s
entourage.
As they left, Ny’ima
knelt at her friend’s side and blotted medicine on the wounds of Isis’ neck. They closed easily but to be certain, the
apprentice Healer moved to wrap her throat in bandaging. At that moment Su’mar shoved her out of the way. It was only quick
thinking that Ny’ima pulled the tether from the woman’s
throat before falling away because the Elder Healer surely would have strangled
her with it. Su’mar barrelled her way to the human
and pushed her roughly to the ground.
Isis,
suddenly finding herself on the floor, looked up and shouted, “Will someone
please tell me what the hell is going
on?”
“Had you been here you would know!”
The Healer yelled back, wagging her finger at her. She lorded over Isis like her master as she angrily blasted the human in
her native tongue. “If you had been here, this wouldn’t have happened to him!
Your selfishness has done this to him.”
“You again...” Isis
rolled her eyes and stood. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I—”
“I am Su’mar,
Elder Healer,” the female said proudly, swatting away the hand extended to her
to take her chest. “Everyone knows me, including and especially your mate.”
Su’mar
glanced at Ali’shir who glowered back with kept rage and then to the human. Her
smugness was stamped out by the woman’s laughter. “Yes,” Isis
snorted, “He knows you so well he kicked you out and told you never to come
back.” Su’mar blinked with a stupefied expression and
Isis nodded with a smile. “That’s right. I
speak the language and I heard everything, even when you ran back into your
office crying like a little bi—”
Su’mar
shrieked for silence as she lunged at her, swiping at her face with her claws.
It should have been no surprise to the Elder Healer the female could fight, but
yet still, Su’mar found herself staggered to see with
which ease the female moved. Gliding to duck her strikes,
darting just out of her grasp. Su’mar could
now see it was a mistake on many levels to challenge the female as she did but
her pride kept her from withdrawing. Her pride and the need to see the female,
the creature Ali’shir so easily tossed her aside for, dead. But Isis would not make it easy for her.
Su’mar
roared as the human stepped out of the way yet again and roared as she flipped
the material of the gown she wore—the one that belonged to her and was taken
without her permission by Ny’ima—over her head. Su’mar clawed a hole in the fabric just in time to glimpse
the human’s bare foot hurling through the air for her face. The strike attuned
the Healer’s senses and she rebounded with speed.
Isis
swung her leg in a round house and lost her balance as Su’mar
moved away, catching and pulling her gown in a fist as she did. The female
yanked hard, ripping the fabric at the seams and dragging the woman down the
floor. Isis fell on her back and Su’mar sprang to jump on top of her, her hands and claws
out and grasping. The human was spry. Even on her back she kicked, pummelling
the healer in the stomach each time she tried to approach. Su’mar
grew tired of the game and lunged full force at the female. She let out a roar
of surprise as Isis thrust her feet into her
chest and volleying her up and over her body.
Su’mar
crashed into the wall but quickly recovered. She stood, her claws out and teeth
bared, ready to lunge at the female again, when the surrounding crowd surged
forward filling the space between the two, creating a partition with their
bodies. She fought to get at the female still but the ship’s guards dragged her
away, shutting the doors of the meeting hall with a heavy crunch. In the still
quiet of the empty hall, she watched the group of males and one female swarm
around her.
The female forced her against the
wall with a grunt while the others cuffed her hands and feet. Their leader
stood off to the side looking on quietly. With his wild reddish locks pulled
back in a tight bind, she could stare directly into his pale blue eyes.
“Why not kill me now, A’thes?” Su’mar panted. “I know
what I have done and I know the penalty. Take your sword and do the task.”
A’thes
regarded the female after a moment. He waited until she was securely bound to
approach her. “While it is true attacking the Elder Female has earned you
execution by law, I do not know how to go about that. I await instruction.” He
touched her face, running a black claw down her softly sculpted mandibles and
then tilted her face to his. “It could be fast, a quick slice across the
throat,” he prattled mimicking the action against her skin. “...or I could be
allowed to use a technique of my own devising.” His hands travelled down from
her neck and caressed the swells of her breasts. Su’mar
pressed back against the wall and held her breath. Her bound hands held his
shoulder, giving her leverage to swing her legs back and into his crotch.
A’thes
dropped her and stumbled backward with a muted groan. “That was not at all
smart, female!” He made a motion with his hand and the guards forced her roughly
to her knees. “No matter what my instruction, I will make sure it hurts now.”
“We shall see.”
The male laughed at her
incredulousness. She was a fool if she thought she would walk away from this.
“And what will you do? Ask her to hasten your execution? She will gladly see
you in pain,” he growled the last part.
A’thes
walked away and his subordinates pulled the female to follow. “It could not
hurt,” she said quietly.
Inside the hall, Isis
was pulled outside as well. Ali’shir took the female by her waist and carried
her out, kicking and twisting. She fought him tooth and nail to get back to the
Elder Healer until he raised her off the floor by her arms, bringing her to his
eye level and shook her once.
“Enough, Isis!
Do not take what I did out on her. You were not here!”
“Yes, but she didn’t know that.” Isis
twisted wildly in his arms and he set her down, letting her pace in the hall,
cracking her knuckles. “For all she knew I was supposed to be recovering from
my ‘hunting accident’, not light years away from here.”
Isis
passed the slightly ajar door of the room and watched as everyone milled busily
inside. She fell to rest against a wall, shaking her head woefully as she
realised what she was saying. Despite what she had told The Ro’al,
they weren’t mates, but if they were she would have directed her anger
appropriately toward him. But circumstances being what they were, she could
scarcely afford to blame him because she had done the same, taking Seth as her
lover and fiancé.
However, Isis
seriously doubted Ali’shir would have reacted calmly if the governor knocked
him to the ground and called him a bitch. “It would be the last thing he did,”
she muttered to herself, lightly passing her fingers over the newly cauterized
wounds on her throat.
Ali’shir moved toward the female and
laid a hand on her shoulder, asking her to be reasonable. He encouraged Su’mar so it really was no one’s fault. “There is no one to
be angry with.”
“Except you,” Isis
turned on her heel and shoved at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that asshole was
going to kill you if I didn’t show up?”
“Do not make me explain, Isis.”
Isis
raised her hand and forced it to close into a trembling fist, her fingers
slowly curling into her palm. She could have slapped him. Although what he went
through didn’t seem to faze him, it twisted something painful inside her to
think she could have prevented it, if he had only told her. Why had he not he
told her?
Isis
reached for the flight key around her neck, “Look, you ignorant ass yautja, you better start talking or I swear I wi—”
Ali’shir hands cupped Isis face and brushed his mouth against hers. She held
his shoulders as he kissed her deeper, to keep herself from swooning as much as
to hold him closer. She missed the smell of him, the rough feel of his scarred
back and shoulders, the hardness of his body as he lifted her against his
chest.
Isis
felt her feet leave the floor and her back kiss the cool of the wall. He was
moving between her legs again, his battered and partially bandaged body,
pressing her flush against the surface. His sharpened teeth nipped at her
bottom lip and Isis willingly ignored the
voice that told her to stop. It lectured her on how fucked up the situation was
and how she was setting herself up for heartbreak, but she listened to her body
again. It convinced her nothing that felt so good could be bad and feeling the
bulge in his cloth press against her, she was inclined to believe it.
Her legs closed around him and
Ali’shir moved from her mouth, down her chin to the curve of her neck. Just
holding her eased his troubled mind, so much so that
when Na’run interrupted—as he always seemed to—he
could not even will himself to be angry.
“E-excuse me Lead Elder, Elder
Female, but you have another call from Ge’tan.”
Ali’shir twisted his lips off Isis mouth with a groan. “Na’run,
I cannot believe your incredibly bad
timing.”
Na’run
apologised, as he always seemed to, but continued just the same. He produced a
tablet and rattled off an itinerary to Ali’shir’s
back. The male was still preoccupied with his female, nipping her lips and neck
with his teeth, as she bashfully hid her face in his chest. The hall was
steadily filling with bodies, unwitting voyeurs. Ny’ima
came in behind the Elder Liaison and began to tend to Ali’shir’s
wounds. The job would have been Su’mar’s but everyone
felt it was best her apprentice went in her place. Ka’jal
strode in behind his mate and even more followed in behind him.
Isis
unwound her legs from Ali’shir’s waist and let her
feet touch the floor. He still nipped at her even as she moved behind him to
fix her open top and hiked up skirt.
Ali’shir rumbled deeply as she began
to pull together the edges of the gown, completely covering her chest. “Isis, we
will have to work on curing you of this modesty. It is most annoying,” He
started to follow after her but she smartly moved behind Na’run
who commanded the leader’s attention, pushing a tablet at his chest. Ali’shir
clasped a hand over it and half-listened to the Liaison drone on, watching Isis
as she moved away from him, following her hips as they slung from side to side
in her curious wandering.
For the first time Isis
turned a critical and focused eye on the members of the Anuvis
ship that gathered in the hall. Their faces for the most part were kind and
different. Different like her. There were many species
peppered in between the towering yautja, mostly a set
of curvy foreign females with bright and textured skin. Only a few female yautja had taken foreign partners, but even they looked different.
The yautja of Anuvis were
of various colours and builds, some incredibly thin and lithe like swimmers,
others still tall but thick with muscles like body builders.
They were of the same species but
obviously called different environments home, so their bodies made various
adaptations—like bony growths from their joints to protect them on unstable
grounds, forked tongues to better scent prey in more polluted atmosphere. Some
had larger eyes with sideways situated pupils to see in the dark and dank
without the aid of a faceplate.
As her eyes settled on one giggling
female, her skin a layer of fine pale yellow feathers with eyes green as jade,
Isis wondered why Gi and Heron even bothered to stay
in Ge’tan with all it’s problems. They could be among
other mis-matched couples like themselves, safely
tucked away in a ship where the warriors felt so comfortable many neglected to
carry even so much as a blade at their side. Isis’
wonderings were interrupted by Ali’shir roar.
“I said ‘no’ and that is final!” He
turned his back on Na’run offering his chest for Ny’ima’s attentions and leaving Na’run
to smother his own angry sound.
The Liaison stalked angrily toward Isis as he moved toward the dining hall. “Perhaps you can
convince him it is in his best interest to act like he gives a damn?”
Isis
could only shrug her shoulders. She did not know what it was that the two
fought about or how to push Ali’shir to do anything but what he wanted. We are alike that way. Isis
smiled, thinking on Heron’s parting words. She frowned
when she realised the pilot had by extension called her stubborn and ignorant
as well.
Ny’ima led
Ali’shir into the hall behind the fuming Liaison, wanting him to sit while she
dressed his wounds. Isis bunched up the ends
of her tattered skirt and moved to follow when Ka’jal
came from no where to block her path. He latched onto her arm, the scenting
organ in the centre of his face twitching as he tasted the air around her. His
throaty prattle made the woman pull away immediately.
Fighting changed her scent to
something akin to arousal and Isis was
suddenly aware everyone else knew it. Especially Ka’jal who towered over her. Isis
clasped her hands over her lap. A useless action, but an
instinctual one as well.
“Ka’jal,
let me pass.”
“You cannot go in the dining hall
like this.” He moved toward her and Isis
knocked against a doorway before spinning inside the room. She suddenly noticed
how far away the Healer had taken Ali’shir and how isolated she and Ka’jal were. She moved back and was surprised to fall
against two other Council members, Q’sim and Ra’daei who watched her with the same hooded gaze.
Ka’jal
growled at the pair of males, sending them trotting down the hall and leaving
Isis and he alone in the domed vestibule. His head swung back to her sending
his long black locks swinging over his heavy shoulders.
“I will not make this easy for you
at all,” Isis warned. She reached behind her
for a decorative spear on the wall and spun expertly.
It surprised her how well she
remembered how to use the weapon, just as it surprised Ka’jal
that she thought she had to.
“While I am tempted,” he began,
scanning her body from feet to head. “Ali’shir will have my head if I so much
as neared you with intent.” Ka’jal tapped the kit on
his thigh and brought out a few items. Isis
recognised them as medical instruments and lowered the staff in her hands. “You
are bleeding. I do not know where, but I can smell it, along with your arousal.
You need to tame both before we enter the hall.”
Isis
suddenly felt foolish holding the bladed staff, arming herself against someone
who genuinely sought to help her. Even so, letting the weapon go and trusting
the male was slow going. She propped the staff against the wall and cautiously
moved toward the Elder who set up shop on a nearby table.
Q’sim
tapped quickly at his tablet, looking over the results from his most recent
experiment. He often did this with his colleague whenever there was a spare
moment but Ra’daei’s attentions seemed elsewhere at
the moment. Looking away from the meal being set out in the dining hall and the
gathering assembly, the male craned his neck to look down the hall where the
Elder Diplomat and the Elder Female disappeared. Ra’daei
wanted to see the female, perhaps even catch a glimpse of her sweetly scented
body as Ka’jal had his way with it or join in. The
Elder Diplomat was agreeable to sharing; his own union said as much, and there
was no telling would could happen.
Q’sim
shook his head and returned to his tablet. “Dare I ask what you are thinking?”
“We should go back.” Ra’daei stroked his stomach, the scent of the female still
on his tongue. “The Elder Diplomat may linger too long with her.”
Q’sim
pulled his colleague forward, toward the doors. “If we go back, you will linger too long with her,” he
griped. “I often wonder how you manage to leave your bed at the day’s start.”
“I manage just fine, Q’sim. Besides, the Elder Female should have known better.
She should have let the Lead Elder finish so she would not cause such disruption.”
“Well, it is not her fault.” Q’sim began. “She is limited, as all humans are in the
senses. She would be constitutionally incapable of detecting the difference in
her own scent let alone ours.”
“Q’sim, be
silent.” Ra’daei grabbed his friend by the shoulder
and tried to pull him away, but Q’sim raised his
voice, angered that his friend thought him wrong.
“Although the Elder Female is more
extraordinary than her human counterparts, she is no match for even the
youngest of our pups with regards to her scenting ability, Ra’daei.
Certainly you can agree with that.”
Ra’daei
let out a groan. “Do you think she would like to?”
Looking to where his research
associate nodded, Q’sim was surprised to be met by
the Elder Female. Behind her, Ka’jal,
scowling for some reason. “I do not think I would have to tell her,” Q’sim said matter-of-factly. “They are not unlike us so
much that they are not cognisant beings. I am sure the Elder Female is quite
aware of her limitations.”
“I am,” Isis
took a step forward. “But are you aware of how I compensate for them?”
Q’sim
shook his head and then gasped as a slender and sharp tool fell from her sleeve
and pressed into his belly. The male swallowed thickly as she pressed the thing
deeper against him. “Surprise and speed.” she answered. “It’s all I have
against your kind’s brute strength and enhanced senses.”
“It seems to work well for you,” Q’sim gulped, looking at the blade pinching his skin. He
gasped when she turned her wrist, threatening to break the skin. Even if he had
the idea to strike her, she could tear out his innards with a motion.
Fortunately the male’s greatest friend, Ra’daei,
moved to his aid, appealing to the woman’s cooler-headed senses.
“Forgive him, Elder Female. Q’sim is intellectually gifted, even by our standards. The
vast knowledge in his head leaves very little room for anything else like
tact.”
“Or common sense,” Ka’jal snapped, brushing past. “You should let her teach
him a lesson, Ra’daei. He could stand a reminder that
he is mortal and should watch what he says.”
Isis
looked down and seemed almost surprised to see the instrument she stole from
her recovery room in her hand. She tucked it into the belt that slung round her
hips, twisting it twice to keep it in place while apologising. “Excuse me. I am
just a little on edge,” she said, patting Q’sim’s
stomach. He shuddered out of tension and then gave a relieved sigh that bowed
his long body. “Unfortunately I do understand Elder Q’sim’s
curtness, Ra’daei. More than I would like,” she said,
motioning toward the hall.
Ra’daei
looked inside to Ali’shir and let out an amused grunt. “I am sure. My deepest apologies.”
Ali’shir saw both Isis and Ra’daei glance in his direction and shrugged his heavy
shoulders. “What?”
Ka’jal
shook his head as he took his seat. “They talk about you, Lead Elder,” he
chuckled. “Apparently you are just a step above our favourite Scientist.”
Ali’shir shot an angry glare at Ra’daei and rattled in his throat, but Isis
took his hand then, patting him to ease. As she locked her arm with his,
hugging him closer, he forgot why he was angry to start with—until Q’sim spoke again. The scholar had a realisation of his
own.
He offered a chair to Isis, moving it from the table to help her sit before
trying to smooth over their previous conversation. “Elder Female, Ra’daei has explained that you may have interpreted what I
said before as something of disrespect so I would like a moment to explain
myself so you might see the error in your thinking.”
Isis
reclined in the seat with a chuckle. “Is this how you start out an apology,
Elder?”
Q’sim
thought a moment. “Certainly not, but this is not an apology. This is an
explanation if you remember my previous statement.”
Ra’daei
hid his face in his hand shaking his head as Q’sim
rattled on, digging himself deeper. It always amazed him how a creature could
be so brilliant but so fundamentally ignorant at the same time.
“Before I was blooded,” Q’sim began. “I, as did all young warriors, studied my fair
share of humans, but always and only males. This is because when I was young,
humans had not even the idea for space travel and kept their females close to
their domiciles. They never strayed too far or carried anything that can be
legitimately called a weapon so I never had the opportunity to observe one up
close until now.”
“Is that why you stare, Q’sim?” Ali’shir said, strumming his fingers on the table.
He watched the male offer his mate a
seat and nearly huddle against her in the seat adjacent.
Q’sim was
completely oblivious to the irritation in the male’s tone. “It is,” he nodded,
almost dismissively. “In any event, Elder Female, you caught me commenting on
the differences between the behaviour I anticipated from you based on
documented accounts about human females in general and the actual. Which, by
the way, has been most fascinating,” he said with eagerness, looking over her
features. “Some things are in line with the documented behaviour while others
are completely absent.”
“What do you mean completely
absent?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Q’sim
raised his hands, ready to touch her face, “May I?”
Isis
slowly nodded and Ali’shir growled as the male took her face into his hands. Isis could feel Ali’shir’s body
tense but she kept her hand twined with his, hoping he would not interrupt. She
wanted the scientist to answer her question and the cursory inspect was not
wholly unpleasant.
Q’sim’s
narrow and long hands were surprisingly gentle, touching her as if she would
break while he moved her head left and then right. He turned her face back to
centre and upturned his head, looking up her nostrils before he spoke.
“You do not paint your face,
something the documents tell us to expect, nor have you pierced your lobes.” Q’sim reached for her hands next. “You also do not adorn
your fingertips with colour or let them grow. Do you not shave your legs as
well?”
Q’sim
hands went for her dress; bunching it up at the sides he lifted the hem over
her legs until Isis grabbed his wrists. The
male raised his head, wondering why she stopped his investigation, when he met
eyes with the Lead Elder. Q’sim swallowed thickly and
moved where the female pushed him, back toward his seat and away from the
raggedly breathing male.
“I can tell you about the rest
sometime later,” she said, setting his hands in his lap.
“Yes. Later would be better for
everyone.” Ra’daei pointed at the plate in front of his
friend. “We should concentrate on our meals.”
“Some of us are finding it
impossible,” Ali’shir glared at Q’sim, his hands
crumpling into fists. The male looked at Isis
still, his hand under his chin in purposeful thought. “What is so amusing,
Elder Scholar?”
“That she speaks the language so
well,” he answered. “It is a little accented by virtue of her mouth being
without mandibles, but you speak the language very well, Elder Female.”
Isis
nodded, “I should. I have struggled with it so long I now have trouble
remembering my own mother tongue.” She chuckled remembering the persistent
stutter she developed in New Sussex.
Q’sim’s
brows crinkled then. “Why should that be? It takes humans far longer than our
kind to learn anything and I was under the impression you and the Lead Elder
were a fairly new couple.”
Isis
looked around the table; suddenly there were more than just a few expectant
eyes on her. Ali’shir simply looked away as she spoke, watching Ny’ima wrap his arm in a bandage. Isis
cleared her throat and took a deep breath for courage before she answered.
“Before the Lead Elder,” she began,
“I was under the care of the Arbitrator A’rah.”
Na’run stiffened
at the name, mirroring the sudden uncomfortable ripple that traversed the
entire table. The other members of Council looked away, grumbling under their
breaths at the faux pas but Na’run could not let it
go in silence. He cleared his throat and leaned toward Isis,
his eyes down. “Perhaps in your absence, Elder Female, you have forgotten that
we do not speak the name of the disgraced.”
Isis
turned to look him in the eyes. “I have not,” she said. “Will you be the one to
punish me for it?”
Na’run looked
to the Lead Elder who watched him behind steepled
fingers, his expression implacable. He could have been completely unmoved or
angry beyond words but Na’run could not tell. Slowly
the Elder Liaison sat back in his seat, shaking his head ‘no’ and Isis returned to Q’sim.
“A’rah,” she said, looking daringly at Na’run as she
said the name loudly. “…gave me my introduction to the yautja
language and culture. She taught me how to survive.”
Q’sim’s
surprised expression spread with a realisation. “Then you are the one! The human taken from the ship that was overrun by hard meats
brought by those savages from Ge’tan.”
Whispering swept over the table. It
seemed to grow steadily, growing from silent humming to a rush of intelligible
words. Ali’shir closed his eyes and tried to ignore it but it grated on him.
His name uttered, then that of his sister, Kai, Yashin,
then Enkal.
Isis and Q’sim
jumped as Ali’shir slammed a heavy fist on the table, rattling every glass and
plate. The table fell deathly quiet as he gripped the
arm rests of his seat.
“Yes,” he grit. “That ‘disgrace’ was
my sister,” he said looking at Na’run. “And those
savages you speak of, Q’sim, my sons. Who would like
to make an issue of this?”
He looked at the faces that
surrounded him but they lowered as his eyes found them. Only Q’sim kept his head raised, his hands under his maw still.
As usual, he was oblivious to the danger he found himself in, his analytical
mind working over the newly garnered piece of information. He opened his mouth
and spoke the sentiments of everyone in attendance.
“How odd that you
would choose the Lead Elder as your mate considering the circumstances with his
sons.”
Isis
took her hand from Ali’shir and folded her arms, her shoulders hunched. “I did
know at the time.”
“Even so.
When the Lead Elder revealed the connection I am surprised you still decided to
go through with the ceremony. From what I understand about human interaction, that would appear to be such a betrayal of all the
humans that they killed—Ouch!” Q’sim
turned angrily in his seat as Ra’daei grabbed him so
hard it pierced the skin. Only then did it dawn on the male he may have
rehashed old wounds between the pair ...and possibly earned his execution.
The Lead Elder stared daggers at
him, shredding him with his icy stare, angry no doubt that he upset the Elder
Female, who looked down sullenly at her lap. Slowly Q’sim
turned in his seat, bracing his hands on the table’s edge.
“Perhaps I should explain my
previous statement,” he began.
“Perhaps you should shut the fuck
up,” Ra’daei hissed, knocking his arm again. Q’sim swallowed a yelp and clasped his mandibles closed. He
would have spoke regardless if Ka’jal hadn’t
interjected, purposely saving the male from himself.
From his place at the left of the
Lead Elder, he confessed he was glad he was present for the current discussion.
“It gives me hope with my mates.” Ka’jal stretched
his arm around Ny’ima. “The fact that you two are
still a couple, speaks volumes about the commitment you two share in your
union. It is very rarely seen.”
“Agreed,” Ny’ima
trilled. She winked at Ka’jal, making the male puff
out his chest, but his elation was short lived as she looked at her other mate
as well with the same playful wink. “If they can get over that, we all should
be able to cope with our own issues.”
The rest of the assembled members
murmured in agreement and Isis looked at
Ali’shir and gave a heavy sigh. She felt like an utter fraud, unworthy of the
praise the table lauded them. Things were not what they seemed and the
overwhelming need to tell the truth was there. Even more pressing was the
desire to ask him, just what the hell they called themselves doing at the
moment. Were they mates, or just pretending again until the situation resolved
itself? If another word was directed toward her she would have asked him, but
the conversation drifted elsewhere. Difficulties on the ship, peculiar cases
and trouble with the Clan as a whole dominated the conversation.
Choosing to return to the Elder’s
table when everyone was preoccupied and engaged in conversation, Su’mar, lead by a contingent of guards, approached Isis. At
first, Isis thought the female sought to
finish off what she started and pushed away from the table, ready to battle.
She moved to stand when the female yautja’s hand fell
on her shoulder, easing her in the seat. Su’mar took
a knee beside Isis, crossing her chest with
her arm and then bowing deeply.
The Elder Healer knew humbling
herself so publicly would be the only way to mitigate her sentence. Attacking
the heads of any ship carried the punishment of execution and all the female
could hope for now was a quick death—if the Elder Female was willing to allow
it.
Taking a final look at the male she
loved, Su’mar lowered herself to the ground before his
mate. “I know what I have done. I know the consequences. I have come before you
to not only offer my apologies for the disrespect I have shown you, but to beg
your kindness to make my end quick.”
Isis
quietly ignored Su’mar until she spoke the last part.
She was more than due an apology, but the female’s life? No, this was wrong. Isis turned in her seat and politely asked Q’sim to move down. Su’mar braced
herself for what was to come as the woman reached for her, expecting a strike
or shove, but Isis pulled her gently toward
her, to stand and sit in the chair the Scholar abandoned.
“Come, we need to talk,” Isis helped the female to the chair and urged her to fill
her plate and eat. The conversation, she felt, would go smoother if they were
both full and content.
Su’mar
watched as a plate of piping hot food was placed in front of her and her drink
poured. She confessed her ignorance then not understanding what was happening.
“Is this how your kind kills their enemies? Ploy them with
food and drink and then attack?”
Isis
shook her head, “Not all of us do it that way—but you are not my enemy.”
“Then what am I?”
The woman sat back in her seat and
finished the food in her mouth, deep in thought. “I don’t know...” she shrugged. “But I feel
like we should not hate each other. Especially since I made
mistakes as well. I should not have mocked your pain. I know that Ali’shir’s dismissal hurt you greatly and I made it worse.
There were things I did not know,” she continued, “and things you did not know,
which is why neither of us can be held responsible for what happened. No one is
to blame so there is no one to punish.”
Su’mar
quickly drew the meaning from the woman’s words, it left her utterly gobsmacked. Her mouth wagged as she struggled to piece
together a response. “Certainly you do not mean to just... let me be?”
“I do. It was a low blow,” Isis touched her neck and the wounds here. She raised a
brow as she leaned over and whispered, “Not to say it was not entirely
undeserved.”
Su’mar
apologised again in a hush while her mind wrapped around the Elder Female’s
decision. The reasoning behind the decision made her ask if all humans were so understanding.
“There are some,” Isis
nodded. “Fortunately for you I lived among them. That is not to say my understanding
does not have limits.” Su’mar’s back straightened at
the change of tone. “If you ever attack me again, I will end you. By my own hand.”
Su’mar
looked at the petite hand clenched on the table and snickered. “You are funny,”
she trilled, sipping her drink. She paused her
merriment to glance at Isis, who stared intensely at her.
“I’m not kidding. At all.”
“I see…” For the first time since
their meeting, the Healer turned a critical eye on the human. She was about the
same height as she, her skin the same even and rich colour, but her body
boasted many more scars. Her hands although small, were thickened and callused
from thrown punches and deathly gripping. As a Healer, an expert in the anatomy
of many things, she knew of the things the Elder Female had done to earn them.
Su’mar
swallowed thickly and slowly began to eat her meal. “I cannot blame you,” she
sighed. “He is a great warrior and excellent provider.”
“And nice to look at,” Isis smiled watching him pass a tray across the table.
Even with such menial effort and casual motion, his arms rippled, tightened and
hardened to perfection.
“Yes,” Elder Q’sim
yawned, bored with their seeming heart to heart. “A good time had by all” He
looked up immediately when the table fell silent. “Did I say that aloud?”
“What do you think?” Ra’daei sighed, shaking his head.
At the table’s head, Ali’shir
glowered at the male but curiously enough, the human’s mouth held a hint of a
smile. She burst out laughing and Ali’shir leaned in his seat, speaking softly.
“Isis, he disrespected me and you. That was
not that funny.”
“He didn’t disrespect you, he told
the truth. You’re a whore.”
Su’mar
nearly choked on her bite of food. Coughing into her fist, she broke out into
cackling. Watching the two bend with laughter, Ali’shir ground his teeth. “I
told you once, female. Speak so that I may understand you.”
“There is no point,” Su’mar said. “He does not listen anyway.”
Isis
chuckled harder, “So you noticed that too?”
“Oh yes, it would infuriate me but
then I just learned not to tell him anything important.” Su’mar
and Isis nearly touched heads as she whispered a secret into the woman’s ear.
“Send him a message in his tablet. That way you have proof he is lying when he
tells you, ‘You said no such thing!’”
Isis
hid her face in her hands to quiet her riotous laughter. The female yautja snorted and rubbed her neck like Ali’shir would,
impersonating his gruff tone.
“THAT
goes for you as well, Healer!” Ali’shir grit. Now
she spoke the language while Isis responded in
yautja. Understanding half the conversation was
nearly as infuriating as not understanding all of it, especially when it made
his mate and former lover laugh so. He rubbed the scruff of his neck while the
two females fought their amusement to gain composure again.
“It was funny,” Isis
said, speaking in yautja. Ali’shir prattled low in his throat and the
female cracked a wry smile. “Maybe not to you, but I saw your face when he said
it and that was funny.”
“Perhaps I will find your face amusing when you catch me
laying another female.”
“That depends,” Isis
shrugged again and then continued to eat. “How funny do you think it’ll be when
I stab you?”
“Very,” he said matter-of-factly. “I
find the idea of you even thinking
you could do so amusing.”
Isis
took up her dining utensil and held it in a fist on the table. “Do I have to
make a point right here and now?”
“Why not?”
He goaded with a dark prattle. His hand flowered open as he motioned to all the
eyes watching them. “Let everyone see how wrong you are.”
Isis
swung her arm back and Ali’shir took a sharp breath feeling the tip graze his
side. Almost. He caught her hand in his fist and
pushed away from the table bringing her back to his chest as he wrestled the
weapon out of her hand. It fell to the floor and he wrapped his arms around
her, squeezing. Isis kicked her legs and
twisted with all her might but Ali’shir held her tightly. He sat down and bent
his body over her. She yelped seeing his mouth open, the fence of glittering
white teeth nearing her face. He nipped at her and the female broke out into
laughter, twisting more as he bit down her neck and shoulder in mock
frenzy.
“They joke?!” Ra’daei
said, easing back into his seat. Like a few at the table, he had a blade
strapped to his thigh. And also like those few, his hand was on it as he stood, his body tensed and ready to spring across the table
to put space between the fighting couple.
“Apparently.”
Q’sim quickly returned to his meal satisfied in
knowing his safety was not in jeopardy. “I shall have to ask the Elder Female
if knife play is also something common among her kind for arousal. I believe
they call it, ‘Forplay’.”
Ra’daei
eased in his seat as did the rest of the table except for Ka’jal
and Ny’ima who unlike, Q’sim,
never stopped eating as the couple tussled.
Ra’daei
asked why that was. “Considering what just happened, you did not think it even
worth the precaution?”
“They did this in Ge’tan,” Ka’jal waved his hand
dismissively. “This ‘arguing with smiles’ thing.”
“But she pulled a knife on him,
Elder Diplomat.”
“But she did not cut him.” Ka’jal said pointedly.
“She never does,” Ny’ima sighed, swirling her drink.
Ka’jal
laughed at his mate’s feigned disappointment a moment before telling Ra’daei to ease himself. “We thought they were serious once
too, but we came to know better, as do you now.”
“As do we all,” the Elder replied
watching the pair leave the table.
Ali’shir walked his laughing female
backward out the hall, past the guards who a moment ago where nearly on top of them
both. The entire table watched the couple with baffled expression but no one
was more stunned than Su’mar, who sat in dumbfounded
silence, unable to process what she had just seen.
The Elder Healer slid her eyes to
her assistant healer who held up a hand in protest. “Do not ask me to explain,”
Ny’ima announced, chewing the food in her maw. “I do
not understand them either.”
A/N: LovyDovy: Aww. Don’t fret, even if I stopped
posting, I’d hook you up somehow. I’m pretty sure I have your Email. You’ve been
a constant supporter—even when the story pissed you off—so I wouldn’t do you
like that.
Tiki:
Nope. He doesn’t
wear the mask anymore. I tried to imply it by characters being able to read his
expressions or his ability to kiss on the fly—something not possible before because of the mask. But I’m glad you
asked the question and thanks for commenting!
shortest_warrior:
Hehe, he is what he is. And uh, when
are we going to see Mr. Needles again? Hmm?
midnighteyes:
Lol. I wish AFF sent Email updates.
I’ve been in the same predicament, leave and come back, click on a story and
go, “When the HELL did all these get here?!” *scrolls through chapters*. I’ve
been thinking about sending out ‘notice’ emails myself so leave your address if
you want in.
Golandre:
Yea, the wealth
of “he grit”s are mostly unintentional and stem from
my limited vocabulary, lol. Although… it is a trait
of at least one character since he has anger management issues, heh. Thanks for bringing that up!
Jade: First let me say, I encourage and enjoy
reading critical comments about my work. Be it positive or negative, the
biggest motivation to post my stories publicly is the feedback I receive. Especially critical/knee-to-the-groin
ones as they help me grow and develop as a writer. However, there is a fine
line between critical and caustic and you—albeit perhaps unintentional—have
crossed that line, which is why I was forced to delete your reply.
My reviews section is not the place to bash other writers. In
fact there is no place like that on AFF at all but you can, however, offer
sound criticism as long as it is delivered with civility and respect to and
consideration for the author. Not that they have to take your advice or even
allow it to stand on their page, but you do so, so that at the very least you
know you behaved like a mature adult
and others don’t mentally scratch you off as a troll. So please, comment again,
I keep all my stories open for anonymous reviews deliberately just for people
like yourself to voice their opinions without the hassle of logging in, but
next time don’t name drop, especially if it’s coupled with derogatory elements.
Now that I have said my peace about
that, let me answer and reply to your questions and comments! I totally agree
with you that my story does not hinge on canon. I started writing this before I
even knew such a thing existed or that they were called yautja.
Not an excuse, but a reason, truly. I did a rewrite to fix some of that because
as I started learning more about Predators the more I looked at my story with
narrowed eyes and thought, “WTF iz this shyt?! *DELETE, DELETE, DELETE *” …but not enough for some
tastes obviously. I appreciate that you like the story line, the action and
sex—of which I have planned plenty more—but as far as wedging proper cannon
into the story at this state, it’s not likely. Ultimately, it is what it is,
but I thank you for taking the time to read and comment! Oh, and FYI, I’m a
woman—or at least last time I checked. *fondles* One, two… yup, everything’s
still here and accounted for.
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