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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.

Chapter List
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“Turn the ship around.”

At the Elder’s order, Rakai’in’s hands danced across the console in front of him, the tap, tap, tap of his claws clearly audible as he entered commands into the computer system, laying in a new course that would bring Yeyinde round in a graceful circle ready to return to the planet.

Excitement was already building and musk was evident in the air as those Hunters who happened to be present in the command room realised there was to be one last hunt before the tedium of the journey back to the home world. They all wanted to hunt and no doubt so would the rest of the warriors on board once word got round. Typically it was Da’rian who pointed out the obvious. “Do not get too excited,” he warned them even as he grinned at their obvious enthusiasm. “There is only one Ooman and more than fifty of us. We cannot all hunt him.”

Mar’cte, a short, stocky hunter who doubled as ship’s engineer, looked up from his post. “The kill will be mine of course, “ he claimed outrageously, provoking a burst of laughter from his fellow Hunters. It was ironic that his name meant Killer; unusually for a Yautja, Mar’cte was only competent as a hunter. His first priority was, and always would be, his beloved engines. Where most Yautja took on a secondary profession to enable them to hunt, Mar’cte hunted to maintain his place on a ship. His skill with all things mechanical was undeniable, whether tuning up the engines or repairing a hunter’s burnt out plasma cannon and was more than enough to earn him the respect of his comrades, even in spite of his shortcomings in the hunting department.

“I do not think so,” Rakai’in grinned, “I will find and kill the Ooman while you are still playing with your precious engines.”

“You?” Vor’chak-te scoffed, entering into the debate. “I am a much better hunter than you. The Ooman’s blood will stain my ki’cti-pa and his skull will adorn my trophy wall and…”

“…and win you the undying admiration of many females,” Kva’vic-te trilled. “Dream on, Young-Blood!”

Kva’vic-te bristled in pretended annoyance at the friendly insult. He was not yet old enough to be considered an Elite but he had an impressive record and was anything but a Young Blood.

The Elder listened to their good natured squabbling for a few minutes before silencing them with a gesture. “The hunt is mine,” he growled, ”I go alone.”

A surprised silence fell. None of them had expected their Elder to claim the hunt. Disappointed but respectful of his decision, they all bowed their heads in acceptance, one by one. All except Kihr’yende.

“H’ko!” Kihr’yende said, turning to face his father. Aware that his refusal to comply with his Elder’s wishes would not go down well, his posture radiated tension in readiness for the fight he knew was about to come. “I am going with you.”

“I go alone” Jau’esh’enye repeated, just as Kihr’yende had known he would. Unused to having his commands refused, the Elder straightened his spine, pulling himself to his full height as he tensed his muscles in readiness. Not quite as tall as his son, he was still an imposing figure and a lesser hunter would have been intimidated by the display of dominance.

“I said no,” his son insisted, “I will not change my mind on this. If you hunt then I hunt with you.” A moment ago they had been standing side by side – father and son, Clan Elder and ship’s Captain. Now they faced each other as adversaries, neither willing to give way. He leaned closer until their faces were barely inches apart, the tension of his posture and the set of his mandibles silently broadcasting his own readiness to fight.

The Elder bristled at what he saw as his son’s blatant disrespect. “The right is mine,” he growled, “The Ooman’s crime was against me and in the absence of an Arbitrator, it is for me to claim vengeance.”

Kihr’yende snorted. “I was in the shuttle bay too,” he reminded his father. “I have as much right to vengeance as you and I will not relinquish that right.”

“I warn you, Kihr’yende,” the Elder snarled, “Do not challenge me.” He flared his mandibles, baring his inner teeth in a display of blatant aggression that was designed to intimidate.

“You are forcing me to challenge you, Elder,” Kihr’yende snapped stubbornly.

His omission of the word ‘honoured’ from his father’s title was a deliberate insult, indicative of his deep anger. But if it had any effect, Jau’esh’enye gave no indication other than a narrowing of his eyes.

“It is my right to hunt and I will not back down.” Kihr’yende continued. Almost of its own accord, his hand moved to his belt where his blade was sheathed in easy and quick reach.

Jau’esh’enye saw the movement and reacted accordingly, reaching for his own dagger. With great effort he had ignored the previous insult but his son had just crossed the line. "I AM THE ELDER!” he roared. YOUR DISRESPECT WILL ONLY BE TOLERATED SO FAR”

Several of the Hunters shifted uneasily, glancing at Da’rian for reassurance as the argument between father and son escalated. He was known to be the peacemaker, why was he not intervening?

Da’rian shook his head slightly, he was neither stupid nor suicidal and had no intention of getting involved. When these two disagreed it was always explosive and getting between them was not a good idea. Silently he willed Kihr’yende to ease off a little and give his father room to back down without losing face. He had little hope of that though, his friend had always been quick tempered and confrontational. For all that, on this occasion he found himself in full agreement with Kihr’yende even if he did not approve of his way of handling things. Compared to the Yautja, Oomans were small and weak, but they were resourceful and devious and the one they hunted had no honour. In years past, when Oomans had still been legal prey, more than one hunter had fallen to them. Their Elder had been very seriously injured in the hive cleansing and it was only thanks to the skill and determination of the Vulcan healer that he was still alive. Jau’esh’enye was a vastly experienced Hunter but he was not fully recovered from his wounds.

Almost as though he had heard Da’rian, Kihr’yende unexpectedly softened his approach. “Honoured One, many years have passed since we last hunted together as father and son. I have not forgotten how, when I was just a pup, you took me into the jungle and taught me the way of the Hunt.”

“You learned well,” the Elder acknowledged, “I have always been proud of you.”

“I would be honoured,” Kihr’yende said, carefully gauging his father’s reaction, “If you would allow us to hunt together once more.”

Slowly the Elder nodded. Now that his son was acting more respectfully he was willing to listen. Even so, he would compromise only so far. “Very well,” he conceded, “We will hunt together. But I warn you now Kihr’yende, the kill is mine.”

Kihr’yende lowered his head in acceptance of his father’s wishes.

Aware that somehow he had lost the argument, Jau’esh’enye found that he was nevertheless satisfied with the outcome. It would indeed be good for them to hunt together. Allowing himself to relax he twitched his mandibles in a faint smile. “Come then. We must prepare for the hunt.”

Watching the Elder and his son depart, Rakai’in shook his head as something occurred to him. He turned to Da’rian. “Kay-lan is his friend,” he said, frowning. He had no issues with the idea of hunting an Ooman, but the Elder’s reaction did not make sense to him. “Why did he refuse her request?”

Several of the other hunters murmured in agreement. They too wanted to know the answer to Rakai’in’s question.

Da’rian gave the query careful consideration. He had a natural affinity for politics and diplomacy that was rare in a Yautja and even rarer in one so young. “He did not refuse her,” he said eventually, “I think he gave her exactly what she wanted.”

Rakai’in frowned. “I do not understand.”

“Kay-lan is a blooded member of this clan” he told the younger hunter, “She does not need permission to set foot on one of our planets. She knows this. There was no other way for her to do what must be done and still comply with the orders of her superiors.”

“Then… Her request for permission was in fact a request for us to hunt and kill the Bad-Blood?”

“Exactly,” Da’rian said, “She offered us a trophy. Our Elder understood this and responded accordingly.”
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A New Alliance