Orders
“The Council wishes to speak to you, Ka’thrai T’cho-tok.” The female speaks lowly. “A signal has gone off, on the Jungle Planet, the pyode amedhadon’t know what they are getting themselves into.”
I don’t need to say much, keeping my eyes on the floor, I nod my head once. “I will clean the mess, De’krai.”
She huffs, a soft purr coming from her throat. “Do not attempt to flatter me, Zravok.”
Her holographic form moves away as other females come into view. The tallest one, the sovereign mother waves her hand before speaking. “Ka’thrai T’cho-tok,” She chuffs. “We have a need of you.”
“I am ready.”
“On the jungle planet, centuries ago, we kept a cluster of Kainde Amedha eggs, ready and frozen for hunts. The terrain grew unstable, but the land stayed frozen. The hoomans have disturbed the ground, the nest will awaken, and it will be more trouble than we want.” She purrs softly. “Take care of it.”
“It will be done.” I answer, fingering my broken tusk.
“There is more,” Another voice speaks from her right side. “Yeyin’guh are in the area. We suspect they may want to capitalize on both sets of prey.”
I growl without realizing it. This hunt just got more interesting. “I will return the skulls.”
“No need,” The sovereign mother raises her hand. “Perhaps add another scar for stories to enthrall your kin upon your return. You will communicate after, and we will know you have done well, Ka’thrai T’cho-tok.” She inclines her head. “Hunt well.”
As the communication ends, I shake myself and look around my ship. I had hopes on resting at one of our outlying stations. Perhaps mating to release energy, there are still plenty of younger females who wish to breed and would seek me out. I have no need to hunt for sport any longer, I have fathered many children to give my clan the high status it has now. As an arbitrator I enforce the laws of the Yautja nation. Bad Bloods gone awry, Xenomorphs out of control, any threats to our people or control that we have are nullified by me.
The Jungle Planet though. I have not been here in ages, at least 75 years. Man, is what they call themselves and they are interesting creatures to hunt. Moving back to my piloting console, I tap my claws along the grooves and buttons, setting a course for Earth, (as they call it) it won’t take me long to get there, but first I’ll make a stop at a supply depot for weapons and rations.
Hoomansare fascinating creatures. They are soft. No claws, fangs, or hard skin to protect them. They survive on wit, charisma, and their amazing ability to do the last thing one would predict. Many of my kind, the greatest of hunters have fallen prey to their wiles and inane machinations.
I have not, but that is also because I have learned to never second guess a hooman. If you think they won’t, they will, and they’ll do it when you aren’t looking. Ha! The bold ones will do it while you’re staring at them. Many among them are honorable warriors, it’s finding them that is the real treat.
Seventy-five years. The Jungle Planet will have changed. The hoomans terraform landmasses in droves. I wonder what it will look like when I land. Curiosity is valuable in a Yautja — cautious curiosity. I have trained many young hunters who shared it… and more with none at all. Those ones never made it.
Four days to the outpost. Two more to the destination. I wonder if there will be a hooman that surprises me this time.
Passing my trophy room, I glance at the few skulls within… and the one belonging to the human who gave me this scar.
Time to prepare for a glorious hunt.
