Chapter Text
J’zaedh did not like this planet. It was cold and damp, everything cast in dull shades of gray. Their hunt leader, Elder Oh’twan, had told them it was winter here, a season that never happened on Yautja Prime. The trees, with their gnarled black limbs that scratched the washed-out sky, weren’t dead, only slumbering, awaiting the return of warmer days and stronger light from their one sun. When that happened, they would burst into colorful blooms, followed by abundant green leaves. Unfortunately, they would be long gone before then.
“How could one planet be so ugly?” he asked Raj’che, with whom he shared a log while they ate their cold hunting rations.
“No wonder humans are small and hideous,” the other Unblooded groused. “I’m so glad we don’t live here.”
Behind them, Oh’twan chuffed, causing both to sit ramrod straight with alarm. “You boys are soft,” he chided them, laying a firm hand on J’zaedh’s shoulder. “Wait until we go to the volcano planet.”
J’zaedh could read his own question in Raj’che’s eyes. There’s a volcano planet?
They didn’t dare voice it, though, because the Elder had come around to stand in front of them, amongst their pack of half a dozen Unblooded young hunters. This was the second planet they had made landfall on. They had hunted dangerous predators on the last one, but they hadn’t been sentient. This was the first where they would face prey that were as intelligent as they were. Six pairs of eyes were prepared to hang on every word Oh’twan said, lest they fail in their mission. Besides, not doing so could get them cuffed with claws out, as Vay’tril’s healing left mandible could attest.
“This is one of my favorite planets for training young hunters,” Oh’twan intoned, causing them to focus intently on his scarred face and forever closed eye. “Humans will always send out a scouting party to see what landed here. They come bristling with weapons that are inferior to ours, wielded by mostly males, roughly your age. They make excellent practice for Unbloodeds.”
“Some could be female, Elder?” J’zaedh asked, with cautious curiosity.
“Occasionally, but based on what they wear, it’ll be hard to tell. You are at liberty to kill any who raise a weapon against you. But if you capture a human who isn’t obviously armed, you may not kill them. You will bring them to me once the rest of the humans are dead.”
“Can we take trophies, Elder?” Vay’tril asked, unable to suppress his enthusiasm.
But Oh’twan must have been feeling unusually benevolent because he merely chuckled at the Unblooded’s outburst. “I expect as much, Vay’tril.”
The Elder’s wrist device vibrated, causing him to focus his attention on it. His mandibles stiffened, causing the battle damage in the right one to become more noticeable. “They’re coming,” he warned the Unbloodeds. “You know what to do.”
J’zaedh felt his heart race as he and the others assumed battle formation, doing a rapid weapons check on himself before flicking on his invisibility cloak. As ready as he could possibly be, he advanced among the barren trees across the spongy, damp ground in the direction Oh’twan had indicated. As if on cue, tendrils of fog, not unlike those on his ship, began to thread between the tree trunks. This fog, however, only added to the general chill and gloom. He suppressed the urge to shiver, even though his hunting garb was adequately warming him.
His hunting pack had plenty of warning before their quarry arrived. Even had he not been able to smell the stink of their fear, they were pathetically loud as they moved through the forest. Dry twigs snapped beneath their heavy feet, their armored bodies scraping against the tree trunks. They had no way to make themselves invisible beyond strategically employing their camouflage clothing to blend into their surroundings. The moment they got in range, every hunter’s mask could detect the bright flare of their heat signatures.
Oh’twan had told them to draw the soldiers’ fire before attacking. Then there could be no doubt that their presence was meant to harm the Yautja. Once that was established, the humans were free for the taking. A hunter to J’zaedh’s left stumbled rather noisily—the hapless Vay’tril, he was almost certain—causing one of the soldiers rapidly approaching them to accidentally discharge his weapon. Once one had fired, they all began firing. Immediately, there were shouts, likely their leader trying to rein them in, but it was already too late.
Challenge roars erupted from some of his pack members as they sprang into action, using the trees to swing forward while avoiding the hail of projectiles. J’zaedh picked out a soldier, whose gun was rapidly spending ammunition, as his first target. He swooped down on the human from above, his unexpected weight knocking the soldier off balance. J’zaedh was close enough that the human could see the distortion of his cloaking device and knew he was there. His dark eyes rolled fearfully in J’zaedh’s direction as he attempted to evade his next move.
He was unsuccessful. Without thinking, J’zaedh triggered his wristblades and drove them up under the soldier’s chin, realizing too late that this would destroy the skull. Cursing himself, he withdrew them, letting the soldier’s now lifeless body collapse to the ground. Raj’che must’ve been near enough to see what he’d done and hear his regret over it, because he heard the Unblooded’s laughter.
“We take the skulls home, remember?” he teased.
J’zaedh knew he would get lots of good-natured ribbing from the whole hunting pack later. However, there were still several soldiers left to fight. He wouldn’t make the same rookie mistake with the next kill. If Elder Oh’twan was lurking among them, he mercifully chose not to comment in the moment. Selecting his next target, J’zaedh got back to work.
While he had no good gauge on human ages, the next soldier behaved as if he was more seasoned, making strategic use of the trees to keep J’zaedh at bay. Pleased to have drawn a worthier opponent this round, he pressed his attack, finally disarming the human. He wasn’t done fighting, however, pulling a respectable size edged weapon for hand-to-hand combat. The human crouched, dancing back and forth on his feet, his fierce eyes focused on the Yautja, awaiting his next move.
J’zaedh’s wristblades sang as their wicked, bloody lengths sprang forth, mute proof that he had already killed today. If the soldier saw the red that stained them, he gave no sign. While humans were known to be clever and tenacious, they were no match for even a young hunter in a one-on-one fight. This one fought with admirable bravery, even managing to stab his thigh, before J’zaedh’s wristblades pierced his chest. J’zaedh felt he had earned the skull and spine he gleefully ripped from the dead human, holding his dripping trophies aloft while roaring his triumph for all to hear.
By the time it was over, J’zaedh had three skulls hanging from his belt. Covered in blood and gore, he felt extremely satisfied with his performance, minus the initial slipup, and proud of his abilities. He had proven himself against worthy foes, a large boost to his confidence that he would pass his chiva, which would happen in the next couple of months.
“I see you figured out how not to destroy your trophies,” Raj’che snarked at him.
His closest hunt brother also bore three skulls. “I got one more than you, even if I don’t have anything to show for it,” J’zaedh replied, with a deliberately haughty air.
He was waiting for Raj’che’s expected retort when he saw a flash of something deep in the woods. J’zaedh was instantly so alert that all thought of their conversation left his hunt brother.
“What is it?” he hissed, intently.
“I think there’s one more,” J’zaedh whispered back, tersely.
The other four Unbloodeds were already heading back towards the ship, assuming their job was done. Rather than shouting at them and giving away the game, he and Raj’che cloaked and headed deeper into the woods, taking responsibility for tracking down a possible human that they had missed. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before they spied a heat signature. They shoved each other, excitedly, a silent affirmation that there was still a hunt to be had. Raj’che took the lead, intent upon evening up the score with J’zaedh.
The pair moved forward on nearly silent feet, approaching the target, who seemed unaware of them. J’zeadh was already gloating over what easy pickings this was going to be when the heat signature abruptly vanished. They looked at each other, flummoxed, before running forward, no longer concerned about making noise. Crashing through the trees, they finally caught sight of it again. Every time they drew near it, it disappeared, only to materialize again up ahead.
J’zaedh gave the hand signal that they should separate and try to outflank it. With a curt nod, Raj’che headed away from him. Frustratingly, the pattern continued. How could a human be so fast? And suppress their scent so well? It wasn’t possible. Just when he thought they might have to report a humiliating defeat to their strict hunt leader, the seeming wraith was suddenly within easy reach. Noting that he saw no weapons in evidence, J’zaedh pounced on the defenseless human.
It gave a loud cry and struggled with him, but this one seemed smaller and lighter than the others he had fought, the blows it struck more annoying than painful.
“It’s a female,” Raj’che gasped, solving the mystery for him.
Indeed, once he paid attention to her scent, it was readily apparent. She stank of sweat and fear and delicious femaleness. To his horror, his cock swelled to fill his codpiece.
She’s prey! he admonished it, with sick disgust, hoping Raj’che wouldn’t smell his arousal.
Not that it mattered, because a moment later, he smelled Raj’che’s. They stared at each other’s masks for a second before averting their faces simultaneously, ashamed.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” his hunt brother promised, earnestly.
“Oh’twan would beat us both,” J’zaedh agreed, heartily. “We’ll never speak of it again.”
Tiring of the female’s pitiful struggles, he tossed her onto his shoulder, her belly thudding hard enough to drive out her breath. She lay still, gasping to get it back. Her helplessness made his cock twitch, which appalled him. They were halfway back to the ship, when all at once, Elder Oh’twan was in front of them.
“You!” he bellowed at the female, with undisguised ire.
“Oh shit!’ she wheezed.
Slippery in her sudden fear, she nearly escaped J’zaedh’s grasp.
“You’re not going anywhere!” Oh’twan growled at her, wrapping a hand in her dark, shoulder length hair.
J’zaedh knew if their hunt leader ever spoke to him with that much rage, death would surely follow. He felt a touch of pity for the prey female, who would undoubtedly suffer mightily before she died. She yelped as Oh’twan dragged her off J’zaedh’s shoulder and put her back on the ground, claws firmly twisted in her hair, so she had no choice but to walk or be dragged painfully forward. She whined petulantly at Oh’twan, but those weren’t words he’d heard before. He keyed his wrist device to allow his mask to translate for him.
“You’re not giving me the slip again,” the Elder vowed, enraged. “Not after what you did!”
J’zaedh shot a look at Raj’che, wishing he could see his hunt brother’s eyes. He wondered if he was also dying to know what this was all about. His mind buzzed with questions: How had they met? What had she done? How had she escaped whenever that was? And what would he do to her now?
Unfortunately, now that he could understand what she said, the female didn’t speak further. Instead, she made vain attempts to escape the hand that nearly covered her whole head, whining at the pain it caused her. J’zaedh noted their long strides forced her into a near trot.
Oh'twan marched the female into the ship with them, despite her laughable resistance, and into the conference room. When the pair attempted to follow them inside, the hunt leader glared over his shoulder at them and growled with such ferocity that they both jumped back. He was loud enough that he must've been heard in the mess hall, because the other four Unbloodeds joined them, all staring curiously at the closed door.
"What's going on?" Vay'tril asked, nervously.
"J'zeadh and I caught another human, a female," Raj'che explained, his chest puffing out proudly. "She was much harder to catch than the males. When Elder Oh'twan found us, he started shouting at her. He must—"
An earsplitting shriek cut him off, followed by loud thuds as if something--or someone--was being thrown around the room. Claws violently ripped apart something flimsy—paper? clothing? Oh'twan let out the angriest roar, before meek pleading issued from the human. J'zaedh was horrified that his translator, which he had set earlier so he could understand her utterances, made them make sense.
"You don't have to do this!" she insisted, her voice nearly a sob. “I never meant to-- "
She wailed, a long, drawn-out howl of terror, before they all heard a cadence both familiar and horrible. The female continued to utter painful cries, while Oh’twan growled with undisguised delight.
"He's not-- " Raj'che began, but faltered before he could finish his sentence.
--fucking her, J'zaedh completed in his head, transfixed by the noise coming from behind the door.
Even though none of them had partaken of the mating pit yet, Yautja weren't private about sex. All of them had seen and heard hunters and females mate before; it sounded very much like what they were hearing now. J'zaedh felt as if his whole sense of who Oh'twan was had gotten turned on its head. From the time he was small, he had been taught that sex with any creature other than a Yautja female simply wasn't done. He could see the same shock in the faces of the other Unbloodeds.
All at once, the human screamed to the depths of her soul. There was the terrible popping, wrenching sound the group of young hunters immediately recognized. They had all made it several times in the past hour. The horror of it tingled up J’zaed’s spine because he knew she had no weapons.
“She was unarmed,” Raj’che echoed next to him, scandalized.
Was their hunt leader a Bad Blood? J’zaedh wondered, appalled.
The door opened to the fearsome sight of Elder Oh’twan, painted with red blood, holding aloft a freshly harvested skull and spine. There was the green bloom of a new wound on his upper thigh. To J’zaedh’s surprise, he smelled only the bloods and the fading essence of her fear. Perhaps what they had heard wasn’t sex after all.
“Show’s over,” Oh’twan barked. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning your trophies instead of standing out here gawking?”
He stalked through them as they tried to scatter, heading the opposite direction from the mess hall, down a corridor the Unbloodeds weren’t allowed to enter. In a moment, J’zaedh was left standing there by himself, puzzled. Everything that had happened since he had seen the female in the woods felt somehow wrong, although he couldn’t quite say why. He stood there for some time, his mind turning furiously.
How was a human female able to get away from us like that? There’s no way … unless … but that’s crazy.
Propelled by a notion that defied logic, J’zaedh followed his hunt leader down the forbidden hall on silent feet. He took his time, listening intently for he knew not what. When he heard it, he wasn’t surprised, but he was also profoundly confused. Following the droplets of blood from the trophies Oh’twan had taken led him to a door he had never entered before. If what lay beyond it was the Elder’s quarters, then he was about to do either the bravest or the foolhardiest thing he had ever done. Bracing himself, he stepped up to the door to see if it would admit him.
It opened.