Chapter 7
T’liom roared. He roared loudly enough to make the pathetic oomans quiver. It’s sound was inhuman, powerful. And he wanted all of them to hear it.
Though he did not usually hunt sentient beings, oomans were different. They were the one exception to his personal rules against killing something with intelligence. Why? Because they were vile beasts. They sickened him, in general. Though, he had fought a few oomans that would be worthy of hunting alongside even him.
The yautja realized that he contradicted himself, it was a flaw of his. But he could hardly care less. All that mattered was the joy of the hunt, the feeling of the kill. He roared again.
Sle-kaun ran into the room ahead of T’liom, throwing his spear at the nearest ooman, killing it. He then threw his smart disk, which sliced off the heads of three ooman scientists. As his disk came around, the elderly warrior jerked his right arm, releasing the three wrist blades from their hiding.
T’liom decided that he had watched enough, and was ready to bag a few trophies himself.
His combi-staff stretched out to it’s full length of three meters as he jumped into the air, flying towards the middle of a mass of oomans. Six of them pointed their guns towards him and shot, the warrior ducked, and spun around three hundred-sixty degrees, knocking five of them (and another ooman who hadn’t been looking) down onto the ground. The last ooman shot again, but the bullet hit the ceiling, for when T’liom jabbed him with his combi-staff his arm flung upwards.
T’liom lifted his leg up onto the dying ooman’s shoulder, grabbed his neck, and ripped off his skill, along with some of his spinal cord. The yautja threw the skull at an ooman trying to escape, knocking him to the ground.
One of the oomans shouted something T’liom didn’t understand, and they all began backing up, though still shooting their deadly weapons.
As quickly as he could, T’liom threw his shuriken at the ooman who had called out the order. It stuck into his sternum, but did not go through.
I must have forgotten to fully charge my weapon, T’liom thought, knowing that, at full charge, the shuriken could split bone just as easily as it could flesh.
T’liom cursed his foolishness and threw his combi-staff at the same creature. It not only hit him, but sent him flying into the wall behind him, hanging by his shoulder where the combat staff had pierced him. T’liom let out a quick roar of triumph, to let the others know that he had killed the leader.
But it wasn’t dead yet. The leader managed to raise his pistol and shoot at a nearby yautja, wounding him. Luckily it was only a young blood, not very experienced in the ways of hunting. T’liom released his dual wrist blades, and walked towards his prey.
But then a shrill cry caught his ear, one of the oomans was still shooting at him. It appeared to be attempting to halt his approach towards his prey.
Foolish.
T’liom ran over to the leader, hanging from the wall, and ripped out his shuriken. He tossed it at the ooman shooting at him, but it missed, hitting the wall behind him and clanking to the floor.
Pauking weapon! T’liom cursed to himself. It had completely lost its charge.
The ooman turned and ran off to escape with the other survivors.
T’liom angrily turned to his prey. It was making some kind of noise . . . and its eyes salivated profusely. What was it doing? Some kind of ooman death ritual? Calling for help? Trying to threaten his attacker? Whatever it was it disgusted the yautja warrior.
“Vile creature,” T’liom spat, slicing off its head with his wrist blades.
* * *
Cadet Wood didn’t know what had happened, but it had happened fast. The yautja had killed most of the scientists and officers. They had even killed Doctor Jonathan. He wished he could have done something about it. But there wasn’t time to think about that. They had to get off the Exposure as fast as possible, before the predators found them.
Sonja was crying. She was used to seeing blood, but not in such mass quantities, and not from Doctor Jonathan, who she had been very fond of.
The cadet looked around the small room silently. Who was left?
Three scientists, besides Sonja, Lieutenant Leshin, Cadet Shultz, Cadet Thor, and Cadet Wood himself. He didn’t know the scientists very well, or anyone else for that matter. But he was determined to escape with all of them alive. There was safety in numbers.
Lieutenant Leshin stood up from his sitting place on a crate and sighed, fiddling with his Star-of-David necklace “Alright, boys and girls, it looks like I’m the man in charge now. We’re getting out of here alive, all of us.”
“What about the captain?” Cadet Shultz asked quietly, with his thick German accent.
“I doubt the captain is still on this ship,” Cadet Thor commented.
Everyone turned their gazes to the rough looking female cadet.
“Well yeah, I mean, if he was aboard why didn’t Doctor Jonathan have us go and get him when we left the bridge?” she said shrugging, as if embarrassed of her own reasoning.
“You’ve got a point,” Cadet Shultz said, nodding. He turned to Leshin, “She’s got a point.”
The Lieutenant thought about it for a moment, a hand resting on his thick beard which was growing ever longer. “Alright, we move on.”
“What about Commander Anderson?” Thor asked. “And where the hell is Darwin?”
“Him and his team are probably fried,” Lieutenant Leshin said. “And screw Anderson, he’s dead too.”
Cadet Wood remained motionless, looking at the floor, afraid to express his feelings against leaving Anderson behind. Everyone else nodded in agreement.
“Alright, let’s head out. The lifeboats aren’t too far from here. If we can make it too one then we can probably fly to Starlwart, it isn’t too far from here and the company just bought it out,” said Leshin.
“Why don’t we just dock with the cruise liner?” a doctor asked.
“Hey man,” Cadet Shultz said, standing up. “I don’t wanna be anywhere near those freakin’ bugs! I’ve seen what they do, man. You can’t get me anywhere near those bastards.”
“We’re going to Stalwart and that’s final,” Leshin finished. “Now, follow me and stay close.”
The assembled group got up and headed out.
Sonja was last, she hadn’t really been listening.
Cadet Wood held up his carbine and walked backwards, slowly. Sonja would get in the way if he had to shoot, but he couldn’t gain the courage to tell her to move. She had a strange look on her face, it was obvious she missed Doctor Jonathan. But Wood knew her, and he knew that she would get over it soon.
But still, she looked extremely depressed, walking slowly in her skin tight lab coat, looking down at the ground.
The cadet was looking at her, lost in thought, when a roar echoed through the hallways of the Exposure. This wasn’t the first time that had happened, but it was getting closer. It made the soldier jump.
“Alright people, we’re picking up the pace,” Leshin ordered, “Let’s go, move, move!”
And they began running.
* * *
Setg'-in had been killed. His name implied swiftness, but apparently the young blood warrior hadn’t been swift enough to avoid the ooman’s weapons. Na-kla’re, Yeyinde, Zri’ta, and On-yuka had all been severely wounded. But nonetheless the hunt had been successful. Many ooman heads were collected in that battle, including the one of the lead Pyode Amedha.
T’liom felt the warm, neon green blood which dripped from a small bullet wound on his rib. The bullet had hit the side of his body which had armor, which had slowed it down enough from killing the yautja. But it still left a wound. Yet another scar to tell a tale with.
Though many of the younger yautja had had their fill of the kill that day, Sle-kaun was eager for more. He had already gathered his skulls and weapons, strapped them onto himself, and was ready to hunt down the survivors. T’liom couldn’t blame his leader, there were trophies to collect.
The bodies of the dead ooman warriors hung, skinned and headless, from the ceiling. It was tradition to, if there was time, flail the bodies of one’s victims before taking their skulls. Though this didn’t work when hunting xenomorphs, for even after death their acid blood could kill, it fit nicely when hunting soft meat.
T’liom quickly charged his shuriken using the energy reserves in the backpack which hung mostly of his right shoulder. According to his wrist computer (which also served as a navigation system, emergency energy reserve and thermonuclear self destruct device) he had most of his energy left, which meant that he would be fine for the rest of the hunt most likely.
“Come, let us achieve
Nain-desintye-de, the pure win!” Sle-kaun said loudly, so that all the warriors could hear. “
Nan-de Than gaun!” No mercy.
The yautja roared in compliance, ready to finish off the survivors.
Then, On-yuka fell to the ground, shot by an ooman weapon.
T’liom turned to see a group of seven, well armed, ooman warriors, standing in the door way which the yautja had come through in the first place.
Gya-wul Thwei. Fresh blood.