“There’s a fucking predator on board! Are we safe in here from that thing?” Tristen blurted whilst keeping his eyes on the monitor. He had just watched the mighty creature dispatch three Xenomorphs with ease.
“This is the best chance that we’ve got. This safe room is shielded from Yautja technology. As far as we know anyway. Their species are adept at evolving their technology to counter our own. So, in theory, it doesn’t even know that we’re here.” The ships chief engineer, Ariel, responded then shrugged. “We’re fucked anyway. The Xenomorph definitely know we’re here. They just haven’t found a way in yet.”
Tristen, Ariel and four others had locked themselves in the safe room for almost two weeks. The room had everything that they needed. Renewable energy and water. Food supplies for at least two months. And meter thick walls on all four sides. It was made for this exact purpose. In case of enemy attack. They were aboard a large asteroid mining vessel. Two weeks ago, there were almost five hundred crew and workers aboard. Now, from what they had seen and heard, it was just them. It had all started when the mining ship received a distress call from a small vessel not far from where they were. The ships command complied. It was their folly. There was no one alive when they reached the signals source. It was a blood drenched ghost of its former self. A Xenomorph and swarm of parasitic face hugger was unleashed onto the mining ships populace. It was the matter of a single day before the creatures were dominant and free to prowl. The miners and crew were no soldiers, and the few guards that were, did not last the night.
“But it might help us, right? I’ve heard of that before.” Tristen said. He wasn’t a miner and he was far from crew or guard. He was there to inspect their operation and make sure that targets were being met. He was a business man, still suited and booted in the extravagance that his lifestyle allowed. He was also the first to flee to the safe room in the sight of danger.
“Do you not know what that is?” A voice came from behind, one that hadn’t spoken since they had been there. It was a man, huddled with his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth like an escaped mental patient. The event had clearly taken its toll on him, as it rightly should have. “That Yautja will not help you. He is the reaper of man.”
Defied by a member of his own species. The reaper would not let that pass. He hadn’t come to this place for the head of a Yautja, but if his hand was forced, so be it. To laugh in the face of the reaper was a foolish thing indeed. Zarack closed his communicator, he would not need it again. The next contact with the other predator would be face to face, blade to blade. He was not the only threat on board though. The Xenomorph were still stalking, prowling for their next kill. The humans that he had discovered seemed to be trapped in a room, like animals in a cage. The reaper was amused by this. He did not have hatred for their species, but they always made for an interesting hunt. Many Yautja had fallen at their hands, but not the reaper. He looked to the day that they would become a challenge.
Zarack stalked the human ship without hindrance. He knew that it wasn’t out of fear that the Xenomorph hadn’t initiated an attack yet, for they knew none. They hadn’t attacked yet due to opportunity. Despite their entirely bestial nature, they had a born instinct to know when they were outmatched. They were biding their time, stalking in shadow for the moment to strike. They had already tested the reaper for weakness, and found none. The next attack would be far greater, but Zarack was prepared. While the Xenomorph waited, he would use that time to hunt the fool that would dare mock him.
The reaper flicked his vision to detect Yautja technology. As if answering his thoughts, the other predator was close. A bright glow of luminous green flared in his sight’s, and it was moving in fast. Zarack could feel the floor beneath him vibrate under his assailant’s heavy footfalls. It was obvious to him now that the predator wasn’t there to hunt the Xenomorph, but him instead. The reaper would not flinch at the challenge and roared in defiance to let his foe know that he was not afraid. The floor stilled as the predator was close, his footfalls turning to a thunderous stride. From the corridors his colossal form emerged, his eyes locked on the Reapers. His shoulders were broader than Zarack’s and he stood taller. He wore little armour and adorned heavy scars and runes painted in white. Zarack recognised him as a berserker from a clan that he did not recognise. They were a bestial form of Yautja, one that gave into the rage of their species. They were a sight to behold and a terrifying combatant. But this one was young. Barely blooded. Its short-blackened quills denied its experienced façade.
“I am here for your head, Reaper.” The predator said.
“I welcome you to try.” Zarack replied.
“I, Tor of the Skarrin clan, challenge you.”
Before weapons were drawn, a piercing screech echoed from all around the Yautja. The vents above them shook and the floor below them clattered with claw. The Xenomorph had found their time to strike.
The next part is incoming Wednesday! Thank you for reading.