Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ruby couldn’t remember the last time he touched the ground. Real, gravity-bound earth. Not the sediment and bedding in the cages. Not the scrapes of dirt under the claws of his captor’s latest trophies. Not the steel plates of the alien ship.

Even in his protective jumpsuit, the ship was cold. Sweat padded the thick cloth down, turning chill within minutes in the recycled air.

There was no sense of time in space - Ruby couldn’t know how long he’d been prisoner. He used to keep track, making scratches on the wall of his cage each time he slept. But it was hard no know how long he even slept when the light levels never changed. 

Sometimes, he’d pass a window and stare though the ten centimeters of glass. Usually it all looked the same - an endless abyss of black, only disturbed by the occasional struggling star. Sometimes, Ruby wondered if he could break it. Three panes. Ten centimeters.

Today, they were on a strange planet. It was nearly barren, as far as the human could tell. The window gave a boring snapshot - a sheer rock wall. The purple stone hardly showed shadows as time passed on the planet. They were probably in a crater. Parked, for the time being. They’d been here a long time.

Once, the ship was in orbit of a planet that reminded Ruby of Earth. The vast, blue oceans and granite cliffs made the human’s head ache with pain. He had pounded his fists against the window with all the strength he could muster - screaming, crying and thrashing uselessly against the glass. It was stupid in hindsight. Who would hear him, except his Jailor?

The monster had stormed through the door, threw a massive, clawed hand around his neck and dragged him back to the cages. That was a long time ago.

Now, Ruby was in another cage. Not his. There were no windows in here - just a dim, unchanging and warm glow from a flat lamp in the wall. The long foliage cast shadows, waving slowly from the breeze generated by a vent on the opposite wall. This was the largest of the cages - it reached from floor to the four meter high ceiling. A huge, curved glass window was all that stood between the brutalist spaceship atrium and a lush, miniature jungle.

Something stirred in one of the darker corners, half hidden by tangle of broad, fanned leaves. Ruby didn’t move. He didn’t even react as two golden tendrils, emitting a soft glow, reached from beneath the dense foliage and settled on either side of the humans head.

“Amedha,” the voice came from within Ruby’s mind. It was so sweet, it made him sick.

“M-di amedha, no,” Ruby said quickly, flinching and brushing the tendrils away. “No meat.” He looked around, putting his back to a wall, before he spotted the alien. Or at least, her eyes. High above him, he followed the verdant vines into that dark corner, where two, golden lights twinkled back at him, flanked on either side by those same glowing tendrils. They reached towards him again, and Ruby reluctantly obliged, checking the seal on the half-mask covering his mouth and jaw.

“When?” came the voice again, still dripping with desire, but forceful. “Aseigan, when?” Ruby considered his answer carefully.

“Soon. Your n'yaka-de will return with fresh food soon,” he said, pulling away from the tendrils a second time. He didn’t know how much the alien understood, but she seemed to get the message, retracting the long appendages back into her body. They would converse like this often, Ruby being chased around the cage while completing his cleaning. She had picked a bit of Ruby’s language, and a bit of their captors, but whenever she diverged into her native tongue, it gave the human a splitting headache. He couldn’t stay in contact for long. Not by choice.

Ruby dragged his rake through the substrate, separating out the organic detritus and dumping it into a bucket. ‘Aseigan’ they called him. Servant. Slave. Experiment. Pet. It didn’t matter to Ruby. He did what they asked. The metal collar around his neck made sure of that.

A loud thump from behind him indicated that his companion was on the move, but Ruby turned too late. Long, sinewy fingers reached under his armpits, and he was pulled off his feet and fell on his rear into a soft nest of leaves and undergrowth.

“Lish is bored,” his mind purred. The long fingers stretched and grabbed at his chest, searching for the zipper of his jumpsuit. There was no warmth in her touch. Or anywhere in her body, for that matter. She was as cool as the air around them.

And she’d snuck up on him. He had to play this carefully. 

“Lish,” he said, trying to hide his rising nervousness. “Not now. I must work. ” He turned his head to regard her, knowing she was close by.

His eyes met with her own alien ones - almond-shaped but with no pupils or irises. Just a golden gleam. She blended in with the foliage of her cage perfectly. She could have been a plant - Ruby didn’t know. But she looked like one. Her overly long arms were attached to a humanoid torso, but that was where the similarities ended. From her hips down, she had an insect-like body - many-legged and bulbous. Each of her countless appendages writhed and twisted like the jungle plants she hid within. 

Atop her shoulders, she had a slender, long neck. Her face was near featureless except for her massive eyes. She had a mouth - most of her head was a mouth, but it was currently closed into a tight x. She didn’t use it to speak, only flaring it open to eat. Or to entertain their captor.

She was more than two meters long from end to end. Her skin was like many layers of leaves stacked atop one another. When she was upset, Ruby had seen her flare them out like a dry pinecone, making herself seem even larger. She wore no clothing - never had, for as long as Ruby had known her, except for a electronic, metal collar around her neck. The same that Ruby wore.

Lish, as Ruby came to know she was called, had always been here. Ever since he was first taken from Earth. She was their captor’s favorite. And she was beautiful, in a strange, artistic sort of way. But the human knew better. She was a dangerous, proud thing. She was the reason he had to wear a respiratory mask in her cage. Nearly all the other captives in the spaceship’s atrium were under her thrall. It made them pliant, but unable to make decisions for themselves. And completely unable to perform labor.

“N’yaka-de leaves Lish alone too long,” she pulled herself closer, curling around Ruby’s body. The first of her tendril-like legs coiled around his wrists. But she had ceased pawing at his clothing. “He neglects Lish.” She pulled Ruby closer, forcing him to lay into her as she began brushing her fingers through his short auburn hair. She liked to do that. Ruby let her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” he tried to reassure her, but the words were meaningless. Ruby didn’t want him to come back. It would mean another round of treatment. More of Lish’s vine-like legs tugged at Ruby’s limbs, inspecting him. The sleeve covering his forearm was rolled up.

“You have quills now,” Lish purred in approval, plucking absentmindedly at the few short protrusions from Ruby’s arm. The little dark spines had erupted sometime after his last treatment and had itched terribly at the time, but Ruby learned to ignore them. His other sleeve was followed suit. More quills. “Ruby is more like yautja every day.”

Ruby groaned, but said nothing. They’d had this conversation before, when the changes first started happening. When Lish made Ruby’s role clear.

“Maybe soon you look like Lish, too?” She purred again, this time, the sound coming from her body, not Ruby’s mind. It was like a motor, rippling through her abdomen and gently vibrating against the human. Normally, the gesture brought Ruby some comfort. Right now, it only made him ill. He tried to pull away from her, but the tendrils around his body held him fast.

“I need to work, Lish,” he stammered again, but her fingers had returned to his chest, one searching for a zipper while the other drew tight circles against the waxed fabric. “The other cages -“

“Who cares,” she cut him off, beginning to wrap her golden sensors around his head, covering his eyes. “Lish not like them. Lish likes Ruby.” He was sinking further into her body. Dozens of the vines covered him now, squeezing and rubbing against his thighs. One prodded experimentally against his groin, and he couldn’t hold back a pleasurable grunt. Another tendril began to pry at his face mask, looking for weak points in the seal.

“Lish,” he gritted his teeth, trying to resist her sensual teasing. He flicked his head away from the prying vine, rationalizing with the alien. “Not again, please. Your n’yaka-de will be angry.” But Lish didn’t relent. And Ruby didn’t want to pull away.

“He will listen to Lish,” she said, brushing aside the statement. “Lish is the favorite. And Lish likes Ruby.” She wasn’t giving up. Her vines were becoming bolder, more eager, as she began to rub him though his clothes. Ruby’s own arousal grew, warm and needy. Lish knew his body as well trodden territory - teasing and petting where she knew she’d get a good reaction.

With her free hand, she dragged her long fingers down his body, scratching though the canvas clothing. A vine grasped him by the hips, and when her hand cupped his sex, it pulled him towards her, forcing him to grind into her palm though the fabric. The motor-like purring continued, but Lish was becoming impatient. Her other hand still hadn’t figured out the zipper.

Frustrated, she rolled Ruby underneath her large body, squishing him against the bed of dead leaves. Ruby moaned, no longer resisting her forcible handling, and she trilled happily.

“Open up,” she commanded, freeing one of his arms from her grasp. She didn’t have the dexterity for the tiny zipper hidden against his collar. Ruby obliged, undoing the clasp and dragging the jumpsuit open below his navel, revealing his underclothes - a black sleeveless tank and boyshorts. The low cut showed the bare skin of his chest, flushed with arousal.

“More quills!” Lish exclaimed excitedly, and Ruby was glad the alien had covered his eyes earlier. He didn’t want to see her pleased expression. She quickly pinned his arm again and set to work, dancing her vines against his naked skin. The petting was becoming overwhelming, and the human stared to squirm. “Mask, too?” She asked greedily.

“No, Lish, m-di,” he said, breathy. “Not safe.” Her vines were eagerly exploring his body now, teasingly reaching under his waistband. Each brush with the thin skin of his groin pulled a moan from the humans agape mouth. He breathed hard and deep.

“Lish wants Ruby to feel good,” she whined, still testing the seal, now with her long fingers. She dragged them across his cheeks and the exposed parts of his neck, irritating the skin and leaving light red streaks. “Mask in the way.” 

Prolonged exposure to her thoughts was starting to wear on Ruby, and he felt her influence beginning to alter his own train of thought.

Maybe Lish was right. They’d done it before, and he was okay. Alive. Of course, their captor had been there to keep things from going to far, but Lish was careful. She was so gentle. And so good to Ruby. Didn’t he deserve to feel good? 

But he’d gotten sick. Really sick, last time she went too far. And without their n’yaka-de here, she would do it again. 

But wouldn’t it feel good? Wasn’t Ruby a good little pet? Lish liked him. She would keep him safe. Nothing mattered but that.

Ruby moaned loudly as her vines finally rubbed at his clit, circling and tugging until he was raw and hard. More vines constricted his body, nearly lifting him off the ground. Her leaf-like skin was so soft. He thrust uselessly into her, seeking release. 

He could feel his slick coating his skin as the human squirmed in pleasure. He clamped his thighs involuntarily, before Lish’s vines pulled them apart again, pinning him open. The fabric of the jumpsuit might have ripped, but the thought was dashed as Lish’s hand slipped lower, palm grinding hard on his throbbing clit while a pair of fingers began to part though his wet folds. His underwear were slipped down.

“Ruby is so warm,” she nuzzled her head against his chest and barely teased her fingertips at his entrance. “So slick and tight. Ruby has missed n’yaka-de, too.” She began parting her fingers, massaging him open but refusing to push deeper into his vagina. The rough grinding on his clit picked up again. “N’yaka-de will never fit like this.”

Ruby’s panting continued, only vaguely aware as Lish curled her abdomen up, bringing the end close to Ruby’s spread legs. A thin, purple-tinted length extended from the end, and Lish started to slowly thrust against the fabric protecting the human’s thighs. Prioritizing her own pleasure, the torment of his clitoris began to slow. The human struggled to form words.

“It’s for you, Lish,” he affirmed. “It’s only ever been for you.” For a moment his arousal slunk back, cringing at his own lies. For years now they’d only had each other, weathering the endless days of boredom with games, conversation and sex. They had something, sure, but it was manufactured - inorganic in nature. A shell. But he told Lish what she wanted to hear, and they used each other in the lowest way.

She lifted her body off his and pulled the jumpsuit aside, curling her abdomen to grind the long alien organ directly against his vulva. It was slick and cool, eliciting a gasp from the human with each thrust.

“Ruby prefers Lish?” She accentuated each word with quick, successive thrusts, altering her slow, steady rhythm.
“Sei-i, yes,” the human whimpered. “More, please-” he was begging, though the words weren’t traceable in his mind. Lish kept him on edge, stringing him out as he writhed against her huge body, helpless in her grasp. Her vines lifted his hips, and she shifted, positioning herself at his entrance. A few more quick, shallow thrusts did nothing but further his torment, and Lish trilled happily at the moans it elicited from the human. She pushed in, only a centimeter. At his face, one long finger found a weakness in the seal of his mask, and Lish pushed underneath.

“Open up,” she repeated excitedly, her own mouth beginning to furl open. The golden tendrils retracted from around his eyes, and began to slip toward the crack in Ruby’s mask. Ruby opened his eyes, and thousands of thorn-like teeth stared back at him. If Lish was a flower, then her mouth was a deadly bloom. Bright yellow edges faded to gold to rich brown at the center, and into the darkness of her gullet. More glowing gold tendrils squirmed from within her mouth, like the pistils of a flower, eager to find purchase in Ruby’s own. A light, gold dust filled the air between them as they writhed.

Her own mind retracted from Ruby’s, and the human blinked in sudden clarity. His mask was being lifted. Still horribly aroused, he squirmed in place, eliciting an erotic rumble from Lish, deeper than her purrs. More monstrous.

“Lish, m-di! Too far!” He stammered, quickly jerking his head away from her prying fingers. The seal of his mask snapped tight against his skin again, and Lish grumbled again, retracting her gold pistils and clamping her mouth shut. Her abdomen pulled away, leaving a string of slick arousal as she retracted from his hole. She was angry.

“Ruby is selfish,” she whined, those two long tendrils returning to the humans temples. They patted him needfully, urging the human to give in again. “N’yaka-de leaves us all alone. Lish was so lonely before Ruby.”

Ruby shook his head again, trying to dislodge the tendrils. He pushed in all directions, fighting against the constricting vines. He shouted, kicked, anything he could do to find purchase. At last, Lish relaxed her grip, and Ruby quickly scrambled to his feet. He dashed back to his tools, gathering them up with a quick glance and Lish, who was still hunched over the leaf bed. She hadn’t moved.

He didn’t bother zipping his jumpsuit back up, just dashed for the glass door, jamming his thumbprint on the scanner. It dawdled a moment, processing, before lighting up green. Not turning his back to the alien, he reversed out the door as fast as he could, slamming his fist against the pad to close it again. It slammed shut with a hiss. Only five centimeters of glass between them now would make him feel safe.

When Lish still didn’t move, Ruby finally let out a tense sigh. He head was throbbing in pain. His jumpsuit slumped off his shoulders, and his tank top had rolled up, exposing the soft skin of his stomach. He was still breathing hard, his own orgasm never having reached its peak. But that didn’t matter. It was completely forgotten in the wake of Ruby’s escape. Now, only a dull, needy ache remained.

He felt his hackles lowering. It was a weird sensation - like goosebumps making your hairs stand on end. But now the flexing of his new quills made his clothing shift in ways he wasn’t used to. It made him feel sicker. He started to cover himself again, eager to save what little warmth he had left. 

A loud slam made his heart nearly leap out of his throat. He seized up, reflexively jerking towards the noise, fear overwhelming his senses. It was Lish, prostrate against the glass. She was glaring at him, her golden eyes laced with annoyance, and she thrust her sex organ against the surface. The glass muffled the noise within her cage, but Ruby heard her ticking loudly at his panic. Her form of laughter.

He tried not to let it faze him. She was prone to tantrums. And without their captor here to entertain her, she had become increasingly moody. He tapped another button on the door controls, and the glass polarized, blocking Lish’s view of the human. He heard her clicking in frustration, slamming the glass again, uselessly. It never budged. Ruby would likely pay for that later, but he needed a break from her intense, prying gaze.

It was several more minutes before Ruby composed himself enough to keep working, slowing his breath and fixing his clothes. Lish had bunched up his undergarments so painfully, it took him several tries to readjust the fabric until it sat right again. He zipped up his jumpsuit again, redoing the protective clasp on the zipper. Thankfully, she hadn't ripped the fabric this time.

There were other cages to attend to. Other trophies. Other pets. Lish always came first, and was the most challenging by far. She was demanding. Ruby tried not to think about what happened with the other aliens. Some seemed to be as intelligent as him, like Lish. Others were more bestial. Lish seemed to be the only real, permanent resident. 

Some stayed for a long time, providing entertainment until they broke. Sometimes, their captor would fight them. Over and over again - healing and re-injuring the captives until they simply collapsed. Sometimes, they broke in other ways. Sometimes, the aliens just vanished. 

They all shared only one thing: the metal collar.

There had been other humans once. They disappeared, one by one. Ruby used to cry for them. He didn’t get so attached now.

He had nearly completed his work shoveling the waste, feeding, and cleaning up after the alien menagerie when a lone beep came from the metal collar around his neck. It had reconnected to its owners gauntlet. From elsewhere, a shrill song pierced the perpetual hum of the ship. Lish, crying out in excitement. Their Jailor was on board again.

Ruby didn’t turn when he heard the reinforced metal door to the larger atrium grind open. Didn’t react as the heavy footfalls of their captor made their way across the room - past Ruby and straight to Lish’s cage. Her harmonizing trills grew louder, more frantic. The glass cage door slid open and slammed shut. Ruby tried to block out the noise as the pair began fucking away.

He didn’t want to draw their attention, and when he was sure they were thoroughly distracted, he made a dash for his own cell. The human glanced longingly at the large, imposing metal door blocking him from the rest of the ship. It always closed fast as soon as their captor was though. He’d tried to get it open before, toying with the keypad. Now, his collar electrified him if he got too close. He only left if their captor allowed it, and the huge, muscular alien kept him under close watch.

Even as he lay in his own cell, on one of six bunk beds, Lish’s erotic noises didn’t stop. They’d been at it for awhile now. Ruby threw an arm over his eyes, forcing himself into darkness. Maybe Lish would kill him - the Jailor. But he knew she wouldn’t. She liked him - or liked being spoiled by him.

Tomorrow would be the same. With the Jailor back, treatments would resume - changing Ruby from the inside out. Once, Ruby had been a technician at a laboratory. Whatever the alien was doing to him would have been fascinating - some sort of gene therapy. Hybridization. He’d never even dreamed it possible back on Earth. Now, it just made Ruby feel sick. Physically and mentally. Could he even call himself human anymore? He didn’t want to know.

Chapter Text

[Request incoming . . .]
[Retrieved. Displaying:]

[File: 2318-002]
[Target: Ai’dqaarll aka ‘Jailor’]

[Repeated code violations. Murder. Illicit harvesting of hunting grounds. Rereleasing altered prey into territories. Refusal to submit for honorable punishment. Bad Blood.]

[Ai’dqaarll is in coalition with several disavowed clans, but appears to be operating alone. He has possession of gene-splicing technology and has been refining it - several of his creations have shown up on protected grounds, wreaking havoc during chiva and kv'var alike.]

[Long range scanners picked up his ship leaving the atmosphere of S8G - Crolla at approximately 19:00.]

[Bring this traitor down. He is to be returned to Yautja Prime for questioning and ritual execution. The menagerie is of interest - hunt the worthy, cull the rest. Return their remains to Yautja Prime. Good hunting.]

Three aliens were crammed into the cockpit. Two sat cross-legged, reading the data pad together, while another sat in the pilot’s seat. They were aboard a scout-class ship, far smaller and lighter than the standard cruiser the bulk of their clan was packed into this time of year. 

And though the mother ship felt crowded outside of the breeding season, nothing compared to this. They were mei’hswei - brothers, and all adult, blooded yautja, more than two meters tall each. Even without their typical armor, they were bulky - weighing in at more than 200 kilograms of sculpted muscle and dense bone. The aliens brushed against each other as they shifted.

To either side of them were walls covered floor to ceiling with a tangle of cables, removable drives and jury-rigged parts. Colorful lights twinkled in the exposed crevices, displaying the status of different areas of the ship. In front of the pilot’s chair, an overly-complicated console was maintaining their speed and direction. Presently, the ship was at full capacity - steering through the outer rim of their clan's territory on a return journey. They’d been away from their home for nearly two weeks.

E’taol, the youngest - but only by a few days, was the smallest of the three. His skin was counter-shaded - his belly, chest, inner arms and thighs were light and cream-colored, fading into a deeper, rust-color on his back and outer extremities. Like many members of his clan, he had stripes - E’taols were a dark pitch, contrasting against the lighter skin in dense waves. He liked his stripes, he thought they were handsome - something he was proud to hold over his older brothers’ heads. 

In fact, E’taol thought he was the most attractive of the three. What wasn’t to like? He had a dramatic scar across his chest and stomach. His talons were long and pristine, and he kept his quills well-trimmed along his chest and arms. He flossed his mandibles daily, and he was strong. Strong enough to hunt his own kind - the outcasts and traitors. The Bad Bloods.

“New orders,” came a deep rumble from the pilot’s seat. The eldest brother by one week, Bachi, turned his head to face them, staring at the pair on the floor with his one good eye. He was silhouetted against the reinforced viewport looking out into empty space, though even in the dark, a yautja could see his heat signature clearly. “The hunt continues.”

“I am getting tired of being crammed together like this,” Itull, the middle brother, complained openly. This was typical of him. “There’s hardly enough room on this ship for us, let alone another prisoner.”

Bachi clicked his mandibles in irritation.

“The file comes direct from our sire,” Bachi emphasized, returning to the ship’s controls. “And besides, we are to bring Jailor’s ship back with us. You can stretch your legs on that.”

“As long as we hunt something we get to keep,” Itull tossed the data pad into E’taol’s lap, finding something new to complain about. He laid flat on the floor. “I’d like to have a trophy to show for all this effort. Alive doesn’t have to mean intact, yes?”

Bachi chuckled. “I’m sure the Matriarch wouldn’t mind if three of his tusks are missing. One for each of us, if you earn it.”

“What about these experiments?” E’taol chimed in, tapping one claw against the screen in his hand. “It says ‘return their remains,’ does that mean all the remains?”

“Unclear,” Bachi retorted. “See what speaks to you. Perhaps none of them will feel worthy.”

His half-brothers looked similar to him, countershaded skin interspersed with stripes. But Bachi and Itull’s were duller than E’taols. Bachi had a wild look about him - his hair-like tendrils were longer, sometimes tangled if he neglected them too long. He rarely trimmed his quills, and his facial scars gave him a perpetual scowl. His one good eye glowed yellow in the dim of the ship. E’taol thought he looked very much like their sire.

Itull, on the other hand, more resembled his mother. He was the largest of the three, easily a head taller than E’taol. His head tendrils were also longer than the younger brother, and he had bright, green eyes. He bore few scars, much to his dismay, but kept his appearance otherwise neat. During their last hunt, he asked E’taol for grooming tips. It didn’t feel natural for him, but there was someone he was trying to impress.

Each of them was born from different mothers, but they had been raised together their entire lives. Their mothers were all mates. They had trained together, completed their chiva together. Met their sire together. Now, they hunted as blooded Enforcers for their clan.

E’taol had heard of other clans who scorned familial ties. But that was their code. He couldn’t imagine being forced to go their separate ways. They were always stronger together, and celebrated each others successes. Nothing could change that.

Bachi tapped away at the controls, reprogramming the autopilot to take them within range of Jailor’s last known location.

“We should get ready - it is only two standard hours until we reach the planet Crolla,” Bachi growled, lifting his huge form from the pilot’s seat. “The trail is hot.”

S8G - Crolla was a desolate hole. It was practically void of life - what little water it had was frozen at the caps. The surface was composed mainly of fluorite, giving the rocky planet a distinctive, purple color. But that was the most interesting fact about it. It had little game worth eating, and no targets for a proper kv’var.

Bachi brought them into a high orbit around the planet, while E’taol and Itull began to work the scanners - searching for any signature of their prey or his ship.

They’d taken their time getting ready, and after swapping pilots for a spell, all three of the yautja were fully armored for battle. Most yautja favored minimal coverage, opting for only a few protective plates for modesty alone. Showing more skin meant putting yourself at higher risk, and was considered more honorable. But a battle in space afforded no such luxuries.

Their armor was airtight, able to recycle a brief air supply in the event of a breach, and covered the yautja from head to toe. Their long, hair-like tendrils were tucked into their neck guards. The inner lining was tight, like a second skin, and as the brothers keyed on the scanners, it moved with them unimpeded by its own heft. The metal exterior was a mix of form and function - composed of many interlocking pieces that soundlessly slid over one another. Each layer gripped the yautja musculature, and while it lacked in the flair of armor for a traditional kv’var, it was still intimidating. 

Bachi already wore his biohelmet - the smooth mask wrapping around to the back of his head, completing the seal. Only one eye glowed yellow, showing no emotion - just cold steel. Itull’s lay at his feet, squeezed in place by the yautja’s ankles. A month ago, he’d decided to paint a thick stripe of blue across the eyes. The paint was already scratched. E’taol’s helm was un-decorated, much to the middle brother’s dismay, and he carried it under one arm.

“He landed here, that’s for certain,” Itull shouted over the hum of the engines while Bachi stabilized their orbit. They were passing over a large crater - it was only a few hundred years old, and formed huge, jagged mountains at its outermost circumference. “I’m picking up a radiation signature that’s consistent with his ship. Looks like he’s still flying that old hunk of junk.”

“It was a luxury model at the time,” Bachi muttered defensively. “And it’s reliable.”

“He was a scientist, not an ship-nut,” Itull rolled his eyes, and E’taol could feel an argument brewing. “I don’t care if it’s reliable, engines can only run for so long.”

Bachi loved ships - tinkering with them, staying up to date on the latest designs. Their own vessel had been modified heavily under the eldest’s hands. He wouldn’t miss an opportunity to try to flex his knowledge. And Itull loved to tease.

“Why would Jailor risk coming back into our territory?” E’taol butt in, trying to change the subject. “He would have known he’d be detected. What’s here?” He nodded towards the planet outside.

“He’s half-mad,” Itull said plainly, apparently uninterested. “We can speculate, but we’ll never know for sure.”

“It just seems like such a risk,” E’taol grumbled, not willing to let it go. “Perhaps he plans to come willingly.”

“I hope not!” Itull laughed, clicking his mandibles, and the other two joined in.

A loud ping on the scanners silenced the chattering trio, and Itull hunched over the monitor again.

“Unbelievable,” he said, voice flaring excitedly. “He’s just left, I’ve got his trail. Sending you the trajectory correction now. Looks like he’s headed back into deep space.”

The ship surged forward, mimicking the eagerness of the brothers. The planet vanished from the viewport, turning into empty space. They braced themselves against the machinery until gravity evened back out.

“How are things looking, mei’hswei?” E’taol asked, clambering next to the pilot seat and resting a hand on the leather back.

“Less than four minutes until we’re on top of him,” Bachi patted the console proudly, like praising a youngling. “I’ll anchor him immediately - try to surge the power and knock out his shields. Prep for boarding!”

E’taol nodded, glad they had gotten armored in advance. He made for the rear of the ship, passing Itull by the sensor array. He looked tentatively towards E’taol.

“I suppose you get to board first this time, little brother,” he teased, but beat a fist against E’taol’s chest armor. The smaller yautja punched him back. All in good sport. He lifted his mask to his face, purring as the familiar hiss sealed the metal against his skin. The view screen flared to life, electronics whirring smoothly.

The ship was equipped with two boarding pods, but could only fire one at a time. It was risky business, and E’taol always felt a hint of trepidation when he used them. There was no shame in fear - it was an instinct. It let him know a prey was worthy - for the best hunts involved high risk. But that made victory all the sweeter.

E’taol reminded himself of these things as his brother smirked at him, packing him into the cramped pod. He wasn’t sure how to two larger yautja ever fit - the metal squeezed him shoulder to shoulder. His breathing hitched. Itull laughed.

“See you soon, mei’hswei.” His brother’s mandibles curled into a smile. Then the hatch on the pod was slammed, and darkness descended. A dull red emergency light flicked on. He could still faintly hear the shouting of his brothers, and then bolts engaging to fully seal the door. A small comfort from the vacuum of space. The ship was never quiet, but he could hear the machinery strain and groan in his skull where his head rested against the cool metal. The yautja forced himself to take slow, even breaths. The air already tasted stale. 

Another loud groan in the hull rattled E’taol’s senses. He tried to reach for the commlink button on his mask, but his arms were pinned down in the tight space. Sweat beaded on his brow. There was more shouting, but it was too muffled. Another loud blast - it must have been the ships cannon.

Two rhythmic thuds slammed into the metal on the door side. It was Itull, readying the pod. There was another groan and E’taol felt the movement of the ship around him. Bachi was a good pilot - the best of the three. The yautja loved to watch his older brother in action, hands dancing over the controls in perfect concentration. He started to bang his helmet against the back wall. The anticipation was driving him crazy. He wanted to know what was going on out there, see Jailor’s ship. How big was it really? From the data pad, it seemed like it would be a mid-sized cruiser, typically housing a dozen yautja. But Jailor was supposedly alone.

The machinery surrounding him began to surge, and E'taol braced himself for what was coming. It didn't help - his stomach lurched as the gravity dropped from under his feet. The interior of the ship rushed by, and then silence, except his own quiet retching. It was over before he realized.

Bachi's aim was true. With an shrill screech of metal biting metal, the pod connected with the enemy hull. The entire capsule shook with a ferocity that rattled the yautja’s bones. E’taol braced himself as best he could, flexing in the tight space and drawing his legs to his chest, waiting. He held his breath.

As suddenly as it started, the screeching stopped. Machinery whirred around him, anchoring the pod in place, now embedded all the way through the hull. There was a rush of air movement, one last shake, and a loud buzzer came from a speaker somewhere over E’taols head.

He growled in satisfaction, riding his adrenaline high and threw his feet against the base of the pod, pushing off the walls to kick it with all the strength he could muster. It flew open, slamming against the deck of the ship as the yautja erupted from the tiny capsule and into the new air of Jailor’s ship. 

Without wasting a beat, he clicked open the claws of his twin wrist blades, prepared for immediate fighting. His mind raced as he whipped his head, checking in all directions for hostiles. But the corridor was clear. It appeared abandoned, even. He slowed himself for a second scan.

The pod had connected with some sort of maintenance hallway. Everything was dark, except for the occasional shorting emergency light, bathing everything in a ominous, dim red like the pod he just exited. The guts of the ship were visible, dozens of winding vents and pipes disappearing between junctions in the wall. There were a few forgotten crates, rolls of dusty tubing, and broken science equipment E’taol couldn’t hope to name. Distantly, a breach alarm blared, and another boom from deep in the ship shook the hull. The battle still raged outside.

E’taol began to move, picking a direction based on gut alone and cursed himself for not asking Bachi for the ship layout. There hadn't been time. He tapped his wrist gauntlet as he walked, hoping to get a message back to his brothers, but it was no use. The brief power surge knocked out Jailor’s shields long enough to get inside, but it looked like they were back online. His local transmissions were foreign to the ship, and were blocked.

It didn’t matter. He had a head start on Itull, being the first to launch. If the power surged again, his brother’s boarding pod would follow. E’taol hoped to capture Jailor before then.

At last, the yautja rounded the long, drawn out corner and came across the access door. He kicked it in, bending the flimsy metal in its socket before it could slide open, and shoved through. This looked more like a proper hallway - the walls were smooth and finished, lacking the exposed electronics and vents of the maintenance hallway. The polished, curved shaped of the hall supports felt familiar. Bachi could have told him the similarities between later models, diving into a tirade about the intersecting influence of brutalism and traditional metalwork. He could already feel the headache as he walked, still scanning for any life or movement. E’taol grumbled. He itched to fight.

The ship rocked again, throwing E’taol against the side. Bachi was still having fun, it seemed.

E’taol passed several uninteresting doors, likely leading to living areas of the ship. He recognized a locker room, various unoccupied sleeping quarters, and an armory. He noted the location of a research chamber, only peeking in briefly to scan for his quarry, but there was no sign of the Bad Blood. The room was cluttered with operating tables and equipment. He left it alone, for now. Another major shake in the hull, and the lights went out, electrical humming going completely quiet. E’taol clicked in annoyance.

Another power surge. Itull wouldn’t be far behind. But the ship was huge, just getting from one end to another was losing him precious time.

E’taol stopped in his tracks as he passed a large, elaborate metal door to his left. He clicked in satisfaction. This room, though locked tight, could only be one thing - a trophy chamber. He held there for a moment. Power was still out, and the ship was calm - Jailor might not be at the helm anymore. If he couldn’t find his target in this maze of a ship, perhaps he could draw Jailor to him.

He clicked his mandibles in satisfaction at his own genius. Normally, a yautja wouldn’t dare damage the trophies of another. It was of the highest dishonor - to disrespect the skill of a rival in such a underhanded manner. But a Bad Blood had no honor to respect, and trophies taken outside of the Code were meaningless. He traced his claws along the edges of the door. It was sealed tight. No matter - he was an Enforcer. He had his ways.

He stepped towards the door scanner and crouched, tearing the maintenance panel aside with one hand. With the other, he grabbed the fistful of wires powering the scanner and sliced them with his wrist blades. He looked expectantly to the door. It didn’t budge. Nothing was that easy - Jailor had to protect his most prized possessions.

E’taol’s wrist blades retracted and he guided a few choice wires to his own gauntlet, connecting the raw ends with a port near his thumb. The view screen flared, and he tapped a claw against it, selecting his custom codebreaker program. Bachi had his ships; Itull was the strongest in melee - both respectable focuses for a male yautja. It took the two a while to come around to the E’taol’s interest in data and electronics. Better left to the scientists, they said. But E’taol wasn’t deterred. Bachi began to appreciate it after E’taol’s power reroutes helped him hit their enemies harder, without compromising precious energy for long expeditions.

After a moment, the program blinked, signaling its silent completion. He was in control. The yautja tapped the input, and the huge door shuddered, cracking open at last.

The trophy room was not what E’taol expected. An Elder like Jailor should have had hundreds, even thousands of skulls from successful kv’var. Or hides, processed and tanned for display of beautiful fur, scale or exoskeleton. 

Instead, the walls were lined with rows and rows of glass tanks. Vivariums, aquariums, microhabitats - some smaller than the yautja’s hand. Others were embedded in the walls, stretching from floor to ceiling. There were hundreds of them, thick tangles of cords winding in every gap to provide power to each individual unit. 

The room was buzzing with activity, the view screen in E’taol’s mask vivid with the heat signatures of the living collection. And it was loud - a cacophony of bestial cries and unknown languages overwhelmed the yautja’s translator. He couldn’t understand a thing.

The raging battle outside must have dislodged several of the cages, smashed to shards on the ship’s floor, scattering their contents. A few aquatic creatures lay helpless in a shallow puddle, twitching. Something tiny leapt from a partially smashed terrarium, spilling sand. He sliced it in half mid-air.

This was going to be so much better than smashing skulls.

He strode confidently into the open atrium, skin prickling in anticipation. Further inside, he could see more of the larger, elaborate cages. He could recognize a holding cell - no matter how much trimming made it more habitable. Live trophies. Prisoners. Pets. It was wrong. 

An honorable yautja recognized that death was better than this. These creatures should have been killed at the end of their kv’var. Warrior’s deaths - chosen and pursued by the hunter out of respect for their unique strengths and cunning. To capture them alive, extend their suffering in a cage - it was despicable. He longed to rend Jailor’s head from his body, but his crimes went beyond this. Killing Jailor wasn’t his place.

He stopped as what was left of a huge, glass wall. Inside appeared to be a lush, vibrant jungle. He recognized a few of the plants from Yautja Prime, his home planet. Power was still out, so no light came from the cage. Glass shards littered the floor beneath his boots. Something big was loose.

The cacophony of creatures hadn’t ceased, still echoing off the metal ceiling, but there was something else. A droning buzz underlying it all. 

Something pounded against the glass of the intact cage adjacent to him, and he whipped his head toward the noise. A bright heat signature flared in his vision - slamming its fists against the glass containment. 

A human. It was very, very far from home. 

He cocked his head to the side curiously, staring at the alien in the glass. He’d never actually seen a human before. All the ones he heard of lived on Yautja Prime with the females, and even they were a rarity.

This one was on the short side - just over a meter and a half. He looked malnourished, pale skin drawn and pulled by years in space. His hair tendrils were thin and numerous, covering the entirety of his head in a messy, unkept coat. The same short fuzz coated his chin and jaw. Humans had no mandibles, which was strange.  

He stared closer, investigating the alien’s mouth through the glass. It was moving quickly - some sort of fleshy appendage inside rapidly changing shapes. E’taol realized then, the creature must be speaking - trying to communicate with the yautja. Curiously, he calibrated his translator for human languages specifically. The muffled shouts morphed into recognizable words.

“-Lish, m-di!” The human screamed, apparently staring at something besides the yautja. But it all came together too late.

E’taol hit the floor hard, skidding across the broken glass and slammed into the far wall. He roared, jumping back to his feet, and turned to meet his enemy. But when he looked ahead he saw nothing. Only the bright signature of the trapped human, and cold metal walls.

He felt something wrap itself around his ankle, yanking the huge yautja off balance and he fell again to the ground, slamming hard into the deck. The glass crunched under his armor and a horrible, wet roaring sound came from something unseen ahead of him.

“-Lish, stop it!” the human kept shouting, pounding its fists against the glass. “It can get me - us - out of here. Dammit - Lish! Listen to me!”

E’taol stood again, making an experimental swipe into the empty air ahead of him. Something was there - that much was obvious. He just couldn’t see it. He clicked, far to pleased with himself. This was what he wanted: worthy prey.

“Lish,” he played the human’s own recorded voice back into the air mockingly, and assumed a threatening stance - more guarded and ready for the next strike. The Jailor was gone from his mind - hot blood and adrenaline taking over. “Lish.”

Chapter Text

Lish began her escape when the first salvo hit the ship, shaking the entire hull and cracking the glass of her cage. Ruby had been laying in bed, brooding, when he was tossed from his bunk by the force of impact. The entire menagerie came alive with panicked noise and alien cries. He stood up just in time to see Lish pounding her huge mass against the glass. The cracks were growing.

Ruby dashed for his door, slamming his thumb against the door pad. There was no response. The entire cell block had been shut down, the power diverted elsewhere in the ship. The human shouted in frustration, kicking his bare foot against the hard glass. It crumpled and he gasped in pain. Back at his bunk, he pulled on the rest of his clothes and boots. He needed to calm Lish down. She was scared.

Another crash jerked Ruby’s body around, but he braced against the frame of his bunk. His tools rolled across the floor, banging noisily. Lish’s rhythmic slamming continued, and the human pressed his body flush to the glass, straining to see inside her cage. The cracks kept growing - it wouldn’t be long now. Lish was strong.

He jammed his fingers against the door controls again, tapping them over and over, as if that would change the outcome. It was no use. The power hadn’t returned. He heard the shattering of glass and Lish came fully into view.

“Lish, hey, easy” Ruby tapped the glass, creating a mask of calmness. “It’s okay. Your n’yaka-de is fine. He’s handling it.” She whipped around, turning to face Ruby though the undamaged panes of his own cell. She was terrifying - all the layers of her body pineconed out, her divided face wide open and snarling. But she lumbered over, pressing her golden glowing tendrils to the glass, trying in vain to communicate back. Without contact, all she could do was buzz angrily.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m safe,” he said, leaning on Lish’s protective feelings towards him. She seemed to visibly relax at that, but remained volatile. He found himself dancing around her emotions again, trying to predict what she wanted to hear. “Are you okay?”

She nodded slowly, though he could see rich, purple sap leaking from the shallow cuts on her sides from dragging herself though the broken shards.

“Can you get me out of here?” He pleaded. “The pad won’t work, I’m trapped.” Lish turned to the glass door, feeling it with her vine-like tendrils. She tried to pry one lithe finger in the gap between the frame, but it was still too thick. Another tendril tested where the glass met the ceiling. “It’s okay, keep trying.”

Ruby kept up his soothing words despite the continued rattling of the ship. It seemed to be helping keep the alien calm, though her nervous eyes kept darting around the wider chamber. More movement darted around in the darkness of the emergency lights, but if anything else had escaped, it gave Lish a wide berth.

The familiar thudding of the main door quieted the cacophony for only a second, and Lish gave an expectant trill before cutting herself short. Something unknown had stepped into the chamber. Ruby pressed his face against the glass again, straining to see the doorway, but it was no use. Lish’s movements became slow and purposeful, and she made no sound as she slipped away from Ruby’s cage, retracting her vines and climbing up the opposite wall. 

She wouldn’t have acted this way with their captor - her eyes were locked on an intruder.

Ruby followed suit, slinking back into the shadows and crouched, listening as a few, heavy footsteps started to make their way around the room. Whatever it was had a leisurely pace, apparently content to take its time investigating the creatures trapped within each cell. A huge shadow passed in front of an emergency light, casting across where Ruby hid.

When at last it passed Ruby’s cage, the human was stunned. The creature was bipedal, and though it was massive, it had a humanoid shape about it. He was reminded of their captor, though no doubt this was a different alien entirely. For one thing, it was shorter.

This one was armored to the teeth - large, interlocking plates of mirror-like metal mail protected its limbs and wrapped tightly around them like a second skin, moving soundlessly. Its broad back was similar, detailed metalwork mimicking the layout of muscles and emphasizing the physical prowess of its wearer. The spine guard in particular stood out, emerging at the base of the neck guard and tracing along the body to the wearer’s hips. It bore no weapons, but instead had a set of two, duel-pronged claws erupting from the top of each mechanical gauntlet. Already, one was dripping with viscous liquid - some sort of alien blood.

And yet, it wasn’t their captor. Something else had boarded the ship and gotten the door open. They had to have come from somewhere. Ruby’s panicked breathing hitched, and he started to formulate a plan. 

Ruby was not a engineer. Nor a spacefarer. Even on Earth, that had been reserved for the wealthy and exorbitant - a brief pleasure cruise around the planet. Nothing like the harrowing deep-space voyages he’d endured since his kidnapping. But the human was attentive. All that wandering around at Jailor’s heels, carrying research equipment or being hauled from one operating table to the next, had given Ruby time to look around.

He committed, stepping back to the glass, and pounded his fist against it. The unknown alien whipped around, as if expecting a fight, before giving Ruby a curious look. He almost grinned at the sight of it - cocking its head to the side. A very human expression. Communication seemed increasingly feasible.

“Hey, big guy,” he shouted, taking the same tone he did with Lish. “Are you with Jailor?”

The biped hunched down, coming to eye level with the human. Its masked face showed no emotion, but it was fixed on Ruby. The two eyes glowed gold, eerily similar to Lish. He gulped, briefly regretting his plan, but quickly resumed. He punched a fist against the glass, indicating.

“Get me out of here,” his breath was fogging up. Five centimeters of prison and protection. “I-I can bring him to you.” A lie.

The monster cocked his head again, apparently listening. Or just staring - it hadn’t made a sound. Ruby felt a pang of dismay - this alien might not even understand him. But the wall behind them stirred, and a shrill buzzing brought the human back to his senses. Lish was still tucked into the shadows, and she had heard everything.

She trilled angrily, and Ruby shouted a warning too late.  The huge plant-alien pounced on the monster from above to grab hold of it before tossing it away from Ruby’s cage. Its armor squealed as it scraped across the floor, coming to a halt against a distant wall.

Lish turned to Ruby, her delicate face splitting open into that horrid maw and she roared in anger. Ruby recoiled on instinct, but Lish left him alone, keeping her attention on the intruder. She whipped her vines forward, swatting and grabbing at its legs to keep it off-balance.

“Lish, stop it!” the human threw himself against the glass again, disregarding the fear in his body. “It can get me - us - out of here. Dammit - Lish! Listen to me!”

In a rush, the monstrous biped ran forward, slashing through the air in front of the cage. It missed wildly, and Lish threw her body into it, slamming against glass. The metal armor sang again, and a star-shaped crack appeared where they impacted the cell. Lish was larger than this intruder, and having her enemy pinned, she began to whale against it.

Vine tendrils curled around the other, constricting their grip and the stranger alien beat back. It retracted the bladed gauntlet, twisting an arm free and punching into Lish’s abdomen before extending the blades again. They easily punctured her soft flesh, and she roared, her rage building.

Ruby stared in awe and fear at the display of strength before him - an all-out brawl between two massive aliens. If not for the armor, Lish would have ended it, but the intruder was holding out, slashing every time it wrenched an arm free. Lish’s whole mouth was wrapped around the alien’s mask, trying to yank it off to finish it. The glass was splatted with purple blood.

The human tried to compose himself. The cracks in the glass were growing as Lish beat the intruder against it. He had to be ready - Ruby had no armor, no protection other than the jumpsuit. If the fight spilled into his cage, he wouldn’t stand a chance against any wayward blows. But he’d have to take that chance. Not waiting a moment longer, he scrambled to his toolkit, pulling on the protective half-mask and arming himself with the only large, metal tool he had - a long, pronged rake. It looked pathetic - a zookeeper’s last stand. But it was all he had. 

A new color had appeared on the glass - luminescent green mixing with opaque purple. Lish had broken through.

He positioned himself next to the wall, preparing for the glass to burst, when Lish called off her assault, making distance between herself and the monster with a smooth leap. Ruby stared in shock, why had she stopped? She had the upper hand. Lish met his gaze and glared, and the human’s heart sank. No - she wouldn’t break the glass. Not now, knowing his intent to run away from her.

The intruder regained its composure. The neon blood seeped slowly from unseen cracks in the armor, and it clutched its abdomen. But it didn’t give chase, instead pressing its back to the glass again, and looking around hurriedly. 

“Lish,” the scratchy recorded voice crackled out from the mask again. It sounded damaged. The monster beneath clicked and growled.

Lish grabbed its leg with a vine again, pulling it down. It hadn’t even reacted to the incoming assault, though Ruby could see the creature was primed for an attack. As though he couldn’t even see it.

Ruby understood then. He’d suspected Jailor couldn’t actually see Lish - she seemed extraordinarily good at sneaking up on him, even when she was in broad light. The human had watched it happen during the intimacy he was made to share with the two. He’d never thought much of it, to busy worrying about himself in those moments. But if this alien and their captor were the same species, then the intruder would not be able to see her either.

At this rate, Lish would kill the yautja. But it would buy him time to get away.

Ruby returned to the sealed door as the brawl resumed, Lish pressing the attack but careful to not impact the glass, while the monstrous alien used the cracked surface to defend its back against an invisible enemy.

The damage had stretched the entirety of the wall, creating weaknesses throughout. Ruby took the butt end of the rake, flipping it in his hands, and began prodding where the wall and the door met. When a sprinkle of glass fell away, he flipped the rake again, cramming the prongs into the gap in the frame. With one leg braced against the glass, he threw his body weight against the handle, using it as a lever to wrench the doorway wider. He couldn’t help a panicky laugh of triumph as he felt the mechanisms start to tease open.

It was working, and as he twisted and jerked his weight around, the door split wider, forced to slide aside. Beyond the door, the battle was still raging, Lish pacing along the opposite wall to mask her position. But the intruders aim was improving, and his wild slashes had started to connect with the alien vines, sending flecks of purple blood into the air.

With a final shove, the human felt the servos pop, and the sliding door opened, a few chunks of glass falling as the rake clattered to the floor. Ruby stumbled, throwing his hands in front to catch himself. 

One hand caught the edge of the glass wall, and his gritted his teeth as the sharp edges gored into his flesh. When he pulled back, spots of warm, red blood began to bubble on his palm. The human cursed, but didn’t pause, gritting his teeth as he grabbed the rake and sprinted for the metal door to the rest of the ship. To his delight, it was still ajar.

Lish screamed in anger behind him, and he heard her heavy body begin to give chase. He braced himself for the electric shock as he closed in, the collar around his neck still powered. But as he breached the gap in the door and pushed though, it never came. The collar didn’t beep in warning, and remained silent and he took deep, heaving breaths, legs moving faster than they had in years.

He didn’t stop to think about Lish, or the other alien. Or any of the other creatures trapped in the menagerie. Ruby was out - unsupervised. Uncontrolled. His hand was slick with blood, dripping along the rake handle and on to the floor, but he took off. He wasn’t going to get another chance, so he made for the escape pods.

E’taol’s breathing was ragged, and his ribs ached and ground together as he moved. The alien - Lish, the human had called it, had given him a beating. Though his armor was tough, the crushing force of the huge body had already dented it in several places, and he knew it had punctured the lining. He could see his glowing blood spattered along the plates.

And yet, he still could not see his enemy. It was cold-blooded, most likely, and was the same temperature as the ship’s air. This was a known weakness of his species - and had been the downfall of thousands of warriors. But the prospect of death didn’t deter the yautja. Instead, he was reveling in the battle. Even as Lish toyed with him, his senses felt sharp and hot with excitement. They were solely focused on one another. Predator and deadly prey - a true kv’var.

That is, until the human had broken its containment, and Lish’s angry roars turned pleading. It stopped its battering, and E’taol heard the creature pursue the human out of the trophy room. He grumbled his dissatisfaction, ready to give chase, when the view screen of his mask got a pop-up. It was Itull - trying to call him. He hit accept on his gauntlet and headed for the jammed metal door.

“Gkaun-yte mei’hswei,” Itull said, using a familial greeting. “I am on board, have you found Jailor?”

“M-di, no,” E’taol grumbled, getting into a crouch as he re-entered the hall. He dragged a claw along the floor. Warm spots of blood from the human formed a trail the direction the yautja originally came from, deeper into the ship and away from the helm. He smeared the slick blood between his fingers. “There’s prey loose on board. A n’kar queen, I think, and an ooman. Maybe others.” 

“Pauk. Alive? How did Jailor capture a n’kar?” Itull’s said in between panting breaths. It sounded like he was running.

“Unclear. They both bore slave collars,” E’taol mused as he picked up his own pace. The plant-alien seemed attached to the human, somehow. Where it went, the n’kar would follow. “The ooman spoke a bit of our language.”

“Huh,” Itull seemed taken aback. “Is it blooded?”

“No clan markings, I don’t think it’s one of us.” E’taol dwelled on the human’s face. It had been terribly gaunt, lacking in muscle and fat. Yet the human shattered the door mechanism with a farmer’s implement, prying it apart. Five centimeters of glass was nothing to scoff at, even damaged. The human was far stronger than it appeared. And fast - it closed the distance to the trophy room door in just a few seconds. Somehow, it didn’t add up.

“Another pet, then. It’ll have to be culled,” Itull said before holding a silence between them. “My boarding pod landed near the helm, you handling the n’kar?”

“Sei-i,” E’taol confirmed as he rounded a corner, electing not to share his mind. This was his prey. “Good hunting.”

Ruby had to double back twice, lost in the corridors of the ship. He’d been outside the menagerie plenty for menial labor or operations, but never to explore and get his bearings. Jailor always made sure the human stayed at his heel, never wandering off. The human only had his memories to rely on.

On the second turn-around, he saw Lish slinking down the far end of the corridor. He cursed, ducking out of sight behind a support beam in the wall as she turned, following his trail. Ruby held his breath, expecting to feel her vines grab his limbs and pull him from cover, but the moment never came. Her angry buzzing faded out, and Ruby took the chance to dart into an adjacent hall.

At some point, power returned to the vessel, though the familiar lurch of gravity from the engines starting never happened. Powered, but adrift. Or locked in place. Ruby put it out of his mind. He hoped the ship fell to pieces.

His hand had begun to ache, waning adrenaline making way for throbbing pain. It was still bleeding - Ruby hadn’t had time to stop and attend to the wound. But at least the blood had slowed. The red slick coated the handle of his makeshift weapon, still clutched tight in both hands.

At last, he passed a familiar looking operating room. He'd been here a hundred times, always with Jailor. Looking in, the sight of it made him sick to his stomach, and reflexively itched his inner elbow where he'd been stuck with IVs for years on end. Under his sleeve, the skin was scarred and permanently bruised from the repeated punctures. The feeling passed, and he reoriented himself in the ship. Soon, he was running for the escape pods.

The hallway resembled any other - adding to the maze-like confusion, save for the pair of round hatches on one wall. Each hatch bore a view port, but it was too high to see though. The human held back a cry of relief; it would only draw Lish to his location. One hand un-clenched from the rake and started to press the unknown mechanisms and buttons adjacent to the hatch, waiting for something to work.

The servos whined after a particular careless button press, and an unpleasant buzzer sounded. On a screen above the hatch, alien letters flashed in rejection.

“Fuck, no,” Ruby cursed out loud, panic rising. “Work, dammit.” He jammed the buttons again, but the response was the same. This hatch would not open. Ruby dropped the rake and leapt up, grabbing the ledge of the hatch viewport and hoisting himself to eye level. He could see though the glass layers into the small escape pod within, but immediately discerned the problem. Something had damaged the pod - a large hole on the opposite side opened up into endless, black space. Bits of shredded hull and electronics littered the floor, starting to float just beyond the ship.

Ruby dropped down, swearing again and ran for the other pod, clambering up to that window too.

But before his eyes crested the ledge, he felt the familiar sensation of constricting vines wrapping around his abdomen, and he was pulled into the air. They pinned his arms to his sides, and turned him toward their keeper. He was face to face with the angry, vicious maw of Lish.

Dark purple oozed from her gullet. She was breathing hard, her whole body flared out and heaving. She roared, spitting her blood into the human's face as she extended her two, golden tendrils.

“Aseigan,” she snarled. Any sensual tones in her voice were long gone. “You would leave Lish? Leave n’yaka-de?” But despite her anger, the human could sense the sadness though their mental connection. It overwhelmed him.

“Lish, I can’t -“ he choked out. “I-I can’t stay here. I can’t be a prisoner.”

“Ruby is not prisoner,” she insisted, more anger falling away into feelings of hurt. Her mouth started to close again and she looked at him with glossy eyes. “Ruby is our mate. Ruby is special. Don’t leave Lish alone.” But the human shook his head, turning away from her gaze as she nuzzled him.

“You shouldn’t be here either,” he said, disgusted by his own feelings. Lish had been his constant companion. He despised their captor - he knew this. But Lish was the same as him: trapped in this metal hull, at the whim of Jailor. A sexual plaything. What little comfort he’d found here was with her. Even if she was temperamental, pushy and conceited - he couldn’t forget those feelings. She was begging him now.

“Don’t go. Lish will keep Ruby safe,” she dragged them both away from the escape pods, and Ruby struggled to free his arms. “M-di. We go home now. N’yaka-de already mad.”

“This is my choice, Lish,” Ruby wrenched an arm free, grabbing at whatever corner or ledge he could. But his hand was still slick with blood, and slipped. “Let me go!” He placed the bloody hand on her face, pushing off her instead. Red smeared over green skin. But Lish ignored him, muttering across the human’s mind. Her thoughts seemed slurred, somehow.

“We go home,” she repeated, numb to the resisting human. Her movements were increasingly sluggish. When Ruby looked back, an opaque, purple trail went behind them, shining in the emergency lights. Sap-like blood oozed out of the wounds on her abdomen.

Ruby knew Lish would never let him leave, wouldn't drop him to the ground. Not as long as she was alive. Slowly, gently, he wiggled his other arm free. They hadn’t gone far - his metal rake was still on the floor by the first hatch.

With each hand, he began to wrap each golden tendril around his wrists, looping them many times into his hands. Lish leaned into his touch, purring - and intimate gesture they’d done before. It was comforting.

Then, in one quick movement, Ruby grabbed the bunched tendrils in his fists and yanked as hard as he could. The plant-alien let out an ear piercing scream, throwing her body and convulsing in pain. Her mouth splayed open, revealing more of the shining tendrils. Ruby didn’t hesitate, reaching into her open mouth to grab more fistfuls and pulled.

She clamped shut at the intrusion, muffling her own pained cries, but Ruby didn’t let go. He screamed in pain as he pulled against the thorn-like teeth, dragging his forearms out of her mouth as it shredded his flesh. Red blood gushed from within Lish’s mouth, bringing tears to the human’s eyes. The teeth fought him, like a thousand fish hooks, trying to drag him deeper. The pain was nigh unbearable. Still he pulled.

His forearms and hands were a bloody mess. Skin flapped from his arms, peeling back in ragged sheets. The blood dripped all down him and Lish’s front, soaking his jumpsuit. The fistfuls of gold tendrils were dyed crimson. He tugged at them harder, thankful his muscles still worked, and at last, the alien dropped him, her vines going slack and throwing Ruby as she arched back, still howling.

Ruby hit the floor, elbows first, with a wet, sickening smack. He yelped when he felt the crunch of bone on bone, and looked at himself. Something protruded though the bloody flesh on his left arm - his radius, broken to a sharp point. A new wave of adrenaline didn’t let him process it. He’d landed close to the hatch.

The human scrambled to his feet, leaning against the wall to support himself, and grabbed his rake with one tattered hand. He spun around to face Lish, clutching his broken arm close to his body. The other held the tool aloft - its four prongs pointed menacingly towards the still reeling Lish.

When she turned to Ruby again, her eyes held him in white-hot contempt. Rage boiled over, and she flared up again, charging him with all her weight and strength.

Instinct took over, and aseigan Ruby gave way to an old, unfamiliar version. He let the movements come naturally. Bending into a low crouch, Ruby anchored the butt of the rake against his boot and the wall, so it wouldn’t move backwards. He upturned the prongs, and braced the makeshift weapon as best he could. He took a deep breath, facing the animal charging him, glaring into the deep, dark gullet that would chew him apart. And he angled the prongs toward it, guiding them into Lish’s mouth as she impaled herself on the rake, hundreds of kilograms of weight crashing on to the sharp prongs. It buried itself deep.

Sap-like blood oozed out of the open mouth like an unclogged pipe, and Lish twitched upon the prongs, death rattles shaking her whole body. Two gnarled hands reached towards the human, grasping at his face and neck before dropping to the ground, finally stilled.

An alarm was blaring somewhere, but even that seemed quiet without the roars of Lish filling the human’s ears. Cool, purple blood coated his entire front, mixing with his own to create a rich, deep color. His clothes were ruined, arms shredded by Lish’s teeth. Flaps of skin stuck to the ripped black canvas, gooey and hot. His left arm was entirely useless, and he took short, panicked breaths every time it bumped his chest. He tried to contain the pain, compartmentalize it, but it was no use. Ruby let the tears come.

“I’m sorry, Lish,” the human mumbled into the alien’s body as it began to sag, his face already wet with their mixed blood. His sobs were loud and ugly. Even his eyes ached. “I’m so sorry.”

Chapter Text

E’taol witnessed the end - the human’s fatal blow against the n’kar queen. He was invisible to human eyes, hiding in plain sight with the cloaking abilities built into his armor. His hands flexed at his sides, twitching in excitement as the human used the creatures own strength against it in a final stand. It was bloody, it was clever, and it was glorious. 

A perfect kv’var against an ideal target. N’kar were rare in this part of the galaxy - a queen was unheard of. Even in this low state, its trophy would have been prized among the clan’s Elites, buried alongside the hunter on their death in a place of honor. Few yautja could claim such a prize. Even now, he burned with envy. But he pushed it aside - the human did not know their code. It couldn’t be held responsible for a stolen kill.

At first, he wasn’t sure if the human survived - the bright heat signature had gone very still, slumped against the wall of the ship. But he could hear the human’s ragged breathing, heaving with cries of pain and sorrow. It took a long time for the human to stand - it was partially trapped under the n’kar’s massive body. Once it wriggled free, E’taol was able to get a good look at the human again, and he cringed at the gored arms and broken bone.

It was in rough shape - without treatment, E’taol didn’t know if it would survive. And the fight had weakened its spirit. The human’s whole body trembled, overexerted and low on blood.

It was no longer worthy prey. E’taol cursed himself for not going after the human first while it still had fight in it. Before the n’kar had its way, tearing the human apart.

The yautja stepped forward, uncloaking his chameleon-like armor with a dramatic flair. The human was suffering - it was best to end this quickly. This alien warrior deserved a better fate than bleeding out on the floor.

He didn’t get the reaction he expected - the human only gave him a passing glance before turning back to the dead n’kar. Then it spoke.

“She was weakened from your earlier fight,” it muttered sadly, apparently rationalizing with itself. “I-I don’t think she would have made it. This was a mercy, right? She wouldn’t put me down. I had to do it.”

E’taol stopped in his tracks, still two meters from the human. He could have closed it in a second, unsheathed his blades, and cut the human down. The body of Lish lay between them.

“Take her,” the human said, it’s voice growing upset again. It still didn’t look at the yautja. “Your kind likes trophies, right? That’s what we were.” Those words were laced with venom.

But all inflection was lost over the translator embedded in the yautja’s helmet. The words repeated in his native tongue - mechanical and artificial in E’taol’s ears. Emotionless.

Oblivious to the human’s trauma and growing anger, he took a step back.

His blood was beating hard. His face flushed behind his mask, spurred on by the rush of battle. The human wasn’t making sense - no yautja would have parted with such a rare trophy. Not unless they sought recognition from another warrior; not unless they were courting. This had to be a mistake. 

“Go on, take her! Take me!” It wailed, tears coming down his face anew. It was beginning to sway, probably feeling the blood loss. “I’m dead either way. Oh, Lish, you stupid animal. I’m . . .” Its mouth was open, like it had more to say, but the words didn’t sound. Its temperature was dropping, and its eyes started to glaze over.

And then E’taol did close the gap, stepping wide over the fallen n’kar, and catching the human in one arm as it fell. He leaned in, studying closely and cradled the human’s head in his hand. It was still breathing, but standing had been too much for its weakened body. The human was unconscious, for now.

Another call came in - Itull, but E’taol ignored it. He couldn’t speak to his brothers right now - he was too embarrassed. 

The yautja put it out of his mind, trying to focus on the dying human in his arms. Its physiology was beyond him, but he knew blood and bone. He had to staunch the flow. The red oozed out as he laid the human as gently as he could manage on to the floor. The metal further siphoned the human’s failing body heat, but E’taol needed both his hands. It was only for a moment.

The yautja carried no med kit - foolish, so he worked with what was in reach. The human’s clothing was ruined anyway. He tore the jumpsuit open at the chest, revealing bare skin and underclothes, and slipped it off the human’s shoulders, careful to minimize jostling the alien. He tried not to dawdle on the human’s strange skin, covered in patches of bizarre, faded patterns and color. Carefully extending his wrist blades, he cut the fabric at the waist and tore it into long strips of makeshift gauze. As he began wrapping the human’s gored forearms, his gaze wandered again.

Humans, it seemed, were covered in hair. A wispy dark coat could be seen along the surface of the humans outer arms, disappearing where the fresh wounds began. More hair grew atop its chest, disappearing beneath the black underclothes. It contrasted with a patch of narrow, black-tipped quills at the center - no longer than a centimeter or so.

As the yautja began to wrap the second arm, he noted more quills, still deeply embedded in the shredded skin. A few had been lost, anchored in the n’kar queen’s mouth. Perhaps they were defensive.

But the skin! E’taol stared closer at the strange patterns beneath the hairs. The markings were bizarre - there was no symmetry to them. It bore strange shapes on the arms, shoulders and collarbones. As he gently lifted the human into his lap, he saw its back was covered in them, too.

In grim fascination, the yautja condidered how he would’ve preserved this human. He’d seen a handful of their small skulls and fragile spines on show in his sire’s horde, but he’d never even heard of preserving the skin. These markings seemed too unusual to pass up. In his own collection, he would have displayed the tanned hide proudly.

But he dashed the thought from his brain. No, he wouldn’t hunt this human. He needed to understand it. Find out what it knew, and if it meant what it had offered him. This heady feeling was new.

He cursed his own cold metal armor as he tried to curl around the human in his lap. It was still unconscious, though his field bandaging likely bought some time, allowing the body to begin to heal itself.

A call came over his view screen again, and he growled. He’d completely forgotten about Itull. And Jailor. Swiftly, he answered.

“Pauk, there you are,” Itull chided him, and E’taol grumbled in annoyance, still finding his voice. “I’ve got a bead on Jailor. He’s still on board, but he’s fleeing. According to Bachi’s diagrams, he’s headed for the escape pods. Can you route him off?”

“I’m there,” E’taol cracked. If Itull noticed anything, he didn’t tease. His brother was in full focus. “Bachi blew a hole in one of the pods, but the second appears intact.”

“Stay put. I’ll come to you,” Itull panted. He was running again, and the yautja could here his heavy footfalls over the call. Itull was never one for sneaking. “You didn’t pick up before - had me worried. Did you get the n’kar?”

E’taol stared openly at the human nestled in his lap, running a claw though the soft hairs on its head. The purple and red blood coating its skin was drying quickly. He pulled the half-mask off its face, leaving a clean line beneath the eyes and across the nose. It resembled war paint, like on Itull’s helmet.

“No,” he said at last, disappointed. “But it is dead.”

“Bummer - don’t forget about the ooman,” Itull’s tone was one of caution. “Our sire warned us not to underestimate them. The sooner we kill it, the better.”

E’taol muttered his acknowledgment - a bold faced lie. Staring at the human’s parted lips, feeling the slow rise and fall of it’s chest under his heavy hand; he wouldn’t kill this human now. But he didn’t want to explain everything to Itull. He hardly understood it himself.

“Jailor, first,” E’taol redirected. “Everything else is secondary.”

“Hey, you took off after the n’kar - not me,” the yautja could hear his brother’s grin though the call. “Get ready, I’m nearly there.” He hung up, and E’taol stiffened, growling quietly. What could he say to his brother? Itull could beat him in a fight, no doubt about that. If Itull saw the human, he wouldn’t hesitate to finish it off. E’taol didn’t know if he could stop him.

He stood, still carrying the human in his arms. It was helpless - he had to hide it. But the corridor was barren - even slumped in the shadows of a support column, the fading heat signature would give it away to any yautja that turned the corner. Tucking the human underneath the dead n’kar could work, but the human was so weak. It could be crushed, or suffocate. That was too risky.

He held the human tight and took large strides to the undamaged escape pod, keying the open sequence on the pad with one hand. It scanned itself, checking for damage, before a pleasant ring came over the speaker. Still airtight - sloppy work on Bachi’s part, but exactly what E’taol needed. The hatch depressurized, hissing with a rush of air as it slid into a pocket in the wall.

The space was tight, but compared to the boarding pod, the compartment seemed spacious. Everything was well equipped - though out of date. 

E’taol cursed himself for not opening it sooner; an expired medical kit was mounted on the wall. Later, after he dealt with Jailor and Itull, he would fix his sloppy work. There wasn’t time now.

He tore an emergency blanket from the wall, tossing it haphazardly on the floor of the pod and laying the human in it as gently as he could manage. With careful hands, he wrapped the edges of the thin material over the human’s body. Anything to keep the alien warm. He stole one last glance at his charge, messily cocooned, and hesitated again. The yautja didn’t want to leave it alone. He watched carefully - its body rose and fell in time with its shallow breaths. E’taol shook his head. For now, the human was alive. Anything else would have to wait.

With a growl, he keyed the hatch pad again, and it slid closed. No sign of the human remained in the hall, just a mess of blood and the dead n’kar, still impaled on the rake. The yautja almost chuckled - a rake. It was genius. Everything looked like a weapon to him now.

The sound of heavy footfalls from down the hall echoed between the persistent, blaring alarms of the ship. E’taol readied himself, thankful for the mask hiding his expressions. Nothing would get though this door, not as long as the yautja could stand.

But it wasn’t Itull that rounded the corner. Instead, E’taol was staring at the heat of a massive, hulking Elder. 

Ai’dqaarll - or Jailor, was absolutely massive. His hair tendrils were long - reaching past his ribs and framing his muscular, bare torso. A few had been freshly severed, still gushing blood. He was easily as tall at Itull, maybe more. 

His greying skin had a washed out appearance, but it didn’t make him look weak. It commanded respect - few yaut’ja lived to such a silver age. His bore the scars of a survivor, crisscrossing his limbs and belly a hundred times over. The yautja must have been over a century old.

He bore no armor, only barely modest in a elaborate loincloth draped haphazardly over his muscular hips. Fresh wounds from Itull marked his arms, glowing green in the low light. Maskless, the Elder glared E’taol down, unashamed. The younger yautja felt overdressed, almost crumpling under the intense, orange eyes. Jailor’s mandibles flared, an open display of dominance. E’taol felt all his quills stand on end - this was power.

But the yautja had something to protect. And had his honor. He wouldn’t back down.

The Elder scanned the carnage in front of him, eyes settling on the body of the n’kar queen. He roared angrily, and pointed a claw in accusation.

“You,” the low, deep growl seemed to vibrate the air between them. “My mate lays dead, you killed her.”

“M-di,” E’taol retorted, extending the claws on both gauntlets in preparation. “That honor belongs to another, but I played my part.”

“Lies. Take off that ridiculous armor,” Jailor beat his fists against his bare chest, starting to close the distance. E’taol maintained his ground, his back to the escape pod. “You dishonor yourself.”

“Do not speak of honor, Bad Blood,” E’taol spat, finding his confidence. “Say that word again, and I will cut your remaining tendrils. You are lucky the Matriarch wants you alive.”

“You are like a suckling,” the Elder turned, beginning to circle around younger one. “What do you know of survival. I have met Cetanu a hundred times, and he ran at the sight of me. Death cares not for your Code.”

“You invoke Gods, but they abandoned you,” E’taol continued to stall. He was already wounded from his battle with Lish. Even heavily armored, he wouldn’t stand a chance against the Elder alone. He needed Itull. The Elder seemed eager to chat.

“Gods, bah!” Jailor waved a hand dismissively. He was still creeping closer to E’taol, one step at a time. “What good are prayers and offerings in the face of raw, mortal power.” He stopped his advance, flexing his arms in a display of strength. “I have faced the horrors of this galaxy, and returned. I have brought my prey to heel, begging and moaning at my feet for a taste of what I can offer.” 

He smirked. “There are more pleasures in this life than simple yautja Gods can offer. And with my research, I would live to feel them all.”

“You are an dishonored,” E’taol was truly disgusted now. “The kv’var keeps our clan strong, and humbles us to the mysteries of life beyond Yautja Prime. What you’ve done is slavery.”

“Slavery?” The Elder grinned. “Are yautja not superior? Are we not -“ 

His prideful speech was cut off as Itull rounded the corner, full sprint, and crashed into the Elder, knocking the air from his lungs. He doubled over, clutching his abdomen and wheezed. He was caught completely off-guard.

Itull didn’t hesitate, following up with a volley of punches against the Elder’s chest. E’taol joined in, coming in low and driving his foot into Jailors knee, spinning to wind up, and delivering a second powerful kick. He heard the bone crack.

The Elder roared, regaining his composure, and pushed against the duel assault. He pulled in his arms, blocking Itull’s vicious strikes, before catching a hand and casting it aside. Itull lost his balance, throwing too much weight behind each punch, and fell past the Elder. In the same motion, he caught E’taol’s ankle, pulling him off the ground and slamming him to the floor.
E’taol spat blood, coating the inside of his helmet.

The young yautja scrambled away, putting distance between them before hopping to his feet. Itull rolled, coming up behind the Elder and delivering a cracking kick to his unarmored skull. Jailor grunted, dizzy from the blow. Blood welled at the impact.

But the brothers didn’t wait. Itull repositioned, slinking his arms underneath the Elder and locking his hands together behind Jailor’s head. 

He slipped down, trying to escape the hold, but E’taol surged in and delivered a devastating kick to the Elder’s groin. It connected with the bone underneath. Jailor reflexively doubled over, roaring in agony and Itull followed, locking the Elder on his knees.

E’taol did it again, stomping into the tender flesh and pulling a wheezing cry out of the trapped yautja. It wasn’t necessary, but E’taol couldn’t help himself. He returned his attention to the Elder’s chest and head, and Itull nodded at him enthusiastically.

The brothers proceeded to beat the proud Bad Blood to a pulp. They didn’t draw their blades, opting for the blunt force of their armored punches and kicks to bring the brute down. 

Once weakened, Itull swapped holds, trapping the Elder’s head between his muscular thighs. He crammed a fist into the Elder’s mouth, keeping the mandibles flared. A thumb and forefinger hooked around the first tusk and pulled, bending the cartilage beneath the skin. E’taol cringed, but couldn’t help feeling giddy.

“One for me,” Itull chittered, elated in his adrenaline. With a sickening snap, he wrenched the tusk free. Glowing blood gushed from the break, and Jailor made a muffled scream into Itull’s fist. He positioned his hand on the second tusk. “One for little brother.” Another sickening snap.

He dropped the yautja tusk into E’taols waiting palm. Bits of muscle still clung to the base, and it left a residue as he turned it over, admiring his new trophy.

“What do we think, did Bachi do alright?” Itull’s voice was sinister, and he lined up for a third tusk. The Elder whimpered into Itull’s hand.

“Neither of us are sailing though space, trapped in a pod.” E’taol shrugged, mockingly. “That’s gotta count for something.”

“You’re right, mei’hswei,” and Itull wrenched a third tusk from Jailor’s face. It was a bloody mess now. “He works hard for us.” 

At last, the Elder quieted, unconscious from pain and lack of air. Itull released his thighs, and the huge yautja slumped to the ground. “They talk big, but this always knocks ‘em out. It must be terribly painful.” He rolled his own trophy smoothly over his fingers - he’d been practicing that lately.

“You are a sadist,” E’taol said, half-heartedly punching the other in the chest. “Cuff him, before he wakes.”

They set to work, positioning their prey’s arms behind his back and snapping the restraints into place. Itull clicked the electric collar around his neck. E’taol’s eyes widened in recognition. The collar. The human.

E’taol stood fast but regretted it, feeling a rush of lightheadedness. He’d bled a lot, too, but he didn’t let himself sit. The human was still hurt. He stumbled over to the working escape pod, peered though the glass viewport on the hatch and saw nothing. 

The blackness of space peered back at him, a few distant stars winking mischievously. Itull’s hand patted him on the back.

“Good thinking, deploying the pod,” The yautja purred, praising him. “Jailor couldn’t have escaped if he tried.”

“I-I didn’t,” E’taol stammered, still gazing at the empty stars.

It was more than an hour before the pair of brothers were able to hack into the transmitters for Jailor’s ship and coordinate with Bachi to dock. The eldest tried berating them with questions, but after confirming that the mission was successful, he relented. Itull was dealing with the menagerie, dragging the unconscious Elder with him. He was stripped of his belongings, and after ensuring he was stable, they stopped medical treatment.

“It’ll do until we can find a better place to hold the prisoners,” he’d shrugged after E’taol explained the strange trophy room. “We should move the other one off our ship, too.”

Now, E’taol stood outside the main airlock of the ship - no more larger than one of the escape pods. They couldn’t dock the ship inside - Jailor’s cruiser was far too small for that, but at least Bachi could park alongside and walk aboard via gangplank connection. 

Through the small viewport, he watched his older brother maintain a leisurely pace. In one hand, he led another yautja - restrained with his hands behind him. A hood was over his head. Another of their captures.

E’taol’s own fingers tapped against his armor impatiently. He’d undressed only long enough to attend to his most serious wounds, staunching the bleeding and injecting antibiotics, before he donned his suit again. It was still full of holes, but the yautja didn’t care. He was in a hurry.

His brother sealed the exterior airlock door, beginning to remove his helmet as the last bolts clamped into place and the chamber re-pressurized. He scooped his hair tendrils from his neck guard, running a hand though them to detangle the mess. E’taol didn’t wait, activating the inner door.

“Lend me the ship,” he stepped forward, demanding the immediate attention of the other. Bachi growled.

“What? No, don’t be absurd,” he wasn’t amused. “I need to make repairs - besides, why?”

E’taol ground his fangs together.

“There was an escape pod, did you see where it went?”

“I kept an eye on it,” Bachi turned to to face his brother, hands on his hips. His mandibles twitched in irritation. “E’taol, what’s this about. You’re usually tense.”

“What happened to it?”

“Crolla’s gravity grabbed it, probably hit the surface somewhere. Was something on board? Where’s Itull?”

“Itull is with Jailor, securing him. You should take the other prisoner there, too.”

“And leave you with the ship? You think I’m dumb?”

E’taol didn’t answer that. His hands were bound into fists. He had to give his brother something.

“An ooman escaped,” he spoke in half-truths. “I need to finish it off. Alone.”

Bachi scrutinized him, but if he had anything more to ask, he kept it to himself. They weren’t alone, after all. Beside his brother, the prisoner shifted uncomfortably.

“Fine,” Bachi huffed. “It’ll be awhile before Jailor’s ship is ready for the trip home anyway. Itull won’t be happy you left him behind, though.” The elder brother shook his head. “You owe me.”

E’taol let go a sigh of relief, and rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder in gratitude. “Thank you,” Bachi brushed him off, grabbing the prisoner by the arm again and leading him away.

“You better be ready to explain yourself when you’re back,” he called back over his shoulder, and E’taol nodded. “And pick up if I call you - you can ignore Itull, though. He’ll just whine. And don’t eat my food!”

E’taol clicked his mandibles, giving a nervous laugh. Bachi knew when to mind his own business. Itull would give him an earful when he was back. The yautja spun around, fully stepping into the airlock and engaged the door.

It had been too long - was the human even alive? He feared the worst.

The dust still hadn’t settled when Ruby managed to pry the emergency door of the pod open. The air could have been poison, but he couldn’t read the scanners. None of than mattered. He wouldn’t die in a ship.

The wake of the pod crashing into the planet left a trail of destruction. Shattered purple rock lay as far as the human could see in the dusty air. It felt hot under his hands and he scrambled out, away from the sparking ship behind him. The hull survived the impact, barely. Black char marks covered the exterior, and Ruby could see raw electronics where the sheets of metal had started to peel away.

He wheezed as he went, feeling the grinding of his broken ribs. It was slow going, with only one good arm to pull himself up, but when he couldn’t climb any more he crawled. His vision was burry - his brain pounded in his skull. Small fires burned in his peripherals. Every movement of his body gave protest.

At last, he felt the ground even out, and his good hand crested the edge of the impact crater. He rolled over it, yelping in pain but refusing to give in, until his back was flat on the ground, limbs splayed like a starfish.

The human took a deep, pained breath though his mouth and nose, but coughed hard on the intake. He repeated, tasting the air. It was so different. He closed his aching eyes. 

Even so far from Earth, the scents of plants, dirt, and animals triggered faraway memories of his home. He imagined he was there; deep in the central marshes of Alaska. The alien sun felt warm on his skin - it could have been summer. His good hand brushed though the foreign grass. It stung and scraped his mangled fingers.

He imagined his cabin, the long, bright summer days that seemed to drag on forever. Hunting for game, taking work in town when he needed it. He’d kept berry bushes, fished salmon in the rivers, and watched the wild animals raise their young. The solitude fit him well.

A few last tears streaked down his bloody face, settling uncomfortably in his ears. Somehow, he’d survived. Escaped his captor. He could have hollered in happiness. But his body wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, the human settled for an exhausted, drunk smile.

After countless years a prisoner, Ruby was finally free.

Chapter Text

Ruby knew he laid there for hours, drifting between half-awareness and unconscious dreams. Reality was difficult to discern. The warmth of the sun was fading, and even the bliss of freedom wasn’t enough to anchor his senses. Sounds from the alien planet flickered in his mind. 

He thought he heard strange coyotes, yipping excitedly far away. The smell of the burning escape pod wafted over him, taking him back to forest fires on Earth - sometimes vicious and hungry, other times twirling playfully though the old grass. This smoke carried traces of plastic, and Ruby would have coughed if his body could summon the strength. Even reflexes were failing him now, and he felt dead to the world. He was splayed like a fish out of water, slowing dying on the planet’s surface. He couldn’t even summon the strength to flail.

His dreams found him back on Jailor’s ship - laying prone against the cold metal floor of his cell. He was stuck, glued to the floor as if it were dragging him down. Past the wires and ventilation ducts, past the hull of the ship, and into the dark depths of space. Blackness surrounded him, wrapping its arms around his body in cold embrace. Everything was so heavy: his limbs, his chest, his mind.

Ruby stirred again at the gentle, rocking movement of his body. It was dark, even as his hazy eyes opened. The alien sun had long set, leaving the wastes cool. There was no moon - no light at all except for the distant stars.

Ruby curled his body tighter, nuzzling his cheek into the soft fur enveloping him. He could have been home again, snuggled on his couch late into the evening. He was so exhausted, the thought alone made him hum in satisfaction.

A low rumble vibrated against the human as he pressed into the fur, shaking him in his lull.  Ruby opened his eyes again, slowly processing the strangeness of the situation as he awoke. He was moving - or being moved. The rhythmic sound of footsteps crunched the gravel below him, and he swayed in time.

At last, Ruby shook himself awake. He couldn’t see a thing - it was too dark, but he felt a pair of large arms wrapped around his back and beneath his legs. When he looked up, two golden eyes glowed out of the darkness, staring intently at the path it had chosen.

The human made a small gasp, and started to twist, pushing his arms against the chest of the huge creature, trying to make distance. The golden eyes turned to meet his own, and Ruby yelped, doubling down his effort. The alien rumbled again, a low, clicking sound that made Ruby cringe. He recognized the sounds of a yautja.

“Drop me, put me down!” He commanded, flailing in place. His hand connected with more cold metal, and he hissed in a breath, reminded of his cage.

The yautja resisted, tightening his grip around Ruby and growled in warning. The human lashed out at the masked face in response. His fist connected with the alien’s armored jaw, and the human yelped in pain. Then he twisted again, kicking the yautja’s arm away from his legs and rolling to the ground with a dusty thud. The impact hit him like a punch, and he groaned at the pain that wracked his body.

Ruby felt a hand wrap around his ankle, and he squirmed, still tangled in the fur blanket around him. He pulled an arm free and pushed blindly at the imposing alien leaning over him. Another hand caught his wrist.

“Let me go!” he spat. It would have hit the yautja square in the face, but a mask had been placed over the human’s mouth and nose. It didn’t feel like his own.

The large hand released his ankle, and Ruby kicked the armor uselessly as it moved to grab his shoulder, stabilizing him. There was another growl, long and low, like a warning.

The yautja’s strong grip around Ruby’s wrist held him in place, and no matter how he pushed or pulled, he couldn’t get free. He tried anyway, yanking in the iron hands, until his injuries caught up with him again, and he slumped over, too exhausted to fight anymore.

Once he ceased his flailing, one of his wrists was freed. The yautja gave another slow, clicking rumble, turning the other, still-captured wrist over in its hand. The glowing gold eyes stared intensely, before giving Ruby’s broken arm the same treatment. At last, both hands were released, and the yautja pulled away, the faint outline of its body barely visible in the darkness.

If not for the glowing eyes, Ruby would have mistaken it for a rock.

The human pulled his limbs close, inching away from the yautja watching him. He held his arm to his face, close enough to see.

Fresh bandaging had been applied, tighter than the sloppy job he’d awoken to on the escape pod. He hadn’t questioned it then, or even thought about the implications. His mind had only one focus: escape.

Now, laying in the dark, he investigated himself more thoroughly. Both his arms had been re-bandaged with some sort of gauze, each finger carefully wrapped in place. His broken arm had been fashioned with a strange splint. It felt cool and soothing. A light, fluffy feeling had replaced the deathly aches of his body, and though Ruby still moved slowly, the sharp knife’s edge of pain had turned dull and tame.

His hands went to his face, feeling the strange mask affixed over it. It was similar to his own, but had a large external filter on each side. He started to pull it off, but his companion stirred, reaching one long arm across the gap to pause Ruby’s hand. Ruby flinched, but stopped nonetheless.

“You treated me,” he stated flatly, eyes still watching the yautja, watching him. 

A low clicking came in response, and Ruby saw the alien nod. More of the strange, rumbling sounds came from the expressionless mask, modulated slightly. The golden eyes blinked in the dark. The huge alien leaned in, supporting his weight with one hand. Ruby scooted away.

“Hey, woah,” he held up his broken arm defensively, stammering. “Stay back.” His working hand settled around a loose rock, and he armed himself. The yautja paused, seemingly baffled as Ruby raised it threateningly.

More low grumbling rolled between them, but Ruby cut the noise off.

“What do you want? To fuck me? Experiment on me?” He demanded, dragging his butt along the ground, growing the distance. He tossed the fur blanket, and it vanished in the dark. The human shook his head. “I’d rather you left me to die.”

His back hit a large boulder, and Ruby threw his weight against it, pushing himself to his feet.

The yautja stood, towering over the human when he stepped again, to chase Ruby, keeping close. Too close. A large hand went for his arm, and Ruby bashed the fingers with his rock. It glanced off the armor, and the human was forcibly turned around. He shouted, trying to fight the manhandling, but his strength had already failed him. Just staying on his feet was difficult enough.

Another low clicking noise, and Ruby’s arm was released. Hands came to either side of his head, forcing him to look out into the darkness ahead. Distantly, the human could make out a wedge of light.

The cool, white glow filtered out over the empty field. It wasn’t far, maybe a hundred meters. A low ramp was illuminated, extending out of a dark dome silhouetted against the sky. Ruby recognized it for what it was. He stumbled, dropping the rock as his free hand went for the collar still secured around his neck.

“No, no way,” the human’s eyes locked on the ship in blatant panic. He bumped into the silent yautja, before turning to walk, blindly, into the darkness. Anything to get away. “I’m not going back.”

Now standing, he saw a small fire in the opposite direction. His escape pod. Everything came flooding back to him - Jailor, the menagerie of aliens, and Lish. The human fought back tears.

A steady hand rested on his shoulder, gently pulling the human back towards the parked ship. Too weak to fight the yautja, Ruby fell to his knees in protest.

“No, you fucking monster, I’m not going back,” Ruby started to sob, rolling on to his side. He was so tired, he felt like a child again, throwing a tantrum. “You got that? No! M-di! M-di!” 

The yautja went to his side this time, trying to roll the human to his back, but Ruby just pulled further away, repeating himself over and over. He heard the yautja begin to pace, grumbling angrily, but the physical pestering stopped. He could feel the intense gaze of the alien on his back.

Ruby didn’t even realize he had passed out until the scraping of boots against gravel were right next to him. He snapped awake, but didn’t dare to move, just stiffened up and maintained his silence. An arm tried to snake under his legs, but he kicked it away. The yautja gave a frustrated huff, dropping the soft fur blanket haphazardly over the human, before stomping off.

He waited until the footfalls were far away before he looked back. Distantly, he watched the silhouette of the yautja cross the rocky field and ascend the ramp into the alien ship. It remained lowered, cool light flooding out in open invitation.

Ruby turned away, dragging the blanket over himself again and curled up on the purple stone. He tried to stay awake, staring at the strange stars or counting his breaths. He bit his tongue, pinched his broken arm; but it was a fool’s errand. Utterly exhausted, he soon drifted back to sleep.

The rising sun woke Ruby first. It was still chilly, and Ruby watched the grey light illuminate the crests of boulders, slowly changing the colors as the morning stretched forward. It was a quick sunrise - quicker than Earth's, and the human was left wondering how much he actually slept. The nights would be shorter, too.

He was still medicated, senses dulled by whatever powerful painkillers the yautja injected him with while he was unconscious. Sitting up, he took in the planets surface, fully visible for the first time since he crashed.

The planet had looked bleak from space, and the surface did nothing to dispute that. Around him, the arid landscape bore no tall vegetation - only jagged purple boulders disrupting the view. Distantly, a mountain range bordered the horizon, taking on a grayish color. It extended all around Ruby as he spun on his seat. He saw his pod, partially buried, a long crash trail behind it. And opposite, the yautja ship.

It looked intimidating in the daylight - a wide, rounded hull composed of black steel. Two huge engines, each larger than the ship itself, flanked either side, erect but at rest. Hydraulic arms joined each to the hull. It didn’t resemble anything a human had ever built.

The ramp was still deployed, but Ruby continued to spin in place, searching for the pilot instead. His eyes fell on a neat pile next to him. Tentatively, he reached for it.

There was second thick, hide blanket, folded into a square. The fur was dark and curly, and felt soft to the touch.

As he pulled it over, it reminded him of a sheep’s hide. The leather smell wafted over him, as well as something else - heady and intimate. It wasn’t a bad small, but the blanket had a lived-in feel. The musk of another body.

He shirked the offering.

Fumbling through, he also found fresh bandages, a large flask and some foodstuffs, wrapped in a cloth netting. Ruby removed his mask and bit into it, and had to stop himself from devouring it all too fast. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and the taste was familiar. Some kind of dried, red meat. The slightly smokey flavor left him salivating even after he finished. He took an experimental swig from the flask, and was pleased when his lips met the familiar, but stale, taste of recycled water. 

The human ate his fill, finishing it all without realizing - until he was digging around for more. To his dismay, he found nothing.

Ruby stole another glance at the ship, as if it would sneak up behind him and swallow him whole. His eyes landed on the figure stomping across the rocks instead. The yautja was coming towards him.

There was still fifty meters between them, and Ruby wanted to keep it that way. He wouldn’t indebt himself further with this monster.

He stood - slowly, woozily, and grabbed the extra medical supplies and empty flask. He wasn’t too proud to reject those. The fur blankets, on the other hand - the human shook his head.

“Stop!” He shouted over the wind, mustering as much confidence as he could, and the distant yautja froze in place. “Don’t come any closer.”

The yautja only maintained its pause until the human finished speaking, then resumed its determined march.

In response, the human started to walk in the opposite direction. The ground was uneven and cracked, and Ruby nearly lost his footing. He kept his broken arm splinted close to his body, and looked over his shoulder every few seconds.

He knew he couldn’t outrun the yautja - its long, muscular legs carried it at almost twice the stride of the human. It was gaining on him quickly, undeterred by alien terrain.

Ruby eyed a particularly good rock and snatched it up, arming himself again as the yautja came up from behind. The human turned to face it again, his long shadow touching the alien’s body.

It had changed - stripped of its original armor in favor of lighter, more revealing clothing.

Black fishnets crisscrossed the exposed legs, thighs and midriff. A long, dark-green loincloth kept it decent, embellished with silver rivets and a large, leather belt situated just below the navel. Leather wrapping protected its feet and ankles, though they looked more supportive, than like an actual boot - the bottoms of its feet were still exposed. Black talons stuck out from each of four toes.

When Ruby looked up, he saw the chest piece had been exchanged for a cropped tank, the same design as the loincloth. Several layered necklaces dangled from its neck, and yautja’s pecs strained against the fabric. Other than its sleek metal gauntlet, the limbs were bare. Gorgeous black and red stripes wrapped around the posterior of the muscular form, fading into a cream-colored underbelly on its front. The rich colors reminded Ruby of the king snakes at the herpetarium he visited back on Earth. 

The yautja put its hands on its hips and stared down at the human, while Ruby looked up at the placid masked face, now surrounded by a wreath of hair tendrils. Small silver cuffs decorated a few.

His mouth was dry - he hadn’t meant to gawk. The glowing gold eyes watched the human closely.

Before he could snap himself out of his stupor, one clawed hand reached - gently, and grabbed his unbroken arm. The yautja turned the bandaging over in its hands, again inspecting its handiwork. Ruby tried to pull away, but the alien gripped him tighter, growling slightly. The human raised the rock threateningly, preparing to repeat the previous night's struggle.

“-stop!” Ruby heard his own voice parroted back from the yautja’s gauntlet. It sounded artifact-ed, and cut off. A snippet recording from the fight with Lish aboard the ship. His anxiety climbed, but he obliged, and stopped twisting away.

The yautja huffed in satisfaction, loosening its grip to continue checking the human.

It had to step closer to check Ruby’s broken arm, so it took a knee, leaning forward to maneuver the arm from the splint. The humans breathing hitched, both from a twinge of pain and fear at the physical closeness. It was useless, he was at the mercy of this yautja. He didn’t dare speak.

A clawed hand reached for his neck, dragging a nail against the thin skin touching his collar. Ruby shut his eyes, his breathing turning short and panicked. A large hand on his shoulder turned him around, and he whimpered. The claws returned to his skin, feeling the back of his neck. He couldn’t move, he was so overcome with fear.

The collar tightened, eliciting a cough. Ruby dropped the rock and instinctively reached for his throat, trying to pull it away from his skin. He heard the electronics whir alive, and his eyes shot open. The yautja was behind him. He took in a pained breath, cramming his thumb under the metal to get it off his windpipe.

“-sorry,” came the recording again. It sounded like it was right in his ear. Ruby flinched.

Then came a satisfying click, and the collar came loose, falling off his neck and into the human’s hand.

Slowly lowing, Ruby examined the electronic collar in his fingers. It opened on a hinge, separating the two halves. A small embedded light by the clasp he’d seen blinking in his reflection was dark, and a few wires had been pulled loose from unseen compartments in the side.

The yautja’s hand rested on Ruby’s shoulder, and he turned around, stepping away to increase the distance again. The mask stared at him, mute, before it stood from its kneel and raised a hand, pointing towards the ship in silent insistence. Ruby didn’t know what to say. The wind picked up again, and the human shuddered. Without the blanket protecting him, the morning air was still chill in his shredded jumpsuit. He couldn’t stay out like this.

“Can you understand me?” He finally asked, though he already knew the answer. 

The yautja hesitated a moment, before nodding.

“You’ve given me choice, and seem to be trying to help,” Ruby raised his good arm around himself protectively. “I don’t know why - you look like Jailor.”

At that, the alien put his hands on its hips, huffing, in a way that could only be described as indignant. One finger tapped on its leather belt in annoyance and the human raised a hand, instinctively trying to calm it down. Even now, Lish haunted Ruby though the yautja's eerie, golden eyes.

“Please, no - I’m sorry,” Ruby’s tone quickly changed from conversational to fearful. The alien cocked its head again, bewildered. It tried to reach towards the anxious human, but Ruby dodged its hand, stumbling backwards and tripping. He landed on the ground with a yelp, but messily pushed back to his feet as the yautjas hands extended again.

“Stop it,” the human insisted. “If you really understand what I’m saying, then leave me alone. I’d die before getting on a ship again.”

Quickly, he turned his back to the yautja, settling into a fast-paced walk towards the escape pod. Towards the distant mountains. Ruby didn’t have a plan - not really. He just needed space. His breath fogged the clear mask still secured to his face.

With any luck, some supplies would have survived the crash. Food, a water recycler, maybe even something to tend his own wounds. Enough to give him time, and not rely on the strange yautja. This planet wasn’t home, but it was the hand he’d been dealt. Ruby wouldn’t fold easy.

That night, Ruby sat alone. Darkness came as quickly as the morning had risen, and by the human’s count, this part of the planet only saw about eight hours of daylight. It was a far cry from the long Alaskan summers, but Ruby made good use of the light.

The remains of the escape pod came through for him, and after some digging, Ruby managed to procure the key items. It was all woefully oversized for the small human, but at least the food would last him a while because of the larger portion size. Water, too.

The clothing, on the other hand, would require some modifications.

When the human exited the pod, the yautja was watching him. Perched at the edge of the impact crater. Ruby shot it a glare, but said nothing, crawling up the opposite side and continuing his trek across the vast purple rock.

The survivalist inside him knew he was on borrowed time unless he found usable water. The alien water recycler he found would only get him so far - he couldn’t keep himself from sweating out moisture.

The knowledge came back to him like a flood. Once, he’d been a hunter, an outdoorsman, and a practiced forager. He had the skills he needed to succeed on this unknown planet.

It felt odd, remembering his passions. Like old clothes he’d lost in a closet, but still fit perfectly. Even exhausted with a broken arm, hiking across the flat expanse filled Ruby with a sense of peace that had been unknown for over a decade. He watched the short, grey grass flow in the breeze. He took a break to turn over rocks, pocketing a few bizarre four-legged arthropods, long as his thumb, as they skittered away from the light.

Now, surrounded by the darkness, Ruby sat wrapped in an oversized linen blanket. He’d started a small fire, fed by the sticks of a few woody shrubs and the wrapping from his first ration. This one was notably worse - hard tack with a rubbery feel. But food was food - he couldn’t afford to be picky.

One of the captured arthropods crawled lazily over Ruby’s bandaged hand as he watched, illuminated by the tiny fire. It chewed at the cloth, small mandibles getting tangled in the fibers. It’s body was segmented, with a pair of long pincers at the end of its abdomen. The dull pinkish color looked more vibrant in the firelight, and at the right angle, the human could see it was semi-transparent.

Any other human may have been mortified by the thing, but after years of caring for his captor's collection, Ruby was only mildly fascinated by aliens. The shock of strange lifeforms beyond Earth had long worn off. He already liked animals, aliens seemed a natural extension.

It crawled into his palm and up his index finger. His skin was exposed at the tip, but as it inched closer, its mandibles grabbing experimentally, the human didn’t react. Just watched.

With a jolt, the insect's abdomen contorted in his palm, and a clear liquid oozed from its body. Skewered by something unseen. Ruby whipped his hand away, scooting back in surprise. The insect stayed suspended in the air, flailing and trying to twist itself uselessly, before going still and falling into the human's lap - dead.

Ruby heard familiar clicking adjacent to him, and as he turned his head, the yautja materialized in the night air. It was sitting, silently staring back at the human’s bewildered expression. Still wearing that emotionless mask.

Its knee was bent mere centimeters from Ruby’s own.

The human bundled the scavenged blanket tighter around himself, and scooted away. His eyes darted around for something to arm himself, but if the yautja noticed his nervousness, it didn’t seem to care. The huge alien stretched its arms above itself lazily, before leaning back on its hands, relaxing.

Its muscular body flickered in the firelight. How long had the yautja been there?

As it lay down next to him, it turned, facing the human. The golden eyes studied him intensely, but whatever it was trying to convey, the human refused to listen.

Ruby stood, removing the blanket and gathering his things into the oversized backpack he’d acquired. It took less than a minute. He pocketed the dead arthropod.

“Stop following me,” he said coolly. Hiking would be slow in the dark, but it was only another hour until first light. Better stumbling alone over the rocks than sharing a fire with a yautja.

The next week of sunrises were predictably fruitless.

Ruby spent the daylight hiking and searching for water. The recycler hadn’t failed him, but his supply was getting low. He was quickly running out of time.

The yautja followed him like a distant shadow. Ruby tried not to dwell on it - it was obvious now the alien could sneak up on him at any point. But he was more attuned to it, and got in the habit of packing up and walking away every time he got goosebumps. Like he was being watched.

The rations were getting bleak - two of the packs were rotten, and emitted a foul smell when he tore the packaging. He’d seen no evidence of obvious food - such as fruits or berries. Or even fungi. Anything larger than the translucent pink arthropods kept hidden or kept its distance.

Without a weapon or tools, Ruby doubted he could hunt anyway.

One evening, he skewered one of the insect-like aliens, roasting the long body over the fire, before bringing it to his lips for an experimental taste.

An invisible hand slapped it out of his grasp, and it clattered against the rocks somewhere in the darkness.

Ruby shouted out in fear and frustration.

“Enough!” He yelled into the empty air, days of stress boiling over. “I don’t want your help, I want to be alone!” Ruby wouldn’t let himself cry, now. That was precious water.

He wasn’t starving - yet. In fact, he’d gained strength over the week of eating and walking. In many ways, Ruby felt healthier than he had in years. But he was hanging on by a thread, his days numbered unless he had a breakthrough.

Even now, with the mountains closer than ever - his best hope for water seemed terribly far away. He was betting on creeks and streams he'd never seen.

He didn’t dare open the rations preemptively; that would only hasten their spoilage, but he was out of water, only scrounging together what the water recycler could muster from his own body. Each time, he got less and less back.

All the while the yautja stalked him - watching him struggle, only intervening if the human was about to make the wrong choice. Ruby felt toyed with - held in limbo by the yautja’s whim. Somehow, his newfound freedom had lost its luster.

The glass cage around him had turned into the oppressive claws of his alien shadow.

The human didn’t try to eat the arthropods again. At dawn, he awoke to find his canteen fully refilled, and a dozen more of the smokey meat rations. New offerings from the strange yautja.

Chapter Text

Out in the wastes, E’taol was pacing - frustrated, pent-up and getting tired. Some twenty meters away, the human was camped for the night, its small fire reduced to a stack of glowing embers. 

The yautja tossed his pack of supplies to the ground, spilling some of the contents haphazardly. It had been for the human, mostly. The blankets, extra water, Bachi’s food - though only the blankets remained now. His belt carried a few personal items: a pair of daggers and his own canteen. He dropped that, too.

E’taol hadn’t slept since before the attack on Jailor’s ship. The human had become an obsession - every time he thought he’d made progress, it seemed to slip further away. His days were spent studying the alien, silent and invisible. It seemed fascinated with Crolla’s lifeforms - much to his dismay. 

When his eyes weren’t glued to the human, he was chasing away hungry scavengers. A pack of four-legged hounds had been following the human, too. His code prevented him from slaughtering them needlessly, but he wasn’t going to let them get close to the venerable alien. 

At night, he’d get closer. E’taol had been too hasty before, sneaking into the human’s camp and laying beside it. The yautja couldn’t take his eyes off the human, how it studied the path unfolding before it. Watching the small invertebrate crawl delicately over its hands, unafraid of the deadly venom within its bite. Even without knowledge of Crolla’s lifeforms, the human was acting bold.

In fact, this human was extraordinarily brave, determined to conquer the inhospitable planet in spite of E’taol’s offer for respite. It denied him, relying on its own power instead of the yautja’s meager, pathetic offerings. And above all, it had offered him the n’kar queen - a finer trophy than a yautja of his rank could ever dream of.

Focused solely on the human for so long, E’taol had become completely smitten.

Yautja courting was uncomplicated - an individual would display their interest in another with an offering from their own collection. If the other could match the dowry with an trophy of their own, then the bond would continue in whatever form suited the pair best.

Particularly reputable yautja could take many mates in their lives. E’taol had over twenty siblings of various ages, on his sire’s side, though he wasn’t particularly close with any - except Itull and Bachi. As an Elite, his sire was highly desirable, and spent the entirety of the breeding season occupied on Yautja Prime.

Frequently, these pairings lasted many years. Rarely, they lasted centuries. A wise yautja knew to stay on good terms with their mates. In a sense, courtship never really ended.

There were other aspects, aside from the initial dowry - flirting, hunting together, growing as friends. But nothing beat the symbolic importance of that initial offering.

He didn’t deserve it - the human’s courting. An dowry like that would be better suited to an Elite, many ranks above him. Perhaps the human realized that, too.

Doubt clouded E’taol thoughts. They were so different - human and yautja. It didn’t matter that the human knew bits of his language, or had been aboard a yautja ship. He’d held a lot of assumptions.

He kicked a rock, sending it flying into the darkness before lowing into a squat and dragging a claw though the dirt in pensive frustration. Why had he come here? He was following the human, but to what end? Honor? Companionship? Sex? 

This was an alien - enslaved by his own kind, and no hope of two-way communication without getting aboard the ship. Only the onboard computers had the processing power needed to open up a dialogue. 

It was folly. He wouldn’t drag the human there - that would only make matters worse. The human had made it clear; if he ever hoped to get close again, he would have to earn its trust. But E’taol had so many questions.

He’d scraped a deep groove into the earth with his impatient scratching. Bits of powdery soil fell from under his claw, and he used another to clean underneath it - brooding. He growled, low and meditative.

The human had him acting the fool, chasing its rear for gram of focused attention. This was completely unbecoming of a warrior. He was an Enforcer, blooded member of his clan, and the son of respected Elite stock. 

The long, sleepless days on Crolla were wearing him down. The human had been resting, replenishing its stamina every few nights for the trek ahead. Yautja could go many standard days without rest comfortably, even longer if required. But E’taol was at his limit. 

He slumped to the ground, falling on to his back with a heavy thud that shook the stones around him. 

The human did not want him - not as he was now. He couldn’t match the dowry, and nothing on this planet could come close to the n’kar. The yautja felt ashamed.

He pictured the human, held helpless in his arms aboard Jailor’s ship. Seeing its warmth, but unable to feel it though his armor. Even when he carried it away from the escape pod, he’d been fully covered. After he’d undressed, they’d had fleeting contact. Nothing like the previous closeness.

E’taol’s groin was warm, stirring as he ruminated on the human warrior. Even exhausted, his arousal grew, neglected and needy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone so long without - so focused on the human’s safety and with limited privacy aboard their ship. 

One clawed hand reached beneath his loincloth, rubbing his fingers against the skin of his sheath. Half-hard, his cock head began to push against the cloth, slowly emerging from his groin.

The human didn’t want him now, but that didn’t stop him from dwelling on it. His mask felt restrictive on his face, warm from and hot from his panting, but the air was dangerous - he wouldn’t take it off. Instead, he stared up at the stars, eyes glazing over.

He was physically stronger than the human - E’taol knew this. It would be so easy to sneak up on the sleeping alien, pin it down, drag his mandibles over the thin skin of its neck as it writhed against the tickling sensation. 

He could almost feel the humans blood pumping there, warm and strange. He longed to bite at the skin, not hard enough to bleed, but enough to mark the human for days. Enough to remind it that E’taol was always near. 

Did the human feel it, too? This magnetic attraction? It was driving the yautja mad - perhaps all they needed was a little push to come crashing together - hot and lustful. 

E’taols length flopped heavily against his leg and he took his cock in hand, willing it further with long, tugging strokes. His rough palm ground into the sensitive flesh, feeling himself swell and harden. The humans hands would be scarred after its battle, but even still, they looked softer than his own. It would need both hands work him - he would probably look huge. 

The human was far smaller than him. If it had a fuckable hole, it would need to be warmed up. Gentle prods with his cockhead, or even slipping a finger inside. Its warmth would feel so good around him, and tight, too. 

He’d hold the human again, suspend it helplessly in the air with one hand while he searched its body, looking for somewhere to penetrate. Humans were full of surprises - what secrets did it hold, under that shredded jumpsuit? 

He gripped the broad tip hard of his head hard, dragging his thumb over the split of his slit and feeling the precum bead on his finger. 

But this human was clever - perhaps it had laid a trap for E’taol, instead? Luring him close, only to be knocked prone and pinned by some ramshackle contraption - or lunged at with a makeshift weapon. The human would stand above him, glaring down at the pathetic yautja with scornful eyes, before stripping to dominate him completely. He’d let the human do it, too - have its way with him. 

He thrust into the air, now fully erect and hard. 

E’taol gripped the base, waving it tantalizingly before him. Cool air kissed the hot skin, making him shudder with perverse pleasure. He always preferred to touch himself outdoors. Even in absolute solitude, the exposure gave him shivers. But this time, there was someone else. He was at risk of being seen.

His cock throbbed as he began to pump the shaft, fucking into his tightening fist. The yautja scooted back, propping himself up on a boulder and used his second hand to grip his sack, just hard enough to hurt. He bit back a deep, low groan, rolling the sensitive flesh in his hands. 

It was so quiet at night on Crolla, and the sounds he was making were lewd and obvious. Was the human deep asleep, or silently listening as the yautja moaned for it? The questions raced though E’taols mind, driving him closer to climax. 

He blushed with shame, staring at the distant heat of the human’s fire. Part of him wished it would see his erotic display. Catch him, debase him.

Even if the human didn’t want him, it could use him - no strength required. He would willingly prostrate himself before the warrior, offering his mouth and cock for its pleasure. A small yautja like himself could hope for nothing better than breeding stock. The human still carried the collar, maybe it was better suited to E’taol’s neck. 

The human could tie him down, fuck him, use him as a sleeve. Anything - if it meant getting to touch human’s smooth, colorful skin again. To feel those scarred fingers trace the lines of his jaw, and whisper him its praise under endless, lust-filled nights.

He roared into his orgasm, completely consumed by the fantasy. Ropes of hot spunk shot from his tip as his entire cock swelled and throbbed. He shivered with each contraction, thrusting fast and shallow into the tight circle of his hand. 

His jaws were agape, low roar changing to needy, pitched whimpers as the flow continued, spurting intermittently as he continued to pump his fist, overstimulating himself. 

After a minute straight, he slumped, his body sagging against the dirt again. His cock went limp, still spastically throbbing as it softened and began retracting back into its sheath. It left a trail of warm cum behind it, still slowly oozing from his slit. 

The pleasure high flowed though his limbs, deepening his comfort and he closed his eyes, still panting.

Clarity began to wash over him, and though his imagined human still brought a flush to his body, he sighed. He had more pride than this - he wouldn’t yoke himself so easily. Even if it had its pleasurable appeals. He’d need to try harder to meet the human as an equal. 

If only it there were something worth hunting here.

He revisited the lustful fantasy, picturing the humans warmth again. Its bloody warpaint. The curves of its neck and waist, grinding it hips softly against his own. Running his hands though its hairs and stripping off its clothing in gentler fashion. 

But his dick wouldn’t cooperate, and - thoroughly beat, the yautja fell into a long, deep slumber.

E’taol awoke, his mouth feeling like paste, to flashing health alerts on his biohelm’s view screen. He was still splayed out, leaning against the purple boulder, and looking disheveled. The sun was long since up - he had no idea how long he’d slept.

The missed alerts gave some context, and he keyed the buttons on his gauntlet, dismissing a pair of warnings about dehydration, each spaced a standard day apart. He’d slept for at least thirty hours - not unusual for a yautja, and a tired one at that.

He’d missed several calls from Itull - also normal. He’d been dismissing them every day since he landed on Crolla, but he stopped his motions quickly. 

Two missed calls from Bachi. One of them was moments ago - it must have roused him from unconsciousness.

Still half-dazed and slow, he pressed his gauntlet to follow up. To his surprise, Bachi picked up instantly, and he could already hear Itull’s grumbling in the background.

“Gkaun-yte mei’hswei,” Bachi’s already low voice sounded deeper over the subspace frequencies. “You must have been sleeping.”

“Sei-i,” E’taol cracked out. He was more dehydrated than he’d thought, but he’d given the human the last of his water. “Gkaun-yte.”

“Itull and I took shifts resting twelve hours ago, I figured as much,” Bachi mused, but his voice hinted at something else. He was stalling. Itull was still grumbling incoherently in the background. “Your health readings are poor. And the ooman . . .” his brother trailed off, troubled, before Itull’s voice came though, clear and close.

“Bachi, put me on,” he insisted, and his brothers exchanged a few squabbling growls before the mic shuffled hands. “E’taol, did you kill the ooman?” The youngest yautja tensed up.

“Ah, no,” he replied, thankful again he wasn’t face to face. More shuffling noises, and something covered the mic while Itull and Bachi exchanged muted, indecipherable words.

“Mei’hswei,” Bachi’s low voice returned, carrying a hint of warning. “Itull has been going though Jailor’s files, gathering evidence against him while I work on repairing the ship. It’s-“ Bachi was cut off again when the mic was forced from his mouth and back to Itull.

“Have you noticed anything unusual about the human?” 

E’taol cocked his head quizzically, but the line of questions was beginning to make him anxious. “I don’t know, I’d never seen one before.”

“The human is hybridized. Very, very hybridized,” Itull continued. He sounded like he was staring at something. “Mostly yautja DNA, but other bits, too. There’s lots of notes about attempts with n’kar, but it looks like those never took. It wasn’t the only one, too. Jailor must have been experimenting on at least two dozen humans over the last century. This one is the culmination. You’d be better at sorting this data, but it looks like the human was being created for some sort of breeding experiment. A surrogate, of sorts . . .”

The yautja ground his fangs. Itull kept talking in the background, but E’taol didn’t need him to elaborate further - he knew what this meant. Bachi pulled the microphone back to himself.

“E’taol, I saw the blood near the escape pods. That human was fatally wounded,” Bachi said, a warning in his voice. “You know the code. This should have been an easy kill. Why you are dawdling?”

He bit the inside of his mandible, chewing the skin in rumination. He still couldn’t tell his brothers the truth. Guilt and shamed burned inside him. Not just for being an insufficient mate to the human, but for his growing feelings. Now, knowing the truth, the yautja was at a crossroads.

Genetic modification of the yautja species was expressly forbidden. That was one of the reasons Jailor was a Bad Blood - why he had a bounty at all. E’taol should have realized the connection sooner.

“I’ll finish it,” he hardened his resolve. Honor above all.

“You must,” Bachi insisted again, though his voice betrayed an element of curiosity. “I won’t bother you further, but I expect the truth when you return.”

“Sei-i, it will be done,” E’taol acknowledged, before ending the call. “N’dhi-ja.”

Silence returned, and he was alone on the arid planet again. He stood, brushing himself clean from the planets dust and his own dried spunk. It was better if he didn’t dwell on the exchange. The sooner this was over with, the better. In a fluid motion, he drew his blades, checking the mechanisms, and re-cloaked himself.

He would make it quick. Just as he should have aboard the ship. If only the yautja had ended it then, before he’d let the human speak. Before he’d watched the human regain strength, protected it, and seen it stare at Crolla’s wastes like a beautiful, strange frontier. 

E’taol could have saved himself the hurt that was threatening his heart now.

He picked up the human’s trail, still making towards the foothills and the mountainous horizon beyond. The yautja repressed a flicker of pleasure, seeing his last gift of rations and water had been taken. The human had seemed angry with him, but at least it still accepted his help.

But he dashed that, remembering his geas. Honor above all, he thought, like a mantra. Honor above all.

It took him the remainder of the daylight to catch up to the human. Its pace had slowed and meandered in the foothills, backtracking occasionally as it seemed to search the area. The soil beneath his feet no longer cracked, and taller, bush-like plants had replaced the coat of scraggly grey grass in the lowlands. The grade was more variable, sparse boulders turning into respectable hills and ridges. His mask display indicated a tiny increase in humidity, though his hunter’s sense told him likewise. They were close to water.

E’taol was certain he’d find the human there.

Dusk was just falling as he rounded the base of a ridge, his foot sinking into purple mud. Unseen hands parted the tall, washed-out reeds. His tracks were the only sign he left behind. 

There, beneath a shallow rock overhang, the human made its camp. A trickle of water flowed out of the stone, slick with organic slime and liverworts where it slid over the rocks, eventually falling into a small, rocky basin. The water recycler was below, catching the thin stream while the human coaxed a small fire to life, steadily growing brighter in the yautja’s vision, before it finally caught, and he heard the human give a triumphant hum.

It looked to have been camped here a day at least. The beginnings of a wood pile were stacked under the shelter of the overhang, and the human had cleaned itself, washed the dried blood from its skin and re-bandaging its own arms. Its original, shredded garments had been removed, and it was stripped to its underclothes - a dark tank and briefs. The jumpsuit was laid out to dry on the bank.

E’taol almost lost to the sight, old habits from the previous week returning as he sat crouched in the undergrowth, watching the human with content.

Slowly, the yautja crept along the bank, enclosing on the unwary human. His blades were drawn, his hands curled into white knuckled fists. His casual clothing had no plasmacaster - he regretted that now. It wouldn’t have been right, shredding the human from long range, but at least it would have been easier.

He was ten meters away, preparing to make a dash for the kill, when the human perked up, looking where E’taol crouched, still cloaked and invisible. The row of quills on its back stood on end. Its dark eyes stared at the empty space, and the yautja froze. His own masked eyes stared back, meeting the human’s gaze, and he felt his resolve crumple again. 

“Are you there?” The human asked, eyes narrowing, but remained calm. “Come out.”

The language automatically translated over E’taol’s biohelm, and the yautja growled low. He wished he’d never heard the invitation. Ignorance was better - the code demanded he couldn’t ignore an open challenge. He uncloaked and stood, stepping to the edge of the firelight so the human could see him. He didn’t withdraw his blades.

The human noticeably tensed at the sight of his wristblades, but it didn’t move from its seat, only spinning slightly on its rear to face him. It was unarmed.

“I don’t want to fight you - doubt I’d win anyway,” the human sighed. “I’m a hunter, not a soldier.”

E’taol’s hands twitched, head buzzing with his conundrum. He stared the human up and down. The quills - yautja quills, were plain to see now. Sparse, but obvious. There was a ridge of them along the spine, and a small patch poking out of the low-cut shirt between the human’s pecs. Now that he was close again, he could see the humans dark eyes had a familiar glow to them, too faint to see in daylight. In the firelight, they looked amber. His heart beat faster, recalling his fantasies.

He had to make a decision - before his body gave into the human’s stern gaze and he embarrassed himself.

Bachi had made the expectations clear - the human was a hybrid. By code, it had to die. It was stronger, faster, and was recovering quickly. Its yautja DNA was more obvious than ever, and with time, there would be more changes.

But it was unarmed, non-aggressive, and intelligent. They shared a hunt, it was courting E’taol, and, at its core, it was still a modified human. Not a modified yautja. Somehow, this difference mattered to E’taol. The hypocrisy of the code was maddening.

None of this had been the human’s choice. It was a lab rat, forced into slavery by a Bad Blood for over a decade. Now, it was doing everything it could to survive on Crolla.

If he truly respected the human as a mate, he wouldn’t make more choices on its behalf. 

E’taol withdrew his blades, and lumbered over to sit by the human, keeping the small fire between them. The ground shook when he landed, crosslegged, and he leaned his head in one hand. Gods, he was a fool.

The pair sat in silence, the human staring in disbelief, and E’taol staring back though his mask. Slowly, it passed its canteen to the yautja. E’taol lifted his mask just enough to take a long drink. It could have been poisoned, he didn’t care. Thirst overtook him, and before he realized, he’d finished half. He stopped, passing it back to the human and lowering the mask again.

“You were gone for a while,” the human mused, taking the canteen back from his clawed hand. He flinched when the bandaged fingers brushed his own, but the human didn’t react. “I’m sorry for yelling at you - you’ve been nothing but helpful. I probably owe you my life.”

This casual talk of life-debts and honor was going to drive him mad. Just being close to the human again was making him warm. E’taol blamed it on the fire, and reminded himself that the human had no idea of what it spoke.

“Ki'sei, jehdin s’dhi’ki,” the yautja replied in his native tongue, his voice rolling and deep. “h’ka-se, s’jehdin.” The human looked at him, some indecipherable expression on its face.

“I-I can’t understand you,” it gave a weak smile. “This is going to be very one-sided.”

E’taol shrugged. “Sei-i, ki’sei ooman. Gkei’moun-de.”

Another ponderous silence passed, only interjected by the occasional distant yipping and the slow trickle of the water down the rocks. The human chewed a ration before replacing its breathing mask.

“You slapped my dinner away before - so you must know about the plants and animals here - what’s safe to eat,” the human pointed to the yautja, palm upturned with one elbow on its knee. “Can you show me what’s edible?”

“Sei-i, s’guan-de,” E’taol leaned back on his hands, cocking his head. “S’lar’ja s’setg’in s’ooman. Jehdin hult’ah.”

“Okay, I heard ‘sei-i’, so I’ll take that for now,” the human mirrored his pose, exposing a bit of its stomach as it stretched. E’taol’s gaze lingered on the trail of hair that led below the waistline. “What do I call you?”

The yautja hesitated, eyes lingering on the humans body. “E’taol,” he replied, at last.

“E’taol, Ey-tawl,” the human tested his name on its tongue, poking the fire with a long stick to tease it along. The yautja nodded, and the human raised its hand it its chest. “My name’s Ruby.”

“Ru-by,” E’taol repeated, emphasizing the consonants, and the human grinned, flashing its teeth. The yautja was taken aback, he hadn’t expected such an aggressive display, and the human’s face fell. It eyed him suspiciously, before one hand went to its mouth, and it dragged its finger across its lips.

“Oops,” the human frowned. “Okay, teeth bad. Got it. That’s not too unusual, even on Earth.” It smiled again, but didn’t bare its teeth. E’taol relaxed in turn, chiding himself for the exchange. Humans and yautja were very, very different. He’d have to give the human some leeway.

The pair spent the evening exchanging short phrases of conversation. The yautja scanned plants on the human's behalf, and reaffirmed that he wasn’t going to kidnap the human and - no, he wasn’t going to kill it. After that, the human never asked about E’taol, only quizzing him on the lifeforms it had seen along its trek, and the yautja was glad for it. He was going to have a hard enough time justifying himself to his brothers. Simple ‘yes’ and ‘no’ wasn’t going to cut it for how he felt, let alone saying goodbye.

At E’taol’s insistence, the human accepted the fur blankets he’d brought from his bed. It was the least he could do, and they were of high quality. Each one was a trophy in its own right, though they served a more functional purpose. Not enough for a dowry; not enough for his human, but it would help it survive.

Now, wrapped in the hides, the human had fallen asleep under the outcropping. E’taol sat by the fire, stoking it, dragging out his departure. He’d keyed the autopilot on the ship just after dark, and heard the engines hum as it landed a few klicks away. The human didn’t stir.

He inched closer to the human, watching its breath fog on the clear mask. At least it trusted the yautja enough to sleep near him. He longed to curl around it, wrapping his own body in the furs and pressing them together, feeling their heat mix and equalize. But it was too soon.

Dismally, E’taol pulled himself away, and unequipped his twin ceremonial daggers. Without a sound, he laid them next to the human - one final gift. They would keep Ruby safe. And one day, he would return for them.

Chapter Text

[ Eight months later… ]

Winter had settled on Crolla. Despite the temperature regulators in E’taol’s suit, the freezing air bit his extremities with new ferocity as he walked down the ship’s ramp. He inhaled the cool, suit-filtered air.

The landscape before him was white. When he stepped off, his foot sunk into the snow past his ankle. The yautja involuntarily shivered, but kept trudging until he was clear of the ship. Tiny flakes of ice pelted his view-screen, pulled by wind from snow drifts piled upon buried boulders. 

Behind him, the ramp raised again, becoming flush with the hull, and eager to conserve the heat inside.

E’taol had experienced snow before - previous kv’vars had taken him to planets where fluffy, playful flakes would dance around him, settling on his armor in beautiful geometric shapes before melting away.

Crolla’s snow was anything but playful. As the heavy yautja hiked, his feet broke the brittle surface. His march was difficult, and the depth unreliable. One moment, he’d be comfortably above the surface, surveying the landscape. Step too close to a hidden boulder, and he’d sink up to his waist, the frozen ground giving out into hidden pockets of air.

After dragging himself out of the snow for the tenth time, he spotted a figure. The grey silhouette in the distance was still, watching the yautja clamber to his feet. E’taol’s heart skipped at the sight, and he marched towards it.

If he hadn’t known Ruby was alone on Crolla, E’taol wouldn’t have recognized the human as Ruby. Or as a human at all.

It was clad from head to toe in layers of stripped fabric, creating a thick coat that concealed the human’s shape. A pair of legs stuck out of the coat, from the knees, down. Many more layers of wrapping kept its feet warm and secured to some makeshift snowshoes. 

A few stray fabric strips fluttered in the wind, and as E’taol got closer, he could just barely make out the humans face, tucked into a dense, furry hood. The glowing amber eyes looked out over the breathing mask, studying E’taol. On its back it carried a pair of long spears, fashioned from scrap metal.

The yautja swooned, nearly stumbling as he came up to stand before the human. He’d thought about this moment for months - meticulously grooming and playing out their reunion in his mind. He’d spent more than a dozen steamy nights imagining the human’s gaze.

All his plans crumbled before him. Just seeing the human, knowing it was alive after all this time - it was enough. He raised a hand to the human’s shoulder in greeting. To his surprise, Ruby permitted the gesture, a patted the yautja’s armored forearm in response. E’taol blushed, hard.

“Gkaun-yte ooman,” he chittered, unable to conceal his own delight. “Ru-by,” he corrected himself.

“You came back,” Ruby replied, its face unreadable behind all the protective layers. Its voice sounded hoarse. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you - anyone, ever again.”

The human lowered its hand, and E’taol felt suddenly unsure. Ruby turned away, but E’taol caught its arm. He gestured to the ship.

“-ship,” a downloaded voice came from his gauntlet. It was fractured and piecemeal, but this time, E’taol was prepared. “Talk. Us. Together-“

Ruby looked at the gauntlet, then to E’taol, bewildered.

“No,” he said, but turned back toward the yautja. “I’m sorry. I just can’t - but,” Ruby tilted his head to the side, indicating the gauntlet. “Maybe with this - you could come with me? We shouldn’t stay out in the cold.”

E’taol glanced at the ship, yearning for the warmth, but relented. With a huff, he fell in line behind the human, and the pair began hiking deeper into the snowy wasteland.

With the human guiding him, he stopped falling into snow wells, and was able to carry himself with a bit more dignity. Initially, Ruby was quiet, listening to the snow crunch underfoot. But after a few minutes, the human opened up.

“I saw your ship enter the atmosphere,” he said over his shoulder. “At first, I wasn’t sure. But I recognized it.”

“Not mine,” came the recorded voice, a mix of tones. “Mei’hswei,” he said.

“Why come back?” Ruby asked, shouting over the wind again. “Just in the area?”

E’taol hesitated, before confessing. “You.”

“I told you, I won’t fight you,” Ruby laughed, oblivious. E’taol’s heart skipped another beat. The human was actually cheerful. “But it has been lonely.”

E’taol grumbled as they crested a hill. It looked so unfamiliar in the winter, but Ruby hiked with confidence.

“Do yautja like the snow?” He asked as E’taol took a wrong step and sunk deeper than he’d expected.

“M-di,” he growled. His gauntlet spoke. “Cold.”

“I don’t think it’s so bad,” Ruby shrugged, but his voice carried a hint of teasing.

“How. Far?” E’taol asked, crossing his arms defensively.

“Oh, we’re here. I thought you’d recognized it.”

E’taol cocked his head, but said nothing, studying the snow. Numerous footprints dotted the area, forming distinct trails. At the base of the hill, crumbled reeds poked out from a blanket of white. Icicles flowed over an exposed rock face, forming to sharp points.

The trails converged on a metal hatch, dug clear from the piles of snow surrounding it.
Ruby started down the hill first, sliding a bit as he broke new trail, while E’taol clumsily followed.

The yautja recognized the hatch - it was from the escape pod. Standard issue. A few char marks from the landing were still visible on the metal face. With a squeal, Ruby opened it, brushed the snow from his legs, and stepped though. E’taol ducked to follow.

The shelter was partially built into the rocky overhang where E’taol had left Ruby all those months ago. The ceiling was just barely too short for a yautja, and he had to stoop or crouch to move around.

He recognized parts of the escape pod everywhere. Its scavenged hull made up the walls and ceiling, sealed with mud and fiber. Deeper in, the structure turned into natural stone, connecting with the cliff face. Water slowly dripped from a pipe embedded in the ceiling and into an old water recycler. A small clay oven contained a weak fire, puffing smoke into a narrow chimney and out of the shelter.

Next to it, the human had constructed its bed - a nest of blankets atop a mattress of shredded plant matter. To E’taol’s delight, he recognized the furs he’d given Ruby.

The human shed his cloak, draping it over a long pipe parallel to the ceiling. It grabbed a few bundles of branches from a pile, and arranged them in the stove, slipping off its mask to breathe the fire back to life.

In a moment, Ruby had it going again, and the air warmed quickly in the tight space. Sighing in satisfaction, it fell back on to its bed, and began to strip off its boots. Its hands had fully healed, and bore the cross-crossing of deep, purple scars.

“Impressed?” The human smirked. It tossed one boot next to the door. “It took a long time to get all these parts here.”

E’taol nodded, settling down with his back to the door. “Sei-i.”

Ruby mirrored the pose, looking pleased, before a coughing fit overtook him. It clutched its chest, heaving, and pulled off its mask to bring its arm to its mouth.

“Fuck!” He said between coughs. “Sorry-“ Another round, echoing in the tiny space. E’taol leaned in, unsure, but Ruby held up a hand to stop him, turning away in embarrassment.

When it finally stopped, and the human pulled its arm away, E’taol could see warm flecks of fresh blood. Ruby returned the mask to its face, and looked back to the yautja.

“My bad,” the human said, nonchalantly. E’taol crossed his arms.

“The air,” he played the voices again. “Poison.”

“I’m fine,” Ruby insisted, its voice newly hoarse. “I keep the mask on as much as I can. It’ll pass.”

E’taol discreetly keyed his helmet’s scanner when the human reached for its canteen, taking slow sips. Ruby’s body illuminated on his view screen, and after a moment, gave an alert. Moderate internal respiratory damage detected. The yautja stiffened.

“-need a doctor,” the yautja lowered the scan, crawling across the floor to sit closer to Ruby.

“Maybe,” the human sighed, still catching its breath. “I don’t know.”

“Ruby” E’taol said, slowly. The human had him worried. “Can’t stay.”

“I don’t know,” Ruby repeated, talking in circles. It looked around its shelter, taking in its work. “I’m not ready yet. Please try to understand, E’taol.”

The yautja, E’taol, was obviously anxious. Between brief exchanges, it - he, would step outside, surveying the snowy landscape and walk a circle around Ruby’s camp, before returning in a huff.

Ruby tried to ignore it, enjoying the strangeness of another presence for the first time in months. He’d invited E’taol, but only as an alternative to the ship. Now that they were both here, the human was at a loss. He hadn’t hosted a guest in over a decade. And he had little food to offer.

When darkness fell, fatigue began to creep upon him. He’d grown accustomed to the shorter day-night cycles on Crolla. Now that it was winter, he slept almost every night.

While E’taol was out, Ruby settled into his bed. He suppressed another coughing fit, knowing the sound would bring E’taol back to his side within moments. As nice as it was to talk to someone again, the yautja hardly fit inside his shelter.

It was no use - Ruby’s chest seized painfully with the tickling of his throat, and soon E’taol was though the door, hunching. He paused, seeing Ruby tucked into the blankets.

“I’m okay,” Ruby insisted again. “I just need sleep. I’ll be awake again at dawn.”

The yautja shuffled over to Ruby’s bed, rumbling his disapproval. 

“You can head back to your ship for now, but if you’re still around tomorrow -” Ruby shrugged. “Would you meet me here?”

E’taol’s hands visibly twitched at his sides. He cocked his head to the side. “Talk. More?”

“Yes,” Ruby gave a smug smile. “Goodnight, E’taol.”

The yautja brushed a hand across the fur blanket before pulling away. “Dhi’ki, Ruby,” he replied in his low, natural voice, glancing over his shoulder again, before stepping though the hatch and closing it. Ruby blushed.

This clingy-ness from a yautja was different from what he was used to. Jailor only used Ruby for sex and science. They’d hardly exchanged words, other than commands and moans of pleasure. E’taol seemed interested in the human. He couldn’t call E’taol a friend - he didn’t know enough about him. But an ally - definitely.

Being treated kindly brought a lightness to the human’s heart. In spite of everything, Ruby was glad E’taol was here. Even if he was still harping about getting Ruby aboard his ship.

But seeing a yautja again resurfaced old memories. The years the human spent with another yautja - Jailor. And Lish, of course.

Ruby rolled over in bed, pulling the fur blankets to his nose.

Jailor had kept furs like these, too. His personal chambers were decorated on every surface. And Jailor’s bed. Ruby’s legs twisted together impulsively, squeezing his thighs tight. A warmth stirred within him.

Despite everything he’d gone through, the processing, the self-forgiveness, he couldn’t forget. And part of Ruby despised himself for it, because he frequently revisited time spent beneath the Elder yautja. Or above him. Or between Jailor and Lish.

E’taol was a yautja, too. The image of Jailor in Ruby’s human eyes. Just seeing him brought Ruby flashes of the pain he’d endured. The humiliation. And the rare pleasure.

Alone on Crolla for months, Ruby’s sexual cravings went unfulfilled. E’taol’s return crossed the wires in the human’s brain. 

The sight of the huge yautja, towering over him. E’taol’s clawed hand grazing his skin - firm but gentle. The gorgeous, powerful armor and emotionless mask. His musky smell. It all brought a flush to the human’s body.

Ruby shook his head, reality-checking himself. He didn’t know E’taol, and it didn’t matter if the yautja had been kind. It was too unknown, and potentially dangerous to get involved with an alien. He needed to look out for himself. That was all that mattered.

The human suppressed his urges, burying his face deeper into the blankets. His small stove fire was burning low, keeping him warm as the wind blew outside, howling over the rocks and snow.

At dawn, Ruby stepped out. The wind had died down, leaving the sky clear. The vast snowfields sparkled in the light, far into the distance. 

E’taol, wearing the same mirrored armor, stood just outside - arms crossed. He perked up at the sight of Ruby, resting a hand on the human’s shoulder like he had the day before. Ruby was too short to mirror the greeting, so he patted E’taol’s arm instead.

“‘Morning,” Ruby said, his voice muffled behind his breathing mask and hood. He tapped the spear strapped to his back. “I need to check snares. Care to join me?”

“Snares,” Ruby’s own voice repeated out of E’taol’s gauntlet. “Kv’var?” The yautja asked, his normally low voice just a hair higher. He puffed out his chest.

“I don’t know what that is,” Ruby shrugged, turning to follow his well worn path through the snow.

“Kv’var . . .” E’taol trailed off, thinking. “Hunting.”

“I guess,” Ruby mused. “Though it’s probably not what you are imagining.”

E’taol followed behind Ruby, again. With his large stride, he could have outpaced the human, but the snow seemed to be slowing him down. At least enough to match Ruby’s own speed.

The trail took them deeper into the foothills, away from the vast snowfields. The thick snow still hid the majority of the landscape, but it was more hilly, and frequently the snow was interjected by a struggling bush or exposed ridge.

Ruby’s snares were simple, made from scavenged wire and affixed near the base of bushes.

To his dismay, the first few traps came up empty. They hung uselessly in the air, or knocked to the side by the wind. E’taol stayed silent as Ruby re-armed them, carefully building up the snow to keep the delicate wires balanced. Whenever Ruby glanced at the yautja, he was always surveying their surroundings, alert and tense. After the third empty trap, Ruby spoke up.

“It took a few days, after you left the planet, for animals to start showing up,” Ruby said nonchalantly. “I think you unnerved them.”

“Sei-i, h’dlak,” E’taol rumbled in reply. “Jehdin s’ka’Torag-na s’nrak'ytara.”

Ruby couldn’t understand, so he continued his thought. “Even the little things stayed away, but once the cold settled in, things quieted down again. I haven’t had much luck hunting.”

E’taol stooped next to him, eyeing Ruby’s work. “Jehdin s’Ru-by ki’sei-de Crolla non-co.” One claw went to try the wire, and Ruby slapped the yautja’s hand away without thinking. E’taol chittered in annoyance.

“Ah, sorry!” Ruby stammered, laughing grimly. “Don’t touch it - they’re a pain in the ass to set.” The human stood, only just barely taller than the crouching yautja, sunk in the snow. 

“It’s. Okay,” E’taol played through his gauntlet, and Ruby sighed, falling deep into thought. E’taol stared at him silently, their eyes nearly level.

“Ship, Ru-by,” E’taol said, using his own voice to recreate the human’s language as best he could. It sounded unnaturally rough on his alien tongue. “Talk. Food. Safe.”

“I know,” Ruby sighed. He didn’t want to hurt E’taol’s feelings, so he made excuses. “I’m just tired - tired of space.”

“Trust,” E’taol’s gravelly voice spoke. Again, his hand came up to Ruby’s shoulder, softer than before.

“Alright - on one condition,” Ruby said quickly, pulling away from E’taol’s reach to keep stomping through the snow. “I have one more snare to check. If it’s empty . . . I’ll go to your ship.”

E’taol visibly perked up at that, almost leaping to his feet before losing his balance and falling. The yautja wasn’t deterred, and stood again, more slowly.

When the pair arrived at the final snare, Ruby sucked in his breath. It was empty, after all.

“I’m not leaving Crolla - yet,” Ruby warned, standing at the foot of the ship’s on-ramp. “If the ship starts, I’ll kick and scream and make your life miserable until you kill me or let me go.”

Ruby’s conviction was true - but even as he said it, he felt his legs wobble. The yawning mouth of the ship was dark and dimly-lit. E’taol stood just inside, his body turned toward the human.

“Sei-i, Ruby,” he called, a little louder than his usual voice because of their distance. The yautja waited.

Beneath his breathing mask, Ruby chewed his lip. He was restless. His body squirmed in trepidation. But the human took a wide, clumsy step - out of the snow and on to the ramp. His makeshift snowshoes were awkward on the metal. Ruby took his time removing them.

“I mean it!” He said, still stalling, but he was running out of excuses. “Don’t fuck with me!”

“Ki'sei, Ruby,” E’taol repeated. If there was any hint of annoyance, anything to convince Ruby this was a stupid idea, he couldn’t hear it. The yautja was patient.

Ruby’s feet carried him first, feeling a brush of warm air from within the dim hull. In his speed, he stepped fully past E’taol, and took forced, deep breaths.

The yautja chittered in satisfaction, and keyed an order into the wall pad. Ruby turned to watch the blinding white snow slowly disappear as the ramp was raised into the ship. When the last sliver of light vanished, the human descended into darkness.

Ruby couldn’t see anything - completely snow-blind for the moment as his eyes adjusted. His breathing hitched again, feeling the pits of panic settling in his stomach and brain. He shot out his hands, seeking any point of reference, but only felt the floor beneath his feet.

A strange hissing sound came from behind him, and the clinking of metal. Ruby heard the yautja rumble again, closer than before. He knew it was E’taol - and yet he felt fear overtake his senses. Jailor. The cages. The endless void of space. Ruby struggled to get air, taking erratic breaths through his nose.

“Ruby,” E’taol called his name, but the human barely registered it. His unseeing eyes were wide with panic. “Ru-by.”

Without realizing it, Ruby had stepped back, instinct taking him towards the ramp. When he felt E’taol’s arms warp around him, he nearly screamed. But the yautja just slowly lowered them both to the floor, embracing the human in an attempt to comfort him.

“Ruby, you honor me with your trust,” a strange, robotic voice came over an unseen speaker, only barely delayed behind the yautja’s own alien speech. His armored chest vibrated as he spoke, pressing Ruby against him. Ruby felt a few long tendrils brush his face, and he flinched, but he was too panicked to move, frozen in the yautja’s arms. He didn’t reply, still only barely controlling his breaths. He felt lightheaded, and started to cough. E’taol continued.

“The months on the snow have blinded you in darkness, and the air has decayed your lungs. We need to treat you,” he said plainly, though the robotic translation only offered limited intonation. “But you are safe here. You have my word.”

When Ruby still didn’t reply, he fell into silence - and the human continued to cough and wheeze. After five minutes, Ruby - at last, began to calm down. His breathing slowed, and though he didn’t speak, he began to relax his muscles - one by one. 

E’taol’s hand went to stroke his back, and Ruby allowed it, protected from the hard armor by his own thick coat. The warmth of the ship felt soothing, slowly equalizing with his clothing until he felt wrapped in a heavy blanket. His head rested against E’taol’s breastplate, feeling the metal rise and fall as the yautja took deep, steady breaths.

“Ruby,” E’taol said again, rumbling. He seemed to enjoy saying the human’s name, as if he was practicing. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” the human replied, his own voice cracking. “I’m okay now.” He could taste the blood in his mouth.

“We should go to medical storage,” E’taol said, though he didn’t rise to his feet, and just squeezed Ruby a bit tighter. The human squirmed in discomfort. He still couldn’t see.

“Can’t you treat me here?” he asked, pushing against the yautja’s chest until he loosened his embrace. Ruby didn’t want to go deeper into the ship, if he could avoid it. It would be too easy to get lost.

The yautja sat in thought for a moment. “I will call my brothers here.”

“Wait - brothers?” Ruby stammered, but E’taol was already keying his gauntlet. He mumbled something into it, but the translator didn’t elaborate. It seemed he could choose when it spoke for him.

A different yautja’s voice came over the gauntlet, and within a few moments, Ruby heard the familiar hiss of a door opening.

“Ooman . . .” came a voice deeper than E’taol’s own, and Ruby felt his hackles go up. A new eye was on him - and he could somehow feel the piercing glare.

E’taol said something in his native tongue, exchanging a few private words with this new yautja - a brother. Finally, the translator picked up the new voice.

“Human - Ru-by,” the lower yautja voice spoke again, though the translation sounded the same. “At last you are on my ship. E’taol . . . speaks highly of you.”

Ruby was taken aback by the strange statement, but E’taol interjected.

“He is sick - Crolla’s air has poisoned him.”

“So you say,” the brother replied. “If we treat this human, you know what we are committing to. There is no turning back.”

“The issue is past,” E’taol growled. “We already discussed this.”

“Very well. Expose its veins.”

E’taol’s hands went to remove Ruby’s cloak, and the human resisted.

“What’s going on - what are you talking about?” Ruby asked, confused. His anxiety rose again.

“Bachi is going to repair your lungs. An antidote, and cellular stimulation,” E’taol explained, his voice going noticeably softer. “He’s going to help.”

The other yautja - Bachi, grumbled in annoyance. “The human has questions, brother. How much will you explain?” E’taol ignored him, still talking to Ruby in his arms.

“It may hurt a bit,” he continued. “But your body will come back stronger.” 

Ruby groaned, finally scooting out of E’taol’s embrace to sit cross-legged on the floor. “Fine, I’m used to be poked, anyway.” At that, Bachi chittered with quiet laughter.

“Poked, eh?” Ruby felt a new hand grab his arm as the human removed his coat. Bachi’s skin was incredibly warm, and he felt the yautja’s long talons graze his skin, palpating his arm for a good vein. Ruby yelped when he felt the sudden stab of a needle, and the sensation of a cold fluid injection. He got goosebumps all over again, but tried to suppress the feeling. Yautja. Ships. Needles. It was all too familiar.

When the needle withdrew, Bachi applied pressure with one hand. Behind him, Ruby heard E’taol shuffling to remove his armor.

“Where is Itull?” E’taol asked, though the name sounded identical to his own in Ruby’s human ears.

“Sick again - should be out soon,” Bachi replied passively, wrapping Ruby’s arm in a thin strip of gauze. “I’m sure he’ll want to meet our guest.”

“How many yautja are on this ship?” Ruby asked, and Bachi released his arm, finished with his work.

“Three,” the brother replied. “Sometimes more, but we are here on leisure.”

“And other species?” Ruby asked pointedly, and Bachi chuckled again.

“Just one, a human-hybrid,” the low voice traveled though the room, on the move again.

“Bachi,” E’taol grumbled in warning, before switching off the translator and bickering with his brother - a series of clattering growls and rumbles that Ruby couldn’t discern.

“What are you saying?” Ruby said suspiciously. “Is this about me?”

“There are . . . factors,” E’taol said, reactivating the translator with a huff. “I have much to tell you, but it is hard to explain. I needed -“

“The human!” Came a new voice, excitedly, and Ruby heard E’taol huff again, annoyed by the interruption. 

He felt the warmth of E’taol’s body radiating off him before the yautja even touched the human. E’taol had moved to Ruby’s side, resting a hand on the humans shoulder protectively as he helped Ruby to his feet. Another, unknown clawed hand rested on his opposite shoulder in greeting. Still without his sight, Ruby was quickly feeling overwhelmed and tired.

“Ruby, I have heard much about you,” came the voice of the excited yauja. “I am Itull, the middle brother.”

“Etull?” Ruby repeated, blending the names.

“Almost - I-tull,” the yautja repeated, emphasizing the first vowel. “Have you seen E’taol’s necklace yet?”

“He can’t see anything,” E’taol interjected quickly, and Ruby felt the E’taol squeeze his shoulder reflexively.

“Ouch, E’taol,” Ruby said, brushing all the hands away from his body. He was starting to feel woozy again, and sleep was creeping up on him.

“His temperature rising,” Bachi said from somewhere in the ship. “The cellular simulators are kicking in.”

“What did you do,” Ruby said, trailing off. “You drugged me -“ He started to slip, and E’taol caught him.

“Bachi, you overdid it!” Itull shouted in accusation. Ruby felt a hand push the hair out of his eyes.

“I am not a doctor,” came Bachi’s plain reply. If he said more, Ruby didn’t catch it. The sounds around him were becoming overlapped and hard to discern. All he felt was the warm arms of E’taol, cushioning him as he fainted.

When Ruby woke up, he was back in his shelter on Crolla. Even wrapped in the furs, the human felt cold. A small fire crackled in the stove, but the pathetic flame was nothing compared to the warm air of the spaceship. And the warmth of E’taol.

To his surprise, his sight was restored - E’taol sat at the foot of his bed, arms crossed and fully armored again. He turned when Ruby stirred. The human sat up slowly, feeling the breathing mask on his face shift, as he moved.

“You brought me back here?” Ruby asked, and E’taol nodded.

“Familiar,” the abrupt, cut off recordings were back - the only way for E’taol to speak to Ruby without the ship’s help. “Feeling. Better?”

At E’taol’s question, the groggy Ruby self-analyzed. Though he was still tired, the tickles and aches of his lungs had vanished. He nodded.

“You’ve helped me again,” Ruby sighed. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“Sei-i,” E’taol huffed. “Safe.”

Ruby looked around his shelter again. Months of back-breaking work looked more pathetic than ever. His snares were empty, again. And he had no idea how long Crolla’s winters would be. At last, Ruby’s hand was forced.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, dismayed by his own words, but not too proud to face the truth.