Aliens vs Predator Omnibus

by Steve Perry

  That brought a smile to his lips; sometimes, simple was best.

  After a time, he drifted back into a light, dreamless doze, thoughts of revenge keeping him warm as the shuttle spun through the endless black.

  * * *

  As they got closer to the egg chamber, the stink of moldy flesh grew, a smell like sickness and rot and the desperation of a slaughterhouse. Noguchi heard the soft hissing of hidden drones, but the only movement in the shadowy, blighted structure was their own. Attack inside of a nest was highly unlikely.

  In spite of their size, the Hunters moved with hardly a sound, only a whisper of padded armor brushing against itself and the occasional soft splash of a clawed foot in pooled and fetid water, those noises from the unBlooded. Xenophobic and violent, maybe, but an experienced Hunter had no equal in grace or stealth when he put his mind to it. There were no female yautja Hunters that she knew of, although the males did speak of their counterparts respectfully; in truth, she simply didn’t know very much about the intricacies of their culture, even after a year. She’d grown tired of asking after being openly ignored for so long…

  Her mind was wandering. A defense against the smells and heat, against the memory of what had happened on Ryushi. The alien queen accepted almost any large animal to act as incubator for her young; on Ryushi, it had been rhynth at first, the hatched face-huggers implanting the slow-moving, cattlelike animals, the queen forming a makeshift nest on the transport ship Lector. Of course, humans had been next, and she’d met the Leader Dachande in the subsequent nightmare; he’d brought his students to the seeded planet, unaware of the human colony, and the un-Blooded males had decided to Hunt “ooman” after Broken Tusk had been wounded.

  There were strict rules against Hunting intelligent species, she knew, but she also knew that there were many yautja who wanted those “laws” repealed; Broken Tusk’s students had proved that clearly enough.

  Together, she and the injured Leader had taken out the queen and saved most of the colonists, Broken Tusk slaying several of his students for what they had done. His dying act had been to engrave his jagged symbol between her eyes, the sign that she was worthy of Hunt…

  …and you’re still trying to distract yourself, to keep your mind busy. Because you know what’s coming.

  Topknot had already led the majority of the Hunters around a curve ahead, the dark matter secreted by the drones forming extremely hard and somehow light absorbent walls, all of the hive as sleek and organic in appearance as she imagined melted rock would be. From the now nearly overpowering reek, she knew that they had reached the egg chamber. And while Noguchi was impatient to meet the queen, she wasn’t looking forward to—

  —to this.

  Holding her burner at the ready, Noguchi stepped into the hot and shadowy, stinking lair, absorbing the environment as Topknot directed several of the students to unload their equipment. According to Hunter lore, the bugs had evolved on many worlds simultaneously; it saved them from having to take responsibility for spreading the breed so that they might Hunt. And although she had worked not to concern herself with philosophies that she had no hope of changing, the result of the yautja “seeding” was what was in front of them now. The incubators were different, but in almost every other respect, it was just like the Lector.

  The ruptured bodies strung to the walls of the Lector had primarily been those of rhynth; the creatures here were vaguely humanoid, four long, fleshy pink limbs, heads with two eyes, hands with digits. The slack, open mouths were filled with pointed teeth—open, perhaps, in expressions of pain and terror. The large empty shells in front of them, their fleshy petals peeled open, and the holes in their strange pink chests, burst out from inside, told the rest of the familiar story in simple strokes. Noguchi could see over a dozen of the life-forms from where she stood, hanging randomly from the walls like dead ornaments, and the chamber stretched off into shadows too deep for her to imagine how many more had been implanted. What little light there was came from small, uneven holes in the ceiling high above, filtering down in sickly streaks.

  At least these are dead, they’re not suffering anymore…

  A useless rationalization. Wherever the bugs went, the habitat was destroyed, certainly wiping out entire species; all kinds of indigenous life would suffer for untold generations. And on a more immediate level, Noguchi could hear rasping, mewling sounds coming from somewhere across the vast space, soft and droning. The noises were not bug; she could only hope that the living incubators were deeply asleep, perhaps dreaming of life, spared the horror of their fates until the very end.

  Topknot signaled and spoke, telling the chosen eight to ready themselves. They hefted their coils of rope, a heavy, braided leatherlike material that was stronger than anything humans had. Topknot’s briefing aboard the ship had been fairly straightforward; the capture team would rope the queen and hold her down while the Leader cut her from her egg sac. The other four Hunters—herself included—would perform the basically unnecessary task of watching for drone attack.

  The Leader moved easily into the dark, veering left, the others falling into position behind him. Noguchi covered the right rear flank, her frustration eased only a little by the sight of Shorty covering right front. It was nice that the spotlight wasn’t on her for a change. As senior Hunters on the ship, Topknot, Scar, and Three-Spot were used to her, as were the regular crew—mostly Blooded yautja too old to fight anymore. However they felt about it, they didn’t study her every move on Hunt. But with each new training group, Noguchi was made painfully aware of how unprecedented her presence was; they watched her as she might once have watched some animal performing tricks. By fucking up, Shorty had taken some of the scrutiny off of her; his peers would be watching to see if he was competent, the unBlooded always eager to improve their caste—

  —a low hiss. From the blackness in front of them.

  Topknot stopped and raised his claw, the ropers spreading out. Noguchi’s heart was hammering and she was barely aware of the sudden smile on her face as she sidled farther right—

  —and with a thundering, piercing scream, the queen lunged forward from the dark, her multiple talons reaching out to rip and tear, her grinning, wet jaws snapping for blood.

  The yautja fell back, leaping quickly out of reach. As expected, the queen was unwilling to jeopardize her unborn children by abandoning her egg sac, a long diaphanous tube filled with her developing brood. She hissed and shrieked at the Hunters from atop her gelid throne, slick drool sliding from her incisors, her inner jaws lowering into a strike position.

  Noguchi gazed up at her in awe, struck by her incredible design, by the mammoth shining comb that swept back from her eyeless, phallic skull. Her four arms snatched and clawed, her entire body trembling with rage. Twice as big as a drone, a thousand times as deadly because she could think.

  “Dahdtoudi!” Scar growled, and Noguchi shook herself at the sound of her Hunter name, forcing her attention away from the feral queen. She stared off into the empty dark, holding her burner ready, reminding herself that there would be time later; now, she had to fulfill her assigned task. No matter how pointless.

  The queen screamed as the Hunters went to work, her seething fury echoing through the stinking dark. And somehow, the sound made Noguchi feel much better about how her life was turning out.

  4

  Things were fine until Three-Spot lost his focus.

  The queen was a force unto herself, a writhing tangle of arms and teeth and fury—but there were eight full-grown yautja holding her down, a Hunter for each limb and two holding her head back, their ropes hooked around the widest section of her dusky comb. Three-Spot, one of Topknot’s Blooded, was braced in front of her, his rope wrapped several times around her upper left wrist.

  Noguchi stood only a few meters from the struggling yautja, forcing herself to continue her watch and running through what would happen next. Once the queen was subdued—as close to it as they could hope to get—Topknot, would pull his h
’sai-de, a kind of scythe-sword, and slice the thick membrane between her and her egg sac. At once, the Hunters would start pulling her forward, moving to keep their captive off-balance. Those holding her arms would crisscross around her, tying both sets to her ribbed chest. With her head still held back, they’d lead her out of the hive, the Hunters making certain that the queen was constantly aware of the burners aimed at her; the breed’s reverence for the egg-layer and the queen’s own survival instincts would keep the drones at bay. As long as the Hunters holding the ropes were vigilant, the walk back to the ship should be uneventful—until it was time to get her aboard. Topknot had explained that then was often the most dangerous part. The queen would know it was her last chance and—

  Three-Spot let out a grunting gasp and Noguchi spun in time to see the Hunter jerked off his feet. The queen screeched, raising her arm high, swinging the yautja around easily before slamming him to the floor of the nest.

  In the split second it took for her to assess the situation, Noguchi saw that Topknot had already cut her loose—and in that same instant, the queen took one thundering step forward—

  —and brought her giant, taloned foot down on Three-Spot’s chest. The splintering crunch was audible even over the mother bug’s screams and Topknot’s hissing commands, the heavy bone of the Hunter’s breastplate giving like dry wood.

  The capture team was in trouble. Free from her ovipositor sac and with one arm loose, the queen sidled to the right, the movement swift and graceful. Four of the Hunters were knocked to the ground, and although they still held on to the restraints, the queen’s freedom was imminent. She shook her head from side to side, screaming, leaning back in order to lunge—

  —and Noguchi was moving before she could think about it, dropping her burner and taking two running, leaping steps to snatch at Three-Spot’s rope.

  The queen saw her coming just before Noguchi grabbed the restraint. The black-clawed foot came up, dripping with yautja blood—but she was too late. Noguchi’s gloved grip was solid and she fell backwards, becoming deadweight as she pushed her heels into the ground.

  A year with the Clan and Noguchi’s strength astounded even her, but her weight was less than half of a grown yautja’s. She only had to manage for the few critical seconds that Topknot would need—

  —and they had it. The cries of the Hunters told her that they were in control again, as they sounded off their positions to the Leader. Noguchi held on to the rope but didn’t look to Topknot, transfixed by the snarling queen. Four meters tall in a crouch. As close as she was, the strangely polished look of her, the incredible mass and raw power, the absence of heat radiating from her like she was drawing life into herself was—

  Whack!

  The back of Topknot’s hand against her shoulder was enough to knock her over and roll her across the dark, stinking floor, another Hunter already at her position.

  Noguchi could have turned the fall into a shoulder roll and come up, but she knew from painful experience that she’d be sorry for it. Landing on her back, she immediately moved into a crouch and brought her hands up, palms out as if to ward off a blow, tipping her face down and looking up at Topknot from under her lashes, the mask’s shaded eye slits tinting him red. Between hisses, clicks and movement, yautja language was often complicated; this one was easy.

  I submit. You are stronger.

  Topknot raised his claw as if to hit her again, then pointed at the queen, restrained again by the capture team. He growled out the sound of Three-Spot’s name and tilted his head forward. You were wrong to take Three-Spot’s place.

  Noguchi didn’t, couldn’t respond until he signaled that he was done. Her cheeks burning, she held her submissive pose and waited for him to finish.

  Topknot made a fist and tapped his chest, then pointed at her, clattering an angry phrase punctuated by hissing, one of the many sayings that Hunters used to communicate. I am Leader and your position was assigned, the movements told her. She didn’t know the direct translation for the proverb, but the gist of his words was that the failure of one was the failure of all. She’d heard it more than once in the past months; it was one of the Leader’s favorite reprimands.

  Without another word or sign, Topknot turned away and moved back to command the capture team.

  Noguchi slowly got to her feet and went to retrieve her burner, not looking at anyone, knowing that those not busy with the queen were watching. Watching and judging, and she didn’t need to see the gleeful, derisive stares or the raised mandibles; she already knew what that looked like.

  They would have lost her. If I hadn’t acted, they would have lost her and more would have died.

  It didn’t matter. She’d branded herself an outsider yet again, shown herself to be unreliable by deserting her guard. It was ridiculous, it was away of thinking that made no sense—

  —and it is the Hunter’s way.

  Noguchi picked up her burner and waited for instruction, humiliated and furious, reminded yet again how very different she was from them—and that no matter how hard she tried, the Hunter’s way seemed always beyond her reach.

  They didn’t like her—and she found out just how very much they wanted her gone when they got the queen back to the ship.

  5

  The call came just after Selee’ had serviced him, a full rubdown front and back with a delicious finale; the girl’s fine mouth and fingers drained the last of his travel tensions away better than a hot shower and a stim shot ever could, the suite’s muted lighting and softly scented air giving the experience an air of privilege. Selee’ had offered to bathe him afterward but Lucas Briggs knew better than to overindulge himself; he’d come to Zen’s Respite for business rather than pleasure, and he’d do well not to let the two entwine—or not much, at least. He tipped her handsomely and had just seen her to the door when the vidscreen started to chime.

  The coolly composed face on the screen belonged to Julia Russ, officially the Tri-Sec Communications Coordinator for Weyland/Yutani’s DS900s. Unofficially, she was as ambitiously ruthless as she was brilliant, a renowned Company cannibal—and in direct competition with him for the next spot on the Applications Board. Not only was she a tremendous bitch, each meeting with her led him to believe that some women douched with liquid nitrogen. And found it too warm.

  He smiled pleasantly, perfectly aware that having to report to him was torture for her; the loathing was entirely mutual, and Russ hadn’t been informed about the 949 situation until late in the game.

  Whereas I was there at the beginning, dear heart. Choke on it…

  “Lucas. I see you’re getting settled in,” she said blandly, her pale blue gaze taking in the silken robe and mussed hair. “If this is an inconvenient time…”

  “How nice of you to ask,” he said, deliberately keeping his tone casual. If there was anything she hated, it was being taken lightly. “No, not at all. How are you, I haven’t seen you since the last Earthside con. Keeping busy?”

  Julia matched his smile, her eyes like chips of ice. “I’m well, thank you. I just received the numbers on our scan—”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve finished already,” he interrupted. My, isn’t that adorable, you did your whole job just as quick as a tick!

  She gritted her teeth at him and continued. “—and the ST signal wasn’t picked up, which suggests that the exo suit was taken from the site prior to the explosion. The spread pattern is such that my people aren’t able to trace passage, but we should now assume that at least one member of the team managed to escape, taking the MAX with them.”

  The short range ST beacon couldn’t be disabled, which meant that the MAX had been taken; someone had survived. It was what he’d hoped to hear, but he wasn’t going to let her see it. “Yes, we expected as much,” he said, stifling a deliberate yawn. “Any pickups on the Nemesis?”

  “No. My field man believes it was destroyed; it’s always possible that they disabled the tracking boards, but it’s unlikely. We’ll keep looking, of
course, but I think all we can do now is wait to see where they set down. If they set down.”

  Briggs nodded. The joy of goading her was fizzling, his thoughts already turning to where their runner might be headed. If the Nemesis had been lost, the suit must have been taken out on a shuttle or hopper—something small, or Julia’s team would have spotted the trail. Disheartening news, considering how easy it was to disappear out in the DS sectors.

  But an emergency craft isn’t likely to get very far, either…

  Zen’s Respite was close to where 949 had been, less than three days on his Sun Jumper, and he’d come on the very slight possibility that someone on the Nemesis team might have made it out. Someone who’d had access to the Trader’s log.

  Someone who, if I can find them, if they have the information, and if I can make the deal, would absolutely assure my position with the Board.

  “Worried about something, Lucas?” Julia asked sweetly.

  Briggs frowned, tilting his head to one side. “Actually, yes. You’ve been to Zen’s Respite recently… is Chin still cooking in the restaurant here? I heard rumor that he moved when the Company remodeled his kitchen.”

  If looks could maim. Julia’s composure slipped for only a second, but the pure hatred that flickered across her features was truly a sight to behold. She reached forward and the screen went blank. Briggs grinned; not even a good-bye.

  The pleasure was short-lived, quickly giving way to frustration. For a moment he sat and stared at the dead screen, searching for a way to hurry things along. He’d put Irwin and the guards on standby and double-check that the channels were all straight-lined to him…

  …and wait. I can wait, and hope that they turn up somewhere Company or Company friendly, that the manager bothered to read the alert, and that whatever C4 channel jockey picks them up has the sense to report it.