Foster, Alan Dean Aliens vs Predator War()

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matters, there was going to be a war and all John C. wanted was to get the hell out of Their way.
19
Noguchi walked purposefully through the ship, the three yautja she passed ignoring her completely. If
they saw the burner strapped to her back, they didn't think it important. She'd been dis-honored, after all;
what did they care if she chose to wander around in full armor, armed or not? That was her assumption,
anyway, and all that mattered was that no one try to stop her as she made her way to op-erations.
TheShell's control room wasn't overly large, one long console running the length of the room with two
bolted chairs, a wide front viewscreen, and the main terminal for the ship's computer. Everything in Clan
culture was based around the Hunt, their technology advanced enough to make things like piloting
ex-tremely simple; Hunters didn't waste time or energy in areas where there was no honor to be gained.
She stood just outside control in the large, empty shuttle dock where Topknot's transport usually sat,
preparing herself for her first action. The two yautja in operations were older Hunters, past their prime, as
most shipworkers seemed to be. The attitude of yautja toward their elders was respectful, a kind of
unspoken understanding existing that the "retired"could Hunt, but had simply decided not to; in this way,
old Hunters that weren't lucky enough to have died in battle were still worthy of regard.
They don't Hunt anymore, but that doesn't mean they're any less dangerous.If anything, the fact that
they'd sur-vived to become old in such a violent culture spoke very highly of their skills. They wouldn't be
expecting to be attacked on a ship, but she'd still have to be fast and efficient, not a movement wasted.
The door was open, making it easier for her to slip silently into the room, walking on the balls of her
pad-ded feet. Neither of the Hunters turned away from the console or from their conversation, probably
trading stories of trophy Hunts. They were dressed only in har-ness tops and loincloths, no weapons
within reach, and Noguchi managed to get within a meter before one of them noticed her. It was one of
the few Hunters whose name she could actually pronounce, Prient'de, and he broke off talking, his tusks
flaring wide with alarm
and Noguchi snapped out her wrist blades even as she swung, catching Prient'de under his chin in a
swift and sure killing strike, dropping to one knee and turning, hand coming up as droplets of pale blood
flew
and she rammed the wet blades into the other's lower belly as he rose, realizing too late that the
ooman had come to kill them. She'd never named this other, and as he clutched at the strange coils of gut
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that slid between his claws, toppling, hissing weakly, she thought that "Dead" suited him quite well. The
light green, thin liquid that served as yautja blood was hot and smelled almost sweet, the scent filling the
room as it flowed across the floor.
No going back, she was committed, and the thought made her own blood run hot. She didn't feel proud
of having killed the unarmed Hunters, but there
was no guilt, either. She felt driven, she felt alive with intent, and there was a sense of righteousness in
her heart that she knew would only get stronger.
Noguchi walked back to the door and closed it, pushing the lock control and turning the manual bolt.
Given time and tools, the Hunters could get through but she had a diversion in mind, something to take
their minds off of the fact that they'd been hijacked.
No time like the present. She sat in front of the console, lifting the arm control from next to one of the
small, circular monitors. The system activated; a series of symbols scrolled across the screen on a
backdrop of red. Topknot had shown her once how their system worked, and he was going to regret it.
///can figure out what does what . . .
TheShell's system and probably all yautja drives, she didn't know was image-based, each tiny
picture a representation of an action or thing. All she had to do was access the right area and connect the
symbols in the correct order.
She touched the sensor "pen" to a silhouette of a yautja ship and another set of images popped up a
claw, a mask, lines representing doors, other symbols that she didn't know. There was an egg in the set,
and she tapped that one; this time, the image of the queen came up, surrounded by new pictures.
She touched the queen, connecting it to a hand, what looked like a series of knots, a triangle, and back
to the queen. There was a flash of green light, a warn-ing with new options available; Noguchi repeated
the series and this time there was no warning flash. In-stead, the image of the queen appeared
alone and from the symbols that scrolled out beneath, she saw that she had been successful.
Bam bam bam!
Startled, Noguchi turned, saw a pair of faces through the thick window in the door, their mouths moving
and mandibles flexing. They'd discovered her sooner than she'd expected, but it didn't matter or it
wouldn't, in a few moments. One of them signaled "stop," fist out in front, and Noguchi turned away.
Turned back to the screen, hoping that piloting the ship would be as easy as releasing the queen.
So now she knew what it felt like to be an outcast from two worlds. She'd turned her back on humanity
because she'd never felt at home there, and now, by her own hand, she'd erased what Broken Tusk's
mark meant to the Clan. She would be Hunted by them, ac-tively, and if they caught her, she wouldn't
die quickly.
In that moment, she decided that she was happier than she'd ever been in her life.
If he hadn't had the shit so thoroughly kicked out of him, Jess probably could have managed to refuel the
Nemesis shuttle on his own; not as fast as with two ex-perienced people, but having to walk Ellis through
the process took a few minutes. Each passing second stretched like eternity, and though Jess's anger had
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only increased with the beating, he felt like he'd learned his lesson on letting it get the better of him, at
least for the moment. They had to get gone. Briggs and his other guard could be back at any time, with
rein-forcements.
And if that's not incentive enough, something is very fucking wrong with this picture.
The tilted platform, the strange rustlings in the trees far below, the alarm that wouldn't shut off. It wasn't
possible, but the station had a deserted feel to it, as if everyone had mysteriously disappeared. On the
plus side, the freaky circumstances had stirred enough adrenaline through his bruised body that he was
capa-ble of moving. But there was also a feeling in the air like death, like no matter what they did, their
future didn't include making it off Bunda. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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