—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.
/ 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. / am Leader and your position was as-
signed, 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 a way 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.