The First Hunter

In the Wake of Betrayal

Bet-Khar

I spent hours tossing and turning last night, sleep evading me as though it, too, had abandoned ship. The reason gnawed at me, lingering in my thoughts far longer than I'd care to admit. It wasn't exactly sleep that I missed—it was the faint heartbeat beside me, her cold, tiny feet always seeking warmth. The shameless hyuman had claimed my bed for three consecutive cycles, curled up like a stubborn parasite. There was something oddly... satisfying about being needed.

She once called me a "duvet." An Earth term, apparently. I have no idea what that is, but her words clung to me anyway. Absurd, yes, but... memorable. I found myself listening for her voice, her incessant hyuman questions. Yautja females don't chatter—at least, not like she does.

I wonder if she's slept at all in Zahraun's quarters, or if she woke, confused, and called for me. Zahraun is honorable, yes, but he's Yautja through and through—a brute in terms of patience and tenderness. The hyuman's softness would complicate things, a puzzle he's not accustomed to handling.

When sleep finally caught me, it was a fleeting, unsatisfying thing. I awoke to a nagging sense of unease. Something was wrong.

I dressed swiftly, ignoring the irritating urge to check on her. Distractions are weaknesses, and I don't tolerate weakness in myself. And yet... I'm still thinking about her fragile heartbeat.

By the time I reached Zahraun's quarters, my instincts were thrumming with urgency. The door stood wide open.

Inside, chaos. Furniture overturned, traces of blood. No sign of her. My pulse quickened—a strange sensation, unsettling and unfamiliar. I activated my bio-mask, scanning for any residual heat signature. Her presence, faint and fading, lingered in the cold space. Hours old.

I engaged my wrist gauntlet to ping her earpiece—the advanced piece of tech I embedded for, of course, her safety. Monitoring her vitals, her movements... and, evidently, my own peace of mind. But now it's off, and I'm blind to her. Frustration burns. Yautja tech is not meant to fail.

I stalked through the ship, following her scent—floral, strange, woven into the cold, metallic air of the warship. My focus sharpened as I connected my wrist gauntlet to the warship's systems, accessing every movement recorded in the last six hours. Nothing registered her departure. But there, in the logs, a critical detail: Celtic's stealthcraft departed precisely three hours ago.

A pulse of rage flickered through me, hot and lethal.

I stormed toward the bridge, ready to tear something apart. What had Celtic done? Why take her? Zahraun wouldn't allow it. But the suspicion gnawing at my mind wouldn't quiet.

Zahraun's presence caught me off guard as I entered the bridge. He was pacing, his expression mirroring my own.

"Did you know?" he growled, barely controlled.

"I just found out." My voice was low, dangerous. Tension thickened between us, silent but intense.

Bal-Khan worked calmly through the comms, scanning networks, his focus unbroken. The contrast irritated me. I turned back to Zahraun.

"Why did Celtic take her?" I demanded.

Zahraun's eyes narrowed. "Ask Cet-Khar," he replied, venom thick in his voice.

"Because you tried to mark her," Bal-Khan interjected, his tone dry as he continued typing.

Zahraun's glare burned. "She smelled of Bet-Khar. He tried to mark her first. I simply responded as any male would."

I froze. The accusation struck me. "What? Explain."

Cet-Khar entered, his tone far too amused. "Your little hyuman is triggering biological responses in Zahraun that he apparently cannot control." His gaze flitted between us, observing our reactions with interest.

I narrowed my gaze. "I don't understand."

"Hyuman females," Cet-Khar continued with relish, "experience cycles of fertility far more frequently than our own. Zahraun's response was... instinctive. A matter of pheromones and primal impulses."

Zahraun growled, fists clenched, a tense fury radiating from him.

"Hyuman females are biologically reactive," Cet-Khar went on, far too entertained by the whole affair. "Their emotions seem to affect their cycles. It's disruptive, to say the least."

Bal-Khan snorted. "So, we're to endure Zahraun's moods every cycle? Fantastic."

Ignoring them, I processed the information. Did I let her sleep beside me while she was in heat? The idea was unsettling. But it didn't matter. Focus.

"The tracker embedded in her earpiece is foolproof," I said, meeting Zahraun's gaze. "It records and transmits, even in low-power mode."

Zahraun's scowl was thunderous. I continued, unbothered. "The warship, Celtic's craft, my gauntlet—all collect data in real time, even in dormant states. I ensure that they do."

Bal-Khan raised a brow, smirking. "How many protocols can you break in a day, Bet-Khar?"

Cet-Khar grinned. "Impressive, little brother. You may yet outdo us all."

I shrugged, unrepentant. "Necessary. I've always tested the limits."

I accessed Celtic's craft's logs. "Three hours ago. They passed through a wormhole."

Zahraun's expression shifted, an eerie calm settling over him. "Then we use transdimensional mapping. Each ship leaves a residual imprint."

I nodded, fingers moving over the controls. "We'll track the harmonic distortions, specifically the resonance from Celtic's warp-core emissions. It'll lead us straight to him."

Bal-Khan studied the data. "Wormholes often lead to rogue planets or star systems. Predicting the exact location will be... complex."

I overlayed the star map, narrowing the options. "The tracker points to three systems: Kráľomoc, Tkkar, or TrES. Once we near one, the resonance system will lock on to their location."

Zahraun straightened, his voice low and commanding. "We pursue the nearest system. Engage faster-than-light travel. Failure is not an option."

Bal-Khan sighed, shaking his head. "One of these days, Bet-Khar, you'll get us executed by the Council."

Zahraun's lips twitched. "If he ever stops breaking rules, perhaps."

Cet-Khar grinned. "Unlikely."

I shrugged. "I've always stayed ahead of them."

The ship's hyperdrive surged to life, the hum reverberating through the hull. My thoughts drifted back to her—frightened, perhaps, thinking I'd left her to fend for herself. Annoyance bubbled up at the thought, directed as much at myself as at her absence.

I glanced at the star map, tracking the path we'd charted. My claws tapped against the console, but my mind wandered to her quirks, her irritating habit of claiming her space, her quiet breaths as she drifted beside me, as if she belonged there.

Under my breath, I muttered, "Hang in there, little hyuman parasite. We're coming."