Cloaked

Exile

Scai'k POV
Yautja language

I splashed the makeshift training apparatus in front of me with a vengeful hiss. Dirt flowed out of the burlap sack dangling from the ceiling, and I imagined it as blood flowing from a fresh kill. Without my best weapons nor the training facilities aboard the mothership, I was forced to resort to impromptu gadgets I made myself. Although they were certainly lacking sophistication, they were sufficient in allowing me prepare for the imminent fight I would soon undergo. I cursed my father under my breath as a slashed again, picturing his loathsome expression the last time I saw his face.

A discreet smile crept up my mandibles as I drove my blade through the sack with a final blow. The thought of plunging my wristblades through my father's heart nearly brought me joy for the first time in many moons. The crumbled contents spilled out onto the floor before my feet, and I sheathed my blades with a sigh. As more dirt tumbled out of the punctured bag, I returned to my sobering reality and withdrew my smile.

My eyes surveyed the claw marks on the wall behind where the bag had been hanging. The white, vertical lines covered a substantial portion of the wall, starkly emerging from the gray paint behind them. Each mark signified one Yautjan day since being exiled from my clan. I drove my claw into the wall and added one more mark. Each slash I carved was one day closer to my mother's death, but also served as a testament to my mission to clear her name and save her life.

I shook and pounded my balled fist into the wall with a hiss of rage.

Ever since my father had exiled me from our clan, all I could think about was my mother. She had been falsely accused of being a badblood, but my Arbitrator father ordered me to execute her in front of the clan. When I had refused, he had deemed me too weak to be a part of the clan, and exiled me, stating that the only way I could prove my worth was by bringing him the skull of a xenomorph queen. The memory of our last interaction returned to me as clear as day.

*****

I was being hauled by my father through a crowd of Yautja all observing something in the common hall. The Yautja bowed politely, some giving me pitying looks, as I was dragged to the middle of the crowd. I sucked in my breath when I realized what everyone had been staring at.

My mother was hunched over on the ground. She had very little clothing on, and huge whip marks lined her back. Her breathing was shallow and raspy. Green blood dripped onto the floor from her various wounds.

I slowly turned to my father. "What happened to her?!" I hissed, spreading my mandibles. I rose to my full height and looked him directly in the eye. Many of the Yautja in the crowd gasped at me.

My father narrowed his eyes. "No pup of mine will speak to me like that," he spat. "That female is a badblood. She was reported being seen with another male." As he spoke, his voice grew louder and harsher.

I looked away with a quiet growl. My own mother? She would never cheat on my father! They were the happiest and most loyal pair in the clan!

How dare he accuse her!

Movement caught my eye. My mother was shaking her head. "I never!" She gasped, collapsing. "The one who reported reported my so-called "crime" was a rival of my brother! He wanted to get revenge! He should be the one punished! Not-"

She stopped speaking and and rolled on her back, breathing heavily. She coughed and sputtered.

I gasped, "Mother!", falling into my knees at her side. I clasped the thin yautja's hand gently before her eyes slid shut and her breathing leveled. She had passed out.