CHAPTER 4:

  The Mother of Hunters

  4.1 – Alba

  Zweihander spent a full hour trying to get information out of the humanoid. It was an exhausting process.

  The Alter didn’t hurt him any further. There was no point. He wasn’t a sadist, and the problem wasn’t a lack of cooperation.

  After that single gut punch the creature had gone quiet, almost tamed — though watching his entire team die so effortlessly might have broken him even earlier.

  The real obstacle was language. The alien knew only a handful of UN.SY. words and they were a dozen different ways to say don’t hurt me.

  Nothing really that would build a conversation.

  But Alba didn’t take part in that clumsy interrogation.

  Even while they struggled to understand each other — turning simple questions into ridiculous theater — she didn’t step in.

  Her being uncooperative wasn’t about the bizarre interrogation or even the ugly discovery that these aliens ate people.

  She simply didn’t like how things were turning out. She almost looked back at the previous days in the forest with weird nostalgia.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  She was Navy — on paper — but had never been in a real fight before this planet.

  Alba was sure that was about to change.

  And watching Zweihander butcher those creatures — creatures that, in her head, had started to look too human — had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.

  “Hey — again, are you alright?”

  He was standing in front of her now.

  She glanced past him at the Interpreter, sitting quietly a few meters away.

  Not a hint of rebellion in the Jaart’s eyes.

  That was the name of the race he belonged to — she understood that much from afar.

  “Ah… sorry. I’m okay. I just tend to… overthink things sometimes.”

  “Overthink, you say.” Zweihander paused, then sighed.

  “I know. What you saw… wasn’t a pretty scene. That’s not the same as killing beasts. These aliens can speak. But do you want to end up as their meal?”

  What do you think would’ve happened if we found them alive?

  The question he’d asked kept hunting her. The same scene could have been repeated with UN.SY. officers.

  And she thought those officers were not far away.

  Alba knew she had already chosen a side. She just wasn’t ready for what that choice entailed.

  “No, Zwei. I know you did the right thing. I couldn’t feel their breath — luckily — but I felt they were hostile too.”

  Skyros was probably held with human prisoners. What would happen to them?

  Zweihander sat beside her.

  “Anyway, in my conversation with our new friend, I picked up a few things." He paused for a moment, glaring at her.

  "Thanks for the help, by the way. Didn't you say you wanted to be the brains?” That last line dripped sarcasm.

  Deserved.

  Alba didn't offer any justification.

  “There’s a conflict in this part of the forest — the Jaarts against survivors from the landing pods," Zweihander went on. "A conflict UN.SY., despite all its tech, is losing.”

  “I don’t know how many they’ve killed, but they’re holding some of the humans captive. And our friend confirmed something: the Alter they pulled from the capsule — he’s alive. Skyros is in their camp.”

  “And I think I know where that camp is,” Zweihander added.

  No relief came from the revelation.

  “And what are we going to do? Exchange him for Skyros?” She tried. Maybe there was a non-violent path.

  “I don’t think this guy’s worth much to them, honestly.”

  Zweihander stood.

  “No, Alba. We’re going to attack them — tonight.”