The Hunt and the Hunter....(semi-closed)

[DarthHERA]

Moving down the long corrider of the Base entrance, Hera entered into the turbo lift and took it down several levels to the heart of the Fortress - the base Headquarters.

It had been many months since Hera had come to this one certain area of the HQ other than to continue regular equipment checks and monitor their readouts. Tonight, however, was different and there was much work to do in preparation.

Seeing the crewman who had drawn the lateshift tonight, jump up startled...he knew he should have left that sport illustrated edition of the Women Warriors in his quarters.

Hera ignored his obvious unease and tossed him a data disk. Fumbling to catch the disk with one hand, the magazine dangling from his grasping fingers of the other, the crewman tried lamely to save face.
"Good evening Mistress"

Hera held him in a cold stare.

"Enter the information as directed. But give a 12 hour delay on the second cryocase. I wish to deal with them one at a time." I will be back in an hour's time to see the first ones progress. Do not open the case no matter what. Understood?"

The crewman nodded.

Hera turned to exit the room, with a glance back she focused her eyes onto the magazine still in the mans hand and it instantly ignited into a blaze of blue flame as the Sith energized force energy into it. "Not on my time" she snarled.

Exiting, she left the man to his orders and the sucking of his burnt fingers.

edit sig ~ all fixed

[HeraCLONE 01]

The clone's eyes fluttered open. The last face she saw before she
had gone into the cryo-freeze was the first one she saw as she was revived from it. It had been over a year since her creation by the ROS and a good part of that had been spent in this pod. The transparent encasing slid open and the clone stepped unsteadily forward, Hera held out a stabling hand to assist her.

The reviving process was slow in comparison to the initial freezing and was designed that way to help limit any adverse effects on the "item". But side effects were still usually evident, and this was exactly the case with Clone 01.

Her vision was slightly blurred and her motor functions slow. She reached out a hand to a counters edge to steady herself, but underestimated the distance and clumsily missed it, half falling against it.

Hera turned to the crewman who had stood silently watching, fascinated and a little uneasy, at the two identical women. "I will take this one to the Med-bay for observation and standard routine analysis. You have entered the data for the second one as I directed?"

The crewman nodded. "All is set up. There were no problems with the first reviving process and the second should prove the same."

"Good then. 02 is already somewhat compromised from the cloning process and we will have to use extra caution with her."

Moving slowly, Hera aiding her where necessary, the Clone was guided to the Medical level.

[DarthHERA]

As the clone rested in the sterile environment of the medical bay, complete diagnostic tests were done. Neural and routine vital signs
were checked every 15 minutes and all was satisfactory. Though Hera was pleased, she still could not look at the clone without feeling a certain "weirdness". She had not had much time to get accustomed to these creations before they had been placed into stasis, their original purpose having been disolved along with the ROS so long ago.

As she scanned the medical readouts the medbay doors slid open and hoverbed with a bloodied crewman, along with a flurry of activity and noise, burst into the room.

"What happened here?" Hera demanded.

As medics and staff bustled around, a crewman in coveralls explained that this man, along with another, were beginning to unload a recent shipment of missles that had just lately arrived by transport at the base. He wasnt sure exactly what had happened but heard the men screaming and when he investigated found them in a bloody heap. No sign of the attacker to be found.

Hera examined the wounded crewman breifly. His wounds were terrible and inflicted in a very savage manner. She doubted he would survive.

"Where is the other man, his coworker?"

Lowering his voice so the injured crewman wouldnt hear and add to his anxiety, "they are still scraping up what parts of him they can."

Hera growled and left without another word heading straight to the cargo bay. Over her communicator, she commanded an internal alert to be sounded and all exits of the Base to be sealed off. "No one gets in or out."

The clone, eyes wide in shock, couldnt stop looking at the bloodied mess on the hoverbed across from her. She felt nothing, but could not stop thinking macarbly, "so much blood".

[Kevtonta]

His feet stomped rhythmically, his massive alien frame bending the underside of the cooling vent with every step. His breathing was low and hoarse as he stopped finally to clean off the blood and flesh from his extended wrist blades. He retracted them and crouched low beside a small foodstuff supply locker, studying the contents.

Scanning back and forth he found no heat signatures, ripped the grate from its foundation and crawled into the large room. He sniffed the air through his bio helmet and picked up a trace of edibles. Even with his extreme weight, he moved gracefully between the tall shelves until he came to the source of the scent. He studied it closely and touched it. It was gritty and processed. He swiped it aside to the floor and walked over more. There it was. Fresh meat. He examined it. It was unprocessed and fleshy, still strong with the scent of blood. He reached up and tore it from the hook, then set it down carefully on the shelf. Reaching back, he released the bindings on his helmet, and lifted it up over his head. He grabbed the meat and thrust it up to his open pincers, thrashing and tearing it with his teeth like a primitive. He was starved. When he travelled in that weapons shuttle he had no means of eating.

Once finished, he dropped the bones to the floor, picked clean. He set his helmet down once again and looked around. The blue picture was good enough for him to see the outlines and details of everything. He could make out a doorway. He stepped towards it and stopped, hearing sounds increasing in volume. The language of the prey. He stood perfectly still as the door opened. Two of them, one armed with an energy weapon. They other seemed to have something draped over his regular clothes. An apron, he believed. The armed one leaned against the wall, while the apron wearer shuffled a metal cart down between the shelves.

"So what slop are you servin' us today, Gilney?"

The apron wearer emitted an odd sound, "You bastards wouldn't know good food if you ate with the Emperor himself."

The armed one emitted the same odd sound. Ha ha? He never understood it but he heard it frequently among the prey in groups. The armed one turned to face him and stopped making noise. His eyes went wide and he seemed to study him. He couldn't see him of course. His cloak was on, but his presense and the thin outline of himself would alert any who was aware.

"Gilney, come look at--ARRGGH!" The armed one pitched and squirmed on his wrist blades, bleeding heavily. He lifted him high and tossed him into the wall. He was dead before impact.

The apron wearer stared down between the shelves at the scene and dropped the cans he was carrying. He stumbled and skidded on the icy floor trying to get away, then ran across the back of the room and slid into the wall.

His odor is strong. To him that usually meant fear. Walking slowly down to the rear and looking at the apron wearer, clutching at his ankle, showing great heat all over, told him something. The fear was accompanied by pain. He could make it accurate. The apron wearer made a high pitched sound when the outline of his arm raised up with the armed spear gun. The prey knew what was to come. The spear gun shot a metal twin spear. Each short end ran down and connected to the same metal piece, which was connected to another piece that hooked into the gun. In all, it was constructed as a crude looking "Y".

He deactivated the cloak to reveal his seven foot frame and the triple red targeting lines forming a triangle on the apron wearer's forehead. The apron wearer kept making the same high pitched sound until he fired.

He piled the two bodies against the corner and glided his wrist blades across one, then the other, until two blood soaked and skinless carcasses remained. He stomped down the room to the open grate and crawled back inside the vent system.

The hunt was on. Kevtonta was prepared.

[DarthHERA]

The cargo bay was alive with activity. Men, armed with blasters
and assorted armaments were going over every square inch of the area.
Others were organising a systematic search grid of the entire base.

Remkah, Captain of the SFF Base, approached Hera to update her on what they knew so far.

"It looks like whatever it is has taken the venting
system out of the immediate area. The Base security sensor
readouts are unreliable."

Hera's face darkened into a scowl, "Unreliable? Just what does that mean? Are you telling me we cant find whatever is roaming about my Base?"

Remkah's reply remained level. "Well, not exactly. We get it in....bits."

She gave him an irritated glance and waited for him to continue.

"Whatever it is seems to cloak itself from our scanners. We got a line on it, and then just like that *Remkah snapped his fingers for emphasis - a habit that always annoyed Hera* its gone again and we cant pick it back up. What we do know, is it is a biological, not mechanical. I got a man searching the database for any record of the biological signature we had. As to why its here, or why it attacked, is up for grabs. The last known place we had it was in the supply level. I've just got word that it was "busy" there too. We should take a look."

*******************************


Hera was in a rage. Two more men dead..one of them the best cook she'd ever had. Their corpses a disgusting mess, revolting the other crew members that stood by. The sight didnt bother the Sith, death is death. Simple. But she was outraged that this thing whatever it was had the arrogance to bring an assault on her base and her crew - slinking around as it did so. She much prefered an open fight. She definitely did not like having something using her comrades as fodder for its aggressive tendencies...or was it more than just random violence?

Hera crouched and examined the corpses closer. They had been skinned skillfully. Their fleshly coverings lifted from their frames with great care. They had not been mauled or eaten at all. And, judging by the evidence in the cooler, attacking for food was not the purpose.

She turned to Remkah who, she could tell, was having the same thoughts..."Is this thing collecting hides or something?"

Hera stood up. "Keep me informed."

As she left, Remkah called after her, "what are you gonna do?"

Calling over her shoulder, "Im going to find it. And kill the sonofabitch."

[HeraCLONE 01]

The clone moved off her medical bed and walked over to the
stricken crewman. He had been given some sort of potent analgesic
that had rendered him unconscious, but still he twitched and moaned
somewhat. But he wouldnt much longer, that was for sure.

She still felt woozy, almost like she was walking in a dream-state, but instead of it being all the time, it seemed more to hit her in waves.
Hopefully, soon, she would be back to normal.

Looking over the body and moving the sheet that had been draped over him 01 looked closely at the shreded flesh. She sniffed the area around the wounds and also around his neck, where it was bruised as if he had been hit or grabbed. There were two very different scents. One was of the man himself, but the other was concentrated around the upper part of the body and was very strong and almost chemical in its makeup. She curled her lips as it wasnt a pleasant odor.

Dropping the sheet again, she touched the mans face. His eyelids. His lips. Such soft flesh. She ran a finger down his cheek and onto his throat. Here she felt a moisture and raising her fingers to her eyes, she could see a very faint film on them. The odor was strong - the same she had already picked up on.

Forgetting the suffering crewman, 01 returned thoughtfully to sit back on her bed

[Kevtonta]

He crouched low with his knees up to his shoulders. The skins of his prey hung from his closed fist, still dripping blood and bodily fluids. He would tan them and braid them, then add the hides to his collection. But hides were nothing in comparison to a real trophy, something he was sure to find in this lair of prey.

He stuffed the skins into a pouch on his back and stood up. He sniffed the air and scanned the length of the ventalation system. Cold, blue, nothing. He began to walk, turning his head side to side to study his surroundings, then quickened his stride, leaving more dents in the metal beneath him.

Kevtonta came to a moderately sized grate. He would not have to crouch as far as before to fit through it. He peered through and saw many heat signatures. Distant, before the entrance to space. He was in the rear. The noise drowned out the clatter from the grate dropping to the floor. His cloak was on, so he took his time, gracefully strolling and examining the area. Between the grate and space were four small airspeeders parked to the right across from the general main doorway, with was the only thing on the left side. In the center was another shuttle, similar to the one he was brought in.

He quietly walked behind a large crate and studied it. Six meters cubed according to his sensors. He bent his knees and thrust himself into the air, coming up over the crate and landing on it quietly, though leaving two large footprints. He crouched low and watched.

[DarthHERA]

She wandered the long corridors and facilities of the Base, probing with her force-sense all the while. She knew every inch of this base blindfolded and moved from the most likely havens for a stowaway first and progressed on to the less likely and more open areas.

Nothing.

She could not sense any concentrated signatures of aggression or menace. What ever this thing was, its motivation was not of hate or anger or even lust for violence. It was something else. Something she didnt recognise.

She really should check in on the clones progress. But that would just have to wait. She had a kill to make.

***************

The three of them were looking down, trying to work out what had caused the indentations on the hangar floor. "Some idiot in the hydraulic freight vehicle most likely" surmised one.
"Probably Derek. The guy's a moron - he has no finesse" agreed the second. The third ran his fingers along the depressions and asked, "whats finesse mean?"

Instead of the expected reply, another voice was heard

<blockquote type=cite><blockquote><hr>"So what slop are you servin' us today, Gilney?"[/quote]</blockquote>

The three looked slowly up to the top of the crate where the voice was coming from. It repeated again. Their faces crinkled in confusion as they recognised their recently deceased friends voice, but couldnt grasp where it was coming from.


**************

Hera had entered the hangar and immediately picked up on an unsusual presence. She saw the three crewmen inspecting something beside a nearby crate and instantly her skin prickled in warning but she could not see why. Once the voice of Gilneys mate sounded, she drew her blaster and began shooting at the top of the crate, but the laser blasts only shot into the side of a small transport shuttle behind it. Kevtonta had seen the Sith's arrival, and the subsequent drawing of the weapon and had easily avoided the fire.

Instantly panic broke out with the fire. Everyone pulled out their blasters and started yelling at one another to tell them the target's position...but no one knew it. The thing was loose in here, but how could they shoot something they couldnt see. Random blaster fire was not a good idea with all the explosive cargo they had all about the place.

Suddenly crates and men were being tossed about and hurled like rag dolls across the room and into one another. It was mayhem. Here and there a laser shot out, but inevitably it hit a fellow crewman rather than whatever it was that had him in its grasp.

Amidst all the chaos, Hera closed her eyes and drew on the force. She had awakened anger in the target and now she had something to latch on to. She held her blaster at arms length she waited...waited...there it was! She let off four rapid bursts. Men hit the deck or dove behind the speeders or whatever cover they could find...and after a moment, every thing was still.

[Kevtonta]

Kevtonta sprinted across the floor, shifting his weight to not leave prints on the weak metal. Random energy bursts filled the air around him. The prey were forming groups and taking cover with their weapons. One happened to be peeking out from a small rectangular munitions crate, but in the wrong direction.

He was behind the unknowing prey, and a spear stick through the spine and out the chest let the man know. He didn't even have time to yell, but it was noticed anyway, and the prey turned their attention to the dead man, holding their fingers down on their energy weapons. Kevtonta jumped over the crate as bolts struck it.

A voice yelled out to the rest of the prey, "Don't!"

The crate exploded and picked up Kevtonta about half a meter and threw him forward. He ducked and rolled as he came down and left one thick crater in the floor. He lunged at the first heat source and extended his wrist blades into it's eye sockets. More energy fire followed.

He drew his throwing disk and tossed it towards a group of prey. It curved to the left with a light hum and jerked right, guiding itself into one prey's abdomen and the next, and the next, leaving six seperate pieces from the original three. The disk flew back into Kevtonta's hand and he unholstered his plasma pistol, sending an electronic surge into the closest prey, throwing the sizzling corpse to the floor.

Kevtonta turned to observe the obvious leader. A female prey according to his sensors, yelling orders and firing at him. She could sense him, he knew. If it weren't for his constant movement he would be critically wounded. She was the only one who was always shooting the right way. A worthy adversary, and the perfect trophy. This was not the time though. Not here. He looked down, where three small wounds oozed with thick green fluid. Not a danger, but bothersome and would require him a short time to recover.

He made a beeline to where he came in and stomped the battered grate aside, jumping into the vent and ripping holes with his feet as he dashed away.

[DarthHERA]

Time seemed suspended. Crates of hardware still billowed flame and dark smoke spiraled upwards. A quick glance around revealed carnage worthy of a sith battle...only it was enraging to be on the receiving end of it. Blood pooled about the broken bodies and the sounds of wretching could be heard as some of the less initiated of the crew had trouble holding their supper.

GAAAAAAAAAH Hera clenched her fists in fury and yelled in frustration. She knew the thing had gotten away. Her voice seemed to jolt everyone from their semi-stunned state and back into action. She prowled around examining the area she last sensed the creature and noticed a green toxic looking fluid on the floor. "here!" a voice called out to nobody "it went down here."

Looking down into the vent, the grate ripped from it and tossed aside was lift-operator Derek, dabbing the end of his steelcap boot in more of the greenish fluid,"looks like you got a peice of him, Hera." They both peered into the vent and faintly, as from some distance away, they could hear laughter."It sounds like one of our guys down there." They strained to hear - the laughter was odd sounding. Distorted, repetitive, monotonous. It seemed manufactured....fake. Yanking Derek aside, "I dont think so" she stated. Hera uncliped her lightsaber and stepped off the floors edge and dropped down into the vent.

Saber in hand, she moved steadily along the length of the enclosed corridor of the vent in the direction of the now faded laughter.

[Kevtonta]

The wounds pulsated and closed up, sucking in the thick green fluid. He lowered his medicomp and activated his cloak. Kevtonta could feel and hear the vibrations getting closer. They would pause, and then start up again. He looked straight ahead to the ninety degree corner about fifty meters away.

There it was, rounding the corner. It's head first. The trophy. It walked down the vent about ten meters and stopped, looking around. He magnified the image and cleared the heat scan, switching over to simple blue. It wasn't good enough. He activated a new program, known simply as color mode, designed to take a visual perspective similar to the prey. He magnified it more, getting a perfect image of the target. He could now study at close range unhindered.

Kevtonta's biological scans had informed him that the target was female, but a close visual study confirmed it. From the files he gathered on the prey, he could make many important notes. Humans, as he found they could be called, were divided into the usual duel sexes.

This one had the facial structure and supposedly traditional mane of hair for a female. It appeared to be golden. Her extended chest area also showed the physical signs of a female. She wore a set of garments that looked confining, but would also allow agility and much freedom of movement in combat. He assumed by her character and leadership that that was its intention.

She was also well armed, with an energy weapon at her hip and some sort of rod in her hand. He detected a power source and looked in his files for something like it. It was an energy sword of sorts. Used by the elite prey having special abilities or powers.

He watched her carefully peer straight at him, then lift a device to her face. A faded noise was heard. He recorded it and planned to magnify and clean it up for further study. The female lowered herself and turned around, walking back to where she came from.

[DarthHERA]

All quiet. Not a movement. Hera moved her head looking, listening, but nothing. She felt something though...that same inner warning when got she entered the hangar. Her luminous blue eyes scanned back and forth, but she couldnt see a thing out of place. Whatever was loose here was a dangerous and clever adversary.

A high pitch squeal and then a broken transmission crackled over her communicator - the suddeness of the noise made her flinch after the silence of the vent. "...HQ level...oing beserk......come immeadia....repeat.....iately"

Replying with a curt "acknowledged" into the comlink, she took one last look down the corridor before turning back the way she had come.

[HeraCLONE 02]

She threw her body violently against the confines of the cryocase again and again. She could see he controller looking at her, his weapon levelled, as if that meant anything to her. The metal bolts holding the case in place were shaking loose under the constant barrage and the controller feared the whole contraption would come apart and crash to the floor.
(Where was Hera? he thought frantically. Im gonna shoot this thing to smithereens if she doesnt get here soon - standing orders or not.)

For over a year she had been locked in this pod. Her mind just barely in a sedated state. Her body had been frozen like a vegetable, her mind too, but somehow she had an awareness - a periodic realisation of where she was. It was like being under anesthesia, being cut into by a surgeons knife and being able to feel it all - but not being able to communicate that fact. She felt like she had been screaming silently in this frigid tomb for a year and finally could put sound and movement to those screams. She had to get out of there. Had to. Had to.

Another figure had arrived. A woman. She looked at the controller, crossed over to him and said something to him. She then came up face to face to the case. It was her. She was the one who left her here. She would let her out! The clone increased her violent assault on the container and then suddenly stopped and stared into the eyes of her creator. Dropping her hands to her side, her chest heaving from exertion she glared at the figure opposite her. The woman made a motion with one hand to the controller he touched a control panel on a side counter and with smooth precision the door slid open.

Once freed, Clone 02 threw herself at the woman flinging them both backwards and into a cabinet full of glass lab containers and instruments. Her creator was uncannily strong. Without effort she lifted 02 off herself and pinned her against the wall. 02 was screaming..just what she was screaming she wasnt really sure, all she knew was she was making noise at last, after all this time, and wildly started to laugh at the pleasure she got from it. The woman holding her signalled with a jerk of her head and from behind her, the controller stepped and jabbed a syringe into the clones arm. The laughter faded and so too did the faces of the two until all she knew was the quite ..... and the cold again.


<img src= "http://www20.brinkster.com/abberition/Hclone2.jpg">

[Kevtonta]

There was something different about her, the prey, his target. It was odd. He stomped his foot down hard on the vent. It caved easily and he climbed down into a wide corridor, well lit. He was tired of the ventalation system.

He mapped out the entire level roughly with a sonar wave. There were no prey nearby that he could detect clearly, but a noise seperated itself apart from the usual, so he armed his shoulder cannon and walked forward. A brief heat source that disappeared behind a corner at a T-junction. The prey walked back out, concerning himself with an electronic pad of some sort, to the other behind the opposite corner. A small pistol clung to his lower thigh.

Kevtonta decloaked and raised his right shoulder up to aim. His biohelmet scanned for extra heat but found none. He trudged forward and peered around the corner, seeing the prey walk directly away with his back turned. Three small red dots formed between the man's shoulders. Kevtonta growled low, allowing the noise to echo through the hallway. The man turned around and didn't even yell before a smouldering hole appeared in his upper body.

[DarthHERA]

"See her to the Isolation Room . The force-sheild there will keep her from doing any more damage to herself or anyone else"...and out of my hair for a while she thought to herself, unconsciously running her hand thru her own blonde locks.

The two men accompanied the now heavily sedated clone via hover-bed to the Med-Bay. Remkah had come to the HQ just as they exited and stood to the side of the doorway, allowing them to pass without comment. The look on his face was enough - he had always disliked the whole "clone technology" from the first time he had heard of it...but that discussion could wait for another time.


"Good news" he said once they had gone. "We've just picked up on the discharge of an energy weapon down on deck 18 - Ive got some boys mustering down there now and all interlevel turbo-lifts have been shut down except for one."

He didnt even get to finish before Hera spun round and left at a run.

"..yeah, I thought you'd be pleased" he sniped as he pulled his blaster from its holster and followed after her.

[HeraCLONE 02]

They had transfered her from the hover-bed to the block-bed in the Isolation room, gently as they were able, but it made no difference to 02. Everything seemed to be far away and completely removed from her.
She sat slumped against the wall, her legs half dangling over the edge.

She watched the men as they left and the force-sheild slid over into place. The clone blinked slowly, her eyelids half hooded over. She comprehended enough to know she was in some sort of cell, but it didnt matter to her. Nothing really mattered. She just felt numb really. And a bit hungry.

[DarthHERA]

The turbo-lift hummed slightly as they dropped the 2 decks down to Level 18. The doors parted and Hera and Remkah stood on either side, blasters in hand. They both looked down the corridor - all looked clear, but they knew that really meant nothing.

Remkah, continuing to scan commented, "This thing, whatever it is, cant be scanned on infra-red imaging. We tried when it was in the cargo hold and well, you were there...you know how that went"

Hera nodded. "It is definitely designed for stealth and has no fear of us, thats for certain. I still am at a loss for its real purpose here."

Moving with caution into the hallway Remkah asked if the Sith could pick up anything with her force-sense. She shook her head in the negative - angry at her seeming ineptness. "I only caught it once, and that was when I had a tangible emotion to latch onto. For the most part it seems very...non-emotional - it is hard for me to recognise such signatures." she paused, before adding with calculated menace in her voice "we're gonna change that though."

They made their approach to the Dry Storage Center where the shots had come from earlier that they had picked up. They'd had a man down there doing inventory earlier checking the supply of everything from dry foodstuffs, cleaning goods and daily living necessities for the Base - he had not responded to their repeated efforts to contact him thru the commlink.

They made eye contact with the men at the far end of the corridor who Remkah had moved into position prior to his getting Hera. There were 5 of them, all heavily armed with BlasTech E-11 Blaster Rifles and one carried a Merr-Sonn CR-24 Flame Rifle. The men knew they had to pick their target carefully, especially the flame rifle. They didnt need a fire in DSC to add to the problem.

With a flick of his first two fingers, Remkah gave the "go to" signal and simultaneously the two separate groups entered the DSC at the entrances either end of the warehouse sized room.