A/N: Thanks for your kind words AAEdmonds =) Glad you're liking where I'm going with this =D Atm, I don't think I'll have much trouble with inspiration, though time is a bigger issue XD (That, and I'm making myself write a chapter for this after each chapter I release for my BW-fic, which helps with updating this fic frequently). I was afraid the change in Ci'van might be too sudden, but it did come about quickly in their world too. He's being a raving lunatic in my head nowadays XD It makes it a bit hard for me to write him though - he's very chaotic now.

Read and Review please! =) ))

The days flew by for Ci'van. He spend most of the day-time training in his now very quiet home. His grandfather and brother still in a coma, he had the entire place to himself. They were kept in said coma by being given a small dosage of the poison he had fed them originally every six hours. Their medics didn't know what had caused this, but they didn't argue with the supposed antidote. And they did agree that with it, their situation wasn't worsening. So Ci'van's quick thinking must have saved their lives.

With the possibility of an upcoming war, everyone was kept busy enough not to bother checking after two citizens all the time and no deep investigation was started yet. The Council was too busy sending out scouts and receiving reports when those scouts returned again. Ci'van hadn't known what was being said in the Council-chamber, and that had bugged him a great deal. Just like he couldn't let F'gath and Co'vek stop this war, he had to stop the Council from stopping it too.

The Council, along with the rest of their civilisation, assumed that Ci'van was keeping to himself in order to care for his grandfather and brother, that he was grieving his father's death now that he had the space and time to do so. They couldn't be further from the truth. F'gath's gym was superb, and he was using every machine in there, for as long as he could, testing the boundaries of his body.

His body was quickly becoming more muscled, the youngster taking advantage of his special genes to get very powerful very quickly. Soon, it would be time to act. Soon. He stood in front of a mirror, flexing his muscles and admiring himself. He looked a lot like his father had at this age, he knew, only he was taller, and slightly more filled out. He liked how he carried both his parents with him that way. His body was like his father, his mind like his mother. The only difference was that since Co'vek had been in a comatose state, Ci'van's skincolour had been slowly getting darker.

During the evenings and nights, he would meditate and train his powers. The powers he and Co'vek had gotten at their birth turned out to be a lot stronger than he ever imagined. He couldn't believe he had let his twin convince him of the need to keep it secret and to not flaunt it about. At first he had allowed the power to flow through him, his mind opening itself to all kinds of things. He had seen the universe, as it was, as it could be. He had heard the thoughts of his people, knew what they were doing, going to do. The result had been amazing, if dangerous - he nearly killed himself, his brain being unable to withstand the pressure it put on him. That allowed him to see that he needed to train his mind, teach himself to control it.

So he sat quietly, opening his mind one little bit at a time, first to the thoughts of those near him, then a little further, encompassing more and more people, until he was fairly certain he could keep a mental eye on his people all around the world. He learned that, as his body grew in strength, so did his mind. From there on, it started to take more effort, but that didn't deter him. Of course, these new-found talents helped a great deal with keeping tabs on the Council.

They had found more prove that the Fergnans had been behind the behind the attack, but it wasn't waterproof, as the humans would say. So they were divided, not certain whether or not they should risk a war. Hunting was one thing, and though much honour could be won through a war, it would mean a lot of their brethren died. The Fergnans weren't cowards, they had good weapons and ships. The Council, however sure they could take them, wasn't sure if they wanted to take the risk.

But as long as they argued, Ci'van had time to train. He hardly slept anymore, and his mind seemed to work overhours all the time. He now listened to conversations of his people during the day while he trained, training his mind to take interest in certain thought-patterns or words, so he didn't have to listen to everything anymore, just to what he found interesting.

While all this was going on, a portion of his mind was busy trying to find the solution of the twelve Predaliens he had seen in his vision of the future he wanted to come true. Exactly three weeks after he had returned to his home-planet, the answer struck him. Having been track-running on one of F'gath's machines, he was shot straight into the wall as he stopped running abruptly. He landed in a heap and grunted, but stayed in the same awkward position for a few minutes as his mind raced.

"Of course..." he muttered. "I can't believe I missed that until now..."

He grinned, slowly pushing himself up. He flexed his shoulders, then stretched, feeling all his muscles. He liked being aware of his body like that. His mandibles vibrated, emitting an almost hiss-like noise. It sounded familiar to him, and he knew it was the same sound the xenomorphs made the moment he thought of the sound. He had been surprised to find that most of his mental powers came from that part of his blood - humans had little powers in much of anything, and the Yautja had their strengths in their quick thinking and their battle-skills. But the xenomorphs turned out to be by far the strongest of them all, but they lacked the brain to back it up.

He was no longer surprised that a Queen could summon all the warriors to her, even if they couldn't hear her scream. That she could direct them at will, point them at what she wanted destroyed and just unleash them. Only, with a Predalien, a whole other creature had been born. Stronger than a Yautja, smarter than a Queen, they had the ability to command the xenomorphs as well, and their command would reign superior if ever a Queen would try to interfere, because their brains were so much larger than those of the xenomorphs and the Queens.

"Mustn't get too sidetracked," he reminded himself, letting go of most of the thoughts about his heritage, but not completely. He kept the thoughts about the Predaliens in his mind. A Predalien was made when a facehugger impregnated a Yautja. The more powerful the Yautja was, the more powerful the Predalien would be. That was why F'gath had managed to beat the one on Earth that relatively easy. The Yautja infected had not been much more than a teenager, a youngster like Ci'van himself. Only, Ci'van was that much more powerful than any youngster the Yautja had seen. His mind was superior to any Yautja on the planet.

Including the Council. Without F'gath, there were twelve Council-members left, all seasoned warriors with lots of skill and wisdom. The warriors they could produce...! Twelve Council-members meant twelve Predaliens. Never mind that one of them was Ci'van's fraternal grandfather. He had never gotten that well along with M'rid anyway. The old man was frightened of the little he had seen him and Co'vek do.

Ci'van laughed. If that had already frightened him, he was in for a surprise when he found out what Ci'van could do now. His laughter subsided, but a grin remained on his face. But M'rid wouldn't be able to witness him rage war on the Fergnans. For decisive action in the matter of war, he had to take decisive action himself. He pushed himself up and dusted himself off. He heard clicking noises and turned around, expecting to find someone there, before realising he had been talking to himself.

No matter. He knew his path now. He closed his eyes and expanded his mind, connecting with one of his neighbours. A peaceful fellow, Ci'van didn't even bother remembering his name. But he had a wife and children, and that was what mattered. Listening to minds was easy. Now, he would implant a thought in someone else's mind and see its effects. Or, try to, anyway.

He felt the mind carefully, slipping inside it as he did to listen. Only this time, he didn't stay quiet, stepping in when he felt the man thinking about his wife, how lucky he was to have her, to have her care for him, even though he wasn't a big warrior like their friends.

"She's too good for me," he whispered, feeling his neighbour look at his wife, the mind resigned to accept the truth of those words. "She must know it too. She has been hanging out with G'bor a lot lately. She touched his arm the other day.."

He continued, whispering soft words that he would hear in his own voice in his mind. He felt the growing resentment, the growing anger and rage. His test-subject didn't even think that his thoughts were strange, or too abrupt. That was good to know. It meant that he didn't have to be particularly subtle if he decided to continue as he was.

"She must have given herself to him. She must have been sleeping with him, behind my back. She was out late all week," he whispered, discounting the notion of the female having been hard at work helping to rebuild the school that had exploded with the first bomb. The thoughts of his neighbour were starting to get ahead of him. Ci'van no longer needed to whisper anything for it to continue. The rage grew more potent, and he felt the mind move, storming through the house towards where his mate was, reading bed-time stories to the children.

The quiet night was abruptly disrupted by loud noises, and Ci'van didn't have to know the man was shooting to recognize the sound of one of their shoulder-guns being fired repeatedly. He could see the wife's head exploding like a too-ripe melon in his minds eye, the children, before they too were shot and killed, his neighbour certain they weren't his anyway. Ci'van dropped to his knees, a little drool leaving his mouth and dribbling down his chin. He had never felt so aroused before. The surge of power this made him feel, the absolute control, the power to control who lived and who died.. It was so heady, so breathtaking. He never wanted to let it go.

Sirens sounded, interrupting his happy thoughts. Someone was coming to investigate the shots. He left the training room, deciding to take a shower before he would be asked if he had heard anything, had known of any trouble. But oh, the possibilities this created. No longer did he have to listen to anyone but himself. No one could order him around now. He giggled as he walked to the bathroom, trying to keep the sound down at least a little. He failed, starting to laugh. It was a strange sound, a combination of his heritage, all three sides of it taking glee in what he had done. And in what he was going to do.

Twelve Council-members. Twelve Predaliens. The world would be at his feet. And he would be Emperor of it all.