Time is a strange thing, especially when sailing through the vacuum of space with no sun in which to base a daylight cycle on.

The 'days' all varied in length, and entirely depended on how many hours you slept, or didn't sleep, in the 'night'. The entire idea of time seemed like a vague suggestion. Cahira could only guess that they'd been traveling for weeks with no stops. She lost count on her own after the first 20 or so 'days', and often reffered to Vok'ko for an earth time estimate.

Her mind boggled at the sheer expanse of the known universe, and she often felt dizzy and uncomfortable thinking about it.

She had managed to locate the halo-screen wall in Vok'ko's quarters after the first week, and she often spent her time alone sitting in front of it, her knees to her chest as she watched the endless streak of stars screech past in devoid silence.

That's what she found herself doing now, her chin resting atop her knees as she draped her arms slackly around them.

She wore her black furs, like she'd done from the beginning, and they fit better and better every day. Her body had begun to tone up since the start of her training, and her muscles added sultry curves to her limbs, chest and glutes. She was fuller in shape than she'd ever been, and her stomach was finally lean and trim. Her bottom perked up and rounded out in a flattering way, lending an elegance to the exaggerated curve of her bare lower back.

Cahira had considered herself 'fit' back on earth, even with her focus on manual work rather than exercise. But this training regiment she was subjected to now was something else entirely. Her body had quickly reached a homeostasis with the rigorous training, and each lesson, though taxing, seemed to slingshot her muscle progression forward.

Even Alvy, as young as she is, had gained mass in muscle, though much more subtly. Luckily, her lessons were not nearly as life threatening as what Cahira had been subjected to.

Alvy still considered her 'training' to be a playtime of sorts with the other yautja children, and she liked the socializing. She had even been able to, recently, pick words out of the clicks and growls between yautja. The language was intricate, but Alvy learned from the other young ones that were still learning themselves.

Cahira wondered about their future, and how they'd adapt to the new society they were slowly being groomed to assimilate with.

The yautja were a bizarre species, and so alien to everything she knew. Her exposure to their race had been very limited at first, but as the days progressed, she was put into increasingly populated social situations with the others aboard the ship. It was nolonger just Vok'ko and Tur'ak. It was every godforsaken yautja on the ship, in the mess hall, in the colloseum, and on the flight decks.

Vok'ko would take her and Alvy through the ever winding halls during the height of activity, just to submerge them in the 'alienness'. He would bring her to the main mess hall for her to get food after training, and she could nolonger hide in the confines of his room as she ate.

She would collect her food, and they would sit at the head of an enormous table. Their chairs were elaborate, carved of a dark bone and inlaid with stones and precious metals. They were thrones, and they humiliated her. The size of the thrones alone were enough to make her feel meek and diminutive, and only seemed to highlight the glaring differences between her and the rest of the goliath beings on board.

She felt eyes on her constantly these days, and she couldn't seem to make a single move without someone seeing it. Yautja bowed to her in passing, and some would even follow loosely behind just to oggle at the human woman who would be their Heiress. But what did that really even mean for her? The title carried weight, she could obviously see that, but she couldnt even truly fathom what that position of power implied.

Cahira longed for the day in which all the attention didn't make her cheeks burn red or her heart flutter uselessly. It was exhausting and horrifyingly awkward. She felt like a little beetle under a microscope. Like a science experiment, on display for all of these striking eyes to dissect as she struggled to adapt to her new, impossible life.

Luckily, though oddly enough, not a single yautja spoke to her unless prompted, and she never prompted.

She had only spoken to Vok'ko, Tur'ak, and the tailor her entire stay. She wondered idly if the crew had been banned from addressing her, or if they could simply read the discomfort in her alien eyes.

Regardless, she was thankful for that respite. She didn't think she could handle all the socializing if it also included idle chat with every curious yautja that crossed her path.

The familiar sound of the airlock brought her out of her self pitying reverie and she turned to look over her shoulder as the Dark Spectre himself strode through the open door.

His eyes found hers, the visor of his mask flashing gold as he chuffed at her in greeting. Her heart stuttered in her chest, like it seemed to do every time she saw him enter a room. He had a presence about him, a gravity that was palpable. He sucked the air from every room he entered, his looming figure and dark energy left her gasping for breath.

She bounced quickly to her feet, her red hair swishing around her as she turned on her toes to face him.

"My Lord." She acknowledged flatly, followed promptly by a curt bow. She had resented the title when they'd first met, but it had grown on her since their months together. It was simply a greeting now. A respectful formality.

He was already in the process of removing his sparring armor, unlatching it piece by piece as he laid it all out on the marble slab that served as a table.

It was strangely robotic, the way he quickly unlatched, unclipped, and untied all of the finer pieces of his gear and placed them down.

He had been taking his trainings immediately after she finished hers, and that gave her a number of hours alone to herself afterwards as she waited for his return. She usually spent the time between bathing and watching the stars.

He had taken up training her as well, splitting her sessions with Tur'ak as instructor. Both yautja had a plethora to teach, and she had started to excell in her physical practice because of it.

Vok'ko, though patient and supportive, was an exhausting instructor and coach. He drove her to the point of breaking nearly every day, and then nudged her just a little bit further by the end of each session.

She would begin weapons practice soon, now that she'd been reasonably trained for endurance, strength and speed. The thought was a bit intimidating, especially after she'd had the privilege of watching him spar with the other warriors on board. He was lethal with a weapon, and even without. He was a weapon.

She didn't see how she could ever compare.

"You have not bathed." His baritone voice broke the silence, snapping her from her thoughts. He pulled the latches to his bracers loose and slipped them from his muscled forearms without looking at her.

"I'm sorry, I should have used the time I had to do that. I was distracted by the stars again..." she muttered. Her cheeks grew pink, and she turned her face to the side as if to hide. She thought she smelled fine, but the yautja, she'd come to learn, were adept at picking up faint aroma.

He noticed the subconscious step she took away from him, and he purred to her as he removed the last of his armor.

Her scent had taken on a dangerously enticing pheromone in the last week, thick and pungent to the yautjas sensitive sense of smell, and it seemimgly grew stronger with exercise and endorphins.

The rich, sweet smell of her sweat clung to her like a carnal miasma, enticing a pleased growl from Vok'ko's chest. She didn't seem to notice the difference in her physiology, but he could tell, and it was driving him wild just now.

He set his last piece of armor upon the table and turned to look at her, the obsidian-like mask still settled over his face.

His demeanor had shifted suddenly, and Cahira noticed immediately. If sparring with Vok'ko had taught her anything, it was how to pay attention to the set of his shoulders and the speed of his movements. They were his only tells.

His shoulders drop, almost into a subtle hunch, like a dog who lightly raises his hackles, and his movements become slower before an attack. More calculated and deliberate.

He showed those signs now, and a shiver ran up her spine as he slowly turned to look at her. She felt like a cornered rabbit, staring down the muzzle of a wolf.

She tensed, her foot creeping backwards as if to take a cautionary step away, but she froze instead of listening to the nagging instinct to run.

Yautja, she'd noticed, were fairly reactionary creatures. They were instinctual beings. They would chase anything that thought to run.

Yautja knew they were scary looking motherfuckers, and they often taunted and toyed with their prey, simply because the chase was half the thrill of the hunt.

Cahira thought, perhaps, if she avoided running in any way, she might have a chance. Maybe.

She watched him with wide eyes as they stood across the room from eachother, his form slightly hunched at the shoulders, his clawed fingers twitching imperceptibly at his sides. He was animalistic and profound. A work of deadly art and evolution at play.

"Vok'ko... I thought sparring was over for the day." She muttered, unsure of her footing with him just now. He'd never shown these signs of calculated aggression outside of the kehrite before. Even now, she could hear the subtle rumbling of a growl in his chest.

Was this the next stage in her training? Was she expected to be on guard at all times with him? Why was he not speaking to her?

She scrambled to gain an understanding of her current predicament, but nothing seemed to fit. He'd been nothing but blunt with her until now. Her heartrate hitched as she started to sweat under the heavy energy he emitted.

He took a purposeful step forward, easily covering about 5 feet of distance between them, and she startled at the realization that he'd only need to take two more steps to close the space. She bounced back 5 feet, and a growling trill filled the loaded silence between them.

He'd psyched her out, knowing that she'd spring back like a cornered rabbit. Her back hit the hallow screen, her shoulders pressed to the glass as the stars continued their silent journey past in streaks of light and color.

He took two more steps, nearly coming within range, the clicking and rolling of his growls vibrating through her chest. She felt oddly calm, even as her heart hammered in her chest.

It was a conflicting feeling, the fear and placidity she felt all at once, and she realized it was the noise he was making at her.

He'd only made this gravelly, purring noise a handful of times with her, and it had always had the same effect of calming. She didn't appreciate the manipulation.

"Stop!" She snapped, flattening herself against the clear hallow screen before using it as a backboard to launch off of. She bolted to the right, vaulting over the oversized yautja armchair. She could feel the ghost of his clawed fingers grasp at her forarm as she evaded him, and they closed over empty air as she danced out of his range.

She skirted around the large fire pit, keeping the roaring flames between them as he watched her from atop the orange, flickering glow.

The airlock opened behind her, the door sliding open as Tur'ak stepped quickly through.

"My Lord, there is urgent-..." The bulky green and brown mottled yautja stopped short as he burst into the room, his words cut off as he seemingly choked on a breath.

His body tensed, and his eyes lingered on Cahira before finding the prowling form of his clan leader across the fire.

She turned her head to look at him, a question in her eyes.

Tur'ak cleared his throat with a strangled cough, avoiding her gaze, and addressed his leader.

"My Lord, it is urgent. Your presence is needed at the flight deck." His tone was more dire than usual, and his voice took on an abnormally stressed tone.

Vok'ko sat in loaded silence for a moment longer, his calculating eyes never leaving his future Heiress.

He straightened up after a moment, looking much more dignified now that he wasn't curled over in a prowling hunch. The air about him was still thick and heavy with energy, as if he were still hunting her.

He tilted his head at her, gesturing to the bathing room on her left.

"You will bathe while I am away. You may leave to obtain food, but only if you wash with the blue gel. I will know if you have not." His words were clipped, as if he were teetering on impatience or loss of control.

Cahira simply nodded, taking a few cautious steps backwards and toward the bathroom. He watched her, but made no move to pursue her as he'd done a moment before.

She turned her back on him and walked calmly to the bathroom, closing the airlock behind her as she entered. She could hear their footsteps retreating down the hall, and the slide of the main airlock to the room closing a couple delayed moments after they departed.

Her limbs were trembling lightly from the rush of adrenaline, and she slithered out of her furs as she stepped down into the welcoming waters.

She walked as far into the enormous tub as she could, and when she could nolonger reach, she swam languidly to the center and allowed herself to relax as she tread the waters, fully submerged in the melting heat.

Her hair splayed in sheets around her, dancing with the current of her hands and feet likes reeds of red kelp in the sea.

Her heartrate calmed slowly, and the anxiety in her chest and shoulders eventually relaxed back to normal.

What the fuck was that? She thought to herself, reviewing the entire encounter in her head as best as she could.

Had she imagined that shift in demeanor? No. Had she ever seen that behavior outside of the kehrite? No. Was it different than the energy she got from him while sparring on a daily? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Whatever his intentions were, they were serious. He'd never honed in on her with such an unexplainable intensity, and even though she couldn't see his eyes, she could feel the weight of his gold gaze.

Cahira sank further into the water, as if to hide from the feeling of being watched. She knew her nerves were on fire from the panic, and she tried to shake off the lingering anxiety it incited.

She swam to the edge of the pool, reaching for the silver decanters that she used for body wash. She grabbed the yellow liquid first, the one she'd been using since she arrived. It was floral in scent, and left her skin feeling soft and moisturized. But he'd specifically told her to bathe with the blue soap.

She'd never had a need to use it before, and as far as she could tell, Vok'ko had never used it before either. The container was full to the top, brand new, and rather boring in smell.

Or, more accurately, it had no smell. Not like an unscented lotion, which still had a kind of smell. No. Smelling this blue liquid was like going nose-blind. It seemed to negate aroma.

She poured a small puddle into her palm and lathered it between her hands before sniffing it again.

It smelled like nothing, and had a cooling effect on her hands.

She shrugged and lathered her body in the blue suds, mildly seething that he would react so violently to her scent. She didn't have nearly as sensitive of a nose, but she couldn't have smelled that awful, right?

Her skin tingled under the bubbly lather and she dunked her body beneath the surface of the water to scrub her scalp and face as she rinsed off. The noise of the jets at the edge of the tub rumbled through her waterlogged ears as she sat, submerged and massaging her scalp.

She had no way of noticing the airlock to the bathroom opening, or the hulking form that stomped confidently into the room with her. Unbeknownst to her, a looming shadow fell over the water above as the intruder crouched at the waters edge, a mere arms length away.

A disturbance in the water above her was the only warning Cahira got before large, rough hands seized her by her upper arms and pulled her deftly from the water.

She breached the surface, sputtering and confused and unable to see through the sopping tendrils of hair that fell over her face and eyes.

"Stop!" She snapped, beginning to struggle when she wasn't immediately set down. She wriggled in her captors grasp, attempting to free her hands for even a moment, if only to move her hair from her face.

She was basically useless without her eyes.

The grip on her biceps loosened for a split second before the grasping, clawed hands changed position and threw her over their large shoulder.

She lost her breath from the impact, the sudden jarring move stunning her into brief silence as she gasped for breath and tried to collect her racing thoughts.

It had only taken a matter of moments, but they were already outside in the hallway, racing at breakneck speed to an unknown location. The rattling speed at which she was being shaken loosened her damp hair from her face, and she could see the calves of the yautja that held her as he ran through the halls.

This is not Vok'ko.

She had known from the beginning that it couldn't have been him, but part of her had hoped that maybe it was. She was somewhat familiar with dealing with Vok'ko, but an entirely rogue yautja was another story.

Without thinking, she began to scream. The wail ripped out of her like an ungodly, blood freezing howl. It was piercing to the ears, and she screamed for as long and loud as she could.

The yautja holding her shrugged her off his shoulder, and she somehow managed to catch herself as she fell mercilessly to the ground. He turned to her so quickly that she barely registered the move, and she failed to evade his fist as it collided with the side of her head.

Her world spun, and her ears rang so loud she thought she might go deaf. The side of her face and head felt like shattered glass and embers beneath the skin. The strike had meant to knock her out, she could tell, but she had somehow managed to stay conscious through the searing pain of the initial strike.

The yautja turned slightly away from her, certain that he'd hit her hard enough to put her down, as he pulled up a blueprint of the ship. Her eyes opened just a crack and she squinted through the pain and dizziness as she assessed him.

He was taking her somewhere, and he didn't entirely seem to care in what condition she arrived in.

He was tall, like every yautja she'd seen so far, but much more slender than the rest. His muscle was lean, like a seasoned runner, which explained how he'd managed to get them both so far away from her familiar room so quickly.

His skin was grey and yellow mottled, like rain clouds on the horizon at sunset. She made note of the peculiar flesh, and took a couple of calming breaths as he searched through the halls and rooms of the ship on his hologram.

He was looking for a route out, probably back to the hangar if he boarded with a non-descript craft.

She couldn't let him get that far with her.

She tensed as she lay prone on the ground, all of her muscles primed to vault her into a run.

She took one, last, slow breathe, and then pushed herself to her feet and into a sprint.

An enraged roar chased her down the hallway, clawed hands reaching out to grab her slippery arms and only lacerating her flesh instead.

Streaks of fire engulfed her bicep and blood ran down the back of her arm, trickling onto the floor of the halls as she ran. She could hear, no, feel, the yautja pursuing her, only a split second behind and just out of range.

She took turn after turn, hoping that her speed around the corners would give her just a little more distance between them. She knew she was fast, but this beast was faster, and in an all out sprint, with no sharp turns, she was sure he'd overtake her. So she stuck to what she knew would give her a leg up, and she never ran in a straight line.

The tactic seemed to work for a time, until the yautja realised that she was gaining substantial ground between them.

She leaned to the left, anticipating taking another sharp turn away from him when a bladed disc went soaring past her head and embedded itself into the wall right next to her.

She yelped in surprise and threw herself the opposite direction to avoid the next disc as it sunk into the wall right next to the first.

She was forced to continute forward, unable to take any more turns, as he kept cutting off her escape routes.

"Help!" She screamed, feeling him gain on her again. "Help me!"

She couldn't risk being caught, so despite the danger, she through herself into the next hallway she could find. He threw another lethal disc, expecting that she'd avoid it and keep running, but she did the unexpected.

She skid into the turn on her hip, her momentum and wet skin allowing her to slide mostly under the trajectory of the smart disc.

It sliced through the air just as she slid under it, but it caught her ribs as she fell, lacerating the flesh there and laying her open to the bone. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out and clenched her jaw as she pushed herself back to her feet and into a dead sprint again.

She could nolonger tell if the liquid running down her naked body was water or blood, and she couldnt afford to stop to find out.

Vok'ko had only just made it to the flight deck when the alien, almost ethereal wailing bounced off the hallow halls of the ship. Tur'ak looked at him, stunned and confused, before they both realized what it could be.

Yautja could not make that sound, female or otherwise. It must have been the human woman.

Tur'ak pulled up video logs on his hologram, cycling through the many views until a chilling sight startled them both.

Their Heiress was bare and bleeding, running for her life through the halls in an attempt to avoid capture from the renegade yautja.

Vok'ko turned on his heel, his pounding footsteps nearly drowning out the incensed rage of his growls. Whatever 'urgent' matter he'd been called to the flight deck for would have to wait.

Tur'ak tailed close behind his Lord, his combistick at the ready. The two yautja split ways down two hallways, covering more ground in case Cahira managed to turn herself around in the labyrinth of halls.

Vok'ko and his Commander exited into a large corridor a few hallways apart. They looked at eachother, confused that their mark was nowhere to be found.

The beat of heavy footsteps drew their attention to the end of the long corridor just as Cahira came fleeing around the corner. She slid on wet feet, struggling to keep her footing as she turned the corner. A clawed hand came around the wall and buried itself mercilessly into her long red hair.

Her head was yanked back and she was pulled off her feet by the savage grip in her hair. The yautja pulled her straight off her toes by her hair and held her up to his masked face. She could tell he was seething by the set of his shoulders and the enraged growls that shook through her.

But she wasn't afraid, she was absolutely pissed.

How dare he?!

Her scalp lit up in pain as he shook her angrily by the hair, and she could hardly see from the tears pricking her eyes. She let go of his wrist, nolonger attempting to ease the grip on her hair, and she snatched at whatever she could grab. She clawed violently at any flesh she could reach, and when that only seemed to anger him, she reached for his dread-like hair.

She braced a foot against his chest and wrapped a fleshy tendril around her fist and pulled with everything she had.

The yautja had been so engulfed in blind rage that he hadn't considered that the weak, naked, human breeder could do anything close to harm.

In one, quick movement, she pulled a meaty tendril of his hyper-sensitive hair straight out of his head.

Payback's a bitch.

The yautja dropped her in surprise, reaching for his wound on instinct to stem the bleeding.

She ignored the pain that rattled her weary body and began to run again, not looking far enough ahead to notice the two other yautja running towards her.

"Ca-heera!"

The sound of her name sent such a rush of joy through her body that her legs threatened to collapse, and she looked up through her mess of bloodied hair just in time to be lifted into Vok'ko's arms.

She was glad for it, because a moment longer and she might have actually collapsed. She wanted to feel at ease in his arms, to feel relief for her situation, but she knew her pursuer was still alive, and he was livid with her.

She lifted her head, looking for the grey and yellow mottling of her attacker, and met his masked gaze from the end of the hall.

He stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides as he took in a deep breath to initiate a challenging roar.

Before the challenge could be voiced, however, he was taken to the ground from behind. A small platoon of armed and angry yautja descended upon the intruder with vicious force, subduing him in record time.

"Keep him alive. I'll be having a word with him later." Vok'ko commanded coolly, his tone indifferent to the pain his warriors had inflicted upon the rogue. They simply nodded obediently, and drug his limp and bleeding body back through the halls in which he'd just come.

It was over so quickly, from start to finish. Not much time had really elapsed since she'd been pulled from the tub and then chased through the halls, but it had felt like an eternity that she'd spent running for her life.

Cahira trembled in Vok'ko's arms, the shock and blood loss taking their toll on her body. Her vision spun from the blow she took to the head, and her fingers and toes felt cold and stiff.

Vok'ko held the female delicately in his grasp, turning her from side to side to inspect the damage. Her right bicep had 4, deep lacerations that bled heavily down her arm and side. A blade cut her open across her left side, scoring the flesh for 7 inches and baring the ivory of her rib bone through the blood. The entire left side of her face was covered in blood from a split in the flesh of her temple, and the delicate skin there was turning black and purple.

His hands trembled in poorly concealed rage as he inspected her, and his mandibles clicked in irritation as he growled.

"Hail the medic." He snapped, taking strides in the direction of the med bay.

"He has already been informed." Tur'ak nodded to his leader as he passed, bowing respectfully.

"My Lord, I will go prepare the prisoner for... questioning." He offered as Vok'ko took off down the hall, a blue lipped, limp human woman in his arms.

"That would be wise, thank you Commander."

Cahira was barely lucid enough to catch the exchange between the males, but she could understand the implications. Vok'ko would likely kill that yautja, and she was morbidly pleased to know it.

The coldness in her fingertips and toes progressed to her arms and legs, and she found it increasingly hard to keep her eyes fluttered open.

She fell into unconsciousness to the vibration of Vok'ko purring and the rocking of his long strides.