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Planet Mudball - Predator fanfiction Chap 2



Disclaimer: If I were Queen of the Galaxy, I would own everything. But, I’m not and I don’t. I don’t own Predators or Care Bears or any planets named Mudball. Geraldine and Keyla are the products of my own twisted imagination.


Rating: PG


A/N: This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net. See if you recognize lines from the song Manic Monday, references to The A-Team, Star Trek, Ace Ventura, Transformers, Star Wars and Saturday Night Live.

In chapter 4, ADL’s are ‘activities of daily living’.

I will post pics of the map Dodge drew in chapter 4 and what I envision Killer’s mask looks like as soon as I figure out how to do so. I have a hard time understanding LJ’s FAQ’s.   







Chapter 2


I booked it out of there, no time to waste. Keyla apparently wanted to stay behind, which is fine with me. I left my backpack there with her, well out of Killer’s reach. A lot of the necessities I need are in my pack already; first aid stuff, fire starting tool, water and energy bars, signal flares, short length of rope, pocket knife, plastic bags, string saw, paperback book (I never go anywhere without a book to read). 


I moved pretty quickly through the woods, it was easy enough to backtrack our original trail. I generally travel like a water buffalo, noisily and on a wide trail. It only took me about a half an hour to get back to the ship. 


Now, I need five minutes to recover and catch my breath. Phew, guess I’m not as in shape as I thought I was. I can’t putz too long, daylights a’wasting, it’ll be full dark in a little over five hours. That should give me just enough time to get everything done that needs doing. I figure digging dig Killer out shouldn’t be too difficult. Less than an hour to set up camp, and maybe two to butcher most of the Care Bear. Yeah, right. I better move faster.


No time to wash up now, but I really need to change my bloody clothes and grab an extra set. Let’s see, I need…my butcher knives, sensor stakes for security, more water, foodstuffs, an extra weapon, gloves, portable computer log, pup tent, lean-to tarp, a couple silver emergency blankets…I think that’s about it. I’ll stuff everything into my big duffle bag and do a quick sweep of the camp. 


Allrighty then. Got the duffle on my back, plasma gun over my shoulder, and the small pistol in the back of my waistband. Now, I just need to secure the ship and I’m good to go. Let’s roll out.


Déjà vu, I’ve seen this path before. Pant, pant, pant. Wish the ship was equipped with a small flyer; it would make things so much easier. Ah well, maybe on my next shipwreck I’ll plan for better equipment.


It’s taking me a bit longer getting back. I can’t go as quickly while carrying this stuff. Too bad I don’t have a pet horse instead of a pet cat.  


Almost there. I can see the Care Bear carcass ahead of me now. Good, still no scavengers yet. Looks like Keyla’s kept things quiet. 


There’s that gap in the woods, just on the other side of the CB.   Primus fragging dammit to the slagging pit fires! + Owie! I’m ripping up my arms. That slagging thorn bush has got to go! 


I step out cautiously after annihilating the enemy bush, alert for any changes since I left, a little more than an hour ago. 


Son-of-a-glitch! Looking ahead, I stare in surprise. Keyla’s contentedly lying on Killer’s abdomen, giving the mask that famous cat-stare. I can scarcely believe it. 


“Keyla, get off of him quick you big lug! You’re lucky he’s still out of it or you’d probably get a punch in the head.”  


At the sound of my voice, Killer’s mask turns in my direction.


Oh, oh. I spoke too soon. He is awake. I heard a growl (!!), and hissing and clicking sounds. Weird. And, oddly, very intriguing. As I approach, Killer suddenly lifts his right arm, the gauntlet near his wrist clicked, and twin serrated blades, about a foot long shoot out. I jump back with the suddenness of the movement. Boy, that was quick. I guess he’s letting me know he’s not defenseless, even if he is wounded and stuck in the dirt. Forget the punch to the head, Keyla’s lucky she didn’t loose her head completely. She had moxie for sure, but I guess he was okay with her cozying up to him. Maybe they had cats wherever he came from. Maybe he was afraid of her. Hahaha. Yeah, and I’m an eight foot alien.   


I cautiously step closer, but stop as he raises his blades and utters what sounds like a bark. I drop my bag and shoulder weapon (keeping my pistol at my back a secret), spread my arms out, empty palms up, to show that I was (kind of) unarmed. 


“Easy big guy, I just wanna help.”    


What’s that universal greeting I read about once…? Now would be a good time to use it. Oh yeah, “Um. Bah weep uh…graaagnah wheep ni ni bong.” Killer cocks his head, growls softly, clicks and lowers his arm, but doesn’t retract the blades.  Well, this is a little scary. I’m not too keen on getting too close to those nasty things. 


But I can see his ‘point’ in making sure I didn’t get any hasty ideas with him being helpless. 


Keyla lifts her rump and stretches, causing Killer to grunt. She lightly pokes her claws into his abdomen, and jumps off, slowly making her way over to inspect the duffle. I’m surprised she didn’t get poked with his blades in return. 


As soon as Keyla’s off, the blades retract and he struggles with his arms, sweeping the ground like he can just slip himself out from under the rocks pinning his lower extremities. Ha, good luck with that. Maybe he isn’t as smart as I thought. It looks like he’s trying to make snow angels. Or dirt angels. Dumb alien.


I wave my hands in the air like a crazy person yelling, “wait, wait! Let me get some of the stuff off you first. You’re gonna hurt yourself worse!” 


He growls at me again, but desists, probably to see what I am going to do and to give himself a better chance to cut off my head when I wasn’t paying attention.


I push Keyla away from the duffle so I can get my leather gloves out. No sense ruining my manicure needlessly. The pole I used to poke Killer with earlier would make a good lever for the larger rocks that I didn’t have the strength to actually pick up and toss. I just had to be careful that the rocks didn’t roll over his head, since he was lying with his head downhill. Well, let’s go for it. No time like the present. The thousand-mile journey starts with one step. Ya snooze, ya loose. When the going gets tough, the tough go to lunch. Wait, that’s not right. Lunch is later. Procrastinate much Dodge? Slag, I hope he stays serene when I’m up close trying to get that stuff off him.  


As I work, I keep up a running commentary. It is kind of nice to have someone new to talk to, even though I’m sure he doesn’t understand anything I say. Actually, who knows? Maybe he has a universal translator somewhere and can understand me. Maybe he’s a linguist and he’s been spying on me for a while and has picked up the language. Maybe he has met humans before. Maybe monkeys might fly out of my butt. Anywho, I was careful not to say anything that could offend. 


“So, hope you don’t mind me calling you Killer. My name is Geraldine, but please call me Dodge – we’re all friends here. Right? And the rude cat that was using you as a pillow is Keyla. I’ve been shipwrecked here for a while, about 40 of this planet’s days. My ship is about a half hour away from here, in that direction. How about those quakes, huh? I think they’re getting more violent and numerous. Is that how you got caught in this little pickle? I hope you’re not too hurt, I don’t know how much I can help you if you are. That blood you have is pretty cool looking. Does it glow in the dark? It is pretty. We used to have necklaces at carnivals that glowed that color in the dark. But they were banned because of radiation or something. My blood is red, something about because the pigment has iron in it. I think. Is yours based on copper? I always thought green blood would be copper. I don’t know about the glowing part. Keyla’s is red also, just like all the beings who come from my planet. Which is called Earth, by the way. Some parts of it are similar to this place. I call this planet Mudball. It’s not supposed to be complementary. I don’t know what its official name is. To us humans, anyway. Where’s your home planet and what do you call it? I’m sure it is very nice. What do you call yourself? What do you call this place? Hey, did you see that Care Bear I offed? I think he was going to attack you when you were unprepared, but I’m not sure if you were awake or not. But you probably could have defended yourself just fine with those nifty blades on your wrist. They’re pretty cool looking. Maybe you could show me how they work sometime and where I can get a pair. It would be handy to have something like them at some space docks I’ve been to, you know, where some guys just don’t have any sense of personal space and can’t take no for an answer. ‘Slag off, jerk, or you’ll loose more than your pride!’ Snick, snick, and their eyes would bug out and then they’d turn tail and run away. Tee hee. That would be funny. How long have you been here? Are there any more of you around? Are they friendly? Do you live here or are you just visiting? Do you have a ship? Maybe you can give me a little help with my ship to get off this stupid planet and back to civilization.”       


Every once in a while during my babble, Killer would purr or click, or if I shifted a heavy rock, he’d grunt or give a growl. Hopefully it didn’t hurt too much. 


I use my hands to throw the smaller rocks to the side, out of the way. When I have a nice area clear, I use my poking pole and work on levering the larger rocks. Working slowly and carefully, I continue with my old-fashioned tool, levering rock after rock off Killer.   


I am hyper-aware of him scrutinizing my every movement. I hope he isn’t just waiting for me to finish and let my guard down so he can run me through. That would be pretty rude after all my hard work getting him out. 


As close to him as I was, I notice he smells faintly of cinnamon, kind of spicy and not altogether unpleasant. It reminds me of cookies. Mmmm, cookies… I wonder what he thinks of my stinky human smell. He’s not sweating at all, but then, I’m the one doing all the work. But, we both are very dirty.


I’m almost done. Killer’s lower half is still imbedded in smaller stones, dirt and gravel, and there’s only one pretty large boulder left on his thigh. I’ll have to be careful with the lever; I don’t want to put any more pressure on him while I push the rock off. 


“Okay Killer, this is the last of it, and it’ll probably will hurt. Sorry, in advance.”


I pop that last rock off in one quick motion, and jump back as Killer throws his head back and lets out a roar that would rival any Care Bear’s. Wow. Guess that did hurt quite a bit. “Sorry, sorry! I tried to be careful!”


Eww, his leg is in pretty bad shape. It has a nasty gash that starts bleeding again now the pressure is off. And it’s definitely broken, I can see the bone underneath the skin. Thank Primus it didn’t come thru, which would have been very, very bad. Septic wounds are definitely not my forte. His right leg has a long, shallow slash on the shin, but it doesn’t look too dirty, the bleeding had washed out most of the dirt. 


Killer works himself out of the rest of the gravel, hissing the whole time, and positions himself so his legs are pointing downhill. He reachs for some kind of small container, or kit that is attached to his left hip. He presses the side with his talon and it opens with a hiss – the cover separating into three segments. Some silver thing in the middle pops up. It looks like an eight-inch baton with a nasty pointy end.  


I inch closer to see what else was in there, and got a low growl for my efforts. I move back but I had enough of a glimpse to see all sorts of small tools that look like torture devices. Boy, he has some awful cool toys. 


Killer grabs the silver baton and it came right out. He put the pointy end on one section of the bad gash, and presses something. Eww, it must be like a staple. And it must hurt because he jerks and lets loose a scary, howling scream. But a moment passes, and he moves the baton and staples twice more. I cover my ears. Slag, he’s got guts. 


When Killer reaches into the container and pulls out other unidentifiable stuff, I just can’t watch any more. I am a bit squeamish, and I have a needle phobia that has suddenly expanded to include staples. I would have a hard time treating myself, especially with no pain meds…like whiskey. Lots of whiskey. 


So, that’s an alien med kit. Pretty impressive. I thought about my pathetic little first aid kit. Once I’m out of here, I am going to get a super heavy-duty deluxe med kit. But with extra pain meds and no staples.   


I amble over to my bag to see if there is anything I can use to help fix him up. I dig out a water bottle and take a swig, trying to ignore the sounds of Killer’s grunts and groans. My big concern is how we can align the bone, and if Killer will let me help do it without lopping off my head. 


I make my way back over to where Killer sits, and I see he has stapled everything up and some white paste stuff is smeared over the deep wounds. 


He shakes his head so his dreads swing and rattle, and makes his growling sound. He gestures, a come here motion, and I inch closer to see what he wants. 


It took a few tries, but through gestures and pantomimes, I figure out Killer wants me to pull on his leg to align the bone, and he will slap some miracle stuff from his kit around the thigh to immobilize it. Ookay…I can do that. 


I settle down in the dirt and brace myself as well as I can. Boy, he has big ugly feet. And I thought my ex-husband’s were nasty. I only want to do this once, so I make sure I am set and ready, rubbing extra dirt on my hands so they won’t slip when I pull. I grab him right above the ankle. His skin is hot, but not slimy, and he still smells good. Holding the wrappings in his hand, he looks at me and cocks his head. I nod that I am ready. He brought his head forward sharply, and at this gesture, I give a hard pull. 


Slag, I thought he was loud before. At this close range, his roar reverberates in my head and nearly blows out my eardrums. But I got the job done. I could feel the bone move into place, and he quickly slaps the dressings on. I am very impressed, considering how that must have hurt. 


Killer flops back in the dirt, seemingly exhausted with the ordeal. He is clicking up a storm. 


I guess there’s not much else I can do for Killer right now. I think I’ll let him rest a bit. I can’t move him anywhere, so this is going to be our temporary camp.


I pull out the lean-to, setting it up over Killer, but not blocking his view in any direction. I can adjust it later, if needed.


Before I work on the Care Bear, I have to put up the perimeter security alarms. It wouldn’t do to be caught out here unprepared. And I’ll see if Killer wants any of my food or water. I don’t see that he has any supplies with him, unless he lost stuff in the slide. Or, if he didn’t have anything, I wonder if that means his ship is close? I can’t see any ship, but maybe it’s over the hill.


Moving slowly, I bring the duffle under the lean-to and start to unpack some of my supplies. Clicking like a metronome, Killer warily watches me. I guess he’s watching me. Who can tell with that mask? He must be feeling okay, since he’s sitting up again and looking alert. That miracle dressing stuff looks like it has already hardened. And maybe he did have pain meds in that kit.      


Keyla came over to see what I was doing and supervise. She sticks her face into the duffle and I push her head out of the way. “Beat it. There’s a whole carcass over there for you to nibble on. This is for us. And where were you when the hard work was being done, huh?” I rub her ears just how she likes it. She made me feel better just being there. 


Out come the security stakes, which I put to the side for a few moments. I pull out one of the clear water bottles, hold it up to show Killer, and slowly move to place it on the ground within his reach - opposite the arm with the now-hidden blades. I grab the bottle I already opened, and took a long drink, spilling some over my face and hands to rinse off the grime. I pour some more on a tin plate for Keyla to lap up if she wants. 


Next out of the bag come some of the foodstuffs. I arrange a little bit of each on some plastic on the ground. That’s the best I can do for a tray. I open everything up so Killer can see what is there. Holding everything up, I describe each item as I place it on the ground within his reach. 


“This is dried Care Bear jerky treats. Made ‘em myself, and I must say they came out yummy. Needs more salt, though. Here we have three, count ‘em, three varieties of energy bars. This one is fruity, this one is kind of spammy – we call that mystery meat. And last but not least, this one tastes like a spicy cookie. In fact, you kind of smell like it. Which is a good thing! Really! These are boiled eggs, not sure from what. They came from the ship stores. These root things kind of taste like bitter carrots, they’re okay, I guess. A little too healthy for me to really like. I prefer meat. And this - this is chocolate. I don’t have much left, being a chocoholic myself, but you can have some if you want. Have you heard that saying, ‘forget love…I’d rather fall in chocolate?’ Well, I have a firm conviction that chocolate can solve all the problems in the universe. Um, yeah. Anyway, you can try any of this stuff. Dodge’s a la carte’ diner is open. Yeah. Well, I’ve got to secure the camp. Bon appetite.” 


I struggle to my feet, popping a piece of cookie bar in my mouth and a jerky strip in my pocket. 


I pick up the stakes and look around to survey the terrain so as to determine the best spots to place them. They are a handy-dandy survival item to have. Not only would they give an alarm if anything crossed the perimeter, but they also gave a close-to-lethal electric shock. The package said “Guaranteed to knock out a 15,000 lb. organic.” I think that means lethal to anything smaller than an elephant. I am reasonably sure it will work on Care Bears here. Reasonably sure is fine with me, considering I don’t have a choice. 


I make my way carefully up the hillside about 20 feet away. 


Should I use 3 stakes for a triangle effect, or 4 for a square? Hmm, decisions or decisions. I opted for 4, since I had enough of them anyway. I knock loose a couple small rocks that roll down and hit Killer in the back, and got a growl in response. Oops. “Sorry big guy.” 


Next stake in, over that-a-way, and then the last two closer to the trees. Turning them on is easy, just hit the button on the included remote and, voila’, instant security. And they turn off the same way.


Okey dokey. I make my way over to Killer. I saw him watching me while I had been putting the security up. Don’t know if he knew what I was doing or not. I’m going to have to trust him alone in camp while I take care of the CB. I’m sure he’ll understand what I expect of him, the complexity of the med kit shows he’s not stupid. 


I make sure I have his attention, hold up the remote, and press the button that turns on the juice. There was no sound, but looking closely between the stakes, I can see a slight shimmer in the air. Time for the demonstration. I pick up a good-sized rock, toss it across the invisible line, and gave a girley squeal, as the rock is zapped into sand and a buzzing alarm that sounded like a clock radio went off. 


“Frag! That’s some bug zapper! Pay attention Killer, you’re going to do this next.” 


I hit the button to turn everything off, walk over toward Killer and hold out the remote for him to take. Killer tilts his head, purrs and just looks at me. I shook the remote in my hand and thrust it in his face, er…mask. He jerks his head back at my invasion of his personal space.


“Here, I have to leave and take care of the Care Bear carcass. This will keep you safe while I’m gone. I’ll be just over there in the woods.” 


Killer gingerly reaches out and plucks the remote from my hand. His talons tickle my palm and gave me the willies. I wave in the general direction of the Care Bear saying, “I’m going over there, turn it on after I’m past the stakes. Okay?” 


I hope he understands what I mean; I’d hate to get deep fried after all this. I went to the duffle to grab my knife case, some containers and bags, and lope out past the perimeter of the stakes. Once I was on the outside, I turn around and mime pressing a button. Killer hit the remote and the air shimmered. Mission accomplished. 


I walk off towards the woods, Keyla ambling after me, once again saying over my shoulder, “don’t move Killer, I’ll be back soon.”






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