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Planet Mudball - Predator fanfiction Chap 4



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 4


The previous days had been incredibly rough. Rough and exhausting. I had to practically kill people to get this vacation time. It’s a beautiful fall morning, brisk and clear. I was kissin’ Valentino beside a crystal blue Italian stream. He was growling sweet nothings in my ear, and feeding me cinnamon cookies. Mmm, this is promising. The furs on the bed are warm and purr vibrations into my body. He tells me in his bedroom voice, c’mon honey, let’s go make some noise.


The bed starts to vibrate, and Valentino begins to fade, to elongate and stretch, he’s being pulled down a wormhole, arms extended, yelling at me to toss him the pudding. Aargh, why do all my relationships end with the men running away with my pudding? Well, to the pit with him, I’m keeping the pudding. It’s chocolate and I need it. 


The shaking got worse and someone is pushing on my shoulder. I curl up into a ball, hug my furry pillow, and wish my parental unit would leave me alone. “Five more minutes, Ma, five minutes,” I mumble, and pull my blanket over my head. I try to salvage the tingly feeling that is rapidly fading away. Hey, wait a minute, growling? Is that my stomach? I am kind of hungry after smelling those cookies. Cookies? What cookies? Maybe I should get up…. 


A louder growl in my right ear and a hissing yowl from the bundle clutched in my arms jerks me fully awake, dream dissipating into a fog as I flail in panic. My hand hit something hard with a clang. “Owie! What the pit?!”   Keyla kicks at my gut to get out from under covers.


I look up right into reflective bug eyes, and yelp in surprise. Killer looms over me, leaning on one arm, head cocked. I can feel his growls vibrate deep in my bones.


The ground is shaking and I try to wrap my sluggish brain around the fact that I’m not dreaming anymore. I’m lying on the ground, getting smushed by an alien who, in turn, is getting pelted with small stones that are making musical thumps on his helmet. I don’t know if I can dream anything weirder.   


Earthquake! Slag, why are there rocks hitting us? The security fence must be off or broken. Keyla and I huddle under Killer’s massive chest, letting him take the minor abuse. I guess he must be feeling protective. Rather gentlemanly of him to shelter us from the rocks. Fine with me, I’m not proud. No wonder I’m thinking of food, he smells yummy.


What a wonderful start to day three in our camp on the hill, also known as Camp More-Than-Meets-The-Eye. It may look uninhabited, but that’s only because Killer went and turned himself invisible. I still envy his fancy toys, and I’m trying to figure out how I can con some from him. But, that’s a problem for another time. 


Three minutes and the tremors cease. We’re lucky that all of the big stones had already fallen on Killer when I first found him. Well, maybe Killer wasn’t lucky, but I know what I mean. Killer grunts and surprises me by using my levering-rocks-off-Killer-pole to heave himself off the ground.  


“Hey,” I yell, “What are you doing, trying to walk around? In case you didn’t notice, your leg’s still in two pieces! You can’t walk yet!” I find myself talking to his back as he proves me wrong, limping to his spot on the other side of the fire pit. He slowly eases himself back down. What am I going to do with him? Typical male, won’t listen to advice. He probably doesn’t listen to his wife either. I wonder how much he’s healed already. I’m impressed. Who knows how his physiology works? Maybe it’s his miracle med kit. Wonder if I can bottle and sell whatever it is? Nah, I’m sure it’s the chocolate. Well, he’s certainly doing better than any human would with the same injuries. 


If he can move, that’s a good enough reason for us to leave this area. There have been numerous tremors each day we’ve been here, and this quake today bodes no good, no good at all. It’s not safe to stay here anymore. Plus it’s too open. I’d rather be back at my ship anyway. Well, I’m awake now. I push Keyla away so I can drag my carcass out of bed.    


Here we go, the beginning of another day babysitting an alien life form. Though, to be fair, Killer has been a model patient. I suspect that he’s been walking around, probably while I’m sleeping. Wonder how he managed to navigate the supplies and stuff in camp without tripping or kicking something over. He must be able to see in the dark. Or, he’s got night vision goggles in his back pocket. Wish I had thought to bring a pair of those with me…could have been very helpful. I’ll have to put them on my Supplies-To-Have-When-Marooned-On-A-Planet list. Yeah, that’s one list that keeps getting longer and longer. Maybe I should start a 100-Reasons-To-Stay-Home-Forever list. That would probably be more helpful in allowing me to live to live to a ripe old age. Hmm, I wonder how old Killer is. Gives me something to ponder while I do my ADL’s. 


Coming back from the edge of the woods a short while later, I have a plan. 


One, fix the security fence. Even if we’re gonna leave, no sense taking chances ‘til we actually go. I took a quick look-see earlier, and I only have to fix one spike. It got pushed over by a larger sized rock during the quake. No sweat.


Deux, make a sturdier crutch or hiking stick for Killer. Obviously he can move around with a bit of support and it should make it easier for him to travel. Hopefully to my ship, since I don’t know if he’s even got a ship, or where it would be. And Killer certainly doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get back to it. So we go to mine. The only obstacle I see is if he doesn’t understand what I want him to do, or if he just doesn’t want to go. 


Okay, last but not least, number three, pack up camp and head out. Yes, that’s the goal, sleeping in my own bunk on my ship tonight. I wonder if I can get Killer to carry most of the supplies…?


I look toward Killer’s spot, and notice something is different. Hey, what’s that stuff on his back? Looks like a pack, or more equipment or something on his shoulders. Where did that come from? I swear he didn’t have that yesterday, and it wasn’t in camp. What’s he got, a subspace pocket or something? I’m gonna have to keep a better eye on him. Dang, he’s probably not gonna carry anything else for me, now.


Guess I better get started or we’ll be stuck here for another day. 


I fix the fence, which takes longer than I estimated. Partly because the stake got bent, and partly because Keyla’s bothering me the whole time. I guess she couldn’t get any affection from Killer. I go to my pack to grab some gear so I can start on the crutch, and I hear a humming sound behind me. Looking around, I see Killer with my Care Bear paws! What the pit is he doing? Craning my neck, I could see that he had pulled the talons out. Right now he is using something that looks like tweezers to hold a talon in his right hand, while his left hand held some sort of laser tool that is searing the meat scraps off the nail and shining them up.


I swear at him under my breath. “Fragger, thievin’ pit spawn, sonofa….” The nerve! After all I’ve done for him, too. That he would steal MY trophies. Actually I feel a little hurt. Sigh. On Planet Mudball, possession is law. Especially if you’re eight feet tall and weigh as much as…as...well, weigh a lot. Slaggit. Note to self: hide future trophies from Killer.


Grumbling, I find my stringsaw and head out to find crutch material, Keyla still sauntering behind me. Let him have the stupid talons.  


A short time later, I’m in a much better mood. I magnanimously decide to forgive Killer for taking my trophies. The thief in question is messing with his med kit. Lying next to him is his new, freshly made, patent-pending crutch. Or walking stick. Or whatever. It turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself. After a quick parody from me, he understood right away what it was for. He’s pretty good at charades. I bet he’s a real party animal when he ‘s out with the guys.   


I still have to explain to him that I want to leave. I think a drawing will help me get my point across, so I dig out a small notebook and writing utensil and gingerly settle myself down next to Killer. He is now working on drilling small holes through the ends of the talons with his lazer. Interesting. Keyla plops down on his other side. He ignores me, glances at Keyla and pats her head. She purrs loudly and happily. I see where I rate. I clear my throat to try to get him to look at me. 


“Okay Killer, please pay attention. I want to leave this place.” As I talk, I make sketches on the paper to represent the mountains, woods, and my ship’s area.  I put two stick figures on the mountainside, one noticeably larger than the other, and then add a four-legged figure. Pathetic. My niece in kindergarten can do better. Ah well, to paraphrase my favorite space doctor, “I’m a bean-counter, not an artist!”


Tapping the mountain area on the paper, I continue. “Here…is a map, of where we are.” I again tap the figure to represent me, and point at my chest. “This is me…this is you,” I point at the large figure and then at Killer, “and that is Keyla.” Another tap. “Got it so far?”




“My ship is here,” I draw a crude picture of my ship on the ground. “And I would like to go back to my ship, and take you along.” I draw the stick figures at the ship, use my two fingers to pantomime walking, and trace a line from the mountainside through the woods, to the clearing. I draw some rocks falling down the hill onto the stick figures. 


“It’s too dangerous here. Are you getting what I’m telling you? I am going to finish packing up and then we should all leave.” 


I point at the ship picture and then at Killer. “Do you have a ship?” I tap the paper. “Ship, where is it?”


He cocks his head and growls. What is that supposed to mean - yes, no, or shut up stupid, stop bothering me? I am beginning to despair that I might have to leave him, but no way was I staying on this hill for another day. 


Killer stretches out his hand and points at the drawing.   He set his talon down on the mountainside, taps the three figures, and traces a line through the woods that ends at the ship. He again taps three times and rumbled within his throat. Ooh, that’s a new sound. Did that mean he understood what I wanted? Only one way to find out. Finish packing and see if he comes along.    


“Alrightythen. The sooner we pack up, the sooner we can go.” 


I take my sketch, get up and move off to start striking down the camp. 


Later, I stuff the last of the supplies into my bags. There isn’t that much to pack, as I didn’t bring much. Just the security stakes are left to pick up. Killer’s messing around with a pile of stuff I hadn’t seen before. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear his ship is nearby and he’s laughing at me that I can’t see it. Wait a minute, maybe his ship is invisible! No wonder I can’t see it! No, no, that’s impossible. Maybe it’s disguised as this mountain, and we’re walking on the top of it. Yeah, right. Talk about science fiction. Dodge, get your head out of your aft. 


Looks like we’re all set. We’ve still got most of the day left, plenty of time to get back to the ship without rushing. Let’s see if Killer is ready and willing to go. I walk over and stand right in front of him.   


He ignores me, as usual. Said practice is starting to annoy me. 


“Hey, Killer, I am ready to go, are you coming or not? I’m going to take down the security fence.” I turn and call Keyla to follow me, to give Killer some time alone. She’s been bothering him the whole time I was packing. I just can’t figure out what she finds so fascinating about him. And I find it hard to believe that he doesn’t mind her hanging so close. I guess there’s no accounting for tastes, alien or feline. 


Okey dokey. Fence is down and packed. Nothing is left in camp except some depressions in the dirt. Killer is standing, pack or whatever it is on his back, leaning slightly on his new crutch. He watches me double check the area. Keyla’s already halfway towards the wood line. I’ve got my gun across my back, along with my backpack, and I am going to drag my duffle behind me. I just can’t carry both.


“Alright people…uh, I mean, everyone, let’s roll out.” 


I walk by Killer, and as I pass, he catches at my arm. I start, he has never voluntarily touched me before and he does scare me a little. Very slowly he reaches his closed fist toward me, like he’s got something in it. I glance up at him suspiciously, “What?” 


He gives a chitter and a purr and shakes his fist, pretty much conveying the demand that I take what is in his hand. I’m going to be very pissed if it is something slimy or gross. I tentatively hold out my hand and he drops something white and gold that spills over my palm. At first I thought it was a snake. “Whoa,” my mouth gapes as I recognize the Care Bear talons that he had been working on. They’ve been cleaned and polished and threaded on what looks like a gold chain to make a fantastic-looking necklace. The large canines even have tiny marks carved into them. It looks both primitive and expensive and totally breathtaking. 


“What? Is this for me?” I drop the duffle so I can paw over the necklace with both hands. “It’s fantastic! And here I thought you were just stealing…I mean, um…I was…wonderingwhatyouweredoingwiththetalons.” I sputter in embarrassment, trying to cover up my faux pas, vowing never to take first impressions to heart again.       


Killer clicks and shakes his head, reaches for my discarded pack and swings it over his one shoulder. He starts to follow Keyla towards the woods, limping only slightly. Then he winks into invisibility. It briefly startles me, but I slip the necklace over my head and tuck it under my shirt, feeling very cheerful. I love it when a plan comes together.


“Hey, wait up! I’m supposed to be leading this expedition, not you guys!” I guess I just have to assume that Killer is going with us, since I can’t see him. Stupid alien, I grumble to myself. But that was really nice to make me the necklace. I hope we’re not engaged or anything, just because I accepted it. Ha, wouldn’t that be funny. Well, maybe not that funny. Guess I couldn’t do any worse. I’m figuring it’s a good thing that the Care Bear skull was destroyed, or he might have made me wear that on my chest. Or on my head. I giggle to myself as I envision that image of horror, and dash off to catch up with my compadres.   


We start out slowly, there’s no reason to rush to get back. We aren’t half a planet away from the ship anyway. I just want to make it sometime before dark. It feels great to be on the move. I can tell Keyla is ecstatic, foraging ahead, stalking prey, both real and imaginary. I keep a sharp lookout, but the woods are pretty quiet. Almost un-naturally quiet. I attribute it to Keyla running around scaring everything away and my usual water buffalo elegance in the woods. 


I’m quiet for a change, even though I really feel like yapping at Killer. Wherever he is. I’m sure he’s nearby. So I concentrate on the terrain. Anyway, with Killer being invisible, I’d look like a lunatic talking to the voices in my head. 


There are lots of changes due to all the shaking that had been occurring the last few days. Fallen trees, sink holes and even a couple spots where underground springs had erupted and made the surrounding area swampy. Yeah, this is a great vacation. Hot, muggy, and wet. Here’s a huge tree to climb over. Keyla has hopped over it three times already, impatient for me to catch up. I have to be careful, I don’t need to fall in the mud. And as soon as I think of falling, I do. My hand slips off the trunk and my right side hits the ground. Great, now I’m muddy from the hip down. And my boot is stuck. What are the odds? I must have the worst luck in this galaxy. And we’ve only trudged halfway.


I drop my pack and work my foot out. Ug. I need a break anyway. I’m glad I didn’t do a facer. I take a water bottle and try to clean up a bit. I’m relaxing on the trunk and taking a drink when Killer appears in front of me. Water goes up my nose, and I spit all over myself. “Don’t DO that!”   Now I’m really torqued off. Killer put his hands on his hips and chittered. And he stands there staring at me. I wipe my face, blow my nose and take another drink. And he is still standing there. “Oh, alright, alright, I’m moving.” 


Grumbling, I stomp along, I can feel mud down my boot now. Great. I can’t wait to see what happens to me next. 


We’ve been on the trail for about an hour, and I start to recognize specific landmarks that let me know we are getting close to the ship. Finally, thank Primus. I need a bath. 


I think Killer is getting impatient also. He’s been visible since I had stopped for a break, and whenever I slow up, he growls and gives me a little push. It is starting to perturb me immensely. After the fifth or seventh push, I round on Killer snarling, “Quit it. I’m leading and we’ll go at my pace. I’m tired and dirty and I don’t wanna fall again.”


He tilts his head to the left and I hear a distorted version of my voice, like a long distance ship-to-ship connection, come from the mask. “Quit it.” 


“What! Hey, what is that? You can TALK! You CAN talk! And you’re just saying something now, after three days together! You slagger.”


“You can talk.”


“Quit copying me.”


“Quit it.”


“I mean it Killer. Cut it out.” 


“Cut it out.” 


“Ahh, you’re gonna drive me crazy! Can’t you say anything original?”




“Well…okay then.”


“Let’s roll out.” 


I make a disgusted sound under my breath and he responds with a clattering, trilling sound. I’ll bet credits he’s laughing at me. I pout and keep quiet, but at least he isn’t mimicking me anymore. I hate that. So in revenge, I slow my pace even more. I am so petty. That doesn’t work too well, because I find myself suddenly picked up and tucked under Killer’s arm, pack and all.


“Killer, put me down! Killerrrr! Right now! Come on you slagger, I’m sorry, I’ll pick up the pace, I swear, I’ll…pleeeze put me down.” Kicking and wiggling didn’t do any good, and he is squeezing me tightly. “Ah, do you want me to spew? ‘Cause I’m gonna if you don’t stop squishing me!” His grip loosened when I stopped kicking and wiggling. I might as well enjoy the ride. We are almost within sight distance of the ship anyway. A thought suddenly struck me.


“Hey, how do you know where you’re going? Have you been here before?” A little louder and panicky, “Have you been spying on me? I bet that was you who was lurking around, making me think there were monsters in the woods, and scaring me….” Keyla interrupted my tirade by suddenly appearing in our path, blocking Killer from going any further. She erupts into a series of yowls and spitting, and scratches at the ground. She’s really wound up. I tense, wondering if there was a Care Bear nearby. No, she wouldn’t be standing in the center of the path if there were. Too open, she’d probably be running for shelter. 


Killer drops me with no warning. I land on my backpack, getting the wind knocked out of me. I sputter, try to catch my breath. “Yeow, hey, what was that, what was that? How about a little respect for the puny human, huh!”


Killer stares at Keyla, it looks like he understands exactly what she is saying. She’s certainly kicking up a fuss. I don’t see what the problem is, and besides, I’m tired and the ship is almost in sight. “Well, if it’s unsafe, we’ll be better off at the ship, you stupid cat.” I struggle up and move around her to continue. 


Keyla darts in front of me and tries to bring me to a halt, but I’m not having any of it. Home and chocolate were in sight and nothing is going to stop me. Well, maybe a Care Bear, but not an overgrown kitten. “Out. Of. My. Way.”   


Killer must have winked out again, because I didn’t see him anymore. I put on a burst of speed, trying to outdistance Keyla, who is still wailing and complaining, trying to trip me up.


“What is your malfunction?” I step out of the brush into the clearing around the ship and declare, “See, there’s nothing here….” 


Oh. Well. My words trail off as I glace around the area. What a mess. The quake must have really hit hard around here. Stuff is everywhere…wait a minute. This doesn’t look like quake damage. Everything is disturbed, like an animal came rampaging through and tore up anything not nailed down. Slaggit, I bet a Care Bear moved into the area and messed up the camp. I realize Keyla is no longer behind me, and I drop my backpack in the weeds and swing my plasma gun up. 


“Keyla, Killer, where are you?” I try to call softly. If a CB is sleeping or just anywhere nearby, I don’t want to wake or alert it. I slowly and carefully move toward the ship’s door, my eyes trying to take in everything at once. 


Looks like something tried to dig up the graves – gross. They’re not neatly mounded anymore, but I don’t see any body parts. Maybe whatever was doing the digging got scared away before it could finish. Ah, my cook pots have been tossed all over and my tarp has been ripped off the line. There’s a lot of damage, what happened here?


Mumbling under my breath, I hesitate as I see my camp chair set up over by the fire pit. Now, I know for a fact that I left it carefully folded up to the left of the door. Didn’t I? I’m not liking what I’m starting to think. This is not good. If I didn’t put it there, who did? And there seems to be an awful lot of litter around. Now I’m not fastidious, but I know better than to leave garbage around. It attracts…pests. 


I focus on the fire pit, and I can see the remains of what looks like meat in the ashes. The thought of the disturbed graves makes me gag. Please not that. I’m getting nauseous and nervous. Animals don’t use fire. 


I’m not really sure what I’m looking for as I glance around. An alien like Killer? But, wouldn’t he be invisible too? Can they see each other if both of them are invisible? I wish Killer and I could communicate better. I grip my gun tightly, so it doesn’t slip out of my nervous, sweaty hands. Just because Killer is friendly doesn’t mean another alien will be. I’ll feel safer once I’m in the ship. 


I back towards the door, constantly scanning the perimeter, and blindly reach back to swat at the door controls. Hurry up, hurry, open the door. I’m paying more attention to the clearing and wood line than what is behind me, and I feel pain in my palm as I make contact with something sharp and hot. My head whirls back to see what hurt me. “Primus fraggit! What….” 


My gut clenches, as I see the fried door controls. “Oh, oh….” 


At my words, the door slides open and I’m face-to-face with a figure, who is standing inside my ship.  I freeze in place. At first, I think it’s another alien, but as my brain catches up with my eyeballs, I realize it’s a human wearing green/grey body armor, a bucket-like helmet with a T-shaped visor in front holding a…what is that? Whatever it is – it’s one pit of a gun. It makes mine look like a peashooter. I think I’m in trouble…I know I’m in trouble. He seems just as surprised to see me, as he backs up a step, then turns his head slightly to yell at someone deeper inside the ship. MY ship! Slag it, doesn’t anyone respect personal property anymore?


He recovers quicker than I, and brings his gun to bear on my midsection. I’m so gonna die – oh, I hope Killer takes care of Keyla, where are they anyway I hope nothing happens to them I scream and swing my gun around I am so sloowww….






A/N – Bwahaha. A cliffhanger! I hate ‘em as a reader, I love ‘em as a writer. Chapter 5 will follow by the weekend.




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