The walls of the pyramid shift again. Scar rises from his place of deep contemplation and moves quickly down the dark corridor. The long screech from the serpent can only mean one thing. One of his warrior kin is dead.
Following the heat trail of at least three oomans, Scar finds them cowering at the foot of a staircase. It is the infirm ooman, the female, and one other. The thin ooman male stops pacing and races to the female's side. He utters a string of unintelligible words, such is his fear.
The infirm male hollers an order and the second ooman grabs the female. She struggles in his grip, and glances from Scar to the infirm one. She tries to coax the sick ooman to rise. Instead, he barks another loud order. The second male drags the female away, but not before Scar glimpses the plasmacaster inside her bag. This cannot be so.
To give the female his weapon was a stroke of genius. These new oomans are smarter than their predecessors--if only by the smallest fraction. However, if they believe that doing so will prevent him from obtaining his weapon--they are sadly mistaken.
Renewing his prideful gait, Scar storms toward the staircase. He will soon have his weapon. The infirm male strikes out with a pointed tool. His feeble aim is off-target. Scar grips the sick ooman’s throat in a large hand and scans his body cavity. This creature is barely alive, tumors of enormous size growing on every part of his breathing organs. Certainly, not worth a fight. Scar releases the infirm ooman and turns to go up the stairs.
In a fit of rage, the ooman male yanks free a small canister from his person. He utters a cry which is barely audible and fires a gout of flame at Scar’s back. Hesitating only a second, Scar turns and ejects his wrist blades. A quick death then.
Scar impales the infirm ooman on his sharpened blades. The sick one's breath escapes in a hoarse gasp. As Scar watches, the remaining life fades from the ooman’s eyes. Scar retracts his blades and the body of the ooman falls away. The body rolls down the steps and lands on the stone below. Eyes still open even in death.
Scar shakes his head in frustration. He has lost the other two oomans. No matter. He will catch up with them soon enough. The lone yautja picks up the pace. He strides purposefully through the winding corridors. He does not run like the puny oomans. There is no need.
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The grinding of stone against stone reaches the yautja warrior’s sensitive ears. He spies the male ooman just as he rounds a corner. The ooman is attempting to squeeze into a tiny closing space in the opposite wall.
Scar retrieves a throwing disc from his belt and hurls it at the ooman. The disc slices through the air, but misses the ooman. Scar curses in the language of his ancestors. Had he not missed, he could have simply waited for the chuf'trhat to shift again, before claiming the ooman’s severed head.
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Standing alone in a closed off chamber of the pyramid, Scar takes in his surroundings. It won’t be long before the walls move again. When they do, he will seek out the oomans. If necessary, he will use the female to his advantage. It is obvious by now, that the oomans consider her valuable. He can use that.
A scurrying behind Scar stops the warrior in his musing. One of the host implanters is attempting to catch him unawares. Deftly flinging a second throwing disc, Scar cuts the vile implanter straight down the middle. The two halves of the handlike monster writhe on the ground.
Scar’s senses go into overdrive. Real danger is not far. One of the serpent queen’s cursed offspring is hiding in a hollow recess above his position. Scar is able to hear the slight hiss the creature makes as it draws back its outer lip.
Pretending not to notice, Scar brazenly turns his back on the bony nightmare. The serpent creeps almost silently down the wall. When the creature is within striking distance, Scar swivels and severs the top of its head with the sharp edges of his throwing disc. Scar manages to inflict the mortal injury so expertly—and quickly—that the serpent’s body does not immediately react to its sudden demise. The beast’s nervous system inevitably accepts the truth and the serpent falls heavily to the ground. The severed piece of serpent skull sliding away before the spiny body even hits the floor.
Scar retracts the throwing disc and secures it on his belt. He growls triumphantly and kneels before the two halves of the fingery implanter. He breaks off one of the creature’s jointed appendages. Acid drips from the tip and Scar uses it to mark the symbol of his clan on the forehead of his facemask. Next, he uses the same appendage to mark his own forehead.
The pain is only slightly bearable, but the pride he fills outweighs everything else. Today, he has become a blooded youth. Soon, he will be a lot more. He will be the slayer of the serpent queen. He only hopes that Chopper was not killed. So that he may rub his victory in the hothead’s smug face.
As Scar considers the very real possibility that either Celtic or Chopper may have been murdered by the serpents. He forgets to be aware of all around him. A second host implanter clambers up a nearby pillar. This implanter is much different than the first; its flesh covered by a hard darkened carapace. Scar rises to his feet. The implanter leaps into the air just as he turns, plastering itself to his face.