When Crank’s eyes open yet again, all is still. He and Simone are lying in a heap behind an old truck. Crank glances around, in order to get his bearings. The diner, with its broken front window, is several meters away. No oomans linger inside the building and the lights are turned off. The ooman vehicle which once sat in the parking lot is no longer there. The elderly ooman and his companions have gone.

As Crank scans their surroundings, he catches sight of a familiar shape. A rogue hunter decloaks about a hundred yards to his right, obscured by shadow and trees. Crank spies another hunter not far from the first, visible as a shimmering distortion of the light. Hunters usually came in groups of no less than three. There is another hunter hiding somewhere.

No sooner has Crank thought this, a sliver of light appears behind the first hunter. The sliver of light grows to reveal the form of an enormous yautja. The emerging yautja is armed excessively, his plasmacaster much larger than any Crank has ever seen. The massive hunter's implement belt and mesh suit are heavily decorated with an array of skulls; both large and small. His confident stride leaves no doubt in Crank's mind. This hulking yautja is the rogue hunt leader. And he has come with one purpose. To kill. The hunt leader descends a set of steps and joins his two subordinates. The sliver of light shrinks and disappears. A hunter’s ship.

The hunt leader crosses between the other two yautja and activates his own cloak. A shiver courses Crank’s spine. The hunt will begin in earnest now. The hunter's must have witnessed the bright light which heralded Crank and Simone's return to this realm. Their troubles are far from over.

Crank shakes Simone, who is only minimally conscious. She moans softly, but he places a hand over her mouth, causing her eyes to shoot open. Crank presses a finger to his lips and nods toward where he last saw the rogue hunters.

“They’re here,” he says almost inaudibly. “Follow me.”

Crank holds Simone’s hand as they sneak along the side of the truck and peek around the wide bumper. His shoulder still smarts from Paul’s shotgun blast, but Crank pushes down the pain. Crank’s intention is to run towards the gas station. There are several large obstructions to hide behind along the way. If they can make it to the gas station, Simone may be able to gain access to one of the vehicles parked there? Not much against a rogue hunting vessel, but better than standing around waiting to be plasma cannoned.

Crank’s plan goes to pot when the back window of the truck suddenly explodes. Simone screams in pain as a piece of glass slices her cheek. She raises a hand to the side of her face and blood seeps from between two of her fingers. Crank yanks Simone up and pulls her forward. They can no longer stay behind the truck. They’ve been spotted.

Crank pushes Simone down, and rolls, as a plasma burst comes close to hitting them both. His reflexes still have not returned to normal and he stumbles a little as he once again pulls Simone to her feet.

They race top speed toward the gas station. The side window explodes into a million pieces just as they make it inside. The toothless old ooman behind the counter shoves his glasses higher up on his face and screams in their direction.

“What in the Sam He—,”the old man says.

Before Simone can reply, Jerry's head explodes in as many pieces as the window. Obliterated by a blast from D'tak's plasmacaster.

Simone screams again. She and Crank run for the back of the station. They hope against hope that the hunters won’t already be there. Would they know if they were? Simone spots the freezer. She motions toward it.

“We could go in there?” she says in a panicked voice.

Crank shakes his head. Too obvious. If the hunters want him, they will have to seek him out. They will not find him cowering in an ooman meat place.

“No. They will expect us to hide rather than run,” Crank says. “We keep going.”

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He grips Simone’s hand tighter to emphasize his point. Simone puts on a burst of speed to match his pace and keep from being yanked off her feet.

Crank kicks the back door of the station open with one powerful kick and they race into the surrounding woods. He is surprised they made it this far. Spying a group of three port-a-johns; Crank pulls Simone behind them. The putrid smell of ooman waste invades his senses and Crank tries not to show it. He grips Simone’s hand tightly and presses it to his lips.

“You must hide, Simone. I cannot. You must hide somewhere they wouldn’t expect to find you,” Crank says. “These human waste containers will disguise your scent and warmth for a short time. Based on what little information we are taught about ooman females…They may not expect an ooman female to hide in such a place. The smell is so revolting. But you’ll have to move now.”

Tears seep from Simone's eyes and she shakes her head vigorously. The cut on her left cheek still bleeds and thin streaks of red run down that side of her face.

“What about you? I’m not going anywhere without you!” Simone states, clenching a fist at her side. "That was the deal."

Crank chitters with irritation and tries to reason with her. His heart races as he quickly scans the surrounding area. He fixes his gaze on Simone's stricken face.

“Please don’t argue. There’s no time.” Crank says. “I will try to negotiate with them. If I agree to go back…If I can convince them that you are not a threat…They may leave without further incident? Either way, I have to try. But you cannot be with me when I do."

Simone fixes Crank with a purposeful glare and whispers a single word:

“No!”

Crank has had enough. Tearing at the disguise on his face, he removes all but a flap of fake skin hanging from one cheek. His true face revealed once again, Crank draws Simone into a final kiss. Simone grips his face with both hands, her mind reeling with passion and despair.

With one hand, Crank carefully reaches into his implement belt and removes the small aerosol spray he used on the German Shepherd. He knows what he plans to do next will be a mistake. But he doesn’t care. Not if it will save Simone’s life. She will wake up with one hell of a headache. And she will be furious. Be she will be alive.

Separating himself from Simone, he sprays a light mist in her face. Simone gags and clutches at her throat. She blinks rapidly and her eyes lock on Crank‘s. A look of betrayal contorts her features. Then, she goes limp. Crank lays Simone down behind the port-a-johns and covers her slumbering form with foliage. He can only hope it is enough.

Reaching behind him and grabbing his mask, Crank puts it on. Next, he inputs a sequence into his wrist device and all but disappears. Crank leaves Simone and heads toward where he first saw the door of the hunter’s ship open.

No sooner does Crank drop his cloak, and step out into the open, three large distortions materialize nearby. Crank recognizes them for what they are; because he has done the same many times. Raising his hands in the air, Crank strides toward the three camouflaged rogue hunters. He chitters from deep in his throat; expecting the hunters to cut him down at any moment. He is surprised they have not done so already. Something is not right.

"I am Crank. Descendant of Cha'tal," Crank says in his native tongue. "I surrender myself to the will of the elders."

The largest of the hunters, their leader, drops his cloak and growls at Crank. The hunter’s hatred for Crank radiates from his entire body. His enormous bulk rigid and tensed for battle. Three small dots appear above Crank's left pectoral muscle and he briefly glances down at them. He steels himself for the killing shot. However, there is a slight hesitation from the furious rogue leader.

Before any killing can begin, a larger ship decloaks. Crank’s mouth drops open as he recognizes the shape and the insignia. The other rogue hunters decloak and stare dumbfounded at the massive ship hovering above them.

A sliver of light, which steadily begins to grow, appears on the large ship’s side. At the same instant, a metal staircase descends toward the ground. A yautja female dressed in elegant robes, and beads woven throughout her mesh netting, traverses the staircase in the hunters’ direction.

Yajul’ta strides confidently past the rogue hunters and stands before her son. A yautja smile creases her aged face and she reaches out a strong hand.

“I know of everything,” Yajul’ta says, tightly clasping Crank’s hand.

Crank kneels before his mother and kisses her palm over and over. A wide smile brightens his minimally disguised face. He could not be more glad to see her.

“We have traveled far and quickly to be here,” Yajul’ta continues. “I would not permit them to murder one so valuable to our clan. One of the last surviving heirs of mighty Cha’tal…Who saved our clan from utter destruction during the blooding of the Keinde Amedha. Whatever you decide, Crank. We will abide by your decision.”

Crank kisses his mother’s hand again, and glances toward where Simone lies unconscious beneath the trees. He turns back to his mother with a pained expression. He knows whatever choice he makes will be hard. But, wouldn’t Simone be better off without him? Without the constant threat of returning hunters? Crank cannot be sure.