AVP Rift War 15

Within moments, everyone was awake and ready. All of them faced outward, backs protected as the three plasmacasters pointed equal distances apart. The
unblooded were spaced between them, combisticks and wristblades ready. Ptah'Ra felt his chest swell with pride. Yes, they were about to be attacked, but they were ready. As if to punctuate the moment, one of the LV-363 moons began to rise, its thin illumination breaking through the shadows of the night, filtering through the branches of the trees.

What he'd mistaken for bushes earlier were Xenomorphs, adults and juveniles; there were too many to count. Absent a queen, they had continued to multiply through the process Ca'toll had called "eggmorphing." The creatures faced them without moving, as though waiting for some kind of signal, proving they just might be more than simply creatures of instinct.

The Yautja were surrounded, but it didn't concern them. Being in such a tight formation would allow them to concentrate their fire without fear of being attacked from behind. The species stared at one another, time stretching between them. The Yautja stood tall and proud in armor and bio-helmets, while the Xenos hunched on four legs, tails twitching, heads jerking, mouths extending in what seemed like anticipation. Moonlight glinted off of their midnight carapaces.

Another long moment--and they attacked as one.
To call the battle a frenzy would be wrong. It was more like controlled chaos. Although the Yautja could not dictate when and where the Xenos came from, they could regulate their rates of fire and their ability to inflict damage. The plasmacasters did so repeatedly, but needed time to charge. In the between moments, the hunt leaders were protected by their unblooded, whose combistick spear points quickly were dripping with the acidic blood of their attackers. The battle felt like it took hours, when in reality it was over in a matter of minutes. Once the Xenos attacked, the Yautja defenses rapidly cut them down. Then an immense form landed directly into the center of the Yautja circle. It must have been moving through the trees overhead, the noise of its movement camouflaged by the battle.

Ptah'Ra spun and found himself face to face with a monster that towered over him. Its black surface glistened in the moonlight, teeth gritted and dripping with drool within an arm's length of his own face. Ptah'Ra's heart rate felt like it tripled. Remembering his heritage, he tried to spin his plasmacaster to fire, but it had less than one bar. It needed time to recharge. Time he did not have.

The others in the circle were hammering the surrounding Xenos with fire, so it was up to him to take care of this one. Before it could snap at him, he dove and somersaulted out of range. When he came up, Ptah'Ra had his wristblades extended.  The simplest of weapons that pups learned to use while they were sucklings, they were all that stood between him and death. He whirled-once, twice-the blades flashing beneath the creature's jutting chin and severing the Xeno's rippling neck muscles.

It screamed as it died, a hideous, deafening screech, flicking its tail and sending a rope of acid through the air. It hit his body armor but sloughed off. Had he not been wearing it, he'd have ended up with a scar like old Ny'ytap. Ptah'Ra twirled, ready for another battle, bellowing
with battle fervor. This was what he had been created to do.-pg.171-172-173 chpt.26