Avp 2004 8

Five Hundred Miles Above Bouvetoya Island The Predators were awake now, and active. Naked, their pale, mottled flesh still gleamed from their immersion in the pool of primordial ooze. Five powerful beings swaggered onto the starship's bridge, their eyes gleaming with innate intelligence. Computer monitors flickered all around them as red, green and violet ripples of energy pulsed throughout the chamber. The cybernetic brain's voice-a constant, sibilant hiss like the sound of an angry rattlesnake—greeted its masters with an endless barrage of data. The bridge itself was dominated by a wide window that offered an awesome view of the planet Earth. Silhouetted against a backdrop of the blue-green planet shimmering below, one of the figures ran a talon over a crystalline control panel. With a whizzing pop, an airtight section of the wall opened to reveal suits of gleaming body armor, five demonic face masks, a plethora of weapons, and an array of short-barreled, shoulder-mounted cannons.

Wordlessly, the creatures girded themselves for the coming battle. Moving with mechanical efficiency, the Predators draped flexible mail-clad netting over their pale, hard-muscled arms and broad, barrel-like chests. Segmented battle armor was snapped into place, sheathing thick, corded arms and powerful legs. Reinforced boots, loin- plates and chest protectors followed. Then a bulky mechanism was attached to each creature's forearm, just below the elbow joint. A similar device was strapped to their right wrists. One of the creatures tested the mechanism. With a simple jerk of its sinewy arm, a long, curved, razor-sharp telescopic blade deployed with a soft snick. The formidable hunter examined the honed edge of the
blade, then grunted in satisfaction. Next came a ridged metal backpack attached to shoulder armor, with a built-in mount and power cables for a plasma cannon. Then the flat, heavy face masks were donned. Each mask was different, yet every one obscured its wearer's full face-except the burning eyes and the dangling, metal-tipped dreadlocks.
Finally, a computer was linked to each Predator's left wrist. Upon activation an LED display flickered, and, with a sudden hiss, the armored joints sealed to become airtight. Warm, humid air flooded the interior of the body armor, an atmosphere that mimicked the conditions of the Predators' home world. With this body armor in place, the hunters collected their weapons-long collapsible spears with serrated tips and curved double-edged blades with ivory grips.

Clamps on their gleaming body shields held folded
shuriken that, when thrown, would deploy wicked, retractable blades. Strangely, they left the plasma cannons on their racks, selecting only the less-advanced, almost primitive weaponry instead. Only one creature chose a high-tech weapon-a wrist-mounted net gun-though he counterbalanced that choice with a more basic, long, curved blade fashioned from a diamond-hard, bony substance. After they had all completed their preparations for
the hunt, the Predators filed into a small ritual chamber and knelt in supplication before a mammoth, intricately carved stone effigy of a fierce warrior god, a deity who hurled thunderbolts as weapons like some mighty, extraterrestrial Odin. As the Predators prostrated themselves before their savage god, a static-streaked image appeared on the bridge's main computer screen. It was the real-time
image of a parade of vehicles lumbering across a vast, frozen expanse.-Chpt.9 pgs.94-95