New sequel to Avatar; Recombinant Bridgehead!

[JforA]

Chapter 51 Wake
The spirit drifted as a slow-moving comet through the black void. Light rippled from its core in response to the fair voice calling its name. It tried to answer, but the ball had no mouth to speak, so it flitted towards the sound, with each echo bringing the lost will-o'-wisp closer. Across the black firmament, a dim light materialized, and a star was birthed into existence. It burned in the black sky as a single beacon to draw the little one home. The blur sped towards the mother light and was engulfed by heaven's embrace.

Zhâng found himself staring at a fluorescent ceiling. Something obstructed one eye, so he reached to remove whatever it was; however, his left arm would not budge, so he used his right. After freeing the eye of the cotton pad, it could perceive light but nothing else—it had gone blind. His fingers drifted, and he felt the third-degree burns down his face.

Casey... That was what struck his mind first upon recalling the accident. Did I warn you in time? ... Are you alive?

Immediately, he removed the nasal cannula with his returning strength. Tossing aside the piping, he shifted over to free his left arm, assuming it was strapped down, but there was nothing there to free. Minutes passed with him just staring at what was no longer there. He eventually sat up and remained that way for an indeterminable amount of time, his mind drifting in and out of awareness like a spirit that hadn't fully woken. What he wanted was a face, something he could connect to, an expression that he could register, someone to tell him all that had happened. More and more time passed before Zhâng noticed the photo on the wall. He turned to place his feet on the ground, utilized his teeth to rip out the IVs, and then came to a stand but wobbled so badly he had to sit down again. Realizing he was also linked to a catheter, Zhâng swore and spent the next few moments stripping that off too. Determined, he stood again, and though shakey, he did not fall as he walked over to the desired photo. His eyes were on CJ, smiling in that encapsulated moment alongside her equally happy friends. Removing it off the wall, he kept taking in that happy day, then looked around the room, registering all the tokens his team had left: the art, the flowers, the baseball cap, the books, the little direhorse, everything. He must have been out for a while, he deduced, but in that time, his team did not forget him.

Spoiler

He walked to the door to see if he could call for a nurse; instead, he was met with dead bodies—dead recombinant bodies. Zhâng staggered, propping one hand against the wall as he approached the casualties. He bent down to feel the wrist when he discovered the four fingers—he breathed instantly. His hand hovered across the uniform, over the bloodied patch, but there were no clues to tell him why this Na'vi was wearing it.

"You're awake?!"

Zhâng's head whipped around and was shocked to see Parker Selfridge, who was dressed as a HAF soldier.

"How the heck did you wake up?"

"Parker...?" The giant teetered forwards but lost his footing and stumbled.

"Easy, easy," Parker advised upon rushing over. "Wow, can't believe you're up. You've been in a coma for months."

"Months—?" the patient gulped.

Selfridge looked up and down the dingy halls for any sign of people, but they were alone.

"What happened here?" Zhâng asked after stabilizing himself against a wall.

"What hap—? You mean, you didn't kill these guys?"

"I just woke up."

"Crap. You don't know. Well, I mean, it's good that you're up, but it's a heck of a day to wake up to. There's a supposed rebellion going on, and Bridgehead's reporting that you guys are behind it—not that I ever believed that. I guess the suits in charge of our protection weren't watching our backs when these Na'vi warriors climbed our fricken one-hundred-foot wall."

"Um, I think these guys are serfs."

"Oh. Oh, that would make sense."

"Do you know where my team is?"

"No clue. Uhh... Look, I'll be real with you. You're the only one I knew I could reach," Parker confessed, scratching his pencil-shaped hairdo.

Zhâng strained his eyes but was grateful nonetheless. "Why are you in that uniform?"

"Oh, get this. Because the whole city's on lockdown, you can't get anywhere. I had to ride under combat trucks to get here. At one point, I was almost discovered and ran down an alley with some goon shooting at me. Now, my face is probably on some wanted list. Then I tripped over something—that's how I got this bruise—discovered it was a dead soldier and uh, well—"

"You swiped a dead man's uniform?"

Parker blanched. "It was the only way I could get past the checkpoints! I had to see if you were okay. CJ would kill me if I let anything happen to you."

"She's okay?!"

"Of course, wait... Oh. Well, knowing her, she's probably fine. I mean, she's tough. She's one of you guys."

"So you don't know?"

"I don't know where anyone is."

Zhâng bobbed his head. "Okay, I think I have a handle on what's going on. What's the situation outside?"

"Chaos. Military everywhere."

"Got it. I need to get out of this gown. See if you can start removing that man's gear."

"Me?"

"It didn't stop you before."

"Right..." Parker nervously got to work stripping the dead Na'vi. After the pants were removed, he was working on the shirt when he noticed Zhâng was struggling with the hospital gown. "Uh, you need any help?"

"I can manage," he insisted, but in his attempt, lost his balance. As he rested, the horrific reality that he would forever be without his other limb overpowered his mind. Parker decided to step in, to which the soldier yielded. "Guess I...do need some help..." It took some doing and a few swallows of embarrassment, but after patience and teamwork, the giant was comfortably in a pair of pants. "There's something else I need to get. Come with me." Zhâng returned to the room, where he took down the team photo and gave it to Parker with the polite request to remove it from its frame.

"Oh, hey, I remember that day. You guys were jerks."

"What did we do to you again?"

Parker had moved to a table stand to perform the task. Once he slipped out the photo from its casing, he turned back to the Marine and said upon giving it, "Dunked me in a water barrel. Learned the hard way my EXO pack wasn't watertight."

"If I recall...Tyler had to give you CPR." The recombinant tried to hide the chuckle that arose after the memory was pulled off the shelf and dusted—they had drawn straws before the medic just took responsibility.

Although the victim of that event, Parker noticed the comfort it brought Zhâng and was reluctant to call him back, but time was a luxury. The overseer tapped the blue arm. "We should...probably get going while we still can."

Being in full agreement, the man nodded and tucked away the photo.

"Anything else you need? Before we go?"

"No. Let's get a move on."

They journeyed back into the hall when the recom's alert ears honed in on the fast-approaching march of boots—boots that evolved into shouts. "Don't move! Don't move! Put your hands up!"

"No, no! You don't understand."

"Don't fight them, Parker," Zhâng warned.

One of them targeted Selfridge with the demand, "Who are you?"

"I'm, uh... Private, uh... Wa—"

"That's a civilian wearing a stolen uniform! Detain them both."

Hands in the air, the recombinant and his overseer were guided out of the ward and into the lobby, where paramedics on the scene were draping human casualties. Rifles nudging them onward, the men were escorted around the commotion and out through the vestibule door.

Outside, the sky was a dreary russet that accentuated the city's lights, diffusing through the murky smog. The two were forced onto their knees to await the transport that would haul them away.

"Well, this is great. Made it all this way just for this to happen."

"Hey, for what it's worth, you got pretty far."

"Thanks."


At the ruined river, where a band of Na'vi further disturbed the waters with their movements, Jake was busy stripping a harness from a dead ikran. A ways away was Neteyam, scouting the bank for what was dropped by the two women. He spotted, halfway in the silt, a big black club that he unearthed. He stood in place as he tried to decipher all the illegible names written around it, but the only one he could read was "Lyle." Near where he discovered the bat was a muddied tipi bag. Upon looking inside, he found an unfinished baby collar. He discreetly looked around before tucking it back in, then slung the bag over his shoulder. Neteyam walked up to his father. "Father, are you sure about this?"

Jake stopped handling the harness and stared up at his son with flat disappointment. "How do you know my plan?"

"Uh..."

"Neteyam you—!" He stopped to growl. "Where did you get this habit anyway?"

"Father, listen, you can't go into Bridgehead. They will kill you!"

"This time, son, they do have your sister."

"Even if you get past their border, they will shoot you once you're spotted. It's a suicide mission. We need you!"

"Kiri needs me."

"Then, let me go instead."

"You're the future. I'm yesterday," he countered, shutting his son down and moving to latch the equipment to Bob.

Neteyam splashed through the muck as he followed. "It's too soon for you to go! I'm too young to take over this clan."

His father clasped his shoulders firmly. "No, you are old enough now, Neteyam. You don't need me anymore. I can relax knowing that no matter what happens to me, there's someone reliable who can look after this family when I'm gone. I couldn't ask for a better son."

Neteyam took in his words with a foreboding he could not shake and a head he could not hold up.


Back at the cheerless camp, a woman approached a tent set up for the disabled, and standing at the entrance was Häku, who spun around upon hearing a familiar voice. "Tsmuke!"

Säro trembled with happiness as she came up to clasp hands.

|"I heard an Anurai escaped, but I did not know it was you. Why was it you? How?"|

|"I was lifted to freedom by one of the rekoms, a kind woman named Seezay."|

Häku grimaced hard. |"Do not speak that tribe's name to me."|

Säro tried not to wince as she swallowed her mistake. |"I was told about what happened to our home..."|

|"It is all destroyed. All of it burns—all of our greatness. That is why we are here—living on the charity of the other clans who are also now wretched."|

|"How is... How is Father?"|

|"He is inside,"| she whispered, bending her head in his direction.

|"May I see him?"|

|"Come."|

Inside the makeshift shelter and nestled in the back was a middle-aged man with no queue sitting cross-legged next to a sleeping Zwefnawo. |"Your father is resting, sister."| He smiled softly before sipping a concoction.

|"I thank you, Rawm. May we have a moment alone?"|

Politely, he rose and bid them farewell. Säro held back a cry and fell to her knees to hold her father's hand and set the back of it to her cheek. |"I am so sorry..."|

Häku knelt next to her sister. |"He has spoken little since he was returned to us."|

|"Has he lost use of speech?"|

|"I do not think so. Often, he sleeps, but when awake, I think he simply chooses not to talk."|

With a mournful gaze, she looked away and murmured, |"I see..."|

Häku placed her palm on his hip and petted it lovingly. |"Were you aware he was secretly sending out messages?"|

|"Yes."|

The crackle of the nearby cooking fire snapped, and the wind picked up, briefly unsettling the tent cloth.

|"Do you know how he was found out?"|

|"No, I do not know, Häku. Why do you look at me so?"|

The olo'eykte's suspicious eyes returned to her sleeping father. |"When he is awake, he is not lucid, but when I ask what happened, all I can make out is your name."|

|"Do you think I had something to do with what happened to Father?"| Säro snapped. The way her older sister stared into her, with eyes ready to believe the worst, was too much.

|"Did you?"|

Words sat on Säro's tongue, desperate to leap off, but she kept them stored. She knew she could share nothing; the truth would only be misunderstood. |"How could you think this of me?"|

|"What am I supposed to think?"|

|"I am innocent! I have done nothing wrong. Now, I have no home and no family, and my own sister thinks me evil."|

"Säro—" Häku hushed.

|"No! No more,"| she declared upon coming to her feet. The woman was done with being hushed, with being corrected, with being silenced by the elders of her family. |"When Father found out about Ly'il, he said I was not Anurai. He broke my heart, but he was right. I'm not. I'm rekom—a Deathwalker. My sister is Seezay, and my place is with her. I will let her woes be my woes, and we will share them together wherever we go. But that future does not include you or Father. How can I have a place with you if you think me a traitor? You are not my sister anymore."|

"Säro!"

It was too late; she was already turning on her feet, and her heart was far away; it was no longer connected to anything in that tent. |"Eywa be with you."|

She exited, and after her presence was gone did Zwefnawo turn to his other side to see the empty entrance and share a look with the remaining Häku.


Outside, in the light, Säro walked with head held high. What would become of her, she didn't know, but she knew she needed to be strong; for the sake of her new family, she had to be.

"Säro?"

She turned around and discovered a young Na'vi man of noble bearing. "Oel ngati kameie." His yellow eyes bowed. |"I am Neteyam te Tskaha Zayksuli'itan. Hello."|

|"I see you. Hello, Neteyam. How do you know my name?"|

|"I learned it from my father, Rider of Last Shadow."| Neteyam first looked around before handing her the tipi bag. |"I found this by the river. Is it yours?"|

Säro's breathing stopped short as she anxiously took back her property.

|"Fear not, my friend. I did not speak its contents to anyone."|

She clutched it to her stomach without realizing what she was doing. "Irayo." She then noticed something black sticking out of his quiver.

He followed her line of sight and pulled out the bat. |"Oh, is this also yours?"|

|"It is something of Seezay's,"| she admitted after taking it back.

|"You are very loyal to your friend."|

|"What does your father mean to do with her?"|

|"Do not worry, Säro. My father is very compassionate. He was also called 'Demon' for being not quite Na'vi, but I know he believes that people are not what they are born as but who they choose to become. He will show mercy to her."|

The woman was relieved; if this Neteyam was any reflection of Toruk Makto, then Seezay was in safe hands. |"I thank you for your understanding, son of Rider of Last Shadow. Would it be okay if I visit Seezay?"|

|"I don't know. Right now, it might be better to wait."|

She was sad at the thought of leaving CJ alone but complied with his wishes.

|"As compensation, is there anything I can do for you and your friend in the meantime?"|

She thought for a moment. |"Yes, if I may trouble you?"|

|"Speak freely."|

|"The ikran we flew here on—I am told the clans wish to make use of the body?"|

|"Yes,"| he sighed with much empathy. |"It is a sorry waste to take its life and not use it to feed the clan."|

|"Seezay was very attached to her ikran. The loss will be hard. Could you—if you can—preserve one of the bones and bring it to me?"|

Familiar with the famous bone crafts of the Anurai, Neteyam was moved by the gesture. |"I will do so."|

|"Thank you."| She bowed.

|"It is nothing. Goodbye, Säro."|


Night was introducing itself when Neytiri stood by with the others on the delta. Many small fires were built to keep the clans warm from the damp terrain and scare away predators, as they had no other barrier to shield them. Orange tongues distorted by smoke danced in the building darkness when Jake returned on his ikran. Neytiri raced to where he landed, for she was concerned by his prolonged absence. |"My Jake! Where have you been?"|

|"Flying near Bridgehead."| He panted. |"The rekom's ikran we shot down?—Its harness allows you to fly through the death plains."|

She backed two steps away from him, shaking her head to dismiss the notion. "Rä'ä si..."

|"Neytiri, I know it's dangerous, but it's the only way. Our daughter needs us."|

How fiercely the mother stood, the firelight catching her swishing tail as she paced before one of the active flames. How heavy her thoughts as she thought over his plan. |"My Jake. You go—and they will recognize you... They will kill you!"|

|"What is our other option?"|

She stood tall and firm with the answer. |"I go dressed as the rekom woman."|

Jake's heart skipped a beat.

|"We share height. We share build. I go disguised as her, and we have a better chance of finding our daughter."|

|"I'm not risking you!"|

|"Our clan needs Rider of Last Shadow. You can spare me."|

|"No, I can't! You're my mate, Neytiri!"|

|"And I'm Kiri's mother!"| Neytiri gripped his arms so tightly that it ceased blood flow. |"You cannot argue the wisdom of this plan. You know our chances are better if I go."| Her tone lowered to utter, |"And you've trained me for this day."|

Jake was swallowing while staring into her determined eyes, trying to find any other way, but none presented itself. He petted her face, brushing back her braids so nothing obscured his view. |"I can't lose you..."|

Neytiri savoured the press of his palm and inhaled fully before opening her eyes to say, "Strong heart."

Those two words impelled Jake to pull her in, shaking as he clutched her whole being. Then, moving to hold her at a distance, ran his fingers up her arms, pressing each section with a reassuring squeeze while his conflicted head shimmied in pain.

|"We cannot waste time, my love."|

"Dammit, Sheila..." To win this game of chess, they had to risk the queen. Reluctantly, the olo'eyktan nodded his approval.

Neytiri and her entourage entered the prisoner's overhang, where she stared down the demon in study, then, once she was satisfied, moved swiftly to strip the rekom of all gear. Neytiri carried the disguise to her tent and began the transformation. She shaved off her elaborate braids to mimic the mohawk, then when that was finished, donned the camouflage pants and grey tank all before putting on the tactical vest that displayed the Deja Blu patch, soiled with blood. Lastly, with the assistance of other women, paint was mixed, and CJ's gallery of tattoos were replicated on the warrior princess.

When Neteyam saw his mother exiting the tent, he flinched. "Ma Sa'nok!"

|"Where is your father?"|

|"H-He went to pray at the Tree of Souls."|

Neytiri was comforted to know that in this time of crisis, he had not forgotten his duty to Her.


Once again, Toruk Makto found himself supplicating before Eywa on her arboreous arms. Remembering that night, his eyes trailed up to the branch where he had spotted his daughter sleeping, and as he lingered on the memory, it dawned on him that he was here again for the same reason. He surrendered his queue.


Heavenly warm light invited a set of eyes to open, and the owner gaped at his surroundings. The last place Jake expected to find himself was inside Hometree. He looked around, admiring the towering roots that were like flying buttresses supporting a grand cathedral. It was neither day nor night but lit by an ethereal glow. Standing before him, with his back turned, was a noble figure adorned in the same feather mantle he now wore.

"Eytukan?"

Jake's father-in-law turned around. "I see you, my son," he stated firmly; his countenance was old but strong. "Why are you troubled?"

He approached him with veneration and knelt before Eytukan like a knight before his lord. "I need help, sir. I don't know what to do. The Skypeople have kidnapped my daughter. And now my wife is going to infiltrate their camp with no guarantee of getting her back. How can I only sit around and wait? Father, I can't do that. I have to do something, but I don't know what."

"Come, come. Rise, my son."

The man obeyed.

"Now, look down upon your person. What do you see?"

"My loincloth?"

Eytukan made a sound that told Jake to look again.

He sighed, looking at the second option. "You mean my mantle?"

The former leader, annoyed with his obtuseness, whisked his fingers across Jake's cumberbund.

"My ta'lan?"

"Why do you wear it?"

"Because...I am Omatikaya?"

"Why do you phrase it like a question, my son? You are Omatikaya. And Omatikaya are strong. Omatikaya do not give over to fear! Even while sitting, we are intimidating! How I squat could scare a Skyperson! Because my strength is here." The elder pointed to the centre of his breast. "You measure strength too much in actions, not enough in inaction—not in the waiting and seeing and trusting that Eywa is watching over you."

"So, are you saying this is all the will of Eywa?"

"Even Hometree's falling is woven into Her work. Think bigger."

Jake resorted to motioning his helpless arms away from his sides. "But I don't understand what I could do. I'm just one man."

A new voice entered the scene, a bit haughty but completely genuine. "Look at this little warrior. Is he really Toruk Makto?"

"Tsu'tey?"

There he was, with his half-shaved head and braided hair—his mien of ferocity and charm. "You wear my collar," the proud warrior noticed, running a finger down one tooth of the ebony trio. "I was attacked by an ikran who wanted my kill, and with only my blade, I defeated the creature." The mighty bellow of that very ikran sounded within Hometree and echoed away. "My olo'eyktan," Tsu'tey spoke to Eytukan. "How old was I then?"

"You were half the size you are now. Not even a man yet."

His large lips arched up in that smile Jake could never forget. "And I still won. But fighting a beast is easy." His voice fell. "Losing a woman you love is hard..." Jake said nothing and thought of Sylwanin, the sister he never got to meet. "Before a warrior can lay down his own life, he must lay all his loved ones before our Great Mother. They do not belong to us. They only come and go."

"He is right, my son. We were both prepared before our lives finished. You must do the same."

"I have to let go of them?" he exclaimed. The visions stared at him with a pained silence. "Am I to surrender all my family?!" his protest repeated throughout the spectral image of Hometree. Then, over the words, his voice came back to him, but it was not an echo of his cry; instead, it was his prayer—thanking Eywa for all that She had given him. The man shut his eyes, and that same peace from before descended upon him. The avatar, blessed with an impossible life, took those halcyon days he coveted and finally surrendered them just as Norman did. "I had my years..." Jake hushed with a smile.

Eytukan placed his hands on the warrior's shoulders, and then Tsu'tey did the same.

"Do not be afraid," his brother's voice echoed. "I will fly with you."

More and more hands linked to Jake as every image of those who came and went manifested in that eternal Hometree, lending their spirits to the converted alien, who was not alien at all but family.

As Jake awed at all the faces, he saw one that made his eyes go wide and mouth fall open, "Grace?" The tear-stained smile he thought he recognized was only witnessed for a second before his soul lifted above the convocation.


Gasping, Toruk Makto was returned to his world. After steadying his mind and heart, he gazed at a bloom of atokirina' and shut his eyes. He felt clean—his whole body felt clean, like his very soul had been blessed. Was that Grace he witnessed? Was it her he saw, or—? Jake didn't know, but it was enough for him.


The watchmen standing guard around the delta caught sight of their approaching olo'eyktan coming in on his ikran.

Neteyam rushed towards him. "You're finally back!"

"Where is your mother?"

"She is—"

Jake suddenly shoved Neteyam to the ground, took out his rifle and protected his son from the escaping recombinant.

"Ma Jake!" Neytiri raised her hands. |"It is me!"|

"Neytiri?!" He shut his mouth and swallowed the shock. "Sorry, I forgot you, uh..." Scanning the sight before him, his roaming eyes caught the casualty face-planted in the muck and realized he should probably help him up.

|"You see, Mother?"| Neteyam took the offered hand and wiped his face. |"I told you he wouldn't recognize you."|

Jake rubbed his son's head in apology. "You're even wearing her pistol," he noticed, nudging a finger at the holster. "You know how to use one?"

"It is a stupid weapon," she hissed, drawing it out. "I do the 'click, click,' and it does nothing!"

"Let me see that." He took the Wolf pistol and inspected it. "You have it on 'safety'... If you want to fire it, you have to pull this first." He then demonstrated what to do before switching it back. "But leave it like this until you're ready to fire. Hopefully, you won't. Now, from the looks of it, this magazine only has eight more rounds—that's how many times you can shoot before it's blank. Got that?"

"A bow is easier..." she grumbled as she returned the pistol to its holster.

"Now, these are grenades," he said, pointing to her belt. "To use one of these, you have to lift up this pin, then throw. All hell will break loose."

"It will explode?"

"Kxangangang," Neteyam added for fun.

"What he said. Try not to use these if you don't have to. God, I really hope you won't have to. As for the communicator, I'll link this one to ours so you can hear me. And Neytiri?"

"Lì'upe?"

"If you see Quaritch, do not engage. Just run. Find Kiri and get out."

|"But, Jake, what if he knows where she is?"|

|"It's too dangerous for you to take him on. You can't risk him seeing you."|

|"I already killed him once before,"| she boasted. |"I am not afraid."|

|"Please, listen to me, Neytiri. Compared with our daughter, he's not the priority here."|

She snarled at him. |"What is this? First, our son. Now, you? Why are the men of my family reluctant to take that monster's life? Jake. I will do what I must. Do we agree to that?"|

|"Just don't overdo it."|

She gave him a very incredulous wobble of her head.

"What?" he uttered in defence.

"I think she refers to the toruk, Father."

"Hey, hey, hey. That actually worked." He cleared his throat. "Anyway. As for us, I'll gather a tsampong (war party), and we'll wait for you outside the border. If anyone tries pursuing you once you're out, we'll be ready for them."

[Toliman]

Nice  

[JforA]

Chapter 52 Breach
It was the witching hour. Polyphemus had cloaked himself in gathering clouds, but his halo was still visible through the diffusing gauze. Many Na'vi collected on the outskirts of the kill zone. They stood like specks in their enemy's presence, but the dauntless warriors were unphased as they brooded over the city that never sleeps. The Sully family walked to the very edge of the scorched earth. All throughout the flight, Jake was wrestling with apprehension about sending his mate into the lion's den. Now, here they were, at the point of no return. |"You ready?"|

She lowered and raised her head.

Neteyam clasped his mother's arm. |"Eywa be with you, Mother."|

She could not keep her face as the stone; the mother pulled her last remaining child into her before her heart could tear any further. The father came in and set his arms around both, and the dwindling family embraced one another like tomorrow would never come. Whether a decade or a century, the three knew they were blessed to have even one second.

"Get our girl back, Sheila."

Neytiri had her infusion of courage. Ready, she mounted her ikran, lowered her visor, and shouted, "Sivako!"

"Sivako!" Jake and Neteyam rallied with fists in the air, and the accompanying party did the same.

The mother of unwavering spirit soared for the beast to pry out her young from its jaws. Though fate was uncertain, the Na'vi woman trusted in this: her family made against all odds was also strong enough to withstand them.

Spoiler

Secure in Bridgehead's control tower, a beep notified an employee of a mass, two and a quarter miles out, forming in the southwest section. Concerned, he waved over his superior and showed him the readings. They checked security cameras and zoomed in on the party of three hundred Na'vi warriors.

"Do we do something?" the subordinate asked.

"Oh, sure. Maximum threat. Set off the alarms. Code red. Code red," the boss laughed, slapping the chair rest.

"What are they doing?" chuckled another. "Holding a siege?"

Others joined in on the joke, but the man who first spotted them was not at ease. "But why would they gather unless they're planning something?"

"What are they going to do? Raid us? Great, the kill zone can deal with all of them at once."

"But we already had that attack a few hours ago. Shouldn't we at least be concerned?"

"Don't worry about it," he chuffed, then, turning irritable, looked to his left. "Hell, Claire, call the repair crew and get that thing fixed already."

"Sorry, sir. It's those stupid recom banshees. They keep flying around the wall and setting off the instruments."

"Thought those things were trained..." The boss switched back to his worried employee, patting the shoulder. "Keep us updated if the noble savages try getting through. That should be fun to watch."

"Yes, sir..."


Meanwhile, Neytiri landed on the gargantuan wall. Dark was that particular night as she eyed the glinting city beyond. For the first time in her life, the Na'vi princess had a full view of the kind of world her husband escaped from. The deadness, the false light, the miles and miles of spiritless terrain—it was truly a nightmare. She was distracted by a banshee shriek to her right and noted the restless flock of militarised ikrans only a few meters away.

"Neytiri, do you copy?"

|"I am here, Jake. I am on the wall. The demons' ikrans are also here. They are very agitated."|


  |"By you?"|


|"I do not think so. Something scares them."|

Glorious crawled over the turrets and roared at Neytiri. The princess pivoted her ikran and bared Snatanhì's teeth to warn the matriarch back when a boom in the distance distracted them both. Then, emitting from the city rose a drone of sirens. Glorious forgot all about Neytiri and hissed a command at her flock, leading them off into the night. Neytiri turned her head towards the source of the boom and espied, over the waters, a brief flash of pink light—a plasma storm was manifesting. Undaunted by both warnings, Neytiri braved onward.


A few scientists who chose to burn the midnight oil paced about their underwater laboratory in apprehension. Though they were perfectly safe beneath the waves, the plasma storm above still caused dread, for it was, after all, one of the most deadly events to occur on Pandora. One man, however, was completely unbothered, and that was Ian Gavin. Staring into the foggy abyss, he saw the giant blur that was Bloop, outlined by his constellations. His aquatic song was reaching into the lab, and it was unlike any of the ones Ian had heard so far—coarse, not serene, loud and abrupt; it made Ian's heart palpitate and caused horripilation on his arm. Gavin observed his overwhelming desire to run away with pragmatic interest and suspected it was not the reported storm that was causing his co-workers' agitation. He carried on with studying his marine friend when his full attention was seized and had to shift his glasses up and down to rule out any possibility of a mistake—but it was no mistake; Bloop's biolumen lines were, in fact, flickering, and if the scientist wasn't so engrossed with the phenomenon, he would've also noticed the overhead lights, rising and falling under the same hypnosis.


Deeper beneath Gavin, in a laboratory where AMP suits were stored, a very tired Max was slapping himself constantly to stay awake.

"Tired eyes make for lazy work, Maxwell. If you are not able to keep up with my pace—"

"I'll be okay, Mr. Kilkiri," he insisted, his reply morphing into a yawn.

The disappointed African man arched his body away from the technician. "It seems you have a long way to go to reach my level. Come with me. You need rest."

Max was compelled away from the workbench by the dark hands clasping his shoulders. He staggered before his superior. "I'm sorry, it's just— I guess I've always been stubborn when it comes to pulling away from work."

"The nature of my children's paralyzing song."

As they headed away, the workshop inexplicably dimmed, and their shadows began rotating around their feet.

"Something wrong with the power?" Max observed.


Neytiri was soaring high over the city when she heard the unnatural wails beginning to shift; the unbroken moan started fluctuating like the world itself was breathing. As the haunting choir sang its sickly melody, the rider discovered the city lights were in compliment: they were not flickering sporadically but methodically, all across the land. Whether building or vehicle or ship on the water, anything that emitted light succumbed to the effect. Excited, Neytiri followed the luminary ripple towards the epicentre where the rings were cinching.

Meanwhile, Jake stood with his men by the kill zone, discomforted by the pall he spotted beyond. He worked his throat mic, |"Neytiri, there's a storm developing over the ocean, and it's dangerously close. We can't stay here long."|


  |"Jake! Something is happening in the land!"|


|"What do you mean?"|


  |"It beats! It beats with Eywa! She is showing me the way!"|


|"Neytiri, what are you talking about?"|

He received no answer.


As Ian let his hands remain on the panel, he noticed Bloop was acting strangely: the crest bucked, the fins shook, the whole body turned as the marine giant began swishing in the water like he was under attack. Gavin was worried. "What's going on, Bloop?" Then, without warning, the captive of Bridgehead orientated himself for the windows. The water Titan let loose his mastodonic jaw, and a seismic assault was unleashed upon the base. Scientists doubled over, squeezing their aching ears, but Ian returned his eyes to Bloop, whose murky silhouette was rapidly growing larger. Gavin took a step back, then another, and another until he fell over the person behind him. He scrambled back up and ran for the fire alarm. "Everyone get—" The windows were struck. Over eight hundred tons of muscle rammed against their acrylic bulwark, jostling beams and sending jets into Hades. Within seconds, the scientists were drenched by the stinging seawater. "Don't let any get in your mouth!" Ian shouted, his throat already burning from the native astringent chemicals. For a brief moment, as he helped a fallen man, he caught Bloop hovering by the window, seemingly watching the people as they escaped. He was too busy to think it then, but when Gavin later reflected on the event, he wondered why Bloop had ceased after only one hit.


Every level of Hades panicked with alarms, including one particularly sensitive den. Fahid turned pale with fear. "The area has been breached! Everyone to the emergency elevators! Go, Max! Go!" He grabbed the Indian man and thrust him towards the fleeing others.

"What about you?" Max cried.

"I will be joining you! Go!" Fahid disappeared, and Max rushed to keep up with the evacuation.

Kilkiri threw his body against his office door as he forced it open and stumbled for his desk, where he madly gathered his files, speeding for every invaluable piece of research like it were his young. He stepped out of his office when, just then, the lights went out, and Kilkiri was in total darkness. For a moment, he remained blind, then the lights were restored, but not the white overheads of before; instead, all was bathed in hellish red.


Neytiri followed the beating trail to a cape that marked the end of the marina. Only here, in the unusable rocky terrain, did the city allow greenery to exist, if it counted as greenery. The tough flora was rubbery and travelled over the surface before growing up into perforated trunks, fanning out into serrated leaves. The flora's bioluminescence also pulsated, and the desperate mother leapt from her ikran and chased the energy wave through the coastal forest when, unexpectedly, all the lights went static. She stumbled forward and gasped, clutching the trees that no longer guided her way. The mother moaned wretchedly; she had not found her daughter, and her one clue had come to an end. With the city utterly silent, all she heard were the waters crashing against the cliff face and the storm continuing to brew in the distance.

[Toliman]

Txantsan   

[JforA]

Chapter 53 Rush
Waves crashed upon a rock with the rhythm of a heartbeat, seemingly doing nothing to the impervious surface, but in fact, the patient sea was in the long process of carving. In time, the sharp edges would be round, and the coarse surface made smooth. Years upon years, the waters would have its way and reshape the old into something new.

Quaritch awoke from his dream feeling better than he ever did. His stress not only melted away in his nap, but he felt restored of all vitality like his body had been left to soak in a hot spring. It was nice, he thought, but his cogitations were interrupted when he took note of the subtle hum that vacillated in strength like the above lights. Quaritch observed the phenomenon, thinking the electricals were going "screwy," but then he noticed his bioluminescence—it was doing the same thing. He held out his arm for study. The optical effect appeared like waves were rolling across his forearm towards his chest, as stripping his shirt soon revealed. When he tracked the luminous rings closing in on his most vital organ, the unsettled man reacted by hastily redonning his tank. Quaritch sought to get to the bottom of the mystery. He stood in silence to trace the source. After discovering the hum was coming through the very wall he had been resting against, he set his ear upon it, but all he could discern was the creaking of metal—then his fingers began drumming on their own accord. Immediately, the Marine retracted. The wall was succumbing to some unseen force that warped and rattled the bulwark like foil. Quaritch shuffled so far back, with arms guarding his face in preparation for whatever might come bursting through, that he hit the opposite end. With nowhere to retreat and disaster imminent, the prisoner made himself small in preparation. In his scrunched position, he grabbed his head when the undulating infrastructure gave way in a plangent nightmare.

Only when the last clang reverberated into nothingness and the dominant electric hum reigned again did Quaritch unfold. Now, before him, was a gaping rupture, blown inward and revealing the contents of another cell. It was a sight that held him frozen. Glowing inside was a sphere of blue distortion, rippling with light. He squinted his eyes and detected a form at its center.

"What...the...hell...?"

Spoiler

Intrigue beckoned him closer to the Kiri girl, meditating like Buddha and thrumming her songcord—an action that seemed mechanical, as if her body was left on autopilot while she went off to dream. Around her, floating over the surface of the sphere, were objects of various shape and size. He leaned forward, squinting hard at the weightless wonders, which turned out to be captured bits of metal debris. Suddenly, an invisible hand snatched something around his neck and yanked. He was slammed against what remained of his wall, fingers gripping and dragging over serrated metal as he fought the pull. The culprit emerged from his shirt—his dog tags. The whole beaded chain was suspended in animation and taut in her direction. He growled from sheer pain and threw his head down last minute, letting the necklace slip off his head before it could decapitate him. It instantly flew towards her, where it was captured by the orb and lulled into a relaxed swim.

Quaritch slumped down behind the jagged crescent of his former wall. He went to work stripping himself of anything metal: his watch, his belt, even his boots—just to be safe. Down to his shirt and pants, he remerged before the sphinx with deliberation. He assessed the phenomena with staunch practicality: her forcefield was compromising the structure's integrity. Even if she had the potential god powers to atomize him, Quaritch had to get her to stop somehow. He tried shouting—no effect; it was like she was shut off from the world. By fate's cruel irony, he had to do the last thing that he wanted: get closer. He arched a leg over the rubble and let his bare toe connect with the ground—a surge of power rushed through him. He frantically slapped and stroked his arm until the sensation dissipated. Quaritch cupped his maw and pinched his lips in thought—another foreboding rumble; he had no time to hesitate. He bent low, ignoring the consequences, and proceeded, ever cautiously, to side-crawl towards the conjurer, ducking his head to avoid the speeding shrapnel careening for the sphere—little bits, here and there, streaking his skin as they ricocheted off his arm but found home again in her orbit. His foot slid onto the next tile, and the sphere reacted to his presence with a defence of a brighter light. Miles winced from the intensity of her aura—an aura so puissant it disturbed his innermost being and awoke the deepest fears inside his breast. Every memory, every emotion, every aspect of his character—all his impurities were stirred up and swirling around in the well of his soul, making him nauseous, yet he was compelled forward.

He was now as close as he could bring himself. Hesitantly, he moved his hand to reach her, but the sphere violently repelled his attempt. He clutched his wrist in pain, for her halo burned an icy hot. The ominous, alarming sounds of creaking only grew worse. The light became hotter and brighter. Then, the final nail in the coffin: a seam in the floor manifested. Thousands of metal shards shot out from the rupture and hovered in mid-air, completely still, like the pause button had been hit on an earthquake, but the play button would be hit with vengeance.

Everything went dark as Kiri was suddenly awoken to the ground giving way beneath her. By a force stronger than the pull on his ID tags, something possessed Quaritch's body and threw him forward to snatch her wrist. Gut instinct? Knee-jerk reaction? Divine intervention? All the colonel knew was he was now holding onto an adolescent Na'vi as she dangled over an abyss.

Kiri gaped up at her rescuer.

A panel previously propped against the sphere had fallen across the narrow chasm, preventing Quaritch from proceeding, so with his other arm and a loud grunt, he shoved aside the four-hundred-pound slab to bring up the feathery-light girl.

Kiri staggered across the surface after being thrust from Quaritch's abrupt release. She came to a wobbly stand, still shocked that he was even in there with her, to say nothing of the cataclysmic state of her now dark cell. She felt the draft from the ruptured wall that she stood next to as Vrrtepeyktan came to his feet in the back corner in what was left of the floor.

The colonel had to give himself a moment to return to his senses, for his mind was everywhere and his heart, very unsteady. He felt her eyes on him; he didn't look up; instead, he rubbed his temple as if he was trying to find some proverbial button and reset his directive: escape the cellblocks. Opposite of him was the sliding door of her cell, warped and slanted from the damage with the possibility of it being pried open; the only problem was accessing it. The ravine now barred half the room, and the girl was standing in his way. He started pacing in his corner, the result of him trying to brainstorm and doing everything in his mental power to block out his new cellmate.

Kiri observed his circling with a curious stare. Here was the Chief of Demons—the legendary enemy of the Omatikaya—purposely ignoring her and keeping his distance. For some reason, his whole body language spoke avoidance. Could it be? Could it be that Vrrtepeyktan was afraid of her? The animal whisperer had to test this hypothesis. When he made his first attempt to pass, she stepped directly in front of him. The large, muscular man doubled back. A few seconds later, he tried again, this time moving to his left, so she did the same. Again, the threat retreated—Kiri couldn't believe it.

Quaritch stopped when he realized this wasn't working. With a sudden burst of determination, he swivelled to face her, only to throw down his hand in helpless frustration and pace again. He thought maybe he could muster himself to just shove her aside, but every time he was one step before her, there he was, pivoting on his heel—he wanted to scream. What was going on with him?

Kiri picked up on his rising anger. She was playing a dangerous game and knew it. The vicious enemy rolled to his full height. His expression contorted, and, hurling his fist, unleashed a roar. She shut her eyes and did not flinch as a cacophonous "boom" shook the small space. When her lids raised, she beheld his sinister form, looming an inch above her, with his fist deep in the wall. In the lull of his heavy breathing, he dared challenge her with eye contact, which he quickly regretted. Instantly, Kiri was charging at him with a roar of her own, and he slammed against his confines with a start. The Marine, completely humiliated, blinked in succession at the impudent girl now laughing at him.

Dominance had been established.

"What the hell are you?!" he shouted, hands still clutching the back wall.

With a mischievousness that all teenagers express when they realize they have the reins, Kiri gave him the most conceited pout as she tapped two fingers to her lips.

"You're mute?"

She twitched a shoulder.

"Right. I forgot," he said, slacking his arms. He kept looking at her to a minimum as the atheist was finally acknowledging that some sort of bewitchment was being done. No matter how much he may have wanted to punt her into the ravine, there was no possible way he could bring up his boot. She had him muzzled. "Is this some kind of mind control? Is that it?" he asked at an angle that was semi-facing away.

What is he talking about?

"How are you doing this?"

Doing what?

The two were at a stalemate. What was the point of questions if she couldn't talk? Quaritch was back to pacing and aggressively running his hands through his chopped hair. Catching her break out into a giggle only flustered the colonel even more. "Oh, you think it's funny, is that it?"

She nodded with smug satisfaction.

"Glad you find it hilarious! Ngh! Magic my ass... Must be this damn chimaera brain. It's reacting to Pandora. Some kind of effec—" He froze, then backed away like he had seen a ghost. "Son of a b****..." he whispered. He turned away to palm the wall while his other rested off his hip. Going forward, Quaritch knew he had to get through this despite his compromised state. "Okay... fairy, listen up! We need to get out, so let me pass."

Kiri wasn't having it.

"You're gonna keep me cornered?!"

She shrugged her "Maybe."

"You little s***!"

Oh, that'll work. Definitely. Her head bobbled.

Quaritch went white when a rumbling drone infiltrated their cell. Bubbling up from the rupture rose a dark pool. His wild eyes beseeched hers. "Let me pass!"

The maiden still kept her arms folded.

"You bats*** son of a b****—the cell's flooding!"

Her head leaned in, and she cocked a brow.

"You—! Damn, bloody..." His eyes were bloodshot, and the water was rising fast. With each second passing, he lost valuable time to find his team. He threw his hands up. "Please!"

She politely stepped aside.

Quaritch had to recover from that one. The moment he finally scooted past her, he sped for the slanted acrylic door, trying to see if the gap was wide enough to shimmy through, but it was barely big enough for his arms. He thrust his shoulder against the sheet, but it wouldn't budge. As Kiri watched his struggle, she shifted her attention to the hole between their cells. Meanwhile, Quaritch clutched the top rim of the frame and did a pull-up to throw a kick—still no effect. After several useless attempts, his feet splashed down into the swirling water when he noticed Kiri standing outside in the hall.

"How did—"

The impish teenager twiddled her fingers, then thumbed over to his cell. He scrambled through the torn wall, leaping the rubble, where he saw his perfectly intact door, slid all the way open. He nudged it a few times before his chimaera brain understood it was due to the power outage. Quaritch slapped himself, then marched right out, feeling like a complete jackass.

As the recombinant leader was quick to get a move on, Kiri tailed him, breaking into skips to keep up with his hurried strides.

Miles kept turning dark corners in search of his team. He stopped to give himself time to take mental notes of his location, growing worried as the threat of flooding water intensified. "Where are they?" he asked himself.

Is he trying to find the others? I know where they are! But...it's...Vrrtepeyktan...

Quaritch looked over his shoulder, and Kiri chanced to see the concern in his eyes. He briefly stared at her like he was mentally battling the thought of asking for help. Without prompt, she recalled the Anurai friendship necklace and the effort made to stop her from being taken away. Kiri weighed those images against the scene at the Tawkami village. A moral battle waged within her until she remembered her training. The cycle of life was made up of all things—dangerous and docile, insightful and blind. Whether the rekoms deserved help or not didn't factor; what mattered was who she would choose to be, and her decision was to be like her Great Mother, who did not pick sides.

Quaritch's distracted hand was tapped, and he pivoted only to see the girl waving at him to follow. He wasn't sure what she was doing but allowed her to take the lead, chasing after a faint hope that somehow, in her strange way, she sensed where they were—he wasn't about to put it past her.

Kiri weaved the network of wet halls, skirting corners until she found a set of stairs leading to a lower level. Down the narrow space, the roar of gushing water reverberated all around them.

"Are they down there?" he shouted over the turbulence. His guide trembled her head and beckoned him to trail after. He jumped the tiny human steps but lost his footing and slid, splashing against the wall. When they reached ground level, little streams cascaded from the ceiling and fell upon them.

"Which way?" he shouted, whisking off droplets from his drenched scalp.

Kiri swung her head, but it was difficult to tell one section from the next. She held up two index fingers and divided them, pointing her left hand down one hall and her right down another.

"You want to split up? How will I know if you find them?"

Thinking on her toes, Kiri brought up her clay whistle and blew with all her strength.

He was as surprised by the shrill as she was, evident by the way she briefly studied her little instrument. "Alright then." Obeying the order, Quaritch set down the directed hall, kicking up sprays as he hunted for his team. His search brought him into a wide bay, utterly black, but his night vision pierced the shadows, where he deduced the outlines of something familiar. An oppressive emotion assailed the man as he stood in silence before two AMP suits; he was only allowed a respite from the bitter memory that came to resurface. His darkening mind merged with the room when a faint whistle made his ears swivel. Quaritch doubled back with fervour. He ploughed the waters, desperately chasing the girl's signal until, at last, he found her stationed next to a chamber.

He jogged to a stop before a sealed transparent door, where, swirling around on the other side was his team, barely visible in the dark water. Their cell had been breached, and a waterfall was coming in through the rupture. He rammed his fingers into the door's frame, but the pressure was so strong he could not break the seal; he needed a tool. He assessed the hall, trying to find something he could use, but nothing came to him. Quaritch pounded the glass in anger and surveyed his surroundings once more—that's when he saw the girl and her appropriately-sized build. His eyes alternated between her and the direction he had just come. "I have an idea..." he breathed. Throwing out his fears, he set his crouched back to her and thumbed his intent. "Get on!"

Surprised and disgusted, Kiri instinctively took a step opposite.

"Please," he begged.

Kiri reluctantly complied. I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm doing this.

The commander jerked up to settle her position, then signed "One minute" to his team to reassure them, even if they couldn't see it, before making haste.

The water was up to his hip as Quaritch waded through the deluge, fighting with each laboured stride to reach the bay. Jostling on his back, Kiri had to routinely wipe away her soaking bangs and clear her eyes, but on the last wipe, she thought her vision was playing tricks on her. Were those yokxtìranyu she saw?

With the girl still clung to him like a rucksack, Miles leapt onto the leg of the four-metre-tall AMP suit, balanced on the hip joint and raised the cockpit window. He plopped his passenger into the small cavity, directing her to set her feet into the straps below. She was still gaping at him as he fished up the operator's gloves and placed them on her hands; it was a very tight fit, but she had the correct amount of fingers. From there, he hit the emergency button that jettisoned the useless window. With more room to operate, he leaned in and activated the interface. His fingers flew deftly over the controls, a setup he knew better than the back of his own hand. Once it was calibrated, he flipped a switch and a roar of flames issued from the rear thrusters. He couldn't help but savour the nostalgic scent. "Good stuff. Okay, kid, listen up."

Kiri winced at him.

"This, here, is your stabilizer. That will right your position, but pay attention if it goes yellow. Now, your controls are here." He gripped her glove. "Try taking a swing."

She kept staring at him dumbly.

"Well, go on. Take a swing!"

Without any idea what she was doing, she threw out her arm, and suddenly the whole machine lurched forward. Kiri gasped at the crater she had formed on the opposite wall. The move trapped Quaritch against the cockpit, and he had to pry himself free. "Okay..." he wheezed, climbing to the safety of the backrest. "Just do exactly what I tell you. This here's a very dangerous piece of machinery, so don't—hngh!"

Kiri attempted walking forward, but it was more like a drunk stumbling through the dark. Her metal palms kept streaking against walls as the great suit plodded down the hall. It staggered from side to side, each time with a towering slosh until nothing in the cabin was dry. Quaritch's tail flailed, and his knuckles paled as he struggled with every muscle to hold on.

Up ahead, in the almost full chamber, the recombinants had only an inch to breathe. They were gasping and losing hope, with their eyes already exchanging their final goodbyes.

"I hear something!" Prager announced.

"I hear it too."


"Is it an earthquake?"

A terrible boom dithered the water and smacked every head against the ceiling.

"You missed!" Quaritch shouted. "Pull back more!"

I'm trying, you big, stupid jerk! Kiri snarled and pried her hand out of the wall. She readied her next swing when her control was seized. Hey!

Quaritch clutched Kiri's fist, much to her annoyance, and with tongue between his teeth, positioned the AMP's suit arm exactly where he wanted; he couldn't chance another miss and thrust it forward. The five-fingered wreaking ball smote the acrylic door, leaving the releasing water pressure to do the rest. The whole cell burst open from the torrent, dragging with it all its captives. Eager to see if they were okay, Quaritch quickly shut down the walking powerhouse as a precaution, then leapt off.

"Well, don't y'all look like a bunch of drowned rats."

The heads spun and beheld their colonel with amazement.

Mansk sloshed over with arms out. "I love you, sir." Quaritch blinked as he reciprocated the man-hug.

"You saved us just in the nick of time."

"I think he could've done it a bit sooner."

Quaritch scanned the relieved faces when he noticed, in the back, Fike helping someone up. With a stupified look, he nudged the others aside till he stood directly before Lyle. In lieu of words, he laughed and set his arms around him. He then shook the idiot's shoulders. "Shoulda known better than to think they could've killed you!"

"Would've just been recombinated all over again, sir."

"Shut your mouth." He peered down at the shirt wrapped across his chest, serving as a bandage. "So, how did—?"

"It was the girl."

Quaritch removed his hands. "Excuse me?" He tried to smile, but it was growing unsettled.

"I don't know, either, but she was in our cell, and I... I don't know. I just felt this need to reach out. I ended up grabbing her ankle, and I felt something, you know?"

As Kiri listened to the man's testimony, she stared at her palms.

Quaritch nodded incredulously and patted the addled head. "Think you took a bit more than just external damage there, son."

"No!" Lyle pulled back and pointed a finger at Brown. "You saw it. You told me, yourself, my bleeding stopped. Tell him," he demanded.

"His bleeding did stop, sir. But I doubt the girl had anything to do with it. I— I don't see how." He gave his honest opinion but found, as his eyes trailed back to Lyle, they retreated in shame.

"I'm telling you it was her," he insisted. "I know it sounds crazy, but I swear that girl is why I'm still standin'."

Quaritch knew very well there was something different about her—he bore witness to it—but the idea of testifying put him at risk of sounding like a madman too. He had his role—as a level-headed commander—to think about. "Okay, Lyle, okay. What are you fixin' to do then?"

"We have to find her! I can't just leave her after she saved my life. But I don't know where they took her."

"Taken care of." He tossed a thumb.

Kiri had already released herself from the harness and was climbing down when Walker waded over to help. "Hey," Bridgette tapped the girl's ankle to get her attention. "Climb onto my shoulders. I'll carry ya." Kiri smiled and took the offer.

"You already saved her?" Sean asked incredulously.

"I didn't save her! She followed me."

"They moved her to your cell?"

"No! For some reason, she was in the one next to mine."

"Then, why did you let her out?"

Booming moans ceased their questions.

"Unless y'all fancy this place for your tomb, cut the chatter and follow me!" With the dire situation taking precedence and their commander speaking sense, the Deja Blu team tailed after their navigator. Quaritch led his squad to the stairwell. Each one, he oversaw up the steps before heading up himself. Back on the level he started from, it was clear the state of the complex was only growing worse with now gallons of water pouring out of the ceiling. Light came only from their own bodies, and the few signs scattered throughout.

"Where now, sir?"

As Quaritch was busy looking around, Walker was buckling from the strengthening undertow and trying to hold up Kiri at the same time. Seeing her struggle, Mansk took over. "Give her to me, Petunia."

"Thanks, Sasha."

Quaritch spotted the outlines of an elevator. "Over there, c'mon." He shoved his fingers in a vertical seam. "We need to wedge it open." Alexander and Warren trudged forward to help. By combining their strength, and with great exertion, they pried back the doors. Lopez's legs ripped out from under him as water rushed to cascade down the empty shaft, but Brown saved him by the hand. Angel hovered over the deep drop, speeding water filling his lungs before Prager moved in and latched on to Brown's waist. Whoever was closest helped pull the train until everyone was back on two feet. Angel bent over to cough, and Walker assisted by giving the man two hearty pats. Quaritch carefully leaned to view the shaft rapidly, filling with tons of water by the second. "We can climb up those girders. Walker, ladies first."

"How gallant," she grumbled as she took his hand. Quaritch helped lift her over to the first section, where she gripped a support.

"Lyle. You're next."

"If it's alright with you, sir, I want to go last."

"No, it's not alright with me. Git!" He rudely snatched Lyle and swung him in. "Okay, Sasha. Come up."

The recombinated man readjusted his hold on his charge, then, minding the torrent, carefully worked past his colonel.

Quaritch had everyone on the move and was the last to climb up, with all the recombinants scaling the precarious chamber to outrace the flood. Trickles raining down on them increased into waterfalls, spurting over the gasping men, determined to escalate while ominous sounds of contorting metal and random booms warned them just how much the underground world was breaking apart.

"Sasha? How's the girl?" Walker called down.

Mansk strained his neck. "You okay, Rybka?" From his peripheral vision, he saw her nod, albeit shaky from chill. "She's okay."

The team kept climbing when Lyle perceived a strange sound and harkened everyone to notice. Over the white noise, the recombinants honed in on a rhythmic echo—deep, haunting and beautiful.

"It's like a choir of angels," murmured Lopez.

"Dosen't sound like anything breaking."

Johnny kept listening. "Wait up. That sounds like a humpback whale."

"How the hell would you know that?"

"I watched a documentary once."

"Holy Christ," groaned Walker. "How far underground are we?"

Kiri was the most enwrapped of all; her eyes focused on nothing as she devoted all her attention to the strangely familiar song. When Mansk lifted himself past another set of sealed doors, Kiri patted his shoulder.

"Huh? What is it?"

"Sasha, why did you stop?" shouted Quaritch from the bottom of the chain.

"It's the girl, sir. She's taken an interest in the door. I think she wants to go through it."

Lyle looked over as well. "Can we open it?"

"Forget it!" Quaritch overruled. "Look how much water's seeping through. It's flooded on the other side."

Mansk had to break it to Kiri. "Sorry, kid. It can't be opened due to the imbalance of pressure. You'd have to wait for this shaft to be submerged."

Quaritch waggled his head.

"Here's one that's open!" Walker announced. It was on the opposite wall with no water descending from it. She lifted herself over the ledge and helped the others up. One by one, the recombinants emerged from the shaft and onto the victory of dry ground. Their commander didn't want to waste time and ordered them all to keep moving, but Kiri was still looking back in the direction of the angelic song that was rapidly growing fainter by the minute. She had to do something. She unlatched herself and sprung off Mansk, pulling up her whistle for a third time. The commotion caused the others to turn around. "Now what?"

Kiri swiftly mimed prying open a door, then fervently pointed to where she meant, to which Lyle translated, "She wants us to go back."

"I don't believe this," grumbled the colonel. "We're wasting time! Get moving!" He was already turning away when Kiri suddenly raced ahead and stood before him with arms out. He stumbled to a stop. "No! You're not doing this again!"

Kiri sneered, stomped her foot, and acted out spastic gesticulations that were all gibberish to the recombinant. Listen to me! We have to go back! There's a way out, just over there! I hear someone, and they're saying they can take us to the surface!

"You damned freak of nature! There's no one back there!"

There is someone back there! Someone who wants to help!

"Look. You want to stay here and die, Augustine Jr? Go ahead! And good riddance." He made to walk past her, but once again, Kiri's sudden block had the colonel stepping back. His whole team was at a loss for words as they watched the inexplicable dance of their powerful leader trying to get around the side-skipping girl.

The colonel straight up bellowed a hideous snarl.

You want your team to die? Turn back and get that door open!

"I'm not opening that damn door! Now, get out of my way!"

"Uh, sir?"

"What?" he barked at Walker.

"Is she... talking to you?" She tapped her temple. "In here...?"

All at once, Quaritch went still. Now, it was he who was reduced to muteness and, with the most bewildered eyes, gaped down at Kiri. She was speaking directly into his mind, not in words he could perceive, but her intentions bypassed all his defences and sounded off in his brain. He never felt so weak nor so foolish. "What did you do to me?" he whispered, subtle hints of fear and rancour dropping in his tone.

Kiri rolled her head in disgust. I've had enough of this. Will you or will you not go back?

"I'm not going back!" he made absolutely clear, recovering from the disturbing reality that she had such power. "I'm not some animal you can command."

Lyle stepped forward. "Are you saying she's controlling you?"

He was flustered. "Absolutely not! I just can't move past her."

"Why not?"

He bunched his lips and moved out his arm. "I don't know. You try doing it!"

Wainfleet assessed her and walked around as easy as pie.

"Oh, sure. Let him pass!"

The medic saw he was needed. "No offence, sir. But you don't sound right... In the head, I mean."

"You lookin' to be reincarnated again, there, Brown?"

The other teammates shuttered their eyes and gave their commander dubious looks. Quaritch could hear their thoughts questioning his sanity. His mad eyes attacked Kiri. "You're doing this on purpose—making my team think I'm going crazy! I'm on to you!"

"I think you better sit down, sir."

Quaritch shoved him back with a reprimand, "You don't talk to your superior in that way!"

"Hold on, Tyler. I don't think he's going crazy." Everyone turned their attention to the corporal. "Look, Bridgehead wanted this girl for a reason, right? Maybe one of her powers is...ESP?"

"So what do we do?" asked Fike.

"I say we...go back and try and open that door."

Quaritch was disgusted. "Are you—? Are you out of your goddamn mind?! You don't go towards the flooding!"

"Look at her! She's insisting on that path for a reason. Correct me if I'm wrong, sir, but I don't think she wants to die either."

Quaritch wasn't looking at Kiri to see the exasperated hand she raised in concurrence to Lyle; he was too busy pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know, Lyle, I've tolerated your little friendship necklace. I've tolerated your Na'vi girlfriend. I've tolerated your sneaking out and making for yourself a blue family. But I've had just about enough. You wanna go and follow a Na'vi girl to certain death? You go right ahead."

"Sir, I—"

"No, no! I get it. I get it... Your loyalty can only go so far. Why listen to reason when your instincts are saying, 'Jump off a cliff'? Go on. We'll just regroup in hell."

Kiri stepped aside, and Quaritch brushed past them all to trek down the dark chambers.

Lyle was anxious and hurriedly said to the others, "Alright, let's move!" before bounding off in the opposite direction. They returned to the opening. Water had already reached floor level and was pooling over. "We go down, get the door open, and see what's on the other side. Okay?"

Kiri was relieved to see this turn of events and slipped into the pool.

"Wainfleet, this is insane," Walker felt the need to say.

"So why are you here?"

"You know the reason," she declared with a smirk, then pushed him aside to take the plunge. Each one did the same till Lyle was the last one standing. He drew in all his breath, then dove for the depths.
 
The swimmers pushed through the murky darkness and reunited with the blocked passage where the ethereal voice was still emanating. Hands were ready to apply as much force as possible, but with the area submerged, as Mansk said, the panels only needed a slight budge before they gave way with ease. The instant a gap emerged, a rush of light illuminated the darkness and danced around them: it was a school of bioluminescent fish. Their six elongated fins swayed in the water like angel hair as they orbited Kiri. The recombinants marvelled at the underwater ballet until the performers flitted off from whence they came, shedding their beacon of light across a sunken laboratory. Kiri was the first to go through and explore the new area. She moved with such grace that her limbs became fins, and her feet united into a tail. She was a fish among fishes, at home in a world where gravity did not have a say and communication transcended speech.

The Marines swam after her, guided by light and inspirited by aria, until Kiri signalled them to stop. The fish swirled in place, and the song of the deep concluded. Then, without warning, came the bass of a tremor, and its rattle agitated the water, ushering in a massive current that twirled and tossed every recombinant. When they righted their positions, the school stretched into a streak of light, shooting for a cluster of stars sparkling in the depths. The constellation animated, and nine pairs of yellow eyes immediately dilated with wonder. Swimming into view came a mighty king, who lowered his ancient crown to the girl; and she, too, bowed her head, in respect to the monarch. Kiri signed to him her appreciation; and, like a drawbridge, his jaw slowly descended open, revealing another cosmos secreted within. Kiri hovered at the living gate, then waved at them to board.

[Toliman]

Nice one  

[JforA]

Chapter 54 Rage
A dingy, vertical tunnel thundered with vile words and the booms of a powerful grip, conquering a ladder, one rung at a time. At random, a balled-up fist hammered the cylindrical container, and the result was near ear-shattering. Wide shoulders wedged past the slime-covered passage till the climber, at last, reached the top. He cleaved the edges and wormed himself from the pipe: the dauntless colonel successfully prying himself out of the bowels of hell.

With a wheeze, a few moans, some gasps and a faint whine, he took in his surroundings by way of one laborious inhale. The air tasted of salt. Following the sounds of angry waters clashing with a stubborn cliff, he saw the peaks of sharp boulders being swallowed by the laps of white caps. Over the battle between water and earth, he heard the might of the air: rolls of thunder unravelling in the distance. It was a relief to finally be free, but he had no victory to revel in; his team was gone—dead—all of them, Samson, Thomas, Bridgette and worst of all, someone he thought who would always have his back. Quaritch rubbed his face and let his hands linger where they were, inwardly screaming at that accursed child of Augustine and, deep down, also hoping she had led them to safety, though in his eyes, they didn't deserve it. He got over feeling sorry for himself and straightened out, ready to make the trek up the steep hillside. Regardless of being deserted, the tough Marine would carry on. In the end, he was Miles Stephen Quaritch, a man who would never resign. After all, there was still one standing recombinant unaccounted for—he just needed to find her.

The violent sky cracked as he scaled the rough surface. Grunting in the try, he lifted his body over an edge and jogged up a forested hill. He stopped and leaned against a tree to rest when he espied a figure. He lurched back in disbelief; it couldn't be—but it was!

"Casey?"

Spoiler

Slowly, the figure turned around, her form and mohawk outlined by the pink flashes beyond. He stepped towards her in relief as she came running down to him.

"Call your banshee. We gotta get—"

He was tackled full on, rolling down the terrain until the momentum came to a harsh stop, an RDA knife digging into his neck, a crack of thunder pounding in his ears as Quaritch found himself staring into a pair of sanguineous eyes he had seen once before.

A voice filled with hate erupted, "Where is my daughter?"

He choked as he felt blood trickling down his throat; any deeper, and the blade would puncture his jugular. The encroaching plasma storm raged, and a new streak of lightning illuminated Neytiri. In that brief moment, he saw the Deja Blu patch, blotted in dark crimson stains.

"Where is she!" she had to bellow again, for her victim was struck silent.

His frozen mind began to thaw from the realization that the savage was wearing Casey's skin. His whole face contorted with every negative emotion as he spat out the words, "Dead. Dead at the bottom of the ocean!"

Neytiri's face dropped, and her press on the blade lessened.

"Dead with the rest of my team," Quaritch growled, hoping to cause in Neytiri the same agony he was suffering. "Join them in hell, b****!" Quaritch snatched Neytiri's wrist and punted her off, sending her tumbling down the slope. With lightning-fast reflexes, she snagged a rock, which stopped her descent, then vaulted back for the murderer. Quaritch was weakened, but he expected that he could take on the primitive now that he had her blade. He swung out his arm, but Neytiri disabled his attack by speedily using her clasped hands to thrust down his bicep. Before he could recover, she rocketed several elbow jabs into his face. Disoriented, Quaritch had a split second to gouge Neytiri's eyes, but she blocked his thumbs and grappled with him. Next thing he knew, merciless knee kicks were administered to his groin, then calf. When he found an opening, the desperate man shoved her away and reeled, still processing the fact that Sully's woman was incorporating Krav Maga and that the blade was back in her hand.

Not granting her prey the chance to even breathe, she channelled a palulukan and flew at him with that glinting edge.

The knife swung, and he evaded. Over and under, left and right—Quaritch danced away from her swings, baiting her into an overreach. Wish granted, he intercepted her attack, then rushed to slam her against a trunk. The knife being too quick an end, he used both hands to throttle her, the tight hold activating her throat comm.


The prince eyed the building storm with concern. "It is getting worse," he commented, then returned to the other anomaly—the strangely dark sky haunting Bridgehead. "How come I do not see any lights coming from the city?"

"I don't know," Jake gruffed, too preoccupied with other matters. "Neytiri, do you copy? Neytiri?"

"Nothing yet?"

"She won't answer."

Finally, his earpiece came alive with a voice—but it was not hers.

"What...did you do...to Casey?"

"The same thing—hgn!—I'm going do...to you!"

"Neytiri? Neytiri?" the husband bellowed so loud, it startled the son, but no amount of cries rallied her back. It was useless—she was in his grip, and they were separated by miles of kill zone. The man shut his eyes before casting them to the churning clouds, his braids now blowing with the oncoming gale.

The son beside him read the hard creases and understood without an explanation. The two would have stood there, hands-tied, if it weren't for Eywa preempting Neteyam's prayer. He excitedly nudged the broad, drooping shoulders. "Father? Father!"

"Not now, Neteyam."

"Father, look up!" He shot his finger towards the sky as a high-pitched bellow harkened the entire war party to crane their necks. Screaming from the clouds, a fiery comet fell towards them. When the bale passed overhead, they watched the race of flames coagulate into a dragon, which landed defiantly in the kill zone. Orange wings folded at its side, the toruk turned and bellowed at the hesitators like an irate general commanding them to charge.

"Ma Eywa..." Neteyam hushed.

"It's not being shot..." Jake realized as he removed his shielding arm away from Neteyam. "The kill zone must be out."

"Eywa is showing us the way!"

The father looked to his son, then back to the impossible. He turned to his war party with a rallying tone. |"Our Great Mother is with us. Follow the toruk! We take on the Skypeople!"|

"Ìley! Sivako! Tìterkupìri set lu sìltsana trr!" screamed the ready warriors as they mounted their ikrans. With the fiery legend heading the troops, spears, arrows, teeth and fists making up their brigade—powerful wings, rippling arms, spirits swelling with courage—the people of Pandora charged.
Men in control towers, handicapped by the power outage, viewed the approaching storm from the vantage of their bay windows. A random burst detailed to one eyewitness, a swarm of black dots.

"Hey, guys? What's that over there?"

His co-workers gathered at his desk and squinted at nothing when a sudden bolt made them all aware of the host of banshees screeching past their control tower. Powerless to warn anyone, the crippled watchmen could only spectate the impending invasion.
Quaritch tightened his hands around Neytiri's throat till his hold cracked her mic. As she was on the cusp of dying, she slowly raised her right arm, and he saw, from the corner of his eye, something in her hand—an activated grenade. Eyes widening in fear, he bodily threw her across the grove. Neytiri spun over a rock, and the grenade flew out of her grip and into the bush, violently ripping apart with a deafening boom.

The princess and Marine both staggered; they only saw one another as blurs.

Not wanting to see the gladiators cease, the audience to their battle joined in when Zeus clasped hands with Poseidon. Angry cumulonimbi gathered over the thrashing sea, winds shot waves to the height of towers, and an explosion of plasma rolled across the dome, breaking apart into deadly rivers that ignited the vulnerable canopy. A racing blaze curved around the petrified vegetation, creating an arena of fire. Neytiri wobbled to a stand, squaring off with Quaritch, who watched her image undulate in the heat. Neither would engage until they trumpeted their rage, screams so vicious they snapped the flames. Primed with fury, the forces collided.

Debora enjoyed the light show from the safety of her fortress. Ardmore stepped across the spacious tablinum of the investor's domicile and clicked her heels. "Ma'am, we really must escort you to the shelters."

"The storm is still a long way off, yet," she mused, cocking her head to gaze more upon the unusual night.

"Ma'am, we must move you on. A plasma storm can vaporize these acrylic panels. Please, come with me."

"Oh, General, fear does not suit you."

"I'm not afraid, ma'am. My only concern is for—"

A loud bang knocked both women to the floor. Every fixture in the room rattled as something latched onto the structure. Unholy shrills of frantic clawing on acrylic windows pierced the humans' ears as they tried to recover to a stand. Frances Joan Ardmore was midway through helping the investor up when she beheld the nightmare. The cherubim roared like a lion and reared like a bull. Its wings thrust out like an eagle as it stared down at her with the awareness of man. It rammed its head, beak and talons against their barricade with righteous anger, each strike closer to achieving its goal.

Vandervelde desperately clutched Ardmore, trying to yank her out of the spell, but the general was a block of stone. Finally, after the last ram caused a rupture did Ardmore recover her senses enough to come to her feet, legs buckling and petrified eyes still on the screaming entity as her protectee led her away.

The toruk climbed to the peak of the building, and there, at the top of the tower, it made itself large. With head vertical to the sky and ordained by heaven's wrath, it announced the start of war. An army of ikrans, and their hooting Na'vi riders, circled around it like a whirlwind. Those who chanced to stare out the windows truly believed the apocalypse had come.

With a launch that shook the building, the king of the skies led the charge to the marina. Hunters sped through the streets, their night-adapted eyes allowing them to find, in the shadows, their enemies fumbling in the dark. Unprepared HAF troopers fired at the whooping spectres only to be skewered by shafts. Tawkami hurled down their bombs that burst into fireworks of shooting thorns. Anurai, flying with the Omatikaya, leapt off and took on desperate soldiers who fought with whatever they had.

The toruk plucked up an entire tank, worked itself to lift the tons of weight higher into the air, then let go, the deadly whistle of its descent being the only warning given before the inevitable. The tank's ammunition detonated, and a daisy chain of explosions erupted across the marina. Flying sections of the tank skidded over the burning tarmac, with one ploughing into an armed vehicle, throwing it like a tumbleweed. The metal container rolled with the momentum until it crashed against a wall, swinging open its contorted back doors. Zhâng and Parker tumbled out of the wreckage.

"Oh god, we're right in the centre of it." Parker winced at the battle.

Zhâng witnessed a flying warrior take out a HAF trooper with his deadly aim. "These aren't serfs, they're wild Na'vi! Bridgehead's under another attack."

"Again?"

Zhâng grabbed Parker and pulled him away, ducking under tails of smoke, trying to find shelter. The chaos attacked Parker's throat, and he was reduced to a fit of coughs. "Hold out here. Maybe we can—" Zhâng could not finish his sentence, for a screech came swooping down. Humanity's Last Hope acted fast. With one arm, he stayed the curved blade until he had the upper hand, then pushed forward with all his might. The two warriors circled the tarmac. Zhâng used his own body as a shield whilst withstanding the blows to his face; then, with a timely move, the Deja Blu used his ankle to snare a leg and crash atop the Na'vi. Zhâng kept pummeling the opponent, shrieking a deadly "Sa!" after every blow, he was not going to let himself lose simply because of a minor setback; he had to protect family. The face was mashed with bruises, blood and shattered bone when Zhâng, at last, relented. Slumping off the body, he returned to a stand. "We're good. Parker? Parker!" The recombinant ran over and crouched next to the masquerading soldier who was clutching his heart.

"St-st-stupid time...for...this to happen... Sorry—Gah!"

"No, no, no. We're going to help you." Zhâng patted the chest for lack of a better idea. "What is it? Is it your heart?"

"I-I-I think it got... too big on me..." Parker joked, regardless of how much it made the pangs worse. "Thanks a lot... I knew you'd guys be the death of me."

"We're going to get you help. Do you have any pills on you?"

He shook his trembling head. Instead of being taken over by the instinctual fear of the unknown, the man raised his open palm in calm acceptance for Zhâng to clutch. "Tell... Tell the team, 'Thanks.' You jerks...were the worst."

"We know. And sadly..." A soft breeze released through Zhâng's nose. "There's no cure for it."

One last chuckle, and the hand slipped away.

Channels of ash were streaked across the active stage as the relentless spirits ignored the terrible danger of encroaching flames. They kicked ankles, butted heads, elbowed the neck, clawed the face, pulled the hair, snatched the ears—utilizing all of their training against the other: a medley of Earth and Pandora evident in both. As their violent dance spun them around the craggy terrain—muscles aching and bodies sweltering—Neytiri and Quaritch saw nothing but red.

The Marine merged his fists and charged at her with his club of flesh, but the evasive woman ducked and sprung for a trypgillium. The titanic vegetation, similar to a boring sponge, had many holes that the princess latched onto in her vertical escape from Vrrtepeyktan. He snared her heel, but she shoved a foul kick into his nostril. With a swear and a yell, he pursued her to the top of the smouldering barrel. The two, swaying in their fatigue, balanced on the rims as they faced one another.

"Looking a little tired there...Mrs. Sully..." the demon wheezed. "You really think you can take me out again?"

Her hands hovered over her bleeding side, but she conjured her ebbing strength to unleash a sputtering vow, "I will kill you as many times as I have to!"

His feet shifted over the inch-wide edge. "And I'll come right back. For taking one of mine, I'm gonna rip your family apart!—piece by piece! So you better hope to end me now 'cause I'm just gonna dog your tail till the day you die!"

His taunt worked, and Neytiri shot across the gap with a throw he preempted. Fingers latched around her fist, his tendons bulged as he aimed to shatter her bones; but she, thinking fast, slipped her foot off the rim and fell into the hole. Quaritch released her as he fumbled to catch himself, barely stopping from falling in too. As he readjusted his position into confidence, he relished his trapped prey, for Neytiri was now moaning and panting in agony. He watched her worm onto her back and greeted her with a leer. He was ready to jump inside when she pulled her gambit: the Wolf pistol—a weapon so unfamiliar to the Na'vi hunter that she had forgotten it was on her. He lurched to evade, but a bullet's trajectory skidded past his right brow and blew off the top of his ear. Quaritch collapsed backwards into the inferno. He tumbled away to escape the heat, his shoulder bubbling and searing, his right hand shaking over the shattered flesh. A new explosion nearly took out his other ear when Neytiri fired at him from inside the pocked hollow. The unarmed man staggered and took off running through the grove with the hunter on his tail.

Serpentining past the scorched vegetation, Quaritch slid behind a mound—gasping uncontrollably—and peered over his shoulder. Neytiri was pursuing, pistol in hand, and circling about the maze for her prey; she spotted the whites of his eyes and took aim. Quaritch abandoned his cover with bullets popping behind. He hurdled burning plants, skidding around lurching timber when a timely branch smacked him to the earth. Gnashing his teeth, he rocked onto his back, and there was Neytiri, looming over him from the hilltop. She aimed her pistol, pulled the trigger and—nothing; the barrel was empty. Ignoring the pain, Quaritch charged for her and tackled her to the ground. They rolled down a steepening slope that broke into a sharp descent. Their building momentum unfastened their knot, and both tumbled separately over the jagged rocks towards the tumult of a raging sea.

Neytiri recovered herself, whereas her opponent was nowhere to be seen. She hastily stumbled to her feet and raced for the ledge, where she discovered him splayed out on a level far below.

Quaritch pried his mouth open only for it to be a raspy intake, barely enough to fill his winded lungs. Shivering and burning, he tried to stand up but couldn't; that's when he caught her leaping down the terrain. Quaritch gasped, starting to feel a very real fear of the she-devil. He madly dragged his battered self over the rock in target of the bluff jutting out over the deadly waters: he would not grant her the satisfaction of killing him again.

Her animal scream boomed in his ears, and her flying claws snatched him. The Marine attempted fight but, in his fagged state, was easily subdued. Somewhere during his useless efforts to buck the Na'vi, he felt his queue wrap around his throat.

Neytiri yanked.

He kicked and squirmed and fought to work his fingers under the noose of his own braid, but the bind was too tight. The banshee towed him backwards with her militant boot wedged into his spine, acting as the counterforce. He sputtered and gasped as his throat was squeezed. With his diminishing strength, he hiked onto his knees, but Neytiri would not let go. As her horrible cry sounded off to the sky, his surroundings faded into nothing.

Neytiri released the snare and, with a nudge of her foot, sent the slumped body over the bluff to watch him sink into the dark sea, where he disappeared under a falling wave.

It was over.

Quaritch regained his senses only enough to feel the unforgiving water fill his lungs and deny him the breath he tried taking in. Snippets of his life replayed in his mind—his moments with Spider reigning dominant before ending on Casey. His final thoughts reflected on the unbearable loneliness of his pitiful existence and the absolute meaninglessness of it all. His spirit drifted back into that deep, familiar sleep—descending, sinking and falling further and further away from the set of hands coming down for him.

[Toliman]

Nice  

[JforA]

Chapter 55 Evacuate
For the third time, the unwavering spirit circled the air in search of his family. Smoke and blaze and battle cries reached high over the plagued city where he flew, but for all the Na'vi's success, he had none in locating Neytiri. Every few seconds, he attempted contact, but his mate's voice did not return. He needed a clue, something, anything to point the way. As he cursed his uselessness, an infamous shriek stole his attention. He peered down and witnessed a span of orange soaring below. The incredible wings rose, climbing closer to Toruk Makto till his feet practically brushed the leathery hide. Jake bunched his lips in relief, then whispered, "Thank you, Tsu'tey," before unlinking from his ikran and stepping onto the flying platform. The predator pealed in approval, but as soon as Jake reached for the antenna, the approval ended by way of a neck thrust that nearly knocked off the passenger.

"Whoa! Jeez! Okay, okay. I guess Toruk Makto is just a one-time thing, eh?" Jake looked back at his abandoned ikran growing smaller by the minute. "Hey, how am I going to get back? You want me to just trust you?" A roar vibrated his body, and the predator banked away from the thick of battle towards the cape. The flight felt long, and soon, the gargantuan border wall was coming into view. Jake was beginning to fear he was being led out of the city when the toruk opted to glide over a calm, blue-lit beach. "What the hell you bringing me here for?" He slapped the neck, trying to get the beast's attention, but over his shouts came a succession of sharp whistles—The father stopped protesting. As soon as the toruk landed, Jake jumped off and sped frantically over the sand, for there, standing in the water, was his daughter, Kiri.

Spoiler

The overjoyed and completely drenched girl was lifted into the air for a twirl. She was back in the water again when her father dropped to his knees, clutching her like the world was about to end. Gasping his sobs, Jake cradled his Kiwi, there, on that white shore.

"How? How?"

Kiri could barely sign the words, for she was trembling with such happiness.

He stroked her face, wanting to memorize her every feature while he still had the chance. He had so much he wanted to say to her, but there was no time—His mate was in trouble, and before he could offer aid, he had to see to his parental duty to the very end.

Jake took his daughter by the arm and ran for the lingering toruk. Without warning, he plucked her up and set her on the swarthy beast. "Kiri," he spoke with every ounce of breath. "Listen to me very carefully. You're good with animals—I need you to fly as far away from here as possible, okay?" She was bewildered and signed for him to climb aloft, but he shook his head. "They're after you, Kiri. You have to get out—don't look back." She would not stop shaking her head, so her father took her face in his hands and spoke firmly. "I can't go with you. I have to go help your mother, okay? You don't need me anymore, Baby. You have what it takes. You can do this." He backed away, proud to have brought her this far and, with a push of his arms, authorized the toruk to fly.

Kiri reached down, begging through distorted cries to not send her off like this, but her father would not take her hand; instead, he stepped back and let the distance between them widen. As her sight remained fixated on his shrinking image, she witnessed him open his palms, cross thumb over thumb and push a "V" formation heavenward.

Jake held up his sentiment down to the last precious second he had his daughter in view. Tears moved down his face, for he knew, in his heart, this was a final goodbye, a weight balanced by the blessing of having been the one lucky enough to see her off. Eventually, all he could make out was the fading toruk; and, from the churning water, a mighty sea creature breached triumphantly. When it fell back into the dark swells, the Last Shadow was gone.

"I love you."

Bringing a hand up to his throat that detoured briefly to wipe off a salt flow, Jake pressed his throat mic. |"Neteyam, do you copy?"|


  |"I'm here, Father. Have you found Mother?"|


|"No. Listen, I need you to fly south over the unfinished buildings and pick me up on the beach by the cape."|


  |"What happened to Bob?"|


|"No time to explain. Just come,"| he urged, for he didn't want to risk sharing what happened over the airwaves and compromise his daughter.

Neteyam separated from the action and hailed White Flower; however, as he set off, he heard the portentous hum of gunship engines coming alive, their resurrection being the harbinger to the searchlights, which began popping up sporadically, piercing the night with their waving arms. |"Father, the Skypeople are gaining strength!"|


  |"Then issue a retreat."|


|"What about you?"|


  |"I can hold tight. But hurry."|


Reluctantly, the prince doubled back and shouted at his brothers to abandon the fight and take to the air. Those left standing, staggered to their brethren swooping down for them and were grabbed aboard by their winged comrades.

Jake was pacing for a long while on the sands when a string of bangs, rolling over the horizon, confirmed to him the changing tides. Anxiously, he waited when the welcome sight of a white blur came zipping over the construction zone. |"I see you, Neteyam! Look to your left. I'm—"| He stopped, for he realized a WASP gunship was dogging his son's tail. |"Neteyam! Get out of here! You're being followed!"| he hollered into his mic, but the son wasn't going to abandon his mission. He dived to port and swooped over his father, plucking him up in White Flower's backwing talons.

|"Hang on!"| Neteyam warned and bulleted his ikran over the waters. The rider executed sharp lefts and hard rights, but the WASP was unshakeable.

Gunfire sailed past Jake, each round dangerously close. He swung about wildly but managed to work up his free hand. |"Drop me! I'm too heavy!"|


  |"I can do this! I'm not letting go!"|


|"You have a better chance if you do!"| he shouted.


  |"Sorry, Father, but in the words of your kind—"|


Jake was making all sorts of facial contortions from the turbulence but dared to laugh anyway. "Never known you to swear..."

"Mother said I was too lukewarm," remarked the warrior, staring dead ahead at the plasma storm.

The father's eyes scanned the targeting guns. "They're locking in on you!"

Neteyam immediately nosedived and followed the lethal swelling waves, just barely escaping the barrage of bullets that dotted the water. Popping spume burned his eyes as he careened fast through the salt sprays, deliberately chasing the danger striking the sea. A quick look back, and he spotted his enemy turning away—his risky decision paid off. Neteyam raised his right arm, hooting victoriously, when a burst of heaven cracked overhead. The startling clap rushed through his core and exited through every limb, leaving him to fly temporarily blind with a persistent ringing in his ears. He regained his lost grip on the harness and trusted himself to White Flower, and his seeing-eye banshee veered towards the safety of the cape. Brightness was dispelling from his stained eyes when he sighted, to his great joy, his mother standing on a bluff.

|"Father! I see Mother!"| he cheered despite not being able to hear himself. With a loud holler, Neteyam caught her eyes, then quickly signed, "Take to your ikran! We must fly!"

Breaking into a run, Neytiri warbled for Snatanhì and flew after her son.


Elsewhere, on the north side of the cove, a recombinant breached. He gasped for air, paddling with one arm while using the other to keep his unconscious teammate buoyant. Tossed around in the swirling waters, a new wave engulfed them, but the determined man breached again, sputtering out salt and taking every moment of visibility to seek out land. Far off was a strip of breakwater—their only hope. The giant had his heading and kicked through the turbulent sea, each stroke zapping his energy. He was running on nothing when his limp body struck the tribars at last. After gaining purchase of the stone block, he hoisted himself and his burden onto the bumpy mound, then threw his rescue over his shoulders to clamber up the projecting concrete. Once he reached the flat surface of the jetty, he laid down his teammate and rushed to begin CPR. With all his girth, he thrummed his entwined fingers into the chest and damned himself for being too late with each inefficacious jolt. Not thinking twice, he switched methods to shoot breaths down the throat, all the while making petitions to Providence to please bring him back.

A gurgle.

Quaritch gasped, then twisted onto his side, hacking up sea water, blood and every vile thing that was festering in his body before breaking out into a shaky, uncontrollable wheeze. Someone propped him up and let him lean into their chest for support. When the colonel angled his neck to see who it was, he went very still.

"I already told you, sir..." Wainfleet smiled weakly. "I'll follow you wherever you go..."

Starring into those accursed eyes, the declaration triggered a round of haphazard coughs. "You took your—cough!—sweet time!—cough!"

Lyle was too exhausted to jest but tried. "Sorry, sir. But I had to get our team to safety first."

"Are they alive?"

"Believe so. The girl summoned some sort of whale that was going to bring them to the surface. I would've stayed to watch, but I had to come back for you before it was too late. Good thing you were cursing me so much. I was able to trail your echos."

Quaritch fidgeted in embarrassment with several loud and vulgar complaints. "Well, you deserved every one I shouted!"

"Yes, sir."

"You're still not natural, Lyle..." Miles leaned to make himself comfortable but broke into another nasty sputter.

"How do you feel?"

"Like s***."

As the two stationary men could do nothing, for the moment, other than recover, Lyle studied the fire raging across the marina. "What's happening out there?"

"Looks like the blackout was city-wide, and the Na'vi took advantage of it."

"We have to find Casey."

"She's dead."

Lyle went cold. "How do you know?"

His chest laboured to rise for the hard testimony. "I encountered Mrs. Sully...out there, on the bluff... She was disguised as her—hair...tattoos—cough!—and wearing Casey's bloodied uniform. She's gone, Lyle. And that b**** still walks." His sentence ended with another round of exasperated hacks as wretched as he was.

Wainfleet only stared upon the aftermath of The People's rage, for words escaped him. No flags could be lowered, no cannons sounded off, to bid his fallen sister a deserved salute. All he could do was bow his head in respect and offer her a moment of silence. Somewhere between the noise of crashing waters and uncontrolled fires, his voice returned. "She knew the risks, sir."

"No, Lyle. I am to blame. I asked her to stay behind."

"You didn't know."

He shut his eyes. That fateful, innocuous decision was born of pettiness, shame and cowardice—traits no leader should possess. He loved her, and now she was gone. His last memory of her—a far cry from what her greatness deserved and a fitting reminder of what he was. Lyle shouldn't have rescued him, but since he did, Quaritch was going to make good on his new directive. "Get me to my feet. We need to find your missus and get you out of here."

"Sir?"

"On my feet!"

The corporal swung a limp arm across his shoulders and brought Quaritch to a stand.

"Soon as I get you out of this city, I'm going to find Zhâng."

"You're going to need help with that, sir."

"Lyle...listen to me. You're going to fly off with your pregnant wife and leave Zhâng to me. Understand? It's not betrayal if I give you the order!"

The sniper acquiesced.

"Okay," Quaritch grumbled. "We understand each other."

From his direct, gruff and surly tone, Wainfleet knew full well this was his colonel's version of a blubbering apology. The kid brother readjusted his grip and helped his jerk hobble down the strip leading to the shore, but after several paces, Lyle learned even that was too much for Miles and took the initiative of tossing him up for a fireman's carry.

"Carrying me across the threshold, there?"

"Don't say that after we kissed, sir."

"Was it a big wet one?"

"Just the way you like it."

"God dammit, Lyle! Taking liberties—"

"Holy s***!"

"What? Something I said?"

The corporal set down his load and pointed. "It's Zhâng!"

"For f***'s sake!"

Going as fast as they could muster, the two fatigued recombinants limped towards their brother, and the elated amputee helped them onto dry land.

The comrade wasted no time for a hug. "What the hell, man?" Lyle laughed.

"Sup, Wainfleet. Sir." He nodded to both. "Did I pick a good time to finally wake up?"

"No!" The smiles were all around as Quaritch moved in to congratulate his recovery. "Well, if this ain't a damned coincidence. Guess we're all leaving together."

"I guess so," the corporal chuckled. "So, how do we get to Homestead?"

"With the help of our team, of course."

Quaritch's eyes followed Zhâng's hand and saw, past a lifting curtain of smoke, the gathered recombinants standing by their ikrans.

The second Walker spotted her colonel, she practically leapt onto him. He cried out from the wounds she reopened, but instead of an apology, she slapped him. "You bloody, stupid idiot! Why didn't you come with us? Leaving us to think you were dead..."

"I love you, too, Bridgette."

She slapped him again.

"I found them on the dock, sir. They say a whale brought 'em over."

"Yeah, in it's mouth. We paddled out and found Zhâng standing around on the shore playing valet for our birds."

"I guess they thought after spotting me, they'd find the rest of their riders."

"When we got to shore, we realized the girl wasn't with us anymore. I guess she preferred the company of the whale. Little hurt, but it's probably for the best."

"She must be halfway to Ninevah by now," Prager quipped, snugging into view.

Brown also joined them. "Sir, I... I want to apologize for earlier. You were right about the girl—We saw it firsthand. She's able to communicate telepathically with animals."

"What are you saying, Brown?" Quaritch accused.

Prager snorted.

"No, sir, that's not what I mean. Uh... S***."

"Well, she's gone now and headed off to who knows where," the colonel mumbled. He then craned his neck upon spying a small body lying on the ground and wrapped in an emergency blanket from a banshee pack. "Who died?"

Smiles faded, and heads were bowed in respect. "It's Parker, sir," the amputee revealed, and both Quaritch and Lyle stared at him hard. "He came for me in the ward, trying to help. We got out, but he had some sort of heart attack. Brown suspects he had too much excitement and..."

"He's gone?" Lyle muttered in disbelief, staring at the unmoving form.

"We were going to take him with us. No man gets left behind."

After a long look at the shroud, Quaritch nodded in approval. "Then let's stop dawdling. We need to get to Homestead."

"Don't forget Casey," Walker added. "She's probably pissed with us for taking so long."

He blinked once and said nothing; they hadn't the luxury of time to be disillusioned; instead, Quaritch walked over to Gloria, who had been circling the chaotic city for hours, searching for her rider. When the man finally had the decency to show, she growled in anger, and he patted her disapproving head. "Okay, Gloria, okay. Papa's back now. You can stop being so worried." Responding with a hiss, she supported him with her neck and helped nudge him aboard.

With their leader back in the saddle, the recombinants set out for Homestead one last time.


Farther away, at the edge of the kill zone, Neytiri landed ungracefully just past the perimeter. Lungs working hard, she searched for her son whom she had overtaken during the flight. She found him, hovering White Flower in the air and performing the action of dropping someone, after which Neteyam catapulted off the great neck and linked arms with his mother.

|"Could you not find Kiri?"| he panted.

Silently, Neytiri set a palm on his cheek, and the speckling of her wrinkled chin did the answering. The son tapped his forehead to hers.

She pulled away and breathed deeply. |"Where is your father?"|

He stared at her curiously, then turned around. Looking upon the vacant spot, every ounce of colour leaked out of his frame, and his legs locked to the ground.

"Neteyam..." Her voice creaked. |"Where is your father...?"|

The prince faced her, but instead of replying, what the woman saw were pinning eyes on a head that slowly began to tremble.

"Neteyam?" Her hands reached out, touching and cinching his arms. |"Wh-where is Jake? Where—"| The pleading fingers unintentionally dug into his elbows |"Where is my mate? Where is Rider of Last Shadow?"|

The head could not stay raised any longer.

|"No..."| The body wavered in shock, and the heart palpitated. Her eyes swelled. |"No! He is not gone... He is not gone!"| she shrieked. Neytiri ripped away from Neteyam and moved towards the kill zone, but a grab stopped her.

|"Mother, you can't!"|

|"I'm going back for him!"|

|"It's too late!"| The startling announcement seized her body, and when she managed to turn her head around, his face, strewn with pain, whimpered, |"We've lost him..."|

The woman's legs gave way, and the son dropped with her. Rocking together, the widow wrung her wrists as she broke out into a heart-wrenching caterwaul—the demon king's curse had befallen her.

Piles of ash, billows of smoke—all that they had to consider home—utterly destroyed: this is what the tribe returned to. They landed before the charred cabins, not wanting to believe their eyes and, with feet dragging across the dirt, the team stood before what was left of Homestead.

When it hit Lyle, he ran over, screaming his mate's name. He leapt up the weakened porch steps, but they collapsed under his weight, and he fell into the remains of his kelku. The desperate husband freed his leg and waded through the rubble, diving his hands into the ash, where he clawed away until reality finally slid its hand onto his shoulder and broke it to the man.

Zhâng was the complete opposite as he quietly dismounted Lyle's ikran and walked over to her former cabin. He stood at the smouldering porch like a statue serving as a monument to a grave. "I can't forgive you for this one, Z-Dog," he whispered. "You knew I didn't want to wake up if you weren't going to be there..." The quivering lips clamped, and the eyes squeezed before anything else could come rushing out.

Not one recombinant denied the mourners a bow of the head. As for the sniper, he did not linger; a sour dullness took over his mind, allowing him to operate his body from a semi-dead state—his heart so overwhelmed, it couldn't emote anymore; and, like an animated corpse, the widower drew up. His body wobbled a bit as he returned to his team, his eyes staring at nothing and a face smeared in the paint of his mourning. Miles took a step towards him, flowed an arm across the back, and brought him in with each firm pat. Without speaking, Lyle bobbed his head in answer to that silent request of his colonel to just hold out for a little longer.

Only after Zhâng returned did their leader address them all. "Tonight, we lost four. Parker. Lyle's wife and child, and Casey. I said once before that if our numbers change, it could only go down. But what matters is how long we make that number last. This..." His hand encompassed the crowd. "This is what we defend, no matter what Bridgehead or Sully or any savage tries throwing at us. We are not human, we are not Na'vi—"

"We are family," they answered in unison.

A limb reached for a limb or a head or a back; and, once more, the team huddled in a hold that could not be broken. After mourning the loss of one and cherishing the return of another, the recombinants mounted their banshees and flew out of Bridgehead. The night had tested them, and while none left it unscathed, they forever owned the knowledge that they had one another to lean on—a beacon that would guide them through the darkness and back into the light. This was the real Pandora Effect. It was not a condition but a treatment—the healing power of the moon that lay in the bond. Whether between family, friends or the flora and fauna around them, every connection made served to bring the soul back home.

End of Volume 1

[JforA]

Epilogue
Under an oppression of fog and a dreary sun, a woman in a shroud of pale wash silently approached the Tree of Souls. She had locked herself away in a prison within her mind—a bastion where nothing could enter or escape. In her grief, she was her own consoler, choosing to shut out everyone who could not possibly fathom the extent of the rupture in her soul.

Spoiler

The whole day prior saw the mourning of many. The death of Toruk Makto was felt strongly by all—their champion, their symbol of victory, the embodiment of the Na'vi spirit, slain so easily and without a body to return to Eywa. He would be a single bead on a songcord that a finger would drift over, walking life for all its course, good and bad.

Neytiri joined her queue and let herself stand before the image of her mate, every aspect captured just as she remembered—strong, dependable, mighty and above all, loving. He looked at her stoic face and the tears rushing down it.

|"What's with the crying?"| he whispered.

|"You did not come back from the battle... They tell me you are dead."|

|"And what do you say?"|

Long did her eyes linger on him. |"That you and our daughter still live..."|

Jake stood and patted her shaved head, smirking in the lovable way she dearly remembered. |"Well, there you go."|

She began to break down and mewled, |"Tell me you are not gone."|

"Crazy, Sheila." He hummed. |"I'll always be with you."|

Outside in the mortal world, Neytiri's head tilted for a phantom kiss, only to return to reality with no warmth on her lips, just the memory of what it felt like.

By the people's will, Neteyam te Tskaha Zayksuli'itan was selected to lead, and through palpable sombreness, the feather mantle was placed upon his shoulders. Mo'at sensed he was troubled in ways beyond grief, but he would not confide in her. Neteyam told no one of what took place, not even Lew. He ran off to a corner of his soul and buried the dark secret where no one could find it, thinking that if he left it there, ignored, perhaps one day the burden would go away.

Kiri's loss, on top of Jake's, destroyed all desire to unite. With the home of the Tawkami burned, the Anurai longing for their savannah, and the Omatikaya fearing Bridgehead's reprisal, the leaders came together to discuss what to do for their clans.

|"We cannot remain here,"| Neteyam spoke, readjusting the mantle that felt very heavy on him. |"The Skypeople are sure to come after us for revenge. Food is too scarce for us to all remain together. We must split up."|

Syotxa' was reserved as he nodded to Neteyam's reasoning. |"My people need to rebuild. We will travel south. The lands there are rich."|

|"We will travel west,"| Häku stated. |"Return to our plains and intermarry with our smaller brother clans."|

|"We will go north,"| said Neteyam. |"And seek sanctuary among the Yayak."|

Syotxa' was perplexed. |"The Yayak? I have not heard of such a clan."|

|"I am not surprised. I learned of them through the Skypeople. Explorers stumbled upon this clan many years ago, but because of their remote location, the aliens did not bother with them."|

|"Is it wise to relocate your people to such a region?"|

|"The Yayak are of the wind, rain and raging sea. We are also of the air, so we should find kinship."|

|"It sounds like a risk."|

|"It is, Olo'eykte Häku. But my Omatikaya will be targeted if I don't move them far away. I feel in my spirit this is the right path to take."|

|"Then, Eywa be with you."| The beads of her headdress swaying with her movement, Häku addressed the other leader. |"Olo'eyktan Syotxa'. My father has recovered enough to travel, thanks to you. He will return with us to our plains."|

|"I am glad to have assisted you, Häku."|

There was a lull of quiet before the olo'eykte spoke again. |"Olo'eyktan Neteyam. There is a small matter I must mention to you. My sister does not mean to travel back with us. She has made up her mind to stay with the demoness you captured. I do not want her to burden your clan, and she is my sister, but..."| There was something in the way Neteyam's brows arched that made her pull back and hesitate on her next sentiment. |"I am deeply troubled by her choices and fear she has allowed herself to become perverted."|

|"Perverted? I met her. She is sweet and amiable."|

|"She is also headstrong and foolish and unwise! I love her, but... If she requests to go with you, I must warn you, her allegiance is not with The People anymore, but the aliens."|

In the flash of a second, Neteyam's mind was quickened to Spider. |"Au! That settles it. Do not worry, Olo'eykte Häku. I shall not wait to be asked. I will go right now and tell your sister"|—he stood up proudly—|"that she is more than welcome to travel with us."|

|"Olo'eyktan Neteyam—"|

|"We must never forget our own family, respected leader of the Anurai. We become pawns of the Skypeople when we do."| He then politely dipped his head in farewell to both. |"I'm sorry we did not become brothers in this life, friend, Syotxa'. Perhaps in another? Eywa be with you and your clan."|

|"And yours, friend, Neteyam. May the spirit of your father guide you."|

"Irayo."


The son of Sully was ambling through the camp, constantly having to remind himself where he was heading. When he finally reached his objective, he arrived to a commotion.

|"Stand aside!"|

|"I will not let you harm her!"|

Neteyam hurried to wedge himself between his mother and the knife-wielding Anurai barricading the tent entrance. |"Mother, what is going on?"|

Neytiri did not shy from roaring her displeasure. |"You tolerate a demon in our camp?"|

|"She's our prisoner, and she's fallen ill,"| he argued.

|"Then end her now, and let her join her leader."|

|"Mother, I'm the leader of this clan now,"| he reminded; he didn't want to say it so blatantly, but she was leaving him little choice.

Neytiri was taken aback by his tone and eyed him, casting a disapproving look at Säro before turning away.

The newly appointed olo'eyktan sighed, rubbed his head, and went to help the woman up. Säro sheathed her blade, something she started carrying when she saw how much she was going to need it. Neteyam then guided her into the tent, where they looked upon CJ, who was lying on a mat and trembling in her sleep. She had succumbed to an infection that had taken a turn for the worse.

|"How is she?"| he asked.

|"Her temperature is hot, and she shakes constantly. None of the Tawkami wish to help her."|

|"Do not fear, Säro. I will ask my grandmother to tend to her. As tsahìk, her knowledge of medicines is most profound."|

|"Our deepest gratitude,"| she replied with a weary bow.

|"Is it true you will not be returning to your clan?"|

Her face went grave. |"I cannot go back."|

He watched as her fingers cradled the limp, pale ones. |"Säro, acting on my father's behalf, I will extend sanctuary to this rekom. However, I plan to migrate my clan far away to escape the Skypeople. I will do my best to look after her, but... I cannot guarantee her safety without you. Would you consider travelling with us?"|

|"So far away from...?"|

|"I'm afraid so."|

Säro went quiet as she ruminated on what he was proposing. For a long while, her eyes remained on Ly'il's brother, shivering in a cold sweat and pallid as death. The answer was clear.

|"I will travel with you."|


A grand gathering. An electric mood. The denizens of Bridgehead, who were privileged enough, attended the esteemed event. There, on the stage, stoic and brave, stood the patriotic young man who, as Serrano beamed over the megaphones, "single-handedly took down a terrorist." The spotlighted figure was so humble in his achievement that rather than relish the honour, he wore a fearsome scowl as the governor hung a solid gold medal around his neck. Hundreds of hands raised in cheer at the living symbol of man's endurance.

Once the obligatory after-party curtseys were distributed was the Pandoran finally allowed to return home—just so long as it wasn't the home he had in mind. He was escorted to an armoured limousine stationed outside the dome. A trooper opened the vehicle's door, and the abstracted man ducked inside. He slid onto dark glossy seats, then removed his EXO pack to hang on a hook, determined to keep his unobstructed eyes glued to the tinted world that started to crawl by. "Is riding with you also supposed to be considered one of the honours?"

Ardmore's mouth stretched. She kept her back straight, despite the cushy seats, and head up with eyes keenly forward as she, too, tolerated her driving companion. "You really impressed the city, kid. I should be careful of what I say to you from now on."

"So why don't you stop talking?"

"I was asked by Miss Vandervelde to pass on a message. 'Quaritch has been incarcerated for when you change your mind'—whatever that means."

His grim eyes remained firm on the passing scenes. He didn't say anything.

"As for that Kiri girl—"

Instantly, he broke from his thoughts and bared down on Ardmore with a murderous stare. This was the second time he heard that name on a blasphemer's lips; he wanted an answer then and demanded one now. "How do you know about her?"

Her head turned, slightly bobbing from the vehicle's motion, and she leered at him. "You really haven't figured it out, have you?"

"What has Quaritch said?" he boomed.

"Not Quaritch. You." He didn't understand, so she gestured a little finger at his EXO pack. "Covert listening device. Everything you ever said near that mask went directly to me. That's right. We have the 'magic' to do that. Don't worry. You'll learn in time what other sorcery we can pull off. Maybe it's you who should be careful of what you say from now on?"

A feeble hand plucked up the visor, and the man stared numbly at the acrylic bowl, reflecting his face.

"We did capture her, thanks to your blabbering lips, but there was an unfortunate accident."

The life vanished from his eyes.

"Compound flooded. She drowned in her cell. Too bad, huh?"

His breathing skipped, his mind went red, and when his fingers wrapped around the EXO pack, the tightening cinch wrenched the shell until it cracked.

"Fpeio."

"Hmm? One of your Na'vi words again? Yeah, I had to get a translator for all your gibberish. Some kind of voodoo curse?"

There was no harshness in the return gaze; on the contrary, it was actually civil. "'Fpeio' is Na'vi for 'fair challenge.' It means no matter what it takes me to get there, I will kill you."

The general sized him up in a single pan. Though she knew he could do nothing to her now, that was only for the present—the teeth of Quaritch's cub would ultimately grow into fangs.

"Looking forward to it."

[JforA]

IT IS FINISHED! There is an acknowledgements section available on all platforms where this story has been posted, thanking everyone on this site for offering the Na'vi translations. We wouldn't be able to do this without your help. See you all again in Recombinant Wild Lands.

[Toliman]

Txantsan It was very nice to read

See you all again in Recombinant Wild Lands.

 

[Toliman]

See you all again in Recombinant Wild Lands.

Do you already work on that?

[JforA]

Srane! It is currently at 82,000 words. Praying for a healthy living situation to work on it further.

[Toliman]

Txantsan Etrìpa syayvi 

[JforA]

As of Jan 10th 2024, Recombinant Bridgehead is officially available as an Ebook!

Click here to download from your choice of stores - Free to Read

It's also available on Google Docs if you want to skip downloading and read in your browser.

Tinan lefpom!

[Toliman]

Great  

[Toliman]

Srane! It is currently at 82,000 words. Praying for a healthy living situation to work on it further.

How your writing of Recombinant Wild Lands continue?

[JforA]

Srane! It is currently at 82,000 words. Praying for a healthy living situation to work on it further.

How your writing of Recombinant Wild Lands continue?

It's been going through a quiet phase but things are looking up from here. My sister is eager to get this show on the road. 

[Toliman]

Etrìpa syayvi