"What does the trace analyser say?" asked the patrol leader.
"Hold on a moment," said the soldier, peering at the data screen on a gun-like device. "The readings have to stabilise before it gives definitive results."
"I thought you said you got some good readings off those boots," sniped the patrol leader.
Na'dia heard the soldier muttered something under his breath, but she couldn't quite make out the words. She was sure, however, those words related to either the patrol leader's ancestry, his personal habits or his aberrant sexuality.
The patrol consisted of seven soldiers, armed with a mix of light machine guns, assault rifles with underslung grenade launchers, and heavy rocket-propelled grenades with shaped charge warheads – the last, no doubt, for dealing with some of the more formidably armoured specimens of Pandoran wildlife.
"There!" said the soldier with the trace analyser, whatever that was, pointing with one hand while keeping his eyes on the screen. "Ten metres that way."
Perhaps the tawtute weren't as stupid as they usually were. If Na'dia remembered correctly, that was almost exactly where she had thrown Tania's boots. It seemed the trace analyser was doing a reasonable job of following her trail.
Another soldier went cautiously into the bush, in the direction that trace analyser guy was pointing. He emerged about twenty seconds later, holding a stick thrust into a boot, and waved it in front of the trace analyser.
"That is Petrova's boot," said the soldier. "The trace signs are positive, and there is no sign of blood. She was probably alive when it was last on her foot." He frowned, manipulated some of the controls for a couple of seconds, adding, "The secondary readings identify another individual – I think it is Na'vi, but there is something strange about the diagnostics. The readings are quite strong, all around here, almost as if...no, that's ridiculous. The damn thing must be playing up again."
Na'dia made a quick mental calculation. Ninat would not be able to travel quickly with both Zhess'ika and Tania. At their current rate of progress, the aliens would catch them in less than a day. She had to do something now. Besides, it would be polite to let the aliens know how accurate their tracking machine was. No doubt it was already picking up on her scent, no matter how tightly she was controlling her scent glands.
One of the other grunts commented sotto voce, "Do you reckon the blue monkeys are going to eat Petrova?"
Now she was angry. The People did not eat their own – even tawtute uniltìranyu – although her palulukan memories informed her that Na'vi tasted very pleasant, almost like yerik, with a lingering aftertaste. She drew her swords, the metal ringing ever so softly.
"What was that?" snapped the patrol leader, his ears flicking towards the unnatural sound. Na'dia did not give him any time to do anything else.
She stepped out onto the track, screaming, "Yaaaaa!" The razor sharp edge of her titanium alloy blade swung true, shearing through the trace analyser and severing three of the operator's fingers. Before he had an opportunity to react to his wounding, Na'dia allowed the energy of her first blow to spin her around, the back edge of the blade in her left hand slashing through his throat. A fountain of blood exploded forward from the corpse, some spraying into her open mouth. Her tongue exploded in delicious hot, salty sensation, and all she could see was red.
The patrol leader took a couple of quick steps backwards and raised his assault rifle – he could not fire for fear of hitting his own men. He saw the Na'vi swing her deadly blades twice more, felling two more of his men with single blows – one a thrust angled up under the rib cage, the other a vicious disemboweling slash across his belly.
He gritted his teeth in a savage grin – in a moment he would have a clear shot at this bitch. His finger tightened on the trigger, but then something out of his experience happened. He blinked slightly, and the unearthly apparition faded away, almost vanishing before his eyes.
The three surviving soldiers started to spray fire through the undergrowth, one of them letting loose with a couple of grenades from his underslung launcher.
The patrol leader did not fire a shot, instead yelling, "Cease fire! Cease fire!"
Na'dia's heart was pounding with excitement. Some of the shots had come perilously close to her – these soldiers were good, their performance no doubt enhanced by the heightened senses of their Avatar bodies. She was going to enjoy killing these prey.
"Where the fuck did the savage come from?" swore one of the soldiers, his weapon sweeping from side to side, trying to pick up on the slightest noise or movement. "The bitch fucked Khan, Dubois and Stirling."
"Stow it," commanded the patrol leader. "Whatever she was, she wasn't stupid. The first thing she did was take out the trace analyser."
Na'dia thought to herself that their leader also was not stupid. She was standing safely behind a tree, out of their direct line of fire. She called out in English, "Dreamwalker! You do not belong here. Return to Hell's Gate and leave our world, or the People will slay you, as I slew your three friends."
"I'm afraid I cannot do that," said the patrol leader, giving a hand signal to his men to stand fast. "You have one of our people. Is she still alive?"
"She is my captive," answered Na'dia. "If you stop your noisy men from trying to outflank me, and return to Hell's Gate now, I give you my word as a warrior that the Omaticaya will treat Tat'yana Fyodorvna Petrova with honour, and keep her safe from harm, if she gives her parole."
"What surety will a nameless warrior give to keep her word and not harm our friend?" demanded the patrol leader.
"The People have little faith in the honour of the Sky People," answered Na'dia. "My word should be enough, but if you want surety, you hold our loyal friends captive. If you do not harm them, or any other captives you may take, then the People will not harm our captives. If you do not, our vengeance will be swift and terrible. That should be surety enough for a faithless tawtute."
After a few moments consideration, the patrol leader answered, "I accept your terms, and will convey them to our leadership."
One of the soldiers protested, "Boss...what about Petrova?"
"Stow it," he snapped. "We can't track her now, not without the tracer. Back to Hell's Gate."
"I will be watching," called out Na'dia, and laughed. She could almost hear the soldiers flinching at her merriment.
Na'dia trailed the remains of the patrol back to Hell's Gate. Their leader was as good as his word, so perhaps these uniltìranyu would not be as treacherous as the tawtute usually were.
She spent the next couple of days scouting the proximity of Hell's Gate, trailing the patrols, and making sure that none followed her trail back to Ninat.
There was only one thing that actively worried her – where was the palulukan, and her mate and cubs?