max.
I walk through the crowded halls alongside Jake toward the comissary, keeping my head bent in an almost respectful manner. Without my winged advantage, any of the soldiers I see could probably kick my ass. After all, I'm a grub, a science puke, meant for research and evaluation. My lips are pressed softly together and my eyes flick up occasionally from my booted feet to see my co-workers, who give me amused looks.
"Are you worried?" asks Jake, causing me to look down at him, the corners of his lips are twitching up, like he's about to smile but won't allow himself to. I keep my face emotionless as I respond.
"What do I have to be nervous about? All I'm doing is research, right? Not putting my life on the line," I brush my hair out of my eyes and shrug to hitch my bag higher up on my shoulder. He gives a dry chuckle, I look him over again. Does he know something I don't? I never told Tommy about my wings…so Jake couldn't know, right?
We enter the comissary and I take a place a few steps closer than him, not craning my neck to get a clear glimpse at the man in front. To be frank it isn't hard. He's pacing in front of us like some sort of predator. He's giving a speech, reinstilling what most had been told in training or had heard about beforehand. He stops with perfect military posture, informing us that we're on Pandora, and not Kansas. (No fricken duh.) I tug on my pigtail and train my eyes on him, not entirely enraptured by his words.
"Out beyond that fence every living thing that crawls, flies, or squats in the mud wants to kill you and eat your eyes for jujubees."
Any side-conversations at that moment end abruptly. I barely pay attention as he continues. The Na'vi, the indegenous humanoids, deadly arrowtips. I've heard this before from Norm and Tom, read it in books, seen illustrations of the species–or at least the Avatars that look so similar to them–on recruiting posters and billboards.
My face falls when I think of the billboards and posters. Me and Fang had once sat atop one and talked about recruits and Pandora.
It was ten years ago, just outside of New York City. The Resources Development Adminstration had just started another campaign for new recruits. We sat on top of a billboard advertising the company and the good it was doing for our planet. Fang and I had gotten McDonalds, about seven orders of large fries and a Quarter Pounder with Cheese to split.
Fang offered me one of the french fry containers with that half-smile of his. I took it with a nervous smile and started chowing down. I was twenty-one and still getting nervous about dating. Mainly it was because we'd just gotten over a bad fight. We actually hadn't spoken in months. This was basically our way of making up. Food was always a lure for me, especially since I had no job and was reverting to eating roadkill again.
"Stocks for the RDA are up," he informed me, taking out a fry order of his own. He hung around the stock exchange then, blogging about his thoughts about both the market and the government.. "Probably because they just found a new stash of unobtanium and definitely a slew of Na'vi artifacts for research back here."
I speak with a mouthful of deep-fried potato, "I heard about the artifacts." I swallowed. "Not about more unobtanium. Don't you think the RDA should put up a front here, too? Start cleaning up the planet already?"
He nodded as he chewed, looking like he had something on his mind. I gave him a questioning look I knew he recognized and he spoke softly, "I've been thinking of getting shipped out."
I nearly choked on my fries. I swallowed, coughed, and spoke hoarsely, "What? But–but why?"
"Maybe I could do more good for Pandora than for Earth."
I pulled my hair behind my ears cautiously, chewing on my lip, "We're only in a slump, that's all! Once we get everyone back together"—
"Max," he set down his food and cupped my face in his hands, "the Flock is never going to get back together. Angel is on her way out already, Gazzy is likely to blow up the Statue of Liberty on 'accident' soon, Iggy and Nudge are perfectly happy in their lives. I've got plans!"
He paused for a split second.
"It's like the only one who hasn't moved on…is you."
I spluttered for words. I had so moved on! I had tried getting a job…but it'd mostly been activist work…I'd tried going to normal school but I'd gotten expelled for fighting. Maybe Fang was right…maybe I hadn't actually moved on. Maybe I was still Snap-Decision Max, caught in her teenage mindset of saving the world. But what the hell could I do about it? I was meant to save the world!
Wasn't I?
Fang kissed my forehead gently, most likely sensing that I was working myself up–probably because I made a face when I did–and smoothed down my hair. "We could go together. Just you and me, no Flock, on a whole new planet to start whole new lives. We could be drivers."
I shook my head and pulled away, "What if I miss my chance to save the planet just traveling out?"
"Max…" he groaned, turning away to face out toward the city lights. "When will you give up on this 'saving the planet' stuff? It's not going to happen, haven't you looked around? The planet has fallen to shit!"
"Everything deserves another chance!"
"We tried giving it another chance!" he argued quietly. I stood up, angered by this. We tried, but that had never worked because our Flock had fallen to pieces! I extended my wings to their full length, preparing to up-up-and-away.
"Will you not overreact this time?" he asked calmly.
"I'm not overreacting, if I stay, I just might, though."
"So leave. You know where I'll be. New York Stock Exchange, right where you met me this afternoon," he dead-panned. He didn't give a damn anymore, did he? World-weary just like Nudge and Angel. I growled softly and took off, not caring where I wound up.
That was the last time I'd seen Fang alive.
Someone's elbow digs into my ribs. I inhale sharply and look at my offendor to see the man who'd been adressing the new recruits looking down at me. The first thing that cleary stands out to me are the scars running along his scalp and down his face. I guess without the scars he'd be rather attractive. Another glance around the room reveals that we are the only two in the room aside from janitorial staff. I suddenly place his face. Miles Quaritch, the man I'd spoken with when I'd begun my training nine years previously.
"Would you like to tell me why you're still here Dolly Daydreamer?" he asks, stepping a bit closer to me, instilling the shock factor in the pit of my stomach.
I clear my throat. "Maximum Ride, we spoke once during my training." His gaze narrows. I'm going to have to clarify. "The winged chick."
He pauses, giving me the stink eye, which softens into slight approval. "The mutant. Do you know if your avatar has wings, Ride?"
"No, I saw indentations before I left Earth, though," I say cautiously, tracing my wing bumps with my right hand to indicate where I'd seen them. My avatar body had only been about sixteen then, however, which makes me nervous. "Permission to leave, Colonel Quaritch?" It takes a great amount of effort not to resort to my old ways of snarkiness.
"Granted," he nods, to which I reply with starting to leave and hoisting up my bag. "But Ride," I stop, "I'll have my eye on you. You have a compelling mix of DNA in that avatar body."
I'm suddenly glad my back is to him, because I've taken on a look of both fear and curiousity. What could he possibly care about that for. Was he trying to be nice? I seriously doubt it but there's always a chance.
"I know, sir," I reply and turn my head slightly over my shoulder.
"Good."
I hesitate and turn my head forward once more before rushing out. I needed to get with people I knew. If there was anything I was certain of it was there was safety in numbers.
