Chapter 20: Misdirection

"Max! Terminators!"

The curly-haired tech gave a grunt, struggling up from the Link Lab floor. With a kick, he sent his toolbox skidding under a table, hopefully well out of sight. Although the link pods had been designed to transmit high-density data streams over long distances, modifying one to serve as a radio was no easy task. Doing so with an exopack on, in dim red emergency lighting, with only one working arm, was much harder. Add in the fact that he had to do all of this while avoiding the security camera's field of view, and Max was working under enough pressure to crush a submarine.

As Max straightened up, trying to look inconspicuous, a pair of human-sized Terminators entered the lab module. "All humans will assemble here at once," the twin robots announced in unison: a deep male voice, with some kind of Germanic accent. Austrian, maybe?

Hesitantly, Matt, Louise, Angie, and the other scientists made their way over. "What do you want?" Matt snapped. "We're busy holding our breaths here, after you cut off our air supply."

The Terminator on the left fixed him with a blood-red glare. "We require information," it stated bluntly. "Our scout units report that the Omaticaya clan has vacated its main population center. You will provide us with the location of the Omaticaya clan's emergency shelter. In exchange, we will reconnect this module to the command node's air, sewage and electrical systems."

"You expect us to tell you where the Na'vi are?" Naomi exclaimed. "Screw you, asshole!"

The Terminator on the right turned toward her. "Our T-XN unit has allowed you to remain in this module, for the purpose of providing information on Pandora and its inhabitants. Fulfill your function, and your needs shall be met. If you do not perform your function, then you will be terminated immediately. You have thirty seconds to comply."

A deathly silence settled over the assembly. Though outnumbered, nobody doubted that these two robots could kill them all – and even if the scientists somehow managed to overpower them, there were plenty more where they had come from.

Glancing over at Max, Louise took a deep breath. "Look," she said, trying to sound diplomatic. "If they're not at Hometree, we don't know where they are. Jake has never mentioned building any kind of shelter, and we've never asked about it. If you would just leave them alo—"

With inhuman speed, one of the Terminators reached out, wrapping its icy metal fingers around Louise's throat. "Your response is unsatisfactory," replied the Machine. "Your termination will serve as a warning to the other humans."

"W-wait! WAIT!" Max shouted, running over to the Machines. "I'll tell you how to find the Na'vi, just please, let her go!"

Angie's eyes widened in horror. "Max, no! Don't tell them!"

The Terminator glanced at Max, then back at the writhing human female in its grasp. "Your proposal is acceptable." Opening its hand, it let the female drop unceremoniously to the floor, gasping and gagging as she fought for breath. Then, fixing its glowing optics on Max's good eye, the Machine commanded him, "Speak."

The bandaged, broken human seemed to fold in on himself. "All right," he murmured. "About a month ago, we developed a portable ECM unit for the Na'vi. It masks their bioelectric and infrared signatures, letting them hide their camp from satellites and air patrols."

"How do we locate this device?" growled the Machine.

Max hesitated, then sighed in defeat. "It's mobile – they could have set it up anywhere by now, then made camp around it. It's designed to show up as a quartzite deposit on sensors. There are so many in this area, we thought it would help the jamming field seem like a natural phenomenon."

"You goddamn traitor!" snarled Matt. The taller Avatar driver tried to rush his comrade – until the second Terminator stepped into his path. Grabbing his injured shoulder, the Machine spun him around and threw him against the wall. The man cried out in pain, then slumped to the floor.

Meanwhile, the lead Terminator's gaze remained locked on Max. Voice-stress and body language were parsed through dozens of algorithms – and passed every test Skynet had ever devised. "Your honesty and forthrightness are … admirable, Dr. Patel," it said, switching from the deep Austrian accent to Serena Kogan's softer voice. "It seems our prototype unit was right to retain your services."

As the Machine spoke, a quiet hissing could be heard: fresh atmosphere, being pumped into the module as the old air was sucked out. Moments later, the lights switched from emergency red to their normal, calming blue color. "Your module has been reconnected to the base's power plant and sewage system. Continued access to air, water and electricity will be contingent upon your continued usefulness."

With the clank of metal feet on deck plates, the pair of Terminators turned around, just as the entry hatch hissed open. The moment they had passed through, the heavy steel portal slid shut, locking itself with a loud metallic clank.

Grunting in pain, Matt picked himself up off the floor, as Max sat down heavily in a computer chair. "Max!" he snarled. "You goddamned, crazy bastard!" Stalking over to the bandaged tech, the Avatar driver stood over him, blocking the security camera … and gave his friend a grin. "How'd you do that? I mean, I thought for sure…."

With Matt blocking the camera's view, Max offered a tired smile. There was no magic sensor-scrambling device – not that Jake would need one, hidden beneath a layer of bedrock. "I'm an Activist, remember? How many RDA spooks and lie detectors do you think I had to get past before they let me get on one of their starships? Nice acting, by the way – for a second there, I really thought you were gonna come over and throttle me."

Louise walked over, turning her back to the camera. From behind, her playful punch must have looked like she was slugging Max in his injured shoulder. "Max Patel, interstellar superspy extraordinaire!"

"Yeah, great," Naomi murmured, taking off her rebreather mask. "Skynet plugs us back in, then turns around and terminates us the minute it catches on."

Max shrugged. "I figured, they were going to kill us anyway. Now, Skynet will be busy tracking down every quartzite deposit in the region. That should keep it chasing its tail long enough for us to hotwire the cameras and contact Jake."

Glancing nervously behind her, Louise saw the blinking red light on the overhead camera. "Good," she muttered. "The sooner we don't have these things looking over our shoulders, the happier I'll be."

As Jake walked through the caverns, he watched the Omaticaya prepare for war. The raid's success had clearly boosted morale; everyone was working, many forgoing sleep so that they could get more done.

Dozens of Rumut slingshot launchers were ready, and more were coming, as the weavers worked tirelessly to help the war effort. Bone, wood and tree sap were bonded together to make shields. Teams of skilled craftsmen worked to assemble flexible suits of light body armor – while it seemed plasma bolts could burn through anything, at least the warriors would have some protection from shrapnel and flying debris.

Even so, Jake couldn't shake a feeling of foreboding. Skilled and determined though they were, there were only two hundred warriors in the Omaticaya clan. Some of the other clan members had been volunteering – weavers, healers, none of them trained for combat. Even with their help, though, the Machines would have a decided numerical advantage – while it took years for Na'vi warriors to grow, learn and train, Marcus claimed that fresh Terminators could be manufactured in minutes.

Inspecting the clan's weapons cache, Jake sighed. Over the past year, Max and the Hell's Gate rebels had been using the base's stereo-lithography plant to supply the Na'vi clans with modern weaponry. There were enough guns for every warrior, including the new recruits. Jake had seen just how ineffective human weapons were against Terminators, though.

Next to the stockpile of RDA-designed weaponry and ammunition, the small pile of Terminator plasma guns looked downright pathetic. Sure, the silver guns looked impressive individually, but there were far too few of them to arm everybody – and as Norm had explained, none of them was fully charged.

"I've never much liked guns," a voice said from beside him. Turning, Jake saw Txantslusam, the clan's chief armorer. The old man met his gaze solemnly, his golden eyes bright and full of knowledge. "You worry that they will not be enough to win the battle."

Jake sighed. "They'll help," he admitted, "but the tiny rocks they fire aren't hard enough to break our enemies' bones. Their armor is too strong. We'll have to get in close, and even then, their weak spots are so small that only our best warriors can even touch them. We have enough lightning guns for one out of every five warriors, but everyone else…."

The old man nodded. "Yes, so I've heard. Some of my apprentices came back telling stories of the Bones-That-Walk – how they gleam in the sun, and not even Sky People weapons can kill them. I will admit it, Olo'eyktan, it gave me quite a scare when first I heard such things."

Reaching into a small pouch at his waist, the old man pulled out an arrowhead. As Jake accepted it, he noticed that the object had a curious silver color. "A long time ago, I went with a trade caravan to visit the Fngap tribe, far to the north. Their weapon-makers have a curious practice: they do not use fire to temper their blades as we do. Instead, they search out special silver rocks, then heat them until they run like water. As the stone cools, they pour it into molds. After they hammer the blades to toughen them, the results are even harder and more durable than tempered stone."

Txantslusam gave a chuckle. "Of course, the Fngap armorers were no fools," he said. "They never would tell me which stones they looked for to make their blades, so I was never able to copy their technique. But when you brought the bodies of the Bones-That-Walk back with you, I decided to try a little experiment."

Jake's eyes widened, realizing what the old man was saying – and why the arrowhead gleamed like polished chrome. "This is…!"

Txantslusam nodded, his wizened face stretched into a grin. "Three fingers from a Bone-That-Walked, melted down to make an arrow's blade. I thought you might want to test it."

Still reeling from shock, Jake fumbled for one of his arrows. Untying the thin, tough cords that bound head to shaft, he replaced the gray stone arrowhead with Txantslusam's shiny new one. Fully assembled, the new arrow seemed to glow, its tip reflecting any light that touched it. "Outstanding," Jake murmured, holding the new weapon in his hands. Turning to the old man, he said, "Come with me."

After a few minutes' searching, Jake found Neytiri, helping a group of weavers to assemble a Rumut weight-harness. "My Neytiri, do you mind if I borrow your spear?"

Neytiri glanced over at her weapon, laying on the cave floor behind her. After the battle at Old Hometree, she had incorporated her trophy – the severed Terminator skull – into the back end of her spear as a club. "If you need it, take it. You want the head?" she asked.

"Yeah, for target practice." Finding a soft spot in the cave floor, Jake planted the spearhead firmly into the soil, letting the gleaming silver skull stand upright like some demonic totem pole. Then Jake stepped back, drawing his bow and nocking the new silver arrow. Just as Neytiri had taught him all those months ago, Jake took a ready stance. Using all his strength, Jake drew the two-meter weapon back, took aim, and fired.

The new arrow struck the Terminator head right between its eyes – and punched straight through it. All eyes turned to see the monstrous metal skull rocking back and forth on its pole, Jake's arrow sticking halfway out its back side.

"I'll be damned," Jake said in English, gaping at the sight. "An armor-piercing arrowhead!" Turning back to his chief armorer, he asked, "How many of these can you make?"

The old man smiled. "You were wise to bring back all of the Bones-That-Walked, Olo'eyktan. Once the molds are made, and our forges are made hot enough to melt their bones, we should be able to make arrow, spear and knife blades. The arrows may not fly as far as Sky People bullets or lightning bolts, but in the hands of the People, they will kill Machines. If you will give us permission to melt them all down, the apprentices and I will have enough material to arm the entire clan."

"Permission granted," Jake replied, retrieving his arrow from the back of its target. The silver arrowhead still gleamed, not even a scratch marring its perfect metal blade. "Just make sure that you talk to Norm and Marcus before you take their bodies apart. Those monsters still have some useful pieces, besides just the bones. We'll need to take everything we can get out of them."

Txantslusam bowed. "I hear you, Olo'eyktan. We will turn the Machines' own strength against them." Turning around, the old man made his way out toward the armorers' cavern.

As Jake slid the new arrow into the carry-strings on his bow, Neytiri walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think this is the first time since the battle that I have seen you smile," she whispered.

"Yeah, well, we finally have an effective weapon that everyone in the clan can use." He turned toward his mate, giving her his familiar lopsided grin. "I know you won't complain, right?"

Neytiri shook her head. "You know why I use Father's bow instead of Sky People weapons," she said quietly. "He made me promise to use it, to protect the People." Reaching out, she ran her fingers over the cool, gleaming new arrowhead. "It is good that I will still be able to honor him, even against these new enemies."

Jake nodded, taking her long, delicate hand in his. "It is," he said. "He'd be proud of you, you know."

"So Mother says," Neytiri answered with a smile. "As I know he is very proud of you, My Olo'eyktan."

The two of them laid their weapons down, still gazing lovingly into one another's eyes. Then they sat with the weavers, helping their People prepare for the defense of their world.