Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate the holiday, and those who do not, because any day is a good day to give thanks!

I have watched a lot of anime in-between the last time I updated, and I've slayed papers and tests with varying results. Gundam 00 and Hellsing Ultimate were my freetimes. I need to plan stuff for that :)

My current concern however, is this, so read on!

Chapter 14

Riker was sitting on the bedside. Another water tribe man was wrapping up a cut he sustained on his wrist with a cloth.

"So," the man began questioning, "What exactly happened up there? I saw some bright crimson flashes up there, unlike any firebending I have ever seen? Are you-"

"No," Riker definitively interrupted, "We are not firebenders."

The man looked down, apparently ashamed, he began attending to the cut once again.

Using technology like that was a dangerous tactic, but a necessary one. Picard's crew, except maybe Worf, had considerably less knowledge than the natives on proper hand-to-hand techniques, and they were at even more of a disadvantage with the bending techniques the natives, especially the firebenders possessed. Their technology allowed them to even out the odds, and even take advantage.

However, with the capture of Data, that advantage may not last them that long.

A sharp, pulling pain pulled Riker out of his thoughts. He had winced as the Water Tribe man had tightened his bandage.

"All set," the man said.

Riker thanked him and began moving out of the medical bunker. He would have to use his tricorder to see how much infection his wound would be getting with this primitive bandage. In situations such as these, he missed Doctor Crusher. He looked at the bunk Wesley was in. Wesley was not paying attention to his attendant, rather, he was looking at the ceiling. Riker heard others murmur that he was simply dazed, but his gaze was clear and focused. He was not looking at the ceiling, but at the sky through the ceiling, attempting to find his mother in the vast blackness of space.

...

"Report?" Geordi wearily groaned. Keeping the Enterprise together was becoming a strenuous activity in of itself.

"Our long range sensors have reported a celestial object headed this way."

Geordi's brow raised from under his visor. "Are we in danger?" he inquired.

"No, not at the moment, but measuring possible routes of the object, it could make contact with us in a couple of weeks."

Geordi furrowed his brow. A couple of weeks. The object was still very far out. But it just meant one more thing for Picard's crew to beat, whom they had lost all contact with. Life support and sensors were the only viable systems functioning, and they were needed to detect their friends' return, if they were ever to return, and to survive.

Geordi sighed. Weeks. That was all they had. And if not that, the ship would surely give out before that.

...

One day. Those words were made perfectly clear to Picard, as he sat in their crew's private quarters. Tomorrow would be the day he would have to risk everything for his crew, and for the people of this planet. Picard looked at his new bandages. These wounds would heal, but they would leave scars, remained etched in him for the rest of his life.

Picard slowly fell in to the comfort that he had adapted to of his bed. It was a small rudimentary thing, but it kept him asleep. He was going to need it for the invasion.

...

"No firelord ozai, you're not wearing pants!"

The kid was decked out in a completely different outfit, and he had ... hair. However, Picard was sure he was the Avatar he had communicated with.

The man he was addressing looked like a more comical version of this firelord Picard himself had seen in his dreams. And he was...

"No!" he exclaimed, "My royal parts are showing!" He then let out a blood-curtailing scream. Despite all this Picard snorted a chuckle.

He decided to speak up; "Am I interrupting anything?"

The kid jumped up in surprise.

"Uh-uh-uh wait what?" the kid stammered.

Picard chuckled. He was as he remembered him. Playful, innocent, burdened.

The kid's expression suddenly hardened. Picard knew why. He did not forget their last encounter.

"Why are you here?" he asked, "Are you just going to say that you have to deal with your own problems again?"

He looked down. It did not appear he was angry, just somber. However, Picard had decided on the answer he wanted to hear long before this dream began occurring.

"Don't worry, Aang, I am here to help."

The boy's face suddenly brightened at this statement. "Really?" he yelped in excitement, "Really? You're willing to help us? You're willing to help the drowning man, even though you have a broken leg?"

Picard scrunched is face in confusion before he remembered the boy made an allusion to their previous contact.

"Yes," Picard answered, "We have a couple of things to do before we can help you, though. Our ship, I hope you know, is in dire straits, and we need it fixed before we can help you."

Aang's expression for once, did not change. He knew that Picard was intent on keeping his word.

Picard continued, "Aang, do you believe in destiny?"

Aang looked a little confused for a moment. However, once the moment was past, he answered:

"I believe in destiny. I don't believe that we'll ever know ours. Why do you ask?"

"I believed destiny was some old concept. In our culture, we believe destiny, or something like it, is shaped by our everyday actions. We don't believe it is predetermined, and we don't believe some other power is controlling it. Yet, my ship was sucked into a vortex we had no business going into. Our ship was rendered useless, forcing us to come down here, and we've managed to get ourselves caught up in a war that is not exactly morally ambiguous. And the side we happen to be on is the side with the apparent moral high ground. Is this what it's like to be at the mercy of some greater power?"

"Spirits," Aang jumped in.

"What?"

"These greater powers you mention, we accept to be the spirits that watch over our world. As the Avatar, I serve as the bridge between them, and our world. They may have had a hand in this here."

"Anyway I can contact them? Maybe, after all of this is over, they can help us get back."

"The thing is, I don't exactly know if they were responsible. And if you didn't know, I'm only 12. I haven't really been able to consistently contact the spirit world."

Picard's face fell as Aang said this. He wanted to help these people. He also wanted to return home when all was said and done.

"Well," Picard concluded, "I won't know until the moment comes. Nowadays, I can never logically predict what's to come."

Picard looked up, the boy was twiddling his thumbs.

"Is there some other way, other than you, that I can use to contact these... spirits?"

Aang shrugged, "Pray, I guess, and have faith, even when all hope is lost."

Picard sighed. The same message, over and over again. Prayer. Faith.

Was he brought here to end a war? Or was this the start of something bigger with the Federation?

Picard didn't know, he would never truly know, until the time came.

"Land ho!"

Riker was shaken out of his morning glaze. His sight immediately focused on the large land mass ahead of two Fire Navy boats. It was a large bay-looking area. However, the team was far enough from the land that he could not make out specific details.

"Well," one of the water tribe men started, "We really shouldn't approach the Avatar in this disgusting vessel. Let's come to them in a real boat."

"Aww, really?" Riker responded. "I've kind of grown attached. It doesn't matter where she was made, or what purpose she was meant for. She sheltered us, she kept our food warm, she helped us get this far. Besides, did I miss something? I didn't think we had enough room for..."

As Riker's voice trailed off, the main hull of the boat opened, revealing two smaller wooden boats in the interior of the large boat.

How the heck did we even have enough room for stuff like that? And what the heck? Why wasn't I informe? Us futureish people have way less communication problems!

"Last one on the boat's rotten seal blubber!"

Yikes, I do not like the sound of that. Riker then scrambled to the deck entrance to go down below to the main hull.

...

Captain Picard permanently removed the red disguise of the Fire Nation. All sneaking and subterfuge was over. The real fight was about to begin.

Picard had stripped down to his starfleet uniform. It was Red, like the Fire Nations. Picard studied it. In the history of the human race, there was always conflict like this. People wanted power, wanted freedom, fought for their God, or just loved to fight. These reasons were nothing. They were just tools for the same conclusion: war. It would never end until one side won, or both gave up. There would be always different reasons for fighting a war, any reason could be used to fight one.

Was he, Picard, a warmonger? He was about to bear the fangs of the Federations technology at a bunch of primitive, yet gifted, Napoleons. He would introduce the people of this world, the horror of the phasers, which disintegrate everything in sight. He would turn hills into mere molecules that could be breathed in the air. It illogical to pursue this course of action. It was idiotic.

It was also right. The people of the world were clearly in need from a tyrannical empire. Picard had seen the carnage himself. He was the outsider looking in.

Picard stepped into the boat. He had been unconsciously making his way towards the new boat he would board. He was on the level even with the top most deck. Picard quickly strode onto the boat.

"Everyone aboard?" asked Tyro.

"Yes sir," replied one of the water tribe men.

"Ah, Picard!" Tyro exclaimed as he spotted the buret-sporting captain.

"It's your turn to lead, Captain." Tyro stated with a smirk.

"I really don't captain boats," Picard responded, but, smiling in anticipation, walked up to the back of the deck, to the raised level, and stood in the center. The sight was almost nostalgic.

"Lower the docking cl- I mean, detach us from the main hull," Picard ordered.

The ship fell a couple of feet as Picard's order was fulfilled. The main hull had filled with water, and the water was about even with the opening.

"Take us out," Picard said, finishing his order with a smile.

Picard shielded his eyes with his forearm as the sun peaked out over the horizon. The sunrise signaled a new beginning.

He knew the sunset would be tainted with red.

Sorry that this is a shorter chapter, but I wanted "Day of Black Sun" to coincide with the upcoming chapters, and I didn't have much in terms of filler content.

I plan to do a double-update for when I release those chapters, which are currently swimming in my mind as concepts.

Review if you want. If not, drool like a hungry puppy for the upcoming chapters!kidding