Spying on Quaritch and Failing

18

Quaritch hated this. He kicked a side a rock, it rolling off and hitting the metal fence. He hated being caged in like this. He felt like a wild animal in a tiny circus cage. He hated it. He hated it. God, did he hate it. His hands were placed in his pockets, looking outside, longing to be out there. Men and women alike were securing the grounds, wind gushing when a Scorpion landed, and they all moved aside for it. Dust kicked up, and several men jumped off, one rushing to the slightly dazed colonel.

"Sir!" he called.

Quaritch glanced up, his face stern. He looked at the man before him, and he was wearing a startled expression. "What is it?" he inquired.

"It's Samantha," the man breathed, bending over, his hands on his knees.

"What about her?"

"She got lost in the forest—we can't find her."

The clone arched his eyebrow. "Really?" he asked. "Okay, okay, son, calm down." He placed his firm hands on the trembling boy's shoulder. "I'll look for her."

"Thank you, sir," he breathed, his voice trembling.

Quaritch roughly patted the man's shoulder. "Good, get me my gun," he growled.

The boy nodded, rushing to the gun-hold. In the background, the newbie-spy hid, watching the clone with heated eyes. The man came back, holding a gun. Quaritch took it, and approached the Scorpion. He jumped in, yelling: "Move!"

"We're going to the area where she was last seen," the pilot stated.

"Then go."

The aircraft turned up, moving into the air. The spy glanced up, determined to follow. He grabbed his gun, and several rounds of bullets, placing it on his person. He took a jeep, starting it up. He left the safety of Hell's Gate, and into the dangerous wilderness of Pandora, following the Scorpion from below. Quaritch grabbed a pair of binoculars, looking out into the forest below him.

"Is this were you last saw her?" he demanded.

"No, further up!" called the pilot.

The machine made a sharp turn, going further into the forest. Below, the spy tried his hardest to keep up without making himself known. Fifteen minutes into the flight, the aircraft descended into the forest. Animals dashed away, frightened by the metal monster. Quaritch jumped out, glancing around. The trapped pilot (he was incased in his Scorpion; for breathing reasons, of course) then called: "I saw her over there!" He pointed to the east.

Quaritch glanced over to the east, and ran that way. Samantha was his best soldier—he wished that she was not dead. When the clone vanished within the thicket, the roar of an engine could be heard. The pilot glanced to his right, watching a land vehicle bounce over a hump, moving over to the Scorpion. The man stood up in the jeep.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked.

The pilot looked at the man, waving slightly. "Um, hey," he greeted.

"Okay, bye," the man stated.

The pilot watched as the man jumped from his jeep, and scurried into the forest. Meanwhile, Quaritch had his weapon in hand, glancing around the area. All the trees looked the same. All the plants looked identical. He went over to a tree, pulling out a tracking device, and placed it on a tree. He did that every five minutes. He was deep in the jungle, his weapon high. There was a growling sound, and he whipped around. He aimed his gun high, glancing around. The leaves shuffled, and animal laughter could be heard. Quaritch's memory kicked in. He knew those sounds.

Viperwolves.

One jumped, snarling and foaming at the mouth. Another one was soon to follow, growling and spitting. He soon was surrounded. I thought these things hunted at night? he screamed in his head. One from behind launched itself, attacking the clone. Quaritch knocked it over, shooting it. It whined as it died. Another was soon to follow, attacking the clone. He gritted his teeth, shooting at rapid speed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he cried, shooting the animals. "Eywa ngahu! Eywa ngahu!"

The Viperwolves squealed in pain, dying at the first contact of the bullets. The spy, meanwhile, heard the firing. He walked through the thicket, and one of the Viperwolves turned to him. It snarled and spat. Soon he was being chased by it, rushing away from the scene. He shot them all, and bodies of the alien creatures lay on the grass, blood seeping from their wounds. Quaritch looked at them, his breath hard. He lowered his gun, inching over to them. With the barrel of his gun, he gently jabbed the Viperwolf's body. It was dead.

"Eywa ngahu," he breathed.

He snapped his head up, and continued on. The clone jumped over a pool of collected rain water, and glanced around. "Samantha!" he called.

Just then there was a rustle. Quaritch snapped his head up, his gun following after him. A large blue body jumped from the canopy above, landing about three feet in front of him. Tu'sky. She was smiling widely at him. She was crouching, her tail flicked. "Kaltxì," she greeted.

Quaritch's hand went to his chest, sighing. "Kaltxì," he returned.

"You learn well."

Quaritch smirked at her. Then his eyes widened. He just remembered that there might be a spy following around him. He waved his hand. "Go," he called. "Get out of here." He turned, and rushed forward.

Tu'sky blinked, confused. "Why? What I do?" she asked, her hands flew to her chest.

Quaritch stopped, turning to look at her. Her ears were low, and she searched his face. He shook his head. "No, no, it is not you," he breathed. "Selfridge has sent a spy to watch out for me. I think he might be here now. Now, get out."

The female Na'vi nodded her head, fully understanding what he meant. "You find girl over there," she stated, pointing a head.

The clone looked at her, and looked to where she was pointing. When he turned back to where she was—she was gone. He saw her in a tree, going back to the village. Quaritch blinked, watching her leave. He went the way she pointed. The spy, however, was struggling with that one Viperwolf that singled him out. It snapped at him, and the spy smacked the creature with the butt of his machine gun. The creature hissed, giving up on the human, scuttling off. His comrades were dead—no reason to try to kill. The spy sat up, brushing the dirt off of him.

"Gotta stalk the clone," he told himself. "Get big bucks."

He stood up, and rushed off towards the direction where the clone was at. The clone glanced around, calling: "Samantha! Samantha!"

Quaritch rushed, glancing around for his best soldier. He jumped over a log, and then he saw her. She was still on the ground, trembling. The pant leg was ripped open, and the wound was bleeding profusely. He strapped his gun to his person, and rushed over to her, scooping her up bridal style. She whimpered, clinging to her injured leg. She glanced up.

"Sir?" she weakly called.

He hushed her. "Calm down, soldier," he grunted.

She whimpered, her blood rolling down his arm. He held her tightly, and rushed back to where the Scorpion was located. The spy soon realized that his job was done, and he rushed back to his jeep. That would be a while. The snarling sounds. Quaritch growled. "Not again," he snarled.

"The Viperwolves," whimpered the woman in his strong arms.

He kneeled down gently, placing her on the ground. He pulled out his gun, aiming it at to whatever was coming. A creature jumped at him, snarling. Another set of Viperwolves. He fired his weapon, killing off the first one. An arrow seemingly materialized, hitting a Viperwolf. He glanced up, seeing Tu'sky high in the trees. She had another arrow drawn, looking at the humans below. Quaritch smirked up at her, picking up Samantha, and rushed. Tu'sky followed, shooting the Viperwolves, protecting them until they reached the end of the thick bushes. The Na'vi female was long gone by now. The clone soon found himself at the Scorpion (the spy was gone only minutes before).

"I found her!" Quaritch called.

"Good!" the pilot stated.

The clone placed Samantha into the flying craft. "Okay, go," he ordered. The Scorpion lifted into the air, and the clone started to bandage the soldier's wounded leg.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He looked at her with a smile. "Of course," he breathed, bandaging the leg more tightly.

"Hey, sir," called the pilot.

"Yes?"

"It was the weirdest thing—a man in a jeep followed us, and rushed off before you came back. Odd, right?"

Quaritch blinked, his face turning into a scowl. In his gut, he knew it was the spy. "Yeah, odd," he grumbled.

The clone comforted his best soldier, placing a pillow under her head. "Thank you, sir," she grumbled as he placed a blanket over her body.

He smirked down at her, patting her shoulder. "Just get some damn rest," he ordered her gently.

Medical nurses rushed to the Scorpion went it landed. Quaritch gently picked her up bridal style, handing her to the other humans, who then laid her on a stretcher. "Viperwolf bite," reported the clone.

Rajian was there, pulling up the blanket, looking at the wound. He grimaced. "Ouch, ouch, that hurts," he whispered, placing the blanket back over the soldier. He turned to the others. "Get her to the hospital ward."

Quaritch watched as she was being wheeled away. Rajian briefly smiled at the clone before, and then followed the hurt soldier into the hospital ward. The clone sighed, rubbing at his neck. He was just bored. Quaritch just wanted to see the Na'vi. At least they were interesting. But RDA . . . the same thing over and over and over again. He hated it. Quaritch walked into the building, waiting for the beep of the machine to signal him that it was okay to remove his mask. He took it off, and walked into the building. He rubbed his shoulder, sighing.

"Miles!"

Quaritch turned, looking at his boss. Selfridge was beaming like the cat that caught the mouse. The clone looked at the business man, who wrapped an arm around the shoulders, as if they were best buddies. Quaritch twitched under the touch.

"Yes, Mr. Selfridge?" he asked. What does he want? He hates me.

"I have a favor to ask for you," he stated.

"What?"

"Could you check up on the weapons?" Selfridge inquired, turning to look at the clone.

Quaritch looked at the rich business man. "Of course," he stated. He shrugged. "No problem."

Selfridge nodded, patting the clone on the shoulder. "Good man," he stated. "And thank you." The business man walked to his office, his spy waiting for him in the office. His uniform was tattered, and mud covered his body. Selfridge looked up and down at the man before him. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Viperwolves," groaned the man.

"Ah. So, what happened with the clone?" he asked, closing the door.

"Nothing. I saw nothing. He just helped a fellow soldier."

Selfridge tapped his desk with his index finger. "Well, okay, good," he stated. "But not good enough." He glanced up at the soldier. "I've thought about it, and thought about it—we've got to show the Na'vi who the boss is."

"What do you suggest?" the soldier inquired, dusting off his sleeves.

"I suggest we sneak-attack them."

"Okay, should Colonel Quaritch know?"

"Hell no!" snapped Selfridge. "I know that he is connecting with the Na'vi, just like Jake Sully did. Worthless hunk of skin. I wish I never bought that clone."

"Then how are we going to do this?"

"Well, tell the other soldiers. We'll attack them in two days. Tell every soldier."

"And Quaritch?"

Selfridge smirked broadly, sitting down in his seat and toying with a pen. "I'll handle him."

Eywa ngahu—Good-bye, Eywa, be with you.