XXIII: Cave XII

Yawne's eyes drifted open; the hours repose hardly diminished his exhaustion, nor that or Peyral's laying next to him. They both seemed to waken at the same time, as if from a dream choked by a cloud of unstoppable emotional need. Though they both breathed calmly, the signs of exertion were all about them, sweat, foliage thoroughly trampled, fresh dirt clawed from the ground. Yawned ruggedly shifted his head to look at Peyral who stared up at the sky with a kind of car-accident look. "What, was that?" he asked. Peyral slowly turned to look at him, matching his expression of astonished confusion. "Not that I didn't enjoy- I mean, just, what was that?"

Peyral smiled kindly, but also looked at a loss, "I do not know my love."

Yawne turned his head back to the sky, "You were, touching the Stranger." Yawne observed without accusation. "Did he spit on you…?"

Peyral also turned her head to the sky and thought, "He did not, as he did with you and Jake…" Peyral turned her head slightly to the side, eyes narrowing, "But, I think, I recall a strange compulsion… to touch and be touched." She turned and looked at Yawne who was in turn looking at her. "I just felt such curiosity, and then a kind of rush-" Peyral motioned the palm of her had at her face, "-of loneliness and desire, as if I had not seen my dearest family for a lifetime. I wanted to be close to someone, anyone, and then you were there and the desire for you overwhelmed all else. It was not a thought, but a persistent command." Peyral said shyly, lid-ing her eyes.

Yawne felt his cheeks pull as he involuntarily smiled, "Has anyone told you how amazing you are today?"

Peyral blushed, looking away with a glow of happiness. For a moment that was all that mattered between them, then, Yawne remembered the world outside the peaceful clearing and looked back the way they came. "I remember the rush of terror when that powder struck me, that was a command too." Peyral looked at him with interest, Yawne wiggled his fingers in the soft soil. "Fear, Desire, both of these are emotions and both of them resulted from direct contact with the Stranger."

"And pain, my love." Peyral added. "Norm felt pain when the stranger touched him."

Yawne blinked, "IS pain an emotion? Well… it's a feeling I guess. Or…" Yawne looked to her suddenly, "…was it anger?" Peyral looked at him worriedly. Yawne breathed deeply and set his jaw, "Emotion is just thought, with a feeling, I know that from all my therapy years, and if touching the stranger can produce feelings with a corresponding thought…" Yawne paused, falling silent and distant in his gaze; letting his mind work over the pattern, the great puzzle that seemed to be the odd occurrences around the Stranger. Yawne's eye focused on nothing, yet remained sharp, "Emotion, feeling, thought… I'll bet my entire Marvel comic collection he can somehow control or at least project emotion through some kind of chemical contact which creates a feeling. Like, it's concentrated in the powder he spits, but it can be transferred through pore contact too, maybe through heightened senses of emotion. It's kind of like…"

Peyral looked at Yawne curiously, but didn't comment. She had seen him do this before far in the past, when the elders would ask him to council. It was remarkable to her, a skill she had not seen anyone else use so efficiently or consistently. He somehow stepped away from the troubles before him and saw as with the eyes of Ikran, even before he had actually been able to actually look through an Ikran's eyes. It was just one of his qualities she had come to respect and love about him. But. Yawne's face dropped and he sat up suddenly, groaning when his body reminded him the exertion from before would have a price. Peyral followed worriedly, "What is it, what troubles you?"

"The bond!" Yawne blurted, "It's like Tsaheylu only every inch of his skin is a neural tendril, I'd bet my Amazing Spider-man first edition!"

Peyral was stunned by the possibility, Tsaheylu? Through touch alone? What then, would happen if someone touched their tendrils to his bare skin? "My love, this is, amazing but what do you fear?"

Yawne finally got to his feet, face stark with the gravity of his words, "You said you felt a compulsion to touch him, right? Well, there is this theory, that the tendrils of the Queue release a pheromone, a kind of scent, so they can find each other and interlock, that is what causes them to wrap together when ever they are near each other."

Peyral whimpered as she got to her feet, eliciting a few pops of her joints. "What does this mean?"

Yawne helped her up, holding her shoulders, "It's possible, just possible, he could release those pheromones on a bodily scale."

Peyral suddenly understood, the mental images of the possibilities striking her instantly, "Then if we took him to the Omaticaya, they may all wish to touch him and then he could make them feel and think whatever he wished! Mind control?"

"Worse." Yawne said shortly, "It'd be inadvertent, he'd make them feel what he did, and if he feels as terrified and surrounded as Jake did his first time meeting the Omaticaya…"

The pair allowed the revelation to hang between them, astonished but glad in the moment they had figured something out before it was too late. Peyral breathed a deep sigh, "We shall have to warn the others, he can not be put into the midst of the clan now, to do so may bring disaster."

Yawne nodded, "We'll just have to let Mo'at meet him in private. Maybe that'll be easier for him." Yawne then took Peyral's hand lovingly, "Come on, we have to get back and tell the others. It's just a theory, but better safe than sorry right?"

…

Things were not going well. Jake and the others had landed well enough, Jen had to take off as soon as they touched down or risk loosing their only escape route. She would have to circle until Jake signaled for her with his hidden comm., or some other means that said the crap had hit the oscillating air temperature unit. Which had been a decent plan, and the mission had gone decently enough. They entered the rocky crags and canyons without confrontation; Neytiri led and stopped to read the foreign trails with interest, Paul went next, his power suit boots scraping against the rock even as he tried his best to be silent, and Jake followed from behind to keep watch and make sure they weren't ambushed. The ground was trampled stone here, soft as far as stone went, and the walls rose up and around them like teeth. They seemed to be walking through a lava tube that had hollowed and then cracked over the years, but it made a decent road, and the strange moss that seemed to cover everything silenced their foot steps. Still Jake knew as he breathed the strange smell of distant sulfur and ash, this was not their lands, and the Nekxtskxe would know it far better than they.

There were no words as they moved along, looking around them in the mid-day sun, the long shadows giving their surroundings a deep feel of menace. Neytiri stopped suddenly, crouched low, Paul stopped and whipped his head around. Jake flared his nostrils and his ears swiveled, but he didn't detect what she did. It was only after the six hidden Na'vi rose up all around them Jake had realized the faint ash smell was them, rubbed into their bodies so their scent would blend in with the surroundings; a very old hunter's trick. Six of them there were, all at least a foot taller than Jake and as thick as a professional body builder. Each of them were adored with gray markings, war markings Jake recognized, and trophies from proud kills. Bones, teeth, claws, the skin or wings, or other such adornments making them each distinct yet unifying them as a culture. These Na'vi wore body armor, earned from death.

They closed in like predators, crouched low, arrows drawn and spear tips unwavering. Their sudden appearance was so surprising no one had time to speak, and were silenced further by the tension of the moment. As if to speak would cause violence to erupt. Then it got weird. All six of them had slowed to covering positions, then locked their eyes solely on Paul. Their jaws were set, eyes wide and starring. For his role, Paul looked like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, chain saw rocking chairs. Jake could see his arms visibly shaking, and he knew things could go very badly if he didn't act. But before he could utter a word, one of the Nekxtskxe dropped his weapon to his side and slowly came forward. As one hypnotized, he moved inexorably forward with fingers outstretched. Paul remained absolutely still, with eyes the size of dinner plates as the blue fingers slowly touched his nose, and followed the contours.

The massive warrior traced the bridge, and then across the temple, like a wondering child. But then, his hand halted, his face hardened, as if realizing his actions and angered by his inability to understand them, his hand suddenly twisted, seizing Paul by the jaw and chin. Jake moved to intercept, intune with Neytiri on the opposite side, but then the five others flowed forward with weapons aimed. "We come in peace!" Jake shouted, but none listened as a spear as big as his forearm dug into his neck. Thankfully Paul didn't spit at the warrior who lifted him three feet off the ground and stared into his face, he moved only to grip the forearm which lifted him with ease. Jake thanked Eywa he was somehow keeping it together as the massive warrior inspected him. Neytiri was held still by three arrows around her neck, while the other Nekxtskxe watched the sixth with interest. But, the truly strange thing happened next. He sniffed Paul. Crushing Paul to him like a rag doll, Jake could only watch them in utter confusion.

The rest of the Nekxtskxe looked on silently as the Warrior seemed to breath in every part of Paul, sniffing his hair and rubbing his chin against his forehead. They didn't move a muscle. Then, like a spell was broken, the warrior pulled away- holding the frightened and confused Paul at arms length. The warrior looked awe-stuck, perhaps again at his actions, but, he didn't drop his miniature captive. He turned to the others and spoke in a dialect of Na'vi so thick and somewhat curled, Jake couldn't understand them. They laughed. Jake ran the words through his head, struggling with them, unused to the cadence or emphasis. But he recalled how they spoke when he first met them, and his mind pulled together the rhythm. 'This one scares me.' He'd said, and the others had laughed. Jake didn't know whether to laugh in relief or worry, instead, he cleared his throat. "Listen, alright, listen- we bring, a message, about the sky people, our common enemy."

The one holding the spear tip into his neck, growled. "You will not speak again."

Yet the one holding Paul turned to them, "No, he will speak, to the Olo'eyktan. He will tell why he has brought such a creature here, who fills me with a fear I have not known since boyhood." The Nekxtskxe looked at each other, and their companion holding the shivering Paul and slowly drew their weapons away ever so slightly. Stepping out of the way to form a path for the others to follow. The one beside Jake motioned with a jerk of his head for Jake to begin walking, Neytiri too was pushed to move forward, Paul was carried. Jake made sure to make eye contact with each of them, reassuring them as best he could. Neytiri was fiery defiance, as always, even going so far as to reassure Jake- but Paul looked like a leaf in the wind, unsure where he was, where he was going, why or how, but for the time being he simply went along. Jake hoped his luck would last. Then again, perhaps things were going as well as could be expected.

…

The grouped moved with measured ease across the solid rock and treacherous loose ash and dirt paths, their strides were powerful and commanding the distance, as if merely walking was a battle they planned to win. Jake and Neytiri, unaccustomed to the distance eating power stride could only settle into their jogging lope, the same short steps that gave them constant maneuverability in case their footing or balance should falter in the high trees. They were honed to move swiftly and change direction or height at a moment's notice; not so for the Nekxtskxe. Their lands were sweeping rock, curled and sharp, their legs pounded across the ground like men on stilts. They jumped across gaps using sheer power to leap from one vertical surface to another to the distance side. It was hard on Jake and Neytiri who were use to more organic and giving footing, but neither of them complained nor slowed. Paul, thankfully, was being carried over a shoulder and thus not expected to try and make the insane distances by footing alone, though, Jake wondered if in his power suit he could. Jake had too. They might have had to escape quickly and Paul couldn't be carried then.

The march continued, without rest or mercy, Jake and even Neytiri were long out of breath from adjusting to the new powerful motions- the possible intent of the Nekxtskxe who showed no signs of weariness- all the better to leave them weak and breathless before their leader. Jake grinned and bore it, setting his mind to the rhythm, just like he did when he had to learn Neytiri's jungle trot. Jake was fazed, but his training ate new experiences like this for breakfast He was a bit out of shape from the peace before people came back to Pandora, but he was always up for a challenge. Left right, left right, I don't know but I been told…soon Jake found himself able to appreciate the surroundings, tactically in case they needed to come back this way, and with an eye for beauty. There was life growing here, ash colored plants which shattered the rock with their roots, trees that lay on the ground as if some giant had squashed them, and of course the ash colored moss. It was everywhere, covering every inch, and ever now and again a mushroom like a fist would pop up here or there.

It was drab, and uniform, a grey lifeless kind of world- darker than even earth and all its neon. Jake did not wonder why the Nekxtskxe were such a hard people. Here he was reminded that Pandora was not just a moon, but a world. It had more sides to it than just the Omaticaya lands. The Nekxtskxe lived in the mountains regions, but there were probably oceanic, desert and even artic regions; each with their own peoples, cultural identities, and above all their own reasons for wanting to keep the home. Jake would have to find someway to bridge that gap, to make them aware of their common enemy… but would the Nekxtskxe believe him? Had they seen gunships before, or was theirs the first? Did they know of avatars? Jake tried to recall the past events, what was said and done, but all that greeted him were a haze of needless bloodshed and the strong memory of feeling what Yawne felt as he tried to bring himself back. Jake scavenged his brain for these facts, but the Nekxtskxe pace was overwhelming, and the ticking clock did not help.

Painfully aware of his surroundings, Jake found himself within a narrow tunnel, another lava tube but the sides were not worn smooth, they were jagged. A natural defense against great numbers trying to storm the Nekxtskxe home caves. The winding path split off into several different routes, but always moving deeper… it was not long before Jake realized they were long ago lost, if they had to escape, they might as well have been within a maze. They would be lucky to find their way out. The ceiling was low as well, Paul was being jostled so much upon the Na'vi's shoulder, his heel kept scraping the ceiling and nearly pitching him over the Na'vi's back. It was a horrible ordeal for him, Jake could tell, his face was set in a firm, emotionless- yet determined- grim mask. They might have a chance if they caused all of the Nekxtskxe to scatter with Paul's venom, but that would absolutely defeat the purpose of trying to recruit them. Unless they could somehow terrify the Nekxtskxe long enough to steal some of the so called 'fire rocks'…

Jake formulated this backup plan as they went along, the rhythmic scraping of Paul's heel keeping time as Jake concentrated. They would have to know first where the rocks were being held, then be able to spray the majority of the tribe down with Paul powder and not be affected by it themselves, and then once having loaded up enough of it, find a way out. . . . It was sketchy at best, and Jake didn't even know if Paul could produce enough venom, he may have even had a daily limit or something, but it was better than nothing… in fact it was all he had. Jake hoped it wouldn't come to that. With a sudden jolt to his senses, the mouth of the tunnel opened up. First into darkness, then, an expanse so vast, Jake felt oppressed by the emptiness. His hungry eyes picked up the red glow of torches… hundreds of them; they had arrived.