The day had finally arrived, the culmination of their anticipation and anxious suspense. The team had been waiting for this moment, knowing that it would be a pivotal turning point in their lives. As they gathered in the cold room, dressed in identical hospital gowns, the atmosphere was thick with nervous energy.
Brown, the first to be called, tried to conceal his trembling hands by clenching them tightly. The technicians guided him to a separate room where his Avatar awaited, prepared to receive his consciousness. The rest of the team watched a mixture of worry and hope in their eyes. Mansk, known for his stoicism, broke his usual demeanour and placed a comforting hand on Brown's shoulder, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips.
With a nod of determination, and then he was off.
The remaining team members sat in silence, their collective thoughts consumed by a cascade of uncertainties. What would the experience be like? Would they hear their comrade cry out in pain? How would it feel to have their consciousness transferred? Would there be any pain involved? Would they be aware of the process or would they simply awaken in a new body, forever disconnected from their original self? The weight of these questions and the countless possibilities of what could go wrong loomed over them, casting a shadow of fear and doubt.
They were embarking on an uncharted path, diving headfirst into the depths of the unknown, and the sheer magnitude of the moment had them trembling.
What had felt like forever had passed, before Brown came back, all tall and blue and relieved. The team collectively exhaled, a wave of tension dissipating. Ja and Lopez stood up, their hands clasping, and chuckles escaped their lips. Even Lopez managed to crack an unexpectedly funny joke, breaking the tense atmosphere and allowing a moment of levity to wash over the room. It was a welcome respite after the intensity they had just experienced.
The scientist holding a clipboard called out, "Fike, Sean?"
Sean rose from his seat with a sigh, projecting a false confidence as he walked across the room. He glanced over his shoulder, exchanging a nod with his teammates, bidding them a temporary farewell as he prepared to take the plunge into the unknown.
And so, one by one, they were summoned, each team member strutting forward with an air of feigned confidence and cocky smiles. The room became a revolving door of anticipation and departure.
Ja, Brady.
Brady stood with an air of self-assuredness, striding forward as if he were walking the red carpet, a hint of a grin playing on his lips.
Lopez, Aaron.
Following in Brady's footsteps, Aaron exuded bravado, his departure mirroring that of his comrade. When he returned, his arms raised triumphantly, a silent celebration of a successful transition.
Mansk, Malikai.
True to his stoic nature, Malikai silently followed the scientist, his gaze fixed forward without a backward glance. Before leaving, he handed his sunglasses to Zhang, a gesture that felt like a farewell. Upon his return, Zhang returned the sunglasses, but his shoulders slumped, the weight of the moment settling upon him.
Prager, Colin.
With a wink and a cheeky smile, Colin left the room, exuding playful confidence. When he came back, that same smile remained, radiating a sense of accomplishment.
Wainfleet, Lyle.
Lyle didn't save them any fanfare, striding across the room and disappearing behind the double doors without any look back. He came back the same way, silent and guarded.
Walker, Amara.
Amara hesitated, her lip caught between her teeth, while Aaron urged her forward, his giant blue hand resting on her back, gently pushing her from her seat. When she emerged after the procedure, her shoulders slumped with relief, and she shared a smile of gratitude with Aaron, offering a nod in acknowledgment.
Warren, Garret.
As Garret left the room, the team's attention was drawn to the absence of Brady. Worried glances were exchanged, hushed whispers speculating on his whereabouts. No one had the answer to the question that hung in the air: Where was Brady? Garret returned to a room filled with low murmurs, everyone bombarding him with inquiries about Brady. Regrettably, he had no information to provide.
Zhang, Erik.
Erik remained seated, his eyes glazed over as he stared intently at the closed double doors. Unaware of the scientist calling his name, Erik seemed lost in his thoughts. Finally, the scientist approached him, clicking their fingers in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance. Guided by the scientist's touch on his shoulder, Erik followed them through the dreaded double doors.
Zidarnsk, Nadia.
With a confident sway of her hips, Nadia sashayed out, exuding assurance in every step. She knew she would return; she was determined to ensure it.
Once all the team members had embarked on their individual journeys, they found themselves reunited in the room, their eyes fixated on the double doors. Each member had entered, but only ten had emerged.
The absence of Brady remained an unsettling presence, a lingering void that couldn't be ignored. The team's suspicions were confirmed when a different scientist emerged from the double doors, their expression sombre and laden with sorrow. Without uttering a word, they conveyed the news that had been silently expected by everyone.
Brady didn't make it.
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The machinery whirred and clanked incessantly in the vast expanse of the giant warehouse, tirelessly toiling away on ships, mech suites, and the skeletal beginnings of colossal structures. The resounding echoes of human voices reverberated through the air, intermingling with the clamour of the machinery. Amidst the cacophony, the humans shouted over the noise, their voices filled with authority, lighthearted banter, and laughter as if their purpose in life was to navigate this bustling realm of industry. Quaritch, his eyes wide with awe, surveyed his surroundings, his admiration concealed beneath a veil of secrecy. He marvelled at the unwavering pace they maintained, acutely aware that during his human days, the RDA had never progressed with such remarkable swiftness.
A human Private approached, jogging briskly to keep up with the Recombinant Colonel and his Corporal, their long strides propelling them forward. "Sir, this is the General," the Private announced, panting slightly as he relayed the message.
Drawing closer, they encountered General Ardmore engrossed in a relentless assault on a punching bag, her skel suit enhancing her blows and kicks. Quaritch respectfully approached General Ardmore and saluted her, his voice resonating with admiration as he maintained a forward gaze.
"General Ardmore," Quaritch greeted, his voice laced with respect and admiration.
"Welcome back, Colonel. Good to finally meet you in person," the General greeted, sticking out the hand of her skel suit, grasping the large blue hand of the Colonel, giving a firm shake. She nodded at Lyle in acknowledgement, having already met on several occasions where she had updated him on the Colonel's progress, and Lyle did the same, reporting to the General about the progress his team was making on the handling of their Avatars. He returned the gesture, chewing on the gum he had swiped from Z-Dog, blowing a bubble before it popped, sharp and loud, loud enough to be heard over the noise of construction around them.
"Glad to be back," said Quaritch in lieu of a greeting, eyes looking curiously around him. "Quite the set-up you have here, General."
A prideful smirk appeared on Ardmore's face as she turned to observe the construction site. "Right you are, Colonel. I'm quite proud of it myself."
The Colonel nodded, running his tongue over his newly acquired sharp incisors, still adjusting to their presence. He spoke cautiously, mindful of avoiding unintentional bites to his tongue or cheek. "I've heard good things, but a lot has changed since your last tour here. Walk with me," Ardmore instructed, waving her hand to signal Quaritch and Wainfleet to follow.
Exiting the oxygenized hangar, they ventured into the expansive construction yard. There, the General showcased an array of swarm assemblers diligently at work. These robotic, spider-like machines scaled the skeletal structures of colossal buildings, pointing upward to display their remarkable progress. Ardmore elaborated, her voice resonating with pride, "The new ops centre is over here. It just came online." She waved her hand at a pair of passing assemblers and continued, "These are swarm assemblers. They can put up a building in six days. We have accomplished more here in a year than in the previous 30 years."
As they departed from the bustling construction yard, the workers paused their tasks to offer salutes to the passing General. Ardmore emphasised, "We're not here to run a mine, Colonel. As On-World Commander, I have been charged with a greater mission."
Entering an aircraft hangar, they beheld massive airships being intricately 3D printed by equally enormous machines. The swarm assemblers scurried along the outside, welding the disparate pieces together. Walking along a suspended metal walkway, Quaritch peered over the edge, observing the diligent work of the diminutive spider bots. He redirected his attention towards the General, who had somehow procured a cup of coffee. Ardmore took a sip, her demeanour solemn, as she spoke with conviction, "Earth is dying. Our task here is to tame this frontier. Nothing less than to make Pandora the new home for humanity. But before we can do that, we need to pacify the hostiles."She took another sip of her coffee, her tone resolute.
Pressing forward, the General continued to guide them, unveiling the new and upcoming facilities that were still in the process of being finalised. Quaritch effortlessly matched the General's pace, the skel suit granting her elongated strides and allowing him to maintain eye contact without the need to glance downwards as he did with the other humans.
Moving to the admin area, not far away from where Lyle had gotten the order to take Quaritch out on a field test a few days prior. They were surrounded by holographic screens, each displaying footage from previous raids done by the native Na'vi clans. Quaritch stood in front of one, watching as several warriors surrounded a burning train, their spears held high as the road away on their six-legged mounts, no doubt hollering in their victory.
Turning towards Quaritch, Ardmore locked eyes with him, her gaze unwavering and stoic. "You, Colonel, have also been tasked with a new mission," she declared, her voice carrying a sense of gravity. "You are to locate and capture the leader of the Na'vi rebellion, Jake Sully. He is to be brought back to Bridgehead City alive, and I won't have him as anything but."
Quaritch nodded, his mind already working on devising a strategy to apprehend the elusive traitor. "Sully has been orchestrating these attacks for quite some time now, launching periodic strikes against us. Thus far, we have been unable to discern a discernible pattern in the attacks. In fact, most of them seem random. However, we recently discovered that they have been targeting our supply shipments, seizing whatever they can."
"Sully's raids have grown bolder and more frequent. His strikes exhibit meticulous planning," Ardmore interjected, joining Quaritch in front of the display. She then gestured toward another screen, showcasing a human soldier impaled by an impossibly long arrow through the windshield of his airship. "He's got tight coordination between his ground and air assets."
Leaving the display behind, Ardmore approached a terminal desk where soldiers handled the footage displayed on several grouped holographic screens. Quaritch followed closely, listening to their conversation.
"His forces are hitting our outlying sites, mining operations, and pipelines, effectively cutting off our supply chain," Ardmore elucidated, pointing at a display showing warriors revelling amidst the wreckage of a burning and derailed train. A human soldier chimed in, "They attacked a maglev transport just last week," magnifying the footage to show warriors distributing weapons from a derailed cargo train.
Quaritch redirected his focus towards Ardmore. "Any intel on Sully's base of operations?" he inquired, exhaling through his exo-pack.
"Yes," Ardmore affirmed, her nod indicating assurance. She signalled to a soldier, instructing them, "Give me the mountains." Swiftly, the soldier presented a 3D holographic map of the floating mountain range, and Ardmore guided them through it, explaining, "It's a cave system in the Hallelujah Mountains, somewhere."
Quaritch studied the displayed mountains, somewhere in the back of his mind, there was something nagging at him, something that told him he had seen this before. He pushed it away, chalking it up to his human memories trying to resurface.
"But every time we send our forces up there, we take losses. Our hardware really stirs up the hornet's nest," Ardmore continued, pointing to a display showing a swarm of flying beasts striking down a fleet of airships. "We only get 10 minutes in enemy airspace; they are all over us."
Directing her gaze squarely at Quaritch, Ardmore addressed him. "Colonel, we believe your Blue Team will be perceived as indigenous and will not trigger the immune response."
Drawing a deep breath from his exo-pack, Quaritch responded resolutely, "And how might we test that hypothesis, General?"
"The hard way," Ardmore said, her head nodding as if she felt a touch of sadness for them.
"Outstanding," Quaritch replied, a false smirk gracing his face, concealing the concern gnawing at the depths of his mind.
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The carrier rumbled beneath their feet, its vibrations reverberating through the metallic walls of the vessel as Quaritch stood at the front, addressing his team. The low hum of engines and the faint scent of fuel filled the air, creating a backdrop of anticipation and determination.
"We are not in Kansas anymore. We are in Pandora," Quaritch declared, his voice resolute. He glanced around at his team, ensuring that they were all paying attention.
The soldiers, disciplined and focused, quickly found their positions, adjusting gear and weaponry in preparation for the upcoming mission. The metallic clinks and shuffling sounds merged with the subtle murmurs of conversations, creating a symphony of readiness.
"Now, I know you're all askin' yourselves the same question," Quaritch continued, his gaze sweeping across his team. He paused, allowing a pregnant silence to settle in, heightening the suspense before he spoke again.
"Why so blue?" he asked with a sly grin, his arms outstretched, showcasing his own transformed appearance. The tension that had loomed in the air was momentarily shattered as laughter erupted from the team, a chorus of mirth that echoed through the chamber. It was a brief but necessary moment of camaraderie, a respite amidst the weight of their shared predicament.
Quaritch, observing the scene with a stern countenance, allowed himself a slight crack of a smile before his expression shifted to a more serious tone. He looked at the team, trying not to notice that they were one short.
"For our sins in our past lives, we have been brought back in the form of our enemy," Quaritch explained, his voice taking on a solemn timbre. He struggled to keep his gaze from lingering on the empty space where Ja should have stood, silently vowing to carry the burden of his comrade's death until their mission was fulfilled. Memories of Ja's tenacity, his occasional vexation, and his unwavering loyalty flashed through Quaritch's mind, a bittersweet reminiscence that added fuel to his determination.
"That gives us their size, their strength, their speed," Quaritch continued, his words laced with palpable intensity. His piercing gaze locked with each team member, silently urging them to embrace the immense power that now surged through their veins.
"And with our training, that's a pretty potent mix," Quaritch concluded, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. They were a formidable force, ready to face any challenge that awaited them on Pandora.
Fike, leaning forward in his seat, rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on his commander with a mix of curiosity and unwavering determination. He yearned for a chance to prove himself in this new form, to demonstrate his worth to the team and their mission.
"Do we have a mission yet?" Fike asked, his voice filled with eager anticipation. The spark in his eyes mirrored the collective hunger for purpose that simmered within the team.
Quaritch regarded Fike, taking in the changes in his appearance that mirrored his own. The familiarity mixed with the unsettling sensation of seeing a different face. He nodded in response to Fike's question, his gaze unwavering.
"Indeed we do," Quaritch confirmed, his voice resonating with authority. "Our mission is to hunt down and kill the leader of the Na'vi insurgency. The one they call Toruk Makto," he announced, his pronunciation of the alien title far from accurate, sounding nothing like the audio he was forced to listen to on the way down to the planet. He shrugged off the imperfection, knowing that it held little significance to him.
"Jake Sully," Quaritch added, emphasising the name of their target. The team's reaction was immediate and fervent, a chorus of cheers resonating throughout the carrier. They were united in their shared objective, eager to bring down that traitor as much as the Colonel was. The betrayal from one of his most trusted corporals still sat heavy in his mind. Distant memories of a wheelchair-bound soldier with fiery determination and stubbornness that rivalled his own. They were foggy and glossed over, not entirely his own and yet solely belonged to him. It was strange.
As the cheers subsided, Quaritch allowed a moment of silence to hang in the air, a pregnant pause pregnant with unspoken purpose. His eyes scanned the resolute faces before him, a mixture of pride and confidence swelling within his chest. They were not merely soldiers; they were an unstoppable force, a brotherhood forged by shared trials and an unyielding commitment to their mission. Together, they would face any challenge, surmount any obstacle, and fulfil their duty, regardless of the price they had to pay.
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The team touched down in a clearing, jogging off the ramp of the carrier, spreading out as they readied their weapons. When the carrier took back off, the sounds of the spinning blades were replaced with the sounds of nature. As soon as the last person disembarked, the carrier took off, leaving the team at the hands of the Pandoran jungles. After a quick moment of silent deliberation, the Colonel pointed west, not waiting for the rest as he began to move.
The team followed after him, their footsteps were measured and cautious. The tension in the air was palpable as they remained on high alert, their senses attuned to any potential danger lurking in the dense foliage around them.
Quaritch and Wainfleet were at the head, clearing the makeshift path. The rest of the team trailed behind in a similar fashion as to when the Colonel had been taken on his first field op as a Recombinant operator. Weapons held at the ready, turning in slow circles as they surveyed their surroundings.
As they advanced deeper into the heart of the jungle, the sounds of nature grew louder and more vibrant. The chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the distant roar of unseen creatures filled the air, gradually replacing the fading echoes of the carrier's spinning blades. As they marched, their path became more treacherous, with vines and roots entangling their feet and hindering their progress. Yet, they persevered, their determination unyielding. Each member of the team maintained their position, maintaining a careful distance from one another while keeping their weapons at the ready.
Suddenly, an eerie stillness fell upon the jungle. It was as if the very essence of nature was holding its breath. Colin's instincts kicked into high gear, and he swiftly brought up his AR, ready to engage any threat that might present itself.
But before he could react, two creatures emerged from the dense underbrush, their deep blue, leathery skin glistening in the dappled sunlight. Their piercing eyes locked onto the team, and a low growl rumbled from their throats.
Colin's heart skipped a beat, his finger poised on the trigger, awaiting orders from Quaritch. But the Colonel remained silent, his gaze fixed upon the creatures, assessing the situation.
Z-Dog, who stood closest to the creatures, couldn't suppress a gasp of surprise, her grip on her weapon tightening instinctively. The tension in the air grew thicker as everyone held their breath, awaiting Quaritch's command.
"Hold, hold," Quaritch breathed, his voice barely audible but carrying the weight of authority. The team stood frozen, their eyes locked with the fearsome creatures, their muscles coiled, ready to react at a moment's notice.
In a swift and fluid motion, the creatures emitted a deep, rumbling sound, and with one powerful leap, they vanished into the wilderness, leaving the team in stunned silence.
Quaritch slowly lowered his weapon, a signal for the team to continue their mission. Colin let out a heavy sigh, his heart still racing from the rush of adrenaline. He fell in line behind Zhang, his focus renewed as they pushed forward.
Z-Dog broke the silence with a scoff, her voice tinged with relief. "No shit," she murmured, a shared understanding passing between her and Mansk as they trailed behind the Colonel, their spirits unbroken despite the encounter.
The team moved cautiously through the dense forest, their assault rifles held at the ready. They approached an old shack, its decrepit exterior overrun by weeds and entangled vines. One of the windows had been shattered, leaving broken shards in the rusted frame.
Z-Dog, her gun held high, took the lead and surveyed the dilapidated structure, walking up to the missing window. Wainfleet cautioned her, "Watch your six."
Peering into the shack through the broken window, Z-Dog observed the dark and dirt-filled interior. She confirmed, "Clear."
Quaritch made his way towards an old mech suit, its metallic form concealed beneath creeping vines and layers of dirt. "Perimeter up," he called out to the team.
Crouching beside the suit, Quaritch pushed his rifle behind him and cleared away the foliage, revealing a painted emblem of white stars on a blue crest. His name was printed beneath it. Standing up, he turned his attention to the suit's cockpit, resting his hands on the edge. Wainfleet joined him, looking over his shoulder.
"Damn," Wainfleet commented, his eyes fixated on the skeletal corpse within the cockpit.
Quaritch tore his gaze away from his former body, noticing the long arrows embedded in the corpse's chest. The vibrant green and yellow fletchings were as vivid as he remembered, though he couldn't discern the reason behind their presence.
A surge of phantom fear coursed through Quaritch as he gently pinched the arrow's shaft between his fingers, rotating it to examine the fletchings more closely.
Meanwhile, Z-Dog opened the creaking door of the shack, drawing the attention of Quaritch and Wainfleet. They watched as she continued her search inside.
Crouching in front of an old Avatar Driver capsule, Z-Dog noted its striking resemblance to the ones she had seen at Bridgehead, albeit this one being an older model. A massive dent marred its lid. Curiosity piqued, she lifted the lid and peered inside. The memory foam padding within had deteriorated, its surface far from the soft and plush appearance it once had during its use.
Stepping away from Z-Dog, Quaritch turned back to the scattered team members standing watch around the clearing. Addressing Lyle, he pointed towards the old mech suit. "Lyle, see if you can pull some data off that dash cam."
Wainfleet chuckled, remarking, "That thing's deader than shit, Colonel," as he approached the suit.
"So were we," Quaritch retorted.
"Alright," Wainfleet's fingers danced across the screen of the tablet as he worked swiftly to retrieve any available data from the motionless mech suit's dash cam. The tension in the air was palpable as the squad awaited his findings.
Warren spoke up, breaking the silence. "Sir, we've got movement."
Quaritch turned his attention, scanning the surrounding brush for any signs of activity. He made a quick decision. "Take Walker and whoever else. Check it out, call in if you find something."
"Yessir," Warren nodded, signalling Walker to follow him. More than half of the squad joined them as they set off to investigate the source of the movement.
The group moved through the dense foliage, their senses heightened, and fingers resting lightly on their triggers. They were prepared for any encounter that awaited them.
As the search group reached a hidden spot behind some shrubbery, they observed a group of Na'vi children, including a human boy among them. The children must have been watching the team as they searched the shack and realised what kind of trouble they were in and decided to quietly leave, but they weren't quiet enough. The tension grew even thicker as they watched the children.
A young Na'vi girl called back to the group, "Tsar stum txon'ong, mi za'u!" and ran ahead. ("It's almost sunset, come on!")
Walker seized the opportunity, jumping out from behind the bushes, and grabbing the young girl. She shrieked and thrashed in the soldier's hold, clearly frightened.
An older Na'vi girl shouted, "Tuk!"
Reacting swiftly, the human boy pulled out a bow from behind him and aimed an arrow at Walker, snarling in an uncanny manner. Another Na'vi girl unsheathed a dagger, holding it out in front of her in a defensive posture.
The older girl shouted, "Rä'ä! Kehe!" ("Don't! No!")
In response, a Na'vi boy readied his own bow, aiming it at Warren as he emerged from the bushes, closely followed by the rest of the squad, their guns were drawn.
Z-Dog took charge, her voice commanding. "Put it down!" She flicked off the safety of her AR.
Prager followed suit, echoing her command. "Down!"
The team encircled the children, their guns pointing directly at them, a clear display of their authority.
Lopez added to the demands, his voice firm. "Put it down, or I'll shoot!"
"Drop it! Right now!"
The human boy continued to snarl, seemingly unable to comprehend their words. His teeth were bared, and his eyes burned with anger.
"Do not move! Put your hands up!" Warren commanded, his voice filled with authority as he aimed his rifle at the Na'vi boy's head.
The boy dropped his bow to the ground, raising his hands in surrender. He turned to the human boy, trying to convey the message that they needed to comply.
"Keyn. Keyn," he said, turning to the girl with the raised dagger and slowly inching closer to her. ("Put it down. Put it down.")
Fike joined the tense standoff, his voice was stern. "Hands up!"
The group froze, their eyes darting nervously between the armed soldiers and Fike, who had just arrived on the scene. Fike was a seasoned soldier, his presence commanding respect and fear. He scanned the area, assessing the situation with a sharp gaze.
The older Na'vi girl, her face etched with worry, mustered the courage to speak up, her voice barely a whisper. "Spider. Down."
The human boy, who had been aiming his bow at the soldiers, dropped it to his side. He turned back to the girl, his face contorted with anger, and gave her a harsh glare. His frustration was evident, but before he could voice his thoughts, the group was suddenly rushed by the soldiers.
Fike wasted no time. "Get 'em! Get 'em!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. The soldiers swarmed the children, grabbing them by their hair and clutching their thick braids tightly. The children were forced to their knees, their faces filled with anguish and fear.
"Get over here! Come on!" one soldier barked, his grip on the Na'vi girl's braid tightening, causing her to wince in pain.
Brown intervened, attempting to assert control over the situation. "Stop fighting," he ordered, his voice laced with authority. He kicked the back of the older girl's knee, causing her legs to buckle under her. As he did so, he tightly gripped her braid, adding to her discomfort. She let out a grunt of pain.
The human boy's eyes burning with anger and defiance, snarled in response. He struggled against Lopez's hold, his hand swiping dangerously close to the soldier's eyes. The tension in the air was palpable, each side unwilling to back down.
Fike called out to his fellow soldiers, "Check 'em for weapons!" He brought his hand up to press two fingers to his neckpiece, activating his comm device. "Sir, we've got something you'd wanna see," he said into the comm, a sense of urgency in his voice.
Meanwhile, the youngest Na'vi girl, her teary eyes fixated on the Na'vi girl with pale blue skin, "Ri'te..." she whimpered softly. She reached out her hand, a desperate plea for comfort and reassurance.
The other girl, displaying strength amidst the chaos, responded in their native language. "Mawey, Tuk, tsal fra'u's tam, oe pänutìng," she murmured, her words sounding reassuring, like she was making a promise. ("Be calm, Tuk, everything's okay, I promise.")
"Shut up, don't move."
Quaritch's words hung heavy in the air, filling the tense silence with a foreboding atmosphere. The girl, held tightly by Warren, continued to struggle, her grunts and gasps growing more desperate as Quaritch approached. With each harsh tug on her braid, she winced and whimpered, urged to stay still.
Quaritch made his way between the captive children, his tail swished behind him, an unsettling display of his predatory nature. His finger idly tapped against his rifle, face lost in contemplation as he surveyed the scene before him. His eyes fell upon the girl, with her peculiar pale blue skin and a thick twisting scar on her thigh. A strange fascination welled up inside the man, intrigued by this unique sight.
"What have we here? Didn't know they came in this color."
His comment about the girl escaped his lips casually, his rifle playfully aimed in her direction. His soldiers, obediently following his lead, responded with laughter. Yet, what caught him off guard was the unexpected snort from the older Na'vi girl, it was cruel and so was the look she was giving to the other girl.
Turning his attention to the human boy, Quaritch's face reflected a mixture of thoughtfulness and confusion. Something about the boy stirred a distant memory within him, but he struggled to pinpoint the source. Pushing his rifle behind him, he pivoted away from the boy, his mind consumed by the elusive connection.
"Txìng peyä nì'awtu!" ("Leave her alone!")
Interrupting his thoughts, the Na'vi boy voiced his frustration, defiantly pulling against his captor. Wainfleet had stepped forward, gripping the older girl's hand and displaying it to the Colonel with a pleased smirk.
"Hey, Colonel, check it out. Four fingers. We got ourselves a half-breed."
Quaritch's gaze scrutinised the girl, taking in her furred eyebrows, green eyes and a more human-like nose that stirred something in the back of his mind. Unbeknownst to anyone around him, a storm of anger and dread churned deep within the Colonel's chest, prompted by an elusive memory that resurfaced. It was a sensation he couldn't shake off, an unwelcome reminder of a past he didn't know if he wanted to believe was his.
"You. Show me your fingers." the Colonel turns to the Na'vi boy.
The boy's green eyes and furred eyebrows mirrored his own, causing a flicker of recognition within Quaritch's mind. The boy side-eyed him for a moment before he brought his hands up, flipping the Colonel off as he tilted his head in a rebellious way. The Colonel chuckled, looking into the boy's eyes.
Quaritch's grin grew predatory, his amusement morphing into something more sinister. With a chilling tone, he said "Well, hello again. Didn't think we'd see you again, little watcher." The boy's face paled at the Colonel's words, a realisation dawning upon him. The fear that etched itself onto the boy's face only served to widen Quaritch's grin, relishing in the power he held over them both.
"You're his, aren't you?"
The boy gave a guttural hiss in return, his tail sweeping furiously behind him, displaying his agitation and defiance.
Quaritch's smirk persisted on his face as he confirmed, "You're his, all right."
Without hesitation, Quaritch seized the boy from his captive, clutching his braid tightly, causing the boy to grunt in pain. Fueled by his instincts, the boy opened his mouth wide, baring his teeth as he attempted to sink them into the Colonel's arm.
"Lo'ak, rä'ä. Don't!" the human boy pleaded desperately. ("Lo'ak, don't. Don't!")
Lo'ak, as the human boy called him, promptly closed his mouth, fixing a resentful glare upon the Colonel as the man forced him to his knees.
Quaritch demanded, "Where is he?" He tugged on the boy's braid, expecting an answer that didn't come.
Lo'ak responded defiantly, "Ngaytxoa 'ìnglìsì… ne vonvä." expressing his refusal to speak in English. ("Sorry, I don't speak English… to assholes.")
"Peseng ngeya sempul?" Quaritch bit back, shaking the boy in frustration. ("Where is your father?")
The boy cried out in pain, but his snarl of resistance remained unyielding.
Meanwhile, the young Na'vi girl, witnessing the distressing scene, screamed and struggled against Walker, her little feet relentlessly kicking at the soldier's legs, attempting to intervene.
Quaritch's expression hardened as he contemplated his next move. With a cold determination, he retrieved his knife, pressing it against the vulnerable boy's neck, his voice dripping with a menacing tone.
"Really? You wanna play it this way?"
"Kehe! Rutxe!" ("No!" Please!")
The tension in the clearing hung thickly in the air as the encounter unfolded. The older Na'vi girl, watched with wide eyes, her distress evident as she pleaded for the safety of the boy. Fike barked at her to be silent, his voice filled with hostility.
The situation took a sudden turn as Quaritch jerked Lo'ak away, making his way to the pleading girl. "Kiri, kehe! No! Stop!" the boy yelled, finally speaking English. ("Kiri, no! No! Stop!")
"Hey! Hey, don't touch her!" the human boy shouted, his voice filled with rage as he fought against the hold on him, attempting to reach the girl he sought to protect. The human boy lashed out against his captor, struggling to break free and reach the distressed girl.
Lo'ak, still on his knees due to the grip on his braid, joined in the plea, his words filled with urgency. "Don't hurt her, please," he pleaded, his eyes locked with the Colonel.
Quaritch, intrigued by the human boy's display of compassion, turned his attention towards him. Crouching down in front of the boy, he questioned him with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment. "And what's your name, kid?" he asked, his gaze searching the boy's face.
For a moment, the boy remained silent, his gaze unwavering as he stared back at Quaritch. There was an intensity in his eyes, as if he knew something the man didn't. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady and calm. "Spider," he answered.
Quaritch was taken aback by the response, his expectations shattered. He had anticipated a snarl or a defiant response, but there was something different about this boy. Their eyes locked for a moment, Quaritch's head tilted slightly, mirroring the boy's own stance.
"Miles?" Quaritch uttered, hesitantly and bewildered. The name held significance to him, triggering a rush of memories that had long been buried.
Spider's response to the name was a venomous glare and a hiss, a clear indication of his distaste for it. In retaliation, the soldier holding him yanked on his hair, further fueling the tension in the air. The rest of the group watched in silence, their curiosity piqued by this unexpected revelation.
"You are, aren't you?" Quaritch muttered, his voice tinged with surprise. "You've got your mother's eyes, you know, bright and fierce." Memories resurfaced in Quaritch's mind, memories of a past he had tried to forget.
Spider remained silent, his glare unwavering, unaffected by the curious gazes of those around him. Quaritch's voice carried a mix of curiosity and disbelief as he inquired, "What are you even doing here, Miles?"
The response from Spider was cold and assertive, reflecting his resolve. "Nobody calls me that," he retorted.
Quaritch's surprise lingered, mingled with a sense of realisation. "Well, I'll be damned. It is you, ain't it? I thought they sent you back to Earth," he mused aloud, his mind grappling with the truth that had been uncovered.
Spider's confidence didn't waver. "You can't put babies in cryo, dipshit," he shot back, his voice laced with pride.
Quaritch, sighing heavily, seemed disappointed as he looked down at Spider, as if the young boy had somehow let him down. The weight of the moment hung heavy between them.
In the midst of the tension, Lopez seized Spider's hair, yanking it harshly. Spider struggled against him, refusing to be intimidated.
"What are we doin', boss?" Lopez asked, a mix of curiosity and obedience in his tone. He sought guidance from Quaritch.
Quaritch, silent in response, clicked on his comm device, and spoke.
"Iron Sky, Blue One, Actual," Quaritch transmitted, his voice clear and commanding.
The voice of General Ardmore, coming through the other end, responded promptly, "Blue One, Iron Sky, send your traffic."
"We're standing by for extract, over," Quaritch replied, his words filled with determination. After a moment of contemplation, he added, "Be advised, we are bringing in high-value prisoners, over." The weight of his words revealed the gravity of the situation they found themselves in.
As the soldiers prepared to move, Kiri, one of the prisoners, fought against her restraints, desperately pleading for her freedom. "Let us go!" she cried out, her voice filled with desperation and defiance.
Wainfleet, another soldier tasked with escorting the prisoners, responded with a callous remark. "Shut up," he snapped, grabbing hold of Kiri's braid and pulling it forcefully. She grunted in pain, her resistance momentarily quelled.
Ardmore's voice echoed through the communication channel, providing assurance. "Sit tight, Blue One. We're inbound to your pos." The promise of their imminent arrival offered a glimmer of hope amidst the tense situation, leaving everyone bracing for what lay ahead.
The group of captives were moved back to the shack, and forced to their knees in the clearing. Their braids had been let go, being held at gunpoint instead as part of the squad branched off to stand watch. The youngest girl, Tuk as she had been called, had crawled into the lap of the Na'vi boy, Lo'ak, her little face hidden in his neck as he held her close.
Spider was staring Quaritch down, the man having to turn his back to him to avoid the intense gaze. He had occupied himself with fiddling with the table Wainfleet had given him, watching the silent footage as he tried to figure out how to get the sound back. It had been there at first, but then he pressed something and the thing muted itself. Quaritch sighed as he looked around for Wainfleet, having given up on solving his dilemma on his own.
"Lyle, get me some sound on this." he orders, holding the table out to the corporal with feigning disinterest.
Wainfleet stepped up, not taking the table as he unmuted the footage. "You just gotta..." he trailed off, focused on his task. "There you go, sir."
Quaritch hummed in response as he watched the video, the images tickling something in the back of his mind. He watched as the old, human version of himself fought with a young Jake Sully, the traitor looking no different from the enemy dressed in their garb, decked with wair paint and beads in his hair.
He watched the fight unfold, how he was getting the upper hand, how he was winning. He had Sully pinned, his long knife digging into the traitor's shoulder. Then he heard it, heard the call, the cry, the saving grace that was Sully's little bedmate. She launched her arrows at him with deadly accuracy. He watched his human self take a step back in the suit, stumbling as an arrow pierced the windshield, just barely missing him.
With Sully out of the fight, it was just him and her. A deadly standoff.
She covered Sully's body with her own, hissing at him, her tail swishing behind her.
He watched the two of them fight, watched as she danced around him, jumping close enough to retrieve the arrows protruding from his suit just to shoot him with them again.
Then came that moment, that one second where he faltered, where she finally got the winning shot.
Two arrows pierced the windshield of the suit, lodging themselves in his chest. He heard himself grunt in pain, a small and high sound escaping his lips as blood filled his lungs. The suit tipped backwards, the view changing from her to the tree canopy.
And that was it. He died.
He looked away from the tablet, his mouth dry and an odd sensation swirling in his stomach. He thrusts the table back to Wainfleet, who wisely didn't say anything as he put the device back in his rucksack. The corporal as his colonel stepped up to the old mech suit, his gaze distant as he stared down at the body, leaning his hands on the edge as he peered inside.
The skeletal remains of his human body stared up at him, the exo-pack still on its face. With slightly shaky hands, the Colonel removed it, revealing the skull underneath, its hollow eye sockets boring into him, its jaw hanging open now that there was nothing keeping it shut. He could still smell that foul stench of death permeating from the suit, that sickly scent that comes forth once the body starts to decompose.
Taking the skull in his large hand, he turned it from side to side, eyes scrutinising it. He looked at the three long slashes on the side, feeling a phantom pain on the side of his head. He remembered how he got this, or he thinks he did, the memory of it hazy and glossed over, so different to the ones from after he woke up. Those ones were as sharp and clear as if he just relived them.
He crushed the skull without warning, his hand closing a tight fist around the broken pieces. Something coiled in his stomach, the feeling strange and tense, he hated it.
The sky had darkened by now, a light rain settling in just heavy enough to soak them all the way through. The group was silent, the only thing heard were the sounds of the forest, the calls of the creatures and the patter of raindrops.
"Blue One, stand at ready. We are three minutes out." the voice crackled over their comms, the team shuffling in anticipation of finally leaving the damn jungle.
The older Na'vi girl, Kiri as Spider had called her, bent her head forward, muttering a prayer. Warren came up behind her, yanking on her braid, the girl grunting in pain. "Shut up!" he hissed at the girl, who just kept muttering, praying. Warren tsked as he showed her down, her knees barely hit the ground before an arrow lodged itself in his head. His body slacked, dropping his rifle as he fell forward, dead.
The squad quickly formed a tight circle, some grabbing the children, guns pointed at their heads.
Yellow and green. The arrows fletching were yellow and green. She was here.
"Why don't you come out Mrs Sully?" Quaritch called out from his cover, eyes fixated on the yellow and green fletching. He felt his heart pound, thinking back to that damned video. "You and I, we've got some unfinished business." He was taunting her, knew that damn well, but he just couldn't resist.
"Demon!" She called out, hidden in the trees, her voice sent a chill down his spine. "I will kill you as many times as I have to!"
"I guess you and the corporal have been pretty busy haven't you?" His voice echoed through the forest. "You got yourself a whole litter of 'em, little half-breed tykes!"
An angered scream answered him back, full of promised pain.
"Sir, I got eyes on her," Lopez murmured, his cheek pressed to his rifle as he settled his aim on the traitor's little piece.
"Take fire," Quaritch answered, waiting for the shots, but all he heard was a dull and meaty thud as Lopez fell to the ground, an arrow piercing his chest, the tip glistening with his blood.
Quaritch looked away from the body, his eyes scanning the treetops, heart in his throat as he waited.
He felt the arrow before he saw it, embedded in his shoulder as he grunted in pain. He ducked back to gain more cover, his hand coming up to break the arrow in half, pressing hard on his shoulder to try and stop the bleeding.
Another body fell, its thud echoing through the unnaturally silent forest. Without warning, the team opened fire, mainly aiming it at where the arrow had come from, unaware of another attack coming from behind.
In the chaos, the children escaped, biting into the arms of their captors, one even opening the gas canister on Prager's vest as they fled. Yellow smoke filled the air, burning his eyes as Quaritched searched for any sign of Sully, knowing full well that if she was here, then he would be too. The team were still raining bullets, too focused on shooting to think about keeping the children captive.
The children escaped, the soldiers still dead set on firing at nothing.
"Hold fire!" He yelled out, ears twitching at the sudden silence, his breathing heavy as he chanced a peek from his cover.
The clearing was deserted, captives long since gone and no sign of Sully and his little bedmate.
Rustling to the left of him, across the clearing. The hanging leaves of a giant fern were swaying, the bioluminescent moss covering the ground and surrounding roots flashing.
He brought his hand up, signalling Wainfleet to keep an eye on the plant, taking caution of a potential threat.
Quaritch looked back, taking a head count. Three soldiers visible, and another were downed in the skirmish. That leaves another two squad members unaccounted for, excluding himself and Wainfleet.
They waited, but nothing more came.
Rain poured relentlessly as Quaritch and his remaining squad members found themselves deep in the heart of the treacherous jungle. With two squad members unaccounted for, tension hung heavy in the air. The loss of their comrades weighed heavily on their hearts, but they couldn't afford to dwell on it. They needed to press on.
"Fan out, we can't go back empty-handed," Quaritch commanded, his voice resolute amidst the downpour. The team spread out, their rifles raised, moving cautiously through the dense foliage. Their gazes remained fixed ahead, avoiding the painful sight of fallen squad mates.
Amidst the eerie silence, a hushed voice cut through the air.
"Win säpi! Win säpi!" said a voice in a hushed tone, sounding young and scared. ("Hurry! Hurry!")
Quaritch signalled the team to come up behind him as he followed the voice, ears swivelling as they picked up more voices.
"Fnu, foer sì'l asim…" came a more hesitant voice. ("Quite, they're still close…")
"Za'u, krr ut kä." said a deeper voice, stern and worried. ("Come, time to go.")
As they advanced, following the mysterious voices, Quaritch caught a glimpse of a tall figure with blue skin, clutching a blood-stained tomahawk. It was Sully, their primary target. Without hesitation, Quaritch aimed his rifle at Sully's head, ready to end his reign of defiance.
Before he could take the shot, another hostile entered the little clearing, this one looking much younger than Sully, closer in age to the half-breeds. Must be another one of his little tykes.
"Sa'nok tsi peyor." He looked to Sully, who nodded and led the half-breeds further into the forest. ("Mother is waiting.")
Quaritch couldn't get a clear shot, cursing under his breath as he watched Sully disappear.
With determination etched on his face, Quaritch relayed orders through the comms, "Put a hold on Sully, we're finding the rest and we are not losing them again." He said into the comms, straightening up as he waited for the team to come back.
Mansk, with his tracking skills, took the lead, following the muddy footprints left behind. The squad trudged through the jungle, their senses finely tuned to the surroundings. The footprints led them to a steep incline, where a sudden commotion caught their attention.
Spider and a young girl tumbled down an embankment, their bodies battered and bruised upon impact. Quaritch wasted no time. "Grab them." He ordered his team, disregarding the gasp of horror from above.
Prager had lifted the unconscious girl onto his shoulder, while he did the same to Spider, the boy unbelievable light. He turned back, motioning the team to get in position as the helicarrier came down from above, sending down ropes for them to latch onto.
But before any of them could, an arrow pierced Prager's skull, his body slumping to the ground on top of the unconscious girl, covering her body almost completely. The fletching was yellow and green.
"Fall back!" Quaritch commanded, eyes frantically searching the surrounding area, searching for her.
The team scrambled, latching onto the ropes dropped by the descending helicarrier. The rain continued to drench them as they ascended into the unforgiving night sky. The blinding flood lights illuminated their faces, a mix of exhaustion and grief.
The weight of Spider across his shoulders suddenly felt unbearably heavy.
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translations in order of appearance:
Toruk Makto - Rider of Last Shadow
"Tsar stum txon'ong, mi za'u!" - "It's almost sunset, come on!"
"Rä'ä! Kehe!" - "Don't! No!"
"Keyn. Keyn." - "Put it down. Put it down."
"Mawey, Tuk, tsal fra'u 's tam, oe pänutìng." - "Be calm, Tuk, everything's okay, I promise."
"Txìng peyä nì'awtu!" - "Leave her alone!"
"Lo'ak, rä'ä. Don't!" - "Lo'ak, don't. Don't!"
"Ngaytxoa 'ìnglìsì… ne vonvä" - "Sorry, I don't speak English… to assholes."
"Peseng ngeya sempul?" - "Where is your father?"
"Kehe! Rutxe!" - "No!" Please!"
"Kiri, kehe! No! Stop!" - "Kiri, no! No! Stop!"
"Win säpi! Win säpi!" - "Hurry! Hurry!"
"Fnu, foer sì'l asim…" - "Quite, they're still close…"
"Za'u, krr ut kä." - "Come, time to go."
"Sa'nok tsi peyor." - "Mother is waiting."