Blood and Thunder Part III — Chapter XVIII
Ayram Alusìng
Flying the boundless skies of Pandora was a rollercoaster of emotions for aviators—both a thrilling dream and a nerve-wracking nightmare. Nowhere else in the vast universe could compare to the sheer grandeur, breathtaking beauty, and heart-pounding moments of soaring alongside a mile-long waterfall, blazing at full speeds, and pulling up just in the nick of time, causing everyone to break into a sweat, than this tiny moon at the ass-end of nowhere.
This emerald jewel was the ultimate frontier of aviation; everywhere else paled in comparison, barely worth a chuckle.
But the allure was fools' gold. The coveted prize the RDA relentlessly pursued since setting foot on this distant moon was the grey metal rock that everyone called unobtanium. Touted as an exotic superconductor, it had a mesmerizing effect, shaping the most otherworldly vistas on this side of the Milky Way that anyone had ever seen. Massive mountainous arcs, perfect for flying loops through and pushing the very limits of the Kestrels, were a favorite for everyone. Floating rocks that were large enough to land on were also a sight to behold. Simply put: the alien landscapes were endless.
It was also precisely why this place was a nightmare to fly in. Whenever pilots approached the rich deposits of unobtanium, their instruments went haywire or simply ceased to function all together, leaving them soaring blindly through the skies. And without a way to fly with IFR, they were forced to switch with VFR. Rules that meant they had to fly by the seat of their pants and by the bare-naked odds of their eyes.
A risky affair, fraught with potential miscalculations and human errors that could very easily lead to disastrous consequences, such as colliding with hidden obstacles lurking behind veils of fog and mist. Engines choking on strange looking bird-like creatures or failing to realize there were Na'vi riders on banshees chasing after you. Yet, none of that seemed to stop these brave pilots from flying. Possibly because who the RDA picked were not knuckle draggers who flew around hauling cargo all day on Earth. But aviators who were combat experienced in wars that forced them to fly in conditions no better than the conditions on Pandora.
And no better of an example was flying dangerously than the Hallelujah Mountains. So named for the awe-struck cries of its passengers, who marveled at the sight of these floating mountains. Luckily for them, they didn't have to worry as nearly as much as the pilots did, who held a different name for this place:
"Holy shit!"
Mingxia's knuckles turned white as she clung to both the cyclic and stick, battling the storm that threatened to toss her Samson into the side of the mountains. Rain, now turned hail, relentlessly hammered against the canopy, while winds howled and twisted outside, testing the very strength of the decades-old Samson. Desperately adjusting the pedals, she was having to battle against the turbulent forces that had become a cauldron of sheer impenetrable blackness. Nothing, aside from what was visible two feet in front of her thanks to the spotlight mounted in both sides of the Samson, was visible.
She knew the IFR was useless by now, yet out of habit, she checked it again, hoping for a miracle. As expected, the instruments remained lifeless, offering no readings on her altitude, airspeed, or if she was about to smack into a mountain. Flying without these crucial tools was like navigating through the pitch-black void of space, only they had stars, and she had nothing but the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, and sweaty palms to remind her that she was here and not at High Camp, making smores.
With no other choice, she now had to rely on instincts and experience. Tightly gripping the controls, she prepared for a daring maneuver. It was a high-stakes gamble, one fitted for someone less suicidal than herself, but it was her only hope if they had any chance of reaching the survivors.
Pushing down on the pedals, pulling back the stick, and adjusting the cyclic just right, Mingxia managed to skillfully manipulate the rotors to pitch the nose up at a viable angle, allowing the Fox to ascend without stalling.
However, they weren't out of the woods yet.
"Hang on!" Mingxia shouted over the radio.
As the Samson shot upward in a near-vertical flight, brilliant crackling lightning danced around them, painting the sky with an electrifying display of white light, forcing Mingxia to close her eyes out of her own protection for her sight. Along with it, the thunder's booming roar rattled the Samson to the core, and the searing heat of the storm seemed to penetrate even through the closed cockpit doors.
Asher wrestled to keep his headset on but immediately braced himself when he heard Ming's advice. The Fox suddenly brought its nose up in an effort to gain altitude in a near vertical flight. Kxeyìn, having not a clue of what the English words meant over the radio, quickly crossed her arms in a futile attempt to keep herself safe from the ruthless momentum that started to press down on every square centimeter of her body.
"Almost there," Mingxia said, beads of sweat cascading down her face as she maintained her composure amid the chaos. The cyclic stick and pedals vibrated with such intensity that she feared they might shake loose right out of their screws. But the storm had more in store for them. An invisible air pressure started building, and a thunderous clap erupted before the cockpit, shaking the Samson and causing the alarms to wail in protest, telling her she needs to level out soon.
She knew.
"C'mon, you bitch!" She cursed at the storm.
Between life and sudden burning death, seconds became an eternity. But after the tenth second, they broke through with the most devastating aspect of the storm directly behind them. Still holding onto the stick, Mingxia gave one big sigh of relief as she looked pass the window to find the sun smiling warmly at them. Up here, the sun bathed her face in a warm, golden glow. Enough to remind her that she was still alive. The humid air also caused condensation on the cockpit windows, prompting Mingxia to reach over and wipe a small visible hole on the front window of her seat, allowing her to see ahead.
The alarms still whined, warning her about the perilous altitude. The low oxygen levels at this height posed a threat to the engines. She knew that continuing in this manner could lead to their sudden demise. So, with calculated precision, she brought the Fox down, skirting the edge of the storm's intense pressures that could swallow them whole like a whirlpool of hate at any moment.
"We're through," she reported on the radio, her voice teetering on a joyful relief and scared out of her wits.
Asher, his nerves still shaken, took a moment to collect himself, staring at his boots in an attempt to steady his trembling hands. He didn't even bother checking on Kxeyìn, trusting her Na'vi instincts to take care of herself. And he would be right. The Tipani woman did, but she wanted desperately to leave this cursed animal as soon as they could land.
Staring straight ahead, Ming now proceeded to the location of the presumed crash, which was frequently updated to the computer navigation system by the faint pings of Amanti's throat microphone. They were almost there.
High Camp
"Whose hurt?" Norm asked with genuine concern lining his face as he watched Jake climbed down from Bob.
"I'm not sure," Jake replied, his exhaustion evident while helping Neytiri dismount.
"Okay," Norm said, his posture betraying a hint of nervousness. "I've got some news."
"Hopefully good," Jake managed to say through his weary voice.
Norm bobbled his head, unsure if it was. "Sorta," he said, continuing, "I had to send the daughter of Amanti on the Gray Fox to go and rescue her mother. But, Jake… I also had to send Rayan too."
The Fox was working again? Jake thought. He almost wanted to ask who it was that fixed her when Rayan Asher was mentioned.
"Rayan?" Jake said as he turned briefly to check on Neytiri's well-being before focusing back on Norm. "I told that man to go back."
"Well, he was just hanging around here. And since he's in his avatar, I put him to good use. That was before I heard what had happened."
Jake sighed. "We don't need his help, Norm."
"Jake, I don't like him anymore than you do but at the moment, we can't just pick and choose who can and cannot help us."
"Should've thought of something else, Norm." Jake said as they started to walk towards the Untouchable.
"Jake, what the hell was I supposed to do? Tell him to jump off a cliff? Besides, we needed the Vanquish destroyed. Those navigation logs, Jake, I'm tellin' you right now, if we just let the Vanquish fall in the wrong hands, we'll be up a shit's creek within forty-eight hours. I didn't have a choice. I would have told the girl how to do it, if she was Omatikaya, but you've seen how the Tipani reacts to our stuff. And Rayan was the only one who can do it. Not to mention he has the extender that he carries around in his backpack."
Jake paused, swung around and stared down at Norm. "Stop making excuses for that man. We don't know what he's capable of," Jake said sternly, "and did you ever think that he might be saving a copy of the navigation logs to give to the RDA?"
Norm scratched his head, seemingly not having considered that possibility.
Jake straightened up, "Better hope that's all he's there to do because right now, the Tipani are waiting for me to prove them right. So are the Omatikaya."
Norm understood, however, he could not see any other way around it. With Jake taking Neytiri away, the scientist remained behind, heaving a sigh of frustration as he waved Neytiri a greeting.
Together with Neytiri, they made their way over to the Untouchable where Stevenson, the scruffy pilot, was already attempting to assist the Tipani. But they didn't seem to want his help; even after all they had been through, their gratitude was in short supply.
"Stevenson," Jake called out to the pilot, who turned to face the tall, blue Marine.
"Yes sir?"
"Good work out there," Jake commended.
"Could've been better, Jake," Stevenson admitted with a hint of disappointment hidden beneath the respirator mask.
The Marine nodded. "Yeah," Jake said as he looked over to the Tipani now quickly getting off the Samson.
Approaching them, Jake explained to them what happened to Amanti. Not a single face among them were pleased to hear it (who would?), but Jake had to be truthful with them.
"But do not worry," he assured, "one of your own is looking for them as we speak."
There was no need to explain who else was on board.
The Tipani exchanged glances, uncertainty evident in their eyes. However, as the rest of their People arrived, they were welcomed with the warmth and familiarity of old faces—Tsmupxa and Srìlo—coming to check on the wounded. Some had minor scratches, others had serious enough wounds that they needed proper medical attention, while one of them was suffering from motion sickness due to the turbulent ride. Quickly acknowledging a parting thanks to Jake, the children of Amanti took charge of caring for the Tipani, guiding them to the avatar canopy.
Left alone, Neytiri whispered kindly, "Jeyk," and starts to pull his hand towards her so that he had no choice but to look at her.
"What's wrong?" He asked, already examining her face to find bloody scratches she received during the storm.
She took both of his hands and brought them down to her chest as she stood there smiling at him.
"Nothing is wrong. You did right by your heart. They are safe because of you."
Jake shook his head, still feeling regret for having left people behind. "We still have Amanti and Ninat out there. And now we have Rayan out there too, doing who knows what."
"Yes," she softly agreed, "but Jeyk, know that you have done right for these people. They are alive because of you." Drawing nearer to him, she looked into his eyes with a seriousness that radiated love. "I am alive because of you."
Confused by her words, Jake couldn't help but ask, "Why?"
Her ears fell as she looked up to him. There was a certain vulnerability, a kind of hurt that knew what she had done was wrong. And although Jake was not mad at her, he was, however, quite confused by her actions.
"Why I left without telling you?" she asked, hoping that is what he wanted to talk about.
He nodded.
"It was…" she looked away, catching the truth as it attempted to escape through her embarrassed expression. "…a moment of weakness. The previous night, my heart was hurting and all I could think of was you. How much I hated you, Jeyk."
He knew she didn't mean it.
"And I wanted you to feel my hurt. It is childish, I know. But…"
Out of nowhere, Tuktirey ran up to them and hugged Neytiri's leg, silencing the rest of Neytiri's answer. Whatever hate that once existed in Neytiri had now vanished as she glanced down to her youngest.
"Mom!" Tuktirey cried, and in that simple word, a sea of emotions washed over Neytiri's face.
Kiri, Neteyam, and Lo'ak were right after her, all running to join with their parents.
With everyone hugging Neytiri and Jake, there wasn't a second to breathe when Neytiri felt the warmth of her family again. Unable to hold it back, she broke down in tears and returned each and every hug she received. Though, whether she earned it, she did not know. But now was not the time to reflect. It was a time to rejoice.
"I missed you," she told them, her voice choked with emotion and guilt, "I…" she couldn't help it. Tears fell from her as she hugged them tightly again. "Miss all of you."
She gave them a kiss on the forehead, especially her Lo'ak who got embarrassed by her motherly love.
"Mom!" Lo'ak said whimsically on the faux embarrassment.
Neytiri kissed him on the forehead before turning to Neteyam. "Come here," she told him. Wrapping her arm around her eldest, she brought him closer and kissed him on the temple.
"I love you."
Neteyam grinned, chuckling, "I love you too, mom."
"Boys, thank you for holding down the fort," Jake expressed with a smile of his own.
"Not a problem, dad," mused Lo'ak who grinned when Neytiri came back to hug him again.
"Yeah, it was not a problem. But guess what, dad," Neteyam chimed in, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Yeah?" Jake smiled, his eyebrow raising. "What?"
"Looks like your demon took off to find Amanti."
Jake slowly nodded, "yeah I've heard."
Suddenly, Ninat's mate, Tazrri, appeared with a look of gloom on his face. "Olo'eyktan," he called out to Jake. "Olo'eyktan, where is ma Ninat? I did not see her with the other riders."
Jake turned and bowed his head, a sorrowful expression hung on his face. "I am sorry, Tazrri. I should have asked you but at the time, we were in a hurry and Ninat was already there. When we left, something happened to her, and she crashed into the forest."
Tazrri looked around, his gut filled with heavy dread. "Is she?"
Jake inhaled and said, "I do not know."
After several moments, he straightened up and nodded to Tsyeyk. "She always wanted to help," he told himself, "But, Olo'eyktan…" his voice became shaky, as though he already foresaw her death. "Ma Ninat… she is…"
He couldn't bear to think of the possibilities. The urge to leave and find her consumed him, and as he started to turn around, a firm hand gripped his arm.
It was the Olo'eyktan.
Jake looked at him with the utmost respect but grave seriousness. "Do not go out there, Tazrri. The storm will kill you."
Tazrri yanked his arm free, clearly his emotions was overrunning any sense of reason. "If your Neytiri was out there, what would you have done, Olo'eyktan? Sit here?"
"No Tazrri…" Jake began to say.
Tazrri turned and continued walking towards the rookery. Catching up to him, Jake had to put some sense into him. "Tazrri!"
"I am going to find ma Ninat," Tazrri declared about as firm but respectable as possible.
"You are not. We have people right now looking for her."
"Who?"
"A young Tipani woman and," Jake briefly looked across from Tazrri to see Norm, overhearing the conversation and offering a shrug in response. This Rayan Asher was really putting the squeeze on the Marine, wasn't he?
"One of my dreamwalkers," Jake vaguely admitted, "they will get her and bring her back. You have to believe me."
Tazrri stood there for a moment, weighing the decision and the consequences of sending two non-Omatikaya to find Ninat. His Ninat. After a moment, he decided to trust the Olo'eyktan, but he wanted to make his warning clear to Tsyeyk Suli.
"Do not make me regret this, Olo'eyktan or I will snatch the life right out from you."
His words were true. Stronger and more physically agile than Jake, Tazrri was about as much of a capable warrior as Jake was or anyone else among the Omatikaya, matched only by the Tipani.
In response, Jake offered a respectful nod. "You have my word."
Tazrri grunted in frustration and left, leaving Jake to look at a man that might have very well be him if the roles were reversed.
"Jeyk." His name was called by the familiar accent. Turning, he saw Neytiri standing, her expression sadden by seeing Tazrri this upset. "You cannot ask a man to believe you. Fate is not governed by belief or trust. That is outside of our hands."
"Look at him, Neytiri," Jake gestured to Tazrri, "I cannot do that to him. After what he's been through? Neytiri… Ninat is the only one who helped him after the war. And if she is dead," he lowered his head, feeling the weight of consequences pressing down on him, "then I will take responsibility," he finally said, glancing back up to her.
She took his hand and squeezed it. "You always do, but Jeyk, you are just a man. You cannot stop the storm from raining as much as you cannot stop death from happening."
"I had everyone come looking for you and the Tipani," he said, "and I am doing the same for Ninat. I'm not saying I can stop death. But, I can at least prevent it."
Neytiri frowned. Such concepts were beyond her. In her world, death was inevitable. "No one can prevent death, ma Jeyk."
"You are here because I did something," he told her, squeezing back her hand. "And so will the others."
The mate of Jake Sully gazed a moment longer to him before withdrawing and looking to her children. Wondering if what he said was truly possible. Preventing death.
They were about to see if that is possible with Ninat and the rest who were stranded in the forest.
North of Ayram Alusìng — Fifty-Three Minutes Earlier
Amidst the relentless downpour that hammered the sturdy hull of the Samson like a chaotic war drum, a desperate cry rang out from the surviving group of the Tipani, "Olo'eykte! Olo'eykte! Are you hurt?"
Amanti's moans filled the air, but she remained unresponsive. And with one of them dead, they feared the worse was going to happen to their clan leader soon.
Outside, the scene was equally chaotic. The pilot had tragically lost his life upon impact, and the twisted shards of metal bore witness to the violent crash. Miraculously, one of the rotors continued to spin, its electrical signals refusing to sever completely, causing intermittent gusts of wind to kick up whenever a surge of power flooded the rotor.
And inside this turmoil of rain and thunder, Ninat emerged from the bushes of the forest, her own face torn from the fall as she squinted beneath her arm, hoping to find the Samson through the sheets of rain. When her gaze finally found the gnarled wounded beast, a faint smile crossed her face. She wasted no time and jogged over to the wreckage, being mindful to avoid any sharp hazards that were partially submerged in the ground.
Carefully, she made her way into the cabin of the Samson where the rest of the Tipani looked up to Ninat with a mix of relief and gratitude. They were thankful to Eywa that another soul had survived this ordeal but were displeased to see that it was another Omatikaya. The same Omatikaya who had forced them aboard this death trap.
"I am Ninat," she introduced herself to the survivors. They were still polite enough to share their names, but Ninat's focus remained unwaveringly on Amanti, whom she knelt beside with growing concern. The singer's experienced eyes scanned the extent of her injuries. Blood oozed from a laceration across Amanti's forehead, and Ninat listened intently for any signs of breath amidst the cacophony of rain. Although it was challenging even for the most trained scout, she picked up on the slow and shallow breaths, a testament to Amanti's stubbornness to cling to life. However, she knew they had to act swiftly if Amanti was to survive.
"She is alive, but we must get her to camp," she explained.
The group agreed, but they were at a loss on how to do so. One of them even peered outside, hoping to spot the Olo'eyktan returning, only to be met with unrelenting, cold hard rain.
Back inside the cabin, Ninat's knowledge about the Sky People's technology and their vehicles proved to be a stroke of luck. She had been taught by Tsyeyk, which gave her valuable insights into the intricacies of the Sky People and their equipment. Guided by her understanding, Ninat knew exactly where they had their first aid kits stashed. Retrieving one marked with a red cross from the hull, she returned to the group, stunning the other Tipani with her unexpected expertise. They hadn't anticipated that a fellow Na'vi would be familiar with the Sky People's strange contraptions.
With the urgency of the moment hanging by a thread, Ninat had no time to explain the contents of the kit to her fellow Na'vi or how she knew what to use. Kneeling beside Amanti, she gently placed the compact case on the floor, and the others marveled at its small size, wondering how it even opened. But to their surprise, Ninat unlatched the case, revealing a collection of objects that were utterly alien to their eyes – gauze, bandages, syringes, scissors, vials of medicine, gloves, emergency blankets, and an assortment of cream tubes for burns and rashes, all carefully organized within. And even though Ninat didn't know what they were called, she was well aware of what each item did, having witnessed the dreamwalkers heal their own back at camp.
Ninat selected some gauze and several bandages and placed them beside Amanti. She then tore a slim piece of fabric from her tewng and stepped outside to clean it with rainwater. Squeezing it, she returned to the cabin, the moist tewng in hand, and gently wiped the blood from Amanti's head.
There was a lot of it. She had to go back outside to clean it.
While outside, the thunderclaps continued unabated, as though they themselves were trying to frighten the Na'vi into surrendering. It did work, to some degree. The surviving Tipani, all three, huddled closer together at the center of the cabin. The irony wasn't lost on them—seeking refuge from the elements inside what had been their enemy for generations, and yet, despite that very irony, they were thankful of the shelter it now had become. Knowing that if they were caught outside, they would be drenched, cold, and wary of the lightning that bombarded upon them now.
Underneath a calm and steady presence and undeterred by the fury of the storm, Ninat returned and tended to Amanti, her skilled hands working to clean the wound as best she could and dress it with the supplies from the first aid kit. But she also sensed the unraveling fear of the survivors, believing Amanti could die at any moment. Although not far from the truth, Ninat needed them to settle down, otherwise their fear will conquer their spirits.
As she continued to work on Amanti's injuries, she would occasionally glance up at the other survivors, offering them a reassuring smile. The Tipani played it well to their battle-hardened nature, having faced multiple demons without flinching, and having fought many times in battles that would frighten Ninat herself. But the one thing they both shared was the overwhelming fear in a situation that was out of their hands and out of their control.
Realizing this, Ninat started to ease their troubled minds and fearful hearts with a song that was first sung to her by her mother.
Oohh, mmm… our hands… and our souls… are joined together…
Our hands… and our hearts are joined together…
We are, with your light… to shine
So sing with me ma brothers and sisters
As Ninat sang, her soothing voice filled the air, carrying a mystical and comforting lyrical tone that eased the racing minds of the survivors. And under her careful gentle grace, she added the finishing touches to Amanti's wounds.
Our hands are joined… With ma brothers…
Oohh… our hands… and our souls, joined together with ma sisters…
With our love… Because our hands are joined together…
The last notes of the song lingered, blending with the sound of rain that continued to pelt the earth as Ninat gently laid Amanti's head against the floor of the Samson. White bandages wrapped carefully around Amanti's head and under her soaked hair.
…will last forever
Satisfied with her efforts. Ninat turned her attention to the others, "Is anyone else hurt?"
They exchanged glances, their once-frightened faces subdued by her song before shaking their heads, indicating they were in no need of help.
Sharing a warm smile with each of the survivors, Ninat found a relatively comfortable spot against the hull of the Samson. Nestled between a broken seat and a collapsed frame, she let her tail gently lay over her lap, a comforting gesture to herself as she checked her own wounds. Though she had earned her fair share of scratches and cuts from the fall, they seemed minor compared to the severity of Amanti's injury.
Blood stung her eyes, causing her to wipe it with the back of her hand as she sighed. Gazing out to the rain, Ninat's mind quietly wandered through the forest again, her questions pleading with worry as she wondered if everyone else had made it safely back to camp. She knew her ikran did. Having taken off shortly after she fell. Likely rejoining the fleet thereafter with the smarts typical of their kind. But what about the others?
She prayed to Eywa they did.
Outside, the howling winds screamed, the icy-cold rain transformed into deterrents against the sanctity of peace, and in this rage, Ninat found an unusual tranquility about, both within herself and with the maelstrom. Her heart and mind connected to the harmony of Eywa'eveng. Knowing that the spirits of the ancestors were watching over them, protecting them through this fierce moment of time.
By now, her voice, soft and soothing, began to hum another pleasing and slow melody—an ancient tune passed down through generations, from mothers to daughters. It was a song of the shaman's call, a sacred invocation to the Great Mother, Eywa.
Hear us, Great Mother.
We are connected, we cry out, calling… ma Eywa… ma Eywa… ma… Eywa
As Ninat's voice filled the cabin, the survivors listened, feeling the melody wrap around their souls like a comforting embrace of their own mothers. They too also started to join in with Ninat, one after the other, singing together as one voice.
"Got 'em!" Ming's voice brimmed with excitement over the radio as she skillfully circled the Samson around the wreckage. Peering below the chin window, she noticed through the gray haze of the storm the brutal scars of the crash.
Just then, her eyes widen as she caught sight of the surviving Na'vi running out from beneath the wreckage and waved at her. They were never so excited to see the Sky People coming to rescue them.
"I see quite a few Na'vi—alive," she reported back to the others in the passenger cabin.
And for some reason, perhaps assuming that the Tipani also understood English, Asher's eyes darted to Kxeyìn, and he told her, "We found your people."
She looked to him with a face that suggested she did not understand.
Asher couldn't help but chuckle at his own mistake, realizing that she wasn't from the Omatikaya clan, the one more familiar with English.
The rain was still falling harder than ever before as Ming sat the Samson close by the wreckage, carefully avoiding anything that would snag her own bird. Asher wasted no time and grabbed the handles, flinging the door wide open. He was the first to step off when he felt the harsh wind push him around. It was getting worse out here. Kxeyìn was next to disembark, and she nearly fell over, saved by her own quick thinking that kept a hand still close to the door's edge. Asher then started to run over to the Na'vi who looked at him with a face of disgust.
He didn't care.
And even though they didn't know who Asher was, yet, the Tipani survivors were more relieved to see Kxeyìn following right after him. Her smile became a gift for them, and they greeted her warmly, immediately taking her by the hand and leading her back to the cabin.
Across from Asher, Ninat stood in the rain, her soaked hair wrapping around her neck and partially obscuring her face. "Oel ngati kameie," she said in the traditional Na'vi way of introducing oneself.
Asher smiled, having quickly forgotten the Na'vi way of introducing themselves, was substituted with a normal: "Hi! Rayan Asher."
"I know who you are, I am Ninat," the singer replied in English, her smile still radiant. She had no judgment for his unfamiliarity with the Na'vi greeting. "We need your help," she added, gesturing towards the downed Samson.
"Right, let's go."
Making it to the Samson together, Ninat was the first to enter, followed by Asher who was more cautious as he noticed loose electrical wiring over by the pilot's side. Glancing down to one of the wounded Tipani, he instantly recognized who it was.
"Is she alright?" Asher asked to Ninat.
The singer nodded. "Yes, but we must take her back to camp."
Taking a flashlight from one of the many pockets on his backpack, Asher turned it on and gently bent over Amanti's face, intending to check her pupils' responsiveness. But before he could, Kxeyìn stopped him with a sharp "Tss! You cannot do that!"
"Got it," Asher said, his hands reflexively recoiling away. "I got it."
Ninat looked back at Kxeyìn, understanding what Asher was attempting, and explained calmly, "He is trying to see if she is alive."
"She is!" Kxeyìn angrily retorted. Leaning over, she smacked his hand away from mother. "Leave her alone!"
"Kxeyìn," Ninat tried to assure her, but it was no use.
"No! I will not have this demon touch ma mother!"
"I get it," Asher said, glancing to Ninat. "I would do the same if I was her."
"No dreamwalker. You are right. She is merely—"
"It's okay, I saw what I need to see and she's good. But like you said, it's best we get her back to camp. There might be internal damages going on."
"And how… terrible are these internal damages?" Ninat inquired, her own expression puzzled.
Asher shrugged. "Don't know until we can get her to camp." He then noticed the white bandage around her head. "Who did this?"
"I did," Ninat answered. The Tipani agreed. Kxeyìn was left stunned.
How did she know how to—?
"That's… huh, a really good job."
Ninat smiled, pleased to hear it from a dreamwalker.
Checking each of their faces, he knew by their expression that it was time to leave. But they needed to get Amanti out first. "Okay," he told Ninat. "Stay here. I'll be right back." And with that, Asher turned and ran back out into the elements.
Left alone, Ninat glanced over to Kxeyìn and said, "Your Olo'eykte—your mother is alive," she told her, translating the English words to Na'vi.
"Yes. I know. But… I do thank you," Kxeyìn said with an almost solemn anger to the fact that her mother nearly died in this metal beast. She should have stepped in for her mother.
Reaching over, Ninat squeezed her shoulder. "We will get her out of here, Kxeyìn," she then looked to the rest. "All of us."
Meanwhile, at the Fox, Asher stepped into the cabin and began searching for the typical orange litter used for medical emergencies.
"Where's the litter?" Asher asked of Ming over the radio.
"Right above your head," She told him.
Searching, he found a rolled-up fabric litter with the white lettering: EMERGENCY LITTER
"Lifesaver, thank you!"
With the litter in hand, he informed Mingxia that he would be right back and rushed back across the field. His heart raced as he almost stumbled over a piece of metal buried in the mud. Cursing, he skillfully avoided it and continued until he reached the wrecked Samson.
There, he carefully positioned himself closer to the cabin to prevent his backpack from hitting the ceiling of the Samson. Unrolling the litter, the titanium frames snapped into place, creating a stable bed.
"Okay," he pointed to Ninat. "Very simple. We just need to lift her onto this bed, and then we can bring her back to the Fox. Do you understand?"
The singer pulled back wet strands of hair as she nodded to him. "I understand, yes."
"Tell the Tipani woman to grab her mother's feet. I will take her shoulders."
Ninat conveyed the instructions to Kxeyìn, and the young woman positioned herself by her mother's feet.
"Tell her, on the count of three, that we lift."
Ninat again instructed Kxeyìn. As they prepared to lift Amanti, Kxeyìn's gaze locked onto Asher. In that brief moment, amidst the thunder shaking the sky and the rain pelting down like rocks, she couldn't help but wonder why fate had brought a demon to save her mother.
They were only after destruction and death.
Only after misery and pain.
But this demon was…
"One... two... three!" They lifted Amanti with careful precision and settled her onto the litter. Asher then instructed Ninat to take the handles protruding from both ends of the litter. With a firm grip, Kxeyìn readied herself as Asher initiated the lift, and together, they carried Amanti out from the Vanquish and into the pouring rain. The other survivors and Ninat followed closely by as they made their way to the Fox.
Once at the Fox, Asher climbed in first and turned to kneel down, assisting Kxeyìn in pushing the litter with her mother on it. With gentle care, they slid the litter all the way into the cabin. Asher immediately checked on Amanti to ensure she was stable, relieved to find her okay. He then secured her in place using straps, but to ensure extra safety, he needed to hook the litter to the floor of the Samson.
Grabbing several hooks from the small compartments in the hull, Asher maneuvered around each side of the litter, and hooked each gap before attaching the hooks to the flooring, ensuring Amanti's firm anchoring. After he was finished, he made way for the other survivors to enter the cabin. Gesturing for them to take their seats, when they did, Asher quickly radioed Mingxia to inform her of his plans to destroy the Vanquish.
"Roger but hurry it up!" Mingxia's voice crackled with impatience, sensing that the weather was going to take a turn for the worse.
Splish-splashing across the field, Asher made it to the cockpit where he found the pilot still seated. He tried to open the door, but the door was stuck in the mud, leaving Asher with very little room to pull the pilot out. Giving it one good kick offered him enough room to lean over the body and look at the console of the instruments.
"Sorry," he muttered, offering a brief apology to the lifeless pilot. He glanced around and found the instrument with the keypad. Above it, a screen flickered to life when he tapped a random key. It warned him about the damage to the Samson.
"Okay," he said to himself and pulled up his arm with the written code. Unfortunately, some of it was smeared from the rain.
"Ah crap!" He tilted his head, trying to make sense of the first and middle numbers. He squinted and tried to read it as: "Eight." The next smeared number had to be: "Two."
They were not educated guesses, but he didn't have the time to figure it out. "Double tap five, five," he recited, confidently punching in the digits. "Then, three, three." He followed through. The translucent bulb blinked red, then yellow. "Eight," he tapped on the key, "three, seven, one, seven, two."
The bulb flashed white.
Not it.
"Damnit," he said and looked back at his arm for reference. "Is that an eight or a three?" His tail swayed, and he shrugged. "We'll find out here soon enough. Three, three, seven, one, seven, two."
White.
"What the hell?"
Inside the Fox, Mingxia was fidgeting with her hands as she leaned and tried to get a look at where Asher was. She could barely see him. She checked her watched. Five minutes was already gone.
"Hurry up!"
The clouds were swirling right above the Fox as they sat around waiting for him to finish blowing up the Vanquish.
"Is the two a seven?" Asher asked himself. He should've done better to remember these cursed numbers!
"We'll try that. Eight, three, seven, one, seven, seven."
White.
Asher slammed his fist against the console.
Outside, the beginnings of a tornado was forming.
"Asher, please hurry the HELL up!" Mingxia shouted through his earpiece.
He laughed at himself. It wasn't an eight or a three. But an awkward looking:
"Five, three, seven, one, seven, seven."
The bulb flashed red and continued doing so within one-second intervals. It was armed.
"Aha!" Asher shouted. But he knew he only had several minutes. Leaning away, Asher then unbuckled the pilot from his seat and cradled the body in his arms. He quickly made his way back to the Samson when he noticed a tornado was about to touch down. No time to gawk at the extraordinary weather phenomenon. Asher made it to the Fox where Ninat crouched by to help him board the Fox.
With utmost care, Asher placed the pilot's body at the rear, securing it with straps originally meant for cargo, now serving a somber purpose of keeping the body stable.
"Are we good to go?" Mingxia's voiced came through his earpiece.
Hitting the throat mike, he acknowledged as he moved to the door. However, he encountered resistance when he tried to close it. Despite his efforts, the door remained stubbornly stuck.
"Hey, we got a stuck door over here!" He informed Ming.
"Forget about it. We need to leave," she responded urgently. The tornado made touchdown and was beginning to come towards them.
"Make sure everyone is seated with their belts on, Ninat!" Asher instructed, his finger pointing to the Na'vi sitting in the seats. She did, and with Kxeyìn now seated, Ninat sat next to her. The only one who didn't have a seat was Rayan Asher, who looped his arm securely through a handrail as he knelt to one knee behind the wall where Mingxia was seated.
"Dreamwalker," the singer called out over the rain, "are you going to sit down?"
He shook his head. "All the seats are taken," he said with a sly grin.
She looked around and realized that it was true.
"It's okay," he told her. "I'm good."
Mingxia brought the Fox up into the air just as the tornado came close to grazing the hull of the Samson. The Fox wobbled against the wind but clearly not enough to be toppled over as the pilot counteract each act of turbulence with her own push of the stick. Eventually, the bird was up in the air and heading back to High Camp.
The Vanquish erupted into a brilliant orange explosion, showering sparks as the tornado swiftly engulfed the blast, transforming the terrifying display of nature into an otherworldly creature.
"Damn this weather!" Mingxia cursed. Ahead of her, a massive wall of lightning and rain loomed, blocking their only way back to High Camp. Her console dials spun madly, indicating that charging head-on into the storm would lead to a catastrophic crash. Checking her fuel reserves, she knew they couldn't afford another maneuver to fly above the storm either.
She had to make a detour—a risky decision that might cost them precious minutes, but it seemed like the only viable option. Yanking the stick, she banked the Samson to the left, trying to navigate around the menacing storm.
The turbulence made the cabin shaky again, with Asher feeling the cold rain hitting his face as he turned away from the door. In an attempt to ease the survivors' nerves, he flashed them a casual smile.
They didn't seem to care.
Undeterred as usual, Asher decided to strike up a conversation with Ninat to help distract both of their attention on the chaotic situation.
"Where did you learn to speak English?"
Ninat clutched her seat, trembling from the turbulence, as she looked up at the dreamwalker. "I was part of a learning center," she explained.
"A school?" Asher clarified.
"Yes. I learned the language of your tongue. Very quickly."
Another bout of turbulence shook the Samson, causing Asher to hold onto the handrail with another hand. "You sound like you've been speaking it all your life."
Ninat's smile grew wider. "I talk to Tsyeyk's friends in their tongue."
"Why?"
"It allows me to understand the language of our enemy. It is smart. To know what they want to do with us."
Asher couldn't agree more. "It's why I'm trying to learn your language."
Her ears fell back in curiosity. "Do you see my People as enemies, dreamwalker?"
He laughed heartily. "No-no, nothing like that. Before I came here, I never learned it. But now that I'm hanging around you guys, it seems... well, useful," he admitted with a toothy grin.
Ninat nodded approvingly. "This is smart of you, dreamwalker," she remarked.
He chuckled, finding the label of 'smart' a bit unusual for his character. "Thanks," he replied, genuinely appreciating her compliment. "You know, you're the first who hasn't called me a demon."
She looked back at him and nodded with sincerity. "This is because demons hurt people. You and Kxeyìn have saved us," she expressed gratefully. She quickly glanced over at Kxeyìn and shared a warm smile, acknowledging their heroic efforts.
A stronger turbulent force suddenly knocked the Fox to its side, catching everyone off guard. Mingxia fought to regain control, but it was too late. The Fox started to turn over onto its side, causing Asher to roll violently within the cabin, colliding with the walls.
"Damn!" Ming shouted; frustration evident in her voice as the alarms blared once more. Finally regaining control, she stabilized the Samson.
However, Asher, carried by the momentum from the roll, found himself hanging precariously by his fingers, clutching onto the door.
"Dreamwalker!" Ninat cried out in alarm. Everyone in the cabin turned to see Asher in a perilous situation, and Ninat immediately unbuckled herself, rushing over to the side door to help him. She grabbed his wrist, determined to pull him back to safety, but another jolt of turbulence threatened to throw both of them out.
"I cannot hold on!" Ninat shouted desperately to Asher. He frantically brought another hand against the edge of the door, trying to find a secure grip, but he couldn't quite make it.
Kxeyìn, seeing this, did not know what overcame her as she unbuckled herself and ran to help Ninat. Together, they pulled him in, but it wasn't enough. Then, with a final jolt of the Samson, everything turned tragic. Kxeyìn was thrown out of the door, hurtling into the forest below. Ninat screamed as she, too, found herself unable to hold onto Asher any longer.
He slipped from her hand.
Both bodies plummeted from fifteen-hundred feet, descending through the green forest shrouded in rain. Kxeyìn was the first to land, her body colliding with several tree limbs along the way, fracturing several bones before she finally hit the ground on her back. Asher followed, his descent also marred by the harsh impact with multiple tree limbs, dislocating his shoulder and fracturing several rib bones. The moment his head struck the ground, he was disconnected from the avatar.
"Go back!" Ninat pleaded, but Mingxia was unable to hear her. The Fox was still on its way to High Camp.