Alone — Chapter XIX
F.O.B. Ticonderoga
The exact instant the avatar collided with the ground, it felt as though a cosmic switch had been flipped, savagely severing Rayan Asher's connection from his avatar and violently catapulting his consciousness back to Ticonderoga. Simultaneously, the currents of the psionic slipstream threatened to submerge the driver, drowning him with the merciless onslaught of his final moments replayed in excruciating detail—over and over again. Beginning with the memory of each finger clinging onto the Fox's door. Their desperate hold met with an unexpected surprise as Asher felt his fingers being sliced open, blood dripping. Then came the cruel twist of a searing burn that coursed through every sinew of his muscles, crying out in agonizing protest under their futile strain, pleading with him to release his grip.
Fully aware that he couldn't hold on much longer, coupled with the lashing rain and the relentless gales pummeling his body against the hull of the Samson, Asher knew that his time with the avatar was finished. And yet, something inside of him dared him to hold on. This… need for survival was surprisingly powerful for a body that was nothing more than a tool to him. But whatever it was, he had to keep trying. Gnawing back in rebuke to death, Asher started to pull himself towards the entry of the door, only to slip and lose his hold entirely. The memory soon led him to a pair of hands suddenly gripping his wrist from within the cabin, holding him from falling to his death.
A curious glance revealed the face: Ninat.
An indescribable feeling swelled within him, polluted with the question: Why?
He was nothing to her. Not a friend, not a lover, not someone important. If anything, she was far more important to her people than he was to his own. He was a diplomat, sent to secure some treaty with a species of aliens that wanted him dead. And yet, he wanted to thank her for saving him.
Ninat shared the same desperation as he did to bring him back aboard the Fox. She held herself with one hand clutching at the handrail and the other holding into his wrist. It was a struggle as he weight was dangerously overpowering her grip. Sensing the loosening grip beneath her hands, she tried to shout a warning, but the howl of the wind silenced her voice from ever reaching his ears. Then came a sudden buck of the Samson that caused something to fly past his vision. A blue object, a blue figure… a body, slipping past his peripheral, dissolving into the black abyss of rain and wind below.
Asher happened to look over his shoulder at the same time, a driven curiosity that quickly contradicted his need for survival, wondering who that was when he felt Ninat's hands unexpectedly release their hold.
There was no anger, no guilt running through his memories that he knew of. Knowing Ninat had to act in her own self-preservation. And within that instant of time, the world flipped, spiraling in a disorienting dance of over and under until the once-distant and once-forgotten Pandoran terrain loomed closer, and closer, spiraling into sharp focus. The dizzying speed of events played out in an accelerated blur, culminating in the collision with the trees. There was no panic, no scream that Asher could recall in the slipstream, just a frozen juncture between knowing he was going to die and knowing there was nothing he could do to save himself. Then came darkness.
Shards of his consciousness scattered like stardust, only to coalesce once more with his human form. The technological reintegration of the link-unit triggered a surge of electric impulses in his brain, summoning primordial instincts from an era where humanity stood as both predator and prey in the untamed expanse of Earth's wilds. Everything about him came slamming into his body all at once, causing Asher to crash against the link-unit cover with a guttural scream ripping through his throat.
The cover yielded to the force of the impact, revealing a disoriented Asher who sat up, arms shielding his face as he braced for an impact that never arrived. Instead of the crude jolt that should have told him he was dead, he was greeted with the cool air of the link room that told him he was alive.
A puzzling experience to argue the least and one that Asher could not quite comprehend just yet as the wailing alarms laid siege against his sensitive ears, causing the muscles of each living hand to cuff them as he bit back the otherworldly sound, wishing for it to stop.
"Asher!" Wade cried over the alarm.
The engineer bolted to the console, his hand slamming down on a button that abruptly quelled the alarms, allowing Wade a moment to think past the cacophony and say, "What happened? Is everything alright? Buddy, you don't look alright. Like somebody stabbed you!"
Asher briefly looked to Wade, a speechless expression lingering in his eyes as he hopped out of the confined link unit and dashed across the room, hoping to touch the concrete wall, to feel something real for once. He ran his hands along the brick lining, feeling the rough texture under his fingers, forcing his brain to make the connection that he was here, that he was alive. When he finally felt calm enough, Asher slowly turned and leaned against the wall, his breath having not caught up with him yet.
"Dude," Wade whispered, cautiously approaching Asher, "What happened?"
By now, Danielle entered the room with an emergency kit in hand, ready to assist Rayan. "Is everything alright, Mr. Asher?" Danielle inquired with a soft tone, leaning down to peer past the vacant look in his eyes. Not a single blink from him in the past ten seconds caught her attention, prompting her to exchange a concerned glance with Wade.
"Wade," she began, her voice laced with worry, "We might need to get him to Bridgehead. This could be another episode." Even as she spoke, Wade was already on his way to get help. However, their apprehension was interrupted when Asher's voice unexpectedly pierced the silence. "I think the avatar died," he stated, his words breathless.
His revelation hung in the air for a second, sparking a mixture of reactions with his colleagues. Wade tried to speak but kept silent, confused by Asher's claim as he knew he had been with the Na'vi at High Camp the entire time. Not unless Asher said something wrong?
Danielle wasn't skeptical like her friend. After hearing Asher's stories about the Na'vi trying to kill his avatar, it wouldn't surprise her that he somehow managed to insult someone and got his avatar killed. That would certainly fit the bill of his character. But the truth was, neither of them knew, and in the silence, they turned their gaze to him, hoping for an answer to drop out any moment from Rayan Asher.
The driver's gaze landed on Wade, interpreting the deep concern etched on his face for worry. Asher raised his hand, acknowledging silently that he was okay as he shifted his attention to Danielle, with whom he shared a subtle nod with. A wordless thanks for her support. Asher then allowed his body to finally relax, his form slumping against the floor, arms draped over his knees drawn up to his chest. From this position, he aimed to gather his thoughts and emotions, otherwise, they were going to think he was looney.
Not that Danielle needed any more reason to think so.
The memory however… it lingered like a bad flu, its vividness unabated, each detail replaying itself within Asher's mind. While he sat there in a contemplative silence, meticulously arranging those fragments into a coherent narrative, he began to realize that the avatar might truly be dead.
Annoyed by his silence, Danielle straightened, the emergency kit now secure under her arm as she quietly asked, "What happened, Mr. Asher?"
Asher's met her gaze, a thoughtful pause preceding his response. Then:
"It's a long story…"
Somewhere on the Outskirts of Ayram Alusìng — An Hour Earlier
The rain, which had once pounded relentlessly over the forest, now transformed into an unwavering tempo on each colossal leaf. As the forest was a sacred place, nothing was ever wasted. Once a droplet kissed a leaf, it embarked on a guided journey along the intricate veins covering the surface, steering towards the center where the collective weight of the water forced the leaf to surrender and give way, pouring its gift of life over the forest ground.
From this point, the water acted quickly, converging into a natural reservoir that, once it reached the confines of its limit, initiated a deliberate assault against the earthen blockade crafted by the previous tributary. The persistence paid off and the mud's defenses were eroded down enough to grant the flow an escape. This newfound stream surprises with its velocity, molding the landscape into a serpentine shape, curving sinuously around towering trunks, darting nimbly through the helicoradian labyrinth, and coursing past a lone cerulean figure lying face-down in the ground.
Both her hand and arm slow the progress of the stream as it attempts to weave around her. In doing so, it forms an unexpected puddle around her body, enveloping her in a cool embrace that Kxeyìn remains oblivious to. And while it appeared that she was dead, she was far from it. Her body stirs with breath—rising and falling—but not enough to pull her out from the state of the unconscious murk.
Further down the slope, near a broader river that connects with the major rivers of the forest, another figure lies motionless—a blue silhouette contrasting against the brown mud, his face partially submerged in the earth. He is somehow… alive, but his breathing holds a fragile cadence, barely clinging onto that very life. The air escapes through fractured exhalations of his broken nose, and blood oozing from his nose starts to mingle with the mud. Elsewhere on his body is the backpack, now cuffed and torn, its damage exposing parts of the network device to the elements, threatening to permanently sever the connection from its driver. As for the pain, the avatar is unable to register it, and so, remains lifeless in calling out for help.
Minutes later, curious tspìng, or as they were known by humans, austrapedes, began to cautiously move through the area. Their lengthy, slender necks strategically rose above the verdant bushes, allowing their eyes to conduct a swift survey of the surroundings, assessing the safety of the region ahead. It took them a while, but after several seconds, they collectively honked at one another, confirming that the area was safe.
The male extended a leg out from behind the safety of his bush - a daring move that might determine his fate. A moment later, it became clear that everything was alright. However, he wasn't entirely convinced just yet. Wrapped around his skull was a sensitive hearing organ that detected faint vibrations in the air. Whenever this tissue was disturbed by unnatural vibrations, his head would snap toward the source, his four eyes focusing to make sense of the sound before he cautiously moved his next leg out from behind the foliage. Following right behind him was his mate, her own dinosaur-like legs pushing past the leaves. Her head cranked up to the left, then right, reminiscent of a chicken back on Earth. Together, as partners, they stood and listened carefully to their surroundings.
The ambience of the forest was filled with distant, eerie calls of other exotic animals, fortunately too far away to pose any risk to their troop. Other noises mingled as well: the sound of rain, the babbling of streams, and the gentle rustling of the wind against the leaves. None of these sounds caused concern for the new parents. They emitted another honking call, this time to summon their brood to come out and join them. Three additional figures emerged from behind the bush—a female and two juveniles—each running up behind their parents and cooing.
The family of tspìng displayed a variety of orange hues over their bodies, rendering them conspicuous against the deep green backdrop of the jungle—now their home following the RDA's destruction of the great rivers further east. Reinvigorated to search for food, they peck the ground, their flightless appendages balancing their body as they stealthily move through the forest with quiet apprehension. They were also on high alert, and no more was this true than the male. He was born to be paranoid. Knowing that if a predator were to burst out from the foliage, he would honk at everyone to seek shelter in the nearby bush.
But there was no danger, and with their empty stomachs aching, they pecked along the course of the newly formed stream, feasting on parasites dislodged by the stream's current. It was a banquet unlike anything they had encountered before. However, unbeknownst to them, lying motionless beyond their sight was the blue form of a body.
As the adult male reached the bottom of the stream, his senses alerted him to the presence of the Na'vi. His eyes filled with intense curiosity, unsure whether this was a predator or a rotting corpse. If it had been a predator, it should have jumped and attacked him by now. But it didn't. The figure's outline stirred up residual genetic memory, signaling that this was no predator but a humanoid creature.
They were friendly.
He strutted over to the body, his eyes examining the creature before daring to peck at the lifeless form.
She didn't move.
The austrapede persisted, pecking at her form with greater determination. This time, a soft moan escaped the woman's mouth. The austrapede regarded her with a kind of wonderment, a rudimentary acknowledgment of her life. His growing comprehension was hastened by the scent of her blood mingling with the air. Recognizing the signs of her injury, he scurried away in the opposite direction, emitting peculiar sounds as it went, alerting the rest of his brood to retreat into the depths of the forest.
Slowly turning over and onto her back, Kxeyìn felt the rain's delicate patter on her face, washing the blood from her wounds. The pain radiated intensely from her injuries, yet she found herself oddly muted, unable to release the scream that her instinct demanded. Intrigued by her own emotional disconnect, she tentatively brushed trembling fingers across her face, wondering at her inability to cry out. A sharp hiss of pain answered her question as her touch grazed a gaping wound cut across her cheek.
She could vocalize the pain, but she didn't care to scream about it. She then happened to glance at her hand at the same time, snagging on one of the fingers bent at an unnatural angle. It was dislocated. The growing ache from the sight became increasingly unbearable, compelling her to lower the hand beside her and redirect her thoughts elsewhere.
That was when she felt heat from underneath her elbow. Lifting it, she confronted the sight of torn skin hanging from around her elbow, a clear result of the fall. Blood was also seeping profusely from the injury.
Not good, she thought.
She needed to get out of here. The first thing she tried was to sit up. But the moment she did, she quickly fell back into the mud the instant she felt pain shoot through her torso like a spear impaling her. She also sensed a searing, hot pain around her legs.
This was bad.
Taking in deep breaths to steady herself, she tried once more to sit up, but as she did, tears welled in her eyes from the overwhelming pain, making it difficult to see what kind of injury she had received around her legs. It didn't take long before her core strength wavered, forcing her to concede to the agony and fall back into the mud's unwelcoming embrace in an unenthusiastic splash.
Forced to gaze at the forest canopy above, she welcomed the rain's soothing shower. And while this was far from an ideal situation, she quietly thanked the Great Mother for keeping her alive. She also gave thanks to her own mother, father, and her oldest brother in providing her with tough training. The Tipani, unlike the Omatikaya, centered much of their focus on battle. Not out of a necessity, but out of a reverent respect for their ancestors. For they were the ones who fought off the great perils of their time. To bring together the tribes of the forest and secure the future of their descendants. It would have been blasphemy to lower their arms and embrace the traditions of their neighbors. So, while the Omatikaya danced, weaved, and played. The Tipani were training their children to prepare for the day when it was their time to protect the People of the forest.
Perhaps this was why Amanti found common ground with Olo'eyktan Tsyeyk Suli?
Instantly, a thought surged through Kxeyìn's mind: My pouch!
Yes! She could use her medicinal pouch to help her. As her hands searched her person, she realized that the pouch had been left aboard the metal ikran, stuffed away beneath her seat when she left the metal creature to help her mother.
A sigh left her lips. That pouch was likely lost now.
The rain slowly eased up enough for her to think about the pain, to think about the fall, to think about her mother, her brothers, the rest of her People. Was her mother alright? What about those they saved? A flash of death grazed along the edges of her mind, a grim reminder that despite saving them, she wasn't going to be saved herself. She could try and crawl her way back, but how was she going to climb the vines? She didn't even know the extent of her injuries to dare try.
Then she remembered: the demon.
Grimacing from the surge of pain that radiated through her muscles, she gingerly turned her head to the right. Nothing. She repeated the action to the left, finding no trace of the demon. Did it die?
She didn't know and she wasn't about to know for some time. Not unless it happened to just jump out of the bush to finish her off. That was how these Sky People killed the Na'vi. By ambushing them.
Cowards. It didn't matter where it went, she had other problems, chiefly, her own safety.
Kxeyìn brought up her hand and examined the dislocated finger. It was bruising and if she left it like this, then it was going to get worse. There was only one thing left to do. Grabbing it, she counted down in her head from five. Ragged breaths channeled her focus, preparing her for the pain to shoot through her hand the moment she—
SNAP!
Releasing an agonizing cry into the cool air, she clamped her hand over her mouth, silencing the howl of pain that threatened to betray her presence to any lurking predators. The momentary ringing in her ears drowned out the surrounding sounds of the forest as she fixed her gaze on the once-dislocated finger, now properly aligned and corrected. With a cautious breath, she attempted to flex the finger and was relieved to find that it moved normally.
It worked!
Inhaling the cool morning's air, Kxeyìn began assessing her surroundings, searching for a way to sit up without straining her weakened muscles. At the edge of her vision, she saw a tree, its silhouette beckoning her with the promise of support. The tree itself was the closest to her of all the other trees, by several yards, give or take, and it sat higher up the hill, meaning that it was going to take some effort to get there. Feeling determined after fixing her finger, she knew that reaching that tree was her best chance for safety.
Before attempting to do anything, Kxeyìn took a moment to assess her condition. She delicately moved each leg, gauging the extent of the pain. While her left leg seemed to throb with less intensity, her right leg radiated searing agony that elicited a hiss of suffering. Fearing a possible fracture, she cautiously shifted onto her side, curling inward to inspect each leg. Starting from her thighs and gradually inching her fingers downward, she traversed her shins, where the pain peaked. To her relief, she discerned that her legs were not broken, merely bruised, badly. Next, Kxeyìn wiggled her toes and thankfully felt no pain by doing so.
Employing her functioning hand for support, she balanced herself against the ground and started to climb onto one knee. No pain yet. However, as she attempted to shift her weight onto one foot, a searing jolt of agony lanced through her leg, crippling her back to the ground and eliciting a hellish scream that could be heard from miles all around.
It took several tortuous minutes for her to regain any semblance of composure, and still, the pain persisted, throbbing and burning like an unrelenting fire. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her breath remained frayed, tainted by the acidic taste of misery. Her heart eventually sank at the realization that her right leg was fractured, rendering her immobile unless she risked breaking it completely.
Cursing at the situation she created for herself, Kxeyìn remained sprawled in the mud, her face turning sideways to look at the vegetation of the forest, its beautiful array of leaves a reminder of home, a place she longed for but could not reach nor touch. By this point, the ringing in her ears died down enough for her to hear the sounds of the forest, its relaxing hum of wind and rustling of leaves slowly soothed her into a lull, her mind slipping into the past where the home of her People resided.
There, she saw them again. Her family. Their faces… full of joy, happiness, and tender love for one another. Her own face was thrilled to see her newborn brother, Srìlo, cradled by their mother, Amanti. Her father, Nosasney, wrapped his arms around his mate, lovingly bringing her closer for a kiss.
Then, like a dream, a clap of thunder snapped her back to her current present, reminding her that the storm was passing as the sun above started to break through, its radiant warmth telling her to keep going, to keep living.
She wasn't so sure if she could.
High Camp — An Hour Later
The storm was still raging by the time the Gray Fox flew beneath the mountain andwobbled upwards in its approach to High Camp. The cockpit echoed with the blare of an alarm, the warning of a malfunctioning left rotor. Its blades, compromised and out of sync, rasped against the sheltering rim, threatening to tear itself apart.
"I know girl," Mingxia said, "just give me a bit more juice." Holding steady of the stick, she brought the Samson closer, its landing skid scraping the rocky plateau as she made the rough landing. Everyone inside the passenger cabin looked at one another, perplexed that they even made it back alive, except for…
Kxeyìn. She wasn't here.
Ninat was the first to leap out from the malfunctioned door and urgently signaling for the others to join her in providing assistance. Among the first to arrive was Tsmupxa, his expression scrawled with concern as he anxiously peered into the cabin, his gaze settling on the figure of Amanti, his mother, lying on the litter.
"She is breathing," Ninat assured him.
His tail flicked as he tried to help her. Laying a hand on his arm, Ninat shook her head. "You are going to hurt her. Here," she said, showing him how to properly carry the litter. "You grab these, and someone on the other end will grab them. Then, together, you lift them." Her actions mirrored her words when several dreamwalkers rallied to their side.
"We will help her, Tsmupxa." They told him. Though he hesitated, he ultimately stepped aside and watched, reminding them verbally not to hurt his mother. Srìlo also arrived and silently stood by, looking at his mother as they walked past him. She looked in terrible shape.
Casting another glance into the cabin, Tsmupxa's gaze sought out Kxeyìn, who was conspicuously absent. "Where is she?" He asked of Ninat. "I thought she was with this metal ikran?"
Ninat inhaled deeply before responding. "We… lost her, Tsmupxa."
"What?!" He shouted angrily. It was rhetorical and given the circumstances of his mother's health, he leaped into the cabin, desperate to find Kxeyìn. "Where is she?"
Ninat remained composed, her gaze steady as Srìlo also started look into the cabin.
"She has to be here!" He shouted again.
"Tsmupxa," Ninat quietly called out to him. "She is not here. She fell out, along with the dreamwalker."
As though somehow admitting the dreamwalker fell out with his sister would ease the pain. It obviously didn't. The Tipani son of Amanti instead stopped what he was doing, turned, and approached her from within the cabin.
"How is that possible? I've trusted you and the Sky People to protect my People, and this is what happens? Your faith in these… these…" his fingers clamped around the edges of the door, "…things have killed my sister—my mother!"
Ninat attempted to find words to pacify the storm of his anger, but she knew his words held a painful truth. The Omatikaya's trust, their alliance with the Sky People, now seemed a bitter cost for the Tipani—one that claimed Kxeyìn and Amanti's lives. Such was the weight of his words that Ninat dropped her gaze to the ground, ashamed with herself.
More heated words escaped him, directed squarely at her, before he stormed out of the Samson, taking Srìlo by the hand. They retreated to find their mother.
Alone by the Samson, Ninat's tears fell silently as she attempted to keep herself composed. When no one was looking, she would wipe them away. Her gaze then happened to shift to the cabin's interior, at first to see if there were anyone else left before spotting a brown object tucked beneath a chair. Intrigued, she leaned in and retrieved the leather pouch. She recognized instantly who it belonged to.
"Kxeyìn," Ninat whispered.
Back inside the cockpit, Ming smiled and spontaneously planted a kiss on the console, silently expressing her appreciation to the Fox before flicking the hat switches off to shut down the systems for Julian and his team to inspect the vehicle. Underneath that contented smile of hers, overshadowed by the bowing of her head, she whispered a prayer of thanks that the made it home, alive. She then unfastened her helmet and slipped the mask back on her face before exiting and climbing down from the Fox.
"Outstanding work, Ming!" Jake's voice suddenly broke through her reflections, causing her to glance up at the towering figure of their blue-skinned leader. Her response was a genuine smile, yet, her amusement surfaced as she registered the mixed tone of Jake's comments, a blend of praise and irony that perfectly encapsulated the crazy mission. Sadly, she did not know they lost passengers when Ninat stepped around the Fox to talk to Jake directly.
"Olo'eyktan," the singer's voice quivered with anxiety as she greeted. "We lost Kxeyìn and your dreamwalker."
Jake's gaze shifted from Mingxia to Ninat. "Did you inform Amanti's sons?"
After a moment of hesitation, Ninat nodded, her voice soft. "Yes."
Jake understood but immediately leapt to another more obvious line of question. "How?"
"They fell out, Olo'eyktan. Your dreamwalker, he did not have a place to sit and was forced to kneel down. When the storm became worse, the metal ikran lost its balance and he was thrown out. He still hung onto the outside and I tried to help him. So did Kxeyìn. We tr-tried…"
She started to stutter as tears filled her eyes again, causing her to turn away in embarrassment. When she mustered up the courage to face Tsyeyk again, she choked back on her words but forced them out anyways.
"They… might… be…" Her breath caught, and after a deep, ragged inhale, she managed to force out the final word, "…dead."
Jake reached out and squeezed her shoulders as he locked eyes with singer. "Don't do this to yourself, Ninat. You are not responsible."
Tears glistened in her gaze as she looked up to him, the weight of responsibility heavy on her heart. "Olo'eyktan, no, it is my fault, I will take responsibility."
Jake's head shook gently, a tender smile playing on his features as he plucked a stray leaf from her hair, a simple act that held a world of reassurance. After all she had been through, Jake couldn't stand to see her suffer over a situation she had no control over. "This is not your fault. I was the one who requested your help. I will take responsibility."
Doubt clouded her features, but she still lowered her head in a gesture of accepting his words.
"You did well, Ninat," Jake's voice held genuine warmth, his smile a reflection for the pride he felt for her courage to bring everyone home. "I expected nothing less from a brave Omatikaya like yourself. And before your mate comes looking to kill me, I believe he is waiting for you back at your mauri. He is… worried sick about you."
Ninat's lips curved into a fragile smile, Jake's attempt at humor breaking through those walls she had built around herself. But her smile grew wider at the mention of her mate's name. Her tear-streaked face slowly softened, and her tail swayed with affection as she offered a nod to the Olo'eyktan. "Irayo," she expressed her gratitude.
She was about to turn away when the leather pouch found its way into her extended hand. "I found this in the metal ikran. It belongs to Kxeyìn. I would give it to Amanti, but…" Her voice trailed off, her eyes conveying what words couldn't
Jake's understanding smile met her hesitance. "I'll make sure she receives it."
Ninat tried to smile, instead, she chose to quietly leave to find Tazrri.
Shifting his attention back to Mingxia, who still stood nearby with her arms crossed.
"Did you?"
She shook her head, "I don't want to make excuses Jake, so I'm not going to. I simply didn't check. I thought everyone was onboard. But Rayan did tell me the door was jammed before we left. And with how wicked the storm was becoming, we had to leave."
Jake bit down at his bottom lip, thinking for a moment on how to find them. With everything that was going on, he didn't have time to simply sit down and collect his thoughts from the past several hours. Between Neytiri just up and vanishing, and Rayan Asher trying to play peacekeeper, and Amanti losing trust in him and now this cursed storm with a few dead, he really didn't have the time to consider anything. Nonetheless, he thanked Mingxia and departed to the science shack where he was sure Norm wanted Amanti to be there for her recovery.
Ticonderoga
"We… we can try," Danielle said hesitantly as she looked to Wade then to Asher. "I mean. It doesn't hurt to try. But if you can't connect, then the avatar is dead."
Asher, draped in a towel, didn't like the sound of that and turned his attention to Wade, hoping for a more clear answer. "Any progress?"
Wade's head shook with a touch of disappointment. "The network signal is solid, but I'm not picking up any life signs from the avatar itself."
"How would you know its dead?" Asher asked, curious of how any of this stuff worked.
Wade responded with a hint of clinical detachment, "No brainwaves that I'm seeing. And right now, the system isn't detecting any activity at all. It's like... your avatar is dead."
Asher clenched his jaw. That was not the answer he wanted.
Danielle interjected, a thoughtful frown crossing her features. "Did you lose the backpack?"
"Last thing I remember was trying not to die. Backpack. No backpack. None of that crossed my mind." Asher explained, his frustration evident as he slouched against the wall and crossed his arms.
"Well," she scratched her nose, glancing to Wade's back and conceding they could try. "It's not going to do any harm, so why not, hmh? Get back in the link unit."
Asher slipped the towel off and threw it against a chair as he leaned against the link-unit. Inside, he saw grass, momentarily throwing him off for a second as he backed away from the link-unit.
"The hell is that?"
"The hell is what?" Wade asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"I thought I saw…" Shaking his head as if to clear his vision, Asher rubbed his eyes, and the grassy bed vanished. "Never mind."
"Mr. Asher, is everything alright?" Danielle's voice held a genuine note of concern.
"Yeah-yeah, just tired I think."
A sigh escaped Danielle's lips, carrying the weight of shared exhaustion. "Aren't we all?"
Slipping over the bed, Wade brought the link cover down, sealing Asher inside.
"Alright," Wade's fingers danced across the keyboard, click-clacking with resolute focus. "Network connection's solid, but no response from the avatar. Initiating in three... two... one."
He pressed the 'enter' key, and a faint hum resonated from the link unit. The screen remained unchanged.
"Still with us, bud?"
"Yup," Asher admitted with reluctance. It was almost embarrassing too. "Still here."
"That's definitely not a good sign," Wade noted dryly.
The cover lifted up as Asher sat up. "What can we do?"
Wade took a deep breath, exchanged a glance with Danielle, and then exhaled. "We can keep trying."
Danielle turned to Asher. "Up to you."
Asher nodded, "yeah let's keep trying."
Somewhere on the Outskirts of Ayram Alusìng
Kxeyìn's struggle against the rugged slope was taking a considerable toll on her body. Evident in the strain of her face and mired by the pain that fluctuated between agony and sheer torment. Though things could certainly be better, her crawl only made things worse by the muddy embankment which littered with debris from grass that stabbed at her open wounds and rocks rubbing against her bones. And this was only her fifth attempt of the day. The previous four fruitless attempts sent her screaming into the air with tears of pain whenever she tried to make the climb.
As she made her fifth attempt up the slope, doubt plagued her mind. Her fingers dug into the muddy earth, seeking traction that proved tricky. Each pull was met with a disheartening slide backward and the mud mocked her progress. Her injured leg didn't help either. It throbbed with a ferocity that bordered on madness. And yet, she persisted. Hand over hand and with the unshakable resolve of a Tipani warrior, she continued. She used her good foot as leverage, pushing her up the slope. Clumps of mud held her back, urging each flesh to stop. She didn't. Then, she sensed a tremor of hope—the touch of bark against her fingertips. Her heart surged with disbelief as she gazed upward, incredulous at her own achievement. Against all odds, she had reached her destination. A rising tide of glorious victory coursed through her, momentarily eclipsing the relentless pain that beckoned for her to return to crying.
She had made it. She really made it!
It was a simple victory that any newborn could have done, and yet, immeasurable against the elation of her feelings. The kind of feeling that reminded her that she made it this far, that she was alive. A feeling that easily manifested a faint smile from her lips, and one that was quickly overcome with the caustic anguish of her wounds. Telling her there was still more to go if she wanted to get out of here.
Lying on the ground for an unknown amount of time gave Kxeyìn the opportunity to plan her next course of action. She knew her right leg was badly injured. Its purple shade and swollen shape that was twice its normal size made it clear that any further movement would break it. If she wanted to sit up against the tree, she would need to be careful not to put any weight on it.
No matter. She could do this.
As the sunlight evaporated the air around her, Kxeyìn started to feel woozy and light-headed. She knew she needed to stay awake, but the heat was making it difficult to breathe. She was taking shallow breaths, and the pain around her torso was beginning to intensify, making it difficult to hold her breath. She licked around her lips, feeling the cracks as thirst desperately sought for her to have a drink. A real drink. A cold drink.
She couldn't do anything about that at the moment.
She remembered the techniques on breath control and put them to practice. She slowly breathed through her nose, holding it for as long as she could, then releasing. The haze of affliction began to lift, and she was able to see clearly again.
She then closed her eyes and visualized herself turning over, every detail mapped out in her mind, down to the last wiggle of her toes.
She was ready.
Leaning her good hand against the ground, Kxeyìn slowly maneuvered her torso around. But the instant she lifted her hips to move, her fractured leg sent raw waves of agony, a costly warning that any additional weight on her leg could lead to its complete break. She couldn't stop the primal cry of pain from escaping her lips.
Kxeyìn forced herself to bite down on her lip, tasting blood as she fought back tears and the pain. She lowered herself onto her side, trying to ignore the waves of pain that washed over her leg. She then tried to move again but it was no use. Every time she tried to put the slightest weight on her leg, it felt like it was going to break.
Defeated. She had no other choice but to submit to the pain and lie down. Quietly closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. She could feel the warm air seeping into her skin, and she knew that she couldn't stay here for long. She needed to find shelter, food, and water. But how? She was lost, alone and she had no idea where she was to begin with. She only had this tree as a faithful companion that refused to abandon her.
Time to try again. She clenched her jaw. Her muscles burned as she summoned her last bit of strength. She planted her left foot against the ground. Was it secure? She tested it and moved, the hardening ground from the sun had baked the mud to the point that she didn't feel like it was going to loosen under her weight. She turned, her knee buckled, her body quivered. It was now or never. Pain was erratic, stabbing, and pulsating. She made the final turn and pressed her backside against the tree, its bark a reassuring scratch that told her she had done it. She broke down sobbing.
After some time had passed and her tears ran dry, Kxeyìn gathered her thoughts and directed her attention to her injured finger. She lifted it and observed that the swelling persisted. An extra painful ache also reminded her that she needed to protect it from further harm. Casting her gaze downward and scanning her immediate surroundings, she located twigs that could be repurposed for her needs. She took them, and from there, reshaped each twig into useful splints.
Then, drawing on a skill from her childhood that she hadn't employed in years, she fashioned a rudimentary splint for her once-dislocated finger. But she wasn't quite done yet. Turning her attention to the nearby flowers, she plucked their stems and meticulously stripped them down to harvest the fibers required for securing the splint. She worked on tying the knots but having the use of only one hand made for slow progress. She used her chin and teeth to secure the ties in place without impeding blood circulation.
Curious, Kxeyìn pulled her hand away and surveyed her handiwork. It was crude, but it would do. She knew that Fmilam would be proud of her for making the splint even though it wasn't perfect.
Satisfied with her efforts, Kxeyìn settled in to wait. She didn't have any immediate objectives left to think of, so her gaze drifted across the forest. She brushed over the foliage and meandered toward the nearby stream where she was drawn into a peaceful trance. Its gentle murmur serving as a soothing distraction for her rambling thoughts, one of the few sounds she liked to hear whenever she was stressed.
The rhythmic flow of the water eventually allowed her to close her eyes. As her thoughts cleared, she began to retrace the sequence of events that led to her fall from the metal ikran.
Metal ikran. The very idea of a metal ikran was blasphemous. A rebuke of everything in these lands. It imitated flight but lacked life. How her mother could have been persuaded to fly one was beyond her comprehension. If she ever managed to escape this place, alive, then the first thing she was going to do was ask mother what made her board one.
Then again, why did she board one? She couldn't find the answer for the reason.
Sky People. Her sentiments towards them hasn't changed since she came to High Camp. Before, she found them to be vile, destructive creatures who needed to be wiped off the face of their lands. So when she heard that mother was going to take them to a place where there were Sky People, she vehemently refused.
Of course, that was after the destruction of their homelands. The lands of her ancestors and the lands she had dreamed would be a place for her children to thrive in. She didn't have a choice, and reluctantly was forced to go along with mother's decision. Now that she was out here, living among the Sky People in Ayram Alusìng. A place not intended for the Na'vi, such as herself, or anyone else for that matter, to live in. She grew… comfortable. Not around them, no. But the idea of not having to wake up to the sounds of gunfire, or explosions, was in on itself a blessing. But here the Sky People were obviously living in the sky. Content with life inside the mountains without a future.
That wasn't her.
When Kxeyìn first arrived to High Camp, she was presented for the first time in her life, peaceful Sky People. They were tiny, as expected, and curious, to her annoyance. They talked, talked, talked, and talked some more. She never met anyone before who loved the sound of their own voice than these creatures. And they wouldn't stop. They were always around her, mother, and her siblings. Whenever the topic shifted to her, their eyes would widen with excitement. They wanted to know everything about her and her People to the point that Kxeyìn became frustrated one day and yelled at them to stop bothering her.
It didn't stop them. Fate, it seems, had other plans for her.
It was during this same time that she crossed paths with a dreamwalker named Samantha or Tsam as it was the easiest way for Kxeyìn to pronounce her name. She was a noble woman, gifted with kindness that was often overlapped with every burgeoning desire to know the Na'vi, much like the rest of her kind. Thankfully, she knew how to keep the others at bay when they came across the Tipani and were prepared to bombard them with questions.
Tsam's days were often occupied with hunting for plants, a pursuit that led Kxeyìn to believe she was a healer. Truth was, she was interested in what they were, not what they could do. But that didn't stop Kxeyìn from helping her with harvesting these plants and flowers she desperately sought.
And while Tsam seemed inclined to have a friendship with Kxeyìn, she was not. The Sky People's track record of lies, manipulation, and harm inflicted upon her People was still fresh in her mind. Sure, the ones at High Camp tried their best to be as peaceful as they could, but their habits, hard as a rock, was impossible to break.
Over time, Kxeyìn's perspective solidified: to her, the Sky People were uniformly tainted. They were all the same, except with various levels of sickness that poisoned their hearts and minds. The peaceful Sky People she encountered were tolerable, but not to be trusted. The ones that hunted her People were to be killed on sight. This conviction was why she never allowed herself to believe a word coming out from their mouths.
But… there was something else about them that she couldn't quite understand.
They were quick to risk their cherished metal ikrans to rescue her People. And one of them, the demon, even joined in. Though, she suspected it had more to do with what it could get out of it rather than to help her People. Still, she told herself, it helped her mother and her People. But apparently not her.
The night they were first introduced to it, the words that dribbled out from its alien crooked mouth was peace or so Neytiri said through her translations. Kxeyìn found herself bewildered by the concept – how could something so intrinsically violent harbor a desire for peace? Could it be a reaction to the Na'vi's resistance, a depletion of their resources, forcing them into a stance of seeking peace? She wasn't sure. Regardless, she was briefly intrigued by this contradiction, at least for that one night before the events that unfolded today, leading her to fall out of the metal ikran because of the demon…
Kxeyìn's thoughts drifted back to the demon. She assumed it must be dead by now, or had abandoned her, far too absorbed in its own survival to come looking for her. Strangely, this idea kindled a blaze of anger within her. It was hard to shake off the resentment, especially considering all she had done to help it when it was hanging outside of the metal ikran.
That cursed demon.
Why did she even bother trying to help it? Clearly nothing good came out of helping it now that she was going to die in this forest, alone. A forest that belonged to the Omatikaya and not to her people. A worse fate than death.
Her fangs bore into her lower lip as she fought back her emotions, struggling to contain her frustration before finally succumbing and releasing a scream into the air. Her hand curled into the mud, bringing the mud into her palm and slinging it into the air.
It made a rather pathetic thud against the grass.
She sighed.