Chap Seize
"Its been 6 days since they left.
I don't know how long they're supposed to be gone but…
Something just doesn't feel right"
The swell of the ocean waves rose and fell at his ankles, the image of sand and rocks below being distorted and stretched. A calming breeze gently ruffled through his braids- but Lo'ak felt far from calm.
It felt like a storm was brewing up inside of him- a tornado, to be more exact.
Swirling chaotically inside of his stomach, building and building, gathering worrisome and anxious thoughts into an amalgamation that clouded his thoughts and crawled like insects throughout him.
"The Ash People are dangerous, unpredictable"
He stared blankly across the vast, rolling mass of the ocean- staring, but not seeing anything. He gazed in the vague direction of the island, or, at least, where he thought the island might be. What were they already there? Of course they were, the journey was meant to take half the time they'd been gone. When were they coming back?
His father was strong- the strongest warrior ever seen, as far as the clans thought. So was his mother. They could very well defend themselves against any potential threats.
But those people…
"I know we need the medicine for Tuk,"
Dread threaded its way into his mind, worming steadily into his stomach. His tail lashed. The stories he'd heard… Images weaved of words flashed behind his eyes. Pictures of blood and gore, of entire clans- decimated, burned to crisped ashes. Of men - great warriors – captured and enslaved, brought to their lowest in prisons of bedrock and brimstone.
Images of war, of battle, of carnage beyond belief. Of lawlessness and instability.
"but I think they never should've gone"
"Hey, forest freak"
Lo'ak was suddenly snapped out of his anxiety-induced reverie. He blinked- once, twice. Wiping the remnants of his reverie from his pupils.
Aonung's faintly bemused face became clear- he waved a finned hand in Lo'ak's face, effectively waking him up from the dream-like state that had so thoroughly taken him in.
"Wake up"
At first, he just stared. Wondering how on Pandora he had just spawned in front of him- wondering what he was even doing out on the beach in the first place. Then he remembered…
"Oh"
His gaze drifted to his side, where the three other friends he was hanging out with stared back with puzzled frowns.
Sroi, Xolo, Mika'yo and Aonung- he'd tramped out onto the beach together, making good on his bet that he could skip stones farther than any of them combined. The thoughts of his parents and how wrongfully alarming the situation they were heading into felt had utterly consumed him to the point he'd been transported to another place.
He shook his head as if to toss out all his mind's bleariness and apologized.
"Sorry guys, kinda got carried away"
Mika'yo let out a snort, rising up from where he had previously been squatting, combing through the damp sand for the perfect skipping pebble. He stepped back from the shore, the ghost of a disguised smirk twisting his lips.
"Well, if you do not move now, you will really be carried away"
Lo'ak cocked his head, confused. He parted his lips to ask exactly what he meant when a sudden, whooshing sound came up behind him. His surprised yelp was cut off as the wave washed over his back, taking his legs out from under him and casting him to the pebbly, sandy floor.
Raucous laughter echoed in his waterlogged ears as he lifted his face from the water, coughing and sputtering, gritty particles dusted over his face.
The guys stood a little way up the beach, holding their stomachs, cackling like a herd of damn syaksyuk. He felt his ears burn hot with embarrassment and he pushed himself to his feet, shaking the droplets from his extremities as he approached.
"Knock it off, dickheads, wasn't even that funny"
Xolo righted himself from laughter's stupor, trying and failing to wipe the mirth-filled grin from his face.
"Oh, it was"
Lo'ak took a swipe at him, unable to keep himself from grinning as they all dissolved into another fit of chortles.
The boys took the rest of the day to their shenanigans, the troubles ailing away in his mind forgotten for a time. He felt his spirits lift, the slip of ease allowing him to enjoy himself, detach himself from the worries that aged him beyond his fifteen years.
It soon became too cold to hang outside anymore and the pendant ultimately decided to retreat into the village's warmth, escaping the fierce gale that nipped at their wet skins.
Despite the lightness of his mood, in the recesses of his mind he knew… knew all too well.
This peace would not last long
_-8-_
It had been six days. Six sun ups, five sun downs. Six sets of 24 hours since everything went to shit… or so he had thought.
About a week ago, he had been sitting around the communal fire, indulging in the richly delicious and admittedly a little slimy meal of legumes and choice cuts of meat, dabbling in the astonishingly strong liquor the Ash people served with ever half-cycle feast.
He'd mingled amiably with the locals, he and the rest of his squad sinking comfortably into their seemingly never ending shows of awe and admiration. It was nice, the way they looked at him. Glorifying the features the other clans found less than ideal, marveling at concepts the rest of Pandora scorned.
Then that bastard had to go ruining everything.
All of a sudden, the people around him had snapped out of their conversations, heads whipping around in the direction of the forest, ears pricked and alert like dogs at the shriek of a whistle. A second call had them scrambling, charging single-mindedly into the woods, yipping and ululating with rage.
He hadn't been able to see what had gotten them so worked up, the crowd was too large, too thick to even attempt to plunge into its core.
It turned out he didn't need to.
News travelled fast around these parts, and that didn't exclude the recoms.
Sully had been captured. Dragged, kicking and screaming, by a mob of Txekamwey Na'vi. Imprisoned in a dingy little stone hut along the outskirts of the main village. The mockery of an army that had come with him suffered the same fate- his serial killer wife, too.
Miles had been astonished at the news of the sudden capture of his nemesis. All the efforts, all the endeavors made by the RDA to locate and capture him, it was all utterly of no use now. He was right here, practically presented to them on a shining, silver platter. The pinnacle of all his stress and resentment, the man who had made his life – both of his lives – a living hell- was just there, completely and utterly defenseless.
He was one gunshot away from ending this shit, one call away from dismantling the Na'vi insurgency.
It would be all too easy to pull some strings here. The Ash people already harbored some deep-seated hatred for the other clans, given the amount of disdain they spoke of them with and the sheer extend of their isolation- wouldn't be too hard to spout some bullshit, stir up some tempers and get the fucker executed.
But the Na'vi would still fight.
They'd carry on resisting, running around like a headless chicken until they managed to appoint a new head honcho. In fact, Sully's murder would only serve to further incense the rage his corporation had directed at them. Increasing the brutality of their attacks and ultimately racking up more losses for the human side of things.
No, he needed to figure something out. Steal their stability out from under them. Truly cripple the natives into submission, all whilst keeping their losses on the down low.
And Miles had just the perfect idea.
The Txekamwey loved the humans. Finding endless fascination in the arsenal of machines and weaponry they had brought with them when scoping out the island. They'd really struck it good with these people- amiable relations, eager to learn their ways, and generously willing to trade some of their minerals. They didn't follow Eywa or any of that complicated spiritual crap the other clans worship; they didn't freak out when Selfridge ordered excavation expeditions into the mountains for jewels. They understood each other- much more than the Omatikaya, whom the science geeks had spent literal years studying did.
They shared similar ideologies and opinions to each other.
But no matter how deep their love for human culture went, they loved their chieftess more.
Varang authorized the boundaries between the humans and Na'vi- what they could and could not touch, where they were allowed to and forbidden to step, all that jazz. If he wanted to initiate his plan into motion, he would have to ask her.
The island of Txeptseng was vast. Bigger than any he'd ever seen on Pandora- and that was a lot, considering how he ransacked all those islands looking for Sully, he'd seen big. This, you couldn't even walk half of it in a week. The terrain was rough and rugged, tall grass made it hard to see what exactly you were stepping on, not to mention all the hills he'd have to climb.
Miles' legs ached like anything by the time he reached the outskirts of the village. The recombinant soldiers' quarters were far out from the Txekamwey villages, closer to the supply drop-offs and operating SCI-OPS containers. As he was yet to tame one of the direhorse creatures for himself, he'd had to suffer through the brunt of the journey on foot.
The people loved human vehicles, just not too close to their homes.
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, sighing through his nose as he looked over the sprawling village landscape from his elevated vantage point. Only a few million more steps to go, he thought with an internal groan.
Village life was at its peak. People hustling and bustling about, running errands and carrying conversations with each other in fast-paced Na'vi. More than a few villagers stopped to greet him, signing the traditional Txekamwey greeting with friendly smiles on their faces. He returned the gesture with a smile of his own, drifting his hand across his chest before balling his fist and extending it out to them as it opened.
A small sprig of warmth sprouted in his chest. These people had been nothing but welcoming to him and his men all the while they stayed here, happily opening the doors to their rich culture an d lifestyle. He had grown an affinity for them, their amiable and lively nature, it was a wonder why the other clans badmouthed them so much.
The villagers' dwellings were huts of stone, constructed by heaping massive cut slabs on top of each other to make the four walls, with tightly woven fabric and thatch for a roof. The olo'eykte's was by far the largest.
It was quite a bit larger than those of the normal villagers. Sparkling minerals and gems were hammered into the stone, glinting like multicolored stars against the inky black rock. Great strings of beaded regalia cascaded in sheaves against and in front of the doorway, serving as a beaded privacy curtain as well as a decoration.
Miles' sharp hearing caught the sound a few steps before he reached the large hut. His ears pricked up with interest and he slowed his approach. There were voices emanating from inside. One angry, one reasoning. He recognized the voices of olo'eykte and tsahìk.
"We cannot do this; it goes against the code" the tsahìk, Zímí, spoke.
"And why not?" Varang's voice sounded, agitation clear in her tone. "They have seen the lay of our lands, we cannot let them go"
Miles wasn't really one to eavesdrop, overhearing hearing the wrong thing from the wrong person could get you killed, after all. He could tell who this conversation concerned, tell how important it was. But this could be a pivotal piece in the request he was about to make.
If Varang stood firm in her decision, there would be no need for him to go the extra mile. If tsahìk managed to sway her, he would have to go the hard way.
He crept around the side of the hut, out of sight of its inhabitants and any potential Na'vi passing by.
"Tsmuke, please, do not do this. You risk the anger of the mountain"
There was a long, soundless pause, then a defeated sigh.
"Alright" Varang sighed "but, at least consult the seer, it would be foolish to let them go with such information"
There was a shuffling sound, then the sharp clinking of the beaded entrance as the tsahìk took her leave. Now was his chance.
He waited a few minutes to make it seem like he'd just arrived before approaching the doorway. He could hear her pacing inside, walking around and around in a circle, muttering to herself.
Apprehension and anger radiated off of her being. He could feel it through the wall.
All of a sudden, he was rethinking his decision to go in. He could see flashes of her through the beaded curtain. The current turn of her mood might not mean good news for what he was about to propose, especially since it concerned the captives kept further down south. Maybe it'd be a good idea to wait for another time, when things weren't as infused with tension.
Just as he was about to abort the mission and walk away-
"I can hear you shuffling outside, are you planning on coming in or do you want to turn to stone first?"
Shit.
His heart startled at the sound of her voice, cursing himself for forgetting the especially acute hearing of the Ash Na'vi. He slid a hand between the strands of the beaded curtain and slid a bit of it to the side, stepping inside.
The inside of the hut was shaded and cool, it would've been dark if not for the small round lamps hanging like glowing, orange opals casting a warm light over the interior. A ring of twinkling gems was embedded into the stone floor, arranged in such a way that it vaguely resembled the outline of a flame.
The same design had been hammered into the walls and the ceiling- only smaller and with jewels of varying colors.
Varang stood a little further in. Despite how her voice had sounded, she didn't look angry, instead regarded him with quiet attentiveness, ears pricked and gaze calm.
"Good evening, miss Varang" he greeted her, performing the traditional Txekamwey greeting. She returned the gesture, dipping her head respectfully to him.
He couldn't help but notice the way the setting sun bounced off the jewelry adorning her clothes, the way it cast orange and gold rays of light against the walls. The bright, sun-colored regalia bore the same shade as her eyes, twin pool of dazzling warmth, an exact mirror of the sunset. The ombre red and gold precious stones contrasted sharply with the cool gray of her skin, it reminded him of little peeks of sunshine in a great bank of clouds.
"Well? What is it you wish to say?"
Miles was struck out of her stupor by her words, giving his head a startled little shake as if to fling the reverie from his mind.
Right. His mission.
"Right, uhhh" he scratched the back of his neck, letting his gaze drift to the ceiling "I came to inquire about the prisoners"
He could see her visibly stiffen. The muscled along her jaw tightened, but her expression remained lax. That the slow, wide lashing of her tail were the only signs that the topic bothered her.
"I know some of 'em, I'd like to request a visitation"
She didn't react- at least, not physically. She remained still, silent, studying him over with those eyes of liquid amber. He shuffled awkwardly under the intensity of her gaze, feeling suddenly self-conscious. For a moment, he was worried that she would refuse, but then she nodded, slow but sure.
"You may go," she said with an approving nod
Relief melted the wall of anticipation that had built up within himself and he physically deflated, feeling the tension crackle down and his muscles relax. He could go forwards with it after all. But…
"But,"
There's a but.
Miles' relief was short-lived. There was probably some condition or compromise he needed to fulfill to be allowed to go through with his plans.
"You must take an escort with you; to eliminate any chances foul action"
Once again, he felt relieved.
000
A while later, Miles was waiting along the fringes of the village.
The toe of his boot tapped repeatedly against the gravelly ground, he periodically took a glance at his watch, watching the minutes tick by. He knew the land was vast and would take more than a while to traverse- but that didn't stop the itch of impatience from brewing up inside him.
He leaned up against a towering boulder, crossing his arms over his chest as he surveyed the reaching expanse. On top of how long he was made to wait, the sun decided to up the ante, beating down with merciless abandon against his blue skin.
Miles wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, wishing in earnest he'd gotten a pair of sunglasses from Mansk. He felt like he was being cooked alive inside his clothes, practically baking inside his tank top like a dang beef burrito.
He was thinking of giving up, thinking of just walking off when – finally, finally – one dark silhouettes rose up against the landscape. About damn time.
A soldier, carrying an obsidian-tipped spear, glided towards him through the long grasses. Miles rose to meet them, perking up at being able to get out of the sweltering heat.
The man dipped his head, signing a quick greeting to him. Miles recognized him as one of the warriors to first let the RDA to their villages. Numong was his name.
"Good day to you, uniltìrantokx" he greeted, "we will take you to spe'etu tsenge"
Miles gave a nod, glad to finally get a move on.
Txeptseng had a sort of temperamental weather climate. One minute it would be shining, the next its raining cats and dogs. He found these flip-floppy episodes to be annoying and inconvenient- he'd wake up to a downpour, dress right for cold weather, then bam! Its sunning out less than twenty minutes later.
Such an episode was on its brink right now.
Clouds hounded the pale blue sky, bullying the sun from its high pedestal, banishing its heat. The wind let out a mournful howl, frazzling the leaves of the trees and conducting the swaying grasses. Miles had ultimately taken to abandoning his jacket, choosing to brave the dredge head-on. It wasn't really that cold when it rained. Better soaking wet than sizzling.
It wasn't long before they got to the place the place where Sully was kept- speteng, or something like that.
A dingy little rundown standing alone in the yellow-grass field, crumbling and cracking away, more or less decomposing right before his eyes. Three dozy-eyed men stood guard around its exterior, though, they seemed to be doing more snoozing than anything.
Miles' approach put them on alert, jolting them out of the half-asleep stupor. They stood up straight, ears pricked and eyes alight. The tips of their spears glinted in the half-light and the winds carried away their barked commands.
Numong calmed them down and identified himself, explaining the reason as to why they were there. The guards, now pacified, stepped aside, revealing a gaping dark, square doorway.
It was something out of a corny horror movie prompt. Some unsuspecting dude going into some ramshackle of a building, tricked into meeting someone, only to find some sorry excuse for a ghost or murderer lying in wait.
He had to blink a few times to adjust his vision to the impossible darkness. The place had literally no windows, just a single, rectangular doorway where the light spilled in. For a moment, it appeared to be deserted, the long shadows being the only inhabitants of the rundown hut. Then a shuffling caught his eye.
Out of reach of the light, huddled miserably in a corner, were just the people he was looking for.
Jake Sully.
Miles' ears turned down and a frown tugged at his expression. The last time he'd seen Jake, he was on the receiving end of a chokehold, feeling the life ebb away from him with a pair of legs locked around his throat.
The man's eyes were bleary, unfocused. For a fraction of a millisecond, he seemed not to recognize Miles. Then it washed over him.
The confusion turned to recognition, and then to pure anger.
"You?!"
Sully's snarl echoed off the stone walls, alarming his four roommates into looking his way. Their expressions mirrored his. Disbelieving, horrified, and immeasurably enraged. Miles felt a spark of satisfaction in his soul at the twist of Sully's expression. He lifted his chin, pocketing his fists into his cargos as he strolled a few taunting steps closer.
"Looks like we meet again," he drawled, tail swooshing widely behind him as he looked down his nose at the war leader, "traitor"
Mrs. Sully let out a hiss, looking every bit like she wouldn't hesitate to slit his throat. But she couldn't. None of them could. Chorded round their wrists and ankles was a thick, brown spool of rope. It shackled them to the wall, making them as harmless as a bunch of caged mutts- all bark, no chance to bite.
Her eyes were white-hot with rage. The sheer force and malicious willpower behind them could laser a hole through a titanium vault. He looked away, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
"How…? What are you doing here?!" The disbelieving rasp in his voice was all too priceless. He'd really thought he had won. Really thought he had succeeded in killing him. Ha!
Jake's fists clenched, visibly shaking with the extent of his fury. His glare promised countless death threats, a million lifetimes of suffering and torment. Miles just smirked.
"I killed you… how- why are you-"
"-alive?"
His sentence was interrupted. Miles tilted his head, tail flicking in amusement. Sully's jaw locked. He laughed.
"I've told you this already, Sully" his nine-foot frame towered over their crouched ones, casting a black shadow onto them.
"You can't kill a marine. We'll just regroup in hell"
"And I'll be damned if Pandora ain't the closest thing to one"
_8_
Na'vi Dictionary
Syaksyuk – prolemuris / Olo'eykte – female clan leader / Tsmuke – sister / Uniltìrantokx – dreamwalker /
Phrases
Spe'etu tsenge - Place where captives are held (spe'etu – captive / tsenge – place)