"No, Spider!" Jake boomed. He paced angrily about his tent before the obstinate adolescent.
"It's the only way," Spider countered firmly. His boldness in staring down the Titan made their size difference almost unnoticeable.
"The answer is still no. I will not put you in danger like that."
"I'm a warrior, Jake. These are my people too. It's my duty to protect them."
Jake's scowl unsheathed his fangs, something he rarely did unless truly upset. "And I'm telling you, you can't sneak into Hometree."
"Jake, someone's got to learn more about these non-linkers. The mole hasn't said anything yet, and they're right in our territory. This might be our only chance."
"Spider…" Jake sighed.
The bold human wouldn't relent. "I'm willing to take this risk. I'm, what, eighteen? Nineteen? I'm not a kid anymore, Jake. I'm old enough to do this." He paused before adding firmly, "And you know I can do it."
He lowered his head and sighed again. He knew Spider was exceptional at spying and often succeeded in sneaking up on him despite his acute senses. Having observed the Na'vi his whole life, Spider absorbed all their ways, including their mastery in stealth. "You could—and you could also get caught."
"I'm a human. They'd spare me."
"You don't know that, kid."
"They spared the people at Hell's Gate."
Jake didn't reply. The truth was he didn't actually know. He betted on it being true for Spider's sake and his own peace of mind. "If you ever got discovered…"
Spider rolled his eyes. "Surrender."
"No!" Jake practically shouted. "You fight. This isn't about you getting caught. It's what they'll do to you afterwards. You know where High Camp is—everything we do is all in here." He tapped the boy's temple, then leaned over to warn in a low, grim whisper, "Do not underestimate what they'd be willing to do to you just to get that information out. They won't care if you're a human. They will torture you."
Spider was rarely, if ever, disquieted, but Jake's warning managed to halt his breath. He shrugged it away with his token grin. "Don't worry, Pops. They'd never be able to break me."
"You're not taking this seriously," Jake mumbled and returned upright. "The answer is no."
"But—"
"I said no. That's the end of it."
The young warrior was fuming, but he could tell by the stiffness of his guardian's back that no amount of reasoning would sway his decision.
Jake was ready to leave when he realized this was his tent and shooed the human out. He palmed his creased brow smooth, dwelling on all that had been said. Spider was right about one thing: he was no longer a kid. The olo'eyktan, who already had two children of his own, couldn't help but take up his songcord and reminisce over their years together.
It was August 24th, 2154, the night Jake returned to the avatar lab for one last video log. After finishing his log entry, Norman had called Jake aside about a discovery he made—a ninth level. Using a janitor's card key, Norman gained access to a strictly classified final floor. The underworld appeared as if a hurricane had gone through it; the whole place was sabotaged, from smashed computers to shredded data, along with unregistered link beds that Norman couldn't account for. As the anthropologist made futile efforts to uncover what research had been conducted, Jake rolled his wheelchair down the dark hall of flickering lights, following the faint sound of crying. It brought him to a locked room where he discovered a toddler huddled in the corner. The boy was petrified, exhausted from crying, and suffering from want of care. He noticed the chapped lips and pulled out a water bottle he carried on his wheelchair to coax the tyke over. Though he was emaciated, the boy still had the strength to scramble onto Jake's lap, where he greedily suckled the water. In that quiet moment, as the Marine doled the little man whispers of reassurance, Jake's heart opened up and then restitched itself with the boy now nestled inside it.
Jake nicknamed him "Spider" for his ability to scale any surface and placed him under the care of a young couple: the Paras. Even after transferring to his avatar, the toddler still recognized Jake, excitedly sprinting up to him for a tussle every time he visited Hell's Gate. He'd roll the little tail-nabber around or chase him about the field before teaching him how to use a bola. If Jake wasn't committed to his Na'vi life, he would have raised Spider as his own; he had that much love for him. To have him as a ward was a privilege the Paras were kind enough to grant him, but he was still their son, not his—a fact that Jake always found himself at risk of forgetting.
He came to the last notch of his songcord and acknowledged Spider's time as his ward was coming to an end.
Spider stomped through the great interior of High Camp. His narrowed eyes trailed along the rock floor, over the pebbles and insects he'd walk over every day without noticing. Inside the tunnel were fluorescent lamps fastened to floating boulders, and he stood under one of the bobbing spotlights that caused his extended shadow to flicker upon the wall. His anger increased so much that he took a stone and hurled it at the black doppelgänger. It cracked against the slate, and the cave was filled with the sharp, clangorous echo. Spider heard a startled gasp. He whipped around and finally noticed Kiri sitting on the floating rock; the alarm in her eyes caused his own to be filled with regret. "I-I'm sorry, Kiri. I didn't mean to scare you."
She dropped down to convey to him, through touch, that she understood.
"You hide in the weirdest places…"
"What is the matter, Spider?"
"Your father won't let me spy on the enemies at Hometree."
"But of course, you can't!" she signed fervently.
"You don't understand, Kiri. I carry this," he said, reaching for the pouch at his waist. "I can foul up their sense of smell. They won't even know I'm there. But Jake thinks it's too dangerous."
"It is too dangerous."
"So is this enemy. We can't take them on blindly. Do you know how many we could lose if we try? I heard that even Neteyam will be fighting. If he's willing to let his own son take that kind of risk, why can't he at least do the same for me?"
Kiri's body went rigid the moment she heard mention of her brother. "Is the danger that great?"
"Yes. These guys are deadly. We should take every opportunity we can to foil them. If I can get in, I could—I could do a lot. Like mess with their guns or learn about their tactics—anything. I'm willing to do this for you."
Kiri looked in the direction of her brother's tent. She thought of him, her parents, her uncle, her grandmother—the fate of her entire family in the face of an impending battle. She returned to Spider. "Because you are a human, they would not hurt you if you were caught, right?"
Spider hesitated, then replied, "Right."
Palm-Palm flew before the setting sun, his black silhouette engulfed by the orange heat of the yawning star. They banked into a gully, flying inches above their speeding reflection. Kiri's vine shawl flapped in the wind as Spider sat in front of her. His entire body was coated in dark blue paint, interrupted by lines of white specks. Their usual happy faces were grave and burdened with guilt; this was the most disobedient they had ever been.
On his princess' mental command, Palm-Palm aimed for a meadow in the forest neighbouring Hometree, and the truants stood quietly at the bank of a stream. Kiri took his hand and guided him into a hug that she wouldn't cease until he prompted her. "I'll be alright," he repeated for a third time, gently cupping her supple elbow—an action for goodbye synonymous with "I care for you." After one more goodbye, she watched her champion cross the stream and steal away into the bush. Left alone, and unable to do more in the way of action, Kiri set her queue to the skin of a lizard tree, so named for its scaly iridescent blue/green bark, and despite it not being a neural interface, accepted her tendrils. The pink locks fastened to the furrowed surface, which produced a glow the flora was not capable of. Kiri then pressed her body against the tree and sent a prayer to the goddess, begging Her to keep Spider safe.
Spider prowled the jungle floor with the adroitness of a cat. Though he had not the Na'vi senses, he had their discipline: the patience to pause from the faintest sound and arrest his every muscle so that not even his eyelids fluttered without his permission. No twig snapped under his weight; no leaf rustled in annoyance as he slowly crawled over the wet, tender undergrowth.
From the setting sun, Hometree was once again set afire. Spider made his way down into the valley where he hid behind a fngapsutxwll: a metal-following plant. When its rubbery satellite swivelled in the direction of Hometree, aroused by the scent of approaching weapons, the haunter of the woods hurriedly took cover behind its thick stalk.
Two recombinants stepped into view, and Spider was amazed when he beheld the militarized Olympians. On their vests, he spied eight cryptic letters that he mentally pronounced as "Prawj Phinix."
"¡Ándale, ya vamos. It's almost night."
"Keep your pants on, Angel. I want to find something to make our rations somewhat edible," Brown replied. With his useful knowledge of botany, the team medic had been trying his hand at cooking. "Food's muy mal." Unconfident with his pronunciation, he double-checked with Lopez. "How's my Spanish?" His friend gestured so-so.
"You know, I kinda miss what the serfs would bring us, not that I don't appreciate you tryin'."
"Thanks. I'll remember not to make a career out of it."
Lopez cocked his rifle and strolled the area, watching for viperwolves as Brown knelt to dig out the plants. With both of their backs to Spider, the spy boldly crawled into view with a handful of innocuous taupe powder and dropped it into Brown's herb bag.
"Hey, you smell that?" Lopez remarked.
Spider halted as Brown paused to sniff the air; the recombinant did sense something new in his environment, but since he couldn't identify it, he returned to his task as the human, very quietly, crawled back to his fngapsutxwll.
An obstinate sprout gave Brown some difficulty. Grabbing it by the stem, he tried yanking by its roots, but the plant wouldn't budge. He dug away more of the dirt and, with one hard tug, managed to free the plant from its hold, along with the weight it was fastened to.
Brown lurched back in fright.
Right away, Angel rushed to his side to see what was the matter and discovered, rolled over in the grass before his friend, a tiny Na'vi skull. Loose dirt flowed from its sockets and down the yellowed cheekbones with the hole at the top, meant for the queue, growing a sprout that Brown had snapped in his force.
Tyler gulped. "I forgot this place would be filled with bones."
Angel found himself fearfully searching the open air. "Believe in ghosts, amigo?"
"No," Brown scoffed. "Don't tell me you do?"
"Me? No," Angel tried to laugh. "But remember—if their spirits returned, it's our throats they'd go after." He suddenly lunged at Tyler, who wasn't going to be spooked that easily despite being on edge. Instead, Brown pushed his cackling friend away.
"We should head back. It's getting late."
Spider waited until they were completely out of sight before stepping into the open. He saw the remains and brushed his hand over the skull as a gesture of respect. The mourner set his eyes in the direction they left in and couldn't hold back his sneer as he growled, "Murderers…"
With night arriving, Spider snuck towards Hometree, his painted skin making him nearly invisible under the cloak of twilight. He came around to the main entrance and easily pulled his little body past the sandbag barricade, then crawled sideways through the shadows until he came upon eight recombinants sitting down for dinner. Spider rested behind the radio cart to listen in.
"So, Angel, how about you serenade us with that voice of yours?"
"Huh?"
"Tyler tells us you have a great voice."
"I can't. I don't gotta instrument."
"C'mon. You don't need an instrument. Your vocals should be enough."
"No. I'm too shy. My cords will tremble."
"Hey, Brown, what did you do this stuff?"
"Nothing I don't normally do."
"Can't taste a thing."
"Me neither."
"Sure you don't want some, sir?"
Spider's heart jumped.
"Help yourself. I did some foraging earlier."
"For what?"
"Cannonball fruit. The Na'vi knock it from its branch to crack open its husk—tastes like chocolate."
"Did the doc write that book?"
"It has most of her notes. Who knew her blatherings would come in handy."
"Looks ready to fall apart."
"Well, what can I say? Knowledge is—" Quaritch suddenly paused, and the recombinants watched in alarm as he started scanning the room with a scrunched nose. They didn't dare ask what he smelt, only keeping the air clear of sounds for him to pick up on whatever he sensed. Drawing his Wasp revolver, Quaritch made quiet footfalls towards the radio cart. He whipped around with weapon aimed, ready to fire—the spot was empty; Spider was smart enough to leave the moment he heard one still had their use of smell.
The other recombinants got up as their colonel knelt to sniff the area. He issued a low growl. "Someone was here…"
"How can you tell?" Lyle gaped.
"Yeah, I can't smell anything," Fike added.
"Exactly!" the colonel barked. With his revolver primed, he ran out of their camp.
The recombinant rushed down the tunnel, mindfully removed three sandbags, then watchfully stepped into the night, prying the darkness for their intruder, who was tucked away at the top of Hometree, flat on his back and silent as a ghost. The nostrils scrunched again, and Quaritch detected Spider's previous scent trail.
The boy, ever so slightly, lifted his head after hearing the sound of brushed flora and, from the bottom of his eyes, spied the outline of a figure—running off in the direction of Kiri.
Kiri had fallen asleep against the trunk, unaware of the peculiar ripples that were pulsating from the link. Above the resting maiden, a bloom of atokirina' frolicked, and the little imps were tickling her skin with their feathery tendrils. When she heard the faint sound of disturbed leaves, the droopy lids raised, and the silent girl voiced a loud yawn. The dryad stretched her arms to the fullest extent, shook the tiredness from her eyes, then came to her feet in anticipation of Spider, but as she stood, the wind changed direction, and Kiri's heart pounded in her breast; she picked up not his pleasant aroma of animal skin but the acrid bite of gunpowder.
The recombinant charged into the clearing, eyes sharp and weapon ready, searching for his prey. He stepped past a lizard tree, irritably whacking away an atokirina' that drifted too close. His heavy boots crushed florets and sullied a clear stream in his repeated circling of the placid meadow. Peering down, he spotted a faint impression of a footprint. Quaritch squatted and, holding his revolver in his other hand, nosed the ground. The scent of man was faint but rich with Na'vi—of broken seed pods and lacquered beads.
Kiri had scurried under the prop roots of a towering tree. Like a frightened rabbit, she huddled against the inner dirt wall, waiting for the threat to leave, but the threat did not leave; it neared. Fearing she was somehow heard, Kiri ceased breathing as she watched a hulking figure inch towards her enclosure. He loomed over Kiri's hiding spot, mouth hung open, tasting the air, and she saw slivers of his image as it passed over her cage of tangled roots, catching sight of the strange ikran imprinted on his arm. She nearly gasped. This was the one her father was asking about.
He stopped over a section that gave her full view of his mean visage. His stench of gun oil and sweat was made worse by the aura of death clinging to his body. His sniffing nose inched closer. Knowing she would eventually be discovered and unsure of what else to do, Kiri reached for her knife. Her trembling hands managed to work it from its sheath, and her mouth unsealed in preparation for the war cry. She had never used a knife in combat before, and the experienced warrior, holding his gun, was now directly over the burrow.
A viperwolf cry in the distance broke the hunter's concentration; the recombinant bent low as he heeded the cackles of the nearing predator who would come with friends. Being far from camp and hopelessly outnumbered, Quaritch abandoned the hunt and returned for Hometree.
Overwhelmed with relief, the girl threw her head back so fast that it smacked against the dirt wall. The howls grew louder, but Kiri left her sanctuary: she recognized the culprit. Stepping into the clearing, with palms cupped around his mouth, was her human, mimicking the wolf cry once more before strapping on his visor. She rushed to throw her arms around her quick-thinking rescuer, and the two collapsed into the carpet of grass. After a moment to collect herself, Kiri signed anxiously, "I saw him! I saw him! The one who has the marking father asks about."
"Are you sure?" Spider signed back in alarm.
Kiri would not stop nodding as she mentally logged down the image so she would not forget. "I saw his ugly face. He was right there." She demonstrated how close he was and it made Spider gulp. "He was terrifying. We must tell, Father! I could draw his face for him."
Spider rushed to grab Kiri's hands to get her to stop signing. "No, no. Kiri, we can't let your father know we were here. We'd get in trouble."
Kiri wrestled her hands free to say, "But I saw his face!"
"If Jake found out how close you were to getting caught—" Spider fretted. "We're not even supposed to fly out at night. He might forbid us from be—playing together."
She was crestfallen. "Then what was the point of coming here?"
"No point, I guess," Spider grumbled. "I managed to sneak into Hometree, but I didn't get the chance to do anything."
"You sure we shouldn't tell my father what we learned?"
"We didn't learn anything important," he dismissed with a shrug. Kiri was upset to see his usual composure gone. "C'mon. Let's go before that bastard comes back."
He took up her hand, but Kiri's gaze lingered where Quaritch stood. Her expression was severe. She turned to her companion and signed, "He stank of death."
Back at Hometree, the other recombinants were eager for news from their returning leader.
"Our intruder got away," he remarked to Walker as he brushed past her.
Brown jogged up to him. "Sir, I examined my herb bag and found traces of a bitter-tasting powder. Someone must have planted it when I was out foraging."
Quaritch scowled at him. "And you didn't smell the culprit?"
"I did, but…" Brown trailed off upon realizing his failure.
"You haven't been improving your skills," Quaritch chided. Turning to his whole team, with a sharp point to his nostrils, he proclaimed, "You forget we have these. You're supposed to use 'em—hone 'em—right down to identifying every fart of every team member and what they had for breakfast. Recognizing scents may save your life. And it nearly cost us ours tonight, Brown."
Tyler lowered his head in shame.
"We had an intruder tonight—a human intruder. For those of you who don't know, Sully carries a boy with him wherever he goes. This 'Mowgli' of his was probably our little visitor. This means Sully now has insider info on our operation."
Brown's anxiety worsened as the other recombinants were angered by the news.
"What do we do, sir?" Lyle asked.
"Go over all our supplies—make sure nothing was tampered with. We double our patrols. Have a door watch. I also want word sent to Bridgehead to bring in more ammunition. Then…we wait." Quaritch's mood shifted, and he became strangely pleased. "I, for one, am rather glad Sully knows we're out here. If we're lucky," he said in a drawl, "maybe he'll show."