"It's good to see you on your feet again," Parker expressed while trying to keep up with the recom's strides.
"I wasn't in critical condition."
"I thought you had a seizure?"
"Ghost pain," Quaritch corrected. "Who knew dying would have consequences."
"Ironic, it's called 'ghost pain,' considering."
The colonel didn't care for the irony.
Selfridge stopped at a junction, then stared down one of the bends. "I think she's this way," he submitted with uncertainty. When two soldiers strolled past, Parker attempted to ask for directions, but the men just ignored him. "Thaanks. Lotta help you guys were. Jerks," he grumbled under his breath. Lost in the monotonous AMP suit hangar, Parker began circling in place.
Mildly amused by the sight, Quaritch took the opportunity to use his breather. After bringing it down, he asked, "How d'ya get Ardmore to agree to a meeting with me, anyway?"
The question spun Parker back around. Fidgeting, he answered, "Oh, well, uh… Well, I offered to buy her some coffee."
The reveal was met with a raised brow. "You went on a date?"
"Not like that. You honestly think she would go on a date with a guy like me?"
He gave Parker the once over, thought of her whip, then smirked without saying another word.
"Turns out she has a real thing for coffee," Parker continued. "After three cups of the joe, she finally agreed." Though he wasn't lying, Parker purposely omitted one small detail. No amount of coffee or wit or charm could talk the brusque woman into seeing Quaritch again. Parker was out of ideas and money when he remembered something else in his wallet. He presented to Ardmore his trump card: Quaritch's baby photo. After seeing his little blue butt pressed up against glass, the stoic woman deigned to a meeting.
"Oh, well, if it worked…"
"Hey. I think that's Ardmore over there!"
He pointed to a small bay, surrounded by metal fencing, just beyond a row of AMP suits. Selfridge sighed, "Well, I did what I could to butter her up. Best of luck." He smiled, patting Quaritch's calf. The colonel was incredulous to see Parker trying to reassure him. Resting his hand on his head, Quaritch slowly shoved him away and walked off with a snort. Parker briskly smoothed his hair out and exited the hangar, feeling less guilty about the baby photo.
The chief of staff was doing squats with a fifty-pound barbell. She paced herself, exhaling in a controlled manner as she balanced the great weights on her back. She, of course, saw Quaritch strut in but did not acknowledge his presence.
"General Ardmore." He saluted.
She didn't reply but, instead, raised herself once more to complete her set. When finished, she returned the barbell to the rack, then grabbed a towel to wipe her hands, all without granting him eye contact. "What is it?"
"I have a request." He then awaited her response, but Ardmore was silent as she towelled off. She left him standing there for half a minute before eventually rolling her hand, indicating to him that she had been waiting. Ruffled, he spoke. "We're restricted to being ground-bound, whereas the enemy has mobility—the power of flight. With your permission, I'd like to acquire, for our team, banshees of our own."
Her back was to him, but he caught the slight cock of her head.
"With our own mounts, we can traverse wherever we want on Pandora. We wouldn't endanger pilots and save on fuel." He smiled, knowing the latter point would grab her. "I understand we would need a way to bypass the kill zone and, of course, build a belfry for the birds to come roost in. They would hunt for their own food and be trained to return on signal. I was hoping to use this advantage to track down Sully, seeing the threat he poses."
After washing her face in a basin, she finally spoke. "I'll need time to work out the details."
Quaritch hid his feeling of triumph. "Thank you, ma'am."
"But you're not to go after Sully. He's operating from dying link beds. Their radius can't travel beyond five klicks, so he must have link shacks stashed all over the jungle from here to Hallelujah Mountains. I'm only agreeing to this banshee wrangling because it could be useful for our seek-and-destroy mission coming up. If you do encounter Sully, do not pursue. Remember, he's been flying those things longer than you have. Out there, you'd be the greenhorn. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You're dismissed."
Quaritch made to turn when the frosty general suddenly called him back. "Yes, ma'am?" he answered.
"I hope you haven't forgotten."
When the recom could only offer a confused expression, it triggered a subtle but insidious smile upon Ardmore's face.
"The Pandora Effect?"
"No, ma'am. I have not forgotten."
"It's to your benefit that you don't," she reminded, then waved him off.
Quaritch made for the exit but felt that cold nip at the end of his tail as if the bob of fur had been shaved off. At least his request was granted, he thought.
"We're going to what?"
"Get banshees."
Lyle ducked Quaritch's swing as they kept on sparring. "You got clearance?"
"Worked it all out with Ardmore." Quaritch doubled back to escape Wainfleet's speedy punches. "Course,"—he dodged—"it won't be"—he dodged again—"easy!"
"Aren't they carnivores?" Lyle grunted as he wormed out of the hold.
"Worse. They're vegans," Quaritch retorted as he kicked at his legs.
"They are?"
He rolled his eyes.
Lyle grabbed his arm and wrestled him back. "How the hell are we going to—ngh—get them?"
"By asking—nicely!" He punctuated by body-slamming Lyle into the dirt. Quaritch then squatted next to him and held up Wainfleet's braid. "You use this, knucklehead. The Na'vi wrangle a banshee long enough to connect their queue, and that's how they tame 'em. Simple as that."
Lyle groaned as he rolled his aching shoulders. "We have to actually wrestle one? Can't we just use tranquillizers or something?"
Again, Quaritch cast up his eyes. "Now, how you expect to fly a varmint when it's half asleep?" he droned, smacking Lyle's chest with the back of his hand.
Lyle shuffled onto his feet, and the two went to towel off. "How'd ya get Hardmore's approval?"
"Heh. She wants us to use these banshees to hunt the link beds Sully's been using." Quaritch tossed his used towel on the communal rack where they would be collected for washing. It slipped off, and a cleaning serf was about to pick it up when Lyle politely did it for him. Recognizing Zwefnawo, he gave him a nod.
"We're not using them to hunt Sully?"
"Nah. She nixed that idea—thinks it's more cost-effective to put the squeeze on him. That woman could make the eagle on a quarter scream."
"So, when are we getting the banshees?"
"Soon as she gives the word."
CJ was passing by when she overheard the talk and stopped in her tracks. "Wait, you guys are getting banshees?"
"Now, hold on there, Casey. Just me and Lyle will be going first. You'll get yer turn later."
She eyed the smug recom then nudged him. "Why does Wainfleet get to go first?"
"Because. Someone's gotta come back to show you how it's done."
"He's got a point, Casey. Banshees are dangerous."
"Yeah." Lyle smirked at her. "They got all those teeth. Ya might get scared."
She faced him off. "Who says you won't, Baldy?"
"Because I'm tougher."
She scoffed.
"And smarter."
She laughed.
"Don't forget, prettier."
CJ tackled him.
Quaritch stood by, curious to see the outcome of the fight. CJ and Lyle scuffled over the ground before he broke free, and the two squared off. She watched the braggart's smile as he shimmied from side to side, taunting her to come at him. Sparring with Quaritch had taught her a thing or two. Remaining steady, her eyes followed his shifting feet, and she estimated where he would strike. In a flash, Lyle lunged right as CJ dove left. Whipping around, she was now behind him and flew for his queue.
"Whoa, hey!"
"What's the matter, Corporal? Can't handle a little one-on-one with a girl?"
"She fights dirty, sir," he answered while being yanked by the cavewoman.
CJ wrapped her right arm around his burly neck and brought Wainfleet down. Restraining his head between her legs, she plucked up his queue and poised it triumphantly next to hers. She was about to perform the bond when Quaritch whistled sharply. He made the timeout gesture, and the knotted duo froze. Taking out his field guide, paired with the quintessential clearing of his throat, Quaritch began. "Tsaheylu. The bond. An integral part of the Na'vi mating practice. A profoundly spiritual and highly erotic experience." He snapped the book and grinned impishly at the wide-eyed pair. "Now, unless you two kids are fixin' to get married, I suggest you not go entangling that."
CJ, with a knowing look in her eye, brought the queues closer. "Let me come along, or Baldy gets it."
Lyle's eyes flashed helplessly at his colonel. "Do what she says, sir!"
Being dangerously near Omatikaya territory, the ikran hunters had to be dropped off at the outskirts of the Iknimaya region. After some trekking, Quaritch came to a stop before a bluff and surveyed the breathtaking scenery. The misty valley was filled with mighty arches that seemingly held up the firmament and mountains so sovereign that not even gravity ruled them.
At the beginning of time, when Pandora was in her infancy, her magnetic fields bent lava flows, which later hardened into altitudinous arches resembling petrified coronal loops; the results transformed the landscape into an ethereal realm where undeniable energy permeated the air. The same cosmic hands, which could bend stone, lifted the tons of rock whose faces turned into view to judge the invaders.
"Iknimaya," Miles said to Lyle, pocketing his field guide. "Stairway to Heaven. The Na'vi rite of passage. It's here where boys prove themselves men and make the precarious journey to up there—Mons Veritas." He pointed to the fortress floating two and a half thousand feet above ground, where the wild banshees soared.
"Time to prove yourself a man, CJ," Lyle quipped.
"Time for all three of us," Miles reminded. "C'mon. We can't dawdle too long in a spot, or we risk getting ambushed." He guided his team down the bluff to a vine bridge that spanned fifty feet across to a moss-covered boulder hovering in mid-air. The mountains achieved their enlightenment through the unobtanium inside their bodies. The superconductor, when cooled, expelled a magnetic field known as the Meissner effect, causing the massive tons of rock to drift like bobbing icebergs in an invisible sea. The Na'vi cultivated this aerial ocean over thousands of years by manipulating the vine bridges between sections of rocks and thus forming a path to the heavens.
The three leapt from vine to vine, balancing themselves over the slippery green. Polyphemus poked out from behind pink and yellow cumulonimbi to encourage the young warriors, and CJ smiled back at him. Lyle skillfully leapt down the bridge, even catching Miles at one point when he lost his footing. Their commander beckoned them onward, and they reached the crux of their journey, the leap of faith. Suspended lianas passed by the trio in the mountain's rotation; it was the only path to the banshees, and warriors had to leap to catch the vines or die trying. Quaritch locked his gaze on an approaching rope, timed it right, and lunged. He dangled about in the wind until his position corrected and shimmied up the liana.
Lyle did not hesitate and leapt for his lifeline, hooting with joy as he swayed about in the wind without the slightest hint of fear. He sang to himself as he climbed. "Oh-eh spuh-e-aah, oh-eh spuh-e-aah. Luke am'a nah-woot."
Oe speiä luke am'a nìwotx, meaning, "I spring without doubts," was a line from a Na'vi song that Säro had taught him when she heard he was going on his Iknimaya.
CJ's liana was coming up. Quaritch watched intently as she readied herself. Reaching behind to secure her pack and rifle, the woman took a deep breath, threw caution to the wind, and braved the leap—but she fumbled the catch. The colonel shouted in terror as CJ fell down the length, snagging the vine at the last possible second. Dangling over death but perfectly safe, she flashed her commander a cheeky smile, to which both men shared looks of relief as their intrepid lady companion scrunched her way back up.
The three pushed themselves to reach the cave system entrance before the other. Quaritch hoisted himself over the ledge with a victorious grunt, soon followed by Casey, who taunted her lagging comrade as she helped Lyle up. Their leader reminded them not to get distracted; they were in enemy territory, performing a dangerous mission, and they were not to act foolish as he raced them to the top.
Over the hum of falling water came the noisy recombinants as they bounded up the uneven stone steps. Condensation accumulated everywhere inside the mountain gallery, birthing various cascading streams. The air shifted from damp to brisk as the trio neared the exit balcony for another astonishing vista.
Quaritch stopped to pull up his field guide to give the section on banshees another look. "Their roost should be just beyond that bend."
Lyle whistled. "Doc's book sure comin' in handy."
"Doc?"
"Doctor Grace Augustine," Quaritch answered CJ, flipping a page.
"She a friend of yours?"
Both men paused and stared at her blankly before exchanging stifled snorts.
"Well, you read that book so much, so I thought…"
"For information, not sentimentality. Woman was a banshee herself." Quaritch then put away his field guide to remove his pack plus footwear while instructing the others to do the same. Since tough heels would only chafe the banshee's skin and not wanting to be burdened with carrying heavy boots back to Bridgehead, Quaritch tossed his pair over the edge. Lyle watched them spiral down into the jungle.
"I think you beaned a prolemuris, sir."
"Ten points."
CJ scowled at them both.
With Miles leading the bare-footed bunch, they hugged the rockface and inched their way behind many waterfalls when the roars in their ears shifted into a different, more exciting kind. The air became abuzz with screeches and redolent with guano as the young warriors winced upon their reentry into sunlight. Soon, their adjusting eyes beheld the magnificent sight just below.
Sunbathing on a trio of levels was an awe-inspiring convocation of ikrans. The motley dragons stretched their four membranous wings and bared their obsidian teeth in sleepy yawns. Their bird-like eyes pinned or dilated as they surveyed the skies for their feared predator—the great leonopteryx.
"Got your lariats ready, pardners?"
They came prepared with orange nylon coils that hung off their belts. Earlier, they had received lasso lessons from their instructor, the colonel; he never knew his childhood hobby of lassoing fence posts would one day come in handy. Now came the decision as to who would go first.
"Casey. You go," Quaritch commanded; he wanted both him and Lyle present in case anything went wrong, but Lyle didn't get the memo.
"Shouldn't you go first?"
"Do I look like a lady, Corporal?"
Lasso in hand, CJ inhaled deeply and slowly proceeded into the rookery. Quaritch watched as she shuffled past the fanged beasts with his fingers hovering over his revolver. When she did not heed the immediate hisses, their warnings escalated into roars. An orange ikran came towards her, bucking its head in show.
"Scare off the weaker ones!"
She challenged the braggart by throwing up her arms, and the coward flew off.
"All hat, no cattle," the spectator mused.
Surrounded by sharp teeth and talons, CJ faced them off with fiery eyes of her own. Pumping with adrenaline, she began yelling at the ikrans to clear the corral. "C'mon, you chicken-s***s!" she swore, followed by a barrage of gender-specific slurs ironically hurled by a female.
Jaws dropping from her blue rant, the men wiped their laughing eyes dry as she kept verbally assaulting the poor creatures.
Casey practically cleared the whole ledge, but one was not so craven. An ikran of pale complexion, interrupted by intense blotches of colour, snuck up behind the rabble-rouser. Quaritch warned CJ right as the nightmare was preparing to lunge. Immediately, Casey fell forwards to escape its snapping jaw. She was splayed on the ground, petrified, as the animal righted itself to attack. Quaritch drew up his revolver, but Wainfleet pressed the barrel down.
"She can do this."
CJ hurled a rock into the creature's mouth, distracting it long enough for her to recover. The beast came back around to face her off, where it witnessed her bright orange lariat circling the air. She aimed for its head, but the loop slipped off the snout. Before she could perform a second toss, the animal charged. Frantically preparing her lasso again, Casey ran backwards to gain time. The beast unintentionally ran into the loop, and when CJ tripped, the rope pulled taut, clamping the jaw shut.
"You got the b****! Now go for the kill!"
Casey sprung onto its muscular neck, grappling the animal in her goal of winning its antenna, but was lurched from side to side as the riled ikran started bucking around the arena. Holding on with one hand, the cowgirl rode it like a mechanical bull. Unable to keep up much longer, Casey knew it was now or never. She grabbed her queue, grabbed the antenna and all at once, their minds linked.
The banshee stopped.
Casey panted as the neck lowered and her toes touched the ground. Her commander ran anxiously down to her. "Don't dawdle, Casey! Fly the f***ing varmint!"
She voiced an unsure "Yee-haw?" and the banshee dove headfirst over the ledge with the rider shrieking in terror.
The men leaned forward to get a glimpse of CJ spiralling downward and disappearing behind a cottony sheet. In the lull, they exchanged worried looks. Moments later, Casey reemerged in a magnificent breach. She flew back to the cliff, but instead of landing, she swan-dived backwards with a victorious whoop.
They stepped back in awe, pumping their fists and shouting hurrahs as she rode the air. "See you at the pass, boys," she called out and threw them a wink before flying off.
Lyle cast a grin at his colonel. "Her crush on you is kind of cute."
Quaritch crossed his arms in annoyance. "Don't bring it up, Lyle."
"You're not going to pursue her?"
Aghast, he stared back but discovered the man was being serious.
"I know we're soldiers, and there's rules against fraternizing, but it's not like we have a whole lot of options for dating."
"I'm aware. That's why I haven't said anything about your little friend back at camp."
Wainfleet went rigid. "It's not like that, sir," he breathed anxiously.
"No, no. It's okay. I get it. Now, I'm not happy about it, and if you're fool enough to let me catch you two at any point, I'll tan your hide. But I get it. These things happen during war—boys need their comfort women."
Lyle's friendship necklace suddenly felt very heavy.
"You understand that's what it would be?"
He replied with a downcast nod.
"I understand, Lyle. I do." Miles exhaled and looked to the sky, where Casey was laughing happily in the distance. "I admit, I…find it hard myself. Casey's a flirtatious and attractive young woman. She's also the only female—"
"What about Walker?"
"Walker doesn't count!" he hastily asserted. "But as I was saying… She's also the only female in a group of sex-deprived men. But you're not about to see me abuse my position for 'mating privileges.'"
"Is that how you see it?"
"It's what it'd be when you'd boil it down. Any man who exploits a power dynamic for sex isn't worth his salt. Besides, I'm too old for her."
"Not anymore."
The old fuddy-duddy appreciated the encouragement. "You know, I'll be fifty-two this month? If you count my time in cryo and the fifteen years spent in purgatory, I'd be a whoppin' total of seventy."
"Looking good for an old fart."
"Don't press your luck."
"Well, maybe we can find you an old woman instead? I hear Ardmore's your age."
"Nah, not her type. I know for a fact she likes 'em small. Besides, you know I only have eyes for you." He winked, and the two sniggered, but then Miles paused on a thought. "How would we make that work, anyway?"
"Nut to butt?"
Quaritch did a double-take. "Not that! I meant a human and a recom."
"Oh. Would that even be legal?"
"I'm not sure. Jury's still out on that one. For now, we'll have to settle with marrying amongst ourselves."
"We're allowed to marry?"
Miles made a face. "Yeah. What, you thought we weren't allowed to marry and have families? Of course, we are. We're people too."
"Yeah, but as recombinants, I just wasn't sure if we had the same rights as humans. You sure we're allowed to marry?"
"Course—if you don't mind a short minister. I asked Parker myself."
Lyle was entertaining the visual when he suddenly realized something. "Wait… Why did you ask about that?" His sniper eyes then caught the minuscule slip in his colonel's composure. "Were…you going to pop the question to someone?" he queried with a growing smile.
The colonel faltered, trying to come up with a good excuse.
He slapped his knee. "You were going to ask CJ!"
"No!"
Wainfleet didn't buy it. "You were!" The man issued an impressed whistle, for this was the juiciest gossip he had ever heard. "You wanted to marry CJ," he declared once more to cement the truth.
"Lyle, if you don't shut up—"
"Well, what's wrong with asking her to marry you? Where I come from, that's the proper way to do things."
He responded with a surly exhale.
"Don't you love her?"
"Love's got nothing to do with it."
"So you do love her. Then ask!—it'd make her happy."
Miles sighed. "You know the rules, Lyle. Both parties can't be in service at the same time—one of us would have to retire. And If I'm not willing, it's not fair to ask her to."
With a click of his mouth and a shake of his head, Lyle joined his hands over his squatted legs as he watched the clouds. "Poor CJ. You know she'd say yes."
"That's why I'm not asking."
"Gotta say, I'm surprised, sir. Didn't think you were the marrying type."
"You know, I'm not. There was only one other time I actually considered it—had the pension and everything."
"So why didn't you?"
"It meant having to leave Pandora—no place to raise a kid. Go back to Earth. Settle down. Have a family. They'd be short years, yeah, but…" he trailed off, then returned with a shrug. "Well, too late now."