Recombinant Bridgehead

Parents

Ardmore sat in her dark room, watching computer screens while sipping coffee. She favoured dim settings for deep ruminations, where light could not distract her. She drank back the bitter liquid as she thumbed the stolen songcord. Turning over the asymmetrical nuts, beads, and coprolite, she unearthed, hidden under a half shell, a silver glint. She picked off the bracelet, severing the cord that held it in place, and studied it under the desk lamp. As her eyes ran over the engraved letters, she read aloud Spider's real name; this confirmed what Quaritch had told her, but Ardmore could not figure out why the product of a one-night stand would be given a fancy identification bracelet. She flipped it over and discerned a serial number. Confused, she reached for a handset and brought the receiver to her ear.

"This is General Ardmore from the maximum security section regarding captive zero-eight-zero-eight-five-two-one. I have discovered on him a baby's identification bracelet with the name Miles Q. Socorro. I have confirmation from Recom Officer Quaritch that this is the son of his former pilot, Paz Socorro. There is a serial number on this band. That number is seven-seven-nine-dash-six-five-zero-dash-PNA."

Ardmore finished sending up the information and put away the receiver, still intrigued by the band. Her studious eyes went from the name to the boy on screen. Quaritch was staying alert and using the breather in moderation, while Spider was fast asleep, curled up in one of his arms. She had watched the recombinant come over to pluck him up upon seeing him shiver in his sleep. It was these touching displays of affection that she was hoping for; otherwise, her plan would not work.

⊕

Brown exited Quaritch's cabin. "You're right. He's not in there."

This made CJ even more worried. "He's been gone since yesterday."

"Did anyone see him leave?" Fike asked.

"Last I saw him was yesterday in the wash house."

Lyle scratched his head. "He might be in the city."

"But where would he have slept?"

Knowing that their colonel was also prone to pseudoseizures, Lyle, like everyone else, began fearing the worst. "Walker, get the RTV. Everyone, grab your throat mics. We're gonna search the city in groups, starting from the ward. You all wait for me by the garage. I'll be back."

"Where you going?" Fike called out as Wainfleet jogged away.

"To ask the serfs if they've seen him."

Lyle hurried across the plantation towards their camp, but when he arrived, the area was empty. A few animals were nosing the ground, and a direhorse trotted about. Lyle knew where they could be found and continued onward to a building farther off.

It was a wooden structure not dissimilar to the schoolhouses of the nineteenth century, with its quaint build of rickety planks. The recom stood on the steps and peered inside as the village was receiving their daily English education. Zwefnawo was standing before his desk, reciting the words on the blackboard written out by their teacher, David Chatterjee.

"The girl ran," the Na'vi articulated. "An' jumped."

Lyle's eyes spanned the classroom, where he saw Säro peering over her shoulder upon hearing his boots. He waved her over, and Säro, after first dismissing herself from the class, went outside to join him. Away from view, the couple embraced only quickly, for Lyle had pressing matters.

"Säro, has my colonel come by at all?"

"No. He never comes here."

He sighed in disappointment. "Great. I'm going to be out looking for him. I might not come back for a while."