Recombinant Bridgehead

First Impressions

Spider woke up in a warm, soft bed inside a quiet room with light streaming through the window, not on a cot in a cramped, fluorescent-lit field cabin. In his hypnopompic state, he lay there basking in the sensation as if it were some bizarre dream. The Thurstons gave him a spare bedroom down the hall from where their children slept. It was tidy, with a set of clothes laid out on the bed, and came with an adjacent bathroom. He was safe and secure, the family told him, but Spider didn't want either of those things. He sat up and inadvertently pulled the skin tissue healing over his wounds. He moaned. Resting his arms over his knees, he contemplated all that had happened. The reality that this was his world now—Bridgehead: the enemy nation of Na'vi killers. He palmed his bare face and moaned again, taking it all in.

There was a hard knock on the door, and it was Harvey, ordering him to shower, for breakfast would be ready in exactly half an hour, and the military man was not going to tolerate any tardiness. Fortunately for Spider, he was accustomed to waking up before the sun. He hobbled out of bed with a wince and shuffled his way to the shower. The interior was more akin to the washroom of a space station with its steel surface and strictly functional aesthetic, not giving way to the slightest bit of frivolous décor. When he was given a tour the day prior, he failed to ask how to operate the showers, as the handles had no descriptors. Spider fumbled with them and yelped when a sharp spray struck his back. He shut it off and slammed the wall—civilization was overrated. He tried again, this time fingering the handle until warm drops trickled out. Spider was used to bathing under cold waterfalls where the refreshing chill would invigorate his muscles and keep his mind alert, but he had to admit, the hot water was nice.

Spider inspected the ugly button shirt, and he was reminded of his old family, the Paras. It occurred to him they would be somewhere in the city, so Spider made a mental note to seek them out when the chance arose. He tied back his dreadlocks and went down to the dining room for breakfast. The family was already sitting at the table, so when he stepped in, he made himself known by nervously greeting them with "Kaltxì."

The spoken Na'vi caused the Bridgeheadians to freeze until Harvey silently directed their new member to sit next to him.

"You speak English?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Then use it."

The corpsman returned to his food without another word, and his family silently copied.

Mr. Para may have been stern with him at times but was never intolerant towards his Na'vi appreciation. He shrugged it off and began breakfast, but the moment he tasted the synthesized pulp, he dropped his utensil.

Harvey smacked the table. "Mind your manners!"

Spider was struck dumb. He could feel the others stare as he gawked in fear at the unfeeling patriarch. In the past, he had the freedom to retort, but here, in this strange land, there was a new set of rules to obey.

The young man bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

"You are to refer to me as 'sir.'"

Spider hesitated. "I'm sorry, sir."

Harvey accepted his apology. "I know this isn't what you are used to. That's why I'm allowing you a few days to adjust. After that, you'll be enrolled in school."

"School?"

"I don't know what your previous education entailed, but here at Bridgehead, you require a well-rounded one before moving up."

"Yes, sir."

"You have no idea how lucky you are, Miles. You have been given a five-tier status and a lucrative sponsorship, so show some gratitude."