Bridgehead was accelerating in its growth thanks to the acquisition of Hell's Gate and its nearby mines. The setback of losing the HEM-OA was a heavy blow, but the optimistic overseers of humanity pushed onward. Like their Roman predecessors, they sought to expand their territory by building forts. The first of these was christened Fort Styx, named after the river it was built next to. Though antiquated in appearance, the frugal conquerors preferred rapid growth over presentation, and this was achieved by utilizing local materials. Umberwood logs were favoured for their incredible sturdiness, and their tips were sharpened to deadly points to discourage the determined thanators.
Taking up fifteen acres of land, the fort served as a waypoint for military craft and housed an impressive arsenal. Conveniently, it was also near the Iknimaya Valley, and the recombinants yet to fledge resided inside its walls until they earned their wings. The last clutch was Warren, Mansk, Walker, Fike and Zhâng. Inconveniently, the fort also had few amenities, so the Deja Blus, once again, exercised their creativity in keeping themselves occupied. Warren took a special interest in drilling Fike, who didn't appreciate the sudden attention.
"C'mon, city slicker. Keep up! You call yourself tough? In my high school team, the only thing you'd be good for is the football," he ragged as they lapped around the interior.
Fike wiped his sweating brow. "I am keeping up, crazy-ass! Why are you picking on me, anyway?"
"You're giving me Johnny vibes. Now, double time! I'll make a pro out of you yet." With another bellow, the drill sergeant forced his victim onward.
Meanwhile, high above the ongoing shenanigans, Zhâng was perched on a horizontal rail holding up the palisade. With his assault rifle in hand, he listlessly surveyed the quiet jungles.
"Hey, Zhâng," Mansk called up. "Why so blue?"
Everyone within earshot groaned.
"Really, Sasha? Really?" Walker complained. "If we hadn't already heard that a million times."
The guilty man shrugged. "Is the joke not funny anymore? I still chuckle." Walker was unimpressed, as per usual. Sasha lent his brother another glance. "He carries a frown all day. Why?"
"Why else? He misses CJ."
"Oh, is that it." The Russian Blue gave his condolences. "Yes. Separation is tough. I miss my buddy, Samson."
"Yeah, about that. When did you two become a thing?"
He put an arm around her shoulder. "Jealous, Bridgie? Do not worry. My heart is big enough for the both of you."
"I don't like sharing," she quipped before shoving him aside.
"You should. It's a virtue. Isn't that what Buddha teaches?"
"Don't be cute with me. Wait, did you actually read the book I gave you?"
"Every word."
Bridgette tried to hide her smile.
"Samson did too."
"Okay, you ruined it."
"Aww, Petunia." Mansk jogged in her wake.
The forlorn Zhâng observed the pair, oblivious that he was captured within the spying lenses of a nearby enemy.
Secreted in the trees, not far from the fort, hid Sully with a small band. |"Camp has five recoms and thirty armed men."|
|"That camp will be another thorn in our side if we let it grow."|
|"I know, Äi'ut. Because of these recoms, there's no opening for an attack. They are much tougher to kill."|
|"Can we not kill that one from here?"| another asked.
|"You do that, and you bring all of them upon us."| Jake handed him his binoculars to explain. |"You see those things that look like drums? They are turrets. One shot of a turret is equal to five hundred and twelve shots from my gun."|
The Na'vi lowered the binoculars with a deep exhale. |"The power these aliens harness is impossible."|
|"They are compensating."| Äi'ut snorted.
|"Neteyam, you are part of this group. What are your words? Neteyam?"|
Neteyam's eyes were not on the fort; his back was to his team, watching the skies despondently. He whistled several times to no response. His father pressed his shoulder. |"She still has not returned."|
|"I'm sorry, son. Before the day is over, we can look for her again."|
|"She has never been away this long before."|
|"You must trust in her survival instincts."|
|"She is white,"| Neteyam sighed.
|"Hey, hey, hey. I know for a fact that you can be white and still survive on Pandora."|
Neteyam eyed him curiously, not understanding his point.
|"Come, we need to meet with the others to plant the next field cabin. It won't be long before they all have ikrans, so we must act fast."|
⊕
A few miles away, at Sosul Syanan, a white streak soared across the sky. White Flower carried in her mouth a dead zawrtsyìp while fending off the tetrapterons that wanted her kill. Diving away from the pesky flock, she entered the forest, where she glided her way down into a darker section of wood. Reverently, she approached a shadowy den that emitted a low grumble. White Flower dropped the food onto the ground and, with a flick of her head, sang an invitation to dinner. From its shadows, the occupant slowly emerged. Exposure shed light on her perforated wings, and she approached the tribute with a limp. Using her nose to inspect the fresh kill, she approved the offering, then downed the hairless monkey in one swallow. White Flower crawled towards the matriarch and nudged the bottom of her snout with hers. Upon receiving the approval, she lovingly rubbed her head and licked her wounds clean. Together, the dark and light ikrans returned to the den for a nap and, in their huddle, formed a yin and yang.
White Flower had not forgotten her rider and would return, but not until her mother could fly again.
⊕
A Samson tiltrotor hovered over the glade as it lowered a field cabin. Several Na'vi jumped off their ikrans to undo the harnesses, and Jake signalled to Norman, piloting the craft, that the drop was detached. The xenoanthropologist, who never went through flight school, had taught himself how to fly after first receiving lessons from his lady love. With her image painted on the side of the Samson, Norman flew the "Trudy" back to High Camp.
Two SciOp defectors exited the cabin to receive a bag of plastic explosives from Jake. "Be careful with these babies," he warned them. "They pack a punch. Easy. Easy. Careful now."
"You're a worrywart, Jake," sang the blonde.
"Don't make me sedate you, Charity." He grinned.
They took the bags and reentered the musty shack, going to work cleaning everything so it appeared to be recently used. Once polished, they wired up the detonators and planted a hidden camera system, cobbled together using scraps of leftover technology.
"How are you doing, Ilram?" Charity asked her companion.
"Good. Just finished with the wiring."
The woman waved from the window. "We got it, Jake."
The olo'eyktan then climbed atop the cabin with a bundle of fronds clutched in his mouth. He laid them over the roof to partially hide the cabin but also allow gaps for the solar panels to collect sunlight.
Charity leaned on her broom to appreciate her work. "I wish his plan didn't include destroying what few link shacks we have."
"I know." Ilram sighed. "He's become obsessed with these recombinants. This plan hurts us more than it hurts them."
The woman worked her broom into the stubborn corners. "The beds may not work, but the cabin is still good. It's so easy for Jake. He doesn't need what we need to survive on this world."
"Yáng rù hǔkǒu."
⊕
A swarm of aircraft fell upon Fort Styx with screaming engines announcing their arrival, birthing swirling dirt clouds that obscured the fleet as it made contact. The alerted recombinants stood to attention, and their commander emerged from the gritty screen. Just overhead, Wainfleet and Zdinarsk sailed in on their ikrans, and it chagrined Quaritch that he couldn't arrive in similar fashion. The two veteran riders came strutting over to join the team. When Zhâng saw CJ, his mood instantly improved, and the pair greeted each other with high-fives.
"Zhâng. I understand you were ambushed during your Iknimaya?"
"We fought them off, sir."
"Good to hear."
"Hey, Daisy, check this out—brought a gift from Pops." Lyle tossed his buddy a viperwolf-skin football that was enthusiastically caught.
"Hey, old man," Fike taunted Warren. "Let's see if you're as good a quarterback as you say."
"Oh, ho, ho. You're on, kid. Just been waitin' for the opportunity." He chucked the pigskin a good way for Fike to tail after; however, Quaritch sharply whistled him back, and the team regrouped.
"Listen up. Now that we have our rides, it's time for our mission—seek and destroy link shacks Sully's been operating from. Zhâng. You and Casey are to do a sweep up north for ten klicks, then circle back."
The duo fist-bumped.
"Fike, you go south with Thomas. Sasha. You and Walker head east."
"Bridgette doesn't have a banshee yet, sir."
Surprised, Quaritch focused his attention on the uneasy woman. "Walker, why haven't you completed your acquisition?"
"I, uh, thought it was optional."
"Those banshees aren't a suggestion—they're essential to our operation. Is there a reason why you're hesitating?"
"No, sir."
"Then you get on it yesterday. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Alright, Sasha. You'll be staying here to hold the fort, then." Quaritch gave the signal to move out. CJ and Zhâng wasted no time racing each other to their ikrans; Zhâng's was perched on the fort wall, and CJ was impressed by the fiery patterns that made it appear like a baby leonopteryx.
"Don't look him in the eye. They take that as a sign of aggression," he warned.
"He's sick! What do you call him?"
"Fènghuáng huǒ."
"Phoenix Fire? Sweet."
"Bet he's faster than Baby's Back."
"You're on!"
Zhâng whistled his ikran down, and the two swiftly mounted their dragons.
"Eat my dust, Z-Boy!"
Wainfleet sashayed over to Fike's ikran, also perched on the wall, and gave his approval. It was teal and green with a unique crimson tail. "Slick ride. What do you call him?"
"Redtail," he answered proudly. "Made the bond in forty-five seconds flat."
The boaster clucked. "Twenty-three."
Quaritch reentered the tiltrotor. "Lyle! Get a move on. We're rolling out."
"On it, sir." He finger-whistled for Ballistic Missile and mounted him with a running leap.
Mansk stood alone in the middle of the fort as he watched everyone depart. His gaze drifted to where the cargo was protected under tent overhangs, and there, on a crate, lost in thoughts, was his drooping Petunia. Avoiding the busy soldiers going about their work, Mansk made his way over.
"Bridgie?"
"What is it?" she chuffed.
Slapping the bugs alighting on his neck, he took a seat on a case across from her. "Why don't you tell the colonel?"
"I don't want to be treated like I'm handicapped."
"You can't bring yourself to even look at a banshee. Sounds pretty handicapped to me."
"Don't lecture me, Sasha."
"Tough girl must be tough." He shrugged, taking up his canteen to smear his nape in cool water.
Walker was growing agitated under his half-lidded and non-judgmental gaze. To put her at ease, he offered his canteen, and she took a hearty swig.
"Look at me." He shrugged. "Took an axe to the head. My whole forehead was split open, but it didn't go deep enough, so I didn't die instantly. It was a slow, dragged-out extinction. Guess what I did?"
"What?"
"Took up shop class with Samson."
"Are you kidding?"
Mansk shook his head. "After we lost that beautiful HEM-OA and got back to the city, we decided to check out a workshop. Slicing wood through all those bandsaws—I made a horse."
Walker's mouth hung open. "How did you manage that?"
"Samson was there. He was trampled to death by a direhorse, so I gave him my craft. He keeps it in his cabin and wakes up to it every morning."
"Macabre."
"Yeah. Sometimes, Samson comes to me during one of his panic attacks, so I hide it for him. Then, after he says he's good, I hand it back."
"Does... Does it make the pain go away?"
"No," he replied honestly. "But it makes us tougher."
Bridgette had no words, her head slowly sinking back into her palms as Sasha came over to rub the trembling back.
⊕
Blood ran up the clear syringe and filled the barrel completely. Needle removed, Max dabbed Kiri's arm with a cotton ball.
"Thank you, Kiri. That's all I need."
She tapped the sides of her open palms together.
The scientist was in the middle of transporting the vial to a foam slot when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Kiri signed a question, so Max looked to Norman for a translation.
"She wants to know why you want her blood."
He smiled at her. "We're going to analyze it—learn more about your origins."
The girl cocked her ears.
"Finally find out who your father is," Norm explained.
She shook her head. "But we already know that it is you."
"Et tu, Kiri?" Norman sighed in defeat.
"What'd she say?"
Kiri giggled as the bachelor simply grumbled. "Anyway, I'm heading out now, Max. Gotta help Jake set up the last shack."
"He's really gunning it on this bombing plan." The engineer looked at a large screen to his right that displayed the interior of several cabins.
"We haven't gotten any bites yet, but Jake suspects that that'll change once they all have ikrans."
"I liked it better when they were less mobile."
"I liked it better when they were dead."
Norman donned his field vest and exited the clinic. Through the damp system, he climbed up a network of rock steps and entered a grotto, where Trudy was parked. The "garage door" exit to the outer world was hidden with camouflage netting. Flicks of sunlight shone through the slits and danced on the opposite wall. Norman met up with Jake, who was waiting for him.
"Norm, you ready?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm ready. Last link shack, thank god. Can't believe I'm letting you do this. You know the odds of them finding even one of these?"
"Means one less recom," Jake swiftly answered. "They want to hunt me and my family—this is what they get." Norman found the intensity in his friend's tone to be peculiar for him. "Besides, there's one spot I know will be checked."
"You mean the battle site?"
"That's the one. Knowing him, he'll go there again. I have cameras set up everywhere in there and a live feed transmitting directly to my tent. The moment he sets foot in that cabin, I got him."
"You're not usually like this. It's a little scary."
The man said nothing, only aware of the fears that drove him. He finished balling up the camouflage netting, and sunlight cleansed the grotto. The cave-dwelling human winced from the sudden transition. Norman then entered the cockpit and sealed the cabin shut before removing his EXO pack. He activated the engines and rolled the control stick as he prepared to maneuver the aircraft. Enduring the deafening sound of its engines, Jake used his forearm to block his braids from whipping across his face as streams of air collided around. Once the tiltrotor moved out, the olo'eyktan whistled for his ikran, and Jake sky-dived off the cliff. Activity around the rock garage suddenly ceased, save for one element that went unnoticed.
Below the grotto, perched on the ledge like a gargoyle, was Spider. He was nestled in the discrete spot for one reason: to get away. Without Kiri, he suddenly felt out of place among the Na'vi and began separating himself from their company. Her absence made him realize she was the binding of his life's tapestry, and once that thread was pulled, everything started to unravel. Only one constant remained, and Spider just overheard the shocking news that his mentor planned to sacrifice those bones, along with his only means of uncovering the truth. Collecting a sample had been in the back of his mind and only ever emerged as a passing thought, but now it was at the forefront, yelling at him to act. After weeks of telling himself otherwise, the foundling realized that he did care and that he hadn't a moment to lose.
Spider climbed back into the grotto and dashed for his cabin to gather the needed supplies. Although well aware of the sheer danger he was up against, he was determined to make this expedition alone without Kiri's protecting aura, as he was not about to make the same mistake twice. Equipping a fully charged battery pack and loading his quiver, the risk-taker was ready. There was just one last thing he needed to do.
⊕
The apprentice sat next to her teacher in the pagoda, trying to be one with her surroundings, but her mind was elsewhere. When a pebble came down and bounced off her leg, Kiri looked up and found Spider wedged within the skylight. The rays coming down bathed his body in gold, and he wore a halo bestowed by the light refracting through his visor. When their eyes met, so much relief and happiness was exchanged it was as if they hugged across the distance. He tried to shimmy down further to get a better view, but Kiri signalled him to stop, for he was dangerously close to falling.
"I'm truly sorry for getting you in trouble."
Spider shook his head and signed, "I will never hold you at fault."
"I feel like a traitor."
He again shook his head—harder than before. "Never, never blame yourself. I was wrong. I am sorry."
"When can we see each other again?"
"I do not know."
"I miss you."
"I miss you too."
For a moment, only their eyes did the talking. He moved his hand over his chest, and Kiri awaited his next words, but Spider hesitated; she never knew him to stutter and read the inner conflict on his face. His fingers continued to stall, and Spider kept telling himself he need only pat his heart twice, confessing to Kiri she possessed more than one. Thoughts warred inside his mind until the victor emerged.
The forearm pulled up for the palm to bow, "Goodbye," and the golden irises could do nothing as they watched the figure climb back up the shaft.
At the top of the mountain, the young man stood alone with his ungifted sun lily. The view afforded him one of the most beautiful sights on all of Pandora, but all he could think of was the girl below and his failure to express his feelings.
Right there, he succumbed to his knees, and every feeling of inadequacy came rushing out in a torrent for Pandora to bear witness to. He could no longer ignore the reality that he was doomed to a life where he could never realistically be with the only person he wanted. The overcoming power of love was unintentionally flaunted before him every day by his mentor, but it meant nothing when Jake had the luck to obtain an avatar while Spider was shackled to his race.
Past his tear-stained visor, he glimpsed something blue, and the mimic remembered the stripes he painted on his arm. No matter how many times he bathed himself in her waters, the raven could not blanch his feathers and make himself a swan. In a fit of rage, he took a stone and chafed his body, crying out in anger as he removed all evidence of his folly until he was a sorry, raw mess.
With nothing more to say or do, Spider scowled in resolve as he forced himself to his feet. He rejoined with his quiver and secured it to his back. Casting one last look at the skylight, he set his crumpled flower on the rim and left.
Eywa gently breathed.
Eventually, the meditation session came to an end, and Mo'at stirred her granddaughter awake. When the girl looked down, she noticed the orphaned flower lying in her lap. Feeling sorry for its wounds, she placed it next to the budding sprout at her feet, hoping that somehow its dying life could benefit from the new one.