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“Colonel.” The familiar voice of Wainfleet drew his attention. Popping open an eye he spotting the approaching Recom. He’d heard the other coming before he’d even spoken, the Na’vi senses stronger than those of the long dead human body his uploaded consciousness remembered. “Shift change.”
With a huff, he sat up, hands running over his face, before stretching out the crick in his back. They’d stopped to get some much needed sleep during the night, but he’d been unable to do more than rest his eyes. Memories and mannerisms of a former Marine meant he was always on edge. Assurances from the kid that the place they’d bedded down in was safe helped little. Every snap of a swig or eerie, far off foreign call had Miles itching to grab his side arm, ready to defend them from an unknown enemy.
“Alright, Corporal, get yourself some rest.” Instinctively he picked up his M69-AR before he left Wainfleet to hopefully sleep in his place.
Gun in hand, he made his way around the perimeter, looking for anything out of the ordinary, listening for any hostility. The Na’vi ears moved as he strained his hearing, brushing against his cropped hair. Even after the last month acclimating to his new body, it felt abnormal, though it no longer made him absently itch or bat at the strange sensation.
Walking the perimeter of their makeshift camp, his eyes scanned the thick jungle underbrush. Everything was lit up with the hazy light of bioluminescence. Even the moss under foot glowed as his boots contacted it. In Pandora it was never truly dark, something that it oddly had in common with Earth, though he considered the constant illumination of city streets far more comforting than those of the alien plants.
In the pale light his vision could only see the movement of their newly acquired mounts. The creatures were having an easier time resting in the undergrowth than their new owners. Some were curled up in the leaf litter, while others had hooked their claws into the trunks and branches of the trees surrounding the small clearing. At times they would flick their tails or wings to get into a more comfortable position, or let out quiet wobbles at their neighbors before settling down again.
Idly he looked for his own. It’s appearance wasn’t much different then the others--they all looked damn near the same--but his had a black mask over its eyes that bled into its red chin crest. It was also a deeper blue then the rest, hints of purple trailing onto its wings.
For a moment, when he couldn’t find it, even after taking a head count of them all, a spark of anger rose in his chest, momentarily thinking it had wandered off without permission. That ember of fury ebbed quickly into embarrassment when he caught sight of it by the far edge of camp by the roots of one of the towering trees above. It seemed to have sensed he was looking for it, the creator’s head swiveling to meet his gaze and let out a chirping call.
To keep the creature quiet he walked over. Like a dog pleased to greet its master come through the door, it bumped his shoulder with its snout. He dropped a hand from his gun for a moment to brush its smooth, hardened skin. Somewhere in his uploaded memories he recalled the feel of a wet nose on his hand, and fur against his fingers.
“Back on duty already? That’s some crazy dedication.” The sarcastic voice nearly made him startle, only his ingrained training keeping him from jumping back. Reclined on the thick root barely a foot above him was Miles--or Spider as he preferred to be called. The kid was smirking at him, pleased that he’d caught him off guard.
He let out a snort. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping kid?”
“Could say the same to you--what was that, like, less than an hour?”
“We take shifts--someone has to keep watch.”
The light from all the plants reflected off of the plastic mask, making it hard to read the boy’s expression, but from his voice he sounded unimpressed by his answer. “Yeah, but I already told you it was safe here. We’re too high up for any Thanators or Viperwolves and Strumbeest don’t come this far north.”
“Says you.” He said, glancing around the small camp. “I’d rather see it with my own eyes.”
There was a pause, Spider sitting up. Through the odd reflection of himself on the mask’s surface he could see the kid giving him the stink eye. “So you’re saying you don’t trust me? After I helped you guys nab your own Ikran? I thought navigating Pandora was why you brought me along in the first place?”
He’d known Spider for all of a week, but already he’d caught on to the fact the kid hated being seen as useless, let alone stupid. He was proud of his expertise on Pandora and all things Na’vi. He was keenly aware the boy held back some things, but for the most part he was eager to show off all he’d learned growing up with Sully and his band of rugrats.
“Don’t take it personally, kid, it’s Marine thing.” he tried to placate. “We’re--”
“Highly trained, specialized soldiers--yada yada--I know all that crap. Mr. Sully told me all about it.”
His eye twitched at Sully’s mention. Of course he’d already opened his big yap and explained the Marines to Spider. Just another thing he couldn’t teach the kid about.
“So, why were you out looking at my bird instead of sleeping anyway?” He changed the subject, wanting to drop Sully from their conversation.
Spider rolls his eyes. “It’s an Ikran not a bird.”
“I know what the damn thing is--it’s just a saying. Things that fly are birds whether they’re beasts or machines.”
The kid laughed, pleased he’d managed to get a raise out of him. He had to give the boy credit, he was more than a little spirited. Not many people wanted to mess with him just for fun. In fact the memory of Miles Quaritch really only supplied one person who’d teased him with such blatant disregard for his intimidating demeanor.
“I was looking her over.” Spider said his eyes moving back toward the banshee who gazed back with a pleased clicking noise. “Was surprised I could get as close as I did. Usually Ikran are pretty snappy to anyone who isn't their rider. Only Kiri’s ever let me get so close.”
He eyed the creature, who happily bumped his shoulder again. “It’s female--how can you tell?”
“You didn’t know she was a girl--you formed a Tsaheylu with her. How could you not know that?”
Thinking about it, he supposed he had known deep down it was female. When he’d managed to stick the end of his braid into the banshee’s own whip-like tendril there’d been flashes of images that he distinctly knew were from the creature’s own mind. One of those had been of eggs and of feeding the resulting hatchlings.
“I was asking how you knew, not how I was supposed to.”
Sometimes when he talked to the kid he felt like he was being treated like a child himself. Again he got that distinct feeling when Spider let out a long sigh, as if he was tired of explaining what should have been preschool shit.
“This pattern, with this shade of blue--only the females have it.” Spider told him motioning to the banshee’s back. The creature's natural bioluminescence outlined it rather nicely making it easy to see even in the soft light of the Pandoran night. “Also the tip of her tail is a little rounder than that of the males. Her front claws are more curved too. Norm says it’s because the females spend more time hooked to rocks then the males--feeding the young, you know.”
He shook his head a bit, not seeing the differences all that much. It impressed him though, the eye for detail the kid had, as well his good memory. It appeared he listened to the egghead scientists just as much as he did Sully and his brats.
“Whatever you say kid.” He pulled himself up onto the root next to Spider, making sure to point his M69-AR away from the kid and the animal. “I’ll leave the banshee sexing to you.”
“So, what did you name her?”
“I hadn’t thought to.” he admitted freely. “Is that necessary?”
The kid looked at him as if he had said something offensive. “Of course it’s necessary--everyone deserves a name. She carried us all the way here and if she’s stuck hauling your butt even further I think she’s more than earned one.”
He raised an eyebrow a bit taken aback by the boy’s passion for such a small, ultimately meaningless thing. “You want to name her?”
“No,” he snapped, shaking his head in exasperation. “ I mean, yeah, I’d love to if she were mine, but she’s not. You’re her rider--you have to name her.”
The bitterness in the kid’s voice ran deep. How many times had Spider dreamed of having his own banshee--his own Ikran? Probably more than he’d ever care to admit. Yet, despite growing up on Pandora it was denied to him--he didn’t have the proper parts. Yet, someone who had been cobbled together from spliced DNA and the dusty memories of a dead man had waltzed in and achieved his dream as if it were nothing.
“Is there some sort of trick to it?” he asked knowing he couldn't offer the kid any comfort or consolation. He couldn’t give him a damn exposed extra spinal cord or whatever the hell it was. “Some special naming convention I need to follow?”
Spider shrugged his shoulders. “Nah, dude you just name it. Some Na’vi put a lot of thought into it, but Mr. Sully just named his, Bob. Simple’s fine.”
“Bob?”
The kid nodded with a smirk.
“Well I can’t do much worse than that.”
He looked at the creature who started back, making more pleased noises at being noticed. She seemed to enjoy attention, perhaps why she wasn’t as ill tempered as the rest and had let Spider sit near her. In a way that pleased him. How many of his memories were of hating the Pandora wildlife because they were so violent, so ready to attack. It was nice to find one that didn’t want to eat anyone’s eyeballs for breakfast.
That thought made him recall their flight together. As Spider had said, the link the Na’vi could form with other creatures was a two way street. Just as he’d seen images from the banshee’s life, she had gotten some from him. One in particular had fascinated her. Through the bond she had sought it out multiple times.
A mural on a wall. It depicted various cartoon animals of fantastical colors, with trees in the background. It wasn’t well done, most of the drawings out of proportion and goofy looking to even an untrained artists’ eye. Yet that was maybe the point since it was put there to help children smile. Somehow it had a similar cheering effect on the banshee, and she had eagerly asked for it multiple times during the long, boring stretches of their flight.
“Suzie.” The word felt quietly from his lips, as he dropped a hand so she could nuzzle her pointed nose into it. There was a rumble from deep in her chest almost like a cat’s purr.
He could feel the kid staring at him, studying him. He wondered how much his Na’vi face gave away. With their massive googly eyes and the lack of time he had occupied the body it was difficult to school his face to make it unreadable.
If Spider picked up anything but his hard exterior he didn't say anything about it. Instead he smirked, giving him a nod.
“Suzie, eh?” With a bold sort of bravery Spider reached over and gave the Ikran a scratch on the head. Maybe it was because she was so uncharacteristically friendly, but Suzie happily accepted the attention. “Not what I would have called her, but not bad.”
“It’s better than Bob.” He sneered, placing his gun in his lap so he could tilt Suzie’s head up by her crest with both hands. “Right girl?”
She let out a quiet chirping hiss, rubbing her head against his open palms.
“Well she certainly thinks so.” He looked over at the kid, strangely hoping for some sort of approval. Spider looked back with a tight smile, and a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, it’s better than Bob, alright?”
“Damn right it is.”