Chapter Text
The defeat remained sea salt on the tongue. Miles clung tightly to Cupcake's neck, feeling weak after the near-successful drowning. His lungs burned from the seawater that had gotten in.
The wind whipped against his face, keeping him from concentrating on flying. Cupcake squealed nervously, sensing her flight partner's inability to calm his thoughts.
This fight hadn’t gone fucking according to plan. Nothing had. Maybe it would’ve been easier if they’d just shot Jake Sully when they had the chance. No one could’ve predicted they’d end up battling both the sea savages and the Sully family anyway.
Quaritch takes a deep breath, which quickly turns into a cough. His body is humming from the grueling battle. Fuck it. He needs a break. There was no way he’d last another four or five hours on an ikran.
"Slow down, girl" Miles pats Cupcake on her neck, trying to calm the agitated animal down
He'd already flown off enough that none of the locals could track him down and bring him back to Sully. Enough to digest everything that had happened. Hell, he's going back to the base without a team, without news of the deserter's elimination, and without his damn son.
He sincerely wanted to return with his son. The little shit had put himself in more danger by leaving him. Spider adored the Na'vi, but they sure as hell didn’t feel the same, especially Sully's rabid bitch. And to top it all off, he was the target of RDA now. He knew too much because of his connection to Miles - connection that everybody in the whole damn knew about. If before he had a chance to save his son from certain death, after running back to the enemy, they’d gun him down like any other native.
Miles sighed heavily, realizing the shit that lay ahead of him. The plan to just go back to the RDA seemed worse and worse. He needed a day to think about what had happened and decide how to proceed. Especially since he was injured and needed to do something about a couple of bleeding abrasions. It's decided, he'll make camp until the navigator has to come to it senses and Quaritch won't decide what to do.
The landing was not a soft one. Cupcake dived sharply downward to meet the ground, then braked, opening her wide wings. Miles, trying to keep his balance, flinched and waved his hand roughly.
Clumsily jumping off his banshee, Miles stroked Cupcake's muzzle, giving her time to rest as well. She let out a yelp in response, demanding food.
"Hush, girl, I heard you" Miles' ear twitches at the loud sound and he strokes his animal encouragingly, in an attempt to placate her
Spider had rambled about Na’vi hunting and their diet. He hadn’t paid much attention at the time, but he remembered enough to know what was edible. His human self had choked down worse during the wars. Surviving on this unruly moon couldn’t be that hard.
His hand habitually reached for the riffle, but finding it full of nothing Miles frowned and quietly whined, not letting his emotions take over.Not good news, especially when you're in enemy territory. With a grunt, Quaritch walked over to the nearest tree and snapped a branch with a sharp crunch.
If the Na'vi child is capable of little to hunting, that means he's damn well handle it. Though the feeling that he looked like a jerk with a stick. If Spider had seen it, he would certainly have left some scathing remarks about hunting in the wild.
The fish flickering in the shallow water quickly swam out. The deeper he went into the water, the more absurd it seemed. Miles stood, still holding the stick in his hand, when the water reached just above his waist.
A sharp blow came at the fish, raising a multitude of splashes. The rest of the shoal disappeared from sight, leaving Quaritch with the stunned fish.With a joyous hiss, Miles grabbed the fish, pulling it from the bottom, practically dunking it with his head. A victorious grin stretched across his lips.
It could hardly be called fishing. More like beating up underwater life. But it worked for food.
The first catch flew into Cupcake's mouth.The banshee shrieked happily, grabbing the food in mid-air.
"Yeah, good catch" Quaritch runs his hand over his face, trying to get the water droplets out.
One fish wasn't a big deal. All that's left is to catch enough not to die in the middle of nowhere.
This time the fish fearfully avoided him, not letting him get close enough. His tail moved from side to side, showing his annoyance, and creating additional currents that spooked the fish.
The hunt was barely underway and it seemed like he'd spent practically the whole damn day catching just a few of these critters. Clearly not enough to get him and Cupcake full, but still was something to eat. All the more reason not to get desperate and eat the maggots.
Probably with God's help the fire was made and the dead fish was impaled with a stick. Old survival shows resurfaced from the memories of human Quaritch.
The meager lunch quickly came to an end. All that was left was him and his thoughts. The sun baked his shoulders irritatingly, threatening to kill him on the hot beach.
Miles stuck a stick into the sand, drawing jagged patterns in the sand. Chasing after the asshole traitor hadn't done him any good as a soldier. People were still dying from the blue natives just the same. To say the least, his whole crew was dead because of them again.
His long fruitless mission at least made sense in that he had developed a relationship with Spider. He didn't think he had parental instincts or anything like it, something skimmed in his chest at the thought of the kid growing up among enemies.
It seemed impossible to fuck up on all fronts. Well, Miles himself was the reason his son ran off with the people who tried to kill him. The kid didn't understand war, generally speaking, and he shouldn't at his sixteen.
He had to get Spider back.Quaritch knew he wouldn't understand him, and would probably only hate him more. But he damn sure didn't want the kid executed by hands of his own soldiers.While the boy was milling around the Sully family, he was one step away from death. It's a damn miracle he was still alive.
Now he just need to figured out how to make it. A direct approach meant a green-feathered arrow between his eyes—courtesy of Jake’s woman. And the sea clans wouldn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat either.
No clear answer came to mind. Sure, a heart-to-heart talk might work—but knowing his son’s stubbornness, convincing a concrete wall would’ve been easier.
Getting rid of the tactical vest, Miles tossed it to the sand, now busying himself with his pants. It was hot as hell on the reef shores. Even in his tank top and pants, the feeling of the baking sun didn't go away. A drop of sweat slid down his temple.
Since he's decided to stay here for a while, he needs a place to ensure he doesn't roast alive. A small, secluded spot in the shade where it can survive the full-blown temperatures. Now he understood Spider’s mocking "You’ll suffocate in all that gear" and why the Na’vi barely bothered with clothes.
Quaritch must have earn some love from local godness, since he didn't even have to leave the island to find a place to camp. A coastline hidden by a rock ledge. Water, shade, basically enough to survive comfortably.
After hauling his few belongings, Miles settled himself against the stone wall. Cupcake kept circling nearby, studying the new terrain. Good. Time for a damn break
Waking up after a little afternoon nap was a bitch. His body ached. No major injuries really, mostly bruises and minor cuts all over his body. Quaritch was a lucky son of a bitch.
He needed a weapon if he was going to take his son. Unfortunately, a simple stick wouldn't do much to kick the natives' asses.
Miles leaned his hand on the stone surface of the wall, soon leaving his makeshift shelter. Glancing at his watch, he sighed, estimating how much time remained before the eclipse. He wasn't going to have to contend with the wildlife in the night.
Wandering the beach, looking for something to defend himself with, was the only option. He didn't doubt that it was possible to make a bow or something like a spear out of the local flora. Quaritch just needed something remotely resembling a knife.
Finding something suitable was a hell of a lot harder than he'd bargained for. There was no problem with the stick, but it was hard to find something to sharpen it with on the "paradise beach".
He finally settled on a sharp fragment of shell, whose edge nearly left a cut on his palm. Miles sat down on the sand, setting the stick down comfortably, and began to make one of the ends sharp. A real blade make it quicker and easier.
His tail thrashed irritably in the sand as the shell almost slipped out of his hand, leaving a bleeding abrasion on his palm. His ears flattened against his head, showing his whole attitude about the situation, but Quaritch wasn't ready to give up. Clenching his teeth, he continues to sharpen his stick. He wouldn't die unarmed in a shithole.
The spear is ready. Perhaps even more primitive than the tool of the natives, but it'd do for now. He pocked the sharp shell, then leaned on the spear and wandered further along the beach.
Two things were obvious. He needed water and food. And hunting with a spear in shallow water was waste of time.
His gaze fell on the vegetation deeper on the island. Miles had only a glimpse of the local flora. He had no idea what was growing here, but he hoped to see similar plants as in the jungle.
The first pod he encountered, in his opinion, wasn't particularly different from the rest of what grew on Pandora. It was a regular oblong fruit, with a fairly thick rind.
Without thinking, Miles tore it off the stem and twisted it in his hand. Bright color was here everywhere. It doesn't mean much. Everything here could be lethal.
"I'll be damned" Quaritch sighs and somewhere to himself he's praying that this unknown shit doesn't kill him.
With a light motion of his hand, he separated the piece of rind from the pulp. The fruit looked juicy on the inside, the released juice slowly running down his fingers.
With a frown on his face, Miles carefully took a bite of the unknown fruit. It couldn't be called a delicacy. It was bitter on the tongue and tasted of something herbaceous. But it was a pretty good thirst-quencher. The locals ate a lot of crap, so it's hardly the worst thing he could have tasted. And it's like he was still alive.
After picking some more fruit of something that tasted like liquid grass, he headed back. He had everything he needed to get through the night and be ready for the next day. On the way back, he gathered various grasses and vines to make a net. Maybe after making it he stop looking like idiot with stick. And it wasn't be a pain in ass.
The eclipse is coming fast on Pandora. No beautiful Earth sunsets. Not that he'd seen many in his human life, almost always the sky was obscured by smoke and steel. But it was different.
Once under the cliff, he dropped the fruit near his vest lay. Basically most of the stuff ended up on the sand, where Miles himself later sat down. Armed with a seashell and the dexterity of his hands, he began to slowly weave a net from the grass and vines he had obtained.
Cupcake raised her head slightly, watching her flying partner's actions with interest. Loyalty was one trait these winged bastards didn’t lack—she hadn’t left his side once.
He couldn't linger long in that shelter. He had to get his son back before the RDAs sent a rescue mission for his ass. This blue body was worth too much to leave the Colonel to be torn apart by the natives.
Quaritch knew Sully and his son were out there somewhere. Miles bloody well saw the boy jump into the water, swimming away toward the grieving figures.
There were about a hundred islands, but he still hadn't figured out where this family was hiding. He had to find it by some miracle before Na'vi will find and decided to kill him.