Chapter Text
Spider stares unblinkingly at Quaritch as he puts on his gear, tightening the straps to ensure a better fit. The whole team does so before they take off into the forest. The boy smiles widely and jumps off his bunk, grabbing his bow.
"Hush, tiger, you stay here," Quaritch stops Spider with his hand preventing him from joining the gathering of soldiers.
"What the hell? Without me, you and your team are a bunch of idiots, getting lost even with the use of a map," Sarcastically replies Spider, relishing the opportunity to mock Recoms.
Quaritch sighs ruminatively, realizing that the teen will never shut up about that situation. Yeah, they'd been dropped off at the middle of nowhere, slipped a map and told to search the area. The map looked terrible. If it had just said "overgrown trees and other wildlife" it would have been more informative. They wandered around in circles to the laughter of Spider, who seemed to enjoy the fact that the adults were so helpless in the forest.
"Real cute, punk. But this isn't a recon mission. This is a combat op," Miles says and pats Spider on the shoulder. His words seem to dampen the teenager's enthusiasm. His smirk vanished.
Spider falls silent and frowns. Are they going to use Recoms against Omatikaya raids? The teenager's face shows he is tense, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows as his thoughts wander. His fingers tightened around bow. Would the clan try to take him away if they saw him being held captive by the demon.
"That's why I want you to stay in the barracks before you do something stupid," Quaritch's tone becomes more serious, his words are harsh letting Spider know he's not going, leaving no room for argument.
"Like I wanted to watch you threaten someone again," Spider shorts irritably before he steps away from Recom.
Miles sighs as Spider throws him a final look of disgust. He always did that when it came to the mission to take out Jake Sully. The boy always showed his disgust when it came to killing the Na'vi. The same look of indignation on his face.
"Move out, bird is ready," Quaritch barks before leaving the room, expecting his team to follow him
With a quick step, they find themselves on the launch pad. Samson's propeller rattles before the helicopter lifts off the ground. Quaritch pats Cupcake on her long neck and jumps on top, making the connection. They were allowed to use the banshees for sortie operations, as it cut fuel costs considerably and gave the Recoms an advantage.Though Ardmore didn't look pleased to learn of the blue team's menagerie.
The message received was mixed. There was an alarm from an abandoned base. Most likely the Na'vi had infiltrated it, causing the alarm by their unguarded movements. Quaritch insisted he wanted to be part of the operation. The clan that was harboring Jake Sully was destroying many of the structures and looting weapons and technology. So he was sure that the infiltrator of the abandoned base would know Jake Sully.
It was likely, at least Miles himself thought so. The Clan had stopped attacking working structures, and now that they were out of supplies, they were probably scavenging the abandoned ones. It would be fortunate to catch someone alive from the Resistance.
Cupcake took to the air, following Samson's lead. This was supposed to be a small mission. Come in, check, leave. But Miles was sure they'd find someone who would give them more information about where Jake Sully was.
The wind whips across their faces as they fly at high speed towards the place where the alarm came from. It seemed to take about twenty minutes of flying before they started to descend. Cupcake dived down, looping between branches. Samson hovered in the air, letting soldiers rappel to the ground.
There were seven Recoms and six human soldiers on the ground armed with their rifles. The human part of the team had originally been larger, but after the Recoms joined, it was decided to reduce the use of humans.
The forest around the abandoned base was silent. Only the wind rumbled between the trees. The derelict human structure held little interest for the animals, forcing them to stay away from the metal and concrete buildings. It was unlikely that anyone would venture here without definite intentions.
"Seems the POGs here were pussies," Lyle commented, carefully rounding the animal trap. The research station’s perimeter is littered with traps. Some appear to have been disarmed long ago, their pincers locked in a closed position. Whatever the scientists had been doing here, the place was dotted with devices meant for capturing local fauna—devices that could easily snap human in half.
"Watch your step, soldiers," Quaritch barks, seeming uninspired by the idea that any of the soldiers might find themselves in a claw designed for reinforsed bones.
Miles grips the gun tighter, his finger resting on the trigger, ready to fire if circumstances demand it. He steps, shuffling his feet one after the other, trying to step silently. The grass crunches under his feet as they enter the base area.
The silence is only broken by the loud screech of a banshee hovering over the building. Quaritch raises his head, aiming for the animal in the air. The light blue banshee takes off briefly and flutters in the air before latching onto one of the tall trees nearby.
"How'd we have miss that thing?" Z-dog grins, still holding the animal at gunpoint
Miles' face changes, it's hard to tell if it's satisfaction or tense. He examines the animal through the scope, assessing the equipment. He already knew this banshee didn't belong to any of his team, but the traditional saddle confirmed the hunch. It definitely belonged to the locals, and it was still here, squealing. Which means whoever owned it was nearby.
Without saying a word, Quaritch points the human squad leader to the science base building and chops his hand downward, giving the order to move inside. Then, he turned to his team, drawing a circle with his finger in the air, order to search the perimeter. His expression becomes more somber as they circle the science complex in search of the intruder.
Silence hung in the air. None of them wanted to be caught unawares by the natives. The last time they'd had a run-in with Sully's family, it had ended badly. Quaritch had lost five men then, and all they'd managed to do was get Spider and seem to scare Jake into keeping his traitorous nose out of the RDA business.
Another clash with the Na’vi was the last thing they needed. Still, they had to be prepared. If the intruders had triggered the alert, they knew the risks. A small war party was almost guaranteed.
Quaritch split the Recom unit in two—one group under his command, the other led by Lyle. The plan was simple: encircle the building from both sides, meet at the far end, and confirm the perimeter was clear. That is, unless the human squad captain radioed in with hostiles inside.
Above them, an ikran let out a piercing screech, its wings beating erratically as it darted between the trees. The sudden noise made Quaritch tense, his hand instinctively tightening on his rifle. The creature thrashed in the sky, shrieking as if calling for a rider who never came.
Spider has said many times that these critters are madly loyal to it's rider. They will not leave at will, and will always return if called. And this information only reinforced the fact that they were not alone.
Cutting off escape access to at least one infiltrator was tempting. Quaritch paused, tilting his head toward the ikran, his fingers flexing over the riffle's trigger. The beast locked eyes with him, jaws gaping in a furious hiss, fangs glinting. Behind him, he could feel his squad watching, waiting to see if he’d put it down.
"Shoot if it tries to fly away," Quaritch ordered with a sigh. He wasn’t sure why he hesitated. Maybe bonding with Cupcake had softened him, somehow it made him change his mind about those things. Or maybe the creature would be useful later. Either way, it wasn’t worth a bullet.
Light chuckles were heard from his team behind him, seemingly impressed that the Colonel had decided to pardon the beast. Thought, none of them looked like they wanted to shoot the banshee. That seems to be what set them apart from their genetic predecessors. A human Quaritch wouldn't have hesitated to give the order to shoot the winged creature, or pull the trigger himself.
His ear twitched, in an attempt to ignore another banshee squeal. It was permanently calling for its rider. Either Na'vi was in hiding, having learned of the Recoms arrival, or something had happened to the rider. His lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. The thought of chasing a corpse didn’t sit right with him.
Great, they're might chasing dead rider. If this turned into another wasted sortie with the whole squad… Quaritch sighed, pressing his ears back against his head annoyed at this turn of events. He'd run through enough of this impenetrable forest trying to find Jake Sully's clan.
"Boss, target found. Na'vi woman, trapped. We're near C block. Over," Lyle's voice crackled through the earpiece, reporting their location and what they have discovered.
A smirk tugged at Quaritch’s mouth. Finally. A prisoner—someone he could properly interrogate for the clan’s location without holding back. It was the first real lead they’d had in months. Of course, if the science pukes failed to extract intel again, he’d be disappointed. But he could resort to good old-fashioned methods.
"You heard, we're moving out," Quaritch says in a harsh tone of voice, heading back the same route they came from to circle the building.
The stomping of their feet filled this abandoned place with sound, making it more alive compared to the silent eeriness that this station was. As they rounded another block, Quaritch's team met up with Lyle's team.
His gaze locked onto the Na’vi woman immediately—her leg twisted at an unnatural angle, trapped in the jagged maw of a metal snare. She hissed as the Recoms approached, the sound weak, muffled. Barely audible, even to their enhanced hearing. Her attention flickered away for just a second, fingers clawing desperately at the trap’s teeth biting into her thigh.
"She's in serious condition, what do we do?" Ja stole a glance at Quaritch before he scrutinized Na'vi's leg. This thing had really done the dirty work of doing the near impossible - fracturing Na'vi's leg.
"I'll talk to her," Quaritch smirks, approaching the injured and frightened Na'vi. Her tail whips from side to side as she looks up at him with large green eyes. What was new. He can't help but latch onto that detail. This was the first Na’vi he’d seen whose eyes weren’t the usual amber or yellow—instead, they were a vivid emerald, the color of the forest itself.
No matter, this would have been painstakingly pursued by nerdy lab coats studying deviance, or whatever they'd call it, almost drooling over opportunities to study something new. The Na'vi woman seemed to be studying him back, looking at his human features, such as his eyebrows or the odd hairstyle she thought he had. Like she finding him odd.
But her gaze lacked the burning hatred with which the Na'vi footage showed them looking at humans when attacked. She looked like frightened prey, her chest rising rapidly as she breathed.
"Why are you here?" Quaritch barked, seizing her by the hair, fingers scrabbling for her queue. Her dreadlocks were tied back in a thick ponytail, making it harder to grip.
She whimpers, resting her palm on his forearm in an futile attempt to keep his hands away from the sensitive neural whip. She squints in pain as she moves, hurting herself even more from the trap. Na'vi's mouth opens wide in an 'O' shape as she gulps in another breath of air, trying to deal with the pain.
"I'm asking why the hell you are here, is that clearer?" Quaritch switches to Na'vi, looking into her eyes, waiting for an answer.
"Help," Na'vi whispers through clenched teeth, looking pleadingly into his face. Her face was streaked with dried tears, though none fell now.
Quaritch frowns at her, gripping her neural whip tighter. He didn't want to let Na'vi out of the trap, he didn't know how dangerous she would be even with a major leg wound. Though she wasn't armed with a bow, there was a knife hanging from her woven top. Yet her labored breathing, the pallor of her skin—she was fading fast. Too fast, it's hardly enough to get the information out of her. By his count, from the time the alarm sounded until Recom found the woman it's been about half an hour that she's been trapped in there, bleeding. He even had a little respect for the fact that she was still consciously, defending herself from those who tried to approach her.
He scrutinizes every glimmer of her emotions, observing her behavior, weighing the pros and cons of letting her out of metal claws. Her ears slowly flatten against her head and she lowers her gaze in a submissive gesture, showing her reluctance to attack. She was exhausted and spent the last of her strength on being unshivered and minimally defensive.
"You're coming with us, honey, you try to bite my boys off anything you'll get a new hole in the head," Quaritch lets go of her hair causing her to lose her balance before he points the gun at her "Get her out, now,"
His fingers pressed against the microphone around his neck, reporting to the human squad that the intruder had been found, as well as relaying the coordinates to Samson so that the injured Na'vi could be taken to the Bridgehead.
He didn't take his eyes off the injured Na'vi, his tail swaying slowly behind his back, showing the tension. The barrel of the gun was practically resting against her forehead while Ja and Prager tried to pull her leg out of the trap. She hissed in pain and squeezed her eyes shut tight, the stranger's hands on her thigh, trying to stop the bleeding.
After several attempts, the trigger mechanism was disarmed and the trap's pincers loosened to the point where it could be pulled apart by hand. The leg was a mess of splintered bone and torn muscle, but salvageable. Quaritch had seen worse. Hell, most of them had.
The Na'vi woman shrieked as her foot came free. Everything in her mind screamed that she had to run. The instinct of self-preservation beat at her temples, practically ordering her to rise to her feet. But she remained calm, peering fearfully at the gaping wound in her leg. Unlike Recoms, she hadn't witnessed much combat and such a serious injury was new to her.
She moans longingly in pain, her tail whipping the floor as her leg is carefully returned to its natural position. She turns her head away as her ears are pressed tightly together and tears well up in her eyes. Her fingers desperately dig into the yielding earth as her eyes go dark. She stubbornly refused to scream and cry, just trying her best to stay conscious while the fracture was bandaged and fixed, allowing her to be transported more safely.
"Don't let her die, she's still needed alive," Quaritch grimly mutters, watching as the captive once again bites her tongue to silence herself.
Samson comes down with a thud, landing on the ground where a couple people jump out. Na'vi lazily watches them while Lyle joins Ja and Prager in helping to drag the prisoner to the floor of the airship. Several military personnel try to help put her down properly, crouching down next to her injured side and checking for other abrasions. Ja stays with them as Samson is ready to take to the air.
The rest of the Recoms call for their banshees, ready to head back to the beachhead. Quaritch glances at the animal of unknown Na'vi, which hisses at Samson, flapping its wings but not attacking. It begins to specifically annoy him as it follows the pack of Recoms' banshees, not about to abandon its rider. Stubborn bastard.