Chapter Text
Base "Ash-1" was a scar on the body of Pandora. The RDA had built it in the very heart of the volcanic lands of the Ash People, where the air was so saturated with sulfur and glowing dust that even the Na'vi found it hard to breathe. But for humans, it was a perfect location: a natural shield of magnetic storms and impenetrable smoke. No masks were needed inside the modules, but outside the walls, hell reigned.
Spider hated that smell — a mixture of sterile laboratory ozone and the scent of burnt meat from the outside. He had been dragged here by force, an attempt to break him, to turn him into a "bridge" between two worlds. The RDA dreamed of creating loyal Na'vi, controlled soldiers who would not know Eywa but would only obey orders through computer terminals.
It was here, in the very heart of the "Genesis" laboratory, that Spider found him.
Neteyam wasn't just lying in a cryo-box. He was hooked up to a dozen wires that bit into his blue skin. His long queue was intact, hanging from the edge of the bed like a symbol that even the RDA did not dare touch the Na'vi’s sacred bond. He looked like a broken doll. The RDA had stabilized him after his wound, but instead of healing him, they were "reprogramming" him, trying to figure out how to breed loyalty in the son of the traitor Jake Sully.
"Come on, bro, wake up..." Spider whispered, cracking the lock code.
While the numbers flickered on the screen, Spider’s thoughts raced back to what he had left on the shores of Metkayina. He remembered Lo'ak. How his once bright and reckless friend was now wasting away before his eyes. Lo'ak had almost stopped eating, his ribs protruding through his skin, his eyes becoming glassy. Spider remembered that terrible evening when he found Lo'ak alone with a human knife at his throat — the first attempt, which he had managed to stop.
And Jake... Jake only made everything worse. Every scandal, every shout that "Neteyam was a real warrior, while you only create problems," killed Lo'ak faster than any bullet. Jake blamed his son for carelessness, for the death of his brother, for the fact that Spider had stayed with the humans. Jake believed that Spider had chosen Quaritch’s side, not knowing that the boy fought every day in captivity for the right to be called Na'vi — a right Kiri had given him with her warmth and faith.
The cryo-box opened with a hiss. Neteyam slumped forward, and Spider barely managed to catch him. The Na'vi was too light, too cold. When he opened his eyes, Spider shuddered — there was no life in them. Only a mechanical void.
"Who... are you?" Neteyam asked faintly. His movements were jerky, as if he were relearning how to inhabit his own body.
"Your friend. I’m getting us out of here."
The escape was suicide. They fought through airlocks where RDA soldiers in masks tried to stop them. Spider acted like a madman — he knew that if they stayed, Neteyam would forever become a "loyal" tool in the hands of killers.
Now they were high in the sky. An ikran of the Ash People, which Spider had managed to break in the chaos of the escape, beat its wings heavily over the ocean.
Neteyam sat in front, motionless as a statue. He looked down at the churning waves. The sun reflected off the water, but for him, the world was still shrouded in the laboratory's fog.
"Do you remember anything?" Spider asked, trying to shout over the wind.
Neteyam slowly shook his head. His eyes were empty, glazed with a thin film of despair.
Spider sighed and began to tell him. He spoke of the forest, of the great trees of the Omatikaya, of how Neteyam had always been the perfect older brother. He spoke of Lo'ak, how he had always tried to catch up to him, and how Neteyam had always protected him — from their father, from others, from himself.
"You were the best of us," Spider said quietly. "You were a leader. You could bond with an ikran with a single look."
Neteyam remained silent, listening as if to a story about a stranger. But when Spider mentioned the name "Lo'ak," the muscles in Neteyam's face twitched almost imperceptibly.
Suddenly, Neteyam lifted his hands, staring at the thin fingers that still bore the marks of needles.
"Spider..." he uttered without turning his head.
"Yeah? I’m here, we’re almost there."
"The water... why do I only remember red water?"
Spider felt something break in his chest. He had seen that water. He had seen Neteyam bleeding out in his father's arms. Now Neteyam remembered neither the laughter of his sisters, nor the voice of his mother, nor flying on ikrans. In his mangled memory, only the color of his own death remained.
"The ocean is blue, Neteyam. We’re flying toward blue water," Spider whispered.
"To home," he added softly.