Chapter Text
Year 2146
8 years before the Battle of the Hallelujah Mountains
(otherwise known as Ayram Alusing)
“Good morning,” Alma Cortez nodded curtly at each of the Na’vi children in the room, addressing them from the front of their sterile, brightly-lit classroom. She gestured toward the holoboard behind her. “Let’s review The Ambassador Program.”
Tamtey turned her attention to her tablet, a slim device glowing softly with the contents of the day’s lesson. She was cramped in her RDA-issue seat, preferring to crouch in her seat instead of sit. Her tail swayed lazily behind her, keeping her balance and exercising what little movement she was allowed during class time.
Alma continued. “When the RDA discovered Pandora—”
“You can’t discover something that was there all along.” Her sister interrupted, speaking up from her seat behind Tamtey. Tamtey turned, noting her sister’s lashing tail and narrowed blue eyes.
“Aha’ri,” Alma chided, “When we say discovered, we mean it was the first time humans came here.” Alma’s five-fingered hands rose in a placating manner. “When we arrived, we realized that this was an opportunity to create beneficial relationships with the indigenous people—”
Humming sounded softly from behind Tamtey and she swiveled in her chair. Aha’ri hummed their clan’s song, leveling a glare in Alma’s direction. As Alma spoke, Aha’ri’s humming increased in volume. It was the start of a not-so-silent battle of wills. Tamtey flicked her eyes between Alma and Aha’ri, and tension created a tight knot in her stomach. The beads of her mother’s songcord clinked softly against the tabletop as Tamtey dragged it to her chest, trying to soothe her growing anxiety by running her thumb over the frayed leather knots and faded beads.
In dismay, Tamtey noticed Alma’s own tail begin to lash as Aha’ri grew even louder, the Avatar’s irritation showing as she abandoned her place in the front of the classroom and began to walk down the center aisle. Ears pinned against her head, Alma resumed their lesson, though Tamtey could sense the attention of her fellow Na’vi classmates starting to slip.
“We created Avatars, like mine, to help create relationships with the Na’vi,” Alma continued, “And when you graduate, it will be your job as ambassadors to reach out to the Na’vi clans, and to help us to create those alliances.”
The door hissed as it opened, Director John Mercer and a soldier walking into the room. Alma’s ears swiveled in their direction, but she remained steadfast in her lesson. “Can, um, anyone tell me how that can be done?”
As Mercer approached the first row of seats, Tamtey sank in her seat, lowering her head and avoiding eye contact with Mercer and the soldier. Her heart thumped, and she knew her voice would shake if she tried to answer. Aha’ri continued to hum, and Tamtey saw Mercer’s eyes narrow through the glass of his mask. It was always harder to read his expressions under the mask that allowed him to breathe, and that made the pale man harder to predict. Dangerous. Tamtey, at ten years old, was still slightly shorter than Mercer, and she knew he was still more than capable of leaving bruises when his ire was provoked.
Stop, she wanted to hiss at her sister, can’t you see you’re angering him? Still, her sister hummed. Their clan’s song was soothing in most cases, when one or more of them awoke from night terrors and needed comfort, but this was not the first time Aha’ri had chosen humming as a form of rebellion. Any expression of what they remembered of their culture was strictly forbidden, yet Tamtey’s sister cared the least out of them all.
“Aha’ri,” Alma hissed, stepping to the front of Aha’ri’s chair and raising a hand in warning.
Teylan, seated at the table across the aisle from her in his trademark RDA ballcap, stood and interjected with a strained smile, “The RDA can share their medicines, technologies, and knowledge!” He kept his back straight as he stood, arms pressed to his sides, tail motionless, eyes and ears lowered submissively. A good little soldier. At eight years old, he was baby-faced with too-long limbs. He wobbled slightly but righted himself, attempting to stand tall and proud. To Mercer, he would seem eager to provide the right answer, but Tamtey knew him better. His eyes flicked nervously between Mercer, Alma, and Aha’ri. He was trying to fix things before they got bad.
“That’s absolutely correct, Teylan.” Mercer said, eyes not leaving Aha’ri. Teylan nodded curtly, dropping his gaze. With the movement, Tamtey caught the sour scent of Teylan’s own anxiety. In fact, Tamtey realized as she swept her eyes over the room, each Na’vi student showed signs of stress. They knew, as well as she, that something was brewing.
“Director Mercer,” Alma said, addressing the man, “we have been going over TAP’s mission as you requested.”
For the briefest moment, Tamtey’s shoulders loosened. Alma would ease the tension, surely.
“Why would Na’vi want to have alliances with you?” Aha’ri spat, meeting Mercer’s eyes with a glare.
“Aha’ri,” Alma warned.
“Alma.” Mercer interjected sharply, silencing the Avatar woman at once. Alma lowered her eyes and stepped away from Aha’ri.
“You have no idea what life is like out there, Aha’ri,” Mercer began, stalking towards Tamtey’s sister. “It’s savage,” the word was uttered with disgust. Mercer chuckled humorlessly and shook his head. “We found you as children after your can abandoned you; we have given you a future, a purpose.”
Tamtey’s breath shuddered as she saw Aha’ri’s ears pin flat against her head. Sister, no!
“Our clan would never have abandoned us,” Aha’ri hissed in perfect English. In Na’vi, she cried, “He is a liar!”
Tamtey gasped, hastily replying in Na’vi. “Sister, stop!” The beads of her mother’s songcord clinked noisily as she raised her hand towards Aha’ri in warning. Her heart skipped a beat as Mercer’s eyes darted towards her, towards the treasure clasped in her hands.
“I allowed you to keep that dirty trinket under the condition it remained in your bunk, hm?” Mercer took slow, measured steps towards her, coming to a stop right in front of her chair. He looked down at her, humming condescendingly. “Hand it over.” He ordered, offering an outstretched hand.
In an instant, Aha’ri vaulted over her table, landing in front of Tamtey in a crouch. In her left hand, she snatched the tattered songcord from Tamtey’s grip, tucking it safely into a pocket in her cargo pants. Her right hand enveloped Mercer’s wrist in an iron grip.
“It was our mother’s!” Aha’ri cried, tightening her grip on Mercer’s arm when he thrashed. “It’s not a dirty trinket,” she snapped, “You don’t even know what a songcord is!”
“Aha’ri,” Mercer said tightly, attempting to pull his arm from Aha’ri’s grip once again, “It’s just a broken string.” The pink skin of Mercer’s wrist and hand was starting to pale. Aha’ri was cutting off his blood flow. “I know this is difficult for you,” Mercer said, “but you have to accept that your mother abandoned you.”
“Liar!” Aha’ri shouted, releasing Mercer’s wrist, choosing to stare him down instead. Tamtey sat frozen with fear. Aha’ri may be stronger than Mercer now, at fourteen years old, but she wasn’t stronger than Alma in her Avatar body, and she wasn’t immune to the bullets in the gun Mercer’s soldier carried, either. The air was thick with tension.
Mercer backed away from Aha’ri, anger written on his face. “You all know the rules,” he snapped, “No physical contact. No dinner for any of you!”
“Director Mercer, sir!” Teylan squeaked, possibly in protest or in acknowledgment. In a surge of movement, Mercer slammed his hand against Teylan’s desk. The sound was loud in their sensitive ears, and the Na’vi students flinched.
Without another word, Mercer and his goon left the room.
That night, Tamtey woke to the sound of fearful gasps and her sister’s footsteps against the concrete floor of their bunk room.
“Ma Nor?” Aha’ri questioned, perching on the side of the bunk Nor and Teylan shared. Nor, on the top bunk, thrashed and whimpered, caught in the throes of a night terror. “Nor, wake up!” Aha’ri said firmly in English. He woke with a shout of terror. In Na’vi, she soothed, “We’re with you, it’s okay.”
Sweat shone on Nor’s face as he sat up. “I dreamt it again,” he muttered in Na’vi, “The night they took us...”
Nor jolted as Teylan kicked at him from the lower bunk. “You’re supposed to be speaking English on base!” He accused.
With a hiss, Nor jumped down from his bunk and landed in front of Teylan, shoving him. “When you cry out at night, Teylan, you cry out in Na’vi.”
Teylan bared his teeth and retaliated with his own shove. Ever the peacekeeper, Ri’nela raised a placating hand in Nor’s direction and placed a hand on Teylan’s knee. Ri’nela, at eleven years old, often acted as the mediator when conflict broke out. Her calming presence helped soothe the anger flaring in both Na’vi boys.
“Why do you always take Mercer’s side?” Aha’ri questioned.
Teylan rose from his bunk defiantly, flashing fangs at Nor. “Director Mercer saved us.” He stated firmly. Nor, as the second oldest at thirteen years old, often quarreled with Teylan, unable to understand the ease in which the younger Na’vi embraced human culture and language.
Nor flew at him again, shoving and hissing. Ri’nela in a second attempt to keep an all-out fight from occurring, got between Nor and Teylan, hissing at Nor. Teylan, however, reached the end of his patience and shoved them both away, retreating to the furthest end of the room.
“Teylan,” Aha’ri soothed, “they took us from our families.” She scooted closer to him and raised his chin with a finger. Teylan’s eyes swam with angry tears. “We are saplings cut from our roots.” She said, “We may not remember where we’re from, but we can still grow—out there, on Pandora.”
Nor joined in their huddle, anger ebbing, replaced with sorrow and frustration. “I can’t even remember the words of our clan’s songs anymore.” His voice was solemn.
Aha’ri’s eyes softened. “We can sing them even without words.” She cast a look towards Ri’nela and Tamtey, who joined the huddle at once. Smiling softly, Aha’ri began to hum the song of their clan. This time, her voice was filled with reverence, lacking the rebellious edge from the classroom earlier that day. This was the Aha’ri who comforted them. As the eldest of their group, she was the one who was strong and brave, and never let them forget their culture—despite the efforts of the RDA, Mercer, and Alma.
Ri’nela took a deep breath, one to release tension and gather courage, and spoke, “We can’t let them strip the Na’vi out of us. We have to do something before it’s too late.”
Aha’ri nodded in agreement. “We are stronger than them now,” she said, eyes firm, “I felt it in the classroom with Mercer. We can end this tonight. I have an idea.”
An hour later, Tamtey found herself crouching with the others next to the airlock door from their quarters to the rest of the base, where the humans could dwell freely without masks. From what they knew of TAP’s layout, their quickest and quietest exit was through the base. It was silent all around. Even the hum of electricity was quieter at night, when the base dimmed the lights to conserve energy.
Teylan had removed the electrical panel from the door and was fiddling with the internal wiring. He grunted softly as he worked, loosening screws to reveal even more panels. It looked like a maze of metal and electrical components to Tamtey, and she was grateful for Teylan’s knowledge.
In Na’vi, Aha’ri spoke. “We are going home.” She glanced at Tamtey with hope-filled eyes, smiling softly.
Something inside the control panel clicked, and the red light above the airlock door flashed green. It opened. Tamtey gasped, relieved.
“Good job, Teylan.” Aha’ri praised, resting a grateful hand on the young Na’vi boy’s shoulder. He smiled at them all, pleased.
“Now we have to hurry,” Aha’ri prompted, “we only have a few minutes breathing their air before we’re going to need masks.”
They nodded, still overcome with the shaky joy of escape. In a few minutes, they would be free in the land of Pandora. In Eywa. Their home.
They moved as a unit, sticking close to the walls, bare feet making the quietest of whispers against the hard floor. The final airlock door, the one that led to Pandora—to freedom—was right ahead.
Aha’ri’s smile stretched across her face. She opened her mouth as if to exclaim, come on!
The lights came on, overwhelmingly bright, briefly blinding their sensitive eyes. Tamtey gasped in pain and surprise.
Mercer, followed by four of his soldiers and his cruel second in command, Colonel Angela Harding. They were all maskless, expressions unfeeling.
Tamtey felt cold settle deep into her bones. Mercer and Harding stopped in front of their ragtag group, two of the RDA soldiers taking post at the airlock door and the other two moving to flank the group of Na’vi children. Trapped.
Tamtey was very aware of the rifle held tightly in Harding’s hands, the human woman’s brown fingers lightly brushing the trigger. Mercer’s own hand rested against the pistol clipped to his belt. The stench of fear flooded the now cramped corridor.
Mercer tsked. “I’m very disappointed in you.” He said, eyeing each and every one of them, eyes finally settling on Aha’ri, who moved to the front of their group, arms splayed wide as if protecting them.
“We have given you this privileged life,” Mercer told them, gesturing to the concrete walls and floors of TAP, “and you want to throw it all away.”
“We don’t want your ‘privileged life’!” Aha’ri snarled at Mercer, fishing their mother’s songcord from her pants pocket, clutching it tightly. “We belong out there, on Pandora!”
“No,” Mercer snapped, face flushing red with rage, and he took a menacing step towards them. “You belong to us.”
Tamtey’s breath came quickly and she fisted her hand in Aha’ri’s shirt. Mercer came closer, sneering.
“You cannot fathom how much we have invested in you?” He arched a brow, mocking. “Hm? We saved you, gave you a home, an identity—”
Aha’ri hissed at him, ears pinned and tail lashing. “We already had an identity, we are Na’vi!”
“No!” Mercer roared, getting in Aha’ri’s face, “You are what I made you!”
Aha’ri flinched, her deep blue skin blanching. She took a few shuddering breaths, then squared her shoulders, meeting Mercer’s eyes. She began to sing. Not hum, like she had countless times before, but sing. The song contained only no intelligible Na’vi words, as they had all forgotten them years ago, but it was their clan’s song nonetheless.
Nor stepped forwards, stopping at Aha’ri’s right. “We may not remember the words,” he said, grasping her hand tightly, “but we can still sing the songs of our people.”
Tamtey met Nor’s eyes, then Aha’ri’s, and stepped forward as well, gripping Aha’ri’s left hand, the songcord slotted snugly between their palms. She, too, began to sing. Loud and unabashed.
Ri’nela joined them, padding forward to grasp Nor’s other hand. She sang loudly, too.
“Shut up!” Mercer gritted, gesturing for Harding to come forward. If anything, they only sang louder.
Tamtey felt a small hand grip the fingers of her free hand. She glanced to her left and saw Teylan, singing shakily.
“I said shut up,” Mercer shouted, “stop singing!”
Aha’ri bared her teeth, stepping forward to stare Mercer down for the second time in a twenty-four-hour span. “We are going home.” Her voice was clear and strong. In Na’vi, she repeated the phrase, locking eyes with them all. Still, they sang.
Aha’ri loosened her grip on Tamtey’s and Nor’s hands, shoulder-checking Mercer as she made her way to the door. Bold, brave Aha’ri, Tamtey thought.
“I’m warning you, Aha’ri, not another step.” But Mercer’s command sounded weak, futile. Aha’ri ignored him and proceeded towards the airlock door.
Tamtey’s hope, stunted as it was by fear, returned. She turned to Teylan who still grasped her hand. In Na’vi she said, “Come on, Teylan. Let’s go home.” She tugged him gently and he came.
“Stop right there!” Mercer yelled, but his protests fell on deaf ears.
Harding tried to keep Nor and Ri’nela from following, but they brushed past her.
We’re going home, Tamtey thought. Finally.
A gunshot.
Tamtey whirled, dropping Teylan’s hand.
Aha’ri lay still on the floor, Mercer’s pistol smoking in his hand. No.
The world seemed to fall away. The soldiers, gone. The concrete walls, gone. Only Aha’ri remained, a single bullet hole in the back of her skull. Aha’ri lay face-down, an ever-growing pool of blood forming beneath her. Her face, Tamtey thought weakly, Aha’ri’s face…
Tamtey collapsed next to her sister, knees slipping in hot blood. She was wailing, screaming, gagging, but even her own voice sounded faded over the rush of blood in her ears.
The others joined her, crying and screaming. Tamtey pressed a hand against her sister’s still-warm neck, but there was no pulse. Of course there wasn’t, not after such a close-range shot.
“What did you do?!” Nor screamed, crouching over Aha’ri’s body.
“No, no, no…” Tamtey moaned, pushing her head into Aha’ri’s back. Blood choked her nostrils but she couldn’t bear to back away from her sister.
Distantly, Tamtey saw Mercer crouch and pick up their mother’s songcord, fallen from Aha’ri’s grasp when the bullet took her life. Tamtey couldn’t bring herself to care. Aha’ri was dead.
Tamtey continued to sob and wail and cling to her sister. When the RDA soldiers attempted to grab her by her arms, to remove her, she hissed and kicked and bit.
“Aha’ri!” She screamed, “Aha’ri—”
The butt of Harding’s rifle collided with the back of her head. She jerked and fell, cheek landing in thick, cooling blood. Everything went black.
8 Years Later
Toruk Makto and the Omatikaya are rising up against the RDA
The numbness never fully left Tamtey, eight years later. The memory of Aha’ri haunted TAP, haunted each and every one of them.
Even now, in the same classroom, listening to another of Alma’s stupid earth lessons, Tamtey’s attention was on the empty seat behind her—Aha’ri’s. Though no new student ever joined them, Aha’ri’s chair and desk stayed in its place. A warning, perhaps? Or was it just forgotten?
Alma lectured in the front of the class, gesturing to the holoboard depicting earth buildings called skyscrapers. Ugly steel contraptions that Alma dared compare to a Na’vi hometree. Tamtey gritted her teeth, but kept her ears and tail in check. After Aha’ri’s death, any Na’vi student who ‘acted out’ by flashing fangs, pinned ears, or lashing tail would be punished. Severely.
In front of her, Alma droned on, sounding unenthusiastic even to Tamtey. “So today, we will continue our talk about Earth economics and the laws of supply and demand—”
A voice interrupted. Nor. “Why do we have to use human weapons?” He asked.
Tamtey stifled a groan. This again? Each time Nor interrupted, the lesson only took longer. Didn’t he know that?
Alma sighed deeply, raising her five-fingered hands in exasperation. “Nor, we’ve been over this. Pandora is a very dangerous place.”
“But we’ve hardly seen Pandora,” Nor argued, “how do we know what we’re protecting ourselves against?” He had that telltale smirk on his face, finding pleasure in inconveniencing Alma yet again. He glanced towards Tamtey and arched a brow, silently asking her to back him up. She pursed her lips, but was saved from making a decision by the classroom door hissing open.
She turned her head, a knot already forming in her gut at the sight of Mercer, followed by a soldier with a rifle.
“Cortez,” Mercer snapped at Alma, “I need to talk to you over here. Now.”
Tamtey shared a look with Nor as Alma walked over to the director. They tried to speak softly, but the students’ Na’vi ears could pick up every word.
“Look,” Mercer said, “orders have come down from Hell’s Gate.”
Hell’s Gate—the RDA headquarters in the heart of the Omatikaya, Tamtey knew, straining her ears to listen. How unusual.
Mercer continued. “We are being evacuated from Pandora. I need you to grab your stuff before—”
The base alarm began to blare, and the emergency lights started to flash red.
Mercer cursed. “—Before the panic starts.”
“What?!” Alma cried.
The Na’vi students surged to their feet.
“Look, we have lost Pandora.” Mercer said, no longer keeping his voice down. “Some Avatar driver named Jake Sully went full native. Turned the Na’vi on us. That’s why you can’t trust any of them.”
Behind her, Tamtey heard Ri’nela gasp.
“I need you to get your stuff together.” Mercer ordered Alma. “And get back in your own damn body. Now. The puppet show is over.”
Nor’s concerned gaze met Tamtey’s as Alma began to address the class.
“Okay everyone!” Alma said, the barest hint of a tremor in her voice, “Collect your things—”
“Cortez!” Mercer snapped. “I will handle this. You need to go.”
Alma shot them a worried glance, but nodded, turning to jog out of the room. As she left, a second soldier slipped in, also carrying a rifle.
Mercer regarded both men, and gestured meaningfully towards the Na’vi students. “You know what to do.” He said. Then he left, the door sliding shut behind him.
Something ugly settled in Tamtey’s chest as the two soldiers climbed up to the classroom’s center stage, trigger fingers ready.
No. No.
Tamtey gasped as understanding settled on her, and she grasped Ri’nela’s hand. Nor and Teylan hissed furiously, moving to stand in front of the two Na’vi women.
The soldiers leveled their guns at them. Tamtey took her final breath.
The door hissed open and Alma rushed in, firing a rifle haphazardly at the soldiers. The spray of bullets dropped them, and Alma flung the gun to the side, regarding the students.
“Follow me.” She cried, turning to the door. “Quickly!”
The others followed. Tamtey’s heart pounded, but she couldn’t move.
“We’ve got this one chance!” Alma pleaded, locking eyes with Tamtey. “Come on!”
Adrenaline fueled her steps, and Tamtey followed.
They ran down the corridor, descending down flights of stairs and rounding corners with breakneck speeds. Tamtey couldn’t keep track of their path, but she doubted her fear would allow her to do so anyway.
Finally, Alma led them to a room on one of the lowest levels, one they’d never been to before. Weren’t they escaping? They shouldn’t be this deep in the base.
“Get in!” Alma ordered, gesturing to the rows of cryochambers against the walls. “You’ll be safe here.”
What?
“Is Mercer leaving us?” Teylan cried.
“We are no longer of use to him.” Nor snapped in reply.
“No!” Teylan shouted, “I won’t believe it.”
Alma stepped closer to them, interrupting the quarrel and gesturing again at the cryochambers. “Hurry! You need to hide.”
Nor scoffed. “Let us go, we can take them! We can escape! To Pandora!”
Tamtey wanted to voice her agreement, but fear clogged her throat.
“There are soldiers everywhere.” Alma exclaimed, pleading. “You won’t make it a single step.”
Nor made a choking sound, the fight leaving him. “This is our chance to be free.” He breathed. “Please.”
Alma shook her head. “This is your only chance to survive.”
Nor’s shoulders dropped, and Teylan gripped his bicep, pulling him towards a cryochamber. Defeated, Nor followed.
“What about you?” Tamtey asked. She didn’t necessarily like Alma, but she hated to think of the Avatar woman meeting her death after saving the lives of her and her peers.
“You’re just gonna go to sleep for a little while.” Alma deflected, pushing Tamtey in the direction of an empty cryochamber. Tamtey settled into the bed-like chamber numbly.
“It won’t be long, okay?” Alma reassured them, but it sounded flat.
Tamtey’s breath came in short bursts as the glass top of the chamber began to close over her. Alma pressed her hand against the glass, and Tamtey raised her own hand to meet it. The thick glass separated them, but she could halfway appreciate the attempt at comfort. Her eyes found Alma’s and held them until the chamber made a hissing, whirring sound. Against her will, her eyes closed. Tamtey barely registered her hand slumping back down as cryo-induced sleep claimed her.
Tamtey’s first sensation was cold. Piercing, bone-chilling cold. Then, stiffness in her arms and legs and neck. She coughed shallowly and peeled her eyes open, as they had been crusted shut.
It was dark in the chamber. Then, a smidgen of light as a blue, five-fingered hand wiped away a thick layer of… dust? What?
Tamtey’s brain struggled to comprehend her confusion, and she finally put a name to the blurry face above her. Alma. Classifications began to filter in: Teacher, mentor, Avatar…different. Alma looked different…older? Tamtey coughed again and placed both hands against the glass cover of her cryochamber, pushing weakly.
A faint voice from outside the cryochamber. Alma’s, full of awe. “You made it.” She breathed.
The glass door slid back, revealing her shivering body to the cold and…damp…air of the room. Overhead lights blinded her, and a cacophony of smells clogged her nostrils. Metal, dust, and rot.
Alma’s face swum above her, and Tamtey accepted the stabling hand gratefully. Her head pounded and words failed in her dry, parched throat. Her body…it seemed different than it had been. Larger, almost.
“I thought I lost you.” Alma was saying. “All of you.”
Tamtey’s thoughts were hazy, and she cast an unsteady glance at the rest of the room. Three other cryochambers, in addition to hers, were open. She turned her eyes back towards Alma, and rasped, “What’s going on?” Her voice rose in urgency. “What happened?”
“You’ve been asleep for a while.” Alma said, squeezing Tamtey’s hands gently. “A long, long while.”
A deep, heavily accented voice spoke from her left. “Oel ngati kameie. I See you.” The voice said in Na’vi. Tamtey turned and saw what she could only describe as a warrior. A Na’vi warrior in war paint, donning a bulletproof vest adorned with dog tags. The Na’vi man brought the fingers of his left hand to his forehead and back down, gesturing her way. A greeting and an acknowledgment.
Tamtey met his eyes, a light gold, and returned the gesture as fluidly as her sore, stiff body would allow.
The warrior turned to Alma, frowning. “Must you prod at them like this?” He questioned, gesturing at her and at the others who rose on unstable legs. “If they can walk, they can walk. The rest we have to leave.”
As Tamtey’s vision slowly began to sharpen, she made out Teylan walking unsteadily towards a pale, quaking Nor. The two Na’vi grasped each other in greeting and in relief. She turned to Alma, questions forming rapidly in her mind.
“But the RDA left. Didn’t they? And you left us here.” She held Alma’s gaze, pleading and desperate for understanding.
The warrior interjected fluidly, addressing Tamtey directly. “The Sky People have returned, Sarentu.” He said.
Tamtey released a shocked breath. “Sarentu…” she whispered, “No one has ever called me that.” Yet the name sang in the recesses of her memory.
Emotion swelled inside her and tears clouded her vision. The warrior’s eyes softened slightly.
In her periphery, Ri’nela approached slowly, hobbling, but emotion was clear on her face as well.
The warrior glanced at them individually, then turned back to Tamtey. He spoke, voice firm and steady. “That is your clan, and a mighty one at that.” He held her gaze, and she nodded.
The warrior stepped back. “We thought you were lost to this world,” he said, gesturing at Ri’nela, Teylan, and Nor, “but this dreamwalker—” the slightest bit of condescension colored his tone at the word, “—thought to lock you up in a box instead.”
The jab either went over Alma’s head or she ignored it, instead choosing to crouch in front of Tamtey. “I’ll explain when we get back.” She said, smiling softly. “But for now, you take it easy. Your body is still waking up.”
With that, Alma stood and retreated, going to check in with the two humans who stood at the outskirts of the room. One, a man Tamtey was immediately wary of, held an RDA-issue gun in hand. Yet…the gun had spatterings of brightly colored paint, and the man’s body language was tense but not threatening. A guard, perhaps?
The second human wore a tattered white lab coat with brightly colored patches covering the badly torn bits. The man looked over Nor, checking him for any injuries. A doctor…or scientist?
Tamtey stood on shaky legs and addressed Ri’nela and Teylan. “Did we..” her voice trailed off as pain twinged in her throat. She coughed and tried again. “Did everyone make it?”
“I’m here.” Ri’nela said. “Nor and Teylan, too. We’re safe.”
A soft laugh redirected her thoughts. Nor smiled broadly at them. “We’re getting out.” He breathed. “At last! It’s really happening. We’re all getting out. Together.”
They shared a brief smile.
“But why does it look so different in here?” Teylan wondered, eyes flicking around the space.
“Can we hurry things up?” The human guard groused impatiently. “RDA are en route. You can have your reunion later.”
The Na’vi warrior shot a look at the man, and lay a hand on Tamtey’s shoulder. “Come. Eat.” The man said, gesturing towards a small door along the wall of the room. “You will need your strength.”
“We found old rations in the canteen.” Teylan piped up, pointing towards the same door the warrior led her to. “There’s probably more… I think there’s more.”
Tamtey smiled at the Teylan gratefully, then at the warrior, and walked towards the door to the canteen.
As she walked, slowly, unsteadily, she heard the clatter of an instrument on the floor and Nor’s annoyed voice. “Don’t touch me with that.” He snapped.
The human in the white coat, presumably, spoke, “I’m sorry, I… Treating Na’vi wasn’t really part of my training.”
The guard sighed forcefully, and spoke again, frustrated. “Come on, come on! We have to go.”
With a roll of her eyes, Tamtey crouched and started down the human-sized hallway to the canteen.
Nor’s voice continued to echo through the hallway. “Who are these people, anyway?” He questioned. “Mercer’s people?”
Teylan’s voice, fearful and hopeful at once. “Is Mercer here?”
Alma, reassuring. “No, no. These are friends. We’re going to get you out of here, all right?”
Tamtey progressed as quickly as she could down the hall, stepping over fallen carts and containers. A thick layer of dust made her bare feet grip unsteadily on the concrete floor, and she coughed at the stale smell of the place.
Ri’nela’s discomforted voice was the next one she heard. “Why do I feel so stiff? So…different?” She complained. “How long did we sleep?”
Alma was beginning to sound exasperated as she replied, “Focus on eating for now. We need to leave soon.”
As Tamtey entered the canteen, she saw an open green trunk. She slid past dusty cafeteria tables and peeked inside. Two stale ration bags lay inside. Hunger gnawed at her belly and she tore one open, inhaling the contents. It was bland and relatively tasteless, but it soothed the roiling in her stomach. She stuffed the uneaten ration into her pants pocket and made to exit the canteen.
Suddenly, the ground shook. Tamtey gasped. She heard the guard’s voice call out over the shocked inquiries. “RDA squad closing in. We should move.”
Tamtey grunted in pain as she banged her foot against a fallen metal meal cart, but started to hastily make her way back into the hall.
She heard Alma cry out, alarm in her voice. “Everyone, out!” Another tremor shook the walls.
Tamtey reached the door and it hissed open. She burst into the room only to find it… empty?
The door to her right blew in, fire and shrapnel flying into the room.
“Shit!” Tamtey cried, diving behind a concrete pillar. Through the smoke, she saw two familiar faces. Her stomach threatened to dispel the recently-consumed ration. Mercer and Harding, accompanied by armed soldiers.
“The children!” Harding exclaimed, shocked and angry as she saw the open cryochambers. “They’re alive!”
Mercer groaned, frustration coloring his voice. “Cortez! She always thought we were making pets and not soldiers.” He whirled and got in the face of one of the RDA men. “Get rid of them.” He ordered.
Fear seized Tamtey and she moved, flinging herself up and towards the opposite door as fast as she could manage.
Harding spotted her and shouted in alarm. “One got out!”
She heard them raise their guns and dove, hitting the floor outside the door as it began to close. Bullets whizzed over her head for a few terrifying seconds before the door shut behind her.
Tamtey ran.
She heard Harding barking orders from behind the door. “Get it open. Now!” Blessedly, Tamtey wondered if some electrical component shorted out, saving her from a too-soon death.
The mechanized voice of a human inside an AMP suit made a frustrated noise. “It’s jammed!”
A curse from Harding. “Then find another way. Go around!”
Tamtey, for the first time in years, thanked Eywa and felt a glimmer of hope.
She rushed down the hall, skidding as she made a sharp right turn. The base had been abandoned for quite some time, she could tell. About half of the emergency lights worked, and most of them flickered, casting dim red light over dust covered surfaces. Many doors, controlled solely by electricity, were stuck closed. Many others had discarded equipment, or even concrete debris from fallen walls or parts of the floors above blocking the doorways.
Tamtey’s breath came in quick pants as she rushed down the hall, finding only one path available for her to take. She kept running. Another right, this time having to slide through a too-short doorway as she approached it too fast. Broken glass and bits of metal grating cut through her pants, tearing through the skin on her legs and backside. She cried out in pain.
As she entered a large room filled with discarded science equipment, perhaps left behind in the chaos of the evacuation, she heard Mercer’s voice over the PA system. “Kill all Na’vi on sight.”
She cursed again, human profanity conveying her frustration and desperation. The profanity had been a bad habit she developed after Aha’ri’s death, in response to the soldiers and handlers cracking down on the use of the Na’vi language. They wanted her to use English? Fine.
“Goddamn it!” Tamtey cried as she burst down a hallway, watching the corridor door start to close. Without thinking, she put on a burst of speed and flung her body into a slide, emerging on the other side of the door right as it closed. She tilted her head back and let out a shaky sigh of relief.
Her ears, finally losing the clogged feeling following the cryochamber, picked up a hushed human voice.
“Blues are close.” The voice said. A soldier, no doubt. “Eyes open, people.” Multiple, then. She would have to be stealthy.
In the last couple years of her tutelage at TAP, the Na’vi students had learned war tactics. Not only how to use human weapons, but also how to be quiet and stealthy, in the case of possible espionage against rebel groups or a clan causing trouble for the RDA. Tamtey used this knowledge now against the very organization that taught her those skills.
Another right, and she entered what used to be a large room, but the ceiling had caved in, exposing steel beams, rebar, and crumbling concrete.
She narrowed her eyes, scanning the room until she saw a shorter section of the rubble. There. Taking a running start, she leapt and used her arms to pull herself upwards onto the fallen beam. Thankfully, she was able to exit that room once she cleared the pile of rubble.
Into the next room, the entire ceiling had given away. She spotted a ventilation shaft opening on the floor above, and a dubious piece of intact concrete right beneath it. She glanced around the rest of the room but saw no other way forward.
With a hiss of frustration, she made another running jump and flung herself onto the intact concrete of the floor above. It creaked ominously below her but held. The vent cover itself looked rusted, weakened by who-knows how much time. A well-placed punch had the vent coming loose from its frame, but she groaned, shaking her hand as it throbbed.
The vent shaft itself was small, even smaller than human doorways. Her Na’vi body was cramped, but she was thankfully able to progress through the vent. She wondered if it was post-cryo disconnection, but her body almost seemed bigger than it had when she went to sleep. Less angular, but not by much. How long had they slept?
The vent shaft ended and she crawled into a small maintenance room. Flood lights were the only powered lights in the room, illuminating another small vent shaft. Wonderful.
She stretched, wincing as her vertebrae popped. Again, she curled in on herself and entered the next vent shaft. It was a shorter crawl than the last one, and she punched the vent cover at the end of it, already braced for the pain.
The vent shaft let out into another cluttered corridor, a good seven feet off of the ground. The vent cover made a terribly loud clattering sound as it crashed to the floor. This corridor was different from the enclosed ones she’d run through before reaching the ventilation shafts; one entire wall of the hallway was spanned by glass, and RDA soldiers lurked beyond the glass wall. One soldier must have heard the clatter of the vent cover falling to the floor below, as he whirled in shock, the light on his rifle dim through the clouded glass, yet still briefly illuminating the floor beneath her. “What was that?” The soldier hissed.
Another RDA soldier responded, clearly in doubt of the man’s suspicion. “Nothing. Geez, stop being so jumpy.” The first RDA soldier muttered but fell silent.
Steeling herself, Tamtey waited for their backs to turn, then dropped soundlessly to the ground. Unfortunately, a third soldier, one she had not seen nor heard, saw her from his position behind some sort of broken machinery. He shouted, pulling his gun, and she ran.
“There!” The third soldier exclaimed, no doubt showing his two colleagues where she was. “Shoot to kill!”
Bullets peppered the wall behind her, shattering the glass wall of the corridor. Fire-hot pain flared across her left tricep. She cried out and dove behind a stack of old metal crates. She pressed the fingers of her right hand against her upper arm. They came away bloody, but it wasn’t bad. A graze, she thought, gritting her teeth against the pain. After a few more seconds, there was a break in the gunfire. She scurried the last few feet through another doorway, the gunfire resuming mere seconds later.
More soldiers, prowling the rooms ahead of her, were alerted by the gunfire. She ran as fast as she could, darting by the rooms before the soldiers had the chance to pull their weapons. A few feet in front of her, there was a hole in the floor. There was no time for thought. She dropped quickly down, pleasantly surprised to land in a crouch only a few feet below. Sub-floor vents. She crawled until the vent angled downwards. She dropped out of the ventilation shaft and into another corridor.
A voice. “Another one made it!” Male, Na’vi, and familiar. The warrior. “Over here!” The warrior called. “Are you all right?”
Tamtey peered through the dusty darkness. There! The end of the corridor had caved in, but there was just enough space between the rebar and wiring to see the Na’vi warrior’s face. She wouldn’t be able to reach him through the rubble.
She approached quickly, praying that the collapse hadn’t just happened and that the warrior was safe. From the looks of it, she saw as she got closer, he was not only safe but victorious too. The bodies of two RDA soldiers lay not too far from the warrior, arrows emerging from their chests.
“Here, take this.” The warrior prompted quickly, reaching through the rubble and pushing a small electronic device into her hands.
“A radio?” She asked, incredulous. Where had he gotten one?
“Put it in your ear.” The Na’vi ordered. “It is tuned to our frequency.”
Tamtey did as commanded. She glanced sidelong at the bodies. “You’ve been busy.” She said wryly.
The warrior hummed dismissively. “They were looking for you. They found me.” He met her eyes, and there was an urgency in them. “You need to move. Now.”
“Wait.” Tamtey pleaded, not wanting to be alone again until she knew one thing. “What is your name?” If she died, or if he died, she wanted to know the name of the man who helped save her.
The warrior eyed her, obviously not wanting to dally. He must’ve seen something in her eyes, though, because he huffed a breath and said, “So’lek. One of the last of my clan.” He held her gaze and spoke with conviction. “I am here so you will not be the last of yours.”
She nodded, grateful. “I am Tamtey. Irayo. Thank you, So’lek.”
He returned her gesture with a curt nod. “Keep moving. Fast and quiet. Go.”
She went, crouching under a door labeled ‘storage’, emerging into a room lined with nearly bare shelves.
The radio crackled in her ear. “Can you hear me?” So’lek’s voice, slightly tinny through the radio.
“I hear you.” She replied. “Those soldiers are everywhere!” Her voice shook slightly with anxiety.
“It’s okay.” So’lek’s voice was steady, grounding. “Breathe. Look for a way out.”
She let loose a shuddering breath and eyed her surroundings. There, at the very end of the room, was a maintenance hatch. She dropped down and again began to crawl, coughing as dust billowed around her.
The ground shook above her, and with a start Tamtey realized it was the heavy footsteps of AMP suits right above her. I’m under the floor, she thought dizzily.
“Come on, come on, they’re here somewhere!” She heard from right above her head. “Check every corner, vent, hole in the wall, I don’t care. Find them!” Fear coursed through her.
The subfloor maintenance shaft crumbed inwards a few feet ahead of her, and her only choice was to crawl up onto the main floor. She waited until the heavy footsteps seemed far enough away, then made a run for it.
She skidded into a stairway labeled, ‘Zone 2.’ It didn’t seem like anyone saw her.
“So‘lek?” She whispered into the radio. “Can you hear me? Where is everyone else? Did they get out?”
So’lek responded in an instant. “I am making sure they do. Are you safe?”
She progressed up the stairs and into another corridor. “For now. I think.”
So’lek seemed as pleased as he could be with her answer. “Let me worry about the others. Just keep moving.”
The end of the corridor was, again, caved in, but the vent on the floor to her right seemed promising. She kicked the cover in and crawled inside. This time, she crawled atop large yellow pipes. The ventilation shaft exited into a supply room filled with overturned carts and shelves. Through a window, in another room, two soldiers shone flashlights. Searching.
She waited until both flashlights turned away, then she dropped into the room. She held her breath, but relaxed slightly when they continued to talk quietly to each other. They hadn’t seen her. She used the volume of their voices and the light of their flashlights to determine her movement, sneaking behind fallen shelves and hiding behind toppled crates when they turned her way. She progressed through the room, silent and unseen.
In the next room, the ceiling had partially collapsed. This time, she used the exposed support beams as cover from the team patrolling in the adjacent room.
She ducked underneath a fallen shelf, then through the doorway and into a blessedly empty corridor. “That was close.” She wheezed, relief loosening her tense muscles.
A doorway labeled ‘gymnasium’ was the only doorway free of rubble. She darted down another hallway before entering a room labeled ‘gym control center’. The computer screens were dark, and exposed wires sent sparks into the air. There was no light above the door to the gym itself. She groaned, adrenaline spiking again.
She radioed So’lek. “The door to the gym is locked. I’ll try to find a way through.”
“Stay watchful.” So’lek replied.
She stayed crouched, observing her surroundings. If only she could get the door to work… Her eyes landed on a sparking electric box to the left of the door itself. Perhaps…?
She eyed the sparking wires suspiciously, but saw the wires themselves were insulated, it was only the break that sparked. With a deep breath, she took hold of the two main wires and twisted their parts together. Miraculously, the light above the gym door lit green. She huffed a laugh and crawled through the door.
The door let her out onto a catwalk above the gym. Unfortunately, the catwalk had given way only a few feet from her, the rest of it as well as various fallen pipes and ducts littered the floor below. Two soldiers patrolled this area, chatting quietly with one another.
She waited until both soldiers were turned away, then dropped soundlessly to the floor, ducking quickly behind a partial concrete wall. She moved opposite to their patrol, squeezing into the fallen HVAC ducts on the floor when they turned her way. At last, she had crossed the room, and she waved her hand quickly to activate the motion door. It hissed open. A soldier turned at the noise, eying the door, but she was already gone.
Safely in the next room, the lobby to an ops center, it looked like, she activated her radio.
“I’m out of the gym.” She whispered to So’lek.
“Good.” He replied, sounding relieved. “Now get to the—”
Gunfire. Not on her end, but his. “So’lek?!” She cried. Nothing. The radio cut out. No!
She rushed down another corridor, dodging debris. A soft glow shone at the end of the hall. Pace slowing, she approached cautiously.
Her eyes widened. Bioluminescent fungi bloomed on the floor of a caved-in room. Roots hung from the ceiling above, and the air was damp. She climbed through a sizable crack in the wall, following the bioluminescent fungi and lichens.
She emerged into some sort of hallway, feet splashing softly through the couple inches of water on the ground. More lichens and fungi spanned the surfaces. Another door, another hallway, and into—
She gasped. Their old classroom. Mosses covered their desks and chairs. The place looked like it had been abandoned for years.
“How long were we asleep?” She muttered absentmindedly, running a hand over the soft moss on her desk.
She continued through the classroom, smelling the dampness in the air…and something richer. Is this what Pandora smelled like?
She followed the scent of what she could only hope was the outside, ducking through another doorway into a short hallway. A door was shut at the end of the hall, but a green light flickered above it. She approached it. Yet, as the door hissed open, an AMP suit stood ready and kicked her square in the chest.
Her breath exited her lungs in a painful whoosh, and she hit the ground hard. The AMP suit kept its foot on her chest, the incredible weight of the metal suit keeping her from moving. She clawed wildly at the metal leg with her fingers, to no avail.
Tamtey shouted, enraged, but lost her breath when she glanced into the face of a pistol. A sneering Harding pressed the pistol into her forehead. “Gotcha.” The woman said.
“What’d ya catch, Harding?” Mercer’s voice from behind her. The man smirked as he entered her field of vision. He crouched in front of her and chuckled, shaking his head.
“Ah, you don’t gotta worry about this one. It hasn’t got anywhere near the fight its sister did.”
Tamtey bared her teeth, spitting and hissing, “Murderer!”
The gun pressed harder into her forehead, but Mercer just smiled condescendingly. “Well, look where it got her.”
Mercer stood, turning to regard Harding. That’s when Tamtey saw the songcord wrapped around his wrist. What? She thrashed harder, shouting, but they ignored her.
“Such a shame.” Mercer was saying to Harding. “They could’ve been of use, once. But now there are no Na’vi ambassadors, only Na’vi obstacles.” He waved a dismissive hand at Tamtey and turned to leave. It was an order. Harding’s finger slipped over the trigger.
The AMP suit above her lurched as bullets sprayed. Harding tumbled backwards, caught off guard but otherwise unscathed. The AMP turned to face the new threat, easing its foot off Tamtey’s chest. She rolled onto her feet.
So’lek stood behind her, rifle in hand. He sent another spray of bullets into the AMP, drawing its focus from her entirely.
“Run!” So’lek roared, vaulting over her to take the AMP head-on. She obeyed without question, scrambling to her feet and dropping down what she hoped was a maintenance shaft through another door. It wasn’t. Instead, she fell down an elevator shaft, three stories high. She landed unsteadily, collapsing to the floor. She groaned in pain, ankle twinging. She rolled it, and as painful as it was, she was thankfully able to stand.
At the bottom of the elevator shaft, she saw another ventilation cover. She kicked it in with her uninjured foot, bracing herself on the wall. She crawled through the short stretch, emerging into another small space. Larger yellow pipes ran along the walls, and she followed them. Perhaps they would lead outside?
“So’lek?” She asked through her radio. “Are you okay? That was too close.” Silence. “So’lek?” Her heart thumped against her ribcage but she had no choice but to keep going. If she stopped, she was dead.
The scent of dampness, of organic material, was stronger as she kept crawling. Soon, she stepped into another maintenance room. Some pipes had given way, showing more shallow water, moss, and lichens below. She had to be headed in the right direction. Another door, labeled ‘pipe maintenance’, brought her to a room filled with green. A tree root had grown through an opening in the wall, and sunlight poured in through a hole in the ceiling. The root was large enough to accommodate her weight, so she jumped across slightly deeper water to land on it. For a moment, she relished the softness of the moss beneath her hands and feet, then scaled the root up towards the hole in the wall.
More natural light beckoned her. One more climb into a ventilation shaft and she dropped into a hallway. At the end of the hallway, sunlight. Real, unfiltered sunlight. For a second, she froze. She heard wildlife and the sound of running water.
As she walked down the hall, she saw grass growing. Plants grew in the hallway. Her ears flicked, picking up the drone of insects. Finally, she was at the end of the hallway. For a brief moment, she needed to shield her eyes from the sunlight. Her eyes weren’t used to such bright natural light. Then, eventually, they adjusted.
Wild, unfettered beauty is the only way she could describe what she saw. The bright green hue of leaves rustling in the cool breeze. Various unfamiliar plants and flowers, all different colors and shapes. A small creek bubbled a few feet from the exit, its borders framed by moss-covered rocks. Somewhere down the stream, small waterfalls formed. The rush of water was a welcome sound in her ears.
Tamtey took a deep breath and was shocked to find the air tasted slightly sweet. The damp muskiness of TAP still tickled her nose, and that same scent was slightly present in the soft soil beneath her feet, where lichens and mosses grew wild.
I did it, Tamtey thought. Finally, after an entire childhood under the boot of the RDA and TAP, she was free.
Tamtey tilted her head back, feeling the sun on her face and hearing the burbling creek in her ears. She smiled widely, freely for the first time in years.
“Ma Eywa,” she breathed, a lone tear streaking down her face. “Thank you.”