A New Mission: Ash to Fire

Love

Miles had the throttle pressed as far forward as it could go, it even creaking a bit as he pressed it hard into its metal base, trying to eke out extra miles per hour that he knew were impossible. The picador was already going as fast as it could, skimming over the dark, calm, nearshore sea. Miles was traveling North up the coast from Bridgehead per Sully's directions, desperation in his heart as the end of eclipse loomed over them. Lyle, Mansk, and Jake were sitting forward on the picador, on its gunwales, opposing one another, Jake on the starboard (right) side, Lyle and Mansk on the port (left) side, their bioluminescent freckles emanating a light glow on the cluttered deck.

All four were quiet. Deep in thought. Lyle and Mansk carried the same worry over the timing as their Colonel.

Jake was assessing this unbelievable situation. Quaritch being here in a Na'vi body still threw him and Jake was astounded that he just threw away his mission goals, yet again, for... love.

The first he did it was for Spider on the Sea Dragon, Jake never forgetting his shock that Neytiri's threat upon Spider worked to spare Kiri, even as Jake was one cuff away from being incapacitated. Then of course how close Quaritch was to killing him on that floating mountain, abandoning his attack, his knife just inches away from his face, for his Ash Na'vi mate. And now here he was again, betraying the RDA—Colonel Miles Quaritch! Of all people—and freeing him to trade for her. And Jake didn't even know that he also saved Kiri and threw away recapture of her for the love of his son.

Jake looked back at Miles who was behind the boat's cockpit and not moving his eyes from the horizon. Jake sensed Miles' anger and frustration over the entire situation. Of course though, Jake felt no sympathy. He harbored deep antipathy toward this man, and if the circumstances were different and he found himself uncuffed and in the proximity of a distracted Quaritch he wouldn't hesitate in driving his axe into the back of his head.

And then there was Jake's emergent hatred of the Ash People, his last nearly seventeen years on Pandora betraying him in the knowledge of such an aggressive clan of Na'vi. Or maybe he should view it as having been spared. And the very conflict that Jake and other Na'vi found themselves in with the Ash People, and the countless deaths that occurred were directly stirred by the RDA and by Quaritch. Jake couldn't stand to look at Miles anymore, otherwise, he might try to kill him. He just looked away over the dark and starlit watery horizon, his jaw clenched.

Mansk was making slightly pained faces from the movements of the boat affecting his injured left arm in his makeshift sling. He was looking down at the various messy and miscellaneous things strewn about the deck of Deacon's de-weaponized picador. A broken exo-pack, a reflective orange work vest, an advanced medical supplies box, some kind of vehicle repair kit, an empty canteen, and an orange flare box. Mansk thought about digging through the medical supplies box for any painkillers, but they'd be human doses. He just weathered the pain—he was a Marine.

Lyle was looking down at the deck, taking a long moment to mourn Rocket. He loved his mount. His cool dark blue colors. His eagerness to fly. Like with all of the recoms, Lyle's bond with his Ikran was truly where his relationship and view of Pandora began to shift. Mansk sensed his brother's sadness and looked over to his right at Lyle and tapped him on his left arm with the back of his free hand, shaking Lyle from his focused, grieving thoughts.

Mansk said, "I'm sorry about your Ikran, dude."

Lyle pulled his lips in and gave a series of slow nods and he replied, "Yeeahh... he was a good boy. Wish we didn't just leave him there."

Jake overheard their conversation, shocked that Lyle Wainfleet, Mr. Get Some Door Gunner, who he remembered as eager to shoot down any Ikran that he and Trudy would pass in the sky had an affinity for them now.