Chapter Text
Cryo. It’s weird as hell. Hey, chap! You’re gonna go into this cylinder, and in six years you’re gonna come out. Don’t worry though, it will feel like no time has passed. Rightly my brain said, hell no! That’s not how reality is supposed to work! But here I am, opening my crusty-ass eyes, lying weightless in a spaceship I’ve seen in ads proclaiming, ‘adventure!’
The RDA starship, Horizon, cliche, is basically a parachute in space. There’s a solar panel at the top keeping the meat bags breathing, and two thrusters at the bottom ensuring that the ship slows before it crashes into something.
It takes a moment for me to realize that two white-clad doctors have just extracted my pod. Looking side-to-side, I see hundreds of identical pods in various states of extraction. The sight reminds me of those old bug hives… bees, I think they were called.
“Follicle Growth Syndrome confirmed,” the white-clad doctor on my left states in a bland tone as they mark something on a table.
“Follicle what syndrome? As in hair follicle?'' Even as I ask this, I become aware of the mass of curly deep brown hair flowing over my torso. My beard has become fucking magnificent. Just as I am processing the awesomeness of this fact, I become aware of the hundreds of little poking sensations up and down my legs and torso. Cringing, I realize all of my hair must have grown. “Fuck.”
“Is everything alright, Corporal?”
“Yes. Can you let me out now?” I gesture to the buckles that are containing me in the pod.
“Yes, of course,” he begins extracting me from the pod one buckle at a time. After a minute or so I'm floating beside the two of them.
“You don't happen to have my leg, do you?” I point at the stump that is my left leg.
“We do not. Such personal artifacts are still being extracted from storage,” the less talkative of the two doctors say this in the same emotionless matter-of-fact tone.
“Great. So I just float around until they call my name?”
“Yes, sadly. However, we do need to ask some questions.”
—------------------------------------------------------
For the next hour, I answer a few hundred medical questions. It doesn't bother me much, especially since I’ve been the one asking these questions before. As soon as they are done I’m pointed to an exit from the cryo capsules. I have to wait another hour before I'm able to get to the front of the queue and climb into the rest of the ship. The thin ladder takes a long time, and roughly halfway through I begin to feel gravity again. I'm able to escape the small space into a sort of lobby. Looking out a window, I can now tell I'm in the giant ring that surrounds the ship. It spins slowly, providing artificial gravity, which, is a problem considering I had only one goddamn leg.
Cursing softly, I crawl to a set of chairs and sit, waiting for some stooge to bring me my leg. Yet another hour passes before I hear a squeaky voice call, “Corporal Lee Kirkland? I have… your.. your leg.” After a short search, I find the young private holding my leg awkwardly in his arms, “Here, Private!”
Soon I'm alone–well, as alone as I can be with hundreds of soldiers and contractors milling about. It takes a few minutes for me to plug my bulky metal leg into the small metal plate at the base of my stump. Sighing, I finally stand on my two legs. The movement reminds me of the uncomfortable feeling of hair scraping against my jumpsuit.
Just as I begin cringing at the sensation, I hear a high annoying tone yell, “Holy shit, doc! Didn't realize I missed your hundredth birthday!”
Cringing harder, I turn and salute the thin man and his wide smirk, “Sergeant.”
“Shush. If you won't use my nickname at least use my name. If you don't remember, it’s Nathan.” His smirk turns slightly malicious.
“Is that an order, sir?” My voice goes flat and bland in an attempt to avoid revealing my annoyance.
“No, you dipshit. Anyway, come on. We have new barracks.” Turning, he begins a soft jog out of the still-packed waiting room.
I follow, smiling slightly at the distinct metallic clink of my left leg on the metal flooring. The walk is short as I follow Nathan. He almost flows through the crowd, while I stay to the side letting people pass me as we go.
“Welp, here we are. Oh, also. You have to give a medical check for some fucking reason.”
Entering the small room, I find almost the entire unit doing various activities. I turn to the tall, lithe woman standing off to the side, “Corporal Lee Kirkland reporting, Major!”
She returns my salute, “Corporal, you are to proceed with a medical examination of the squad.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Turning, I find most of the squad already shifting into a small line. The twelve-person squad consists of six women including the major, and six men. The medical inspection is routine now. Hendrick gives me a pasty as normal and Gleeson, in his slightly hiccupy tone, tells me how I'm doing it wrong. However, soon the entire squad is cleared.
“Thank you, Corporal. Now I have the briefing prepared for the squad.” Shifting positions, the group forms an odd semi-circle around the major with varying levels of attention. “As you all know, we are to aid in the colonization of the forest moon of Pandora. The indigenous people have shown varying levels of hostility to our presence. We are being assigned to a hotbed in the northern jungles. The city of Erickson’s Rest is under near-constant assault by the local Na’vi tribe and they are highly organized and violent. This tribe is specifically known, even among the Na’vi, as warriors. We are to act as the city's own spec ops unit. Due to the late arrival of our avatars, we will not be performing any combat operations for the first month of our deployment.”
The last statement sends a small ripple of murmurs through the unit varying from annoyed to concerned, “Major, what delayed our avatars?” The question comes from the newest of our squad. Corporal Uptana is a curiosity. She was an entomologist for a major research group before suddenly enlisting.
“The transport was delayed due to a logistical issue.” This reply sends groans through the unit. Even with the largest budget in the known universe, the RDA still had a mountain of fuckups to its name.
“Stop your bellyaching!” The squad does just that, returning their attention to her. “Now, we have twelve hours until our arrival. I suggest you use that time to check your equipment and get yourselves clean. Dismissed.”
The unit disperses at this. Sighing, I stand and make my way to the showers. The locker room immediately makes my hairs stand on end and I cringe uncomfortably. Quickly, I make my way to the most remote shower. Sitting down, I sigh in relief at being back in solitude. Pulling out my mirror, I smile at my reflection. The rat's nest that is my beard shifts slightly with the expression making me smile wider. My rusty brown eyes crinkle further. After a moment, I move the mirror to inspect my hair. The normally straight-smooth hair is a massive tangled mess running down to the small of my back.
Sighing with annoyance, I pull out a brush and start brushing. This ordeal takes what feels like two hours as I slowly work from the bottom up to my scalp. After that is done, I move to my beard. Due to the special nature of our squad, we are given some leeway with uniforms and grooming. This fact allows me to brush out my beard and keep it in its entirety. The long beard reaches just below my belly button. Which isn't long considering I'm on the shorter side at five foot, six inches.
Running my brush one last time through my curly beard, I groan knowing what I need to do next. Checking the lock on the shower door, I undress. Looking down, I gag at the forest of long, black hairs forming a patchy carpet up and down my legs, belly, and arms. With a check of my mirror, I find more along my back. Quickly, I pull out my razor and proceed to get rid of all of it. The job takes even longer than brushing since I have to run over the same patches multiple times to make the skin smooth, as well as having to twist awkwardly to reach the entirety of my back. As I run the razor back over my remaining calf, a loud knock at the door startles me enough that I accidentally create a long bleeding cut on my leg.
“Hey! Doc! You getting baby smooth in there?” Nathan’s taunt comes slightly muffled through the door.
“If you must know, yes.” I groan slightly in annoyance.
“Figured. Only you and Patrica take this long in a shower without showering.” The soft chuckle I hear makes me shake my head.
“Is there a reason you are here, Sergeant?”
“Nope! So how's the beautification going?”
“It was going well. Now will you let me get back to it?” I feel an annoyed warmth flush my cheeks. Huh, another bonus of a beard. No one can see me blush.
Another laugh is audible through the door. “Fine, fine. I’ll deprive you of my amazing company.”
As his footsteps recede, I sigh in relief. Checking the cut and finding that it has stopped bleeding, I stand, looking down at the black patch of hairs on the tile. With one last small gag, I turn on the shower.
—-------------------------------------------
After toweling off, I finally emerge into the common room of the small barracks. It's deserted for the most part except for two members of the squad playing cards. “Hello Quincy, Mary,” nodding to the two of them, I sit off to the side.
Quincy, a short thin person with russet brown skin, smiles softly and in just as soft a voice says, “Hello, doc. Are you doing okay after Cryo? I heard some folk get queasy, and you were in the shower a long time.”
Chuckling softly, Mary plays a card. In her warm voice that matches her oddly big, cuddly figure, well odd for a soldier, “You know Lee, Quin. He needs his alone time. Sure you understand that.”
“I s’pose. Well Doc, you gonna buy in? We’re usin’ pasties as currency.”
Looking again at the table, I can see indeed they are using a variety of pastie sweets as chips. “Where does he get all those things? He's been sleeping for six years yet he's given me three just for the medical exam.”
“Don't know. He must be magic or something. So you going to use those three sweets for the game?”
“No, sadly,” I say this without feeling even a little bit sad. Gambling is not a pastime I enjoy, “I have to go check my equipment, see if they left some of my things in storage.”
They both nod as if this was expected. “Sure, doc. Well if you wanna join later we’ll be here.”
Waving in farewell, I make my way to my bunk. It has my name in big letters at the foot of the bed, and next to it is a locker with the same letters on it. Opening it, I see that my rifle uniform and spare grooming supplies are there, but my reading tablet isn't. Groaning, I turn and make my way to the ass end of the ship to see where they lost my tablet.
The long, thin hallways feel bland and lifeless except for the many people walking up and down the halls. After a short time, I find myself at the back of a long queue leading to the storage section of the ship. Hmm, apparently they didn't just misplace my shit. After a quick check of how long the line was, I settled in for the long hall.
The minutes pass slowly as I look out the window. Soon, however, the perpetually spinning ship gives me a glimpse of Pandora. It is clearly night due to the vibrant displays of soft naturally occurring light on the planet. It reminds me of home, but less… invasive? Or perhaps less sickly?
As I lean, pondering the exact verbiage to fit my thoughts, I hear a hard feminine voice address me. “Corporal, the line has progressed without you.”
Turning, I spot Major Bella Backer. Her midnight black skin should have been easy to spot, but, “Sorry, Major. My brain was elsewhere.”
“Just move forward,” she points over my shoulder, so I move to comply, spanning the gap left by me.
“So, Major. What has logistics forgotten for you?”
“Our spare weapon parts. I ordered six extra sets sent to our barracks and we only received one. I’d hoped that we would have gotten these issues figured out by now.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing deeply in repressed annoyance.
“Sorry to say, ma’am, but I doubt that will ever be truly figured out.” It’s been a long time since I have talked to the major for any length of time. It's interesting to see her like a person and not a brick.
“I suspect you are right, Corporal.” With that, she stops the conversation.
The last few minutes of the wait are filled with me considering whether I should try to re-spark the conversation or just wait. The decision is made for me when the man behind the requisition counter calls, “Next!”
With even more waiting, I'm eventually handed back my reading tablet. I give the officer a smile of thanks that he ignores, deciding to instead return to yelling at the queue. Retracing my steps, I reenter the barracks, finding the poker game where it was before. Deciding that it was as good a place as any, I sit next to the table again. The next few hours are spent listening to my two squad mates banter as I read about some of the flora on Pandora.
—-----------------------------------------------
Hours pass quickly when there is nothing to do but read and clean equipment. The latter project received some bellyaching from a few squad members, but in the end, everything was combat-ready. After a few hours of sleep, we shuffled to the massive planes that were going to bring us to the surface. The craft was packed to the tits with crates, people, and massive amp suits.
After settling, I look out the window above me. It's an odd sensation to look at the ship I had slept in for six years loom above, while I fly away into the void of space. Soon, the jolt of the engines helps stop that feeling and the slight jostling and cursing brings me right back to the present. Looking around, I see my squad, as well as another hundred or so people on this side of the craft. They are all dressed in different equipment. Some are doctors, others are engineers, but by and large, most are other soldiers.
A soft pat on my shoulder makes me look at Hendrick. He's a short, strong man with pale skin and many pink scars. “You’re looking a bit green there, doc. Want a pasty?” He holds up a pristine white pasty.
“No thanks. But thanks.”
My awkward response makes him smile. “Well, then I guess it's someone else's treat.”
As he stuffs the candy into a pocket I ask, “So how did you get those?”
“Trade secret.” His smirk is wiped away by a sudden jolt from the aircraft.
“Atmospheric breach. ETA to Ericson’s Rest, twenty minutes.”
“Could have warned us, the bitches.” Turning to my other side, I can see the massive muscle-bound form of Cassity. She rubs the back of her head angrily before adjusting her grip on the massive gun she has named Mike.
I open my mouth to agree with her when a sudden cursing is heard over the intercom, “Wh-- fuck, incoming fire!'' The entire craft turns, pushing me into the seat painfully. After a second of mass cursing from almost everyone, a great impact is felt throughout the ship. I look out the window, spotting a massive fireball where one of the engines should have been.
“All personnel, equip your Exo packs! We have two breaches in the main cabin!” The pilot's attempt at a calm tone doesn't escape me, especially since it's obvious he has no clue how to handle the situation.
Quickly yanking out the clear mask from my pack, I shove it over my face hard enough to pull out beard hairs. As soon as it's secured I look up and down the ship trying to spot the breach. It’s not hard, considering the large splatter of red from the poor fucker who was just sitting where a large piece of shrapnel is now poking through the side of the cabin. Just as I spot this, the ship makes another sharp turn, only to be hit again. This explosion rocks me in my chair hard enough that I feel the edge of the belt cut into me.
As I begin cursing softly and observing the minor wound, the pilot has one last helpful piece of advice. “Brace for impact!”
The entire ship suddenly stops, banging my head against Hendrick's shoulder, hard. I'm dazed for a few seconds as I try and shake off the thundering headache that has taken up residence in my skull. I hear something faint. Shaking my head, I suddenly can make out the major yelling, “Get the fuck up! We have to form a perimeter now!”
With a jolt, I unbuckle myself from the now-bent seat. Quickly, I grab my rifle. Only then, do I truly see the state of the ship. The front of the ship is full of massive splinters from the trees we must have hit. A large section of the bottom is sheared off, and almost a fourth of the people on board are dead or wounded.
Instinct makes me step toward them, but a firm hand on my shoulder stops me. “There are doctors in here. We got to get out there so they can save those folk.” Looking at Hendrick, I nod grimly.
We make our way out of the landing ramp which is at an odd angle. Soon, we are standing on Pandora for the first time next to a burning wreck with no support in sight.
“Phoenix. Spread out along the ruts of the crash. The Na’vi have flying creatures so eyes up!”
Following the order, Hendrick and I sprint to the left side of the crash where the wing had dug up a large mound of dirt. Hitting the wall and crouching, I can't help but chuckle.
“What are you laughing about, Corporal!?”
Turning, I see Sergeant Patterson. She kneels next to me, a deep frown etching her features. “Sorry, ma’am.”
My brief smile is replaced by a grim frown. I run my eyes quickly around the position. Roughly sixty soldiers have taken up positions along the massive bare dirt track that was formed by the nose of the ship. Two AMP suits have crawled their way out of the ship, looking like headless statues in the gloom. Looking up and over the pile of dirt I'm leaning against, I look out into the forest. The massive trees look almost like they could catch clouds in their leaves, there are soft lights here and there from the various plants glowing in the dark. Most of that light has been lost to the mass of orange-red flames on the ship.
“Well… you want that pasty now, doc?”
I chuckle softly. “No thank you. I'm content with my nice ditch and my rifle.”
“Shut up and listen! We may have hostiles any second!”
Nodding to the sergeant, I look back out into the gloom-filled forest. The ambient light and crackling of the fire doesn't help my nerves as much as the small talk had. The moving light makes me flinch and turn my gun to and fro. Soon, minutes pass with no noise but from the fire. I continue to look out at the canopy with its massive leaves. Must be as big as an AMP. I suddenly notice a leaf shift. Squinting, I look into the gloom but don't see anything when a sudden bird call makes me jump. I try to get my heartbeat under control when I hear the call again, three times in quick succession. Looking back out into the foliage at the leaf I thought had moved, I still see nothing. It moved, I'm fucking sure. Propping my gun up onto the bank of dirt, I squint again at the leaf and spot a golden eye looking around the side of the tree.
Instinct is faster than conscious thought. The trigger of my gun is pulled instantly, sending three bullets ripping into the forest. The deep twang of massive bowstrings answers.
The yell of “contact!” comes from at least twenty people at once. Massive arrows the size of spears impale five soldiers around me. The flash of muzzles light up the gargantuan trees, revealing the tall elegant forms of the Na’vi. They dot the edge of the woods, crystal arrowheads gleaming in the dark.
Just as I'm picking a target, I see one sprint out of the forest into our wall of guns. He holds up what looks like a crab shell. Its vibrant orange and blue pattern reflects the yellow flashes of the guns. I swivel my gun and fire and the rounds reflect off of the makeshift shield like they’re bb pellets. I'm about to fire again when another one with a shield runs out of the forest, then another. Soon a dozen Na’vi are running pell-mell into our firing line.
A deep baritone thumping cuts through the night as an AMP opens fire. The massive rounds crack through the shell like nothing, killing the warrior holding it. But one gun can only do so much. Soon the Na’vi jump over the small hill we are using as a wall. They swing knives the size of broadswords or spears the length of tent poles. Twenty soldiers are dead before the Na’vi are dispatched. Turning back to the forest, I hear the twang of bow strings. An arrow with vibrant blue fletching whizzes past me, catching Sergeant Patterson in her side. The force of the arrow lifts her up and off her feet sending her yards backward.
In one swift motion, I turn and crouch sprinting to her. The snap of gunfire continues as I kneel beside the sergeant. The four-foot arrow still sticks out of her and she's gone white with pain. Quickly, I turn her over to get a better look at the wound. The broad crystal arrowhead has cut a wide gash in her side just below her ribs. Quickly feeling the area, I can tell the force of the impact has torn the muscle away from the ribs. Painful, but it won't kill her. Pulling out an electronic bone saw, I cut through the thick wood shaft of the arrow, throwing it away. Quickly, I pull out the head of the arrow on the other end. The large gash starts pissing blood. With a trained motion, I pull out a slap-on bandage, holding it tight to her side to let the adhesive stick. As soon as it's secure I begin pulling her up and over my shoulder when I hear a thump and an animalistic war cry.
Whipping my head around, I see a massive Na’vi. At least nine ft tall with deep blue skin. She glares down at me with an endless pool of rage in her eyes. Her face is painted with wide, black stripes and white dots giving the appearance of some fierce god-like spider. I feel the tip of her bow wrap over my head like a noose. She yanks the bow forcing the wood into my windpipe and me up into the air. I'm sent into a high arch over the dirt berm and into a tree. I hear more than feel my metal leg crunch into the tree, sending a small cloud of splinters up and out. The sudden change of momentum sends the back of my skull into the trunk.
The last thing I see is the Na’vi woman flowing through the battle like an elegant wave in a firelight.