Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Tìfnu,” Tawnla says as he sits on the edge of the great vine, “I’m sorry.”

His beautiful Tìfnu, his ikran, his partner in crime, chatters at him mournfully. She settles beside him, her tail brushing the smaller floating mountain that the vine has grown around on its journey upward. It draws his attention to Storyteller’s Stone below them where the unique purple leaves flutter in the late eclipse breeze.

“It’s not that I want to leave you behind. I’m going to miss you so much. I just – I have to know if there’s a way to stop them. The RDA has taken so much from us, from Eywa, that I have to try.” He looks up at the eclipsed sky where Naranawm covers a third of the stars, as imposing as it is beautiful. The waterfall off of the larger mountain just above him occasionally sprays the pair in a fine mist. They don’t mind – it’s the middle of the hot season in Pandora so the cool water is appreciated. “Even if it requires me to spend the rest of my life on Earth to figure it out, it will have been worth it.”

Tìfnu nudges her orange and teal head against Tawnla’s neck, grumbling. He laughs and pulls out a slice of fish for her, petting over her eye ridges as she eats. They sit, staring out over the Kinglor Forest for a while.

Tawnla finally takes a deep breath and asks, “Want to go on one last flight?”

Her answer is to narrow her eyes at him and shove him off the great vine they were perched on, sending him into freefall. “Tìfnu! That was not cool!” Tìfnu chortles and caws as she appears next to him and they simply stay like that, diving toward the rainforest canopy, two intertwined souls about to be torn apart forever. His heart aches at the reminder, bringing fresh tears to his eyes.

He calls out to her, a chirp and a trill, heart shattering at the thought of no longer being able to see her twist in the sky so effortlessly to form tsaheylu after this.

Their final flight is spent winding through the floating mountains and massive arches of the Kinglor Forest. The Aranahe cheer him on when he flies by their Hometree and he cheers back. 

When they land atop one of the waterfalls from the Upper Plains into the Kinglor Forest, Tawnla asks Tìfnu to protect his siblings, even if neither of them bond with her. Tìfnu stares at him like that was never even a question. Mournfully, they break their bond and let go of each other, sharing one last look as Tìfnu flies off into the forest below.

Tawnla sits on the rocks for a few moments more, already aching for the warmth of his ikran at his side.

When he finally stands and realizes he’s now stranded himself at the top of these cliffs, he groans and finds a pa’li to take him down and toward the Resistance-Sarentu Airbase. Unfortunately for him, it’s clear across the forest basin where Drill Base Omega used to be. Apparently the Airfield has one last thing for him before their launch tomorrow.

“Ma’Tawnla,” Ko’aw whimpers as she clasps the back of his neck, “ma’tansopyu, ma’ eveng .” She draws him inward and holds their foreheads together. Tawnla closes his eyes reflexively, melting into the hold of his mother. His hand reaches up and mirrors hers, desperately pressing closer. 

“I love you, my child,” she says in English, “and you have been training for this moment for cycles upon cycles. Ma’Tawnla, I do not want you to leave! I do not want you to leave, but you have important work to do.” Ko’aw sniffs and suddenly Tawnla simply cannot open his eyes. If he does, he knows he’ll see his mother crying, mourning a child she still holds, and then he’ll be crying too.

It turns out he doesn’t need to open his eyes to break into tears – he feels Ukemrey, Wolaw and Tswey join the hug and he shatters. His family is the only thing holding him upright as his knees buckle and sobs rip out of him.

“Ma’yawntu, ma’eveng,” Ukemrey murmurs into the crown of his head, “you will make us all proud. It will be difficult to be more proud of you than we already are, but we’ll manage.”

“At least you won’t eat all of the fruit from under our noses.” Tswey’s words do nothing to hide the shakiness of his voice, even from where he’s tucked against Tawnla’s chest. Tawnla draws his free hand up to settle against his brother’s scalp and pulls him in tighter.

Wolaw laughs wetly from the other side of Ukemrey and Ko’aw, blowing their nose before adding, “or the nectar.”

“I’m going to miss you all so much,” Tawnla says between sobs, struggling to touch all of them at once. Someone knocks his visor askew, but he won’t be wearing it for much longer, so he leaves it be.

Eventually, they break apart and turn to the Resistance members watching them. Ko’aw grasps Tawnla’s arm before he takes a second step toward the Airbase gate. “One last thing, ma’eveng!” She beckons Ukemrey over, who lights up and pulls a length of braided fibre, stone, and wooden beads from a waist pouch.

“It’s one last addition for your songcord.” Tswey gestures to Tawnla’s left arm where his songcord is wrapped around his forearm. “One bead from each of the clans that you’ve visited in your life.” 

There’s an awkward pause. “I’m not, y’know, dying–”

“I know!” Tswey is blushing through his indignancy, nearly to the point of stomping a foot. It’s a bad habit he picked up from a family friend in the Resistance, Thomas Richards. “In your life with Eywa.”

“That’s better,” Tawnla teases. He takes the offered extension reverently and carefully attaches it to the end with Wolaw’s help. They grab his arm before he can pull away fully and firmly tie the songcord back onto his arm. The beads clink together as Wolaw traces a finger across them when they finish, squeezing his hand when they reach it. He squeezes back and Wolaw steps to hug their younger brother.

Dr. Richards gently clears his throat behind Tawnla. “It’s time, everyone. I’ve found that the best view of the airfield is from the abandoned RDA airstation on the cliffs over there.” Dr. Richards points to the grey mass of metal on the mountainside across from the airfield.

“Thank you, Amelia, both for honoring us with Tawnla’s journey to the stars and for taking care of him.” Ko’aw hugs her briefly, followed by a more traditional thank you from Ukemrey. Tawnla smiles sadly at his family as Ko’aw turns to him.

The breeze picks up slightly as the eclipse starts, rustling the undergrowth and carrying the soothing noises of the Kinglor Forest to their ears. “I have to go, Mom.” His voice cracks like he’s not twenty-six cycles old and he feels his ears pin and eyes pinch in an attempt to not cry.

“Oh, I know, Tawnla. Just – let me look at you one last time.” Tawnla steps backward and somewhat mockingly holds his arms out and spins. His mother darts in to adjust his chest piece needlessly, considering he’s trading it for a spacesuit soon. She holds him there for one, two breaths before she finally lets him go. “Go, ma’tansopyu, fly through the stars and live.”

“Goodbye Mom, Dad, Wolaw, Tswey. I love you all so much. I know I’ll think of you all often.” Dr. Richards holds a gentle hand to his elbow to guide him through the air base gate. He’s grateful for it because he feels like he’d be knocked over by the breeze without it. They’re a handful of strides past the gate when he hears his father call out.

“Tawnla!” His father is grinning, body leaning forward, hands cupped around his mouth. “Sivako!” Ukemrey raises a fist in the air, jostling it as the rest of the family joins in. Tawnla feels starbursts crawl through his spine and cheeks as heat blooms in his chest as his family cheers him on.

“Irayo!” He calls back. His voice is strong and steady despite his chest feeling like it will never feel full again.

Tawnla’s eyes close briefly as he flips the startup sequence switch.

“Initiating startup.” Tawnla says, eyes now open as he watches the numerous buttons light up blue one by one across his control panel.

“Affirm startup.” The airbase echoes back. 

“Starting auxiliary engines. Engine one, green. Engine two, green. Engine three, green.” Each added rumble brings him closer and closer to tears. He’s locked in his space suit now, though, so that’d be terribly uncomfortable. He blinks the tears away and swallows the knot in his throat instead.

“Affirm three green auxiliary engines.” 

“Life support green. Cryosystems green.” Tawnla breathes slowly through the building panic. The windows decrease in tint revealing the blast chamber they had built for spaceship launches. The tall, dull concrete was just as ugly as ever and the thought was slightly comforting in an odd way.

“Affirm green life support and green cryosystems.”

This is it. Tawnla stares at the last blue button in front of him, equal parts terrified and in awe as if a palulukan is staring him down. His hand shakes as he reaches for it. Before he can think twice, Tawnla stabs it with a stiff index finger. It flashes blue. “Starting main –” Tawnla sobs. “Starting main engine.”

There’s a brief silence. “Tawnla,” Dr. Richards, his Resistance godmother for Eywa’s sake, calls down the radio. Her voice is soft and soothing and Eywa he just wants to crawl into her arms right now. “You don’t have to do this.” Tawnla’s tears only flow faster at that.

“No, no. I’m going to do this. I can do this.” Tawnla takes a single deep breath and holds it as he pushes the flashing blue light. It goes dark for three seconds before it blares green as the main engine roars to life. He huffs out sharply, smoothing over his aching soul with the sturdiest imaginary resin he can find. He can cry himself to cryosleep later. “Main engine green.”

“Affirm green main engine. T-minus five minutes to launch.” Dr. Richards says. “All systems look good, Tawnla. We’re going to miss you a lot around here. The Base won’t feel the same without you.” Dr. Richards is silent for a moment, then, “I’m going to miss you so much, hun. I just… Check in if you find a way, okay? If we find out you had the opportunity to call us and didn't we're going to have issues, young man.”

Tawnla laughs as he watches the engine force near the launch value. He envisions more resin, then chokes out, “I hear you loud and clear, Doctor. I’m going to miss you all as well. I love you, Amelia.”

“T-minus one minute. I love you too, kiddo. We’ll sing a song for you at the next Great Games.”

“Don’t let the Zeswa win almost everything again.” He swallows harshly as his HUD flashes. “Launch value is green.”

Dr. Richards lets out a quiet sob and Tawnla’s heart pings. “Affirm green launch value. T-minus 15 seconds.”

“Irayo, ma’Eywa, ma’na’vi. Oe ìrysan kaltxì sìk ne aytanhì fpi nga.” Tawnla tenses his legs together as the engines grow ever louder.

“T-minus five, four,” Tawnla takes a deep, shuddering breath and tenses his core. “Three, two, one.”

The arm’s disengagement is felt through the entire spaceship. Tawnla only has a second to appreciate the thump before the thrusters are pushing him down into his seat, pressing, pressing, pressing–

“We have liftoff.” Tawnla sucks in a top-up breath and holds it. “Sivako, Tawnla. Irayo ulte kìyevame.”

Tawnla forces the breath out harshly, and on his next breath in, “Kìyevame, Amelia Richards.”

It’s silent. The one thing they didn’t prepare him for was the silence.

His cryosleep chamber is far enough from the engines that the ship’s soundproofing completely blocks it out. There are no beeps, no clanks, no noise. All Tawnla can hear is his breathing and it is wholly unsettling after living on Pandora, in Eywa, for all of his life. Until now.

He moves to prepare his cryosystem when he hears a noise – his songcord. He twists his forearm just to hear it again. Tawnla gracelessly sits on the floor, hands occupied with untying his songcord. Some of the beads, those that sit closer to his wrist, are older and weathered, smoothed over from time. He thumbs over the very first one – Tì’ongokx – and imagines what his older sibling might have looked like at his birth. What about his mom? His dad? Some less interesting, but no less happy, life passes, represented by simple braids, before he gets to the next bead. Taronyu, an ear bone taken from the very winzaw he claimed as his first hunt.

A lot more time passes – they must have been traveling far – before he reaches the next bead. His Iknimaya and – oh, Eywa, his beloved Tìfnu – ikran bonding. The purple resin practically glows in the harsh, efficient LED lighting. 

One of his proudest beads, Fpeio, is next. It’s not as noticeable as the other beads, being a braid with bits of shell, but it’s a loud yellow-colored fibre that has always seemed to scream “don’t forget me!” at him. The Great Games, hosted in the Heart of the Plains, was always something he had dreamed of participating in. He brought his family and the Sarentu great pride by beating a majority of the competitors in a few of the games. After one such game, he found the most gorgeous ikran spirit shell. The other competitors helped him make it into a songcord bead.

Ska’a is next, representing the very first time he destroyed an RDA base by himself just like his Sarentu ancestor, Se’aylur, did. The stories of Ri’nela, Teylan, and Se’aylur are incredibly popular among Na’vi youth, especially the Sarentu. He hammered the bead, a small scrap metal ring, himself. It might have taken hours, but he was proud of it.

Zeykoyu sombers him as he recalls just how many Zeswa perished during the epidemic the RDA caused. It had taken them nearly a whole cycle to find the cause of the disease. When Tawnla finally found it in an underground RDA base at the source of a river, the nearby clans rendered swift revenge. The Zeswa and the Plains healed slowly, but the knowledge of what happened that cycle will forever remain memorialized by the zakru ivory bead. The new tsahìk had gifted it to him with unsure, nervous hands that were trembling with the remnants of sickness and grief.

Kìyevame was bittersweet. The Resistance had held a celebration for him at the very airfield he launched from. The Resistance scoured the Resistance-Sarentu Airfield for hours, apparently, as they attempted to figure out a bead to give him. Eventually, Leo found unused nuts and washers from the various test rockets and braided them together with bits of electrical wire. There were many tears that night.

Last was Tansopyu, the length of beads that Wolaw helped him tie in. The carvings in each bead were delicate and detailed. Clearly, each clan had their most skilled craftspeople work on these beads. They’re all gorgeous and nauseating and empowering. 

Carefully, he winds the songcord up and places it in a vacuum sealed bag. Next, his clothes are carefully arranged in a locker and he places the songcord’s bag with them. He slowly dons the cryosystem scrubs, feeling more and more like he’s climbing upstream just in front of a waterfall. His mind fuzzes over slightly as reality begins to crash down upon him once more.

He turns to the cryosystem screen and taps the SHIP – STASIS button. PENDING STASIS – (1) CRYOSYSTEM TO GO flashes back at him. He mechanically turns toward the plain looking drawer and draws it out. The memory gel will always look and feel weird to him. He pokes at it before climbing in, drawing his kuru over a shoulder and laying it across his chest. He lays his head back and pulls the metal cage down.

After the drawer has closed and he hears his own heartbeat loud and clear in the cryochamber, he closes his eyes, willing the chamber to both work faster and not work at all. In the darkness, already hundreds of kilometers away from his family, he cries.

Chapter Text

He comes to slowly, somehow both bitterly cold and not aware of his body at all. He can feel the cool gel across his skin and carefully flutters his eyelashes. There’s light. It’s not LED light, signifying that he’s thawed enough for the chamber to spit him out. It’s natural light but… strange. There’s something different about the light here. Here… here is…

Oh.

Here is the Sol system. The great home of the Sky People – where the RDA came from. Tawnla twitches his fingers and toes, grateful that cryosleep let him keep all of them. After a minute or two, Tawnla’s able to move his arm just enough to lift the cage and roll onto his side. His back thanks him as the pressure eases. No matter how good the gel is, it will always restrict blood flow eventually.

He’s able to get an IV in ten minutes after he wakes up, which he thinks is a pretty good pace, and fifteen minutes after he wakes up he’s able to record a message to slowly send back to the Resistance-Sarentu Airbase. They might have achieved space travel but sending data wasn’t quite their priority. 

It all goes by in flashes up until his IV is mostly finished, and by then, he has Mars in his view. 

Tawnla snacks on Earth-based food as he watches Mars come and go. The food’s pretty good considering he apparently can’t taste half the flavors. He’s just grateful the genetic anomaly that made him smaller also made him capable of breathing Earth’s atmosphere and eating Earth foods. In an attempt to distract himself, he pulls out the files the Resistance sent with him, carefully inspecting the docket labeled “TAWNLA – DO NOT READ until Earth representatives have read them”. Even if he wanted to, there’s a tamper seal in place. He wasn’t about to jeopardize his entire mission for a little curiosity. He sets it back in the envelope and pulls out the folder labeled “GENETICS”.

The first time a Na’vi presented so incredibly small at birth, the entirety of the Sarentu clan nearly fainted. The Resistance swooped in and, with the permission of tsahìk Ri’nela, performed field tests of all kinds – including genetic markers. The infant was indeed of the two assumed parents but a profound mutation had taken place. It took years of testing to determine the mutation’s full effects. Eventually, the Resistance boiled down to just as strong, just as durable, just as entirely Na’vi, now with the additional perks of being as small as a human, capable of aerobic respiration and consuming carbon-based foods. 

The mutation proved to be recessive on all chromosomes, but multiple chromosomes, in varying places, could produce similar effects. If on chromosome two, the Na’vi would be somewhere closer to the seven-feet-tall range but have a more limited diet of human foods. On chromosome seven, the Na’vi is much closer to six feet at maturity but has increased respiratory efficiency in both Pandora and Earth atmospheres.

So far, this mutation has only been seen in the Sarentu. Some think it is Eywa’s will. Some think it is just science – natural, RDA, or otherwise. Some are just grateful it has given them more of a chance to possibly secure relations on Earth for the rest of Pandora, given the RDA does not rule the entirety of Earth at this point.

He’s drawn from the Resistance’s files as Earth comes into view. Like Pandora, it’s a little blue and white ball, though it stands as its own planet with a single moon. It’s also significantly less green and more blue. One of the Resistance Earth books claims that the surface of Earth is 71% ocean. Given how old those books were, he wonders if that’s still true. Granted, the Resistance argues with a lot of the books they kept from the RDA, especially ones about human bloodlines, engineering ethics, politics, and something called Norse mythology.

Tawnla rouses himself when the ship announces he has thirty minutes until he’s in orbit. He dresses himself in the clothes he wore on Pandora, packs his Sky People clothes, books, currencies, and documents, and sits down in the pilot chair to catch up on current world events. Eywa, they are unorganized and distrustful. Tawnla thinks that might be the lack of Eywa, or something like Eywa. Having a giant communal brain, in the words of the Resistance, goes lengths for world peace. Tawnla thinks they might have been on to something now. Ten minutes after he starts reading about a group called the Avengers and an alien attack that happened five years ago in Sol time, the ship tells him to get to the landing vehicle.

He hesitates as he passes the cryochamber on his way to the launch room. His songcord is still in a locker, sitting safely in a vacuum-sealed bag. He longs for its comfort, its familiarity, but understands the dangers of the unknown. What if the Sky People down there take everything from him? He’d never see his songcord again.

But what if he never gets the chance to come back up to the main ship? What if he needs to add a bead?

What if he needs a little piece of home while he’s down there on that strange planet?

Tawnla caves and hurriedly secures the songcord around his forearm, tying tightly just as Wolaw had. He swears he can feel the ghosts of their fingers across the inside of his elbow and down the beads. He clenches his hand into a fist, missing the feel of their hands in his. His heart aches terribly as his feet continue to carry him to the launch room.

Even as he continues to read on the trip down to the surface of the planet, he is left with more questions than answers. He’s drawn from his screens and mind as he takes in the Earth. He’s projected to land on the North American continent, in a region called the Midwest of the United States of America. This is a democratic nation, he’s learned, with a checks-and-balances system and several layers of governance at the federal, state, and local levels. It’s complicated enough to hurt his brain whenever he thinks about it. As the landing vehicle – which, by using the Earth’s internet could be called a fighter jet – approaches the middle of the continent, his projected landing zone is updated to Kansas. Kansas is a topographically flat space, very small in population, but economically important through their farmlands. As he gets closer, the mountains and lakes he saw in the distance disappear beyond the horizon and then it’s all just… Kansas. The sky seems bigger here than on even the Upper Plains, which Tawnla once thought to be an impossible feat.

The sudden lack of motion startles Tawnla as the jet lands and it’s instinct that has him shutting the jet down as his mind reels at the thought of opening the hatch. He doesn’t detect anyone nearby, so theoretically it would be safe for him to get out, but the mere thought of the finality of opening the hatch is oppressive. He feels his breath quicken in a detached sort of manner as his mind tries to wrap around the concept of him being on a whole different planet. Sure, the Sky People did it, but that didn’t mean a Na’vi would, nonetheless Tawnla. 

Eventually, his breath slows. The jet’s HUD only displays the local time (9:32 A.M., whatever that means) and an image of the jet’s various exterior panels. Considering the sun is in the eastern part of the sky, according to his compass, that must mean it is morning time. 

The hatch’s release button is flashing meaning all it would take to expose him to Earth is a single push of a button. A single button separates him from out there and it nearly sends him spiraling again. Much like the launch, though, he punches the button before his brain can take over.

He breathes for the first time on Earth. Earth air is… light. Pandora’s air is thick and nearly soup-like – Earth’s air is nothing in comparison to that. Thanks to the Resistance’s training, he’s plenty prepared for the new weight of Earth’s greater gravity. He breathes in a second time, then a third. He climbs out of the jet as he breathes the fourth and fifth times, and up to his tenth breath is spent climbing down from the jet. Breaths eleven through eighteen are spent locking down the jet and gathering his wits.

Breath nineteen is spent starting the journey to the nearest fields to wait for nightfall, and breath twenty is one of the greatest releases of tension he’s ever felt in his life.

He doesn’t get to see the night sky in Kansas. 

An organization by the name of “SHIELD” finds him first.

He hears them first, but from what he knows of Sky People – humans, now, Tawnla guesses – technology, they’ve probably been watching him for some time now. He spies their individual electromagnetic fields (thank you for the name of it, Resistance researchers) through the crops and darkness as they creep up and surround him. There are easily thirty or more armed individuals and Tawnla forces his arms to relax at his sides instead of going for the knife attached to his thigh.

He only sees their physical shape when they shine their flashlight through the cornrows of the innocent farmer’s land he arrived on.

“Do not move!” One of them forcefully calls out. “Do not move!”

“Okay, okay, not moving!” Tawnla’s heart skips a few beats. He knows he can take several RDA bullets and be fine within minutes, but he’s not too sure about Earth human bullets. They could be the same or they could be incredibly different. He’s not risking anything. “I’ve genuinely come in peace, I promise.” He’s not sure that would be any help, but staying silent probably would have hurt his odds more.

“Slowly put your hands in the air!” If the humans are shocked that he understands English, nonetheless speaks it, they do an excellent job of not showing it. Not even their hearts stutter. They’ve closed the circle on him now, forming two rings of armed people around him. Tawnla feels his heart beat faster in fear and anticipation as he very carefully raises his open and empty palms at a wuwuk le’awtu pace.

“I have a knife strapped to the outside of my right thigh,” Tawnla says clearly, “that is my only weapon.”

Their firearms remain trained on his body but they move slightly faster toward him, seemingly a little more comfortable with the situation. Tawnla’s ears twitch as he fights to not react to the man who darts forward to disarm him.

It’s another internal struggle to not fight back as the inner circle collapses in on him, restraining him with handcuffs behind his back and shoving him into the dirt as they kick his knees apart. It’s a flurry of activity and before he knows it, he’s being guided into the back of a supposedly armored vehicle. He assumes as much, at least, because the material looks about the same to his senses as those that the RDA uses for their AMPs.

No one talks to him while they drive. The only thing Tawnla can reliably pick out is the sound of their five-engine caravan speeding down asphalt roads. The soldiers wear helmets with blacked-out visors, a mixture of kevlar and some other fabric – cotton? – across the rest of their bodies. No where on their bodies do they have identifying marks. No company name, string of numbers, or even a flag. It’s unnerving how silent they are. All of the humans back on Pandora are practically chatter-boxes – you’d have a better chance at silence with an ikran than with the Resistance.

After what must have been hours of driving (and one reluctant bathroom break) they lurch to a stop and Tawnla is practically tossed out the back as soon as they blindfold him. A for effort, but that doesn’t stop him from keeping his eyes wide open and scanning the electromagnetism of their base. They don’t have any massive turrets or SAMs like RDA bases do, but they have several sentries placed every twenty feet along tall walls that surround the large compound, which has several antenna and satellite dishes sitting atop short buildings. What this base has an abundance of, in comparison to most RDA bases, is basements. Tawnla can see a majority of the wiring and SCIF technologies that outline the rooms and there are a lot of rooms.

The soldiers march him through the compound almost to the other end of the base before they duck into a small building. They push him into a room and pull his blindfold off simultaneously so he has to squeeze his eyes shut as harsh LED lighting glares down at him from the short ceiling. He may be fairly close to the average human height, coming in at around six feet and two inches, but this ceiling cannot be any more than six-eight. From what he read, the standard room height on Earth is around eight feet. Why is this room so short? And plain? And bright? Is that a mirror?

And then he looks down and spots the two metal chairs and table and recalls what he had seen on RDA bases. Well then.

Not so different after all.