Ma Tsawke

Chapter Thirteen

The Na'vi fiercely attack the machines ruthlessly cutting down the sacred forests, their onslaught leaving devastation in its wake. The clash results in the tragic loss of the entire human squad, their lives sacrificed amid the chaos and the equipment lays in ruins. Selfridge, with a somber gaze, watches the aftermath unfold, a heavy weight settling on his conscience.

Quaritch, equally affected by the recent events, outlines a plan with grim determination. As Selfridge absorbs the details, his mind wanders back to Grace's impassioned warnings. He rolls the unobtanium cube in his palm, the tangible connection to the precious resource serving as a stark reminder of the high cost of their relentless pursuit.

"I can do it with minimal casualties to the indigenous. We'll clear them out with gas first. It'll be humane. More or less." Quaritch's words hang in the air, laden with a disquieting sense of practicality that clashes with the importance of the plan. He sighs, weariness etched on his face as he rubs at it.

"Hey, don't go limp on me now. This is exactly the incident we need." Quaritch's retort cuts through the room, a callous response to the wavering behavior he perceives in Selfridge.

"We started it." Selfridge, overcome by guilt, rubs his eyes, the weight of responsibility for the lives lost that morning pressing heavily on his shoulders. Remorse colors his words with a shade of regret, an acknowledgment of the consequences of their actions.

"It worked, didn't it?" Quaritch snips smugly, his tone devoid of empathy, making Selfridge furrow his eyebrows in a mix of frustration and internal conflict.

"Alright, let's pull the trigger." The final decision hangs in the air, a moment of grim resolution that underscores the path of the choices made in the face of impending conflict.

In the bio lab, Max and the lab staff move glumly, packing files and equipment under the watchful eye of armed sec-ops troopers. Jake, Grace and Norm stare blankly at each other, their expressions mirroring a shared disbelief and sorrow.

"They bulldozed a sacred site on purpose to trigger a response. They're fabricating this war to get what they want." Grace concludes, her voice tinged with frustration as she rubs at her forehead.

"I can't believe that. Why do all of this? Why wait this long just to end it like this?" Norm's question is a rhetorical plea that reverberates with simmering anger. The realization that they are complicit in creating conflict with a peaceful people fuels his frustration.

"Yup. That's how it's done. When people are sitting on shit you want, you make them your enemy. Then you're justified in taking it." Jake explains the cynical thinking, his mind consumed by thoughts of Tanhì with worry and desperation as he hopes for the well-being of the people and longs to be back in her arms.

Trudy bursts into the lab, her flight gear a testament to the urgency of her message.

"Sec-ops is rolling the gunships. They're gonna hit Hometree!" She warns, her breathlessness accentuating the gravity of the situation.

"When?" Jake snaps out of his reverie, horror enveloping his features as the reality of the impending attack sinks in.

"Now. We're spooling up now! I gotta go." Trudy's departure is swift, leaving them with an apologetic look and a touch on Norm's shoulder before taking off.

"God." Jake wheels furiously toward the door, an overwhelming surge of panic propelling him forward. Grace follows closely, the determination of the moment etched on both their faces as they rush to HQ's main operating room.

Selfridge surveys the airfield, his gaze sweeping over the crews swarming over the gunships, loading ordnance. He turns as Jake and Grace charge toward him.