Intertwined

Injury

One Year Earlier

The Omaticaya clans warriors had always spent a lot of time patrolling the areas surrounding their land. When the sky people started coming they became wary and so spread out their patrols further and further, trying to get glimpses of what the sky people were doing here. When they were first approached by them, the Omaticaya were naturally worried. They had witnessed the sky people tearing up the land without reason and then using these primitive weapons to kill the life of mother Eywa that came too close. Their weapons killed slowly, giving the recipient an agonizing death. The Omaticaya might had been able to overlook this fact, they could teach them the right ways, show them where to shoot so their prey died swift and painless. But that was before they saw the sky people just leave the dead where they killed them. They were just killing, werent even trying to use the body of their kills to provide for themselves.

So when the sky people saw them and tried to approach with their weapons drawn, the Omaticaya naturally drew their own weapons and were poised, ready to shoot. It was a tense affair and naturally, neither side was giving. Until a smaller sky person came forward, no weapons on his person and hands held high in the air. He was speaking rapidly to the Navi and the men behind him. His language was harsh and unpleasant to listen to and along with that he was acting like the Navi should understand him, growing frustrated as the Omaticaya just grew tenser. The only time they started to relax even remotely was when the sky people themselves started to drop their weapons. Slowly they dropped their own, but still gripped them tight encase hostility arose again. That was the start of the tentative truce, for lack of a better word, between the Navi and the Sky People.

With time the Navi and the Sky People started to communicate. Their languages being passed and taught to one another. The cultures on the other hand werent really getting through on either side. The Sky People didnt understand the obsession the Navi had with life and their connection with the so called Eywa, while the Navi couldnt understand the Skies Peoples technology and their defection from their own mother. Soon enough the Avatar program was started, the Navi lending small samples of their blood to the cause, not really seeing too much of a harm in it. Maybe if they became one with the people they could be taught and learn how to treasure their life and world. They just didnt realize all that was going to happen in the future do to one little blood sample.

Present time

If one word could describe Miles Quartich it was tenacious. Of course many other words could describe him, but none fit as well as tenacious did, at least to himself. He was a survivor and once given a task he never gave up. Some would say that it was a personal weakness though, because when he got his mind set on a task he often became obsessed with it. Take for instance this new mission on Pandora, which in his opinion was about the shittiest planet in the solar system.

Here he was, laying immobile on a cot in a dingy little medical bay. The only sounds to greet his ears were the subtle beeping of the machines and a doctor typing away on his computer. Miles couldnt do much besides sit and plot his time here on this accursed planet. He knew what he needed to do but the problem was how to achieve those goals. He would have to move up to ranks, he needed a prime position that would allow him the flexibility and control he was going to need. His only setback to this plan was that freaking attack, it scratched the side of his face sure, but it also damaged his eyesight and hearing. He had extreme blood loss and a concussion, coupled with the hearing and eyesight, he was going to be put on the backburner for everything. Most likely looked over on every occasion, but he wouldnt let that come to pass. He would become the best this fucking base ever saw and trample all that get in his way. He wouldnt be treated like an insignificant bug ever again.

"-ritch? Mr. Quaritch? Can you hear me?"

He quickly snapped his eyes over to the little fool that was waving his hands in front of Miles face. It was the doctor, his eyes hidden behind big, dopey glasses and unruly curls flying everywhere. The doctor was older, maybe pushing sixty, with a white fluffy beard and bushy eyebrows. He was small, maybe a head shorter than Miles himself, with a narrow shoulders and a small pudge at the waist. He was wearing a typical white lab coat that all these goons seemed to favor. He had an insufferable grin on his face and a strange twinkle in his eyes, apale blue, both of which were making Mile uncomfortable. The mans name tag was only hanging on by a thread so he couldnt even began to berate him for having the gall to wave his hand in Miles face.

"Name" Miles grunted out.

"Excuse me? I dont quite understand? Did you forget your na-"

"Give me your name!"

"Oh Im terribly sorry," the doctor said with a small chuckle. "I guess I did forget to mention that little tidbit. Im Doctor Woor, Albert Woor." He had an accent, possibly Irish, which slurred his words just a little.

"When can I get out of this bed?"

"Well, soon I hope, youre recovering remarkably fast. Im afraid there will be some scaring though. There is a scheduled trip back to earth in about a week I put you on-"

"No." Quartitch snapped, once again cutting off the good doctor.

"Im sorry, whats wrong my boy?"

"I will not be going back to earth. Just patch me up and put me back out in the field."

"Well I guess that could be done, its going to be some pretty nasty scaring though, as long as youre fine with that." And there the doctor went again, smiling like a fool.

"Do it."