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pandorafallz · 16 days

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Lest We Rest Upon Our Graves | C12

tw: heavy topics of infant loss

Alma kept her façade up as she led the way back to the Council tent where the sisters would be, her hands in tight fists as she kept her breathing in check; to keep her heart in check. Very aware as So’lek easily caught up with her but she was done now.

She could almost feel his questions but now wasn’t the time. The sisters would need to know what would be coming in a few years' time and prepare in advance. It was better to know than to be like Jake and to be taken by surprise by these new avatars.

Recoms, as a concept… Alma was honest in that she liked that. A form of rebirth into a body she could love and cherish. A body she was more familiar with. A body she could care for. To never have to worry about unlinking. A chance where she could… have children that would survive and thrive. To be accepted as one of the people like Jake.

She had no idea what the RDA used to preserve the soldier’s minds, but she certainly had no means to replicate it on her link-bed servers even if she wanted to try. Too big of a scan without the correct storage drives too. Her last remaining avatar was probably too unstable now, wherever Nalin had put it.

“Cortez.” So’lek’s shadow overtook her first. “It will be best that I explain the situation to the sisters.”

Alma’s jaw tensed a little, turning her head up to look at him unable to help the frown dent between her eyebrows but she forced herself to nod despite her disagreement of it. She had done most of the work here yet he gets the spoils. She would garner no favour here with the Zeswa. “I’m going to the ship then.” She turned without another word back the way they had taken which would fork back to the outer circle of tents.

Alma heard him call after her but she didn’t stop or acknowledge his words. Once again, dismissed. It's always the same thing. Ever the reminder she wasn’t one of them as if she wasn’t well aware. It hurt, honestly now that she was now being seen as redundant once she had given them what they wanted to know. A tool, simply like that.

Her death truly wouldn’t matter to them. In the end.

Her breath shook a little, swallowing back more for now as she walked alone to the ship.

Anqa was there and looked to be napping which was certainly well-earned but not enough for her to feel guilty as she clambered on and startling her awake.

“Huh—Oh.” Anqa sat up blearily before she looked at her monitors for something. “That wasn’t long.”

“We got the confirmations we wanted,” Alma said though she eyed the pilot for a moment. Her heart lurched a little at the long-distant memory that resurfaced.

A small tree with moss, a dug hole with the metal box, hands shaking as she lowered it down…

“Is there enough fuel to get to TAP’s school in the Kinglor forest and back to Base?” Alma asked, withdrawing from the thought sharply to keep herself from spiralling. Now was not the time, she could wait until she had answers. If Harding was being truthful or just...being damn cruel for bringing up something she had tried to not think about and had long since buried.

Anqa blinked at her for a long moment then down to her instruments. “Yes, but I’m not making that trip today.”

“I need to go there, Anqa.” Alma couldn’t help the firmness in her voice. “We’re closer here than we are in the clouded forest. It’s shorter.”

“I’m not making another trip unless we’re returning back to base.” Anqa argued, “I’m sorry but I’m too damn tired.”

“Then nap here for a little bit. The sisters are still talking to So’lek.” She could sit and wait for Anqa to rest if it meant—

“No. I’m going back to sleep in my own bed.”

“Anqa—“

“I said no, Cortez!” Anqa snapped, her voice raising a fraction. “I know you want to go there but I’ve been in the middle of a war this morning. I’ve been up since four getting my ship in action. What you want is not my priority when I need to rest in a safe place and in the arms of the woman I love.”

Alma blinked at the pilot, taken aback entirely and even Anqa looked a little surprised at her own outburst but her expression remained set. Alma dropped her gaze, offering a single nod before she withdrew from the Samson cockpit entirely and out.

“Cortez…” Anqa sighed, sounding frustrated and apologetic but she already shut the small airlock between and slipped from the ship entirely.

She didn’t go far. Not really. Alma wasn’t stupid enough to just wander off now but she settled on the grass about 15 meters from Samson, legs outstretched, her bruised arm resting against her thigh and the other set back to support her weight. The wind was still sharp and she could feel the pressures of it push against her mask and how it flurried through her clothes. Cold, but bearable.

Cold like the lab had always been. She didn’t feel like she was sitting in the Circle either…

‘Hey, Alma. Give us a spin!’

Alma’s head turned around from her desk to see the familiar face of Dr Michael Brookes standing by, his tablet up and recording. She gave him a look. “Put that down, I’m working.” She waved it away although he didn’t lower it.

“Look, you’re carrying the first ever human going to be born on Pandora! This is for research!”

“Have you gloated you help make it?” She eyed her fiancee with a look.

Michael just grinned, “You’re doing all the hard work, Doc. My job is done.”

“Ha, like hell it isn’t.” She retorted back, “You’ve already agreed to be very involved so you’re on diaper duty.” Alma twirled her engagement ring at him as she stood up from her desk though careful with how large the bump was but at Michael’s pouty look behind the tablet, she rolled her eyes, giving a soft spin with a hand on the front of her belly. “Happy?”

“Very!” Michael lowered the tablet down, setting it off to the side against the desk lamp as his hands came to the bump. “Only a few weeks to go.”

Alma smiled, moving his hand to the heel of the baby’s foot. “Thank god.”

Michael snorted, “That eager?”

“She head-butts my bladder and I can barely fit into my link-bed now. Even with the alterations made to the top chamber and supports for my body. I can’t do more than an hour linked up before I have to unlink to move about.” It was an increasingly frustrating thing and she knew Mercer was getting annoyed but she had to value her own physical health here and for making sure her child’s development was unhindered.

“Well, that shouldn’t hamper your work too much when you’re not with the kids. They’re still…adapting.” Michael looked uncomfortable, his eyes remaining down on the bump though Alma felt the rise of guilt still but quashed it. “They’ll get a new avatar driver teacher once you’re ready to go. Hell’s Gate would be far better suited for our daughter anyway. I’ll be going there tomorrow to get set up anyway. I can meet you there.”

Alma nodded. “I know it’s just…hard to leave them.” After all that the kids have gone through this past year… a new face might throw them off. Still, another Avatar was far better than a human face. They did respond well to her given she looked Na’vi to them enough. She could still help at a distance with the new driver too. She could still make it a success. If… she was lucky, maybe once her daughter was bigger, she could introduce them to the Sarentu kids.

Alma’s breath shook as she let the memory play out in her head from so long ago. It felt like a different lifetime. Everything had gone downhill from that day onwards. It brought back a new pain in her heart. Long buried—suppressed even—from herself to avoid feeling that grief and loss. She had done so well to avoid it for over three decades.

Him. Her.

It was still as raw and sharp as before… but Alma tried to keep herself from crumbling. Not out here. Not with the Zeswa about; they wouldn’t understand her conflicts.

But what if Harding was right? She never had an autopsy done on her to see at the time. Alma had been sick when she had been in recovery from the delivery, labour had not been smooth and the baby had gotten stuck given she had become breech and they hadn’t been able to turn her. A C-section had been required when her health took a very serious decline.

The scar being the only reminder now on her human body of her pain and loss. She hated it the most on this body, why she hated looking down at her naked form in the shower. The avatar never had that scar nor the history or the grief that came with it; her escape and new reality.

While it was easy to kill a baby and not leave a mark on bones, traces of the development was affected would show on the bones. Alma could only imagine it was through tampered food that could have affected her pregnancy. Perhaps long-term? She needed those bones to see; to confirm…

“<You sit alone outside the safety of your metal ship?>”

Alma stiffened up in surprise, her head turned sharply to see Minang of all Na’vi crouching down beside her, looking a little high-nosed but otherwise seemingly content to be here.

“<I got into a…disagreement with the rider.>” Alma stated, her heart fluttering nervously at the sheer size difference, pulling her injured arm more out of sight. Even if she knew Minang wasn’t going to hurt her. “<It was too awkward to wait inside.>”

“<So’lek informed us of what was shared. I came with…questions myself that he couldn’t answer. He said you left abruptly with hurt feelings.>”

“<What questions did you have?>”

“<Dreamwalkers, how long do they take to grow and birth?>”

Ah, made sense they’d want to know that. They had only ever dealt with them after the fact, not the waiting game. “The avatars are typically grown on the way to Pandora, which is about six years on board. It depends on when Harding applied for the program. If she applied for it on the way, then the Dreamwalker body is more or less grown by this point. If the RDA wait until death is confirmed to put the avatar into full gestation, then it could take as little as three years for them to produce her Dreamwalker. They’ll use a more aggressive growth supplement when on site than those grown on route.>”

“<How much will this Dreamwalker have of the Harding we have?>”

“<If she had what scan they did to preserve the mind before she left for the West Frontier, then she wouldn’t have any recollection of the Zeswa clan or poaching or black-market schemes. She’ll retain her personality and memories up until that point.>” She knew Harding hadn’t poached prior to her second arrival so it was certainly going to be an interesting file for the Recom to read.

“<Maybe this Dreamwalker will learn from her true self and stay away,>” Minang remarked, “<But we will keep our eyes out regardless for all the children of Eywa.>”

Alma hummed airily.

For a moment, there was silence but Alma stared ahead, swallowing thickly as the distant Ikran were dancing about, snapping at each other in either a piss-fight or play. Honestly, very much like the Zeswa dance fighters.

“<So’lek didn’t mention you were unwell. I can sense a shadow behind you that our elders or sick often feel before they return to Eywa.>” Minang stated, her brow creasing. “<He mentioned Harding threatened you as you left.>”

“<She wasn’t.>” Alma shook her head. “<I’m dying. Harding knew that.>”

Minang’s eyes turned to her slowly. “<How?>”

“<My Dreamwalker died. It’s well known in the RDA that a dead avatar condemns its driver to a similar fate if they’re connected at the time of its death.>” Alma let out a shaky breath. “<I haven’t told a lot of people, So’lek included. It’s not something I want to advertise. I’d rather go quietly.>”

Minang’s head tilted but nodded once. Of course, she understood the notion of that all too well. The Zeswa’s way of death, their tradition was to talk away and not return; to lighten the burden of loss on the family and the clan. She could trust in telling Minang and trust she would not spread it around.

Hopefully.

Alma didn’t talk when they journeyed back to Resistance Base. Ignoring both So’lek and Anqa and was first out and into the base before either of them. Her steps took her typically back to the medical bay in search of Nalin.

The bay looked busy and Nalin looked to be occupied so Alma skirted out and back to the bunks which were occupied but most people looked to be either asleep or having downtime. Her bag was still there so she grabbed that and headed back to the office away from everyone.

Thankfully, it was empty so Alma took her place at the desk, set her bag down and stared at it for a long moment. Her heart fluttered in her chest a little at what this had; what she had kept hidden away in it. A small thing really.

A thumb drive.

It was still in there, small in her palm and it carried a weight in her lungs as she properly turned it in her fingers. Personal files from so long ago. Buried. Kept locked away from even her own tablets to keep the memories away but was unwilling to delete them entirely.

Her hands shook as she pushed it into the USB hub and tapped along the screen, her heart in her mouth as she accessed the data and a few pictures popped up.

The science team photographs, Her, Mercer, Michael and her fellow colleagues. She stood more off to the side, Michael’s arm around her.

Another was simply of her and Michael again, much later down the line, a personal photo rather than a work one. Alma distantly remembered him setting down the camera on a timer, pulling her around from her desk with hands on her belly. It had made her laugh at the time. They had been…happy. Despite the blood on their hand, despite their line of work; they had wanted to make it work and not just for the baby either.

An ultrasound scan, or a few was also part of her collection. A 3D scan of a little, sleepy face with her thumb in her mouth. However, on the scan, it showed she had had a complete unilateral cleft lip and pallet. Nothing that couldn’t be repaired with a little bit of surgery after birth. It hadn’t mattered to her because she was beautiful.

It gave Alma pause now just…wondering if the cleft lip was a sign of a tampered pregnancy. Long-term tampering could have caused deformities beyond what she had seen here; the cleft lip was common in humans and Michael’s father had it. She had just assumed it was genetic.

What if it wasn’t?

Her nails clinked in a soft echo as she moved through her files, going forward to the scans prior to that fateful one. Then… after. A little photo of the newborn, asleep if you didn’t know any better. Light skin that would have darkened up out of the womb, fluffy dark curls that were still stuck to her head. Lay wrapped in a little pink and white knitted blanket.

Her heart ached for the loss, yet she yearned to hold her still. She had forgotten the ache. The pain… knowing she couldn’t get to raise her. Couldn’t even birth her alive. She thought she had done something wrong in those last few days. Mercer had said she hadn’t looked after herself well enough. That she had done this to herself. To her baby.

Alma had believed him.

It felt foolish of her to think that now. Natural Stillbirths were never the fault of the mother. If Michael had been alive at her bedside at the time, he certainly wouldn’t have blamed her for it. But he wasn’t. She had been alone.

All she had after that were the Kids. Life in TAP was all she had to think about. It kept her own pain away and gave her new attachments. New focus.

A new life, so to speak.

“Cortez, you busy?”

Alma didn’t move or change the picture swiftly though her eyes slid to see Alex poking his head around the door frame.

“No.” her voice was low but curt, her throat felt thick but she could speak enough to carry across the room.

She shifted as he drifted in and she didn’t meet his eye as he looked at the image with a question in his eyes.

“I’ve…got the plans for the baghouse filters all set and the Aranahe had provided the first patches of piping for at least three machines. I plan to get a team together once we’re recovered to the Moot site to take the barrels back to the TAP facility.” Alex stated, going back to business despite his lingering look. “Your…suggestion seems the best viable one since Kìoetey assured me that the building can be sealed off from the environment.”

Alma nodded. “Are you going to use chemical treatments still?”

“Kìoetey mentioned water sources being contaminated. I want to drain the contaminated pond water and treat it separately. We can return the water to nature when it’s at a safe level to do so.” Alex explained before his eyes returned to the screen. “Who’s that?”

Alma’s throat tightened a little. “My daughter, Amanda.”

Alex’s head tilted. “I didn’t know you had a kid.” He sounded generally surprised as he leaned down to see the image more closely.

“I don’t.”

Alex’s posture stiffened up as the realisation seemed to hit him. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry, Cortez.”

Alma didn’t look at him but nodded. “She…passed a long time ago. I don’t know why I opened this can of worms.” She closed the pictures swiftly. “Harding was just…getting under my skin.”

“Harding?”

“It’s nothing. She…implicated her death wasn’t natural like I believed.” Alma went to tug the drive out when Alex’s hand came to her wrist, soft and gentle.

“Anything I can do?”

“Unless you can dig up her bones and bring them to me to test, not really.” Alma shook her head, regretting the thumping pain the motion brought thought from the background. “Anqa turned me down when I asked so… I guess I’ll never know.”

“Where…where did you bury her?”

“Outside the TAP school. I found this…little spot above a little stream beside a Night Leaf tree. I scored the bark with a cross simple as a grave marker.” Alma explained. “In case I ever wanted to go back. I didn’t want to bury them there but… it was the best I had at the time. I didn’t want to leave them at TAP-Con 1 like the others. Never brought myself to move them before, even when we went back for the kids. I…forgot.” She felt guilt surface at that. Forgetting.

“You focused on the living.” Alex reminded, “There’s no disrespect on prioritising the kids that were inside.”

Alma let out a shaky breath. “I suppose.” She shook her head. “Sorry, this isn’t why you’re here. Let me help with what’s important here.” She pulled the thumb drive out of the hub and shoved it back into her bag for now and reached for his tablet.

Kìoetey crouched carefully as she scoured through the foliage. An unexpected request from Alex but she had been glad to do something else. The sun was low in the early afternoon now and her present for Teylan was almost done but she was lacking a few things to complete it. She wanted more inspiration as well as ideas to help pass on to Teylan.

Returning to the Kinglor forest was still pleasant, so close to the TAP school…not as much. Alex had said she didn’t have to go if she was too uncomfortable but… she didn’t see why not. The trip was still wonderful and beautiful. Tapering away the… shifting weight of the last few hours had handed to her now that Mercer was dead.

Truly.

Freedom was truly theirs now. She didn’t have to worry about him ever again…or Harding for that matter. It still was nice to feel useful, even with the uncomfortable proximity to the school. But Alex had asked and she could feel it would mean a lot to him to do this for him.

She could do that.

“Little stream, Night-leaf tree…” She muttered to herself, trying to look for those features. Coordinates would have been nice but… who knew what she was looking for that was buried here.

It took about two more minutes before she found signs of a stream, dried up now, more or less but the terrain showed its little pathway that weaved through up so Kìoetey followed it curiously. Then the tree came to sight, five feet from the stream used to be so she headed toward it and knelt down. Her fingers touched the bark, bushing past the moss closer to its roots before the… healed markings of what Alex described showed up. A vertical line down, a shorter horizontal line across near its top.

She was at the right spot. Good. But the healing looked old. Something had been buried here for a long time. Would it still be here?

Kìoetey set the bag she was given off and gently began to remove the top foliage that had long taken over. The soil was matted with moister as she began to remove slowly from the roots, not too close to the tree but enough that looked suitably distanced for the burial of an item. It took five minutes of careful removal before she felt her fingers skim something hard. Her heart leapt a little as she turned her focus to that, shifting the soil until she had…unearthed a small, metal box.

Rusted, about the same size of a spare-box container and looked more like a personal belongings box. It was hard to make out what it was, even as she lifted it from the dirt. The case looked to be warped and dented with a few holes as well. There was ratting inside. A lot of ratting and a metal ting as well. There was weight to it, surprisingly. A part of her felt tempted to open it; to peek at what was inside that was so important but…her gut seemed to twist at the thought. No. This wasn’t hers to open. Alex would want to open it himself.

Masterlist

#avatar #avatar au #avatar james cameron #avatar frontiers of pandora #so'lek frontiers of pandora #frontiers of pandora #alma cortez #minang #zeswa clan #sarentu #ri'nela #teylan #nor #john mercer #priya chen #nesim

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