chapter four
Chapter Four
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When you arrived to the meeting spot, Ame had broken off from her pod and swam over to greet you. You’d jumped in to swim next to her without hesitation, grabbing onto her fin as she led you some ways away. Together, you floated in the open water for a little.
The pod was further way now, having gradually swam further and further from the Rig. Pretty soon they’d be close to the Metkayina. Too close for Ame to swim back and forth to see you. You and her hadn’t talked about that much, and you dreaded the idea of her going away—even if you knew it was inevitable.
“So, what was it you wanted to show me?” you finally asked, once it became clear she wasn’t going to bring it up.
Ame shifted in the water, bobbing up in down, as though she was nervous. Tsaheylu, she finally said.
You blinked with surprise. You knew about the bond, what the purpose of the neural queue was —but you’d never made it before.
You swallowed. “You want to make tsaheylu, with me?”
Yes. Her answer came quickly, certainly. Ame had given this some thought, you realized. Warmth flooded your chest, affection for her so strong you felt like you might suffocate with it.
“I would like that very much, Ame,” you told her, hand reaching out to gently touch her face.
Slowly, she opened her mouth. Tulkun anatomy was something of a mystery, but with their intelligence—and based on what you knew about Pandora’s other intelligent life, it would make sense that they would have one neural queue, and that it would be protected in some capacity. And you trusted Ame.
You swam inside, and even as she closed her mouth, revealing her queue, you didn’t feel nervous. This was the most sure about something you’d ever been. You made the connection.
Ame’s thoughts flooded you. It was overwhelming, her memories drifting by as though they were your own. You’d spoken with her for weeks, becoming a close friend and confidant—it felt shallow compared to this. You knew Ame’s inner most thoughts and feelings. You knew that she desperately wanted a calf, you could feel her longing. She desired motherhood, but had her to find a suitable mate. You saw her choice to save you from drowning, how she and the other tulkun had hesitated briefly, before she decided to do it, believing all life is sacred.
Ame’s kindness, her wittiness, everything that made Ame herself filled you up. And you loved her. It was impossible to truly hate the half that made you a whole.
When you broke the bond and swam to the surface to catch your breath, you slide onto her fin—resting your head against her.
When you’d first started learning Na’vi, the language and culture, you had objectively understood what they meant by seeing someone. Your professors had tried to impart how important it was, and that it wasn’t necessarily literal. You saw a person, saw who they were and recognized them for everything they were.
You’d understood and thought it was a kind sentiment. Now, sitting there with Ame, you felt you had never really understood the phrase before now.
“I see you,” you said finally. “I see you, Ame.”
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Very little changed. Your understanding of Ame had grown, you knew her so intimately and effortlessly, her words came easier and her body language did too. She told you about the tattoos on her belly, that they told the story of her life—of her journey to be a teacher. The pod was more welcoming to you, previously having been standoffish and distant, you found yourself being greeted kindly. As Ame’s spirit sister.
The tulkun saw you, and recognized you as one of them. You had never felt so apart of something in your life.
Felix remained firm in his opinion that you should write about the tulkun, detail what you knew and spread this information. People would respect them, he insisted.
Ame did not think so. Humans fear what they don’t understand.
“I’m human,” you whispered to her.
No, disagreed Ame. You are my spirit sister. It is different.
You trusted Felix, respected him—and he’d grown to be a close friend. But Ame was your sister. She had seen your soul, all your thoughts, all your feelings. The good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, and she loved you for it anyway. You did not think Felix would care for you the same.
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Claire weaseled her way on your next outing. Ava was put on a different rotation, and you sulked the entire time. Dr. Yates was coming too, something that had grated on Felix’s enough that he was actually complaining about it.
You weren’t certain how Claire had managed it, but she’s actually ended up on Yates’ good side. The woman was prickly on a good day.
Speak of the devil. You smacked Felix’s arm to get him to shut up, turning to the director of aquatic sciences.
“Hello, Dr. Yates,” you greeted politely.
She squinted at you, silent for a few moments. “Your the algae girl,” she said, mostly to herself, clearly trying to remember your name. That was fine with you, better to fly under the radar with her.
“Why are you here?” she snapped. “Felix has been rambling about this fault for days, I don’t see what algae has to do with it.”
Your mind blanked. Originally, Felix had planned on asking Ame to help him down to the fault again. You had hesitated once it became clear that Claire and Yates were coming.
“Uh,” you said intelligently.
Felix swooped in, saving you from making a complete fool out of yourself. “Hana spends a lot of time in the water collecting algae samples. There’s a tulkun pod nearby, and she’s interacted with them the most.”
He might not have agreed with your silence on tulkun intelligence, but Felix was a reliable friend.
Yates’ eyes brightened considerably. “Tulkun? They aren’t hostile at all?”
That was certainly one way of putting it. You cleared your throat. “No, they are very gentle. But they react better when someone they are familiar with is nearby. Since the tulkun saved me from drowning, they’ve been almost friendly.”
“Fascinating,” breathed Yates. “Tell me about them, you said they are a pod. Do they have clear family units? Do you know if the father assists in raising the calf?”
You exhale slowly, taking Felix’s offered hand to get on the boat easier. It was going to be a long day.
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