chapter thirty-nine
Chapter Thirty-Nine
You’d be gone a week, if that even. Claire and Yates needed supplies for their little base. You were tagging along to meet with Jake. On a surface level, your trip was more diplomatic in nature. The Omaticaya and the Metkayina could be friends—more then just tentative allies during a war if played right. You had a duty to your people to foster this relationship as necessary.
In reality, you knew enough about Jake to know that any Metkayina would be welcome to the Omaticaya. You just really wanted to see Kiri.
Grace was a friend. A tentative one, but one you’d respected. Last you saw her, you were pregnant with Ko’oä.
You missed Ame fiercely, and neither of you had left yet.
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Grace wasn’t my friend the way Felix was.”
That does not mean she was not your friend at all, said Ame. You should see her daughter.
“Should I?” you wondered. You wanted too, you really did. There was a part of you though, small part of you that worried your motives were just a little too selfish. You cared about this baby because she was your friend’s daughter.
Hana, said Ame. You will always wonder if you do not go.
She was right. Tonowari had said something similar. Both of them were right. Infuriatingly right. You kind of wished they weren’t, that you could talk yourself out of it and not regret it. The Samson would leave in the morning, with or without you.
You didn’t want to leave Awa’altu. You didn’t want to leave your family. Your home. And yet. , there it was. The same itch in your chest that had convinced you to go to Pandora was there, coiling somewhere inside of you and threatening to consume you if you didn’t give in and chase it.
There was a part of you, and you weren’t sure how big it was—that was afraid you’d want to do that again. Leave and never come back.
“What is wrong?” Tonowari asked. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Ao’nung was playing with his hair, supported by one arm.
You frowned a little, eyes focused on Ko’oä stumbling across the marui. You hesitated, searching for the right words. The words that wouldn’t upset anyone, but that still explained it.
“I’m nervous,” you said. Ronal’s eyes fell on you.
“You do not have to see her,” said Ronal. “Or is it not the baby?”
You shrugged a little. “I want to see her,” you said, before admitting, “I want to see it all.”
“I should not be surprised,” said Ronal. “You are a voyager.”
You blinked. A voyager. You… hadn’t really thought of it like that. Tonowari hadn’t either, judging by the expression on his face. Ronal looked between you both.
“Do not be foolish,” she said. “Hana traveled the stars—the urge to explore is strong in her.”
It was a romantic way of phrasing it. You were a voyager. They seemed to love that about you.
.
Kiri was tiny. Smaller then Ao’nung had been, Ko’oä too. Your baby was more of a toddler though, and Ao’nung was rolling over by himself. Kiri blinked slowly, her amber eyes large. You missed your babies—your family fiercely.
“She looks like Grace,” you said finally. Jake was watching you, fidgeting almost nervously. Neytiri was decidedly more relaxed at the sight of you holding her infant child. You didn’t know if it was because of your own children, or if she was simply more sure of you then Jake was.
“Yeah,” he agreed, a little awkwardly. His Na’vi needed work still.
“Why haven’t you done a DNA test?” you asked in English.
“Na’vi genetics aren’t that simple,” said Norm. You rolled your eyes.
“So you aren’t even trying to figure out if she’s the result of spontaneous asexual reproduction? The Na’vi don’t reproduce asexually, and neither do humans. If Kiri really is the result of asexual reproduction, she’s a clone. I think we owe it to her to figure it out.”
“Neytiri doesn’t want to know,” Jake admitted.
You frowned. “Why?”
“She’s afraid if Kiri’s father is alive he’ll want her,” said Jake.
You doubted that, somehow. If Grace had mated with someone, they’d express an interest in the baby. The alternative was that Kiri’s father was dead. You thought they should know, for Kiri. She’d be curious. She’d want to know eventually.
Kids wanted to know their parents. You didn’t press, instead focusing on the baby in your arms. She was a quiet little thing. Kiri sighed, and you smiled at her. Humming a song.
.
A childish giggle startled you, and you glanced down at the sound. A beaming, pale face stared back at you—blonde, curly hair and wide blue eyes, button nose. You grinned back, squatting to better interact with the toddler.
You were reminded of Ko’oä’s sweet face. You brushed a curl from his eyes, and greeted him, “Hello, who are you?”
He giggled, holding out his arms. You picked him up carefully.
“That’s Spider,” explained Norm. He looked wary. You glanced at him, but didn’t ask. “He was too young to be put in cryo, so he’s stuck here.”
You frowned a little. “Where is his mother?”
“Dead,” said Norm.
You swallowed. He was just a baby. The same age as Ko’oä.
“Hello Spider,” you said. Spider’s chubby little fingers surged forward, latching onto your hearing aid. You twitched as he yanked it out of your ear, wincing in pain. Carefully, you set to work detangling the baby from the device.
You managed to extract it from his grasp without much fuss, and were able to insert the hearing aid quickly. Norm was looking at you.
“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Never see a woman with a baby before?”
Norm gave an awkward grin, turning away, he muttered, “Never seen Spider with a mother before.”
.
“His name is Spider,” you said. Through the screen, Ronal’s eyes were intense. Tonowari was absent, stuck attending a clan matter.
“He is alone?” she asked slowly.
“Yes,” you said. “They don’t… care. Nobody here does.” Spider fidgeted in your arms, twisting around to look at you.
Ronal scowled. “He is a child. Humans care for their children as Na’vi do.”
“Not all the time,” you said. “He… he can’t be ours, but it’s better then here. I’d look after him.”
“He needs a mother,” she said. “A father. A family. Hana, you know—“
“I know,” you said. “I know we can’t be that for him.”
“I did not say this,” she said, scowling.
“No,” you agreed. “I think it. We don’t have the resources to care for him. He would never be able to be one of us the way he should. But we can… be there.”
Spider was looking at you, his eyes wide and he stared at you. You grinned at him, pulling his face toward yours, you blew raspberries in his neck. He shrieked in joy. Ronal watched, her eyes soft.
“Where would he stay?” she asked finally.
“Claire would take him,” you said. It would be good, you thought. Claire was… really good with kids. You hadn’t expected it, but she was good with them. She liked them. And she had a human body to go back too. You didn’t, not anymore. Besides, your babies needed you. “She comes back to Hell’s Gate enough that Spider would have plenty of interaction with humans too. He would grow up away from the people who’ve had the worst experiences with humans.”
The Omaticaya had their home destroyed. Awa’altu stood firm.
Spider wouldn’t be hated. Not the same way he would be here. You weren’t stupid enough to think his life would be easy, but you wouldn’t lie and say that you couldn’t make it better by ensuring he was welcomed. And, there was a small part of you that wanted Ko’oä and Ao’nung to be around humans. To see what you were once and it not be seen as a bad thing.
You wondered if Jake wanted that for Neteyam and Kiri.
“Claire will be a good mother,” said Ronal. And that was that.