David and Goliath

"Listen pal. I know you're probably still pissed at me, but this is only going to take longer if you keep squirming."

Gritting his teeth, and not only at Tan Jala's lack of response, Corporal "Able" Ryder continued the tried and tested practice of giving someone a band-aid after shooting them up. He didn't know why he was doing this, why he was taking the time to patch up a single blue monkey who only minutes ago had wanted to bash his brains out. He didn't know why he was giving the Tipani warrior special treatment after killing dozens of his fellow tribespeople in this clusterfuck of a war Falco had got them into. All he knew was that he had some time to spare after retrieving the third harmonic required to find the Well of Souls and that he was willing to use it to save a life rather than take it.

Shame that the giant Neanderthal couldn't appreciate that...

"Okay, I'm no medic..." said the signals specialist in another effort to initiate conversation. "But assuming that your biology is similar to ours, I doubt you'll have any lasting injuries."

Ignoring Tan Jala's wince of pain, the corporal drew out the last of the CARB rounds that had pierced the savage's skin, promptly adding it to the pile that he'd been slowly adding to over the last few minutes. While he'd managed to hit the Tipani enough times to cripple him, none of the shots in themselves would have been fatal, apart from the nasty process of bleeding to death.

And why didn't I do that? Ryder wondered, reflecting on how effective the na'vi arrows had been against his fellow grunts, how he wasn't aware of a single human going through the process of having an arrow removed and living. Why am I even still here and not on my way back to-...

"The swizav...they are all out?"

Ryder blinked, and not only because he had no idea what "swizav" meant. He'd long given hope of Tan Jala extending him the courtesy of speech when he still had his Avatar, but now, after completing his work, the Tipani seemed to once again be extending a palm rather than a fist.

"The bullets?" asked the signal specialist cautiously, watching as the na'vi rose to his feet. "Yeah, they're out. You won't have any neurotoxin to worry about either."

"And nor will you."

Cautiously, Ryder brought one hand to his holstered Wasp revolver, grasping the harmonic with his other. He hadn't been stupid enough to leave Tan Jala's weapons nearby, but in hindsight, he should have anticipated a far faster recovery time. At such close proximity, it would be a simple matter for the na'vi to shoot forward, break his neck and toss his body to the upper branches of a tree without a second thought.

"Is that a threat?" the corporal asked cautiously, beginning to ask with far more urgency why he'd even bothered playing the Good Samaritan.

"No, merely a...fact," responded the savage. "Your bodies...they are frail, so frail that there is no need to dip our swizav in txum." His gaze narrowed. "Perhaps that is why you kill so well. Life so easily snuffed out must be part of your madness."

"Keep talking you Neanderthal and you'll see how mad I can be."

Tan Jala gave Ryder a grin akin to one of the few shark species not extinct. Damnit, here was a stone age blue...space elf who couldn't even speak English properly and yet he was able to rile him up even better than Dr. Augustine had been able to. He hadn't expected Tan Jala to be grateful in regards to him saving his life, but he hadn't expected such a personality to present itself...not so soon at least. And coupled with such a rapid physical recovery, it was tempting to simply shoot the blue monkey again and make sure he finished the job this time.

Still, in the end, Ryder couldn't be bothered. He was dirty, tired and wanted to get back to a Samson as soon as possible and get a few hours sleep before being sent to the next hellhole on this moon. He'd done his charitable act for today, so now he was ready to go back to the role of bloodhound.

"Listen, I'm sure that if my society hadn't made any progress over the last fifty thousand years, I could take the time to engage in quibbage," Ryder grunted, beginning to walk away and not caring if Tan Jala followed. "But unlike you, I have a job to do and-..."

"Why?"

Turning around, the corporal once again came face to face (or rather face to waist, height differences considered) to the warrior. And when it came to actually looking up at the Tipani's face, it was an expression he wasn't expecting...one of puzzlement.

"I know your motives in this," Tan Jala began, starting to pace around as he did so. "What your commander hopes to achieve. But until now, after your attack on us, I believed there was nothing left to understand about your kind. But now, with no motive I can think of, you have helped me. And before you return to destruction, I would like to know why."

The na'vi's puzzled expression was matched by a human one. He hadn't expected Tan Jala to ask the same question that part of his mind had been asking ever since he took on the role of a medic, a question related as to why he was still serving a man who was the living embodiment of "might makes right." Indeed, it was becoming hard to draw the line as to where Falco's thoughts ended and his own began. Savage, Neanderthal, blue monkey...he hadn't thought Tan Jala like that at all when they first met at Blue Lagoon. So why was he thinking these things now?

Maybe the eggheads are right. Maybe Pandora does have the answers...

"I don't know why," began the corporal, not taking his eyes off the na'vi in front of him. "It's just...well, I dunno, me defeating you, it seemed like a David and Goliath scenario."

"Daveed and who?"

Ryder snorted...a rarity, nowadays. Trudy could crack wise, but on the Samson flights, he was always too tired to listen properly.

"David and Goliath. It's a...old Sky People story..." began the merc slowly, beginning to feel at ease in the company of tall, blue and kind of ugly. "Can't remember all the details but-..."

"Tell me."

It was hard to tell if Tan Jala was giving an order or a request. It was a blunt statement, true, but him sitting down and finally bringing the two species into eye contact was a step in the opposite direction of establishing authority. Either way, Ryder was willing to engage in storytelling. He'd dealt with harsh reality over the past week, so engaging in fantasy might allow him a breather in more ways than one.

"David and Goliath..." began the corporal, beginning to mimic Tan Jala's pacing. "Can't say there's a moral in it, but...well...anyway, our encounter, this conflict, seems reminiscent of it. I mean, here you are, a giant among us, and yet I, the little guy, took you down."

Tan Jala winced. Clearly that was still on his mind.

"On the other hand, you could just as easily call the RDA Goliath," continued the signals specialist, beginning to feel some guilt over that. "I mean, we're pounding you guys out there, yet like David, you stand up to us."

"And how did it end?"

Ryder sighed. He knew the answer, but he wasn't sure if he liked it. Somehow it didn't bode well for SecOps' chances, even if he had repeated history by himself.

"David and Goliath met in battle," the corporal began, wondering why he could remember this stuff so well. "Goliath was tall, strong, powerful and definitely the guy you'd bet on in a fight. Thing was, David, the little shrimp, managed to take him out with a single blow to the head from a sling."

"I see..." said the na'vi, deep in thought. "And you saw yourself as David in our encounter?"

"Well, kind of..." shrugged the merc. "I mean, David subsequently went on to...well, cut off Goliath's head and declare his allegiance to some guy who probably doesn't even exist. I mean, he could have left him there, but he had to go the full way and..."

Ryder trailed off, his own words making him uncomfortable. Was his own situation really any different? Falco was playing God, wanting to take control of what some believed was a real deity, and like David, he was simply following his will. Not that he'd decapitated anyone yet, but still, while technology changed, results didn't.

Harper was right...the RDA is just using me. Or at least Falco is...

The corporal shook it off. Maybe a week ago, such thoughts could have stopped this whole thing blowing over. But now, with the RDA and na'vi in a foot race for the harmonics, it was too little too late to question the status quo. All that could be done was get to the Well of Souls, end the war and hopefully do it with as few deaths as possible.

"I should go," Ryder declared, turning away from Tan Jala abruptly. "Can't say I'll see you again, but-..."

"Leave if you must tawtute," Tan Jala interrupted. "But for what it's worth, I do not think you are like Daveed."

"Huh?"

Once more facing the sa...no, na'vi, Ryder saw that Tan Jala was once again standing tall. Unlike last time however, he didn't feel threatened by it.

"The Sky Person in your story..." began the Tipani. "He defeated Goliath, but he did so without second thought, without mercy. You however, did think. You did otherwise, gave an enemy mercy, granting it even when it might have gone against your own guiding spirit. You are not like him at all. And for that I thank you."

And with that he turned and left.

Ryder blinked. Not long ago he'd been fighting for his life against the Tipani warrior, and now the same warrior was thanking him? Either not enough oxygen was getting through his exopack or maybe...just maybe...

One step at a time pal.

Heading back to the Samson site, for the first time in a week, "Able" Ryder felt what Pandora had found amongst all the ills of the box she opened...

...hope.

A/N

There's an inherant problem with going by the path of the RDA, yet helping the na'vi at the end in the Xbox 360/PS3 game, said problem being Tan Jala showing up after killing him in Grave's Bog. That's movie games for you, even when they rise above the norm for their kind to an extent. Anyway, came up with a "what if?" scenario to explain it, though this being a oneshot, I'd hardly call it "personal canon."