Chapter 4

Ken looked at the monitor that determined how healthy he was. It was connected to his suit, which was constantly monitoring his health. If something bad happened, he would know.

The only problem at current was his brain, which was scrambled heavily to account for the sudden influx of information. They were steadily calming down, so the risk of seizures was relatively low.

After making sure that his body was doing fine, Ken took his suit off and ripped the synthetic queue off. He threw the biological part into the incinerator, while the metal went into the recycler.

His communique went off. Odd, he thought. It's never gone off before.

Ken answered it. The screen showed the face of Dr. Norm Spellman.

"Hey, there," the biologist greeted. "How you holding up?"

"A little fatigue and a minor headache," Ken replied, "but so far, no seizures."

"Excellent. Anyway, a few of the scientists over here, myself included, want to formally meet you and your friends."

Ken smiled lightly, but internally, he was unsure. The thanators only ever knew him, and they tolerated Norm and Trace for a bit. Extended or close-up exposure might make them nervous.

"It would be an... interesting experience," Ken said, "but I'm worried for the thanators as much as I am worried for you. Besides, I'm pretty sure that Trace doesn't even like me."

"She's just jealous," Norm replied. "Thanators are her favorite creatures on Pandora. But, if you don't want to come, that's fine."

Ken rubbed his temples to try and shove the headache away so he could think. He sighed in mild annoyance.

"I'll probably stop by when I'm back to normal," he said.

"OK, then. We look forward to meeting you, thanator-whisperer."

Ken couldn't help but smile as the communique disconnected. He leaned back and stretched his tired spine.

He turned his head to the camera where the Na'vi Outcast was. The Cinsin was awake and had eaten the food he had given him.

"I can't keep him here," Ken said. He opened the door to the room remotely, giving the Na'vi an opportunity to leave. After peeking out cautiously, the Outcast walked away, clutching his side in pain.

Ken sighed and turned to his suit. Before, he didn't really care what it looked like. As long as it got the job done, he was happy with it.

Now, he wanted to change it. Make it as good as he can. Make it reflect his personality.

Ken smiled again when he remembered the nickname that Spellman had given him.

"Well, if I am to be the thanator-whisperer," he said, "I might as well look the part."

Immediately, he went to work. Painting it. Adding to it. Adjusting it.

When he was done, it looked like the suit of a thanator-whisperer. It was painted mostly black, with white paint drawn on the helmet to resemble teeth. The faceplate had two hooked appendages that resembled fangs, acting as defense mechanisms in case of close-quarters fighting. The metal flaps that he used to command the thanators were rearranged to parallel the thanator's frills, and could open up to reveal tiny dart guns that could shoot venom into their targets.

"Badass," Ken said, praising himself. He put the suit on and walked out to show it to his friends.

Telemachus was the first to approach, sensing the fresh paint and seeing the resemblance between the suit and himself. Odysseus came next and tackled Ken to the ground, while Calypso growled at him to try and get him to behave.

As Ken was playing with Odysseus, he noticed that he was more resistant to the amount of stress that the thanator was putting on him. The strength and sheer mass of Odysseus was no problem for him, and Ken could actually put up a decent counterattack against him.

Finally, Calypso got her brother off of him. Ken laughed, as Calypso, despite being smaller than Odysseus, was angrily scolding her younger brother for hogging Ken.

Then came Circe, the regal mother who huffed at her children to quiet them. Circe never ceased to amaze Ken, even though they had known each other for two years. Ken stood up and held his hand out to Circe, who pressed her muzzle against it.

Ken could hear gasps from the nearby bushes. He turned to face the bushes as his metal flaps raised to denote his surprise. Circe and her children did the same, and squinted to see what was in the bushes.

It was a group of Na'vi. Ken could tell, from the paint on their faces, that they were not from Jake Sully's tribe. They were from the Anurai Clan, the clan that worshiped the thanators.

Circe growled, and her offspring's muscles tensed up to attack. Ken immediately told them to stand down, and they retreated a short ways, still keeping their eyes on the Na'vi.

Ken retracted his helmet and held his hand out, trying to be friendly. A younger Na'vi, possibly a teenager, came out slowly. Her friends were less courageous and stayed behind.

"Can you understand what I say?" Ken asked.

"Yes," the Na'vi girl replied. "We learned to speak your language with Grace."

"But you're not Omaticaya," Ken noted.

"Grace traveled a lot and taught a lot of us."

"I see." Behind him, Circe slowly inched up to them to make sure the Na'vi didn't try anything.

"Can I ask your name?" Ken asked.

"Jirmaya," she replied.

"I'm Ken."