"I hope you know you're fucking crazy, Dr Manitowabi," commented the link technician.

The woman he was talking to was in her early forties, the stamp of her Native American ancestors evident in her black plaited hair and the harsh lines of her face. "If I told you once, Sam, I've told you a million times to call me by my first name," said Janelle Manitowabi, rolling her eyes despairingly. "After all, we have been fucking for two months."

Sam looked furtively around the link room to see if anyone was listening to their muted conversation. "You know Grace doesn't approve of relationships between technical staff and the researchers," he hissed, blushing bright red. Sam reflected it was just as well the soft blue light in the link room, chosen by Grace Augustine for its likeness to the night-time glow of Polyphemus, did not show up red very well.

Janelle raised an affectionate hand to caress the strong line of Sam's jaw. "You are such a sweet boy," she teased softly. "And a great fuck as well," added Janelle crudely, making his face go an even brighter shade of red.

"Janelle!" he snapped. "Stop it!"

She smiled at him, her face softening to show that she was indeed an attractive woman, even if she was twelve years older than her lover. "So why am I crazy?" asked Janelle curiously.

"Look," said Sam. "I get the fascination for xeno-zoology, and your work on rehabilitating large predator species into their original habitats was outstanding." He was right – Janelle's part in successfully reintroducing the gray wolf into what was left of the Canadian wilderness was ground-breaking – until they were wiped out by a mutated canine distemper virus. "But why the hell did you choose to study thanators?"

This was not the first time that Sam had asked her this question.

"If we want to understand the ecosystem of the Pandoran rainforest," replied Janelle, not unreasonably, "We have to know everything about its peak predator."

"But you don't even take an armed escort," he objected. The statistics showed that it was an even money bet that the driver would die when her Avatar died. And hers wouldn't be the first to be killed by a thanator.

"The jarheads make so much noise any of the major predators would get us all with a serious case of dead," retorted Janelle. She sighed. Sam was getting all male and protective. Never mind that her father was one of the last of the People living by the old wilderness traditions, and had raised her by those same traditions, despite the objections of her mother that she was a girl. Janelle had been tracking and stalking game since she was a child, and well knew how to take care in the Pandoran forest. Not to mention the past three years she had spent studying the thanators. Even Grace had recognised her abilities, and had given her a pass to go out without minders.

"I don't like it," muttered Sam stubbornly.

"You don't have to, city boy," snapped Janelle. "Start up the link. The Wet will start in a day or two, and I won't be able to get out in the field for at least two weeks once the rain starts. Every minute counts."

Sam glared at her angrily, and started up link chamber seven, the soft hum of the brain activity imager entering her ears.

Janelle sighed as she slid into the chamber and pulled it shut. Her damned temper was getting in the way in yet another of her failed relationships. No doubt Sam would get tired of her flare-ups like every other man she had ever dated, and it looked like it would be sooner rather than later. She was not given any time to have any more thoughts before her awareness plunged down the tunnel of light.

Awakening in her Avatar body was not like waking from sleep at all. It was more like diving into a pool of icy cold water, every sense shockingly acute. Everything was more vivid – sight, sound, smell and taste. So much so that Janelle spent every available second linked to her Avatar, running her link time right up to the maximum allowed – and sometimes over. Grace had warned on too many occasions that she was in danger of losing herself. Not that Grace was one to follow her own rules. Just look at how much time she spent at the Omaticaya school.

It was for that reason that Janelle had started the affair with Sam, to anchor herself in her human life. Not that he wasn't a sweet boy, and fun in the sack as well.

Her gear was right by her bed, just where it should be. Janelle swung her feet onto the smooth wooden boards and speedily dressed. Unlike most of the Avatars, she eschewed boots, reasoning that they made far too much noise. If the forest was like that of her childhood, she would have worn moccasins to keep her feet warm, but here it was just too damned hot. All she wore were some shorts and a crop top for modesty – and that was only to stop the leering of the grunts. If it hadn't been for those morons, she would have been quite happy in Na'vi dress.

The compressed gas cylinder in her rifle was full, and she had a complete magazine of tranquiliser darts. That should be more than enough, thought Janelle, looking longingly at her compound bow and quiver. Something made her reach out for her weapons, an enlarged copy of what she hunted with as a girl, and sling them over her shoulder.

The concrete of the landing-field was hot under her bare feet as she made her way to Samson One Six, one of the designated choppers for the science team.

"Hey Doc!" called out the diminutive pilot. She had replaced the old pilot only two days ago when he rotated home on the White Star. "You ready to bounce?"

Janelle struggled to remember the pilot's name, so she took a surreptitious peek at the letters stencilled on the cockpit door. "Yes, Chacon," said the researcher. "You know the destination?"

"Call me Trudy, Doc," said the pilot. "I read the briefing notes, you know. I'll have you out to the LZ in two shakes of a thanator's tail."

Great, thought Janelle - a military pilot, all swagger and false bonhomie. No doubt she would try and blow any wildlife to smithereens . "Ok, Trudy," she said. "Let's go."

The door gunners were already on board, checking their weapons. One of them, distinctly grey-faced, told her, "You better strap in, Doc. We're in for a wild ride."

"I've had hundreds of hours in choppers," responded Janelle, frowning slightly. How bad could this be? There would be a little turbulence, no doubt, because of the approaching Wet, but nothing else, surely.

"You've never flown with El Capitan Chacon," he said. "When you barf, use the bag, and make sure you don't get any on me, otherwise I will barf too."

Two minutes later she knew why he looked so nervous. This crazy bitch wasn't just flying nap of the earth, she was doing it at treetop height – and sometimes below. Janelle could feel the tree foliage slapping and banging against the skin of the chopper.

"What the fuck are you doing, Chacon?" yelled Janelle. "You're going to kill us all."

"Check our nine at five thousand feet," was the terse reply. Janelle looked out the left door of the chopper and saw the unmistakeable sight of a Great Leonopteryx lazily following their track. "I don't want to be swatted out of the sky by Big Red, and I don't think you would enjoy it either." She paused as the left rotor lifted over a more substantial treetop, adding, "Big Red won't dive on us while we are this low. Too much chance of him missing and running into a tree. He'll be out for easier prey."

"Oh," replied Janelle disconsolately, as the Samson nosed over down into a river canyon, making her feel distinctly light-headed. The feeling was only made worse with as their crazy pilot pulled out of the dive, pulling on the g-force and driving their weight into the floor of the chopper.

The other door gunner grinned at her discomfort, yelling, "Don't say you weren't warned." Both their eyes slid across to the first gunner who was busy throwing up into a barf bag. Janelle felt her gorge start to rise, but she clamped down, refusing to lose her breakfast and her dignity.

Ninety minutes later, the Samson landed gently at the LZ for her study area. Janelle slipped quickly out of the chopper, thankful to have her two feet resting on the ground. Trudy said calmly, "I'll pick you up in eight hours, Doc. If you can't get to this LZ, just call up your location and we'll winch you out."

"Thanks, Trudy," replied Janelle more than a little shakily.

"Air Pandora aims to please all our frequent flyers," was her laconic reply.

The chopper lifted off with a mechanical roar, leaving Janelle's sensitive ears ringing, despite the earplugs she routinely wore. She wasn't surprised to see long green streaks on the bellyskin of the infernal machine. As soon as the noise faded, she extracted her earplugs and waited for the soft sounds of the forest to return, before she plunged into its depths.

It took over an hour before she found the first signs of thanator spoor. Even better, they were only an hour or two old. Silently, she followed subtle signs of its tracks. Not for the first time did she think that it was old that such a large animal left so few signs of its passage. Nonetheless, she had plenty of experience picking up thanator tracks.

She was close, really close. It was time to get off the ground and into the trees. Quickly, Janelle scaled a tree, and cautiously moved in the direction the tracks followed, along the maze of aerial root systems.

'Sky-father!' she thought. Janelle had hit the jackpot – a thanator nest. An adult female was feeding its three cubs. No-one had ever seen an occupied nest – or if they had they hadn't survived. Carefully, so carefully, she eased off the safety of her rifle, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. There was a soft 'phut' as the tranquilliser dart sank into the soft flesh behind its middle leg.

Just as well the shot was perfect. The thanator roared as it whirled around, scattering its cubs and took a titanic leap towards her position. Involuntarily her heart rose into her mouth – she was not out of reach of a thanator's deadly claws, but she need not be worried. The thanator crumpled as it landed, almost directly below Janelle's position. She slid down to the ground as the cubs came whimpering towards their dam, sniffing its unconscious body and nuzzling it, trying to wake her up.

Janelle ignored the cubs as she implanted a tracker capsule under the thanator's skin, and extracted a few cc of blood, before running a rapid scan of its body. She didn't have long – the tranquiliser only worked for a little over ten minutes. Still, she looked speculatively at the cubs. A chance like this might never happen again. Progressively, she snagged each unhappy cub, and repeated the procedure she had just carried out on their parent.

Just as she finished processing the last cub, Janelle felt a prickling between her shoulder blades. Slowly, she lowered her data tablet to the ground and unslung her rifle, taking it firmly between both hands.

Janelle stood and whirled around, to see the most terrifying sight in the Universe. An angry male thanator with one raised paw directly in front of her, claws extended. As it bellowed and swung its huge paw, her finger automatically squeezed the trigger. The rifle fired, the dart sinking into the male's throat. The claws caught in her side, flinging her several body lengths across the nest, until she smashed into a tree trunk. As she hit, there was the expensive sound of breaking high-tech equipment, but Janelle was too concerned about her skin to worry about broken gear.

The male thanator crumpled to the ground.

Groggily, Janelle got to her feet. The rifle was smashed into several pieces, and the female was already beginning to stir. She needed more time.

The magazine of the rifle was broken open, exposing all the dart rounds – every single one of them smashed. She checked the breech of the rifle. Good. There was one round up the spout. Janelle cycled the bolt, ejecting the dart and palming it. Unsteadily, favouring her injured side, she walked over to the female and plunged the dart into its belly.

Janelle stripped off her top and felt her wounds. There were definitely some cracked ribs there as well as three deep wounds from the thanator's claws. She opened her kitbag and dug out her first aid kit, spraying on some disinfectant and slapping on some liquid chitin dressings. Quickly, she inspected the rest of her kit. Damn. Her comm unit was smashed – it must have been crushed between her body and the tree. That would account for the bruises on her right side. There would be no calling for early extraction, so she would have to make the LZ at the designated pickup time.

There was only one thing left to do. Janelle inserted an implant into the male thanator, took a blood sample and ran a scan. Thank the Sky-father that she had dropped the data tablet, otherwise all this would have been for nothing. Quickly, she performed a visual scan of the nest with her data tablet, otherwise no-one would believe what she had done.

Now came the difficult part of the exercise - running away. In her experience, most thanators were extremely angry about being tranquilised, and she had no doubt that these would be two extremely pissed off parents.

There was no point in taking her broken gear. It would just slow her down, and there was plenty of her scent in the nest for the thanators to identify her and follow her trail. Thankfully, her bow was a lot sturdier than her other gear, and none of her arrows were damaged, so perhaps she had a chance of getting clear. Not that an arrow would do much to slow down a thanator, and she really didn't want to wound one – not after taking so much trouble to tag them.

She scrambled into the trees, and started to run along the aerial roots.

It quickly became evident that she would not have the endurance to reach the LZ. Her ribs shot with pain with every deep breath. Not only that – she could feel blood trickling from under the dressings. There hadn't been enough time to let them set properly. She would have to find somewhere where she could bail up, out of the reach of the thanators and any other predators that might come along. Janelle stopped to consult her data tablet, calling up a detailed map of her study area. There was a pinnacle only a click away – not only was it secure against the thanators, there was a notation that there were caves. Janelle should be able to secure her Avatar there, unlink, and return tomorrow to collect both it and her data - if she could beat both the rain and the thanators.

As she slid her tablet back into her kit bag, the roar of an angry thanator echoed through the forest. No, it was two thanators.

There was no time to waste.