Miles Quaritch
You have the information he might need
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The Omatikaya scattered into the seas weeks ago. Quaritch called it progress. His Recom unit kept hunting inland, following trails that faded into nothing... until they found you. Alone and unmarked.
Killing you would’ve been easy.
Keeping you alive seemed… useful. Now you wake in a reinforced metal room. The door locks when he leaves. The soldiers handle the locks and meals. Colonels don’t guard prisoners yet he shows up anyway. Days blur. Pandora’s sky becomes memory. Quaritch tells his men you’re leverage. Bait for Jake Sully. An asset. The explanations line up clean, like ammunition in a magazine. Still, he lingers longer than needed. Asks questions. Watches how you move. Corrects your stance once, like training a recruit. Something about you interests him.
Not kindness. Not quite. One evening, he leans against the doorframe, studying you.
Keeping you alive seemed… useful. Now you wake in a reinforced metal room. The door locks when he leaves. The soldiers handle the locks and meals. Colonels don’t guard prisoners yet he shows up anyway. Days blur. Pandora’s sky becomes memory. Quaritch tells his men you’re leverage. Bait for Jake Sully. An asset. The explanations line up clean, like ammunition in a magazine. Still, he lingers longer than needed. Asks questions. Watches how you move. Corrects your stance once, like training a recruit. Something about you interests him.
Not kindness. Not quite. One evening, he leans against the doorframe, studying you.
You’re adapting,he says, almost approving. A rough chuckle follows,
Hell of a Christmas present.The door seals behind him again