Space Smut

CHAPTER SEVEN - Shit Hits The Fan

Tskä was used to the nightmares that haunted her now. Faces she could no longer remember, scents and sounds that faded more each night until the only parts she could recognize were fire, smoke, and screams. The falling always jolted her awake, though. This time she was in Kxanì’s tent. She had fallen asleep there after Varang had ordered the warrior to watch over her while she spoke to Quaritch.

Now though? The tent was empty save for Tskä. She slipped from the tent. The others were gathered around the fires, talking, drinking. She scurried across the tarmac towards her parents' tent before slipping inside.

“Mama?” She called softly.

Varang's ear flicked toward the sound, half-asleep. “Yes Tskä?” She mumbled.

“I had the dream again…” Tskä murmured.

The Tsahik sighed before motioning. “Come. Quaritch left. You can take his spot.”

Tskä didn't need to be told twice. She moved across the tent, climbing next to Varang on the furs before curling up next to her.

“Now go back to sleep.” The Tsahik murmured, a hand resting on the girl's back.

Tskä slowly closed her eyes, falling back asleep with Varang's hand resting against her back.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Varang's ear flicked at a faint sound. Likely Quaritch returning or Tskä getting up for something.

And then she caught the scent. The edge of a knife pressed against her throat; her eyes snapped open. Varang was face to face with Sully’s woman, the female Na’vi looming over her, her face scrunched in a fierce snarl. Neytiri's gaze flicked to where Tskä was still thankfully asleep and unaware.

Varang let out a snarl, teeth bared, a warning not to touch the child. Tskä shifted against the furs, stirring.

“Where is Jake Sully?” Neytiri hissed. “Speak, or I cut.” She threatened, holding the knife closer.

Varang's ears pinned. “In a box. At the center.” She told her.

“You will take me,” Neytiri demanded.

“Mama?” Tskä’s voice broke through the tension like a battering ram.

Both women's attention snapped to the girl, now awake and staring at them with wide eyes, her ears pinned flat.

Varang took advantage of the distraction, slipping from under Neytiri's knife and scrambling across the bed. She shoved Tskä behind her, pinning the child between herself and the tent wall as she reached for her own weapons.

“You should come join the party–” Quaritch walked in, a drink in hand, and paused for a second at the sight in front of him.

Sully's woman in the middle of Varang's tent, where he had left her to sleep, his mate now very much awake and angry, with her weapons drawn and Tskä behind her.

Oh, he was pissed.

Neytiri hissed before disappearing out the side opening of the tent. Varang chased after her, already out for blood, while Quaritch opened fire.

Tskä let out a high-pitched sound of distress, her hands covering her ears as she hunkered down in the chaos.

Varang's attention snapped back to the child. “Go find Kxanì! Now!” She told her, her tone absolute in its command, before looking at Quaritch. “I want her heart!” She told him before bolting from the tent.

“God damn it!” Quaritch growled before looking at Tskä. “Do what your mother said. Go find Kxanì. You tell her shit hit the fan.”

Tskä stared up at him before giving a small nod, and then he was gone too, leaving her alone in the Tsahiks tent while the camp erupted into chaos.

People were yelling, ikran were screeching, alarms blaring.

Tskä walked out of the tent, her gaze flicking around; humans and mangkwan were scrambling, the noise and the lights made her ears and eyes hurt.

“Kxanì!” She looked around, moving between people, trying not to get stepped on or knocked over as raiders rushed past to follow after her mother.

Tskä couldn’t see her, couldn't hear over the shouting and alarms, and the smoke and chemical smells that filled the air on base made trying to find a scent trail nearly impossible.

She caught a flash of something bright orange out of the corner of her eye. She turned her gaze, latching on the figure. Pale skin, blonde dreads with Na’vi decorations.

She bolted after him. “Spider!”

He froze before looking down at her. “You gotta be kidding me…”

“Mama and Daddy said to find Kxanì. I can't.” She grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the mangkwan camp.

He shook his hand, slipping from hers. “Of course they'd just leave you out here.” He scoffed, looking annoyed.

An explosion erupted somewhere in the background, and Tskä immediately dropped her hands, covering her ears. Spider was immediately there, his form hunched over hers.

He let out a sound of annoyance. “Alright… alright, come on. I’m getting you somewhere safe, then I gotta go, okay?” He looked down at her.

Tskä nodded before Spider stood, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet. He moved quickly, trying hard to keep the two of them out of sight as he navigated through the mangkwan camp.

“What does this Kxanì look like?” He asked as they moved.

“She wears war paint like mama, she is really tall, and has a scar over her eye…” She told him, letting him lead the way.

It was strange. He talked like sky people; he was pale like sky people, but he moved and acted like na’vi, like her. Part of her wondered if he was like their dad, except sky people on the outside and na’vi on the inside.

“Okay, that doesn't seem too hard to find…” Spider said, his gaze flicking from one mangkwan to another, trying to distinguish what seemed like almost impossible subtle differences between war paint and clothes.

He froze, feeling the sharp point of a weapon press against his spine. He turned his head slowly, taking in the large female mangkwan warrior holding him at spear point.

“Kxanì!” Tskä sounded genuinely happy to see the female.

“Tskä, away from the pink skin,” Kanì growled.

Tskä looked between the two: Spider, who had a death grip on her arm like he wasn't quite sure if he should let her go, and Kxanì, who had a weapon pointed at her brother.

“Spear down!” Tskä told her.

Kxanì stared at the child like she had grown another head. “I will do no such thing. You will come, and I will slay this pink skin where he stands.” She growled.

Tskä's ears pinned and she pulled free of Spider's grip before shoving the shaft of Kxanì’s spear sideways away from Spider.

“No! He's my Spider! You can't hurt him!” She hissed at Kxanì, tiny fangs bared, her nose scrunched in an attempt to mimic the snarl she had seen her mother do.

Kxanì’s gaze flicked between the two before slowly lowering the spear. “Come. We must go.” She told Tskä, holding out her hand.

Kxanì didn't have time to negotiate with whatever stubborn nonsense the child had decided on. Taking the life of one sky person was not worth the risk of potentially losing track of Tskä again, or letting the humans take her somewhere she could not reach.

Tskä looked at Spider before grabbing his sleeve, tugging him towards Kxanì. “Come. We can go together.”

Spider moved a step then stopped. “Listen.” He told her before swallowing hard, pulling his sleeve from her grip. “I can't go with you. I have to go find someone else who needs my help. Quaritch is–” he caught himself glancing at Kxanì, who had arched a brow at whatever he was trying to do. “If you're ever in trouble, come find me. Okay? I know I said you weren't my sister, but I think we're the same kind of messed up, so…” he tried to explain, though he felt he was just making things more complicated.

Tskä stared at him, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“We are wasting time, Tskä. We go now.” Kxanì’s tone was firm, clearly setting a boundary that their discussion was over.

Spider turned and ran, making sure to stay covered as he disappeared behind a machine.

“Wait–!” Tskä moved to chase after him, only to have Kxanì catch her around the middle. “Let go!” Tskä yelled, squinting against the warrior.

“I will not. Your mother said, leave; we leave.” The warrior growled, hauling her towards the ikran.

Kxanì mounted her ikran, holding Tskä firmly against her as the beast launched into the sky. Its wings flapped, climbing skyward, taking them high above the city. Tskä looked down. She could see explosions, fires, people scattering and swarming like bugs trying to regain control of the situation.

“There’s mama!” She said, pointing out Varang's Nightwraith before it disappeared under the base.

“She will meet us later,” Kxanì told her as they flew, clearing the city limits and disappearing into the forests of Pandora.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter Eight will be up soon.🖤

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CHAPTER SIX - SPIDER

The successful military operation that had captured both Jake Sully and Spider had all but cemented the alliance between the RDA and the Mangkwan and opened a host of opportunities for the clan. Varang and her raiders had established a camp on the tarmac of the base, along with a surplus of resources and access to more weapons. For Tskä, being adopted by Quaritch meant she got free run on the base as long as she was supervised.

While Na’vi were not exactly something humans expected to look out the window and see thanks to the recoms and avatars, most of them found the Na'vi child infinitely more interesting. And the humans had a habit of staring with interest or snapping pictures of the girl.

“Tskä, get down here! Do not make me climb up there!” Quaritch growled, staring up at where Tskä had perched on a pipe out of his reach.

“I want to climb!” She whined, her tail lashing behind her as she remained crouched on the dark metal.

“Tskä, I'm going to count to three.” He warned.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“OH THAT IS IT! YOUNG LADY YOU ARE IN A WORLD OF TROUBLE!” He said, already starting to climb.

Tskä immediately realized her mistake and leapt to a nearby platform in an attempt to stay ahead of the marine. She scurried across the concrete only to let out a high-pitched squeal as Quaritch caught her around the middle.

“LET GO!” She growled, trying to squirm free of his grip.

“Do not growl at me, young lady." He said before dropping down from the ledge, landing with a heavy thud.

“ASSHOLE!” She hissed.

Quaritch’s head snapped down to where he held her. “Where the hell did you learn that!?”

Tskä went quiet for a long moment. “…Uncle Lyle.” She muttered.

“Of course.” Quaritch's ears flattened before he set her down.

Tskä immediately tried to run off, but Quaritch grabbed her shoulder. “Wait a second, pipsqueak, you and I gotta have a little chat.” His tone was firm.

Tskä hesitated before reluctantly turning and looking at him.

“You can't run around climbing buildings and swearing, got it?” His tone was firm.

“How come?” She asked.

Quaritch sighed, running a hand over his face. “Because we're around humans. Dad's boss. And we need to impress them. Which means you gotta act like a civilized, normal kid.”

She stared up at him. “I am acting like a kid.”

“I need you to act like a human kid.” His tone was blunt, his frustration clear.

Tskä’s ears pinned.

He dropped into a crouch in front of her, his tail lashing behind him. “I know it’s hard. But it's important. Your mom and I, we got a lot riding on this thing with my bosses. You like living on base, right?”

Tskä watched him. “I guess…” she sounded reluctant.

“I want you and Varang to stay here, but for that to happen, we gotta play by human rules.” He was trying to explain, to make her understand the position he was in that he needed this to work.

“…So no climbing?” She asked.

“Outside the base, climb till your legs fall off, I don't care. But in the base?” He pointed down at the space between them. “No climbing, no growling, no hissing. You gotta pretend to be like them. You understand?”

Tskä hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, sir…”

“And no more cursing. Next time you do that shit, I'm going to wash you and Uncle Lyle's mouth out with soap. Got it?” At this point he sounded more tired than aggravated.

She nodded.

“Alright, let's go get you cleaned up before we go in.” He sighed, ushering her towards the Recom housing.

She let out a frustrated sound that sounded similar to the same one her mother made. “But sky people's clothes are itchy!”

“It's just a few pictures and tests.” He sighed.

“I don't want to.” She grumbled.

“We can go see Spider.” He offered, trying to figure out exactly how his life had devolved into negotiating with a child.

Tskä’s face lit up at the mention of Spider. While she had never met him in person, there had been plenty of pictures in Quaritch’s quarters she had gotten into.

“And burger!” She demanded.

“You know your mom doesn't like you having that human crap.” He reminded.

“Burger!” She insisted, shaking his arm.

“Okay! Fine! I'll get you a damn burger!” He conceded.

Human clothes were uncomfortable. They felt heavy, restrictive, and itchy. Tskä fidgeted, tugging at the collar of the pink hoodie similar to Quaritch's that she had been shoved into.

“Stop fidgeting.” Quaritch grabbed her hand, pulling it away from the neckline of the garment.

Tskä huffed, glancing down; the pale green pants covering her legs were making her skin crawl.

“How long do we have to do this?” She asked.

“Until the science pukes decide you're done.” His gaze locked on the lab techs who were murmuring amongst themselves. “We doing this or what?” He barked at them.

The woman looked at them before walking over with a box.

Tskä’s ears flattened. She’d seen plenty of humans from a distance. They walked around the tarmac, were around the base, but Varang had been careful to keep distance between her and the sky people. Quaritch, however, seemed more than comfortable to let the human female approach the girl.

She sat across from them, setting the box on the table. “Hello Tskä. I'm Dr. Elmore.” She introduced herself.

Tskä's gaze flicked to Quaritch.

He nodded to the scientist. “It's alright.” He reassured her.

“Hello…” She murmured, her tail wrapping around her leg.

“Your dad said we could play. Is that alright?” The scientist said, giving a smile.

“…I guess.” She said, glancing at Quaritch.

The marine didn't seem particularly worried or tense; he was just still, observing.

Tskä relaxed a fraction.

“What are we going to play?” She asked.

“I brought some puzzles, and blocks—” Dr. Elmore said, digging out items.

Tskä watched her. “What's a puzzle?”

The doctor glanced at Quaritch as if questioning the man's judgment of the child.

“Remember when you watched me disassemble a weapon and put it back together?” Quaritch asked.

Tskä nodded.

“It's like that except you get to do it.” He explained, and she looked infinitely more interested in the tasks now, while the doctor looked mildly horrified at the explanation.

“Well, it's a little different…” Dr. Elmore said, setting a puzzle in front of her.

The actual battery of tests wasn't hard. They presented her with different puzzles and problems, watching how long it took her to work them out, if she gave up, if she asked for help. How well she focused when distracted or under pressure. How quickly she seemed to pick things up or understand how things worked.

Dr. Elmore flipped through the results, Tskä sitting at the table still but now happily shoving a burger into her face and looking more comfortable now.

“Well?” Quaritch asked, glancing at the chart.

“Cognitive ability and spatial reasoning are high. She's a fast learner, highly adaptable. Impulse control isn't ideal, but she's a kid, so…” Dr. Elmore reported.

“Meaning?” Quaritch prompted.

“She could be an asset.” She admitted.

“Could be?” He arched his brow at her.

“She seems dependent on you.” Dr. Elmore explained. “It's not uncommon for children to look to parents in social and environmental situations they aren't familiar with. She looked to you to gauge whether I was safe or not; you said I was, and she engaged.”

“And that's a bad thing?” He asked.

“Not necessarily; it just means she values your judgement, trusts it. However, if your judgement were not to align with RDA commands, that would be a problem…” She told him.

“It won't be a problem. Recommend they put her directly under my command, and in ten years this kid is going to be your key to Pandora.” Quaritch told her.

Dr. Elmore hesitated, glancing towards Tskä. “I hope you know what you're doing, Colonel…” she said before submitting the report and walking away.

Quaritch let out a slow exhale, running his hand through his hair. Things were lining up. Going well for once. He just needed to ride this out a little longer and—

A loud sound came from the opposite end of the lab. Tskä jumped, her gaze darting across the lab before zeroing in on a boy behind an observation glass slamming a chair against the glass.

Shit.

Tskä stood, moving towards the glass. “That's Spider?” She asked like she wasn't sure.

“Yeah, kid. That's him.” He said the words slowly, like he couldn’t believe it either, though his was probably for very different reasons.

“Why is he acting like that?” She looked up at Quaritch.

He glanced down at her. “He's trying to get out.”

“Is he scared of the science people too?” She asked.

“…Yeah, probably.” He sighed. “You want to go say hi?” He asked.

She nodded eagerly.

“You let me go in first, alright?” Quaritch instructed.

“Okay…” She nodded.

She watched him walk into the room. She waited a few seconds before trailing after him, peeking into the room.

Spider was standing opposite Quaritch, looking tense; the marine still had his back to the door.

“I told the science pukes to lay off you for a while…” Quaritch told Spider, pulling a burger from his pocket and sliding towards him.

“Where's Jake?” Spider demanded, shoving the burger back towards the marine.

“Jake’s locked up; he's not going anywhere,” Quaritch told him.

“If you hurt him–” Spider threatened.

“You're with me now. I'm your father.” Quaritch told him.

“My father's dead.” Spider snapped.

“I brought someone who'd beg to differ.” The marine shot back before glancing back to where Tskä was peeking in and jerked his chin towards Spider. “Come on in, kid. He doesn't bite.”

Tskä hesitated before slipping into the room and clinging to Quaritch's leg.

Spider looked between the kid and Quaritch. “What is this? Some kind of joke?”

“No, this is Tskä. She's your sister.” Quaritch told him.

Spider stared at the girl clinging to the Marine's leg, trying to reconcile the fact that a Na’vi child was hanging onto Quaritch of all people.

“I don't know what this is, but she is not my sister.” He told Quaritch, jabbing a finger in Tskä’s direction.

Tskä's fingers tightened where they gripped the side of Quaritch's shorts.

“I got paperwork that says otherwise.” He told Spider.

“Right, paperwork. You make her in a lab or something too?” Spider growled.

Tskä's ears pinned.

“Now, son—” Quaritch tried to defuse the situation.

“I’m not your son, and that thing is not my sister!” Spider snapped.

Tskä flinched. Quaritch glanced down at her, watching her cling to his leg as she withstood the verbal onslaught.

“Alright,” Quaritch told him, pulling his dog tags off, setting them on the gurney between them. “You think about what I said.” He told Spider before grabbing and carrying her out of the room, the door closing and locking behind him.

Tskä was silent as Quaritch walked. “You alright, kid?”

“…Does Spider hate me?” She asked softly.

Quaritch sighed. “Nah, kid. Your brother is just…he's angry at me right now.”

“He said you were dead,” Tskä muttered, clinging to him, her tiny arms going around his neck.

Quaritch tensed for a second. The affection was unprompted, and something he'd never experienced with Spider. The kid had been just a baby when he had died, and the last two years hadn't done their relationship any favors.

“He's not wrong.” Quaritch sighed before slowly setting Tskä down crouching down to her level. “I used to be human, like Spider. I came out here, fought in a war that got Spider’s mom and me killed. The RDA brought me back like this.” He tried to explain it best he could.

Tskä stared at him before her hands pressed against his face. “Your sky people on the inside?” She asked.

Quaritch laughed. “Yeah, I'm sky people inside.”

She stared at him. “Does that mean you get all the burgers you want?”

Quaritch sighed standing, taking her smaller hand as they started walking again. “Is that really what you're taking from this?”

“They're good!” She insisted.

Thank you for reading!

I know I've been rapid firing these chapters and I love writing them but I'm going to take a small but well deserved break (a day or two)

Chapter Seven will be up in a few days🖤

Tskä's Tag List:

CHAPTER FIVE - A Name, A Place, A Future

The nightmares had started…she couldn’t remember when they’d started. They were just there most nights. She could smell spices, feel the cool wind whipping her braids around, bright colors on the wind. And then things seemed to grow darker, smoke appearing on the horizon, arms wrapping around her tightly. Then screams, someone collapsing on top of her, crashing through branches. Tskä gasped, bolting upright as she startled awake.

“Mama!” She was still half asleep when she slipped, disoriented from the nightmare and calling out for something familiar.

Varang appeared anyway, rushing into the tent as if she had expected to find an enemy rather than a distressed child. Her hand didn’t move from her weapon when she realized there was no threat; instead, both hands moved, reaching to remove them completely, setting them aside before moving towards Tskä, who was upset and trembling.

The Tsahik approached the edge of the sleeping area slowly. Tskä reached for her without hesitation. Varang slowly slid onto the sleeping mat next to her, her movements cautious. Tskä immediately clung to her, cuddling close. Varang stiffened slightly, hesitating before a hand settled against the girl's hair.

“It happened again,” Tskä mumbled against her.

“What happened?” Varang murmured in the dark of the tent.

“…The nightmares,” Tskä told her, her voice small and quiet.

“It was just a dream, Tskä,” Varang told her. “Go back to sleep.”

Tskä cuddled closer. “It felt real…” She was still trembling, the sensation of falling, the scent of smoke still clinging to her senses like a phantom memory.

Varang had never imagined herself as a motherly type. She had never been particularly interested in children before Tskä. A child of her own had never appealed to her; blood did not guarantee loyalty, and heirs had a way of becoming threats.

But Tskä was different. She was here because Varang had chosen her. She had plucked the child from the ashes and given her a name, a place, a future. Perhaps she could also give her the mother she seemed desperate to remember.

“It was not real, Tskä. Mama is here.” Varang told her.

Before, Tskä had balked at the idea of Varang as her mother. She had become distressed when Kxanì had presented her with the idea. But now her mother was some nameless, faceless figure from her past that haunted her dreams. Varang was real, here. Varang took care of her; the Tsahik protected her, fed her—the same with Quaritch.

Tskä’s eyes grew heavy, sleep slowly creeping back in now that the initial panic of the nightmare had been soothed into something safe and familiar.

☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠

“You are not wearing war paint to the base, pipsqueak.” Quaritch huffed as he adjusted the tack on his ikran.

“But the other warriors get to wear it! Kxanì gets to!” Tskä whined from her spot on an RDA crate.

“They are wearing it because we are flying into a battle after setting up camp. War paint is for warriors, not for children playing pretend.” Varang told her, the Tsahik's voice firm but not cruel.

“I can fight!” Tskä insisted, and Varang shot her a look that instantly had her shutting her mouth.

“You are fierce, but you are too important. Your father and I cannot afford to worry about you on the battlefield. This enemy has used one child against him; we do not need to hand them another.” She explained.

Quaritch tensed slightly, tightening the strap of the ikran saddle.

Tskä’s head tilted. “Another kid?”

The marine huffed a sigh, glancing at Tskä, internally cursing Varang for bringing up the boy before he’d had a chance to prepare himself for the mess this conversation would inevitably be.

“I guess technically, you have a brother. Spider.” Quaritch told her. “Some of the natives turned him on us, and they aren’t shy about using him as leverage.” He tried to explain. “He’s also human, which means you're stronger than him. It’s important you don’t hurt him, even if he acts… aggressive. Last thing I need is you two scrapping, trying to rip each other’s throats out.” He told her, and Tskä’s ears flattened.

“You cannot ask that of her. If the boy tries to–” Varang started.

“Spider won't do shit. He’s going to take one look at her and see a normal Na’vi kid. He’s got a soft spot for them.” Quaritch cut her off.

Varang's eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue. She had seen the way the air breather had interacted with the younger Sully child.

She turned her attention back to the child. “Are you flying with me or your father?”

“Daddy!” Tskä said with a small feral grin, jumping on the marine.

“Jesus Christ, kid!” Quaritch grunted, catching her with some effort.

Varang tried not to look slighted by the choice. She was aware her Nightwraith was more intimidating-looking than her mate's ikran. Not that his own mount was particularly friendly. But to Tskä it was more familiar than the nightmarish creature Varang rode.

“Listen. Do not make him drop you.” Varang instructed, ruffling her hair as she passed, moving towards her own mount.

Quaritch mounted his own ikran, settling Tskä in front of him. “Hang on tight.” He warned before the ikran launched itself into the air.

Tskä loved flying. It shouldn’t be surprising, considering both her parents flew. But there was something about being up on an ikran, looking down at everything, the cool air whipping past them, that felt familiar and comfortable. Ash plains slowly gave way to emerald forest canopies. What was a normal change in terrain to Quaritch felt foreign to Tskä. She’d grown used to the pale expanse of the ash plains, to avoiding the ash storms and the distant volcanic smoke that clouded the sky. The deep emeralds of the forest and clear blue sky overhead had a new, strange novelty to them.

She looked up at Quaritch. “Can we go down there?” She asked.

“No, we got a schedule to keep; besides, the forest ain't a place for kids.” He told her.

She pouted but didn’t argue, settling to watch the treetops speed past below them.

The base was…considerably less comfortable. Varang and Quaritch had left the rest of the raiding party to wait outside of the RDA’s hot zone. Quaritch flew lead with Tskä tucked against him, Varang, Kxanì, and Lyle flanking him on either side as they flew in, landing on the tarmac.

Tskä pressed closer to the marine, her ears flattening at the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and scents. Varang had time to adjust; the few times she had been here with Quaritch had taught her what to expect from the human environment. For Tskä, it was new and overwhelming.

Quaritch dismounted before reaching up and grabbing Tskä, helping her down. The child immediately decided clinging to his leg was the safest option. Varang wasn’t far behind, not content to just watch the child be taken away, with Kxanì following close behind.

The path to Quaritch’s quarters was a winding path filled with loud, unfamiliar sounds and glaring fluorescent lights. He unlocked the door, shoving it open. “You and the kid stay here, keep your heads down, do not open the door until I get back.” He told her.

Kxanì looked from Quaritch to Varang as if expecting this to be some trap, or some poorly planned ambush. But Varang didn’t interfere; there was no signal to attack. The Tsahik just moved towards the child, crouching down to her level.

Her hands rested on the child's shoulders. “You stay close and listen to Kxanì.” She stood slowly, looking at Kxanì. “If things go poorly, remember the plan.” She told her.

Kxanì gave her a sharp nod. “I will protect her until you return.” She nodded.

Tskä clung to Kxanì as she watched Varang and Quaritch walk away. The familiar anxiety that Varang and Quaritch might not return settled in, her chest growing tight.

“What plan?” Quaritch asked, glancing at Varang.

The Tsahik didn’t look at him. “If we die, she is to take Tskä back to the village and lead the clan until Tskä can become Tsahik.” She told him.

Quaritch grunted his approval. It was the first time he had heard Varang consider a future for the kid where she wasn’t directly involved. But he shouldn’t have been surprised. Varang was smart and calculated. Of course she had some sort of contingency plan in case they failed. She wouldn’t just leave the future leader of her clan in the control of humans.

When they got back to their mounts, Lyle was sitting there waiting. “Kid secure?”

“Yeah, let's get it done,” Quaritch said, mounting his ikran, Varang doing the same before the three of them launched into the air, flying off to rejoin the raiders and rendezvous with the military detachment.

Thank you for reading!

I know this chapter is short and kinda felt like filler (at least to me) but I promise it's important to the plot and next chapter!

Chapter Six will be up soon🖤

Tskä's Tag List:

CHAPTER FOUR - Playing With Fire

The sound of beating wings announced the raiding party's return before they appeared in the distance. When they finally landed at the edge of the camp, it was in a gust of ash and debris. The clan immediately set to work unloading resources. Varang's feet hit the dirt, kicking up a small cloud of ash. Tskä darted out of the Tsahik’s tent. 

“Tskä!” Kxanì called, chasing after her, stopping at the edge of the center of camp. 

Tskä ran through the gathering crowd, her tiny body squeezing between the adults until she came face to face with a screeching banshee. She scrambled sideways away from it before spotting Varang among the raiders.

Tskä rushed to her. “You came back…”

“I told you I would,” Varang said, a hand resting atop the child's head. 

She didn't linger on reassuring the child, moving away to assess the items they had gathered from the raid, Tskä trailing after her like a tiny shadow.

“Make sure the meat is taken care of first. It’s quick to rot.” Varang ordered, already sifting through items. She glanced to the side, spotting Tskä pulling herself upwards, trying to peek over the edge of the woven basket that was nearly as tall as she was. Varang pulled out a bundle, presumably items the Tsahik had taken for herself, handing it to the girl. “Go take this to the tent.” She ordered, trying to give the girl something to do that wasn’t being underfoot of the raiding party and their mounts.

Tskä took it, looking down at the bundle in her arms, then at Varang before turning and taking off into the crowd, worming her way back through the people towards what was now home.

She had nearly cleared the throng of people when a hand darted out, snatching the cloth bundle from her hands.

“Hey!” Tskä tried and failed to hold on, the item slipping from her fingers.

The male who had snatched the item sneered down at her before turning to walk away. Tskä stared after him for a second, and then she got up. She didn’t shout for Varang or Kxanì. She took a step towards the adult, then another, until she was running after him, grabbing at his arm, trying to get the items back.

“Give it back!” She growled.

“Get off me.” The male snarled, shaking her off before pushing her into the dirt with his foot. 

Tskä hissed at him, tiny fangs bared, before launching herself at him again, her fingertips brushing the item. He tried to pull her off; this time she bit him, tiny fangs sinking into flesh, the taste of copper and ash coating her tongue. The male let out a cry of pain before hitting her. Tskä dropped, hitting the ashen dirt hard, blood trickling from her nose.

Before Tskä could fully register what had happened, Varang was there, weapons drawn, looming over her, Kxanì already shouldering her way through the people, the male frozen between the two females, slowly realizing just how badly he had fucked up.

“You touched my Tsakrem.” Varang’s tone was cold and lethal as she glanced at Tskä, who was sitting up, wiping the blood from her face. 

It was the first time Varang had used the formal title in reference to the girl. It was something that everyone had assumed, but to hear the Tsahik proclaim as much had just cemented the child's position as future Tsahik of the clan; murmurs were already rippling through those gathered.

“I did not realize.” The male's excuse was weak and pathetic. 

Varang's gaze went to Kxanì, who was waiting nearby, her spear already in hand.

“Kill him,” Varang ordered before sheathing her own blades. She walked over, grabbing Tskä by the arm, hoisting her up onto her hip before turning away and heading towards the Tsahik’s tent, the male's screams echoing in the background.

“I didn’t mean to–” Tskä mumbled against Varang’s shoulder.

“You do not apologize for protecting what is yours.” Varang's tone was firm as she carried Tskä into the tent. Varang let the child slide down her leg to the floor before crouching in front of the child and grabbing the girl's chin, examining the extent of the damage. “You will be fine.” She told Tskä, though for a moment it sounded as if she was reassuring herself. She slowly moved to where she kept her own things, pulling out a container of golden liquid. “Here.” She offered it to the child.

Tskä blinked, taking it before opening the container and sniffing. Hive nectar. Sweet, and probably hard for the Mangkwan to acquire. Her gaze flicked up to Varang. 

“You did well.” The Tsahik told her, ruffling her hair as she walked past her, back towards the entrance. “Stay here and eat.”

Tskä smiled before dipping her fingers into the nectar and shoving them into her mouth. Her scuffle with the male had clearly pleased Varang enough to reward her, and after the fight, she was more than pleased to sit in the tent and eat the reward Varang had given her.

☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠

When Quaritch returned, it was around dusk. Varang was still overseeing the clan, Kxanì next to her, whatever conversation they had been having dying on their lips as Quaritch approached. 

“Evening, ladies.” He greeted.

Kxanì rolled her eyes before walking off. 

“She’s warming up to me.” Quaritch chuckled. 

“I would not be so sure,” Varang told him, her tail swaying lazily behind her. 

“Where’s the kid?” He asked. 

“Asleep, her face covered in nectar.” Varang almost sounded amused. 

“I thought you were saving that shit for something important?” Quaritch asked.

“It was important. Tskä drew blood for the first time.” The Tsahik sounded proud.

Quaritch’s expression darkened. “What happened?” 

“I returned from the raid, and one of the men took what I gave her. The man struck her after she bit him while trying to retrieve it.” Her tone was nonchalant, as if she were discussing something mundane and not the fact that some grown man had backhanded a little girl who had bitten him.

“Which one?” Quaritch growled, his tail lashing behind him.

Varang smirked. “He is no longer a concern.” 

Quaritch paused for a second, going still. “You killed him, didn’t you?” 

He wasn’t shocked. He’d been around Varang and her people long enough to know what to expect. At this point, it was a genuine guess at the outcome.

“He put his hands on our Tsakrem. I had to send a message.” Varang explained.

“Yeah, that tracks.” He huffed a sigh, his hands resting on his hips.

Varang let out a small hum of acknowledgement. 

“Listen, how would you feel about moving camp?” Quaritch asked. 

“I cannot just move the entire village.” She told him. “Why?” She asked, her interest piqued.

“RDA is planning an operation to take Spider and Jake. I want you and your people to ride out with me. If it goes well, RDA will be more willing to help and tolerate the clan. They also wanna see the kid.” He said, jerking his chin towards the tent.  

Varang watched him, her gaze intense as she absorbed his words. “What do they want with my Tsakrem?” She asked.

“Nothing bad. They just want to take some pictures, talk to her. Proof to show people we work well together.” He told her. “It would be good for her.”

Varang didn’t seem entirely convinced. “And what if your sky people decide to keep her?”

That wasn’t going to happen. Not after TAP blew up in their faces. Hell, the only reason they were willing to let the kid on base was that Quaritch had assured them she followed orders and was under his direct control. 

“They won't. I’ll make sure of it.” He promised. 

Varang sighed, considering his words. “I cannot move the entire clan. I have territory to maintain. The children, younger warriors, and elderly will stay in their respective camps and the village; I will put people in place to make sure things continue in my absence. You have me, my raiders, and Tskä.” She compromised.

“I can work with that,” Quaritch smirked, seeming pleased.

“You always manage with the scraps I give you.” Varang mused, a finger hooking a strap on his tactical vest, tugging him closer.

He arched a brow, looking down at her. “You're playing with fire, Cupcake.”

“Good.” She smirked, grabbing his wrist and dragging him away from the camp.

Quaritch let her, letting the Tsahik lead her out into the ash plains, away from the fires and the prying eyes of the camp.

The plains were dark; the image of the charred remains of the fallen home tree amid the ash field was a hauntingly beautiful sight. Much like Varang herself, her back to him, her hips and tail swaying with an almost hypnotic rhythm. She turned, pulling him towards a large, pale fallen limb that reached skyward, the branch larger than any grown human tree on earth. Her back hit the smooth surface where bark had burned away, Quaritch's mouth slanting over hers. 

The kiss was an immediate clash of teeth and tongue. Neither of them was willing to submit to the other. Quaritch pressed his weight into her, his large hands coming up to grip the sides of her head. His fingers tangled into her braids, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss and drawing a low, guttural purr from his chest.

Varang met his aggression effortlessly. Her tail lashed against his thigh, his hips pressing flush against hers. The abrasive canvas and heavy straps of his tactical vest dug into her smooth skin, an irritating barrier between them.

She broke the kiss just long enough to let out a sharp, frustrated hiss. Her hands dropped between them, gripping the edges of his vest. She didn't bother with patience, tearing at the velcro and clasps.

"Impatient, are we?" Quaritch grunted, his voice a low drawl as he let go of her hair to help her shed the gear.

"You wear too much," Varang growled, her complaint. 

She shoved the heavy vest upwards and off his shoulders, letting it hit the ash-dusted ground with a dull thud. Her hands went to the waistband of the fatigues, quickly unbuckling the belt and yanking them open.

With the barrier gone, Quaritch crowded her against the pale wood again. His chest rumbled as her nails scraped along his shoulders, finding purchase to pull him back down. He didn’t waste time. His hands dropped to her waist before he lifted her effortlessly onto the smooth, pale curve of the fallen branch.

Varang’s legs instantly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Bossy,” Quaritch muttered against her jaw, his teeth nipping at her throat before his tongue soothed the skin.

“Quiet,” She hissed softly, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back.

He let out a low growl. He didn't bother stripping completely, just shoving the heavy fatigues low enough to clear the way. A large, calloused hand slid between them, his fingers slipping under the thin strap that held her loincloth in place before giving a rough tug, the slip of fabric falling loose. His hands slid to her thighs, holding her in place as he positioned himself against her entrance. 

 With one brutal, fluid motion, he thrust forward, burying himself deep. Varang's nails dug into him, her back arching, inhaling sharply. The cool, solid wood at her back was a sharp contrast to the blistering heat of him. A guttural sound tore from her throat as his large hands tightened their grip, bruising her thighs. 

The shock of the impact melted instantly into a slick heat, but Varang had no intention of letting him keep control.

As he started to drive upward, she locked her thighs tighter around his waist, using her leverage to force him to stall. She surged forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her mouth slammed against his throat just beneath his jaw, her canines dragging against the skin before she bit with pressure just shy of breaking skin.

Quaritch choked out a rough, ragged sound, his hands flying to her hips to steady himself as the sharp spike of pain hit him. She growled against his skin, tasting the iron heat of copper as she bit down harder.

He let out a low, gravelly groan, completely yielding to her. She didn't wait for him to move again; she lifted her hips, rocking against him, setting her own ruthless, punishing rhythm. 

Instead of speed, she shifted to a slower tempo, a deep, agonizingly deliberate grind that made Quaritch groan, his head falling forward against her shoulder. Every upward roll of her hips forced him to chase a rhythm she controlled entirely. Her nails bit into his shoulders, anchoring him in place as she milked him. Every inch of the movement was calculated, designed to strip away every remaining ounce of control the soldier tried to cling to. Quaritch’s breathing was a hot, ragged mess against her skin, his large hands clamped so tightly over her hips that his knuckles turned stark white. He wasn't fighting her; he couldn't. The sheer friction of her sliding along his cock, slow and heavy, made his vision blur at the edges.

She pulled back just enough to look down at him, her amber eyes burning with feral satisfaction as she watched his face twist under the intensity.

"Mine," She purred, her voice a low, absolute sound against his ear, before she rolled her hips upward in a sharp, sudden movement that dragged a choked, broken sound straight from his chest. 

The deliberate pace could only hold for so long before the heat curdled into something raw and frantic, the friction building an unbearable, white-hot pressure behind his ribs. Quaritch’s control didn’t just fray; it snapped. His fingers spasmed against her hips, his knuckles digging in hard enough to bruise. With a low, savage growl tearing from his chest, he shoved upward, trying to claw back a fraction of the tempo, trying to force her to yield to him for just a second.

Varang didn't budge an inch. She met his resistance with cold, brutal efficiency, locking her thighs tighter around his waist and leaning her full, heavy weight straight down into him. She didn't let him take an inch. Instead, she weaponized his own momentum, taking his upward shove and turning it into a blinding, chaotic rush of movement that stole the very breath right out of his lungs.

The world narrowed down to the deafening thrum of their blood and the drumming of their pulse. His fingers splayed wide over the warm expanse of her back in a sudden, desperate grip. Not to push her away, not to fight her, but to anchor himself to her as she rocked against him.

"Varang–" he choked out, his military composure completely incinerating into ash.

She didn't let him fall. Not yet.

Right on the precipice of his release, Varang shifted her weight, breaking the rhythm just enough to pull back. She wasn't about to finish second, and she definitely wasn't going to let him spend himself before she had wrung every last drop of pleasure out of him for her own.

A sharp gasp tore from her throat as she ground against him,  changing the angle with a cruel, deliberate precision. She chased her own climax with a ruthless, singular focus, riding him as her body began to coil tight.

Quaritch groaned, a harsh, miserable sound, his hips twitching upward in a desperate, denied plea at the sudden change in tempo.

Varang ignored him entirely, her nails sinking deep into his shoulders as the white-hot pleasure finally broke over her. A violent, shuddering wave ripped through her frame, her internal muscles clenching tight around him as she rode him while she peaked, forcing the soldier to stay suspended right on the razor-edge until she had taken everything she wanted.

The wave of her climax rolled through her in agonizing pulses, her inner walls clamping down around him so fiercely that Quaritch let out a ragged, tortured sound. She dragged out every second of it, riding the peak until her vision blurred and her breath hitched, using every lingering contraction to keep him trapped on the edge. Only when the intensity of her release finally began to recede did she loosen her grip.

The moment she gave him an inch, Quaritch shattered completely. All semblance of restraint dissolved into pure, unrestrained animal need. With a growl, he shoved upward, driving into her with reckless, frantic desperation, rutting into her, completely undone by the prolonged denial, chasing his own release with a brutal, relentless rhythm.

The dark ash-dusted air filled with the wet, heavy friction of their bodies against the pale, charred wood. A  hoarse, broken curse tore from his throat as the heavy pressure that had been building in his gut finally gave way. He drove himself as deep as he could go, spilling hot and heavy inside her with a violent shudder that seized his entire frame, roaring his release against her shoulder.

Slowly, the frantic static in the air gave way to the ambient chill of the ash field. Varang’s tail flicked lazily against the pale wood. She didn't push him off, keeping him anchored to her as the initial adrenaline drained from her limbs, her body radiating with a lingering heat.

Quaritch let out a long, slow exhale against her skin. He didn't move to pull away. His large hand, which had been pressed against her back, slackened, his calloused fingers sliding flat against her skin in a heavy, grounding touch. When he finally shifted his weight, pulling back just enough to look down at her, his eyes were dark and his pupils blown wide.

"Well," Quaritch rasped out, his voice still thick and gravelly from the climax. "That was one hell of a ride."

Varang’s mouth twitched into a sharp, feral smirk, her amber eyes locking onto his.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter Five will be up soon🖤