𐌄𐌋𐌙𐌉𐌍Ᏽ Ꮤ𐌉𐌕𐋅 𐌕𐋅𐌄 𐌍𐌌𐌀𐌕𐌉𐌊𐌀𐌙𐌀 (Aᕓ𐌀𐌕𐌀𐌓𐋄𐌍𐌂𐌔)

\\𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠//

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A sharp metallic hiss rang through the air, and scores of people emerged from their cryo-capsules in zero-G. The average onlooker, however, may describe these people as pale spirits of the dead rising from rows of open coffins.

"Guys... this is incredible are you seeing this?!" One of the newly awakened persons called over his coworkers as he stared at the moon of Pandora.

"Mmm... five more minutes," One of the many men emerging from cryo mumbled, closing his eyes and pretending to go back to sleep.

"Six years and you're acting like the alarm for school just went off." A chuckle sounded as a tall, skinny male floated towards his companion.

"Might as well be the alarm~ you do know that from today and on we may only ever get 4 hours of sleep... if we're lucky..." The first male sighed, reopening his eyes and watching a Med Tech float toward him and begin unbuckling him from his cryo bed.

"Come on, Nate. This is what we've been training for, for three years,"

"Norm... it is far too early for all this enthusiasm..." 'Nate' shook his head and rolled his eyes childishly.

"Right, like you're not just as excited," Norm chirped before pushing off the gurney and floating away.

Nate freed himself from all the leads and straps attached to his bed, pushing off and following after his co-worker. The Med Tech floats among them, using his announcement voice.

"People, you have been in cryo for five years, nine months, and twenty-two days. You will be hungry, you will be weak. If you feel nauseous, please use the sacks provided for your convenience. The staff thanks you in advance."

Against the cold infinity of stars glides an Interstellar Spacecraft, the ISV Venture Star. As it moves past like an endless train, it glides towards a gas giant planet called Polyphemus, ringed with dozens of moons that cast beauty-mark-like shadows on its vast face.

The ISV turns toward the largest moon, a blue and surprisingly Earth-like world called Pandora. The ship dwindled to a speck against the size of the large blue moon. The ISV Venture Star drifts above a spectacular vista, sapphire seas, and full luscious forests, all the unfamiliar continents of Pandora stare back at the dozens of wide, hopeful eyes looking out windows.

Two massive Valkyrie shuttles are set on the side of the ISV, one of them separates from the starship and moves away, its thrusters firing in short bursts. As the shuttle moves, it descends toward Pandora, filled with eager new blood and special forces officers ready to aid in the ongoing mission. The Valkyrie roars in across the treetops, the harsh wind produced by its thrusters moving trees, shaking the ground, and cracking like thunder. The thrusters slowly change angle bringing the ship to a slow hover as it prepares to land and drop off all the passengers inside.

"Exopacks on!" The Crew chief stomps down the aisle yelling.

"Remember people, you lose your mask you're unconscious in 20 seconds and you're dead in four minutes. Let's nobody be dead today, it looks bad on my report."

Beneath the shuttle air blasts outward for a hundred-meter radius before it settles onto its landing gear. Inside everybody is queued up in the aisles, with duffels ready. Rows of tense, expectant faces in breathing masks.

"The ramp comes down go directly into the base, do not stop! Go straight inside! Wait for my mark!" The Crew Chief called out over all the bodies in the shuttle as he made his way to the front.

The Cargo ramp opens with a hydraulic whine. A wave of toxic Pandorian air fills the shuttle bay like heat waves off a tar road. And so, the new arrivals start running double time down the ramp toward the compound that was to be their new home. They jog across the exposed apron toward a walkway covered in chainlink which leads to the complex.

On the upper walkway of the OPS center, seen from above, an ununiformed figure grips the railing, watching the new recruits walk/run through the tunnel below. The hair is clipped short. The scalp is etched by long parallel scars where some Pandorian denizen's claws raked across it. The bare arms, below tightly rolled sleeves, seem hewn out of some hard tropical wood. Criss-crossed by scars. The man raises his masked face to look at the sky. His eyes are an icy steel gray.

"You are not in Kansas anymore..."