ꎇ꒒ꌩꀤꈤꁅ ꅏꀤ꓄ꃅ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꂦꂵꍏ꓄ꀤꀘꍏꌩꍏ (ꍏꃴꍏ꓄ꍏꋪ ꊼ ꂦꉓꌗ)

\\𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠//

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A sharp metallic hiss echoed through the silent air, and scores of people emerged from their cryo-capsules in zero-G. To the average onlooker, these people might appear as pale spirits of the dead rising from rows of shadowy, open coffins.

"Guys... are you seeing this?!" One of the newly awakened persons called out, his voice tinged with awe as he hovered in the zero-gravity cavern, gazing at the moon of Pandora.

"Mmm... five more minutes," Mumbled one of the many men emerging from cryo, closing his eyes and attempting to retreat back into the depths of slumber.

"Six years, and you're acting like the alarm for school just went off." A chuckle reverberated as a tall, wiry figure drifted toward his companion.

"Might as well be the alarm. From today on, we may only ever get four hours of sleep... if we're lucky," Sighed the bulkier male, reopening his eyes and watching a Med Tech float towards him, beginning to unbuckle him from his cryo bed.

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

"Norm... it's far too early for this much enthusiasm," Nate rolled his eyes playfully while attempting to stretch his stiff limbs.

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

Nate pushed off his cryo bed and followed his coworker. The Med Tech's announcement voice echoed through the cavern.

"People, you have been in cryo for five years, nine months, and twenty-two days. You will be hungry, and 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 glided an Interstellar Spacecraft, the ISV Venture Star. As it moved past like an endless, silent train, it steered toward a gas-giant planet called Polyphemus, ringed with dozens of moons that cast ghostly shadows on its vast face.

The ISV turned toward the largest moon, a blue and surprisingly Earth-like world called Pandora. The ship dwindled to a mere speck against the enormous blue moon. The ISV Venture Star drifted above a breathtaking vista: sapphire seas and lush, alien continents of Pandora, staring back at the dozens of wide, hopeful eyes gazing out the windows.

Two massive Valkyrie shuttles were set on the side of the ISV. One of them separated from the starship and glided away, its thrusters firing in short bursts. As the shuttle descended toward Pandora, it was filled with eager new blood and special forces officers, ready to aid in the ongoing mission. The Valkyrie roared across the treetops, the harsh wind produced by its thrusters swaying the trees, shaking the ground, and cracking like thunder. The thrusters slowly changed angle, bringing the ship to a hovering stop as it prepared to land and drop off its passengers.

"Exopacks on!" The Crew Chief's command echoed down the aisle.

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

Beneath the shuttle, air blasted outward for a hundred-meter radius before it settled onto its landing gear. Inside, everyone queued up in the aisles, with duffels ready. Rows of tense, expectant faces peered through breathing masks.

"The ramp comes down and goes directly into the base. Do not stop! Go straight inside! Wait for my mark!" The Crew Chief's voice carried over the buzz of anticipation.

The cargo ramp opened with a hydraulic whine. A wave of toxic Pandorian air seeped into the shuttle bay, like heat waves off a tar road. The new arrivals began running double time down the ramp toward the compound that would be their new home. They jogged across the exposed apron toward a walkway covered in chain-link, which led to the complex.

On the upper walkway of the OPS center, seen from above, an ununiformed figure gripped the railing, watching the new recruits march through the tunnel below. The hair was clipped short, the scalp etched with long parallel scars where some Pandorian creature's claws had raked across it. The bare arms, beneath tightly rolled sleeves, seemed carved from some hard tropical wood, crisscrossed with scars. The man raised his masked face to the sky, his eyes an icy steel gray.

"You are not in Kansas anymore..."

"You are on Pandora, ladies and gentlemen..." A deep, gravelly voice resonated as footsteps echoed up the floor.

A well-built man clad in snug camo walked through the rows of new arrivals.

"Respect that fact... every second of every day..." Colonel Quaritch raised his hand, pointing out the window toward the shadowy treeline.

"Out beyond that fence, every living thing that crawls, flies, or squats in the mud wants to kill you and eat your eyes for jujubes." The room fell silent, the gravity of his words sinking in.

"We have an indigenous population of humanoids here called the Na'vi. They're fond of arrows dipped in a neurotoxin that can stop your heart in one minute. We operate... we live... at a constant threat condition yellow." Faces of miners, Cat-machine drivers, engineers, and geologists remained stoic as they absorbed the information.

"As head of security, it's my job to keep you alive. I will not succeed," Quaritch paused for effect, turning to survey the new faces.

"Not with all of you," he added.

"If you wish to survive, you need a strong mental attitude. You've got to follow procedure..." Quaritch continued.

'Nothing like an old-school safety brief to put your mind at ease,' A few faces in the crowd smiled softly as they listened.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───