Pandora.
Under the light of the gas giant in the Alpha Centauri system, the lush landscape mirrored Earth's tropical jungles by day, but at night, the ground was bathed in an enchanting blue glow.
The tranquil moonlight shone upon this alien land teeming with life, casting an air of peace.
Over 98% of Pandora still remained covered in its original forest.
Even though outsiders had been working relentlessly to mine the precious Unobtanium beneath Pandora's surface, a mineral deposit comparable in scale to Earth itself was not something a single private company could exploit quickly.
Even if that company was the RDA—Resources Development Administration—the largest single non-governmental organization in human space, boasting millions of shareholders, the oldest and largest quasi-administrative entity in history.
Especially when mining operations were frequently disrupted by attacks from the native Na'vi, efficiency was even lower.
The attrition rate of personnel and equipment was equally high.
Even the mighty RDA found such sustained losses irritating.
Yes, mercenary death benefits were cheap, and replacements could be recruited from the Marine Corps' fourth-tier ranks back on Earth. There was no shortage of people there.
But at 4.2 light-years away, replenishing personnel and losses was far from quick.
Pandora wasn't the only extraterrestrial planet awaiting development by the RDA; for all its resources, the organization had to attend to many fronts.
Though Pandora was perhaps the most important of them.
The Pandora division of the RDA had not been idle in its efforts.
Unfortunately, the war between humans and the Na'vi over a decade ago—sparked by the betrayal of a certain RDA employee—had wiped out decades of off-world development. Countless mining machines and processing plants were destroyed, and landing personnel suffered heavy casualties.
Most heartbreaking for RDA shareholders back on Earth was the loss of millions of tons of processed Unobtanium stored at the Hell's Gate base.
That was real treasure—worth more than gold.
Each kilogram valued at twenty million USD—imagine the scale.
That was my money!
That damn traitor—fine, you're noble! You're remarkable! Returning RDA's captured employees from Pandora to Earth was one thing, but what about that Unobtanium? Couldn't you send that back too?
It was already mined and processed—you can't just put it back underground.
Na'vi: NO!
RDA shareholders: Just you wait!
Thus, fourteen years after being expelled, humanity sent a colonial force to land on Pandora again. Humiliated and heavily damaged, they came in full force. The scale of the colonial military's armament far exceeded anything from before.
There were even hints of the Earth United Government military among them, the discipline fierce.
From the very start, under overwhelming suppression, over a dozen Na'vi tribes were wiped out. In a short time, not only were several new outposts established, but the once-abandoned Hell's Gate base was restored.
This time, neither the RDA nor Earth's leadership entertained any illusions of diplomacy like the previous 'Avatar' project. If the Na'vi wouldn't give it willingly, they would take it by force.
Using multiple outposts as anchors, each supporting the others, personnel and resources from Earth poured in, steadily advancing the colonial development of Pandora.
Such a military presence was beyond what the Na'vi—armed mainly with bows and arrows—could hope to overcome. Attacking human outposts now was nothing more than suicide.
Under this steady yet overwhelming development policy, countless Na'vi were forced to migrate. Among them was the Omaticaya clan.
In the Hallelujah Mountains—a vast range of floating rock formations—the Omaticaya had built their camp.
Deep within the endless floating mountains, their base lay in a massive cavern between the stones. Hidden and secure, the unique magnetic fields here prevented most human aircraft from venturing too far. The true rulers of these skies were the Na'vi's winged mounts—the Banshees.
In the cavern base, tents woven from unknown leaves, wood, and vines were arranged in clusters.
Fires and captured human lighting equipment illuminated the rough stone walls. There were also human aircraft, modular lab units, and other industrial items that clashed with the tribal atmosphere.
Patrolling the camp's perimeter were Na'vi guards clad in a mix of leather armor and human bulletproof vests.
They stood around three meters tall, with blue skin marked by zebra-like stripes that glowed faintly in the dark, as if scattered with starlight.
Facially, they looked quite similar to humans, with the same physique—narrow waists, elongated frames, and broad shoulders forming a V-shaped back.
From an athlete's perspective—especially a swimmer's—their streamlined builds were impressive.
The only obvious difference: each hand had only four fingers. Otherwise, they resembled stretched, enlarged humans.
Some carried sharp long spears, others wielded massive hunting bows taller than a human male, and some even held heavy human firearms, murmuring into radios.
A true blend of the ancient and the modern.
Since humanity's return to Pandora, a year of migration and guerrilla resistance had made them familiar with human weapons and equipment.
"...Huff…"
In a hammock the size of a trampoline, Jake Sully woke from a nightmare, sitting up and breathing heavily.
"Jake, what's wrong?" A gentle female voice came from beside him.
Turning instinctively, he saw a beautiful blue face by human standards, marked with exotic patterns and golden, cat-like eyes watching him.
It was his Na'vi wife—Neytiri, daughter of the former Omaticaya chief, and the greatest honor of his life.
"Is it because of the RDA's actions? Too much pressure?"
Neytiri took Jake's hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, I and the children will be with you." As his wife for over a decade, Neytiri naturally knew much about Earth.
"Jake, if there's a problem, we'll face it together. We are family."
"Thank you, Neytiri." Steeling himself, Jake's gaze flickered briefly before he rose, kissed her forehead, and carefully stepped past the sleeping children. "I'll go patrol for a bit."
"…."
"Chief." ×N
In his nearly three-meter-tall Avatar body, Jake breathed the mix of ammonia, methane, and chlorine in the air as he reached the edge of the cavern, nodding to the patrolling Na'vi warriors. His expression grew complicated as he gazed out at the stunning floating mountains.
"Great Mother Eywa, is this a warning?"
That night, Jake Sully's mind felt trapped in a rapidly spinning blender.
In the dream, a dense darkness surrounded him, nothing visible at all.
Fragmented, blurry images kept flooding into the depths of his mind.
And then came pain—an unbearable pain he could no longer distinguish as physical or spiritual. Perhaps it was Eywa's own pain, for the RDA's reckless exploitation was like tearing one hideous wound after another into Pandora's body.
Next, a chorus of overlapping roars and cries echoed in his ears—human, Na'vi, and countless other creatures of Pandora. Even his nose seemed to catch the overwhelming scent of blood.
Whoosh—!
High-altitude winds battered the massive floating rocks, howling through the night. The chill on his forehead and neck quickly drove away his drowsiness. Controlling his restless heart, Jake relied on his Marine Corps training—at times like this, you stayed calm.
Anger was useless. He wasn't some video game berserker—rage didn't come with a critical hit bonus.
Reaching a high point among the floating mountains, Jake lifted his gaze toward the sky. Brownish-red haze spread across it, accompanied by faint, low growls—an ominous sign before the dark.
No matter how he tried to reassure himself, Jake knew his greatest fear was inevitable: this beautiful planet would soon face the baptism of true war.
Not the skirmish of decades past with a few thousand mercenaries.
And nothing like the low-intensity raids of the past year—guerrilla strikes on human outposts, rail sabotage, train hijackings, and pipeline destruction.
RDA's space operations fell under ICA (Interstellar Commerce Administration) oversight. Organizations like RDA conducting interstellar business were bound by ICA treaties, under United Nations directives, prohibiting weapons of mass destruction and limiting the development of space military forces.
Everyone knew ICA was more like RDA's puppet or fig leaf. Still, it placed restrictions on the deployment of WMDs and many lethal military-grade weapons for private mercenaries.
If RDA's colonial failure on Pandora led ICA to revoke its off-world mining rights… if humanity's leadership lost patience… the result might be Earth's United Government military taking the field themselves.
In that case, the bans on WMDs and military starships would no longer apply.
A fully armed United Government regular army was an entirely different concept from treaty-restricted mercenaries made up of retired soldiers.
If it were possible, Jake might even suggest to the tribal council allowing RDA conditional mining—but there were too many concerns. If RDA took the opportunity to bring in more forces and build more fortresses, what then?
Such were the fears when at an absolute disadvantage—every step like walking on thin ice.
The gap between the Na'vi's tribal society and human civilization was simply too great.
"I have to change this…"
...
Bridgehead Base.
Built after humanity's return to Pandora, it dwarfed the Hell's Gate base established decades ago. Dozens of meters tall, reinforced concrete structures ringed the facility.
On top and beyond the defensive walls, countless deadly weapons stood watch on guard towers.
Seeing the scale of armament here, Jake's worries were understandable. Such large-caliber autocannons and heavy artillery clearly fell under the military restrictions of the treaty.
Either RDA's colonial private security had violated and discarded those restrictions—or… the Earth United Government military had joined the fight.
Amid shouts from ground crews and coordination from the control tower, several triangular-wing spacecraft, each over a hundred meters long, slowly descended.
"All personnel, attention! The ship will land in three minutes!"
After the cold, synthetic female voice announcement—
Following years of long travel, they had finally reached their destination. Someone let out an excited shout.
"Woohoo—! Money planet, new home, here I come!"
"Shut it! I get you're excited, but during landing, keep quiet unless you want to bite your tongue off."
A nearby officer barked at the newcomer.
Landings were bumpy—speaking during it could indeed lead to bitten tongues. A lesson learned in blood.
Another officer strode down the aisle of the spacecraft. "Everyone, put on your filtration packs!"
"Remember, on this planet, without oxygen you'll pass out in 20 seconds and be dead in 4 minutes! I don't want any incidents—it looks bad in my reports!"
"Yes, sir!" ×N
Pssst!
As the turbulence faded, the hiss of the hatch opening signaled the moment they had been waiting for. The newly arrived personnel hurried out—miners, machine operators, engineers, geologists…
Even through their masks, they curiously surveyed their surroundings.
Even the soldiers couldn't help but feel intrigued by this new world—potentially humanity's second home.
"Hey, what's that? Those arrows must be nearly two meters long."
Not far from the runway, a massive ore transport convoy passed by. Most striking were the giant arrows with colorful fletching lodged in the two-meter-wide tires.
If one of those, thicker than a thumb, hit a person—body armor might not be enough.
"Rookies, no matter how good you were on Earth, here on Pandora you're just green recruits! Everything in the forest can kill you—the prettier it looks, the deadlier it is."
"And those arrows? Biggest obstacle to our work. The handiwork of the blue-skinned natives. Poisoned—don't touch them. This neurotoxin will stop your heart in under a minute. Consider this a friendly warning from your seniors. Good luck, rookies!"
A grizzled veteran grinned, giving the newcomers a grim bit of survival advice.
"Hahaha, alright… ladies and gentlemen, you're on Pandora now. This is a fact you'll respect every second of every day."
Then came a booming voice.
People turned. "You're…" Amid startled looks, a towering, three-meter-tall, blue-skinned humanoid walked over.
These were trained elites—though shocked, they didn't panic.
After all, this was a human base, surrounded by heavily armed troops. The blue alien wore body armor, spoke English, and carried a soldier's presence—likely the result of some experimental program.
Black buzzcut, yellow eyes, a lemur-like tail, and a one-meter-long braid-like organ trailing from the back of his head.
In his reborn Avatar body, Colonel Miles Quaritch ignored their stares. The scene reminded him of his days at Hell's Gate, handling new recruit orientations.
Back then, as head of security, this had been his job. Feeling a familiar itch, he raised a hand and pointed beyond the defensive wall to the dark forest.
"Out there, every crawling, flying, or burrowing thing wants to kill you and eat your eyes like candy."
His gaze swept over the newcomers.
"The locals—a humanoid species called Na'vi. They're smart. If you encounter them, don't show mercy. Otherwise… you'll end up like this."
Quaritch pointed at his own face in self-mockery.
Vrrrmmm—!
As silence fell and his words sank in, the roar of massive engines suddenly ripped through the sky.
"Hm?" People looked up to see dozens of large gunships painted in gray-blue patterns approaching the airport at a blistering 2,000 km/h, breaking the sound barrier.
Newly deployed equipment?
Quaritch thought so—it had to be.
Could it be the Na'vi? Impossible. If they had this level of tech, they'd all be dead already.
And the base's defense turrets remained idle, clearly granting landing clearance.
Time to see what new developments had arrived.
—
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