Author's Note: This is my own take on Parker's fate on Earth. It's a little twisted, I know, but I couldn't help myself. Enjoy.
11. A Final Avatar
Earth Year: 2160 AD. 5 Years After Final Contact. Arrival of ISV Venture Star in Earth Orbit.
For him, only moments had passed since that terrible day. He could still smell the scent of death about him, the tang of the Pandoran air that had saturated his clothing. Failure clung to him stronger than any other thing, firmly attached to every facial expression, every thought pouring through whatever remnants of sanity remained in his mind. Fear gripped Parker's heart, the ramifications of all that had happened coming down on him in that single moment between cryogenic awakening and full consciousness.
Some small corner of the Administrator's mind registered that no one had sabotaged his cryo tube in transit, a thing he might have actually welcomed at this juncture. Dead, the Company could do him no harm, but alive, there was much they could do. Armed men knocked on the chamber door, motioning him out of the womb-like contraption, away from relative safety.
"You are to follow us, sir." The first soldier ordered without the slightest hint of emotion. These were businessmen of a different sort, the kind that measured success in body count instead of profit-and-loss statements. These were people who would happily shoot him just for the sheer amusement of it. It had been an unofficial Company policy to hire only the worst sort of people out of the military factions of Earth. Decorated, respected veterans were routinely overlooked in favor of the rarer, but more useful, aggressive psychopaths.
Such men asked fewer questions about the Company's dirty work, after all, and some of them truly enjoyed their jobs, like that idiot Quaritch. They were also cheaper, but RDA's tight budgets hadn't helped much on Pandora. A modern jet fighter or two would have taken care of everything, but no, the Company couldn't have spared that expense. Some small corner of Parker's mind realized that he, too, had fallen into the Company mold. Had he not been in such a hurry to get to the unobtainium deposits, perhaps things could have been thought through a little better. It was the closest he had ever come to admitting his own failures.
"Where are we going?" He asked simply.
"Headquarters. The President asked for you personally." The officer stated without any hint of emotion.
Parker's mind was a wreck as he pulled himself along the connecting cables to the outer airlock, following the soldiers with just a twinge of fear. They wouldn't kill him here, in front of everyone else, where the news media could pick up on it. No, if he was to be 'Sanctioned,' it would be elsewhere, further out of sight.
Sanctions were once an administrative form of punishment, designed to financially ruin, denying the ex-employee a job at any of the other large corporations, blacklisting them forever. Loans would be denied, property would be confiscated and typically the Sanctioned would just crawl off into a hole somewhere and die, wind up living on the streets, or take their own lives. Company policy had changed these last few decades, however, taking a much more proactive approach. The Sanctioned often simply disappeared or went completely bat-shit crazy, and if anyone on Earth noticed, evidence would be provided assuring the public that the employee committed suicide out of guilt over the failure. Some asked questions, of course, but money handled most of the idealists. Threat of Sanction kept even the most obnoxious employees in line.
Valkyrie fifteen disconnected from the massive starship, angling towards RDA headquarters, the largest space station in Earth orbit. It was certainly a lot easier to keep your employees in line when you were no longer bound by the laws of Earth governments. The station was enormously expensive, relying on the critical unobtainium for power relays from its fusion core. Just the raw material value of the station exceed the GDP of half of the nations on Earth. It certainly made for a great Company advertisement, a sign of financial health that probably no longer existed in the wake of recent events.
"Come with us." A soldier waved his rifle, forcing the Administrator through the airlock at gun point. Artificial gravity had kicked in slowly as they worked their way through the transit hub into the habitation ring. RDA Headquarters had been designed on the old centrifugal hub and spoke principle, allowing docking in the relatively stable, zero-g axis, using mag-lev transit elevators to deliver men and materials to the .5g outer ring. Something close to ten square miles of habitable space existed within the ring, allowing for a veritable city in space.
"No, elevators one and two are down, we will be using three." The guard directed him to the sole functional tube. As if to punctuate the statement, sparks flew from behind the tube doors of elevator one, charring the once-pristine metal surface.
Parker half expected to still see the immaculate offices of Headquarters, staffed with only the best and brightest, overseeing the Company's vast empire in space and on land. The station could support nearly ten thousand, consisting of great apartment complexes, company offices and in the center of it all, the spire marking Executive Block, the true heart of RDA.
The place was practically abandoned. Half of the structures within the Ring were dark, powerless and no longer functioning. Some structures actually showed evidence of burning and graffiti, something that would have been unthinkable during any other time. Executive Block still shown with blazing light, though, and as he entered, he expected to see at least a reduced workforce working diligently to restore RDA's fortunes.
Things had fallen apart here too, however. Men and women scurried back and forth with boxes, computers and file folders. Discarded papers drifted along the air-circulation currents, trash was piled up everywhere. There were actual bullet holes in some offices, burnt out cubicles and bloodstains marring the surface of what should have been the great administrative offices of the Company. Lights flickered on and off in many areas, sparks lighting up from several ill-maintained power cords jury-rigged over the abandoned cubicles.
"What the hell happened here?" Parker asked as the soldiers escorted him through the mayhem.
"Layoffs. Some riots. Someone smuggled in a rifle. It wasn't pretty." The first soldier stated dispassionately. The RDA signage over the executive area lay askew on the ground, burn marks scarring the surface. That no one had replaced the sign boded ill for the Company's future.
"President Raines will see you now." The officer waved his gun absently at Parker, making brief eye contact. In a moment of weakness, the military man exposed his own deep-seated fear. Even such a hard man had to have a family somewhere, or at least a need to feed himself. Times had been bad even when he had left for Pandora, now they were obviously truly disastrous. The guards didn't even bother following him in.
In here, at least, it was still luxurious and pristine, an island of wealth in a sea of poverty. Persian rugs framed a mahogany desk, lifted from Earth at enormous expense. Behind, an actual Picasso painting graced the wall, anchoring a set of equally valuable works from every corner of the globe. Banks of holo-band monitors were everywhere, each tuned in to one of Earth's reporting services, streaming live Internet data. Chaos was everywhere, burning cities, rioting people on the brink of starvation, brush wars threatening to explode into nuclear conflict.
In the center of this island of luxury was President Raines, an old and graying figure who somehow still bore a certain aura of raw power no amount of age could fully erase. Lines were etched on his face, the product of decades of frowns and scowling. His piercing blue eyes shone brightly with barely restrained malice, anger seething underneath the seemingly calm and collected exterior. Parker visibly gulped.
"Parker Selfridge. Do you remember what I told you in this office fifteen years ago?"
"Yes sir, I do."
"Well let's go over it again, shall we?" Raines began, his gruff voice echoing oddly in the relative silence. "Keep the supply of unobtainium flowing, and you will receive great reward and an appointment to the Board in due time. Fail, and there will be Sanctions."
"Yes sir, but..." Parker began, but the old man interrupted him angrily.
"But you let your dog Quaritch off his leash and started an interstellar war with a bunch of savages instead." Raines stated, his expression telling Parker in no uncertain terms that there would be no arguing on this point. "No matter. Your death will not be necessary at this time."
"I don't understand?" Parker nonetheless breathed a sigh of relief. There might be some hope of saving his skin yet. Perhaps some of the other survivors had told different tales? Maybe the Company wouldn't pin him with all the blame, after all, hadn't it been Quaritch who had done the real damage? Even as adept as he was at lying to himself, Parker couldn't make himself believe it. He had never wanted to kill women, children or even the damn trees, but profit was profit, and he had wanted that seat on the Board so badly. For a moment he almost tasted it, the path of promotion that might have led him to the very seat Raines presently occupied. But it was all a nightmare now, the only thing he would receive with any degree of certainty would be terrible dreams and lingering guilt for the rest of his life, however long that would prove to be.
"The Company has filed for bankruptcy protection from the United States government." Raines announced, that bombshell dropping like a Valkyrie piercing the atmosphere. "Extra-solar operations have been terminated, effective immediately. Believe me, it was difficult not to simply Sanction you out of the nearest airlock for your incompetence, but times have changed." Something in the President's voice conveyed just how much he would relish such an event.
"Then why am I here?"
"The Board has decided on a more appropriate Sanction for you." Raines smiled sadistically, and Parker knew immediately that he was in for something uniquely terrible.
"For once the Board and I agreed on something. According to inbound transmissions from ISV Capital Star, still in transit behind you, this Jake Sully in your Avatar program found a way to permanently transfer his consciousness into his Avatar. Some of our scientists thought there might be value in this, and as it stands now the bio-research division is the only profit-center left." Raines explained almost gleefully.
"So we used DNA from your last Company physical to set up a little experiment. Yours will be the first test of the new mental-transference technology we have developed. If it fails, we are only less a single fool. But if it succeeds, imagine the profit in being able to grow replacement bodies for the wealthy. Of course, they will have proper human bodies grown for them. For you, we have something much more appropriate."
Parker could say nothing, frozen in inaction, fear creeping up his spine. The President stood up, hands clasped behind his back as he began to pace, toying with the holo-band monitors. An image formed on the holo-screens, a massive Na'vi body with a face that was not unlike Parker's own. The Administrator could hardly even speak, somehow knowing exactly what fate had been planned for him. Company Sanctions had a reputation for being a uniquely tailored form of punishment, a terrible thing reserved for only the worst offenders.
"Perhaps you will enjoy living in the body of a savage, but I doubt it. Imagine a lifetime without any sex, with mocking laughter from every street corner. Certainly, everyone will recognize you as humanity's biggest joke, no matter where you choose to go. You will never be able to hide from your failures." Raines laughed, calling in the guards once again. "Parker Selfridge, you are hereby terminated from RDA employment effective immediately. Sanctions are pending."
"Take him away." Raines smiled, sitting back in his chair. The soldier's face registered a certain amount of compassion, unusual for a grunt, but Parker knew the man would do his duty. Even though it was a physical impossibility over the distance of several light years, Parker could swear he heard Jake Sully's roaring laughter in the back of mind. The irony of it all couldn't be greater.