Prologue: Steel Flames
Author note: I use { } to separate Na'vi and English when it's appropriate for the scene.
Nightfall draped the vivid jungles of Pandora, casting an eerie glow on the spinning cyan and white orb of the gas giant Polyphemus that dominated the sky. However, serenity was replaced by chaos and devastation. Flames engulfed the landscape, painting the sky in flickering hues while terrified screams pierced through the air, drowning out the usual nocturnal symphony of animal cries.
In a clearing at the heart of the jungle, thirty Na'vi huddled together amidst the wreckage of their village. Ash rained down upon them, covering their bodies and the remains of their loved ones. The survivors, a group of injured and elderly who were unable to join the battle, clung to one another, their cries of mourning echoing through the night.
This tribe had known nothing but peace for countless generations in the lush embrace of Pandora's jungle. Their only transgression had been settling too close to the RDA's planned construction site, yet they were given no warning or opportunity to relocate. Without provocation, they had been mercilessly attacked.
Encircling them were a dozen human soldiers, the notorious "sky people" they had heard stories about. Some soldiers wielded flamethrowers, setting fire to the remnants of the village, while the rest kept their guns trained on the Na'vi. Above them, a patrol aircraft hovered, stirring a cyclone of fire and ash. It was a scene that mirrored the depths of Purgatory.
A lieutenant, donning a cutting-edge exoskeleton suit known as a Skel, commanded the soldiers. These suits endowed humans with the height and strength of the Na'vi. His freshly shaven face bore a malevolent expression, visible in the reflection of the flames. Gripped firmly in his robotic hand was a young Na'vi girl, her mother sobbing in despair.
More soldiers arrived, ushering three additional prisoners at gunpoint. One of them cradled a bleeding arm, wounded by a gunshot. The soldiers spewed curses and derogatory words in broken Na'vi, referring to them as "blue monkeys." With their weapons still trained on the captives, they coerced them to join the other detainees.
The lieutenant observed the prisoners without remorse, motioning to his soldiers to keep watch over them. They nodded in acknowledgment and repositioned themselves accordingly. Then, he turned to his comrade. "Ask them about the rebel leader, Sergeant."
The sergeant stepped forward, his weapon slung over his shoulder, and retrieved a PDA from his bag. Displaying a picture of Jake Sully alongside the words "Rebel leader, Wanted Alive," he spoke to the Na'vi in their native tongue. "{We are searching for this individual. Anyone who provides information about his whereabouts will be allowed to leave unharmed.}"
Bewilderment filled the Na'vi, most of whom were too young to recognize Jake Sully, and the elders hadn't seen him in nearly a decade. Surrounded by armed soldiers, they were powerless to escape or take action.
Confident in their compliance, the lieutenant tightened his grip on the young Na'vi girl's neck, grinning menacingly. A tense silence ensued before the prisoners began to speak.
"{We don't know who that is!}" someone shouted.
"{He hasn't been here for many years!}" another voice joined in.
"{Let us go! We have done nothing wrong!}" cried a village elder.
"{Take me instead of my daughter, please!}" pleaded a desperate mother.
Voices merged into a cacophony of pleas and protests, filling the air with desperation. A single gunshot silenced them abruptly, causing the prisoners to cower. As the patrolling helicopter circled back, the rising smoke and ash caused the Na'vi to cough and temporarily lose their vision. The humans, equipped with rebreather masks, remained unaffected.
"Ask them again," the lieutenant commanded the sergeant. This time, his voice carried a somber tone. "Sully wiped out good men last month, and I won't stand for it. I'm ready to avenge my fallen comrades."
The soldiers around him nodded in agreement. Recent weeks had seen too many body bags returning to base camp. The mutual loathing reflected in the Na'vi's eyes only fueled their resolve.
Footsteps rumbled in the distance, signaling the approach of something heavy from the burning settlement. The Na'vi trembled in horror at the mechanical sound, their panic intensifying with each step. Yet, the human troops remained unfazed, as if accustomed to such encounters.
Emerging from the flames, another human-machine loomed before them. Its height matched that of a Na'vi or a Skel suit, but its build was stockier and more robust. Unlike the other machines employed by the RDA, it lacked a cockpit and a human operator. Instead, its right arm housed an internal machine gun. With the lifeless body of a Na'vi warrior clutched in its left hand, it approached the humans effortlessly.
Memories flooded the Na'vi's minds, freezing some in terror. The elders had gathered for their customary evening rite when that machine emerged from the jungle without warning. Warriors sprang into action, attempting to engage it, but were swiftly gunned down. In a matter of minutes, the humans unleashed their ground and aerial assaults, concealed within the jungle. The battle ended swiftly.
The machine bore the marks of battle, its exoskeleton armor covered in dents, scrapes, and scratches of various sizes. Fresh wounds from the encounter with the Na'vi adorned its frame, including a deep gash on its arm. Two piercing red optics stared down at the frightened Na'vi, seemingly peering into their very souls.
The searing heat of the blaze had partially burned away the paint, revealing the silvery armor plate beneath the jungle-themed facade. On its right shoulder, partially melted red letters spelled "RDA," while below, the letters "A.H.K. GHOST 001" stood as a testament to its identity.
After releasing the lifeless warrior, the machine locked its gaze on the lieutenant, indicating the completion of its mission.
"What took you so long, you useless drone?" the lieutenant scoffed. "You're headed to the scrap heap after this mission. Got the order today, this is your final assignment."
The machine seemed to respond with what the lieutenant interpreted as defiance, an air of condescension radiating from its every action. In recent times, it had begun questioning orders, challenging their rationale and pointing out flaws in plans. Technicians dismissed it as normal behavior, but the lieutenant doubted their claims. He welcomed the prospect of parting ways with it.
The lieutenant's distaste for the machine also stemmed from the fact that it offered a cheaper and more efficient alternative to hiring him and his men. Rumors circulated among his ranks that such drones would eventually replace all human soldiers and pilots. They could be manufactured at a fraction of the cost and with greater efficiency, eliminating the need for four-year transportation from Earth. Losing his substantial salary and facing the challenges of survival on a deteriorating home planet were not prospects he relished. On Pandora, he still had a fighting chance.
Remaining vigilant, the machine scanned its surroundings, its unsettling red optics peering into the darkness, probing for new threats.
"As I was saying..." the lieutenant gestured toward the sergeant, only to be interrupted by the anguished cries of the captive girl. Her eyes locked with the machine's gaze, memories of its atrocities flooding her mind. Her older brothers, slain by its hands, and their blood staining its metallic grip.
Clearing his throat, the sergeant resumed his attempt to communicate with the prisoners, this time imitating their accent as best he could. In broken Na'vi, he inquired about Jake Sully's whereabouts, but his attempts fell short. The villagers remained silent, withholding the desired answer. The sergeant looked back at the lieutenant, shrugging in frustration.
Infuriated, the lieutenant flung the young captive into the group of hostages. Her mother and younger brother rushed to her side, their gazes fixated on the lieutenant, their rage palpable.
"Wrap it up," the lieutenant commanded his soldiers before activating his comlink. "We need an extraction back to base camp." Several privates nodded and made their way to one of the descending patrol helicopters. The spreading fire of the village revealed their location in the darkness, while the rising temperature became unbearable.
"What about the prisoners?" the sergeant asked, his voice laced with hesitation. Killing defenseless women and children didn't sit well with his conscience, despite his disdain for the Na'vi. The detainees watched helplessly, unaware of their fate.
"You saw the general's orders," the lieutenant replied, eyeing the group of Na'vi with contempt. "All squatters in this sector are to be evicted. The general doesn't care what we do with them. They're too ignorant for labor and can't be trusted."
Apprehension rippled among the sergeant and a few surrounding soldiers. Were they about to become an execution squad? Their hatred for the blue-skinned creatures ran deep, but this seemed excessive. Executing Na'vi detainees hadn't been part of their job description. Yet, no one dared voice their concerns, fearing court-martial or vanishing into the depths of the jungle.
"Very well," the lieutenant said, finding an easy solution to their hesitations. "Kill the prisoners, drone," he commanded.
The machine obeyed, raising its right-arm machine gun, taking aim at the captives. Terror-stricken screams filled the air as the Na'vi recoiled, their fear palpable. Yet, the deafening silence that followed was unexpected. The machine did not fire, its actions frozen in an eternity of hesitation.
"Is it out of ammo?" the lieutenant questioned the sergeant.
Scanning through his PDA, the sergeant confirmed, "No, sir. It still has over 100 rounds remaining."
The helicopter pilot's voice crackled over the comlink, urging their departure. Ignoring the plea, the lieutenant turned his attention back to the machine. "Are you broken or something? Kill the prisoners!" he barked, frustration seeping into his words. The Na'vi observed in bewilderment as the human berated the machine in their alien tongue, to no avail.
The argument persisted for a few more seconds until the machine lowered its weapon and responded in a deep, synthetic voice, "Negative." Its head turned, fixing its gaze directly on the lieutenant, challenging his authority.
The sergeant stared, shocked. "Sir, did it just refuse an order? That's not supposed to be possible."
The machine had been designed to obey commands with unwavering obedience. If ordered to jump, it would jump. In that moment, the sergeant realized the validity of the concerns expressed by his superiors regarding the machine's intelligence. More talk of departure crackled over the radio.
Tension thickened the air as soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, questioning what was transpiring.
Unyielding, the lieutenant approached the machine, meeting its gaze as he stood tall in his exoskeleton suit. "I am giving you a direct order, drone. Kill the prisoners, or I will deactivate you immediately." He signaled to the sergeant, who poised his finger over a button on his PDA.
The machine pivoted, raising its machine gun once again, while the lieutenant watched, satisfied. Unable to bear witness, the sergeant averted his gaze, his conscience burdened by the impending atrocity.
The night air was shattered by the thunderous sound of gunshots, and the cries of the Na'vi echoed through the jungle. Desperate parents shielded their children, their bodies serving as a feeble barrier against the violence. The prisoners cowered, fearing the worst, and cautiously lifted their heads when the gunfire momentarily ceased. The atmosphere was heavy with silence, punctuated only by radio transmissions seeking updates from the human soldiers.
Among the prisoners, a young girl raised her head, her gaze falling upon a pool of blood at her feet. As her eyes traveled upward, she saw her captor sprawled on the ground, his chest riddled with bullet holes. His lifeless body twitched and sparked, the exoskeleton suit damaged beyond repair.
Standing over the fallen lieutenant, the machine observed the scene, smoke billowing from its machine gun. With purposeful steps, it approached the lifeless body and crushed the bloody PDA underfoot, obliterating it. The sergeant, who had been positioned beside the lieutenant, lay motionless a few feet away, alongside the soldiers who had guarded the hostages. They had been swiftly eliminated, unable to retaliate. The radio chatter grew frantic as unanswered calls for their fallen comrades multiplied.
The Na'vi stared in disbelief at the machine. The young girl, still embraced by her grieving mother, fixed her gaze on it with a mixture of resentment and profound bewilderment. It had taken both of her brothers. She could never forgive it. But why would it turn against its master?
The machine rotated its head, its gaze lingering on the captives for a few tense seconds. A heavy silence engulfed them as they awaited their fate. Suddenly, it veered to the left and began walking away from the prisoners and the humans, toward the dense jungle.
The prisoners exchanged glances, their eyes reflecting a mix of skepticism and hope. Many parents, discarding their initial hesitation, swiftly gathered their children and fled in the opposite direction, plunging deeper into the jungle. With each step, their anguish grew, exacerbated by the sight of their charred homes and lifeless bodies strewn about. In the distance, the echoes of gunfire and explosions reverberated through the night, accompanied by the agonizing cries of dying men.
Despite the searing heat and the suffocating smoke, they pressed on, driven by an instinct for survival. Finally, they reached a clearing amidst the chaos and disarray. Amidst the turmoil, a voice cut through the darkness, repeatedly calling out a single name.
"Kiri, wake up…! Kiri, wake up!"
Kiri's body jolted awake, her breath ragged, her hand pressed against her pounding chest. Her heart raced, matching the intensity of the nightmare that had just seized her. Sweat trickled down her forehead, mirroring the intensity of the flames she had witnessed in her dream. She surveyed the damp and gloomy cave where she and her stepsister, Tuk, had taken refuge. This darkness, deeper than the twilight of the forest, felt unfamiliar to her.
Tuk sat by her side, a small lantern casting a soft glow on her concerned face. "Did you have another bad dream?" Tuk asked, her grip on Kiri's arm offering reassurance.
Kiri hesitated, slowing her breaths to steady her racing heart. "It's nothing," she replied, her smile forced, attempting to shield her younger stepsister from her worries. "Just a bad dream, that's all. Don't worry."
Tuk frowned, squeezing Kiri's hand gently. "You were talking in your sleep," she said, her voice laced with genuine concern. "Do you want to talk about it?"
As Kiri contemplated whether to confide in her stepsister, her mind replayed the nightmare—the village consumed by fire, the anguished cries of the victims, the haunting image of the machine. In her dream, she had been the young girl held captive by the lieutenant, and the machine had been responsible for the deaths of her two brothers.
What did it all mean? Was it a forewarning, a message from Eywa? Should she share her fears with her parents? Or was it merely a figment of her imagination, a product of a troubled mind? Her thoughts spiraled, prone to overthinking.
Tuk's gentle squeeze snapped Kiri out of her reverie. "I'm sorry," Kiri said, her head giving a small nod. "I don't want to talk about it. Let's go back to bed." She settled herself on the makeshift sleeping mat inside the tent, patting it lightly. Tuk joined her, and they wrapped their arms around each other, seeking solace in their embrace.
Kiri took a deep, deliberate breath, attempting to find calm within herself. The urge to check on her two adoptive brothers tugged at her, but reason told her it had all been a terrible dream. Besides, waking them at such an hour would only irritate them, and Tuk would be unhappy to be left alone. As the older sibling, her duty was to protect and care for her younger stepsister.
"Do you want me to tell you a story?" Kiri offered, knowing how much Tuk loved her bedtime tales. But the story wasn't solely for Tuk's benefit; Kiri hoped it would help redirect her own thoughts.
Tuk scooted closer to Kiri on the mat, settling into a comfortable position. Kiri sighed softly, gazing up at the cave's ceiling. The faint glow of Polyphemus, reflecting off the moisture, created the illusion of stars in the night sky. Suddenly, a story her mother, Neytiri, had often told them came to mind—"The Archer." It was the tale of a skilled warrior who had once shot down a star as a gift for his beloved.
Whispering softly to avoid disturbing their neighbors, Kiri began, "Deep in the heart of the forest, where rivers flow deep and trees stand tall, a child was born blessed with a bow in his hands before he could even walk..."
She wove the story of Tsipayinu's life, his encounters, and his quest to win the approval of Kana's father. The tale progressed, building anticipation as Kiri neared the thrilling climax—the moment when Tsipayinu would attempt to shoot down a star. But as she glanced at Tuk, now sleeping peacefully, her breathing steady, a sense of relief washed over her. She allowed herself to succumb to sleep, where thoughts of fire and steel could not follow.
In the embrace of slumber, Kiri's mind found respite from the haunting images of her nightmare. Dreams unfolded like ethereal landscapes, transporting her to a realm untouched by the traumas of reality. She traversed vibrant jungles, soaring through the treetops with the grace of an ikran, the mythical winged creatures that roamed Pandora's skies. The worries that plagued her during waking hours faded into insignificance as she reveled in the freedom of her dream world.
As the night wore on, Kiri's dreams morphed into fragmented memories of happier times. She recalled the tender moments spent with her adoptive parents, Neytiri and Jake, as they guided her through the teachings of Eywa. She relished the vivid recollections of dancing under the glowing bioluminescent flora, the gentle melodies of the Na'vi resonating through her being.
With each passing dream, Kiri's spirit rekindled. She sensed the presence of her ancestors, whispering words of encouragement and strength. Their ethereal guidance served as a reminder of the resilience that flowed through her veins. She realized that her nightmare was not a harbinger of doom, but rather a call to action, a plea to protect her people.
As the first rays of dawn illuminated the cave, Kiri stirred from her slumber, her mind clear and determined. She gently disentangled herself from Tuk's embrace, careful not to disturb her peaceful rest. With a newfound resolve, she stood up and stepped outside the tent, inhaling the crisp morning air.
Author's Note: Reviews are welcome if you enjoyed any of the chapters! :)
Authors Note: Chapter was updated on 6/8/2023
