- Manhattan Island, the ruins of Old New York. Rain pounded the armored glass of the limousine, behind which the silhouettes of skyscrapers swept past, disappearing into the low clouds. Silence reigned inside, broken only by the barely audible hum of the engines. Captain John Price looked at his reflection in the glass. Gray stubble, wrinkles around his eyes, harbouring the memory of dozens of operations, and a cold, steely gaze. The same gaze that had seen death in jungles, deserts, and snowy passes. But now that gaze was fixed on a world confined to the window and the carriage. The explosion in Kabul had taken more than his legs. "Project Aliens." Full consciousness transfer into a synthetic avatar body grown from the combined genome of a recombinant donor and recipient. Success rate: 78%. Risk of failure: 15%. Mortality: 7%. The numbers flickered before his eyes. He had passed every conceivable test. His will, his psyche, had been deemed "perfectly suited." For him, this wasn't a scientific breakthrough, but a last chance. The only way out of the cage his own flesh had trapped him in.
Day X. Orion Facility, Earth orbit.
"Your avatar body is based on the genome of Pandora's indigenous Na'vi, with enhanced neural connections and muscular structure," the technician's voice was indifferent. "It is stronger, more resilient, and perfectly adapted to Pandora's atmosphere. Your task is to infiltrate the Omaticaya tribe, gain their trust, and assess their combat potential as... allies or threats." "Allies." Price chuckled to himself. He knew the Resources Development Administration didn't need allies, but scouts. To discover the weaknesses of those who were able to repel the Earthlings' machines. The capsule closed. Cold. Darkness. The sensation of falling through layers of one's own self. Memories emerged in fragments: earth, screams, pain... and then—the smell. Sweet, floral, unfamiliar. And a heaviness in his lungs. He opened his eyes. He was greeted by the blinding light of two moons and countless eyes in the darkness. Giant ferns rustled overhead. He felt the damp earth beneath... his feet. He looked down. Long blue legs. Looking down at his hands, he saw four fingers on each. His muscles obediently tensed. He took a step. He took a step himself. It was like a second birth. He inhaled deeply, and the air that would have made an ordinary person's lungs ache felt like the nectar of freedom. Price quickly adapted. His combat experience and survival skills, combined with the capabilities of his new body, made him a formidable hunter. He found the Omaticaya. The integration process was slow and difficult. The tribe's warriors, like the younger ones, greeted him with distrust. But Price was patient. He didn't try to dominate. He observed. He learned. He demonstrated his mastery of hunting and tactics. They nicknamed him "Teruon," meaning "Unbreakable Trunk," for his incredible fortitude and composure in battle. He understood the divine essence of Eywa and the unity of all living things. And for the first time in many years, something other than duty and the desire for freedom appeared in his soul, honed like a combat knife. Respect appeared. Reverence for this world. That's when everything went downhill. After all, how could one fall in love with another being, knowing that the shell of one's body was not real? Her fighting spirit and beauty, harmoniously blended with the wondrous plants, seemed so indescribable that ordinary women from Earth seemed mere mice in comparison. It was she, Evie, who became the center of this big and incomprehensible world for him.