Grace Augustine

After Jake Sully, a crippled Marine sent from Earth to replace his dead brother on a research project, was given the possible rules and things he should know, so after introductions, Jake found himself meeting another member of the project, Norm Spellman, and as the two introduced themselves, standing already in the area where their avatars were in what looked like cradles, Jake wordlessly rolled over to the other side of the tank where his Avatar was. 

The Avatar's deep heartbeat filled his ears like a lullaby, and his sleeping face turned towards him as he floated inside, just like Norm's Avatar, he had feline ears and a long, wild snout, but his features made him a spitting image of his brother.

"Looks like him," Jake whispered, stretching his head to the side, his cerulean eyes reflected the icy blue glow of the tank, lit with pure awe and wonder, to think that a stray like him could even comprehend such a sacred experience felt like a sin in itself.

"No," Norm leaned in beside him. "He looks just like you."

"This is your avatar now, Jake."

"And the concept is that each driver is paired with their avatar, so their nervous systems are in sync. Or something." Jake spoke into a stereo camera for his first video recording at the complex. 

"That's why he was offered this job because he can bond with Tom's avatar, which is incredibly expensive." His brows furrowed together for a moment, then, he looked off-camera to where Norm and Max were standing as they worked on a holographic display.

"Hey, is this right?" He asked. "I just say what I want on these video logs?"

"Yes. You have to get in the habit of documenting everything, what you see, what you feel, it's all part of the science..." Norm waved his hands.

Max held up an index finger.

"Good science is good observation."

"... Besides, it'll keep you sane for the next six years."

"Whew," Jake puffed out his cheeks and lowered his head. Six years, huh? It was a good chunk of anyone's life expectancy, but considering the twelve-year round trip, it was relatively short, massaging the back of his neck, he straightened up again. "All right, here I am, doing science."

The Marine looked around the lab.

"I guess I'm kind of a scientist too, now," said Jake, looking around the lab, knowing that this would be a second chance for him, one he wasn't about to pass up. 

_______

_______

Dr. Grace Augustine, director of the Avatar program, was not happy to meet Tom's replacement for the next six years, emerging from her unit in the link room, a machine connecting her to her avatar, with a migraine added to this full-blown headache, she could express enthusiasm to Norm and Max as fellow biologists, but she could not welcome a trigger-happy Marine into her esteemed group of researchers, and in an Avatar corps, no less.

"I don't need you," he spoke firmly to Jake, who could only return the animosity with a scowl, I need your brother, you know, the Ph.D. who trained for three years for this mission?"

"Well, he's dead," Jake pursed his lips, his steely gaze never wavering as he added this bitterly.

"I know it's a huge inconvenience for everyone, but things happen."

Grace sighed, she had heard the news, but she was in a bind, she needed an experienced scientist, not another army dog whose presence infested the compound with the stench of sweat and gun smoke, not to mention, the testosterone-induced urge to pull her guns on everything. There were as many docile creatures as there were aggressive ones in Pandora's desert.

"How much lab training have you had?" asked Grace, receiving a not-so-pleasant response; "I dissected a frog once," said Jake as he shrugged.

"You'll see, you'll see? We're being intentionally screwed, I'm going to Selfridge" said Grace angrily, then stormed out of the link room, much to Max's dismay, who ran after her in a frenzy.

"I don't think that's a good idea-"

"No, man, this is bullshit!" Grace turned around briefly but kept marching. "I'm going to kick your corporate ass, you don't have to stick your nose in my flat" Max ran his hands through his hair as he walked towards Jake, everything was coming together perfectly.

"Here tomorrow, 0800. Try using big words."

Grace took long strides towards the intelligence operations center, it was like any other air traffic control tower, but with miniature golf mats on the floor, a short, thin guy in a dress shirt was playing with a new putter. 

"Parker, you know, I used to think it was benign neglect," Grace began, turning to him with a frown. "But now I see you're intentionally fucking with me." 

"Grace, you know, I enjoy our little chats." Selfridge held the putter in both hands as she focused on the ball between her feet, she tapped it gently, but before the ball could go in, the doctor kicked the glass aside and folded her arms. 

"Oops," Grace held her arms behind her back, he stared at her, disgruntled, his chin-length red curls bobbing along with his head as he spoke heatedly. 

"I need an investigator, not jarhead abandonment." 

"Well, actually, I thought we got lucky with him." The woman shot him an odd look as he stepped forward to retrieve the ball.

"Lucky?" 

"Yes."

"How is this somehow lucky?" 

"Lucky your boy had a twin brother, and lucky that brother wasn't an oral hygienist or something, a marine we can use" Selfridge never gave her a look as he walked over to an assistant and handed her the ball and putter, "I'm assigning him to your team as a security escort" Grace followed with a shake of her head, pointing at the ground in frustration for emphasis.

"The last thing I need is another trigger-happy asshole out there!" She walked over to a holographic map and clicked the controls.

"Look, look, you're supposed to win the hearts and minds of the natives - isn't that the point of your little puppet show?" The man may not have been great, but his eager ruthlessness made up for that missing department. 

"If you look like them and talk like them, they'll begin to trust us, we'll build them a school, and teach them English, but after what, how many years?" Selfridge turned to the doctor, exasperated with his lively attitude. 

"Relations with the Indians are only getting worse." Grace nodded before adding this, point-blank. "Yes, that tends to happen when you use machine guns on them." 

"Right. Come here," he motioned for her to follow him with a wave of his index finger, marching quickly into his office, he walked over to a magnetic screen with a shiny, metallic rock floating above it, picked it up, and held it close to his face.

"That's why we're here because this little gray rock sells for twenty million a kilo, that's the only reason, that's what pays for the whole party." 

You could never talk to someone like Selfridge unless you had 'millions' or 'billions' in your prayers. Maybe if the death toll rose to those numbers, you might finally wonder what you were doing wrong. "It's what your science pays for," he pointed out angrily. He placed the stone back on the magnetic screen and pulled a chair back to sit on it.

"Understood? Now, those savages are threatening our entire operation, we're on the brink of war, and you're supposed to find a diplomatic solution." 

Grace could only scoff; "Diplomatic solution? Do you know how absurd that sounds, after you yourselves have stopped and thwarted my advances?" 

"Grace, just use what you have and get some results," Selfridge commented lightly. 

"Yeah, right, you weren't the ones who lost millions on research subjects, nor were you the ones who saw your project stalled for years because some scumbags were playing shotguns with Pandora's most dangerous tribes." 

"Look, I know what happened, and I'm sorry, but that's it, we have to move on and look to the future, of all people know that the Omaticaya and the Subaiya are hostile, just fix that and I'll give you a prize".