A New Mission: Ash to Fire

A New Day

The three Laws of Eywa:

You shall not set stone upon stone.

Neither shall you use the turning wheel.

Nor use the metals of the ground.

Miles was awake. He survived his first night in a Na'vi village and the first night of his New Mission. He was lying on his back, flat on his sleeping pad, looking up at the rocky ceiling with his head resting on his hands in a cradle pose, his huge biceps slightly flexed from the bending of his elbows. His right knee was bent up and his tail was angled out to the side, curling and uncurling against the dirt floor gently. His eyes were barely moving, he was just staring at nothing, blinking, breathing, thinking.

He could hear distant activity and commotion of the village outside his hut which was quite far from the main village thoroughfare, his ears slightly turning to pick up the collection of foreign sounds. What a place and position Miles found himself in. If you were to tell his human self any of this would happen, he'd have thrown you in the Hell's Gate brig on account of having gone mad.

Miles had slept in quite late before waking, the light emerging from the passing of the eclipse is what caused him to open his eyes. As a Type-A Marine, he was typically an early riser, but it seems that there was just a lingering physical and mental exhaustion from all of his recent life experiences. Almost dying to Jake Sully, healing and getting this shit new mission, then a day's journey in an uncomfortable gunship to get to the mission location. Not to mention his existential turmoil which he worked tirelessly day in and day out to suppress. But sleeping past eclipse was a pretty extreme sleep-in.

He really had no specific plans in leading his Marines for today, both of whom were probably as exhausted as he was. He was still trying to figure out how to satisfy the mission goals. What was he supposed to do? Tell his Marines to learn how to "Na'vi" better? Learn Ash Na'vi village skills they had no business knowing in the long term? It was a goddamned three-month mission. Fuck.

Sure, he could seek to get into the good graces of these people, but what exactly was the end goal here? A financial windfall for the RDA in selling metric tons of rare Pandoran gems and minerals? Is that all his purpose was? Working to line the pockets of the RDA and their suits?

Or would he try to ally these people to the point of... what, exactly? That they would go to war with Na'vi clans like Jake Sully's? Miles knew from a very cursory introduction with these people that this was a long shot. They were clearly not an overtly warring culture, they were just... a seemingly normal village. Whatever their disagreements were with other Na'vi, he highly doubted they could be used to galvanize such extreme actions.

Zu did come across as this sort of warrior princess in her initial greeting, with her intimidating look, gemmed diadem, and obsidian spear and shield, but that's not what the people as a whole were like, it was likely just for show for their first meeting—or was just this girl.

Miles felt that this mission was just so... insignificant. It really was a punishment mission for his failure, wasn't it? His previous mission in seeking to hunt down and kill Jake was at least about protecting human and RDA interests as a whole— Jake's insurgency preventing conflict-less colonization of Pandora. Or so he told himself. These negative thoughts jolted Miles upwards, he leaned up with an exhale, his right leg still bent up, and leaned his arm over his leg. He figured it was time to get ready and start his day.

Zu was on her way to Miles' hut. She didn't have an issue with him or his other Marines sleeping in, she offered them the allowance, but time was passing. The daily midday eclipse giving way to late afternoon and early evening. Zu had something to show them that was best reserved for when the sun was high in the sky. She approached close to Miles' hut slowly and was about to call his name when she caught a glimpse of him through his doorway, past the curtain that didn't span the full width of the opening, his back towards the doorway. Miles was on one knee rummaging through one of his supply crates, his shirtless form revealing all the muscular definition of his back.