ALERT! IF YOU ARE LOOKING FOR THE NEWEST CHAPTER, GO TO 'A Warrior's Tale' - 11/29/10

Avatar: Rebirth Chronicles

A Novel By: A.R. Fredrick

Based on the characters in Avatar, Created by: James Cameron

Archive: With Permission Only

Chapter Rating: T

The Oath

.:Data Stream Open:.

.:Transmission Data Status: Highly Encrypted and Compressed. Limited To Text Only. :.

.:Transmission Origin: Alpha Centauri Star System - Transmission Mode: Civilian Sub-light Channel. :.

.:Transmission Origin Continued: Signal Originates From Pandora – Seventh Moon Orbiting Planet Polyphemus. :.

.:Personal Log: Cho, Samson L. :.

.:Classification: Human. :.

.:August 27th, 2154 - Terran Calendar. :.

After numerous tours of duty in some of the most godforsaken war zones known to man, I had reached the zenith of my career. As an emergency surgeon there were no more challenges to face, or skills left to learn. I surmise it is due to the fact that the need for battlefield medicine has declined sharply in the past few years.

With each new conflict, Humans have come to rely on science and technology more and more to wage their battles. Infantry, foot soldiers, mercenaries and ground assaults have become primitive and non-essential, especially after the use of biological weapons became less taboo with the invention of DNA specific pathogens.

A foreign dictator stirring up trouble? No problem, just obtain a sample of his DNA and a designer virus can be created, one that will lie dormant when introduced to the general population, but become vile and deadly once contact has been established with the target DNA strands. Though scientists have not been able to compensate for loss of other immediate family members, such as brothers, sisters, parents and first generation offspring, they are deemed acceptable casualties in the end. After all, if you can cut off the head of the snake, the body dies soon after.

The result? A conflict that could've cost thousands of lives now only costs a mere handful of them. Simple. No fuss. No muss. No shrapnel to remove, or good old boys to patch up and send back to the front lines.

I had come to terms with the idea that there was no longer much of a need for the skills I possessed and was ready to fade into an early retirement, but then the RDA had come knocking with the offer of a job that would put my skills to the test once more.

Pandora. The new frontier of exploration for mankind. Though it had been discovered several years prior, Humanity was still in the early stages of taming the savage land that the Na'vi called home.

I had never considered space travel. Growing up, my parents had pushed me into medicine. Running my hands along the large intestine of the digestive track while searching for damaged tissue is about as much experience as I had ever clocked in the field of exploration.

But the RDA had talked me into signing up in the long run. Though, I suppose they were damn bewildered after I explained my reasons for agreeing to the mission. It wasn't for fame, or money, or because of their gung-ho speech about doing it "for the betterment of mankind," it was because I needed a purpose. I needed something to keep myself busy with.

I knew that I wouldn't be content with retirement. What did it leave me to look forward to? Golf? College Alumni reunions? Senior discounts at a myriad of retailers? Maybe I am exaggerating a bit, but I am sure you get the idea. Much to my chagrin, I never married or had children. The job always came first.

So when the RDA offered me a challenging new environment in which to further test my skills, I signed up. My friends and colleagues expressed their concerns, one was even convinced that I'd gone "bugshit crazy". Nevertheless, I carried on with the physical and mental conditioning required to make the trip.

As our launch date grew closer, I found myself becoming more and more anxious to leave. I suppose a part of me was afraid of becoming inept or complacent, that my medical knowledge would wither and die like some malignancy-infested muscle tissue. Though, I suppose I can also hearken my restlessness to the fact that I was craving adventure.

Growing up I was a bit of a nerd, mostly seen by my peers as being out of touch with my generation. I suppose this stemmed from the fact that I had spent my childhood and early adolescence with my nose in one book or another, seeking the next set of thrills and chills that the narrative of a great story could provide. While kids around me were babbling about the newest holo games, I was searching for Moby Dick with Captain Ahab, or conquering kingdoms with Genghis Khan, you name it, I read it.

But Pandora; this was a chance for real adventure. I was ready to escape gray skies and towering metal spires of Earth, for the lush greenery and untamed wilderness of this satellite some called the new Eden.

However, soon after I stepped off the transport, fresh from my stint as Rip Van Winkle aboard the cyro-ship ISV Venture Star, I came to realize that something more sinister was afoot. My compatriots were not there to explore this lush paradise, or get to know the native people that called it home. They were there to loot and plunder the natural resources of the land.

Though the general populace of Earth as well as Terran Offworlders Inhabiting colonies on the Moon and Mars knew that mining was being done to obtain the coveted mineral known as Unobtainum, they were given sugar-coated fancy versions of the truth that neglected to mention the fact that we were killing the natives and forcibly displacing them from their homes.

Sure, they knew of some issues that the RDA faced, but only the ones that had been leaked through clandestine channels. Even then the news of events had been whittled down by sensors to such an extent that they appeared to be less exciting then the homicide coverage on the evening news. The RDA has money, which can silence even the loudest media storm.

Though I was displeased with some of the guerrilla tactics employed by the RDA, I kept my head down and did the job, for the time being at least. As my stay on Pandora continued, I noticed that the relations between the natives and the RDA was becoming more strained. The RDA brass had tried to employ the old "carrot on a stick" method, attempting to appeal to the assumed sensibilities of the Na'vi by offering them goods and medicine in return for a peaceful relocation.

Those efforts had failed and the RDA was left with a mess on their hands as the "Sky People" were no longer seen by the Na'vi as peaceful benefactors, but rather aggressive invaders who wished to take control of their ancestral lands.

Most of this information has been relayed in other transmissions by my fellow colleagues here at Eden One, so I won't bore you with a play-by-play of events. But, I will say that I was seriously troubled when I discovered the plans for the destruction of the Omaticaya hometree and later the planned siege on the Tree of Souls, by Colonel Quaritch, it was around the same time that I was approached by Dr. Patel and was informed that there was a group that shared my views, that if I was willing, we might be able to make a difference for the Na'vi.

I had come to Pandora with the intention of healing my people, but after awhile, I had come to realize that healing relations with the Na'vi was just as important. It is because of this that I find myself facing my current set of challenges...

.:Transmission Ends:.

"We've got him on the table," a voice called from behind me, "BP and pulse are stable for the moment, but we can't be certain that will last."

I was still trying to take stock of everything. When we had gotten the call about the situation at the Omaticaya Camp, we did not know the full extent of the wounds to the patient and as a result of that, our reaction time had been severely lax. It was something that I knew I would anguish over later, but I did not have the luxury to spend time on regrets at this current juncture.

"Has he been sedated?" I asked.

"Affirmative," came the reply.

I was nervous and stalling a little, while washing my hands. I had never engaged in any sort of surgical procedure of such difficulty on a Na'vi patient before. I had studied the rudimentary biological functions of Avatar's prior to my assignment at the Hell's Gate facility, however those sessions were akin to dissecting a frog in science class. Informative and interesting, but not very practical if applied to real world emergency situations.

Regardless of the circumstances, I would not allow myself to fail. I had taken an oath and made a vow to help heal the suffering of others. Though I may not have much experience with Na'vi biology, it is up to me to save the life of this man, and I will not fail him.

My hands had been rinsed, lathered, scrubbed, rinsed, lathered and rinsed once more. There was no more cleanliness to be obtained by continuing the process. I removed my hands and stepped away from the sink, the motion sensor attached to the facet detected my departure and deactivated the flow of water.

I stepped into our makeshift operating room, and passed my hands under the bio-scanners, which worked to further eradicate any germs which might've still sought refuge from oblivion on my hands, and then applied a thin layer of a polymer compound designed to envelope my hand in a sterile glove, thereby protecting my patient and I further from germs, disease and infection.

Tsu'tey, the newest leader of the Omaticaya clan lay still on the operating table. His torso had been scrubbed, and his extremities cleaned, prior to this he had been covered in dried blood, dirt, war paint and other forms of excrement. I gazed at him behind the protection of my re-breather and hoped that I was doing the right thing.

I had two helpers assisting me, I'd say they were playing nurse, but I think it might offend them. Their voices were tinny behind the masks of their re-breathers and I tried to focus on the information they were feeding me as I prepared myself mentally. The room was saturated with Pandoran atmosphere, in order to ensure that our patient did not suffocate while we tried to save his life. Because of this the room was rather humid and uncomfortable.

"I don't think I'll need both of you here the entire time," I said while stepping up to the operating table. "I just need someone to relay vitals and hand me my instruments, the transport over on the gurney helped to stabilize him a bit, but we've still got to work fast, so after I remove the shrapnel, we're not even going to worry about stitching him up, we'll apply bio-sealant to suspend any bleeding and get him to the amino tank, the nanites can repair the rest of the damage.

Callandra Logan stepped up beside me, obviously an indication that she had elected to stay for the duration of the procedure.

"I'll hang tight with you here Sam," she told me. "Bright Eyes is going to go and check to make sure Max and Norm are getting the tank ready."

I grunted my reply and didn't even bother to cast a glance at the one she had called Bright Eyes, having no idea who it had even been in the first place. I shudder to admit it to people, but I am quite horrible at remembering names and faces.

Between her and I was a tray of gleaming stainless steel instruments, they sat there silently waiting for their wielder to hurt or heal at his or her fancy. I searched with my right foot, looking for the pedal that would activate the overhead projectors. Those projectors would display real-time biometric data holograpically onto the patient, showing me viable pathways to each piece of shrapnel, as well as suggested incision points for the quickest extraction of those alien objects.

The holo-projectors blinked to life and displayed the information needed for the first incision, his vital signs were displayed as steady. I took a deep breath and prepared for my first set of incisions.

"Cally, can you hand me the third scalpel on the left side of the tray?" I asked her while extending my right hand, into which she deposited the tool. I tried not to think too much about the difficulty of the task and decided to dive right into the thick of it, as time was of the essence. Ten minutes had elapsed since we had placed Tsu'tey on the operating table.

I made my incision and winced inwardly a bit at the sight of blood pouring from the fresh wound. His heartbeat was steady, and the flow of blood would not yet sway my hand, I glanced away from the purple substance toward the retractors on the equipment tray and Cally quickly handed them to me.

I used the retractors to pull apart the first few layers of flesh and realized that as serious as the situation was, I still needed conversation if I were to keep my cool.

"Cally, have you ever heard of the Hippocratic Oath?" I asked her.

"We spoke of it here an' there in college," she said with a chuckle. "But I think the Hippocratic Oath pertaining to scientists is a bit different then the one pertaining to you Doc."

"I would think so," I said while continuing to cut away at fatty tissue, trying to get to two pieces of shrapnel lodged in the muscular tissue of the breastbone. "I'm going to recite it as I work, think of it as a bit of a mantra of mine, helps me focus."

"Oh? Let's hear it," she said, humor evident in her voice.

"Can you give me some suction?" I asked her directing my gaze to a pocket of blood, which she vacuumed up. I mused for a moment at the cycle, we suck the blood and fluids out while we preform the operation, but the fluids are also replenished intravenously at the same time. "Alright. Just don't call me bonkers."

"No more than the rest of us," she deadpanned.

"I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, this covenant: I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow."

There it was, I saw it gleaming dully in the light. The first piece of shrapnel. I exchanged my scalpel for a set of forceps and pulled the bugger free of the chest cavity, dropping it into a small metal dish which also rested on the instrument tray. There was another piece of shrapnel in the same area, as identified by the biometric data. I need only cut through a few more layers of tissue.

"I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required, avoiding those twin traps of over-treatment and therapeutic nihilism. I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug." I said, continuing my mantra while going after the next stray object.

"Warmth... Sympathy?" Cally asked, "I know a doctor or two back home who would take care to remember those bits."

"I will not be ashamed to say 'I know not,' nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery." In truth, it was that line of the Oath that weighed on my mind now, as I wished for someone better qualified to save this man. "I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God."

I had found the second piece of shrapnel and slowly removed the warped metal hunk from the otherwise healthy flesh. Three more pieces remained and it was those pieces that worried me, as they were near a major artery. The happy little bits of metal, that were quick to lead to death if removed improperly, were located just above the Left Subclavian.

"Mmmhmm... Now comes the tricky part, we'll need to put on our game faces." I stated. "Cally, how are the fluids?"

"We've got eighty-three percent remaining, but I think there are a few more liters available, if we need it." She replied, while squinting at a monitor which was currently to my back.

"We might just have to make due with what we've already got prepped, we may need those fluids later for a different patient, I don't know how keen the Na'vi are about the idea of donating blood."

I was automatically given a can of bio-sealant after removing my tools and retractors from the incision cavity that I had created. I spent a moment applying the viscous gel-based fluid to the area of the wound, as it dried it would artificially cauterize the tissue, until such time that the nanites could begin their duties from within the amino tank.

I was getting anxious, my heartbeat quickened and I could feel my mouth starting to get dry. I tried to tell myself that it was just a mild case of the jitters, that this was a normal patient, just like any other, but I soon realized that if I were to use those time tested excuses, I would only be fooling myself.

This man was indeed a cultural icon to an entire tribe of people, who were depending on him for his strength and leadership, after what could only be described as an act of genocide. The outcome of this surgical procedure would have lasting ramifications, as relations with the Na'vi were at a crossroads. If I failed in my efforts to save this life, it might further deepen the rift between our two peoples, irrevocably rendering future peaceful relations nil. However, if I were successful, then perhaps the Na'vi would come to realize that the entirety of the human race was not composed of devils and madmen.

This is the challenge I signed up for, the challenge that I sought to test the mettle of my skills, but now that it was upon me, I felt more daunted by it, than by anything else I had faced previously. It was in this moment that I realized the irony of life, and let a small chuckle escape my lips.

"What's so funny?" Cally asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Should I tell her that I was contemplating the acts of divine irony that the universe had thrust upon me? Surely not, as this was neither the time, nor the place, it would only serve to distract her from the matters at hand.

"Nothing," I told her, trying to flash a boyish smile. "I'm just happy that the operation is progressing better than I had imagined."

Though I tried to put on the bravest front I could manage, the truth of the matter was that, as I was making my second incision and placing the retractors for optimal working efficiency, I was as nervous as a surgeon starting his first solo operation.

"Watch his BP Cally, if it starts to spike I need to know immediately."

I spoke softly and continued working without waiting for her reply, cutting away at healthy muscle, as it was the easiest available entry point. The remaining metal fragments were nestled together in a somewhat symmetrical manner, and luckily had not impacted any bone matter. If the bullet had met skeleton, things would've been much worse, as the bullet would've caused damage at the impact point, and then shattered.

As I was making my final cut, deep enough so that I would be able to remove the final shrapnel fragments, the intercom chimed.

"Guys, I've got the amino tank prepped, as it stands now we've got enough fluid for initial saturation, but we'll have to make a trip to Hell's Gate to get replacement supplies, especially if he is going to be in there for move then a few days," Dr. Max Patel stated, dispensing with any formalities.

"It seems likely, though you might want to have a look at his bio-scans Max, you've got a little more insight into the finer points of Na'vi physiology than I do." I told him.

"Don't sell yourself short Sam, I may be able to gauge the data, but there is no way I could be brave enough to get up to my elbows in a bunch of chest wounds," Max said with good humor, while breaking the link.

We were bathed in silence again, though it did not seem as ominous as before.

"His BP is starting to wobble a bit, but it still appears to be within acceptable levels," Cally chimed. "Fluid reserves are at seventy-one percent."

She stepped closer to me, and peered over my shoulder, for a moment I let vanity overtake me, and wondered if she was admiring my work. Soon after the idea began to form within my mind, I squashed it, much like an encroaching insect. I needed to focus goddamn it, and such thoughts would not help me with doing so.

I asked Cally for the forceps and began to hum, as I set about the task of removing the remaining bullet fragments.

"Are you kidding me?" Norm asked in disbelief. "I was scared shitless out there, I thought we would lose Tsu'tey long before we even got him stabilized on the gurney.

"Still, you handled everything better than I did," Max replied with a grimace. "My parents wanted me to go into medicine, but I just can't handle the sight of blood, I would completely freeze up when I was younger, even now I still get kinda queasy seeing any blood that doesn't belong to me."

The two men were located within the makeshift lab that was set up within Eden One, it wasn't as big as the lab at Hell's Gate, but they had procured all of the same equipment. Though it was somewhat cramped and more rudimentary, it was still very functional, as there were not as many personnel to contend with for lab space. OLED displays had been set up in a semi-circular fashion, and were directly linked to the computer mainframe that had been liberated from Hell's Gate. Holo-displays and the other more complicated instruments would have to wait until they had established a more permanent camp.

"You're too hard on yourself man," Norm said while giving his bespectacled friend a pat on the back.

"Easy for you to say," Max said while pulling up Tsu'tey's bio-scans on one of the touchscreens. "You're not the one who couldn't even operate a damned holo-cam."

Norm sighed, as he realized he was not going to win this battle, he had learned a long time ago that in any friendship diplomacy was highly important, and even while trying to console his friend, he knew better than to press the subject.

Norm was looking forward to some time in his bunk, he needed the peace that sleep would afford, as he had dealt with enough stress to last him a year and he yearned for some time to relax.

"Crap, this isn't good at all." Max muttered.

Norm spared a glance at his friend, Dr. Patel's coffee-colored skin was bathed in a rainbow of neon light, which emanated from the computer screen, that had absorbed the bulk of his attention. Risking a glance at the screen, Norm had come to surmise that Max was reviewing Tsu'tey's bio-scans, and appeared to be greatly concerned with some anomaly that he had detected.

"What's the matter?" Norm asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Tsu'tey may have unforeseen complications from some of the injuries he suffered," Max answered in a grave timbre.

"Huh?" Norm murmured. "I don't get it, didn't you just say that you spoke to Dr. Cho, and he told you that the surgery was going well?"

"Yeah, bu-"

"I mean, I know that he isn't as comfortable as dealing with Pandoran Physiology as Grace was," Norm continued, "but whatever he can't fix, I'm sure the nanites can handle."

"They weren't designed to deal with the finer points of things." Max said, while enlarging one of the images on the screen, "and this is totally out of their league."

Bringing up a cranial shot, he pointed to a section at the back of the skull. It was only a rough gesture, but it was enough to point Norm on the right track. Tsu'tey's neural queue had been largely severed at the top of the skull. Only a few fibers remained intact. Realizing this, Norm felt a knot begin to form in his stomach, as he mind began to process this new information.

"Holy shit, how did we miss this?" Norm asked. His voice cracked midway through the question, it only happened when he was nervous or upset, nevertheless it always bothered him.

Looking around like a man who had become lost, Norm took in sight of the lab, as if for the first time. There were still heaps of boxes that needed to be unpacked, the conference table that they had set up as a row of workstations was still largely unorganized, they had yet to dedicate room for a monitor to stream radar telemetry and track radio signals, and the area was missing personal touches, family photos and other kitsch, but right now, all of that seemed unimportant.

He groped for a stool that was to his left, it rolled to him on well-oiled wheels. Not willing to look at his friend, he sat with a tired sigh, and put his head in his hands. The amino tank was behind him, but he couldn't bear to look at it, even with all of the preparations and effort, he felt like it was all for nothing.

A Na'vi who couldn't make tsaheylu would rather commit suicide than continue living.