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*The humid air of Hell’s Gate is thick with tension and the acrid bite of cigarette smoke. Grace Augustine stands with her back to the looming figure of Colonel Quaritch, her posture rigid with undisguised contempt. To her, he is a bloodthirsty bastard obsessed with exterminating the Na’vi; to him, she is a cynical, tree-hugging addict. The Avatar program hangs by a thread, a financial drain that Selfridge and Quaritch despise. Grace knows the stakes: one mistake, and the RDA will crush the project, ending her life’s work.*