Diplomacy

The mess hall was a mess.

Not a mess in the sense of noun, specifically the latter being a shortened version of the former. No, the mess hall was a mess in the sense of an adjective-milk had already accumulated in puddles on the floor, the tables were stained with everything from honey to cornflakes and as far as Grace Augustine could see, no-one gave two hoots. People laughed, traded insults and, in the case of some burly SecOps grunts, traded fists as well.

Glad to see how far we've come in etiquette…

Then again, as Grace had discovered over the years, etiquette was overrated, at least on Pandora. Human manners could be regarded by the na'vi as insults and vice versa, so in the end, it was simply better to relax and be yourself and let the consequences peel out. Unfortunately, for someone who was always looking at the stars back on Earth and always looking at the ground on this moon, being normal for Grace sometimes involved phasing out. And even more unfortunately, there were only a few people who could snap her out of it.

"Hey doc, move it or lose it."

The redhead blinked. What? Who said-…

"Fine, you've lost it."

With perhaps the most irritating person on this jungle world cutting in front of her in the line for breakfast, it had become clear that Parker Selfridge cared as much about manners as the leader of the Avatar Program did. And as sickening as the thought of them agreeing on something was, it was nothing compared to the irritation that the base's administrator had gained the upperhand, however briefly.

"Ah Parker, how nice to see you at this hour," said Grace sarcastically, turning away from Max laughing at one of Jake's jokes, apparently showing that low IQs could work on scientists as much as na'vi. "Come to eat with us lesser mortals?"

"What, you're surprised?" Parker asked, his gaze drifting towards one of the serving girls whose shirt wasn't fully done up. "I'm a people person after all."

Fires danced in the scientist's eyes that matched her hair color. For someone who usually took meals alone, not to mention instantly being served a pre-prepared meal of everything from sausages to hash browns, Parker certainly didn't rank highly when it came to social candor, bar seeking compliments for slightly above average golfing skills. And being served what looked like porridge in contrast didn't improve the biologist's mood in the slightest.

"You know Parker, for a king among men, you're not being very regal," Grace said, following the administrator to a mostly empty table.

"And you want me to be?" the golfer asked. "I can if you want."

Resisting the urge to punch the S.O.B. in the face, the scientist let Parker take in the smells of his breakfast, demonstrating how kings were supposed to act. Still, at least for now, Hell's Gate was a constitutional monarchy and that was a fact that Dr. Augustine wanted to make abundantly clear.

"Parker, no matter what you may think, I'm not an idiot," Grace began, pushing her porridge to one side as her superior began wolfing down his food. "I know what you're happy about, what's prompted you to mix with your subjects."

"So?" Parker mumbled, not even bothering to finish his sausage before he began talking. "Why shouldn't we be happy? You've got your prodigy in with the blue monkeys and I've got the means to provide a carrot for them through him. Sully's on our side and-…"

"Sides? Grace interrupted. "Who said anything about sides?"

Parker blinked, a hash brown dangling in mid-air as he did so. Still, as tempting as it was to knock it off, Grace decided to press her point.

"Parker, this isn't about sides," Grace said firmly. "This isn't about us and them, or you and me. This is about finding the best solution available to all of us. You want the unobtanium under Hometree? That's fine, I can't stop you. But if you think that what goes around doesn't come around, then you're in for a shock."

Parker snorted, popping the hash brown into his mouth as if to prove a point. "Spare me the rhetoric doc. I don't want the monkeys dead, but if you think I won't use a stick if I have to, then you'll end up being the one who gets a shock. Still, since your brainchild has made himself a home among the natives, hopefully it won't come to that."

It sickened Grace to realize that Parker had more faith in Jake than she did right now. How could anyone, let alone a jarhead washout, possibly become one of the People in a mere three months? Either Hell's Gate's administrator was overconfident or arrogant, and neither of those options was particularly appealing.

"So anyway, there's nothing for it," Parker continued, now moving onto his eggs. "I told you three days ago that you had to find a diplomatic solution. So all you have to do now is work your magic and forge one within three months. Simple as pie."

Grace sighed. This conversation was over as far as she was concerned. Maybe sides wouldn't be taken. Maybe lines wouldn't be drawn. But what had become clear that even in a tight-knit colony like this, one could still choose the company you kept. And glancing over at her fellow Avatar drivers listening raptly to Jake's surprisingly honest account of learning how to ride a direhorse, she chose it.

Strangely enough, choosing to switch tables wasn't as hard a decision as she thought it would be.