It was midday before Sharon returned to Hell's Gate with Sabine.
"It's ok," said Sabine with a smile, catching at Sharon's hand. "I won't tell anyone."
Sharon squeezed back. "Thanks," she said. "If it got out I was blubbing like a baby about a lost dummy, I would never live it down."
"That does a lot for a girl's self-esteem," quipped Sabine drily. "To be compared to a lost dummy is not an honour I really aspired to."
"Sorry," said Sharon. "I've never been good at relationships." She had no doubt that she was in one now. Sharon had not been prepared for the depth of feeling that had opened up with Uniluke. It seemed that Avatars were wired quite differently than humans, who could screw like bonobos without forming any emotional attachment whatsoever.
Or at least that was what Sharon had always told herself.
"Don't worry," replied Sabine. "I'll let you know if you are screwing up by the numbers."
"I don't doubt it," said Sharon.
"Well?" asked Colonel Renshaw.
"I am not sure what you are asking, sir," stated Sharon, in her normal position when summonsed into the Boss' office – that is, standing rigidly at parade rest in front of his desk staring two inches above his head.
"For Christ's sake, Sharon, stop with the clockwork soldier routine and sit down," ordered Renshaw.
Fortunately, Renshaw had thrown out the less than satisfactory chairs supplied for use by the RDA, and had the workshops section produce backless stools. It was almost impossible to sit down comfortably in a chair, as there was no place for the tail to go.
"Yes, sir!" she snapped, and took her seat – or rather stool, her back as straight as a ramrod.
The CO of RDA forces at Hell's Gate sighed. It seemed that she was determined to continue playing games – perhaps it had been unwise to 'pull her tail' by playing the all-seeing commanding officer at their last encounter. "Will Uniluke resolve the disciplinary issues we have had with our female personnel?" he asked.
Sharon smiled a little when she answered, "Yes."
"That's it?" he demanded. "Yes?"
The smile vanished off her face. "I'm sorry, sir," she replied crisply. "The Na'vi were very clear that Uniluke is 'secret women's business.' That means no aspect of the ceremony may be revealed to males."
"What if I ordered you to divulge all relevant information regarding the ceremony?" he asked.
"I would have to respectfully decline," she answered calmly, thinking there was a pineapple in her immediate future. Again.
"Good," he replied, surprising her. "That is exactly the response I expected from you. If we are to make any headway with the Na'vi, then we have to show respect to their cultural practices, and be seen to do so."
"There is something you need to know about Uniluke," offered Sharon. "I suspect the emotional bonds formed between the four women who share the rite are somewhat permanent in nature. The Na'vi have a term for them – a tsumuke'awsiteng. You will need to take account of this when assigning duties and extended postings off-base."
"Is that so?" asked Renshaw curiously, translating the term in his head – sisters together.
"Yes," stated Sharon. "The Na'vi recognise this. They will not break up a tsumuke'awsiteng. If a male mates with a woman from another clan, then in almost all cases he will change clans rather than break up a tsumuke'awsiteng. The only exception to this rule is if the entire tsumuke'awsiteng agrees to change clans. In that case, all their mates change clans as well."
"So in a sense it is like a marriage, except between four women, instead of two people," mused the Colonel. It seemed that Na'vi was much more matriarchal in nature than had previously been supposed – although it was difficult to tell. All the original first contact records with the Na'vi that had detailed anthropological notes were classified well beyond his level of access.
Renshaw chuckled, "You are married to the M.O. now - you and Doc Fleischmann. Ha!" He was expecting a grin or a laugh from the soldier in front of him, but instead received a flinty gaze, completely lacking in humour or amusement.
After several uncomfortable seconds of silence, Sharon replied simply, "Sabine is my sister. May I go now?"
"Dismissed," agreed Renshaw, somehow understanding that he had committed a grave faux pas.
As she ambled away from the longhouse, Sharon wondered if the Boss had realised how much more difficult his job was about to become. Once the scumbags in this unit started pursuing bints in other clans...shit! She was already considering Hell's Gate as a clan. They needed a better clan name. Perhaps the Avatars would call themselves the Uniltìranyu. The Dreamwalker Clan – it had a nice ring to it. She half-thought that was how the Fifteen Clans already thought of the Avatars here at Hell's Gate.
She would suggest this to Renshaw - via an e-mail, rather than in person. Sharon didn't feel inclined to talk to him at the moment, not after his attitude about Sabine.
Anyway, once the muppety pongos started following their short arms – there just weren't enough slits here to satisfy demand, and she had no intention of making it easy for any of the fucking ankles – the Boss could find his command jacking up and disappearing out from underneath.
When Sharon re-entered the female quarters, she was almost mobbed.
"What was it like?"
"Did it hurt?"
"Was it fun?"
It seemed there were a thousand questions along similar lines. Sharon held up her hand to forestall the bunch of sheilas surrounding her.
"Steady on," she said over the hubbub. "Let the dog see the rabbit."
"So what was Uniluke like?" asked one of the women in the front row, once the noise abated.
"Intense." Sharon hesitated, wondering what else to say, until she settled on, "Make sure you really like the three bints you ask - as people, I mean. Uniluke isn't just a casual fuck."
This wasn't the response the women had expected from Sharon.
"Ok, ladies," she added, stifling a yawn. "If you don't mind, I'm going to hit the wank chariot for some cyclone training. I'm buggered."
As it turned out, they did mind. But they were too afraid of her to mention it.
There was something of a surprise waiting for her when Sharon entered her digs – namely, a lot less space. Her space.
It appeared that Sabine had moved quickly, all in the time it had taken for her interview with Renshaw. Two cots had been pushed together, and a storage cabinet squeezed in, leaving scarcely enough space to navigate into the tiny bathroom. Sharon's eyes tracked across the room bounded by paper thin walls, the room that she had called her own, until they fixed on the opening bathroom curtain.
A very clean and happy Chief Medical Officer stepped from the bathroom into the sleeping space, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her wet hair. Sabine took the opportunity to slide her arms around Sharon's waist, and planted a kiss on her surprised lips. A little while later, the kiss regretfully ended.
"Hi," said Sabine. "I missed you."
"Ah..." said Sharon.
Sabine forestalled her words. "Shhh," she said. "You don't need to say anything. I just want to show you how much I missed you."
The Chief Medical Officer had missed Sharon a great deal in the half-an-hour or so they had been parted, and Sharon never did get her afternoon nap. Nor did she get any food either, not until the following day.
As for the loss of her personal space? It appeared that Sharon didn't mind the loss that much, after all.
"Sharon! Turned that damned thing off!" yelled Paklowski, holding her hands over her sensitive ears.
Sharon heard a faint noise, frowned slightly, pointed to the headphones over her ears and yelled, "I can't hear a fucking word. This piece of shit is making too much racket." She made a gesture towards the industrial vacuum cleaner she was using to hoover up the fine dust being produced by the power sander. Then she caught the expression on Linda's face, sighed, and switched both the sander and the vacuum cleaner off.
"What is it?" she shouted, and then when Linda winced, she removed her headphones and said in a softer voice, "Sorry."
"Na'dia wants to know if you are chickening out of your challenge," said Linda, shaking her head to get the ringing out of her ears.
"Oh, fuck!" swore Sharon. After the turmoil provoked by Uniluke and her 'just add tirea'tutee and one kali'weya sting' instant relationship with Sabine, the challenge had clear slipped her mind. "Tell her I'll be outside the gym in fifteen." She tidied the tools away, and ran her hand along the blank she had cut out of the foam block. This was going to be a totally gaz board, one of the best she had ever shaped.
"I thought you were happy with your board," commented Linda. "So why are you making another one?"
"It's not for me," replied Sharon shortly. "Now, fuck off and give the bitch my seventy-seven. I'll be there."
There was a considerable crowd waiting outside the gym when Sharon arrived there, toting a heavy bag over her shoulder.
Na'dia looked at her curiously and asked, "Are you ready?"
"Hold on," answered Sharon, dropping the bag on the ground and opening it. "If you're as good as they say you are, then we are both going to be hurting soon. You're going to wear protective gear, just like I am, whether you like it or not." She tossed an assortment of gloves, breast plates, knee and elbow pads, and a padded helmet at the surprised Omaticaya woman. "I have no fucking intention of spending time in the panel beating shop if I can avoid it. And don't forget this." Sharon threw a mouthguard blank – liquorice flavour – at Na'dia. She had kept a lemon flavoured one for herself. "I'd rather you kept all your teeth."
While Sharon was putting on her gear, Paklowski drifted over to the Omaticaya women to murmur in Ninat's ear, "I would encourage Na'dia to put it on. Sharon really is that good."
Ninat bristled and snapped back, "Na'dia is a great warrior. She does not need these...things." She made a gesture towards the protective gear scattered on the ground before her.
"How good?" asked Na'dia, ignoring Ninat for the moment, as she examined the mouthguard blank, turning it over and over. They had not had these on 'Rrta when she was a girl, but it was easy enough to divine what it was.
Paklowski answered, "Sharon was the unarmed combat instructor for the Australian Special Air Service Regiment for the last eighteen months of her service."
Na'dia nodded, and slowly began to put the gear on. It had been many years and another body since she had last worn garments such as these. Ninat's mouth dropped open in surprise. "What are you doing?" she demanded.
"You would have me unhurt, my love," said Na'dia, touching her sister gently on the belly, "So that I may care for you while the child within you grows."
Tania said, "Na'dia is right to wear the gear, Ninat. I have seen Sharon fight."
"What are the rules?" asked Na'dia.
"Rules?" responded Sharon with a laugh. "There is only one rule. We stop when one of us says enough." She tilted her head from one side to the other, producing audible crunches while she danced lightly on the balls of her feet. "Are you ready?"
"Srane," replied Na'dia.
Suddenly, Sharon found herself backpedalling fast, blocking strike after strike in a furious series of combinations. She had never seen anyone move so quickly. Na'dia was more like a whirling dervish than a woman, and it was all offense, no defence. The problem was that the tiny bitch was so fast she didn't have time to make any counters. Not only that – some of the blows were getting through, and they HURT!
The watching Omaticaya were yelling triumphantly as they saw their warrior drive the dreamwalker back, when they abruptly fell silent. Sharon had stepped right into one blow, absorbing the power of the strike in her ribs, while she unleashed a ferocious counter-punch, striking Na'dia in the side of the jaw. The smaller woman was rocked by the power of the blow, falling to one knee.
Sharon spat out her mouthguard and asked, "You ok?"
Plucking out her mouthguard, Na'dia nodded. She stated, "You could have put me away."
"Perhaps," replied Sharon. "But that wouldn't be any fucking fun."She felt her ribs gingerly – Sharon didn't think any were broken. Then again, she might be entirely mistaken. "Again?"
"Yes," was the one word reply.
The crowd watched in silence as the Sharon advanced slowly, pushing Na'dia back with a flurry of blows. As she moved forward, Sharon absorbed blow after blow, until she swept Na'dia's feet out from under her. She shouted as her stiffened fingers shot forward, stopping just short of Na'dia's throat.
The lethal hand changed into an invitation to help the smaller woman up. Na'dia said ruefully, "You're better at hand-to-hand than me."
"Not by much," admitted Sharon, hauling her opponent back onto her feet. "A bee's dick is all. I think the only bloody difference is that I can take a bit more of a pounding." There was a curious expression on Na'dia's face, as though she was enjoying a private joke, other than the obvious double entendre. Sharon's eyes narrowed, and she accused, "You're holding something back."
"Yes," agreed Na'dia.
"What the fuck for!" demanded the soldier angrily. "Are you trying to fucking rupert me?"
While Na'dia might not know exactly the words Sharon had used, the tone of her voice left Na'dia no doubt that Sharon felt she was being dishonoured. It seemed that Sharon was as touchy about her honour as any warrior of the clans.
Na'dia started to explain, "I did not think it was fair..."
"Fuck fair!" exploded Sharon. "Again!"
"Very well," said Na'dia. "Don't say I didn't warn you." She breathed out slowly, and there was a gasp from the onlookers as her image shimmered and faded from sight.
"Fuck me sideways," murmured Sharon, holding steady in the guard position. Then, what felt like a foot slammed into the side of her head, knocking her to her hands and knees, followed by a punch to the kidneys, driving her into the ground.
About ten minutes later, Colonel Renshaw pushed his way through the crowd, to see a battered, bruised and bleeding Sharon being helped to her feet by Na'dia. It looked as though she had the absolute shit kicked out of her. "What is going on here?" he demanded.
Sharon spat blood onto the ground and answered, "It's a friendly test of arms, sir," she replied. "Again?" she asked, looking at Na'dia.
"I think you've had enough," said Renshaw.
"No!" Sharon snapped back. "I know I've got this. One more time."
Na'dia looked towards the Colonel. "It is according to the rules we agreed. We fight until one of us has had enough."
Renshaw glanced at the two women. He knew that Sharon would never give up, and to order her to give in would be a slur on her pride. "Na'dia," he appealed. "You could decide you have had enough."
Na'dia shook her head. "I would be lying. To do as you say would dishonour Sharon."
"Very well," said Renshaw. He turned to Sharon and ordered, "One more exchange, as you agreed. Then that is it."
Sharon was a little relieved when Renshaw spoke. She was tired and sore. "Yes, sir," she replied.
As she took guard, Sharon wondered how Na'dia had been fading from sight. Perhaps she was doing some mumbo-jumbo with the local deity, and influencing everyone's perceptions of reality. Perhaps she never really was invisible, and she was somehow hypnotising everyone to think she was. An approach of brute force as she had been using would not work, if that was what she was doing.
She remembered that one guy she had served with – his handle had been Stretch – had been into this yoga shit, and had always hummed some mantras before he went into combat. It seemed to relax him, and he said it made him more focused.
But Sharon had never been into all that hocus-pocus. She didn't know how to call upon the spirits, or gods, or anything like that. However, she did know how to do one thing. She shut her eyes and reached for the feeling that she had last experienced on her surfboard, inside the tube as she hung on moments from being wiped out.
A sense of calm descended upon her, where before there had been rage. "Ready," she said quietly.
Renshaw was surprised when Na'dia shimmered from view.
Sharon wasn't – not after having the shit hammered out of her for the last fucking ten painful minutes.
Very simple thoughts ran through Sharon's mind. Block, pivot, sweep, clamp, twist and drop. Then, a distant sound of cheering came to her ears, as she found herself with one knee planted in the middle of Na'dia's back, pinning her to the ground. Sharon had twisted Na'dia's left arm painfully up behind her back, making it impossible for her to wriggle free. She released the Omaticaya woman immediately, and said, "Thanks, Na'dia. That was good."
As Sharon hauled Na'dia back to her feet, Na'dia said, "No-one has ever been able to do that to me."
"There is always a first time," said Sharon. "Say, how did you do the 'fade to black' shit? I'd like to be able to do that."
Na'dia chuckled, "There are two steps required to master the technique. First, find a friendly palulukan. Second, persuade her to teach you how to disappear – and not down her throat."
"A thanator?" exclaimed Sharon. "Shit! You're more of a galah than I ever was." She instantly resolved that she didn't really want to learn how to be invisible. Sharon might indeed be a nut-case, but she wasn't fucking insane.
After the crowd dispersed, Na'dia watched Sharon limp off in the company of Pakloswki to seek medical treatment. She commented to Renshaw, "She is a warrior without comparison."
"Sharon is the most difficult soldier I have ever commanded," he replied, watching the battered but proud soldier leave the battlefield. "But you are right. She is the best warrior I have ever seen."
"It is often the way of such," replied Na'dia. "Remember this, when it is time."
"What?" asked Renshaw, turning back towards the Omaticaya woman.
But she, like Sharon, was gone.
When Sharon limped into Sabine's office, supported by Paklowski, she was greeted by several seconds of silence.
"Hi, Sabine," she said through swollen lips. "I need a little panel beating."
"What the fuck?" queried the Chief Medical Officer. "What have you done to yourself?"
Linda replied for her, "Some unarmed combat training with one of the Na'vi and a whole lot of pride did this, Sabine."
Sharon hadn't removed any of the protective gear. Silently, Sabine unripped the Velcro fastenings, easing the gear – gloves, helmet and padding – slowly off her body. The sense of disapproval in the room was palpable – even more so when Sabine started to clean the many cuts and scrapes decorating Sharon's skin.
Linda had to give it to Sharon. She didn't flinch or cry out once. If it had been Linda being cleaned up, she would be saying 'ouch' at ten second intervals. "It's partly my fault," said Linda, "If I hadn't told Sharon that Na'dia was waiting for her, this would never have happened."
Sabine snorted in disbelief. "I don't think that is right, do you, darling?" she asked, a thread of venom running through her voice.
"It's all my fault," agreed Sharon. "If I wasn't such a fuck-witted quarmbie, I wouldn't get in so much fucking strife."
"I'm glad we are agreed in that," said Linda and Sabine in chorus.
"How is Kim?" asked Sharon, seeking to change the subject away from her inadequacies as a person.
Linda replied, "She's enjoying the move into married quarters."
"The Boss didn't cut up about it?"
"No," said Linda. "He just sighed, and said it was inevitable. Mind you, not that he can afford to point the finger at anyone."
"Oh, is that chippie from the Omaticaya still hanging around?" queried Sharon. "Her name is Amala, I think."
"You bet," replied Linda. "Missile has acquired target and is locked on."
"God, you are a mess," commented Sabine finally. "I don't think there is going to be any lasting damage, though. You'll just be pissing blood for a day or two."
"Thank Christ for small fucking mercies," said Sharon.
"I suppose it is asking too much for you to take the next week easy," stated Sabine. "It will take at least that long before some of these really start to heal."
Linda snorted derisively at that prospect, but was surprised at Sharon's next words.
"Ok," said Sharon. "A spot of doona wrestling sounds just the thing."
"Doona wrestling?" asked Sabine. That sounded entirely too energetic for what Sharon needed.
"Gonking," explained Sharon. "You know, cyclone training. "
"Pandora to Sharon," said Linda. "Your message is garbled. Please repeat, over."
"Oh," replied Sharon. "I mean sleeping."
"And no sex," said Sabine firmly. "You'll be too sore to enjoy it anyway."
"I was sore after Uniluke," teased Sharon. "It didn't seem to stop you yesterday, though."
The Chief Medical Officer flushed darker. "I didn't mean that kind of sore," she hissed.
Linda wondered what exactly had happened during Uniluke, to make Sharon so, um, pliable. No doubt, she and Kim would find out in time when they finally joined the tsumuke'awsiteng in deed as well as intention.