A Thing About Steak
Trudy looked at the serving lady as she put the meat on her plate. "What kind of steak is this?" she asked.
"What do you mean what kind?"
"I mean what kind of steak. Like, is it cow steak?"
"What other steak is there?"
"Well, there's not-steak. And synth-steak. Also I heard that you guys serve viperwolf meat sometimes and-"
"Next!" the lady cried out. She gave a look at Trudy that said "shove it."
Yeah. Sure. Whatever. She picked up a Coke from the end of the bench before heading off to one of the tables.
People rarely ate steak. And by "people," she meant 99% of the human race. On Earth, the 1% lived as they always did, which meant living in a world so different from the actual state of Sol III that it might as well have been a different planet. The rest of the teeming masses had to deal with a world where arable land was at a premium, and where most of said land was devoted to crops meant for human consumption. It was simply too cost-prohibitive to graze cattle in any meaningful capacity. Arguably it always had been. And while synthetic steak (like every kind of synthetic meat) had been created to fill the void, it not only lacked the taste, but it was still expensive to produce. So when Trudy had heard about viperwolf and banshee meat being served at Hell's Kitchen, she hadn't been surprised. And she had to ask.
Because everyone was eating steak. Or at least, everyone in SecOps was. Steak was special. Steak was rare. It was true on Earth, it was true on Mars, and it sure as hell was true in another star system. But there was reason to celebrate. Hometree had been destroyed. The dozers had clear access to a second unobtanium mine. The na'vi had been dispersed. Cause for celebration right?
She glanced at some of her fellow SecOps crew. Few of them glanced back at her. Those who did made it clear that she wasn't welcome to sit beside them. SecOps might recruit from armed forces all over the world, but there was still a comradery its members were meant to follow. At Hometree, she'd broken it. Not done so in a way that had jeopardized the operation, but she'd broken it all the same. So far, she'd escaped any disciplinary action, but that, she could live with. Disciplinary action for breaking, well, discipline, was often seen as a rite of passage – least it had been in the Marines. But breaking the unspoken code that bound mercs together? A no go apparently.
She took a seat at the edge of one of the benches. At the far end, the mercs who were closest to her shuffled upwards.
Yeah, fine. Didn't want to be near you anyway.
Thing was, she wasn't sure it was even a lie. Spending months with the eggheads in the Thundering Mountains, before coming back here…it was like being on the outside looking in. Seeing them eat, seeing them laugh, hearing them make jokes about blue monkeys…She sighed and looked at her plate. She took a bite of the steak.
Oh my God that's good.
She took three more bites before she even tried the potato salad, or took a sip of the Coke. All of that, before she took another look at the plate and let the thoughts rush up to her head just as the food and drink rushed down to her body.
A cow had died for this. Fine in principle – she wasn't a vegetarian. But it was a cow that was grown somewhere on a world where that land could be put to better use, either for people who couldn't afford meat, or returned to the natural world in some attempt to heal it. She leant over and twiddled her knife on top of the slab of cow matter. She stuck it in, twisting it, imagining that she was twisting the blade inside the gut of…injustice? Fate? Herself? She twisted and twisted it, until the meat was cut in two. No blood – it was medium rare. Just the way she liked it.
She'd seen blood before of course. On Earth, she'd flown her bird, fired guns, shot missiles – she'd seen blood on the ground when her projectiles hit their targets. And she'd certainly seen blood up close when she'd retrieved her fellow jarheads from a warzone. She'd even got it on herself when she'd helped haul them to a medical tent. Blood…She leant forward, rubbing her face and eyes with her hands. One never forgot the smell of blood. And while she hadn't seen any at Hometree, nor had she smelt it, that wasn't to say it wasn't there. The na'vi were tough, but they still bled. And one didn't escape fire and fury without blood being part of the equation, even if that fire and fury was done in as "humane" a manner as possible.
"Feeling down Chacon?"
Oh fuck off.
No such luck. Opening her eyes, she saw Lyle sit down opposite her with his own tray, while behind him was Fike. The latter was just standing there, smirking. The former was just sitting there, scowling.
"I was fine until five seconds ago, thanks for asking."
"Oh really? Here, let me make it better."
He reached out with his hand, heading for her Coke.
"Put your hand back in your pants Lyle, I think it's needed there."
He withdrew his hand, but not his gripes. Still, there was a rhyme and rhythm to this, Trudy reflected. Lyle Wainfleet was many things, but imaginative wasn't one of them.
You're going to start by eating the steak.
"Interesting last twenty-four hours," he said, tucking into the meat.
Then you're going to try the potato and chew it with your mouth open.
"I mean, we get the blue monkeys on the run with no damage but some scratched paint."
Trudy winced – the potato looked disgusting.
"Then we-"
"God's sake Lyle, finish what you're eating before you do the whole mean and ugly thing."
"Hey, I'm not ugly." He looked at Fike. "What d'ya say Sean? Think I'm ugly."
"Nah. Course not. You're a fine human specimen."
"See?" Lyle returned his gaze to Trudy. "Sean here doesn't think I'm ugly."
"You think I care what your lapdog thinks?"
Lyle shrugged and took a sip of Fanta. "Dunno." He bit into his steak, this time taking the time to chew it. "Course, what you're thinking Chacon…that's a bit of a mystery isn't it?"
Trudy folded her arms. "Spit it out Lyle, let's get it over with."
He spat the meat onto his plate.
"Didn't mean you spit the meat out dumbass."
"I'll eat how I want you cunt."
"Wow." Trudy blinked. "That's, like, top tier insult level for you."
"Believe me precious, I can do a lot more than just hurl insults."
"Yeah, like, what?"
"Firing an M-sixty." He shoved the plate aside and leant forward. "Might have been able to do so if you didn't get cold feet at the last moment."
Trudy didn't say anything – what she had and hadn't done at Hometree – it hardly felt like the "last moment."
"I mean, there's me being all good and ready to get the job done, then you decide to fly off."
When you lobbed smoke grenades at innocents as part of a way of dispersing them…not going the extra step still didn't feel like "last moment."
"Chacon?" He clicked his fingers in front of her. "You listening?"
Trudy sighed.
"Don't think she's listening Sean. Think she's listening?"
"Nup."
"I'm listening," she murmured. She leant forward and forced a smile. "Come on – you're in your big boy pants you might as well tell me how you were all ready to use your gun on aliens with nothing better than bows and arrows."
Lyle said nothing.
"Makes you feel big does it?" Trudy asked. "The whole tough guy, no shits given thing?"
"And what are you then?" Lyle asked.
Trudy glanced around at the mess hall. Only person here with a conscience apparently.
"I mean, me and the guys…" He picked up his knife and positioned it between his two fingers, bobbing it up and down like a wave. "We thought, hey, poor Chacon, trapped with the eggheads among floating rocks with only a cripple and Dickless to play around with."
"Excuse me?"
"I mean, we get it, it's tough," Lyle said. "Being trapped with virgins who can't even lose their virginity no matter how hard you were trying."
Below the table, Trudy's right hand began forming a fist.
"I mean, the hippies are on their way back to Earth so no biggie," Lyle said. "Still, that leaves us with you. Though…" He took the knife in one hand and pointed it at Trudy's head. "Like, you still in there Chacon? When the shit hits the fan, can we count on you?"
"Put that thing away Lyle."
"Or do you want to go back home with Dickless?"
"I said put it away."
"I mean…oh my God, you do," he sneered. He looked at Fike. "I mean, that explains it doesn't it? Doesn't get the juice for months, gets blue-blooded, and-"
Trudy scrambled over the table, punched Lyle, and knocked him to the ground. Second after that, she kept on punching. Not for what he'd said. But for what he hadn't.
They were in a cell on this base. Jake. Grace. Norm. She hadn't put them there. But she'd been on the side that had. At Hometree, she'd tried not to pick a side, but it hadn't changed anything. Nor for her. Not for the na'vi. Not even for humanity, in the hope that it could go somewhere and manage to not wreck up the place for once.
She didn't get to think about that for long. Fike pulled her off Lyle and gave her the one-two himself. She kicked him in the gut, only to be slammed back on the table by Lyle himself. People were yelling. Cheering. Screaming.
No. Not them.
The na'vi were screaming. Justice was screaming. The fists kept coming down, and she tried kicking back, but it was for nothing. She was outnumbered two to one. And against the current of history…totally useless.
"Wainfleet! Fike!"
They pulled off, leaving Trudy on the table. Something was coming out of her nose. Her head was spinning, but she managed to lull it back off the other end of the table.
"Hey Major Nguyen. Did ya know you're upside down?"
The major and the two base security grunts he'd brought with him approached the table. Nguyen made a gesture and the grunts pulled her off the table and got her into a chair. Blood dripped from her nose, landing on her fatigues, mixing in with the flecks of potato and meat. Not Coke, but that had still been spilt, mixing in with the Fanta like some kid's first grade chemistry experiment.
"Mind telling me what happened here?" Nguyen asked.
"Lyle and Fike were dicks sir."
"Not you Chacon."
"But they're dicks sir. Big dicks, acting all…dicky."
"Fuck you Chaon," Lyle said.
Trudy whistled and gave him the finger. Least she hoped she did. Lyle was looking a bit blurry right now.
"Anything to add Wainfleet?" Nguyen asked.
"No sir."
"Fike?"
"No sir."
"Didn't think so." He looked round and gestured to the security grunts. "Get her up."
Trudy felt herself being hauled to her feet. "They started it," she murmured. The grunts started dragging her along. "Totally started it."
She could feel everyone's eyes on her. SecOps. The scientists. The kitchen staff. Most of them in loathing. Some of them in admiration. Not nearly enough to act, but, well…
"Took a stand," she slurred as she was led out. "Like, totally stood up for what was right, y'know?"
She felt herself being put down on a bench in the outside hallway.
"You drunk Chacon?"
She looked up at Nguyen, who had his arms folded. "Nah."
"Good."
"But you don't look good not upside down."
Nguyen sighed and looked to the security grunts. "Get her cleaned up and put on mess duty."
"What?"
"Mess duty. For the next week you're grounded. That means feeding people, cleaning up what they eat, and that includes your friends in the brig."
"They're not my…" She cleared her throat. The thought of seeing them again…Jake…Grace…Norm…that actually didn't sound too bad.
"Anything you want to add Chacon?"
"No sir."
"Anything at all? Because from what I hear, you've got a bit chummy with the eggheads." He leant down, putting a hand on the wall beside Trudy. "Anything you want to tell me Chacon? I mean, you bugging out on Hometree ain't a secret-"
"Then why ain't the colonel here?"
"What the colonel doesn't know won't hurt him."
So Quaritch didn't know about her going AWOL. Interesting. Still, considering that he was the bastard who'd personally overseen the attack, maybe that wasn't surprising. Hard to see who wasn't firing when you were so focused on firing yourself.
"Get to the kitchen Chacon," Nguyen said. "Tree hugging traitors are getting steak as well."
"Last meal before death row then?" Trudy sneered.
"Last meal before being shipped back to Earth."
"So…still death row then."
"Don't get cute with me Chacon. You could be in far deeper shit than you already are."
Trudy wiped some blood off her nose. She held up her hand to the major, the red liquid dripping from her hands and landing on the floor. "Way I see it sir? We're already in deep shit."
Nguyen said nothing. He just walked off in silence. Which was fine as far as Trudy was concerned.
He had no idea what she was already planning.
A/N
I will admit, while I'm not a vegetarian, or even a vegan, I do try to limit meat consumption, and that sure as hell includes beef considering how much land is required to rear cattle. So with that fact becoming more and more apparent, the fact that steak is still served on Pandora, even for "tree-hugging traitors," does make me wonder if a point's being made. I also wondered if the RDA personnel eat any animal-life in addition to material to the Pandoran garden.
...yes, this is me overanalyzing a throwaway line in the film, why do you ask?