Frontier

by Janet Edwards

  I went across to a man sitting at a desk in the corner of the room. “I hope my coming here doesn’t mean anyone else misses their treatment.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to help the Jains, and we’ll catch up the missed appointments within a few days.”

  Chaos, that meant some people would have to portal home without treatment, and come back again another day. They’d make two more lengthy portal trips. They’d go through two more spells of agony. All of that extra suffering was my fault because I’d jumped the queue.

  I remembered how much I’d despised Palmer Nott for boasting about getting his farm ahead of the other boys. I’d done something far worse here, and I wasn’t going to take the easy option of blaming everything on the Jains. The harsh fact was that I’d escaped my pain at the shameful cost of making others suffer, at the unforgivable cost of making children suffer, and I couldn’t do anything to change that. Even if I got the Jains to buy another scanner for this medical centre, I couldn’t magically make another specialist appear to use it.

  I looked at the room full of people, and thought how many more must be on the waiting list. This was why we needed University Miranda. I couldn’t make medical specialists appear now, but perhaps I could do something to help them appear in ten years’ time.

  The Jains had come in and were looking across at me. I went to join them, and we headed out through another door into a large foyer with a central portal. Kellan Jain entered a code, the portal flared to life, and everyone looked at me expectantly.

  I took a deep breath, stepped through the portal, and appeared back in Jain’s Ford Settlement Central. I’d no trace of a headache, and the ground was solidly stable under my feet. A moment later, Rodrish and his parents were standing beside me, studying me.

  “No problems at all,” said Kellan Jain, in a satisfied voice. “Amalie, our whole family except for Bened will be portalling to our new house near Memorial tomorrow. We’ll be staying there during the celebrations to mark Founders Day. Now your portal problem has been treated, I see no reason why you shouldn’t come with us.”

  Inessa Jain smiled at me. “Yes, you must come with us, Amalie. Your own clothes will be perfect for both the Founding Families Reception tomorrow evening, and the official ceremony on Founders Day, because it’s traditional for everyone to dress very simply for those. You’ll need a proper ball gown for the Founding Families Memorial Ball, but that isn’t until the third day. We’ll have plenty of time to get a suitable dress altered to fit you.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” said Rodrish eagerly. “We could announce our betrothal during the Epsilon Sector News live coverage of the celebrations!”

  I pictured Epsilon Sector News showing live coverage of Rodrish kissing me, and tried not to shudder. “It’s very kind of you to invite me to Memorial,” I said, in carefully polite tones, “but I need some recovery time after what happened today. I can’t risk fainting during the Epsilon Sector News live coverage.”

  The three Jains thought that over. “Yes, it might be best if you rest for the next two days, Amalie,” said Inessa Jain. “Rodrish will take you home now. You can come and join us for the Memorial ball on the third day, and we’ll make the betrothal announcement then.”

  “Thank you, but there’s no need for Rodrish to take me home.” I turned back to the portal, selected Lone Tree as my destination, and stepped through. I was frustrated and angry to find Rodrish appearing beside me.

  “I’d rather walk home alone,” I said.

  Rodrish shook his head. “I have to make sure you get there safely. You must still be feeling unwell, or you wouldn’t have said you needed recovery time.”

  “I’m feeling perfectly well,” I said. “I just thought I should wait a day or two before making another long portal trip.”

  “I’d still prefer to see you safely home,” said Rodrish.

  His caring, supportive manner made me want to scream abuse at him. Where had that care and support been when I really needed it? The second I’d mentioned my headaches, Rodrish had turned into a cold, unfeeling, distant stranger. Worse than that, when I’d been sick and distressed, pleading for the Jains to get my mother, Rodrish had physically forced me through the portal.

  Now the headache problem was solved, Rodrish was all loving affection again, and expected us to get married as planned. I was furious with him, desperate to make him leave me alone, but I mustn’t lash out at him the way I had at Shelby Summerhaze. I had to think through the consequences of my actions, not just for me but for my family, before I did anything drastic.

  “I need to go alone so I can stop and talk to Captain Mobele,” I said. “I’ve just realized he won’t know about our Founders Day celebrations.”

  Rodrish frowned. “Captain Mobele avoids people so he won’t want to be at any of our celebrations.”

  “You can’t make other people’s decisions for them,” I said.

  I was aware of the edge of bitterness to my voice, but Rodrish didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. He leaned forward to kiss me.

  “Well, if you insist. I’ll see you on the day of the Memorial ball, Amalie.”

  I watched Rodrish Jain walk through the portal and vanish, then used the back of my hand to scrub away the feel of his lips on mine, and walked off down the track.

  My head was a confused mass of emotions, but I was very sure of two things. I wasn’t Cinders, and I wasn’t going to the Memorial ball.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I found Captain Koulsy Mobele sitting next to his camp fire, eating a bowl of stew. He looked up at me, studied my face for a couple of seconds, and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  I’d come here because everyone I knew would have deeply ingrained loyalty and respect for the Jains. Everyone except Koulsy. He wasn’t just an outsider, but a Military officer from Planet First. He’d no reason to be in awe of the Jains for the hardships and dangers they’d endured, because he’d been through far worse himself.

  I could say things to Koulsy that I daren’t say to anyone else. I could even say the words that I was having trouble thinking in the privacy of my own head. “I’m not going to marry Rodrish Jain.”

  There was something shocking about hearing myself say that, and I choked up at the end of the sentence, but Koulsy gave an untroubled nod. “When we talked first thing this morning, I got the impression that you were having doubts.”

  He used his spoon to point at a metal container standing on the glowing embers at the edge of the fire. “Would you like some stew? There’s far more than I can eat.”

  I knew he wasn’t just offering food, but an invitation to sit and talk with him. “Yes, thank you.”

  I sat on the ground near the fire. Despite the bright sunshine, I found I was grateful for its warmth, and shuffled a little closer to the flames.

  Koulsy put down his bowl, used a stick to hook the metal container clear of the fire, and protected his hand with a corner of blanket as he tipped a helping of stew into another bowl. He passed me the bowl, a spoon, and a chunk of bread, then continued eating himself.

  For the next few minutes, I tried to clear the turmoil of thoughts in my head by focusing on trivial things. The strong taste of the stew, that had been sent from a neighbouring farm and had more seasoning than the stews my mother made. The heat and weight of the bowl, which seemed to be made of the same chunky local china that was used in Mojay’s bar. The strange dent in the handle of the spoon, which looked as if someone had accidentally trodden on it.

  Finally, I’d calmed down enough to speak some more. I put down my half-empty bowl, and turned to face Koulsy.

  “I cared about Rodrish. When he asked me to marry him, I thought that he cared about me too. Silly of me.”

  “It seems a completely reasonable assumption to me,” said Koulsy. “Most people propose marriage because they care about someone a great deal.”

  “Not Rodrish. He wanted his parents to give him a great estate, and thought
marrying the right girl would help his chances. He had a list of things that his parents would want in a daughter-in-law, and I matched the list.”

  I paused and pulled a rueful face. “I should have known something was wrong when Rodrish said we had to keep our betrothal secret until he’d asked for his parents’ approval. I suppose that was a safety precaution. If he’d made a mistake on his list, and his parents weren’t as pleased as he expected, then he could back out of the marriage.”

  “Is that what happened this morning?” asked Koulsy. “Rodrish’s parents didn’t approve, so he broke your betrothal?”

  “Oh, they approved at first,” I said bitterly, “but then they found out about my headaches. They started having second thoughts about me, and Rodrish ... He wouldn’t even look at me. The Jains decided I had to see a specialist immediately, to find out if I was fit to marry into their family or not. I told them that I wanted my mother with me before I went to see the specialist, but Rodrish dragged me through the portal anyway.”

  “What did the specialist say about your headaches?” asked Koulsy.

  I gave a choke of a laugh. “Doc Jumi was right. My headaches were easy to treat. Now Rodrish’s parents are happy, so Rodrish wants to marry me again, but I don’t want to marry him.”

  “You’re sure?” asked Koulsy.

  “I’m perfectly sure.” Anger flared up in me. “I don’t want to marry a man who’ll turn his back on me when I’m in pain and distress. I absolutely refuse to marry a man who’ll use physical force to make me do something against my wishes!”

  There was silence for a moment before Koulsy spoke. “I understand your reasons, and I think you’re making a very wise decision. I don’t wish to be disrespectful to the frontier culture of your world, but by the standards of the Military and worlds in other sectors you’re extremely young to be thinking of marrying anyone. You’ve plenty of time to find a partner you can truly depend on for help when you need it.”

  “I’ll never find another husband on Miranda,” I said. “People disapproved of my friend breaking her betrothal to an ordinary farmer’s son, but they’ll be appalled at me breaking my betrothal to a son of Kellan and Inessa Jain. I can’t expect any man to risk offering me marriage after this. After all, if I announce my betrothal to Rodrish Jain one day, and casually discard him the next, then I’m not going to stick to my word to marry anyone else.”

  Koulsy was frowning. “You think people will blame you for this rather than Rodrish?”

  “I know they’ll blame me. The whole population of Jain’s Ford Settlement has been telling me how lucky I am to be marrying Rodrish. He’s rich, good looking, and a member of the most important Founding Family on Miranda.”

  I waved my hands in despair. “If I try to explain my reasons for breaking my betrothal, they’ll sound ridiculous. Just think about it. I’m complaining because Rodrish wanted his parents to approve of me. I’m whining because he didn’t look at me for a few minutes. I’m angry because he made me have vitally needed medical treatment.”

  “I can see it’s a difficult situation,” said Koulsy.

  “Rodrish seemed so genuinely nice in school,” I added sadly.

  “People show their true characters in a crisis.” Koulsy stood up, collected the bowls and spoons, stacked them on a rock by the stream for washing later, and then returned. “There must be some way to make it clear to people this isn’t your fault.”

  I shook my head. “There isn’t. Even if Rodrish was blatantly in the wrong, everyone would support the Jains. Especially now. This is the worst possible time for me to break my betrothal, because the day after tomorrow is our Founders Day. The day when everyone honours the Military and the Founding Families who gave us Miranda, particularly Kellan and Inessa Jain.”

  “You’d better wait a while before you break your betrothal,” said Koulsy.

  “I can’t,” I said. “I have to tell Rodrish I’m not going to marry him by the morning after Founders Day at the latest, or the Jains will announce the betrothal on Epsilon Sector News.”

  Koulsy groaned.

  “Everyone will hate me, but I may only have to cope with it until the end of this year. A few days ago, my teacher suggested I could study for a degree on another world and return to become a lecturer at University Miranda. If I haven’t left it too late, I’ll accept that offer. I don’t think I’m good enough to keep up with the other students at an off-world university, but I have to at least try.”

  “Your teacher obviously believes you’re capable of getting your degree,” said Koulsy. “This sounds like a wonderful opportunity, but is it truly what you want for your future? You shouldn’t be forced into leaving your home world over a failed relationship.”

  He paused. “Try to imagine the situation if Rodrish was an ordinary farmer’s son. Would you still want to go to another world to study?”

  I ran my fingers through my loose hair, triggering the thought that I’d soon be plaiting it like a single girl again. If Rodrish had been an ordinary farmer’s son, things would have been very different. I’d still have cared about him, still been interested in marrying him, but Mother was right when she said I was her cautious daughter.

  If Rodrish had been an ordinary farmer’s son, I’d have taken longer to re-establish our old friendship, arranged a few meetings before going to see his farm, and asked more questions about what he hoped our marriage would be like. If I hadn’t grown suspicious of his motives before accepting him, I’d have backed away instantly at the suggestion of keeping our betrothal secret, and then ... I knew exactly what decision I’d have made after that. It was the same decision I’d have made if Rodrish had never called me to offer marriage.

  “The fact that Rodrish is a son of the Jains, and knowing how much everyone would approve of me marrying him, probably did pressure me into getting betrothed.” I shrugged. “I’m not being pressured into leaving Miranda though. This is my own choice. The idea of getting my degree and becoming a lecturer at University Miranda both thrills me and terrifies me. I think it will be easiest for me to apply to a university in Gamma sector. Do you know any Gamman worlds?”

  “My parents were assigned to the Asgard solar array for a year when I was 14. We had a dome house on the planet surface, and my parents portalled up to the array to work each day.”

  I blinked at the idea of casually portalling up into space every day. “All I know about Asgard is that it’s the capital planet of Gamma sector and has a huge, scary native species called Asgard bison.”

  “Asgard bison are herbivores, and very friendly animals despite their large size,” said Koulsy. “You don’t want to annoy the Asgard butterflies though, or they’ll give you a sharp bite to remind you to keep your distance. I enjoyed living on Asgard, and ...”

  He broke off his sentence. I’d been so intent on my problems that I hadn’t even looked to see if any moon monkeys were in the almond field, but now they thrust themselves on our attention. A whole troop bounded past us at full speed, the nearest one so close that I could have reached out and touched it. They didn’t turn their heads to look at us, just rushed on towards the thick mass of Mirandan trees in the conservation zone.

  Koulsy gave a startled laugh. “The moon monkeys must be getting really used to me to come that close.”

  I frowned. “Moon monkeys have no reason to be afraid of people, but they are afraid of fire. The troop leaders wouldn’t have brought them past so close to your camp fire unless they were in a real hurry.”

  I stood up and looked anxiously at the sky. I’d been feeling cold ever since I arrived here and blamed it on my distress. Perhaps it had been partly due to that, but the temperature had definitely dropped now, and the wind was picking up. I saw the first black clouds sweeping across the sky, in the distinctive, wave-like motion that could only mean one thing.

  “There’s a storm coming,” I said urgently. “The summer storms come in fast on Miranda, and this looks like it will be a bad one. We need to take shelter
now.”

  “I can’t take shelter,” said Koulsy, “but you’d better get home right away.”

  “There’ll be very high winds,” I said. “Lightning too, and the rain will come down in torrents.”

  Koulsy produced a shiny, cloak-like object, and swung it round his shoulders. “The Military sent me a waterproof cape as well as new uniforms, so I’ll be fine.”

  I groaned in frustration. “You must stay well away from the native Mirandan trees. They grow very fast, they only put down shallow roots, and they’ll fall in a storm like this with no warning at all. That’s why the moon monkeys were in such a hurry. They need to reach the trees in the centre of the forest, because those are sheltered and less likely to fall.”

  Koulsy nodded, kicked some loose stones over his camp fire, and then started methodically folding his blankets and thrusting them into his all-weather sleep sack. “Thank you for warning me. I promise I’ll stay clear of the trees. Now please get home to safety.”

  I felt the first large, cold drops of rain on my face. I wanted to stay longer, try to persuade Koulsy to come with me and shelter in our house, but knew there was no point. Koulsy couldn’t enter our house or barn. He couldn’t even get inside his all-weather sleep sack, so he was using it to keep his blankets dry.

  “Be careful,” I said.

  I grabbed the previous day’s empty lunch pail, sprinted across to the track, and then turned to glance back at Koulsy. He was striding towards the centre of the almond field, the bulky sleep sack tucked under his right arm. His cape billowed round his shoulders, as he faced where the clouds were turning an ominous black with the oncoming storm.

  I stood watching him for a second or two longer, but the gusts of wind were getting stronger, and then the rain started pelting down. I ducked my head and ran down the track towards the farm house, aware of the wind blowing weird, swirling patterns across the fields of medcorn.

  By the time I reached home, I was drenched from head to foot. Mother gave a sigh of relief as I tumbled in through the kitchen door and closed it behind me.