Contents
Title Page
Copyright
The New Headmistress
Acknowledgements
About the Author
The New Headmistress
A Story of the School of Brides
Karen C. Klein
Copyright Information
The New Headmistress
A Story of the School of Brides
Copyright © 2014 Karen C. Klein
Dancing Dragon Press
Cover Design © S.M. Asmussen
Cover Art © mik38
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are fictional,and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts of it, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
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New New Yorke Space Station, Second Month, Twenty-eighth day, 3000 A.E.
Ms. Van Stanton married off the entire group of Blues by the middle of the month. Then again, there had only been ten, and hers was the most prestigious school in the sector of the galaxy. She’d also married off several Hazels and Browns, but none of them were new students.
Shanti met the headmistress in her office and sat down, as Ms. Van Stanton indicated.
“Your parents approve,” Ms. Van Stanton said. “Ms. Striker is paying them quite nicely for having you as a replacement – not as good as a bride price, but better than being in debt to the school. And I get a finder’s fee from your parents’ payment.” She smiled.
“When do I leave?” Shanti said, trying to ignore the sick feeling at the bottom of her stomach. Her lunch sloshed uncomfortably in her stomach.
“Ms. Striker wants you there on First day of Fourth Month.”
“Then today?”
She nodded. “Yes. And Ms. Striker will stay until First day of Seventh Month to help you settle. She is filling in as interim headmistress at New Edinburgh. She often fills in, rather than taking her own school.”
Shanti nodded. Someone would teach her, even nominally, how to be the headmistress. That was more than she’d hoped for when Ms. Van Stanton proposed this situation to her.
“Since this is a hyperspace journey,” she said, “you will be in stasis and won’t wake until your arrival.”
“Hyperspace?” Shanti blanched.
“Yes. We couldn’t get approval fast enough to get you on a regular space ship and have you there in time,” the headmistress said, clicking her teeth together. “A regular space journey to New Edinburgh Space Station would see you there mid-Sixth Month. Much too late. So, I agreed with Ms. Striker a hyperspace journey would be much preferable.”
She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ve your ticket and documentation. You should go pack,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Shanti walked out of the door and to the Hazel group’s dormitory. She found her bed and opened up the trunk by running her thumb over the lock. She looked to see if it had anything missing. She grabbed a picture of her parents she’d tucked on the bedside table she shared with one of her classmates. She looked around and found nothing else that belonged to her.
In the trunk, she had school clothes, a leotard for dance practice, ballet shoes, a single fine gown she’d outgrown. She also had a couple of books from the days when her parents still sent her an allowance.
Shanti shut the trunk and locked it with her thumb. It wasn’t heavy, so she grabbed it and pulled it down the stairs, to wait for Ms. Van Stanton and her instructions. She’d only been on a ship once, when her parents sent her here from the New Savannah Space Station, and that had been in regular space. No stasis involved. The prospect sort of scared her, but she couldn’t tell Ms. Van Stanton that. She needed to project that image of calmness that she saw in her own headmistress.
In the hallway, Ms. Van Stanton waved her over and smiled. “Here is your ticket, papers, and a few credits to get you by.”
“I don’t have any money,” she said, frowning.
Ms. Van Stanton smiled. “It is a gift.”
She nodded and took the packet. Indeed, inside she found everything, including a twenty credit note. “Thank you.”
The headmistress smiled. “You’re welcome. It isn’t often that I find a girl smart enough to become a headmistress. You’re quite well suited to your new situation. Ms. Striker will help you get settled and show you the differences at New Edinburgh Space Station.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, nodding. “It's all so exciting.”
“Do you remember the way to the space port from the school?” Ms Van Stanton said, looking at the door.
Shanti shrugged. “I haven’t left in four years… But it shouldn’t be hard to find.”
Ms. Van Stanton said, “I’ll have one of the maids escort you. We wouldn’t want anything unseemly to happen to you. You are the daughter of an important family.”
“Indeed.” Shanti never saw many men and she imagined that it would mostly be men in the wide world as she walked to the space port. And maybe women of lesser families, who didn’t send to their daughters to school due to the expense.
The girl whom Ms. Van Stanton fetched looked little more than eight or nine. She was too skinny, with dark skin and hair shorn close to the scalp… her parents must have been poor and sold her. Probably for twenty or thirty credits. The girl would serve the school until she died, more than likely. Shanti shook her head and tried not to think unpleasant thoughts. Frowns created wrinkles, so she'd been told, and women needed to stay looking good. Even if they were not to become wives and mothers. She needed to appear like a headmistress. As her mother taught had her: comportment is everything.
She followed the girl from the door to the school into the brightly lit hallway of the space station beyond. It was crowded with people dressed in all manner. The girl walked quickly and Shanti had to hustle to keep up with her. It took them less than ten minutes to reach the space port. When they were done, the girl held out a hand. Shanti didn’t have a credit coin. So she did what her mother would have done and hit the girl over the head for insolence. “Didn’t Ms. Van Stanton teach you better manners? Be thankful for a full belly and a roof over your head. Shoo.” The girl didn’t cry, but merely scampered away.
Shanti squared her shoulders and looked around. She didn’t see any other women of her status. She clung to her packet and held her trunk at an awkward angle.
“Hello,” a young-looking man said, “Can I help you?”
She took an involuntary step back. “Yes. I’m looking for the ship that is boarding for New Edinburgh Space Station.”
He smiled and said, “Why don’t you allow me to take your trunk, miss? I can show you.”
Shanti nodded and followed him. She hadn’t felt this scared since her parents took her to the space port at New Savannah Space Station. “Do you work for the ship?” Shanti said.
He nodded. “I can take your trunk to the cargo area. If you walk to that kiosk over there, the woman can help you with your ticket.”
Shanti smiled and looked at her twenty-credit bill. Then she thought of the small amount of credits in her purse. She pulled the purse out and counted the coins: she had a fiver, and pressed it to the man’s hand. “Thank you for all the help.”
“I can’t take this.”
“Please. You've help me very much,” she said.
He smiled. “If you insist.”
“I do,” she said, and he walked away with her trunk as she walked up to the agent at the kiosk. It shocked Shanti to see a woman at the kiosk. She had lackluster skin, kinked hair, and brown eyes. Definitely not a superior specimen and
not of the upper crust: no important family would be caught dead allowing one of their daughters to work in public. Having a daughter working a teacher or a headmistress in the school was much preferable. A proper woman should not freely engage with unknown men or people of questionable birth. If she must work, then it should be done in her sphere of influence.
“Hello,” the agent said, smiling.
Shanti smiled. “Hello, I am a passenger of the ship.”
“Do you have a chip?”
She blushed and shook her head. “No…I do have papers.”
“Good,” the agent said and indicated for Shanti to give them to her.
She pulled the paperwork out of the packet. The agent scanned each. She repeated Shanti’s name and ID number. Shanti confirmed each, typing them into the pad the agent indicated. “There you are set. If you walk onto the ship, a stewardess will escort you to the chamber where you will rest as you await liftoff.”
Shanti nodded. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” the agent said and began to help the next person.
Shanti looked around the terminal and found the stewardess, a dark-skinned woman who reminded her of her mother. Shanti's mother had always praised her for being paler than the maternal side of the family. However, she was still not as pale as her eldest brother’s blond wife. The stewardess led her to her bunk. “When we reach hyperspace, you will be instructed to buckle in. Be prepared to be led into stasis. Most people prefer not to be awake during hyperspace due to the nausea it causes. Mostly, only experienced pilots and their crews like to be awake. We do not suggest our passengers stay awake.”
“Very well,” she said, setting down her purse, still clutching her packet.
“You can put your things into the locker under the bunk,” the stewardess said.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling.
The stewardess smiled and thanked her politely. Shanti stowed her things and curled up on the bunk, but more tired than she imagined, she fell asleep. The stewardess woke her as they approached hyperspace and helped Shanti to buckle in properly. The stewardess explained that each passenger would be put into stasis and it would last until they neared the port at New Edinburgh Space Station.
Shanti closed her eyes and the world fell away.
***
New Edinburgh Space Station, First Day Fourth Month, 3000 A.E.
Shanti’s stomach rumbled as she awoke from stasis. She looked down at her belly and sighed. The stewardess, who reminded her of her mother, walked down the aisle, offering the passengers water and nourishment. Most people shook their heads at the nutrition bar that she offered them. Shanti’s stomach gurgled at the prospect. She wondered if Ms. Van Stanton hadn’t taught her better than that.
“Are you hungry?” the stewardess asked as she approached Shanti’s aisle.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Here is some water,” she said, handing her a small bottle and a bar. “The nutrition bar goes down easier with some water.” She winked and went to the next passenger.
Shanti drank the water, gratefully, and then bit into the nutrition bar. She quickly realized what the stewardess meant. It was dry and sort of nasty-tasting, but it helped her stomach.
She looked out the window as the ship glided towards the space station. They spent an hour in regular space before picking up the orbit to the New Edinburgh Space Station. The ship hovered in orbit around the space station for a half an hour before it got permission to dock. Shanti couldn’t remember what New New Yorke Space Station had looked like when her parents sent her there, but at the moment, her new home looked intimidatingly large.
No one talked to her on the ship. And she had been taught to not speak until she’d been spoken to, so she stayed silent, until they were given the okay to disembark. Then Shanti followed the crowd into the star port and looked around. Someone mentioned baggage, and she followed a second stream of people to the luggage claim. Shanti found her trunk with enough ease and then realized that she had no idea where she was in relation to the school.
Shanti had lived for years in the three stories of the School of Brides in New New Yorke Space Station. It was unseemly for a young women to leave, especially alone. So they stayed in the school until life endeavored to send them home or marry them off. None of the students really questioned why or how. It was the way that it was done – as Shanti knew. The students were girls from families of quality, the top of what humanity had to offer... Or so their mothers had told them as they brushed our hair. And so the headmistress told her students at her speech… Ms. Van Stanton reiterated the sentiment weekly.
So when Shanti was first approached by Mrs. Banks, the housekeeper of the School of Brides, she didn’t know quite what to make of the brusque, wide woman with medium-brown skin brown eyes and hair swept into a severe bun. “Are you Ms. Shah? My name is Mrs. Banks; I am the housekeeper for your school.”
Shanti smiled and said, “Yes. It is nice to meet you.”
Mrs. Banks gave her an assessing look. “Good to meet you as well, headmistress.”
She blushed. She still didn’t quite feel her new claim to authority. Her hand played with the handle on her trunk.
“Give me your trunk,” the woman said, and lifted the piece of luggage with ease. “I am going to have one of the maids pick it up later.”
“Yes,” Shanti said, leaving off the ma’am. Trying to remember her position of authority.
“Ms. Striker is not a patient woman,” Mrs. Banks said, leaving the trunk off someplace, and continuing to walk. Shanti followed her. “So, you shall be shown to your suite and given a bit of time to get into something other than your travel clothes. Then you shall have tea with her.”
“Very well,” Shanti said, trying to look like a new headmistress and not a confused fifteen-year-old girl. She felt too small, especially since she’d traveled in one of her clean uniforms from school. Thankfully, New New Yorke Space Station had different colors than New Edinburgh - so that she wouldn’t immediately stand out as a student to the others. But she felt obvious to Mrs. Banks. She didn’t know why she worried about what a mere servant thought of her. But she felt Mrs. Banks' assessing eyes and hoped she measured up to what the housekeeper seemed to be looking for. She didn’t think so, but she just squared her shoulders and walked with every ounce of grace she possessed.
The walk from the space port to the school felt like it took forever to Shanti’s space-legs. Mrs. Banks walked briskly. Shanti could only follow the housekeeper's clipped steps down the main corridor of the space station. They passed more people than Shanti had ever seen before. Ms. Van Stanton had sent her down a side corridor of New New Yorke Space Station…she’d never seen the main corridor of that station. Here she felt exposed.
“Is there another way to get to the school?” Shanti asked, twiddling her thumbs. She looked at the floor of the station and realized her steps bounced ever so slightly with it…another thing that was different from the old school and station. They weren’t really home. She had no home.
Mrs. Banks gave her a long look, which made her squirm on the inside. “You can walk - you have two legs.”
Shanti didn’t reply. She did her best to keep up with the housekeeper’s long strides. She lost track of how long they walked - it must have been clear across the space station. Most of the Schools of Brides didn’t want to keep the schools too near the spaceports. Too much riffraff. And too much chance that some raiders might try to take the girls captive.
Such as it was, by the time they reached the door to the school, Shanti panted from the unusual exertions of the day. She felt dizzy, but didn’t want to risk Mrs. Banks' ire by mentioning it. So she stood still as Mrs. Banks pressed her hand into the lock of what looked to be the side door to the school. The entrance door was usually a grand affair. This looked like it entered to a servants’ tunnel… from what little she knew of the design of living space.
Mrs. Banks gave her a once over and said, “You’re in no state to m
eet the girls.”
Shanti nodded. She’d look too much like one of them right now. She wore her uniform from New New York’s school.
“So we’ll get you to the temporary suite through the servants’ corridor,” Mrs. Banks finished as she opened the door. Two maids stood in an alcove near the door. The girls could be no more than twelve. They looked earnestly in the housekeeper’s direction.
“What are you two doing standing about?” she said, “Don’t you have something to do?” She snapped her fingers at them and both girls nodded, curtsied and scurried off in different directions.
Mrs. Banks muttered something about help that Shanti didn’t catch. Fatigue caught up to her. She felt like death on her feet.
Shanti couldn’t recall how long they walked to get to her suite, but she didn’t care because relief washed over her when Mrs. Banks opened the door to her rooms. “These are nice enough, but Ms. Striker will be staying in the headmistress penthouse until such time as she leaves you in charge.”
She nodded.
“Very well. You will find your trunk in the bedroom. I trust you have something suitable to wear to meet with Ms. Striker. You are expected in the drawing room at three.”
“Yes,” she said. “I will be there.”
Mrs. Banks gave her a curt smile. “Get settled then.” Then she vanished as if she’d never been there.
Shanti took off her shoes and wandered from the sitting room to the bedroom. Two whole rooms to herself! The luxury. As a student, the dorms were built according to status. Blue slept three or four to a room. Hazels slept six to a room. And Browns slept ten or more to a room. The furniture appeared to be made of real wood. And upholstered in real silk - not synth. Her parents had been well off, but unable to afford luxuries that weren’t synth. She gazed at the real riches in the room.
Then horror hit her as she realized she didn’t have appropriate attire for tea. Or the credits to buy something new. She walked back into the bedroom and prowled through her trunk - she turned up school uniforms, a stodgy chapel dress, and her too-small gown from her parents visit last year. It was cinnamon colored synth-silk. The color complimented her skin. She dug back into the trunk and pulled out a synth-wood box. In it held her jewelry. Out of the pieces in the box she chose a green-turquoise that really highlighted the green in her eyes.
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