by E. M. Foner
By the time the Cricks were all sorted out, everybody had returned home from the last round of pre-nuptial alien rituals and settled in for an impromptu fashion show. Kevin’s father couldn’t convince anybody else that it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding, and Dorothy was in all her glory showing off her high-tech wedding gown and heels to her “country” in-laws. After the grand finale, the dogs perked up and began thumping their tails, a sign of friendly visitors.
“Hello?” Woojin called from the bottom of the ramp. “Permission to board?”
“Permission granted, Captain,” Joe hollered back, and explained to the Cricks, “An old friend who is currently in command of EarthCent’s circuit ship, sort of.”
“We read about it in the Galactic Free Press,” Mary said. “Flower sounds…interesting.”
“Wolfy,” a three-year-old girl cried, running into the room and throwing herself at Beowulf’s belly. Then she wound her arms partway around his massive neck and immediately fell asleep.
“Em is all tired out from the excitement,” Lynx informed them as she and Woojin followed their daughter in. “We would have been here a few hours ago, but there’s a Horten colony ship undergoing some emergency repairs out there, and Flower insisted on stopping to offer advice. Needless to say, it wasn’t well received.”
“Behind you!” Shaun shouted, his eyes bugging out of his head.
Woojin ducked and spun around at the same time, prepared for combat, then straightened up again and gave the Crick patriarch a sour look. “Is that an acceptable greeting at some place I’ve never visited?”
“It’s going to get you!” Shaun insisted, putting a table between himself and the new arrival.
“I’m more likely to get YOU if you don’t keep a civil tongue in your head,” M793qK rubbed out on his speaking legs. “Now I understand why Human doctors stopped making house calls.”
“I apologize for my father,” Kevin said to the Farling, then turned to his parents. “This is the doc that saved my life after I escaped from the pirates, Dad.”
“Still looks like a giant bug to me,” Shaun insisted.
The large beetle grabbed one of the carbon fiber chairs that could support his bulk when he rested on the rigid underside of his carapace. He leaned forward on it, taking his time examining the Cricks. “You two are interesting,” M793qK finally commented, waving a foreleg at Becky and her oldest daughter. “I’ve never seen a mage’s aura on Humans before. In fact, other than the occasional Verlock, the only other time I saw such an astral bloom was on a Teragram, but thankfully, the Stryx saw off the last one to visit the station.”
“My in-laws are prophets,” Dorothy explained to the Farling. “And Baa is back and sort of working with me. You’ll see her at the wedding.”
“Oh, joy,” the alien doctor declared facetiously. “Well, I’d love to stay around and chat, but I have some old patients to check up on, and we’re only here for a few of your time-deficient excuses for a day. I’ll just stop next door to look in on Aisha and the little one on my way out.”
“The doctor really seems to have softened up,” Kelly remarked to Lynx after the beetle left.
“He and Flower go on about humans to each other for hours on end,” the former cultural attaché informed the ambassador. “I think it lets them both get it out of their systems. Can we help with any last-minute wedding preparations? Are you having it here?”
“We reserved the medieval castle in Libbyland,” Kelly told her, as if that had been the plan all along. “I have the film for your camera, and we’ll be getting there an hour before the official starting time, so it would be great if you could break a couple of pictures for the album.”
“Snap,” Lynx told her.
“Break, snap, what’s the difference? So how are things going on the mission? I always wondered if you could speak your mind in the holoconferences with Flower listening in all the time.”
“It’s fun, though maybe less so for Woojin than I, because Flower second-guesses everything he does and keeps track of the outcomes. I mean, Dollnick AI doesn’t come anywhere close to the Stryx, but Flower is still so far ahead of us that she may as well be doing magic. She’s had almost twenty thousand years to come up with ways to manipulate biologicals.”
“Does she still make everybody come out of their cabins for morning calisthenics?”
“I’ll put it this way. I’ve never been in such good shape in my life.”
Twenty
“Bridesmaids and groomsmen,” Dorothy called out. “Take your places for our practice run.”
“Why are the alien guests all here already?” Kevin whispered to her.
“It must be their ‘Early is on time’ thing. Didn’t you notice that Czeros was at the bar when we arrived?”
“Do you put males on one side and females on the other, or is it boy-girl?” a Vergallian inquired.
The ambassador’s daughter puzzled for a moment over who the handsome alien might be, and then realized with a start that it was Affie’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, Stick. Dorothy gave herself a little nod on this new confirmation of how the clothes make the man, especially when she made the clothes.
“Males on Kevin’s side, females on my side,” the girl instructed everyone. “Do you have to wear that rapier, Judith?”
“If the men are wearing swords then I am too,” the EarthCent Intelligence trainer replied stubbornly.
“The swords are just a last minute addition that Jeeves suggested to go with the décor,” Dorothy said. She made a sweeping gesture that took in the suits of armor and wall-mounted weapons that gave the great hall its medieval ambiance. “Besides, that scabbard clashes with the color of your dress.”
“I’ll wear it for you,” Bob offered. “It’s got to be lighter than the sword I got stuck with.”
“Just stay where I can see you,” Judith grumbled, undoing the narrow sword belt she’d improvised for her bridesmaid dress and handing it over. “And don’t try to draw it or you’ll put somebody’s eye out—probably your own.”
The wedding party took a minute or two to sort itself out by height, and then had to do it all over again when Dorothy explained that the shortest members went on the inside. Finally, they were all arranged, and Lynx finished fiddling with the f-stops on her antique 35mm camera and began clicking away.
“Your mother told me to wait on the family pictures until after the ceremony,” Lynx told the bride when she finished the basic wedding party shots. “All of the alien dignitaries are already here and she doesn’t want to risk delaying the starting time.”
“That’s fine by me,” Kevin said. He beckoned to his sister, who had just emerged from the improvised changing room where she had swapped her homespun clothes for formal prophetess robes. “We’re ready for the trial run, Sis.”
“Why are you getting married in front of an SBJ Fashions banner?” Becky demanded. “As a prophetess of Nabay, I can’t be seen endorsing any commercial products.”
“There’s a giant mosaic of some guy presenting a bloody head on a tray behind it,” Dorothy explained. “I don’t know what we would have done if Jeeves hadn’t saved the banner from our last trade show.”
“Bob Steelforth, Galactic Free Press,” the reporter introduced himself to the prophetess. “Our publisher and editor-in-chief will both be here for the ceremony. I promise we can airbrush you out of any pictures we publish that show the banner.”
“Very well,” Becky conceded. “Does somebody have the rings?”
Samuel and Vivian produced the gold bands and showed them to the prophetess, who nodded in approval.
“Excellent. I’ve done hundreds of weddings and I’ve learned that it always pays to make sure about the rings. Now, are you positive you want to skip walking down the aisle?”
“Definitely,” Dorothy said. “It turns out that the only time the other tunnel network species do something like that is for a public demotion or getting kicked out of
their militaries. I don’t want to make the guests uncomfortable.”
“Then face each other and we’ll begin. I’m going to tell you what you’ll be saying, but don’t actually exchange the vows yet, because the Prophet Nabay taught that repeating a thing is like doing it in reverse.”
“Then we better repeat the vows twice since we’re already married,” Kevin joked.
“What did you say?” Becky fixed her brother with a penetrating stare. “Answer honestly, now. You’re already married?”
“Just under Frunge law. It was a contractual thing we did by accident. There wasn’t a ceremony or any of that.”
The prophetess blanched. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I can’t marry you under these circumstances.”
“What do you mean?” Dorothy practically shouted. “We’re starting in less than twenty minutes!”
“You’re already married,” Becky replied sadly. “The rules are the rules.”
“But it’s your religion,” Kevin objected. “You can change the rules.”
“What kind of prophetess would I be if I manipulated our theology for the benefit of my family?”
“I could get Woojin to do it as a ship’s captain,” Lynx offered. “But I don’t know if it counts unless we move the wedding to Flower.”
“Metoo!” Dorothy cried, as the young Stryx floated up to the wedding party wearing a one-armed tuxedo with empty pants legs that fell just short of the deck. “You used to be the High Priest of Kasil. Talk some sense into her.”
“Hello, Rebecca,” Metoo addressed the prophetess, bobbing in lieu of a formal bow. “Those robes suit you quite well.”
“Thank you, Your Former Eminence. We have a bit of a problem and I need your theological advice.”
Dorothy activated her old private channel to the Stryx over her implant and begged him, “Make something up. Improvise.”
“I understand,” Metoo said out loud. “The station librarian has explained that there is an existing legal marriage. Kevin’s revealing this now is a blessing in disguise as otherwise the marriage would have been truly reversed.”
“So can’t the prophetess just perform the ceremony twice, one to undo the old marriage, and once for real?” Samuel asked.
“It’s specifically prohibited,” Becky replied.
“The solution is simple,” Metoo said. “All you have to do is find another couple willing to get married so the prophetess can perform the ceremony for them. The volunteers can stand behind Dorothy and Kevin so that nobody will know who Rebecca is actually addressing.”
“That’s perfect,” Dorothy said. “Wait. What?”
“He’s right,” the prophetess said. “We don’t use names in our wedding ceremonies, that all gets filled in on the contract after the eating and dancing.”
“Another contract?” Kevin groaned.
“You won’t be getting one, little brother. The contract is for the couple that’s really getting married.”
“But where am I supposed to find two people willing to get married at my wedding?” Dorothy demanded.
“I’m game,” Bob spoke up.
“You’re WHAT?” Judith shouted from the other side of the supposed bride and groom.
“Come on, Jude. I’ve asked you a dozen times and you keep complaining that it’s too expensive or that it’s just a meaningless hassle. We’re already here, this won’t cost us a cred, and you don’t have to do any planning or deal with your family. Besides, when’s the next time you’re going to wear a dress this nice?”
“Oh, please,” Dorothy begged her. “I won’t bother you at work to model clothes for me anymore.”
“You’ve already promised me that on four different occasions.”
“But I mean it this time.”
Bob approached Judith, who was scowling up a storm, and dropped to one knee. “Would you please just marry me already, Jude?”
“I’d rather knight you, but you took my sword.” She ruffled his hair with her hand, which, combined with his soulful eyes, made the reporter look around half his age. “Oh, all right, but this doesn’t change anything, and I get to wear my rapier.”
“Give it to her, Bob,” Dorothy instructed the successful suitor. “Vivian, you stay close after giving me the ring, and Samuel, you do the same for Kevin. Nobody will notice them behind us if you get the angles right.”
“Then that’s settled,” the prophetess said in a business-like manner. “Once we’re all standing at the front and the music stops—do you have musicians?”
“Death and Plague, I mean, Mornich and his band. They’re already set up at the other end of the hall.”
“What will they be playing when we’re ready to start?”
“Some instrumental from Horten weddings. I forgot what it’s called.”
“Perfect,” Becky said. “When the instrumental ends, I’ll ask you to face one another and repeat after me, ‘With this ring, thee I wed.’ Then you’ll exchange rings.”
“And?”
“That’s the whole thing. We adopted the ceremony from the Kasilians.”
“It’s too short! You’ve got to say something else or everybody will feel cheated.”
“I could start with a teaching from the Prophet Nabay,” Becky offered.
“Anything is fine,” Dorothy said. “Just stretch it out a couple minutes.”
“We don’t have rings, and you’ll need yours or it will look funny,” Bob pointed out. “I’ll just run down to the concourse shops and buy something.”
“Don’t spend more than twenty creds,” Judith said, grabbing his arm.
“You don’t have time,” Vivian spoke up. “You can use our couple’s rings. Give Judith your ring, Samuel, so she can exchange with Bob.”
“It doesn’t come off,” the boy admitted, and the blood crept into his face as the wedding party laughed knowingly.
“I forgot,” Vivian said. “I have to use my ring to draw it off.”
“Your fingers are really thin,” Judith told the willowy sixteen-year-old. “The ring will never fit me.”
“They resize,” Vivian informed her. “It’s Verlock memory metal, tricky stuff. The smaller one is always the master.”
“I think we’ve covered just about everything,” the prophetess said. “After you exchange the rings, I’ll just get out of the way like I’m doing now.” Becky turned to Metoo. “I only have a few minutes to work up a teaching. Could you help, Your Former Eminence?”
“I’d be honored to contribute to the wedding,” Metoo replied, and floated off alongside the prophetess.
“Everything resolved, right on schedule,” Kevin said, hoping that Dorothy would forgive him for his previous gaffe. “The human guests are finally starting to arrive.”
The Drazen ambassador and his wife, Shinka, rose from their seats on the first row of benches, which were reserved for family and ambassadors. Hand in hand, they approached the wedding party.
“Goodbye, Dorothy McAllister,” Bork stated formally.
“Goodbye, Dorothy McAllister,” Shinka repeated in her musical voice.
“That was just a practice run,” Dorothy protested. “You can’t be leaving already.”
“It’s a Drazen tradition to bid farewell to the bride-to-be as a single woman before the ceremony,” Bork explained. “I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world. Besides, we haven’t eaten yet.”
“He turned down an acting gig for this,” Shinka announced proudly. “He hasn’t done that since our daughter cut her third set of teeth.”
“Oh, well, thank you for saying goodbye. We’ll be starting the real wedding in just a few minutes.” Dorothy elbowed Kevin. “Look, our parents are all coming up to see if something’s wrong. Don’t you say anything.”
“Hello, Princess,” Joe deployed his old pet name for Dorothy for the first time in at least a decade and received a hug in return. “Did the rehearsal go smoothly?”
“Fine, but the ceremony turns out to be a little less impressive than I w
as hoping. The Kasilians take simplicity to a new level.”
“How about adding something from my family’s traditions?” Kelly suggested. “When my parents got married, my mother says they finished the ceremony with my father stomping on a light bulb wrapped up in a cloth napkin.”
“Why?” Dorothy asked.
“What’s a light bulb?” Kevin added.
“I attended a wedding like that myself back in the day,” Shaun said. “The antique electric light fixtures back on Earth used a glowing wire in a thin glass bulb. I think they stomp on them for the popping sound. I remember somebody at the wedding commenting that light bulbs were getting hard to find because the technology had been replaced.”
“Maybe you could wrap up a wine glass and nobody would know the difference,” Joe chipped in. “I doubt there’s a light bulb to be had on the whole station.”
“Good idea. We can create our own tradition and preparing it will give Kevin something to do while I go attach my train,” Dorothy said. “Are you helping, Mom?”
“Of course. I thought you looked a bit less voluminous than last time I saw you in the dress.”
“You must have invited half of the Grenouthians on the station,” Bork commented to Joe as the two headed back to their seats. They were forced to dodge a horde of bunnies who were guiding floating immersive cameras and carrying various types of lighting reflectors.
“It’s the whole crew from Aisha’s show. Jeeves hired them to record the wedding.”
“Why would he do that? Surely the station librarian would be happy to turn over the security imaging.”
“It’s his present to Dorothy, or part of it. I remember twenty-five years ago when Paul first brought him home for a game, I thought that Jeeves was some kind of AI juvenile delinquent. But I have to admit that he’s taken good care of my daughter at work. I can’t imagine any other business giving her the leeway she’s had in spending money, especially on herself.”
The young Stryx in question floated up behind Joe and placed his pincer on the former mercenary’s shoulder, causing the man to jump. “I always have ulterior motives,” Jeeves said. “Congratulations on marrying off your daughter a second time. Is she hiding somewhere working on last-minute modifications to her dress? I was talking with Drilyenth, the Verlock scientist who handles the engineering side of Dorothy’s designs, and we concluded that between the heels and the train, your daughter is wearing technology that couldn’t have been developed on Earth for at least another three million years.”
