Yes it was facetious to air the question . Even if she wanted to escape the silence and the confinement with only herself for company, the truth was—she wanted off the crazy world more.
Her second day aboard mirrored the first, as did the third. If Captain Sullivan was in a hurry to leave, he showed no sign of it. Though, good as his word, the ship remained secure and no one approached or tried to board. Not even when they replaced equipment on the exterior hull. Bored with the lack of real news and oddly unhappy about the constant barrage of positivity available on the local channels, she began to explore the ship.
The captain had returned to the ship each night, but not once had he sought her out or said anything to her. Tika checked the other hatches along what she’d begun to call the crew deck. Most were empty save for the bed and facilities as hers had been—thankfully the computer had directed her to some blankets and other supplies. It had even increased the ambient temperature in her room so it wasn’t so damn cold.
On the fourth day, they departed without anyone stopping them. Perhaps that was why she’d finally been able to sleep. The slumber, however, had left her restless.
She followed a ladder leading up from the crew deck and waited for the computer to chastise her. When no such comment was made, she achieved the top of the ladder and stepped through a hatch to glance around. It was quite obviously the control center or cockpit for the vessel though it had three chairs. Each sat before a console, but only the central one was occupied.
Seated with his booted feet resting on the computer console, he seemed preoccupied, reading from a data pad. All of the deck chairs had been bolted to the floor, most likely to keep them from movement during flight. Then again, what she didn’t know about ships could likely fill volumes.
“Did you need something Miss Anderson?” The semi-bored comment pulled her from inspecting the area to find the captain staring at her. That hat he’d worn everywhere except within the pub sat on the panel to his right. He did seem to have forgone his duster, but his clothing didn’t suggest a ship’s captain or even a military background. In fact, his garb seemed far more reminiscent of a farmer than a captain.
“I just wanted to come and say hello, morning… Or is it afternoon?” She lost track of time without access to windows to measure the track of the suns. Since leaving New Athens, sleep had been hard to come by due to the threat of capture dogging her every step. Even aboard the passenger cruiser, she'd only slept in little fits and starts worried that in any minute they would come for her and drag her back. The last thing she expected while on New Genesis, even though she known they were coming, was to see the actual bounty hunters
“Ship’s time.” At first she thought Shaw asked her, but then the computer answered.
“Ship time is currently 1500 hours.”
Midday then. She’d slept for hours longer than she’d realized. Tika ran a hand over her face. “I should probably make something to eat. Would you like something?”
“I'm fine.” Sound dismissal underscored his every syllable.
“Are you sure?” Since she was the passenger and he’d done her a favor, she had to ask. “How is your face doing?”
“I don't need anything.”
Perhaps he didn’t want to talk to her, except… “I never really got a chance to say thank you.” She found herself trembling with nerves, but she pressed on. “I knew the minute I approached you and said I needed your help, something might happen, but I didn’t expect them to target you so directly. I think they might have killed you and that would’ve been my fault.”
“The only fault lies with those started the fight. You didn't ambush me or swing a fist. I do recall you using your cattle prod to save my life, which is why you are on board now. So you do not need to thank me. Feel better now?”
It was the least comforting comfort she’d ever received. Yet, strangely, it did assuage her. “I kept looking at the news, while we were still on New Genesis. I wanted to see if they captured the men, but I never saw anything about them.”
Shaw sighed, closed the screen he’d been staring at then looking at her again. “You wouldn't. New Genesis does not promote criminals, not for misbehaviors of any type, nor give face time to those caught violating their laws and customs. Instead, their criminals are immediately deported to their harvest moon where they are consigned to purgatory working in their factories. Citizenship is revoked, and they have to serve time in order to earn it once more.
How did they not advertise such punishments? It seemed so very harsh. What if she had broken their laws? Would she have ended up in one of their factories? “Does that go for any laws violated?
The captain shrugged and dropped his feet from where they rested to the deck. Standing, he said, “Apparently. All five of the men who participated in the assault were arrested and summarily deported. I filed a report with constable’s office after I secured you aboard. As I had all of their ID cards, and they had port security cameras, the men were rounded up in short order then sent away.”
So weird that they didn’t report the incident on the news “Is that why they only do good news stories?”
“According to the constable I spoke with, they found over the last 200 years that by only promoting those who do good deeds, perform good actions, and take care of their neighbors, they encourage that behavior in their entire citizenry. It's about bunch of horseshit if you ask me, but it seems to be working for them.”
The captain extended his hand, motioning her to step back down the ladder and she retreated immediately, intent on making way for him. Instead of following her, however, he said, “You can probably research their history, since Zed downloaded several of their tomes before we departed.” Then he closed the hatch leaving her out of the cockpit.
Well, that was rude.
* * *
Time on the ship passed with excruciating slowness. Tika didn't think it was possible to be as bored as she was currently. She’d cleaned her room, straightened the lounge, made salads, cleaned up after the salads. She’d even read the history of New Genesis. If possible, it was far more tedious than simply staring at the ship walls. The salads were filling, but lacked anything worth celebrating. If the captain ate, he did it when she wasn’t around. A part of her wanted to prepare a meal for him, but she wasn’t sure what he ate or how to fix anything other than salad.
While she didn’t expect him to entertain her, she had thought he might at least converse with her. The need to move warred with her need to stay out of his way, so instead of seeking the cockpit, she went in search of the hold. They came aboard via the access deck, and it had space down there. Maybe she could exercise or do something helpful, like organize it.
At the access hatch, she considered whether it would be locked or not. The portal opened with one twist of the release. An unlocked door meant guests were allowed to enter, right? Inside, she found a series of storage containers stacked along one side.
On the other side, a two wheeled plasma propelled vehicle leaned against the wall. A second four wheeled ground vehicle parked behind it. The wide tires reminded her of those designed for travel over uneven terrain with a wide base that would avoid larger rocks. It also had a cable on the back as well as a place to secure a cart, maybe for hauling on and dropping off the storage units. She continued the circuit of the all crates, which were marked numbers without any definitions on their labels. Probably better that way, as she might be tempted to open one if she knew what was in them.
Beyond the stack were two oversized metal containers, each nearly twice as long as they were tall. Each bore a screen with a digital readout. The numbers and changing colors didn’t make much sense, yet the longer she stared the more she began to sort out the reports. Respiration. Pulse. Temperature.
Placing her palm against the cool metal, she closed her eyes and felt the vibrations of the containment unit. What could he be transporting in stasis?
“What the hell are you doing?” His voice sliced through the sil
ence.
Adrenaline flooded her system at the arrival of the captain. She jerked away from the module, guilt and shame vying for dominance on their race through her system. Facing him, she said, “Taking a walk.” At his hard eyed stare, she swallowed. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have been touching the device. I just wanted to stretch my legs, and I guess curiosity got the better of me.”
“You don’t need to be down here.”
Hearing the underlying order, she abandoned the module and climbed the ladder stairs back to the hatch. He stepped aside, and she hurried back onto the deck. After closing the hatch, he secured it. The slide, click and hiss of air warned her it wouldn’t be so readily accessible the next time.
“It’s off limits.” No explanation, simply the order.
“Of course.” She hurried to escape, but instead of letting her flee, he followed her.
“Miss Anderson, why are you running?”
Halting, she pivoted to face him. “I’m not running from you.” It was a lie, but it would have to do. “I was just getting out of your way.”
“Why were you running on the planet? Why are bounty hunters coming after you?”
Did he not believe her when she said she’d fled an arranged marriage? “I told you before.” While she spoke, he continued his approach, and she backed away a couple of steps. When he entered the kitchen area, she had no choice but to follow him if she wanted to continue speaking. “My father likely sent the bounty hunters.”
“Because you pulled a runaway bride?” Doubt etched every syllable. “What are they going to do? Drag you back, plant you in front of a preacher, and force you to accept the vows?”
“Yes.” It was exactly what would happen. “Until my twenty-second birthday, I am legally my father’s property. He can make all decisions for me until then.”
For a split second, she thought surprise might have crossed his face. Then his eyes narrowed. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen.” Young, but not too young. Certainly old enough to know she didn’t want to get married. Spreading her hands, she said, “In three years, his decision will no longer bind me to any contracts or promises he’s made. I just have to stay out of his hands until then.”
“Say you don’t marry his choice, so what?”
“It could cost him a great deal of money. He will have to pay a fine to the groom’s family…lose investments.” It seemed almost disloyal to have to explain the merchant system of her people, one which had served them well. Even if she didn’t agree with it, she understood the purpose. “On New Athens—on all of the Greek planet states—family is everything. Who you are, where you come from, it all informs employment choices, education, even advancement. In order to facilitate advancement, alliances are made between wealthier merchants. Investments, if you will, into the future.”
“Through marriage?” The absolute disgust in his tone chastised her and heat flooded her cheeks all over again.
Lifting her chin, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Yes, Captain, through marriage. It’s a guaranteed method of making sure both families are equally invested in the successful outcome. Both will invest equal amounts because both stand to gain equally.”
He began to gather items from the various storage cabinets including meat. The red color of the beef left her stomach growling. She flattened her palm against her abdomen at the betraying sound.
“Continue,” he urged her.
“Well, there's not much else to go on about. Arranged marriages happen all the time. They are business transactions. One member from each family is married off. In most cases, the contract lasts no less than three years and no more than seven. During the course of the marriage, accounts are merged and resources are shared by each of the participating families in the names of the married couple in order to build better business opportunities.”
The captain used a knife and began sectioning strips of steak. Pausing, he gave her a long stare then shook his head. “So, you marry for money? A business transaction?”
Tika almost laughed. It was the most accurate assessment of the arrangement. “Yes, the couple earn 50% of the overall profits, while the other 50% is divided between the two families upon completion of the initial contract. If the couple separates, which does happen, they then split the remaining assets between them and use their profits to invest in their future lives.”
“Huh.”
The lack of additional commentary didn’t reduce the sensation of her being judged. “What an individual does with their profits is up to them. Their families have no legal say over it. I know one couple who actually funded the opening of a gallery with their profits after they separated. They are still business partners, though they married others. It is believed that once you are fiscally secure, then you may marry for emotion as you wish. Of course, contracts are always advised in order to protect the assets brought into the marriage, but they are usually negotiated by the individuals at that point and not by their families.”
Utterly practical and devoid of emotional entanglements, which in turn preserved their economy and community.
“I gather, from the bounty hunters after you, that you didn’t approve of your father’s business venture, at least not where you are the asset?”
“No, and while I appreciate the end goal, the last thing I wanted to do was get married. I couldn’t tell them what I did want, because I don’t know. Being sold to the highest bidder didn’t appeal to me nor did accepting the son of the family my father wants to do business with. Maybe my parents will never speak to me again, but it is a risk I am willing to take.” Even if she had no serviceable skills beyond her name and family to make her way in the universe.
Done with slicing the steak, he continued on to chop vegetables and more. “What happens to your family if you don’t return?”
“My father pays a fine. The groom’s family will likely be negotiating contingency marriages if the option on the initial contract isn’t exercised. The groom’s family still profits, and they can make another marriage. It’s rather win win for them.”
“Come again?” The captain stared at her, and she wanted to crawl back into her room and hide. Talking about herself as though she were nothing more than an item to be bartered for embarrassed her.
Still, she’d been hungry for conversation for days, so better to press on. “For more than two hundred years, since the planet states were settled, the alliance marriages have helped to keep all of the colony worlds profitable and their people satisfied. Real—love based—marriages happen, but only after they’ve established a wealthy bank balance to create independence.”
“Clearly independence must be the goal. That's why they sent a bounty hunter to come and get you. They unquestionably love your independence.”
Trying to ignore his disapproval, she clasped her hands together. “Yes, I understand how it sounds. They truly believe that the young are prone to being too impulsive make strategic visions for themselves without an alliance. These allow them to make a fiscal investment in future.”
“What stops you from going, say, fiscally irresponsible after their vaunted arrangement when you are allowed to make decisions for yourself?”
“Well, it won’t be their money or resources being squandered. It would be my own.”
“And if you get pregnant? I’m assuming sex is on the table in these business transactions. What happens if anyone has kids in these lovely little arrangements of yours? Are they just assets to be divided amongst the families? Do you cut them in ones or twos? Or simply split the time?” More disapproval, but she refused to let his judgment shut her up.
“It doesn't really matter. I’m not going to marry him nor get pregnant.” Discomfort or not, she added, “And sex, like every other aspect of the marriage, is all negotiated ahead of time.”
He layered the meat and vegetables together into a pan, then set it on the burner. Soon the heat had the meal sizzling and the scent tempted her more than the promise of freedom.
&n
bsp; “Sounds like a recipe for disaster,” he informed her.
“The success rates would dispute your claim.” Was she really defending the institution? “Every contract is unique, and no one enforces a sex clause. The negotiations are usually about parental custody, if there are any children, and about the amount the children earn as part of the arrangement. Couples may find they are not compatible, but they work together until the contract term is complete.”
Shaw laughed, his deep baritone filling the kitchen services area. “Do you have to negotiate the sex then? Yourselves? After they’ve sorted everything else out for you.”
“If you must know, yes.” The more they talked about the subject, the easier it became for her. “Most couples have never even met when they are married. I hadn’t met the man my father selected for me. Because of this, we’re given a period of adjustment, usually at a private retreat, where they can get to know each other. Afterwards, they may elect to live with one family or the other, or establish their own household.”
When he said nothing, Tika grimaced. “All sexual relations and their initiation is reserved strictly to the couple. No one expects them to suddenly develop great feelings of affection, though it's been known for some couples to become so inebriated at the wedding celebrations that, well, you know…”
Her companion nodded once. “Oh yeah, I know all about inebriation and making bad choices.”
“It's a very civilized manner for relationships. The couple may become attracted to other and decide to make more decisive moves. If there is a child, they may initiate the renegotiation of the overall contract.”
“I’m going to regret asking this,” he said as he nudged the steak strips around. “Renegotiation?”
The conversation had definitely dipped into the inappropriate with a relative stranger. Yet, she persevered because some conversation was better than none. “As I said earlier, during the marriage contract negotiations, all investments and united business opportunities created by the marriage are divided between families and the couple. It’s a fifty-fifty split. If a child is born, it is renegotiated to a 33 1/3 split between the families, the couple, and the child. The percentage shifts for each child born.”
Space Cowboy Survival Guide Page 5
