A Planned Improvisation (12 page)

“More than I probably ought to, considering I’ll have to deal with him eventually,” Park admitted, “but if that guy starts screaming to Arn, it will probably only get worse. I can promise to have a talk with McArrgh and that will probably be that.”

“Unless he demands an apology,” Marisea told him. She passed on Park’s instructions, however, and the rest of the trip was uneventful. They arrived over Van Winkle Town just as the first light of the day touched the runways of the port.

Only one ship could land safely at a time, however so Park allowed
National
to land first as
Phoenix Child
flew behind and above as though acting as a shield. Then Tragackack turned
Phoenix Child
around and they came to a landing on old runway and then taxied to the terminal beside the waiting
National
.

Park and his crew disembarked as quickly as possible but were still surprised to see that the
National’s
hatch had not yet been opened. “I guess we didn’t need to rush,” Park told the others. “Well, let’s go join the reception line.”

“Captain,” Garro requested. “If you don’t mind I’d prefer to get back to sleep.”

“I wish I could,” Park told him. “Go ahead. Anyone else? No? Good enough.” Park looked around and spotted Iris. She had changed into a one of her better dresses – one she wore on formal occasions among the Mer. As he looked around everyone seemed to be well dressed except for him. Park was still wearing a pair of jeans and a white workshirt.

It was another few minutes before the hatch opened, during which Park asked Rebbert, “Is this sort of wait normal? Seems to me they would want to air the ship out as soon as possible.”

“I agree,” Rebbert nodded. “Even the best recycling systems cannot completely scrub ship’s air of all smells over the course of a long voyage. I know I always delight in that first breath of fresh air. Sweeter than candy, but the bride’s mother has a sense of the dramatic and is no doubt intent on keeping us waiting until just the right moment.”

“Is she the sort who believes one should always be fashionably late?” Park asked.

“Fashionably late,” Rebbert mused, “an interesting notion. Perhaps yes. I do know she likes to show up to an event after most others so that when announced all will hear her name.”

“She’s likely to be disappointed with our reaction then,” Park replied. “None of the Van Winkle colonists had much to do with high society back in the past and the Mer pride themselves on punctuality. It is common for a Mer to intentionally show up to an appointment a little early and then wait, just out of sight, until they can be greeted by the host at his or her door. It is considered rude to show up early and catch the host unprepared or to show up late and therefore leave him waiting.”

“I wonder if I can convince some of the Mer to immigrate to Dennsee,” Rebbert mused. “I could use a little more punctuality like that. It’s bad enough they had to wake us all up in the middle of the night, but to then keep us waiting when we could be eating breakfast… Well, if Lady Gallsee is behind this, I may have to find a way to remind her of a guest’s responsibilities. Oh good they’re opening the door at last.”

As the hatch opened, Rebbert led everyone to the foot of the stairway leading down from it. There was another pause before someone appeared in the open hatchway, but finally a woman, who Park estimated was in her early twenties, stepped through and stood at the top of the stairs. Like Dannet and Rebbert, she had green skin, but her hair was blonde with greenish highlights. She was wearing a blindfold of iridescent cloth that matched her long, flowing gown which flashed the whole range of colors in the early morning sunlight.

A moment later another woman in a similar albeit simpler gown, stepped beside her and assisted her down the stairs. When they finally reached the bottom, Rebbert took the blindfolded woman’s hands in his own and greeted her, “Melise of Gallsee, welcome to this place.”

“Where are we, sir?” Melise asked nervously. It seemed it was a question she was not supposed to ask as it was accompanied by a soft gasp from her companion.

“In the place, more or less, of your wedding, of course.” Rebbert replied with a chuckle.

“Yes, of course,” Melise replied. “Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Rebbert told her. “Most brides in your position would ask, I should think, or they ought to. I would introduce everyone who is here to welcome you, but that might give it away as well. Are you hungry?”

“I fear I am too nervous to eat,” Melise apologized, “but I hope I am not keeping you from your dinner.”

“Breakfast, actually,” Rebbert replied. “Your arrival was, uh, interestingly timed. Perhaps a cup of tea to steady your nerves?”

“I would like that, sir,” Melise told him. “How long until…”

“Your wedding?” Rebbert finished for her. “Directly after breakfast, I promise. For now I will pass you on to one of our hosts. Melise, this is Iris. She will be glad to assist you and your companion.”

“Hello, Iris,” Melise responded. “Do I curtsey to you or the other way around?”

“Neither,” Iris laughed. “We don’t do that sort of thing here.”

“Really?” Melise asked thoughtfully. “How refreshing. I think that ought to be a clue, but for the life of me… Well, the mystery will be over soon. My companion is Genietre, a lady of high rank on Gallsee.”

“Pleased to meet you Genietre,” Iris smiled. “We have a car waiting nearby to take you to the wedding field. Marisea, would you accompany us?”

“Sure, Iris!” Marisea responded enthusiastically, hop-stepping closer. Genietre’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of Marisea and Iris thought she understood why. In many parts of the Galaxy, the Mer were looked down on because they were a gene-locked species. They could not evolve. The ability to gene-lock any species was lost technology and the Mer were the only sentient population who were gene-locked, but there were some who found that an abomination. Dannet and others from Dennsee had not displayed any prejudice against the Mer, but while Gallsee had been colonized by Dennseeans, there could well have been cultural changes between the worlds since then.

Then again
, Iris thought to herself,
the rest of us have been speaking so formally, it might have simply been Marisea’s informality this Genietre reacted to
.

While Iris and Marisea led Melise and her companion away, the rest of the bride’s party debarked from
National
. First of all, her parents stepped down the stairs and greeted Lord Rebbert formally. This time Rebbert introduced Arn, Prime Terius, Sartena, Park and the other notables who were there to greet them. Melise’s parents were followed by nearly two dozen aunts, uncles and cousins.

After all the introductions, Park asked Rebbert, “Where’s Dannet, by the way?”

“Waiting in his apartment, of course,” Rebbert replied. “He could hardly have been here. Had Melise’s blindfold slipped off it might have spoiled the surprise.”

“Had she recognized your voice it might have as well,” Park commented.

“It was a risk we had to take,” Rebbert shrugged, “but I suppose you had better get him if you expect to eat before the ceremony.”

“Me?” Park asked.

“Who else?” Rebbert countered. Park wanted to ask why that fell to him, but at that moment, the Lord of Gallsee caught Rebbert’s attention and he excused himself. Park shrugged and looked around for his car. On seeing it being driven off by Marisea with the other ladies in it he shrugged and stepped into the port terminal.

A few minutes later he had signed out one of the port’s vehicles, a Mer floater and headed up the hill to the old Van Winkle Base where Dannet’s embassy office was.

“You’re back, good!” Danet greeted him. “I’ve been waiting.”

“I can see that,” Park noted, seeing three crossword puzzle print-outs on Dannet’s desk. “Spiffy duds you’re wearing.” Dannet was dressed in a deep red uniform covered with medals and ribbons over his breast. With Dannet’s green skin and the bright green sash that matched, Park could not help but think of Christmas.

“Thanks,” Dannet grinned. “I have your suit in the closet.”

“My suit?” Park asked.

“You’re not going to go like that are you?” Dannet asked.

“Well, I did notice I was looking like someone’s poorer cousin at the port just now,” Park admitted, “but considering how we had to scramble to meet
National
I’m lucky I’m actually dressed. So you have a suit for me?”

“I guess technically it’s a Dennseean royal uniform,” Dannet told him. “As of today you’re a part of the royal family.”

“Why?” Park asked.

“Well as my companion…” Dannet suddenly broke off. “Oh!” There was a long embarrassed paused. “I’m sorry, I forgot to ask you. I kept meaning to, but we were all so busy getting ready and…”

“You want me to be your best man?” Park asked.

“We call that ‘companion,’” Dannet replied, “but yes. Would you?”

“I can hardly refuse, now can I?” Park laughed. “But, I would have said yes in any case, Dannet. Thank you. Are you sure that’s in my size?” he asked, spotting another bright red uniform hanging on a nearby door.”

“I got your measurements from Iris,” Dannet assured him.

Park changed rapidly and as he slipped on the long uniform coat asked, “What are these ribbons for?”

“Well there are a certain minimum number any member of the royal family gets just for breathing you might say,” Dannet responded. “This one here simply marks you as a member of my wedding party, this one is as a family member. There are a couple orders of knighthood you belong to now as a matter of course and so forth. Oh, and don’t forget the sash. Yours goes around your waist, not over the shoulder as mine does.”

“One of these days I’ll have to take a course in Dennseean etiquette, I suppose,” Park noted. “Are we ready now?”

“Of course,” Dannet nodded. “I hear you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Just a couple cups of coffee,” Park admitted. “I noticed your bride was too nervous to eat.”

“So am I,” Dannet confessed. “Maybe after the ceremony. Let’s go.”

It seemed odd to Park that a meal was being served before the ceremony, but after all that had gone on since his torc had chimed that morning, he was too hungry to complain. He only had time to chew half-way through his bagel before he was dragged up toward the clear area where the bride and groom would take their vows. The bagel, made from grain grown from seed in Van Winkle’s stores, was topped with a cream cheese that he knew had no chemical relationship to the schmear he had grown up with and a slice of cured fish that while it did not look like salmon had the flavor of lox. “Park, we’re ready to start,” Dannet told him.

“So much for breakfast,” Park sighed, hanging on to what was left of his bagel. “All right what do I do?”

“Just stand by me,” Dannet replied as they approached the waiting priest. “Your job, traditionally, is to guarantee I won’t be able to run away, but since I’m not planning on going anywhere all you need to do is stand there.”

“Not even to hand you the rings on cue?” Park asked.

“What rings?” Dannet asked and Park explained how in the ancient past it was customary for the couple to wear matching wedding rings.

“I had to make rings for Iris and me after the fact,” Park admitted, showing him the simple gold band on his left ring finger. “I probably would have done better to commission them from a Mer craftsman, but we had the gold in stores here and I didn’t care to wait.”

“That’s a nice custom,” Dannet admitted, “but...” Music started playing before he could go on and all turned to see Melise being led forward, still blindfolded, by Genietre, Iris and Marisea. The Mer, Park noted, had somehow found the time to change into a formal gown and both she and Iris wore iridescent sashes similar to Genietre’s. Their procession was slow, which gave Park a chance to finish his bagel while everyone was looking the other way. When Melise was finally beside Dannet, Genietre turned her so the couple were facing each other and finally removed the blindfold.

Melise blinked her eyes several times, adapting to the sudden brightness. Finally able to focus, she looked squarely at him and whispered unbelievingly, “Dannet?”

“Hi, Mel,” Dannet whispered back with equal uncertainty. Suddenly, crying with joy, Melise threw her arms around Dannet and they kissed while a surprised, but approving noise from the assembled crowd filled the area.

After a long-seeming moment, Park asked wryly, “Aren’t you two supposed to wait until after the ceremony for that?”

Dannet and Melise broke off the kiss, but still holding hands, they turned to face the priest only to discover that Okactack was now standing next to the cleric from Dennsee. The Priest looked at the Atackack mystic and Tack gestured to the Priest that he should go ahead.

The Dennseean marriage ritual turned out to be a long one, lasting nearly two hours, which explained why breakfast had been served before the ceremony. Finally, the priest concluded by pronouncing Dannet and Melise bonded to each other and Tack stepped forward and, in his click-clacking native language, blessed the union in the same way he had for Iris and Park some years earlier.

If Dennseean marriage customs seemed only vaguely familiar to Park, he was completely at home with the reception. He soon found himself with Iris and Marisea in a hastily cobbled together reception line as all the guests filed past to wish the new couple well. Finally, a second buffet meal was served and the guests were able to sit down and eat at the tables scattered around the wedding field.

“What was that the, uh what do the large insects call themselves?” Melise asked Iris at their table.

“They are the Atackack,” Iris explained. “He is a shaman, a priest among his kind and he was blessing you and Dannet. He did the same when he married Park and me.”

“He did?” Melise asked. “He just joined your priest for the ceremony like that?”

“Actually, Tack was the only priest of any sort at our wedding,” Iris smiled. “Park and I were exploring a couple thousand miles downstream of here which is where we met Tack along with Marisea and her father. Park and I spoke our wedding vows, such as they were, to each other and Tack said a blessing.”