Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

“I would prefer it if you accepted him willingly,” her father said firmly. “It took several years of horse-trading to arrange your marriage. You knew that you would be marrying one day and that day has finally come. As my daughter…”

Tiffany would have stamped her foot if she hadn’t grown out of such childish gestures.

“But I don’t love him,” Tiffany protested. “How am I supposed to leave everything and go with him to some barbaric posting on the other side of the universe?”

Her father didn’t seem impressed by her arguments.

“You grew up in a world where you lacked for nothing,” he said. “When there were people starving, you had plenty; when there were people dying because of poor medical care, you were healthy; when people lived without any sense of safety, you were safe. The only danger you’ve faced in your life was the danger you brought upon yourself when you had the insane idea of abandoning your security team and heading into an untamed city. And even then, you were rescued before anything bad could happen.”

“I know, father,” Tiffany said, “and I am grateful…”

“And there is a price to be paid for such luxury,” her father said, overriding her protests. “The family that gives you your position, your wealth and your access to things banned to the vast majority of the population comes first, always. You exist to serve the family, so the family can survive and prosper in its rightful place. Your happiness comes second, as does mine. I had to give up the girl I loved because her family was part of the Imperialist Faction and disgraced. Her descendants are the laughing stock of High Society. Do you understand me?”

Tiffany bowed her head. “Yes, father,” she said as submissively as she could. “I understand.”

She was already thinking about escape. She had access to a private shuttle and a space yacht. She didn’t have a stardrive, but she could navigate through the Gateway and escape, perhaps changing ships at the commercial yards at Terra Nova and heading to the Rim.

Her father wasn’t fooled.

“I know what you’re thinking. I thought the same when they brought Sally to me and told me she was going to be my first wife. I thought of nothing but escape, until my father told me that if I refused to marry her, I would be cut off completely from the family. Tell me something, Tiffany: could you survive without the family’s protection? Without the influence that saved your life, or allowed you to bend and break flight control rules at will, or ensured that there would be no lasting repercussions from your crazy stunts?”

Tiffany clenched her fists, but said nothing.

“And this marriage is very important, both to the family and to the Faction,” her father continued. “We cannot allow the Socialist Faction to gain unwarranted influence over Admiral Drake. And who is in the best position to influence a man? His wife, the charming girl he married and allows into his bed. That wife has to be one of us.”

Tiffany blushed bright red, knowing that her father would see. “Father, with all due respect, I am not a virgin,” she pointed out. “I am unsuited to a formal marriage.”

“Do you think I was a virgin when I married your mother?” Her father laughed.

“You were married before,” she pointed out, fighting down an insane urge to giggle—or scream. Her blush deepened. “You had four wives!”

“And my first wife wasn’t my first woman, and I wasn’t her first man,” her father said bluntly. “I assure you that virginity isn’t a factor in an arranged marriage. If it was, they’d have put that bitch Lola Pond forward as a possible candidate. She’s so frigid that any man who tried to have sex with her would freeze his cock and it would snap off.”

“Dad!”

Her father laughed.

There were times when Tiffany found his bitter attacks on the Socialists amusing—not least because, outside the Senate, there was little infighting among High Society—but this wasn’t funny. There were some things that no child wanted to discuss with her parents, and sex was very definitely one of them. She knew, intellectually, that her parents had to have had sex in order to produce her—and that her father must have had sex with at least four other women when he’d produced her half-siblings—but she didn’t want to think about it.

“Tiffany,” he said with a cold finality, “I understand how you’re feeling. You’ve been a child, but now it is time to take on adult responsibilities. The family needs your sacrifice and I’m afraid the wedding will happen, regardless of your feelings on the matter.”

She turned away and said nothing. This could not be happening!

“You will take your vows even if I have to march you to the altar in handcuffs and chains,” he said, “and hold a gun to your head to force you to speak. This is too important—both for you personally and for the family—to allow you to refuse. I am very sorry.”

Tiffany felt angry, but didn’t know what to do or what to say. Yes, she’d had lovers; she’d had plenty of lovers. And yet, she’d chosen them all, even the ones who had disappointed her. The thought of allowing someone she didn’t know and didn’t want to sleep with her was horrifying. She had known, intellectually, that it happened, yet she hadn’t realized that it could happen to her. She was a fifth child, after all, inherently less important than her older siblings. Her father shouldn’t have had to use her for decades yet.

She thought, bitterly, about some of the other marriages she’d seen in High Society. Some had worked out fine, with the couples growing to love one another and remaining close even after they’d separated. Long-life made it harder to spend one’s life with another until death did them part, although there were a few who did live together until the end of their lives. Others were very formal, with the partners having their children in artificial wombs and never going near one another otherwise; some went very bad. Even then, the partners were on Earth in High Society. They had a place to run.

But if she accompanied Admiral Drake back to his command on a starship, she would be completely alone.

Her father took a glass of wine from one of the servants and passed it to her, an odd compassion in his eyes. Tiffany took it gratefully and sipped it slowly, hoping that it would help clear her head. She thought, again, of escape, but if her father had anticipated the possibility, he would have guards set on her private ship and probably an entire security team escorting her. The guards on the estate reported to her father, she reminded herself; even her own servants couldn’t be trusted.

“It won’t be that bad,” her father said seriously. “The admiral’s psych profile shows him to be a good man…”

“I recall that my profile once claimed that I was a pathological liar,” Tiffany snapped. “You insisted that I visit one of those psych morons when I started writing fiction about living in an alternate world where magic, not science, ruled the universe. You thought that it was a psychological problem, rather than a young girl exercising her imagination.”

“You were at the age where making things up is common,” her father said. He stood up in one smooth motion and turned towards the door. “Tiffany, this marriage won’t be for very long. You won’t have to stay with him for more than a decade and you have a century of life ahead of you. And if you want to choose your next husband yourself, or remain unattached, I will honor your desire.”

“ Thank you,” Tiffany said sourly. “Now please, father, get out!”

Her father stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

Tiffany looked at the maid rearranging her bed and ordered her out of the room too. The brain-burned always sent shivers down her spine, if only because there were some people in High Society who would have happily brain-burned everyone else merely to ensure that their rule was never challenged. It was a nightmarish thought and, back in the days when it had first occurred to her, she’d had problems sleeping because she feared that she’d wake up a brain-burned slave, or worse.