Rosemary

 

 

The world ended on a Tuesday. You’d never suspect Tuesday because no one trusted Monday, by the time Tuesday rolled around, people’s guards were down. Not that the day was called Tuesday on Sangrin. Here it was Marth. That didn’t even sound like a real word, let alone a day of the week. At least they had a seven-day week on Sangrin.

She deleted the latest message from Vince. Somehow, he had gotten her new contact information after she ditched her old Earth phone for a Sangrin-based number. In theory, the communication technology was the same on both planets. Modern phone networks were based on Mahdfel tech, after all. However, using an Earth device off-planet got expensive. Fast.

The new number brought her a few months of peace, and then the messages started. Vince had a lawyer now. For once, the blockhead actually listened to her, in a bizarre twist of fate. The messages from the lawyer grew more terse and demanding. She needed to reach a settlement or they would sue for custody.

Vince infuriated her. They had a settlement with the papers drawn up and he bailed.

He was the worst. Just the absolutely worst and the number one reason why she couldn’t trust her judgment when it came to men. Muscular physiques turned her head but every relationship based on raw physical attraction fizzled in the end.

Or exploded in a fiery mess, like Vince.

She called her old lawyer on Earth, who advised her to find an attorney based on Sangrin and file for custody there. The interplanetary red tape could keep the custody dispute tied up for years.  She’d never be able to pour the same amount of credits into legal fees that Vince’s family could, but stalling as long as possible was something.

Rosemary didn't know where to start. When she searched the network, all the contact info was in Sangrin. She couldn't read any of the adverts or get contact pages well enough to discern what type of lawyer to contact. Cold-calling a number remained an option, but her in-ear translator did not work well over the phone or video chat. It created a distorted echo that left her feeling dizzy. An implanted translator bypassed those problems, but the price was out of her budget.

Beyond the language issue was the problem of credit. Lawyers cost money, or at least they did on Earth. She expected the profession to be just as pricey on Sangrin. Some truths were universal.

She hesitated to ask Tani, who had already done so much, for assistance. Asking Hazel for help would only mean she’d have to confess her blunder with the million credits.

Rosemary could do this. She just needed to cold call law offices and either deal with the cheap translator, learn enough of an entirely new language to get by or scrape up the credits for a translator chip implant.

The easiest solution was to stall for time and ignore the calls and the messages. Vince could bluster and shout all he wanted, but he had no legal reach on Sangrin. As long as she stayed off-planet, the situation was under control. Sort of.

That was a plan, right? A siege? Wait out the enemy, safe in her fortress.

Okay, so it kept her up at night. It sucked. Life on Sangrin was good for her and Michael. She didn’t want to mess up the good thing they had going, and that included getting involved with Mene. Sure, she couldn’t ignore her attraction to the man. He was gorgeous. She wasn’t blind. He was also kind and patient. They butted heads and he never lost his temper, which was more than she could say. How could she not be drawn to him?

Life was good on Sangrin. With her relationship track record, getting involved with her boss’ son would put that good life in jeopardy.    

All this, of course, happened before the Ministry arrived.

The door chimed as another patron entered the Tasting Room. Rosemary wiped down the counter and gave a friendly smile, careful not to show teeth. A toothy smile could be taken as a sign of aggression by Sangrins. "Beautiful day today," she said. "How can I help you?"

The male wore a serious expression. He approached the counter but did not look at the tasting menu. "Rosemary Rovelli?"

Dread curled tight in her stomach. "Who's asking?"

"Ministry of Mahdfel Affairs." He flashed a badge and sent the identity signature to her phone. She recognized the government seal, a yellow blossom heavily stylized to resemble the sun. "I need to verify that you're a registered resident."

"My, um, employer handled all that. She's in the office. Let me go get her."

Rosemary practically ran up the stairs to the office. Tani sat at her desk and fumbled with the tablet in hand as Rosemary banged the door open. "What is it?"

"Ministry. Registration. They. Want. Papers," she managed to say between gasps, sides burning. Running up the stairs was no joke.

"Oh, is that all? I have the application for your work permit here." Tani opened a drawer and fumbled around before pulling out a sheet of paper.

Neat and tidy handwriting filled out the page. It was even stamped at the bottom.

Rosemary frowned. “If you submitted it, then why are they here?”

“It must be a processing error. Those happen all the time.”

Rosemary sank into a chair. Her heart raced, and she felt cold, a shivery cold all over. This wasn't good. "I'm freaking out, Tani. They're going to send me back to Earth." Back to Vince and his team of lawyers. His family could afford the best and, in her panic, that one lawyer morphed into an entire team of legal jackals, ready to tear her apart and take Michael away.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," the older woman said in a soothing tone, the kind reserved for children frightened of the dark or monster under the bed. Well, the monster wasn't under the bed. It was downstairs in the Tasting Room. "I'll just invite our visitor on up, and we can talk about this in a reasonable manner." More soothing, saccharine tones. She even patted Rosemary on the head as she went by.

Insufferable. Rosemary might have complained except she'd seen Tani take the exact same demeaning tone with her gigantic, grown warrior son.

She shook her hair out and refastened the bun in a nervous fit.

"It's all very simple," the stranger said as he entered the room. "I'm not here about her work permit."

"We'll get it filled out by the end of the day, so you don't have to worry about any fines," Tani said.

"So Ms. Rovelli is a resident of Sangrin?" He directed the question to her. Rosemary nodded. "As a resident, you must sign up for the Mahdfel Bride Registry."

His words made no sense.

"No, I don't."

"According to the terms of the treaty, you do." He set a case down on the desk and clicked it open.

"I'm not eligible. I have a son."

He took out a tablet and thumbed through various screens. "Is that child an infant?"

"No. He's seven."

"Then you are required to register and submit to testing."

"But I'm not eligible. I don't have to."

He held up the table and snapped her picture. "You're from Earth?"

"Yes. What does that have to do with—"

"The terms of the Mahdfel-Earth Treaty differ from those of the Sangrin."

"But I'm Earthian. Terran. Human. Whatever." She stumbled over her words, distraught.

"According to the terms of the treaty, all eligible females must register." He read directly from the tablet. "And you are eligible."

"All eligible Sangrin females must register." Rosemary took the tablet to read for herself. Fortunately it had been translated to English. There it was, in black and white. All eligible females. No mention of the planet.

Sugar snap peas.

"There's been some sort of misunderstanding," she said.

"No misunderstanding." He took out a plastic bracelet and fixed it to her wrist. "Your presence was reported. You have no work permit or residence papers. You must register tomorrow at the Ministry."

"If I register, I'll be tested?" Tested and then matched to a Mahdfel, married and whisked away to some random place in the galaxy. The last few months had exposed her to some Mahdfel. They weren't the brutish, barbaric monsters she feared, but she'd be matched to a stranger.

A total stranger.

And she'd have to bring Michael along with her, to live with an unknown man. Somewhere. Maybe a ship like Hazel or a space station or, possibly, even the middle of a war zone.

No. She refused to bring Michael to a war zone. Throwing axes and hunting giant crabs was safer than that. She'd do anything to avoid that. She'd—

She didn't know what she'd do.

“If I refuse?”

The man shut the case with a snap. “Imprisonment until you consent.”

“That’s hardly consent,” she said. Irritation scratched at the back of her head like a headache.

“Or you will be deported back to Earth. The Ministry has no preference, but if you wish to remain on Sangrin, you will register, and you will be tested.”

"There has to be something I can do. I can appeal," she said.

"No appeal. Report to the location on the bracelet at the assigned time."

She glanced at the date and time. Tomorrow, first thing in the morning. Wonderful.

Fudging bureaucrat. He'd never have to be tested and torn away from his world. He'd never have to worry about bringing his son to an unknown environment and hope that his new spouse was kind, not cruel, and a good person and hope that they would love Michael as if he were their own.

For as much as Mene drove her crazy, he accepted Michael without reservation. He'd be a good dad when the time came.

Mental images of him over her, his thick arms planted on either side of her head, and the weight of his hard body pressing against her flooded her mind. He would be a good father. He'd probably even be a good husband. If she had to marry a Mahdfel, she'd want it to be to a man like Mene.

Or she could just marry Mene.

Tani gave her an awkward, one-armed embrace. "You'll be fine. You'll marry one of my sons. Both will agree. Choose one."

“Mene,” she said instantly. She chose Mene. “But not like this.” Not when he would be forced into it. Clearly, he was attracted to her, but there was a huge gap between stealing a kiss or two and marriage.

"Whatever you decide," the bureaucrat said, "report to the Ministry's testing facility tomorrow."