A talk at Lunch (1)

After yet another "motivational" session with Nathers, whose office was a tangle of cables as technicians looked for the problem with his office link, Gerald was ready for a nice late lunch. He found a couple of local fruits that smelled like a combination of asparagus and garlic and tasted even worse.

"Good afternoon siblings," he greeted as he sat down at the table with a pair of his classmates. A furry little teddy bear-looking fellow named Tiboe and a blue-shelled crab with a single eye poking out from his opened shell named S'Meskle. Both of them looked up at his ranking window and walked away without a word.

"Good luck on the weapons tests tomorrow," he called back. While he ate, he found himself watching the daily drama unfold in the center of the room, where Cha'Rolette and her minions entertained the line of young men that came to court her. There were about five regulars that tried every day, and about a dozen more that rotated in and out whenever they got up the nerve to try. Cha'Rolette basked in the adoration like a plant in sunlight.

A tall and wiry grey-skinned boy named Cleylselle serenaded her with a beautiful Fievian opera. Next up was Ungliss, a floating cloud of orange and green energy that challenged her hand in a game of Trategim. They both linked into the machine and five thousand moves later she had bested him. It only took thirty seconds of real time.

Finally, Tomar walked up, looking even more confident than usual.

And what have you brought for me today? she asked, tugging on a green ringlet. Gerald noticed that while she clearly had the ability to project her voice to only certain people, she almost universally preferred to broadcast it to everyone within range.

"Today I have brought you only myself," he said regally with a half-bow. "As heir to the Keendland conglomerate, I bring with me control of a company more wealthy than any ten planets combined. We control a full forty percent of all stardrive production in the Alliance. We employ a security force greater in strength and equipment than the Galactic army itself, and we have recently managed to gain the complete sovereignty for our head world of Ceventro. You were born a Duchess. Marry me and I will make you a Queen."

Cha'Rolette grinned smugly. Keendland is indeed a worthy opponent. You are easily the only real competition left to us in the western spiral. The union of our two families would be a powerhouse the likes of which has never been seen in the galaxy. I wonder, however, if such a union would benefit you far more than me?

"What do you mean?"

Keendland specializes in stardrive production, but not by choice. Your bio-foods division folded, the Migjtengale debacle stripped you of your hypergate monopoly in the core-worlds. Stardrives are all you have left at this point. Meanwhile Ssykes Industries has diversified. We dominate the bio-meds market, we have a stranglehold on Alliance funding for heavy weapons manufacture, and we've secured enough innotium mining rights to last us through the next millennium. As heiress to the Ssykes family, I need to choose a husband that will add value to the future of my company, not just his.

Tomar turned away, looking even more dejected than usual. It was then that Cha'Rolette did something she never had before. She placed her delicate hand on his shoulder and stopped him. But it was very sweet, she smiled. I may yet change my mind.

A glimmer of hope returned to his eyes and he nodded firmly. Walking off, he tucked his large ears behind his shoulders and sat down without looking to see who else was at the table with him.

"She turned you down again, didn't she?"

Tomar jumped a little. "Oh, it's you."

"You know, Trajey from class 2-B fancies you something fierce. She hasn't taken her eyes off you for days."

"I can see that," Tomar said, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder, knowing that Trajey's doting eyes would be staring back at him.

"I know it's none of my business, but why not try courting a girl who actually likes you?"

Tomar scratched his neck. "No, see you don't understand anything. The Duchess she's... well, she's amazing. Usually, a girl will be smart or wealthy, or beautiful, but rarely will she be two. Cha'Rolette is that singular gem who possesses all three."

Gerald gulped down a bite of garlic-asparagus. "What about kindness?"

Tomar flapped his ears in irritation. "You go out of your way to be kind to everyone, how well has that worked out for you?"

"Touché."

Tomar tapped his finger. "Look, my birthright didn't guarantee my seat here. It doesn't work that way. I worked my lobes off for years to get here. I bested hundreds of thousands of other applicants to become the representative of Majara to this school. I am the best of my people, and I earned that title, so I won't apologize for boasting of it."

"Why would you?"

"Exactly. I've been studying and fighting since I was a podling. After coming this far, you think I'm going to suddenly give up and capitulate? Do you think my family sent me here to come back with anything less than the best woman to marry? No. Not even close. There's no way I'm going to settle for second best."

Tomar sat back and traced his finger back and forth along the table. "She is the prize, I just have to figure out how to win her."

Gerald took a bite that was particularly foul and had to catch his breath. "So, do you always do what you are told?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't get me wrong. Your accomplishments are impressive. Amazing even. So far in your life, you have cleared every obstacle and met every goal. I just wonder if you are truly happy fulfilling goals that are not your own."

Tomar snickered. "You gonna preach to me now, little monk?"

"A little, yes. I hope you don't mind. But, consider this, have you ever stopped to ask yourself why so many people like yourself work sixty hours a week when they could easily survive on two credits a day?"

"Maybe because they don't define 'survive' so broadly."

"No, I'm being serious. In an affluent world like this, you can have a safe place to live, good nutritious food, clean air and water, and access to a million lifetimes worth of entertainment and literature through a free connection to Central, and it would cost you less than two credits a day. So, I ask again, why do people work themselves to death when all their needs can be met so effortlessly?"

"Because you are leaving out some pretty groggin' important needs. If a man only earned fourteen credits a week he'd be considered a loser."

"Exactly. Because if he did, the women he is after wouldn't take any interest in him. Conversely, why do women spend a fortune on clothes when they could easily get perfectly good clothes cheaply from a secondhand store?"