Interplanetary voyages -- Fiction; Mate selection -- Fiction; Science fiction; Sex role -- Fiction; Stowaways -- Fiction
"Now, Miss Sparling, no hoopla. I'm saying let's get married, and you
know it. You figured out from what the boy told you that I was chewing
on you for a wife. You're healthy and strong, got good heredity, you
know how to operate sub-surface machinery, you've lived underwater, and
your disposition's no worse than most of the anura I've seen. Prolific
stock, too."
I was so excited I just had to yell: "Gee, Sis, say _yes_!"
* * * * *
My sister's voice was steaming with scorn. "And what makes you think
that I'd consider you a desirable husband?"
He spread his hands genially. "Figure if you wanted a poodle, you're
pretty enough to pick one up on Earth. Figure if you charge off to
Venus, you don't want a poodle, you want a man. I'm one. I own three
islands in the Galertan Archipelago that'll be good oozing mudgrape
land when they're cleared. Not to mention the rich berzeliot beds
offshore. I got no bad habits outside of having my own way. I'm also
passable good-looking for a slaptoe planter. Besides, if you marry
me you'll be the first mated on this ship--and that's a splash most
nesting females like to make."
There was a longish stretch of quiet. Sis stepped back and measured him
slowly with her eyes; there was a lot to look at. He waited patiently
while she covered the distance from his peculiar green boots to that
head of hair. I was so excited I was gulping instead of breathing.
Imagine having Butt for a brother-in-law and living on a wet-plantation
in Flatfolk country!
But then I remembered Sis's level head and I didn't have much hope any
more.
"You know," she began, "there's more to marriage than just--"
"So there is," he cut in. "Well, we can try each other for taste." And
he pulled her in, both of his great hands practically covering her
slim, straight back.
Neither of them said anything for a bit after he let go. Butt spoke up
first.
"Now, me," he said, "I'd vote yes."
Sis ran the tip of her tongue kind of delicately from side to side
of her mouth. Then she stepped back slowly and looked at him as if
she were figuring out how many feet high he was. She kept on moving
backward, tapping her chin, while Butt and I got more and more
impatient. When she touched the lifeboat door, she pushed it open and
jumped out.
* * * * *
Butt ran over and looked down the crossway. After a while, he shut the
door and came back beside me. "Well," he said, swinging to a bunk,
"that's sort of it."
"You're better off, Butt," I burst out. "You shouldn't have a woman
like Sis for a wife. She looks small and helpless, but don't forget
she was trained to run an underwater city!"
"Wasn't worrying about that," he grinned. "_I_ grew up in the fifteen
long years of the Blue Chicago Rising. Nope." He turned over on his
back and clicked his teeth at the ceiling. "Think we'd have nested out
nicely."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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