The bride wore white.
A white bikini.
The smallest bikini on Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf. And probably, thought Wayne Norton, the smallest in the history of the universe.
Kiru looked terrific, absolutely fantastic. He was so glad they were getting married, that she was to be his forever. She was dressed in the ideal outfit—for their wedding night.
But with all the other people around, human and alien, he wished she was wearing, well, more.
It wasn’t just the people, it was the cameras. The official opening of Cafe World was being transmitted to the whole galaxy. Autocams zoomed about everywhere, recording all the festivities and the premiere of every new dream palace on the island.
Norton had to bite his lip, forcing himself not to say a word about what Kiru was almost wearing. If he’d objected, his bride might simply have walked out on him.
That wouldn’t have been the worst of it.
The wedding was scheduled as one of the highlights of the opening ceremony. If Kiru had changed her mind, then Norton would have had to marry someone else. Pedro. And her husbands. Or a Caphafer. Or Major Diana Travis… alias Colonel Travis.
Diana had remained in her female guise and was dressed as a Red Indian chief. Or her version of what one looked like. She wore a feathered head-dress, which hung halfway down her back, but the feathers were metallic and kept changing colour, as if they had a kaleidoscope of lightbulbs inside. The fringes on her buckskin jacket and pants were of similar construction and illumination. At least her moccasins didn’t flash on and off with every step she took, even if they did have five-inch soles and ten-inch heels.
The bride was meant to be the centre of attention at her own wedding, but it seemed Diana was trying to steal the show. Norton was pleased, because it meant fewer eyes would be gazing at his wife-to-be.
He had to admit, however, that although he was convinced Kiru was the ultimate wonder of the galaxy, the non-humans on Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf were unlikely to spare her more than a passing glance.
Soon after their spaceship entered orbit, the Galactic Tax Authority representatives arrived to begin final negotiations with Diana and her associates. Norton wished he’d asked for his missing finger to be brought from Hideaway, so he could be reunited with it.
Discussions must have been successful, because later the same vessel disgorged hundreds of guests to visit the countless different attractions on what its owners hoped would become the new vacation capital of the universe.
In the past fifty hours, the island seemed to have doubled in size, with four times as many soaring red buildings. During that time, Norton was busy arranging his own wedding. The hardest part was coming up with a form of words Kiru would agree to. “Obey” had to go, as did “honour,” and she wasn’t even very enthusiastic about “love.”
Then Diana told him, “Keep it very short. After the banquet, our new partners will be eager to sample what they’ve bought for their money.”
“I can’t imagine them being eager about anything,” said Norton. “You made a deal?”
“We came to a mutually advantageous conclusion,” said Diana.
They were in the plaza where the first restaurant had stood. By now, there was another on each corner. In the centre of the square was a ring of tables, and Caphafers in blue bikinis were covering them with red cloths.
Negotiations had taken place inside the building nearest the sea. Although it was of exactly the same shade of red, this construction was smaller than most of the others. It was a steep pyramid, and it was also the only building with any windows. These were crescent-shaped, dropping down each angled side in a single row from the apex.
The entrance was arched, and outside were the seven delegates from the Galactic Tax Authority. They stood in a neat line. Instead of gazing up at the impressive sights of Cafe World, their heads were bowed.
“Miserable bunch,” said Norton. “Do we have to invite them to the wedding?”
“It’s more a case of them inviting you to their banquet,” said Diana. “We eat first, then come all the speeches, and—”
“Yeah, I’ve written out my speech.”
Diana glanced at him. “Your speech?”
“Yeah.” Norton nodded. “The groom always makes a speech, I told you that.”
“You also said the bride’s father makes a speech. I liked Kiru’s idea of repeating the last thing her father ever said to her. What was it exactly? Yes, I remember. It was, Ahhhhhhhhhhhh … /” Diana stared up, all around, then over at the alien tax collectors. “The speeches will be about the future of Cafe World. We have the banquet, the speeches, then the wedding. A fast wedding.”
Instead of being a highlight of the festivities, the marriage had been rescheduled as after-dinner entertainment. Norton said nothing. There was no point. If he protested, it might be cancelled. All that mattered was that he and Kiru would be wed, their lives entwined for as long as they lived.
“Where’s your knife and tomahawk?” he said, studying Diana’s outfit. She wasn’t dressed up for the wedding, he realised, but for her high-powered business conference.
“There are no armaments on the whole island,” said Diana. “Carrying weapons to peace talks sends the wrong signals.”
Norton thought of making some remark about smoke signals, but said instead, “What about the warpaint?”
Diana opened her violin case, checking her face in the mirror. Blue and white and red lines were daubed across her cheeks and forehead.
“They don’t know it’s warpaint,” she said. “Not that it is. We’re partners now, allies.”
“Colleagues?” said Norton. “Friends?”
“Who could be friends with a taxperson?” said Diana, watching them. “I’ve spent hours with them, and I don’t even know their names.”
The aliens were all small and slender, almost entirely clad in black. They wore black gloves over their hands, each of which had two thumbs and five fingers. Only their heads were uncovered, although their eyes were protected by black goggles.
“Palefaces,” said Norton.
Diana nodded. “That’s a good name for them. They’re all identical, all anonymous, all apparently of equal rank. The location of their native planet is a secret, probably because they’re scared of reprisals. From all the evidence—the way they cover their eyes, their translucent skin—their race is nocturnal, maybe from a planet where it’s always dark.”
“So you’ve brought them to a world where it’s always light, and you’re making them sit outside for a banquet?”
“Yes,” said Diana. “Ah, here’s your bride. Right on time.”
Barefoot, long red hair cascading down to her white bikini top, Kiru walked across from the other side of the plaza. Norton couldn’t keep his eyes off her, and he wasn’t the only one. An autocam swooped down to encircle her. Kiru noticed Norton watching, and she slipped one of the straps off her shoulder, pouted and blew a kiss to the camera.
When she reached Norton, he leaned forward to kiss her. She sprang aside, laughing.
“Wait till we’re married,” she said.
“You look fantastic,” he said.
“I know.”
He’d never seen her hair like this, so glossy, and in long ringlets. Her lips were redder than ever before, her eyelashes darker. She’d also painted her fingernails. White. Her toenails were the same. To match her bikini, he realised.
In her other role as Colonel Travis, Diana had worn white nail varnish. Kiru must have borrowed it. For the first time since Norton had known her, she had access to makeup.
“And me?” said Norton, gesturing to his own clothes.
He was finally wearing the suit he’d designed on Hideaway, and he wished Princess Janesmith could have been the seamstress. His outfit had been fabricated on Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf, and although it looked right, almost, it simply didn’t feel right. He guessed the suit was made from fish skins. Whatever the case, it was the least worst thing he’d worn since his resurrection.
Kiru looked at him, shook her head, sighed, shrugged, then scanned the plaza. “Where is everyone?”
“Enjoying themselves,” said Diana. “Neuroscapes, sex salons, mindlay. All for free.”
“And your new partners?” said Norton.
“They’re enjoying themselves most of all. Those guys really know how to party.”
The seven tax delegates were still standing in line. They hadn’t moved, not a muscle.
Diana continued, “We don’t expect our invited guests to give up all the other pleasures on the planet for the banquet, but each place will be filled by members of our corporation.”
“Pirates,” said Kiru.
“Architects, builders, consultants, every letter of the alphabet,” said Diana.
“Arsonists, burglars, conmen,” said Kiru.
Before she could continue, Norton said, “We don’t get married until the very end.”
“Might as well go for a swim while I’m waiting,” Kiru said, and she took a few steps toward the sea.
She’d spent several of the past fifty hours in the sea and had tried to entice Norton into the water, telling him that Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf was the ideal place to learn to swim. He hadn’t been persuaded.
“If you don’t take your seat,” said Diana, “someone else will.”
“Stay,” said Norton, who was very worried about who that someone else might be.
Kiru turned back.
Diana raised her right arm and snapped her fingers. Within a few seconds of her signal, a group of people appeared from around one corner, another from the opposite direction. Human and various humanoid aliens, they took their places around the tables. Diana walked across to collect her new partners, and a Caphafer approached Kiru and Norton.
“Have I the privilege, madam and sir, of addressing the bride and groom?” said the native.
“Er… yeah,” said Norton.
“Please follow me to your table.”
The red amphibian led Kiru and Norton to their seats. They shared a table with eight others: Diana and the seven alien tax officials.
It was the longest meal Norton had ever sat through in his long life. Literally, figuratively and gastronomically.
However brief the meal, it would have seemed to last ages because he was so anxious about the wedding ceremony.
And it did take ages, because there were so many different courses.
Norton hardly ate a thing; he was far too nervous. Even so, he ate more than the enigmatic aliens. That wasn’t difficult. They ate nothing, they drank nothing, they said nothing.
Diana tried to get them to speak. To pass the time, Kiru also did her best to entice out a single word, just a slate-induced “yes” or “no,” or some kind of gesture. All they did was stare down at the table, eyes hidden behind the black goggles which almost appeared to be grafted onto their pale faces. Norton had other things on his mind, and he didn’t bother trying to start a conversation.
Every now and then, he sipped at his salty wine, careful not to empty the glass. He didn’t want to get drunk, didn’t want to fluff the few words he was being allowed at his wedding.
There were speeches, but he paid little attention. Diana gave the opening address, welcoming the organisation’s new partners. One of the tax collectors at the table stood up, as if about to reply. Instead, the alien simply bowed in acknowledgment. Someone else gave a speech, then someone else, and so on. Then Diana was on her feet again, giving another speech about a wonderful new marketing enterprise, a special tourist attraction on Cafe World which was bound to be a fabulous success. Norton realised she was referring to weddings.
“One of the ancient marriage traditions of my native planet,” Diana was saying, “is that a magnificent confection is baked for the wedding feast, a piece of which is given to every guest. To mark the first wedding to be celebrated here, our master chef has recreated an original Terran recipe. The owners and management of Cafe World are pleased to present this as their wedding gift to Mr. and Mrs. Norton.”
“Mrs. Norton?” said Kiru. “Who? Is that me?”
Diana began to applaud. Taking this as their cue, most of the others at the banquet did the same. Despite their extra thumbs, the palefaces didn’t join in the clapping.
Norton watched as two Caphafers wheeled a large trolley toward their table. Whatever was on it was covered by a red cloth. They slid the contents of the trolley onto the table, then withdrew. Diana whisked the cloth away, revealing an enormous wedding cake.
Covered in white icing, consisting of several tiers, each laid directly on top of each other, the whole thing was at least five feet high, with the base about two feet in diameter. As the elaborate cake became taller, the tiers became smaller, and on the very top stood two small figurines, one in a white bikini, one in a gangster suit.
“Wow,” said Norton.
“My own personal gift, Wayne,” Diana said, quietly.
“Thanks,” he said.
“No,” said Diana. “Thank you.”
“Everything he’s done for you,” said Kiru, “and all he gets is one lousy cake!”
Norton kept looking at the cake. It was amazing. He could hardly believe it.
“Shhh,” said Norton. “Wow. Looks too good to eat.”
“Too good?” said Kiru. “Seaweed and fish.”
“Can I please have your attention for another minute?” said Diana. “I’m proud to say that you’re all about to witness our first Cafe World wedding. Before long, this planet will become the galactic marriage centre, the chosen destination of every sophisticated couple or triple who wishes to make a legal nuptial agreement. Kiru and Wayne, stand up.”
Norton rose to his feet. Kiru drained her glass and did the same. Norton removed his hat.
“Kiru,” said Diana, “do you take this man to be your legal husband?”
“Lawful wedded,” whispered Norton. “Lawful wedded husband.”
“Yes,” said Kiru.
“No,” said Norton. “You’ve got to say, ‘I do.’ ”
“Wayne,” said Diana, “do you take this woman to be your legal wife?”
“Lawful,” Norton said again. “Wedded,” he repeated. Then he gave up. “Yeah, okay. I mean ‘I do.’ Yeah, I do.”
“As the judicial authority on Cafe World,” said Diana, “I affirm you—”
“No!” said Norton. “Not yet, not yet.” He’d just remembered one of the key lines: With this ring I thee wed.
He also remembered he didn’t have a ring. Carrying the ring was the best man’s job. He also didn’t have a best man.
“What’s the matter now?” said Diana.
Norton gazed around anxiously, up, then down, not knowing what he was looking for. The ground was surfaced with tiles, making it smooth and regular, but already sand and loose pebbles had been kicked up from the beach. Something caught his eye. He went over, picked it up, examined it.
“Okay,” he said, “go ahead…”
Diana repeated, “As the judicial authority on Cafe World…”
Norton reached out for Kiru’s left hand and slipped what he’d found onto her third finger. It slid across her fingernail, past the first knuckle. With a slight push, it went over the second knuckle. A perfect fit.
“… I affirm you are now wife and husband,” Diana concluded.
Kiru was staring down at her finger, at her wedding ring. A broken seashell, forged by the elements into a polished circle, it glinted in the light, ruby and amber, like a gemstone.
“It’s…” Kiru kept gazing at the shell, lost for words.
“We’ll get a real ring later,” said Norton, “a gold one.”
“… the most wonderful thing anyone’s ever given me,” said Kiru. She looked at Norton, and she smiled. “Not that anyone’s ever given me anything.”
“You can share the wedding cake,” said Norton.
A soft voice said, “Under the circumstances, we are also prepared to make an endowment to these two humans.”
Norton looked around. One of the seven aliens was standing up and speaking.
“This announcement is in no way to be regarded as establishing a precedent,” the tax delegate continued, “but as of the start of the next financial year, the tax liability of these two humans is to be reduced to the minimum applicable category on whatever world the specified humans are domiciled for assessment purposes. This applies exclusively to personal taxation of every description, but not corporate taxation. This allowance will be terminated immediately in the event of divorce or separation of the specified humans or upon the death of the first of them, whichever is the sooner.”
“That’s the most astonishing thing I’ve heard in my life,” said Diana. “In either life. I think I’ll get married.”
A paleface with goggled eyes turned toward her. “To repeat my earlier statement, this announcement is in no way to be regarded as establishing a precedent,” said the alien.
“Er… thanks,” said Norton.
“Yes,” said Kiru.
The tax assessor bowed, then sat down.
Norton wasn’t aware he had to pay tax. How could he, if he had no job, no salary? He was reasonably sure Kiru had no regular income. Under the circumstances, reduction of tax liability didn’t seem much of a wedding present. Still, the thought was there.
“Can I kiss the bride?” asked Norton.
“Why not?” said Kiru.
The bride and the groom kissed and kissed and kissed.
Then they headed for the top of the tallest skytel on the island, where they spent the first few hundred hours of their marriage in the new honeymoon suite.
Because Kiru and Norton never did divorce or separate, their privileged revenue status enabled them to save enough for a rejuve (tax free) each. Although this extended their lives by approximately fifty percent, finally they died.
In cosmic terms, even considering Norton’s extended life-span, their existence was less than a nanosecond; but to them, the only relevant era was that brief moment of galactic history when they were alive.
During that time, Kiru and Wayne Norton lived happily together.
Which, for them, was forever.