Cultural Differences

“You do know we’re on a spaceship?” he pleaded, as she pulled him along down the corridor.

“What’s your point, other than the shiny one on top of your head?” she replied.

“Well, we’ve broken out of the brig, but there’s no place to go,” he contested. “And I thought you liked my point?”

“We’re not actually escaping. Just … trust me,” she said. “And you know I absolutely adore your point. Now come on.”

The two had never met before being arrested for indecent exposure, a fairly common if idiotic infraction on a Gorgan transport ship with dozens of different lifeforms aboard. Wahku had been ‘brazenly flaunting the bare crown of his head during physical exertions’, according to the official Writ of Malfeasance on file against him. In reality, he had left the pointed peak of his head uncovered while exercising on the Recreation Deck, which was understandable, considering he breathed through the top of it. But Gorgan law stipulated modest head coverings in all such circumstances, no cultural or species exceptions. Tiane, for her part, had simply been working out nearby, but she had felt it necessary to jump in to defend her fellow passenger and his right to free expression. And his need to breathe.

Despite the pair’s obvious ethnic and physical contrasts, she being a bipedal humanoid and he definitely not, a whirlwind romance had ensued over the last 43 days they had spent together in the relative comfort of the Gorgan brig.

Gorgans were an especially strange lot, in a galaxy full of unusual and differing civilizations. Their appearance was nothing particularly noteworthy, except for its uniformity. Rather large and muscular, Gorgans reliably grew by the age of three to a height of 7 feet 5 inches, plus or minus an inch, male and female alike. Along with their homogeneously grey toned and hairless skin, individuals of the species lacked any distinguishing characteristics. Even among their own kind, Gorgan’s had a difficult time visually discerning the identity of one another.

As one of the more intelligent life forms in the galaxy, their advanced technical prowess put the Gorgans in contact with nearly all other planets within 50,000 lightyears of their home world. But it wasn’t superior technology that caused friction with other species. Gorgans as a society relished creating complex and minutely prescriptive rules and laws, striving for their natural inclination toward conformity and civility. This tendency was not especially unique in the galaxy, but Gorgans also possessed a strange quirk that caused them to feel tremendously guilty when exacting any type of punishment for the inevitable myriad of violations. This clash of strict regulations followed up with overly conscientious enforcement often gave rise to peculiar circumstances. On the transport ship, this was nowhere more obvious than the fact that the brig was one of the more lavishly furnished accommodations aboard, considerably nicer than the 3rd class cabins that both Tiane and Wahku had originally booked for this six-month interstellar crossing.

“Then where are we going?” Wahku panted, struggling to keep up with Tiane and her two well-toned legs. His long, squid-like tentacles were agile and dexterous, another aspect Tiane found enticing about him, but not ideal for running.

“It’s a surprise.”

It was ship-night, with no alarms raised from their escape so far as they approached the Observation Deck, but they still had to be cautious. They were after all ‘out after curfew’, another ridiculous Gorgan regulation, the prescribed punishment being a free ship-taxi service back to the offender’s cabin, followed by a nightcap of their choice.

Though a drink sounded good about now, Tiane was not ready to go back to the brig just yet, having just escaped.

The Gorgan transport was huge, but meticulously laid out in grids, with directional information at each corridor intersection.

At the last turn before the Observation entrance, as bad luck would have it, a guard stepped out of the adjacent washroom.

Startled to see someone else in the passageway, the guard panicked.

“Hey you,” he squeaked. Acting more afraid of them than they were of him, the guard pulled his net launcher, fumbled with the sidearm, and accidentally fired.

A fine woven, immensely strong netting of Syngarian nanofiber shot from the launcher and enveloped the couple, cinching tight to prevent any chance of escape.

“Halt, don’t move,” the guard stammered.

“You’re supposed to say that and give us a chance to stop before you net us,” Tiane complained loudly from the floor, where she now lay in a tangled jumble atop Wahku.

“Heh, who’s the guard here,” said the guard, trying to sound intimidating but failing miserably, all the while nervously adjusting and tugging at his uniform, which was grossly too big. Both the pantlegs and sleeves were rolled up many times just so he could function. A large safety pin tightened his hat down to almost fit, but it still rode down and concealed most of his face. “But, yeah, sorry. I’m kinda new at this.”

“Really? Couldn’t tell.”

“Yeah, it’s my first night solo on the job.”

“And they made you evening hall monitor? Your mother must be very proud.”

“Hey, it’s a job. Haven’t you seen the latest galactic job statistics? It’s a tough interstellar economy right now, and I’m just glad to have something to do that pays.”

“You’re an Ohhing, aren’t you?” asked Wahku.

At the simple mention of his homeworld, the guard started blushing.

“If I just admit it upfront, can we skip all the usual derogatory comments about my heritage?”

His native planet was obvious, once you saw past the baggy uniform. Ohhings were known throughout the galaxy, deservedly or not, as an exotic and lascivious people, and they looked the part, or they did for humanoids that were into that. Unblemished skin of a multitude of tones and colors, heart shaped faces and curvaceous bodies, capped off with their most distinctive feature, their plump, pouty lips, perpetually puckered as if preparing for a kiss.

“What’s his name?” whispered Tiane out of the corner of her mouth.

Wahku telescoped his eyes so he could read the guard’s nametag from across the passage, then whispered back his name.

“Ah, Romeoesce is it? You come from a … romantic people, so maybe you can sympathize with us. We’re just an enamored if somewhat mismatched alien couple out for an evening stroll. Nothing nefarious going on here.”

“Not yet anyway,” added Wahku gleefully. “Got any erotic secrets you might want to share with us? You know, you being an Ohhing and all…”

“You’re not helping,” Tiane warned, before turning her attention back to the guard. ”So what do you say? Think you could find it in your heart to just … I don’t know… maybe leave us be? We promise to behave.”

“Ah, hell, I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do with you now anyway. The rulebook the Gorgans gave me when I took this job is over 20,000 standard pages long. I made it to page twelve so far. I think I can reverse this somehow,” he said, playing with the sidearm again. The net unexpectantly retracted back into the launcher with a loud Wumpf.

“Just please be gone when I get back. And if anyone asks, I never saw you,” he said, moving quickly around the bend and out of site.

The Observation Deck hatch slid open and the pair walked in.

“Well, that was strange,” said Tiane.

“Yeah, I’ve never met an Ohhing before,” replied Wahku. “That wasn’t my surprise, was it?”

“Have faith, my precious pinhead,” Tiane declared, striding across the room and hitting the button that retracted the blastwalls. “Behold!”

The Quasar Nebula filled the viewport, luminous in all its spectral and celestial wonder.

“Wow, that’s cool, but…”

Down on one knee, Tiane held out an elaborately adorned silver headring.

“On Aneries, legend says that it is the greatest of luck to propose while bathed in the light of a star-forming nebula.”

“Really. On my world, the bride-to-be usually just gets tattooed for luck. Usually somewhere risqué.”

“Yeah right, Like any artist could put a tattoo on that blue leather you call skin. Now quit ruining the mood. Just say yes, then stop talking for once,” she implored, fitting his headring in place.

“You know, my people also believe in polygamous marriages. Just saying.”

“We just got engaged, and you’re already straining the relationship.”

Strolling out of Observation, hand in appendage, Tiane said, “Heh, you know Bibby, the smuggler back in the brig? He’s an ordained Fichian minister. He could marry us before we even disembark.”

“Don’t Fichian ceremonies usually include humanoid sacrifices?”

“Cultural differences. We’ll skip that part.”

They looked up and down the passageway, trying to remember which way they had come. The location of the brig, not being a usual pedestrian destination, wasn’t included in the intersection directional displays.

“So, what now?” Wahku asked.

“Where’d that Ohhing guard get to? We might as well get him to get us a ride back to the brig. I’m sure not going back to 3rd class, ” Tiane said.

“Heh, if we’re just gonna get rearrested, how about we show the Gorgans what real indecent exposure is like?”