Culture Shock

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I’m Sue,” the girl said. “Welcome to Arthur’s Seat.”

  “James,” James managed.

  His throat was suddenly dry. He’d never imagined a girl like her, someone so shamelessly sexual. His sisters wore long dresses and hid themselves from unrelated men, as women should do. He knew he should turn and walk away before the slut captivated him - he’d heard all sorts of horror stories about shameless Outsider girls, luring decent Forsakers away from the commune - but his legs refused to budge. His body was intent on making its interest known.

  Sue touched his arm. “This is Main Street,” she said. “You can buy anything here, anything at all.”

  James barely heard her. He’d come with a group of friends, intending to explore the city and see if the rumours were actually true, but now ... he was torn between the urge to stay and a desire to run. Sue’s friends looked strange, a collection of boys and girls, all wearing outrageously skimpy outfits. A couple of the boys were staring at him approvingly, even though he was right next to Sue. One of them even gave him the thumbs up sign. No Forsaker would have allowed such contact, certainly not in public. It made no sense.

  “You’re just down from the spaceport,” Sue continued. Her voice was sweet. “What’s it really like?”

  “Bad,” James said, finally. He’d thought the estate on Tarsus was bad, but the starship had been worse and the spaceport was unspeakable. Privacy was a joke. His mother and two sisters had had to move to a different tent, just to make room for more unattached men. “I can't wait to move to a farm.”

  “I’m sure there will be a farm soon,” one of the boys said. “They’re always asking for more farmers to move out to the countryside.”

  Sue caught hold of his arm and led him down the street, chattering happily. James couldn't force his body to pull free, not when her touch was sending electric shocks up and down his spine. He didn't want to pull free. His body was aware, very aware, of her breasts bobbling in her dress, mocking him. He wanted to reach for them, to pull them free and run his fingers over them ...

  He shook his head, angrily. It was wrong. He shouldn't be staring at them, let alone thinking of touching them. It was wrong. He should pull free, then run all the way back to the spaceport and purify himself. There was a reason young men weren't allowed to be alone with young women. But his body refused to move. His heart was pounding so loudly that he was surprised she couldn't hear it. It was so hard to think straight ...

  “There’s a party on tonight to raise funds for resettlement,” Sue told him. “Are you interested in going?”

  James hesitated. Joel had been clear, when they’d headed down to the city. They were to be back on the buses and on their way back to the spaceport before dark. James didn't want to annoy Joel or any of the Stewards, but his body insisted he needed to spend more time with Sue. He wanted her. God help him, he'd never felt so ... so what? He didn't have the words for his own feelings. All the quiet banter he’d heard, when the Elders and Stewards had been nowhere to be seen, didn't seem to fit the situation. His body was demanding he promised her anything, as long as he got to touch her.

  “Maybe later,” he managed. Joel and the Stewards would be furious if he failed to return in time. The last thing he wanted was a public whipping. And besides, he didn't quite trust his own body. He’d never been at odds with it before. “We’re not meant to be wandering the city after dark.”

  A young man snickered. “What are you? Children?”

  James flushed, feeling his free hand clench into a fist. “I’m eighteen!”

  “Not if you have a curfew,” the young man said. James felt a surge of sudden hatred, so strong that it almost overpowered him. “Only children have curfews.”

  “They’re new to this world,” Sue reminded her friend. James wondered, suddenly, if they were lovers. It would be unthinkable in the commune ... but then, friendships between men and women were also unthinkable in the commune. What sort of men and women stayed together when they weren't related? “Their rules are different.”

  She turned, standing in front of James. He couldn't help looking down at the swell of her breasts, rising and falling in tune with her breathing. A flush of hot excitement ran through him at the sight, making it impossible to think straight. And then she stepped backwards, sharply. Her face was bright red as she pulled her dress up, hiding her breasts.

  “You shouldn't stare,” she said, reprovingly.

  James started forward, too angry to think clearly. She’d tempted him ... and now she was taunting him? How dare she? The rage blinded him. He reached for her, unsure if he wanted to pull her dress away or hit her. His body demanded revenge, demanded that he hurt her for toying with him ... how dare she? Sue’s face crumpled, turning fearful ... somehow, the fear made his blood boil. She’d lured him in and now she was fearful?

  “Enough,” the young man said. “Get away from her.”

  It would have been threatening if his voice hadn't been shaky. James’s temper boiled over. He swung around and slammed a haymaker into the young man’s chin. His victim tumbled backwards, just as two of his friends came forward. James ducked the blow one of them hurled at him, then slammed a punch into the nearest man’s throat. His friends were fighting too - he saw Simon knocked to the ground by one of the locals - but there were more and more locals heading towards them. A young man slammed into him, shoving him backwards; he slapped him back, only realising that his target was actually a young woman when he saw her hit the ground. Her hair was cut so short that she could pass for a man.

  Joel had been right, he thought, as he turned. Sue was on her knees, screaming helplessly; the sight made his anger boil over, once again. She’d lured him into her clutches, she’d seduced him ... just like Joel and the Stewards had warned him would happen. What was she screaming about? He hadn't even touched her! But he would. He’d make her pay as soon as he fought his way free of her defenders ...

  ***

  The sense that trouble was brewing had been bothering Mike over the past few days, as he patrolled Main Street with a selection of partners. There were just too few police on the ground to cope with any problems, he’d heard; too many policemen had been drawn off to supervise the tent city and guard the spaceport. Not that it mattered, he thought, if several hundred refugees were allowed to visit the city every day. Rumour had it that a number had already vanished, lost without a trace.

  It isn't like you need ID to live here, he thought, as he passed a pair of stalls. The newcomers didn't look that different from the locals. Someone could hide out easily if they spoke the language and didn't mind doing shitty jobs.

  He glanced at Bobbie in alarm as he heard the commotion up ahead, then hit the panic button as he pelted up the street. Shutters, some of them newly installed, were already coming down, vendors hastily grabbing weapons - shotguns and baseball bats - as they prepared to defend their stores. Civilians were streaming in all directions, some heading towards the trouble while others were heading away from it. Mike felt his heart start to race as he heard the Duty Sergeant respond, promising that help was on the way. Every last copper in the district would already have been alerted.

  But we don’t have enough organisation yet, Mike thought, grimly. He’d been told that they’d be running through new training scenarios, but nothing had actually been done. If this is a real riot, we’re in trouble.

  He turned the corner and swore out loud at the sight before him. Five or six Forsakers, judging by their clothes, were fighting seven or eight locals. Several more were lying on the ground, some badly injured. A young girl wearing a very revealing yellow dress was screaming her head off, her arms jerking up and down as if she didn't quite know what to do with herself. Mike drew his truncheon as he saw a handful of bladed weapons being drawn, then blew his whistle loudly. He had a suspicion he should wait for backup, but he knew it wouldn’t arrive in time to help.

  “Get down on the ground,” he shouted, as he started forward. “Now!”

&
nbsp; The locals hesitated, some turning and running while others did as they were told. Mike cursed under his breath - it was unlikely the runners would be caught, unless their friends tattled on them - and braced himself. The Forsakers didn't look as though they were going to give up. From what he’d heard, they had no reason to trust the police - or the courts. Tarsus had blamed everything on its unwanted minority.

  “Get down,” he shouted. “Get down!”

  A Forsaker lunged at him, dagger drawn. Mike swung his truncheon and rapped the young man’s hand, sending the dagger spinning away. It was a poor decision, but he was damned if he was risking a stab wound in the middle of a wrecked street. The Forsaker yelped, then drew back his fist for a punch. Mike sighed, then slammed the truncheon into the young idiot’s jaw. He staggered to one side and collapsed to the ground.

  Another came forward, followed by two more. None of them seemed to be carrying knives, but one of them had picked up a baseball bat from somewhere. Mike knocked the first down, then ducked a wicked swing with the baseball bat. Bobbie cracked the swinger on the head a moment later, his companion throwing himself at her a moment later. Mike turned, just in time to see both of them tumbling down, the Forsaker on top. Bobbie’s helmet protected her head, but she couldn't get her assailant off her ...

  Mike caught him by the scruff of his neck and practically threw him across the street. The Forsaker landed badly - clearly, no one had taught him how to land - but he rolled over and started to stand up at terrifying speed. Mike jumped forward and knocked him down again, slamming the idiot into the ground.

  “Stay down,” he growled, then spun around. “You! Stop!”

  ***

  James was barely aware of what was going on behind him as he walked towards Sue, his fists itching to slam into her face and hurt her for what she’d done. She was screaming, pleading wordlessly for help .... help that would never come. A slut like her didn't deserve protection, didn't deserve a man putting himself in danger for her ... she’d encouraged him, then pulled back when it was too late. He was going to hurt her and he’d enjoy it ...

  He reached for her, a moment before something slammed into his back and sent him falling face-first to the ground. It came up and struck him with terrifying force, stunning him for a long chilling moment. A weight was on his back ... no, someone was on his back. James tried to move, only to discover that he was being expertly held down. Strong hands gripped his wrists and pulled them behind his back, pulling them so hard he could barely resist. A moment later, he felt cold metal snapping around his wrists.

  “You are under arrest,” a voice growled. James froze. A policeman? His rage turned into fear. Hundreds of Forsakers had gone into police cells on Tarsus, few had emerged. And those who had emerged had told all sorts of horror stories. “You have the right to remain silent, but I am obliged to inform you that anything you say will be taken down and used in evidence against you. You have the right to contact a lawyer, which you may do once you have been processed; you may also contact a person of your choice at the same time. Do you understand me?”

  James said nothing. His entire body was shaking. He wasn't sure what to do. Play dumb, pretend he didn't speak Imperial Standard? It wouldn't work for long, if it worked at all. He hadn't had any trouble speaking to the policemen at the checkpoint, had he? Or perhaps just keep his mouth shut? How the hell had he managed to get into such a mess? Sue ... had Sue set him up, right from the start? All the horror stories about Outsider bitches suddenly seemed very believable.

  The policeman shook him. “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” James managed.

  He couldn't keep his body from shaking. If he was lucky, he’d be spending the next few days in a cell with a monster. The stories ... how many of the stories were actually true? Was he going to be someone’s girlfriend by the end of the week? Or maybe the police would just take him behind the station and beat him up, just to teach him a lesson.

  “Good,” the policeman growled. “Stay there.”

  He rose. James turned his head, just in time to see a trio of new policemen arrive. The street suddenly seemed full of policemen, as well as a number of men in white coats. Doctors, he assumed. They were certainly helping with the wounded, moving them onto stretchers and carrying them off into the distance. Beyond them, he saw a handful of middle-aged men and women carrying notebooks. He had no idea who or what they were.

  Sue walked past, her head downcast. A policeman - no, a policewoman - walked next to her, holding her arm gently. She didn't look at him as she passed. James stared after her, wishing that he knew exactly what had happened. She was still wearing the striking dress, but she no longer seemed attractive. Had she meant to seduce him? To get him into a fight? Or had it all been a horrific misunderstanding? How could it all have gone to hell so quickly ...?

  He was dead. The police would probably kill him. God knew a number of prisoners had vanished into the cells on Tarsus and never been seen again. Or maybe they’d kill him. And, if he actually was released, the Elders would pass judgement on him and the Stewards would punish him. Or maybe he would simply be shunned by everyone. He’d have to leave the commune if everyone decided to pretend he didn't exist. He couldn't bear it.

  Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to relax. The ground was hard, the weather was cold and the cuffs were cutting off his circulation. But it was paradise compared to what he knew was coming. And then ... how could everything have gone to hell so quickly? He didn't understand what had happened or why. All he knew was that his life was over ...

  ... And that the worst was yet to come.

  ***

  “Nine injured, sir,” Bobbie said. “Three stabbed; they’re already loaded into stasis pods and on their way to hospital. The remainder have a set of minor injuries, but they’re on their way to hospital too. One of them is also under arrest.”

  Mike nodded. “And the witnesses?”

  “Constable Nobbys got a list of names for later interviews,” Bobbie said. She rubbed her sweaty forehead. She was even less used to violence than Mike himself. “I think we’ll be collecting statements over the next few days.”

  Mike nodded, shortly. Six Forsakers were under arrest, one of them en route to hospital under police supervision. The remaining five were lying on the ground, their hands cuffed behind their backs. Twelve locals were also under arrest. They’d be held in custody until the statements were taken or their families bailed them out. Mike sighed as he looked around, silently toting up the damage. Windows had been smashed, produce had been stolen ... and none of that took the wounded into consideration. They were damn lucky no one had ended up dead.

  It could have been a great deal worse, he told himself, firmly. A riot on Earth would have done far more damage.

  He sobered. And the wounded may not survive.

  “We’ll get them back to the station,” he said. There weren't many locals in sight, save for the ones under arrest, but none of the ones who were visible looked friendly. “And then we can hand them over to the Duty Sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bobbie said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Does that sound harsh? Of course it does. And yet, the survival of the colony itself was at stake. They simply could not afford to feed additional mouths.

  - Professor Leo Caesius. Ethnic Streaming and the End of Empire.

  John hadn't been sure what to make of anything that had happened, since he’d followed Hannah into the cafe. Merely being in such a building was bad enough, but he’d had to fight to keep his eyes off Judith and endure the indignity of having her pay for his tea and sandwich. It had tasted heavenly, of course, but that wasn't the point. The man was supposed to pay, the man was supposed to put food on the table and support his family ...

  He certainly wasn't sure what to make of Judith. Hannah’s friend - and he had no idea how Hannah had even made contact with her - was odd. She wasn't as modest and composed as Hannah, nor was she as blatantly sexual as Casey the li
brarian. Indeed, there was something about the way she moved that bothered him, even though he couldn't put his finger on it. Part of him rather suspected she was considerably more mature than him, although it wasn't something he would have openly admitted. She wasn't coy because she didn't see him as a prospective husband.

  And then they’d heard the riot.

  John glanced out the door, then swore. Men and women were fleeing in all directions, some being knocked down as they fled. He’d seen riots before, on Tarsus. They invariably ended with the police using extreme force to stop them. And the Forsakers who’d been caught up in the madness got the blame.

  “We have to move,” he said. Hannah was already on her feet, one hand clutching at her dress. A dignified woman would never lift it up, but if Hannah had to run ... John silently promised her he wouldn't tell her off, afterwards. “Judith ...?”

  “You could come back to my apartment,” Judith said. “It’s safe ...”