Eland and Jeanne (Tales of the Shareem) (14 page)

“I will tell you what would happen if the Shareem were allowed to freely walk the streets,” a veiled, highborn woman from the Serestine Quarter declared. “They would abduct and force any woman they fancied. None of us would be safe from them—not me, not any woman, highborn or from the lower city. Their strength is far greater than any Bor Nargan man’s, and we’d be powerless against them. They are like predators who pretend to be friendly until they lure you into their dens.”

“That is total bullshit!”

Jeanne was on her feet, her voice ringing across the vast council chamber, cutting into the councilwoman’s words. She was shaking all over, her throat dry, but like hell was she going to sit here and let Eland be condemned to death from these people’s ignorance.

The councilwomen looked up in surprise, then disapproval. The bailiff, a large woman with a sidearm, bellowed, “Order!”

The head of the council, the matriarch of the ruling family, looked up at the balcony with steady eyes. “No, let her be. The rule of this council is that any citizen of Bor Narga is allowed to speak on a point. There are procedures, however.” Her face appeared on monitors throughout the large hall, so Jeanne could see her expression of disapproval.

“Yes, please let me address the council,” Jeanne said. “The Shareem are sentient beings. Same as you and me.”

The councilwomen looked shocked, even the ones arguing in the Shareem’s favor. Hard-bodied, decadent men were the same as Bor Nargans from the best families? Unthinkable and untrue.

Judith looked alarmed, but she stood up beside Jeanne and faced the council, showing she was willing to back Jeanne up.

“Very well,” the matriarch, a formidable woman named Clothilde d’Aroth, said coldly. “Bailiff, bring that young woman down. She will stand in the box and say her piece, then leave the decision to the council. As is
procedure
.”

Gods, yes, let procedure be the most important thing of all. The small matter of men being killed for no reason should fade in the face of proper protocol.

An usher in the gallery motioned Jeanne to follow. Judith hugged Jeanne and wished her luck, then Jeanne followed the usher to an elevator and down to the floor of the council chamber.

The bailiff, not looking happy, led Jeanne to the raised platform enclosed by a low stone parapet that was the petitioner’s box. Jeanne’s hands shook as she rested them on the edge of the stone railing. She stood a little above everyone in this box, so that all eyes could see her. Thus, the women of Bor Narga had the power to instruct even the ruling council.

Jeanne didn’t feel empowered, she felt singled out, like a child in school, while the ruling council—and the entire planet of Bor Narga watching on vids—waited for her to explain herself.

She had to state her full name, what part of town she came from, and what she did for a living for the record. After that, she could speak her mind.

“Yes, I argue that they’re sentient.” Jeanne’s voice was dry, and she desperately needed a drink of water. “I have known one of these Shareem, have known him for weeks, even though I was aware they were outlawed, and that I’d go to prison for helping him. You can send me to prison—fine—but these men did nothing to deserve to be terminated.”

Jeanne ran her tongue over her cracked lips. Her carefully thought out arguments, which she’d rehearsed with Judith, had gone out of her head.

So, she went with what was in her heart.

“The Shareem exist, through no fault of their own,” Jeanne said. “This man I met came to me, needing help. He was dying of thirst, exhausted beyond measure. Isn’t it Bor Nargan law that we share water and shelter? No matter what? So I let him in, gave him water, let him clean himself up and rest.

“He showed me that he understood everything about sex, a practice that is frowned upon by our society. Again, that is not his fault. He told me he was a level three, and explained to me clearly what that meant. But he proved to me that he can make choices, reason things out, and suppress his instincts when he needs to. He made sure that I was never hurt, never afraid, that I was well cared for, at all times. Even when we weren’t together, he looked out for me.”

“If I can interject.” A highborn woman rose, her robes proclaiming her a widow in a prominent family. “These Shareem, these so-called level threes—they are programmed to protect the object of their perversions, until they are finished with them.”

Bitch.
Jeanne clamped her lips together. Swearing would only get her tossed out.

“This Shareem
worried
about me,” Jeanne went on. “He looked in on me as often as he could. He could have been finished with me at any time, gone on to the next woman, found a way to sneak off-world by himself, but he didn’t. He stayed to make sure I was all right. He looked after his friends as well, the other Shareem.
Sentient
beings do that. Same as
you
would with your close friends, and your family.”

Jeanne turned to the matriarch.

“Lady d’Aroth, the Shareem are
not
mindless animals, and they are not androids. Bor Narga is known for its equality—whether highborn or dockworker. We all have the same rights, the same voice in how our world is run.”

More or less,
a voice in Jeanne’s head added, but she wasn’t going to point out the uneven ranks of the council right now.

“Off-world governments point to us as an example of a society that works,” Jeanne went on. “We have no slavery or indentured servitude. Every citizen has the protection of law. To say that the Shareem, who were born of Bor Narga from Bor Nargan DNA, are animals, means that the rest of us can’t be much different. Most of us here in this room started our lives in test tubes.”

At least seven of the woman of the council jumped up and started shouting at her, and Jeanne heard boos from the gallery as well as cheers.

“I stand by what I say,” Jeanne said loudly. “The Shareem are as human as we are—”

“That is
enough
.” Lady d’Aroth didn’t have to raise her voice. She sent those syllables out into the air, and all who heard them stopped. “You have had your say, Jeanne …” She consulted her handheld “… Narren. The fact that you broke the law not reporting that you’d found one of these Shareem, when there was a manhunt on for them … well, that will have to be taken up at another time. Thank you for your opinion. Please return to your seat.”

Jeanne let out her breath. She could yell at them some more, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good.

She pressed her tongue between her teeth, made the required polite bow to Lady d’Aroth, and descended the short stairs from the stand.

Lady d’Aroth rose. “The council has ended for today. We will adjourn to private chambers and discuss the question.”

Another usher hurried Jeanne to one side as the ruling council stood, bowed first to Lady d’Aroth, then to the assembled audience, and filed out.

“You did good, kid,” Judith said when Jeanne met up with her outside the hall. “That was wonderful.” She gathered Jeanne into a quick hug.

Jeanne, shuddering, was glad of Judith’s reassuring hand as they walked away from the government compound. “I don’t know if it did any good,” Jeanne said, and sighed. “I guess now we wait.”

***

Judith and Jeanne spent another night in the tiny boardinghouse on the hill, but when the council hadn’t announced a decision by morning, Jeanne knew she had to go back to work. She wasn’t a highborn woman who could sit around watching vids all day. If she lost her job, she’d have to wander the docks a long time looking for another one.

Concentrating on work was difficult, though. Locating a crate that had come in from Station 579 but had gotten moved to warehouse 42 in the green sector instead of 24 in the brown sector just wasn’t holding her attention.

Two more days passed. Jeanne worked like a robot, ate tasteless nutrition cubes, drank water out of habit, and went home to lie sleeplessly in bed. She couldn’t even get up the energy to go to Judith’s. The bar, without the Shareem, would be empty and cold.

A sandstorm hit on the third day after the council meeting. Jeanne, already at work, joined the other dozen women on her shift in the shelter of the break room to ride out the storm.

Jeanne sipped water and waited listlessly, unable to join the card game some of her co-workers had started. A monitor played a news feed that crackled in and out. Jeanne didn’t pay much attention to it, until a newscaster declared:

A surprising vote from the ruling council after three long days of debate on the men called Shareem.

“What?” Jeanne snapped around. “What did she just say? Turn that up.”

Her friend Tara grabbed a remote and cranked up the sound. The other workers, who’d known Jeanne had gone up to the hill and addressed the council, watched with interest.

Hot debate as to whether the Shareem, created at the now-defunct genetic engineering laboratory called DNAmo, were sentient beings and so allowed the rights allocated to all Bor Nargans, lasted three long days. The council vote was divided, argument shifting the decision pro and con.

It appears that finally, when the council could not come to a majority for or against, the leader of the ruling family, Lady Clothilde d’Aroth, used the overruling vote that hasn’t been used for nearly a decade to make the final decision.

Speaking in the hall last night, to a handful of listeners, she proclaimed …

The vid cut to Lady d’Aroth standing in her place in the council chamber. All lights had been dimmed with the exception of one on her, illuminating her in a soft glow.

“I have thought carefully on this,” Lady d’Aroth said, her back straight, head high. “I have weighed all arguments and looked through the research available to us. I have decided to use my vote to settle the matter, which is …”

The vid at this point crackled and started to cut out. Jeanne found herself on a chair shaking the monitor, as though that would clear up the feed.

When the static died, Lady d’Aroth was still talking. “Bor Narga is a world where freedom is the norm. We do not tolerate enforced servitude by anyone. Even off-worlders must abide by our rules while they are here. Let it not be said that Bor Narga changes their policies for their own convenience. Let us continue to be a shining example for backward worlds who look to us for guidance.”

“Yeah, go on and save face, honey,” Tara said, snorting a laugh. “A shining example of how great it is to be highborn.”

Several others laughed. “Shh,” Jeanne said impatiently.

“Shareem are clearly not the same as ordinary humans,” Lady d’Aroth said. “Nor are they wholly Bor Nargan.”

How does she know?
Jeanne thought angrily.
What if some of
her
DNA ended up in one of the Shareem vats?

“Therefore, they cannot be given full rights as Bor Nargan citizens.”

Jeanne’s heart went ice cold. She climbed down from the chair, her limbs stiff, fingers numb.

“However, since Bor Narga will never advocate wholesale slaughter of a people because they are different, the Shareem will be allowed to go about their business, with the following restrictions…”

The news feed cut out entirely to be replaced by static, a gift of the harsh sandstorm.

Jeanne didn’t notice. She barely heard her friends say, “What do you know? They listened to you, Jeanne. Actually listened.”

“Brave of you to stand up for these guys, Jeanne.”

“Why did you do it, anyway?” Tara asked. “Jeanne … Jeanne… you all right?”

Jeanne had no idea. The floor was rushing up to meet her as her legs bent, no feeling in them whatsoever. She saw nothing, heard nothing—the world a mere buzz in the background.

Only one thing was clear to her, blazing in glory like the Bor Nargan sun.

Eland would live.

Chapter Fourteen

“Seriously?” Rio said. “We have to put up with this shit just to walk around?”

Rees listened to his friend bellyache, but with gladness in his heart. He wouldn’t have to watch any more Shareem die. They’d be safe. The Shareem being out of DNAmo and on the run was his fault, after all.

The ruling council had decided that the Shareem would be allowed to live, but under certain conditions. The Shareem had been reclassified from Non-Sentient Beings to Non-Human Life Forms. Bor Nargans loved to stick a label on everyone, Rees reflected. There was a ministry for Non-Human Life Forms—of course there was—and Shareem had to report to them.

Holopics were taken of each Shareem. They were interviewed, and their information, combined with records kept by DNAmo, entered into Bor Narga’s massive databases.

Shareem were given thorough physical exams, inoculated against every disease known and theorized to exist, and given sterility drugs.
Wouldn’t want us spreading our rogue DNA to another generation,
Rio said cynically.

Though Shareem argued that DNAmo had already engineered them to be disease-free, didn’t matter. A full barrage of shots was given, and they were all shoved into sterilization baths.