Master of None (56 page)

“Legal recognition of my rights as a human being equal to yours.” “Biological fact proves we are not equal people. That idealistic path has been tried before, and led only to anarchy. We will not allow it to happen on Vanar.” The Daharanan pratha h’máy smiled sympathetically. “Try asking for something a little less ambitious, qanistha bbraetae. What do you want,
personally
?”

“The right to leave the Nga’esha estate whenever I choose without having to ask permission, and to travel anywhere on Vanar I wish.”

“That is an internal Family matter, not one for this Assembly.”

“I respectfully disagree. If I am denied permission by my Family, I should have legal recourse to the courts to enforce that right.”

She frowned, then yielded. “We will consider the lawful basis for such a demand.”

“Thank you. I further wish the right to divorce my wife.” Furious, Eraelin Changriti sprang to her feet, but before she could speak, the Daharanan pratha h’máy placed a restraining hand on her arm, persuading her to sit down again. That the Changriti pratha h’máy subsided so quickly surprised him.

“A moot point,” the Daharanan pratha h’máy said. “Your wife has already dissolved your marriage.”

“It’s not the same thing. Men are still legally considered the property of their wives and have no right to ask for a dissolution of their marriage, for any reason. My wife repudiated me for ‘unmanageable behavior,’ the standard reason women cite for divorcing any kharvah. Evidence to support the allegation isn’t even required.”

“Marriage is a business transaction between Families, not an agreement between two people,” the Daharanan pratha h’máy countered.

“So is divorce. Men are regularly repudiated because their wives have succeeded well enough to attract kharvah from more favorably positioned families. Divorced men can only return to families who pay an indemnity to the wife. The rest become naekulam because their families either can’t or won’t repay the marriage price, an unjust burden on both the men and their families. No one should have to suffer being made naekulam because their wives are greedy or because their families are too poor.”

“Which is not what happened in your case, however,” the subordinate Changriti arbitrator said.

“No,” he admitted. “Neither my wife nor I wanted this divorce. I was repudiated because my wife’s mother ordered her to do so.” Eraelin Changnti glared at him stonily.

“As is her right as the head of her Family,” the Changriti arbitrator retorted.

“Exactly.” He returned her look steadily.

The Daharanan pratha h’máy studied him narrowly. “And were the dalhitri Kallah dva Ushahayam Changriti to agree, would you return to the marriage willingly?” She flicked a hand at Eraelin Changriti’s surge of outrage without even looking at the woman. He glanced between them warily in the sudden realization of how much power the Changriti pratha h’máy had lost.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. This hadn’t been one of the possible responses Namasi had coached him through. “It might be...negotiable. But I request access to our child, my daughter Aenanda, and to have an active say in her future whether I am married or divorced.”

“You share her fatherhood, Nathan Crewe Nga’esha. She is not yours alone.”

“No, she isn’t. She is blessed with two other decent, loving fathers.

Why should she be denied the benefit of any of us? I would insist she continue to see her other fathers as well.”

The Daharanan pratha h’máy sighed. “We will consider your request,” she said without enthusiasm. “Anything else?”

“I wish the right to control my own finances. Not just the interest, but the capital my Family profits from in my name.”

“For what possible purpose? You are Nga’esha. You already earn more money on your Family interest alone than most Vanar women earn in a lifetime.”

“I wish the right to buy and own property in my own name.” “Property?” The Arjusana arbitrator seemed utterly baffled by such an odd request. “What property?”

“I intend to use as much of my own funds as I can afford to buy as much land as I can between the southern coastal plain and up into the mountains north of Dravyam.”

“To do what with?”

“Nothing.”

“A rather extravagant way to make a point, isn’t it?” the Daharanan pratha h’máy said dryly.

“It isn’t to make a point, jah’nari pratha. I’m a botanist. Some of the most interesting and varied native Vanar plant life is to be found in that area. The transformation of land to human use has been slow on Vanar, but the methods are becoming more effective and the rate of destruction of native habitat has tripled in the last ten years alone. At this exponential rate, there will be little if any native Vanar habitat left inside a century. I’d like to establish reserves for scientific examination and encourage our people to study the unique assets this planet has to offer.”

“Isn’t that already Nga’esha land anyway?” Startled, Nathan glanced briefly at the woman who had spoken, a token representative of the Nga’esha Family whom Yronae had instructed to remain uninvolved. But the Nga’esha arbitrator seemed more puzzled than contentious.

“Most of it,” he said. “But it belongs to the Family. Not to me. I have no voice in how it’s used.” He hesitated, having argued with Namasi over revealing too much of their strategy, then decided to risk it. “It would also establish a precedent, jah’nari l’amae. The business and fortunes of the Nga’esha operate in a universe of their own, far beyond the concern of most Vanar. But how many Middle and Common families here have daughters who are forced into professions they would never have chosen for themselves in order to preserve their family’s economic interests, while their sons are excluded, the only future for boys in making a good marriage or becoming sahakharae? How many women marry men they don’t like because they need the family connections? How much unhappiness do these unjust traditions cause
women
?”

He felt rather than heard the ripple through the crowd, knowing he’d struck a nerve.

The Daharanan pratha h’máy gauged the shifting mood of the crowd deftly. “We will consider the legal basis for such a demand,” she said cautiously. “Are you finished?”

He deliberated a moment, weighing how far he could ignore Namasi’s advice as well as annoy his pratha h’máy.

“Not quite,” he said, which earned him a perplexed glance from Namasi. “I wish the right to sit on the board of the Nga’esha Corporation and have an equal vote in any and all business we transact off-world.” He heard Yronae’s gasp of disbelief behind him.

Namasi leaned toward him to whisper, “Are you out of your mind?”

A sentiment echoed a moment later by the Daharanan pratha h’máy. “You don’t seriously expect us to consider such a ridiculous motion for one moment, do you?”

Actually, he did. Just not in his lifetime. “Of course not, jah’nari pratha. But is it not a practical strategy to make a few unreasonable demands you are willing to give up in order to gain those you truly want?”

The Daharanan pratha h’máy grunted disapprovingly. “Possibly. However, I strongly suggest that in future you leave such business tactics to those whose domain it is.”

“Good advice,” Yronae muttered behind him, “which I’d take if I were you.”

“If that concludes your petition?”

“Yes, jah’nari l’amae—” Namasi said quickly. “No.”

“Nathan!”
Namasi hissed at him.

He ignored her, his attention focused on the arbitrators. “I have one more request, this one a personal matter. I wish to adopt a child.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Namasi’s helpless gesture at Yronae, bewildered. The Daharanan pratha h’máy rubbed her forehead as if fighting a headache.

“You, a man, wish to adopt a child?”

“Yes, jah’nari pratha.”

She exhaled impatiently. “What for?”

“Because if you grant me access to see my daughter, then I intend to extend my rights as a father to include someone with even less rights than myself. And more simply, because I love him.”

“Him who?” Pratha Yronae grated out behind him.

He licked dry lips. “Raemik Nga’esha.”

He saw the sudden understanding dawn on Namasi, and wondered if Yronae would be as quick to grasp the ramifications. Especially since he had yet to play their last trick card.

Clearly, they wanted nothing to do with it, however. “We are willing to examine the legal requisites for such an irregular request, but that is a private negotiation you must enter into with the boy’s guardian, in this case, the Pratha Yronae Nga’esha,” she said firmly. “Have you anything else to say to this Assembly?”

“No, jah’nari l’amae.”

“Good.” She leaned back, her eyes narrowed. Now that he had completed his case, he knew the crux would be addressed. “We have had the courtesy to listen to you, Nathan Crewe Nga’esha. But the circumstances surrounding your case are unusual, and our situation urgent. We would like to know what we can expect from you in return for any immediate agreement to some, if not all of your petition.”

Namasi had walked him through this part of her mock trial again and again, acutely conscious of the media attention that would be concentrated on him. But what had seemed clever in the privacy of his library was terrifying in the midst of a crowded Assembly.

“Nothing.”

The shock and dismay on the faces of the arbitrators echoed the rumble of anger in the crowd.

“This is totally unacceptable!” the Daharanan arbitrator retorted, incensed. “The economies of hundreds of worlds, not just the prosperity of the Vanar, rely on the Worms for shipping vital resources. Do you seriously intend to hold us and every inhabited system hostage until we meet your demands?”

Deliberately, Nathan stood. “I have been in contact with the Nga’esha Pilots with the consent of Pratha Yronae. I have asked them, and they have agreed, that regardless of any decision you eventually reach they will reopen the Worms the moment I leave this Assembly. Events happen at a slower pace for Pilots, but I doubt it will be much longer before the other Family Pilots follow suit. The Worms are back in your control, l’amae. Now I am going home.”

He bowed politely and had turned before the Daharanan pratha h’máy called out, “Hold on a moment, qanisth bhraetae.” He stopped, his eyes lowered. Beside him Namasi and Yronae had also stood, waiting. “Explain yourself, please.”

“What is there to explain?” he said without turning.

“You are giving in without a single concession?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He glanced at Yronae before facing the arbitrators. “I believe in the decency and generosity of most Vanar women. Your ancestors raised men literally out of the shit because it was the ethical thing to do. Any change must come from the heart. Because it is right, not because you were forced into it. Otherwise, it is meaningless and I don’t want it.”

Namasi and Yronae had considered this merely a tactical maneuver, but he meant it, every word of it.

“If I am wrong about Vanar women, I will live with the consequences.” He dared to look the Daharanan pratha h’máy directly in the eyes. “And so will you.” He turned slowly, his gaze sweeping across the several hundred women and men watching him.

“And so will you,” he repeated quietly.

Epilogue

(Fourteen Years Later)

“T
HE NEW GRADUATE STUDENT IS HERE
,” R
AEMIK SAID TERSELY
.

Nathan leaned back with his hands on his hips to stretch his spine, and squinted up in the bright sunlight at the large greenhouse extension slowly taking shape. A dozen young men and women, dressed in casual shorts and mati that might have shocked their more conventional parents, clambered over the half-finished frame like agile monkeys. Armed with laser drills and socket wrenches for the inch-thick bolts, a drone crane with another partition in its jaws waited patiently for instructions. Another ten thousand feet above, snow dusted the summits of the Dravyam Peaks, winter on its way.

“Fine,” Nathan said without glancing away from his supervision. “Show her where the women’s dormitory is and tell the kitchen to set another place for dinner.” He winced as a young woman vaulted over the top of the greenhouse girder, doing a lazy handspring onto the scaffolding catwalk. “Goddamn it, Aedwyn! You kill yourself and I’m docking the insurance increase from your pay chit, knock it off!”

The girl just laughed at him merrily, and darted along the scaffolding with no fear for the sheer drop below her.

“The new graduate student does not wish to take instructions from a lowly male underling such as myself.” Raemik’s voice dripped sarcasm. “She wishes to speak only with Dr. N. C. Nga’esha.”

“Ah.” Raemik had used the feminine variation of his title, the error becoming obvious.

Nathan turned to Raemik, whose attention was fixed with naked longing on the young girl still turning cartwheels along the scaffolding. His interest being her reason for showing off, Nathan suspected, the pair in constant rivalry for who could perform the most dangerous gymnastics. “Well, let’s not keep the young lady waiting.”

They walked down the narrow hill path toward the untidy cluster of habitat domes nestled in the valley, sheltered from the raw wind by the lee side of the mountain and the thick stand of native forest. The largest served as both Nathan’s private office and quarters, where an irritable young woman in an elegant Arjusana sati totally unsuited for the climate paced the small entrance foyer and kicked the small pile of luggage on the floor. She turned and scowled as they entered.

“I didn’t instruct you to fetch yet another useless flunky,” she snapped at Raemik. “I told you to inform Dr. Nga’esha that I had arrived.”

Raemik shot a heated look at Nathan before crossing to a small window ledge to practically throw himself onto it with studied disdain. The younger man sported the latest off-world fashion with a Vanar twist; loose native kirtiya blouse tucked into skin-tight pants many Vanar considered indecent.

Nathan pressed his palms together and bowed to the woman politely. “He did, l’amae.” He ignored Raemik’s pleasure at her expression of disbelief, keeping his own gaze averted just over her shoulder.