Star Wars_ MedStar 02_ Jedi Healer - Michael Reaves [87]
“In your place, I expect I would feel the same way.”
They were in the admiral’s office on MedStar, and they were alone, but Jos somehow suspected that if he started smashing Erel’s face in, somebody might come to see what the noise was about. Several somebodies, in fact, all of them military security, large, humorless, and armed.
Not that it mattered. The way he felt right now, no one and nothing could stop him if he wanted to slug his long-lost uncle.
“How dare you interfere between us this way? What gives you the right?
“I only wanted to spare you grief.”
“Spare me grief? By driving off the woman I love? Sorry, Doctor, but I don’t quite see the medical indication there. Tolk is the cure for so much of what bothers me, hurts me, scares me, that I cannot begin to explain it to you!” Jos paced up and down, seething, for a moment. “I still can’t believe she listened to you!”
“That she did this is a measure of her love and regard for you, Jos.”
“How do you figure that?”
“She doesn’t want to see you ostracized from your family and friends.”
“Because you painted for her such a grim and ugly picture of what it would be like. You made it sound like we’d be looked at as the scum of the entire galaxy.”
“I admit that I did.”
Jos had to consciously unclench his hands. He took a deep breath, let it out, took another. Easy, he told himself. Smashing the admiral’s nose might be very satisfying, but it would also be a bad move, no matter how much the man deserved it. He’s a doctor, Jos reminded himself. He was doing what he thought best. But it was still hard. He wanted to deck the old man. A lot.
Even so, his anger was not quite at nova intensity anymore. Jos took another deep breath and said, “Well, Uncle, if my family is not willing to accept the woman I love, then they’re family in name only, and I’m better off without them.”
Kersos shook his head, a gesture of infinite weariness. “I thought so, too. I’ve been down this path, Jos.”
“But you are not me. I might have lived to regret it— though I doubt it—but even if I did, it would have been my choice. I should get to make it.”
“It isn’t that easy, son. You speak of cultural mores that have been around for thousands of years. There is much tradition to justify them.”
“And sixty or eighty years from now, much of that culture and tradition, including the prohibitions against ensters and eksters, will be gone.” Jos paused, struggling to gather his anger back in. He could explain this to his uncle. He was smart and articulate; if he could explain a complicated procedure to a nervous patient, he could surely couch this in understandable terms.
“Listen,” he said. “You were far ahead of your time, and I’m still ahead of it. But my children and their children will not have to deal with such mindless mopek.”
Uncle Erel shook his head. “I find this difficult to believe. Are you able to foresee the future?”
Jos shook his head, sighed. “I can see the present, Uncle.” He paused again. “It’s been a long while since you were on the homeworld. Have you ever heard the term Hustru fönster?”
His uncle shook his head. “It sounds like Hoodish.”
“Close. It’s Vulanish, a similar obscure dialect from the Great Southern Reaches. I believe the last native speakers of the language on our world passed away fifty years ago. Anyway, Hustru fönster means ‘the wife in the window.’ It’s a term that’s come into usage in the last few years, and not one spoken in polite gatherings.”
His great-uncle looked puzzled.
Jos continued. “Suppose we have a young man of good family who finds himself drawn to an ekster girl. Okay, so, everyone winks and nods and glances away while he gives in to his wild urges and gets his drive tubes scoured. It’s not condoned, but it’s permitted, as long as he comes back to the fold.
“But more and more of late, the good sons, and the good daughters,