Star Wars_ MedStar 02_ Jedi Healer - Michael Reaves [88]
“The good son or daughter comes home and takes an enster spouse. But this is a wife or husband who enters into the marriage for reasons of commerce or position only. The newlyweds hire a housekeeper or a gardener or cook who just happens to be an ekster—you can see where I’m going with this.”
His uncle said nothing.
“Technically,” Jos continued, “there’s not even a prohibition against that kind of arrangement. And so everyone’s happy. No scandal, no shame, and if the ‘housekeeper’ becomes pregnant through an unknown liaison, why, her child could be raised by her employers almost as if it’s one of their own—such is their care and concern for a valued employee. Perhaps even adopted legally, since more and more of these enster marriages seem to be turning out barren.
“And, of course, if the child of a good wife resembles the gardener, or the issue of the maid looks like her employer, well, that can only be a coincidence.”
His uncle shook his head. “This is being practiced on the homeworld?”
“Widely and more frequently all the time.”
Erel looked as if he’d bitten into something sour. “Well. There’s your answer, then.”
“No, sir, it is not!” Jos replied. His tone grew hot again, but this time he didn’t throttle back. “I will not subject my spouse to such a practice—living a lie that fools no one, just to maintain an archaic and anachronistic practice that no longer serves any purpose. I would take Tolk to myself as wife everlasting, and any who find that unacceptable can open their hatches and sniff vacuum, for all I care.”
“Your family—”
“Tolk is my family! She ranks first and foremost. Everyone else from now on comes in second. I love her. I cannot see any life without her. And if I have to crawl across an obsidian razor field on my hands and knees to convince her of this, I will.”
The older man smiled.
“Something amusing?” Jos felt his anger surge hotter. He was going to hit the man, great-uncle, commanding officer, or not—!
“I made that same speech to my brother, long before you were born.” He stood. “Congratulations, nephew. I will support your choice in any way that I can.”
Jos blinked, feeling like he’d been whiplashed by one of those hard banks against vacuum he’d seen fighter pilots pull. “What?”
“To go against thousands of years of custom is not a task for the weak. If Tolk meant anything less to you, you’d ultimately regret it. As you say, you might anyway—but at least you’re starting from a position of strength.”
Jos leaned across the desk and looked the older man in the eye. “At the moment, Uncle, thanks to your meddling, I’m starting from nowhere. Tolk is going to transfer to another Rimsoo. She isn’t talking to me now. Somehow I don’t see things getting better with a thousand klicks of water between us.”
“Son, nobody in the Republic Expeditionary Medical Force goes anywhere on this planet without my leave. If the woman you love is worth giving up everything else you have to be with, then you have something that’s worth doing. I’ll correct my mistake. She’ll be around.”
“But—how? The damage has already been done. How can you—?”
“By letting Tolk watch the recording of this conversation,” Admiral Kersos said. “She was willing to give you up because she loves you. If she sees and hears how much you love her, it will make a difference.”
Jos sat down, feeling like he’d just climbed a skyhook. Could Uncle Erel rectify his mistake? Or was it already too late?
“Don’t worry, Jos. What I break, I fix.”
And for the first time in days, Jos felt a sense of hope stirring in him.
33
Den Dhur sat by himself in the cantina and brooded.
He had finished drafting his piece on the mutating bota, and, all modesty aside, he considered it one of his best efforts. He’d managed to tie some being-interest angles into it, by examining the potential ways in which various species would be affected by the loss of the miracle adaptogenic,