The judge held up a hand. “Noted, Mr. Howard. That won’t be necessary.” The judge looked to Mr. Long. “Final statement, Mr. Long?”
“CPJCT regulations on freedom of religion do not specify gender or sex when establishing bona fides of celebrants, your honor. The rule as written suppresses that freedom by requiring the practitioner to be male.”
“Is it your position, Mr. Long, that women are prohibited from being spiritual leaders on St. Cloud because of this rule?”
“It is, your honor.”
The judge pursed his lips and looked at Howard. “Rebuttal, Mr. Howard?”
“Completely unfounded assertion, your honor.”
Long scoffed but the judge held up a warning hand. “Explain, Mr. Howard.”
“The rule only defines who may have the title of shaman. The rule establishes that men who have the title may be exempt from the standard CPJCT regulation on employees and dependent residents of the planet. The rule does not prohibit women from serving as spiritual leaders or any other role they may desire on planet so long as they abide by the company rules and CPJCT regulations in force in every other system in the Western Annex.”
“Mr. Long?” the judge asked.
Long cast a long and venomous look at Howard. “Mr. Long’s statement is correct except that there are no company positions for spiritual leader on St. Cloud. If a woman were to take on the role, it must be in addition to being a dependent or an employee of the company, a burden men are not obliged to carry.”
“Your honor, there is no requirement that any company leasing a system from the CPJCT have a paid spiritual leader position. So long as they satisfy the requirements for mental and physical health and support the social welfare of their employees and dependents in compliance with Title Four of—”
“I have it, Mr. Howard. Thank you.” He looked at Long. “Anything else, Mr. Long?”
Long sighed and shook his head. “Nothing further, your honor.”
“Mr. Howard?”
“No, your honor.”
The judge scowled at his tablet again. “I’ll publish a formal ruling within forty-eight standard hours as required by CPJCT regulations. Hearing dismissed.”
The two counsels stood and left the room, Long holding the door for Howard before following him out.
“Questions, Mr. Pirano?” the judge asked.
“You don’t look happy,” Jimmy said.
The judge swiped the surface of his tablet and stuffed it into his case. “I’m not. This is a screwed-up rule and it should be overturned.”
“But you won’t.”
The judge sighed. “I can’t. For all that Howard is a pain in the ass, he’s got the law on his side. So long as the company won’t budge ...?” The judge raised his eyebrows, staring at Jimmy.
“I’m just the driver on this bus. I don’t get to pick the route,” Jimmy said.
“You’re not happy about it either, I take it?”
Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t understand it.”
The judge paused and tilted his head to one side. “In what way?”
“Why do we fight it when it would cost less and create fewer problems to just include women? I don’t get it.”
“Have you asked your father?” the judge asked, curiosity apparent in his tone. “He’s the one who set it up.”
“I have.”
“I take it he didn’t give you a satisfactory answer.”
Jimmy shook his head. “He didn’t.”
The judge nodded. “As long as the company is willing to keep paying the adjudication fees and abides by the regulations, my hands are tied.”
“She’s out of luck, I take it,” Jimmy said.
The judge shrugged. “Same arguments as the last five, based on my case file. Same rules apply. Nobody wants to make a different argument or take a different stance.” He shrugged again.
“The definition of insanity,” Jimmy said.
“More like having to test the limits about once a generation, I’d say,” the judge said.
“Something like that, I suppose,” Jimmy said, standing to shake the judge’s hand. “Thanks for your work, thankless though it might be.”
The judge snickered. “Not as thankless as yours, I suspect. Good luck, Mr. Pirano. See you in ten stanyers.”
Jimmy sighed as the judge let himself out the back door and off to his waiting transport.
* * *
Jimmy walked into his office only to find the company lawyer waiting for him there, staring out the window at the harbor. “Mr. Howard. I thought you’d be on your way off planet by now.”
“Soon. I’m on the evening shuttle out of Starvey Bay. I have a message for you before I leave.”
“Can I get you some refreshment? Cup of coffee?”
Howard shook his head. “I’ve hired a flitter to take me on a little sight-seeing tour while I’m here.”
“Sight-seeing?”
“You must admit,” Howard said with a small, almost self-deprecating smile. “Compared to Dunsany, the coastline between here and Starvey Bay is particularly scenic.”
Jimmy nodded, conceding the point. “You mentioned a message?”
“Your father asked me to remind you that the shaman rule is in place for a reason. You would be well served by not trying to subvert it.”
“Did he happen to share that reason with you?” Jimmy asked.
Howard smiled and shook his head. “Let’s just say the board is not averse to pulling the plug on the South Coast shamans. The company spends an inordinate number of credits on a tiny portion of the population.”
Jimmy nodded, letting the words settle while he schooled his features. “Anything else from dear old Dad?”
Howard pulled a data chip from his pocket and held it out. “He asked me to give you this.”
Jimmy took the chip and wrapped a fist around it. “You know what’s on it?”
Howard shook his head. “Only that I should put it in your hand personally.” He picked up his case and headed for the door. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Pirano. I’ll show myself out.”
Jimmy stepped out of his path and struggled to contain his anger. He forced his fists to relax, tossing the chip onto his desk before pushing his palms over his scalp, one after the other.
“Message received,” he said. The words sounding hollow in the empty room.
He crossed to his desk and slotted the chip into its reader. It contained a single video file. He opened it to an image of his father. He looked older—a lot older. Loose skin hung off his neck and his hair consisted of a few wisps. Age spots mottled the exposed scalp. Jimmy pressed play.
“Jimmy. Heed Howard’s words. There’s no way we’re backing off this.” He paused and ran his tongue over his lower lip, taking a couple of noisy breaths. “The damn doctors say I can’t travel right now or I’d come out there myself but mark my words, boy. We’ll fight this every time it comes up. You forget that and you’ll be here in Dunsany, chained to a desk for the rest of your life.” His eyes glittered as he stared into the camera. “The rule’s there for a reason and I’m damned if I’ll see it changed to include women. I’ll rescind it first.” He paused and swallowed a couple of times, his mouth working. “Mark that down. Son of the shaman or none of the shaman.”
The screen froze, playback complete.
Tony Spinelli stuck his head in. “What did Howard the Coward want?”
“To pass a message from the Ole Man.”
“Oh, do tell.”
“He warned me about tinkering with the shaman rule.”
Tony’s eyebrows rose over widened eyes. “Or what? They’ll fire you?”
“Well, that or kill the rule altogether.”
Tony rocked back on his heels and shook his head. “Like anybody can just step into your shoes and run this place?”
Jimmy stood and crossed to look out the window. “He sent a video message with Howard.” He waved a hand at his console. “It’s short. Watch it.”
When it ended, Tony sighed. “He doesn’t look good.”
“He’s failing,” Jimmy said.
“Probably to be expected. How old is he?” Tony asked.
“He’s got to be closing in on his second century. He was in his sixties when he came here to set up the Combine.”
“You think he’s still got it?” Tony asked.
“His mind, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
Jimmy sighed and watched a gull soaring across the harbor. “I’ve no reason to believe he hasn’t.”
“That seemed like a pretty irrational rant to me,” Tony said.
“You remember the quota fiasco, don’t you?” Jimmy asked, turning to look at Tony. “We thought he was irrational then.”
“Oh, yeah,” Tony said. “But he wasn’t foaming at the mouth and his bodyguard wasn’t acting as his nurse.” Tony glanced at the screen again. “Who are these doctors?”
Jimmy shrugged and shook his head.
“What do we do now?” Tony asked.
“Hope that we go a few more stanyers before we get hit again. Get back to work. Speaking of which, have you found me an assistant yet?”
Tony flipped him a rude hand gesture and left the office, chuckling as he went down the hall.
Jimmy snorted and stared out at the harbor, letting the familiar scene soothe the rough edges of his anger while his brain felt like a gerbil on a treadmill, running hard on a path that never seemed to end.
CHAPTER NINE
Cape Grace: May 25, 2334
WHEN THE PLANNERS LAID out the town, they put the community center where it belonged, in the center. It served as meeting place, company office, and—occasionally—school. Sarah held Otto’s hand as they made the walk into town.
“Will I have fun, Papa?” she asked, looking up at him.
He glanced down at her and smiled. “I think so. There will be other kids to play with. Teachers who’ll give you things to read, show you games to play.”
“I can already read, Papa.” Her steps lagged.
Otto found he had to slow down to keep from dragging her. “You read very well.”
“What if I don’t like the other kids?”
“Why would you not like them?”
“What if they’re mean?”
“Why would they be mean?”
She bit her lower lip and sighed. “I wanna go on the beach with you. Find sticks.”
“The tide’s too high. We’ll go this afternoon.”
She tugged on his hand. “Promise?”
“Promise. You go to school. Meet with Ms. Tandy. Meet the other kids. I’ll be back to get you for lunch. After lunch, we’ll go to the beach and find sticks.”
As they got closer, they saw other children converging on the building. A few had parents in tow, most were larger, older than Sarah. Otto recognized many of the adults. He nodded and smiled at them as they fell into a rough parade, the adults scattered among the trickle of kids. Two boys streaked past, their legs and arms pumping as they pelted down the street, one slightly ahead of the other. A pair of girls, a couple of years older than Sarah, fell into line ahead of Otto and Sarah. They offered tentative smiles at him with his staff and hat and curious glances at her. In moments they had their heads together and walked arm in arm. They giggled and whispered as they walked.
The double doors on the center swallowed the thin parade of small people with their attendant adults. Otto followed along, but stopped at a door marked “Educational Coordinator” while the others continued into the building. He glanced down at Sarah, who pulled on his hand and stood very close to his leg. “You ready?” he asked.
She looked up at him. “Do I have ta?”
“It’s for the best.”
She took a deep breath and blew it out. Her lips flattened in a determined line. “I’m ready.”
He opened the door and ushered her into the office.
“Good morning, Otto.” The man behind the counter smiled. “Good morning, Sarah.”
“Sarah, this is Mr. Ward.”
Sarah looked up at her father and then up at Mr. Ward. She released her father’s hand and held it up to the admin. “Good mornin’, Mr. Ward. Please ta meecha.”
Ward shook the small girl’s hand with a solemn expression. “I’m pleased to meet you, Sarah. Are you ready to get started?”
For a long moment, Sarah seemed to be considering it. “Yes,” she said at last.
“Excellent.” Mr. Ward beamed. “I’ll just take you down to meet Ms. Tandy.”
Otto crouched to be on her level. “You have fun. I’ll meet you outside after school and we’ll go get some lunch.”
“And then walk on the beach and find sticks?” she asked.
“And then walk on the beach and find sticks.”
She looked up at Mr. Ward and then back at Otto. “All right.”
“If you’d wait here a moment, Otto? I’ll just get Miss Sarah here introduced.”
Otto straightened up and nodded. “Of course.”
Mr. Ward opened the door and ushered Sarah out into the hall. The traffic had dissipated and Sarah looked back over her shoulder once. Otto grinned and waved. “Have fun, sweetie.”
The door closed behind them with a snick of the latch. For two heartbeats, Otto felt tempted to chase after them, to take her back home. The irrationality of it made him smile at himself. Still, the smell of the floor wax, the rumble of voices elsewhere in the building, and the simple structure of it took him back to his own first day at school.
He remembered meeting the school administrator. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember her name, only the flowery scent she wore. She had strong hands. He hadn’t really had much contact with her but he remembered being frightened at meeting her. She seemed huge.
He’d gone for his five years of school almost every day. Two days a week, he didn’t have to go. Every other day he met his mother—sometimes his father—standing outside the door of a community center like this one back in Callum’s Cove.
The door opened and Mr. Ward stepped back into the office. “There. She’s settled in. Olive will take good care of her.”
“I can pick her up at noon?”
“Yes. We release them at noon, straight up. A lot of the parents who work in town break for lunch then, so it’s handy.”
“Thanks.” Otto stood there for a few moments without moving.
“Something else?” Mr. Ward asked.
Otto gave a little shake of his head. “First time in five stanyers I haven’t had to take care of her. Other than naps and the like.” He looked over at Ward. “It feels odd.”
Ward nodded and offered a smile. “It can’t have been easy by yourself, but she seems pretty well adjusted. Not one in ten kids comes in here with enough confidence to shake my hand.”
Otto looked down at his boots and grinned. “We practiced.”
Ward chuckled. “Practiced meeting me?”
“Well, not just you. How to greet people politely.”
“Maybe we should offer a class in that,” Ward said. “Wanna teach it?”
Otto shook his head. “Oh, no. One’s enough. More than enough most days.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve got two of my own, mostly grown now but when they were here, it made my life interesting.” He paused for a moment. “Can I ask you something, Otto?”
Otto shrugged. “I guess.”
“The shaman thing? Son of the shaman is a shaman and all?”
“What about it?”
Ward looked down at the counter in front of him and gave Otto a look out of the side of his eyes. “I see you walking around town. What is it you do? Besides bless the fleet and all.”
Otto considered the man’s questions. “It’s hard to explain. My father always said we listen to the world.”
“Do you hear
it?”
“Sometimes. Mostly I walk on the beach and find driftwood to carve whelkies. I do a lot of listening. Sometimes folks just need somebody to talk to. Or to sit with them when they’re sick or lonely.”
“Son of the shaman?”
“Actually, my grandfather came to his gift late in life and my great-grand was a sheepherder over on the Eastern Reaches. Still is, actually.”
“So your father became a shaman? Now you?”
“Yep. Father splits his time between Callum Cove and the offshore platforms. He says he likes the quiet. It’s easier to hear the world out there.”
“So, you mentioned the gift. Can you tell me what it is?”
Otto laughed. “If I knew, I would. It’s not like there’s some secret shaman organization to protect the world from our arcane powers. I’m not bound to secrecy. I didn’t have to take a pledge to do good, or anything.”
“Then what is it? How do you know you have it?”
Otto shrugged. “Well, basically, if you’re the firstborn son of a shaman, that’s it. The only real significance is that the company can’t deport me if I don’t have a job working for the company.”
“So you don’t have to fish or teach school or anything?”
“I also don’t get paid, unless it’s a place that offers a stipend. I met Sarah’s mother over in Maggie’s Landing. They’re out on the Eastern Reaches and offer a cottage and a bit of company scrip to their shaman.”
“I thought most of the South Coast had cottages for the shaman.”
“They do now. When was the last time the company established a new village?”
Ward nodded. “I see your point.”
“Company provides housing for all their employees, but my grandfather built our house in Callum’s Cove after he came into his gift and before my father was born.”
“What about Sarah? She inherit the gift?”
Otto felt his heart stop. “Why? Did she say anything?”
Ward’s eyebrows went up and he shook his head. “Just asking.”
“Only sons get to be shamans,” Otto said. “Everybody else has to work for the company or leave St. Cloud.”
Ward looked at him for several long moments. “I see,” he said.
Cape Grace Page 6
