“What a crock of shit!” Kendi exploded. “I can’t believe you would—”
“I didn’t say I agreed with them, Father,” Dallay said. “These are just their arguments. We have our own side—that the embryos and the babies have a living relative in Mr. Rymar, and his custody overrides the Church’s, that the Children were clearly uninterested in the embryos and failed to claim them after Grandfather Melthine’s death, and that it would be cruel and unfair to separate these children from their parents.”
“I do not suppose,” Ched-Muskin said, “that you filed any adoption papers on behalf of the young ones?”
Ben shook his head. “It didn’t even cross my mind. God, do you think they have a chance of winning?”
“We argued for a dismissal, of course,” Dallay said, “but the judge denied it. We could have pushed for a jury trial, but we would, in all likelihood, have Ched-Balaar on the jury, and they would be likely to decide hastily on a case involving a taboo subject like children. The same would go for a Ched-Balaar judge. We moved for a simple hearing before a human judge, and we got it. That’s the good news.”
“And the bad?” Kendi asked.
“Because Ms. Mashib is due at any moment, the Church moved for a speedy trial and got it,” Ched-Muskin said. “This means we have less time to prepare, and you may be certain the opposition has been preparing since Mr. Rymar’s first press conference.”
“Wait a moment,” Harenn said. “You said that if the embryos are classified as property, they are salvage and should be returned to the Children of Irfan. The Church cannot sue Ben for harm suffered by the Children of Irfan. The Church can only sue Ben for harm he has done to the
Church
. “ll we need do is persuade a judge to call the embryos property, and the Church no longer has a case.”
“Normally this would be true,” Dallay said. “Except the Church is affiliated with the Children. The Council of Irfan has granted the Church the power to sue in their name.”
“
Grandmother Pyori
is behind this?” Kendi sputtered. “I can’t believe it!”
Ben said, “So what can we—”
The door opened and Lucia entered. She was entering her third trimester, and her steps were slow and measured.
“Lucia!” Kendi said. “Where have you been? And what the hell do you mean by—”
“I had nothing to do with the lawsuit,” Lucia replied in her usual calm, serene tones. “You know me better than that, Kendi. I have been talking with people in my Church, trying to find out what
they
mean by all this.”
“That was unwise,” Ched-Muskin said. “You are involved in this lawsuit, and anything you said could be used in court.”
“I have recordings of it all,” Lucia said. “And I was careful to say as little as possible. Do you want to hear what I learned?”
“Go,” Ben said tightly.
“The Church is divided. Many members see this for what it is—a chance to grab power and prestige through Irfan’s progeny. A fair number want nothing to do with Ben or the babies because they are also the children of the evil Daniel Vik. Grandfather Ched-Jubil is the head of the Church, and he also serves on the Council of Irfan. He is the primary proponent of the lawsuit and he persuaded Grandmother Adept Pyori.”
Kendi started to speak, then shot a glance at Dallay and Ched-Muskin and shut his mouth. The legal team probably wouldn’t sanction what he wanted to do next, so he kept it to himself.
“What’s the next step, then?” Ben asked.
“The first is for me to ask an official question,” Dallay said. “Do you wish to accede to the Church’s demand that you relinquish custody of your unborn children and the embryos?”
“No!” said everyone in the room at once.
“In anticipation of your answer,” Ched-Muskin said, “we have begun preparing a defense. This includes readying each of you to enter the witness cage and testify. The hearings begin in four days, so the sooner we begin, the better.”
Kendi strode through the wide corridors of the Marissa Rid Building, which housed the main administrative offices for high-level Children of Irfan. In his days as an Initiate and a Brother, he had secretly found the place intimidating, with its perfectly-polished floors, stone sculptures, and oil paintings of wise-looking Grandparent Adepts. After the Despair, however, he had spent a great deal of time here and the building had lost its awe factor. The place also had a shabby air these days. The floors hadn’t been waxed in quite some time and several statues were missing, perhaps sold. The windows showed grime.
Kendi strode through a set of double doors, past the Sister who tried to bar his way, and straight into the office of Grandmother Adept Pyori. Grandmother Adept
looked
like a grandmother—white-haired, wrinkled, and slightly plump. She closed watery blue eyes as Kendi slammed the doors behind him. He didn’t make the traditional fingertips-to-forehead salute.
“I was wondering when you would come,” Pyori said.
“What’s going on, Grandmother?” Kendi growled. “I want to hear it from you. No lawyers, no judges. Just you.”
“Liza,” Pyori said, addressing her computer, “are any recording devices present in this room?”
“There are none,” the computer replied.
“You’ll pardon if I don’t take your word for it,” Kendi said. “I’ve been burned by this before.” He took a scanner from the pocket of his tunic, checked for himself, and nodded. “This monastery owes me
everything
, Pyori. Every. Goddammed. Thing. Why are you doing this?”
Pyori got up and went to the window, which showed only gray rain. It struck Kendi as a prosaic gesture. Everyone, it seemed, stared out a window when they had to talk about something difficult.
“Ched-Jubil’s arguments are well-reasoned,” she began, “but they—”
“They’re bullshit,” Kendi interrupted. “The Church didn’t care one shred about those babies until they turned out to be—”
“If you want me to explain, you need to be silent,” Pyori snapped back. Kendi ground his teeth and obeyed. “As I was saying, Ched-Jubil’s arguments did not convince me entirely, though they convinced half the Council. The other Councilors believe Ched-Jubil is motivated by self-interest and greed.”
“Leaving yours the tie-breaking vote,” Kendi said softly. “So what do
you
believe?”
Pyori continued to stare out the window, refusing to meet his gaze. “We’re bankrupt, Kendi. Our few working Silent can’t keep us solvent anymore. Next week we have to announce we’re terminating all our remaining lay employees and that we can no longer pay stipends to the Children. We’ve gained a lot of new Initiates now that the younglings are entering the Dream, but they won’t be ready for communication work for a few years yet. We’re broke.”
“The government won’t bail you out?” Kendi said, shocked to the core. “What about a loan? The Children have been the center of Bellerophon’s commerce since the founding.”
“We’ve asked,” Pyori said. “Mitchell Foxglove opposes the idea, and he’s talked a lot of Senators into agreeing with him. They’ve stalled the legislation for so long, it won’t do us any good. Bellerophon has its mines and tree-farms now.”
Kendi stared. It didn’t seem possible. The Children had always been wealthy, able to scatter a fleet of slipships across the galaxy and pay outrageous prices to set Silent slaves free. Kendi had spent their money like water. Now Pyori was telling him the well had run dry.
Other issues, however, took precedence. “I hope you aren’t looking for sympathy from me,” he said. “Right now I’m waffling between loathing and disgust. What would Irfan say about this?”
Pyori’s body shuddered at his words, as if they were physical blows. “I don’t want to hurt you and Ben,” she said. “But...if the Church or the monastery had custody of Irfan’s true children, we could attract the interest of off-planet investors, something we can’t do in our current position. The media attention can also be milked for cash. I know it sounds cold-hearted. Perhaps it is. But it will save thousands and thousands of families from homelessness and hunger.”
“At the price of destroying mine,” Kendi spat.
Pyori said nothing. Kendi turned and left.
His Eminence Judge Nutan Prakash called the court to order and everyone sat. The audience portion of the courtroom was nearly empty—Prakash had barred the feeds. Kendi, Ben, Harenn, and Lucia sat with Ched-Muskin and Nick Dallay at the defendant’s table. Ched-Jubil crouched alone behind the plaintiff’s. Kendi’s heart pounded and his hands were slick with sweat. On a table in front of the bench sat the star-shaped cryo-unit, lights winking with machine-like serenity.
“I’d like to remind counsel that this is a hearing, not a trial,” Prakash said. “I don’t want grandstanding or powerful oratory. I know the basic facts of the case, so you don’t need to explain them to me. Let’s keep it straightforward and simple. Grandfather Ched-Jubil, I understand you are representing the Church?”
“I am, Eminence,” Ched-Jubil said. He was big, even for a Ched-Balaar, and possessed a silky-looking, night-black coat of fur.
“Then state your case.”
Ched-Jubil rose. Kendi flicked a glance at him, then stared carefully forward. If he looked at Ched-Jubil for any length of time, he got so angry he felt he would erupt like a boiling geyser.
“Your Eminence,” Ched-Jubil clattered, “the Church of Irfan is rightly and legally awarded custody of any orphaned children on Bellerophon.”
Kendi snuck a startled glance at Ched-Jubil. He had actually used the word
children
. Of course, it would have been hard to argue this case using circumlocution. Ched-Jubil went on to explain the Church’s arguments as Dallay had outlined them to Kendi and Ben three days ago. Beside Kendi, Ben sat still as a statue. Harenn and Lucia shifted now and again, trying to find comfortable positions in their chairs. Would the children they carried come home to him and Ben? Or would they end up wards of the Church? If that happened, who would be their parents? Who would take care of them and play with them and love them? Kendi swallowed to keep his throat from closing.
Prakash’s face remained impassive during Ched-Jubil’s speech, and Kendi would have given his Silence to know what the judge was thinking. At last Ched-Jubil finished, and Prakash motioned at Dallay.
“Counselor,” Prakash said. “It’s your turn.”
“Your Eminence,” Dallay began, “although the defense respects Ched-Jubil’s careful arguments, we maintain they are without merit. We move for a dismissal.”
“Denied,” Prakash intoned, as Dallay had said he would. “Continue, Counselor.”
“Eminence, the babies Ms. Mashib and Ms. dePaolo carry can hardly be called property. Slavery has never been legal on Bellerophon. This means they must be classified as children. You can see with your own eyes that they have mothers, and later we will produce documents that prove Mr. Rymar and Father Kendi are their fathers of record. Mr. Rymar is also related to the children. He is their brother, and there are hundreds of legal precedences granting custody of children to relatives other than parents.
“My colleague has also argued that the embryos are stolen property. Ched-Jubil is obviously trying to preserve the log and eat the grubs inside. Either the embryos are children or they are property. However, I will answer his arguments. If the embryos are children, they should go to their nearest living relative—Mr. Rymar. If the embryos are property, they clearly qualify as a case of
laches
. Legal precedence clearly states that valueless property which is lost or stolen, and then somehow increases in value cannot be held up as valuable to the original owner just because the new owner has found value for it.
“In other words, Eminence, the embryos had no intrinsic value to the Children of Irfan for a long time. Grandfather Melthine made no secret of this fact. Just because Mr. Rymar and Father Kendi discovered the embryos’ value after Mr. Rymar removed them from Grandfather Melthine’s home doesn’t mean the law can treat them as if they had
always
been valuable and desirable. Because the Children of Irfan and the Church didn’t bother to try to get the embryos back before they were discovered to be Irfan’s issue, they relinquished all right to them. They can’t claim to have a right to them now.”
Dallay paused meaningfully. “The case is clear, your Eminence. Once again, I must move for dismissal.”
“Denied,” Prakash said, and Kendi let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. It had been a slim hope, but a hope nonetheless. “Ched-Jubil, call your first witness.”
The hearing continued. Ched-Jubil called up legal experts, medical experts, Church officials, and members of the Council of Irfan. Dallay cross-examined. Sometimes he managed to discredit them, sometimes not. Prakash stayed true to his word and cut several of the longer-winded witnesses off. By the end of the business day, Ched-Jubil had not presented his closing arguments and Prakash declared a recess until the morning.
The moment Kendi, Ben, Harenn, and Lucia got home, a small crowd descended upon them. Keith, Martina, Bedj-ka, and Salman all talked at once, demanding to know how it went. Gretchen and Tan watched in the background.
“The transcripts aren’t available yet,” Salman said over the noise, “and we haven’t heard a thing.”