Page 82 of Irene

Sherv looked at Irene, and her breath stopped. Whether he knew it or not, there was nothing hidden about his feelings. “We speak the same language…not English or Kalquorian, but the language of art and music and passion for creativity. We can’t breathe unless we’re doing what we were born to. We’re shadows of ourselves when you take music from us. Only my clan is more important to me than expressing my art. Take Irene from me, and I’m no one. I’m nothing.”

“The same goes for me.” Tears streaked down Irene’s cheeks as she smiled at Sherv.

He turned his gaze to Clan Elak. “What do you understand of passion so great, you’d die if you lost it? Maybe your bodies would continue, but your souls would wither to nothing without this wonderful obsession that fills you to bursting. Have you experienced such passion? Have you ever been so driven to express, you can’t sleep or eat until you do so? I know it. Jemi knows it. Rusp knows it. And Irene knows it. We live it every second of our existence.”

“We’d certainly support her continuing her singing career—” Elak began.

Sherv’s bark of laughter silenced him. “Support her? You could cheer her, true, or finance her efforts, but you can’t feed her soul. You can’t listen to what she’s saying or singing and feel it as your own speech and voice. You can’t stand on stage next to her while she’s soaring and join her in that…look at you! Your faces tell me you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.” Sherv looked at everyone in the room. “Irene, Jemi, Rusp, and I are a clan of four people, but we’re of one mind, one heart, one voice. One song. No legal decision can change it.”

Irene stared at him, wondering at how he’d put her very feelings into words. It was as if she stood naked before him, as if her flesh had been stripped away, leaving her true self bared to him.

Adnam wasn’t so moved. “Love falters when starstruck sweethearts are stuck living in a basic housing complex, where they have to dodge thieves and other nefarious sorts. Or on a repurposed ship, which your clan calls home, where your money constantly goes to repairs so you can reach your next show on the worst of space stations or outposts. Your last performances were on Rexadux Station, certainly not a safe place for a Matara. Absolutely no place for a child.”

“Honorable Adnam, they were hiding from an aggressive destroyer captain—” Nivere began.

“I’ve been given Clan Sherv’s tour schedule for the last two years. They’ve played in better places, yes, but they’ve also been where no woman or child belongs, where they’ve been stolen from, cheated out of wages, and generally lost more money than they made because of bad actors.”

Nivere’s com beeped. Adnam skewered her with a glare, but she quickly checked the frequency and hushed it with a click.

The judge’s disapproving attention returned to Sherv. “You want to keep this lovely woman as a clanmate, but given what you’ve said, I don’t believe you’re willing to put in the hard work of reality. It’s past time you stopped living in a fantasy, young Dramok.”

“What of when fantasy becomes reality?” Nivere nodded to a court officer, who stood at the door. “I have someone here who can address these issues, Honorable Adnam. Let him in, please.”

The court officer triggered the door. Irene gaped as a man she’d never expected to see stepped in and looked around in confusion at the five clans, judge, and multitude of lawyers. She turned her stunned gaze to Sherv, who appeared ready to fall under the table in relief.

Chapter Nineteen

Irene fought a wave of lightheadedness as Nivere waved to the arrival. “This is Dramok Parlek, the empire’s biggest all-time music manager. His clients include Clan Sherv’s rimnastin band, Casual Innuendo. Dramok Parlek, would you tell the judge the recent good news you received for Clan Sherv?”

“Gladly.” Parlek bowed to Adnam. “Honorable sir, I’ve just come from a meeting with Dramok Gelspi. If you’re unaware, he’s the head of the empire’s biggest recording company, and he can’t wait to produce Casual Innuendo’s music.”

Irene and Jemi gasped. They grabbed Sherv’s arms and clung to him. Sitting on the opposite side of Jemi, Rusp gaped.

Parlek grinned at them, beaming ear to ear. “The company’s entire executive board is crazy about the rimnastin sound you developed. Better still, the focus groups are too.”

“Will you explain to the judge what this means in terms of financial support?” Nivere prompted.

“It means as soon as we sign the contract, Clan Sherv, which includes their Matara Irene, will receive a hefty advance.” He named an amount that made no sense on Irene’s translation readout, as it was in Kalquorian figures. However, several members of the parent clans exclaimed. Judge Adnam blinked. Clan Elak exchanged glances, their expressions unhappy.

“Is it a lot?” Irene asked Sherv, who apparently hadn’t received this part of the news ahead of time. He was staring at Parlek, his jaw dropped comically.

“It’s enough to buy a nice inland home and cover a year’s living expenses.” Parlek chuckled.

“It isn’t guaranteed income over their lifetimes,” the judge pointed out.

“Nothing in life is guaranteed.” Irene met his gaze. “Clan Elak, through no fault of their own, could experience business downturns. I’m sure it happens here on Kalquor as it does on Earth. My own life plans seemed pretty rock solid a few weeks ago. I had a career I loved, parents I couldn’t imagine leaving—” her voice caught, but she soldiered on. “I met Clan Sherv, and everything changed in an instant. Mostly for the better.”

She took Sherv’s hand. He smiled at her, as did Jemi and Rusp.

“Please look at them, Honorable Adnam,” Nivere broke in quietly. “It’s obvious what they mean to each other. Breaking them up would be a travesty of justice.”

Irene nodded and met Adnam’s gaze again. “I want exactly what I have…a singing career with a clan I can’t leave. Clan Sherv is my clan, whether Kalquor likes it or not. I’ll never accept Clan Elak as clanmates, no matter their supposed stability, no matter what they offer. Never.”

Adnam stared at her. She thought he was seeing her for the first time, as Irene Jonson instead of a poor, backwards Earther needing rescue. His finger tapped a restless beat on the table for a few seconds.

In the end, he didn’t look pleased, but he nodded at Clan Sherv. “I’ll give you a year to show this is a valid clan situation. We’ll revisit this case then, and I’ll render my final decision for the good of mother and child.” He glanced at the silent Clan Elak. “If it’s too long for you to wait, I suggest you apply for any available Earther refugees. Otherwise, you may resubmit your petition for Matara Irene when we reconvene in a year.”

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