Dinner With Family, Hiroyuki Morioka [heaven official's blessing novel english .txt] 📗

“That right? Well, take a good look, because I’m about to lose face for you. I did try learning it for real. I didn’t actually just dip a toe. I mean, who wants to be a second-class citizen?”

“‘Second-class citizen’? What’s that?”

“They don’t teach kids in Abh school? In the UH, there’s ‘star system citizens’ and ‘UH citizens.’”

“Oh, that I know,” nodded Jint. The starpilots of the Star Forces were briefed on the enemy’s political systems. In a world where even information could only be transported through planar space, it was difficult to contact people outside one’s star system. In vast nations like the Abh Empire and the United Humankind, a simple letter exchange could often take months. Consequently, residents of the same superstate but of different star systems seldom felt a sense of unity. The average person could only feel a genuine sense of solidarity with the other residents of their own system. And for a superstate like the UH, the impossibility of promoting a sense of belonging to the interstellar power ruling over them was a problem.

The Abh had no desire or political will whatsoever to conquer this “problem” on their end. In fact, they didn’t consider it a problem to begin with. The Empire didn’t want or expect the residents of its landworlds (i.e., landworld citizens) to be conscious of their status as imperial subjects, let alone feel any affection or loyalty toward their rarefied rulers.

The UH, on the other hand, pushed its constituent star systems to see themselves as members of the interstellar union. In order to foster a sense of unity, they advocated for interpersonal exchange, and sought to homogenize the planets’ respective cultures (starting with the language). Yet the reality was far from that ideal. The UH had incorporated formerly independent systems, and the attempts at homogenization were insufficient. Furthermore, even though travel to other star systems was encouraged, ordinary people could only manage interstellar travel once in a lifetime, if that, thanks to cost and time restraints. As such, even in the UH, the vast majority of people couldn’t regard the politics of the superstate as their concern. That was why the UH restricted citizen’s qualifications to participate in politics. Only “UH citizens” were granted the right to vote and run for office, among various other privileges. Star system citizens could only participate in star system politics.

Given all that, it made sense that Durin viewed star system citizens as second-class citizens. Jint didn’t know the exact requirements for becoming a UH citizen, but speaking Ricparl had to be a minimum requirement.

“For argument’s sake, let’s assume I didn’t put in enough effort.”

“Right,” Jint concurred ardently.

“Even if I did put in the effort, and learned Baronh, what would I get out of it? The credentials to work for you? Compared to the perks of being a UH citizen, that’s a hard sell.”

“I mean, you get to work for me, yeah. But also, don’t you want to see the world outside Delktu at least once in your life?”

“Sure, a little. But I think there’s a bunch of places of interest in Delktu I haven’t seen yet.”

“Que Durin... You really don’t feel like working alongside me, huh.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to work alongside you. The only problem is the workplace. If you stay here, on Delktu, I’ll work with you any day of the week. Actually, I’m thinking the time is ripe to strike it out on my own soon. I plan to leave my uncle’s company before long. And I’d be ecstatic if you could be my business associate.”

“Hold your horses, my friend. I don’t even know what you’re doing, or what you’re planning to do once you’re on your own.”

“I could say the same. ‘Servant vassal’ is so vague; I’d have no idea what I’m doing.”

“It’s the same as running a company. I think I can secure the engineers. All you’d need to do for me is bring together the people who handle the deskwork and operations.”

“Then it really is the same work either way.” Then, a devilish curl of the lips. “The only difference is who’s on top. But I don’t mean to place myself above you, necessarily. I’d just have you learn the ropes under me on a temporary basis. Or you can just be my equal partner on paper. Oh, and there is one other difference: how much work it’d take to get up to speed. For a dumb-ass outsider, you do know a little about Delktu, whereas in my case, I’m the wisest man in the land, but I don’t know the first thing about the Abh world. Learning the ropes for me would take about as much work as adding the salt to all the seas.”

Though reluctantly, Jint nodded. After all, Jint himself had next to no experience with any of this administrative stuff. He had a vague understanding, but had no inkling of the finer points of magistrates’ work. That was the reason he was on the hunt for people who had technical know-how, if not experience.

“Besides, I haven’t got any intention of working in the Abh world,” said Durin.

“Then why didn’t you tell me that from the jump?” said Jint, raising an eyebrow.

“I hadn’t martialed my thoughts yet. But now I have.”

“You could’ve dropped me a line after you’d decided.”

“But I really did want to see ya, man. If I’d turned you down before, you wouldn’t have come, right?”

“Not at all. Work is work. I told you I wanted to see you just to hang out, too, didn’t I?”

“Damn. And here I was pleased with myself, thinking I’d sent you on a fool’s errand.”

“Poor baby.”

“In any case, if we’re gonna be building a lovebirds’ life together, you’ve gotta come here.”

“A lovebirds’ life with you is not on my mind,” said Jint.

“I figured,” said Durin, nodding lightly. “A man’s gotta be proud of his work. All right, enough talk of work. Let’s call the boys over.”

“Sure thing, but first, let me hear why you don’t want to become