Aftermath (12 page)

What they don’t know is, no matter how they decide, they can’t penalize me more than I’m already punishing myself.

 

Jax,

 

I got your note. Nola scanned and bounced it to me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your handwriting before. It’s an oddly personal thing, isn’t it? I keep your letter folded up in my shirt pocket, close to my heart. That sounds ridiculous, but I read it at night before I go to bed.

What you said about the sweetest pain? That fits us. I guess you already knew this, but I’ve never been in love before. That’s why I’m clumsy, and I don’t always know what I should do or say. I hate thinking of you there, but at least I know you’re safe. I miss you. Love you, too. The ache never stops.

It’s taking forever to reach Nicu Tertius. There are no jumpers willing to risk the beacons, and I wouldn’t want them to. Which means we’re doing a haul through straight space. People haven’t traveled like this in a hundred turns—and I understand why. Remember how tough Emry was from New Terra?

This is actually worse. The crew is angry all the time and spoiling for a fight. If they served under anybody but Hon, they would’ve already mutinied. But his reputation deters all serious rebellion, as he doesn’t deal kindly with traitors. It’s going to be six more months before we get there, and the constant refueling is expensive. I don’t know how our ancestors ever got out of the home solar system at this speed.

We get only old news on the bounce, but I’m watching as much of your trial as I can. I’m proud of how you’re bearing up; though every time that prosecutor opens his mouth, I want to stab him in the neck. Yet you sit there, taking every hit, then your barrister does her thing. She’s good. Drawn blood more than once. I’m glad she’s fighting for you since I can’t. And that bothers me, too. I feel like I’m failing you.

I thought it was bad when we were on the same ship but we couldn’t touch. Thought it was bad when I was on Lachion, fighting in the clan wars, but I was constantly moving then, constantly fighting. Here on the
Dauntless
, this is the worst separation because I have nothing to do but think. I’m always replaying moments with you, wondering if there was another path I could’ve taken that would end with us together.

I hate being without you. My arms are empty, and I miss your laugh. The way you throw back your head, and your hair flips out, bristles, because it’s electric, like you are. I’m not putting this well at all, so I should probably stop talking to the machine and just say send.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“We have, Your Honor.”

This is it. Nola Hale doesn’t glance my way or give me any reassurance; she’s convinced we’ve already won. I wish I shared her confidence. But for the last three weeks, I’ve been alone at night, wondering if it’s like Latimer said, and I just wanted the glory for myself. I’m buffer than I’ve ever been, arms tight, six-pack abs. Prison will do that to you because there’s not a lot else to do, especially when you’re in max-solitary for your own protection.

“We find Sirantha Jax not guilty by virtue of Conglomerate v. Kernak.”

Yeah, I killed to save lives.
Not even intentionally, as Kernak did, so there’s now another legal precedent. Maybe someday, someone else will find herself in a mess and get out of it because of Conglomerate v. Jax. Somehow the idea doesn’t give me much comfort.

“So recorded,” the bot says.

And that’s all. I feel the sense of anticlimax now. I can walk right out of here into the face of screaming enemies and fangirls, paparazzi who want to take my picture and hope I’ll be the old defiant Jax, but she’s gone forever. Some fissures go deeper than superficial scars, all the way down to my soul.

“Thank you,” I say to Nola Hale. “A lesser barrister would’ve gotten me life in prison instead of an execution.”

“I play to win. Are you ready to face them?”

“Almost. Will you tell me who hired you now?”

“It was Velith Il-Nok,” she says, as if I ought to have known.

That’s true, as March can’t get involved with my defense for obvious reasons. His personal and/or professional involvement would only give the prosecution cause to call for a mistrial. I can see the vids now, whispering of corruption at the highest levels of government and how the Conglomerate is, at base, no different from Farwan at all. They’d lose all the progress they’ve made.

“You did a splendid job.”

“It’s the star in my crown to date. So thank
you
. I’ll be able to write my own ticket henceforth.” She glances toward the doors; I’ve only come through the prisoners’ entrance before. “We should face them before you lose your nerve.”

Yeah, she does understand. I steel myself as we move toward the exit. Beyond the doors, I hear screaming and catcalls, but once they open, the scene facing us surpasses my wildest fancies. People clog the corridor until it’s impossible to move. They’re red-faced and outraged; others are drunk. One man carries a sign that reads SHOW US YOUR TITS, LOVE, like that’s the only part of my past that matters. But even he’s better than the furious woman in black who is howling, “Kill the bitch!” Audible even over the other shouts.

Kill the bitch.
The words echo in my head, in my ears, even after the shots ring out. The crowd tries to scatter, but they’re packed too tight, and people trample one another. Nola Hale pulls me back against the doors. Everything seems too slow and too bright as pain blossoms through me.

I’m hit.
I don’t know how bad it is, but from the white- hot burn, I guess it must’ve been a laser pistol. They deploy a Peacemaker unit along with ten guards to clear the hallway so that medical personnel can reach me. Everything goes black and spotty, then the world falls sideways.

Hours later, I wake in a private clinic. There’s a bandage directly over my heart, and at first, I don’t understand the placement. That’s a kill shot. By rights, I ought to be dead, unless I was wearing body armor when I took the hit. And I wasn’t; I was in my street clothes.
So what the hell?

“You’re a lucky woman, Ms. Jax.”

The prosecution called me that so much that I tense at hearing it, and I don’t relax until the doctor moves into my field of vision. With silver hair and a lined face, he’s an older gentleman who has clearly forgone use of Rejuvenex completely. He has a slight hunch to his back, as if he spends long hours reading test results or studying specimens.

“In what way?”

“That assassination attempt would’ve killed anyone else. But your nanites kept you alive long enough for us to perform a heart transplant. Fascinating technology, though I can’t imagine implanting them before they’d gone through turns of testing.”

“I used an alternate medical program.” Remembering Doc and Evie gives me a painful twinge, deeper than the ache in my chest.

“You’ll have a scar,” he tells me, “but it should be thin and minimal.”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“That’s my job.” From his expression, he’s not thrilled about having me in his hospital, so things must still be messy out there.

“Is it bad outside?”

“Constant marine presence keeps the violent protestors away,” he answers, “but your sojourn here has not been enjoyable for the staff.”

“I imagine not.”

“I’ll send in your first visitor.” The doctor heads out, and I hear the murmur of voices in the hallway, but I can’t tell the gender of the other.

It isn’t. Nola Hale steps through my door. Then I remember he’s off looking for his nephew on a slow ship to Nicuan, no telling how long that will take. I curl my hands into fists and repeat in my head how much I don’t mind. After all, I’m a grown woman, not a helpless child, and I’ve never leaned. I don’t need someone at my bedside, but I’m glad to see the barrister nonetheless.

“I’m glad you plan to live,” she says. “I’d be annoyed at winning for you, only to have the story end like that.”

I have to laugh. “Yeah, my dying would really wreck things for you. It’s not a good anecdote for prospective clients.”

She grins at me. “Exactly.”

“I’m glad you came by. I’d like to hire you.”

Nola raises a brow. “For what? I don’t do civil suits.”

Frag.
If the bereaved family members sue me, I won’t fight. I’ll settle with them, even if it takes all my mother’s money. I’ve been poor before; I know the drill. After Simon—my ex-husband—cleared out my savings, I lived on clan kindness.

“I met a girl inside.” I explain the situation. “I think her case might be almost as unwinnable as mine, but I want you to try for her. I’ll foot the bill . . . If you have a handheld on you, I’ll make the transfer now, before I lose everything.”

She considers for a moment in silence. “Fine, I’ll do it. The high-profile stuff is good for keeping my name on the nightly bounce.”

“You get more clients that way, I guess?”

“Absolutely.” She hands me her unit, and I input the codes.

“How much?”

The price she names makes me a little woozy—or maybe that’s the pain meds—but I know from personal experience, she’s worth it. So I request the transfer, while still marveling at all the zeroes.

“At any rate, I just came by to make sure you’re going to live. Pandora’s case is a bonus prize. I’ll enjoy convincing the jury the son of a bitch deserved to die.”

“From what she said, he did. But I expect you’ll dig into the particulars before you go talk to her.” I hand the device back.

This is the best I can do for Pandora. I hope Nola gets her a happy ending. For me, this is more of a respite between disasters. From this point on, I must watch for angry people with guns, as they won’t be content with the verdict. They won’t be satisfied until I stop breathing, if the nanites will even let me.

Nola glances up from her handheld. “I’ve already put my team on it. I have to get going, as I have work to do. Good luck, Jax.” Her manner isn’t as formal, now that we’re no longer client and barrister. In other circumstances we might’ve been friends. But now she’s just a woman in an expensive suit, waving as she goes.

Hospitals are boring. It’s even more so when your visitors are screened within an inch of their lives. Lots of people come to the waiting area, but few are permitted through the doors, mostly because the searches and scans reveal weapons on their persons. I catch snippets of the chaos outside my isle of quiet, and I start to dread the day when they release me, and I have to face it all for myself.

Right now, they’re watching me to make sure the new heart doesn’t cause me any problems. Since it was speed- cloned from my old one—an expensive procedure—while a mechanical one pumped my blood, there shouldn’t be any problems, but given my notoriety, they aren’t taking any chances. If I die under their care, there’s a chance people will assume they did it on purpose. In fact, I worry about the food I’m served for exactly that reason, but the nurse takes care to test it in front of me for foreign contaminants. Though I’ve survived some tragic events, this is certainly the darkest time of my life . . . and I feel more alone than I ever have. Kai’s loss was painful, but it wasn’t my fault. I have to live with knowing I caused this.

And if I’m alone, it’s because I deserve to be.

A few days later, the doctors let Vel in. Relief streams
through me at sight of a familiar face. He sits down at my bedside with a worried flare of his mandible.

“This is becoming far too familiar,” he tells me.

I manage a smile. “I’ll try to cut back.”

“They intend to release you today.”

“How’s Hit? None of this blew back on her, did it?”

“No. Since she only piloted the skiff, in the initial hearing, she was judged not liable for the deaths that resulted from your shifting the beacons.” Then my deal with March held.