Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [18]
“Will there be a trial?” Hit asks.
“Certainly. Commander March has instructions to deliver Jax to New Terra, so formal hearings can begin.”
“Do they realize they need me to train the jumpers on the new beacons?” At least that means they shouldn’t execute me on the spot. In fact, I have to deliver myself for criminal proceedings to begin, if I want to move forward in teaching the rest of the navigators how to interpret what I did to the beacons.
“Chancellor Tarn made it clear you are not to be harmed,” Vel says.
I fall quiet then, weighing what kind of greeting I’ll receive from March. Those thoughts carry me through the atmosphere and out into the stars; they expand endlessly around us. Docking procedure doesn’t take long, and Vel leads us back down the corridor toward the hatch. The Ithtorian skiff is small enough to fit inside the Dauntless, though it’s larger than a shuttle, and I emerge in the cargo area.
It’s cold in here in contrast to the tropical climate of Venice Minor. The Ithtorians form up around Hit and me like a squadron of guards. They don’t know me at all if they think I’ll run. Not from something I did. While it might be a nightmare of a choice and have left me in the worst mess of my life, I did what I thought best. Too bad I survived it. Dead women get monuments; live ones get trials.
But I couldn’t choose the easy road when that would’ve meant even more collateral damage. March taught me the importance of doing the right thing, even when it lands me neck deep in hot water. Sometimes I miss the old me.
Inside the ship, a number of Lachion crewmen have assembled. As one, they salute me. They don’t blame me for what I did; but then, the clansmen have long defied authority and marched to their own drummer, so they understand better than anyone else in the galaxy. Others will find my decision inexplicable and inexcusable. Good soldiers follow orders; they don’t make their own judgments.
Frag it. I guess it’s obvious I’m not a good soldier.
Argus steps forward to clasp my shoulder with comforting warmth. I’m happier to see him than I expected . . . mostly because he can carry on for me, if the worst comes to pass. In fact, maybe I can train him on the way to New Terra. He can start teaching the others while I’m incarcerated, assuming they’re willing to trust my protégé, the only jumper from outside a Farwan academy since before the Axis Wars.
Under watchful Ithtorian eyes, Argus gives me a quick hug. “Lachion’s behind you, all the way.”
The guard behind me nudges me forward, past the well- wishers, and toward what used to be my cabin. Long after we turn the corner, I can still hear them cheering me on. I must seem like the ultimate authority in self-determination, but that’s not always a good thing. I wanted to save lives—and I did—but there were consequences, too. The prosecution will talk about how with prior notification and coordination, these losses could’ve been avoided entirely. But I didn’t plan this in advance, and the clock was ticking. At the time, it felt like my only option. Overall, I’m just glad they’re not leading me away in shackles.
At the first intersection, Hit says, “I’ll see you soon, Jax.”
I wave as she goes; I know she’s eager to see Dina and hold her in her arms. For me, such reunions have to wait on March’s discretion and desire. He may not want to see me right now, as I did the one thing I’d promised him not to—go over his head and disrespect his command. Added to that will be his sense of devastation and abandonment—I grasp the gravity of my actions and what they may cost me.
They escort me to my room, and I go inside, weary to the bone. There’s a tray waiting since these quarters lack a kitchen-mate. Apparently I won’t be permitted to visit the dining hall, understandable under the circumstances. They can’t take the chance that I intend to break out, steal a ship, and run. Let’s face it—it wouldn’t be the first time. But on this occasion, March is my captor, not my liberator.
Vel comes in with me, but his