Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [27]
“Good. My job is easier. I only have to create doubt, whereas the prosecution must prove guilt.”
“That doesn’t sound simple.”
“Don’t worry about that. Just let me do my job. Now, I need you to tell me about every conversation you can remember with Chancellor Tarn, and, after that, I need to hear about your mission to change the beacons.”
That’s a lot of talking, and before I’m halfway done relating everything I can recall about Tarn and his various orders, a buzzer goes off.
The barrister stands. “Our time’s up. I’ll be back to hear the rest, and then we’ll talk again once I lay the foundation for your defense.”
“How long before my trial?”
“Ordinarily, it could take months, even turns, but they need to process you quickly. They’re rioting outside already . . . It will be madness if it’s permitted to escalate.”
“Rioting?” I pause on my way out. “Why?”
“Some want the death penalty. Others want you freed. It’s a polarizing case.”
“Can you win?”
“If anyone can,” she answers without false modesty. “See you soon, Ms. Jax.”
[Handwritten message, delivered by the guard]
Jax,
I didn’t know whether you’ll get this, but they said they would let you read low-tech correspondence. I’m a little out of practice with this kind of thing, so bear with me. I’m not sure if I’ve ever written a letter before. Everything’s via vid or voice to text, you know?
I think about you all the time. Watch the nightly bounce for news, along with everyone else. Dina and Hit have been mixing it up with the protestors, and I’m worried they’ll get themselves arrested. They’re hoping to get put in the same cell block as you. So far, nobody’s pressed charges, much to their dismay.
Vel came up with a plan to break you out, just to see if he could. I hear they have you in solitary, and they aren’t permitting visitors, especially not me. But then, we knew that going in. They have a record of the way I stole you from Farwan on Perlas, and the Conglomerate seems to think I might try a similar maneuver here on New Terra. I would, too, if I thought you wanted that. It’s just as well they won’t let me in because seeing you like that would be more than I could take. I’d have to get you out of there or die trying.
But you made your choice, and I respect that, even if I don’t understand it. I can love you without always getting how your mind works. At one point, I would’ve said I knew you better than anyone, but even you—when I’ve been inside so deep I couldn’t tell where you stopped and I began—retain secret depths and hidden spaces. I suspect I’d adore that mystery if I didn’t wind up coldcocked by it so often.
I can’t take sitting here, Jax. Doing nothing. I’m drinking too much, and I don’t sleep. While I worry about you, I also can’t stop thinking about my nephew, whether he’s safe, healthy, or happy. He might be in good hands in that state home, but he needs to know he has other options. Family. I’ve weighed this, wrestled with it. And I can’t think what else to do.
So I’m going to Nicu Tertius to look for him. Before the war ended, I promised myself I’d do whatever it took to save him. I won’t fail him like I failed my sister; I’ll be there for him.
I’ll write when I can with my comm code, so you can bounce me when you get out, as I know you will. They won’t be stupid enough to hurt you; they just need to put on a show for the grieving families. I’m sorry I’m not there with you, but they won’t let me be. I would be, if I could . . . You know that. But I can’t sit and do nothing for however long your trial takes, and this child needs me.
It kills me that I don’t even know his name.
Love you always
March.
[Handwritten reply, sent via Nola Hale]
March,
I’m not good at writing about how I feel, but I guess we have no choice. On the other hand, maybe it’s easier this way. I can talk to this paper because it won’t judge me. Not that you do.
Oh, Mary, I love you. And I’m so sorry for everything.
The guard’s staring, as if I might stab myself in the neck with this writing