Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [41]
“I need their names,” I tell Vel. “Could you please pull up a list?”
“Are you sure that is wise, Sirantha?”
“No, but it’s necessary.”
He complies then. And soon, I’m staring at the long, long roster of people who died because of me. This will be my bedtime reading for turns to come. Hit and Dina exchange a look, like I can’t interpret their silent concern, but neither of them argues with me, a fact for which I’m grateful.
“Thanks for standing by me,” I say to both of them.
Hit nods. “Thanks for protecting me.”
Really, it could’ve gone much worse for me if I’d had a less talented barrister. I hope Nola can do as much for Pandora. Speaking of which . . .
“Vel, I don’t know where you found Nola, but—”
“Chancellor Tarn recommended her,” he interrupts. “And he transferred the funds from his own accounts for me to cover her fees.”
Huh. So the Conglomerate prosecuted me, but Tarn paid to get me acquitted. I like him a little better right now. It’s not the credits; I could have afforded to pay for my own defense, but this makes me feel less like they used me and cut me loose when I became inconvenient. I understand why he couldn’t take a public stance supporting my actions, but deep down, he’s an honest man. He knows I did what I had to, no matter how ugly it looks on the outside.
I fall quiet, pensive, watching the buildings blur into lines of color as we travel away from the city center. Ocklind is a beautiful city, temperate weather, semitropical beaches. If I hadn’t acted as I did, New Terra might, even now, be swarming with Morgut. I see scenes superimposed from Emry Station. So much blood. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help because these images are memories.
Vel touches my arm lightly, grounding me, and by the time we land, I have it under control again. The Morgut won’t be landing here. Between the standing Armada, the Ithtorian fleet, and the fact that there’s a shipyard producing more vessels as we speak on Nicu Tertius, the Conglomerate will never let itself be caught off guard again. We will defend our territories to the death . . . and our enemies will have to parlay with us to learn the new secrets of grimspace.
The new training facility is a building comprised of a series of interlocking domes, visually interesting, but I wonder if it’s tough to navigate. The bot puts us down outside, where there are no crowds at all. I don’t delude myself that I will never see the media again, but they haven’t anticipated my movements to this point. It makes for a welcome break from all the shouting.
“Comm if you need us,” Dina says.
Right. There’s no reason for everyone to come inside; there’s no work for them to do here. Lifting a hand in farewell, I go into the complex and am impressed when they test me for contaminants at the entryway. This is nothing like the Farwan academy where I studied; it has a more ominous feel. But since they converted a former asylum in short order to establish this training program—which is more apropos than they realize—it’s not surprising. Once they determine I carry nothing that will harm the students within, the doors unlock, and I am permitted my first glimpse of the complex.
Halls lead out from the main hub in six different directions. Luckily, there’s also a map on the wall, identifying who has offices in the building. I find Argus’s name near the center. He’s been appointed as director, despite his relative lack of experience, by virtue of his crash-course training before I turned myself in. I hope he’s glad to see me.
I navigate the corridors alone, trying not to attract attention. A couple of the students give me a second look, then shake their heads, as if to say, Nah, couldn’t be. I’m grateful for the rare anonymity as long as it lasts.
Argus answers my knock, wearing a harried look, and an expression of profound relief dawns on his young face. Despite my dark mood, I can’t help but smile. He looks like he’s in over his head.
“Oh, thank Mary they didn’t kill