Nobody stirs as he resumes his seat. Nola Hale touches me reassuringly on the shoulder, no doubt intended to convey to the jury that I am no monster—that the horrible things Latimer just said about me have the power to cut me to the bone. She steps away from the table and strides toward the jury; her gaze touches on each member.
“I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ms. Jax acted in the interests of the Conglomerate, and indeed, had she not undertaken this course, we would all be food for the Morgut. Furthermore, I will also establish that Chancellor Tarn gave her executive authority.”
She leans forward, adopting a confidential posture. “He used her as a tool in a gray-op situation, and when the political blowback became too intense, he disavowed her. What happened to those Conglomerate soldiers was tragic, but if Ms. Jax had not acted, we would, at this moment, be fighting a war on six fronts against an unstoppable dreadnaught army.”
The mention of dreadnaughts sends a ripple of fear through the room; they must’ve seen footage from the battle above Venice Minor. Remembering the losses from that day, pain spikes through me. Doc and Evie—somehow I manage to pull myself back from the brink. Counsel expects me to stay alert.
Nola continues, “I would like you to consider, for a moment, the fate of New Terra if the Morgut ships had completed their jumps. In times of war, extreme sacrifices must be made. Each and every soldier volunteered for combat, knowing it might mean his or her life. They died as heroes, and you belittle their valor by questioning the necessity of their deaths. Sirantha Jax had just lost her mother when she took that small craft out into the great unknown. She asked no help. She was prepared to give her life, every bit as fully as those who perished for your freedoms.” The barrister paces, making eye contact with the jurors and taking their measure.
Nola Hale is, quite simply, spectacular in her chosen venue. Her gestures are perfect, impassioned restraint; she’s taken classes in body language. She continues, “When I first heard of the charges against my client, I was astonished that any honorable government could seek to prosecute its own heroes. If the Conglomerate succeeds in their attempt to scapegoat Ms. Jax for the loss of those ships, then they are no better than Farwan Corporation.”
Oh, well played. Bring the bogeyman right into the room. Even I can see the revulsion in their expressions. They don’t want to think they’ve exchanged one corrupt master for another. If she succeeds in forging a link between what the Conglomerate is trying to do now and what the Corp did to me after the crash of the Sargasso, then I have a shot at walking out of here a free woman. I’m afraid to hope; I don’t even know if I should be exonerated.
“Over the course of the next few weeks, the prosecution will attempt to blacken Ms. Jax’s name. Mr. Latimer will paint her actions in the darkest possible light, but I want you to remember as you listen that this woman was prepared to die for each and every one of you, so that you might live in peace. Thank you.”
Judge Wentworth inclines his head, clearly wanting to get this over with. “If both defense and prosecution are prepared, let us begin.”
CHAPTER 10
The trial has been going on for thirteen days. We’ve heard from character witnesses and people I don’t even remember meeting. Tarn himself has been subpoenaed and is scheduled to appear in the witness box. I show none of my nerves as the opposing counsel gets to his feet. I’ve been grilled for the last two hours, and my testimony may be the one thing Nola can’t defend.
Today, the prosecution ends with a punch to the face. “Were you, at any time, ordered to make the jump that ultimately destroyed interstellar travel as we know it?”
“No, but—”
“That’s all,” Latimer says.
“Witness is yours to cross-examine,” the judge tells my barrister.
Ms. Hale rises gracefully. “Sirantha, did Chancellor Tarn speak with you about the significance of your mission?”
“Yes, he did.” I’ve been coached to answer only the questions as she asks them and to let her build the momentum.
“And what did he say, to the best of your recollection?”
“He said, ‘Your mission is of the utmost importance. If you fail, all is lost.’ ”
There are no more questions, so I return to the defense table. More people take the stand; some have good things to say about me. Others are not so complimentary. Through it all, I try to wear the expression she prescribed—sympathetic and remorseful. It doesn’t take much; I will always be sorry for the loss of those six hundred soldiers. If I could go back and fix it, I would . . . but I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. The Morgut have been permanently weakened, and I can’t think that’s a bad thing, after what I’ve seen.
Finally, they call Chancellor Tarn himself. His testimony might bury me. He enters the courtroom with six armed guards, and they escort him to the witness box. The bot makes him promise to tell the truth, and his guards step to the side.
Latimer starts the process. “How well do you know Sirantha Jax?”
“We have enjoyed a working relationship since just after the fall of Farwan Corporation.”
“And what is your impression of her?”
“Objection,” my barrister says. “Impressions are opinion, nothing more.”
“Withdrawn. Let me rephrase: As substantiated by her record, does Ms. Jax have a reputation for thoughtful, careful behavior?”
“No, she does not.”
“Then what made you ask her to become the ambassador to Ithiss-Tor?”
I see regret in Tarn’s eyes. He knows his answers will hurt me. “Expedience. She had formed a close friendship with Velith Il-Nok, and he would not work with anyone else. I felt the mission stood a low enough chance of success without him that any other option would prove utterly ruinous to our efforts to forge an alliance.”
“Did you have confidence in Ms. Jax’s abilities to make logical decisions and restrain her temper?”
“No, I did not.”
“But you lacked any viable alternative at that time?”
“Correct. Catrin Jocasta was still mourning her mother’s death, and none of the other trained diplomats could’ve coped without a native guide to Ithtorian culture and politics.”
Latimer turns to the jury then. “That’s how Ms. Jax lucked into her cushy assignment on Ithiss-Tor. Connections. She had only basic diplomatic training, that which any jumper gets in the academy to help her handle first contact, and it had been turns since she’d practiced any of those techniques. From there, she was promoted in the Armada, based on her sexual relationship with Commander March.”
Ms. Hale calls, “Objection! My client’s scores in the combat jumper training program are part of the court record. She took first or second in all trials, and no other jumper possessed her combination of real-world skills. Point in fact, she earned that rank. They had severed their sexual relationship by the time he became her commanding officer.”
Wentworth levels a cold look on the prosecutor. “Sustained. Please cleave to the facts, Mr. Prosecutor. I will not have a smear campaign in my courtroom.”
“My apologies, Your Honor.” By Latimer’s expression, that little slap on the wrist doesn’t matter because he’s about to bring out the big guns. “At any time, Chancellor Tarn, did you give First Lieutenant Jax authority to make such an enormous decision, either tacitly or by express statement?”
I see regret in Tarn’s eyes, just before he says, “No, I did not.”
“Your witness, Ms. Hale.”
She doesn’t look worried as she approaches. “You said earlier that you enjoyed a professional relationship with Ms. Jax, is that correct?”
“It is.”
“Would you say you are intimately familiar with the way her mind works?”
Tarn looks uneasy, as if he suspects my barrister of hiding barracuda teeth behind her friendly smile. He’s not wrong about that. “I’m not sure I would use the word ‘intimate.’”
“Then you can’t be sure what meaning Ms. Jax may have extrapolated from your instructions?”
“I suppose not.”
“Therefore, if you’re admitting reasonable doubt about what significance she took from your communications, then you must also concede reasonable doubt about her execution of said instructions.”
“Yes,” Tarn admits, wearing a look of relief.
I guess he didn’t want to see me spaced. Part of me thinks I deserve to be. I have a lot of blood on my hands, so much that I don’t know if I’ll ever feel clean. It doesn’t matter what I intended, only what I did. I remind myself of the lives I saved, but they’re intangible. There’s no roster anywhere of People Jax Saved, unlike the list of the dead on those lost ships.
“And did you, at any point, tell her, ‘If we fail here, all is lost’?”
“Yes. Those are my words. About—”
“Can you say with complete certainty that she didn’t have those words in mind when she acted to defend Venice Minor?”
Tarn shakes his head. “I cannot.”
“That’s all.”
“The witness may step down.”
His six guards come to escort him from the room. Vid- cams whir, trying to get a shot of the departing chancellor’s expression. People will be speculating about his opinion of the cross-examination, but I already know he’s glad she cast some doubt on his denial. He likes me well enough; he thinks I served to the best of my ability—and the sad part is . . . I did.
I drift during the prosecution’s closing arguments. According to Latimer, I’m the worst butcher who ever jumped; small children ought to run in fear of my shadow. It’s odd to hear myself painted this way. I used to be the party girl everyone loved to hate, and now my reputation’s even worse. I don’t kid myself—even if I walk out of here, I won’t be free. This will follow me.
Then it’s my barrister’s turn to try to make the jury look somewhat less judgmental. The older woman on the end looks like she’d happily space me herself.
Ms. Hale turns to the judge. “Your Honor, in closing, I wish to call on precedent. In the case of Conglomerate v. Kernak, it has been found that an agent of the government, acting on behalf of said government, can be judged an autonomous authority in certain extreme situations. As with Jacob Kernak, I present that Sirantha Jax found herself in a circumstance where there was no alternative and as an agent for her government, she took action to minimize the loss of life.”
“Objection. Ms. Jax—”
The judge interrupts, “I will allow mention of the precedent in the trial records. But make a convincing connection, Ms. Hale, or the reference will be stricken.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
She turns to the jury; the remote drone-cam zooms over to capture her every expression. So strange to think people are watching this all over the galaxy—laughing, jeering, and taking bets on my chances. I hear there’s a fairly sizable pool among the well-to-do . . . Of course, they’re wagering on whether I get executed.