“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.

Let it be March.

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.

CHAPTER 12

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.”

Thank Mary.

“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.

“I’m so glad to hear that. And Dina’s all right?”

“They are happy to be together.”

Shortly thereafter, the doctor comes with my release documentation, and I’m permitted to dress in the fresh street clothes Vel brought with him, as the suit I wore in the courtroom has a big singed hole in the chest. I can tell that the medical staff will be glad to see the back of me; they all wear identical expressions of muted tension and dislike, whether for what I did in grimspace or for the mess I made of their hospital, I can’t say for sure.

“Where to now?” I ask, after I’ve been discharged and am ready to go.

“I have been asked to convey you to a ceremony formally relieving you of rank in the Conglomerate Armada.”

Smart. That way, any mess I get into from this point on, they’ve officially cut ties with me. I understand it, even as I feel a little betrayed by it. I wonder now what happened to Jacob Kernak, if he was murdered in his bed or if he ate his gun after turns of living with the memory. But either way, I just know his story doesn’t have a happy ending. For the moment, I decide not to ask Vel to look it up.

“Am I getting a DD?” Dishonorable discharge.

“Since you were cleared of all criminal charges levied, you will receive all regard for your rank and thanks for service rendered.”

I nod. “I’m ready to go if you are.”

“This way, Jax. I cleared a path out the back. The front is rather a mess.”

That’s an understatement, I suspect. Before the press and the protestors realize I’ve left, Vel spirits me away through service tunnels, out to a waiting vehicle. Wearing dark glasses and a hat over my distinctive hair, I feel like a vid actress who specializes in dirty scripts. Some people love you; some hate you; but everyone knows who you are. It’s way less delightful than the fame hounds imagine.

The hovercar lifts us out of the madding crowd, hurtling toward the hall at the government center, where the armada can wash its hands of me. Vel rests a claw on my hand, silently telling me he knows how bad it is, and he’s still here. Some of the tension drains out of me. For me, a normal life won’t be possible for quite a while, if it ever is, but there are still people who care.

At the government center, we take the back hallways again because the front of the building is jammed with people. More signs. More screaming. It’s not quite as crowded as it was at jurisprudence, mostly because people are already starting to forget. Scandal has a short life span, and only those who were personally injured remember past the next shocking event.

Inside, I spot Hit and Dina, who both stand to salute me. Mary, I thought I was beyond any emotional reaction, but that chokes me up. Fighting tears, I follow Vel up to the front of the chamber, where Chancellor Tarn waits. Really, as my superior officer, March should conduct the ceremony, but he’s on indefinite leave.

Tarn greets me with an uncertain expression and a two- handed handshake. “I want you to know I understand what this cost you . . . and I will be forever grateful. We wouldn’t have won this without you.”

But he couldn’t come out and say so, against popular opinion. He had to hedge his bets and work with the prosecution because people always need a scapegoat when things go wrong. In that, the Conglomerate is not so different from Farwan after all—and for that reason, I’ll never work for them again. From this day forth, I am a private citizen, and I will do as I think best.

“I understand your position,” I say coolly. Though he may be a fairly honest politician, he’s still a politician, and I am done with them.

“We’re ready to begin.” He can likely tell I want to get this over with.

The ceremony is quick; it involves long-winded thanks and the playing of music. I don’t really pay attention until Tarn speaks the words I have been waiting for:

“From this day forward, First Lieutenant Sirantha Jax, you are relieved of duty and obligation to the Conglomerate. Thank you for your service.”

More salutes, more music. I let it wash over me, and it’s like freedom, only heavier. Dina and Hit push through the crowd to my side, and they both hug me. As always, the blond mechanic smells of flowers, a minor tweak to her apocrine glands, as I recall. Hit is smiling, though I glimpse residual guilt in her eyes. She knew what I was planning to do before we left, but I let the tribunal think I didn’t tell her. No need for her to get the negative press, too.

“I should’ve been right there with you,” she says then. “In prison and on trial.”

I shake my head. “It would’ve been worse for me, knowing I’d pulled you into my mess.”

“Our mess. I didn’t make my choice blind.”

But she acknowledges I had the right to make the call. I was her superior officer, after all, and maybe the Armada would disagree, but I feel like I need to shield my people whenever I can; the blame stops with me. Listen to me—my people. Thank Mary, I don’t have subordinates anymore. I’m just Jax, whatever that means.

Dina says, “You should get over to the training facility. I know Argus could use your help . . . It’s slow going with him working alone.”

I’m not eager, but it’s my responsibility—one more step toward the time when I can keep my promises, first to myself about Baby-Z, the Mareq newborn I failed to protect, then to Loras, whose homeworld has been occupied for as long as anyone can remember. Maybe that’s not my fight, but I will make it so, the last thing I do, before I take off for the great unknown. I keep a mental checklist in my head, and once I’ve satisfied all those obligations, then I’m adrift from my moorings—free to explore the universe and chart new beacons. I dream of that like some people do of finding the perfect lover. I hoped March would be my partner in that adventure, but now I’m not sure. He will likely come to the end of his quest with obligations, and I can’t search for him before I clean up my mess.