| one has told me what the charges are. No one has offered me counsel. I’ve been held incommunicado, and I don’t know why.” Lines of incredulity wrinkled her forehead. “That’s not how it happens.” “And yet, here we are.” I fought to smother my rising frustration. “Thank you for coming to see me.” “This isn’t how you book legal counsel.” My fists clenched. “I know.” “They’re supposed to assign you counsel after your arrest.” “I’ll be sure to take it up with the people who didn’t arrest me,” I assured her. “Can we move on?” “Why didn’t they assign you counsel?” It was very difficult not to shout at her. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask ‘them’, whoever ‘they’ are.” “That’s not how it’s supposed to—” “WAKE UP!” Ackerman jumped, and I said, “It’s a conspiracy. I’m being shafted. I don’t have counsel, I wasn’t assigned counsel, and if you make me tell you one more time—” I fought for self-control, and she stared at me, her face pale. When I was sure I could keep my voice level I said, “I’m sorry. Can you tell me what I’ve been charged with?” Her head tilted and she stared into empty air, reading from her implants. “Reckless endanger… That’s odd.” “What is?” “It was reckless endangerment before. Now it’s cowardice.” My stomach tightened. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she went on. “I mean, the two are basically opposites, right? You did too much, or you didn’t do enough.” “I’m being |
the third morning out from Amethyst I asked Johnson for a hard boiled egg and toast. He couldn’t seem to fry an egg properly to save his life, but I thought boiling might be within his abilities. He plopped a plate in front of me with a couple of slices of burnt toast and an egg, still hot to the touch. I wrinkled my nose at the toast, then lifted my knife and sliced the egg in two. Raw egg pooled on my plate. A bit of the egg white closest to the shell was partially cooked, but the rest was a soggy mess. I was staring at it in dismay when I heard a snicker behind me. I glanced back to see Craigie slouching past on the way to his bunk. Harcourt sat beside me, trying to hide a smirk. I looked at his breakfast. He had a bowl of oatmeal dotted with raisins. When Johnson served me oatmeal, it was plain. Furthermore, Harcourt’s oatmeal wasn’t the familiar congealed brick. His oatmeal looked moist and delicious. Properly cooked, in other words. I thought back to my first breakfast on the ship. I had written it off as a fluke, but the truth seemed suddenly obvious. Johnson knew how to cook. He was ruining my food deliberately. A wave of fury washed over me, and I gripped the edge of the counter, fighting for self-control. My muscles strained until I feared I would tear the counter top from its moorings |
