Chapter 1 

Aria Dawson

There’s a certain smell that only courtrooms on Glimner have. It's not just the recycled air or the plastisteel furnishings that have absorbed decades of sweat and synthetics. No, it's the scent of burning ozone—courtesy of the ambient field disruptors built into the walls. They’re supposed to neutralize aggressive impulses, like we’re all a bunch of ticking time bombs. I’ve always found the irony amusing; no one walks into this room intending peace.Especially not me.My boots click against the marble composite as I walk into Courtroom Six, eyes scanning the familiar semicircle of high-backed chairs arranged like some pseudo-ancient tribunal. Goldwin justice loves its drama. High ceilings. Hover-cams disguised as crystal sculptures. The enormous digital justice seal spinning slowly above the magistrate's bench like it’s going to hypnotize someone into compliance.It doesn’t work on Aebon Rexx.He’s already seated, legs crossed, all seven-foot-one of him draped in a crimson three-piece suit that probably costs more than my department’s annual evidence-processing budget. The jacket fits too well. The bone spurs protruding from his forearms are filed flat, gleaming like ivory against black skin. His white hair is pulled into a knot, pristine and coiled like a predator's tail. When his red eyes meet mine, the heat in my chest spikes, and I curse myself for the reaction.“Assistant Prosecutor Dawson,” the magistrate drones.I nod once. “Your Honor.”Aebon flashes me a smile. That damn smile. Crooked, lazy, and full of secrets. He lifts one claw-tipped finger in a mock salute. “You’re looking particularly militant today, Aria.”I don’t take the bait. I never do. “Let’s proceed.”The prosecution’s case begins, not with fireworks but with dull routine. Holo-footage. Transaction records. Testimony excerpts. All airtight. All scrubbed and verified. I’ve got him this time. I can feel it. The defense attorney—some smug off-worlder with a voice like melted plastic—barely pretends to engage. That should be my first clue.An hour in, the first witness is called. A Zenthari courier with cybernetic implants and a twitchy left eye. He testified to delivering bribe funds to a Nar’Vosk front. On record. Now, under oath, he suddenly doesn’t remember a thing.I freeze. The entire room stills.“Mr. Kaleg,” I say carefully, “you gave a full deposition to our investigators two weeks ago.”He shrugs. “Don’t recall.”“And the retinal footage we have of you entering the compound?”“Could be anyone. You know how glitchy those things are.”The defense attorney yawns audibly.I want to scream. I want to break this goddamn desk in half. But instead, I stand straighter, voice calm. “Your Honor, the prosecution requests a continuance to review new developments.”The magistrate barely looks up. “Request denied. Insufficient grounds.”Of course.It takes exactly forty-two minutes for the rest of the case to collapse like a paper house in acid rain. Three more witnesses either vanish or recant. A key data log goes mysteriously missing—despite being in a secured system. The judge, a former private sector arbitrator with Centauri connections, dismisses the charges with a single tap of his gavel.“Court is adjourned.”And just like that, Aebon Rexx walks free. Again.I storm into the corridor, fingers clenched, jaw locked tight enough to hurt. The corridor buzzes with media drones and onlookers. I push past them until I reach the stairwell. I need air. I need space. I need to not scream.Of course, he finds me.“Going somewhere, Counselor?”I whirl. He’s leaning in the doorway, hands in his pockets, head tilted. The predator relaxed. But I see it—his eyes are alert. Watching. Calculating.“Do you get off on this?” I snap.He blinks, feigning innocence. “What, the thrill of due process?”“You know what I mean.”He walks toward me slowly, deliberate. “You’re angry. That’s good. I like you with fire.”I want to punch him. I also want to grab him by that stupid perfect tie and—no. No.“You tampered with witnesses.”“I didn’t touch them,” he says, voice velvet. “Though I might’ve suggested they re-evaluate their priorities.”“You threatened them.”“I offered alternatives.”“Spare me the euphemisms.”He leans in. His voice drops. “You know what your problem is, Aria? You think justice is clean. It’s not. It’s compromise, coercion, leverage. You came here with facts. I came with results.”I don’t back away. I should. But I don’t.“One day,” I whisper, “you’ll slip.”He smiles wider. “Then I hope it’s into your arms.”And just like that, he’s gone. Swaggering down the hall like he owns the system—and maybe he does.I stay in the stairwell long after the cameras disperse. The smell of ozone still clings to my coat. The taste of failure thickens at the back of my throat. But I don’t cry.I just watch the place where he stood. And I plan.He may have won today. But I’ll bury him. One day soon.Even if it kills me.