Read Incineration (The Incubation Trilogy Book 2) for Free Online

weights the syllable with significance. “So. Let me see if I’ve got this right. If the implantation failed, then Everly Jax was not carrying a government zygote when she left the RESCO the night of May second.”
    “That is correct.”
    “She could not, therefore, be guilty of theft of said zygote, as the prosecutor assumed —I mean alleges.”
    “I would say not.”
    Vestor looks around triumphantly, all but throwing up his arms to milk the room for applause.  He sends me a hint of a wink. I want to give him the ovation he deserves, but I settle for trying to look humble and vindicated. The gallery erupts in astonished exclamations and babblings that bounce off the marble and metal, loud and distorted.
    Judge Tysseling bangs his gavel three times to restore order, looking grim. “Order!  Quiet! The original charges as outlined by the prosecution remain. Jurors will disregard the witness’s last statement and draw their own conclusions from the evidence . Court is recessed for the day. We will resume tomorrow at nine hundred hours.”
     
    It’s late afternoon and the mugginess wraps around me like a wet blanket when Vestor and I emerge from the cool justice building.  The crowd is larger than earlier, and surly, calling me names, and accusing me of filthy crimes. I cringe, but Vestor keeps me moving forward. A cordon of IPF soldiers holds the crowd at bay. How can so many people have so little to do that they can spend the day at the courthouse being ugly to someone they’ve never met? Zestina Pye is interviewing members of the mob, getting their take on the day’s testimony, I assume. As I watch, she flits in the direction of Prosecutor Babbage who has appeared at the top of the steps.  The sight of Zestina makes me wonder what’s already been broadcast about me, what these people have heard that motivates them to yell, “You need to die!” and “Traitor!”
    I expect Vestor to escort me back to the prison, but he doesn’t. He walks me to the curb where the armored ACV is waiting, and hands me off to the guards.
    “Details to attend to, my dear,” Vestor says in response to my obviously dismayed expression. “I’ll see you here tomorrow morning. I’ll be calling a witness I think you’ll recognize.”
    He hushes me and looks mysterious when I try to find out who. “Enjoy what I’m sure will be your last night in your present accommodations.”
    “I believe in you,” I whisper.
    He beams. “Of course you do!”
    The ACV pulls away and I’m on my way back to prison.
     
    The first thing I do when I’m back in my cell is pick up the albatross drawing. I grasp it in both hands, hesitate, then rip it in half. I tear it in half again, and continue shredding it until a small pile of confetti lies at my feet. There. I have torn Saben—our friendship—out of me. If I get the chance to do to him what I did to the drawing, I will. I am limp, exhausted.  All that standing at the trial, I tell myself. Kicking at the shredded paper so it flies around the cell, I collapse onto the bed.
     

Chapter Five
    The courtroom is packed the next morning, despite a drizzly gray day I thought might keep people home. There’s an indefinable feeling of menace in the gallery crowd and I swallow hard as my polyglass capsule rises. I tell myself I don’t want to see Saben—the traitor—but I look for him anyway and feel a pang when I don’t spot him. Annoyed at my weakness, I chew my lower lip.  Prosecutor Babbage is at her place and the bailiff is positioned to announce Judge Tysseling before Vestor makes his entrance, buttoning his robe as he comes down the aisle. He doesn’t look at me and my skin prickles with unease. With his usual air of affability, he greets Prosecutor Babbage and gestures for the bailiff to proceed. Once the judge is installed at his bench, Vestor proclaims, “I call Oliver Fonner.”
    Proctor Fonner! Why in the world—?
    The Supervising Proctor of InKubator 9 enters from the waiting