Free Academy 7 by Anne Osterlund Page B

conscience.
    “We should get on with this,” said Xioxang.
    “We can’t. Livinski wants to handle it.”
    “That was before she started fielding angry calls from parents.”
    The words sliced through Aerin’s brain. Angry calls. Everyone knew then: the parents, the teachers, the members of the Council.
    “I have better things to do with my time than wait. It doesn’t take an expert to question someone,” Xioxang growled.
    A glacial female voice cut through the complaint. “Perhaps your expertise would be better employed upstairs seeing that I am not disturbed.” The command shattered the dialogue.
    “Yes, Dr. Livinski.”
    “Oh, and Mr. Xioxang, no more calls . . . from anyone.”
    At the sound of fading footsteps, Aerin allowed a thin stream of air to exhale from her lungs. At least the hawk with his probing stare would not be present for her interrogation.
    Then light slammed into the room. Her chest lurched as she clamped her eyelids shut and pressed her back against the wall. Clicking skidded over her eardrums. “The bulb must be out,” came the smooth voice. “Come here, Miss Renning.”
    Aerin cracked her protective lids wide enough to make out the rigid figure in the doorway. The square-cut jacket, straight skirt, and tight bun left no room for leniency. Lips pressed together with a hint of disgust around the edges. For the first time, Aerin understood the power behind this woman. As a Council member, Dr. Livinski could condemn an entire nation with an accusation. It would cost her nothing to condemn one person.
    “I assume you know why you are here,” said the principal.
    Aerin worked her jaw without sound. A single word might serve as her own betrayal. Fool, she chided herself. They know already. Still, she could not bring her tongue to attempt a defense for her illegal presence at the school.
    “Come. Here.” The principal spoke each word slowly, then raised an eyebrow. “Unless you prefer to remain in the dark.”
    Somehow Aerin pried her body away from the back wall. Numb legs staggered, and she stumbled forward. Long fingers gripped her by the elbow and, to Aerin’s surprise, led her not only out of the room but straight into the tech lab.
    The buzz of the computers, once a comfort, now hissed around her with sharp discord. She flinched at the sight of Zaniels looming beside his personal computer, arms crossed over his bulky chest. Anger marred the typically kind face.
    But the dark expression moved past her as his gaze focused on the nearby machine. “Someone broke into the academy files last night,” he said, “from this computer.”
    The grip on Aerin’s elbow loosened. “You wouldn’t have any idea how such a feat might be accomplished?” asked the principal.
    Aerin felt her mouth drop open. Was this why she was here? Because they thought she had compromised school security? If this was all—
    Then the hopeless insanity of the situation struck her. If she admitted to knowing how to bypass security, there was nothing to keep them from thinking she had broken into the lab, and if she denied it, there was nothing to convince them she was telling the truth.
    Unless she could prove someone else had hacked into the machine. “I might . . .” she tried to speak. “I might be able to track the culprit.”
    Zaniels glanced at the principal.
    The look was unclear, but Dr. Livinski gave a slow nod, then made a sharp gesture toward an empty chair. “By all means,” she said.
    Aerin sat down, nerves firing along the short hairs up and down her arms. She might trace the hacker, but then again, she might not. If he or she had equal skill, there would be no trace to define the culprit and perhaps not even a path to unravel.
    Her fingers moved slowly over the keyboard, paused half a second, then circumvented the password. The back of her mind screamed out that she had just given them proof of her own ability to break in.
    But the risk was calculated. She had no hope without taking it, and