Free The Guild Conspiracy by Brooke Johnson

legalities of Guild contracts, are they not?” She glared at the vice-­chancellor, daring him to contradict her.
    â€œShe’s right,” said another man. “Her consent is required. We cannot commission a project without the designing engineer’s explicit approval, student or otherwise. Should you choose to build the machine without such approval, you will be in violation of her rights as an engineer, as defined in the Guild bylaws. If Miss Wade wishes to withdraw the project, she may do so, and not one of us can do anything to stop her.”
    Petra glanced at Julian. There was at least one person in the room who could choose to punish her for withdrawing the project, but she prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
    She faced Lyndon again. “There is an alternative.”
    â€œAnd what is that?” asked Mr. Pelletier.
    â€œLet me work on the project. Induct me into the Guild. If—­”
    â€œAbsolutely not! If there is one thing we can all agree on, it is that you do not belong in the Guild.” He shook his head and turned to the other council members. “Surely there is a way we might subvert the contract bylaws. Miss Wade may study here, but she is not a proper student. She is not, and never will be, equal to the engineers in our employ. She is a woman, and therefore the bylaws should not apply. The very idea that—­”
    â€œI am just as good an engineer as any of the other students,” she said, her voice rising. “My designs prove that, and if I were a man, you wouldn’t hesitate to accept my application. I may be a woman, but I am also an engineer, and I deserve the same consideration you would give any man.”
    â€œIt is not only your sex—­or even your skill—­that is in question,” said another man, “but your loyalties. You have been previously accused of anti-­imperialist associations and were once party to the destruction of Guild property. Given such history, we cannot afford to risk—­”
    â€œThose accusations were proved false,” said Lyndon, cutting across the arguing council members with his deep, gravelly voice. “Miss Wade is guilty of no crime here. Let that be a reminder to you all.”
    â€œA matter of opinion,” countered the other councilor. “Not all of us were party to the evidence proving Miss Wade’s innocence, Vice-­Chancellor, and I, for one, find it highly negligent for the Guild to give her access to such a sensitive project in this delicate time—­whether she designed it or not.”
    There was a murmur of agreement from many of the other council members, their arguments against her only growing more and more heated as both Lyndon and a few of the elder members came to her defense. They were nearly shouting over one another now.
    Her attempt to negotiate was crumbling around her ears.
    â€œI have a suggestion.”
    The voice came not from behind the council bench but beside it. Petra turned toward the soldiers standing at the edge of the council chambers. Officer Cartwright stood firmly in front of the rest of the men, his hands clasped neatly behind his back and his eyes on Vice-­Chancellor Lyndon.
    The council continued to argue despite his interruption.
    Lyndon gave up on trying to defend her and sank into his leather chair with his knuckles pressed to his brow. Julian’s glower only grew darker with each passing second, and Petra tried not to flinch.
    She swallowed against the tightness in her throat and glanced at Officer Cartwright again, who was now discussing something with his superior, the broad-­shouldered man with the thick mustache. After a moment of quiet discussion, the elder officer nodded and gestured toward the council bench. Officer Cartwright stepped forward, his red uniform distinctive in the harsh overhead light. When the council finally noticed him, their arguments disintegrated into silence.
    Vice-­Chancellor