When Nika arrived at the Corkscrew for her first tutorial with Professor Fossett since her court appearance, she was confronted with a gaggle of reporters, cameras, and TV crews clustered around the front entrance. She felt a shudder of horror as media reporters jostled her, thrusting their microphones at her and gabbling in her face. 

"How do you feel about being charged with possessing illegal drugs, and what effect will it have on your job at ELU?" one of the reporters asked.

She looked at the reporter and frowned. "I have absolutely nothing to say. Please let me pass."

She hurried into the building, smiled at the security bot that barred the media scrum from following her, and took the elevator up to Fossett's office. Alone in the lift, she recoiled at the memory of the hubbub of voices, cameras, and reporters milling around her. What the hell's going on? Is this another of Yuke's slimy tricks?

Sitting in Fossett's office, she drank tea and told him about Jack Hemmings's triumph in court, her acquittal, and how the media mob was now hounding her. 

Fossett's cheeks were unshaven and he looked gaunt and raddled. "I hate to say this, Nika, but the Department's getting battered by all this unwanted publicity. I've been told to look for someone to take your place, in case you lose the next round. Yuke Corrigan has petitioned to have you suspended from ELU for sexual harassment, pending your second hearing at the Triumvirate."

She felt her indignation rising. She finished the tea with one quick gulp, and slipped her cup and saucer among the landfill of flotsam scattered over Fossett's desk. "They couldn't prove I did anything improper last time. What makes them think another hearing will make any difference?"

Chastened by her mood, he nodded. "I completely agree with you, Nika. I'm just the bearer of bad news, that's all. If it were up to me I'd dismiss the claim and we could all go back to our lives."

She felt the blood supply drain from her head. All this time working at a satisfying job and now I'm being torpedoed by an arrogant rich douche.

"Okay, Professor, you can tell the head of the Science Faculty I'm bringing my solicitor to the next hearing--if there is one--and you can tell Yuke Corrigan he's an obnoxious prick."

Fossett's always-shaggy, gray hair looked shaggier, his leather-pocketed jacket shabbier, and his whole demeanor slouchier than before. Yet his eyes, behind their glasses, retained a slightly roguish gleam.

"You've got plenty of intestinal fortitude, Nika. I admire you for that."

She smiled at his puckish manner. "I don't want to give up my job without a fight, that's all."

He slurped from his cup. "You know, Old Man Corrigan's skating on thin ice right now. He's gambling that investors take a shine to the Photon Detector like a diamond among the dogs."

She laughed mirthlessly. "Ha! The PD could turn out to be the biggest dog of all. If they roll it out too soon, it'll bomb. We haven't done nearly enough research to validate it."

"Corrigan's backers won't know that--unless someone spills the beans to the media." He drank the last of his tea, toyed with the empty cup, and gave her a crafty look. "That someone wouldn't be you, would it, Nika?"

He started to giggle, and she raised her eyebrows conspiratorially.

"A tempting thought... But no, I don't want to dish up more dirt for the media. I want to hit back at the system that lets people like Corrigan get away with this crap."

Sipping a glass of Chilean mead, she propped her head on her favorite cushion and stretched her legs over the Afghan rug. Her ajna was throbbing with a call, and she wanted to feel relaxed when she answered it. 

"Hello, Jack," she said, knowing it was Hemmings.

"Nika, I've just received a copy of a complaint Yuke Corrigan has filed with the civil court. He's suing you for punitive sexual harassment. We'll countersue of course, using the tactics we discussed. 

She noticed a strained tone in his usual, confident voice. "Be honest with me, Jack. What are his chances of winning?"

"Better than good, now that the media have branded you a drug runner."

The muscles of her face tightened. "How can they do that, Jack? We won the court case, didn't we?"

Hemmings's voice was as flat as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. "The media don't care. They love a scandal and they've found out you're the tutor of a student who's accused you of sexual harassment."

She felt as though a ball of something heavy and extremely unpleasant had been dumped in her stomach. "So why has Yuke filed this complaint with the court?"

"He's taking civil action because of the tortuously slow procedure of workplace tribunals, like the one at your uni. A lawsuit is quicker and deadlier. He could have you bankrupt for the rest of your life."

She let a minute pass while she stared at her hands clasped around the glass.

"Are you still there, Nika?"

"I'm here. What's the meat of his lawsuit?"

"Yuke claims you used your position of authority as his tutor to seduce him and coerce him to perform various sexual acts that have left him traumatized and in need of psychiatric treatment."

"Dear God. And the media are going to love this, aren't they?"

Her world was crashing down around her.

"Yuke is also seeking damages against the ELU Physics Department for the action of one of its employees on his health, plus his academic and career prospects. He's hitting them up for sixty million."

"Even though his daddy owns the place?"

"Daddy's behind the whole thing, Nika. Guess he really wants you off the team."

His words reverberated like a gunshot. She imagined him standing at one of his long windows, his face rigid.

"Will Yuke's mental health issues prevent him from taking his finals?" she asked, knowing how pathetic and ridiculous the question was.

"According to the complaint, your sexual harassment has caused him to suffer depression, extreme social withdrawal, sleep loss, and eating difficulties--"

"Sweet Jesus."

"--Incidentally, he claims he was coerced into performing oral sex, and I'm sure there'll be an eminent shrink or two to testify to the effect on his eating habits." She thought she heard a faint click from Hemmings's teeth.

"Yuke is currently undergoing deep therapy and male rape counseling," he added, "and he'll want to recover the cost of all his treatments, plus punitive damages."

She let out a sigh. "If it wasn't so vindictive I'd be laughing."

"It's no joke, Nika. Yuke's counsel is going to portray you as a sly, persistent sexual predator who carefully maintained an outwardly respectable image, behind which you subjected your victim to a series of sexual outrages."

"Now why would I do that?" She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"According to the complaint, your motives were to obtain sexual gratification from humiliating someone in a subordinate position, plus a scheming woman's ego boost from dominating an impressionable and vulnerable young man."

At the mention of Yuke as impressionable and vulnerable, she groaned.  

"That's as much as I can take for one evening, Jack. My mind's reeling from all the BS." She frowned. "Yuke's dad doesn't just want me fired, he wants me ruined, financially and careerwise."

"I'll be here at the office tomorrow, Nika. Call me and we'll discuss your defense." His voice sounded hollow outside her wall of anger and frustration.

And your fees, as you clearly don't expect to win this case. "All right. Good night, Jack."

Tuning out her ajna, she drained her glass and shuffled into the barkwood bathroom. She had plenty of grime to wash away. That Yuke was claiming he had been raped by her was beyond absurd. She was the one being violated. Of her career, her money, and her good name. It was bullying by the Corrigans, pure and simple. The bosses stomping on the faces of the workers and the ruling classes winning through intimidation.

She drenched her body under the shower, barely aware of the hot flood drumming her flattened curls, lost in her dark thoughts. She clapped once, stopping the flood, and a gust of warm air caressed her. The heat tingling her skin was invigorating. After wrapping herself in a toweling robe, she padded into the kitchen.

Robo stood at the counter making her dinner.  A bottle of red wine rested beside him as one of his grasping claws stirred a pan of noodles. Another claw was slicing bok choy. She took a wine glass from the cupboard.

"What kind of day did you have, Ducky?" his voice rattled out. He began shaking a wok full of sizzling stir fry.

She reached for the bottle of red wine. "Absolutely shitty, if you want to know. But I've made a decision, Robo Dear."

"Here, let me." One of his claws seized the bottle and she held out her glass. "What might that be?"

"Tomorrow I'm joining the revolution. Cheers!"