Dedication (The Medicean Stars Saga Book 1) by McCullough Crawford

neighbors, some even wandering a few displays away to greet friends. The wave sweeps past Jon, leaving him in its swirling wake. Not having a predetermined escape route, he hesitates in abandoning his own posters for the relative safety of criticizing others’. It only takes a few seconds for those around him to seize on his lapse and pounce.
    They swoop down on him like a pack of hungry carrion birds, each prepared with a list of questions designed to require a thesis in their own right to answer. Jon finds himself swept under answering questions that are not as much about his research, but more about how smart the person asking the question is. His note cards lie forgotten behind him as the onslaught continues.
    He cannot tell how long he has been fielding the questions that he feels far too underqualified to be answering. Each comes from a potential grant committee member or a future research advisor, unrelentingly demanding to know some highly specific or theoretical application of the research and expecting him to know the answer before they’ve even made it halfway through the question. In a small respite, he is able to reshuffle the flyers he has been handing out and rescue the note cards he had been studying what seems like a lifetime ago. After a brief review he places them underneath the table once more with his bag and stares longingly at the snack he brought for later. Standing up again, this time stiffened from the high intensity questioning, he wonders where his advisor has disappeared to. It is very unlike her to leave him unattended for this long at a conference. Normally, she at least checks in every few minutes to make sure everything is going smoothly.
    Looking around, he sees her slipping through the crowd. Her blouse and hair are no longer as neat and freshly presentable as they had been upon arrival, and her makeup has been smudged as if she has just been running. Jon mentally scolds himself for his thoughts earlier. Of course she has a life outside of work. Who is he to think that she needs his help to meet people? Her appearance indicates that she has managed to meet at least one person quite intimately. He has little time to contemplate her odd appearance and its implications in regards to the conference, however, as another conference attendee slips in to fire off his series of questions just as Jon catches sight of her down the aisle.
    Once he is free again to look up and scan the crowd, she has disappeared. It is as if the press of people has swallowed her whole. He gives up and turns back to straightening the booth. She is waiting for him with arms crossed and a smug look on her face.
    “It looks like you’ve got this all under control,” she says, indicating the posters detailing their work for the past year. “I’m going to go explore more of the conference. You keep holding down the fort and I’ll be back after lunch to relieve you.”
    She gives him a wink and starts to head off into the crowd. Jon glances at his watch, intending to make some complaint about the arrangement. However, before he can he can he finds himself on the ground with the sound of gunshots ringing in his head. His advisor is pinning him to the ground, the smirk gone from her face, as they hear an amplified voice.
    “Everyone on the ground immediately,” the voice booms. “Anyone in noncompliance will be shot summarily for resisting arrest.”
    The hall is stunned into silence. No one resists or even manages a coherent thought as they are rounded up, hands bound, and herded to one side of the room. Once they are all congregated, they are told to sit, as guards are assigned to watch them. The remainder of the military force spreads out through the hall, flipping over tables and knocking aside displays in their search for something. The academics huddle together as they watch their booths and research be turned into a slowly growing pile of scrap paper and discarded posters.
    Once the hall has been completely