Page 124 of Strays
Jayme’s firm ends up not too far from DEA: we get there in twenty minutes. A receptionist leads us to a small conference room with exposed brick on onewall and bookshelves lined with thick legal volumes and trial binders. A mounted flatscreen sits above the table, with a discreet camera fixed just above it, clearly built for depositions and remote hearings.
Jayme walks in without preamble, a leather-bound folder under one arm. He’s dressed like always: pressed shirt, no tie, sleeves rolled just once.
When the screen lights up, the camera steadies on a man in his late forties, wearing a sharp suit, with salt-and-pepper hair neatly cut and a clean-shaven face.
“Good afternoon,” he says. “You must be the Larsens.”
We nod. Jay leans back in his chair, arms crossed.
“I’m Thomas Renner,” he says. “I’ve been retained by the Military Aegis Board to serve as lead counsel in your case. Jayme and I are working in partnership, and I’ve already reviewed everything he’s built so far.”
His voice is measured, but not cold. “I know you’ve been briefed on the basics: arraignment, summons, the charges you're facing. But I want to give you the broader picture. Not just what this is, but what it means.”
He leans slightly toward the screen. “You are the first pack in Special Operations to be criminally charged. That it happened before your transfer doesn’t lessen the fallout. As far as the system is concerned, you represent Special Ops now, and the political consequences will be treated that way.”
Jay’s jaw tightens again. We’ve been clenching so much lately that if our teeth were as fragile as human’s, they’d have shattered by now.
Renner keeps going. “That’s not to say you did anything wrong, but it does mean your case will be watched closely. By courts, by lawmakers and by the Department of Defense. Every motion we file will set tone and precedent.”
“So here’s what I need from you,” he says. “Discipline. Composure. Absolute consistency. You are under more scrutiny now than you’ve ever been. And if anything new appears in your files, any misstep, even minor, the DA will use it. They'll build a narrative from whatever scraps they can find.”
Jay finally speaks. “So what’s the strategy?”
Renner nods, like he was waiting for that. “Simple,” he says. “We anchor the case in facts. You are a federally sanctioned pack. You’re trained to neutralize threats. A drunk civilian made aggressive advances toward your nyra. Your response was instinctive, not premeditated. Protective, not retaliatory. The legal term is justifiable use of force in defense of another. That’s our anchor.”
He glances off-screen, then back. “Jayme and I will handle the legal machinery. If the press knocks, you don’t answer. No comments.”
Shane raises a brow. “And the DoD?”
Renner smiles faintly. “Let me worry about them. This isn’t my first political firestorm.”
The screen flickers slightly as he checks his notes. “We'll meet in person on Monday at your arraignment. Until that moment, stay quiet. No statements andno surprises.”
He looks at each of us through the screen. “This isn’t unwinnable. It’s just unprecedented. Which means that, if we do it right, we can do more than just clear your names; we can prove that not every aegis accused of violence against a human deserves to be condemned. That context matters, and due process applies to all of us. This case could actually change something.”
I don’t say anything. None of us does. But my thoughts are loud. Before this call, I was ready to find any way to get to Aranya, even if it meant crossing legal lines. But if doing that means risking our case, I can’t do it.
I can’t do that to myself, my brothers, and Jo. We deserve better than that. And if Renner’s right, maybe this is bigger than just us. It could mean something for other aegis too, a chance to be treated fairly by human justice.
If I don’t find any legal way to bring Aranya down… then, as much as it guts me, I’ll have to let him walk.
Over the next few days, I keep digging, trying to find a legal breach. But every time I hit another dead end, and the rage rises like bile in my throat, I remind myself that I need to keep my head down, no matter what.
The following Monday, instead of heading to the DEA, we go to Milstone Courthouse. When we arrive, Jayme is already there with Thomas Renner, waiting in the lobby.
Renner’s handshake is firm, and his expression calm. “Prosecutor will ask for restrictive release, but we’ll push back,” he says. “Stay quiet. Let us handle it.”
He’s right. As soon as it begins, the prosecutor rises. “Your Honor, the State requests continued release under bond with additional conditions: surrender of firearms, mandatory check-ins, and a no-contact order with the victim—”
Renner cuts in. “Objection, Your Honor. The defendants are federal agents with no flight risk, and were cleared by Internal Affairs.”
The judge eyes us. Then exhales. “Sustained. Conditions of release will remain as previously set. Plea?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor,” Renner replies.
The whole thing lasts less than five minutes. At the end, the judge sets a pre-trial hearing date for two weeks later.
The next morning, Josh pulls us from physical training. “Command room.”
