Corizen Rising

by Heidi J. Leavitt

  Was there anybody in this world she could really trust? Would Zaq turn on her someday too?

  “Tiran.”

  She nearly jumped right out of her chair. Zaq slid into the chair next to hers.

  “You startled me,” she said shakily. He laughed lightly.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to. What were you thinking about so intently that you didn’t hear me come out?”

  “Nothing,” she evaded. She hardly wanted to tell Zaq she had heard him talking to Erron this morning.

  “I need to tell you something but it’s not very good news. Do you still want to hear it?” he asked seriously.

  “No,” Tiran shuddered. She had had enough bad news to last a lifetime. It was better if she didn’t know. But what if it was about her father? “Never mind, I guess you should tell me,” she relented heavily.

  “Your father came back to Corizen, but he was arrested for treason. I read about it on the archived news posts on the terminal,” Zaq explained, his eyes solemn and his mouth grim.

  “What?” Tiran exclaimed wildly. “Dad, arrested for treason? That’s crazy!”

  “I know, it sounds too awful to be true, but that’s what the posts say. They said he would be extradited to Tyre.”

  “No, that can’t be true,” argued Tiran. “My father was always being called away to Tyre because they needed his help so much! They can’t think he’s a traitor!”

  “They say that he sold Armada technology to the Brotherhood.”

  Tiran sat in stunned silence. Of course that was impossible. Wasn’t it? Was even her father going to turn into someone she had never known? No, she couldn’t believe it. Everyone else might be a criminal but never her father. She would trust in him no matter what anyone else said. No one could shake her trust in her father.

  “Zaq, Tiran!” called Burke agitatedly from the door. “You’ve got to come hear this! It’s a live feed on the terminal. You’ll never guess—Othar Eshude is speaking personally.”

  Tiran glanced at Zaq questioningly. Zaq frowned worriedly. Together they followed Burke into the house and gathered near the terminal screen. Tiran caught a glimpse of Erron moving in behind to see also, and shifted to the side so that Zaq was in between them. Burke turned up the sound on his terminal.

  “My dear fellow Denicorizens. I know that many of you have struggled during these difficult times. Veshti has been punishing us fiercely for our unwillingness to return to the true ways. Some have even dared to question my calling as prophet.”

  Burke laughed heartily.

  “Only some?” Erron murmured drily.

  “Tonight, Veshti has condescended to prove to all Corizen that I am His chosen servant. Listen carefully and choose your future!” he thundered. Tiran shivered. She couldn’t drag her fascinated eyes from his face. His head was shaved, and his face was lined. She was surprised by how normal he looked. He seemed to be merely a sad middle-aged man. Yet the tone of his words was harsh and grating.

  “Last year you were all told that the infamous Sirra Bruche had been killed by one of Veshti’s loyal followers. Alas, we were all deceived. Through the trickery and lies of the evil men who wish to dominate our planet, we were convinced it was so. However, Veshti has decided to intervene, and He has placed into my hands the traitor Sirra Bruche, alive and well.” There was a collective gasp from Burke’s living room. Tiran gripped Zaq’s hand tightly. Was it possible? Was her mother truly alive?

  “She has come to us at this time to let the truth be known once and for all. Now the vile deceit of the oppressive Union will finally be laid bare. To convince you all, we will let the traitor speak for herself.” The Oman finished and the camera panned to his side to a trio of individuals: one Citizen woman flanked by two robed members of the Brotherhood. The camera zoomed in, and Tiran cried out softly. It was her mother, beyond all doubt. Her hair was an unfamiliar brown color with an occasional strand of silver, very different from the last time Tiran had seen her, but she knew her mother’s face. Yet there was something about her eyes. Something wasn’t quite right.

  “My name is Andrea Morten. I am also known as Sirra Bruche,” her mother intoned softly. Burke turned up the volume once again. It was barely possible to hear her. “All that the Oman says is true. I was part of a conspiracy headed by the Premier of the Union herself.” She paused for a moment, clearing her throat. “Our goal was to cause a Revolution on Corizen, and I enlisted the aid of Laeren Bruche. With his help we deluded many people into serving the cause of the Revolution.” She stopped speaking and visibly winced with pain.

  “Later I married an Armada officer, Casey Morten. Together, we continued to help destabilize Corizen by providing military weapons to terrorists. The Premier’s goal was a weakened Corizen that would be unable to fight a Union takeover. Unfortunately, the Oman prevented me from completing my assignment.” She stopped again. One of her escorts turned and gently touched her arm. She opened her mouth once more, and then shut it. Quickly the camera returned to the Oman.

  “You have now heard the truth. The Revolution was a fraud. The new government is the pawn of the debased Union. Shake off their rule, break free of their chains. Join me in faithfully serving Veshti!” He raised his hand, and the transmission broke off.

  The room was utterly silent. Tiran couldn’t even hear any breathing.

  Predictably, Burke broke the silence. “Well!” he huffed. “Old Othar sure has outdone himself this time. Who would have guessed?” Then he laughed until the tears streamed down his cheeks. Tiran stared at him, her mouth turned down in displeasure. What could he possibly find funny about this situation? And what in the world was wrong with her mother? Her head whirled and for a moment she thought she would faint. Then, she felt Zaq steadying her with his arm.

  No, she told herself. Something is not right. My mother never would have done that. Nor my father.

  “Must be some story behind that one. Sirra Bruche’s death was faked and then Othar still manages to get his hands on her!” Burke shook his head.

  “I would have thought he would have just killed her and been done with it,” Erron spoke quietly. Tiran shuddered. She had forgotten for a moment that Erron was there.

  “But all these years she’s been working against the new government? She wants it to fail?” asked Zaq, bewildered. Tiran withdrew her hand from Zaq’s. Surely he didn’t believe that!

  “No, that was a genius stroke on Othar’s part,” Burke reflected. “Obviously he’s got an implant in her. Otherwise she never would have said it at all. Couldn’t you see her trying to fight it?”

  “Those pauses?” guessed Tiran, a small bit of hope flooding her chest.

  “And how they cut off her statement at the end,” observed Erron. “They must have wanted her to say something else, but she would not do it.”

  “Still, the damage has been done,” Burke returned morosely. “Half the fools on this planet will believe it. The other half will still want nothing to do with Othar no matter what. This will mean bloody civil war again. Probably anarchy.”

  “This is my limit. I am leaving the planet,” decided Erron with uncharacteristic energy. “I do not care how hard it is. I am getting out of this place. Anarchy is not my idea of a pleasant way to live.”

  “No, we’ll need your help, Erron,” said Zaq. “You can’t leave yet.”

  Tiran turned in surprise to Zaq. She could see that the other two were puzzled as well.

  “You can’t honestly say you want to live like this!” he exclaimed. “We can’t let our planet fall to pieces just because of some power hungry crazy man!”

  “Just what do you propose to do about it?” questioned Erron.

  Zaq frowned for a moment. “We need to get rid of the implants. If people weren’t forced to agree with what the Oman said, he wouldn’t be nearly as strong.”

  “Good luck,” Erro
n snorted. “What, do you think Burke can personally find each member of the Brotherhood and say, ‘Please hold still for a minute while I fix your head?’ The idea is laughable.”

  “No, but couldn’t you make more of those deactivators?” Zaq asked Burke. “I bet the CPF would be willing to use them on every Brother they track down.”

  “Possibly,” conceded Burke. “If I had enough time and plenty of supplies, but where would I get them? And how would I get them to the CPF? I’m sure they wouldn’t just trust me out of the blue.”

  “I know someone who might be able to help with that part. Possibly two people,” Tiran interjected quietly. “They would trust me.”

  “You are too likely to get caught, Tiran,” Zaq said warningly. “Everyone is still looking for you.”

  “There has to be an easier way to do this,” argued Erron. “These implants are just receivers of some kind, are they not? Just disable them from wherever the Oman transmits to all of them.”

  Burke shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t work like that. The implant alters your brain chemistry, conditions you with pain, changes how you think and react to the Oman himself. It’s not dependent on any kind of transmitter.” He cocked his head for a moment. “Each implant does function as a tracking device. There are central receivers in several parts of the world allowing the implant to be tracked.”

  “We could destroy those then,” Zaq suggested hopefully.

  “But what good would that be?” voiced Erron skeptically. “You would still have a host of people loyal to the Oman, only now nobody would be able to find them.” He settled into a chair, his legs sprawling. “You still have not given me a compelling reason to stay. I do not see that we can do anything about this.”

  Zaq heaved an exasperated sigh. Burke was standing very still, his eyes narrowed with unwonted seriousness. Tiran watched them all, silently following the debate. Erron wasn’t likely to help, but she could see that Zaq was eager to do something, and Burke was seriously considering the idea.

  “This is all more difficult than you think,” Burke admitted finally.

  “I do not see how it could be. I already think it is impossible,” Erron muttered. Burke ignored him.

  “The Oman is not working alone. He is working with someone inside the Union government. The implants are made off-planet. I was part of the first smuggling group that helped bring them in.”

  Erron threw up his hands in disgust. “So not only do we need to fight the Brotherhood and avoid our own witless government authorities, we must also outmaneuver the Armada? You cannot be serious.”

  Tiran glanced at Zaq. He was staring at Burke, his expression stunned. For the first time she realized that she wasn’t the only one who was facing disillusionment. Despite losing faith in the Oman before, she didn’t think he had ever considered the possibility that the Oman would work with the “hated enemy.”

  Burke’s jovial nature suddenly reasserted itself. He chuckled and rubbed his hands together with glee. “I know someone who if properly persuaded will be able to help us figure out Eshude’s location.”

  Tiran’s jaw dropped. She could see that Erron and Zaq were paying strict attention to Burke now.

  “Don’t you think that is information that Congress would be able to use?” his eyes glinted. “I bet it’d be worth some official pardons to them. If,” he turned to Tiran, “you really are able to contact someone who can help.”

  “I think I can,” Tiran answered, trying to muster all her courage.

  “It’s so risky,” Zaq returned flatly. “I don’t like it.”

  Tiran turned and looked out the window. “Neither do I,” Tiran admitted. “Still, there’s a chance. It’s my parents’ lives at stake as much as anything else.” She shuddered at the thought of falling into the hands of the Brotherhood. What else could she do though?

  “It’s settled then,” Burke grinned. “Well, here’s to the success of the allies of Davuune!”

  25. Rewritten History

  Who would have guessed that waiting for extradition could take so long? Casey wondered as he sat inside his cell. It had been a couple of weeks and he was still sitting in his locked cell on the CPF base in Roma. It wasn’t as boring as it could have been. His guards often stopped by to chat with him, and they told him all the local gossip and asked him all kinds of animated questions about the Union. Yet still Casey couldn’t find out what he really wanted to know. No one knew when he was going to be sent to Tyre to stand trial. No one knew if he would get to consult with any of his staff. No one knew what had happened to Andie.

  That topic was especially complicated. He couldn’t ask about her directly since his wife was supposed to be dead, but he had no idea what Andie had told the soldiers. He presumed she hadn’t told her real name; otherwise, even his guards would have heard that the famous Sirra Bruche was still alive. But for fear of contradicting whatever story she had concocted, he was too afraid to ask anything too specific. Once he had asked his guards if they had heard anything about the woman he had been traveling with, and they had merely shrugged or shook their heads. He dared not ask more than that, but he wondered all the time if they had let her go and if she was safe.

  He also had plenty of time to brood about the information that Andie had shared with him. He could almost feel his blood pressure rising as he thought about that psychotic Oanni trapping his wife and forcing her to watch Tiran leave before he nearly killed her. His stomach lurched every time he thought of Tiran being deceived by Erron Kruunde into eloping with him. Every time he got to that point he shut his thoughts down. Thinking about it too far felt like a red hot poker was pressed against his brain. It was easier to focus instead on these idiotic charges of treason that had been levied against him. The idea was so ludicrous he couldn’t believe that anyone could take it seriously.

  Finally the day came when his guard greeted him cheerfully with the news that he was going to have a visitor.

  “Who?” Casey asked, hope springing to life inside him. Maybe somehow Andie had pulled some strings to come visit him. Of course she would have had to give up the secret that she was alive though. Maybe he shouldn’t be hoping for it but still . . .

  “One of the Representatives,” reported the guard, abruptly dashing Casey’s hopes. “He’s coming in a moment. He’s being scanned first,” he explained willingly. Casey stood up and tried to smooth down his clothes. Ruefully he realized he was still wearing the clothes he had changed into weeks ago at his brief stop at the Ka home before he went heedlessly charging after Andie. If he had never gone after her to Kruunde Manor, the CPF would never have picked her up also, but he couldn’t quite regret it. Though he was worried about his wife, it was like a two ton burden had been lifted from his shoulders in that short hour he had spent with her. Healing the breach between them made everything so much easier to bear.

  Another guard walked into view leading Bret Ka. Casey should have known that if anyone could manage to get in to see him it would be Bret. His face stretched into a smile of welcome, then faltered. Bret looked terrible. His eyes were haggard, his clothes were rumpled, and his unshaven face was shadowed. It almost seemed as if Bret had been in prison for several weeks also. Casey frowned. Had he inadvertently dragged Bret into this insanity?

  The first guard unlocked the gate to his cell and the second one ushered Bret in. “Ten minutes, sir,” he informed Bret politely. Obviously, whatever Bret had been through, it hadn’t changed his standing with the guards. They locked the gate and respectfully stood back from the cell, though they were still within earshot.

  “Bret, you look awful,” Casey observed frankly. “Are you all right?”

  Bret smiled bitterly, his mouth twisted down. “I’ve been better. I’ve spent the last two weeks being interrogated before Congress about my connections to you.”

  Casey sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to get involved in
this.”

  Bret chuckled mirthlessly. “You don’t even know what you’re involved in, Ambassador.”

  “No, I don’t,” admitted Casey, running his fingers through his hair. “I probably know less about why I’m sitting in a prison cell in Roma than anyone else in the whole world.” He lowered his voice. “What have you found out, Bret?”

  Bret shook his head. “You’re not going to believe it. I can hardly believe it myself. This isn’t common knowledge, but your aide kept me in the loop as long as he could. He’s been subpoenaed, by the way. They consider him a flight risk so he’s being held here also. Just so you know,” Bret explained conversationally. Casey gasped. Steven was being held here also?

  “That’s crazy!” he spluttered.

  “It gets worse.”

  Casey’s heart sank. He steeled himself for the news.

  “The Union Security Council claims they have evidence that proves that a group of Armada operatives is responsible for instigating the Revolution. Naturally, both you and your wife are named as members of that group.”

  “But everyone knows it wasn’t like that! The Security Council knows exactly what our involvement with the Revolution was,” Casey interjected. “The Resistance had formed long before we ever got involved.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Bret returned wryly, “seeing as I was part of the Resistance. However, people don’t believe it anymore, Casey. Even on your Security Council. They think that everything they were told back then was a lie.”

  Casey sucked in his breath. It couldn’t be possible. It was like someone was rewriting the past.

  “What about Andie? They can’t possibly think she got captured and sold into slavery on purpose! That it was part of some master plan?”

  “It is something like that,” Bret admitted. Casey snorted in derision. People wouldn’t be such fools to believe that kind of garbage.