Corizen Rising

by Heidi J. Leavitt

  The Arbiter held up his hand and waited for complete silence.

  “At this time we will halt for a break. Court will resume in one hour,” he declared. All around them, Representatives rose and stretched before filing out of the chamber.

  Casey was escorted from the room by two guards. He spent the hour in a small holding cell. A nice lunch was provided for him but he was unable to eat more than a few bites. It was impossible to tell how Congress was reacting to the evidence, and answering the questions of ninety-something Representatives could take weeks. No wonder high court trials took forever. At this rate he would be fifty before his fate was finally decided.

  At the end of the break, his guards escorted him back to the trial chamber, but to his dismay, Filpot was nowhere to be seen. He waited anxiously for his advocate to arrive, but even after the entire Congress was seated and the Arbiter was calling them to order, Filpot’s chair remained empty. What possibly could have detained him now? Would they go on with the trial without him?

  “Let us resume these proceedings,” ordered the Arbiter. “Ambassador, please return to the witness chair.”

  Apparently they would.

  “Ambassador, so far your defense has not explained the testimony of Captain Jirac of the Palace Guard. He has testified that you approached him with threats and requests from the Brotherhood,” reminded the Arbiter. “If you have anything to counter that, let us hear it now.”

  Casey gave one final desperate glance at Filpot’s empty chair before answering.

  “Captain Jirac’s statement is false,” Casey explained simply. “I never tried to recruit him into the Brotherhood, I never asked for access to the Palace Grounds, and I definitely never threatened him or his family.”

  “Why would the Captain of the Palace Guard lie about something like this?” asked a Representative skeptically.

  “I don’t know,” answered Casey evenly. “That would be a very good question to ask the Captain. I can only say that I never did those things.”

  The gray-haired, mocking lady sniffed. “So either he is lying or you are. Yet the Palace Guard are thoroughly investigated and they have proved their loyalty again and again. While you have admitted you have lied to protect yourself or your wife in the past. Why should we believe you now?”

  “The Ambassador is guilty!” someone shouted from the back.

  Congress broke into muttering and angry exchanges. The Arbiter was trying vainly to restore order to the chambers when suddenly the floor-level door was flung open. Counsel Filpot rushed into the room breathlessly. “Wait!” he called.

  The Arbiter pressed a button on his small handheld microphone and a loud bell rang through the room. Instantly, the chambers quieted. The bell echoed for a minute before finally dying down. By then, all eyes were centered on Filpot who was standing with red cheeks in front of Casey.

  “I have new witnesses to call before you resume questioning the Ambassador,” Filpot insisted.

  The Representatives muttered among themselves and the Arbiter looked annoyed.

  “It would be an extremely unusual proceeding to allow witnesses who were not previously deposed,” the Arbiter replied, his voice gruff.

  “With all due respect,” responded Filpot drily, “this entire trial is an unusual proceeding.” The Arbiter seemed undecided for a moment. Casey hoped that he remembered that Congress had already changed the rules at least once by allowing Citizen witnesses.

  Finally the Arbiter shrugged. “Very well,” he conceded.

  Casey looked curiously to his advocate but Filpot was already heading back to the door. He opened it and ushered in four men and two women, all Denicorizen. There was another wave of excited whispers from the Congress seats.

  Casey immediately spotted Bret Ka, immaculately dressed and walking confidently back into the midst of his fellow Representatives. The first woman, noted Casey in shock, was none other than Jerrapo Coraelle. The second woman was an unfamiliar, middle-aged woman who stared determinedly at the floor. Jumping to the other three men, he studied their faces. One was a middle aged man, probably a little past Casey’s age. He was dressed soberly but somehow seemed to give off an air of excitement, even anticipation. The next man was a little older, whose face immediately conveyed both disappointment and weariness. However, when Casey’s eyes reached the final man, he caught his breath. He was a much older man, slightly bent with age, with a neatly trimmed beard and snowy hair. His intense gaze swept the Congress seats before settling on Casey. Casey returned the gaze in wonder. He had met with this man only a couple of times, but Thane Navaro was one of the heroes of the Revolution, a leader as well known as Morek-Li Damato. He had served in the first Congress but had retired several years ago and disappeared from view.

  Judging by the reaction in the Congress seats, Casey wasn’t the only one who recognized him. The Arbiter motioned to the guards stationed near the door, who brought in several chairs for the new witnesses. Casey returned to the accused’s chair and watched eagerly as his advocate asked Navaro to take the witness chair.

  Collectively, the whole room seemed to lean closer in anticipation.

  “Master Navaro, I have asked you here because I need you to refute some rumors that are clouding the Ambassador’s trial,” Filpot began, his voice ringing through the trial chamber. “We need to put them at rest so that the motives of Ambassador Morten may be clearly judged by Congress.”

  He cleared his throat. “Many members of this Congress have been misinformed as to the origin of the organization called the Resistance, which instigated the Revolution. As you were one of the founding members of this group, please explain to Congress exactly what influence Ambassador Morten and his wife Andrea had on the creation of the Resistance.”

  The entire room was silent as they waited for Navaro’s reply.

  “I assume that most of you Representatives have been deluded into thinking that somehow the Union had a hand in creating the Resistance,” rumbled Thane. “If you believe that, you must be the most ignorant herd of tadpoles ever elected to Congress.”

  Casey looked around at the dumbfounded expressions on the Representatives’ faces. He was sure they hadn’t been expecting to be called an “ignorant herd of tadpoles.” He smothered a smile. Navaro obviously wasn’t one to hold back.

  “The first Resistance meetings actually took place a good ten years before we ever made contact with anybody from the Union at all. As for the idea that Andrea was on some kind of top secret mission from the Armada to stir up revolutionary fervor, you would have to be the biggest ninny in the world to believe that arrant nonsense.”

  Another sensation for the Representatives. There were a few scattered snickers among Congress.

  “I was one of the first people in the Resistance to meet the woman known as Sirra Bruche. She wasn’t some dangerous agent highly trained in the arts of secret persuasion. She was a terrified child far from her home. We took her in and protected her. She did not use us in some convoluted way to serve the interests of the Union Premier. We, the leaders of the Resistance, used her when we wanted to contact the Union to ask for help. You blithering donkeys have it all backward.”

  At this a man Casey recognized as the Representative from the Gora District angrily jumped to his feet. “You are a senile old fool, Thane, and I don’t believe a word you say. We should not have to listen to the testimony of decrepit old men!” There was stunned silence for a moment and then chaos erupted in the chamber. Casey could see that most of the Representatives still considered Navaro with awe and respect and many were loudly decrying the rudeness of the Representative from Gora. Casey felt his spirits lift. It really sounded like most of Congress believed Navaro.

  The Arbiter finally managed to restore order and turned to Navaro.

  “Master Navaro, you may continue,” he directed politely.

  “As for Ambassador Morten, I never met h
im until after the Revolution. My responsibilities were for the Resistance on Urok, and I hardly ever came to Roma. Yet I frequently communicated with Miranda Bruche, who was his first contact, and later with Jenner Manat, who replaced her. Both described Morten as willing to help provide any supplies needed, but he was in no way involved in making decisions in the Resistance.”

  Navaro’s testimony clearly had an impact on Congress. He could see from just looking at the faces; many were more thoughtful and less openly disdainful of anything that was said.

  Filpot took the floor once more.

  “Thane Navaro, Mikal Saren, Walt Bene, Bret Ka, and Jerrapo Coraelle all sit before you today. All of them were high level leaders in the Resistance. They have all risked their lives in coming before you today to testify that the Revolution was begun by Denicorizens and carried out by Denicorizens and brought to its triumphant end by Denicorizens. Ambassador Morten was not and never has been involved in a Union plot to take over our planet by creating the Revolution.”

  The muttering was short this time and died out quickly. Filpot then called Jerrapo as a witness. Casey could read the puzzlement on many of the Representatives’ faces. Jerrapo had come before this very Congress to provide proof that the Armada was helping the Brotherhood. He knew they must be confused why she would now testify in his behalf. Casey wondered that himself.

  “As you know,” Jerrapo began, her cultured voice resonating through the room, “I came to you only weeks ago to show you proof that the Armada was providing weapons to the terrorists. I called for the eviction of the Armada from our planet, and you willingly rose to the task. Yet I come before you ashamed and appalled today, my fellow patriots. Because of my own prejudice and shortsightedness, we have done a terrible thing.”

  The Representatives stared at her in shock. Casey leaned forward, his eyes focused intently on Jerrapo. She clearly knew something important.

  “Captain Jirac earlier testified that Ambassador Morten tried to recruit him into the Brotherhood, and probably many of you trusted that statement without reservation. After all, if we cannot trust our own Palace Guard, whom can we trust?”

  “I am here before you today to tell you that the documents I gave to you to request the expulsion of the Armada were given to me by Captain Jirac. He said he had gotten them from an Armada acquaintance that needed to remain anonymous.”

  Jerrapo took a deep breath.

  “My dear fellow patriots, Captain Jirac is not who he says he is. He is an agent of the Brotherhood.”

  “How is that possible?” called a woman shrilly, her voice quaking. “Each Palace Guard is so thoroughly investigated!”

  “The original CPF soldier who was investigated before joining the Palace Guard was Evan Jirac. He easily passed all his background investigations and the truth serum interviews. Evan was a happily married man with two children and no links to the Brotherhood whatsoever. Evan had four brothers and sisters who vouched for his character. All of his siblings were investigated as well, except one older brother named Emir, who had apparently gone missing in a blizzard the year before and was presumed dead.”

  “The Captain Jirac who testified before you is not Evan Jirac, who passed his background investigation, but his brother Emir.” Casey sucked in his breath. An imposter!

  “How do you know this?” asked the Arbiter in astonishment, breaking his traditional role.

  Jerrapo smiled faintly. “I spoke with Evan Jirac’s wife this morning. She is your next witness.”

  Among the animated buzzing, the other woman was directed to the witness chair and introduced herself as Jana Jirac. She seemed terribly frightened. Her round face was waxen pale and her eyes darted all around the room as if she was afraid of the Representatives themselves. Obviously even the Arbiter could see her fear, and when he spoke he was kind.

  “Madam Jirac, you are the wife of Evan Jirac of the Palace Guard?”

  “Yes,” she answered quietly. The Arbiter pressed the microphone closer to her mouth. The room was utterly silent.

  “Is the man who testified last week your husband?”

  “No,” she replied tremulously. “Two years ago, just before Evan assumed his new post in the Palace Guard, his older brother Emir reappeared and kidnapped my husband. He told me that if I went along with his charade, Evan would not be killed. So he moved into our home and pretended to be my husband, taking his post in the Palace Guard.”

  “Why have you come forward now?” the Arbiter asked.

  “It has been so long, sir. My hope for Evan is exhausted and we can’t continue to live in fear like this,” she explained timidly. “Madam Coraelle came to visit me, and I confessed everything to her.”

  Madam Jirac’s short testimony was met with silence. Casey slumped back in his chair. He had known it; ever since Jirac’s blatant lies he had known that Jirac somehow was the key. However, he had never expected Jerrapo, of all people, to prove it.

  After a few closing statements from Filpot, Casey watched in amazement as Representative after Representative voted to acquit him of all the charges. In the end, the vote was clearly in his favor: eighty-five voted for acquittal, and only six voted to convict.

  The Arbiter then loudly announced. “The verdict is clear. Ambassador Casey Morten, you are hereby found not guilty of all charges.”

  Filpot came to Casey’s side and smiled widely. “Better than I could have dreamed,” he admitted. Casey grabbed him into a bear hug.

  A hand touched him on the shoulder and he turned to face Jerrapo, her eyes somber. “Ambassador,” she greeted seriously.

  “Madam,” he returned formally, unsure of what to expect. She had just defended him, but her tone was unsettling.

  “Come into the lobby, I have someone I would like you to meet.” Throwing a puzzled glance at Filpot he followed Jerrapo into the lobby. Waiting just outside the door was a young Denicorizen man who was staring around uneasily. Obviously he felt he was out of his element.

  “This is Zaq,” Jerrapo introduced. “He’s a former member of the Brotherhood who just brought us the possible location of the Oman.”

  “The location of Othar Eshude? That’s wonderful! Is the CPF moving in?”

  “Saren is getting a team together,” she explained. She paused for a moment taking a deep breath. “Zaq also spent the last several weeks on the run with Tiran.”

  “What?” exclaimed Casey. He turned to the young man. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

  “We have news about your family but you are not going to like it,” continued Jerrapo grimly, glancing at Zaq. All the blood drained from Casey’s face as he listened to Jerrapo’s story.

  32. The Oman of the Brotherhood

  Andie lay on the cot staring blankly at the gray, pockmarked ceiling. How long had she been staying in this room? She couldn’t be sure; she only knew that she felt no desire to move from the cot. Her whole life seemed to have no meaning any more.

  Always she had thought she had done the best she could with what life had thrown at her. Yet last week she had wakened to find herself in the presence of the kindest, wisest man she had ever met. He had firmly explained to her that she had committed the most heinous crimes against all Denicorizens and most of all against the god Veshti. Never before had she felt such emotional agony. It was terrifying and awful, and she would have done anything to make it stop.

  In anguish she had cried out, pleading for forgiveness and asking what she could possibly do to atone for her mistakes.

  That was when she learned that her kind, wise savior was the Oman of the Brotherhood—none other than Othar Eshude himself. At first she had rebelled against that, but the ensuing agony reminded her that she needed to look at her life from a fresh perspective. Instantly, she knew she had been essentially wrong about the Oman for all these years. She had shrunk from his presence, her entire being trembling with unworthiness as he approached.<
br />
  Obviously Laeren had deceived her about Othar Eshude. This man was not a threat. She should have come to him sooner. She was certain he would help her put things right in her life again.

  Then he had condescended to give her an assignment.

  At first she was puzzled. He was asking her to lie about the way things had happened during the Revolution. It didn’t make any sense. If this man was truly a prophet for Veshti, why would he ask her to lie?

  Just then a blinding headache had distracted her. The Oman had then explained that it was the only way to set the proper order back in place on Corizen. Only by appearing and confessing to these crimes she had never committed could she truly make up for the horrible sin of helping the Revolution succeed.

  Thoughtfully she remembered her publicized confession. It had gone mostly as it was supposed to, but sometimes the statements had stuck in her throat. It was so hard to lie, even though the Oman had commanded it. And the final part where she had been instructed to plead with her daughter to turn herself in? She had simply been unable to say the words. No matter what the Oman had told her, she knew Tiran was not guilty of any of these sins. Tiran had never had anything to do with furthering the Revolution. These heretical thoughts had caused so much pain that she had passed out completely.

  Idly she wondered if she had atoned enough yet to make up for ending the Kruundin City siege. The Oman had promised her forgiveness, but she wasn’t sure she had earned it yet. Maybe if she did, the Oman would let Tiran alone. Tiran shouldn’t have to be responsible for the mistakes of her parents.

  After hours of the thoughts fruitlessly spinning in these circles, a knock sounded at her door. She quickly sat up and tried to make herself presentable. The door opened and she was graced by the presence of the Oman himself. Trailing him were a couple of his most loyal guards, completely hidden in ink-black robes that rustled as they strode into the room. In between those guards trudged an immediately familiar young woman.