Corizen Rising

by Heidi J. Leavitt

  It was better in the conference building. It had been turned into a makeshift embassy to replace the destroyed building, and he was greeted by a staff member that he recognized as soon as he walked in.

  “Ambassador Morten!” the young woman cried, rising from her desk. “It’s so good to see you back!” She colored deeply and sat back down. Casey smiled at her. “It’s been a long time hasn’t it, Miss Anson?”

  “Yes,” she answered, a bit shortly. “We were afraid you wouldn’t be coming back after all that had happened.”

  “Well, I’ve finally made it. Could you point me in the direction of my office?” he asked pleasantly.

  “Mmm, sure, I think we had one set up with what had been salvaged from your office before. Just a minute,” she said, pressing an intercom button.

  “Mr. Granger?” she asked. “Ambassador Morten is here in the lobby. Could you show him to his office?” Casey heard an excited assent, and Steven dashed into the lobby less than a minute later.

  “Ambassador!” he greeted warmly.

  “Steven!” returned Casey. “I am so glad to see you.” He took his aide’s hand and pressed it in relief. It was so good to see his top aide, one of his closest associates. They had been in contact while Casey was on Tyre, but seeing Steven in person again helped Casey feel a little less torn from his moorings.

  “This way,” Steven directed. “I’ll show you to your office.” His office was on the floor above, in one of the corners with large windows facing both north and east. His old desk, though battered in a few spots, had been recovered and placed in the middle of the room. He sank into the chair behind the desk and sighed heavily.

  “If I close my eyes I can pretend I’m back in my old office. Like the bombing had never happened and if I walked across the complex I’d find my family waiting there for me,” Casey murmured wistfully.

  Steven slid into one of the chairs in front of Casey’s desk. “I think we all wish we could go back to the way things were last year. It’s been like living in a never-ending bad dream.”

  Casey allowed himself one more sigh and then sat up straight in his chair.

  “So what are the plans for the embassy now that the Armada is gone?” he asked in a more businesslike tone. “This is a nice office, but I feel like a sitting duck knowing that we have very little protection here.”

  “Well, since the Armada base is essentially deserted, they have cut off the big shield that protected the whole complex. That does make us more vulnerable,” Steven admitted. “However, the CPF still monitors the gates and enforces some security, like the retina scans. Plus, we have a small nuclear shield protecting the embassy,” he explained.

  “Yes, I had to be cleared to enter,” observed Casey. “But all of that security was in place before the embassy bombing.”

  “It’s easier to secure the conference building though,” reminded Steven. “We don’t have the same kind of traffic without a military base and university. Only Union Citizens and specifically cleared high-ranking Denicorizens are allowed inside the shield.”

  “We sent most of the staff home when the Armada left,” continued the aide. “We are just a skeleton crew now, and all of us have our sleeping quarters in the underground levels. Most of the people left are waiting for the official call to pull out from the Security Council.” Casey pondered that for a moment. He was going to have to find the traitor fast if he wanted help from any of the embassy staffers.

  “Steven, I have the personal support of the Premier as well as President Gulann in my hunt for the traitor. I have to find whoever it is, and I need to do it as quickly as possible.”

  Steven did not seem surprised. “We have continued to search, like you asked. But I just can’t find anyone who has a business here who has been dealing with the Brotherhood. I’ve investigated every single registered merchant, but it is nearly impossible to tell. I have no way of knowing which people are members of the Brotherhood, except for that very small list we compiled last year.” He held up his empty hands in defeat.

  “And of those merchants, only four have any ties to the Armada at all. We did surveillance, pulled their records and I just found nothing. Every single one of them has suffered major financial losses during the last six months, too. They have no motive for trying to disrupt Corizen.” Casey listened in dismay. He had not had high hopes; he had given Steven a nearly impossible task, but it really was his only prospect at this time. Somewhere, someone had to have more information that would help them crack this, but he just didn’t have enough to go on right now.

  Casey spoke with Steven about several other items of embassy business before Steven finally left to see that Casey had a room to sleep in downstairs. After Steven left, Casey settled down in his chair facing the window. His thoughts wandered as he surveyed the forlorn grounds. They were still in pretty good condition; obviously the Denicorizen government had not completely given up on maintaining the landscape. It showed a respect for the bombed embassy building that Casey couldn’t help but admire.

  “Ambassador?” the intercom buzzed.

  “Yes?” he answered, turning back to his desk.

  “Representative Bret Ka from Congress is here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says it is important,” Miss Anson announced. Immediately Casey brightened.

  “Sure, send him up. Thank you,” he answered. Of all the people he had worked with on Corizen, Bret was one of his favorites. He was an extremely intelligent man and an able leader as well, and Casey desperately needed his advice.

  Back during the Revolution, when Andie had first returned from Kruundin City, Casey had secretly resented Bret. After all, it was Bret who had come up with the plan that had risked Andie’s life in order to kill Jaory Kruunde. He had pictured a rather cold and calculating man to whom individuals meant nothing. Their first meeting had been very strained.

  Casey smiled as he remembered it. During the early days of Corizen’s new government, Bret had come to Roma at the request of Morek-Li to participate in the assembly that drafted the first constitution. Andie and Tiran had been living in Roma then, while Casey had finished out his Armada assignment. Andie had arranged to eat dinner with Bret, and she had invited Casey to join them.

  The two men had sat across the table from each other, hardly speaking, while Andie had tried to bridge the silence. He had interpreted Bret’s silence as a confirmation that he was a callous and uncaring man, and Bret (he later learned) had seen Casey as a typical snobbish and self-righteous Armada officer. Fortunately, as ambassador he had been given the chance over the years to get to know Bret differently.

  A short rap on the door announced Bret’s arrival.

  Casey rose and opened the door, smiling broadly. Bret stood erect in the doorway, exuding his usual energy. The two men didn’t say anything, merely grasping hands before Casey ushered Bret in and offered him a chair.

  “It is good to see you again,” Bret greeted in his stiff, formal Basic. Bret had learned some Basic during his years in Congress but he never had become truly fluent. Casey was always surprised when Bret bothered to use it at all with him—he and Steven were both fluent in Denicorizen.

  “It has been far too long,” Casey answered warmly in Denicorizen.

  Bret smiled faintly. “I was beginning to think the Union had kidnapped you, and we would never see you again.”

  “It’s been a rough year, hasn’t it?” Casey noted without preamble.

  “Hell. That’s the only way to describe it,” murmured Bret. “I almost think we were better off with the monarchy and the old caste system.” Casey raised his eyebrows.

  “It’s so bad you’d give up your family? Isn’t your wife from a higher caste than you?”

  Bret glared at Casey. Casey stared back without apology.

  “I just wanted you to remember that things are still better than they used to be,” he reminde
d seriously. “This is temporary, Bret. Of course your government is going to have setbacks. It’s barely ten years old.”

  “I can’t get anyone to listen to me, Casey. I’ve been predicting the problems, but everyone just thinks I’m a pessimist. At least they used to. Nobody doubts me anymore, only no one knows how to fix it now. Much as I wish it weren’t true, we need the Armada back.” He frowned at the ceiling.

  “I’m working on that,” promised Casey.

  “By the way,” Bret changed the subject, “that was a pretty rotten joke you played on us, staging Andie’s death.”

  “Wha—what are you talking about?” stammered Casey. Bret wasn’t supposed to know Andie was alive. How did it get out? Had Steven said something to Bret?

  “Oh, really, Casey, enough of the pretense. After all, it isn’t a ghost staying at my house in Freeport,” snorted Bret.

  Casey stared at Bret, his mouth open.

  “I don’t believe it,” he whispered.

  “You didn’t know?” Bret asked, astonished.

  “No.” Casey stared at Bret, dumbfounded. It wasn’t possible. How could Andie be here on Corizen staying in Freeport of all places?

  “But, she’s on Zenith, how could she . . . ?” he faltered.

  Bret shook his head. “She’s here. She arrived weeks ago.”

  Casey tried to conceal his shock as his brain ground back into action. Why would she do something so reckless? he thought angrily.

  Reckless.

  A slow smile dawned on his face as he remembered calling Andie reckless all those years ago when she had snuck off to become a pilot. Bret stared at him, bewildered.

  “Sorry,” Casey grinned. “I was just remembering that this is exactly the kind of thing I should expect from my wife.”

  “If you say so,” muttered Bret.

  “If she’s staying with you, I’m sure she’s fine,” continued Casey. His eyes lit up. “And I can see her! It’s only a short trip to Freeport by shuttle.”

  “We would be pleased to have you as a guest,” Bret invited, still a bit confused. Then he lowered his voice. “But how are things going here? Did you meet with President Gulann?”

  Casey exhaled loudly, slumping at his desk.

  “Yes, and I will tell you everything I told him.” Briefly, Casey explained about his two year search for the Armada traitor. Bret’s mouth tightened and his eyes flashed, but he did not interrupt.

  “We’ve sifted through every bit of information, and we still can’t figure out who the traitor is,” Casey finished.

  “Well, who stands to gain the most from the Brotherhood’s success?” questioned Bret thoughtfully.

  “Anyone who wants to take over Corizen,” said Casey bluntly. “A divided, chaotic Corizen is much easier to conquer.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “We’ve investigated the most vocal proponents for taking over Corizen but had no success.”

  “I can’t think anyone with business ties would think so. After all, trade with Corizen has just ground to a halt,” Bret observed.

  Suddenly the door flew open and Steven burst into the room gasping for breath. “Ambassador,” he panted, “you have to leave right now. The Council just issued orders for your arrest.”

  “What?” Casey cried out in shock. Bret stood hastily, knocking his chair over backward.

  Steven held up his hand for a moment and then continued with great effort to gasp his words out.

  “They’ve named you as the traitor, Ambassador. You have to leave now, pretend you don’t know. Give me some time to try and get it sorted out.”

  “There has to be some mistake. I’m not going to run, that’s ridiculous,” Casey responded angrily. “Running away is exactly what I’d do if I were guilty.”

  Steven started to pull Casey from his chair. Casey didn’t protest; he was still struggling to understand.

  “Somebody’s set you up, Ambassador,” Steven continued breathlessly. “They are saying they have paper trails, proof that you have been supplying the Brotherhood with weapons.”

  Bret was already pushing Casey out of the door. “Let’s go, Casey,” he ordered quietly.

  “What are you . . . I can’t,” Casey spluttered.

  “I don’t trust that council any more than I trusted the king. If you let them arrest you, you may just disappear, and we need you.” Bret was firm, directing Casey and Steven quickly toward a side exit.

  “Go to Freeport and get Andie, and then go underground, don’t tell us where.” Bret pulled a pen from his pocket and a small notebook and scribbled something quickly.

  He handed the paper to Casey and explained, “That’s the contact information for my wife’s family in Mariposa. You can contact me through them if you need to.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Ambassador,” Steven promised.

  Casey looked once from Steven’s red face and panicked eyes to Bret’s grimly determined face, and then turned and strode through the door.

  Within minutes Casey was in a hired transport heading for Roma’s main shuttleport. His eyes were on the passing traffic outside the window, but he didn’t see anything. His frozen brain had ground back into action, and his thoughts were furiously sifting through possibilities. Who on the council could possibly have believed that he was the traitor? Not Meecham or any of the Security Council members. They knew that he had been tracking down the real traitor all along.

  But what about Premier Rhodam? She had been anxious to send him back to Corizen. Casey didn’t know her very well, but he knew he didn’t completely trust her. She was an efficient manager who kept a tight rein on her subordinates, but Casey knew she would throw him to the wolves in an instant if she thought it would benefit her politically. Maybe she had heard from President Gulann and decided that the man who had failed to find the traitor was as good a scapegoat as any. Maybe she felt it would help her get the Armada back on Corizen.

  “Hey mister, are you planning to get out?” the driver broke through Casey’s thoughts.

  “Oh yeah, thanks,” he answered, handing the driver some coins. The driver’s eyes brightened at the generous tip.

  “Thank you, sir!” he called, as Casey climbed out of the transport. He stood for a moment before the shuttleport doors and then strode briskly inside.

  He quickly learned at the ticket counter that no flights were scheduled to leave for Freeport until six hours later. Rapidly assessing his choices, he decided on Kruundin City. Kruundin City was the biggest city on Urok now, having outstripped even Croask, and it had shuttles leaving almost every hour. He purchased a ticket for a shuttle leaving in the next hour and headed for the gate, trying to stay as calm as possible.

  During his time as an Armada officer, he had quickly learned that he had a talent for staying calm under pressure. It was part of the reason he had been originally selected for the Corizen assignment, and it had served him well as an ambassador, too.

  Even now, knowing that his own government was turning on him and betraying him, he was able to stay calm and focused on his objective.

  Get to Freeport, find Andie, and then head for somewhere obscure.

  Mentally he sifted through possible places, but then decided he would make that decision with Andie. She had people from her Resistance days that she could call on for favors.

  He reached his gate in plenty of time and took a seat, his posture upright but not tense. He wondered briefly if he would be detained before he could get out of Roma, but then dismissed the possibility. The Armada had no official presence on Corizen anymore. They would have to work through President Gulann’s office to get approval to extradite him first. Even if the President agreed wholeheartedly to his arrest and then ordered the CPF to pick him up, it would take several hours. It would be long enough for him to fade into obscurity in Urok.

  19. Zaq

  For hours after
leaving the Women of the Tender Heart, Tiran trudged after her new guide through the streets of Kruundin City. She was too embarrassed to talk much; instead, she stared with wonder at her surroundings. They seemed to be following a river through the city. Tall levees had been erected on either side, and a fairly busy street wound next to the levee slope. She watched as tall buildings gave way to smaller, cramped rows of houses. Here and there a small green park would be squeezed between narrow streets. There were lots of people, especially when the sun started to sink low in the sky and the blistering heat finally eased. Tiran saw children playing in the streets, and neighbors sitting on the front steps of buildings while they chatted. It didn’t seem like a city afraid of the Brotherhood. Not in this part at least.

  Of course, nobody thought much of the young couple walking down the street. They passed other pedestrians, but most were walking quickly and did not pay them any heed. Finally the streets started to clear a bit as nightfall drew near. Tiran’s pace grew slower and slower. She had a well-worn pair of shoes that had been part of her Order clothing and they had long been broken in, but by now with each step her legs were groaning in protest. She had probably never walked so long in her life.

  Zaq finally noticed when Tiran started to fall behind him. “Are your feet hurting?” he asked worriedly. “I had forgotten that you might not have shoes for walking.”

  “My shoes are all right but I’m not this used to walking,” Tiran admitted.