by David Roman
“My enemies have unquestionably made sure she wouldn’t be able to advocate on my behalf!” Galadan said, looking at the upper-left box. Yes, he saw him, saw Damien Dark, saw that savage monster standing there with a twisted grin.
“Spare us your personal annotations, your majesty,” Vermont said, “and let’s focus on the current situation. From the facts this Council has received, you’ve staged a rebellion against an Imperial entity, executed thousands of members of the Order and expelled countless others. Yet, you brazenly show up before us today? What do you wish to state on your behalf?”
“We have defended our right to live and our right to liberty!”
A loud mutter passed through the arena.
“For over twenty years, that sadistic radical cult had terrorized my people!” Galadan continued. “For over twenty years, my people were subjected to oppression, slaughter, and slavery! To this day, the Order has slaughtered over a million of my people and to this day these atrocities are being overlooked by this government. We’ve lived in their shadow for far too long—”
“Liar!” a bitter voice shouted, and a face of a man appeared on the monitor. He had alabaster skin, raven-black hair that waved above his head like bursting flames, and black eyes with white pupils. He stood in front of a small podium in one of the boxes, dressed in a black cassock, scowling at Galadan.
“Sir Damien, wait until this Council recognizes you!” Vermont agitatedly said to the robed man. He then turned back to Galadan and continued, “Galadan, your system is recognized as a part of the Order by the Imperial resolution. Your declaration of independence cannot be seen legitimate by this government because in the official Treaty of Urtan it states that your system is willingly joining the Order’s coalition of—.”
“A document that my former King was forced to sign as his entire family was slaughtered!” Galadan responded. “Does that document also state how the Order wiped out entire towns, impaled women and children, and sacrificed thousands to their demon god?”
The whispers returned in the bleachers.
“These are some serious accusations,” Vermont said through his clenched jaw. He was outraged. He trusted Gaia in bringing this man before the Council but now seemed to regret it.
“Is the Imperial Republic aware of the horrors occurring in the systems of this so-called Order?” Galadan glanced around the stadium. “Or is oppression of the weak a part of everyday life in this free realm?”
The susurration in the audience turned into a clamor of anger.
“Objection!” Damien slammed his fist on his podium. “This man is in league with the Revolution separatist movement! Don’t pay heed to these slanderous acrimonies!”
“I will have order in this court!” Vermont shouted, getting up. “Sir Damien, retain your seat!”
“Is the Imperial Republic aware of this?” Galadan repeated amidst the havoc. “Or will you allow these monsters to finish the job and slaughter the rest of my people?”
The uproar grew louder.
Damien’s nostrils flared, and his upper lip twitched. He wanted to jump down, run up to the stage, and kill the slimy reptile on the spot.
“Damn you, Galadan!” he seethed, nearly toppling over the balcony.
“Enough!” Vermont bellowed. After the clamoring ceased, he continued, “Galadan Dox, I will not let you make a mockery of this court! You are lucky we do not issue your arrest for taking arms against the Order!” He then turned his attention to the box. “The Council recognizes Damien Un Hathar, the High Priest of the Order of Cosmos.”
The dark priest’s face appeared on the monitor once more. “That man is insane!” he shouted. “He is a criminal! Why does this prestigious court even recognize this terrorist? That alone is an insult to my brotherhood and will be taken as an attack against our territorial integrity! As far as his claims of oppression go, the majority of Urtans were working alongside the Order and many even willingly embraced our way of life! This man used his influence on his band of separatists to stage an escape, killed hundreds of thousands of my people, and completely decimated our temples of worship! And now he accuses us?” Damien glanced around the stadium and placed his hand on his heart in the most humble way, his face taking an expression that called for pity.
“Hundreds of thousands?” Galadan intervened. “The number of your members on Urtan had never exceeded ten thousand—”
“Urtan is our planet!” Damien spat out. “I demand justice!”
“We’re not going anywhere with this.” Vermont sighed and sat down.
“Will you take his word over ours?” Damien wheedled. “You will take the word of this terrorist? Even after we clearly and publicly supported the Republic in every possible way?”
Vermont cleared his throat. “All people of this Republic have the right to self-determination.”
“That’s preposterous!” Damien hissed through his teeth, barely controlling his temper. “How can you possibly find any truth in these claims? Urtan is our planet!” he emphasized again. “It’s ours! We have the right to retake our system!”
Vermont was lost in thought for a minute. “Galadan Dox,” he then said, ignoring the priest. “How do you propose we solve this situation? You come to us with no proof whatsoever… I mean, what’s the reason for your petition?”
“Help us…” Galadan lowered his voice, bowing his head. “For a long time, my people were unrecognized. First by the Federation and now by the Republic…” He paused, exhaled, and then looked up and said, “We want peace and equality. Senator Gaia has seen the evils I speak of. I implore you… save us from the inevitable genocide and help us become a part of the Republic as a state independent of the Order.”
His last statement shocked the judges as much as it did the Senate. The tribunal nearly burst into an argument as the judges began muttering between each other.
Absolute silence flooded the arena.
Galadan’s heart began to contentedly pound as for the first time he saw hope.
“Urtan is a system that is and was a part of the Order!” Damien continued to fuss. “You cannot consider his offer! We will not stand by and let this happen!”
“Yet, you lost control of it,” Vermont replied. “These people fought for freedom and achieved it, and now this man is here asking for our help. If there’s any truth in his accusations, then you’re in direct violation of the Imperial Decree, and I’ll be forced to grant Urtan a status of de facto independence.”
“My lord! Certainly you can’t be serious! This man does not represent the people of Urtan! Where is this… this… Gaia who was supposed to correspond to these allegations?”
“Enough of this! This Council shall now decide the fate of Galadan—”
“That man is a liar and is a part of the insurgence!” a raspy voice thundered throughout the stadium.
The chatter amongst the judges stopped, and everyone stared at the speaker approaching the stage. The mutual moment of stillness revealed their fear as they recognized the man donned in formidable armor.
General Zeth walked past the spectators who backed away in horror.
“Don’t let his pitiful rail of mistreatment fool you,” Zeth continued, pointing at the Urtan while ascending the steps. “This man and his former king have deliberately harbored terrorists before the so-called invasion by the Order!”
“I don’t know what you speak of, my lord.” Galadan courteously bowed. “As Damien has clearly mentioned, I was imprisoned.”
“Don’t act so foolish, Galadan. I speak of the late conspirator Jamon Pestechinno and the intergalactic terrorist Oryon Krynne.”
“With all due respect,” Galadan replied modestly, “last I heard, Oryon Krynne was the Supreme General of the Grand Imperial Army.”
There were thousands of gasps, and the arena became silent again—not one of them could predict Zeth’s reaction.
“You insolent bastard,” Zeth whispered, clenching his fist. He stood several feet away from Galadan’s podi
um. With one swift blow, he could’ve sliced this reptile in half and ended that pathetic life for having the daring to insult him. Words cannot describe his urge to do just so, yet he restrained himself. Galadan would certainly die, yes, but not by his hand and most certainly not here with such an audience.
“Lord Zeth, this is not a military matter!” Vermont finally stood up, trying to control the general. But his attempt seemed more of a begging.
Zeth turned his attention to the committee.
“Please,” Vermont continued, “join me, and we shall further discuss these issues you speak of.” As Zeth proceeded to the entrance behind the tribunal, Vermont turned to the rest of the Senate and said, “The court’s in recess. We shall continue this topic upon my return.”
*
The general and the high chancellor met in the small room behind the tribunal.
“What is the meaning of this?” Vermont was the first to ask. “You cannot barge in on my trials! Your days of solving problems through violence are over!”
“People like this Galadan are vermin,” Zeth replied, ignoring Vermont’s cries. “Insidious scum that must be purged. Whoever gave him the right to speak?”
“But what if he’s right? Slavery? Sacrifice? We have been ignoring the Order for a long time. We must have liberty in every corner of this—”
“Liberty? At what cost? I hate that forsaken cult as well, but their sheer numbers are too large to ignore. These mindless freaks will fight as long as they’re alive, and nothing can change their view.”
“Consequently, they have to be dealt with—”
“You callow fool,” Zeth grinded. “You’re here to maintain the mass, not to upstart a war. Recognizing this Galadan will cause you problems in the future; I guarantee you.”
“But I—”
“We don’t have enough troops to maintain peace on barbaric outer planets.”
“By helping Galadan we’ll gain favor with the malcontent systems. People will view us as merciful, and it’ll be a step further in creating a per—”
“And make enemies with Damien Dark and his bigots?” Zeth raised his voice. “Make enemy with a strategic partner that has a massive army? They listen to us, because they fear us. Fear’s the only thing that keeps them under our control—that’s the only thing they understand. Now will they fear us if we bow down before the whims of some reptilians? Do you not agree with me, Sage Vermont?” Zeth bitterly punctuated the title, as if signifying the younger Xenian didn’t deserve it.
“Yes…”
“And what kind of precedent will Urtan’s recognition set? How many more systems will suddenly demand their independence, huh? Think, think! Your kindness to these petty creatures will bring forth the downfall of this Republic. Remember, trash like Galadan will always plot against us.”
Vermont sighed and stared down at the floor. “But why would Gaia bring this up before the Council if this case is of such small importance?”
“Oh, Senator Gaia? Well... because she’s a part of the Revolution.”
Vermont raised his chin, eyes wide. “What?”
“Place your trust in me. I received such intelligence from my sources.”
“What sources? She’s a member of my Council! You don’t have her apprehended, do you?”
“No. I don’t know where she is or how she’s connected to this, but I’ll certainly get to the bottom of that.”
“But that still doesn’t make sense…”
Zeth pointed his finger in Vermont’s face. “Drop this case… immediately.” After those words, he went past Vermont and exited the room through the other end.
Vermont clasped his head. Gaia, a part of the rebellion? he thought. There was no time to ponder that. Zeth was right, for he needed to do whatever was necessary to avoid war and any further conflicts. If Gaia were indeed a member of the insurgence, then this was just another step against the Republic that he long fought to maintain—and that was something he wouldn’t accept.
He straightened himself, preserving his flawless etiquette, and stepped back into the arena.
*
Everyone awaited the outcome of the case.
Galadan stood tall and proud despite the demeaning remarks from the audience.
Finally, Vermont and several of the other judges returned to the tribunal. He raised his hand, and the stadium hushed. “After a long debate with my peers, I’ve reached a solution,” he said. “There are ambassadors in this arena representing other systems of the Order. Does any one of you vouch for whatever accusation brought before us by Galadan Dox?”
The attention was turned to Damien Dark and the men behind him. The men simultaneously looked down without a sound. An immediate smirk appeared on Damien’s face.
Galadan lowered his head; all hope was lost.
“Is there anyone?” Vermont reiterated.
Once again, there was no response.
Vermont turned his attention back to Galadan. “Then, by the power of this court, I pass judgment upon you. Having been provided no considerable evidence, I will end this case. Galadan Dox, although we find you guilty of sedition, I’ll nevertheless provide you safe passage on one condition—”
“Have you no honor?” Galadan cried out indignantly.
“You will go back to Urtan,” Vermont continued, “disband your junta, and surrender to the forces of the Order. In the meantime—”
The crowd once again began to shout.
“—in the meantime”—Vermont raised his voice—“I’ll send peacekeeping forces to investigate your claims and assure the safety of Urtans during this exchange of powers.”
“We will not stand down!” Galadan shouted, looking at Damien. “We will not surrender! We will fight!”
“Then each and every one of you shall die!” Damien Dark barked into the microphone through the chaos motivated by the Urtan’s defiance. “I swear, Galadan, I swear by everything I stand for that before this is over, you’ll be bawling for mercy at my feet!”
“Settle down!” Vermont yelled out. “Galadan, if you take arms against the Order then they are within their full rights to settle this conflict by military means!”
Galadan looked around at the crowd that reviled him, slammed his golden staff, turned around, and walked away, accompanied by a series of death threats.
And just like that, within a few minutes, the fate of his world was decided.
*
Damien Dark entered his chambers. He automatically felt a foreign presence at the balcony behind the thick drapes. He turned to his group of clerics. “Leave.”
The hooded priests bowed and exited, their robes hissing on the marble floor.
The figure stepped out in the open.
“It was a close call, my lord,” Damien said.
“I won’t always be there to nurture you,” Zeth replied. “Your failure to silence Galadan almost caused a conflict. And now you lost Senator Gaia as well. You are lucky she couldn’t make it.”
“They managed to sweep her away from right under our nose,” Damien said, lowering his gaze to hide his shame. “Two young Xenians, along with a Dirsalian sharpshooter…”
“Oryon…” Zeth said scornfully. “I knew it. She is a part of the damned insurgence. But why would she risk it all to aid the Urtans? That answer still evades me…”
“What of Vermont?” Damien asked.
Zeth looked up. “Let me worry about Vermont. His peacekeepers shall never reach Urtan. This case will be forgotten.” He then went past the priest, stopped in the doorway, turned around, and said, “Galadan earned sympathy amongst the members of the Council with his riveting speech. That was Gaia’s plan. Make sure that never happens again. For your own survival, Damien Dark, and for the continued existence of your… Sect. This is the last time I’m telling you this.” He exited.
Damien bowed. He hated Zeth with the very essence of his soul but at the same time was terrified of him. There he was, the High Priest himself, bowing down before a Xenian warlo
rd. Nevertheless, the general was right: it was necessary to avoid war. And there was one man who was responsible for him going through this humility, and that man was Galadan. Now, there was only one thing on Damien’s mind… Galadan’s going to pay… oh, yes, he’s going to pay.
*
“I’m sorry, master,” Marz said.
“Would you stop with these apologies?” Na’ar replied as he stood by the window and observed the magnificence of his hometown in rainy weather. Telaton City. Home. He couldn’t call it home anymore because for the past twenty years he’d been traveling the galaxy, engaging in multiple battles, one after another—an empty circle that took over his life, was his life, until…
“It is my fault after all…” he said. “I should’ve expected they’d attack on Heradonn.”
“I thought they’d attempt the rescue on Xenon.”
Na’ar didn’t answer. He simply stared into nothingness as he had ever since the incident.
Marz cleared his throat. “Master, what’s the matter?”
Na’ar glanced up. “What?”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing…” Na’ar looked away. “Marz,” he said after a moment, “what do you know of those young men—the Krynne siblings?”
An odd look took over Marz’s face. “I know they’re brothers, however unlikely it might seem… and that they’re Oryon’s grandchildren.”
“Yes, but who are their parents?”
“I… always assumed Duell was their father,” Marz said, and then asked, “And Oryon did have a daughter, did he not?”
“Yes, he did…” Na’ar said, thinking of the past—the past he long sought to bury. It has been so long, so long… “And how old would you say they are?”
“Around my age, I assume. In their early twenties.”
“Early twenties…” Na’ar whispered. Could it be? No… impossible! How could they hide this from me?