The Genesis Saga Chapter 220

Once her speech ca to an end and she was no longer on display to the public, Nessah slumped in her chair. A bone-deep exhaustion had settled over the last few months, and she was looking forward to her first full night’s rest since the beginning of the war. She relished the thought.

“Now what?” Orryn asked quietly. Certain that the Tribunal was once more in complete privacy, she shared her thoughts on her newfound emptiness now that their purpose had been fulfilled. “The war is over,” she said bluntly. “There’s no need for a War Tribunal anymore. We’ve served our purpose. Normally, the civil governnt would resu its duties, but it collapsed.”

“The War Tribunal should remain in effect for the ti being,” Darros harrumphed. “A scramble for new leadership is not conducive to stability at this ti. The world needs direction and purpose. We’re the only surviving governing body that can provide that.”

“Will the public accept that?” Orryn asked. “We already unilaterally imposed our will upon them. I doubt they’re going to suffer it a second ti. A rebellion might actually happen this ti.”

“We’re the ones with the weapons,” Darros said, waving off her concern. “We might not be able to maintain our power indefinitely, but by then we’ll have consolidated a much larger foothold than previously.”

Nessah frowned. “What do you an?” she asked.

“We make use of our current authority to begin rebuilding our society,” Darros said. “Our old way of doing things simply won’t be effective for how much work needs to be done. We’ll use the military to oversee construction so that we can incorporate proper defenses in all of our cities.”

“Isn’t that a bit much? The war is over,” Nessah said. “Is there truly such a need to increase our defenses so drastically?”

“There’s always a need!” Darros exclaid. “There will always be another war. Maybe against a new species or the remaining factions. We’re weak right now and much of our industries are offline. Our fleet was decimated and our planetary shields were destroyed. If we get attacked now, we won’t be able to defend ourselves.”

“Will the rest of the world see things that way?” Orryn asked.

“Frankly,” Darros spat, “I don’t care what they think anymore. Our job is to keep our people safe. There’s literally no better opportunity to improve our defensibility since we’re starting from scratch. If we remake things properly, then maybe the next war we fight will go better and our people won’t be subject to unstoppable wide-spread destruction. Pointless red tape is the last thing we need.”

“Let’s put it to a vote,” Nessah sighed. “All those in favour of maintaining our status as the War Tribunal for the ti being, vote now.” The vote passed, with only Orryn being against. Nessah nodded. “So it has been decreed. We will continue to protect our people until we are no longer defenseless.”

“Is there a sunset clause for this?” Orryn asked.

“No,” Nessah replied. “But an Elder may bring forth the matter at any ti for a vote to abdicate our power.”

Orryn’s expression soured. “That’s thinly veiled tyranny!” she said. “People are going to notice.”

“And what will they do about it?” Darros challenged. Orryn opened her mouth to speak, but closed it, knowing that there was nothing the average person could feasibly do. “That’s what I thought,” Darros said when Orryn refused to et his gaze.

The Elders promptly devolved into an hour-long discussion on how best to rebuild their society, with nobody agreeing on another’s vision. “There are still other matters we need to take care of,” Cirrus interrupted, unable to take the bickering any longer. “We still need to decide what to do about Kaius.”

“Isn’t that already taken care of?” Maraz asked. “He was sanctioned and removed from his position.”

Cirrus shook her head. “That was only temporary. Nessah’s tenure as War Arbiter was nothing but a stopgap asure during a crisis. Kaius went against a unanimous edict to research the most vile chemical in history. That’s no small cri.”

“That research is what saved all of us,” Maraz pointed out. “Without it, we wouldn’t have won the war.”

“Even though I agree with you,” Cirrus said, “it doesn’t change the fact that he knowingly went behind our backs. Normally, our sanctions would be enough. But in this case, it directly led to the most disgusting war cri ever committed by us. The public won’t accept that he gets off without any consequences.”

“Now you care about the public?” Darros scoffed. “Since when?” he mocked. “All we need to do is cent Nessah’s position as Arbiter — and War Arbiter by extension — and Kaius will no longer hold a position of authority again.”

“You wanted to maintain our power,” Cirrus said, shaking her head. “We need to show that we still have it. Publicly putting Kaius on trial for his cris would be a great way to do so.”

“And what of our cris?” Orryn asked. “Kaius might have sanctioned the research, but we’re the ones who ordered live experintation with it and used it to destroy an entire planet! Glassing the gru’ul would have been a better fate!”

Cirrus chewed her lip, pondering how best to avoid facing a worse fate than Kaius. “What we did was a necessity,” she ultimately said. “We acknowledge our fault but pardon ourselves uniquely this one ti. Ratify into law that no other use of orange chemical will ever be tolerated unless in the face of total annihilation. And even then, its use shall require a unanimous War Tribunal vote. Future Elders after us will not be able to justify its use unless the War Tribunal is in power. That should make it more difficult to abuse.”

Orryn’s expression darkened. “That still leaves the possibility of using the chemical again in the future.” She was not happy about the idea. Already, it had been abused during the war. She had no desire to see it abused again, regardless of the situation. “We should destroy any information we have on it to prevent it from being spread.”

“That will never happen and you know it,” Cirrus replied, shaking her head. “The best we can do is seal it to the highest echelons of power and make it inaccessible to any other. We guard the facility that synthesized it with our lives. I agree that we cannot allow the knowledge to spread. Which is why we need to have a no tolerance attitude if sohow another person gets their hands on it and uses it on another unless in the most dire of circumstances.”

“I still don’t understand why we don’t simply destroy it,” Orryn pushed.

“We don’t even know how to properly dispose of it!” Cirrus exclaid. “I refuse to destroy our most potent weapon. I agree it should be a last resort, but we can’t turn a blind eye to a tool that could deter our enemies in such an absolute fashion.”

“While my heart agrees with Orryn,” Darros said, “we can’t ignore Cirrus’ points.” He humd in thought for a mont. He turned to Nessah. “I propose another vote,” he said, “to determine how to handle the chemical.”

“Very well,” Nessah said. “Those in favour of Cirrus’ points, vote now.” It took ten minutes before she was forced to call a tie. She heaved a heavy sigh. “Once again, it falls to to determine how to handle the chemical,” she said. “At the end of the day, we are the military. I agree with Cirrus’ points, even though as a person I am disgusted that such evil shall taint future generations of a’vaare. However, we’ve co too far to simply pretend it never happened.”

“And about Kaius?” Cirrus asked.

“It would certainly be hypocritical of us to convict him given that we’ve done worse,” Nessah said. “We’ll do so anyway. Kaius will be charged with intent to commit the highest cri against the living, regardless of the reasons he may have had to do so. His staff will be absolved, for they were unaware of what they were doing under his orders until it was too late. I propose we officially strip him of his powers and sentence him to house arrest for the foreseeable future.”

“I guess that will have to do,” Cirrus said. “So long as we make it a public spectacle, that should be enough. Nothing will really change for him, but at least it will provide the illusion of power and consequences to the people.”

“Agreed,” Nessah said. “However, the public will be hard pressed to understand why we’re doling out such a light punishnt. They lack the context, for we kept them in the dark for years.”

“How will we make them agree to our actions, then?” Cirrus asked.

“We declassify what happened during the war,” Nessah proposed. “History deserves to understand why such a tragedy occurred.” The other Elders sputtered out in anger against having their inner workings aired to the public. Such a thing had never been done before. Nessah raised a hand to silence them. “I understand your concerns. We will not give away truly sensitive information, but rather selective pieces of it.”

“Will the public even believe what we tell them?” Orryn asked. “Or will they dismiss it as propaganda?”

Nessah smiled. “We won’t be the ones to handle this,” she said. “The face of the war will.”

Orryn drumd her fingers on the desk. “If Reya discloses the information, then people will probably react better to it,” she said thoughtfully.

“Exactly,” Nessah said. “Her and our friendly reporter have beco icons to the nation. Their words have a different weight than ours do. The two of them will be able to deliver the ssage we want everyone to hear.”

“And what ssage is that?” Orryn asked.

“That we are guilty of failing our people,” Nessah grinned, “but that every asure we took was justified for them let us live to have a history to frown upon. If we hadn’t done things the way we did, we would have all been destroyed. Though we are imperfect, we did the best we could with the tools we had. And then, once they understand, we will ask for their forgiveness,” she said. “And once we get it, nobody will challenge our power again.”

***

Cloistered away in the safest location they could find, Mihn stared numbly at the holoscreen before her. It had returned back to its original broadcast, although now the news channel they’d been watching was fervently discussing Nessah’s victory speech.

Annkor likewise remained silent beside her, failing to keep his disbelief from his face. All of the defected soldiers were gathered in the main living room, for they too had witnessed the historical speech. For a mont, no one spoke. Nobody knew how to react.

“Is it true?” a quiet voice piped up. The soldier was staring directly at Annkor, uncertain. All heads imdiately swiveled towards Annkor, waiting to hear what he had to say.

A beat passed before he spoke up. “Lies!” he denounced. “The Tribunal is surely lying. There’s no way the war has ended so suddenly. Until just yesterday, every news channel reported the destruction of a different city. This is nothing more than attempt to fool us into complacency.”

“That was yesterday,” the sa soldier said. “Today, there were no reports of any gru’ul activity. The reporter was even ntioning how strange it was!” he said. “We all saw that explosion two weeks ago! It must have been a mothership.”

“The Tribunal would never make that kind of announcent if it weren’t true!” another soldier said.

“What happens to us now?” Mihn asked fearfully, the sentint rippling across the room and infecting everyone present. “Is there any way we can escape to your faction’s world?” she asked Annkor desperately.

“Of course there is,” Annkor said with more confidence than he felt. “As soon as my people send another diplomatic envoy, your Tribunal will have no choice but to allow us safe passage. They cannot risk another war when they are so weak.”

Murmurs of agreent broke out between the soldiers. Even Mihn looked hopeful. The Rukkan would have no choice but to accept her as well. After all, she helped spread the gods’ words. As a proper a’vaare should. Unlike the rest of her non-believing faction.

Before anybody else could speak up, the door to their hideout was blown inwards and a concussive boom from the explosives had everyone reaching for their weapons. Soldiers fully kitted in combat gear stord the hideout, guns hot and aid at the rebels. Everybody froze upon realizing how outnumbered they were.

Iral strode into the room once she received the all-clear. “You are all under arrest for treason!” she declared. “Co peacefully or die here. It makes no difference to us.”

“I am High Diplomat Annkor,” Annkor said regally as he stepped forward. “You cannot try for treason. I am not a part of your faction. I demand you deliver us to my people.” He flashed a cold smile. “Or is another war what you want?”

Iral stared at Annkor before breaking out in a laughing fit at the absurdity of the request. It was unprofessional, she knew. But how could she not in the face of such obliviousness? Annkor’s smile faltered for a mont, but he held strong, confident that his demands would be t.

When Iral realized that the man before her was wholly serious, her deanor changed. “You don’t know,” she realized.

“Know what?” Annkor demanded. He was growing tired of this farce. It was ti he was afforded the respect his station deserved.

“The Rukkan faction no longer exists,” Iral revealed. “Your ho planet was glassed by the gru’ul during the war.”

“Lies!” Annkor shouted. “There’s no way we would have been attacked. The gru’ul took issue with your faction, not mine.”

“I don’t care what you believe,” Iral said harshly. “Nobody is coming to save you. You have no people to return to. You are no longer a High Diplomat, but rather an escaped criminal. You and yours led an insurrection during the most perilous ti in our entire history. Did you think there wouldn’t be consequences?” she asked. “Put them in cuffs and get them out of my sight,” she ordered her troops.

Knowing that no good would co from resisting arrest, the soldiers who had defected to Annkor’s cause put down their weapons and put their hands in the air. They hoped that the military would have so leniency on them if them went peacefully. Only Mihn and Annkor truly struggled.

“Unhand you brutes!” Mihn scread as she was pinned down on the ground and her hands were brought behind her back. Special cuffs were slapped on her, with the soldier doing so caring little for her comfort.

Iral’s soldiers led the procession of captives out of the safe house, with Mihn and Annkor being the last to exit the building. The harsh sunlight blinded Mihn montarily while her eyes adjusted. Once they did, she noticed the news crew waiting a safe distance away and saw a face every a’vaare was familiar with.

“The faction’s newest enemies have successfully been apprehended,” Miarre said towards the caras, her voice carrying loud enough for Mihn to make out. “Since the beginning of the war, Mihn Ayala and High Diplomat Annkor have incited insurrection around the world, forcing the military to respond when they otherwise could have been protecting us.”

Mihn blanched upon hearing the reporter’s words, and a sick feeling churned in her chest. If she was truly an enemy of the faction, there would be no trial. The soldier behind her gave her a rough shove when she stopped to listen in on what else Miarre had to say.

Mihn woodenly continued her walk of sha towards the car that would soon whisk her away while Miarre continued her report. This was not how she wanted to be rembered. She was more than so petty criminal! Right as she stepped into the car, she settled her gaze on Miarre, who was no longer facing the caras but her instead. A vicious smile was plastered on Miarre’s face, visible only to her. It was a knowing smile that told Mihn all she needed to know about her fate.

It was also the last thing she saw before the door slamd shut and the car drove off to an undisclosed location.