April 19, 2363 AIA

P2

The somber group of men and women filed in from both sides of the room and took their places at the long table. Somehow, none of them managed to look up until they were all seated and had their various materials in front of them. Only then did they raise their eyes to the two men still standing at the small table before them.

The man in the center of the long table pulled his microphone closer.

“Good morning.”

It sounded like a dead statement of fact. There was no greeting in it and certainly no friendly wish. It was a good morning. The man had said so.

He went on, “This is day one of the hearing regarding the events that took place on Ionu approximately one OE month ago, and the subsequent declaration of martial law by Sheriff Jun Fenn. You may sit down.”

When Tate and Fenn had finished pulling their chairs up to the table, the judge folded his fingers together and laid his hands on his desk in front of him. When he spoke, he sounded less sure of himself and very grumpy about it.

“While this case may have some…unique…and interesting elements, I hope we can dispatch it with our usual efficiency. Sheriff Fenn, are you here to represent your own report?”

“Yes, sir. And may I say, I also hope we can get this over with efficiently.”

The judge’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Is there any particular reason why?”

“I’d like to get back to Ionu.”

One of the women on the left of the table leaned forward. “I thought Ashtell had already sent representatives and replacements.”

“It has, ma’am. I’m more concerned about the temporary sheriff the Supremacy sent as my replacement. He says he sunburns easily.”

“After all this”—a different judge waved his tablet—“you intend to go back?”

“My deputy and I have a lot of work to do.”

The hearing leader spoke up. “Ah, yes. Your deputy. Would you like to introduce us? We’re not sure what he should be called.”

Fenn motioned to the man beside him. “Your Honors, this man is my deputy, Joseph Tate.”

Tate smiled and raised a hand in greeting. No one smiled back.

“He was born on the free-plane P52 as Joyner Tate Howell to Lily Diane Howell, who, despite her choice of names, claimed to love him.”

Tate watched to see if anyone would snicker, but you were only hired to be a Supremacy hearing judge if you could prove you had no sense of humor.

Fenn finished by saying, “He changed his name to Joseph Tate when he felt an alias would be useful.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“This alias—you’re talking about when he left the Uprising.”

“That’s correct, sir.”

“But that’s not how he introduced himself to you.”

“No, sir. He introduced himself to me as Tyler Creed, in case any notes had been attached to the alias he’d been living under.”

“And you still want this man to be your deputy? A man with not one, but two illegal aliases, who used to work for the Rising?”

“I don’t blame him for wanting to change his name. I think being christened Joyner would be enough to make any man desperate.”

“The name isn’t our first concern, Sheriff!”

“He’s a good deputy, sir. He came to me already trained.”

“Yes. By the Rising.”

“Which was a savings to the Supremacy.”

The hearing leader opened his mouth as if to say something, but he seemed to think better of it. He rubbed his forehead and grumbled, “You claim his involvement in the war dates back further than the current statute of limitations, but if that’s true and whether or not your deputy has other crimes to answer for will have to be determined later. Right now we need to address the main point of this hearing. Jun Fenn, we’ve all received copies of your report. As you can imagine, we have questions. I hope you have answers.”

“Yes, sir. And evidence. In case my answers aren’t enough.”

“Let’s get the obvious question over with. Sheriff, how can you possibly expect us to believe any of this?”

“That would be the evidence previously mentioned, Your Honor.”

The hearing leader turned his head and muttered, “Doctor?”

The woman next to him took off her glasses and wearily pulled her microphone closer. “I don’t know what to tell you, Kahn.”

“You looked at the body.”

“I did. It’s not human.”

A quiet babble flowed around the long table, but where it originated would’ve been hard to pin down.

The doctor continued, “I can’t tell you if everything in Sheriff Fenn’s report is true, but nothing I was presented with would indicate he’s lying, and”—here she glanced at Fenn—“it certainly makes his claims more credible.”

One judge, the youngest of them, said, “He admits half his evidence comes from the Rising!”

Both of Fenn’s hands hit the table when he leaned forward. “Your Honor, I object to the use of the term ‘admits.’ I was not pressed for the information, and there’s no reason I would withhold it. Some of the reports did come from the Uprising military records, but they were only custodians of the files created by General Fable and General Gardner. Experts have proven they’re genuine.”

“Why would the Rising have classified Supremacy files?” the young judge returned.

“I didn’t ask. Given that we’re currently at war with them, I thought it was unnecessary.”

“What?”

“Aren’t we doing everything possible to steal their classified information?”

“You’re working with them!”

The hearing leader slapped his gavel against the sounding block. “Thank you, Fenton.”

The young judge sat back.

Kahn pushed the gavel away as if he found the thing distasteful. To Fenn, he said, “While Judge Fenton’s passion might be misplaced, I believe his accusation deserves an answer, Sheriff.”

“How so?”

“Were you working with the Rising?”

“To the extent outlined in my report, and not one millimeter further, Your Honor.”

“Some would say that makes your evidence suspect.”

“Sir, others would say the fact the Rising was willing to work with me is the best possible proof of how important this matter is. We’re used to thinking the war is the most important thing in the galaxy, but there are threats and concerns out there that involve all of us, and it’s more important than what side we’re on.”

The judge sighed. “Sheriff, must I remind you this is a secured hearing? You have no audience. Please spare us your speeches.”

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In every part of the galaxy, across every planet, the signal rolled out. Millions of people saw Jun Fenn bow his head and say, “Yes, Your Honor.” Billions more would watch the recording later. Only a few people were too busy to care about what was going on; they were frantically trying to figure out where the signal was hidden.

Ciro watched the proceedings from only two planets away. He was tucked behind a massive array of computers.

As he raised his mug to his lips, he muttered, with no one around to hear him, “He’s not supposed to have an audience.”

He sipped his coffee and grinned.