Chapter 182: 182. The Trial (1)

The morning of the third day finally arrived with Guards entering the holding cells before dawn. Energy barriers deactivated. Restraints re-engaged.

“On your feet. Trial begins in one hour.”

Owen stood. His body was stiff from days of confinement. He stretched what little the restraints allowed.

Across the corridor, Gorvax rose without a word.

They were escorted through the station. Sterile corridors. Silent except for footsteps.

Other prisoners watched from their cells as they passed. Thoss. Vrinn. Yalira. Korvan. Their expressions ranged from sympathy to resignation.

Yalira called out: “Good luck, False Fist. Hopefully prison world is your final sentence and not execution!”

Owen nodded once.

The guards led them to a transport platform. A small vessel designed for short-range station travel. They were loaded inside. No windows. Just metal walls and the hum of engines.

The ride was brief. Five minutes. Maybe less.

The doors opened.

They had arrived.

—

The Tribunal Chamber was massive.

A perfect circle. A hundred meters in diameter. Tiered seating rose on all sides, filled with thousands of beings from across the cosmos. Observers. Witnesses. Representatives from countless worlds.

The noise was overwhelming. Voices overlapping. Languages blending. The murmur of a crowd that had come to see justice…or entertainment.

At the chamber’s center, a raised platform. Two podiums. One for the accused. One for the prosecutor.

Above, suspended in the air, five massive screens floated in a pentagon formation. Each screen showed an obscured projection; a silhouette behind shifting light, identity hidden.

The Five Judges.

Their voices would be altered. Their forms concealed. Only their authority was visible.

Owen was led to the accused podium. Gorvax beside him.

The guards stepped back.

The crowd’s murmur quieted.

Then silence.

One of the screens flickered. A voice spoke, it was Altered, Mechanical, But carrying absolute power.

“The Tribunal is now in session. Silence will be observed.”

The chamber obeyed instantly.

Another screen activated. A different voice. Equally distorted.

“Bring forth the accused.”

Kaelon stepped onto the prosecutor’s podium. His silver skin gleamed under the chamber’s lights. His circuit patterns pulsed faintly.

He gestured toward Owen and Gorvax.

“The Tribunal recognizes the accused. Gorvax of the Vexari. And the being known as ’False Fist,’ designation unknown.”

A third screen flickered. This voice was sharper and more clinical.

“State the charges.”

Kaelon tapped a control panel. Holographic displays appeared around the chamber, visible to all. Evidence. Documents. Images.

“Gorvax, the Sower. Charged with:

– Theft from a Noble Race vault, specifically the Progenitor vault.

– Illegal cosmic gardening across 47 lesser worlds.

– Mass harvesting resulting in 31 planetary extinctions.

– Resisting Tribunal authority for 500 standard years.

– Destruction of unauthorized cosmic experiments.”

The screens displayed images. Worlds burning. Populations collapsing. Death tolls scrolling upward. Cosmic energy signatures showing harvesting events across decades.

The crowd reacted. Whispers. Gasps. Disgust.

Kaelon continued.

“The being known as ’False Fist.’ Charged with:

– Accomplice to evading Tribunal justice.

– Aiding a known fugitive.

– Resisting Enforcer authority.”

The evidence was thinner. Owen’s mugshot. Recordings of him fighting alongside Gorvax during the escape from Kaelos. The confrontation with Enforcers.

One of the screens—the fourth—flickered.

The voice behind it was calm but curious.

“The second accused. What species are you?”

Owen kept his expression neutral. “Human. From a… lesser world?.”

“Lesser world designation?”

“It’s Not relevant to these charges….your honour?”

The screen pulsed. “Everything is relevant in this chamber.”

Owen’s jaw tightened. “My world has nothing to do with Gorvax’s crimes. I met him weeks ago. Whatever he did before that isn’t on me.”

A pause.

Then the fifth screen activated. This voice was deeper. More resonant.

“The accused is correct. His origin world is not material to the current charges. Proceed with the primary defendant.”

The fourth screen dimmed slightly. Acquiescing. But the curiosity remained.

Kaelon gestured to Gorvax.

“The Tribunal will now question the primary accused. Gorvax, you are charged with theft from the Progenitor vault. Do you deny this?”

Gorvax’s voice was flat. “No.”

“When did this theft occur?”

“500 standard years ago.”

“What did you steal?”

Silence.

Kaelon’s circuit patterns flared. “Answer the question.”

Gorvax’s hands clenched slightly. “Research equipment. Genetic preservation tools. Biological samples.”

The first screen spoke. “Specify the samples.”

Gorvax said nothing.

The second screen’s altered voice carried a sharp edge: “The vault inventory lists one item of significant value missing. A sealed vial. Contents: a pure genetic material from the Progenitor Matriarch. Irreplaceable and priceless. Do you possess this vial?”

Gorvax’s expression didn’t change. “No.”

“Where is it?”

“I don’t have it.”

The third screen’s voice sharpened. “That is not what was asked. WHERE. IS. IT.”

“I don’t know.”

The fourth screen pulsed brighter. “You stole it. You entered the vault. You bypassed Tier 3 security systems. You took the vial. You must know its location.”

Gorvax’s jaw tightened. “I took it. What I did with it after is my business.”

The first screen: “It became Tribunal business the moment you stole from a Noble Race. What did you do with the genetic material?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

The crowd murmured. Shock at the audacity.

The second screen: “Everything you do concerns this Tribunal. You stole the most valuable genetic sample in the cosmos. The Matriarch’s pure bloodline. We will know what became of it.”

Gorvax’s voice was cold. “Then keep wondering.”

Kaelon stepped forward, his silver skin gleaming with barely controlled anger. “Five hundred years. You’ve evaded us for five hundred years. You will answer for your crimes. Starting with the truth about the vial.”

“The truth?” Gorvax almost smiled. “The truth is I used what I needed. The rest is gone. Destroyed. Lost. Dispersed across the cosmos. Take your pick.”

The third screen: “Unacceptable.”

The fifth screen: “Did you use the genetic material to create something? A weapon perhaps? Or…. something else?”

Gorvax’s expression was unreadable. “That’s a very specific question. Almost like you already suspect something.”

“Answer it.”

“No.”

The first screen’s voice rose slightly. “Your refusal to cooperate will be noted. It will affect your sentencing.”

Gorvax shrugged as much as the restraints allowed. “Sentence me however you want. The vial is gone. That’s all you need to know.”

The screens flickered. Conferring silently.

Then the second screen spoke: “We will revisit this. But know this, Gorvax—if evidence emerges of what you did with that genetic material, your sentence will be revised. Accordingly.”

Gorvax said nothing.

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