EARTH WARRIORChapter 78: The Tribunal
The Council convened at dawn.
Not regular session.
Emergency tribunal.
Closed doors.
Maximum security.
Korrin arrived confident—still unaware the trap had closed.
Kurogane watched from the observation gallery.
Not participant.
Witness.
Lightning hummed quietly.
This is it.
One way or another.
0600 Hours – Charges Read
Valen stood at the chamber center.
Expression grave.
"Representative Korrin," he began formally. "You are hereby called to answer charges of unauthorized information sharing, conspiracy to manipulate military operations, and treason against Council authority."
The words landed like hammer strikes.
Korrin's face went pale.
Then red.
"This is absurd—" he began.
"You will have opportunity to respond," Valen interrupted. "After evidence is presented."
Mizuki stepped forward.
Activated the central display.
Financial records appeared.
"Over the past six months," she said, "you transferred 2.3 million through intermediary accounts to shell corporations in neutral territory."
"Perfectly legal investments—"
"Owned by Valdris Kren," Mizuki continued, voice cutting through his protest. "Former Council Liaison. Discharged for unauthorized information sharing eight years ago."
Korrin's jaw clenched.
"I wasn't aware of Valdris's history—"
"Your personal correspondence proves otherwise," Masako interjected.
She activated a second display.
Older communications.
Dating back years.
"You've been in contact with Valdris since his discharge," Masako said. "Thirteen documented exchanges. All encrypted. All using channels designed to avoid official monitoring."
"Professional consulting—"
"Is not conducted through intelligence-grade encryption," Mizuki said.
She pulled the intercepted message from yesterday.
INVESTIGATION ACTIVE. AUDIT FLAGGED Q3 TRANSFERS.
TIMELINE COMPRESSED. REQUIRE IMMEDIATE COUNTER-MEASURE.
VALIDATE STRATEGIC VALUE OR TERMINATE ARRANGEMENT.
"This message," Mizuki said, "sent yesterday at 1943 hours. From your personal relay. To Valdris Kren's proxy network."
Korrin stared.
"How did you—"
He stopped.
Too late.
"How did we intercept your communication?" Valen asked. "Is that what you were going to ask?"
Silence.
"The question itself is admission," Valen continued. "If the message was innocent, you wouldn't be surprised we have it."
Korrin's expression shifted.
Calculation replacing shock.
"I want legal representation," he said.
"You're entitled to it," Valen agreed. "But evidence presentation continues."
Mizuki activated a third display.
Tactical overlay.
Enemy attack patterns.
Korrin's payment dates.
"Every financial transfer," she said, "correlates with increased enemy coordination. Not immediately. Seventy-two to ninety-six hours later."
Red markers pulsed.
"Six transfers," Mizuki continued. "Six corresponding escalations. Statistical probability of coincidence: less than 0.03%."
"Correlation isn't causation—" Korrin began.
"No," Masako agreed. "Which is why we cross-referenced enemy tactics with Council briefings."
She pulled classified documents.
"Each escalation," Masako said, "exploited weaknesses discussed in closed sessions. Weaknesses you had access to through civilian oversight."
"That proves nothing—"
"It establishes pattern," Masako interrupted. "Combined with financial transfers, encrypted communications, and yesterday's message—it establishes clear intent."
Korrin stood abruptly.
"I refuse to participate in this witch hunt—"
"Sit down," Valen said. Not loud. Not angry.
Absolute.
Korrin hesitated.
Then sat.
Lightning stirred.
He's trapped.
Not yet.
Trapped people are dangerous.
Masako continued.
"The most damning evidence," she said, "is this."
She activated a final display.
Internal Council memo.
Written by Korrin.
Three weeks ago.
RECOMMENDATION: ACCELERATE PRESSURE ON STRATEGIC RESERVE
METHOD: INCREASE FRONT-LINE CASUALTIES TO CRITICAL THRESHOLD
TIMELINE: FORCE DEPLOYMENT WITHIN 14 DAYS
JUSTIFICATION: ESTABLISH LIGHTNING DOCTRINE PRECEDENT
Silence.
Absolute.
Even Korrin seemed stunned.
"That memo," Masako said quietly, "was never officially filed. It was found in your personal archive. Encrypted. Hidden."
"But recoverable," Mizuki added. "Because you saved drafts."
Korrin's face drained of color.
"This memo," Valen said, "combined with financial transfers to enemy intelligence operative, combined with attack pattern correlation, combined with yesterday's intercepted communication—"
He paused.
"—constitutes overwhelming evidence of deliberate manipulation resulting in Council casualties for personal agenda."
"That's treason," Akihiko said. Voice hard.
"Yes," Valen agreed.
Korrin stood again.
"I won't—you can't—"
"We can," Valen interrupted. "And we have."
He gestured.
Security personnel entered.
"Representative Korrin," Valen said formally, "you are hereby stripped of oversight authority, pending full tribunal. You will be detained under Council custody until proceedings conclude."
"This is political persecution—"
"This is accountability," Masako said.
Security moved forward.
Korrin looked around the chamber.
At faces that had once supported him.
Now turning away.
"You're making a mistake," he said. "Lightning needs control. Without structure, without doctrine—"
"We have structure," Valen interrupted. "It's called Strategic Reserve. And it works precisely because it's not what you wanted."
Korrin's expression twisted.
"He deployed to Sector Nine," Korrin said, gesturing toward the observation gallery. Toward Kurogane. "That proves my point. Lightning can be used. Should be used."
"On his terms," Masako replied. "Not yours."
"The difference is semantic!"
"The difference," Valen said quietly, "is that he deployed to save lives. You manipulated war to prove a thesis."
"Same outcome—"
"No," Mizuki said. "Your manipulation cost 1,047 lives. His deployment saved 200. Those aren't equivalent."
Korrin had no response.
Security escorted him out.
Struggling.
Protesting.
Voice fading down the corridor.
The chamber doors closed.
Silence settled.
Heavy.
Final.
Lightning pulsed.
It's over.
His part is.
But?
War continues.
Casualties continue.
Choices continue.
Just without his manipulation.
Valen looked up at the observation gallery.
At Kurogane.
"You can come down," he said.
Main Chamber – 0645 Hours
Kurogane descended.
The Council members watched him approach.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Just... attentive.
"Korrin's manipulation is ended," Valen said. "But his influence remains. Other sectors have requested your deployment. Using Sector Nine as precedent."
"I'm aware," Kurogane replied.
"How do you intend to respond?"
"Case by case," Kurogane said. "Like Sector Nine. Independent assessment. Limited engagement when appropriate. Refusal when not."
"That's vague," Akihiko said.
"It's honest," Kurogane corrected. "I can't establish guidelines because circumstances differ. Sector Nine needed precision support. Other sectors might need something else. Or nothing."
"That's too much authority—" Akihiko began.
"It's the authority Strategic Reserve requires," Masako interrupted. "We established the classification for exactly this reason. Lightning can't be managed institutionally."
"So one person decides?" Akihiko challenged.
"One person with lightning decides," Mizuki corrected. "That's the only coherent approach."
Valen raised a hand.
"This debate is familiar," he said. "We've had it repeatedly. Korrin's removal doesn't change fundamental reality—Kurogane has capability we can't control. Only influence."
"Through what?" Akihiko asked.
"Through his judgment," Valen replied. "Which, so far, has been sound."
He looked at Kurogane.
"Sector Nine was professional," Valen continued. "Restrained. Effective. That's what we needed to see."
"To prove what?" Kurogane asked.
"That deployment doesn't mean domination," Valen said. "That Strategic Reserve can engage without establishing the precedent we feared."
"And now?"
"Now," Valen said, "we trust your judgment. You assess requests. You decide. We support your decisions—but we don't make them for you."
Akihiko looked unhappy.
"This creates accountability gap—"
"No," Masako said. "It creates appropriate responsibility. Kurogane acts. Kurogane owns outcomes. That's cleaner than institutional decision-making with individual execution."
"What if he's wrong?" Akihiko pressed.
"Then he's wrong," Valen said simply. "And we address it. But preemptive control isn't answer."
Lightning stirred.
They're trusting us.
Not fully.
But more than before.
"Understand," Valen said to Kurogane, "that this isn't unlimited authority. We'll monitor. We'll review. We'll intervene if necessary."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Valen challenged. "Because Korrin manipulated you through casualties. Others will try different methods. Emotional appeals. Moral arguments. Political pressure."
"I know."
"Can you resist?"
Kurogane met his gaze.
"I deployed to Sector Nine," he said, "because assessment indicated it was right choice. I'll refuse the next request if assessment indicates it's wrong choice. That distinction is all that matters."
"And if assessment is difficult?" Valen asked.
"Then I'll make difficult decisions," Kurogane replied. "Like everyone else."
Silence stretched.
Finally, Valen nodded.
"Then we're clear," he said. "Strategic Reserve continues. Autonomous assessment maintained. Korrin's manipulation ends."
The Council members exchanged glances.
Some satisfied.
Some uncertain.
All accepting.
"Meeting adjourned," Valen said.
Aftermath – 0800 Hours
Kurogane left the Council chamber.
Found Raishin waiting in the corridor.
"Korrin's finished," Raishin said.
"Yes."
"How do you feel?"
Kurogane considered.
"Relieved," he said. "But not free. War continues. Requests continue. Choices continue."
"Yes," Raishin agreed. "But now they're honest. Not manufactured."
"Does that make them easier?"
"No," Raishin replied. "Just clearer."
They walked in silence.
Finally, Raishin spoke.
"Sector Nine changed something," he said.
"What?"
"You stopped asking if you should deploy," Raishin replied. "Started asking when."
"Is that bad?"
"It's evolution," Raishin said. "From absolute refusal to conditional engagement. From never to when necessary."
"Raiketsu went through that evolution," Kurogane said quietly.
"Yes," Raishin agreed. "But he didn't maintain distinction. By deployment eight, necessary became convenient. Then convenient became default."
"I won't let that happen."
"Can you promise that?"
Kurogane stopped walking.
"No," he admitted. "But I can try. Every single time."
Raishin nodded slowly.
"That's all anyone can do," he said.
They reached the junction.
Raishin went toward training facilities.
Kurogane toward his quarters.
Lightning hummed quietly.
Korrin's gone.
Manipulation ended.
What changes?
Context.
Requests will be honest now.
Crises will be real.
Choices will be ours.
Is that better?
Kurogane didn't know.
Honest pressure might be harder than manufactured.
Because manufactured could be resisted on principle.
Honest required judgment.
Assessment.
Decisions that might be wrong.
But they'd be his.
Not someone else's agenda.
Not manipulation.
Just war.
And the impossible choices it created.
One deployment at a time.
Until—
He didn't know what.
Until pattern emerged.
Until distinction blurred.
Until Strategic Reserve meant something different.
Or until he learned to carry it.
Indefinitely.
Without breaking.
Without becoming what he'd refused to be.
Time would tell.
But for now—
Korrin was finished.
Manipulation ended.
And Strategic Reserve continued.
Autonomous.
Accountable.
Impossible.