High Arbiter Solenne Drax stands at the front, hands clasped behind her back, posture impeccable. She looks like she hasn’t slept in a week, but if she has, the exhaustion hasn’t made it past her eyes.
When she sees me, she tilts her head—just a fraction.
“Liaison Ardent,” she says, voice carrying. “Front row.”
I move toward her, the room parting like I’m contagious. Someone whispers, “That’s her,” and someone else whispers back, “Yeah. The leak girl,” as if I’m a scandal with legs.
I stop two steps in front of Drax, waiting.
She lowers her voice so only I can hear. “You’re trending again.”
“I’m honored,” I mutter.
Her mouth twitches—almost a smile, but it dies before it’s born. “This is not a time for gallows humor.”
“I’m not sure what else I have,” I say.
Drax’s gaze sharpens. “Then borrow mine. We are moving from individual negligence to systemic accountability. Today. Publicly.”
My stomach dips. “Publicly.”
“Yes.” She turns slightly, gesturing to the holopanels. “The Independent Oversight Panel has been formally established under emergency transparency statutes. The charter is already signed. The Senate tried to stall it. They failed.”
I blink. “They… failed?”
“Because the leak forced their hand,” she says, and there’s steel in her tone. “Because the broadcast made concealment impossible. Because the tribunal was about to become a martyr factory and everyone with half a brain realized what that would do to the ceasefire.”
A man in a dark civilian suit steps forward—a panel representative, maybe. His badge readsOversight Liaison: Kellan Mirov.
He nods at Drax, then looks at me. “Selene Ardent?”
I stiffen. “Yes.”
“Your anomaly flag triggered one of the mandatory statute clauses,” he says, almost like he’s explaining weather. “Yourdocumentation of a timestamp variance under an active prosecution—paired with evidence of unlogged access attempts—meets threshold for emergency independent review.”
My mouth goes dry. “So… that’s real. This is happening.”
“It is,” he says. “Subpoenas were issued this morning for Admiral Caedrin Vol’s full classified directives, including casualty modeling drafts and authorization signature chains.”
Hearing it out loud makes my skin go cold. Subpoenas. Classified directives. Casualty modeling drafts.
Words that mean:we’re not whispering anymore; we’re kicking doors in.
A sharp laugh bursts from someone behind me—high, brittle. “Good luck prying anything out of Vol’s vaults.”
Drax turns her head like a blade. “We are not asking for luck. We are invoking statute.”
The laughter dies instantly.
Mirov continues, voice steady. “Additionally, Lieutenant Garran Hale has been formally reviewed and cleared of malicious intent. The panel confirms his routing authorization did not include corridor displacement authority.”
The room shifts, like a collective exhale.
My chest tightens—not with relief exactly, but with something complicated and aching. Garran’s name has been dragged through this mess like a body behind a vehicle. He didn’t deserve it.
Drax’s eyes flick to me again. “You will be present at the press statement,” she says. “You will stand behind me.”
“Why?” My voice cracks slightly, and I hate it. “So they can point at me like a cautionary tale?”
