“I isolated the recalibration window,” I reply. “And I extracted authorization metadata.”
His eyebrow lifts slightly. “Did you.”
I gesture toward the projection. “The override carries a valid League command signature. High-level operational clearance.”
He steps closer, hands clasped behind his back, posture relaxed in a way that is almost insulting. He studies the metadata for a long moment without speaking.
The lab hums around us.
Finally, he exhales softly. “Yes. Wartime adjustments often carry League relay signatures when joint operations are underway.”
“This was not a joint command sector,” I say evenly. “Coalition Fleet Command retained evacuation authority.”
“Authority can be shared under exigent circumstances,” he counters smoothly. “Bombardment creates exigency.”
I feel heat creep into my neck, but I keep my voice steady. “This recalibration altered the corridor alignment into artillery range.”
“And yet,” Thane says, turning to look at me fully now, his eyes sharp and unblinking, “Commander Varos maintained command responsibility.”
“That’s not what I’m arguing,” I reply, and my fingers tighten involuntarily against the edge of the console. “I’m arguing that the prosecution’s reconstruction excludes a valid League override.”
He tilts his head slightly, studying me the way a surgeon studies a patient who thinks they understand anatomy. “Liaison Ardent, the negligence charge pertains to the corridor utilized during evacuation. Whether that utilization included routine wartime adjustment does not alter the defendant’s duty of care.”
“Routine?” I repeat, and I hear the incredulity in my voice before I can mask it. “Twelve minutes after issuance, under blackout conditions, with a League command signature?—”
“Routine,” he says again, firmer now. “Wartime environments are dynamic. Commanders adjust.”
“This wasn’t his adjustment,” I say.
His gaze sharpens. “Be careful.”
The warning is quiet but unmistakable.
“Be careful of what?” I ask, and the colloquial edge slips in before I can stop it. “Looking at the data?”
“Of mistaking curiosity for advocacy,” he replies.
The words hit harder than I expect.
“I am not advocating for anyone,” I say, my voice colder now. “I am reconstructing events.”
Thane’s expression softens into something almost pitying. “You are young, Liaison. It is easy to become entangled in details and lose sight of the broader charge. The tribunal is not litigating inter-alliance friction. It is litigating negligent evacuation command.”
“And if the friction is the negligence?” I press.
He straightens slightly. “You are overreaching.”
“No,” I say quietly. “I’m following the record.”
For a long moment, we stand in silence, the projection hovering between us like a live wire.
Finally, Thane sighs faintly. “Enter your findings into the archive. They will be reviewed in due course.”
“In due course,” I repeat, and I know it sounds like an accusation.
He meets my gaze without flinching. “Do not let personal history distort procedural boundaries.”
The implication hangs heavy.
