“Tell them the truth,” I say. “I did.”
Pellorin exhales, long and slow. “Rhyx… you’re forcing the tribunal into cross-jurisdiction review.”
“I’m forcing them to look at the seam,” I correct. “They can’t keep stapling it shut.”
He pauses, eyes searching mine through holo distortion. “You’re going to have to say it on record.”
“I know,” I say, and the calm in my voice is not serenity so much as readiness. “Put me in the chamber.”
It takes less time than I expect, which is its own kind of warning. The tribunal does not move quickly unless it believes it can control the outcome, and when custody officers arrive to escort me, their posture is tighter than usual, their faces more carefully blank.
The chamber is louder now, buzzing with the restless energy of a crowd that has smelled scandal and wants its meal. Drax sits at the bench with an expression carved from discipline, Thane’s eyes are sharp with irritation, and the gallery is packed withobservers whose compads glow like clustered stars. Broadcast drones hover lower, eager.
When they bring me to the stand for a procedural statement, I feel the field hum around me again, and I can taste the heat from projection rigs overhead as they warm, preparing to cast whatever narrative the tribunal will attempt next.
Drax speaks first, voice calm. “Commander Varos, counsel has filed notice invoking Coalition oversight provisions under ceasefire accords. The tribunal acknowledges receipt. Before we proceed, you will state your position for the record.”
Thane rises immediately, voice smooth. “High Arbiter, we object to any further expansion. The prosecution?—”
Drax lifts a hand. “Noted. Commander Varos will speak.”
I inhale once, slowly, and let my gaze travel across the chamber, not lingering on faces because faces are distractions, but on the architecture of power—benches, drones, observers, the clean lines of authority designed to look inevitable.
“I will not withdraw inquiry,” I say, and my voice carries, resonant and steady, filling the chamber without needing amplification. “I will not accept accelerated sentencing on an incomplete record, and I will not participate in a narrative that compresses critical intervals into convenient silence.”
A murmur rises, quickly contained.
I continue, letting each clause land like a weight. “A sworn affidavit from former Vakutan communications officer Draev Korr confirms detection of an external override signal during the blackout window, with relay handshake patterns consistent with League strategic clearance protocols. The tribunal may label that outside prosecutorial focus if it wishes, but the ceasefire accords include Coalition oversight clauses precisely to prevent unilateral burial of contested evidence.”
Thane’s mouth tightens. “Objection?—”
Drax’s gaze cuts to him. “Counsel will refrain from interruption during the defendant’s statement.”
I keep going, because momentum is the only weapon that sometimes works against a machine designed to slow you down. “Coalition fleet analysts have publicly confirmed the existence of limited communication log fragments, including blackout onset markers and relay integrity reports for the Kirell window. Those fragments will be submitted under secure evidentiary protocols. In light of these developments, and in light of the corridor guidance update at 14:01 corroborated by municipal telemetry presented by Liaison Ardent, this case warrants systemic examination.”
The words systemic examination ripple through the chamber like a dropped match.
Drax’s expression tightens imperceptibly, because she hears what the Senate hears: that a negligence case is becoming an inquiry into command authority.
I turn my gaze slightly toward the bench, and though I do not name Selene—because naming her on record right now would be handing her to predators—I let the weight of her work sit in my next sentence like a shield.
“Liaison Ardent’s findings,” I say, voice steady, “warrant verification before sentencing. Not because they absolve me of responsibility for issuing evacuation clearance, but because they indicate that civilian exposure may have been altered by authorization chains beyond my control. If the tribunal is committed to truth rather than theater, it will allow the record to be completed.”
Thane stands again, unable to contain himself. “High Arbiter, this is exactly the kind of destabilizing rhetoric the Senate warned against?—”
I do not look at him. I keep my eyes on Drax. “If truth destabilizes unity,” I say, the bitterness now controlled andrazor-edged, “then unity was built on instability. And I will not be executed to preserve a lie that requires continued tampering, accelerated timelines, and sealed files.”
The chamber murmurs louder, and I can feel the drones adjust, lenses widening, eager for the soundbite.
Drax’s voice is taut. “Commander Varos. You will confine statements to procedural requests.”
“This is procedural,” I reply, and the steadiness in my voice surprises even me, because it is the steadiness of someone who has stopped bargaining with fear. “I am invoking ceasefire oversight. I am requesting cross-jurisdiction review. I am requesting that sentencing be paused until the blackout window evidence, corridor authorization chain, and external affidavit are properly examined.”
Thane’s face tightens with frustration. “The defendant is attempting to weaponize Coalition pressure against League sovereignty?—”
I finally turn my head toward him, not with anger, but with something colder. “Sovereignty does not include the right to rewrite a casualty corridor.”
Silence hits the chamber, heavy.
