“I will.”
I open the tribunal petition interface and begin composing.
“To the Office of High Arbiter Solenne Drax,” I dictate, my voice low but unwavering. “In the interest of evidentiary continuity and procedural integrity, I formally request that Junior Archival Liaison Selene Ardent remain assigned to the reconstruction of the Kirell evacuation corridor sequence.”
Pellorin folds his arms, listening.
“Her published expertise in civilian evacuation modeling specific to Kirell’s orbital grid, coupled with her documented identification of timestamp variance within the 14:01 recalibration window, renders her uniquely qualified to ensure technical precision.”
I pause only briefly before continuing.
“Removal of assigned archival personnel following public disclosure of casualty connection may reasonably be interpretedas procedural interference. Preservation of assignment supports transparency.”
I sign and submit.
The interface confirms receipt.
Pellorin watches the confirmation seal and exhales slowly. “You are forcing them to either accept her or appear to silence her.”
“I am forcing them to choose.”
He studies me again, and this time the frustration in his gaze softens into something closer to concern.
“You have not slept,” he says quietly.
“I do not require sleep.”
“That is not what I meant.”
I meet his eyes. “I know.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The hum of the custody chamber fills the space between us, steady and unyielding.
“If she uncovers something that destabilizes the ceasefire,” he says at last, “are you prepared for what follows?”
“The ceasefire was built on silence. If it cannot withstand truth, it was never stable.”
He closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again.
“You have always believed that,” he murmurs.
“Yes.”
He straightens, gathering himself back into the advocate he must be. “Then we will prepare for the consequences.”
I rest my hands against the cool alloy of the table, feeling the faint vibration of the binders at my wrists, and allow myself one measured breath.
Above us, the tribunal sharpens its narrative into something clean and prosecutable. Down here, the record waits in cold light, twelve minutes long and heavy as gravity.
“Let them bring the full record,” I say quietly.
Pellorin’s gaze holds mine. “And if it shatters more than your reputation?”
“Then it shatters honestly.”
CHAPTER 3
SELENE
