10. Rethan
RETHAN
The objection arrives before I finish filing the expanded inquiry.
I read them all.
Then I attach them to the evidence matrix.
If Helix wishes to document its fear, I won’t interfere.
The records room emptied after Lucy addressed the waiting families. Her words were careful, but not weak. Serious inconsistencies. Expanded inquiry. More witnesses needed. Do not sign relocation agreements. Do not let anyone take private records. Report every Helix visit.
She spoke first.
I stood beside her and confirmed each point.
That’s all Helix needs to claim contamination.
My wrist display chimes again.
Another objection.
I open it, scan the first paragraph, and mark it redundant.
A knock strikes the records room door before I can send the next file. Three firm raps, evenly spaced.
Helix has sent attorneys.
“Enter,” I say.
The door opens to reveal Corvek with two legal representatives and one security officer who remains just outside the threshold. I note the placement. Intimidation without technical violation.
Corvek’s smile arrives before his greeting. “Specialist Veyr. We hoped to resolve this professionally before further damage is done.”
“There is no private resolution to an active preservation inquiry.”
One attorney, a narrow woman with silver cuffs at her wrists, sets a data slate on the table. “Your expanded inquiry exceeds the scope authorized by the Interstellar Cultural Preservation Authority. Helix will contest every action beyond verification of registered cultural artifacts.”
“Land can be cultural property,” I say.
“Under limited conditions.”
“Those conditions are now under review.”
Corvek’s smile loses its warmth. “You have allowed local emotion to distort the matter. These people are upset. Understandably. But grief does not create legal standing.”
I fold my hands behind my back. “Nor does wealth create truth.”
The second attorney speaks at once. “That remark will be included in our conduct complaint.”
“Quote it accurately.”
Corvek takes a slow breath. “You are making an enemy of an organization with considerable influence.”
“No. I am examining records.”
“You ordered our teams off development land.”
“I ordered your teams off disputed occupied farms after a halt directive.”
“Preliminary survey activity is not development.”
“Entering Hartwell lower field after a suspension order was a violation. Three witnesses observed it. My device recorded it. Your observer transmitted confirmation to your command channel.”
The attorney with silver cuffs looks sharply at Corvek.
Interesting.
Corvek recovers quickly. “A misunderstanding by ground staff.”
“Then you will appreciate the chance to prevent further misunderstandings.”
I open the official case file and project the new classification above the table.
Preservation Review 8-4417. Status amended: contested historical integrity inquiry.
The attorneys stare at it.
Corvek’s polished calm shows strain. “You filed it.”
“I did.”
“On what authority?”
“Mine.”
“Your authority does not include accusing Helix of fraud.”
“I have not accused Helix of fraud.”
“You marked historical integrity.”
“Because historical records appear to have been altered. If Helix did not alter them, the inquiry may benefit you.”
No one answers fast enough.
Beyond the open door, sound shifts in the hall. Footsteps. Murmurs. Someone has noticed Helix entering the records room. Privacy, if Corvek expected any, has already begun to die.
The first attorney lowers her voice. “Withdraw the classification and return to artifact verification. Helix will allow additional transition time and will not oppose ceremonial preservation of selected sites.”
“Burial hills are not ceremonial objects.”
“We are prepared to discuss respectful relocation.”
“You cannot respectfully relocate a claim you have not proven you own.”
Corvek’s eyes harden. “Careful.”
I turn my wrist so the recorder seal glows. “This conversation has been logged since entry.”
The security officer outside shifts his stance.
I hear the faint change in breathing from the hallway. More settlers have gathered. Lucy is among them. I know before I see her, because the hall changes around her; not louder, not calmer, but focused.
Corvek notices too.
He steps closer to the table. “Specialist, consider your career. You have spent two centuries building a reputation for neutrality. Do not waste it on a valley that will forget your name in a generation.”
Anger, suddenly, presents itself as an option.
I decline it.
“My reputation is not the subject of review.”
“It will be.”
“Then file that correctly as well.”
A tense sound comes from the hallway, close to laughter but not careless enough to become it.
Lucy stands beyond the doorway with Mayor Reeve and half a dozen settlers behind her. She doesn’t smile. She only nods once, as if I’ve finally chosen the right side of the table.
Corvek sees the room slipping away from him.
“This is not over,” he says.
“No,” I reply. “It is now properly begun.”
The Helix attorneys gather their slates. Corvek leaves last, his smile restored for the watching settlers, though the effort costs him. The security officer follows, boots striking the hall floor with unnecessary force.
No one speaks until the outer door closes.
Mayor Reeve exhales. “Does this mean the valley has standing?”
“It means the records do,” I say. “For now, that is enough to keep the case alive.”
Lucy enters the room. “And Helix?”
I study the amended classification glowing above the table. Already, the public registry has begun distributing notice to regional authorities, Helix counsel, local administration, and every listed stakeholder in the affected zone.
The dispute can no longer be buried in a private file.
“Helix has been forced into the record,” I say.
By midday, Helix’s private threat will belong to the whole valley.