Chapter 25 — The Ship That Never Looks Back

One Step Distance

"We have guests today." Vu Khac Dang announced during the morning shift change meeting, his voice tried to remain normal but could not hide the tension in his shoulders. "An equipment inspection team from the Council Guard will accompany us on patrol in the border area today, checking the condition of water and gas pipelines as required by routine maintenance upgrades after the Ring Turning incident last month. Everyone works as usual, fully answering questions if asked, no need to worry."

That last sentence, "no need to worry", was the one that made Khe Lam's heart beat faster than anything else that morning. She glanced at Trinh Yen My standing next to her, her friend who was taking notes on the schedule on the task board with a completely calm look - at least Yen My had nothing to hide.

The section of the corridor in the bordering area that Team Tuan Re is in charge of today is the section with the gap behind the duct panel, where Khe Lam hid the storage chip wrapped in a piece of insulating cloth four days ago. She chose that place because she believed that her presence here always had a legitimate reason. She did not expect that very good reason today would be accompanied by two people wearing dark gray uniforms of the Guard, holding handheld scanning devices.

"Phung Bao Nhan, you and me check the pressure valve in the head area." Vu Khac Dang assigned tasks when the whole team arrived, two Guard officers followed closely behind, one young man seemed new to the job, the other was older, sharp eyes and quiet. "Khe Lam, Yen My, you guys check the pipe section from mark C-9 to C-14. Ha Dinh Khiem comes along to record the data."

Khe Lam nodded, trying to keep a steady pace as he led Yen My and Ha Dinh Khiem down the hallway. The older Guard officer followed them, stopping at each marker to scan the tube's surface with a handheld device, recording surface temperature and pressure readings.

"This place seems older than the rest." The officer spoke as they approached landmark C-11, where wild vines from the Old Garden neighborhood had spread over a section of wall, partially covering the cladding covering the gap Khe Lam still used as a hiding place.

"This part belongs to the first installation system, sir." Khe Lam replied, trying to keep her voice even as if she were answering an everyday question. "Auxiliary water pipes rarely need to be completely replaced because of low flow. Our team does regular maintenance every month."

The officer nodded, saying nothing more, but he stepped closer to the panel, bringing the scanning device close to the opening — too close. Khe Lam felt her whole body stiffen, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that she was afraid the sound might echo out.

"Khiem, give me last month's data sheet for this section." She spoke, her voice suddenly a little higher than intended, but enough to draw the attention of both the officer and Ha Dinh Khiem to her. "I want to compare today's measurements with old ones to see if there are any signs of accelerated corrosion."

Ha Dinh Khiem, not used to being called suddenly, awkwardly searched through a handheld file, dropping a few pages to the floor right at the officer's feet. A small moment of chaos occurred — Khiem bent down to pick up the paper, apologizing profusely, the officer also bent down to lend a hand out of polite reflex — and in those few seconds, Khe Lam took a short step, enough to stand between the officer and the panel with the gap, her hand raised to point at another spot on the pipe, away from the location where the chip was hidden.

"Here, you see." She said, her voice regaining professionalism. "This stain is a sign of a small leak that was fixed two months ago, there's no need to re-scan that area, we have complete records."

The officer stood up straight, received the pad of paper from Ha Dinh Khiem, glanced at a few lines of data, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with her professionalism. "Okay. This part is fine. Let's continue to the next milestone."

Khe Lam exhaled softly, trying not to let her breath make a sound, as the group moved away from the gap in the hallway. Yen My, walking next to her, glanced over with a fleeting look of curiosity.

"Your hands are shaking." Yen My whispered, low enough for only Khe Lam to hear. "What's up?"

"It's just stress because there are strangers watching your work." Khe Lam replied, hiding his shaking hand in the pocket of his protective jacket. "Don't you feel uncomfortable, having someone watching your every move as if you were a suspect?"

"Yes." Yen My said, her voice low. "But you... look like you have something real to hide, not just plain upset."

That sentence, even though it was said gently, made Khe Lam's spine colder than the moment the officer brought the scanning device closer to the opening. Yen My was not a Guard, had no power to threaten her, but Yen My had known her long enough, well enough, to recognize the smallest signs of abnormality - things that a complete stranger cannot recognize.

"I'm fine." Khe Lam said, trying to smile. "It's just that I haven't been getting enough sleep lately, I told you."

Yen My didn't ask further, but her eyes, when Khe Lam glanced over again, still held a bit of uncertainty - not a suspicion that Khe Lam had done something wrong, but the silent worry of a friend who felt the distance growing between them without understanding why.

During lunch break, the whole group gathered at the corner of the familiar transit corridor to eat their rations. The two Guard officers split up to eat separately at the other end of the corridor, far enough away to not hear the conversation. Phung Bao Nhan, who had just spent the morning being asked over and over again by the young officer about the pressure valve check procedure, was still frustrated.

"I swear, that Guard asked me the same question three times, as if I was going to change the answer each time." He spoke as he tore open the ration packet with his teeth, his voice still maintaining the familiar humor even though he was clearly as stressed as anyone else. "I told him, if you suspect I sabotaged the pressure valve, just stand there and watch me work all day. I don't mind. I'm just afraid you'll fall asleep before me."

"Don't joke with them." Vu Khac Dang interrupted, his voice rare and serious. "These past few weeks are not the time for jokes. I don't know what the higher-ups are looking for, but anyone in this team who reveals a flaw, even if it's just an untimely joke, could drag the whole team into unnecessary trouble."

That sentence made the group silent for a while, even Phung Bao Nhan did not respond with another joke as usual. Khe Lam lowered her head to finish her portion, a dull feeling of guilt rising in her heart - Little did Vu Khac Dang know that the caution he was calling for the whole team was because of a secret brought by herself, no one else.

That evening, when the shift ended and the Guard inspection team had left, Khe Lam returned to corridor C-11 alone, under the pretext of checking a pressure valve that needed further adjustment. She slid her hand into the gap, feeling that the piece of insulating fabric was still in place, untouched. She pulled it out, considered it for a long time, then decided not to leave it there again — a place that had almost been discovered once was no longer a safe place, even if luck was on her side this time.

She carried the chip with her, hidden in a small compartment inside the sole of her protective shoe that she had carved out the night before with her own toolkit — a skill she learned not from any formal training, but from the instincts of someone who had been accustomed to keeping things secret since childhood. Wherever she went, it followed her, closer to her than anything else she had ever carried, and she told herself that if one day they found her, they would at least had to search her feet to find the truth she was protecting.

On the way home, she texted Bach Van a short line through mailbox number thirteen, just a few words according to their own convention: "Almost. Moved. Safer now." She didn't go into details, there was no need to tell it through a text message that could be read, just that he knew that the danger that had just passed was very close, so close that she could feel its breath on the back of her neck, and that next time, they might not be so lucky.

Before turning off the light to go to bed, she sat quietly for a moment on the edge of the bed, took off her safety shoes, and looked down at the small hidden compartment in the sole of the shoe, which now held both a part of her family history and her own uncertain future. She thought of Yen My's eyes that afternoon, of her friend's short but heartbreakingly accurate words, and wondered how much longer she could keep a safe distance between the people she loved and what she was hiding, before one of those two things was forced to give way to the other.