Chapter 28 — The Ship That Never Looks Back

Two Dialogues

A bowl of synthetic seaweed soup steamed slightly on the dining table. Kieu Trong Nghiem sat straight in front of his son, holding his chopsticks neatly in the same manner he had kept throughout his years working in the Department of Education - every gesture was measured, even in the most private meal between father and son. Their apartment was located in the center of the Dome Floor, far more spacious than most residents' standards, with a small observation window overlooking a corner of the Gravity Well, where light mimicking distant stars sparkled behind thick glass.

"You've been quieter than usual lately." Kieu Trong Nghiem commented, not looking up from his bowl of soup.

"I'm just busy with my thesis, dad." Bach Van replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Thesis on maritime history." His father nodded. "I heard Mr. Vuong mention it in a recent meeting. He said you seem to be digging deeper than necessary into stages that aren't really important to the official curriculum." He stopped his chopsticks and looked straight at his son for the first time since the beginning of the meal. "I don't blame you for wanting to learn. But I want you to understand, there are historical periods that are omitted from the curriculum not because we lack materials, but because delving into them does not bring any benefit to people living today, it only brings unnecessary burdens."

Bach Van felt a cold streak running down her spine, but tried to keep her face calm. "What specific stage are you talking about?"

"I was speaking in general, not implying anything specific." Kieu Trong Nghiem replied, too quickly, too concisely, making that denial itself become an indirect admission. He put down his chopsticks and looked out the observation window, where simulated stars drifted silently past his eyes. "Do you know when I started working at the Department of Instruction?"

"I remember you said you were twenty-five years old." Bach Van replied.

"Yes. Back then I was young, full of ideals, believing that education should give people the whole truth, without hiding anything, letting them decide for themselves how to live with it." Kieu Trong Nghiem said, his voice carrying a nostalgia that Bach Van had rarely heard. "But the longer I did it, the more I understood: this ship is not a normal society that can withstand all the shocks of a large planet. We live in a closed metal shell, all systems so interdependent that a mass panic could upset the delicate balance that keeps everyone alive. I have learned to choose what to teach, not to deceive, but to protect."

"But who decides what should be known and what should not, Father?" Bach Van asked, his voice trembling slightly because of his own question, a question he had never dared to ask before.

Kieu Trong Nghiem looked at his son for a long time, a look that was both a bit surprised and a bit proud and worried. "That's the best question you've ever asked me, Bach Van. And I don't have an answer that will satisfy you. The people who decide are the leaders of the Council, generation after generation, carrying on their shoulders a responsibility that none of them really wants to shoulder. I'm not saying they're always right. I'm just saying, I haven't found a better way to keep these eleven thousand two hundred and forty people alive through a journey longer than any human lifetime could ever witness." complete.""

Bach Van was silent, looking at his father with a mixed feeling between new understanding and old insecurity. This is not a cruel father, deliberately hiding his son for personal gain. This is a man who has spent his entire life believing in a philosophy he believes is correct, even though that philosophy is crushing many others — including, possibly, the woman he loves.

"Do you ever agree with dad about this?" He asked, the question popping out before he could even consider it.

A long silence passed, Kieu Trong Nghiem's face flashed with old pain. "My mother is a navigator, I know it's a job that requires absolute trust in numbers, in accuracy." He spoke slowly. "But she was also someone who believed that people deserved to know where they were going, no matter how bumpy the road was. We argued about this many times, before she died. I'm not sure which of us is right."

That answer, more honest and fragile than anything Bach Van had ever heard from his father, made him realize that even in his own family, the battle between silence and the truth had been silently going on for a long time, he was just never observant enough to realize it.

"Have you heard anything about the ongoing investigation?" Bach Van asked, trying to keep the question from sounding like an idle curiosity. "About the two people who got into the restricted storage area."

Kieu Trong Nghiem looked at his son for a long time, his eyes much sharper than the moment before. "I heard. The Council Elder personally followed this incident, which rarely happens with a normal intrusion. That in itself says a lot." He paused, lightly tapping the tip of his chopsticks on the table, a familiar thoughtful gesture. "I don't know what they had access to, and I don't want to know, because the more I know about a secret that doesn't belong to me, the more unnecessary responsibility I have to take on. But I advise you, if you happen to hear anything related, to keep your distance. It's not because I suspect you're involved, it's simply that those who stand too close to a fire, even accidentally, can get burned."

Bach Van nodded, bending over the cold bowl of soup, feeling that his father's advice was both a sincere concern and a warning that could come true in the most painful way if he knew that his son had not only stood near the fire, but had personally started part of it.

The next afternoon, in the hallway leading to the navigation simulation room, Uong Khac Tram stopped Bach Van before he could enter the classroom, her eyes were more serious than usual.

"I need to talk to you, privately." She said, pulling him to a hidden corner next to the equipment cabinet.

"What's up?" Bach Van asked, trying to keep his voice calm even though his heart had begun to beat fast.

"Yesterday I passed by the old supply bay near the border of the Season Layer." Uong Khac Tram said, her voice lowered. "I saw you there, with a girl in Roots maintenance gear. I couldn't hear what you guys were saying, and I didn't try to, but I saw enough to understand that it wasn't a normal business meeting."

Bach Van stood dumbfounded for a moment, trying to find a reasonable explanation, but Uong Khac Tram raised his hand to silence him before he could speak.

"I'm not asking to accuse you." She said, her voice softening a bit, carrying a sudden understanding. "I ask because I know better than anyone else in this class how dangerous it is to stand between two worlds. I've lived with that scrutiny for the past four years, ever since the day I stepped into the Dome Floor with a Dharma Floor score that no one would believe a Season Floor child could achieve. If you're doing something that could involve our class of students in an investigation, I need to know in advance, not to betray you, but so I know how to protect myself."

"I can't tell you everything right now." Bach Van replied, choosing each word carefully. "But I promise, I won't let whatever I'm doing get you or anyone else in the class into trouble. This is my own business."

Uong Khac Tram looked at him for a long time, her eyes shining with something complicated — not quite doubt, not quite complete trust, but a careful consideration of someone who has learned to never bet too much on anyone.

"Okay." She said finally. "I won't ask any more, at least not yet. But if the day comes when you need someone on this ship who doesn't belong to either side, someone who understands what it's like to stand between two worlds without fully belonging to either side, remember me."

She left before he could respond, leaving him standing there, both relieved that she hadn't asked further, and with a new feeling that, among all the eyes watching her, perhaps Uong Khac Tram wasn't quite as dangerous as he had feared, but could, one day soon, be a valuable ally he had never considered when everything first began.