Chapter 55 — The Ship That Never Looks Back

An Old Name

"She was brought here about three weeks after the night she was escorted." Pham Ngoc Suong began, her voice monotonous as if retelling a story that had been rehearsed many times in her mind, even though she had never said it out loud to anyone from the world above. "Not this place, another area, closer to the Machine Hall, which was also a temporary transfer station for people who had just been taken out of the Central Demographic Register."

"So is there a system, a process, for that?" Khe Lam asked, trying to remember every detail even though her mind was racing.

“Yes, although I suspect that even those running it at a high level are not entirely comfortable with their roles.” Pham Ngoc Suong said. "I never knew who was in charge, only that there were people, somewhere in the Dome bureaucracy, who secretly arranged for those considered threats not to be killed, only to be removed from view, and left to our own devices to figure out how to survive in these abandoned areas. A cruel punishment in its own right, but also a clemency, if you look at it another way."

"How was my mother then?" Khe Lam asked, her voice choked.

Pham Ngoc Suong closed his eyes for a moment, as if searching for that image in his memory. "Shattered." She said in the end, not avoiding the truth. "She had just lost everything — her job position, her freedom, and worst of all, a one-year-old daughter whom she didn't know if she would ever see again. The first weeks, she barely spoke to anyone, just sat quietly in a corner, her eyes staring blankly into space."

Hearing those words, Khe Lam felt tears rolling down, imagining her mother, young, heartbroken, sitting in the darkness of a forgotten area, carrying the pain of losing her child without knowing whether her daughter would be properly cared for or not.

"But she didn't stay in that state forever." Pham Ngoc Suong continued, her voice now a little warmer. "After a few months, she started to stand up, started using her own engineering skills to help improve the living conditions of all the people who were sent to the same area. She was the one who designed the first water filtration system we used in the original area, almost similar to what you see here in Ham Lang now, only much more primitive. She became one of the pillars of the community at that time, respected by everyone as much as an official chief engineer."

A trembling smile appeared on Khe Lam's tearful face, a mixture of pride and pain as she heard about the strength her mother had found amid the worst of circumstances.

"Do you know Dinh Khac Bat?" Khe Lam asked, remembering the name that always appeared alongside her mother's in every story about the Night of Roots.

A shadow flashed across Pham Ngoc Suong's face. "He did not live long after arriving in that area." She said, her voice low. "The injuries from the night of suppression were more severe than anyone expected, and that area when it was first formed did not have enough medical conditions to treat serious cases. He died about two months after arriving, buried in our own way, with no tombstone, no records, only the memories of those who were alive at the time."

"So the official record saying he died that night because he resisted security forces is wrong." Bach Van said, a new indignation in his voice.

"That's right, and not entirely wrong either." Pham Ngoc Suong replied, a bitterness in her thin smile. "He died from the same injuries from that night, just two months later than what they recorded. Perhaps for those writers, the difference in time was not as important as closing the story neatly."

Khe Lam sat quietly, digesting another piece of painful truth, then directed the question back to what she most wanted to know. "Did she mention me?" She asked, desperate to hear any more details, no matter how trivial.

"Everyday." Pham Ngoc Suong replied without hesitation. "She kept a small piece of fabric, cut from the blanket that wrapped her child in her arms when she was still holding her child in her arms, before that fateful night. She always carried it with her, touching it every time she needed to regain the strength to continue. I have never seen a mother miss her child so deeply and steadfastly, through all these years."

Khe Lam hugged her face, letting her tears flow uncontrollably, feeling the full weight of a love she had never experienced directly but now, through a stranger's words, she felt it as clearly as if she were being held in that embrace.

"How long has she lived in that area?" Khe Lam asked, when she regained composure enough to continue.

"Many years." Pham Ngoc Suong replied. "I don't remember the exact number, but it was long enough to see the area grow from a small panicked group into a truly organized community. She was also the one who helped establish the first connections with the few good people left on the world above, who were willing to pass on news, sometimes even supplies, without reporting to the Council."

Those words immediately reminded Khe Lam of her grandmother's story about "Mr. Tu," the mysterious man who came to inform her father that her mother was alive many years ago.

"There is a person, my grandmother calls him 'Mr. Tu'." Khe Lam said, hope rising in her heart. "He once came to see my father, saying that my mother was still alive, around the year two hundred and thirty-five. Do you know him?"

Pham Ngoc Suong was silent for a moment, her eyes distant as if searching for an elusive memory. "There is such a person, yes, one of our most trusted contacts for many years, doing something related to personnel files on the Dome Level. He never uses his real name when contacting us, just a nickname. I cannot confirm whether it is the same person or not, but the possibility is not small."

"Is he still in contact with you?" Bach Van asked, who had just quietly entered from behind the curtain, not wanting to interrupt but also unable to contain his curiosity at this new piece of the puzzle.

"Not anymore, it's been many years." Pham Ngoc Suong replied, a bit of regret in her voice. "Such communication is always tenuous, and over time, many such contacts have fallen apart, for various reasons — some retire, some move jobs, some, I'm afraid, no longer exist."

"Does he have any particular description, ma'am?" Bach Van asked further, trying to grasp any details that could help him further narrow the scope of his search when he returned to the student library. "A scar, a way of speaking, anything?"

"I just remember him always appearing at the end of the shift, when the hallways were the most empty, and always carrying a small, old leather-bound notebook, writing down everything in a private code I've never been able to decipher." Pham Ngoc Suong replied, trying to recall every detail in his memories that had faded over the years. "He is so careful that it's almost obsessive, but also so sincere that you always believe that what he brings is real, not a trap."

Bach Van remembers every detail, no matter how little, as a new clue to the parallel journey he is still pursuing alongside Khe Lam.

Khe Lam nodded, remembering this new piece of the puzzle into the mental map that was gradually being built, even though it still left many gaps unfilled.

Outside the fabric curtain, the sounds of Ham Lang's activities continued steadily — the sound of someone repairing a piece of equipment, the sound of children being called home for dinner, the soft laughter of a few elders chatting nearby. Khe Lam realized, in the midst of everything she had just heard, another truth was slowly forming in her mind — this community was not just a refuge for outcasts, but a living proof that people, despite being stripped of everything, could still rebuild a life of meaning, of love, of hope, right in the heart of the ship's most forgotten darkness.

"This ship is much larger than the Council wants everyone to believe." Pham Ngoc Suong said, as if reading her thoughts. "Not just physically, but humanly. How many stories like your mother's, I think, are buried somewhere, waiting for someone brave enough to dig them up?"

"So now, ma'am." She asked, her voice shaking as the most important question still hung unanswered. "Where is my mother now?"