Chapter 67 — The Ship That Never Looks Back

Three Voices

The observation deck reserved for senior pilots, located at the highest point near the Dome Level's axis of rotation, is rarely visited outside of official training hours. Ngo Dac Vuong had chosen this place for the meeting, not because of absolute privacy — no place on the ship was truly absolutely private — but because it was one of the few places where he had legal authority to be present at any time, without explanation.

La Dieu Ninh came first, sat down on an old observation chair looking out the large window displaying a simulated image of the starry sky, her hands clasped together on her knees as was the habit of someone who had gone through countless stressful meetings. "Are you sure this place is safe, Dac Vuong?"

"Safest I could find." He replied, sitting down next to her. "But I can't make any absolute promises, especially after what's going on."

Ung Bao Trung arrived a few minutes later, walking briskly but purposefully, carrying a thin briefcase of documents. "I have prepared a draft." He said, wasting no time on polite greetings. "Not a public declaration of the whole truth — we all know that would be unwise, even dangerous. But a step-by-step roadmap, starting with acknowledging that the official history of the Night of the Broken Roots has gaps that need to be re-examined, opening an independent commission to review the record, with representation from all three layers."

La Dieu Ninh received the document, quickly scanned it, nodding in agreement with each paragraph. "Caution. Reasonable. But will Chuong Khac Dinh accept, even if it's just this first step?"

"I don't think he will accept voluntarily." Ngo Dac Vuong said, his voice thoughtful. "But I think he's more shaken than we thought. I've taught under him for twenty-five years, and I've never seen him as tense as he has been in recent weeks."

"The problem is not just Chuong Khac Dinh." Ung Bao Trung said, his tone becoming more serious. "Sun Keyu is building his own influence within the Guard, independent of the Council's official authority. I have heard, through a reliable source, that he has begun drafting a list of individuals who should be 'preventively dealt with' if the situation worsens — not just in the Root Layer, but within the Council itself."

A heavy silence enveloped the small room. La Dieu Ninh was the first to break it. "Are you saying he might see us as a threat that needs to be dealt with?"

"I don't rule out that possibility." Ung Bao Trung replied. "That's why I think we need to move faster than originally planned. If we wait until the plenary session to introduce this proposal for the first time, we will be overwhelmed by the careful preparation of the hardliners. We need to mobilize support in advance, quietly, from hesitant Commissioners."

"Kieu Trong Nghiem." Ngo Dac Vuong said, the name popped out like a thought that had been formed for a long time. "He hasn't chosen a side yet. If we can convince him before Zhang Keding does, his vote could be the deciding factor."

"I heard the Elder invited him to private tea." La Dieu Ninh said, her eyes sharp. "Perhaps we were slower than we thought."

Ngo Dac Vuong sighed, rubbed his forehead, feeling the weight of age and responsibility weighing heavily on his shoulders. "I will find a way to talk to him, as a long-time colleague, not as a representative of any side. Perhaps that is the only way to make him really listen, instead of feeling forced to choose sides."

They continued to discuss for nearly another hour, reviewing every detail of the draft, calculating who among the remaining Commissioners might support it, who would definitely oppose it, and who was still ambiguous. Ung Bao Trung talks about the conversations he has had with representatives of Root Floor residents in his role as head of Residential Life, about the real level of discontent that is simmering beneath the surface of official statistics. La Dieu Ninh shares her memories of the Night of Broken Roots from the perspective of a young navigator at that time, what she witnessed but never dared to say publicly until today.

When the meeting was almost over, La Dieu Ninh stood up, walked to the large door frame, looked out at the simulated starry sky for a long time before turning back to look at his two colleagues. "I have lived long enough to see generations of leaders come and go on this ship, each generation convinced that its approach is the best. What I fear most is not that we fail to convince the Council. I fear that even if we succeed, the next generation after us will find a new truth to hide, and the cycle will never truly end."

"There's probably no way to completely stop that cycle." Ngo Dac Vuong replied, his voice carrying a calm reality. "But perhaps what we can do is make that cycle less cruel each time it repeats, until, one day, the generation after us is strong enough to break it completely."

Ung Bao Trung nodded, collected the document, and put it in his jacket. "Then we continue as planned. I will find a way to meet with two more hesitant Commissioners privately this week. We meet again here, at the same time, in three days."

They left one by one, a few minutes apart, taking different paths, a measure of caution that had become a habit for all those on the Council who were beginning to feel like they were treading a thin line. None of the three people noticed the small figure that flickered in the corner of the corridor outside the observatory, a low-level logistics officer from the Guard support department, who happened to pass by while performing a routine lighting system check, and noticed three familiar faces gathered in a place that no one usually went to at this hour.

*

Than Bao Nghiem received a report from that logistics officer later in the day, a brief inconclusive note—simply noting that three Councilors had been at the pilot observation deck at the same time at an unusual time, not on any official schedule. He sat looking at that note for a long time, feeling a new tug of war in his heart, different from the tug of war he had experienced when reading the Night of Broken Roots file a few days ago.

This isn't about Khe Lam, it's not about the nameless Root Layer residents. This was about three high-ranking members of the Council itself, who, by every rule of his training, deserved absolute trust, not supervision. Reporting these full details to Ton Khac Du could spark a serious political confrontation within the ship's highest authority.

He recalled what Ton Khac Du said in the most recent briefing, about a "precaution list" whose content he himself had never clearly stated. He wondered if, if he reported fully on this meeting, names like Ngo Dac Vuong, La Dieu Ninh, Ung Bao Trung would be added to that list, considered internal threats that needed closer monitoring, the same way Khe Lam and the other Root Layer residents were being monitored.

In the end, he wrote a vague, minimally formal report—noting "an exchange between the Commissioners at the observatory, of unknown content, with no indication of a breach of security procedures"—enough not to be considered withholding information if later discovered, but vague enough not to immediately trigger a deeper investigation.

He sent the report, then sat quietly in his empty office, wondering who he was becoming, as each day passed, he found one more small way to delay, to obscure, to protect the people he was assigned to supervise. It wasn't a complete betrayal of the oath he took the day he enlisted. But it was no longer the absolute obedience he had been proud of for the past twelve years.

He thought of the partially obscured note he'd read in the Night of Broken Roots files — "political risk if made public" — and wondered if he himself, right now, was becoming part of the same concealment machine, only he was concealing in the opposite direction, to protect those who were trying to reveal the truth instead of those who were trying to bury it. He didn't know if that made him a better person or simply a traitor in a different way, and that question would stay with him for many nights afterward.