Chapter 70 — The Ship That Never Looks Back

Detained Person

The steady footsteps of a patrol echoed in the mid-morning maintenance workshop, a sound that was not part of the usual rhythm of the place, distinct enough to make every worker at work raise their heads at the same time. Khe Lam, bending over to check a pipe connection, felt a cold current run down her spine before she could see who was entering.

Four Guards dressed in neat uniforms walked through the large doors of the workshop, led by Than Bao Nghiem, his face maintained a stern and professional expression but Khe Lam, even at a glance, noticed an unusual stiffness in his gait, different from the cold confidence she remembered from the first time she encountered him in the Founding Archives many months ago.

"Vu Khac Dang." Than Bao Nghiem called his name, his voice echoed throughout the workshop, loud enough to completely stop all activities. "We need you to come with us to clarify some matters."

Vu Khac Dang walked out of his small office, his face flashed with surprise before returning to the familiar calmness of someone who has lived long enough not to panic at anything. "What's the problem, captain?"

"We will explain at the interrogation site." Than Bao Nghiem replied, his voice trying to keep a minimum level of neutrality, although Khe Lam sensed, through his eyes that passed over her for a brief moment, that he knew better than what he was saying.

"What does this have to do with anything?" Trinh Yen My asked, her voice trembling, stepping forward as if to block between the Guard and her team leader. "Uncle Dang did nothing wrong."

"Yen My, stay still." Vu Khac Dang said, his voice was still calm, one hand raised to signal her to step back. "It's okay. This is just some misunderstanding that needs to be cleared up. I'll go with them."

He took off the protective vest he was wearing, hanging it on the familiar hook with a slow, almost ritualistic gesture, as if trying to prolong the last moments in this familiar space before entering the unknown. When he turned back to face the patrol, his eyes scanned the crowd of workers standing silently, pausing a little longer at Khe Lam.

She felt like her heart stopped beating in that moment. Did he have any doubts? Was he looking at her with a silent question, a reproach she could not bear? But his eyes carried no such thing—just a strange calm, almost a reassurance, as if he were trying to tell her, without words, that whatever happened next, this wasn't her fault.

"Take care of the team while I'm away, Phung Bao Nhan." He said, turning to his deputy, his voice steady as if delivering daily tasks. "Ensure this week's maintenance schedule is still completed on time."

Then he followed the Guard, not protesting, not showing fear, just walking with the appearance of someone who has learned to face injustice throughout his life without letting it completely subdue his dignity. The door to the maintenance workshop closed behind him, and in that moment, Khe Lam felt something inside her close as well, a door leading back to a time before she knew this was the true price of what she was looking for.

The maintenance workshop was in heavy silence for many minutes after the Guards left, no one dared to speak first, everyone looked at each other with an unspoken question in their eyes. In the end, Ha Dinh Khiem was the one to break the silence, his voice trembling with mixed anger and fear. "They can't do that. Uncle Dang has never done anything wrong in his life."

"We don't know what's going on." Phung Bao Nhan said, trying to keep his voice calm even though his face was pale. "Probably just a routine interrogation involving some sort of procedure. He'll probably be back in a few hours."

But no one in the factory really believed that reassurance, including the person who said it. Khe Lam stood silently in the crowd, a feeling of guilt rising in her like an unstoppable wave. She knew, better than anyone in the workshop, that this was not a random misunderstanding. This is a direct, albeit indirect, consequence of the journey she chose to pursue - from the application for permission to check the safety valve alone that Vu Khac Dang signed, and from the trust he had given her for many months without knowing that she was being taken advantage of in a way she never intended.

Trinh Yen My held her hand, her face full of tears. "Khe Lam, are you okay? You look like you're about to faint."

"I'm fine." Khe Lam said, her voice choked, trying to suppress the rising emotions. She couldn't tell Yen My the truth, couldn't explain why she felt like she had just pushed the teacher, who had protected her for many years, into some interrogation room where she couldn't imagine what was waiting for him in there.

At noon, she tried to contact Bach Van via short phone, her voice trembling as she recounted what had just happened. He listened silently, then sighed heavily over the transmission.

"I'll find out where they took him and what they're questioning him about." he said. "Perhaps I can use my father's influence to get more information, though I'd hate to beg him for anything more after last night."

"What should I do now?" Khe Lam asked, her voice filled with despair. "Should I come out and confess everything to save him?"

"No." Bach Van said immediately, his voice resolute. "If you do that now, you will not only put yourself in danger, but you will also make everything Vu Khac Dang has endured meaningless, because he really has nothing to confess. If you appear and confess, it will only confirm their suspicions that there is a larger network at work, and will involve more people, not just him."

Khe Lam knew he was right, but that didn't lessen the weight of the feeling of helplessness pressing on her chest. She sat alone in a hidden corner of the maintenance workshop during lunch break, not eating or drinking anything, just staring at the space in front of her, thinking of Vu Khac Dang's calm face as he followed the Guards, to the last words he left as a reassurance she did not deserve to receive.

Late in the afternoon, rumors spread throughout the Root Layer at breakneck speed, each version was different but all revolved around the same event - the leader of the Root Patrol was arrested by the Guards for questioning, the official reason was unknown, and it was unclear when he would be released. Tram Ba Nguyen, upon hearing the news, convened an emergency gathering right at Giao Ca Hall, his voice ringing with indignation in front of the increasingly larger crowd.

"This is the clearest proof of what I said." He shouted, his voice echoing throughout the great hall. "They haven't just tightened our rations. Now they've started arresting the most respected leaders in our community, for a vague reason they don't bother to explain. If we continue to stay silent, who will be next?"

Khe Lam stood at the edge of the crowd, hearing those words ring like an alarm bell, realizing that the arrest of Vu Khac Dang was not just a personal tragedy for her and her team, but had become the trigger for something much larger, something she felt building up in the air around her, in the angry eyes of the strange workers she had never seen before, in the increasingly determined voice of Tram Ba Nguyen.

She thought of what Bach Van had said, that the truth they were looking for did not create a dissatisfaction that had existed for a long time, but just happened to appear right when it began to bubble to the surface. But standing here, in the middle of the seething crowd, hearing the applause every time Tram Ba Nguyen raised his voice, Khe Lam was no longer sure that the boundary was as clear as she once believed. Her journey, a journey that began with a mismatched coordinate during a seemingly routine maintenance shift, was now inseparably intertwined with the fates of thousands of people she had never met, and there was no way to step back, to separate herself from what was moving, unstoppable, right before her eyes.

That evening, when she returned home, Doan Bich Thu greeted her at the door with a worried face, having heard about the arrest through neighbors. She hugged her niece, didn't ask anything else, just held her tightly in her arms as if afraid that if she let go, she would be swept away like Vu Khac Dang, like her mother nineteen years ago, like everyone who dared to stand up and seek the truth on this ship.

"You're scared, Khe Lam." She whispered into her hair. "I'm afraid history is repeating itself, and this time, you're standing right in the middle of it."

Khe Lam did not answer, just hugged her tightly, feeling the truth in her words penetrate deep into his heart. She thought of Vu Khac Dang, somewhere in a cold interrogation room, paying the price for a journey he didn't even know he was participating in. She thought of Dinh Khac Bat, of her mother, of all the names in the Dark Roots file that she had never met but now felt like lost relatives. And she knew, deep inside, that no matter what happened next, they had passed the point of no return, and the road ahead, wherever it led, would be unlike anything they had imagined when they started.