Chapter 71 — The Ship That Never Looks Back

Fire Ignite In The Communion Hall

Three days after the arrest, the Transfer Hall could no longer maintain the daily rhythm of peaceful shift changes. Khe Lam walked through this area on the way to the maintenance workshop, noticing that the crowd had gathered larger than usual, not dispersing immediately after the shift change as usual, but lingering in small groups, their voices low but tense, occasionally interrupted by the sound of someone raising their voice, then subdued again when a patrolling Guard passed by.

Vu Khac Dang has not been released yet. No one in the Root Week had received any official information about his condition, other than a brief announcement from the Root Stage administrative office that he was "cooperating with the investigation agency in a matter that is being clarified" — a phrase so vague that it only served to increase anxiety rather than reassure anyone.

Phung Bao Nhan, now temporarily taking on the role of team coordinator, tried to maintain work as usual, but Khe Lam clearly noticed the tension in the way he gave orders, the way he kept glancing towards the factory door as if waiting for another team of Guards to appear at any moment.

"Have you heard any news?" Trinh Yen My asked softly, when they both checked a piece of electric cable during the morning shift, her voice full of worry.

"Nothing." Khe Lam replied, the feeling of guilt still clinging to her like a layer of dust that could not be wiped away. "I wish I knew more."

She couldn't tell Yen My that she contacted Bach Van every night, that he tried to use every possible relationship to find out Vu Khac Dang's condition, only receiving vague answers and closed doors even for a navigator whose father was the Head of the Education Department.

At noon, when Khe Lam passed by Giao Ca Hall on the way home to rest, she saw Tram Ba Nguyen standing in the middle of a much larger crowd than before, his voice echoing throughout the large space of the hall.

"Three days." He spoke, his voice carrying a dangerous restraint, like a string being stretched to its limit. "For three days they kept a man who had devoted nearly fifty years of his life to this system, without an explanation, without a chance to defend. If this is how they treat the best of us, imagine what they are willing to do to the rest."

The crowd roared in agreement, a sound that made Khe Lam feel a new fear, different from the familiar fear of being discovered by the Guard. This is the fear of a collective power that is finding its own voice, a power that she is not sure anyone, including Tram Ba Nguyen, can completely control once it truly explodes.

She tried to sneak closer to him after the crowd began to disperse to continue their work, seizing the rare opportunity to talk privately. "Uncle Tram, I'm worried about what's happening. I understand everyone's anger, but I'm afraid that if this continues to escalate, the consequences will be uncontrollable."

"I'm worried too, baby girl." He replied, his voice low enough for her to hear. "But I worry more about the fact that if we don't do anything, they will continue to arrest more people, tighten more rations, until no one dares to open their mouths anymore. Sometimes, the only way to get them to stop is to show them we can make them pay if they continue."

"How to pay?" Khe Lam asked, a new worry rising in her.

Tram Ba Nguyen did not answer immediately, just looked at her with a heavy look, as if he was considering whether to share something he had never said to anyone else. "I'm thinking of many options, Khe Lam. Not all of them are options I like. But when people are backed into a corner long enough, they stop asking whether an action is wise, they only ask whether it will make others listen."

That answer made Khe Lam shiver, a bad premonition began to form in her heart that she could not yet name clearly.

*

On the other side of the ship, in the Guard commander's office, Than Bao Nghiem stood looking through the glass separating the interrogation room, observing Vu Khac Dang sitting across from a high-ranking officer who was constantly asking repeated questions about his connection to the illegal gatherings, about why he approved Khe Lam to conduct a solo inspection near the Primordial Core, about any unusual things he might have noticed in the members of his team.

Vu Khac Dang answered each question with an almost indomitable calm, not denying, not avoiding, simply telling the truth he knew — that he was unaware of anything unusual, that he had signed off on Khe Lam's job application because she was one of the best engineers on the team, that he had no contact whatsoever with the organizers of the gathering other than trying to keep order in his own team.

Than Bao Nghiem felt a wave of nausea rise within him as he watched the scene, realizing that it was Vu Khac Dang's honesty—the fact that he truly knew nothing—that was what caused the interrogation to drag on without end, because the interrogating officers did not believe that a person in his position could be completely innocent of what was going on in the team he managed.

"How long do you think we should keep him?" A colleague asked Than Bao Nghiem, standing next to him in front of the glass.

"I do not know." Than Bao Nghiem replied, his voice was heavier than he wanted to express. "But I'm starting to think we're holding an innocent person captive simply because we don't know what else to do to feel like we're in control of the situation."

His colleagues glanced at him in surprise, not used to hearing such words from a captain known for his absolute devotion to duty. Than Bao Nghiem realized he had just revealed more than he intended, and quickly changed the subject, but the question remained in his mind for the rest of his shift, a question he could no longer avoid: how much longer could he continue to be a part of this machine, before his conscience forced him to do something beyond the vague reports and small delays he had tried to make over the past weeks.

*

That evening, Khe Lam met Bach Van at the technical hole, recounting the conversation with Tram Ba Nguyen, her voice filled with anxiety when mentioning his last words about making others "pay the price."

"I think he's considering something related to the Central Regeneration Station." She said, remembering Tram Ba Nguyen's heavy eyes. "It's the only place important enough to require the Council's immediate attention, and it's also the most dangerous place if anything goes wrong."

Bach Van was silent for a moment, his face tense under the dim light of the technical cavity. "If he really thought about seizing or threatening the regeneration station, even if it was just to put pressure and not actually sabotage, it would still be an extremely dangerous gamble. If just one person in the crowd lost control, if just one device was accidentally damaged in the midst of chaos, the consequences could spread to the entire water and gas recycling system for the entire ship."

"I know." Khe Lam said, her voice shaking with helplessness. "But I don't know how to stop him without making things worse. If I protest too strongly, I could lose the trust of the entire Root community, who look to him as the only voice daring to stand up for them. But if I stay silent, I fear I'm complicit in a potential disaster."

Bach Van held her hand, his eyes serious. "Perhaps we need to find a way to speed up our progress. If Ung Bao Trung and La Dieu Ninh can persuade a few more Commissioners before the plenary session, if the Council can offer some sign of concession, however small, perhaps that will be enough to cool the situation before Tram Ba Nguyen or anyone else decides to act rashly."

"We have no control over the Council's speed." Khe Lam said, a new desperation creeping into her voice. "And I'm afraid we can no longer control the speed of the Root Layer itself either."

They sat in silence for a long moment, their hands clasped tightly together, both acutely aware that they were standing between two enormous forces that were drawing closer together every day—increasing hardness on the part of the Council, and increasingly uncontained anger on the part of the Roots—and there was no guarantee that they, two small people in a ship containing more than eleven thousand lives, could do anything to prevent those two forces from colliding.