Chương 8
“Then say that.”
She held my gaze.
“I just did.”
I looked away.
My patience was thinning.
She deserved better than my tone.
“Sorry.”
“Accepted.”
Priya pretended to be very interested in a spreadsheet.
Haskell did not pretend anything.
“You know this is going to make every aviator in the building curious.”
“I’m aware.”
He lifted both hands.
“Not me.”
“You literally just said you were curious.”
“I said every aviator.”
“You’re an aviation maintenance officer.”
He considered that.
“Fair.”
A knock sounded at the secure door.
An ensign entered and handed Reyes a sealed envelope.
She opened it, read the first page, and stopped.
“What?”
I asked.
She passed it to me.
The preliminary engineering assessment from yesterday’s aircraft showed no physical damage to the flight-control module.
No connector failure.
No moisture intrusion.
No evidence of overheating.
The fault had occurred without an obvious mechanical trigger.
Priya read over my shoulder.
“That’s worse.”
“Yes.”
Haskell exhaled.
“Could still be software.”
“Could.”
“Could be aircraft wiring.”
“Could.”
He frowned.
“You agree too much when you’re worried.”
“I’m trying something new.”
Reyes stood.
“We elevate.”
The room shifted immediately.
Not dramatically.
No alarms.
No running.
Just posture.
Language.
The awareness that whatever this was had moved beyond four people trying to solve an ugly maintenance question.
Reyes made the call.
Within twenty minutes, we were told to preserve all records and suspend disposition of every identified module from the lot pending review.
That did not ground a fleet.
It did not prove a defect.
It did not vindicate an old disagreement.
It simply stopped the pieces from moving.
Sometimes that was the first responsible act available.
At 12:03, Haskell found Captain Ortiz.
He was no longer flying Navy aircraft.
He had separated two years earlier and now worked for a civilian aerospace contractor in Maryland.
“Can we call him?” Priya asked.
“Not casually,” Reyes said.
“Why?”
“Because we are now inside a formal safety review.”
Priya made a face.
“So paperwork.”
“Procedure.”
“Those are cousins.”
Haskell smiled.
Reyes did not.
“I’ll request contact authorization.”
My phone buzzed again.
This time it was Graham.
I stared at his name before answering.
“Sir.”
“Don’t call me sir.”
I stepped into the hallway.
“What happened?”
There was a pause.
“I wanted to tell you Chase is fine.”
“I assumed he was.”
“Evan hit him once.”
“I heard.”
“Chase deserved a lot of things.”
Graham paused.
“That wasn’t one of them.”
“No.”
“I told Evan the same.”
I leaned against the wall.
“How is Diane?”
“Furious.”
“At who?”
“Yes.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Graham cleared his throat.
“I also wanted to tell you the post is being passed around.”
“I’m aware.”
“People are calling the house.”
That surprised me.
“Who?”
“Friends.”
He sounded disgusted.
“One local reporter.”
My smile disappeared.
“Do not talk to anyone.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
I let the silence answer.
He sighed.
“Fair.”
“Seriously, Graham.”
“I know.”
He stopped.
Then corrected himself.
“I understand.”
That mattered.
Small thing.
Still.
I looked through the narrow window in the corridor door.
Haskell was gesturing at the laptop while Priya shook her head.
Reyes was on another secure call.
“I need to go.”
“Lauren.”
I waited.
“I owe you an apology that isn’t happening over the phone.”
“Okay.”
“I mean a real one.”
“I heard you.”
“I don’t expect that to fix anything.”
“Good.”
His breath moved softly across the line.
“You sound exactly like my old executive officer.”
“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”
“It was not meant as one.”
I smiled again.
Then his voice changed.
“Chase is ashamed.”
“That’s his problem.”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“But he’s also scared.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of what?”
“Of you.”
That answer irritated me immediately.
“He assaulted me.”
“I know.”
“And now he’s scared of me?”
“Not physically.”
Graham sounded tired.
“He thinks your career means everyone at dinner saw what he’s made of.”
“They did.”
“He thinks this will follow him.”
“He posted it online.”
“Yes.”
“That was his choice.”
“Yes.”
I waited for the defense.
It did not come.
Graham said, “I’m not asking you to protect him.”
“Good.”
“I’m telling you because I think he’s going to do something stupid.”
I looked at my phone screen.
“What kind of stupid?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“He left the house twenty minutes ago.”
“Where did he go?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did he take his phone?”
“Yes.”
“Did Evan go after him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I told him to stop solving family problems with his fists.”
Reasonable.
Late, but reasonable.
“Graham, I cannot manage Chase today.”
“I know.”
There it was again.
From somebody else this time.
I almost told him not to say it.
Instead I said, “If he contacts the media, do not respond.”
“Understood.”
“If he contacts my command, do not interfere.”
“Understood.”
“If he shows up at a military installation, he needs to follow instructions.”
That made Graham go quiet.
“You think he would?”
“I think he’s embarrassed and angry.”
“That isn’t the same as dangerous.”
“No.”
I pressed my fingers against my temple.
“But embarrassed people make very creative mistakes.”
He gave a low sound that might have been agreement.
“I’ll call if I hear from him.”
“Fine.”
I ended the call.
When I returned, Reyes was waiting.
“Family emergency?”
“Potential stupidity.”
“That category needs its own duty code.”
Haskell said, “We’d never go home.”
Priya pointed at the screen.
“We found another problem.”
I stepped closer.
She had opened a scanned engineering memo attached to a later maintenance action.
The document referenced supplemental vibration testing performed during the original Kerr review.
“There,” she said.
A paragraph near the bottom stated that two modules from the lot had shown intermittent signal deviation under combined heat and vibration loads.
The deviations had not exceeded certification tolerance.
Haskell read the next sentence aloud.
“Further destructive testing not recommended due to limited replacement inventory.”
The room became still.
May you like
Reyes said, “Read that again.”
He did.
