Chapter 2: The Secret Below Deck
The man standing in my doorway didn’t look like someone who belonged on the Resolute.
His uniform was perfect.
Too perfect.
The kind of perfect that meant he cared more about appearances than duty.
He stared at the evidence packet.
Then at me.
Then back at the packet.
“You should put that away,” he said.
I didn’t move.
“Who are you?””
He ignored the question.
“That file will get you killed.””
The words hung between us.
Not as a threat.
As a fact.
I tightened my grip around the packet.
“Who sent you?””
His jaw tightened.
Nobody answered.
That told me enough.
I had dealt with men like him before.
People who believed silence was loyalty.
People who thought following orders meant they didn’t have responsibility.
I stepped closer.
“Did Kane send you?””
His eyes shifted.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“Yes.””
The answer came quietly.
My stomach sank.
“How many people know about this?””
He looked away.
“Too many.””
“Then why is the file still here?””
His face changed.
For the first time, I saw something human.
Fear.
“Because someone wants you to find the truth.””
I stared at him.
“That makes no sense.””
“It will.””
He reached for the door.
“Destroy that packet.””
“No.””
He stopped.
Slowly turned back.
“You don’t understand what you’re holding.””
“I understand enough.””
“No, you don’t.””
His voice dropped.
“Deck Four isn’t just about stolen supplies or false reports.””
A chill moved through me.
“Then what is it about?””
He looked at the hallway.
Like he was afraid someone was listening.
Then he whispered:
“It’s about what happened to everyone who tried to expose him.””
The door opened.
Before he left, I asked:
“What happened to them?””
He froze.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then:
“They disappeared.””
The door closed.
I stood alone.
Holding the packet.
Listening to the ship move around me.
The engines.
The footsteps.
The distant voices.
Everything sounded normal.
But I knew better.
Because normal ships didn’t make people disappear.
I spent the next hour reviewing every page.
Every document told the same story.
Missing supplies.
Changed medical records.
Altered reports.
People blamed for problems they didn’t create.
And every trail ended at Deck Four.
The restricted section.
Three months earlier, a technician named Marcus Bell had reported unauthorized activity there.
Two days later, his transfer request was approved.
Nobody had seen him since.
A medical officer named Sarah Cole had documented unusual injuries among crew members.
Her report vanished.
Then she resigned.
A security officer tried to access the area.
His clearance was removed overnight.
Too many coincidences.
Too many people afraid.
I closed the packet.
That was when my communicator buzzed.
A message appeared.
REPORT TO FLIGHT DECK IMMEDIATELY.
NO EXCEPTIONS.
Signed:
Colonel Victor Kane.
I stared at the screen.
He knew.
Somehow, he knew.
I walked toward the flight deck.
Every step felt heavier.
When the doors opened, the sunlight hit my face.
The entire crew was already there.
Standing in formation.
Waiting.
Kane stood at the front.
This time, there was no shade canopy.
No steak.
No bottle of water.
Just him.
And a smile.
A smile that told me he had already decided how this would end.
He looked at me.
“Lieutenant, you have something that belongs to me.””
The entire deck went silent.
I kept my expression calm.
“I don’t know what you mean, sir.””
Kane laughed.
“You always were terrible at lying.””
A few sailors looked between us.
Confused.
Afraid.
Kane walked closer.
“You think a piece of paper makes you powerful?””
I said nothing.
He leaned toward me.
“You should have thrown it away.””
“Why?””
His eyes hardened.
“Because now I have to remove the problem personally.””
The words sent a wave through the formation.
Everyone heard them.
Everyone understood.
But nobody moved.
Nobody wanted to become the next target.
I looked around.
Hundreds of people.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then I looked back at Kane.
“You’re making a mistake.””
He smiled.
“No.””
He stepped closer.
“I’m correcting one.””
His hand moved.
Not toward a weapon.
Not toward the packet.
Toward me.
And as his fingers grabbed my uniform, I realized something.
Kane wasn’t trying to scare me.
He was trying to make an example.
The last thing I heard before the deck disappeared beneath my feet was his voice.
May you like
“Let them remember what happens to people who challenge me.””
Then the world dropped away.
