Chapter 7 - The Ghost in EngineeringThe photograph had been taken in a passageway aboard the Vanguard.
The man in it wore civilian work clothes and carried a maintenance toolbox. His face was older than in the archived personnel record, and a scar ran along his jaw.
But there was no mistaking him.
Commander Samuel Ortiz.
The officer who had supposedly disappeared seven years earlier.
"Who sent this?" I asked.
The communications officer shook his head.
"The message originated inside the ship's network."
"Inside?"
"Yes, ma'am. It was routed through a maintenance terminal."
I looked at Reeves.
"Find the person in that photograph."
He immediately dispatched security teams to the engineering spaces.
The search took twenty minutes.
They found no one matching Ortiz's description in the ordinary personnel compartments, but one sailor remembered seeing an unfamiliar maintenance worker near the auxiliary machinery room.
The worker had disappeared through a restricted hatch.
Reeves and I went down ourselves.
The machinery spaces were loud and warm, filled with the rhythmic vibration of pumps and ventilation systems. My prosthesis clicked softly against the metal deck as I followed Reeves through a narrow passage.
At the end of the corridor, a steel door stood slightly ajar.
The compartment beyond was dark.
Reeves raised a hand, signaling the security officers behind us to wait.
"Commander Ortiz?" he called.
No answer.
He stepped through the doorway.
"Commander, this is Daniel Reeves. You know me."
A shadow moved behind a stack of equipment.
Then a man emerged slowly, holding both hands away from his body.
His face was thinner than the photograph. His hair had turned nearly white.
But his eyes were exactly the same.
"Reeves," he whispered.
Reeves stared.
"We thought you were dead."
"I was supposed to be."
I stepped forward.
"Commander Samuel Ortiz. I'm Vice Admiral Elizabeth Ward."
His gaze dropped briefly to my prosthetic before returning to my face.
Recognition spread across his expression.
"The woman from Kandar."
"You've heard of me."
"I read the report about the rescue. You brought eleven men home."
"One of them told his son. Apparently, that son is serving aboard this ship."
Ortiz glanced toward the corridor.
"Jackson Hale is here?"
"No. Jackson Ward. My son."
He looked confused for a moment, then understanding dawned.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I've been hiding for so long that the names have begun to blur."
"Why are you hiding?"
He laughed bitterly.
"Because the people who destroyed the original investigation still have friends in places where paperwork disappears."
He explained that seven years earlier, he had discovered evidence of systematic fraud involving replacement components supplied by Northstar. Some of the delivered equipment had never been installed. Other parts had been purchased from manufacturers that no longer existed.
When a fire killed three sailors, Ortiz examined the maintenance records and discovered that several components had been falsely listed as replaced.
He reported the discrepancies.
Within a week, his office had been searched, his computer seized, and his access revoked.
He was accused of mishandling classified materials.
Before the disciplinary process began, someone contacted him with a warning.
The warning included photographs of his wife and daughter.
He left his official post and disappeared.
"Why didn't you go to the authorities?" I asked.
"I tried. Twice."
"What happened?"
"The first complaint vanished. The second reached a senior official who informed the people I was reporting."
I felt cold settle inside me.
"Who?"
Ortiz hesitated.
Then he gave me the name.
"Adrian Cole."
The same consultant linked to Northstar's contracts.
"Why are you aboard the Vanguard?" I asked.
"Because I never stopped investigating."
He opened a metal case and removed a small storage device.
"I found a copy of the original procurement ledger buried in a backup system. It links Northstar to at least six separate maintenance failures."
"Does it include the current contract?"
"Yes."
"Then why not send it directly to the Inspector General?"
"I tried."
He looked at Reeves.
"My last transmission was intercepted. Someone responded using a credential assigned to a senior officer."
"Which officer?"
Ortiz met my gaze.
"Vice Admiral, whoever is behind this has access to the most restricted systems in the Navy."
Before I could ask another question, an alarm sounded.
The ship's lights flickered once.
Then the compartment went dark.
Reeves reached for his radio.
"Control, this is Commander Reeves. Report."
Static answered him.
Ortiz moved quickly toward a panel on the wall.
"That shouldn't be happening."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Someone has triggered a power isolation sequence in the engineering network."
"Can they shut down essential systems?"
"If the sequence completes, yes."
Reeves's radio crackled.
A voice announced that an unauthorized override had disabled several safety interlocks.
Then came a second announcement.
The ship's internal security system had locked down multiple compartments.
We were sealed inside the engineering section.
I looked at Ortiz.
"Can you reverse it?"
"Not without access to the master control terminal."
"Where is it?"
He pointed toward the far end of the passage.
"On the other side of the locked bulkhead."
A metallic thud echoed through the compartment.
Then another.
Someone was trying to open the outer door.
Reeves raised his weapon.
I held out a hand.
"Wait."
The door handle stopped moving.
A voice came through the metal.
"Admiral Ward."
It was Captain Miller.
His tone had lost all trace of ceremony-day politeness.
"I suggest you come out quietly. We need to have a conversation about national security."
Ortiz's face went white.
He whispered three words.
"The original ledger."
I looked at the door.
May you like
Miller knew exactly what we had found.
And he was not asking for a conversation.
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