“That is the correct protocol, Evelyn,” Bell said. “But we need your expertise.”

“I will not touch the evidentiary files or the prosecution strategy,” I said. “But I will not abandon the operational loop.”

“Agreed,” Bell said. “Those ships are still your responsibility.”

“I will sign the formal memorandum immediately,” I said.

I walked out of the secure room, the heavy steel door clicking shut behind me.

In the hallway, the air was cold, smelling of floor wax and old paper.

Caroline was sitting on a wooden bench against the wall, her face buried in her hands.

She looked up when she heard my boots on the linoleum.

Her eyes were red, her makeup smudged beneath her lower lids.

“Is it true?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“The *Oregon* is having a critical failure,” I said, sitting down beside her.

She shook her head, her hands trembling as she clutched her leather purse.

“Not just that,” she whispered. “Dad. He kept asking me about Nathan’s schedule.”

I watched her face closely.

“He wanted to know exactly when Nathan’s team would be conducting the deep-dive trials,” she said.