The glass was cold against my forehead.

If the *Oregon* failed, it would ground the entire Pacific fleet during a period of high regional tension.

The door to my office opened.

Vice Admiral Bell walked in, holding a black tablet.

“The *Oregon* has successfully blown her ballast,” he said. “She is on the surface.”

I let out a breath, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly.

“Are they stable?” I asked.

“For now,” Bell said. “But the port side shaft is locked. They are operating on auxiliary power.”

He stepped closer, setting the tablet on my desk.

“That is not the only issue,” he said.

The screen showed a second flashing amber icon, this one located in the South China Sea.

“The *USS Hampton*,” I read aloud.

“They just reported a minor pressure drop in their auxiliary cooling system,” Bell said. “The same batch of couplings.”

I looked at him, the conflict of my recusal warring with my duty.

“You are off the legal case, Evelyn,” Bell said. “But I need you to coordinate the rerouting of these vessels.”

“I shouldn’t be looking at this data, Thomas,” I said.