44. Survival

John hoped he can discreetly slip out as the proceedings end. He caught himself tapping his left feet rhythmically again and again. Unsure of the source, he thought it may be all what’s happening in a short period of time, feeling unable to get back in control. Leading of previous investigations could not prepare him to deal with this.

The case is about to go in a scientifically uncharted territory, the press and public pressures authorities to give quick and satisfying answer about their loved ones or just to stir more drama bumping audience.

When each servicemen and women around him stepped to the altar one by one, murmuring a short pray in their own ways, he could not drag himself there. Took his steps toward the same door Michael dispersed the crowd, hoping nobody is crazy enough to return there.

As the heavy doors’ mechanism pulled them apart into their slots, the diplomat questioning him stood in his way out. Standing firm, gaze locked onto John, cutting like knife.

• “You, the hell you were thinking going down with an army?” — words spitted one by one, with measure and weight to each.
• “Doing my job, Mr. Coldman.” — John hid his gulping reflex.
• “Is massacring innocents your job then?” — Coldman kept blocking John’s way.
• “Innocents? We were defending ourselves. As a federal investigator I have the authority…”
• “You are not at the federation core, here you don’t have that. This is neutral space, the colonial government is now on our throats over the civilian deaths and we are inclined to give them a… anything or anyone, to chew on.”
• “Is that a threat, Mr. Coldman?” — John still playing the confident man.
• “Consider it a warning, Mr. Sotomayor.” — Coldman stepping forward to get in John’s face.
• “The Safety Board is independent from your diplomatic corp.”
• “We will see about that after the president has been briefed.”

Their standoff came to an end only as the marines started pouring out, respects paid, threats exchanged, everyone goes on with their days. John could barely focus on the dry whitepapers Ben was able to pull for him.

Sitting in front of the air-gapped machine’s screens for hours on end, his back stiffing up, shoulders pain with every move. As his focus shifted, forgetting about Coldman as he went deeper into dark net conspiracies, he saw the dots forming on his mental map. Feeling the connections slipping from him, pulled a paper and pen, drawing boxes and lines to make any sense out of dense arguments.

• “Hanah, we need an experiment. We can’t bring the dark matter theory into the reports if we don’t prove it. Get the team to work out ways by tomorrow end of day. We may not have much time to close the case… I know, I know, just get to work on it please, have a run through during our morning check in. Talk to you later.” — speaking softly into his hands, timed the message for an hour and a half later.

Just to send this while he was about to visit the captain. The week barely started and all plans went out the window about how to close the case. His instincts told him to keep digging for the truth. While his mind wanted to settle the satisfactory explanations.

Over the weeks they managed to establish many systems and processes were broken, subpar, unmaintained on the Giant. Pieces of the wreckage collected showed fatigue set in even before the accident. Regular maintenance scans done by the different port authorities showed common issues while neither of them would trigger a deny of leave, the sheer amount of them was a sign of negligence.

Black box data was spotty even before the event, many sensors not reporting anything, not even their own self-diagnostics, meaning they were totally broken. Such sensors that were part of the safety systems. Circuit breakers to shut down the engines when confinement was breached never activated. The sensors at the suspected breach point were inoperable for months, again the black boxes collaborated.

The Safety Board investigators were trained to use science, not to develop new science on the fly. The question of sudden deceleration was the only thing out of line from the basic flying garbage as junior investigators used to call these cases.

John’s affinity for details and precision did not let him to settle comfortably with this explanation. Not when so many lives were lost. When so many did their best to help them in need, despite risking their own lives of livelihoods. Some may get governmental support and insurance money back, some will never be made whole, just like the Perseus Train’s crew, being the makeshift leaders of the relief fleet for months.

As John scanned these details, bullet points he collected in his notes, structuring the final report into its shape, the outline filling up slowly with details. Noting, categorizing and filing supporting evidence here and there. Attaching data files with traceable identifiers courts can rely on. He slipped into his old work habit, almost missing the alarm he set.

Late by a minute, he ringed the doorbell and a green light invited him in.

• “Sorry for being late, had much to work on…” — his sight stopped on the cadet he met the first day. Just now he realized he never asked for his name. Captain and him sitting on the couch, sipping teas. — “Am I bothering? Can come back later.”
• “No, we were waiting for you.” — Victoria’s poker face shared no emotion with John — “Cadet Pier mentioned how you first met. Catch up. Fast.”
• “Cadet Pier? You have any relationship with Vince Pier of the Perseus Train?”
• “Yes, I am him, sir.”

John measured up the cadet, size, main features same as the filed description. Yet his face he could not recognize. John’s memory was perfect, this man may be lying.

• “Tell me, why your identification data shows a different face.”
• “Oh, I went through many surgeries. Then enrolled with a field commission from Victoria. From Captain Sebes. Sir. Don’t know if updates to my file has reached central records.”
• “Central records show that you are deceased.” — John took a seat in a separate armchair facing them.
• “Well, don’t know what to say about that, I am very much alive. Sir.”

Read the story leading up to now:

Giant of the Stars

Fictional story of a luxury starliner’s catastrophy