Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Was in Two Places
Mara did not run.
Not immediately.
She stared at Ward as alarms echoed through the compartment.
“You want me to run on a naval vessel after security just named me as a suspect?”
Ward grabbed her arm.
“If they reach this compartment before we know who controls that alert, you disappear into custody.”
“I’m innocent.”
“That may not matter.”
Heavy footsteps sounded outside.
Reyes closed the door.
“Captain?”
Ward pointed toward the rear medical storage room.
“Service passage.”
Cole returned from the adjoining compartment.
“What is happening?”
“No time,” Ward said.
Mara resisted as he pulled her toward the storage room.
“Ward.”
He stopped.
“If I run, I look guilty.”
“If you stay, someone else controls the story.”
That convinced her.
Cole opened a narrow maintenance hatch.
Mara stared at it.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Move.”
She crawled inside.
Ward followed.
Reyes closed the hatch behind them.
The passage was barely wide enough for their shoulders.
Mara crawled through darkness while pain stabbed through her bruised ribs.
Behind her, Ward whispered directions.
“Left.”
She turned.
“Down the ladder.”
They emerged two decks below in an engineering access corridor.
Mara leaned against the wall.
“What now?”
“We find out who used your credentials.”
“You have a suspect?”
“No.”
“I do.”
Ward stared at her.
Mara finally told him about the transmissions.
Four unauthorized encrypted bursts.
All routed through the ship’s communications network.
All disguised as diagnostic traffic.
Ward listened without interrupting.
“When?”
“The first was nine days ago.”
“We were in San Diego.”
“The second was six days ago.”
“Pearl Harbor.”
“The third?”
“Two days ago.”
“At sea.”
“And the fourth happened this morning.”
Ward’s expression hardened.
“So someone aboard the Resolute has been transmitting our movements.”
“Possibly.”
“To whom?”
“I don’t know.”
They reached an unused maintenance office.
Ward locked the door.
Mara sat at an old terminal.
The machine was isolated from the primary network.
Perfect.
She inserted a diagnostic drive hidden inside her uniform seam.
Ward noticed.
“You carried that into the ocean?”
“I carry backups.”
The screen flickered.
Mara began typing.
Minutes passed.
Then she found the access record.
14:20:03.
User: VOSS_M.
Archive request accepted.
Ward leaned closer.
“Can you locate the terminal?”
Mara traced the authentication path.
The answer appeared.
TERMINAL C4-17.
Ward frowned.
“That terminal is in Communications.”
“Who was working there?”
Ward checked his watch.
“Lieutenant Mercer.”
Mara knew him.
Evan Mercer.
Thirty-four.
Quiet.
Competent.
He had helped her on her first day aboard.
“He had access to my workstation yesterday,” she said.
“Enough to steal your credentials?”
“Possibly.”
Ward reached for the radio.
Mara stopped him.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if Mercer did this, arresting him tells whoever he’s working with that we know.”
Ward lowered the radio.
“What do you suggest?”
“We watch.”
Mara accessed another log.
Then she froze.
There was a fifth transmission.
It had been sent three minutes ago.
Ward read the destination identifier.
“What does that mean?”
Mara felt her stomach tighten.
“It means whoever is doing this knows I survived.”
“How?”
“Because the message is only twelve characters.”
She translated the encrypted header.
WARD FAILED.
Ward stared at the screen.
A knock came from outside.
Three sharp taps.
Then two.
Ward drew his sidearm.
“Who is it?”
“Reyes.”
Ward opened the door.
Reyes slipped inside.
“You both need to see something.”
He handed Mara a tablet.
Security footage.
Timestamp 14:19.
A woman entered Communications.
Dark hair.
Naval uniform.
Approximately Mara’s height.
She turned toward the camera.
Mara’s blood went cold.
The woman looked exactly like her.
Ward replayed the footage.
“That’s impossible.”
“No,” Mara whispered.
The image was imperfect.
The face was hers, but not quite.
Synthetic video.
Or someone wearing a sophisticated facial overlay.
Reyes looked between them.
“If security believes this footage—”
“They’ll believe I accessed the archive,” Mara said.
Ward studied the screen.
“But why frame you?”
Mara enlarged the image.
There.
On the woman’s wrist.
A bracelet.
Small.
Silver.
She had seen it before.
“Stop.”
Ward looked at her.
Mara zoomed closer.
A tiny compass charm hung from the bracelet.
“Do you recognize it?”
Mara nodded.
“Lieutenant Mercer doesn’t own that bracelet.”
“Then who does?”
Mara looked at Ward.
“Your executive officer.”
Commander Elise Grant.
Ward’s second-in-command.
One of the most trusted officers aboard the Resolute.
Ward shook his head.
“No.”
“I saw her wearing it yesterday.”
“That proves nothing.”
“No. But it gives us somewhere to start.”
Ward paced.
“Elise has served with me for eight years.”
“Then either she’s involved or somebody wants us to believe she is.”
Reyes suddenly raised a hand.
Footsteps.
Outside.
Ward killed the monitor.
A voice came through the door.
“Captain Ward?”
Commander Grant.
All three exchanged looks.
“Captain, I know you’re in there.”
Ward slowly unlocked the door.
Grant stood alone.
She looked at Mara.
Relief crossed her face.
“Thank God.”
Mara watched her wrist.
No bracelet.
Grant entered.
“Security has orders to detain Mara.”
“Whose orders?” Ward asked.
“Mine.”
Ward stiffened.
Grant continued.
“Because the evidence shows her entering Communications.”
“It isn’t her.”
“I know.”
Mara studied her.
Grant reached into her pocket.
She produced a silver bracelet.
The compass charm dangled beneath it.
Mara’s hand moved instinctively toward the table.
Grant noticed.
“You saw this in the footage.”
“Yes.”
“So did I.”
“Why are you carrying it?”
“Because it was stolen from my cabin this morning.”
Ward stared at her.
Grant placed the bracelet on the table.
“Someone is framing both of us.”
Silence.
Then Grant looked directly at Mara.
“And they aren’t finished.”
She pulled out a folded navigation chart.
A red circle had been drawn over a location in the Pacific.
“What is this?” Ward asked.
“I found it inside my locked desk.”
Mara read the coordinates.
Ward’s face drained of color.
“You recognize them,” Mara said.
“Yes.”
“What’s there?”
Ward hesitated.
Then answered.
“Nothing.”
Mara frowned.
“Nothing?”
“Open ocean. No shipping lane. No scheduled exercise.”
Grant pointed toward the handwritten note beneath the coordinates.
Three words.
BRING HER HERE.
Mara stared at the message.
“Me?”
Grant nodded.
“The coordinates are six hours away.”
Ward looked at both women.
“Someone wants this ship to change course.”
Mara suddenly understood the unauthorized transmissions.
“They weren’t sending your location.”
Ward looked at her.
“What?”
“They were testing whether they could manipulate your network without being detected.”
“To do what?”
Mara turned toward the navigation terminal.
“To control where the Resolute goes.”
A deep vibration passed through the deck.
The engines changed pitch.
Ward’s head snapped upward.
He knew his ship.
“That’s a course correction.”
Grant grabbed the intercom.
“Bridge, this is Commander Grant. Confirm heading.”
Static.
No response.
She tried again.
“Bridge?”
Nothing.
Ward opened the maintenance-office door.
The corridor lights suddenly went red.
Emergency lighting.
Then the ship turned.
Mara felt it beneath her feet.
Not gradually.
Decisively.
Toward the coordinates.
Ward looked at the navigation chart.
May you like
Someone had just taken control of the Resolute.
And whoever had done it was steering hundreds of sailors toward an empty patch of ocean where, according to every official chart, absolutely nothing existed.
