Captain's Log, Supplemental
DDSN-X100 USS Discovery
Captain James Nolan recording
Christening Date plus 30 days (estimated)
Oort Cloud
The ship is alone.
No support.
No signals.
We endure.
Amir al-Rashid moved through the lower decks like a man carrying a secret that had grown too heavy for his chest. The corridors were quieter than usual—most of the crew either on shift or snatching sleep in the long hours of repair work—and the soft thrum of the ship's systems felt louder in his ears, a constant reminder that every step he took was still inside her. He kept his pace even, deliberate, the way he always did when he was trying not to look like he was trying not to be seen. His engineering jacket was zipped high, hood pulled low enough to shadow his face, but he didn't run. Running drew attention. He had learned that the hard way.
He had learned a lot in the days since the rift.
The ship was alone in the Oort cloud—no support, no signals, no way home yet. Repairs crawled forward—slow, stubborn, the way wounded ships always healed when their people refused to let them die. But the investigation had started. Lt. Commander Mara Voss—intelligence officer—had begun asking questions, pulling logs, running diagnostics that should have been routine. She hadn't found anything yet, but Amir knew she would.
The interlock shunt Petty Officer Kim had pulled from ring nine was gone—disappeared from the evidence locker in the engineering bay under the cover of a power flicker Patel blamed on residual coil feedback. Amir had taken it himself, destroyed it with a plasma torch in a quiet maintenance alcove, and watched the evidence melt into slag. The cut had been clean, precise, made with a micro-tool—the same kind every engineer carried for fine work. He made sure it couldn't redirect current when the charge hit.
He hated himself for it.
Every night since, the guilt had clawed at him. He wasn't a traitor. He was protecting his family. That was what he told himself, over and over, until the words felt like a shield. But the shield was cracking. He kept seeing Henry's empty chair in the ready room. Kept hearing Dragon's quiet grunt of acknowledgement when they passed in the corridor. Kept feeling the weight of every crew member who had trusted the ship—and trusted him—to keep them safe.
He needed to get to the shuttle bay.
There was no scheduled parts run—there couldn't be, not here, not with the ship alone. But a supply shuttle was prepped for a recon hop to a nearby Oort object—nothing critical, just ice samples and sensor calibration. The shuttle would be unguarded for a few minutes while the pilot ran preflight. If he could get aboard, slip into the cargo hold, he might make it to the surface of one of the larger fragments—hide long enough to think. Long enough to decide whether to run or confess.
He hated himself for even thinking it.
The corridor ahead opened into the main transit hub—wide, brightly lit, too exposed. He hesitated, pulse hammering. Footsteps behind him—sharp, deliberate. Amir turned, casual as he could manage. Lt. Commander Mara Voss stood at the junction, arms folded, eyes locked on him. "Lieutenant al-Rashid," she said, voice calm, professional. "A word."
His throat closed.
She stepped closer, one hand resting lightly on the holster at her hip—not a threat, just presence. "I've been reviewing coil diagnostics from the jump," she said. "Interesting anomalies. Interlocks that failed to shunt current. Clean cuts on components that couldn't have been mere battle stress." Amir forced his face to be neutral. "I wouldn't know, ma'am. I was in the coil room thirty minutes before the jump. Routine check."
Voss tilted her head. "Routine. Yes. And yet the shunt from ring nine was tampered with. The cut was deliberate. Precise. Done with a micro-tool—the same kind that engineers use for fine work. The kind that leaves a very specific micro-abrasion pattern on the alloy." Amir kept his breathing level. "Could've been damage from the overload."
"Could've been," Voss agreed. "But the cut was made before the overload. Before the jump. The tool marks are fresh. No oxidation. Someone did this intentionally, knowing the current would lock high when the charge hit." She studied him, not pressing for answers so much as watching. His hands. His shoulders. The way his eyes flicked away for half a second.
"You were alone in that section," she continued, voice even. "The logs show you signed in for a routine alignment check. Thirty-two minutes before jump. Plenty of time to thin an interlock and reroute the diagnostic path so every sensor still read green." Amir's pulse hammered against his ribs. He could feel the sweat gathering at the small of his back.
"I was just doing my job, ma'am," he said, voice steadier than he felt. Voss didn't blink. "I'm not asking what you did, Lieutenant. I'm asking why." She took one step closer. "Someone tried to kill this ship. And everyone on her. Including you. Why would you help them?"
Amir's mouth opened, but no words came.
The lights flickered—once, hard. A low groan rippled through the deck. Voss's hand went to her comm. "Bridge, report." Static. Then Bennett's voice—tight. "Power fluctuation. Coils spiking again." Voss's eyes locked on Amir's.
He ran.
She didn't shout after him.
But he knew she would follow.
The black was wide.
And the shadows inside it were closing.
Captain's Log, closing entry – Chapter 16 complete
The hunt is on.
The shadows are closer.
We must find the truth.
James Nolan, Captain
DDSN-X100 USS Discovery
Oort Cloud