Chapter 10 - What Northstar Buried
The marking was smaller than Derek’s thumbnail.
Dr. Sloan noticed it while inspecting the fragment beneath magnification before it was transferred as evidence.
Three letters.
Two numbers.
A stamped maintenance identifier.
BX-17.
Derek recognized it immediately when Sloan showed him a photograph.
His face went still.
“What?” Nadia asked.
Derek looked toward Samantha.
“Do you remember a BX series notice?”
Samantha frowned.
“Blackwater conduit supports?”
“Yes.”
She thought.
Then her eyes widened.
“Oh.”
“What?” Keane asked.
Samantha looked sick.
“Six months ago there was a maintenance bulletin.”
“About BX-17?”
“I don’t remember the exact number.”
“What did it say?”
“Corrosion in older mounting brackets.”
Derek looked at the photograph again.
The object that had punctured his arm had not simply belonged to the hidden conduit.
It might have been part of hardware already known to be deteriorating.
Clara Wynn contacted the state investigator.
Within an hour, Northstar received a formal preservation request covering Blackwater Reach.
Route maps.
Gas-system logs.
Maintenance records.
Training approvals.
Medical communications.
Nobody at Harbor Crest knew exactly what regulators would find.
But by 9:00 a.m., one fact was undeniable.
Derek’s arm had become evidence.
He hated that.
“Feels strange,” he told Nadia.
“What?”
“People talking about my tissue samples like chain of custody.”
“You could ask them not to.”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“If it keeps this from happening again.”
Nadia changed his IV tubing.
“Then stop acting surprised that you matter to the investigation.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“You look surprised.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
“Apparently.”
Derek had slept twenty-three minutes.
Nadia had slept zero.
Her shift had ended two hours earlier.
Lorraine finally cornered her.
“Go home.”
“I’m fine.”
“Those words should be banned in hospitals.”
“I want to see the cultures.”
“You can see them tonight.”
“What if—”
“Nadia.”
Lorraine folded her arms.
“You advocated correctly for a patient. Congratulations. You are not now personally responsible for keeping every diver alive through force of will.”
Nadia looked through the glass at Derek.
Lorraine softened.
“He has three physicians, a surgeon, infectious disease, hyperbarics, and enough nurses to start a softball team.”
Nadia smiled reluctantly.
“Go home.”
Derek noticed the exchange.
“She’s right.”
Nadia turned.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I meant tired.”
“Much better.”
Derek’s expression became serious.
“Go sleep.”
“Promise you won’t leave against medical advice?”
“Absolutely not.”
“That wasn’t convincing.”
“I’m attached to enough machinery that escaping would require planning.”
“You plan for a living.”
“Good point.”
She pointed at him.
“Stay.”
“Yes, Nurse Carver.”
As Nadia left, the morning sunlight felt unreal.
Harbor Crest disappeared behind her.
Traffic moved.
Coffee shops opened.
People walked dogs.
Nobody outside seemed to know that six miles offshore, eight days earlier, a sequence of tiny decisions had nearly killed four men.
At home, Nadia lay down.
She expected to sleep instantly.
Instead she replayed Keane’s voice.
That diagnosis is impossible.
Then Derek’s sleeve.
The puncture.
The CT.
Caleb unconscious.
She wondered what would have happened if she had obeyed the first answer.
That thought frightened her more than anything else.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
This is Derek. Lorraine gave me your number after I promised it was medically important.
Nadia stared.
Another message appeared.
Medical update: I have not escaped.
She laughed.
Then:
Eli moved both legs. Caleb is awake. Marcus is complaining about hospital food, so prognosis seems excellent.
Nadia’s eyes filled unexpectedly.
She typed:
And you?
The reply took longer.
Arm still attached. Pride under observation.
She smiled.
Then put the phone down.
She slept for five hours.
When she returned that evening, Harbor Crest looked like a different building.
Security at the entrance.
Reporters outside.
A state investigator in the conference room.
Derek transferred to a regular monitored unit.
Eli sitting up.
Marcus walking carefully with assistance.
Caleb awake enough to complain about the number of questions people kept asking.
It felt like victory.
Then Keane called Nadia into a consultation room.
“What happened?” she asked.
He closed the door.
“Samantha’s digital records were reviewed.”
“And?”
“The analyzer fault was documented twelve hours before the dive.”
“So Northstar definitely knew.”
“Several employees knew it had failed.”
“Halpern?”
“His login acknowledged the fault.”
Nadia stared.
“That’s huge.”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
“Because there’s another document.”
He placed a printed email on the table.
Nadia read it.
It was a message from Northstar engineering sent five months earlier.
Subject:
BLACKWATER BX SUPPORT FAILURE RISK
The message warned of accelerated corrosion affecting specific mounting brackets along the conduit.
One identifier appeared halfway down the page.
BX-17.
The same marking on the fragment removed from Derek’s arm.
Nadia sat down.
“They knew both things.”
“Apparently.”
“The gas problem.”
“Yes.”
“The cable problem.”
“Yes.”
“Why would they run the dive?”
Keane shook his head.
“That’s not a medical question.”
“No.”
“But I want the answer too.”
The next answer came from Samantha.
She had spent the day with investigators reviewing her files.
When she arrived on the unit, she looked exhausted.
“Budget.”
Derek stared.
“What?”
“You asked why.”
She sat down.
“Northstar had a municipal contract review next week. Blackwater was behind schedule. If the training certification didn’t happen, they couldn’t staff the inspection phase on time.”
Derek’s face became cold.
“So they ran it.”
“Apparently.”
“Knowing the analyzer failed.”
“Yes.”
“Knowing the support hardware had warnings.”
“Yes.”
“Knowing the route map conflicted.”
“Yes.”
Derek stared out the window.
For a long time nobody spoke.
Then he asked:
“How much?”
Samantha frowned.
“What?”
“How much money?”
“I don’t know.”
“How much was one week worth?”
She understood.
“I don’t know.”
Derek nodded.
“Four injured divers.”
Nadia watched him.
“That’s not how they’ll describe it.”
“No.”
“How will they?”
He turned.
“Operational pressure. Communication gaps. Process failures.”
His voice hardened.
“Language designed so nobody has to say somebody decided a deadline mattered more than people.”
Samantha looked down.
“You’re going public?”
Derek thought.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I want evidence finished before anyone turns this into personalities.”
Nadia was impressed.
“You don’t want revenge?”
He looked at her.
“I want nobody else breathing from an unverified tank because somebody was worried about a schedule.”
That night, Derek underwent his second surgical washout.
No additional large fragments were found.
Tissue looked healthier.
Cultures identified a treatable marine gram-negative organism.
Antibiotics were adjusted.
His arm would require rehabilitation.
But the surgeon believed he would keep full function.
When Nadia told him, Derek closed his eyes.
“Say it again.”
“You’re expected to regain full function.”
“Again.”
She smiled.
“You’re keeping the arm.”
He laughed softly.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Keane asked me to speak to the investigator.”
“Yes.”
“I want you there.”
Nadia blinked.
“Why?”
“You were the first person who listened.”
“This is your statement.”
“I know.”
“Then why me?”
Derek looked at the bandage.
“Because when I start minimizing things, you notice.”
She stared at him.
“That is the most emotionally healthy thing you’ve said since admission.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
The investigator arrived at 8:00 the next morning.
Derek told the story from beginning to end.
He did not protect Northstar.
He did not protect himself either.
He admitted ignoring early symptoms.
Admitted accepting occupational health reassurance too easily.
Admitted he had stayed silent partly because he feared destroying younger divers’ careers.
When he finished, the investigator asked one final question.
“Mr. Vance, in your professional judgment, could this incident have been prevented?”
Derek looked through the observation window.
Eli walked slowly down the hallway with a physical therapist.
Marcus sat with his wife.
Caleb slept while his mother held his hand.
Derek answered:
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Somebody had to say no.”
The investigator nodded.
Later that afternoon, Northstar suspended operations at Blackwater Reach.
Grant Halpern was placed on administrative leave.
The story reached national industry media.
And for several hours, it seemed the worst had passed.
Then Dr. Shah entered Derek’s room carrying new laboratory results.
Her expression was not reassuring.
“The blood cultures changed.”
Nadia’s stomach tightened.
Derek looked at Shah.
“What does that mean?”
“We have growth.”
“In my blood?”
“Yes.”
“From the same organism?”
“We’re confirming.”
He went very still.
“So surgery wasn’t enough.”
Shah pulled up a chair.
“It means the infection was not only local.”
Derek looked at Nadia.
“How bad?”
Shah did not soften it.
“Potentially serious.”
After everything—
the dive,
the decompression injury,
the hidden cable,
the surgery,
the corporate investigation—
the smallest thing Derek had tried to ignore was still inside him.
The puncture.
The bacteria.
The invisible threat.
And this time, the danger was no longer confined to his arm.
May you like
By midnight, Derek developed his first true fever—and Nadia would face the most frightening possibility yet: that they had discovered the truth in time to save his career, but not necessarily in time to save him.
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