Chapter 13 - The Cable Housing
Hannah Vance waited until Derek fell asleep.
Then she found Nadia in the hallway.
“I embarrassed him.”
“Deeply.”
“Good.”
Nadia smiled.
Hannah leaned against the wall.
“He needs it.”
“How long has he been like this?”
“Like what?”
“Pretending pain is a private administrative problem.”
Hannah laughed softly.
“Since forever.”
Then her expression changed.
“No. That’s not true.”
Nadia waited.
“Since Afghanistan.”
Nadia was surprised.
“He was military?”
“Navy diving unit.”
“That explains some things.”
“Not the worst things.”
Hannah looked through the glass at her brother.
“Derek had a partner named Michael Trent.”
Nadia stayed quiet.
“They worked together for years. Rescue, recovery, underwater repair. After leaving active service they both went commercial.”
“What happened?”
“Offshore accident nine years ago.”
Hannah’s voice lowered.
“Structural collapse underwater. Michael was trapped.”
Nadia already knew the ending.
“Derek tried to get him out.”
“Yes.”
“He couldn’t.”
“No.”
Hannah looked down.
“Michael died before they could recover him.”
Nadia felt a quiet ache.
“Derek blamed himself.”
“Of course.”
“Was it his fault?”
“The investigation said no.”
“That probably didn’t matter.”
“Not even a little.”
Hannah folded her arms.
“He decided the lesson was that if he were calmer, stronger, better prepared, needed less from other people, nobody would ever die on him again.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Yes.”
Hannah smiled sadly.
“Try telling him.”
Nadia looked at Derek sleeping.
The man who minimized pain.
The supervisor who carried everyone’s careers.
The diver who believed Eli’s illness belonged to him.
Suddenly the pattern made sense.
“You know,” Hannah said, “he used to be funny.”
“He’s occasionally funny now.”
“Occasionally?”
“Under heavy medication.”
Hannah laughed.
Then she touched Nadia’s arm.
“Thank you.”
Nadia shook her head.
“Keane, Sloan, Shah, Chen—there are many people.”
“I know.”
“But you noticed.”
Nadia looked through the glass.
“I nearly didn’t say anything.”
“But you did.”
The next morning Derek learned his repeat blood cultures remained negative.
His fever was gone.
Inflammatory markers were improving.
His arm required weeks of therapy, but Sloan believed the infection was controlled.
Eli had progressed from walker to assisted steps.
Marcus’s balance improved.
Caleb could stand.
Grace Nolan’s carbon monoxide exposure led investigators to inspect Mariner Seven, where they found a ventilation defect near crew quarters.
One project.
Two separate medical hazards.
Multiple ignored alarms.
Northstar’s problems grew by the hour.
But the most important discovery came from BX-17.
Investigators recovered maintenance records confirming the bracket had been flagged for replacement five months earlier.
The repair had been deferred twice.
Reason:
Budget hold pending contract renewal.
Derek read the record quietly.
Nadia watched him.
“What are you thinking?”
“That a piece of postponed maintenance spent eight days inside my arm.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“It’s accurate.”
“Yes.”
He touched the edge of the bandage.
“People think safety failures are dramatic.”
“Explosions?”
“Somebody cutting a wire.”
“Or evil executives laughing in dark rooms?”
“Exactly.”
He handed her the report.
“Usually it’s this.”
She read the line.
Replacement deferred.
Derek continued.
“A box checked later. A repair moved next month. A sensor used one more day.”
“One small compromise.”
“Stack enough of them and somebody gets hurt.”
Nadia looked at him.
“That sounds like something you’ll say during testimony.”
He stared.
“What testimony?”
She blinked.
“You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Clara said investigators want you at the public safety hearing.”
Derek’s face went blank.
“No.”
“Derek.”
“No cameras.”
“You supervise industrial divers two hundred feet underwater but cameras scare you?”
“Yes.”
She laughed.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“I don’t do public tragedy.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not becoming the face of this.”
Nadia pulled up a chair.
“You don’t have to become anything.”
“They’ll want emotion.”
“Probably.”
“Hero story.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m not a hero.”
“Then don’t say you are.”
Derek stared.
“They’ll ask why I approved the dive.”
“Tell them.”
“They’ll ask why I stayed quiet afterward.”
“Tell them.”
“That makes me look bad.”
Nadia raised both eyebrows.
He sighed.
“Right.”
“You keep thinking truth is only useful when it makes you look good.”
“I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
“That’s unfair.”
“No. You hid your symptoms because telling the whole truth could damage careers. You protected everyone—including Northstar—from facts that were messy.”
Derek looked away.
Nadia continued.
“Maybe the useful story isn’t that you did everything right.”
“What is it?”
“That smart, experienced people can still get pressured into accepting things they know aren’t right.”
He looked back.
“And that’s supposed to help?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because the next diver might recognize himself before he gets in the water.”
Derek said nothing.
Three days later, he agreed to testify.
The hearing was held in a state administrative building.
Not dramatic.
Beige walls.
Water pitchers.
Microphones.
Rows of reporters.
Derek wore a dark suit jacket over his healing arm.
Nadia watched online from Harbor Crest during break.
The investigator asked:
“Mr. Vance, did you believe the dive was safe when you entered the water?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because multiple systems told me it was.”
“Were those systems functioning?”
“No.”
“Did you have warning signs?”
“Yes.”
“What were they?”
“Schedule pressure. Conflicting route information. An operations director pushing completion. A gas technician who appeared uncomfortable.”
“Why did you proceed?”
Derek paused.
Nadia held her breath.
“Because none of those signs individually looked large enough to cancel the dive.”
The room was silent.
“What do you believe now?”
“That safety failures rarely arrive labeled as safety failures.”
He looked toward the committee.
“They arrive as inconvenience. Delay. Cost. A sensor that can make it one more day. A maintenance job that can wait one more month.”
Nadia stared at the screen.
Derek continued.
“I’m responsible for the decision I made with the information I had. Northstar is responsible for the information it gave us.”
No self-exoneration.
No self-destruction.
Responsibility with boundaries.
Nadia smiled.
Keane stood beside her watching.
“He’s learning.”
“So are you.”
Keane glanced at her.
“Dangerous habit.”
The hearing lasted three hours.
By evening, regulators announced an expanded inquiry into Northstar’s regional safety practices.
Victor Lane resigned.
Grant Halpern retained counsel.
Northstar’s board ordered an independent investigation.
Derek returned to Harbor Crest exhausted.
Nadia entered his room.
“How’d it feel?”
“Like being slowly interrogated by furniture.”
“You were good.”
“I hated every second.”
“Still good.”
He looked at her.
“You watched?”
“Some.”
“What part?”
“The part where you admitted you ignored warning signs.”
“Excellent.”
“And the part where you stopped taking responsibility for things other people did.”
He nodded slowly.
“That was harder.”
“I know.”
Before she left, Derek said:
“Nadia.”
She turned.
“Michael.”
“What?”
“The partner Hannah told you about.”
Nadia froze.
“You know?”
“Hannah cannot keep secrets.”
“I didn’t ask her.”
“I know.”
He looked down.
“I haven’t talked about him in years.”
“You don’t have to.”
Derek stared at the healing arm.
“I think I do.”
And for the first time, Derek began describing the accident that had shaped nearly a decade of his life.
Not because somebody forced him.
Because he was finally learning that silence and strength were not the same thing.
May you like
But while Derek confronted his past, Harbor Crest received a new report from Northstar’s own internal investigation—one revealing that somebody had tried to delete the Blackwater safety records hours after the divers surfaced.
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