Captain Ryan Blake shoved me toward the edge of the flight deck and whispered, “One more question, and you’re going over.”

Captain Ryan Blake shoved me toward the edge of the flight deck and whispered, “One more question, and you’re going over.” He thought I was afraid. He was wrong. What he didn't know was that the small black drive inside my boot contained photographs that could destroy his entire command. Three minutes later, I was standing at the edge of the USS Resolute with nearly four hundred sailors watching. Ryan pointed toward the pier. “Get off my ship.” I looked him straight in the eyes. “Gladly.” Then a voice came from behind him. “Captain, step away from her.” Everyone turned. Admiral Thomas Reed stood at the entrance to the flight deck. And he wasn't alone. Two NCIS agents followed him. Ryan's face changed instantly. “Admiral?” Reed walked toward us. “Where is Petty Officer Megan Carter?” Ryan swallowed. “She was removed from duty.” “By whose order?” Silence. Reed looked at me. “Petty Officer?” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded medical report. “By his order, sir.” Ryan stepped forward. “That woman has been causing problems for weeks.” I stared at him. “Problems?” I pointed toward the medical tent. “Six sailors collapsed from heat exposure.” Then toward the cargo deck. “Four emergency oxygen tanks disappeared.” Finally, I looked directly at him. “And two men were transferred off this ship without their families ever being notified.” The deck went silent. Ryan's jaw tightened. “You have no idea what you're talking about.” “I know exactly what I'm talking about.” Three days earlier, I had been assigned to the Resolute as a logistics specialist. My job was simple: verify emergency supplies. But the numbers didn't make sense. Oxygen cylinders were disappearing. Medical supplies were being signed out after midnight. And every missing item was connected to the same storage compartment. **CARGO BAY 7.** When I asked Chief Mason about it, he grabbed my arm. “Stop digging.” “Why?” He looked around before whispering, “Because people who ask about Bay 7 stop getting assignments.” The next morning, Mason was gone. His bunk was empty. His records had been erased from the ship's system. That's when I contacted NCIS. Agent Rachel Torres gave me a tiny encrypted drive. “Copy everything,” she said. “What am I looking for?” “Anything that proves the medical emergencies aren't accidents.” I found it that night. A spreadsheet. Twenty-three names. Twenty-three sailors who had suffered unexplained medical incidents over six months. Next to each name was a code. **B7.** I photographed everything. Then someone entered my cabin. I hid under the bunk. I heard Ryan Blake's voice. “Find the drive.” Another man answered. “She doesn't have it.” Ryan slammed something against the wall. “Then search again.” I waited until they left. The next morning, I hid the drive inside my boot. That afternoon, Ryan confronted me. “You've been asking too many questions.” I smiled. “Then answer them.” He stepped closer. “You don't understand who you're dealing with.” “I understand perfectly.” He grabbed my uniform. “Last warning.” I pulled away. “Then give me one reason not to report you.” His face hardened. “Because nobody will believe you.” He ordered me onto the flight deck. Hundreds of sailors watched as he publicly accused me of insubordination. Then he shoved me toward the edge. “Leave.” I took one step back. “Captain.” He smiled. “What?” I pointed behind him. “Look.” The admiral was standing there. And beside him were four NCIS agents. Ryan slowly turned. Admiral Reed held up a sealed folder. “Captain Blake, do you know why I came aboard personally?” Ryan said nothing. Reed opened the folder. “Because your name appears beside every one of those twenty-three medical incidents.” The crowd erupted in whispers. Ryan's face drained of color. But then Reed looked at me. “There is something else.” He handed me a photograph. It showed Cargo Bay 7. Behind a stack of oxygen tanks stood Chief Mason. Alive. And beside him was the man I least expected to see. My own commanding officer. I stared at the photograph. “Sir… when was this taken?” “Last night.” My blood went cold. “That's impossible.” Reed lowered his voice. “That's what I thought.” Then my radio crackled. A man's voice whispered through the static. “Megan…” I froze. It was Mason. “Don't trust the admiral.” The transmission cut. Everyone looked at Reed. He slowly turned toward the sealed cargo doors. Then he said four words that made my stomach drop. “Open Cargo Bay Seven.” The doors began to rise. And from inside the darkness came the sound of someone pounding from within. Three times. Then a voice screamed: “HELP US!”