Chapter 3 - The Secret in the Chart
By midnight, the hospital had grown quiet. The relentless hum of the ventilation system and the distant, rhythmic paging of doctors over the intercom were the only sounds left in the corridors.
Nora sat in the recovery bay beside Admiral Vance’s bed. He was still sleeping off the heavy anesthesia, his shoulder securely bandaged and elevated, an IV slowly dripping fluids and antibiotics into his arm.
Nora pulled up his digital medical chart on her tablet. As a trauma nurse, she had basic clearance, but because of his VIP status, certain sections were encrypted. However, as she scrolled through his intake history from the base clinic, something caught her eye.
The "accident" that had caused his shoulder wound was listed as a "mechanical malfunction during a live-fire training exercise." But the entry had been modified three times in the span of four hours.
The first entry, written by a navy medic on the scene, mentioned a "ruptured pressurized valve."
The second entry changed it to an "unauthorized weapon discharge."
The third entry, signed off by a civilian contractor representing the base’s logistics firm, simplified it to "user error."
Nora frowned. Three different explanations for a single injury, all processed within hours of a two-star admiral being flown to a civilian-accessible military hospital.
"Curiosity killed the cat, Vance."
Nora jumped, nearly dropping the tablet.
Britt Holloway was standing behind her, holding a cup of lukewarm cafeteria coffee. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes shadowed in the dim blue light of the recovery monitors.
"I was just reviewing his post-op vitals, Britt," Nora said, keeping her voice level.
"He's a VIP, Nora. That means you don't look too closely at the details," Britt said, stepping into the bay. She leaned over the bed, pretending to check the IV drip rate. "People like Admiral Vance have a lot of enemies. Sometimes, 'accidents' are just the price of doing business. If you're as smart as you think you are, you'll do your job, hand him his meds, and keep your mouth shut."
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"Are you telling me his injury wasn't an accident?" Nora asked, her heart rate accelerating.
Britt smiled—a cold, empty curve of her lips. "I'm telling you that in this hospital, some doors are meant to stay closed. And I'd hate to see a promising rookie get locked on the wrong side of one."
