Chapter 1 - The Technical Supervisor
The uniformed employee led me through the narrow gangway between the cars.
The metallic vibration hummed louder here, rattling the floorboards beneath my steel-toed boots.
I stepped into the forward vestibule and found a man in a high-visibility vest waiting for me.
His name tag read Marcus, and his face was completely drained of color.
Behind me, the heavy glass door slid open again.
Ethan stepped into the small space, his expensive charcoal suit looking completely out of place in the mechanical vestibule.
Sloane hovered nervously behind his shoulder.
One of the investors Ethan had been trying to impress stood a few feet back, watching us with cold, analytical eyes.
Ethan grabbed my arm before I could speak to the supervisor.
"Whatever this is, Natalie, fix it quietly and get back to your seat," Ethan hissed.
I looked at his hand on my jacket, then up at his face.
"You don't own this train, Ethan."
Marcus interrupted us, wiping sweat from his forehead with a grease-stained rag.
"Are you the reliability engineer who reported the auxiliary vibration?" Marcus asked.
I nodded and pulled my company identification badge from my pocket.
"Natalie Mercer, lead diagnostic engineer for Northeast Rail Solutions."
Marcus let out a long breath of relief.
"Thank God, because my diagnostic panel is throwing error codes I have never seen in twenty years on the job."
He popped open a steel access panel on the wall, revealing a complex digital interface.
I stepped past Ethan to look at the screen.
The primary braking temperature gauge was flashing red.
The numbers were climbing at an impossible rate.
"The thermal overload is localized in the rear auxiliary system," I said, tracing the schematic on the screen.
Ethan crossed his arms, leaning against the metal wall.
"This is ridiculous," Ethan said.
"Tell the conductor to reboot the system so we can get to Washington on time."
Marcus glared at my husband.
"You can't reboot a melting brake line, sir."
I typed a bypass command into the terminal, trying to access the raw telemetry data.
The screen flickered, and a detailed diagnostic readout flooded the display.
I felt my stomach drop into my boots.
The vibration wasn't a mechanical failure caused by wear and tear.
The pressure valves were closing themselves one by one in a synchronized sequence.
"Marcus," I whispered, my eyes locked on the rapidly dropping pressure levels.
"What is it?" he asked.
I turned to look at the supervisor.
"This isn't a malfunction."
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I pointed to a line of code overriding the automated safety protocols.
"Someone has intentionally locked out the primary cooling system."
