The OrionX boardroom at 6 AM was a study in barely controlled chaos. Isabel Crowe sat at the head of the polished mahogany table, her fingers steepled as she surveyed the assembled faces with the cold calculation of a predator evaluating wounded prey. Around her, the emergency gathering of board members, department heads, and key personnel created an atmosphere thick with accusation and fear.
Eli entered the room flanked by security, still wearing the same clothes from the previous night's confrontation in the maintenance room. Emory had ultimately made his choice—he'd stepped away from the keyboard without executing his sabotage code, but the damage to trust and stability within OrionX had already been done. Now, twelve hours later, everyone was scrambling to assign blame and protect their positions.
"Dr. Drake," Isabel's voice cut through the morning light filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows, "perhaps you can explain why our chief systems engineer was found in a compromised maintenance facility with an individual who has just confessed to attempting sabotage of our primary mission."
Eli remained standing, aware that every word he spoke would be analyzed, recorded, and potentially used against him. "I discovered evidence of systematic tampering with historical mission data. I believed Mr. Thorne might have information relevant to understanding those irregularities."
"Irregularities." The word dripped from Isabel's lips like acid. "Is that what we're calling attempted destruction of a multi-billion-dollar space mission? Mr. Harlan, please share with the board what you witnessed."
Milo stood, straightening his tie with theatrical precision. "I found Dr. Drake and Mr. Thorne in the systems maintenance room at approximately 2:30 AM. Mr. Thorne had unauthorized access to navigation algorithms and had made substantial modifications to core mission parameters. When confronted, both individuals appeared to be collaborating on these modifications."
A murmur rippled through the room. Eli felt the weight of institutional momentum turning against him, the careful political calculations that governed corporate space exploration suddenly shifting to protect the organization rather than seek truth.
"That's not accurate," Eli said firmly. "I was attempting to prevent Mr. Thorne from completing his modifications. My investigation into historical data had led me to believe—"
"Your investigation." Isabel's interruption was razor-sharp. "Dr. Drake, you are a systems engineer, not a security investigator. Your unauthorized access to classified archives, combined with this incident, suggests a pattern of behavior that puts this entire organization at risk."
Dr. Vale, sitting halfway down the table, cleared her throat. "If I may, the psychological evaluations I've conducted suggest that both Mr. Thorne and Dr. Drake have been under extreme stress. The pressure of the upcoming launch, combined with the publicity demands placed on Dr. Drake, may have created a situation where rational judgment became compromised."
"Compromised judgment." Isabel repeated the phrase as if testing its utility. "Dr. Vale, in your professional opinion, is Dr. Drake fit to continue as chief systems engineer for the Saturn mission?"
The question hung in the air like a guillotine blade. Eli realized that this wasn't really about Emory's sabotage attempt or his own investigation into Meridian. This was about power, control, and the willingness of institutional forces to sacrifice individuals to protect larger interests.
"I believe," Dr. Vale said carefully, "that all personnel involved in this incident would benefit from a cooling-off period and comprehensive psychological evaluation before resuming critical duties."
"I see." Isabel turned her gaze back to Eli. "Dr. Drake, effective immediately, you are suspended from all duties related to the Saturn mission pending a full security review. Mr. Harlan will assume temporary leadership of the systems engineering team."
The room erupted in controlled chaos—hushed conversations, shuffling papers, the sound of careers and relationships recalculating in real time. Eli felt something cold and heavy settle in his stomach as he realized that his pursuit of truth had just cost him everything he'd worked toward for the past five years.
"You're making a mistake," he said, his voice cutting through the noise. "The real threat to this mission isn't Emory Thorne or unauthorized investigations. The real threat is the same force that killed the Meridian crew, and it's still operating within this organization."
Isabel's smile was winter-sharp. "Dr. Drake, you're clearly under considerable stress. I suggest you use your suspension period to rest and reflect on the difference between evidence and paranoia."
As security escorted him from the boardroom, Eli caught Milo's eyes across the table. For just a moment, he saw something there—not triumph, but fear. The fear of someone who knew more than he was saying about disasters past and present.