The Ghost in the Cylinders

The silence at Bench Three was complete.

Croft immediately stepped back half a pace, his eyes fixed firmly on a timber knot in the floor. Patrick reached for an oily rag and began scrubbing a bolt that was already spotless.

Benjamin stood frozen, his face burning hot. "I destroyed what?"

"The evidence," Mercer repeated.

He picked up the piston by its skirt, holding it up under the gas chandelier.

"This is not a new casting fresh from the stores," Mercer said. "Training Engine 03 ran eight hundred kilometers on the Belfast testing track before it was shipped to Helmarte. Those rings were installed at the factory with their gaps staggered at one hundred and twenty degrees, exactly as the assembly manual commands."

Benjamin frowned, gesturing at the metal. "Then why were the gaps together?"

"Because piston rings rotate in their grooves while the engine is running," Mercer said flatly.

Benjamin stared at him. "They move?"