Chapter 8 Death of John

Chapter 8. Death of John

In his dormitory, Noah sighed and slumped down on the sofa. His eyes burned and he yawned as if he hadn't slept in days. While that wasn't the case, after all he fell asleep at some point every night, he couldn't find peace. He had never found peace since Tiny came aboard. The thought of having a child he never cared for still bothered him. He is a father. He really is the father. There is a person who is his descendant and shares the same blood with him. But he failed as a father, and he wasn't even given a chance to prove himself. Now his daughter hates him, and rightfully so. Also, she doesn't even want to have a good conversation with him, rejecting all of his attempts at conversation, so they'll probably never have much to say. This is really unfair and wrong. But life is rarely fair, so he has no choice but to adapt to the situation. It's just that this is easier said than done. Of course, he understood that if Tiny didn't want to talk to him, he would have to accept it. There was nothing he could do but wish her happiness and all the best, and then let her go her own way. But, can he be happy because of this? he does not know.

He stood up with difficulty and walked into the bathroom. All musings are pointless. He could not foresee and plan everything. Even though he could run through all the possibilities in his head, it would always end up being different. He himself has no control over it and can only react to developments.

In the bathroom, he washed his face with cold water, trying to wash away those distracting thoughts. He must remain calm. He must find his inner balance again, otherwise he will never be at peace. Then, he put his hands on the wall to the left and right of the mirror and stared at himself in the mirror. An old and tired man faced him in the mirror. Dark circles stood out under his eyes. Even his eyes themselves looked gray and tired. The man didn't look as determined and fighting-minded as before. Solving family problems is much more difficult than being responsible for a crew of four hundred people. When dealing with the latter he usually knew what his task was and who his opponent was.

Just as he was about to continue taking off his uniform, the doorbell rang. Someone is standing outside the door, wanting to come in. An unrealistic hope came to Noah's mind that it was Tiny who wanted to reconcile with him. Even though he knew it was almost impossible.

The doorbell rang again, and Noah came out of his thoughts. He walked to the door and opened it. Dr. Celia stood outside the door and looked him over briefly. Wearing only his uniform pants, she looked over his upper body, reaffirming that he was still going strong despite his age. Of course, she already knew this through her regular medical tests. So she was not affected and started talking immediately. "I hope I didn't wake you?" she said, but she was sure she didn't wake the captain. Otherwise, he looks a little different, even if he seems rather tired.

"No." Noah shook his head and asked her to come in.

She entered, but stood behind the door without entering. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I found some information about Tiny's mother that I thought would be of interest to you," she defended her visit.

"Yes, that's right." Noah seemed to wake up immediately. "What is it? Who is her mother?"

"Her mother is Olive," she announced without hesitation.

Noah nodded slowly. "Yes, I expected that," he said quietly. He was about to turn around when he noticed her choice of words.

"You said Olive is her mother?" he asked again.

Celia nodded curtly, but this time she hesitated. "Olive is dead," she said softly.

Even though Olive had been away from him for nearly twenty years, the news still hit him like a hammer. Over the past few days, memories from his past suddenly appeared, and all the feelings and sensations he felt at that time were as real as yesterday. His love for Olive is suddenly rekindled, along with the hope of seeing her again through Tiny. Maybe he could finally explain her disappearance. But in reality, none of that matters. He had a feeling that he wished to see her again, and emotions deep within him that he had not known for a long time were awakened. But Olive has passed away, and these feelings disappeared in a few short sentences, leaving him tortured. He thought he would never experience such contradictory emotional ups and downs again. After all, such conflicting feelings only apply to young people.

Breathing heavily, he walked to the sofa and sat down. Celia followed him worriedly, sitting next to him at some distance. She remained silent, giving him time to accept and process the news.

Finally, Noah turned to her. The inner pain was clearly visible in his eyes. Still, he held himself firmly in check, and with an unusually firm voice, he spoke to Celia, "How do you know that?"

"I made requests to various departments, including Civilization and Starfleet. There are some methods that are not available to us for civilized people. So Tiny can't find any clues," she explained.

Noah nodded slowly. In the end, it doesn't matter who provided the information. The results are immutable. "Do you know when and how she died?" Noah wanted to know more.

"She died nearly two years ago," Celia said as she learned. "The exact date is unclear. She left Earth with a group of colonists at that time. The destination was the Stone System. They wanted to join the newly established colony there. They were a pretty diverse group of people. Especially the support of the anti-technology movement By."

Noah looked at her in surprise. He couldn't believe it. Olive is a supporter of the anti-technology movement? This was unimaginable to him.

On Earth, as some of the great religions of the past retreated, smaller groups emerged into the void. Since the beginning of industrialization, and especially the turn of the millennium, the influence of religion has gradually waned. The reason is not because of a decline in faith, but because of the way religion fights the new world order, clinging to old, outdated ideas. Their preaching to people and reality has deviated so much that they can no longer move people's hearts. World War III and mankind's journey into space made most people realize that mankind is just a small planet in a vast universe. To survive, we can only work together. Different religions hinder this because despite professing tolerance for one another, everyone adheres to their own beliefs. As a result, religious believers have no common ground, and eventually most people realize this and stop practicing religion. This influence is further reinforced by man's journey into space, where he has yet to encounter gods or god-like beings. It is almost as if human belief in a higher being no longer matters. In the past, this belief has provided support and comfort to people as they struggled through the ups and downs of history, but now people have confidence in the potential of human beings themselves, and may one day become more advanced beings. Religions cannot accept this because it would take away the basis of their existence. As a result, religion gradually became an insignificant organization.

Instead, various other movements formed, attracting some people to join. Among them is the anti-technology movement. They promote the loss of human values ​​and identity due to the increasing use of machines and artificial intelligence. In their view, technology has provided too much help to humans and deprived people of their jobs. They advocated a return to nature and manual labor. Only in this way can mankind obtain the salvation it seeks.

This is a small group that established a colony in the Stone System about two years ago. And Olive is obviously heading there.

"Olive's ship remained on course for four weeks after setting sail," Celia continued her report. "Then it suddenly disappeared from the flight monitor screen. There was no distress signal and no sign of anything going wrong. The ship simply disappeared. It would be eight months before Starfleet had the opportunity to send a ship to search. But Nothing was found. No wreckage, no clues. Not in space or on the nearest planet. It is now believed that the ship was completely destroyed in an explosion," Celia said with an apologetic shrug. She was sorry she couldn't bring better news.

Noah sneered and said: "How ironic. If this group really adhered to their principles, they should not have left the earth, because the earth does not have super high technology. In this way, everyone on the ship would still be alive. But, Their predictions proved correct that technology would eventually wipe them out. The ship carried them to their destruction."

The doctor looked at him a little confused. She hadn't thought about it that way. As a doctor, she was just shocked by how many people died. The irony was unnoticeable to her. She just nodded without commenting on it.

"Then she's been dead for two years," Noah concluded. "It makes the situation more complicated." He had wanted to talk to Tiny's mother. Maybe she could explain everything to Tiny, if Tiny would listen to her. Or Tiny could have gone to her. But these thoughts are now outdated. Furthermore, he now has to face his daughter by bringing him bad news. Maybe Tiny would give him a negative review about it. But he had to tell her. She has a right to know the truth.

"Thank you, doctor, for your efforts," he finally said. Now, at least he knew what he was getting into.

"Glad to help," Celia nodded seriously. "That's not the news you want to hear, though."

"It's okay," Noah nodded. "It's not your fault that this happened." He noticed that Celia seemed to feel a little guilty for bringing the bad news. He looked at her with a completely different consciousness. Although she is about twelve years older than Tiny, it is possible that she is treated as a daughter by Noah. Noah had never realized this so clearly before. He was surprised to find that having children of his own changed perspective.

Celia had no idea what he was thinking. She stood up and said goodbye to the captain. She turned again before leaving his room. "If you would like me to talk to Tiny again, please let me know." It was her kind offer to act as a mediator. However, he wasn't sure if Tiny would actually do it.

Noah nodded politely. "I'll tell you," he said, but he was sure to do so only if absolutely necessary.

Then he was left alone in the room. What Celia had just said kept occupying his thoughts. Suddenly, he realized that he wouldn't get any peace tonight either. He was now trying to organize the appropriate words for Tiny in his mind. However, is this really necessary for something like this?”

Glancing at the clock, he found that it was already past eleven o'clock in the evening. Still, he wanted to inform Tiny immediately. He never wanted to drag this out for too long. He was sure Tiny wouldn't understand him anyway.

Noah put his uniform back on and walked towards Tiny's residence. When he rang the doorbell, it took a while for the door to open. He almost left, but eventually the door opened. Tini stood in front of the door, wearing a bathrobe and her hair was a little messy. When she saw him, her face darkened and she looked a little irritated.

"Hey Tiny, I hope I didn't wake you up," Noah began carefully.

"No," she shook her head briefly. Under her bathrobe, she was wearing a nightgown. Apparently she was ready for bed. Or maybe she was already asleep, which she certainly wouldn't admit.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late, but it's important. Otherwise I wouldn't be here," Noah added, emphasizing the urgency.

To his surprise, she stepped aside and let him inside. Maybe she became less angry late at night. Or maybe she's not fully awake yet and hasn't had time to fight back directly. He was ready for a long battle with her, ready to tell her the bad news in the hallway. Now he's in. The lights in the room were dim and the air was filled with a pleasant smell of vanilla. But this room is still standard. No personal belongings were seen. She still lives in one of the guest accommodations. Here, too, she couldn't move the furniture around. She must accept the status quo.

Since Noah didn't know if he could sit down, he stood there until Tiny invited him to sit down. She wrapped her bathrobe tightly around herself to prevent any part of her from being exposed or seen by him. Then she sat as far away as possible to maintain distance.

"What emergency happened?" There was a sharpness in her tone that could not be ignored. She couldn't imagine what was so important for him to come to her so late. She had blocked all previous attempts at conversation. Now she began to wonder why she hadn't done that this time. After all, things haven't changed. There was no point in talking to him now.

"Dr. Celia conducted an investigation on your mother," Noah began slowly, earning a mocking look from Tiny that made him uncomfortable. She also thought he was planning something behind her back. "Celia did find her," Noah added.

Unconsciously, Tini began to pay attention. He did succeed, but she herself failed. Maybe he did find her mother. Her voyage, then, was not in vain.

"However, this is not good news," Noah continued. Tiny had a bad feeling. "Olive was unfortunately killed in a transport spacecraft accident on her way to the Grouper Galaxy," he finally told the news.

Tiny was speechless. She wasn't ready for the news. How could she have died? Although she hadn't seen her mother again in years, and she wasn't sure she expected to see her again, that was a completely different thing than knowing for sure that she would never see her again.

She had to swallow hard several times to keep from crying in front of her hated father. It's not worth it. She didn't want to show her inner pain in front of him. She looked more determined. "What else do you know?" She had to know how it happened.

Noah talks about the anti-technology movement and Olive. Tiny showed no emotion. It all makes perfect sense. Perhaps this movement was also responsible for her growing loss of interest in a life of technology. Perhaps she has ended her pursuit of a technological life and just wants to be alone with nature. These fanatics were then responsible for her death. They fed these ideas to her like poison until she believed the nonsense. These people were responsible, and Tiny's anger was turned against them. She wants revenge, but how can she fight against such an organization alone and against the world's beliefs and order that are deeply ingrained in these people's minds? Her anger flared up instantly. Now if these negative emotions are not relieved, they will gradually take over Tiny.

They all remained silent, silent to each other. Noah felt a strong desire to hold and comfort his daughter. But he knew she would refuse immediately. Therefore, he just moved slightly and put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," his voice was filled with genuine regret, leaving Tiny momentarily confused. She came back from a distant world of thought, looked at him with a look that sent shivers down his spine, and asked him to continue.

"There's something else you should know. If you need anything or want someone to talk to, I'm always here. No matter when, no matter where." He could barely contain himself. Did Olive's death bring down the wall between them?

Tiny's eyes slowly narrowed, her gaze becoming cold. When she answered, her voice was as cold as ice. "Oh? Really? Where were you before? Where were you when we needed you? If you hadn't left, maybe my mother would still be alive. Don't think her death would have changed anything. To me, she He's already dead, so it doesn't make any difference." She went into a fit of rage again, and Noah pulled his hand back in surprise to avoid being pushed away by her. "The only difference is that you have an additional responsibility." Tini added.

Noah sighed in disappointment. The short-lived trust just now disappeared again. Tiny started acting like an avenging angel again, coming to settle a score with him. He tried one last time to calm her down, but to no avail. Finally, he stood up. He had told her all that was necessary. He'd certainly still be willing to be there for her when she needed him, but he wouldn't have to be abused over and over again. So he said a brief goodbye and left her room. It is frustrating to deal with someone with such a stubborn attitude. To him, Tiny seemed completely uninterested in establishing a dialogue between them. For the time being, any additional words are superfluous. The feeling of emptiness and sadness led him back to his room. He was sure that he would not be able to sleep again that night.

Tiny was still staring at the door that had just been closed, unable to look away for a while. Conflicting emotions surged within her. Hatred for his father, sadness for his mother, uncertainty about the future. Everything is confusing. Nothing is clear anymore, everything seems to be changing. But not in the way she expected. Her entire worldview is changing, and she has no plan for it. She is haunted by the surge of fate. And everything seems to be getting worse. Instead of getting better. She wanted to get rid of the walls that protected her, but she felt helpless in the current emotional turmoil. There are so many contradictions. Her father came here specially to tell her about her mother's death. He seemed to genuinely care about her. He made repeated efforts to talk to her. Was he really not as mean as she thought? But why did he leave her there and never contact her? Was her aunt's account false? This is almost impossible. One or two acts of kindness won't cancel out everything else. Her head ached, her mother's sorrow overwhelming her. Eventually, she fell into a restless sleep.

John sat on the bed, staring sadly at the wall. He was still alone in the room as Kelly still lay in the medical station. He took the opportunity to bring out the smuggled goods he had brought back from his last land vacation. This is an alcoholic concentrate that can be added to drinks. This way he could get around the ship's alcohol ban. And he's taken full advantage of it. It had been four hours since he got off work and he had had one drink after another. Each time he increased the dose of alcohol and now he was drinking until his head was spinning. In the room, the tight and stuffy air made him even more dizzy.

However, all the alcohol didn't quiet his thoughts. He is still tormented by loneliness and despair. It was almost physical pain. He had screamed out his pain, but the soundproof walls did not carry his cries. So his cry went unheard. He cried out of despair, but no one could dry his tears. He remains alone. The only person who listened to him was the computer. But it was just a computer, and it would answer his questions with science and cool reason. There used to be a certain appeal to interacting with artificial intelligence. He has tried to confuse the computer, allowing it to generate its own contradictions using logical arguments. But this never worked. The game lost its appeal as the computer's answers were the same again and again. After all, it is just a machine. Although it is artificial intelligence, it is only programmed. It is not a real intelligence and therefore not a real conversation partner. Just questions and answers. But for him, these answers weren't enough. Now the only thing he has left is alcohol. But now even it couldn't help him.

He turned his head slowly, otherwise everything around him would spin. He looked at a laser gun sitting on the small table next to the bed. This is one of the benefits of joining Starfleet, it is easier to obtain weapons than ordinary citizens. Laser guns glowed in the fading light. It seemed to be signaling to him that he should end it all. End this before things get worse. To end it all with a modicum of dignity, if he had any left.

However, John closed his eyes. Apparently, he lacked the courage to do that. Just like before. He had secretly pulled the laser gun out of the arsenal several times, only to come back the next day with a heartbeat, each time terrified of being asked what he planned to do. But he was never caught. It will be the same this time. Why can't he do it? His life is a pain, but he seems to be clinging to it. The question plagued his drunken brain. Does he have anything worth clinging to?

His job?

Maybe. At least he enjoyed it. Most of the time it is. At least I don't hate it.

His friend?

This is almost impossible because he has no friends. His classmates always made fun of him and he never wanted to see them again. At Starfleet Academy, he never made friends. Just like on this ship. Although he has been here for a year.

Or is he obsessed with Tiny? Because then even the slightest hope of a life with her would be gone? But is there hope? Although people often talk about hoping for the dawn of victory, this definitely does not apply to him. He never stood a chance with her, and he knew it deep down. She doesn't even recognize him. In this case, what hope is there? So why didn't he take his own life? That way she would at least know that a man named John once existed.

John sighed and stood up. He could hardly stand up straight. He swayed slowly, like standing on a boat facing strong waves. He took a laborious step and touched the cup on the table. The cup fell to the carpet with a dull sound and shattered. But he barely noticed it. He walked across the room slowly, step by step, and finally stood in front of the mirror. With cloudy eyes, everything spinning before him, he stared at the pathetic image in the mirror. Black messy hair, shoulders hanging limply. His uniform, which had not been taken off at the end of the job, was now twisted and stained. The empty eyes in the mirror stared at him indifferently.

"Who do you see in the mirror?" he asked his reflection, heavily slurred.

"A loser. A loser. A nobody. You have no friends. No one likes you. You're just in the way everywhere and everyone is happy you're not there. No one will ever ask you if you want to be a part of it.

And you're a damn coward. You are afraid of changing the way you have lived your life till now. You are too used to your current situation. You are a good-for-nothing loser. A poor bastard who is useless at anything. A poor guy who is so cowardly that he can't even run away from life. You are useless. Worse than being useless. God has wasted his efforts on you. Go to hell and stop annoying people. "

John looked in the mirror and fell silent. He didn't know if he had spoken these words himself or if his reflection had spoken them. But he realized that it was absolutely true. Damn the truth. Now he could no longer defend himself.

I should do this, he thought to himself, staggering back to the bed and reaching for the beam pistol on the table.

But committing suicide seems really cowardly. A heroic death would have been better. But how to achieve it? There's no way he could suddenly find a Klingon, fight him to defend the ship, and then be honorably killed. And in that case, no one would notice his problem. But they should all notice, everyone should know how lonely he was, how they had left him behind. They should know how desperate he had been. And no one cared about him. They should all blame themselves for not helping him. At least for once, they should think of him. Think of him. This was the price they paid for not helping him. This way, at least after his death he will remain a topic of discussion. Even in life he never was.

John slowly opened his eyes, a tear sliding down his cheek. Damn it, why me? he asked himself over and over again. But no one answered him. The whole room had been so silent.

He reached for the beam pistol with a trembling hand. But just before the touch, he hesitated. His hand shook for a few seconds, then he quickly grabbed the pistol. The cold metal grip made him sober up a little and get out of his self-pity. But it was only a little more sober. Carefully, almost as if in slow motion, he pointed the pistol at his forehead. He had done this many times, but each time he gave up at the last moment and wailed into a restless sleep.

"Don't do this!" his inner voice screamed. Do not do this. Life is too precious.

And his own thoughts argued back. Do it quickly, you coward. What are you waiting for? Your life will never change.

The tremor in John's hands increased. His index finger was on the trigger, ready to press.

However, John finally put down his laser gun. Just like every time. There was a cry inside. You coward. Your life will never change. No one will pay attention to you. You will never find friends. You will always be excluded from this environment. Because you are a loser.

John sat there slumped, staring at the wall in a daze. Loser, the word echoed in his mind. Loser, loser, loser...

His life was destined not to change. So why not end it? His eyes moved to the weapon in his hand. I'll leave you, he thought. Then he quickly pointed the laser gun at his head and pressed the trigger.

A nearly invisible blast of energy shot through his brain. In an instant, energy waves flooded his neural pathways, finally quieting his thoughts. His head was knocked back with the impact of the laser gun's recoil. A little blood trickled down from the wound on his temple and down his neck. The glimmer in his eyes went out with a slight delay. His slack hand was knocked back and his body fell lifelessly to the side. He was lying on the bed, still holding the laser gun in his hand, but now his hand was slowly loosening his grip, and the laser gun fell dullly to the floor.

Daisy hurried across the cabin. In a few minutes, they will land on the shuttle on the planet. However, as usual, there was so much to do in the final minutes. Although they had planned well so that everything could be completed in time this time, the schedule was completely messed up. Now they just need to speed up.

Today, they are setting up a base camp for researchers. Engineers in the engine room built it. While it's not always easy for them, it can be done. However, in order to build a shelter, a lot of materials are needed. Because some researchers spend days or even weeks on the planet. This would require more than a few tents. They had been delivering materials to the planet for two hours straight. To do this, the material must first be removed from the cargo bay and then moved to the transfer bay. It's a sweaty job. Daisy must remember to resubmit that proposal and propose a separate cargo ship for the cargo bay. This will save a lot of working time.

However, there are some parts that cannot be transferred. They are too fragile and delicate to be broken down into individual atoms. These parts must be brought to the planet's surface by shuttle. The team would then spend the entire day setting them all up.

"Pike, Peggy, John," she called to the engineers. "Pack your things and hurry to the hangar." Of course, the shuttle would be waiting for them all, but she definitely didn't want to mess up the schedule any more.

"Yes, ma'am," two voices responded.

Daisy stopped what she was doing. She noticed immediately that John's voice was missing. "Mr. John?" she called through the cabin, but got no answer.

"Has anyone seen John?" she asked across the room in annoyance. Where did this guy go? She thinks this man is always in trouble. He was always unpunctual and lacked discipline. And every conversation seemed to have no effect on him, even though he always acted like a wounded stray dog ​​during the conversations. Sighing, she turned to her console again. She tried several times to contact his dormitory, but no one answered. She didn't want to make a ship-wide radio call, which would not be good for crew cohesion because everyone would know that John had once again failed to show up for work on time. Much has been said about him behind closed doors. She didn't want to make things worse.

She called the safety director over the ship's intercom system. "Mr. Ted, please find Mr. John and bring him to the cabin."

"He didn't come to work on time?" Ted guessed, more like a conclusion than a question. This wasn't the first time Daisy had asked him to find John. This person was getting on her nerves more and more. Although she was good at dealing with people, she was at her wits end with this guy. He was too closed off and didn't seem to want to open up at all. She could only hope that this was some late-puberty symptom that would go away soon.

"Yes, he didn't come," Daisy confirmed simply and immediately disconnected the call. She didn't have time to be angry with John now. Ted will take care of it. Now she must quickly find John's replacement. Why does this always happen when there is not enough time?

Just as she looked up, an engineer walked into the cabin. Daisy stopped her without hesitation. "Pick up the toolbox Mr. John has prepared and follow," she ordered the surprised woman. The female engineer nodded in complete astonishment, hurriedly picked up the tool box, and followed Daisy hurriedly through the corridor to the hangar deck. Daisy told her briefly what to do. She didn't really need to say much. All cabin staff have been informed about the establishment of the base camp, not just those directly involved. It is important to Daisy that everyone is on the same level of knowledge. This avoids tensions within the team and better covers unexpected absences. Like now.

The shuttle is ready and everything is properly placed according to Daisy's instructions. All the crew members have boarded the spacecraft, and Ingmar is sitting on the bridge, just waiting for Daisy to get on board. She quickly stepped onto the ship and closed the door. Then he nodded to Ingemar, indicating that he was ready.

"Let's go," Ingmar muttered. He asked the bridge for permission to take off, and seconds later the hangar deck doors opened. The small spaceship gently lifted off and drifted into outer space.

Security Director Ted sat on the bridge, operating his console attentively. When Daisy disconnected the call, he closed his eyes and sighed. This was the third time I had gone to see John since setting sail. What is this young man thinking? Obviously, this is not a good thing for his own image. And he must have realized that his behavior was annoying everyone. This guy is benefiting himself at the expense of everyone else. When he didn't show up for work, someone else had to do his job. It's not fair to other people. Does he think he is special? Or is he just not grown up yet? After all, he acts like a little kid.

This behavior was incomprehensible to him, so he shook his head slowly. Then he would have to go find him. Whether he understands it or not. It's also not difficult to find someone on board. Just let the computer search according to the corresponding person's DNA pattern. Internal ship sensors then scan the ship for every sign of life and compare the DNA to the stored data. That's it. No big challenge, it only takes a few minutes.

Ted, the security chief, typed John's name into the computer and waited. At the same time, he was considering who to send to find John. Daisy wished John was in the cabin, even if she wasn't there at the moment. Ted will send a security officer to keep an eye on John so he cannot leave the cabin before Daisy returns.

The computer finally gave the result, although not the expected one. "John is not on the Republic." The computer voice came clearly.

Ted's eyes widened in surprise. Where could John be? He found it unlikely that he was on a shuttle to a planet. The boat was too small to sneak in quietly.

Commander Gabriel Caro, who was in charge of the command, noticed the message from the computer. She stood up from the commander's chair and walked over to Ted. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Ted replied, confused. "According to the computer, Mr. John was not on the ship. But this is impossible. He was not on the shuttle, and according to the teleporter, no one left the ship."

"Then where is he? How did he leave the ship?" Carol asked calmly and calmly, without showing any surprise. This allowed Ted to regain his composure. He immediately passed the question to the computer. The answer is simply "unknown".

"Apparently, he found a way," Carol said flatly. "Either the sensors are unreliable, or he has other methods. He must be somewhere." She thought for a moment, then made a decision. "Go find him, Mr. Ted. Check where he lives. Maybe you can find him there."

"Yes, Commander," Ted nodded and stood up. As long as he is still a security supervisor, no one will miss on the boat. He left the bridge and passed through the corridor on the deck, where there were some of the crew members of the crew. At the intersection of a cross, two security officials he had requested to join him.

They stopped in front of John's residence. Entering and searching for a place to invade someone's private space. Ted is not very happy about it. Although he knew that this was necessary and it was necessary to do it as a security supervisor, he was still not willing to do so. A person's private space is so intimate, and strangers should not break in without invitation.

As a security official, he relieved his lock with his authority. The door opened automatically, and Ted's face showed a disgusting expression. He smelled an unpleasant sultry and moldy smell. "Damn," he couldn't help cursing. "What's wrong with life maintenance system?"

He walked in slowly. The lights in the room were turned off, and it was dark. Without windows, it cannot be through the dim star light. Therefore, he couldn't see anything at first.

"The brightness is to the largest," he ordered. The computer immediately raised the lights, and the situation in the room was unobstructed. Some bottles and glass are scattered on the floor by the bed. The clothes are piled on the nearby tables and chairs. Some data boards are revealed from it. The whole room was chaotic. It looks dirty, and it seems that no one has been cleaned for several days. John lay on the bed and stared at him with empty eyes.

Ted does not need to take a closer look to know the situation. As a security official, he has seen many deceased and is familiar with this look. He quickly walked to the screen of the room and activated it. "Medical emergencies in John's room." This was enough to move the medical team.

Then he turned to John's body again. He slowly walked beside the deceased, and carefully touched his neck with his fingers. But he didn't feel the pulse. The situation is clear. He knew what happened and did not need to wait for the confirmation of the medical team. As a result, he connected with the bridge.

Commander Carlo appeared on a small screen. "Did you find him?" She asked immediately.

Ted's face remained serious. "Yes, we found him," he said slowly. "You'd better come over with the captain." When she asked him, he continued. "Mr. John died."

Carlo was silent for a few seconds, and she obviously needed some time to understand the importance of his words. Her eyes opened slowly, and then nodded briefly. "Well, we are here."

She interrupted the call without saying anything. Ted closed his eyes and leaned quietly on the wall. He needs a moment of quiet time to clean up his thoughts. After a few minutes, it will become busy here. Then, in the next few days, there will be a strange depression atmosphere on the boat. Losing the crew is the same thing, whether it is accident or fighting. But when someone ends his life voluntarily, it is another matter, and the situation is completely different. Both are not beautiful and difficult to understand. But in the case of suicide, there are too many questions about "why" cannot be answered, and no one can answer it completely and correctly.

The security officers stood in front of the door and still looked curious about inside. Ted instructed them to stay outside the door and told all the people who passed by. No one can come in at present, this is still a crime scene. Although the situation seems very clear, the forensic team still needs to investigate further. The room must be maintained as much as possible to investigate.

A few seconds later, Dr. Silia arrived. She hurried to John and ignored Ted. She knelt next to him and was busy operating her medical analysis instrument. But no matter how she adjusts, the result is always the same. In the end, she raised her head. Carol and Noah have also entered the room. They looked heavy, watching John and Silia silently.

Silia glanced at Ted and sighed. "You are right, he is dead."

"What is the cause of death?" Noah tried to maintain a professional tone, although it was difficult. They must conduct objective investigations.

"His head was directly hit by the phase gun of the largest anesthesia state, and the nerve channel was destroyed in his brain. It was impossible to survive," the doctor shook his head slowly. She was still shocked, and she really realized what happened.

"Is it possible for others to do it?" Noah hoped to avoid excessively impatient conclusions, which may cover the truth. Part of his heart is unwilling to believe that someone will voluntarily end his life. But if it is a murder, the situation will not be good, because the murderer can still move freely on the ship.

"Of course, this can never be completely eliminated," Silia hesitated. "But his posture explained the problem."

"And the weapon is still here." Ted added and pointed at the phase gun on the floor in front of the bed. He will check his fingerprint later.

Noah nodded seriously. He looked at Carlo because she hadn't spoken so far. She looked shocked, her face was pale, but she tried her best to cover up.

"I want to know what happened here," Noah finally said. "And why." This kind of thing cannot happen again. "Keep me the latest situation."

Silia and Ted nodded. After looking at the last glance, Noah and Carlo left the room again. They must now consider how to explain all this to the crew without destroying morale.