Chapter 80. Meeting with Colonial Captains
Postyn ran excitedly up the Senate stairs. This was the second time this week, he found to his dismay. And as he became increasingly sweaty and breathless, it felt as if the stairs were mocking him. It seems like there are more steps every time. Just to tease him. To clearly show him that he is under exercised and fat.
Finally, he reached the upper floor and stopped breathing. He needed time to catch his breath. Then he turned around and extended his middle finger toward the steps. He wasn't going to let the steps laugh at him. Hurrying through the corridor, he finally knocked forcefully on the door at the end of the corridor.
A loud "Come in" made him enter. "I have news for you, Mr. Olet," he panted, holding out his arms.
Olet frowned, looking at him through his narrow reading glasses. "Hopefully you won't be a messenger, always walking in with all kinds of news. Until last week, all the news wasn't given to me until I was done."
"Yes, sir, but this is really important." Postin still held out his arm, hoping that Olet would take the message so he could sit down and catch his breath.
"Have you read it again?"
"Yes, Mr. Olert. You should read it as soon as possible."
He sighed, took the paper from the boy, unfolded it and read it. His eyes flicked rapidly over the papers, while Postyn sat in an empty chair that creaked.
"This is unbelievable," Olert shouted, causing Postin to sit upright immediately.
"I'm sorry, but the chair must be fine. I..."
"What are you talking about?" Olet interrupted confused. "I'm referring to that message. Come on, have Commander Tchaikovsky come to see me immediately."
Postin rolled his eyes and nodded. Why is everything always so urgent? If I could just give myself a few more minutes, the world would certainly not collapse. Then he hurriedly left the room.
Olet walked to the window and looked out thoughtfully. The initial brief excitement was quickly hit by reality. Now, it's important to stay calm and investigate the situation. The possibility of contact with aliens is too small. Maybe someone just walked in there by accident. The more he thought about it, the more logical it seemed. Nonetheless, this is the first time ever such news has been received.
After a strong knock on the door, a middle-aged man walked in. His curly hair is immediately noticeable, as is his muscular build, hidden beneath a black leather jacket. He greeted Olet with a firm handshake and sat down in the chair provided.
"You asked me to come," he said.
"Yes, that's right, Mr. Tchaikovsky." Olet seemed to be looking for the right words to emphasize the urgency without seeming too important. "There is a report of a contact incident. Now we need you to conduct a reconnaissance mission. You must fly into the restricted area that we monitor and see who is operating there. There are people out there."
Tchaikovsky was taken aback. He didn't expect this to happen. "How long have we been monitoring this area? Twenty-five years, right? So far, no one has been there. Do you know anything about our visitors?"
"No. The detector is simply programmed to register a contact and then send out a report. I can't tell you what or who is waiting there. That's what you're going to find out. If there's an unwelcome visitor, I think so, then you get rid of him. That's your job."
Tchaikovsky just nodded. The commands were all too familiar to him. After all, as captain of the reconnaissance fleet, he was always on call for these missions, even though he had thought they would never come.
"When can you leave? We need to find out as soon as possible." Olet emphasized the importance.
"Actually, we're ready. Let me do the final preparations and then we can go in two hours."
Olet looked relieved. Obviously, he didn't expect things to go so quickly. With their tense relationship with Earth, he wonders how much time they have left to figure out what's going on there. After all, this is fulfilling a promise and getting them something in return for a long time. So, despite other issues, he insisted on doing it. "Good," he said simply, standing up.
Olet glanced at the door that had just been closed, wondering why something happened at this time. They should have been focusing on the tensions with Earth, but they have yet to receive a response to the rejection of the document, even though it has been two days. This strange silence made him nervous. He definitely didn't expect there wouldn't be a response. He worried that the silence wasn't a good sign.
But there was little he could do now. The problem is still there, the market problem is still there. Especially the entrance to the market has become narrow due to new construction. There was only a week until the first traders arrived, and by then he had to have a solution. So he went to work again, hoping to find a solution soon. He stood hunched over his desk, studying the latest settlement plans intently. But the lines began to blur before his eyes as he concentrated on every possible approach.
Suddenly, a slight knock on the door made him look up. The knock on the door felt strange. Who is disturbing him now?
When the man who was waiting came in, he invited him in. The door opened slowly, revealing Bostin's round cheeks, looking inside cautiously. "Mr. Olet, I'm sorry to bother you again, but I have more news."
Olet glared at him angrily. On the one hand, it was because of Bostin, who may have been too concerned and did not dare to submit information to his boss and mentor more frequently. On the other hand, it's because another emergency happened this time. This week has certainly been unusual. "Okay," he motioned for his assistant to come closer, "give me the news."
Postin quickly handed over the document and stood looking at it curiously, for this time he had not read the document beforehand.
Olet held the document and looked down again. Then he raised his head again, his eyes seemed to be looking into the distance.
"What's wrong? What's written in it?" Postin asked, not being able to read the message in advance this time, which was a very bad sign for him. If his boss and mentor are overwhelmed, it's too late.
In fact, Olert wasn't sure what to make of the document. This message comes from the Earth Government in response to their briefing. The document said they would review the incident. To this end, the Earth Government will send a special envoy to the colony in two days to learn about the situation directly. The Earth government will then decide how to proceed with the issue.
This is probably good news so that it can be fairly assessed and hopefully the market can continue to exist. Or maybe it was just a delaying tactic until Earth's military was ready to attack, while the colonies still lulled themselves into a sense of security. He has low expectations for the current government, which has repeatedly demonstrated its ruthlessness against dissent over the past few months.
"We must inform the Senate," Olert finally said to himself, "and in two days we will see where we stand."
Noah didn't have to wait two more days to make his decision, fate made the choice for him. As he walked toward the bridge, an alarm suddenly sounded. Almost immediately he picked up the pace and rushed to the turbolift that led to the bridge.
"Captain, a strange ship has appeared in this area and is heading directly towards us," Ingmar reported to him immediately as soon as he entered the bridge.
"Any indication of who it is?" Noah sat down on the command chair, then turned to Jeffrey.
"The shape indicates that it is a light fighter, made on Earth. But since we are not familiar with the structure of ships in this universe, this speculation is not certain."
“I believe things tend to repeat themselves,” Noah said. "If it were humans, they might have found us. I would have thought they would be content to get rid of us."
"Are we leaving?" Ingmar asked.
"No," Noah decided. "Such a small ship should not pose a threat to us. I want to wait and see what happens. But, Mr. Murakami Io, you have to be ready. If they try to escape, disable their thrusters."
"Yes, sir," the security officer nodded, his antennae slightly bent forward.
They waited in silence for the next few minutes. The strange ship continued to approach. Whether it's their intentions or they haven't discovered the Republic yet, it won't be long before the strange ships respond.
"Captain, they're calling us," Ingemar finally relieved everyone's nerves.
"I'm curious what they have to say to us. Put them on the screen," Noah ordered.
The bridge of the strange ship appeared on the screen. Just like the ship, the bridge is relatively small. In the center sat a human captain. He has curly hair on his head. His eyes were narrowed into thin slits, but the small wrinkles surrounding his eyes showed that he usually smiled a lot. There was no trace of military design in his clothing. From what could be seen, he was wearing a black leather jacket without any badges, which immediately reminded Noah of his encounter with the pirate Raze. Two other people on the bridge sat close to him, so they also appeared on the screen. They are humans too.
"I'm Tchaikovsky," he introduced himself. "Who are you? What are you looking for here?"
Noah also introduced himself a little surprised. He had expected his pursuers to know what they were after. But apparently that's not the case. "We're checking some research data here," he continued.
"There's nothing here to study," Tchaikovsky replied unhappily. "Where are you from? I didn't know there was a federal galaxy." This universe seemed to have such an unfriendly tone, and Noah gradually began to feel a little irritable.
"We come from far away," Noah dodged the question.
"Leave this system. We don't need Earth's military scouts. There's nothing here, just some rocks."
This person clearly really has no idea who they are. He thinks they are humans in this timeline. How could he think of anything else? After all, meeting humans from another universe is indeed difficult to imagine.
"Wait," Noah shouted before Tchaikovsky ended the call. "We are here to study the remains of Vulcan." He mentioned the name of the planet, providing Tchaikovsky with some clues, and waited for his reaction. Tchaikovsky reacted quickly to the name of the planet.
"How do you know the name of this planet?" he asked distrustfully. "No one knows the name. The planet was destroyed more than two thousand years ago. Even its name disappeared with it."
Noah noticed that the person wasn't surprised that they knew the name, but rather that they were surprised by the name itself. There is only one conclusion. "Do you know the name of this planet? How do you know it?"
"That has nothing to do with the question," he replied stiffly. "What do you know about this planet?"
The captain nodded, and Jeffrey stood up and walked to his side. As a result, he became the focus of the transmission camera and appeared in front of the people on the other side's ship. "Because my science officer told me so."
Tchaikovsky's eyes widened in shock. "There are Vulcans on your ship? How is that possible?" The discovery left him completely bewildered.
"Do you know this race? You just said that Vulcan was destroyed two thousand years ago. So you can't know anything about them," Jeffrey argued logically. "When Vulcan was destroyed, humanity was still in the ancient times."
"Vulcan was destroyed a long time ago. So the question is, where did you come from?" Suspicion had turned to genuine curiosity.
"You might lie to me again," Noah found out.
"No one knows what Vulcan looked like. The destruction of the planet erased all traces and evidence."
"Then it's impossible for you to know what a Vulcan looks like." Noah was confused. He felt that Tchaikovsky was contradicting himself, that this man was playing some trick, and he wanted to know why.
"We know what they look like because we have Vulcans in our organization."
Now it was Noah who opened his eyes in shock. Even Jeffrey raised his right eyebrow. Apparently, this statement also surprised him. If what this man said was true, then the situation was more complicated than they had previously anticipated.
"Captain Noah, I think we should talk directly." Tchaikovsky suggested. "We have a lot to discuss. You're going to have a lot of questions, and so am I. I don't know where you're from or who you are. But I'm willing to risk it and come to your ship so we can talk."
"Why do you have so much trust in us?" Noah couldn't help but say.
"That's right. But if you have Vulcans on board, that changes everything."
Noah nodded. "Okay. We'll teleport you to our ship..."
"Teleport?" Tchaikovsky shook his head vigorously. "No way. This technology is too new and I'm not willing to test it myself. We'll use the ship, and I'll come over to you."
"Mr. Ingmar, give instructions to the fighter pilot. Move to port and prepare to open the docking bay," Noah ordered. "We will wait for you, Mr. Tchaikovsky."
"I'll come unarmed. So you can leave the team in the stables."
"Thank you for the reminder. But I will still have the horse team ready to go," Noah replied dryly.
"As you wish," Tchaikovsky shrugged and cut off the communication.
Noah frowned at his science officer. "Can you explain what's going on?"
"No. But I don't need an explanation either. Mr. Tchaikovsky will take care of it all."
Noah is less optimistic. "I'm not sure yet." Then he turned to the Andorran. "Mr. Io Murakami, put a security team to stand guard at the docking hatch. As long as that strange ship is there, I want this entrance to be protected. In case there are other uninvited people breaking in."
At the same time, the small fighter jet was parallel to the Republic spacecraft, approaching the lower hemisphere section. It levitated slowly beside the ship. Compared to the Republic, this fighter appears very small and isolated. In a matter of seconds, this fighter can be parked on the shuttle deck of the Republic. But docking is only a few meters away, something no one has done in many years. At least in the Republic timeline. And in this fighter's timeline, this might have been a completely normal maneuver, as the fighter's pilot seemed to have no hesitation in performing the maneuver.
"He seems to have taken a keen interest in us, ever since he saw you," Noah said to himself while observing the situation in the docking bay of the fighter jet. "Before he would rather have driven us to hell."
"It's probably a trap," Ingmar speculated.
"You're in charge of the docking," Noah interrupted. "But I've also considered your idea." Noah didn't want to rule out any possibility at the moment. The matter is too complex to grasp. "The only thing that's clear is that your pack, Mr. Jeffrey, seems to be a mystery in every timeline."
Soon after, Noah, Jeffrey, and Dr. Celia were standing in the docking hatch, along with six security personnel. The ship had just docked and Tchaikovsky was now preparing to board.
As he entered through the docking hatch, his gaze was almost hypnotized by Jeffrey's. He stood in front of Jeffrey, raising his hands in a Vulcan gesture. "Longevity and prosperity," he said solemnly. "It's an honor to know you."
Jeffrey returned the gesture politely, but kept his attitude to himself.
"You're bound to have a lot of questions," Tchaikovsky said, turning to Noah. "And so do I. I assume you've prepared a space where we can talk without interruption."
"That's right," Noah nodded politely. "But before that, Dr. Celia will conduct a comprehensive scan on you. We want to prevent you from bringing in pathogens that could harm the crew."
Tchaikovsky frowned. "If you feel it is necessary."
"Indeed." Noah watched as Celia used the scanner to scan Tchaikovsky from head to toe. "We have to be careful. We haven't had too good an experience here before," he went on to explain.
When the scan was over, Celia nodded to the captain. "He has no problem."
"Thanks," Noah smiled. "Follow me if you like," he invited Tchaikovsky. Along with Jeffrey and two security officers, they made their way to the conference room located on this deck. Noah chose this small room, where few leadership meetings are held. But he didn't want Tchaikovsky walking around the entire ship. He didn't believe him. It's so weird that this man is working with a long-extinct race.
When they sat down, Jeffrey spoke. "How do you know so much about Vulcans?"
Tchaikovsky smiled and said: "You asked the question directly. I wouldn't expect anything else from a Vulcan."
"Then please tell us just as bluntly," Noah urged.
"First, I need to know something about you," Tchaikovsky evaded. "It would be too risky to tell you about us without knowing anything about you."
"Who are you afraid of?" Noah is equally reluctant to reveal information about himself and his crew, just like Tchaikovsky. Do they have a choice if they want to move on?
"The Earth Government and its lackeys," Tchaikovsky looked at them as if they were from another world.
"But we are not who you say we are," Noah denied.
Tchaikovsky smiled humorlessly. "You can tell me a lot of things. I don't recognize your uniforms, but that doesn't mean anything. Maybe a new secret organization has been formed to track us down. I would like to believe that you are on our side. But you have to give me something. Like where you are from, and where you, Mr. Jeffrey, are from."
Noah looked at Jeffrey, who nodded slightly in agreement. "We're from a parallel universe," Noah begins in a slightly adapted version. He did not intend for Tchaikovsky to know the complete truth. If they suspected they were trying to manipulate the timeline, then he would probably react like someone on Earth. "We came here by accident. We are currently looking for a way back. The Earth government is not particularly helpful to us, so we have to find a temporary safe place. Here, people do not know Vulcans, In our world, they are our close allies, so we want to ask for help here. We don't know that Vulcan no longer exists in this universe."
Tchaikovsky looked at him suspiciously. "Do you seriously think I'm going to believe this story? It sounds like the stupidest lie ever told by an Earth spy."
“Our stories leave evidence on our ship,” Noah reminded.
"This could come from other places as well."
"And we have two Vulcans on board, one of whom is half-Vulcan. We have a huge database on Vulcans and their inhabitants because Vulcans are members of the Federation of Federation Planets."
"Can you provide us with this knowledge? We would like to verify it." Tchaikovsky tried to hide his desire for these data.
