Chapter 134. Explosion, many mysteries
Then the guards stepped forward and motioned for Noah to follow them. After casting a last glance at the surrounding crowd, the admiral was led away without resistance. There was no point in resisting, and his previous statements seemed ridiculous. He was led out again by the guards along the same door through which he had come in.
Otis respects Noah even more for his performance. While he still believed the Federation had a hand in the bombing, he was now convinced that Noah actually knew nothing about it. Now, because of his belief, he seems to have automatically jumped into the trap. In fact, he's pitiful because the Federation seems to be using him as a sacrificial lamb.
After Noah was taken out of the room, Shan Mo spoke again. "Perhaps we should consider whether our latest findings should be made available to humans."
"There's no way you mean that," said the crawling Cindy angrily. "With our discovery, we have a clear advantage over humans. We cannot let them know this so they can build a false defense."
"It's just some clues at the moment..." Shan Mo tried to say, but he couldn't continue.
"This is evidence," Centiyu growled. "We will not allow this data to be handed over."
"We think the same thing," Cindy the Insect chirped, supporting Cindy the Crawling's stance.
Then all eyes turned to Otis. Now he must take a stand. But he hasn't decided yet on whose side he's on. He must weigh which option is better for him and his future. But he hadn't come to a conclusion yet as he thought about it.
However, the aquarium Cindy Lingyu made the decision before him. "We will provide data to federal ships," he decided. "But they won't have the opportunity to communicate with their home planet."
The Aquarium Cindyling's decision was unexpected and very clear. This clarity is unusual for an aquarium fish. But they definitely have their reasons. Maybe they watched Noah over the past few days and came to the conclusion that they could trust him. Or maybe there's a completely different reason. Outsiders may never know. But that was the deal, even if Cindy Crawling objected. Because the Aquatic Cindyling currently controls this system. And no Sindy species alone can compete with the aquarium Sindy Lingfish. Ultimately, everyone must accept the decision.
Otis was relieved not to have to comment. In this way, he can continue to observe the development of the situation. Maybe it will be easier to make a decision after a few days.
On deck 3, the liquid warp elevator door opened, and Gabriel Caro stepped forward. She walked quickly down the empty hallway ahead. No one is here at the moment. This is because there are only crew accommodation areas on deck and there are still a few hours until the next shift. Everyone on duty is at their post. While those resting are already engaged in their leisure activities or sleeping.
For Carol, it was just right. She didn't want to be stopped on the road. Hallway chat now is something she won't tolerate. Because the situation they are in is too serious and time is too tight.
It's been nearly two days now and Cindy has blocked any communication. They were cut off from all information and had no idea what the other Cindy were discussing or what else they might have discovered. They also didn’t know Noah’s condition.
Amazingly, Cindy briefly unblocked her communications about a day ago. What initially looked like a technical glitch turned out to be intentional. In those few seconds, they delivered new data to the Republic. These statistics are intended to prove human guilt. Maybe Cindy wants to use the data to torture the Republic crew. But at the same time, the data also provide opportunities for further investigation. And they did investigate. Jeffrey has spent the day reviewing, evaluating, and combining this new data with existing data. They should be able to move forward as a result.
Unfortunately, Jeffrey has said little to nothing about the new data so far. His only comment was that discovering antimatter transport containers was interesting and that he didn't have enough data to build a theory yet. Beyond that, little information has been gained from the Vulcan.
But now Carol was no longer satisfied with this answer. She wanted more specific information. She needed everything he knew, even if it wasn't enough to build a theory. So, she was heading to his quarters. Jeffrey went back more than a day ago so he could work in peace. Now she was going to get him out of there, even if she had to hold him up herself.
In his accommodation area, she pressed the doorbell and waited for him to open the door. The door took a little longer to open than usual. Maybe he discovered something and wanted to protect the data first. Finally, the door opened in front of her.
"Mr. Jeffrey, I'm so glad you're safe," she said, slightly tartly. "We haven't heard from you for a long time and we miss you already."
"I'm fine," he replied calmly. Vulcans are immune to sarcasm.
"That's great to hear. How's your work going?"
"There is some progress..."
"Very well," she interrupted him quickly, and Jeffrey only raised his right eyebrow slightly, but did not show any other reaction. "Then show me what you've got."
"There are not enough facts yet to justify these data," he declined.
"You will now show me what you already have," she said firmly. "Or I will order you to do so."
Jeffrey hesitated, but then seemed to realize she was right and stepped aside.
Carol walked in. The Vulcan's quarters were simply decorated. There are no personal belongings to give the accommodation area a more homely feel, nor anything that does not serve some logical and efficient purpose. The only thing that could be called personal was the Vulcan meditation candle that sat on a low table in front of the couch. There is also the typical Vulcan harp sitting on the cabinet. Every Wacken child learns this instrument. Every Vulcan can play a moving melody. These emotional songs are a stark contrast to this highly logical race.
In addition, Jeffrey has an extended computer terminal in his accommodation area, giving him full access to the ship's main computer. This way, he can also work without restrictions here. Like now.
"Please show me what you have discovered," Carol asked politely.
He points to the computer. "Please," was all he said, motioning for her to come over. Then he pulled up some data. "These images of antimatter transport containers don't give many clues. They could have been taken anywhere, and they could even be fake. However, at the moment we have no way to verify that."
“But if these containers are indeed found in buildings outside of the destroyed area, there will be questions that cannot be answered with the existing data.
First: Why were these containers discovered two weeks after the explosion?
Second: If the suspect placed the containers there, how did he get the antimatter into the negotiating building? When he opens the container, the fusion reaction will begin immediately. The antimatter will immediately react with the matter of the air molecules. In this case, the suspect must transfer the antimatter to another suitable transport device. This is an extremely dangerous task and difficult to accomplish without appropriate loading and unloading facilities.
Third: If the Federation was involved, why would they leave these shipping containers in such plain sight? Every assassin tries to erase his own traces. The easiest way to do this is to place the shipping container as close to the crime scene as possible. After the antimatter reaction occurs, the container will leave no trace behind. "
Carol raised her eyebrows and frowned. These were valuable clues that Jeffrey unearthed. However, it is doubtful whether Cindy sees it this way. As long as there is no hard evidence to answer these questions, Cindy will regard everything as speculation. And the crew can't get any conclusive evidence, as long as Cindy continues to block communications. So they still don't know if Starfleet is looking for antimatter. It's really disappointing.
"Well done, Mr. Jeffrey," she said at last. "But I beg you, even if you have no theory, to inform me of these findings as soon as possible."
Jeffrey just nodded slightly in response. To him, that was proof enough of her instructions. Although he disagrees because for him it is illogical to provide information without a connection between the information and a lack of connection to the overall situation. However, it is also logical to obey the orders of your superiors, as long as it does not harm anyone. And finally, there is some flexibility in the directive and some discretion as to when actual conditions are reported.
Jeffrey asked, "Can I ask you what you're going to do next?"
A cold smile appeared on Carol's lips. "I'm not sure yet myself," she replied candidly. This situation is too complicated. "First, we have to restore communications. Otherwise we can't do anything. We need to communicate with Starfleet and the Sindi. We have to make progress here and make a difference."
"That's right," Jeffrey confirmed, but he had no advice of his own on what to do next, so he remained silent.
“Do you think you can get more information out of the existing data and analyze it?”
"It's possible," he replied hesitantly. "However, every time you look at it, the likelihood becomes a little bit less likely. We're now at a point where the effort exceeds the return."
"Okay," Carol nodded thoughtfully. "Then you take a rest first, and then report to the computer room. Maybe you can help Daisy and work with her to overcome communication obstacles." She deliberately did not set a rest time for him, because she knew he would definitely not abide by it. Moreover, Vulcans require significantly less rest time than humans.
"I will," he confirmed.
Carol nodded absently. "I'll let Daisy know," she went on. She had originally planned to go to the computer room to see the progress. She turned towards the door. "See you later," she said before leaving his room and heading to the computer room. She must discuss the progress with Daisy. if so. Overcoming the communications blockade is a top priority. There is nothing more important than this at the moment. And, damn, they have the most advanced ships in the fleet. There should be something they can do.
Darkness has long enveloped the city, like a heavy black coat. It is like a veil of oblivion, making the desolation of the city less obvious. The view is limited to what's illuminated by the sparse street lights, everything else is out of sight, as if they don't exist.
The night has deepened and midnight has passed. Despite this, there are still some people wandering the streets in this run-down neighborhood. Most of them were so drunk that they could barely walk. They staggered, tripped or fell in the streets. At this time, the area’s bars and taverns do their best business. The guests are mostly questionable characters from all corners of the universe who are stranded in this place, or simply don't have a homeland to welcome them. As a result, they eke out a living through mostly illegal and dangerous jobs that often only allow them to give it all again at the end of the day, or lose it all, drink it all, or otherwise lose it. Every night some particularly unlucky people get involved in violent fights that cost them their lives.
On the main street of this run-down town, a bar was hosting the noisiest celebration. Thick smoke filled the room, making it almost impossible to breathe. The people present were smoking a variety of different plants, most of which had strong or mild narcotic effects and came from countless different planets. In addition, high noise makes it difficult to understand one's own words. Several music players emitted strange sounds that some groups considered music. People in a crowded bar are shouting at each other, trying to understand some of what the other person is saying. The noise was unimaginable. But most of those present were too drunk to understand anything. Yet, perhaps because of this, the atmosphere turned carnival. People cheered loudly, cracked jokes, and some deep voice always burst into laughter as another crude joke was passed around. With almost only men in this crowded bar, women will be seen as prey for satisfying entertainment. The few women who ventured here either looked so masculine that they were not in danger, or so strong and persuasive that they could fend off the advances of drunken men.
Among the group, several were accompanied by a Klingon and an Andorian. They raised their glasses, shouted cheers, and downed the highly potent liquid in one gulp. It was a ritual they had done so many times tonight that no one could remember the exact number.
"Cheers to our captain!" shouted a man, a blond with blue eyes and a scar on his cheek that didn't heal well. He raised the glass again, causing the wine to spill. "And his wonderful tactics."
"Here's to Captain Razor!" shouted the others, knocking their glasses again, and drank them all. The waiters could hardly keep up with their drinking speed.
When the cup was full again, Lei Ze also raised his cup. "This is the best crew ever for these damn scoundrels," he shouted, loud and excited.
His teammates cheered in agreement. Of course, they think they are the best crew.
For several months, they were very successful in their field. No other pirates plundered more cargo ships than they did. Ever since they captured Demon Flame's weapons, they have become unbeatable. No one can stand against them for long, and in most cases they can penetrate the shields of the opposing ship in two attacks. And their ships' cloaking devices made the raids even more effective. They have become the undisputed kings of pirates. The latest robbery brought them a large amount of supplies, gold, titanium and other valuable precious metals, making them rich beyond compare, something that human pirates have never been able to achieve in hundreds of years. Now, some people on the boat have proposed to stop and live a good life with the stolen wealth. Others, like the Klingon Spin Turtle, definitely want to continue. For them, there is no reason to stop, and as long as they remain so dominant, they have the potential to grow their wealth even further. But in reality, these men live for combat and the excitement it generates. They never stop.
Razer knew this could only go forward if the crew came together as one. If some of them leave, the status quo will not be sustainable. Integrating new members is almost impossible. They will always be the latecomers, the ones sitting back and enjoying the benefits. They haven't had the difficult time of this crew coming together and taking shape. Therefore, he must keep his crew together because he is not satisfied with victory yet. And he knew that, this time, he could stop those who wanted to leave. Because since they've been so successful, he's been undisputed as captain.
Lei Ze didn't know how long this situation could last. Their success also brought a dark side. First there are the victims, who are clearly not happy about it at all. Although Razer tried to keep the number of casualties to a minimum, he could not avoid them completely. Moreover, his robbery of cargo ships also brought huge material losses to some ethnic groups. So, people are doing everything they can to make him and his team pay. The number of warships in the area gradually increased, although most did not pose a serious threat to the Negro. However, when great powers such as the Grand Federation, Klingons, or Sindi begin to increase their forces to hunt down and destroy this pesky pirate ship, the situation of the Black Specter could become very dangerous.
Secondly, there are the jealous. Other pirates and thieves resented the success of Razor and his team, as it undermined their success. These scum might leak information to the great powers, telling them where the Negro and his team can be found. Lei Ze was more worried about this kind of betrayal than being accidentally discovered by a large warship. But there was little he could do to prevent it, and he could only remain cautious and vigilant, disclosing as little information as possible to others.
When their table was once again filled with bottles of Romulan ale whiskey, Razer stood up, but due to the influence of alcohol, he had to prop himself up on the table to steady himself at that moment. Then he regained his balance and turned toward the crowd. "I have to use the restroom," he told his men, then made his way through the crowd to find the door to the next door. Razor is unusually tall and strong for a human. He could look down at most people, at least in this smoke-filled place, he could still see clearly what was going on around him. Due to his strength, he is able to move through crowds of people with relative ease.
On his way to the bathroom, he passed the bar counter, where many different species of creatures were huddled together, vying to get their next drink. He pushed forward with difficulty. Walking to the door, which led to the next door, he hesitated and took a deep breath. The cleanliness in the restroom is not attractive. Trash left behind by more than a dozen different species of creatures, some of which inherently require different types of toilets due to their different anatomy, are so drunk that they simply can't align themselves in the right spot, which can be stomach-churning. But what else could he do? The best thing is not to think about it. So he tried to ignore the thought and pushed the door open and went inside.
In the bar, a Terran with a pig face looked at him drunkenly. He looked like he was trying to remember something, but couldn't. It seemed like he recognized Lei Ze, but didn't know where he knew this human from. Slowly, he scratched his head, but still couldn't remember.
