Perseus: Ghosts Part 3
Sorry it's taken so long, folks, but the new semester has kept me busy--we got a new text at the community college I teach at and I'm having to update much of my lecture notes--along with teaching which, along with family obligations leads to full rich days. But the good news is that I'm getting into the swing of things now. So...here goes!
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“Investigator B’ran...Security Directorate.” A medium height, well built, Vulcan male with tan skin and dark hair combed in the currently approved style announced. “You are the one who reported the homicide?”
Nodding her head, T’Pren replied, “Yes. I’m Lieutenant T’Pren. Chief tactical/security officer of USS Perseus.”
“Starfleet?” B’ran inquired, taking T’Pren’s single head nod as confirmation as he typed information on to his padd. “Your relationship to the deceased?”
Choking back a sob, T’Pren replied, “We were lovers.”
His right eyebrow raised slightly, the investigator commented, “I see.”
“Yeah.” T’Pren answered back, striking a defiant pose, “Got a problem with that?”
“Whether I have a problem or not is immaterial.” B’ran calmly responded. “I am interested in the circumstances surrounding the death of Larissa sh’ Lannonshin. You have admitted an emotional attachment to her. It would be illogical for me to not pursue all pertinent lines of inquiry. As a security officer, you should understand that.”
“Of course I do.” T’Pren reluctantly conceded. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “What do you want to know?”
Pausing for a moment, the Vulcan investigator suggested as a crime scene unit materialized near the hotel room door. “Perhaps it would be better if we continued our interview in a less trafficked location. If you would care to accompany to my office?”
“Am I under arrest?” T’Pren petulantly responded.
His stoic face not revealing any reaction to the younger Vulcan’s emotional response, B’ran replied, “It would be illogical to arrest you at this time. I merely proposed using my office as it is readily accessible and is private, but if you have an alternate venue that would make you feel more comfortable, I am amenable to conducting our interview there.”
“I’m sorry.” T’Pren apologized as she brushed back tears. “It’s just…”
“Understandable.” B’ran interjected, his facial expression still stoic.
Sighing, T’Pren nodded her head in acquiescence. “Your office will do. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
“One moment please.” B’ran responded as he walked over to the lead crime scene investigator. After a brief conversation, the Vulcan investigator nodded his head, “We can transport now.”
“What about…” T’Pren choked as she saw her deceased former lover being transferred to a gurney.
“The victim will be transported to our medical facility for a standard autopsy and then to the morgue where her body will remain in stasis until it is claimed by the next of kin.” The detective explained.
“I can provide you with contact information for her parents and brother.” T’Pren volunteered as she daubed her eyes with a tissue.
“Thank you.” B’ran responded, “That would be most helpful. If you are ready, we can transport now.”
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Nodding his head in the direction of an empty chair next to his desk, Inspector B’ran requested, “Sit and we can begin.”
“All right.” T’Pren replied, not sitting until after the detective had already taken his seat.
“Computer.” B’ran commanded, “Begin recording.” Turning his attention towards the woman seated across from him, the Vulcan investigator began the interview. “When did Larissa sh’ Lannonshin first contact you?”
I received a subspace message from her ninety-six hours ago.” T’Pren replied.
“While you were on the Perseus?
Nodding her head once, T’Pren answered, “Yes.”
“What was recorded on the message?” B’ran inquired.
“Personal stuff.” T’Pren answered back, her eyes boring into those of her interrogator.
“The material on the message could be pertinent to Dr. sh’ Lannonshin’s murder.” The investigator chided, “As both a Starfleet security officer and a Vulcan, you should understand the illogic in withholding such information.”
“Am I a suspect?” T’Pren countered.
“No.” B’ran answered back. “Your shuttle logs as well as communications with your commanding officer have ruled you out as a possible suspect. You could not have been on Vulcan at the time of Dr. sh’ Lannonshin’s murder. Now, I again ask, was there anything that Dr. Lannonshin say to you in her message that you think could be germane to her murder.”
“There is.” T’Pren reluctantly admitted, adding, “But I’m not sure I can trust you enough to tell you.”
“I see.” B’ran responded and then chided, “I do not understand the logic of your actions. All I can do is promise you, as a Vulcan, that I will only divulge those log entries that I must to close this case and bring Dr. Lannonshin’s murderer or murderers to justice. Further, I must remind you that even though you are obviously vtosh k’tar, you are Vulcan and you are also a peace officer in your own right. Surely you must see that maintaining your intransigence could only result in your friend’s murderer or murderers escaping unpunished?”
“I do not wish for Larissa’s murderer to escape justice.” T’Pren sighed. “Very well, I will play the message for you—but only under my terms.”
With a slight not of his head, the Vulcan detective indicated for T’Pren to continue.
“We’ll listen to it on my shuttlecraft, in high orbit, and only after I have been assured that we are secure from any and all possible forms of monitoring. You will be permitted to reproduce only those entries that are deemed absolutely necessary—no more.” Her eyes fixed on those of the detective, she added in a firm voice, “These terms are non-negotiable.”
Accepting her terms with a slight nod of his head, the Vulcan investigator replied, “Very well. While you are behaving quite illogically, your terms are not overly onerous. Shall we transport to your shuttlecraft? Once there, I can quickly gain clearance for flight.”
“Let’s go.”
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“I have complied with all your terms.” Detective B’ran, seated next to T’Pren on the passenger’s seat of the shuttlecraft Pegasus, announced to the Vulcan woman seated next to him. “Now, will you honor your terms of our agreement?”
“All right.” T’Pren reluctantly replied as she placed the data rod into its receptacle. “This is the recording I received.”
B’ran watched and listened intently as the message played out. Once it had completed, the detective remarked in a level tone, “Dr. Lannonshin mentioned a ‘smoking gun’ in T’Pol’s diaries. Do you know what she meant?”
“No…” T’Pren shook her head. “I remember when I first met her while I was a cadet that she was working on the diaries of T’Pol…that she was investigating the rise of Syrrannist Surakism and the Vulcan High Command.”
“It does not seem logical for Dr. Lannonshin to be murdered over this.” Detective B’ran mused, “Unless…”
“An immediate descendant—child or grandchild—is involved.” T’Pren interjected.
“A possibility…but not likely.” B’ran replied. “Even an immediate descendant would have no logical reason to feel guilt—that is an emotional response.”
“Maybe not guilt.” T’Pren persisted. “The intention might be to cover up the involvement of one or more outside entities.”
“Such as?”
“The Romulans.” T’Pren immediately answered. “It has been postulated for years that the High Command had been infiltrated by one or more deep cover Romulan agents.”
“There has never been conclusive proof of such infiltration or interference.” B’ran responded, “But…if Dr. Lannonshin had found or was thought to have found proof of such involvement, then that could conceivably result in interested parties desiring to ensure that such proof never surfaced. If that is the case…” the Vulcan detective remarked in a matter of fact tone, “…then it would appear that those parties have…for the moment at least…succeeded in their goal.”
Noticing a red dot flashing on her console, a slight frown crossed T’Pren’s features. Reacting quickly, hoping that the detective didn’t notice the signal, the younger Vulcan responded jerked her head towards the transporter pad in the rear of the shuttle, indicating non-verbally to the police inspector that their time together had ended.
His face an expressionless mask, B’ran rose from his seat, taking the unspoken hint. “Lieutenant. I trust that should you come across any pertinent information that you will inform the proper authorities.”
“Of course.” T’Pren replied as she activated the transporter. “Live long and prosper.” She added with a mildly sarcastic smile as the detective dematerialized. The transport process completed, the security officer turned her attention back to the console and its waiting message. Taking a deep breath, T’Pren commanded, “Computer...play incoming message."
Gasping as she saw Larissa’s face, her usual smile this time replaced by a worried frown, T’Pren held her breath for several moments as her old lover spoke in a tired and fearful voice. “T’Pren. If you’re receiving this message, then I’m either...” The youthful Andorian visibly gulped before pronouncing the next several words, “...dead...or I’ve been ‘disappeared’ by the people who are after me. The smart thing for you to do would be to delete this message and live what I hope will be a long and happy life, but I have a feeling that if you’re still the T’Pren I knew, that you’re not going to want to do that—that you’re going to want to get to the bottom of this.” Pausing for a moment, an especially grave expression appeared on the Andorian’s face. “Before I continue though, I want you to promise me that you’re going to do this with the right intentions. I don’t want you going on a vengeance quest or anything like that. If I am dead, that will not make me rest any easier, nor will it change the fact that I am gone. Do this so that the record is clear. Bring this into the sunlight because that’s where it should be. Do I have that promise from you?”
After several seconds, Larissa continued with a sigh, “I guess that’ll have to do. Ok, T’Pren. Here’s what I need you to do. Go to the Special Collections wing of the Vulcan Central Library. Ask for the printed bound—not the electronic—edition of Surak’s ‘Meditations on the Katra. Third Edition.’ It has to be the third edition.” Larissa emphasized, “Not the first or second and most definitely not the generally more accepted fourth edition. Read page 874...read it closely...very closely...and what I need you to do will become very clear.” After several moments of silence, Larissa’s lips turned up into a shaky smile, “I guess I better sign off now, T’Pren. Know that I’ve always loved you and that I miss you. Live long and prosper.”
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Shaking her head as she listened to her deceased lover’s instruction, T’Pren slowly exhaled, “What did you get yourself into, Larissa, and what are you getting me into?” Pausing for a moment as she gathered her thoughts, the young Vulcan, after directing the computer to return the shuttlecraft to its assigned berth on the surface, took her place on the transporter pad. “Beam me down to the front lobby of the Vulcan Central Library.”
Materializing at her destination, T’Pren took a nearby lift to the floor containing the special collections section. Knowing in advance that the hologram receptionist would merely refer her to the librarian responsible for the wing, T’Pren ignored the photonic being, taking a beeline path towards the librarian at that moment standing before a monitor behind a traditional v’tran wood counter. Addressing the attendant, T’Pren requested in a polite voice, “I would like to check out the third edition of Surak’s Meditations on the Katra.”
Tilting his head slightly towards the holo-librarian, the Vulcan archivist replied, “The fourth edition is the academic standard. The holo-librarian can assist you with your needs.”
“I don’t want the fourth edition.” T’Pren responded in an icy voice, directing her gaze directly into the eyes of the librarian. “I specifically requested the third. Now, unless there is some specific reason as to why I should not be granted access to it, I would appreciate it very much if you would get it for me and if there is a reason...” she added, her tone now carrying a much sharper edge, “...then I would like to speak to the head archivist of this wing.”
His eyebrow raised at the young Vulcan’s display of pique, the archivist answered back, “There is no specific reason. I will retrieve the volume for you.”
“Thank you.” A triumphant T’Pren replied with just the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice.
Once again appearing to ignore his customer’s emotional reaction, the attendant returned several minutes later with an old, leather bound volume. “This is the third edition. Please place your hand here.” He directed, motioning with his head at a silver metallic plate on the counter. Immediately recognizing the plate as a standard DNA scanner commonly used in libraries and similar places, T’Pren nodded her head as she placed her hand on the plate. Moments later, the archivist handed the volume to the younger Vulcan. Taking the book, T’Pren made her way to a nearby cubicle where she could read the text in privacy. Opening the book to the page number Larissa had mentioned in her message, T’Pren began to read. At first, she didn’t find anything odd—just the usual text, in this case Surak’s mediations on violence, but, remembering her deceased lover’s words to “read closely...very closely...” T’Pren concentrated more on not just the words, but on the page as well. That was when she noticed it...a transparent slip so very small, so slight and so easily missed by even the most observant eye. Carefully, T’Pren removed the transparency, placing it on her comm badge. Carefully closing the book, the young Vulcan returned it to the attendant.
“Here.” T’Pren announced as she handed the volume back to the archivist. “I found what I was looking for.”
As she walked out the door, the security officer never noticed the attendant press a small button underneath his counter, nodding his head at a young Vulcan male at a nearby data terminal as he did so. The young male, nodding his head in response, waited until T’Pren had exited the archives before approaching the archivist. “You have done well, A’ten.” The young man declared, “You will find your wife and children safe at home when you return there this evening.” With that promise, the young man walked away in the same footsteps of the woman who had just left.
And bread... my beautiful, beautiful carbs!
This will hit T'Pren very hard, no doubt. It seems Hobson's intuition was correct.
