Perseus: Ghosts

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by DavidFalkayn, Sep 14, 2018 at 10:04 PM.

  1. DavidFalkayn

    DavidFalkayn Commodore Premium Member

    Dec 13, 2003
    This is the first new Perseus I've completed in some time. It's a relatively short story that focuses on the chief tactical officer, the v'tosh katur Vulcan, T'Pren. It also brings in some plot elements that will be explored in future Sutherland, Perseus, and when they're ready for prime time, Bellerophon stories. I hope everyone enjoys it!
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  2. DavidFalkayn

    DavidFalkayn Commodore Premium Member

    Dec 13, 2003
    Ghosts: Part 1

    P’jem Monastery

    “Gods!” An attractive blue-skinned Andorian woman exclaimed as she carefully reread the Vulcan text lying open on her desk making sure that she had translated the obscure dialect correctly. Shaking her head, she sighed as she closed the book and began a most ominous and foreboding log entry. “I’ve found what the humans call the ‘smoking gun’ in these ‘lost diaries’ of T’Pol that a friend loaned to me. T’Pol was very careful. Besides using a pre-Surak dialect, she wrote in a code that took me over three years to decipher. I suspect that she must have had help from Hoshi Sato in developing the code. The only way I managed to even begin cracking it was that I picked up on certain human and other elements that would not have appeared in any Vulcan code of the period, but that Sato would have been able to have easily put together. What’s in this’s hot. Once it gets out...” The Andorian historian paused as a light flashed on her computer monitor. “They know...” she exclaimed, a note of panic in her voice, “I have to move...they’re coming for me and the diary. I know a place where I can hide the diary and my notes, but I have to get out of here and get help and there’s only one person I can truly trust—but will she still be willing to help me after all this time? I hope so. Gods I hope so! End recording.”

    Taking the recording rod from its slot and quickly gathering the diary and her notes, Larissa threw together the few clothes she possessed into a valise. Then, addressing the computer, she commanded, “Computer...transmit the following message to Lieutenant T’Pren on board USS Perseus from Larissa sh’ Lannonshin. Plastering a nervous smile on her face, Larissa spoke, “Hey baby...”


    “Thanks for the workout, Samuels!” Lieutenant T’Pren remarked cheerfully to the young human who had agreed to serve as her sparring partner as she wiped the sweat off her arms and legs with a towel.

    “Don’t mention it, sir!” Crewman Richard Samuels replied as he joined his superior officer in cooling down. “I was getting rusty. I hadn’t been in a bout since Basic.”

    “Well...” The young Vulcan woman answered back, flashing a friendly grin taking the newly arrived security crewman aback. Noticing the surprised look on the young crewman’s face, T’Pren’s grin grew wider as she redid her ponytail, “Never seen a Vulcan smile before, have you? I’ve gotta admit, most of us don’t. Anyway, to get back to what we were talking showed me a couple of moves I hadn’t seen before.”

    “Oh...” Samuels blushed, “I picked those up from a friend of mine who’s into this Bolian martial art—I can’t remember right off hand what it’s called. It involves making use of a lot of feints to lull your opponent into making a reckless move and then countering by striking at the exposed weak-point.

    “I see...” A now more thoughtful T’Pren replied. “Maybe you could teach those moves to the rest of the team?”

    Pleased at his superior’s praise, the young enlisted rating beamed, “I’d love to, sir.”

    “Great!” T’Pren smiled back. “I’ll get with you and your division leader and we’ll set up a schedule.” Then, catching a whiff of her aroma, the young Vulcan woman blushed a delicate shade of green, “Don’t know about you, but I’m going to hit the showers—I positively reek. Thanks again for the workout!” She called out again as she walked away.

    Watching the retreating form of the Vulcan security chief wearing her skin-tight gym togs, the young man sighed longingly.

    “Forget about her, Samuels.” A female voice playfully teased, “No way you’re ever going to get her interested in someone like you.”

    “Why?” Samuels retorted, “She got a problem with getting involved with lower ranks?”

    “No...” The woman chuckled, “It’s not your rank.”

    “Then what is the problem?” Samuels bit back, his frustration growing as T’Pren disappeared behind the sliding door.

    “It’s your gender.” The woman responded, her voice tone now a bit more sympathetic. “She’s only interested in girls. Preferably, from what I’ve heard in the gossip mill, blue skinned and with white hair and antennae...”


    Stripping off her gym togs the moment the door to her quarters slid shut behind her, T’Pren noticed the blinking light on her desk indicating a stored subspace message. Internally debating as to whether to check the message out now or wait until after she had finished her sonic shower, the young Vulcan, after getting yet another whiff of her body odor from her armpits, decided that hygiene couldn’t wait, “Shower now...message later.” Emerging a short time later from her shower, the security chief, now clad in a white terry-cloth bathrobe, began brushing back her long, luxurious auburn hair as she sat down at the desk. “Computer...” she commanded in between brush strokes, “ messages.”

    As a familiar and long-missed face appeared on her viewscreen, T’Pren gasped in pleased astonishment, “Larissa!” Her pleasure quickly turned to concern though as the perceptive Vulcan at once picked up on the worried look on her lover’s face.

    “Hey baby...I know it’s been a while...too long...” the smile that had been on the Andorian woman’s lips turned down into a frown as she continued to speak, “...but with everything going on...the war and all...I guess we got kind of separated. I wouldn’t blame you if you cut me off right now, love, but I hope you’ll at least listen to the rest of this message first—it’s important—as in ‘lives—my own especially—on the line’ important.” Pausing to take a breath, the lovely historian brushed back a stray lock of white hair before continuing. “To make a long story short, after the war, I continued my research into pre-Romulan War Vulcan history—you know the stuff I was working on dealing with the return of Syranists to power and T’Pol and Tucker’s role and possible tie-ins to the Terra Prime movement and all. Well...” The young Andorian glanced nervously to her side before continuing, “I found something. Something big. Something I don’t think I was supposed to find. And it was out there all the time—all someone had to do was look hard enough for it. If...when...” she stated definitively, her eyes now displaying her Andorian warrior heritage, “...this gets out—a lot of people—I mean a lot—are going to get extremely pissed off. T’Pren...” her frown deepening as she saw the look of fear on her lover’s face, T’Pren leaned forward towards the monitor, watching and listening with even greater intensity. “...I need to see you. You can find me on Vulcan at the Valaran Hotel...suite 4314. Please...please...come. I’m scared, honey. Really scared.”

    Exhaling deeply as her old girlfriend’s image vanished from the monitor, T’Pren, springing to her feet, quickly donned her uniform as she tapped her comm badge. “T’Pren to Captain Hobson. Sir...may I see you for a few moments at your earliest convenience?”

    His thoughts concentrated on the Fu’Puk after-action report sitting before him on his desk, the fastidious commanding officer of the Perseus, quickly detecting the urgent timber in his security chief’s request responded in his usual quiet, patrician, voice. “Of course, Lieutenant. Would now be a sufficiently good time?”

    “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” The young Vulcan responded, heaving a sigh of relief as she took a recording of the message along with her. “I’m on my way.”



    Entering Captain Hobson’s ready room the moment the door swooshed open, T’Pren strode quickly towards the captain’s desk, coming to a halt just before it.

    Looking up from his padd, a trace of a smile appeared on the Iceman’s lips as he observed his security chief standing before him. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

    “I received this, sir...from Larissa.” T’Pren began tentatively, handing the recorded message of her lover to the patrician captain. “I’d appreciate it if you’d listen to it and tell me what you think?”

    “Are you sure, Lieutenant?” Chris asked with a raised eyebrow that would have done a Vulcan proud.

    “It’s all right, sir.” T’Pren replied, once again giving her assent, “There’s nothing in there for me—or you—to be embarrassed about. It’s just that...” pausing for a moment, the young Vulcan gave up trying to find the words, “...well,’d probably be better if you went on ahead and saw it.”

    “If you’re sure...” Taking the single, silent nod of her head as assent, the captain listened and watched intently as the video message played. Once the message ended, Chris removed the recording and handed it back to the Vulcan woman standing before him, inquiring, “Do you remember what sort of research she was doing?”

    Casting her mind back to her Academy days, T’Pren took several moments to consider her answer before cautiously replying, “I know she was pursuing a possible connection between the Terra Prime movement and the Vulcan High Command, but as far as I know, it never went anywhere—she just couldn’t find the sources to corroborate her hypothesis.”

    “Perhaps she finally did find them.” The scholarly Hobson commented and then inquired, “Do you have any ideas as to who or what it might be that is frightening her?”

    “No, sir.” The lovely Vulcan responded, shaking her head, her long ponytail swishing from left to right as she did. “I can’t think of anyone...after all, it’s been over two hundred years...”

    “Hmmmm...” The brown-haired captain vocalized as his mind calculated various possibilities, not liking any of them. “So... what do you want to do?”

    “Well, sir...” T’Pren began tentatively, “I do have several weeks of leave accumulated.”

    “That you do.” The captain affirmed. “I take it that you would like to take that leave to see your friend?”

    “Yes, sir.” The young Vulcan replied with a nod of her head.

    “I see.” The captain took several moments to carefully consider his junior officer’s request before reaching a decision, “Lieutenant...are you sure you wish to do this?”

    “Sir?” A somewhat confused T’Pren replied, not expecting that answer from her captain. “What do you mean ‘Am I sure?’”

    Exhaling the slightest of sighs, Captain Hobson spoke cautiously and in a very low, almost inaudible tone, “If your friend has attracted the attention of the people I think she might have attracted, it might already be too late for her and you might find that you’ve landed into a situation that you might not be able to extricate yourself from...even with my help.”

    Her eyes betraying her concern for her old lover, T’Pren inquired with an edged voice, “What are you talking about, sir? Who are these people and what do you mean about it being too late for Larissa?”

    Motioning with his hand for his subordinate to take the seat opposite his desk, Hobson explained, “As you’ve been made aware through Leyton’s coup attempt and other...incidents, there are many forces and factions at work within and without the Federation. The confusion and chaos created by the lead up to the War, the War itself, and its aftermath, have given these factions a great deal of opportunities. One such opportunity we saw recently at Fu’Puk...”

    “But that was the Klingons...” T’Pren began only to be cut off by her captain.

    “True.” Hobson agreed, “But that still does not exclude the possibility of some involvement by one or more of these factions. Between you and me, Lieutenant, I have a feeling the book has not been completely written on Fu’Puk as yet.”

    “So... what does this have to do with Larissa?” T’Pren asked.

    “Terra Prime has never completely gone away.” Hobson replied with a grimace. “It has instead metamorphosed and combined with other factions and entities—some of which...” he cautioned, “ under the umbrella of Starfleet and enjoy the support and protection of prominent individuals and organizations not just in Starfleet, but on Earth as well.”

    “Who exactly are these factions?” The young Vulcan queried of her captain.

    Shaking his head, Hobson replied, “One of them is Section 31—you might have heard of that group.”

    "Only through rumors and conspiracy theories, sir." T'Pren replied, "I never took them seriously though."

    "Well..." Chris replied, "You can believe me when I tell you that while much of what is said about Section 31 and its activities is exaggerated, there is enough that is real for us all to be worried. But they're not the only ones. Another is the New Essentialist Movement.”

    “I thought they had been discredited after that affair on Risa.” T’Pren interjected.

    “Not completely.” Hobson answered back with a single shake of his head. “While Fullerton and his group’s attempt to sabotage the weather control system on Risa did cause a temporary setback to the movement, the New Essentialist Party disowned Fullerton and was able to make a complete recovery shortly afterward. If anything, thanks to the war, the movement has actually gained in popularity within the Federation.”

    “So... how do the New Essentialists play into this?” An increasingly curious T’Pren asked.

    “They’re one of the public and legitimate...or semi-legitimate in the case of the New Essentialists...faces of these factions.” Chris replied. “Along with a few other groups and parties—some of which might even surprise you if my suspicions are correct.” Shaking his head, the captain conjectured, “But no... I don’t think the New Essentialists are involved here.”

    “So, who else might be?” The security officer asked, repeating her earlier question.

    Sighing, Hobson replied, “It would take too long to explain in detail and much of what I do have is hearsay—second and third hand information...”

    “Forgive me, sir...” T’Pren ventured, the vaguest hints of a sarcastic smile crossing her lips, “But a lot of this stuff sounds like...”

    “The sort of stuff you’d find in a cheap holo-novel.” Captain Hobson interrupted, a rare, ironic grin appearing briefly on his face. “That’s what I thought at first.” He said, the smile on his face disappearing now to be replaced by his usual expressionless mask, “But then I found out the hard way that while much of it are just rumors and innuendo with no basis in truth—nothing more than a big pile of mugatu droppings really...” he remarked in an uncustomary earthy manner. “There are enough...more than enough...elements of truth. Elements that can and will hurt you and those closest to you if you prove too much of a problem to them. There are bogeymen in the woods, Lieutenant, make no mistake about that.” The captain firmly warned his visage now ice-cold. “But...I’ll give you what information I can if you insist on your course of action.”

    Nodding her head once, T’Pren affirmed, “I do, sir...with your permission, of course.”

    “Very well, Lieutenant.” Chris unenthusiastically agreed. “It’s quiet in this sector for now and your department is in good order. Permission reluctantly granted, but be careful.” Pausing for a moment as he gazed into the determined eyes of his subordinate, the captain inquired, “I assume you’ll need a shuttle or runabout?”

    “Thank you, Captain.” T’Pren responded with an appreciative grin, “A shuttle should suffice.”

    Nodding his head Hobson assented to his security officer’s request, “Very good, you may take the Pegasus. When do you plan to begin your leave?”

    “As soon as possible—if that’s all right with you, sir.” The Vulcan lieutenant promptly replied.

    “That would be acceptable. Ensign Galway should prove an adequate stand-in until your return.” Hobson concurred, “I will have what information I have available for you before you depart. I suggest strongly that you study it while enroute to Vulcan.”

    “Thank you, sir.” T’Pren smiled as she rose to her feet and turned to leave.

    “I hope everything works out well for you and your friend.” Chris concluded, dismissing the young lieutenant, “If you need assistance...”

    “I won’t hesitate to call, sir.” A grateful T’Pren responded
    Last edited: Sep 15, 2018 at 4:10 AM
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  3. admiralelm11

    admiralelm11 Commander Red Shirt

    Jan 17, 2009
    Vancouver, WA
    I’m glad to see that you’re getting back to this story. And the Bellerophon? I’d be interested to hear more about the ideas behind that. :)
  4. CeJay

    CeJay Commodore Commodore

    Feb 5, 2006
    This story feels familiar. I seem to remember this from years ago. I don't think it was ever finished. Looking forward to find out what conspiracy may have been uncovered here.
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  5. DavidFalkayn

    DavidFalkayn Commodore Premium Member

    Dec 13, 2003
    I posted it on our forum. It is finished now and I hope everyone likes the ending. Right now, Bellerophon is still very much on the drawing board stage. I've got a few principal characters: Captain Boris Rodenko (Thanks to LoneRedShirt for allowing me to give him command), Commander Ilya Zhreven (A Halenoi--a race encountered by USS Lexington), First Officer; Commander Vordus (Again thanks to LoneRedShirt) the CMO; Lieutenant Pamela Rydell in Engineering, and Ensign Angelica Harmon (a woman with something of a mysterious past) helmsman.
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  6. admiralelm11

    admiralelm11 Commander Red Shirt

    Jan 17, 2009
    Vancouver, WA
    Awesome! Keep up with the great stories, United Trek!
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  7. DavidFalkayn

    DavidFalkayn Commodore Premium Member

    Dec 13, 2003
    Ghosts: Part 2

    “Vulcan Central? This is the shuttlecraft Pegasus, temporarily detached from USS Perseus, Lieutenant T’Pren piloting, requesting clearance to land Kyrshara Starport, groundside.”

    “Shuttle Pegasus. There will be a one-hour delay before clearance can be granted.” A flat monotone voice responded. “Once final clearance has been given, follow standard customs and debarkation procedures upon landing.”

    “Will do, Vulcan Central. Thanks, and have a nice day.” Her laughter escaping as she imagined the ground control technician’s probable response to her sign off—most likely a raised eyebrow. T’Pren shook her head, allowing her long, luxurious, auburn locks to cascade freely down her shoulders and back. Sitting back in her chair, T’Pren took a deep breath and exhaled as she glanced down at the padd on her lap containing Hobson’s notes that she had been reading for the umpteenth time. “How did you get all this information, Captain.” T’Pren whispered in a low voice.

    Chuckling at her commanding officer’s wry wit as she read some of his marginal notes on the more fanciful conspiracy theories...the young lieutenant’s lips turned down into a frown as she read her captain’s conclusions regarding the intricate webs and alliances from those organizations and groups that he either knew or felt to be real. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled as she promised in a low, nearly inaudible voice, “ and I are going to have a long talk when I return.” Placing the padd in its receptacle, the young Vulcan spoke in a louder voice, commanding, “Computer? Take control and land at the given coordinates once they give the go-ahead.”

    “Acknowledged.” The female voice responded, “Estimated arrival time in one hour fifteen minutes.”

    Getting up out of her chair, T’Pren sighed, “Good. That should give me just enough time to grab a quick sonic shower and get changed out of this uniform.”


    A torrent of worry raced through T’Pren as she fixed a dusky rose hairclip in her hair just above her left ear as the young Vulcan imagined seeing her old lover’s face in the mirror as she recalled her final words: “Please...please...come. I’m scared, honey. Really scared.”

    “Touchdown in five minutes.”

    “It’s about time.” The security officer replied nervously, whispering a vow to her friend as she resumed her position at the pilot’s station, “Don’t worry, Larissa...we’ll get through this together...I promise.”

    Her shuttlecraft landing smoothly, T’Pren waited impatiently as the Starfleet shuttle was taxied into an empty berth. Quickly rising to her feet as she heard the chime indicating that she could now exit the vehicle, T’Pren opened the hatch and stepped down. Her heart raced as she stood, for the first time in years, on her home world. Scanning the starport terminal with her eyes, the young Vulcan immediately recognized the customs facility by the long queue of new arrivals uncomplainingly waiting their turn. Shrugging her shoulders, T’Pren walked towards the line, until, finally reaching it; she took her place at the end. Ignoring the raised eyebrows from other Vulcans at her un-Vulcan hairstyle, makeup, and dress, T’Pren tapped her foot impatiently until she was finally at the head of the line. Glancing down at the middle-aged clerk with a padd in his hand, the Perseus security chief handed him her identification disk.

    “T’Pren.” The customs officer recited in a flat tone, “Vulcan. Lieutenant...Starfleet. Currently assigned USS Perseus. Purpose of visit?”

    Wanting only to pass through as quickly as possible, T’Pren bit back her initial sarcastic reply, settling for a simple, “Leave.”

    “How long do you plan to remain on Vulcan?”

    “I’m not sure.” T’Pren shrugged, drawing yet another blank look from the clerk. “It depends. I’ve got plenty of leave accumulated and my captain doesn’t need me back right away...” she added pointedly, “Now...may I pass?”

    Seeing no logical reason to keep the increasingly emotional v’tosh ka’tur in front of him waiting, the clerk handed the woman’s identification disk back to her. “You may proceed.”

    “Thank you.” The young Vulcan huffed as she deliberately flounced away, ignoring the looks and hushed comments made by the Vulcans she passed by on her way out. Exiting the starport terminal, T’Pren, in a hurry to reunite with Larissa, made a bee-line for the public transporter station. “Valaran Hotel.” She requested as she took her place on the transporter pad, her luggage by her side.

    Materializing moments later in the hotel lobby’s transporter chamber, T’Pren, picking up her suitcase and garment bag, made her way to the lift. Tapping her foot as she waited for the elevator cab to reach the lobby, the young woman was startled by a voice.

    “Excuse me?”

    “Huh?” Looking about and then down, T’Pren spotted a Vulcan child, approximately age six. “Yes?” She replied, flashing a quick smile that drew a look of surprise from the little boy.

    “What are you doing?” He asked, pointing to her still tapping foot.

    “I was just tapping my foot to a song in my head.” The lovely Vulcan replied with a smile.

    “That’s illogical.” The child retorted.

    “Yes.” T’Pren replied, her brilliant white teeth almost literally lighting up the room as her smile grew wider, “It is.”

    “S’Van!” A female voice called out. “Come.”

    “My mother.” The child stated flatly.

    “I gathered.” T’Pren responded as she held out her hand, spreading her fingers in the traditional Vulcan manner, “Live long and prosper, S’Van.”

    “You too.” S’Van responded as he rejoined his mother.

    Ignoring the mother’s disapproving look in her direction as she mouthed “V’tosh Ka’tur” while taking charge of her child, T’Pren took a deep breath as the elevator door opened. Exhaling, the young Vulcan ordered, “Forty-third floor.” Worry and anticipation both mounting as the elevator cab climbed upwards, the lights flashing as the floor numbers flashed. T’Pren felt a churning in her stomach as the cab, finally reaching her floor, came to a stop. Dashing out as soon as the doors opened, the Vulcan security chief walked quickly down the corridor until she finally came to a door numbered, 4314. Pressing the enunciator, T’Pren spoke, “Larissa? It’s me...T’Pren.” Hearing nothing, T’Pren again pressed the enunciator, “Larissa? Open up!” Again, no response from inside. Taking a deep breath, T’Pren quickly sliced into the door’s security lock. Then, as the door slid open, the young Vulcan called out, “Larissa? Where are you?” Catching a whiff of decay, T’Pren’s heart began to race as she stepped into the living area. “Larissa?” She called out again as she moved further into the suite, the smell growing stronger as she drew closer to the bedroom.

    Pausing at the bedroom door, T’Pren paused, her acute sense of smell telling her what her mind and heart still refused to believe. Her hand trembling as it hovered over the access panel, the young Vulcan called out one last time, “Larissa? If you’re in there, please say something!” Receiving only empty silence in response, T’Pren entered in the access code. As the door slid open, the security specialist froze as she saw the decomposing body of her former lover lying on her bed, still in her bathrobe. Doubling over at the horrible sight and smell that confronted her eyes and nostrils, T’Pren, her body taking over, violently heaved the contents of her last meal on the floor.

    Slowly rising to her feet, T’Pren, placing a cloth over her mouth and nostrils, reluctantly made her way to where Larissa lay. Looking down, the security officer immediately saw how her lover was murdered—the lovely Andorian’s blue skull was caved in by what appeared to be a heavy object. Closing her eyes as she said a silent prayer for the dead woman’s soul, T’Pren, her training returning to her, slowly backed out of the bedroom, being very careful not to touch or disturb anything as she left. Tapping a comm panel, she called out, “This is Lieutenant T’Pren. Please send a security officer to suite 4314. There has been a murder.”


    “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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  8. Sgt_G

    Sgt_G Commodore Commodore

    Jul 5, 2013
    Well, that sucks. The events, not the story itself or the writing. Those are great.
    DavidFalkayn likes this.
  9. CeJay

    CeJay Commodore Commodore

    Feb 5, 2006
    This mystery just got deadly serious.
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  10. admiralelm11

    admiralelm11 Commander Red Shirt

    Jan 17, 2009
    Vancouver, WA
    This is when you call your captain and hopes he posts your bail. If not, you’ve got a lot of ‘splaining to do, T’Pren.