I knew something was going to go bad the INSTANT you said Jaffar was happier than he could remember being in a long time...but DAMN!
Star Trek: Supermax (Season Two Redux)
- Thread starter Goliath
- Start date
Wow. That's all I can say for now.
True. Wow, it was good. Poor Jaffar, though (both of them). I really thought that he might catch a break for once. Well, at least he reconciled with his Dad. I guess that's something. I feel sorry for Captain Manning (and Paul, obviously). He seemed like a decent guy.
I'm curious how this story will continue. Is there a planned date for the release, yet?
Whew!
Part Two is about two-thirds written, so you shouldn't have to wait very long at all.
Ok, I'm amazed at this, and I'm glad to say, it was definitely worth the wait.
Let me get this straight. One assumes the smelly mould (I'm British, and I'm spelling it my way!) is responsible for the homicidal rampage currently going on, and a nice young ensign is responsible for some interesting behind the scenes stuff (including the mould? he is in operations after all). The upper echelons at Sundancer seem to be completely ass-upwards and not actually interested in looking after the prisoners, and now Hardcastle has resigned.
Did I get it all?
Let me get this straight. One assumes the smelly mould (I'm British, and I'm spelling it my way!) is responsible for the homicidal rampage currently going on, and a nice young ensign is responsible for some interesting behind the scenes stuff (including the mould? he is in operations after all). The upper echelons at Sundancer seem to be completely ass-upwards and not actually interested in looking after the prisoners, and now Hardcastle has resigned.
Did I get it all?
Well, I'm glad to hear that, because I made you wait much too long.
Hmm. The mould is significant, but not for the reason you mention. Ensign York had no connection with it, and if anything's responsible for the current homicidal rampage, it's people's own natural inclinations.
The significance of the mould will be revealed in due time. Episode 207, IIRC.
Yes.
Cool! and Damn!
Well, I'm glad to hear that, because I made you wait much too long.
Hmm. The mould is significant, but not for the reason you mention. Ensign York had no connection with it, and if anything's responsible for the current homicidal rampage, it's people's own natural inclinations.
The significance of the mould will be revealed in due time. Episode 207, IIRC.
Yes.
At first I wasn't so crazy about you shifting your focus away from our favorite inmate but I'm really digging what you're doing here.
As usual, a lot of intrigue and behind the scenes nastiness going on. This is a long cry from the clean and neat Starfleet we're famliar with. Here Starfleet personnel have extramarital affaris, they swear and drink and oh yeah ... some try to get away with murder.
Hardcastle is my new favorite character in Supermax. I hope you won't write her out of the show (or worse, kill her off). She was totally right not to give Jaffar permission for leave. She does need to keep an eye on her drinking habits, though.
Now she's going to be a principle witness to a homocide? Whatever happens next is sure to shake things up good.
The only thing I didn't buy. You tellin me they're still using email addresses in the 24th century? Who's Supermax's service provider? FOL?
Great story, great to have you back.
As usual, a lot of intrigue and behind the scenes nastiness going on. This is a long cry from the clean and neat Starfleet we're famliar with. Here Starfleet personnel have extramarital affaris, they swear and drink and oh yeah ... some try to get away with murder.
Hardcastle is my new favorite character in Supermax. I hope you won't write her out of the show (or worse, kill her off). She was totally right not to give Jaffar permission for leave. She does need to keep an eye on her drinking habits, though.
Now she's going to be a principle witness to a homocide? Whatever happens next is sure to shake things up good.
The only thing I didn't buy. You tellin me they're still using email addresses in the 24th century? Who's Supermax's service provider? FOL?
Great story, great to have you back.
Well, I'm glad I was able to change your mind.
I admit that wasn't entirely serious. It was inspired by a DS9 challenge story that I started, but never completed, written entirely in emails. I had a great time thinking up email addresses, including:
ds9.sf.ufp
sfcom.sf.ufp
ds9.mil.baj
gov.baj
and--my personal favourite--2ord.mil.car.
But I think it's reasonable to suppose that they use some kind of electronic mail service in the 24th century, even if it's not the one we use today.
Think of it as the fanfic equivalent of the miniskirts and beehive hairdos in TOS.
Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it, and it's good to be back.
Supermax 206: “The Second Circle,” Part II
The hellish hurricane, which never rests,
drives on the spirits with its violence:
wheeling and pounding, it harasses them.
When they come up against the ruined slope,
then there are cries and wailing and lament,
and there they curse the force of the divine.
--Dante Alighieri, Inferno, Canto V (trans. Allen Mandelbaum)
ACT THREE
Commander Hagen had just gone to bed, in her quarters, when the doorbell rang, and rang again.
She propped herself up on her elbows and frowned. “Lights,” she said. The lights came on. Her cat, a long-haired Abyssinian, lay on top of the comforter. It raised its head and stared at her. The doorbell rang a third time.
“Damn it,” she muttered. She pulled the covers aside and got out of bed. The cat scrambled off the bed onto the floor and stood there, looking annoyed. Ignoring it, Hagen picked up her robe off a chair and put it on.
The doorbell, again. “All right, said the Commander. She hurried out into the front room, belting her robe around her waist and calling for more light. Then, when she got to the door, she tapped the door panel. “Who is it?” she said.
“Susan. Susan, it’s me.”
“Captain?” she said, surprised. She pressed another key on the panel, and the door slid open. Captain Manning stood out in the hall.
“Please,” he said. “Let me in.”
“Captain?” she said again. “Of course—come in.”
Manning hurried inside. Hagen stepped out into the hallway, looked both ways, then came back inside, closed the door, and looked at the Captain. He was standing in the middle of the front room, wringing his hands, turning first one way, then the other. The cat was watching him from the bedroom doorway.
“Captain, what’s wrong?”
Manning turned to her. “Susan,” he said. “I…I killed someone.”
“What?”
“I killed him!”
“You…”
“Help me. Help me, please!”
“Captain, sit down.”
Manning looked around, then sat down on the sofa. Hagen walked over to the replicator, ordered a glass of the captain’s favourite whiskey, and brought it back with her. “Here,” she said.
Manning looked back. For a second, he just sat there, looking scared. Then, he reached out with a trembling hand, took the tumbler, and drank the whisky. The cat came out into the living room, still watching the Captain.
Hagen came back around and sat down on the sofa next to Manning. “Now,” she said. “Tell me again. You killed someone?”
“Paul,” said Manning. “I killed Paul.” He sank back, and covered his eyes with his free hand. “Oh, my god. Paul!”
Hagen reached over, put her right hand on Manning’s forearm, took the empty tumbler with her left, and put it on the cocktail table. “When did this happen?”
Manning took his hand away from his eyes. “Tonight,” he said. “In his quarters. We had a fight. I… I hit him. The glass broke. There was blood everywhere.”
“Calm down,” said Hagen. She took Manning’s hand with her left. “Start at the beginning. Tell me everything.”
Manning told her the whole story. When he was done, he looked at Hagen and said: “I’m sorry, Susan. I shouldn’t have come here, but I didn’t know where else to go.”
“It’s all right, Captain,” said Hagen, squeezing his hand. Then: “He was asking for it. If you ask me, he’s been asking for it for a long time.”
“It was an accident! I swear!”
“I believe you.” Hagen thought for a moment. “All right. What do we do now?”
“Now?” said Manning. “I don’t know.” He thought for a moment. “I guess I call Security. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”
“Security,” said Hagen. Then: “Are you sure?”
Manning looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“They’ll send you to prison, Captain. They’ll lock you up with those animals.”
“I know. But, what can I do?”
Hagen let go of the Captain’s hand and arm. She got up, walked over to the replicator, and ordered a cup of coffee. When it was ready, she picked up the cup and saucer, sipped, and considered.
The cat jumped up onto Manning’s lap. He stared at it.
Finally, over the rim of her coffee sup, Hagen said: “Do you want to fight, or do you want to quit?”
Manning looked back at her. The cat purred and rubbed itself against him. “What do you mean?”
“Think, Norman. You’re not the first man who ever got into trouble.” She began to pace. “You’ve been very discreet about Ensign York,” she said. “I don’t think anybody knows about him except you and me. So let’s see what we can work out. Tell me again how it happened.”
“I don’t know.”
“Try, Norman.”
“I just don’t understand. I didn’t plan to. I hit him with my—oh, my god. My carryon. I left it there.”
Hagen thought some more. Then, she said: “All right, Norman. Let me take care of this.”
“How?”
“I’ll go over there and clean things up.”
Manning looked at her, appalled. “You can’t be serious.” The cat curled up in his lap, still purring.
“Stay here until I get back,” said Hagen. She finished her coffee, put down the empty cup, turned, and headed for the bedroom, unbelting her robe.
***
Later, dressed in her uniform, Commander Hagen stepped into Ensign York’s apartment and let the door slide shut behind her. She could hear soft jazz. Kitchen and dining room on the left. Living room ahead. Doorways to the bedroom and washroom on the right.
York’s body was on the living-room floor, face down in a pool of blood.
Hagen took out a pair of surgical gloves and put them on, one by one, stretching them over her hands. Then took out a tricorder and conducted a scan. Satisfied, she put the instrument away and looked around.
There. Captain Manning’s carryon. She picked it up, examined it, and saw that it was streaked with Ensign York’s blood. She took it over to the washroom, opened the door, and stepped inside.
The light came on automatically. Hagen went over to the washstand, ran the hot water, picked up a hand towel, and carefully wiped the blood off the carryon. When she was done, she rinsed the blood out of the sink, turned off the water, opened the suitcase, and stuffed the towel inside.
She looked around the washroom, and frowned. There was dried vomit on the rim of the toilet bowl, and on the floor—there: something else on the floor, beside the toilet. She went over, bent down, and picked it up. It was a piece of jewelry—some kind of hairclip. Cardassian?
Hagen put the hairclip in the carryon. Then she closed it, looked around again, turned off the light, and went back into York’s quarters. The music played on.
She took another look around, being careful to stay away from the blood. Then, satisfied, she set the carryon down, opened it, took off her gloves, and put those inside as well. Then she closed the suitcase and walked over to the door.
It slid open. She peeked out into the corridor, looking both ways. Then she walked away.
The door slid shut behind her.
***
Stardate 56414.7. Today.
Hardcastle woke up, sprawled out on her sofa, fully dressed. Her head ached, and her mouth tasted foul. She was sick to her stomach.
She got up, stumbled over to the washroom, drank a glass of water, and picked up her toothscrubber. Only then did she notice her reflection in the mirror.
Oh, my God,, she thought. I look like a homeless hooker.
She removed one of the clips from her hair. The other was missing. Then, she looked more closely, at the corners of her mouth, and her chin, and the front of her dress.
Is that vomit?
Yes. Yes, it is.
Now that is attractive, she thought bitterly.
She got undressed, and got into the sonic shower. When she got out, she put on a robe, sat back down on the couch, put her elbows on her knees, and her head in her hands.
The door chime rang.
No, she thought. Go away.
The door chime rang again.
“All right,” she said, irritably, raising her head. “Come in.”
Chief Guzman walked in. “Good morning, Captain,” he said.
“Morning,” said Hardcastle. She put her head back in her hands.
The Chief took a closer look at Hardcastle, then walked over to the replicator. “Champurrado,” he said. After a moment, he came back with a cup and saucer, and held them out to Hardcastle. “Here,” he said. “Drink this.”
Hardcastle took the cup and saucer, a bit reluctantly. She blew on the steaming, light-brown liquid and sipped. It was thick, and sweet, like a cross between hot chocolate and porridge, flavoured with cinnamon, vanilla, and brown sugar.
The Chief sat down in her living-room chair. “Must have been some night,” he said.
“I guess,” Hardcastle said. “I don’t remember half of it.” She looked around, on the floor, on the sofa. “Do you see a piece of jewelry anywhere? A Cardassian hair clip?”
Guzman looked around as well. “Nope,” he said, finally.
Shit, Hardcastle thought. “Is there something you need, Chief?”
“Yes, sir,” said Guzman. He settled back in the chair, put his elbows on the chair’s arms, and folded his hands across his midriff. “We’re all waiting to hear the results of your meeting with the Commandant.”
“Oh. Yeah. That. Well,” said Hardcastle. She took another sip. “The results are what you see here.”
Guzman frowned. “I don’t get it,” he said.
Hardcastle sighed. “The Commandant told me that everything was my fault. I told him that if he had no confidence in me, then I was willing to resign. He accepted my resignation, and threw me out of his office.”
“Sir?”
“I resigned my commission, Chief.” Hardcastle put down her cup and saucer, and leaned back on the sofa. She noticed the shopping bag from the antique shop, last night, and picked it up. “Lieutenant Lynn is in command of the Lilienthal now,” she said. “You should probably report back to the ship, and let him know.”
Guzman frowned. “So—what? You threw away your career, then went out to celebrate?”
“Something like that,” Hardcastle muttered. She took the small holo-projector out of the bag. “I sure showed them, huh?” She put the projector onto her coffee table, and activated it.
The light-sculpture of the woman and the angel with the lance appeared. “That was me, last night” said Hardcastle. “Flat on my back, out cold. Do you recognize this?”
“Sure,” said Guzman. “Santa Teresa de Àvila.”
Hardcastle picked up her cup and saucer again. “I’m impressed.”
Guzman shrugged. “I went to Saint Theresa High School,” he said. “There were pictures of her everywhere. So, what are you going to do now?”
“I have no idea,” said Hardcastle. She sipped her champurrado. “I never wanted to be a Starfleet officer. I enlisted to fight in the war.”
“What did you do before you joined up?”
Hardcastle thought about that. “Believe it or not—I was a university student.” She rubbed her eyes. “Was that really six years ago?”
***
The door to the Commandant’s office slid aside. Captain Manning walked into the reception area, followed by Commander Hagen. Yeoman Stroud looked up from her desk and smiled. “Good morning, sir—Commander,”” she said.
“Good morning, Georgette,” said the Captain. “Any messages for me?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Commander Hagen and I are not to be disturbed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Manning and Hagen walked into the inner office. Manning went over to his desk and slumped down into his chair, looking defeated. Hagen went over to the replicator. “Do you want coffee, Norman?” she said.
“No. Yes,” said Manning.
Hagen brought him a mug without comment. As he accepted it, the Captain said: “Do you really think we can find her?”
“I’m sure of it,” said Hagen. She blew on her own coffee and sipped. “We have her at the Starlight, and at Roel’s. That is, if York was telling the truth.”
“He must have been,” said the Captain.
“You’re sure there was nothing familiar about this Avila woman?”
“I told you—she was in the shadowy part of the corridor.”
“But she saw you?”
“I couldn’t help it. I was directly under the light.”
Hagen drank more coffee, thinking. “Maybe she doesn’t know you,” the Commander said, finally.
“I’m the Commandant. Everybody knows me. But she’s the only one who can connect me with Paul.”
“I know that,” said Hagen. “I’ll take care of it, Norman. Don’t worry.”
***
In Hardcastle’s quarters, a combadge twittered. “Sundancer to Hardcastle.”
Hardcastle looked around surprised. “What the—”
“Sundancer to Hardcastle. Come in Hardcastle.”
“Damn it, where’s my—”
“Here,” said Guzman.
“Oh. Thanks, Chief. Hardcastle here. Go ahead, Sundancer.”
“Commander? This is Commander Hagen. Have Chief Guzman transport down to the planet right away. We have a special assignment for him.”
Hardcastle frowned. “Tell him yourself, Commander. I’m done taking orders from you.”
“What?”
“I resigned yesterday afternoon. Didn’t the Captain tell you?”
There was a pause. Then: “Stand by.”
***
In the Commandant’s office, Captain Manning groaned, and put his face in the palm of his hand.
“God damn it, Norman!” said Commander Hagen.
“I forgot all about that,” said the Captain.
Once the Captain was done explaining, Commander Hagen thought quickly. “The last thing we need right now is one of our Unit Supervisors resigning. Especially her,” she said. “We need to convince her to change her mind.” She tapped her combadge again. “Commander Hardcastle?”
“Not anymore.”
“Commander, we need you to reconsider your decision,” said Hagen. She glanced at Manning. “We’ve decided that you were right, after all. We’re going to evacuate the Lilienthal and send it to the Solar system for a baryon sweep, in dry dock.”
There was a brief pause. Then: “I’m sorry, Commander Hagen, but this is not my problem anymore. You should talk to Lieutenant Lynn. He’s in command of the Lilienthal now.”
The Captain sat up. “Let me talk to her,” he said, pressing his combadge. “Commander Hardcastle? This is the Commandant.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“I behaved very badly yesterday, Commander. My second-in-command has convinced me that I made a mistake. I don’t blame you for being angry. Once the ship has been swept and sterilized, I’m going to see that it’s properly refitted. You can have your choice of assignments, here on Sundancer, until it’s ready.”
***
Hardcastle and Guzman looked at each other, surprised. Finally, Hardcastle said: “Well…thank you, Captain. That’s very generous of you. I guess I behaved pretty badly myself.”
“Then you’ll reconsider?”
“I…yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, about Chief Guzman—”
“I have him right here, sir.”
“Excellent. Chief?”
“Yes, sir,” said Guzman.
“Like the Commander said—we need you to report to her office for a special assignment. It’s about the attack on your prisoner, Jaffar. We…think we know who smuggled the psionic amplifier down to Unit Zero. A human—female. Find her and you can prevent anything like that from happening again.”
“Yes, sir,” said Guzman. “What do we know so far?”
“Not much, unfortunately. This woman was seen in the Core yesterday evening, with a man, at the Starlight hotel bar and a restaurant called Roel’s.”
***
Back in the Commandant’s office, there was a moment of silence.
“Chief,” said Captain Manning. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, sir,” said the Chief. “Do you know who the man is?”
“Uh—no,” said the Captain. “We’re not interested in him. We’re after the woman.”
Another pause. Then: “Do you have a name?”
“Yes,” said the Captain. “It’s Teresa Avila.”
“Teresa Avila.”
“Yes—possibly from Aztlan. Why? Do you know her?”
“No, Captain. I’ve never heard of her.”
“Well, beam down here as soon as possible and report to Commander Hagen. Manning out.”
The Captain slumped back in his chair and looked at Commander Hagen. “What do you want him for, anyway?”
“You don’t need to know that, Captain,” said the Commander, grimly. “In fact, the less you know about this part of the investigation, the better.”
Manning shuddered. “God, I need a drink,” he said.
“With all due respect, Captain, that’s the last thing you need, right now.”
“Susan—we have to find this Avila woman before word gets out about Paul’s death. If she runs—or goes to Admiral Golovko’s people, at the starbase. If she tells them she saw me going into Paul’s quarters…”
“I understand, Captain. She won’t.” She finished her coffee, put the cup in the replicator, and pressed the recycle button. The cup vanished in a swirl of light.
***
The hellish hurricane, which never rests,
drives on the spirits with its violence:
wheeling and pounding, it harasses them.
When they come up against the ruined slope,
then there are cries and wailing and lament,
and there they curse the force of the divine.
--Dante Alighieri, Inferno, Canto V (trans. Allen Mandelbaum)
ACT THREE
Commander Hagen had just gone to bed, in her quarters, when the doorbell rang, and rang again.
She propped herself up on her elbows and frowned. “Lights,” she said. The lights came on. Her cat, a long-haired Abyssinian, lay on top of the comforter. It raised its head and stared at her. The doorbell rang a third time.
“Damn it,” she muttered. She pulled the covers aside and got out of bed. The cat scrambled off the bed onto the floor and stood there, looking annoyed. Ignoring it, Hagen picked up her robe off a chair and put it on.
The doorbell, again. “All right, said the Commander. She hurried out into the front room, belting her robe around her waist and calling for more light. Then, when she got to the door, she tapped the door panel. “Who is it?” she said.
“Susan. Susan, it’s me.”
“Captain?” she said, surprised. She pressed another key on the panel, and the door slid open. Captain Manning stood out in the hall.
“Please,” he said. “Let me in.”
“Captain?” she said again. “Of course—come in.”
Manning hurried inside. Hagen stepped out into the hallway, looked both ways, then came back inside, closed the door, and looked at the Captain. He was standing in the middle of the front room, wringing his hands, turning first one way, then the other. The cat was watching him from the bedroom doorway.
“Captain, what’s wrong?”
Manning turned to her. “Susan,” he said. “I…I killed someone.”
“What?”
“I killed him!”
“You…”
“Help me. Help me, please!”
“Captain, sit down.”
Manning looked around, then sat down on the sofa. Hagen walked over to the replicator, ordered a glass of the captain’s favourite whiskey, and brought it back with her. “Here,” she said.
Manning looked back. For a second, he just sat there, looking scared. Then, he reached out with a trembling hand, took the tumbler, and drank the whisky. The cat came out into the living room, still watching the Captain.
Hagen came back around and sat down on the sofa next to Manning. “Now,” she said. “Tell me again. You killed someone?”
“Paul,” said Manning. “I killed Paul.” He sank back, and covered his eyes with his free hand. “Oh, my god. Paul!”
Hagen reached over, put her right hand on Manning’s forearm, took the empty tumbler with her left, and put it on the cocktail table. “When did this happen?”
Manning took his hand away from his eyes. “Tonight,” he said. “In his quarters. We had a fight. I… I hit him. The glass broke. There was blood everywhere.”
“Calm down,” said Hagen. She took Manning’s hand with her left. “Start at the beginning. Tell me everything.”
Manning told her the whole story. When he was done, he looked at Hagen and said: “I’m sorry, Susan. I shouldn’t have come here, but I didn’t know where else to go.”
“It’s all right, Captain,” said Hagen, squeezing his hand. Then: “He was asking for it. If you ask me, he’s been asking for it for a long time.”
“It was an accident! I swear!”
“I believe you.” Hagen thought for a moment. “All right. What do we do now?”
“Now?” said Manning. “I don’t know.” He thought for a moment. “I guess I call Security. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”
“Security,” said Hagen. Then: “Are you sure?”
Manning looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“They’ll send you to prison, Captain. They’ll lock you up with those animals.”
“I know. But, what can I do?”
Hagen let go of the Captain’s hand and arm. She got up, walked over to the replicator, and ordered a cup of coffee. When it was ready, she picked up the cup and saucer, sipped, and considered.
The cat jumped up onto Manning’s lap. He stared at it.
Finally, over the rim of her coffee sup, Hagen said: “Do you want to fight, or do you want to quit?”
Manning looked back at her. The cat purred and rubbed itself against him. “What do you mean?”
“Think, Norman. You’re not the first man who ever got into trouble.” She began to pace. “You’ve been very discreet about Ensign York,” she said. “I don’t think anybody knows about him except you and me. So let’s see what we can work out. Tell me again how it happened.”
“I don’t know.”
“Try, Norman.”
“I just don’t understand. I didn’t plan to. I hit him with my—oh, my god. My carryon. I left it there.”
Hagen thought some more. Then, she said: “All right, Norman. Let me take care of this.”
“How?”
“I’ll go over there and clean things up.”
Manning looked at her, appalled. “You can’t be serious.” The cat curled up in his lap, still purring.
“Stay here until I get back,” said Hagen. She finished her coffee, put down the empty cup, turned, and headed for the bedroom, unbelting her robe.
***
Later, dressed in her uniform, Commander Hagen stepped into Ensign York’s apartment and let the door slide shut behind her. She could hear soft jazz. Kitchen and dining room on the left. Living room ahead. Doorways to the bedroom and washroom on the right.
York’s body was on the living-room floor, face down in a pool of blood.
Hagen took out a pair of surgical gloves and put them on, one by one, stretching them over her hands. Then took out a tricorder and conducted a scan. Satisfied, she put the instrument away and looked around.
There. Captain Manning’s carryon. She picked it up, examined it, and saw that it was streaked with Ensign York’s blood. She took it over to the washroom, opened the door, and stepped inside.
The light came on automatically. Hagen went over to the washstand, ran the hot water, picked up a hand towel, and carefully wiped the blood off the carryon. When she was done, she rinsed the blood out of the sink, turned off the water, opened the suitcase, and stuffed the towel inside.
She looked around the washroom, and frowned. There was dried vomit on the rim of the toilet bowl, and on the floor—there: something else on the floor, beside the toilet. She went over, bent down, and picked it up. It was a piece of jewelry—some kind of hairclip. Cardassian?
Hagen put the hairclip in the carryon. Then she closed it, looked around again, turned off the light, and went back into York’s quarters. The music played on.
She took another look around, being careful to stay away from the blood. Then, satisfied, she set the carryon down, opened it, took off her gloves, and put those inside as well. Then she closed the suitcase and walked over to the door.
It slid open. She peeked out into the corridor, looking both ways. Then she walked away.
The door slid shut behind her.
***
Stardate 56414.7. Today.
Hardcastle woke up, sprawled out on her sofa, fully dressed. Her head ached, and her mouth tasted foul. She was sick to her stomach.
She got up, stumbled over to the washroom, drank a glass of water, and picked up her toothscrubber. Only then did she notice her reflection in the mirror.
Oh, my God,, she thought. I look like a homeless hooker.
She removed one of the clips from her hair. The other was missing. Then, she looked more closely, at the corners of her mouth, and her chin, and the front of her dress.
Is that vomit?
Yes. Yes, it is.
Now that is attractive, she thought bitterly.
She got undressed, and got into the sonic shower. When she got out, she put on a robe, sat back down on the couch, put her elbows on her knees, and her head in her hands.
The door chime rang.
No, she thought. Go away.
The door chime rang again.
“All right,” she said, irritably, raising her head. “Come in.”
Chief Guzman walked in. “Good morning, Captain,” he said.
“Morning,” said Hardcastle. She put her head back in her hands.
The Chief took a closer look at Hardcastle, then walked over to the replicator. “Champurrado,” he said. After a moment, he came back with a cup and saucer, and held them out to Hardcastle. “Here,” he said. “Drink this.”
Hardcastle took the cup and saucer, a bit reluctantly. She blew on the steaming, light-brown liquid and sipped. It was thick, and sweet, like a cross between hot chocolate and porridge, flavoured with cinnamon, vanilla, and brown sugar.
The Chief sat down in her living-room chair. “Must have been some night,” he said.
“I guess,” Hardcastle said. “I don’t remember half of it.” She looked around, on the floor, on the sofa. “Do you see a piece of jewelry anywhere? A Cardassian hair clip?”
Guzman looked around as well. “Nope,” he said, finally.
Shit, Hardcastle thought. “Is there something you need, Chief?”
“Yes, sir,” said Guzman. He settled back in the chair, put his elbows on the chair’s arms, and folded his hands across his midriff. “We’re all waiting to hear the results of your meeting with the Commandant.”
“Oh. Yeah. That. Well,” said Hardcastle. She took another sip. “The results are what you see here.”
Guzman frowned. “I don’t get it,” he said.
Hardcastle sighed. “The Commandant told me that everything was my fault. I told him that if he had no confidence in me, then I was willing to resign. He accepted my resignation, and threw me out of his office.”
“Sir?”
“I resigned my commission, Chief.” Hardcastle put down her cup and saucer, and leaned back on the sofa. She noticed the shopping bag from the antique shop, last night, and picked it up. “Lieutenant Lynn is in command of the Lilienthal now,” she said. “You should probably report back to the ship, and let him know.”
Guzman frowned. “So—what? You threw away your career, then went out to celebrate?”
“Something like that,” Hardcastle muttered. She took the small holo-projector out of the bag. “I sure showed them, huh?” She put the projector onto her coffee table, and activated it.
The light-sculpture of the woman and the angel with the lance appeared. “That was me, last night” said Hardcastle. “Flat on my back, out cold. Do you recognize this?”
“Sure,” said Guzman. “Santa Teresa de Àvila.”
Hardcastle picked up her cup and saucer again. “I’m impressed.”
Guzman shrugged. “I went to Saint Theresa High School,” he said. “There were pictures of her everywhere. So, what are you going to do now?”
“I have no idea,” said Hardcastle. She sipped her champurrado. “I never wanted to be a Starfleet officer. I enlisted to fight in the war.”
“What did you do before you joined up?”
Hardcastle thought about that. “Believe it or not—I was a university student.” She rubbed her eyes. “Was that really six years ago?”
***
The door to the Commandant’s office slid aside. Captain Manning walked into the reception area, followed by Commander Hagen. Yeoman Stroud looked up from her desk and smiled. “Good morning, sir—Commander,”” she said.
“Good morning, Georgette,” said the Captain. “Any messages for me?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Commander Hagen and I are not to be disturbed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Manning and Hagen walked into the inner office. Manning went over to his desk and slumped down into his chair, looking defeated. Hagen went over to the replicator. “Do you want coffee, Norman?” she said.
“No. Yes,” said Manning.
Hagen brought him a mug without comment. As he accepted it, the Captain said: “Do you really think we can find her?”
“I’m sure of it,” said Hagen. She blew on her own coffee and sipped. “We have her at the Starlight, and at Roel’s. That is, if York was telling the truth.”
“He must have been,” said the Captain.
“You’re sure there was nothing familiar about this Avila woman?”
“I told you—she was in the shadowy part of the corridor.”
“But she saw you?”
“I couldn’t help it. I was directly under the light.”
Hagen drank more coffee, thinking. “Maybe she doesn’t know you,” the Commander said, finally.
“I’m the Commandant. Everybody knows me. But she’s the only one who can connect me with Paul.”
“I know that,” said Hagen. “I’ll take care of it, Norman. Don’t worry.”
***
In Hardcastle’s quarters, a combadge twittered. “Sundancer to Hardcastle.”
Hardcastle looked around surprised. “What the—”
“Sundancer to Hardcastle. Come in Hardcastle.”
“Damn it, where’s my—”
“Here,” said Guzman.
“Oh. Thanks, Chief. Hardcastle here. Go ahead, Sundancer.”
“Commander? This is Commander Hagen. Have Chief Guzman transport down to the planet right away. We have a special assignment for him.”
Hardcastle frowned. “Tell him yourself, Commander. I’m done taking orders from you.”
“What?”
“I resigned yesterday afternoon. Didn’t the Captain tell you?”
There was a pause. Then: “Stand by.”
***
In the Commandant’s office, Captain Manning groaned, and put his face in the palm of his hand.
“God damn it, Norman!” said Commander Hagen.
“I forgot all about that,” said the Captain.
Once the Captain was done explaining, Commander Hagen thought quickly. “The last thing we need right now is one of our Unit Supervisors resigning. Especially her,” she said. “We need to convince her to change her mind.” She tapped her combadge again. “Commander Hardcastle?”
“Not anymore.”
“Commander, we need you to reconsider your decision,” said Hagen. She glanced at Manning. “We’ve decided that you were right, after all. We’re going to evacuate the Lilienthal and send it to the Solar system for a baryon sweep, in dry dock.”
There was a brief pause. Then: “I’m sorry, Commander Hagen, but this is not my problem anymore. You should talk to Lieutenant Lynn. He’s in command of the Lilienthal now.”
The Captain sat up. “Let me talk to her,” he said, pressing his combadge. “Commander Hardcastle? This is the Commandant.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“I behaved very badly yesterday, Commander. My second-in-command has convinced me that I made a mistake. I don’t blame you for being angry. Once the ship has been swept and sterilized, I’m going to see that it’s properly refitted. You can have your choice of assignments, here on Sundancer, until it’s ready.”
***
Hardcastle and Guzman looked at each other, surprised. Finally, Hardcastle said: “Well…thank you, Captain. That’s very generous of you. I guess I behaved pretty badly myself.”
“Then you’ll reconsider?”
“I…yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, about Chief Guzman—”
“I have him right here, sir.”
“Excellent. Chief?”
“Yes, sir,” said Guzman.
“Like the Commander said—we need you to report to her office for a special assignment. It’s about the attack on your prisoner, Jaffar. We…think we know who smuggled the psionic amplifier down to Unit Zero. A human—female. Find her and you can prevent anything like that from happening again.”
“Yes, sir,” said Guzman. “What do we know so far?”
“Not much, unfortunately. This woman was seen in the Core yesterday evening, with a man, at the Starlight hotel bar and a restaurant called Roel’s.”
***
Back in the Commandant’s office, there was a moment of silence.
“Chief,” said Captain Manning. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, sir,” said the Chief. “Do you know who the man is?”
“Uh—no,” said the Captain. “We’re not interested in him. We’re after the woman.”
Another pause. Then: “Do you have a name?”
“Yes,” said the Captain. “It’s Teresa Avila.”
“Teresa Avila.”
“Yes—possibly from Aztlan. Why? Do you know her?”
“No, Captain. I’ve never heard of her.”
“Well, beam down here as soon as possible and report to Commander Hagen. Manning out.”
The Captain slumped back in his chair and looked at Commander Hagen. “What do you want him for, anyway?”
“You don’t need to know that, Captain,” said the Commander, grimly. “In fact, the less you know about this part of the investigation, the better.”
Manning shuddered. “God, I need a drink,” he said.
“With all due respect, Captain, that’s the last thing you need, right now.”
“Susan—we have to find this Avila woman before word gets out about Paul’s death. If she runs—or goes to Admiral Golovko’s people, at the starbase. If she tells them she saw me going into Paul’s quarters…”
“I understand, Captain. She won’t.” She finished her coffee, put the cup in the replicator, and pressed the recycle button. The cup vanished in a swirl of light.
***
In her quarters, Hardcastle stared at Guzman, her mouth open. Finally, she said: “I was at the Starlight Hotel last night, with my date. And at Roel’s, I think.”
“You think?”
“I don’t remember that part very well. I had a lot to drink, Chief.” She thought, hard. “I remember buying this at an antique shop,” she said, pointing to the holo-sculpture. “Then… I don’t know. I must have passed out, at some point. He woke me up, at his place, and told me to get out. He…”
“What was your date’s name?”
“York. Ensign York. Paul York.” Then: “Oh, my God—it was Captain Manning.”
“What about him?”
“That’s why I had to leave. Captain Manning was coming. I saw him, in the corridor, outside York’s quarters, when I left.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Chief, what’s going on? Are they after me?”
“I don’t know. You better get up to the ship, Captain. I’ll contact you as soon as I know more.”
***
Commander Hagen entered her office, walked over to the replicator and said “Coffee, black.” She was bringing the cup back to her desk when the doorbell chimed.
“Come,” she said, sitting down.
The door opened, and the Chief walked in. “Chief Petty Officer Guzman reporting as ordered, sir,” he said, standing at ease.
“Chief,” said the Commander. “We are temporarily reassigning you from the USS Lilienthal to the Commandant’s office.”
“Sir?”
“You’ll take orders only from Captain Manning, and me. You’ll report only to Captain Manning, and me. You’ll discuss this only with Captain Manning, and me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“A Starfleet officer was murdered last night, Chief. His name was Ensign York. Did you know him?”
“No, sir.”
“York was murdered in his quarters, in the residential area. I want you to get down there, and have his remains transported to the morgue. Then secure the scene. Use this emergency authorization code: X-ray delta five-two. Have you got that?”
“X-ray, delta five-two. Yes, sir.”
“Report to the Briefing Room down the hall when you’re done. Dismissed.”
“Sir…”
“What is it, Chief?”
“How is this connected to the telepathic attack on Jaffar?”
“You remember the woman I mentioned? Avila?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She was with Ensign York, last night. At the Starlight Hotel, and at Roel’s. In fact, York may have been her accomplice. If so, then they must have had a falling out, because Avila is our chief suspect in York’s murder.”
Guzman blinked. “I see,” he said finally.
“Was there anything else, Chief?”
“No, sir.”
“Then you’re dismissed.”
***
The door to the turbolift opened, and Hardcastle stepped out onto the bridge of USS Lilienthal. The shift supervisor stood up, out of the command chair. “Welcome back, Captain,” he said.
Hardcastle took a quick look around. The bridge of the Oberth-class scout ship had been modified to serve as a prison control centre. Correctional officers were seated at banks of monitor screens, watching various parts of the ship. Everything looked normal.
Finally, she turned back to the shift supervisor. “Report,” she said.
The officer handed over a padd, and delivered a brief verbal report. Everything was quiet. Chief Engineer Lynn was replacing the air filters and flushing the life support system. The rest of the support staff were scanning the ship for mold colonies and eradicating them with phasers.
Finally, Hardcastle said: “All right. Thank you. Carry on. If you need me, I’ll be in my office.”
“Yes, sir,” said the shift supervisor. But as Hardcastle turned to leave, the CO spoke up again: “Uh, sir…”
Hardcastle stopped. “Yes.”
“About this mold problem, sir. We were wondering—is there any danger?”
Hardcastle hesitated briefly. Then, she said: “It doesn’t look that way, but we can’t say for sure at this point. Doctor Zhang is investigating. I’m going to schedule medical exams for all crew members as soon as possible. Until then, we’ll just have to carry on”
“Yes, sir.”
Hardcastle walked over to her office. The door opened, then shut behind her as she went over to her desk and sat down. She started to read the shift supervisor’s written report, but soon found she couldn’t concentrate. Finally, she set it aside and tapped her combadge.
“Hardcastle to Ensign York,” she said in a low voice.
There was no answer. “Hardcastle to Ensign York,” she repeated.
***
Down on the planet, in the staff residence, Chief Guzman was standing in the corridor outside Ensign York’s quarters.
“Computer,” he said. “Unlock this door. Authorization X-ray delta five-two.”
The door slid open. Guzman saw the body at once—on the floor, in the living-room, face-down on the bloodstained carpet.
He stepped inside, let the door close behind him, took out a tricorder, and scanned the room. No life signs.
Guzman put the tricorder away. For a moment, he just stood there, studying the room, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He could hear soft music. Finally, he decided that the best course of action was to follow orders and get the hell out of the dead ensign’s quarters.
“Computer,” he said. “Page Ensign Paul York.”
There was an electronic chirp. There—on the dining table. A Starfleet combadge. So far, so good.
Guzman reached into the holster on his belt, took out his isolinear dart gun, took aim at body, and fired. Once the body was tagged, the Chief put the gun back in its holster and tapped his own combadge. “Chief Guzman to Transporter Room.”
“Transporter Room here. Go ahead, Chief.”
“Transporter Room,” the Chief said. “Code black.”
“Code black, understood.”
“Lock onto my transporter dart and beam the body directly to the morgue.”
“Understood.”
“Guzman out.”
The body disappeared in a swirl of light, leaving only blood and broken glass behind.
Guzman took a last look around, shook his head, and was heading for the door when he heard the dead man’s combadge once again. “Hardcastle to Ensign York,” it said, in Lieutenant-Commander Hardcastle’s voice.
What the hell? he thought.
***
“Hardcastle to Ensign York. Hardcastle to—”
“Captain?”
At her desk, in her office, on the bridge of the Lilienthal, Hardcastle started.
“Who is this?” she said.
“Chief Guzman, sir.”
“Chief?” said Hardcastle. “Chief, I’m trying to contact my date from last night. Are you with him?”
A brief pause. Then: “No, sir.”
“Chief, what’s going on?”
“Sorry, sir. But I can’t talk about it. Commander Hagen’s orders.”
“Commander Hagen?”
“I’d stop trying to contact Ensign York if I were you, sir. Guzman out.”
ACT FOUR
Fifteen minutes later, after sealing the door to Ensign York’s quarters, Guzman walked into the Briefing Room in A-Block. Commander Hagen stood in the centre of a circle of Starfleet Security officers, all of them holding computer padds. She glanced over at the door.
“Chief,” she said. “Is everything taken care of?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” The Commander turned back to the assembled personnel. “All right, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get started. First, I want you to know—I appreciate this. The Commandant appreciates this. This kind of duty isn’t exactly in your job description.”
The officers looked at each other. “If we’re here, it’s our job, Commander,” said one—Lieutenant DiDonato.
Kiss-ass, the Chief thought.
Hagen smiled briefly. “That’s the spirit,” she said. “Let’s get started.”
The Commander tapped the display on her pad. Text and images began to appear on the Briefing Room screen. “The suspect’s name,” she said, “is Teresa Avila.”
“Avila,” said another officer—Lieutenant Cristobal. “She an Aztlana?”
“We don’t know. Besides, it may be an alias.”
“What makes you think that?”
“There’s no record of anyone by that name at any installation in this star system. Not here, and not at Starbase Eight. We even checked with the SMRC.”
“This isn’t much to go on,” said a third officer, frowning at her padd. “A man and a woman having dinner and drinks?”
“It’s not that bad,” said Hagen. “We have a general description of the woman, and the names of two night spots.”
“We’ve worked with less before, Commander,” said Walker. There were nods and murmurs of agreement.
The Chief spoke up. “Can we ask where you got this information?”
Hagen looked over at him, frowning slightly. “A confidential source. I can’t say any more than that at this time.”
The Chief looked back, his face expressionless. “Why not alert Starbase Eight, and bring in some trained investigators?”
Hagen’s frown deepened. “We can’t do that, Chief. Too much has been going wrong around here, lately.” She turned back to the assembled officers. “We need to show Starfleet Command that the situation here on Sundancer is under control. When we arrest this woman, I don’t want to have to share the credit with anyone.”
“Now,” she continued, “let’s go over your assignments. DiDonato. Morton. You check the Starlight Hotel.”
“Sir.”
“We’ll send you more information when we have it. Cristobal. You take the restaurant—Roel’s.”
“Yes, sir.
“Popkin. Walker. You canvass the rest of the Core. Try to find anyone who saw them between the hotel and the restaurant.”
“That’s a lot of territory, Commander,” said Walker.
“We’ll send someone to help you. Bennett, Israel—you’ll be the research division. Check every available database on every other world in this sector—see if you can come up with someone who fits this name and description.”
“Commander?”
“Yes.”
It was Lieutenant Walker again. “Should we ask about this woman’s companion?”
“Yes, of course. But don’t forget—it’s the woman we want, and only the woman. Allison—I want you to set up a communication center here. We’ll use the screen as a virtual whiteboard—Kislav, you’re in charge of that. The rest of you, remember—be discreet. The Commandant wants this kept in-house. Let’s all show the brass that we can handle something like this ourselves. Understood?”
There was a chorus of “yes, sirs.” Hardcastle said: “All right then. Report in as soon as you find out anything. Allison will be on the communicator. Dismissed.”
The officers filed out. When they were gone, Guzman said: “What about me, sir?”
“Stay here, and keep yourself informed.” Hagen looked at the remaining officers. “I’ll be checking in periodically. Let me know as soon as you find out anything important.”
Kislav and Allison said: “Yes, sir.” Hagen nodded, and left the room.
When she was gone, Guzman said, “I’m going for coffee. Anybody else want some?”
The two officers paused, glanced at each other. Finally, Lieutenant Kislav said: “Sure, Chief. Thanks.”
“De nada,” said Guzman. Then he smiled. “If I’m here, it’s my job, right?”
Kislav and Allison chuckled. “Right.”
“Back in a minute,” said Guzman. Then he left the Briefing Room.
***
Up on the Lilienthal, Commander Hardcastle’s combadge twittered. “Sundancer to Hardcastle.”
“Hardcastle here.”
“Captain, it’s me.”
“Chief?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. What…”
“Just listen. I’ve only got a few minutes.”
***
“Federation starship Ulugh Beg to unidentified vessel. You are entering a restricted system. Identify yourself.”
On the edge of the star system, in the cockpit of a Danube-class runabout, Kalila pressed a button on her control panel. “Ulugh Beg, this is Federation runabout Liffey, out of Arcturus IV.”
“Stand by.” A pause. “Identity confirmed. Stand by to be scanned.”
“Standing by,” said Kalila.
***
“Oh, my God,” said Hardcastle, in her office on the Lilienthal. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure,” said the Chief, over the com. “But it looked like somebody stabbed him in the throat, and let him bleed out on the floor.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Captain…are you sure it was Captain Manning you saw last night? Outside York’s apartment?”
“I’m positive. Chief—you don’t think—”
“Well, who else?”
“But…why?”
“I don’t know, Captain. But I’m going to try to find out. In the meantime…I suggest you stay up on the ship, out of sight. And don’t try to contact me. I’ll contact you. Guzman out.”
***
Kalila’s husband pointed to port. “There she is,” he said.
Kalila looked out the portside window. A Miranda-class cruiser was approaching. It signalled again: “Scan complete. State your business, Liffey.”
Kalila said: “Ulugh Beg, we are proceeding to the Sundancer Penal Colony.”
“Stand by, Liffey.” Another pause. Then: “Confirmed. You are clear to proceed to Sundancer. Ulugh Beg out.” The starship banked to starboard and soared away, crossing the runabout’s wake.
“Thank you,” said Kalila. “Liffey out.” She logged the encounter with the patrol ship.
Her husband looked over at her, from the co-pilot’s chair. Finally, she glanced over, and noticed. “What?” she said.
“I was just wondering,” he said. “How do you feel about all this?”
“Funny,” she said. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“I asked you first.”
“All right,” said Kalila. She took a deep breath, began to talk, stopped, then began again. “I feel….angry, with Dawud. This is just so like him.”
“You don’t talk about him much.”
“The last time I was here was more than a year ago. I had to wait three days to see him, because they’d put him in isolation, after he killed another prisoner in a knife fight. Then, when I finally got to see him, he tried to divorce me, by pronouncing talaaq, because he was afraid someone might try to kill me, to get back at him.”
“Finally, after I left, he got into another fight, in which another inmate was killed. He told me later that I didn’t have to worry, that he’d fixed things, with his enemies, and that my life wasn’t in danger any more. He also told me that he’d helped two other convicts escape, in exchange for their help.”
“Bismillah!”
“The drama just never ends, with Dawud. So I feel…resentful at the way he’s intruded on our time together.” She sighed, deeply. “And then I remember that his father has just been murdered. And I think about his poor mother, stuck on that horrible planet, waiting for someone to come take her home. And I feel guilty for being so selfish.”
Her husband nodded. She looked over at him. “How do you feel about all this?”
He shrugged. “I’m fine,” he said.
Kalila’s mouth fell open. “Faisal!” she said.
“What?” he said, innocently.
“Faisal! Be serious!”
“All right, all right,” he said, smiling. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. But, honestly—I understand. We’re doing the right thing.” He reached out and took her hand. “We’ll just have to take a second honeymoon, some other time. What a shame that will be.”
“You’re really okay with this?”
He kissed her hand. “I’m really okay with this.”
***
“Walker to Briefing Room.”
“Briefing Room here. Go ahead.”
“Allison? Walker here. I’ve got a lead—a witness who says she saw a couple like ours near the restaurant—about, uh, 1930. The woman was carrying a shopping bag.”
***
In A-Block, on Sundancer, Commander Hagen walked into the briefing room.
“Understood,” said Lieutenant Allison. “What about a description? Uh-huh,” said Allison. “Uh-huh. All right—keep checking. Briefing Room out. Commander!”
“Yes?” said Hagen.
“Lieutenant Walker just reported in. He says a witness noticed our couple outside Roel’s restaurant last night, around 1930 hours. She says the woman was carrying a shopping bag. She couldn’t tell us much more about the woman, but said the man was blonde, blue-eyed, good-looking.”
Hagen considered. “What kind of shopping bag?” she said, finally.
“Sir?”
“Was there anything distinctive about the woman’s bag? If there was, we might be able to find out where she’d been shopping
The two looked at each other. “Yes, sir,” said Lieutenant Allison. He turned back to the communications panel and opened a channel. “Allison to Walker.”
Chief Guzman stood nearby, with one hand on his utility belt, and a cup of coffee in the other, his craggy features impassive.
***
Louise Patterson, the owner of the antique shop, looked up as the two Starfleet Security officers came in. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” said one. “I’m afraid we’re here on official business. Can we see one of your shopping bags?”
***
“Briefing Room to Commander Hagen.”
At her desk, in her office, Hagen looked up from the recycling-efficiency report she was reading. “Go ahead, Briefing Room,” she said.
“Sir, I’m patching you through to Morton. He’s got something.”
“Understood.”
“Commander Hagen?”
“Go ahead, Morton.”
“Sir, we’re here at the Starlight, talking to the staff. They remember our couple, from last night. The bartender who served them hasn’t come in yet. But the coat check girl remembered something about the woman. Said she was wearing some very unusual jewelry—clips in her hair. Alien, she says.”
Alien, thought Hagen. “Anything else?” she said.
“No, sir.”
“All right. Stay there until the bartender comes in.”
“Yes, sir. Morton out.”
Hagen set aside the padd she’d been reading, and opened a desk drawer: then, careful to hold it by its edges, she took out the hairclip she’d found on the floor of York’s washroom. She looked at it for moment, then took out a tricorder and scanned it.
“Computer,” she said. “Identify this piece of jewelry.”
“A Cardassian woman’s hair clip,” the Computer said.
“Are there fingerprints or DNA traces on this item?”
“No fingerprints or DNA traces,” the Computer said.
“Search the visual security logs for images of this item.”
“No matches.”
Damn it, she thought.
Still, it was better than nothing.
***
“You think?”
“I don’t remember that part very well. I had a lot to drink, Chief.” She thought, hard. “I remember buying this at an antique shop,” she said, pointing to the holo-sculpture. “Then… I don’t know. I must have passed out, at some point. He woke me up, at his place, and told me to get out. He…”
“What was your date’s name?”
“York. Ensign York. Paul York.” Then: “Oh, my God—it was Captain Manning.”
“What about him?”
“That’s why I had to leave. Captain Manning was coming. I saw him, in the corridor, outside York’s quarters, when I left.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Chief, what’s going on? Are they after me?”
“I don’t know. You better get up to the ship, Captain. I’ll contact you as soon as I know more.”
***
Commander Hagen entered her office, walked over to the replicator and said “Coffee, black.” She was bringing the cup back to her desk when the doorbell chimed.
“Come,” she said, sitting down.
The door opened, and the Chief walked in. “Chief Petty Officer Guzman reporting as ordered, sir,” he said, standing at ease.
“Chief,” said the Commander. “We are temporarily reassigning you from the USS Lilienthal to the Commandant’s office.”
“Sir?”
“You’ll take orders only from Captain Manning, and me. You’ll report only to Captain Manning, and me. You’ll discuss this only with Captain Manning, and me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“A Starfleet officer was murdered last night, Chief. His name was Ensign York. Did you know him?”
“No, sir.”
“York was murdered in his quarters, in the residential area. I want you to get down there, and have his remains transported to the morgue. Then secure the scene. Use this emergency authorization code: X-ray delta five-two. Have you got that?”
“X-ray, delta five-two. Yes, sir.”
“Report to the Briefing Room down the hall when you’re done. Dismissed.”
“Sir…”
“What is it, Chief?”
“How is this connected to the telepathic attack on Jaffar?”
“You remember the woman I mentioned? Avila?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She was with Ensign York, last night. At the Starlight Hotel, and at Roel’s. In fact, York may have been her accomplice. If so, then they must have had a falling out, because Avila is our chief suspect in York’s murder.”
Guzman blinked. “I see,” he said finally.
“Was there anything else, Chief?”
“No, sir.”
“Then you’re dismissed.”
***
The door to the turbolift opened, and Hardcastle stepped out onto the bridge of USS Lilienthal. The shift supervisor stood up, out of the command chair. “Welcome back, Captain,” he said.
Hardcastle took a quick look around. The bridge of the Oberth-class scout ship had been modified to serve as a prison control centre. Correctional officers were seated at banks of monitor screens, watching various parts of the ship. Everything looked normal.
Finally, she turned back to the shift supervisor. “Report,” she said.
The officer handed over a padd, and delivered a brief verbal report. Everything was quiet. Chief Engineer Lynn was replacing the air filters and flushing the life support system. The rest of the support staff were scanning the ship for mold colonies and eradicating them with phasers.
Finally, Hardcastle said: “All right. Thank you. Carry on. If you need me, I’ll be in my office.”
“Yes, sir,” said the shift supervisor. But as Hardcastle turned to leave, the CO spoke up again: “Uh, sir…”
Hardcastle stopped. “Yes.”
“About this mold problem, sir. We were wondering—is there any danger?”
Hardcastle hesitated briefly. Then, she said: “It doesn’t look that way, but we can’t say for sure at this point. Doctor Zhang is investigating. I’m going to schedule medical exams for all crew members as soon as possible. Until then, we’ll just have to carry on”
“Yes, sir.”
Hardcastle walked over to her office. The door opened, then shut behind her as she went over to her desk and sat down. She started to read the shift supervisor’s written report, but soon found she couldn’t concentrate. Finally, she set it aside and tapped her combadge.
“Hardcastle to Ensign York,” she said in a low voice.
There was no answer. “Hardcastle to Ensign York,” she repeated.
***
Down on the planet, in the staff residence, Chief Guzman was standing in the corridor outside Ensign York’s quarters.
“Computer,” he said. “Unlock this door. Authorization X-ray delta five-two.”
The door slid open. Guzman saw the body at once—on the floor, in the living-room, face-down on the bloodstained carpet.
He stepped inside, let the door close behind him, took out a tricorder, and scanned the room. No life signs.
Guzman put the tricorder away. For a moment, he just stood there, studying the room, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He could hear soft music. Finally, he decided that the best course of action was to follow orders and get the hell out of the dead ensign’s quarters.
“Computer,” he said. “Page Ensign Paul York.”
There was an electronic chirp. There—on the dining table. A Starfleet combadge. So far, so good.
Guzman reached into the holster on his belt, took out his isolinear dart gun, took aim at body, and fired. Once the body was tagged, the Chief put the gun back in its holster and tapped his own combadge. “Chief Guzman to Transporter Room.”
“Transporter Room here. Go ahead, Chief.”
“Transporter Room,” the Chief said. “Code black.”
“Code black, understood.”
“Lock onto my transporter dart and beam the body directly to the morgue.”
“Understood.”
“Guzman out.”
The body disappeared in a swirl of light, leaving only blood and broken glass behind.
Guzman took a last look around, shook his head, and was heading for the door when he heard the dead man’s combadge once again. “Hardcastle to Ensign York,” it said, in Lieutenant-Commander Hardcastle’s voice.
What the hell? he thought.
***
“Hardcastle to Ensign York. Hardcastle to—”
“Captain?”
At her desk, in her office, on the bridge of the Lilienthal, Hardcastle started.
“Who is this?” she said.
“Chief Guzman, sir.”
“Chief?” said Hardcastle. “Chief, I’m trying to contact my date from last night. Are you with him?”
A brief pause. Then: “No, sir.”
“Chief, what’s going on?”
“Sorry, sir. But I can’t talk about it. Commander Hagen’s orders.”
“Commander Hagen?”
“I’d stop trying to contact Ensign York if I were you, sir. Guzman out.”
ACT FOUR
Fifteen minutes later, after sealing the door to Ensign York’s quarters, Guzman walked into the Briefing Room in A-Block. Commander Hagen stood in the centre of a circle of Starfleet Security officers, all of them holding computer padds. She glanced over at the door.
“Chief,” she said. “Is everything taken care of?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” The Commander turned back to the assembled personnel. “All right, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get started. First, I want you to know—I appreciate this. The Commandant appreciates this. This kind of duty isn’t exactly in your job description.”
The officers looked at each other. “If we’re here, it’s our job, Commander,” said one—Lieutenant DiDonato.
Kiss-ass, the Chief thought.
Hagen smiled briefly. “That’s the spirit,” she said. “Let’s get started.”
The Commander tapped the display on her pad. Text and images began to appear on the Briefing Room screen. “The suspect’s name,” she said, “is Teresa Avila.”
“Avila,” said another officer—Lieutenant Cristobal. “She an Aztlana?”
“We don’t know. Besides, it may be an alias.”
“What makes you think that?”
“There’s no record of anyone by that name at any installation in this star system. Not here, and not at Starbase Eight. We even checked with the SMRC.”
“This isn’t much to go on,” said a third officer, frowning at her padd. “A man and a woman having dinner and drinks?”
“It’s not that bad,” said Hagen. “We have a general description of the woman, and the names of two night spots.”
“We’ve worked with less before, Commander,” said Walker. There were nods and murmurs of agreement.
The Chief spoke up. “Can we ask where you got this information?”
Hagen looked over at him, frowning slightly. “A confidential source. I can’t say any more than that at this time.”
The Chief looked back, his face expressionless. “Why not alert Starbase Eight, and bring in some trained investigators?”
Hagen’s frown deepened. “We can’t do that, Chief. Too much has been going wrong around here, lately.” She turned back to the assembled officers. “We need to show Starfleet Command that the situation here on Sundancer is under control. When we arrest this woman, I don’t want to have to share the credit with anyone.”
“Now,” she continued, “let’s go over your assignments. DiDonato. Morton. You check the Starlight Hotel.”
“Sir.”
“We’ll send you more information when we have it. Cristobal. You take the restaurant—Roel’s.”
“Yes, sir.
“Popkin. Walker. You canvass the rest of the Core. Try to find anyone who saw them between the hotel and the restaurant.”
“That’s a lot of territory, Commander,” said Walker.
“We’ll send someone to help you. Bennett, Israel—you’ll be the research division. Check every available database on every other world in this sector—see if you can come up with someone who fits this name and description.”
“Commander?”
“Yes.”
It was Lieutenant Walker again. “Should we ask about this woman’s companion?”
“Yes, of course. But don’t forget—it’s the woman we want, and only the woman. Allison—I want you to set up a communication center here. We’ll use the screen as a virtual whiteboard—Kislav, you’re in charge of that. The rest of you, remember—be discreet. The Commandant wants this kept in-house. Let’s all show the brass that we can handle something like this ourselves. Understood?”
There was a chorus of “yes, sirs.” Hardcastle said: “All right then. Report in as soon as you find out anything. Allison will be on the communicator. Dismissed.”
The officers filed out. When they were gone, Guzman said: “What about me, sir?”
“Stay here, and keep yourself informed.” Hagen looked at the remaining officers. “I’ll be checking in periodically. Let me know as soon as you find out anything important.”
Kislav and Allison said: “Yes, sir.” Hagen nodded, and left the room.
When she was gone, Guzman said, “I’m going for coffee. Anybody else want some?”
The two officers paused, glanced at each other. Finally, Lieutenant Kislav said: “Sure, Chief. Thanks.”
“De nada,” said Guzman. Then he smiled. “If I’m here, it’s my job, right?”
Kislav and Allison chuckled. “Right.”
“Back in a minute,” said Guzman. Then he left the Briefing Room.
***
Up on the Lilienthal, Commander Hardcastle’s combadge twittered. “Sundancer to Hardcastle.”
“Hardcastle here.”
“Captain, it’s me.”
“Chief?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. What…”
“Just listen. I’ve only got a few minutes.”
***
“Federation starship Ulugh Beg to unidentified vessel. You are entering a restricted system. Identify yourself.”
On the edge of the star system, in the cockpit of a Danube-class runabout, Kalila pressed a button on her control panel. “Ulugh Beg, this is Federation runabout Liffey, out of Arcturus IV.”
“Stand by.” A pause. “Identity confirmed. Stand by to be scanned.”
“Standing by,” said Kalila.
***
“Oh, my God,” said Hardcastle, in her office on the Lilienthal. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure,” said the Chief, over the com. “But it looked like somebody stabbed him in the throat, and let him bleed out on the floor.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Captain…are you sure it was Captain Manning you saw last night? Outside York’s apartment?”
“I’m positive. Chief—you don’t think—”
“Well, who else?”
“But…why?”
“I don’t know, Captain. But I’m going to try to find out. In the meantime…I suggest you stay up on the ship, out of sight. And don’t try to contact me. I’ll contact you. Guzman out.”
***
Kalila’s husband pointed to port. “There she is,” he said.
Kalila looked out the portside window. A Miranda-class cruiser was approaching. It signalled again: “Scan complete. State your business, Liffey.”
Kalila said: “Ulugh Beg, we are proceeding to the Sundancer Penal Colony.”
“Stand by, Liffey.” Another pause. Then: “Confirmed. You are clear to proceed to Sundancer. Ulugh Beg out.” The starship banked to starboard and soared away, crossing the runabout’s wake.
“Thank you,” said Kalila. “Liffey out.” She logged the encounter with the patrol ship.
Her husband looked over at her, from the co-pilot’s chair. Finally, she glanced over, and noticed. “What?” she said.
“I was just wondering,” he said. “How do you feel about all this?”
“Funny,” she said. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“I asked you first.”
“All right,” said Kalila. She took a deep breath, began to talk, stopped, then began again. “I feel….angry, with Dawud. This is just so like him.”
“You don’t talk about him much.”
“The last time I was here was more than a year ago. I had to wait three days to see him, because they’d put him in isolation, after he killed another prisoner in a knife fight. Then, when I finally got to see him, he tried to divorce me, by pronouncing talaaq, because he was afraid someone might try to kill me, to get back at him.”
“Finally, after I left, he got into another fight, in which another inmate was killed. He told me later that I didn’t have to worry, that he’d fixed things, with his enemies, and that my life wasn’t in danger any more. He also told me that he’d helped two other convicts escape, in exchange for their help.”
“Bismillah!”
“The drama just never ends, with Dawud. So I feel…resentful at the way he’s intruded on our time together.” She sighed, deeply. “And then I remember that his father has just been murdered. And I think about his poor mother, stuck on that horrible planet, waiting for someone to come take her home. And I feel guilty for being so selfish.”
Her husband nodded. She looked over at him. “How do you feel about all this?”
He shrugged. “I’m fine,” he said.
Kalila’s mouth fell open. “Faisal!” she said.
“What?” he said, innocently.
“Faisal! Be serious!”
“All right, all right,” he said, smiling. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. But, honestly—I understand. We’re doing the right thing.” He reached out and took her hand. “We’ll just have to take a second honeymoon, some other time. What a shame that will be.”
“You’re really okay with this?”
He kissed her hand. “I’m really okay with this.”
***
“Walker to Briefing Room.”
“Briefing Room here. Go ahead.”
“Allison? Walker here. I’ve got a lead—a witness who says she saw a couple like ours near the restaurant—about, uh, 1930. The woman was carrying a shopping bag.”
***
In A-Block, on Sundancer, Commander Hagen walked into the briefing room.
“Understood,” said Lieutenant Allison. “What about a description? Uh-huh,” said Allison. “Uh-huh. All right—keep checking. Briefing Room out. Commander!”
“Yes?” said Hagen.
“Lieutenant Walker just reported in. He says a witness noticed our couple outside Roel’s restaurant last night, around 1930 hours. She says the woman was carrying a shopping bag. She couldn’t tell us much more about the woman, but said the man was blonde, blue-eyed, good-looking.”
Hagen considered. “What kind of shopping bag?” she said, finally.
“Sir?”
“Was there anything distinctive about the woman’s bag? If there was, we might be able to find out where she’d been shopping
The two looked at each other. “Yes, sir,” said Lieutenant Allison. He turned back to the communications panel and opened a channel. “Allison to Walker.”
Chief Guzman stood nearby, with one hand on his utility belt, and a cup of coffee in the other, his craggy features impassive.
***
Louise Patterson, the owner of the antique shop, looked up as the two Starfleet Security officers came in. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” said one. “I’m afraid we’re here on official business. Can we see one of your shopping bags?”
***
“Briefing Room to Commander Hagen.”
At her desk, in her office, Hagen looked up from the recycling-efficiency report she was reading. “Go ahead, Briefing Room,” she said.
“Sir, I’m patching you through to Morton. He’s got something.”
“Understood.”
“Commander Hagen?”
“Go ahead, Morton.”
“Sir, we’re here at the Starlight, talking to the staff. They remember our couple, from last night. The bartender who served them hasn’t come in yet. But the coat check girl remembered something about the woman. Said she was wearing some very unusual jewelry—clips in her hair. Alien, she says.”
Alien, thought Hagen. “Anything else?” she said.
“No, sir.”
“All right. Stay there until the bartender comes in.”
“Yes, sir. Morton out.”
Hagen set aside the padd she’d been reading, and opened a desk drawer: then, careful to hold it by its edges, she took out the hairclip she’d found on the floor of York’s washroom. She looked at it for moment, then took out a tricorder and scanned it.
“Computer,” she said. “Identify this piece of jewelry.”
“A Cardassian woman’s hair clip,” the Computer said.
“Are there fingerprints or DNA traces on this item?”
“No fingerprints or DNA traces,” the Computer said.
“Search the visual security logs for images of this item.”
“No matches.”
Damn it, she thought.
Still, it was better than nothing.
***
“Oh, yes,” the shop owner, Patterson, said. “I remember them. A young man and a young woman, both in their twenties, I would think.”
“Can you describe the woman?”
“Well—she was fairly tall. But she was wearing heels, so I couldn’t say how tall exactly. Above average height, anyway. Long, dark, wavy hair. She had it clipped up with some curious-looking jewelry—Cardassian, I would say. Dark eyes, with dark, heavy eye makeup. She bought a holo-sculpture of St. Teresa in Ecstasy.”
“St. Teresa?”
“Yes. St. Teresa of Avila.”
The two Security officers looked at each other, then back at the shop owner. “Would you recognize this woman if you saw her again?”
“I think so. Yes. Why?”
One of the officers tapped his combadge. “Walker to Briefing Room,” he said.
***
Up on the Lilienthal, Commander Hardcastle had an inspiration. “Computer,” she said, “who lives in the quarters adjoining Ensign Paul York’s?”
”Junior Lieutenant Anne-Sophie Grattard,” the Computer said.
“Locate Ensign Grattard.”
“Lieutenant Grattard is not on Sundancer.”
“Explain.”
“Lieutenant Grattard is on leave, on Earth, until Stardate 56434.”
“When did she leave the planet?”
”Stardate 56393.”
A week ago. Damn, she thought. So much for that.
***
Down on the planet, Commander Hagen was in Captain Manning’s office.
“Walker and Popkin are bringing the shop owner over to the prison right now,” she said. “My men are assembling a database of every woman on this planet who matches the description he gave. If necessary, we’ll bring them all in for an identification parade.”
“What happens then?” said Manning.
“Then we arrest her.”
“And then what?”
“Like I said, Captain—you don’t need to know that.”
The Captain’s combadge twittered. “Captain Manning?”
“Yes?” the Captain said. “What is it, Georgette?”
Captain, I’ve just received a call from Traffic Control. The Federation runabout Liffey has just arrived from Arcturus IV, and entered standard orbit. They’re asking permission to land.”
“What for?”
“They say they’re here to transport Mrs. Al-Manari and her husband’s remains to Mu Arae III.”
The Captain groaned. “Stand by,” he said. Then: “Susan—will you take care of this?”
Commander Hagen hesitated. “Will you be all right here?”
The Captain nodded. “I just— I can’t face that old woman again.”
Hagen nodded. “Yeoman—this is Commander Hagen.”
”Go ahead, Commander.”
“Tell Traffic Control the runabout has clearance to land on Pad One. Contact the morgue, and have Mr. Al-Manari’s remains put in a stasis tube for transport, and brought to Hangar One.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Hagen out.” The Commander turned to Captain Manning. “I’ll go get Mrs. Al-Manari myself,” said Hagen.
Manning just nodded. He was slumped in his chair, with his face in the palm of his hand again.
Hagen put her hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “We’re going to get through this, Norman,” she said. “Trust me.”
The Captain made a helpless gesture with his free hand. Hagen gave his shoulder a squeeze, then left the office.
In the corridor outside, she tapped her combadge. “Hagen to Hardcastle.”
”Hardcastle here.”
“Commander, a runabout is here from Arcturus IV to transport Mrs. Al-Manari and her husband back to their home world. Transport down to Hangar One with Dawud Jaffar, so they can say goodbye.”
There was a brief pause. Then: ”Understood, Commander.”
“Hagen out. Hagen to Guzman.”
“Guzman here.”
“Chief, come to my office. I need to speak to you.”
***
Hardcastle walked into the Lilienthal’s protective custody unit. Dawud Jaffar was in his cell, sitting on his bunk. He glared at her as she approached.
“Well, well,” he said. “If it isn’t Captain Bitch.”
Hardcastle pressed the button that lowered the force-field gate. “Watch your mouth, Jaffar,” she said.
“Watch my ass, Captain.”
Hardcastle put her hand on the hilt of her stun baton and tapped her combadge. “Officer Kammer,” she said. “Come in here. Bring some transport restraints, and a biting mask.”
A moment later, Hardcastle heard the door to the holding-cell area slide open behind her. The Commander glanced back over her shoulder, then turned back to face the prisoner.
“I’m not in the mood for this, Jaffar,” said Hardcastle. “A runabout has arrived from Arcturus IV to take your mother and your father back home. And I’ve been ordered to bring you down to the planet, so you can see them off.”
“Now, this can go one of two ways. You can promise to be good, and I can bring you down to the planet without restraints, and you can give your mother a hug and kiss goodbye. Or I can muzzle you, like a dog, and cuff your hands around your waist, and you can shuffle around like a man with his pants down around his ankles. It’s up to you.”
“Now—what’s it going to be?”
***
Guzman stepped out into the corridor outside the Briefing Room, walked over to the Assistant Commandant’s office, and pressed the call button.
The door slid open. Commander Hagen was standing inside. “Come in, Chief,” she said. “Shut the door.”
“Yes, sir.” He stepped inside. The door closed behind him.
Commander Hagen folded her arms across her chest and looked at Guzman, a stony expression on her face. “Chief,” she said. “We are close to arresting this Avila woman. I can feel it. This is where you come in.”
“Sir?”
“I’ll keep this brief. About nine months ago a correctional officer had his throat cut by a prisoner in Unit Nine. Officer Castillo.”
The Chief stiffened. “Yes, sir.”
“I understand you were good friends with Officer Castillo.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You two served together, during the war, on the Canopus.”
“Yes, sir.”
“According to the report I received at the time, the prisoner who murdered Officer Castillo was found dead soon afterward, from undetermined causes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Chief, I’ve received some disturbing new information about this case from a confidential source. According to this new information, the prisoner in question was beamed up onto the surface, without an environment suit, and left to die. Then he was beamed back down, to the prison, and thawed out before his body was discovered.”
She paused. Then, she said: “Do you know anything about this, Chief?”
“No, sir.”
“Of course you don’t. The prisoner died in his pod, from undetermined causes. You discovered the body, and signed the report yourself. Isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Chief—did you know that, on some planets, when a murderer confesses, the police let him try to escape, then shoot him in the back?”
“No, sir. I didn’t know that.”
“It’s true. A confession is written up afterwards, and justice is considered served.” Hagen paused again. Then, she said: “Chief, I am certain that when we capture the woman who killed Ensign York, she will try to escape. Do you understand?”
The Chief blinked. Finally he said: “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’re just a few years away from retirement, Chief. I would hate to see a long and distinguished career like yours ruined by this type of accusations.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll be back shortly,” said Hagen. “Stay here until I return.”
Then, she left.
***
Up on the Lilienthal, Hardcastle, Jaffar, and Kammer walked into the starboard transporter room on Floor Three. Kammer went over to the controls, while Jaffar and Hardcastle went over to the transport platform. Jaffar was unrestrained.
“Lilienthal to Sundancer,” said Officer Kammer.
“Sundancer, here. Go ahead, Lilienthal.”
“Sundancer, Commander Hardcastle is ready to beam down with a prisoner.”
“Stand by, Lilienthal.”
Hardcastle’s combadge chirped. “Guzman to Hardcastle,” it said.
Hardcastle sighed. “What is it Chief? I’m with someone.”
“Uh…” said the Chief’s voice. “ Nothing, Captain. It’ll wait.”
“Understood. Hardcastle out.”
Jaffar was looking at her curiously. “What?” she said.
The prisoner looked away. “Nothing,” he said.
“Sundancer to Lilienthal. Commander Hardcastle is cleared to beam down with her prisoner.”
“Understood, Sundancer. Lilienthal out.” Kammer looked up from the transporter controls. “Ready, Captain?”
“Ready.”
“Energizing.”
***
Two men and a woman paused at the prison’s main gate. The two Starfleet Security officers identified themselves, checked in their hand phasers, and signed in. Then, they identified their companion—a civilian—who was given a temporary security badge.
The force field gate came down. The three walked into the prison, heading for the turbolift. One of the officers turned to the civilian. “We appreciate your cooperation in this matter, Mrs. Patterson.”
“Not at all,” said the antique-shop owner. “I’m glad to help.”
ACT FIVE
The Liffey’s hatch opened.
Kalila made some final adjustments to her headscarf, and took a deep breath. Then she stepped through the runabout’s hatch, and down the steps.
The prison’s hangar floor was cold—that was the first thing she noticed. The second thing she noticed was the coffin. Just a stasis tube, really—two Security personnel were holding it in mid-air, with anti-gravs.
The third thing she noticed was Dawud, standing nearby, with a female Security officer at his side.
“Dawud,” she said.
“Kalila,” he said. His voice was thick with emotion. He was looking at her with eyes full of pain and loss. She lowered her own eyes, then turned to the Security officer. “Commander,” she said. “I am Lieutenant bint Ibrahim, Senior Operations Officer, USS Leinster. This,” she said, turning and gesturing, “is my husband, Lieutenant Bin Ghazi.”
“Lieutenant,” said the Security officer. “I’m Commander Hardcastle—Jaffar’s unit supervisor.”
“Commander,” said Kalila, “Can I ask who is responsible for denying Dawud’s request for emergency leave?”
“I am,” said the Commander.
“I see.” She glanced at Dawud. “Permission to speak freely, Commander?”
“Granted.”
Looking Hardcastle right in the eyes, Kalila said: “I think your decision was outrageous—a blatant violation of my ex-husband’s religious rights and freedoms under the Thirteenth Guarantee of the Federation Charter. And I plan to file a formal protest with Starfleet Command about this.”
For a moment, the two women stared at each other. Finally, without lowering her gaze, Hardcastle said: “I appreciate your candour, Lieutenant. I think you’ll find that my decision was in accordance with prison policy. Especially in cases like this, when a prisoner is a known flight risk.”
***
In Commander Hagen’s office, Chief Guzman cursed quietly. After a moment’s thought, he pressed his combadge again. “Guzman to Echevarria,” he said.
“Echevarria here.”
“Hey, Ramon,” said the Chief, walking over to the Commander’s desk. “Que pasa, amigo?”
“Hey, Jefe. Same shit, different day, man. What’s up?”
Guzman opened first one drawer, then another. “Ramon, man… did you tell anybody about that thing, last year?”
“What?” said the voice on the comm. “No way, Chief. Not me.”
Something caught the Chief’s eye. “Well, somebody told somebody,” he said.
“Puteña!”
“Yeah,” said Guzman. “And now Strap-On Suzie’s got me with my ass in the air and my face in the pillow.” The Commander had a piece of jewelry in her desk—a hair clip? The Hag always buzzed her hair short.
For a moment, Ramon did not reply. Guzman was about to keep searching the Commander’s desk, when he suddenly remembered.
Do you see a piece of jewelry anywhere? A Cardassian hair clip?
I must have passed out, at some point. He woke me up, at his place, and told me to get out.
“Chief?” said the combadge.
“Sorry—what?”
”I said, what can I do?”
Guzman put the hair clip back in Hagen’s desk. “Nothing, Ramon,” he said. “Just—watch your back.”
“You too, Jefe.”
***
In Hangar Floor One, Kalila’s eyes flashed angrily. “I know this prisoner, Commander,” she said, to Hardcastle. “He would never even consider using his father’s funeral as a chance to—”
“Kalila,” said Jaffar.
“—escape.” Kalila looked at Jaffar.
“Please,” he said. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right, Dawud!”
“Please, Kalila,” he said. “Please. Just let it go.”
Flustered, Kalila looked angrily from Jaffar, to Hardcastle. Then, she felt someone’s hand on her back.
“Kalila,” said Faisal.
She turned. “What?” she snapped.
Faisal pointed his head, off to the right. Another Starfleet Security officer—a full commander—was approaching, with an older woman, dressed in black, her face full of sorrow. Kalila lapsed into silence, and struggled to compose herself.
Dawud Jaffar stepped forward, and took the older woman by the hand. “Ummi,” he said, gently. “This is Kalila. And her husband, Faisal. They’re here to take you home.”
***
“Captain Manning?
“Yes? What is it, Georgette?”
“Chief Petty Officer Guzman is here to see you, sir.”
“Yeoman, I told you—”
He says it’s urgent, sir. About Commander Hagen, and the investigation.”
“All right. Send him in.”
The door to the Captain’s office opened, and Chief Guzman came in. “What can I do for you, Chief?” said the Captain, resignedly.
Guzman said: “Captain…I have some concerns about the way Commander Hagen is handling this investigation.”
“Concerns,” the Captain said.
“Yes, sir. This woman—Teresa Avila. She was out last night, with a man. When you called me this morning, you said we weren’t interested in him. Just her.”
“That’s right.”
“Sir—the man’s name was York. Ensign Paul York. He’s dead. Murdered”
The Captain shifted in his chair. “How did you discover that?”
“Commander Hagen told me. Right before she told me to go to the Ensign’s quarters, and clean the place up.” He paused, and studied the Captain’s face. “But I guess you know all this.”
“Why do you think we’re conducting this investigation, Chief?”
“How did you find out that York was dead?”
The Captain blinked. “His neighbour discovered him this morning.”
“His neighbour?”
“Yes. Lieutenant Grattard. She was friends with York. They worked in Operations together. She discovered his body this morning, and called Commander Hagen.”
“Commander Hagen?”
“Yes. York was a…protégé of hers.”
“Why didn’t Lieutenant Grattard just alert Security?”
“The Commander asked her not to. She’s… been generous with him. And after all the problems we’ve had lately, we wanted to make sure we had this Avila woman in custody before word got out.”
***
The door to Hangar Bay One slid shut. Commander Hagen said, “Dismissed,” and walked away without another word. The two COs with the anti-gravs left as well.
“Let’s go, Jaffar,” said Hardcastle.
“Commander?” he said.
“What?”
“Commander—can’t I stay and watch them leave? Please?”
Hardcastle looked at her prisoner, a little surprised. The anger and insolence from earlier was gone. Jaffar’s tone was pleading. He looked—broken.
Finally, she nodded. “All right,” she said. “The viewport’s over there.”
***
In the Commandant’s office, Chief Guzman said: “So where’s all this information about Avila coming from?”
“Lieutenant Grattard,” the Captain said. “She heard them shouting last night. You know how thin those walls are, in the junior officer’s residence.”
“That’s why you think she killed him?”
“Who else could it be?”
“Well…,” the Chief said. “What about Commander Hagen? He was her ‘protégé’.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Captain said. “Commander Hagen was in her quarters. In fact, I contacted her at zero-thirty hours last night. Right around the time that York was killed.”
“How do you know that?”
“That’s when Grattard heard them fighting.”
“She seems to be quite a detective.”
The Captain’s face grew angry. “What is your problem, Guzman?”
“I just don’t understand why you’re so sure that Avila killed him,” the Chief said, his own face impassive. “Suppose we find a witness that saw someone else going in or coming out of York’s quarters?”
The Captain blinked, again. “What witness?” he said.
“Maybe no one. But Commander Hagen didn’t send anyone to check.”
“You’re going to great lengths to protect this woman.”
“I’m just trying to keep an open mind, sir.”
“Very open. Maybe you know something you’re not telling me?”
***
The runabout was gone. Jaffar stood unmoving, staring at the empty hangar bay through the viewport, his face expressionless.
Finally, Hardcastle said, “It’s time to go, Jaffar. This way.”
Jaffar looked at her, then nodded. As they walked away, heading for the turbolift, he said: “Commander.”
“What?”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
***
“Wait,” said the antique-shop owner, stopping in her tracks.
The two Starfleet Security officers stopped as well. “What’s wrong?” said one of them.
The shop owner pointed at the intersection up ahead. “That was her!” she said.
“What? Where?”
“Over there! Just now!”
Popkin and Walker looked at each other, then dashed for the intersection.
***
“Can you describe the woman?”
“Well—she was fairly tall. But she was wearing heels, so I couldn’t say how tall exactly. Above average height, anyway. Long, dark, wavy hair. She had it clipped up with some curious-looking jewelry—Cardassian, I would say. Dark eyes, with dark, heavy eye makeup. She bought a holo-sculpture of St. Teresa in Ecstasy.”
“St. Teresa?”
“Yes. St. Teresa of Avila.”
The two Security officers looked at each other, then back at the shop owner. “Would you recognize this woman if you saw her again?”
“I think so. Yes. Why?”
One of the officers tapped his combadge. “Walker to Briefing Room,” he said.
***
Up on the Lilienthal, Commander Hardcastle had an inspiration. “Computer,” she said, “who lives in the quarters adjoining Ensign Paul York’s?”
”Junior Lieutenant Anne-Sophie Grattard,” the Computer said.
“Locate Ensign Grattard.”
“Lieutenant Grattard is not on Sundancer.”
“Explain.”
“Lieutenant Grattard is on leave, on Earth, until Stardate 56434.”
“When did she leave the planet?”
”Stardate 56393.”
A week ago. Damn, she thought. So much for that.
***
Down on the planet, Commander Hagen was in Captain Manning’s office.
“Walker and Popkin are bringing the shop owner over to the prison right now,” she said. “My men are assembling a database of every woman on this planet who matches the description he gave. If necessary, we’ll bring them all in for an identification parade.”
“What happens then?” said Manning.
“Then we arrest her.”
“And then what?”
“Like I said, Captain—you don’t need to know that.”
The Captain’s combadge twittered. “Captain Manning?”
“Yes?” the Captain said. “What is it, Georgette?”
Captain, I’ve just received a call from Traffic Control. The Federation runabout Liffey has just arrived from Arcturus IV, and entered standard orbit. They’re asking permission to land.”
“What for?”
“They say they’re here to transport Mrs. Al-Manari and her husband’s remains to Mu Arae III.”
The Captain groaned. “Stand by,” he said. Then: “Susan—will you take care of this?”
Commander Hagen hesitated. “Will you be all right here?”
The Captain nodded. “I just— I can’t face that old woman again.”
Hagen nodded. “Yeoman—this is Commander Hagen.”
”Go ahead, Commander.”
“Tell Traffic Control the runabout has clearance to land on Pad One. Contact the morgue, and have Mr. Al-Manari’s remains put in a stasis tube for transport, and brought to Hangar One.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Hagen out.” The Commander turned to Captain Manning. “I’ll go get Mrs. Al-Manari myself,” said Hagen.
Manning just nodded. He was slumped in his chair, with his face in the palm of his hand again.
Hagen put her hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “We’re going to get through this, Norman,” she said. “Trust me.”
The Captain made a helpless gesture with his free hand. Hagen gave his shoulder a squeeze, then left the office.
In the corridor outside, she tapped her combadge. “Hagen to Hardcastle.”
”Hardcastle here.”
“Commander, a runabout is here from Arcturus IV to transport Mrs. Al-Manari and her husband back to their home world. Transport down to Hangar One with Dawud Jaffar, so they can say goodbye.”
There was a brief pause. Then: ”Understood, Commander.”
“Hagen out. Hagen to Guzman.”
“Guzman here.”
“Chief, come to my office. I need to speak to you.”
***
Hardcastle walked into the Lilienthal’s protective custody unit. Dawud Jaffar was in his cell, sitting on his bunk. He glared at her as she approached.
“Well, well,” he said. “If it isn’t Captain Bitch.”
Hardcastle pressed the button that lowered the force-field gate. “Watch your mouth, Jaffar,” she said.
“Watch my ass, Captain.”
Hardcastle put her hand on the hilt of her stun baton and tapped her combadge. “Officer Kammer,” she said. “Come in here. Bring some transport restraints, and a biting mask.”
A moment later, Hardcastle heard the door to the holding-cell area slide open behind her. The Commander glanced back over her shoulder, then turned back to face the prisoner.
“I’m not in the mood for this, Jaffar,” said Hardcastle. “A runabout has arrived from Arcturus IV to take your mother and your father back home. And I’ve been ordered to bring you down to the planet, so you can see them off.”
“Now, this can go one of two ways. You can promise to be good, and I can bring you down to the planet without restraints, and you can give your mother a hug and kiss goodbye. Or I can muzzle you, like a dog, and cuff your hands around your waist, and you can shuffle around like a man with his pants down around his ankles. It’s up to you.”
“Now—what’s it going to be?”
***
Guzman stepped out into the corridor outside the Briefing Room, walked over to the Assistant Commandant’s office, and pressed the call button.
The door slid open. Commander Hagen was standing inside. “Come in, Chief,” she said. “Shut the door.”
“Yes, sir.” He stepped inside. The door closed behind him.
Commander Hagen folded her arms across her chest and looked at Guzman, a stony expression on her face. “Chief,” she said. “We are close to arresting this Avila woman. I can feel it. This is where you come in.”
“Sir?”
“I’ll keep this brief. About nine months ago a correctional officer had his throat cut by a prisoner in Unit Nine. Officer Castillo.”
The Chief stiffened. “Yes, sir.”
“I understand you were good friends with Officer Castillo.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You two served together, during the war, on the Canopus.”
“Yes, sir.”
“According to the report I received at the time, the prisoner who murdered Officer Castillo was found dead soon afterward, from undetermined causes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Chief, I’ve received some disturbing new information about this case from a confidential source. According to this new information, the prisoner in question was beamed up onto the surface, without an environment suit, and left to die. Then he was beamed back down, to the prison, and thawed out before his body was discovered.”
She paused. Then, she said: “Do you know anything about this, Chief?”
“No, sir.”
“Of course you don’t. The prisoner died in his pod, from undetermined causes. You discovered the body, and signed the report yourself. Isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Chief—did you know that, on some planets, when a murderer confesses, the police let him try to escape, then shoot him in the back?”
“No, sir. I didn’t know that.”
“It’s true. A confession is written up afterwards, and justice is considered served.” Hagen paused again. Then, she said: “Chief, I am certain that when we capture the woman who killed Ensign York, she will try to escape. Do you understand?”
The Chief blinked. Finally he said: “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’re just a few years away from retirement, Chief. I would hate to see a long and distinguished career like yours ruined by this type of accusations.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll be back shortly,” said Hagen. “Stay here until I return.”
Then, she left.
***
Up on the Lilienthal, Hardcastle, Jaffar, and Kammer walked into the starboard transporter room on Floor Three. Kammer went over to the controls, while Jaffar and Hardcastle went over to the transport platform. Jaffar was unrestrained.
“Lilienthal to Sundancer,” said Officer Kammer.
“Sundancer, here. Go ahead, Lilienthal.”
“Sundancer, Commander Hardcastle is ready to beam down with a prisoner.”
“Stand by, Lilienthal.”
Hardcastle’s combadge chirped. “Guzman to Hardcastle,” it said.
Hardcastle sighed. “What is it Chief? I’m with someone.”
“Uh…” said the Chief’s voice. “ Nothing, Captain. It’ll wait.”
“Understood. Hardcastle out.”
Jaffar was looking at her curiously. “What?” she said.
The prisoner looked away. “Nothing,” he said.
“Sundancer to Lilienthal. Commander Hardcastle is cleared to beam down with her prisoner.”
“Understood, Sundancer. Lilienthal out.” Kammer looked up from the transporter controls. “Ready, Captain?”
“Ready.”
“Energizing.”
***
Two men and a woman paused at the prison’s main gate. The two Starfleet Security officers identified themselves, checked in their hand phasers, and signed in. Then, they identified their companion—a civilian—who was given a temporary security badge.
The force field gate came down. The three walked into the prison, heading for the turbolift. One of the officers turned to the civilian. “We appreciate your cooperation in this matter, Mrs. Patterson.”
“Not at all,” said the antique-shop owner. “I’m glad to help.”
ACT FIVE
The Liffey’s hatch opened.
Kalila made some final adjustments to her headscarf, and took a deep breath. Then she stepped through the runabout’s hatch, and down the steps.
The prison’s hangar floor was cold—that was the first thing she noticed. The second thing she noticed was the coffin. Just a stasis tube, really—two Security personnel were holding it in mid-air, with anti-gravs.
The third thing she noticed was Dawud, standing nearby, with a female Security officer at his side.
“Dawud,” she said.
“Kalila,” he said. His voice was thick with emotion. He was looking at her with eyes full of pain and loss. She lowered her own eyes, then turned to the Security officer. “Commander,” she said. “I am Lieutenant bint Ibrahim, Senior Operations Officer, USS Leinster. This,” she said, turning and gesturing, “is my husband, Lieutenant Bin Ghazi.”
“Lieutenant,” said the Security officer. “I’m Commander Hardcastle—Jaffar’s unit supervisor.”
“Commander,” said Kalila, “Can I ask who is responsible for denying Dawud’s request for emergency leave?”
“I am,” said the Commander.
“I see.” She glanced at Dawud. “Permission to speak freely, Commander?”
“Granted.”
Looking Hardcastle right in the eyes, Kalila said: “I think your decision was outrageous—a blatant violation of my ex-husband’s religious rights and freedoms under the Thirteenth Guarantee of the Federation Charter. And I plan to file a formal protest with Starfleet Command about this.”
For a moment, the two women stared at each other. Finally, without lowering her gaze, Hardcastle said: “I appreciate your candour, Lieutenant. I think you’ll find that my decision was in accordance with prison policy. Especially in cases like this, when a prisoner is a known flight risk.”
***
In Commander Hagen’s office, Chief Guzman cursed quietly. After a moment’s thought, he pressed his combadge again. “Guzman to Echevarria,” he said.
“Echevarria here.”
“Hey, Ramon,” said the Chief, walking over to the Commander’s desk. “Que pasa, amigo?”
“Hey, Jefe. Same shit, different day, man. What’s up?”
Guzman opened first one drawer, then another. “Ramon, man… did you tell anybody about that thing, last year?”
“What?” said the voice on the comm. “No way, Chief. Not me.”
Something caught the Chief’s eye. “Well, somebody told somebody,” he said.
“Puteña!”
“Yeah,” said Guzman. “And now Strap-On Suzie’s got me with my ass in the air and my face in the pillow.” The Commander had a piece of jewelry in her desk—a hair clip? The Hag always buzzed her hair short.
For a moment, Ramon did not reply. Guzman was about to keep searching the Commander’s desk, when he suddenly remembered.
Do you see a piece of jewelry anywhere? A Cardassian hair clip?
I must have passed out, at some point. He woke me up, at his place, and told me to get out.
“Chief?” said the combadge.
“Sorry—what?”
”I said, what can I do?”
Guzman put the hair clip back in Hagen’s desk. “Nothing, Ramon,” he said. “Just—watch your back.”
“You too, Jefe.”
***
In Hangar Floor One, Kalila’s eyes flashed angrily. “I know this prisoner, Commander,” she said, to Hardcastle. “He would never even consider using his father’s funeral as a chance to—”
“Kalila,” said Jaffar.
“—escape.” Kalila looked at Jaffar.
“Please,” he said. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right, Dawud!”
“Please, Kalila,” he said. “Please. Just let it go.”
Flustered, Kalila looked angrily from Jaffar, to Hardcastle. Then, she felt someone’s hand on her back.
“Kalila,” said Faisal.
She turned. “What?” she snapped.
Faisal pointed his head, off to the right. Another Starfleet Security officer—a full commander—was approaching, with an older woman, dressed in black, her face full of sorrow. Kalila lapsed into silence, and struggled to compose herself.
Dawud Jaffar stepped forward, and took the older woman by the hand. “Ummi,” he said, gently. “This is Kalila. And her husband, Faisal. They’re here to take you home.”
***
“Captain Manning?
“Yes? What is it, Georgette?”
“Chief Petty Officer Guzman is here to see you, sir.”
“Yeoman, I told you—”
He says it’s urgent, sir. About Commander Hagen, and the investigation.”
“All right. Send him in.”
The door to the Captain’s office opened, and Chief Guzman came in. “What can I do for you, Chief?” said the Captain, resignedly.
Guzman said: “Captain…I have some concerns about the way Commander Hagen is handling this investigation.”
“Concerns,” the Captain said.
“Yes, sir. This woman—Teresa Avila. She was out last night, with a man. When you called me this morning, you said we weren’t interested in him. Just her.”
“That’s right.”
“Sir—the man’s name was York. Ensign Paul York. He’s dead. Murdered”
The Captain shifted in his chair. “How did you discover that?”
“Commander Hagen told me. Right before she told me to go to the Ensign’s quarters, and clean the place up.” He paused, and studied the Captain’s face. “But I guess you know all this.”
“Why do you think we’re conducting this investigation, Chief?”
“How did you find out that York was dead?”
The Captain blinked. “His neighbour discovered him this morning.”
“His neighbour?”
“Yes. Lieutenant Grattard. She was friends with York. They worked in Operations together. She discovered his body this morning, and called Commander Hagen.”
“Commander Hagen?”
“Yes. York was a…protégé of hers.”
“Why didn’t Lieutenant Grattard just alert Security?”
“The Commander asked her not to. She’s… been generous with him. And after all the problems we’ve had lately, we wanted to make sure we had this Avila woman in custody before word got out.”
***
The door to Hangar Bay One slid shut. Commander Hagen said, “Dismissed,” and walked away without another word. The two COs with the anti-gravs left as well.
“Let’s go, Jaffar,” said Hardcastle.
“Commander?” he said.
“What?”
“Commander—can’t I stay and watch them leave? Please?”
Hardcastle looked at her prisoner, a little surprised. The anger and insolence from earlier was gone. Jaffar’s tone was pleading. He looked—broken.
Finally, she nodded. “All right,” she said. “The viewport’s over there.”
***
In the Commandant’s office, Chief Guzman said: “So where’s all this information about Avila coming from?”
“Lieutenant Grattard,” the Captain said. “She heard them shouting last night. You know how thin those walls are, in the junior officer’s residence.”
“That’s why you think she killed him?”
“Who else could it be?”
“Well…,” the Chief said. “What about Commander Hagen? He was her ‘protégé’.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Captain said. “Commander Hagen was in her quarters. In fact, I contacted her at zero-thirty hours last night. Right around the time that York was killed.”
“How do you know that?”
“That’s when Grattard heard them fighting.”
“She seems to be quite a detective.”
The Captain’s face grew angry. “What is your problem, Guzman?”
“I just don’t understand why you’re so sure that Avila killed him,” the Chief said, his own face impassive. “Suppose we find a witness that saw someone else going in or coming out of York’s quarters?”
The Captain blinked, again. “What witness?” he said.
“Maybe no one. But Commander Hagen didn’t send anyone to check.”
“You’re going to great lengths to protect this woman.”
“I’m just trying to keep an open mind, sir.”
“Very open. Maybe you know something you’re not telling me?”
***
The runabout was gone. Jaffar stood unmoving, staring at the empty hangar bay through the viewport, his face expressionless.
Finally, Hardcastle said, “It’s time to go, Jaffar. This way.”
Jaffar looked at her, then nodded. As they walked away, heading for the turbolift, he said: “Commander.”
“What?”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
***
“Wait,” said the antique-shop owner, stopping in her tracks.
The two Starfleet Security officers stopped as well. “What’s wrong?” said one of them.
The shop owner pointed at the intersection up ahead. “That was her!” she said.
“What? Where?”
“Over there! Just now!”
Popkin and Walker looked at each other, then dashed for the intersection.
***
Commander Hagen’s combadge gave a chirp. “Lieutenant Walker to Commander Hagen!”
She stopped in the corridor. “Hagen here.”
“Commander—she’s here!”
“What?”
“The Avila woman—she’s here, in A-Block! The shop owner spotted her, in the corridor!”
“Well—arrest her, damn it!”
“We can’t, sir. We lost her.”
“What do you mean, you lost her?”
“Mrs. Patterson only got a glimpse of her, sir. But she can’t have gone far.”
“You idiots! How could you—” Hagen, stopped, fought to control her temper. “All right. Understood, Lieutenant. Get to the Control Centre, on the double!”
“Understood, sir.”
Hagen broke into a jog-trot. “Computer,” she said. “Code red. Lock down A-Block, authorization Hagen sigma seven-three. Intruder alert!”
***
In the Commandant’s office, the red-alert alarm went off. Captain Manning and Chief Guzman looked up, surprised.
Then, they heard the voice of Commander Hagen, over the intercom. “Attention all hands,” it said. “This is the Assistant Commandant. Code red in A-Block. I repeat, code red in A-Block. This is not a drill.”
“What the hell?” said Captain Manning. He tapped his combadge. “Manning to Hagen,” he said.
“Sir,” said Chief Guzman. “I’d better get back. To the Briefing Room.”
Manning waved his hand. “Dismissed,” he said. “Manning to Hagen, respond!”
***
Hardcastle and Jaffar were on their way to the transporter room when the alarm went off.
“Attention all hands,” it said. “This is the Assistant Commandant. Code red in A-Block. I repeat, code red in A-Block. This is not a drill.”
Oh, no, Hardcastle thought.
Her combadge twittered. “Guzman to Hardcastle.”
“Hardcastle here. Chief, I’m—”
“Captain,”, said the Chief, interrupting her. “Where are you? Are you down on the planet?”
“Yes.”
The Chief swore terribly, in Spanish. Captain—you need to get out of sight, right now.”
“Chief?”
“Captain, they’re going to kill you. Get out of sight now!”
***
Commander Hagen hurried into the Control Centre. Security personnel were scanning viewscreens, trying to find the source of the problem. The control-centre supervisor called out: “Commander—”
“Quiet,” she snapped. She moved over to an arms locker, still talking. “Clear the viewscreens. Computer: this is a priority-one security directive, authorization Hagen sigma-seven-three.”
“Acknowledged,” the Computer said.
Hagen opened the arms locker, took out a Type-I hand phaser, and checked its charge. “Access Assistant Commandant’s workstation,” she said. “Open database file Avila, A-V-I-L-A.”
“File open.”
Satisfied, the Commander put the phaser in her trousers pocket. “Locate all personnel in A-Block that match the physical parameters listed in that file,” she said, “and show them on the control-centre viewscreens.”
***
Hardcastle looked around. There: a washroom. She pulled out her stun baton and grabbed Jaffar by the arm. “Come on,” she said.
“What—”
“Come on, Jaffar!”
She dragged him through the door. A correctional officer looked up from a nearby urinal, startled. “Hey,” he said. “This is the—”
“Code red!” Hardcastle shouted. “Get to your station, mister! Now!”
“Uh…yessir!” The CO hurried out, struggling to close his fly. Hardcastle opened a toilet-stall door, and shoved Jaffar inside. “Get in there!”
“Commander—what the hell?”
Hardcastle got into the stall as well, and closed the door.
“Commander—” said Jaffar.
“Quiet,” said Hardcastle.
“Commander—”
Hardcastle turned on him, raising her baton. “Shut up!” she hissed.
Jaffar held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Yes, sir,” he said, and sat down on the toilet.
***
In the Control Centre, Commander Hagen said: “Look carefully, Mrs. Patterson. Do you see the woman from last night on any of these viewscreens?”
The antique shop-owner looked from screen to screen. All of them were centered on Starfleet personnel—all of them women with long dark hair.
“I don’t think so,” she said, uncertainly.
“Keep looking, Mrs. Patterson.” She tapped her combadge. “Hagen to Emergency Response.”
“Emergency Response. Falkingham here.”
“Commander, scramble your teams, and start searching the blind spots in A-Block, right now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The intruder is a human, female, in Starfleet uniform. Above average height, long dark hair. She should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. You are authorized to use deadly force, if necessary, to apprehend her.”
“Deadly force. Aye, sir.”
“Hagen out. Hagen to Guzman.”
”Guzman here.”
“Report to the Control Centre, Chief. Hagen out.”
***
Hardcastle’s combadge chirped. “Guzman to Hardcastle.”
“Here, Chief,” said Hardcastle.
Captain, are you safe?”
“I think so. For now. I’m in the wash—I”
“Don’t tell me where you are. The Hag has the swats out looking for you, Captain. They’ve got orders to shoot to kill.”
“Oh, my God. Chief, the whole unit is locked down. I can’t transport back to the ship.”
”I know, Captain. I’m trying to think of something.”
“Hurry, Chief.”
“Commander,” said Jaffar.
Hardcastle turned. “What?” she said.
Jaffar looked back at her calmly. “Look, Commander—I don’t know what’s going on. But you can’t stay here. Emergency Response will be here any second. And something tells me I don’t want to be here when they find you.”
“So?”
“So, I have an idea.”
***
The door to the washroom slid open. The Emergency-Response officer leveled his phaser rifle at the open doorway. “Security!” he shouted. “Anyone in there?”
There was no answer. Behind him, the Team Leader said: “Tricorder.”
After a quick scan, another member of the team said: “No life signs.”
“Check it,” said the Team Leader.
The swats moved in, weapons at the ready. The Team Leader pointed at the toilet stalls, and his men began kicking the doors open.
Finally, one of them said: “Nothing, sir.”
“All right,” said the Team Leader. “Let’s move on.”
***
The transporter room materialized around the Starfleet officer and her prisoner.
Hardcastle took a deep, shuddering breath and looked around. Chief Guzman stood at the transporter controls, beside another officer—a Vulcan, with a lieutenant-commander’s pips on his collar. “Commander Hardcastle,” he said.
“Commander Tomak,” said Hardcastle.
“Jaffar,” said Tomak. “Welcome to Unit Zero.”
***
“Falkingham to Hagen.”
“Hagen here.”
“All teams have reported in, Commander. No result.”
“That’s impossible. Check again. Hagen out.”
Then, she looked around.
Where was Guzman?
***
When the Chief and Hardcastle were done talking, Tomak raised an eyebrow. “Fascinating,” he said.
“What now?” said Hardcastle.
“We should contact the Sector Office of the Judge advocate General on Starbase Eight,” said Tomak.
“Can I make another suggestion?” said Jaffar.
The three Starfleet officers looked in the prisoner’s direction. He was sitting on the transporter pad.
“Be my guest,” said Guzman.
“You’re going to have a hard time proving anything, so long as Captain Manning and Commander Hagen stick to their stories and stick together,” said Jaffar. “Your best bet is to find some way to turn them against each other.”
Tomak, Hardcastle and the Chief looked back at each other. Finally, Hardcastle said: “I have an idea.”
***
In the Commandant’s office, Captain Manning sat behind his desk, looking incredulously at Commander Hagen. “Escaped?” he said. “How?”
Hagen sat in a visitor’s chair, chewing a fingernail. “I don’t know,” she said, finally. “Patterson was certain that she saw Avila in the corridor, but she couldn’t identify her on any of the viewscreens. Emergency Response checked all the blind spots. I don’t understand it. Unless—”
“Unless what?”
“Unless she had help, from someone. Computer,” Hagen said, “locate—”
“Guzman to Captain Manning.”
Hagen stopped, surprised. The Captain tapped his combadge. “Manning here,” he said.
“Captain—we’ve arrested the suspect. We’re in Commander Hagen’s office. We’ll hold her until you get here.”
“My office?” Hagen said.
“Good work, Chief!” said the Captain, getting to his feet. “We’ll be right there.”
***
The door to Hagen’s office opened, and Captain Manning and Commander Hagen came though. Then, they stopped.
There were three Starfleet Security officers inside: Chief Guzman, Lieutenant-Commander Hardcastle, and Lieutenant-Commander Tomak.
Hagen was the first to recover from her surprise. “Chief,” she said. “You said you had the suspect in custody.”
“Yes, I did,” the Chief said. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a shock. The woman you’re looking for is Commander Hagen.”
Hagen and Manning looked at each other. “Chief,” said the Captain, slowly. “That’s a very serious charge.”
“I know, sir. I wouldn’t be making it unless I had the evidence.”
“Evidence?” Hagen said. “What evidence? I’ve been in the Control Centre with Mrs. Patterson, the antique shop owner, for the past half hour.”
“I’m not saying that the Commander is Teresa Avila,” said Guzman. “But she’s the killer, nonetheless.”
“I’m the killer?” said Commander Hagen. “Why would I kill Ensign York?”
“Blackmail,” said Guzman. “Commander Hagen has been authorizing irregular performance bonuses for Ensign York. Accounting will verify that.”
“Ridiculous,” Hagen said.
“Is it?” The Chief nodded toward Hagen’s desk. “The proof’s in that desk drawer. Go ahead and look.”
Hagen started forward, then stopped, and put her hands behind her back. “I don’t have to look.”
“Are you sure?”
“I know what’s in my own desk.”
Hardcastle said: “You’re afraid to open that drawer, Commander. Why?”
“Because we found something in there,” said Guzman.
Hardcastle reached into the desk, took out a piece of jewelry, and put it on the desktop. “One of the Cardassian hairclips that Teresa Avila was wearing when she was seen with Ensign York. Where would Commander Hagen get this, except from York’s quarters?”
The Captain said: “York’s neighbour might have discovered it—brought it here.”
“York’s neighbour?” said Guzman. “You mean, Lieutenant Grattard?”
“Is that what Commander Hagen told you, Captain?” said Hardcastle. “That Lieutenant Grattard contacted her this morning?”
“Of course,” the Captain said. Hagen glanced at him, surprised.
“Then Commander Hagen was lying,” said Hardcastle. “Lieutenant Grattard is away on leave. On Earth. She’s been gone for a week.
The Captain started to speak, then stopped. After a moment, he moved over to a visitor’s chair, sat down, and stared at the floor.
“Captain?” said Commander Hagen. “Are you all right?”
Lieutenant-Commander Tomak spoke up. “The evidence is inconclusive, of course. Nonetheless, we should contact Starbase Eight, and inform the sector office of the Judge Advocate General, at once.”
Hagen looked up. “I don’t think so, Commander. In fact, I think you’ve all lost your minds.” Realization dawned on her face. Her eyes hardened. “You know, Hardcastle—you fit the physical description we were given for Teresa Avila. Maybe we should let Mrs. Patterson have a look at you.”
Hardcastle turned to Captain Manning. “Captain?”
Hagen tapped her combadge. “Hagen to Falkingham.”
“Falkingham here.”
“Commander, send an Emergency response team to my office at once.”
“Belay that,” said Manning.
“Sir?”
Manning raised his head. “Commander Falkingham,” he said, slowly. “This is the Captain. Belay Commander Hagen’s order. You and your men can stand down.”
“Captain!” said Hagen, pointing at Hardcastle. “She’s the one! We can get through this!”
The Captain got to his feet and straightened his tunic. “Computer,” he said. “This is the Captain. Cancel red alert.”
“Captain!”
“Susan…,” said Manning, looking at Hagen, patting her on the shoulder. “Susan, you’re the most loyal subordinate I’ve ever had. And I’m not going to let you down.”
Hagen looked confused. “What do you mean?” she said.
Manning turned to the remaining officers. “Commander Hardcastle—Commander Tomak—Chief—Ensign York wasn’t blackmailing Commander Hagen. I told her to pay him those bonuses. Paul and I—we’d had a—relationship. A sexual relationship. He was blackmailing me.”
“Captain,” said Hagen, “you don’t have to do this—”
“I guess it’s no secret how Commander Hagen feels about me. She hated Paul. She was trying to protect me. To protect my career. She went too far.”
Hagen’s eyes widened. “Norman?” she said.
Manning looked at her. “I’m so sorry, Susan,” he said. “This is all my fault. But you won’t be alone. I’ll find you the best advocate in Starfleet.”
For a moment, Hagen just stood there, blinking. Then she smiled, weakly. “Thank you, Norman,” she said.
Commander Tomak said: “I will contact—”
The phaser beam hit Captain Manning in the chest, hurling him back against the wall. An alarm went off.
Chief Guzman went for his dart gun. Commander Hagen pointed her Type-I phaser at him. “Freeze!” she said.
The Chief stopped. Hagen covered Tomak and Hardcastle. “Don’t move,” she said.
Hardcastle was holding up her hands. “Commander,” she said. “Put the phaser down.”
Hagen looked at Manning’s body, on the floor, then back to Hardcastle. Her eyes were shining with tears. But she smiled, again.
“Men,” she said.
Then she put the phaser to her head, and shot herself.
THE END
(Adapted from John Farrow’s The Big Clock (1948))
She stopped in the corridor. “Hagen here.”
“Commander—she’s here!”
“What?”
“The Avila woman—she’s here, in A-Block! The shop owner spotted her, in the corridor!”
“Well—arrest her, damn it!”
“We can’t, sir. We lost her.”
“What do you mean, you lost her?”
“Mrs. Patterson only got a glimpse of her, sir. But she can’t have gone far.”
“You idiots! How could you—” Hagen, stopped, fought to control her temper. “All right. Understood, Lieutenant. Get to the Control Centre, on the double!”
“Understood, sir.”
Hagen broke into a jog-trot. “Computer,” she said. “Code red. Lock down A-Block, authorization Hagen sigma seven-three. Intruder alert!”
***
In the Commandant’s office, the red-alert alarm went off. Captain Manning and Chief Guzman looked up, surprised.
Then, they heard the voice of Commander Hagen, over the intercom. “Attention all hands,” it said. “This is the Assistant Commandant. Code red in A-Block. I repeat, code red in A-Block. This is not a drill.”
“What the hell?” said Captain Manning. He tapped his combadge. “Manning to Hagen,” he said.
“Sir,” said Chief Guzman. “I’d better get back. To the Briefing Room.”
Manning waved his hand. “Dismissed,” he said. “Manning to Hagen, respond!”
***
Hardcastle and Jaffar were on their way to the transporter room when the alarm went off.
“Attention all hands,” it said. “This is the Assistant Commandant. Code red in A-Block. I repeat, code red in A-Block. This is not a drill.”
Oh, no, Hardcastle thought.
Her combadge twittered. “Guzman to Hardcastle.”
“Hardcastle here. Chief, I’m—”
“Captain,”, said the Chief, interrupting her. “Where are you? Are you down on the planet?”
“Yes.”
The Chief swore terribly, in Spanish. Captain—you need to get out of sight, right now.”
“Chief?”
“Captain, they’re going to kill you. Get out of sight now!”
***
Commander Hagen hurried into the Control Centre. Security personnel were scanning viewscreens, trying to find the source of the problem. The control-centre supervisor called out: “Commander—”
“Quiet,” she snapped. She moved over to an arms locker, still talking. “Clear the viewscreens. Computer: this is a priority-one security directive, authorization Hagen sigma-seven-three.”
“Acknowledged,” the Computer said.
Hagen opened the arms locker, took out a Type-I hand phaser, and checked its charge. “Access Assistant Commandant’s workstation,” she said. “Open database file Avila, A-V-I-L-A.”
“File open.”
Satisfied, the Commander put the phaser in her trousers pocket. “Locate all personnel in A-Block that match the physical parameters listed in that file,” she said, “and show them on the control-centre viewscreens.”
***
Hardcastle looked around. There: a washroom. She pulled out her stun baton and grabbed Jaffar by the arm. “Come on,” she said.
“What—”
“Come on, Jaffar!”
She dragged him through the door. A correctional officer looked up from a nearby urinal, startled. “Hey,” he said. “This is the—”
“Code red!” Hardcastle shouted. “Get to your station, mister! Now!”
“Uh…yessir!” The CO hurried out, struggling to close his fly. Hardcastle opened a toilet-stall door, and shoved Jaffar inside. “Get in there!”
“Commander—what the hell?”
Hardcastle got into the stall as well, and closed the door.
“Commander—” said Jaffar.
“Quiet,” said Hardcastle.
“Commander—”
Hardcastle turned on him, raising her baton. “Shut up!” she hissed.
Jaffar held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Yes, sir,” he said, and sat down on the toilet.
***
In the Control Centre, Commander Hagen said: “Look carefully, Mrs. Patterson. Do you see the woman from last night on any of these viewscreens?”
The antique shop-owner looked from screen to screen. All of them were centered on Starfleet personnel—all of them women with long dark hair.
“I don’t think so,” she said, uncertainly.
“Keep looking, Mrs. Patterson.” She tapped her combadge. “Hagen to Emergency Response.”
“Emergency Response. Falkingham here.”
“Commander, scramble your teams, and start searching the blind spots in A-Block, right now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The intruder is a human, female, in Starfleet uniform. Above average height, long dark hair. She should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. You are authorized to use deadly force, if necessary, to apprehend her.”
“Deadly force. Aye, sir.”
“Hagen out. Hagen to Guzman.”
”Guzman here.”
“Report to the Control Centre, Chief. Hagen out.”
***
Hardcastle’s combadge chirped. “Guzman to Hardcastle.”
“Here, Chief,” said Hardcastle.
Captain, are you safe?”
“I think so. For now. I’m in the wash—I”
“Don’t tell me where you are. The Hag has the swats out looking for you, Captain. They’ve got orders to shoot to kill.”
“Oh, my God. Chief, the whole unit is locked down. I can’t transport back to the ship.”
”I know, Captain. I’m trying to think of something.”
“Hurry, Chief.”
“Commander,” said Jaffar.
Hardcastle turned. “What?” she said.
Jaffar looked back at her calmly. “Look, Commander—I don’t know what’s going on. But you can’t stay here. Emergency Response will be here any second. And something tells me I don’t want to be here when they find you.”
“So?”
“So, I have an idea.”
***
The door to the washroom slid open. The Emergency-Response officer leveled his phaser rifle at the open doorway. “Security!” he shouted. “Anyone in there?”
There was no answer. Behind him, the Team Leader said: “Tricorder.”
After a quick scan, another member of the team said: “No life signs.”
“Check it,” said the Team Leader.
The swats moved in, weapons at the ready. The Team Leader pointed at the toilet stalls, and his men began kicking the doors open.
Finally, one of them said: “Nothing, sir.”
“All right,” said the Team Leader. “Let’s move on.”
***
The transporter room materialized around the Starfleet officer and her prisoner.
Hardcastle took a deep, shuddering breath and looked around. Chief Guzman stood at the transporter controls, beside another officer—a Vulcan, with a lieutenant-commander’s pips on his collar. “Commander Hardcastle,” he said.
“Commander Tomak,” said Hardcastle.
“Jaffar,” said Tomak. “Welcome to Unit Zero.”
***
“Falkingham to Hagen.”
“Hagen here.”
“All teams have reported in, Commander. No result.”
“That’s impossible. Check again. Hagen out.”
Then, she looked around.
Where was Guzman?
***
When the Chief and Hardcastle were done talking, Tomak raised an eyebrow. “Fascinating,” he said.
“What now?” said Hardcastle.
“We should contact the Sector Office of the Judge advocate General on Starbase Eight,” said Tomak.
“Can I make another suggestion?” said Jaffar.
The three Starfleet officers looked in the prisoner’s direction. He was sitting on the transporter pad.
“Be my guest,” said Guzman.
“You’re going to have a hard time proving anything, so long as Captain Manning and Commander Hagen stick to their stories and stick together,” said Jaffar. “Your best bet is to find some way to turn them against each other.”
Tomak, Hardcastle and the Chief looked back at each other. Finally, Hardcastle said: “I have an idea.”
***
In the Commandant’s office, Captain Manning sat behind his desk, looking incredulously at Commander Hagen. “Escaped?” he said. “How?”
Hagen sat in a visitor’s chair, chewing a fingernail. “I don’t know,” she said, finally. “Patterson was certain that she saw Avila in the corridor, but she couldn’t identify her on any of the viewscreens. Emergency Response checked all the blind spots. I don’t understand it. Unless—”
“Unless what?”
“Unless she had help, from someone. Computer,” Hagen said, “locate—”
“Guzman to Captain Manning.”
Hagen stopped, surprised. The Captain tapped his combadge. “Manning here,” he said.
“Captain—we’ve arrested the suspect. We’re in Commander Hagen’s office. We’ll hold her until you get here.”
“My office?” Hagen said.
“Good work, Chief!” said the Captain, getting to his feet. “We’ll be right there.”
***
The door to Hagen’s office opened, and Captain Manning and Commander Hagen came though. Then, they stopped.
There were three Starfleet Security officers inside: Chief Guzman, Lieutenant-Commander Hardcastle, and Lieutenant-Commander Tomak.
Hagen was the first to recover from her surprise. “Chief,” she said. “You said you had the suspect in custody.”
“Yes, I did,” the Chief said. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a shock. The woman you’re looking for is Commander Hagen.”
Hagen and Manning looked at each other. “Chief,” said the Captain, slowly. “That’s a very serious charge.”
“I know, sir. I wouldn’t be making it unless I had the evidence.”
“Evidence?” Hagen said. “What evidence? I’ve been in the Control Centre with Mrs. Patterson, the antique shop owner, for the past half hour.”
“I’m not saying that the Commander is Teresa Avila,” said Guzman. “But she’s the killer, nonetheless.”
“I’m the killer?” said Commander Hagen. “Why would I kill Ensign York?”
“Blackmail,” said Guzman. “Commander Hagen has been authorizing irregular performance bonuses for Ensign York. Accounting will verify that.”
“Ridiculous,” Hagen said.
“Is it?” The Chief nodded toward Hagen’s desk. “The proof’s in that desk drawer. Go ahead and look.”
Hagen started forward, then stopped, and put her hands behind her back. “I don’t have to look.”
“Are you sure?”
“I know what’s in my own desk.”
Hardcastle said: “You’re afraid to open that drawer, Commander. Why?”
“Because we found something in there,” said Guzman.
Hardcastle reached into the desk, took out a piece of jewelry, and put it on the desktop. “One of the Cardassian hairclips that Teresa Avila was wearing when she was seen with Ensign York. Where would Commander Hagen get this, except from York’s quarters?”
The Captain said: “York’s neighbour might have discovered it—brought it here.”
“York’s neighbour?” said Guzman. “You mean, Lieutenant Grattard?”
“Is that what Commander Hagen told you, Captain?” said Hardcastle. “That Lieutenant Grattard contacted her this morning?”
“Of course,” the Captain said. Hagen glanced at him, surprised.
“Then Commander Hagen was lying,” said Hardcastle. “Lieutenant Grattard is away on leave. On Earth. She’s been gone for a week.
The Captain started to speak, then stopped. After a moment, he moved over to a visitor’s chair, sat down, and stared at the floor.
“Captain?” said Commander Hagen. “Are you all right?”
Lieutenant-Commander Tomak spoke up. “The evidence is inconclusive, of course. Nonetheless, we should contact Starbase Eight, and inform the sector office of the Judge Advocate General, at once.”
Hagen looked up. “I don’t think so, Commander. In fact, I think you’ve all lost your minds.” Realization dawned on her face. Her eyes hardened. “You know, Hardcastle—you fit the physical description we were given for Teresa Avila. Maybe we should let Mrs. Patterson have a look at you.”
Hardcastle turned to Captain Manning. “Captain?”
Hagen tapped her combadge. “Hagen to Falkingham.”
“Falkingham here.”
“Commander, send an Emergency response team to my office at once.”
“Belay that,” said Manning.
“Sir?”
Manning raised his head. “Commander Falkingham,” he said, slowly. “This is the Captain. Belay Commander Hagen’s order. You and your men can stand down.”
“Captain!” said Hagen, pointing at Hardcastle. “She’s the one! We can get through this!”
The Captain got to his feet and straightened his tunic. “Computer,” he said. “This is the Captain. Cancel red alert.”
“Captain!”
“Susan…,” said Manning, looking at Hagen, patting her on the shoulder. “Susan, you’re the most loyal subordinate I’ve ever had. And I’m not going to let you down.”
Hagen looked confused. “What do you mean?” she said.
Manning turned to the remaining officers. “Commander Hardcastle—Commander Tomak—Chief—Ensign York wasn’t blackmailing Commander Hagen. I told her to pay him those bonuses. Paul and I—we’d had a—relationship. A sexual relationship. He was blackmailing me.”
“Captain,” said Hagen, “you don’t have to do this—”
“I guess it’s no secret how Commander Hagen feels about me. She hated Paul. She was trying to protect me. To protect my career. She went too far.”
Hagen’s eyes widened. “Norman?” she said.
Manning looked at her. “I’m so sorry, Susan,” he said. “This is all my fault. But you won’t be alone. I’ll find you the best advocate in Starfleet.”
For a moment, Hagen just stood there, blinking. Then she smiled, weakly. “Thank you, Norman,” she said.
Commander Tomak said: “I will contact—”
The phaser beam hit Captain Manning in the chest, hurling him back against the wall. An alarm went off.
Chief Guzman went for his dart gun. Commander Hagen pointed her Type-I phaser at him. “Freeze!” she said.
The Chief stopped. Hagen covered Tomak and Hardcastle. “Don’t move,” she said.
Hardcastle was holding up her hands. “Commander,” she said. “Put the phaser down.”
Hagen looked at Manning’s body, on the floor, then back to Hardcastle. Her eyes were shining with tears. But she smiled, again.
“Men,” she said.
Then she put the phaser to her head, and shot herself.
THE END
(Adapted from John Farrow’s The Big Clock (1948))
Wow!
I certainly wasn't expecting that. It looks like Sundancer will need to replace it's two senior officers, a starship and Jaffar is owed by Hardcastle and Guzman.
Nice.
I certainly wasn't expecting that. It looks like Sundancer will need to replace it's two senior officers, a starship and Jaffar is owed by Hardcastle and Guzman.
Nice.
A real nail-biter this one. Jaffar didn't have much more than a supporting role but that was alright, I liked Hardcastle as the protagonist just fine.
I was a bit suprised that Hagen didn't find any of Hardcastle's DNA when she visited the quarters. If not on the hairclip then why not check the bodily fluids that had been left at the crime scene? A DNA test of those should have given her Hardcastle right away. On the other hand nobody here is a real investigator which became especially clear when the security officers assigned to the case were a bit slow to connect the dots.
For Hardcastle to face Manning and Hagen was a big gamble but one that ultimately payed of. Well, if you can call a murder-suicide a pay off.
I also think that Hardcastle and Jaffar will devlelop some more mutal respect for each other after this incident. She kinda owes him. It be interesting to see how this will shape their future relationship.
I thoroughly enjoyed this story from start to finish.
What a terrific thriller.
I was a bit suprised that Hagen didn't find any of Hardcastle's DNA when she visited the quarters. If not on the hairclip then why not check the bodily fluids that had been left at the crime scene? A DNA test of those should have given her Hardcastle right away. On the other hand nobody here is a real investigator which became especially clear when the security officers assigned to the case were a bit slow to connect the dots.
For Hardcastle to face Manning and Hagen was a big gamble but one that ultimately payed of. Well, if you can call a murder-suicide a pay off.
I also think that Hardcastle and Jaffar will devlelop some more mutal respect for each other after this incident. She kinda owes him. It be interesting to see how this will shape their future relationship.
I thoroughly enjoyed this story from start to finish.
What a terrific thriller.
Yes. That was the biggest problem with Hagen's plan: neither she nor her officers are trained criminal investigators; that's why she only thought to check for DNA later--too late, as it turned out. As prison guards, visual surveillance is what they know, and what they're good at, and ultimately what they fell back on.
Plus, it's pretty unusual to get DNA from vomit. Hagen may not even have known it was possible. But she would know the value of a hair follicle, so she grabbed the hairclip as soon as she saw it.
Thanks!
It was indeed worth the wait.
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