Herro?

Posted on Mon 15th Jun, 2020 @ 9:17pm by Lieutenant JG Kellian Michaels
Edited on on Sun 28th Jun, 2020 @ 6:16am

1,837 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Timeline: MD-1, 2

Previously, in the Forensics Lab...

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get Lt. Commander Jekkar's input on this," Kellian said. "This is Cottman IV-level psionics. It takes a lot of energy to do what that perp did. I know at one time there were Andorians who were supposedly telepathic, but this is far beyond telepathy."

Kellian paused as he reached the doorway. "You know...Belay that. I don't see a need to go off half-cocked to Jekkar with a story that I can't prove. He'd be the first one to tell me that, too. I know what it looks like to me, but it's also probable I've read way too much science fiction. I'll just show him the recording and see what he thinks. I'll see you when you're done putting out the BOLO."

On his way out, Kellian quickly glanced at the bowl Muffet had been eating out of. Maybe it was tofu? He couldn't tell.

Muffet sighed and watched the holo again. She did't know what the Andorian had used to kill his victim, but the angles lined up, and she had nothing else. "When you have eliminated the impossible," she murmured, leaving the investigator's mantra unfinished as she pulled up a BOLO[1] form and filled it out with the Andorian's particulars. A few minutes later, she flicked it to the dispatcher's attention, and to the distribution list for all patrolling provost's officers. One of her peripheral eyes picked up motion, and she turned to smile as Michaels returned. "Good timing."

Kellian gave Muffet a wry look. "Jekkar's not in. I can't find him anywhere, so I guess we're stuck with our own ingenuity. I'm not feeling terribly ingenious at the moment; are you?" He sighed. "I've been trying to figure out how this crime could have been done without high-powered psionics."

Muffet picked up her large, wide-mouthed bowl and the spoon, took a bite. "I honestly have no idea," she answered. "My team found no physical evidence. No impact site other than on the cadaver. No projectile. There's no propellant flash. He doesn't seem to have a device in his hand." She leaned forward, ran the vid again. "You see? He opens his fingers after the incident, and nothing falls. We searched the waste receptacles in a reasonable walking distance, and none of them record recycling anything unusual."

Kellian studied the video as Muffet replayed it. "I wonder if environmental scans for that timestamp might have recorded any temperature changes. That would at least indicate friction of air molecules as something passed through them. It doesn't necessarily rule out psionics, but it might give us a lead, something we could put before a judge "

Muffet shook her head. "If we caught it live, we could do that kind of scan. But this is a public access area of the promenade; we don't have sensors that fine operating on a casual basis." She sighed, closed the video. "I think we're going to have to file that one as 'interesting, but unsolved' until he does it again, or we catch up to him."

Kellian sighed in agreement. "That always used to be the hell of tracking down serial killers--that you had to let them establish enough of a pattern to learn about them so you could figure out how to catch them. So what can we figure out from this guy's personality, just by watching the security footage? To me he looks daring. Knows how to take a calculated risk but doesn't just put himself out there to be caught. He knows how to hide in plain sight, and he very effectively melted into the crowd after this killing."

Kellian went to a desk monitor. "Computer, display demographic information for recently deceased station visitor Stonk." He attempted to pronounce the Vulcan surname but shook his head as he did so. "Some Vulcan deity is going to strike me down for willful surname mangling."

He studied the information that displayed on the monitor. As Muffet had said earlier, the man had only arrived on Starbase 109 about 90 minutes before his death. "If he was here to study endangered species, what was he doing on Deck 668? I mean, do Vulcans relax their logic-devotion to the extent of sightseeing? He showed hardly any reaction to pain from the attack--so he either felt none, or he follows Surak's teachings. I'm taking Occam's Razor and going with the latter presumption." Kellian shrugged to himself. That might be the wrong approach, but it was a working hypothesis and could be disproved if need be.

"So... you're suggesting what?" Muffet gave Kellian a loaded glance. "That our vic was here for some purpose other than the stated? Maybe he wanted a map, or a meeting with one of the conservators? His reasons for being where he was are potentially multiple and various. I'm not saying it's not worth looking into; I'm saying it will take more time than the forensic lab has. Do you know any investigators who can afford to invest that kind of time?"

"Not without something more concrete to go on," Kellian said. "I'm not suggesting that; I'm wondering if. It's probably thin threads but something that should be checked just to rule it out. The obvious starting point would be to talk to the starbase conservatories. What investigator has been assigned to the case?"

Muffet looked at the file, and made a face. "Looks like Briggs," she answered. She didn't have any reason to dislike the shift boss; he was a hard worker, and seemed to be a good copper, but there was something... creepy... about the man. Like something dead was hanging about in the air every time she spoke to him. Which wasn't scientific at all, at all, but....

"Okay. I guess it's off my plate, then. Too bad, because I would really like to know how this guy killed the Vulcan. That was beyond bizarre."

Muffet made a sound of agreement, picking up her mowlg. As she scraped the spoon around inside, scooping up the last of her snack, she promised, "if the file crosses my desk again, I'll flag it for your attention."

"Thanks," Kellian said and then paused. No guts, no glory. "What were you having for lunch?"

"Curds and whey," Muffet answered, batting her eyelashes at the investigation officer. With the extra eyes, it was quite a sight. "Also known as cottage cheese." She laughed, and then added, "with flies mixed in."

Kellian made a face at the mention of flies and then chuckled. "Cottage cheese sounds great. You're welcome to all the musca domestica. So if I wanted to invite you to dinner and a forensics lecture, what restaurants would you enjoy that I could also eat at?"

Muffet laughed. "I was teasing about the flies; they were just raisins." Then her brain finished processing what Kellian had actually said. All eight of her eyes got bigger, and her voice squeaked as she asked, "Are you? Are you inviting me? Are you asking me out... on a date?" No one had ever asked Muffet out on a date. At the academy, she'd once accidentally overheard two humanoid men boys males joking about her probable desire to wrap them in silk and hang them upside down while sucking out vital fluids. As far as she knew, that was the closest anyone had ever come to having romantic feelings toward her.

"Is there someone else in the room?" Kellian asked with a burgeoning smile. "Yes, it's a date. Not a romantic date, because I don't believe in getting romantically involved with co-workers, but yes, Muffet, I'd love to go out for the evening with you, if you're interested."

"Oh," Muffet said, turning her head away to hide her disappointment. It seemed her dateless streak would be continuing. "Yeah, sure," she said, trying to sound flippant. "I'm an omnivore; whatever you like to eat is jake by me."

Was that--disappointment in her voice? "I was trying to figure out if you would enjoy Orchids & Jazz," Kellian said. "But I don't know if you like jazz music or the food they serve there."

Muffet cleared her throat, then coughed, and cleared her throat again. "Sorry," she said, getting herself under control and pasting a smile back on her face as she turned to face Kellian again. "I'm easy; whatever makes you happy tickles me plumb unto death."

"Wait," Kellian said. "would you date me if we weren't co-workers, despite the fact that I'm not an Arachnae? Because I would absolutely date you."

"Kellian," Muffet said, sounding exasperated, "I've never even met another Arachnae." She paused. "Well. Except my mother, I suppose. My biological mother. I mean, I had to have met her, right?" She waved a hand dismissively. "If so, it was before I can remember. My family... the Langstons? They're Human. My Mom, my Dad, my Uncle Bob and Aunt Judy? Human."

"Ah," Kellian nodded. "I'd wondered how you got the name Langston and figured maybe you had been adopted, but I didn't realize you'd never met another Arachne. All right, here's the deal. I've wanted to take you out for a long time, but I hardly ever date, and I don't romantically date people I work with. I served at a posting where that happened, and it was not good. Everyone gossiped about the couple, and it was ugly gossip. I would never want to subject someone I cared about to that. Also, obviously, there are the physical differences, but when it comes to you, the person, I don't care about that. You're a total delight to work with, Muffet. I look forward to coming to the lab every day, because I get to see you and solve crimes with you. I'd like to take you someplace that you would consider special and enjoyable, someplace that's meaningful to you. Not just, 'Oh, wherever you want, Kellian.'"

Muffet just looked at Michaels for a long moment, sorting possible responses in her head. Wait right here while I go resign my commission and Mama always said people of good intent can find some way to exchange bodily pleasure were among the top contenders, but she let them both go unvoiced. Either would be getting way ahead of what was happening. "I'm a giant spider named 'Muffet,' Kellian. They're going to gossip anyway. But truly... Orchids and Jazz is fine. I've never actually been there, but everything I've heard indicates that the food and the music are reliably good." She shrugged.

"All right, as long as you know it doesn't have to be specifically there," Kellian said. "The lecture takes place on the fifth, at 1930 hours. Shall I come by your quarters at 1730?"

---

1) "Be On the Look Out," also called an "All-Points Bulletin" or APB in some places.

 

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