Revelations, Chapter 2
Posted on Mon 14th Sep, 2020 @ 8:51am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Captain Andrus Grax & Lieutenant Damion Ildaran
1,711 words; about a 9 minute read
Mission:
Resolution
Location: Intelligence Department, Interview Room 1
Timeline: MD 3, 1350
Previous revelations led Dr. Addams to a conclusion ....
Another implication occurred to the physician. Briggs was being haunted by a woman -- his possibly-late wife -- who did not behave at all in the way Addams expected ghosts to behave. Chlamydia cleared her throat. "I suspect I know the point of that experiment... or at least, its results."
Damion shot a surprised glance at Chlamydia. "You do?" He almost said, "Enlighten me." But he decided that conversation would be best held in more privacy than the interview room accorded. "Could you draw a sketch of the devices you saw that could separate a life force from a physical body?" he asked the woman he knew as Zelda.
"Possibly. I'm not the greatest artist, but I can at least give you a rough idea. Later. Let me concentrate more on it after we finish here." She looked at the doctor. She'd said she knew something of the results of what the evil wanted to accomplish. How could she know that? How could any sane person have any idea about what those men were doing? She suppressed a shudder, and looked at her barrister, silently asking, And you? Do you know something of these men's doings, as well? Her trust was limited and even that was being undermined.
"Let's get on with the rest of your questions," Helle said, turning back to the interrogator.
"Aye, later. I'm sure we can find an artist somewhere," Damion said with a nod.
"Somewhere," Chlamydia agreed, glancing at Ischemia with well-concealed amusement. She had caught Alegari's slight frown, the flick of her eyes. Something had bothered the woman. Of course we're not normal, she thought with amusement at what she imagined the woman across the table was thinking. We've seen horrors most people never know -- and then we finished grade school.
"So you and the other captives were brought to the cobbled-together space station, on the Aenar's ship, the Diamond Drill," Damion continued, to remind himself of what Morrigan had said before. He was beginning to wonder if this was Morrigan, though; she seemed more lively, somehow.
"This construct is not attached to any sort of asteroid or other land mass at all. 'Tis, as far as you could tell, nothing but a collection of ships docked at a common habitat cylinder or hallway-type structure? I'm just trying to get the image clear in my mind. And the person responsible for these experiments is not the Aenar. This person carries out his or her research and lives on one of those docked ships, which you think incorporates parts taken from the USS Cairo? And this person is one of the four people whose images Dr. Addams showed you? Not the coughing woman, but someone else."
The researcher having a ship could be a bloody mess, if true. It meant the blaggard could get away with little difficulty.
In the observation room, Captain Grax stood alongside Paul Graves, Jason Fisher and Adam Keller. "Why do I know that word?" he muttered out loud. He turned to Jason Fisher, who had already turned to one of the terminals and begun a search.
"I've got a match," Fisher said, "But I don't have clearance."
Grax rounded the terminal and keyed in a few commands. There was a short dull beep, but no change to the display. "Okay," said Grax, to no one in particular, "If I've not got access to this, then there's some serious riik[1] going on here." He didn't try any further, rather he turned his attention back to Fisher. "Find out who has clearance to that file - I want to see it."
Fisher nodded and began working.
Grax resumed his place next to Graves, he didn't need telepathy to tell just how concerned the counselor was.
"Essentially, that's correct," Helle agreed. "I don't know if any of the ships were operational. I couldn't tell that. I did see some welded spots, but ... it's a place you have to see to understand. The Aenar isn't one of the brains of things. He's more like a ... lackey, I guess you'd say, someone with a certain skill set. Evil, but not the source."
She was becoming impatient, not a good idea with these people, but she wanted to be done with all of this, to be out of here. Maybe to be free and find a place to hide, a place where no one could find her again ... could find any of them.
Damion thought for another couple of minutes. Ought he to ask about the 'misfiled' autopsy reports? Was there even any point to doing that? "I'm not certain who I'm speaking with, right now. Ye don't seem exactly like Morrigan--or you're Morrigan on a really good day--which I don't see how today could be. If you're not Morrigan, do you need introductions?"
In her corner, Muffet listened to the question, and its answer. Should she, she wondered, be pleased that her presence had contributed to the revelation of another personality, or irked that she'd done it by playing on a common species phobia for Humans? Not that she didn't do that sometimes for fun, but... it still didn't feel right.
"I'm not, and I don't," the prisoner answered. "I'm Helle, and I'll be dealing with your team until we're safely away from here. I keep my sisters safe, and no more needs to be said about that. What else do you need from us?" Her sense of unease was growing, and she really wanted to get out of here, talk to her lawyer about that possible ticket to freedom, but she knew she had to be released by this man ... and others who watched without showing their faces.
As she spoke, Damion danced his fingers over his PADD, bringing up an encrypted file. "I'm glad to meet you, Helle. Wish it were under better circumstances. I've something for you to read, if you would. It's--appalling reading. I need to find out if this is related to anything in your experience. I dinna ken if 'tis evidence or rubbish. I just know it sounds related."
Helle swallowed a sigh. "Sure, I'll look at your reports. I doubt that it can be more appalling that what I already have seen and experienced, but if it is, you can pay for the drugs that suppress it." She was joking, but she didn't smile to give him a clue. "Is this a little light reading to take home with me?"
"It shouldn't take more than about five minutes to read, if that," Damion said. "It was found in a corrupted file, so there's not much." He handed his PADD to her, opened to the set of three autopsy reports that Elizabeth had shared with him.
Taking the PADD from him, Helle turned it in her direction and began to read. He was right. There wasn't much to the files that was readable. Putting it with what she had seen and experienced added a little more depth to the information contained on the PADD. When she finished, she leaned back, setting the PADD on the table and pushing it aside. She closed her eyes and thought about the horror behind the stark words she'd read. Could this have been what she'd seen happening?
Finally, the woman opened her eyes and began to speak. "This is not what I saw. However, the mind that created these results could easily be the mind that created what I saw. There were restraints, but not primitive ropes. I saw no evidence of cutting on the ... subjects in the room. They were in a circle, their feet a pointed toward the middle, toward each other. I could clearly see some of them as I was led through the room toward a door at the rear. I don't know whether they didn't care that I saw, or whether they expected whatever drugs they used to wipe my memory ... which they did for what was done to me ... but not what I saw. A difference between visual memory and experiential memory, perhaps?"
Chlamydia smoothly intercepted the PADD as it came back across the table. She glanced at it, then frowned, looked more closely.
Helle frowned, thinking of something else. "The bodies seemed unnaturally still, I remember. I wondered if they were even alive."
"That would fit with the notion of people whose minds had been separated from their bodies, I would think," Damion pointed out. "Do you know the name of the--drifter colony--you were brought to, or the name of the person in charge of these so-called experiments?"
Ha, you're trying to trip me up! Helle thought, feeling vindicated for her lack of trust in these people. "As I told you before, I don't know either one of those pieces of information. If I ever knew, it was forgotten with the drugs they used on me. The best I can do is work with your artist to try to show you what little I remember."
Ischemia, too, had noted the repeated questions slipped into the conversation. "Perhaps it's time to break for the day," she said. "My client is tired, and she should rest before working with the artist we have in mind to help her. Why don't we adjourn until tomorrow morning?"
"I had hoped to finish all of this today, but I admit I wouldn't mind that," Damion said. "We've been at this for three hours, and I'm tired, too. It's almost dinner time. I need to give a lot of thought to this new line of questioning and consult with some experts--after I work out how to consult with them. Shall we say 9:00am tomorrow? Or after you've met with your artist?"
"Yes, let's say that," the lawyer replied, motioning to her client to rise with her.
"All right. 0900, then. Dr. Addams, I'd like to talk with you a moment before you leave, please.," Damion said to the Chief Medical Officer.
"Yes," Chlamydia said, her own tone indicating that she had scraps of flesh to ply from bone.
[1] A Betazoid cuss word.
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