Put a Name to Fear - Part 1

Posted on Sun 4th Oct, 2020 @ 4:50pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Renato Solis
Edited on on Wed 7th Oct, 2020 @ 1:17am

1,021 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Denouement
Location: Brown Sector ("Midnight)"
Timeline: MD-22, 2330 hours

{Sector 221-B "Midnight" 23:30}

Renato whistled into the dark, for a corridor with no breeze something rustled just past the shadow trailing behind. Several labyrinthine passages where panels and lights had been stripped, or ODN lines removed by force dotted the landscapes of this sector. The lighting was already diminished, at night, it became even worse. He tried the various gangs call signs, hoping for a counter call. Trill whistling gave no replies, save the echoes underscoring how desperately alone this moment left him. Who followed him? Renato used his senses, but past a few feet there was no chance of connecting. The power here was affected by a generator nearby, flickering lights, dead zones and dark peril awaited for the weary traveler.

He wanted to collect any information but there was nothing to listen. No footfall, no breathing. He resolved to pick up the pace, and reached into his pocket for the stunner palm phaser. He had reason to believe this shadow knew of the purpose for tonight's meeting with Commander Graves, and whether it meant good or ill remained to be seen. Almost at a jog, the feeling of eyes boring into him compelled his steps faster.

An electric sense overcame the edges of his awareness. Someone was broadcasting strong emotions, directed towards the target, hostile. The palm stunner came out, concealed as it was along his forearm, the nozzle barely peeking from his cuff. Footfalls were not evident, antigrav sled, repulsor boots, a few options came to mind which were also silent. Which meant stairs were probably an issue. His mental layout told him the nearest populated area was a 2 minute run if he bolted flat out. Renato ruled that out as well it may just earn him a shot between the shoulder blades.

Play coy, take the next right and enter the warehouse, follow path through twisted corridors, ascertain followers identity.

His game-plan executed flawlessly, stepping into the cargo bay with apportioned units arrayed in a honeycomb structure rife with dark corners, it was akin to eluding the spider by running into an ant den. To his dismal reminiscent mind, the times he had spent in dark holes like this returned. Unbidden memories of his tragic life would have to wait, as he found an empty alcove to duck into. He had five strong shots, and there was only one door. But after ten minutes, doubt had overcome him. Was this paranoia. Was anyone following him?

Deciding to compose himself, he stuck his head into the dark place, scanning with his senses but only detecting the poor wretch who was here before anyone else.

Somebody had been following, Renato was certain.

{Renato's Office}

More emotional than he needed to be, he forgot to monitor the time. It was that reliable heel-strike that reminded him Paul was coming for another visit. With just a moment to spare Renato ran to the refrigerator, where Kya had left a tray of honey and crispy wafers, fruit. He took a precious moment aside to bless her, she kept him functional. He ran back to the office and slicked his hair into place as the front door opened.

Paul entered the community center wearing civilian clothes and carrying a cloth bag slung over one shoulder that contained snacks and tea. He walked back toward Renato's office and knocked on the door. "Renato?"

Trying to look normal makes a person look strained and awkward, Renato was no exception. He answered, "I'm fine, good to see you Paul. Please take a seat anywhere you like."

The spartan office with just a desk and two chairs on the other side of it was all the furniture there was. The sounds of the sleeping building were audible through the walls, but the silence was apparent. Renato usually had music playing, to baffle the eavesdroppers and create white noise. He also usually made sure the desk was tidy, and the door was open. The messy desk had Kya's wondrous snack plate haphazardly resting which Renato hastily replaced onto level open surface area and removed the cover. Something was wrong here.

"What happened?" Paul asked, for clearly something had. If the disarray in Renato's office hadn't told him that, the disarray in Renato's emotions would have. His people couldn't read Ullian emotions, but those who were half-Betazoid could. Renato was on high alert, every sense as tightly strung as a violin. Paul removed from his bag a container of sandwiches, and a flask of ginger tea. "Want to tell me about it?"

Renato didn't take anything, he just slumped into his chair, exhausted.

"I wish I knew for sure, but I just had the scare of my life, as I was certainly just followed. I think I was. I was in the warrens, over in 220-a. It's my old... stomping grounds. I know it well, and since I've begun pulling the threads on Oblivion I can't shake the eyes on the back of my head. Or am I mad?"

"I remember that area," Paul said with a nod. "Exactly what strings are you pulling?"

"I've got shuttle logs I asked for, people I paid for information that might've taken me for a fool but I planted trackers on them, marked money... a few strings. I think I have something too, which is why I'm unable to divorce the idea of paranoia or genuine concern. I'm just glad my counselor is here."

He joked halfway as he reached for a sandwich. Food was the way he curbed the desire to get high, heart disease wasn't a concern in the 24th century so as a vice, it was a good one.

Paul frowned and considered what to say as he poured tea for them both. "Renato, investigate Oblivion with great caution. I've been learning about the place over the past couple of weeks. One of its inhabitants has--an extremely callous disregard for life, the worst I've ever seen. If you pose a threat to that person, you will disappear. You're an Ullian and thus too tempting for this person to not find some way to use you."

 

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