The “Milli-Cochrane Caper” {Act 2.1}

Posted on Sun 1st Nov, 2020 @ 1:01pm by Renato Solis & Commander Paul Graves PsyD
Edited on on Sun 1st Nov, 2020 @ 1:26pm

1,587 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Denouement
Location: Brown Sector: Section 221-b "Midnight"
Timeline: MD2 2300 hours

-Start-

{Tivoli Gardens}

T'less twirled under the simulated starlight. She was delighted to feel grass under her toes, and sang to her self as violin played in the dim lighting and haze. A laser light pattern decorated the fog, and invigorated the eye with fractal patterns and pleasing geometry. T'less was also a fair bit drunk, and so the simple pleasures were all the better.

She lay in the grass, remembering the warmth of Morani's lips, the music he made as he breathed on her neck, a warmth and embrace that lifted her thoughts in song. His hard stomach was a particular note she dwelled on, and the feeling of strength in those biceps was palpable. Her eyes took in the skylight above, noting the syncopation and rhythm was actually very low effort.

To nobody but herself she half spoke aloud, "At least match the music if you must have twinkling."

Sadly these were her final words for the world. Her only sensation was a mounting static feeling, as her synapses overloaded. A stroke began from her telepathic cortex and she went into spasms immediately. Romulans had little control over their telepathic abilities, largely vestigial as they were. The dying brain formed a final thought, taking in the bright imagery of the being who had killed her.

"CORMALINE 622," a scream, wailing from another plain of existence sent her to her maker with a ghastly image to behold. She saw a man dissolving particle by particle, the bright light strobing the whole park. "RUN/NO/STOP" The voice disappeared in the haze as T'less twitched in the supple green grass.

***

Kya had tucked him in, left water and spoken in gentle whispers to rest. He could never sleep for more than an hour. He had been roped out of any form of investigation into these matters. Moz brought him reports of new sightings and the map of their locations pointed to Brown Sector as a hub. The odd note written in silver marked a spot in Brown Sector, and the phrase "Dewd met devel at crossrohs. Lost sol." started to feel like it pertained to the case. The warehouse was clearly indicated as well. Renato felt the day pass and accomplished nothing in the meantime. his self-imposed house arrest was to allow him to clear his mind but this obsession was only growing. When another report came to him, he hit a breaking point. A young Romulan had been near a sighting, and suffered a stroke. Her telepathic cortex was not disciplined as a Vulcans, the reception of strong signals caused electrical faults. The station had not said it was linked to anything else, and the apparitions sightings on board were not being discussed as more than "whack-jobs in Brow Sector seeing ghosts."

Kya checked to see he was asleep at 0100, and went to bed herself. Renato decided to see what this final clue would reveal. Rickards facial sketch, matched the image Kiro saw before he was blinded. The mental impressions of how angry they had both gotten left him confused, unsure of his actions. This was how it felt when his addictions had spiraled out of control last time. How could a man be his own killer, and what possible connection to these faces did Theo have?

He felt insane, as though the world was fine, and he was the only one out of shape. A man was murdered, it happened from time to time in the Brown Sector, and Renato had never been involved before. Now here he was, looking at hand-made drawings acting like phantom visions he had were actual evidence of a crazy theory. This was insanity, and he felt like taking Kiro's memory against his will had broken whatever budding chance of a reputation he had and crushed it.

A long walk through darkened sectors saw him getting closer to the spot. No answers had come during his somnambulance. He kept walking, 222, 223, 224 had nothing to see. When he arrived at 238, he recognized it. This was an old storage locker and a place far from everyone, no lights, and a warm vibrating deckplate. Returning to the places he used to sleep off the binges put him in a dangerous place. Depression circled his thoughts as a tightening coil, stopping anything pleasant from rising up.

He wept. He silently begged for Amzaine, Ketracel, Cokkan powder, his memories pushed him over the edge. He wept more. Life had pushed him too far, the hope had only been a setup for a greater fall. Remembering why he was here grounded him in the moment holding the darker aspects of his ego at bay. Along with a hundred others he wallowed in misery desperate for escape. He was here for an hour without realizing, until his back hurt from the hard floor. His sense were back, and his mind calm. In a rare stillness Rneato could see the whole room.

Movement stirred in the darkness. Among the wretches, a figure moved in silence. With only one eye focused, the strange man took a seat, exhaling deeply as though exhausted. He came here for the warmth as well, the din of the machines created a white noise, it was a great place to sleep, really. Though across a great distance in the dark, he couldn't help but notice the prominent ears, general size, and skin color.

Both eyes began to focus, though he didn't dare stir. The specter lay down, his face obscured under a hat.

For all the insanity, at his lowest point in a year, Renato had to choose if what he saw was real or imagined. The images on the sketches, the autopsy and biographical data had plenty of pictures of Theophilus. The man who had just sat down twenty meters away also looked like Theophilus.

His memory was flawless, the sketches made, the images on the screens he had been staring at... it was him, that man was Theophilus Bule.

Renato felt the life return in a rush, the manic low converting to a manic high. He stood up, too swiftly as it turned out when he caught the attention of the wary sleeper. With as much distance as was between them, Renato had only begun to start running when the specter bolted as well. Disappearing into shadows. Even with his sense pitched forward he could not sense the man who ran.

His heart was racing, and his thoughts came tumbling. The map of where the station corridors lead had changed slightly, given communities who had blocked hallways and removed walls to open spaces. He assumed Theo was heading into a population center, one with other people who could confirm what they saw. A jump over a half wall, and scurry through a narrow alley formed by ramshuckle huts, saw the gap closed.

He ran at a clip, seeing the path already plowed through the small gathering morning crowd.

What stopped him was the wooden baton of Deputy Houghh. It thunked across his chest, and Renato knew better, he stopped running. His eyes were wild, vivd from the chase. He must hav also looked quite high to the officer.

"Where you off to Rennie, been a while since you had a run from the law, who's chasing ya?"

The old Human had a pot belly and broom like moustache, he glared at the sweaty, and disheveled red eyed crazy man.

"Kenneth right? That man is wanted in connection... to a murder."

Kenneth laughed, "You playing at being a cop for real, I though Kiro was making that up, no way you are investigating a murder, and that poor man doesnt deserve your cracked out brain suspecting him of anything."

Gritting his teeth he could only play the cards he was dealt. He gently pulled the hand holding the baton away, careful to use his ability only sparingly as he asked, "Dark Brown Skin, close cropped hair, mole on right side of face, prominent ear lobes, 6'1"..." The Deputy didn't think any of that was incorrect and so Renato chanced a gambit.

"Detective Rickards drew this sketch, does it match the man you just saw?"

The deputy knew Rickards' sketches by sight, the hand-drawn art style was rare. "Just where did you get that, Rennie?"

"Just answer my question, please. Rickards is looking for information about this man, did he just run past you?"

The deputy was trying to play it off, but the answer "Yes" screamed out in his mind.

Renato felt his heart release, and his stomach unknot. He wasn't crazy. The man was his own killer, but how?

"Oi Rennie, I'm not having this on my watch. Get your ass out of here."

He had been shut down and almost allowed to believe he was an addict tilting at windmills for another fix. This proved his brain was not damaged, there was a connection. This man was three different versions now, a spectral ghost, a dead body, and now a face in the crowd!

His heart was jack hammering as he backed away, Kennth Houghh still deciding if Li Kainon needed to be brought in to talk this junkie down. So he backed away, far enough for the fat man to feel it was too much of a head start to catch up. Thoughts whirling, Renato decided it was time to get a second opinion.

As he considered the case again, Renato sent a message to Paul Graves, the man he need to hear one thing from.

"You're not crazy."

-End-

 

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