Peering Through the Fog

Posted on Mon 4th Dec, 2017 @ 11:28pm by Colonel Horatio Drake & Commander Mikaela Locke & Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Lieutenant Commander Andrew Eberstark & Lieutenant Commander Alora Baro & Commander Jasmine Collins-Keller & Lieutenant Anjohl Gaden MD

1,610 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: A Phaser as Deadly as a Candlestick
Location: The Addams House
Timeline: Early hours of the Day of the Dead

The most respected and prominent individuals of Starbase Vanguard's population sat around a table, in a room lit only by candles and a fireplace, on the darkest night of the old Earth year. On the table stood a Bajoran duranja, its candle lit and burning. Beside it stood a ball of flawless quartz crystal, forty centimeters in diameter, seated upon an ornate golden filigree base.

On one side of the table sat a woman, thin but curvaceous, with pale skin and black hair. In a loud, clear, commanding tone she called, "Spirits within our home, I call you from the dark. Ceoli couris, ferimani botani ... Come forth and speak!" Eyes closed, she gave the final call, "I feel your strength, but if you cannot speak, knock three times!"

The crystal ball clouded over like a storm glass before an approaching blizzard. Seemingly from within it came three slow, distinct knocks, as of a ram against a gate.

Lanis blinked in startlement. He had not expected anything to happen inside the crystal sphere; it was just a ball of glass, as far as he knew. Now fog had billowed up from inside it somehow. The three knocks he could attribute to theatrics, just as the fireplace and candles lighting had been, but the fog inside the crystal...that was eerie.

"Ah," Ischemia said softly, opening her eyes at the sound which couldn't be ignored, "someone knocks. There is a presence in the glass."

Mikaela Locke raised an eyebrow in the direction of Colonel Drake, and then glanced across the table to see how Jade Lantz and Andrew Eberstark were reacting. She reflected on the amount of trouble that the the Addams sisters had gone to to create an authentic experience, but couldn't quite bring herself to believe there was any real mysticism going on.

Serena squeezed Reon's hand tighter at the knocking.

"Hey," he whispered, only half in jest, "leave me some feeling in that hand, will ya? You know they are doing this, right?"

Serena's grip relaxed slightly. "Are you sure?" Her hand tightened on his again. "Look at that! You can't tell me that isn't happening!"

Within the glass, the fog roiled. Some of it receded, while other bits became more solid. A skull formed, its jaw open as if crying out in agony. Later, every participant would recall that its face had been pointed directly at them, the empty eye sockets focused on their eyes. The skull shrank, or receded, gaining skin and human features. A man: young, but not so young that he had not begun to feel disillusioned with life. A hat: a fedora, or a trilby, on the back of his head at an arrogant angle. A chair: wooden, with arms, to which his arms were bound. He's talking, without sound.

Impressions in the fog. A woman standing in front of him. He's focused on her breasts. They're large. She's large, taller than he is, but then... he's seated. Two presences, behind him. Men? In suits? And then the man in the chair smirked and spoke again. Though there is no sound, the witnesses will later say that he said, "So, what? You're going to kill me for it?" And she does. A long, thin blade -- a letter opener, a stiletto, something thin and strong and sharp, held in her strong hand, plunges into the right side of his neck, through the jugular vein and the carotid artery, through the cartilage of his windpipe, ending up at the hyoid bone. His mouth opens in a rictus of agony, and the flesh melts away. The skull swells again, filling the ball.

Only Chlamydia heard it -- the sound of wings. But within the ball, the skull dissolves into feathers, and the feathers fade into fog. "He has gone beyond our reach," Chlamydia murmurs.

What struck Paul, more than any of the visual or sound effects of the seance, was the Presence roaring into his mind with the force of a loud clarion call as the skull expanded and began 'growing' a young man's face of skin and muscles. He was there as it happened, feeling all of it--cocky, self-assured, all but rolling his eyes at the full-breasted woman as she leaned over him--or, at least, doing his level best to appear nonchalant. Damn, she has a nice rack-- And then the blade went into its victim, and Paul realized that 'he' really was about to die as pain that he wouldn't have believed possible rammed through his neck and into his windpipe. And, with his windpipe pierced, he couldn't even scream from it.

Got to withdraw! he thought before the room went fuzzy.

He came to a moment later to find his face smashed into the table as the rest of him shook. Slowly, Paul raised his head. "Who was that guy? Do we know?" Around him, everyone was a tangle of startled and frightened and whatjusthappened?! He rebuilt his shields and slowly blocked most of it out.

"Let me get you some water," Purulence Addams said and bolted from the table with surprising agility for one of her weight. She returned a moment later with a filled tumbler, and Paul gulped the water down.

"Sorry. I'll be okay," Paul muttered to the other guests as he finally set the glass on the table. "That was...unexpected."

Alora sat quietly looking as stunned as anyone, all she could think at first was an inane, "I wish I had brought a tricorder....." then she said softly in quiet lyrical Bajoran before the sacred flame of the dead in the Duranja, "raka-ja ut shala morala... ema bo roo kana... uranak... propeh va nara ehsuk shala-kan vunek ..." A prayer which translated loosely as, "do not let him walk alone... guide him on his journey... protect...take him into the gates of heaven..." and added a bit more which translated into, "unless he be not worthy, then guide him unto judgement." because to be fair she had no idea what just happened or the circumstances however a Bajoran didn't just not offer a prayer for the dead at such a time, better safe than sorry. She spoke sincerely before becoming more fully aware of her surroundings after a moment. She then turned her attention to Lt. Commander Graves in concern.

"He is not known to me," Chlamydia answered Paul's question. "But the dead who desire to communicate often wish to tell the story of their death or to resolve some piece of unfinished business. Alas; there is no way of knowing how far removed from us in space or time this event was. All we know is that the victim wanted someone to know he was gone."

Jade, slightly shaken by the event shown in the ball, agreed, "I think we all know it now. I hope that satisfies him. It was ... a horrible way to die." Turning to the lieutenant, she said, "Do you know if it has anything to do with a case here on Vanguard? Maybe a cold case file, if not something current?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow at her question. He wasn't exactly making the same leap to reality that Jade was, and certainly not trying to connect the dots to Vanguard. Nevertheless, the experience and her question left him somewhat intrigued, "Well, I suppose anything is possible, but nothing I'm aware of. I'll just say I hope it has nothing to do with Vanguard in the present," pausing, "Assuming this is in fact, a real sequence of events we just witnessed."

Gaden was duly impressed. He'd come here mostly as a lark. True, he believed in the supernatural, he even had read a lot about different Terran religions. They did have a wide variety of supposed Gods. He just didn't, or hadn't, believe in ghosts and things that go bump in the night. So, he'd been surprised to see such a manifestation. Still not fully convinced, he sat back a little in his chair waiting to see what would happen next.

Next to Alora, Lanis clasped her hand and joined her in prayer under his breath. it was a relief to have someone's hand to hold, a welcome reminder of the physical, tangible world and a reminder that one's heart still beat; one's lungs still drew breath. Maybe that was why everyone was supposed to hold hands in the first place, Lanis thought, to stay grounded. He shot a quick glance at the Chief Counselor, who still didn't look all that good but at least was conscious now and able to speak.

Lanis let the victim's death experience replay in his mind, memorizing it. He had already made plans to recite the Death Chant in his quarters later, for the person he hoped to send greetings to this evening. Now he decided to add the unknown murder victim to his prayers.

Once everyone seemed settled, he glanced at Chlamydia. "Are you comfortable continuing?" he asked.

"There are yet clouds in the glass," Chlamydia answered calmly. "The spirits have not departed. If you'll all return your concentration, we may proceed."

Jasmine had been stunned to witness what she had but not frightened. She assumed everyone had seen the same thing. Adam wasn't pleased with anything that he'd just seen and being trained to protect, he wanted nothing more than to pull Jasmine from the table and the room but Jasmine was enthralled and wanted to see more.

"I'm game if you are," Carlo muttered to Reon and Serena. Across the table from them, Paul nodded to Chlamydia that he was willing to continue.

 

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