More Surprises, Part 1
Posted on Thu 6th Aug, 2020 @ 8:00am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Lieutenant Damion Ildaran
Edited on on Sun 6th Sep, 2020 @ 7:07am
1,207 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Resolution
Location: Intelligence Department, Interview Room 1
Timeline: MD 3, 1230
Previously, in our story, ...
"She is cautiously relieved with the deal. She's feeling optimistic, I think." Adam spoke for the first time in quite a while. He'd been listening and 'reading' the young woman. "I think we might get what we're looking for. She trusts the Addams sisters, but not much of anyone else.
Morrigan took a deep breath and let it out again. Was this the time?
Now to find out what the Alegari/Endrade women have to share.
The prisoner straightened even taller in her seat, and took control of the interview. "Let us begin, then, with the understanding that we will be set free and given ... what is it you Terrans call it? Witness Protection?"
"Yes," Damion said. "That is my understanding, as well."
Keeping her attention focused on Lt. Ildaran, she began a business-like presentation, far more organized than even Morrigan could project. The intelligence people had wanted to get to the core of Zelda Alegari, and now they had. She was capable of mind block, developed after too much exposure to Aenar, and others like them. She threw up only a flimsy block to the men she sensed were behind the wall in the interrogation room, except for a small corner where it was ironclad to keep the most dangerous secret.
Helle Endrade began, as if she were lecturing a college class. "You already know about the Aenar, somewhat. His name is Ther Ch'vehress, but I doubt you'll find him in any of your databases. His ship is known as Diamond Drill, for whatever reason. He's the cause of your pirate problem ... or one group of pirates at any rate.
"I don't know all his activities, nor am I in possession of the name of his home port, but it isn't the Oblivion I've heard you mention, though some of his contacts do live there. Whether that was where we were taken, we truly are not in a position to say. We are not mind readers, like the Aenar.
"You probably know that the species is capable of reading minds and of psychically projecting themselves to other humanoids. That's how he communicated with Zelda at the restaurant where he was observed. Don't be fooled by the Aenar's reputed pacifistic ideology. They can be as ruthless and ... tricky, I suppose, as any Terran. Ch'vehress is particularly ... hmm, cruel, I think is not going too far, when he's in someone's mind. I suspect that any gaps in our memories were from his manipulations.
"What else would you like to know?"
Inwardly, Damion was tallying up the difficulties of bringing in a perp who liked to mess with his victims' minds. "How long ago did you first meet him--or his people?" Damion asked. "And how did you meet them?"
Helle considered that for a moment. "I'm not sure. Time has a way of being meaningless in some situations. I know it's been a long time. I think Zelda met him first ... at some sort of conference, probably plant related. You know she's a gardener at heart, and I hope she can spend years quietly growing her favorite things." A touch of wistfulness, totally out of character with who she was, touched her words. "I believe he was researching plants for medicinal purposes, if I may call it that. Drugging victims, but we didn't know that at the time, of course."
Chlamydia kept her silence, but her disdain was clear on her face. It wasn't that she disliked tradition; of course not. It was that she worshiped at the altar of Science. A common jest from her medical school days came to mind: what do you call alternative medicine that works? The answer, of course, was simply, medicine.
Damion nodded. "I devoutly hope Zelda will be able to spend the rest of her life happily growing plants to her heart's content." He paused for a moment, thinking. "So my impression, then, is that Ch'vehress is a pirate who likes to dabble in pharmaceuticals for nefarious purposes. How does he typically occupy his time?"
"I don't know if I can answer that. I know he spends a lot of time on his ship, and his ship spends a lot of time stealing cargo from other ships. He likes to say he's providing scavenging opportunities for the less fortunate, but of course, he's the one scavenging, and he turns perfectly good ships into salvage with no regard for the life signs aboard. Whether that's his typical occupation, I can't tell you. At the time when we were his prisoner, that was a common pastime," Helle said with disdain.
"I don't know the name of his ship, but I think it's a salvaged model of Starfleet's Akira class, because I saw that word stamped on some parts when a bulkhead was off for repairs. Of course," she shrugged, "maybe the parts were interchangeable. I'm not an engineer, and I had no chance to chat with the the ones who were that day." One might almost have the impression that if she had gotten the chance, she'd have come away with more knowledge. It never occurred to her to say that at the time, she'd been bound and gagged.
Muffet kept her knitting to the same tempo, but inside, her eyebrows rose. A salvaged Akira? If true, it was all kinds of sick raptor. She ran the possibilities in her head -- she found it difficult to believe that any private fleet could amass enough firepower to overcome a Starfleet carrier, so direct piracy was improbable. And if an Akira had run into some natural event it couldn't handle, one of the Tohono o'Odam-class fleet tugs, at the very least would have been sent to recover it. So... stolen from a fleet salvage yard? Or was there someone taking payment under a table for access to a yard?
"A salvaged Akira-class?" Damion thought about it. That could easily date as far back as the Dominion War, when several ships of that class had been destroyed or lost. "Who did Ch'vehress keep imprisoned with you?"
"There were several women, a couple of men. I couldn't tell you their names, and names probably don't mean anything, but I would recognize them again if I saw them," Helle said with conviction.
The lawyer interrupted. "Could you describe them well enough for a sketch artist?"
After a moment, her client nodded, "I think so, at least some of them."
Damion was silent for a moment, contemplating the likely fate of those others. "Do you know what became of any of those people?"
"No. I was focused on keeping us in one piece, and preferably keeping at least one of us conscious at all times. At one point, we were taken out of the ... the room, and we never were taken back. That's the point at which we arrived at whatever the base was, and I don't know if others were delivered there at different times ... or what their fate might have been, if not." She shrugged, which might have seemed callous to some, but it was more matter-of-fact with her. "Slavery would be my guess."
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