Mycelian Madness Chapter One

Posted on Sat 19th Apr, 2025 @ 1:47pm by Renato Solis

1,678 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Renato Solis and the Mycelial Madness
Location: Zodiac- Garden District
Timeline: Day One

-Start-

The security office on the Zodiac always smelled faintly of disinfectant and burnt coffee—an aroma Renato Solis had come to associate with the ineffable tension between law and chaos. Today, that chaos took the form of a missing antique violin and one very red-faced Lieutenant Jeryn.

“I fail to see why this man is in here,” Jeryn growled, arms crossed tightly over his standard-issue navy tunic. “He is not Starfleet, he has no clearance, and he smells like cloves.”

Renato smiled mildly and plucked a speck of dust from the sleeve of his tailored plum coat. “Flavor for my teas, the cloves are for the nerves, darling. And I am here because you called me.”

“I did not.”

“Your superior officer did, which is practically the same thing, and far more polite, I might add.”

Across the room, Lt. Commander Alessa Cho stifled a smirk behind her datapad.

The violin had vanished from the Promenade Music Society’s Gallery, a cozy little venue wedged between a Bolian tea house and a bakery. The violin was old, priceless, and Romulan—which made it not only valuable but politically sensitive. Starfleet would need to report their findings. Hence, the call to Renato. His civilian status reduced his duty to act considerably. He could find it and report the location, and security could recover the item without asking a thing.

He crouched beside the display stand, fingers lightly brushing the imprint where the violin’s mount had once held it. The pedestal it was on had a mechanism to lower into the floor, and the lack of dust at the seams showed it was working.

"The case was empty this morning as it rose up?"

“No broken glass,” he murmured, "seals are solid, no signs of reconstitutions..." he muttered as he observed the empty case. “No signs of forced entry, that I can see. And yet it is gone.”

“We suspect the gallery curator,” Jeryn said stiffly. “Only he had the access code.”

Renato rolled his eyes, remembering who it was quite well. "Toffin Pell? Oh, please. The man cries at flute recitals. He couldn’t stage a convincing sneeze, let alone a heist. Did you question him?”

"Once again, I fail to understand why I am speaking with you?"

Lt. Commander Cho harrumphed, "I am telling you to. Show him. We want to keep this off the books right?"

Jeryn flushed in embarrassment again; this had been under his watch. He opened the file and handed the padd to Renato.

The interviews of several people gave Renato a list of suspects and eliminations. Toffin Pell was definitely not the culprit.

He rose in one fluid motion and began to pace in a slow spiral, observing everything with equal intensity.

“You’ll find,” he said to no one in particular, “that the key to any theft isn’t how it was stolen, but why. And sometimes, more importantly—who wanted it to be noticed. This feels like a stunt, perhaps to prove a point. This violin isn't so priceless one could retire, so what is the reasoning?”

He stopped suddenly, eyes narrowing at a trail of faint scratches on the floor.

“Lt. Commander Cho. What time was the gallery locked up last night, as in physically locked?”

“2130 hours. Curator says he was the last out, and internal sensors confirm it.”

“And the violin was present then?”

Jeryn was confident, “Yes.”

Renato nodded, then pointed at the floor. “See these? Scratches in the polycarbonate. Deliberate, shallow. Someone moved a case here, but they were too careful, and in doing so, left a signature.”

Jeryn scoffed, "Yeah we saw those."

He pointed with a dramatic flourish toward the ceiling-mounted grav-cam. “Pull up the footage between 2110 and 2130. Focus on the entrance.”

Jeryn scoffed. “You think someone walked in plain sight and took it before lockup?”

“No,” Renato said, hands clasped behind his back.

Cho keyed into the console. The screen flickered to life.

Several minutes of dull hallway footage passed, until a woman in civilian robes entered—a visiting dignitary from Vulcan. She paused to speak with Toffin the curator, then walked out exactly ten minutes later, tugging a sleek hover-case behind her.

Renato pointed. “There. That case, it hovers, and shouldn't leave a scratch. She said she was bringing in a donated flute for appraisal, yes?”

Cho nodded. “She logged it. Left it with the curator overnight.”

Renato’s grin widened. “But did she, or was she downstairs logging her flute as the displays withdrew to the maintenance level beneath us?”

With a tap of his stylus, he called up the current manifest. “Let us see what she actually left behind…”

A moment later, Cho’s brow furrowed as she saw the scans and images taken. “This isn’t a flute. This is a box of sheet music. Marked for disposal.”

“She swapped the contents downstairs, Toffin opened the case for her, they share the pedestal mount,” Renato said. “She tucked a replacement violin inside her own case, left a replica with a transporter tag in it allowing for direct target lock. The case was hovering as it wasn't under weight, but then drags on the way out, see? But who checks the box after a donation?”

Cho exhaled slowly, understanding now how it had happened. “They swapped it with a fake, okay, but there was no transporter activity. You’d think they’d just ask to borrow it.”

Renato wagged a finger. “That’s no fun for them. The facts are elementary. Toffin Pell was present down below, but she made a swap somehow. What came back up this morning was gone. How did she get her replica to disappear?”

Lieutenant Jeryn was visibly vibrating. “This is absurd. We have no proof she took it.”

“Oh, but we do,” Renato said, producing a long, thin instrument wrapped in silk from his satchel. “Observe: a pollen brush. I passed it gently over the mount earlier. The spores matched those from a Vulcan calan-d’tor, or ceremonial prayer shawl. One worn, very recently, in that room.”

Jeryn opened his mouth, closed it, and then crossed his arms like a stubborn child denied dessert.

Renato poured over the evidence, concluding finally, "Oh, there is a purpose to this lift isn't there, what if..." Renato took more scans and brushed the mount, "4-D Chess. These displays have holographic glass. She made the swap, activating the holo-display, and walked out the front doors, knowing she had time before anyone opened the display to see it was empty."

Renato looked over the manifest of the ships, and the facial recognition did the rest. “Diplomatic courier, Vulcan, in a state vessel on a state trip. Small ship in point of fact...”

Renato turned back to Cho. “Now, if you please, call her. You’ll find the violin stashed in her diplomatic quarters, behind the false wall panel above the replicator.”

Cho raised an eyebrow. “That’s… oddly specific.”

Renato winked. “You tell me where you'd hide something on this ship. Your own quarters, right? Can't go under floor, or into ceiling. These schematics show every other replicator 1.7 m cubed, but hers is 2.3. Vulcans also access their mechanics from the outside of the quarters, yet there is a control access panel inside her own suite...”

“Tell me the rest another time,” Cho said, already tapping her combadge. “Security to docking ring, prepare for artifact retrieval.”

As the officers moved to act, Renato dusted off his coat and adjusted his lapel pin—a silver crescent moon nested in a ring of stars.

Jeryn glared at him. “I still don’t know who you are.”

Renato turned with a playful bow. “Renato Solis. Civilian investigator, connoisseur of unusual truths, and unapologetic sniffer of delicious fresh baked pies. If it’s lost, stolen, or just feels slightly ‘off,’ I find it.”

Alessa asked bluntly, "What kind of stunt is this though, if she is a diplomat, this would end her career?"

Renato shrugged, "Insufficient information to draw a meaningful conclusion. She did it, we have an idea as to how, and where she put it. If it's there, the 'why' is really your job isn't it?"

Jeryn looked annoyed but Renato was already leaving. "I have an appointment with Dr. Graves, please do reach out if you need anything else!"

He was gone and Jeryn had only begun to form his words on how much he didn't like that man when Renato stuck his head in the door to say,

"Hazing. Those robes are for Vulcan scholars, the flute music was for a Vulcan piece arranged for their graduation ceremonies. Whoever she is, she is a student, who has less than ideal mentors—"

Jeryn cut him off, "We got it!"

Renato nodded, and sheepishly closed the door behind him.

=/\=

The chirp got his attention right away. Since returning to the station his role in the Community Center and overseeing the Garden districts growing populations had afforded a certain status symbol, his very own comm badge. He kept it on a necklace tucked inside his hist, lest his contemporaries find he had "sold out to the stations entrenched power structures."

"Renato here, uhh who am i speaking with?"

A rich voice which had all the markings of a man trying to be erudite replied, "Commander Entaaro Nasz, Senior Communications officer for this base. You are being asked to attend a security review at 0900 with Commanders Heriah Rex, and Mikaela Locke."

Renato blinked hard, astounded at the proclamation. "Regarding what exactly?"

"Missing children, a long history of them. They need to interview you for any clues over the last twenty years you can provide."

"Twenty years? What kind of case is this?"

Entaaro sounded exasperated, as though this was one of several conversations going on for him, "I have told you all I know, Can I relay confirmation of your attendance?"

Renato had wanted to take another swing at things, see if he could make a difference.

This was the opportunity, so he jumped on it, "You can, I'm on the job."

TBC...

 

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