TUESDAY, MARCH 4, 2380 USS ENTERPRISE (NCC-1701) DEEP SPACE, IN TRANSIT TO SALUSA SECTOR Raoul Duke looked out the viewport of his stateroom on B deck and watched the starspecks flit by in halos of rainbow light, fuming. He should've been on Salusia -days ago-. He said as much to the dark-clad man who sat at the little desk in the corner of the room, cleaning a handgun. "Mm-hmm," said MegaZone, who was only about a quarter listening, since he'd heard this rant four or five times already. "All this fucking bureaucracy," Duke grumbled. "You can tell the frontier days are over when a Starfleet captain has to get permission to go to the nerve center of the goddamn galaxy." "Well, he -is- supposed to be mapping the Traverse," Zoner observed mildly. "The Traverse'll still be there in a month!" Duke roared, eyes bulging. "Relax, Hunter," Zoner told him. "We're on our way now. Just chill. Take some reds, do whatever you have to do." Duke rubbed a hand over his balding scalp. "Yeah. Yeah, man, okay. I'll... I'm gonna take a walk." The walk inevitably led him to sickbay, where, upon hearing the door squeak open, the ship's chief medical officer said sardonically, "Just help yourself, Dr. Duke." With perfect equanimity, Duke replied, "Thank you, Dr. McCoy, I believe I will." He sauntered to the large cabinet affixed to the bulkhead next to McCoy's desk, opened it, and surveyed its contents, murmuring to himself. Then, raising his voice to a public-discourse level again, he said, "Jesus, man, you call this a medicine chest? Where's the klemvazine?" McCoy looked up from his case notes with a what-are-you-nuts expression. "We haven't carried klemvazine on the manifest for 20 years. Its side effects are extreme." "I know, man, I know!" Duke replied, the empty cigarette holder in his teeth wagging up and down as he spoke. "What do you think I want it for?" McCoy got up, rounded his desk with a deceptively casual stride, and pushed the cabinet shut. "Dr. Duke, if I have another incident like the other day, I'm going to strap you to an isobed and leave you there until we reach Salusia. Jim nearly had the hide off me for the -first- one." "Shit, man, I told the woman I was sorry," Duke replied. "Anyway, it's not for me. I have a patient of my own, you know." McCoy folded his arms. "I'm still not comfortable with the idea of treating a drug overdose with more drugs." "It wasn't an overdose. It was a reaction. Couldn't be predicted." "Be that as it may, we don't normally treat chlorozaphrexadine toxicity with retrazepam," said McCoy aggressively. "It's an amnesiac." Duke turned and regarded McCoy with horrified, accusing eyes. "Surely to God you don't want to force the poor girl to -remember- being able to see through time." McCoy threw up his hands. "I yield to your superior pharmacological experience," he said sarcastically. "It's a wise man who knows his limitations," said Duke. Opening the cabinet again, he thrust his head inside and asked, "What about scopolamine?" "-Scopolamine?!-" McCoy blurted, as horrified as if Duke had asked him where he kept the trephine and the leeches. "Sometimes I hate the 24th century," said Duke mournfully. "Aha! Here we are. Telparazine. A little oversophisticated, but it'll do if I cut it with enough bourbon." "You know," said McCoy, "the captain's going to insist on seeing your 'patient' before he lets -any- of you go down to Salusia, and God help -both- of us if she's not able to make coherent sentences when he does." Duke backed out of the cabinet with an armload of pill bottles. An array of hypo modules jutted from his shirt pocket like a quiver of arrows. "Don't worry about a thing, man," he said, elbowing the cabinet shut. "It was a little more complicated than I thought - I wasn't counting on her absolutely refusing to let Spock anywhere near her - but we're in the home stretch now." McCoy shook his head. "If Spock hadn't vouched for you, I would never have agreed to let you do this." Duke became dead serious and fixed him with a look of sincere thanks. "I know, man, I know. And I really appreciate it." He reached out with his free hand and clasped McCoy's shoulder. "Don't worry." Releasing McCoy's shoulder, he rummaged in the side pocket of his jacket, came up with a bright red football-shaped capsule, and swallowed it dry, then added, "I'm a -professional.-" McCoy watched him leave sickbay, then glanced up at the ceiling. "God help me." /* The Who "The Seeker" _Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy_ (1971) */ Eyrie Productions, Unlimited presents UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES EXILE Manhunt Part 4: Sleeping Alone Is For Suckers Benjamin D. Hutchins (c) 2009 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited WEDNESDAY, MARCH 5, 2380 ELEANOR CITY, MEIZURI RIGEL SECTOR The good ship Surprise crouched on the tarmac in Revetment 32-G, at the far end of the long wing of Takachiho Memorial Spaceport's civil aviation concourse. She attracted little attention there; Predator- class vessels were a common sight in this neck of the woods. The Worlds Welfare Work Association had dozens of them in its fleet of small starships, having largely adopted the type for the use of its Trouble Consultant teams some decades before. Captain Benjamin D. "Gryphon" Hutchins, currently trading under the name of Captain Cosmo Buchanan for not-getting-arrested purposes, stood at the base of the ramp and looked around at the Eleanor City skyline for a moment. A moment later, he saw the diminutive form of his ship's weapons officer wriggle out of an access hatch forward and slide down the collapsible ladder to the ground. Smiling, he went down to meet her under the ship's bulbous nose module. "How's she look, Jamie?" he asked. Jaime Finney paddled dust from the knees of her field trousers and said, "Everything looks to be functional. Even the autoloader works, which I wasn't expecting." "So we have photon torpedoes, then?" Finney nodded. "Yes, sir. We have: -one.- Photon torpedo." Cracking a wry grin, she added, "Don't spend it all in one place." Gryphon chuckled. "Carry on, Mr. Finney." "Aye aye, sir." He watched her saunter back up the ramp, bound for a full check of the energy conduits to the ship's wingtip turbolasers. Then he turned and crossed the tarmac to his chief engineer, who was puzzling out the revetment's automatic service computer with the aid of the ship's comm officer. "Well, Mr. Lang, what do you think of our new ship now that you've had a shakedown run of sorts?" Gryphon asked. Henry Lang turned to the captain - it was weird to see him with his hair bleached like that - and replied, "She'll do, sir, she'll do. I'm not entirely pleased with the state of some of her running gear, but it's nothing Chance, Bainbridge and I can't fix if we can just get hold of some parts and supplies. She's a good solid ship, on the whole. The people who put her together did a damn sight better job than the Klingons who built Kirk's Bounty, I'll tell you that much," he added with a grin. "Aha!" said Vanessa Leeds, who had kept poking at the terminal while Lang addressed the captain. "Here we are." She turned to Lang. "Okay, unsurprisingly, the spaceport won't extend us any credit, since we've never been here before. If they would, or we had a fund balance, you could order what you need from this menu here, and the spaceport's cargo handlers would deliver it. They've also got mechanics on call," she added with a wry smile, "but I know better than to offend your pride by mentioning them." Lang couldn't quite keep the smirk off his face as he nodded. "You'd better not, if you know what's good for you." Turning to the captain, he added, "What's the status of our petty cash, sir?" "Pretty damn petty, I'm afraid," the captain admitted, "but I'll see what I can do with the spaceport office when I get back from uptown." "I'm still uncomfortable with you making this trip, Captain," Vanessa said. "I know we have to find some answers, but this is putting your head right into the mugato's mouth. Couldn't you send one of us instead? Commander Saavik, Lieutenant Finney, -me?-" Gryphon shook his head, smiling. "It's okay, Vanessa. I'm going to see an old friend. One who's never let me down. I'll be fine." Decades as a respectable - indeed, to some degree an admired - citizen of the Federation had blunted Gryphon's instincts for moving as a fugitive, and he had to keep reminding himself that no one had any reason to suspect Cosmo Buchanan, tramp starship captain, of anything other than iffy fashion sense. (Seriously, a brown overcoat with a maroon commando sweater? And Starfleet Academy sideburns? That's practically impersonating an officer.) He'd been gone so long, many of the people he was encountering on the elevated train uptown hadn't been born yet when he left the dimension. It struck him as likely that, with no sightings in 24 years, a lot of people probably thought he was dead. At the moment, that suited him just fine. A quick check of a public infonet terminal in the spaceport train station had confirmed for him that the person he was looking for still lived where he expected. Getting there was, as he'd expected, uneventful. Nobody was looking for him. He stood at the door of Apartment 261-A (boy, he thought, the Central Computer thinks it's cute), hesitating. Suppose she wasn't home? Suppose she didn't know? Suppose she'd changed her mind about things sometime in the last 50-odd years? Hell, you can suppose a lot of stuff, he told himself, and pressed the doorbell. There was a pause while, if the place still had the same layout he remembered, he was scrutinized from the security station off to the right of the foyer. Then the door sighed open, and there she was. Yuri Daniels stood just inside the doorway, gazing thoughtfully at him, for several seconds. Then she stepped aside and made a won't- you-come-in gesture. Once he was in out of the hall and the door shut behind them, they stood looking at each other, unspeaking, for a few more moments. It occurred to Gryphon that, though he'd played this moment over in his head a hundred times on the way over here, in none of his imagined scenarios had there been an awkward silence. Finally, feeling the need to say -something,- he said, "Hello, Yuri." Yuri smiled slightly. "I figured you'd turn up here sooner or later," she said. Gryphon blinked. "You did?" He was sitting in an armchair by the great panoramic window overlooking Eleanor City when she returned from the kitchen, handed him a cup of tea, and continued her opening thought. "I had it on pretty good authority that you were back from... wherever you went," she said, sitting down opposite him at the end of a sofa. "If you really -have- been away a long time, it was only logical that you'd come to me." She sipped her tea, sat back, and said, "So. Where've you been?" Gryphon smiled wryly. "It's a very long story." He looked around the apartment. "Kei's not listed in the directory for this place." "She doesn't live here, technically," said Yuri. "She's on kind of a working sabbatical. Took a couple of years off from our regular thing to work X-class cases." At his puzzled look, she filled in, "Paranormal crap. There's been a lot more of it coming up lately, and Central's set up some special teams to deal with it. Kei finds it interesting for some reason." Yuri shrugged. "Whatever floats her boat. Me, I'm sticking with plain old everyday drug smugglers and kidnappers. Anyway, you're lucky. She's still around here almost all the time. She's only gone today because she's on assignment this week." Gryphon nodded, leaned forward, and said, "Look, I know my presence here could make things awkward for you, so I'll make this quick. I need to know one thing and I'm gone." "Okay. Shoot." "Who has the stuff from Seventh Street?" Yuri gave him an unconvincingly blank look. "What stuff?" "Come on, Yuri. Don't play with me. We've been through too much for that. I've been to Seventh Street. I know somebody'd been there before me, I know they found a Boomer pod, and I know they took it with them. I want it. I -need- it. It could be the key to everything." Yuri hesitated. "I... " she said, but was cut off by the sudden chiming of the lock code being entered from the hallway. "Oh, hell. Not -now,- Kei... " She turned to Gryphon. "Shouldn't you be hiding?" she asked with some annoyance. Gryphon stayed where he was. "Nah," he said. "Hell with it." Yuri gave him an are-you-insane look, then threw up her hands with an exasperated noise and went to the foyer to see if she could at least intercept her partner. Gryphon watched her go, sipped his tea, and some part of him marveled inwardly at his own composure. It was a shock of sorts to learn that he just didn't give a damn, but he didn't. Where before his encounters with Kei had always caused a strange riptide combination of fear and despair in his heart, hating to see her that way, hating even more the knowledge that it was his presence that made her that way, now his only reaction was a sort of weary resignation. Crazy broad wanted to start a fight right there in the Whitmore Apartments, it was no skin off -his- back. "Kei!" he heard Yuri say. "What are you doing here? I thought you guys were on Tantalus all week." "Yeah, well, we were," Kei's voice replied, and Gryphon noted to himself that, at least, the sound of her voice -did- still give him a little thrill. "Except that Amberson decided Sunday that he didn't need us after all. 'Not a paranormal incident,' he says. My -ass.- I know a poltergeist aftermath when I see one." "Yeah, but you know Julian," a deep male voice rejoined. "He wouldn't believe -I- exist if I didn't step on his toes once in a while." "SO! Uhh," said Yuri with mounting alarm, "look, hey, why don't you go get some dinner? You must be hungry if you flew straight back. My treat - " "Come on, Yuri, quit it," Kei replied in the tone of someone who is relatively cheerfully not having any, but not having any all the same. "I just want to sit on the couch and have a drink. You think I give a shit you've got some mouthbreather from Riot Control over - " she was saying as, brushing a deeply alarmed Yuri aside, she breezed into the living room. "You can hear me breathing?" Gryphon asked, sounding impressed. Kei froze, staring at him, and gave him a moment to take her in. Unlike Yuri, she looked slightly different from the last time he'd seen her. She wasn't wearing her flame-red hair the way she had for almost their entire life together, in a wolf cut held back with a ribbon. She had it down and trimmed instead, longer in the back and banged, like she'd worn it during that undercover mission to the space casino, ages and ages ago. He'd liked it then, the way it framed her face and made her somehow look completely different, and he liked it now. She stared at him for a few seconds, and he wondered if she were about to start shooting up the place; but once she mastered her shock, her only response was to put her hands on her hips and remark, "Well, holy fucking shit. If it isn't Public Enemy Number Zero." Gryphon sipped his tea, put the cup down on the saucer, and then sat back, crossing his legs. "Somebody must've come along who's worse than you think I am by -now,-" he said mildly. "Five, actually, but I've killed 'em all just to make sure you stay at the top of the list," Kei replied. Looking him over critically, she added, "Not sure I like the coat." "I'm sure I like your hair that way," he said. Then, with a dry smile, he added, "This is a refreshing change. I figured our shit would end up all John Woo Standoff at this point." Kei chuckled, went to the couch, and tossed herself down. "Yeah, well, you know what? It occurred to me a few years back that catching you's not -my- fucking job." She looked around. "Something's missing. Hey! HB! Come meet the most dangerous game." To Gryphon's only-moderate surprise, the figure that appeared from the foyer in answer to that call - the owner, presumably, of the third voice a few moments earlier - turned out to be a hulking yellow- eyed red fellow in a long tan coat. He had the stubs of horns on his forehead, a tail, hooves, and a right hand that appeared to have been stolen from a statue somewhat larger than himself. Kei made vague introductory gestures. "Hellboy, this is Ben Hutchins, the Butcher of Musashi, alleged. Ben, Hellboy." "Holy - !" Hellboy said as he realized what Kei was saying. He jerked a huge revolver from a holster on his belt with his left hand, leveling it, but before he'd finished the movement Gryphon dove from his chair, half-rolled, and came up on one knee with a phaser pistol in his hand. "Ah," said Gryphon with a tone of mild satisfaction as he and the demonic-looking chap held down on each other. "-Now- we get to the John Woo portion of our program." Kei snorted and smacked Hellboy on the arm. "Put that friggin' cannon away. Does he look like a paranormal threat to you? -Not- -our- -problem.-" Hellboy gave Gryphon a hard look, then slowly uncocked his revolver and returned it to its holster. Gryphon, seeming unconcerned, powered down his phaser and tucked it away as he got up, dusted his knees, and returned to his seat. From the foyer doorway, where she'd come in behind Hellboy and watched this all unfold, Yuri announced, "One thing and you're gone, you said. Is that still good?" Gryphon nodded. "One thing - if it's the thing I need." Yuri nodded. "Fine. Go to Salusia. The man you want is called Grissom. He's a scientific investigator for the RSMP. You'll find him in Saenar. He has what you want." "Whose side is he on?" "He's not on anyone's side. He's a scientist." Gryphon weighed this, then nodded again, a slight smile on his face. "Okay then," he said, rising. "I'm gone. Nice to see you again." "Mm," said Yuri, not trusting herself to say anything more. He paused and turned to Kei on the way past the sofa. "Listen, before I go, you should know I'm on the trail of a real breakthrough." Kei gave him a tired look. "And? Tell me you're not about to say that when you clear yourself you'll take me back." She made a dismissive gesture. "We're not in the fucking ninth grade." Gryphon's face darkened a bit, the first crack in a veneer of composure even his near-gunfight with Hellboy hadn't cracked. "Take you -back?-" he asked, a trifle incredulous. "I seem to recall you're the one that shot -me,- sweetheart. Anyway, no. I just thought you'd like to know. I'll send you a postcard." Giving the redhead a mock salute, he added, "Ciao, bella," and walked away. He patted Yuri's shoulder on the way past her, but she didn't respond, too busy looking conflicted about all that had just happened. As he walked down the hall toward the elevators, he wondered whether any of them were going to think better of letting him escape and turn this thing into a fight after all. Hellboy did pursue him, but it wasn't to fight. As Gryphon waited for the elevator, the burly red-skinned creature walked up to him and said, "Listen. That lady's been through a hell of a lot on account of you." Gryphon's eyebrows shot up. "On account of -me?-" Hellboy ignored it and plowed on, "She's finally at the point where she can move past all that. She's givin' you a chance here. I just want you to know... " He leaned closer, his voice lowering to a growl, and promised, "If you let her down, I'm comin' for you." Gryphon met his yellow gaze unflinchingly, seemed to look into him for a few seconds, and then smiled. "I like you," he said. "You'll do." Hellboy backed off, looking quizzical. "Do for what?" "For her," Gryphon said. The elevator arrived, opening. He stepped into it, pressed the button for the lobby, and then smiled at Hellboy again through the closing doors. "Be seeing you." It was a slightly more subdued Captain Buchanan who returned to the Surprise's berth as night began to empurple the eastern sky. He paused at the portmaster's office to open an account for his ship, providing the starting balance with a surprisingly heavy, oddly dirty and corroded aluminum briefcase that turned out to be full of refined vizorium bars. It had surprised Gryphon somewhat to find them right where he'd left them sixty years before, but hey, sometimes these things go your way. "Welcome back, Captain," said Vanessa as he walked up the ramp into the Surprise's belly. He'd had to leave his steward, David Jantzen, behind on Musashi because of the Surprise's close quarters, and Vanessa surprised him by taking on the role herself, collecting his coat and weapon from him as he entered the ship's central corridor. "How did it go?" "Adequately," Gryphon replied. Vanessa, professionally adept at reading tones of voice, took it that he didn't want to discuss the matter further, so she tactfully abandoned the subject. Instead she said, "I received a transmission from Socko Base while you were out. Vision thinks that the last of our in-depth integratic sweeps will be finished by 0900 tomorrow. We'll have a report for you at six bells in the forenoon watch." He smiled, some of the haunted weariness gone from his face, and said, "Excellent. I'm looking forward to it." After a few more paces, Vanessa decided she could hazard fishing for a little more information. "Will we be leaving right away, sir?" Gryphon paused as if he hadn't really considered the answer to that question, then said, "No, I don't think so. There's no great hurry, and I know Mr. Lang has some work he wants to do before we leave. Speaking of which... " He detoured to the nearest intercom panel. "Captain to Engineer." "Go ahead, sir," Lang's voice replied. "Mr. Lang, I've just opened an account for you with the portmaster. You've got a quarter-million credits. Spend them wisely." "Thank you, sir. How long can I have?" "How long do you need?" "Twelve hours would be good," Lang replied without hesitation. "Twenty-four would be better." "You can have twelve for certain. I'll know about the other twelve after we get a hyperpulse from Socko Base tomorrow morning." "Copy that, sir. I'd best get to work, then." "Carry on, Mr. Lang. Oh - and Henry?" "Yes, sir?" "Buy some photon torpedoes if you have any money left over. Having just the one is embarrassing." "Aye aye, sir." Gryphon clicked off, told Vanessa to get some rest in anticipation of a busy day tomorrow, and then walked forward alone to the bridge. "Captain on the bridge," said Saavik from the science station as he entered. Gryphon paused, looked around, and then said, "We're the only ones here, Saavik." "Force of habit," she replied, unconcerned. "I have a report for you." "Go ahead," he said, plunking himself down in the captain's chair. Saavik rose and crossed to his side, carrying an oblong cardboard box under her arm. "I've registered us as a hunter- investigator firm," she said, then explained, "That way we won't be arrested for having an armed civilian starship." Gryphon nodded. "Good thinking." "Thank you. And I have a gift for you," she went on, offering him the box. Gryphon took it, removed the lid, rustled through the tissue paper underneath, and removed the contents. This proved to be a black bomber jacket of some satiny material; the back was emblazoned with a colorful embroidered representation of the ship, surmounted by bold white text reading "H/V SURPRISE". "Oo. Snazzy." Gryphon put it on, fastened the bottom three snaps, and swung his arms a couple of times to check the fit (which was perfect). "Where'd you get the money for this?" "Corpsman McRea and I sold some of the more extraneous medical supplies," Saavik explained. "It seemed unlikely, for example, that we would need CaraPatch with no insectoids in our crew, but there is a Vrusk trading ship three revetments over whose surgeon was overjoyed to have it." Gryphon smiled. "Clever." "It was McRea's idea." "Did you get one for everybody?" "Of course. I wanted to get your approval before distributing them." "Oh, by all means," he said, smoothing a sleeve. "It's important to look sharp in this business." "Are you making game of me, Captain?" "Not nearly as much as I am of myself." He sat back down, sighed, and turned to face her. "Kei was there." Saavik arched an eyebrow. "Indeed. And yet you do not seem to have been in a fight." "I wasn't. Well, not a -fight- fight. It was... weird. I think she has a boyfriend. Which is fine. She seemed to think that would bother me, but, shit." He shrugged. "I mean, what." Saavik hesitated, then said diplomatically, "It appears to me that it does bother you." He shook his head. "No. What bothers me is that it doesn't bother me. I wasn't expecting that. But I just... can't be bothered. I don't give a shit." He turned his head to look her in the eye. "Is that bad?" "You are decidedly asking the wrong person," said Saavik evenly. He looked back at her for a few seconds, then laughed at himself. "I guess so. Anyway, the hell with it. I've got too much work to do. As long as she's not shooting at me, she can do whatever the fuck she wants." He slumped back in the command chair with a deep sigh. "Christ, I'm tired." "Perhaps you should retire. There is no pressing reason to stand watch in port." "Yeah. Good idea." He rose, walked about halfway to the door, then turned and gave her a raised-eyebrow look of his own. "You coming?" "Thank you, the crisis is past," Saavik said, unruffled. "Crisis, schmisis," Gryphon replied with a dismissive wave. "Sleeping alone is for suckers." "That statement seems... oxymoronic." "It makes sense in Tamarian." Saavik didn't think it was possible to say it at all in Tamarian, but she hadn't really been puzzled by the expression in the first place. Some part of her just enjoyed playing to the stereotype. She wondered what the writings of Surak had to say about fits of puckishness, then threw the line of thought aside and followed him out. THURSDAY, MARCH 6, 2380 THE GREAT LODGE (RSMP HEADQUARTERS) SAENAR, SALUSIA Inspector Gil Grissom sat in his cubicle in the corner of the Scientific Investigation Department bullpen, reviewing the information he and the rest of his team had gathered over the course of the last two weeks, and forced himself to reach an unpalatable conclusion. Since his return to work on February 21, he, Harrison Chu, and occasionally (when her duties as SID superintendent permitted her time for field work) Mirrim Verron had investigated seven homicides in Saenar. This was well above the Crown City's normal homicide rate, which had been averaging a decidedly modest fifteen per annum for the last decade and more, and was keeping them so busy that neither he nor Chu had been sent to investigate any other crime in any other city since his return. What was more, there had been four murders in the three weeks before his departure on the special assignment that had taken him to the Strenuus system. Those four fit a particular pattern, fit it closely enough that even he, always reluctant to draw conclusions from circumstance, had to admit the near-certainty that the cases were related - that, in short, they had a serial murderer on their hands in Saenar. What was really sticking in Grissom's throat, though, was the -second- conclusion the evidence was forcing him to consider now. Of the seven killings he and Chu had investigated since February 21, three fit that same pattern perfectly. The other four didn't fit it at all... ... but they bore an eerie resemblance, in some particulars, to each other. Grissom tossed the coroner's report on the most recent of the four onto his desk, pinched the bridge of his nose, and semi- successfully suppressed a groan. "Are they keeping you up late, Inspector?" a woman's voice asked. Grissom turned in his swivel chair to face his cubicle entrance and saw a human woman in a khaki uniform most unlike the green-jacketed, navy-trousered ensemble of the Mounted Police. Her hair was a curious shade of violet, which would have revealed her Zentraedi heritage if Grissom hadn't already known about it. "Commander Sterling," he said. "This is a surprise." "Buy you lunch?" Maia Sterling replied. They went to a diner a block and a half from the Lodge, where Grissom was well-known and nobody cared about purple-haired human women in foreign uniforms lunching with cops. "You realize I can't discuss any open cases," Grissom said with a slightly ironic smile as they sat down. "I've read Starfleet's report on the Xawin crash," Maia told him without any preamble. "And we had one of our own people go take a look at it right after you left, before the Starfleet salvage crew got there. I wanted to get your perspective in person." Grissom paused to order coffee and a reuben sandwich, and to give Maia time to opt for the French dip, before framing his response. "I left Xawin with more questions than answers. I know he was there. I know roughly how he got there. But how he came to be in the captain's chair of an advanced Federation starship that had just fought one of the most gruesome actions Commander Soandso had ever seen?" He shook his head. "I'm in the dark there. You probably know more than I do." Maia smirked faintly. "That may be so," she said, "but you have the one piece of information I need to make the rest of it fit. You're -certain- it was him?" Without hesitation, Grissom gave her the same expression of certainty he'd given Kearna Adaji: "DNA doesn't lie." Maia nodded. "That's what I was hoping you'd say." Grissom eyed her narrowly. "What else do you know?" Maia looked around, made sure no one was in the booths to either side of them, and leaned closer. "Mom and Dad tracked him to the Deneb system and then lost his trail at a subspace anomaly. To them, it looked like someone had set off an SDD." "Commander Soandso said something similar about the -beginning- of the mystery starship's trail," Grissom observed. Maia winked. "-Exactly.-" She thanked the waitress for her coffee, blew the steam off the top, took a sip, and then went on, "I think your mystery ship isn't from the future, like Starfleet's currently assuming. I think it's from another dimension." Grissom's face went blank, then took on a look of dawning satisfaction. "That would explain many things," he allowed. "And now that I know what to look for, I know just how to confirm or disprove it." Maia gave him a curious look. "How?" "Come to the lab tonight, after the day shift leaves but before Graveyard comes in. Say 2100," Grissom told her, "and I'll show you." H/V SURPRISE ELEANOR CITY, MEIZURI Gryphon and the rest of the Surprise's crew gathered in the ship's cargo hold, the largest room aboard by far, where CPO Amanda Chance and Vanessa had set up a tactical holotank to relay Vision's incoming report from the Matrix back on Musashi. Technically, only the captain -had- to be present for the report, but there was a faint tang of impending action in the air, and nobody wanted to miss whatever came next. Vanessa sat at the holotank's console, reacquainting herself with the more sophisticated system after her days learning to work the bodged-up complexities of the Matrix by instinct, then composed herself, made sure the hyperwave link to Socko Base was stable, and began her report. /* The Crystal Method "High Roller" _Vegas_ (1997) */ "The overall social and political climate of the galaxy right now is better than we were expecting to find, based on the way things were when you left," Vanessa said as newsfeeds and historical documents streamed through the movie-screen-sized holofield. "Applying standard integratic methods to the relevant content on the most prominent newsfeeds and the Galactipedia, we think we've pieced together at least the broad outline of why." A life-size projection of Vision's avatar, still dressed in Starfleet uniform macros, appeared over on the right, out of the way of the main presentation. "It looks like -someone- launched an organized counter to GENOM's PR offensive about six years ago," she said. "We're not sure who - they've been very subtle about it, and they're good at covering their tracks. A lot better than GENOM's stooges, if you want to get right down to it. We also can't tell from the available data why they chose to start specifically in 2374." Vanessa took over - they had apparently planned their presentation ahead, at least a little. "What we -can- tell is that their campaign is starting to work. Prompted by the senator for the Outer Rim Territories, the Federation Senate rescinded United Galactica General Decree 2288-1257 two years ago, decriminalizing the remaining survivors of the WDF and negating GENOM's authority to offer bounties for them." "Not long afterward," Vision put in, "a HUGE edit war broke out on Galactipedia. Some of the relevant pages, including yours, are still locked, not that that keeps them from being radically changed at least three times a week. I strongly suspect at least one of the players is another Class One AI. My first guess would be FUCKUP." Gryphon snorted with amusement, but didn't offer any explanation to the two or three officers who glanced at him with questions in their eyes. "Whoever it is," Vision went on, "he's got the upper hand right now. The Galactipedia page on you currently points out in fairly strong terms that there was never a trial and you were never convicted of any crime in conjunction with the events on Musashi." "Who holds the authority to conduct such a trial with the WDF's administrative structure defunct?" Saavik asked before Gryphon could. "GENOM's legal department, ostensibly on behalf of the surviving people of Musashi, and the Barrister General for the Salusian Crown have been wrangling about that in the Federation Supreme Judicial Court since the Senate withdrew 2288-1257 - part of the withdrawal decree assigned legal responsibility for undisposed WDF matters to the Crown, by request of Her Majesty the Queen." Saavik arched an eyebrow. "Via the Salusian senator?" Vision shook her head. "A personal request delivered on the floor of the Senate. Actually, 'request' is what it says in the official documents, but I've reviewed the file holos. It was really more like an ultimatum. She quite rightly pointed out that the Crown's cooperative arrangement with the WDF pre-dated even the Pact Galactica, and, as such, if anyone should be named trustee in such matters, there could be only one legal course of action." A smile quirked the corner of her mouth as she added, "My favorite part? Was when the Right Honorable Senator for Corellia said you were an infamous criminal and she challenged him to a duel." The AI's grin broadened as she added, "She called him a pusillanimous blackguard." Gryphon chuckled. "That's my girl." "Anyway, the FSJC finally ruled on the matter toward the end of last year. Citing undue interest and the impossibility of impartiality, they denied both the GENOM claim -and- Salusia's. If you're tried for the Seventh Street School incident, it'll be by a Starfleet board of inquiry - essentially a Federation military tribunal." "Well, we could do worse," said Gryphon philosophically. "I think the political editor for the Saenar Banner-Loudhailer put it best: 'This ruling represents a fine example of an interstellar compromise, as it has left all parties feeling equally as if all is lost.' I don't think the Loudhailer is terribly pro-Federation." "That's the current -official- situation," Vanessa said. Her fingers dashing over the main console's keys, she pulled up a couple of large graphs and some secondary pages full of what appeared to be mathematical calculations. "In terms of public opinion, statistical analysis of well over a billion newsfeeds, blogs, propaganda websites, books, magazine articles, reviews, and oblique popular culture references in recent movies, television shows, and audiodramas gives us 70 percent of the Federation moderately to strongly in favor of an open re-examination of the entire affair, with the hardcore pro- and anti-WDF types, the ones who'll never be convinced either way whatever happens, canceling each other out at about eight percent each and the remainder undecided. Margin of error: two point three percent." She hesitated, looked back over her shoulder, and added modestly, "You may want to have Commander Saavik recheck my calculations, sir." "That won't be necessary, Lieutenant," said Saavik, adding with faint wryness, "I am the last person of whom you should inquire in matters of popular culture." "So, overall, not the best picture we could have hoped for, but far from the worst we could have feared," said Vision. "If you were to get caught, the cops would certainly arrest you, but they probably won't shoot you on sight - though unlike the other WDF members, GENOM's bounty on you still stands, and it's liable to draw all sorts of less careful types out of the woodwork." Gryphon nodded. "Well, my plan wasn't to walk into Queen Shiva Square and make an announcement," he observed. "Although that does raise the uncomfortable point that I don't have a plan." He turned to Lang. "The sooner we're on our way to Salusia, the happier I'll be, Henry. How much more time do you absolutely need?" Lang didn't hesitate. "Six hours, sir." "Very well. Skids up at 1730. On your way." The rest of the crew stirred with excitement. He heard someone at the back - Tarolo, he thought - murmur delightedly, "Cap'n's getting -brisk- again!" Some captains would have called for silence at that point, but it made Gryphon smile. "Mr. Finney," he said. "Sir?" said Jamie. "Draw whatever funds Mr. Lang hasn't used from our spaceport account and find us some ground transportation, if you please. We're going to need more freedom of movement on Salusia than public transport or my Cyclone will provide." With a little smile, he added, "Try to get something with a little style." Finney grinned. "Aye aye, sir. Style it is." "The rest of you to your stations!" Gryphon declared. "Do whatever you can to help the engineers, and failing that, just keep out of their way." As the crew dispersed, Saavik paused by Vanessa's console as she shut down the holotank. "As you requested, I've performed a quick check on your calculations. They are essentially sound, but you've left one-tenth of one percentile unaccounted-for." Vanessa smiled a little tiredly. "I didn't think the captain needed or wanted to hear about the Largo/Gryphon slash fans." Saavik paused, at a genuine loss this time. "I am unfamiliar with this context for the word 'slash', I think." "Seriously, just forget it," Vanessa said. "You're better off not knowing." USS ENTERPRISE DEEP SPACE Spock entered the Enterprise's aft observation lounge to find Valeris standing by the large windows, gazing out at the shimmering rainbow interactions of the ship's warp engines and the scintillating patterns of her Bussard collectors with a dreamy little smile, humming to herself. Since she had only owned the one jumpsuit they'd found her in, and it had seen better days -before- she'd lived several medically interesting days in it, she was wearing a Starfleet uniform, command gold, albeit one with all the insignia removed. "Lieutenant," said Spock in greeting. "Are you well?" Valeris turned to smile at him, looking markedly less demented than when he'd last seen her (though some part of him did find the giant grin unsettling on a Vulcan face). "Oh yes, Mr. Spock," she said. "Quite well." Spock nodded equably and assumed she would return to warpgazing, but instead, he found her examining his face with the same slightly spacey intensity. He let her do so for upward of ten seconds before asking patiently, "Is there some problem?" Valeris shook her head. "No, not at all," she said. Then, smling again, she went on matter-of-factly, "It just never occurred to me before how -devastatingly handsome- you are." Spock raised an eyebrow. "Carry on, Lieutenant," he said, then turned to go. Still smiling, Valeris turned back to her observations of warp field dynamics. "Commander." H/V SURPRISE ELEANOR CITY, MEIZURI Jaime Finney strode triumphantly onto the bridge at precisely 1720 hours, beaming with satisfaction. "Everybody can relax, I found the car," she declared. Gryphon swiveled and rose from his chair. "Show me." They went down the ramp, with the rest of the curious crew in tow, and found Finney's acquisition sitting, long, low and black, on the tarmac below the ship's main cargo hatch. At the sight of it, as he had at the sight of the Surprise, Gryphon laughed delightedly. "Mr. Finney, you continue to outdo yourself," he said. "Thank you, sir," Jamie replied with a twinkling grin. "Don't tell me you designed the car, too," said Max Hunter. "No," Gryphon replied, walking around the car, "but it was named after me. Where did you ever find a Sunrise Griffon in Eleanor City? I don't want to know if you boosted it from a museum." "Of course not!" Finney replied piously. "It was on a used car lot uptown. One of those fancy ones." "How much did you pay for it?" "Only forty-eight hundred." Gryphon eyed the car. "What's wrong with it?" "Nothing Hank and I can't fix by the time we get to Salusia," Jamie said, drawing a guffaw from Lang. Gryphon grinned. "Okay!" he said, clapping his hands together. "Henry, let's get this loaded and secured. Everybody else, departure stations! Ready the ship for immediate launch! Vanessa, get onto ATC and clear us out of the system. There's not a moment to be lost!" RSMP HEADQUARTERS SAENAR, SALUSIA Maia Sterling signed into the Great Lodge after hours, telling the guard at the entrance that she was there to see Inspector Grissom. She issued Maia a visitor's badge and told her to wait in the lobby, and a few moments later, Grissom came out to greet her. "You're right on time. I've got the experiment all set up," he told her. "Come this way." He led her down the hall and into a white room full of a dim blue light; the centerpiece of this room was a large piece of equipment set into the far wall. It reminded Maya of nothing so much as a clothes dryer, the industrial kind, like they used to have in the dorms at the old WDF Academy. "Okay... what am I looking at?" she asked. "This device measures the subquantum resonance in samples of matter," Grissom explained. "Each parallel dimension has its own unique resonance signature. WDF scientists worked this out back in the 21st century, during the Rift Conflict." Maia nodded. "I remember the Rift Conflict. I was a buck pilot officer at the time." She smiled wryly. "Science wasn't my forte." Grissom nodded. "Well, we don't have a catalog of what dimension has what resonance - since there's theoretically an infinite number of dimensions, there's bound to be some overlap anyway - but to an extent, subquantum resonance is a probative test for extradimensional origin. If something has the same resonance signature as native matter, that doesn't prove it IS native matter - but if it's different, that proves it isn't." "Okay. So what are we testing?" Grissom held up what looked like a Lucite tube, six inches long by an inch in diameter; embedded in the center of it was a small rectangular shard of a slightly pearlescent grey metal. "This is a fragment of tritanium from the wrecked starship on Xawin. Part of the hull plating." He inserted it into a fitted cavity in the center of the "dryer", then closed the door and locked it. Pressing a few keys on the keypad next to the door, where Maia's dryer analogy would've put the coin slot, he set the machine working. The central cavity filled with a bright green light; the door polarized, dimming the glow to a safe level. A high-pitched whining sound filled the room. "If that ship is native to this dimension, even if it's from another -time,- its subquantum resonance should still be 100.24 millicurtisses," Grissom told her. "As I said, that wouldn't be definitive proof that it's native, but if it's different... " Maia nodded. "How long until we know?" Grissom opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, the machine stopped whining and went PING! Across the room, sheets started whirring out of a printer. "Now," Grissom said. He pressed a button on the front of the machine, and a display above the keypad read 723.12. "Well, that's pretty definitive," Maia observed. Grissom collected the detailed report from the printer, leafed through it, and then looked up. "Your theory is correct," he said. "That ship is from a parallel dimension." "If you know Gryphon was aboard, you must have biological evidence. Can you put -that- in your thingy and see if he's from the same dimension as the ship?" Grissom shook his head. "The human body's cells are constantly being replaced. Even if the sample I have is from a man who was born in this dimension, if he had been in that one for any appreciable length of time, his blood - in fact, almost all his body tissues - would have acquired that dimension's SQ signature by now." Maia frowned. "So how can we ever know?" "There are other ways to check the dimensional provenance of lifeforms, but they require an examination of the Spengler flux. Not something you can get from cast-off blood. We'd need him to be here himself - and if he -is- the man you think he is, he's hardly going to stroll into the Great Lodge and ask us to scan him." "Hmm. Maybe, maybe not," Maia said. "I got a call after we talked this afternoon from one of our contacts on Meizuri. She said he'd been there - and she told him to come look you up. He wants to know what we know about the pod." Grissom raised his eyebrows. "There are two ways he could mean that." "I know. But I have to proceed in the belief that he's innocent and trying to find a way to prove it." "The presumption of innocence is a fundamental principle of justice," Grissom agreed mildly. "All the same, it would be foolish not to take a few precautions." Maia would have asked him what he meant, but before she could do so, his communicator beeped for his attention. Frowning, he pulled it from his belt and flipped it open. "Grissom," he said. "Gil!" a voice, nearly drowned in unidentifiable background noise, cried back. Grissom's brow creased. "Harrison? Is that you? I can barely hear you. What's that noise?" "Need help!" Chu called back. "My location - the Vampire!" The signal disintegrated in a howl of static. Grissom thrust the communicator back onto his belt, peeled off his lab coat, grabbed his green serge uniform jacket and his hat from the peg by the door, and started down the hall with Maia trotting after him. "What did that mean?" Maia wondered. "It's unrelated to our case," Grissom told her, fastening his jacket. "I can't discuss an active investigation with an outsider. I'm sorry, Commander, you'll have to show yourself out. I have to go." "I'm willing to bet my ride's faster than yours. It sounded like your buddy was in a lot of trouble. I can help." When Grissom looked doubtful, she grabbed him by the shoulder and said, "Mars Division has the Queen's warrant, you know that. All you have to do is say the word and I'm deputized, subject to the Confidentiality Act." With a little smirk, she added, "And you know I can keep a secret." Grissom pondered it for a quarter-second more, then settled his campaign hat on his head and nodded. "Okay. You drive." They made it to the location of Harrison Chu's interrupted transmission in seven minutes flat, and they'd have done it faster if Maia hadn't had to keep her Cyclone in bike mode because of her passenger. They arrived up on the ridge at the city's edge - only a few miles from the place where the Crown City Constabulary had found the destroyed car and dead couple on Grissom's first day back from Xawin to find what had been an RSMP SID official vehicle burning by the side of the road, another torn-open automobile, and a mangled guard rail - but nothing else. Well... almost nothing else. "Harrison!" Grissom cried, leaping from the back of the Cyclone even before Maia had slung it to a halt. He ran to the side of his younger colleague, who lay sprawled on the ground next to his burning airspeeder. Even in his alarm for Chu's safety, Grissom's keenly trained observer's mind and senses were taking in the scene. The car, parked at the overlook near the tear in the guard rail, had been cut and peeled open just like the first one and one other since. There were two people in it, slumped in their seats; even from this distance Grissom could tell they were dead. Several of those trilobal footprints were clearly marked in the wet earth - it had rained earlier that night, and this overlook, unlike the first one, was not paved. In the bottom of one foot impression, a short distance from Chu's sprawled body, lay the flattened remains of an RSMP communicator. Grissom finished rushing to Chu's side and knelt next to him, feeling for his pulse. Before he could find one, Chu proved that he still had one by stirring, trying to get up. Grissom could tell by the way his legs were splayed on the ground that that probably wasn't going to work. "Lie still, Harrison. You're badly hurt." He pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. "This is Grissom, SID, E2L4G9. I have an officer down and in need of immediate medevac. Capture my location and dispatch a rescue aero." "Copy, E2L4G9," came the cool voice of the city dispatcher. "Rescue aero en route. ETA three minutes." "Gil... " Chu rasped, grasping at Grissom's sleeve. "Lie -still,-" Grissom repeated. "Don't move. You'll only do yourself more harm." "It was... the Vampire. I was right. He had a GENOM battlemover. A DG. Only a couple of years old. Supposed to be military-only." Grissom nodded. "Very good," he said. "We can get something from that." "There's more," Chu said. With his one working arm, he fumbled in the front of his uniform, then extracted a small item and held it out with trembling fingers. "I was just... out for a drive. Going to get some photos of the city for my sister. He'd already burned the car when I got here... and... he'd -dismounted,- Gil. To finish them off. To... do his thing." Grissom took the small item, turned it over in his fingers: a minicamera. "Harrison," he said, gripping his wounded colleague's shoulder. "Do you mean you got a picture of him?" "Two. One as he was leaning into the car. But... " Chu chuckled bitterly at himself. "Left the flash on. Tipped him off pretty quick. But he turned to look at it. Instinctive. So I took another shot." He grabbed Grissom's forearm. "I saw his face. It's on there." Gripping harder, he raised his eyes to Grissom's and repeated intently, "-I saw his face.-" "That's -great- work, Harrison. If you got a clear shot, we can run him through the facial recognition database and - " "You don't -need- to," Chu said. "I know him. -Everybody- in law enforcement knows him." Grissom didn't like where he thought this was heading. Bending closer, he said, "What do you mean? Who was he?" Gritting his teeth against the rising waves of pain, Chu swallowed hard, then said, "He's the Butcher, Gil. The Butcher of Musashi. He's here. In Saenar. Tonight." Releasing Grissom's arm, Chu slumped. "Sorry... I couldn't stop him. He shot me, then... buttoned up and took out my vehicle. Don't know why... he didn't kill me." He chuckled painfully again. "Maybe he thought he had. Hell, maybe he has." "Don't think of that," Grissom told him. "You hear me? Medevac is on its way. You've got a chance. Just don't give up. Harrison, can you -hear- me? -Don't give up.-" "Heh... roger that, Inspector Grissom," Chu replied with a weak smile. Grissom stood with his hands behind his back and watched the aerodyne bear Chu away to King Jerka Memorial Hospital, its colored strobes at full emergency intensity. Maia stepped up behind him. Turning to face her, he thumbed the control on the back of Chu's camera. A holographic projection of the last image in the buffer sprang into existence, hovering a few inches above the lens assembly. It was a very clear picture, with excellent flash definition, and it showed the startled, angry face of a man who looked exactly like Benjamin Hutchins, full-on from the front, one of his cheeks smeared with blood. "This complicates matters, Commander," said Grissom. "The hell it does," Maia replied flatly. "Gryphon was on Meizuri -this morning-. There's no way he could have gotten here in time to do this. Especially if I understood your friend right and this case has been going on for a while." Grissom nodded. "I wasn't suggesting that Gryphon, if the man your friend saw was Gryphon, is responsible for this. But as soon as Harrison's photo hits the infonet, every cop, soldier, douanier, Crown Security officer, Ministry of Public Safety agent, and would-be vigilante on this planet is going to be on the alert for a vicious killer who has his face... and he's on his way right into the heart of the maelstrom." /* The Crystal Method "Murder" _Tweekend_ (2001) */ Eyrie Productions, Unlimited presented UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES EXILE Manhunt Part 4: Sleeping Alone Is For Suckers starring Raoul Duke MegaZone Leonard H. McCoy, MD Benjamin D. Hutchins Jaime Finney Henry Lang Vanessa Leeds Yuri Daniels Kei Morgan Hellboy Saavik Giol'bertis Grissom Maia Sterling Vision Teyynar Tarolo Spock Valeris Harrison Chu by Benjamin D. Hutchins with Chad Collier Geoff Depew Philip J. Moyer and The EPU Usual Suspects planetologist Slarti To be continued in Part 5: Everything That Rises E P U (colour) 2009