Alone in the Light, Part 11
Title: Alone in the Light, Part 11
Author:
j_green_teeth
Universe/Series: reboot
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3435 of ~41,000
Warnings: Minor/OC Character Death, discussion of Suicide (highlight to view complete warnings)
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock, implied Scotty/Uhura, OC/OC, ensemble, Many OCs
Jim jumped up. “Spock, what’s wrong?”
Spock scanned the room for threats before answering him. “You did not arrive when the match was scheduled to start.” Jim bit his lip. “You were also not in any of your typical locations when I endeavored to locate you.”
Oh, crap. He had gone missing and Spock couldn’t find him anywhere. With a murdered on the loose, no wonder Spock was wandering around with a phaser.
“Drat, I’m sorry Spock. I just ran into Elizabeth here and she needed a sympathetic ear.”
Elizabeth made a tiny wave and slipped passed Spock out the door. Spock glanced at her over his shoulder then fixed his eyes back on Jim. “I respectfully request that until this investigation is concluded, you carry a communicator with you at all times.”
Jim covered his eyes with his hand. “Please, please, tell me you didn’t do a shipwide broadcast.”
“You would have heard it had we issued one. No. Dr. McCoy pointed out that the crew would rightly interpret such a communication as proof that we did not know where the Captain was.”
“Good. Great.” Jim relaxed.
“I did not find this particularly compelling. Lieutenant Commander Baal pointed out that if you were indeed missing, I would have to assume your responsibilities, and it would then be questionable whether I could actively participate in a search for you.”
Jim narrowed his eyes. “Exactly how many people were involved in this discussion?”
“Five. Dr. McCoy, Lieutenant Commander Baal, Mr. Scott, Lieutenant Sulu and myself.” Spock reported. Jim had a sudden mental image of the five of them all in different colored jerseys having a huddled argument about what to do.
“Okay. Tell me nobody knows and nobody’s panicking.”
“Several crew members noted your absence from the field.”
“You started the games?” Jim headed into the hallway. He needed to get changed. Spock nodded. “Good. So who else is looking for me?”
“Since we agreed so many absent participants would be noticed, Reese, Asher, and Lieutenant Keenser were asked to discreetly inquire as to your whereabouts.” Spock fell in to step close behind him.
That wasn't too bad. Those three all knew how to keep calm. “You tell them I’m alright. I’m going to change and let people see me play football. How many of the crew are at the game?”
“I estimate ninety to ninety-five percent of the off duty personnel are in attendance.”
Jim whistled. “That many?”
“They are highly trained. I expect they recognized a pattern in the recent deaths.” Spock was still invading his personal space.
“Right. Safety in numbers. Spock, do you intend to follow me into the changing room?” They had reached the locker room and Spock wasn't getting any further away.
“Until you have been issued a communicator I will keep visual contact.” Spock said without so much as a twitch.
Jim took mental stock. Nope, today was not the day he was going to get naked in front of Spock. There should be flowers, candy or at least alcohol on that day. “You’ll have to settle for aural.” He grabbed his exercise gear and retreated into one of the changing rooms.
He heard Spock shift then the chirp of the communicator and Spock informing Reese, Asher and Keenser that the situation was resolved.
Jim pulled on his shorts and Command yellow T-shirt. Sulu had claimed he had been the last to choose jersey colors and had chosen yellow over the eye-searing purple. Jim wasn’t sure he believed him. Sulu actually looked good in yellow.
Jim came out, shoved his stuff in a locker and turned to find Spock doing a visual sweep of the room. “Right, let’s go.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Jim waited a moment before saying, “Spock, you may want to put that phaser away.”
“No, I find that I do not.”
Jim sighed. “Spock, I know you know there are regs about no live weapons on the field or in the audience during a football game.”
Spock looked down at the weapon in his hand then back at Jim. “I will return it to the armory after the games are complete,” Spock countered.
Jim was so going to bring this up next time Spock quoted regs at him. “You will return it now.”
“I will remove the power cell. It will then no longer be a live weapon.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “Fine, and don’t let anyone see it.”
They stepped into the gymnasium by a side door behind the spectator seating. “So if you were looking for me, who was refereeing the second game?”
The sound of yelling with a distinctly Southern tone reached his ears. “If I say you were offside, you were offside.”
“How’d you get him to...?” Jim waved a hand towards where Bones was browbeating a player in green.
“Under protest.”
Jim's team lost one to two the first game and nil to one the second. They carefully didn’t ask him where he had been or why he was late, or why Spock was rarely more than ten feet away from his side the entire night. Spock went so far as to walk Jim back to his quarters after the post-game chatter had broken up. He had mumbled a 'thanks' at his door. Spock was still standing in front of his door when it closed.
~*~*~*~
Jim decided to take a walk. He and Spock had spent the morning talking to several of Ensign Garrett’s friends. They all said the same thing. He was a nice guy, with a dramatic streak a mile wide. Lieutenant Gunther had added that he had been a good worker. He gave his work the same dedication as his flights of fancy. There was also the consensus that Ensign Garrett and Ensign Bestine were friends from way back, not lovers. Still a link, but it helped quash the insidious little voice in the back of his head saying that Elizabeth Daws had engineered their deaths as some sort of revenge.
Jim and Spock spent the afternoon trying to put what they learned into a coherent story. A network of loose ties between the victims was starting to emerge, but it wasn’t aligning to point in any one direction.
Jim had needed to get away from those six seats with their PADDs and prints that tried to convey the essences of their lost people. Spock wasn’t happy with Jim’s decision to stretch his legs. Even though Jim had a communicator and promised to keep it with him, Spock had hardly let him out of his sight. He had had to tell Spock exactly where he planned to walk and agree to take Ensign Asher with him before Spock would let him go without him. It left him feeling muddled. On the one hand Spock’s overbearing protectiveness was kind of sweet, for maybe a half hour. Jim was pretty sure Spock wouldn't react that way for any Captain; not that he would throw another Captain to the wolves. He would probably arrange a guard rota with ruthless efficiency, but he wouldn’t take on the duty personally.
The other side of it was that Jim hated, hated, hated having to take a guard with him when he walked around his own god damn ship. They were all supposed to be in this together. They were supposed to fight the Romulans, the Klingons, whatever freak of the week was trying to kill them at the time. But someone had broken ranks. One of their own was killing them. After that, Spock’s assumption he couldn’t take care of himself was small potatoes.
Jim was about three quarters of the way around the saucer section when he was stopped. “Captain, you caught the killer yet?”
He saw Lieutenant Veni along with Ensign Himshe and Chief Petty Officer Liefson standing in the hall. When she saw that she had his attention she called out again with her hands on her hips, “Well, sir, have you figured it out?”
Jim slowed and politely told her, “We are still looking for credible suspects.”
“What about Dr. Lars?” She asked loudly. “He was acting really strange at Baloo’s funeral.”
Ensign Himshe added, “And I heard he was responsible for Malea’s death.”
Petty Officers Goon and Salavtos had stopped walking to gawk at the confrontation. Jim squared up to her, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that said this would not lead to good things. “Lieutenant Veni, Dr. Lars was on duty during Ensigns Baloo's, Garrett's and Petty Officer Morn’s deaths.”
“Well-” Lieutenant Veni was interrupted by Petty Officer Salavtos.
“What about Turner? He’s been acting pretty shifty since Lieutenant Commander Vick died.”
Jim wasn’t actually sure who Turner was. The name hadn’t come up in any of the reports. “Look, I can’t stand here and listen to you accuse the entire crew.” Especially since four more people had stopped to watch. Jim turned and started walking away.
“What about Lieutenant Commander Baal?” Asked Veni. “He was cheating on Lieutenant Commander Vick for months. Hanging around sickbay and the archeology labs a lot.”
Jim turned back. “Half the crew saw him at movie night when Lieutenant Commander Vick was killed.” Jim mentally cursed himself for going back to defending people to the crowd.
A voice from the back piped up, “I think Ensign Garrett killed them all.”
“That’s absurd,” a person closer to the front replied. “Garrett hadn’t been near sickbay in months.”
“Thank you. He was also on in Engineering when Ensign Baloo was killed.”
Jim went to leave again but the flood gates had well and truly opened.
“Bettle.”
“Feriday.”
“It was Banes.”
“That jerk Stein.”
“Sun’s your killer.”
“Redell.”
“You bastard!” Ensign Asher caught Petty Officer Redell before he could charge into he crowd. “I never.”
“QUIET!” Jim bellowed. They hushed. “Now, I know you're all nervous, but pointing fingers is only going to make things worse. If any of you have facts to back up your accusations, Commander Spock and I would love to hear them.”
Lieutenant Veni broke in, “Why should we trust him? He’s probably the one who did it.”
Jim realized he was clenching his fist and made a effort to relax. “Unless you have any facts...?”
“He could have sabotaged the transporters, he knows how. He’s also in charge of all the medications they make.” Veni cried.
A faceless voice chimed in. “He’s been making all of them himself.”
“He’s strong enough to bash someone’s head in or throw them over a railing. And,” she stressed the word, “he could have rigged that holo to kill Garrett.”
Dear gods, the Enterprise rumor mill was efficient. “In order, any of the engineers and a bunch of other people knew how to fuck up a transporter and the rest could figure it out pretty quick. He didn’t make the medications that killed Ensign Bestine. Any human that passes the Starfleet starship physical has the strength to crack someone’s skull. Commander Spock has a solid alibi for Ensign Baloo’s death, and Lieutenant Commander Vick’s and Petty Officer Morn’s.”
“Really, what?” There was a fractious gleam in her eye.
“Me.” He stared her down. “Now, Lieutenant Veni, I believe you own me an alibi for each of the deaths.”
“I don’t have to.”
He interrupted her. “That’s an order from your Captain, Lieutenant.” She hesitated. “Start with Bestine. Have you been to the C deck quarters in the last two months?”
“Well, yes.” She said stunned.
“And when Ensign Baloo was killed?” Jim pressed.
“I was on duty.” She snapped with a frown.
“And your coworkers will confirm that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Lieutenant Commander Vick’s death? Were you at the movie that night?”
“No, sir.”
“Then where were you?”
“I was in my quarters.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, sir, I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Did you go to sickbay?”
“No, sir.”
“So, no-one can say you stayed in your quarters.”
Her back was ramrod straight. “I can, sir. I can say I didn’t leave my room and I did not kill anyone.”
“Just like Spock knows he didn’t kill anyone. Just like Dr. Lars knows he didn’t kill anyone, just like everyone except the murderer knows. So,” he looked out to the crowd, “unless someone knows more than the fact that they didn’t do it, get back to work.”
The crowd slowly dissolved from the edges. People on the fringe decided they didn’t want the Captain to see them there and slipped away. That gave the next layer of people room to drift away. Finally it was just Jim, Veni and Asher.
“Lieutenant, no more of this shit. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Stood at parade rest glaring past his right shoulder.
“Dismissed.” She turned sharply on her heel and marched off.
Jim continued his walk in silence. By the time they made it back to the conference room he felt a bit less like he would punch the wall when he stopped.
He found Spock seated in one of the chairs with his eyes closed. Jim dropped down beside him, elbows on the table, head in his hands. He turned to look at Spock through his fingers. “How much of the medication for sick bay do you make, personally?”
Spock opened his eyes to stare at the opposite wall. “For the last thirteen days, I have undertaken the production of all medications created by the science department.”
Thirteen days, since their talk of Vulcans and suicide. Somehow Jim couldn’t resist giving Spock a soppy smile.
~*~*~*~
Jim leaned back in his chair. “On a scale of one to ten, how hard would it be to turn off all the lights on Enterprise?”
Spock looked at him. “Excluding emergency lights?”
“Sure.” Jim shrugged.
“Eight-point-three-seven-six.” Spock responded promptly.
Jim rolled his eyes, amused. “I think you missed the point.”
“You did not specify the precision of your scale. Why would you undertake such a task?”
He briefly explained his conversation with Elizabeth, ending with, "They seemed to have had a good thing going." Jim left it hanging out there for Spock's reaction.
“That is suspect. She or an accomplice could use the event to perpetrate some maleficence, up to and including murder.”
“You think she is trying to get the lights turned off so she can kill someone?” Jim asked.
“I thought about it too. But turning out the lights that feels like a tradition. On the other hand I’ve never heard of it before.”
“Nor have I.” Spock told him. He had take one of the PADDs from the desk.
Jim wanted to get another person's opinion. Spock was great at many things but human idiosyncrasies wasn't one of them. “Do we have any other spacers who might know?”
“Lieutenant Umba’s thesis focused on the death rites of the African subgroups during the great horror. As such she is familiar with the funeral customs of many human subgroups.”
He hadn't known that. It actually explained a lot. “So she’s creepy in a professional capacity.”
“Creepy?” Spock looked up from his PADD.
Jim waved his hand lazily. “She’s been to all the funerals. I though it was odd. She didn’t seem particularly sad.”
“It is likely she is observing them as a scientist.” Spock nodded.
Jim set his feet on the floor and hoisted himself out of the chair. “Let’s have a chat with her. There are a few other things I want to ask her.”
They located her quickly in the main archeology lab. She ushered them into her office. She sat, smiling expectantly, with her hands clasped in front of her on the desk.
“What’s your opinion of Petty Officer G’zzkh's comedic skills?” Jim asked her.
The smile disappeared into confusion. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand.”
He smiled brightly as he repeated the question. “You were at the comedy night. What did you think of it?”
“It was alright.” She offered.
Jim stated blandly. “I noticed you spent the whole night with Dr. Evans and Lieutenant Commander Baal.”
“Yes, I did.” She replied equally blandly.
Jim knew he was skipping the polite questions but he wanted to keep her jumping. “And how was Lieutenant Commander Baal handling his break up with Lieutenant Commander Vick?”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “As he instigated the breakup he was doing well.”
“Do you know why he ended it?” Jim was curious how different her answer would be from Baal's.
“Yes.” She kept looking him in the eye.
Jim rolled his eyes. “Why did he end it?”
“Allen and I convinced him he would be more fulfilled if he joined our relationship.”
Jim blinked. “You seduced him?”
She rolled her eyes this time. Condescendingly she elaborated. “We made a compelling argument that Allen and I would provide superior mental, emotional and, yes, physical engagement then he was experiencing at the time.”
“What did Lieutenant Commander Vick think of that?” Jim pressed.
Lieutenant Umba gestured vaguely. “She was not happy. While she never approached me about it, I understand that she and Allen exchanged heated words on the subject. He mentioned her views on relationships were antiquated.”
“It never went beyond that?” Jim wondered.
She frowned. “We are all professionals and Allen was able to suggest several healthy coping mechanisms to her.”
Jim could imagine Vick’s reaction to that. Honestly, he was surprised no one had ended up with a split lip over this. Then again, they may just have had the good sense to keep it quiet. He let the silence stretch but Lieutenant Umba wasn’t inclined to fill it. Spock too seemed content to wait her out.
Finally he asked, “What do you know about spacer funerals?”
Lieutenant Umba blinked quickly. “They are far more likely to spread the ashes in space, having no more emotionally meaningful place to store them.”
“What about lights?”
“Ah, that is traditionally done as soon after death as feasible. The level of darkness varies across sub-groups. Some find it necessary to eliminate every light, including external running lights, others just turn off the ambient lights and leave panels and incidental lighting on. The length of time the lights remain off varies as well. It is roughly inversely proportional to the length of the contract a ship takes. So a ship on a one month freight contract might keep the lights out for a minute or more while a ship on a 6 or 8 month contract would only keep the lights off for ten seconds. Dr. Comer suggested in his paper on early space funeral customs that-”
Jim knew where this was going and didn’t have an hour to listen to it. “Thank you, Lieutenant Umba, that was very informative.”
Jim glanced at Spock with an inquiring eyebrow. He stood. “Indeed. Thank you Lieutenant.”
They left the labs and started back towards the conference room. “Why is it every time we seem to have a suspect they turn out to have a perfectly good explanation for what they’re doing?”
“Any reasonably intelligent person intent on murder would arrange a plausible excuse for their actions."
"True, but that doesn't help us and we are running out of time."
"Logically, since the murders have already been committed, we have until the end of the universe to determine the culprit."
"I can't have guards following me around until the end of time and you can't be metaphorically sleeping across my threshold for the rest of the mission."
"Inside your quarters would offer a better vantage point."
Jim stopped walking. "Spock, stop."
"I was merely-"
Jim held up a hand. "I’m having a thought." Spock regarded him curiously. He let the idea gel. It was unlikely, but was it impossible? "We need to talk to Scotty."
"About what?"
"Oranges." Spock tilted his head. "Come on. I'll explain when we get there."
Next: Part 12
Author:
j_green_teeth
Universe/Series: reboot
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3435 of ~41,000
Warnings: Minor/OC Character Death, discussion of Suicide (highlight to view complete warnings)
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock, implied Scotty/Uhura, OC/OC, ensemble, Many OCs
Jim jumped up. “Spock, what’s wrong?”
Spock scanned the room for threats before answering him. “You did not arrive when the match was scheduled to start.” Jim bit his lip. “You were also not in any of your typical locations when I endeavored to locate you.”
Oh, crap. He had gone missing and Spock couldn’t find him anywhere. With a murdered on the loose, no wonder Spock was wandering around with a phaser.
“Drat, I’m sorry Spock. I just ran into Elizabeth here and she needed a sympathetic ear.”
Elizabeth made a tiny wave and slipped passed Spock out the door. Spock glanced at her over his shoulder then fixed his eyes back on Jim. “I respectfully request that until this investigation is concluded, you carry a communicator with you at all times.”
Jim covered his eyes with his hand. “Please, please, tell me you didn’t do a shipwide broadcast.”
“You would have heard it had we issued one. No. Dr. McCoy pointed out that the crew would rightly interpret such a communication as proof that we did not know where the Captain was.”
“Good. Great.” Jim relaxed.
“I did not find this particularly compelling. Lieutenant Commander Baal pointed out that if you were indeed missing, I would have to assume your responsibilities, and it would then be questionable whether I could actively participate in a search for you.”
Jim narrowed his eyes. “Exactly how many people were involved in this discussion?”
“Five. Dr. McCoy, Lieutenant Commander Baal, Mr. Scott, Lieutenant Sulu and myself.” Spock reported. Jim had a sudden mental image of the five of them all in different colored jerseys having a huddled argument about what to do.
“Okay. Tell me nobody knows and nobody’s panicking.”
“Several crew members noted your absence from the field.”
“You started the games?” Jim headed into the hallway. He needed to get changed. Spock nodded. “Good. So who else is looking for me?”
“Since we agreed so many absent participants would be noticed, Reese, Asher, and Lieutenant Keenser were asked to discreetly inquire as to your whereabouts.” Spock fell in to step close behind him.
That wasn't too bad. Those three all knew how to keep calm. “You tell them I’m alright. I’m going to change and let people see me play football. How many of the crew are at the game?”
“I estimate ninety to ninety-five percent of the off duty personnel are in attendance.”
Jim whistled. “That many?”
“They are highly trained. I expect they recognized a pattern in the recent deaths.” Spock was still invading his personal space.
“Right. Safety in numbers. Spock, do you intend to follow me into the changing room?” They had reached the locker room and Spock wasn't getting any further away.
“Until you have been issued a communicator I will keep visual contact.” Spock said without so much as a twitch.
Jim took mental stock. Nope, today was not the day he was going to get naked in front of Spock. There should be flowers, candy or at least alcohol on that day. “You’ll have to settle for aural.” He grabbed his exercise gear and retreated into one of the changing rooms.
He heard Spock shift then the chirp of the communicator and Spock informing Reese, Asher and Keenser that the situation was resolved.
Jim pulled on his shorts and Command yellow T-shirt. Sulu had claimed he had been the last to choose jersey colors and had chosen yellow over the eye-searing purple. Jim wasn’t sure he believed him. Sulu actually looked good in yellow.
Jim came out, shoved his stuff in a locker and turned to find Spock doing a visual sweep of the room. “Right, let’s go.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Jim waited a moment before saying, “Spock, you may want to put that phaser away.”
“No, I find that I do not.”
Jim sighed. “Spock, I know you know there are regs about no live weapons on the field or in the audience during a football game.”
Spock looked down at the weapon in his hand then back at Jim. “I will return it to the armory after the games are complete,” Spock countered.
Jim was so going to bring this up next time Spock quoted regs at him. “You will return it now.”
“I will remove the power cell. It will then no longer be a live weapon.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “Fine, and don’t let anyone see it.”
They stepped into the gymnasium by a side door behind the spectator seating. “So if you were looking for me, who was refereeing the second game?”
The sound of yelling with a distinctly Southern tone reached his ears. “If I say you were offside, you were offside.”
“How’d you get him to...?” Jim waved a hand towards where Bones was browbeating a player in green.
“Under protest.”
Jim's team lost one to two the first game and nil to one the second. They carefully didn’t ask him where he had been or why he was late, or why Spock was rarely more than ten feet away from his side the entire night. Spock went so far as to walk Jim back to his quarters after the post-game chatter had broken up. He had mumbled a 'thanks' at his door. Spock was still standing in front of his door when it closed.
~*~*~*~
Jim decided to take a walk. He and Spock had spent the morning talking to several of Ensign Garrett’s friends. They all said the same thing. He was a nice guy, with a dramatic streak a mile wide. Lieutenant Gunther had added that he had been a good worker. He gave his work the same dedication as his flights of fancy. There was also the consensus that Ensign Garrett and Ensign Bestine were friends from way back, not lovers. Still a link, but it helped quash the insidious little voice in the back of his head saying that Elizabeth Daws had engineered their deaths as some sort of revenge.
Jim and Spock spent the afternoon trying to put what they learned into a coherent story. A network of loose ties between the victims was starting to emerge, but it wasn’t aligning to point in any one direction.
Jim had needed to get away from those six seats with their PADDs and prints that tried to convey the essences of their lost people. Spock wasn’t happy with Jim’s decision to stretch his legs. Even though Jim had a communicator and promised to keep it with him, Spock had hardly let him out of his sight. He had had to tell Spock exactly where he planned to walk and agree to take Ensign Asher with him before Spock would let him go without him. It left him feeling muddled. On the one hand Spock’s overbearing protectiveness was kind of sweet, for maybe a half hour. Jim was pretty sure Spock wouldn't react that way for any Captain; not that he would throw another Captain to the wolves. He would probably arrange a guard rota with ruthless efficiency, but he wouldn’t take on the duty personally.
The other side of it was that Jim hated, hated, hated having to take a guard with him when he walked around his own god damn ship. They were all supposed to be in this together. They were supposed to fight the Romulans, the Klingons, whatever freak of the week was trying to kill them at the time. But someone had broken ranks. One of their own was killing them. After that, Spock’s assumption he couldn’t take care of himself was small potatoes.
Jim was about three quarters of the way around the saucer section when he was stopped. “Captain, you caught the killer yet?”
He saw Lieutenant Veni along with Ensign Himshe and Chief Petty Officer Liefson standing in the hall. When she saw that she had his attention she called out again with her hands on her hips, “Well, sir, have you figured it out?”
Jim slowed and politely told her, “We are still looking for credible suspects.”
“What about Dr. Lars?” She asked loudly. “He was acting really strange at Baloo’s funeral.”
Ensign Himshe added, “And I heard he was responsible for Malea’s death.”
Petty Officers Goon and Salavtos had stopped walking to gawk at the confrontation. Jim squared up to her, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that said this would not lead to good things. “Lieutenant Veni, Dr. Lars was on duty during Ensigns Baloo's, Garrett's and Petty Officer Morn’s deaths.”
“Well-” Lieutenant Veni was interrupted by Petty Officer Salavtos.
“What about Turner? He’s been acting pretty shifty since Lieutenant Commander Vick died.”
Jim wasn’t actually sure who Turner was. The name hadn’t come up in any of the reports. “Look, I can’t stand here and listen to you accuse the entire crew.” Especially since four more people had stopped to watch. Jim turned and started walking away.
“What about Lieutenant Commander Baal?” Asked Veni. “He was cheating on Lieutenant Commander Vick for months. Hanging around sickbay and the archeology labs a lot.”
Jim turned back. “Half the crew saw him at movie night when Lieutenant Commander Vick was killed.” Jim mentally cursed himself for going back to defending people to the crowd.
A voice from the back piped up, “I think Ensign Garrett killed them all.”
“That’s absurd,” a person closer to the front replied. “Garrett hadn’t been near sickbay in months.”
“Thank you. He was also on in Engineering when Ensign Baloo was killed.”
Jim went to leave again but the flood gates had well and truly opened.
“Bettle.”
“Feriday.”
“It was Banes.”
“That jerk Stein.”
“Sun’s your killer.”
“Redell.”
“You bastard!” Ensign Asher caught Petty Officer Redell before he could charge into he crowd. “I never.”
“QUIET!” Jim bellowed. They hushed. “Now, I know you're all nervous, but pointing fingers is only going to make things worse. If any of you have facts to back up your accusations, Commander Spock and I would love to hear them.”
Lieutenant Veni broke in, “Why should we trust him? He’s probably the one who did it.”
Jim realized he was clenching his fist and made a effort to relax. “Unless you have any facts...?”
“He could have sabotaged the transporters, he knows how. He’s also in charge of all the medications they make.” Veni cried.
A faceless voice chimed in. “He’s been making all of them himself.”
“He’s strong enough to bash someone’s head in or throw them over a railing. And,” she stressed the word, “he could have rigged that holo to kill Garrett.”
Dear gods, the Enterprise rumor mill was efficient. “In order, any of the engineers and a bunch of other people knew how to fuck up a transporter and the rest could figure it out pretty quick. He didn’t make the medications that killed Ensign Bestine. Any human that passes the Starfleet starship physical has the strength to crack someone’s skull. Commander Spock has a solid alibi for Ensign Baloo’s death, and Lieutenant Commander Vick’s and Petty Officer Morn’s.”
“Really, what?” There was a fractious gleam in her eye.
“Me.” He stared her down. “Now, Lieutenant Veni, I believe you own me an alibi for each of the deaths.”
“I don’t have to.”
He interrupted her. “That’s an order from your Captain, Lieutenant.” She hesitated. “Start with Bestine. Have you been to the C deck quarters in the last two months?”
“Well, yes.” She said stunned.
“And when Ensign Baloo was killed?” Jim pressed.
“I was on duty.” She snapped with a frown.
“And your coworkers will confirm that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Lieutenant Commander Vick’s death? Were you at the movie that night?”
“No, sir.”
“Then where were you?”
“I was in my quarters.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, sir, I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Did you go to sickbay?”
“No, sir.”
“So, no-one can say you stayed in your quarters.”
Her back was ramrod straight. “I can, sir. I can say I didn’t leave my room and I did not kill anyone.”
“Just like Spock knows he didn’t kill anyone. Just like Dr. Lars knows he didn’t kill anyone, just like everyone except the murderer knows. So,” he looked out to the crowd, “unless someone knows more than the fact that they didn’t do it, get back to work.”
The crowd slowly dissolved from the edges. People on the fringe decided they didn’t want the Captain to see them there and slipped away. That gave the next layer of people room to drift away. Finally it was just Jim, Veni and Asher.
“Lieutenant, no more of this shit. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Stood at parade rest glaring past his right shoulder.
“Dismissed.” She turned sharply on her heel and marched off.
Jim continued his walk in silence. By the time they made it back to the conference room he felt a bit less like he would punch the wall when he stopped.
He found Spock seated in one of the chairs with his eyes closed. Jim dropped down beside him, elbows on the table, head in his hands. He turned to look at Spock through his fingers. “How much of the medication for sick bay do you make, personally?”
Spock opened his eyes to stare at the opposite wall. “For the last thirteen days, I have undertaken the production of all medications created by the science department.”
Thirteen days, since their talk of Vulcans and suicide. Somehow Jim couldn’t resist giving Spock a soppy smile.
~*~*~*~
Jim leaned back in his chair. “On a scale of one to ten, how hard would it be to turn off all the lights on Enterprise?”
Spock looked at him. “Excluding emergency lights?”
“Sure.” Jim shrugged.
“Eight-point-three-seven-six.” Spock responded promptly.
Jim rolled his eyes, amused. “I think you missed the point.”
“You did not specify the precision of your scale. Why would you undertake such a task?”
He briefly explained his conversation with Elizabeth, ending with, "They seemed to have had a good thing going." Jim left it hanging out there for Spock's reaction.
“That is suspect. She or an accomplice could use the event to perpetrate some maleficence, up to and including murder.”
“You think she is trying to get the lights turned off so she can kill someone?” Jim asked.
“I thought about it too. But turning out the lights that feels like a tradition. On the other hand I’ve never heard of it before.”
“Nor have I.” Spock told him. He had take one of the PADDs from the desk.
Jim wanted to get another person's opinion. Spock was great at many things but human idiosyncrasies wasn't one of them. “Do we have any other spacers who might know?”
“Lieutenant Umba’s thesis focused on the death rites of the African subgroups during the great horror. As such she is familiar with the funeral customs of many human subgroups.”
He hadn't known that. It actually explained a lot. “So she’s creepy in a professional capacity.”
“Creepy?” Spock looked up from his PADD.
Jim waved his hand lazily. “She’s been to all the funerals. I though it was odd. She didn’t seem particularly sad.”
“It is likely she is observing them as a scientist.” Spock nodded.
Jim set his feet on the floor and hoisted himself out of the chair. “Let’s have a chat with her. There are a few other things I want to ask her.”
They located her quickly in the main archeology lab. She ushered them into her office. She sat, smiling expectantly, with her hands clasped in front of her on the desk.
“What’s your opinion of Petty Officer G’zzkh's comedic skills?” Jim asked her.
The smile disappeared into confusion. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand.”
He smiled brightly as he repeated the question. “You were at the comedy night. What did you think of it?”
“It was alright.” She offered.
Jim stated blandly. “I noticed you spent the whole night with Dr. Evans and Lieutenant Commander Baal.”
“Yes, I did.” She replied equally blandly.
Jim knew he was skipping the polite questions but he wanted to keep her jumping. “And how was Lieutenant Commander Baal handling his break up with Lieutenant Commander Vick?”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “As he instigated the breakup he was doing well.”
“Do you know why he ended it?” Jim was curious how different her answer would be from Baal's.
“Yes.” She kept looking him in the eye.
Jim rolled his eyes. “Why did he end it?”
“Allen and I convinced him he would be more fulfilled if he joined our relationship.”
Jim blinked. “You seduced him?”
She rolled her eyes this time. Condescendingly she elaborated. “We made a compelling argument that Allen and I would provide superior mental, emotional and, yes, physical engagement then he was experiencing at the time.”
“What did Lieutenant Commander Vick think of that?” Jim pressed.
Lieutenant Umba gestured vaguely. “She was not happy. While she never approached me about it, I understand that she and Allen exchanged heated words on the subject. He mentioned her views on relationships were antiquated.”
“It never went beyond that?” Jim wondered.
She frowned. “We are all professionals and Allen was able to suggest several healthy coping mechanisms to her.”
Jim could imagine Vick’s reaction to that. Honestly, he was surprised no one had ended up with a split lip over this. Then again, they may just have had the good sense to keep it quiet. He let the silence stretch but Lieutenant Umba wasn’t inclined to fill it. Spock too seemed content to wait her out.
Finally he asked, “What do you know about spacer funerals?”
Lieutenant Umba blinked quickly. “They are far more likely to spread the ashes in space, having no more emotionally meaningful place to store them.”
“What about lights?”
“Ah, that is traditionally done as soon after death as feasible. The level of darkness varies across sub-groups. Some find it necessary to eliminate every light, including external running lights, others just turn off the ambient lights and leave panels and incidental lighting on. The length of time the lights remain off varies as well. It is roughly inversely proportional to the length of the contract a ship takes. So a ship on a one month freight contract might keep the lights out for a minute or more while a ship on a 6 or 8 month contract would only keep the lights off for ten seconds. Dr. Comer suggested in his paper on early space funeral customs that-”
Jim knew where this was going and didn’t have an hour to listen to it. “Thank you, Lieutenant Umba, that was very informative.”
Jim glanced at Spock with an inquiring eyebrow. He stood. “Indeed. Thank you Lieutenant.”
They left the labs and started back towards the conference room. “Why is it every time we seem to have a suspect they turn out to have a perfectly good explanation for what they’re doing?”
“Any reasonably intelligent person intent on murder would arrange a plausible excuse for their actions."
"True, but that doesn't help us and we are running out of time."
"Logically, since the murders have already been committed, we have until the end of the universe to determine the culprit."
"I can't have guards following me around until the end of time and you can't be metaphorically sleeping across my threshold for the rest of the mission."
"Inside your quarters would offer a better vantage point."
Jim stopped walking. "Spock, stop."
"I was merely-"
Jim held up a hand. "I’m having a thought." Spock regarded him curiously. He let the idea gel. It was unlikely, but was it impossible? "We need to talk to Scotty."
"About what?"
"Oranges." Spock tilted his head. "Come on. I'll explain when we get there."
Next: Part 12