Disclaimer: The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly Productions and UPN/Paramount, not me.
_______________________
SPEAKING FOR HIMSELF
_______________________
Blair was jerked out of a sound sleep by the phone ringing next to his head. Jim had insisted that he put a phone in his room so that the big Sentinel wouldn't be forced to drag his partner out of bed every time they were called in on a case early in the morning. The phone would do it for him. Blair looked at the clock. 4:00 a.m. Man! The previous night's party had only lasted until 1:00, but still! That was only three hours down, and he really didn't want to get up.
Still, it wasn't normal for Simon to call them in so early, so this must be really important. Grudgingly, Blair sat up and pulled his legs around the side of the bed, waiting for Jim to tell him what was up.
Soon, Elision came into the room. "Get dressed, Chief. The strangler hit again." That was all the impetus Blair needed. This particular serial killer was starting to get to the both of them. He didn't even leave enough evidence behind for a Sentinel to follow! He always used found objects to commit the crime, he always cleaned up after himself, and he did it using ammonia, a chemical that rendered every scent in the room useless to Jim. He was targeting academic types with dark hair, blue eyes and glasses, the kind that Megan called "Nerdy, but nice looking." It was a type that only three years ago Blair would have fit to a tee, and that bugged him.
When they arrived at the scene, Simon was already there, trying to supervise the crime scene. Jim walked over to their superior and asked, "What've we got, Captain?"
The tall black man sighed. "Nothing new so far, and even I can smell the ammonia in there."
Jim frowned. That was why he hadn't been able to contribute anything to this case, he was sure of it. The pervasive odor got into everything, blocking out all other smells, even to him. "Well, let's just take a look and see if we can find something. There's always the possibility that the creep missed something." Simon snorted. They both knew how likely that was, but he had to try.
Blair and Jim went into the science lab of Rainier University. This was the general lab, used for all kinds of weird experiments, not all of which could be identified on sight by those who had no knowledge of the fields in which they were being conducted. Simon came up behind them as they reached the body. "Patrick Edison, 24. Sonic engineering major here at the University. Killed just like the others, this time with the chain off the emergency shower."
Blair asked, "Do we know why Edison was in here this late?"
Simon nodded. "Apparently the final projects are due next week and he was putting some finishing touches on that gadget over there." He pointed to one of the counters at a machine, the basic design of which Blair recognized instantly. Then he realized the thing was still running!
"Jim! I think we caught a break."
Twin "Huh?"s came from his partner and boss.
Blair went to the machine, and after putting on his gloves he turned the machine off. "Patrick Edison. I remember him now. He was just a freshman the last year I was here, but he was a very passionate one. He chose sonic engineering as his field, but his real passion was in older technology, historical sound recording equipment, like phonographs. He showed me some of his designs once when he was taking my intro class. It was a modification of Thomas Edison's phonograph design that used longer cylinders and a slightly harder wax that would produce a more precise recording. He thought he could probably get CD quality sound out of them." While he was telling them this, Blair had removed the recording needle, opened the cartridge, and gently removed the wax cylinder from the machine.
Jim said, "Sandburg, how does that help us?"
Blair grinned ferally. "The machine was running. That means it was recording when the killer came in. This was probably a test run, since I think he wanted to put music on these for his final and there's not a CD player here. That means there won't be any interference if the killer came in while there was still plenty of room on the cylinder. If he came in the right time frame, then the murder is going to be on it."
Jim grinned back. "How big of a time frame are we talking here?"
"I don't know. I need to see his notes. Or we can just play the thing and find out."
Simon said, "We probably want to get his notes anyway, Sandburg. That way we cover all our bases."
Everything was packed up and taken to the station by the people from forensics, all except the souped up phonograph itself. Blair wanted to make sure that the thing wasn't rattled too badly by the trip, so he went to find the department head to put it in a shock absorbing container. When asked why, he said that he remembered what had happened to his Uncle's phonograph when it got bumped by a certain bouncy seven-year-old. The thing would never play right again, and this particular one was still experimental. He didn't want to take any chances on it being damaged since it was the only player in existence that would play Patrick's cylinders. They were too long for an older machine.
Once they got to the station with everything, they got everyone together to play the fateful cylinder. The first two minutes were only of Patrick. It was a test run, so he was just spouting off into the recording horn, being silly, anything to put sound onto the wax. The sound quality was just as advertised, and it saddened Blair to think that he would never get to see the fruits of his labor. Then he said, "Well I guess that's enough for this run. I'll just get this thing- Hey! What are you doing in here, Jackson? You aren't supposed to be in the labs any more." There was the sound of the chain being removed from the shower. "Hey! That's school property! What are you-?" Then the sounds of the scuffle ensued. There were the sounds of a struggle, then choking noises. Finally, all sound stopped for a moment. Then came the sound of a body hitting the floor of the lab. After a moment, before the last bit of wax ran out, the voice of the killer came out of the big brass bell of the phonograph. "That'll teach you nerds to get ahead of yourselves."
Six minutes of sound. That was the legacy of Patrick Edison, the last anyone would ever hear of his voice. But now they would be able to catch his killer, and keep any others from being killed.
They later arrested one Bret Jackson, a jock who had been kicked out of the labs for destroying the work of other students. He had been placed on academic suspension and lost his scholarship, and he had blamed the "nerds" for all his troubles.
The case had bugged Jim the whole time. After the arrest, he and his partner had gone home, glad that the ordeal was finally over. That night, Jim stood out on the balcony in the crisp autumn weather, looking out over his city. Blair came out behind him, not worried that he would startle the Sentinel. He was, however, worried about Jim's seeming withdrawal. "Hey, Jim." The big man grunted in acknowledgment. Well THAT was encouraging. "What's wrong?"
"I couldn't do anything, Chief. The guy was so thorough that even I couldn't get a bead on him."
"Hey, it's not like anyone else could either. We got lucky. Patrick's machine was the only clue we needed."
"Yeah, but what would have happened if Jackson had come at a different time? I was useless for the whole case!"
Blair sighed. "Jim, your not Superman. You're human, just like the rest of us. You won't be able to catch every bad guy. That's just the way it is, even for a Sentinel."
Jim groaned and leaned back on the brick work of the building. "You have no idea how much that scares me, Chief. What if the next one isn't just going after some college students? What if he goes after you?"
"We'll burn that bridge if we get to it. For now just remember that sometimes the victim can speak for himself. And sometimes that's enough."
Jim looked at his Guide. He was right. He wasn't God, to see every sparrow's fall. He couldn't fix everything. But he didn't have to like it.
The End
_______________________
SPEAKING FOR HIMSELF
_______________________
Blair was jerked out of a sound sleep by the phone ringing next to his head. Jim had insisted that he put a phone in his room so that the big Sentinel wouldn't be forced to drag his partner out of bed every time they were called in on a case early in the morning. The phone would do it for him. Blair looked at the clock. 4:00 a.m. Man! The previous night's party had only lasted until 1:00, but still! That was only three hours down, and he really didn't want to get up.
Still, it wasn't normal for Simon to call them in so early, so this must be really important. Grudgingly, Blair sat up and pulled his legs around the side of the bed, waiting for Jim to tell him what was up.
Soon, Elision came into the room. "Get dressed, Chief. The strangler hit again." That was all the impetus Blair needed. This particular serial killer was starting to get to the both of them. He didn't even leave enough evidence behind for a Sentinel to follow! He always used found objects to commit the crime, he always cleaned up after himself, and he did it using ammonia, a chemical that rendered every scent in the room useless to Jim. He was targeting academic types with dark hair, blue eyes and glasses, the kind that Megan called "Nerdy, but nice looking." It was a type that only three years ago Blair would have fit to a tee, and that bugged him.
When they arrived at the scene, Simon was already there, trying to supervise the crime scene. Jim walked over to their superior and asked, "What've we got, Captain?"
The tall black man sighed. "Nothing new so far, and even I can smell the ammonia in there."
Jim frowned. That was why he hadn't been able to contribute anything to this case, he was sure of it. The pervasive odor got into everything, blocking out all other smells, even to him. "Well, let's just take a look and see if we can find something. There's always the possibility that the creep missed something." Simon snorted. They both knew how likely that was, but he had to try.
Blair and Jim went into the science lab of Rainier University. This was the general lab, used for all kinds of weird experiments, not all of which could be identified on sight by those who had no knowledge of the fields in which they were being conducted. Simon came up behind them as they reached the body. "Patrick Edison, 24. Sonic engineering major here at the University. Killed just like the others, this time with the chain off the emergency shower."
Blair asked, "Do we know why Edison was in here this late?"
Simon nodded. "Apparently the final projects are due next week and he was putting some finishing touches on that gadget over there." He pointed to one of the counters at a machine, the basic design of which Blair recognized instantly. Then he realized the thing was still running!
"Jim! I think we caught a break."
Twin "Huh?"s came from his partner and boss.
Blair went to the machine, and after putting on his gloves he turned the machine off. "Patrick Edison. I remember him now. He was just a freshman the last year I was here, but he was a very passionate one. He chose sonic engineering as his field, but his real passion was in older technology, historical sound recording equipment, like phonographs. He showed me some of his designs once when he was taking my intro class. It was a modification of Thomas Edison's phonograph design that used longer cylinders and a slightly harder wax that would produce a more precise recording. He thought he could probably get CD quality sound out of them." While he was telling them this, Blair had removed the recording needle, opened the cartridge, and gently removed the wax cylinder from the machine.
Jim said, "Sandburg, how does that help us?"
Blair grinned ferally. "The machine was running. That means it was recording when the killer came in. This was probably a test run, since I think he wanted to put music on these for his final and there's not a CD player here. That means there won't be any interference if the killer came in while there was still plenty of room on the cylinder. If he came in the right time frame, then the murder is going to be on it."
Jim grinned back. "How big of a time frame are we talking here?"
"I don't know. I need to see his notes. Or we can just play the thing and find out."
Simon said, "We probably want to get his notes anyway, Sandburg. That way we cover all our bases."
Everything was packed up and taken to the station by the people from forensics, all except the souped up phonograph itself. Blair wanted to make sure that the thing wasn't rattled too badly by the trip, so he went to find the department head to put it in a shock absorbing container. When asked why, he said that he remembered what had happened to his Uncle's phonograph when it got bumped by a certain bouncy seven-year-old. The thing would never play right again, and this particular one was still experimental. He didn't want to take any chances on it being damaged since it was the only player in existence that would play Patrick's cylinders. They were too long for an older machine.
Once they got to the station with everything, they got everyone together to play the fateful cylinder. The first two minutes were only of Patrick. It was a test run, so he was just spouting off into the recording horn, being silly, anything to put sound onto the wax. The sound quality was just as advertised, and it saddened Blair to think that he would never get to see the fruits of his labor. Then he said, "Well I guess that's enough for this run. I'll just get this thing- Hey! What are you doing in here, Jackson? You aren't supposed to be in the labs any more." There was the sound of the chain being removed from the shower. "Hey! That's school property! What are you-?" Then the sounds of the scuffle ensued. There were the sounds of a struggle, then choking noises. Finally, all sound stopped for a moment. Then came the sound of a body hitting the floor of the lab. After a moment, before the last bit of wax ran out, the voice of the killer came out of the big brass bell of the phonograph. "That'll teach you nerds to get ahead of yourselves."
Six minutes of sound. That was the legacy of Patrick Edison, the last anyone would ever hear of his voice. But now they would be able to catch his killer, and keep any others from being killed.
They later arrested one Bret Jackson, a jock who had been kicked out of the labs for destroying the work of other students. He had been placed on academic suspension and lost his scholarship, and he had blamed the "nerds" for all his troubles.
The case had bugged Jim the whole time. After the arrest, he and his partner had gone home, glad that the ordeal was finally over. That night, Jim stood out on the balcony in the crisp autumn weather, looking out over his city. Blair came out behind him, not worried that he would startle the Sentinel. He was, however, worried about Jim's seeming withdrawal. "Hey, Jim." The big man grunted in acknowledgment. Well THAT was encouraging. "What's wrong?"
"I couldn't do anything, Chief. The guy was so thorough that even I couldn't get a bead on him."
"Hey, it's not like anyone else could either. We got lucky. Patrick's machine was the only clue we needed."
"Yeah, but what would have happened if Jackson had come at a different time? I was useless for the whole case!"
Blair sighed. "Jim, your not Superman. You're human, just like the rest of us. You won't be able to catch every bad guy. That's just the way it is, even for a Sentinel."
Jim groaned and leaned back on the brick work of the building. "You have no idea how much that scares me, Chief. What if the next one isn't just going after some college students? What if he goes after you?"
"We'll burn that bridge if we get to it. For now just remember that sometimes the victim can speak for himself. And sometimes that's enough."
Jim looked at his Guide. He was right. He wasn't God, to see every sparrow's fall. He couldn't fix everything. But he didn't have to like it.
The End