Chapter Nine
If You Hear Screaming
The long hours of Investigation conclude for the principals in Enterprise-E's Holodeck 3 where Gibbs, Picard, DiNozzo, Riker, McGee, Data, Sciuto, Worf, David, Troi, Michelle Palmer and Cassidy stand in front of the white couch and listen to Dr. Mallard, flanked by Crusher and Jimmy Palmer, on the other side of the couch in Edaniya Kelbron's recreated living room.
Using the records collected today, integrated with the original Crime Scene hologram, the rendition of the morning scene is as close as can reasonably be created, to the extent that the young woman's bloody body lays supine before the large white couch upon the aquatic carpet between the two groups, her head to the left of the larger group, in even more lifelike detail than it had had originally.
Blood so light red as to be nearly pink still mars the blue and green interlocking design of her dress from upper chest to stomach, the wound a thin hole between her breasts. Her lavender eyes stare up, a particularly disconcerting sight, at the skylight through which the double light of the two suns streams onto her body. Her sheer, almost translucent dress isn't rumpled, her very light brown hair is neatly arrayed, her expression placid as though she'd merely fallen asleep upon the aquatic rug.
The split curtained front door beyond the trio of doctors is the 'updated' one, the formerly wiped clean silver panel beside it marked with blue smears which bring back to visibility the once deep pink blood.
An evidently comfortable chair to the gathered scientists' and officers' right centers a mini alcove defined by light curtains that back two large and well stocked book stands, all surrounded by numerous green plants and exotic multi-hued flowers, the scents of which are graciously if unnecessarily recreated by the computer. Several attractive and fragrant plants in baskets hang from chains in various parts of the room. The windows at the rear of the image are large, but rather than glass they contain a collection of circular holes through a thin wooden panel, one large hole in each, two medium size and many small circles, yet the patterns of circles are different for each window.
x
"The young lady's cause of death was, as has not been contested," Mallard explains, indicating the image of the body forward of the couch between the two groups, "punctures of the fourth and sixth chambers of her heart by a single incision of the horizontal wall dividing said chambers. The Risian heart, of course, has six chambers allowing for three arterial pathways to the brain, the third in the back of the neck as opposed to the human twin carotid arteries. This results in greater oxygen flow through the body, which no doubt contributes to their stamina. Unfortunately, in this case the evolutionary advantage worked against her."
"How?" Riker asks.
"The flow of reconstituted blood to the three arterial systems was cut off simultaneously when the heart stopped when it was incised. Risians, with their three pathways, are as dependent as humans are on blood flow maintained at an appropriate pressure. In most cases it is less likely all the arteries will be compromised, but in Miss Kelbron's case this did happen with the simultaneous loss of two chambers. Loss of blood pressure to the brain was catastrophic. She would certainly have been unconscious even before her body struck the floor. Death, if not immediate, would have taken perhaps as many as three seconds. Judging by the fact that her eyes were open, however, I am inclined to believe death was instantaneous, that she was dead before she fell."
"Do we know now what killed her?" Picard asks Crusher, but it's Mallard who answers.
"The cause of death is a double edged blade shaped like an isosceles triangle, at least 17.78 centimeters long and at least 4 centimeters wide. Bruising about the wound would hint at a slightly larger guard for the blade, but this is inconclusive."
"Were you able to determine anything about whoever did it?" Picard asks.
"From the angle of the wound, I estimate that her assailant was at least 12 centimeters taller than she is."
"Putting him or her at at least 1.8 meters," Riker concludes.
x
"What else did you learn?" Picard asks.
"She was busy," Palmer puts in.
"What my colleague wishes to convey," Mallard says in testy tone, "is that we found evidence that the young lady had relations with two individuals within the two days prior to her death."
"Two?"
"DNA analysis," Crusher takes over, "doesn't show when she was intimate with either man, and we're still working to separate the genetic material. I can't identify specifics yet. At this moment I can only tell you that there are two distinct patterns. It could have been someone from the Enterprise crew or not, but there is no record on file of DNA from the Risians nor any other guests."
"'Fraid that won't help either, Skipper," Gibbs says. "Not without being able to conclusively say who saw her alive last."
"If reasonable doubt can be established," Picard declares, "that the last person to see the woman was one of the Enterprise crew, that would assist in the negotiations."
"From what you tell us, the Risians aren't interested in 'reasonable doubt'," Gibbs counters. "They consider their decision that it was a human Enterprise crewman who killed her to be reasonable. In fact, they consider it the only reasonable conclusion."
"We can't even prove the killer had sex with her or not," Michelle says. "That's the Risians' decision."
"Captain," Crusher interjects, "it's impossible to determine with absolute certainty the sequence of who was intimate with her when."
"But surely, Doctor–."
"Humans and Risians, despite appearances, are not biologically compatible. A Risian woman cannot conceive from a human male, nor do the enzymes in her body break down human sperm as would take place in a human woman, which begins immediately upon sexual intercourse. Unlike in a Risian to Risian pairing, the Risian body simply does not recognize human genetic material.
"This destruction of such cells in like physiologies is why conception is more of a race or well timed accomplishment than people realize. If not for those enzymes that start destroying male reproductive cells from the moment of intercourse, every woman would have a 100% prospect of becoming pregnant each time she had intercourse."
"So Kelbron would feel no particular need to..."
"No, she wouldn't."
He's grateful she hadn't obliged him to be explicit.
"The only thing I can tell you about her sexual activity," Crusher says, "is that while we cannot say with 100% certainty that she's never been pregnant, we're certain she has never given birth."
"What else did your examination reveal? Can you use the temperature when she was found or the settling of blood to establish a time?"
x
"With a Risian at this stage of our medical knowledge of their biology," Ducky says, again taking the lead, "we cannot isolate a time, but rather of a range. Or rather, we might had anyone bothered to determine her core temperature at the time she was first found. Furthermore, given the hours between when her body was discovered and the holoimage indicates the Investigation - such as it was - had taken place we would be left only with the ambient temperature of the room countered by the light of two suns shining upon her body," he indicated the image before them.
"Contrary to popular misconception, there is no more an established rate of progress even among humans than among other species. The rate of core temperature loss in humans is known but that is affected by ambient temperature as well as numerous other factors. We have no reliable figures on Risians, so even if I knew the core and ambient temperatures at the time her body was found I could not give you an adequately accurate range of time.
"Using core temperature loss as the sole indicator of time of death for humans, I can give a reliable time which I prefer to express as a four hour range at best, but with Risians I cannot be even that specific without more information than the Risians are, at this point, willing the share."
x
Beverly has not challenged Ducky's usurping of answers, nor would she try to challenge their length or detail. He evidently feels well established in his role as primary ME, something Crusher, as the one addressed, could challenge. If their patient were living she would claim primacy, particularly in the questions directed to her by her Captain, but since the patient is dead she does not.
"We speak in established generalities and then use other determinations to assist in establishing the facts," Ducky continues. "For instance, livor mortis starts to fix in a human from approximately twenty minutes to three hours, depending upon several factors, all of which must be taken into consideration, progresses over four to five hours and reaches maximum anywhere from six to twelve hours after death.
"After that there is no further change in the blood," the Forensic Pathologist winds down his explanation. "It has broken through the decaying cellular membranes of the arteries, veins and capillaries and stained the flesh.
"However, due to the limited medical information we do have on Risian physiology and what happens to them when they die, we lack sufficient information with which to make accurate projections."
"In other words, you don't know."
"Correct."
x
He's glad of the short answer, and sees in the expressions of the man's colleagues that this is type of pedantic presentation is not uncommon for the good doctor. Listening to his answers in a Court of Law must be interesting, as Expert Witnesses are exempt from 'yes' and 'no' constraints, but in this late afternoon short answers are preferable. "So when she was killed, she was perhaps laid flat upon her back," Picard says, particularly focusing his point to Crusher. "Any significance of the placement of the body?"
"I'd say it indicates care for her," Crusher says, "as opposed to just leaving her how she fell when she was killed."
x
"Do we know yet who found the body?" This is one on the myriad details excluded from the few and uninformative reports.
"No." DiNozzo had been quiet to this point, absorbing the details. Now his tone speaks for his entire team.
"Where was her grandfather at that time?"
"He was in Cintara rather than in his home in Gotram, 31 kilometers away. Apparently he was in town for a meeting of the Council. He was seen in the atrium near the Council Chamber late that evening, but of course no one noted or shared a time. But there's no information on when he got to the girl's place.
"The only fact we have is that whoever it was who found her did so at 2046, or less than a half hour before local midnight."
The Deputy Chief sounds particularly disgusted and Gibbs seconds the view. "This whole case has been mishandled from the first minute. We don't know who found her or what he or she did. We don't know if the body was moved, destroying uncountable clues. The Crime Scene was compromised by over two dozen unidentified people traipsing in and out. The body was probably moved out of meaning from when she died but it was taken from the scene before any competent person could see it, and if we hadn't blistered subspace she'd have been buried by the next midnight. Evidence wasn't preserved. Witnesses, if any, weren't identified and weren't properly interviewed and memories have had a week to blur and change. Official information came in piecemeal during negotiations by subspace radio to the Council or to our Command..."
There's little point in continuing the atrocious litany
xxx
The ship's ambient lighting has dimmed to evening and Jimmy and Michelle Palmer dine together in Ten Forward, this time at a starboard table, the transparent aluminum window beside them displaying the slowly moving skyscape of stars as the ship orbits the somewhat rapidly moving planet.
Ever since the advent of ubiquitous use of replicators, choices of food have expanded vastly from previous centuries and their selections of New England Lobster and Castillian Beefsteak reflect those freedoms. Now, meals complete, and since last night the Agents had been hosted at the Captain's table, they're wondering if ship's etiquette is for them to clear their own table back to the bar or await one of the two attendants when Jimmy, his face illuminated by the three quarters Risa at the huge port windows, turns to her. "Darling?"
"Yes, sweetie?" She realizes too late that she should've been warned by his expression if not his tone. She'd grown complacent and careless over the pleasant meal and a distant mission and now she's a captive victim.
"What do you call society on Janus VI?"
'Oh, no.' "I don't know," she admits, praying he'll be merciful.
"Horta culture."
She shifts from her chair opposite him to the one on her right, leans close and tries to make her whisper sound more like an offer than a plea. "Shut up and kiss me."
He does and its very nice, but she can tell from his lips that she's not getting him out of the mood, that he's not done abusing her. It's a pity she can't make the kiss last the duration of the mission, for as she pulls away she sees her fate in his eyes and steels herself for the inevitable.
"You know, honey, I just don't understand you," he says.
This surprises her. "Why not?"
"I've told you ten puns so far today to make you laugh but no pun in ten did."
She winces, then sighs. "All right. One more try. See what you can do."
"What do you say when your companion abandons you on Risa?"
'Great, a topical one.' "I don't know." 'I really do say that a lot.'
"Horga'hn."
x
She actually feels her expression fall, then feelings that have nothing to do with pleasure or tolerance flare. "That's in poor taste."
She gathers their plates and glasses, drops their utensils into the latter with loud tinkles and carries the stack away, not caring who noticed the noise as she heads for the bar, deposits the dining ware on the edge, hoping her expression will discourage questions.
She starts for the wooden exit doors across the large room but notices to her right, backlit by the planet where the binary suns have not set over Cintara, Ziva and Paula by their blue uniforms at a long table with Doctor Crusher and Counselor Troi. Fortunately there's space at the table because she hadn't wanted to make a grand exit, preferring to leave Jimmy time to redeem himself - if he can this time.
x
Crossing the room, she steps up behind a vacant chair. "May I join you?"
"Of course," Crusher says, the other women equally welcoming but she reads in Troi's face as she sits down a measure of concern. Troi's facing the starboard side of the room and she glances back only long enough to see Jimmy watching her. She sees in the other women's eyes the same budding thought as she settles herself. "He's in a 'time-out'," she explains.
"Oh?" Ziva asks.
"He's punning."
"Ohhhh." The Proxima Vegan Guardian looks to their companions. "Jimmy Palmer's puns are legendary."
"The worst," she emphasizes.
"The last time he got on a roll, a nearby G2 star went nova just to get out of its misery."
Crusher smiles. "Like Data at his start trying to tell jokes."
Troi smiles. "Were he here, his first observation would be," she switches to a credible imitation, "'G Class stars do not possess sufficient mass to initiate nova'."
Paula, who hasn't spent more than this mission with any of H-Alpha 7, doesn't turn her head but shifts only her eyes to look across the room and feels she should extend some support for her forlorn colleague. "Is he really that bad?"
"He drove me away with only three."
"That is a new low," Ziva admits.
"Come on," Paula scoffs. Michelle hits her with the Janus VI one. "I've heard worse. What were the others?"
She tells them the 'no pun in ten did' and it doesn't seem to hurt them as much as it had her. "And the last?" Paula asks.
"You don't want to know," she says, having no intention of repeating the last, ever. She glances to the last empty chair to change the subject and because she hasn't seen the woman in hours. "Where's Abby?"
"In her Cloister," Ziva replies.
"Not you too! I'll go stark raving mad if I have to hear another one tonight."
"She is analyzing the evidence."
"Poor dear." The worst thing she can imagine, short of a full barrage of her husband's puns, is to be trapped in a lab all evening, especially with the vacation spot of the galaxy right beside the orbiting Starship. However, it's in that environment that her friend thrives.
"She loves it," Ziva assures their companions. "I believe that if she had an easy evening with nothing to analyze she would go 'stark raving mad'."
"To each her own," Crusher observes.
x
There's a long moment of silence and each woman knows the cause though no one wants to address it. They reside in the middle of a compelling mystery, yet they've lived in it for too long, hours for the Enterprise crew and days for the agents and they have no wish to revisit it on their free time. The issue has so consumed them that after a full day together they're still two separate groups, Starfleet Officers strangers to SCIS Agents. Eyes flick covertly to Paula, the only one capable of bridging the gap, but after three years as Enterprise-D and -E's SAS she's closer to the Starship's crew and a stranger to Ziva and Michelle.
"All right," Michelle declares, determined to break the ice, "'Most Embarrassing Moment'."
"You mean other than this?" Ziva counters.
"With a guy."
"All right," Crusher says, "I'm up for that." It's part of several Federation and Starfleet records plus hers and who knows how many other Personal Logs, so the story is old news.
The four give her rapt attention as she lowers her voice so nothing will spill over to the nearby tables. "It was 6 years ago when I met, and fell passionately in love with, a Trill, the first I'd ever heard of. His name was Odan and he was a Federation Ambassador. At the beginning I didn't know it was the Symbiont that had been an Ambassador for several host generations; I was heels over head over the man."
"Heels over head?" Michelle has never heard the phrase turned around.
"Picture it."
"I can," she assures the lovely redhead.
"Well, there was an accident and that became my introduction to Joined Trills. Turned out the Symbiont couldn't survive long enough for a new Host to come from Trill so I had no choice when Will Riker volunteered to be a temporary host. So here's Will with every memory of Odan and I, and he still loved me, and I found I still loved him - though I couldn't tell just where Will ended and Odan began."
"Bet I can guess," Paula grins salaciously.
"Well, anyway, there was Will Riker swearing his undying love for me and me doing the same and at slow but not very steady boil over a man I'd known for years as a brother. I held it together, though, until one insane night..."
"Oh, no!" Paula exclaims, reading Troi's eyes.
"Did you do it?" Michelle asks.
"Until it hurt!" she admits, hiding her face in her hands, but then brings the defense down. "But that wasn't the worst."
"If a wear-out night with Will Riker can compare to a 'worst' anywhere," Paula says, "what can it be?"
"The new Host arrived but I was too worn out-"
"I will just bet," Ziva grins.
"From a tense day of keeping him alive," she insists. "Humans and Trill are not compatible."
"He seemed pretty compatible with you," Troi teases. "At least his human parts."
"You should know."
"Ooooooooo," from the three Agents.
"So I had Dr. Selar do the surgery and I was thinking about the new Host and what he'd be like and what things were going to be like when he wasn't Will Riker but with the memories of what I'd done with Odan's first host and with Will. My daydreams were going so well until the door opened and she walked in."
"Oh NO!" Michelle cries.
"What did you do?" Ziva asks.
x
"Honey?" Michelle hears from behind her right shoulder and looks back and up. "I'm sorry," Jimmy says, looking and sounding utterly miserable. "Please forgive me?"
She knows it takes a vast amount to come up and make a personal admission and plea before friend and strangers, but she considers for a teasing moment. "Let me think about it," she says, turning from him so he won't see her smile.
"Come on," Ziva urges. "Forgive him."
"I don't know..." she says, having a harder time keeping her lips steady.
"How can you stay mad at that?" Paula asks.
"He's like a lost puppy," Crusher observes.
"Puppy," she scoffs. "Rabid bull terrier, more like. You don't know him."
"Please, honey, I'll do anything."
She must bite her lower lip until she can turn back without a smile. "Anything?"
"Anything. I swear!"
"You really want to make it up to me?"
"Yes!"
She looks to the other women, but they're not trying to disguise their smiles. She half hates to miss the rest of the recollections but she's sure she'll have a good story to bring to the next segment. She turns back up to her desperate husband. "Then take me to our quarters and I'll show you how you can make it up to me."
Before he can react to his good fortune, she turns to her smiling friends and leans in close, her whisper very low. "If you hear screaming..." she winks, "ignore it."
######
Author's Note: For those fen not familiar with the metric system, the blade that killed Edaniya was at least 7 inches long and 1.6 inches wide.
