Twelve: And when the truth goes BANG the shouts splatter out
Of course, Spock was his cool self as they entered the front office. The banging beat of his heart didn't hammer in his chest. He didn't smooth down his clothes, flustered, or run two hands over his head to check each hair was in place. Uhura debated hanging back, but would that look more suspicious? Instead she followed Spock in, hopeful her demeanour appeared normal.
Bones stood behind the Kid's desk; Charlie and Scotty were off duty, so would be briefed later. "Chekov – tell us what you got."
"I was looking at the wrong angle with the database records. I read a journal article about a data migration that did not work. New Glasgow Uniwersity, NGU, got a new student system and the data migration did not have accurate specification. Many deleted records were stored. They were 'ghosts', but the migration queries were not set up correctly and the 'ghosts' were resurrected. Many students who graduated years before were back in the database."
"I have been searching for records on a system. I should have been looking at records not on a system." The youngster gave a slow nod.
Everyone was blank and silent until Spock said, "Explain, Mister Chekov."
"All service suppliers have records for customers; active or inactive. If some person stops using a beauty parlour or power company, they still keep all data. Sometimes, so they can send annoying messages to get them to use the service again. All of the companies used by members of the public on New Glasgow keep customer records – even if a customer dies – for data mining, statistics, marketing…many reasons. Even NGU keeps all records now, putting an 'inactive' flag or something like that on the record. "
Uhura had the feeling a but was on its way.
"But a small branch of MediKhan, TransForm, has sewenteen ghost records, deleted by an amateur in an attempt to pretend that certain customers had never been there. They are our missing individuals. What is most incriminating is that they were deleted before they were reported missing. In most cases, about twenty-four hours before."
"Mudd told me Khan put a stop to The Enquirer's comm-tap racket. It's all pointing to him," said Uhura.
A thud signalled Christine's collapse onto a battered couch. "I know that clinic. We used to joke about it. All the girls who go in come out with the same nose. We call it KhanForm. What about Crimson's birth DNA records, Chekov?"
"I have looked, if they are false, they are wery good. Of course, that does not mean they have not been tampered with. I need to look –"
Some commotion in the hallway halted Chekov mid-stream. Scotty and Charlene's raised voices could be heard on the other side of the door.
"It's fine Scotty, I'm fine."
"You bloody well are not fine, this has gone on long enough now. I'm not standing by any more, is it just that ye're worried? I'm sure it's nothing. Let's ask – "
"Leave it, will you? I promise I'm OK."
"No. Are you deaf, woman? I will not leave it, you'll see McCoy right now."
Scotty burst through the door, his hand clamped about Charlie's slim upper arm; her bearing was that of a recalcitrant terrier forced to go walkies. Ignoring the audience, he deposited her in the middle of the room then turned on his heel and leant his weight against the door, barring any escape.
Their explosives expert was a rabbit caught in headlights; her face ashy, and her eyes glazed.
"What in tarnation's going on here?" McCoy stretched himself up to his full height.
"Sorry, I tried to do this discreet-like but, well, it didnae work. Charlie's no' well. For the last week she's been fast asleep at 2100 hours, and this evening she passed out in the bathroom."
Uhura scanned Charlie's face for clues. Had their explosives expert been younger, she would have pegged her for a pregnant teenager being made to face her parents, or a young bride forced to marry a man who was not the father of her child. Pure fear blazed in Charlie's eyes until a cold trickle of discomfort seemed to run down the walls of the office.
They all saw it, Scotty marching Charlene to her execution. Uhura's heart lurched as McCoy said in a fatherly, too-cheerful manner, "Charlie, come with me into the good office."
Satisfied his goal was achieved, Scotty nodded to Charlene. "It's for your own good love. I'm only doing it to help you."
Through the closing crack in the door, a cornered Charlene looked out, the expression on her face was blank-eyed, beaten resignation, the anticipation of a noose about the neck. Was Charlie really sick? Perhaps she'd kept her condition from Scotty in order to spare him?
At least McCoy was discreet. Scotty perched on the small chair where clients waited, rubbing his palm on one knee in a repetitive action, his face grey and his mouth set in a line.
"Eh, sorry about that, sorry tae interrupt, like. I reckoned it had gone far enough, she's rubbish at going to the doctor. I'm worried about her."
"It's all right Scotty," Christine patted the engineer's knee. "You did the right thing. Gorn knows McCoy is the last person to go to a doctor. He'll understand."
Chekov made a poorly-aimed joke; he was only seventeen after all. "Perhaps she is expecting a baby!"
Scotty's face was scrutinised by the women in the room, who looked for any betrayal of how he might feel. "Eh, aye well I did think about that, but the way she's acting, I don't think so. Unless," he stared at a point in the distance, and when he spoke again, his voice was thick, "unless it's no'..." The ending of the sentence fell away.
Time passed, Chekov explained again his theory about the ghosts in the machine and Scotty listened, his eyes on the window, staring at the rain hammering on the glass.
A creak drew attention to the door and McCoy stuck his head round. "Mister Scott, can you come in please." Uhura's diaphragm rose at his tone, he sounded like a proper doctor – not a detective-doctor – a doctor who was imparting difficult information.
This time, nobody spoke and a charged hush settled on the group. Chekov crept over to a console and began to work, Chapel pretended to look at a Padd and Uhura picked at a loose thread at the front seam of her skirt, trying to calm the double-blow to her nerves from the encounter with Spock, and fear for what was going on with Charlie. Spock too was settled at a console, so Uhura walked over to him and feigned interest, desperate for any distraction. "What are you looking at?"
Before he had time to react, a fearsome tide of swearing streamed through the flung-open door to the good office, it banged back on its hinges and Scotty blustered out, fit to be tied. He crossed the outer office in four strides and left, slamming the door so hard that a Padd near the edge of Christine's desk crashed to the floor, the screen splintering into icy shards. Porthos skittered to the door, and whined and scratched until Chekov rose and opened it so the beagle could follow his master.
Aside from the Russian, nobody moved, but Uhura heard quiet crying through the open door, and the low voice of McCoy:
"Charlie, what do you want to do sweetheart? It's your call."
~~intermission~~
