Lost in Translation
Wyatt stared at the shelves that spanned most of one wall of the victim's bedroom. All of them contained printed books organized neatly by size.
The officer took a step into the room.
A whole row of them had been written by the same author with an alien name.
He looked at the titles of the books carefully, but did not recognize any of them. He was not an avid reader nor did he understand anything about the subjects that were discussed in those publications.
He approached the small desk next to the door. There was only a small organizer of office supplies, the space where the laptop they had found was probably located, and a book.
He grabbed the book in his hands and observed it. He opened it to the first page, where he could see the title and author's name in bold letters.
Wyatt wasn't sure when he had last held a book in his hands. The use of paper had declined markedly since the 21st century. However, it seemed that some people loved to cling to old habits.
"The Children of Surak," he read in a quiet voice.
The corners of the pages of that book looked somewhat bent. Vorik must have spent hours and hours rereading that book for it to be worn out like that. Maybe he kept the rest of them as a collection on his shelf, but that one definitely had to be his favorite. There didn't seem to be room for it on the wall shelves.
The first page had a handwritten dedication. The watery black ink with which the author had written the dedication stood out in contrast to the whiteness of the paper.
"To Vorik with gratitude. Varith," Wyatt read out loud.
A strange feeling came over him, as if he wasn't supposed to be there. The fact that he had bothered to get that scribble on a piece of paper sparked a bit of sadness in him. It reminded him that the victim had been someone with interests, tastes and hobbies. Premature death was always unfortunate, especially when it was a forced one such as homicide. For some reason it seemed to him that this Vulcan's death was particularly wrong.
"Anything?" Saavedra asked, standing in the threshold.
Wyatt turned around with the book still on his hands.
"It looks like he loved to read."
"Sure that will help us to get this case solved," she joked.
"Seems like he was a big fan of a Vulcan author who writes in English."
"'The Children of Surak'," Saavedra read, looking at the cover. "Never heard of it, but it's not a surprise, since I only read police records."
"Anything else?"
"Not yet."
"What about you?"
"I've always been better at searching than you, Tom."
"What did you find?"
"This," she said proudly, as she showed him the small flash drive.
"Where was that?"
"On the kitchen island, the drawer has a false bottom," she explained. "What is so important to keep it apart from your computer, hidden in the kitchen?"
"I wonder what else he has here we are yet to find."
"We're here to find out, aren't we?"
"Yeah, we are."
Wyatt closed the book and put it set it on the empty desk. There were so many things where you could find something.
He didn't even know where to start.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
Meditation had been ineffective.
He had spent the last few days having strange dreams. Soon, the dreams went from being strange to becoming straight up bizarre nightmares that exhausted him almost as much as not sleeping.
He had seen himself as the human assistant to a Vulcan ambassador, making thousands of mistakes and being fired shortly before jumping into the next dream where he was Vulcan again, but totally unable to understand the language.
When Sarek opened his eyes in the morning, he felt that odd sensation of floating in space again. As if every step he took could make the ground crumble and the darkness of the universe would swallow him up at any moment.
Perhaps, the lack of nourishment was starting to affect him, because he had spent at least, half an hour choosing the pair of footwear that he thought was the lightest to go out in. He had almost opted for his black slippers, but that seemed excessive and deep down, he was ashamed to have considered it.
The waiting room of the doctor's office was almost empty.
He looked around, suppressing his growing impatience.
His fingertips brushed the place where his golden brooch should have been. That small piece of jewelry was a gift from Amanda and as such, he felt it was like wearing it was as if she were close by. He had chosen to not wear it that day as he thought he wouldn't like Amanda to know he was unwell.
At the other end of the row of chairs, there was an older human woman glaring at him. Sarek knew she had been doing that for exactly thirty-nine point seven minutes, because he had counted them.
"Ambassador, Dr. Vanik will see you now."
Varek had suggested Sarek to consult a doctor, as he noticed how unwell he looked during the last event they had attended. The second time Varek had let him know about his evident deteriorated physical state, Mr. Langdon had agreed.
"You are five point six units below the healthy weight for a Vulcan of your height and age," the physician, Dr. Vanik, said once he got off the scale and started to put his shoes back on.
Sarek nodded in silence.
He could notice how loose the robes were.
"The studies the nurse performed on you showed no abnormalities, except for a slight copper deficiency. This may be due to a deficient diet," Dr. Vanik stated in a flat tone, witting in his PADD. "Have you been feeding yourself adequately?"
"No, I have not," he replied, watching the stylus pen moving on the screen as the doctor wrote.
"Is there a reason for this negligence of your health?"
"I have recently returned to Vulcan and my work schedule has limited me quite a bit," Sarek replied, focusing in keeping a straight face while doing it.
He knew that was a poor excuse and, Dr. Vanik could see through him.
"How about your sleep patterns, Ambassador? Have you slept the hours recommended by the Vulcan Health Organization?"
"I am uncertain."
"Do you not know?" The pen in Dr. Vanik's hand stopped for a moment.
Sarek stayed quiet.
"Have you had time to meditate? Lack of meditation causes difficulties in sleeping."
"Yes, but I reiterate, my work schedule has limited the time I can spend on recreational activities."
"Nourishment and meditation are not recreational activities. They are necessary to maintain optimal health."
"I understand," Sarek said with a small nod.
Dr. Vanik watched Sarek closely and wrote a note in his PADD.
"Your symptoms appear to be a physical manifestation of stress."
"I see."
"That would be all, Ambassador. You can leave."
He rose from his chair, relieved to be able to leave at last. The place was cold and uncomfortable.
"Do you want me to let the other patient know that she can come in now?" he asked, before leaving.
"How?" Dr. Vanik raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"I was saying that if you want me to tell the patient in the room that she can come in," Sarek insisted.
Dr. Vanik shook his head while standing up from his chair.
"I don't have any patients for today besides you."
Sarek left the doctor's office and stood in the waiting room for a moment.
Sure enough, no one was there.
The woman watching him seemed to have vanished into thin air.
He got out of there and drove off in the black car that took him everywhere. He almost felt the urge to ask the driver if he had seen a human woman leaving the clinic, but he didn't.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
Scott had heard his phone ringing in the hallway again.
Whenever he heard it, the noise came from a different place. Maybe, he really did need a tri-ox injection, because the places he heard it ringing couldn't possibly be where it was. He had heard it ringing on the hallway ceiling, on the floor, and inside the wall of his own room so loudly that he wondered if Varek or the ambassador could hear it from there.
That gave him a sense of helplessness of some kind, because no matter how hard he tried, the noise always faded away before he could find it.
That morning he heard it again when he left his room to go to take breakfast. He stopped for a moment in the middle of the hallway and tried to listen to where the noise was coming from, but could not identify the source. It was as if it was emanating from everywhere, radiating from the wall and filling the room.
He had not considered asking the housekeeper if he had seen it, because if he was asked logical questions such as when he had lost it and where, he would not be able to answer them. Besides, he could hear it everywhere and nowhere, to the point where he had no idea how to verbalize it.
He realized he had been standing there without moving when the door to Varek's room opened and he looked at it with subtle strangeness.
"Can you hear that?" Scott asked, absorbed by the high-pitched ringtone filtering through the cracks between the ceiling's white tiles.
Varek's eyes roamed the space that comprised the hallway.
"No," he replied.
He exhaled with frustration. How he could not hear that noise? It was loud and irritating, like a deafening screech.
The noise started to gather in the ceiling over his head and, although he wanted to insists, he knew Varek's Vulcan hearing was superior to his and if he didn't hear it, then it was because the noise wasn't there.
"Forget it, I thought I heard something," he said, dismissing the issue while walking to the elevator.
"What was it?" Varek queried, once the elevator doors opened wide.
They both entered the small space in silence and he sensed the noise moving, examining Varek's lack of reaction to it.
Could he really not hear it?
Scott looked up at the ceiling once more, listening to the noise die as if it were fading into thin air.
"Nothing."
"Very well."
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
T'Mirek was at Sasek's place to review a few details about the incoming event. Federation's Day would be really soon. Every year, the members of the Thon-tor ozhika would organize a gathering to celebrate.
She was determined to have a good time, as she enjoyed organizing the event every year. This was a commemoration of all that the V'tosh Ka'tur community had accomplished, proving that they could live in a civilized manner without excessive emotional repression.
T'Mirek was the one who had decided to take the first steps in uniting the V'tosh ka'tur and creating a community to turn to. It was difficult in itself to migrate, and even more so under the circumstances of the majority, where language and cultural differences were enormous. Later, they had even gone on to guide other Vulcans who decided to leave the home planet.
That was how they had met Velekh.
She was proud of the work they had done over the past twenty years. In addition to helping their compatriots, they had also given attention to the growing movement of logical extremism on Vulcan. Which no one had bothered to report until they had translated information, videos, speeches, propaganda, books and other publications produced by that hate group.
She looked away from her PADD screen to find Sasek watching TV without blinking. She was endlessly bored watching the news, but he never seemed to tire of it. Whenever he went to her apartment, he was either watching them or had them on in the background.
"You really enjoy watching the news, don't you?" she teased.
"Greatly. As I said, the Terran media is a curious creature," Sasek said.
"It is."
The doorbell rang and T'Mirek went to open the door.
It was T'suk. Stonn had asked her to pick up the printouts of some flyers they had ordered from a local printer. The ones Velekh had designed.
"T'suk! Come in."
"I apologize for the delay, traffic held me up and a woman was arguing with the counter clerk over an error that was not the responsibility of the printing service."
"Don't worry."
"May I ask you something?" T'suk inquired, when she left the print on the kitchen counter.
"Sure," T'Mirek said.
"Why does The Federation Day appears to be such important date to you?"
"It's—obviously—an excuse to get intoxicated," Sasek said with brazenness.
"How so?" T'suk raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Don't listen to him. He's just messing with you," T'Mirek said.
"Oh." T'suk nodded.
"Let me see what you've got."
"You did not answer my question," T'suk insisted.
T'Mirek looked away from the prints in her hands.
T'suk was looking at her and she knew she was confused by the nostalgia that a stack of papers caused her. It had been so long since she had felt the need to be conscious of her emotional display in front of other people.
She left the sheet on the kitchen counter, on top of the others.
"Well, Federation Day is so important to us because otherwise we wouldn't have a home. We can't be the way we are in Vulcan."
"Yes, and newbies pay for everything," Sasek added, rising from the couch since T'Mirek had arrived. "It is the logical thing to do."
T'Mirek laughed at that and T'suk just stood watching that interaction with curious eyes.
"We don't know each other very well, why don't you tell us a little about yourself?" T'Mirek suggested.
T'suk seemed to agree. T'Mirek watched how she appeared to be thinking what to say next.
"I have always been interested in languages since I was young. I studied law at Shi'kahr University, focusing on legal translation. I would have preferred to study a career focused on languages, but it was my parents' wish for me to work in an embassy as many members of our clan did."
"I also studied law there."
"Yes, I know you did. Stonn told me about you."
"I hope he said mostly positive things," Sasek he replied, as he reached into the refrigerator for drinks.
"He did."
T'suk looked at T'Mirek for a moment and then looked at Sasek again.
"Why did you decide to leave?"
T'Mirek said nothing.
For sure, T'suk was still at that stage where she felt she could still change her mind and return to her former life without repercussions. It took time to come to terms with such a decision. It was the first, and most difficult, step in the adaptation process.
Sasek exchanged a fleeting glance with her and turned to the young Vulcan as he opened a carbonated beverage.
"I think we all at some point felt that there was something else out there. For me it was when I moved from the province to the capital to study at Shi'kahr University," he explained with a distant expression. She had rarely seen him not approach the subject sarcastically or trying to add humor to it. "I realized that I had been living inside a bubble."
"I see."
"My bondmate and I decided to leave after things got… difficult," T'Mirek added, feeling like she should say something about it.
"You were lucky. My bondmate told my family about my radical ideas and they tried to re-educate me."
"Re-educate you? What does that mean?" T'suk asked.
"You don't wanna know."
"Sounds like an unpleasant experience."
"That's what someone whose family didn't imprison them in a dark cave would say," Sasek joked.
The casualness with which he said that gave her a strange feeling.
Sasek was rather sassy and he didn't take the subject seriously at all. The first thing he had said upon arriving on Earth had been that the weather was so horrible that he almost wished he was back in his family's cave.
"Fortunately for me, I never said anything to upset the local loonies."
"Loonies?"
"You know who I'm talking about," Sasek said to the young Vulcan as he glanced sideways at T'Mirek. "My story is not the worst."
T'suk was not aware, but T'Mirek knew he was talking about Varith. She turned and began pulling out the containers of food she had brought in an effort to ignore the subject.
"Let's not play the comparison game. It's stupid."
"No, what's actually stupid is not saying what forced us to be here. I don't like to play pretend that we are here because we chose to be."
"I'm over it."
"It doesn't look like that."
"I didn't come here to argue with you. We better eat this, it wasn't cheap and it's getting cold."
"I am hungry," T'suk interrupted. "We should eat."
"Okay."
Once everyone had filled their plates, they sat quietly in front of the television while Sasek watched the news in deep concentration.
T'Mirek huffed, bored.
How could anyone entertain themselves by watching the weather forecast for cities they didn't even live in? she asked herself.
"So we're just going to watch the news?"
"We can watch the crime channel if you want."
"Nah."
She turned on his PADD and looked at the list of things that needed to be done. She would have liked Velekh to be there for Federation Day.
She cleared her mind, she needed to be encouraged not to fall into the same hole as Varith. Scavenging for answers and pretending to be a detective over analyzing things had never helped anyone. It hadn't given Varith any answers nor had it helped Velekh.
"It's him. I told you," Sasek noted, as the weatherman disappeared from the television and the scene focused back on the anchorwoman, with a picture of a Vulcan man in the corner of the screen.
"The body of the Vulcan found in the bay has already been identified as the CEO of Lake Hotels Restaurants Group. The company has released a statement via social media lamenting their loss after the leak of this information attracted public attention. Meanwhile, the police department is investigating the death and calls on the public not to spread conspiracy theories."
T'Mirek's eyes were fixed on the man's photograph.
His features seemed familiar, even though she knew she had never met him personally. She frowned, trying to remember where she had seen him before.
"Do you know him?" T'suk asked, after noticing how interested she was in the incident.
"No," T'Mirek replied, staring at the TV for a moment until the news anchorwoman jumped to the next topic.
She didn't, but Velekh's neighbor did. The victim was the same person in that photograph that Robert had taped to the wall of his apartment.
She sank into her seat and stirred the food with her fork. She was no longer hungry and her mind was going a mile a minute trying to figure out why Robert would have a picture of that Vulcan.
The theories that popped into her head were horrifying.
Velekh had lived next door to that man and worse, had spent time near him. Basically, neither she nor Varith knew who he was, but she knew they were close in some way.
The conversation she had had with him the day she asked for his help said quite a bit about his state of mind. He was clearly paranoid, seeing things that were not there and living in a distorted reality.
That afternoon, driving back to her apartment, T'Mirek wondered if Robert had done something to the man on the television or to Velekh.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
Amanda hated eating alone, as she found it depressing.
Her eyes focused on the slimy liquid in the canned soup she had chosen for dinner that evening. The label said it was chicken noodle soup, but it tasted like a spoonful of seasoning. It was salty and cold. However, if the prospect of having to ladle it onto a plate to eat it felt like a herculean task, looking for something better hadn't even crossed her mind.
After that brief conversation when she had questioned Sarek, he had gone silent again. It gave her a strange feeling to know that he had not bothered to call her or send her a single message.
Amanda felt lonely, bored and tired, and she couldn't seem to let go.
She had spent her week submerged in the darkness of her house, with the dusty curtains closed and no one to talk to. She hadn't even allowed the cleaning staff to take them down for a few minutes to clean the windows and put up new ones. She had the feeling that people could see her from the street and that made her very anxious.
Some family members had called her that week to ask her about what was being said out there about her, Sarek, and their relationship. She had almost cried when she heard all those things again from the mouths of people she cared about.
She took a sip of the soup and returned the spoon to the can, stirring the liquid listlessly.
She had stopped checking her phone and tried to turn her attention to other things.
Ceasing to see what people were saying about the situation had helped a little. She had kept her cell phone close by in case someone called. That made her feel weak and dependent because deep down she knew she was waiting for a call from Sarek or something to let her know he remembered her.
Amanda considered herself an independent woman, but the last few months had made her question whether she really had the right to feel that way.
The comments about her body were the ones that had affected her the most in the beginning. Those people commenting on social media about her bad taste in clothes or how tight her clothes looked had made her feel bad. However, when they jumped from her lack of fashion sense to criticizing her personality, that's when Amanda really started to wonder if—maybe—they had a point.
It made her sad to realize that it had taken a stranger to reveal to her how insignificant she really was. All those people on the internet had been able to see through her and, although they had been cruel in their remarks, they did know how to put things in perspective.
She felt weak, like a whiner who hadn't been able to tolerate criticism, that she had no right to feel pretty and that her education didn't matter because she lacked the grace and class that others had been born with. That one attribute that Zoriah, the Andorian wife of the Terran ambassador to Andoria, did have.
The one she lacked to match Sarek.
The ringing of the telephone on the wall interrupted her musings. She watched the small red light on the device illuminate as it rang over and over, absorbed.
"We are not at home. Leave a message and we will respond as soon as humanly possible."
Amanda laughed as she thought saying the phrase 'humanly possible' was stupid, since Sarek also lived there.
"I know you're there. You haven't called and we're all worried. You know you can reach out to me anytime and... if... you're not alone, Mandy."
When her sister finished speaking, Amanda pushed the can of soup away and walked to the phone. She held it in her hands for a moment until it rang again and she instinctively dropped it.
She picked it up off the floor and answered, "Are you there?"
"Amanda!"
"I didn't mean to worry anybody. I was taking a break from technology," she explained with a nervous laugh. "I learned to bake in the meantime. It's harder than you would think it is."
It wasn't true. She had burned a pan of brownies and had given up watching those little pieces of charred chocolate cool on the stove. Once again, that feeling of subsequent failure had lingered for days.
"I am relieved to hear that you are okay."
"Do you need anything?"
"Hum, not really. I just wanted to talk to you and let you know that we're here for you if... We're here for you.
"I know," Amanda said.
"I tried to visit you a couple of times this week, but the Vulcans told me you weren't receiving visitors and wouldn't let me in," she explained. "Maybe, they didn't believe me when I told them we were family."
Amanda had asked the Vulcans guarding the property not to allow anyone to enter for any reason. Her relatives had become just as annoying as anyone else and all she wanted was to avoid the stress of explaining her decisions or having to justify herself.
"I know you well enough to notice that you want to tell me something. Go ahead. Say it," Amanda cut her off.
The only reason she hadn't hung up on him right away was because Elizabeth had remained civil throughout and had avoided making comments that were too out of line.
"I talked to mom," she started, doubt muffling her voice.
"And what did she say?" Amanda queried, kind of impatient.
"She said a lot of things that worried me, to be honest."
"Oh."
"I know that—from your perspective—it seems like we just hate Sarek for being what he is."
"No one ever gave him a chance and, if you actually talked to mom, then you're aware of what she has said to me."
"I, more than anyone, know how intense she can be at times. Clearly, things have soured between you, but you should know that everyone in the family is worried about you."
"I don't want to come across as too pushy. I'm sure you are sick of hearing about it, and I understand."
"I'm not prone to believe everything I see on the internet and I always take speculations with a grain of salt."
"Nothing she said is true. I didn't hang around the Vulcan embassy, I didn't have pictures of anyone on my PADD, and I didn't sue anyone to stop talking about me. It is all completely false."
"What? No! That's not what I was talking about."
"No?"
"No, Mandy."
"Then…?"
"It pains me to say it because I know you won't take it well at all. But, if I were in your place, I would want someone to tell me."
"You're scaring me."
"I saw a lot of speculation about you not being, you know, accompanying Sarek on his ambassadorial stuff. Actually, people say a lot of things that I know are not true, but this... I saw a thread—"
"A thread? You've got to be kidding me," Amanda cut her off. She couldn't see her, but she felt her sister's pity burn into her, and that made her feel angry.
"I didn't call you because of something I saw on the internet, Amanda."
"You just did," she pointed out. Her voice trembled, even when she wanted to sound calm and collected.
"Don't you think it's strange that he didn't ask you to go with him to his planet?"
There was her mother's voice again, questioning her through other people.
"I didn't call you for that anyway," she replied in a quiet tone and Amanda sighed. "I remained neutral during all this time. I was civilized and sat quietly at the wedding keeping my opinions to myself. The truth is that I didn't dislike Sarek, but I'm not stupid and ever since I met him, I felt a strange vibe between him and his assistant."
Amanda's mind started to bring back every single interaction she could remember between Sarek and his aides. She had never felt that there was anything really strange. T'suk tended to be very reserved in general and Scott Langdon seemed intimidated by the stoicism that characterized Vulcans.
She wanted to trust her instincts, but lately she felt that they had lost sharpness.
"What are you talking about?" Amanda queried, feeling the lump in her throat tightening.
"I mean that guy who was at your wedding. I don't know his name, but you should know who I am talking about since he's the only human working at the embassy—if I am not mistaken," she started to explain. "I read a bit about Vulcan culture and there's no way this is a culture clash."
"At the reception, when you were talking to the guests, the guy was with Sarek—and to me—it looked like they were very close."
Amanda laughed, but she was not amused by what she was hearing.
"I don't know how you see it, but if I didn't know them, I would think they are a couple."
"So, he's supposed to be cheating on me with his assistant? I must admit, that's a new one. I hadn't heard that one before," Amanda said, trying to joke about it.
"Please don't think I'm telling you because I want to hurt you. None of us want to hurt you. We are your family and you should know that we are here for you if you need us."
"Hum."
"If you decide to do something, you can always come to my house. Ryan and I will accommodate you."
"Thank you, Lizzy. Goodbye."
She hung up.
Amanda looked at the device and tossed it away.
She took a deep breath and went to pick up the phone from the floor to return it to its place. She placed it carefully, watching the little lights on the device glow in the dark and decided that she had received enough calls for the rest of the year. So she yanked the cord out of the jack so hard that the head got stuck in the hole.
She had made an effort to shut out the anonymous media voices and spare herself the mental fatigue of having their speculation fill her head, but it was no use if her family took it upon themselves to let her know what was being said.
She heard her PADD vibrating in the kitchen. She sat in the dining room chair, watching the light of the device illuminate amidst the darkness from her position.
Amanda knew full well that her sister had surely sent her whatever she had found out about that rumor, and though she wanted to ignore it, she couldn't. All she could think about was why Sarek hadn't bothered to check that she was still alive. She didn't think him capable of cheating on her, she knew how important marriage was within Vulcan culture.
The bad mood had returned along with the wave of negativity and sadness that had accompanied her for weeks.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
Wyatt entered the department with a box of donuts in his hands and a lot of questions. For the past few days, all he could think about were those silly theories he had formulated to try to make some sense of the facts.
Officer Crawford had told him about the theories that most of the officers working on the bombing case had. They believed it might be a hate crime in response to some of the attacks by logic extremists on Terran buildings.
He had even suggested that the murder of the Vulcan in the bay might be unrelated.
Wyatt, however, was not so convinced of that.
No group on Earth had spoken out about the incident. The few xenophobic groups on the planet were more keyboard warriors and none had—to date—taken any extremist or radical action. The citizens of Earth had had enough when it came to hate groups and if they made a single slip up, they could face serious consequences. It was no longer so easy to be a bigot on Earth.
Wyatt placed the donuts on the table inside the dining room and set about making coffee before the day began.
If he was lucky, he would receive the findings inside the victim's computer that day.
"Good morning, Officer Wyatt."
"Rivera, good morning," he replied, gestured to the pink box of doughnuts and asked, "A doughnut?"
"No, thank you. The sugar is coming off all over the place."
The young Sergeant shook his head, as he fixed the shiny insignia on his shirt. Wyatt looked sideways, noticing that he had a PADD in his hands and seemed eager to tell him something, like an excited child.
"Your loss," he replied playfully, taking a bite of the sugary doughnut. "Do you know if they found anything on the victim's computer?"
"Yeah, I was just coming to bring you the results." Rivera's hands trembled as he turned on the device's screen. Wyatt waited, until he started talking again, "Vorik exchanged e-mails in Vulcan with some of the victims of the explosion."
"Really?"
Wyatt finished eating the donut and wiped his hands on a napkin.
Breakfast could wait.
His mind began to try to imagine what they might have been talking about and how they knew each other. Up to this point, it seemed he had only had impersonal interactions with his coworkers and his social life was down to two people they couldn't place; the assistant and the friend. Still, they didn't know if they were the same person.
"The only ones in English talk about work, as they were all within the same company."
"How many of them?"
"Literally all of them. You could identify at least fifty people and they all worked at the same place. The victim exchanged emails with at least twenty of them."
"Were the rest of the emails translated?"
"No, uh, yes."
"But…?"
"It doesn't make much sense what the lab was able to decipher. I think that's because they were using a regional variant. You always lose a lot of things in translation, and sometimes the standard version of a language is completely different from how native speakers communicate."
"What's the problem?"
"We know it is Vulcan because of the alphabet and the fact that some words match, but the structure is different."
"Isn't there anyone who can translate them in the department?"
"Not really," Rivera answered, his eyes still attached to the screen. "The department does not make it a priority to hire personnel fluent in the languages of species or cultures that do not run into trouble with the law. Normally, Vulcans do not commit infractions even for littering on the street and I heard Officer Crawford mention that there has probably never been a single Vulcan name written on any police report so far."
"Anything else?"
"There's one that caught my eye. Maybe, it's nothing, but I think it says they're talking about someone."
"Any names?"
"Third child."
"Are you sure?"
"They even talk about stones and lakes, but I think it's a translation error."
"This case is getting weirded the more we dig into," the officer huffed, frustrated.
"If I may say so, I think the parts that don't seem to make any sense, could be that they are referring to names of people or places."
Wyatt pondered for a moment. It was true, it could be, but they couldn't just assume it was. They still had to find someone who could translate them properly before they could examine them to see if there were any clues.
"If you think about it, it doesn't sound so far-fetched. Many of the officers in this department have names with English meanings that could be translated literally into other languages."
"Well done, Rivera. That's a good theory."
At that moment, Saavedra entered the room with a coffee from the convenience store in her hand.
"Oh, free donuts! Thank you."
"Officer, since you're here... uh, hold on a second."
"Did you check the computer yet?"
"Yes, and the flash drive you found as well."
"Oh, that's great news."
"It's full of photographs. Some are over two years old, the most recent being one taken a month before his estimated date of death."
"We will have to see them," Wyatt said.
"Back to work, then."
Hello everyone. Sorry for the delay, there were many setbacks that prevented me from updating this month. I'm happy to announce that the main event of this story is just around the corner.
Special thanks to StarryEyes2000 for commenting on the last chapter.
Thank you very much for reading this story. Take care, stay safe and see you in the next chapter.