So...yeah. It's been a stressful year for everyone, and after the opus that was "Man of Iron, Child of Magic," my brain has been craving something a bit ... lighter, for lack of a better term. Thus the updates on this cracky story, and yes, they're coming as I finish the chapters, which is a bit of a departure for me. Still absolutely no promises on finishing this, thus it's still tagged as "Complete."
That said, I think there are only a couple of chapters to go...
Tony woke, momentarily disoriented as he looked around the sparsely-furnished, plain room he found himself in. Memory surged, and he blew out a breath as he stretched in bed.
Right. Strange visitors from another time. Murder investigation. Starship. Aliens. Best of all, lungs don't hurt on a deep inhale.
And the steak and lobster last night had been really good - not quite five-star restaurant good, but certainly better than anything he'd ever had aboard ship or in a company cafeteria. If he were dreaming - and he still hadn't completely ruled out that possibility - at least he was dreaming great food.
Speaking of which, he should get showered, have breakfast, and get started. He had at least six people to interview today, after all.
Ensign Petrova had apparently drawn an all-night shift, as she still stood outside his door when he opened it.
"Ensign," he said by way of greeting.
She turned and gave him a nod. "Agent."
"I don't know what time people usually get started here," he said, "but where I'm from, 0800 is a reasonable start to the day."
"It is here, too, sir," she said. "My relief should be here shortly."
"Could you take me back to the room where I interviewed Ambassador Sarek yesterday? It seems like a reasonable place to interview the others, too."
"Of course. This way."
Minutes later, Tony thanked her for the escort and asked if she could arrange for the ambassadors to join him.
"One every hour and a half should be enough," he said. "At least for initial screening interviews. There are six for me to interview, that would be nine hours total - ten if I allow an hour for lunch - and still be done before dinner."
"Do you have any preferred order?" Petrova asked.
"Not really," Tony said after a moment's thought. He wasn't really expecting anyone's story to vary from what Ambassador Sarek had said yesterday, but he might be surprised.
"All right," she said. "If you'll wait here, I'll contact the captain to make the arrangements."
Nine hours later, Tony bade farewell to Ambassador Abra Daoud, who, purely by chance, was the final person he'd interviewed - and the only one he'd been able to get any sort of read from.
The other aliens were similar to humans physically - other than skin coloration, the Andorian's antennae, and the Ithenite's short stature - but emotionally? Tony had no idea how to interpret their expressions. Sure, the briefings he'd read - similar to encyclopedia entries, if a bit more detailed - pointed out the major expressions, but there was almost nothing on micro-expressions or tells.
Given that he'd been correct and all their stories matched Sarek's in general - though each one shaded their story to paint himself or herself or itself or whatever in the best light, they agreed on the progression of events: a morning and afternoon of mostly-civil negotiations, followed by a break, then dinner.
They'd all taken their seats to eat, and about twenty minutes later, Ambassador Gav gasped and choked, and died before a medical team could arrive.
Tony opened a new window on his PADD and began a list of questions:
What was the poison in/how did Gav ingest it/was it injected?
Why didn't he taste it?
Can it be traced? How long will that take?
Who benefits from his death? If Coridan is admitted to the Federation? If it isn't?
Are we sure that the killing was related to the negotiations? How?
Tony tapped the stylus against the PADD, frowning as he reviewed his short, but potent, list. The answers to those questions would most likely lead him to solving the case. He hoped.
The door to the room slid open and Kirk entered, a tray of food in each hand. Spock followed him, carrying his own tray.
"Thought you might be ready to eat," Kirk said. "Hope you don't mind pasta carbonara."
"Not usually," Tony replied. "I did have one particularly horrible version of it at an upscale, too-fancy, Italian restaurant in Baltimore."
"What made it so horrible?" Kirk asked, sliding one tray toward Tony as he took a seat.
"Tuna," Tony replied succinctly. "There is no way tuna goes with bacon and eggs."
Kirk blinked, looking completely flummoxed. "Why would anyone-?"
"I ask that question about every too-fancy restaurant." Tony dug into his carbonara relieved that, while it wasn't as good as what he made at home, at least it wasn't horrible. "I want to tell the chefs that just because you can doesn't always mean you should."
"A lesson applicable in more situations than cooking," Spock observed dryly. Kirk flushed the littlest bit, and Tony bit back a grin. It was obviously an inside joke between them, but Tony still found their reactions amusing.
"So how'd it go today?" Kirk asked.
"As attempts to change the subject go," Tony drawled, "that wasn't particularly subtle."
"The captain is rarely subtle," Spock said.
"I'll take effective over subtle any day," Kirk declared. "Changing the subject or not, I'm curious how the investigation is going?"
"That depends how you mean the question," Tony said and took another bite of pasta. Swallowing, he added, "I've interviewed the primary suspects and investigated the crime scene. That said, I have no idea who might've done it at this point. That's a bit unusual," he added by way of clarification, "but I wouldn't worry about it just yet."
"Have you determined a motive?" Spock asked.
"If I had a motive, I'd have a good idea who killed him." Tony hoped he could be forgiven the snap in his tone; it had been a strange couple of days, after all.
"Means, motive, and opportunity," Kirk said. "That's what you look for, right?"
Tony stared at him, his mouth full of pasta. Chewing and swallowing rapidly, he blurted, "You're the captain of a starship. Why do you know that?"
"Besides a predilection for reading the classics?" Kirk grinned at him briefly before continuing. "Captains have to know how every department works, at least in broad outline. Investigating crimes aboard ship - rare, but not unheard of - falls under Security's purview, generally. I had a week of training in basic Security procedures, just enough to understand what they do, including investigation."
"Makes sense," Tony said. "And yes, you're right. So maybe you can help me with means?"
Spock's eyebrows narrowed so minutely Tony almost missed it. "The poison administered was an extract of vermicular."
"Right, I remember. A type of plankton from some planet whose name I don't remember and isn't important," Tony added when it looked like both Kirk and Spock were about to provide it.
"Isn't it?" Kirk asked with a frown.
"Not really. What's important," Tony jabbed the air with his fork for emphasis, "is how easily it can be obtained. Is it traceable? If it's cared for properly, how long does it live?"
"It is easily obtainable on any visit to Antede III," Spock replied. "There are no restrictions on export of it, although there are few uses for it outside of its being a major component of the Antedan diet."
"Especially when they come out of space flight," Kirk put in. "They don't like space flight. At all. To deal with it, on the rare occasions they venture offworld, they put themselves into a catatonic state once they've set course and don't come out of it until they're about to arrive at their destination. When they wake up, they gorge on vermicula."
Tony mulled that over as he finished the last of his pasta. "Do destination planets have some on hand for them to restock their supply for the return trip?"
"Their closest trading partners do," Spock replied. "And Earth and Vulcan, as the primary meeting worlds of the Federation, and where it can be used in agriculture - which is its only other significant use."
Tony blinked. "Agriculture?"
"It's a component in some fertilizers," Kirk said and grinned at the question that must be obvious on Tony's face. "I grew up in Iowa. Agriculture is still a significant part of its economy."
"Okay." Tony pushed his plate away and sat back, mulling that over. "Not likely going to trace it, then - too many places where a small amount going missing wouldn't necessarily be noticed."
He reviewed his list of questions and looked up at Kirk. "It's plankton, right? Wouldn't it have a briny taste? Why didn't the ambassador notice the taste?"
"The fourth course was a fish stew," Kirk said. "Something like bouillabaisse or cioppino, except that the fish was a vegetarian substitute, in deference to Vulcan preferences."
"Huh." Tony took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. "So nobody would've noticed the taste?"
"Indeed," Spock said. "Though it works quickly, and the ambassador died before the toxin could be identified and an antidote administered."
Tony nodded. Fast-acting poisons weren't unique to the future, after all. Then, since two knowledgeable, presumably uninvolved, parties were here and apparently ready and willing to help out, he said, "Who benefits from his death? I mean, Tellar still gets to vote on whether Coridan's admitted to the Federation or not, right?"
"Of course," Kirk replied. Then he frowned. "Are you suggesting that his death wasn't related to the negotiations?"
"More that I'm asking how you know it is," Tony said. "Or maybe why you're certain it is."
"Uh-" Kirk actually looked surprised.
Spock, however, merely raised one eyebrow. "It was the logical conclusion, as the murder took place during the negotiations, a time when few people would have access to any of the ambassadors. Surely, if the motive were unrelated, the murderer would have chosen a time and place with fewer difficulties."
"That suggests that the murderer chose the negotiations for a reason." Tony pulled the PADD to him and started to review his notes. "To make a statement, or because they would have access to Gav at this point, when they might not have otherwise."
"Which furthers the conclusion that the murder has to do with the negotiations," Kirk said.
"Not entirely," Tony replied at the same time Spock said, "It does not."
"It just means that the murderer chose to act during the negotiations," Tony offered without looking up from his PADD. "It doesn't explain why they chose to. But I've gotta say - at least you went to all the trouble to get me for a real head-scratcher."
Spock's eyebrow flew up and Kirk grinned. "So we didn't waste Starfleet and Federation resources. Good to know."
Tony grinned briefly, thumbing his way rapidly through the notes on the PADD. It wasn't the same as the notebook and pen he usually used, and he kicked himself for not grabbing one before they'd left his apartment, but the process was still the same.
"How'd your interviews go?" Kirk asked, his tone genuinely curious though Tony detected a hint of impatience beneath that.
"Well enough," Tony murmured, belatedly remembering that he still held a forkful of pasta. He took the bite, set the fork down, and pushed the tray away. Whatever custardy thing that was, presumably, dessert, didn't tempt him as much as the puzzle he was here to solve.
After a long few minutes of silence, Spock's voice broke his concentration. "Some humans process information by talking. If you are one, and require an audience when you do so, the captain and I will listen."
"Huh? What?" Tony looked up, blinking at them as he tried to parse what Spock had said.
"If you need a sounding board," Kirk said by way of clarification, "we're happy to help."
Tony debated only briefly - the one good thing about having more people on the team than just him and Gibbs was having more people to bounce theories off. Gibbs, Kate, and McGee weren't here, so Kirk and Spock would have to do.
"Sure, thanks," he said, and scrolled back to the beginning of his notes. Meeting Spock's gaze, he began with, "I wish all the witnesses I interviewed were as dispassionate as Ambassador Sarek. I'm not taking his word as gospel the way you seem to," he added with a glance at Kirk, "but it's an excellent starting point."
"I will convey your compliment," Spock said.
"Right." Tony took a deep breath and blew it out before beginning. "The Tick-"
Kirk snorted. "I'm sorry - who?"
"The Tick - blue guy with antennae?"
"Why do you refer to him as The Tick?" Spock asked. "He is an Andorian, not a parasitic arachnid."
"Debatable," Kirk muttered under his breath.
"The Tick is a cartoon superhero," Tony replied. "I'm not going to remember all their names and races, so I'm not bothering to make the effort. Especially when addressing any one of them as Ambassador is sufficient."
Kirk grinned. "Nicknames are fine. What about Ambassador Shras?"
"Freely admits to a history of conflicts with Vulcan," Tony read from his notes. "Corroborates the events of the evening, and the seating pattern Sarek provided."
"Most of those conflicts have decreased, if not been abandoned completely," Spock said.
"Why?" Tony asked. This was a piece of information the Tick hadn't provided.
"It's not that long ago that Vulcan was destroyed," Kirk said quietly. "The entire Federation still grieves - and, frankly, picking a fight with the Vulcans now is a good way to piss everybody off."
"Destroyed?" Tony hated the squeaky break in his voice, but cleared his throat and began again. "An entire planet was destroyed? How?" Then he shook his head. "Never mind, I don't need to know. Just - is it possible the same thing can happen to Earth?"
"The odds are heavily against," Kirk replied. "It took an angry madman and a bit of red matter - which hasn't been discovered in your time."
"Okay. Wow." Tony shook his head, still boggling at the fact that an entire planet had been destroyed. He took a breath and looked back at his notes. "Okay. Tick said he spent the hour between breaking from negotiations and dinner in his quarters. Is there any way we can confirm that?"
Spock pulled out one of those flip-phone devices and activated it. "Security."
A male voice answered almost immediately. "Security, Giotto here."
"Can you confirm the location of Ambassador Shras during the hour between negotiations and dinner?" Spock asked, then raised an eyebrow in Tony's direction. "And the other ambassadors?"
"Please," Tony replied, and Spock relayed the order.
Tony heard the man's - Giotto's - reply. "I'll review the recordings and report back, Commander."
"Acknowledged." Spock closed the flip-phone thing and inclined his head toward Tony.
"Thanks," Tony said. "Tick said his planet intended to vote to admit Coridan, which is a motive, I guess, but not a huge one given that he's just one vote among many."
"People are capable of irrational things," Kirk said. "Even Vulcans, though they tend to be sneaky as hell about it when they are."
Without raising his head, Tony looked toward Spock and saw him raising one eyebrow at Kirk. Kirk grinned unrepentantly back. Tony bit back his own grin and swiped to the next set of notes.
"Coppertone-"
"Ithenite," Kirk said. "Ambassador Karash."
"-said his planet didn't have any significant need for dilithium," Tony read. "Apparently they're not avid space-goers?"
"They engaged in minimal exploration of their home system and nearby systems," Spock replied. "But otherwise seemed content to remain isolated."
Tony frowned. "Then why'd they join the Federation?"
"Trade," Kirk answered. "Like a lot of isolated cultures, they were starting to stagnate. Trading with Federation members reinvigorated them."
Tony made a noise that he hoped was of acknowledgment and looked back down at his notes. "They intend to vote to admit Coridan - not a surprise, if Federation membership was so beneficial for them - and also corroborated the seating arrangement and order of events."
"But no motive," Kirk said. "Or - the same weak motive that Ambassador Shras has."
"Even weaker," Tony said, "given that he professes less need for the dilithium."
"Right." Kirk frowned. "Who's next?"
"I almost called her Barney," Tony said, "But the Purple People Eater seemed more apt."
"Ah." Kirk's lips twitched. "You mean Ambassador Tapani of Acamar."
"She's very…" Tony trailed off, searching for the right word. Finally, he settled on, "…sensual."
Kirk laughed aloud. "I would've said sybaritic, but yes. All the Acamarians are - or at least," he amended, "all the ones I've met are."
"So it's a cultural thing?" Tony said. "I shouldn't read anything into it?"
"I'm sure she's entirely serious about whatever she's offering," Kirk said. "But I'm equally sure that she's not wanting more than she offers."
"Well, okay, then," Tony muttered, trying to banish the memory of the purple-skinned woman in a dress with a plunging neckline and a skirt that left very little to the imagination.
If he were going to be here longer - and if she weren't a suspect - he might've taken her up on her offer. As it was, the memory would fuel his one-handed fantasies for quite some time to come.
He forced his thoughts back to the present. "Planned to vote against admitting Coridan because they're, I quote, horrid, uncivilized beasts - even though she acknowledged that there's illegal mining going on there. She thinks they should take care of the problem themselves."
"If they could take care of the problem themselves, they would not be seeking membership in the Federation," Spock observed.
"That's just one reason they want to join," Kirk pointed out.
"Well, some people just can't be reasoned with," Tony said. "It's a shame that holds true for other species - races? beings? - as well. Vulcans, apparently, excepted."
"Exceptions to every rule," Kirk countered. "What did she think of Ambassador Gav?"
"She tried not to," Tony returned dryly. "Or that's the impression I have. She didn't waste more than a couple of sentences on him."
"Is that not suspicious?" Spock asked.
"Maybe," Tony said. "But I have the impression she doesn't waste much time on anyone she doesn't consider attractive. She ignored Gav more than anything else - hardly what I would expect from someone who murdered him. Daoud, though - she absolutely despised Gav. It seems his culture values plain speaking?"
"And love to argue," Kirk said with a wince. "There's even a children's book, The Little Tellarite Who Argued."
"Though argue is perhaps inaccurate," Spock observed, "as it implies putting forth evidence and attempting to prove by reasoning. Often, their arguments are filled with emotion and little else."
"Ah," Tony said by way of acknowledgment - because what else was there to say to the most logical person in the room? "Well, Gav apparently told her once that she resembled…I didn't know the term Daoud used, but I expect it was something like the north end of a southbound mule."
Which had made him sigh internally. Even several hundred years in the future, people were still judged by their looks, not their competence. Or else Gav really had been a jerk.
"Daoud was spectacularly diplomatic in her other answers," he went on. "Didn't say anything negative about anyone else."
"You think she hated him enough to kill him?" Kirk asked.
"Her exact words were-" Tony glanced down at his notes to make sure he got it right "-I never wish anyone dead, Agent DiNozzo - it's bad karma. That said, there are some graves I'd dance on with great joy, and Gav's is one of them."
"He wasn't the only plain-spoken one in the group," Kirk said with wry amusement.
"Which brings us to the Coridan delegation," Tony said, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought they were both ambassadors."
"They are," Spock replied. "One from each of two planets in the system."
"One of them did all the talking. The other - acted more like an aide than an ambassador. Not," Tony added, "that I have much experience dealing with ambassadors before now. Shocked and horrified at Gav's death, and honestly, I don't blame them for the next bit - unsure what to think about Federation security given that the death happened aboard a Federation vessel."
"Where does that leave you?" Kirk asked.
"Floundering." Tony sat back with a sigh, rubbing his eyes more in frustration than fatigue. "No motive for anyone, opportunity for everyone, and means enough to go around."
"So - you think the case is unsolvable?"
"There's no such thing," Tony said, sitting forward once again. "There're just insufficient resources to solve them."
"Insufficient resources?" Spock prompted, his eyebrow once again aloft.
"Sure." Tony collected his napkin and tucked it onto the tray Kirk had brought him. "If we could just work on one case until it was concluded, we'd solve them all. But other cases happen with depressing frequency, and we have to work on those, too. When that happens, if the killer isn't immediately obvious, often the case goes cold - meaning we aren't actively working on it any longer, not that it's unsolvable. Sometimes, those rare times when we have a lull in active cases, I'll pull up an older, cold case and take a look at it again. Sometimes, a pair of fresh eyes is all it takes."
He'd finished gathering his napkin and other tableware, so he got to his feet, reflexively picking up the tray and turning toward the back of the room…
…where there was no place to deposit his tray. He frowned and turned back toward the table, where he saw Kirk and Spock rising from their seats.
Tony froze as a half-remembered similar scene in a movie flitted across his awareness: "Do you have a telephone directory?"
"We can take our trays back - Tony?" Kirk broke off with a puzzled expression. "Is everything okay?"
"I need a newspaper. Lots of newspapers," Tony said. "Or whatever the equivalent is.