The scene was morbid. A highly respected university professor was deceased, slouching into his chair. The sigil of H'ronmeer was branded into his forehead, a bloody slit across his neck. Dark blood stained the body's chest. A small blade was lying on the floor next to the chair, the deceased professor's hand dangling above it.
The sight of the blood had been startling, which explained the hyper-ventilating secretary in the next room. She had been the one to discover the professor's condition and she was not handling it well. Her thoughts were projecting sheer panic, anxiety feasting on itself in a negative feedback loop. There were medical technicians at her side, trying to calm her down to little success.
The whole scene appeared as if it were a suicide. J'onn surveyed the scene with a cool detachment, studying it much like Ma'alefa'ak with a microscope. The office was in an organized state, no signs of a struggle present. Blood had splattered across the desk, indicating an artery had been severed when the throat had been cut. The knife sitting beneath the professor's hand indicated that he himself had performed the act, a response to discovering the symptoms of the recently-named H'ronmeer's Curse.
On the computer terminal, there were news reports on the condition. The last one had shown a list of known symptoms, including the branding upon the victim's forehead. Specifically the branding. Upon first glance, one would assume the professor chose to end his own life rather than suffer spontaneous combustion.
Except, the information present on the computer terminal did not report the infected's ultimate fate. That information had yet to be released to prevent mass panic from the public. This lack of information, of course, could be overlooked as media programs were reporting a death count, not the manner in which the infected expired. It could be inferred that death would be coming swiftly, especially when a treatment plan had yet to be announced.
There was an odd smell in the air as well. It wasn't the smell of decay—that J'onn was unfortunately familiar with. No, it was like the smell of burnt flesh. It was faint, almost to the point where one questioned if they were smelling it or not. It was hard to detect where such a smell was coming from.
"I don't know if I can blame him," Da'vizz remarked as he stared at the dead professor. Once J'onn had been alerted to the body, he had contacted his Manhunter division, and a task force had been sent. Da'vizz had arrived with the forensics team and medical personnel, ready to examine the scene. "Between this or bursting into flames, I think I would prefer ending things myself."
"Except it hasn't been released that the infected spontaneously combust," J'onn mentioned. "We have yet to make that public knowledge."
"Perhaps he has a contact at the hospital and learned what is happening," his partner suggested. "Or maybe he did not wish to see the infection reach its natural conclusion."
"Perhaps," J'onn acknowledged, though he wasn't convinced. "I do not see a note indicating what his intentions are."
That was something that was bothering him. Whenever dealing with suicide cases—as rare as they were—there was usually a note left behind. Not in all cases, of course, but one would think with Professor Q'im'bly's background, he would want to explain his reason for ending his own life. From the notes he had seen, usually recorded on a recording device, many usually touched upon how the suicidal individual felt great shame in not being able to conform to societal pressures. It was little known, but there was a government campaign that expressed how well Martian society was prospering. They were living in a "Golden Age of Martian History." The problems of the past were exactly that, the past.
Yet, there was an unintended consequence of when people felt that they weren't succeeding in this Golden Age. A lack of success, a lack of prospering, and the individual felt as if they were letting their whole world down. Unable to handle the feelings this created, the individual eventually came to the solution of removing themselves as the problem. These cases, of course, were kept quiet so as not to disturb the running narrative. If they were living in a great time, why would anyone want to take their own life, after all?
"He may not have been thinking clearly enough to record one," Da'vizz pointed out. "Delirium is a sign of the Curse."
That was a good point. However, "Yet, he was able to slit his own throat?" J'onn countered. "You've seen the patients under Dr. Loon'de'gaard's care. They were all strapped down so that they could not harm themselves, or others."
"And here is the reason why," his partner responded. "They all may try to harm themselves to the point of terminating themselves."
Okay, there was merit there. J'onn nodded his acknowledgement of this. Still, he stared at Professor Q'im'bly's body, specifically his throat.
There was something bothering him about the cut. The cut was from left to right, which fit in with the knife lying beneath the right hand. The rightmost part of the cut curved upward though. Would it not curve downward?
So he expressed this. "Have you noticed the injury to the throat? The way it curves upwards rather than downward?"
Da'vizz stared at it for a moment. "That…does seem odd," he admitted. "Though would he not tilt his head back for better access? Could his hand not have moved higher because of that?"
"That goes against body mechanics. With the arm naturally lower than the neck, it would naturally go downward instead of upward."
"What are you saying, J'onzz?"
"I'm saying that I don't completely believe that this is a suicide," J'onn answered more firmly. "It has the look of one, certainly, but there are pieces that simply don't fit."
"So you think someone murdered him, and then attempted to make it look like a suicide? Why? Why would they do such a thing?"
That was where J'onn kept stumbling in his musings. He could not discern any motive for such a slaying. A look into Professor Q'im'bly's background may help that, though perhaps it would only further solidify the suicide theory.
Perhaps that was what was bothering him about this. For something that appeared to be done at a moment's notice, it seemed too organized for him.
How the story seemed to go: Professor Q'im'bly began experiencing the early stages of H'ronmeer's Curse, did some research, discovered he was experiencing the symptoms, and decided to end himself before he ultimately died. If this was indeed the case, the symptoms needed to start while he was in his office. And they needed to be severe enough to alarm the professor while being mild enough that he could perform logical, cognizant functions.
Based off of eyewitness reports, not to mention seeing it in person, it seemed to J'onn the Curse struck in an instant, not slowly progressing. Admittingly, there could be symptoms prior to the sudden onset that were missed, ones Q'im'bly was able to detect. It was also possible there was a new strain that did such, meaning they would need to get samples for confirmation. J'onn had his doubts about these possibilities, however. If the symptoms were mild enough for Q'im'bly to function, would he not have preferred to stay at home? Why come into work if you were feeling unwell?
Sensing that Da'vizz was expecting an answer to his question, J'onn finally said, "That is what we need to figure out."
An emergency meeting had been arranged. The Priesthood was enraged, more now than when the incident had occurred. That incident, naturally, involved the outrageous claim by a university professor.
Commander Kris'to'fer felt this entire situation was spiraling out of control. A series of tables had been set up to form an U. On one side was the priesthood, each glaring towards the opposing side where university representatives sat. Seated on the connecting side were government officials, including Kris'to'fer as a representative for the Manhunters.
Tensions were building. The Manhunter Commander couldn't help but lay the blame on his officers, J'onzz and Da'vizz. They had yet to solve the spread of this epidemic, which was causing the growing levels of strife. All progress reports he had reviewed prior to this impromptu meeting showed that they were no closer than when they had begun. His best detectives were letting him down.
"What you are defending is hearsay and derogatory," the head priest, Ov'id declared. "We demand a retraction and apology in form of reparation from the University."
"The words and beliefs expressed by one of our faculty does not represent the University as a whole," a university administrator, Ne'town, Kris'to'fer believed his name was. "You cannot hold the entire University at fault for the expression of one individual."
"Is that your stance?" Priest Ov'id questioned, allowing his disdain for the thought to be heard. "Allow me to remind you just whom you are protecting. Professor J'onzz is a radical that has published so-called research that has defamed multiple people and organizations since his employ with you. This is not the first time he has made sickening claims about the Church."
"And he was punished as was deemed appropriate then," Ne'town countered. "In this instance, he was being asked his opinion due to his involvement with the investigation into this Curse. He is free to express his opinion in such matters."
"Do you have any idea what he has done? Today's services were decimated by his proclamation! How many souls has he condemned because he has frightened them from participation in the worship of H'ronmeer? How many more will be lost as his proclamation spreads much like this pestilence!"
"It isn't an enviable position, I will agree with that," Ne'town agreed diplomatically, "but you are wanting to punish my institution for the words of one individual. That is hardly fair or appropriate."
"An example must be made. If one is not, it will give those with radical ideologies the grounds for speaking their toxic views. This is something that needs to be stopped in its infancy, not when it is fully grown with vocal backing. This should have ended with that incendiary paper Professor J'onzz wrote about the Great Mind so many cycles ago."
Commander Kris'to'fer wasn't certain what this paper about the Great Mind was. He could infer that it was something the priesthood was not all that happy about. It seemed to be the precursor to this meeting, one he wished he had known about prior. Now he could only spectate this argument, left to speculate on the background of the current strife. It wasn't a position he cared for.
"I believe we are not making much progress in the current format," a government official spoke then. This was R'yon, an official with significant pull within the government. His position had named him a mediator for this meeting. Whatever he decided here would be counted as an assurance from the government. "I want to know the terms that each side wants, and we will work to a resolution from there."
"The Church has already laid out our terms," Priest Ov'id responded immediately. "We want an apology and retraction by the University. We would also like the removal of Professor J'onzz for his role in this travesty. He is the source and must pay the consequences."
"Noted," R'yon said. "And the University?"
The representatives for the University took a few moments as they looked to each other. They were clearly having a private conversation. When they finished, Ne'town said, "We request that the Church ceases its interference with University matters. Though offense was felt on behalf of the Church, they cannot hold our institution responsible for the actions of one individual. They are attacking a problem with a hammer when a scalpel is preferable."
"So you wish to focus all punishment on this Professor J'onzz?" R'yon suggested.
"If it must come to that. However, the Church's insistence is only part of a larger problem. Any research that has come out that is not in the interest of the Church, they have gone out of their way to silence it. That has hampered any number of research projects that may run the risk of countering a position of the Church. Professor J'onzz's paper on the Great Mind is perhaps the most direct and it was agreed at the time of its publishing to be sealed. However, there had been some projects that examined past events that were deemed the result of the Gods, but we have found evidence of more mundane, if not practical causes, and these papers were not published in fear of reprisal."
"That is because you are trying to undermine our sacred authority," Priest Ov'id contested. "We have done a service to the people of Mars for centuries, millennia even. Your papers allow corruption and blasphemous thought to undo all of this service."
"Both of you, cease your bickering," R'yon interrupted before Ne'town could respond. "Past history will not be involved in this matter. We are in a crisis, and I will not allow two important institutions to act like children because one of them is upset." The government official turned his attention to the Manhunter commander. "Commander Kris'to'fer, what has your agency been able to uncover about this epidemic?"
The commander straightened himself in his seat. "We have learned that the epidemic attacks the brain, which is why there are so many signs of mental derangement."
"Any treatment options?"
"None at this time. We are in contact with the lead medical officer, Dr. Loon'de'gaard, at this time."
"Surely you have learned more about this disease by now," R'yon pressed.
Commander Kris'to'fer felt great reluctance here. Though he was frustrated with the progress of the investigation, there had been some patterns that were emerging. One of them, he was certain, would only add fuel to the metaphorical fire that was currently raging in the room.
"Many of those that have become infected did so during the sermons hosted by the priesthood," the Manhunter commander acknowledged once he worked up his courage. Immediately, the anger on the priests' faces was directed at him. "My investigators witnessed this first-hand."
"So the spread is occurring at the churches?" R'yon asked for confirmation.
"At this time, yes."
"That is outrageous!" Priest Ov'id roared, leaping to his feet. "That—"
"Enough!" R'yon bellowed back, silencing the priest. He returned his attention back to Commander Kris'to'fer. "I want the proof of this claim on my desk by the end of the day. I want to ascertain the validity of this claim."
He then looked at the university administrators. "For now, you will offer an apology to the Church. The last thing I need right now is a panicking public and any offer of peaceful resolution will help with that." Disappointed looks appeared on the administrators' faces.
In contrast, the priesthood looked on with approval, at least until they were addressed by R'yon. "And for the time being, I want the Church to suspend services."
"You cannot be serious!" Ov'id exclaimed. "We cannot—!"
"You can and will! People are dying and until we discover the cause, anything that remotely looks like it is involved will be investigated and discontinued. Right now, it is my understanding that the spread of this epidemic is happening in your churches. It could be incidental. It could be something in your ventilation that is exposing your congregation to the disease. It could be something these victims are eating before arriving and incidentally fall ill during your service. Our primary directive is to find this out and get a handle on it before any more people die."
"And what of our people's souls?" Priest Ov'id pressed.
"H'ronmeer will understand our diligence in the protection of his people," R'yon countered. "Need I remind you that your church was the first to make a statement on this epidemic as being a reprisal by H'ronmeer. You started this fear mongering. Well, I am ending it. Each party has their assigned duty—carry it out. This meeting is adjourned."
Commander Kris'to'fer glanced between the two opposition sides. It was a common enough refrain that the sign of a good deal is when both sides were unhappy. Well, he saw that both sides were indeed unhappy. Yet, he couldn't help but feel that this was only the beginning. He hoped he was wrong, but instances like this rarely ended well.
This situation was quickly unraveling. Leaders from across Martian society were sequestered in a meeting and it did not promise to be a happy one.
Da'vizz signed as he stood at his post. He was here as a guard to the meeting, along with a number of other Manhunters. The order to come here had arrived during the Q'im'bly investigation by the Commander himself. Da'vizz had answered the order, only to be placed on guard duty.
J'onn was not present, his partner having chosen to remain at the University to further investigate the death of Professor Q'im'bly. Part of him wished he had done the same as his partner instead of getting roped into this rather boring assignment. He may not agree with J'onn's theory that Q'im'bly's death was not a suicide, but at least investigating would have made the day progress faster.
However, just because he was on guard duty did not mean he had not learned anything of interest. It was surprising to learn that J'onn had a sibling. J'onn was a family man with a wife and two children that he was absolutely smitten with. He would add little anecdotes about the rest of his family and where he had grown up. Yet, he had never talked about this mysterious brother.
That was strange. J'onn hadn't been forthcoming with the details, only that they didn't speak all that often. What had led to such a situation? Doing some of his own investigation, Da'vizz could only come to the conclusion that this Ma'alefa'ak person was not a people person. He seemed to drive people away from him based off of the firsthand accounts of his behavior. Could the same have happened between the two J'onzz siblings?
Yet, they had been spending quite a bit of time together lately. While it most likely had to do with the investigation into the newly-named H'ronmeer's Curse, for two people that didn't speak much, they were speaking quite a lot. In fact, the first meeting between the two had gone for at least an hour. The subsequent meetings were even longer. J'onn was beginning to go to the University on his own rather than have Da'vizz accompany him. The request for an investigative team on the University campus had come from his partner due to him being present on the grounds.
"Officer Da'vizz?"
Da'vizz shook himself out of his musings. He immediately stiffened his posture as he saw Priest He'mor standing before him, looking expectantly. "Priest He'mor," he greeted professionally.
"May I have a word with you?" the priest asked pleasantly.
"Certainly." The holy man turned and led Da'vizz away from his post. The other Manhunters adjusted their position to accommodate this. Priest He'mor led the Manhunter into an intersecting hallway, one that ended in an alcove, no doubt for the privacy he sought.
"I hope this day is finding you well," Priest He'mor said to him as he came to a stop, facing the officer.
"I do find it well," he confirmed. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"I was hoping to speak to you and your partner, Officer J'onzz, in regards to the progress you have made towards this illness. Where is Officer J'onzz for that matter?"
"My partner is out in the field," Da'vizz assured the priest. "We are doing everything that we can to remedy this sad state of affairs."
The priest narrowed his eyes. "He would not happen to be at the University, would he? Would he be speaking to the professor that has brought us all here today?"
"It is possible," Da'vizz was careful to say. He could detect the hint of disapproval in the priest and wished to not agitate him.
"That is unfortunate. This Professor J'onzz, it seems to me, is fueling the tension that is emerging between our societal sects. This is not aiding us as this illness runs rampant."
"I assure you, Holy One, that Professor J'onzz's expertise is all that we have sought to obtain. It is unfortunate he has been as…outspoken…as he has been, but we have managed to glean some development into our understanding of this disease."
"That is comforting, but it behooves me to point out that Professor J'onzz has a history of antagonism towards the Church. He has done much to discredit us and the service we provide to all of Mars."
Da'vizz felt stunned by his revelation. "How do you mean?" he could not help but ask.
"What he has done and said can be considered blasphemous," Priest He'mor answered the Manhunter. "He has purposefully gone out of his way to challenge holy doctrine, even going as fair as to attack the Great Mind itself."
Da'vizz could not have been hit harder than if someone had physically assaulted him. He couldn't fathom how someone could attack the Great Mind, never mind why they would desire to do so. Was he denying its existence? Because that was easily disproved if one merely touched their mind to it. They could feel something greater than themselves. It simply could not be denied!
"I was unaware of this," he managed to sputter out after several moments.
"It is not something that is widely known, for good reason," Priest He'mor assured him. "And it seems that Officer J'onzz did not inform you of this as well."
"J'onn knew of this?!"
A look of concern appeared on Priest He'mor's face. He reached a hand out to the shocked Manhunter, placing it on his shoulder in a sign of comfort. "I know, this is a shocking revelation, so please do not think less of him. We in the Church were surprised that there was a familial connection between Officer J'onzz and Professor J'onzz. It is only natural that they would speak to one another."
But…but J'onn claimed to not have spoken with his brother for a long time. He did not know J'onn to be a liar; yet, how did he not know about this? He was his partner after all and they were investigating a serious matter, one that was taking over the city of Dea'vars. It was why they were here in the first place.
A silence passed between the two men until it was the priest that broke it. "It would seem I stepped out of line, Officer," he said regretfully. "I do not want to be the source of any tension between you and your fellow officer. It does seem to me the matter could be cleared up with a conversation."
Yes, a conversation. That would be the most prudent thing, would it not? "Of course, Holy One," Da'vizz responded. "I will most certainly do that."
"Then I hope for a good conversation between the two of you," the priest said with a gentle smile on his face. "This growing divide can only be healed so long as we all communicate effectively with each other. That is the way of the Church, you know. H'ronmeer would want nothing less."
"Yes, Holy One."
"Now, I do not mean to pry, but have you performed your religious duties this week?"
"Of course. I attended the rites the evening of the first holy day."
Priest He'mor squeezed his shoulder in approval. "You are a fine child of Mars, Officer Da'vizz. H'ronmeer would be pleased with your devotion. I can only hope that your partner has also performed his duties as well. The words of a nonbeliever, such as his brother, can taint those around them. If this is indeed the case, I do ask that you be gentle in your rebuke as he has only been led astray."
"I have no doubt that J'onn would perform the rites as expected of him. He has done so every year," Da'vizz was quick to inform the priest. Of this he was certain. J'onn merely preferred to do them later in the week as he was a private man.
A private man…with a mysterious brother…who looked at the Church unfavorably…and was spending quite a bit of time with this brother…
"That is also good to hear. I believe it is time that we return. You have your duties and I have mine."
That was an excellent idea. Though, Da'vizz did not return to his post with a clear mind. Priest He'mor had brought up things he had been unaware that he should have known. Things his partner knew and did not feel he should inform him about.
Was there something to this? Was it an honest mistake on J'onn's part or was there something more nefarious afoot? Da'vizz knew he needed to find out what that answer was, for good or ill. He could not be ignorant of such matters any longer.
After learning all he could at the University, J'onn returned to the precinct. Reports compiling the evidence obtained would be created before long, including one from him based off of his initial impressions.
However, there were certain reports he was most interested in. Specifically, he wanted to know what the forensics team obtained. Q'im'bly's body would be studied for any clues that may lead to the perpetrator, examining the cause of death and anything that led up to it that may have been inflected upon the body.
The laboratory for the examination was kept behind a metal door, one that slid open once he put in his authorization code. He entered a small room, one that did an analysis over his body. This was so that any contaminants that may be on his body could be detected and removed so that he didn't spread them into the main laboratory. The protection of evidence was paramount in this part of the building for good reason. A sharp alert indicated he was free of contaminants and the second door opened.
Immediately, J'onn spotted the laboratory technicians covered neck to toe in suits. Or rather, they had shapeshifted the majority of their bodies so that it appeared as if they were wearing suits. J'onn copied their example, his torso, arms, and legs expanding before changing to a dull gray color. The contours of his body vanished as they became sleek and smooth. His feet became round, much like a boot, though there was no indication where the footwear ended and his pants began. Only his head remained uncovered. He did add the red X over his chest to maintain his identification.
Striding into the lab, J'onn sought out the head of the department. He found her typing at a computer terminal, dressed much like him, except her identification was that of a triangle with a thin rectangle at its tip. It was supposed to resemble a beaker glass, so so the claim went.
"Lon'fon," J'onn greeted the technician as he approached her.
Lon'fon looked up from her work and gave him a gentle smile. "J'onn J'onzz, it has been some time since we met."
"Indeed. I wish it wasn't due to current circumstances."
"When have you ever approached me unless it involved unfortunate circumstances?" she joked. It was light teasing, dating back to one of their earliest interactions. Lon'fon had been stressed that day and had complained people only sought her out when bad things were happening. It had become a running joke ever since.
"I hardly think your husband's proposal was unfortunate," J'onn returned the joke.
"Of course you don't. You weren't the one being proposed to."
"I thought it was a nice gesture he tried to involve your co-workers."
"J'onn, I am a woman of simple taste. If he had asked me in the privacy of our home, I would not have hit him with the tablet."
"If you say so."
"I do say so."
The unsaid story here was that Lon'fon's husband had proposed to her at the precinct. She had nearly walked over him while working on a computer tablet. Upon receiving the proposal, she smacked him on the head with the tablet and stormed off, clearly embarrassed by the attention this has brought her. She eventually accepted, obviously.
"Then allow me to explain why I am here," J'onn decided to get to the heart of the matter. "I was hoping you had preliminary results on the Q'im'bly case."
"You are in luck, J'onn," Lon'fon responded as she gestured with one hand to the terminal she was working on. "I was just working on my report."
"What did you find out?"
"Well, the cause of death was the wound to the victim's throat. It severed the arteries and he bled out in a matter of moments. Odd, don't you think?"
J'onn stared at the lab tech. Clearly she was trying to indicate something. "How do you mean?"
"I looked into Q'im'bly's background and found that he had the shapeshifting ability, much like yourself."
"Most, if not all Martians have that ability," he pointed out.
"Most," Lon'fon agreed, "but there are always exceptions. Not every Martian can shapeshift, the same way not all can fly. There are even varying levels of telepathic ability, as you can attest."
So that was what she meant. "And this is relevant?"
"Being able to shapeshift, any wound the victim received, he could have altered. He could have changed the structure of his neck so that he only received a cut, but no vital damage. He could have even changed the form of matter it was, either becoming a liquid and gas, which would cause the knife to pass through harmlessly, or he could have hardened his skin to the point it could not be cut. Yet, none of these happened."
Now J'onn knew what Lon'Fon was getting at. "That is strange," he agreed. "Which means he was prevented from saving himself." Another consideration occurred to him. "Or perhaps he had limited shapeshifting abilities. He may not have had the ability to change his state of matter."
"That is a possibility certainly, but my curiosity was peaked. So, blood work was drawn, more out of routine protocol than necessity, and we found something." At this, the technician typed on the touchscreen panel and an image appeared on the monitor's screen. It was a report with a picture of what looked like a flower in the upper left corner. "Gelsium," J'onn read out loud. "I have a faint recollection of this."
"Then allow me to save you some time," Lon'fon said. "This plant can be grounded up and used to create a paralytic agent. It's commonly used in medicine, specifically anesthetics to ensure surgical patients don't move during surgeries."
"And this substance was found in Q'im'bly," he stated more than asked.
"You are correct," she congratulated him. "It was administered in aerosol form, which the victim breathed in. We detected a high quantity of it in the lungs, including small fragments of the plant itself. My guess is that the plant had been recently crushed and grounded, then blown into the victim's face. He was paralyzed and then the perpetrator cut his throat and left him to bleed out."
It was not the first time J'onn was impressed with Lon'fon's deduction ability. She always seemed to find the pieces of a puzzle and put them together in the right way. For that, he was thankful for her. "So now we are looking for someone with access to the gelsium plant."
"That would be a good idea. This isn't exactly a flower that grows anywhere. It requires specific conditions, which Dea'vars lacks. A plant nursery may help you in that regard."
"Thank you for the tip." J'onn would have said more, but he found himself being called out to.
"Officer J'onzz, your presence is requested at the University."
J'onn frowned, which stopped their conversation. Lon'fon noticed his expression and remained silent. "Who is requesting me?" he called out.
"New assignment," the telepathic thought told him, indicating this was the dispatcher. "There's been a second victim found at the University. You are needed there immediately."