OOC: This is a placeholder for Misty's new thread, GMed by Tadeusz.  :)

In reply to Tadeusz (msg # 1):

You are heading down the corridor when you hear a panicked cry over the com.

"They've rigged a microcharge to the hull. Run."

You chose the wrong way, and ran toward it.

BOOM.

A four foot wide hole in the wall opened, and you got to see the station from the outside before versing out.

=================================================================================

Mozart is promising to play you one of pieces, but first he had to finish this arguement with Beethoven and Jay Leno about the best color of cars.  And you're sitting on a grate which is a might uncomfortable....

"Do not move." The voice is oddly toned, but quite menacing.

Inside yourself you feel as if you're being shaken continously but very softly.

The scent of rust and oil and of human fills your nose.  Underneath you, you feel a grate.

   I groaned.  I didn't mean to, it just sort of happened.  This was a difficult verse.  Normally, I have some idea when I'm about to move on down the road, like when I turned my phaser into a plasma grenade to squeeze some evil little pimple of a murder God off of the face of the world.  I didn't have a clue this time out.

   I'm not sure why Mozart didn't want me to move, but it didn't seem like a good idea.  He wasn't laying on a grate.  "Huh... wha..."  Using my jump addled mind, I decided to try to sit up and find out what was going on.

"I said....!" And you get the sudden feeling that moving might have been a mistake when you hear a sharp baritone from the same direction.
"Belay that."
And then a voice like a quintet of flutes.
"Interesting. My people have never met a verser before. This being will be fair.  The Xenon Isotope and the Ruox concur."

You open your eyes.  A metal grate with lots of bolts overlooks a large space.  Inside that space is a purpepinkorangeNOColor garage truck ball of inexactitude hovering in the midst of the large metal hall.  Lines are such, until you're sure they are, then they are not.  Other shapes come and go as well.

Looking at it gives you a headache deep within, and yet a promise of something sweet that might cost your sanity as well.

Machine shapes of more certain, but still incomprehensible nature attend to the 'ball'.

Shuddering, you turn back to the trio at the end of the catwalk.

You see a man who is four foot by four foot, black hair, buzz cut, and he has a large device pointed at you.  He also has a voice box device on his throat.

Behind him is a tall, slim man with a pair of mismatched yes.  He has a look of authority.  He seems young.

Both are in black uniforms touched with other colors.

Next to him is an eight stalked plant on a white tray on four mechanicla legs.  The stalks move and make fluting sounds to each other.

   I've been bouncing around long enough to know that there are some very strange things in the Multi-Verse.  I suppose that in some those places, I would be considered one of them.  I had two things going for me so far.  They knew something about versers and they weren't shooting at me.  I wasn't too worried about somebody pointing a weapon at me.  In my line of work, that is a given, almost expected, event.  The trick was to not get shot, or whatever they called it around here.

   I looked away from the whatever it was down there.  I took a deep breath and let it out.  That felt pretty good, so I did it again.  Then I got slowly to my feet while keeping my hands away from anything I had that might be construed as a weapon and all the things which actually were weapons.

   "Hello.  My name is Misty.  Yes, I am a verser.  I don't mean anyone any harm."  I closed my eyes for a moment.  "My PDW is over there and my backpack is off in that direction.  If you don't mind, I'd like to go get them before anything happens to them."  I didn't try to tell them how far away my pack was from here, even though I knew.  I had no idea whether they used yards, meters, or even macrobleems to measure distances... especially the macrobleems.

The box shaped guy with the box tracks you as you rise.  When you say that stuff about retrieving your items the two men frown.  The plant flutes some more.  This seems to decide things.

"My name is Able Benson, XO of the C.S.S. Marcus Caine.  This savage with the Pressure Differential Engine, or PDE, is Charles DuBois, Chief of Security.  In consideration of the Ruox, we will allow you access with a guard."

"DuBois. I'm going to report to England."

"Yes, sir." DuBois folds up the device until its the size of a notebook and attaches it to his back.  The XO leaves at a very quick stride.

"Lead the way, Ma'am."

You walk past the scowling guard, and the plant touches you on the wrist as if its tasting you.

The passageway leads right and left. You take right.  A central passage, also grated, but three times wider leads you up to two hatches, both open.  The one on the left looks like a break room.  The one on the right has food smells coming from it.

You walk inside and a very thin man attending to foods in a variety of skillets flicks his head back your way.  Then he flicks his hand toward the pick up area.  There is your back pack.  The rest of the room is several tables, the largest able to hold ten.

"Ze rumor mill is correct. We have an eleventh, unless you count the walking asparagus. Welcome to the Caine. I can cook most anything, but no souffle'.  The stutterdrive shakes us too much. I am Frederic Gaulois. Ship's chef if you don't mind."

   My first stop was the PDW, of course.  I picked it up, keeping the muzzle pointed away from everyone as I closed the fore grip, retracted the stock, and swapped the larger mag out for the smaller one before I holstered it.  It felt reassuring to have my little chattergun back on my belt.

   This Caine is an interesting ship.  The Yankee was a technological marvel.  My last stop was an off planet lesson in corporate efficiency.  I'm no expert, but this ship feels less advanced, more cobbled together somehow.  Maybe it was the grate floor.  Maybe it was the rusty smell.  And that Pressure Differential Engine, or PDE as they called it, was a gun.  It was a big, clunky gun, but then so was a Colt Walker revolver.

   The smell of food started my mouth watering and my stomach growling.  I had food in my bag, but whatever Chef Frederic Gaulois was cooking beat anything I had stashed.  And there it was, my life support system, my multiple-worldly goods, my spare ammo.  I casually strolled over to my bag, or at least I hoped that it looked casual.  I slipped my arms into my oversized pack and shrugged into it.  I felt a lot better now.

   "Thank you for allowing me to get my belongings.  I am at your service, but would it be all right if I got something to eat before we continued?  I can't remember the last time I ate."

Your observations seem sound, but you remember the Yankee being a Bussard ramscoop, a sublight with anti-hydrogen, and Jupiter Station, was, I believe inside the Sol System.  This has a stutterwarp.

"Gas propellant? Do you have smart bullets?" Chief DuBois asked in a tone of professional interest.  You see he's armed with some sort of short club on his waist, as well as the PDE.  He's the only one so far you've seen armed.

"I have chicken cordon bleu, a light salad with goat cheese, quite piquant, crepes with peeless oranges, and in honor of the Ruox, asparagus with hollandaise sauce.  Or, you can order something, and I can make it for you.  The Centauran Navy realizes that the long tours in the Dark are rough, so they let me bring some civilization." Chef Frederic Gaulois says, taking the time to face you, and to take out a piece of paper to write on.

"I think it would be best for you to wait here, and eat until Captain England calls for you, or directs you to her cabin." Chief DuBois says.

You see in the corner of the room a female with dark brown hair, short cut, in a dark blue jacket with stripes on it, that looks old and worn.  She's eating slowly by herself.  A man comes up to her after entering the room, speaks to her a bit, and she chases him off, but not ambivalently.  He turns and his eyes light up when he sees you.

He's easy on the eyes.  His smile is wide, toothy, and well practised.

"Hugh Islands. A true delight. I'd heard rumors.  And in such a difficult situation.  I wonder how the Ruox summoned such a beauty as you..."  He pauses.  "Sit with me. I'm the Torpedo One and Two, and Hydroponics, so if you like the salad, I grew it."

   I was expecting a question or two about my guns from the local security officer.  I wasn't disappointed.  "Chief DuBois, isn't it?  If I got the name wrong, I'm sorry.  I'm usually a little fuzzy when I land somewhere new.  My firearms use precisely measured chemical explosions to propel the metal missiles to their targets.  They aren't smart weapons.  I'm not sure if I would want a bullet that is smarter than I am.  Once I get settled in, I'd be happy to show you how they work."

   I opted for the chicken cordon bleu and the asparagus with hollandaise sauce.  I wondered what the veggie would taste like with Big Mac sauce.  I'm not sure what crepes are and I didn't want to seem any dumber than I usually do this time, so I went with what I sort of already knew.

   I agreed to remain here until summoned.  They had food that they were going to share it with me.  I wasn't planning on going anywhere.  As a verser, meals are iffy sometimes, especially if I have to cook them.

   I watched pretty boy get shot down by the brown-haired woman.  I liked her already.  I watched him head toward me, the only woman other than maybe the Captain who hasn't heard his lame pick up lines.  I listened to his opening.  And here I thought I had terrible first contact protocols.

   I smiled sweetly at him.  "Hi, I'm called Misty.  I just got aboard and I'm not sure of the rules here yet.  Perhaps you can help me...  Am I allowed to shoot you?"

He nods, understanding, but at the same time frowning.

"I'd love to take it apart.  If I could, hmmm, for the duration, exchange that for a PDE, I"d be happier. Even a shockstick.  The PDE creates an intense focused air flux that hammers the target, and then yanks the target, often rendering them compliant with one shot.  It is also less damaging to ship's systems.  As it stands, I could not allow you to enter the Bridge or the Stutterwarp Hall with that pretty antique."

"The verser will have full access." The plant says from the doorway.

"The captain..." Begins Dubois.

"Will be wise to agree to the reasonable demands of the People of the Winds."

===========

Hugh Island blanches, and Chief Dubois' vocoder box gets filled with static for a second.  He steps back, and wanders off.

The food is delicious, made more so by Hugh's retreat.

The brown-haired woman gets up, and slowly, but with excellent posture walks off, leaving her plate with the chef.

After a few minutes, a blonde-haired woman sticks her head in the door, gives you a poisonous glance and leaves.

Then a woman with long raven hair and an air of quiet nonconcern about nothing much wanders in, speaks briefly to the chef who gives her a cup of coffee, and heads over to the table. She sits without asking.

"My name is England. Only name. Yours is much nicer.  My...religious denomination believed that two names were a sign of pride, and offensive to God.  But when we spread, we ran out of names, so you get names for girls like England and Trout, my younger sister.  I am the Captain of the Marcus Caine, a Centaurian Navy Patrol Starship.  I understand you are....not from this universe?"

   I know that I shouldn't have said that to Mister Torpedo One, Two, and Hydroponics.  Guys like that always irritate me.  Maybe it's because that I have had people lie to me professionally for so long, having someone do it for a hobby makes me cranky.  Maybe it's just low blood sugar.

   The food was so far beyond fantastic that I didn't have a word to describe it.  I made a mental note to tell the Chef just how much I appreciated the meal.  I made a second mental note to ask if there was a gym on board.  If these people ate like this all the time, I'd need some serious workout time to keep from growing out of my weapon harness.

   I sighed as I watched the brown haired diner ooze...  flow...  slink...  I don't have the words to describe that walk... out of the cafeteria.  I know how to walk, but I have never ever been able to move like that.  I consoled myself with the knowledge that I could probably take her in a fight.

   Word must have gotten around of my arrival.  The blonde's reaction interested me.  I don't know why she looked at me in that way.  There are plenty of reasons to dislike me once you meet me.  Most people wait until then.  I was probably sitting in her chair.

   The Captain showed excellent timing.  Her arrival kept my from licking my plate.  "Yes, I am from another place and time.  I have no control over my destination when I jump or as we call it, verse.  I will answer all of your questions that I can for a chance to ask you some of my own."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:20, Mon 31 Aug 2015.

The chef comes by and hands out espresso, and apple crisp.  With a sniff, he refills the Captain's cup of coffee.  The eight-stalked plant on the mechanical tray with legs comes closer and stops four feet away with its stalks waving continuously and slowly.

"Perhaps we..." Begins the alien.
"Some background is in order.  The verser's offer seems more than fair. Will an hour make a difference?" England says softly, but with the certain assurance of being obeyed.
"No." The alien replies sulkily you think. But its hard to assign emotions to a fluting house plant.
"Misty, I'd like to go back to my question." Chief DuBois says. "Can I temporarily trade you a PDE and a shockstick for that PDW?  Its a solid object gas propellant, Captain." He explains.  She nods in agreement.
"This ship is primarily iron, as its the most plentiful and cheapest element.  Other parts are not hardened.  So richochets and equipment damage are a problem.  Also, any solid matter interacting with the stutterwarp field would be problematic.  Severe damage, but not fatal."

A man steps sideways into the door, and speaks.
"Anyone messing with the Field will have to go through me."  He's built on a wide frame with good sized muscles, and then add another one hundred fifty pounds of fat that he carries well as can.  And his voice is bass, and lovely, like caramel.
"Since you're bored, why not come in, and introduce yourself." England says. The man blushes a bit.
"I will. I'm ..." He promenades forward. "Jack Kenner. I'm the ship's Stutterfield Engineer, or Singer.  One has to croon to the wee thing to make it happy."
DuBois rolls his eyes.
"Its not alive."
"Heathen heavyworlder."
Jack Kenner is speaking softly, but you have a feeling he could easily make the walls ring with a bellow.  He turns to you.
"Dear lady, don't let this short little midget put you off.  There are real men on this ship."  He grins at you, laughing at something.
"She's already met Hugh."
"Oh, you poor thing." Jack says to you. "And him married and all."
"Threatened to shoot him."
"Well, that just proves she has good taste."
"Children." England says freezingly.

====

"What do you wish to know?" Captain England asks quietly, almost as if she's falling asleep, while picking at her apple crisp.

   "Hold on Chief.  I'd rather not trade off my tools for your tools.  I already carry an electronic stun wand and an impact melee weapon.  I might have a solution that would satisfy both of us on the gun problem."  I dug into my pack and pulled out one of the two station issued pistols from my last stop.  I popped the mag out before showing it to the Chief.  "This is a low powered firearm designed to be used aboard pressurized vessels, like a spacecraft."

   I ran him through the basic care and feeding instructions for the pistol, loading and unloading, chambering and ejecting a round, using the safety, and aiming.  "Here is the pistol and a mag of eleven rounds for you to borrow.  Go ahead and test it to see if it is an acceptable weapon for me to carry while on the Caine."

======

   I smiled at the Captain's question.  "I want to know everything.  I know nothing of your history, your culture, your mythos.  But I will settle for the moment knowing just two things.  What is the Caine's current mission?  And, since I am between jobs at the moment, are you hiring?"

The Chief takes the weapon and examines it, and then hands it to Jack Kenner who also looks it over with a slightly different focus, one being security, and the other an engineer.
The Ruox flutes a bit, and they ruefully nod.

"Please do not fire this into the Field, unless you like uncontrolled FTL jumps." Jack Kenner says with an abnormal to him seriousness.  Chief DuBois hands your spaceship pistol back to you.

"Its 2295 Anno Domini, or Year of the Centauri Landing 173. There are seven habitable planets in the Alpha Centauri System. We're an independent polity as interstellar empires are impossible.  Even interplanetary are difficult.

DuBois is from the Heavyworld in our system.  Hugh Islands is from the waterworld where he is the third son of one of the Ten Dukes who elect their King who serves as Viceroy for the Centauran Federation.

I'm from Prime and Heavy along with Prime are the two 'heavyweights' as it were in the system.  The Federation is 70 years old.  My leaders were....decadent, short-sighted, greedy.  Heavy's leaders were ruthless and paranoid.  So...war."

DuBois opens his mouth.

"We thought they'd be easy.  Rich, stupid, weak.  All that was true....of their elites.  Their common folk were another matter.  In the end, the other planets presented us an ultimatum....get rid of our elites, and form the Unification or face war from the other five planets. "

Jack Kenner speaks.  "Our basic tech is the stutterwarp or the Atchison Short Teleport Warp System.  Up to a thousand ports a minute.  We can top out at 7 lightyears a day if we want to bleed out our noses, and endure pschyoses.  Most of us are 2 L rated. I can do 3.  Captain here is tops at 5 L.  We're out here about 90 Lights from Centauri on a search for new planets, and what not."

England says sadly. "We're not hiring. The Ruox are."

"Yes. This First Contact has been spoiled by our emmissary being murdered by humans. We wish to hire you to find out which one did it." The plant says.

   I took my ship pistol back and replaced it in my pack.  "I'll swap it out when I get somewhere more private.  I'll try not to shoot at anyone until then."

   My mind whirled for a moment at the last revelation.  There was so much that I didn't know about this place.  I took a deep breath to steady myself.  I turned to the plant.  "You've got yourself a detective.  I'm going to need a few things to get started.  I will need some kind of official diplomatic badge and credentials.  I will need access to your records and to anyone even remotely involved in this investigation.  Also, there is the matter of my fee.  What do you use for money here?"  I didn't always manage to stay around long enough to get paid, but it would help to know what I would be working to get.  I also wondered where I could get a trench coat and a fedora.

"The Ruox and the Xenon Isotope acknowledge you as Emmissary.  Any harm or hindrance to you will be revisited ten fold."  At first it doesn't seem like much, but by the newly cautious looks around you, its like you've donned a forcefield.

"You will have Crew Level Access to the Main Database aboard the Xenon Isotope."  It hands you a small clear ball, and tells you to contact it to your skin.  Once you do, you hear a question like its spoken behind you.

"Query, New User Misty One Stalk, or are you Two or Five Stalk?" The voice seems dreadfully bland, and their are scents with it that don't mean anything to you.

"We use Interest Points.  However as this is a First Contact situation, we have no human monies.  We can barter if you wish."

   I'm officially their Emissary.  Of course, so was the last being who held this rank.  I'll have to try to do a better job of staying alive.

   The little glass ball was interesting.  Now if the Ruox could tell me how it worked.  "How do I access the Main Database?  Do I think my questions to myself?  Do I need to speak aloud to the ball?  Oh, and about my fee, Interest Points will work for now, to be exchanged for trade goods at some later time.  I do not know your pay scales, so I trust you will assign an appropriate rate for my labors."

   I had a few requests for the Captain, too.  My newfound ranking should help me get them.  "I'll need some place to use as quarters and my office during my investigation.  Also, I'll need access to all of your records about the murder as well as access to the crew's personal records.  Once I get set up, I will need to interview the crew individually."

   It didn't have to be a human who did this.  It could have been a plant.  I really couldn't be sure of anything here.  I was playing the Space Edition of Clue, but I doubted that I would find that Colonel Comet used the spanner in the Hydroponics Bay.

   The little glass ball was interesting.  Now if the Ruox could tell me how it worked.  "How do I access the Main Database?
....You have....its the same voice from behind you.  User designate?
  Do I think my questions to myself?
.....You may.
 Do I need to speak aloud to the ball?
....You may.
 Oh, and about my fee, Interest Points will work for now, to be exchanged for trade goods at some later time.  I do not know your pay scales, so I trust you will assign an appropriate rate for my labors."

"I'll set you up in my Day Room." Captain England replies.  "Would you like to see the victim now, and the room in which it took place?"

   The glass ball interface was mentally controllable.  That was good.  I spent enough time already in talking to myself.  "Interface.  Designate this user as Misty the Gray.  Do you have video and audio recording capabilities?  Stand by for additional queries."

   See the room and the body?  "Thank you for the use of your Day Room, Captain.  When did this murder occur?  And I will need to see both the room and the body."

::So designated, Misty the Grey.  You have four slots of 39 seconds, 114 microseconds recording available that can be used for AV or sound or both.::

::Standing by.::

"Two days ago. At night. The Ruox asked us to honor their traditions of leaving the body as it was." England replies, getting up.

"I am Eight-Stalk. We leave the murdered dead in place for a period of roughly a hundred years, and then after that, we let the area rest for another hundred, and then we resanctify the land or area which has been insulted by the murder."

They lead you out the cafeteria to the right and forward, until another crosswalk appears.  To the right a few yards is a door.  The grates creak under you feet.

The door is solid iron.

You see there is a hole in the door handle that is about 3/5ths of an inch across.

Inside is a barren chamber, and a drooping, brown stalky alien, its body draped over a white tray and heldup by four robot arms.

   I pointed out the hole in the door to the Captain.  "Is that hole a normal feature of the door for pressure equalization or some other function?  If not, did you have it analyzed to see what caused it?"

   I addressed my next questions to both Eight-Stalk and the Captain.  "Who has been in this room since the murder?  Who examined the body?  Have you determined a cause of death?  Has the room been sealed off since then?"

   The being in that room was dead.  Somebody killed it.  I didn't know the who or the why of it yet, but I would.  That is what I do and I'm pretty good at it.

The Captain and Eight-stalk are with you at this time.  The others, curious, are shooed off.

"No, it is not." England says.

She sends for Patch, and when he arrives at a run asks him to demonstrate taking off and putting back on 'the inner key form' on the officer's door nearest the murder room.  Patch is very fast moving.

"My wrench works on the same principle as DuBois' PDE." He uses a wrench and a tap hammer.  In thirty seconds, he has it out, and then he puts it back together, and then does the process over again so you can clearly see how it works.

"Thank you, Mechanician."  And Patch hustles off.

"DuBois woke me about three in the morning. We came directly.  I in my pajamas. We walked in, looked for a couple minutes. Left. I went back to my cabin, called Eight-Stalk who came over, and examined the body about ten minutes later.  He spent less than a minute, and did not examine anything, merely said some prayers, and then demanded we close the door, and seal it.  We did so.  Eight-Stalk also sealed it.  Then we waited, and two days later you arrived."

"Correct to my knowledge." Eight-Stalk says.

   I knelt down to examine the floor, looking for metal shavings which might have been created from drilling out the hole.  I also looked for some evidence of floor discoloration from some type of chemical used on the door.  Once I determined what there was to see, I got to my feet.

   I was about to enter the room, but I realized that I could be making several huge errors.  I started by trying to avoid a cultural problem.  "Eight-Stalk, do your people have any cultural or religious taboos about my examining your murdered Emissary to try to determine what killed him?  Some of my examinations will involve moving the body."

   And there was also a potential biological problem.  "Captain, I need your Doctor to provide me with a surgical mask and surgical gloves.  There might be something dangerous still on the body, there also might not be.  I don't want to take any chances, though."

There are no metal shavings.  However, four feet from the door, and two feet from the murder victim is a shinier spot about half and inch across, roughly circular.  Its faint.

"I must be with you, and you may not touch the victim with your bare hands, nor treat the victim disrespectfully in attitude.  Also, it is unlikely for contamination.  While we have some similarity to your plants, we are at the chemical and protein level vastly different."

The Captain nods, and takes you to the Chef.

"Need you to put your Medic hat on Chef."

Frederic Gaulois nods.

"Ze problem is what?"

He takes you to his MedCenter, and gives you the equipment you requested.

By now you realize the ship's basic layout is thus...

T1
SSSSSSgBBBBBBBBBBBBBBgRRRRRCCDFFFFFF
SSSSSSgBBBBBBBBBBBBBBgRRRRRCCDFFFFFFFF
SSSSSSggggggggggggggggggggggggFFFFFFFFFF
SSSSSSggggggggggggggggggggggggFFFFFFFFFF
SSSSSSgEATING AREAAAgVRRRRMMSXFFFFFFFF
DriveAgAAAAAAAAAAAAAgVRRRRMMSXFFFFFF
T2

T=Torpedo
S=Stutterwarp Drive Hall
g=grate or passageway
A=Cafeteria and Kitchen
B=Break Room
R (two R's is one apartment)
V=Victim's room
M=Medcenter
S (forward) =Security
X=Hydroponics
F=Bridge and Scanners and Comms

Its 200 feet from stem to stern.  (My math might be off as I did not try to figure out how much space that gave each room.)

   I smiled.  "I'm not worried about anything from the body.  The fact that you both went to the Emissary's room tells me the body itself isn't hazardous to either you.  I need the gloves for two reasons.  First, I don't know what killed the Emissary.  If the cause of death is some type of contact poison or chemical, I would prefer to avoid getting it on me."

  "The other reason for the gloves is that I don't want to contaminate the body as I examine it.  My biochemistry might not be exactly the same as yours.  I want to avoid the slightest chance of leaving any residue behind."  And there's the small detail of my not wanting to actually touch what was a sentient vegetable.

   Truth be told, I never had much in the way of relationships with plants on Earth, if you don't count cans of peas, green beans, and corn.  The best way I can define it is that while some people have a green thumb, mine is more like a black one.  It's not that I hate plants, some of them are delicious.  I just can't get them to grow.

   Once, I bought a plastic floor plant in an effort to make my office more attractive.  I even occasionally dusted it.  One Spring day, a client commented that my plant needed watering because it was drooping.  I had inadvertently nudged it too close to a heat vent sometime during the Winter and it had started to melt.  Yes, I even managed to kill a plastic plant.

   "I will treat the Emissary with respect, but I need to do a very close examination of the body.  The information I gain could be the link which leads me to the murderer."  I did have this one itty bitty problem.  I needed to find the abnormal condition when I didn't know what the normal conditions were supposed to be.

"Unlike Humans, the Ruox do not have malignant bacteria. Unless there is a poison, or ..." Eight Stalks arms flicker back and forth. "I'm afraid your language lacks the concept. Except for those, I am safe, and only a poison might affect you."

"My duty as a member of the Patrol is to stick my hand into dark holes, and hope something doesn't eat me." England says quietly to you.  "It was neccessary that I enter."

Eight Stalk agrees and England rubber stamps it.

You examine the ten drooping stalks. The tallest is four feet. the shortest two, but most are three and a half.

There is a dense nodule above the root? area just above the shallow tray.  It has wickedly sharp thorns on it.

"That is our brain." Eight Stalk says.

Probing into the soil, you see many tiny roots.  Some hook around contact points in the tray.

The roots are warm.

   The Captain's comment on her job with the Patrol struck home with me.  I'd been doing that for my adult life, both halves of it.

   I needed to get a closer look at the Emissary's body.  Fortunately, I had something stashed to help.  I asked England to go into my pack and get the glasses stashed at the top of the pack.  I didn't need my Multivisor as often as I used my self filling canteen, but I still carried it with me.  I don't recall if it had a magnifying setting, but it had a lot of settings.  Of course, if I wasn't dain brammaged, I would have remembered to get them before I started this.

   I took the orb camera thing and looked at it.  "Interface, when I say the word snap, I want you to take a picture of the part of the body where you are being aimed.  Compare the pictures to your database of healthy and unhealthy beings.  I am looking to identify a condition or conditions which would determine how the Emissary died.  Does my request require additional clarification?"

You're able to go down to X1000, and see the large structures of cells such as the wall and nucleus. and the differences between cell types.

::I believe that I understand to 98.99% Certainty.  I will comply.::

   I went over the Emissary's body very carefully.  I had Interface take a closeup of a section of the body, then I would examine the same section at X10.  I was looking for discolorations, punctures, and anything else that seemed unusual.  I knew that examining every square inch of the body was going to take time, but I owed the Emissary my best work.  Someone killed him.  If I could figure out the how, that might lead me to the who and the why.

::Signs of exertion.::  You see micro-stress fractures in the long stalks.

After a bit more.

::Heat non-dissipation damage.::

As you look at the curling brown edges of the lower stalks.

;;Total body effect::

And when you glance at the bottom of the tray that holds the Emmissary, you see what must be the murder weapon.  A small steel bearing, like a 'steelie' marble.  Its embedded in the bottom side of the white tray.

::Damage to Heat Dissipation Platform rendering it non-functional.  It has been persistently reccommended that Ruox use the 'Black Heavy Duty Model 02' tray which would have not succumbed to damage so easily, for over a century, but individual Ruox tend to ignore this request.  Once, the HDP was damaged, it would have taken less than a minute for a critical heat build-up to cause delirium, and within five minutes, death.  Within in ten minutes, non-recoverable death.::

You spend another hour studying the Emmissary, finding out that he was the highest rank, having ten stalks of the alien ship the Xenon Isotope.  By this time, England has left, and has put Jack Kenner here as your minder/gopher.  Eight Stalk seems to have retreated into some sort of trance as it softly flutes to itself in a complicated form.  Kenner seems fascinated by the music, and listens with intent focus, hardly paying attention to you.

   I had Interface take pictures of the ball bearing embedded in the platform from several angles.  I also had Interface take several pictures of the lighter mark on the deck and the hole in the door.  I made sure to get the relative angles to include the spot in relation to the door and to the body.  I haven't seen a Quincy rerun for a while, but I still knew what to do at a crime scene.

   I now knew the method of the murder.  I was a third of the way to solving this crime.  I still needed to determine who had the most to gain from the murder and who had the means and the opportunity to eliminate the Emissary.  It was time to do what I usually did, annoy enough people until I found out what I needed to know.  Fortunately, that's something I'm especially good at doing.

   I thought I'd start with Eight Stalk.  I got his attention and showed him what killed the Emissary, heat stroke, and what caused it, the ball bearing damaged platform.  I know that I was stating the obvious when I told him, "This was no accident.  This was murder.  I need to remove the bearing to examine it.  It could help me identify the murderer."

"A low tech method." Eight Stalk says.  "Yes, please remove the round metal object."

You're able to do so with a pair of semi-autonomous whisker wire pullers from Patch. Its a metal tube. You explain in its two hundred word language the job, and then it has thin wires that comes from the end, and are under control of the 'wrench'

Its like having a captive and obedient spider at the end of a metal pen that can exert a hundred pounds of torgue over a range of a half-inch.

Once you pull it out, the room beings to stink badly.

   I smiled as I got ready to get the bearing, "I'm a low tech kind of girl."

   "Eww."  I'm not sure what type of coolant the machine used, harmful to humans or not.  Either way, I wasn't going to just stand around here breathing it in.  I had breathed in enough garbage during my last stop.  I removed my left glove and turned it inside out.  I then dropped the bearing into the glove to protect it as much as I could until I could examine it.  "Let's get out of here and reseal the door."  I made sure to grab my pack as I left.

   I spoke to Eight Stalk.  "Can you spare a few minutes in private to talk to me about the Emissary?  The Captain has given me a room to use as an office.  We could talk there."

....Inside the Day Room, which has a large, square table of chestnut, and surrounding seats of  inbuilt sofas, not exactly to Mr. Marlowe's specifications.

....In order to understand the Emmissary, you must understand the Ruox.

In contrary to your and others transient political nrrangements, we Ruox have a stable polity over three thousand years old and including  ahundred star systems.  We are not one of the Great Powers, but no one comes to our territory for fear of traps and well laid supplies hundredsof years old.

We have a common moral tradition, and variations from it are purged, early and often.  Thus breakdowns in social order, and divisions fostered by the corrupt are avoided.

Ten Stalk was an exemplary Low Nobility member of his species.  He was concerned with the honor of his Race, his House, that of Xenon, and its honor, and his own honor.  Although he longed to put up ex;loring and go back to one of the mountain streams of our kind's life.

   I got it.  Ten Stalk was a saint from a society of good guys.  My problem was that seemingly good guys could be really bad guys, like the Killer Clown or that BTK guy.  "I have a series of questions.  I'm trying to solve a murder.  That is my only reason for asking them, so let's get started.  Who has the most to gain from the Emissary's death.  For example, who is or will be tapped to fill the Emissary position?  What does the Emissary's death mean to the mission?  Also, do you know if the Emissary had anything especially valuable that someone, Ruox or Human, might have wanted badly enough to kill to acquire?"

   Killing for gain was a popular activity in my home time line. There were other motives for someone to kill, though.  "Have you or have you know if any other Ruox on board have had any run ins with a particular crew member.  Does any member of the crew not like your people?"

Heh.

"Understood. This is what we hired you for."

"I do not know the Human's motivations, so I could not say. Although, their Preparer of Food insists on comparing us to 'asparagus' and then preparing this dish. I believe this is an insult."

"I am the Second in Command after Ten Stalk.  Now, I am in ....probationary....command."

"It is the policy of the Ruox to deal harshly with immoral activities.  Murder, and the murder of an Aceepted Emmissary is very bad.  Unless the retribution is paid, the Xenon Isotope will proceed to the nearest Human settlement, and use ten gigatonnes of antimatter explosive charges on it. Thus the Universe will be brought back to Justice, and the Many Races will know of the Wrath of the Ruox."

The really chilling thing is how Eight Stalk is calmly reciting this.

"The Emmissary had a Medal of Silver Honor, but only those who Live in Shadow would find honor in stealing such.And we do not permit such aboard our starships."

   A gigawatt is a lot of electricity.  A gigabite would be an awful lot of pizza.  I'm not exactly sure what a gigatonne of antimatter explosive would do, but I'm reasonably positive that ten of them at once would be a very bad thing to happen to any human settlement.  I couldn't let that happen.

   "I will do my absolute best to find the Emissary's murderer.  Other than turning a local human settlement into a rapidly expanding ball of plasma, what do you consider to be a proper retribution?  Also, I need to go through the Emissary's quarters to see if the Silver Medal is still there and to see if there are any indicators of who might have wanted him dead."

   It was too much to hope for a threatening note or some other hard evidence.  I had to go and look, though.  Sometimes even I get a break in a case.  Not often, but sometimes.

Eight Stalk pauses.

"A hundred years of servitude by a million humans. The delivery of the villain and all accomplices to the Ruox for our punishment.  Or the usage of ten gigatonnes of explosive force.  My Interface tells me I expressed myself wrong.  We do not intend to destroy a planet if you fail, for whatever reason.  Only unleash an equivalent force of one trillion kilograms of 'TNT' which is your cultures measure for explosive power."

Its talking about ending life on a planet.  Burning everything down to the granites of creation, and then melting those.

"Follow." It leads you to the bridge, slower than a Human would walk, but with a omni-directional movement, and to the docking port on the side of the bridge.  It then steps into the airlock which is a confined space.  Outside, you can see blackness, and stars, and an enormous ship of odd curves and sudden nodules.  It has no visible 'rockets'.  It does have a spray of wildly curved thin bands about its center 'waist'.

"Are you ready, Detective?"

   "Not yet.  I don't happen to have a pressure suit, vacc suit, space suit, or whatever you call them, in my backpack.  My problem is that my body doesn't do well when exposed to space.  I tried that once and it didn't go well at all."  The Ruox ship was beautiful.  I can't tell you how it works, but then I can't tell you how any spacecraft works.  The rockets I'm most familiar with are bottle rockets.

"We have thoroughly studied your systems as much as we could in the short space we've met.  While the Ruox can survive outer space for a limited time, we have a ....soap bubble."

And now looking closely you can see a shimmering, translucent tube shifting back and forth.

A low chuckle from behind you.

"None of us have been out in the 'Tube'  The Ruox assure us its safe, but even Patch is a bit skeptical." Able Benson says over the intercom.  "I can fetch a suit for you if you like."

   I put my multivisor into my pack, then slip my arms into the straps as I shrug my pack on to my back.  If this bubble walkway thingie goes South, I want my gear with me.  "I don't want a suit.  I trust the Ruox to get this right.  Let's get this done."

You float out into a hundred yard, four foot wide 'soap bubble'.  A moment later you're looking out at the stars.  It takes you a minute, but you soon recognize most of them, as y ou're not that far from Earth.

The Tube flexes behind you, increasing air pressure gently, and scoots you right along. Upon reaching the the green and white door, it turned translucent, and you both enter

The space is an open half-hall.  A pair of Ruox are throwing three, mybe four mini frisbbes that make odd noises as they dip and swoop betweeen the two  Ruox.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   .

   I had not known until now that the Ruox had their own ship.  I had incorrectly assumed that everyone was on one ship.  I've got to get better at this.  I did have a question for Eight Stalk.  "If you're willing to vaporize a human colony for retribution, what stopped you from reducing the Human ship to an expanding ball of gas?  It would take care of the murderer."

"The value of having the specifically guilty entwined in our stalks as we choke the life from the being is great." Long pause.  "Metaphorically."

"It is true that the C.S.S. Marcus Caine with its primitive stutterwarp, magnetic shields, and nuclear armed torpedoes, and maneuvering thrusters is of little danger to the Xenon Isotope which has a far more advanced stutterwarp, forcefields, antimatter missiles with their own reactionless drives, focused plasma torpedoes, and entropic cannons, along with a reactionless drive able to accelerate us to .10c within a few of your minutes."  Eight Stalk seems to be enjoying his recital.
"Justice is not a matter of pragmatism.'

The mini-frisbees are whipping back and forth, the stalks of the game players almost moving too fast to see.

Several others are attending to instruments on the walls of the room.  A five stalker is explaining something to a one stalker.

The five stalker approaches you.
"Pardon. Human Entity. This One Stalked one is born of the same creek system as I am.  It has never met an alien before.  May it be permitted to taste your skin and emotions?"

   I listened to Eight Stalk discuss the Ruox hands on version of Justice... Metaphorically, of course.  Still, I wondered just how much physical force those stalks could create.  I hoped to not have to find out anytime soon.

   As I heard the description of relative superiority of the Ruox ship, it struck me that there could be other types of motives involved.  This case might not necessarily be about gaining anything, but trying to avoid losing something.  It would bear investigating.

   The junior Ruox blindsided me with his request.  I asked Eight Stalk about it.  "We both know that I'm sooo not from around here.  What is this tasting skin and emotions thing?  Should we have dinner and a go see a movie first?"

"With the aid of the Interface, we are able to assign meaning to human chemicals and nerve impulses at the moment of contact.  It is a fleeting bit of telepathy." Eight Stalk says.
"It offers insight into the nature of the being we deal with." Five Stalk adds. "This is why I wish to do this for the youngling.  There is nothing like feeling, even if for a moment the invincible determination of the Naor, or the flittering phosphorescence of the Tre'mag-di-za, to teach a youngling the understanding of what it means to be Not Ruox."

You realize that any one of those techs on the Ruox ship might well allow the CSS to take over Human Space, and make someone Human Emperor.  And that the Ruox certainly don't want to share.  Nasty possibilities swirl in your mind.

And you remember Eight Stalk tasting your arm shortly after  you arrived.

   I sighed.  "Sure, let your youngling taste my arm."  I've never been accused of having good taste, maybe the reverse was true.  At least the Five Stalk asked.  Eight Stalk didn't.

   There were so many motives floating around out here that my chances of picking the right one to follow were slim-to-none.  Personal gain, racial hatred, something political, technological espionage... about the only thing missing was a lover's triangle and the way things were going, I wasn't about to rule that out either.

   I held my left arm out for the tasting.

As you think of a love triangle, for some reason your thoughts go back to the blonde woman staring venomously at you.

It touches you for a bare second on the forearm.  It feels like nothing special which is saddening in a;way.  After all, its not every day you greet ET.

But then it recoils back from you.

"You've killed a God." Every Ruox in the room flutters back from you. "Two."  One Stalk says, as if horrified.  "How do you not go mad with so many doors open before you?"  You get the distinct feeling that all the Ruox in the room would love to run screaming from the room, and lock the door behind them, and then find a nice blanket to hide under.

   Note to self.  No more Vulcan mind melds.  "Kid, those two Gods were trying to kill me.  I tend to take that sort of thing personally and I'm kind of hard to kill."  I didn't understand what was so wrong with doors.  I like doors.  They give you options.  They go places.  "We've got a saying back home.  Be careful what you wish for, because you might get it."

"I see what my mentor means.  You are not Ruox in a funny skin. You really think differently than we do. We would...bow to Fate."  One Stalk says its stalk shivering.  Five Stalk is crooning to it.  One Stalk stops shaking, and speaks firmly.  "Thank you, Misty. You've done me great honor, and broadened my view of the Universe."

The other Ruox relax a bit at that.

Eight Stalk asks what else you would like to see.

   I've never been good at bowing for anything.  I've also never considered that to be a character flaw.

   I dug into my pocket and fished out a quarter.  I offered it to One Stalk.  "This is a coin from where I was born.  One side of the coin has an image of George Washington, a wise and kind man who was a warrior and great leader of my country.  The other side of the coin has an Eagle, a symbol of great strength and bravery to my people.  Please accept it as a reminder of our meeting."  It wasn't like there was anywhere to spend it around here.

   I turned to Eight Stalk.  What I wanted to see was an extra large, deep dish, super supreme pizza with the extra cheese still bubbling from the oven and a cold six pack of Bud Light.  Maybe my next world would have a pizzeria.  "Let's go see if there are any clues in the Emissary's room."

One Stalk takes the coin, and curiously examines it.

'This way." And Eight Stalk leads you to an elevator like room. "Unlike your ship, we do not use corridors.  The rooms in our ship move about in the manner most convenient."

The door that closed, then opens.  A wide, twenty yard circle with a flowing stream, and a pair of small waterfalls goes over a mossy rock base.  On the walls are visions of other creeks and other Ruox in the waters, and all the water flowing down to larger lakes with plenty of islands in the near distance.

One wall is normal ship wall,and covered with dozens of metals, ribbons, papers with curlicues, and sketches of what might be other Ruox if someone hit you over the head with a mallet after sleep depriving you for twenty four hours.

   I couldn't help but wonder who determined where the moving rooms moved.  Maybe it brought new meaning to the term floor manager.  I looked at the interior of the ship.  Who knew that M.C. Escher ever designed alien starship interiors?  "Where is the Emissary's quarters?"

There is a jerky motion of a couple stalks which body movement you've never seen before.

"This is the former Emmissary's quarters."

   I took a deep breath to center myself.  I knew that I was the alien here.  Eight Stalk and company were on what passed for home.  "Would you examine the Emissary's personal files to see what concerns he had about this mission?  I don't know what will turn out to be important, so be thorough.  I'll look for the physical evidence."

   There was a lot riding on this case.  I mean other than my fee, of course.

In reply to Misty (msg # 55):

Even the light reminds you as its got a faint pearly edge not common to Earth.

Eight Stalk begins to flute to a wall, well that, and wavinghis stalks.  The beach scene fell away to be replaced by symbols.

You examine the papered wall.  It seems to be a life spiral, with the center being the start, and various awards occurring  along thelifes path until the "Notice of 'Doom''.

   I stood there a moment just looking at the Emissary's life path/spiral thingie.  I was reasonably sure that it wasn't referring to an upcoming Marvel limited edition series about the ruler of Latveria.  Still, I had to ask.  "Umm, what does Notice of Doom mean to your people?  I know what it sounds like, but I'd like to make sure that I understand this Notice concept completely."

"It is for the end of his life, placed there by a group of his senior collegues, including me."  you do note that there are a lot more awards toward the last bit of his life then at other times.

OOC: I know mysteries are about the hardest type of RPG to run and to play.  The GM is stuck between making it too easy, and too hard.

   So Notice of Doom was their way of saying good bye.  I probably wasn't going to find anything resembling a clue here.  These guys were too tightly wrapped as a society to do something like murder.  Still, it might give me more of a sense of who the Emissary actually was, which in turn might help me figure out who did him in.

   "Did the Emissary keep any personal journals or private mission logs?  They might contain helpful information."

In reply to Misty (msg # 59):

"The wall is the only information he chose to survive his death. This is the moments of honor, and of such we concern ourselves. It is not uncommon for us to flush our personal musings, if we keep such, at death.  We have observed the Marcus Caine.  Data logs are far more common on board it than among us."

   This trip turned out to be a bust.  A squeaky clean alien society which eliminated personal records when the member died wasn't going to provide much if anything in the way of clues for this investigation.  Still, I might not have found that out has I not come over here.  "I've seen enough here.  I need to get back to the other ship to continue my investigation."

In reply to Misty (msg # 61):

The transition is both terrible as something as thin and flexible as a soap bubble is all that is between you and interstellar space, and amazing for the same reason.  You leave the Xenon and arrive on the Marcus, and instantly feel the shake-shake of the idling stutterwarp grip you again.

A tootling ta-rah-rah greats you, along with a tall,  thin man with brilliantly dark eyes.

"I'm Sensors, Nigel Oppenheimer, yes, he's my great to the seventh.  I'm supposed to scan you for alien infection, nanites, your not being you but a robot, your body being you, but an artificial brain being installed in your place, or whatever other paranoid fantasies the Men in Grey Suits can come up with. Hmmm...."

He pauses his high speedf jibber-jabber and frowns.

"Your internal ware claims that it has run one more diagnostic cycle than it had before you left.  Since I wonder if you would have done such....and let me assure you, I can't.  Maybe Patch could if he had you on a table.  I can read your status reports but not acctivate them."

==================

The XO is waiting off to the side for Sensors to finish with you.  He is flanked by two women.  One, the blonde who gave you The Look, and on the other side by Miss Slinky who had shot down Hugh Islands in flames.

Once you're done, he introduces them to you.

"Detective Misty, I believe these are the only two members of the crew you have not yet met.  This blonde beauty is our very own pageant winner."
"Only at the Hemispheric Level on Waters." She waves it off unconvincgly, and you can see in the midst of her strained face, the remanants of what had been considerable beauty.  time and life have not been kind to her.
"I am Katherine Islands, wife of Hugh Islands.  My job is Helm. Usually, I'm pretty busy, but now that we're docked, I'm out and about."
You can see she is trying to be polite.

"Corporal Luna Miles, Centauran Cyber Marine. Retired after my ten. I hand out toilet paper and spare coils, space tape, and chocolate.  I secdond Chief DuBois and Gaulois as needed."  She's got an alert presence to her, and a look in her eyes that she's 'seen the elephant'.

"And we make sure she gets her regulation twelve hours off for sleep." The XO says with a small smile.

He turns to you, and despite the oddity of his eyes, he has a sympathetic presence.

"Now, we're open to questions. I an England agree, the quicker this is cleared up, the better. You can have your choice of guardians as you walk about the ship, or we can bring in crew to your office.  All the crew is instructed to be completely forthcoming and honest."

   Sensors was getting a little too personal.  "My internals are none of your concern.  I am also not any concern of Patch, either."  If I need any additional work done, it certainly won't be here.

   I turned my attention back to the XO.  "I'd prefer to meet with them in my office.  It is a neutral setting."   I wasn't all that familiar with the ship, yet.  It just seemed like the best way to get things rolling again after spinning my wheels on the other ship.  I need to need things moving with so many people to interview.  "Let's start with Corporal Miles."

Sensors babbles out apologies until the XO touches his shoulder.

The XO nods.

"Corporal, the captain's day room."
"Sir. Ma'am."

She leads you to the day room, not that you need it with the rather simple '8' shape of the ship. You see Chief DuBois and Engineer Jack Kenner conferring in the hallway.
"....engage the s...without computer...?"

And then you pass Patch who is opening the grate floor. He flips a smile your way, and in his fast forward way, ducks under the deck, putting the grate back down so you can walk on it.

You notice Kenner making a point to get out of Cpl. Miles way.

You and she enter, and you take your seat while she draws herself up in formation before your desk.

"Ma'am?"

   I was kind of at a loss.  I didn't have access to a forensic lab to process evidence.  Of course, even when I had access to one, my usual investigative technique was to poke around enough to make somebody mad enough at me to reveal themselves by trying to kill me.  There was no reason to think the technique wouldn't work here.

   "Cpl. Miles, I'm here to investigate a murder.  I'll try to take up as little of your time as possible.  Since I'm new here, why don't you start by telling me about yourself, your position, and how things work around here."

"I am a Cyborg Marine, retired.  My cyberware is inactive due to that. " She looks bitter and sad.  "It is what I signed up for.  Ten years of being able to bend steel bars, and leap small houses, and run at seventy miles per hour, and twenty years less life at the end, and ....it was worth it.  Problem is, the time inbetween.  I now have enough ware in my body to weigh me down.  I'm required by law to get twelve hours of sleep a day. One day, a demigoddess, the next, half-crippled."

"My old self could have done the job.  We hear that a steel bearing got slammed into the cooling tray.  And the force required is more than human strength so you need a device or something."

She shrugs.  And her movements seem rough.

"I am double-dipping.  I hope to retire with twenty in the Survey as well as my ten which counts double, so I'll be able to retire to a nice planet with two retirements.  My job is ....dead simple.  I could do it falling asleep.  I hand out what is required, keep track of supplies, do inventory.....easy peasy.  Next trip I hope to get Helm or Torps.  Too bad I can't sing, or I'd go for Engineer."

"I mostly sit in my Supply 'Closet' and wait for requests.  Right now, I'm reading the great classics of the Hawaiian Rennaissance.  Three thousand pages for 'Friend of a Canoe' which is not what I ever thought I'd be doing."

   "Tell me about the other people on the ship."

She frowns.

"I do not wish to be a snitch.  This is especially so because your witchhunt, based on alien allegations, will probably end with one or more of us dead.  And even as annoying as Hugh Islands is, I do not wish him dead."

She braces her shoulders.

"I decline to answer."

   "I wasn't aware that I was hunting for witches.  And here I thought I was searching for the being or beings who murdered the Emissary aboard your ship.  He wasn't allegedly murdered.  He was actually murdered.  I have already eliminated the aliens from the suspect pool.  That leaves the crew of your ship.  I need you to tell me about your relationship with the rest of the crew."

   I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.  I needed the Corporal on my side.  "Do you know why I'm doing this?  If I can't figure out who killed the Emissary, they are going to wipe out a large colony of humans in retaliation.  You aren't an active Marine now.  The way I learned it back home, once you were a Marine, you were always a Marine.  If that is still true, can you stand there and allow that kind of destruction by your failure to help?"

She sighs, and you can tell you've not totally won her over.  But she's going to at least partially cooperate.

"Our Executive Officer is Abel Benson.  He's an xtreme sports guy back home, and a swinging bachelor, but he turns that off once he's on board ship."

"Chief DuBois, is head of security, and I get on well with him.  He's a close friend.  He's got a fair bit of experience both in his life and his ancestors who go back to the Unity War.  Personally, since he was on guard at the time, and with his skills, I'd think it more likely he did it if the alien were 'accidentally' dead."

"Captain England is from an odd Christian denomination, and from Prime, which leads the Union.  She's raised her voice twice in all the  years I've known her.  She watches, analyzes, waits. She's good at what she does.  Could not be a marine."

"Gaulois is devoted to service and to excellence personally.  I cannot see any reason for him to do this, unless the aliens had the Galaxy's Best Recipe and were not giving it to him.'

"Hugh is well, Hugh.  The Waterworld is an aristocracy, and from an interplanetary perspective on the poor side.  Both Heavy and Prime are significantly more important.  But on Waterworld, Hugh is fairly important.  And its his culture.  The nobles of Waterworld are ....not inclined to take their vows seriously.  But they do make a religion of being discreet.  Cheating is ok. getting caught is the sign of a boor."

"Jack, well, he's got the abstract mind of a stutterdriver, and the voice.  He comes across as 'hail fellow well met' but he's actually pretty deep."

"Katherine....poor girl.  She was a member of the Doving Church, a Christian sub-sect which in reaction to the nobles is committed.  And....well, she believed Hugh, and at first she was quite a catch for Hugh.  A real beauty queen, and Hugh's not a first son.  She takes meds to keep her calm."

"Nigel watches everything with a bright-eyed enthusiasm.  I think, from a few things he's said that he's a bit neuroatypical, and he's trying to figure out how normal people act.  He's very good.  Top marks, and most years in the finals in the Sensor Challenge."

"Patch is from Nanding, which makes Waterworld look like Rich City.  Its the poorest planetoid in the system.  Patch learned to do everything at twice the speed of normal people in order to stand out, and get him a chance to get off Nanding.  He doesn't like Jack because he feels like he's a real Engineer, and not a Mechanician.  Its not an uncommon pov among Mechanicians."

"And that is all..." She says, and suddenly she's Miss Slinky again.  There is a grace and ferocity in her movements that belongs to a master martial artists or a tiger.

Her first look of pure relief changes to joy, and then to instant surmise as she sees your face.

"You'll tell." She rips off a yard long spear off the table edge with her bare fingers, and now you can see murder in her eyes...

   I boosted on reflex and fired a mental spike at the Corporal.  Not for the first time in my life, I regretted the loss of my ranged stun weapon.  As I dropped into a martial arts stance I wondered if she really killed the Emissary or she just didn't like me.

A metallic taste fills your mouth, and the world slows down.  The Corporal considers a simple strike with her improvised spear, but then revises to go for an upward jab that would end in your throat.

She did not expect you to be as fast as she is.  You block, so to speak, the spear by having six inches of it slam through your left forearm.

Her left fist is coming in as a hook as well. Already you can see her style.  Fast, brutal, direct.  Nothing complicated, just a beat down on fast forward.  You catch the insider of her wrist with a block which hurts your arm as well since she's got metal in her arm.

She plows forward, trying to use her thighs to break the table loose and throw you back into the wall.  The bolts thathold the table to the floor wail in metallic agony.

A look of agony and lost focus crosses her face as you pain spike her mind.

P.S.  I've taken into account what you said about poking and getting a response so I've shifted gears.

   I take her momentary loss of focus to try to strike her in her throat just as hard as I possibly can.  The aliens might want her alive, but at this point I just need her to be dead.

You hit her, and smash in her larynx, which could be a fatal blow.  She folds drops, and sprawls across the floor.  You're surprised to hear her breathing, and you look down, and she is, but their is a metronomic quality about it.

"Open up!" You hear from the outside...

OOC: +@1 to Relevant Hand to Hand Combat Skill as you've not fought a boosted cyborg before.

   I fight through the pain in my arms.  The crude metal spear looks surrealistic sticking through my arm.  I'm no medic, but I'm pretty sure that if I remove it, I could bleed out.  I hold the spear as I walk carefully to the door to open it.  I really hope whoever is on the other side of the door doesn't want to kill me right now.  Later would be all right.  I'm just not up for it at the moment.

Nigel shoves his head in the door soon as it begins to open, sees your arm, and locks on to it for a fraction of a second, and then looks you dead in the eyes with an impersonal ferocity.

"Shocky." He mutters.  Then he looks past you to the Corporal and moans slightly.  "She's alive, despite your best efforts." He snaps, and then yells, rather bellows.

"Gaulois. Medic X for two. Stat."

Behind him, the blonde is staring at you with a look of amazement on her face.

Gaulois comes running with a box with a red cross on it.  He quick checks both of you, curses, and as he pulls out a syringe says to Nigel Oppenheimer.

"Keep an eye on Misty's stats, Nige."
"Already there, Doc. I'm in Full Scan Mode with Hard Record Enabled."
He stabs you in the arm.
"I hope this won't interact badly with your cocktail of drugs." Then he jabs another syringe into the Corporal.
"That will keep her calm and asleep until I can repair the damage." Gaulois says.

   "She tried...  to kill me...  Wasn't very good...  at her job..."  I shut the boost down and got very woozy all of a sudden.  Maybe it was the wound.  Maybe it was the injection.  Maybe it was...  "I...  uhhhh..."

You're standing on a desolate rocky peninsula jutting out into a wild, and cold sea.  Above  you is a great tree, with spreading branches, and no stairs await you.  High in the tree, a man moans as he dangles fro the branches. On the lowest of the branches, a black bird sits.

I warned you before, and you did not listen.  Listen now, Graywalker.  Motive...who desires something?  Means....who can propel a small ball with accuracy and superhuman speed?  Opportunity....who can get to a guarded door unobserved?  Your Corporal has the means, but what is her motive? Her opportunity?

You wake in the medbay.  Your arm is swathed in a skin-like substance.  Other than feeling a bit tired and thirstym you fee fine.

Gaulois enters the room.

"Water, or perhaps a fine wine?" He laughs.  "I've patched you back together.  Sorry, at least a third of the damage done was done by my syringe.  You already had bloodclotters going on, and I dumped way too much in. almost turned your blood to sludge, or a nice blood pudding before I tossed in an antagonist, and ..."

He sighs, and hands you a paper.

Its a Request for Official Reprimand for Incompetence.

"If you wish, you can sign this anytime over the next 24 hrs."

Now looking more cheerful, he asks if you have any questions....

   I was really thirsty.  I managed to croak out, "Water is fine."  Once I had a few sips, I continued on.  "You walked into an unknown situation and did the best that you could.  I'm still here, so you couldn't be all that officially incompetent."  I handed him back the form.

   "There is one more thing.  I need to see the Captain and the ummm..."  My brain felt as solid as a brick of Swiss cheese.  "Errr...  the head alien guy.  Maybe that's two more things?"

"Thank you for your understanding." Gaulois nods, and takes the paper back quietly.  "Yes, Let me check you over..."

He shines lights in your eyes, listens to your heart, takes your BP, and hangs a color-changing filament above your head.

"You're released. Let me go fetch England and Eight-Stalk."

Four minutes later, the outer door goes 'cah-ghungk', and then footsteps, and then Mrs. Islands, former beauty pageant winner, and chief hater of Misty onboard sticks her head in.  Her eyes are red with shed tears, but there is no softness in her expression.

"Manstealer."  Her voice is low and intense.

A fan seems to have kicked on.

   I took a quick look around for my weapon harness.  I didn't think I'd need it for Mrs. Islands, but you never knew.  I offered her as big a smile as I could, but it had already been a long day.  The smile batteries were running a little low on power.  "What's wrong, Cupcake?  Are you upset that your pet attack dog didn't get the job done?"

"I could do a better fake smile by the time I was seven and competing for Young Miss Province."  She says."And I have no idea what you're talking about.  Hugh was probably with her last night.  What I'm talking about is you staying away from my husband."

Your weapon's harness is not in the room.

There's a rather strong breeze running through the room.  You see Gaulois's tools of his trade bouncing lightly on the countertop next to your bed.

   Even as beaten up as I feel, eventually I still realize when someone is trying to kill me.  As I steeled myself to boost I realized that this isn't the best time I could be relying on my internals to keep me alive.  Still, it was what I had to make work.  "Move!  Now!"

   I boosted and grabbed my personal blonde jeerleader as I tried to power through the doorway before the pressure sensors slammed the hatch closed and the lack of breathable air asphyxiated the both of us.

You slam into her, and take her down with an oomph on her part.  She's shocked...

"You ....!!"  And she goes for your eyeballs with her fingernails, but boosted, and probably even not so, you're simply stronger than her.

You're through the doorway, and the door closes behind you.  And yet wind whips around the next area, and the Chef runs up with a spray bottle in hand.

"Stop, pageant girl, stop. She's not guilty."

WHAMMPFF

You see Frederic Gaulois slammed, spread-eagled against the wall.

"Come to dose me, doctor?"  Her voice sounds dangerous, and you realize you're starting to float.

   I don't need this.  I fire a pain spike at our cheerlessleader.  I don't exactly know what she's doing, but I do know that I don't want her to keep doing whatever it is.

It smacks into her mind, and then quickly hits toughening shields.  She looks startled.

"A Telempath!  You're illegal too..."

And both of you are floating in the hallway. Her hair is flying outward from her skull, snapping with electricity.

"She didn't do it. The..."

And there is s sudden drop in emotional tone from fury to cold murder.

Gaulois turns to the side, and says quietly.

"England."

   I put up a psi bubble around me.  I don't exactly know why I'm floating in the air, but if this is some kind of ancient Jedi mind trick, my protective field should help me balance things.  I made a mental note to talk to Gaulois when things settled down.

Pageant Girl dismisses you from her attention even as you bubble up.  You hit the deck lightly with your knees bent, just in time to see her turn about and float off down the hallway.  She releases Gaulois as well.

"She's an unregistered Grade Three Telekinetic.  I've been giving her a mix of most benapizortinalioids to a tenth part mood stabilizers to keep her from having an 'episode'.  Anyone above a Grade One is not allowed into the Service.   Its cruel and stupid.  With proper medication they're no more dangerous than anyone else." Gaulois tries to explain, looking rather frantic as well, as what he's done is pretty clearly against medical codes.

   I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly to try to calm down.  "All right, Doc.  Tell me what you were going to say about the Captain.  Also, where is my weapon harness?"  I scriff scanned around for my weapons.  It's not that that I didn't trust the Doc.  On this ship, I didn't trust anybody.

"Well, Mrs. Islands, our Pageant Girl, thought the cyborg was going after her husband.  But she wasn't. And as soon as you showed up, she assumed you were as well. It was Captain England who was having the affair with  Hugh."

He pauses.

"We need to alert Chief DuBois. I think Pageant may be on her way to commit murder of the captain."

He staggers to his feet holding the bottle upright, but like its a weapon all the same.  An acrid odor comes from it.  He quickly leads you to your weapons.  You hear a holler from Nigel in the distance.

"Hey...stop....owwww."

   "You go alert the Chief while I finish getting dressed for work."  I worked my way back into my weapon rig, then checked to see that none of them had been unloaded or deactivated.  With as much practice as I've gotten, the process didn't take as long as you might expect.

   Solving relationship problems was a little out of my line.  I was better at just identifying them and letting the people involved resolve them, but I set off to find England anyway.

You're ready to counsel real quick. ("See, here's my gun. Now get along, or else!")

Running up the hallway, you see the Bridge door shut and a flicker of blonde hair on the other side.  Laying on the grate is Nigel.  He's unconscious, and his right leg looks like its bent in a direction its not supposed to bend.

You and everyone else hears the Bridge intercom.

"Tell the truth, Captain England, or I swear I will use the Bridge controls to launch a torp at the Xenon."

You almost shoot Patch the Technician as he pops up out of a grate at your feet.

"Can I help?" He leaps quickly to his feet.

   I was just about to particle beam my way through the door when Patch the Technician popped up.  "Can you get me past the Bridge door, Patch?"  I held on to the blaster.  It's still an option.

"Through the door...half  a minute, but they'll see you coming.  I gotta portable shield, but..."  He holds out something that looks like a gm's screen, but twice the size, and made of some bubbly gray foam with a strap handle on the inside.

"Look, Katherine, I understand you're mad..." England's voice is deeply calm.  She could be discussing the proper placement of commas right now for all the stress you hear in her voice.

"Or," Patch adds. "You can crawl through the undergrating tunnel, and come out under the science station on the right side of the bridge."

   I didn't really like either plan...  "Give me time to get through the undergrating tunnel, then get your shield ready as you work on the door to get it open.  Her paying attention to your entry attempt buys me the distraction to stop her as cleanly as possible."  ...So I went with both of them.

England and Katherine Islands continue arguing.  Or more precisely, England calmly denies, and Katherine bellows accusations.  You see sparks jump from metal bits to other metal bits, and there is a nasty feeling of tension hanging in the air.

Your mental bubble pushes the tensions and the electric arcs back as you scramble through the dimly lit underdecking.  Its confined, and awkward, and you're half-crawling, half climbing through bits including a hanging sign that says 'Technicians are REAL Engineers'.

And then you come up under the science desk, and the grate is above your face.  You can't see anyone from here.  But you can hear England with her voice finally strained.

"Let me down, Navigator Islands. Thats an  order."

You're not sure how far along Patch is, but its been more than thirty seconds...

   I try to move the grate as quietly as I can to not draw attention to myself as I get ready to join this conversation.  It doesn't sound as I have any time to waste.

The grate tags the edge of its frame as you put it back down, and rinnnnnggg, a clear chiming noise spins through the smoky, acrid air. You're hiding behind a chair made of foam, and it has smoldering spots on it.

Katherine Islands is floating in the air next to the Captain's chair in the center of the ship's bridge, about fifteen feet away, surrounded by sparks, her hair flying out....

England is standing on her tip toes, clutching at her throat five feet away beyond Katherine.  Her head is at a bad angle, and her face is beet red.  She can't speak.  Scanners on the wall behind her are on the fritz.

Katherine spins toward you at the noise, and sparks rain down all around you, but none breach the mental bubble.

"You're an illegal esper too!!"  She yells in startlement, and then focuses her intent...you can see her eyes narrowing, and feel an enormous will drawing itself to a point...."All of you want to steal my husband.  I'll kill you all."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:04, Mon 01 Feb 2016.

   I sighed.  "Katherine, just shut up."  It's bad enough having to take them out without having to listen to their rantings ahead of time.  Maybe I'll get lucky enough to have to fight a mime next time.

   I'm not in much of a position to do a lot until I get out of the duct.  Still, I do have one reply that has usually been effective in this sort of situation.  I can't get to my belt weapons, so I haul my constant traveling companion from her shoulder rig and fire a pair of 9mm bullets toward Katherine.

She looks shocked that you dare to tell her to shut up.  Then she starts getting even more mad...

Then you shoot her twice in the chest.

And the toys have all their strings cut, and fall down to the ground.

Patch bursts in within the second after you fire. He looks wildly about with a wrench in his hand and a shield in the other ready to do mayhem.

The sparks are gone, the screens are still on the fritz.

   "It's over, Patch.  Go get the medic to see if everyone else is all right."  I slip my Glock back into her shoulder holster and work myself out of the duct.  I'm trying to ignore the fact that I'm currently wearing had whatever had been collecting in that duct for who knows how long.

   I stopped a deranged mentalist and saved several lives, including my own.  My problem is that I'm not done.  Even though Katherine tried to kill several people, I don't think the Emissary was her style of kill.  Her wild, hot blooded style didn't match up to the cold blooded technique of disabling the alien's cooling system and leaving him to expire.  There was still a killer loose on the ship...  Other than me, of course.

   I waited for England to recover enough to say something.

"Uh, ah, uh, right. Right." Patch leaves, and shortly the Chef/Medic Gaulois comes in. He gives England a look, and then tosses, Katherine in a bag as soon as he can.  It self-inflates, and lights go on the exterior.

Then he slows down, and helps England up to her Captain's chair.  He gives her a drink of some thick fluid.

"That should ease the neck strain, and sore throat.  I can give you some relaxants..."

England shakes her head no, and tells him to close the hatch, on privacy.

England looks over at you, leaning a bit to one side in her chair, obviously the worse for wear.

"You wanted to talk to me.  I can see it in your eyes."

   "Captain, I don't know how your Navy recruits it's crew or your personal guidelines for crew selection, but as I see it, you aren't very good at it.  You have your ship Doctor drugging an illegal class three mentalist to allow her to serve aboard your ship.  You allow your cook to serve dead stalked veggies in honor of a living stalked race?  You have an actively borged up Space Marine Supply Officer.  And personally, your choice of bed partners?  Seriously?  A married man?"

   I took a deep breath to center myself.  "That much stupidity can't be accidental.  Just what kind of a ship are you running here, Captain?  What is your real mission here?"  I crossed my arms as I waited, my right hand dangerously close to my Glock.

She winces, and looks away.

"I...did not know about Gaulois drugging Katherine Islands.  And I am truly shocked at my marine being borged up.  It is supposed to be nigh impossible to break through the software encryption that keeps the borging off."

She pauses.

"Understandably, a Board of Review is not going to be pleased with a claim of ignorance."

She looks you in the eyes.

"That last charge I am fully culpable in.  He made a pass, I entertained it being aware of the reputation of Islander nobles as discreet, as they do not kiss and tell in the vernacular.  I was lonely."

Her manner of calmness makes it hard to decide if she's lying or evading or telling the exact truth.

"My mission remains the same, to explore space to the benefit of the Centaurians.  Believe me, starting a war with one of the more ancient and vast alien races would not benefit us.  They could destroy our whole species with a trivial effort."

She looks at your gun.

"I am not the murderer you are looking for, but if needed, you can accuse me.  Better one soon to be cashiered naval captain than a whole human colony."

Edit: You realize that Captain England's total calm betrays exactly the sort of person who could have killed the Emmissary.  Now she claimed to come down, and see the Chief waiting, but...

Hard to say.  The only thing she lacks is the physical ability to launch a marble that hard. Maybe.....????
This message was last edited by the player at 15:13, Thu 11 Feb 2016.

   I have several pieces of physical evidence that have given me questions.  What cut the hole in the door and who had the tool and skill to do it.  Where did the metal marble come from and who had access to the area where it is stored?  What launched the projectile?  Who had the skill to bounce the bearing off the floor to hit the underside of the tray?  When I find my answers, I find my killer.

   I don't do this very often, but the Captain's deadpan admissions have me concerned enough to do something I usually try to avoid.  "Captain, I am here to solve a murder.  If I accuse you, the real murderer gets away.  I can't let that happen.  I won't let that happen.  Your actively helping me could help mitigate the Board of Review's decision.  Think about the murder for a minute and give me your answer."

   I'm trying to read her surface thoughts to see what she is thinking.

::I...should tell her that the Chief was asleep, I think, when I came up to the Emmissary's door....but why bother....my life is over anyways, better I take the fall than one of my crew.....Patch, obviously, the Engineer, probably the Chief could handle the door....marble could have come from anywhere....the Chief's a good shot, so is Nigel, what with his scanning software.....::

"Patch, as you saw, is a very accomplished Technician.  Our Engineer is skilled. They could do the door. Nigel could do the shot as well."

::Dear Lord, I hope its not a conspiracy of two to do this.  I couldn't take losing two of my people.::

"Able Benson, please come to the Bridge, at once." England tabs the ship intercom.

::I'm going to place myself under house arrest, and let Benson take over.  He's a good guy. I guess.  I can't believe I didn't see all this mess. I thought we were a happpy ship.::

You check out the Air Boxes, and none of them show signs of being tampered with in a way that would be needed to make such a shot work, according to Patch, and the Engineer sticks his head in, and grumpily agrees.

Patch tells you that the hatch should have opened earlier, but he could not get it to move. He's apologetic.

   I told Patch that Katherine was probably keeping the door from opening and there was probably nothing he could have done to change that in the time I had given him to open the door.  Once he left, I went on.

   "Captain, I don't think you killed the Emissary.  I also don't think you know who did the murder.  Therefore, you still have a killer on your ship and I still have to find out who it is.  We were doing individual crew interviews.  Other than two of your crew trying to kill us, I think we were getting somewhere.  I need to get cleaned up and we can continue with the interviews."

   A check of their air guns didn't turn up anything.  It would have been nice to have a murder weapon in hand.  Still, I wasn't done yet.  I still had a murderer to identify.

The Chef/Medic Frederic Gaulois enters into your damaged 'office' before you get a chance to clean up.

"I expect you want to talk to me.  I without anyone other than Katherine's knowledge conspired to give her a daily dose of mood stabilizer and anti-psi meds in her nightly tea, and at other times as I thought she needed it."

He pauses.

"That will be enough to get me booted from the Service. However, I would ask that you not report this."

He clears his throat, and places a notebook full of a hundred pages of various incidents in your hands.

"The common view is of espers as mentally unstable.  It is true they have a higher degree of such, but its in part because of how they are treated.  As for the other things, most of their problems can be medicated.  And those..." He points at the folder "Cannot be fixed by normal means, but were incidents where Espers saved lives, including in one notable incident over 50,000 lives when the Tennkomi Fusion Reactor #4 nearly went critical, and a combination of precog visions, and telekinesis enabled the safe shut down of the reactor."

He gives you a pleading look.

OOC: So far you've dismissed the crew of the Xenon Isotope, Katherine Islands, and Captain England as suspects.

That leaves....Able Benson XO and Interim Captain; Chief of Security; Chef/Medic Gaulois; Hugh Islands Middle sized frog from small pond; Cyborg Marine, Nigel at Sensors with two breaks in leg, Patch as Technician, and Engineer overseer of stutterwarp field with good singing voice.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:03, Mon 15 Feb 2016.

   I looked at the Chef and Medic and Murder Suspect with the hardest look I knew how to project.  "Your poor little misunderstood esper was in the process of killing the Captain and was taking her best shot at me when I put her down.  You let her get that far which makes you an accomplice to the Captain's attempted murder... and to her attempt on me."  I really didn't know if it did in this zone, but I went with it and went on after giving him a moment to let what I had said sink in.

   "I really don't care about your personal views of how espers on your world are treated.  What happens to you is up to the Captain.  I don't work for your Captain, your Navy, or your government.  I work for the Roux.  I'm here to solve the murder of their Emissary.  And before we get started, I have a question.  Are you an esper, too?"

"I...." He sags a bit, and then nods.

"I gave her a larger dose than usual last night because I saw how she was overreacting.  No, I am not a pschyic.  What I am is case #43 in that file.  A pyrokinetic ran into a fire, and saved me as a young child.  His reward ....he got forcibly overdosed so heavily that he could barely do his job.  I learned how to cook from him."

His beaten look is vanishing and fire, not actual fire, but rage fills his eyes.

"So when 'We're so Perfect' snots....whether aliens like these or Humans show up, I really don't care about the System.  The System wants robots. I serve individuals, for lunch, and as a doctor, and if you don't like it...." That's a yell...

He's breathing heavily right now, and his face is blotchy red. No signs of TK tho'...

   I'm no medic, but this guy looked as if he was about to blow a fuse or short circuit.  It just wouldn't do for the medic to stroke out.  I didn't want to have to try to explain to the Roux that everyone I questioned ended up dead.  "Take a few deep breaths and calm down.  And, just in case you're thinking of making a move, consider that a borged up Marine and a class three esper took their best shots at me and lost."  I smiled at him, but there wasn't much, if any, warmth in it.

   "When you're ready to start thinking with your big head instead of your little one, you'll remember that I'm not from around here and my job is just to do one thing.  I'm going to find a murderer.  I'm not going to change any political or social systems, because I'm not a part of any of those systems.  I'm going to sit here and watch you get yourself together.  Think about the murder and tell me what you know about it when you're ready to talk about it..."

   ... While I monitor your surface thoughts to know what you are thinking.

In reply to Misty (msg # 112):

He starts controlled breathing, and tests his pulse.

At your suggestion of violence, he looks startled, as if the notion had never occurred to him. You've heard of people who if faced with a bad guy who wanted to kill them, and they had a gun were still not able to shoot.  It looks like this fellow is one of those.  Maybe.

Of course, he calms down very quickly, so he has some biofeedback training.

His first thoughts are very uncomplimentary.

"Fine." He gives you an undisguised glare of contempt.

"I don't know anything about the murder, and although I find them annoying, I do not want them killed."

::I'd protect a Human, if I knew who did it, but hunh, I don't have a clue.  Everyone seems nerved up a bit, but no one except for my poor Katherine....she must have missed her last dose of tea to so overreact.  I suppose I ought to start carrying a syringe of Sleepy Juice set for Gorilla up my sleeve again, Like I did on the infantry carrier, Linox, just in case this annoying woman tries to shoot me or something.::

He seems to feel that dosing someone with a sedative is not an 'act of violence' which he is strongly against.

   "Truthfully, I can't see you doing that kind of murder.  If you were guilty. you had a chance to do me in to protect yourself after my fight with your Supply Officer.  You didn't take that chance, so as far as I'm concerned, you're off my suspect list."

   I tried to soften my tone a little, since I already knew what I needed from him.  "Look, I know that I can be a violent person.  It's a part of what I do, but I'm not the bad guy here.  I'm trying to identify the killer of an Alien Ambassador to save the lives of an entire human colony of innocents... total strangers who would have to pay for one person's crime.  Trying to save lives is something we have in common.  You don't have to like me.  You do, however, have to stay out of my way."

   Listening in this time gave me an idea.  I need to check the personnel files for my remaining suspects before I do my next interview.  Maybe I could find some anti-alien indicators or some other way of knowing of just who I'm questioning.

In reply to Misty (msg # 114):

"You....were...a...patient."
::Maybe they don't have the Hippocratic Oath where she comes from?::

He sighs.

"You're right. We don't have to like each other to do our jobs."
::Its why I never went for command track.  Difficult decisions like choosing who dies are too much for me.::

"My apologies if I have given offense." Which is not quite an actual apology...

He leaves, and you call up the data files on the others on the ship.


1. Captain (Temp) Able Benson: Tall, slim, athletic, baritone voice, commanding with ease.
Was Midshipman on the Druckner Haven when a still unknown alien ship attacked the ship, and nearly destroyed it.

2. Chief of Security Charles Dubois: 4ft tall and as much wide.  Buzzcut hair. Security conscious, curious about your weapon, he carries a PDE, a large box that moves air but while it could be rigged to shoot marbles, it was not.  Apparently.  Guard at time of Emmisary's death.
Other than a stated preference to build up the Navy to defend against Aliens,  nothing.

3. Chef/Medic Frederic Gaulois: A complicated, intelligent man.  Not a shooter, and a dedicated doctor.  In DnD terms, Chaotic Good, but pretends to be Lawful Good.  Also pretends to be Vewy French when acting as a chef.  Is a pro-Esper activist.  A man of many secrets. Anti-authoriatraian.
Pschy analysis: Mild Xenophobia.

4. Former Captain England: Very quiet in manner. Commanding. Lonely. Unable to see beyond her Prime planet upbringing so she assumes better motives of people than they may deserve.  Believes in crew as her second family.

5. Hugh Island, pretty boy, bedhopper, minor noble from poor-ish planet. Discreet. Saber training.
Analysis: As per most Islander nobles, they are offended by being third-rate in the Centauran System, let alone Human being subservient to Aliens.

6. Jack Kenner: Huge frame, large belly. Voice like thunder and caramel. Singer. Cares for the Stutterwarp.  Ship's Engineer.
Analysis: Personality difficulties with Patch and Hugh.

7. Nigel, Sensor Chief: Able to tap into sensors all over the ship at whim.  Has personal sensors that can pick up Misty's 'ware.
Analysis: 'Classified'....Sensor officers are frequently curious, intrusive, and asocial by nature which they can be trained to mimic more neurotypical humans.  Nigel is friendly to a degree to Aliens who he regards, but he has a deep paranoia.

8. Patch: Ship Techician; has some degree of dislike of Kenner on a professonal jealousy level.  Moves very fast.  Highly competent.  Grew up on the very poor moon, Diznoir, and was able by work ethic and very superior test scores to escape to the Navy.  Very loyal to the Navy in consequence.
Analysis: Unusually has no positive or negative opinion of Aliens.

9. Katherine Islands....well, you know.  She's in a cryobag in the medbay, too injured to be treated aboard the Marcus Caine.

10. Cyborg Marine> Classified.

   The files were interesting and gave me a couple places to dig for more information.  I took a few minutes to use some of my wipes to clean off some of the accumulated gunk from my neck, face, and hands.  Maybe it was caution, or maybe it was paranoia, but suddenly I didn't feel all that comfortable with the idea of changing clothing with a sensor happy guy like Nigel around.  I felt somewhat refreshed, so it was time to get back to work.

   I took a moment to replace the two fired nine millimeter cartridges in my Glock.  The mag still contained enough ammunition to shoot every remaining suspect aboard the ship twice, but leaving a partial mag in a weapon wasn't something I did.  Who knows, I might need to shoot one of them three times.

   I set off to find and talk to Benson, the temporary Captain.  Having lost friends to an alien ship attack might drive someone to attack any powerful alien in a case of misplaced revenge.

You find Captain Benson on the Bridge.  He's assisting and supervising the rewiring of some bridge screens with Patch and Jack.  He's as much keeping them apart as doing other things.

He looks harried. There are several open tablets on his chair.

When he sees you, he frowns, but quickly nods.

He takes you to the wardroom/cafe', and chases out the Marine and Hugh and Frederic.

He turns to you briskly.

"I have roughly, I kid you not, five thousand pages of data I need to review before I get to bed.  I was planning on taking my Captaincy exam in about four years. Maybe three.  I mean no offense, but make it quick."

   I smiled at my new lead suspect.  I wanted to get this over, too, but for a completely different reason.  I was starting to run out of suspects.  "I understand, Captain.  I'll try not to take any more time than absolutely necessary.  Rather than my asking a lot of questions, take a moment to reflect on what happened, then tell me what you know about the Roux Emissary's murder.  Any detail you can remember could help.  If I'm not sure about something, I'll ask for clarification."

   I got ready to read his thoughts.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:34, Thu 18 Feb 2016.

He thinks for a second, moving his lips.

"I was on the bridge, pulling watchstander duty by myself.  I heard some noise, but it took a bit for the Chief to get back to me, and by then the Captain told me to stay at my post.  Both sounded, ah, wrecked.  It was another fifteen minutes before I was able to leave my post, and find out what happened."

::So, I'm pretty useless as a witness.::

::This is a hard one. My top three candidates from the ability to use the marble are...
1. The Marine girl, but she denied it to me after we found out about the marble.  And she's just not that good a liar.  I can usually smoke them out.
2. Patch....Jack doesn't have the skill, but Patch could build something in an hour, and take it apart in ten minutes and you'd never know.  But, I just don't see him doing it.
3. Leaves me with my whack a doodle theory.  The Emmisarry committed suicide.  Those stalks are fast, and deceptively strong.

I need to get back before Patch and Jack get in another fist fight. Hope this interview is over soon.

"Any other questions?" he gives you a courteous smile, and starts to head twoard the door.

   He might have been done, but I wasn't.  "Just a moment more if you would, Captain.  Tell me about what happened on the Druckner Haven.  I'd like to know how something like that would shape a young spacer's opinion on say... powerful alien species."


Edited for colorization.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:57, Fri 19 Feb 2016.

Edit: Katherine Islands is in a cryobag in medbay; Corporal Luna Mills is recuperating in restraints in medbay; Nigel had his right thigh broken twice by Katherine, and is recuperating under Happy Fun in medbay. Edit ends.

He stops, forces a smile even as his foot taps.
::Drat. I thought I'd given her the slip. I really need to get back to work.::

Then as you ask about the Druckner Haven his face shows a gash of awful pain.Then its gone.
::There are no words, just images of fire exploding inside a starship; of screaming crewmen; of body parts sailing by in zero-g; of an overwhelming sense of helplessness.::

His voice turns monotone.

"The ship was attacked by an unknown alien ship with gravitic fluctuating weaponry while investigating a gravitational anomaly in the Sirken System.  No further contacts with this race are known, either by Humanity, or by Aliens who have semi-friendly or friendly relations with us. A Board of Review ruled that all crew and officers fought with honor and competence to the best of their ability, and awarded them the Distinguished Unit Cross of Valor."
::There are no words in his mind, except for what he says.::
This message was last edited by the player at 15:16, Fri 19 Feb 2016.

   That was... creepy.  Creepy means that the Acting Captain is still on my list.  After all, standing a solo watch means no witnesses to what you do.  Given what I just witnessed, Benson could very well be my killer.  "Thank you Captain.  I'm going over to see if I can talk to Nigel, then I will need to speak with Patch and Jack.  How long do you anticipate needing them on the Bridge?"

He seems to rebuild himself before your eyes, to turn back into the cheerful, and efficient XO, and the crushing weightof the Captaincy hits, and now he looks strained.

"OK. About an hour, or if its this short, I can simply send them out for breaks. At your convenience." He says as he walks toward the door.

You visit the medbay.  Gaulois is politely formal to you, and lets you see his patient alone ashe goes off to make lunch under his chef hat.

Nigel tells you to come in before you open the door.

"Misty, come in. Quiz me on my dastardly deeds done dirt cheap in killing the Emmiss, the Emmiss, the Plant."

You enter, and see that his right leg is covered in some cloth, and immobilied by braces.  He's got a loopy grin on his face.

"It seems I have an exxentric reaction to quote our Chef Dude, to a mix of bone accelerant and pain reliever shared by .000% of the People, by the People, for the People.  Or Doc=Doc deciced I'd be more useful if I were higher than a kite.  Say, what's a kite?"

   I couldn't help but smile.  This was either going to be easy with Nigel giving me everything I need easily or difficult with his thoughts so scrambled by his meds as to be unreadable.  If I had my choice...

   "It's a wind powered flying toy.  Since you already know why I'm here, go ahead and tell me everything you know about the murder."

"Abso-tee-lute-lee." His bright, dark eyes are now almost glowing, and his normal, fast-spoken approach is on fast forward.

"Murder. Query? Is is murder. Murder is defined as strking at the imago dei, the image of God, aka Man.  Is the Roux also imago dei?  Assume, yes, for hypotenuse, hyperspace, hypothetically. Run with it. Run very fast.  The Roux came to us.  We did not know they were there. Even I, champion in four seperate years of All-Navy Challenges did not notice. Hence, they could not be there.  If I do not see you, do you exist?" He closes his eyes. Opens them. "You are still here.  I was asleep. My alarm went off, some factor was out of alignment. Then I noticed the number of crew and such. Much. Dutch. Hutch. Chicken. Dumpling.....ah.....right. Number. It had been 11, now it was 10.  I saw where everyone was.  England was with Hugh. The Chief slept. The XO was uncertain where he was.  Strange. Deranged. Mange. Dog. Cat. Chipmunk.  Jack was back.  The full face of the moon, so beautiful, so gracious, full of power and glory walked among us like the night.  And in the aether, a ghost of sinister intent watched, and then it struck me down, and clouded my mind, but the Doc's kind boon hath liberated my soul so that I may sing...."

He takes a deep breath.

He does seem to be trying to be helpful, and its questionable how well he could lie in this state.  However, he does seem to be definitely not normal.  He probably does not have a lot of friends.

   Why does it always turn out to be the bad option?  This was getting me nowhere in a hurry.  I needed a more direct approach.  "Where were you when the Ambassador was murdered?  Did you kill the Emissary?  Who do you think could have killed the Roux Ambassador?"

"I told you I was in bed. Which was red, instead. With Lead, Uranium, and Gold we are..."

You hammer out the next question stopping his free associating.

"Course not. Why would I kill an alien, I'm an alien. No, I'm a teapot, you're a..."

Rolling your eyes, and clenching your teeth....

"I already told you." He looks puzzled.

   I was done here.  Free association is worth exactly what it claims to be.  I still had a couple of suspects to interview.  "Thank you for your help.  If I need anything else, I'll be back."

   On my way out, I made sure to stop by the Medic to see if he had any chems which functioned like truth serum.  It would be reassuring to be able to verify my suspicions with my form of justice before I allow the Roux to perform their form of justice.

He frowns.

"Ordinarily what you are asking about is strictly forbidden.  Its the same reason only Nigel has Full Sensors, and only limited Hard Record.  24/7 Justice and random truth drugging....well, it was tried a few times in history.  It...worked very poorly."

He sighs.

"Yes, I do. They are not foolproof.  And I would be willing to dose someone provided I was there as a witness, as I was with Nigel.  I don't know what he means by a sinister ghost, but walks in beauty like the night would be Luna Miles.  As to the XO, there is a temporary system lock to avoid recordings."

And you remember your initial impression of the Corporal as she left the wardroom.

You track Patch down.  He's threading new cable down the space between the interior and exterior hull. While laying on his back, and his head up into the space so that you can't see his face.  Despite that, his hands reach blindly and quickly for the needed tool or wiring.

"XO's orders. New wiring. Always something got to be done on these ships.  And if not, I got my hobbies.  Don't like to sit still. Get bored easily.  Why don't you ask me what you want to ask me, like how I brutally murdered the Roux Emmissary?  I mean, I could have done it.  Not that difficult either.  I can think of at least four ways I could have..."  He pauses. "Ahem. Captain says that I talk too much when I'm nervous."

He keeps on working with his hands at the same two and three times normal human speed.

   "Why are you nervous?  You're not the killer, are you?"  I started listening to his surface thoughts even though I didn't think he was the killer.  Still, I had the attention of the ship's gearhead and I wasn't going to waste the opportunity to learn how to misuse their technology.  "Tell me about the four ways and who else could make them happen."

::No way! Drat, need to calm down. Don't want to get dumped back on Driznoir. Breathe man, but keep working, keep working.::

"Ah....no." And then after a pause.  "I grew up on Driznoir in the small city of Nanding.  Before the System War, my grandfather was a prison guard for the system supermax.  Other planets paid us to take their worst.  War comes, political prisoners added.  War ends, some brilliant idealist says 'free them all', and suddenly half our population is hardcore.  Our only business was our prison. Driznoir has little resources.  For a Driznoirian, you have three choices, be a victim, become a thug, or get out by winning some scholarship or something.  I beat the Navy Admissions Board by 54 points above anyone else in history."

::And I'm never going back. The Navy is my home.  OK, telepath? Can you hear me?::

And he shows you images of a hellish childhood, and his first disbelief when he entered  a Navy ship and found unlocked food.  You see him realizing he's not totally trusted, but even in his vision, you see more than he does.  He's the Poor Genius and others in his Navy School go after him, but his innocence and his love of tech gets him thru.  He's got at least a little lack of politics. And then he shows you his worst fear....him waking up trembling in the middle of the night to realize he never left Driznoir, and his life in the Navy was a dream.

"Ok. I've got a half-dozen 'walkies', little drone bots.  Easy enough to rig a hammer to one, and then when the alien walks by, the bot jumps and hooks onto its bottom.  Later...thump goes the hammer, in goes the ball. Make a mark on the floor, pull the handle apart, put it back, leave.

Dart Chief Benson, do the door, take my one off launcher, do the deed, leave.

Release Premitovol gas throughout the ship.  Everyone but me experienceds memory loss, do the deed.

Climb outside the ship, go thru the outer shell, bounce a marble..."

You see in his mind exactly how he would do it.  In the process, pick up +@1 to Mechanics.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:19, Thu 25 Feb 2016.

   I pulled back when I was able.  I'm glad that I was just visiting.  I wouldn't want to live in Patch's mind.  "You don't have anything to worry about.  Someone with your technical expertise and drive can overcome anything.  Thank you for both your technical help on this case and for sharing your story with me.  I might travel to a thousand more places, but you should know that your story will stay with me every place that I go.  I'll let you get back to work now."

   I set off in search of my final person to interview.

You sense Patch is touched, even if unconvinced.

And you're off to find Jack Kenner.  He's in the stutterwarp chamber singing a nursery rhyme to it.  His voice echoes plaintively over the walls, and then steps lively through the amusing bits, and it seems as if the Big Ball of Weird in the center of the room does calm down? regularize?

Then he turns to you, and sighs with satisfaction before taking up a cup to drink.

"I would wish this was for the occasion of me entertaining a charming lady, but regrettably its not.  Ask your questions, investigator."  He sips and waits, a quiet, yet huge presence for the moment as he studies you.

   "Mister Kenner, I apologize in advance for having to bother you."  And, it was true.  I didn't want to bother the guy who, more than anyone else, kept the ship I happened to be riding in functional.  I did have a job to do, though.

   "I'll make this as quick as possible.  I've been questioning everyone aboard about the murder.  Think about this for a moment, then tell me what you know about your relationship with the Roux in particular and aliens in general.  I'd also like to know where you were during the time of the murder."

   I smiled what I hoped was my friendly smile.  "And if you did just happen to kill the Emissary, it would make my job a lot easier if you wouldn't mind confessing."  I got ready to read his surface thoughts.

::I was expecting this.  Hmmm.:: And already there is a distinct difference on many levels between Patch's mind which is highly detailed and fast forward and cuttingly quick in its logic jumps, and the more or less slow and mellow mind which has a tendency to see things in luminescent color fields more than words.

"I find aliens to be fascinating.  Several races place values like Humanity does on sonic manipulation, or song.  Unfortunately, I don't have much time to study them."

::A general sense of xenophilia is what you read.::

"the universe would be a poorer place without them, and the vast mysteries they offer..." He smiles.

"I don't know much about the Roux."
::Not sure I like them.::

"I was sleeping.::
::Well, trying to as I was trying to recreate how I cracked Luna's filewall.::

He chuckles.
"No doubt. Does that work?"
::Heh. I kill myself. Anyways, need more hot cocoa. Gaulois should have my pot ready."

   I smiled.  "Unfortunately, not as often as I'd like.  Thank you for your help.  If I have any other questions, I'll try to not take too much of your time."  I excused myself.  I needed to see the Captain... the real one... about a murderer.

You walk into England's outer suite.  She's in her uniform, but its loosened up, and she's somewhat owlishly observing a glass of wine.  Several nearby bottles and the odor in the air testify to a binge.  A glance at you, and she gets up, walks over to a bit of wall, tabs a button, and takes out a small device which she deliberately tabs to her arm once, then twice, then wit a sigh, one more time.

She puts the wine down, and the device, and then staggers, her face flinching with great pain.  Her whole body shudders, and sweat breaks out on her forehead.  Then she straightens up, wipes her face with a towelette, and goes back to her seat.

Her eyes are sharp again.

"I'm sober now. Why aren't you going to Captain Benson?" A small grin traces her face. "Or have you decided I'm the guilty party?"

   I winced as England sobered up.  That seemed like a bad waste of good wine, but then, maybe it was the other way around.  "I didn't mean to do a buzzkill.  I'm sorry that I have to harsh your mellow."  Still, I was here on business and it was good to know that England was as well.

   "I've conducted my initial interviews.  I have a suspect for a more detailed chemical investigation.  This interview is to be conducted under chemical truth enhancers administered by your Ships Doctor.  I would like you there as a witness."  I know that I don't know just how things work around here, so I took a breath, then continued on anyway.  "Chemical interviews may or may not be admissible under your judicial system, but this is not your investigation, this is a Roux investigation."

   I tried my best rich client greeting smile.  I never had a really rich client, but I had the smile ready just in case.  "Please ask the Acting Captain and the Doctor to meet us in the Medical Bay."

Her eyes shadow at your initial statement, but she says nothing, and puts it aside.

"Generally not, without specific approval, etc., but you're right. This is a Roux investigation.  I'm certain there are enough precedents that a good lawyer team could win your case in Prime's Primary Court if you needed it."

Suspicion then knowledge flowers in her gaze.  She stands and walks out.  A few minutes later, she returns.  "They are awaiting us. The Chief is outside the door."

She takes you to the medbay, past a grim-faced Chief, and into a room with the Gaulois and Benson.  Everyone is staring at you in utter silence.

   Everyone is staring at me, expecting me to say something.  I've seen enough old movies and Colombo episodes to know that this is where The Detective calls everyone together, then goes through a long speech where he finally reveals the name of the guilty party.  I wish that detective was here.  I'd like to know who did it, too.

   I took a deep breath, then let it out.  "We are here because the Roux Emissary was murdered.  My job is to identify the murderer.  I would like the Ship Doctor to administer the appropriate chemical cocktail to the Executive Officer and Acting Captain that will remove mental barriers and allow me to question him to get the truth.  I need to do this to help eliminate him from my suspect pool."

   I turned directly to Benson.  "Refusal to participate in this examination can be considered to be an admission of guilt.  Do you have anything to say before this begins?"

He pauses for a good ten seconds, glances at England, and then Gaulois, and then nods 'no'.

"For the record, no." He sits himself down on the available bed, and lays out his arm for Gaulois to inject him.

"If you think your heartbeat gets excessive, or the furniture starts talking to you, tell  me, Able. I'll pull you out."

"Is that likely?"

"No, but pschyosomatic illnesses and schizophrenic episodes have been reported."

"Wonderful. Do it, doc."

Over the next minute, Gaulois insists on quiet, and he injects five differing substances, some of which he recalibrates based on Benson's physiological responses as recorded by the medbay sensors.

Then he shows you both a piece of paper.

"Only the Detective should talk.  If I cancel this, you will (this is underlined twice) obey my order to cease, or I will stun you."

They wait for you to begin...

Able is looking relaxed, and half-asleep.

   I began to speak to Benson.  I'm trying my skittish client voice.  With any luck, it will come off as warm and comforting.  I'll start with some baseline questions to see how he responds.  I'll try reading his thoughts as I go.  "I'm going to start with some easy questions.  Answer each one truthfully."

   "What is your name?"

   "How old are you?"

   "What is your current rank?"

   "What is your current assignment?"

In reply to Misty (msg # 142):

"Of course, Misty. An Officer is, is Honest, and Brave."
::This is, not good, I guess.::

"Able Montgomery Benson."
::Mom named me after a great uncle, Monty in the first System War.  Heroic. I've not managed to live up to her standards.::

"28"
::hUNH::

"XO....umm, Captain. But that's only temp, sorry England, so technically XO."
His thoughts mimic his words.

"uMMM, wwll to lay on this bunk answering dumb, err sorry, questions."
::Whaaa....i'm on the bunk, does she mean that, or does she mean, my XO, or, hey, I'm the Captain, cool, or...::

   I feel like I'm tap dancing in a minefield.  This whole thing could blow up any second.  That's never stopped me before, though.  "You are doing fine Able.  Let's continue..."

   "Generally, how do you feel about aliens?"

   "How do feel about the Roux?"

   "What happened on the Druckner Haven?"

   "How do you feel about what happened on the Druckner Haven?"

   "How do you feel about powerful alien species?"

   "How do you really feel about the Roux?"

"I...am concerned. They're often helpful, but..."
::Crazy, terrifying, just plain weird, and then out of the blue, nice beyond reason.  Alien. That says it all. Not human. Still part of God's creation, but maybe after He got drunk.::

"I don't like them that much."
::Stiff-necked, ruthless murderous, gotta be careful with them, like they're a bomb.::

He starts weeping.  You see the same images as before, but without inhibition.  You're drenched in sweat as his agony transfers to you.

Gaulois intervenes with a dose of some drug that breaks him free.

"I...wish there wasn't any.  But since there is, we gotta play the hand we're dealt."

::Caution. Concern heading toward paranoia.::

He laughs. Gives you the same rough answer as before with some more detail.

   This was going as well as expected, considering that I was working on the murder of an alien ambassador on a humanoid starship.   Truth be told, I understood the Roux more than the carbon-based life forms where I shared a physical appearance.  I felt like the alien here.  Hmmm...  Maybe that was something I could work with.

   "Where were you when the Roux Emissary was murdered?"

"I was on the bridge."
::I had locked out the recording because I had written up the orders for Patch installing sound tubes.  The Roux have the ability to go thru all our datanets like our security is turned off. I'm pretty sure they can see whatever they want to see as long as we record it on our optical nets. Sound tubes is ancient, pre-Warp tech.....maybe they won'tnotice it, and then I can pull a card out of my sleeve for the Captain.  I just hoped the Roux weren't looking my way when I turned off the record.

The idea of the sound tubes is a hi-tech version of the steamship's metal tubes you shout down.
"Engline room, ahead by half!" and so on.

   "And, of course, there should be official Navy logs of what you did on the Bridge to verify what you were doing while on shift because there wouldn't be any normal reason to lock out the bridge recordings.  Tell me, Benson, can I go to the Bridge and get a record from the data net of everything that happened during your shift on the Bridge?"

   If I can establish that Benson had an alibi, that will go a long way toward clearing him.  If I can get him to admit that he has no alibi, that is an important fact to bring out.  I jotted a quick note for England to find out if there is any record of Patch's order to install speaking tubes.  I added a request for her to find any gaps in the Bridge recording during the then XO's shift, when they occurred, and how long they lasted.

"File Page, #118-A, Written. Paper Record. Its the Fourteenth such Record on this ship."

He tells you where to find the paper records, and tells you how to open the safe holding them.

"Yes, you can."
::And you should.::

England returns with the information.
It turns out Patch was working on this job when you quizzed him.
The time was at the time of the murder, which seems suspicious, and it was for fifteen minutes.  There was only one gap.

To clarify, the fourteen pages of lock outs cover nearly eight years of service.  Evidently, four years ago, the Marcus Caine was transporting a deep cover agent for a week, and he had a number of things to say that were so highly classified that they could not be recorded.  Burn Before Reading type stuff.  There are a few others, but using the lockout seems to require extraordinary circumstances.

   I dash off a quick note for England asking how long it should take to write a request like the one for Patch before going on.

   "Able, I've never stood a Bridge watch.  What happens if you need a snack, to use the head or fresher or restroom, or get a cup of something stimulating to keep alert?  Are you allowed to leave the Bridge for any reason?"

"You can call in another officer to hold watch for five minutes. Gaulois will bring you coffee.  Its actually one of his priority orders which takes precedence over anything but medical care.  Usually tho', he has a heated thermos on deck so he doesn't have to get up out of bed."

He pauses.

"But you can't do that during a lock our of the recording." He laughs.  "Its tradition on the last week of a cook's term to make him get up three or four times every night for food orders.  We also do that sometimes during the first week."

::Not supposed to. I didn't but some people enjoy hazing the noob.::

"Say, what about this idea of mine....the Emm did himself in?"

::I mean, yeah, its crazy, but alien = crazy.  And maybe he was dying and they want an excuse to burn us...::

   "About that lockout...  Fifteen minutes seems like a long time to spend writing a one page work order.  Tell me everything that you did during the recording lock out."

   Benson has a motive, the attack on his old ship.  He had an opportunity during the recording lock out.  With him still proposing that the Roux killed himself, I have to wonder if Benson is actually guilty.  I've still got a few more questions, though.

He winces, and confesses to taking a mood stabilizer for ten minutes.  Its a bit odd for you because you think he's talking about a drug, but he's actually talking about a self-hynosis pattern run on a dedicated personal video screen.

"Its not illegal.
::But no one gives the Captaincy to someone who uses them either.::

"When my stress from the Druckner gets to high, when I can't wall it out, and reconcile it like the minddocs said, when I just have to scream...then I look at the pretty pictures for a while and it goes away."

Gaulois shields one from the Benson's view, and shows you a 'first level'.  Its a pattern of lights on a computer screen, and you can just feel the tension fade before he snaps it off.

Benson looks kinda miserable, like he'd want to be seriously down, but he's on drugs so he's not.
::I so wanted to be a Captain one day. To be in charge of my fate.  Just me versus the Universe.::

   Dang, Benson didn't kill the Emissary either.  "Thank you, Able, for your cooperation.  I'm going to have the Doc bring you back down."  His career advancement was all but over, but he wasn't my killer.

   I changed my focus to begin to listen to what the Doc was thinking.  "And then, Doc, maybe you can convince me that you didn't kill the Emissary."

The Doc, and Chef, Friedrich Gaulois smiles.  He doses Able, and takes him back down to sleep.

England leaves "I need to tell....Nigel, no he's out of it...Chief of security that he is acting captain while Able recovers."

"Come with me." the Chef says.  And he takes you over to the kitchen, and starts making food.
"We all need a way to relax, but I relax with cooking. Egg drop soup? A chocolate milkshake?  Asparagus?" He laughs.
::What role do I play, how do i show her innocence?::

He keeps working as he talks.
"I'm not guilty.  The only thing I did was give Kathering her suppresant and chemical mood stabilizer in her tea.  AND I DOn't, sorry for yelling, think that is something wrong.  Have you considered it might not be us, it might be the Rous?"
::Ok, legally, I'm guilty, but its a law passed by unenlightened cretins which doesn't count.::

   I want to shoot him so badly.  It wouldn't be murder, just recycling waste material.  "Chef, look at this from my perspective.  First, you have demonstrated a dislike, if not hatred, of the Roux, openly insulting an alien species with your choice of vegetables.  Seriously?  Asparagus?  Second, you have also shown that you don't follow any rules that offend your personal sense of right and wrong, no matter what consequences might follow your actions.  Your 'But all I did was excuse' is crap and we both know it.  We both know that what you did put the entire ship at risk and violated countless of your laws and regulations."

   I felt like serving him up to the Roux, tied up on a platter and covered with Big Mac sauce.  "Third, you've already given me your an enlightened man is more superior to the common man speech.  That tells me you would do anything you felt that you needed to do, including assassination.  Fourth, you probably didn't do the job yourself, but I've seen your propensity for slipping chems to unsuspecting people to control their behavior.  Your pixilated patsy wouldn't remember anything, leaving you with an alibi in the clear."


   My hand wasn't far from my Glock as I smiled.  "Chef, you have about a minute to convince me why I shouldn't put you out of my misery by putting an end your smarmy little career."

OOC; time for a GEroll...

First he starts to turn red, then his face hardens into a nose lifted look of disdain.

"Oh, you think I did Nigel's brain fog...that wasn't me."
::Must have picked up malware from the ship system, or just fried his noggin hooking up.  It can happen,::

And by the time you finish, he's looking panicky.
::She's gonna kill me. Me> Me."

He runs for the door yelling for the chief of security.
::I've got that syringe ofsleepyjuice in my sleeve.  The Chief will save me.ll

   I understand why they run.  It's all about getting something, either help or away.  He's hoping for help here.  Otherwise, where is he going to go?  Still, I had to follow him.  Who knows what kind of crazy things he was telling everyone.  I set off cautiously to find the Chef.

You step out slowly to see a frantic chef leave the security chief's office, and head toward the bridge.  He forgot that the Chief is now the Acting Captain.

The Bridge door opens, closes as you walk toward it.

You hear a sound vaguely like a freight train.

The door opens.

You hear a call from inside.

"Come in, detective.  Make sure I can see your hands." Its the chief.

   I called out.  "I'll be happy to do just that, as soon as you get the sleepyjuice syringe the Doc keeps in his sleeve for drugging people he doesn't like.  And since I found out that he had been illegally dosing a class three mentalist to allow her to circumvent safety protocols because he thinks he's smarter than your entire governing body, I'm reasonably sure that he doesn't like me."

In reply to Misty (msg # 160):

"Doc's unconscious and velcroed to a chair.  I gave him a dose of air pressure, and the poor guy fainted right out.  You must have scared him badly.  He was yelling that you were about to murder him.  And when he wouldn't calm down, I calmed him down."

There is a flat, menacing calm in the Chief's voice.  Its the voice of a person who is considering whether they are going to have to take lethal measures.  You recognize it because you've had that exact same tone before.

   I walked into the room smiling, my hands far enough away from my tools to be nonthreatening.  "I gave Doc four reasons why I thought he could be the murderer, then I gave him a minute to convince me that he wasn't.  That's when he took off screaming."  I shrugged.  "Go figure.  Personally, I don't think that Doc has the stones to do that kind of job himself.  I wanted him to prove or disprove my accusations.  I guess he did that all right."

He puts his air pressure box gun down on the desk next to him.

"I don't think he does either.  I've been trying to follow along on your investigation."

He pauses.

"So far you've hit pretty much everyone.  The Roux, and each of us you seem to have cleared off your chart....which leaves you..."

He shakes his head.

"Not willing to invoke time travel yet.  So what do we know?
1. A generic steel ball, of human design, hit the cooler pan on the Emmissary.  Over time, he baked.
2. This needed a calculating mind, with as you say, enough stones.
3. It also needed a lot of physical power.  I'm the only one on the ship strong enough to do it, by hand.  Patch could make a device.  We already ruled out the air pressure box guns. The Roux are strong enough.  So is the Cyborg Marine, if she is cyborged.  Also, evidently Katherine could have done it with TK.
4.  Out of Nigel's babbling you got the bit where 'she walks in beauty like the night' Cyborg Marine Luna Miles, and its a good description of her.  Now you might think that there is no way she could have done it.....but...I was asleep.  Captain England covered for me at my urgent request.  I had went over to the Islands room to counsel them earlier, that their antics were disrupting the crew.  Saw a cup of tea, thought it was for me."

"5. But how did Cyborg Marine get unlocked?  Patch says it is impossible, and I'm aware he's a genius.  If he says it can't be done, then it can't.  But it was done.

6. We also know that Nigel is suffering some sort of brain fog, and he talked of a malignant ghost."

   As I thought about it, I never really cleared the Supply Officer from my suspect list.  She attacked me right about the time I was going to ask her about the murder.  "I need to speak with your unlocked Marine again.  We never finished our last question session and there are a few things I still need to know."

He nods, and has you lead the way to the medbay.  You're aware that he takes the box gun with him.

Inside the medbay, he fumbles around a bit, and carefully follows directions to wake Cpl. Luna Mills back up.

Her eyes open, and hope and beauty gives way to sadness in her eyes, and then to puzzlement as she sees you.

   Just maybe, there was a little satisfaction involved here.  Miles took her best cheap shot at me and still lost.  All right, there was a lot of satisfaction here.  And although being satisfied was a really good feeling, what I still needed was answers.  I focused on trying to read her thoughts.  I was reasonably sure she wasn't going to freely volunteer anything verbally.

   "Corporal Miles, I was glad to learn how resilient you are.  You weren't quite finished answering questions.  I know that you are still recovering from your last bout of stupidity, so I'll try to keep this short.  Some very good circumstantial evidence points to you as being the Emissary's murderer.  Let's start with the big question.  Did you damage the Emissary's cooling unit and cause him to die?"

"NO."
:: No, I mean, really.  I was in the hall that night. Don't remember how I got there.::

 :: Just sleepwalking.:: She argues back to herself.  Her mind seems a bit different than others, in that with her, she has several voices in her head that argue with each other.

A third drier voice says.  ::Cyborg Marine candidates with a propensity for sleep disorders are not allowed to complete the program.::

::So I developed them after I got unborged. So what?::

::Maybe it was something Kenner did to me. He kept hinting he'd cracked the coding.::

::Anyroad, not going to tell this snot-nosed detective anything.::

"Are we done, now?" She asks levelly.

   Well, I found the murder weapon.  And it looks as if I'm closing in on the person who pulled the trigger.  I sighed.  "Corporal, since you're obviously not going to talk to me, you're wasting both of our time.  Trust me, Marine.  We're not done, yet."

   I turned to the Security Chief as I kept an eye on Miles.  I tend to have trust issues with people who try to kill me.  I'm funny that way, but it's not a character flaw that I'm working to change.  "Put her back under.  She isn't going to help us."

   I waited until Miles was put back away.  "Chief, I need a followup interview with Kenner.  I'd like you to be there for it.  I've got a feeling that I'm getting close to some answers."

::Should say 'Boo' just to freak her out. Yum, pies...:: And as she goes under her mind shifts to a dreamscape of doing a marathon run while drill instructors shoot cherry pies at her.  You withdraw.

The Security Chief nods, and brings Kenner to your partially wrecked day office.  He has Kenner sit, which makes him loom less, and 'just casually' he leans against the wall near Kenner.

   "Mr. Kenner, I just have a few follow up questions.  This shouldn't take very long."  At least that is what I hoped.  I was starting to run out of crew members.  "I would like some background on the kind of engineering training you have received."  By listening to both what he says and doesn't say, I'm really hoping to hear some useful answers.

In reply to Misty (msg # 170):

He nods smiling.

"At age fourteen, I was a soloist in a children's orchestra, and a recruiter from the Navy pointed out to me the possibilities.  So, I was already doing pretty well in school, but I hit the books extra hard on anything related to engineering.::
::Had to pass up on some fun, but good thing I work pretty fast, and efficiently so i was able to get some fun in there too.::

His mind is again colors.  And while he and Miles express themselves very differently, you'd say the Ship's Engineer is only a little brighter than the Ship's Supply Officer/retired Marine.  Both are smart, but not geniuses.

"I passed the Boards."
::Almost had to take them again, but when I said I wanted Stutterwarp, they made the problems go away.::

"I sang in the All-Navy Chorus.  Sadly, not good enough to solo, but you should hear Lew McReady...the man will bring tears to your eyes...he was a friend of mine, and the lead soloist.  Helped me improve a good bit.  I passed the course with a solid B plus. Enough to get En Honoriam added to my graduation.::
::Took two years of Intensives on Computer Programming, and a Double Stack of Intensives on Stutterfield Topology.  My stars, I still have nightmares about waking up in my underwear in class, and not remembering to study for a quiz.::

But his nightmares seem an altogether lighter thing than Patches' bone deep terrors.

"Was posted six months to a system tub, the good old Mickey Jenkins, and then got my first outsystem run on Merriweather Lewis, a first generation explorer.  One term there as an assistant, then here, on a third generation explorer for the last eight years.'

   I was making progress.  Kenner had the know how to be able to reactivate a shut down bionic system.  Now all I needed was the why...

   "It must be quite an accomplishment to be able to do things few others can even comprehend."  I gave him a moment to think about that, then continued.  "But I do have other questions.  How do you feel about the Roux?  Did you have any reason to want their Emissary dead?"

He smiles.

"Well, thanks, but there are quite a few engineers..."
::Not that many, maybe a thousand people in the Union can do what I do...why is she buttering me up....oh!....she likes me....course how many of them could have broken the codes on the Marines borging....hah, they say its super-tough....its easy.  I did it with hardly trying.::

He gives you his best charming smile.  Its relaxed and cheerful.

"I'm worried about them.  I know what you're doing and I hate it, but its gotta be done.  We can't sacrifice a human colony full of innocents."
::Why did someone do this? I can't see the point?:
"No, I wish he were still alive."
::And I wish the universe was not so full of bloodthirsty aliens, and I wish that I got ice cream for breakfast instead of Doc making me eat healthy stuff.::

   So...  Kenner unlocks the Supply Officer's hardware.  Miles sleepwalks while borged up and kills the Roux?  My head was starting to hurt.  Every time I seem to be winning this rat race, somebody changes the track on me.  Still, I now have one more piece of the puzzle than I had before.

   "Thank you, Mister Kenner.  I just have one follow up question.  Did you kill the Roux or knowingly set into motion a chain of events that resulted in the Emissary's death?"

"NO!"
His mental denial is not verbal, but emotional and even stronger.

   I was done here.  Kenner gave me enough to work with, even if he doesn't realize it yet.  "Thank you, Mister Kenner, for your cooperation.  I've taken up enough of your time."

   I waited until the drive engineer left before I spoke.  "Chief, I need to speak to the Roux Captain and England.  I'd like you to be there, too.  Please, ask them to join me in my office."  Then I headed out for my temporary office.

The Chief gives you a serious look, and then nods.

A few minutes later, England joins you, and in seven more minutes, Eight Stalk joins you.  The Chief is doing his best to be part of the wall, and as always, England with her quietness seems to take up less space than she does.

"You asked to meet us, Detective?" Eight Stalk flutes, his eight arms moving in complicated patterns.

   The Private Detective's Handbook has a chapter on revealing the identity of the subject to the Authorities.  I don't think it counts this time, since I am the Authorities.  Right now I'd feel a lot more confident with a trench coat and a fedora.  "Eight-Stalk, how do people on your world cope with accidents?  Do you dig until you find someone who is technically responsible, even if that being is actually not morally responsible?  Or, do you just call it some form of bad luck and let it go?"

"We are an ancient race, of vast domains, and our technicians control extraordinary powers.  We dig.  It would be irresosponsible to do otherwise. And if it is bad luck, we make sure it does not happen again."  His stalks rustle in a sinuous form.

The Chief raises an eyebrow. England just listens politely without a change.

   I took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.  "Supply Officer Miles was a cyborged Marine.  When she retired, her bionics were shut off.  She developed an abnormality called sleepwalking after she retired.  There's a fancier term for it, but I don't remember what it is.  The person moves around in a state of low consciousness performing tasks that they don't remember when they wake.  The sleepwalker can do complex things while asleep, even violent and dangerous ones."

   I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, then continued.  "Drive Engineer Kenner is a very smart man.  He has taken very intense training in computers and electronics to become a drive engineer.  He understands systems like few of us can.  He unlocked Miles bionic hardware because he thought it would be a challenge."

   "Miles didn't know Kenner was going to unlock her hardware, although she suspected it after the fact.  Kenner didn't know about the sleepwalking problem that Miles had developed.  Miles killed the Emissary, but she has no knowledge of the event due to her problem.  Miles would not have been able to do what she did had Kenner left her bionics untouched.  The Emissary's death is tragic, but it is also accidental.  No one planned to kill Ten Stalk.  It just happened.  That is my official report."

   I have a feeling that this is probably not going to end well.  I don't understand the Roux well enough to predict anything for sure.  I'm just trying to get as few people killed as possible.

There follows some questions on the nature of the ailment, and on human 'states of mind', and the Captain offers to send the information to the Roux ship.  Eight Stalk says that is unneccessary as he has access to the systems on Marcus Caine.  With a word, the data is transferred.  Its another intimidating display of Roux power.

At the end of two hours of close questioning, Eight Stalk describes himself satisfied with your conclusion.

"Ordinarily we would kill the responsible party.  However, we respect the Detective's point.  Miles and Kenner are to be denied leaving their home solar system for the duration of their lives as Inadvertent Threats to Peace." Eight Stalk says.

   I'm exhausted.  The two hours spent under questioning have left me mentally as well as physically drained.  Still, I wasn't too tired to take care the important stuff.  "Eight Stalk, now about my fee..."

"We agreed to barter for your services.  The People of the Winds are not ungenerous.  Make a suggestion, and we will listen to it with interest."

Chief DuBois and England leave you to your dealmaking.

   My mind went blank.  I don't know what the People of the Winds use for money.  I don't know how much the Roux pay for various goods and services.  I have no idea what time units they use to measure rates of exchange.  If I only had some item to use for a cross cultural comparison, like Big Macs.  But... just... maybe...

   "Interface, this is user designated Misty the Gray.  Query begins.  What would be the appropriate quantity of trade exchange units for the services of an Emissary of the People of the Winds for a seven day and night cycle period of time?  Query ends."

"That would One Interest Point.  It could also be a rather large supply of commodity generic goods.  Unfortunately such goods would not be designed to be compatible with Humanity although a number of items and raw materials are non-specific to species.  As an example, both species use blankets."

The interface goes on to explain to some limited degree a post-scarcity economy.  Its what happens when you have asteroid mining and robot factories that can build other robot factories and robot miners to go find asteroids.  The poorest Roux and there are tens of billions of them can have small mansions on multiple planets.  But customization, and specific goals is what costs more effort, and thats where IP come in.  IP is basically what Roux pay each other to work.

And 1 IP/wk. is a quite good wage. The most visionary Roux get around 10-12 IP/day.  The poorest about 5 IP/month.

Second post....

Roux economics and Big Macs....

You have two choices.
1. A year's supply of fresh, hot Big Macs prepared by robots. Each Big Mac costs. .01 cent.
2. The perfect bacon, blue cheese, hand made bread roll Kobe beef burger for Misty prepared by Emeril with Misty as a judge on the Iron Chef show.

   One Interest Point would be a very good payday for a gumshoe like me.  The Roux would have to agree to it, though.  "Eight Stalk, as a verser, I cannot carry all that much with me when I leave a place behind.  I need small, valuable goods to use as trading material.  Would it be possible to get an Interest Point, or whatever percentage of one that you deem appropriate, worth of diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and other cut gemstones as my fee?"  I wasn't out of gems yet, but since I was going to be doing this for basically ever, resupplying when I can is a good thing.

"That would be easily done."

He leaves, and later an object is sent from his ship.  Its a small locked, genetically, chest.  Inside are four compartments, each holding a pound of gemstones: diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires.

The Xenon Isotope drops away from you at an alarming rate of speed, and is soon invisible in the distance.

"Time to go home, face the music." the XO says.  "Engage the Stutterwarp, Mr. Kenner."

The universe hiccups.

And suddenly you're no longer in the bridge,  but in the cafe.

And then you're in the stutterwarp hall, and Kenner looks at you horrified.

"You're not synchronized to the..."

And then you're in space.  And you see the Marcus Caine dissappear and reappear over and over, faster and faster, and maybe its turning about, but...

======================

New world....

   The stars are...  so...  beauti...