LtCmdr Jovenan – Oh good, the cleaner’s here, we don’t have to investigate this dirty crime scene
Jovenan
((Office Building, Afalqi Project Launch Complex, Meranuge IV))
One of the most difficult parts of being in Starfleet was navigating the myriads of cultures one encountered. They all had their own traditions, taboos, ways of thinking and expectations. It was a miracle that they got something as simple as a greeting without causing confusion or discomfort. Thousands of inhabited planets, homeworlds with hundreds or thousands of distinct national or regional cultures. And then there were the subcultures and professional microcosms with their own jargons and cants and all the little in-group habits that confused even the people that were nominally from the same culture. The Da’al Jovenan had met before had been in most parts been Tecran disaster survivors – the experience gave her little to go for when trying to get a response from a person from a different part of the planet, different social circumstances, different context. She couldn’t even begin to decipher what the receptionist’s smile meant.
Ce’Mond: His office is on the third floor, corridor 7a, room 31. You can use either the lift marked with dark blue or the staircase South-4.
Jovenan: Thank you. Uh, have a nice day.
The receptionist permitted the entry – finally – and they ventured deeper into the office building. The wide and open lobby changed to a set of corridors, all lit brightly but empty of people. It gave the building an unnerving aura, although Jovenan understood it perfectly: there was hardly a reason to make everyone come back to work after the subject of their jobs, the ship, had suddenly vanished and their boss and colleagues were suspected of the hijacking. Once they were out of the receptionist’s earshot, the team could speak to one another again.
Jaran: That was a robot or a hologram or something, right? Not a particularly good one, either?
Bergmen: No, Doctor. Just someone who truly enjoyed their slice of the world to the fullest…
Storm: Was the populace enamored with outsiders the last time you were here, Commander? It could be she just realized she had met their local version of a celebrity.
Jovenan inhaled and raised her eyebrows a little. They were all from different cultures, and they all seemed to interpret the receptionist’s behaviour differently, be it arrogant, starstruck, suspicious or just a bit dim. Their own cultural richness was fascinating to see in action, but for the purpose of their investigation, she could see it being both their strength and weakness. They’d be able to avoid one of the most detrimental pitfalls of any individual investigator, that of seeing everything from one viewpoint alone… but they might not still land the interpretation the Da’al would make.
Jovenan: I wouldn’t read too much into that interaction. The Da’al politics are very factional, and our previous involvements with them are probably controversial among some people. Who knows what she’s thinking of us, personally. ::pause:: Third floor, corridor 7a, room 31. Let’s get going so we can start this investigation.
Storm: I wonder if it was this quiet before the heist, or if people didn’t come into work today either because they were a part of the plot or because they were afraid of being associated with the plot.
There: that exact benefit of cultural variety in action. Jovenan had only thought the workers had been given a day off, she hadn’t even considered the possibility that people were actively and voluntarily avoiding coming here. She smiled as they found the array of lifts. This was going to go fine.
Jaran: The dark blue, right?
Bergmen: But which dark blue, Doctor? Starfleet Blue? Deep Blue? Cobalt denim blue?
Oh no, not the cultural differences stopping the investigation before they even made it to the scene.
Storm: Oh look! Only one shade of blue.
Lt Storm shot Lt Bergmen a smirk when she gestured towards the sole lift that could reasonably match the description they were given. A crisis averted.
Storm: Too bad that means we lose our alibi if we turn up in the wrong place.
They entered the lift, luckily not too much different from the ship’s turbolifts in terms of size, large enough for them all to ride it comfortably. The doors, however, remained open and the car remained immobile. Jovenan looked around, wondering how to get it to start.
Jovenan: Is this voice activated, or… Oh, there are buttons there, could you press them?
The Doctor called for the third floor – which was counted from the bottom up, unlike on a ship, but hopefully they wouldn’t need to mind if the first floor was the ground floor or the one above it – and the lift started moving. After a brief ride, the doors opened again and they left for yet another brightly-lit corridor with seemingly no people around.
Jaran: Ok, we need to find corridor.. 7? And something after that. Why does such a high ranking person have such a hard office to find?!
Bergmen: Because if it were easy, floor map sign manufacturers would be out of a job.
Lt Bergmen pointed out a map on the wall, and Jovenan looked up to it. At least there was a map.
Storm: It looks like this floor has corridors seven, eight, and nine.
While Lt Storm ran her finger along the blank areas of the map outlined by the lines, Jovenan couldn’t help wondering what had led to such an inefficient design of the building. She would have thought the entire complex was constructed explicitly for the use of the Afalqi project, so it wasn’t all that likely they had expanded the building too many times in its service. The Lieutenant tapped the map.
Storm: We’re currently at the junction of eight and nine. We go down here. ::Gesturing to the left:: And take a right.
Jovenan: I didn’t expect this to be the hardest part of the mission.
They got moving, and found the correct door. It happened surprisingly easily once they had found it on the map, too. It might have looked complicated, and the system of colour-coded lifts and numbered corridors had seemed needlessly complicated, it must have served a purpose for the people who worked there. Perhaps it was intuitive to them. Regardless, they reached a door with Chief Engineer Havun’s name written on it. For a moment, Jovenan regretted not requesting a key or other access code, but it seemed one wasn’t needed; the door opened without resistance.
Storm: How do they expect to keep things secure when they don’t even lock the door?
Inside, the office was… well, it was a mess. Boxes, mechanical parts and local equivalents for PADDs lined up the walls and most surfaces in the room, haphazard stacks in constant danger of collapse. Jovenan would have thought this was a storage room or a poorly maintained workshop had there not been Mr Havun’s name on the door. She doubted Captain MacKenzie would ever allow any part of the Artemis to look like this.
There was a rustle among the stacks. A figure, a Da’al in practical uniform, appeared briefly before escaping further back into the office, surprise flashing on her face. Had they just caught someone tampering with the evidence?
Jaran: It's ok! We're not going to hurt you!
Lt Bergmen let his phaser go before Jovenan had even realised that they might need those. Their tactical officer, however, didn’t remove her hand from the weapon and extended her arm towards the woman instead. Being ready for confrontation was wise, but to Jovenan, she looked more terrified of them than they were of her. Such situations required calm but careful touch.
Jovenan: That’s right. We’re here just to investigate.
An object flew across the room from where the woman – a cleaner or a maintenance worker, perhaps – stood. It hit no one. Instead, they were hit by a desperate shriek.
Ta’Mora: No! You will not take me to Sey’nadara!
Bergmen: We are not here for you, nor wanna to take you … whatever that place or person is.
At this point, even Lt Storm was acknowledging that the woman was likely not a threat to them and let go off her phaser.
Storm: Let’s calm down. We’re not here to hurt you. We’re off-worlders here to help.
Outlining their extraterrestrial nature was a risky tactic. The Da’al had had contacts with the off-worlders for a long while now, but they had remained somewhat isolated, so most of them didn’t have many contacts with outsiders. Jovenan didn’t know who the cleaner had expected them to be, but finding yourself surrounded by aliens was probably not a bit less scary.
Jaran: Response
Ta’Mora: You’re not Quwa-Am?
Lt Bergmen looked at Jovenan for support, but all she could do was shrug. Quwa-Am didn’t sound like anything she had encountered while on Meranuge before. If she had to guess, she would have thought it was a police or intelligence service, and the woman was afraid of being taken to the prison.
Bergmen: We are from Starfleet. Eh, you know, the United Federation of Planets?
Storm: We don’t know who or what Quwa-Am is.
Jovenan: That’s right. We’re here just to help. ::smiles:: I was at Tecra three years ago. Maybe you’ve heard of it?
Jaran: Response
Lt Storm made sure that the woman saw that they didn’t have weapons in their hands.
Storm: What’s your name?
The woman glanced at each of them. Jovenan copied the tactical officer, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. She hoped that a smile – and being so much shorter than her – helped her. The woman didn’t let go off the item they were grasping, but she wasn’t flinging it at them either. Good, any progress is good.
Ta’Mora: I’m Ta’Mora.
Jovenan: Hello, Ta’Mora. I’m Jovenan. I’m a scientist.
Jaran/Bergmen: Response
Storm: And I’m Alex. Can you tell us who or what this Quwa-Am is?
Ta’Mora: You … really don’t know?
That was spectacularly useless answer. The woman was definitely not someone who interacted with offworlders often, if ever. Jovenan began to wonder if they were wasting too much time on her – if she hadn’t been in the scene of their investigation, Jovenan wouldn’t have paid much attention to her presence. But since she was here, they might as well try and keep talking with her for a while longer.
Jovenan: No, we don’t. We only arrived to this planet today. I’ve visited here once before, but only briefly. We’re here to help.
Jaran/Bergmen/Ta’Mora: Response
Storm: What is it that you have there?
Ta’Mora: You can’t have it!
The woman tightened her grip of the object she was holding. Jovenan sighed. They had been so close to a breakthrough. Now more than ever she was thinking they were wasting their time. Whatever it was, the probability of it being relevant to their investigation was miniscule at this point. Either the woman was just stealing – just stealing, as ridiculous that sounded to her Edo mind – or was trying to hide her involvement with Mr Havun. A professional ship-stealer – pirate, they called them – didn’t act like this.
Jovenan: Lieutenant, Doctor, a word. ::steps aside, whispers:: I don’t think this is going anywhere, do you?
Jaran/Bergmen/Storm: Response
She glanced at the woman, still grasping the object and looking at them with suspicion, fear and confusion.
Jovenan: Right. Let’s not waste much more time. Lieutenants, could you try to access Mister Havun’s communications, logs, diaries, any such documents? Check everything, try to restore deleted files, break through secured folders, so on. Remember our priorities. The Doctor and I will talk with Ms Ta’Mora here, see if she knows anything. At least what Mister Havun is like as a person, they were probably colleagues. We’ll join you when we oO get rid of her Oo have made sure she’s not hiding anything. Got it?
Jaran/Bergmen/Storm: Response
Jovenan: Good. Let’s go.
Jaran/Bergmen/Storm: Response
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Lieutenant Commander Jovenan
Chief Science Officer
USS Artemis-A
E239911J11