Vice Admiral Quinn Reynolds - In Blood and Benamite (Part I)
Quinn Reynolds
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair veHrom’nagh, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where uncivil blood makes dishonor the scheme.
From forth the orbit docks of these two foes
A ship of crystal laden meets ill fate,
While murder foul brings dishonor afront
And strange new drugs make hands of all unclean.
((Upper vIq'mItlh City, veHrom’nagh))
Rain hissed as it struck the pavement, falling in unrelenting sheets of grey that bit at exposed skin. The Starfleet team stood in the centre of a large plaza bathed in blood red and amber, the lighting working overtime in the city’s perpetual gloom. A bulky ground cruiser sat nearby, emblazoned with the crest of the Great House vItoS’ security force, engine humming, lights flashing. Klingon officers stood beside it, broad like oaks in their armour-uniforms, lips curled in displeasure at the presence of the Starfleet officers, d'k tahg prominent at their hips.
As they approached, Quinn checked the fastening of her uniform jacket and found it just as tightly closed as before. Fat droplets of rain clung to the leatherette material, and the damp plastered strands of mousey hair to her skin. She glanced up, curious to see if she could see the thick band of the orbital ring above them. Only moody black clouds met her gaze, thunder rumbling through, ready to dump even more rainfall on the city below.
She turned her gaze back to the reason they were there. Sprawled face down in the centre of the plaza was a man in his prime, tall and brawny as so many Klingons were. He was also absent any signs of life, and evidently had been for a little while now.
Reynolds: This unfortunate soul was Pak'argh of the Great House vItoS, and the nephew of Governor Marg. We’re here to find out who killed him.
Taelon / Sevo: Response
It was a strange situation, certainly. A Starfleet crew tasked by a Klingon governor to investigate misdeeds and mysteries on a Klingon planet. But there was ample evidence showing Klingons were just as capable of Byzantine politics as anyone else, and Quinn knew from experience that Marg was as crafty as they came. This was a game of three-dimensional chess, and she wasn’t yet sure if her crew were mixed in with Marg’s pieces, or on the opposing side.
Reynolds: Governor Marg and I... have a history. ::A deep frown coursed across her brow, and she clearly had no interest in explaining further.:: This is a win-win for him. He gets an investigation independent of the competing Klingon interests on the planet, and a scapegoat if anything goes wrong.
Taelon / Sevo: Response
Rain had soaked Pak'argh’s extravagant but rugged clothing through and through, washing violet blood between the paving slabs toward the drains. She could see no attempt to preserve forensic evidence. The question was whether the failure came from a Klingon disinterest in criminalistics, or deliberate negligence courtesy of the planet’s chaotic politics.
Reynolds: The assumption is that it’s a murder. All his weapons are still in their sheaths and holsters. ::She considered that statement.:: Or someone put them back.
Taelon / Sevo: Response
She stepped a touch closer, avoiding the rain-diluted blood running between the paving slabs. Hunkering down next to the body, she reached for her tricorder. Fat drops of rain splattered against the screen as the little device worked, and the navigation lights of airborne cruisers washed over them with the flow of traffic above.
Reynolds: These wounds could go either way, on first inspection. They’re unusual for a personal combat, but we’re not talking about a knife between the shoulder blades, either. We’ll beam him to sickbay for a proper autopsy once we’re done here.
Taelon / Sevo: Response
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
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