Cavan/Arvelion: "The Fever" Part 3
chaze...@aol.com
“The Fever” Part Three
Lt. Cmdr. Elinor Cavan, M.D.
Chief Medical Officer
U.S.S. Galaxy
Col. For’kel Suum-Arvelion, SFMC
Commanding Officer
188TH Starfleet Marines Detachment- “The Furies”
==========================================
Poor Stolnic looked exceptionally relieved to be rid of Ellie when she said she could find her way to the Belkovs if she had a map; which he provided with frantic haste.
Making her way up the gravel path to the sturdy well kept home, made from the same local stone as the granary, Ellie marveled at the wealth differentials between the Belkovs and the rest of the colony. Considering there was not a trade of credits in this particular locale, it seemed that the trade of abundance of commerce had done the Belkovs well in their few generations. Their home was a far cry from the pre-fab homes that had been tossed up in the inner circle of Bran, or even the later builds, this more of an ornate opulent build that declared a quiet wealth.
Ellie opted to use her own knuckles, instead of the quaint wrought brass knocker in the shape of a Hoopoe sleeping on its own tail in a figure eight. “That is not an omen at all,” she murmured to herself.
The woman who answered was in her late fifties, with a stern, weathered face and eyes that held a deep, weary grief. “Can I help you?”
“I am Doctor Elinor fa Cavan with the Starfleet Forensics Special Taskforce, just here to investigate the incident at the granary,” Ellie said without a hint of judgement in her voice.
“They have already spoken with Raddy about all that nonsense, but if you must,” the woman stepped aside to show Ellie in. “I am Missus Szimonetta, the housekeeper for the Belkovs.”
The interior was spotless with that nouveau riche decor one would expect in a Tudor manor type house in mid century in Wales. Not on some rock in the Orlov system hundreds of years later. Everything had a sheen and polish that proved that Szimonetta took her job seriously. Nary a fingerprint was found on a single surface. Ellie would be hard pressed to find a single spec of dust anywhere.
“The family is not receiving visitors,” the housekeeper stated, clasping her fingers. “Their grief is, and shall remain, a private affair.”
“I understand,” Ellie said, taking the room in and turning on her heel to face the housekeeper once again. “And I respect that. But my questions are about the granary itself, its maintenance, its access. The kind of details a housekeeper for a prominent family might be more aware of than the family itself.”
Mrs. Szimonetta’s eyes narrowed as she accessed Ellie. Flattery was subtle, and good flattery was worth its weight in latinum.
“It seems,” Ellie did not smile or let any of that go to her head. Keeping everything professional. “The Constable’s report says the building was sealed. But in an old structure like that, there are always ways in. A loose board, a forgotten cellar entrance. Young people often find these things.”
“Young people are foolish and think the old buildings are good places for their games,” the housekeeper could not seem to veil the slightest hint of her annoyance.
“Were they playing games?” Ellie prodded without being overly eager.
“That Kadicu boy. The one who died with the off-worlder,” the old woman did not even feign to hide her disgust. Clearly there was an internal hierarchy of planet-born that Ellie was just finding out about. “He was the worst. He found a loose board on the east side… by the nettle patch. He told others. I informed Master Belkov of it last season that it needed immediate repair—” the woman shrugged. “He told me it was not of priority.”
There it was. It was a local haunt. Not just for two bawdy teens making a night of it. The granary was a known hook up point and Kadiscu had merely opened the door.
“This is very helpful Missus Szimonetta,” Ellie thanked the housekeeper. Yet, she had to press her luck for one last question. “Have you seen anything else of note… a large animal or anything off?”
The housekeeper gave Ellie an appraising glance. Her stern facade failed, seemingly being replaced by superstitious dread. “I know this… The Strigoi… the miners are greedy and dig too deep, they awoke a hunger and keep diving back,” she pointed a crooked finger, as if to ward off the words coming from her own lips. “It is a curse they brought back from those mines. You can look at your data, but I know what I know.”
The woman gave Ellie a look that could melt a steel beam. This was her truth and moreover, it was also her way of dismissing her as a guest in the Belkov household.
“Thank you Missus Szimonetta and I appreciate your candor and hospitality.”
*****
Two days after Ellie’s arrival…
The Starhawk Hopper made a textbook planetary fall, dropping straight down onto the shuttle pad fast, its retros only firing in the last bit of time to assure a soft enough landing that everyone inside would be able to depart in fighting condition. Not a full second later the rear ramp was down and a section of Starfleet Marines poured out. Like clockwork, Fork had one squad in the section secure the landing site and deployed the second to secure the key parts of the shuttle pad, a second hopper dropping down a mere second later to deploy the rest of the platoon.
It was more for practice than need. This wasn’t hostile territory, and nobody was shooting at them. In fact the colony was nothing if not cooperative. When the colony’s leadership transported in, Fork made his way over and offered his hand. “Colonel Arvelion, pleased to meet you.”
“Governor Kasic.” An old Terran man smiled so brightly that it seemed to take 10 years off as he softly shook the Marine’s hand. “We’re happy to have you here, Colonel. To my right is Mayor Vladimir Alacovu, the town’s executive, and Constable Stolnic, our chief law enforcement officer.”
“Gentlemen.” Fork shook each of their hands in turn. “Let me break the ice, my orders are to evacuate some Federation and Starfleet personnel, and then enforce a quarantine…”
The Mayor’s eyes bulged. “Wait, a quara what?! You can’t be serious?!”
The Stagnorian watched the Mayor impassively. “Those are my orders sir, at least until Starfleet countermands them. The goal is to keep whatever is on this planet…”
“I know what a quarantine is!” the Mayor sighed. “But you need to understand Colonel, this colony operates on razor thin margins wholly dependant on our ability to export the ores and minerals we excavate here; selenium, dilithium, titanium, rhodium, iridium, osmium… and a dozen others that the replicated versions of aren’t high enough quality for industrial purposes.” Little did the Mayor realize his pleas were falling upon ears ignorant of economics. “Eighty percent of our people work in mining and refinement, if the freighters don’t take our goods then they’re out of their jobs!”
“I sympathize.” Fork lied, exercising the extent of his ‘diplomatic’ skills. Those were probably the most painful courses the Corps made its officers go through… who the hell cared about jobs when lives were on the line? But at either rate, he gave the typical soldier’s response. “But I have my orders. I’ll be sure to pass on your concerns through the chain of command, and you can of course appeal to the Federation Council or Starfleet Command directly, but until my orders are changed I will comply with them.”
He’d hoped that the flat statement tantamount to ‘you need to speak to the manager’ would have been sufficient, but naturally it wasn’t. “You’re not listening Colonel, we ‘need’ those freighter stops.”
“I assure you I’ve heard everything you’ve said, sir.” Discipline meant Fork managed to avoid rolling his eyes, but he totally would have if he wasn’t on the clock. “We’ll do everything we can to try and make the next trip, but Starfleet is the final say. If you’d like to contact Command…”
“That won’t be necessary.” The Mayor spit back, exasperation written across every feature as he stormed off unceremoniously. “They won’t think for themselves either.”
The Stagnorian let it go, while the Governor offered an apologetic look. “For what it’s worth, Colonel, from what I’ve been told, people are glad you are here. They feel safer.”
“And the Constabulary is definitely happy to have you here, Colonel.” Stolnic tipped the rim of his hat. “We’ve been running extended shifts since the first death. Anything that helps solve this case, even if it’s just some extra eyes and a feeling of safety, is immensely helpful.”
Fork took the proffered hand for a shake. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, mister Stolnic. Our orders are fairly limited in scope, but if there is anything we can do to help, let me know.”
“Well. since you asked…” Stolnic took off his hat to make his request. “I’ve been watching over Starfleet’s investigator personally since she arrived. If I could get some relief…”
“Not a problem, I’ll handle it.” The Colonel assured. In fairness, you would think Starfleet would see to the security of its own people, especially if local security was overwhelmed. “Where’s the investigator?”
“I left Doctor Cavan back at the medical center with one of my deputies…” instinctively the middle aged man thrust his dumb over his shoulder in the general direction. “He’s also going on hour twelve of his shift…”
“Doctor Cavan?” Fork smirked.
“Yes, you know her?”
The Colonel nodded. “Small galaxy, I guess. Ilal, take charge of setting up the command post. Sergeant Tr’Vishnu, take your squad to the consulate and start evacuation procedures. If the Consular has an issue, remind her these are orders from her superiors and she can raise any issues with me. Make sure all staff are escorted to the hoppers and keep track. The staff manifest is part of the mission files. Sergeant Yaris, take your squad to the transporter hub and secure it. Everyone keeps their eyes peeled. Thank you for your time Governor, we’ll do our best to hel where we can. Constable, shall we?”
“Oh! Uhhh, yeah, let me give you a ride Colonel.” The Constable woke up with a bit of surprise, not having anticipated being spoken to, but certainly not willing to look a gift of relief in the mouth.
The drive was relatively short, but in that short time the Constable ran through the history of what had been happening. He was a nice enough guy, and Fork was glad to be in a position to make his life a little easier. It sounded like he was missing his wife and family badly, so with a thanks he let the man go. When he walked into the quaint medical facility he found the log book, signed it, and as he did so he could feel the heat of someone’s gaze upon him. A quick check with his periphery vision revealed a relatively young woman in multi-colored scrubs staring blankly at him.
Sign in done, he broke the lingering gaze by clearing his throat and turning to her. “Hello, nurse. Could you direct me to Doctor Cavan?”
“Doctor…” she stumbled around with the words for a moment, forcing herself to concentrate on something, someone, else. “Oh, yes! The Starfleet doctor, I’m sorry it’s been… a day…” she blushed and coyly chuckled. “Doctor Cavan is in the morgue… visiting, not checking in.” She caught herself and tried to cover up. “This hallway straight down, then the hall on the right all the way to the end. Big, cold room, can’t miss it.”
“Glad to hear it. Thank you.” He nodded professionally and made his way past her, ignorant or uncaring of a still lingering gaze and more concerned with finding Ellie and the poor sap currently watching her back who needed a nap. The nurse’s directions were at least spot on.
“Junior Constable Dovic?” Fork asked the young uniformed man. He nodded. “Yes sir, what can I help you with?”
“Constable Zolnic sent me to relieve you, go get some rest.” Fork presented a PADD confirming the orders, and the young man’s eyes lit up as if he’d just been given a gift. “Yes sir! Thank you sir!”
“Don’t mention it.” Fork barely managed to get out before the percussion of footfalls rapidly striking the floor echoed from the door. Chuckling, he offered a hand to Ellie. ”Small galaxy. I take it we’re here for ostensibly the same reason?”
Ellie did not look up from the exposed subdermal tissue sample on Iancu Molotov’s shoulder, her scalpel making little slices as she worked. “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” she said quietly. “Come to crash my crime scene or have you gotten a taste for forensics since we last saw each other?”
“Crime scene?” Fork tilted his head. “I was told we were enforcing a quarantine. In either case, the Constable and his people need a break, so I’m your bodyguard at the moment. Feel free to reach out to Starfleet’s customer service with any complaints.”
Her demeanor genuinely softened as she put the scalpel down and looked up. “A friendly face is greatly appreciated. Constable Stolnic is nice and all, but always looks like he is going to vomit. Doctor Zohan is an overly eager puppy that only knows about sore throats, and it is rather difficult to get much done with that.”
“Can’t really blame them. Quaint little colony, not exactly a whole lot to experience that would equip them for things like this.” Fork spoke from experience. “And if your entire basis for existence rests on one regular freighter run, you’d sweat a quarantine too… I guess.”
“Well… a quarantine is certainly going to liven things up around here… not like these people were not already stressed and unco-operative enough… this should be fun,” Ellie smirked as she raised her scalpel once again. “Do not let it be understated that the Furies do not make an entrance.”
The Colonel chuckled. “We’re door kickers, not lock pickers. Making an entrance is part of the job. That said, here’s a question. If the problem is a murderer, why is Starfleet instituting a quarantine? There were no medical alerts in the briefing reports, and wouldn’t a quarantine to keep a killer from escaping be overkill?”
“That,” Ellie’s smile grew. “Is the million credit question then. Starfleet does not just send in the Marines to lock down a planet over a simple murder— not even just a string of murders. They must think it is something that cannot get off the world, do they not?”
The scanner emitted a small chirp. “I am inclined to think they are correct.”
The smile quickly disappeared from his lips as Fork stepped over to take a look over Ellie’s shoulder. Game face was on now. “Is that…?”
“A big ass bite mark,” she pointed at the large wound. “Yes, indeed.”
One didn’t need a medical degree to understand how bad that could be. “Prophets… how infectious is it?”
“Well,” she gave Fork a little face. “It depends if it there is an active contagion in the bite, which, preliminary—”
“So we’re…”
Ellie put her scanner down and looked at Fork. “Yes, we are exposed, however—”
“Well… that’s wonderful.” The Stagnorian sighed. It really was ‘always’ something. “We should advise the crew of the Rhode Island, they’re going to need to make sure no one else comes down until you have a handle on this.”
“We can do that,” Ellie avoided the exasperation that was starting to build in her. “From the variables at hand, it appears that the deaths are from the bites themselves, I am still in the middle of analysis to determine if there are any other contagions at this time.”
Words failed her as she looked into her microscope. “Perhaps this is not so unfounded after all,” she looked at the tissue sample swarming with something positively hostile. The microbe was aggressively attacking seemingly healthy tissue at a cellular level.
“Perhapst the quarantine was not unfounded after all,” she muttered, her face paling more than it already was.
He nodded. “So, based on what you know, what kind of symptoms are we looking for? And what do you want to do with anyone on our side that’s infected?”
“So far,” Ellie put her hands on her knees. “I have been unable to observe the pathogen in a living host. If I had to guess, if it is an airborne or fluid-borne, post-mortem pathogen— fever, some kind of cellular breakdown, neurological degradation perhaps? We could be looking at a secondary wave of infections for all we know.”
Another nod as Fork tapped his communicator. “Arvelion to all Marines, change of plans, under no circumstances is anyone to be taken off the planet, we lock the consulate down and shelter in place. Implement MOPP protocols for level 3 contagion. Weapons are to be kept on you at all times, set for heavy stun.”
A string of affirmative responses came back as Fork found Ellie’s eyes. “Alright… now what?”
“We need someone with a bite mark that is not dead,” she said quietly, tapping her kneecap.
“Well, we can check out front to see if anyone’s come in with inexplicable bite marks or puncture wounds lately, but I’m pretty sure they would have told us if they did. We could also swing by the Constable’s office and find out if there have been any reports of animal attacks or something similar…” he folded his arms over his chest as he thought out loud, prioritizing what had to come next. Fork continued walking through the problem when another thought entered his mind. “You don’t happen to know what creature bit them, do you?”
“If I knew, we would not be in this predicament,” Ellie said with her eyebrow raised. “All I can do is postulate at this point.”
“So much for catching it.” Fork rubbed the back of his neck. “If I knew what to look for I could hunt it down and save us some time.”
Ellie let out a soft sigh, putting on magnifiers. “If we look at the malocclusion of the wound itself, it might lead us into the correct direction. The bruising around the wound itself implies the bite force and the dental impressions I took showed incredibly large incisors, about the size of a ball point pen. They seemed to be serrated, which is common among Crocodilians, Rodentia, Catians, and several other species, presuming this is a biped. However, the bite force was what I was particularly hung up on. It is stronger than any known species on record—- hell Fork, it is stronger than the Gorn.”
Fork went for his PADD to look up the local fauna before realizing Ellie would have already done that. “I take it there’s nothing on world that matches your criteria?”
She shook her head, stray hair falling down around her face. “Nothing even comes close. The local fauna has some oddball avian species and a few small burrowing mammals. Their largest predator is reminiscent of a monitor lizard and about the size of a small dog and it eats the small rodents.”
“Alright. So your best estimate… When did the murders occur? Specifically what time of day, if you know?”
“Lividity is giving me… 2300 hours, give or take a few,” Ellie shrugged. “The thing is, Fork, they put these bodies on ice well before I got here, so I have to guess with what they did before and Doctor Zohan was not the most thorough when it came to looking into this, so I have to puzzle it together from his… rather lacking… notes. They were found in the morning, I still think that it is a solid time frame.”
Fork nodded. “Okay, that is something at least.” Now that they knew whatever they were looking for struck by night, they could start coming up with a game plan. “Have you spoken to the Mayor? He’s hard headed, but you’re more diplomatic than I am and a curfew may not be the worst idea.”
“He has been dodging me like the plague,” she said coldly. “If you think a curfew is due, I cannot say it would stop anything at this moment in time unless we have another incident.”
“My thoughts were that if it’s attacking people, taking people out of the equation would help.” Fork smirked. Weariness was written on Ellie’s face, even if the doctor was too proud to admit it.
Ellie leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. “I could use your quarantine to our advantage with the mayor,” she said conspiratorially. “It might not be diplomatic at all, but it could manage to get our way around town without much incident.”
“I’m not worried about getting around.” Afterall, the Mayor wasn’t going to be able to stop a platoon of Marines. Fork leaned up against the wall, arms crossed, in a pose Koren was intimately familiar with. “When’s the last time you ate? Or slept for that matter?”
She gave him a look that would make most men’s insides shrivel up and question themselves. Reynard called it “Are you out of your Vulcan Mind?” face, that few could truly master. Clearing her throat she continued.
“We can frame it as a medical necessity. Tell the Mayor we are containing a potential biohazard from the crime scene. It would not even be a lie, it is all under the microscope. While your marines are securing the scenes, I can work without any interference,” Ellie said. “And if our biter returns to the scene, we can find out what the hell it is.”
“So you haven’t.” Fork concluded, non-plussed. “I’ll handle the Mayor. You find a replicator. You can work after a break.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “I ate on the runner… at some point, really Fork’el,” she pulled her gloves off and let her hair down. “Sleep will happen at some point as well, I am fine for the moment.”
“It’s For’kel, not Fork’el.” He tried hiding a chuckle. It was rather obvious that fatigue at a minimum was setting in. “And were you more awake, you wouldn’t have made that mistake. You, in particular, doctor, have a nasty habit of not sleeping when there’s work to be done. So do we have a deal or am I dragging you back to the CP and tossing you on a cot?”
“Fine, fine,” she raised her hands in mock surrender. “You caught me working. However, I am not some cadet you can order to the barracks for shut eye. I will go to bed when I want to, Colonel.”
She cracked her knuckles, getting to her feet. Elinor Cavan was not tall by any means, nor was she imposing. Yet, she still had presence in a room, whether she liked it or not. “I will take a break after I do another scan at that granary, now that I have more of an idea of what I am looking for— I need to see the same conditions the killer did. You can help me or you can waste your time trying to drag me to a cot.”
“Making sure you’re at your best isn’t a waste of time.” Fork explained. “Working while exhausted, is.”
“Two hours and I will consider a snack and a nap,” she gave him a look. “And for chrissakes For’kel, you will not be throwing me over your shoulder.”
And that was it. Typical Stagnorian stubbornness and independence took over. Rather than reminding her that he technically outranked her and bickering over chains of command, with one arm and scarcely an effort, For'kel scooped up his Vulcan colleague and tossed her over his shoulder. There was no need for words when deeds spoke for themselves. “Now, you were saying?”
“Put me down before I use my phaser on your nether regions.”
“You can have two hours to run your scans, but then you will eat and sleep. Understood?” He tried not laughing, particularly when the impotent ‘kicky-feet’ started. A move straight out of Koren’s playbook. “The only answer I’m going to accept is ‘yes sir’.”
Ellie hung like dead weight. “Fucking, sir yes sir. You are the worst. Put me down.”
“Good. I need to brief my squad leaders. Get what you need for your scans, we’ll leave as soon as we’re ready.” As Fork stepped out to relay orders to his Marines, Ellie turned to the small, sad replicator in the corner of the med-center's staff lounge. She punched in a code she knew by heart, one she had used in a hundred morgues and field stations across the quadrant. The machine hummed and produced a mug of viscous, black liquid that seemed more a ferrofluid than an actual cup of coffee.
It was never a real cup of coffee. Merely a vessel for the caffeine to the body. Which was perfectly adequate. She wondered if there were better replicators in special places, but they put the worst ones in these little forgotten places— perhaps to encourage them to create something new or make better replicators. Maybe to get them to mine deeper for better isolinear chips. Or maybe just because no one who mattered ever had to drink from them.
She took a long, bracing gulp, the heat searing a path down her throat, and carried the mug back to the morgue. Setting it carefully on a clean spot on a counter, she opened a heavy locker and pulled out her offsite kit, a waterproof backpack pre-stocked with everything she might need to process a scene without power or support: evidence swabs, portable scanners, a high-powered forensic light, sample containers, and a compact toolkit. She did a quick inventory, her fingers checking each item by touch, then added a few specialized instruments from her main case.
Wrapping her fingers around the straps, she heaved it around her shoulders. The weight settled around her as it had thousands of times before. There were few things in the known universe that were absolute truths in Ellie’s life. One of them was that she could absolutely scrub the hell out of a scene and figure it out. Just give her time.
================================================================
The autonavigated hovercar managed to cut the trip down to the granary to eight minutes. It was eight minutes of quiet, Fork’s attention spent on the atmosphere around them. It wasn’t just scenery watching, it was reconnaissance. One of those things everyone knew ‘about’, but it was relatively scarce to find someone who knew ‘how’. Somewhere out there was a killer of immense physical stature, and knowing the ins and outs of the colony and its buildings could provide a decisive advantage. Ignorance of them could prove fatal.
The car eventually came to a stop and Fork got out first, instinctively, hand on a Type II as he looked around. They were clear, and he thumped the hood as an instinctive way of messaging that all was safe. The granary remained powered down. With a quick access code the blue glow of the luminol faded as Fork restored power to the granary, the hum of machinery returning like a distant heartbeat. The ghostly map began to form into Ellie’s mind.
“He walked right to that wall,” Ellie pointed with her index finger. The prints faintly glowing under the lights. She motioned toward the large broken board to the East side. “If I am not mistaken, that would lead us out to the nettle patch.”
She waved Fork over. “There,” she pried the plank back and shined a flashlight into the dark hole. “Care to explore or shall I?”
He shone a flashlight inside, hand instinctively going back to his weapon just in case. “You know what to look for, but I’d rather you didn’t risk going into a cloistered tunnel without an obvious avenue of escape.”
“Do not get your underpants in a bunch, we can both go,” Ellie smirked and shimmied into the accessway. Then, she hollered from the tunnel. “You are going to have a tough time, big guy, it is a tight squeeze.”
“Not my first tunnel, doctor.” He muttered before shimmying in. In fairness Ellie wasn’t wrong, it got pretty close to just barely shoulder width on the way down, and the shaft itself was barely large enough to belly crawl through. Fortunately the marine was on top of his physical training, because it made for a short workout. He turned off his own flashlight to preserve light discipline. It wasn’t like it was helping much; Ellie’s feet and butt taking up virtually the whole of the narrow scope of view that the tunnel offered.
The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and rotting wood. The only sounds were their ragged breathing and the scuff of their clothing against the packed dirt. “Would not build a summer home here, bit too snug,” Ellie mumbled.
“Keep moving.”
The nettle patch deed indeed await. They came out of the tunnel into the fading light offered by sunset. The air was stagnate, boggy. There were lights along the town wall, the kind of lighting that was yellow, dull, and uneven… intended more to mark the wall itself than to provide light. An inscription on the wall in an old Terran language the translator identified as Transylvanian-Romanian memorialized ‘ those lost during the bog fever plague of 2355’ and included a roll of several hundred names.
There were several faint sounds that he detected… The downside of having excellent hearing was that you became acutely aware of just how much you didn’t know about a given situation through the additional auditory stimuli you could discriminate from the background. There was scratching, chirping, likely some kind of rodent or small mammal, the flapping of wings, the croak of some kind of amphibian, the sound of dribbling water which could be anything from a small leak from a water intake pipeline or an underground stream that ran close to or through the wall itself. The plants rustled despite the still air.
And then there was a gurgling. The unmistakable, agonizing gurgling of someone fighting to open their airway, and the raspy, heavy, predatorial breathing of a predator indulging in the fruits of a laborious kill.
Without saying anything the phaser came out. Fork grabbed Ellie’s arm, giving a hand signal to hold up as he advanced. Ellie followed, her own scanner held like it was a weapon, its screen dark. Her medical mind automatically began diagnosing the wet, choking sounds, cataloguing the specific type of trauma required to produce them.
Fork stopped at the edge of a small clearing in the nettles, his body going rigid. He did not need to signal her again. She saw it. A man was crouched over a dead rodent. He was dressed in grimy miner's overalls. His posture was slumped, slouched like that of a jackal with the entrails of the creature all over his gullet.
He saw them.
His eyes were wide, pupils dilated into reflective black pools of madness. A string of bloody drool dripped from his chin. Letting out a wild laugh that made the hairs on the back of Ellie’s neck stand on end.
“El îi așteaptă…” The man choked and giggled. Splashing bloody bits around himself. The universal translator failed to keep up. “El va bea și din voi.. He will drink from you too.”
“What in the Stephen fucking King?” Ellie whispered, her fingers digging into Fork’s shoulder.
The man’s head cocked to the side at an unnatural angle, his giggling ceasing abruptly. “The master is hungry,” he said, this time in heavily accented but clear Standard as he shambled toward them. “He sees you. The pale woman who reads the dead. The strong soldier. You will be a fine feast.”
Fork didn’t bother replying, he shot. A blast on heavy stun rather quickly, and almost unexpectedly, dropped the target in a single stroke. He kept his weapon trained on the threat while walking over, crouching down to see that he no longer posed a threat. A quick pat down showed no weapons, no technology really of any kind… There was a wallet in his left pocket with identifying information. Fork passed that back to Ellie, figuring it potential evidence while she ran a quick scan.
She caught the wallet, the whole while her eyes never leaving her tricorder. The device whirred softly, its screen casting a pale blue light on her face. Her brow, which had been furrowed in concentration, suddenly smoothed out. Her breath hitched.
“Fork,” she felt her breath catch ever so slightly in the back of her throat.
“What is it?”
She turned the scanner back to him to read. Throughout the mess of biometric data and outside interference, the one thing was abundantly clear. Lifesigns: Negative.
“Did you just kill that guy?” Ellie quirked her brow. Her tone was far from accusatory and more of curiosity.
Fork pulled out his weapon to confirm. “The phaser was on stun. Is something masking his life signs?”
“Roll back the entire thing, the only signs I have had are our own,” she looked into his eyes with a bit of apprehension. “That guy is not in a coma and he certainly was not running purely on adrenaline— I do not think they are running some crazy underground methamphetamine racket that the Constable forgot to inform us about. This guy, by all intents and purposes was and still is dead and is not all the same.”
Fork reached into a cargo pocket to attach an isolytic tag to the slumbering creature and tapped his combadge. “Arvelion to Yaris, Sergeant commandeer the transporter hub and beam Dr. Cavan, myself, and our guest directly to the Medical Center. Advise them we’re coming back with a possible contagion and to lock down an examination room for us.”
His fellow Stagnorian barked an affirmative response and, moments later, the three of them disappeared in a shower of transporter sparkles.