where he disabled the midship and aft video monitors before beginning his crime spree. Officer Ree was a personal friend, yet I find myself relieved that he stopped this Sentian when he did.”
“We appreciate you taking us into your confidence, Captain. Maybe this will help us to protect our people in the future,” I said.
R.J. asked, “Captain, are you certain of the sequence of events? Were you able to autopsy both individuals yet? Has this room been tested?”
“Yes, Commander. As I’ve mentioned, we found the signatures of the two missed disrupter blasts in the weapons locker door, and the wound to the Sentian’s chest also confirm what I’ve told you. There was only one curious piece of evidence, but I believe that was just an oddity, nothing more.”
“What was that?” asked R.J.
“As a routine in these matters, we always verify everything possible. We ran a quick check for the palm and finger prints on the Officer’s weapon to be absolutely certain he fired the shots. We found no forensic evidence on the weapon’s grip at all. No prints whatsoever. It has to be that the weapon was wiped by the officers clothing as it fell, or somehow as he lay dying on the floor. Very unusual, but not impossible.”
“So you don’t use smart weapons here, Captain?” I asked.
“We have found that those systems fail from time to time and we will never take the chance of giving an officer a weapon that will not fire.”
I nodded my understanding. R.J. continued to wander around the room.
“Gentleman, if there’s nothing more, I need to return to the flight deck,” said the Captain.
“Thank you so much,” I replied.
“Yes, thank you, Captain,” said R.J.
“If you think of anything we’ve missed, please let me know, Commander,” said the Captain and he turned and left the room.
I watched R.J. continue to walk around like a bloodhound searching for a scent.
“Pretty cut and dry there Sherlock, wouldn’t you say?”
R.J. did not reply. He stood with one hand stroking his beard.
“That was nice of him to let us in on it. It surprised me,” I added.
Still no response from R.J.
“Okay, think I’ll step outside the airlock and be one with nature.”
R.J. seemed not to have heard a word of it. I laughed and left him to his puzzle.
Back in my comfort zone, feet propped up on the desk, I resumed reading my tablet by the artificial light through my artificial curtains. My tea was cold but it was scenting the air in such a pleasant way reheating became compulsory. Once reheated and reseated, I resumed the classic novel on my laptop. It was a very old John D. MacDonald book titled, “Pale Gray For Guilt.” The fact that the story had been written so long ago made the book even more profound. Not only did it show how little the devious people of today had changed from those of the past, it also contained author insights into the future that were so right on they seemed prophetic.
An hour flew by. Finally R.J. came tromping through the adjoining door, plunked a scanner down on my night stand, and flopped down on the bed. He sat back against the headboard, his legs crossed, feet hanging off the edge.
“It’s all wrong,” he said.
“To what do you refer, Sir?”
“The Captain’s series of events in the security office.”
I sat back from my novel, concerned this was going somewhere. “It sounded pretty wrapped up to me.”
“Nope.”
“The place was cleaned. There was nothing left there to find.”
“Yeah there was.”
“A sterile, empty office? What could you have possibly spotted that they did not?”
“Extra shots fired, for one thing.”
“For one thing? You mean there’s more?”
“Trajectory variance, and the reason there were no prints on the weapon.”
“What are you talking about? Have you told the Captain about this yet?”
“Not yet. I thought you might like to be there.”
After a poorly received call to the bridge, we made a brisk jaunt back to the security
“We appreciate you taking us into your confidence, Captain. Maybe this will help us to protect our people in the future,” I said.
R.J. asked, “Captain, are you certain of the sequence of events? Were you able to autopsy both individuals yet? Has this room been tested?”
“Yes, Commander. As I’ve mentioned, we found the signatures of the two missed disrupter blasts in the weapons locker door, and the wound to the Sentian’s chest also confirm what I’ve told you. There was only one curious piece of evidence, but I believe that was just an oddity, nothing more.”
“What was that?” asked R.J.
“As a routine in these matters, we always verify everything possible. We ran a quick check for the palm and finger prints on the Officer’s weapon to be absolutely certain he fired the shots. We found no forensic evidence on the weapon’s grip at all. No prints whatsoever. It has to be that the weapon was wiped by the officers clothing as it fell, or somehow as he lay dying on the floor. Very unusual, but not impossible.”
“So you don’t use smart weapons here, Captain?” I asked.
“We have found that those systems fail from time to time and we will never take the chance of giving an officer a weapon that will not fire.”
I nodded my understanding. R.J. continued to wander around the room.
“Gentleman, if there’s nothing more, I need to return to the flight deck,” said the Captain.
“Thank you so much,” I replied.
“Yes, thank you, Captain,” said R.J.
“If you think of anything we’ve missed, please let me know, Commander,” said the Captain and he turned and left the room.
I watched R.J. continue to walk around like a bloodhound searching for a scent.
“Pretty cut and dry there Sherlock, wouldn’t you say?”
R.J. did not reply. He stood with one hand stroking his beard.
“That was nice of him to let us in on it. It surprised me,” I added.
Still no response from R.J.
“Okay, think I’ll step outside the airlock and be one with nature.”
R.J. seemed not to have heard a word of it. I laughed and left him to his puzzle.
Back in my comfort zone, feet propped up on the desk, I resumed reading my tablet by the artificial light through my artificial curtains. My tea was cold but it was scenting the air in such a pleasant way reheating became compulsory. Once reheated and reseated, I resumed the classic novel on my laptop. It was a very old John D. MacDonald book titled, “Pale Gray For Guilt.” The fact that the story had been written so long ago made the book even more profound. Not only did it show how little the devious people of today had changed from those of the past, it also contained author insights into the future that were so right on they seemed prophetic.
An hour flew by. Finally R.J. came tromping through the adjoining door, plunked a scanner down on my night stand, and flopped down on the bed. He sat back against the headboard, his legs crossed, feet hanging off the edge.
“It’s all wrong,” he said.
“To what do you refer, Sir?”
“The Captain’s series of events in the security office.”
I sat back from my novel, concerned this was going somewhere. “It sounded pretty wrapped up to me.”
“Nope.”
“The place was cleaned. There was nothing left there to find.”
“Yeah there was.”
“A sterile, empty office? What could you have possibly spotted that they did not?”
“Extra shots fired, for one thing.”
“For one thing? You mean there’s more?”
“Trajectory variance, and the reason there were no prints on the weapon.”
“What are you talking about? Have you told the Captain about this yet?”
“Not yet. I thought you might like to be there.”
After a poorly received call to the bridge, we made a brisk jaunt back to the security
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