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022 “ “The Case Of The Old Man And The Stims.”


“This the last one?”

“Yes,” said Jackson Slade, looking out of the windshield of the hover and onto the imposing building stretching into the skies above them. A large blue and silver emblem decorated the tower about sixty meters up, announcing its purpose to the world.

“It’s a monstrosity,” said Tank. “What might Black have wanted here?”

“I don’t know,” the former team leader said and exited the hover after it had come to a halt. “But this is our last lead from the results of Bobbie’s analysis of the memory chip. Let’s see if we can get some answers here. Try to be more inconspicuous this time.”

Tank shot him an annoyed glance over the roof of the hover. “What me?”

“You stand out like a Nausicaan at a Deltan wedding.”

He glared but didn’t speak.

“Just leave the talking to me,” said Slade and led the way across the square in front of the building. Even though it was already after business hours the tall glass doors slid open, allowing the two operatives to enter the lobby.

“Welcome to Federation Plaza,” a friendly female voice greeted.

It appeared to emanate from a three dimensional holographic display of the Federation emblem at the center of the spacious lobby. The sphere was actually a miniature version of the entire Federation territory. It was in constant movement and every few seconds another world flashed brightly, displaying trivia about the highlighted planet.

“Did you know that Tau Ceti III joined the Federation in 2321 and that it was the 127th world to do so?”

“No,” said Tank bored. “But now that I do know I wonder how I ever managed without that knowledge.”

Slade frowned at him.

Tank shrugged it off.

“Can I help you, officers?”

The two men turned to find a receptionist nearby. He was passed middle age and his gray hair was noticeably thinning out.

“How did you know?” Slade asked.

The old man smiled. “I wasn’t so sure about him,” he said pointing at Tank. “But you definitely look like an authority figure. It’s that square jaw of yours. Let me guess, former Starfleet. And now … FedSec?”

Tank couldn’t suppress his bemusement and elbowed Slade. “I stand out, huh?”

Slade ignored his partner. He flashed his badge at the man behind reception. “MSD.”

"Municipal Safety. A fancy name. I remember when you guys used to be called cops," he said and nodded. “And don’t feel bad. It's just that I’ve got a knack for getting people. I guess that’s why I’m stuck down here.”

“Have you seen this man here recently?” Slade said. The ultra-slim padd he had presented containing his digital badge shifted to show a picture of Black.

Neither operative missed the sudden change in the old man’s behavior. A few sweat pearls formed on his forehead almost instantly and his right hand moved under his desk.

Tank’s own hand reached for the grip of his Seburo.

“I … I’m not sure.”

Jackson didn’t buy it. “Come on, you said you have a thing about recognizing people. This guy is pretty obvious if you ask me. You would remember having seen him around.”

Tank began to carefully circle the reception desk, trying to get behind the old man who continued to stare at the image while his hand remained busy out of view.

“It’s just I can’t be sure, you see. There are a lot of people coming in and out of here during the day. So many people, so many faces.”

Tank drew his firearm. “Step away from the desk!”

The old man looked at the imposing weapon with wide open eyes.

Slade took a step back, putting the padd away and reaching for his own gun.

“I won’t say it again.”

The receptionist stepped hesitantly backwards. He was holding something in his right hand and it dropped out of his grip as he backed away. When it clattered onto the floor he looked down at it as if he had never seen it before.

“What is it?” asked Slade.

Tank moved in slowly. “It looks like data ports.”

“I … I don’t know how those got here.”

Tank picked the chip-sized devices off the ground and placed them on the desk. Differently to regular data ports these were white and much thinner, almost as if made out of paper. The disposable devices attached themselves like tape to somebody's neck to deliver a specific program right to the user’s enhancer.

“Stims,” said Slade.

“I don’t use those,” the receptionist said quickly. “I mean … I never did.”

“You’ve been caught red handed, old man. You were trying to hide these form us. And from your reaction to that image I’d say you got them from our guy. We know he deals in those.”

The receptionist looked at Tank with utter puzzlement written all over his face. His eyes were threatening to budge out of his skull. “I swear I don’t know who that man is,” he said and wiped the sweat of his brow. He looked back at the stims that had dropped out of his hand. “And I don’t know about those either.”

Tank exchanged a skeptical look with Slade.

“We have no choice but to take you into custody for using an illegal substance. But you can help yourself if you cooperate with us. It might reduce your sentence.”

The man was near tears. “But I told you I don’t know. Why would I lie? You have to believe me I’ve never used this kind of stuff. I used to be in Starfleet, like you.”

Slade sighed. “Let’s assume for a moment you are right, how do you explain those stims? They didn’t magically appear in your hand, did they?”

He looked at his hands as if it was a possibility. “I … I don’t know.”

< You don’t honestly believe this guy? >
Tank asked through a direct link.

< Something is off here. Why would he continue to insist on his innocence if he dropped those stims right in front of our eyes? >

< God knows, maybe he’s going for the insanity plea or maybe he’s got a major case of senility. Don’t tell me you’re going to buy this act just because the guy was in the Fleet. >

The man was sobbing now, holding his face in his hands.

< Get some uniforms up here to get this guy to headquarters, > said Slade. He had noticed a distracting static coming over the link to Tank. It had only appeared very recently and was nothing more than a background noise which did not prevent him from communicating with the other agent but whatever it was, it was gaining intensity.

< Alright. >

“We have no choice in the matter,” Slade told the receptionist. “Possession of stims is illegal and you will have to face a judge. But I promise that we’ll consider mitigating circumstances if you fully cooperate with us. As much as you can.”

He nodded slowly.

“Who else is in the building?” Slade wanted to know.

“It’s mostly empty at this time of night,” he said between sobs. “The NFTA is celebrating a Japanese holiday in their offices on the seventy-fourth floor.”

“NFTA?” asked Tank.

“The Nyuchiba-Federation Trade Alliance. They have their headquarters here.”

“Anything else happening?” said Slade. “Or any unusual activities lately?”

The old man had calmed down somewhat. He considered the question for a moment and then shook his head. “Not really. We had some high level visits from Paris this week, and they did maintenance work down in the basement the last couple of days. Everything else was fairly routine.”

Two dark blue, four door hovers arrived outside the building. Bright white letters shone through the darkness. San Francisco Municipal Safety. And in smaller letters on the back fender: Oro en paz, fierro en guerra.
A couple of officers in matching blue uniforms exited the vehicles and entered Federation Plaza.

“Very well,” said Slade. “These officers will take you down to our headquarters now.” He indicated to the pair of female agents who approached the receptionist.

“Inform Bobbie Case that he’s been found using stims but insists on his innocence,” he said to one of the officers. “I want a full interrogation and a closer look at his enhancer. He should fully cooperate, isn't that right?"
"Of course," he said quickly.

“Please place your hands behind your back, sir,” said one of the agents and then proceeded to slip a matchbox sized device between the old man’s wrist, forcing them together behind his back.

The old man offered no resistance. “I swear by the oath I took in Starfleet, I’ve never seen those things before,” he said and indicated towards the stims on the desk before he was escorted out of the building.

Tank watched them leave. “What a nut case.”

“Did you notice the static in the comlink?”

Tank nodded. “Yeah, it’s been there ever since we got into this building. What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know but something tells me Black didn’t just come here to peddle some stims to an aging receptionist.”

“Wanna check out the festivities upstairs?”

“I’m not much for parties.”

“You don’t say.”

“You go. I have a look around down here.”

Tank didn’t need to be told twice.


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