Subtext & Symbolism (Part 6)

Posted on Tue Jul 8th, 2025 @ 1:07am by Captain Remy Johansen & Commander Irene Seya & Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Crewman Emiliano Echevarria

1,684 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: How to See in the Dark
Location: Planetside Security Operations, Starfleet Complex, Barisa Prime
Timeline: MD 01, Late evening

Emiliano leaned back against the smooth wall panel, his boot heels planted wide on the deck. The small security suite felt more like a supply closet than an actual office--no windows, no buzz of passing crew. Just the quiet rhythmic clicks of the console working its calculations and the faint crinkle of his snack wrapper.

He tore another bite off the small empanadita he'd tucked into his tool belt that morning--cheese and sweet plantain, gone a bit cold and rubbery but still decent enough to maintain his blood sugar levels.

His current task was a far cry from chasing rodents out of power conduits or jury-rigging coolant loops--though, to him, this was no less physical in its own way. It was a different kind of wrestling match: man versus machine.

The console barked low and sharp. Emiliano paused mid-chew. A string of red symbols flashed across the lower corner of the screen--an error in the time sequence for Subject 1 and Subject 2.

He set the snack aside, his shoulder hunching forward as he wiped his fingers on the thigh of his uniform. A few quick taps and he isolated the angle--camera 3-17B, rear quadrant, southern alley. There, half in shadow behind a corner, the blurry outline of Subject 2.

Emiliano's jaw tightened while watching the a part of the figure's body dissolve into a scatter of light.

"Transport," he murmured to himself.

He scrubbed the footage twice to be sure, but he knew exactly what he'd seen. He punched up the city grid overlay and keyed in a new request.

"Computer, scan for transporter signatures in the indexed vicinity--time mark delta zero-four-four-seven."

The console came to life, lines of code crawling faster than his eyes could follow.

[Negative. Insufficient data to confirm transporter activity within the requested parameters.]

Emiliano gritted his teeth. He leaned closer, "Alright, what about anomalous particle activity? Same coordinates, same time index."

There was a brief pause before the computer's voice returned.

[Affirmative. Detected localized bursts of low-level thoron radiation and phased gravitons.]

Emiliano furrowed his brow. "Computer, could these signatures be used to mask transporter traces?"

[Affirmative.]

He blew out a slow breath, pushing a hand back through his thick black hair.

"¡Ya caigo," he muttered under his breath.

He opened a commline through his console, leaning in so his voice wouldn't echo.

"Commander Seya, this is Crewman Echevarria. I've got some news for you, ma'am."

* * *

Lieutenant J.G. Dorsainvil and Commander Seya materialized near the entrance to the alley where Dorsainvil was attacked. The alley was situated near Ilawaal Street. Ahead of them in the direction where their family of interest was last seen walking, was a roundabout approximately four-hundred meters away that opened into half a dozen major streets, but had even more nooks and crannies for one disappear into among the major streets. It was well into the evening now, but the walkways were still busy with foot traffic, as it was a busy time of day for socializing, particularly for the younger crowd.

Festive street lights set the scene down Ilawaal Street, as did the occasional outdoor patio offering it's own themed decoration, and often music. Nearby a line of people trickled down the staircase outside of a door where a security guard stood on a second story balcony. Irene guessed it was a nightclub of sorts, but she wasn't certain.

"Shall we walk the path we think they most likely took until the cameras picked them up again before it gets even busier? Or do you believe there is a reason to search the alley?" Irene asked.

Jean-Baptiste glanced down the alley, seeing only the clutter of crates and refuse. Shifting his gaze toward the pulse of lights and flow of pedestrians spilling into the roundabout in the opposite direction, he paused.

"Let's follow them up to where we caught them on the feed," he replied. "Crowds might be a headache, but if we lose that thread now, we not might not get it back." He looked at Irene to see if her expression betrayed any disagreement, then added, "We can always double-back to the alley if we come up dry."

A voice came over Irene's communicator, interrupting their discussion.

[Commander Seya, this is Crewman Echevarria. I've got some news for you, ma'am.]

Irene raised her eyebrows with interest, nodding at JB quickly before tapping her communicator and stepping away from the foot traffic.

"Go ahead, Crewman."

[Ma'am, the assailants used a masked transport--confirmed thoron radiation and graviton shearing at the extraction point. I'll keep digging for a source, but it's safe to say they had outside help.]

"Send me the location of the extraction point if you have it."

Irene pulled out a small PADD and began walking again, this time picking up her pace as she checked to make sure that JB was following.

He fell into step just behind Irene at an easy stride. His eyes remained fixed on the tricorder in his hand, gathering ambient readings.

JB was now dressed in something far more discreet-dark civilian trousers, soft black boots, and a charcoal turtleneck that hugged the lines of his shoulders without drawing any undue attention. It was the kind of outfit that let him blend in with the night crowd--or slip through the shadows without wandering eyes following.

Emiliano's voice crackled over the comm again. [Coordinates coming through now, ma'am.]

There was a tiny chirp from Irene's PADD, confirming receipt. JB glanced up from his tricorder, meeting her eyes with a small nod before returning to his tricorder display, the glow painting a thin plane across his face.

[One more thing--thoron radiation will decay faster because of Barisa's own background radiation. So you'll need to hurry.]

"We're hurrying," Irene muttered to herself as they shuffled down the street. "Any faster and we'll draw attention to ourselves," she murmured as she picked up the pace half a beat.

Around them, the nightlife unfolded with its own lackadaisical choreography--young people jostling at crosswalks, bright-eyed and invincible; old friends on stoops and in doorways laughing; someone arguing into a wrist communicator about a late food delivery. He liked it, if he let himself. The way cities at night always seemed to belong more to ghosts and half-forgotten loves than to anyone really living. But that was dangerous thinking, and he was trying to keep himself out of those loops.

They veered left toward a narrow thoroughfare with small battery-powered lanterns strung overhead, each one shaped like a hybrid flower that appeared to have been designed by a committee of idiots that had never seen a real flower before. They ducked under them without so much as a glance, their attention fixed to their devices. Still no thoron radiation according to his tricorder.

He cleared his throat. "They probably didn't plan that extraction last minute," he said. "They knew exactly where to peel-off, where to vanish."

"If they are guilty of what we think, then they probably know where all there quick exits are located. It's part of the trade," Irene commented dryly.

"Walk ahead and keep scanning. I'm going to see if Echevarria checked into flight traffic by chance," she added.

"Commander Seya to Echevarria. We're in the vicinity. Still trying to pick up a trace. You haven't looked into air traffic have you? Or any other possibilities as to who might have been on the other end of the transport?" Irene stood by and watched JB carefully as he scanned the area more closely.

Emiliano's voice punched through the late-evening air. [Nothing yet, Commander, but the phased gravitons could be a telltale sign of having been beamed off-planet. So, likely a vessel in orbit.]

JB gave a quick nod to Irene and stepped ahead, the tricorder cradled in one hand like a restless bird. He slipped into the steady river of foot traffic, weaving past a cluster of tourists crowded around an outdoor seafood restaurant. Someone gestured broadly with a neon cocktail in hand, nearly clipping JB's shoulder; he pivoted sideways without breaking stride, like a wisp through the evening's revelry.

A server drifted by balancing a tray of small plates--smoked fish, pickled vegetables, bright clusters of fruit that glowed under the lanterns. The tourists threw their heads back in laughter, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension that wended beneath the night's brighter surface. JB barely registered them; his eyes darting from the tricorder's display to the edge of each doorway and awning.

Beyond the restaurant, he passed a busker perched on an overturned crate, plucking an unfamiliar string instrument that gave off soft, glassy chimes. He skirted a couple sharing an awkward first-date kiss against a mural-splashed wall, their limbs tangled and graceless.

A narrow gap appeared to his left--a thin cut between two brick façades, half-lit by a weak overhead fixture that buzzed in protest. He slowed, glancing down at the tricorder.

There it was. The faint signal began to rise, small peaks like tremor in an otherwise still pond.

[Echevarria to Commander Seya.] Emiliano's Costa Rican accent seemed thicker over the comm now. [I've taken the liberty of requesting the starbase is perform a sensor sweep of all ships in orbit, I've also asked them to--]

Irene tapped her communicator again, "Wait a second, I think he has something. Crewman, standby, keep a lock on our signals."

[Yes, ma'am.]

She jogged into the cut, falling into step behind JB before slowing down, careful to keep from getting out in front of him. She pulled out her own tricorder again and resumed scanning.

"We should be able to trace this back to at least the make and model of the device used to transport them, if not the exact location of the transporter," Irene stated. "From there, if we're lucky, that's where they are. At the very least, maybe our hacker friend can get into the system and see where they went."

JB looked up at Irene, a small hint of triumph written across his face. "I think we're back in it, Commander."

She returned his look with a satisfied smile. "I think we are, Lieutenant."

~tbc~

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