Unknown Ttooine Corpse MIA

[Crash Calestorm 0]

Mareena: “If I were to hear anything of interest, I’d let you know. You would do the same for me.”

Calestorm: “It’s a deal." - The Devil You Know, 12.12.11

 

Outer Rim

T’tooine Orbital Docks, Section C Cargo

February 04, 2260 (2260.35)

 

Captain Serval, Chief Guard for the Black Kris, motioned for two of his soldiers to remove the lid of the torpedo casing; inside the container lay a partially desiccated corpse, clad in frayed clothing.

 

“No other bodies?”

 

The big felinoid shook his head in the affirmative. “A couple of kids exploring Old City found it in a storage unit, concealed enough that the bugs and scavengers didn’t pick at it.”

 

“Colony police?”

 

“Old City constable owes me a favor. No records on file.”

 

The Orion female studied the body from a distance. The corpse was female; a faded Starfleet field tunic showed through the dirt and grime. An energy weapon had been taken to the head, close range discharge.

 

“How long?”

 

“My contact estimates it...she’s been dead at least a year.” He pointed a paw in the general direction of the body, extending a single claw. “One hand shows an exposure wound. Half a dozen poorly healed fractures – arms, legs, torso. If we want a better forensic estimate, that’ll cost us.”

 

“What are your thoughts, Serval? Slavers?”

 

“…the execution style makes me wonder. Slavers won’t waste easy credits, and Mercs would just as soon space ‘em if they were causing trouble.”

 

“It’s been two years since the Battle of Vulcan. Escape pod drift? Let’s assume she was held as a prisoner for one year, and then killed.”

 

“That would be my guess, yes.”

 

“Secure the body. Have two of your plainclothes operatives transport her to the Starfleet listening post. Get word to Calestorm.” The older woman gazed at the brutalized body, her expression neutral.

 

He purred, the sound low and guttural. “Yes, Mistress Mareena.”