Personal Log 72: The Story Of Edward Harvard
02 Oct 2016Jemine Caesar
The 'Emperor's Head'Bainbridge Dock, Koyans
23rd October, 3301
The 'Emperor's Head' certainly lived up, or rather down, to its reputation. A dark, smelly bar room with faded decor and broken lights, inhabited by various down-at-heel characters who eyed us with suspicion or disdain in varying degrees. Sam ordered drinks for us, and asked where we might find Ted Harvard. The barmaid nodded towards the far corner of the room.
"Come far?" she asked us. "Your Federation clothes are a bit of a giveaway."
We took our drinks to the corner table indicated by the barmaid. Nursing a half-empty glass of dark liquid sat a man of around 80, his once-black hair now heavily streaked with grey, an unkempt beard obscuring his mouth.
"Ted Harvard?" asked Sam, placing his glass on the table. The man looked up at us through bleary eyes.
"Yesh." he said, drunkenly. "Yesh I am. Who are you? Do I owe you money?"
Nathalie assured him he didn't. "But we want to ask you some questions," she added, her hand moving to her hidden stun pistol.
"Quesshuns?" slurred Harvard. "What quesshuns?" Harvard turned to me, and said, "Do I know you?"
I assured him that it was highly unlikely. Sam asked Harvard what he could remember about working as a bodyguard in 3272. The old man looked vague.
"3272?" he pondered. "Thassa long time ago."
Nathalie tried to jog his memory. "There was a job at a chat show on Capitol. You were one of the bodyguards for Harold Duval."
Harvard's face suddenly went pale. "Ssh!" he hissed. "I can't talk about that here! Come with me." He got up, rather unsteadily, and weaved off towards the exit.
"Where are we going?" asked Sam.
"Back to my place," replied Harvard. "We can talk there."
Harvard's place turned out to be a perfect reflection of the man himself. Filthy, smelly, with empty bottles and dirty plates nestling among discarded, worn out clothes.
"Take a sheat," Harvard said, moving a bottle from the sofa. Sam and I gingerly sat down.
Nathalie remained standing, and began to question Harvard. "Now," she said, "in 3272 you were guarding Harold Duval at a holostudio. He went to see someone in one of the dressing rooms. Remember?"
Harvard nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I remember. It was Rebekka Thorne he went to see. She was in a holosoap, 'Star's End'. Harold Duval was an admirer."
"How long," asked Sam, "was Duval in Rebekka Thorne's dressing room?"
"About two hours," replied Harvard. "He was intending to see Cheryl Maughan-Pike too, but he called it off when he started to feel unwell. I escorted him back to the transport, and he was taken back to the palace by the other bodyguard."
Nathalie demanded to know if Harvard had heard anything while Duval and Rebekka were alone in the dressing room.
"No," he replied. "I heard nothing, apart from some laughter from both of them." Nathalie grimaced at the image this conjured up. "Look," Harvard went on. "What is this all about? Who are you people?"
In answer, Nathalie produced her stun pistol.
"Nath, wait," I said. Then I turned to Harvard. "Mr Harvard, my name is Jemine Caesar. Rebekka Thorne is my mother. I believe that she was raped that night in her dressing room, by Harold Duval. I'm looking for proof."
Harvard looked at me as though he was seeing me for the first time. "Jemine," he said. "What did Rebekka tell you about your father?"
I shrugged, and replied, "All I know is that she was raped, and that Harold Duval is my father."
Harvard shook his head, and sighed. "No," he said. "I am your father."
There was an agonisingly long silence. I wanted to scream at this horrible man, to tell him he was a liar. But all I could do was sit, open-mouthed in astonishment, as Harvard continued his story.
"Rebekka and I were at drama school together. We were lovers. She used to call me Teddybear. Then she got her break into showbizz, and I... well, I didn't. After drama school I joined the Navy, and then a few odd jobs here and there. It was a huge surprise to me when I saw Rebekka at that studio. She didn't know I was there, until Duval called for me. I escorted him to the transport, and Al Salmon took him back to the palace. Then I went back to see Rebekka. And then... well, you know what happened next."
Sam produced a small device. "There's one way to prove it, Harvard. This is a DNA test kit. Sample, please."
Harvard shook his head. "No. You won't need that. I have something better to prove I'm telling the truth." He placed a holocube on the table, and activated it. A tiny image flickered into life.
"Oh, my!" I gasped. "It's grandmama."