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Kylah nods sympathetically at M. Deschamps. It must be terrible to have one's home devastated by such a cruel illness. "I have spoken to the medical team already," she says. "I do hope that someday I will understand just how pleasant the spores can be." She then shrugs as if to imply that the topic is not important. "The thought of knowing such delight and then abruptly ceasing it does worry me. Is the experience of ending your treatment very jarring?"
Graham feels his shoulders tensing up. On the plus side, he's been able to have a decent conversation with the Hsus. The fact is that even if Wilson is a good guy--and as far as I am concerned, the jury is still out--he's on the hook to be the head ass-kisser, so whatever he is going to be willing to say or do will be highly constrained, he thinks.
On the downside, somebody just tried to hack security--and I've completely lost track of the admiral, dammit. And Kylah's getting ready to go undercover alone with some rich jerk. Correction, he thinks--you don't know he's a jerk. But he's a rich guy, Booker thinks, so it's a safe bet. He's comforted by the fact that Kylah and Collins went off together to get ready: Collins has a few years in Security under her belt, and they're roommates after all, so they should have a good rapport that helps get Kylah's head into the game.
"No, not jarring," the New Parisian man says. "Just... a little sad, a little disappointing, for me at least. But all good things must come to an end, no?"
Kylah nods. "Toutes les bonnes choses ont une fin," she says quietly. "That has been my experience as well. I am glad this treatment is one you can repeat, however; I should think it makes the parting easier to bear. I hope you did not have to wait too long before you could return?"
"Over a year," he says. "My income, and the distance, both kept me away longer than I would have liked." He smiles and sighs contentedly. "But it was definitely worth the wait."
Kylah gives him a small but kind smile. He seems so gentle and likeable--it was very fortunate that she ran into him. Her mood remains low but at least she's received a much-needed reminder that not all humans are cruel bigots. "I am glad you were able to find the money to do something that gives you such pleasure, monsieur. How long is your present stay? And what would you most recommend as activities while here?"
Collins pulls out her communicator and looks at it as it chirps. When she hears Graham's voice, she opens it reluctantly. "Collins here. Yes, I'm in the lounge, by the big window. There are not a lot of people around. Collins out." Knowing that Graham will show up shortly, she tries to pull herself together, although her efforts seem fruitless.
"Actually, we are actually staying at the research facility. We are with Starfleet and we are here to make sure that everything is running smoothly, both there and at the resort." Rangin waits to see how they react to the omission from earlier. He hadn't said he was on vacation, just that it was his first time here.
"But a hike across the land would be most pleasant", Rangin continues in a very calm and serene voice, "perhaps something could be arranged for tomorrow."
T'Var nods in agreement with Rangin. "Yes, if possible, we would very much enjoy a hike with you."
Deschamps says, "I'll be here almost another two weeks. I like to golf, and swim, and read. The food is quite good, too." He pats his belly a little self-consciously.
The Icelandic couple don't seem put out by the admission that T'Var and Rangin are with Starfleet. "A hike it is, then!" says Mr. Gunnarsson. "Shall we meet tomorrow at, say, 10am, in the main lobby?"
"Wonderful. Should our duties permit, then we would be delighted. If we unable to join you, we will, of course, inform you before breakfast." Rangin notes their lack of reaction, seemingly as expected from the effect of the spores. "Until tomorrow then?"
If nothing else further occurs Rangin will be heading across to the next couple with T'Var to repeat the conversation again and see what response they gain from them.
T'Var and Rangin next meet David and Melissa Menessou, of Atakora, Benin, in the United States of Africa. They are both retired, him from banking and her from teaching. This is their third trip to OC3, and they like it very much. "We'd probably live here if we could afford it!" Mrs. Menessou jokes. She is an amateur gardener and especially enjoys the flowers.
Kylah nods. "I have only eaten in one of the restaurants thus far, their sole 'alien' establishment, and it was quite good. I will have a chance to experience the Italian place this evening." This evening... how will she manage to maintain a veneer of sociability when feeling this sad? Why did she agree to this? Of course, because it was her duty to learn more about this resort. Well, she cannot shirk it just because her mission commander managed to do everything to dishearten her. Perhaps walking around some more will improve her state of mind.
She inhales in hopes that oxygen will give her more energy. "...But that does remind me that I have little time left before my engagement, and need to make some final preparations. I am very glad to have met you, M. Deschamps--and I thank you for your advice. My stay is much shorter than yours, but perhaps we will speak again before I leave?" Standing, she holds out her hand to the old gentleman.
He rises, shakes her hand and also gives her a peck on each cheek. "Au revoir, mademoiselle. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I hope we meet again."
"Do you have any complaints about the resort?" T'Var asks the retired couple. "After three trips here, I am certain you know this place very well."
Kylah is particularly touched by the man's kindness--and both his closeness and the physical connection allow her to sense his warmth and peaceful joy even without trying; the spores are likely the reason. She almost wants to linger just so as to hold these feelings close. Instead she thanks him again in a soft voice and leaves the lounge, her heart aching.
As she walks back along the corridor toward the shops and, further along, the hospital, she can't help think of what Deschamps said to her about speaking to the medical staff. Perhaps she should. Obviously not for this mission, but maybe the spores--as mistrustful as she has been toward the treatment--would be a useful therapy for her on some vacation. If nothing else, they might provide some respite from herself, the parts of her that seem to engender such disappointment and dislike in others. It cannot be all their doing. Not so many, not for so many years. Even her family.
No, do not do this, do not be so maudlin, Kylah thinks, placing a hand to her head. I shall never survive the evening! She pauses, takes a deep breath, and wonders how she might be of use while still offering a distraction from her mood.
She pauses and checks her communicator's chronometer; if there is time before they are to convene in the lobby, she will head outside, perhaps to see the house now being used by Lord Fastolfe. She is very curious to see how the man continues to fare under the influence of the spores. If he can be made agreeeable, anyone can. Even me.
Graham nods to the Hsus. "If you'll excuse us, we'll meet up with Lt. Collins and the others. Assuming she approves we'll figure out how the Yorktown's systems can compliment your own. And I'd definitely like to talk shop with you while we're here," he adds, looking at Lionel. If neither the Hsus or Delaney have anything else to add, he heads toward the lounge.
The Menessous look at each other, and the gentleman says in a quiet voice, "No, no complaints, really. We always enjoy our visits here. That's why we keep coming back, after all!"
Kylah has time to go outside. Some nicely-dressed people pass her on their way to the various restaurants for dinner. Several men and at least one woman look her over with great interest.
The Hsus have nothing to add, but say goodbye for now. Delaney accompanies Graham and mutters, "It can't be a coincidence that someone's trying to hack their security system the same day the Yorktown arrives."
Collins's communicator beeps. It's Lt. Christopher Palver, director of the Starfleet research station. He says, "Mr. Collins, I hope you've had a good visit to the resort. Your guest rooms are ready here. Not meaning to nudge, but when should we expect you back?"
"That's really good to hear that the resort is so popular. Just out of curiousity, is that because of the spore therapy or just because its such a great place. If it wasn't on offer, would you come back here or go elsewhere?" Rangin enquires further.
"Well, the spore therapy is definitely a draw, and of course it's unique," Mrs. Menessou burbles, "but it'd be a great place even without that." Her husband nods in agreement.
"Collins here" Jeremi responds. "Unless you have a curfew or shut down time, we're going to have dinner here and be back sometime before, but no later than, 2200."
While she waits for Palver's response, she looks for Graham's approach. When the conversation with the research station is done, she will send a private message to Captain Singh, asking to speak with her privately before the mission recap.
Kylah feels the slightly cooler air as the afternoon turns to dusk, and the difference in the sky is astonishing. Before, it was almost too bright to look at directly. Now it's a shade that reminds her of her mother's favorite gown, all soft, purple and velvet. All the outbuildings are cast in the same shade, as are the trees and vegetation. She inhales deeply, feeling better for being among nature rather than people. Life is so much quieter without others.
She frowns while looking to her left and right. Either her memory is faulty--quite possible, considering all that's occurred in the past couple of hours--or the tour they took earlier never went past the apparently grander houses that seem to be so prized by the wealthiest guests. She wanders for a bit, then climbs to the top of a hillrise and pauses, turning around to get the best view of her surroundings. The gentle breeze blows her hair and dress about, and it's a lovely sensation. Between the weather and the beautiful surroundings, Kylah understands more of the resort's attraction. Nevertheless, if she could, she would disappear entirely. She has the strangest desire to return to her favorite hiding place back on Elas in the old, closed-off sections of her family mansion and sit as she used to, knees hugged tightly against her chest, eyes closed, enjoying the dark silence and freedom from others' influence on her mind.
Sighing at the pointless fantasy, she looks for signs of the houses, or at least anyone in the vicinity who might help her find her way around.
The Starfleet scientist chuckles. "That would be fine, Mr. Collins. No curfew, but we would like to know approximately when to expect you; please let me know if you're going to be much later than that. Thank you. Palver out."
Lt. Thalen replies for the Captain, "She's available to speak to you whenever you wish."
Kylah cannot see the guest houses from her current vantage point - she thinks they might be on the far side of the main resort complex - but she can see the well-kept gardens and outer grounds quite well. As evening falls, she also sees T'Var and Rangin talking to what appears to be an older Human couple. They are no more than a minute or so away on foot. Several other people, guests and a WR&R groundskeeper, are also nearby.
At the sight of her colleagues, Kylah's muscles literally twitch with the impulse to cross over to T'Var and Rangin. She actually starts in their direction, but stops herself when Collins's painful words return to her. Go run to your mommy substitute. That is why you cling to T'Var, isn't it? Were you taken from your own mother too soon? Were you not ready to be weaned?
Her mouth dry, she turns away. Collins has effectively tainted Kylah's one beneficial female relationship on the Yorktown, turned it into something pathetic and contemptible--even psychologically perverse. Kylah can only thank her deep sense of privacy that when talking about her romantic feelings, she did not reveal Velir Rangin as their object. What would Collins have done to poison that?
Now she is far to self-conscious to seek out T'Var and Rangin, as much as she longs to speak with them. At least she will see them in the lobby. Besides, she is still on duty, and she would not be at all surprised if none of the others had been willing to follow up with the odious man.
So Kylah heads to the groundskeeper. When she reaches the employee she apologizes for interrupting any duties, but asks where the deluxe cottages are. "I do not wish to gawk, I assure you," she says with a gentle shake of her head. "You see, I had the good fortune of assisting Lord Fastolfe with ensuring he was satisfied with the housing arrangements. I just hoped to see if he is indeed enjoying his vacation. Would you be able to help me, please?"
The groundskeeper, an older woman holding a rake and shears, says, "I'm not allowed to tell you where particular guests are staying, ma'am, but the guest houses are through the lobby, down the hallway to your right, and then just follow the signs. Or you can take the long way around the resort - go to your left, then right as far as you can, then right again."
"I hear you," Graham replies to Delaney as they walk. "But is it because we dropped off an admiral, or because somebody wants to make WR&R look bad so they can shark the contract? Or something else? With who knows how many important people around, and who knows how much money at stake..." He shakes his head. "Nothing to be done but keep trying to figure it out."
Kylah thanks the groundskeeper and, worried about the time factor, decides she had better leave off the Fastolfe plan until tomorrow. She could take the shorter route through the lobby, but not at the risk of running into Collins earlier than necessary. If she's to see her crew again before dinner, she wants the others around her. Not another one-on-one with Collins.
She glances back in T'Var and Rangin's direction. Are they heading toward the resort again? She decides to move more quickly. She also doesn't want Collins to see her arriving with T'Var. This is absurd, I should not have to care about such things! Damn that woman to the southern continent, Kylah thinks furiously. As she walks downhill, she rather relishes the prospect of Collins being confined to the most remote area of Elas -- considered uninhabitable because of its high level of volcanic activity. It's also the area most full of Dilithium, but only unmanned vehicles are used to locate and then transport the crystals for use. If suddenly Collins winked into existence there, her lungs would burn up with a single breath, followed by her skin melting off and then her bones turned to ash.
Perhaps it's a tad exaggerated a punishment for someone who's merely a tactless, bullying, scatterbrained and incompetent leader. Still, considering it's all hypothetical, Kylah enjoys the indulgent fantasy nevertheless.
"That's kind of what I thought. Well, it's been a pleasure to speak to you", nods Rangin in their direction, "and I hope the rest of your stay is most pleasant."
He will hopefully wander off to one side with Dr T'Var and ask, "Well, what do you think so far?"
Collins replies to Thalen while waiting for Graham to show up "Thank you, Lieutenant. When we return from the mission, but before the debrief, would be good."
Graham finds Collins in the lounge. In a low voice he informs her of the attempt to break into the facility's systems. "Mrs. Hsu and her husband--he's chief of security--seemed willing to work with us," he concludes. "I suggested we bring the Yorktown's systems to bear on monitoring and tracing...with your permission, L-T."
"Yes," Collins says as she opens her communicator, grateful that Graham didn't notice her red eyes. "Collins to Yorktown, Ensign Graham has some information to share." She holds the communicator out so that Graham can hear and speak into it easily.
Kylah enters the resort and slowly heads to the lobby, where she's surprised to discover that she's the only team member there. She looks around at the front desk warily, as if expecting Collins to jump out at her, but there's still no sign of her colleagues. Next she glances at her communicator to ensure she hasn't arrived too late after all. But no, not only does the chronometer confirm that she's on time, she remembers that T'Var and Rangin are still outside and are likely about to arrive. Kylah absently runs a hand through her curls, creating some order out of the chaos created by the breeze outside, and thinks of what she might possibly accomplish in the remaining time that perhaps the others haven't.
She turns to the front desk clerk. "I beg your pardon," she says quietly. "I am a member of the Yorktown crew that accompanied Admiral Hardin, one of your guests, to the resort. My name is Ensign Kylah, the landing party's communications officer, and I just wanted to ensure that everything is satisfactory. Do you know if anyone from my crew have communicated with the Admiral since he arrived? Of course I do not need any details, I simply want to make sure we have been in touch."
Glancing around to ensure there isn't a guest who might overhear, Graham speaks into the communicator. "There's been an attempt to remotely access the resort's security systems via encrypted subspace transceiver. No more details than that so far--but they are willing to accept any help the Yorktown can provide monitoring their systems and trying to track any further attempts...ah, not that I know how to set that up personally, but I can make the connection down here with their chief of security."
The clerk checks a computer terminal and says, "No call for Adm. Hardin has come through our front desk; someone might have contacted him directly, though. I see no indication that the admiral has had any problems."
Cmdr. Vargas, the Yorktown's First Officer, comes on the line with Collins and Graham. He says, "Thanks for letting us know. I'll get in touch with the resort's chief of security and see what we can do."
T'Var and Rangin arrive in the lobby, see Kylah and come over to her. Graham now notices them from the lounge.
Noticing some of the team in the lobby, Graham can't help but smile a little: a few foibles and little mysteries aside, it seems like a good group. "Looks like the gang's all here," he says to Collins, "shall we?" He pauses a moment with one hand raised to wave to the others, halfway through turning and taking a step toward the lobby. Collins seems a little...off. "Is everything OK, L-T?" he asks.
"Thank you," Kylah says to the clerk, patting the desk absently. She hesitates. No, she can't possibly get Collins any angrier with her than she already is. "Would you... would you please leave a message with Admiral Hardin for me? Please just tell him that the Yorktown crew are still here and at his disposal, and of course not to hesitate to contact either me--or more appropriately our mission leader, Lieutenant JG Collins--if the need arises?" Kylah waits a beat, then adds: "Otherwise please let him know that we hope his vacation is all he wishes it to be."
She nods her thanks to the employee and turns around--whereupon her gaze lands on T'Var and Rangin entering the lobby. Her immediate thought on seeing the Vulcan is slight disappointment that her plan of not being seen with T'Var in front of Collins so quickly has been foiled. But that is quickly followed by indignation. I shall see whom I choose!
And that is even more quickly followed by her attention being drawn to Rangin. Her breathing quickens and she can't help a flash of self-consciousness at whether she looks anything the way she hoped to, or if Collins has made her look like a trollop. But she controls herself and despite dearly wanting to draw closer to the Coridanite, she addresses T'Var first. "Hello again, Doctor."
Finally she lets herself look at Velir and does her best to hold his gaze. Her intent all along was to look mature and womanly, and that means being able to be calm in the face of her insecurities. She breathes deeply to steady her nerves. This has the unforeseen result of emphasizing her cleavage, and she quickly exhales to avoid what could be a disastrous slip of the material.
"...A-and Mr. Rangin," she says quietly. "I hope the two of you found the rest of your time at the hospital edifying."
As the enter the lobby Rangin is in a good mood. From what he has seen and heard from the guests this is little more than a high class resort if money can afford it with the spore therapy an icing on the cake. But nothing to suggest the addictive nature that some commodities have.
"Look, its a high class resort", he continues, " of course, they all look relaxed and happy, they have paid a lot of money to be pampered and happy. It would not be much of a resort, if they were not happy. Admittedly they don't have the predilection to respond to slight falsehoods, but from their words and actions I would hardly say they are addicted."
Rangin stops speaking as Kylah approaches and he drinks in the sight of the clothes she is wearing. As she fixes his gaze, he locks into it, nods to her in appreciation and then slowly and deliberately looks her down and then up before meeting her gaze again and making sure she is noticing.
"Very impressive, Mr Kylah. I feel honoured to have seen you so attired. If I had known dinner was so formal, I would have changed into something more appropriate. But this is all I have to wear. I wish I was the one fortunate enough to be escorting you to dinner tonight." Rangin brushes off a speck of fluff from one sleeve with a smile.
"The hospital itself was most interesting. We have a few answers and a difference of opinion, that myself and the good doctor were working out. It was quite refreshing."
Collins sighs "Too much to go into now. After the mission, I'll tell you over beer." She pockets her communicator and joins Graham in heading to meet up with the group.
Kylah can almost feel the weight of Rangin's deliberate stare as it passes up and down her body, and she's filled with a strange mixture of pleasure and concern. As much as she hoped he would see her differently, she does not feel comfortable with the sense that he's not just admiring her appearance; it's as if he wants her to feel like a racehorse for sale.
And his words seem to send the same mixed message. On the surface they are flattering, to be sure. But 'impressive' and 'honored to have seen you' -- there is something dismissive and dry in such comments. Does he think she is showing off? Flaunting herself? In truth there is only one man she wishes to impress, only one man she wishes were escorting her to dinner. She nearly blurts that she, too, wishes he were her date tonight.
Instead she just says "Thank you," fighting her disappointment. What did I think? He would take my hand and kiss it? Say I look beautiful? If he does not feel this way, why should he perform to my childish expectations? Kylah's hand flutters to her midriff and she can feel her cold fingers against her flesh. "I know it is formal, but... I was taught to dress for dinner. Especially when one is in a new environment, or a guest, or with a special person... someone one wishes to impress." Kylah looks hopefully at Velir, wishing he could be made to understand she wore this, that she bought this, entirely for him. But she cannot reveal such a thing, not in front of T'Var, not even in front of Rangin if he would only mock her lightly. And now the others are coming this way too, she notices from behind Rangin's shoulder. She can say nothing personal with Collins nearby.
Before they are too close, she adds: "But you do not need to disparage what you wear. You seem fit for any occasion no matter how you are dressed. I am not so fortunate."
Looking away toward T'Var once Collins, Delaney and Graham approach, she attempts to change the subject. "So--so then you two do not agree on the benefits of the spores despite your visiting the same places? I cannot decide. Of the several guests to whom I've spoken, there are some hints that it is far too easy to let oneself keep taking the treatment. The man I am seeing tonight is a perfect example. He seems willing to stay indefinitely no matter how much it costs him. It is true he has the means, and I suppose if it makes one happy... Nevertheless, that is one of the things I wish to determine tonight." She thinks of Deschamps. "The last man I met, there is no doubt he benefits from the treatment. He was so happy and kind, and very friendly to me... Extremely so." She almost smiles at the memory.
"But he was not wealthy. He had to save every penny to return to this spa. Would this money have been better spent elsewhere? I do not know. One may say the same thing of casinos or bars. However, we are not being asked to judge a casino or bar. The spores are a very new treatment and I suspect it is better to err on the side of caution. Do you agree, doctor? Especially since we have not felt the effects ourselves."
Kylah knows she is not being truthful. She did feel the effects, at least in the induction room. And again when Deschamps was so close to her. But those were isolated incidents, passed along to her remotely, passively. The emotional equivalent of hearsay. It must be an entirely different matter to be fully under the influence of the spores. She cannot imagine such happiness. If such a treatment could erase her fears and anger and disappointment? Offered the same opportunity the guests have, she is not certain she would refuse.
"To be honest," T'Var says, "I do not believe we have gained any useful information from the guests -- or the staff."
The doctor looks around at the assembled group. "Those under the influence of the spores are certainly satisfied. And the staff wants to make a good impression for us."
As Collins and Graham approach, she overhears T'Var's comment. "I'm inclined to agree, Doctor. But let's wait until we get a full security report. Ensign Graham seems to have stumbled upon something." She turns towards Graham and makes a presenting motion, indicating he should fill the others in.
What the flaming fu...? Graham thinks as he approaches the group and the fact fully registers that that Kylah is dressed for the evening in a couple of cocktail napkins held together with string. Well she does look good, he starts to think and then catches himself: And how would you feel, Booker, about a knuckle-dragging mouth breather your age eyeing Elizabeth in an outfit like that? Then: Good god, does Elizabeth wear outfits like that? He realizes that if she did, he'd likely be the last person to know.
He briefly wonders how T'Var feels about this situation, but reminds himself that the Vulcan physician surely has better control over her emotions that he would in her shoes--and of course, Kylah's meeting a dude for dinner so there's no reason to be jealous in any event.
Distracted, he then remembers what he said earlier: old guys like me ought to set a better example.
He fixes his eyes unshakably on Kylah's face and tries to do his best impersonation of the grizzled officer who helped calm him down before his first undercover mission--he'd probably been about the same age as Kylah.
"You have your sidearm ah, handy...ah, somewhere, right, like we discussed?" he says, trying to sound calm and encouraging.
While he's waiting for her to reply, his eyes move only to flick over toward Collins as it suddenly clicks that the lieutenant was gesturing toward him.
Graham's, uh, admiration of Kylah is not lost on Collins. Inwardly she roars with laughter. Outwardly her expression is unchanged.
Not so fortunate was Kylah's response. Did she really consider herself so badly dressed that this was necessary to catch someone's eye. She'd actually looked more beautiful in her uniform, but this outfit and the last one were certainly revealing her inner, and outer, Elasian. Wasn't that her intention? To show how desirable and alluring she was?
Perhaps Rangin would ask her later what she meant by it, but with others around, it wasn't the time.
It's also obvious the others don't share his feeling about the resort, being nothing more than a resort. No hidden evil addictions, just the wealthy begin more privileged than others. And that was still the same the universe over.
Rangin waits to see what the news from Graham is, noticing his glance at Kylah's attire as well.
Kylah nods to Delaney and Graham, avoiding Collins as best she can. She cannot gauge Delaney's expression--considering his obvious admiration of Fastolfe, what a woman wears is possibly of little consequence to him. But Graham seems to be registering a cocktail of disapproval and arousal, which makes Kylah want to hide behind the front desk as it reminds her so much of her uncle--except Aldaan would have added greed and entitlement to the mix, making it all so much worse.
"My phaser is in my purse, along with my communicator, Mr. Graham, though I am sure there will be no need for it," Kylah murmurs, looking down at her gleaming bronze bag and clutching the straps. She does not refer to her knife, firstly because she has never officially reported possessing it, and second because drawing attention to how easily the knife could be accessed will only point out how easily anyone might slip one's hand into her dress. Not that such a thing will occur tonight, but considering what Graham might think after the Ferguson incident...
She falls silent and waits to hear of the security problem.
"Right," Graham mumbles quickly. "Always best to do things by the numbers--I'm sure Lt. Collins already went over protocols for operating undercover in detail."
Speaking of whom, he thinks, putting two and two plus the awkward silence together, he turns in the direction of her gesture. He wants to preface his report with a disclaimer: look people, if you had a daughter exactly Kylah's age you'd be a little distracted too...Does Elizabeth in fact wear outfits like this? He supposes he'd feel better if she were going on dates with a phaser in her purse--unlikely, although it strikes him that maybe he should look into that. He starts feeling some anxiety: his assumption that Elizabeth was safe and sound at school on Earth provided some minimal excuse for his dereliction of duty as a father. Now he fears she's wandering around unarmed in something approaching underwear in clubs filled with lecherous hobgoblin-esque amalgams of rich jackasses like Fastolfe and half the scumbags he's arrested in his career...and I'm fifty goddamned light years away, what the hell am I doing?
He takes a deep breath. "Right, sorry," he says to the group. He tries to keep his voice quiet enough that others in the lobby can't overhear. "So it turns out Miss Hsu's husband Lionel is chief of security. After my, ah, discussion of the knife in front of Wilson I figured she might pass on membership in the Booker Charles Graham fan club, but they both seemed more open when he wasn't around."
"They told us--" he gestures toward Delaney, "that earlier today someone tried to remotely access the resort's security systems. Encrypted, via subspace--no compromise that they detected, and it's the first time that they know of. Source could have been anywhere from local to a couple light years away. They were willing to accept help from the Yorktown in systems monitoring and tracking any further attempts. Vargas is setting that up with Hsu."
He raises two fingers. "Two things occurred to me--one, if WR&R loses this concession, somebody else gets it. That's incentive for some corp to mess with them while we're here. The one that worries me though," he continues, lowering his voice slightly, "is any connection to the Admiral. As head bean counter at Starfleet he could've led an investigation that cost some crooked industrialist or smuggling cartel billions." He glances at Collins. "Now that he's all spored up I'm not sure he'd appreciate being asked if he has any enemies, but maybe we can check his records..." He pauses. For a moment he's truly angry at himself: I should have stayed on Hardin like ugly on an ape this whole time, he thinks ruefully. "Ah, and maybe we should keep closer tabs on him now."
"I'd suggested body guards before the mission started and was shot down. But yeah, we should keep an eye on him. And his aide." Collins is feeling rather disconnected on the whole, but does her best to maintain the illusion that she knows what she's doing. "Has anyone spoken to either of them since the sporing?"
Kylah nods at Graham's report. Such machinations are bread and butter to how she was raised. "The Admiral's position as comptroller should also be noted considering our own role here. If something were to happen to him at this resort, I doubt Starfleet would be inclined to extend the contract. That combines both theories. The timing of his vacation is... odd."
Her mind races. Why did she not consider the strangeness of the timing before? Why is someone in charge of monitoring such contracts staying at the resort when the contracts are due? Is this not a clear conflict of interest, considering the possibility of undue influence--especially if the spores give one an exaggerated sense of peace and well-being?
She pushes the thought aside when Collins speaks. The proof that the mission leader hasn't been in touch with the Admiral gives Kylah a bit of self-righteous pleasure. Now she doesn't feel as bad about reporting her own activities just now at the front desk. At least it will be more proof of who is doing her job here.
"Even without knowing of the security breach I was concerned whether any of us had been in contact with the Admiral. As soon as I arrived at the lobby, I asked the front desk about him, and was told he seems to have had no problems thus far," she says with a nod toward the clerk. "I then took the opportunity to relay a message to the Admiral, a simple reminder that we remain here at his service, and to please be in contact with preferably Lieutenant Collins, or me as communications officer if need be, should he require any assistance."
Kylah shrugs, somewhat defiant. "Of course that does not supercede your own important work, Mr. Graham, in enhancing vigilance. But at a bare minimum, I felt making our presence known might be beneficial."
At least the junior members of the team are doing their duty, she thinks while keeping her gaze firmly on Graham--and away from Collins.
This time Graham doesn't have to concentrate to keep his eyes on Kylah's. He's seen any number of young officers in his long career ranging from the average in appearance to the sexy to the downright hideous or frightening--how they looked didn't matter, how well they did their duty did. She deserves to be treated accordingly. And he's oddly, but meaningfully consoled a bit: so what if Lizzy goes out in dresses made of tinsel and rubber bands? Like her mother, she was always smarter than me. Probably Kylah is too. They'll be OK. He gives her a professional nod of approval and another little but sincere thumbs up.
He nods to Collins as well. "I would have suggested the same thing, L-T." He shakes his head. "Impolitic to send so much firepower, I'm sure." He shrugs and gives her a little encouraging gesture too. "Well, we'll just have to make do. Maybe my new buddy Hsu can help us out with closer surveillance."
Graham chuckles. "I figure Wilson's most interested in not causing any complaints due to 'intrusive' security--but if anything goes bad, Wilson will have every opportunity to put the blame on security for screwing up. But if he ever needs to look for another job, Mr. Hsu's got to have his record as a security chief look solid."
The front desk clerk tells Kylah (before she meets the rest of the landing party), "I'll be glad to pass that message along to Adm. Hardin, ma'am." She makes some notes on a comm screen and looks up with a smile. "Done."
Delaney gives Kylah's dress a discreet and appreciative looking-over but tries not to be too obvious about it. He clears his throat and says, "I was just telling Booker, it can't be coincidence that someone's trying to hack into - or even take control of - the resort's security on the same day the Yorktown arrived."