-
Cooper sits down, bumps Collins with his hip in a friendly way, stretches and pulls out a canteen. He offers a drink to her.
Kylah finds a listing for a musical-instrument repair shop, also in Thoth. She and Rangin beam down and find themselves alone on a quiet street. The shop is just a few steps away.
Woizera, an Ethiopian woman and environmental systems expert, and Davis, a communications specialist from Australia, are sipping coffee and enjoying the sun. "Don't be silly; it's no intrusion," Woizera says to Graham. She gestures to an empty chair as a waiter walks up. "Join us?"
-
Kylah is furious with herself. Why did she tell Velir the zither story before he even asked about it? As a result he clearly expected her to go through with this plan, and so she had to go through the farce of looking up the music shop.
Now they are here and she has no idea what to do. Of course her zither is not broken and she has no desire to break one of the precious crystal strings merely to shore up her story--although she will, if necessary.
She turns nervously to Velir. "I will be just a moment," she says, her voice weak. "There is no need to come in with me. Perhaps there are other shops you can look at in the meanwhile." The feeble attempt to put off the inevitable embarrasses her. She has told far bigger lies to much more frightening people than Velir Rangin. Yet she is acting like an amateur instead of the expert liar she is. Without waiting for him, she heads to the shop.
-
"Uh..." Graham hesitates, then shrugs and smiles slightly. "Sure, a drink wouldn't kill me. At least, not on a planet with a large human population." He takes a seat. "Have you been on the Yorktown long?" he asks them, directing the question at both.
-
Collins takes a swig from the proffered canteen, hands it back, and sighs. "This is a great view. let's hang here a while, then later we can grab some dinner." As she lays back, she clasps her hands and stretches her arms above her head. "Phew!" as she catches a whiff of herself, "after we shower and change." she laughs. Jeremi has not felt this relaxed since before being assigned to the Yorktown. She puts her hands behind her head and watches the clouds as they pass.
-
Kylah, to her relief, finds that the shop's door is locked. The keypad message reads Sorry, closed for the day. Please come back tomorrow..
The cafe waiter asks Graham, "What will you have, sir?"
Woizera says, "We both transferred from the Achilles about eight months ago. We were bunkmates at the Academy and have been lucky enough to be able to stick together since."
Cooper takes the canteen back from Collins, kisses her, takes a swig himself, and lies back next to her. He closes his eyes and basks in the sun. "Whatever you say, Jer, is A-OK with me."
-
"It's my first time here--to your café, and Anubis. Is there anything you'd recommend I try?" Graham asks the waiter.
-
As Rangin sees Kylah standing by the door which obviously is not opening he walks up and peers though one window, the inside is dark and quiet with a few instruments displayed. "I don't see anyone in, I guess its closed." He turns to face her as yet again she looks down, not meeting his gaze.
"You know, you never mentioned you played the zither, it takes a lot of skill as I understand it. If I asked politely, once it has been repaired, would it be possible to see you play it?"
Rangin looks around, the street quiet and the other people around far enough away as to be inconsequential, "And more importantly, I owe you an apology if you are willing to accept it, and an explanation if you are willing to hear it?"
-
Kylah self-consciously holds her bag more closely to her side. "Playing an Elasian zither is difficult, but I am not an expert. Merely passable. But if it would please you, yes, perhaps I will play it for you. Sometime." She is torn between wanting Velir to be kind to her and wishing he would remain aloof, to make her decision easier.
"As for an apology... you do not owe me anything." Her eyes lift to meet his briefly, then return to looking at the empty store. "I put you in an uncomfortable situation and imposed myself on you. I am the one who is sorry." Now she turns to stare up and down the street. "I wonder if there is a pub or bar nearby," she says hurriedly. "I would like to see some local color and those places are usually good options..."
-
The waiter hands Graham a small datapad with a menu listing several dozen kinds of coffee, tea and other mild liquid stimulants, as well as pastries and cakes. He says with a smile, "You can't go wrong with the Anubis Arabica blend, sir, if you like strong but smooth coffee."
After Graham has ordered, Davis says, "We've only been on Anubis once before, a little over a year ago, when the Achilles stopped by. This café wasn't even here then. We just saw it when we beamed down and decided to try it out." She looks at Woizera, then back to Graham. "There are some nice shops and stores in this part of town, and art galleries, too, if you're into that. The museum district is within easy walking distance, and the botanical gardens are worth a look. Memorial Park is great if you want to feel some honest-to-God grass under your feet."
Woizera nods. She sips her coffee and asks, "Were you looking for anything in particular, Mr. Graham?"
A short walk brings Kylah and Rangin to a more lively, crowded street. There are several bars and restaurants; none is a pub, as such.
-
Having accepted the waiter's recommendation, Graham sips his Anubis Arabica blend, which is indeed good.
"You're both one up on me--having been here, and still with your bunkmate from the Academy, both. Of course," he adds, "Most of my Academy class has been fossilized by now."
Or drummed out of the service if they weren't more than an ensign by now, he thinks, but does not say.
He can imagine walking through an art gallery--with Bennett on his arm, because...because she reminds you of Jane.
Despite the fact that the coffee is smooth, he almost chokes on it. He clears his throat and replies to Woizera.
"It's silly. Stupid, really...but I suppose if you could keep your eye out...I'm looking for a snowglobe. You know, the little glass thing you shake?"
Something in the back of his mind is saying "Booker just shut up," but he doesn't. "I was talking to N-- Lt. Onn in the...earlier. When I described Scotland's weather she seemed to like it, which is...ah, rare to say the least. I thought she might find snow...uh, interesting."
-
T'Var will definitely want to visit anything of a cultural nature -- history, music, etc. She would also like to learn more about the inhabitants and their daily lives.
-
Kylah keeps walking a little ahead of Velir and examines each bar they come across. She knows very little about what she is seeking, but enough to know that anyone willing to trade her credits for untraceable cash will not be found in a pleasant, tourist-driven establishment. If there is any bar that looks less respectable, somewhat out-of-the-way, perhaps even rough or seedy, that is the one she will enter.
-
Neither Woizera nor Davis know what a snowglobe is. Davis says apologetically, "Pradell's is a nice, big department store just down the street, and it had a lot of Earth merchandise, as I remember. They might have something like that."
T'Var beams down to the Anubis Historical Center, a very large, ultramodern museum with interesting exhibits on the settlement of the planet. Anubis was discovered and charted by the early Starfleet exploratory ship USS Daedalus, the captain of which was fascinated by Egyptian mythology. The early settlers, who arrived a few years later, had to deal with several varieties of fierce and hungry local predators and recurring epidemics, but eventually tamed the planet and laid the groundwork for its current safety and prosperity. T'Var sees that there are several concert halls and performance spaces not far away with all kinds of different music. The people of Anubis seem, by and large, to be much like the people of any other large Federation world. The great majority of the populace is Human, but there are quite a few Vulcans, Andorians, Rigellians and Tellarites, too, as well as a smattering of other races.
After going down another side street, Kylah sees several bars which look less than reputable. The least presentable of all (although it is a close call) seems to be Ysobel's, which looks like it hasn't been cleaned or painted in a year or three at least. Inside it is dark and dingy. A Bolian bartender looks suspiciously at her when she enters. Two scruffy-looking Human men and one woman are sitting at a table together, talking urgently; they fall silent at the sight of her. The other four tables are empty, as are two booths.
http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Daedalus_class
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No matter how hard he tries to speak to Kylah, she seems distracted by one thing and then another. He wonders what she is really up to as she passes bar after bar and finally stops outside the seediest looking one in the street, although alley would be a better term.
As he follows Kylah into the seedy establishment, he wonders if he should have just painted a large sign above his head saying "TARGET". If he had known they might wind up in a place like this he would have dressed in something more appropriate, instead of remaining in his uniform. Kylah may think they were looking at her, a pretty face always caught the eye, but uniform always made the local patrons wary. Looking around the room, he inwardly groans, this is the sort of place Kylah would walk into, and probably not out of. She would wave her knives around and get laughed at and get taken for everything she had.
On the flipside, it was three shades better than the local student handout on Coridan he used to drink in. Rangin relaxes and grins, folding his arms behind her as he waits to see what kind of crazy stunt Kylah is about to pull.
-
Kylah hesitates when she realizes how few people are in the bar. This will not suit her needs--she cannot speak to anyone privately without Velir seeing. And when she sees the customers' wary expressions, she knows how foolish she was to wear her uniform. Somehow she will have to compensate for this--or find a way to change into one of her other dresses. How will I explain that to Velir?
Although she is about to leave, to her surprise she discovers that Velir has sat himself down at a table, smiling as if he has just found a long-lost friend. He has not smiled like that at me since we played poker, she thinks, and turns back to the patrons to see what--or whom--he finds so enjoyable.
With nothing making itself apparent, Kylah sinks slowly down into the chair opposite him. "I did not think this would be so empty. I was hoping for a busier establishment. To--to get a better feel of the locals," she adds awkwardly. "Perhaps we should go elsewhere?"
-
The bartender, with apparent reluctance, comes over. Kylah cannot help but notice that he smells, even for a Bolian. "What'll you have?" he asks gruffly.
The woman at the other table begins talking to the men, too quietly to be heard. One of the men stares at the two Yorktown officers.
-
Museums and the botanical garden make him think of T'Var, who--as far as he knows--is the only member of the team not attached. Those seem like the kind of places she'd go. He reminds himself to keep an eye out for her if she's on her own and wanted any company.
The other couples are reassuring: Cooper definitely does not seem like the drug-using sort. And it's not like Rangin was the type who would take Kylah to some seedy dive bar down by the docks. Odds are the rest of the team's having some harmless fun...although nothing as epic as the Quest for the Magic Snowglobe, he thinks.
"Pradell's--thanks, that's a good lead," Graham says, finishing his coffee. "I should go check it out." He stands and nods to each of his crewmates. "You two enjoy the rest of this fine afternoon."
Unless there's a reason to remain, Graham heads in the direction of Pradell's at a leisurely pace. Just like being on the beat, he thinks a bit wistfully: police assignments had been among his favorite duties.
-
"Thanks, likewise," the two say, raising their coffees as Graham takes his leave.
Pradell's is about three blocks away. The sun is shining, a cool breeze blows now and then, the sidewalks are full of people, and stylish aircars purr by on the street. Graham gets an occasional curious glance at his uniform, but sees no other Starfleet personnel, and not a single crime being committed. The main lobby of Pradell's is soaringly high and quite noisy as shoppers come and go. He finds his way to the Small Gifts and Keepsakes department and the sales clerk points him to a display case of paperweights, small sculptures and the like. There are three kinds of snowglobes, each of which look nice; the cheapest of them is about half a week's salary for him.
-
Collins awakes with a start. She didn't remember dozing off. She checks her chonometer, it's been two hours since the got to this clearing. She looks over at Cooper who appears to be asleep. She picks some grass blades and lightly sprinkles them on his face, and awaits his reaction.
-
Graham rubs his forehead. This assignment to the Yorktown is certainly turning out to be expensive. Still no point in buying Nia a cheap piece of crap....
He examines the globes. Maybe I am over-complicating this. The Quest for the Magic Snowglobe... That thought reminds him of a children's book, reminds him...
Elizabeth hung to the old, faded red fencepost--as tall as she was--as if her life depended on it. She'd extended one skate toward the frozen surface of the pond, then quickly retracted it. This was Lizzy's first visit to Jane's parents house outside of Boston during the winter: it was an idyllic old New England property, complete with skating pond.
Graham had let Jane--an excellent skater, much better than he was--take a few minutes to enjoy herself on the ice while he started teaching their daughter to skate, figuring "how to stand up" was about his speed as a teacher.
"Don't worry, I won't let you fall," Graham said encouragingly. Lizzy's glare back said she wasn't convinced...
She'd only a fallen a few times, and Graham was quick enough to smother her and turn on the way down so she landed on him.
"That was kind of fun," the third time that happened. Graham grunted as affectionately as he could grunt.
He clears his throat and returns his attention to the display. Nia likes to swim so much--what would she make of ice skating?
If there's a globe with a kid or kids ice skating, he picks that one, or the closest to it.
-
Kylah looks over at Velir, wondering if he might wish to order first. He seems comfortable in these surroundings, which is surprising, but it is clear they know little about each other... just as he said last night.
She returns to the Bolian and searches her mind for something appropriate. "Do you have Andorian ale?" Eyeing the room, she swallows and tries to make conversation. "I suppose it is early in the day for drinking. Does it tend to get busier here later on?"
-
Cooper's nose wrinkles as the grass blades fall on his face and he shifts a little in his sleep, but doesn't wake up.
One of the snowglobes shows two children, a boy and a girl from the looks of it (although they are tiny), skating on a frozen pond in front of an old-fashioned mill. It's cute and seems well-made. The sales clerk removes it from the case for Graham and takes his thumbprint for payment, drawing on his shipboard account. "Would you like it gift-wrapped, Ensign?" she asks.
The bartender grunts. "Andorian ale? Sure." To Kylah's second question he says, "Yeah, usually. A few hours from now, it can get crowded. Why?"
The people at the other table have stopped talking and now seem to be listening to Kylah and the bartender. The man keeps staring.
-
Kylah orders the ale and, in response to the Bolian's question, gives a tight shrug. "I have never been to Anubis before. I am interested in meeting the people who live and work here. Not just those a tourist might see. Unfortunately I will not be here in a few hours."
The stranger staring at them does not alarm her. Perhaps he does not trust Starfleet. Perhaps Velir reminds him of someone. There are any number of reasons someone would look at us. On the other hand, he might also have connections that could be useful to her. The bartender is the one to ask, but she can hardly do so in front of Velir.
"I beg your pardon," she says, both to Velir and the Bolian. "Before you get our drinks, sir, can you tell me if is there a restroom I might use?"
If there is, she will hopefully have to walk past the other table to get there--and if so, she will do so, attempting to determine precisely what emotions are emanating from the group of strangers.
-
Graham smiles slightly. "You recognize the rank insignia? Do you know someone in Starfleet?" he asks. "And, ah, yes, gift-wrapped would be good, thanks."
-
Collins, now with her legs tucked under her tailor style, picks up a few small pebbles and drops them, one at a time, onto Cooper's chest. She sits back, smiles, and waits.
-
Rangin is still wondering what Kylah, this is definitely a new side to her, he didn't know about. Maybe they did have more in common than he thought.
"Nice place. I'll take a Cordas Pale, if you have it?" he politely enquires of the bartender with a flash of toothy grin.
Rangin gives an acknowledging nod across to the guy who is staring at them and sees if there is any response.
-
"Andorian ale and Cordas Pale, all right." The bartender gestures towards the back, which Kylah presumes means a restroom is there. As she passes the table with the others, she has a general sense of furtiveness and hostility. The staring man, in particular, is very hostile. He does not nod back to Rangin.
The sales clerk smiles. "My cousin is in Starfleet. No braid on the cuff means ensign or below, right?" She begins to wrap the snowglobe.
Cooper stirs and wakes. He squints in the sunshine, and smiles at Collins. "Pelting me with stones, huh? Never been woken that way before."
-
"I thought I'd try something new," Collins says. She kisses Cooper and springs to her feet. "Race you back down?" She asks playfully.
-
T'Var heads to the nearest concert hall. She will check out the schedule of performances.
The doctor enjoys all types of music, but would definitely like to try something new. She is certain someone will be able to provide her with more information.
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Graham chuckles. "Can't go much lower," he replies. "Tell your cousin Ensign Booker Graham will buy 'em a drink if we cross paths."
-
On edge after what she has sensed from the man at the table, Kylah glances back at Velir--whom she sees smiling at the strangers--and cannot help giving a little warning shake of her head. Of course he cannot know what she means, but the gesture is automatic. Then she hurries into the restroom, which appears to match the rest of the bar. She does nothing but wash her hands and look in the mirror, trying to take up a few minutes before leaving.
Look at you. She stares at her reflection. Eyes still red from crying and lack of sleep, her skin blanched except for the circles under her eyes, and an expression that seems haunted even to her. No wonder Velir turned her down last night, if she looked even half this miserable. He is a generally good-natured, even-tempered man. Kylah and all the ghosts that cling to her will not be able to satisfy him, either personally or sexually.
As much as she cares for him, and as desperately as she wanted to give everything of herself to him, the truth is, having his hands on her last night was torture. Intellectually, she knew it was Velir who was kissing and caressing her, but viscerally it was Jan. What man would want a woman who cannot distinguish him from a single night's horrific mistake?
She closes her eyes briefly. All this is getting her nowhere. She does not know if she can serve on this ship anymore, and she wants the opportunity to escape, even if she does not go through with it yet. There will be another planet or starbase at some point, she thinks. If she does not have the courage to flee now, she will at least be ready when the chance presents itself again.
After running her cold, damp hands across her face and through her hair, Kylah ventures out of the restroom in hopes that the Bolian will be back behind the bar. If he is, she will attempt to speak with him as far away from Velir as possible.
-
"You're on," Cooper says, clambering to his feet a bit more slowly, grabbing his stuff and starting after Collins.
T'Var finds the Thoth Symphony Hall not far away. There is an open rehearsal for Godwinson's 2102 opera Mrs. FitzSimmons and Mr. Bell. The doctor slips into the back of the hall and listens in. She is unfamiliar with the piece; it seems to be about a couple's doomed affair just before Earth's Eugenics Wars.
The sales clerk smiles at Graham. "I'd be glad to. What ship do you serve on? He's an engineer on the Shanghai."
Just as Kylah is leaving the restroom - which is, indeed, just as nasty as the rest of the bar; she's glad for her Starfleet full-spectrum immunizations - she hears retching coming from one of the three stalls. She bends down a little and sees the heels and lower legs of someone hunched over the toilet.
-
Kylah is both repelled and startled--she did not realize anyone was in the room with her. It is unlike her to be so unaware of another's presence, especially given this person's state. Maybe that is why she herself felt so bad? Kylah dismisses the thought; she knows she is responsible for her own unhappiness.
Gnawing on her lip, she waits until there is a break in the unfortunate noise. "Pardon me," she begins, her voice tentative. "Do you... do you need any help?" Please say no, please say no... she prays, glancing longingly toward the exit and then back to the stall. "Is there something I can get you?"
-
"It's always good to stay on the good side of engineers--them, and medical of course. I'm on the Yorktown," Graham replies.
"Say, speaking of drinks--is there a bar you'd recommend near here?." He shrugs, admitting to himself he doesn't have any other ideas for what to do now that he has the globe. "I guess I might as well make the most of being off duty."
-
Back at the beginning of the hikers' trail, Collins stretches while she waits for Cooper to catch up. When he does, she runs to him and jumps into his arms and kisses him. When he puts her back down, she says "So, let's go back to the ship and get ready for lunch, yeah? I'll bet there are some really interesting restaurants here."
-
Kylah hears the person retch again and then pant hoarsely. "No... s'alright... I'm...." It sounds like a woman's voice. She begins throwing up again, quite copiously, from the sound of it.
The sales clerk tells Graham, "I like the Park Plaza bar. It's about a ten-minute walk from here."
-
Graham thanks the clerk, makes arrangements for the wrapped snow globe to be sent to his quarters on Yorktown, and heads at a leisurely pace toward the Park Plaza.
Along the way he keeps his eyes open for any local Starfleet or local law enforcement personnel, always interested in "talking shop" about a new place.
-
Kylah straightens, worried. "Just a moment, you do not sound all right." She leaves the restroom and, as much as she does not wish to, approaches the table of strangers. "Excuse me," she says softly. "I do not mean to interrupt, but is there another woman in your party? If so she appears to be quite ill. You may wish to check on her."
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Cooper has worked up a sweat. He wipes his brow, says, "Sounds good," and pulls out his communicator.
Graham also contacts the ship and has the giftwrapped snowglobe beamed up. He doesn't see any other Starfleet personnel, but does see a pair of Thoth police officers, in dark gray uniforms with shiny silver badges on their chests, at a busy intersection.
In the bar, the woman at the table swears, stands up and goes into the restroom.
-
Having performed her good deed of the day--such as it was--Kylah gives a weak but likely ineffective smile to the remaining strangers and backs up a bit. She then turns to the bar, where she looks for the Bolian and, with a lifting of her hand, asks, "Pardon me, sir. Do you mind if I ask you a question? In private, please, if you would," she adds with a quick sidelong glance at Velir.
-
The bartender doesn't budge. He looks suspicious. "What about? Is this an investigation?"
-
Kylah walks closer to the bar and her fingers clasp its edge, pressing down until the tips are a bloodless white. "No, it is personal. It has nothing to do with Starfleet or your business or... or anything like that. It is personal," she repeats more urgently. She is very aware that Velir must be wondering what is going on.
Her voice lowers, and she hopes the bartender can hear her; it is probably likely that the strangers might be listening as well, but she cares less about them than Velir. "I need a favor, or--or guidance, that might be the better word. And I do not wish my friend to know about it."
-
Graham ambles over to the Thoth police officers. "Afternoon," he says, pointing briefly upward toward orbit. "Graham...on shore leave for the day from USS Yorktown Security." He gestures around the area. "Seems like a nice place so far," he shrugs slightly. "How are things On the Job here?"
-
Once back on board the ship, Collins asks Cooper, "So, back here in 15?"
-
The bartender lowers his voice, as well, although he still seems suspicious. "What kind of 'guidance' do you have in mind, lady?"
The cops give Graham the once-over, and the shorter of the two raises his helmet's dark visor, nods and says, "Officer Baker, Thoth Constabulary. This is Officer Kwan. Welcome to Thoth, Mr. Graham. Yeah, it's not bad. This is a nice part of town and most folks are pretty well-behaved. Petty thefts and an occasional medical call are the most excitement we have. Sometimes a fight." Kwan continues looking over the crowd as it goes by.
Cooper says, "Righto." He goes off to shower and change.
-
Kylah's hopes rise a little and she speaks quickly. "It is nothing illegal, just secret. I wish to exchange credits for cash--ideally gold-pressed latinum, but any usable currency would do. I would need a significant amount. And I need the transaction to be untraceable, or difficult to trace, because no one must know about it for some time. Perhaps a third party would have to be involved?"
She shakes her head helplessly. "That is the guidance I need. Given your job, you must get many different types of customers in here, including some who want to--be anonymous. Who want to leave the planet quickly. That sort of thing. And so I thought you might know or have heard about someone who could help?" After a slight hesitation, she hastens to add: "I am aware I must surely pay extra for this exchange. Some percentage above the amount of cash I would get back. And I am willing to do so, I just do not know how."
-
Graham nods empathetically: a quiet part of town is a double-edged sword. Less of the real ugly shit, but barking dog complaints and lost tourists can get old.
He instinctively adjusts his behavior, sliding into a converse-and-observe mode as if he'd just been assigned to their corner. "Fights--heh, I'm off the clock now but I've pulled plenty of watches where one of our crew letting off steam gets a bit carried away, ah...interacting...with the locals." He chuckles slightly. "But I'm pretty sure with the group that's down here from Yorktown we won't have any of that today."
He muses about his colleagues: who'd be the catalyst? T'Var--well, T'Var most likely can kick some serious ass, but is probably able to keep herself under control. Rangin-- He tries to imagine Rangin as a mean drunk. All that comes to mind is Rangin as he is, but with his witty repartee slightly slurred.
-
Velir sits back in the booth, hand wrapped round the glass on the table and looks through the gloom. As his eyes adjust he can feel the ambiance soaking in a like damp sponge down the back of the neck. This was a different kind of alive, not a straightforward standup bravery or heart-thumping flush of love kind of alive. No, this was that nerve-jangling, twitchy, nothing-to-do-with-me feeling where everyone would swear blind afterwards they saw nothing. At least the drink wasn't as watered down as he was gong to expect.
The one man staring at him obviously either didn't like outsiders or more likely didn't like the uniform. Really didn't like the uniform. The group of three, now two after Kylah spoke to them could be here for a variety of reasons. Criminals, the local drunk squad, or just some who didn't want to be disturbed, Velir wasn't sure, but they would be as likely as any to keep their heads down.
And finally, Kylah talking to the bartender in low tones and hunched over trying to be as insignificant as possiible. A curled smile crosses his face, she didn't really know what she was doing. A nervous newbie in an establishment like this is a recipe for trouble, even though everyone had to start somewhere. Velir remembered his own introduction to establishments like this, a smoky cesspit called Pallota's, where the only cleaning done was to wipe up the bloodstains. It had taken him and his friends a few regular nights and buying several rounds of drinks for the locals for them to even consider being accepted.
That didn't change the fact that whatever she was doing was not something she was used to. As he keeps watching the room, he watches the conversation between Kylah and the bartender waiting to see what occurs.
In fact why would she head into a place like this?
-
Freshly showered, Collins pulls her wet hair into a pony tail, throws on a clean uniform, and runs back to Transporter Room 3, barely ahead of Cooper. Once the two of them are on the pads, she tells the transporter tech "Put us down in the center of town, please."
-
The bartender rubs his chin and leans closer. "Never heard of gold-pressed latinum, but for a hundred Fedcreds I'll call a guy who might be able to help you."
Officer Baker nods. "Good to know. Starfleet folk usually aren't much trouble, but of course there's an exception to every rule. You a cop yourself, before you joined the Fleet?"
Two women emerge from the hallway leading to the restroom, the woman who had been at the table and her sick friend, and both sit down at the table. The man who was staring at Rangin turns his attention to them. They talk quietly. The sick woman does not look healthy at all.
Collins and Cooper beam back down into central Thoth. About 90 minutes remain in their shore leave.
-
"What are you in the mood for?" Collins ask Cooper. "I'm game to try something unusual." She looks around at the store fronts for clues as to which may be a good one to choose.
-
T'Var listens intently to the opera rehearsal. She is not sure whether she likes this type of musical performance. However, she will keep an open mind and continue with it for a while longer.
There are always other cultural options available to her if she does not find this one enjoyable.
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Kylah hesitates. Can the man be telling her the truth? Perhaps in this sector they do not have much use for gold-pressed latinum, but certainly elsewhere it is valued as the only currency that cannot be replicated.
At least he is offering to help. And what is a hundred credits to her? She nods. "Thank you, I would be grateful if you could contact this person. I suppose... perhaps it would be easiest to let me pay you for the drinks now, and you can simply add the extra to the bill. My friend need not know. Will that be all right?"
If he agrees, she will make the transaction with her thumb. Meanwhile she notices the sick woman. Perhaps I should call T'Var, she thinks worriedly. But then again, maybe Velir can help--he seems to have medical knowledge. She turns to the bartender. "Is there any nearby health clinic, or something similar? That woman at the table--she seems quite ill. She might need assistance."
-
After discussing the various options with Collins, Cooper selects a bistro offering Anubisian cuisine. The dining room is bright and airy and the seats are comfortable. Looking over your menus, you see that fish and sea molluscs are quite popular locally.
Dr. T'Var may stay and listen to the rehearsal, or venture forth to find something else.
The bartender glances over and scoffs, "Maggie? Nah, she'll be all right. She just likes her Denobulan shandy a bit too much." He rubs his chin. "Did I say a hundred? I meant, uh, three hundred."
-
Eyeing the bartender in distaste, Kylah straightens to her full height--admittedly, not a very imposing figure: "Two hundred, then. That seems fair for a simple contact--and I must keep some in order to pay for the transaction."
During all this she makes a quick calculation. There are at least 14,700 more credits at her disposal before her account might be flagged for suspicious activity by her Guardian's treasurer. Of course she is not foolish enough to let this greedy man know the extent of her wealth.
"Will that be enough?" she asks, lifting her chin. "If that will not do for you, I am sure there are other such gathering places I can go."
-
"Two fifty," he says. "I'm taking a risk here, you know."
The bar's door whisks open. Two ratty-looking men come in, see Rangin and then Kylah, widen their eyes, turn on their heels and leave.
The bartender chuckles. "Plus you're not that good for business. No offense."
-
Unwilling to haggle over an amount that would not buy a scarf back on Elas, Kylah sighs as if she has been defeated. "Very well, yes. My shore leave only lasts another 90 minute, I do not have time... so please, run up the bill and let me pay it." She hesitates and then hastily adds: "I am going to tell my friend we were talking about the sick woman. If asked, please back me up on that? Thank you."
Assuming he finally allows her to swipe her thumb and make the payment, Kylah will do so and return to Velir.
-
"Other way around," Graham replies. "Had some assignments back to the United Earth Police Commission while in the 'Fleet." He shrugs and smiles slightly. "In the blood, I guess--some of my ancestors are what passes for a well-worn stereotype on Earth, "Irish cops in Boston" all the way back four centuries ago." He pauses for a second, then asks, curious. "Police work run in families here, or more like just any other job?"
-
Collins orders Fileon de plateso plenigita kun herboj, which turns out to be herb stuffed flounder, and Cooper orders Braseado veneras kun citrono butero, which is scallops in lemon butter. Both come with salads of curly colorful lettuces and a ginger flavored dressing. Both meals are artfully presented, and delicious.
-
Velir continues to watch the conversation in amusement and, while Kylah may be being as discrete as possible, the bartender is more of an open book. He doubts the discussion is over the quality of the ale she had ordered, more likely to be over whatever she came into this establishment for. The rapid appearance of the two gentleman and their just as rapid exit, confirms just how unwanted Kylah and he are in this place.
Velir continues to relax in his seat and takes another sip of his drink waiting to see what kind of story Kylah is going to tell him, or rather, what she isn't going to tell him.
-
"All right, agreed," the bartender says. "I'll make the call now. And don't worry, I'll cover for you with your 'friend.'" He winks. Kylah transfers the funds from her shipboard account by thumbing his paypad. As she returns to her table, the bartender lifts a small communicator to his lips and speaks quietly; she can't hear what he says.
The man who had been staring at Rangin helps Maggie, the sick woman, to her (unsteady) feet, and they leave. The other man and woman remain, drinking and talking quietly.
The Thoth constable tells Graham, "There are some families which tend to produce cops, but not that many. It's a job but not a crusade for most people, you know? I'm the first cop in my family, for instance."
Collins and Cooper are having a tasty meal indeed.
-
After they eat, and the bill is paid, Collins and Cooper exit the restaurant. "Do we have time for a little window shopping?" she asks him.
-
Kylah sits back down at the table, picking up her drink as soon as she is seated. "I apologize for the delay, Velir," she says quietly, watching the strangers leave the bar. "That woman who just left? When I was in the restroom, I heard her--being sick. Violently so. She would not let me help her so I told her friends, and was trying to convince the bartender to get some medical assistance, but..." She shakes her head. "He did not take me seriously. At least now they have taken her somewhere--I hope it is straight home, and that they replenish her fluids with something other than alcohol."
Having finished her tale--which is mostly true, if not the whole truth--Kylah takes a long sip of the ale, realizes even before she swallows that it tastes terrible, but forces herself to drink until it is half-finished. Then she sets it down on the table again, gasping a little for breath. "How--how is your... what did you order again?"
-
"Well, I hope it's a long and happy career," Graham replies, nodding. "And I'd better get going to the Park Plaza Bar or I won't make it before my time here is up. Doesn't sound like the kind of place where I'll run into any troublemakers, but I'll be sure to call the Thoth Constabulary if I do," he adds, smiling slightly.
Assuming the office doesn't have anything else to say, Graham continues on his way.
-
"Aah," is Velir's brief reply to Kylah's story, "very noble of you indeed." He holds the drink up looking at it glisten through the glass. "This is a Cordas Pale, its travelled pretty well, but then I'm used to the original."
Taking a draught and settling it back on the table, Velir look straight at Kylah, "So, did you get whatever it was you needed to sort out, completed?"
-
Kylah swallows another, much smaller gulp of her ale. "There is nothing noble about me, not personally," she says, looking down at her glass. "I admit I told the bartender I would pay for our drinks. I thought... it was the least I could do after what happened. I just wanted to say I am sorry for making such a fool of myself. Again. And for making you feel uncomfortable. I acted like a... like everything everyone has always thought about me."
She tries to meet his gaze but only succeeds for a few seconds. "If I do not get a chance to tell you again, before... before shore leave is over... I truly am sorry."
-
Cooper takes Collins's hand. "Of course. Lead the way."
The cop gives Graham a wave. "Hope you have a good visit, sir. Nice to talk to you."
Three men in cheap-looking suits enter the bar. One looks surprised to see the two Starfleet officers there, but quickly recovers. They sit together in one of the booths. The bartender comes over and takes their order, then returns shortly with nine shots of what looks like whiskey. They begin drinking and talking. Their voices do not quite carry.
-
Collins and Cooper walk past several shops, stopping at a few to look over the wares. One shop in particular catches Collins' eye. The window display features small wooden carvings. She drags Ben inside and examines several different pieces. She buys two: a cat poised to pounce, and small harp. She asks the cashier to put the harp in a nice box with a ribbon and bow. "Ensign Kylah gave me a gift while we were at OCIII," she tells her boyfriend, "I want to give her something, too." The two pieces cost a little more than Collins was hoping to pay, but worth it, she thinks.
Jeremi takes her purchase, and Ben's hand, and says "Probably time to head back." She smiles as they head to a relatively clear area to return to the ship. Before she calls for return transport, she gives Ben a long hug, and a quick but sincere kiss. "This has been the greatest afternoon I have had since before I entered the Academy. Thank you." She opens up her communicator. "Collins to Yorktown. Two to beam up." She is still smiling at Ben as her atoms are taken apart and then reassembled in Transporter Room 3.
-
Graham picks up his pace a bit, hoping to arrive at the bar in time to have a leisurely drink rather than slamming one down...
-
Velir shuffles around a bit in the booth to sit a little closer to Kylah. "No Kylah, you have nothing to be sorry for," he begins gently, "what happened was my fault, not yours. Yes, I was uncomfortable, but you do not have yourself to blame for that in any way." He sips on the drink slightly and places it back to the table. "You didn't make a fool of yourself, it was me. I'm pretty sure anyone else in that situation would not have acted the way I did and I am truly sorry for how it ended."
Velir smiles, "Listen to us, both claiming responsibility for a bad event, each more determined than the other that it was their fault. If it makes you feel any better, we both got it wrong and I would at least like to try and make it up to you, at least my part in it, at some point. Interested?"
-
Kylah's heart pounds at Velir's words, and she forces herself to look up at him. Can I believe him? He is kind enough to lie about this... but maybe he is sincere after all. She realizes her ability to trust people has almost always been contingent on her reading their emotions, and her self-imposed restriction against doing so with Velir leaves her at a disadvantage.
If only I could just be sure... just once... Kylah almost squirms with the struggle to curtail her powers. How do others stand such indecision? Such lack of understanding of what is going on within the people around them? Her skills are not always accurate, in that they do not tell the full picture or range of someone else's feelings. But at least they tell her something. Now all she has is what Velir has said, which could be pure politeness or an attempt to gain another chance to sleep with her. And also his expression, which is pleasant and gentlemanly. As was Jan's. As is her Uncle's.
She knows she can never be sure, and she is terrified of the risk. The results could be so many benefits and so many harsh consequences. If she follows through on her plan she can avoid getting close to anyone. It will mean she will never know such bliss as when Velir kissed her in the gardens on OC3. But it also ensures that she will never face such hurt again as she did last night. Nor, she acknowledges suddenly, will I keep causing Velir pain and trouble the way I do.
"Yes," she says, somehow feeling more miserable than before. "I... I would like to make it up to you as well, if I can." She fingers her glass, contemplating whether to drink the rest. "I am just not sure how it is possible."
-
Back on the Yorktown, Cooper says, "Thanks, I had a great time, too. See you around." He returns her kiss with interest.
Graham makes his way through the downtown crowds and finds the Park Plaza - a very nice luxury hotel, inspired by its Earth original - without too much difficulty. Its bar is long, low, plush, hushed and cool. He has about an hour before he is due back on the ship. A waitress smiles warmly and says, "Welcome to the Park Plaza, sir. What may I get you?"
-
Graham admires the bar and whistles softly, impressed. Although "Shit, I hope my drink doesn't cost as much as that snow globe" does pop into his head.
"Well, I'm, ah, partial to whisky...do you have something nice and peaty from Earth?" he pauses. "Or for that matter I suppose this planet's as good any for distilling...is there a local whisky you recommend?" He shrugs slightly and then nods. "Not a bad idea to try something new, it's my first time on Anubis."
-
The waitress says, "We have several dozen whiskies to choose from, sir." She shows him a menu pad; the prices are high but not shockingly so. "A local favorite is Bastet Select Prime Bourbon. It's one of our top sellers."
Graham notices that the bar is about half full at midday. Several people are having meals at tables and nicely-upholstered booths.
-
"Well then, make it so," Graham answers, settling in at the bar at a good spot to watch what's going on...in this case, more for entertainment value than security surveillance.
-
"Then we are both facing the same quandary, no idea who to make up for a mistake we both believe we made, but wanting to do so all the same." Velir leans back into the seat almost lost in thought, wondering what he could, or perhaps should, do next.
"Actually, I do have one question, why are we here? I mean, if you were looking to take me somewhere to remind me of home, you succeeded. But I didn't think this would be your kind of establishment?"
Velir looks across to see what Kylah will say.
-
Kylah blinks, not entirely sure why she is surprised by the question. Of course she was expecting it earlier, but somehow she has convinced herself that since Velir did not speak up before, he thought nothing unusual of the place.
"This just seemed like a... local establishment. Not something for tourists. I thought it would be refreshing after all the false glamor of OC3. Besides, it was nearby." She glances back around the room, pretending to look at everyone but mostly focusing on the bartender. Is he expecting his cohort soon? Will she have to meet this person somewhere? Oh! I should have insisted on that. I do not want a stranger coming up to us... Her nervousness unwinds when she remembers that she asked for discretion. Surely the bartender understood. This is hardly likely to be his first time arranging such deals.
She returns to Velir, picks up the drink and this time does drain the last of the awful ale. It tastes marginally less awful this time around. When done she sets the glass down a bit heavily. "I cannot tell if you are unhappy to be reminded of home," she adds, peering at him. "I did not realize Coridan was this--" She stops before she says ugly and adjusts it to: "--unpretentious. Rustic."
-
Before returning to duty, Collins stops at her quarters and places the boxed gift on Kylah's bunk. She then returns to her station on the the Bridge.
-
The waitress gets Graham's thumbprint for payment and brings him his Bastet Select whisky. It's pretty good - not as good as Earth's finest, but pretty good. Things are quiet in the bar. The patrons are all prosperous and well-dressed; Graham has the sense that most of them are businesspeople or professionals, with a sprinkling of tourists. The waitress and two waiters quietly and efficiently circulate, serving them.
Collins finds that all is quiet on the Bridge. Capt. Singh is apparently still with her two guests from other ships; Cmdr. Vargas is in the big chair. He says, "Welcome back, Mr. Collins. Did you have a good time below?"
Five minutes pass, then ten. Kylah's contact has not shown up.
-
"Yes, sir" Collins replies "I had a wonderful time. Thank you." She is still happy and feeling relaxed. She tries not to let thoughts of her afternoon distract her from the panels in front of her, but it is difficult.
-
Increasingly anxious, Kylah excuses herself from Velir, claiming in a murmur that she wishes to order another drink. Heading to the bartender, she examines him critically. Has he played her for a fool? "Excuse me. Please get me another ale. And while you do, tell me: Did you get in touch with your contact? Do I need to meet him somewhere?"
Kylah watches the Bolian and concentrates on his emotions, using all the pent-up mental skill she has been dying to use on Velir. "Are you attempting to swindle me? Because I will cancel those credits if you do not fulfill our agreement."
-
T'Var decides to stay a bit longer. She has always believed in giving something new a chance.
-
The watch passes uneventfully on the Bridge for Vargas, Collins and the others. Anubis's skies remain just as crowded. The small liner Liszt Rhapsody arrives from Rodel VI and takes up an orbital slot not far away from the Yorktown.
The bartender scowls. "I reached him and he said he'd come here. And you can't cancel the credits - they're already transferred." He pours another ale for Kylah.
The rehearsal continues with some stops and starts as T'Var listens. The lead soprano appears to be having some difficulties with the upper range of her voice, and she and the conductor confer from time to time.
Graham sees the Yorktown's Lt. JG Faraz Pourtash walk by on the sidewalk, outside the bar's large street-level windows, holding hands with a pretty girl whom Graham does not recognize. Both are in civilian clothes.
-
Kylah scowls back at the Bolian. She takes her glass and then, realizing it was rude of her not to request something for Velir, requests another Cordas for him, after which she adds under her breath, "Very well. I hope he hurries. But please, I cannot be seen speaking with him. When he arrives can you instruct him to go..." She shakes her head in ignorance. "Is there somewhere nearby, where I can meet him discreetly? A park or a quiet street or anything?"
-
"You can use the office here," he says, with some irritation. Kylah can tell she's trying his patience, too. "It's just down the hall."
-
"Thank you," Kylah says flatly. I am sorry if my hundreds of credits is causing you an inconvenience. Assuming the bartender gives her the Cordas ale she asked for, she will take it back to Velir and sits down, smiling weakly. "I thought you might like another. For the road," she adds, remembering the Earth expression. "I suppose our leave is up very shortly. I wonder what we are doing here on Anubis anyway... I have not been told, have you?"
-
Graham sips his drink, his mind wandering from Pourtash to his colleagues. Rangin probably dragged Kylah to a taxidermy exhibit, he muses. He can easily imagine Bennett with a parasol as a sunshade, anachronistically attired in 18th-century Terran clothes, waving to him along a leafy promenade...Onn, on the other hand....she'd fit in well in a cocktail dress in one of the schmancy booths over there...
But where do you fit in, Booker? he wonders, taking another sip. He checks the time. Back on the ship, most likely, just doing your job.
He nurses his drink, not having anywhere to go but not feeling the need to rush back to the ship until his time is up.
-
It was nearby, Kylah's words ring false seeing as they had passed a few establishments on the way, let alone anything near as expensive as those on OCIII. No, she was here for a reason and not telling him.
"I would hardly describe Coridan as rustic, seeing as most places are mining villages not farms. It does have some beautiful unspoilt countryside though, there aren't enough people on Coridan to ruin it all." Velir thinks back to a few of the places he had been on his travels. It was just a shame most of them involved snow. "Perhaps one day, I may even get to show you."
As Kylah heads for the bar, Velir watches carefully, noting the bartender is a little less happy with her, but also notices the drinks coming back. He downs the rest of the first drink and takes a sip from the second when it arrives. "Thank you and yes, I guess we should be leaving shortly. We'll be expected back soon, so I guess we had better drink quickly."
Velir rises from the table "Excuse me for a moment, I'll be back shortly." He takes two steps towards the restrooms before turning back and whispering quietly to Kylah over the table, "Please Kylah take care and don't get in over your head. With whatever it is that you are doing." He straightens up and heads off to the restrooms.
-
Kylah feels numb at Velir's whispered caution. She has no idea how he knows, but... of course he does. She has little chance of fooling him; he is older and what little he has implied about his past indicates he is someone who has dealt with covert operations. Should I cancel? If only this stupid bartender's contact will just get here before Velir gets back....
As if on cue, a man enters the bar, meets the bartender's eye and follows his jerk of the head to go down the hall. Kylah notices the bartender casting a pointed look at her as he swipes a dingy rag across the counter. Her heart beats furiously and she takes a long drink from her second glass for courage. At last she jumps to her feet and hastens off. She pauses almost infinitesimally as the bartender murmurs under his breath, "Down the hall. Downstairs. Office right at the bottom."
Kylah just blinks an acknowledgement and moves swiftly to follow his instructions. She takes care when moving past the restrooms, not wanting to be heard by anyone inside. She goes downstairs and ses a single door there. As she takes a deep breath, it opens.
Sitting behind the desk in the shabby office is a nondescript Human, neither handsome nor ugly, with dark hair turning to gray but of indeterminate age. He says, "Sorrl told me you had a certain transaction in mind. What can I do for you, miss?"
Kylah clutches her bag for mental support. "I need--" She cuts herself off when her nervousness turns her voice to a croak. Clearing her throat, she starts again. "I need to exchange Federation credits for cash. And I wish this exchange to be... difficult to trace. I am not sure how one does that, but the bartender seemed to think you might?"
He thinks for a moment, then nods. "Yes, I could do that, but it doesn't come cheap. And why does a Starfleet officer want to do that? You'll pardon me for being a little skeptical... or suspicious."
"It is a personal reason. I must spend money on something that I do not wish my family to know about. My account is... is not private." Kylah flushes. It is shameful--here she is, an adult, and yet her money is watched over as if she is a child with an allowance. The need to ignore her embarrassment makes her bold. "With respect, sir, you are being illogical. I am not aware that it is illegal to exchange funds. And most of all, if I were attempting some sort of--trap, or whatever you fear this might be, why would I come here dressed like this?" She looks down at her uniform and shakes her head. "I have my issues with Starfleet, but they are not that incompetent."
He rubs his chin. "You'd be surprised. If it's not illegal, why did you ask for me to come here, and why don't you speak freely in front of your friend out there?" At Kylah's widened eyes, he continues. "Yes, Sorrl told me there are two of you. Why all the cloak-and-dagger?"
Kylah lowers her gaze for a few seconds. "Because my friend would not approve," she says softly. "There is something I must do--or I might do--and neither Starfleet, my family, nor my friend, would let me be if they knew about it." She lifts her head to stare at the man. "I would tell you, but I think it is better for you if I do not. If anyone does trace my activities, you can truthfully say you have no information for them. I promise, sir, if there is a risk, it is a small one, and it is my own." She cannot tell if she is making a good case. "Money is not an object, within reason. I can pay what you ask." Hesitantly she lowers her bag. "If you do not wish the credits, I have jewelry."
"Credits will do. How much do you have in mind, and what currency do you want instead?"
The question gives Kylah pause. "I was considering 5000 credits to start with, but the amount will depend on what you charge. As for currency... I suppose whatever is as universal as possible. I thought gold-pressed latinum would be best, but the bartender claimed he had not heard of it. Perhaps he was overcautious? I know it is highly valued among those who wish to keep transactions private. If you do not have that, then perhaps Andorian crowns? United States dollars?" She stops abruptly and looks the man up and down, concerned. "Do you truly carry such amounts of varied currency around with you?"
"No, but I can get it for you. Latinum is hard to come by around here. Crowns I could get you in, say, an hour. Dollars would take three or four hours. My fee is one-fifth of the amount to be changed, so a thousand credits. You give me six, I give you the equivalent of five back in the alternate currency."
Kylah's heart sinks. "An hour," she repeats, glancing worriedly down to her chronometer to see when she must return to the Yorktown. "I do not have that much time on the planet. I would have to...." I would have to disobey orders. To stay down here longer than allowed. Unless I could somehow go back and then return. But what if I cannot contrive a way to do so? Silently, she weighs her options, none of them appealing. "Is there truly no way to get the cash sooner? Could I go with you to--to wherever you are getting the money?"
He chuckles. "I don't think so. Tell you what: I'll set up an account for you at the Federation Bank. You thumb the credits over to me now, I make a deposit in crowns once I have them. You can withdraw it from any branch in the quadrant."
-
T'Var's mind wanders as she continues to watch the opera rehearsal. What are her crewmates doing right now? Perhaps she should leave the concert hall and find out.
-
The rehearsal grinds to a halt as the conductor and diva confer yet again. Voices are raised and it appears that they are quarreling. The other cast members shift uncomfortably on their feet; T'Var notices a few rolling their eyes.
T'Var, Rangin, Kylah and Graham all have about 45 minutes before they're due back on the ship.
-
Graham finishes his drink and decides spending the next 45 brooding probably isn't the best use of time.
He pays, thanks the server, and asks where some of the top cultural attractions are in town--figuring if T'Var's anywhere, she'd be there. And that I'd be a fifth wheel with either Collins/Ben or Kylah/Rangin.
He heads in that direction, figuring he's got at least a half hour to wander around while still having time to get back in the groove for duty.
-
The waitress gives Graham directions to the Thoth Symphony Hall, Museum of Art, Metropolitan Gardens and a dozen other attractions, all of which are within easy walking distance.
-
When there is an hour left on her watch, Collins messages Dr. Villa. Could you fit me in for a quick check up in about an hour?, and she messages Cooper How about dinner a little later this evening, like around 2030?
-
Dr. Villa replies, Yes, if you come straight here.
Cooper replies, Can't tonight - unexpected/unwelcome assignment in Shuttle Maintenance. Probably run late. Grrr. Sorry!
-
Velir heads back out of the restrooms mulling over Kylah's actions and if he should say anything further. She's a grown woman capable of handling her own affairs, why should he get involved, but then again, she was obviously in over her head in this bar and doing something foolish. Of course the one thing he didn't say was that if she needed any help, all she had to do is ask.
Looking up, he groans inwardly as he sees the empty table, two cups still on it, but no sign of Kylah. What was she playing at leaving the drinks open like that. Glancing quickly around, he confirms that she is nowhere in sight, just the same few people and the bartender being industrious.
Oh great, I've just been cut loose in a downtown bar, that was nice of her.
Velir wanders up to the bartender. "Good afternoon, perhaps you could tell me where my friend has gone, the lady from the booth over there? I know she was carrying out some business here and I'd just like to make sure she is fine. Actually, on second thoughts, let me try contacting her and checking that way, save you the trouble. I do hope she responds, Starfleet hates it when people go missing? If there is anything you can tell me, I'll be over there." Velir gestures with one thumb in the direction of the booth and then heads across, ignoring any stares, and sits down obviously flipping his communicator out.
Once he is sitting down, he tries contacting Kylah waiting for her to answer.
-
The sound of her communicator makes Kylah jump. She eyes the man across the room. This stranger has only just begun trusting her--possibly--and now here is a reminder of her Starfleet obligations.
"Excuse me," she murmurs while fumbling for the device on her belt. Turning slightly away, she does not mean to sound terse but it comes out that way anyway: "I am sorry, you must be wondering where I am. I cannot answer that. But I am fine." She closes her eyes and looks down at the floor, her voice softening. "Are you all right?"
* * *
Velir is relieved to hear Kylah's voice. She seems okay--well, as okay as she has during this entire shore leave.
"Yes, I was wondering where you were, there are two lonely drinks left on this table and a large gap where someone has vanished." Velir reins his tone in slightly. "But I am glad to hear you're fine. I take it you're doing something private and don't want me around at the moment."
Velir sighs slightly and decides to give Kylah at least an easy way out of the conversation. "You know, it's fine if that's what you're up to, but you could have told me, especially if it's just getting your zither fixed." He waits to see how she responds.
* * *
Kylah senses both Velir's impatience as well as the contact's; right now, she must lean on the side of this stranger. She hastens to grab onto the rope Velir has thrown her. "Yes, yes, it is my zither. The artisan who owns the repair shop is a friend of the bartender, who was kind enough to get me in to see her at her home."
The instant the lie is out, Kylah realizes her foolishness. Of course Velir will ask the bartender, and she will be found out, and...
And what? She has already disgraced herself with him. If last night did not ruin things--and despite Velir's insistence, she cannot forget how abruptly he backed away from her naked form, as if he felt contaminated by having touched her--this probably will. I will deal with it later, she thinks in desperation, tossing a quick glance back at the stranger waiting for her at the desk.
"I really must go, I am being rude," she blurts into the communicator. "I apologize, I know I should have left you a message, but the opportunity arose and I could not spare the time. Please, just... You can leave if you wish--or perhaps walk around, see the sights? I am not sure when I will be back, but I will meet you." At least one last time. Kylah knows she cannot make any decision without seeing Velir again. "I will contact you when I am through, I promise. Goodbye," she whispers apologetically before hurrying to shut her communicator and tuck it away out of sight.
After taking a deep breath to recapture her composure, she finally has the courage to face the man behind the desk.
* * *
"I will meet you back at the bar, then," Velir replies as he hears her disconnect, leaving him to wonder if she even heard him. Feeling pretty miserable, he leans back in the booth, rolling his fingers around the glass and waiting to see if the bartender will say anything.
Rangin and Kylah by the usual suspects.
-
The bartender shrugs. "I don't ask too many questions of my patrons. If the lady wants you to know where she is or what she's doing, she'll have to be the one to tell you. Another drink?"
-
Now that Kylah's attention is back on the stranger, her contact, she gathers herself together and focuses on his outrageous proposal. He expects her to pay him a large sum without anything in return, as if some code of honor exists between them? And that smile on his nondescript face: like his chuckle, mild though it was, it rankles her. He considers me even less experienced--and more reckless--than I actually am.
"I beg your pardon, I had no choice but to respond to my colleague; he would have sought me out otherwise. Now. To address your offer. There are two problems with it," she says, her voice calm but guarded. "A bank account can be tracked and defeats the purpose of this entire transaction. That is why I want cash. And further, I am not willing to turn over credits to you, sight unseen. What recourse would I have if you decided to leave without fulfilling your side of the bargain?"
He raises an eyebrow. "You called for me, remember?"
"That does not mean I have left my caution back on my ship," Kylah says, her cheeks burning with indignation. She gnaws at her lip, uncertain what to do. The truth is, she is as desperate as he thinks she is. She has no idea when she will have such an opportunity again. "Very well. If you cannot possibly get here in the 45 minutes left to my shore leave, I will... I will have to meet you in an hour." Somehow. Somehow I will manage it. "Where is the nearest place to... wherever you are getting your funds? I will go there, to save time. And if it will get you to hurry further, make the percentage twenty-five percent. Further, the amount for exchange will be 6000 credits, which makes your take 1500 credits instead. Does that help?"
He looks at her speculatively. "All right, 6000, then. Best I just meet you here in an hour with the crowns." He takes out a paypad, inputs some commands, and holds it out for her to see. The small screen shows the currency conversion she just outlined.
"All right," Kylah says slowly, hoping the exchange rate is correct. "I will give you 7500 credits when I have the currency in hand. And speaking of which... as you are Human, I know it is customary to shake hands on the bargain. Let us do so." She extends her hand, eyes innocent of guile, but focusing carefully on the man to gauge his sincerity or duplicitousness.
"That's not the custom where I'm from," he says, smiling a little, "but thanks anyway." He gets up to go. "See you in an hour."
Frustrated, Kylah hesitates before leaving, trying to discern any emotions from him. Even without the aid of physical contact, her skills should tell her something. As he passes her, she gets a fleeting impression of purposefulness and greed, but little more. The door whisks open and he is gone.
She waits a moment and then hurries out to climb the stairs. But she stops halfway and rests against the wall, looking across at the gloomy, grubby surroundings while she tries to catch her breath.
The stairs, of course, have not tired her out. But the adrenaline from the meeting seems to have drained all energy from her all at once. Eventually she forces herself up the rest of the way, returning to the main level once more. However, she lingers in the back area, wondering if Velir is still in the bar or not. Her alibi will be ruined if he is--and if she cannot find an alternate route out of here.
-
Graham gives all the attractions equal odds of being where T'Var's hanging out--hey, odds, just like a Vulcan, he thinks, chuckling to himself--so he walks onward in a circuit as received: Thoth Symphony Hall, Museum of Art, then Metropolitan Gardens, time permitting. If his time on leave runs down to 15 minutes, he'll beam up,
-
An usher in the lobby of Symphony Hall tells Graham there's an open opera rehearsal underway, and he's welcome to go in. Several people are leaving as he enters, and he sees T'Var almost at once, sitting by herself on the main seating level. (Vulcan women in Starfleet Medical blue tend to stand out).
-
Kylah edges closer to the public area of the bar, searching the room to see if her luck has, for once, changed and Velir has taken her suggestion to take a walk. Her mind is also occupied with figuring out a way to stay on the planet longer than allowed. Perhaps if I ask Thalen, she thinks hopefully. Invent some delay. Anything. Fifteen or twenty minutes should not be too much to ask of... The rationalization is so weak that she can hardly even finish the thought. She does not even know if the ship will be remaining in orbit after their leave is over. She supposes if she lags behind and the Yorktown flies off before she can return, the decision to run away will be taken out of her hands entirely.
She abandons that dubious wish. I am not that fortunate.
In any event, first she must meet up with Velir while avoiding his finding out just how big a liar she is. Kylah peers toward their table--and sure enough, sees the back of his head, his familiar dark hair catching her eye almost immediately. Her heart gives a thump of alarm and disappointment as she backs up several paces. She swivels and looks wildly around, searching for an alternate escape route while she moves further toward the rear of the building. There must be a fire exit, a service or delivery entrance, something!
-
Velir sits at the table, slumped over and doodling in the ale which had spilled from the glass wondering what to do next. Wallowing in misery is all very well, but it isn't going to do anything for his mood, not that, at this moment, he really cares. Leaning back, Kylah had said that she would be back in touch, but didn't say when and he didn't feel like going to see the sights any more, not that he really had the time to appreciate what was around. Stuck as he is, abandoned more like, in a less than welcoming part of town.
It was not as even as if he could just meet her back on the Yorktown, she had wanted to meet somewhere on Anubis. Velir smiled, he could have spent shore leave on a hilltop, sat and relaxed in the sun with a book or just seeing the view and instead all he got is the grimy inside of a rustic hostelry. Rustic, indeed, perhaps Kylah should have used some other words like quaint, or picturesque to describe the place, perhaps the restrooms would count as earthy.
Here he is, stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be, waiting for a call that might not come, from someone who doesn't trust him...Velir considers the deja vu whiplash he is getting. Been there, done that, not doing it again. Just sitting there, with his thoughts isn't good, time to go do something different and he knows what to do.
Velir had been to many planets but hadn't been to Anubis before, and looking at his chronometer he didn't have long. New planet, new souvenir for his sister. Suddenly, there's a spring in his step again as he heads for the door. If Kylah wanted to meet, well she could catch up with him this time round.
-
Rangin leaves without seeing Kylah behind him.
The bartender looks at Kylah with wry amusement. "Will there be anything else, miss?"
-
Rangin heads to the nearby shops to see which ones are open. He's not looking for anything special just a little something to say he was there and can be easily shipped. Feeling lighter of heart having left the bar behind, he starts peering in shop to shop, though aware of the time he has remaining.
It doesn't take too long to find a couple of trinkets and a small bracelet marking where they have come from. His sister is unlikely to ever wear it, but she always liked to know how far Rangin went on his travels.
Feeling happier for having accomplished something, he looks around for a stand to buy a snack from, hungry from the minimal exertion and to also to take the taste away from the Cordas Pale.
-
Graham slips into the row next to T'Var. "Hey Doc," he whispers, pointing up toward the stage. "How's the 'patient'?"
-
Kylah sees Velir leaving and somehow, despite her initial relief, she feels bereft as she watches him retreat from her. Once he is gone, she emerges into the bar area, where the bartender's question barely registers at first. Then she turns to him. "No, thank you. I mean... I will need to return here shortly to... to finish things, if that is all right. But I do not need further assistance. Thank you for making the contact."
She exits the bar. The fresh air only emphasizes how unpleasant the inside of the building was, and she walks while taking deep breaths. Stopping at a corner, she takes out her communicator and, after only a slight hesitation, contacts Lt. Thalen. After apologizing for bothering him and some initial meaningless pleasantries, Kylah finally broaches the question uppermost in her mind. "Sir, I have a favor to ask. I am performing a personal errand down on the planet and it... it is taking a little longer than expected. May I request permission to delay my return to the ship by about... a half-hour?" Out of prudence, she adds some time just in case the stranger is late showing up. Then she hurries on: "I will take an extra watch, I will work longer, anything that may be needed of me to make up for the delay and inconvenience. Will this be possible, sir?"
-
"On life support and not doing well," T'Var replies. "I was thinking about leaving. We do not have much time left before returning to the ship."
The doctor gives Graham a brief glance. "What have you been up to?"
-
Rangin sees no food stands on that street. There are two fast-food storefront restaurants, neither of which look too appetizing.
The bartender nods as Kylah leaves. "Sure. See you soon." One of the men from the booth calls him over for another round.
Lt. Thalen pauses before saying, "That may be cutting it a little too close with our departure plans, Ensign. I'll have to run this by Mr. Vargas, in any event. May I ask what the personal errand is? I suspect he's going to ask."
-
Kylah clutches her communicator more tightly. Miserable at having to lie, she swallows and gathers her nerve. "It is something that you might understand, but I fear others might not," she says hesitantly. "My--my grandmother's zither, an heirloom that was ancient even when she received it as a girl. It is broken, and I have never found anyone skilled enough whom I trusted to fix it. Elasian zithers are notoriously delicate and require painstaking work to repair. At last I have found an artisan who is able to do the job, but it is taking longer than she expected..." Her words trail off as Kylah's embarrassment starts to choke her. "I am sorry, Lieutenant. I know it must seem frivolous and reflects poorly on me. I truly do not want to inconvenience anyone."
-
"Uh," Graham replies, not sure how much of the Quest for the Magic Snowglobe he wants to reveal. "Ran into Woizera and Davis from Engineering, had drink at a nice bar, looked at some...ah, knick knacks." He frowns and looks around. "Nothing so culturally enriching as this."
-
Thalen says, "Understood. Stand by." Kylah waits. After what seems like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a minute or so, he comes back on to say, "The First Officer has approved an extra half-hour leave, Mr. Kylah, but no more. Thalen out."
-
The connection is lost before Kylah has a chance to respond or express her gratitude.
Elation, surprise and confusion all compete for dominance within her, and she lowers her communicator, staring across the road. She cannot believe it was so simple--something was important to her, the message conveyed to a person who could grant it, and without any argument she received what she wished.
"How kind," she whispers, sincere and somewhat wondering. I did not deserve it, Vargas does not like me, but he allowed me the favor anyway.
This small act of generosity--one that has made it easier for her to escape--has lightened her mood so much that Kylah is, ironically, less inclined to flee than before. The truth is, Starfleet is not so unyielding. Humans are not all bigots. Her crewmates can be understanding. And as for the mess she has made with Velir... perhaps she can survive the shame of how she acted last night. He did ask her down to the planet. Even if he disapproves of what she did, even if he still doesn't trust her, he must not think her a lost cause.
Kylah's breathing quickens as she lifts her communicator again. We can still be friends, maybe more, if he will forgive me...
"Kylah to Rangin," she says into the device, a tiny ring of hope in her voice for the first time in what feels like ages. "I am ready. May I meet up with you now?"
Maybe she will not need the extra half-hour after all.
-
Rangin is peering through the window of yet another fast food store wondering if he really wants to eat something that looks as though it had been scraped off the floor from behind the counter when the communicator goes. Looking at it, he pauses for a moment, doubt running through his mind as if he really wants to answer it. Can he really bring himself to talk to someone who is probably going to lie to him?
Reufully, he opens the communicator and begins to speak. "Hello Kylah. Sure, I'm fine to meet up. I'm about five minutes away from ...where we beamed down, shall I meet you there?" Rangin didn't really want to head back to the bar and meeting there would have less distractions. Besides, it might be easier as if they were starting over on this planet again.
-
"Yes, that is a good idea! I will meet you there in just a few moments." Kylah cannot judge Velir's mood from the somewhat tinny communicator sound of his voice, but she thinks his words seem casual and pleasant enough. She is glad he does not wish to return to the bar--she has no desire to go back, not yet, not if it is not necessary. And seeing Velir again will, perhaps, ground her even further.
As she tries to find her way back to the beam-down spot, Kylah leaves the grungier neighborhood for the nicer, artier area where they first arrived on Anubis. The sight of one shop makes her pause and stare in the window. Elegant little sculptures and objets d'art catch her eye, and an idea strikes her. She enters the store and is immediately drawn to a shelf full of small, multifaceted glass creations. They appear to be blown glass, and Kylah suspects their creator is actually in the shop itself.
Calling over the shopkeeper, she points out one of several animal sculptures that are utterly unrecognizable her. The largest is about the size of her hand, and it is also the most curious; it turns out to be a miniature version of some local indigenous creature. Oh how perfect, Kylah thinks happily, staring at the odd but beautiful little thing. She can only imagine Velir's face when he sees it--although he may know what this animal is, given his area of expertise. But that is precisely why this gift seems so ideal.
Without a thought of the cost--which is considerable, but far less than what the bartender's 'friend' would get as a fee--she purchases the sculpture, which is placed in a protective case and very carefully wrapped, and then dashes out the door.
After another block, she spies Velir, whose back is to her. Kylah hurries up to him, and just as she approaches notices that he, too, is carrying what appears to be a gift bag. Her face is suffused with a flush, delighted at the realization that he has thought of her, and relieved that she had the good fortune to pick something for him. She has always loved giving presents--on Elas, it is expected of those in a position to do so--and would never want to be empty-handed in the face of someone else's generosity.
"I am sorry to keep you waiting," she says while his back is still turned., and self-consciously hides the gift bag in her own hand. "I hope you had a good walk in the meantime?"
-
With no sign of Kylah where they had beamed down, Rangin looks in a few of the windows, idling along and wondering what to say, or more likely what she would say. He almost jumps when he hears her voice behind him, sounding happier than it did and he can see her reflection in the window he is standing in front of. She looks different from when he last saw her, a smile flickering on her lips, what looks to be a more hopeful facade, but was that all it was. Just a facade to mollify him and keep him sweet. There was only one way to find out.
Rangin turns round and smiles at her, hands clasped behind his back. "The walk was good, thank you," he politely replies, "better than sitting in the bar. How about you? Did you manage to sort everything out you needed to there?"
-
"I am not certain 'enriching' is the term I would use," the doctor says with a slight frown. "Your adventures sound much more interesting, Mr. Graham."
-
He is smiling; that is... good? Kylah searches Velir's face for more clues, particularly his eyes, but he seems... hidden, more so than usual. He might as well be wearing one of those ceremonial masks from his home planet.
The remark about sitting in the bar feels pointed, and Kylah glances away for a moment, embarrassed. "I am sorry to have left you like that, Velir. I did say I could not help it. But I truly am sorry nonetheless."
She lifts her gaze. In walking over she has realized that she should at least get the credits exchanged, even if she does not leave now after all. One never knows what might happen in the future. Having money that Aldaan cannot trace is too valuable to pass up.
Still guilty for having to maintain the fiction, especially to Velir, she gets the last lie over with, quickly: "And no, things are not quite completed. It will take a bit longer. I was--I was very lucky that the bartender knew someone who would work on the zither as quickly as this, so I must not complain..." She tries to refresh her smile. "There is still some time left. Would you like to help me find some sort of dessert shop? I would love something sweet."
-
Rangin smiles. He can still feel the twitching of the muscles around the edge, but inside he can feel himself almost break. She is lying to him. He searches her face for any sign that confirms it, but he can't tell the difference between her apology and if there was anything different. It was ever so, he never could pick something like this when he was too close to them.
"No, I'm sure you couldn't help it. It was obviously something unavoidable you had to do. I guess it was lucky that you managed to find the one bar on Anubis where the bartender knew a music repairer just down the road who could fix an expensive Elasian zither." Rangin sighs. Did Kylah not realise just how false she sounded, despite seeming so honest.
"I'd love to go to a sweet shop, with a friend, to relax and enjoy their company, as we used to. Perhaps we could talk, as I said earlier, I wanted to know more about you, to rebuild what we had, to be friends, perhaps more in time. We both know we have feelings for each other and I was hoping that, perhaps, we could get some understanding of each other."
Rangin shifts uncomfortably. "But the problem is Kylah, is that I don't think you have been honest with me all morning. I was hoping that you would be, but they way you have acted, the secrecy, the disappearing act, the hurried stories, I don't know what to believe. All I do know is that you are still carrying your zither."
Rangin looks down with sadness at the case carefully being carried by Kylah, before looking up and waiting for her response.
-
Kylah does not know if she has stopped breathing or if her heart has stopped beating. But time began to slow down the longer Velir's words went from calm to dry as a desert, and now--now that his voice sharpens and points out the obvious, now that his gaze drops to the bag hanging from her shoulder--Kylah's entire body seems to have frozen.
She is too mortified to prevent herself from looking at the bag as well. As if it just materialized. And in a way, it has. Her brain blocked it out, some insane self-destructive impulse appears to have crafted a lie that she could not possibly pull off. Kylah, who has told so many lies she knows them better than the truth, cannot believe her own sloppiness.
"No," she says. She does not even know what she means by this 'no.' Some last denial? Impossible. "I mean... Velir... you are right. Of course you are right. I am sorry. I..." Kylah shakes her head. "I did not know what to tell you. I--it has nothing to do with you. I did lie. I am sorry," she repeats uselessly. "Please, forgive me. I had to do something, I needed to make arrangements, it was a--an impulse. I could not help it. I knew you would not approve."
She swallows, wishing she could erase everything she has said. "Can we--can we not forget it? I too want to go back, like you said, I want to talk to you and be friends..." Reflexively she lifts her free hand as if about to touch him, then pulls back. "No. I want to be more than friends. You know that. I tried to do that last night, I thought we could finally be together and it would fix things. But you backed away, and I was hurt and I thought going to this man would be the answer, but... it was not. I still want to be with you. Did I not show that to you, last night? I showed you everything. I have never been that way before, not with anyone. Please... you must believe me." Kylah takes a step closer, feeling tears sting her eyes. "You matter to me, Velir. More than anyone. Let us start again, please?"
-
"Start again." Rangin's voice comes out as a hoarse croak. "Just start again. Are you kidding? You really think this is just about sleeping with each other. You want to be more than friends, but you don't even have a clue what it means to be a friend."
"A friend is someone you trust, someone you can talk to. You're not interested in treating me as a friend. Your idea of friendship is to leave me waiting in some dingy downtown bar wondering if you knew what you were doing, if you were safe, and above all why you were lying to me."
"That's right, you lied to me. Not once or twice, but all morning. How could you? You wanted to be treated with respect, yet you seem to fall so exceedingly short yourself. I gave you plenty of chances to be honest and all you did was throw it back in my face, you miserable, lying siren. I'm amazed you haven't just decided to use those tears of yours, or did you have something else in mind."
-
Kylah's face jerks backward as if he physically struck her. Miserable, lying siren. It is worse, so much worse, than anything anyone else has said to her. Not Ferguson, not Collins, not anyone at the Academy. It is worse because it is from Velir Rangin.
She stares at him, blinded by tears that she must now control, somehow, because if he thinks she is capable of using them... No. He must not be in his right mind. Did the alcohol do something to him?
"Velir," she whispers. "Velir, you do not... you cannot mean what you are saying. You cannot truly think I would ever do that to you. I care about you. I think only about you. As a friend, as more, as everything a person can mean to me. You are in my heart and my mind." Helpless to stop her tears, she looks down and sees the gift bag in her left hand. Unthinkingly she lifts it, holding it toward him. "I--I even bought you this."
* * *
The sight of the bag trembling in her slender hand is too much. Perfect. She could not have contrived a better way to sicken him if she tried. "Of course," Rangin says in an acrid tone. "Of course you got me a gift. I bet it's an expensive one as well. No expenses spared to buy what you want. You know, like a fancy meal in a restaurant to keep me enchanted and complacent. After all, you're royalty, you can afford it all, can't you?"
* * *
"No!" Kylah shakes her head, aghast at how he has misinterpreted her. "No, that is not what this is about. I am showing it to you because--because it proves that I understand you. I wanted to show you that I know who you are, what is important to you. I want you to know that I admire and understand the things that you--
* * *
"Stop. Just stop." Rangin holds up the bag of gifts he had purchased not long before. "These, these here are gifts. Gifts for someone who cares, someone who doesn't lie to me, someone who treats me with respect. Things you seem to have very little familiarity with."
He pauses for a ragged breath. Kylah is mute, apparently incapable of responding to this. Of course not, because how can she deny how little regard she has for him? He barrels on, unable to bear looking at her tearful, wounded gaze. Just another façade, part of the spell she wants to weave around him.
"And you stand there asking to be more than friends. I backed away because I wasn't ready and it wasn't your fault, I've been trying to tell you that all morning. But to say you have never been that way with anyone else, do you take me for a fool? Did OCIII not happen, or are you trying to peddle me another ridiculous lie?" Now he does laugh. The absurdity is too much. "And didn't you just say that after I rejected you, you went to see another man? To give you what I wouldn't, is that it? You dare to say I'm the only one you think about when you've literally just come from some other man? Am I really that much of a idiot that you think I'll swallow anything you utter?"
* * *
Kylah has been shaking her head since he mentioned OCIII, and now, when he accuses her of being with someone... "How can you think that of me?" she says, so weak she is dizzy. "How can you think that I would do such a thing?" But why would he think otherwise? He knows about Jan, or he thinks he does, and perhaps the other rumors really have made it to his ears.
She is so hurt and mortified that her brain cannot come up with words to defend herself. She can only whisper: "Please, Velir... do not say anything else. Please, please stop! You do not know what you are doing to me."
* * *
Rangin's heart almost goes out to her, but he can't let himself fall for this. Not again. He shakes his head. "It's not all about you. Do you know what you've done to me, with your constant games? You've thrown my friendship back in my face, laughed at any trust I had in you. I would've helped out in any way I could have, for a friend, for you, no matter what it was. And look where that got me."
She starts to speak but he lifts a palm, cutting her off. "No. No more. Right now I don't want to speak to you, I don't want to know you, and the last thing I want to do is ever consider sleeping with you, Princess."
Rangin takes two steps back and pulls out his communicator and despite the anger in his heart, tears begin to well in his eyes. Flipping it open, he calls out. "Rangin to Yorktown. One to beam up."
Kylah and Rangin by choie and CatInASuit.
-
"Acknowledged," comes the response from the ship. "Stand by."
-
"Well, after the last mission," Graham replies, "I'm not sure any of us need much more excitement--and we t could use a lot less, ah, drama...I'm glad it seems like that's all behind us."
-
Kylah sways slightly but straightens herself--yet still feels as if she is falling, falling down some unfathomable abyss.
I don't want to know you.
It is as permanent and dismissive a remark as any she has heard. That he does not want to sleep with her is no surprise; his contemptuous use of the nonexistent title Princess is so recognizable an epithet that she is not fazed by it either.
But his I don't want to know you is a punch in her gut, brutal in its conciseness. There is nothing she can say, nothing she can do, to someone who wants to obliterate her existence from his life.
Somewhere far away his voice asks to beam up--one to beam up--and Kylah again staggers back, away from Velir, in case she should accidentally contaminate him.
Every hope she had only moments ago is now extinguished. If he truly does not want to know her, there is one way to make that happen. Kylah's choice seems to have been made despite herself.
Unable to watch Velir beam away from her life, she spins around, nearly losing her balance after a whirl of nausea makes her dizzy. And somehow she forces her legs to move until she is stumbling, then walking and now running down the street.
Nothing looks familiar anymore. Afternoon shadows are lengthening and turn the buildings and pavements the wrong colors. But she keeps going, searching for the same grubby neighborhood, the bar, and the man who will help her do exactly what Velir wants, apparently for the first time: disappear.
-
Rangin feels his skin begin to tingle and, in moments, he disappears into the transporter effect. He rematerializes on a Yorktown transporter pad; several other people are also returning from shore leave, including his cabinmate, Ens. Gordon. The engineer notices his expression at once and asks with concern, "Are you OK, Velir?"
Kylah is disoriented and after a few minutes of wandering realizes that, although she is not on a main thoroughfare, it is not the same street - or maybe even the same area? - as the bar she and Rangin had been in.
-
Kylah stops and takes deep gulps of air. Somehow she has to retrace her steps. Turning back in the direction from which she came, she walks hesitantly down the street. Something must be familiar. She does not think she has traveled far, but the truth is, her mind is barely able to process her surroundings. Too many emotions, her own and his, have sapped her strength and ability to focus. And her head and eyes ache after her failed attempt to keep from crying.
She tries to conjure up the image of the stranger, but she cannot even describe him, much less a way to contact him. I should have got his name, why did I not do that? Kylah chokes back a sob. She is not worried about missing the Yorktown's departure--that is her intention, after all. But meeting this stranger is essential. She needs to get off the planet, because once the Yorktown leaves and her absence is noted, she will be in all kinds of trouble from both Starfleet...and especially her uncle, once he inevitably finds out.
Desperate and extraordinarily alone, Kylah gathers what remains of her strength of will and continues to search for the bar... or, failing that, the music shop. If she can find that, repeating her path to finding the bar itself should be possible.
-
Rangin can still feel himself shaking slightly from what just happened. For a moment he doesn't hear his cabinmate, but then it registers and he looks across at Ens. Graham. "I don't know, thanks. I just need a little time to figure some things out."
Some parts of the world have gone into sharp focus and he can clearly feel himself automatically walking to the door and heading for his cabin, to freshen up in the few minutes before shore leave ends and he needs to return to duty. But he almost cannot hear the words and noises around him, which have paled into insignificance as his words to Kylah rattle over and over in his mind. He can't believe he said them, the words that tumbled out one after another, all the pent up frustration let loose in one cavalcade.
But in the cold glow of the Yorktown's lights, he stops and thinks back and realises he had been wanting to say those words for so long. No, not just the past few days, but the past few years. That hurt and pain had been there for so long, festering inside him like an malignant sore, something he had never been able to get away from, no matter how hard he ran. But finally, it somehow felt so good to get those words passed his lips, to say how he felt for once instead of bottling it inside himself. If only he had done that years ago, how different his life could be now?
Only this time it was Kylah who caught the full force and not...not...it didn't matter. Kylah was as bad as she was: controlling, manipulative and a liar. He is better off without her and given what had just happened, he is so relieved he had not slept with her last night.
Rangin should be happy, he is no longer running, so why does a little piece of him feel guilty for what he just did. No, it didn't matter any more, that moment had passed and he needs to look forward. What there had been with Kylah was gone, blazed away in her actions and his fury.
Time to move on.
-
After some fits and starts, and after going down two wrong streets, Kylah at last finds her way back to the bar. The same bartender is on duty; he looks at her as she enters and then looks away. The previous patrons are gone, but four Caldonians in matching uniforms are noisily talking and drinking at one of the tables.
-
Kylah cannot help a glance at the table where she and Velir were sitting a million years ago. When tears again threaten to overtake her, she jerks her head away and walks up to the bar. "May I use your restroom again?" she says, and then adds more quietly, "I am going to change out of my uniform. That will make me less conspicuous. He--that man is not here yet, is he?"
-
"No, he's not back yet," the Bolian says. "Go ahead." A gale of laughter goes up from the Caldonians' table.
-
With a tight nod, Kylah walks past the Caldonians without really processing the noise they are making. She enters the restroom, this time checking underneath the stalls to see if anyone is there. She enters one, locks the door, and puts her bag down somewhat reluctantly on the dingy floor. It is then that she remembers the other bag in her left hand: the one with Velir's present.
Her eyes close and, weak in the knees, she sits on the edge of the lavatory, needing to compose herself. What should she do with this gift? It is of no possible use to her. Perhaps she can return it once the transaction with the stranger is complete. The thought helps calm her, and slowly she sets about opening her bag and surveying the inside. Her zither is packed carefully, wrapped in her sheer yellow dress for protection. On the far side are the rest of her few belongings that she bothered to take along with her, including a nightgown, two more dresses, a pair of shoes, toiletries, and her jewelry case. Breathing deeply, Kylah shoves the gift box beside the zither.
Kylah stands again and, steeling herself, removes her Starfleet uniform for what may be the last time. It might come in handy at some point, so she does not discard it. She exchanges it for the yellow dress, with sheer sleeves and a fairly modest neckline. It falls to just above her knees, not much different from her usual uniform. Then she uses her Starfleet uniform to re-wrap the zither. One thing makes her pause before closing the case: her communicator on the tool belt.
I must get rid of it, she thinks, picking it up and turning it over. It is a liability--the ship can use it to track her--she could even be beamed up without her permission if within range of another Starfleet vessel.
But after a few seconds of thought, Kylah decides that she will wait until the transaction is complete. She is not completely naďve; something might go wrong and access to the communicator might be important. She does, however, set it to silent before trying to decide where she can hide it. Since her dress lacks pockets, there is only one logical place for it. Frowning, she lifts her hand to make some room in her bra for the device, tucking it into her cleavage with some difficulty. The cold metal makes her shiver, but being without it will feel worse.
And I have my knife, she thinks reassuringly. She never did replace her right-hand weapon after she lost it to the Sakathian creature in whose flesh she embedded it. With her new cash, that will be the first thing she does: find a good throwing knife. Kylah has not felt entirely whole without both weapons flanking her.
At last she is done. The bag is closed and she hoists the strap over her shoulder again. When she leaves the stall she examines herself in the mirror. She looks younger in this civilian outfit. Perhaps because the dress itself is old, and it reminds her of her pre-Academy days. But the face above it... That does not look young. She looks haggard and pale, except for her puffy, reddened eyes. Kylah splashes her face with some water to refresh herself and add some needed color to her cheeks. And then she leaves the room behind, returning to the bar. A look at the bartender indicates that the stranger is still not here yet.
Kylah finds a table--not the one from before--and sits. She spends her time trying to be unobtrusive while waiting for her uncertain future to begin.
-
Kylah is just sitting down at a different table when a beautiful young woman in a gray-green uniform enters the bar. As with the Caldonians, Kylah does not recognize the uniform. The woman goes straight to the bar and begins talking in a friendly way with the bartender, who seems to know her.
-
"Yes," T'Var replies. "It will be good for all of us to begin a new mission."
The doctor stands. "Should we head back to the ship?"
-
The conductor and the diva are now arguing quite loudly on stage in some language neither of you recognize. The conductor starts waving his arms as he shouts at her. An embarrassed-looking staffer herds the rest of the cast off the stage.
-
Graham nods. "Sure, Doc. I think we were going to have a drink at some point--we may have run out of time on this leave, but maybe sometime soon when we're off duty."
Assuming T'Var comes along, Graham leaves the theater and requests beam up.
-
Kylah's contact comes in off the street. He is carrying a large, new-looking dark metal briefcase and indicates, with a slight incline of his head, for her to follow him back down to the office at the foot of the stairs.
Girding herself, Kylah rises and looks blankly at the bartender before following in the footsteps of the stranger. Once more she passes through the dank hallway and stairwell. She lags a bit going down the stairs. Something feels very final in this; once she changes over her money she will have committed a large portion of her funds to the endeavor. Of course, she can always change it back to credits, but she knows it is unlikely she will do so. After one final hesitation outside the office door, she steps forward so that it slides open for her to enter. "Thank you for meeting me again," she says softly.
"Sure," he says. "Business is business." The door whisks shut behind her, and he locks it. He pushes aside two datapads and a dirty, dusty coffee mug on the desk, and with a little grunt of effort lifts up the briefcase and puts it there. He inputs a six-digit code in the briefcase's lock and it opens. Kylah sees a dozen sequential rows of Andorian crowns, the golden coins suddenly bright in the dingy office. He hands her his paypad again and says, "This is it, every credit's worth, going by the current exchange rate. See for yourself." The quantity of coins, and the figures shown on the pad, all appear correct to Kylah.
The coins come as a surprise to her. Somehow she did not expect such a large number of them, and in truth she has very little experience dealing with physical money. Of course, she never dealt with financial matters at all until she left for the Academy. Things were just... handled for her. The stark truth hits her: I will have to get used to handling things alone from now on.
Moving past the frightening thought, she automatically reaches a hand out to touch one of the coins, somewhat mesmerized by them. "They are beautiful. I did not realize...." With a shake of her head, she looks up at the man. "I am sorry. This is new to me. Yes, the figures seem to be accurate."
She lifts her bag up to the table and opens it. The zither takes up the left side of the case, along with the gift box, which she studious avoids looking at. Over on the right, she crams her jewelry case as far into the corner as it will go, bunched up with her few clothes. "I will have to put them in here," she says, frowning in thought. "And will wrap them in my nightgown. Are they very heavy to carry?"
He looks at her oddly and says, "See for yourself," closing the case again and turning it towards her. She lifts it and realizes he's right. She's not even sure her bag will hold all those coins without ripping. "Six thousand fedcreds makes for some hefty bluie coin. You can take the briefcase if you want; I just assumed you would. No extra charge."
Kylah's face burns. "Oh. Of course. I am sorry, I did not... I do not do this regularly. I suppose that is self-evident. Thank you." She puts the briefcase back down and wipes her hands against her dress. "What should I do? How do you wish me to pay?"
He taps in additional commands on his paypad, and holds it out to her. It is set to transfer 7500 Federation credits from whichever account she designates.
Even though Kylah just dried her hands, when she sees the amount they feel clammy again. For some reason she thinks of the others in the bar: the Caldonians in their uniforms, the strange woman in her uniform. Before, she and Velir stood out from the others in civilian clothes. Now it is Kylah who wears nothing to indicate that she is a member of a group. She will not be a member of a group. She has always felt alone, even in the palace, even in the Academy and during her brief time on the Yorktown. But now it will be true.
She clears her throat, embarrassed by her hesitation. Then she reaches out and, after inputting her personal account number, presses her thumb on the pad to complete the transfer.
The paypad makes a small beep. The man takes it back, looks at it for a moment, taps in another command, and then smiles. "All right. The briefcase lock's combination in 449449. A pleasure doing business with you, Ensign. Goodbye." He leaves.
Slowly Kylah takes her bag and, after a pause, the briefcase. The latter strains her arm somewhat but she supposes she will get used to it. She walks through the door and heads upstairs to the bar. Her contact is already gone.
-
In truth Kylah is now reluctant to leave the bar; grubby as it is, this is the only place she knows on Anubis. Biting her lip, she returns to the bartender. "Excuse me. I am sorry to bother you again. But do you know of any common gathering places where I might find... travelers? Crew members of shuttles, merchant vessels, that sort of thing?"
The uniformed woman, she sees, is now talking in a booth with a tall, wiry insectoid alien. Each is holding a steaming mug.
The bartender asks Kylah, "You mean, other than here? These folks are all down from ships in orbit."
Kylah turns back to the customers. She remembers the Caldonians saw her walk in with a Starfleet uniform; that makes them a poor choice. She murmurs a distracted word of thanks to the bartender and heads to the woman's and insectoid's table. "I beg your pardon," she says. "I am sorry to intrude, but I need a favor. I wish to leave the planet but have no transport. Do either of you..." Her courage is flagging and she struggles to continue. "Are either of your ships willing to take on a passenger? I will pay my fare," she adds hastily.
The insectoid just looks at her with five compound eyes, its forehead stalks - antennae? - waving slowly. Up close, Kylah can see that the woman has the insignia of a lieutenant in the Drelloan Exploratory Corps on one sleeve, and of the scoutship Farseeker on the other. She seems friendly. "Capt. Morgan takes passengers once in awhile. Where did you want to go? We're headed to Nova Tuscana next, then Verrel VI."
Kylah winces at the last name. It is so close to a combination of Velir and Jeril that her stomach twists into a knot. "I... I do not know either of those places," she murmurs, looking down at the table. "And in truth I do not know where I want to go. I just want to leave. What are they, and how long does it take to get to each?"
"Well, Nova Tuscana's a nice place. Kind of like Anubis, but with a real Italian feel to it. Verrel VI is much smaller, not nearly as... civilized, I'd have to say. Not too many amenities - it's a frontier mining colony." She drinks from her mug. "NT is about two weeks from here; V6 is another five, six weeks beyond that, depending on our speed. After that, we'll be going out into the unknown."
There is a burst of noisy laughter from the Caldonians. The insectoid now also takes a drink.
With a quick look at the woman's companion, Kylah returns to the lieutenant. "I see. And... forgive my ignorance, but... are you part of the Federation? Do you have any affiliation or agreements with Starfleet? What exactly is the--Drelloan Exploratory Corps?"
The woman smiles. "Yes, Drello III is a Federation member. We don't see much of Starfleet there but a ship stops by now and then. Drelloans have always been adventurers at heart; the DEC explores, surveys and charts and lays first claim, when we can, to habitable or resource-rich worlds. I've been with the Corps for ten years now, most of that time on the Farseeker."
"I see, it sounds... exciting." Kylah's words are the truth--exploring undiscovered worlds is rather like how Kylah envisioned her life in Starfleet, although she has not yet had the chance to do so. But she is not certain it is wise to seek a journey with a Federation-aligned entity. She would rather find a less... visible vessel. Something that will escape the notice of - "fly under the radar" of, in the ancient phrase - any larger ship.
As she casts her gaze around the bar, she realizes she is unlikely to find anyone willing to ask no questions of a nameless passenger here. Just in case nothing else pans out, Kylah asks the lieutenant, "And... when are you leaving Anubis?"
"Two days from now. We're resupplying and getting some minor repairs. The captain gave most of us shore leave."
Oddly, despite her concerns that the Farseeker is too visible, Kylah finds herself disappointed. "I fear I cannot wait that long. I must leave Anubis as soon as possible. But thank you for your assistance." She is about to leave and then turns back. "One more question. Do you--do you happen to know any other ship on which I might take passage? I would need something inconspicuous and... fast."
The woman raises an eyebrow and thinks a moment. "Not off the top of my head. You might want to go to the Starport outside of town. Plenty of ships coming and going every day."
Kylah nods slowly, then thanks the stranger and the silent companion by her side for their time. Without further hesitation, she exits the bar and finds herself back on this unpleasant block, which thanks to the dimming afternoon light seems even less inviting than it did earlier. Her nerves are suddenly raw and almost vibrating with adrenaline. I am nervous. It is natural. But she knows nothing is natural about what she is doing. Not knowing where she is headed except 'outside of town,' Kylah tries to find her way, uneasy and feeling less and less certain that she is on the right path--in every sense of the words.
Kylah sees from her chronometer that she has another three minutes before her half-hour shore leave extension is up, and she is officially AWOL. Her heart hammers at the realization that she is at the point of no return. It is desertion, it is dereliction of duty, she thinks. I swore an oath. And... Velir....
But again she hears those horrible words: I don't want to know you.
Looking around as if she will find the answer somewhere, she discovers an electronic information kiosk on a street corner. Perhaps that will at least tell her where she is. Just as she reaches it, however, something strange begins to happen to her left hand, the one holding the heavy briefcase: an odd, tingling sensation that after only a few seconds she recognizes in rising panic as a transporter effect - similar to but different from the Starfleet effect she knows so well. She opens her mouth to scream when the energy wave abruptly sweeps over her entire body.
The street disappears from view and she finds herself, after a brief wave of disorientation and nausea, in a large, dark room, the distant corners of which she can only barely see. The floor underfoot is dirty and gritty. Three men in masks are standing in front of her. Two have short, irregular metal clubs, and one has a disruptor.
"Put down the briefcase, Ensign," says the one holding the disruptor, his voice echoing slightly, "and you leave here unhurt."
-
Her body frozen in fear for a millisecond, Kylah steps backwards reflexively. She gapes at the men and only clutches the briefcase and her bag more tightly. "Who--who are you, where have you brought me? I do not have anything, please let me go!" Forcefully she aims her mental power at the one with the disruptor, clearly the leader. Does she know him? His voice echoes too much for her to recognize it. With an automatic protective instinct, she jerks the briefcase behind her. She edges farther away until her back hits a wall. "Th-there are only data pads, my personal things here... nothing you would want!"
Even as she says the words, she realizes it is a pointless ruse. They must know what she is carrying. Why else would they have targeted her? Not even her--the briefcase. They were trying to transport the briefcase by itself, that is why she first felt the transporter in her hand.
She is both furious and helpless. They are either connected to the bartender, the contact--or both. Or neither, and simply saw her with the briefcase. This was planned. She has been a naďve fool.
Her knife might as well be back in the bar for the good it will do her, not just because her hands are full--that is easy enough to rectify--but because there are three assailants. Two with clubs. Why... why would they need clubs?
Kylah wants to faint. "Please let me go," she whispers again.
-
T'Var and Graham beam up on time and, after a chance to freshen up in their cabins, return to duty on the Bridge. Collins and Rangin are already there. Collins looks like she had a good shore leave; Rangin, less so.
Vargas is in the big chair. Graham learns from checking the Security duty log that all Yorktown personnel other than Ens. Kylah have now returned from the surface. The young Communications officer was given a half-hour extension of her shore leave; that time is now almost up.
In the dark room, the man with the disruptor says, "I don't ask twice. Get it, boys." The two other men advance on Kylah.
-
"No! Here--here!" Kylah drops the briefcase in front of her, sidling away from it. "Please. Take it. I do not care, it is just money, you can have it." She is sickened by how weak she sounds, and her wild gaze settles on the leader. "I have given you what you want, now let me leave. If anything happens to me, you will be in deeper trouble than you can imagine!" Clutching her bag closer, she loses her nerve. "Please, I just want to go."
-
T'Var resumes her station at Life Sciences. She will definitely take Graham up on his offer of a drink when they are off duty. She likes the Security Officer and would enjoy getting to know him better.
-
"So," Collins says quietly to Graham as he sits down, "turns out I'm free tonight. Feel like having that boxing match we've postponed?"
-
Graham rubs his chin. "Hm..." he chuckles softly. "You ask me the one night out of ten I'm not feeling homicidal," he replies, smiling to emphasize he's joking. "I, ah...maybe, but I think I need to track Rangin down and maybe...ah, apologize." He lowers his voice even further. "I get the feeling I came off as not liking the guy--I mean, I don't think I'm on his Christmas card list as the old saying goes, but as mission co--temporary mission commander, I shouldn't let that...perception...sit out there."
He pauses a moment and frowns slightly. "Kind of that one last thing lingering out there to put the last mission to bed, you know?"
-
"Yup," Collins confirms. "I want to take care of something first, but I could meet you in the Gym after dinner?'
-
"Uh, sure," Graham says, turning to look at a console. Ordinarily, a chance to spar would be high on his list, but after a mellow day he's feeling like just chilling out...but at the same time, he recalls his "agreement" with Collins and her "condition"--time alone, between missions, is surely a risky time.
-
One of the men grabs the briefcase with little apparent effort and moves away from Kylah. The other says, "What's in the bag?" and pokes it with his club.
On the Bridge, Dr. T'Var's Life Sciences station shows that all is well. Onn and Bennett are talking quietly at the combined Nav/Helm station in front of the big chair.
-
Nia has been spending the time in orbit in sporadic but pleasant conversation with the others on duty, including Bennett. When she sees the lucky returnees from shore leave, she notes that apparently the Bridge crew will be reverting to its original lineup from this morning.
She continues talking to Bennett but nods at those she knows, noticing that at least two of them don't spare her a glance. The Coridanite--Rangin, who usually seems so affable and composed, looks as if he's been to see a double-feature of particularly grisly horror vids. And Graham has eyes only for... not Bennett, but Collins! Huh. Interesting. Is he playing hard-to-get for Bennett's benefit? Or maybe Nia misinterpreted that flush he displayed earlier after spotting the navigator on the Bridge.
Like hell I did. He's interested--Bennett said he came on too strong.
Well, who knows what's up with them, especially given Bennett's own relationship status. None of her business. Let Collins and Bennett and Graham and Matt duke it out, if that's how it is. Nia Onn doesn't fight over men. Who has the time... or need, for that matter?
She still likes the older Ensign, not just his physical appearance--both in uniform and out, as she recalls from the pool--but his demeanor. Strong, self-contained, nobody's fool. She'd like his company, especially someone with new tales to tell... Nia's spent a lot of time with a lot of people on board, hearing the same anecdotes over and over. Anyone with fresh stories is like rain on a parched field.
And he must have had plenty of adventures. Many of them are written on that faintly scarred, mature face of his. If I can just tear him away from the younger crowd, Nia thinks with amusement. Not that she's one to judge. Her closest "friend, plus..." is at least a decade younger than she. A smile haunts her lips as she looks down at her screen and makes up her mind to see what A.J. is doing tonight.
Nevertheless, while nodding at something Bennett's just said, she flicks another inquiring glance at Graham.
-
When the masked man comes near her and dares to touch her bag, Kylah feels a fresh wave of terror flood her veins. She wraps her arm around it protectively, hugging it to her chest. "Stay away from me. It is--it is none of your concern. There is nothing of value to anyone but me."
Turning in accusatory indignation to the leader, she blurts, "I know you cheated me. So you have my credits and my crowns. Is that not enough?"
-
He laughs cruelly. "As a matter of fact, no, it isn't. See what's in the bag, Lez."
Lez grabs at the bag and pushes Kylah's other shoulder hard as he does.
-
The thought of her mother's jewelry, her grandmother's zither, in the hands of this filth is too much for Kylah to bear. Everything that has happened to her today--no, more than that, over the past week--seems to erupt with volcanic fury.
"I said no!" she cries, recovering from the shove and latching onto her bag for dear life. "How dare you put your hands on me! Let go!" As small as she is, Kylah manages to keep hold of the straps as she spits out: "It is mine!"
-
"Unless you'd rather postpone again?" Collins asks half jokingly, half seriously, as she starts to notice exhaustion welling up through the fading euphoria of the afternoon.
-
Back on the bridge at the Science console, Rangin tries to put aside the last few hours and just concentrate on his work. The previous analysis had completed and he decides to run checks to see how accurate the estimates were. He blocks out the rest of the chatter on the bridge, not because he wouldn't mind joining in, but knowing that at some point Kylah is likely to return and the last thing he wants to do is think of her at this time or hear her voice.
-
Lez the thug pushes Kylah again and swings his club, striking a glancing blow against her right shoulder as she pulls back. The strap of the bag breaks and it starts to fall.
Rangin sees that the previous analysis was correct. The proximity-scan display, he notes, is changing minute by minute, given the heavy orbital traffic around the Yorktown.
-
Crying out at the sudden pain, Kylah almost falls but manages to keep her balance. Animal instinct kicks in and she refuses to let this man hurt her any further--this brief injury could be much worse unless she acts to stop him.
Still clutching the bag with her right hand, she sweeps her left down to her thigh in a well-practiced movement, yanks her knife from its holster, and darts forward to slash her attacker's club-wielding arm with the blade.
-
Kylah's blade pierces the man's forearm and he yells in pain. The bag is off-balance and unwieldy. The other thug drops the briefcase and moves forward, raising his club as he does.
-
Graham clears his throat, glancing down at the console--not that it's actually showing anything interesting.
The hell of it is I would have been happy to stay on duty earlier, but now that I had a nice walk and a fine drink, I'd rather...what? Maybe I need a massage... And ironically I had no purpose in going on leave except for...the snow globe...
He's got "massage" and "snow globe" in mind when he glances toward Bennett and Onn's station--only to catch Onn's eye as she's glancing his way. He immediately feels his face flush and redden and he jerks his head back to the console as it ha just alerted him to a dozen de-cloaking warbirds.
He clears his throat again and glances furtively at Collins. "I, ah...I'm not sure how much fight's in me today," he says. Although I sure feel better than Rangin looks, he notes. And where's Kylah, anyway? He shrugs apologetically. Maybe I should offer an alternative? 'Hey L-T, how about a mani-pedi, we can have adjacent chairs...' "Maybe we can play it by ear....who knows, maybe something in a completely innocuous watch managing a standard orbit will really piss me off, right?"
-
Kylah tries to hold on to the bag, but with her hurt shoulder she cannot maintain her one-handed grasp. It falls to the ground. When she looks up and sees the other man coming toward her, she redoubles her effort to drag her belongings backward--just when her back hits the wall again. She turns right but there is a wall there too--she is cornered.
When she lifts her head up to stare like a trapped wolf at the men surrounding her, sweat stings her eyes. "Stay away from me!" she screams, brandishing the knife.
-
The men pace before Kylah warily for a few seconds, and then one of them quickly darts in, on the attack. She slashes him in the side, but he brings his club down on her wrist, knocking the knife from it. Almost simultaneously, from the other side, the other man hits her in the temple, hard, with his club. Everything goes black and she feels herself falling.
Later - she can't be sure how much time has passed - she regains consciousness. She is alone. She has a terrible headache, and her wrist is very sore. Grit sticks to her cheek and palms as she hauls herself off the floor. Her bag has been ripped apart and the zither is badly broken. Her communicator is also smashed. Her uniform, knife and mother's jewelry are all missing.
Vargas looks at the big chair's chrono and hits the comm button. "Bridge to Transporter Room. Has Mr. Kylah returned from the surface yet?"
"No, sir."
Vargas turns to Ens. Meredith Davis, the duty Communications officer. "Hail her, please."
Davis taps her console. "Yorktown to Ens. Kylah, come in, please." She waits. "Yorktown to Ens. Kylah, please respond." She frowns. "No answer, sir." She taps additional keys. "Her communicator isn't showing up at all, sir."
-
When Collins hears what Davis has said, her body becomes alert. She spins her chair to face the center of the bridge waiting to hear what Vargas will say about this development.
-
Everything hurts. Kylah starts to take a step but she stumbles to her knees, her hands grabbing onto the bag for purchase. Her left wrist buckles, unable to bear her weight, and she cries out when she falls and finds herself staring down inside the bag. At once she notices the missing jewelry case. It is gone. Oh mother, it is gone! Even as she processes this, something is crunching beneath her knee, hurting it, and somehow she shifts to see what it is.
The communicator. She stares at it, numbly trying to understand where it came from. Then the memory returns and she lifts her left hand to her bosom. Her dress is torn down the front--they must have grabbed her by the flimsy material's neckline at some point; it is the only way her communicator could have been discovered. Even Kylah forgot all about it. So stupid. How could I not...
Her gaze lifting to the bag again, Kylah sees that the gift box she stuffed in earlier appears untouched, hidden behind some clothes in its hard protective box. And that is when she discovers the zither.
Her grandmother's zither--a cherished relic, a much-needed instrument vital for her role here on the Yorktown: mere wreckage. All the delicate crystal strings turned into shattered, ice-like shards. The shining, thin slate back is now nothing but sharp pieces.
She sobs in grief and reaches for it before the agonizing pain reminds her that her left hand is useless. Pulling it back, she holds it against her chest protectively, still crying.
After a few moments of silent tears, Kylah's sense of self-preservation reminds her that she might not be safe. They might return. Or she might be locked in here. Without her communicator she cannot contact anyone. And by now... by now, the ship might have left. The Yorktown must be gone by now, leaving her behind on this horrible planet. And she would deserve it. She was abandoning them, why should they not abandon her?
Somehow she closes up her bag and, hooking the strap around her good right arm, crawls with it, dragging both her aching body and the bag toward the only sliver of light she can find in the otherwise dark void of a room. Her head swims with every movement and nausea roils within her. The grimness of her situation weighs her down as well. The stark truth is that she is wounded, weaponless, alone and defenseless. If this light is not from a door, and the door does not open, Kylah does not know what she will do.
She continues crying even as she forces herself forward, both consciousness and hope fading with every step.
-
Rangin freezes on the bridge at the call that Kylah has gone missing and for one moment is torn between "What has she got herself into?" and "Could I have stopped it?"
But neither of those thoughts would help and he activates the science panel in front of him looking for the spot where her communicator was last located. It was perhaps a start to try and find her on the planet somewhere. He had no idea what had happened, but she was still a fellow shipmate and he needed to know what had befallen her.
-
Graham's head snaps away from the console to Davis, then Vargas--and then Rangin.
I assumed they were taking this leave together, he thinks, wondering if he was wrong or Rangin will have an explanation for the delay..
There's no reason to worry, he thinks, the local cops saw the area as safe a place, but...Shit. Anybody would have thought no place could be safer than OCIII...
Graham shoots to his feet, a slight lean toward the door. His head turns from Rangin to Vargas--and then Collins. "Permission to scramble a Security team for surface deployment, sir...sirs," he asks quickly. She's Elasian--ship's sensors ought to be able to find her, but wherever she is they'll need to beam down some boots on the ground...
-
When Graham jumps up, Collins does as well and moves to his side in solidarity. She looks at Vargas "With your permission, Commander?"
-
Kylah sees that the light is coming from the bottom edge of a corroded old metal door. It just barely ajar. She is able to force it open by putting her uninjured shoulder to it and pushing with all her might. Beyond it is a weed-strewn paved lot, and beyond that, several large, run-down buildings much like the one from which she just emerged. Everything is desolate and empty.
Rangin cross-checks the Communications logs and sees that Kylah's communicator last automatically registered on ship's sensors in the North Central neighborhood of the city of Thoth, about 20 minutes ago. Davis is just discovering the same thing, and tells Vargas.
The First Officer nods. "Mr. Collins, select and take charge of a landing party. Phaser-2s and tricorders. Mr. Davis, notify the Thoth Constabulary, provide a description and ID data for Mr. Kylah, and liaise with them going forward. Mr. Rangin, conduct a more intensive scan for Mr. Kylah and her communicator." He punches the comm button on his chair arm. "Vargas to Capt. Singh. Please report to the Bridge."
-
"Aye, Sir." Collins turns and presses the shipwide communications button. "Lieutenant Jones, Ensign Kjaerstad, and Ensign Rawlings to Transporter Room 3 armed and ready." She releases the button and turns to Graham. "With me." she says to him, then heads for the Turbolift.
-
Wincing at the light, Kyjah cannot help moaning aloud at the empty expanse before her. She is relieved to be outside, but she fears she lacks the strength to travel much farther. Still, she has no choice. She has already lost consciousness once; with her dizziness and nausea there is a significant chance she has a concussion. If she blacks out again in this secluded area, it is likely no one will find her until it is too late. Waves of exhaustion try to drag her down but she knows she must fight them.
She takes deep breaths in hopes the oxygen will refresh her and starts slowly forward. The bag--with only some shoes, a dress, the remains of her zither and the gift box--feels impossibly heavy as she pulls it along behind her. But she refuses to let go, she must not, let go. I have to fix it, He will be so furious, she thinks dazedly, the thought of her uncle's disapproval as great a burden on her as much as the bag.
Hours seem to pass before she looks up to see how far she has gone. The shabby buildings are closer but they seem to swim away from her, cruelly taunting Kylah in a game of cat and mouse. The longer she walks the farther away they look. She is certain she is near one of the buildings and she looks up. Is there an alley between them? Somewhere she can pass through to a street?
She turns her head too fast while searching and a shudder runs through her. Suddenly her stomach lurches, and barely in time she drops her bag, staggers over to some weeds and is sick, losing what little she has eaten and drunk today. After several spasms of her muscles she finally backs away while wiping her mouth in disgust. Staggering, Kylah shudders again, and now she cannot shop shivering. The perspiration that covered her body during the fight has long since dried, but she still feels as if she has been dropped into ice water.
"I cannot do this," she slurs, hugging herself with her one good arm, trying to pull up the torn collar to cover as much skin as she can. The exhaustion and nausea and cold--probably actually a fever or dehydration, she realizes dully--are too much to combat. All at once, like a marionette whose strings have been cut, Kylah crumples first to her knees and then to her side on the hard pavement, squeezing her eyes shut and cradling the bag against her shaking body like a pillow.
"I am sorry," she whispers over and over into the canvas. Whirling visions of her attackers' masks compete with the images of her mother and Aldaan's disappointed expressions. But it is Velir's angry, hurt face that is the last she remembers, and the last to whom she apologizes, before her lips fall silent and the world dwindles to gray.
-
By the time Cmdr Vargas asks for a better scan, Rangin''s fingers are already flying across the panel, staccato taps punching in the request to find Kylah. A shiver begins to run down his spine as he tries to push aside his worries and concerns about what could be happening on the planet's surface and concentrating on the one task only.
Aside from scanning for the communicator, Rangin considers that there must be a better way to find her, but Thoth is a veritable haystack to find a needle in, even one as sharp as Kylah. As they say, when looking for a needle use a magnet, something obvious that would be distinctive to her and her alone.
Concentrating on where the communicator was last noted, he starts a scan for human forms in the area and then narrows it down to only respond on Elasians, but whether it would be that accurate who knows. Searching for Klingons would be easier, the physiology was so different, but Rangin's mind is dragged back to the previous evening, Kylah lying there on the bed, looking for all the world as human as any. Rangin ground his teeth, if Elasian was too close to human it could just sweep right over her.
Something more specific, something only Kylah would have, Rangin hums to himself for a moment and realises what he is doing and knows what to look for. It was what had shown him that she had lied, something that was so dear and precious to her, she wouldn't ever let it go if she could. That zither, that damnable zither, the crystal structure of it would be different and possibly unique or at least a lot rarer on the planet than the people milling around on the surface.
The previous scans were set up and running and would provide a useful backup, but he sets up a new resonance scan which would send out a focused wave causing the crystal zither to vibrate in harmony and then let the scanners pick up the response. The irony was not lost on Rangin as he smiles. He had asked Kylah if she could play it for him after it was fixed, well, it appears that the time is now. Only this time, he would be playing it for her.
After all, it's hard to hide when the instrument you love is singing to the world.
-
In his scan, Rangin finds no Elasians among the almost a million people in Thoth. However, his resonance scan turns up over a thousand crystal or crystalline objects. He realizes that he is not certain of the exact type of crystal in Kylah's zither; he may wish to do further research before refining his scan.
Lt. JG Ryan Jones, Ens. Haakon Kjaerstad and Ens. Terrance Thayer "Two Tons" Rawlings promptly meet Collins and Graham in Transporter Room 3. Each red-shirted officer draws a phaser-2 from the arms locker, and Kjaerstad and Rawlings pick up Security tricorders, as well. They look eager and alert.
Capt. Singh arrives on the Bridge and is quickly briefed by Cmdr. Vargas. She orders two other Security teams to stand by to beam down. Ens. Mary Three Crows takes her seat at the Security console.
Kylah remains alone, bleeding and unconscious.
-
No Elasians - that cannot be right , Rangin eyes flicker over the readouts while simultaneously calling up the specifics for crystals used in Elasian zithers.
While the data is being retrieved he maps the presence of people and crystalline objects in the proximity to the last known location of Kylah's communicator and sets it up to show objects in near spatial contact with a person. When he gets the data, and the crystalline signature, he can then forward it to the Security detail for them to track locally on their tricorders.
Wait a minute - Rangin checks the location again, just how close was it to the bar that he had been in only an hour or so ago?
Shaking his head, he immediately flips the scan for Elasians to go planetwide, where is she, she cannot have just vanished off planet, can she?
-
In the turbolift, Collins says "We should get flashlights, too." She looks at Graham trying to gauge his emotions. "But she's probably just hooked up with some local guy and having some fun. No excuse, but typical Kylah." She tries to sound reassuring, but she doesn't fully believe what she'd just said.
-
At the first sign of the missing crew member, Nia was alerted. Now that a full alarm seems to have gone up, with Vargas even notifying the captain and a security team deployed, a small wrinkle appears above her brow as she frowns and shakes her head.
Seems like an awful lot of fuss for a flighty ensign who might've just decided Starfleet wasn't as much fun as regal cotillions or whatever she's used to back home. Then again, Nia ponders, those connections are probably why Vargas is up-in-arms. Wouldn't do to tell the Elasian ambassador that a member of his royal family went AWOL.
Nevertheless, she respects that the newer officers--Graham, Collins, Rangin--must be closer to the girl than she is. All Nia knows is what little she's seen during a couple of watches, and a whole mess of gossip about the ensign and Lt. JG Ferguson... and that Fastolfe guy, and what seems to be half the guests at the OCIII resort, depending on who's telling the story.
The watches told her little except that Ensign Kylah was competent and quiet. But if half of the rumors are true--and that's as much as Nia is inclined to believe--her ladyship seems to be experiencing what Nia herself did after leaving her home planet for the first time: uncaged bird syndrome. Once the little barred door is open, there's a whole world of freedom to explore. Maybe the ensign found her duties on the Yorktown too similar to being cooped up again.
Still, better safe than sorry. After a while of merely observing, Nia hears the orders from Vargas to Rangin and, watching what appears to be growing frustration on the Coridanite's attractive face, eventually leans over. "Ensign Rangin, might your scans be more effective if we were in a lower orbit?"
-
I put myself in situations.
Words from the previous night are running through his mind when Collins makes her comment.
A certain type of man...seeks out those who might be vulnerable, or alone...
I put myself in situations.
He knows at the back of his mind that Collins must be making a joke to lighten the mood, but it has the opposite effect.
For the first time in a very long time, Booker Graham is afraid: afraid of what they will find when they do locate Ens. Kylah.
His expression is flat when he glances at Collins. He does not hold her gaze, instead he methodically checks his phaser charge and settings again.
-
In the corridor on the way to the transporter, Collins locates a supply closet and grabs five flashlights. In the transporter room, she greets the others, hands each one a flashlight, and motions that they all get on the pads. Once all five are in place, Collins tells the chief "Please set us down as close as possible to Ensign Kylah's communicator's last known location." She stands alert as she awaits the disassembling of her molecules.
-
Collins and her landing party materialize on the street outside Ysobel's, in Thoth. It looks like a rundown bar.
The Yorktown's sensors cannot scan the entire surface of Anubis from a single orbital point at once, as the bulk of the planet itself is between the starship and the opposite side of the planet. A complete planetary surface scan may be accomplished from a polar orbit (going from north to south and back again, as if peeling an apple) in an hour or so, rather than from a synchronous or standard orbit (fixed over a single point on the planet's surface), as the ship is now in. In any event, Rangin still finds no Elasians.
He next learns from the Library Computer's file on Elasian musical instruments that three types of crystal - known as gileen, yral and coniral - are traditionally used to make Elasian zithers. He looks up the crystalline structure of each type, and cross-references them with the readings he already has. He finds only one "hit," in the industrial town of Hathor, about 70 km southeast of Thoth. Kylah's communicator was last automatically noted by ship's sensors at Ysobel's, the bar he and she visited in Thoth.
-
Collins visually surveys the area. "Nice area" she observes sarcastically. "Okay, this is as good a place as any to start. Jones, you, Graham, and Kjaerstad, check around here and in the back of the building. Rawlings and I will check out the inside." She waits until her crewmates acknowledge her orders then goes into the bar, hopefully followed closely by Rawlings.
-
"Yes, ma'am," Jones briskly says. "I'll check around back. Mr. Graham, why don't you and Mr. Kjaerstad look around out front here?" There are not many people on the street, and nothing you can see to suggest that Kylah has been in the area. The Norwegian unlimbers his tricorder and begins scanning.
Rawlings is right behind Collins as she enters the bar. A Bolian male calmly nods at you from behind the bar. Four uniformed Caldonians are whooping it up at one table. A single Human male is drinking in a booth, two Tellarite males are in another booth with a gadget of some kind between them, and two Human females are at a table. All of them seem to notice the two Starfleet Security officers who have just entered, but play it cool.
-
Collins allows her eyes adjust to the subdued lighting of the bar before returning the Bolian's greeting and approaching him. "I hope you will be able to help us," Collins indicates Rawlings standing beside her. "At any point this afternoon, did a young female Starfleet officer come in here? And do you happen to know where she went?" Collins knows that the bartender won't be very helpful, but at least it's a jumping off point.
After she gets her answer, she'll study the room for alternate exits and/or closets. If that doesn't yield anything useful, she'll go over to the table of Caldonians.
-
The bartender says, "Yes, there were two Starfleet people in here earlier. One was a young female. They left separately about half an hour ago, and I haven't seen them since."
From where she stands at the bar, Collins sees the main entry she just came in, several doors along the hallway to her right, and another door opposite the main entry and to the left by three meters or so. She doesn't know which, if any, are closets.
-
Rangin looks up at the sound of his name being called and looks around realising the Lt at helm had asked him a question and is looking for a reply. "Thank you ma'am," he replies with an acknowledging nod, "but my scans are more effective when I know what I am looking for."
As the cross matches come in, he face becomes a puzzled mask. "That cannot be right" he mutters under his breath, but the computer can only display the possible to him. Somehow Ensign Kylah had travelled quite a distance in a short space of time. Rangin begins to sweat with worry as he wonders just what had happened. There was no reason for her to have travelled that far if indeed it was here, but it was the only match he had.
Quickly he sends details of the crystalline structure of Kylah's zither to Collins and Graham for them to scan using their tricorders in the vicinity of the bar, but doubts they will find much.
Then with that one single hit, Rangin turns all the scanners onto that area looking for life signs in the vicinity, hoping against hope that he finds something.
Straightening up and taking a deep breath, he calls out. "Captain, there is no sign of Ensign Kylah in Thoth, but I believe I have a lock on her zither instead. I am unsure how but it appears to be located in Hathor at...." Rangin reads off the co-ordinates showing the jump in distance. "I'm confirming for any life signs in the area."
-
Collins moves towards the Caldonians, visually examining the various doors as she does. One of these has to be an exit, or a rest room, or even a basement door, she reasons to herself. She quietly says to Rawlings "Do a scan. See which of these doors lead outside and which leads downstairs."
-
"You're welcome," the bartender says to Collins's back. "Glad to help."
Rawlings smiles a little at what the bartender said, and unlimbers his tricorder.
"No scans," the bartender says sharply. "House rules. Our customers hate 'em." Several of the patrons do indeed look uneasy. The Caldonians don't look at all jolly now, and the two women hurriedly get up to leave. Rawlings looks at Collins.
-
Collins turns back to the bartender. "I'm sorry, but we really do have to." She keeps her voice even and polite. "We're trying to find a missing Starfleet officer. Anything not directly related to our search will be ignored. You have my word. Okay." She smiles, but not too broadly, and offers her right hand.
-
Collins's and Graham's communicators both beep.
The Captain acknowledges the xenobiologist's sensor update. "Thank you, Mr. Rangin. Carry on."
Rangin finds a single life sign near the crystal. It reads as humanoid but he can't be sure it's Elasian. There are other lifesigns, also humanoid, not far away.
The bartender crosses his arms and doesn't take Collins's hand. "No, sorry. You got a warrant?"
The two women slip out the door. Every other eye in the place is now looking at Collins and the bartender.
-
"Just a moment, please" Collins tells the bartender, then moves a few steps away from him and opens her communicator. "Collins, here"
-
The bartender looks even less pleased. The Caldonians begin talking quietly and urgently among themselves.
Collins hears a voice message from Rangin, with details of the crystalline structure of Kylah's zither for the landing party's tricorder scans.
-
"Captain, I have a single lifeform at that point. I can't confirm that it is Ens. Kylah," Rangin tries to hide the concern in his voice and keep calm. "but I would recommend sending a party to investigate it and the surrounding area. Whoever it is, does not appear to be completely alone."
-
Collins turns to Rawlings "Let's go. I don't think we're going to get anywhere here." Once outside the bar, she opens her communicator in front of Rawlings, Kjaerstad, and Graham. "Collins to Jones, Meet us out front, we have new info."
While they wait for Jones, Collins asks Graham and Kjaerstad what, if anything, they were able to find.
-
Nia scowls as she listens to the various reports. "Seventy klicks is a relatively long way to travel in less than a half-hour--assuming that's when she was last in Thoth, and for that matter, what land transportation options are available to her. Has anyone narrowed down an approximate schedule for Ensign Kylah? Either by witnesses or communicator check-ins? If our last sighting is significantly less than twenty minutes ago, I'd say we're not talking about regular travel."
She twists back to Rangin. "Any of those lifesigns moving, Mr. Rangin? Would be nice to know if she's on route somewhere."
-
Graham starts to open his mouth to object when Collins has him outside canvassing the area--at best somebody good with a tricorder might find some trace, but I'd be better used talking to people in the bar...
But he shuts it again and nods--got to put some trust in her and Rawlings, who seems solid... He tricorder scans the area and visually looks for anyone sitting in a window who might have been hanging out watching the sights all day. Fat chance, he thinks.
Graham reports on anything worthwhile he observed.
Assuming that isn't anything worthwhile
Graham is visibly tense. "What's the word - the new info? And was the bartender cooperative?" he asks, jerking his thumb toward the bar.
-
At the Lt's comment, Rangin looks down at his feet, a cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach that he could possibly have been the last one to see her, and he had no idea what she had done next. He wasn't sure if he should say anything, in fact he hadn't even known she was still down there. Why hadn't she come back up when shore leave was over, why was she still down on the planet. The thoughts ran through his head, had she told the Yorktown the same lies, she had given him.
She had lied to him, hurt him and yet, for all her faults, he still wants to know she is safe back on board, the alternatives are worse.
Wiping his hands on his trousers to try and remove the sweat from them, he turns back to the science panel to get the answer about whether the life signs are moving or not. "Yes, ma'am, scanning now."
-
T'Var turns toward Singh. "Captain, I would like to be a member of any landing party sent to investigate the latest readings," she says. "If Ensign Kylah is injured, a medical officer should be present."
The doctor had wanted to join the original party, but for whatever reason, the captain did not feel it necessary. Hopefully, she will feel differently now.
-
"No, the bartender was no help, as expected" Collins tells Graham and Kjaerstad. "Rangin has identified the resonance signature of the crystals in Kylah's zither. Apparently she brought it down with her." She transmits the frequency into to the tricorders. "If you two want to have a go at the bartender, be my guest. Rawlings and I will stay out here."
-
Rangin refines his scan. The lifeform closest to the Elasian crystal is of a mixed-race humanoid genome, and stationary. The nearest other lifesigns are about 200 meters away; some are moving, and some are not. None are approaching the stationary lifeform.
Jones joins the other redshirts on the sidewalk outside Ysobel's and reports that he found nothing in back. Graham (who does not have a tricorder) and Kjaerstad likewise came up empty in the short time they had to look around on the street. Rawlings says to Collins, "With respect, I wouldn't say the bartender was no help, ma'am. He did confirm that two Starfleet officers, one of them a young female, were here and left about half an hour ago. Perhaps we might show him Mr. Kylah's picture? And do we know who the other officer was with her...?"
T'Var remembers that Collins, not the Captain, chose the members of her landing party. Singh now says, "I'm not sure yet if your services will be needed, Doctor, but when the time comes and if necessary, yes, you may go."
-
Rangin raps on the scanner panel, frowning at the results and hoping that the result will magically change into Kylah, but it stubbornly shows something he is just not expecting. Could it be Kylah - all Rangin really knew is that she was humanoid from Elas. Was there really more to hear than meets the eye, perhaps yet another secret she would never tell him.
Rangin instructs the scanner to identify the two humanoid genomes, but somehow its extraneous to what he can see there That point is the only match he can find for Kylah's zither. So, if it isn't Kylah, then it's someone who will know what has happened to her and either way, they had to get down there.
"Captain, I have a single humanoid at that point, not moving. No other matches found for the crystals used in her zither.No-one currently approaching them, other humanoids 200 at metres and moving away."
Rangin takes a deep brath and stands straight "Sir, I would suggest a party goes down to find the person. It may either be Ensign Kylah, or if not, someone who knows what happened to her and has obtained her zither somehow."
-
Collins considers Rawlings' suggestion. "Yes, good idea. Graham, go in with Rawlings. Meanwhile, Jones, did you get the data I'd just sent? Scan for traces of those crystals, please."
-
The Captain, "Agreed. Thank you, Mr. Rangin." She punches the comm button on her chair arm. "Security, Singh here. Send another landing party to the coordinates Mr. Rangin will be relaying to Transporter Room 1. You may find Ens. Kylah there, or someone who has obtained her Elasian zither, perhaps by theft."
Ens. Jeanne St. Croix responds, "Aye, Captain. We're on our way."
Jones scans for the crystals and finds no trace. Graham and Rawlings go back into the bar.
-
Graham whispers to Rawlings on the way in "When I ask you to pull up a picture of Kylah to show the bartender, pull up a picture of any female human crew member besides her."
-
Rawlings nods.
The bartender is still there, and does not look happy to see you. He leans on the bar with both dark-blue hands and stares at you. "Yes?"
-
The grayness will not fade entirely to black. It lightens enough for Kylah's eyes to open and see blurred shapes, thin pale fingers stained with something that seems rust-colored. It takes a while for her to recognize them as her own. When she tries to lift her head, the nausea hits her again, along with vertigo, and she cannot bear to move very much. Still, she is able to notice the material of her canvas bag, against which she was lying, and which is now a deeper red than usual--warm and damp. Blood, she thinks with dull objectivity. On my hand. I must be bleeding. Normally she would panic at this discovery, but her emotions seem distant and unreachable.
Keep moving, she orders herself. And like a trained soldier she obeys, forcing her right hand to drag itself to the ground. The pavement's coldness briefly disturbs the cocoon of sleepiness that tempts her. She pulls her knees into position and begins to crawl. At one point an agonizing mistake finds her leaning on her left hand and the pain from her wrist elicits a sharp cry of shock. It does not stop her for long. Since she cannot use that hand for support, she hooks her left elbow around one of the bag's straps; at least it can be useful in taking her bag with her.
She is not even sure where she is, or where she should be heading. But Kylah inches forward, making only a little progress before she must pause to shut her eyes and banish the dizziness. Each time it gets harder and harder to force her eyes open again. I will be in a coma soon. Just like Fujishiro. The thought of her colleague reminds her that her wrist probably hurts because of the slime devil attack.
Of course: that explains it. That is where she is. She never left the Sakathian station. The other crew must have left her behind, they do not know she is still here. Her head wound and the bleeding now make grim sense. The altered creatures got her. She will be changing soon. At least I will finally be strong. The creatures are powerful. Hard to hurt. No second-thoughts, no doubts, just determination, anger and hunger. It will not be so bad to have such single-minded strength.
Except she could hurt someone else. I do not want to do that, Kylah thinks, stopping her movements at once. She does not know her crewmates very well, it is only her first assignment, but... T'Var seems to understand her. Rangin... he made her laugh, he kept her secret about her knives. No, she would not want to hurt either of them. Except she has the gnawing suspicion that she already has.
Velir Rangin's face swims before her. Did she harm him? He helped her against the slime devil, they fought together as if choreographed. Has she repaid him by lashing out, now that she is turning into a monster? Maybe he is the one who attacked her in self-defense. She would not blame him. He must have had no choice, or he would not have done it.
She starts to weep and sits back against her heels. Maybe it is better for her to just wait for the end. Maybe she will not turn completely, just like Fujishiro. She could just close her eyes and sink into a coma. It will prevent her from turning completely into a beast, someone toxic and deadly to everyone she meets. Yes, she would like that. I will not be a bother to anyone if I just sleep.
The shuttle with her escaping crewmates has left her behind, the station is full of monsters like her, and soon she will be eaten by one of her own kind. Or, like Fujishiro, she will fall asleep until her body gives up. That sounds like the best solution. Kylah is still crying but at least she knows what to do. She will crawl until she just drops. So Kylah begins her pitiful journey again.
Sure enough, it does not take long. After only another two meters, all strength ebbs from her and she drops, this time her face falling on the cold, hard pavement, gravel digging into her cheek. But the pain is far away and soon she is no longer conscious enough to notice.