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Thread: Star Trek RPG - Mission #4: "Codex Aelyrr"

  1. #301
    Member Elendil's Heir's avatar
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    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).
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 11 May 2015 at 08:33 PM.

  2. #302
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    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!

  3. #303
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    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.
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

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    Rangin leaves without seeing Kylah behind him.

    The bartender looks at Kylah with wry amusement. "Will there be anything else, miss?"

  5. #305
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    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.
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

  6. #306
    Ape must not kill ape! general_urko's avatar
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    Graham slips into the row next to T'Var. "Hey Doc," he whispers, pointing up toward the stage. "How's the 'patient'?"

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    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?"
    Last edited by choie; 12 May 2015 at 10:50 AM.

  8. #308
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    "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?"

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    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."

  10. #310
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    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."

  11. #311
    Ape must not kill ape! general_urko's avatar
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    "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."

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    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."

  13. #313
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    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.

  14. #314
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    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.
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

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    "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?"
    Last edited by choie; 13 May 2015 at 07:06 AM.

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    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?"
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

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    "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."

  18. #318
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    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."
    Last edited by choie; 13 May 2015 at 08:24 AM.

  19. #319
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    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.
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

  20. #320
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    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?"

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    "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."
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

  22. #322
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    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.
    Last edited by choie; 13 May 2015 at 11:52 AM.

  23. #323
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    "Acknowledged," comes the response from the ship. "Stand by."

  24. #324
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    "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."

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    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.
    Last edited by choie; 13 May 2015 at 05:45 PM.

  26. #326
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    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.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 14 May 2015 at 01:12 PM.

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    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.

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    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.
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

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    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.

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    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?"

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    "No, he's not back yet," the Bolian says. "Go ahead." A gale of laughter goes up from the Caldonians' table.

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    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 naïve; 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.
    Last edited by choie; 14 May 2015 at 01:57 PM.

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    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.

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    "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?"

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    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.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 14 May 2015 at 06:09 PM.

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    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.

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    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.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 15 May 2015 at 12:38 AM. Reason: Usual writing credits.

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    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."
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 15 May 2015 at 09:41 PM. Reason: The usual suspects, er, writing credits.

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    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 naïve 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.
    Last edited by choie; 15 May 2015 at 10:17 PM.

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    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.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 16 May 2015 at 11:02 PM.

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    "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."

  42. #342
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    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.

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    "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?"

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    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?"

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    "Yup," Collins confirms. "I want to take care of something first, but I could meet you in the Gym after dinner?'

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    "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.

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    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.

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    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.

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    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?"

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    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.

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