Star Trek RPG - Mission #5: "Of Captains and Capos"

[Elendil's Heir]

In the dim light of the Paramount, Kylah sees no one who looks like Cledd Okmyx. The tune being played by the jazz combo is hauntingly familiar, although she cannot quite place it.

Rangin says, "No, nothing else suspicious to report, ma'am. Sounds like you know just about everything I do about our situation." The Coridanian xenobiologist thinks a moment. "I'd rather have Mr. Garcia up here, if there's a chance we'll be busting down a door and going in with phasers drawn. We don't know if the guards with the mainframe in the basement are in touch with the other guards who're upstairs with the hostages, but it seems a safe bet. Where would you have the seven people in the apartment beamed - back to the ship?"

[general_urko]

Graham continues to be impressed by how consistenly Kylah is playing her role.

"Uh, clearly my...ah, doll would like something near the dance floor," he says with small hand gesture in that direction.

He nods his head in Morris' direction. "My buddy Joe here'll make it worth your while if you can recommend us to a 'specially nice table."

He hopes Morris realizes that Graham knows he didn't pay quite enough attention to be able to determine what amount of local currency he would need to hand the waiter to thread the needle between coming as across as chintzy versus crazy.

[SidonianGal]

Rangin's questions deepen the already-forming scowl on Nia's brow. "Where do I want them beamed? Wait a second... I could've sworn the Captain told me you'd arranged for the whole room to be beamed up to two different transporter rooms, with security standing by ready to contain anyone with weapons. Did I get that wrong?"

She knows she didn't--Rangin somehow forgot. But that doesn't seem like him. Unless... A possible reason for this uncharacteristic lapse occurs to her: his mistrust and possible defensiveness, given everything that went down with Booker.

She shakes her head. "C'mon, Rangin. Were you expecting me to override your decision? Just because I didn't come up with it? Because that's not it at all. Your plan was an excellent one, and I'm just here to help you see it through. I'll be honest--the only command decision I disagree with, at least the from what little I've heard so far, is the original composition of the party." She lowers her voice even though they're alone. "I swear, I don't know what perverse instinct made you pick Ensign Kylah, considering. Sheer bloody-mindedness, as a buddy of mine would say. But whatever--hopefully that choice won't bite us on the ass and she'll avoid stumbling into captivity for one mission."

She lifts a hand and waves the matter aside. "Okay. Point is, I'm with you: the three apparent guards will be transported to the ship, and the four possible hostages transported likewise... each set to a different room. Both rooms well-peppered with security officers.

"Now to your other issue: I agree that it's likely the two pairs of guards are somehow in touch with each other. In fact, that's part of what worries me. There's a minuscule chance that our timing and luck could be really bad, and that the transporters will kick in while one of the guards is talking on their, uh... telephone devices." Nia can't recall if that's what they call their communications tech, but it's probably close enough.

"Imagine you're on the other end of the conversation and suddenly your cohort vanishes mid-sentence. You're sure as hell not gonna stay in one place. If you're one of the mainframe guards, you'd probably come up here to check things out. Or you're getting in touch with any colleague or boss on the outside to let them know something's wrong." Her fingers tap her hip while she thinks. "It's really unlikely, but I've lost such gambles before.

"How about we get Garcia up here--I'm with you, we can use the help just in case--but have him tell the guys in the car to keep the engine running. You, me, Garcia and maybe Zabo or whoever can stand outside the hostage location listening in on what I hope will be a nice, easy transport. Assuming that goes as planned, we move down to the mainframe area and take stock of whatever the situation is. If the guards still there, oblivious, then we can transport the mainframe up to the ship. I figure the guards'll try to contact the men up here with the hostages--unsuccessfully--or they'll possibly flee. We follow discreetly behind and hope they lead us to the Big Boss, assuming he wasn't one of the three we just trapped on the ship."

"Agree?" If so, Nia will send the instructions to Garcia. Then she'll head out with Rangin and look for Zabo and any other of the Krako boys, filling them in too before they sneak up to surround the door possibly containing the hostages. Frankly she'd rather kick the Krako contingent out entirely--they're an unknown quantity to her and may be in on the kidnapping--but if there's about to be some kinda chase, a vehicle might be necessary, along with backup.

In fact... speaking of backup... Logic has been nagging at her ever since she beamed over. She just took Rangin to task for his ability to pick a team. It's absolutely crazy for this mission to consist of a xenobiologist, a communications officer, and--as long as she's being honest, which she almost always is--a pilot. Why Singh picked her for this, Nia has no idea. But she'll be damned if she duplicates the bizarre personnel choices being made right and left by the Yorktown's senior officers.

She flips open her communicator. "Onn to Captain Singh. Ma'am, we're about ready to get in position. But I'd like to request an addition to the team. We're badly lacking in firepower and muscle over here, and we may need both." In fact, since door-busting duties could be required, we should probably have our living, breathing battering ram in on this. "If possible, I'd like to request a security officer--in particular, Ensign Rawlings."

She hopes Singh comes through for her; it's really a no-brainer as far as she's concerned--Security is mandatory on a mission like this. Admittedly, the idea of seeing the massive, muscular Double-T in the same snappy garb the other men here have on is icing on the cake.

[Elendil's Heir]

Morris smiles understandingly at Graham and greases the palm of the waiter. The four of you are shown to a nice spot, a single table near the dance floor. The music is louder here, but not too loud for conversation. Even from this new perspective, Kylah sees no one who looks like Cledd Okmyx. T'Var looks around with interest.

Rangin reddens. "We'd discussed beaming them all out, yes, but I didn't think that was approved for sure. I... have no objections to your plans, ma'am."

Garcia says via communicator, "On my way, ma'am." Zabo and his two other mooks check their Tommy guns and prepare to come along with Onn and Rangin.

From the Yorktown, Singh says, "Acknowledged and approved, Lieutenant. Stand by." Just a minute or so after Garcia knocks and enters the apartment, Ens. Terrance Thayer "Two Tons" Rawlings, resplendent and massive in a dark Gangland Chicago suit with a shiny gold-patterned tie and gold cufflinks, beams down. Zabo's eyes widen.

The new arrival grins at Onn. "Reporting for duty, ma'am."

[SidonianGal]

Nia has to hold back a delighted chuckle, though she doesn't hide the approval in her gaze. "Wardrobe must've had fun fitting you. But they did a damn good job." She has to admit there's something extremely... attractive... in this ancient attire. Booker must be wearing this same sorta outfit too. Mmm. Hope we meet up before he changes. She can't picture it in her mind, but now's not the time for such reveries anyway.

"Seriously, I'm glad to have you with us, Double-T," she says in only a marginally less amused tone. She fills him in on the plan, then tells everyone to be ready to move as stealthily as possible. Then she hesitates and comes up with a few last questions.

"I'd feel better doing a quick recon before we head down there. Zabo, you know these guys' mindsets here better than I do. If a woman like me walks down the hall and is seen by one of the guards--just in case they happen to open the door for some reason, I dunno, to get some air or whatever--are they likely to take it in stride, or will they get suspicious? I figure I have a better chance of being ignored than a bunch of men with those weapons. Seems like they'd probably just think I'm a local. Or a--"

Her mind suddenly conjures the memory of Andy Johnson reading her some saucy novels he called 'Mills and Boons.' She's never asked why they're called that--of course, he's always trotting out something he calls ancient rhyming slang, so maybe that's it. At any rate, they enjoyed acting out the silly romance scenes, and some of them included the words she supplies now. "--Uh, a floozy. Or tart."

To Rawlings, she offers, "You know Security drills. Come up with an order for the rest of you to travel in. I'm thinking you and the two big gunmen in front, Zabo, Garcia and Rangin behind. If that sounds off, arrange us however you need. Assume I'll already be down there... depending on Zabo's answer."

Her focus shifts to the Communications officer. "Garcia. Can you set up your tricorder to pick up sounds from behind a door, amplify them a bit? Once we're there I'd like to be able to listen in before telling Chief Nguyen to start the transporters."

Finally, while everyone mulls over their answers--and Garcia, hopefully, makes whatever calibrations he needs to his tricorder--she flips open her communicator again. "Onn to Nguyen. Chief, we're moving to stake out the apartment now. Once we're in position, I'll give a very quiet count of three. Are both rooms ready, with Security in place?"

[choie]

Kylah shakes her head silently at Mr. Graham--he probably took a more accurate look around the club than she could, but she might as well let him know she does not recognize anyone either. Then she turns in her chair just slightly so she can watch the musicians. The music feels like a mosquito buzzing around her, a melody flittering around her brain. Strange, she has very little experience with music of this time period, at least the popular works. Perhaps it is just very catchy. She certainly picked the melody up quickly--but then, she has always done so.

To be honest, she would not be upset if Cledd were not here--or at least, if they must wait for a little while. This is... relaxing, somehow.

Of the combination of musicians, the pianist impresses her most of all, and she leans over to watch his hands. Perhaps she should see if the Yorktown has some similar instrument on which she could learn. The Vulcan lute she played at Fujishiro's funeral was, like her zither, plucked or strummed. If she cannot have her zither, she would like an entirely different experience. As she continues her almost silent hum, her fingers absently mimic the line of the music, pressing down on the tablecloth as if it has its own keys.

[Elendil's Heir]

Zabo says, "Well, you're a lot better-dressed than most dames in a dump like this, so yeah, that might put 'em a little on-edge. Make 'em kind of suspicious, you know?"

Rawlings glances at Zabo, then looks back at Onn. "With all due respect, ma'am, I don't know these... Iotian gentlemen. Sure you don't want this to be a Starfleet-only op?"

Garcia says thoughtfully, "I haven't done that before, Lieutenant, but I'll see if I can figure something out." The Communications specialist opens his tricorder's display panel and begins tinkering.

From the Yorktown, Nguyen says, "We're ready here, Mr. Onn. We have Security teams standing by in both Transporter Rooms 1 and 2. At the Captain's order, they've familiarized themselves with the faces of the CAG team members from the Potemkin personnel files, so they'll be able to sort them out in a hurry, if necessary."

Morris sees Kylah's fingering on the tablecloth and shares a small smile. He says, "It is a nice tune, isn't it, Ensign?"

The waiter returns. "Something from the bar, ladies, gentlemen? A bite to eat?"

[SidonianGal]

Nia nods appreciatively toward Garcia, then Rangin. "Can you lend Garcia a hand if he needs one, Mr. Rangin? I know you're an expert with sensors." Into the communicator, she says, "Thank you, Chief. Excellent prep. I'll let you know when we're in position."

But even as she speaks, her mind is distracted by Rawlings's comment. Shit. Double-T's right. But his timing stinks. She'd rather he not have told three gangsters with massive guns that they're not deemed trustworthy. Her thoughts race to find a way to save the situation diplomatically.

"Of course, Ensign," she says carefully while she figures out what to say. "I got ahead of myself. That's why a Security officer is so valuable on a team." Nia aims her best smile at the Iotians, particularly Zabo. "First, I appreciate your advice. I wasn't aware of your culture's clothing differences." And thanks a lot to Wardrobe for that. "Second, I'm sorry... Your professionalism made me entirely forget protocol. But Ensign Rawlings is right. It's against Starfleet regulations to put civilians in the front line of any potentially lethal operation. We may be dressed in your garb, but we have years of training in situations like this. Honoring the Federation as you do, I hope you'll understand that we have to follow the rules."

She hesitates; she doesn't want them waiting here, or anywhere near them. "Actually, it'd be extremely helpful if you three could wait in the car. We absolutely must be ready to follow anyone suspicious who flees the building." Her eyebrow raises as she looks back at Rawlings. "That sound like a better plan to you, Ensign?" Nia's stare hopefully conveys that she needs him to follow her lead on this not-entirely-b.s. excuse she's concocted.

[general_urko]

Graham glances around at his crewmates briefly, then broadens his shoulders to their widest and stretches backwards a bit in his chair.

If I understand Terran gangland culture correctly, might as well play the game best as I can...what's the expression? Alpha Male?

"You look like you want to dance, d-- ah, dolllface," he says, gently putting a hand over Kylah's fidgeting fingers.

It's not entirely an act in response to Morris' comment. He has no reason to distrust Morris' intentions, but the last thing Kylah needs is some dude trying to crawl up her skirts, honest affection or no, right now...

It's part of the act...well, sort of. It's a signal. Stand the fuck down and stay the hell clear, and let her be, whether you're an Iotian bouncer or for all I care the nicest guy in Starfleet.

"What's the, ah, specialty of the house? We'll take one all around..." He then says, glancing at the waiter. He frowns a little bit, then leans forward conspiratorally. "We was, uh, hoping to buy a drink for an acquaintance of my buddy, Joe..." He lowers his voice. "Cledd. Cledd Okmyx. We heard this was a good place to have a, ah, quiet, private conversation...can you help us out, friend?"

[Elendil's Heir]

Rawlings says, "Yes, ma'am. That makes good sense to me."

Zabo doesn't look pleased. "Eh, I got some guys in the cars already. Tell you what - we'll stay here, and be ready to back you up if you need us. Don't worry, lady - we can handle ourselves if things get ugly."

The waiter says, "We're known for our martinis, sir. And Mr. Okmyx is unavailable at the moment, but he often mingles with the guests later in the evening."

[choie]

The band is loud enough that Kylah can barely hear Lt. Morris's question, and she responds only with a smile. Just as the music reaches a particularly engaging section, a large hand covers her wrist, and Mr. Graham suggests that she might like to dance. The warmth of his touch, the invitation in his tone, send her mind reeling.

Jan puts his hand over hers, a jolt of delicious electricity leaping from his skin to hers. Is it the spores? Is it genuine attraction to him? Kylah does not know, but it leaves her breathless. He asks, "How do you know you will not feel the same way again? Who knows what the future might bring?"

In the nightclub, in the present, she goes still and her mouth parts slightly in shock. A barrage of memories attack her in short, disjointed jabs.

"Jan, please... I cannot..." Kylah must draw back further to evade his kisses. "No, please. Can we go somewhere else? You--you mentioned a nightclub, and dancing. Can we go there?"

But he insists he is not dressed correctly for the venue. "...I could go change and then meet you in the nightclub, or, if you like, you could come up to my room and wait just a little there...?"

Now they are in his suite. Jan touches the entertainment system's controls and quiet jazz fills the room. He takes her into his arms. "You know, we could just dance here, if you like. We don't have to go out at all..."

...She tastes the wine on his lips, his tongue. When his hand clutches her hair to draw her even closer, Kylah starts to feel overwhelmed. She’s aware of his strength more than ever and, as euphoric as the spores and his own intense desire are making her, she senses that things are going too far. “Jan,” she says when their mouths part, “we were supposed to go to the club.... I did not plan for this...”

"Vacations are meant to be spontaneous," Jan murmurs. He leans back a little, touching Kylah's chin and lifting her face for another kiss, and she is again silenced by the thrill of this almost electrical contact. His free hand slips through a gap in her dress and touches her bare hip, then slowly moves upwards... Soon he has effortlessly untied the thin silk ribbon that keeps her dress’s halter top in place, and she is exposed, his expert hands everywhere...

With a gasp, Kylah yanks her hand free and cradles it as if scalded. She looks at the man across from her, betrayal and accusation widening her eyes, until she realizes that it is just Mr. Graham. He is already conversing with the waiter, not paying attention to her--not the rapt attention of a seducer.

Her confused gaze falls to the empty place setting in front of her. The small blank canvas of the tablecloth acts like a screen upon which her mind projects a hazy image of Jan. He was tall and fair, elegant and smooth of speech; Mr. Graham is darker, shorter, with a gruff and far less artful voice. They are almost direct opposites. How could she possibly confuse them?

It must be the return of her empathic sense. Just as before in the Syndicate building's lobby, when the gangster beat that stranger so cruelly, Kylah has been forced to remember--to feel--traumatic memories. The emotions churned up in reaction are as vivid as when originally experienced.

This must stop. She must create new memories, to face what she fears and realize that the past is not the present.

She blinks away the tears glazing her eyes--please, please let the others not have seen them!--and looks back at Graham, then up at the waiter. "Do tell us when Mr. Okmyx arrives," she blurts. "I have heard much about him." Then she jerks her attention back to Mr. Graham and--though the music no longer delights her--forces out: "Yes. I would like to dance. Please."

[SidonianGal]

Since the odds seem in Nia's favor--she really can't picture how the transporter plan will fail--she decides to swallow her unease regarding the Krako crew. "All right, if Ensign Rawlings doesn't object. Stay here."

Once she's assessed Rawlings's reaction, she tilts her head toward Rangin. "You know which apartment we're looking for? Share it with the rest of us. Rawlings, come up with the best formation. As soon as Garcia has that tricorder rigged up, we'll go. We wanna move beyond the apartment and preferably take cover behind a corner or in an alcove or a frickin' potted plant, if that's all we've got... not sure what we'll find down there. Phasers on medium stun and at the ready. Stun anyone with a weapon."

She moves closer to her fellow Starfleet officers and murmurs under her breath, "For that matter, if these boys move in without our having asked, stun the hell out of them too."

[Elendil's Heir]

The waiter says, "Certainly, ma'am." He clears his throat. "Anything you'd like to order...?"

T'Var says unexpectedly, "I believe I will try a martini."

Morris looks at her, then back to the waiter. "Uh... make that two, please. Capone Specials."

"Very good, sir."

Rawlings says in response to Zabo, "OK, we'll try that." He thinks a moment, and then to Onn he says, "I'll go first; you follow me. Mr. Rangin, you go next, with Garcia behind you. Rangin and I flank the bad guys' door, me to port, him to starboard; Onn and Garcia hang back on either side. If we have to bust down the door, I'll go through first, then Rangin, if necessary. Agreed?"

Everyone confirms their phaser-1 settings.

Garcia says, "I think my tricorder's all set."

[SidonianGal]

After a nod and compliments to Garcia for his ingenuity, Nia raises an eyebrow at Rawlings. Let's see, a ten-year vet at landing parties versus a tiny little Coridian who's been in Starfleet for two years, tops. Seriously?

"The order's fine, but I'm swapping Rangin with myself as far as where we're all standing if and when the fun starts." She casts a quick look Rangin-ward. "Just being pragmatic, Ensign. My scales give me at least some armor advantage against propulsive ammo--not much, but it's still better than none."

She gets in line behind Rawlings, than quips, "Besides, seeing a lizard-person might freak them out enough to delay their reactions a bit. Who knows." With a deep breath, she looks at her team. "All likelihood this is overkill, and we're just gonna be spectators to the world's dullest audio broadcast. Once we get to our positions, Garcia, work your magic to see if we can listen."

Before they start down, Nia flips open her communicator with her left hand. "Onn to Nguyen. Chief, I'm keeping an open line so I can give you an easy count of three. I'll be pretty quiet, so listen carefully. And low volume on your end would be equally golden, please."

Once she hears back from Nguyen, she'll give the signal to Rawlings to start moving.

[general_urko]

Graham hardly notices Kylah pulling her hand away as he turns his attention to the waiter. It's not unexpected--she's been doing yeoman's work playing a part, but if he we were in her shoes he certainly want his scarred mitts on him more than needed.

In part he's distracted by T'Var voluntarily ordering a martini...he can't quite remember what the line is on Vulcans drinking, although T'Var has been surprising before...

When she catches his attention again, he blinks dumbly for a moment, her words briefly not registering and making sense.

Yes I would like to dance. Please.

She must really frigging like to dance... he thinks. Then after a second it makes sense: she's wanted to speak with him out of Morris' earshot before. She must have noticed something, and this is her way to do it...

The first response that comes to mind is "good thinking, Ensign," which would obviously blow the whole thing.

So he stays in character--try to be suave, Booker...--and stands and with a slightly exaggerated display of chivalry extends an arm to help her up.

"Of course...doll.. Whatever you want."

[choie]

Kylah shakes her head at the waiter while grasping Mr. Graham's outstretched arm as if it is a life preserver. She eases her grip when they are both standing and move toward the dance floor.

Then she lets go entirely and hesitates. She knows how she danced with Jan, how he held her. But she is uncertain what to do, what posture she should take, how to hold her arms. Instead she looks up at her colleague and gives a helpless little shrug. "How should I... What do you need me to do? You must take charge, just..." She lowers her gaze to his shoulder and tries to keep her voice even. "Not too close. Please."

[Elendil's Heir]

Rawlings grins at Onn. "I thought you might do that, ma'am."

Nguyen says quietly over the Yorktown comm channel, "Acknowledged, Mr. Onn. Standing by."

Zabo and his men stay behind, as agreed. The four Starfleet officers very quietly go out into the dingy hallway of the apartment building, and then move down two doors and take their positions. Garcia has his tricorder out and muted. Rawlings, phaser drawn, nods to Onn.

At the Paramount, Graham and Kylah take to the dance floor. Two other couples, perhaps inspired by your example, do the same. The jazz combo shifts into a dance tune - not too fast, not too slow, Graham thinks.

[SidonianGal]

Before she takes final position opposite Rawlings, Nia points at Garcia and then to the door. She slinks over by his side and nods at the tricorder, mouthing: Catch what's going on in there?

[Elendil's Heir]

Garcia whispers in her ear, "Someone's talking... sounds like a male voice. Can't understand what's being said, though."

[SidonianGal]

Nia tightens her lips. So much for that idea. She hesitates before returning to her position, and switches to whispering in Garcia's ear. "Give me a finger count if you hear a second voice in response. Need to know if he's talking to someone in the room or elsewhere." She lifts her communicator as close to her lips as possible when she continues: "We're in position, Chief. On my mark."

Backing away, she ends up on the opposite side of the door from Rawlings. She checks Rangin to make sure he's also in place and can see her encouraging nod, then focuses tightly on Garcia. Even as she watches the Communications officer, she can't help tilting her head toward the door, wondering if she can hear anything going on inside the apartment the old-fashioned way.

[general_urko]

Graham chuckles very softly.

"To avoid stepping on your feet I should probably dance with you from a meter or two away," he says quietly. "I apologize in advance. I was never good at this even though Jane loved..."

He falls silent and then holds his left arm forward, just shy of her hip, and his right arm out slightly forward and to the side.

"This is some kind of, I think Swing style or something was the word. Hopefully the right period. You take my right hand, and then the other is on our, uh, just above the hip area. Plenty of daylight in between us," he adds.

"If this is OK," he adds, an earnest undertone finding its way into the question, as suddenly he realizes that she may be torn between trying to arrange for private conversation and being uncomfortable with physical contact with him...or men....or....any number of people for any number of reasons. "Only if its OK," he says, more of a statement than a question.

[Elendil's Heir]

Garcia nods, and whispers, "Aye, ma'am. I'll hold one up now, because I only hear one; I'll raise another if I hear someone else." He holds up one finger as Onn backs away.

A few more couples join Graham and Kylah on the dance floor, although there is still plenty of room. Another half-dozen people have entered the Paramount and are being shown to their seats by waiters.

[choie]

Kylah swallows and places her left hand on Mr. Graham's waist. Somehow this is easier than slipping the fingers of her right hand between his. She cannot help wondering who 'Jane' is--she vaguely remembers a conversation with him that touched, very lightly, on his family, but it seems like years ago now and her mind is like a gossamer-thin cobweb. She used to be in charge of what she retained; now she is vulnerable to everything, to the point where the slightest touch of a memory can tear her to shreds.

When their skin makes contact there is a familiar warm tingle of emotional connection from him to her. She braces against it, although for a flash she senses protection, concern. Her gaze, hopeful and relieved, meets his own before falling to his tie.

"It is okay," she repeats, telling herself that as much as Mr. Graham. Her body is stiff and unnatural, and every time he steps forward--leading her backward, as part of the dance--her right hand reflexively twitches as if trying to escape his grasp. A pain in her jaw makes her realize how tightly she is clenching her teeth, and she forces herself to speak. "I know this must seem like a strange request. Dancing does not advance our mission. But..."

The tiniest bit of pressure from the hand lightly touching her waist guides her around, and though she follows Mr. Graham's gentle lead, she is even more uncomfortable. Jan did not push her forcefully. He guided her with ease, like a rag doll or puppet over which he had complete control. From his balcony to the bed in so few steps Kylah barely had time to register how he did it.

He did not do it by himself. I let him. I could have... I should have been stronger.

Kylah's forehead is suddenly cool and damp with sudden perspiration--and Mr. Graham must notice the clamminess of her hand as well. She feels compelled to say more. "You can tell how unnatural I am at this. It... it should not be this way. I always loved music. It has been part of my life. And Elasians dance all the time, when at leisure. But lately... oh..."

She has moved in the wrong direction--forward instead of back--and has stepped on his foot, almost knocking her chest against his. "I am sorry," she whispers with a face now burning instead of cold, and backs away as far as she physically can without detaching herself from him. "Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe everything has been a mistake. I do not know what use I am to you here, or to the ship at all, not for weeks now." Having blurted all this, she widens her eyes in regret, then shakes her head. "Forgive me, sir," she says tightly, and goes back to concentrating on pretending the music and movement are not sending ripples of anxiety through her body. "I am unprofessional. If you want to talk about the mission, please do so."

[SidonianGal]

Despite the situation, Nia can't hide a tiny smile. "Just be careful which finger goes up," she whispers to Garcia before she reaches the doorway. She decides to allow thirty seconds to pass--that should be enough time for Garcia to determine whether this discussion is a solo or duet.

Meanwhile, though still keeping the Communications officer in sight, Nia gets into position and slowly, gently, presses her cheek against the door. Might as well give old-fashioned eavesdropping a try.

That's one good thing about being in such a technologically backward society, at least: no need to worry about sensors that might automatically slide open the door or initiate a doorbell to request entry.

[Elendil's Heir]

Onn can just barely hear the murmur of what sounds like a male voice, not continuously but starting and stopping now and then, as if talking to someone whom she cannot hear at all. Garcia continues to have only one finger raised.

[general_urko]

Graham narrows his eyes slightly, concerned by Kylah's unexpected behavior. And...nerves? Clammy hands, sweat? Is she ill? Is that why she wanted to talk in private

"You've been doing great," he replies, shaking his head just slightly. "I was going to write up how well you've been handling communicating with the Iotians."

He pauses while they proceed through a series of steps. "I figured this was a ploy to speak privately, out of earshot from Morris." He frowns just a bit. "I don't have any evidence, but you're right to wonder if he's hiding something."

He clears his throat. "Look if you don't have anything to, ah report, then there's no reason for you not to enjoy the dance, if it's something you like to do and you're, ah OK dancing with me." He shrugs slightly. "While I will probably be really bad at Elasian dance steps, you should take the lead."

[choie]

Kylah shakes her head the instant Mr. Graham tells her that she's been doing 'great,' and keeps shaking it in miniscule motions during the rest of his remarks.

"I thought this would help. I cannot run away from everything that makes me remember..." Her throat constricts and cuts off her words when she senses someone nearby--much too close for comfort. When she turns, she sees another couple dancing beside them: a woman and a formally dressed man, the latter of whom is less than an arm's length from her.

The stranger's clothing reminds her of that night--Jan in his pristine tuxedo shirt emerging from the bathroom, jacket tossed over his shoulder. This had made the jacket easy to toss aside when he pulled Kylah close and began to undress her as well. Did he even have the slightest intention of wearing it in the first place--of leaving the room at all?? Was his invitation to his suite part of a plan? Or was everything--his persistent advances, his emotional pressure--something the spores created, something she created through her own receptive and even assertive romantic gestures?

She has assumed the spores were to blame, along with her own recklessness. Now she is not so sure. What men can be trusted? Not Jan, not Zweller, not Ferguson, not her uncle. Not even Velir, who hurt her with words as surely as any of the others did through more overt acts. Mr. Graham has frightened her in the past, but he seems aware and ashamed of those instances. Recently he has been nothing but supportive.

Now, instinctively, she shrinks toward Mr. Graham and swivels away from the stranger, hoping to block the man from view. Then she mutters, "I used to like dancing. I thought I could do so again. I thought being with you would make it safer. Sometimes I fear nothing will ever be safe again."

[general_urko]

Graham's brow furrows and he listens to Kylah, moreso when she edges toward rather than away from him.

It's not me, it's...

Remember what.

Safe from WHO...

I thought being with you would make it safer.

Fiona shuts the door to her room, her eyes meeting his silently...

He stands there, silent himself, failing her again, yet another day...

I WILL make them stop...

Graham's muscles tense, and his pulse quickens. Fortunately he thinks their contact is loose enough Kylah wouldn't notice.

She doesn't need some macho tirade, he thinks, disciplining his response.

His dancing slows down unintentionally.

"You have a right to feel safe, Mr. Kylah," he says low and slow. He's concerned...and memories make him ashamed. And shit I guess it's a little menacing too but I'm doing my best to keep who I think is responsible out of it...

"To feel safe, always and everywhere."

[Elendil's Heir]

The song ends, and the jazz combo switches to a more up-tempo tune. A woman nearby on the dance floor laughs with pleasure.

[choie]

"To feel safe," Kylah echoes, looking past Mr. Graham's shoulder to a spot far beyond the walls of the nightclub, beyond the boundaries of the city or even planet. "How can I be safe when I seem drawn to danger? When I step towards it, when I--when something in me causes it? It cannot be a coincidence that everywhere I go, trouble haunts me. At some point I must acknowledge that there is only one commonality in these events, and it is obviously me. Me."

Following his lead, she has slowed down too, until they are almost standing in one spot. With the faster music, the other dancers speed around them like satellites. Kylah forces her gaze to Mr. Graham's intense stare and finds... anger? Shame? Worry?

But no judgment. She feels the concern flowing through him and it almost makes her weep, thinking of her father. A weak man, someone who took orders from his wife and brother-in-law as far as how Kylah should be treated. Yet she loved him so.

Mr. Graham is not like him at all. Still, something clicks open inside of her, a key to a cupboard packed full of disgraceful truths, and they spill out in a tumble of words she cannot control. "Mr. Graham, I am always afraid. I trusted the wrong people. I was foolish and... things happened. On the Sakath lab station before you arrived. On Anubis. Even on the ship, at least I think so--I do not know." Her eyes fill with tears but her voice is hollow. "Most of all, there is OC3."

[SidonianGal]

Crap on a cracker. Lady luck can bite me. Nia frowns when her hearing and Garcia's unchanged signal indicate that this stranger is almost certainly in contact with someone on one of those telephonic devices. Either that or he's talking to a mime.

She looks intently at Rawlings, steps forward and whispers into his ear: "I think he's communicating with someone outside the room. If we beam them out now, we'd better expect guests, possibly the mainframe guards. Still think we go ahead with this?"

[Elendil's Heir]

Rawlings shrugs a little, and whispers back, "We could wait a little, I guess, but the longer we stay in this hallway, the more likely someone is to see us and make a fuss."

Garcia still has only one finger raised.

[SidonianGal]

Nia nods, casting her gaze at the others to make sure everyone is on alert. She concentrates until she feels her skin prickle and harden to a thin, glistening shell of flexible but protective scales. Then, after she tightens her grip on her phaser, she lifts her communicator with her free hand.

"Chief," she whispers, her ears straining to listen beyond the door. "Starting countdown. Three. Two. One. Energize."

[general_urko]

He's telling Nia about Fiona, remembering...

She was very pretty, very quiet, and very...alone....

Somehow it was as if the worst goddamned scum on the planet could sense how alone she was...

Graham blinks, feeling as he's just been struck across the forehead with a two-by-four.

OC3.

His mouth goes dry and he essentially stops moving as his suspicions come together...

The hotel. I shouldn't have let Collins call me off.

As soon as the thought coalesces, the answer is clear.

"That was my fault. I was the most experienced member of the team. I should have taken better care of you."

In the back of his mind, he realizes the last sentence isn't quite what he would have said to any number of colleagues who weren't...like Kylah. "Should have had your back," maybe, to somebody who looked like Rawlings.

But maybe that phrasing was about masking what might not sound macho enough, couching it in military language....

In any event the connection between what he felt and what he said was too tight to permit even an instant's reflection.

[choie]

The music turns to static in Kylah's ears as her body feels consumed first by fire, then ice. She is rigid with horror.

What has she just said... and why? Why would she nearly confess something so shameful? What does he know? Why did he blame himself? How could any of this have been Mr. Graham's fault?

"Oh..." she says, almost silently, realization slowing her racing heartbeat. He must mean the final confrontation with the murderer Fellim Palver. Mr. Graham was there, and... yes, that was terrifying, being under a powerful man's control (again), paralyzed and unable to defend herself (again). But she has nearly forgotten it in the wake of everything else that occurred before and after.

"You mean what happened in Mr. Palver's ship," she says, looking down at her feet. "That was not your fault. He was stronger than both of us. He had mental abilities none of us suspected. If Velir had not freed himself, all three of us would have died, or had our minds erased."

Relief and disappointment battle within her. If he is indeed this mistaken, she can back away. She can pretend that incident is what she meant by her foolish loose tongue.

Except she does not want to. She needs, most desperately, to tell someone. It is too painful to pretend any longer.

...But what else is there to do, here, in this strange place, on a mission where they must be on their guard, not focusing on issues that can only distract and endanger them?

I am already distracted. I could put others in danger if I hold this in much longer.

On the slim chance that he might understand, she forces herself to lift her gaze. "There is something I wish had been erased, Mr. Graham. Something that was my fault, not yours; you were nowhere near me. No one was near me. And that, too, was my fault." She shakes her head and feels the dampness of tears on her cheek. "Will you promise not to tell anyone? I would want to die if anyone knew. Would you swear...?"

[Elendil's Heir]

"Acknowledged," Nguyen says from the communicator grille in a barely-audible voice. "Energizing... now."

Through the door, Onn can hear the distinctive whine of the transporter effect. Someone inside the apartment shouts out a single word - she can't tell what was said, or the emotional state of the person who spoke. Garcia's eyes widen a little, and he drops his hand.

The upbeat tune was a brief one. Kylah realizes that the combo has now stopped and is putting down its instruments, apparently to take a break.

[choie]

Kylah breaks her stare at Mr. Graham and notices the departing couples, the musicians preparing to leave. With a twisted knot forming in her stomach, she releases her partner's hand and drops her arms to her side.

"I am sorry, sir," she says as she backs up a step. "That was wrong of me. This is not the time or place, and I should not burden you while we are working." Every word is like the other, nothing emphasized; one dull monotone of self-reproach. "Personal matters must wait until the mission is over."

She wipes the tears from her cheeks and turns to head back to the table.

[SidonianGal]

A swell of elation lifts Nia's lips into a brief smile at Double-T, but she checks her pride knowing too well that it could prove to be hubris. The hostages ain't home yet--not as far as she knows.

She clutches her communicator. "Chief, please confirm," she says in a firm, tight voice. "Do you have them? Both groups?" While she speaks she focuses on Garcia; A jab of her elbow points in the direction of the apartment door, and her eyebrows rise with the unspoken question he can hopefully interpret: You hear anything?

[Elendil's Heir]

After a long pause, Nguyen responds, "Yes! We got them."

Singh comes on the channel. "Well done, Mr. Onn. We've recovered all four people from the CAG, and three Iotians. They've been disarmed and are headed to the Brig for now."

Garcia looks down at his tricorder, looks up at Onn and shakes his head.

[SidonianGal]

Now Nia lets herself grin. "Excellent, Chief. Captain, I appreciate the congratulations, but the finale was all on Chief Nguyen's end--" She nods, eyes gleaming, at the Coridanite. "And the real work was thanks to Ensign Rangin and his team, for finding them in the first place and coming up with the transporter scheme."

She takes a deep relieved breath, though she knows her goal isn't quite over yet. "How are the hostages? Any trauma, injuries, and so on? And I suppose Commander Vargas will arrange for their debriefing--and an interrogation of the guards?" Those goons must be freaking out right now. One second they're in total control of a room, the next they're suddenly appearing in custody on a starship? The thought widens her grin.

"With your permission, ma'am, I'd like to go after the mainframe now, and see if we can follow the guys watching it--assuming they haven't fled already. They might take us to whoever organized this. Though the CAG folks may know that already. Obviously if we can get any intel from them, or the guards if they're cooperative, it'd be extremely helpful." She hesitates and adds, "Before I forget, just before we nabbed them, one of the men--probably a guard--seems to have been chatting with someone on the outside. Maybe Var--Cmdr. Vargas can try to get an ID on who was on the other end of that discussion?"

Not wanting to leave the slightest opportunity for a big mistake, she lowers her communicator slightly and murmurs to Rangin, "Let's confirm that there are no life forms in the apartment--human or otherwise."

[general_urko]

Graham stands still and silent as Kylah retreats to the table.

After a moment, he follows, mulling over what he suspects to be a terrible truth in his mind...and pretty damn sure pressing her on the matter right now is not a viable option.

[Elendil's Heir]

The Captain says, "Dr. Villa is examining the Potemkin officers now. Looks to me like they're tired and stressed and a little thin, but otherwise OK. Cmdr. Vargas is seeing to the Iotians. Proceed as you see fit, Mr. Onn."

Lt. Thalen will try to determine with whom the person in the apartment was communicating.

Rangin raises his tricorder and scans the apartment. "No one's in there now, ma'am," he says. "No lifesigns." Rawlings relaxes a little.

[choie]

Kylah manages to get back to the table without bumping into any of the others leaving the dance floor. She sits and nods at the others, trying not to look back at Mr. Graham. What must he think of her? What do any of her crewmates think of her?

She retrieves her purse from the table and slides it onto her lap so she can clutch it tightly. The beads press into her skin, a tiny hint of physical pain that helps keep her mind off everything else she is feeling right now. She vows to continue as long as she can, not letting go, both as distraction and as punishment.

[SidonianGal]

Nia acknowledges the Captain's words and tucks her communicator back into the purse, then starts walking. "Okay, gentlemen. You heard that my inclination's to hop downstairs ASAP. Anyone have a different suggestion, let me hear it. I'm tempted to leave one or two of you here to search that apartment, but I'm not keen on splitting us into even smaller groups. Still, if one of you thinks it'd be helpful, I'm open."

She pauses and looks back, a flash of mischief brightening her smile. "Oh, and Mr. Rangin... please tell Mr. Graham that the hostages have been safely secured on the ship. It was your idea; you should get the honor. Make it a silent text, though--just in case they need to be discreet." Her pleasant expression dims and her tone turns serious. "And don't mention the Collins situation or anything about the change in personnel. I want their minds focused, and that stuff's not on their 'need to know' list as far as I'm concerned."

Thinking of Collins has sobered Nia up. She moves faster and hopes to find the Krako team waiting for them when they turn the corner.

[Elendil's Heir]

Morris and T'Var now have their drinks and are chatting. T'Var notices Kylah's discomfort and asks, "May I have the pleasure of your company while I visit the... powder room, Ensign?"

Rangin, Rawlings and Garcia all wish to come along with Onn. The Starfleet party moves swiftly down the hall and down the stairs, towards the basement. They see no one on the way. Onn hears a car start up outside.

Rangin texts Graham, whose communicator silently vibrates.

[choie]

Immediately on alert--T'Var would not invite her along idly--Kylah hesitates before realizing she has no real way out of it. "Yes, doctor, of course," she says with as pleasant an expression as she can muster. She stands and excuses herself to the others, though she barely looks in Mr. Graham's direction. Her grasp on the purse tightens further.

[SidonianGal]

The engine sound--and the notable lack of Zabo and the rest who said they'd stay in place in case needed--sends ripple of annoyance through Nia. "Damn it. If I can't trust gangsters to keep their word..." she mutters dryly, lengthening her stride to reach their destination faster. When she reaches the last stairs she almost dives down three at a time. "Rangin, is your sensor still picking up anyone in the room with the mainframe?"

[general_urko]

Graham notices Kylah leaving the table with T'Var with a sense of...well, mostly relief. If anyone find out what's going on, or at the least calm her down, it's the Doc...

Then his communicator buzzes, and once he gets to the table and can take a look at it discreetly hidden as much he can, he looks at the message.

What the fuck does Rangin want? he thinks, annoyed.

[Elendil's Heir]

T'Var and Kylah leave the main ballroom and reenter the Paramount's shadowy lobby en route to the ladies' room. T'Var says, "You seem distressed, Ensign, and I thought you might wish to get away from Mr. Graham and Mr. Morris. Are you all right?"

Rangin tries to work his tricorder on the run. "Uh... yes, ma'am. Still one lifesign."

Graham reads on his communicator's tiny text screen, CAG hostages safely secured on the ship. RANGIN.

Morris asks, "Good news or bad?"

[general_urko]

Graham's about to reply to Morris when he notices the unread text from Nia.

Hope you know I was only thinking of what's best for you and the others. You look great to me, but I've seen you wince a bit when you think no one's noticing.

I notice these things, because I notice you. I like noticing you. And I expect you to return to the ship in one piece, all parts present and accounted for, so I can keep noticing new things about you.

In short, be safe. Because I care about you, Book, and I want you back. I want you.

P.S. play nice with the other kids. -- NIA

He reads the next-to-the-last last line over several times.

It takes him beyond apologizing for missing Valentine's Day. But he's not sure how he should respond.

He lets it lie with At least Nia's safe onboard so that's one thing I don't have to worry about, and can figure out in later.

He mumbles a "sorry," to Morris for the delay.

"Good," he says. "Apparently hostages have been secured," he answers, aware of the question of whether Morris is a person of interest but stopping short of hiding information from a fellow Starfleet officer.