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

  1. #351
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    Graham gives a slight nod and grunt of approval to Morris, realizing he himself should have thought to warn the officer not to blurt out the actual address. One, it's obviously known and someone could have local transportation services listening for it. Two, the location itself could be under surveillance.

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    Singh says, "Thank you, Mr. Rangin. I don't want to contact the Syndicate until you learn more down there. We don't know if this was some kind of inside job, after all. Do your best to find the kidnapped officers, and when you think that contacting the Syndicate would be useful, do so yourself, or let me know, and I will."

    The cab pulls away from the curb and into traffic, the cabbie dodging and weaving around other cars and the occasional brave pedestrian trying to cross the street. He evidently likes to use his horn.

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    Kylah tries to hold onto anything that will keep her relatively steady, not including Lt. Morris beside her. She waits until the cab slows down--for anything--until she speaks up, first addressing her colleagues. "I forgot to ask you all... did you see those strangely dressed people walking down the street, back there? I did not recognize them or their clothing." She then looks inquisitively up at the driver. "Perhaps you know, sir. There was this couple, in what looked like uniforms of some sort. Bright colors, black boots... and no hats or gloves! Have you seen such people before? Perhaps a circus or something...?"

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    The cabbie chews around his cigar and grunts. "Yeah, I seen 'em. Some kind of weird costume like those Feddies wear, I guess. Just a new fad."

  5. #355
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    "Uh, yeah, those 'Feddies,'" Graham says. "What's the word on them? I mean--why would anybody around here want to dress like 'em?"

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    "Yes ma'am" finishes Rangin as he closes the call.

    "Ok," he says to his two companions, "let's see if we can find those people. I'm guessing if we look for the stream of people muttering about the strangers in funny clothes, we may locate them."
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

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    Collins, Garcia and Rangin emerge from the alley, back out onto the sidewalk. Passersby aren't talking about strangers in funny clothes, from what little you can overhear.

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    Nodding at Mr. Graham, Kylah takes a swift, questioning glance at Lt. Morris. He didn't seem to know about these... what would be the word? Fans? Groupies? ... despite having lived here for quite a while. Curious.

    She adds on to Graham's question. "I cannot imagine wanting to dress like that, but if this is a new fad, I would like to know more about it." Kylah eyes the driver. "Do you know if they have a--a club, or some place where they gather? Are there actual 'Feddies' on the planet whom they are imitating?"

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    Collins motions in the direction the two in mock Starfleet uniforms were last seen. "Maybe they went into a store or restaurant. We should 'window shop' for them along the way."

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    The cabbie says, "No, I don't know anything about 'em. If it ain't in The Book, I don't want anything to do with it. And yeah, the Feds have some people here, helping out the Syndicate, getting their piece of the action." He glances over his shoulder and narrowly misses another car. "What rock've you been living under, lady?"

    Garcia replies to Collins, "Makes sense to me." The three wander down the street, looking in windows as you go, but don't see them. As you come to the next street corner, Collins spots the pair in Starfleet uniform at the end of the next block, still walking away.

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    Kylah tries to remember what she learned in the briefing about this planet and society. She smiles fatuously and twirls a lock of her hair around her finger. "There are far more interesting and fun things to do than pay attention to politics. I suppose I knew there were 'Feds' around, but I was wondering if there were any who were especially, well, famous." She recalls Lord Fastolfe. "Any with that... star power, who might have drawn these imitators to him. Or her," she adds with a dismissive shrug, keeping her smile playful. "You seem the sort of person who knows where the 'action' is. I would be grateful if you knew where I could get some information about that. I sometimes get bored with my usual activities. A change would be nice."

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    Collins half turns to Rangin and Garcia "There" she surreptitiously indicates the two targets and starts after them, at a reasonable pace, but faster than they are walking, so she can catch up without seeming to chase them. She's confident her shipmates will follow.

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    Graham was about to try to cover for Kylah by saying something to the effect that she "doesn't get out much" when she pursues a decidedly different tack.

    She's doing her job, he reminds himself.

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    The cabbie looks back again and leers. "What do you have in mind, missy? This is a happenin' town. Lots to do."

    Garcia nods and matches his pace with Collins's.

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    The cabbie's expression reminds Kylah far too much of Ferguson and Zweller; for a second or two, her finger stops toying with her hair and she shrinks back. Then she recovers. This is her duty and she is perfectly safe to play a role. "Well," she begins, somewhat hoarsely, and repeats it: "Well, I just meant... these Feddie imitators. Is there a place they gather, for entertainment? A nightclub or some other place? It would amuse me to see what the fuss is about." She pastes on a playful smile. "Or what about the Syndicate members? Where do the 'bigwig' crowd enjoy an evening out?"

    Kylah moistens her lips, hoping she is on the right track, and turns to Mr. Graham and Dr. T'Var. "While we are in town, would it not be interesting to meet some important people, or at least know where we can find some..." She glances back at the cabbie, remembering his words. "...Some 'happenin' things?"

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    Rangin smiles at Collins' eagerness to catch up with the strangers ahead and increases his own speed to match the others lagging behind only slightly and waiting to see how Collins will handle the situation.
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

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    The cabbie chews around on his cigar, grins and says, "Well, Valentino's is always worth a visit. It's a speakeasy on Fourth Street. Always somethin' goin' on there, y'know?" He pulls over to the curb. "OK, we're here. That'll be two bucks fifty."

    Wending their way through the crowd of passersby on the sidewalk, Collins, Garcia and Rangin soon catch up with the two in Starfleet uniform. They are just ahead of you and don't seem to have noticed your approach.

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    Collins says to Garcia, loud enough for the strangers to hear "Daddy, dig those cats! Those duds are the cat's meow!" Her hope is that they turn around, flattered, and talk to her and her teammates.

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    Graham claps Morris on the shoulder, hoping he has whatever amount of whatever currency the driver is asking for on him "You heard the man, buddy" he says, nodding and starting to open the car door.

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    "Thank you very much for the recommendation," Kylah says politely to the cab driver, and looks over to Lt. Morris, waiting for him to pay. She wonders if the fare is, well, fair. It does not matter, really, except that people of this era would know the average rates for taxicab rides of this length, and so she wants to ensure they do not seem out of place.

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    One and then both of the two men in Starfleet uniform stop and turn. Collins notices that one is in Science or Medical blue, and the other is in Command yellow. Both have the Starfleet arrowhead on their breasts; neither has any cuff braid. Their costumes are reasonably close facsimiles of Starfleet uniform, although clearly not standard issue. The first one smiles. "Thanks. Not everyone we've seen today has had the same reaction."

    Morris does indeed have some Iotian currency. He pays the cabbie, who seems satisfied, and you all pile out.

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    Collins smiles at the strangers "Where'd you get them?" she asks. She knows putting the two men at ease will go a long way towards getting pertinent information out of them.

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    Kylah looks down the street toward... whatever their destination is, she does not know the location yet... and then turns back to Dr. T'Var and Mr. Graham. "Do you think it is safe for Lt. Morris to go to the building? What if they have people watching out for him? Not only will his life be in peril, but our covers will be discovered as well."

    Her teeth catch the edge of her lower lip, gnawing in consternation. She wants to see the apartment, but knows she might be chosen to hang behind with Morris. Although perhaps it should be someone who can defend him, should he be spotted by a potential kidnapper...? She says nothing, waiting for the more experienced officers to make the decision.

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    Rangin steps back slightly just out of the way and being as unobtrusive as possible while Collins is talking and including Garcia in on the conversation. Instead he will just give them the once over to see if there is anything slightly different considering what everyone else is wearing.
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

  25. #375
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    Graham grits is teeth, unhappy with what he feels appropriate to recommend. If anyone has to walk in the front door, it makes more sense for one of the women--who are as obviously can be not Morris-- to do it...

    He grunts slightly and tenses, then exhales and glances at Kylah and then T'Var. "What are our options for getting in, Morris?" he asks, turning to the officer-on-the-run.

    "I'm hoping there's a 'back door' bad guys wouldn't know about. Or that there are interior coordinates logged at sufficient detail to enable us to beam in."

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    One of the costumed men proudly tells Collins, "The Krako Federation. It's the wave of the future! You can get one, too, if you want."

    Rangin notices that the texture of the men's uniform fabric isn't quite right, and that the shirt colors are just a little off (the blue is a little too greenish, and the yellow is a brighter shade than the actual Command color). Their "phasers" are crude replicas, and the "tricorder" of the man in blue is thinner than a standard-issue Starfleet tricorder.

    Most other people, passing by on the sidewalk, either stare curiously or - a few - even glare at the two.

    Morris leads you to a nearby shaded alcove that provides some cover. He says, "That's the house, over there." It appears to be an unremarkable two-story red brick building with white trim. "There is a back door, but it's not concealed or anything." He thinks a moment. "I don't have the interior coordinates, but your ship should be able to determine them."

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    Kylah almost smiles; if they could have beamed over, apparently they just wasted Lt. Morris's money. But the thought of seeing Ferguson again throws cold water over her amusement.

    She shudders and examines the building's surroundings. "There--there might be value in going in directly," she says quietly. "If two or three of us go in, the rest of us might be able to notice any strangers paying undue attention. It could flush them out."

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    Around you is a typical Twenties residential cityscape - sidewalks, some trees and bushes, a newsstand, and a mix of low-rise apartment buildings and houses. Cars pass and pedestrians walk by. Kylah's keen eyes see no one watching the house, or watching you.

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    Graham purses his lips. "Yes, Mr. Kylah has a point," he says, rubbing his chin as he replies.

    "Morris ought to beam in regardless, as we can assume that if anyone is watching they have at least some idea what he looks like." He frowns. "A couple of us passing for locals, walking up to the front door..." He frowns. "That's arguably a better way to detect a trap. Since our bad guys are in the kidnapping rather than the murder business as far as we know, they're unlikely to just open up with Tommy guns on two random people who might just be locals knocking at the wrong address."

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    "I'm willing to go either way," Morris says.

    The costumed men say, "Well, nice talking to you," and turn to leave.

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    "Before you go," Collins says quickly, "where is the Krako Federation? We're, uh, new in this town."

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    Kylah stares from Graham to Morris and finally to T'Var. She does not want to beam back with Morris, and realizes she can pass for a civilian better than the tall, powerful Vulcan.

    With a swallow, she takes a tiny step forward. "It is your call, ma'am," she says to T'Var. "But I volunteer to go in through the main entrance, if that is what you think best." After a pause, she adds in a rushed murmur, "I should make a good decoy. Even when I am in uniform, many do not think I am truly part of Starfleet...at least, not as an officer."

    She regrets voicing the sentiment, and pretends to brush some of her nearly black curls from her face as a pretext for hiding her flushed cheeks. But the words are true whether spoken or not, and her colleagues--especially these two--certainly know it.

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    One of the costumed men says, "I'm glad you asked! There's a rally at Krako Hall in a few minutes; we're going there now. Want to come along? Captain Krako himself will be speaking."

    T'Var rubs her chin for a moment. "These are tactical and field decisions better made by a Security officer, I believe. Mr. Graham, I relinquish command of this subgroup to you. How do you wish us to proceed?"

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    Collins smiles broadly and turns to Garcia and Rangin "Oh, let's go, fellas. Whaddaya say?"

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    duplicate post removed
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 18 Jul 2016 at 05:04 PM.

  36. #386
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    Graham's surprised by the Vulcan doctor's comment - well, in point of fact mostly because he has no problem with her being in charge. But of course, maybe that's because she has good sense and doesn't bullshit around, thus her matter-of-fact and perfectly reasonable decision...

    "Uh, thanks--I mean, don't sell yourself short, Doc," Graham replies, smiling briefly.

    He rubs his chin again. "Well here's how I see it: we're in a pretty strong position if we do draw anybody out, not just because a couple of us can cover the others, but we can have Yorktown standing by. But if this is really a culture based on the old Terran 'mobs,' if we capture anybody the odds are that spilling the beans..." He glances at Kylah and T'Var, not sure if they're familiar with the phrase. "Ah, I mean that giving up intelligence on their compatriots is probably something heavily frowned upon. The best case would be convincing anybody it's a false alarm and subsequently tailing them rather than capturing a bunch of jamokes who try to grab Morris."

    "All things considered, with Morris out I think Kylah and I have the best shot at passing as locals. We head to the front door, while Doc, you and Morris cover our approach. Then..."

    He scowl, and glances at the building. "First things first. Doc, do you detect any life signs in there?"

    He asks Morris "What do we need to do to open the front door?"

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    Garcia seems a little surprised, but then smiles and says, "Sure, I'm game."

    Dr. T'Var checks to make sure the coast is clear and no one will see her using her tricorder. Then, using her handbag as a shield, she scans the house. "No life signs inside, Ensign."

    Morris says, "There's a keypad and a biosign scanner, but you can get in just with the keypad. The entry code is PA011268."
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 18 Jul 2016 at 05:11 PM.

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    The change in command structure happens so quickly Kylah is taken aback. Her immediate response is to blurt, "Should you not ask Ensign Rangin for permission--?" But she cuts herself off. Other than Morris, Dr. T'Var is of higher rank than any of them. She probably does not need to seek approval, even from the mission leader who made the assignments.

    With an infinitesimal shake of her head, tacitly asking the others to ignore her, she edges near Mr. Graham and carefully takes note of Lt. Morris's details. "Thank you, sir," she murmurs to him, keeping her gaze on the communicator hidden in her purse as she keys in the code.

    The bag is so compact, it is fortunate her hands are small and slender, otherwise she would not even be able to slip her fingers inside and type one-handed, as she is doing now. Indeed, Kylah is a little worried that if weapons are required, pulling out her phaser will require more time than it would from her duty belt.

    Pausing in thought, she decides to take the communicator, hidden in her palm, and slide it beneath the sash of her dress, which is low but tight around her hips. It will probably cause a small budge, but the buckle might hide it. At least now the phaser has more room in the bag, and will thus be easier to remove in an emergency.

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    Quietly, Collins tells Rangin and Garcia "If we can get close to Krako, and let him know we're from Kirk's Federation, he may be able to help us retrieve the kidnappees."

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    Kylah is confident that, if she needs to get to either her communicator or her phaser-1 in a hurry, she will be able to.

    Garcia nods in response to Collins's remark, and looks at Rangin.

    The two Iotians in Starfleet costume seem to be getting a little impatient.

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    "Thanks Doc. Ah, lieutenant," Graham says to T'Var.

    "All right, here's how I see it. Ens. Kylah and I will approach the front door. You two cover our approach: only intervene...by which I mean stun with impunity...if things are looking really bad. If we get hassled, I want it to play out and see if however crawls out of the woodwork backs off so we can follow them. As soon as we're in and the whole building doesn't explode and kill us, beam in a good couple meters away from us if you can to avoid a booby trap at the entry--Morris, you can help Yorktown figure out the best spot."

    Graham shifts somewhat uncomfortably and clears his throat. "Ah, so..." He pauses a moment. "Ens. Kylah, I, uh--I think we'd look less like 'Feddies' investigating if we did something like, uh, hold hands like a, uh, couple. If you don't mind that," he adds quickly.

    Under other circumstances--he'd just lay it out in five words for T'Var or Collins--he wouldn't be so hesitant. But given what he suspects about Kylah's experiences on the Yorktown and perhaps elsewhere...

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    Graham's suggestion makes Kylah stop blinking for a few seconds, staring at him in a mixture of confusion and discomfort. The touch of a hand is very intimate, both to her as an Elasian and as someone for whom skin-on-skin contact has almost always sent a current of unpredictable emotions flowing into her.

    On Elas, one eats with one's hands, and so they are kept scrupulously clean. Her parents' generation wore gloves, removing them in public for eating, as a display of trust, or for sensual pleasure. Even simple gestures taken for granted by other cultures usually have very...explicit...meanings to Elasians, at least in the Northern Lands where Kylah's family lives. The vulgar 'thumbs-up' gesture, which Kylah has seen Mr. Graham use innocently several times, is just one example.

    But he did not intend any offense then, and he almost certainly does not intend anything by the request now. It is mere strategy, nothing more. The security officer seems awkward--Kylah can easily see that without her still-dim empathic abilities--and the plan he proposes is logical.

    Kylah starts to speak when she is halted by the thought of what Mr. Rangin would think, both of the changed role assignments and Mr. Graham's pairing himself with her. What would he say? What might he call Mr. Graham? Or her?

    It does not matter. He will not know, and even if he did... Frustrated by her own hesitation, she extends her arm stiffly toward the older man. "Yes, sir," she says, her voice hoarse enough to require her to clear it before continuing. "Whatever you think is best."
    Last edited by choie; 20 Jul 2016 at 09:49 AM.

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    "OK, let's see what we've got. I'd be curious to see who Captain Krako ?"
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

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    Graham nods, trying to look confident and in command--but aware even a numbskull like him can tell Kylah doesn't like the idea.

    "Right, so..." He extends his own arm at an angle, cocked so she could hook her own across it at the elbow--more like two people promenading along the Seine in Old Paris than kids holding hands. He clears his throat. "How about this?" he asks, taking her wrist as gently as he can and meshing their arms. "Just out for a stroll...."

    "If there are now questions, we'll go now--at a leisurely pace," he says to the group.

    In a low voice he says to Kylah, "You're the better talker so don't be shy. But if something happens get behind me. I'm not, ah...I'm not denigrating your abilities. It's just if this is a culture based on old Terran mobs, it's gonna expect a man to defend his girl and all that sort of thing."
    Last edited by general_urko; 20 Jul 2016 at 11:04 PM.

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    Kylah and Graham join arms and cross the street, dodging traffic when they must. Soon they are on the threshold of the Starfleet civil advisory group's house. No one is within several dozen yards. The front door is securely shut. The keypad which Morris mentioned is under a discreet and weatherproof lid, and the biosign scanner is just above it.

    One of the uniformed Iotians says, "Great! Follow us." They lead you down the street and around the corner, then around another. Soon you see several dozen people in similar not-quite-correct Starfleet costumes, yellow, blue and red, converging on a large stone building. Large red banners with the Starfleet arrowhead insignia etched in gold hang on pillars to either side of the main door. There is a buzz of excitement among the crowd.

    Garcia murmurs to Rangin, "I assume 'Krako' is Jojo Krako, the #2 guy in the Syndicate, unless it's a common name around here."

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    When Graham offers his arm, Kylah recognizes the gesture and, looking upwards in gratitude, flashes him a rare, open smile. She slips her bare arm through his, touching only his jacket fabric even though she can of course feel the warmth and strength of him next to her. Once they have crossed the street and are at the door, Kylah reaches for the keypad, but stops short once she notices the device above.

    "This may not work," she murmurs. Her gaze again seeks Graham's, this time in frustration. "Why were we not told about the bio scanner? Do you think it is necessary in addition to the code, or is it just a security measure for guests?" She lets out an annoyed sigh in thought. "It appears there is no one around, but to be safe, perhaps you can stand guard so that I may get my communicator to contact Dr. T'Var without being noticed?"

  47. #397
    Ape must not kill ape! general_urko's avatar
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    "Fucking Morris," Graham grumbles, resisting the urge to look back toward where they came when they face the bioscanner.

    Still, he's relieved Kylah seemed to be less upset...even, for whatever reason, smiling when they linked arms.

    "Ah, sorry," he adds quietly.

    Graham has an idea about the best course of action to maintain their "cover," such as it is, but immediately regrets the whole endeavor.

    "Uh, so, there's a...tradition...a, uh, thing, ah, about, ah...doing it...in doorways. Meaning just that," he adds quickly, "if you back into the corner there, and I, uh, kind of stand...well, you know what I mean, nobody will see."

    Graham is careful to get close--close enough that someone passing on the street might assume they're touching--without actually making contact with Kylah.

    But he's keenly aware he must be looming over her in the tightest possible quarters...

  48. #398
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    Kylah initially does not understand Mr. Graham's stammered words about doing something to doorways. About to ask, she instead hears him suggest she back up, followed by his moving closer, so close she has to lean away to avoid him. Her back presses against the sill, cold against her bare arms.

    Kylah stumbles away in a vain attempt to get past his reach, but he is too big, his grip is too strong. A cold metal something presses against her spine and after one jolt of pain she no longer feels a thing--nor can she move. Her entire body seems to have disappeared. And she sees the room spinning as she collapses.

    He catches her easily and sweeps her up while Kylah tries to shout. But not only is she unable to make a sound, she can hardly take a breath. Her very lungs are failing her. Terror clutches her heart.

    "I know you're scared," he murmurs into her hair, as if he is the empath. He chuckles and starts toward her side of the room. "Don't worry. You'll survive. I have no intention of losing you now."

    Before she knows it, he deposits her on the bed. Kylah's head flops to the right, where she can see her night table and, beyond that, the porthole revealing the infinite expanse of space.

    In the corner of her vision, he leans over to rest his hands on the bed on either side of her useless body, caging her in. Then he moves still closer, and now his face and shoulders are all she can see. The beauty of the sky and stars has been blotted out entirely.


    Kylah nearly drops her purse and feels her face grow clammy and ice-cold as the instinct to run surges through her--along with the desire to shove her hands into Mr. Graham's chest to force him away. Instead, she swallows and stares sharply at his expression. It is not sinister. It is not smug. It is not lustful or vengeful or calculating.

    "I understand, sir," she mutters. "So I--I will send a message. Do you... do you want me to ask--"

    Her gaze shifts left and right anxiously to see if she is completely trapped. Not trapped. Hidden. Mr. Graham does seem to be preventing others from seeing her thanks to his chest and muscular arms. Her legs are probably visible, but that is all. To anyone watching, it probably does look as if she and Mr. Graham are...

    Kylah quickly drags her attention down to her sash, where she fumbles for the communicator. The awkwardness of the situation has struck her afresh. She shakes her head after losing her train of thought, then gets back on track.

    "Do you think it is safe enough for me to ask them to come here? Or should Dr. T'Var accompany Lt. Morris to the ship and then to the apartment, where he can let us in himself?"

  49. #399
    Ape must not kill ape! general_urko's avatar
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    Graham is balancing as if he's holding a baby made of glass while walking a tightrope, feeling no fear that the game plan was unreasonable, but deeply concerned it's put Kylah into an uncomfortable position.

    I picked up off the ground by her shoulders, for god's sake, remembering the moment she broke in on a bad memory on OCIII...

    Graham purses his lips. "Hang on...try the code. Uh, PA--PA011268. I--that actually should override. I'll ah, hang tight and shield you from view."

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    With a curt nod, Kylah slips the communicator back into her sash. "Yes, sir," she repeats, and turns around. Her arms are held tight against her body so as to avoid touching him.

    But when she lifts her hand to tap the keypad, she blinks. "Oh! I am foolish. I just remembered... The lieutenant did tell us about the scanner. The code should indeed be enough. I am sorry, sir, I do not know how I forgot..." She purses her lips with a short, irritated shake of her head, and just enters the code in silence.

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