A male voice comes scratchily from the tiny speaker on Kylah's communicator. "Ens. Kylah? Are you alone? Can you speak freely?" She does not recognize the voice.
Cooper orders baked chicken with rice and beans, a tossed salad and an ice water.
A male voice comes scratchily from the tiny speaker on Kylah's communicator. "Ens. Kylah? Are you alone? Can you speak freely?" She does not recognize the voice.
Cooper orders baked chicken with rice and beans, a tossed salad and an ice water.
Curiosity and a frission of unease tighten Kylah's fingers around the communicator. After a second or two, she says, "Just a moment" to her anonymous contact, then glances at T'Var. "I--I must take this, but I do not wish to be rude by talking to someone in your own quarters. I hope we may speak again tomorrow, doctor. Thank you again for everything, and I hope you will let me know if you hear anything conclusive about... about what might have happened."
She gives T'Var a brief smile of gratitude before leaving the cabin. Walking down the corridor, she waits until she is certain she is alone before speaking again. "I am able to speak now. Who is this?"
Last edited by choie; 01 Mar 2015 at 03:30 PM.
The subspace reception is poor, even after Kylah adjusts her communicator. The man says, "This is Clive Walcott of The Solar Post. I'm here at OC3, at the resort, digging into the story of Mr. Wilson's death and his ties to Vice Adm. Hardin. I understand you were involved in the preliminary investigation. I'd like to interview you, if you have a few minutes."
Two young men in Science blue walk by, talking animatedly.
Kylah remembers Cmdr. Vargas's earlier warning about speaking with the press.
Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 01 Mar 2015 at 04:48 PM.
Eyes widening, Kylah lets Walcott's words sink in. They seem like a reputable organization and, if she remembers correctly, were focusing on the need for an external investigation. It is exactly what she hopes will happen--what must happen, if the Federation is to regain any sense of respect in her eyes. Still, Vargas's words were clear. And her report is in his hands. Her opinions are known, and they will surely be recognized as coming from her even if she speaks off the record now.
"I... I am afraid I am not allowed to speak to you," she murmurs reluctantly, watching the backs of the Science officers as they retreat from her. "Not without talking to my superior officer first. I can ask, but..."
Even as she speaks, her mind is busy calculating. Lt. Thalen might be amenable. He is the most reasonable senior officer she has met on this ship, and appears to like her. Or at least, he does not hate me. Yet. She continues to delay with a natural question. "...But I do not understand. Why would you contact me, of all people? I was the most junior officer involved during the mission."
Walcott says, "Your name came up as someone who was very critical of Starfleet's handling of the investigation. I also understand you had some personal dealings with the suspects, and were attacked by both Palver and Hardin...?"
Kylah knows that The Solar Post is the largest and most respected newsnet in Earth's Solar System, although its reach extends well beyond there. It is read by Federation and Earth policymakers, leaders and opinion-shapers of all kinds.
Kylah instinctively looks around her, as if Walcott or someone else is in the vicinity. How can he possibly know about her critique of the investigation? That was made plain only in her AMR, unless... Did I say anything on the planet? She thinks quickly to assess what she might have implied to the witnesses.
The only person to whom she indicated her displeasure was Fastolfe, and he does not seem the sort to have given any serious comments to a newslet like The Solar Post. And she has not seen any coverage of this outside the Post--she has been dealing with her debriefing most of the day.
Then the allegation Walcott mentioned somewhat casually sinks in. "Personal dealings?" Kylah blurts. "I do not know what you mean by that. And I--" She stops herself just in time. She will not be foolish enough to give him any information, even a confirmation or denial of any of his words. But now she is worried about just what rumors are going around. Unless he is simply trying to goad her.
"Mr. Walcott," she begins in a more measured tone. "I cannot imagine how you even got through to my comlink. But as I said, I cannot speak to you without permission. The trouble is, if I do seek permission, everything I say will be scrutinized most carefully by my superiors, while every unattributed quote will be assumed to have come from me." She shakes her head. "You are putting me in a very difficult position, sir. I must think about this. May I get back to you?"
Graham claps his hands a couple times. "All right everyone--thanks for coming, first things first--I want to see a drink in everyone's hands. Obviously a virgin cocktail--let's call it a 'Vargas' cocktail--for those of you on duty..." He secures himself a whiskey, neat. "As you can see, I'm not...either on duty, or Vargas."
He takes a spot in the center of the room. "I wanted to thank all of you, he says, loudly, "who were temporarily assigned to my command on OC3. I know your assignments were all over the map down there, but for those of you who were too busy ogling rich geriatric spa-goers, just for the record, we took down a corrupt Starfleet admiral and a billionaire playboy murderer who was also a Galaxy-lass asshole....Cheers!" he shouts, holding up his glass a taking a swig.
He then holds up a hand. "And...for the record, we also burned down a historically significant building in the course of a hot pursuit...really hot, I guess you would say--so, St. Croix, Gelil, which one of you fired the shot...? And was this your first building? Old as I am I think I can't claim more than two myself...here's to an extensive trail of destruction over many more ass-kicking years!" He raises his glass and takes another swig.
Graham deliberately sets his glass down and then raises both hands. "OK, there's one more thing..." He stops smiling and steeples his hands in front of his lips for a moment before continuing. "I temporarily placed Ensign Kylah in operational command at one point. If anyone has an issue with that decision, I'm all ears, let me have it. But here's the thing--the only direction a good officer kicks is up. So if anyone has an issue with any order she gave, or her personality, her age, her gender, not being human, anything you can goddamned well think of--that stops right here, right now."
He pauses and glances around the room, making sure not linger on any particular person. "I know it didn't go smoothly, but there's not a word in my report, because I know we're all professionals and we can deal with it accordingly." He speaks very slowly. "If anyone has the slightest inkling of being anything other than the spitting image of courtesy and respect to the Ensign from this moment onward you know where to find me." After a pause. he turns and picks up his glass "I'll be standing right here finishing this tasty drink."
He raises it again, and says, with all seriousness. "To many more missions where everyone comes home safe."
Last edited by general_urko; 01 Mar 2015 at 09:00 PM. Reason: spelling
Walcott says, "I'm not sure I'll be able to get back in touch with you - punching a secure signal through to your communicator hasn't been easy - so it'd be best if you were the one to make the call next time. You can reach me through this channel" - she knows her communicator will automatically log it - "or through the resort's front desk. And a word to the wise, Ensign: I'm speaking to several other people, as are other reporters here - some of whom are not nice people. So if you want your story told responsibly, time is of the essence. Walcott out."
Graham notices as he speaks that Lt. JG Haakon Kjaerstad is rather stony-faced; the others at least seem receptive to what he has to say. Ens. Jeanne St. Croix is the first to raise her glass in response to his final toast, and smiles at him warmly. She is then the only one to come up and speak with him other than Mahmoud. "I had no problem with Kylah," Mahmoud says, raising an eyebrow.
"Nor did I," St. Croix said. "But I appreciate the drink, Mr. Graham!"
Kylah stares blankly at her communicator for a moment, trying to parse Walcott's words. '...If you want your story told responsibly,' he said. Whose story did he mean? The mission team's story? Her story? Together with his implication about 'personal involvement,' these statements form an ominous picture. And the other 'not nice' reporters. What exactly do these people think happened? Has anything else already been reported irresponsibly? And how did all this get out so quickly?
She genuinely does not know what to do. On the one hand, she would be glad to speak the truth; she wants to make sure there is no cover-up. But she cannot be indiscreet--for many reasons. Her loyalty to Starfleet, as flawed as it is. Her future career, assuming she has one. And then there is her Guardian. He would not like her to be the source of any public speculation; he wants her to remain where she is until he has drained all the knowledge from her that he can. If her allegiance to the Federation is questioned, she will be of no further use to him in Starfleet. She will have to resign her commission and then...
Kylah does not want to think about it. Her stomach is tight as she forces herself into action, hurrying to find the nearest room with an accessible terminal she can search for news about the investigation.
Last edited by choie; 02 Mar 2015 at 01:52 AM.
Quietly to Mahmoud Graham says "She had a rough go of it down there--for a lot of reasons." He perks up when speaking with St. Croix. "Don't mention it--thank you for being Janey-on-the spot down there. And remind me not to bet against you in the 200."
After making some small talk he approaches Kjaerstad. "I'm sure when you got out of bed the other day, Lieutenant, you hadn't been dreaming sweet dreams of temporarily reporting to an old geezer who'd been busted down to ensign." If the lieutenant has a drink, Graham offers to clink his glass. "Hopefully you won't order me to hand-clean the warp nacelles next time you're in charge of a mission."
Kylah finds an empty crew lounge which has an unattended Library Computer terminal. She soon comes across the news stories mentioned earlier.
Mahmoud nods somberly and sips his drink.
St. Croix says, "Glad to help. It was certainly... interesting." Her French accent and freckles have definitely caught Graham's attention, even given his recent interest in Bennett.
Lt. JG Kjaerstad smiles warily and clinks his glass with Graham's. "That would be an Engineering job, not ours. But don't worry about it, Mr. Graham."
Graham finishes his drink and leaves the room, although not before he makes the rounds once to mention again to Mahmoud that it was nice to see a familiar face on-planet and to say "I'm sure I'll see you around" to St. Croix.
You always did like 'fast women,' hardee har har, Graham thinks, shaking his head as he walks down the corridor. He contemplates the absurd thought of Bennett and St. Croix being set up as romantic rivals... Right, they'll be rivals for my attention right after hell freezes over and a plague makes me the last man in the galaxy.
He's well on his way back to his quarters when he stops and sighs, a sense of responsibility getting the better of him. That get together was a must-do immediately on the heels of the mission...but was it the only one?
He hails the comms officer on duty again. Please please tell me she's already snug in her pyjamas in her quarters and I have an excuse to quit while I'm ahead tonight...
"Can you tell me Ens. Kylah's location, please?"
The words do not change no matter how often Kylah processes them. 'Torrid romance...' '...I will forever be in her debt...'
"That pig," she whispers, shaking her head. "He claims he is in my debt and repays me with this?"
The report does not use her name--that is the only scrap of relief she can drag out from such trash. But now she understands what Walcott meant when he referred to her involvement with a suspect. No. He said suspects. Plural. Who else is... is someone else lying about me?
Who might have seen this? Has Velir? He will not believe it, she thinks, although something sinks within her when she remembers that Velir has made it clear he is suspicious about her behavior with Jan. Nevertheless, no one else who was there, who knows Fastolfe's reputation, could think it was anything but a lie.
Then Kylah remembers Graham's lecture after the search in Fastolfe's house.
"Look," Graham says to her, "We all want to get the job done, however we can. But with men--ah, men like Fastolfe, or this Jan character--you don't have to throw yourself at them. ...I don't know how you took my direction to be 'good cop' with Fastolfe, but you seemed to get a little too...ah, sexual with it. ...Maybe men and women interact differently on Elas... You need to observe or people are going to interpret the wrong way. Or your commanding officer is going to question your judgment."
All this because he had seen her trying to reason with Fastolfe. Perhaps the other officers in the house had made such unsavory leaps of logic too. And Graham told her he had observed her and Jan's kisses on the security video camera. Meaning that the resort's security guard on duty likely saw this as well.
The truth is, the rumors about this 'torrid romance' could have come from just about anyone, not just Fastolfe. That phrase might not even be his own--Fastolfe's direct quotes are accurate enough.
Kylah does not care about the resort staff gossiping about her, except for what they might be telling reporters. The thought of her shipmates knowing just whom Fastolfe meant, however... that is galling. They must be speculating even now, if they have not already figured it out. True, this reporter did not identify her, but Walcott's implication was clear. What if any of the 'not nice' journalists are less discreet and reveal her name, her royal background on Elas?
Unconsciously she moans aloud, then claps a hand over her mouth.
Normal Elasian women are entitled to sex lives. But she is neither a commoner nor Dohlman, free to do as she pleases.
I must clear my name, I must talk to Walcott! Except... I cannot. I must get permission, they will know if I speak to him.
Kylah closes her eyes and counts to ten, then one hundred, trying to decide what to do.
The Communications duty officer on the Bridge says, "Ens. Kylah is near Dr. T'Var's quarters. May I put you through?"
Collins watches Ben as he eats his dinner, taking bites of her own as she does. He's still gorgeous. I wonder if I've healed enough for a little extra curricular activity tonight? Jeremi smiles at Ben, then takes a sip of her wine.
No longer worrying about the last few days and lost in the excellent story, Rangin continues to read to Fujishiro.
Wrapped in the little world of the story, at this time he is able to forget the last few days.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
Graham feels he ought to follow up on the discussion he started with Kylah on OC3--all the more so because he can't imagine she'll be too happy about the press coverage.
He'd like to convince himself that her location implies she's had a good talk with T'Var that somehow has made everything fine, and he's off the hook. But that's self-serving bullshit, Booker, he concludes. Of course whether I'll make things better or worse is an even bet...
"Yes, please, put me through," he replies.
Last edited by general_urko; 03 Mar 2015 at 09:25 AM.
Collins and Cooper have a very pleasant meal together. The pilot is careful not to mention their baby or the miscarriage, but keeps the conversation light.
Rangin reads on. Dr. Villa and other Sickbay staff drift by from time to time and listen a little.
Kylah's communicator beeps again. It is Graham.
The pit in Kylah's stomach grows denser. She lifts her communicator, covers her eyes with her free hand, and says softly, "Yes, Mr. Graham?"
Graham clears his throat, momentarily at a loss as to his next step.
Winging it in the field can sometimes be managed with the judicious use of force. Not so applicable here, Booker...
"Look, ah, we started to have a discussion about, um, events during the mission while we were still planet-side. I ah...I thought it would be best that we didn't let that drop." He clears his throat again.
"The poor girl." That comes to mind as thinks about the press coverage.
What a weird thing to think...I'm not that old for god's sake, and she's not a little kid... but... He winces. Of course you remember exactly what it was like for a young woman to be slandered in 'that way...'
His voice softens. "Also, there's been some...press coverage I wanted to talk to you about before you saw the, ah...well, hell, the crap these scumbags are publishing."
Kylah lets ten seconds pass before she responds.
"Are you displeased with the press coverage, Mr. Graham? Why? Is it because of what they said, or because it was made public?" She laughs humorlessly. "Because unless my memory is mistaken, that unfinished 'discussion' to which you refer consisted of you making much the same assumptions as the news reports.
"Enjoy your rectitude, Mr. Graham. Your first, second and third impressions of me have been proven true, as have Lt. Ferguson's accusations. I am a strumpet who throws herself at men, whether they reciprocate or not. I understand my reputation is soiled, as you predicted, and that my behavior likely caused your Security team to have such contempt for me that they disobeyed my orders and put my life in jeopardy. They will receive no penalty since the breakdown in command was all my own fault, none of theirs."
She takes a deep breath. "There. Does that cover it, or is there something further that you wished to say?"
Last edited by choie; 03 Mar 2015 at 01:20 PM.
Well this is going great, Graham thinks.
He rubs his forehead with his free hand. Like a see-saw, on the one hand his inclination to be pissed off by her outburst is balanced by his assumption that if she was upset before when they talked, she's surely even more upset now--all because of how the mission went down while he was in charge.
He also takes a deep breath and keeps his voice low, slow, and even. "My recollection is that our discussion was about the fact that you wanted to see the mission through, despite having a rough go of it." He pauses for emphasis. "And despite the fact that you said did not get the backup you expected, something I take seriously."
What the hell do I say now? he wonders. What would Rangin say? 'Blah blah urbane blah blah witty,' 'Ooh, Mr. Rangin is so urbane and witty.'
"It's my responsibility my team come back safe from missions--emotionally as well as physically."
Dammit. OK, don't say 'dammit.' It's surprisingly easy. however, to stifle the inclination to turn the conversation into an inquiry into her behavior--even though he does have some things he'd like to know. Or maybe, I don't want to know, he thinks. Beyond than the obvious that in that case there'd be nothing stopping her from simply closing the channel given that he no longer holds temporary rank--the mission overall was flirting with FUBAR most of the time, and this is like her second and your what, thousandth, Booker?
He clears his throat. "At the very least, I'd like to understand how I could do better by you if there's a next mission like this one."
Last edited by general_urko; 03 Mar 2015 at 06:14 PM. Reason: heh added little Rangin tirade
It seems as if Kylah's exhaustion from the mission has reached tentacles out to drag her back into its relentless grip. She drops her head into her hand again, shaking it. "I suppose we had innumerable unfinished discussions," she mutters, massaging her temples. "If you do not remember your lecture to me outside Lord Fastolfe's home, as prophetic as it was, so be it. We will discuss this instead. I did see the mission through. I tried to do so adequately, but I was hindered by both my own mistakes, which I admit to, as well as your team. And turning to that issue, I do not appreciate your phrasing, sir."
The formal address is automatic, a leftover from the past few days, and she almost bites her tongue in annoyance at having used it. But she hurries on, more upset. "You make it sound as if you do not believe me--I only 'said' I did not get the backup I 'expected.' Do you not know what happened in the incident with Mrs. Hsu? Did Lt. Kjaerstad or Mr. Russell not make a full report to you? Do you think I ended up facing that woman alone because I was reckless?"
Frustrated, she forces herself to her feet. "This is foolish. I cannot speak to you on a communicator. If you truly want to know how you can do better by me--although if there is another mission like this, I swear by the Tellun Star it will be my last--then talk to me in person. If you are as astute a judge of character as your many years on the job would indicate, you will see my face and judge whether I am honest. I am in the crew lounge near Dr. T'Var's quarters."
"Excuse me for a few," Collins tells Cooper, "Nature is calling." She gets up from the table and starts towards the head. Once out of his sight, she messages Dr. Villa "Is it safe for me to resume physical intimacy? /s/ Lt JG Collins". Jeremi waits a few minutes for a response, and also to give the impression of having done what she said she was doing.
Last edited by anyrose; 03 Mar 2015 at 09:31 PM.
Dr. Villa replies, Yes, in moderation. Stop at once and come to Sickbay if you become uncomfortable or are in pain. VILLA.
Collins messages back a thank you and returns to the table with a smile. "Where were we?" she asks Cooper.
T'Var wonders what to do next. Should she head for Sickbay and try to focus on work? Or should she spend some time in meditation?
The doctor decides that after her conversation with Kylah, meditation is the best medicine.
Last edited by WES; 04 Mar 2015 at 08:23 AM. Reason: wrong spelling
"I'll be right there," Graham replies to Kylah, double timing it toward the lounge.
Cooper says with a smile, "I think you were going to decide on dessert for us both."
T'Var's thoughts are awhirl (even for a Vulcan) after her adventures on the surface, and the uncomfortable notion that Palver might have tampered with her mind, and it takes her longer than usual to achieve a calm and meditative state.
Graham finds Kylah without difficulty. She is alone in the small crew lounge.
Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 04 Mar 2015 at 01:21 PM.
Kylah snaps her communicator shut and returns it to her belt, her mouth a tight line. If Kjaerstad has truly failed to recount his negligence to Graham--or, worse, if he gave a misleading version of the events leading up to Kylah's confrontation with Mrs. Hsu--Kylah is unsure if anything she says will convince Graham that she was left in the lurch by Security multiple times. He already believes her judgment to be poor, not entirely without cause, and his opinion of her character is clearly dismal: it did not escape her notice that he never disagreed with the notion that she is some sort of sexual predator. So why would he trust her over a superior officer?
She folds her arms across her chest in guarded preparation for whatever unpleasantness is about to occur. Soon the lounge door opens and she sees Graham for the first time since they left the planet.
"Thank you for coming," she says curtly. "Will you now answer the questions I put to you? Are you aware--are you even willing to be made aware--of just how poorly your Security team performed when you were away from the resort? If you do not care that they disobeyed me, you should mind that by doing so, they were disregarding your orders. But I--" Her hard voice wavers and chokes for a second. "I wish their putting me at risk would be enough for you to take them to task."
Last edited by choie; 04 Mar 2015 at 01:36 PM.
"Ah, yes." Collins gets a little twinkle in her eye. "Let me surprise you." She goes to the replicator, taps the screen a few times, and comes back with two slices of Limoncello Marscapone cake. "I think you will like this," Jeremi says as she hands one plate to Ben, then sits down. She waits for him to taste it, so she can see his reaction, before she eats hers.
Graham is silent for a moment after Kylah speaks. He slowly takes a seat.
To be sure, there have been times when given her age, gender, size--and sometimes, demeanor--Kylah reminded him of his daughter--which I haven't found easy to deal with, he thinks. Certainly to deal with well...
The more she invokes specific problems from the mission, however, the more she also evokes line-of-duty conversations. How many times have I wound up talking to someone who got their first savaging in the press, used serious force for the first time, or--for that matter--were torn up inside because they knew they had screwed up big time and it was eating them up?
It makes it easier to feel concern--or, although I'm sure Rangin would never believe it--compassion--with less anxiety associated with other baggage...
He clears his throat. "Look, just...ah, try to relax for a moment. I didn't come hear to impugn your judgment or cross-examine you." He pauses and rubs his chin. "I think a lot of stuff went wrong down there. For a lot of reasons....For the record, I already had a chat with the whole Security team to make the point that if they have any heartburn about you being in charge, their problem is with me, not you."
He frowns slightly. "You're probably just as likely to be angry rather than appreciative about the way I handle things, but let's get this straight, OK: I'm here to hear what happened. From you."
He thinks I am upset that they merely resented me. Kylah turns away from him, her gaze dropping to the computer terminal. Such a thing matters little to her. She has been disliked her entire life; she knows she earns little affection from anyone.
"I do not care whether they detested me for being outside of Security, or my age, or my inexperience, or my being one of those wanton Elasian women," she says quietly. "Or all of the above. I care that the mission and my life were both put in jeopardy by their disobedience."
She faces him, unable to hide the betrayal she feels. "I think you should have spoken to me first, before having any meeting with the Security team. I understand you feel more kinship toward them, but I was--I was part of the landing party crew. You put me in charge. And you knew, you heard, that I was forced to deal with Mrs. Hsu alone. Why would you not ask me how such a thing occurred?
"But now that is irrelevant. It is too late, you did not know the truth and thus it is not in your AMR. And Commander Vargas will likely disregard what happened because it is not backed up by a member of his own department. He is no doubt a fine First Officer, but in the end he is Security Chief. You are a breed apart--you feel that yourself, I know you do. And soldiers stick together."
She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. "Very well. Here is the truth. I was up in the administrative office area with Ensign Russell and Mr. Hsu when Lt. Kjaerstad contacted us all over the open channel to tell us about the transporter being in use. Immediately I started off in that direction, simultaneously ordering Lt. Garcia to meet me at the transporter room. Next, as I was heading off, I told Russell to stay in the administrative area with Mr. Hsu, who was refusing to join me. I had only taken a few steps when I turned to ask Russell to see whether Mrs. Hsu was still in her office.
"He said she was not there. Of course we all assumed she had either transported herself or someone had done it for her. This was not the case, as you know. By then I was already in the fire stairwell." Kylah closes her eyes, taking herself back to those frenetic moments during the chase. "I contacted both Garcia and Kjaerstad to inform them of Mrs. Hsu's disappearance, and told Kjaerstad to view the security footage to see if he could locate her. I asked Garcia to keep an eye out for her as well while he was on his way to meet me."
Her eyes fly open when she remembers something. "In fact... Mr. Graham, you ordered both me and Garcia to continue on our way to the transporter. And I am certain that is when Kjaerstad responded that first, the transporter was just warming up, and second, he had Garcia checking the security logs. So you--you should have realized that my orders had been ignored and that I was alone." She shakes her head swiftly. "I understand it must have all been too chaotic to hear over your communicator. But he did say it. I am sure of it.
"By this time I was still heading to the transporter and had to deal with the new information that Mrs. Hsu had clearly not transported after all. After confirming this with Russell--who should have given more than a cursory glance at Mrs. Hsu's office in the first place--I then realized what Kjaerstad had just said: that Garcia was now with him.
"I asked why my orders had been disregarded. Kjaerstad excused his actions by saying that he could not try to view the security logs and look over video footage. So he had made this unilateral decision without bothering to tell me, knowing I was on my own. I might add that there were resort security guards in there with him. He could have asked any of them to assist rather than leaving a fellow officer to hunt a fugitive by herself."
Kylah feels her face burning at the memory of her fear and anger at this betrayal. "You know what happened after that. I contacted you for assistance. You assumed Garcia was with me, but I told you he was not. And... and then you guided me through the events that followed." Her voice softens. "I hope you know I have not forgotten that. And will not forget that. I know you were of great assistance to me, and I--I am extremely appreciative. I can still be angry at other issues and remember the support you lent me."
Last edited by choie; 04 Mar 2015 at 07:14 PM.
Cooper tastes the cake and chews a bit before he swallows. He takes a drink of water and says, "Thanks, but I don't like lemon all that much."
"Sorry about that. What flavors do you like?" Collins is a little hurt, but is determined to hide it.
Graham listens intently to Kylah, leaning forward slightly in his chair as she speaks.
When she finishes, he frowns. "It was the least I could do..." He sighs. "Yeah, nearly the least, I guess."
He clears his throat. "Look--one thing, first, you can drop this...harlot, strumpet thing..." He quickly raises his hands. "Unless...we're all adults, of course, you can lead any lifestyle you want." He lowers his eyes.
"I have a daughter, she's about your age now..." His voice drops almost to whisper.
“Raaaaarrrrgh! I’m a space monster!”
"Leave me alone," she said, holding one hand over the cut on her forehead and stumbling to her room. "It was better when you weren't here!"
He can 't bring himself to raise his eyes because there's too much going on behind them. "I have four sisters, too," he adds, finally lookng back up at Kylah even though some of those memories as just as bittersweet, but his voice strengthens and he speaks with flat and utter certainty. "I'll never use those words or any like them with anyone."
He clears his throat yet again, but now speaks with more confidence.
"There were a lot of things I had no intention of putting in my AMR," he says, now holding her eyes and speaking slowly. He breaks eye contact and shakes his head. "Things were messed up down there--not the right situation to really figure out who's fit for the job, or reliable. We need to do it, but not by getting into a pissing contest about what went down on OC3."
He raises a hand and speaks with certainty. "I can't tell Vargas how to run his department or the ship, but if there's anyone to answer for letting things get that bad down there, it'll be me if I can help it."
He rubs his head and stands up. "Yeah...uh, well, I get what happened. You can trust me that I'm going to do my damndest to make sure that sort of thing doesn't happen again. I'm sure you want to be anywhere but here, with anyone but me."
He puts his hands on his hips, in this case not feeling self-conscious about towering over his much smaller colleague. "But just--" He grunts. "The way things got fouled up makes OC3 a bad scene. Still is, with these journalist assholes trying to make up stories with Fastolfe's help. Take some advice from someone who, however he's screwed up, has at least survived in Starfleet: don't dwell on the bad scene." He softens his tone. "It's about what happens next. Don't...don't let trying to fix what's past consume you."
He feels blood draining from his face as he says this. Really, Booker, did you just say don't let trying to fix what's past consume you?
Kylah listens, a myriad of emotions--both her own and Graham's--churning within her and making it difficult to keep calm. A few times she nearly interrupts him but holds her tongue until he is through. In the end he looks as if he does not believe the words he has just spoken. Which is good, because she does not either.
"There are some things in the past one cannot fix. That are immutable. I understand that very clearly--I have for years, but even more so now than ever before." She puts her hands on her hips, unconsciously echoing his pose, and shakes her lowered head. "I appreciate that you will not call me cruel names. But I also know that when you mention not writing up certain events in your AMR, you are likely referring to what you think I did..." Kylah lets the words fade, then starts again. "...What you know I did that first night. I am grateful you did not, but if you had, I would deserve to answer for it. And perhaps I will, depending on what the news reports say. Those who wish to see me suffer further have an easy job."
She takes a ragged breath and looks up at him. "But even though what happened cannot be fixed, neither can what happens now--and in the future--be prevented if someone errs yet faces no consequences for his actions. No matter how grievous." Kylah bites her lips, again shaking her head. "I am tired, so very tired of people who harm others and take no responsibility. Who feel no contrition. Who deny that what they did was even wrong."
It is difficult to maintain composure now and she struggles to do so, clenching her fists. This is not about Jan, this is not about my uncle, this is about now, this is about what can be fixed.
"In the Hsu situation... Lt. Kjaerstad was entirely to blame. Not only was he is an experienced security officer, senior to me and even to you. But he was on the scene, right there, in the security room, with all the cameras inches from him. At every moment he was abreast of the situation, he was on every open channel and I made sure he was informed--"
Now she gives a dry chuckle. "Indeed, Mr. Graham, the truth is, Kjaerstad was more informed than either of us! He heard my orders, he knew where Garcia was supposed to be, he knew where I was heading, he heard you order Garcia to be with me. And yet he specifically told Garcia to help him look at video. Lt. Garcia may have argued, I do not even know, but Garcia may not have been aware that he was the only person backing me up.
"Besides, Garcia is not a Security officer, this is not his area of expertise. Kjaerstad does not have that excuse. He disobeyed. He did. He put me in harm's way. I do not know if it was on purpose, I cannot fathom why he would have done so. But then," she adds bitterly, "human males are often unfathomable to me. Whatever the reason, he overrode my orders, your orders, and let me go up to that transporter door alone."
Kylah swallows, her throat dry. "So now, despite such manifest negligence or maliciousness on his part, you say you will answer for letting things get 'bad.' Why? Why should you do that? I did not tell you this so that you would shoulder this burden on your own. That can be a noble act, to cover for someone else, but not now. Not in this situation. At least when I made my mistakes, I put no one's welfare in jeopardy but my own. With this..." Kylah senses the genuine guilt flowing from him and she has to force back the instinct to step closer. "Mr. Graham, you must not take responsibility for something you did not do. You were not there. You could do nothing, you did not even know what was happening. If you had--"
Breaking off, she finally does move infinitesimally nearer to him and continues in a low voice. "I tell you this now. You and I have had our differences, many of them. But I know one thing: If you had been there, you would never have let me face that alone. You would have made sure someone was with me. In fact you would likely have moved the heavens to be by my side. For all our disagreements, I know that much about you, Booker Graham.
"But you were not there, and could not prevent it. This was not your fault. It was not." She stares intently at him, feeling the weight of his guilt but not understanding it. "You must not blame yourself. It will help nothing to do that. What will help is if you place the responsibility on the shoulders of the man who did make the mistake." She wipes her tears again. "If you do not, what gets learned? What will change? Is that not the point of what you do? Assisting others? Making things better?"
Last edited by choie; 05 Mar 2015 at 01:01 AM.
Graham wishes he had something to offer Kylah to wipe her face.
"You're point is well taken," he says, now decisive. "There was a specific tactical breakdown, and what should have happened instead is obvious." He shrugs and tries to smile. "Maybe not so much to Garcia, 'never abandoning your partner' may be less relevant if you're facing a particularly nasty algorithm..."
He takes and exhales a deep breath. "Like a lot of stuff on this mission, I don't think it's necessary to put on anybody's record at this point," he says quietly. "But I will deal with it head on with them."
He shifts backward slightly, thinking it may be time to go. "Look, ah--don't worry about the press, obviously you must have seen it. I'm sure assholes like Fastolfe peddle bullshit like this to hacks all the time. It'll blow over." He nods, then turns toward the door. He stops, although he doesn't turn around.
"And it's not just me." His voice is unnaturally level, almost on the edge of menace given the conviction behind it; he's knows he's making a statement of fact. You let things like that happen before, when you were young and scared and weak. You're none of the above anymore. Arguably never letting it happen your watch again is the whole reason the Booker Graham everyone knows and loves so much today--well, except Rangin--came to be.
"No one on this ship is going to call you cruel names." He waves his hand to trigger the door.
Cooper says, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe some strawberries? Do you like them?"
The door opens and Graham sees a Sidonian female in Command gold walk by in the corridor.
"Would you like a strawberry-almond mousse?" Jeremi asks her dinner companion. "I could program my grandmother's recipe."
Kylah looks at him blankly. He says he understands that there was a--what did he call it? "Tactical breakdown," something to that effect? A phrase so diplomatic and vague it might have come straight from her Guardian. In addition to his sweeping it all under such a bland heading, no names are mentioned nor blame properly designated except for a dismissive remark about Garcia... someone outside Security, of course.
Her anger is worn out, dulled by the futility of it all. Nevertheless she inhales and forces out: "If you plan to make the rounds among your colleagues, you might as well include Russell and Rawlings," she says, her voice flat. "Russell unilaterally chose to disregard both my and your orders to put Hsu in the resort's security area to consolidate our activities, instead moving him all the way to a hotel suite; he did so without asking for permission to change orders, only telling me after the fact.
"And Rawlings... You know I thought Palver was guilty long before Hardin even made his absurd confession. When Palver was leaving the library, I asked Rawlings to contact you and make sure that a transporter jammer was placed near Palver's guest house. Sure enough, Rawlings failed to act on my suggestion. That is why Palver escaped, why we were taken captive, paralyzed, and nearly brainwashed." Kylah is still reciting in a monotone. "At least Rawlings was genuinely sorry. Russell felt no such remorse. You see, Mr. Graham, it is endemic. Either your entire department is full of incompetents, or they had no respect for me, or even for you, since I was acting as your proxy. But you must do as you think best. Speak to them one at a time. Man to man. I know now that is your way."
Kylah exhales and finishes with a quiet, "Whatever happens, thank you for listening."
She returns to the chair by the computer and sits down. In truth, Kylah is not surprised that Graham seems unable or unwilling to break the unofficial Security officer code: do not cause trouble for your fellows in the line of duty. But she is disappointed. She went out of her way to relieve his self-blame, to put the responsibility where it belongs. Still he cannot bring himself to even validate her description of Kjaerstad's actions. No record will be kept, no reference will be made higher up on the chain of command. And yet Graham thinks that, somehow, he will take care of things. Somehow, by dint of his own pure will, the entire ship including Lt. JG. Mark Ferguson will accede to his insistence that Kylah will be called no names. How does he hope to achieve this? By the all-mighty, all-protective power of his menacing stare, no doubt.
That stare will not follow me through the corridors or lounges or... or rec rooms, she thinks miserably with a dark memory of Ferguson's cruel accusation. Kylah knows all too well that people will talk, they will say things, in any private moment they can.
The thought of Ferguson's public display, seen by only a few but surely the tale has spread by now, makes her groan and turn back to stare at the words on the terminal. How well it all fits together. The news and gossip outlets will have a field day with everything they can easily unearth. Combined with Ferguson's claims... What a picture it paints of her. What a vile, tawdry picture, worse for having a core of truth thanks to her stupid, reckless, helpless behavior in that wretched hotel suite.
Kylah's fists tighten. I must do something, I cannot let this fester--and there is no time! Walcott's warning echoes ominously in her mind. She has to speak to someone. Get advice. Graham is not that person, he thinks it will all vanish by magic. Desperately Kylah tries to think of a solution, but the only thing that strikes her is the gnawing hunger for comfort. And inevitably that leads her to: I must see Velir.
Last edited by choie; 05 Mar 2015 at 04:08 PM.
Graham turns, although he does not move back into the room at all. "I didn't mean to cut you off, before you were done...reporting." He frowns, and then takes a step toward Kylah, subconsciously aligning his body so she could not get by him to reach the door even if she'd wanted to.
"I'm not disputing your account. This is...this is about respect too. Sometimes things are messy enough that you need to take a little time to figure out whether people have made a one-off mistake, or whether maybe they are not fit for their jobs, or whether they were deliberately out of line...sometimes it makes sense to get some more information about people before rushing to judgment."
He pauses and licks his lips, his mouth suddenly dry, his stomach hollow.
"At the time I checked the video monitor in the Security office, my first instinct was that we should reel you in and send you back to the ship on report. But I didn't make an issue of it."
Hell this is where you didn't want to go...back to the past indeed..."You would never have let me face that alone." But I did. "you would likely have moved the heavens to be by my side." But I didn't. Again. Not 'again' for you...but like...
"Not long after, my instinct was to back you up at that hotel on the double but..." He pauses and swallows. "But I let Collins call me off."
He says what he hasn't wanted to think about.
"One of those decisions has to have been wrong."
The same thoughts that have tormented him for a decade fill his mind again.
What was it like be alone, hoping for help, someone, anyone...?
He turns to go...somewhere, anywhere.
Cooper smiles and says, "Sounds complicated... but I'm willing to try it."
The lounge door, having earlier closed, opens again. A yeoman in Engineering red walks by, a tricorder strap over her shoulder. She nods at Graham and passes by.
Graham's speech continues to drain Kylah's soul of any of its hope that what she said matters. I knew it. I knew it, she thinks as the text on the screen mocks her, a perfect accompaniment to Graham's pointed comments indicating that no, he is not reporting his colleagues' mistakes--just as he gallantly refrained from describing Kylah's impropriety in his AMR.
He may not realize how his words are coming across, but to Kylah this reminder seems little different from Walcott's not-very-veiled attempt at quid pro quo: Give your story to me, tell me everything and I will be as sympathetic as I can; if you do not, remember that the clock is ticking until my fellow reporters share the tales we have heard about your sordid activity.
Graham's deal is not far removed from that blackmail: Leave all this to me, I will protect you--but if you continue to complain that I did not report this to my superiors, do not forget that I possess information that could ruin you.
And just as she is processing this, Graham reveals that after spying on her in that security room, he wanted to barge in on her and Jan in the hotel, but was stopped by Collins.
Kylah's breathing freezes, only returning with a harsh gasp. She has no idea which aspect of this revelation is more horrifying: that her sexual activity was apparently a matter for discussion between Graham and Collins, of all people; that Graham might have forced his way into the room and seen her in such a shameful state...
Or that her degradation, her complete domination by forces she was powerless to control, came so close to being prevented--but was not.
She covers her eyes, wildly confused by all this as mortification burns the skin beneath her fingertips. "I understand, Mr. Graham," she croaks, desperate to escape from this discussion. "Decide as you must, do as you must. I promise I will not complain further, I will not bring it up again. Just please, go."
Last edited by choie; 05 Mar 2015 at 06:57 PM.
"You'll love it." Collins jumps up and sprints to the replicator, making sure not to knock anyone over who also might be walking around. She taps the replicator panel, and swipes a few things I the screen. Moments later, a small bowl appears in which is a thick pale pink foam, on top of which is a dollop of whipped cream and some shaved almonds. Jeremi makes a grand gesture of presenting the dish to Ben, then sits and watches him taste it.
Just please go.
The words hit him like a hammer blow. Graham's sure one of Kylah's Elasian knives plunging into the back of his neck would have hurt less.
They'd argued until there was nothing more to argue about shipping out on Graham's next assignment, or stepping away from Starfleet to accompany Jane.
"Just go," she'd said, once they were both exhausted and at a loss...
And Graham had gone, without turning around, without saying anything.
Because he'd assumed there'd be another time when he could apologize.
Or when she could apologize.
Or they could argue some more.
Anything but there not being another time.
He nods autonomically to the passing crew member and walks --staggers, almost--in the other direction.
Cooper tastes a spoonful of the mousse, smiles, and then takes another. "Mmm, much better - thanks!"
Graham makes his way down the corridor. Several people look oddly at him before a man in Engineering protective coveralls, a helmet under his elbow, stops and asks, "Are you all right, sir?"
Graham is aware that dropping to his knees would be a bad way to avoid further conversation that he doesn't want to have. Nonetheless he has to extend an arm to steady himself against the wall. "I, ah..."
He bows his head for a moment and squeezes his eyes tightly shut, then looks back at the engineer. "I, uh, just need to clear my head, thanks," he mumbles, forcing himself to stand upright. "Thanks, I'll be fine," he adds, nodding an acknowledgment of the man's concern while steadying his walk.
I just need to clear my head...someplace... he repeats like a mantra as he walks somewhat robotically toward--after a moment's hesitation--the Arboretum.
Kylah rubs her tired eyes for a few moments, taking calming breaths without much success. Her instincts again tell her to reach out to Velir. She lifts her communicator. Although uncertain how or even whether he will respond, she knows the matter is too urgent to hesitate. "Kylah to Rangin," she says, before blurting: "Velir, I am sorry to bother you. If possible I would like to talk--I need to talk. Please. Where are you?"
Velir feels the communicator go off and see it's Kylah. He sighs and takes a deep breath, wondering what she would want? He mused thinking of a few possibilities, but shook his head, because it was likely that anything he could think of would be different to what the reality of any situation was.
"Excuse me Fujishiro," Velir says almost automatically, "I believe I need to take this."
Standing up and moving away from the chair, bracing himself for what Kylah might say, he answers the call.
"Hello Kylah, how are you doing?", his voice calm and relaxed, "I'm in Sickbay, visiting."
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
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