Rangin shifts his position slightly to stand between Collins and Fesek just to provide a little cover.
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Rangin shifts his position slightly to stand between Collins and Fesek just to provide a little cover.
Graham nods amiably, and casually keeps his hands in view as he back up, then turns and goes into the other room, slowly given that he knows T'Var is there.
"All clear," he starts to say as he anticipates coming into her view.
He gives the doctor a thumbs up. "These guys want to talk...I'll give you the rundown in a moment--can you round up the others by the kitchen* while I see what the word is from Collins?"
He checks the message he received.
*I believe the kitchen is a reasonable distance and and out of sight of the guys waiting in the foyer.
Yes, the kitchen would serve for that purpose. Graham reads Collins's text.
T'Var nods, and texts Kylah and Morris: Come downstairs to the kitchen. We have visitors from President Okmyx, and Mr. Graham would like to meet. T'VAR.
Kylah has listened as best she could through the door, though the voices have been muffled. The sudden silence worries her. Now she gets the text message from Dr. T'Var and she bites her lip in consternation, glancing from her communicator to Lt. Morris. It seems strange that T'Var is contacting her when Mr. Graham should be in charge. It almost feels like a trap.
"I... I am reluctant to respond immediately," she says very quietly. "These men should not know you are here--if they were watching this building, they only saw two of us enter. And I am surprised that Mr. Graham would truly risk revealing your presence, which could lead to your capture. Let me make certain everything is secure first."
Quickly she dashes off a note to Graham. Sir, before I continue I would like confirmation of your identity, please. What planet did we visit most recently? She hopes that a man with his knowledge of strategy will know to tell the truth if all is well, and lie if he is being coerced.
Graham realizes he had no reason to assume the message was from Collins other than his hope she'd be exercising tactical control even if Rangin was still in charge, and not wanting to read any of Rangin's smarmy bullshit.
He's gratified. In some ways a cult of Feddy--either as an authentic movement or a power play--makes sense given what he's been briefed on about their memetic culture.
Kylah's note catches his by surprise. Anubis? Or do you mean OC3? he texts back. Is everything OK? he adds quickly.
Mr. Graham's response relieves Kylah, and she exhales as she types: Yes, Mr. Graham. I was concerned that your message might have come from the visitors. I did not know what happened downstairs. Also, since two of us beamed here directly, I do not believe the Iotians could have observed them, or know that there are more than two of us in the building. Is it wise to expose Lt. Morris's presence to them, by revealing our precise number? She hesitates, shaking her head to herself. Forgive me if this is an abundance of caution, but I want to ensure the safety of the man in my charge.
Garcia walks back to Rangin and Collins just as Fesek brings Krako over to the edge of the stage. Fesek says, "Captain, these folks say they may be able to help us find the missing Feddies."
"Is that right?" asks Krako, clearly interested. Rangin and Collins can see from this close that his Starfleet uniform, just like others they've seen Iotians wearing, isn't quite regulation in cut or fabric. "We could use the help. C'mon, let's talk." He gestures for you to follow and starts towards the door beside the stage.
Graham smiles slightly, impressed by--and, in point of fact, proud of the young ensign. Nothing to apologize for. That's good thinking. We're safe for the moment. In fact I could use your expertise we play out the invitation we've gotten to talk with Okmyx.
Collins waits for Rangin and Garcia to follow Krako so she can watch the rear.
Rangin nods to obvious man in charge not wanting to ruin the atmosphere, while wondering why on earth Garcia came back to join them seeing as he had asked Collins to make sure Garcia knew he was backup. Maybe he should have made the comms call himself just to make sure, but as of now it didn't matter. The three of them are in it up to about waste height, and Rangin only hoped that he would get an opportunity to find out later in more serene circumstances, but regardless he leads them on.
"Figure it would be good to lend a hand. Not sure how much we can help out, but I'm always in line to find out what we can do."
Following Krako, Fesek guides the three Starfleet personnel to an elaborately-decorated meeting room in the back of the building. A large wooden table in the room is ringed by well-upholstered chairs. Several big men in ill-fitting red-shirted uniforms stand silent guard at the door, which they close behind you, and along the walls. Fesek sits down. Krako goes over to a bar and pours himself a big drink from a decanter. He asks, "You want something? Some great booze here."
Morris asks Kylah, "Should we go downstairs, then...?"
"Just some coffee," Collins says pleasantly, then quickly adds "with no booze, please, thanks." She smiles at Krako and his crew.
"Veek," Krako says to one of the mooks, "go get the lady a coffee, would ya?"
Kylah looks at Lt. Morris, not comfortable with bringing him downstairs even with Mr. Graham's encouragement.
"Yes," she says slowly. "Although I wish we could alter your appearance in some way. If one of the women in your group had some cosmetics, I could draw a convincing thin mustache... Admittedly I have never seen a mustache on a Starfleet officer, that I can recall. It does not seem to be regulation. On the other hand, the local people are hardly likely to know that. What do you think?" Gnawing at a thumbnail, she continues to ponder. "Also, is there a back stairwell to the kitchen? My knowledge of old Earth is sketchy, but I do know old buildings like this often had servants' passageways to keep them from being seen by their employers and others of the upper classes."
Morris smiles at the suggestion of a mustache. "If the people downstairs are really from Okmyx, they're probably going to recognize me anyway. I know most of his entourage. Yes, there is a back stairway to the kitchen. We don't use it much, but it's there."
Kylah nods. She wishes she felt more confident, more competent. She doubts she is any more skilled than Lt. Morris at defensive fighting; neither of them have specialized in action. But she fakes certainty. "That is good," she says, slipping her communicator back into her sash and pulling out her phaser. "We will take those stairs, then. I am sure Ensign Graham and Dr. T'Var will be prepared to protect you."
She hesitates, waiting for him to guide her to the back stairs, and then moves ahead of him so she can descend first. She murmurs, "I promised you, when I first spoke with you while on the Yorktown, that we would keep you safe. I will keep that promise as best I can, sir."
Rangin urges himself to keep moving forward realising he will be stepping into a crime boss' lair replete with goons and trouble and is normally averse to such situations. But he is responsible for the three of them and so is going to do his best not to get them killed. His eyes flicker around the room quickly counting each redshirted goon, seeing how each one is is lounging, what weapons each are carrying, probably some local guns hidden away in some pocket. He tries not to smile too much at the thought that Graham would fit in right alongside the muscle in this room, and hopes that T'Var is managing to keep a muzzle on that maniac.
"No thank you sir," he answers calmly to Krako indicating an acknowledgement of the uniform he is wearing. Rangin wouldn't dream of accepting anything at this time, maybe once he had earned it from Krako he wouldn't be put in any precarious position for the action. Then again, Collins ordering a coffee might be different enough to throw the group slightly, perhaps be a little more intrigued by the three of them. He waits for Krako to start speaking, or more likely, asking questions.
Morris nods nervously. "Thank you, Ensign. I appreciate that." He follows Kylah downstairs. Dr. T'Var is already in the kitchen, which looks like a typical Twenties kitchen but with some subtle Federation tech.
Garcia also declines a drink. Rangin sees that none of Krako's men is obviously armed.
Krako takes a big gulp from his drink and throws himself into a chair. "So, anyway... where you from? What got you interested in my Federation? Did you like the rally?"
Collins decides to let Rangin do the talking. She doesn't want to say anything that will tip their hand. She just sips her coffee.
Graham's wondering what the delay is in Kylah and Morris coming downstairs and briefly debates what to do - but in any event he isn't going up there without T'Var being on station to make sure the goons stay put. With one glance back toward the foyer he pokes his head in the kitchen.
He blinks once, then puts together two and two. Rather than hassle Kylah about keeping him posted (or not), he concludes on balance encouragement is the right command decision.
"Abundance of caution, Mr. Kylah. Good idea in present company," he says, pointing over this shoulder with one thumb. He gestures for the group to gather closer, and speaks in a low voice.
"OK - apparently, Krako has some kind of wanna-be Federation thing going on. Per their update sounds like Collins and the team are set up to talk with him. For our part, there's a group of...uh, gentlemen...offering to escort us to talk to Okmyx. Reason being he's shocked by the abduction and wants to help." He rolls his eyes. "Well, we'll see about that. I've emphasized what transporters can do if they double cross us. My call is we play it out and see what he has to say. Questions? Input?" He glances at T'Var first out of respect for both her rank and giving him operational command, then to Kylah and Morris.
The mook leaves and soon returns with a china mug of coffee for Collins. It is bitter and not especially hot.
T'Var says, "We would have to speak to Mr. Okmyx eventually anyway, but I cannot say I am pleased to do so under these circumstances."
Morris rubs his chin. "I'm inclined to agree. But I have no better ideas for now, Mr. Graham."
yuck! thinks Collins after the first sip, but, hey. it's coffee. She resists the urge to outwardly grimace, and takes small sips, just for the jolt.
The muscles in Kylah's stomach relax--she has not even realized how tense she was until now--when both Dr. T'Var and Lt. Morris express their reservations about leaving with these gangsters. She does not want to be thought a coward, but Dr. T'Var already knows some of her failings, and Mr. Graham even more of them. So Kylah exhales her own response in a whispered rush: "I agree, I do not think we should go. At least, not with Lt. Morris. We could be handing him to the very people who captured his colleagues." If only he would let us beam him to the ship for safety, she thinks, although she understands his desire to help search for his friends.
Wishing she could think of a solid plan, Kylah can only shake her head. "Still, it is an opportunity to meet with the leader. Perhaps two of us should go? And one stay behind with Lt. Morris?"
"Around," replies Rangin before smoothly continuing onwards, "Saw the rally being held from a while away, quite a few people dressing for the occasion you might say and wanted to see it for my own eyes. I've heard a bit, well who hasn't, and it would be a shame to miss an opportunity like this."
Rangin wonders what angle to take with him. General philanthropy on this planet would be unlikely. Enlightened self-interest, a chance to be in towards the top, that's more like it. "Times are a-changing and from what you said tonight, it's something I'd like to be part of. So, I figure I'd see if we can lend a hand looking for that missing group. It'd be a start, at least."
The coffee gets no better as Collins sips it.
Morris shakes his head in response to Kylah's suggestion. "Sorry, no. Where you go, I go. This is important to me, and besides, there's strength in numbers."
"'Around,' huh?" Krako asks Rangin. His eyes narrow a little. "Care to be more specific? I know most of the folks in this town, and I don't think I've seen any of you before."
Kylah clamps her jaw tightly shut and hopes she did not offend Lt. Morris. She casts him an understanding glance and then focuses on Mr. Graham, an idea striking her. "Before we anger them by refusing their invitation--if it really is an invitation and not a threat--with your permission, sir, I would like to ask questions of them. Their story is... not convincing. Why were they watching an empty building for days after the kidnapping had already taken place? Did they know that Lt. Morris was not among those taken and were hoping to see him return? And if so, how did they know?"
She nods toward the kitchen door before continuing in her hushed voice. "I think we should speak to them and pretend as if we do not know that one of the intended victims evaded capture. Act as if we are assuming the entire group is in peril. If they correct us, it will be enlightening. If they are unaware that we are wrong, it may show. I might be able--" Kylah stops abruptly and, embarrassed, looks at the Vulcan beside her. Dr. T'Var probably knows what she was about to say. But Kylah can no longer expect to be able to tell if they are lying. Her benumbed empathic abilities are so weak and unpredictable. Only if she manages to get in physical contact with one of them... that usually enhances her connection. But it is not reliable.
"--I might be able to trick them into revealing something," she finishes weakly. "But either way I think only you and I should go out there, Mr. Graham. We should maintain the façade that there are only a pair of us--those they saw enter the building." Biting her lower lip, she searches Mr. Graham's face. "Do you--do you agree, sir?"
Graham listens intently, then glances from Kylah to T'Var. He rubs his chin as he turns back to the young ensign.
"You raise a good point," he says slowly. "There's no need to show our hand by having Morris walk right out there straight off. And you'll be better at wheedling something out of them that me."
He nods. "Play it how you want to--I'll have your back," he says to Ens. Kylah. He shrugs and smiles slightly. "Just bear in mind I think an appointment with Okmyx is a good lead. The head good is named 'Kalo.'"
He addresses T'Var and Morris. "Assuming all goes well, we'll give you the green light. In fact I may juts blurt our that phrase."
"If you're ready--" he says to Kylah. He glances at Morris. "You know Kalo? Any advice for Mr. Kylah?"
T'Var nods at what Kylah says.
Morris says, "Kalo is Okmyx's right-hand man, his chief muscle and enforcer. He's not the sharpest blade in the drawer... but he's no fool, I'd say. He's pretty hard-nosed and efficient." He thinks a moment. "I don't think I've ever known him to be dishonest. By Iotian Mob standards, anyway, he's a man of his word."
"Actually, we've only just arrived in town" Collins offers. "We heard that this was a good place to find out about a new and different way of doing things." She hopes that will satisfy Krako's curiosity, and he'll drop it and get back to talking about the kidnapping.
Krako's eyes narrow, and he sets down his drink. "But where are you from?"
Kylah nods at Mr. Graham and the others, then has a moment of doubt when she looks down at her outfit. Will men from an ancient Earth-based culture take a woman seriously? These gangs seem very patriarchal, and she does not recall hearing of any female members other than hangers-on. Should she act weak and subservient to Mr. Graham, to boost his power in their eyes? I am subservient and weak compared to him, she realizes with a flood of shame. What would her mother--much less Elaan--think of what she has become?
She refocuses on the present. If these strangers dismiss her as nonthreatening--certainly she is, physically--it could be advantageous.
With a deep breath she fluffs her hair behind her shoulders to tame the curls, and then, after putting her phaser back in hiding, walks through the kitchen toward the front hall.
Oh just great, Krako is a paranoid lieutenant type who is going to see problems with everything and be difficult to dissuade and get back on track. Rangin wishes he had spent more time researching this backwards hole of an outpost or paying attention to the briefing, but then he really didn't think he would be in this position.
"Westside, Fresco way." If this planet is like old Earth, there should be a San Francisco like place. At least, as the home to the Academy, the three of them could be convincing about the location, whether or not it existed.
Kylah sees the men with suits, Fedoras and machine guns still standing in the front hall. They all look at her. One tilts his hat back a little and whistles.
"Fresco, eh?" repeats Krako, with a glance at one of his subordinates. "What neighborhood?" He says to Garcia and Collins, "Are you from there, too?"
Collins is tempted to blurt out Haight-Ashbury, but instead she just nods and smiles.
Kylah looks the men over and is careful not to react to the whistle as she normally would. She also stifles the instinct to check to see if Mr. Graham is behind her--and to assure that he will not react as he normally would to such a man. No, he is too smart to offend them over a tiny thing. He is not the thug Velir believes him to be.
The casual thought of Mr. Rangin causes a pang of regret in her chest, making her lungs heavy when she takes her next breath. And she had done so well until now...
After swallowing back her feelings, she tries to give a pleasant smile to the group. She realizes she does not know which is the leader. Her gaze takes them all in.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Forgive my not having come out earlier," she begins, her voice quiet but not timid. There is no point in hiding her formal, Elasian style of speech; she could not approximate this culture's jargon or typical mannerisms with any believability, not without a longer period of study. Instead she plunges on and hopes these strangers might be curious about a woman who is not only un-Iotian, but not even from the planet they so admire.
"My superior did not wish me to come out before we knew your intentions. I am Kylah, and am pleased to make your acquaintance." Despite her dislike of handshakes, Kylah raises her bare arm gracefully toward the group; her hand's gesture is, in fact, regal enough that a more genteel person of this culture, or perhaps a slightly earlier one, would likely consider kissing it. "May I ask which of you is Mr. Kalo?"
Garcia, after seeing Collins's reaction, says, "Uh... yeah, me too."
The tallest of the gangsters in the front hall, a thin-faced man with dark hair (not the one who whistled), takes Kylah's hand and shakes it, lingering just a little too long before releasing it. "I'm Kalo. The pleasure's all mine, Miss Kylah."
Graham's not sure how Kyla h intended to play things: he would have been unsurprised if she claimed to be in charge--which would have been OK with him if it fit in with her game plan.
But given the wolf-whistle response, he gets why she takes a different approach.
He rolls with it, standing behind her looking large and in charge, as it were.
No sense in challenging the lecherous mook: I'm sure the culture is look but don't touch among the "made guys," he thinks.
All discomfort over the too-close-for-comfort handclasp is hidden by Kylah's gracious smile. It occurs to her that at some point walking from the kitchen to these men, she seems to have unconsciously morphed into her mother.
"Kalo," she repeats with a slight glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Do you know, there is a word in an Earth language, from the land of The Book, that is somewhat similar--'callow.' Yet it means naïve and inexperienced. Such words could never describe a man like yourself, not with the high position you hold."
Kylah lets her gently teasing, apologetic glance flicker over the other men, then back at the leader. "I beg your pardon for the digression, sir. I am a linguist, and my mind sometimes takes such fancies. But you are men of action and do not wish to waste time. This is serious business, and engaging in pleasant talk is not suitable..." While her words fade reluctantly, she blushes and shakes her head.
"Mr. Kalo, we are very worried about our five CAG colleagues. When they ceased their usual contact with their own bosses--" Kylah is fairly sure she has used the local term smoothly--"our ship was dispatched to determine what might have happened. Mr. Graham is a security expert, a powerful man much respected for his strength, intellect and strategic prowess. And I, simply because... well, like many of the missing, I specialize in culture and communication. Our bosses thought it best to have a small team so as to be unobtrusive. That also explains all this."
Kylah spreads her hands to display the dress, not coincidentally letting her fingers brush the material of her skirt slightly so it rustles upwards an inch. Then, innocently oblivious to the effect, she turns back to gesture to Mr. Graham--who, she is relieved to see, is indeed right behind her--and his own outfit. She hopes he does not think she is a fool.
Back to Kalo and the men. "At any rate, it would be disrespectful toward your culture to linger and disrupt you any more than we already have. Indeed, we have been ordered to head back to our ship very soon, after this initial search of our five missing colleagues' apartment. They wish to hear from us immediately, and in person. This is my first mission, you see," she improvises, lifting her chin as if pride will not let her apologize for her low rank. "And they need me to prove myself. I believe your Syndicate has similar tests for its members?"
Please play along, she prays. If they allow her to continue, it might confirm that they do not know about Lt. Morris. Or at least, that they do not wish her to know about him. Any correction and it might prove that they do indeed have useful knowledge. Either way, she just wants the chance to further the conversation and gain their trust.
"Interesting," Krako says, turning from Collins and Garcia and looking back at Rangin. "So again... what neighborhood?"
Kalo smiles a little uncertainly and says to Kylah, "Sure, whatever, lady. I just want to take you all to meet the President first. Mr. Graham had agreed, I thought."
Rangin looks back at the other two and shakes his head slightly, all the while looking round at the man Krako had glanced at before looking back at the man himself. Given that this is the second in command of the entire planet, Rangin begins to feel a little nervous, after all if he crews up here, who knows how much damage it could cause to interplanetary relations. Rangin is really beginning to dislike Captain Singh for putting him in this situation, let alone being in charge...and the next time Rangin has a bright idea, he'll probably get Collins to slip the sense out of him. It'll probably do less damage that way. And then both Kylah and Graham would get to have a good laugh at his expense, yeah, this is not all its cracked up to be.
"If you don't mind me saying sir, I think they are a little overawed by the situation," Rangin says truthfully, "I'll admit, I was just looking to lend a hand, get to know a few people, and not just have the opportunity to meet someone of your stature. As for where I'm out of, it's 'Lito, not Fresco." Rangin wonders if the others will get the reference. He resists the urge to ask what he can do to help or ask any other questions, because Krako would likely take offence at having to answer.
"You said Fresco before," Krako says dismissively, "and your buddies agreed with you. But I never heard of Fresco, and I sure as hell never heard of Lito." He smiles, his face a mask. "Fact is, I don't think you're from anywhere around here... not even from this planet, I'm bettin'." He jerks a thumb and says to his mooks, "Search 'em."
At once, his henchmen - two by the door, and four ranged around the walls - draw small handguns from behind their backs. "Get up and raise your hands," the one named Veek says, walking towards Rangin.
"Mr. Graham may have agreed," Kylah says, uncertain whether this is true; she does not think Graham told them he has already accepted. "But during your conversation, our captain contacted me and ordered us to return once the search was complete and we had finished speaking with you.
"Unfortunately," Kylah goes on hurriedly, "I will have to report that we found nothing here. And my boss will not be pleased." She exhales in consternation and lowers her voice. "If you rose through the ranks yourself, you must know what prestige one can gain if one completes a task successfully. All this said, your offer to take us to your leader is an extraordinary opportunity, one that changes everything. After all, our colleagues were, I believe, on amicable terms with you and the President, were they not?"
Clasping her hands together, Kylah leans forward, eyes shining in excitement. "Please, sir... is there anything you might tell us about the group's disappearance that I could bring to my superiors? Even just how you learned about it? If we have something to show for our efforts thus far, it would raise my bosses' confidence, which means they would certainly allow us to return. In fact, such added information might let us accept your invitation at once. ...If our captain feels that we have turned up something useful."
Kylah turns quickly to include her colleague behind her with a darting examination that mutely seeks approval for her tactic. Finally, she swivels again to share a hopeful, expectant gaze with the men, particularly Kalo.
Collins surreptitiously reaches for her phaser. Her plan is to grab it unseen, and stun Veek and the other mooks before they have a chance to aim their weapons.
Kalo says, "That's all stuff the b-- the President is gonna want to talk with all of you about." He says directly to Graham, "So are we ready? Let's go. Tick tock."
One of the mooks notices Collins's movement, and points his gun directly at her. "Don't even think about it, honey," he says.
Collins releases her phaser and shows her hands to be empty. She maintains an expressionless face.
"I am standing," responds Rangin to Veek, as he has been throughout the conversation, "I know I'm short, but please..." He doesn't bother responding to Krako, who obviously knew well in advance of this given that Rangin hadn't said he was from Fresco, just that area, and that Krako was just playing along to see what they were going to say.
The fact Krako is second in command, just makes matters worse as he is probably far more valuable to the Federation than the three of them. Of course, this particular scenario is precisely why he wanted Garcia nowhere near them, to be able to call for backup. Rangin sighs inwardly, it looks like they had been spotted a mile off.
At Collins movement and the call from the other mook, Rangin looks round slightly. "Take it easy," he calls out to the other two before turning back to Veek, slowly and carefully opening the front of his jacket and then raising his hands. The phaser and communicator may not show in the line of the suit, but they are going to be found by a decent shakedown.
Rangin starts to get a familiar, sinking feeling on the matter of dealing with mobsters.
"It's your call if you don't want to take one 'tick' to do a lady who might be grateful at looking good in front of our boss a little favor," Graham replies. He shrugs slightlt. "I thought it might be a win-win, so to speak."
He shakes his head slightly. "Not what I'd do in your shoes...all...things considered," he adds, making an hourglass-figure gesture with his hands. "Figure'd you'd have something to share given how johnny-on-the-spot you were spying on us entering the front door..." He shrugs again, glancing at Kylah and then back to Kalo. "But if that's the way you want it..."
Kylah, whose gaze remains on Kalo and thus cannot see her colleague, is nevertheless pleased by Mr. Graham's support. He seems better able to connect with these men than she is, given his casual tone, and so she simply maintains her hopeful and accommodating smile at the gangsters.
However, she did not miss the curious verbal hiccup from Kalo. She tries to fill in the blank regarding what he had been about to say, and comes up with two options--one of which gives a new spin to the dynamics within the organization. It seems prudent to bring up the president's name again, this time trying to corral her dim empathic abilities to see if she can notice anything unexpected in the second-in-command's emotional response.
As a test, she waits for Mr. Graham to finish and adds a quiet, "I truly would be very grateful if you would grant my request, Mr. Kalo. Unless you need to ask President Okmyx's permission, first?"
Rangin, Collins and Garcia are quickly and thoroughly searched, and their communicators, phaser-1s and Garcia's tricorder are taken and placed before Krako. He has a big, big smile. "Why didn't you say you were Feddies, I mean the real thing Feddies? I was hopin' you were. This is great!"
"Nah, I know what he wants," Kalo says. He gestures with his Tommy gun. "Let's go already. You gonna call the other two out, or should I?"
"Given a few of our colleagues have gone missing, I hope you can understand our caution in not being as open." Rangin replies politely watching over Krako to try and judge if good for him also means good for the three of them.