Star Trek RPG - Mission #3: "Some Other Side of Paradise"

Kylah saw no one in or outside of Wilson's suite.

Graham nods in sincere appreciation of T'Var's comments, and looks up at the sky as they set out. "Nice night," he says. Then he shakes his head as they walk and blows out a long breath. "Heh...maybe I should've bought old Lt. Palver something in the gift shop, though..."

Kylah gets a stitch in her side and pauses, bending down with her hand pressing down just beneath her ribs. She mulls over the accomplishment of gaining access to the suite so easily, and then thinks... why did she gain access so easily?

Trying to catch her breath, she lifts her communicator again. "Ky--Kylah to Graham," she says, wheezing a bit. She must be tired--such a brief jog should not tire her out so. "I was just in Wilson's suite--it has no guards around it. Should all entrances to the suite not be watched by our security, considering the safe and all of Wilson's possessions...?" After a pause for a deep breath, she straightens again. "I think we should protect all possible evidence. I know there is a lock but we have seen the criminal get around security measures before."

By the end of the sentence she feels she has gotten her wind back, and starts walking again. "Just a recommendation, sir." She looks in the not-too-far distance, wondering if she can see any of the others on their way to the research lab. And by "any" she means, of course, Velir. Preferably without Dobson by his side.

Disappointed by the lack of extra information his scans, Rangin turns to Dobson. "Right that's it for today, time to head for the research station."

Rangin quietly heads back out of the hotel and towards the station admiring the oncoming sunset.

Dobson matches Rangin's stride. They meet up with Graham and T'Var on the small hill between the resort and the Starfleet research station. Kylah is not far behind.

Rangin acknowledges the pair of them with a nod. "Ma'am. Mr Graham." as he falls in along side them. Any sign of Ens. Kylah and Lt. Delaney?"

He waits for an answer from the pair while absently pondering if he will be getting any results from the lab at the research station on all the data he sent back.

Noting that the group seems to have stopped short of the research station, Kylah frowns slightly in curiosity--why have they not continued to the entrance? Now that her stitch seems to have released its grip on her muscle, she again increases her pace to join the others. Meanwhile, she puts away her communicator, which has been silent since she made her recommendation. If Graham wants to reply to her idea, he can just talk to her.

She is struck by the fact that Delaney is not there. How is it possible that she beat him to the rendezvous point? Maybe he is already at the station. Kylah greets everyone with a silent nod, her gaze lingering on Velir only a second longer than the others before snapping back to face Graham.

Graham smiles slightly. Pointing with his thumb toward Kylah, he replies to Rangin. "Ah, she's right here." He shrugs. "But where's Delaney--is he already back at the station eating?"

He shakes his head. "Fine suggestion, Mr. Kylah, obviously somebody at this facility has been able to circumvent security systems at will." Graham contacts Mahmoud to ask for a guard to be posted watching Wilson's quarters. Then he asks Lt. Delaney for his location: "We're near the station, Lieutenant. Should we wait for you or have you beaten us there?"

Rangin smiles as Graham points out Kylah and gives her a nod and a warm smile as she turns up.

"I hope he's at the station," Rangin whispers quietly under his breath, "we could all do with getting back for as soon as possible."

Delaney comes over the hill at a fast walk and catches up with you. "Sorry," he says, a little out of breath. "Got kind of... distracted."

Kylah remembers that Lt. Palver, commanding officer of the research station, had programmed its main door earlier today to admit the members of the Yorktown's landing party. She presses her thumb to the keypad and the door whispers open. The small lobby is just as you remember it.

Kylah looks around to see if any of the lab staff members are nearby. As she does, she asks, "Mr. Graham, since our configuration has changed somewhat with Lt. Collins's unfortunate departure, perhaps you wish to reallocate our quarters? I do not recall how the men have been divided, but I would imagine the single room should go to either you, as our mission commander, or one of the ranking officers, such as Dr. T'Var." She looks at Dobson. "Crewman Dobson could share my room if Dr. T'Var receives the single."

The thought of Collins makes Kylah turn to T'Var. "If you plan on contacting the Yorktown to check on the Lieutenant, Doctor, I hope you will let her know that we are all wishing her the best."

Graham cocks an eyebrow at Delaney. "You didn't go get Fastolfe to sign your tricorder or anything like that now, Lieutenant?" he says jokingly.

"I'm currently sharing with Graham," states Rangin wondering if that situation would change. He was unsure whether Graham would decide to pull rank and claim a room for himself. At worst, Graham would not think as usual and just move himself into Collins' room leaving Rangin to share with Dobson. Rangin hoped Graham would, at least, listen to Kylah.

As Kylah mentions Collins name to Dr T'Var, Rangin murmurs quietly, "Agreed," while he waits for Graham to give his orders for the evening, Rangin was too tired at this point to start ignoring him now.

"I'm fine bunking wherever," Dobson says.

"Likewise," says Dr. T'Var.

A young woman in Science blue enters the lobby and introduces herself as Ens. Beth Robinson. "Lt. Palver asked me to check and see if you need anything from the station staff," she says pleasantly.

"Your call Mr Graham," Rangin chimes in before turning to the station Ensign. "Excuse me, I sent some readings back for analysis. They were being checked by Dr. Lucy Anderson. Would you happen to know if she has finished or where she might be..."

Rangin considers for a moment, "..though that may be after a bite to eat and possibly a shower, if possible. It's been a long day."

Graham blinks. Overall, he's appreciated Kylah's attention to detail, but at the moment his immediate reaction is who the hell give a shit where we sleep?

He briefly considers explaining the old Earth phrase "eyes on the prize" but thinks better of it, first because everyone is tired and secondly and more discouragingly because he worries he hasn't earned the credibility to do so... It also pops into his mind that in his younger days and in better circumstances he'd have jumped at the opening to plop himself and an attractive Vulcan woman in the same room...

Graham rubs his head. "Look, it's been a long day for everybody. Do what you need to do to be fresh at 0730 tomorrow morning--that means hitting the sack now if you need it, or having something to eat, or dancing a jig with whoever of the station staff wants to join you..." He pauses. "I know we need a spot for Dobson--thank you, Mr, Kylah. Doc, take Collins' room. And I'd appreciate it, actually, if you'd inquire after how she is and tell I--we're all--thinking of her. Dobson you're with Kylah. I'm going to..."

He stops and holds up his hands. "You're time is your own, with the objective being rested and ready to go tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, sir," Kylah says, a bit hesitantly, feeling a wave of annoyance from Graham. She pauses before saying anything else--she is afraid of inciting Graham's rancor--and instead turns to murmur to Rangin. "I will be glad to be off-duty, but do you think... do you think we should ask him about a briefing with the Yorktown? Will they not be expecting some final report for the day?"

Ens. Robinson smiles at Rangin. "Yes, Dr. Anderson asked me to give you this," she says, handing him a data tablet. The Coridan xenobiologist sees that Dr. Anderson's report indicates that the OC3 spore readings he gathered were consistent with earlier scans; there were no significant variances.

Delaney yawns. "I'm just gonna grab a quick sandwich and then hit the sack. I'm exhausted."

"Sounds like a plan," Dobson says. "I'll have some personal gear beamed down from the ship."

Dr. T'Var says, "A cup of tea and some meditation for me, I should think."

Graham sighs and thinks to himself if I were some sort of omnipotent being who controlled what happened in this universe, I'd give us a couple days off...

"Thank you very much", he says to Ens. Robinson before looking at the readings. Rangin scans over them and disappointedly nods his head at what he reads. "Oh well, another possibility gone."

"Shower, food and sleep then. I'll be in the mess hall in twenty, if anyone wants to join me." His eyes look up at Kylah waiting to see her reaction before looking across the rest of the group.

Since Velir is busy scanning the research findings and does not reply to her question, Kylah assumes he has not heard her. She is reluctant to repeat it; she doesn't want to be the person who spoils everyone's much-deserved rest period by talk of reporting back to Vargas. Let Vargas contact Graham himself and ask why there was no briefing, she thinks, a bit spitefully. Perhaps Singh will think twice before putting a security officer in charge of a mission again. They do not seem equipped for planning.

Velir's voice interrupts her sullen ruminations. She glances up at him and meets his gaze. "A meal after a shower... Yes, I think I will join you, Mr. Rangin. I--I mean--in the meal," she rushes to clarify, once her mind belatedly picks up the double entendre.

She gives him a fleeting smile before heading back to her room, preoccupied. If the evening is their own, as Graham says, Kylah knows she and Velir might finally have some peaceful, extended time together. Their brief picnic today was pleasant, but ended poorly upon her spying Jan. Tonight that will not be an issue--although she originally planned to talk about what happened with Jan, Kylah is not sure if that should be on the agenda after all. The truth might stop things before they start. Or am I just being a coward? she admits after holing up in the bathroom and taking a quick shower. It might not be fair to begin anything, if I must hide something to prevent its ending.

After drying herself, she dresses in a fresh uniform and looks at her reflection in the mirror, not pleased. She wishes she had more off-duty wear, but her blue dress is still in the locker back at WR&R, and the only other non-regulation outfit she has left is her nightgown--after destroying the black dress last night, that is, but then she would not wear it again even if it were possible. Kylah decides to leave her hair down instead of clipping some of it back, and applies a light dusting of powder to hide some of the darkness beneath her tired eyes.

The difference between her natural, faded look tonight and her would-be glamorous appearance for last night's dinner could not be starker. She wishes she could do more primping for Velir. And yet... He kissed my hand when I was in a dirty uniform, covered in with dried blood and bruises, and crying my eyes out, Kylah remembers. It may not matter that I look like a living ghost.

Rangin stops, and then hides the slow smile crossing his face with a hand as he scratches the side of his face. "I'll see in you in the mess hall shortly then," he replies before heading back to the room he is sharing with Graham arriving ahead of him. Rangin grabs the shower before Graham has a chance to pull rank on it, and quickly scrubs away the grime from the day. Feeling more refreshed, he wanders back in and looks in the direction at the linen suit still neatly packed away.

Much as he would like to wear it, Rangin shudders slightly, remembering the mistakes he made last night, the fool he made of himself by trying to interfere in something that was not his to do so. He throws on a spare uniform, straightens it out and heads for the mess hall.

Kylah is about to leave for the mess hall when her gaze falls on the computer terminal. Although the screen is blank, it reminds her of last night, when she read the message from Jan--and never answered it. For the past several hours she has been struggling with the possibility that Jan's investments in colonial bonds might be relevant to OCIII and WR&R; as unlikely as it may be, Kylah cannot ignore a possible lead. Especially since he was out last night--Velir had mentioned their horrible discussion at the nightclub.

Her face red, Kylah reluctantly forces herself to turn and sit down at the terminal. She quickly taps some keys before identifying herself to access her shipboard comm account. A few commands later, she is once again looking at Jan's message from last night.

My dear Kylah: I enjoyed our time together and was glad to get to know you a little better, but obviously you were upset when you left. I must have moved too fast for you - for us - and I apologize. Please let me know if you're all right now, and tell me if there's anything I can do to make it up to you. As I said earlier, I would hate to part on bad terms. Indeed, I think I would hate to part at all. I hope very much to hear back from you. With best wishes, JAN.

"Our time together." "I would hate to part at all." Kylah feels sickened again, despite Jan's courtly words and polite inquiry about her feelings. She swallows painfully and lets her trembling fingers hover over the keys before typing a response.

Jan: I am sorry I could not reply earlier. As you have no doubt heard by now, our mission changed significantly due to the tragic circumstances of the administrator's death. I have been continuously occupied with the investigation since only a few hours after I

Kylah feels another wave of nausea. "After she" what? After she acted like a drunken fool? Was too weak to free herself? Had sex with a complete stranger? Made a mistake that might haunt her forever?

She erases the last word and tries again.

I have been continuously occupied with the investigation since only a few hours after we parted. I am grateful for your concern and thank you for being so solicitous and kind. I was not expecting what happened and did not now how to react.

Kylah shuts her eyes for a moment. Such understatement and politeness make her stomach roil yet again. She forces herself to continue.

If you are still willing to meet again, and have some time available, might we see each other tomorrow? I do wish to talk to you. Tonight my colleagues and I are getting much-needed sleep, and so I cannot be in contact. Perhaps you can get in touch with me in the morning or afternoon. My schedule is very haphazard but we do have breaks. I believe the concierge might be able to connect your call to my communicator.

Thank you -- Kylah.

Kylah reads the message over quickly. It seems cordial enough. The note betrays none of her true motives to learn more about his investments, and most important, it is unlikely that he will see this as a romantic invitation of any kind. At least, I pray he will not misread my intentions...

Biting her lip, she sends the message without letting herself think further, then shuts down the terminal and practically flies from the room to the elevator and the mess hall.

In the mess hall, Rangin looks round at the view people there, but not seeing any of the team. He wanders up and picks up some warm food, something comforting, a bulwark against the day and something that will help him sleep later on.

Sitting at the table he waits for a little while, the food slowly steaming in front of him as he savours the smell, taking a little while to just unwind further. After a few moments, he is about to start eating when he sees Kylah enter the mess. As she looks round, he notices the uniform and the hair left curling to her shoulders and thinks that she looks better for it than having it clipped back. Although the fact they are both off-duty and both wearing a uniform leaves Rangin with a wry smile on his face.

Rangin puts the cutlery to one side, nods at her when she notices him, and waits for her to come across.

Having ordered some hearty meat and vegetable stew, along with two buttered rolls, Kylah turns and spots Rangin almost immediately. Her face brightens in response to his nod and, after looking around a bit self-consciously, she joins him at the table. She chose the dishes with care, since she cannot make any table manner gaffes; stew is eaten the same way on Elas as it is elsewhere, and rolls need no cutlery at all. The one difficulty will be tearing the bread into smaller pieces than she would prefer. She is ravenous.

She greets him with a smile, and eyes both of their trays. "Have you noticed that our best times together involve food?" she says, placing the napkin on her lap and adding casually, "My childhood nurse would approve. When it was announced that Cousin Elaan had been engaged to a man she had not met, Reena warned me that one must never marry a man with whom one has not dined at least three times. She would say, 'Sharing a table is as revealing as sharing a bed.' Of course I did not understand--" Kylah freezes in the act of lifting a bite of bread to her mouth. She is not sure which is a worse conversation topic with a man--sex or marriage. "That is to say--I have no wish to marry, I did not mean to imply..."

With a quick shake of her head, she starts over and looks intently at the butter melting on the soft bread. "I just... it is a pleasure to be alone with you again, Velir. You seem refreshed."

As Kylah sits down and starts, Rangin nods to her comment about the best times and starts on his food. He tucks into the meal in front of him while listening although the mouthfuls get slower and slower until she comments about sharing a bed at which point the raised fork is left in mid-air as he looks across, mouth half open at her comment. Rangin is unsure what to say next and the silence is broken when there is a small splash on his plate as the food finally slides off the fork and lands with a squelch.

He smiles and carefully impales the food back onto his fork before looking across again and shaking his head. "I don't feel refreshed, maybe after relaxing some more, maybe after a good night's sleep I will. However, being alone with you certainly helps. Would you mind if I said you look better with your hair down like that."

Kylah blinks in surprise at the compliment. "Of course I would not mind. Thank you. On Elas, our hairstyles are so elaborate... it is almost unthinkable to leave one's hair down, not even a braid or a jeweled clip..." Her shoulders lift in a tiny shrug. "It is a mark of how tired I am that I did not do anything to it. But if it pleases you..."

She hesitates and smiles, happy to gaze at him--at last, not a hidden, stolen glance, but an open stare of admiration. "You always look wonderful to me," she says frankly. "Ever since Starbase 27, whenever I walk into a room and find you there--even if you are focusing elsewhere and do not notice me--I feel..." Her brow furrows in thought, seeking the correct way to describe her emotions. "Like a boat that, after near wreckage by a storm, has finally found a safe harbor. There is peace in your eyes, Velir," she says softly. "A peace such as I have never seen in another."

After her words she is embarrassed--and fears she might have embarrassed him, as well. She eats some stew and then adds, as if addressing her spoon: "There is no one else from our crew here yet. Perhaps when we finish, we can walk somewhere they might not see? I do not wish to hide our...our friendship... I just wish to be with you, to talk. Would that be all right?"

"It shouldn't matter whether it pleases me, but you make all styles look good." Rangin looks back across at Kylah across from him, food half forgotten as he looks over her.

As she continues, he meets her gaze enjoying sound of her voice. He freezes slightly at the mention of peace and calm, then smiles again. "Does this include the time I was being attacked on that space station?"

At her suggestion, Rangin responds, "I agree, a walk together outside sounds like an excellent idea. Perhaps around the area of the station, I don't really feel like going near the resort." Rangin attacks the remainder of his meal, having something more special to look forward to.

As he finishes his meal, Rangin looks across at Kylah. "Shall I get some warm drinks to take with us? Hot chocolate?"

Kylah hardly knows what to do with Velir's flattery; it seems unlike him but she cannot help but enjoy it. She just shakes her head at his reference to their attack on the Sakathian research station--it is not something she can joke about much, not yet.

"I will always say yes to chocolate," she says after she not-very-delicately sops up the remaining stew with the last morsel of bread, then pops it in her mouth. While he goes she quickly does a thorough wiping of crumbs from her dress and uses her napkin to ensure no butter remains on her hands or face.

Once they head out of the mess hall with their drinks and take the lift down to the first floor, they continue to have good fortune in not seeing any of their colleagues. Kylah assumes they have used replicators for their meals. Or, clichéd as it might be, perhaps she only had eyes for Velir. And for the stew, she admits while walking by Velir's side into the cooler dusky evening. The meal really was surprisingly good for mess hall fare. Since she has been on a food deficit as well as a sleep deficit since skipping dinner yesterday, possibly anything would have tasted like ambrosia.

The silence--other than the station's various electric generators--surrounds them for some moments before Kylah speaks. "Velir, you mentioned the Sakathian station. I have been thinking how glad I am that I did not yet know you well. I cannot imagine how I would have survived for worrying. First when you were attacked by that slime devil--then the altered Sakathians in that room surrounding you, making you suffer..." She can still hear his scream as he was bitten. Shuddering, unconsciously she moves closer to him so their arms touch. After a moment her fear of being too close to a man subsides, and it feels natural to slip her hand through his elbow and clutch it protectively. "And the uncertainty of your illness. I could not have borne it. I do not like thinking of that mission, it still gives me nightmares. And yet..."

She looks up at him, his face a pale blue in the evening light. "That was the first time I saw the man you were. Are. You were the only one to stand up with me against the idea of cuffing Porr to his late wife. To argue with T'Var when she seemed unwilling to do anything for Fujishiro in the return shuttle."

Kylah lazily allows her head to fall briefly against his arm, enjoying its warm strength, before she straightens, realizing she is being too forward. "And do you know," she adds more lightly, "you were the only person I voluntarily told about my knives. I had to tell T'Var during my medical exam, and yesterday I--I was somewhat forced to show Graham how I could defend myself. But you... only with you did I feel comfortable enough to reveal their existence without fear. And you have never told anyone, have you." It is not a question, because she knows the answer already. She smiles and absently rubs his arm, stroking it for comfort and feeling the gentle support of his muscles. "Even though we had barely met, I felt how trustworthy you are."

Rangin cannot help but enjoy the walk with Kylah in the cool fresh evening air. Just two people out walking, taking time to enjoy each other's company. As Kylah slips her arm around his elbow, he feels grateful for her touch as she holds onto him and he slows just slightly to fall in step with her. He listens carefully while walking alongside and as she strokes his arm he reaches across and holds it for a moment.

"Trustworthy," Rangin repeats. "No, I haven't told anyone else, but I am possibly the last person you might want to call trustworthy. Or if I am, that sounds so very strange. I've spent so long not being trusted, being that one from Coridan, it can get wearing. Maybe times, or maybe I have changed more than I thought. But thank you for trusting me, I will endeavour not to break it." A slight tinge of sadness can be heard in Rangin's voice of past memories.

Rangin looks up at the stars, "Strange how life could have been so different if perhaps I had done something different here or there, but for now I'm walking on this beautiful planet alongside a beautiful woman who is happy to be here. I'll take it."

Graham was eager to at least wash his face and perhaps change clothes, but Rangin makes a beeline into the shower in their shared room.

What the hell, has he got a date? Graham thinks, shaking his head. He's not at all looking to get into an argument, and in any event he can't fully relax yet: he's waiting to hear from the Yorktown about the search warrants, and failing a response soon he ought to check in with Vargas and apprise him of the team's status.

He leave the room and wanders outside, looking for a quiet spot to perform some aikido katas.

The intensity levels of his routine increase as Rangin bogarting the shower for some reason brings back memories.

The guest-quarters hallway of the Starfleet research station is empty, and Graham is able to work on his katas there. Rangin is not long in the shower, and then Graham can make use of it. When the Security officer emerges and dresses, he checks his comm account and sees a message from Cmdr. Vargas asking for a summary of the investigation so far that day - written or verbal, his call.

Delaney is not long in the mess hall, grabbing a quick bite and then heading to bed. Dobson takes a little longer before turning in. T'Var goes to her quarters and will not be seen again until the morning.

The night passes without incident.

Kylah's lips part slightly and her eyes widen in astonishment when Velir speaks of himself so deprecatingly. She can hardly hear his lovely compliments through the immediate flood of protestations in her mind. As soon as he finishes she tightens her grip on his arm.

"Velir Rangin! Whether you are from Coridan or Vulcan or Earth, it does not matter--the person you are is remarkable! How can you not see that? Especially when compared to the others--the men and women around you, myself included? There is too much that is good about you to describe. You are forthright. Honorable. Compassionate. Sincere. You expect much of yourself, and of others--but you are forgiving, too. I hope," she adds softly, her gaze shifting away for a moment before returning to him.

"The truth is, you make me wish I were a better person. Someone who deserves you. Since I value your honesty I must match it with my own... and prove to you that I do find you trustworthy. I told you at lunch that I wished to tell you something, and that is true. But I realize that now, on this mission, is the wrong time and place for complete honesty." And also I am a coward, and do not want this night to end with you fearing me. Kylah swallows. "But I must tell you one thing. About last night."

They have stopped at the crest of the hill that lies between the resort and the station, and Kylah sets her untouched drink down and takes hold of Velir's hands. She glances toward the hotel, haunted. "I cannot explain everything yet. I just want you to know that... when I went to dinner with him, even when I went to his room, what happened--" Her voice breaks, hoarse with trepidation and shame. "That was not what I expected to happen. It is not what I wanted to happen. And...and it has never happened before--nor will it again, not that way, not with him. He meant nothing to me. Even as he--even while we were--" Tears sting her eyes and she shakes her head, reluctant to continue. "My heart was breaking because I could not prevent it, I could not stop myself from betraying you. Not that we had any understanding between us, but my actions still broke faith with my feelings for you. That is why it was so wrong, apart from how mortified I was..." Kylah takes a deep breath. "I do not know if you can understand. You would never have lost control as I did, would not have let yourself do something so abhorrent. The only reason I did..."

She cuts off and stares down at their entwined hands. "No. When we are back on the ship, I will explain more. I just wanted you to know that I have not wavered in my esteem of you, no matter how much my behavior makes it seem otherwise. I only ever wanted to be with you." Abruptly a thought occurs to her, an awful thought, and she blinks up at him. "But perhaps I presume too much. I just realized I have never asked you... Are--are you attached to anyone? It seems impossible that I should be able to find a man like you, unconnected to someone smart and lucky enough to see how special you are. The universe is not that generous."

Even as she says it, the truth of her words slams her heart against her ribs. Why has she assumed he would be alone?

Her sudden need for reassurance, her near-greed to know more about who Velir Rangin is, makes Kylah gaze beseechingly at him. "Please tell me about yourself, Velir. Anything. Tell me how you survived Coridan. Tell me how someone endured the bigotry against your people--bigotry that the Federation likes to believe does not exist, but you and I know better--how did you go through all that without becoming bitter, with your integrity still unspoiled? Tell me what you were like as a child, what you dream of now. But most of all, please tell me... is there someone else? Am I too late for us to be... together?"

Rangin smiles at Kylah’s kind words. “Enough,” he says quietly,” I have not always been like this. I have made my fair share of mistakes, impetuous, stupid and otherwise. I’m no role model to put on a plinth , not by a long shot.”

He sighs and disentangles his hands from hers. “The only thing I have ever tried to do is the right thing. But what on Coridan might be considered right, might not be considered the same elsewhere.” He pauses and steps back giving himself a little room.

“When I was younger, I was more a more active person in doing right, sometimes taking the law into my own hands. I thought I was doing right, but what started as just trying to do something against the corruption nearly turned into acting outside the rules of society. I…I was lucky, I only spent a few weeks in hospital because of it. A couple of my colleagues were never seen again, probably will never be found. Strangely enough, it was then I realised that more often than not, those who don’t play by the rules usually fear it being brought to everyone’s attention, when people have to act and do something, can’t hide the faces and minds from what is around them." Rangin looks across nervously,"Ah, never mind, its mostly ancient history." His eyes fall to the ground and then looks back up guiltily. "My colleagues and I used to go out to find the illegal Orion Mining operations on our planet. Very stupid, very naive and very dangerous. We just wanted to make Coridan a better place. We just didn't realise how far we were becoming like them in doing so."

He pauses remembering lost friends before continuing. "It’s also why, when I had the chance, I signed up to join Starfleet. A chance to make Coridan safer and better. I’m no less idealistic than I used to be, just in a different direction.”

“Even then, there have been several times that people have taken the wrong idea. For some reason, being from Coridan means people think I have access to everything illegal, whether I do or not. I was once even asked if I could get an Orion Slave girl once for a party, though it was more in the way of a joke than anything.” Rangin shakes his head. “Then there have been those who want something illicit and won’t take no for an answer. You know its strange, on the USS Lexington, I got on very well with Security when they realised that everyone who wanted that special something was coming to me first. And yet here, it’s totally different.”

He stops and looks up at the stars , something he used to do some many years ago with a woman he loved. “As for the question of is there someone else,” Rangin sighs deeply, as painful memories resurface, “There is no-one else at this time. There was once…a few years ago, someone…someone else, but it didn’t end well. We wanted different things from each other, things neither of us were prepared to give up. I think we have spent the last few years making sure we are in different sectors of the Alpha Quadrant. Probably for the best...”

He takes Kylah’s hand again and looks into her eyes hoping she will understand, “...and I don’t want to make the same mistakes again. I want to get it right this time and I want to get it right with you.”

Her hands feel so empty. That is the first thing Kylah thinks when Velir suddenly lets go of her. Next: I said too much. He is disgusted. I offended him. He is attached to someone after all...

But his soft voice continues, and tells her a tale of his background that sounds incomprehensible to her. Velir Rangin, outside the law? He seems to be implying he was almost a vigilante. Purposely seeking out illegal Orion mining operations...? She cannot believe his bravery. His madness! And injured, badly enough to be in a hospital for weeks. This is a man who swiftly recovered from a slime devil attack and vicious bites from mindless, poisonous creatures risen from the dead. Her anger flares at the injustice. Who hurt you?

Then he speaks of Starfleet officers, the so-called finest cream of the Federation, assuming he would deal in illicit activities without a flinch, merely because of his planet. When he specifically left to escape corruption. Again Kylah wonders indignantly: Who would hurt you?

Someone else... There was someone else. Kylah hears the timbre of his voice, the wistfulness. Understandable. After all, this is someone who is gone from his life, and it is 'probably for the best,' he says.

But only probably. What if this person were not on the opposite side of the Alpha Quadrant? What then?

Kylah has never been as tempted, sorely, desperately tempted, to search Velir's mind for what he is feeling. She is so distracted by the sudden need to exert every ounce of will power she possesses--especially when he takes her hand, for it would be all too easy now, the connection, the bond, a line directly from her soul to his--that she almost misses his words to her.

When they sink in, she inhales, still struggling to block herself from stealing his emotions. "Velir..." she whispers--barely more than her lips forming his name. "Truly?"

Velir's hand, holding hers, rises until he can kiss her fingers lightly. "Truly," is all he says. They stand there for some time--Kylah has no idea how long because she is lost in the depths of his gaze, eyes blue-gray in the moonlight rather than their usual hazel. Then he takes a tiny step closer to her, his chest now against hers. He must be able to feel her thrumming heartbeat, it seems like a dove trying to fly outside a cage. She does not move away. Velir's free left hand lifts up to brush her hair from her temple, grazing her cheek, then cupping her chin... so delicately. He holds her as if she is some rare piece of porcelain, something liable to shatter if one is not careful. And perhaps she is.

He moves even closer, his hand guides her face to his, and Velir Rangin is kissing her. Velir. Kissing her. Kylah's eyes remain open in shock, even though of course she was expecting it, but she has to make certain this is truly Velir. Of course it is. She is a fool. Who else would it be? Her mind re-engages, emerging from its strangely distant phase, and her mouth relaxes, kisses him back, very tentatively at first. But he is so warm and gentle and strong. Her own hand takes hold of his elbow as the single kiss turns slightly deeper. She sighs nearly inaudibly in pleasure.

Now he ends the kiss and rests his cheek against hers, embracing her. She can feel him smiling. Only now does she notice that he has been bending slightly to reach her. Not bending much, though. Their heights are not so different. Jan was taller; tall enough that Kylah had to tiptoe to wrap her arms around him, and when he kissed her he nearly lifted her from the ground, taking control. So different from now, yet the night was identical in many ways. Same indigo sky, same stars, same light breeze. Jan's mouth was much more insistent, however, as was hers. And still those kisses were not nearly as insistent or overwhelming as they would be in his room, on his bed--

Kylah jerks slightly backward, her body suddenly tense. Velir is still there, but he steps away almost immediately. "I... are you all right, Kylah? I didn't--"

"Yes, yes, I am fine. It was wonderful. You are wonderful," she reassures him. Her smile is tender and her eyes bright. She can hide and find shelter in the very real joy she felt only seconds ago. "We had better get back. Anyone could walk along this path. And there are cameras..."

"Cameras. Of course," Velir says with a slightly forced chuckle and wary eyes. "Er... yes, we should go."

They pick up their drinks, cold now, and walk slowly and in total silence back to the station. Only when they're at the elevator do they speak again--and it is simultaneous. They laugh a bit and Velir gestures at Kylah to go first. "I just wanted to thank you for a lovely night, Velir. For listening. For telling me all you did. For everything."

He smiles, so sweetly. This would be the perfect time for another kiss. But it is not the place, and Kylah is not yet ready. She is just... not ready. At some point they seem to have both realized it prudent to take separate elevators, and Velir lets Kylah ride up first. Kylah touches her lips and a flash of a thought occurs to her, a repeat of her earlier question, but this time she is not entirely certain whom she is addressing:

Who hurt you?

Kylah finds a message from Jan waiting in her comm account: Good to hear from you again! It'd be even better to see you again. Lunch or dinner? Coffee? Just say the word. I was worried about you, but I understand you've gotten quite a bit busier today. JAN.

The words on the screen look ugly and stark despite their cheerful message. Kylah wishes she had not checked her account. But of course that would not have been professional; if she hadn't looked, no doubt Thalen would have sent her something urgent she would regret not having seen. She sits and closes her eyes while typing.

I am sorry, Jan. I did not mean to worry you. May I contact you tomorrow once I see what my schedule is like? I would say lunch is most likely, but things have been so chaotic that I would hate to make a plan only to break it at the last minute. I will try to reach you when I am more certain. Thank you for understanding.

She sends the message and moves as quickly as she can to wash and get ready for bed. Shifting her mind from Velir to Jan is a wrench, and a black cloud has shrouded over an otherwise beautiful night--but she knows this cloud will remain above her until she is off this planet.

Hopefully it will not follow her on board the Yorktown.

Rangin dawdles a little while to give Kylah some space before heading up and quietly entering the room he shares with Graham.

Unsure if Graham is asleep or not, he quietly changes and climbs into bed. He lies there contemplating what just happened. A beautiful night, a beautiful planet, an Elasian princess...of such things dreams are made of. He smiles as tiredness overtakes him and Rangin slips into dreamless sleep.

Graham's grateful on returning to his room that it is empty. Before turning in, he files a status report with the Yorktown. He bullet points out the team's major activities of the day, and then makes his personal notes:

I made the decision to stop our work and give the team some time to regroup and refresh this evening, which I believe was warranted in light of the early start and the unexpected and traumatic loss of Lt. Collins mid-mission. Fastolfe remains a prima facie arguable suspect, but I increasingly feel this must have been an inside job. I have only a nagging feeling at this time about this, but am disturbed that Vice-Admiral Harding or Lt. Cmdr. Ebling may not have been 100% forthcoming about their interactions with Wilson or WR&R yet.

He's well on his way to falling asleep when he hears Rangin enter: the Coridanite says nothing and seems to be deliberately attempting to silently slip into bed himself, for which Graham is grateful. He's asleep before he hears his roommate finish changing.

The hours pass, and the exhausted Yorktown landing party members all get a good night's sleep.

Graham awakens in the morning, bright-eyed and refreshed, to find two messages in his comm account, both from First Officer Vargas: one acknowledging and thanking him for his investigation update, and the other informing him that overnight, a judge of the Federation District Court on Gyller IV approved, by subspace, the search warrant applications for the persons and possessions of Lord Fastolfe, his entourage and his guest house, but not his ship in orbit. The warrants are attached. Graham knows that, under Federation law, virtual but not hard copies must be provided to any person subject to a search warrant.

Kylah has a message awaiting her, as well: Understood, and thanks, my dear Kylah. I'll wait to hear from you. With very best wishes, JAN.

It is now 0728.

Determined to ignore this message and its far-too-intimate-for-her-liking tone, Kylah showers and dresses and, during all this, mulls over the plans for today involving Mr. Hsu.

Only when she's brushing her hair does she let her mind settle on what was--for all intents and purposes--her first real date with Velir. Or anyone else, for that matter; she chooses to consider the events with Jan as only a grotesque parody of a date. She smiles at memories of the kiss, trying to concentrate only on that first electric moment when Velir's lips touched hers, rather than the unfortunate intrusion of less pleasant romantic overtures from the previous night. But she does wish, oh, so very deeply, that Velir had been the first man to kiss her, the first man she kissed. She can pretend what happened with Jan was not real, as it was mainly due to the side-effects of the spores and her own empathic reflection of Jan's desire for her. But the history of her life is already permanently written, and unfortunately, the fact remains that her first sexual encounter, from tame kiss to much, much more, can never occur again.

It does not matter, she lies to herself, and again forces herself to remember only Velir Rangin. She looks in the mirror when she puts her brush down. considers not braiding or clipping the front of her hair away from her face, remembering Velir's compliment, but then decides: no; she will wear her hair down when they spend time together as more than colleagues. More than colleagues, she thinks with a secret warm smile. Yes, they are that, now. And slightly more than friends.

The brief snatches of his history on Coridan--and the unnamed person, presumably female, who meant so much to him--roll through her mind. With difficulty, she banishes speculation on his past love life and focuses on those dangerous, self-imposed missions to clean up at least some measure of the corruption on his home planet.

An entirely different and rather shocking side to Velir. What must he have suffered? He said little but what he'd related was more than enough. He is so private, controlled, that if he revealed even this much to her, Kylah is certain there are more painful events in his past still unexpressed. She scowls as she sits on her bed to tug on her boots. All Kylah knows is that if Booker Graham ever again implies Velir is some inexperienced, spineless, laboratory-bound naïf, she might very well use her remaining knife on the human.

Dobson is just stretching and yawning in the other bed. Kylah returns her mumbled "Good morning" and steps out into the hall, almost bumping into Dr. T'Var. After greeting her, Kylah says, "I did not get a chance to ask you, doctor. Without breaking any confidence... how is Lt. Collins?"

Rangin wakes feeling refreshed, more so than he has done for a while, perhaps even since the mission on the Sakathian station. From the bathroom he can hear that Ens. Graham has already got up and he takes the opportunity to relax for a few minutes, and enjoy the thoughts from last night. He sighs, there were still some unanswered questions, over what happened between Kylah and Jan. Rangin knows what had happened, but Kylah seems to be holding something else back. When she was ready, she might tell him but they were her secrets and she undoubtedly has her own reasons. It's not like he didn't have some of his own secrets either.

As Graham emerges, Rangin greets him with a jaunty, "Good Morning Mr. Graham, how are you?" before disappearing into the bathroom to wash. Once he finishes he dresses in his uniform and heads for the mess hall, looking forward to today being better than yesterday. At least today he can start with coffee and a proper cooked breakfast.

From then on, it was up to Graham to decide what he wanted the rest of them to do, although Rangin wants to have a chat to Dr Halsey and find out just what the results of the tests were...and then spend some more time with Kylah. Yes, wrapping this case up quickly would definitely be worth it.

Graham just mumbles as Rangin bounds by him. He smiles slightly and shakes his head as he leaves the room. Can't fault him for lack of enthusiasm, Graham thinks.

He decides to walk to the CP, stopping by the resort main desk on his way. While on his way, he sends a message to the team asking them to meet at the CP at 0800.*

He then checks in with first the Security officers guarding the Admiral and Ebling for a status report, and then the other Security officers on duty as well.



* or 30 minutes after he sends the message, his intent is to give folks time to shower, eat, meditate, etc

Dr. T'Var smiles slightly and says to Kylah, "I have just checked with Dr. Villa. Mr. Collins is doing better and should be released from Sickbay in the next day or two. I expect she will make a full recovery. Would you like to join me for breakfast?"

Ens. Mahmoud reports to Graham in the CP. "Things were quiet overnight. Vice Adm. Hardin went out for dinner with Lt. Cmdr. Ebling and then both turned in early, to their respective quarters. Lord Fastfolfe and several of his entourage also went out to dinner and spent a few hours in the nightclub, but returned to their house by 0100. They haven't gone back out yet this morning. The other Security officers report nothing out of the ordinary." He yawns. "With your permission, sir, I'll return to the ship with the others of my team who were up overnight, and arrange for replacements to beam down."

Graham tsks. "I remember back when you'd pull a double and eat a combat mission for dessert...you must be getting old, mister," Graham says. "But permission granted. A round on me for the whole shore-side team when we get some downtime. Uh, at a venue cheaper than this one."

"I am glad to hear of that, Doctor," Kylah says, although she suspects that T'Var is greatly underestimating human recovery times from such a loss. Lt. Collins may rebound quickly from her physical injuries, but not her emotional ones. Then again, Kylah knows so little about the other woman, and frankly it never seemed that Collins truly wanted a child--or indeed any close connection to another living being. But that was before the choice was taken from her, she thinks, sobered and guilty by the reminder.

She nods to T'Var's invitation to breakfast, since she was heading down there anyway. Kylah knows opportunities to be alone with Velir will be few and far between, and likely nonexistent as long as they keep the relationship...or whatever this is developing into... private. And it must be private. Kylah has no desire for anyone to speculate about her, or for Velir to be mocked for having fallen under the spell of 'one of those Elasian voodoo love curses,' as some of the cadets at the Academy used to say.

Nevertheless she looks forward to a quick breakfast--and considering the message she just received from Graham, it will have to be very quick, consisting of an energy bar at most. She wonders if there have been any developments during the night.

Mahmoud nods with a weary smile and leaves to collect the other overnight Yorktown personnel.

Kylah and the Vulcan doctor have a quick bite in the Starfleet research station's mess hall before walking over the hill, back to the resort and the murder investigation's command post.

Rangin only notices Kylah and Dr T'var having some breakfast as they leave the mess hall. Being engrossed in a datapad full of details of the spores, he chides himself for not spotting them sooner and downs the rest of his coffee noticing the time and realising that if he doesn't hurry up he will be late. It would not be a good start to the morning to give Graham any reasons to be...well...Graham-like.

As he leaves the station he sees the pair of them in front of him and Rangin quickens his pace to catch up and by the front entrance he is alongside them.

"Good Morning, Ma'am, Ensign Kylah. How are you both?" he greets them politely.

Out of deference to her superior officer, Kylah will wait until after T'Var responds. Then, though she tries not to smile, she lets her gaze turn warm and appreciative as it falls on Velir's face. "I am well, thank you, Mr. Rangin. My night was very pleasant and restful. I feel quite rejuvenated. And you?"

Small talk probably is not Graham's forte, and once she has heard from Rangin, she goes to sit down close to the middle of the table in front of the terminal she has used most often. "I hope you had a good night, sir," she says to him in a not-unfriendly tone, but not a warm one, either. "I also hope there have been no worrisome developments overnight."

Graham's surprised Kylah voluntarily speaks with him at this point. He clears his throat. "Search warrant for our buddy Fastolfe approved, although not his ship. Security on duty overnight had nothing significant to report." He pauses. "Ah, and, yes, I feel a little more rested, I hope you...had a good night as well." He shrugs and gestures. "Mr. Rangin certainly seems rejuvenated this morning."

"I feel quite well, thank you," Dr. T'Var says.

Delaney and Dobson soon arrive in the CP. Both seem chipper and ready to go. Delaney reports, "Still haven't cracked the code to Wilson's secret safe, but I think the cryptographic program is on the home stretch. Shouldn't be long now."

It is now 0817.

Disappointed that no search warrant seems forthcoming on Lord Fastolfe's ship, Kylah tries to think of a way around this when Graham asks if she had a good night, then suddenly points out Velir's bright mood. Her cheeks turn warm and pink, and she curses her inability to control her blood vessels. It is ridiculous to feel so self-conscious. Unless the man somehow has access to security cameras--Surely even he would not be so intrusive!--he cannot know about her and Velir's romantic walk. Velir Rangin would not confide in Booker Graham in a million years.

She busies herself by logging into the terminal. "Getting some sleep at last has undoubtedly helped all of us," she says calmly and with a cool air of distance. "That is good news about the warrants, although I wish they were not necessary. Fastolfe is working against his own best interests. If I had done a better job at pacifying his ego, perhaps he would have allowed us on board his 'chariot' himself."

"I forgot, sir," Kylah adds when thinking about the security cameras reminds her of yesterday afternoon, "that I was unable to give you a report yesterday on my activities regarding the Hsu plan. While I was alone, if anyone happened to see me in person or via the cameras, I would have appeared like someone trying to be cautious and unobtrusive when I went to Wilson's suite. Once there, I successfully transferred Mrs. Hsu's voice messages to my own communicator. The originals have been soft-deleted from Wilson's mailbox and both encrypted and hidden in a completely unrelated document elsewhere in his file structure. They will be easily retrievable using my password, with no indication that they were removed at all--thus there will be no evidence of tampering. I will send the password to you now, in the event Hsu runs mad and murders me." Her lips twist in a crooked smile; the security chief seems staggeringly unlikely to be any danger.

With a few keystrokes she sends the password, shareenah2247KotHSWT, to Graham's account.

"Mr Graham, is there anything in particular you would like the team to concentrate on other than Lord Fastolfe? I was thinking of going to see Dr Halsey to find out how his tests ran yesterday evening." Rangin decides that it is a new day, perhaps after sleep everyone will be in a good mood.

Kylah turns her attention to scrolling through her transcript of Wilson's messages. She has the strangest feeling that she might have missed something significant. And then she remembers: there was a message at 23:03 that she had intended to check, but for some reason--probably the shock of seeing the confirmation of a personal relationship between Mrs. Hsu and Wilson--she seems to have ignored it entirely.

It is probably nothing but Kylah does think she must take note of the very last message Wilson received, especially since it was not that long before he left his quarters again for his ill-fated trip to the conference room. She scrolls down to read the transcript.



Links included to show I'm not crazy, a la the debate whether Wilson did indeed mention that the inhabitant of the yellow house was female or not! :D

Graham's about to reply to Kylah that she did more than enough as far as he was concerned and whatever went down from this point was on Fastolfe, but thinks better of inviting a debate among the team that if history was any guide might turn into an argument. Likewise when Rangin asks for focii, "let's not screw anything up or kill each other pops into his mind," but he decides that a joke might fall flat yet again.

"Well, we've got legal authority to go haul Fastolfe and his minions out of their beds bright and early while we search their house...but I don't see any need to unnecessarily aggravate the guy at this point." He shrugs. "Maybe he'll come around and be more cooperative, as you say, Ensign, it's in his interest... I'd like to hear points of view...I'll lay mine out: whether or not Halsey's a killer, there's something weird about him, and figuring out why the hell the spores wore off seems important if that's where you want to focus, Mr. Rangin. We do need to take a run at Mr. Hsu as Mr. Kylah recommended. Lt. Delaney, I'd be tickled pink if you cracked the safe this morning..." He shakes his head. "And I still feel like Ebling or maybe the Admiral too might have had some dealings with Wilson they didn't fully come clean on...I mean, is there something afoot about the future of the planet or investment in resorts or colony? I don't know and don't want to go back at them until we have something tangible. So...I'm thinking Fastolfe not now but before lunch unless anything changes...table Ebling and the Admiral until we discover something. Thoughts?"

Kylah's intent focus on the screen wavers when she hears her name mentioned. Listening to Graham, she nods distractedly. "That sounds reasonable, sir. Regarding the Admiral... I have thought the timing of this vacation for the Admiral and Lt. Ebling odd since the start, coinciding as it does with the contract renewal decision," she murmurs. She is not exactly intending to have her words sound like an 'I told you so,' but neither is she particularly upset if they do. "Admiral Hardin may not have a deciding vote on the matter, but a Comptroller most certainly has influence. And possibly so does his closest assistant. Frankly I cannot tell which is more suspicious--that the Admiral's spore treatment wore off along with most of the other guests that day, or that Ebling's is the only one whose didn't."

Looking down at the computer keyboard, she has another thought; a dim memory of some of the information everyone shared regarding their individual investigations yesterday. "Sir," she says with a slight frown. "There is something... some inconsistency that is bothering me. I cannot quite..." Kylah's head suddenly pops up, and she is almost squinting as she eyes Rangin. "Mr. Rangin, am I wrong, or did you not mention that when you and Lt. Collins checked Mr. Wilson's office, you learned that his computer was last accessed early in the morning, hours before we even got here? And yet Collins indicated during our later meeting that Mr. Wilson had contacted her some hours before he died, having transmitted the financial records and guest communications she had requested upon our arrival. If he did not use his own computer for that purpose, what terminal did he use?

"For that matter, there were many other inconsistencies in his office and suite. DNA from two other people around his bed. Information on datapads that was more than four days old. Correspondence no later than three weeks ago. Why was everything so outdated? Or.. is it possible that information was removed, that the office computer had its records tampered with?"

She divides her attention between Velir and Graham. "You two spent the most time with Lt. Collins before her... before she was taken ill. Do you know if she ever did take a look at the financial records and guest communications that Mr. Wilson sent her?"

Kylah sees that the message which Wilson sent at 2303 was to himself: Check on backup H. file - keep w/ secure docs.

Delaney says to Graham, "Yes, sir. That's my priority."

Dr. T'Var says, "I believe it was the computer in Wilson's suite that was last used yesterday morning. He used his office computer later in the day."

"That sounds right," Delaney says, nodding. "And I don't think that Mr. Collins ever did look at the financials and guest communications. We have access to it all here, though."

Kylah's eyebrow rises as she reads the message. Before she comments on it, she thanks T'Var and Delaney for the clarification. "I did not realize there were two separate computers," she adds. "I do not recall--have both of them been equally examined forensically?"

"If I may make a suggestion, Mr. Graham, the financials and other data that Mr. Wilson made available to us should be analyzed. I will be glad to look over the guest communications, but I am no financial expert by any means--although if you wish me to take this on, I will. But perhaps there are better people for that task up on the Yorktown? Of course, if Mr. Wilson had some questionable financial dealings, I doubt he would have sent them to Lt. Collins. I wonder if a comparison between any fiscal records on his private computer and this would tell the whole story?"

Kylah hesitates before adding: "And sir... I ignored something extremely important yesterday, on Wilson's communicator. There was a message he sent to himself at 2303--not long before he died. I know I intended to look at it, but for some reason..." She shakes her head irritably at herself, especially as her mind turns trying to translate the message's meaning. "The note says 'check on backup H. file, keep with secure docs.' H file... Halsey? Hardin? Hwuen? Or Hsu? Whatever it might be, it seems quite possible that he knew he was having a meeting with someone, and wanted to ensure the file related to him or her was protected. Where are these secure documents?"

She swallows, her lips tight with self-recrimination. "I am very sorry that I did not catch this yesterday, sir."

"The terminal in his suite has been gone over thoroughly, I don't know if anyone has looked at his office yet. Or for that matter any of the papers or the terminal in there." Rangin thinks for a moment, "Perhaps the secure documents are those contained in his safe that we have yet to get in to."

Rangin looks back across at Graham, "Do you want me to check the office out after I speak to Dr Halsey."

Graham frowns. "Don't beat yourself up, Mr. Kylah." He nods, "Yes, thank you Mr. Rangin, please do."

Delaney says, "I thought we'd already checked his office? Mrs. Hsu was there. Mr. Rangin even looked at the discarded papers in the wastebin, didn't he?"

"Thank you, Mr. Graham," Kylah says absently at Graham's consoling words, her mind still mulling over the message. She hears everything as if it's from a long distance away. But Delaney's words catch her up. "If Mrs. Hsu was there when you searched his office, and Mr. Hsu was there when you searched his suite, I would recommend a thorough vetting of both computers when neither of them are watching over us. If there are secure files we need to find them. As I recall the debriefing after those searches and the description of how Mr. Wilson's computer was searched, it doesn't sound as if there was much time for ferreting out any details--in fact if my memory is correct, none of the WR&R records were looked into. Please do not take that as an insult, Velir, you know I would not..." Kylah begins, the apology automatic but fading when she realizes she has addressed him so informally. Well, what of it, we are allowed to be friends, she thinks, flushing anyway as she looks back at her own terminal and hastens to go on.

"If there is a backup of those secure files in the safe--an assumption, admittedly--then the originals are clearly elsewhere. Since the safe is currently unavailable to us, the computers and Mr. Wilson's communicator demand a more thorough scan, possibly with someone Lt. Thalen recommends as a decrypting specialist. As for the safe itself, have we even excavated it yet? I know Mrs. Hsu did not want us to harm anything, but needs must.

"Speaking of wives... Mr. Graham, did you ever hear back from Mrs. Wilson? Perhaps she knows where Wilson keeps his private documents. And there are also the background checks on Mr. Wilson's college friends..." Kylah shakes her head at the enormity of what they must accomplish. A man's whole life must be unraveled in the space of a few days. It seems impossible. She turns to the doctor, hoping the older woman's logic will provide a method of organizing so many facts and details. "What are your thoughts, Dr. T'Var?"

"No Sir, all those papers came from Mr Wilson's office in his suite, which Lt. Collins and I went to after we had started with the security tapes. Mr Hsu accompanied us after we had looked at them to give us access to the suite." Rangin frowns during his response to Lt. Delaney. "Although I don't think, if he was going to have anything too important. it would be on his office computer."

"Don't worry Kylah, I'm not a total expert on computers, unlike some others here" he nods back across to her.

The search of Wilson's main office (as opposed to his home office) is in posts 1495-1553.

Graham has still not heard back from Wilson's widow; there was no message in his comm account when he awoke this morning.

Dr. T'Var says, "We ought to execute the search warrants on Lord Fastolfe and his hangers-on sooner rather than later, I think. A more thorough examination of Mr. Wilson's computer records may indeed be useful. I know of no decryption specialist aboard the Yorktown, but perhaps Mr. Thalen can suggest someone."

Kylah nods in response to Dr. T'Var's comment and calls up to her superior officer. "Kylah to Lt. Thalen. Good morning, sir. We have need of some assistance in locating some of the late Mr. Wilson's documents, which we know have been stored securely somewhere. There are two computers and, if I recall correctly, a few locked-down datapads that must be thoroughly searched, but we lack the manpower to do so; I am needed for interviews and--and other tasks, or I would of course take on this responsibility myself. Are there any available crew members with expertise in decryption and information retrieval whom you could send down? Or perhaps we can link the local terminals to the Yorktown's decryption program, if such remote access is possible." That seemed to work well for his communicator, she thinks hopefully.

"Well I won't be much use for that, so I may as well make a start for the infirmary." Rangin rises to his feet. "Two things, any other questions I should ask of Dr Halsey and who is partnering?" he aims more in Graham's direction than anyone else.

Graham shakes his head. "No word from the widow."

He steeples his hands in front of his mouth for a moment. "All right." He pauses an looks in turn at the other members of the crew around the table. "All right. We get some eggheads Thalen assigns on the financial deets. And Lt. Delaney--please keep at the safe, request any additional support you need. Rangin, T'Var--you're together, and do whatever you need to get at what's going on with Halsey and the spores. Dobson, Kylah--you're with me, along with a complement of Security officers. We're going to give Fastolfe the chance to work with us and help us figuring out what if anything is going on with the Hsu's, or we'll serve the warrant and give him something to think about."

He exhales a breath. "I'm sure some of you think I'm losing my cool or losing my temper...but the point is: let's try go generate some momentum and put whoever the bad guy's are off balance. Bottom line, I'm skeptical about Halsey. I'd prefer Fastolfe work with us. I'm concerned about the Hsus. So let's take action and crack something open."

While Kylah is waiting to hear back from Thalen--and hoping that she managed to cover up her communicator fast enough to avoid her superior officer overhearing Graham's reference to 'eggheads'--she listens to Graham's orders. His comment about Fastolfe helping them strikes her as unusual.

Depending on how Thalen responds to her, she will convey the info to Graham, and will add: "I understand my orders, sir. But if I may ask... perhaps I missed a nuance. Why--or maybe I should say how would Lord Fastolfe help us figure out whatever is going on with the Hsus? Have you discovered a connection between him and the couple?"

Lt. Thalen tells Kylah from the Yorktown, "Lt. JG Ernesto Garcia has cryptography and cryptanalysis experience; he did a tour in OSI," the Office of Starfleet Intelligence. "I'll have him beam right down."

Dobson pulls out her communicator and says to Graham, "Six Security officers will be beaming down shortly to replace Mr. Mahmoud and the others from overnight, sir. How many additional officers would like for execution of the search warrants?"

Rangin nods across to Dr T'Var, "Shall we?" he gestures towards the door allowing the Vulcan to go first and following behind her.

As he passes Kylah, he wishes her a quiet "Good Luck" as he makes his way.

"Thank you, sir," Kylah says to Lt. Thalen. "Lt. Garcia and his expertise will be most welcome. I hope you do not mind, but with your permission, I hope to contact you later for some assistance in checking the backgrounds of some guests Mr. Wilson entertained not too long ago. They were three college friends, and since I believe Mr. Wilson had few such visitors, it may be useful to learn something about them. However, I must get their full names first. Once I do so, I will be in touch--if that is all right with you."

She looks over to Velir when he bids her a farewell, covering her communicator again. "Thank you, and you as well," she murmurs with a warm look at Velir before extending it to T'Var. "Dr. Halsey seems to be losing his patience with us. That may actually be a benefit in loosening his tongue."

Graham shakes his head in response to Kylah's question. "No new discovery...just the basic concept that if Fastolfe didn't kill him while insiders did have a role in it, 'A' as you've said its in his interest to help us and 'B' because of somebody working at framing him we have the ability to make his life miserable, at least for awhile, to encourage him to embrace the former."

"Two more," Graham says in reply to Dobson. He shrugs. "With limited staff it will be necessary as matter of safety and the integrity of the search to sit folks down in one room, with no access to outside communications, while it takes a long, long time to search the premises."

"Of course," Thalen says. "Mr. Kylah, we're at your and the landing party's disposal. Just let us know how else we can help."

Dobson nods and calls the ship, speaking to the Security duty officer. "Beam down a total of eight officers, please. Ens. Graham's orders."

Rangin and T'Var reach the resort's Infirmary doors just as Dr. Halsey is arriving for the day. He looks even less pleased to see you than he did yesterday. "Yes?" he says. "What now?"

Kylah looks at Graham expectantly. He has not responded to some of her suggestions--not a big surprise, as she is now quite used to being ignored by mission commanders--and he also seems slower to act on his own initiative than usual. She wonders why he is so atypically reticent. A cynical thought occurs to her: Perhaps he is just getting mentally ready for what he loves best: a potentially physical altercation and an opportunity to intimidate others.

She is not looking forward to the inevitable confrontation with Fastolfe, and wonders if Graham will act as she fears, especially now that he can now wield a legal cudgel with which to batter Fastolfe, or if he might let her take another diplomatic approach.

"I am ready to leave when you are, Mr. Graham," she says quietly. "I suppose we will wait for the other officers to join the three of us," she adds with a look at Dobson. Then she hesitates before continuing. Kylah is determined that her recommendations be answered, even if they are rejected. "Before we go, I would like to bring up the matter of the safe again, if I may. While we are with Lord Falstafe, perhaps Lt. Delaney can begin extracting it from the wall, cutting it out with a phaser if necessary? It seems..." She tries to think of a delicate way to put this, but fails. "It seems counterintuitive to continue attempting to access it through a solid wall, sight unseen. A tricorder scan is valuable, but a simple visual examination might also be useful, even if there is no physical lock or keypad to view."

Graham smiles slightly at Kylah's comment. "Heh, well, who the hell knows how an engineer's mind works." He shrugs and then nods encouragingly. "Getting that safe open is Lt. Delaney's mission--but you should always feel free to share any ideas you have directly with him, there are no second-class citizens on the team, everybody's ideas are always welcome--even if we don't in the final analysis act on each one."

"On that note...I really would prefer it if we could persuade Fastolfe to see the light and cooperate without any confrontation or drama, up to and including not having to formally execute this warrant at all..." He pauses a second and rubs his chin, weighing his next few words with a certain sense of dread, as his intention is (mostly) to compliment Kylah, but given his track record she's likely interpret what he says as a grievous insult. "To that end...I appreciate and need both your skills and your...ah, passion for trying to achieve that result, Mr. Kylah," he says sincerely. Then he lowers and softens his voice slightly. "But, if I decide we have to go to plan B...then...that's the plan...with no, ah, individual initiatives I don't know about." He tries to end with an encouraging nod.

Given his obvious mood, Rangin decides that outright confrontation would not be the best course and decides to flatter his ego slightly, as it appeared to work yesterday. If Dr Halsety decides to be obnoxious or obstructive, then Dr T'Var can pull rank as a fellow Doctor and a member of Starfleet and get the results that way instead.

"And good morning to you to Dr Halsey." Rangin walks up wearing a cheery smile to greet him. "Dr T'Var and I have come by to find out the results of your tests on those people who had lost the effects of the spores." Rangin follows him up to the entrance and gestures for him to go first.

"I never did get a chance to thank you for carrying out these experiments and how valuable your results could be. After all, it may not even be connected to the dreadful events that occurred and could be a new, unexplained phenomenon you have discovered and the timing mere co-incidence." Rangin follows Dr Halsey inside and continues speaking. "So would it be possible to see the results of the tests? There are several people eager to hear what you have to say."

Graham's indication that he is willing to at least try a diplomatic approach is a relief, but his manner seems... so tenative. What little she can perceive of his emotions makes her think he is extremely guarded and wary. Why? Is he unhappy about the notion? Does he not trust her after yesterday?

Uncertain and somewhat defensive regarding precisely what his implications are regarding 'individual initiatives' -- Does he think I will try to seduce the man? -- Kylah nods at his words and adds quietly, "As you wish, sir. In the meantime, while we wait for the extra security, perhaps I should act on Lt. Delaney's suggestion that I can access the financial and guest communication data that Mr. Wilson sent Lt. Collins yesterday."

She then shifts her awkward gaze to Delaney. She is uncomfortable giving a Lieutenant, no matter what the grade, an idea that he has not already commented upon; is it not frustrating enough to him that a lower-ranked officer is in charge of the mission, much less another one now telling him how to do his job?

"About the safe... What--what do you think, Lieutenant? Would it be useful to extract it from the wall so you can get a clear look?"

Dr. Halsey seems only slightly mollified. He precedes you into his small office, throws himself into his chair and pulls up the test results on a screen. "All those who said that the spores' effect was gone, reported nothing else out of the ordinary. The scans also revealed nothing unusual. They went to bed that night or early the following morning, still under the spores' influence, and when they woke up it was just gone. I could find no commonalities as to race, species, gender, etc. that point to an answer."

Dr. T'Var looks over the results. "I concur. It is quite puzzling." She shakes her head.

In the CP, Delaney says, "It may come to that, Mr. Kylah, but those kinds of safes are sometimes rigged to destroy their contents if you try a brute-force entry. I'd rather give the password program some more time to run."

"Of course, Lieutenant. I had not considered that the contents might be in jeopardy if we opened up the wall." Kylah focuses now on hurrying to locate the files that Mr. Wilson sent to Lt. Collins. She is well aware that if he was hiding anything, the files could easily have been redacted or manipulated. Nevertheless, she reminds herself that all they know about Wilson is that he was a hotel administrator, an adulterer and a murder victim. Those facts do not mean he was also a criminal.

Kylah is able to locate the files without too much difficulty in the murder investigation database which Lt. JG Collins set up yesterday before she fell ill. What would the Communications officer like to know?

The CP's door chimes, and Dobson lets in Lt. JG Ernesto Garcia, the cryptanalyst, and Lt. JG Haakon Kjaerstad, the leader of the day's Security contingent, just beamed down from the Yorktown. Garcia, from Nicaragua, has dark wavy hair and a shy manner, and Kjaerstad is a tall, handsome blond Norwegian who seems eager to please.

"That is a very large co-incidence if that is the case. Four people all losing the effect of the spores. The spores themselves and the and the effects on those people during introduction all coming across as fine. Not to mention that one of those guests yesterday hasn't lost the effects. Also given their qurters are spread throughout the area, it is unlikely to have been a local effect that has caused it."
Rangin pauses for a moment and scowls slightly, "and with the effects on the surveillance system, we cannot tell if any of them did leave their apartments last night for any reason, even if they say they didn't.

"Here's a question for you Drs? What would be the effect of metal that Lord Fastolfe's knives are made of on the spores. It's the only unusual thing I can think of that has appeared on this planet recently. Maybe each loss has its own reason, and we just nmeed to find the four of five that make it up. Nightmares for Mrs Calvin, shock for the Vice Admiral, who knows about Fellim Palver and perhaps over stimulus for Lord Fastolfe?"

Kylah starts to examine the financial records, looking for any oddities--

- for the guests, anyone who did not pay (were comped for some reason) or paid too little, as well as someone who paid too much; if there is a way to compare these records with the current guest roster, she will do so.

- for the hotel staff, again anyone whose salary seems outside of the average considering their job and tenure; anyone who has a great deal of debt or credit to their tabs (assuming there are such things as things that staffers can put 'on account' if they need anything from the resort's stores, restaurants or clubs)

- for the business itself, any outgoing or incoming figures that seem poorly explained or unusual in some way, especially if the funds go to (or are from) anyone on the list of suspects or names that have come up during the investigation

When the door chimes, Kylah glances up only briefly and then does a quick double-take. The sight of a tall, Nordic blond man shocks her. Her heart pounds as she looks more carefully and sees that of course, it is a Yorktown crew member. She breathes deeply and with some difficulty changes her tense expression to a fleeting smile of acknowledgement before she looks at Graham and Delaney; presumably one of them will greet the newcomers and give them their assignments.

She returns to the records. Assuming she has time, she will scan the guest communications for anything that seems noteworthy. If, as Wilson stated, the identity of the guests has not been included, hopefully she might be able to glean some clues to their ID in the context of the message.

Dr. T'Var looks thoughtful. With Dr. Halsey's briefly-frowning agreement, she sits down at his desk, accesses his computer and pulls up a metallurgical analysis of the murder weapon from the investigation's database. She cross-references it with the Starfleet and WR&R research results on the spores thus far. After a few minutes she says, "I don't see that the knives would have any impact. They would be inert with regard to the spores, just like any other metal." Halsey looks over her shoulder and also agrees.

Kylah will need some time - perhaps an hour, maybe two - to correlate and review the records for those three purposes. The guest communications do not, at least at first glance, seem noteworthy - a lot of family messages of the "Having a great time, wish you were here" variety, making arrangements with WR&R reservations and hospitality, and some work-related missives. She remembers Lt. Thalen's offer of help.

Somewhat overwhelmed, Kylah glances over to Graham. She is still uneasy at the thought of just contacting her superior officer without the mission leader's agreement. Collins would have been affronted. Graham... Kylah does not think it likely he would react that way. And yet Kylah would actually feel more comfortable if there were a sharper delineation of command. His demeanor, particularly toward her, has worried her almost ever since they first interacted. His taking hold of her shoulder, standing too close, looming over her, finally grabbing her and even lifting her off her feet...

She shakes her head and pulls up her communicator again. "Kylah to Lt. Thalen. I fear I do need your assistance again, sir. There are financial records to be examined for anomalies. Might I send them to you so that someone with a good eye for fiscal data can analyze the income and expenses for any discrepancies? I dislike foisting off my responsibilities, sir, and if time were not a factor I would do this on my own. But there is so much information..." Kylah looks down, embarrassed that the newly arrived officers are already seeing her unable to complete a task. While she waits, she looks at the messages again, aware that she foolishly ignored that final voice message from Wilson to himself the night he died. She does not want to miss anything else for lack of careful scrutiny.

Graham stands up. "Lt. Kjaerstad--the guests have not panicked as a result of the murder, which is what I'd hoped." He then shrugs. "Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth: the folks here are the financial elite of the galaxy. Let's do Starfleet proud--have your folks politely and professionally engage with people. Ask how they're doing. Back off if folks don't care to sully themselves talking with Security grunts, but be amiable if folks want to chat."

He scratches his chin. "And recommend me two out of the detail who can deal with a lot of guff. When we serve the warrant on Fastolfe, they've got to be able to stay cool when rich assholes through a lot of guff in their faces--but turn on a dime when I give the word to clamp down."

Out of the corner of his eye he briefly notices Kylah glancing at him. He's feeling back in his element, but is concerned she doesn't seem to be in hers. "Is everything all right?" he asks.

Kylah looks up from her second reading of the guest messages and nods her head at Graham, wishing she were not on display. "Yes, sir. I am asking Lt. Thalen for assistance in analyzing the financial books and guest communication documents that Mr. Wilson sent to Lt. Collins the afternoon we arrived. There is more material than I can handle before we go to Lord Fastolfe."

Graham nods approvingly. "Good--if anyone here has the communications skills to persuade Fastolfe to be even slightly less of a jerk it's you, that's where we need you most, so good idea to get some green eyeshade types assigned to handle slogging through the numbers."

"Yes, upload the files, Mr. Kylah," Lt. Thalen says, "and I'll have someone here take a look. Don't know that we have a financial expert aboard, but I'll check the crew roster and skills database to be sure."

Lt. JG Kjaerstad smiles. "Well, I'm your man - I'll be one of the two to come with you to execute the warrant, if I may. I bet Ens. Rawlings would be up for the challenge, too, sir."

Lt. JG Garcia asks, "And what would you like me to do, Mr. Graham?"

Kylah thanks Lt. Thalen and is busy transferring the records when Graham speaks. His words nearly make her fingers tangle up together. She looks at Graham for an instant, her eyes wide and vulnerable with surprise. She does not understand the reference to eyeshades, but the expressed confidence in her is clear enough, and it leaves her at a loss. Since she arrived at the Yorktown, no one--not even Velir--has spoken so highly of her skills. Does Graham mean what he says? Is he trying to make up for his frightening behavior from yesterday? Is he just trying to boost morale? Or does someone finally see some value in her efforts?

About to smile, she drops her gaze quickly back to the screen and stays professional. "Thank you, sir," she says, embarrassed and a bit frustrated by her own neediness. I am like a starving dog begging for scraps at a table, grateful even for a nearly meatless bone.

Graham barely hears Kylah's acknowledgement of his comment as he's turned his attention to the new arrivals. He smiles back at Kjaerstad. "All right, just let it be known you volunteered to spend your day with the two biggest jerks on the planet--Lord Fastolfe, and me." He smiles at Garcia as well.

"There are locked terminals and padds in the murder victim's office and quarters." He shrugs. "Since my crypto skills extend only as far as hitting them with a handy rock, I am confident you'll have much more success accessing their data, if it's at all possible."

Graham pauses a moment. The fact is, he feels more comfortable in command, and specifically in command of a security operation. It doesn't make him at all happy that Collins suffered her medical emergency, but he concedes it did create the circumstanced in which he stood a chance to redeem his earlier poor performance.

"All right, if there are no other questions, let's get to it - when we assemble with Rawlings we can go over what I'm thinking about Fastolfe's house."

"OK, we're all scientists, let's go back to first principles again. Remember, magic only means we don't yet know how the trick is done." Rangin sits in a chair and looks up at the two Doctors. "Stop me when I'm wrong," he smiles at them

"Known facts:
One: Five guests underwent spore therapy. All treatments were successful as confirmed by the research station.
Two: Four of the five are, as of sometime yesterday, no longer affected by the spores. As confirmed by Dr Halsey for three of the guests and I confirmed that Lt. Cmdr. Ebling is still under the effect. I don't believe you spoke to Lord Fastolfe, did you Dr. Halsey?
Three: The spore plants here are untouched since yesterday. Confirmed by the research station from the readings I took earlier.
Four: The night of this occurrence, Mr Wilson was murdered.
Five: Last night all the security cameras were disabled."

Rangin pauses and frowns before continuing. "Being accurate, make it that I confirmed by later afternoon that Lt. Cmdr Ebling was still affected by the spores, I cannot say for the morning."

"Claims:
One: All four who claim the loss say that the loss of spores occurred unexpectedly during the night.
Two: All four who claim the loss have no alibi for last night and we only have their word for what they say happened. Correction, one of them is claiming the alibi of his entourage.
Three: The only method to remove the effect of the spores is a sharp emotional reaction. A claim, because we don't know if there is another method we are unaware of."

He looks across at them, hoping they might have some words of wisdom or experience.
"So, possibilities.
One: It was a bad batch of spores. But that would go against the evidence shown and why would Lt Cmdr Ebling be the only one left affected and so on.
Two: There is a new method of removing the effects of the spores, we just don't know what it is yet. Unlikely, given the efforts of the research station and the resort in analysing the spores. If something was possible, it is more likely they would have discovered it first.
Three: The four people all lost the effect through some action of their own. But that would imply they took part in an action which has not been carried out by any of the guests here in the time since the resort was founded. The only action that springs to mind is the murder of Mr Wilson. But that leads to the problem that in order for that to be correct, all four would have to have been involved in such an action. Is that really a possibility that four people would meet in such circumstances and agree to carry out an action, even if there was some previous connection between them."

"So...what are we missing?"

Lt. JG Kjaerstad calls Rawlings on his communicator, and he soon comes to the CP. Graham's and Kylah's eyes widen a bit. Ens. Terrance Thayer "Two Tons" Rawlings is probably the biggest human in Starfleet uniform they have ever seen, a head taller and quite a bit broader and more muscular than Graham himself; it looks like it took about an acre of red duryon fabric to make his shirt. He is a black American with a shaved head and goatee. "What's the plan, sir?" he asks Graham with a dazzling smile.

"Yes, I spoke to Lord Fastolfe late yesterday," Dr. Halsey said. "He came here to be examined and scanned, and had definitely lost the spores' effect. He was eager to be exposed to the spores again as soon as possible. And if I may correct you, Mr. Rangin, I think Vice Adm. Hardin believed he may have lost the effect of the spores only upon being told of the death of Mr. Wilson - although he wasn't sure. And he knew, when we also talked yesterday, that not just 'a sharp emotional reaction,' but any exposure to significant adrenaline or epinephrine, could cause the spores to fail."

Dr. T'Var nods slowly. "And that could be done artificially." She thinks a moment. "I share your doubts, Ensign, that someone under the spores' influence could commit murder, but we don't know that for sure. The Enterprise's records of their dealings with the Sandoval Colony, all of whom were exposed to the spores, suggests that they could still be stubborn, or resist assertions of authority, and even attempt to assert authority against others. It is not too great a leap from that, I think, to being able to commit a violent act. In doing so, of course, it is likely that there would be an adrenaline surge - in most humanoids, at least - that would then dispel the effect of the spores."

When Kylah recovers from the surprise, she hastens to complete the file transfer, her fingers a blur of action, so that she can return her attention to Rawlings. This time she successfully avoids her original gawking expression in favor of one displaying normal, politely interest.

This human would dwarf a good many of the Klingon warrior guards who always stand guard outside Aldaan's meetings with their superiors. But the Klingons never smiled like this or inspired Kylah's sense of... well, appreciation is probably the most delicate way to put it. The feeling is multiplied by seeing the officer next to Graham. She nearly smiles in wicked delight. Well, sir, how does it feel to cede the title of the most imposing male in the room?

Not that size alone conveys strength or power. Graham's air of barely suppressed violence combined with his strategic--and often angry--mindset are both highly intimidating. Velir, meanwhile, is only about 5 cm taller than Kylah--but she has certainly never believed him weak: to the contrary, she has long been impressed by his strength of purpose, quicksilver intelligence, moral courage and... something indefinable, something hidden behind the wall of his reserved nature that she has not yet breached.

Yes, Kylah is more attracted to Velir's appearance and personality to those of any other man she has met. Nevertheless it would be vain to ignore the fact that Ensign Rawlings is... how would T'Var probably describe it in that dry, understated manner of hers? Most pleasing to the eye.

Kylah stands, preparing to leave for Fastolfe's residence, and unconsciously draws up to her full height--such as it is. She suddenly pictures what she might look like beside Rawlings and has to suppress a laugh at the absurd juxtaposition. Keeping her face composed, although her eyes crinkle in amusement, she shifts her gaze to Lt. JG Garcia. "Excuse me, sir. I am Ensign Kylah; I am fairly new to your department. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir." Looking at Delaney, she adds: "Perhaps Lt. Garcia's expertise will help with the safe and communicator as well?"

"No, that's fine, Dr Halsey, better corrected and right, than not at all. So that leaves three people possibly losing the effect unknowingly. If someone was to be given a shot of it, then most of the guests bodies would have processed it leaving no trace. But that would involve someone going to each of the guests to administer it. In terms of committing an act of violence, we know that it will remove the effect of the spores, but none of the original colonists went as far as committing acts of violence until they were seriously provoked, or an exterior agent acted on them. I think it unlikely they would go that far themselves, especially as they would still be under the effect of the spores at the time. But, one thing does spring to mind. I quite agree Dr T'Var that they would get an adrenaline surge from committing a murder, but I not be surprised if they were affected similarly if they were present when the murder took place. Especially if it was in close quarters, and given the manner of Mr Wilson's demise."

Rangin stops and thinks for a moment.

"Fastolfe has an alibi for that time, either that or his entire entourage are in on it. Ebling was unaffected that night I believe and Hardin lost the effect this morning or so he says. That leaves Palver and Calvin who have no alibi currently, correct?. Hmm, I wonder if the cameras until midnight can confirm their movements.

Rangin smiles at the pair of them. "Doctors, given the nature of Mr Wilson's injuries, which of the two, Palver or Collins, would you say would have been more likely to have assaulted him? Perhaps reacted in self defence or after due provocation."

Graham can't help but continue to smile as Rawlings enters the room. If Rangin were here he'd probably expect me to demand we publicly weigh our gonads to determine who's alpha dog, he thinks.

"Plan?" Graham says. He shrugs. "Well I was going to challenge Fastolfe and his entourage to a trivia contest, but under the circumstances I think we'll skip straight to the physical challenge..."

He taps a finger to his lips. "But seriously, I was thinking about Fastolfe..." Speaking of gonads, he tries hard to un-see his glimpse beneath his lordship's robe.

"One--he probably didn't commit the murder, rather someone would like us to believe he did. Two, he's an actor. Three, he's an egomaniac." He starts to pace. "We've got a legal basis and the authority to bust his ba--" He shakes his head. Not the direction I want my mind to go in, he thinks. "Ah, to put some pressure on him and his people, but I'd prefer he cooperate. So we need to appeal to what matters to him..." He clears his throat.

"What about putting on a performance...being the bait, some kind of dramatic act that bolsters his image and gives him a chance to perform, while perhaps convincing the real murderer that we're focused on Fastolfe. A big goddamned show."

He scratches his head. "Mr. Kylah, you had some success communicating with him. And we know he thinks I'm an assho-- ah, doesn't much like me. So I was thinking you could run just a bit ahead of us..." Graham feels a moment of mortification and concern remembering she'd fallen. "Ah, of course, only if your leg is OK, to tell them that we're on the way to serve a warrant, and that I'm...uh, I'm too, ah, you know, stupid and macho to appreciate the opportunity to work with him rather than against him. The whole big show can be your idea and his. When we show up, I'll defer to that--and a quick voluntary search, mind you--rather than officially serving the warrant."

He pauses and shrugs. "Of course, failing that we do things the hard way. Any questions or concerns?"

Dr. Halsey says, "I think you mean Palver or Calvin, don't you? Of those two, Palver, the Rhaandarite tycoon, is certainly the more physically imposing. Calvin, the author, is an older human female with comparatively little strength."

"True," says Dr. T'Var, "but it does not take all that much strength to stab someone twice in the chest. Either would be physically capable of it. Assuming that they cannot establish a strong alibi, we are left with the question of motive, and there is still nothing to suggest that either wished Mr. Wilson dead."

Kylah listens carefully to Graham's words. "No questions, sir. My leg is feeling much better, and the plan seems reasonable. It is much the same tactic we were planning to use on Mr. Hsu, I believe." She ponders the strategy for another moment, considering how she has fared on the mission so far. "I hope your confidence in me is not ill-placed. Over the past two days I have not been successfully persuasive in my interactions with Dr. Halsey, Prolun Jaxo, Lord Fastolfe..." She trails to a halt when she nearly adds Jan to the list. After only a brief hesitation she stammers, "But I--I will do my best. I am committed to ensuring peaceful cooperation, if it is at all possible."

Lt. JG Garcia says to Kylah, "Pleased to meet you, Ensign." Rawlings nods, as well.

Delaney says with a smile, "Yes, Mr. Garcia could be very useful indeed. In fact, the two of us will go to Wilson's suite now and see where things stand."

Rangin shakes his head, and inwardly curses himself for the stupid mistake. Admittedly, Collins could probably tie most people on the planet in knots, but she was a Federation officer above all. Here to solve the crime, but currently elsewhere. It was a shame, she would probably still have done a better job than Graham.

"To be honest, if they were involved it would be more as accomplices than as the culprit. And yes, we are still far off a motive, indeed."

Rangin slumps back into his chair thinking hard, wondering what it is he has missed. Thoughts start running through his head again, trying to put the pieces in place.

The attack on the security system - Inside job or outside job?
The lack of any other signs in the room where Mr Wilson was killed - How did they clean it up so quickly?
The transporter - someone had to know how to use and delete the logs afterwards?
Several guests suddenly losing spore effect - natural or artificial or both...

Rangin starts tapping absentmindedly on his tricorder, running through the results and the scans trying for some inspiration. He checks it is working once again, scanning for spores and Mr Wilson's blood spatters just for calibration, but expecting everything to check as normal. He sighs wandering what the next task might be.

"I'm sorry, I believe I need a walk to help clear my head, put some thoughts in order," Rangin apologises to the two Doctors, "Dr Halsey, thank you for your valuable time."

He gets up and moves for the door.

Kylah returns the silent greeting nod from Rawlings with one of her own, smiling slightly before looking back at Graham. "Shall I go now, sir? If I may make a suggestion, to ensure that they do not suspect a ruse, you--the rest of you, I mean--should not be in visual range of the house--assuming Lord Fastolfe is still there," she adds with a slight frown. "We should confirm that he has not left the premises, of course. He might be heading to the infirmary to restore the spore treatment. Which reminds me. I requested that Dr. Halsey suspend spore introductions...or re-introductions...until we understand why the treatment wore off early. Should we continue that policy? My instinct is to prefer the process remain off-limits, but I am not sure I can justify it rationally. It is just... my instinct," she says with a small embarrassed shrug.

"Don't discount instinct, Mr. Kylah. Rangin and T'Var went to see the doctor--I'll confirm he's still keeping new spores on hold. I was thinking we give you a good 5 or so minute lead on us, Mr. Kylah--and that asking where Fastolfe had gone to if he has left the house and then having to ah, you know make a pilgrimage to his august location would only add to game here. Of course, we'll be tracking your location and we'll be there on foot or via transporter in a hot minute--"

He pauses, wondering how to respond to her expression of doubt about her performance. "You're doing fine" doesn't feel exactly right, as he's not concerned about her abilities but is still bothered by the ambiguity about the previous night and worry she's too quick to put herself in danger. "I have full confidence in your abilities--just, ah, remember, Ensign, 'peaceful cooperation' here is a means to an end, not an end in itself." He lowers his voice. "You ah, don't take any unnecessary risk on yourself alone, OK."

Once again he's glad his thoughts are his own, as when he says 'peaceful cooperating is a means to an end' it calls to mind a long list of cases where that approach failed. He blinks for a moment, staring at remembered weapons discharges against his eyelids. Weapons free. Return fire. Light 'em up!...Buildings, ships, people... He realizes he can't come up with a firm number for every firefight or use of force he's been a part of, but realizes he could probably come up with one by digging into Starfleet records...then thinks maybe he'd rather not remind himself of any he's managed to forget.

Dr. T'Var nods to Rangin, and remains in the Infirmary to talk a bit more with Dr. Halsey. Rangin finds the hallways beginning to fill with staff and guests as the resort wakes for the day. In an open plaza not far from the Infirmary, he sees storm clouds in the distance, and notices that the temperature has dropped a little.

Delaney and Garcia leave the CP for Wilson's suite.

Kylah accepts Mr. Graham's confidence with a little nod and thanks him for his advice--although she is not sure she understands his priorities. It seems to her that peace should be the ultimate goal; a descent into a violent confrontation would, in Kylah's view, mean failure. "I had better go, then," she adds, and is about to leave when she gets a strange wave of... something... from Graham. Something is distracting him. He seems outwardly calm but his emotions are turbulent. She takes a step backward and her mouth parts to ask him if he is all right, but a quick glance at the others in the room--where the most familiar face is Dobson, whom she hardly knows--makes her change her mind.

She turns and, while her hand automatically checks her phaser is where it should be, leaves the CP for the corridor. Soon she has left the building and is outside heading to the residences in a brisk pace--not quite a jog, but as close to it as she dares given her dodgy knee and the doctor's recommendation that she take things easy for a while. The cooler temperature surprises her. Somehow she has only expected to find warm, sunny weather here. Yet this seems more appropriate to the circumstances. It is as if the spores have lost their effectiveness on the planet itself.

The now-familiar residence area looms ahead, and she makes a beeline for Fastolfe's blue house. During this brief journey she begins to get into her 'role,' imagining herself clashing with Graham over how to treat Fastolfe--not very difficult to do, since that has occurred several times since Wilson's murder. By the time Kylah reaches Fastolfe's residence she has worked herself up to a state of agitated concern. Now thoroughly in that frame of mind, she rings the doorbell twice.

Caleb Hotchkiss, Lord Fastolfe's bodyguard and valet, who answered the door yesterday as well, appears after a few moments. "Yes?"

"Good morning, sir," Kylah says anxiously, looking back to the resort's main building to see if the coast is clear. "I am sorry to bother you this early but the matter is urgent. Extremely urgent. Please, if Lord Fastolfe is available, may I be allowed to see him? There is not much time," she adds with another furtive glance to make sure she is alone. "There are others coming and I need to tell him something before they do. Will you tell Lord Fastolfe that Ensign Kylah wishes to speak with him? Please?"

Hotchkiss raises an eyebrow but lets her in, showing her upstairs to the same sitting room as the day before. After a few minutes, Fastolfe himself enters, in an immaculate, dark-red suit. He sits and gestures for Kylah to do the same. "What brings you here again this morning, Ensign?" he asks, oddly polite.

Graham indicates to Rawlings he should start tracking Kylah's location using his Security tricorder, then contacts the Yorktown. "Graham to Yorktown: I'd like a transporter tech standing by to put us on Ens. Kylah's six at a moments notice, please--I will apprise when that's no longer necessary."

He gestures for the team to follow him out on a slow walk toward Fastolfe's, and contacts Rangin while leaving the CP. "Graham to Rangin...Have..." He pauses before giving Rangin a directive, and instead adopts a less officious tone. "Ah, any new insight, Mr. Rangin? Also--as Mr. Kylah suggested, I think it is a good idea to have Halsey hold off on exposing any of the folks who's spores wore off--at least until you and the Doctor feel there's nothing more we could gain from interviews or scans. Please let me know if he's re-introduced anyone."

"Thank you so much for seeing me, Lord Fastolfe. Forgive my intrusion, I should not even be here, but I could not help myself. I needed to tell you..." She takes a deep breath and steps close, remaining a respectful distance from the great man, and then speaks all in a quick exhalation. "I believe my superiors are making a grave mistake in how they are dealing with you. They wish to--they are being aggressive and acting as if you are a chief suspect. I disagree. I have disagreed with them since the first. You saw how it was, yesterday. There is so much so-called evidence, it all seemingly points to you. The knife, your fingerprints, the argument with Mr. Wilson--now your missing knives. Everyone else seems to think this is a straightforward case. I do not. I never have. I believe you are being framed, I know not by whom."

Kylah bends so she is at his eye-level. "I am not one of your starstruck fans, Lord Fastolfe, but I think... I think you are an intelligent artist whose personality is part of your art and business. I understand this. My family also plays its part back on Elas. But my crewmates... the officer in charge of the investigation... they all take you at face value. And they do believe you to be a violent, arrogant man who would kill Wilson merely for failing to give you the house you wish. It is ludicrous, just as the idea that you would leave such a highly identifiable murder weapon at a crime scene is ludicrous.

"But it is the easy answer. So easy that they are even now on their way to execute a search warrant." Kylah turns to the window, then swiftly looks back pleadingly at Fastolfe. "It is preposterous. I am new to Starfleet, but I thought they were better than the tyrants who rule my planet. I thought better of them. But that makes no difference. What I ask, Lord Fastolfe, is that you please assist me--that you do not do anything to engage their anger. Graham, the mission commander, is just aching for a chance to use all the legal might and even physical intimidation to get what he wants. That is Starfleet justice. I want the truth. You must be cleared or the real killer will never be found, and you will be at the mercy of a man who secretly wishes for a chance to take you in custody. Please, sir--"

Her hand tentatively reaches out to him, but then she jerks it awkwardly back, flushing. "Please, will you not do anything to prevent such unjust actions? If only to avoid the inconvenience to yourself... Please, will you cooperate and help me determine who might be trying to frame you?"

"Rangin to Graham. No, no new insights here at all. Dr Halsey is completely baffled as to why several people would suddenly and with no warning lose the effect of the spores. All the guests apparently have no idea as to how it could have occurred to each of them, apart from Vice Adm. Hardin from the shock of the news this morning. If I didn't know any better I would have said someone had gone round silently in the night with a hypospray. I can't confirm whether anyone has been re-introduced to the spores, I don't believe so, but Dr T'Var is still talking to him. I would suggest contacting her to ask Dr Halsey, I was just on my way to Mr Wilson's office to check his computer for files, download what there is and see if someone more specialised can find anything of interest on it. Unless there is anything you would prefer me to do instead."

Rangin waits to see what Graham orders watching the clouds roll in over the sky and wondering what kind of trouble is coming this way.

"Unless there is anything you would prefer me to do instead."

Graham has to stifle a laugh as "How about chill the fuck out" immediately pops into his head. However given the abject failure of his last attempt at humor with Rangin, he thinks better of it.

He clears his throat. "No, obviously you bring an, uh, expertise the rest of us don't to it, carry on."

Fastolfe takes Kylah's hand and gently strokes it. "Dear lady, how good of you to come to see me. This story of yours... it can't be true, can it? We are both adults. If you are attracted to me, as I am to you, then you have only to say so." He smiles charmingly. "You really are quite beautiful."

Aghast, Kylah has no idea how to respond--although of course, her face flames in a blush, and her instinct is to yank her hand away. She cannot forget how she reacted under similar circumstances the other night at that Italian restaurant. But today there are no spores involved, thank goodness--or are there? Has Fastolfe been reintroduced to the treatment without her knowing it? She tries to corral her flustered emotions in a wary attempt to read his own. Is he truly attempting to seduce her, or is he calling her bluff, toying with her?

Kylah is intent on gaining his cooperation and thus does not want to offend him by pulling away. Instead, she keeps her hand where it is but clutches at him, changing the gesture to one of urgency. "Oh no, Lord Fastolfe, I assure you, I never thought... I promise you, I did not come here for such a thing."

Her gaze turns to the window again, this time quite genuinely wondering if--no, hoping that--the others are about to arrive. She faces Fastolfe and hurries onward. "I only wish to look out for your welfare against people who believe you guilty. I am trying to help you, I need your help..."

The feeling of his skin on hers is too intimate. It is Jan all over again. She blurts, "You must believe me! My colleagues are on their way with a warrant, they will search this house with or without your permission. And I will be in terrible trouble if they thought I was trying to--" Suddenly the very real and embarrassing possibility of Graham catching her like this, assuming she was trying to influence Fastolfe in such a manner, makes it all worse. She almost groans at the thought and beseeches him: "What can I do to convince you?"

The interstellar celebrity chuckles. "No judge would ever issue a warrant against me. My influence reaches too far; my fans would never stand for it. But you...." he smiles again, and leans in close. "Ah, you, sweet Kylah. You have bewitched me, and that can lead to only one outcome." He is not under the influence of the spores, she senses, but does seem quite sincerely taken with her.

From high above on the Yorktown, Lt. JG Mark Ferguson replies to Graham, "Standing by in the Transporter Room, sir. I have a lock on Ens. Kylah."

"Outcome?" Kylah shakes her head, mortified and confused. "What do you mean, outcome? No, this is--I cannot have bewitched you, I've done nothing, I did not mean to do so! And you are wrong, dead wrong, about the warrant." Belatedly she realizes what Fastolfe probably means by outcome, and at once she tries to draw back. "No! The only outcome you are headed for is having a team of Starfleet security officers, including one half the size of this house, barging in to execute a search!"

She meets his gaze in hopes that he will see her sincerity. His feelings seem genuine but... how can this have happened? Is this place a satyr's paradise? At last Kylah lifts her chin, eyes flashing with determination. "If you are truly bewitched, then--then will you do as I ask, for your own sake? Will you help me determine the truth? Promise and I will... I will think better of you. I will be your friend. I cannot promise more. Now will you listen to reason? Or do you require me to prove I am an Elasian woman?"

Her voice lowers as she peers at him. "Women on Elas always have two weapons close at hand, Lord Fastolfe. The first is a knife--and unlike you, mine is not kept in some souvenir display case. The other is a single tear. One drop is all I need to take you from bewitched to enslaved. Is that what you want?"

Graham acknowledges Ferguson's hail, and, having heard nothing from Kylah, asks him to stand by. He confirms Kylah's location is the house, and checks the time.

"All right folks," he says to the Security team, "Let's step up the pace - Ens. Kylah's had a few minutes - most likely Fastolfe's clammed up again, but if anybody can convince him to play ball it's her. First thing we do is secure a room and corral the occupants in there - unless something's squirrelly, in which case first priority is secure Mr. Kylah. On entry I'm center, Kjaerstad right, Rawlings left, Dobson behind me."

Once they reach the door to the house he checks the time again. "Sixty second countdown. Check phasers, light stun setting, we go in holstered as long as folks cooperate. However we know there are deadly weapons in the house: until searched assume any individual may be armed. And remember we have a warrant for searching their person, whether they like it or not."* He calls up the warrant on the Security tricorder so it's ready to show to Fastolfe or one of his minions.

"Any questions?" he asks, his finger hovering over the chime.

*I know it's space velcro not a holster per se but I assume they use that word or some colloquial term not invented yet for "in their not-in-hand spot"

When Graham has finished speaking Rangin puts the communicator away and heads across to Mr Wilson's office to see what he can find.

If Mrs Hsu is there, he will greet her politely, ask how she is doing and politely enquire for access to Mr Wilson's office and his terminal to continue the investigation.

Lord Fastolfe pulls his hand back as if bitten, and rises to his feet. "I know about Elasian tears... and knives," he says, scowling. He leaves the room and Kylah hears him heading to the stairs.

Mrs. Hsu is in her office, looking a little better than she did yesterday. She looks up from a data tablet, stylus in hand, and smiles a little at Rangin. "Of course, help yourself," she says. Wilson's office door opens with his thumbprint, and his computer terminal appears ready for any inquiry.

Graham's Security team - Kjaerstad, Rawlings and Dobson - has no questions. They are keeping pace with him.

This man is more mercurial than Elaan, Kylah thinks as she stares at his retreating figure. Biting her lip, she tries to fathom his emotions as she hurries out of the room to his side. "Lord Fastolfe, please! I am sorry, I should not have said that. But you--you frightened me. You were not listening, and were saying such things and holding me..." Her voice is hoarse and every word is sincere. "I took your advances badly, for I have only recently been burned, badly."

At the stairs now, she reaches to touch his arm, exerting only the lightest pressure to encourage him to face her. "I would never, ever, harm anyone who was not hurting me. My whole reason for being here is because I do not want to see you hurt." Her tone softens further. "Please. Will you accept my apology? And most of all, will you trust that I only want to help, to make sure you are not framed for something you did not do? Whatever I must do to convince you that I am trustworthy, just tell me. I will do it."

"Your apology is accepted," he says brusquely, jerking his arm away. "Trust is something else entirely. But now I have to tell Hotchkiss to let your goons in without resistance." He charges downstairs.

Kylah is at a loss to understand his overreaction to her words. How can such a man be this sensitive? One minute fawning over her, the next acting as if she is some poisonous beast. His behavior makes no sense to her. It seems utterly random. But there is clearly no point in trying to comprehend a character as inconsistent as this.

She stands at the top of the stairs, awkward and ashamed at having yet again failed to win someone over in any way other than physically attracting them. Her entire experience here has been nothing but people turning against her on a dime. Collins was right. I serve no purpose except as bait.

After a miserable moment, she walks downstairs in dull resignation. There seems little point in trying anything anymore. She will restrict herself to listening.

Rangin is unsure where to start, muses over the computer and then starts by looking at all the files that were changed over the last week or so. There will probably be hundreds, but is something was going on, it was happening recently and hopefully some of these files will show.

If possible, he will set it to retrieve and display any hidden files that might be on the terminal, thinking that it was likely that Mr Wilson would hide some of them.

He wonders how the rest of them are doing. Dr T'var is no doubt eliciting further information from Dr Halsey on a professional basis, that Rangin just doens't have. Graham will be enjoying himself, terrorising and threatening people, probably using some violence, getting to arrest and intimidate, throw his weight around that sort of thing, and Kylah...Rangin's mind drifts back to last night, how close she was, how he held her gently. She was beautiful indeed, but that didn't really matter, especially in the moonlight, but he felt so relaxed around her.

Rangin glances back at the screen and hopes it would keep taking just that little bit longer to come back with results.

There are close to four dozen files on Wilson's office desktop computer that have been changed in the past week. Most of them appear innocuous, dealing with payroll, budget, guest services, interoffice memos and the like. Two are encrypted, however: one titled "Co Bd" and the other "H S misc."

Rangin stops his daydreaming and looks at the two encrypted files wondering what it was he had found. The two names didn't mean anything at first glance but considering everything else on the terminal was accessible, Rangin nods to himself that perhaps he might have found a clue. Of course, they had to be unencrypted first, and he, Rangin would quite happily admit, was no expert at unencrypting files. Now if Kylah was here, no doubt she would be able to deal with it.

Rangin sighed, Kylah would still be dealing with Lord Foulstuff and Ensign Graham. Hopefully, Lt JG Garcia would be able to do likewise. He picked up his communicator and called Lt Delaney.

"Ens. Rangin to Lt. Delaney. Excuse me Sir, but I have found some encrypted files on the terminal in Mr Wilson's office. Would it be possible for Lt JG Garcia to take a look. They appear to be of importance."

While waiting for a response, Rangin gets his tricorder out and starts scanning the office for any signs of biological matter. There should only be signs of Wilson, Mrs Hsu and possibly the cleaners in here, although the room had been sealed since the murder. Rangin wondered who else might have been in here. After that, and given the hidden safe in his suite, Rangin decides a more thorough sweep of the office is perhaps more than necessary.

Despite her malaise, Kylah tries to read Fastolfe, hoping possibly in vain to determine what his emotions are, how she can reach him. He cannot be as insulted as he seemed; a man who pulled a knife out in an attack on Wilson over a trivial matter, a man who picked up two strangers before breakfast for a ménage a trois... a man who claimed to have found her beautiful, bewitching and apparently beddable only moments ago... no, this reaction to mere words makes no sense. She would rather he continue to slobber over her than cut her off this way.

She waits for him to speak to Hotchkiss. When he is through, she will make a last stab at regaining his trust, to make him see reason.

Rangin finds no biosigns in Wilson's office other than for Wilson and both Hsus.

Lt. JG Garcia says, "On my way, Ensign," and in a few minutes has arrived in Wilson's office. He sits down and types up a storm, looking over the encryption designators for the two files. He rubs his chin and finally says, "I think we can get into these. Let's see...." He establishes a direct link to the Yorktown and engages a classified decryption program from the Library Computer. "Might take a little while."

Lord Fastolfe has already finished talking to Hotchkiss in the short time it takes Kylah to go downstairs, and they both stand watchfully in the main entryway. The rock star seems unhappy but basically calm. He is, she has seen time and again, a very mercurial man.

Miss Adjetey emerges from another room and gives Kylah a cool nod. Fastolfe takes her aside and speaks quietly with her for a moment.

When there is a break in Fastolfe's conversation with Adjetey, Kylah moves hesitantly nearer. She keeps her expression even and hopeful, although despair is rising in her. I must get something right, I cannot continue to fail. Graham said in front of everyone that he had confidence in me; I must not disgrace myself again.

"Lord Fastolfe," she says quietly, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "Please. May I speak to you one last time in private? I understand you do not trust me. But I very much need you to. I hope you will at least allow me to explain." Kylah looks quickly at Miss Adjetey, wondering why the woman seems so cold to her, before staring up at Fastolfe again.

"The 'goons' you referred to--they most assuredly are not my goons. They are security officers, and colleagues, but they are not--I wish they were not necessary. I still do not think they are. That is why I came here. I have done everything I can to prevent aggression on anyone's part. You saw that in the introduction room, where we first met. I do not like bullying, even from Starfleet officers, and I do not approve of violence, real or threatened. I would never have said what I did if I..."

She now looks down, avoiding both Adjetey and Fastolfe. "I do need to say this in private, Lord Fastolfe. Please?"

When everyone is in position, Graham checks the settings of his own phaser, puts it in its place, and takes the Security tricorder in his left hand. With his right he hits the door chime of Lord Fastolfe's house

The chime gives Kylah a jolt, and she curses the bad timing. Now he arrives--where was he before I made my stupid mistake?

She darts a look at Fastolfe and says in a rushed whisper. "I know I am not your advocate, I only advocate for the truth. But if you are innocent, I beg you, help us find the person who is fashioning all the events and evidence to make you seem to be a killer. The security team will search, that is all; they do not want trouble. They will do nothing, they can do nothing, if you cooperate."

Suddenly she grabs hold of his sleeve and stares intently up at him. "If you believe nothing else I say, Lord Fastolfe, believe this: If I am convinced of your innocence--and I am very much inclined that way--and there is any physical threat? I vow I will put myself between you and them if I must."

Fastolfe looks at her strangely, pulls his arm away - not quite as abruptly as before - and turns to Hotchkiss. He nods to the bodyguard, who opens the door to the outside. From where she stands, Kylah can just see Graham and the others beyond the door.

Miss Adjetey steps forward. She says calmly, "Ens. Graham again... and three friends, all in red. What brings you back to us this morning, Ensign?"

Graham quickly looks to assess the location and demeanor of everyone in range of his vision. He keeps his own posture alert but not aggressive. "Miss Adjetey. I'd hoped that with some time to think..." Or boff a few more guests, whatever. "...his lordship would be more amenable to cooperating with our investigation," he says evenly. Personally, I am finding the use of Fastolfe's honorific increasingly entertaining, he thinks, although he carefully hides any expression of it.

He pauses, clearing his mind so as to be equally prepared to take someone to the ground as relax, amp up the friendly quotient or start barking orders.

"Thank you sir, I hope it won't take too long," replies Rangin to Lt JG Garcia and just lets him get on with his job.

While the senior officer is working, Rangin starts scanning the office to see if there are any more hidden safes in the walls, or indeed anything hidden within the walls, that may be of interest. After that he will start looking through any papers or datapads still around to see if there is anything of interest.

Kylah clasps her hands together in front of her and remains where she is by Fastolfe's side, trying to look relaxed; if Graham sees her, perhaps he will take his cue from her--although that is debatable, since she has not managed to influence anyone positively other than Mrs. Hsu.

She is not sure why she feels the pull to defend Fastolfe, of all people. Even setting aside the obnoxious, spoiled, sybaritic persona he projects to everyone, the man is on top of the world--multiple worlds, to be precise--and as he told her, has powerful friends and fans. He surely neither needs nor wants what little help he can receive from a low-ranked Starfleet nonentity.

Yet something does bother her about his situation, enough to have aroused her protective instincts. She has seen alleged enemies sent to be 'interrogated' by the Elasian Guard, the official security force of her planet. Those who endured the torture usually confessed to anything, no matter the truth of the matter. Those who died in custody were proclaimed guilty posthumously. All to ensure the Guard maintained its perfect crime-solving reputation.

Kylah knows Starfleet does not allow such behavior--or at least, given the story Graham related at the formal dinner party back on the Yorktown, it does not officially condone it--but still, Starfleet is not infallible. A clever-enough murderer can fool them. She cannot abide the thought of an investigation being manipulated, of evidence being manufactured, to make an innocent man look guilty. No matter how unlikeable that man is.

And, in a surprising realization, Kylah finds Fastolfe not entirely unlikeable. That is perhaps the strangest thing of all.

"What sort of cooperation did you have in mind, Mr. Graham?" Adjetey asks. Fastolfe seems content to let her do the talking. She continues, "I thought we did that yesterday. It didn't end well."

Garcia nods and keeps working. Using his tricorder and close visual inspection, Rangin finds no safes, or anything else, hidden in the walls. The papers and datapads appear unchanged since yesterday, and he finds nothing of note.

Rangin considers what to do next. There were a few things that were bothering him, things that the group seem to have let slip in the race to try and find the next clue and the next clue heading ever faster onwards until, perhaps, they couild find the one golden clue that might answer all their questions about the murder. It was never like that, it was always the slow accumulation of data, a biut here, a bit there that usually gave the clearest picture in the end.

Rangin decided that while the others were out playing good cop,. bad cop, and Dr T'Var was once again drinking tea with Dr Halsey, Rangin would chase up on all the other bits and pieces that had occurred but that no-one had gone back to.

"If you will excuse me sir, I have a few things to catch up on. Please let me know when you have cracked the files." Rangin says before heading out to the security office. If there is someone there, Rangin intends to ask about the security breach when the first arrived to see if anything has been discovered and also if there was anything further about the security cameras that has been found. Finally was there any correlation between the security breach and the lack of identity of the transporter user not to mention the lack of details in the room Mr Wilson was killed in.

Of course, the room Mr Wilson was killed in, would security have access details for anyone who might have entered the room. Its not as if they would just open for anyone. Would those details have been removed as well?

Rangin's pace quickens as he heads off.

Garcia says, "Will do."

Officer Peters in the resort security office when Rangin arrives. He looks over recent reports and says, "We still haven't been able to trace the security breach from yesterday afternoon. We know that it was done via subspace and from relatively close by. Still no data on the security cameras - they were remotely disabled and the databanks then wiped. It would take an expert to pull it off - a real pro. I can't see any correlation between that and the lack of any ID for the transporter user, but someone who could pull off one could probably do the other, too. The transporter room would usually be locked, and as far as I can tell, it was last night, too. There's no record as to who opened it - that, too, appears to have been wiped." He sounds frustrated.

"No, not that room, this room, next to the transporter, where it appears Mr Wilson was killed. I want to see if Mr Wilson is marked as going into it, or if those records have gone as well. Actually, is there anywhere else in the resort where it looks as though records have been deleted?"

Rangin wonders where you could hide a subspace transmitter within close reach of the grounds without anyone noticing...other than perhaps the research station. Then again, all their fingerprints had been cleared from the murder weapon. Another dead end.

Graham shrugs slightly. "Well, not to put to fine a point on it, but my recollection of yesterday includes a statement along the lines of 'I have nothing more to say, leave now' which I'd call just a wee bit short of the highest level of cooperation I've gotten in the past from folks at risk of an arrest for homicide," he says evenly. He adds "Not to mention insulting one of my officers," he a little more darkly.

He gestures, palm up, with his right land, as if to dismiss yesterday's events. "But, all that aside, if Fas...Lord Fastolfe," he continues, addressing Adjetey, "or any of you on his staff really didn't kill Wilson, then whether we like each other or not we do have a common enemy."

He places his hand briefly on his chest and then extends it slightly toward her. He strives to be as polite as he can be: "If I were you--or his lordship--I'd voluntarily let us look for evidence in this house, and, assuming the claim of innocence holds up, help us find a way to flush out the real killer." He gestures toward Fastolfe. "After all he is supposed to be a creative genius."

He pauses. "Either way," he adds more firmly, "going along on your merry ways isn't an option." He raises an eyebrow. "But you have some control over what exactly happens next."

Her clasped hands are turning white with effort as Kylah forces them together. Why, why, why can he not just ask a civil question without being offensive?

After a moment of hesitation, Kylah breaks her silence and adds softly: "You remember, Ms. Adjetey, that three of Lord Fastolfe's knives have disappeared, and one was used as a murder weapon. They may have been stolen to implicate him in his crime. If so, you must realize that the killer was not only Mr. Wilson's enemy, but was--and remains--a serious threat to Lord Fastolfe as well. There might be further attempts to frame him--or worse. We need your assistance to determine the truth, solve these crimes, and obviate the danger."

She turns slightly and looks up at Lord Fastolfe, her gaze as gentle as her voice. "Please. Will you help us?"

Officer Peters frowns and turns back to his computer. "The conference room adjoining the transporter room should've been locked, too, but... yes, the access records to it have also been wiped. Don't know who went in there or when, but for the faint blood stain we found." He runs a search on access records for all other rooms of the resort. All appear to have been wiped for that night.

Fastfolfe looks at Adjetey, who shakes her head very slightly. He turns back to Graham and says, "You are still not welcome here. Ens. Kylah tells me you have a warrant, and that you will search this house with or without my permission. It will have to be without. Please show Miss Adjetey, my lawyer, the warrant."

"Well, I have got one last long shot before I'm forced to go and get one of your coffees to kickstart my brain." Rangin puts his thoughts in order thinking over the pattern of things.

"Lord Fastolfe arrived the day before Mr Wilson was murdered. According to the autopsy, his knife found at the location was used to kill him. This means the culprit had to get a hold of the knife before the crime was committed at the latest time of 12:30am. They also had to know about it before that point as well, and I think most people had no idea until he pulled that stunt in the waiting room this afternoon. Which means someone had to get into Lord Fastolfe's rooms to get hold of it."

Rangin looks across at Officer Peters. "One: how quickly did word get around of what Fastolfe had done and what he had used? Two: Given the amount of surveillance and the fact the footage wasn't wiped up until midnight, can you get a list of everyone who entered those apartments on that day? We might see if anyone shouldn't be there...so, coffee?"

Graham shakes his head. "Have it your way..." He holds the tricorder up for Adjetey to see. "As you can see, we have a warrant to search this property and its occupants."

He glances around. "In order to protect the integrity of the search--and officer safety, since we know that deadly weapons were on the premises, and..." He looks briefly at Fastolfe. "At least some persons present have a track record of attacking people with them, you and the other occupants will have a seat..." He shrugs slightly and points down at the floor with his right hand. "Right here seems fine, where you'll be scanned for weapons. You can voluntarily disclose any items on your person for examination, or we'll search you one by one."

He waggles a finer pointing alternately to Adjetey, Hotchkiss, and Fastolfe. "Do I have a volunteer to get us started?"

Peters pours Rangin a cup of coffee. It tastes a bit better than the brew from yesterday. "What apartments do you mean?" he asks. "Mr. Wilson's suite? Or did you mean Fastolfe's guest house? And word spread pretty fast about Fastolfe pulling a knife on Mr. Wilson, I'd say. That kind of gossip travels at warp speed."

Adjetey and then Fastolfe look at the warrant and seem satisfied. "You may start with me, but I refuse to sit on the floor," Fastolfe says. "I am unarmed at the moment, as I believe all of us are but for Hotchkiss, who has a permit." The bodyguard nods. The rock star continues, "Scan us and frisk us where we are, but then let us sit on furniture like civilized beings, please."

Kylah, about to object before Fastolfe spoke, has to nod slightly when he says exactly what she would have. She hates being in this position and she wonders if Graham is doing this on purpose--playing a role. Or is he really this vindictive toward suspects?

The voices of the other dinner guests sound far away to Kylah as the new Security officer continues to tell his tale. “I track this guy down…he’s human, but deep into dealing with the Orions. I want to have a little chat, except he’s not so keen on sticking around. Only I’m not so keen on letting him go.”

As Ensign Graham's finger runs along a scar Kylah didn't notice until now, she feels her stomach tighten in growing dread at where this story seems to be headed. And her instincts prove correct when the man concludes, almost casually: “I got hurt. He got… The doctor would say the clinical definition is ‘dead.’”

The memory haunts her and she shakes her head free of it. Yes. Graham is quite capable of far, far worse than the mere pettiness of forcing someone he dislikes to sit on a floor.

Kylah takes a tiny step forward, still remaining close to Fastolfe. "Excuse me, sir, but I... I think this request is reasonable. I admit I am not familiar with these procedures, but--but is it truly necessary to scan them while seated in such a manner? Weapons will be just as apparent to your tricorders if they stand. And once you confirm they are unarmed as Lord Fastolfe says, surely..." Her eyes flick toward the wall of uniformed muscle that is Ensign Rawlings, then return to meet Graham's gaze. "Surely we will be safe enough."

Graham stares at Fastolfe for a moment, and smiles slightly at Kylah. "Well, I always say that those who act like civilized beings ought to be treated like civilized beings." He nods. "Since you're all being cooperative and not giving any reason--so far--to worry about any funny business, as soon as we clear a room we'll settle you in there....on what I am sure are very comfy chairs." He gestures toward the interior doors from the room. "Kjarstead, Rawlings--clear whichever of the adjacent rooms looks most suitable for that first. Scan for prints, transporter signatures...full sweep for evidence, anything that looks relevant." He holds up a finger. "Oh, and by the way we have world-class crypto-geeks on station, so if we want to keep everything all friendly it'd be nice if you'd provide passwords to any locked padds and such." He shrugs. "It would save a little time, and the result will be the same."

"Dobson, if you'll relieve Mr. Hotchkiss of any weapons and scan the others for weapons as well, I'll get started." He hands the tricorder to the security officer and cracks his knuckles. "Honestly, your lordship, I'm no more enthusiastic than bodily frisking you than you most likely are about me doing it, so if you'd like to voluntarily turn out pockets and offer up any devices you're wearing, we can be...as you say, 'civilized' about this."

He pauses. "If you'll excuse me a moment first..." He pulls out his communicator. "Graham to...transporter room. Situation is secure, Lieutenant, you can stand down," he says to Lt. Ferguson, careful not to use his name as he remembers the incident with Kylah. "Mr. Kylah, your discretion whether you remain here with the suspects or join the others in the search."

Kylah is genuinely surprised at the mention of passwords. She did not think a search would include such data. But her attention returns quickly to Graham when he claims that he is not looking forward to frisking Fastolfe. Somehow that gesture of cracking his knuckles creates an entirely different impression.

Now she must make a choice. Awkward, uncertain what to do, Kylah looks over to Fastolfe, knowing he will probably not care one way or another. But she promised him that he could trust her. Regardless of her duty, even regardless of this man's guilt, searching through his things feels like a violation of that promise. "I do not think I should..." she says hesitantly before facing Graham again. "That is, I doubt I would be of much assistance in a search."

She does not turn back to Fastolfe, but she does wonder if his rather outsized pride would find it galling to be forced into such a powerless position. Her pride is only half so big, and she certainly would hate being treated this way. I did not attack anyone with a knife, Kylah reminds herself. Still...

"As to whether I stay here, perhaps it would be best for a woman to be present while Ms. Adjetey is scanned. But I will remove myself afterward, if--if Lord Fastolfe and the others prefer."

Ferguson says over the open channel, "Acknowledged. Yorktown standing by." Kylah recognizes his voice, of course.

Hotchkiss has a Grayson Arms RL67 phaser, a nasty little black piece of work, in an ankle holster; Dobson relieves him of it. None of the others are armed. Kjaerstad and Rawlings proceed to search the first-floor rooms, visually and by tricorder. There are a sitting room, living room, dining room and study - all quite luxurious and comfortable - and a kitchen and storage rooms. Two WR&R staffers in the kitchen, a gourmet chef and her assistant just beginning to prepare lunch, are surprised to see the redshirts. There are stairs and a dumbwaiter down to the basement.

Fingerprints are everywhere on the first floor from apparently several dozen people. There are no indications of transporter use on the first floor, but faint readings from upstairs. Adjetey provides passwords for two datapads in the study, and Graham is able to easily access the files.

Dobson stands by with Graham and Kylah, alert to any signs of trouble.

Rangin looks askew at Peters when he responds.

"Wilson's suite? No, I was thinking of Fastolfe's guest quarters through the day. Someone would have to have gone there to fetch the murder weapon at some point. But...but...you have made me think of one thing. We have been assuming that Mr Wilson was killed while he was on a late night round. What if he wasn't, what if he was actually going to meet someone later that night. Someone would have had to drop a message to meet him somehow, otherwise it does just become random chance if they would meet...and given how much preparation went into this, our killer would want to ensure it was going to happen."

Rangin taps on the desk while looking at the screens, "Go for it, let's see if anyone dropped a note into Mr Wilson's suite during the day, because we haven't found any electronic comms to the like. He was last seen entering his apartment at about 23:15. So, who stopped by from say 10am onwards."

Rangin has a sudden chill, what if one of the people there was going to be Mrs Hsu, but then she might have good reason for being there anyway. He didn't want to alert anyone to her affair, but, this was something they needed to find out.

At the sound of Ferguson's voice, Kylah immediately targets her stare at the floor and tries to keep her mind blank and her face, for once, free of a blush. The latter is not entirely successful, although it is helped by knowing that Graham is otherwise occupied. Still, she is not pleased to be reminded of yet another blundered confrontation on her part, much less of the fact that in less than a week, four different men have assumed her easy targets for their sexual, verbal or physical aggression.

When she hears of the faint transporter traces, she shifts focus back to Fastolfe. Is there any way she can make him see reason? Are her instincts completely wrong--not for the first time nor likely the last?

"Lord Fastolfe," Kylah says, her tone still reserved. "I am glad that you are represented by an attorney. You should have someone who has your best interests at heart." Which is a big assumption; Kylah has no idea whether Adjetay is trustworthy or not. "And I understand you have no desire to cooperate with us, since you see us all as the enemy. Although earlier, you seemed to feel differently..." She does not bring up his declarations to her. First, she would not embarrass either him or herself in front of the others. And second, it is highly possible he meant none of his honeyed words.

"But at least you do know, now, that I was telling you the truth. I wanted to prevent this imposition. I hope that shows you... I hope it means something to you." She bites her lip in thought, then takes a seat as far away from them as she can while still able to speak quietly. "If nothing else, could we try to pinpoint what might have happened to the knives? The problem seems to be that one or more of your staff members have been in the house at all times, even when you were gone. But with a transporter, anyone might have beamed in directly to your room, then departed without a trace. Which means it is possible an employee might have unknowingly been present when this occurred. They might have heard something, anything, and not realized what it meant."

Kylah hesitates. She must ask this carefully. "I remember you mentioned a Mr. Stimmons, your personal assistant. And we know Mr. Hotchkiss. As such close associates, they seem likely to be the employees who would be most loyal, and willing to help end this unfortunate situation. Along with Ms. Adjetey, of course," she adds with an acknowledging nod to the other woman. "Am I correct? Have they been with you a long time? And were either of them here while you were not?"

Peters shrugs and says to Rangin, "Sorry, you referred to 'apartments,' and Fastolfe has been in a guest house since he arrived. Now let's see...." He brings up the hallway surveillance vid from outside Wilson's suite from 1000 hours the day of the Yorktown's arrival, as you ask. You both see a member of the cleaning staff ("That's Tim Harris," Peters says) enter with a cart of cleaning supplies at 1017, according to the timecode, and leave at 1055. Wilson enters the suite at 1703, and leaves again just six minutes later. He returns again at 2315 and does not emerge before the screen goes to static at 0000, midnight.

Miss Adjetey sees Kylah talking to Fastolfe, and says calmly but firmly, "As you and your colleagues are now executing a search warrant here in his lodgings against my client's wishes, and as he is plainly a suspect in your murder investigation, I will ask you to say nothing further to him, and I advise him not to answer you, as is his right under Federation law." Fastolfe seems about to say something, but then nods slightly and does not reply to Kylah.

Kylah desperately wants to say that she is not executing anything except the last shreds of her patience. "I have tried more than you know to exonerate him, Ms. Adjetey. I have believed this a set-up since the very moment I learned the details of the crime," she whispers fiercely with only a darting glance at the attorney before she aims a final pleading look at the rock star. "How can you not see...?"

Her words trail off. There is no point. She cannot convince anyone of anything. She shakes her head and stands. "I understand your legal rights, Lord Fastolfe. I respect that you feel this is the wisest course of action. I will not attempt to speak to you until you wish it--and as long as your attorney gives you permission."

Turning away, Kylah looks for Graham. "Excuse me, sir," she says a bit hoarsely. "I do not know the law, and I hope you will guide me. Is there any legal reason I would be prohibited from speaking to any of Lord Fastolfe's employees? And I did not hear whether the other security officers found Lord Fastolfe's personal assistant in the residence. If they have, would it be all right if I--or we--interviewed him?"

Graham listens to Kylah's question. "You can speak with anyone until or unless...of their own accord or..." he glances at Fastolfe and then Adjetey. "On the basis of bad advice they refuse to answer questions and invoke their right to an attorney."

Still looking mostly at Kylah but speaking at a volume that would easily be overheard. "What I don't understand is this: it's totally slick to hear about the incident with Wilson and then beam in to steal a knife: one, it gets you a murder weapon without you having to bring one on-planet. Two, it implicates Lord Fastolfe. But why steal more than one? Another knife is a piece of evidence tying you to the crime." He scowls. "If you ask me, whoever did this is too smart to have done that without a reason, and we're in a race against time to figure out who it was before they plant evidence that further puts a bull's eye on Fastolfe." Then he shrugs and smiles slightly at Kylah. "But then again no here's interested in conversation."

"I'll join after I check these padds quickly--and we should also make sure we get a list of every WR&R staffer who's been in this house from...well, anybody who'll talk to us." He chuckles and gestures to Dobson, who has seemed to be very much on the laconic side. "If we leave you to hold down the fort here, I hope you won't be too upset you won't be able to make a lot of small talk."

He quickly checks the padds for anything that might relate to Wilson or the murder.

"My fault, language misuse," smiles Rangin back at Peters. "Well, I wonder what Mr Wilson was doing so briefly in his apartment for those six minutes. Can you see if he was carrying anything, or dropping something off. Why go in for just six minutes and then head out again?"

Rangin frowns and looks across, "Did you say that Fastolfe had been in his guest quarters all that time. We have statements he went out to the nightclub last night? In fact, Mr Wilson and him were both seen there at the same time, so he had to have left his guest house before 11:15."

"Are you sure you have checked that footage?" Rangin looks suspiciously across sat him, unsure whether it is a slip or something worse, seeing as it was so obvious to disprove.

Adjetey corrects Kylah: "It's not a matter of me giving Lord Fastolfe permission to speak to you. I cannot order him to do anything; I can only advise him. He is both my employer and my client. If he chooses to talk to you, of course he may. Others on his staff have the same right."

There are hundreds of files in each datapad, Graham sees. At a glance, nothing appears to have any direct bearing on the murder investigation; the files are mostly about Lord Fastfolfe's music and acting commitments, fan relations, business dealings, investments, travel arrangements, correspondence, personnel issues and the like.

Officer Peters rewinds the hallway security vid to look at Wilson's six-minute visit to his suite. Rangin and he can clearly see that Wilson was empty-handed upon both entering and leaving. Peters recalls, "Yes, Fastolfe and some of his people did go to the nightclub the night he arrived. It shows up on the nightclub surveillance vid, and I think he admitted it, too, didn't he?"

"Yes, Fastolfe did admit it. The question is, during the time that Lord Fastolfe and his entourage were at the nightclub, did anyone else enter the property to remove the weapon that was going to be used to commit the murder of Mr Wilson. If no-one else entered that property, then no-one else took the weapon and you just narrowed down the list to a very small set of suspects."

After nodding at Graham's words, Kylah gives Adjetey a brief sidelong look. "Yes, thank you, Ms. Adjetey. Although I am sure Lord Fastolfe will do as you advise." She avoids the superstar entirely in favor of aiming squarely at his bodyguard. "Mr. Hotchkiss. May I please speak with you? Preferably somewhere less crowded?"

Graham barely perceptibly frowns. There was the incident with Ferguson, then with this Jan character. Now Ens. Kylah is stepping away with this Hotchkiss guy.

There are many options for what the patterns mean: but the one that seems most true to him is that she is young, desperate to prove herself, and alone. The sort who would attract users and predators. Or gravitate toward danger unawares. Like Fiona.

His hand tightens on the padd he's holding and it takes significant effort not to move. Give her some space, Graham thinks, gritting his teeth. She's s Starfleet officer.

But he notes the direction they take.

Peters scratches his ear and says, "From what I remember of the reports, I think Fastolfe said someone remained in his guest house all the time, and that it was never left unattended, even when he and the rest of his entourage went to the nightclub. I don't think he identified who was left behind, though."

Hotchkiss looks a little surprised at Kylah's request, but stands and goes with her. The sitting room is just a few steps away, and has two doors which can be closed. "Yes, Ensign?" he asks. He seems polite but guarded.

Note: assume that while Kylah is asking a bunch of questions and acting a role, she is leaving time for Hotchkiss to react and answer.

Kylah closes the doors most of the way, but leaves them open enough so that she can easily see anyone coming. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with me," she says, noting the man's wary expression and trying to meet it with an open one of her own. Throughout, she does her best to measure his emotions, although it is usually difficult to do so when she is displaying many of her own. Still, she will do her best. "It is a... pleasant surprise to find someone willing to assist me. Please, may we sit down?"

She takes a seat and lets her hands fold atop one another. "I am afraid I do not recall your full name, Mr. Hotchkiss. I will not expect to address you so informally; you would think me presumptuous and trying to affect an air of friendship. I know you--none of you, here--are likely to feel friendly toward those of us who seem to have invaded your employer's vacation house. I tried to warn him..." Kylah shakes her head regretfully. "You saw my attempt to reach him before the others. I did not want this to happen. But it did not work.

"At any rate, this is not about me. If you do not mind, I would like to know your name, more about you. How long have you been involved in security or such work? And how long have you worked for Lord Fastolfe?

"You are not only his bodyguard but his valet, if I recall correctly. You must spend a great deal of time with him, traveling across multiple star systems. Where were you before you arrived here, was it another vacation resort like this? Well... I suppose there are none quite like this. Who else can offer what WR&R--this whole planet--does?" Kylah tilts her head in curiosity. "Were you able to try the spores yourself? I have not been free to do so, as we have been on duty the whole time. I suppose it is similar for you. You might not have been allowed--or am I wrong? Have you been able to enjoy the resort's amenities? Does Lord Fastolfe allow his staff to take some time off while he is not performing or... whatever else he does as part of his celebrity life?"

She will wait for his answer, but when she has a chance, she adds, "Of course I understand you are responsible for his safety, and considering his nature--his stage personality and reputation--as well as your obvious physical strength, not to mention your weaponry, you must have experienced a lot of conflict, and likely are on duty most of the time. But I hope you do have some time on your own. What about when Lord Fastolfe requests some privacy, such as--" Kylah glances shyly down at her hands, and then shifts in her chair uncomfortably. "Well... such as yesterday morning, with the visitors we--we interrupted. You were here then, but I am sure he does not always wish others with him in such circumstances." She looks away again. "I do not want details, please, I just... I just want to know how his household works."

"What about the nightclub? Were you there with him? Some of my crewmates were there that night, but I was elsewhere..." This time her awkwardness is genuine, and she speaks more quickly. "I suppose I most wish to know who might have been here during the time the knives were stolen. You heard what I said to Lord Fastolfe. Perhaps you believe me, even if Ms. Adjetey does not. I think he is being framed, cruelly so. Someone has taken those knives to make him look like a killer. Someone was not content to destroy poor Mr. Wilson, to devastate his family, but also ruin Lord Fastolfe's life as well. You must be outraged at such a malicious scheme. Do you not think it possible someone beamed in and stole them, then beamed out again?"

Her words are rushed and almost imploring. "That seems most likely to me. There is no sign of a break-in, and the knives are obviously not in anyone's possession here. It must be an outside job. Someone who dislikes him, or simply used his reputation in order to perpetrate a horrible crime. Have you met anyone like that? Do you know anyone here at the resort, a guest, who might have some past with Lord Fastolfe--who knows enough about him to know he carries such knives?"

She stares at Hotchkiss with naked concern. "Please, I need help if we are to solve this... and by we, I will fully acknowledge that I do not mean Starfleet." Her voice lowers and her gaze flashes in resentment. "My senior officer talks this possibility up but I do not think he believes the theory; he will use anything to open mouths and get an arrest. And everything I say is amusing to him. He might as well pat me on the head whenever he deigns to acknowledge one of my suggestions. He thinks me naïve, and only a woman barely out of the Academy, and the reason I have been trying in vain to protect Lord Fastolfe must be because I am some starstruck girl--"

Kylah's mouth remains open but silent for a second or two, then snaps shut. She glances at the door, flushes, and tucks her hair behind her ears. Her demeanor changes abruptly. "I am sorry," she mutters. "That was... that was inappropriate. I should not speak that way. It is beside the point." Her back is stiff and she tries to look professional.

"Back to the main issue. What do you think happened to the knives? Do you know any time when there were few people in the house, perhaps only a skeleton staff of one or two? That would be the most likely time for a thief to take advantage of the opportunity, beam into Lord Fastolfe's room, then beam out once more. Was there such a time, and if so, who was here? Mr. Stimmons, for example? I do not believe I have once seen the man, despite his being Lord Fastolfe's personal assistant. He must be kept very busy. Might he have had duties that kept him here while the rest of you were at the nightclub? Do you think he would be willing to speak with me?"

"Means, motive and opportunity. We know the means, one of Fastolfe's knives, so the killer had to have had access to it. But if the quarters were never left alone, no-one outside the guest house would have been able to get in to take one. That only leaves the people there; Fastolfe and his entourage. Do we have a list of the people there and lets compare it to the statements from the nightclub. Who wasn't there, and what times were Fastolfe and company were there until? Fastolfe may have said that the guests house was always occupied, but as he wasn't there for the entire time, there is no way he can state that with any degree of certainty."

Hotchkiss seems cooperative. He says, "My first name is Gene. I've been working in security for 19 years, and for Lord Fastolfe for 11. I've traveled extensively with him, of course. Before we came here, we were touring in the Orraen sector - a concert every day or so, lots of media events, meetings with fans, and so on. I wouldn't mind trying the spores sometime, but for now, I'm working. It can wait. Yes, I get time off regularly - I'm not a slave or anything. I have a lot of fun on this job, and often meet big names, and I'm paid well - very well. I'm not always in the room with him, and of course there are times when he wants to be alone with friends or guests, but when I'm on duty, I'm never far away. I did go with him to the nightclub the night we arrived. I agree that he's been framed, since I'm sure he's not a killer, regardless of his dangerous, tough-guy persona. That's mostly for public consumption. But you should understand his mindset - Starfleet seems to have immediately had him in mind as the prime suspect for Wilson's murder. For all he knows, for all I know, Starfleet is who - or what - is framing him. You seem like a nice person and you do seem to want to help him, but how can he know that for sure? Every time you criticize your own boss like that, I wonder whether he or someone else in Starfleet might have it in for Lord Fastolfe, and is willing to use the power of the government, of the Fleet, to frame him." He thinks a moment. "It's possible someone beamed in... or maybe just beamed the knives out. I don't know how or when it might have happened; we've left this house and then come back several times since we arrived. There are a lot of people who hate my boss, just as there are a lot of crazies who say they love him but would do terrible things to him if they ever had the chance - none here on OC3 that I know about, though. And lots of people know he carries knives and other weapons; it's no secret. Mr. Stimmons does work very hard. I don't know if he'd be willing to talk to you - you'd have to ask him yourself."

Peters and Rangin cross-check the guest list, the staff list, and the witness statements. Including both Fastolfe's entourage and WR&R staff, it appears that there were always at least two people in the guest house even when His Lordship wasn't there, and without exception, at least one of those was part of Fastolfe's staff.

Kylah listens carefully to Hotchkiss's statements. Her muscles are tight with tension, her brows lowered in a frown of effort as she must divide her attention between concentrating on his words, focusing on his emotions, controlling her own, and trying to decide how best to respond, what questions to ask.

But her immediate reaction is an easy one. "Thank you," she says in an exhale, leaning forward to emphasize the emotion. "You--I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your candor. I understand it would be difficult to care, much less sympathize, about what I have been through in order to prevent a miscarriage of justice. Your concerns must be with Lord Fastolfe, justifiably so. But still, it is a tremendous relief to have such information to help me in this task, and I truly appreciate it."

She hesitates. "I do wish to say this. I would be shamefully disloyal--and worse, a vicious liar--if I did not state that I am certain Mr. Graham--and Lt. Collins, who led the investigation before him--want only to find the person who murdered Mr. Wilson. I do not believe they are targeting Lord Fastolfe due to malice. They target him because someone, perhaps even more than one, is making it far too easy to believe your employer is guilty. And I fear their prejudice against him as security officers themselves began with his... his display of that knife to Mr. Wilson. You are extraordinarily experienced in this field; would you not look suspiciously on anyone who brandished a weapon in front of someone you were charged with protecting?"

Kylah rests back a bit, giving a tight shake of her head. "But even though I have never seen Lord Fastolfe before, nor even heard of him to the best of my recollection--forgive me, I led a very sheltered life back on my home planet, and even at the Academy I paid no attention to popular culture--I saw what they did not. That Lord Fastolfe's 'attack' on Mr. Wilson was an extremely unfortunate display of his... what should I call it... performance art? He has a reputation to live up to. I am from a royal family that has its own roles to play, its own masks to wear. In watching Lord Fastolfe that day, I saw a man who was doing so himself. The way the incident about the guest house began and ended so suddenly, I just... I did not believe it. Do you agree? I do not recall you being there, but in your opinion as someone who has known him so many years, does he perform like that? Or would he really have been moved to such anger due to being denied a specific temporary residence?"

Her own words remind her of something she has wanted to ask for a while. "I... this will seem a trivial question under the circumstances, forgive me," she says with a little shrug. "But speaking of royalty, I have been so curious... Is his title a stage name, or is it genuine? I just wonder how much of what he is, who he is, is real. When we were alone together earlier, he was--he was different. Charming. Even warm. Of course I know he is a man of great experience and appetites, and I suppose I..." Kylah does not continue in this vein. She shakes her head again. "I do not know which is the real Lord Fastolfe. I do not expect to know, it is not my place to know, if he does not wish it. I would want to know your opinion, if you feel comfortable enough in giving it. What is he like, at heart?"

"And before I forget, I would like to pick up on something you mentioned--those who might wish to do him harm. When we were alone, he grew somewhat--well--forward... in the way I suppose many of his fans would welcome. And no matter how I denied it, he would not believe I did not come here for... for that," she says tactfully, although embarrassed at relating this event. "I mentioned that I carry a knife--I am an Elasian, it is our custom, much as he carries his own--and he grew almost anxious. Distressed. Could my comment have triggered some memory? Was he ever attacked, or threatened?"

Once he has answered, Kylah takes a moment to draw her thoughts together. She is nearly at the end of their interview--depending on his answer to the following question. "Mr. Hotchkiss, I would like to ask you some names, and see if any of them sound familiar, even if you have not yet seen them here at the resort, and whether they might have had dealings with Lord Fastolfe before. I apologize in advance, it is a long list." Kylah takes a deep breath and looks at him very carefully. Some names are more important to her than others and she keeps her voice as even and uninflected as possible. "Fellim Palver. Rosemary Calvin. Patrick Hardin. Lt. Ebling. Sylvia Aubrey. Mr. and Mrs. Terrence Hutchinson. Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Gold. Vijay Patel. Lionel Hsu. Mattie Hsu. Lucy Anderson. Robert Halsey." Her lips part to add another name but somehow she... cannot. Do not be absurd. This is enough.

After a second of silence, she tilts her head. "Do you recognize any of these, sir? No matter how tangentially you know them, or how briefly you may have heard of them, it would be extremely helpful if you could tell me if they are familiar to you, and in what context."

"The means that were used to carry out the murder...located in Fastolfe's guest house, with one of his staff always there. No way for someone outside to go in and get it without being noticed." Rangin sits back having pored over the data in front of him. "It points to someone in his entourage being the killer as the only ones who would be able to gain access to the murder weapon. The transporter wasn't used at the time Mr Wilson was killed, so anyone getting the weapon would have to enter the house through more mundane methods and we have covered those off."

"Ok, so which of his staff don't have an alibi for last night, considering what time the club closed and if they were visible between the hours of midnight and 12:30 without going anywhere, leaving the club and so on. That would give us a list of people with opportunity. Then we just have to figure out the motive. I wonder if Mr Wilson knew any of them in advance of them coming here? Fastolfe said this was his first visit. Is that true for the rest of his staff?"

Hotchkiss says, "I wouldn't say I'm 'extraordinarily experienced,' but I have enough experience to do my job and, I think, to do it well. Lord Fastolfe does, as you say, sometimes 'perform' in some situations. He has a reputation to live up to, and he tends to do what he thinks he has to, to keep up that reputation. It keeps him in the public eye, it sells his music, and it gets people buying tickets. But from what I heard him say, he really was very upset about not getting the guest house he wanted. You know, he just doesn't like hearing the word 'no.' I wasn't there when he pulled the knife on Wilson. He can be charming and warm, as you say, but he can also be hot-tempered and impulsive. He's a member of the Proxima Centauri aristocracy, and both his name and his title are genuine. He has been attacked, at least twice that I know of, although never while I was guarding him. He has been threatened many, many times."

He listens to the names which Kylah mentions: Fellim Palver. "The tycoon, right? I hear he's here on OC3, too." Rosemary Calvin. "The author - also here." Patrick Hardin. "Don't know him." Lt. Ebling. "Him, either." Sylvia Aubrey. "Ditto." Mr. and Mrs. Terrence Hutchinson. "No, sorry." Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Gold. "Sorry, still drawing a blank." Vijay Patel. "Same." Lionel Hsu. "Is that the local security guy for WR&R? Met him once." Mattie Hsu. "His wife, I think? The number two person here? I think I met her once, too, briefly." Lucy Anderson. "Don't know her." Robert Halsey. "Sounds familiar, but I can't place the name."

Peters says to Rangin, "The transporter might have been used before Wilson was killed, or after. I don't think we can tell from the records." He crosschecks the witness statements and security reports. "I don't see anyone lacking at least some kind of alibi during that period. If there were a conspiracy, though, I suppose one might vouch for the other. Aaaand... it looks like this was the first visit to OC3 for everyone in his group."

Nodding, Kylah straightens in her chair once more. "I see. Thank you. I know I am saying that a lot, and perhaps my gratitude seems excessive, but... really, it is a measure both of your own cooperation as well as just how uncooperative others have been.

"I have just a final pair of questions and then I will take up no more of your time. You have already been so generous. Do you know where one might find Mr. Stimmons now? And I just realized, I do not think you mentioned whether he was among the group with you and Lord Fastolfe while you were at the nightclub. Not that I blame you for forgetting to answer; I have asked you so very many questions..." She gives a small apologetic smile. "But do you remember if he was there? And for that matter, who in particular was not?"

"Thought the transporters logs were pulled, Lt Delaney pulled the power records. It was after the murder. Otherwise you are looking at someone else...else...Oh, oh, I cannot believe I missed that."

Rangin bangs his cup hard down on the table.

"Fastolfe has a set of knives with a unique chemical composition and are supposed to come in a set of three. Probably easy to scan for, lock on to and remove. So, if you didn't know any better you would teleport out three knives and consider that you had the entire set."

Rangin considers the ramifications of what he just said.

"Someone knew he had the knives, but didn't know that we had not only confiscated one, but that he had a larger set. Someone thought they were getting the whole bunch. It has to be someone who knew about the knives, but new nothing specific, or perhaps anything about the incident with Mr Wilson."

"Of course, if we can't find the knives now, it's probably because they aren't on the planet at all."

Rangin was hoping that he was correct, otherwise, he was going to look an idiot....and speaking of idiots.

"Ens Rangin to Ens. Graham. I think I have a theory you might like to hear."

Graham's about to go check on Kylah when Rangin hails him.

He moves to a spot where by virtue of distance and adjusting volume of his communicator Adjetey and Fastolfe shouldn't be able to overhear the conversation and replies "I'm all ears, Mr. Rangin."

Hotchkiss says, "Dan Stimmons, Lord Fastfolfe's personal assistant, isn't here right now. I forget where he went - maybe shopping?" He thinks. "The people who went with Fastolfe to the nightclub that night were Adjetey, Stimmons and me. Paula Goldman, the publicist, said she was feeling tired and stayed here."

Before Rangin calls Graham, WR&R Security officer Peters says, "That could be. But the knives were side by side in the same box, weren't they? A transporter scan would almost certainly show you all five, or four, or however many actually were there at that time, and not just the three you, er, someone might've been looking for."

"Shopping?" Kylah repeats softly, her voice revealing a hint of surprise and near-wonder as she looks across at Hotchkiss but adds almost to herself: "Yes. Of course. That would be something one would do at a resort." After a pause, she shakes her head. "Our focus is so entirely on this murder... It has been easy to forget that this is still a vacation spot, and that for most, life here goes on, spent in pleasurable activities."

Standing, she thanks Hotchkiss for what feels like the dozenth time. "I apologize for taking up so much of your time. Should you think of anything to add that might be helpful, I hope you will feel comfortable telling me or one of my crewmates." She hesitates on her way out the door and glances back. "In particular, if you could try to remember where you might have heard the name 'Halsey,' that would be greatly appreciated." Kylah gives Hotchkiss a small smile of farewell and leaves the room.

She intends to report to Graham, but sees that he is listening to his communicator. She catches his gaze if possible and nods, a silent affirmation that she has finished the interview without any problems. Since he seems busy, she looks over to Fastolfe. After a quick calculation Kylah moves to where he and Adjetey are seated.

"I beg your pardon," she says to both of them, although her eyes rest on Fastolfe as she continues. "I know I said I would not disturb you unless you wished to speak to me. I do not expect you to break your choice of remaining silent, Lord Fastolfe. But I do feel compelled to at least attempt some requests. As unlikely as it is that you will heed them, I... I must." Kylah looks regretfully down at the rock star, and then sits beside him. "Before I do, I should first say that Mr. Hotchkiss has been most helpful. He is perfectly free to tell you anything I asked, or that he answered.

"That said, my first request is... oh, I know it is hopeless," she says, her brows lowered in frustration before she forges ahead. "You know our search warrants cover the premises of this residence, as well as your personal belongings here within. You also know that the Chariot is not covered, and thus we may not enter or search it without permission."

Her gaze presses almost physically into his. "As dim a hope as it is, I wish, I wish you would consider allowing even just two of my crewmates on board. Just for a simple scan, entirely under the eyes of your attorney or trusted security team. Your stolen knives are of unique composition. There are very few places they can have been so completely hidden, and you must see as clearly as I do that for a murderer attempting to implicate you, beaming those weapons onto your ship would be a significant benefit. He or she is likely counting on the fact that we would not be able to search the Chariot. I hope you will consider not letting their venal efforts to succeed by relying on that expectation."

Kylah purses her lips and shakes her head at the futility of asking such a thing of him. She moves on. "The next request is far easier for you to grant, and I hope you will do so. I should like to speak to Mr. Stimmons, when possible. I understand he is not in the house at the present time. If you know where he has gone, could you tell me where he is? Or even ask him to contact Mr. Graham or any of the crew so that we may speak to him?"

"I'm here with Officer Peters in the security office. We've been looking over the security footage and we don't appear to have found any way that someone could physically get to Fastolfe's knives. Can you confirm if there have been any transporter traces there? I have a hunch someone knew exactly what type of knife was there and deliberately took a few of them instead of taking the whole set. Also, I found two encrypted files on the terminal in Mr Wilson's Office that are being investigated as we speak. Files were marked as Co Bd and H S Misc? Would they mean anything to you or Ensign Kylah?"

Rangin sits back and waits for Graham to respond.

There's something of a delay before Rangin comes back at him, and Graham's amused by the thought that the Coridian might not be familiar with the expression. He imagines the xenobiologist giving him a (yet another) look of disapproval. "Mr. Graham," he begins to lecture. "You are most certainly not. The carapace of the Zaxoblablahtican Arglebargle by contrast, is largely covered with auditory receptors, although calling them 'ears' would be a stretch blah blah freaking blah..."

He's called back to the moment by useful news from Rangin.

Graham raises an eyebrow. "Yes indeed, Mr. Rangin - we did find a transporter trace in the house. Good work. As to the files -- first sounds like 'company board,' no? Not sure about the latter...the mysterious 'H file maybe...'" He looks around for Kylah. "Ah, stand by a moment, I'll see if Mr. Kylah is free."

In the silence as Kylah pauses, she is almost certain she hears Graham say her name during his conversation. The worry that he might come over here and end up interrupting her, very possibly causing another rift with Fastolfe, makes Kylah hurry on, not waiting for a response to her question about Stimmons. That can wait. This most assuredly cannot.

She leans forward automatically, then it strikes her that she has not been this close to him since they were alone together. She flushes and draws back a bit, not due to fear but regret, remembering her rash reaction to his... overtures. What a disastrous error--if she had not offended or even frightened him so, how much more willing might he be to cooperate?

Forcing away her thoughts, Kylah pushes on, her voice low and intense. "My final request is the most vital, and I beg you to listen. You must consider very seriously that the loss of those knives strongly implies that someone known to you, whether it is someone with access to this house or knowledge of your actions, is involved in this murder. This person could be the sole criminal, or more likely, one who has been induced to conspire against you.

"Lord Fastolfe, I cannot stress enough that this means you are in danger. Not just legal danger, but... perhaps even worse." Her hand instinctively starts to reach out but she stifles the impulse. "So please. Please, whether you agree with me or not, my request is that you at least take this one precaution: Do not let yourself be left alone with anyone on your staff, no matter who it is--or what level of trust they try to impress upon you," she continues with a stubborn lift of her chin, purposely avoiding looking at Adjetey. "Remain with a group of others at all times. Nor should you allow any strangers to have intimate access to your--to your person." She is embarrassed but talks through her discomfort. "This is extraordinarily presumptuous of me, I know. I understand you have no reason to believe me other than your knowledge of what I have said and done. But I swear there is no profit to Starfleet, and most assuredly none for me, if anything were to happen to you. To the contrary I am trying to ensure nothing does."

She stands up again, then adds with equal emphasis: "And were I you, I would question the motives of anyone who disagreed you should take these precautions. Such a person would have to be either a fool--or a knave. Perhaps a deadly one." Afraid her point will be lost by objections from Adjetey, Kylah rushes her words: "I must speak with the mission commander now. If you do get in touch with Mr. Stimmons, please let me know--and if you do consider agreeing to my first request, do not hesitate to contact me or any of the crew."

One last sincere look at Fastolfe and Kylah turns and walks toward Graham, her eyes aimed at the floor as she tries to run through what she just said. Was she able to get through to the rock star? He is so impossible to predict; despite moments of reason, he sometimes seems to think himself invulnerable--his insistence that no judge would issue a search warrant being the perfect example. Perhaps that was only a bluff, an attempt to look confident to win her over to his advances? She cannot trust in that. A sigh escapes her. I have done all I can.

She nears Graham and looks up, wondering if he is done with his conversation so that she may report on Hotchkiss.

Adjetey and Fastolfe say nothing to Kylah, but begin talking quietly as soon as she steps away.

"Understood," comes Rangin's reply as he waits for Graham to talk to Kylah.

While waiting for the reply, he sends a communication back to the research station to the lead Doctor who looked at the samples for him asking kindly if she could check that all the samples held in the research station are accounted for and if they have any further ideas on what might have caused the loss of effect. Rangin details some of Dr Halseys findings, or lack thereof and hopes that they may be able to help.

Graham frowns noticing Kylah's interaction with Fastolfe.

I asked her to be 'good cop,' not give the guy a freaking blowj--

He checks himself: he's thinking 100% metaphorically, but realizes that the slightest slip into the kind of colorful language he might use with, say, Mahmoud would precipitate an utter disaster in the current context.

Nonetheless, he's concerned when he starts to connect observations together: on the one hand, maybe her eagerness to prove herself is influencing her decision-making too much. On the other, there have been the interactions with Ferguson, and this Jan character...and that's just what I've seen, he thinks, and it's not like we're best friends...

"Stand by another minute, Mr. Rangin," he says as Kylah seems to finish whatever she was saying to the pair.

He clears his throat and moves to address Fastolfe and Adjetey. "You've been, ah...reasonably...cooperative, so I'll try to impinge on your vacation, such as it is, as little as necessary. Once the physical search is complete, I'd still like the team to take statements..." He adds hastily, "Ah, from anyone willing to do so, of course, but there's no need to limit your movement, and the Security team does not need to conduct them inside the house." He nods to the two of them. "Of course if you would like to speak further, we welcome your cooperation," he adds with neither sarcasm nor enthusiasm as he doesn't expect anything further, but sees no need to provoke Fastolfe.

He relays this to the other Security officers and then asks Kylah, "If we're done here, would you join me outside?"

Kylah just has time to take in the fact that Graham's conversation is apparently with Velir--Has he found something? Is he all right?--before Graham passes her by completely to move toward Fastolfe and Adjetey. Blinking, she takes a hesitant step back in that direction, alarm flaring up.

But Graham's comments are unusually neutral, even reasonable. Kylah relaxes and responds with a willing "of course, sir" to his request. With a parting nod to Fastolfe and his attorney, she follows the Security Officer toward the house's exit.

On the way, she speaks softly as she tries to match his longer strides, "That was well done, sir. Hopefully we might get more cooperation... I tried again to seek his assistance, just now, and also warned him to be careful not to be alone--I am so worried about the implications of all this. He does not seem to recognize them himself." She looks up but Graham is probably not willing to say anything in front of the others. For some reason she feels the need to fill in the silence. "The Hotchkiss interview was useful. I was expecting you to join us but I think it was best that you did not. I would have reported right away but you were on the communicator, so I thought I might take one last chance to..."

Her voice trails off because she is getting a strange emotional sense from him. Annoyance? Frustration? What could be causing it? Did the rest of the team find somethig in the house? Why is he leaving Velir on the other end of the apparently open communicator? Is there something Graham must say to both of them? Kylah's forehead wrinkles in concern and she falls silent.

"Ah, why don't you take a walk with me, Ensign, over here," Graham says to Kylah, gesturing off in a direction where they could talk privately. "Oh--first..." He realizes Rangin's still waiting on the communicator. "Mr. Rangin's found files in Wilson's office--'Co Bd and H S Misc'--ring any bel-- I mean, do those names mean anything to you?"

Kylah frowns as they walk and Graham speaks to her. She almost stops short when he mentions Velir, and then the names Graham recites widen her eyes. "H again!" she blurts. "These are... these are two separate files? What is in them?" She barely gets the words out before she makes an exasperated sound and shakes her head. "Stupid. They must be encrypted or Velir would not have asked about the names. C-O B-D? Company board, corporate board, surely? Do we even know who is on the WR&R board of directors?" She focuses on the second of the two names. "H S Misc. You may remember I have looking for Hs, Mr. Graham. The message I discovered that Mr. Wilson sent himself the night he died, at 23:03? He said, Check on backup H. file - keep with secure docs. The H file... this might be it."

She stares at the ground while her mind rushes to consider this new information. "But then there is the S. It might be short for something innocuous after all. H..S... Hotel Staff? Hospital Staff? Hospitality Services? Hotel..." A word flashes in her mind, and Kylah looks up at Graham, her lips parted in a quick inhale. "Hotel Security? Could they be schematics of the security systems? Could the theory be true after all, that Mr. Wilson undermined the resort's security system to hide his affair, to hide some other secret activity? We must decrypt that file, sir. Has Velir sent it to Lt. Garcia? Oh, of course he has. He would." She smiles distractedly; she is as sure of this as anything.

"Assuming this file and Mr. Wilson's message are connected, assuming Mr. Wilson was going to meet someone soon and sent himself a reminder to ensure that this file was safe, this might be the most important piece of evidence we have. If the H is a person... there are so many. Halsey. The Hsus. The Hwuen. Even--even Admiral Hardin," she adds with a lowered voice. "I do not like to say it, sir, but it seems to me that of everyone on that list, the Admiral is the only one whom Mr. Wilson would have had to meet secretly."

Kylah hopes she does not sound as if she is rambling. "But we still need an explanation for how those knives disappeared, how anyone even got them. Mr. Stimmons--that is Fastolfe's personal assistant. Someone with such access to Lord Fastolfe's house must be suspected. He was not back there," she says with a nod at the house house. "Hotchkiss told me he did not know where Stimmons was. I did ask Lord Fastolfe to let me know where he is, or to have him contact me. I think he might agree to that. Lord Fastolfe, that is. It was not an unreasonable request, and I think he might be inclined to trust me now..." She blinks at the coincidence. "And of course Stimmons is an 'S.'"

Rangin listens in on the background noise through the communicator, or rather the listener. Communication is definitely not Graham's strong point.

"I think I've been forgotten," Rangin asides to Officer Peters, "could you find out if anyone else went near the safe holding Fastolfe's knife after it was placed there?"

As he starts listening in again, he smiles at the faint sound of Kylah's voice.

Graham listens carefully to Kylah, noting the commendable attention to detail--but at the same time, her manner and her eagerness makes him more worried about--how to describe it? Her situation and the incidents with men on mission and on the ship he's observed...

She's young, from a planet bareley represented in Starfleet, and apparently with few friends or much of a support system: she seemed close to T'Var, at least, and maybe Rangin... On the other hand, he thinks, Rangin's hissy fit had been one factor stopping from me from putting the kibosh on the whole Jan Whatever-his-name-is fiasco when we saw the video feed in the security office. With friends like that...

Not that I can blame anybody but me for what I did or didn't do, he thinks. That thought inspires a certain feeling of dread: do I want to deal with this now?

The answer seems clear: your options are act now or wait and just hope nothing (more) bad happens.

"Did you catch that, Mr. Rangin," he says after Kylah finishes speaking. "Getting that 'h file' decrypted is definitely a priority. As is talking to Stimmons--but we'll worry about that."

Graham quickly opens the channel of his communicator to notify all the Yorktown staff on premise at the resort that he'd like to be notified of Stimmons' location if anyone becomes aware of it.

Then he returns to Rangin. ""Ah, by the way, sorry to keep you waiting==was there anything else?"

Dr. Lucy Anderson, at the Starfleet research station, confirms that all spore samples there are accounted for. She does not take issue with any of Dr. Halsey's informed speculation as to why some of the guests lost the spores' effect, but has no alternative theory of her own.

Ens. Rawlings asks Graham, "Don't you want us to check upstairs and in the basement of the guest house, sir?"

Lord Fastolfe and Adjetey decline to make statements. Adjetey adds, "My client respectfully declines to permit you to search his ship without a warrant."

Officer Peters checks the resort's records and says, "Three people went into the vault after the placement of Fastolfe's knife there that afternoon, two guests and one staff member. Neither of the guests have reported having the spores quit on them, or appear to have any connection with the murder."

The other Yorktown Security officers on the planet acknowledge that they're to keep an eye out for Stimmons, whose image and identifiers are shared with all by communicator or tricorder.

"No, that's fine, nothing else from me at this moment. Lt Ramirez is already looking at decrypting the files and will let me know when he has finished. All the spore samples in the area are accounted for, both at the resort and the research station. All we have are two missing knives and a victim. If I find anything else, such as the location of Mr Stimmons, I will let you know. Rangin out." replies Rangin.

As he puts the communicator away, he looks back at Officer Peters. "So, with all this surveillance, let's put it to good, proper, official use. We are looking for a Mr Stimmons, who is supposed to be shopping somewhere in the resort and is required for questioning. Do you think we can find him?" Rangin brings up the details and shares them.

After Rangin signs off, Graham replies to Rawlings. "Sorry Mr. Rawlings, I wasn't clear. Yes, please finish the search but don't take longer than strictly necessary."

Graham realizes he feels professionally obligated to speak with Kylah now and nothing appears to be standing in the way. Nonetheless he glances skyward for a moment, hoping to spot, oh, something like a Klingon invasion force.

Kylah watches Graham sign off with first Rangin, then Rawlings, and then they are alone. And yet he says nothing to her. Her frown deepens. Does he not know what to do now? Has he forgotten she is here?

"Sir?" she says expectantly, her head tilting toward him. "Did... did you wish to hear my report on the Hotchkiss interview? I found him constructive if not especially illuminating. I appreciated that he offered a fairly balanced view of his employer. Neither fawning nor embittered. He seemed to acknowledge Lord Fastolfe's flaws--his temper, his self-absorption--while also explaining some of them as being what I expected: performance. Living up to expectations."

Kylah tries to discern the expression on Graham's face. He seems distracted. She goes on hurriedly. "He confirmed that Lord Fastolfe told him, and presumably the others on his staff, of the altercation between him and Mr. Wilson. So anyone in that house might have known to use the incident, if they wished. Of course, if one of the other people at the induction was a co-conspirator..." Kylah does not add such as Admiral Hardin, as she is not yet sure of Graham's thoughts on this theory yet. "Well, they would already have had the necessary knowledge required to frame Lord Fastolfe, if that is what happened. The staff member, if one was involved, might have provided the means."

She pauses, still trying to think why Graham wanted to get so far from the house. She supposed it was a good precaution if they were to discuss Fastolfe himself. But why did he not include any of the others on the team? Dobson did not seem to be involved in the search...

"I am disappointed but not surprised that Lord Fastolfe has refused my request to allow one or two of us to scan his ship for the weapons. Oh, I ... I do not think I mentioned that I made a final attempt for him to see reason on that, but I did. Quite honestly I think if Ms. Adjetey had not been there, he might have responded differently. He was inclined favorably to me when we were first alone. I did try, and I know it would be in his best interest, but he did not take me seriously. He seemed to think I was bluffing in order to..." Kylah realizes she had better elide over Fastolfe's advances and her blundered response. "I... I mean he seemed aware I had an ulterior motive," she says, truthful but not entirely candid. "I only hope he does listen to the rest of my suggestions. Then again, few others have. I am sorry I could not obtain his compliance, sir."

She gnaws at her lip, feeling more and more discomfort at Graham's silence. "Um... getting back to Mr. Hotchkiss. The final facts from the interview: on the night of the murder, Mr. Hotchkiss, Lord Fastolfe, Ms. Adjetey and the mysterious Mr. Stimmons were all at the nightclub together. Only an employee named Paula Goldman was absent. Later, when I mentioned as many of the involved parties as I could to him--I admit focusing on the H names--one that he remembered hearing of was Dr. Halsey. Yet Lord Fastolfe did not remember that name himself. I suppose an experienced security officer would have a better memory of hotel staffers than a man such as Lord Fastolfe. And Hotchkiss is quite experienced. You might appreciate that. He has nineteen years behind him, with eleven spent working for Lord Fastolfe. Whose title, as a complete aside, happens to be legitimate, as it turns out. I thought it was a stage affectation, but no: he is nobility on his home planet. Perhaps that explains his attitude even more than his rock star profession does."

Kylah is uncertain if attempt to engage Graham's humor has failed or not. She ends her recitation and shifts awkwardly in place. "Forgive me for going on so, sir. Did you have a new assignment? Did you learn something while there? What did you wish to speak to me about?"

Peters says to Rangin, "Sorry, I couldn't help overhear you. I thought there were three missing knives - from a set of five, one is the murder weapon, one is in the vault, and three were missing from the display box, right?"

He inputs Stimmons's image and runs a facial-recognition program through the resort's surveillance camera system. In less than a minute, he finds Stimmons emerging from the pharmacy just off the main lobby, and apparently headed back towards the guest house.

Rawlings says to Graham, "Acknowledged, sir. I want to check on that transporter signature upstairs, especially."

Rangin says nothing while they are finding Stimmons and then opens his communicator. "Rangin to Graham, Mr Stimmons is currently leaving a pharmacy and heading back to your location. You may wish to head him off or wait until he arrives back at your guest house."

Rangin then leans back in the chair and looks directly across at Officer Peters. "Also, please can you carry out one very important scan. Can you confirm that the knife left in Lord Fastolfe's case is, in fact, one of his knives and not a replica. Officer Peters, here in security, seems to believe that we are looking for three knives instead of two. I'll wait for the check thanks."

Rangin coldly smiles back across at Officer Peters, "perhaps you might like to elaborate further on that statement about the knives..."

"What did you wish to speak to me about?" Kylah had asked.

Graham actually has his mouth open when he hears Rangin's voice alerting him to Stimmons' location. Relief washes over him. You probably wouldn't appreciate it, and you definitely wouldn't expect it, but I could kiss you right now, Mr. Rangin, he thinks.

"Ah...well, it, ah, it'll have to wait, right now I think we'd benefit from intercepting Stimmons before he reaches the house." He gestures in the appropriate direction. "Shall we?"

Although Kylah is happy to hear that Stimmons has been found, her frown only deepens. Whatever Graham wishes to speak to her about, he is very glad to put it off--she hardly needs any empathic sense to notice the relief in his eyes. What in the name of the Tellun system can this mean? Does he have bad news to deliver?

She nods tightly. "Whatever you wish, sir, if it is something that you cannot just tell me now," she says as she starts off, each word careful and attempting to hide her growing worry. "I will find it useful to hear Mr. Stimmons's version of events. Perhaps we will at last have an explanation for who is responsible for those knives ending up missing. If he turns out to be a possible conspirator, this might cross Lord Fastolfe off, if nothing else."

"So, ah, how are you settling in on the Yorktown?" Graham asks as they walk, trying to gather some information on what might be going on with Kylah. "Do you have family--are they, ah... supportive of your career in Starfleet?"

He tries to look as disarming and non-threatening (as in, he thinks ruefully, "I won't grab you and carry you across the room unexpectedly") as he can while doing so.

Kylah barely avoids giving Graham a sidelong look. He could have picked two worse topics of conversation, very true; but he would have had to work at it.

"I have not had much time to settle in yet, sir. I was sent on my first mission less than a week after I was posted, and this one only a few days after we returned. Indeed I might have spent more time in quarantine than in my quarters. Not that I am complaining, I was there shorter than others. I was injured but Dr. T'Var healed me during the mission. But one of us still lies at the edge of death--Lt. Fujishiro--and Velir was brutally attacked as well. He could very well have died..."

She blinks away the brief swell of numb horror at the memory. "From what I have seen on board the ship, things run smoothly and the crew are all..." Her voice nearly falters. Graham knows she is not the most popular member of the ship--if only from what he has seen of her and Collins, not to mention Ferguson. Who knows what Collins has said? "The crew are all very skilled. Lt. Thalen is both extremely capable and amiable as a supervisor, I could not be more fortunate."

She swallows and looks straight ahead. "As for family. I have a younger sister, Ditraa, who is sixteen. Then there is my brother Tellun, His Serenity the Dohlman Ascendant." After a second she realizes he might not understand the term--few humans do. "That means... you see, His Serenity is only thirteen, and he must be guided and taught by the Regency Council of Nobles. Only as an adult will he finally take on his appointed role as true Dohlman.

"I am not in close contact with either His Serenity or Her Grace Ditraa. Our ages have always created a distance..." The falsehood trails off somewhat weakly, then she starts again. "But I have been told that my association with Starfleet pleases His Serenity, which is my duty and joy as his subject."

Kylah walks a few steps before adding quietly: "Finally there is my uncle, the head of the Regency Council. And my Guardian as well. It was he who did all he could to afford me the opportunity to join the Academy, even before Elas became a member of the Federation. He is proud and extremely supportive of my ability to represent our planet and show fealty to our new partners. His success and my own will always be entwined. None of this would have happened without him."

None of it. None of it. She is certain nothing will ever happen that is not, in some way, his doing.

She inhales deeply. "And what of you, sir? I would ask about your acclimation to the ship, but since your posting, you too have spent as much time off the Yorktown as on it." Kylah is uncertain whether to ask about his own family. If he is anything like her, it is not a pleasant subject. Then again... he brought it up. "I do not wish to be presumptuous but I would be interested to hear of your own people." Even as the words leave her lips, she notices someone in the distance. Is that Stimmons?

Peters looks at Rangin and shrugs. "Must've gotten the details wrong; misremembered one of the reports, I guess. Sorry."

Ens. Rawlings, in the second-floor master bedroom of the guest house with his Security tricorder, scans the knife still in the case. He soon reports via communicator, "Its readings match the murder weapon and the earlier-seized knife quite closely, sir. I think this is part of the set. And there are actually two very faint transporter signatures in the room - one on the knife case, and the other on the bedside table."

From their earlier view of his WR&R guest file, Graham and Kylah recognize Dan Stimmons, Lord Fastolfe's personal assistant, approaching through the park near the guest house. Stimmons is alone and carrying a bag. He does not seem to have noticed the two Starfleet officers yet.

Show fealty to our partners? My duty and joy as his subject?

Graham listens attentively, keeping his expression neutral but with increasing concern. It's not as if I should expect Elas to be like Earth but what the hell...this sure could be a reason why she might have issues with...boundaries and men, he thinks. And proving herself if it kills her.

Granted, he thinks, every culture is different. He remembers an incident when a Vulcan had objected to his orders on the basis that risking additional lives to recover battlefield casualties on the principle "no one gets left behind" was illogical and inefficient. He'd told him in no uncertain terms he could shove that opinion up his green-blooded ass, and if he was insufficiently flexible to manage it himself Graham would be happy to oblige.

Still her implicit characterization of Elasian culture sound like...a recipe for an "interview" involving some rich schmuck crawling all over you... He can't help but grit his teeth. If I had known all this the other night...

He's grateful Rawling's interruption gives him a moment to think. "Two signatures?" he replies. "Good work, Rawlings. Scan the hell out of that room, visual and tricorder. Brief Mr. Rangin and transmit all your readings to him, see if this gives him any ideas."

He clears his throat and replies to Kylah. "Ah, I've served with Mahmoud before, nice to see a familiar face. And..." he pauses a moment. "I have a...I have a daughter, about your age."

He says it but wishes he could take it back, since the logical next thing would be for Kylah to ask about her...and he's really not sure what to say. Then he sees Stimmons. "Ah-ha," he says, a little unnaturally loudly, "there's our boy. Maybe it's our lucky day and the missing knives are in the bag. Let's find out."

Kylah looks at the approaching personal assistant. She is trying to decide whether Graham having a daughter is a surprise or not. Is this person a female version of her father, a judgmental bully? No wonder he is close with Collins.

"Mr. Stimmons was at the pharmacy," she says softly in response to Graham's comment about the knives, as well as hearing Rawlings's report. "And something was taken from Lord Fastolfe's bedside table... One often keeps medicines at near reach, is that not true? My mother did. What else does one keep at close hand? Personal items... a weapon, but we have not recovered any other than the knife. A photograph? He does not seem so sentimental."

Kylah tightens her lips in annoyance. "How foolish of me not to have asked Fastolfe if anything else was missing. We should have had him check his room once we discovered the knives were gone. We were just upstairs, I was right there. It did not even occur to me." She shakes her head and looks again at Stimmons. "I guess we shall see. Have we the right to search his bag, or is that exempt from the warrant?"

Rangin thanks Ens Rawling for the follow up and then turns back to Officer Peters.

"Officer Peters, seeing as I mentioned not five minutes ago that we were looking for three and not four knives and that one was left behind, perhaps you would like to get a copy of that report, just for clarification's sake. Not to mention that you have twice said that we were looking for three knives, when in reality, we know where three of them are and are only looking for two. Given that is the murder weapon we are talking about, I'd like to err on the safe side."

Rangin isn't sure whether Peters is hiding something or has made a genuine error, but he would definitely like to see how the Security team came to find out as it wasn't mentioned to them last night.

"Well son of a bitch," Graham says with genuine enthusiasm, smiling at Kylah. "We have a warrant for property and persons at the house, it's a much better idea to let him get back to the house..."

He takes her shoulder--forgetting she'd said earlier 'never touch me again'--ad gently draws her back and away from Timmons' direction. "We'll follow...maybe you'll get your chance to ask Fastolfe if anything is missing, right before we pop open that bag in Stimmons' hands..."

He moves away from Stimmons, intending to stay out of sight but follow him to the house. "Kjaerstad, Rawlings, Dobson...the search of the house must continue until we get there...by hook or by crook. But stay out of sight of the foyer, make whatever excuse you need to not be there for the next few minutes."

Peters nods. "I understand. Sorry about the goof. I must be tired."

Kjaerstad, Rawlings and Dobson each acknowledge their orders from Graham.

Kylah can see that Stimmons has noticed her and Graham - redshirted Starfleet personnel are not especially inconspicuous - but he looks away, avoiding eye contact, and keeps walking towards the guest house.

Kylah clamps her teeth down on her lips to prevent herself from ordering Graham to get his slab of a hand off her. She suffers the touch even as he pulls her aside, watching Stimmons until he enters the house. Once he is inside, she winces her shoulder free and walks quickly back to Fastolfe's residence. "If you can manage it without being aggressive, sir," she says in a hushed but pointed voice while she starts jogging, "do not allow Stimmons to be alone in the bedroom. It is just barely possible he is replacing whatever went missing."

She arrives at the door. Can they just enter like state police without respect for the niceties of ringing the chime and waiting to be invited in? Whatever the procedure, she will do as necessary and will, she hopes, be allowed to speak to Lord Fastolfe without a crowd nearby. She does not expect Ms. Adjetey to leave his side, but she hopes Graham will let her ask in private, and she would also wish to speak with him without Stimmons.

"That's understandable, the last day or so has been stressful for everyone." Rangin nods understandingly at him, the smile not leaving his face. "I'd still like to see the report though, if you wouldn't mind."

Peters turns back to his computer terminal. "Let's see... um... Ah, yes, here it is. Mr. Hsu's daily security summary from last night. It mentions the knives. The numbers are as you mentioned - two still missing."

As there are still three Starfleet officers on the guest house premises while a search is being conducted pursuant to the warrant, Kylah believes that she can lawfully walk right in, and does. The main entryway is empty. She sees no one there but Stimmons, who is already halfway up the stairs to the second floor. He turns to look at her, and seems surprised. He stops. "Yes?" he says, his voice cracking a little. "Can I help you?"

Graham enters right behind Kylah.

Kylah takes a couple of automatic steps toward the assistant, her hand reaching up slightly as if she can somehow will that bag away from his grasp. "Excuse me. You are Mr. Stimmons, I believe?" She introduces herself and Graham without looking away from Stimmons. "I do not know if you have been informed, but we are conducting an authorized search of the house at the moment, and interviewing the staff as well. We have already spoken to Lord Fastolfe and Ms. Adjetey, as well as Mr. Hotchkiss. Could you come down here, please? Our security officers are busy upstairs, and it is probably best if you do not... get in their way."

She is not happy about the implied threat, but decides to think of it as a well-intentioned warning instead. Again she takes a step forward and makes a beckoning motion with her hand. If only her powers were telekinetic rather than empathic. "Please, sir. Mr. Graham has some questions for you--just to complete the rounds of questions we are asking everyone in the house."

With a swift motion she moves aside so that Graham has a direct path to Stimmons. Then, taking a last look at Graham, she darts off to find Fastolfe as quickly as possible.

Graham nods acknowledgment of Kylah, although he has no idea where the hell she's going or why she's in such a hurry.

But her set up with Stimmons was just fine.

Graham smiles. "As my colleague said, we executing a search warrant for this premises and its occupants. Why don't you come down and join me in the foyer and we can take care of this real quick?" he says politely, although as he does this he shifts his stance to slightly at an angle, his left foot firmly planted one step lower than his right, just in case Stimmons decides to do something foolish.