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

To Kylah everything around her and Jan seems to recede into a blur, as if Velir and the others have suddenly been shrouded by fog. Only the firm, warm touch of Velir's fingers entwined with hers reminds her that he is still nearby.

"I am well, thank you." How does she get the hoarse words out from her constricted throat? Yet she manages. Of course, they are far from the truth--five minutes earlier, the answer would have been 'blissful' but that was too long ago to remember. "I--I am here to..." To what? What can I possibly say to him? When her words falter, her eyes shift to try to see his companions, anything to change focus from those ice-blue eyes that seem almost transparent in the starlight. But something makes her afraid to look away from him. Like trapped prey eyeing its stalking predator. Do not be foolish. You initiated this discussion. And he will do nothing, he is not violent. Jan is suave and courtly--well, he has been, most of the time, but now, something feels different.

She starts again. "I wanted to tell you I am leaving. We are." Unconsciously she squeezes Velir's hand for strength. As self-conscious as she is about Velir's apparent determination to hold onto her, she is now glad of it. It is proof he is here, not miles away. "Our investigation is over. And when I saw you, I thought..." I thought I was drowning, she thinks, but instead manages to croak: "I--I though that since I do not expect to return again before the ship leaves orbit, I should... I should say goodbye."

"Gaahhh...no, uh, thank you, Mr. Davis, I, uh, was just heading there myself. Thanks." Graham replies.

Graham sits for a moment, turning the perfume box over in his hands a few times. What the hell are you doing, Booker? He laughs. Ha, don't have an answer, do you?

Well you aren't going to use this yourself or give it to Faisal, he concludes.

He takes the box and heads to the Arbotetum.

Jan's expression brightens considerably. "Ah, well, congratulations, then. I hope you caught the right man... or woman... or, well, whoever. Best wishes to you--" He looks back at Rangin, and smiles a little more persuasively. "--best wishes to you both, and to your crew. So, uh... goodbye, then." He coughs, nods to his companions - one of whom looks oddly at him, and then at the Starfleet pair - and turns away.

Graham takes the turbolift to Deck 22. The Arboretum is well-lit (shipboard "night" hasn't begun quite yet), filled with flowers, bushes and small trees, some of which are bearing fruit. There are several carefully-tended vegetable plots. It is pleasantly fragrant, smelling of green and growing things, of rich soil and clear water. The Security officer wanders the winding paths briefly, passing a man and woman in civilian clothes, arm in arm, before seeing Bennett from behind. She is also in civilian clothes, a faded old dress, and is sitting on a bench among a grove of flowers he doesn't recognize. She is reading, he sees as he gets closer, from an old leatherbound book.

Something rises in Kylah's chest and tightens her lungs at Jan's casual and clearly relieved farewell. She detaches herself from Velir and takes a stride forward to follow Jan, then awkwardly slips in between him and the two strangers.

After pulling him aside so they are slightly removed from the others, Kylah now stands dwarfed by the taller man and stares up at his handsome face.

And she almost immediately regrets it. Because she can sense the spores again. The result is a wave of peace, deceptive and numbing, and because it is so completely apposite to her true feelings it actually sickens her.

With a deep breath of the chilly night air, she shakes her head to clear it. "That is all?" she asks, voice low and pregnant with suppressed emotion. Her gaze is intense: half-disbelief, half-desperate. "You truly have nothing more to say to me?"

Rangin raises an eyebrow at the cough, "Curious, someone on spore therapy showing signs of ill health. He might want to get that checked out." he murmurs to the two gentleman alongside Jan.

As Kylah pulls away, Rangin wonders why she has such urgency now to confront Jan, when only a few moments ago all she seemed to want to do was not be here. What had happened between them. Regardless, a little privacy for them to sort it out would be in order.

"Gentleman, perhaps we should give them a little space." Rangin ushers them back slightly, away from Kylah and Jan. "I don't believe we have been introduced yet: Ensign Velir Rangin, USS Yorktown." Rangin holds out a hand to shake if they are willing. "Have you known Mr Švehla for long?" he inquiries, the soul of polite courtesy.

With her cleared head, and having touched Jan's arm to pull him aside, Kylah concentrates and extends her senses. She realizes that he is not, in fact, under the influence of the spores.

The Czech businessman looks surprised and then a little cross. He says in a low voice, "I thought we had said what we needed to before, Ensign. You made very clear your opinion of what happened between us that night, and that you had no interest in continuing any relationship. That's your decision to make, of course. Now you appear from out of the dark with the man who accosted me in the nightclub, and wish to say goodbye. I don't think there's anything else left to say. And so... goodbye."

He gestures curtly to his two friends, who stood there uncertainly after shaking hands and have not had a chance to answer Rangin, and the three walk off together towards the restaurant.

Oh, well, she seems to be partial to...old things, Booker thinks. He glances at the box, trying to remember what the store clerk had said: "rose perfume from Gordon's of Proxima Centauri...very popular."

Other than the word 'rose,' doesn't mean anything to me, he thinks, shaking his head slightly. But I assume it's good, especially given how much it cost... It occurs to him that it may be too expensive to be a suitable congratulations gift from an acquaintance... Nothing I can do about that now.

Graham clears his throat softly. "Uh, I hope I'm not disturbing you lieut-- ah, Cecilia....What are you reading, if you don't me asking?"

Bennett turns, a little startled, but smiles when she sees it's Graham. She marks her place and closes the book. "Oh, Booker, it's you! Welcome back. This is an old favorite of mine - Three Houses, Ten Lives by Patricia Kiley." Graham has heard of it before; it's an English novel from about fifty years ago. "Did the mission go all right? Is it all over?" She gestures to the bench for him to sit.

Kylah is too stricken to react for a few seconds, for a multitude of reasons. She looks emptily over to Velir. "He says it is my opinion. My opinion," she repeats with disgusted emphasis, as if Velir has the slightest idea what she means. Then she shakes her head as the rest of their interaction filters through her chaotic thoughts. "He says you accosted him in the nightclub," she whispers, turning around to stare at Jan's back. "And what is more... he--he is not--"

Breaking off, she gasps. With a burst of speed she did not think she possessed she runs over to Jan. Once she reaches him she grabs his arm and does not let go.

"What is going on with you?" Kylah demands. "Your entire attitude toward me has changed. You just lied about what I said to you this morning. You know I was wretched enough to thank you, thank you, for being 'gracious' enough to merely listen to the truth--yes, the truth, not just an opinion--about what happened between us. You claim I made it clear I did not wish to see you again, while in fact this morning you expressed every hope that I might choose to be with you again, that you could 'win my love.' As if any of that were possible," she chokes out.

Her glare is aflame with accusation. "Most of all, why are you really so glad our investigation is over--and why are you no longer affected by the spores?!" Her voice sharpens. "Do not dare claim that what I said this morning made you lose their effect. A man who was so confident that I might ever consider being with you again was clearly not shaken enough to extinguish the spores' hold."

He stares at Kylah, and then shakes her off so roughly that she almost loses her footing. He is considerably stronger than her. "No, I am no longer under the influence of the spores. I had that done for me, by the resort staff, a few hours ago, as I no longer cared to be the man I was... then. I see things differently now, much differently. I am glad your investigation is over because now there is no reason I ever need to see you - either of you - again." His eyes narrow. "If I do, or if you touch me again - assault me - your captain, and Starfleet, will hear from my lawyers. So once more, once and for all, goodbye."

With that, he and the others leave.

Rangin can only feel like he is watching some slow-motion crash as Kylah confronts Jan over what happened and his behaviour.

Watching Jan just summon his friends before they have even had a chance to introduce themselves seems petty, although doesn't exactly show them in a good light either. Then again, they seem distracted by what is occurring.

But when Kylah turns round looking absolutely shocked by Jan's reaction and says that Rangin accosted Jan in the nightclub, he begins to wonder what kind of person Kylah had involved herself with. Accosted? Well, Rangin had asked some pointed and personal questions of Jan, but Jan had walked up to their table, not the other way around and Rangin had also profusely apologised afterwards for his error of judgement.

And then, his jaw drops at Kylah's dash and grab of Jan's arm followed by her questions. Jan had lied to her that morning, that morning. Not only that but Jan had wanted to be with her again. Rangin can't quite believe what he is hearing. Kylah's tone of outrage left Rangin stunned, but that is nothing to when he hears Jan's response.

He had had the spores removed because he didn't like the man he was. What kind of man was he...what had he done? Was he really blaming the spores for his actions and that he never wanted to see either of Kylah or Rangin again. What act had he committed that was so bad he couldn't face up to it?

His threat to use lawyers is contemptuous as if, somehow Kylah and Rangin were the guilty parties and he some poor victim, and yet guilt was written clear across his face and from his actions.

Once again, Rangin thinks back to the moment outside the infirmary where he had confronted a sobbing Kylah, who had fled in tears over what had happened to her and then back to this...this...pathetic, narcissistic, victim blaming wretch.

His face still aghast at Jan's actions, he wonders how badly Kylah will take it and what he can do to help. After all, he had persuaded her to talk to him once last time...but this?

Still shaken from Jan's brutish shove, Kylah now feels battered, physically and emotionally. He might as well have slapped her, then slammed his fist into her gut.

She remembers his brief expression of regret during their meeting today. Even that barely-acknowledged remorse had been a lie. He is clear-headed now, free of whatever emotional impulses the spores brought out in him. So this is what Jan Švehla is truly like. Cold. Hard. Cruel.

The suave, gentlemanly exterior was a facade, as manufactured as everything else at this resort.

It explains why he did not stop when she begged him for help. For such a man, all that matters are his needs, his choices, his comfortable existence. When he wanted her, he took her. Now that she is inconvenient, he threatens to break her. To punish her and claim assault. He wants to claim assault. She nearly laughs and has to choke back the encroaching hysteria.

Desperately she tries to make sense of what has just happened. Maybe he is right, at least partly. She pushed this too far. She contacted him this morning, she went up to him just now. Why? Then she remembers. Velir thought it would help. Velir promised me it would help.

An unexpected, frightening swell of resentment rises within her.

But she forces herself away from that treacherous direction, focusing elsewhere. If she did something to deserve this, then she must find out what it is. Because then she can avoid it. After all, this latest disaster is only one of dozens in her life. It cannot be a coincidence.

Something she did, that she is, results in people treating her like this. She must have a damaged, flawed nature that is so visible it might as well be an insignia, an invitation for others to demean her. Perhaps I asked for this, she thinks dully. I wore the dress, I went to his room, I let him take me to his bed, I held him, I did not fight as he stripped me. I even reacted when he touched me, when he was inside me--

She shakes her head and covers her face with her hands.

But I said no.

I. Said. No.

Why was that not enough?

Kylah drops her arms. She cannot bear to be on this deceptively beautiful planet a second longer. She starts walking, stumbling forward. Noticing nothing around her, not even the man she is leaving behind. Somehow her numb fingers find her communicator, flipping it open. "Ensign Kylah to Chief Harrison," she says, almost inaudible. "Beam me back to the ship."

"Acknowledged," Harrison replies from the Yorktown, high above. "Mr. Rangin, would you like to beam up now, too?"

Collins's cabin door buzzes.

It takes a few moments for Chief Harrison's voice to filter through to Rangin.

"Ma'am, please get us out of here." he says unthinkingly while still trying to process what was just said.

"Uh, acknowledged," Transporter Chief Bill Harrison says after a pause. "Stand by."

In moments the two disappear into the glowing beams and find themselves back on the transporter platform. Harrison sees Kylah's obvious distress and asks, "Are you all right, ma'am?"

"Thank you," Kylah says, not answering his question--she barely heard it--while her weak knees struggle to support her as she steps from the transporter pad.

She is conscious of Velir's presence and feels stupid and slow, and somewhat regretful, for having forgotten to wait for him. But he feels so far away. She is tiny, a dot of a star in the vast vacuum of space.

Kylah is too afraid to give Velir more than a brief glance in front of Harrison, unwilling to burst into tears or collapse or reveal any more than she has to. Instead she just aims herself toward the exit and forces her legs to move.

Almost completely cried out, Collins bends down to pick up the jewelry, intending to put both boxes back in the bag, but she stands there, transfixed, staring at the gems. I can't keep these. Why did she buy them for me? she thinks emptily.

Harrison looks at Rangin as if to say, Is everything all right with her?

Collins's cabin door buzzes again.

Startled, Collins stashes the boxes in the bag and puts the bag on the nightstand. "Come." she says as she grabs a tissue to wipe her face.

After all the drama and acrimony of the past couple of days, Graham can't help but return Bennett's apparently sincere smile. His instinctive response masks a concomitant feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach that her response isn't providing an excuse to put off delivering his gift.

He sits a respectful distance away and clears his throat again. "There's something about a real book, isn't there? Not a padd, and not a replicated book, either--the replicated ones are always perfect, no dog-eared pages, no slightly loose binding..." He shrugs and looks off at the trees for moment. "Unique character, I guess."

"Yes, I love old books," she says. "Our house was full of them, growing up."

He clears his throat again before turning back toward Bennett. "But, anyway, the mission--well, it's 'over enough,' I'd say. It wasn't the, ah, smoothest ride, but we uncovered corruption within WR&R, within Starfleet, and took down the billionaire assho-- uh, perpetrator--who's surely been a real bad guy for a real long time." He rubs his chin with his left hand and looks away again for moment. "And the team's all home safe," he adds, frowning slightly. Although not without suffering injuries either physical or psychological, thinking briefly of both Collins and Kylah.

"A follow-up investigative team will wrap things up. I'd bet it takes awhile to dig into the financial chicanery." He brightens and turns back toward Bennett. "And hey, did I mention I was stunned by an exotic weapon and then burned down a historically significant building?" He smiles slightly and shrugs more expansively, in the process waving the box around. "In Navigation I'm sure you have stories about--oh, I don't know, like brilliant application of the principles of astrophyics that save starships, but in Security...well, getting shot, a little property destruction...that's our stock in trade."

She laughs. "Well, you certainly seem to have the proper attitude about it. All in a day's work, hmm? I haven't spoken to T'Var yet" - Graham knows they are cabinmates - "but I'm sure she'll have her own unique take on what happened." She looks at the box. "And what is this...?"

Graham stares at her wordlessly for a moment and blinks, then follows her eyes to the box, as if it had just been surreptitiously beamed into his otherwise empty hand.

"Oh, yeah," he replies, clearing his throat again. "Since we, ah, had just been talking about--celebrating--your promotion before I had to ship out, and I was heading down to a place with ah, convenient gift shops as opposed to some godforsaken hellhole, I thought I would get just a, uh, little something to mark the occasion...so...congratulations!" he replies, offering her the box on his outstretched hand.

Bennett looks mock-reprovingly at him, but takes the box. "Well, Booker, that's very nice of you, but you know didn't have to." She smiles. "Thank you so much, though. I do love surprises." She opens it and her expression softens. "Oh, my - this is lovely! Thank you!" She leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

Graham flushes slightly. "Oh...ah, it's nothing, really, the clerk said it was--well, who am I kidding, what she said was all Greek to me, I don't really know anything about perfume, but I, uh, hope you don't mind, I asked T'Var if there were some kinds of soap or whatever you liked, and the other night you were talking about growing up, and there's a phrase that goes way back...'English Rose.'" He pauses briefly. "So this just seemed to fit. I'm... I'm just glad you like it."

That at least, he can say with one hundred and ten percent certainty and sincerity. Hey, something...someone...you've touched, and it hasn't gone all to hell.

She says, "I'm not sure I'm proper enough, or well-behaved enough, to be considered a proper English Rose - at least, not how I think of the phrase. But I'm flattered that you think me worthy of it."

He smiles slightly, albeit a little sadly: he's truly happy in the moment, but it makes other memories seem all the more bittersweet. He pushes the past from his mind--and his expression--however, and slaps a knee. "Well then, there we go, I wasn't meaning to bug you...I can let you get back to your reading...."

"No, you're not bugging me, not in the least. And the book can certainly wait." Bennett uncaps the perfume and carefully sprays her right wrist, sniffs it, and smiles again. She sprays her other wrist and then rubs them both just behind her ears. Graham can't help but be entranced by the gesture. She holds out a wrist towards him. "Mmm, it's a lovely scent, I think. What say you, O giver of unnecessary but much-appreciated gifts?"

Graham straightens up and adopts a tone of mock seriousness. "Well, well, let us see..." As he looks at her, he feels the weight of the past few days disappearing from his tense neck and shoulders. See, everything in the universe doesn't have to be fucked up and bullshit, Booker...

He very gently takes her hand and brings his nose close enough to sniff. Despite his protestations, he knows at least a little about perfume from past experience: the best don't overpower or mask the personal scent of the wearer, but instead create a blend of both. He forces himself to take only a brief whiff and then lift his head rather than keep trying to make sense of the melange of Gordon's and Bennett.

At the back of his mind he's infinitely grateful rose was not the scent Jane preferred.

"I think the evidence is clear, 'English Rose qualified,' to be sure..." Then he laughs and lightly grips her fingers. "Officer material, I think!"

She squeezes his fingers back, and then lets go. Her eyes are merry. "Thank you, Booker. Starfleet Command will be gratified to have its judgment confirmed by a perfume test, I'm sure."

They talk for awhile more, laughing and at ease in each other's company. In time Graham leaves her there, relieved that she liked the gift and hopeful - more hopeful than perhaps he knows he ought to be - for the days ahead.

(Bennett by EH, Graham by G-U)

Collins's door whisks open, and Ben Cooper is there, looking a little nervous. "Hi. I heard you'd been released from Sickbay. Just wanted to, um, stop by and see how you're doing."

Collins' first impulse is to run to Ben's arms and sob like a child, but she resists. "Come in. I was going to call you and suggest a breakfast meetup." she lies. "I've only been back on duty half a day but I feel like it's been a year since I've had a break." Jeremi hopes her face, and in particular her eyes, are not all red and puffy. "I was going to turn in early, but we can talk a while, if you'd like."

"Sure," he says. "If you're up to it. May I come in?"

"Yes, please." Collins sits on her bunk and motions for Ben to sit on Kylah's. Once they're both seated, she says "I'm sorry I didn't call you right away, but the landing party was due back and I wanted to be there to greet them."

"I understand," Cooper says. "How are you feeling? Are you doing all right? I was worried about you. Do you feel up to a full return to duty?"

"Physically, I feel fine. Just," Collins doesn't want to finish that sentence, but if she can't trust Ben... "My emotions have been all over the place. Getting back to my normal routine will be the best thing for me." She looks across at the man who would have been the father of her child, and suddenly finds she's not as cried out as she thought she was. Jeremi gets up and turns away from Ben. "I'm sorry. My nerves are still very raw. I can't even imagine the loss you feel."

He rises and takes her into his arms. "Shh. It's OK. Don't worry about me, Jer; you're the one who's been through the wringer." He strokes her hair gently.

Jeremi buries her head in Ben's chest, allowing herself to be enveloped by his embrace. After several minutes she looks at his face, and kisses him tenderly on the cheek. "Thank you. You are better than I deserve." she tells him. Collins doesn't want this to go any further tonight, but she's not ready to end the hug. She holds Ben closely as just rocks with him a little.

Cooper seems quite content to hold her. Finally he says quietly, "I was supposed to meet Mr. Pourtash to go over some shuttlecraft stuff. I could call him and reschedule, if you like...?"

"No," Collins tells Cooper, "it's fine. I'm completely exhausted. Please keep your appointment. I'm going to sleep right away" Unless Kylah comes home. "I'll see you in the morning." Again she kisses Ben on the cheek, but lets her lips linger there a bit before stepping out of the hug. "Thank you for coming by. Really." She takes his hand and guides him to the door. "Have a good evening." she tells him, and kisses him once more, this time, lightly on the lips.

Rangin shakes his head at Chief Harrison and holds up a hand as if to say he will deal with it, before striding to catch up with Kylah as she leaves.

He can't believe what he just saw on OCIII and is having trouble trying to fit it all together, so many contradictory things said and done both by Kylah and by Svelha. Rangin isn't sure what to say to Kylah now. Any thoughts he may have had about her blown apart in the few frantic moments that confrontation lasted for.

"Well that was a disturbing end to our stay. You seemed out of it at the end, nearly leaving me behind. Look, are you alright?" The words come out automatically and formal, concerned as he is for anyone he knows, but then Rangin was no longer sure he knows who Kylah is anymore.

Hearing Velir's voice behind her, Kylah manages to stop in place. She crosses her arms over her stomach, as if keeping her innards from spilling out after what felt like a stabbing. With a slow upward glance to see if anyone else is nearby in the corridor, she keeps very still until Velir catches up to her.

"No," she says at last, her voice hollow. "I am not all right. I am sorry for leaving you. I had no other thought but to go, I had to escape that cursed planet." She suddenly adds fervently: "How I wish we would break orbit now and leave it several light years behind!"

Kylah lifts her face to Velir to find its familiar comfort, but something makes her pause. He seems... remote. She cannot tell if it is due her own near-dissociation or whatever he is feeling. Normally, even without trying, she can sense some radiating warmth from his emotions toward her. Now there is a wall.

Her numb thoughts coalesce into a wary realization. "Velir, did you... how much of that did you hear?"

Rangin remembers back to a hilltop under the stars where Kylah had hinted at what had happened the night previous. How she lost control with Svelha, how she felt she had betrayed Rangin, and how she wanted to earn his trust, at least wasn't that what she had said had happened. Had he been too intoxicated with Kylah that his memory is now playing tricks on him?

This morning, the morning after they had embraced under the stars. The thought horrified Rangin, what had she been doing? Surely, she had good reason. Kylah had been honest so far, at least with him, hadn't she?

He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind as she tries to answer Kylah.

"Heard...I heard enough. Enough to know you met with him again," he chokes out. "Why, after what you said, did you? I just want to know, I don't want to make any judgements until I hear the truth from you? Will you tell me?"

Cooper kisses her back and says, "Thanks, Jer." A moment passes, and he says quietly, "I just want to say, I am so, so sorry about the miscarriage. I hope you don't blame yourself. It was out of your hands and had nothing do with anything you'd done. These things just happen."

"Yes, they do," Collins replies, but she'd never considered blaming herself. Great. Now I have something else to regret. Oh, joy.

He heard. He heard all that. Kylah turns away, her head shaking over and over, Velir's other questions a blur behind her mortification. Slowly they begin to register and she looks back at him. "I did see him again," she says hoarsely. "I had to--to ask him things. He is a banker, he knows about investments and the licensing process, and I thought he would be of use... I even thought he might be involved in the murder, but that was foolish."

She shrugs listlessly, feeling the weight of the entire day settling on her shoulders. "And then things turned personal. It was inevitable, especially when we were in a private room. I could not help it, I thought it would give me closure. But it was a mistake. As was talking to him now. I would not have, except you--you thought I should." Her voice rises a bit, but she falls silent instead of continuing. Blaming Velir is pointless. She is the one who escalated things. And Jan's accusations...

She blinks, only now truly understanding what Velir just said. "You will not make any judgments yet," she repeats in a flat murmur, aiming her gaze at the floor. "I suppose I should be grateful for that. I have had enough judgments today. I have had enough everything today." Her eyes shift to his face, now pleading instead of bitter. "Is it not enough, Velir? I am so tired. You must be as well. I had to fend off Fastolfe, I was brutally stunned, I chased down and stunned Mrs. Hsu, I was frozen and my very voice muted..." She runs a hand along her throat, the feelings of helplessness returning along with the memories. "All that and Jan, too. Twice. You must understand that I cannot take any more or I will go mad."

Even though she senses Velir is still not warming to her, she reaches out a hand. "Our evening was perfect. I could not have wished for anything more beautiful, from the dinner to--to what happened after." Her fingers lift to brush her mouth; she can still feel the pressure, the tingling bliss, the exquisite heat of his kisses. And then she drops her arm and her tone falls again into a monotone. "Then it was ruined. I am sorry. I am sorry. That is all I can explain tonight. Please, understand?"

Graham is whistling as he leaves the Arboretum and heads toward his quarters. By the time he's halfway there, however, his happy tune trails off and less pleasant thoughts start impinging on his mood. Should I check on Collins? On the one hand, despite her request for help staying clean, that seems absurd, since he just saw here. On the other, it is absurd if he accepts at face value her claim that things are under control. He's seen more than enough cases first-hand where people weren't able to admit the whole truth to others--or themselves. Yes, I want to help her. He frowns. But what she really needs may mean more than merrily going with the flow...

He sighs and decides he's not ready to sleep yet. So much for sweet dreams of...what? He almost laughs. Stealing a shuttle with Bennett. For whatever reason, that's what came to mind. Maybe a reminder of simpler and happier days.

He alters his course toward a lounge. Once there he orders some tea and decides to complete his AMR. He rubs his head as he completes a spare and factual report of events on the planet, wondering which if any of the mistakes, snafus, or concerning behavior to note. He decides none of it needs to be made official.

He does note that St. Croix performed capably and efficiently. Checking his personal mission log, he adds a line noting that Ensign Kylah acted with alertness and discretion to correct an oversight on my part that was potentially material to the investigation.

Then he frowns again and hails the comms officer on duty. "Is Mr. Kylah presently onboard Yorktown?"

Once Ben has left, Jeremi changes into pajamas and sits on her bunk near the nightstand. She stare at the Mazine's bag again. Why? That's all I want to know. The earrings were more than enough. She pulls out the larger of the two boxes and just stares at the bracelet for a while. She loses herself in the facets of the gems, letting her mind go where it wants, and ignoring anything it brings back.

She doesn't want to, or perhaps is not ready to say anything. Rangin rubs at his head slightly, realising how tired he feels and the conflicting emotions running through him.

Her apology seemed sincere, the look on her face seemed honest, the look in her eyes seemed haunted and hurt somehow. He feels something for her, but is no longer sure what that something is. At this moment all he really wants to know is what are her feelings for him, good, bad or indifferent. He can't tell whether she is being sincere or if he is just being played. She had had a bad day, but seemed oblivious to everything that had happened to himself, as if it didn't matter. Perhaps, she was just tired, perhaps this was the true her coming through, self-centred and narcissistic...almost as bad as someone else that evening. Maybe that would explain some of the instant attraction that Rangin is never going to try to complete with.

No, he isn't going to think about it now. Surely, she has a good reason for what she has done and tomorrow she might tell him. That thought, at least, gives Rangin a small cause for hope. Kylah can explain it, and clear up the doubt, because...no, the alternatives are not pretty. It started off as business and then became personal. Personal enough for Svelha to want to come off the spores. It just doesn't make sense.

Perhaps, with a good night's sleep it could make things seem better, make more sense than his current jumble of thoughts. He needs time to rationalise them, it is how he works best and standing around emotionally had always got him into trouble.

"Kylah, No, I'm sorry that scene occurred. If I hadn't asked you to talk to him, it wouldn't have happened..." and I wouldn't have found out that you have possibly been lying to me all this time. He couldn't help it, the apology was automatic once again, although sincere. But the outcome of the meeting was slowly beginning to make him worry. "You're right, the last day has been terrible with everything that has happened to you, you have had an awful day and I shouldn't be questioning you like this. Let's just get some sleep and pick up this up some other time."

He nods at her and unwittingly steps towards her and embraces her. A traditional way to end the evening and before he knows it he is wrapping his arms around her. Some of the memories of the night are still strong, how she felt in his arms, how he just wants to hold her and tell her it will be alright and they can work it out, it doesn't matter what the truth is, all she has to be is honest. But, then, had she lied to him? Was this just her way of maintaining some control over him. It had happened before, and...and he wanted to pull away, to not be near her, to not be caught in the same situation as happened several years ago. To run.

Letting go and stepping back, he forces a calm smile onto his face, trying to ignore the sweat slowly beginning to run down his spine. "Goodnight Kylah. I'm sure I will see you in the morning."

Kylah can barely hold her head up, she is so bone-tired. But she has to stare at Velir's countenance because she is used to getting strength from it. Now... now he is hesitating. Measuring her, perhaps judging her despite his promise not to. Then he apologizes and sympathizes and suggests a night of rest and steps forward to hold her.

Once she is folded in the circle of his arms, she sighs, waiting to sense the warmth of him--not merely the physical but the comfort manifest in his presence--as she usually can once they touch. There is warmth here, but it is like a candle under glass. A thin shell surrounds him. He is not with me, not truly, she thinks, and would be miserable if she could drum up the energy. Or am I just too exhausted to feel him?

Worried, Kylah automatically starts to press her mind outward but stops herself just in time with a sharp inhale. Her eyes squeeze shut with the effort of controlling the impulse to gauge his true emotions. I must not, I must not!

He tells her how awful it has been for her, and she is about to suggest that it has been an awful mission for everyone--that once they have finished their reports they must put it out of their minds, forget everything horrible that happened.

Before she can, he parts from her and gives her a wan smile, a shadow of his usual calm, gentle expression. Kylah's throat is dry. "Yes, goodnight," she says, more air than voice in the word. "And thank you."

She does not want to see him walk away from her. Instead she gives him her own shaky smile, turns and walks as quickly as her legs can manage down the corridor to the turbolift.

Kylah finds Collins alone in their quarters.

The Communications duty officer on the Bridge tells Graham, "Yes, Ens. Kylah is aboard. You might try her quarters."

By the time Kylah returns to her quarters, she has run the evening's events over and over in her mind until she is uncertain what state she and Velir are in--if, indeed, there is any 'she and Velir' at all. She does not understand why she is fated to ruin everything.

She stares at the door before entering. She already knows Collins is there--she gets a strong sense of the other woman's presence even a couple of yards from the door--and has mentally girded herself for the experience of dealing with yet another person who hates her.

I should probably change quarters... again, Kylah thinks, ruefully remembering a brief mistaken assignment she'd endured when first beamed onto the ship.

Actually Kylah is surprised that while she was on the mission, Collins has not already demanded that the junior officer get booted from her assigned cabin. But once the door whooshes silently closed behind her, Kylah abruptly remembers that of course, Collins has had far more important troubles to worry about.

Collins's tall figure is sitting on the bed, somewhat hunched over, and the woman is paying no attention to her. Kylah cannot quite gauge her emotions but they seem uneasy and somewhat... jumbled.

Biting her lip, Kylah purposely bumps against the dresser so that her presence is not a surprise. Then she walks to her own side of the room, eyes scanning her bed and the nearby surroundings for the bag of her personal items, which should have been beamed back up from the research station by now.

Of course she did not get a chance to pack--none of them did--and she also realizes that she never retrieved her blue sundress from the resort's lockers, where she stashed it after changing for her ill-fated dinner with Jan that first night. She has no desire to go back for it and is even less willing to remember the item of clothing she replaced it with.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," Kylah murmurs without a look at Collins. "I hope I did not disturb you."

Collins looks up at Kylah. For what seems an eternity, she says nothing. Then she PCI,s up the shopping bag, puts the bracelet init, and walks over to Kylah, holding the bag out in front of her.
"I can't accept these. You were far too generous. Please, take them. I'm sure they'll look as good on you, maybe better." Collins reflexively wipes her eyes with her free hand, even though there are no tears to wipe.

At first, when there seems to be no response from Collins to her greeting, Kylah gives up and moves to her own dresser to find a nightgown. She will take a shower and slink into bed. But then...

The crinkle of a bag slows her movements, and Collins's words make her freeze entirely. Self-deprecation? A compliment? This is not the Jeremi Collins she knows. As she turns around, Kylah senses a wave of chaotic feelings emanating from the security officer. And at once Kylah notices her puffy, reddened eyes and unusually solemn expression.

"I do not know what you--" Kylah begins before she belatedly sees the proffered bag. The label--Mazime's--immediately brings it all back. The shopping trip, the afternoon in the gift shop. Exactly what she tried to avoid remembering moments ago. But she still does not understand until, at last, her foggy mind recollects the earrings--and the bracelet bought as a surprise. She must have just found it...

Kylah lifts a hand and backs away slightly. "No, no, it is--it was a gift. Both of them. We were having a pleasant time and you were helpful when I was shopping--" A swell of nausea makes Kylah's face burn and she cuts off the thought of that horrible dress. Even the jewels are tainted, considering the ugly things that were said so soon after she bought them. She hurries on and looks away. "I wanted to thank you. Please keep them. Please, I do not take back what I have given, it is not proper."

Collins is surprised. She thought sure Kylah would gladly take the jewelry back, especially after their confrontation outside the store. More tears well up in Collins' eyes, and she backs up to her bunk and sits with a plop.
"But it's too much." Jeremi's voice cracks a little "I don't deserve it. Please..." her voice trails off, and she still hold the bag out, tears coating her cheeks.

Graham thanks the comms officer and breathes a sigh of relief after he's closed the channel. No thank you, he thinks. He's relieved that she either abandoned the idea of apologizing in-person to Fastolfe or it went off without incident. And now I'll follow the old adage: sometimes you need to quit while you're ahead. If I check on either Collins or Kylah at this point is it likely to go well, or badly? Your track record speaks for itself, Booker...

He files his AMR and gets ready for bed. After thinking a moment, he searches for some of the latest news about what's new in Starfleet Navigation. He expects some of it will be over his head--maybe I can ask Bennett to explain those parts to me, he thinks.

Graham sees in the latest issue of the Starfleet Journal of Navigation and Stellar Cartography that all Constitution-class ships will, over the next year, have the new Sotok Cybersystems HF-437A2 inertial navigation system installed. The technical specifications and diagrams, which run for several dozen pages, make his brain hurt a little.

Taken aback by such tearful emotions from this woman, Kylah shakes her head again, alarmed. Is there something she is doing to cause such extreme reactions in other people? Is it due to her own empathic abilities, are they somehow negatively affecting others? It would explain a great deal of her interactions over the past few days...

She stares in dismay at Collins's tear-stained face before at last comprehending what must be going on. Kylah's own face floods with heat. How can I be so self-absorbed? "Lieutenant, you--you are not yourself," she says gently. "After what you have been through... My mother suffered such losses several times. I am sorry, I am so sorry this happened. I know you were uncertain what to do, but it should have been your choice, not taken away from you like this. You must give yourself time to recover, not just physically..."

The more she speaks the more Kylah realizes her presumption will not be appreciated once Collins gets back to her normal frame of mind. She tries to repair the damage. "Just--just please keep the jewelry. I wanted you to have it and I still do." Hastily she turns to her dresser to yank the top drawer open and pull out the first piece of frothy material she encounters; fortunately it is indeed a nightgown.

She clutches it to her protectively before remembering her AMR is still due. And besides, leaving the room is a safer strategy. Tossing the gown onto the bed, Kylah gestures weakly to the door. "I must go to write my mission report. Perhaps you can contact one of your friends? Or go to sleep, you must need your rest."

Kylah turns toward the door. Before she gets there, she stops and, without looking back at Collins, murmurs: "I think... I think when you are feeling better, you will resent me for seeing you like this. Your emotions are raw or you would not be speaking so to someone you despise."

"Thank you" Jeremi says weakly to the gifts, then Kylah's last statement catches her completely by surprise. "Why would you think...?" then it dawns on Collins why the young Ensign feels despised by her. "I'm sorry for what I said, I was angry, and what you'd said just before that, well, it touched a nerve. And yes, my emotions were, and obviously still are," she adds with a smirk, "quite raw. But I don't despise you. It's just that I get angry and lash out, and most of the time, I speak before I think. It's my biggest fault." Jeremi takes a breath. "As for seeing me like this, well, it couldn't be helped. But I won't resent you. I promise. Don't leave. Sit, please. Let's talk."

Kylah's attention is riveted by Collins's words. She is moved; she did not think the security officer knew how to apologize, much less admit a fault. But after this initial reaction, she cannot help looking over to Collins and taking a careful, wary measure of her. Collins is not just affected by hormones. Something else is behind all this. When she moves closer, Kylah catches the tiniest hint of alcohol in the air, and the answer coalesces at once. Of course. She has been drinking. Perhaps not here, but earlier tonight, and rather a lot.

Now Collins's effusive speech makes much more sense. Even if the words are somewhat sincere, they are likely not things Collins would have said without so many biological factors working to remove her natural censors.

Nevertheless Kylah will not discourage any steps toward self-awareness that Collins is displaying. She turns around. "Thank you, Lieutenant," she says, her words still quiet. "I am sorry for what I said, too. I am far too defensive, and the comments about my appearance being some sort of lure..." She lets the rest of the sentence die unsaid, not wanting to invoke the memories of all the unwanted male attention she has received, and just nods. "I lashed out too. So I hope you will forgive me. As for talking, I appreciate the offer but perhaps tomorrow is better. It has been a very long day and I do need to complete my AMR. And there is a great deal to report," she adds in an undertone. The thought of how much lies before seems daunting.

She refocuses on Collins. "But thank you again for your apology, I appreciate it. And I am very glad to see you looking as well as you do." Even if you are seeking more sustenance in alcohol than is healthy.

With a fleeting, awkward smile, Kylah backs away, realizes she has forgotten to take her datapad, then grabs it from her night table and almost darts out the door. Though grateful for the first pleasant words Collins has ever spoken to her, Kylah hopes that when the other woman wakes up tomorrow, she will not be embarrassed about this conversation--or forget it entirely.

"Thank you." then "Yes, we can talk some other time." Collins watches as Kylah beats a hasty retreat, and almost smiles. But there is still too much weighing on her mind. Is Ben really okay with all this? Should I have trusted Booker? Could I get in one more hit before I quit cold turkey? Jeremi quickly dismisses the last thought and replaces the Mazine's bag back on the nightstand. She gets under the covers, and tosses several minutes, trying to get comfortable, finally curling up into a pseudo fetal position facing away from Kylah's bunk. She stares at the bulkhead until her eyes get too heavy to hold open, and finally falls asleep.

Now in the mess hall sitting by herself, Kylah stares at the datapad in front of her. It is blurry. She rubs her eyes with two fingers, sighing at how exhausted and disheartened she is. The interaction with Collins a pleasant surprise, but it cannot erase the constant barrage of terrible things she has experienced over the past few days.

At last she begins the report. She is determined to include everything--everything but her indiscretion with Jan, of course, and the personal issues with Velir, Graham and Collins.

She writes of Collins and Graham's quick reactions to Fastolfe's attack on Wilson. She praises Graham for the ease with which he assumed leadership after Collins's sudden unavoidable departure, and how he solicited opinions and made assignments accordingly. Much credit is given to Delaney and Garcia's decryptions of the safe and various files.

For Velir, she stresses his calm under pressure, his initiative, his well-considered strategic advice to Collins when it appeared the then-mission commander was overwhelmed and losing focus--although she adds, tactfully, that Collins's distraction may have been due to her health issues. Kylah does not leave out his courage and astonishing ability to save them from Palver's plans.

In every way, Ensign Rangin showed extraordinary abilities of intellect and even leadership. With so much contradictory evidence and data, I fear the crew were often at odds as to how to proceed, and even both mission leaders did not seem fully aware of all the facts of the case. Ensign Rangin consistently strived to maintain focus and peace. That this investigation succeeded, to whatever degree it did, is in no small part because of his pursuit of the truth and willingness to both follow orders and think outside the narrow parameters of normal investigative skills.

I believe him fully worthy of a commendation and indeed a promotion--although of course this is far beyond my responsibility and perhaps it is presumptuous of me to comment. However, as a low-ranking Ensign, I believe it would be inspirational to those such as me to see such merit rewarded.

Kylah swallows and looks down at the words she has written. Her fingers touch the pad as lightly and tenderly as if stroking Velir's face.

Will anyone say such things about her performance? She does not feel comfortable reporting on her own accomplishments and hopes someone recognizes them. Perhaps her disastrous and irrational behavior has tainted whatever positive recollections her team might have--if they even do remember her successes.

She was the first to be suspicious of Hardin: first due his presence on the planet, although those suspicions were merely of impropriety; and then when she was the first to identify the inconsistencies between his claims of not having seen Wilson versus the witness statements. She decoded Wilson's communicator; she found the videotape that both indicated Mrs. Hsu had lied, that Palver had lied, and that Hardin was in fact not guilty of murder. She was able to get a confession from Mrs. Hsu about the affair and took the woman down by herself before the attempted escape to the Trimalchio. All her attempts at leadership when left behind at the resort.

And then there was Palver. Kylah's insistence on his involvement, her refusal to believe Hardin's confession, her suggestion of mind control...

No, no one will remember this, Kylah thinks sadly, her thumb absently rubbing the side of her datapad. I will be remembered for my last cowardly actions. Hysteria. Fainting. Being a damsel in distress.

Taking a soothing sip of hot chocolate, Kylah returns to her report. She finishes her recital of the facts of the case and the praise for those who she feels earned it. But that is not enough. She will not repeat her mistakes after the Sakath mission by assuming others will report the problems and dangers that resulted from the mistakes during their time there. And so she begins...


To be continued...

Rangin doesn't head back for his quarters but goes straight for the science labs. He's not sure he could work in his quarters, the promise of a bed and sleep hanging heavy in the room and he knows that he could easily find respite in sleep, preferably without the dreams that are likely to accompany them. But he still has work to do, and even though Rangin can feel effects of the dinner still upon him, it doesn't matter. If those reports are not written now, they never will be, at least to the standard he would want.

As he enters he the lab he grabs a coffee, the only thing he could really do with now. Dog-tired and slumping into a chair as the sounds of some of his colleagues carrying out experiments and writing up results fills the air with quiet chatter. Rangin gently lobs the datapad onto the table, not really caring about the mission and watches it skitter across the table top to stop just out of reach. Raising the cup to his lips, he considers what he needs to do next: write two reports in double quick time. After the first few sips, Rangin feels more relaxed and ready to set to it and he leans right across the table and picks up the datapad. Reading back over the notes he had assiduously been collating over the last few days, he shakes his head disappointedly, noticing that the further on things progressed, the looser the notes became.

Rangin starts with the easier part, the report of the resort and starts putting together at least the stuff he is happy with. How the resort handled the spores, along with some brief notes on the medical side and the security of the place. It does not take Rangin long, it was the only thing he was really going down to do, so the notes were comprehensive. Finally, he adds some detail in about his concerns on the way WR&R was running the place, even though it never turned out.

With that part done, he sits back and takes a few calm breaths. Relaxing slightly that he is beginning to make headway. He rises and gets another coffee, on autopilot, while he continues to churn through what to write next. Should he write it all, should he leave parts out, if so what should he leave out. He absent-mindedly scratches at the back of his head while picking the cup up and heading back to the desk and settling back into the chair.

He takes a few more sips, looking into the distance as the world around seems to fade out and only his memories remain, before deciding that anything on duty should go in, anything off duty could remain quiet...

Quiet: just how Kylah wanted to keep things, was she ashamed of being with him, was he not good enough for her, was he just some kind of toy she could pick up and use whenever she felt like it.

Rangin stopped when he realised that his knuckles had started to go white around the cup and he took a deep breath to start again. Regardless of how they felt about each other, he still had to give an honest appraisal of her, and the rest of the team. He wondered if Kylah would be doing the same and what she would be writing about her out-of-hours experiences. Somehow Rangin didn't think those would make it in somehow. Sleeping with someone she had met after a few scant hours was not the sort of thing that well in a report.

It doesn't matter, Rangin would be honest and if that meant giving Kylah the write up she deserved, then so be it. After all, she had been persistent, perceptive, brave and daring. She had put her life on the line in stopping Mrs Hsu and had to contend with Security, and oh yes, there was something that Rangin was going to mention, just how bad Security had been. He didn't have to name names, just point out the stupidity of their actions and the rest would speak for themselves. Yes, Security of both the Yorktown and the resort had been below par. Otherwise, how were they going to explain that Kylah was able to prove Hardin could not have committed the crime, and not them. That her instincts for Palver had proved correct more than once.

Rangin leaned back and took a deep breath as if coming up for air. Peering back down at what he had been writing, he was beginning to wonder if he hadn't slightly overdone it with Kylah, but thinking back on it, she had been as useful, if not more so, than anyone there. Trying push all thoughts of Kylah to one side, which was difficult as he could still feel her warm embrace from the planet, Rangin tried to concentrate on Graham and Collins.

Collins had been learning to lead the team and was beginning to do a good job before medical issues took over. Graham...Rangin stopped. How much of Graham's behaviour did he want to include, it would impact Kylah and her dalliance with Svelha and Kylah still owes him an explanation. Rangin shrugs. In the end there was more than enough things that Graham did without having to overdo everything: a few good, but mostly bad. It wasn't as if he is going to write anything other than describe what Graham had decided was acceptable behaviour. It is tempered slightly though. Graham had started off badly, but had improved somewhat before the end, he just needed to be a little more respectful of those around.

For T'Var, Rangin had got on well with the Vulcan Officer who had been as diligent, observant and stoic as usual. Lt Delaney, well Rangin had not really worked with him, but he had done what had been asked, quickly and efficiently. As for the others from the Yorktown, Rangin quickly pointed out the good, Crewman Dobson and the not so good, Lt Kjaerstad, not directly, but through their actions.

When it came to his own role though, Rangin is not sure what to say. He helped Collins with sorting out what to do, he found the files, though anyone could have found them. He'd done what had been asked of him, regardless of who it had come from. He had figured out the teleporter traces, and also stopped the team getting hit by lightning. He'd done several laps of the resort in the rain, and had somehow been the only one capable of taking down the person behind all the murders. But looking back over it, Rangin feels slightly downhearted, it was nothing special, anyone else could have, and would have done the same. Surely.

What did it matter. Security still acts like its runs the place and obviously do not think they do anything wrong. Rangin muses, he should have stopped at do not think....

Now several hours later, Rangin sits back, realising at some point he had retrieved another coffee, but the reports are written, and he was done for the night. Saved, sealed and ready to be handed in.

Rangin calls it a night and heads back to the sweet sanctity of sleep in his quarters.

Kylah gnaws on her thumb a bit before concluding her report with the problems encountered.

She begins by acknowledging her own flaws as a junior officer--going above her station, pushing interview subjects past the point of their tolerance, even causing aggressive behavior in others. Kylah finds it painful to acknowledge the truth that, as a Communications officer, she was unsuccessful in gaining the trust of several interviewees. She admits her questioning of her senior officers may have approached insubordination, although she cannot help but add that she did so in hopes of furthering the investigation. It may be an excuse but it is one she feels she must make.

At last she begins to describe what seemed like a systemic disregard for both safety and solid investigative procedure on the part of the Starfleet team as a whole. The rush to judgment against Fastolfe and Graham's treatment of him in his house that bordered on harassment. Delaney's incredibly irresponsible blurting of dangerous facts about Hardin while Graham and Kylah were in front of the man.

Somewhat nervously, Kylah describes the utter breakdown of command during the brief time Graham put her in charge of activities at the resort. Mr. Graham ordered the entire Starfleet team left behind to follow my instructions as if they were his own. Though I am inexperienced and not a Security team member, I believe my subsequent performance was as professional, thorough and strategically sound as could be expected. However, my orders were, time and again, questioned and outright disregarded.

When we learned there was suddenly transporter activity, I asked Ensign Russell to determine whether Mrs. Hsu was still in her office. He gave an answer that did not take into account that there were multiple rooms in that office; we assumed she had transported out, when instead she had escaped through a crawlspace in the bathroom.

I began a search for her and ordered Lt. Garcia to meet me at the transporter room to help catch Mrs. Hsu; this was on an open channel overheard by Lt. Kjaerstad. Without my knowledge or permission, Kjaerstad overrode my order and asked Garcia to help him search some video footage. This left me to face a fugitive--who turned out to be armed--entirely without backup. As a result I had to act alone. Fortunately Mr. Graham was able to instruct me remotely, but I do not believe my orders should have been disregarded.

Kylah continues to describe the repeated failure to accept her orders, including the security officers Russell and Harper, who chose to move Mr. Hsu to a different place entirely without consulting her, and Rawlings's ignoring her request to ensure with St. Croix that transporter signal interrupters were placed outside Palver's quarters as well. Had her suggestion been taken, Palver would not have escaped to the Trimalchio at all.

I was forced to take the entire team to task multiple times. I fully acknowledge that I may not have been worthy of their unquestioned respect, having not earned it in battle or even length of service. But rightly or wrongly, our mission commander Graham had ordered them to obey my leadership. Lives were put in jeopardy as a result--first my own by Mrs. Hsu, and multiple others by Palver's escape. Indeed we would not have confirmed Palver's guilt if the Trimalchio had left orbit. Hardin would have been arrested and convicted for a murder he believed himself to have committed.

Kylah shakes her head when reading all this over. She rubs her eyes again. And finally she takes a deep breath before concluding:

I wish to put it on record that I am concerned about the loose ends and unanswered questions regarding what began as a simple assessment of a resort's worthiness of a license renewal, and turned into an investigation into murder and corruption.

To speak to the original purpose of our assignment: I strongly believe that while WR&R's running of the resort is, on the surface, efficient and elegant, its core is rotten and the judgment of its board is questionable, considering that at least three of the resort's highest-placed personnel were implicated in this corruption scandal and murder. Further investigation is needed as to whether WR&R's board was complicit in the bribery of Vice Admiral Hardin.

Further, Vice Admiral Hardin's ability to convince the licensing board of WR&R's suitability must also shine a spotlight on the licensing board itself. How much did they know? Did Wilson have any additional arrangements with other members? Did Palver? How many competitors were attempting to sweeten the pot for this lucrative license?

And that leads me to the most significant recommendation, which I understand is not in my purview but I believe it my duty as a Starfleet officer and ...Kylah hesitates before continuing to type.. a soon-to-be-Federation citizen. I strongly feel that part of the responsibility for this festering corruption lies in the decision to award the license for colonization of this planet--in the form of a single resort--to one commercial venture. This immediately created an atmosphere ripe for venality and corruption.

In the end, this a planet with unique resources of extraordinary value for the health and welfare of others, yet it has been made available solely to a few of the wealthiest customers of a single company. I believe a luxury spa and resort can certainly be one of the options for this planet, but it should not be the only one. The planet could and I believe shoudl be made available to other ventures such as free or low-cost clinics, so that more can take advantage of the spores' unique qualities.

She closes her eyes, trying not to remember the treacherously seductive bliss that led to such poor decisions on her part.

Allowing a single, vastly wealthy corporation to possess a monopoly and charge outrageous fees without any competition... These are not the values of the United Federation of Planets; not the ones of which I learned in the Academy. I dearly hope this entire policy will be reconsidered, as indeed it must be in light of the nest of corruption uncovered by our investigation.

Kylah bites her lip and stares at the words. Yes, she probably has gone too far. But at this point she is so fed up with the rank hypocrisy in Starfleet and the highly vaunted ideals of the Federation that she wants to make her opinion crystal clear, even if she suffers for it.

She concludes her report and saves it. Her eyes are bleary and she would not be able to write any more even if she could. With a soft groan she stands up--her muscles are knotted and sore--and makes her way back to her quarters, where she takes a shower to scrub the filth of the planet and the day's activities from herself... although her mind remains stained by he memories. Then, clad in her sheer nightgown, she crawls into her bed and lies on her side. Kylah tries to imagine Velir's arms protecting her.

Unfortunately the only experience she has of someone in bed with her is Jan, and she cannot separate the physical memory of him from the much more desired memory of Velir. She tightens her shut eyes and wraps her own arms around herself, hiding under the blanket as if it can protect her from the truth that, even in the safety of the ship, stalks her.

The lights soon dim throughout the Yorktown, and ship's night begins. You each enjoy a restful sleep in your own beds.

You awake in the morning to find, on the ship's status updates in your respective comm accounts, that the frigate USS Pyongyang has already arrived in orbit of Omicron Ceti III, as has the Silver Heron. The luxury liner has brought several dozen new guests for the resort, as well as the resort's new director, some other WR&R brass, and at least eight reporters.

Cmdr. Jadwiga Kalinowski of Starfleet Security's Office of Investigative Services is a flinty, dead-eyed Pole with gray hair pulled back in a bun. She leads a team of six which has been at work for several hours already. Collins and Graham attend a mid-morning Security briefing with her and learn that, the search of the Trimalchio having found little of use against Palver, the Yorktown's last boarding party has been recalled, the yacht's crew released from quarters and its captain restored to command. Kalinowski is in close touch with the JAG officer on Starbase 27. Palver remains sedated and is transferred under heavy guard to the Pyongyang.

Later in the day, Kalinowski and her senior aide, Lt. Cmdr. Sanok, a Vulcan, debrief each of the landing party separately. They have obviously read your AMRs and have quite a few questions. Cmdr. Vargas sits in but says little. Kalinowski is all business and clearly does not welcome questions from you, but answers some.

It is almost dinner time before the last of the landing party members, Ens. Kylah, is finished with her debriefing.

Collins feels more like herself, having stood an uneventful watch. Even her debriefing was uneventful, since she had very little to add to the others' AMRs, except to tell Cmdr. Vargas how well each of the landing party conducted themselves, and to please put Collins' recommendation for commendations to all of them in their jackets.
She messages Cooper that she's heading to the mess for dinner, if he'd like to join her. Then immediately regrets that, but she doesn't want to be alone for too long, so she leaves it as sent.

Kylah is sickened, if not surprised, by the quickness with which this so-called investigative team has dispatched the Trimalchio, and the fact that she is unable to point out several issues that were left unanswered. The angrier she gets, the less conflicted she is about the other report she is duty-bound to create: not for Starfleet, but for her Guardian.

If the Federation is this inept and corrupt, she will not mourn if Elas ends up in the Klingon empire after all. For all its claims of holding the higher ground, the UFP does not seem to her much better a prospect than the Klingons--and possibly worse. Kylah detests hypocrisy.

Now that she is done, apparently, with the farce of the debriefing, Kylah is tempted to contact Velir, but from the way they left things she fears contact is best left up to him. Instead, she gets in touch with the person she has not seen since boarding the Trimalchio. On her way from the room where she spoke to Kalinowski, she opens her communicator.

"Kylah to Dr. T'Var. I was wondering if we might have a chance to talk? I would like to find out how you are doing."

Graham's not surprised that it appears others' AMRs were longer and more opinionated than his own. I was never much for writing anyway, he thinks. But he doesn't second-guess himself: we've got a much better chance of building some unit cohesion if give dealing with the long list of things I could have documented 'off the record.'

Still, once the joint sessions with Pyongyang's officers are over, he leaves a short note for Cmdr. Vargas indicating that he is available at his convenience if the commander would like a private briefing solely with the Yorktown's chain of command.

He's thrilled to have time to fit in a quick workout before dinner. He changes in his quarters, but before hitting the gym he finds a secure terminal in a private location and looks up information on signs of withdrawal--and use--of synthetic hallucinogens.

Well, I feel like a narc, he thinks. But what the hell, 'Sis' if I'm going to help you one way or another I'd best brush up on this...

Once he's done that, he heads for the gym and punches up one of his favorite workout programs: 30 minutes broken into intervals of progressively intense cardio work followed by martial arts maneuvers. Tempted as he is to see if there's a program optimized for fighting Rhaandarites, he figures that a tried-and-true Klingon-based program will be more useful.

Kalinowski, Sanok and their OIS team got here on the Pyongyang, but are not part of its crew. The Trimalchio remains in orbit.

Cmdr. Vargas replies, "Thank you, Mr. Graham. Not now, but maybe soon. I want to mull over all of the AMRs some more."

Graham finds quite a bit on the Library Computer terminal in his quarters about the use of synthetic hallucinogens and withdrawal signs. They are all across the board, depending on species and drug.

There is not a martial arts program optimized for fighting Rhaandarites, but there is indeed one for fighting Klingons.

As he leaves the debriefing, Rangin feels like he has just run through another dissertation. Tired, and by now, thoroughly fed up by the whole of Omicron Ceti III, he still maintains a calm and quiet demeanour through the process.

He's not sure how Cmdr Vargas is taking the implicit criticism of his Security team, but then Rangin has done what he promised himself. He has laid out what happened in clear terms and it is for those higher up to deal with it. He doesn't necessarily like pointing things out like this, but in some ways, its the only way people learn not to do them, if they are broken of the bad habit.

Wondering what to do next, Rangin contemplates contacting Kylah, she still owes him an explanation and the consistent picking apart of his AMR just raised further worries in his mind over what she was up to. But if she is going to be as quizzed as hard as he had just been, Rangin isn't going to get anything from here until Kylah is given a little time to recover.

There was one last thing to do, Rangin ponders, as he taps the little monitoring tab he had been wearing. Nothing had happened in the last 24 hours, so it was time to get rid of it.

Rangin contacts Dr Villa in Sickbay, to see if he could stop wearing the monitor, to ask if they had any further idea as to why he was able to move against Palver's ability, and also to pay his respects to Fujishiro, who was still in a coma last Rangin knew. He may not have known her long, but still feels guilty for surviving the Sakathian Virus in a much better state than she did.

Anything else, well that could wait until tomorrow.

Cooper replies to Collins, "Sure. Mess Hall 3 at 1800?"

Dr. Villa has both Kylah and Rangin turn in their biometric monitors. She says, "There've been no unusual readings for either of you since you returned from the surface. I can't explain why you were able to resist Palver, Mr. Rangin, but I do have a theory. Would you be willing to have your psi abilities retested?" Fujishiro remains in a coma, and the Yorktown's Chief Medical Officer says sadly that there's little likelihood she will ever emerge from it.

As Rangin is not yet ready to meet up with Kylah, he heads to Sickbay while she is running through her AMR.

When it comes to his psi abilities, Rangin shrugs. He can't remember any Coridanites showing any psi abilities, although it might occur in perhaps one or two in total of the entire population of the planet, if indeed it actually did exist for his species.

"Why not, ma'am. If it can help to try and explain what happened, I have no problems with that, though I doubt you will find anything. I tend to rank on the completely random guesswork average end of the scale when it comes to any kind of mental abilities."

"As for Fujishiro, I take it then that even the OC III spores for all their value are not capable of reversing what damage was done?" Rangin sighs, "Would you mind if I sat with her for a while, maybe read to her? It may not mean anything, or do anything, but no-one should be left alone like that."

"1800." Collins messages back. She's not sure what they'll talk about, but it will be nice to have the company.

Before his workout, Graham sets up a password-protected search for the latest and greatest information specific to Terran females and common drugs that he intends to let chug away overnight.

By the end of his workout he's feeling better than he has in a long time. As he hustles through a quick shower, his mood sours a little. What I'd like to do is have dinner with Cecilia... He resists the urge to check her duty schedule, however. I think she actually did enjoy our little chat, he thinks. So don't push it, Booker...

His list of other to-do's is not thrilling: Clearly I need to round up some of the Security folks who were on OC3 and debrief. And put the kibosh on any bullshit around not following Kylah's orders. And then there's continuing the conversation I started with her planetside... He's not sure how to approach that, or even what the outcome is. Better not to do that after a long day of briefings anyway....

Other than suggesting to Rangin that he might want to consider being more diplomatic expressing his contempt for me personally and perhaps my whole profession, I don't really have anything we need to discuss, he thinks. But then again, Rangin seems to be close to Kylah and might actually be helpful on that score...

He decides checking on Collins is the only absolute "must do" today. Well, if I'm lucky--fat chance, I know--we'll run into each other at dinner. Otherwise I'll track her down...

Once he's dressed he heads for the main mess hall.

Collins makes a u-turn on her way to the Mess, and goes to her quarters to put on the earrings. I might as well enjoy them, and show them off. She looks in the mirror and the sight of the sparkling gems against her red hair actually makes her smile.

She enters the Mess and looks around for Ben.

If she sees Ben, she goes right to him. If she see Booker first, she'll go there. If she sees neither of them, she picks an empty table and waits.

Dr. Villa says, "Good, thanks, Mr. Rangin." She schedules him for a battery of tests the day after tomorrow. "As for Mr. Fujishiro, I've been in touch with Dr. Anderson at the Starfleet research station on OC3 and she didn't think the spores would do her much good. I'm still considering the option, though. Feel free to read or talk to her; we take turns doing it every day, and she often has friends drop by."

Graham begins his computer search; it won't nearly take overnight. He sees no one he knows in Mess Hall 1.

Cooper is already in Mess Hall 3 and smiles as Collins approaches.

Graham's not surprised at his lack of luck serendipitously happening upon Collins. He debates asking comms for her location or contacting her directly, then decides it's best if he tries to keep things "accidental." I'll have plenty of chances to convince her 'big brother' is more like 'mother hen,' I'm sure, he thinks. He makes contacting directly 'plan B' and starts going from mess hall to mess hall hoping to stumble across her "by chance."

As Collins approaches Ben, she "subtly" moves her hair behind her ear, and tilts her head to let the earrings catch the light. She, too, smiles at seeing Ben. When she gets to the table, she leans over to kiss him, then takes her seat.

"Thank you Dr Villa. It would feel wrong if I didn't help out."

Rangin sends a note to Lt. Cmdr. Roble to confirm what Dr Villa is intending to do and re-arranging what ever watches are necessary to accommodate the tests.

Then he heads in to where Fujishiro is, gets a glass of water and begins to read to her. He doesn't know if what he is doing is helping, or even having an effect, but it just feels like the right thing to do.

Remember it's "watches" and not "shifts" in Starfleet parlance.

Cooper says, "Wow! Those are some beautiful earrings. New?" He resumes his seat.

Science Officer Roble acknowledges Rangin's message. He can do the testing while off-duty. What will he be reading to Fujishiro?

Graham arrives in Mess Hall 3 and sees Collins and Cooper together. The room is about a third full.

Rangin opens a copy of The Tea-Leaf Thief by Murasagi Sutaki an interesting mystery of honourable samurai, evil ninja and the Daimyo's finest tea set, stolen from a palace in old Edo.

Looking across at the slight comatose figure, he cannot help but think that there but for the grace of...

He settles back in a chair, near the head of the bed and begins to read out to her, quietly but clearly.

Collins puts her fingers behind her ears to show the earrings off. "A souvenir from OCIII," she tells him, "actually a gift from my roommate. I helped her pick out a dress, and this is how she thanked me." Nice to have money, she thinks. "Pretty nifty, right?"

T'Var responds rather quickly to Kylah's message. She has been wanting to speak with the ensign.

"I am free now, if you are," the doctor says. "Perhaps we could meet in my quarters?"

Kylah agrees, a bit reluctantly--she was hoping just to get a quick update on how Dr. T'Var is feeling, during which she planned to avoid any reciprocal questions--and heads to T'Var's cabin. When she gets there, she steels herself and rings the chime.

Graham approaches the table where Collins is sitting with some dude, just in time for her to be showing this guy--boyfriend?--some damned fancy earrings.

Man, the lieutenant's pay scale must have been seriously increased since I held that rank...Anyway, nice timing, as always, Booker, he thinks. On the flip side, a 'clean' boyfriend would bode well for Collins...but a user would be very bad indeed...

He clears his throat and tries to stay as casual and relaxed as possible while also noting their pupillary reactions...

"Uh, L-T, sorry to interrupt...just, ah, saw you here--I'm going to get the Security folks who were temporarily reporting to me down on OC3 together in a few, just wanted to keep you in the loop, but there's no need at all to interrupt your dinner..." He glances and nodes apologetically to her companion. "Uh, how are you doing, he asks Collins. "All good?"

"Much better, thank you, Mr Graham" Collins replies. "This is Ben Cooper," she introduces the two men, "Ben this is Booker Graham, he was on my landing party. He took over when I had... uh, when I got sick." As they shake hands "Would you like to join us, Booker?" she asks, glad to have a third party there to increase the possible conversation topics.

"Good to meet you, Ben" Graham says. At Collins' invitation, he shakes his head. "No, no, I don't want to intrude...plus, you know either Gelil or St. Croix burned down a historically significant building--granted, on my direct orders..." He smiles and shrugs . "But I really need to give them the business, you know, while it's fresh."

He takes a step back. "I'll leave you be...happy to grab a drink or have dinner later," he adds to Collins, "if you're ever looking for 'fifth wheel, of course.'"

Dr. Villa listens to Rangin reading for a few minutes before drifting away with a rueful smile.

Cooper does seem to like the earrings. When Graham comes up to the table, he says, apparently sincerely, "Are you sure you won't join us, Booker? You really are welcome."

T'Var answers the door. "Please come in, Kylah. I was hoping we would have a chance to talk a bit."

The doctor gestures at two chairs near the door. "I was wondering how you are feeling as well."

Kylah glances at the chair T'Var indicates somewhat warily, but only hesitates for a few seconds before sitting down. "I am all right, thank you," she says in a measured tone. "Very glad to be off the planet. Everything we experienced there is in the past. The more distant we are from both the planet and the events, the better."

She clutches her knees and leans forward. "I have been worried, Doctor. No one has told me of the results of your examination, or how you reacted after hearing Mr. Palver's claims, his boasts, of having faked the autopsy by using you. Claiming to have controlled you, forced you, into changing the time of death." Her eyes are wide in intense concern. "I did not believe it. A Vulcan with your advanced mental control... surely you could not be taken advantage of so easily. And we were all there when this allegedly occurred, all surrounding the body. I was inches away from you! I cannot believe I would not have sensed such an invasion happening to someone. To a friend." Kylah starts to reach out and then drops her hand. "Please tell me Dr. Villa confirmed that you were not--not manipulated in this way," she says softly.

T'Var reaches out and takes Kylah's hand. It is obvious to the doctor that Kylah is not yet ready to share her own experiences from this last mission. Perhaps with time....

"I am more curious than anything else," T'Var says. "Apparently Mr. Palver was able to use mind control to his advantage. I am unsure of how he was able to do this. I would very much like to speak with him about it. I have learned that what we might consider impossible can be very possible, indeed, Kylah. Yes, I do have a strong Vulcan mind. Still, this does not mean that what happened to me did not happen."

Graham raises his hands and takes a step back from the table. "You're both too kind, but, seriously, I'm way under-dressed..." He taps his nose. "I left my diamond nose stud in my quarters and all. "I'll catch up with you later," he says with a nod as he turns to go.

Kylah shakes her head in despair, her hope of gaining any control of her own mental powers dwindling. "But--but Dr. Villa tested you. Could she not tell? What about Wilson's body, the notes... Do you remember any of it? Do you remember the autopsy? Did it feel... different? I knew when I was not in control, I can remember it all." She swallows and slowly removes her hand from T'Var, pretending she needs to push her hair back. "I mean, when Palver paralyzed me. Us. It was obvious. I tried so hard to break free but nothing I did worked. And then he silenced me, I could not even talk. I knew it was happening the whole time, and I could not fight it even though I tried."

She tries to focus on T'Var. "I just--are you not afraid? I know Vulcans have feelings, you just control them. Is there not fear, somewhere, that something happened and you could not prevent it?"

"There are many things in life we cannot prevent, Kylah. Fear is a concept I have a difficult time grasping, in all honesty. Perhaps my curious nature neutralizes some of the fear."

T'Var pauses a moment to gather her thoughts. "I know that I was unaware of Palver's manipulations. I remember the events as they occurred. This is why I am so interested in Mr. Palver and how he was able to control me -- all of us -- in such a way."

"If you do not remember that he controlled you, then he may not have done so. Why should we believe his version of events?" Kylah will not let this go. "He was determined to place Hardin at the scene of the crime, to frame Hardin. If I had not pressed Palver, he would not have admitted that he was the murderer after all. All evidence points to Hardin being in the nightclub, it is only Palver's outrageous claims that make you think otherwise." She sits back, her chin hard as a rock. "I do not think we should take Palver's lies as truth. Will you not agree with that much?"

"Perhaps it is best to let the authorities sort everything out -- truth vs. lies. My prescription would be for us to let go of this mission for a while. We need to rest and recover from it."

The words are coming from a woman who looks like T'Var, but they do not appear to belong to the Vulcan Kylah thought she knew. Kylah stares at her in disbelief, then stands up. "I thought you were an authority. I thought we were the ones who investigated this case and knew its every detail." Or at least Velir and I know its details. It seems no one else truly cared enough to pay attention. Even a logical Vulcan is throwing up her hands...

"You may trust in authorities, Doctor. That may be your experience. It is not mine. If it had been, I would not have suspected Vice Admiral Hardin of--at the very least--impropriety from the start." After a hesitation, she adds, "I am glad you are not feeling any ill effects, not even concern, regarding what may or may not have happened to you. I wish I had your confidence and ability to shake such things off. Thank you for meeting with me." She walks to the door.

Cooper waves as Graham walks away, and then turns back to Collins. "So... how are you feeling? Good to be back on duty?"

"Oh, yes. Very good to be getting back to my routine," Collins says, maybe a little too enthusiastically. "Shall we get some dinner? I'm in the mood for some sushi." And some sake, or maybe plum wine.

"Sounds good to me," Cooper says.

Mahmoud bumps into Graham in the corridor, an odd expression on his face. "The reporters who came on the liner have been busy," he says. "Have you seen these?" He hands a datapad to Graham, who tabs through several articles, all posted in the past few hours.

The Wall Street Journal: "WR&R and Palver Group stocks dropped sharply today on news of the arrest of Fellim Palver for murder, and reports that Starfleet corruption and payoffs may have resulted in WR&R being awarded the lucrative resort franchise on Omicron Ceti III over more qualified applicants...."

FedNewsNow: "Starfleet sources would not confirm reports that Palver is being held incommunicado while the investigation continues, but Gorr Venablin, exec VP of Palver Group, said he has been unable to reach Palver and is 'very concerned' that...."

The Solar Post: "A senior aide to the Attorney General confirmed today that she may take the case away from Starfleet so that an independent investigation may be conducted, given evidence of corruption by Vice Adm. Patrick Hardin and the possible political and economic impact of charging Rhaandarite billionaire Fellim Palver...."

You Know You Want It: "Singer/actor/pop demigod/bad boy Lord Fastolfe says in an exclusive interview with us that only his torrid romance with a curvy young Starfleet officer kept him from being charged for the murder of a top WR&R exec on the 'spore planet,' Omicron Ceti III. 'She knew I was innocent of murder and did all she could to clear my name. I will forever be in her debt....'"

Word soon spreads throughout the ship. Vargas sends a high-priority comm message to each of the landing party members, reminding them of Starfleet regs prohibiting personnel from speaking to the press without authorization of their commanding officer.

Graham sighs as he reads through the reports. "Well, I'm pretty broken up Fastolfe didn't mention how the 'curvy officer' didn't also save him from the abuses of the Nazi-esque Starfleet Security goon...I'm going to have to call my freaiking publicist," he says to Faisal, shaking his head. "Glad we got the hell out of there when we did, before this circus started..."

After a pause he adds, "Hey is there a particular lounge Security prefer to hang and blow off steam in? I want to get the folks who were under my command temporarily down on OC3 together briefly."

Mahmoud says, "Crew Lounge 6A is the closest to the Security Office and Brig. Redshirts tend to gather there. I'll pass the word, if you like."

Graham claps Mahmoud on the shoulder. "Yeah, please do, if everyone could gather in 30, I'd appreciate it...'drinks on me' of course."

"Sounds good to me," Mahmoud says. In half an hour, all of the Security personnel who were on OC3 are gathered. It is a veritable sea of redshirts. Graham has their attention as he walks in.

"My apologies, Kylah," T'Var says. "I did not mean to upset you further. You make some valid points, of course. And I would very much like to speak with Mr. Palver. Perhaps he is a liar. Perhaps not. Still, the authorities are now in charge of this matter. I am sure they will seek our input. You can address your concerns with them. You could also address them with Cmdr. Vargas or the captain or both."

Not turning around, Kylah just stares at the floor outside T'Var's quarters through the now-open doorway for a few seconds. Then she backs up a step, letting the door whoosh closed again. "No, I am sorry, doctor," she says at last. "If something did happen to you, you were a victim as well. I should not be angry at you for being better equipped to handle such a possibility. I understand I must seem erratic and irrational. I just... I cannot bear knowing I was not in control of my own actions. My own mind."

She faces T'Var again, although she still keeps her focus on the floor, unable to meet the other woman's gaze. "I told you, the night before we left for the mission, that I have spent my life trying to gain some mastery over my mental abilities. Once we spoke, I felt some hope that you might help me. Unfortunately, down on the planet, I was twice in situations where it was made clear to me just how weak I am. Both times I tried hard, so very hard, to fight back and protect myself. Both times I failed miserably.

"And now, after hearing Palver's claims about what he did to you..." Finally Kylah blinks and looks pleadingly up at the Vulcan. "I do not want to believe it, Dr. T'Var. Not only because it makes little sense given the evidence. But because most of all, if someone like you could not maintain control, what chance have I?"

"You have not failed," T'Var assures Kylah. "You have done your best. That is all anyone can ask of you."

Kylah's communicator beeps.

Kylah listens to T'Var's kind words and just nods slowly, not accepting them but appreciating the doctor's effort. Then, asking for T'Var to excuse her, she picks up and opens her communicator. "Ensign Kylah."

Collins walks up to the replicator, taps the screen a few times, and receives a tray of assorted sushi, including a Vulcan roll, 4 kinds of unpronounceable vegetables of assorted colors, wrapped in rice paper and doused with wasabi oil; and a glass of plum wine. She takes the tray, smiles at Ben, and steps aside while he taps up his meal.

A male voice comes scratchily from the tiny speaker on Kylah's communicator. "Ens. Kylah? Are you alone? Can you speak freely?" She does not recognize the voice.

Cooper orders baked chicken with rice and beans, a tossed salad and an ice water.

Curiosity and a frission of unease tighten Kylah's fingers around the communicator. After a second or two, she says, "Just a moment" to her anonymous contact, then glances at T'Var. "I--I must take this, but I do not wish to be rude by talking to someone in your own quarters. I hope we may speak again tomorrow, doctor. Thank you again for everything, and I hope you will let me know if you hear anything conclusive about... about what might have happened."

She gives T'Var a brief smile of gratitude before leaving the cabin. Walking down the corridor, she waits until she is certain she is alone before speaking again. "I am able to speak now. Who is this?"

The subspace reception is poor, even after Kylah adjusts her communicator. The man says, "This is Clive Walcott of The Solar Post. I'm here at OC3, at the resort, digging into the story of Mr. Wilson's death and his ties to Vice Adm. Hardin. I understand you were involved in the preliminary investigation. I'd like to interview you, if you have a few minutes."

Two young men in Science blue walk by, talking animatedly.

Kylah remembers Cmdr. Vargas's earlier warning about speaking with the press.

Eyes widening, Kylah lets Walcott's words sink in. They seem like a reputable organization and, if she remembers correctly, were focusing on the need for an external investigation. It is exactly what she hopes will happen--what must happen, if the Federation is to regain any sense of respect in her eyes. Still, Vargas's words were clear. And her report is in his hands. Her opinions are known, and they will surely be recognized as coming from her even if she speaks off the record now.

"I... I am afraid I am not allowed to speak to you," she murmurs reluctantly, watching the backs of the Science officers as they retreat from her. "Not without talking to my superior officer first. I can ask, but..."

Even as she speaks, her mind is busy calculating. Lt. Thalen might be amenable. He is the most reasonable senior officer she has met on this ship, and appears to like her. Or at least, he does not hate me. Yet. She continues to delay with a natural question. "...But I do not understand. Why would you contact me, of all people? I was the most junior officer involved during the mission."

Walcott says, "Your name came up as someone who was very critical of Starfleet's handling of the investigation. I also understand you had some personal dealings with the suspects, and were attacked by both Palver and Hardin...?"

Kylah knows that The Solar Post is the largest and most respected newsnet in Earth's Solar System, although its reach extends well beyond there. It is read by Federation and Earth policymakers, leaders and opinion-shapers of all kinds.

Kylah instinctively looks around her, as if Walcott or someone else is in the vicinity. How can he possibly know about her critique of the investigation? That was made plain only in her AMR, unless... Did I say anything on the planet? She thinks quickly to assess what she might have implied to the witnesses.

The only person to whom she indicated her displeasure was Fastolfe, and he does not seem the sort to have given any serious comments to a newslet like The Solar Post. And she has not seen any coverage of this outside the Post--she has been dealing with her debriefing most of the day.

Then the allegation Walcott mentioned somewhat casually sinks in. "Personal dealings?" Kylah blurts. "I do not know what you mean by that. And I--" She stops herself just in time. She will not be foolish enough to give him any information, even a confirmation or denial of any of his words. But now she is worried about just what rumors are going around. Unless he is simply trying to goad her.

"Mr. Walcott," she begins in a more measured tone. "I cannot imagine how you even got through to my comlink. But as I said, I cannot speak to you without permission. The trouble is, if I do seek permission, everything I say will be scrutinized most carefully by my superiors, while every unattributed quote will be assumed to have come from me." She shakes her head. "You are putting me in a very difficult position, sir. I must think about this. May I get back to you?"

Graham claps his hands a couple times. "All right everyone--thanks for coming, first things first--I want to see a drink in everyone's hands. Obviously a virgin cocktail--let's call it a 'Vargas' cocktail--for those of you on duty..." He secures himself a whiskey, neat. "As you can see, I'm not...either on duty, or Vargas."

He takes a spot in the center of the room. "I wanted to thank all of you, he says, loudly, "who were temporarily assigned to my command on OC3. I know your assignments were all over the map down there, but for those of you who were too busy ogling rich geriatric spa-goers, just for the record, we took down a corrupt Starfleet admiral and a billionaire playboy murderer who was also a Galaxy-lass asshole....Cheers!" he shouts, holding up his glass a taking a swig.

He then holds up a hand. "And...for the record, we also burned down a historically significant building in the course of a hot pursuit...really hot, I guess you would say--so, St. Croix, Gelil, which one of you fired the shot...? And was this your first building? Old as I am I think I can't claim more than two myself...here's to an extensive trail of destruction over many more ass-kicking years!" He raises his glass and takes another swig.

Graham deliberately sets his glass down and then raises both hands. "OK, there's one more thing..." He stops smiling and steeples his hands in front of his lips for a moment before continuing. "I temporarily placed Ensign Kylah in operational command at one point. If anyone has an issue with that decision, I'm all ears, let me have it. But here's the thing--the only direction a good officer kicks is up. So if anyone has an issue with any order she gave, or her personality, her age, her gender, not being human, anything you can goddamned well think of--that stops right here, right now."

He pauses and glances around the room, making sure not linger on any particular person. "I know it didn't go smoothly, but there's not a word in my report, because I know we're all professionals and we can deal with it accordingly." He speaks very slowly. "If anyone has the slightest inkling of being anything other than the spitting image of courtesy and respect to the Ensign from this moment onward you know where to find me." After a pause. he turns and picks up his glass "I'll be standing right here finishing this tasty drink."

He raises it again, and says, with all seriousness. "To many more missions where everyone comes home safe."

Walcott says, "I'm not sure I'll be able to get back in touch with you - punching a secure signal through to your communicator hasn't been easy - so it'd be best if you were the one to make the call next time. You can reach me through this channel" - she knows her communicator will automatically log it - "or through the resort's front desk. And a word to the wise, Ensign: I'm speaking to several other people, as are other reporters here - some of whom are not nice people. So if you want your story told responsibly, time is of the essence. Walcott out."

Graham notices as he speaks that Lt. JG Haakon Kjaerstad is rather stony-faced; the others at least seem receptive to what he has to say. Ens. Jeanne St. Croix is the first to raise her glass in response to his final toast, and smiles at him warmly. She is then the only one to come up and speak with him other than Mahmoud. "I had no problem with Kylah," Mahmoud says, raising an eyebrow.

"Nor did I," St. Croix said. "But I appreciate the drink, Mr. Graham!"

Kylah stares blankly at her communicator for a moment, trying to parse Walcott's words. '...If you want your story told responsibly,' he said. Whose story did he mean? The mission team's story? Her story? Together with his implication about 'personal involvement,' these statements form an ominous picture. And the other 'not nice' reporters. What exactly do these people think happened? Has anything else already been reported irresponsibly? And how did all this get out so quickly?

She genuinely does not know what to do. On the one hand, she would be glad to speak the truth; she wants to make sure there is no cover-up. But she cannot be indiscreet--for many reasons. Her loyalty to Starfleet, as flawed as it is. Her future career, assuming she has one. And then there is her Guardian. He would not like her to be the source of any public speculation; he wants her to remain where she is until he has drained all the knowledge from her that he can. If her allegiance to the Federation is questioned, she will be of no further use to him in Starfleet. She will have to resign her commission and then...

Kylah does not want to think about it. Her stomach is tight as she forces herself into action, hurrying to find the nearest room with an accessible terminal she can search for news about the investigation.

Quietly to Mahmoud Graham says "She had a rough go of it down there--for a lot of reasons." He perks up when speaking with St. Croix. "Don't mention it--thank you for being Janey-on-the spot down there. And remind me not to bet against you in the 200."

After making some small talk he approaches Kjaerstad. "I'm sure when you got out of bed the other day, Lieutenant, you hadn't been dreaming sweet dreams of temporarily reporting to an old geezer who'd been busted down to ensign." If the lieutenant has a drink, Graham offers to clink his glass. "Hopefully you won't order me to hand-clean the warp nacelles next time you're in charge of a mission."

Kylah finds an empty crew lounge which has an unattended Library Computer terminal. She soon comes across the news stories mentioned earlier.

Mahmoud nods somberly and sips his drink.

St. Croix says, "Glad to help. It was certainly... interesting." Her French accent and freckles have definitely caught Graham's attention, even given his recent interest in Bennett.

Lt. JG Kjaerstad smiles warily and clinks his glass with Graham's. "That would be an Engineering job, not ours. But don't worry about it, Mr. Graham."

Graham finishes his drink and leaves the room, although not before he makes the rounds once to mention again to Mahmoud that it was nice to see a familiar face on-planet and to say "I'm sure I'll see you around" to St. Croix.

You always did like 'fast women,' hardee har har, Graham thinks, shaking his head as he walks down the corridor. He contemplates the absurd thought of Bennett and St. Croix being set up as romantic rivals... Right, they'll be rivals for my attention right after hell freezes over and a plague makes me the last man in the galaxy.

He's well on his way back to his quarters when he stops and sighs, a sense of responsibility getting the better of him. That get together was a must-do immediately on the heels of the mission...but was it the only one?

He hails the comms officer on duty again. Please please tell me she's already snug in her pyjamas in her quarters and I have an excuse to quit while I'm ahead tonight...

"Can you tell me Ens. Kylah's location, please?"

The words do not change no matter how often Kylah processes them. 'Torrid romance...' '...I will forever be in her debt...'

"That pig," she whispers, shaking her head. "He claims he is in my debt and repays me with this?"

The report does not use her name--that is the only scrap of relief she can drag out from such trash. But now she understands what Walcott meant when he referred to her involvement with a suspect. No. He said suspects. Plural. Who else is... is someone else lying about me?

Who might have seen this? Has Velir? He will not believe it, she thinks, although something sinks within her when she remembers that Velir has made it clear he is suspicious about her behavior with Jan. Nevertheless, no one else who was there, who knows Fastolfe's reputation, could think it was anything but a lie.

Then Kylah remembers Graham's lecture after the search in Fastolfe's house.

"Look," Graham says to her, "We all want to get the job done, however we can. But with men--ah, men like Fastolfe, or this Jan character--you don't have to throw yourself at them. ...I don't know how you took my direction to be 'good cop' with Fastolfe, but you seemed to get a little too...ah, sexual with it. ...Maybe men and women interact differently on Elas... You need to observe or people are going to interpret the wrong way. Or your commanding officer is going to question your judgment."

All this because he had seen her trying to reason with Fastolfe. Perhaps the other officers in the house had made such unsavory leaps of logic too. And Graham told her he had observed her and Jan's kisses on the security video camera. Meaning that the resort's security guard on duty likely saw this as well.

The truth is, the rumors about this 'torrid romance' could have come from just about anyone, not just Fastolfe. That phrase might not even be his own--Fastolfe's direct quotes are accurate enough.

Kylah does not care about the resort staff gossiping about her, except for what they might be telling reporters. The thought of her shipmates knowing just whom Fastolfe meant, however... that is galling. They must be speculating even now, if they have not already figured it out. True, this reporter did not identify her, but Walcott's implication was clear. What if any of the 'not nice' journalists are less discreet and reveal her name, her royal background on Elas?

Unconsciously she moans aloud, then claps a hand over her mouth.

Normal Elasian women are entitled to sex lives. But she is neither a commoner nor Dohlman, free to do as she pleases.

I must clear my name, I must talk to Walcott! Except... I cannot. I must get permission, they will know if I speak to him.

Kylah closes her eyes and counts to ten, then one hundred, trying to decide what to do.

The Communications duty officer on the Bridge says, "Ens. Kylah is near Dr. T'Var's quarters. May I put you through?"

Collins watches Ben as he eats his dinner, taking bites of her own as she does. He's still gorgeous. I wonder if I've healed enough for a little extra curricular activity tonight? Jeremi smiles at Ben, then takes a sip of her wine.

No longer worrying about the last few days and lost in the excellent story, Rangin continues to read to Fujishiro.

Wrapped in the little world of the story, at this time he is able to forget the last few days.

Graham feels he ought to follow up on the discussion he started with Kylah on OC3--all the more so because he can't imagine she'll be too happy about the press coverage.

He'd like to convince himself that her location implies she's had a good talk with T'Var that somehow has made everything fine, and he's off the hook. But that's self-serving bullshit, Booker, he concludes. Of course whether I'll make things better or worse is an even bet...

"Yes, please, put me through," he replies.

Collins and Cooper have a very pleasant meal together. The pilot is careful not to mention their baby or the miscarriage, but keeps the conversation light.

Rangin reads on. Dr. Villa and other Sickbay staff drift by from time to time and listen a little.

Kylah's communicator beeps again. It is Graham.

The pit in Kylah's stomach grows denser. She lifts her communicator, covers her eyes with her free hand, and says softly, "Yes, Mr. Graham?"

Graham clears his throat, momentarily at a loss as to his next step.

Winging it in the field can sometimes be managed with the judicious use of force. Not so applicable here, Booker...

"Look, ah, we started to have a discussion about, um, events during the mission while we were still planet-side. I ah...I thought it would be best that we didn't let that drop." He clears his throat again.

"The poor girl." That comes to mind as thinks about the press coverage.

What a weird thing to think...I'm not that old for god's sake, and she's not a little kid... but... He winces. Of course you remember exactly what it was like for a young woman to be slandered in 'that way...'

His voice softens. "Also, there's been some...press coverage I wanted to talk to you about before you saw the, ah...well, hell, the crap these scumbags are publishing."

Kylah lets ten seconds pass before she responds.

"Are you displeased with the press coverage, Mr. Graham? Why? Is it because of what they said, or because it was made public?" She laughs humorlessly. "Because unless my memory is mistaken, that unfinished 'discussion' to which you refer consisted of you making much the same assumptions as the news reports.

"Enjoy your rectitude, Mr. Graham. Your first, second and third impressions of me have been proven true, as have Lt. Ferguson's accusations. I am a strumpet who throws herself at men, whether they reciprocate or not. I understand my reputation is soiled, as you predicted, and that my behavior likely caused your Security team to have such contempt for me that they disobeyed my orders and put my life in jeopardy. They will receive no penalty since the breakdown in command was all my own fault, none of theirs."

She takes a deep breath. "There. Does that cover it, or is there something further that you wished to say?"

Well this is going great, Graham thinks.

He rubs his forehead with his free hand. Like a see-saw, on the one hand his inclination to be pissed off by her outburst is balanced by his assumption that if she was upset before when they talked, she's surely even more upset now--all because of how the mission went down while he was in charge.

He also takes a deep breath and keeps his voice low, slow, and even. "My recollection is that our discussion was about the fact that you wanted to see the mission through, despite having a rough go of it." He pauses for emphasis. "And despite the fact that you said did not get the backup you expected, something I take seriously."

What the hell do I say now? he wonders. What would Rangin say? 'Blah blah urbane blah blah witty,' 'Ooh, Mr. Rangin is so urbane and witty.'

"It's my responsibility my team come back safe from missions--emotionally as well as physically."

Dammit. OK, don't say 'dammit.' It's surprisingly easy. however, to stifle the inclination to turn the conversation into an inquiry into her behavior--even though he does have some things he'd like to know. Or maybe, I don't want to know, he thinks. Beyond than the obvious that in that case there'd be nothing stopping her from simply closing the channel given that he no longer holds temporary rank--the mission overall was flirting with FUBAR most of the time, and this is like her second and your what, thousandth, Booker?

He clears his throat. "At the very least, I'd like to understand how I could do better by you if there's a next mission like this one."

It seems as if Kylah's exhaustion from the mission has reached tentacles out to drag her back into its relentless grip. She drops her head into her hand again, shaking it. "I suppose we had innumerable unfinished discussions," she mutters, massaging her temples. "If you do not remember your lecture to me outside Lord Fastolfe's home, as prophetic as it was, so be it. We will discuss this instead. I did see the mission through. I tried to do so adequately, but I was hindered by both my own mistakes, which I admit to, as well as your team. And turning to that issue, I do not appreciate your phrasing, sir."

The formal address is automatic, a leftover from the past few days, and she almost bites her tongue in annoyance at having used it. But she hurries on, more upset. "You make it sound as if you do not believe me--I only 'said' I did not get the backup I 'expected.' Do you not know what happened in the incident with Mrs. Hsu? Did Lt. Kjaerstad or Mr. Russell not make a full report to you? Do you think I ended up facing that woman alone because I was reckless?"

Frustrated, she forces herself to her feet. "This is foolish. I cannot speak to you on a communicator. If you truly want to know how you can do better by me--although if there is another mission like this, I swear by the Tellun Star it will be my last--then talk to me in person. If you are as astute a judge of character as your many years on the job would indicate, you will see my face and judge whether I am honest. I am in the crew lounge near Dr. T'Var's quarters."

"Excuse me for a few," Collins tells Cooper, "Nature is calling." She gets up from the table and starts towards the head. Once out of his sight, she messages Dr. Villa "Is it safe for me to resume physical intimacy? /s/ Lt JG Collins". Jeremi waits a few minutes for a response, and also to give the impression of having done what she said she was doing.

Dr. Villa replies, Yes, in moderation. Stop at once and come to Sickbay if you become uncomfortable or are in pain. VILLA.

Collins messages back a thank you and returns to the table with a smile. "Where were we?" she asks Cooper.

T'Var wonders what to do next. Should she head for Sickbay and try to focus on work? Or should she spend some time in meditation?

The doctor decides that after her conversation with Kylah, meditation is the best medicine.

"I'll be right there," Graham replies to Kylah, double timing it toward the lounge.

Cooper says with a smile, "I think you were going to decide on dessert for us both."

T'Var's thoughts are awhirl (even for a Vulcan) after her adventures on the surface, and the uncomfortable notion that Palver might have tampered with her mind, and it takes her longer than usual to achieve a calm and meditative state.

Graham finds Kylah without difficulty. She is alone in the small crew lounge.

Kylah snaps her communicator shut and returns it to her belt, her mouth a tight line. If Kjaerstad has truly failed to recount his negligence to Graham--or, worse, if he gave a misleading version of the events leading up to Kylah's confrontation with Mrs. Hsu--Kylah is unsure if anything she says will convince Graham that she was left in the lurch by Security multiple times. He already believes her judgment to be poor, not entirely without cause, and his opinion of her character is clearly dismal: it did not escape her notice that he never disagreed with the notion that she is some sort of sexual predator. So why would he trust her over a superior officer?

She folds her arms across her chest in guarded preparation for whatever unpleasantness is about to occur. Soon the lounge door opens and she sees Graham for the first time since they left the planet.

"Thank you for coming," she says curtly. "Will you now answer the questions I put to you? Are you aware--are you even willing to be made aware--of just how poorly your Security team performed when you were away from the resort? If you do not care that they disobeyed me, you should mind that by doing so, they were disregarding your orders. But I--" Her hard voice wavers and chokes for a second. "I wish their putting me at risk would be enough for you to take them to task."

"Ah, yes." Collins gets a little twinkle in her eye. "Let me surprise you." She goes to the replicator, taps the screen a few times, and comes back with two slices of Limoncello Marscapone cake. "I think you will like this," Jeremi says as she hands one plate to Ben, then sits down. She waits for him to taste it, so she can see his reaction, before she eats hers.

Graham is silent for a moment after Kylah speaks. He slowly takes a seat.

To be sure, there have been times when given her age, gender, size--and sometimes, demeanor--Kylah reminded him of his daughter--which I haven't found easy to deal with, he thinks. Certainly to deal with well...

The more she invokes specific problems from the mission, however, the more she also evokes line-of-duty conversations. How many times have I wound up talking to someone who got their first savaging in the press, used serious force for the first time, or--for that matter--were torn up inside because they knew they had screwed up big time and it was eating them up?

It makes it easier to feel concern--or, although I'm sure Rangin would never believe it--compassion--with less anxiety associated with other baggage...

He clears his throat. "Look, just...ah, try to relax for a moment. I didn't come hear to impugn your judgment or cross-examine you." He pauses and rubs his chin. "I think a lot of stuff went wrong down there. For a lot of reasons....For the record, I already had a chat with the whole Security team to make the point that if they have any heartburn about you being in charge, their problem is with me, not you."

He frowns slightly. "You're probably just as likely to be angry rather than appreciative about the way I handle things, but let's get this straight, OK: I'm here to hear what happened. From you."

He thinks I am upset that they merely resented me. Kylah turns away from him, her gaze dropping to the computer terminal. Such a thing matters little to her. She has been disliked her entire life; she knows she earns little affection from anyone.

"I do not care whether they detested me for being outside of Security, or my age, or my inexperience, or my being one of those wanton Elasian women," she says quietly. "Or all of the above. I care that the mission and my life were both put in jeopardy by their disobedience."

She faces him, unable to hide the betrayal she feels. "I think you should have spoken to me first, before having any meeting with the Security team. I understand you feel more kinship toward them, but I was--I was part of the landing party crew. You put me in charge. And you knew, you heard, that I was forced to deal with Mrs. Hsu alone. Why would you not ask me how such a thing occurred?

"But now that is irrelevant. It is too late, you did not know the truth and thus it is not in your AMR. And Commander Vargas will likely disregard what happened because it is not backed up by a member of his own department. He is no doubt a fine First Officer, but in the end he is Security Chief. You are a breed apart--you feel that yourself, I know you do. And soldiers stick together."

She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. "Very well. Here is the truth. I was up in the administrative office area with Ensign Russell and Mr. Hsu when Lt. Kjaerstad contacted us all over the open channel to tell us about the transporter being in use. Immediately I started off in that direction, simultaneously ordering Lt. Garcia to meet me at the transporter room. Next, as I was heading off, I told Russell to stay in the administrative area with Mr. Hsu, who was refusing to join me. I had only taken a few steps when I turned to ask Russell to see whether Mrs. Hsu was still in her office.

"He said she was not there. Of course we all assumed she had either transported herself or someone had done it for her. This was not the case, as you know. By then I was already in the fire stairwell." Kylah closes her eyes, taking herself back to those frenetic moments during the chase. "I contacted both Garcia and Kjaerstad to inform them of Mrs. Hsu's disappearance, and told Kjaerstad to view the security footage to see if he could locate her. I asked Garcia to keep an eye out for her as well while he was on his way to meet me."

Her eyes fly open when she remembers something. "In fact... Mr. Graham, you ordered both me and Garcia to continue on our way to the transporter. And I am certain that is when Kjaerstad responded that first, the transporter was just warming up, and second, he had Garcia checking the security logs. So you--you should have realized that my orders had been ignored and that I was alone." She shakes her head swiftly. "I understand it must have all been too chaotic to hear over your communicator. But he did say it. I am sure of it.

"By this time I was still heading to the transporter and had to deal with the new information that Mrs. Hsu had clearly not transported after all. After confirming this with Russell--who should have given more than a cursory glance at Mrs. Hsu's office in the first place--I then realized what Kjaerstad had just said: that Garcia was now with him.

"I asked why my orders had been disregarded. Kjaerstad excused his actions by saying that he could not try to view the security logs and look over video footage. So he had made this unilateral decision without bothering to tell me, knowing I was on my own. I might add that there were resort security guards in there with him. He could have asked any of them to assist rather than leaving a fellow officer to hunt a fugitive by herself."

Kylah feels her face burning at the memory of her fear and anger at this betrayal. "You know what happened after that. I contacted you for assistance. You assumed Garcia was with me, but I told you he was not. And... and then you guided me through the events that followed." Her voice softens. "I hope you know I have not forgotten that. And will not forget that. I know you were of great assistance to me, and I--I am extremely appreciative. I can still be angry at other issues and remember the support you lent me."

Cooper tastes the cake and chews a bit before he swallows. He takes a drink of water and says, "Thanks, but I don't like lemon all that much."

"Sorry about that. What flavors do you like?" Collins is a little hurt, but is determined to hide it.

Graham listens intently to Kylah, leaning forward slightly in his chair as she speaks.

When she finishes, he frowns. "It was the least I could do..." He sighs. "Yeah, nearly the least, I guess."

He clears his throat. "Look--one thing, first, you can drop this...harlot, strumpet thing..." He quickly raises his hands. "Unless...we're all adults, of course, you can lead any lifestyle you want." He lowers his eyes.

"I have a daughter, she's about your age now..." His voice drops almost to whisper.

“Raaaaarrrrgh! I’m a space monster!”


"Leave me alone," she said, holding one hand over the cut on her forehead and stumbling to her room. "It was better when you weren't here!"


He can 't bring himself to raise his eyes because there's too much going on behind them. "I have four sisters, too," he adds, finally lookng back up at Kylah even though some of those memories as just as bittersweet, but his voice strengthens and he speaks with flat and utter certainty. "I'll never use those words or any like them with anyone."

He clears his throat yet again, but now speaks with more confidence.

"There were a lot of things I had no intention of putting in my AMR," he says, now holding her eyes and speaking slowly. He breaks eye contact and shakes his head. "Things were messed up down there--not the right situation to really figure out who's fit for the job, or reliable. We need to do it, but not by getting into a pissing contest about what went down on OC3."

He raises a hand and speaks with certainty. "I can't tell Vargas how to run his department or the ship, but if there's anyone to answer for letting things get that bad down there, it'll be me if I can help it."

He rubs his head and stands up. "Yeah...uh, well, I get what happened. You can trust me that I'm going to do my damndest to make sure that sort of thing doesn't happen again. I'm sure you want to be anywhere but here, with anyone but me."

He puts his hands on his hips, in this case not feeling self-conscious about towering over his much smaller colleague. "But just--" He grunts. "The way things got fouled up makes OC3 a bad scene. Still is, with these journalist assholes trying to make up stories with Fastolfe's help. Take some advice from someone who, however he's screwed up, has at least survived in Starfleet: don't dwell on the bad scene." He softens his tone. "It's about what happens next. Don't...don't let trying to fix what's past consume you."

He feels blood draining from his face as he says this. Really, Booker, did you just say don't let trying to fix what's past consume you?

Kylah listens, a myriad of emotions--both her own and Graham's--churning within her and making it difficult to keep calm. A few times she nearly interrupts him but holds her tongue until he is through. In the end he looks as if he does not believe the words he has just spoken. Which is good, because she does not either.

"There are some things in the past one cannot fix. That are immutable. I understand that very clearly--I have for years, but even more so now than ever before." She puts her hands on her hips, unconsciously echoing his pose, and shakes her lowered head. "I appreciate that you will not call me cruel names. But I also know that when you mention not writing up certain events in your AMR, you are likely referring to what you think I did..." Kylah lets the words fade, then starts again. "...What you know I did that first night. I am grateful you did not, but if you had, I would deserve to answer for it. And perhaps I will, depending on what the news reports say. Those who wish to see me suffer further have an easy job."

She takes a ragged breath and looks up at him. "But even though what happened cannot be fixed, neither can what happens now--and in the future--be prevented if someone errs yet faces no consequences for his actions. No matter how grievous." Kylah bites her lips, again shaking her head. "I am tired, so very tired of people who harm others and take no responsibility. Who feel no contrition. Who deny that what they did was even wrong."

It is difficult to maintain composure now and she struggles to do so, clenching her fists. This is not about Jan, this is not about my uncle, this is about now, this is about what can be fixed.

"In the Hsu situation... Lt. Kjaerstad was entirely to blame. Not only was he is an experienced security officer, senior to me and even to you. But he was on the scene, right there, in the security room, with all the cameras inches from him. At every moment he was abreast of the situation, he was on every open channel and I made sure he was informed--"

Now she gives a dry chuckle. "Indeed, Mr. Graham, the truth is, Kjaerstad was more informed than either of us! He heard my orders, he knew where Garcia was supposed to be, he knew where I was heading, he heard you order Garcia to be with me. And yet he specifically told Garcia to help him look at video. Lt. Garcia may have argued, I do not even know, but Garcia may not have been aware that he was the only person backing me up.

"Besides, Garcia is not a Security officer, this is not his area of expertise. Kjaerstad does not have that excuse. He disobeyed. He did. He put me in harm's way. I do not know if it was on purpose, I cannot fathom why he would have done so. But then," she adds bitterly, "human males are often unfathomable to me. Whatever the reason, he overrode my orders, your orders, and let me go up to that transporter door alone."

Kylah swallows, her throat dry. "So now, despite such manifest negligence or maliciousness on his part, you say you will answer for letting things get 'bad.' Why? Why should you do that? I did not tell you this so that you would shoulder this burden on your own. That can be a noble act, to cover for someone else, but not now. Not in this situation. At least when I made my mistakes, I put no one's welfare in jeopardy but my own. With this..." Kylah senses the genuine guilt flowing from him and she has to force back the instinct to step closer. "Mr. Graham, you must not take responsibility for something you did not do. You were not there. You could do nothing, you did not even know what was happening. If you had--"

Breaking off, she finally does move infinitesimally nearer to him and continues in a low voice. "I tell you this now. You and I have had our differences, many of them. But I know one thing: If you had been there, you would never have let me face that alone. You would have made sure someone was with me. In fact you would likely have moved the heavens to be by my side. For all our disagreements, I know that much about you, Booker Graham.

"But you were not there, and could not prevent it. This was not your fault. It was not." She stares intently at him, feeling the weight of his guilt but not understanding it. "You must not blame yourself. It will help nothing to do that. What will help is if you place the responsibility on the shoulders of the man who did make the mistake." She wipes her tears again. "If you do not, what gets learned? What will change? Is that not the point of what you do? Assisting others? Making things better?"

Graham wishes he had something to offer Kylah to wipe her face.

"You're point is well taken," he says, now decisive. "There was a specific tactical breakdown, and what should have happened instead is obvious." He shrugs and tries to smile. "Maybe not so much to Garcia, 'never abandoning your partner' may be less relevant if you're facing a particularly nasty algorithm..."

He takes and exhales a deep breath. "Like a lot of stuff on this mission, I don't think it's necessary to put on anybody's record at this point," he says quietly. "But I will deal with it head on with them."

He shifts backward slightly, thinking it may be time to go. "Look, ah--don't worry about the press, obviously you must have seen it. I'm sure assholes like Fastolfe peddle bullshit like this to hacks all the time. It'll blow over." He nods, then turns toward the door. He stops, although he doesn't turn around.

"And it's not just me." His voice is unnaturally level, almost on the edge of menace given the conviction behind it; he's knows he's making a statement of fact. You let things like that happen before, when you were young and scared and weak. You're none of the above anymore. Arguably never letting it happen your watch again is the whole reason the Booker Graham everyone knows and loves so much today--well, except Rangin--came to be.

"No one on this ship is going to call you cruel names." He waves his hand to trigger the door.

Cooper says, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe some strawberries? Do you like them?"

The door opens and Graham sees a Sidonian female in Command gold walk by in the corridor.

"Would you like a strawberry-almond mousse?" Jeremi asks her dinner companion. "I could program my grandmother's recipe."

Kylah looks at him blankly. He says he understands that there was a--what did he call it? "Tactical breakdown," something to that effect? A phrase so diplomatic and vague it might have come straight from her Guardian. In addition to his sweeping it all under such a bland heading, no names are mentioned nor blame properly designated except for a dismissive remark about Garcia... someone outside Security, of course.

Her anger is worn out, dulled by the futility of it all. Nevertheless she inhales and forces out: "If you plan to make the rounds among your colleagues, you might as well include Russell and Rawlings," she says, her voice flat. "Russell unilaterally chose to disregard both my and your orders to put Hsu in the resort's security area to consolidate our activities, instead moving him all the way to a hotel suite; he did so without asking for permission to change orders, only telling me after the fact.

"And Rawlings... You know I thought Palver was guilty long before Hardin even made his absurd confession. When Palver was leaving the library, I asked Rawlings to contact you and make sure that a transporter jammer was placed near Palver's guest house. Sure enough, Rawlings failed to act on my suggestion. That is why Palver escaped, why we were taken captive, paralyzed, and nearly brainwashed." Kylah is still reciting in a monotone. "At least Rawlings was genuinely sorry. Russell felt no such remorse. You see, Mr. Graham, it is endemic. Either your entire department is full of incompetents, or they had no respect for me, or even for you, since I was acting as your proxy. But you must do as you think best. Speak to them one at a time. Man to man. I know now that is your way."

Kylah exhales and finishes with a quiet, "Whatever happens, thank you for listening."

She returns to the chair by the computer and sits down. In truth, Kylah is not surprised that Graham seems unable or unwilling to break the unofficial Security officer code: do not cause trouble for your fellows in the line of duty. But she is disappointed. She went out of her way to relieve his self-blame, to put the responsibility where it belongs. Still he cannot bring himself to even validate her description of Kjaerstad's actions. No record will be kept, no reference will be made higher up on the chain of command. And yet Graham thinks that, somehow, he will take care of things. Somehow, by dint of his own pure will, the entire ship including Lt. JG. Mark Ferguson will accede to his insistence that Kylah will be called no names. How does he hope to achieve this? By the all-mighty, all-protective power of his menacing stare, no doubt.

That stare will not follow me through the corridors or lounges or... or rec rooms, she thinks miserably with a dark memory of Ferguson's cruel accusation. Kylah knows all too well that people will talk, they will say things, in any private moment they can.

The thought of Ferguson's public display, seen by only a few but surely the tale has spread by now, makes her groan and turn back to stare at the words on the terminal. How well it all fits together. The news and gossip outlets will have a field day with everything they can easily unearth. Combined with Ferguson's claims... What a picture it paints of her. What a vile, tawdry picture, worse for having a core of truth thanks to her stupid, reckless, helpless behavior in that wretched hotel suite.

Kylah's fists tighten. I must do something, I cannot let this fester--and there is no time! Walcott's warning echoes ominously in her mind. She has to speak to someone. Get advice. Graham is not that person, he thinks it will all vanish by magic. Desperately Kylah tries to think of a solution, but the only thing that strikes her is the gnawing hunger for comfort. And inevitably that leads her to: I must see Velir.

Graham turns, although he does not move back into the room at all. "I didn't mean to cut you off, before you were done...reporting." He frowns, and then takes a step toward Kylah, subconsciously aligning his body so she could not get by him to reach the door even if she'd wanted to.

"I'm not disputing your account. This is...this is about respect too. Sometimes things are messy enough that you need to take a little time to figure out whether people have made a one-off mistake, or whether maybe they are not fit for their jobs, or whether they were deliberately out of line...sometimes it makes sense to get some more information about people before rushing to judgment."

He pauses and licks his lips, his mouth suddenly dry, his stomach hollow.

"At the time I checked the video monitor in the Security office, my first instinct was that we should reel you in and send you back to the ship on report. But I didn't make an issue of it."

Hell this is where you didn't want to go...back to the past indeed..."You would never have let me face that alone." But I did. "you would likely have moved the heavens to be by my side." But I didn't. Again. Not 'again' for you...but like...

"Not long after, my instinct was to back you up at that hotel on the double but..." He pauses and swallows. "But I let Collins call me off."

He says what he hasn't wanted to think about.

"One of those decisions has to have been wrong."

The same thoughts that have tormented him for a decade fill his mind again.

What was it like be alone, hoping for help, someone, anyone...?

He turns to go...somewhere, anywhere.

Cooper smiles and says, "Sounds complicated... but I'm willing to try it."

The lounge door, having earlier closed, opens again. A yeoman in Engineering red walks by, a tricorder strap over her shoulder. She nods at Graham and passes by.

Graham's speech continues to drain Kylah's soul of any of its hope that what she said matters. I knew it. I knew it, she thinks as the text on the screen mocks her, a perfect accompaniment to Graham's pointed comments indicating that no, he is not reporting his colleagues' mistakes--just as he gallantly refrained from describing Kylah's impropriety in his AMR.

He may not realize how his words are coming across, but to Kylah this reminder seems little different from Walcott's not-very-veiled attempt at quid pro quo: Give your story to me, tell me everything and I will be as sympathetic as I can; if you do not, remember that the clock is ticking until my fellow reporters share the tales we have heard about your sordid activity.

Graham's deal is not far removed from that blackmail: Leave all this to me, I will protect you--but if you continue to complain that I did not report this to my superiors, do not forget that I possess information that could ruin you.

And just as she is processing this, Graham reveals that after spying on her in that security room, he wanted to barge in on her and Jan in the hotel, but was stopped by Collins.

Kylah's breathing freezes, only returning with a harsh gasp. She has no idea which aspect of this revelation is more horrifying: that her sexual activity was apparently a matter for discussion between Graham and Collins, of all people; that Graham might have forced his way into the room and seen her in such a shameful state...

Or that her degradation, her complete domination by forces she was powerless to control, came so close to being prevented--but was not.

She covers her eyes, wildly confused by all this as mortification burns the skin beneath her fingertips. "I understand, Mr. Graham," she croaks, desperate to escape from this discussion. "Decide as you must, do as you must. I promise I will not complain further, I will not bring it up again. Just please, go."

"You'll love it." Collins jumps up and sprints to the replicator, making sure not to knock anyone over who also might be walking around. She taps the replicator panel, and swipes a few things I the screen. Moments later, a small bowl appears in which is a thick pale pink foam, on top of which is a dollop of whipped cream and some shaved almonds. Jeremi makes a grand gesture of presenting the dish to Ben, then sits and watches him taste it.

Just please go.

The words hit him like a hammer blow. Graham's sure one of Kylah's Elasian knives plunging into the back of his neck would have hurt less.

They'd argued until there was nothing more to argue about shipping out on Graham's next assignment, or stepping away from Starfleet to accompany Jane.

"Just go," she'd said, once they were both exhausted and at a loss...

And Graham had gone, without turning around, without saying anything.

Because he'd assumed there'd be another time when he could apologize.

Or when she could apologize.

Or they could argue some more.

Anything but there not being another time.


He nods autonomically to the passing crew member and walks --staggers, almost--in the other direction.

Cooper tastes a spoonful of the mousse, smiles, and then takes another. "Mmm, much better - thanks!"

Graham makes his way down the corridor. Several people look oddly at him before a man in Engineering protective coveralls, a helmet under his elbow, stops and asks, "Are you all right, sir?"

Graham is aware that dropping to his knees would be a bad way to avoid further conversation that he doesn't want to have. Nonetheless he has to extend an arm to steady himself against the wall. "I, ah..."

He bows his head for a moment and squeezes his eyes tightly shut, then looks back at the engineer. "I, uh, just need to clear my head, thanks," he mumbles, forcing himself to stand upright. "Thanks, I'll be fine," he adds, nodding an acknowledgment of the man's concern while steadying his walk.

I just need to clear my head...someplace... he repeats like a mantra as he walks somewhat robotically toward--after a moment's hesitation--the Arboretum.

Kylah rubs her tired eyes for a few moments, taking calming breaths without much success. Her instincts again tell her to reach out to Velir. She lifts her communicator. Although uncertain how or even whether he will respond, she knows the matter is too urgent to hesitate. "Kylah to Rangin," she says, before blurting: "Velir, I am sorry to bother you. If possible I would like to talk--I need to talk. Please. Where are you?"

Velir feels the communicator go off and see it's Kylah. He sighs and takes a deep breath, wondering what she would want? He mused thinking of a few possibilities, but shook his head, because it was likely that anything he could think of would be different to what the reality of any situation was.

"Excuse me Fujishiro," Velir says almost automatically, "I believe I need to take this."

Standing up and moving away from the chair, bracing himself for what Kylah might say, he answers the call.

"Hello Kylah, how are you doing?", his voice calm and relaxed, "I'm in Sickbay, visiting."

Collins and Cooper finish their meal. Over a cup of decaf, Cooper gives a big yawn. "Sorry - it's been a long day."

Graham finds his way to the Arboretum. There is no one there.

It is now 1903 hours.

Kylah's heart gives a little flop when Velir mentions that he is in Sickbay, but then seconds later she digests the visiting part of his answer. Of course. Fujishiro.

"I am in trouble," she says bluntly. "May I see you?" Then she shakes her head, not wanting to give him time to turn her down, and lies: "Actually, I am not far from Sickbay now--I will see you there. Please, wait for me?"

It is not like her to end a conversation so abruptly, but her agitation and fear of rejection are overpowering, so he snaps her communicator shut and practically darts from the lounge to the corridor. In dread of his contacting her again and refusing to speak to her, Kylah clutches the device all the way to Sickbay. Once there, she forces herself to appear calm and asks politely if she may enter Lt. Fujishiro's room for just a moment.

Rangin looks down his communicator with a sense of befuddlement before shaking his head and heading back to the chair.

"Sorry Fujishiro, it appears Ensign Kylah requires my assistance and will be here shortly." he says with no small hint of irony in his voice. "However, that is still no excuse not to finish off the chapter. Now...where were we, ah yes."

It was raining, raining so hard it stung. But that still didn't stop me doing the one thing the others guards always failed to do. Look up...

Kylah's highly agitated state is not lessened by the time she's allowed to walk toward the room now devoted to Fujishiro's care. But once the doors open, she is met by a tableau that stops her short.

Lt. Fujishiro lies still, doing nothing but breathing. And beside her, seated and reading quietly aloud, is Velir. Almost immediately Kylah is struck by how gentle and soothing he sounds. The words he reads do not even matter, not to Kylah. They mention rain but Kylah does not know the context. All she knows is that she feels like a parched patch of earth suddenly granted the gift of a misty shower.

Her gaze shifts again to Fujishiro. So young. So lifeless. This could so easily have been Velir's fate, Kylah realizes with a shudder. The memory of the attacks haunts her, and she vividly remembers the vicious scratching, tearing, biting, gnarling creatures surrounding Velir in that transporter room. All that blood, his face white as chalk, his terrible fever... She closes her eyes. His ability to recover from such an attack where others did not is as astonishing as his having shaken off Palver's mind control. Are Coridanites so hardy? Is it just Velir?

Whatever the reason, Kylah's heart beats faster at the fear of losing him. She might never have known him in the first place--not the way she does now--had he succumbed to his wounds back on the Sakathian station.

Kylah steps further inside and leans against the wall, hugging herself and watching both of them, accompanied only by the omnipresent sound of medical equipment and Velir Rangin's sonorous voice. She despises herself knowing that all she brings this man is strife and chaos.

Just a little bit crestfallen, Collins nods. "Yeah, I guess so. Shall we go?" She says as she starts to stand. She becomes aware that her own mood is reverting to that of the night before. "Ben, I really don't want to be alone tonight. We don't have to do anything, just hold each other." She looks hopefully into Cooper's eyes.

Velir finishes reading the chapter and as he looks up he sees Kylah standing there watching them with a heartfelt expression on her face. "Well Fujishiro, I'll be back sometime to continue the story, hope you're enjoying it. Until next time."

Rangin stands up and stretches slightly before heading across to Kylah.

"Hello Kylah, how are you doing? You said you wanted to speak to me and it sounded urgent." Rangin inclines his head towards the exit for the pair of them to leave. "I take it you want to speak somewhere quiet and a little more private?"

Once outside and somewhere quieter, he looks askance at her trying to gauge how bad the situation is. "So, this trouble then. Is this about the AMR briefing, the mission or something else I don't know about?"

Graham finds a spot--preferably a dark corner--where he can lean against a bulkhead and feel the hum of the ship.

He slides to his knees and presses his forehead and the palms of his hands against the metal.

I miss you Janey.

He's drawn to reliving the very last moments they were together.

"Don't let the past consume you." If you can't work through this, if you go drink yourself asleep, are you really fit for duty, Booker?

He reaches for something. What if it had just been an accident... I'd miss her just as much, but I'd remember...

Jane standing beside him as his lieutenant's insignia was pinned on his uniform for the first time.

Watching the dean hand Jane her doctorate.

His hand on her shoulder the first time she held their daughter.

For awhile Booker kneels with his eyes closed and dreams of where they'd been.

Kylah looks around the hallway, realizes that privacy is mandatory, and almost wordlessly leads Velir as quickly as possible to her quarters. She enters first to make sure Collins is not inside, and then invites him in, so distracted she does not think to care if anyone sees a man entering the cabin with her.

Once the door closes behind him, Kylah swivels and clasps her hands together as if praying. "Velir, I do not know what to do," she blurts. "I have been contacted by a reporter from The Solar Post. Now that we have gone, journalists have swarmed to the planet like flies to a swamp. And now things are being reported about the investigation, which is natural enough, but it is not just--they are talking about everything, and for some reason they know how I felt about it all, what I said about it, and what others are saying about me, and--and other things, things more personal--"

The more she speaks the more she realizes she is babbling inanely. She purses her lips, takes a deep breath, and starts again, staring deep into Velir's eyes. "Have you... have you read any of the news that is being reported from the planet?"

Rangin is surprised to be led quickly to Kylah's quarters, but if she is that worried, about what ever it is, then Rangin begins to wonder just how bad the situation has become.

As Kylah then starts off, going nine to the dozen, Rangin starts to feel like he is caught in an ever increasing whirlwind. "Kylah, please, slow down, what news reports?" Rangin feels confused, a few minutes ago, he was reading happily away, able to forget the world and now it was all coming crashing in again.

"Ok, so let me get this straight. A reporter from the Solar Post has contacted you, things are being said about the investigation and...about you?" Rangin can just feel the details of the last few days coming to light across the quadrant. Admittedly, it was one of the biggest news scandals to come out over the last few years. But then there was also Kylah's own behaviour that could be considered of interest for the gossip columns, especially given the outburst from last night...and the video footage, and the Hwuen, and the...the meetings with Jan she just didn't want to discuss. Rangin wonders if he going to find out more from following the news than from Kylah.

Oh yes, a full scale scandal with one of the main parties in some very compromising positions...it would not be pretty.

"You're not seriously thinking of talking to him are you, especially after we were instructed otherwise. I mean, yes the Solar Post is fairly reputable, but what would they be looking for concerning you?"

He stops, mouth half open as he remembers something that happened in his own past, fortunately, something that most people had forgotten by now, well apart from a few close friends who would still tease him about it. But he suddenly wondered what would happen if someone started digging into his own diplomatic misdemeanours.

At Velir's question, which of course she knows she must answer, Kylah shakes her head and turns away. She can sense the weight behind his words; he is not merely asking about the reports. Her hands curl at her sleeves, pulling them over her ice-cold fingers.

"Some--some squalid outlet... not The Solar Post, but one I do not know well... they are linking me with Lord Fastolfe." She closes her eyes even though she is not facing him. "They did not use my name, but... their descriptions of my--my appearance, of my role in the investigation... My identity will be clear enough to everyone in the landing party, the security team, the hotel staff."

She takes a painfully deep breath and explains quickly what the report claimed Fastolfe said about their relationship. At the words 'torrid romance,' embarrassment washes over her anew, and presses the heel of her hand into her forehead as if that will allay her growing headache.

"The implication that I was involved with a murder suspect, that my feelings for him affected the investigation... I sound corrupt as well as immoral." She spins around, suddenly desperate to see Velir's face. "And it is false. I hope you know it is false, Velir. Utterly. Fastolfe once misinterpreted my motives when we were alone, and began an attempt to seduce me, he thought I wanted to--"

Kylah stops, hating that she must reveal this to Velir given what he likely already suspects of her. And hating that Fastolfe, like so many men she has met, thinks she exists merely as an object to be used for their pleasure.

She sweeps her hair behind her ears, angry. "If it were only this rumor, that would be bad enough. I can only imagine how my reputation on the ship will sink further, and I might be questioned by Vargas or Cheverez regarding my alleged bias and misbehavior. Still, I can withstand that.

"But... but this Post reporter... he said that he knew of my dissatisfaction with the way we handled the investigation. And there was more. He warned me that I must to speak to him and get my story out, soon. Because journalists who are apparently not as 'nice' as he are talking to several people, and... I dread to think what might be said.

"Velir, what should I do? I feel I must talk to him. If I do not, I might be excoriated. So many things could be taken and twisted into ugliness..." Her gaze flickers to Velir's shoes as she remembers all the encounters she had on OCIII: with Halsey, the Hwuen, that foolish security guard who drooled after her while she was trying to watch the nightclub video, even the other Yorktown officers.

Even my mission leaders, she thinks. Graham's reminder only moments ago about his forbearance in not reporting her hurts her anew. She ends sadly, "There is more than one person who could harm me, if they wished. It is more than just Fastolfe and Jan Svehla."

Cooper looks down, concerned, into Collins's eyes. "Of course we can. You know I'm here for you, Jer. Whatever you want."

Graham has the Arboretum all to himself, surrounded by the scents and sights of growing things.

Rangin starts to pace around the quarters, thinking out loud to the air around him.

"Ok, let us see what we have here. Well, if its appeared in any kind of gossip column, its not worth the effort to even bother with." Rangin sighs and roll his eyes, "gossip like that tends to vanish quickly, unless you give it any basis. Which is what a reporter, any reporter worth their salt, would be trying to find."

Rangin begins his pacing again, "And of course, it is false. I mean after all, that would imply that at least three gentleman on the planet had come to know your affection to one degree or another, in such a short space of time, how could anyone think otherwise." His voice is dripping with sarcasm as stares at the floor. "An Elasian with a sex drive, what next, a human that can breathe." Shaking his head while drawing in a deep breath,

Rangin looks up and begins again in a calmer voice. "Alright, let's try this again, from the top."

"We know this: that a reporter has contacted you and said you need to give him a story. So, how did he contact you without anyone else knowing. Our names and our actions will be all over that resort, there is nothing we can do about that. The reporters will put together whatever they need to do, from bits and pieces to construct something that will sell a story. There is a good reason you only talk to reporters in an official capacity where there is no room for misunderstandings, or better yet, don't talk to them at all."

"In our favour, such as it is, is the Federation. This entire event is showing them in a very bad light, nothing is going to get published properly, until someone has worked out what the Federation's official position is. Also, the Federation is not going to be happy about the person who was critical to solving the case getting a lot of bad press. It makes prosecuting people, very, very difficult, when the defence can just point at the investigating team."

Rangin shudders slightly, yes, each of the investigating team had had their own problems crop up in the last few days. And previous to that, the smartest thing he had ever done was keep his mouth firmly closed. Rangin hopes that investigative reporters just remain current to what had happened here and no-one went digging in their backgrounds.

"Ok: The obvious answer is to talk to Lt. Thalen. He is probably aware already, but it would be a whole lot better to go to him with your story, than to have him come to you looking for answers. Get the story right, before talking to a reporter, even possibly one as noble as working for the Solar Post. Communication and politics, the right message. It's probably something you are far better at than I."

Rangin stops and thinks for a moment, then frowns at Kylah. "You are sure, he is from the Solar Post and not just saying that?"

T'Var visualizes herself on Vulcan, enjoying quality time with her family....

Playing chess with her mother. Taking a long walk with her siblings. Trying to help her father cook the evening meal.

She feels a sense of calm surround her. Perhaps she should contact her parents and discuss with them Palver's supposed mind control. They have always provided her with excellent counsel. And yet, she does not wish to admit that her mind may not be as strong and capable as everyone believes it to be.

T'Var ends her meditation. This quiet time has been useful, but Palver's actions are still very disturbing to her.

Graham's communicator beeps; it is the First Officer. "Report to my office at once, if you please, Mr. Graham."

The Security man finds the First Officer alone in his spartan office. Vargas does not invite him to sit, but folds his hands and says, "The Captain and I have been reviewing the AMRs with great interest. Several of your colleagues have criticized other members of the extended landing party for disobedience to orders and conduct that had the potential to be life-threatening. Although you were yourself stunned by Vice Adm. Hardin, your AMR makes no such statements. I wonder, Ensign, if you would like to revise your AMR at this time?"

"I do not know for certain he is from the Post, no," Kylah says very slowly. In truth she is thinking less about Velir's question than of his earlier words: At least three gentlemen on the planet had come to know your affection to one degree or another, in such a short space of time, how could anyone think otherwise... An Elasian with a sex drive.

His bitterness makes Kylah feel as if she has swallowed broken glass. The irony is that until she stepped onto this ship, her reputation at the Academy was that of a freakish, snobbish prude--some whispered the nickname Princess Frigid--at least, after she'd turned down the advances of varyingly gendered classmates and more than one staff member. And now, even Velir seems to think...

Kylah lets that wash away and focuses on his advice. "Walcott somehow patched through to my communicator. I am to contact him in return with my answer. Whether that makes him legitimate or not... I do not know if it matters. I suppose Starfleet might allow me to speak to a respected journalist, although I doubt even that. Naturally you are right, much does depend on how they approach the corruption scandal, that is far more important.

"Right now I fear I cannot see past what feels like my own inevitable downfall. If any of this gets back to my planet... my family..." The possibility sickens her. She can only imagine Aldaan's face. "The assumptions about Elasian women are tolerated, yes, but I--I have certain expectations placed on me. I must not become part of a scandal, I am supposed to fit in, easily ignored..."

With a shake of her head, she dares not continue down this road. "Of course you are correct to advise me to speak to Lt. Thalen. I just--I am afraid that he will confirm the order to say nothing. And then I will have no recourse if something should... come out. Nevertheless there is no other choice, as a member of Starfleet. I must do my duty as I am told." No different from at home. I am now ruled by two masters instead of just one.

Suddenly she stares up at him. "Be honest, Velir. You know me better than anyone else in the Federation. Look how you have reacted to seeing one side of a story. You want answers. You want the truth. You will not be satisfied if I remain silent, will you? Will you just forget everything, will it all recede into the past without another word? I do not think so, no matter how much I may wish it.

"But if I had come to you first, if I had come to you and explained everything that happened with Jan, Fastolfe, Graham, Ferguson, even one of the resort guards..." Her voice drops to a trembling murmur. "Would I see the same judgment and resentment lurking behind your eyes?"

Graham stands at attention as Vargas addresses him.

"There were a number of honest mistakes, as well as cases of poor judgment, while I was in command of the mission--for which I take for responsibility, sir," he says in reply.

"As you saw in my report, I included two 'atta-girl's'."

Although he intends to maintain a formal and neutral demeanor, he can't help but frown slightly and tighten his jaw.

"There were two things that warranted action as clearly unacceptable," he continues, nodding slightly. "One, some Security personnel may have expressed a, uh, lack of enthusiasm for being placed under Ensign Kylah's direction. Two, she did not receive the back-up I'd ordered--or a replacement--just prior to confronting Mrs. Hsu. It's crystal clear that should not have happened."

"My higher order concern, taking the overall mission into account, is building unit cohesion. Under the circumstances I felt it was best to deal with both verbally, directly with the crew involved, rather than in the written record." He pauses for a moment. "That is still my position, sir."

"I see," says Vargas, not sounding surprised. "Which Security personnel, in particular, fell short of your expectations in those regards?"

As Rangin listens to Kylah, her words only seem to ask more questions than answer any.

"Kylah," he says quietly, "you haven't told me or explained what happened. Will I forget or let it go. No, no I won't, because I care. You asked for my help, so I will give it, even though you..." Rangin shakes his head wondering if she will ever trust him enough to fully tell him what happened. "...other people though, curiousity is a natural thing, but if they don't care about it, it will soon escape their attention for the next piece of news."

"As for this story reaching out, I'm sorry but it has already happened. and the only thing you can do is not add to it. I hate to point this out, but Hardin being corrupt is a scandal, Fastolfe proclaiming a torrid affair is not." Rangin shrugs wondering what to say next. "I can't begin to understand what pressures your family have placed you under, but surely they will listen to you and not the news about this. And how can I be the person who knows you best in Starfleet. We've not known each other for that long, there must be other friends you can talk to."

Rangin looks across at Kylah and smiles wryly, "Besides, though you may try to fit in, you are certainly not unnoticeable and definitely not ignorable." After all, he thought, who else would be so bold to stand up for what she believed in against anyone.

"Look, if you want to defend yourself, we need to work out how to convince Lt Thalen, that it is in your...Starfleet's interest to follow up on this contact. Besides, it really does make you wonder how good security is on this ship, if someone can just patch through to you."

"Security," Kylah mutters, sighing as she glances over to Collins's side of the room. "We know well enough of the problems in that area. Besides, I have learned that there seems to be no shield strong enough to protect me from others. Or my own folly." Her gaze shifts to the bed, then quickly darts away.

And it is because I try to put up shields that I do not have friends. She briefly thinks of T'Var, whom she wishes she could call a friend; the older woman has been kind to her despite their differences, and despite her clear disapproval of Kylah's actions. And of course, T'Var knows one of the biggest secrets she possesses. Yet Kylah has no idea of the Vulcan likes her.

She shakes her head. She does not want to discuss the embarrassing, solitary existence she leads; no one finds such neediness attractive.

"As far as the scandal... yes, of course, Hardin's corruption is the more important story. It is vital, especially if it leads to other such revelations. But think of how the other tale has already been spun--and can get worse, once they learn more.

"On the one hand, we have an old man perpetrating financial misdoings regarding a resort license and the ensuing violent cover-up. On the other, there is the Federation's most notorious media superstar, framed for murder, who beds a low-ranking member of the Elasian royal family playing dress-up in a Starfleet uniform while she is on duty. This dilettante nymphomaniac then uses her influence to clear his name."

Kylah has to wince--the words sound even worse once she hears them aloud. "Oh Velir. If you believe Hardin's political malfeasance will be of more general interest than the lurid impropriety between the sole Elasian royal in Starfleet and an omnisexual media star, your opinion of your fellow beings' sense of proportion is far higher than my own. And all this is before any other unsavory extras those reporters might find." Panic starts to flare up again, and she steps forward, wishing he would hold her, afraid he will leave.

"Do you think--could they throw me out of Starfleet for this? Conduct unbecoming an officer? I cannot go back. I was sent here to be part of Starfleet, to excel, and if I fail now..." Kylah closes her eyes. Of the three options her uncle allowed for her future, this underhanded life as an exile among unknown, feared races in Starfleet was the least repulsive. She swallows and takes a deep breath. "I cannot fail," she whispers, then looks at Velir again. "Will you... will go with me? To see Lt. Thalen?"

Rangin steps back, turns away and throws his hands up in the air, "Oh honestly. I'm not going to argue about how good or bad it can look. You know better than I how a story can be shaped by those telling it whether for good or bad. What I can say is that, it does go away, after a while, when the next story comes along. Until that time, well such is life."

Wondering what is going through her mind, Rangin can hear how desperate she is and his head bows to the floor. "They are not going to throw you out of Starfleet, you caught Hardin and Palver. They would be foolish to ruin any chance of a conviction with your dismissal."

Slowly turning back round to face her, and looking at how nervous she is, he wishes he could hold her tight and tell her it will all go away. "Yes, I will go with you to see Lt Thalen," he sighs, "I would have dragged you there if you hadn't asked, because you would just have snuck off and try to find this reporter otherwise."

Rangin so wants to put a hand on her cheek to brush away the hint of tears that threaten to break, but settles for placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it tight. He knows she isn't telling him everything and he could be making more of a fool of himself.

Then even though he knows the woman in front of him doesn't trust him, Rangin holds out his hand to Kylah. "You haven't failed yet. Let's go do something about it, shall we?"

Kylah just stares at him. At first, when he flung his arms up and turned his back on her, she gave a sharp, silent inhale and had to fight the temptation to crawl under her bed, as she used to do as a child. He is fed up with me, she realized in horror. She has brought Velir Rangin, the most patient and calm man she knows, to the point where he cannot even look at her. And then this compassionate man brushed aside her fears of reprisal. Such is life.

Velir has reached his limit of tolerance with her, and she cannot blame him. He continues to speak and his manner softens, because kindness is his nature, but while Kylah listens she is stricken by how close she must be to losing his friendship. I must not anger him further, she thinks, nodding tightly when he agrees to take her to Thalen. Then he touches her shoulder and it should be calming, it should be a relief. But almost immediately, like a flood of water through an opened faucet, his emotions connect to her through the fingertips brushing her collarbone.

He knows she is wary of him. And he does not trust her.

Kylah tries not to show her inward flinch. She wonders why he persists with her--and how much longer he will do so. How thin is the ice under her feet? What inevitable mistake will be the one that breaks the world beneath her and sends her plummeting into dark, bone-chilling loneliness? It is only a matter of time. She must do what little she can to postpone the inevitable. Pacify him, please him, pretend to be... well, whatever he wants. Up to a point.

Looking at his hand, now extended toward her, she slips her cold fingers around his, savoring the warmth during a brief squeeze. "Thank you," she says softly, glancing up at him through lowered eyelashes. She is in hostess mode, the role she was forced to perform after her mother died. She hated it then, faking calm, faking confidence, faking pleasure. Now she is grateful for the practice. "You are right, of course," she adds. "I am sorry for being foolish. Let us go."

She releases his hand--they cannot be seen in any such intimacy on this ship, it will be awkward enough if someone sees them together--and then moves toward the door, each step smooth and even, appropriate for the senior woman of the House of the Silver Weeping Tree. Before the door opens, she pauses and turns back to him. If nothing else, her words are sincere when she speaks. "I hope you know I am very grateful, Velir. I will feel better knowing you are by my side."

Leaning in to him, she kisses him on the cheek, feeling a slight hint of stubble against her before she draws away. Then she moves forward. There is no other direction for her to go.

When Kylah speaks, the words come out smoothly, but feel like ice across his skin. The direct looks and tremulous voice replaced by something coy, cold and calculating. He had seen that look before, an appeasement to his sensibilities, a pacified and demure pose and it began to set off alarm bells as old memories began to flood back. What does she want?

As she walks past Rangin, he can feel the touch on his hand, the smell of her hair as it floats by, the almost intoxicating sense as she glides away. He breathes it in deeply wondering how many more times he will get the opportunity before he is discarded for someone else. After all, as she makes it perfectly clear, she is Elasian royalty and her image, her status and all those little things mean more to her than anything.

Unable to tell if her words ring true, as she leans in to kiss him, Rangin savours it, wondering how many more she may bestow and he wonders if this is how it will be. Fleeting glances, forgotten answers and him as a puppet to her. No, not again. If she didn't trust him, then there was no point in thinking on it. She needed time, that much Rangin knows, especially so soon after the events at the resort. But there would come a point, and probably sooner rather than later, where she would have to make a choice.

He had hoped that this time would be different, that the past is not coming back to haunt him, but now he is no longer sure. Either trust him...or don't, because he was damned if he was going through that experience again. Only this time he had nowhere to run to.

As Rangin follows Kylah out of the door, he can hear a woman's laughter echoing hollowly from the cabin behind him in triumph.

The two find Lt. Thalen in a crew lounge on Deck 8, sipping a glass of some dark, steaming liquid and writing on a data tablet. Three people - one in Command yellow, the other two in Engineering red - are seated together at a table outside of earshot, drinking, talking and laughing. The young Andorian man smiles and invites you both to sit down.

Kylah is compelled to return the lieutenant's smile; in her brief time on the ship, he has been one of the most pleasant and affable toward her.

Of course, that is before he hears what she has to say.

She glances at Velir to include him in the smile. But she knows he is unhappy, knows that despite her attempts to show him that she can pull herself together when necessary, he is put off by her manner and even more leery of her for some reason. Perhaps it is too little, too late. Still, he did come with her. Velir is an honorable man who will stick to a promise.

"I hope we are not disturbing you, sir," Kylah says, returning her attention to Thalen as she sits opposite him. "I would come back another time, but I am afraid I have something rather urgent to discuss with you, if I may. It involves the mission... the public reporting on the mission. I do not know if you..." She trails off, her strength failing her for a few seconds, but she gathers herself together again. "I suppose you must have seen some of the news items by now?"

"With regard to the former, sir, if I may speak freely, I'm pretty goddamned unhappy about the idea of any officer so much as rolling their eyes out of turn, but as I see it trying to identify specific people and actions would take a Spanish Inquisition-style effort and still leave us with a lot of he-said-she-said, so I already gathered the whole team together to put the kibosh on any carping or disrespect."

He pauses and frowns slightly again, his brow furrowing. "Please bear in mind sir, I haven't yet spoken with these two individuals, but as I see it, nothing can change the objective fact that Ens. Kylah had to operate without backup, which shouldn't have happened. I'd assigned Lt. Garcia--a crypto guy--to that role, and as I understand it Lt. Kjaerstad drafted him for another task--without an immediate backfill. As I said, I don't know the story from his point of view yet, but s I see it we're talking physics here, bodies not where they are supposed to be. That shouldn't happen."

His frown deepens. "The big picture, however, is that I personally led the pursuit and final apprehension of Vice-admiral Hardin. That was thinking like a grunt, not a commander--taking the entirety of the situation on OC3 into account, I believe I should have maintained uninterrupted operational control and delegated that task." His face returns to a neutral expression. "I will amend my AMR to reflect this if you wish, sir."

"Could we go to your cabin? I don't want to disturb my roommate." Collins asks quietly.

"No, you're not disturbing me," Thalen says. "And yes, I have seen some of the reports." Kylah notices he looks tired. "We've had heavy comm traffic all day, from here to the surface, and to the Pyongyang, Starbase 27 and even Earth. This is big news throughout the Federation."

Vargas nods thoughtfully. "Yes, I think it would be best if you amended your AMR, Ensign. Completeness is a greater virtue in official reports than tact, or protecting subordinates, as I see it. And of course I appreciate your candor with me now. Anything else? Very well, then, thank you. Dismissed."

Cooper says to Collins with a smile, "Yes, that'll be fine. Let's go."

Nodding, Kylah self-consciously leans forward closer to Thalen, wishing to hide herself from the others in the lounge even though they probably cannot hear what is being said. "I also had more comm traffic myself," she murmurs. "A reporter claiming to be from The Solar Post somehow got through directly to me. His name is Walcott, and he wanted me to talk. He said he had heard I was critical of the investigation, and that I had had... personal dealings with some of the suspects."

A wave of unreality hits her, as if she is in a mad dream. Someone who keeps secrets so closely, forced to repeat these accusations over and over again--now to her superior. Would this breach of her privacy continue until she found herself talking to Singh herself?

"He went on to say he was speaking with others on the planet, as were other reporters, and warned--or threatened--that I would be well advised to tell my story now, to him, before his less reputable colleagues went forward without my input." As hard as she has tried to maintain Thalen's eye contact, she has to look down, choosing to focus on the hot drink instead. "Given that another outlet has already reported Lord Fastolfe's lies, I do not know what else he thinks he could reveal, but..." She is very conscious of Velir's presence. Will he say anything if she does not tell Thalen what she most fears--that they know about her and Jan? Or will he remain silent, despite the disappointment emanating from him like the steam from Thalen's drink?

"...But I can imagine even worse lies than Fastolfe's traveling from the resort through subspace by now. Even parts of the truth can be taken out of context and could be troublesome for--for the judicial process and me, personally and professionally." Reluctantly she lifts her gaze back to Thalen's. "Sir, I know Cmdr. Vargas ordered us to say nothing to the press. I understand that and have not disobeyed, other than to tell this Walcott person that I would have to report our conversation and get back to him with an answer. That is why I am here, Lieutenant. I need your advice. On the one hand, I do not want to talk. It goes against everything I wish. But I fear the narrative they will draw on their own if I do not give the jackals something to sate their appetite. What should I do?"

Rangin accepts the seat to one side with a nod to the superior officer and sits straight, to allow Kylah to speak to him clearly and to at least be there to provide moral support. Then a sudden realisation hits him, he has no idea what the news reports are, just what Kylah had told him. That the report said she had had an affair with Fastolfe. As Kylah begins to speak, he stays silent but nods attentively in the right places as if to confirm what she is saying is true, even though he has no idea what the truth currently is.

Rangin is grateful that Kylah is speaking to someone, instead of trying to do things herself. He flashes back to the resort where she insisted she was fine with a sprained ankle. Persistent and grouchy about it, he wondered why she was suddenly so calm and cold in the cabin. At least, this time, she isn't trying to go off and handle it herself. Regardless of how he felt, no-one needed the kind of gossip that could be made up, least of all Kylah.

Thalen thinks and then says, "I don't have the authority to let you speak to the media, Kylah, and even if I did, I would advise against it. There's still an active murder investigation going on, and anything you said, even to a reputable news source, might be misconstrued or become an issue in any later trial. You haven't been mentioned by name in any of the coverage yet, at least none that I've seen, and it's possible you never will. If you'd like to take this up with the First Officer or even the Captain, I'd be glad to come along."

A shroud of impending doom seems to settle over Kylah; she finds it difficult to see Thalen--it is as if she is caught in a blinding mist, with the Communications Officer yards away instead of just across the table.

She did not really expect a different answer. But she had foolishly let herself hope for one anyway.

"I understand." Even her calm, hollow voice sounds distant and unreal to her. "Thank you, sir, that is a kind offer. I would not wish to bother you further." After a pause in which she tries to calculate the possible outcomes of avoiding taking things to the Yorktown's most senior officers, she inhales slowly. "Do you think I should tell them? If it turns out that I am never mentioned by this Walcott or any other reporter, I would rather not have wasted their time or harmed their impression of me." As if it could sink further. "But if I say nothing to Cmdr. Vargas or the Captain and then they learn of it all in the media... Would that not be worse? To blindside them with such a thing?"

Both grim prospects curl her fingers around the edge of the table, gripping it for strength. The fingertips turning bloodless with effort is the only outward distress she reveals; the shell of her maintains its semblance of control while she forces herself to look from Thalen to Velir and back again. "What do you think, Lt. Thalen? Ensign Rangin, I would be grateful for your advice as well."

"You've now told me about your contact from The Solar Post, and if you have no further contact with that reporter, we can leave it at that, if you wish." Thalen smiles wryly. "I wouldn't want to bother the Captain or First Officer needlessly. They have a... I'm sorry, Kylah, but are you all right? You don't look well. Would you like some tea or something?"

"Yes. I mean, no, thank you, I am fine, sir." Kylah rouses herself enough to put on a smile and force her hands back onto her lap. "I am grateful for your advice and will abide by it. I do not want to cause any trouble for anyone. I did tell Mr. Walcott I would get back to him, but I will just say I... I have nothing to say. That will be all right?"

Graham nods to acknowledge his dismissal.

He sends a request asking Kjaerstad and Garcia to meet him in a meeting room in 15 minutes.

He fins a padd on which to amend his AMR. He immediately makes an entry stating his conclusion that he should have remained in direct control of the situation at all times by delegating pursuit of Hardin, then keeps it as "draft" and still open for editing, taking the padd with him.

Thalen rubs his chin and says, "Why don't I contact him for you? That way you won't be subject to any browbeating or begging for a quotation."

Lts. JG Haakon Kjaerstad and Ernesto Garcia show up to meet with Graham. Garcia is a little late, and is rubbing his eyes; he had been about to go to sleep.

Hidden under the table, Kylah hands on her lap turn into fists. "If you think that is the wisest course, Lt. Thalen. But I assure you, when I choose to keep silent, I remain so--no matter who is browbeating me." The unfortunate phrasing nearly makes her wince; she hopes Velir does not think she means him.

Regret draws her forward again, and she speaks candidly. "The truth is, I am... I am uncomfortable with having someone speak to the reporter on my behalf, even though I know it is often standard procedure. It is just that I fear that it will make me appear as if I have more--something to hide. In addition, he might ask you the questions he would have asked me. You would know what Walcott has heard about me before I do. Which might be personally embarrassing."

Kylah flushes and returns to sitting straight. "But I understand you must do what you think best, sir," she repeats quietly. "I should not take up more of your time. Please know I am very sorry for all this. I would have liked my time on the Yorktown to begin more propitiously, so you would think of me as a credit, not a stain."

Rangin sits and listens to the conversation between Lt. Thalen and Kylah not wanting to intrude and digesting the points made back and forth. Its uncomfortable to hear and he fidgets slightly as he sees Kylah put forward her fears. Lt Thalen's response make a certain amount of sense, but Rangin doesn't feel they quite go far enough and there are other things they could do.

As the conversation comes to a close, he feels impelled to at least add his thoughts for consideration.

"If I may, Sir, Ens. Kylah could I perhaps suggest the following. I would agree that seeking audience with either Capt. Singh or Cmdr. Vargas is perhaps a step too far, but I do think warning them this has occurred, sending a message to them, might be prudent. Then if they wish to take it further, they can do so. Besides, we don't know if this is the only time someone has attempted to contact someone on board the Yorktown. I believe they might prefer to be aware and for nothing to occur, than to not be told and be blindsided."

Looking back and forth between the pair to see how it went down, Rangin still plows on regardless, "As for Mr Walcott, I would not engage him at all. Don't leave a comment, don't try to communicate with him. I believe he has thrown out a hook and is waiting to see if you bite on it. If he is as sincere and honest as he claims to be, I would have expected a more formal approach to have been made instead of a clandestine request."

"I would also hasten to add that being the prime person to catch both Vice Adm. Hardin and Mr Palver would mean your start on the Yorktown could be classed as exemplary." Rangin still did not understand why Kylah felt so almost ashamed of what she had achieved.

It's then that he can feel his stomach rumbling and he blushes slightly as he is sure the others could hear it over the low chatter around the room. "Excuse me, It's been a long day and I haven't eaten yet."

Jeremi hugs Ben. "I just need to grab my night shirt from my quarters." She takes his hand and starts for the exit.

Thalen stares at Kylah. "A stain? You're no such thing, Ensign. Please don't think that, not even for a moment. You're a valued member of this crew, and will long remain so, I hope." He thinks a moment. "If you'd prefer to contact the reporter again yourself, you may, but keep it very short and say nothing substantive. As Mr. Rangin suggests, I'll have a word with the Captain, but will keep your name out of it. Any objection?"

Cooper goes ahead to his quarters to wait for Collins.

Kylah looks gratefully at Velir as he gives his advice, even though he is suggesting speaking to Vargas and Singh--something she would rather not do. Then Thalen speaks up and adds his kind words and offer.

"Thank you... both of you," she says. "I appreciate your words although... well, I can only hope I live up to your estimation of me, Lieutenant. I do not fully agree with Mr. Rangin's over-generous assessment of my role in the investigation, and I doubt anyone else would--or did--cast it in such a light. But I do thank you," she adds quietly to Velir.

"I suppose you are right about giving the Captain forewarning of what will... what might happen regarding the press," she continues, even though the prospect makes her ill. "So--so yes, Lt. Thalen, if you would tell the Captain, I would be extremely grateful."

She thanks Thalen again for his advice and willingness to assist her before standing up. Having heard the audible sign of Velir's hunger earlier, Kylah now notices that she too is famished. All the worrying has made her feel too nauseous to eat. "If you will excuse me, Lieutenant, I should make the call and, like Mr. Rangin, take care of my hunger. I promise both of you I will say nothing to Walcott whatsoever."

With a last brief smile at Thalen, she leaves the table. Waiting for Velir in the corridor, when he joins her she will hold up a hand. "I know you do not think I should contact him at all, Velir, but I truly feel I must. If he does ask questions, I will not answer them--but at least they will tell me what is coming."

Graham gestures to encourage them to sit down. He sits and sets the padd on the table in front of him.

"Thank you for coming, lieutenants--and I'm sorry to disturb your evening." He rubs his chin and then folds his hands in front of himself on the table, just to the right of the padd. "It's come to my attention that we had a tactical failure on OC3 that simply shouldn't have happened: at the time Ens. Kylah confronted Mrs. Hsu in the transporter room, she had no backup. I'd assigned Lt. Garcia to that task, but when push came to shove, neither he nor anybody else was on-scene."

He pauses, looking at each officer in equal proportion. "You should know that I have already amended my AMR to reflect the fact that given the totality of circumstances when I received command--what'd happened, what I knew about the team and the situation, as well as how much I didn't know, being new to the ship--I should have retained direct operational control at all times rather than going 'off the grid' while pursuing Hardin."

"I'd like all our AMRs to reflect a consensus on what happened that makes us and our colleagues smarter about making sure this sort of disconnect doesn't happen again." He shrugs just slightly. "I know it's a little awkward given our ranks to order a verbal report now that we're 'outside of mission' from each you...but we're all professionals, so let's just get to it, without formalities, shall we?"

Collins walks briskly to her cabin, collects a nightshirt and a few things for the morning, puts them in a small satchel, then heads to Cooper's cabin.

Rangin sighs at Kylah's insistence at going through with contacting the reporter, but nods his head in agreement. He cannot help but feel she is making a mistake, but it is her choice to make.

"I understand even if I do not agree. I will happily support you, after all you achieved." The words seem slightly bitter as he utters them, but regardless of how he feels towards Kylah, she should still be backed up over what happened on OCIII.

"If you want to let me know how it goes, I would be grateful for your company in the main mess for dinner. If you would like to join me?"

Velir's words are appropriate for one colleague to another--no more, no less. Kylah feels her thin veneer of control cracking and knows she had better leave before it breaks altogether.

"Yes," she says, her voice as even and still as an undisturbed pond. "I would like that very much. I will be there as soon as I can." Tentatively she touches his wrist lightly with the pads of her fingers, hoping for some sense of connection, and adds in a near whisper, "Not just to tell you what happens, but because I want to be with you."

With a last hopeful look she turns and hurries away, heading to her cabin. He will support me after all I have achieved. That is it? Not because he cares? Kylah's throat is constricting and makes her breathing more labored, almost like groans. Despair threatens to overtake her by the time she returns to her room--again, fortunate that Collins is not here, although Kylah does wonder where the other woman is.

She sits on her bed and stares at the communicator in her hand. It seems impossible to believe she has ruined things utterly between them. Eyes closed, she takes as calming a breath as she can. I cannot think about this now. First she must deal with this reporter--and perhaps Velir is right, perhaps the media will focus on the more important story.

Next they must move beyond this mission, beyond this planet and everything that happened on it. Only then can she do whatever it takes to regain his warmth and affection. The moments of happiness they have had together are so precious to her, she cannot let them slip away. She cannot.

Kylah opens her eyes. Gathering her courage, she opens her communicator and, using the logged channel saved on her device, attempts to connect with Clive Walcott.

Kylah cannot reach Walcott on his own communicator - the call will not go through, as he'd mentioned it might not - but she is able to reach him through the resort's main desk. "Thank you for calling back, Ensign," he says when he answers. "I'm on a pretty tight deadline, but I just have a few questions for you."

Garcia tells Graham, "Mr. Kjaerstad asked me to help review security footage and I went there. I had no reason to think Mr. Kylah was in any danger at the time."

Kjaerstad nods briskly. "That's correct. I advised you, Ensign" - he emphasizes the word just a little bit - "that I had made a reassignment, given all that was going on and the possible loss of power at the resort, and that Mr. Garcia was watching the footage. I hope I didn't overstep my bounds, but I don't believe you objected at the time. I have to admit, I assumed you had assigned someone else to be Mr. Kylah's backup, even before it was apparent she would need it."

Kylah steels herself and hopes she is doing the right thing. "Please wait, Mr. Walcott. I only contacted you because I said I would, and did not wish to go back on my word. I am sorry, but I cannot answer any questions."

Walcott says hurriedly, "I'm very sorry to hear that. This is a very important story, and it would be a better one for having you be able to tell your side of it. Let me just ask, how early in your investigation did Palver become a suspect? And is it true that you and another officer, a...," he seems to be checking his notes, "...Ens. Graham, were both attacked by Vice Adm. Hardin?"

As she walks back to Cooper's cabin, Collins sees a pregnant blonde woman in Science blue walking past. Collins doesn't recognize her, but the woman nods, smiles and says, "Good evening, Lt. Collins."

"Good evening," Collins replies reflexively, although she finds herself focused on the crewman's abdomen. She stops in her tracks and watches as the young woman walks away. She feels a tightening around her heart, her breathing rate increases, and she collapses in sobs on the floor. She doesn't even care if anyone sees her crying. She curls up, hugging her knees, and lets the world pass her by.

Rangin feels touches Kylah touch his wrist, such a little, quiet gesture but meaning so much between the pair of them, but one that makes him feel glad all the same.

because I want to be with you... Does she really mean it, the last look back so full of hope that there is something between them and as Kylah turns, Rangin holds his wrist wondering if she really meant it, lost in a little world of his own and watching her sway as she walks away.

Rangin cannot fathom it out. She doesn't trust him over what had happened on the planet, she isn't telling him everything and she certainly seems to want him for something. That switch in her cabin just brings back so many unwanted memories.

You know me better than anyone else in the Federation... Does he really? Is Rangin her closest friend after only a few weeks. Surely Kylah would have made other friends during her time in the Academy. Rangin's stomach begins to churn and not from the lack of food, but from the guilt that he may be turning away from her as her only friend away from home. Is that what she wanted? A friend. Then again, what kind of person has no friends after four years. Just who is he mixing himself up with. In fact, who is Princess Kylah? Rangin pauses slightly as he realises that he really doesn't know that much about her.

Turning to head for the turbolift, he makes his decision, because it doesn't actually matter what kind of person she is, what Rangin is going to do is the same. Find out about her.

As he rides up to the mess hall, he considers that she is pleasant company and does make him feel good. But then that was always the way, only this time he might spend a little more time getting to know the woman in question.

Graham frowns slightly. "Let's focus on the lessons we ought to take away--specifically what would have changed the way things went down and prevent this kind of disconnect in the future," he says slowly. "There was a lot going on, dividing our attention, that's true," he continues, nodding. Then he raises an eyebrow. slightly disturbed by their statements implying there was no reason to think she'd be in any danger.

"But are we all clear here that the obvious tactical assumption that we all should have all been operating under at the time was that Ens. Kylah was on her way to confront either a murderer or an accomplice to murder?" He shakes his head slightly. "I grasp the tick-tock here, it all sounds very logical about how she wound up on her own--but at any point, any single one of us taking initiative on that assumption" he emphasizes "any one of us" and "taking initiative" slightly. "Would have caused a different result?"