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Krako is focused on Cledd, and Krako's mook doesn't seem to realize the channel is still open. Rangin can hear vague crowd noises in the ballroom, although the communicator's microphone is too far away from Krako and Cledd for him to make out what they're saying.
Nia raises an eyebrow at Yommyx's decision, but only spares a brief second to think Yeah, good luck with that.
"All right," she says into her communicator. "The problem solved itself." Stupidly, but that's Yommyx's lookout. "Chief, please energize--either splitting us up using Rangin's suggestion or, if you don't know the Paramount's layout well enough, sending all of us wherever you sent Graham and the rest."
It strikes her for an instant that she and Rawlings are the only ones who haven't seen Krako--and vice versa, obviously. They might make a better pairing if they want to go in incognito and avoid being marked as a threat. Then, just as quickly as it came, she dismisses that thought. Double-T's gonna be considered a threat by anyone with a working set of eyes.
She sends a quick 'we got this' look of confidence, with a fleeting smile and nod, to all three of her team. Inwardly, she thinks: If one of you gets phasered 'cause of me I swear I'll go back to tightening lug nuts in Engineering.
Kylah does not react well to Cledd's dismissive order or Krako's presumption. Further, she knows she is useless here--the only purpose she can serve is as a distraction. Getting attention away from Mr. Graham and Dr. T'Var is the only contribution she can make. I will only get stunned, she thinks optimistically.
She lifts her chin and steps forward. "If you admire the Federation so much, Mr. Krako," she says loudly, hiding the impossibly rapid beating of her heart, "You would not allow your underling to threaten that man, who is obviously from Starfleet. Anyone can see he is a law officer, and someone more experienced than you, regardless of your laughable costume. Your interference will not be appreciated. Certainly not if you hurt anyone."
Graham can't make out what's being discussed but is weighing the option of flipping the table and opening fire versus letting things play out...leaning toward the latter, since the civilians in the club and old fashioned slug throwing weapons won't mix well...
After he puts the communicator down, he tries to shift his eyes (and his head, just subtly enough) to catch T'Var's eye--and very subtly, just over the table, makes a "hold" spread finger gesture.
He can't hear details, but he sees Kylah step forward and raise her chin, speaking forcefully...
Lizzy squares her jaw and lifts her chin, marshalling her courage to challenge him, quenching her tears to tell him she's in the right and there's no way he can stop her from doing what he just tried to forbid....
His heart is breaking because this moment would never happen if he were a better father...
He's so proud his little girl is so strong, and so brave...
Nguyen says, "I found an empty room that's big enough for you four right there at the Paramount. Energizing... now."
Onn, Rawlings, Garcia and Rangin disappear into the transporter effect, tingling and seemingly weightless for a moment, and then reappear in a dressing room of some kind. Fancy women's dresses are on hangers along one wall, and there are large, brightly-lit mirrors along another, and several small chairs. No one else is in the room. You can hear nothing from outside.
Krako looks right at Kylah and smiles. "Starfleet, eh? So your pal didn't just pick up a spare communicator somewhere? Well, that's good. That'll save time. What's your name, sweetheart? And how many of these folks are with you? Him and who else?"
T'Var is tensed and appears ready to move but, seeing Graham's subtle gesture, she nods just as subtly and stands her ground.
Krako's mooks have disarmed just about everyone, including Cledd and Yeg, and are now approaching Graham's table.
Nia glances around, notes the dresses and shakes her head. "Not even gonna ask," she murmurs before lifting her communicator. First she contacts Nguyen to let him know they arrived safely, then adds a polite but firm request for Vargas to get backup as soon as possible.
After snapping her communicator shut and swapping it for her phaser, she nods to the Coridanite nearby. "Okay, Rangin, you're up. How far are we from the nearest people? And can you identify anyone now that we're close up? I guess the easiest to distinguish should be T'Var..."
She scowls in curiosity. Why not Kylah? She should also be sticking out like a sore thumb. Then again, maybe Elasians have more in common with other humanoids than Vulcans do. Or Sidonians, for that matter.
Biology not being her strong suit, she leaves that to Rangin and heads to whatever exit is in the room. She has no plan to leave yet, but she'd like to determine whether she can hear anything through the door or any crack. On her way she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror: the first time she's seen what she looks like in this retro getup.
Damn. Not too shabby, if I do say so. In other circumstances she wouldn't mind Booker seeing her in this sparkling, short, hilariously inappropriate but stunning dress. Her heart gives a thump at the thought of his being endangered somehow, and she sobers up at once. Knock it off. This ain't the place and it definitely ain't the time.
Kylah cannot help noticing the direction of the gangsters' interest, and she thinks wildly of a way to get their attention. Forget emulating Mother. Think of Elaan.
"How dare you!" she cries out, taking another step closer and slamming her hands on her hips. "I am no Federation member. And if I am 'with' anyone, I suppose it is him." She tosses her head at Cledd before aiming her ire back at Krako. "But only for the night, I would imagine. The truth is, that other gentleman invited me to join him on the way into the club, presumably because he is a man and I am..." Kylah lets her free hand run down the curves of her right side, ending with a slight flutter of her skirt. "...I am the sort to catch his eye. But once I saw Mr. Okmyx, he suited me better." Kylah again eyes Cledd before continuing.
"As for the possibility of more of those Starfleet aliens, for all you know, they are all around you. Or surrounding the building. Their flying ship might be overhead now, ready to snatch you into thin air and deposit you in empty space." Her voice is breathy, giving away some of her nervousness, but she forces more strength into it, warming to the idea of taking on her cousin's tempestuous, imperious nature. "How did I know he was Starfleet? He told me. And because I am not just a trinket for men's arms. I have learned to gamble, and cheat, and to... take things. Including, while we were dancing, some of his belongings. Which were very obviously real."
Kylah suddenly calls out to the men nearing Mr. Graham. "You fools are wasting your time. He does not even realize it, but while he was putting his hands on me, I took his weapon and... some other device I do not even recognize. If you want them, you will have better luck finding my purse and looking there."
She moistens her lips. She may have just lost her phaser and tricorder--but if it saves Graham from losing his weapon, the gambit was more than worth it. Please let him realize that! Not wanting to give her colleagues too much attention, Kylah returns to Krako. "I have my uses, as you see. Perhaps such skills would come in handy in your administration... if you were ever to get one, which I doubt." Kylah smiles briefly, hoping she will manage to avoid being stunned for a little while longer. "Ask me why, Mr. Krako."
Graham is momentarily utterly confused by what Kylah might be doing, in part because he can't hear everything she's saying, and in part not sure why she would go so far as almost physically assaulting Krako while unarmed.
Her shout about having stolen his own weapon to the approaching goons is audible, though, and gives him an option, albeit uncomfortable, to play for time.
He shifts his eyes only for a moment to T'Var, then makes a big deal of looking toward Kylah and then her handbag and tensing his body as if he'd jump at it--without actually moving.
"You--slut...bitch, you lifted my phaser off me?" he shouts.
Nguyen says from the ship, "Security teams now assembled, in position and ready to beam down, Lieutenant."
Rangin unlimbers his tricorder. "I have a Vulcan female lifesign out that way, and to the right," he soon says, pointing to the door. "About 20 meters away." He quickly develops a floorplan of the club - main ballroom, lobby, kitchen, casino, offices, performance stage, backstage, dressing rooms like this one, machinery, storage and other spaces - and shows Onn. "Where would you like them beamed down, ma'am?"
Krako seems amused, maybe even taken a little aback, by Kylah's little show. Everyone else is looking, too. "Uh... why?" he asks, smiling.
A mook comes closer to Graham but, seeing how Kylah's remarks and Graham's responding shout have changed the situation, hesitates.
Onn and her party, and Thalen and Nguyen aboard the Yorktown, clearly hear Graham's loud question over the open communicator channel.
"Good work, Ensign. And one second, Chief..." Nia leans over Rangin's shoulder, eyeing the tricorder. She points a finger at the screen and murmurs, "Let's go with the two rooms closest or adjacent to the ballroom--make sure they're empty first. We should split the teams into two and flank them, if possible. Ideally there are multiple access points..." She peers in closer, trying to see while simultaneously keeping her communicator close to her ear.
As a result, Booker Graham's words come through especially loud and clear. Nia jerks instinctively backward, eyes widening at the communicator as if she expects to see Booker's accusing face staring back at her.
"What the holy hell...?" she blurts, then hurries to mute the device. She swivels to gaze in astonishment at Rawlings. "You ever hear him talk like that? Far as I know the guy, I have a way fouler mouth than he does. And who could've got the drop on him so bad he'd--?"
They couldn't. No one could, not a guy with his instincts. I just don't see him...talking to a woman like that... She stops short, not sure how to finish that thought. "Is it a ploy? Or are things really that tense down there?" Nia shakes her head and mutters for Rangin to hurry up his search.
Graham does his best to glower like what he imagines an Iotian version of what a Feddy officer who'd been played for a fool would at Kylah, realizing at the back of his mind he'll find out soon enough if Morris is dirty if the guy gives up the fact that Kylah is Starfleet.
"Maybe you might want to deal with the real Federation and not some...two-bit...two-timing...hussy," Graham says in a warning tone toward Krako, with a meaningful glance at the nearby mook, straining to remember old-time Terran slang from vids and hoping he's not using some from, say the 22nd Century. Or the 12th...
He every so slightly tests his leg against the edge of the table, assessing the right target to stun first were he to flip it. He doesn't dare make it a big enough move to be certain T'Var would notice, but mentally keeps his fingers crossed.
Rawlings looks just as surprised as Onn. "No, that's a new one on me, Lieutenant. Not exactly typical of Mr. Graham."
Rangin frowns over his tricorder display. "There's a large group of people entering the nightclub. Uh... looks like they're armed."
Moments later, those in the ballroom are surprised to see a group of men in Twenties suits, all armed, emerge from a side door to the right of Krako and his men. In the lead are President Okmyx and his right-hand man, Kalo. They have the drop on Krako and his faux-Starfleet-uniformed men.
"Hey there, Krako," Okmyx says, grinning as he points a Tommy gun right at him. "Fancy meeting you here!"
Kylah whirls around at the onslaught of new gangsters, and the courage and confidence she wore temporarily while channeling her cousin stream out of her in a rush so fast she nearly drops to her feet.
She had been shocked by Mr. Graham's words, but knew he was only playing along with her charade. And if there had been time, she would have maintained her role as some manipulative, ambitious thief.
But instead, here is the President, someone who knows she is in Starfleet. There is no value in pretending otherwise. Her eyes signal dismay toward Mr. Graham. Somehow, she has failed him.
Still, she cannot help lashing out at Krako. "You asked how I know you will not be named 'captain.' It is because Starfleet, like me, knows the difference between a true officer and a fraud." She swivels to Kalo, dying to berate him as well, but she knows she must defer to Mr. Graham when dealing with a President, or even his right-hand man.
But she can make sure there is no bloodshed, at least not immediately. She steps in between the President and Krako. Foolish, but not so very much; she does not think Okmyx would dare harm her, and if Krako uses his phaser, he will only be giving Okmyx the best possible excuse to shoot him instead. Her breathing is rapid but she glares from Kalo to the president and back again.
Nia lets a particularly harsh Sidonian expletive fly--but only in her head--as she hears and sees the latest development and is assaulted by an attack of overwhelming insecurity. Why am I here? Why wasn't this a Security operation from the get-go? What the everloving fuck am I gonna do?
Endless internal whining isn't helping the situation. She backs up a step and takes as deep a breath as she can. Then she unmutes her communicator. "All right. Ensign Rangin, send the coordinates of those two adjacent rooms to Chief Nguyen. Chief, that's where you'll be beaming the two teams." With a lick of her dry lips, Nia tilts her head. "Cmdr. Vargas, I don't know if you've assigned a leader to each team. But if you have, or even if you haven't, I'd like one officer from each group to maintain contact with me throughout, with an open channel. Who should I expect?"
A thought strikes her. "Onn to Cheverez. Commander, can you get the ship's phasers set to stun? We all remember the Spock maneuver from our last visit with these goons. A love tap from the Yorktown might give them all the time-out we need." Our people too, but I'll take my chances. If they've done anything to Book or the rest...
"Lt. Thalen," she says after a hesitation. Her gaze shifts to Garcia, since she's about to enter into a topic dear to him. "You're on with us, right? Given what we've heard, Mr. Graham's communicator's been compromised. Please make sure he's kept out of the loop." It hurts to say that. Nia doesn't think he's been injured, even though his out-of-character behavior makes it seem as if he's had a concussion, but it's patently obvious someone's taken his device away, and possibly his phaser as well from the sound of it. "I'd like us to hear whatever's happening on his end, but nothing should be broadcast to his device. And by the way, can you tell if anyone else's communicator is in active use right now?"
She has a few more orders but she needs to give the others a chance to respond. While waiting, she mutes herself quickly and says to her teammates: "Guys, feel free to disagree--I want suggestions--but my instinct is for the four of us to go in first. I wanna see what the situation is before we call in the entire fleet. So to speak," she adds in a mutter. "If so, let's get moving. Rangin, you lead the way to get as close as we can without attracting attention."
"Mr. President," Graham says loudly and distinctly, speaking as much to the room as to whoever--hopefully for god's sake someone other than Rangin--is listening to his communicator. "Unless you and your men plan on using those Tommy guns to mow down Krako and his fake Feddies right now--possibly taking out a bunch of innocent bystanders and some real Federation officers in the process--may I suggest that you let the real Federation take charge of security in the room now, so you can have the, ah...civilized discussion I am sure you came to hvae, without anybody's trigger finger getting itchy."
Okmyx takes Kylah's hand and gallantly kisses it. "Ah, the lovely Ens. Kylah - we meet again! So good to see you. I guess you've already made my son's acquaintance. You left Syndicate HQ in such a hurry - we got your note, of course, but certainly would've appreciated a more... personal farewell."
Krako ignored Kylah's remark. He seems curiously unperturbed as Kalo and Okmyx's other men disarm him and his mooks, taking both phasers and guns. "Another Feddy, eh?" he says. "Good! They should know what you and your son have been up to, Bela."
"That's 'Mr. President' to you, buster," Kalo says, but Krako just rolls his eyes.
Rangin sends the coordinates to Nguyen, who soon reports, "We're beaming down the Security teams now. Ensigns Three Crows and Mahmoud will be commanding them." Moments later, both officers check in with Onn, saying they have arrived at the Paramount undiscovered and are ready to move when ordered. Rangin has shared the building's floorplans with them.
The Captain, from the Yorktown's Bridge high above, says, "Ship's phasers are set on stun for the entire nightclub, and locked on, Mr. Onn. Remember what I told you when I sent you down there, though. I'd prefer not to take such a heavy-handed approach, if possible, but of course you must use your best judgment. Mr. Thalen has remodulated the subspace connection with Mr. Graham's communicator so that you can hear him but he can't hear you." She pauses to talk to Thalen, and then adds, "No communicators other than yours, Three Crows's and Mahmoud's are now in use on the surface."
None of Onn's teams has any suggestions. "Sounds good to me, ma'am," Garcia says. They are all ready to move out. Rangin heads for the door.
"Thanks for the suggestion, pal," President Okmyx says offhandedly to Graham, "but this is my town, and I'm not feeling too itchy at the moment. How 'bout you, boys?"
There is a chorus of "No, boss" and the like. His mooks approach Graham, T'Var and Morris, guns leveled, to disarm them. At a nod from Okmyx, Kalo walks over to Kylah to do the same.
Kylah steps backward, unable to think of what to do but knowing she does not want Kalo near her. Contempt briefly wins over her fear and she spits out, "Do not even think of touching me, you lying lapdog!" Then she whips her head to face the president. "Why are you doing this? What can you possibly gain? Mr. Graham is right, the Federation--no, not even the whole Federation, just the Yorktown--can defeat you in mere seconds. I thought you wanted to be on good terms with us. Why destroy that now?" Frustrated, she aims her concentration from Okmyx to his son to Krako, hoping to catch some telltale emotion from any of them. "Why would you take the hostages in the first place if not for ransom?"
President Okmyx's mooks disarm the Starfleet officers. "Just a precaution, you understand," Kalo says apologetically. "This is a dicey situation." He doesn't seem to notice Graham's communicator on the table, still open and broadcasting.
"Honey, I didn't take the hostages at all," the President says to Kylah, waving a hand. "I got a good thing going with the Federation. I'm top dog of the whole damn planet. Why would I want to screw that up?"
Cledd glares at his father. "Oh, no, you don't, Pops," he says. "Enough's enough. You knew what was going on. You asked me to do it!"
The President protests, "That's not true! That's a lie! Why are you doing this, Cledd?"
Krako, looking on, crosses his arms and grins. "About time someone called you out for this, Bela - and your own son, too. Does my heart good to see the truth laid out there for all to see."
Kylah struggles with her psi powers. The room is a seething mass of mental impressions, all close by and most of them strongly-felt.
Nia confirms to Captain Singh that she's only asking for the ship's phasers as a last resort, but at the very end of her words, she's interrupted by the sound of Graham's voice, distant but forceful, emanating from the communicator.
His words put a tiny, fleeting smile on her face. "Nice one, Book," she murmurs before her expression darkens. After muting her communicator, she looks toward Rawlings. "This situation has rapidly turned into what my first captain liked calling 'a clusterfuck.' I may be a lieutenant, but I'm not gonna pretend I have more Security or Tactical experience than an Ensign who's specialized in that area. So if you see me making a decision that seems really stupid, or if you come up with a strategy that might be better, I am officially ordering you to speak up, and fast."
She sweeps her gaze across the others in the room. "Goes for you guys, too. I've got more years than either of you, but I'm not cocky. Speak up if you have to."
While she rapidly recalculates the situation as it apparently now stands, she gestures to Rangin to keep moving forward. As they walk, she has the opportunity to listen to the subsequent dialogue between what appears to be the president, Krako, and the much softer but bizarrely challenging voice of Kylah. At the latter, Nia is begrudging but impressed, and can't help but eye Rangin to see his reaction.
Then more voices. The guy Kylah seems to have called a lapdog, and then... Calling the president 'Pops'? That must be the son. Which is confirmed immediately. Damn, these guys don't trust anyone, do they?
She decides that the plan stays the same. She needs to see the layout with my own eyes and get a feel for the room. Worst thing that happens is, we're taken captive. But there are twelve more of us waiting in the wings.
"So what have we got," she mutters aloud, "three different factions... four, if you include our team... all confined in one room? Or are they?" Nia scowls and then orders everyone to stop moving for a second.
"Rangin, I need you to--no, skip that, I want your attention on the inside--Garcia, get your tricorder out. I don't wanna be surprised again by yet another frickin' batch of enemy troops sauntering in unannounced. Monitor the perimeter as best you can. You see any more groups of Iotians moving in? For that matter, are there any of the guys who seem to have been part of Okmys's group waiting outside?"
She flips on her communicator again. "Onn to St. Croix and Three Crows. Welcome to the games. This is a hot situation, especially given our remit to avoid too much power. Keep your teams absolutely quiet so you can monitor what's happening in the room. The only time you take offensive action is if I give the order--which might be a whisper, so hopefully you've got sharp ears--or if you hear non-Starfleet weapons going off in the vicinity. Then rush in and stun anyone you don't recognize. Even and especially if they're wearing a Starfleet uniform. Remember, all our people are undercover." Much good did it do us.
Unless anyone has any suggestions or warnings that put her off, Nia will make her way to the front of the group. She's the leader of this mission, and she's not letting Rangin enter the line of fire for her. "Just whisper the directions to me," she says while squeezing past him. Then, girding herself, she moves forward. "I always did like joining parties late," she murmurs. "That's how you make the best entrance."
Helpless, Kylah watches as her communicator disappears into Kalo's hands. A few seconds pass where she fights the instinct to burst into hysterical laughter. How many communicators has she lost or had destroyed now? Three? Four? This must be a record for a Communications officer.
The power struggle among the three main players forces her to remain fixed in reality, even though the confusion from such a barrage of warring emotions threatens to cause another breakdown, like the one in the lobby of the Syndicate building.
She feels surrounded, because she is. She cannot even see her fellow officers across the room, not with Kalo, Krako, Cledd and Okmyx all crowding her. Of course, the men are not paying attention to her; she is merely the fool who shoved herself into this position by trying to protect Krako.
I must concentrate. At least one of these people is lying. Which? She looks from one man to the next before deciding she must take another risk if she is to cut out the interference from a ballroom full of people and, particularly, the fierce emotions from the men immediately nearby. She must touch one of them.
Cledd is a useless target; they already know he performed the kidnapping, and Kylah has already determined that his emotions are turbulent and angry. Nothing to be gained from him. Krako seems to be eliminated as well, unless he somehow manipulated Cledd behind the scenes.
That seems to leave the President. But Okmyx is well-guarded, she learned that back at his building. It must be skin to skin contact; she will need all the access she can get.
Swallowing, she reaches toward the President's wrist, slowly and carefully. "You say your bond with the Federation remains intact," she begins while attempting to make the physical connection. "If--if you are a man with any honor, Mr. President, you will uphold the custom of the era from the Book you so admire. Please shake my hand to prove you intend to uphold that bond. A--And tell me that you truly wish good relations with us. Tell me you did not arrange for the kidnapping."
Graham's about to poke at the implication Cledd's being used (deliberately) as the fall guy--one because seems like it may be true, but two to buy time and get what he hopes is a serious ass Security team on the way more information--when Kylah reaches out her hand to the president.
He can't for the life of him...
Holy fuck is she going to use Elasian tears...
He's torn for a moment between realizing as acting mission leader he might be the one to bring court martial charges--but intervening now without getting her hurt or worse is a hell of a tall order...
He shuts his eyes just for a moment. She's asked you to trust you. You've said you do.
He looks attentively but remains silent.
Garcia runs a tricorder scan and says, "I see no other people on the premises or approaching the nightclub other than those we already know about, ma'am. There are four armed men outside on the sidewalk by the main entrance, but of course there's no way to tell which Iotian faction they're affiliated with."
Three Crows and Mahmoud (St. Croix has not beamed down, as far as Onn knows) quietly acknowledge their orders.
Rangin shows Onn the Paramount's floorplan, and she leads him, Garcia and Rawlings through a dimly-lit, empty hallway to a side door of the main ballroom. It is unguarded from the outside, although Onn can see, through a small, frosted-glass window, the back of a man with a Tommy gun just a meter or so inside. She can see very little beyond him, other than some white-covered tables and two Iotians, a man and a woman, with their hands raised.
President Okmyx hesitates for a moment. He glances around, sees that his mooks have established complete control over the ballroom, and then takes Kylah's hand. She feels a wave of his emotions wash over her, and almost gasps. She senses his powerful ambition, his new distrust of and deep disappointment in his son, and the dark, steady undercurrent of his determination, even ruthlessness. He is much like his son in that, she sees. "I didn't," he says firmly. "By The Book, I swear I didn't." It is difficult at first for her to judge his truthfulness through the floodtide of psionic impressions she is getting.
Graham watches and listens. Kylah, he can tell, is obviously deeply affected by whatever is happening between her and the President.
Perspiration beads beneath Kylah's curls, and the rush of emotions surging within her creates a swell of nausea, but she keeps to her feet. She meets the President's gaze for a few lingering seconds, then uses her other hand to sandwich his own between her fingers, increasing the connection. Though she pretends this is just a way to show gratitude, she actually hopes that the increased connection will reward her with the truth.
Whatever she receives from Okmyx, she will turn next to Krako. Of course, he knows she lied to him; why would he respond at all to a similar request for a vow? He claims to be a true believer...
Kylah releases Okmyx's hand, very glad to do so, and extends it toward Krako. "And you, Mr. Krako? You may mistrust me due to my earlier ruse. But--but you know now that I am indeed a Starfleet officer." Her voice sounds hoarse and she clears it, then forces herself to continue. "I apologize for the falsehood, but it was necessary.
"The President has made it clear that I am an Ensign in Starfleet. I wear the real version of the uniform you have fabricated--a uniform you profess to admire and honor. Only moments ago, in performing my duty, I put myself in between you and the President. Either one of you could have killed me, but I did so to protect you."
She extends her hand toward his. "In recognition of that, and of the high esteem in which you hold the Federation and Starfleet, will you shake my hand as well, and pledge on your loyalty to our values and ideals that you had nothing to do with the kidnapping?"
Nia grimaces at hearing Mahmoud's voice. Have to apologize later for that screw-up. Where'd I get St. Croix from? She shakes the error away and thinks for a moment. Can't see anyone she recognizes nearby. Can hardly see anything, really. What next?
Nia's been listening in as best she can to the conversation in the ballroom, and though Kylah is barely audible, it's obvious she's trying out some kinda ploy with both the president and Krako. Yeah, not too confident there. Given her track record, she'll probably cause a bloodbath.
Speaking of which: if Nia's team all walk in, with or without phasers drawn, they gain literally nothing except captivity and/or gunfire. After her own close-up-and-personal experience with those outdated weapons, Nia knows that despite their obsolete nature, being shot with one of them will hurt now as much as it did on ancient Earth.
There's also the little issue that Krako will recognize Rangin and Garcia. Will he give them away? She makes a quick decision before leaning in close to Rangin: "I'll go in first," she mouths. "Only three people in there know me, and I can pretend to be some lost guest or something. How close is T'Var to us?"
Even as she talks, she makes sure her communicator is still on and, without any pretense at modesty, lowers her dress's decolletage to tuck the device deep into her cleavage. Ouch. Shit. For the thousandth time she vows to work with Engineering to invent a more portable and unobtrusive device, because this is just clumsy as hell, not to mention uncomfortable. Stop bitching, she thinks grimly. I've had worse poking down around there.
When through, she lowers her head slightly and murmurs: "Testing. Mahmoud. You hear me?"
Waiting for Rangin's answer, not to mention Mahmoud's, Nia tries to remember if there was a ladies' room or anything she can use to explain her whereabouts for the past ten minutes, if she were just a regular guest.
Before she releases her grip on the President, Kylah at last senses his truthfulness: he did not order or authorize the kidnapping of the Starfleet Civil Affairs Group. He still has many secrets, and he is no saint, not at all - but in this, at least, she is convinced he isn't lying.
Krako takes her hand with greater reluctance, but he does it, and she at once perceives that he is lying... somehow. The President did not order the kidnapping, but neither, it seems, did Vice President Jojo Krako. It is very strange. Krako is playing a deeper game of some kind; there is something more going on in his mind that Kylah cannot see - yet, or ever? He has more guile and is more clever, she thinks, than either Okmyx.
Rangin nods in response to Onn. He checks his tricorder. "T'Var is about ten meters away, just to your left as you go in."
Mahmoud's muffled voice responds, "Just barely, Lieutenant. Is something blocking your transmission?"
Onn remembers that there are several ladies' rooms on the premises.
Kylah tightens her grip on Krako's hand, just as she did with Okmyx. She tries to look over his shoulder to catch Mr. Graham's attention, then returns her focus to the vice president.
"You take my hand but do not answer me, sir," she says quietly, her eyes seeking his to understand--at least attempt to understand--what is going on. "Will you swear on your faith in the Federation and its principles that you were not responsible for the kidnapping of the CAG members? Or have any involvement in the act, other than the attempt to find them?"
Nia almost smiles at Mahmoud's question. "Yeah, a couple things might be in the way," she mutters dryly. "Hang on." This time she turns around, aware that just because she's comfortable doesn't mean the others are. While one of them has seen far more than she's putting on display now, all three are from different cultures from her own. No sense in risking any distraction.
Reaching beneath the thin straps of her dress and the gossamer-like layer of what passes for 1920s-era undergarments, she takes hold of her breasts and lets her hands do what a proper bra should--separate them and provide a little breathing room. Once things are readjusted, the communicator should have a bit more space, which make her more comfortable both physically and mentally. "Hope that's better, Fariz, 'cause it's as good as it's gonna get. Like I said before, keep your ears peeled."
She moves back to Rangin and the others and again leans in to issue her order. "Go around the corner so you're not immediately visible from that entrance. Once I go out, I wouldn't be surprised if a guard takes a quick look to see if anyone's hiding here. I'll follow Graham's lead and try to narrate what's going on so you know when it's safe. Got it?"
Even as she speaks, she's trying to psyche herself up into character while bearing in mind Rangin's directions. Ten meters to the left, okay, hopefully that's doable. Also hope Book is nearby. Backing up and mussing her hair a little--and calming down so that none of her scales should be in evidence--she will wait until Rangin, Garcia and Rawlings have retreated to a less visible position before beginning her scheme.
Krako clears his throat and says, "I had nothing to do with it. I love the Federation - I'm not the old fart clinging to The Book and standing against the wave of the future." Kylah is now sure he's lying.
Mahmoud replies to Onn, "Uh, my first name is Faisal, but yes, that's clearer. Thank you, ma'am."
Rangin nods. "Understood, ma'am." He and the others move away.
The impact of her perception is such that Kylah gives a start and nearly bumps into the someone behind her--she does not know if it is Cledd or his father--though her hand is still clasped in Krako's. She is this close to voicing the words You are a liar! before she catches herself. There is more here that she does not understand. Why does Krako seem so... undefeated? Does he have no fear from Okmyx at all? Or Cledd? Is he that secure in the Federation's support?
And what role did he play in the kidnapping? Okmyx is--in this instance, anyway--innocent. So why would Cledd falsely accuse his own father, whom he supposedly idolizes? Is it possible that he genuinely believes that his father ordered the attack? I am out of my depth, she thinks, suddenly claustrophobic. There are too many possibilities...
She realizes she has stared at Krako too long, he must see the accusation on her face, even if she has not voiced it. She blinks and looks down for a second, as if nodding, and just murmurs "I see," before pulling back in an attempt to try one last gambit with Cledd.
Oh goddammit to hell, what is wrong with me? Nia murmurs an apology of sorts to Mahmoud and makes a mental note to arrange some special treat for the guy with Ajay. But it's not like her to make this many mistakes, not something as basic as a person's name or even which person she's supposed to be talking to.
She takes a deep breath and again remembers that tonight is her restoration night, and that she left her inhaler behind in the rush to take Collins's place in the mission. Well, that explains her less than tip-top brain performance, but it's not comforting. She doesn't have time to check the time--ironic, that--but she estimates that if this mission lasts any longer than three or four hours, she's screwed.
She empties those disquieting thoughts from her head and focuses on the here and now. And right now, she puts herself into the mindset of some gangster's bimbo who got zonked from too much alcohol. Backing up as far as possible to give herself room, she starts forward, her heels clattering in an irregular pattern as she stumbles through the corridor to the entrance. A sloppy laugh escapes her lips as she starts humming some old sailor's tune Ajay taught her two years and a million miles ago. About a meter from the door she lets the words lazily escape her lips.
"La da da dah da, da la, di dah dah...
La...da... blow the man down..."
She lets herself trip and lean against the doorway, eyes closed but her mouth smiling wickedly as she continues,
"A pretty young damsel I chanced for to meet,
Give me some time to blow the man down!"
Again she laughs and this time she steps into the ballroom, one hand pushing her heavy coil of hair back. Almost to herself, she says, "Better gimme some darn music too before all that blowing!"
With a giggle, Nia moves toward the left for a few tottering steps before opening her eyes. "Seris--sero--seriously," she slurs, "Why's it so quiet? I can't've slept through last call alread--"
As soon as she finds the first man with a gun--probably not vary far in--she stops. Though her lids open and shut heavily, in between blinks she takes a sharp measure of whatever she can see. Her seemingly aimless gaze turns to the table directly to her left, searching.
"I couldnt'a been out that long! Where's my honey at?" she says while trying to pick out T'Var or Graham. If she does, she'll squint, shrug, then move on until she stops at one of the muscle men. "You look like an observant guy, you seen anyone who looks like--What... holy cow, mister, what's up with all the guns?"
With tipsy dignity she tries to pretend to stand up straight, not successfully, her chest in nice display during the process. She lets her lips form a worried pout before she leans to the gunman and says in a loud whisper: "What'd I miss? This a game or somethin'?"
Graham is reconciling himself with the fact that the best gameplan seems to be let whatever mojo Kylah is working play out while the cavalry arrives, when....
Holy hell this cannot be happening.
Captain I have an urgent message from Ens. Graham. He wants his girlfriend beamed down alone and unarmed, mostly naked, preferably drunk, in proximity to a room full of armed men.
Rangin's that vicious but the Captain's not that stupid...
Rangin stands quietly with the other guards trying his best not to let the situation and his generally conflicting emotions override his normal good sense. Although it appears that Lt. Onn's sense have temporarily left her, but as she is in charge, it's her call.
While standing in the quiet, his mind casts back over the conversations that emanated from the communicator, the comments that could be picked up. While he was dealing with the tricorder, he could concentrate on the task and do what was necessary. Now, with nothing to do to distract him those words keep coming back...
"You--slut...bitch, you lifted my phaser off me?"
It seems that Kylah is multi-talented in stealing all-sorts of things if she needs to. Of course, it raised the question of what they had been doing in the club, given Graham's over-bearing protectiveness towards her, even if it is a charade. Of course, it appears that whatever Kylah was up to, she had decided to hold court in the middle of the room. He couldn't fault her balls in what she was doing. Maybe she had stolen those from Graham as well.
And now, all he can do is wait for whatever is about to go down...to go down.
Krako lets Kylah's hand go unhesitatingly. He looks upset.
The mook closest to the door whom Onn passes looks her up and down appreciatively, then realizes that President Okmyx is scowling at him. In fact, every eye in the room is now on him and Onn. The mook stammers, "Uh, no. No game, lady. You, uh, wanna sit down?" He pulls out a seat for her at a nearby table, about three tables over from Graham, T'Var and Morris.
Rangin and the other Starfleet personnel in the building can hear pretty clearly what's going on in the ballroom, from the combined open channels of both Onn's and Graham's communicators.
Nia backs away from the gangster. "I've been lyin' down too long. Besides I was with my baby, he was just..." She gestures vaguely to her left, closer to the stage. "Well, I left him right there, an' he promised he'd wait for me. I don't mean any harm, Mr. cutie, I'll be quiet!" Lifting a finger to her mouth, she attempts to tiptoe closer to her colleagues. "I'll just find him and..."
Her gaze falls on the clump of people where the main action is. Of course she recognizes Kylah and Okmyx right away, and Krako after a second. The other beefy man looks an awful lot like the president, which probably makes him the son. Nice company you're mixed up with there, kiddo, she thinks while sending a frowning look at Kylah that, she hopes, serves as a warning to keep quiet. Then she turns her full attention to Okmyx Sr.
"Ohmygosh," Nia blurts in awed delight. "It's him! The Boss! And... and that's the Veep himself, too, ain't it? Now that explains all the heavy artery! I mean artliterary." She pouts and, frustrated, points out each syllable on her fingers. "Ar--till--er--y." When she successfully gets the word out, she sends a brilliant smile toward Okmyx before tilting toward the nearest female guest. "He's even better in person, isn't he, honey?"
As if just noticing that the majority of the people in the room have their hands lifted to the air, Nia makes an exaggerated version of surrender and flaps her hands. "Sorry, Mr. President, sir, don't worry 'bout me. I'll just... you boys go about your business and I'm just gonna be over... I'm gonna..." She swivels toward her crewmates' direction, not stopping on anyone but keeping her stare at T'Var for two seconds before leaning heavily against the near table and holding her stomach. "Oh, I'm gonna be sick."
The intrusive, tipsy woman from over by Mr. Graham's part of the room briefly catches Kylah's attention. She cannot help a tiny curl of her lip in distaste before her brain catches up with her eyesight.
Why... that... that is Lieutenant... For a moment the name escapes her--they have rarely been on the Bridge at the same time--but the truth of the situation does not. This must be an act. When the older woman glares at her, Kylah is certain it is some kind of message, but does not know what is being asked of her. Given the bizarre way the senior officer is behaving, however, Kylah doubts the lieutenant wants to be acknowledged.
Which is fine, and in fact, the distraction is more useful than anything Kylah could have devised. She does not want Krako to notice her sudden need to talk to Cledd.
She swiftly moves to the younger Okmyx, reaching out to him. "Please, Cledd. Mr. Okmyx," she amends in a rushed whisper. "I am sorry for having deceived you earlier, but I must know--I must ask you--do you genuinely believe your father ordered the kidnapping?"
"Hey," Graham says to the mook nearest him, with a quick glance at T'Var. "We're gonna help the lady, all right? Nice and slow. No harm in that, you've got our phas-- er heaters, all right?"
The President seems irritated. "Meno, take her to the powder room. If she has to barf, let her do it there."
"Right, Boss," says the mook to whom Onn first spoke. He reaches for her upper arm. "C'mon, honey. Let's go."
The President snaps his fingers and points to Graham. "And you! Stay where you are."
While his father is distracted, Cledd says quietly but firmly to Kylah, "Of course he did. He ordered me to do it." He sounds bitter. "He wants the Feddies to decide we're not worth the trouble, and to go away and leave us alone... the old fool. But he's my Pop, and I gotta do what he says."
Nia shrugs in an attempt to slip out of the man's grasp. "Get your paws off me, buster. You're not as cute as I thought up close, and I got some standards." She takes a deep breath and holds herself as straight as possible. "I just need some coffee, that's all. Maybe just water or something fizzy. Maybe I wouldn't be so woozy if you guys weren't packing all that heat. I mean, look at all of you!"
She sends her gaze around to make a quick calculation of the gunmen in the room, planning to repeat the number for the sake of the various audiences listening to her. While she counts she keeps a quiet ramble going, loud enough for her side of the room to hear but probably--hopefully--not anyone all the way near Okmyx.
"Geeze, I thought the Boss's kid ran a respectable joint. Girl can't even get a little loopy without having some musclebound creep wanna toss her out like a rotten tomato. He doesn't even know what kinda dame he's dealing with. That guy over there," she adds, lazily giving Booker a meaningful but brief glance. "Now, he's a gentleman. He pays attention to what a girl really needs."
Returning to her count, she shakes her head, trying her hardest to seem casual while she leans against the wall, talking almost as if to herself. "But I don't even need some handsome stranger. I got lotsa guys who'd be happy to take care of me. Could name six right off the bat--no, twelve. Hell, I bet I could just snap my fingers and fifteen'd be here like that, right on command. That's the sorta dame I am. I mean, look at me, you think someone'll say no when I tell 'em to jump? Damn straight they don't. And they won't even ask how high, they ask 'how long you want me to stay in the air, Toots?'"
A giggle escapes her lips, and she aims a sleepy look at Booker. "Yeah, this guy's the same, I bet he'd give me what I need," she says, as if not realizing she's talking aloud, then rests her head back against the wall. Her lids are lowered and she probably appears to be nearly asleep, but she's still sweeping the room, continuing her count to double-check that she hasn't missed anyone. "Yessiree, all I gotta do is say the word. I can make 'em do anything, and I'll make it pretty fun for them too... Just need the right signal, and especially the right time, and that's when the fun begins..."
Nia lets her words fall into a meaningless mumble. She just prays Booker understands the info about the backup team she's passed along and--most important--what she needs his help with. Meanwhile, she thinks she's counted all the men with guns and, if she has, she'll find a way to get it to her team.
Kylah tries her best to ignore whatever is going on with the Sidonian officer and the president. She must focus entirely on Cledd, and she presses herself closer to him, forgetting modesty, forgetting her fear of being touched. "Yes, Cledd, I understand family loyalty too, believe me. You must do what your father says," she repeats, "But did he say it? That is... did he say it? To your face? Because I truly do not think he wanted this. I..." She takes a deep breath and says in an exhale, "I know he did not."
Before he can interrupt her, Kylah rests her hands atop his muscular chest, over his heart, standing even closer to him now than when they were dancing earlier. "I believe someone gave you false information. Introduced you to this scheme, claiming the order was from your father. All in an attempt to turn the Federation against you. To push us into taking power away from your father and giving it to--to someone else. Is that possible?" Urgently her fingers grasp his lapels as she stares deeply into his eyes, trying to read him. "Is it, Cledd?"
Rangin just stays quietly outside listening in and waiting...
Onn counts eight men, including the President, who are armed and there in the ballroom. Everyone else has been disarmed.
"You heard the man. You need some fresh air, toots," the mook says, taking her arm.
Cledd says, "He told me to do it. He ordered me to. I just did what he said." Kylah is certain that he's lying, no matter how fiercely he says it.
Shaking her head, Kylah lets go of Cledd. "I do not know if you lie because you are ashamed," she says softly, "or because you have colluded with Mr. Krako. But you are lying, and I think you are following a fool's path by doing so."
She turns around to see how Lt. Onn is faring with what appears to be a pretense of drunkenness--at least, she hopes it is a pretense--and notices the gangster take hold of her crewmate. She has literally no idea what Lt. Onn is doing here, or why she is behaving the way she is, but there must be a reason for it, and she doubts it will be helped by some thug grabbing her and taking her off alone. After her own experiences with men, the thought makes Kylah ill herself.
Alarmed, she swiftly moves to Okmyx's side. "Sir, please stop that man. There is a better way to deal with this. You remember meeting our doctor, Dr. T'Var. She has a simple medical tool, called a hypospray, that will take only a few seconds to make this woman feel better." Her words are urgent but deferential. "It is actually quite remarkable to see--it was new technology to me as well, only three years ago."
An idea strikes her. "In fact, we--we might even be able to arrange for you to keep it, if Dr. T'Var can instruct some medical professional on how to use it properly. Or at least we might send you one ourselves. I do not know if that would be allowed, so I must not make any promise, but I do know cooperation is always rewarded." Kylah bites her lip in quick thought. "Think how useful it would be for someone in your... your line of business. You must have associates or friends who get injured, or intoxicated. As I said I cannot promise that such technology would be traded, but... but at the least, it will show you how much science and technology can offer you, even more than The Book has revealed. Is it not an amazing power to have? The ability to make the injured or sick well again?"
She lowers her voice to a mere whisper. "If it means anything to you, Mr. President... I genuinely believe what you told me. I will not let your reputation or relationship with the Federation to be harmed by this underhanded attempt to wrest your power from you, using our citizens as pawns. So..." Kylah looks swiftly back at Lt. Onn and the gangster, then at Mr. Graham and Dr. T'Var, before returning to Okmyx. "So will you do me this favor? It disturbs me to see a woman mishandled... I have been treated that way, and it is... I do not like it. Please, let our doctor help?"
Graham does his best to look pissed off, which isn't hard given the president snapping his fingers at him like a dog and some shithead goon about to lay his hands on Nia....
He takes a deep breath and raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, letting all the defiance drop from his face and resignation set in. Hands still up slightly, he slides down the wall into a seated position, lowering his head glumly, while stating in low voice as if he's mumbling curses and imprecations under his breath:
"8 bogies, from my position, at..." and adding clock coordinates and distances as best he can judge and jumping off Nia's cue to count the armed bad guys in the room.
I could kiss your right now. Except you're a goddamned pilot so who the hell set you down here in a neglige, for god's sake...
"Yeah?" says Bela Okmyx, looking shrewdly at Kylah. "OK, sweetheart, I'll take a chance." He raises his voice. "Meno, leggo. That other lady there is a doctor, a Feddie doctor. Let her come over to... our latest visitor." The President gestures to Dr. T'Var, who looks at him, then at Onn.
"May I take my bag over to her?" the Vulcan asks the Iotian leader after a moment's thought. "It may be useful."
"Sure," Okmyx says. His eyes narrow. "But if you go for a weapon, all bets are off."
"Understood," T'Var says, with a nod. She picks up her bag and walks over to Onn. Meno remains nearby, within earshot. "Are you all right... miss?" the doctor asks the Sidonian.
Kylah lets her tension out with a deep, ragged sigh. "Thank you, sir," she says, and watches Dr. T'Var with Lt. Onn. Throughout all this she has not paid much attention to Lt. Morris--and, she must admit, she is surprised that none of the gangsters seem to have acknowledged his presence. She eyes the remaining CAG member with interest, wondering what is going through his mind.
Of course, she is much too far away to pick his emotions out from among those of the many present here, in such high-tension circumstances. Still, she has not spoken to him or even been near him since before Cledd arrived, and she is curious how he is reacting to all these revelations. He probably has no idea who Lt. Onn is either.
Then she straightens slightly. Why is Lt. Onn here at all? Where is the other team? Why has she been sent instead of Lts. Garcia and Collins, or Ensign Rangin?
Has something happened? As far as she can remember, the last time she had heard of them, they were somewhere outside the apartment with the guards and hostages. Did everything go as planned? Surely we would have been told if he... if they did not succeed. After all, they were being 'helped' by Krako's men. What if they were betrayed?
A resentful gaze at Krako gives her little satisfaction. She wants to demand an answer about what he knows but decides she had better wait until Lt. Onn has completed whatever bizarre scheme she is undertaking. It must be a raid of some kind. But with only one person? Maybe there are others... and they could be here any moment?
The thought comforts her--at first--until she realizes her own position is not ideal. She is the standing among the various suspects, which puts her in the line of fire. "Perhaps I should return to my crewmates," she murmurs under her breath as she tries to edge away, avoiding the President and his son but unable to prevent another wary look at the would-be 'Captain' Krako.
Nia is about to go limp so that the goon will find her a much less easy burden to pull from the room when the President gives his new order. She nearly laughs and wonders how T'Var managed that one. Did she make some signal to Okmyx? Either way, it's a relief and she lets herself smile at the Vulcan now leaning toward her. "Wow, that's convenient. And a female doctor, for real? That's a new one on me," the pilot says with hidden amusement.
Nia suddenly hears Booker's voice--quiet as it is--emanating from her bra, and abruptly she covers her chest with one hand, pretending to be a little modest around a medical person. It doesn't escape her that the guard is only a few feet away. In an effort to cover the noise even further, she continues to babble softly but persistently.
"But yeah, to answer you, I'm okay, honest. Just, y'know... spacey, you might say. I think I got some bad liquor. My guy brought it with him in a flask, I mean. I'm not sayin' this place would serve anything but top-notch stuff. Anyway I could just use a pick-me-up, honestly. You got something like that? Hot sauce, tomato juice and vodka, that helps, that's what my pal Andy says, and he knows his way around a bar cart." Feeling a little prankish, she adds lightly, "You should meet him, I bet you'd get along. You seem like his type." She flashes a wicked grin then lets it go. "Then again, you were with some pretty good-lookin' fellas. Maybe I could join you once you're done working your magic."
She can't feel any vibrations from the communicator in her chest, so she suspects Graham's message is done with. Pleased that from what little she heard, Booker's communicated the information she needed to, she also wonders if he caught her message about the teams she has waiting in the wings for the go command. She'd really prefer he make that particular call, and hopes he caught that, too.
Meanwhile, as T'Var does whatever placebo work she plans on doing, Nia scans the situation in the center of the room. She doesn't like the lay of the land. She's annoyed to see that Kylah's in completely the wrong place--as usual. Geeze, it's like she has literally no sense of self-preservation. Or worse, she just sabotages everything because she can. She's missed her calling, she should've been a Klingon spy. Wouldn't even have to report back or anything, just go on a mission and fuck it up. Best mole ever.
She needs to warn the others that little miss troublemaker is in the way. "I don't see what's so special about that girl all those bigwigs are swooping around," she murmurs, feigning both exhaustion and jealousy while her mind races for a way to convey the information of the setup to the crew. "Must be some hotshot singer or something? All those bigwigs near her... like she's royalty, maybe, if we had that kinda thing here. Always liked lullabys or fairy stories." She hums a quiet, breathy tune, lowers her chin, and softly sings directly into her cleavage:
"The foreign princess came to see
the King in his own yard.
The fearsome Prince was there, as was
the Captain of the guard."
Not the most obvious of codes but surely one of the crew will pick up the references, especially since they know she's not just singing for her own amusement. Garcia's the code expert, he might get it. Or Thalen. Rangin's clever with words too, maybe more than is good for him. Well, I did my best.
Nia shuts up and waits to figure out her next move.
Cledd seems to reach a point of decision. He suddenly says, "No, just stay here, doll," takes Kylah's arm and doesn't let go. She senses his mind in turmoil, analyzing the situation and angrily trying to figure out what to do next. She catches just a telepathic glimpse of his reaction to Krako, and it hits her: they are secret allies. Cledd has betrayed his father for an alliance with Krako. But why?
Onn hears Thalen say faintly from her concealed communicator, "Understood, Mr. Onn. Security teams, prepare to move."
T'Var checks Onn's pulse, eyes and ears, and palpates her neck. "Shall I scan you?" she asks very quietly, "or would it be better to leave my instruments in the bag?"
"Acknowledged," Nia murmurs to Thalen before responding to T'Var. "Give 'em a show, doc," she says, matching T'Var's soft voice. "As long as whatever you use doesn't look like it's a weapon--that makes me wary about a scan. But otherwise, impress the crowd. No need to be medically accurate, I'm right as rain, I promise."
Except for the slight Bilitrium deficit she's been feeling, but she knows T'Var can't do anything about that. And it's hardly worth mentioning anyway.
While the doctor does her thing, Nia takes another visual sweep to see if any of the guests look like they could be unexpected trouble--well-dressed or not, this is literally a tough crowd and some of the crowd could be getting antsy--when her attention is caught by an odd jerky movement by Kylah. Did the ensign just stop short for some reason? Nia can't see Kylah's entire body from her position so she's not sure. She decides she'll leave it up to Booker. No doubt he's keeping an eye on the lamb loose among the big bad wolves.
Dismissing Kylah for now, she casually checks the two entrances from where the Security officers should emerge. Are they all being guarded by the goons?
dp
Kylah's skin crawls both from repulsion and from the increased sensitivity to Cledd's heightened emotions. That he is allied with Krako is but a confirmation of her suspicions; the lack of a motivation is more troubling--and most troubling of all is the sense that he is a greater danger as long as he is this much on edge.
She tries to remain calm. The ship can beam me away at any time, she reminds herself. Of course, with her communicator gone, she has no Federation technology on her to make her easily identifiable as Starfleet. But that should not matter! They found me on Anubis, and they had an entire planet to search!
Then she remembers how that came about. My zither. Velir only found me because of my zither. Her confidence sinks. And she realizes she cannot recall if Cledd kept his gun or if his father's men took that away as well.
She will have a bruise if he keeps his fingers clenched around her arm. But that is the least of her worries. She is even afraid to show Mr. Graham that she is in distress--she fears how he might react to seeing her mishandled; he could end up hurt himself. The only other potential ally nearby is the President. But not only is he an unreliable ally at best, it is also possible that he will side with his son, no matter what. Kylah has never experienced a parent that loyal, but she knows many exist.
So she can only address Cledd himself. "You are making things worse," she whispers. "If--if Krako offered you some position of power in return for the kidnapping, he was lying. He was using you, do you not see that?"