Star Trek RPG - Mission #5: "Of Captains and Capos"

Graham spares a flick of the eyes toward T'Var and Onn, scowls, and stands back up. Ship has gotten as good a briefing as they can get, he thinks.

"Mr. President, I'm sure we all appreciate your warm fuzzies for the the Federation, but unless you're planning to kidnap us or gun us down I think being held under gunpoint has gone on long enough. So can we cut the gangland crap, now?" he asks, not at all confrontationally.

Now we'll see if his men really don't have itchy trigger fingers.... Every piece on me is one not on anybody else, or entry points for the reinforcements...

"And tell your boy to pick on someone his own size!" he shouts, turning and pointing sharply at where Cledd for whatever reason has a hold on Kylah.

Onn observes that none of the President's mooks appear to be focusing their attention outwards. All of them are facing into the room, as was the man that Onn passed on her way in.

T'Var slowly opens her bag and removes a small handheld mediscanner. She activates it and waves it over Onn's head and upper body, glancing from it to Onn as she does so. The nearest mook watches her carefully but doesn't interfere.

Upon further thought - difficult as it is with the welter of Cledd's emotions and memories pressing in upon her - Kylah recalls that Cledd was disarmed by his father's men, as has been everyone else.

Cledd looks at Kylah and his jaw sets. "You keep talking, sister, and bad things just might happen. I don't know what you're talking about." Another lie, she's sure of it.

The President tells Graham, "Relax, pal. I want to get to the bottom of this just as much as you do. And as long as my boys are the only ones here with heaters, everything's going to be just fine." He glances at his son and frowns. "But take it easy with the dame, OK, son? She's a Feddie, too."

Graham raises his hands just slightly, about shoulder level, and starts sliding--very slowly--around the table, in the direction of T'Var and Onn, going slow enough to preserve the option to flip it depending on the president's response.

"That's very civilized of you, Mr. President. Only thing is, as long as I feel like my team is at risk of being ventilated or manhandled, I ain't going to feel like we're doing much collaborative problem solving, so to speak. And, fair enough, I'm no Captain Kirk but these people are my responsibility. So what I propose is that I collect my doctor and my little lady, and you can sit Mr. Krako and his men down on the floor with their hands on their heads, and we can have a nice discussion without any guns pointed at us."

Graham keeps his voice even, amiable, while modulating his breathing carefully, expecting one of three outcomes: success, being shot out of hand, or giving backup a "go now" order and flipping the table. Which doesn't preclude number 1.

Keep eyes on you, Booker, if the shit hits the fan, everybody's better off it you do...

Remembering that Cledd was disarmed calms Kylah's racing heartbeat somewhat. He and Krako are both possible threats--they each must know she is capable of revealing what really happened, even if it seems like mere speculation to those who have not felt their emotions as she has. But what can they do to her without their guns? They would have to make her disappear, and fortunately the one thing Krako seems not to have access to is a transporter.

Then again, the rigid grip of Cledd's iron-like fingers reminds her that he could easily rip her arm from its socket. Krako is only steps away as well. If she could just get free...

Mr. Graham's movement catches her eye, and she hears his proposal to Okmyx. "He is right, Mr. President," she says in a rush. "We can talk more rationally if we are not under threat of your weapons." Or your brutish son, she thinks with a frustrated attempt to wrest herself away.

Nia says an inward prayer of gratitude for Booker's running narrative. So apparently Kylah is in Cledd's grasp. Because of course she is. Managing not to roll her eyes, she calculates the odds on whether it would cause more trouble if Kylah were to remain a damsel in distress or for her to get beamed up out from under Sonny Boy's hands.

Surely Rangin is within close enough range to identify where the only non-Iotian in that clump of people is. He's listening in, he must know Kylah's in jeopardy. Which... may mean nothing to him, if that last performance in Sickbay meant anything. No, he's a professional... isn't he? Damn it, she just doesn't know him well enough yet.

In any event, maybe beaming her up would just cause shock and chaos. Adding more uncertainty to the situation is not desirable.

As Booker talks, Nia frowns. She doesn't know what he's planning. But she does know he has something in mind, and hopefully that includes the knowledge that she's leaving it up to him to call in for backup. She also hopes that whatever he's scheming doesn't trigger a bad reaction by Okmyx, who at least now seems relatively reasonable.

But if she ends up watching Booker get shot again--without even a phaser in her hand to defend him--she will never forgive herself.

"Watch it, Doc," she mutters irritably, mostly for the goon's benefit. "You're crushing my bag. Lemme move it while you wave that whatever-it-is over me."

Now Kylah is saying something, but it doesn't sound informative so Nia focuses on T'Var. "Block my hands," she mouths. Just for twenty seconds. And if the good doctor seems to be protecting her from sight, Nia will swiftly pull the phaser out from her purse and slip it underneath. Out of sight but ready to blast whichever target seems appropriate.

"Not yet, buddy," the President says to Graham. "All in good time. I still want a straight answer outta my son and this joker," he says, pointing to Krako, who rolls his eyes.

The elder Okmyx ignores Kylah. Cledd loosens his grip slightly, seeming to obey his father, but she is still unable to get away. His mind is racing with dark thoughts, weighing his options and thinking through the situation, and it makes her almost ill as she is telepathically swept along.

T'Var nods fractionally at Onn and then fusses with her bag and the mediscanner, seeming to be about to drop one or the other, which gives Onn the cover she needs.

Kylah lowers her head, fighting Cledd's churning emotions as well as her own. Two weeks of feeling nothing, and now she must suddenly face this bombardment. It is not fair! And worse, she fears that if she tries to accuse Krako, she has nothing, nothing, to prove her words. He has outsmarted her--them--at every turn.

Her free hand lifts feebly to cover her perspiring temple. Why is she taking this so personally? Kylah closes her eyes to sort out what is happening. I cannot tell if the resentment is mine or Cledd's.

"You will not get an answer from Krako, Mr. President," she says, almost a moan. "He has no reason to tell you the truth, why should he? He has used your son and there is nothing to prove otherwise. But if he thinks he will gain from this..." She drops her hand to glare at the man in the ersatz Federation uniform. "He is wrong. Dead wrong. He did not take everything into account when calculating his scheme, and did not know he would be so transparent..."

Wincing, she falls silent. Cledd's furious thoughts are pushing through her sense of self-preservation. Anything more and she will have to reveal how she knows what she does. Unless she can think of some connection to the kidnapping plot. Her own words nag at her. There is proof, there must be! And something tickles at the edge of her mind. Something that has not made sense through any of this. But Kylah feels too disjointed and cannot pinpoint it yet.

The President's eyes narrow. "Used my son?" He whirls on Krako. "What does she mean? He lied about me ordering it, and he still hasn't explained why... but did you put him up to it?"

Krako waves disgustedly. "Of course not. Get real, Bela. What could I offer Cledd that you couldn't offer him yourself? Family is family, after all. He's your boy."

Kylah can't help but sense Cledd's reaction to that, to those lies, and has a sudden and disorienting view into the younger man's memories. That night, that fateful night... a secret meeting... just the two of them, down by the docks, late one night... Cledd chafing under his father's orders, ambitious, so ambitious, always wanting more... but frustrated at how little power the President was willing to cede him... given only a small territory, a handful of men, and a nightclub... and Krako by then ready to displace Bela Okmyx, to be seen by the Feddies as the hero for helping them find their poor kidnapped officers... rewarded by the offworlders for his help in exposing that turncoat elder Okmyx, and generously rewarding Cledd in turn for... for....

The pieces click into place, and Kylah thinks she can see it all.

Rangin checks with the others next to him that they can hear and understand the coded messages being played out in the ballroom.

Despite the need to be ready, Rangin flips outs the tricorder and identifies those standing around and marks them by Graham's mutters giving a better idea of where everyone is located.

Then, at this close proximity, he can start to work out where the group is in relation to Onn and T'Var, the two non-humanoid members out there and also Kylah, who as half human should also be any easy spot. Then its a matter of trawling through the rest for initially Graham, who should be obvious from his muttered location and Morris, about whom they have less data.

Then again, everyone with a phaser is currently one of Okymx's men, so its adds a little extra marker to each signal. With a good element of surprise and a well drilled Security team, as least as he remembers them from the USS Lexington, they should be able to take them all down in a matter of moments. Of course, that assumes all things being equal.

Quickly, Rangin scans back over the room to see what might be out of the ordinary.

Kylah's mouth tightens. It is as she has suspected since first sensing Krako's lies, but the deeper understanding and confirmation of her guesses do not make it easier for her to decide what to do. The temptation to call Krako out as a filthy liar is powerful... and yet, if she does, she still has the problem of there being no proof whatsoever. Cledd might speak himself, and that might be evidence enough for his father, but not Starfleet.

Worse, it may not even get to Starfleet. If the President believes Cledd, what will stop him from using his gun on Krako? The vice president may be guilty of kidnapping--or at least, conspiring to kidnap--but he does not deserve death.

Cledd's anger enflames her own frustration. She tries wildly to jerk her arm free. "Do not say any more, Krako, you will regret it!" she seethes. "Cledd, let me go!" She is almost desperate to block Krako again; it may be the only thing that saves him at this point.

Infuriated, she whips her head around to the President. "Sir, this is best addressed on board our ship, in neutral space. You know we can force you up there, without your permission. We can do it to Krako and your son--and we should," she yells, intending her words for Lt. Onn--although Dr. T'Var is in the way and Kylah cannot see the other woman--and Mr. Graham. "Why are we allowing this to continue? He will kill him!"

The phaser safely tucked away, Nia looks up just as she hears the back-and-forth between Okmyx, Krako and--goddamnit--Kylah. The latter sounds on a knife's edge. Fucking sub-cadet-level discipline, what the hell or who the hell is she doing on a Constitution-class ship?

Since she asked T'Var to cover her, Nia can hardly complain now that the doctor is blocking her view. But she needs to see what's going on ASAP.

"Wow-that-feels-great-how'd-you-do-that-so-fast-thanks-Doc," she says in a rush, almost shoving her way past T'Var's body. Nothing seems to have changed except for Kylah now being visible thanks to her jerky efforts to get loose from Cledd Okmyx's grasp.

A twinge of sympathy lessens her anger at the Ensign. Maybe Cledd is hurting her. The guy is practically three times her size. "Hey kid, don't mind me butting in, but maybe you should calm down," she says sharply. "No need to get all upset, y'know? No one's gonna kill anybody. Am I right or what?" Nia smiles... somehow... and looks from Okmyx to Cledd. Can't see Krako, unfortunately.

She turns to Graham and smiles flirtatiously, though her eyes are like lasers. "You seem to know what's going on, mister. Can you calm that girl down or what?"

Rangin is able to develop a pretty good map of who's where in the ballroom, judging by the phasers and Tommy guns now being held by President Okmyx's mooks, and the non-Human lifesigns of Kylah, T'Var and Onn. He cannot be sure of Graham's and Morris's exact locations, however.

"Calm down, sweetheart," the President says to the young Communications officer, his eyes narrowing. "I'm thinking." He nods when Onn speaks. "Better pay attention to her - she's got the right idea."

Neither Okmyx, father or son, makes eye contact with Onn.

"You're thinking, huh, Bela?" Krako guffaws. "Thinking about how to wiggle out of this one, most likely. Now that the Feddies are gonna see you as the bad guy, and know that I'm their real friend. I wouldn't waste your time, bub." He buffs his fingernails on his lapel and then looks down at them.

"Shut up, Jojo," Okmyx says, irritated. "When I want your opinion, I'll beat it out of you."

Graham laughs. "Beat it out of him? You've given me a good idea, Mr. President. Yorktown, power up the Agonizer."

He nods slightly toward the communicator on the table. "Yeah, this thing is transmitting. And in about two minutes, once the...Agonizer Field...reaches full power, everybody here who hasn't had the cellular ah immunotherapy treatment is going to become real forthcoming about the truth--that is, assuming they don't like bleeding from the eyes and losing bowel control while doubled over on the floor in enough pain to make you wish you'd never been born."

He glances from the President to Krako and some of the goons. "New innovation since Kirk's time. No permanent harm. Of course that means we can keep it running as long as it takes until folks decide to come clean."

He shrugs and looks at Cledd. "Probably going to make a real mess of your club, though."

The condescending words from Kylah's senior officer are bad enough, as is the President's dismissal of her entirely. But Krako's smug certainty is enough to temporarily destroy her wish to protect him. She does not want him hurt, but she cannot allow him to believe Starfleet will reward him for having helped 'find' the hostages.

She continues to think while listening to Mr. Graham's ploy--a clever bluff, to be sure, and it might work on any of these men, if they know so little about Starfleet's ethics. But what happens when there is no follow-through?

In which case, how can she stop Krako? He has no reason to confess. And none of the others know Krako was involved. He cannot have executed this plan perfectly! He must have left some proof of his actions, maybe one of the CAG overheard something? Or one of Cledd's associates, either the guards of the hostages or of the mainframe...

Kylah's disparate thoughts coalesce and sharpen. She tosses her head to clear the hair from in front of her face, then glares at Krako. "The mainframe," she says quietly. "That is it. Cledd would not have thought to steal the computer. He probably does not even understand their potential. But you do. You, Mr. Krako, and your interest in Federation technology."

She moistens her lips, thinking. "Surely, once you had control over it... how could you resist examining it? Just once? Did you, Mr. Vice President? Did you marvel at its design, touch its buttons, open a panel, peek inside? Because if you did, I wager you left something behind." Her voice rises so she can be certain to catch Mr. Graham's attention. "Did we retrieve the mainframe, sir? If so, we should look for fingerprints. And especially DNA. I hope President Okmyx will allow us to get samples of each from him, his son and Mr. Krako.

"You do not know about DNA yet, do you?" she asks, returning to Krako. "It is something miniscule, invisible to your eyes, but unique to every being. Even a hair follicle, a skin particle scraped from your fingers as they brushed against something--a screw, perhaps, holding the computer control panel together... Even something that tiny will contain what might as well be a blown-up image of your face." Kylah remains calm though her face is flushed with anger. "If that mainframe has your DNA anywhere... we have you."

Nia marvels at both her colleagues--Booker for his sheer ability to invent such b.s. in a split second like that. It's a brilliant concept, and frankly a little scary that he came up with it so fast, but bless him, he is not a man made for guile; he's a straight-shooter, and though he tells a good tale, there's something too blunt and honest to completely sell it without hesitating.

And then there's Kylah, who Nia is certain has an astonishing ability to never understand when it's time shut the hell up.

For once the latter "talent" might come in handy. The first time Kylah mentions DNA, Nia realizes where she's heading. It makes sense, and just in case the team listening in didn't catch her words, she lowers her head, pretends to cover her mouth against a yawn, and then whispers into her chest, "Did you hear that, Commander? DNA check on mainframe. If these guys are in our database from the Enterprise, might be a match."

She looks up just in time to hear the end of Kylah's muttered speech. The petite young woman is surrounded by men who are either armed or strong enough to tear her head off, but she is managing to keep their attention. Nia reluctantly admires the Elasian's nerve. It may be frustratingly unpredictable but apparently it does exist.

Krako looks worried after Graham speaks. "Uh... I think you better close the lid on that communicator, there, Bela. If they're listening in 'way up there on their ship, and use that... agonizer thing down here, it could get ugly." He looks even a little more worried when Kylah speaks. "I don't know what you're talking about, honey. Sure, I admire the Federation, I like its technology, but I don't know anything about that mainframe other than my boys finding it in the basement. That was all Cledd's doing, for his pop, like I said." Kylah knows that he is lying, and notices he is sweating a little more.

President Okmyx, also reacting to Graham, looks skeptical. "I think he's bluffing." His eyes narrow. "But... close the lid, just the same, would you, buddy?" he says to one of his mooks. The mook walks over to Graham's, T'Var's and Morris's table, looks at the communicator for a moment, then flips its antenna lid shut with the muzzle of his Tommy gun. "And maybe we oughta find another place to chat...."

Rangin and the others outside of the ballroom hear the transmission from Graham's communicator cut off.

Thalen, from the Yorktown, says quietly to Onn, "Acknowledged. We're checking now. Krako was beamed up by the Enterprise, so his DNA template should be on file. We'll compare it to any readings of genetic material left on the mainframe. Stand by."

Any anger from Cledd seems to bleed into Kylah, who feels like an emotional sponge soaking up whatever spills nearby. Both his outrage and her own merge into something white-hot and fearsome. Despite her size, she has what may be Cledd's false sense of invulnerability.

The more rational part of her also suspects if they move to another room, she might be taken along as well. She does not want to be alone with these men. Thinking quickly, she spits out: "If the communicator channel was indeed open, there is no point in taking the conversation anywhere. Our crew will be here shortly.

"And you, Mr. Krako, do not call me honey." Kylah's chin lifts and her eyes almost burn with intensity. "I am an Ensign of the starship Yorktown. And you are a liar whose guilt will be proven by the technology you 'like' and the Federation you claim to admire. You had best pray that we are the ones to deal with you, because if nothing else, Starfleet seeks proper justice."

She lowers her voice until it can only be heard by Cledd and, as she leans as far forward as Cledd's grip will alow her, Krako. "With what I know about you, you should be grateful that I have not yet revealed how you preyed on his son's bitterness. You are not only an insult to the sham uniform you wear, Jojo Krako, but you are a gutless parasite as well."

Krako clenches his fists and angrily says, "Watch it, honey. I don't have to put up with your lies and your insults, Feddy or not."

Cledd loosens his grip on Kylah slightly and chuckles. His mood has lifted slightly, she senses, but only a little. He is enjoying seeing Krako held at bay by his father's mooks' guns as Kylah taunts him, even as his mind continues to race, trying to figure out how to turn the situation to his advantage.

As Cledd calms a little, Kylah feels the boiling anger turn down to a simmer. She shakes her head at Krako's inability to see that he cannot win. "You seem not to comprehend your situation," she says, trying to take a step nearer to see just how loose Cledd's grip really is--like a dog testing the length of its leash. "I know what you did, I can sense--see it," she amends hurriedly, "written all over your face. The DNA test will confirm your presence near the mainframe.

"Even if I were not aware of your collusion with Cledd Okmyx, and even without DNA, you are the natural originator of this plan. None of our people were killed. There was no attempt at ransom. Who else would have kidnapped the hostages without harming them, unless it was always intended to return them in some sort of gesture of triumph?"

She leans near him. "You must face reality. Your dreams of the Federation rewarding you for this scheme you concocted are over. All you have left now is punishment. It is up to you whether it is at the hands of Starfleet which--with all due respect to my team leader--prefers reason to torture. Especially given that, as I said, our people were not harmed, and you did not intend them to be. That is a mitigating factor." The last is far from certain, but she decides it is better to make this option as tempting as possible.

Then she lets her voice harden again. "Or would you rather leave President Okmyx to dispense his version of justice for using his son as a pawn? To punish you using that horrible weapon of his... or worse?"

Krako gets even redder in the face. "Shut up!" he shouts. "Just shut up, you!" The Starfleet officers notice that his voice shakes just a little. The President looks at him with renewed interest.

Yeg Okmyx, whom Kylah had almost forgotten about, looks from Krako to his cousin. He takes a step towards Cledd and says tentatively, maybe even worriedly, "Cledd, do you think...."

Cledd says curtly, "Always. Leave it to me, cuz, and keep it zipped."

Kylah's eyes shift to Yeg as she notices a potential weakness in their wall of silence. "You could help us. You could prevent him--" She gives a dismissive toss of her head in Krako's direction. "--From getting away with this, while your cousin is brought up on charges all by himself. Although I am now certain there is material proof in the form of DNA evidence left on the mainframe, since he is such a poor bluffer." Kylah turns slightly to send Cledd a dry look. "I did not lie about my ability to play poker," she mutters before returning to Yeg. "But it will still be of great use if we have testimony as well. You could at least get yourself out of trouble, even if Cledd refuses to acknowledge that he has been... what would your people call it?" Kylah gives a tiny, cold smile. "Oh yes. I remember our information sheet on your idioms: 'Played for a sap.'"

Nia does not like the sound in Krako's tone, and she lifts the phaser slightly, though it is still shielded by her purse. She also does not like her angle, and though she is a damn good shot with a ship's phasers or phaser canons, she is slightly less confident of a shot with civilians (and hapless ensigns) in such close quarters. So if anyone is to defend Kylah from... well, her own stupidity... she would vastly prefer it be Booker Graham.

"You left your drink over there at your table, doc," she says softly, barely paying attention to herself. "You don't mind if I take a seat and finish it, do you? Don't worry, I'll just take a sip." She looks around to see if anyone is watching. Probably not, everyone seems to be focusing on the foursome--fivesome, including this new speaker. If the coast is clear, she will slowly make her way toward Booker.

The Agonizer... Rangin groans when he hears Graham inventing things like that. Typical of the man, and the chances of Rangin helping out with his bluff were low. Of course, given how loud he is and his proximity to the communicator, he should be able to narrow down Graham to just a couple of bodies in the hall.

Or would it cause more problems if he did lend a hand. Would be easy enough. Just have the communicator beep three times on a regular basis but the panic that ensued would be problematic.

When Graham's communicator is turnd off, Rangin switches to listening in to Lt. Onn's instead and waits to see what signal is given, although he begins to wonder if a visual on the room would be a good idea.

Yeg looks from Kylah to his cousin and says, "Cledd, I really think it's time we...."

Cledd snaps, "Shut up, would you? I know what I'm doing."

"And what are you doing, son?" the President asks, sounding skeptical. "This just doesn't add up."

T'Var nods to Onn, who gets within eight steps or so of Graham when Kalo says, "Hold it, honey. Not another step." He turns towards her, but doesn't quite point his Tommy gun at her.

Rangin can hear what's going on but of course cannot see anything.

Thalen says quietly over the open channel, "A full scan confirms that three examples of Jojo Krako's DNA are on the mainframe computer, consistent with finger or palm contact."

Graham shakes his head. "I think it adds up real nice, Mr. President, and while I'm still not happy about having weapons pointed at us, I apologize for suspecting you. Just thing about it: I say our ship is going to put the screws to everybody here, at the same time that our Mr. Kylah comes up with the smoking gun that will show Krako's behind the whole thing, and what does he say? He gets hot under the collar and says we should shut my communicator down."

He gestures slightly toward Krako. "Convenient, right? You can't hear the evidence and if I'm not bluffing everybody gets treated like a suspect."

Graham is kinda sorta inclined to believe Krako and Cledd are dirty--but at the moment he's trying to work the situation to a point where the Feddies...uh, us...can take control of the situation, regardless. He's kinda sorta sure Okmyx won't gun down Krako in cold blood...kinda sorta...

"Are you a gambling man, Mr. President? I'm willing to bet that if we turn my communicator back on in 30 seconds, we'll hear DNA results from the ship that show Krako's dirty. And that in the next 30 seconds, your boy Cledd is smart enough to ditch a loser and come clean."

Kylah watches Mr. Graham, and notices Lt. Onn's move toward him. She waits until the former finishes before she says, nonconfrontationally, "Mr. Graham is correct, Mr President. It will add up if you accept my version of events. Your son is not innocent, but he" -- again she does not name Krako -- "fed upon Cledd's ambition and probably proposed the kidnapping and eventual recovery of the CAG in order to earn Starfleet's loyalty. He probably promised Cledd a role in the new leadership once you were framed for the crime, but obviously he had no intention of following through. He is now throwing Cledd aside and framing you, all in hopes that Starfleet will dismantle your entire operation and install him. I--I mean, that is what I believe," she adds, realizing there is no way she should have this information.

She turns to Yeg. "If you can confirm this, Mr. Okmyx, you will be doing your cousin a favor. He seems to think he can ignore all this by remaining silent. But he does not seem to realize that no matter what, he will be blamed for his crime--and possibly you as well, if you are implicated. The man who manipulated him with false dreams of gaining power--power with which he feels his father did not trust him--will have won. At least..." Kylah looks with angry triumph at Krako. "...At least he thinks so. Evidence will prove him wrong."

"Acknowledged," Nia murmurs and turns to Graham. "I like a guy who knows exactly what he's talking about," she says with a smile and confirming nod. "I'd never bet against you."

She then turns to Kalo. "C'mon, mister. I just wanna sit down and get a little drink. The doc's magic whatsit made me a little too dry, if you know what I mean. Not to mention my feet are beginning to kill me. You aren't wearing heels like this." She lifts her right foot to show off the beautiful but impractical shoes Wardrobe provided for her--not to mention her own long, shapely leg.

"You seriously think I'm a threat to you guys, with all the weapons you got? In fact, why'n't you let all of us guests leave? We can scram and let you focus on whatever the heck's going on here. Seems to me your beef's with the Vice President and that mouthy girl over there. Plus the doc, and of course Mr. Medium, Dark and Handsome to my rear," she adds with a tilt of her head toward Booker, "who I hope likes the view. So why not let us go? Or geeze, at least let me sit down where I want to, so I can enjoy this floor show you got going."

Yeg Okmyx listens to Kylah, licks his lips and nervously glances between Cledd and the elder Okmyx.

Kalo looks from Onn to the President for orders. The Iotian leader rubs his chin and seems just about to say something.

But Kylah's last taunt pushes Krako over the edge, and his temper flares. He makes a quick twisting motion with his right forearm, and suddenly a silvery, double-edged knife is in his hand. He growls, "I warned you, sister...!" and lunges past one of the President's mooks, rushing towards Kylah and raising his knife.

"Look out!" shouts Morris, starting towards Krako.

Cledd grabs Kylah hard around the shoulders and starts to turn her away.

Time seems to slow down. Kylah has been facing the president and hears Krako's voice, but does not immediately think it worthwhile to look at him. ...Not until her peripheral vision catches the sudden movement and the flash of metal. Instinct and experience as a daughter of Elas send her free hand down to slip underneath the hem of her skirt, intending to grasp the hilt of her throwing knife.

Of course, there is nothing but a garter there. She has no weapon, neither Elasian nor Starfleet-issued, and the stark reality of just how vulnerable she is takes over from instinct. She gasps and tries to wrench herself from Cledd, but his arm wraps around her shoulder.

One flash of thought connects this instant among so many where she has been nothing but a useless body with no agency: with Jan in his bed, with Palver on his ship, on the cement pavement near the warehouse on Anubis, and in her own quarters in Zweller's arms--this last, a memory that bursts into life for the first time. And it is with this shock, this sinking, frozen sense of helplessness, that Kylah just stares at Krako's face as Cledd moves her on his own.

Having scanned the area for all its available data, Rangin contacts the USS Yorktown transporter room with the details just as he had done with the CAG. Although with everyone in there under watch by Okmyx's men there should be less chance of something happening than before. Although Kylah seems determined to continue to push for answers, a lot of it depends on Okmyx and what whims he is having today.

"Rangin to Chief Ngyuen. Here is an updates set of data on our people in the room in case of..."

His words stop as he hears the calls from the ballroom. He can see the dots moving on his tricorder, hear Morris's shout of warning and can only imagine what is happening.

"Chief. Emergency transport. Ensign Kylah." The words blurt out without thinking as Rangin does the only thing he can think of to pull Ensign Kylah to safety.

Nia is damn glad that she's looking at the president, rather than at Booker. Normally she'd much rather focus on the latter, but if she'd been indulging herself with pleasant activities she wouldn't have noticed Krako's odd motion with his arm while he muttered--something.

The knife is only a blur, but she sees it, and her brain registers it and turns it into the logical deduction: Krako. Knife. Attacking. And his target is obviously Kylah, who makes some weird gesture with her hand before Cledd takes hold of her shoulders. She's basically as threatening as a sacrificial lamb.

Nia's gaze sweeps around to Okmyx with his gun, and the goons who are just as armed and deadly. Kylah might be the immediate prey, but Krako--and all the guests nearby or anywhere in the path of those machine guns--are about to be just as imperiled.

All hell's about to be turned loose. And Nia's mind distills the situation into a single thought.

Shit.

She drops the purse to reveal her phaser. "Officer in danger," she hisses. "All teams get in here now!" into her communicator. Then, darting forward, she shouts to the room: "Everybody get down!"

Even as she speaks, she lifts her phaser and starts to aim it--but Morris has moved shockingly fast and she has to stare at his back. Fuck me, what is this idiot doing? The answer is obvious before she finishes the thought. He's heading to Krako, and will probably block her shot.

Assessing the scene, Nia makes a split-second decision. I'm not the one for this.

She's already in motion, and so it just takes a slight swerve to her left to find Graham. If necessary, she'll slam her body into anyone in her way as she locates Booker and reaches her phaser out to him. "You're the better shot. Take anyone down you have to!"

Time seems to slow to a crawl.

Krako, his face contorted by anger, charges closer to Kylah.

Cledd pushes her sharply away, putting himself between her and Krako. Morris is closing the distance, too.

From the Yorktown, Nguyen says worriedly to Rangin, "The signals are all intermixed. I'll try... stand by."

Three Crows says, "On our way," and Mahmoud echoes her.

Nia's flirtation is doing a good job killing time and also, kind of arousing but that little distraction ends in a milisecond.

What to do is obvious. It's as if the room is moving in slow motion.

Back up is certainly on its way but you see the weapon, the threat

Booker immediately sends the table, with the full strength of both hands under the edge, moving in a direction opposite of his shortest path toward Krako and Kylah (preferably in the direction of a nearby goon if that happens to be the case).

From the corner of his eye he registers Onn's movement.

I could kiss you intrudes at the back of his mind, but he's already moving by instinct toward her, just far enough to grab the phaser while angling to get the best shot and the most direct path to Krako.

It's just as far in the back of his mind: Nia could watch me get shot, right here.


But it changes nothing, he's working by muscle memory: you see the threat, you go for the threat, you count on your backup.

Stumbling after Cledd has released her, Kylah feels the full weight of the emotional chaos filling the room--fear, rage, confusion. Tears blur her vision and she winces at the pressure and pain of it all. She cries out no! and in sheer desperation grabs hold of Cledd--though her watery eyes can barely make out his distorted form--hoping to pull him out of jeopardy. A mouse trying to move a bull.

While playing 'hot potato' with the phaser, Nia glances at Booker for those frozen seconds, knowing he's plenty capable of handling himself but wishing like hell he was anywhere but here. Once the weapon's in his hand, he's already focused on whoever he's aiming at, not looking at her--which is good: that's what he should be doing.

Now that she's delegated one job away, she needs to act herself. Mentally she's already made her decision of what to do once the phaser is gone--find a weapon she can use well. Melee is more her style, and she darts her gaze around to hunt for a chair. As she does, she exhales another request: "Cheverez, be ready to stun if necessary."

With the flood of energy through her veins, Nia feels the cool, prickly sensation of her body's natural instinct turning skin to scales. Not that her scales will be of much use against these particular enemies. If she were in Kylah's position, her protection would keep her mostly safe from Krako. Knives, teeth, claws, thorns... all are a big part of why her race maintained its scales over millennia of evolution--along with her planet's oppressive heat.

Bullets from a meter or less away? She might as well be covered in lace. Still, her body reacts as is natural, and it might have some tactical advantage; an instant of a "what the hell?" reaction from the gangsters might buy her the time she needs.

Meanwhile, if or when Nia finds a chair, she'll grab it, target the goon nearest to her, and slam the chair at him--hopefully avoiding getting slammed by blast of bullets for her trouble.

Everything seems to happen almost at once.

The table Graham flung knocks down one of the President's mooks with a loud crash. One of the nightclub's guests screams shrilly.

The older Security man deftly catches Onn's phaser in midair just as Krako knocks aside Cledd, who was stepping towards him but is kept off-balance by Kylah grabbing at him. Morris comes even closer to Krako, hands outstretched. Cledd and Morris are both, for a moment, in Graham's line of fire, but then they fall away, pushed away by the heavyset Krako's bull-like momentum. Kylah loses her tenuous grip on Cledd.

Onn clocks the nearest mook with a chair, and he falls heavily to the floor. Someone else is shouting, and another woman screams.

Kalo brings up his Tommy gun, firing at Krako, missing him but tearing up the far wall. The sound is deafening, and the room fills with the smell of burnt gunpowder. All the civilians drop to the floor.

Krako reaches Kylah and slashes with his knife, cutting her deeply on her right shoulder and upper right arm.

Only then does Graham have his shot. He fires his phaser, stunning both Kylah and Krako. They fall heavily to the polished dance floor.

Through her ringing ears, covered in her race's distinctive scales, Onn hears Cheverez saying something indistinct over the comm channel.

Rangin's only thoughts at this time sre to get in there as quickly as possible with the security team to help restore order.

He can only hope Cheif Nguyen is successful in getting Kylah out of trouble in time given that Rangin had just provided the coordinates for her.

Kylah's heart thumps with success at having moved Cledd, but the emotion is quickly followed by alarm when he slips through her fingers again, and finally fright as Krako comes raging toward her, knife still aimed straight at her chest. She tries to evade by jerking to the left, and instinctively reaches toward the president in a kind of pleading gesture.

Even as she does, an empathetic fury explodes within her once Krako is upon her, and then--

A millisecond of shock as the knife slices through the thin strap of her dress, then her skin. Krako's blade digs in and down, sending pain hot as fire coursing along her arm, shoulder, neck and chest. The cry from her own lips seems so unfamiliar, it could be coming from someone else: maybe Krako, who is right on top of her as she grabs hold of him, intending to push him away but also needing something to keep her steady. But neither effort works. She starts to crumple, suddenly terribly, terribly cold despite the thick, warm liquid seeping through the long wound, to her dress and arm and chest.

She does not want Krako to be the last thing she sees. So she turns away to the rest of the ballroom, dizzy and terrified, and finds Mr. Graham. He is aiming his phaser at her and she nearly gets the world help out. But the flash of his weapon is faster. A blast of energy slams into her side; in this endless moment of clarity she can almost identify every cell the phaser beam paces on its long journey through her body.

Krako, inches away, topples over just as she does, and they reach the floor together. But Kylah does not know this because now Kylah sees nothing at all.

Rangin, Rawlings and Garcia come crashing through one door, out into the ballroom, and moments later, Three Crows and Mahmoud lead their Security squads in, also on the run, emerging from the lobby and a backstage door. They all have phaser-2s leveled at President Okmyx, his mooks and the other people in the room. Two of the mooks turn and raise their weapons towards the Starfleet redshirts, and are immediately stunned and dropped.

"Guns down, hands up!" Three Crows loudly orders, and the Iotians all speedily comply. They are herded away from Onn and her people, searched and scanned, and their weapons are collected.

T'Var swiftly goes to Kylah, takes out her medical tricorder and medikit, and begins treating the Communications officer's wounds. Soon her heavy bleeding is stanched.

Rangin sees Kylah and Krako, crumpled together on the floor. Nguyen says over the comm channel, "Mr. Rangin, I'm sorry, the lifesigns are all intermixed. I am unable to get a lock on Mr. Kylah."

Mahmoud looks around, kicks away Krako's knife, then sees Graham and strides over to him. "Are you OK, Book?"

Nia curses to herself as she dives low, aiming herself at the dropped weapon. She's never used a model like this, though the mechanics seem obvious enough. But she doesn't want to use it--this is a weapon to kill, not to stun, and her unfamiliarity with the gun and its action means she can't fathom taking a non-lethal shot, or even a shot aimed at the right person.

If she has to kill, she'll have to. But the main intent now is to get the weapon away from the goon or any of Krako's men--or just some random gangster.

Next move is to get somewhere safe, or at least not right out in the open now that she's revealed that she's no ditzy lush. When she spots the impromptu barricade not far away--the upended table, courtesy of Booker Graham--Nia exhales in relief and pledges to thank the hell out of Booker when they're alone.

While she uses a rather reptilian crawl to get behind the barrier, she finally has an opportunity to respond to Cheverez. "Say again?" she asks, hoping he can even hear her through the crazy amount of noise. And others are also audible via the open nature of their comm link. Damn it. "Private channel," she tells her device. "Onn to Cheverez, repeat?"

Her mind is hammering itself with strategies. Maybe I should just get him to stun the building. Fuck whatever kind of non-intervention idea Singh has. This isn't an exercise, we've got feet on the ground in trouble here-- Which is when she takes a worried glance to see how Booker's shot went.

And sees blood. A lot of it. With Kylah on the floor.

Shit. Shit shit shit! As pissed off with the ensign as she is, Nia is sickened that something happened to the girl on her watch. Her throat spasms into a tight knot of muscle. But she has to keep moving and she does. "Repeat!" she yells again into her communicator, then adds: "Open channel. Teams, move faster! Nguyen, beam Ensign--"

She stops mid-command. Because at last the entire team comes barging in. As she watches, everything seems to happen with extraordinary speed, including the stunning of two gangsters. An act that causes the rest of the supposedly hardcore gangsters to just... give up.

Nia grabs the edge of the table and scrambles to her feet. Her whole body is so tense and taut that it's shaking, and she doesn't seem able to let go of the gun. She stares at the Starfleet officers in mute gratitude--for a few seconds, the only kind she can offer. Okay. Okay. Get it together. "Good work," she manages after what feels like forever. "Onn to Yorktown. Situation is under control." After a deep breath, she forces her gaze back to the girl lying on the floor. "T'Var, how is she?"

Graham glances at Onn briefly, grateful for the role she played and that she's safe.

But his eyes immediately turn to Kylah.

That's a lot of blood...

"Tell you in a minute, Faisal," Graham answers. "Doc?" he asks, following up Onn's question.

in the intervening moment he turns back to Mahmoud. "Take Krako, Cleedd, and Yegg into Federation custody. Confine each in the brig in isolation until we can interrogate."

He turns back toward Kylah, then stops, and turns sharply and take a step toward Okmyx, his voice tight. "As a head of state and ostensible friend of the Federation, Mr. President, I am going to ask you--and Kalo--to voluntarily participate in our investigation without bringing charges in this matter against you. But if she dies all fucking bets are off, Okmyx."

Nia takes a few deep breaths, listening to Booker but watching T'Var patching Kylah up. At least the bleeding's mostly stopped, as far as Nia can tell. Meanwhile, as she relaxes her guard, she feels her own scales receding, though the usual ones remain around her temples.

She walks up to Mahmoud and Three Crows. "Thanks," she says quietly, then turns to Booker. He seems externally calm, but his voice sounds like a blade being honed by steel. Before he starts anything, she needs to apprise him of... certain changes in the cast.

"Excuse me, Mr. Graham. Mr. Mahmoud, belay that order; that is, take hold of them, but they stay here for now." She turns to Okmyx and curtly says: "Mr. President. I'm Lieutenant Nia Onn of the U.S.S. Yorktown. I'm in command of this mission. Excuse us for one moment."

She moves closer to Booker and, facing away from Okmyx and almost resting her cheek against Booker's--close enough to feel the heat from his skin and light prickle of stubble--murmurs softly into his ear:

"Few things, Book. Take some breaths. FYI, I replaced Rangin as mission leader a couple hours ago. We need to get Singh's approval before you can get your hands on Krako, much as I know you want to. He's the vice president, not just some rando bad guy. Don't worry, we've got evidence, and obviously plenty of witnesses to what he just did to Kylah."

She feels how tense he is--she was just as tense only moments ago, but she's very aware of his bond with the Elasian officer, and the fact that he might be replaying the attack in his head, wondering if he could've prevented it somehow. Knowing this, it's all she can do to keep her hand from reaching up and rubbing his arm to reassure him. But obviously, that's not possible. She keeps her body professional, straight and tall as she continues:

"In the meantime, roll with it, okay? Bad cop routine is fine, but don't undercut me. I'm dressed like a tart and I've been acting like a lush. I need to get some cred. with this guy. Got it?" She leans back just far enough to see if his eyes are glaring at her or if he's at least somewhat cooled down.

Cheverez says to Onn, "Your report is acknowledged. We were standing by to stun everyone in the building, but then your transmission was drowned out by gunfire and the Security teams went in. Mr. Nguyen is standing by if you need to beam up Ens. Kylah or anyone else."

Dr. T'Var, working with her instruments on Kylah and not looking up, says, "They're deep wounds, but not life-threatening. She is capable of being transported; I think I should return to the ship with her." She sounds as worried as an emotionally-controlled Vulcan can be.

Mahmoud replies to Onn, "Understood, ma'am." Krako is still phaser-stunned, but one of the Security guards stands next to him for the Transporter Room to identify and beam them both up. Cledd and Yeg are taken into custody by another guard.

Yeg says, "I've got a lot to tell you Feddies." Graham has a glimpse of the disgusted expression on Cledd's face before the young Okmyx assumes a carefully-neutral expression.

President Okmyx, his hands still raised, says hastily to Graham, "Sure, sure! Anything I can do, you know I will. Kalo and all my boys are here to help, too. I'm just glad you nailed Krako, the punk."

"Thank you for trying anyway Chief," Rangin says quietly back over the comm channel. His instincts had been spot on for once and yet Kylah is still there in a bloodied heap on the floor. Whatever happened it appears that Mr. Graham's much vaunted prowess is not as sharp as he makes out.

Feeling sad and disgusted tfat once again Kylsh is injured, he wonders if she should ever be allowed on another away trip. Then again you're aversge redshirt would not have survived past the second planet.

With T'Var treating her, Rangin gives a wide berth to the rest of the group. No doubt Lt. Onn will be celebrating the end of a successful mission and Rangin wants little part of it. Instead he takes out his tricorder and does a sweep of the room looking for the anomolous signal that had appeared previously.

A whispered I wouldn't have ever wanted you down here in harm's way but I'm glad you were... dies on Graham's lips as Nia moves close and he hears what she has to say.

His jaw clenches and unclenches, and he looks away.

"I'd recommend Security handle this scene," he says quietly. "But your orders are understood, Ma'am."

Nia watches Booker's eyes shift away from hers, and though she's been wearing this glittery handkerchief of a dress for a while now, she feels cold for the first time.

"Don't worry. We've got plenty of Security." She keeps her voice low and tries to be reassuring, but now there's an unnatural layer of uncertainty that she can't hide, and adds even more quietly: "At least, I thought we did."

Nia returns to the still disconcerting view of the injured young officer. She wonders if Booker's upset with her because now, instead of being able to blame Rangin for Kylah's injury, he has to pin the guilt on Nia herself. If that's the case, he'll have to get in line.

"Okay, T'Var. If she can be moved, then get her up there." Nia, sick of having to talk into her cleavage, sticks her hand down her front to yank the communicator from her 20th century undergarments, which are just as ridiculous as the clothing. Her breasts are a bit sore where the metal device pressed against her flesh, but she refrains from rubbing them in front of the mixed company.

"Onn to Nguyen. We need to get Ensign Kylah to Sickbay. Did I hear right--is there something wrong with the transporter?" While waiting for a response, she examines Cledd. "Didn't get wounded yourself at all, did you? Looked like the two of you were trying to help each other. As the team leader and her crewmate, I'm grateful for your attempt. But in the end, she made sure she got the knife, not you. Hope you appreciate that. Maybe enough to start telling us the truth? Though why you wanna protect that vermin is beyond me."

She shakes her head and faces Okmyx again. "Mr. President, we need to question your son here. And you. Do you have any objection to--willingly--assisting in our investigation, by going up to our ship? That'd be the ideal arrangement."

Rangin's tricorder sweep reveals nothing unexpected in the ballroom, except, he notices, that Kylah's readings do not appear to be those of a typical Elasian.

T'Var nods and says, "Understood, Mr. Onn." She gets her communicator back from the pile of equipment earlier confiscated by President Okmyx's men, and stands next to Kylah. "T'Var to Yorktown. Two to beam up. Please have a gurney and med team ready for us in the Transporter Room."

"Acknowledged, Doctor," says Nguyen, and shortly beams them up, after assuring Onn that the transporter is working fine.

Cledd, hearing the Sidonian woman, crosses his arms and glumly says nothing.

His father glares at him, turns, smiles at her and says, "Like I said, I wanna help. Here, up there, wherever you like, hon-- er, Lieutenant."

The placidity of Okmyx the Elder is a bit surprising, but Nia just raises an eyebrow slightly and gives him a brief, cool smile. She's not his 'honey' and is no more pleased than Ensign Kylah was to hear the endearment, even if he was smart enough to cut it off. "Good to hear, sir. In the meantime..."

She glances around the room. There's such a mixture of people that she can't possibly determine which are regular guests and which were--are?--were Krako's now-disarmed goons. Probably the better-dressed types are guests, but you never know. "Okay, everyone," she says, projecting as clearly as she can. "Many of you are guests--and musicians," she adds with a nod a the stage. "You've just been through an ordeal, and on behalf of Starfleet I'm sorry you had to endure all this. I know you wanna get home, or at least find a place to relax. We'll make sure that happens as soon as possible. Just give us a few more minutes."

She lifts a corner of her mouth in a crooked smile toward Cledd. "I bet after a night like this, you might not be getting repeat customers from this group. Not so good for business, betraying your dad and kidnapping people who meant you no harm, huh?"

Petty, sure, but Nia doesn't care. Let him realize what a screw-up he is. He had a nice setup here and he let some kind of daddy-issue ruin what genuinely seems like an attractive club, from what little she's seen of it. She focuses on the pretty impressive number of red-shirted officers in the room. Scanning the group, she absently realizes she's slept with nearly a third of the men. Or came close, no pun intended, she thinks, eyeing Booker before returning to address the armed squadron.

"I thanked the leads on this, but all of you did excellent, efficient work. I appreciate it immensely. What we need now is to separate the guests from the goons. Mr. Graham," she says abruptly. "Could you and Doub--um, Ensign Rawlings here please coordinate with Mr. Kalo and help identify Krako and Cledd's men?"

A thought occurs to her and she grimaces. Zabo. That bastard.

She snaps her head to Mr. Kalo. "Krako's guy, someone named Zabo. He and a handful of men were 'helping' us at the hostage site. We're not gonna be able to deal with them. Guess that'll be your job, unless my higher-ups have a solution to that. There was also one of Cledd's boys, Yommyck, I think it was? Real quick on the trigger, that one."

Nia smiles at Cledd. "Thanks to about a hundred bullets, I think I came about two inches away from never seeing this lovely establishment of yours--or any other establishment, lovely or not. That would've been a shame. Rangin, do you remember if I got his name right? Yommyck? Either way, Kalo, he's someone to watch out for." She shrugs Yommyck, if that is in fact his name, out of her thoughts.

Suddenly she reaches out to Booker under the pretext of stopping him from moving away. Mostly she just has a strong urge to... connect. Maybe it's the memory of how close she came to death not long ago. "I just wanted..." Nia hesitates, not knowing what she can say to him, then just nods toward the area where the amassed weaponry is being stored. "Before you start to separate the guests from the goons, you might as well follow T'Var's lead as far as retrieving whatever was taken from you. And Kylah's equipment too, whatever she had. She'll want it back, I'm sure. Maybe you want to be the one to..."

Nia doesn't finish, just releases Booker's arm with a pretty useless shrug. He needs to get to work, she might as well let him. They'll deal with... whatever this is... later.

She knows she needs to get in touch with the Yorktown, but before she does, she takes stock of everything and, when her gaze falls on one almost-forgotten individual, she sets her jaw as she mulls over what to do about him. Okay. Time to take advantage of the non-Security officers in the room. "Lt. Garcia," she says, addressing one of the three remaining non-Security officers in the ballroom, aside from her, of course. "And Ensign Rangin. C'mere, if you will, please?" While she waits, Nia moves closer to the stage, making sure she, Rangin and Garcia can have a little privacy as she discusses this slightly delicate issue.

Rangin mulls over the readings from the room. Ensign Kylah not being a full Elasian doesn't bother him anymore and indeed, one of these days he would be only to keen to find out just how far her abilities stretched towards being a full Elasian.

But that is merely scientific curiousity, and besides, the chances of Kylah ever allowing him now to investigate such a option, on such a personal topic, is laughable. Another of the Universe's mysteries dangled just out of reach.

No, he is more bothered by the reading from earlier that appears to have vanished and he runs a quick diagnostic on the tricorder, which will, of course, come back and tell him everything is fine with it. As they always do.

His thoughts are interrupted by Lt. Onn and her slight informality grates on his nerves. No, wait, it's not so much her as the fact she's in charge that grates. Then again, why Captain Singh had ever put him in this position is beyond him, as it appears that nothing he had done was either quick enough of good enough for the mission. Then again, he thinks back and the order to let this group go to the casino is his. Knowing his current luck, Singh will be tearing a strip off him for allowing it and in due course, being responsible for the injury to Ensign Kylah. Odds on that Graham already thought like that.

But at this point in time, all he can do is suck it up, obey orders and wait for later. He shoulders the tricorder and heads across to where Lt. Onn is waiting.

"Ma'am?" he enquires politely as he approaches and waits for her to speak.

Nia nods at Rangin and, whenever Garcia joins them, will begin. "Thanks again for everything. Aside from Kylah's injury, which... is a big aside, I know. But let's face it, the girl's an injury magnet." She hesitates, then shakes her head. "Sorry. I won't make light of her situation. Point is, we all did a good job with minimal casualties. I know security saved the day, they usually do when tactics and muscles are needed, but it took solid background snooping and strategizing to get us here too. So, go Team Brain. We techies and engies prevailed too."

She smiles briefly. "Anyway. There's a little unfinished business, and I'd like your opinions here. We need to make sure Lt. Morris is handled carefully. We've all been teamed up, so unless I'm mistaken, none of us has dealt with him yet. While Security separates everyone, I'd like you to chat with him. I'd ask Mr. Graham, but I think... well, Morris will be less inclined to assume he's being interrogated by one of you. With Security, even the best officers when put under stress can make people feel defensive. Whereas Garcia, you're a Comms expert, I assume you know how to communicate. And Rangin..."

She looks at the shorter man. He... he doesn't like her. Or trust her. Or both. She doesn't need him to, and frankly she might not like or trust him much, either. She really can't get a reading on the guy. Is he slippery, as Booker thinks, or just super-self-contained and hyper-defensive? Could be one, both, or neither.

"Rangin, you're a sharp observer. And a scientist. You might be able to connect with Morris on that level. Since none of us has met him formally... again, as far as I remember... this is a good chance to get to know him. You guys should try to see if he's been incredibly lucky in evading all these intertwined gangster factions or what."

Her fingers drum a rhythm on her hip as she stares at the lone CAG member thoughtfully. "I mean... his group was supposed to be taking measure of this place, right? I'm not a sociologist, but seems to me they've done kind of a crappy job if they weren't able to suss out that Cledd here was in league with Krako, and that Krako's little Feddie cult seems to have been a load of bullshit. At least if Kylah's accusations were right. Before Krako went after her, she was spouting off some pretty sharp claims, stuff I don't think any of us saw. As you heard, the DNA evidence she thought of backed her up as far as Krako's involvement goes with the mainframe. So was that just a lucky guess while she was busy provoking him just for the hell of it, or did she manage to get Morris--or even Cledd--to say something privately to her? You know her way better than I do, you've been close to her, how do you think she figured all that--"

Nia cuts off at once when she realizes she's been focusing on Rangin during this last part. If she were the blushing type, she'd blush now--but she isn't, so she doesn't. Further, with Garcia here, she can't elaborate on why she just stopped herself. All she can do is shake her head in a tiny, apologetic gesture, and continues. "Um, I'd like some ideas on that, but... anyway, just find out what Morris knows, please. Both of you. I'd appreciate your insight."

She ends with a smile--open toward Garcia, slightly regretful to Rangin. "That okay, or do you have any other ideas before we clear out of here? I do think that cousin might be ripe for the plucking, informationally speaking, that is. What do you think?"