Star Trek RPG - Mission #7: "The War-Brotherhood of Irkhuit"

Rawlings is agreeable to stopping. Rangin seems about to disagree, but sees Kylah's face, then smiles, nods and complies. He and the hulking Security officer pause awkwardly a short distance away. Kylah notices, after a few seconds, Rangin gesture toward an available nearby table, and he and Rawlings go and sit down there. A waiter swoops in upon them almost at once, and they talk briefly.

Kylah gets a slight psi impression from the two Saurians, but not nearly as strong as she would from Humans at that distance. Her sense of them is... different, and hard to describe. She can't figure out their specific emotional state, only that they are feeling some kind of emotions, if not all that strongly. She does not sense anything hostile from them, however.

"Invisible ink is a good idea," replies Bizhi. "Could also be coded DNA or polypeptide chains rather than ink per se. If our subject was sending or receiving clandestine messages, it might not occur to anyone to look out for anything so archaic. However, it would all show up on a routine scan, which seems a dangerous risk to take.

"An intensive tricorder scan will identify anything like fruit juice, or if someone spilled Romulan ale on them, or handled them with dirty fingers. Also any common poisons, in case the substance had something to do with his death. A deeper analysis will require access to a lab, but even if we talk our way into one, laboratory work goes beyond what we can justify to the local authorities as emergency response or due diligence. We need to be careful, especially if we plan to be off-planet in four hours."

Kylah listens as carefully as she can. "I suppose we cannot risk harming evidence." Disappointment is obvious in her well-considered words, and when she catches it herself she glances up at the doctor with a small apologetic smile.

"I would like to be able to fix something. I cannot do a thing for Velir. I certainly cannot do a thing for--for our pilot." With a quick check of the Saurians and the stranger not far from her, Kylah does not think they noticed her hesitation when she nearly used Lt. Onn's rank.

She sighs and clasps her hands together in what her upbringing taught her is one of the few appropriate positions when one wishes to be informal. "Since some sort of code might be involved with your case... if I may call it that," she adds with another tiny smile. "Well, that is my area of expertise. Encoding, Decrypting... that sort of thing."

She sits up a little straighter and changes the subject. "You are getting quite the immersive experience for your first mission with us." 'Us.' Did I really say that? When did I start thinking of the ship as an 'Us'? Or myself as an 'us' with anyone but Uncle Aldaan?

"Actually I too had a similar welcome. We were stranded on a research station far from the ship, with genetically altered animals and a gruesome virus that turned the staff into these... cannibalistic creatures. Three of us were wounded, Velir included. I too, but my injury was very minor." She absently runs her fingers along her wrist, which has never fully recovered. "The third... Lt. Fujishiro Iota... she caught the virus. And died of it."

After swallowing, Kylah lifts a hand. "I wonder what you might have thought of that mission. It was highly medically... interesting, and the ethics of such experimentations might have engaged--oh, forgive me. I am rambling away... I do so when I am anxious. What do you think of all this? Everything that has happened here? Have you been involved in similar situations, Doctor?"

Prompted by Nia's comment, Graham looks around and sees Rangin.

"Ah holy hell..." he grunts, grimacing. "My bad for not having Rawlings sit on his ass immediately once we got here," he growls.

"We may not tamper with the evidence, but we absolutely cannot drop these items in someone's lap without a thorough examination, As I said, they may be dangerous," Bizhi says dryly. "There was also a communicator of a fashion I have not seen before; perhaps you will be able to recognize it?"

Hearing about Kylah's colleague dying from a zombie cannibal bite is sobering. "I did not sign up hoping to stay on the ship and tend to toothaches," he begins to answer. "Whatever exactly I was hoping for, we saw some action. One time we were in support of extracting crew from a crashed cargo transport--- some classified materials on board as well--- the site was under fire, and there were wounded... I would like to say that, horrific as it was, we were in control of the situation, but, as with a virus, or the situation in which we now find ourselves, there is always a risk of an unwelcome surprise."

Satchell finishes with her comm and waves Onn and Graham back over. She looks genuinely regretful. "Capt. Green said no thanks at any price. He wants nothing to do with Starfleet right now, even if it's not official business. Sorry. Thought we could make this happen."

The waiter leaves Rangin and Rawlings's table.

The Klingon singer has stopped screeching, her musical set apparently concluded for now, and the bar gets a little quieter.

Dr. Mäkeläinen notices the sudden change in the acoustic background and looks over at the Klingon singer with curiosity.

The news from Satchell is wrenching, but not an utter surprise, in light of what he just said to Kylah. That was supposed to be at least one lifeline fast. He weighs whether it be worth the trouble of asking Satchell about other merchant vessels. Cannot hurt. "Don't suppose you know of anyone else heading that way? We will not have heard any names from you, if anybody asks." Following their conversation he will down the rest of his drink, if any remains, and wish her and her friends, "Swift travels, and may your engines burn hot."

Surrounded by her colleagues, Kylah feels a little safer. At least now they outnumber the Zephyr's crew. It likely does not matter, as no one here seems hostile, but she is relieved nevertheless.

The Zephyr. At last she remembers from whom she heard the name. "I beg your pardon, ma'am," she says as delicately as possible. "I know it will not likely change matters but we are hoping to determine what happened in the... tragic incident with the Jaunty. We--Mr. Graham and I--spoke to a crewmember of the Wendigo earlier. His name was..."

Kylah's memory fails her. Bell? Wells? Too much has happened in the short time since they spoke with him. She moves on hurriedly. "I forget his name, but he suggested that people from the Zephyr might be in a position to help us understand the circumstances." Suddenly she succeeds in her attempts to brute force her memory into giving up the name of the Wendigo contact.

"Mr. Pell!" she blurts, perhaps a little louder than necessary, then shakes her head apologetically. "The Wendigo crewman who recommended that you might have some insight was named Pell. Anyway... can you help us?"

An unintentional soft groan accompanies Nia's frustrated sigh when Satchell relates the bad news. What if I tell your captain this is a matter of life or death. Would that change things? Truth is, she doubts it. While the doctor asks a good question, Nia turns during Kylah's prattle and opens her communicator.

In her notes she checks the other prospective ships she and Booker received from the old woman. Nia's eyes scan the area--it's automatic, not a real attempt to magically find a crew wearing Deidre patches conveniently large enough for her to see.

But she speaks softly to Booker. "Great. My lucky streak continues. All right, there were two other likely ships and one dim prospect. Ignoring the one that's... that's now one crew member short," she says tactfully with a bitter look toward Rangin, "There's that other ship whatsername recced as a decent possibility. The Deirdre. Captain named Hvraty. Though who knows if they're even still here."

Nia glances down at the floor, then looks back at Booker in an effort to seem like her hopes weren't just dashed. "I'm gonna go try to find them. Do you want to stay here to investigate... all this? Or have a friendly 'chat' with Rangin?" She gives a shrug as if it's all the same to her. "Or, um... come with me?"

To Dr. Mäkeläinen, Satchell says, "I hear the Dierdre is headed that way, although probably not as quickly." She thinks. "The Astral Queen and Four Little Diamonds, too, I think. Maybe the Herrel'uhk? Not sure. I could be wrong."

To Kylah, she frowns and says, "I don't know of any Pell." She lowers her voice and leans closer. "But the Jaunty was a smuggler; everyone knew that. I hear the Beowulf tried to stop and search her; she tried to run but couldn't get away. After that... well, shooting at a warship that's bigger and faster than you is hardly ever a good idea."

The waiter brings drinks for Rangin and Rawlings at their table not far away.

One of the Saurians says something to its comrade. Satchell, overhearing, says something to them both in an exasperated tone of voice.

"Thank you, madam," Kylah says slowly. "The Herrel'uhk... do you know where they are from?"

Even as she speaks, her nose wrinkles slightly with a tiny frown. That crewman with the Wendigo certainly implied that the Zephyr crew would have much to say about the Jaunty--Kylah had assumed this meant they would be defending the lost ship. Yet Satchell here seems very reasonable about the possible justification for the battle.

"If you will forgive me," she says to Satchell, glancing a little nervously at the Saurians since she has no idea what they appear to be disagreeing about. "The overall mood here--including your captain's--is that the Beowulf and Starfleet in general are to blame; that the incident was unprovoked. It sounds as if you think otherwise? Of course, any loss is a tragedy. We always hope to solve disputes... peacefully..."

Her words stumble as the memories of Velir's 'dispute' and how it ended bring a slight flush to her face. She looks back at Dr. Mäkeläinen, who likely has better questions for them.

Off Kylah's look, Mäkeläinen states, "We are just trying to get back to our ship. We were not lying about that. No idea what kind of official investigation, or lack of investigation for that matter, will have been kicked off by that incident, but that's not why we happen to be here. However, if anyone did have copies of sensor logs or eyewitness accounts or any other information, and we serendipitously happened to run across such important evidence, we are in a position to make sure it does not get buried."

When he gets a chance for a quick sidebar with Kylah, he says, "We still have some ships' names in hand, though the list is growing short. I was musing earlier, if there is a local pilots' bulletin board, there may be something listed beyond scheduled runs. Even a yacht or multipurpose vessel will do if it is going our way. We want to avoid the most desperate shipmasters, but that applies both ways."

Satchell rubs her chin and says to Kylah, "Well, the Herrel'uhk is a Denobulan light freighter, Federation-flagged, but I don't know her homeport." About the Jaunty she adds, her voice still low, "I'm from Earth, lady. I grew up there. It's a lot different from here, as you've probably noticed. I know Starfleet well enough to know there was probably a good reason why the Jaunty got fragged. But to people on Ollos, well... most of them aren't going to see things that way."

She looks askance at Dr. Mäkeläinen. "I don't know about any sensor logs or evidence or anything, pal." She points her finger at him. "I don't want to talk to any damn Starfleet investigators, and I don't want to be quoted about anything. You get me?"

Nearby, the Saurians stir.

Unperturbed, Dr. Mäkeläinen blinks. "Certainly, Madame... alas, I cannot remember your name. Must be that craythur."

Considering the edginess of everyone around the table, Kylah is surprised by the other woman's use of the title Lady, which on Elas is commonly used by non-nobility to address someone of Kylah's rank and a mark of humble respect. Frankly Kylah is rather pleased to hear it in this context, and returns the deferential term with the usual nod of acknowledgment.

To Dr. Mäkeläinen, she murmurs, "It is Ms. Satchell," before raising her voice again. "Thank you, ma'am. I am no Security officer; neither is my friend here. We simply wished to know what to expect from anyone else we must ask for help. Since the man from the Wendigo suggested you might explain the situation..."

She shrugs apologetically. "Our chief aim is to leave, not begin some prolonged investigation." She rises, then hesitates. "Has your bill been seen to? I would like to thank you for your assistance by buying a round of drinks." Kylah is uncertain if the Saurians understand her, but she nods at them in gratitude.

"Oh... do you wish me to keep your name confidential when asking about the Herrel'uhk, Astral Queen and the--the Four Diamonds?" Awkward, she does her best to avoid glancing back at Ens. Rawlings and Velir at their other table. Short of smuggling Velir on board, the last ship must be avoided at all cost.

Graham can't help but show some disappointment at Satchell's initial decline.

"Well shit..."

Graham listens to the banter and grunts. "From Earth as well," he says in a low voice to Satchell. "Rest assured, we didn't hear boo from you about anything."

He briefly considers trying to make a medical emergency-based appeal, but discounts it in a moment - one, Nia might not appreciate it. Two, it means Nia alone, or at least her and the doctor, travelling solo.

He places a hand on Nia's arm. "Wait up...please. I've get your back. Rawlings can handle Rangin if need be."

Mäkeläinen smiles tightly at Kylah's "reminder" and silently wills Satchell to understand that everything is under control.

"We have just stood a round," he says to Kylah, "and it looks like these fellows," indicating the Saurians, "want their seats back. Normally we'd stay, but it looks like we all have work to do."

He tells Satchell, "I say again, may the stars light your path."

Drawing her grateful gaze back to Booker, Nia sends him a fleeting smile. "True, Double-T can handle almost anything. But clearly our mild-mannered scientist's tougher than he seems. I want to ask him what if anything he heard about the Diamonds--before he became the last man standing. They were our best shot." She tries to keep her tone from sounding too bleak or discouraged, but it's getting harder. "Unless you think we should skip and go straight to this other ship. Maybe Rangin spoke with them already. It might be short-sighted not to get a report from him, just in case... I don't know." Her eye is hurting again and once more she presses the heel of her hand into her brow. "I can't think. Do you think it's worth nonchalantly going to see the scene of the crime? Surreptitiously?"

The doctor's words prevent--perhaps not prevent, but they certainly dissuade--Kylah from speaking further. She is alarmed that she might have said something that might have jeopardized things, as she cannot think what else might have caused him to be so curt, with a curiously grim smile.

She just steps back from the table, in case the Saurians are indeed in a rush to return to their apparent colleague, and waits for Dr. Mäkeläinen to determine what is best.

Satchell hears Dr. Mäkeläinen's response and says, with a wry grin, "Yeah, see that you don't remember my name to anyone, huh?" To Kylah she says, "If you want to pay our bill, I wouldn't say no. Thanks." She raises a hand for a waitress, who approaches at once.

The Saurians rise from their chairs and stand nearby, watchfully.

Graham can see that Rawlings has noticed this.

Kylah will pay anything remaining on the check. "Thank you for your time once again, Ms.--ma'am," she substitutes quickly with a sideways look at Dr. Mäkeläinen, now that she belatedly understands his meaning. But she hesitates before leaving. "Forgive me, one more question--Have you seen anyone from the Herrel'uhk crew here, today?"

"I think I did, yeah," she says, vaguely waving off to her left and farther back into the bar. "Thataway, I think." She says something to the Saurians, who return, weapons in hand, and sit down again, taking Onn's and Graham's just-vacated chairs.

A new band has taken the Black Sun's stage, two scruffy-looking Humans and an Andorian, each laden with electronic instruments. They begin playing very loud music which sounds like a busy day at an industrial scrap-metal yard.

Mäkeläinen waves to Rawlings that everything is OK and takes a couple of steps in his direction.

“That is certainly worth checking out,” he says to Kylah. “I suppose it means splitting up again— let's see how Lt. Onn prefers to proceed.

“I am still interested whether there be classified announcements on the local net: crew members wanted, looking for a courier, seeking passage, ship for sale, that sort of thing. We may find an additional lead or two. Perhaps you know how to access that through a communicator?”

Graham sighs and takes a deep breath. "No, you're thinking just fine, Nia...we should debrief Rangin. Hell, maybe the guy he killed was as big an asshole as him and the rest of the crew is fucking over the moon about it...now where the hell is he?"

He glances around - if he has line of sight to Rawlings he mouths "Rangin?"

Kylah nods her agreement but is so startled by one of the doctor's suggestions that, despite the worry and stress, a bubbling laugh escapes her. She covers her mouth to quiet down, but continues to look at Dr. Mäkeläinen in amusement.

"Forgive me, sir... the idea of simply buying a ship is both unexpected and clever." She continues smiling and shakes her head. "Some of Starfleet's ways have infected me after all--purchasing a solution has always been my first strategy for any problem."

Sobering--though her eyes are still bright with humor--she slips her phaser back onto her duty belt and moves to her communicator. "Yes, I can try to hop onto the net. The club does not have its own open access to the network, but perhaps... well, we can still use monits to solve this issue. Someone might lend us their credentials, or allow us to borrow whatever device they might use. Or perhaps they'll just perform the search for us. There is nothing illicit in searching for classifieds."

She, presumably followed by Dr. Mäkeläinen, walks closer to Lt. Onn and Lt. Graham. Of course Kylah's gaze shifts down to take a quick measure of Velir's expression and mood, but she returns to the two standing officers. "Excuse me, ma'am. Sir." (She does not think using basic titles such as these should cause any problem; she would use the formality even if they were not in Starfleet.)

Addressing them all, including Velir and Mr. Rawlings, she speaks without too much volume. "I believe you heard the name of the alternate ship. Mister--Velir told me he found other options too." She lifts a hand to gesture politely toward the doctor, encouraging him to explain his ideas. "What would you like us to do, ma'am?"

Nia gives Booker's shoulder a little bump with her own in mute gratitude for his support as always. When Dr. Mäkeläinen and Kylah show up, fortunately not having killed anyone else in the club, she listens to the latter's report. "Nothing we didn't hear," she says bluntly, but quickly amends her tone."Good work finding where that other crew might be. As far as the net options go..."

She looks quizzically at Booker. She doesn't see the harm, as long as they don't announce who they are, but Book is more likely to see any dangers there. "I suppose we can assign you two to check out theHerrel'uhk."But I think we all need to get up-to-date on the... emergency situation. The latest emergency situation," she adds darkly.

With a brief pat against Rawlings's back, Nia asks him to move slightly away so Booker can see the much smaller man behind him. To Rangin, she says, "We need a full account of what happened. And how far you got with any other ships, if you were able." Nia's focus returns to Booker. "You should probably handle anything else I forgot."

Kylah finds nothing of particular interest on the Ollos net, given your circumstances. Several ships are mentioned as being in orbit, most of which you've already heard of, but not all. None are listed as for sale.

Rangin, in a monotone and clearly uncomfortable in Graham's presence, repeats what he earlier told Kylah about his fatal encounter with the Four Little Diamonds crew. After you bring him up to date in turn, he says, "I learned about three other ships, any one of which may be our ticket out of here, ma'am."

Kylah is struck by how very... vulnerable Velir seems with everyone looking down at him with varying degrees of accusation and annoyance. She edges a little closer, then kneels into a crouch-squat by his chair, resting on her heels so she is roughly a few inches below his height.

There is no surreptitious way to hold his hand, so of course she does not do so. But her right side brushes lightly against his left hip and thigh, and she hopes that warmth will offer him some comfort.

"That is excellent news," she says softly, though looking up at Lt. Graham with some hope that he will recognize a fellow officer's discomfort. "You may be the only one to have learned something that could save us." She falls silent in deference toward her senior officers--which, for Kylah, is all of them, either in rank or length of service.

Dr. Mäkeläinen listens to Lt. Rangin's account impassively. "I don't know," he says finally. "What other names have we got? We know the Astral Queen, Dierdre, and Herrel'uhk are all at least headed in the right direction."

"I doubt it will come down to buying a ship," he says looking at Kylah, "or pretending to buy a ship, more like, if there are indeed any for sale, but any information or name on that board may prove a valuable lead. There might be something besides the regular freight traffic. We could even post there ourselves."

Graham has to tamp down a response to Kylah's encouragement of Rangin...found out some information versus killed someone, hm...

But he can't discount whatever Rangin has in fact learned. He keeps his tone level and professional. "OK, Mr. Rangin...can you rank those three in order of how promising you think each might be?"

Rangin thinks before carefully saying, "The Astral Queen, Dierdre and Herrel'uhk, that this Mendu lady told you about, aren't the three I know of. I've heard of the Astral Queen and from what little I know, she's a good ship. But the three I had mind, that I actually talked to members of their crews myself, are the Fevre Dream, a fast packet bound for York II; the Scheherazade, a freighter, headed for Idrean VII, and the Doregg, an Uwat transport, on her way to Uwat Prime. I have no particular preference for any of them, although the Doregg seemed to be the most promising, I'd say, from my conversation with her First Officer. I got the sense he, or his ship, could use the money." He sips his drink. "There are some other ships in orbit too, of course, but I don't think any of them are likely to be any use to us, under the circumstances."

Knowing none of the ships and not much about their destinations, Kylah has nothing to add. But reaching down, her right hand hidden beneath her coat, various legs and the shadowed darkness, she gently pats Velir's lower calf. Even tired and injured--even with the horror you've experienced--you come through for us.

She looks up at him without hiding the affection in her gaze. "Did any of them bring up issues with Starfleet?" Realizing it is likely not her place to ask such a question, she flicks an apologetic glance up to Lt. Graham before returning to Velir in silence.

Once Rangin concludes first the story of the fight, and then the information he's gathered, Nia makes a low rumbling noise deep in her throat. Sighing is beginning to be a luxury Nia can't afford.

"Thanks. Good job, Lieutenant. The ship intel, I mean. The rest sounds like self-defense to me. I'm sure any witness will back it up. I don't know how big this person is--was--but I doubt anyone'd buy that you're the type to instigate a fight. No offense."

She turns around too rapidly and her brain seems to lag behind for a couple of seconds before it rotates back into position. The wooziness causes her ears to ring and she wants to fall back onto the table for support. Shutting her eyes, she gets it together and shifts so both palms rest atop the table in front of her. She doubts anyone noticed, and continues to Rangin: "Borrow your tricorder? I've wanted a starmap all night. Day. Whatever."

When she's certain her stance is stable, she lifts a hand for the device. If he passes it over, she'll use the tricorder's starmap to check the relative distances and speed requirements of each of the destinations Rangin just listed. Normally she could've rattled off the locations of each one. Now, no way.

Nia keeps her eyes on the screen as she uses the controls, but speaks to address Booker and Rawlings. "Suggestions on how to proceed. Let me check on the distances before we decide which ship crew to follow up with. What I wanna know is: what do we do about him? Would it be a bad idea for you to make a kinda..." Nia lifts a shoulder. "...A quick visual survey of the club? Just to see if anyone's investigating or asking questions? If it looks like all's forgotten, we can rest a little easier."

Easier being a relative term. She's still a little dizzy, and longingly eyes the small case that holds this new Bilitrium-like substitute. She focuses on it for a second, then finds Dr. M. "How much more can I take today?" she murmurs. "And when?"

Dr. Mäkeläinen is not hyper-focused on Nia to the exclusion of all else, but his doctor's instincts should allow him to notice if she suddenly takes a turn for the worse. He answers her, "In the case is a week's supply, more or less. Doubling the dose will just waste it, and taking fractional doses to try to stretch it out is unlikely to be effective. If you need more today, take the full hypo, before bed or if necessary late in the evening."

Graham (somewhat reluctantly, but he keeps that to himself) nods acknowledgment that Rangin has found out potentially useful additional information. If it gets Nia home alive every damn thing about the guy will be worth it in the end...

Nia's question is tougher. He rubs his chin. "Well, the way I see it...our..." He gestures toward himself and Rawlings. "First responsibility is to conduct a Starfleet investigation. But we're not required to put people in danger...if we're in a burning building, or being chased by a mob, or there's a, ah, medical emergency...we can postpone any inquiry. Second is to cooperate with legitimate local authorities. Based on what we've seen so far, the Portmaster seems legit, but I don't think he cares who gets killed in here..."

He frowns. "My biggest worry would be people using anti-Starfleet sentiment to gin up a hankering for revenge...hence the mob mention..."

"All things considered, I think we watch our backs, keep our eyes and ears open. Ask questions is we're talking to someone we think we can trust. Except..."

He sighs. "It would be sketchy not to find out who the hell this guy was. Even one hundred percent assuming it was self-defense, the deceased's family if he had any ought to be know they can contact Starfleet...Shit."

He pauses and looks at Nia. "I think me and Mr. Kylah, whose dimplomacy chops are hopefully on point today, should try to get a statement from that other crewperson Rangin mentioned before we go." He sighs again. "While the rest of you get us all a ship."

Startled by Lt. Graham's suggestion, Kylah swiftly straightens to better meet his gaze. "I will do as ordered, sir, but..." She lowers her voice slightly and studiously avoids Lt. Onn. "...But thus far, my diplomacy... you saw how I ruined the attempt to gain assistance from the men from the Wendigo. And I believe I am fortunate that the Klingon singer did not have a bat'leth."

A heaviness seems to fall on Nia's shoulders with Mäkeläinen's answer, but her expression remains neutral with her tight nod. "Right. Thanks, Doc." Then she adds a smile, because really, he deserves a lot of praise for dealing with this disaster on his first Yorktown mission.

Booker's suggestions are, unsurprisingly, sound. "Yeah. Anti-Starfleet sentiment's high already, but the victim's--" Nia stops with a briefly pained look toward the xenobiologist sitting nearby. "Sorry, Rangin. I don't know what else to call him." She returns to Booker. "The victim's family's got a right to know. Dying on some lonely planet far from home is a pretty crappy ending."

Nia regrets her words again and drops her awkward gaze to some scrunched napkin on the floor. Damn it. Her boots are too big to keep jamming her foot in her mouth like this. Forcing herself to again face her second-in-command, she mouths a silent I'm sorry, Book. If she's insensitively brought back thoughts of his wife's death--his first wife's death--Nia would want to sink through the grubby floor.

"Um... so yeah, maybe you two can do some recon with that friend, and maybe speak to their ship's captain, too? She'd probably be the best person to deliver any news. Guess what I'm not sure of is, is it safe for Rangin to move around in the club checking out other ships with me and the Doc, or should we keep him out of sight here, guarded by Rawlings."

She focuses on Rawlings, and as she does she hears Kylah murmuring something to Booker. But aside from what Nia swears sounded like the word "Klingon," it's not of interest to her. "What do you think, T?"

Dr. Mäkeläinen mentions to Lt. Graham, "I looked for the fallen gome earlier, to see if there was anything I could do to help, but did not spot any trace of him or his friend on my way back here. They neatened things up quick."

Nia scowls at the table for a moment, then scoffs when the obvious hits her. Mäkeläinen even mentioned it earlier. Placing a hand on her hip, Nia twists her mouth into a dark smile.

"We already know how they clean--the same way I do: toss the unwanted stuff where it can't be seen. Outta sight, outta mind." She raises her eyebrow at Graham. "Maybe you and Kylah ought to check the club's official corpse repository outside?"

Out of sight of the others, Rangin squeezes Kylah's hand but says nothing. Her psi tells her quite clearly that he's grateful for her support and encouragement. He says aloud, "I didn't mention Starfleet, and none of the three said anything about it."

He hands his tricorder to Onn with a weary smile. Keeping it below the table and also out of sight, she is able to access the regional starmap in its databank and sees that York II, destination of the Fevre Dream, is about two weeks away on a direct course. Idrean VII, to which the freighter Scheherazade is heading, is about nine days away. Uwat Prime, the Doregg's destination, is at least a month away, but Cavinre would be not far at all off its course, and reachable, she thinks, in maybe four or five days from here.

Graham and Kylah, after looking around and discreetly inquiring, are unable to locate anyone from the Four Little Diamonds still in the bar. They, and you, notice no one either staring at you or hunting for Rangin.

Nia reads the screen with her mask back on. She relates the information along with her journey estimates, then passes the tricorder back to Rangin. Other than thanking him, she makes no further comment.

"If there is nothing outside, nor inside, they might have beamed out, dead body included, or cleared out some other way," Dr. Mäkeläinen points out. "I don't like the idea of leaving it either, any more than with the other corpses we've encountered. We still have business with the Port Authority; that's a chance to make sure they at least let the victims' kith know."

After hearing from Nia, he mutters, "Six names." He continues, "So far with these smaller ships, the officers seem remarkably transigent once credits come into the picture. It is only Starfleet's name which is anathema at the moment.

"Two weeks, or even nine days, is beyond our time frame, though. We need to focus on the options where we are at Cavinre in under a week."

Graham rubs his head. "Shit...well, in a place like this...making bodies disappear seems like a core competency," he grunts.

Along with seeking out the rest of the crew, along with Kylah, he says "All right, doc's got the right idea. We aim for the fastest trip we can. We, uh, I... file--in person or via subspace--report with the local authorities."

The Fevre Dream will take too long in getting you to or near Cavinre, it becomes apparent, and probably likewise the Scheherazade.

In time you find yourselves sitting down at a table, in a somewhat quieter section of the Black Sun, with Jol, First Officer of the Uwat transport Doregg Ganiellej vu Felennek duj Legelvekkan na heid Jovel, or The Glorious and Immutable Legacy of the Empress Doregg, which is simply and mercifully known, for short, as the Doregg. Jol, like others of his kind, looks much like a horned lizard of Earth, but is much bigger, being almost Kylah's height, and bipedal. The reptilioid looks at you with dark, featureless eyes and speaks through a small vocoder clipped to his leathery equipment harness (he wears no clothes over his spiked and mottled carapace).

He says in a raspy voice, "Looking for a ship, I understand? I may be able to help you."


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horned_lizard

He is not a specialist xenobiologist, but the reptilious forms appear to be analogous enough to more familiar lizards that Dr. Mäkeläinen is sure that the life support on their ship should be adequate for humanoids (no help with the distress Lt. Onn is already experiencing, though), plus there is the fact that they seem all right here in the bar. He knows that, like Onn, they are ectothermic, so he is surprised that they are going around without clothing in this weather, but that is their business.

Nia is semi-surprised to see another race that seems in the same classification as her own, and like the doctor (though of course without knowledge of his thoughts) she's curious about how the Uwat maintain their thermal temperature when not in their ideal climate. Possibly they have developed some secondary vein system to carry heated fluid or--

Aware that she's indulging curiosity that doesn't need to be sated now, she nods to the Doregg's First Officer. "Yes, we hope to be able to offer a fair trade. We'd like transport for me and my friends--six in total--to the Cavinre system. I've been led to understand that your course isn't far from that direction and this wouldn't pose a problem." She lifts her empty hands. "We haven't much baggage to stow and--"

Her throat seizes up and she stops to prevent herself from a coughing jag. The last thing she wants is to give the impression they'd be bringing some illness on board. "Sorry, dry throat," Nia murmurs carelessly. "--Anyway, we'd only need the barest of accommodations. Would you able to take us along?" Nia glances quickly at Mäkeläinen and Booker before returning to Jol. "As for us, we'd hope to leave the sooner the better. We have some business in the system that's time sensitive. Of course we'd pay for the speed and inconvenience."

She sits back a few millimeters, clearing her throat as silently as she can and gesturing to the men on either side of her. "Booker? Mäkeläinen? Have I left anything out?"

All six of the Yorktown crew on Ollos are now gathered around the Uwat officer.

He rasps, "Cavinre? Not right on the way for us, but not too far off it, either. That seems possible. Six of you? Yes. We have two other parties aboard already, but I think we could find room for you. How much could you pay?"

Kylah listens intently to all this, having seated herself between the doctor and Lt. Graham. She inhales as if about to speak, but Lt. Onn seems to guess her intent and shoots across a look as cutting as a phaser beam. Closing her parted lips at once, Kylah exhales in frustration. After a moment of thought she leans over to Lt. Graham with a tentative tap on his forearm.

"I understand you must negotiate, sir," she whispers into his ear. "But... know I will pay whatever is needed if it helps her."

Graham is surprised by Kylah's touch--and words...

He can't help but half turn toward her.

Me too, he thinks - with the caveat that he's not at all sure he could come up with the sums required regardless of good intention.

He doesn't know enough about Elas or Kylah to know whether or not she's expressing mostly good intentions or a healthy dose of access to wealth...he actually has no trouble believing she can back up good intentions with the latter.

"Thank you," he whispers.

Clearing his throat, he says "word is 10,000 monits per is the going rate. We'll match plus 20 percent if we get there quick."

First Officer Jol makes what Graham interprets as a dismissive gesture. "Monits! Only good here. No, thanks, no no. Uwat nugrasii are best, but Federation credits will do fine. You are Federation people, yes? So. Let's say... 15,000 credits each, and we get you within shuttle range of Cavinre in three days."

Graham knows when he's being taken for a ride, in more ways than one; he also doesn't have that many credits, even after the most recent funds transfer from the Yorktown. After about ten minutes of haggling, he gets Jol down to 12,500 credits each, with 8,500 down and the balance due upon upon debarking for Cavinre.

Jol seems pleased. He bangs the table with one spiky, six-fingered fist and says, "Done and done. So. You have your baggage? Or can get it soon? Good." He looks at a small, oddly-shaped chrono hanging from his equipment harness. "Shuttle will lift in 40 minutes. Docking Bay 94 at the starport, not far from here. Don't be late." He gets up to go.