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

"Power." Collins repeats distractedly. Why did I start this game? I have no idea what's going on. She moves a pawn, it produces no advantage.

"Well, I'm sure there will be plenty of questions asked given our reports into it."

Rangin watches the next couple of moves played out. "You don't play much chess, do you?", he says moving a bishop into an attacking position. "I wouldn't worry, Dr T'Var still beats me like a novice most days and as for your chief, once was enough. So, which games do you prefer?"

"Hmmm?" Collins looks at Rangin, then at the chess board. "I'm sorry, I'm usually not this inept. I like the old board games from the late twentieth, early twenty first centuries on Earth. Particularly ones that involve trading and territory conquering. Have you ever heard of 'Settlers of Catan'?" Collins tips her king over, conceding the game. Before either Rangin or Pourtash can respond to her question, she gets up from the table. "Gentlemen, please excuse me. There is something I must see to before the mission." She leaves the rec room and walks hurriedly to her quarters.

"Do you feel as if you are truly unable to perform your duties on this mission?" T'Var asks. "It would be unwise to place yourself -- or your crewmates -- in danger."

T'Var pauses a moment, then continues. "Which crew members are causing you concern, Kylah?"

With a quick shake of her head, Kylah backs away from T'Var as if the doctor has just aimed a phaser at her. "No, no, I do not mean--I do not feel I cannot perform my duties on the mission!" Her mind reels at the thought of being removed from the mission--the shame and disgrace would haunt her, and what would it do to her reputation on the ship? What if Ferguson were to hear of this? No, she cannot countenance such a possibility. "I just worry that I will not be at my best. That I will be distracted. I want to better control my feelings, just as you promised."

Kylah turns away, still hugging herself. "As for the crew... You know my feelings about Collins. I will do my job and follow her orders, but I cannot trust her. Indeed I believe that she should be the one whose ability to perform without distraction is dubious. Certainly she displayed questionable judgment throughout the Sakathian mission--do you remember her putting Waite at the front while we were escaping through the station, while I had to be the one who suggested someone with actual fighting experience should be placed there instead? It should not be an Ensign's role to provide better strategy than a commander! And then that vile order to handcuff Porr with his dead wife..." Kylah tightens her lips, swallows and continues. " But as I said, she has been put in command and I will do my duties as ordered--if they are rational and do not put us in jeopardy. If the Captain put her in charge, so it must be."

Then her thoughts turn elsewhere. "There are... far more personal reasons I dread serving with other crew members. One of them likely thinks the worst of me, and the other... the other I fear his finding out what this other man knows. Or thinks he knows." Kylah realizes her words probably seem jumbled and insensible, and she tries to clarify.

"This morning there was a confrontation between me and someone I barely know, someone who has shown hostility toward me. I sought an explanation. As a result, this--this stranger maligned me in public by falsely accused me of--harassment." Her face burns at the memory. "He claimed I was demanding sex from him, and implied I had done so before, numerous times. And he did so loudly, purposely. Mr. Graham overheard, as did some others, and there is no way to defend myself because the truth is known only to myself. I am certain this rumor will spread, either through one of the witnesses or this liar himself. As for the mission, I would hope Graham is professional and will not share this rumor with others, especially someone whose opinion matters very much..." She flushes again, not wanting to bring Rangin into this discussion. "But I do not know him well enough. And I hate that I must trust someone I do not know. I hate it!"

She sinks down into a chair, covering her eyes. "I apologize, Doctor. This has been a long day, first facing this man, then his lie, and now waiting for news of my alleged behavior to spread as it inevitably will. And I can only imagine how I must seem, even to you. But I know I can pull myself together if I just..." Kylah looks up hopefully at the doctor. "Please, is there not anything you can do, some meditation you can teach me, to calm myself?"

Rangin looks blankly at Pourtash, "Did I miss something?"

He shrugs and leans back. "Come on Faraz, I've been out of the loop for a while. What's the latest gossip on board?"

Graham forces himself to look at the glasses rather than stare slack-jawed at Bennett and pours a respectable but not outlandish amount into each. "Fun? You must not have gotten the memo yet. Senior officers aren't supposed to have fun--I mean, look at Vargas."

He slides one glass to Bennett and raises the other. "A toast then: to good news, to promotions, and to Cecilia"--Graham mumbles something incomprehensible beginning with an "e" sound--"Bennett getting more of both--as she well deserves!"

Pourtash looks curiously after Collins. "That was a little odd. I wonder what's up with her?" He looks into the distance thoughtfully and says, "Well, Lt. Thalen is your best bet for shipboard scuttlebutt. I can't vouch for the accuracy of this, but I hear Vargas has asked for a transfer to another ship, and that Fujishiro is going to be taken back to her family on Earth."

Bennett raises her own glass with a smile and replies, "And here's to a fine Security officer who deserves no less himself." As he asked, and over a glass or two more of his excellent whiskey, she tells Graham a bit about her background. She was born and raised in a large family on a farm in rural Hertfordshire. She hiked with a childhood friend across quite a bit of Mars before attending Eton and then Starfleet Academy ("My dad, who's a mad stellar cartographer, was always taking me out at night to look up at the stars, so I was very keen on astronomy even when I was a little girl. But I wanted to go to the stars, not just study them, and my Fleet aptitude tests for navigation were pretty good," she says with characteristic British understatement, "so that's how I ended up here"). After graduating from the Academy near the top of her class, she served aboard the Mandela and the Kyoto ("Both good ships, but nothing like this") before being assigned to the Yorktown almost two years ago. She enjoys her work and would like to command her own ship ("A small one, maybe a scoutship - fewer headaches, more flexibility, don't you think?") someday.

Rangin's voice drops quietly. "Really? Collins is Vargas's second. If he leaves, will she take over? Is she ready to take over or would they get someone else in. Wonder if that's why she's leading the next away mission. To prove herself."

Rangin ponders the possibilities of Collins' success or failure on the next mission.

"Wonder if she knows..." he leaves the question hanging. "Anyway cheers Faraz, I'm going to grab some food. If you want a game of anything, I'll probably be back in an hour or so, unless something crops up."

In her quarters, Collins first checks to be sure that Kylah is not there. Satisfied, she pulls a duffle out of her wardrobe and digs into it. She pulls out a small metal box secured with a combination lock. She takes it into the head and closes the door. After filling a glass with water, she turns the tumblers slowly, trying to decide if she really wants to do this. From inside the box, she removes a vial of iridescent liquid. Two drops. Just two. That should hold me until after the mission. She puts three drops into the water Three. Just to be sure. Before drinking, she replaces the vial and locks the box. She downs it like a shot of tequila, the buries the box back in her duffle, shoves that to the back of her wardrobe, and lies down on her bunk. She closes her eyes and waits for the wave to wash over her.

T'Var sighs. "We honestly do not have enough time to fully explore the meditation possibilities," she tells Kylah. "And I am most concerned with your current emotional state."

The doctor pauses a moment. "I could administer certain medications to calm you and help you focus." T'Var frowns. "However, I am not sure this treatment would allow you to perform your duties without incident during our upcoming mission."

Panic starts to fill Kylah's body with adrenaline and she desperately tries to keep herself from fleeing. "I will do anything, Dr. T'Var. Please. I am torn, yes, but--but as I said, it has been a terrible day. You cannot understand because you have spent years and years on maintaining control, but surely even you must know that some days are worse than others. Even just telling someone what happened this morning, someone who I hope believes me, has been a relief. I will be better tomorrow, after I have slept, I promise! Please give me whatever medication you think best. It will serve its purpose, I am sure."

She stands up, clutching her hands together tightly, and speaks as quietly and calmy as possible. "I beg you, Dr. T'Var, do not keep me from this mission. If I show any signs of problems you may send me back to the ship."

Graham finds himself lost in Bennett’s story—and voice. He remembers a discussion like this, a long time ago, with a beautiful, brilliant young Englishwoman—who also wanted to go to the stars. That evokes a bittersweet memory—but for a change—at this moment, the sweet beginning of the story feels more present that its bitter end.

“A small ship…fewer headaches for sure.” He smiles a little. “Smaller guns though, remember that…although you don’t seem like the type whose ego is wound up with having the biggest phaser banks.”

He finishes the last sip of his drink. “But I’m sure you’ll have the pick of the fleet,” he says, lowering his glass while almost unconsciously starting to extend his left hand across the table toward Bennett.

As he does so, he becomes keenly aware of the scars on his hands: right, knife wound from a classic shore leave bar brawl he and the team broke up. Embarrassing, he remembers: if Faisal hadn’t had my back that scar might be someplace a lot more serious. Left: bite from some sort of nasty badger-like thing on an arid planet. They had stunned hundreds of the little bastards pouring out of very hard-to-see holes in the ground before the landing team was evacced.

They sharply remind him of his age and his history: get real Booker, she’s been very nice but she certainly has better things to do then hang around with the likes of you. He freezes his hand. “I…ah… I’m sure I’ve wasted enough of your time, I mean, you must have people who you really want to celebrate with.”

"OK, see you around," Pourtash says with a wave as Rangin leaves.

It's not long before a mind-blowing wave of pleasure sweeps over Collins. After being introduced to "Elsewhere" by friends at a party five years ago, she's tried to come to terms with her addiction to the drug, a synthetic hallucinogen originally developed by the Tellarites. She's been able to resist the craving for months, but tonight it was finally too much for her. She wonders for a moment what it might to do to her baby, then closes her eyes and simply goes along for the ride, trembling from time to time as the room seems to melt and wildly reform around her, revealing visions unlike any she's ever had. A low moan escapes her lips as the bed swallows her up, plunging her into some newly surreal tunnel of her unleashed and addled imagination.

Bennett looks down at her glass and says quietly, "I've already told a couple of people about the promotion, and I suspect my bunkmate T'Var will be just about as effusive as a Vulcan can be. But I assure you, Booker... I don't consider any time spent with you to be wasted, and I can't think of a better place to be right now." She looks up and meets his eye.

"A mild tranquilizer should help you maintain your focus," T'Var assures Kylah. "However, it will not control the emotional turmoil you seem to be experiencing."

The doctor lets out another sigh. "If at any time during this mission you become a liability, I will immediately order you returned to the ship."

T'Var places her hands on Kylah's shoulders. "Do I make myself clear, Ensign?"

As much as Kylah wanted more comfort and assurance from the doctor, she will not reveal her disappointment. Of course comfort and assurance always come at a price, just like the relief of revealing her secrets; she knows that now. One would have thought she'd learned this long ago, but apparently this lesson is one she must keep repeating.

So she does her best to prevent her reaction to T'Var's words from showing on her face, although if the Vulcan is using her touch telepathy on her now there's no way to hide just how much T'Var has just hurt her. "Yes, doctor," she says quietly. "Thank you."

While she waits for T'Var to give her either a hypospray or some sort of pills--Kylah's not sure what T'Var meant by tranquilizer--she keeps herself very still. Liability. Liability. If the doctor had looked through the dictionary she could not have come up with a more damning word to use. Her parents used it all her life. First behind her back before her siblings were born and she overheard Mother and Father arguing over the possibility of her adoptive nature causing a scandal if it were discovered, and then to her face when they warned her about keeping her empathic abilities a secret. And of course Aldaan used it specifically to create enough fear that put her under his thumb in the first place, that day when he called her to his chambers--which only a week earlier belonged to her parents--when she was twelve and still grieving her mother and father after their accident.

"Now then, my dear Kylah. You are the eldest daughter of your House, even if not a blood member, and thus I will be honest with you. If plans for your cousin's marriage turn out as we hope, you know we will need a new Dohlman. Your brother is very likely to be chosen, of course, but there are others among your cousins who may also be in contention. This family must remain without blemish if you wish to see Tel rise to the position he deserves. Assuming you do wish that?"

"More than anything, uncle."

"Mmm. There is the matter of your... nature. Yes, I am aware of it, so do not look so shocked--or attempt a denial. Your parents told me of this mutation you possess before they died, knowing I would be in charge of your future should anything happen to them." Aldaan beckons her closer and, when she moves dutifully toward him, he places a hand on her cheek. "Do not be afraid that I will give away your secret. To the contrary, I will keep it just as they did. I need hardly tell you that such a deformity makes you a liability to Tel's chances, to our House as a whole. We can ill afford such a scandal." His thumb caresses her cheek while his gaze softens slightly. "Who would think to look at such beauty that others would call you a witch? "

"But you know I am not--"

"Of course you are not, my dear Kylah. But others are not so enlightened as I. Or know you as well as I do, much less feel toward you... but of course, you must already know how I feel. Your... what shall I call them... skills have likely told you?"

Kylah wants to squirm away from him but just stares blankly at his face. "I know."

"Ah, all men will be vulnerable before you, not just before your charms but thanks to those eyes that see into our hearts. One day soon you will be a dangerous jewel indeed, Kylah. Well, there are some years yet before you are of an age for me to openly declare my suit. But as to your deformity... you do realize that in addition to being a liability, it can be an asset, do you not? No? Astonishing. But then, it does please me that your parents have kept you so naive and innocent of the power you possess. Still, as your Guardian I may now guide you as I see fit. And, my dear one, you must learn that you can use your strange ability for Elas's benefit--for your House's benefit. You do wish to prove yourself a true daughter of your House, do you not?"

"It is all I have ever wished."

He smiles and brushes her hair back. Every touch feels deliberate, planned. And yet... not entirely unwelcome, much to her discomfort. Her parents were not demonstrative and Kylah is torn between yearning for such closeness and feeling awkward that Aldaan is the man providing it. "I know it is. It is a pity that your late parents did not see your full value as I do. But they were sometimes unworldly. No, I do not insult them, I merely state the truth. Which is why we will work so well together, little one. Your years of being solely a shame, solely a liability, can at last be at an end. But only with my help. Do you vow to let me guide you, teach you how to serve your House?"

She nods and he again tells her how much she pleases him, that she is an unpolished gem he will refine and treasure, and finally, before bidding her goodnight, folds her in his arms. And again she feels that longing, that discomfort. Especially since he doesn't let go for a long time.

Kylah waits for T'Var. When the medication is dispensed she again thanks T'Var and is quick to leave. She's done too much crying today and does not do so now, but she wants nothing more than to crawl under the covers and find the oblivion of sleep. When she reaches her quarters, she closes her eyes before entering and reminds herself that she is strong and will not fail the doctor, will not fail this mission, just as she has never failed Aldaan.

She is a true daughter of her House.

Rangin happily wanders out of Rec Room 3 to the Mess Hall to grab some food.

If he sees Lt Thalen and can get some of the latest news out of him, he will, otherwise he will heading back to the Rec Room for a couple more games before turning in for the night.

When Kylah enters her quarters she's surprised to find Collins already there, asleep. Probably the other woman wished to get an early night for the mission tomorrow. Still, Kylah would have thought Collins would spend the time researching or planning, or even with her lover, considering they don't know how long the mission will last. Kylah frowns as she notices that the nearer she walks to the bed, the more uncomfortable and strangely lightheaded she feels. Despite her private promise not to breach others' privacy, Kylah rationalizes that this is the mission commander. If there's anything wrong she has a right to know.

When she focuses outward on Collins, almost immediately Kylah gasps. She senses reckless abandon and complete surrender, wild chaos and blissful control, all at once.

Overwhelmed, Kylah quickly backs away to her own side of the room, hoping to clear herself of these emotions bleeding out from her unconscious roommate. Perhaps Collins's pregnancy--whether physical aspects such as hormones or emotional ones such as her obvious ambivalence--is causing these strange, surreal feelings within her dreams.

With an exhale, Kylah sinks into her desk chair near her terminal. Pregnancy is something she's never much contemplated. Her tutor made it clear that hybrids--cross species breeds, such as herself--are likely infertile. Not that this has ever been an issue, but right now, looking at Collins, she finds herself grateful. If such nightmares are what one must endure when pregnant, she's glad this is something she'll likely never experience herself.

She pushes away all thoughts of this, as well as everything that happened today and, instead of going to sleep as she so desires, focuses on tomorrow's mission. She will research everything she can about this Wrigley spa, its history, who's behind it, the treatments one can expect there, any guests who've stayed and shared their experience, and anything else that turns up. On the last mission they were all caught unaware by many aspects of Sakathian custom and behavior. Kylah does not want that to happen again.

Before she begins her research she checks her messages. Then she will spend as much time immersing herself in the spa's background and Omicron Ceti III history as possible before, finally, crawling into bed.

Graham is frozen for a moment, holding Bennett’s gaze. Oh hell… I haven’t done this in ten years, he realizes—actually stared into a woman’s eyes. There were women, to be sure: but he had gravitated toward those who had little interest in his eyes, or for that matter, his name. Not that I would have had much luck pursuing a different sort of…relationship… as a moody drunk, he thinks.

His mouth feels as dry as the planet on which they had found those damn swarming badger things. He swallows and softly clears his throat. “I…I’m on the landing party tomorrow morning. Maybe when I get back we could have dinner--without Admirals and a cast of thousands this time. Ah, food probably won’t be as good…” he smiles a little. “But…if you’re not already commanding your own ship by then…or being a lieutenant hasn’t gone to your head, and you couldn’t possibly be seen with an enlisted man.”

He looks at his hand—his old, ugly, scarred hand. There was some irony—the creature had locked onto it, so rather than try to stun it he’d stomped on its head until its skull had cracked and its jaws had released. And the xenobiologist on the landing party had totally lit into him for that as soon as they made it back to the ship. Maybe that guy was related to Kylah, he thinks.

Graham lifts his hand and extends it, gingerly, palm up toward Bennett. “If it’s not too…um, forward. Or too..ah… stupid a thing to offer…perhaps I could walk you back to your quarters?”

Kylah also realizes that Collins is still in her uniform and lying on top of her bunk's covers, which is unusual, and that all of the lights are still on in the cabin. Quite odd, if the Security officer really had turned in for the night. Kylah looks into the Omicron Ceti III resort and Starfleet research station on the Library Computer as thoroughly as she can, but it's not long before she's reading over pretty much the same stuff she'd already heard at the mission briefing that afternoon.

Rangin doesn't see Lt. Thalen anywhere; someone suggests that he might be on a date. The xenobiologist plays a few more games and gets to bed at a decent hour.

After just the slightest pause, Bennett blushes and puts her hand in Graham's. "It's a little forward, I suppose, but it's not stupid, not at all." In the corridor, she takes his arm, and they walk slowly, in no hurry at all, to her quarters. Outside her door she says, "Thank you, Booker, for the drinks. I'd be glad to have dinner when you return. I hope your mission goes well - and keep an eye on T'Var for me, won't you?" She leans up and gives him a kiss on his cheek. "Good night." The door opens and closes, and she is gone before he thinks to say anything - or even feels capable of it.

T'Var awaits Bennett inside, and the young Englishwoman tells her all about the promotion, but says nothing about Graham.

The corridor lights have long since dimmed and shipboard night has fallen on the Yorktown. You each go to bed. The ship races on.

"Congratulations," T'Var says. "And well deserved."

Rangin wakes up a in a good mood. Been a good relaxing few days and now a new away mission coming right up.

He has a load of notes on where they are going and what they will be doing and decides to grab an early breakfast before finding out if they are going to be taking a shuttle or transporting down to the planet. Hopefully the former and he wonders if they will be staying there in guest quarters or returning to the Yorktown each night. It's going to take a several days at least to fully inspect both the station and the spa and the Vice Admiral is going to want his stay to be long and luxurious.

For a brief moment, Rangin wonders how everyone else is doing, but considers that they are all good Starfleet officers. They should be fine.

Collins opens her eyes, and immediately closes them. She opens them again, this time more slowly, and realizes she slept in her uniform. Not the first time. Won't be the last.
She sits on the side of the bed and looks at the chronometer. 0725. Good. Time for a shower and some coffee. She moves slowly and quietly, even though she didn't bother to check if her roommate was awake yet. She undresses and gets into the shower. In the middle of washing herself, she stops, overtaken by nausea. She bends over facing the drain, and vomits. She stands, takes a deep breath, then bends over and vomits again. This goes on a few more minutes. Collins stays in the shower until she's sure the nausea has passed, then gets dressed and heads to the mess for breakfast, her datapad in her hand.

Kylah had a very realistic dream overnight.

She is on the Bridge of the Yorktown, which, she can see, has been in battle and is badly damaged. Debris is scattered about the Bridge, several consoles including Communications are in ruins, and the overhead lights are out. Red emergency lights cast a dim glow over the room, barely cutting through the smoky haze. The Red Alert klaxon is sounding loudly. Something must be wrong with artificial gravity, as the deck is tilting to starboard perhaps seven degrees. There is a stench of burned flesh in the air.

The Captain is leaning heavily upon her command chair, bleeding from a bad cut on her left temple. Kylah knows, with some dream-logic she cannot understand, that Cmdr. Vargas has been killed somewhere belowdecks. Science Officer Roble’s uniform is singed and dirty, but he seems unharmed. Collins is seated at the Helm, the full stripe of a lieutenant on her soot-stained red uniform’s sleeves. No one is at Navigation. Kylah is standing nearby, but no one else is on the Bridge - no one alive, at least. She sees at least five corpses in Starfleet uniform strewn about the Bridge, but cannot tell who they are.

On the cracked viewscreen, badly distorted by static, a Klingon battlecruiser, also damaged, is slowly turning towards them. Kylah somehow knows that two others, fatally damaged or destroyed, are nearby.

“Captain….” Roble says.

“You know we have to do it, Abdi,” Singh says wearily, wiping blood away from her head with the back of her hand. “We’re out of options… and out of time." The ship has lost phasers and torpedoes, and the shields are down for good, but lifepods and shuttles are away - at least most of them, Kylah knows. Singh continues, "They’re going to send boarding parties any minute now.” She takes a deep breath and punches a button on her chair arm. “Computer, voiceprint identification. Identify Singh, Capt. Sundri P., Commanding Officer, USS Yorktown.”

The computer’s voice is distorted but still understandable. “Identification confirmed.”

Singh looks straight at Roble and says, “This is a self-destruct authorization. Initiate destruct sequence. Command authorization alpha gamma two five. Codeword Saber. Enable.”

The computer repeats, “Command authorization alpha gamma two five. Codeword Saber. Confirmed.”

Roble’s shoulders slump. He clears his throat and says, “Computer, identify Roble, Lt. Cmdr. Abdi, Science Officer and Acting First Officer.” Kylah can barely hear him over the klaxon.

“Identification confirmed.”

After a long pause he says, “I… concur with the self-destruct order. Command authorization theta theta eight nine. Codeword Halberd. Enable.”

“Command authorization theta theta eight nine. Codeword Halberd. Confirmed.”

The Captain says quietly, “Mr. Collins?”

Collins's pregnancy is plainly evident, and Kylah can see that her cabinmate is as terrified as she is. But the young woman’s voice shakes only a little as she turns towards Singh and says, “Computer, identify Collins, Lt. Jeremi, Acting Chief of Security... and Acting Second Officer.”

“Identification confirmed.”

She coughs and then says firmly, “I concur with the self-destruct order. Command authorization gamma omicron nine six. Codeword Glaive. Enable.”

By all the gods, Kylah thinks. She's willing to kill herself... and her child.

“Command authorization gamma omicron nine six. Codeword Glaive. Confirmed."

The Captain says, "Code zero zero zero destruct zero. Enable."

"Code zero zero zero destruct zero. Confirmed. Self-destruct authorization sequence complete. Please specify time to self-destruct.”

Roble says something to Singh which Kylah can’t hear over the klaxon. The Captain nods, her face a mask of stone, and says, “Begin an audible countdown. Self-destruct in twenty seconds, mark.” She eases herself into the big chair, wincing in pain as she does so.

“Acknowledged. Self-destruct countdown begins. Twenty... nineteen... eighteen….”

Roble steps closer to the Captain. She takes his hand and grasps it tightly.

Kylah suddenly notices that one of the bodies is Ferguson's.

She awakens with a poorly-stifled scream.

Kylah has been up since dawn--or what would be dawn, if they were on a planet. She hasn't been back to sleep since that horrifying dream.

When she first woke and finally calmed herself from the terrifying visions she'd dreamt, she looked around to remind herself of how false they were. The ship is calm, everything is as it should be. She noticed Collins still in a deep sleep, still in her clothes, and still above the covers. At the time, a flash of concern mingled with envy. It would be nice to be able to fall asleep so quickly one didn't even have time to undress, and certainly to sleep so soundly without waking.

At least waking early gave her one benefit: it enabled her to get to Sickbay and receive her daily shot, as prescribed by T'Var. Avoiding having anyone seeing her--apart from the night watch--was priority number one.

Now she's in the Mess, sitting alone and feeling conspicuous. The hypospray seemed to help steady her nerves somewhat. But still she keeps her eyes on her hot chocolate as if looking for answers in the drink's sweet, warm comfort. The nightmare haunts her. Just a dream. An illusion. You know why you dreamt it.

No more thoughts of dreams now. She pushes them aside. The mission gives her something to look forward to, and she wishes they'd arrive early.

Then the possibility of beaming down to the planet reminds her yet again of what happened last time, of Ferguson. His body... Kylah remembers feeling absolutely nothing when she saw his corpse in the dream. Is she such a monster that her subconscious wants him dead? Stop. It was nothing! A nightmare, that is all!

She shudders and wraps her hands around the warm mug. Most likely he will not be at the transporter controls, thank goodness, but the jolt of concern, together with the gnawing guilt from the nightmare, fills her with dread nonetheless. So much for the hypospray. She knew it wouldn't be a cure-all, but still she'd hoped...

Every now and then she glances up, looking for Graham. She has an agenda today and she plans on sticking to it.

In the Mess, Collins grabs some oatmeal and some coffee, nods greeting to those she passes, and sits at a table near, but not too close to, Kylah.
"Good morning, Ensign. Ready for the mission?" Collins asks her roommate.

It takes a few seconds for Kylah to respond, mainly because at first she didn't fully realize anyone was talking to her. And when she looks up and sees Collins, her eyes widen in surprise. This might be one of the first times her roommate has addressed her in a casual setting.

"Yes, Lieutenant, very much so," Kylah says carefully. Her fingers tighten against the mug and she tries to think of something to say in return. And you, are you ready for the mission this time? is clearly a poor choice, although the caustic question is the first thing that springs to mind.

Hastily Kylah sticks to something banal. "I tried not to wake you when I came in last night. I spent some time performing research on the spa and the planet's history, and hope I did not disturb you by keeping the lights on so long, or by leaving early this morning." She sighs and glances down at the mug, adding sincerely: "I do envy your ability to sleep so soundly."

Collins smirks inwardly. "Yes," she answers "I guess I was more exhausted than I'd thought. I just stretched out for a while to think about the mission," she lies, "the next thing I knew it was morning." She smiles at Kylah, then turns her attention to her datapad and reviews the mission briefing.

Graham sleep like a rock: same as always, he thinks, some get people nervous, but for me, a mission clears my head. The usual positive effect of having a clear, short-term purpose is complicated, however, by thoughts of Bennett. It’s nothing yet, he reminds himself. Probably won’t become anything either, he muses, if she comes to her senses. But what if it does become something? What if things come down to choosing between her and things that I need to do?

He’s oddly comforted again by the clarity in his mind: she’s gorgeous, but before it were to become anything, she would need to know she’d be getting involved with someone who has debts that need to be paid. He’s as resigned to this as he was resigned to the course of action got him demoted—and almost killed—a few years ago.

He showers and dresses quickly. The network of scars crisscrossing his torso also helps him focus. Every one represents is a time I was there when I was needed. And today’s list is enough to keep his mind off the consequences of the one time he wasn’t. Given Bennett’s request, he feels the need to keep an eye on T’Var—despite the fact that there’s still something about her that makes him suspect she’ll be able to do just fine on her own. And if anything his interaction with Kylah makes him more committed to figuring out what’s up with this Ferguson character—scumbag, he thinks. Something bad has happened to her, he’s convinced. And somebody needs to put a stop to it.

His unusual equanimity is only shaken briefly as he remembers the message he sent to his daughter. Someday she’s going to reply, he thinks, and then I don’t know what the hell I’ll do.

He has that same feeling as the door to the mess swooshes open: Kylah and Collins are the first people he notices, sitting near each other. Awkward to avoid, but he’s not sure what in the name of god he can or should say to Kylah at this point. He stands in the doorway a moment, wondering what to do.

Having being visually dismissed by Collins--not unusual for the senior officer, as she rarely makes any attempt to continue conversations past the obligatory niceties--Kylah has again focused on her cooling drink while keeping her peripheral vision on the various doors to the Mess.

At last one of the figures entering the room turns out to be Ensign Graham. Kylah nearly spills her hot chocolate in her haste to get to her feet. She moves purposely toward the security officer, her face an emotionless mask. The thought occurs to her, as she nears Graham, that she wishes T'Var were around to witness this. But she hasn't seen the doctor in the Mess.

She reaches Graham, who seems to have noticed her. Somehow he seems taller and more intimidating than she remembered, but that may just be her mind playing tricks.

"Pardon me, Ensign Graham," she says quietly. Her voice is flat and she can't seem to invest any more energy into it. Kylah also finds it difficult to meet his gaze but she forces herself to do so, at least briefly, before looking down again. "I wish to apologize for what I said to you in Sickbay. It was uncalled for and I regret both my demeanor and any insult I caused you. I was overemotional, ill-mannered and unprofessional and--and perhaps that is what keeps causing my difficulties with others."

She cuts herself off, embarrassed about having blurted that last part--that wasn't what she planned to say at all. After a brief, awkward hesitation as she regrets what she's just expressed, Kylah stiffly holds out her hand. "I just meant... everything was my fault entirely. Please... I hope you will forgive me."

Graham feels a moment of anxiety as Kylah makes a beeline for him. As she profusely apologizes, he can't help but smile. She's not a child, he thinks, remembering their confrontation. But she's so young...and something is not right. He's relieved: if her previous hostility had been heartfelt and sustained, he would have had no idea how to deal with it. He tries to restrain his grin which he thinks must make him look goofy. "It's...ah...look, as a security officer I've been cussed at, slapped, had things thrown at me...all because I was trying to do my job. A few words were...it's all right."

He looks at her outstretched hand. Once again he is keenly aware of his own scars, But he accepts her handshake, and gently, but firmly, pulls her just a little closer and lowers his voice, trying to ensure only she can hear. Psychology is not his strong suite, but he's aware enough to know that what happened previously causes her to feel embarrassed.

"No one," he says, his smile gone and trying to keep his voice low and express the concern he feels, "has any right to treat you wrong. It's...you don't have to try deal with...whatever it is...alone, OK?"

He's torn, a bit: it's entirely possible that she's playing some kind of game, or that her culture--what was it Rangin had said? It's different?--means he's way off base. But his inclination is that she's a young woman his daughter's age that some son of a bitch is playing games with. And that makes him feel...protective is a word that comes to his mind, but he corrects that: homicidal is more accurate.

He releases her hand and starts to reach out to clasp her shoulder, but it doesn't feel right to him. He withdraws his hand and simply nods.

Kylah hears the hesitation in Graham's voice. She's used to men of his age who are nothing but certain: certain of their strength, their power, their rectitude. Yet, while Graham is obviously physically strong and--given his related tale from the other night--potentially dangerous, there's something vulnerable in his halting attempt to make light of her outburst yesterday. The knotted muscles in Kylah's shoulders start to relax.

But then he takes her hand and, without asking, draws her nearer.

Kylah's heart nearly leaps from her chest in terror and time seems to stop; no, not stop, but move backwards. Yesterday he told her she wasn't a child but with this single gesture, pulling her to him as if she's on a leash, she's become one again. Logic suddenly has no purchase in her mind, there's only a wild instinct to yank herself free and escape, options not afforded her when she really was a child. She inhales and is about to inadvertently cause a scene far worse than Ferguson did yesterday--one that will erase every bit of goodwill her words, and his, have engendered.

Suddenly he speaks again, intimately. But this type of intimacy is not what she expected: it's not the insidious intimacy of collusion, manipulation, or intimidation. It is merely gentle reassurance. "No one has any right to treat you wrong," he says, just managing to reach through Kylah's racing thoughts. Then he tells her she doesn't need to deal with things alone.

Kylah can't help herself. She looks up at him at last, eyes wide but intense, and pushes forward with her mind. She senses concern. Protectiveness. Anger--but not at her.

Graham releases his light grasp almost the instant he stops speaking. The paralysis that gripped her is also released, though much more tentatively. She can't believe how his earlier gesture affected her, or how much relief she feels now that the moment is over. She feels shame, too, at having ascribed sinister motives to him. Of course, it's possible this is a ruse, an attempt to gain her trust as a method to get past her defenses. It wouldn't be the first time someone played with her emotions this way.

Still, when she watches him nod, she nods back. "Thank you," she murmurs in a barely audible rush, "but I must deal with things alone. It is safer. And in the end there is really no other way, is there?"

Blinking, and remembering that this exchange is public, Kylah lifts her chin and continues more deliberately and formally: "I am grateful you do not hold my behavior against me, Mr. Graham. It will be a pleasure to serve with you on the mission." With a final bob of her head in acknowledgment, she turns and walks with as much dignity as she can back to her now-cold drink and solitary chair.

Collins notices out of the corner of her eye that Kylah has gone to greet and speak with Graham. She watches and waits for them to finish talking. When Kylah returns to her table, Collins waves Graham over to her table.

Graham exhales as Kylah walks away. He's relieved to see Collins wave him over: otherwise, he thinks, I might just stand here like a fool indefinitely trying to figure out what's going on. Clearly there is something, but he has no idea what--and obviously Kylah isn't likely to volunteer any further information.

He reminds himself that Collins told him Kylah was close to T'Var, and hopes he can find a way to talk to the doctor privately during the mission. Thinking of T'Var also calls to mind Bennett: he feels himself flush slightly. When he first came onboard, he was initially struck by her appearance. But as he thinks about last night, her voice and her story dominates his memory. He's certain that's due to more than her lilting accent--but speaking of standing around like a fool, he thinks, he puts sorting his feelings out off for later. Feelings, he muses...hell, plural. Complicated, I guess. Can't deny that...and..don't want to...I think.

He holds up a finger to Collins to indicate he needs a moment. He quickly grabs a cup of coffee and then approaches her table. He gives her a quick mock salute before sitting down. "So L-T, we're not exactly storming the barricades on this mission, eh? But still--any orders on the security game plan before we go?"

Rangin wanders into the mess hall having got distracted on route by a couple of friends. It had been good to catch up for a few minutes and then there were a couple more friends he had begun chatting to and he was slightly late.

Humming something under his breath, he wanders up and grabs breakfast before looking round the seating. Noticing the layout, he decides to grab the seat partway between Kylah and Collins and sits down with a jaunty "Good morning all." and a big contented smile.

As Graham moves to sit with Collins, Kylah watches him warily, wanting very much to trust him but not quite able to. Her gaze shifts when Rangin enters the Mess. Seeing his pleasant, easygoing manner feels more immediately calming than the anti-anxiety hypospray. Especially when he sits nearby and greets her, along with Collins and Graham at their table.

He seems to like everyone, Kylah thinks, both in admiration and some disappointment. Someone so affable and even-tempered is special indeed, at least compared to so many others Kylah knows. What she finds disappointing is that Rangin's cheerful demeanor is so universal. He treats everyone equally. A good trait, to be sure, but Kylah can't help wishing there were something...different... in how he treats her. I was the one to cancel our plans, she remembers with regret. If their relationship remains one of friendly colleagues, she is to blame.

Besides, Rangin doesn't seem the type who would waste time with someone as fractious and secretive, as fraught with problems as she is. Where he would have left the Ferguson issue alone, Kylah charged in and created an even more disturbing situation. Rangin avoids unnecessary confrontations while Kylah blunders into them and makes things worse. No, he would not seek out such a fool as she. A woman equally pleasant, charming and open--someone like that Bennett--that is the sort of woman Rangin would likely be drawn to.

Kylah returns his greeting with a simple "Good morning." Then, wanting more contact, she adds: "I... I must compliment you again on your presentation yesterday. I spent much of the night researching the planet's history and found little that you had not already covered."

She hates the words as soon as she says them. Even a Vulcan would have come up with a warmer turn of phrase.

"Just keep your eyes open," Collins tells Graham. She returns Rangin's greeting then turns back to Graham. "If I've learned anything after the last mission it's that the simpler things seem, the wronger they will go." She now includes Rangin and Kylah in her conversation. "We'll start with the station, make sure everything there is running smoothly, help them if they need it. Then we'll check out the spa." Collins really wishes they'd be able to stay at the spa and take advantage of its services, but she knows that's not on the docket. "It's observe and report only. No sampling. We'll talk to some of the guests as well as the staff before returning to the research station."

T'Var heads to the Mess Hall for her usual breakfast of Vulcan Spice Tea and a warm biscuit with honey and butter.

She joins the assembled group at their table. "Good morning, everyone."

The group has a pleasant breakfast together before being summoned to the Bridge. T'Var is just able to finish her tea.

On the Bridge, Capt. Singh is in the center chair. Cmdr. Vargas is seated at the Security console; he gestures to Collins and Graham to come over. Pourtash, at the Helm, says, "Now entering the Omicron Ceti system, ma’am." Bennett is beside him at Navigation.

“Sensors show three ships already in orbit of our destination, Captain,” Roble says from the Science console.

“Identify, please.”

He peers into the sensor reader to his left. “Scanning… it’s the starliner Empress of Berengaria, and two private yachts, the Trimalchio and the Fastolfe’s Chariot.”

There is a loud thud from the Engineering console. Everyone turns to see that Delaney has dropped a datapad. His expression is an odd mix of what Graham, who is nearest, could only describe as both chagrin and excitement. “Sorry,” Delaney mutters as he picks the pad back up.

"Slow to impulse, and establish standard orbit,” says the Captain. “Send my compliments to the masters of the three ships, Mr. Thalen, and then hail the research station."

The Andorian says, "Hailing... contact established with the station.”

The viewscreen clears from a picture of an M-class world growing ever larger, to that of a middle-aged black man in Science blue in what appears to be a lab. “Welcome, Yorktown. I’m Lt. Christopher Palver, director of the Starfleet research station here on OC3.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m Capt. S.P. Singh. We’ll be beaming down our landing party shortly, if that suits you.”

“Of course, Captain. You’re right on time. Anthony Wilson, director of the resort, will meet us at the beamdown point. Here are the coordinates.” He reaches offscreen to touch a switch.

“Coordinates received and relayed to the Transporter Room, ma’am,” says Thalen.

“Very well. Thank you, Lt. Palver." She leans back. "Lt. JG Jeremi Collins and her people will see you in the next few minutes. We’ll begin beaming down your supplies within the hour.”

“Acknowledged, Yorktown, and thanks. OC3 out.”

Singh turns to Collins. “Proceed, Mr. Collins, and good luck.”

Graham struggles to keep his eyes on the viewscreen rather than Bennett. He's always found navigators a little intimidating: not that there weren't other disciplines that were over his head--such as engineering and all the sciences--but he understood very well what it was to operate a ship's weapons systems in combat. It seemed to him that navigators were doing the equivalent of that plus ten other things at once, with similar life-or-death consequences when things got tight.

Get focused, Booker, he thinks. You're on mission, and she'll think you're a weirdo if she catches you staring at the back of her head. In point of fact his eyes are drawn to her hands on the console: elegant, to be sure, but confident, strong--piloting a hundred thousand metric ton ship halfway across the galaxy strong. When she's a captain, he thinks, sure that she will be, maybe she'll want a knuckle-dragger like me along to manage security.

This thought evokes a pang: a strong woman wanted to rely on me before. Is this a chance to do right, or to repeat my mistakes?

Delaney dropping a datapad brings him back into the moment. Activity on the viewscreen: time to pay attention to who says what, body language, any hint at what's going on based on what you can see in the background. Not that hidden threats were likely on this mission: but I'm here to do a job, he reminds himself.

Kylah has been pondering the meanings of the three ships' beautiful names when she's distracted by Delaney's dropped datapad. She glances over at him briefly, surprised; he's never struck her as being clumsy--not a man who can fix a transporter under the threat of approaching cannibalistic creatures.

Then the Captain mentions that they'll be beaming over, rather than using a shuttle, and Kylah's heart gives a little jolt. If she had a datapad in her hands she might have dropped it herself. It takes every effort to keep her face neutral and she realizes that this entire mission will be a test of her ability to dissemble. One wrong move and T'Var will send her back.

Nevertheless, the thought of another mission beginning with a beam-down--especially after what happened yesterday--invokes an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu, despite how slim the chances are that he will be at the controls. Kylah unconsciously moves a little closer to Graham and takes slow, calming breaths.

Relaxed and calm, Rangin is happy standing on the bridge unobtrusively while those around carry out their duties. He tries not to smile at Delaney's slip with the datapad, but it seems that one of the ships has some meaning for him. He looks across at Collins, wondering what her current state is. She seems to have recovered from last night and no longer seems the distracted, nerve-ridden officer. Dr T'var is being as inscrutable as ever and Graham seems to be fairly solid and reliable, and an interesting sense of humour besides. Rangin doesn't need to look at Kylah to wonder what might be running through her head, because he wouldn't have a clue. But she is certainly trying to be friendly, her comments from breakfast seemed sincere, but she really needs to learn to relax a little more. She would probably do better if she wasn't trying to live up to some set of enforced expectation.

Then once the contact is made its time to head for the transporter room and down to the colony. Then the fun could begin. From the slides the planet was beautiful anyway and he was looking forward to walking through some of the areas if they were allowed.

T'Var, of course, watches everyone on the Bridge closely. Delaney and his datapad drop -- curious. Graham's momentary distraction while gazing at Bennett, then back to scanning the Bridge as she is doing -- most intriguing. Kylah, who seems to be fairly calm and focused -- hopefully the medication is helping her.

The doctor is fascinated by this mission and its challenges -- as well as its possibilities. T'Var smiles briefly. She enjoys a challenge and welcomes possibilities....

Collins looks over at Delaney when he drops the datapad, but doesn't react. Instead she assumes he recognizes the name of a ship he never expected to see again.
She listens as the Captain and the Lieutenant exchange greetings, then in response to the Captain. "Thank you, sir." As she heads to the turbolift, she calls to her team. "Let's hit it."

Rangin turns to Kylah alongside, "Ready?"

The landing party goes by turbolift to Transporter Room 1. Vice Adm. Hardin and Lt. Cmdr. Ebling meet you there, and the old man greets you, looking quite happy.

Lt. JG Collins, Dr. T'Var, Lt. JG Delaney, and Ensigns Rangin, Kylah and Graham each draw a phaser-1 and communicator from the equipment locker. T'Var also has her medikit and medical tricorder, Rangin and Kylah have standard tricorders, and Delaney has a tricorder and his engineer's toolkit on his hip. Others may draw a tricorder, if they wish.

"Mr. Collins," Transporter Chief Belinda Brady says, looking up from her console, "the research station is standing by. Who would you like to beam down first?" The transporter platform has six spaces.

After Kylah replies to Rangin with a somewhat distracted "Yes, thank you," she follows the others to Transporter Room 1. The sight of the Transporter Chief lifts her spirits at once. She takes her phaser and communicator and waits to be beamed down to the station. Now her heart beats faster thanks to a more pleasant anticipation of the mission ahead. Feeling almost buoyant, Kylah looks back at Rangin and gives him a warm smile of excitement.

"Delaney and Graham, you beam down with the Admiral and his aide," Collins tells the group, "We'll follow right after."

"Yes ma'am," Graham says.

He wonders for a moment about the wisdom sending the top brass down first--just in case something's not right on the ground--but it's ostensibly about as safe as an environment and not his call in any event.

He turns to Delaney and says: "Unlikely to be necessary, Lt. Delaney, but if it is--may I suggest you see to it the Admiral and his aide get to cover? I'll draw fire." He checks the charge and setting on his phaser, and adds a wink at the engineer.

The admiral, his flag aide, Graham and Delaney step up onto the transporter platform. "Energize," Collins orders, and they disappear into the transporter effect, reforming seconds later on the surface of Omicron Ceti III.

Graham looks around and sees the four are now standing on a thermocrete pad about ten meters wide. A very bright sun beats down on them; there are only a few clouds in the blue sky. The area around the pad is grassy, with bushes and trees rising around it, not far away, in almost every direction. Just to their left and about two hundred meters away is a thick white cylindrical tower, about sixty meters tall and also apparently made of thermocrete, featureless but for a band of thin horizontal windows on what appears to be the top floor. A blue Federation flag flies from a pole not far from the tower's entrance, and just beyond it, mostly hidden behind the building, is a large lake. The area reminds Delaney of the hill country of southern California.

Lt. Palver, whom the landing party saw earlier on the Bridge viewscreen, is walking down a pathway from the entrance towards the USS Yorktown contingent, accompanied by two people in civilian clothes. Collins and the rest of the landing party materialize on the pad just as Palver and the others arrive.

Rangin picks up his phaser and tricorder and wonders why he would need the weapon on what is supposedly a Federation planet, with a research station and spa. Then again, after last time, better safe than sorry. He catches the smile from Kylah, noting her change in demeanour from nervous to excited and responds with an equally cheerful smile.

When he beams down he looks round at the scenery drinking in the view. While they are being greeted, he will look for signs and listen around for any animals in the area. He wonders if any will be there, or if the planet will still be as devoid of animal life as it always was.

T'Var looks about her slowly. The bright sun makes her feel right at home. As a Vulcan, she can truly appreciate the prospect of exploring an environment with grass, trees and a lake. T'Var is eager to explore and learn more about this place.

Rangin knows that it's standard Starfleet operating procedure for landing party members to each carry communicators and phaser-1s, just in case, and for Science personnel to also carry tricorders, regardless of how safe or well-understood a planet is thought to be. The xenobiologist sees and hears no animal life of any kind.

Lt. Palver smiles, introduces himself to Lt. JG Collins, shakes hands and says, "Welcome to OC3. This is Anthony Wilson, director of the WR&R resort, and his deputy, Mattie Hsu. I invited him - them - to join us." Wilson is a short, sleek man of indeterminate age with a slightly bored-with-it-all air. Collins instantly dislikes him. Hsu is an older Asian woman with red hair cut very short; she carries a datapad. Both Wilson and Hsu wear stylized "W" silver-and-green pins on their dark civilian tunics.

"Good to meet you," Collins shakes hand with Hsu first, then Wilson. She resists the urge to wipe her hand on her trousers afterward. "I would like to see your books for the last twelve months, plus any communcations you've received from your guests." Best way to see how they're doing is to hear from the customers.

The sun makes Kylah squint a bit, and she shades her eyes. What she can see of the planet looks lush and attractive. And such a blue sky! She has a childlike impulse to kick off her boots and run through the grass in her bare feet. A pity that the beauty is actually hiding a toxic atmosphere that would harm them if not for the anti-radiation boosters. So much that is beautiful is a mere illusion, she thinks.

Naturally she remains silent when the men and woman arrive and introduce themselves, just nodding a polite greeting in response to their own. When Collins's first words amount to "Hello-I-demand-you-show-me-your-books," Kylah has to force herself not to grind her teeth; her hands are clasped behind her back, however, and they clench and unclench in annoyance. Does this woman have no knowledge of tact and diplomacy?

Kylah is far from the most diplomatic person in Starfleet, but she winces at the thought of putting these strangers on the defensive--just as they had the Sakathians. Why in the name of all the Tellun System would she not at least ask them to assist her, rather than making it an order? Are the words 'May I' and 'please' not in her vocabulary?

The Wrigley people are not ensigns or menials to be ordered about in such a manner--and besides, didn't Collins herself say she planned to start with the research station first, then look into the spa? Perhaps she should have spent last night memorizing her strategies instead of taking a twelve-hour nap.

Sighing, Kylah runs through how she would have opened such an interaction. Starting with pleasantries, remarking on the planet, the architecture, the reputation of the spa... Thanking them for their time... anything to grease the wheels somewhat.

Kylah takes a quick look at Rangin and Delaney. Do they feel as she does, or is her own distrust of Collins coloring her opinion of this opening salvo? But that is the very problem, Kylah thinks stubbornly. It should not be a salvo. We seek information, that is all!

She suddenly has to restrain herself from smirking at her own thoughts. If her late mother could hear that Kylah was judging anyone's ability to be tactful, she wouldn't believe her ears.

Wilson blanches for a moment at Collins's statement but quickly hides it; Dr. T'Var notices Vice Adm. Hardin and Lt. Cmdr. Ebling exchange a glance. Wilson says smoothly, "Our financial records are certainly open to you and to Starfleet, Lieutenant, but communications to and from our guests are confidential as a matter of Federation law. If you'd like to have a summary or digest of such messages with identifiers removed, or wish us to seek permission from particular guests or categories of guests for their correspondence to be shared with Starfleet, I suppose we could do that. My goal, of course, is to give you a complete picture of our operations here."

Lt. Palver coughs. "If it would suit you, Mr. Collins, I thought I'd show you around the research station first, since we're already here, and then you could go on to the resort with Mr. Wilson and Mrs. Hsu afterwards. It's only about a ten-minute walk."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Collins says "We'll start with the research station. Mr. Wilson, please forgive my bluntness. Of course we respect your guests' right to privacy; a summary would be fine, for now. And yes, I would like to, later on, speak with any of your guests who are willing."

Thirty seconds. Just thirty seconds and already Rangin is beginning to wonder if he really wants to be on this away mission.

The planet has no animals, and though the others may not realise it, it feels barren to Rangin, as if something important was missing no matter how pretty the scenery.

And then Collins decides to turn them into the equivalent of Tax Officers coming to check the books out for irregularities. Could she be any more insulting either to her crewmates or to the people we were here to visit. He looks blankly at the horizon hoping for a glimpse of something rather than cringe at the case of foot-in-mouth that Collins seems to have developed. From distracted to forceful to brain-dead in about 16 hours. Not bad going for someone trying to wreck her career, whether she intended it or not.

The only good thing was that Dr T'Var was a Lt, and technically outranked Collins. Not to mention that as the medical staff on the trip, perhaps she could certify Collins as not fit to lead the mission. But then perhaps that was the point of it all...

Graham is a little surprised Collins immediately asks to see accounting records, although relieved she says "I" rather than "we," as he would have no idea what to make of accounting records. He is interested in speaking with guests: if anything untoward that is within his skill set to detect is going on, that's the most likely way to do it. To make himself feel useful if nothing else, he makes sure he's positioned just off and back of the Admirals's right elbow, where he'd be best positioned to draw his weapon and step in front of the man, should it become necessary.

Kylah can't miss the reactions of the Wrigley staffers and even the Comptroller himself to Collins's words, and of course she's not surprised. But she is, if she's being honest with herself, a bit pleased. Perhaps word will get back to the Captain about the other woman's bulldozer approach to leadership.

She is surprised, however, that Collins seems to have quickly adjusted herself. The mission commander's response was far more deferential and polite, thank goodness. Good job, Lieutenant, she thinks, and isn't even being sarcastic. Well. Not entirely.

Little prickles of perspiration are beading beneath her thick head of hair, and she feels as if she's been placed in an oven. I hope we will be out of this sun soon. Even with the shot, it cannot be safe to be so exposed.

The longer she stands here, the more she starts to notice the lack of any usual noises one might expect to hear on such a verdant planet: no insects whirring or buzzing, no birds or other flying creatures singing to one another overhead. It makes her feel odd, almost desolate. The humanoids and their buildings seem even more out of place and... alone.

She frowns and lowers her hand, eyeing the massive, silo-like building in front of them. Utterly unnatural in such surroundings. Kylah wonders if setting up a station here, much less an entire spa, was really a good idea. If animals cannot live here, perhaps we should not either...

Rangin waits patiently for the group to proceed onwards to the buildings and the science station. At least once he starts looking at any advances they have made he can focus on that.

He glances round at his colleagues to see what thoughts are crossing their faces while the group stands out in the open.

Wilson says, "Thank you, Lieutenant" to Collins and nods at Hsu, who writes something on her datapad.

"This way, please," Lt. Palver says, leading you inside. He explains that the botanical and medical research labs occupy most of the building, while living quarters for the 22 Starfleet and civilian researchers are on the upper level. Everything appears new, clean and well-organized. Palver, who is a botanist, says that there are sensors at all entrances to detect if any of the spores are brought inside without authorization, and an alarm is triggered if so. The station's environmental controls are set to provide air throughout at a slight overpressure, so that any stray spores on the wind are kept out. Palver sounds enthused about his work: "We're trying to figure out how the spores function, and how to replicate, if we can, their healing and tranquilizing effect. We're also researching their applicability in cases involving mental illness and some exotic diseases that have resisted other treatments."

Collins looks around appreciatively. It was really beyond her scope, but it appeared to her that this place was leaps and bounds ahead of the Sakathian station.

The station is impressive on the inside, and Kylah is grateful for the safety measures. When Palver mentions the spores and their healing qualities, she thinks--as she did last night, during her research--of her own strange mental condition and whether it would count as something that might be cured.

But when he also mentions exotic illnesses, her thoughts immediately turn to the last victim of the Sakathian mission. Might Fujishiro be improved by the spores in some way? Kylah glances at T'Var and Rangin, trying to discern their thoughts. Surely they would have already thought of this as well.

She hesitates, then asks Lt. Palver, "Sir, this is an exciting enterprise. I am not a doctor, so forgive me if my questions are inappropriate, but may I ask, have you experimented with actual patients yet? What illnesses have shown improvement as a result of your research? And are the effects permanent, or must one have continual exposure to the spores in order to maintain one's health?"

Lt. Palver says, "Why don't I introduce you to the head of our medical research staff here? She's the one to ask about that side of our work."

He leads you into a large lab and there you meet Dr. Lucy Anderson, a tall, freckled blonde woman in a Starfleet Medical blue uniform. She appears to be of late middle age, with a strong Australian accent and a warm smile. Ens. Kylah repeats her questions, and Dr. Anderson says, "Yes, we've experimented with actual patients quite a bit, and still are. Some of them are from the staff or are guests of the resort, as well as patients from offworld whose doctors have run out of other options. We screen them and have brought several dozen here - all volunteers, of course. Let's see... depending on the species, missing internal organs regenerate after a month or so of exposure to the Contentiflora omicron Kalomi or COK spores. We still don't know why, although we have some good leads that we're pursuing. Once organs grow back, they remain intact and viable. Many but not all diseases are healed by exposure - some entirely, but others only while the person remains under the influence of the spores. One of the big questions we're tackling is why there should be that distinction. We've had especially good results with heart and lung diseases, and some maladies of the endocrine system."

My thanks to the Straight Dope's Gfactor for his suggestion on naming the spore plant.

Collins is intrigued by what Dr. Anderson has accomplished. She will wait until she can speak to her privately before asking if they've done any work with addictions.

Kylah finds this intriguing, and remembers her question from the mission briefing. She feels awkward considering her lack of medical knowledge, but her curiosity supercedes her reticence. "That is extremely encouraging, Dr. Anderson. And how do you counteract the spores' more deleterious effects? In the past people seemed to become addicted to them and needed to be emotionally jolted from the artificial... what should I call it... torpor and passivity that the spores induced. Have you found an alternative antidote?"

Rangin listens to the questions being asked and considers what is being said with what. He's impressed, Kylah appears to be asking all the right questions he would have asked. The general effects of the spores, what it has an effect on, how long it lasts, what other antidotes do they have.

Rangin whispers to Dr T'Var, "Do you think this could help Fujishiro?"

then to Dr Anderson, "Did you provide an antidote to the spores for use in the spa and, if possible, would we be able to look over the results from your tests?"

The doctor nods in response to Kylah's question. "Yes, it's the surge of adrenaline that kills the spores and releases their control over the patient's emotional state. There are drugs which can trigger that, of course, or we can simply administer epinephrine via hypospray." She chuckles. "Both we and the resort have similar waiver forms for those who are subjected to the spores' effects. Our patients agree, when the time comes, that we may provoke or insult them, or even use mild physical force on them. A slap or two across the back of the hands is cheaper than a shot."

Wilson smiles. "Our guests agree to that, too, but we ask them upon check-in to name a scene in a play or vid that they found very moving - then, when their stay is almost over, we show it to them. Nine out of ten times, that does the trick."

Dr. Anderson answers Rangin's question. "Other than adrenaline, there's no antidote that we've found. We're working on a method for pre-exposure inoculation for the spores, and have several drugs that we're now testing. One, in particular, seems very promising. Right now it's classified, so I'm afraid I can't show you our test results."

If Collins could raise one eyebrow, she would. "If I may ask, Mr Wilson, what you do for the 10 percent who don't respond?"

"Then we insult 'em and smack 'em around," he says, waggling his eyebrows.

Collins smiles.

"I am not sure," T'Var replies to Rangin's question. "However, it does seem promising."

Graham would have bet money he'd be bored in a situation like this, but there's enough going on to keep a little adrenaline--speaking of adrenaline--running through his system. He's given himself the mission of making sure nothing happens to the Admiral, just to ensure he stays frosty, although it's getting to be difficult since the level of potential threat started out "minuscule" and appears to be decreasing by the minute. But the background on the spores is interesting enough, and he notes Kylah's composure and assertiveness: is there something about being onboard the ship in general that's a problem for her? he wonders. At that, he feels a little pang: the last time he saw his daughter, he snuck into the lecture hall at Harvard where she was teaching a class and sat in the back. He couldn't bring himself to speak to her, or tell her he was there: but there's something about the young woman here, now that reminds him of watching Elizabeth then.

I wonder what Lt. Bennett is doing now pops into his mind. He feels himself blush a little: he feels an uncharacteristically...what? Warm? Romantic? feeling.

He mentally chastises himself: dammit Booker, stay on focused on the job.

Lt. Palver and Dr. Anderson take you around the station and show you several different labs, introducing you to the rest of the staff. Just about everyone seems bright, focused and glad to talk. Finally Palver says, "Well, that's the nickel tour. Any other questions? Otherwise, I'll turn you over to Mr. Wilson and Mrs. Hsu, and you can go see the resort. You're welcome to stay here at the station, by the way, unless you intend to beam back to the ship at night."

If there is an opportunity to stay the night, perhaps wander round the area, watch the sun go down and generally relax off the ship, then Rangin is all for it. But it would depend on what Collins has in mind, as she is leading the team.

During the tour, Rangin makes the point to Dr T'var that she has the perfect authority to look at the tests and the results and see if they would be applicable. But, he does concede that gaining permission to carry out anything would be difficult. He just requests that she look at the possibility and seeing as the landing party does not have much time, its an opportunity that is easily lost.

Before they go to inspect the spa, Collins approaches Dr. Anderson and gently turns her so her back is to the group. Quietly, she asks "Have you done any work with the treatment of addictions? My," she pauses, "my father is an alcoholic who's been in and out of rehab his whole life."

Kylah notices Collins talking privately to Dr. Anderson, which makes her curious but doesn't distract her from the questions she wishes to ask--although she would have expected Collins, Delaney or T'Var to raise the points. So be it. If they think of me as being presumptuous, I will have to live with that. They should have learned from our experiences last time.

"Your precautions against being accidentally exposed to the spores are laudable, sir," Kylah says to Palver. "But of course, things can always go wrong. We have recently been witness to a catastrophe where things turned chaotic very quickly," she adds darkly. "Do your protective measures have a backup system, should the electricity fail? Do you have emergency drills in place? Suits to protect against the spores, filtered oxygen, and so on? And if the worst occurs and you are all exposed to the spores, is there any... any automated system that might induce some sort of emotional or artificial adrenaline rush?"

Graham edges closer to Kylah as he's interested in Palver's response to her question. Given what the OC3 folks have said so far, it seems like common sense to have a team on stand-by in a secure room with environmental suits. Something happens, run around punching people, he thinks with some amusement. This would require investment, but given the high-price of the spa facility it wouldn't be unreasonable for Starfleet to require that it maintain such a system as a condition of its license.

Dr. Anderson says to Collins, "I'm sorry about your father. We haven't really studied addictions here yet; we've been primarily focused on life-threatening and serious chronic conditions. It's something we hope to look into, though."

Palver replies to Kylah, "The research station is powered by a triply-redundant fusion generator, so a power failure is very unlikely. We have quarterly emergency drills for contamination, fire, enemy attack, and so on, and we do have standard hazmat suits available, although really all that's needed is a breathing mask and standard filter. The spores only work if they're inhaled deep into the lungs, and that's not the kind of thing that happens accidentally. That said, most people exposed to the spores exhibit a mild-to-serious compulsion - which we still haven't figured out on a psychological basis, although it makes very good evolutionary sense for the spores - to share them with others. During each watch, we have at least two people in the station's control room, which is very secure and has its own separate life support system. They could seal off any affected sections or people if the spores got loose in here, and deal with any breach of environmental integrity; it's never happened yet, knock on wood. We also check in weekly with Starbase 27 via subspace radio, and if we failed to do so, they'd come check on us. What else did you ask? Oh, yes. There's no automated system to induce emotional responses." He smiles. "Although... hmmm. That's an interesting idea, Ensign. I may raise that with our project engineer."

"Thank you, sir," Kylah says. "Your system sounds very efficient and well-planned. I hope you do not mind my asking. As I mentioned, on a recent misssion we met with some difficulties during an emergency situation." She gives a quick, meaningful glance at Rangin, then returns to look at Palver. "Your thoroughness would have been a great help if they were universally followed by researchers everywhere."

She pauses for a moment to think of anything else that piques her curiosity, and when looking at the two spa representatives the thought occurs to her. "Lt. Palver, other than the occasional volunteers you mentioned from the spa, is there any other interaction between the research station and the spa, or are they entirely separate entities?" Lowering her voice a bit, she adds, "And considering the lab's experience and vast knowledge of them, do you feel confident that the spa's use of the spores is as safe and responsible?"

After a hesitation she shakes her head for forgetting to ask: "Oh, forgive me, I meant to ask you--how far is Starbase 27 from here? How long would it take for them to reach you?"

Graham finds Palver's response reasonable. But he's more intrigued by Kylah's continued line of questioning: she could be a good investigator, he thinks. But what the hell is going on onboard the ship to make her so much...less...confident? Less...what...herself?

He's troubled by her obvious glance at Rangin: Science Guy has seemed OK to him. But maybe I'm wrong, Graham thinks. Maybe I need to have a chat with him as well.

He reminds himself of his self-appointed position of looking our for Hardin. "Admiral," he says, turning toward Hardin. "Just checking sir...is there anything you need?"

When Kylah mentions about the recent mission, he nods in agreement and absent-mindedly scratches at the injuries inflicted, the reminder of what happened and considering he wound up in a coma because of it. A coma Fujishiro is still in.

Rangin hopes that Dr T'Var is at least going to have a look at the options. Consent and agreement may be difficult, but to not explore the option would be a dereliction of duty.

He listens to Kylah asking her questions, sensible questions based off the last mission. He's actually quite proud she has learned and is following up on it. All the bits and pieces that caught us out last time, she's trying to make sure they have covered.

A smile quirks onto his face as she continues and he continues to listen.

Palver says to Kylah, "We're in regular touch with the resort - the spa is just one part of it, by the way - and we help each other out from time to time. You know, if they need to borrow a cup of sugar or something. I've seen nothing to make me think that they're using the spores unsafely or irresponsibly, Ensign, although obviously they have a very different agenda than we do." He looks at her curiously. "The Yorktown just came from Starbase 27, didn't it?"

Vice Adm. Hardin smiles, pats Graham on the arm and says, "No, thanks, son. I'm just enjoying the tour and learning something new."

Collins is pleased to hear about the research station's emergency protocols. No zombies this time. She smiles inwardly, then opens her communicator. "Collins to Yorktown. Captain Singh, with your permission, the landing party will bunk at the research station." She waits for a response.

After a few moments the response comes back, "Very well, Mr. Collins. Permission granted. I take it everything's going all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. So far, so good." Collins answers.

Kylah widens her eyes at Palver's question and then does her best to recover. It feels like weeks since they were at the Starbase instead of just days. "Of course you are correct, sir--I apologize, I have always been better at names than numbers. Though even there I have some lapses," she adds with another look, this one more playful, at Rangin. "Thank you very much for your patience and candor with my questions, Lieutenant. Though I am not a doctor, merely a layperson, I know the work your team is performing is full of extraordinary possibilities for medical science. I hope the results of your tests will be fruitful and beneficial to many."

She turns to Dr. Anderson. "May I ask you--have you found any volunteers or perhaps even entire races who are immune to the spores' effects, or perhaps those who are either more or less affected by them? I am curious to know whether their potency is universal." Kylah then hesitates and shifts her gaze quickly to Dr. T'Var. "I do apologize, this is probably a better question coming from our Medical Officer. I just find the experiments fascinating."

Rangin meets Kylah's look with a grin and utters the word 'Jeril' silently back at her, before getting out his tricorder and checking it is working correctly by doing a few scans, while other questions are being asked.

The news that the party would be spending the night here is a bonus.

"No need to apologize, Mr. Kylah," says Dr. Anderson. "I love talking about my work. Most humanoids respond the same or similarly to the spores, although there are some differences within species subgroups, and a few exceptions entirely. Rigellians seem to be completely immune, for instance. Most Denobulans are knocked unconscious, while Betazoids are barely affected. Vulcans have a sort of allergy that makes exposure for them anything from mildly unpleasant to very painful to actually life-threatening. For that reason we have no Vulcans on the staff here - sorry, Dr. T'Var."

Palver says, "Tellarites find exposure particularly pleasant, so I'd say you're in for a treat during your stay at the resort, Mr. Ebling."

Anderson seems about to say something more, but then catches herself and just smiles.

Rangin's tricorder seems to be working properly, and a preliminary scan shows nothing out of the ordinary. What, specifically, will he scan for?

Delaney, seeing what Rangin is doing, unlimbers his tricorder and also begins to scan.

Kylah has been greatly impressed and relieved by the responses she's received... but the reaction that Dr. Anderson just had to Lt. Palver's remark about Tallarites puts her on high alert. "Thank you for your answer, Doctor," she says while moving a bit closer, ostensibly to take another look at the surroundings.

As she does, she focuses her entire attention on Anderson's emotions. She's been trying her best not to overuse her abilities--aside from the Ferguson meeting--but this is an entirely different situation. Her experiences during the Sakathian mission and Dr. Waite's secretive behavior are too fresh in her mind to keep her sanguine about a doctor hiding anything from them.

Kylah's empathic senses tell her that you see is what you get with Dr. Anderson - she seems open, honest, and really enjoys her work.

"What about hostile or potentially hostile races," Graham asks Anderson. "Klingons? Romulans? Orions? Could these spores be adapted to military uses?"

Kylah exhales in relief. Waite has made me paranoid.

She's about to ask about practical uses and how long the research might take before the spores become available for everyday applications, but then she hears Graham's question. Kylah is taken aback yet again by the reminder of this man's darker side. Biological or chemical weapons? Is he mad? Surely Starfleet would not abide such things.

But she clamps her mouth shut, anxious to hear the doctor's reply. If this is something they would actually consider... Kylah will have a real quandary regarding what to report to her uncle.

"We did hear of recent Klingon involved disturbances on Anubis and Haran V," Collins piles on to Graham's question. "Have they ever come here?"

Palver seems a bit taken aback at Graham's question and says, "The Federation doesn't develop or use bioweapons, both by law and by treaty. That's not part of our work, and never will be, if I have anything to do about it." Dr. Anderson nods firmly. Palver goes on, "The Klingons have never come here, and I doubt they ever will. It's too deep inside Federation territory."

Graham shrugs. "I didn't mean to offend anyone's sensibilities. It seems like in a hostage situation or when there are lots of civilians in the mix, something that silently turns everybody into best friends could be handy." He smiles slightly and turns to Collins. "I don't really see Klingons fully appreciating the facilities here...pedicures? Eyebrow wax? Although those I've seen would probably benefit from both."

Rangin will enquire politely from one of the technicians if he can get some scans of the pollen, just so he knows what to look out for.

He also enquires of the other staff if they have done any testing on animals and not just humanoid races?

He also asks with a smile what the mess hall in the research lab is like or if they are lucky enough to share those facilities with the resort?

Kylah, wanting to smooth things over, adds: "It is admittedly a possibility that someone outside the Federation might wish to take control of a planet with a resource as valuable as this. But as the Lieutenant says, it is well within the Federation boundaries. Still, one hopes that some day we might be able to share such lifesaving substances as this, even with those who were once enemies."

Even as she says this, she realizes for the first time that her Guardian will undoubtedly be furious with her if she does not get a sample of the spores herself; offering such a gift to his Klingon companions would be of extraordinary value. Shaking the thought out of her head for now, Kylah returns to the question she was about to ask. "Doctor, do you have any thoughts on how long your research will continue before you are satisfied that the spores--or their underlying compounds--are safe and controllable enough to be made available for more widespread use?"

Collins chuckles quietly at Graham's comment on Klingon sartorial habits.

"No offense taken, Ens. Graham," Lt. Palver says. "I just want to make it quite clear what we're doing here - and what we're not doing."

Dr. Anderson takes Rangin over to a clear, sealed biosample box which holds several grams of the spores, and he is able to easily scan it. "We've done testing on both animals and sentient beings, of course," she explains. "And as to the food here, it's fine - no better and no worse than you'd find on your ship. Typical Starfleet replicator or fresh-cooked fare, and it's free, of course. The resort definitely has better food," she says, nodding at Wilson, "but you'd have to pay for it."

"WR&R would be happy to provide you all with a meal, at no charge," Wilson says, smiling. "Perhaps lunch, or dinner tonight?"

Collins knows what her crew mates want her to say. Truth be told, she'd love a gourmet meal herself. "Thank you, Mr. Wilson. Dinner would be welcome. After we've toured your facilities and spoken to those of your guests who are willing to be interviewed, of course."

Rangin smiles back at the offer. "Dinner at a WR&R resort, that would be a fine thing. Of course, we are not supposed to sample the delights as a sole party in case it should bias any findings we may have. But it would be a great way to get to know everyone here perhaps more socially."

Rangin turns back to Dr Anderson, "Thank you for that," and he starts looking over the readings on his tricorder.

Kylah bites her lip for a moment, then walks closer to Collins and says, under her breath: "With respect, ma'am? May I suggest that we thank Mr. Wilson for his offer, but insist on paying for our own. I believe Starfleet would frown on a complimentary meal due to the potential of conflict of interest--even if it is only the appearance of one."

Ens. Rangin's tricorder readings of the Contentiflora omicron Kalomi spores are much as he expected, given the Library Computer records he'd already consulted on the Yorktown, which date back to the spores' discovery and the first studies by Dr. Leila Kalomi, the Sandoval Colony's botanist. The spores have never been found on any other planet. Technically (or botanically) speaking, they are haploid, unicellular and are produced by meiosis in the sporangium of the Omicron pod plant, which, Rangin knows, has immobile roots, limited stalk mobility, the rudimentary and still inexplicable ability to sense sentient life nearby, and scatters its spores by high-velocity expulsion into the air around it. The plant is unusually hardy, thriving with little water even in rocky soil and, of course, under constant bombardment by Berthold rays.

Collins replies as quietly "Good point, Ensign. I will bring it up with him privately, so as not to embarrass him or us." or myself.

With a slight nod, Kylah moves away and stands nearer to Rangin, curious about his findings... and just finding herself drawn naturally to him. Then she realizes the doctor never answered her question. She turns back to Anderson. "I'm sorry, Doctor, I may not have heard your answer. Do you have any estimate on how soon your research will be complete--at least, the first phase of it? I assume part of the reason for researching the spores is to ensure that they are safe and controllable enough to be made available for more widespread use. I would imagine there could be a great benefit gained by using the spores' restorative capabilities in hospitals or medications."

"We could be at this for many years, Ensign," Dr. Anderson says. "I wish I knew how long. The spores lose their efficacy soon after being removed from the planet's atmosphere, regardless of the storage method. For the foreseeable future, people will have to come here for treatment, rather than us taking the spores elsewhere."

The doctor's response lightens Kylah's mood considerably. Then they would be of no use to Aldaan, even if by some miracle I were able to steal some. The sense of obligation lifted, she thanks Dr. Anderson and turns back to Rangin.

"Do your scans show anything interesting...Jeril?" she murmurs in a very serious voice. "No sign of their being able to mutate and attack us?"

T'Var frowns slightly. "I will keep that in mind," she says. "Though I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to study your research in detail, Dr. Anderson."

Dr. Anderson picks up a datapad and makes a note. "I'll see that an unclassified medical summary is sent to your shipboard comm account, Doctor. If there's anything in particular that you want to then focus on, please let me know."

"So..." says Wilson. "If there's nothing else you'd like to do here, shall we go the resort now?"

"That gets my vote!" Delaney says enthusiastically. He looks at Collins, and clears his throat. "Uh... not that it's a democracy, ma'am."

Rangin notices Kylah coming across to look at his scans of the spores. He smiles at the mention of the name, which is not his name, and turns the tricorder slightly to show her the readings.

"There are so many things you hear about, but its never quite the same seeing it on a screen as seeing it for yourself. It's pretty much the same as shown in the science records, in terms of structure and known effect. But just to see it is another matter."

Rangin straightens up slightly. "As for mutation, well the spores are one step off the Mycelium Brain Fungus, which eats into a person's neural functions," he says with a wink to Dr Anderson behind Kylah's head, "the usual first symptoms are forgetfulness." as he tries his best to keep a straight face.

"Well, it isn't a dictatorship either, Lieutenant." Collins smiles. "Yes, onward." she waves her arm with a flourish in the direction of the resort. When they start off, she will catch up with Wilson so that she can speak to him quietly.

Palver and Anderson show the Yorktown landing party out, and say their goodbyes until later.

Wilson leads the way on the path away from the Starfleet research station and up to the top of a nearby hill. There is a sweeping view of the surrounding countryside for many kilometers from there. He points out the wooden frame houses, barns and other outbuildings of the original Sandoval Colony - still maintained for guests at the resort who want to experience the rustic life - as well as, a few hundred meters away and over another rise, the long, low, modern buildings of the resort, built of gleaming duranium and glass.

Collins has a chance to talk to Wilson alone as everyone walks down the hill.

"Mr Wilson," Collins says quietly, "While we are honored and very appreciative, we could not accept a free meal. Conflict of interest. So, we'd be happy to dine at the resort, but we will be paying for it."

Wilson says, "If you like, although it's really no problem as far as I'm concerned. WR&R is happy to treat you."

"And your generous offer is appreciated," Collins replies. "Some other time, perhaps."

Kylah is amused by Rangin's light humor, relieved that her gaffes from their evening together can now be treated as a joke. When the group walks outside she is pleased to be among nature, although the absence of other living creatures besides plants still strikes her as a great loss. The difference between the shining new resort compound and the original colonists' old, wooden, barn-like buildings--which look hundreds of years old instead of only five--couldn't be more stark.

"If there were time," she says to Rangin, "I would be interested in looking at the colonists' homes. Abandoned buildings fascinate me. One never knows what relics one might find. I used to go exploring in the closed-off wings of our home, not just for the solitude and comfort, but for the mysteries I hoped to discover. Usually it was nothing but old furniture or clothing, even some jewelry or children's toys... but still, they belonged to people long past, and I enjoyed imagining their lives..."

She realizes she's speaking quite a lot about nothing very interesting, and quickly ends her ruminations. Raising her voice a little to include Dr. T'Var, she asks of both her and Rangin: "Do you know how long these ARB shots last? I wonder how long one could last in these Berthold rays before the anti-radiation shot wore off?"

Mrs. Hsu overhears Kylah's remarks and says, "You're welcome to have a look at the colony's buildings, if you wish. Many of our guests like to see them."

Dr. T'Var says, "The shots last ten days, under normal circumstances. It should not be a problem for us. Living animal tissues cannot last more than a week if unprotected from Berthold rays."

"If guests visit or stay in the colony's buildings, seems as if we ought to have a look," Graham interjects. He turns toward Collins and quickly adds, "that is, if we have time now, ma'am."

"The strange thing about those buildings would be the lack of life in them from any creatures that could have moved in. Its surprising just how quiet this place is, just the sounds of us moving and little else."

Rangin is still looking around the view and seeing nothing of the signs of life he is used to.

"I never used to go exploring our home, it was a bit too small for that. There were plenty of other places to go and explore instead." A wistful faraway look crosses Rangin's face.

Collins looks over at what could only be described as a ghost town. "No thanks, Graham, The research station's facilities will do just fine." Then she smiles at him.

"Very well," says Wilson, leading you directly to the resort.

It's even more sleek and impressive as you approach the main entryway, which has a large, arched canopy emblazoned with a stylized "W." He explains as you enter, "We have space for 200 guests, and we're about three-quarters full at the moment. After check-in, all of our guests go through orientation, which covers much the same information as you already have, before their exposure to the spores. You'll see that shortly. Every guest has a private room, suite or stand-alone house, depending on what they wish to spend. Our guests stay for as little as a week and for as long as, typically, a month or two." He smiles. "Sometimes longer. We have some long-term guests who love it so much they haven't left since we opened."

The lobby, large and gracious, feels like a cool refuge after the glare of the sun outside. A half-dozen nicely-dressed people are walking through it or attending to business at the front desk. Wilson continues, "We have the usual range of five-star resort activities, including swimming, golf, hiking, tennis and other sports, and multimedia and live entertainment, meditation, discussion groups, arts and crafts, and so on. Of course the spa offers everything you might expect, including sauna, massage, aromatics, mud baths, Tellurian touch therapy, and the like. We have five restaurants, three bars, a variable-gravity gym, a hospital, library, conference facilities, gift shops and much more."

He seems quite proud of his domain. "Any questions so far?"

T'Var has no idea what a mud bath might be, though she would like to visit the library and learn more about the meditations available.

"Is there a particular type of meditation offered?" T'Var asks.

Wilson looks at Hsu, who says, "We offer guided or computer-assisted meditation in all of the major Earth methods, Doctor, as well as Vulcan, Arcadian, Jorlist, Neo-Jorlist, Mileri and Q'len."

Kylah frowns while listening to the litany of features, having focused only on one comment she finds rather worrisome. "Yes, I have a question," she says to Wilson. "You mention that some guests stay indefinitely. In looking at the history of the original colonists, we know that those who were affected by the spores showed a strong preference for remaining under their control. How do you ensure that your guests are not acting under the influence of the spores by deciding to remain? It seems to me that such passivity and near-addiction would be a very real danger." Albeit a potentially profitable one for the resort, she thinks dryly.

"If they have the money to pay," Wilson shrugs, "and had decided beforehand that they want to remain under the spores' influence indefinitely, who are we to kick them out? It's not an addiction, as such, or so the doctors tell me."

"Would it be possible to show the mechanisms that you use to introduce the spores to clients and how you remove them afterwards?" asks Rangin, "And how do you prevent your guests from introducing the spores to other people?"

Raising an eyebrow, Kylah glances at Dr. T'Var before returning her gaze to Wilson. "But you said that your guests 'love it so much that they decide to stay indefinitely.' That does not indicate an advance decision, but one made after one has been under the influence of the treatment. Did these guests indeed make informed decisions ahead of time? You see, Mr. Wilson, an unscrupulous person--not yourself, of course, I speak in hypotheticals--could very easily take advantage of people whose minds are not capable of releasing themselves from the spores' control."

She turns to T'Var and murmurs, "I should think maintaining the Starfleet contract would require a guarantee on the resort owners' part that these guests are making informed decisions without any undue influence of this potent chemical. Do you not agree, Doctor?"

Collins is glad there are those on her team who know what questions to ask. I'd rather have a phaser fight with a Romulan or punch a Klingon in the gut. Just because I read mystery novels doesn't mean I can solve them. Sheesh.

As he takes a last look at the old wooden buildings, Graham is lost in thought for a moment.

He had just made lieutenant, junior grade. They had gone away for a few days, just the two of them, staying in a little wooden house deep in the moors on the Isle of Skye off Scotland’s west coast. It has started to snow lightly while they were out walking.

They hadn’t dressed for it. Jane’s hands were freezing: thin, elegant hands he remembers watching many times as she examined some ancient little antiquity from god only knows where in the galaxy. He’d wrapped hers up in his—in his mind’s eye he notices his hands were unscarred then—and they ran that way, together, back to the cottage and a warm fire.

I want that day back, he thinks.

The conversation around him brings him back to the present: yes, right, once you’re under the influence of the spores, how the hell could you ever make a decision to come out from under it? It sounds like Kylah has raised this point…

Then his mind goes off in a different direction: I wonder what Cecilia’s doing? Is she on the bridge? Having a good or a bad day…did she think of me at all today? he wonders—and doubts it, with some disappointment.

Wilson patiently answers all of the questions, even as he leads the party through the main lobby and down a long corridor lined with what look to be very old and valuable paintings:

"Yes, you're about to see the spores introduced to guests, as I mentioned earlier. I don't think we have anyone scheduled to be withdrawn - that's the term we use - from the spores' influence today...?" He looks at Hsu, who shakes her head. "Perhaps tomorrow, then. But there's not much to see, when it happens. So: Introduction and withdrawal. We prevent other guests from introducing the spores to others simply by keeping the plants out of the resort, except under controlled conditions for new arrivals. Our grounds crew also regularly checks the area to make sure the Omicron plants aren't growing anywhere nearby."

He continues, "We have trained counselors on staff who meet with our longterm guests on a regular basis to determine whether or not they wish to remain under the spores' influence. Guests must also designate a family member, lawyer or advisor, not anyone on WR&R's staff, and provide him or her with durable power of attorney to be consulted if there's any question about a guest not giving informed consent to remain affected. We've had only an occasional problem or two with that. As you can imagine, people who can afford to stay here indefinitely tend to be quite wealthy and more than capable of looking after their own interests."

Saying nothing more than a mild 'thank you' to the employees, Kylah remains dubious. She looks with interest at first Graham, then Rangin. She wonders if the security officer is satisfied with what Wilson has just told them. He seems the cynical sort, to put it mildly. Is he content with Wilson's response? The notion that someone wealthy is able to look after his or her own interests strikes her as a nice sentiment but hardly universally accurate. How much incentive would a wealthy person's family have to keep them out of the way?

Rangin seems to represent the opposite end of the spectrum from Graham: a good-natured optimist. At least, he appears that way to her. Perhaps that's why she's drawn to him. She has met so few genuine optimists in her life, and fewer people of a kind, down-to-earth demeanor. Kylah is curious to know what he thinks of this escape from reality, which could so easily lead to a permanent withdrawal.

Collins and Delaney have been silent, she thinks, glancing over to the mission commander. And T'Var has said almost as little. Am I stepping above myself again? Yet, even as she muses about this, Kylah still thinks she'll take a look at the old colony buildings, if they do get any chance to explore on their own. Graham seemed interested in them as well. He might be willing to... well, not disobey, but not listen quite as strictly to Collins's orders. Besides, she didn't say not to visit the buildings, just that they wouldn't be staying in them. Kylah wonders if tonight, after hours, she might be able to take a look. Unlike back on the Sakathian research station, she very much doubts the crew will be kept under virtual lock and key.

Graham forces his attention back to matters at hand. "Three bars...plus 'Tellurian touch therapy.' I actually don't know what that is, but it sure sounds good," he says to Wilson.

He glances at Collins, and clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. He suspects she feels the same way he does: if somebody would point out an obvious "bad guy," they could swing into traditional security work. But that's unlikely to happen. What Elizabeth would do, he thinks, is like what Kylah is doing. Keep asking questions. Good ones. He looks at Kylah and tries to look supportive and encouraging, nodding subtly to acknowledge that she's doing the right thing. "Still, you'll forgive me if a grizzled old security officer like me wonders if these spores aren't a way that a spouse or heir couldn't send somebody very rich out to pasture...I'm sure that doesn't happen, but it's a risk Starfleet ought to pay attention to. So we might have some further questions, and want to talk to folks." He spreads his hands wide and smiles as disarmingly as he can. "Maybe at or after dinner? I'd bet what you serve here is one hundred kinds of awesome..."

"I don't think you'll be disappointed in the cuisine, Ensign," Wilson says. "As to anyone being 'put out to pasture' - we're aware of that risk, and do our best to ensure that those who are here want to be here. You're welcome to talk to anyone here you wish, but if someone declines to talk, I only ask that you please comply with their wishes, and respect their privacy. I would rather no one upset our guests." He pauses a moment, and turns to his assistant. "You know, Mrs. Hsu, I suppose the admiral and Mr. Ebling ought to go ahead and check in, and go through orientation. Will you take them to the main desk, please? We'll meet you soon in the Introduction Room."

"Of course, sir," says Hsu. "Admiral, Commander, would you come with me, please?" The three of them walk back down the hallway.

"That will take just a few minutes," Wilson says to the rest of the landing party. "Before we see spore introductions, is there anything in the resort you'd particularly like to see?"

Rangin does wonder why Kylah is being a bit more negative here than at the research station. Maybe she doesn't like them or suspects as a business they are up to no good. As far as Rangin is concerned, they're a business, which means there is a good chance they will be corrupt, but in ways that mean that it would not hurt their chances of keeping this contract. No successful business is that stupid. If there was a problem, not only should the research station have noticed, but so would any starship coming to visit. They may be shipping samples off site, but keeping a few people here longer than they should, would all be above board and legal. Just in case someone did decide to investigate them. Something this rich and expensive, is not worth screwing up.

"Just out of curiousity, how do you and how would you prevent the staff from partaking of the spores", asks Rangin. "I take it we will be able to see the precautions to keep the spores secure, but do you have any measures should any spores be leaked into the atmosphere." Rangin pauses for a moment, "and I suppose I should also ask, have you ever been tempted?"

T'Var listens carefully to the questions asked and then the answers given.

"With all due respect," she says, "this certainly sounds like an addiction to me."

The doctor pauses a moment. "I would have a concern on ethical grounds -- even though you seem to have the proper guidelines in place for those who wish to stay indefinitely."

it takes a moment for the Vice Admiral and his aide to walk away with Mrs Hsu for Rangin to realise that something doesn't quite ring true. In the Mission briefing when he suggested and assumed that Mr Ebling would be staying on the planet, Captain Singh said that she didn't mention that Lt. Cmdr. Ebling would be accompanying the Vice Admiral down to the planet, or even if she would. And yet, there she went walking away down the corridor.

Rangin waits for a moment when he can approach Collins quietly. "My apologies for asking Sir, but didn't Captain Singh say in the briefing that though the Vice Admiral would be staying, there was no suggestion that Lt Cmdr Ebling would be doing likewise? Is it worth confirming that they are both supposed to be staying?"

Rangin pauses for a moment before adding "I apologise in advance, if I have assumed something incorrectly again."

Collins replies as quietly "That's what I thought, too. But there she was, this morning, in the transporter room." Collins shrugs.

"If you just wish to talk and not tour the resort for now," Wilson says, "why don't we have a seat?" He leads the landing party to a plushly-appointed conference room nearby, and everyone is soon comfortably seated. A waiter enters and Wilson says, "Refreshments, anyone?"

He orders a glass of Theban iced cider and answers Rangin. "A medscan will show the presence of the spores in your lungs at once, and all of our staff sign employment contracts prohibiting spore exposure without permission from a supervisor. We take precautions similar to those of the research station to keep spores out of the resort. As it happens, we permit our staff one free spore use per year, and many do so while on vacation. It costs the company nothing, really, and it's quite good for morale. I've done it myself twice, for a week each time. Clears your mind, and it's very relaxing."

He leans back and steeples his fingers. "I've always understood an 'addiction,' Doctor, to be the continued repetition of a behavior despite adverse consequences. But there are no adverse consequences to spore introduction - indeed, there are only positive consequences."

Delaney overhears Collins and Rangin. He whispers, "I thought the Captain was just saying she didn't know whether or not Mr. Ebling would be joining the admiral. I think Mr. Rangin assumed she would."

Kylah requests no refreshment. She can't explain it but she simply doesn't trust this resort. The idea of being peacful and in blithe ignorance of one's responsibilities does hold a temptation for her, but it's that very reason that she doesn't trust it. Nothing so ideal can possibly be true.

In a cool but non-confrontational voice, she backs up T'Var's point. "At the Academy I learned that one definition of addiction, at least on Earth, is something that one that one compulsively indulges in to the point where it affects either one's own life, or that of those around you. Someone who escapes to this spa and lives in a falsely-imposed state of bliss is certainly affecting his life, and quite possibly that of his or her family or friends. Certainly that was the reason the original colonists were removed from the planet; they had ceased to follow their own ambitions and challenges." Kylah turns a hand over, attempting to show a fairminded view. "On the other hand, if there are so many back-up plans such as the powers of attorney and so on, perhaps this is not a likely concern. Except for those few cases you alluded to earlier, of course," she concludes in a murmur.

Wilson says easily, "With respect, I would disagree that the spores provide 'a falsely-imposed state of bliss,' Ensign. It's quite genuine; I've felt it myself. It's no less real than the relaxation you might get from meditation, or biofeedback, or a good night's rest, or the company of loved ones or friends. The colonists had big plans which they neglected due to the spores, it's true; but those who now come here, to be healed or simply to relax, know exactly what they're getting, and we're glad to provide it to them."

Kylah shrugs, affecting a casual manner. "I suppose we shall simply have to disagree, Mr. Wilson. Personally, I cannot put much faith in an emotional state so ephemeral that it that lasts only as long as one is exposed to a specific chemical compound. But I am no expert in such matters. I am glad that you and your guests have found the experience to be beneficial." Particularly for your well-lined pockets.

"That's fine, I just wasn't sure", replies Rangin to Collins and Delaney.

When Mr Wilson has finished responding to Kylah and Dr T'Var, Rangin asks a couple more questions. "Out of curiosity, how do people hear about this resort and have you had to turn some away, it can't be that widely known about and how do you know if someone is able to be infected by the spores without ill effect? I'm just interested in what filtering you do to ensure the well-being of those becoming your clients."

Rangin listens to the comments from some of the colleagues and is left wondering if they have ever been pampered in a spa before. Certainly, the spores could be considered addictive, but then so is alcohol, or adrenaline for some people he had known, and also for a variety of other substances. People coming here for a week or two would definitely want to get away from it all and unwind and if it involved spending a lot of money and the use of certain controlled substances, then someone, somewhere would set it up. He could think of several people who would jump at the chance to relax for a while in a place like this. And, Rangin muses further, some of them would snap out of it after a while, given that their businesses are their life and the thought of staying away from it would almost be anathema.

Thinking on it further, the spores are not an illegal substance, at least not yet and only because not that much is known about them. So nothing here that Rangin has seen so far is outside the law.

"I meant no offense," T'Var replies. "It merely seems as if what the spores offer is too good to be true -- that at some point, they may certainly become a negative rather than a positive."

The doctor frowns slightly. "Of course, once I have had a chance to study your research in depth, I will have a better understanding of everything."

Wilson thanks and dismisses the waiter when no one else orders a drink.

He says to Rangin, "We haven't had to do much advertising. We're a long way from Earth and the other Federation core worlds, but so far, word of mouth has more than sufficed to keep guests coming. Some people have had to be turned away due to scheduling, health or other issues, and of course, you have to be able to pay. I should add, we also offer reduced rates, or waive our fees entirely, in at least ten charity cases each month. All guests must provide a doctor's certificate that they're suitable for spore introduction. Introduction is not a physically-taxing process, though, assuming the person is from a suitable species."

"And no offense taken, Doctor," he says to T'Var, with a friendly smile. "It does seem a bit too good to be true, at first glance, I suppose. Certainly Captain Kirk and Governor Sandoval decided it wasn't for them."

A small comm panel inset into the top of the conference panel quietly buzzes, and Wilson picks up an earpiece. "Wilson... Yes?... I see... No, I'll come have a word with him... No, it's all right. Thank you." He puts the earpiece back, stands and says briskly, "Will you excuse me for a moment, please? There's a new guest who's become... well, I need to talk to him. I'll be right back. Please make yourselves comfortable here."

He leaves, and the door whispers shut behind him.

Become what? Collins wonders, Overly pleasured? a nuisance to others? Aggressive due to an inadvertent overdose? She resists the urge to follow Wilson and spy on him. That's not what a mission leader does. She goes over to Graham and says quietly "Tail him, stealthily. Try to find out about this difficult guest."

Kylah watches Wilson leave and comments dryly, "It is quite coincidental for this idyllic retreat to have one of its supposedly rare problems with a guest on the very day we first arrive." In a more serious tone, she murmurs, "I hope this new guest to which Mr. Wilson referred is not either Admiral Hardin or his aide."

Right idea, Graham thinks. But I'm exactly not the stealthiest guy in the galaxy...

Graham nods to Collins. After a moment's pause goes to the door to follow Wilson.

The door slides open and Graham looks out. The thickly-carpeted hallway stretches a short distance to both his right and to his left before turning out of sight in each direction. It is empty. He does not hear anyone.

Freaking great, Graham thinks. A 50-50 shot and I'm such the lucky guy.

Graham stretches, loosens up, and goes right. Hey, I'm just out for a stroll, a casual observer...'golly gee, I'll say, quite the place,' I'll say if anyone wonders what I'm doing.... Or, if necessary, I'll stun them.

Graham goes right, rounds the corner and sees that the empty corridor goes straight about 50 meters before ending at another pair of doors. Three doors are also on each wall, right and left, going down the hallway. They are numbered but not labeled.

Rangin bites down on his curiosity to see what else is in the hotel and seeing Graham leave the room wonders how he will fare.

"So shall we wait here, or see what else is around in the hotel?"

"Let's look around, see if any guests will talk to us." Collins decides. "Go in pairs. I'll back Graham up."

"What pairs would you like, ma'am?" Delaney asks.

"You go with Kylah," Collins tells Delaney. "Rangin with T'Var."

There's a brief glance from Rangin to Kylah just before Collins announces the pairs and he has a slight feeling of regret. There is nothing wrong with Dr T'Var but walking around a six star hotel with Kylah could have been fun. Then again, he would have expected to go with Delaney instead with Kylah and Dr T'var being the other pair.

Collins probably has her reasons and Rangin shrugs, considering that there will be probably be more opportunities anyway.

"Doctor, shall we?", Rangin politely asks the Vulcan.

Kylah is glad to have the opportunity to look around the resort without the supervision of their hosts, but wonders if disappearing behind Wilson's back is the best plan. Still, her interest is piqued when they are to search in pairs--and quickly dies down a bit when Delaney is chosen as her partner. T'Var would have been her second ideal choice; showing the doctor how hard she's trying to be a credit to the Yorktown instead of a liability--T'Var's word--would have been rewarding.

The irony is that a team-up with Delaney might have been her first preference when she joined the ship. Smart, attractive, extremely capable... He was the object of a very brief crush when Kylah met him. Of course now it's Rangin whom she'd rather have as a partner walking around the resort, even just as a work assignment. She's almost certain he does not return her warm feelings, but Kylah has not had so many friends that she disdains the idea of Rangin considering her one himself. Still, she's too proud to look at Rangin with any sense of disappointment. She imagines he's perfectly happy working with T'Var.

So Kylah just moves to Delaney's side and nods at him. He's still as attractive as ever and she tries not to stare at his face too long. All she says is, "Where should we go first, sir?"

Collins nods to her team then sets off to join Graham.

Graham shakes his head. I'll feel like a chump going back and admitting I lost him, he thinks but I'll be an even bigger chump if Wilson wanders back in to the room the team is in while I'm out wandering around. He turns and retraces his steps.

Graham finds his way back to the conference room without difficulty. The other five members of the Yorktown landing party are just coming out the door themselves. Which way will they go?

As the junior officer, Kylah waits for Delaney to make his decision about which way to go. She does suggest that they find out what room the Admiral has been assigned. It seems only natural for them as Starfleet officers to be told the location of their charge.

She privately hopes to try to find Wilson as well, if possible, and wonders if she might be able to sense any difference in emotions displayed within the rooms. If she senses someone who is distressed or upset--in other words, not in the peaceful spore-like state--this may well be the troublesome client.

"Sorry L-T," Graham says to Collins. "Wilson was out of sight when I left the room, no sign of which way he went." He takes note of the whole group and says with obviously exaggerated enthusiasm, "Does this mean the plan has changed and we're all going to go get Tellurian touch therapy?"

"Well I was going to suggest Dr T'Var and I find the medical wing and see what we can find", says Rangin, "after all. It's not like they have anything to hide."

"Good," Collins nods, "You do that, while Delaney and Kylah try to find some folks to talk to." To Graham, she says, "Let's go snooping." and winks at him.

Collins asks Graham "Which way did you look? We'll go the other way."

Graham gestures, and he and Collins then go left. After rounding the corner, the corridor opens up and the ceiling is higher. Valuable-looking spotlight-lit landscape paintings, perhaps from Earth, line the walls; it seems to be a gallery of sorts. There are no doors where they stand, but several dozen meters along there are four doors along the right wall, each about five meters apart. They are labeled "Conference Room 4" through "Conference Room 7."

Delaney and Kylah go right, as do Rangin and Dr. T'Var. After rounding the corner, they see the same long corridor Graham did before returning.

No one else is in either corridor.

"Well, Mr. Rangin," T'Var says, "shall we see if our hosts actually do have something to hide?"

Kylah walks slowly toward the doors on the left and then the right, touching her fingertips to the walls nearest the doors. Her empathic abilities are sometimes assisted by tactile methods, although it's certainly a long shot. Worse, she's trying to concentrate on any inhabitants' emotions without looking as if that's what she's doing. Not an easy task--and not, she expects, likely to be fruitful. But it's better than nothing.

"Certainly, the only question being which way is the medical wing." replies Rangin.

He turns to Delaney and Kylah, "Good luck, hope you find something of interest."

Kylah gets no empathic sense from behind any of the doors. Delaney, looking at her curiously, asks, "What are you doing?"

Rangin and Dr. T'Var go on to the end of the hall. Do they pass through the door there?

Kylah shrugs. "I thought perhaps if the problem customer had resulted in raised voices, I might be able to hear it. My hearing is very acute." She turns to Delaney and changes the subject quickly. "Perhaps going to these private areas is not useful. There must be many public amenities in a spa. Should we try to find them and talk with guests there?"

Rangin doesn't even hesitate in reaching for the door handle as if he was supposed to be going through the door.

"Shall we," says Rangin as he holds the door open for Dr T'Var.

There's no door handle; the door slides open as Rangin and T'Var get closer, just as on the Yorktown. They find themselves in a long hallway, perpendicular to the one they just came from; it stretches to their right and left. There are signs indicating that the main lobby and check-in are to their right, while the gym, pool and fitness center are to their left. Doors are along both sides of the walls at regular intervals in either direction, numbered but not otherwise labeled.

"Conference rooms," Graham says quietly. "I remember investigating a protection racket once. Bastards called the rooms they took folks who hadn't paid up 'conference rooms,' except there was a lot more hitting than talking going on once the 'meeting' started." He shrugs. "Probably not like that here, but your call if you think we should pop our heads in a couple, L-T."

"We can always say 'oops wrong room'." Collins tells Graham. "Let's have a look." She opens the door nearest her.

"Hmm," says Rangin looking around. "I would guess that each of the rooms would be private rooms for each of the guests. Shame it doesn't say where the medical area is, but its probably not going to be obvious."

Rangin looks back at Dr T'Var. "Well we could either go and ask at the front desk, you are a doctor after all, or we can just go and look at the guests working out. Chances are they will have some medical staff there we can talk to. Assuming that anyone is compos mentis enough to do anything other than be blissed out."

Collins opens the door to Conference Room 4. It is very similar to the room they just came from, but decorated with glowing Altairan light-sculptures instead. It is otherwise empty.

Collins closes the door and says to Graham "Your turn."

Graham pauses for a moment to listen at the next door. "And this''ll be the one where they are holding the annual convocation of Klingon warriors with pet killer Denebian Slime Devils," he says quietly.


If he hears nothing, he opens it.

Kylah follows Rangin and T'Var through the door to the next corridor, peeking out as well. "If you do go to the front desk," she says to them, "you might request the Admiral's room number, or, if they will not release it to you, ask to have him contact us as soon as possible. I think it is essential that we know where he is, for security purposes."

Looking down the other end of the corridor, she spies the workout rooms and then turns back to Delaney. "Sir, the public areas are in this direction. Do you wish to speak to the guests who might be there?"

Graham faintly hears someone talking inside Conference Room 5. He can't make out what's being said; it sounds like a male voice, and the cadence is that of Federation Standard or something similar to it.

Delaney says to Kylah, "Makes sense to me. Let's go."

The two have walked less than two minutes when they come upon a young human woman in WR&R staff uniform coming from the other direction. She holds a datapad in one hand and does a double take when she sees them, but immediately puts a smile on her face. She says, "Good morning. May I help you?"

Kylah wonders why the woman seems so surprised. Were the staff members not told of the Starfleet's visit?

She hesitates, waiting for Delaney to respond. He seems very reticent for a more senior officer; she remembers him being far more talkative when they first met. Indeed, he almost tripped over his tongue in his enthusiasm. Perhaps the Sakathian mission has changed him, too.

Feeling some sympathy, she glances at him, tacitly asking if he wishes her to do the talking.

"Well as Mr Delaney and Mr Kylah have gone that way, shall we head to the front desk then?" asks Rangin.

Graham tilts his head to suggest they move on. "Maybe we should find some public areas where we can talk to folks without barging in on a meeting?" he asks Collins.

"Sure," Collins answers, "Let's go." She looks around to see which is the way to the common areas.

"The front desk would be the logical place to being our exploration," T'Var says. "Perhaps they have a map of some kind we could follow."

"Front desk it is - besides they have already seen us walk in with the Director so they shouldn't have any problems helping us out." replies Rangin as he starts to walk in that direction.

Delaney says, "No, thanks. We're just looking around." The young WR&R staffer seems a little puzzled, but nods and goes on her way.

As Rangin and Dr. T'Var walk down the hall, they see an older human couple approaching them. The couple are in athletic clothes and carrying tennis racquets.

Collins and Graham go further down the hall, which turns to the right. There are another six doors to both the right and left, all numbered. An emergency exit is at the end of the hall. A Tiburonian housekeeper is stacking sheets and blankets on an antigrav cart a few doors down. He looks surprised. "Oh... hello! May I help you?" he asks.

Kylah nods at Delaney's efficient dismissal of the employee, and walks with him to the gym. "To be honest, I do not know exactly what information we should be seeking from these guests," she says in a low voice. "I find the use of the spores troublesome and find it strange that the Federation is allowing an entity reap financial rewards from something even Starfleet does not seem to consider safe enough to use on the general public. But what can we learn from the guests themselves? I almost wish we had been sent in an undercover capacity. We would likely have learned more under the guise of a guest than as outsiders."

She shrugs. There's no point in wishing for something that can no longer be rectified. "Do you have any suggestions on what we might ask these people, sir?"

"We're just having a look around." Collins tells the Tiburonian. "May I ask you a question or two?"

Delaney smiles. "I'm just an engineer; you're the Communications officer. Whatever you think best. I'll let you take the lead." Kylah sees that a human in a wet swimsuit with a towel draped over his shoulders is now walking down the hall towards them; he appears to be in his mid-thirties and is in very good physical condition; Kylah thinks he's quite attractive.

The housekeeper shrugs and says to Collins, "Certainly. It'd be nice to take a break."

Collins pulls on all those mysteries and detective novels she's read. "Have you worked here long? What do you think of the place?

Graham smiles a little: good questions, although he's not really sure if Collins enjoys this aspect of the job as much as he does. "Getting out and talking to people" sure beats being cooped up in some lab solving physics problems, as far as I'm concerned, he thinks. Not that I would know how to solve physics problems. While Collins chats up the housekeeper, Graham listens while looking around and tries to look friendly, yet just slightly menacing.

A thought occurs to him: they msy they have a gift shop. I wonder if Cecilia would like some kind of...something. He wonders who he could ask for advice on what to buy.

"Greetings", acknowledges Rangin as they approach the couple. "lovely day isn't it."

Kylah does her best to put on a friendly, not-entirely-innocent demeanor--she does so by channeling her young sister, who's never met a male she doesn't treat like a fascinating new toy to play with.

"Hello there," she says, bestowing a bright, attentive gaze on the stranger. "It seems you have found the pool. How was it?" Kylah looks with playful longing at the water dripping from his damp body. "I wish I had time to sample it myself. It would be delightful to get out of this uniform. Are you enjoying yourself?"

The housekeeper says, "I've been working here for four months... no, five now. It's all right, I guess."

The older couple with tennis racquets nods and smiles. The woman says, "Good morning." They keep walking as if to pass Rangin and Dr. T'Var.

The swimmer says in a vaguely Eastern European accent, "It's a good pool. The water's just right. If you get the chance to take a swim, I'd recommend it. I love this place!" He rubs one ear with his towel. "What's Starfleet doing here? Is there any trouble?"

"Terribly sorry to ask, but you could you please point us in the direction of the induction area?", Rangin asks politely with a smile, "we appear to have mislaid ourselves."

Graham tilts his head, expressing interest. "I suppose some folks might think this is like working in paradise...but you seem a little hesitant," he asks, sympathetically. "How come?"

T'Var smiles at the older couple while awaiting their reply.