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

Kylah's attention focuses on the architecture, still impressed, until she sees the pair of strangers up ahead. She frowns and casts a worried glance toward Mr. Graham, then Kalo.

"Those men, Mr. Kalo... Do you know them? Should you not intercede?"

Graham glances at Kylah and remains silent after her question.

Right or wrong, he's pretty sure getting slapped around is par for the course in a culture based on the traditions of American mobs. For the most part--not all the time, but a good portion of the time--internal discipline was brutal but not psychotic (with some notable exceptions).

He hops this isn't one of the latter.

Kalo smiles a little. "Sure, that's Bekmyx, one of my boys. And the old guy probably's got it coming to him."

As you draw closer, you hear Bekmyx snarl, "You owe me fifty bucks, and you're paying me, see?" He shakes the old man again even harder. "Or I'm takin' it out of your hide."

"I'll pay you, Bekmyx," the old man says piteously. "I promise! I promise!"

"I've heard your promises before," the mook says, plainly unimpressed. "Here's a good reason to actually keep one of them." He punches the old man right in the nose, hard, and Kylah hears an awful, liquid, crunching sound. Blood begins pouring down the old man's face.

Kylah stares at the man held captive by Bekmyx's grip and a wave of... something... washes over her. Watching Bekmyx pull his arm back in almost slow motion, she shakes her head in silent fear, dread, and a horrible sense of inevitability. Do not do this, she pleads, mouthing the words soundlessly despite knowing they are useless.

The actual blow, with the sound of fist on bone and the warm flow of blood, has such a visceral impact on her that she stumbles before stopping in her tracks, one hand covering her mouth.

She looks wildly--almost blindly--at Kalo, hoping he will prevent any further violence. "Do not let him do this," she croaks, voice slightly muffled by the cold fingers protecting her face. "Stop him!" Even as she speaks, the surge of electric adrenaline frees her from the first paralysis of shock and soon she is instinctively moving again, this time lurching into a run--and fumbling through her bag to grab her phaser.

Kalo says unconcernedly, "Hey, don't worry about it. Bekmyx's just getting his attention, y'know?"

As Kylah begins to move, one of his goons sees what she's doing with her bag and steps right in front of her, raising his long-barreled pistol as he does. He stares at her and shakes his head slowly.

Graham holds up a hand, slowly and deliberately and obviously away from his body--so as to be clear he's not reaching on a weapon on his person--as much for Kylah as for the goons.

"Stand to, Ensign," he says sharply.

More quietly, he continues, "Kalo, you know how back at house when you guys refused to disarm and I didn't incinerate you all through the wall you was covering behind because I said the Federation doesn't like to throw its weight around? Well we also don't like seeing the Federation's way of doing things shit on right in front of our faces, either. I think we're going to be set up for a much more...productive...conversation with the President if your buddy Bekymyx can dial it back--at least for the moment, as a matter of...let's call it simple respect for your guests, if you want to."

The sudden appearance of the gangster looming over her with a weapon forces Kylah to a halt. Her wide, frozen eyes cannot even blink, they do not dare to leave this man for a second. She knows Kalo is nearby, and Graham is as well, and even though Graham is on her side, the three figures make her feel dwarfed, insignificant. Helpless.

Kylah tries to hold on to the bag containing her zither, clothes and her mother's jewelry, but with the pain from the shoulder wound caused by one of the club-wielding men, she cannot maintain her one-handed grasp. When she looks up and sees the third man coming toward her, she redoubles her effort to drag her belongings backward--just when her back hits the wall again. She turns right but there is a wall there too--she is cornered.

When she lifts her head up to stare like a trapped wolf at the men surrounding her, sweat stings her eyes. "Stay away from me!" she screams, brandishing the knife.

The men pace before Kylah warily for a few seconds, and then one of them quickly darts in, on the attack. She slashes him in the side, but he brings his club down on her wrist, knocking the knife from it. Almost simultaneously, from the other side, the other man hits her in the temple, hard, with his club. Everything goes black and she feels herself falling.

"No, not again, please." The words are soft and high like a child's. She feels pain--but not on her temple, where she expected it, but on her nose and mouth. Desperation and hopelessness fill her. She cannot give this man what he wants; she simply does not have the money. And so she just covers her cheeks with both hands in hopes of protecting herself against another blow from the man grabbing her--

A familiar voice snaps out an order, from what feels like miles away. Kylah remains paralyzed while the voice--which she recognizes as Mr. Graham's--continues speaking. He seems so distant, too far away to help her. There is no one, and this is all her fault, her own foolish choices that made her stay behind on Anubis, that made her unable to pay Bekmyx what she owes...

Wait, no... that is not right...

Her heartbeat still pounds in her ears but slowly her thoughts turn clearer. I do not owe anyone... do I? She inhales and exhales, trying to regain control, before dragging her attention from the man blocking her path to Mr. Graham, then Lt. Morris, and finally Dr. T'Var before returning to the area where Bekmyx still threatens his bleeding, shabbily dressed victim.

Her trembling hands lower from her face, and she is genuinely surprised to see that they are not covered in blood. I am not hurt, she realizes with shock before the explanation dawns on her. It is this man. I sensed him. I sensed all of it!

Indeed, the more she looks at the victim, the more she feels his miserable situation--which means she is still empathically connected to him. Kylah shakes her head again and steps back, shutting her eyes in an effort to break the link. It does not work. This is much more deep than the brief connection shared with Mr. Graham back at the house. It is the difference between being bound by a thin thread versus a heavy iron chain.

Kylah breaks out in a cold sweat. For some time she has been mourning the loss of her empathic abilities, but for them to return here, in this way... Why? Why did it have to be now?

Somehow she finds Mr. Graham again. It is dizzying to look at her crewmate while still sensing--knowing--that Bekmyx is right in front of her. Unable to dispel this uncanny feeling, she can only try to disregard it. "I--I am sorry. This is too familiar. The threats, the beating..." Her dry throat closes and she cannot continue for a few seconds. Then she turns to Kalo, hugging herself. "This man did nothing wrong, he owes so little... please do not hurt him anymore." She hesitates, then blurts out: "I will pay what he owes, if you tell your colleague to let him go. I will pay the fifty dollars, I will give you more. Whatever you want!"

"Nice place," Rangin cannot help his sarcastic tone as he gets out and stretches his legs. The odour and sights reminds of some of the more salubrious places he had ventured into back on Coridan. Seeing Bullo head off further down the alley, he realises that it would be wise to get the details straight from whatever informant is there than rely on someone else.

"Collins, with me, let's go find out what they know. Garcia, keep an eye on the area for trouble, just in case."

Rangin starts heading down the alley.

Kalo scowls at Graham but calls out, "Bekmyx, we got guests here. Lay off, and take it somewhere else, would ya?"

The young goon looks over his shoulder, sees you all, and matches Kalo's scowl. He grabs the old man's arm and leads him brusquely away.

Dr. T'Var is soon at Kylah's elbow. "Are you all right, Ensign? Do you require medical assistance?"

In the noisome alley, Garcia says, "Acknowledged, sir." He remains with the car, as does one of Krako's mooks.

Rangin and Collins are soon caught up to Bullo; Hebyx and the other mooks bring up the rear. Zabo, the man at the end of the alley, gruffly greets you all and leads you into a filthy stairwell in a run-down apartment building, behind which the alley runs. Bullo handles the introductions.

Zabo says to Bullo, "A little old lady in this building called it in. She thinks she saw the kidnapped Starfleet guys being taken into the big apartment on the seventh floor earlier today. I got two of my guys upstairs keeping an eye on it. They haven't confirmed the report, but say there are at least two of Okmyx's goons in there."

As she watches Bekmyx take the older man somewhere unknown, Kylah feels as if someone is trying to tug her soul from her body. Then her innards seem to lurch and relax; the strong emotions that flooded her are gone. Either the old man has lost consciousness, or he is too far for her to sense. Kylah does not know which to hope for.

Now there are only the weaker emotions radiating from those who remain nearby. It is still so much, so soon--after such emptiness since the incident with Zweller--that Kylah is still distracted and vague, uncertain where to look or what to say.

Then she feels T'Var's presence by her side, mainly because the Vulcan's tight control of her own emotions is practically a shield against the humans and Iotians surrounding them.

"I--I am all right," she finds herself saying, though it is far from accurate. She searches T'Var's gaze and, not wanting the others to hear, touches the older woman's hand and aims her thoughts telepathically. But something just happened, Doctor. My empathic abilities have returned. It came out of nowhere, I do not know why... unless...

Kylah swallows and, shifting her gaze from T'Var to Mr. Graham, explains to both of them softly, "The attack reminded me of what happened on Anubis." She lets go of T'Var, nodding to the doctor to reassure her that the extreme reaction is gone, and she will do her best to remain under control.

After a deep breath, she turns to Kalo. "I apologize for my behavior, Mr. Kalo. I think it is horrible, treating anyone the way he did. I find the violence abhorrent. But I should not have acted so rashly. Something similar happened to me, not long ago, and I..." Kylah's voice is shaky and she clears her throat. "No. It does not matter. I am sorry, that is all."

Graham lowers his hand but steps forward slowly to move closer to being between the goon with the raised gun and Kylah. He locks eyes with the goon with the gun. Although his movements are slow he shifts his weight to have his best shot at controlling the weapon--or disabling the goon--if he were to do anything rash.

"So maybe now your tough guy here doesn't need a raised gun to deal with an apologetic young woman, Kalo," he says drily

Kalo looks at Kylah oddly. "Eh, don't mention it, honey. Bekmyx just shoulda been a little more, whatsa word, discreet, eh?"

To Graham he says, his voice cold, "Don't push your luck, pally." He nods to the mook, who holsters his gun.

Kylah sensed T'Var's concern and sympathy but no words. Her empathic senses do seem to have returned, however.

"This way, folks," says Kalo, leading you to a gleaming bank of elevators.

Rangin nods af the report. "If you can get us close by, we may be able to tell you if they are in there or if not how many people are there are."

His mind starts running through the scan routines his tricorder can carry out and thinking on the information he could gather: numbers, locations, weaponry. It is almost like being home again.

"Room above, room below, would be ideal. Otherwise I'll take what I can get."

"On your six," Collins states as she follows Rangin. When she catches up to him, she whispers to him "I don't think we should be so quick to enter this building. I'm telling you the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. We could be the next intended kidnapping victims."

Embarrassed by her reaction, Kylah flashes a very brief look of gratitude toward Mr. Graham before lowering her gaze to follow Mr. Kalo. She finds it unusually difficult to fight off the intrusive emotions from others; her mental barrier seems unsteady and fragile, like someone attempting to stand on her own after a long convalescence. She must concentrate only on herself, on the physical senses: the way her unfamiliar shoe heels click on the floor, the floaty silk of her dress against her legs, the goose bumps prickling her chilly arms.

But she must say something, and while at the elevators she asks tightly, "May I ask who else will be at this meeting, besides President Okmyx? And do you recommend any particular... protocol... in speaking with him?"

Rangin and Collins are already inside the building.

Zabo says, "OK, good. That'd sure help. The elevator's out, so it's seven flights up." He starts up the dirty steel staircase.

Graham makes a mental note: Kylah's asking exactly the questions a comms officer should.

Rangin says quietly to Collins, "I know, but this is one of the few shots we have of finding out more, it's risky either way. All we can do is keep our eyes and ears open. And yeah, I would be surprised any danger sense isn't going off like a rocket, given our present company. If it makes you feel any better - SFAQL - Stun first, ask questions later. But only if you really have to."

As they start to head off into the building, Rangin checks with Zabo, "I take it we have a room on the same floor then, how close is it?"

Zabo says, "Same floor, just down the hall, with a line of sight to the front door." He keeps trudging up the stairs.

Collins nods and smiles, and follows Rangin up the stairs.

Zabo leads you upstairs, then down a dimly-lit, equally-squalid hallway. He knocks twice, then twice more, on a door marked with the tarnished metal numbers "704." The door opens just a crack, and then completely. You enter to find a dingy apartment, overcrowded with old furniture. There is an unpleasantly musty smell. Two hefty men in suits with Tommy guns nod at you.

"Any news?" Zabo asks.

"Nope," one says. "They're sittin' tight, boss."



Kalo tells Kylah, "The President himself, maybe some of his boys. Dunno for sure. Just be polite and respectful, OK? You'll be fine."

You all get on the gleaming, roomy elevator and it whisks you upward.

Kylah thanks Kalo with a quick nod and a grateful, reassured look, as if his words have comforted her far more than they actually did. In the elevator, she continues to stand beside him, though not inappropriately so. Now that she has her abilities back--temporarily or not, she does not know--she must practice shielding herself as well as refining her focus. Since she does not wish to try her skills on one of her colleagues, she decides on the president's right-hand man.

She stares ahead at the closed doors, not really seeing them, but rather imagining a wall between herself and the others in the elevator: everyone, that is, except Kalo. Her concentration distances itself from the rest and instead narrows on the man beside her. It is not easy to do so, when the group is confined to such a small space, and she closes her eyes briefly while frowning in effort.

Focus. Focus on him.

She is near enough to feel the warmth of his body, and homes in on that physical sensation in hopes that this will open herself to let his emotional radiation touch her as well.

Kylah immediately feels a rush of impressions from the nearby Iotian. He is not a very smart man - she recalls reading of Kirk fooling him with a far-fetched game of Fizzbin - but he is dogged, purposeful and very loyal to his boss, Okmyx. She does not sense any guile or deception in him. She has a faint impression of past crimes, deeply suppressed or ignored, and overlaid with a lingering sense of guilt.

Rangin wrinkles his nose at the smell as he lets his eyes slowly pass round at the room and wishing he never had to end up in such a place again. He nods to the goons there as he moves in to stand near the wall and away from the window.

He raises an eyebrow at Collind to see what her initial thoughts are before asking one of the goons.

"OK, which room are we looking at?"

Collins is no longer smiling. It is an unpleasant room with an unpleasant odor. She is, however, on high alert, although her weapon is not drawn.

Graham is not 100% certain that Kylah is intentionally being very smart about using her communication skills while also exploiting the peculiar and, it seems, sexist culture of the planet.

But even if its unintentional she seems to be doing a good job.

And I'm doing mine - pushing Kalo's buttons a bit to see how friendly he really is.

Graham nods in response to Kalo's comment, and responds -amicably enough, but in no hurry. "Like I said before, you and I'm sure the president knows we don't like to throw our weight around unless we're forced to." After a brief pause he asks "Does he go by 'President Okmyx' or 'Mr. President?'"

"Just down the hall," Zabo says, jerking his thumb. "In 708."

Collins sees no cause for concern in the dingy apartment.


Kalo says, "'Mr. President' or 'Sir' are, you know, customary." The elevator stops and the doors open, revealing a gleaming circular reception area. The walls are blond wood and brushed steel. Men in suits and women in elegant dresses clutching files move to and fro, some singly, and some in groups. From somewhere nearby, Graham can hear what he remembers from old movies as being the sound of typewriters clattering away.

"This way," Kalo says, leading you down a curving, thickly-carpeted hallway. Two mooks in identical dark suits stand guard at a tall, padded-red-leather door.

Kylah appreciates Mr. Graham's question, as it is one she should have asked herself. With her distraction ever since the incident down in the lobby, and now with the strange return of her abilities... she finds it embarrassing to have forgotten to ask about protocol of address.

She does not regret having focused on Kalo, however. Her impression of him in just a few moments was quite strong--unusually so, for someone she barely knows, or someone not in immediate distress--and quite useful. She hopes.

When they enter the round reception room, Kylah inhales slightly at the clothing of the women. She hopes she is not poorly dressed. Some annoying clacking noise she cannot quite identify tickles her ears. And then they reach the impressive door, obviously the President's office or perhaps a suite.

Here we are, meeting the head of the Syndicate, without the Captain even knowing. Or even... She bites her lip and glances around to T'Var. The doctor mentioned earlier that she received a text message. Was it from someone in the other team? What if it is a medical emergency--why else would they contact Dr. T'Var?

She relaxes slightly when she remembers that, as far as the other team is concerned, T'Var is still leading this group.

How can I can reach the ship, while she gets back to Veli--Mr. Rangin?

Her gaze takes in the rest of the reception area, then an idea strikes her. She touches Kalo's sleeve lightly before looking nervously up at him. "Forgive me," she asks in a soft, somewhat abashed voice. "Before we go in... may I ask, is there a... a powder room?" Kylah silently thanks Collins for the reference guide to old Earth terminology. "I would be grateful for the chance to...well, freshen up, if we are to meet the President." She does not bother to hide her blush. "And perhaps Dr. T'Var might wish to, as well, if that is possible. Please?"

Graham chuckles and shrugs, glancing at Kalo with what he aims to be a look of shared suffering.

"Dames," he says, shaking his head. "But I guess we're the ones getting the short end of the stick if they don't work at prettying themselves up all the time."

Dr. T'Var immediately says, "Yes, I would like to... freshen up, as well, if I may."

Kalo smirks at what Graham said. He glances at T'Var and then back at Kylah. "You can go, lady, and then the Vulcan, but not together. Mino, show the lady to the powder room."

One of the heavyset mooks steps forward. "This way, ma'am," he says, not unkindly, and gestures back down the hall.

Casting what she hopes is a meaningful look at Mr. Graham--he must know her intentions, he would not be so offensive otherwise--Kylah follows the large man down the hall.

While they walk, though she keeps her face blank, her mind is racing. She is relieved that even though she and Dr. T'Var cannot go together, at least the doctor will have her chance to get a private moment as well--that should allow her to respond to that text message. But what if Kalo changes his mind?

The thought makes Kylah want to groan aloud. Oh I am a fool--I should have asked her whom the message was from! I could have helped her, if she is not given the chance to be alone after all! She has been biting her lower lip in consternation and now, full of self-reproach, she clamps down so hard she nearly pierces the skin. She and T'Var share the unique ability to communicate secretly, through touch telepathy. How could Kylah fail to take advantage of this? Stupid, stupid!

Restless and annoyed, she quickens her pace to reach her destination.



I'm assuming the goon leads her all the way to the restroom. Once we get there, may Kylah get a description of the layout, e.g. multiple facilities, sinks, etc.?

Rangin starts to think of what he may be able to do while acknowledging the all important information just given. Orienting himself having seen the numbers on the doors in the hallway as they had walked past, he looks round to once again judge the size of the apartment.

"They're all the same size, right?" Rangin tosses out the comment not expecting anything more than an affirmative grunt. He gestures with his head to Collins to follow him as he heads into the bedroom away from the two guards. It occurs to him that the goons may take it the wrong way in which case he is likely to get a little extra privacy that, while using Federation technology on this planet, can only be a good thing.

Puliing out the tricorder he starts to scan the size of this apartment and then starts to calculate the same size again but where the room they are staking out is.

Collins glances at the mooks, then follows Rangin into the bedroom.

Mino escorts Ens. Kylah to the ladies' room, down the hall and just past the elevator lobby. He takes a look inside and then waits outside while she goes in. The bathroom has three stalls, two sinks and a large mirror. It is sleek, spotless and - for the moment, at least - empty.

"I think #708 is a little bigger than this place, but not by much. It's two apartments over from here, that way," Zabo says, pointing. He follows Rangin and Collins into the bedroom.

As soon as the door closes behind her, Kylah takes a deep breath and moves into one of the stalls. The old-fashioned plumbing fixtures are a curiosity, but she does not intend to use them and has no time for cultural novelties. Instead she pulls out her communicator from the sash around her waist and flips it open. Her fingers are almost a blur as she types:

LT. THALEN - Please inform Captain that T'Var, Graham, Morris & I have been taken to meet President Okmyx. Not entirely under duress but the men were armed and strongly compelled us to comply; they are also keeping us under tight guard. I sought privacy to contact you, as I am uncertain as to whether open communication would be allowed. Cannot stay long. Text communications are advised. Will contact transporter room at once if quick retreat is required. - ENS. KYLAH

Kylah sends the message off, exhaling. She gnaws at her tender lip again in thought. She has no idea if T'Var's message is from the other team or the ship. And as she thought earlier, she cannot be certain that Kalo will allow T'Var to leave as agreed.

Her thumb hesitates over the tiny keypad. Text conversations take up too much time, a resource that is precious right now. After she argues with herself for as long as she dares--not just worried about being discovered, but about hearing his voice again--she ponders the option of contacting Collins or Garcia instead. But she dismisses the idea as cowardly. He is the mission leader. She will not let her emotions take precedence over her duty. Not again.

Outside the stall again, she stands at the sink and, after a test, successfully turns the tap so water splashes loudly from the faucet. Then, returning to the stall, she closes the door, presses the button on her communicator, and murmurs, "Silent notification only: Kylah to Ensign Rangin. Please respond immediately if it is safe. I have little time."

Kylah waits anxiously for a response.

After a few moments, Kylah's communicator slightly vibrates. She reads, Message acknowledged and understood. Captain advised. Rescue of CAG imperative. Good luck! THALEN.

Mino knocks on the door. "Almost done in there?" he calls.

"Thanks," is Rangin's reply to Zabo as he holds the tricorder pointing in the same direction as the gesture. "It's a little easier to concentrate with fewer people around and who aren't familiar with certain items."

Setting the scan to look for life signs in the area within the small range and on the same level, Rangin is sure he can find out how many people are in that room. " Collins, could you check for firearms in the vicinity please?"

It is then that he feels his communicator gently warn him of an incoming message. Must be either the Yorktown or T'Var he thinks to himself and about time to if it is the good Doctor. He opens it away from Zabo's sight, not wsnting to give away more than is necessary, but aware that thier boss is more than au fait with the item in question. The big surprise is when he sees the name of the caller: Ens. Kylah. Had something gone wrong with the other group and why is she calling on silent. Multiple options race through his mind but until he answers he won't know.

"Ens. Rangin here, I'm free for contact. Is there a situation update Ens. Kylah?" Rangin utters her name out loud knowing it will capture Collins' attention while if Zebo asks it will just be a regular communication for the orbiting vessel. He begins to wonder if he did the right thing in splitting the group and if Kylah is, well the group is, safe and sound.

Rangin's tricorder scan shows one person in the next apartment over, and seven in the apartment beyond that. All have typical human-genome readings.

Collins nods and takes her tricorder out of her bag to scan as Rangin asked. Even though there's no immediate threat in this apartment, she still is uneasy around the mooks.

Collins's tricorder scan reveals, not surprisingly, that Zabo and his mooks are all armed. There are two guns in the apartment next door, both small enough to be pistols and not actually on the person of the occupant. There are another three in the apartment beyond that, two pistols and a machine gun, apparently carried by two of the seven occupants.

"So what do people do for fun around here?" Graham asks Kalo, glancing as well at some of the other goons.

Kalo looks at his fingernails and rubs on them on his lapel. He shrugs. "Oh, you know. Broads, booze, cards, pool, darts, dancing, the picture shows, maybe some burlesque. Why? You lookin' for a night on the town?"

A combination of relief and discomfort flood Kylah when she hears the voice on her communicator. But Mino is growing impatient, and she cannot respond to Velir immediately. She steps back out of the stall and calls out, "Just five more minutes, please, sir. I--I am having some stocking trouble..."

Not the best excuse, but men have always seemed somewhat mystified by the intricacies of women's garments, so she suspects it will suffice. Returning to the stall, she closes the door and clutches the communicator up to her face with both hands.

"I wanted to report to you.... all of us are safe, but our situation is... uncertain." She rushes ahead to explain that they were discovered in the CAG apartment and are now at the headquarters. "Mr. Graham thought it best that we stay together and take advantage of the 'invitation,' such as it was. Ideally he would have contacted you first, but there was no time. And these men might confiscate our equipment at any moment, which is why I thought I should check in."

She inhales, nervous and awkward and unable to think of how to speak with the one person with whom she used to feel so safe. "Are you all ri--what is your status?"

* * *

"Excuse me," Rangin aims at Zebo and moves to give himself what little privacy he can in the room.

Rangin listens carefully to the report, differing emotions playing across his senses. Relief they are safe, but still worried as to what they are up to next. Of course, he cannot help but be concerned that it appears Graham is leading them. Why on Coridan would T'Var be listneing to that idiot. Perhaps that's what Kylah meant by uncertain.

Keeping control of his posture he answers her call, keeping his voice quiet but unable to keep the worry out of it."We're fi...our status here is good, well as far as being stuck in a seedy bedroom with Collins goes. The people we followed were at a meeting held by Krako, the second in command. He had a lead on the CAG and we are following it up and now we are currently in an apartment with several of Krako's men watching the suspected location. It's more a matter of convenience than alliance. Problem is, they think that the CAG are being watched by some of the President's men, but that is still to be confirmed."

His voice becomes even more worried as he continues. "Everything is alright, isn't it. I mean, T'Var is still in charge and ok isn't she? I sent her a message because I was concerned I hadn't heard anything but she didn't respond. Does that mean Graham is in charge? If he is and he asks, don't tell him about this stakeout. He'll only go and blurt something stupid out."

* * *

Though the comment about being alone in a bedroom with Lt. Collins makes Kylah blink in surprise, she listens to the rest with a growing, bittersweet ache. She looks down at her shoes at Velir's request. It came so naturally, and sounded so very much like the days when they were at ease with one another: willing to speak truthfully, sharing their thoughts without hesitance. She is afraid to say anything that might break the spell.

"The doctor is fine," she says carefully. "We have been surrounded by the President's men and she did not want to risk responding to your message. And yes, Mr. Graham is-- that is, Dr. T'Var preferred to cede the command to Mr. Graham. She thought he would be the better choice, because of his experience. Mr. Graham did not ask for the role," Kylah hurries to add, not wanting the security officer to sound as if he pushed his way past Velir's orders.

After a swallow, she goes on, her words reluctant: "But... but I do not see how I can keep from telling him that you have already found Lt. Morris's crewmates. I should not keep such a secret."

* * *

"Well that's never stopped you before." The words escape his lips before he can hold them back and probably uttering them louder than he intends. Rangin grinds his teeth in frustration, first Graham is in charge of the others and now Kylah decides that now is the time to stop keeping secrets.

"Please listen carefully," as Rangin drops his voice back into cold civility, "it is not confirmed yet, it is just a possible lead. The only thing you need to pass on is that Krako and his men believe Oxmyx is responsible."

He sags slightly and leans against the wall wondering what must have happened for T'Var to relinquish command. "Look, if you can contact me after the meeting, then do. I can contact the Yorktown now if you haven't and let them know your status."

"And Kylah, please make sure everyone is civil with the President. I'd hate for an incident like the one with the Hwuen to happen again."

***

Kylah's face burns with each icy word making its way through the communicator. She literally flinches at his first bitter comment about her secrecy, and his subsequent commands--which she vehemently disagrees with but cannot disobey--turn her back to stone.

But when he mentions the Hwuen incident, that frightening experience that represented just one of her multitude of mistakes on OC3, she has to reach out to the door handle and grip it for strength.

"Yes, sir," she says in a hoarse monotone, shutting her eyes tightly against the memories of touching that alien and nearly collapsing from the chaos. "I understand. You do not need to contact the ship. I have done so already." Suddenly weary, she starts to lean against the door--but then, from somewhere inside, a swell of anger rouses her into straightening up again.

"I will do my best to ensure that Dr. T'Var communicates with you in future, Ensign Rangin, as she is clearly the only trustworthy and competent member of our team. Now I must go or the armed guard outside will discover me. I do not think even you wish that. Kylah out."

She snaps the communicator shut without waiting his response, tucks it back into her sash, and leaves to turn off the sink tap. The rushing noise in her ears is no longer from the water, but the surging sorrow and resentment in her mind.

With one last look in the mirror--it is not a pleasant sight, but she does not care--she starts to exit the bathroom. At the last second she remembers the excuse she gave to the guard earlier, then bends down and uses a nail to rip a ladder in the sheer stocking on her left leg, below the sparkling blue-beaded garter. I need a reason for the sink as well, she thinks dully.

When she opens the door, she gives Mino a small, emotionless smile. "I am sorry it took so long, sir. Walking in this city made me feel terribly filthy, and I had to clean up. And I believe the vehicle caused the tear in my stocking." She lifts her skirt hem slightly to show the rip just beneath her lower thigh, then lets it fall quickly back in place. "Thank you for your patience."




Rangin by CIAS, Kylah by me

"Well who can argue with 'booze and broads,'" Graham replies. Although he's not entirely sure what Nia would think about 'broads.' At the same time he's wondering what Nia would look like in some of the old school Terran dresses her's seen around...

Good. I think, good.

"No problem, dollface," Mino says to Kylah, smiling and patting her on the ass as she walks by. "This way."

Kalo nods. "Yeah, OK. Maybe we'll have the chance to show you some of the nightlife once we find your guys, huh?"

Dr. T'Var, hearing this exchange, is carefully expressionless. Morris, for his part, does not look impressed.

The slap shocks Kylah into a emitting a gasp that is practically a squeak. Her face flames even hotter as she quickens her steps to a near-run, hugging herself the whole way.

When she returns to the outer reception area, she aims straight for Dr. T'Var, brushes her hand and establishes a brief, if rushed, mental connection with her. I spoke to Mr. Rangin. They are with Krako, who believes the president is responsible.

Breaking her gaze from the other woman, she shifts to Mr. Graham and moves close enough to slip her arm through his elbow--a move driven by the instinct that these thugs will abide by some male code of ownership. Perhaps if they believe she is linked to the team's leader, she will not be treated so disrespectfully.

She despises the fact that she is probably right.

Her fingers tighten on the muscle she feels through Graham's sleeve, squeezing twice before she lifts her still-heated face to him. Somehow she needs to speak to him in private, but she has no idea how to communicate this short of praying he understands.

Rangin hears ths call go dead and he puts the communicator away wondering what has gotten into Kylah. No, not just Kylah but the entire other group. When Collins is being the sensible one on this planet you know things are five ways from fubar.

Shaking his head and muttering darkly under his breath on the news he has just heard, Rangin turns back into the bedroom to see what results they have. He can feel his face drawn tight in anger and he tries to put it out of his forethoughts and concentrate on the problem at hand. Being annoyed in this situation will only get people hurt.

He ignores Zebo and looks at the details from the tricorders. He smiles at Collins as he reads the results. "Good work, these look promising. What do you think we should do next?" he asks his colleague, "I was thinking of tapping their comms if they have any but any suggestions would be useful."

T'Var quickly thinks, and Kylah senses, Understood, and thank you. We must tread carefully.

Kalo asks, "So, Doc, you wanna go to the powder room now?"

"No, thank you," she says. "I believe I will wait until later. I do not wish to keep the President waiting."

He looks at her for a moment, then shrugs. "Suit yourself." He nods at the two hulking guards, one of whom raps gently with his knuckles on the door, and opens it.

You walk into a massive, gleaming office, easily four times the size of the Yorktown's Bridge. A giant oil painting of Bela Okmyx, in a dark suit and with a cape thrown dramatically over his shoulder, looking equally dramatically off into the distance, hangs over the large fireplace. The office also boasts a huge, ornate wooden desk; a cluster of overstuffed chairs grouped around a coffee table; a long conference table with two dozen matching chairs; and a pool table with cues hanging on the nearest wall. The decor matches the rest of the building; everything is gleaming and bright.

Standing before you with his arms wide and a big smile on his face is Okmyx himself, looking a little older and more careworn than in his outsized portrait.

"Here you are!" he says with gusto. "Here's our friends from the Federation!"

http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Bela_Okmyx

Graham's a little surprised by Morris' expression. Granted, if he himself were a known quantity there'd be no excuse for that kind of talk, but as an outsider trying to get an angle on Kalo and perhaps some connections that shake lose some intel...

Well, no time to explain now.

He's more surprised by Kylah's actions. He's...

Wait...

She was alone with this goon... He glances at her, and then her "escort."

If anything happened to her, all bets are off...

No, nothing looks out of place. And they wouldn't accost someone being escorted to see the president...

Maybe we're making some progress here, he thinks. She trusts me at least a little...

He's not sure if she's anxious about pulling her weight or not, but his thoughts as she squeezes his arm are clear.

I'd proud of you.

He's glad he can't actually say it out loud because she might find it condescending. But its what he has in mind as he reaches across with his other hand and gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

"Friendship is a good thing, Mr. President," Graham replies, taking a step forward with Kylah's arm deliberately still in his. "We're honored you've invited us to speak with you face-to-face," he says pleasantly enough without irony or sarcasm, but with a slight glance toward the armed goons surrounding them.

"Sure, sure!" Okmyx says. "Glad to have you all here. Mr. Morris I know - good to see you again, pal, and glad you didn't get snatched with the others."

Morris nods politely but doesn't smile.

Okmyx goes on, speaking to Graham, still beaming, "And who is this lovely lady on your arm? And another beauty here, a Vulcan, I understand...?"

Kylah feels comforted by Mr. Graham's gesture, and certainly safer by his side. It is difficult to ignore the secret she is keeping from him at Mr. Rangin's order.

When they are greeted by Okmyx, she nods her head modestly and waits to be allowed to speak. The president does not appear to know their names--should she be the one to introduce Mr. Graham to him? The man seems to think she has no voice of her own.

But Kylah's main worry is that Mr. Graham will give his rank; a mere ensign might be looked on as not worthy of respect. Worse, it might be seen as disrespect on the part of Starfleet, to have sent a lower-ranked officer as its representative. Even though we did not know we would be meeting him, he could be insulted. We cannot expect rationality from these... these vulgar brutes, she thinks, revisiting the dark mental image of the blood streaming down that poor old man's face down in the lobby.

"If you please, Mr. President," she says with a slight dip, not quite a curtsey but still a gesture of humility. Her free hand gestures gracefully toward Mr. Graham. "May I present Booker Graham? He is our Team Commander, from Earth, and is a security expert on our starship. The Vulcan you speak of is Lieutenant T'Var, our ship's highly esteemed doctor."

She lets her hand fall back to her side. "And I am Kylah, sir, from Elas, a planet that just joined the Federation a few short months ago. I am only an Ensign, very fortunate indeed to have been selected--" Kylah glances up at Graham, as if he were the one to choose to bring his 'dame' on the mission, and then returns to Okmyx with a small smile. "--And to have the unexpected opportunity to meet the famous leader of Sigma Iotia II."

Belatedly she adds, "Oh! Forgive me, I did not explain... My own specialties are communications and protocol. It is my job to assist the Team Commander in whatever way is needed to facilitate mutual understanding." Her gaze focuses intently on the president while she tries both to flatter him and, more importantly, to glean some empathic sense of his sincerity.

"Charmed," Okmyx says as he takes and lightly, gallantly kisses the hands of both Kylah and T'Var. Kylah has an empathic sense of the President's surface charm, but very little sincerity, for more than anything she perceives his steely resolve and ruthless ambition. He did not get where he is by being a pushover.

"I doubt they have comms," Collins says pensively, her back to Zebo, "They used to use a bulky analog device but I remember reading something about tapped wires?"

"We're fortunate too...enjoy...theveyrbestonboard Yorktown," Graham says, straightening his posture and in the process fully filling out his chest as he gestures a bit as if toward the ship with his free hand. Then he gives Kylah a quick glance and a part on the arm..

"And...I can see that you do, too." He nods his head in the direction of where they entered. "It's...unfortunate...we should be meeting under the present distressing circumstances."

Who the hell do I...I sound just like Captain James Kirk, he realizes, remembering vids of briefings and interviews of the famous captain.

Well, I'm just trying some gangster-like bravado and...Well, Kirk did basically re-order the entire fucking planet so maybe that's a good thing...

Zabo says, "Are you two yakkin' about phones? Telephones?"

Okmyx chuckles ruefully. "Yeah, that's true. Well, come on, sit down. Let's talk - see if we can help each other out. Hey, you want anything to drink?"

"Yeah, guess so," says Rangin over his shoulder as he turns to face the mobster. "If they are holed up for a while, they're going to make some calls sooner or later. Even if its just for a delivery of food." He shrugs as if the info it could gain is not important but merely useful. "If we can get an idea of what they are on about, short of going next door and putting a glass on the wall, it all helps." He stops shakes his head, he is starting to ramble on slightly, "What I mean is yes, and if you can subvert them, good."

He looks back down at the readings, "Then again, from these, I think we can guess who are kidnappers are, and who the victims are." Thinking back over the tricorders, he wonders if the Yorktown's sensors would be any better but given the closeness of the humanoid types, it would be tricky to differentiate between them. But, if there is a group of seven in a close confined space, that did call for one other possibility.

"If they are not moving around much, I wonder if we could just transport the group out in one go? What do you think?" Rangin turns and poses the question to Collins.

"To where? The ship?" Collins almost smirks. The captain would love that. "Pointless unless the sensors can tell the difference between Iotians and Terrans. That is, if the task force is all Terran. Could be others involved, right?"

She thinks for a moment and adds "Aren't we trying to minimize the outside influences?"

Zabo says, "I could try to line up a phone tap for you, if you want, but I dunno when they might use the phone. Can't you do anything better - or quicker - with those space-doodads of yours?"

Kylah tries not to be concerned by Mr. Graham's sudden odd change in speech pattern. She wonders what his plan is, and what Okmyx really wants from them all.

The knowledge that the hostages have been found--so it seems--weighs heavily on her. Is this not a waste of time? Ensuring the CAG group's safety was the primary goal of this mission. If that has been done, what else are they here for? Why are they not being ordered to join the rest?

Mr. Graham and Dr. T'Var should be part of a rescue; they would be of great use. Kylah remembers how deadly Dr. T'Var's shooting was back on the Sakathian station, and Mr. Graham obviously knows battle tactics. Besides, surely any conflict would be short-lived. The Iotians' ancient weapons are no match for phasers. If I could just tell Mr. Graham, we might be able to join the others...

But Mr. Rangin most emphatically did not want that. Why? Does he hate Mr. Graham so much? Or just me? Kylah blinks in dismay at the notion and tries to concentrate on the President, though she cannot avoid this train of thought. Does he want all the credit? To prove... something?

Kylah purses her lips and gives an imperceptible shake of her head. It is probably best to stay here for now. Leaving might alert the President that they know something. And--if Okmyx is indeed responsible--he could contact the kidnappers to warn them ahead of time.

So there is nothing for her to do but murmur a "no, thank you" to the President's offer of drink. She would not dare ingest anything served by what she perceives is a canny, dangerous man. And with a relatively hard squeeze of Mr. Graham's arm, she hopes to prevent him from accepting either... though she strongly suspects he does not need the warning.

Collins turns to face Zebo. He amuses her. "These 'space doodads' work best on other 'space doodads'. The level of tech, uh, mechanical and electronic things, used here are more difficult. Mind if we call the ship for assistance?"

Zabo (not Zebo) says, "Sure, go ahead."

T'Var and Morris also decline Okmyx's offer of a drink. He pours himself a big glass of what looks like Scotch from a collection of elegant glass bottles on a sideboard, then waves you into the big, comfortable chairs around the coffee table. Kalo stands watchfully nearby. One of the guards outside closes the doors to the huge office, leaving you alone.

"So," Okmyx says, sitting down and picking an imaginary piece of lint from his immaculate suit. "What can we do to help you find your guys? Kidnapping, that's terrible. Just terrible. You know I want to keep the Federation happy. Kirk, he helped us set up the Syndicate, and it's been great. Things have never been better around here."

As with past interviews/interrogations, ask Okmyx as many questions as you want, all in a row, and he'll respond as if it were a conversation.

Graham declines the offered drink "given we're on duty."

He forces himself not to react to the squeeze of his arm--wondering if he's missing something she's keyed in on. He can't identify anything, but given how confident she's been lately, he's sure she'll speak up if needed.

He nods at the invitation to sit and gestures for the other members of the team to do so. Sticking with the act, he leads Kylah to a seat next to where he wants to sit, gestures that she should sit and offers to gallantly holds her hand as she does so.

Then he sits himself. He rubs his chin in response to Okmyx' comment.

"That's good to hear, Mr. President." He frowns slightly. "if things are so good, you would think everyone would want to keep the Federation happy. Do you know of anyone who might not?"

"With your permission?" Collins asks Rangin as she reaches into her bag for her communicator.

Okmyx says in disgust, "Everybody who wants to be in my shoes. Everybody who wants to get a piece of my action: Krako, Tepo, Molyx, Folyx, Zatto and who knows who else. All of 'em but Krako, they want the Syndicate to keep going - they just wanna be the top guy."

While nodding at Okmyx's answer--and doing her best to memorize the litany of names until she can take note of them later--Kylah glances at Mr. Graham and wonders if it would be prudent for her to speak without permission. She hesitates before murmuring a deferential "If you please, sir, may I...?" Then, if Mr. Graham indicates she is free to speak, she looks back at the Iotian leader. All she knows right now is that she must act as if she does not know where these hostages have been taken.

"I would like to go backwards to the specifics, if that is all right, Mr. President.

- "When did you--or one of your underlings--last have any contact with the CAG members who are now missing? And what was the contact regarding?"

- "How and when did you learn that the CAG members had disappeared? Was there a witness?"

- "As the leader of the Syndicate who wishes to maintain good relations with the Federation, you were obviously concerned by this disappearance. Have you taken any measures to locate them or identify the perpetrators? We do not want to duplicate your efforts," she adds tactfully.

- "I believe there are regional gangs and bosses in charge of various locations, and they function as... enforcers of, well, not the law, but... whatever standards of behavior you require. Who is the boss responsible for the territory in which the CAG headquarters is located? Of course, it is not far from here... is there anyone, besides yourself? And if so, may we speak with him or--with him?" She barely catches herself before saying or her, realizing it is unlikely that a woman would be in such a position.

- "This Krako; I understand he is your second-in-command... What led him to turn against the Syndicate?"

- "...And if he wishes to be in your shoes but does not want the Syndicate to continue, what precisely does he want instead? How would that be facilitated by capturing members of the Federation?"

- "We are desperately hoping to find our Federation colleagues alive and well. Do you believe them to be--" Kylah cuts off her words and makes her voice quaver slightly with worry. "Do you think they have come to harm?"

- "No doubt you have eyes and ears almost everywhere, sir, but you do mention that you have some rivals, and possibly they have followers too. Do you know of any... well, gathering places... where such upstarts and cohorts--if any--might congregate?"

- "I am not experienced with kidnapping--" Suddenly Kylah nearly loses her train of thought, and her nervous act turns into reality when she realizes that yes, she actually is experienced in such a thing. Her face turns warm and she forces the memories of Anubis away. "But... but I believe there is usually some ransom, reward or demand involved. Despite this, we have had no contact from them, which is troubling. As someone who has lived in a land where such things are commonplace, your expertise is invaluable. Why would someone snatch these CAG members, who seem to have had nothing especially valuable except their own knowledge, without telling us what they want?"

Kylah will, of course, wait for each answer and allow Mr. Graham the opportunity to take over as the only experienced investigator on the team.

Rangin muses on the problems for a moment. "I hate mights and maybes and possiblys. I've no intention of running in causing havoc unless we know exactly what we are getting into."

He nods to Collins. "Do it. See if the Yorktown sensors can get a better reading on that room and check the possibility of a transport out."

He then looks across at Zabo. "I'd still like to get an eyeball on the people in that room. Confirm visually it's the group we're looking for. Any good ideas, other than going up and knocking on the door?"

Collins nods and opens her communicator. "Collins to Yorktown. We could use a little help from the ship's sensors."

Kylah asks, "When did you--or one of your underlings--last have any contact with the CAG members who are now missing? And what was the contact regarding?"

The President gestures to Morris. "It was just a day or two earlier, wasn't it? You and two of the others attended a Syndicate board meeting. Nothing out of the ordinary said or done, as I recall."

Morris nods.

"How and when did you learn that the CAG members had disappeared? Was there a witness?"

"Pretty soon - like an hour or two later, maybe. There were a couple of witnesses to the snatch, people on the street. Word got to me real fast. This is a big deal."

"As the leader of the Syndicate who wishes to maintain good relations with the Federation, you were obviously concerned by this disappearance. Have you taken any measures to locate them or identify the perpetrators? We do not want to duplicate your efforts."

"Oh, sure, I got my boys looking all over, sweetheart. This is a top priority. Top! They've been pretty well-hidden, though, if they ain't already dead. So far we've come up with real little, I'm sorry to say. But it ain't for lack of tryin'."

"I believe there are regional gangs and bosses in charge of various locations, and they function as... enforcers of, well, not the law, but... whatever standards of behavior you require. Who is the boss responsible for the territory in which the CAG headquarters is located? Of course, it is not far from here... is there anyone, besides yourself? And if so, may we speak with him or--with him?"

Okmyx sticks his jaw out. "It happened right here in my own territory, honey. That's what really sticks in my craw. But they won't get away with it, believe you me."

"This Krako; I understand he is your second-in-command... What led him to turn against the Syndicate?"

He scoffs. "Krako's the Syndicate chairman of the board; that's nothing. Kalo's my second-in-command, my strong right arm. Right, Kalo?"

"Right, boss," the mook says, smiling with satisfaction.

Okmyx goes on, jabbing his finger, "Kirk wanted me to throw a bone to Krako, is all, when I became the President. He's got his head filled with all this Starfleety stuff - no offense - and he's turned his back on The Book. That just ain't right, I think. Crazy talk from a crazy man."

"...And if he wishes to be in your shoes but does not want the Syndicate to continue, what precisely does he want instead? How would that be facilitated by capturing members of the Federation?"

Okmyx says, "He wants a Federation here, right here on our world. He'd end the Syndicate. Says he wants to be 'Captain.' That's just nuts, if you ask me. The Book shows us the way - with the Syndicate, it'll only get better. We're just not ready for Federation stuff, not yet - not for a long time."

"We are desperately hoping to find our Federation colleagues alive and well. Do you believe them to be--" "Do you think they have come to harm?"

He turns somber. "It's possible. Like I said, it's been so hard to find them, I think maybe somebody already snuffed 'em, honey. Hope not, though."

"No doubt you have eyes and ears almost everywhere, sir, but you do mention that you have some rivals, and possibly they have followers too. Do you know of any... well, gathering places... where such upstarts and cohorts--if any--might congregate?"

"Sure, sure. A hundred of 'em. And we've checked 'em all. So far, nothing."

"I am not experienced with kidnapping--" "But... but I believe there is usually some ransom, reward or demand involved. Despite this, we have had no contact from them, which is troubling. As someone who has lived in a land where such things are commonplace, your expertise is invaluable. Why would someone snatch these CAG members, who seem to have had nothing especially valuable except their own knowledge, without telling us what they want?"

He takes a drink and shakes his head. "You got me, sweetheart. I'm as baffled as you are. There's been no ransom demand, nothing like that. That's partly what makes me wonder if maybe they've already been ventilated."



Zabo rubs his chin and says to Rangin, "Uh... I dunno. Maybe drill or poke a tiny hole in the wall to take a peek?"

"Yorktown here," comes the response to Collins. "This is Science Officer Roble. What can we do for you, Lieutenant?"

"Rangin took some readings," Collins tells Roble, "but our tricorders aren't as fine tuned as the ship's sensors. Could you tell who in a room at these coordinates", Collins taps the numbers based on their location and where Zabo indicated the suspects and victims likely are, "is Iotian and who is Terran or other?"

After initially nodding his approval for Kylah to ask her questions, he states "Excellent questions, Mist--, ah Miss Kylah." Graham says after Omkyx answers.

"And thank you your efforts so far, Mr. President," he adds.

"You said Krako wants to be the "Captain' of a 'Federation' here. Any idea how that happened, Mr. President?...or...Mr. Morris?"

"How's Krako been pushing his Feddy captain agenda...is there risk of armed conflict?"

The fact that the kidnappers took a computer rather than weapons nags at Graham. What could they want that for?

See post 168.

Roble says, "Stand by. Beginning scan now." After half a minute or so he says, "There are seven people in the apartment, but it's impossible, given their common human genome, to tell the Iotians from the Terrans."

Graham says, "You said Krako wants to be the 'Captain' of a 'Federation' here. Any idea how that happened, Mr. President?...or...Mr. Morris?"

Okmyx replies, "You know, he's the only guy to actually go up to Kirk's ship. To tell you the truth, I think it changed him - turned his head - made him a little cuckoo. Or a lot cuckoo. He knows he'll never run the Syndicate, and now he wants to try something else to become the top guy."

Morris says slowly, "It could be something like that. He is very ambitious and also very impressed, or so he says, by our Federation and its technology."

"How's Krako been pushing his Feddy captain agenda...is there risk of armed conflict?"

"Well, it's just now coming out into the open," Okmyx says. "He just had a big rally earlier today, and his people are out there, wearing uniforms and pretending to be Feddies. But my sources tell me he's been laying the groundwork for awhile. And armed conflict? You bet your ass, especially if he thinks he's gonna try to make a move on me or the Syndicate." He jabs his finger again. "Over my dead body!"

Though the majority of President Okmyx's responses are of little value since he claims such ignorance of a major crime that occurred right under his nose, Kylah cannot help a slight lowering of her brows in a frown when she ponders the timeline of the capture, as Okmyx has just given it.

So... only a half-hour earlier, Lt. Morris and two of his kidnapped colleagues had been here. And yet somehow they were separated, fortuitously enabling Lt. Morris to avoid capture.

Her mind reaches into her earlier conversation with the historian. He most certainly did not tell us about this meeting. In fact, he claimed to have been doing field research before returning home... alone. Only thirty minutes of research? Letting him arrive just in time to view the kidnapping?

And the President seems to have known about those costume-wearing Federation worshippers, not to mention that Mr. Krako has seemingly split off from the Syndicate altogether. Why was Krako's defection news to Lt. Morris, if he previously dealt with him?

With a miniscule shake of her head, she sets these aside in a 'Questions to ask Morris' box, to be opened at a later time once they are alone. To be honest, she wishes they were interviewing the president without Morris here at all. It might have been valuable to compare their answers.

She focuses on Okmyx's emotions again. How is he dealing with this interview thus far? She tries to keep a close 'eye' on anything that sparks any fluctuations in his overall mood, to the degree that she can.

Now, in response to Okmyx's last words, Kylah tries to smile. "Let us hope that will not be necessary," she says smoothly. "Now that Mr. Krako has left your organization, I am sure the rest of your men are loyal believers of The Book. Mr. Kalo is an able right-hand man. Although you must have several in the lower ranks who are just as loyal..."

Crossing her legs, she tilts her head and examines the president with interest. "Which makes me wonder, Mr. President. What little I know of the organizational hierarchy explained in The Book indicated that such gangs are often ruled by families. Just to broaden my knowledge of your culture, is that still true? Do you have any children--well, sons--who are following in your footsteps?"

"Although Mr. Krako is clearly wrongheaded in thinking the planet is ready to join the Federation, you do seem to think it might be, someday. You have seen some of our technology, I believe. It must have sparked your curiosity, perhaps even your ambition to acquire some. Did you ever ask the CAG to teach you about the various gadgets and devices in their possession? Mr. Kalo and his men seemed quite adept at dealing with the Federation security locks on the CAG's apartment door." She smiles again in appreciation.

"Who were the other two CAG members who met with you? Would you say you were on good terms with all the CAG members? Their research and studies did not cause trouble for you, I hope. The Federation tries to be as unobtrusive as possible... Even if you had a good working relationship, do you know of anyone who resented their staying here?"

"Do you think it would benefit us to speak directly with Mr. Krako? You would not object if we did, I hope?"

Kylah hesitates in thought. Morris's presence is troublesome in the extreme. She does not want to ask President questions that might reveal her mistrust of the lone remaining CAG member in front of the very man in question. And yet she cannot think of an excuse that would get Morris out of this meeting. Her mind works quickly. Well, if I cannot get Morris to leave, perhaps I can get the President's answers another way.

"If you will excuse an unrelated comment, Mr. President, I greatly admire your headquarters here. This building is perhaps the most elegant, beautiful one I have ever seen, outside of my home planet. No offense to the Terrans here," she says with a somewhat flippant dismissiveness. As she speaks, she toys absently with the clasp of the bejeweled bracelet on her wrist.

"And it is so very tall, it must have an extraordinary view of the city up on the roof or a balcony, if there is one. This is somewhat unorthodox, I admit, President Okmyx... and I do not want to take up too much of your time. But I do not suppose you would consider giving us a quick tour before we leave? You could point out some of the different sights to us--including some areas that might be good locations for us to search."

She hopes the president--not to mention, Mr. Graham!--will go along with this. If not, she has a contingency plan.

"Yeah," Collins tells Roble, "but it was worth a shot. How about listening in? Can you get anything?"

Kylah senses that Okmyx believes he's telling the truth... mostly. He is not above shading, spinning or omitting things that might not be in his self-interest, but so far she has not detected an outright lie.

She says, "Now that Mr. Krako has left your organization, I am sure the rest of your men are loyal believers of The Book. Mr. Kalo is an able right-hand man. Although you must have several in the lower ranks who are just as loyal..."

Okmyx puts in, "Well, Krako hasn't said outright that he's resigning as chairman of the board, but you bet your bottom dollar he'll be out if he doesn't shape up. And yeah, Kalo here is the best, just the best, but my whole crew is loyal. They'd better be."

"Which makes me wonder, Mr. President. What little I know of the organizational hierarchy explained in The Book indicated that such gangs are often ruled by families. Just to broaden my knowledge of your culture, is that still true? Do you have any children--well, sons--who are following in your footsteps?"

"Yeah, sure, family is important. Always good to have little ones to carry on after you're gone." He smiles. "I got three sons and three daughters. Two of my boys may go into the biz like their old man. We'll see."

Kylah continues, "Although Mr. Krako is clearly wrongheaded in thinking the planet is ready to join the Federation, you do seem to think it might be, someday. You have seen some of our technology, I believe. It must have sparked your curiosity, perhaps even your ambition to acquire some. Did you ever ask the CAG to teach you about the various gadgets and devices in their possession? Mr. Kalo and his men seemed quite adept at dealing with the Federation security locks on the CAG's apartment door."

Okmyx glances back at Kalo, who coughs into his hand and says, "We used our binoculars and saw them punch in the numbers to get in from across the street, Boss. Then we just did it ourselves."

The President nods. "Attaboy, Kalo - that's using the old noggin." He turns back to Kylah. "Sure, we'd love to have some of the Starfleet gizmos, but Kirk, and all the CAG folks since he left, kept saying we weren't ready, it was against the rules, Prime Directive, 'non-starfaring culture,' blah blah blah. So I stopped asking. All in good time, I guess. After all, I'm a patient man."

"Who were the other two CAG members who met with you? Would you say you were on good terms with all the CAG members? Their research and studies did not cause trouble for you, I hope. The Federation tries to be as unobtrusive as possible... Even if you had a good working relationship, do you know of anyone who resented their staying here?"

"Let's see...." He takes a drink and then looks at Morris. "Hmm. Hadley and Stenhall, wasn't it, at that last meeting?"

"Stendahl, yes," Morris says after a pause.

"Right, Stendahl. Sure, sure. Yeah, I get along fine with 'em. I wanna keep the Federation happy, you know? You want to study our culture and help us along, I get that. They did their work and kept their heads down; I never had no problems with 'em. But... some people did, sure. Some people - not me, and none of my people - well, they thought we should just stick to The Book and not be thinking of someday joining the Federation, not even a long time from now. 'Resentment' might a little strong, though. It never amounted to anything. Just some grumbling, really."

"Do you think it would benefit us to speak directly with Mr. Krako? You would not object if we did, I hope?"

He shrugs and extends his arms. "Anybody can talk to anybody, sweetie. It's a free planet. Just take what he says with a grain, hell, a pound or two of salt, you know?"

Kylah hesitates in thought. "If you will excuse an unrelated comment, Mr. President, I greatly admire your headquarters here. This building is perhaps the most elegant, beautiful one I have ever seen, outside of my home planet. No offense to the Terrans here."

He beams. "Well, thanks. I helped the architects with the plans a little. We want people to see how important the Syndicate is. The HQ oughta look good and be impressive, right? We're running the whole planet from here, after all."

She continues, "And it is so very tall, it must have an extraordinary view of the city up on the roof or a balcony, if there is one. This is somewhat unorthodox, I admit, President Okmyx... and I do not want to take up too much of your time. But I do not suppose you would consider giving us a quick tour before we leave? You could point out some of the different sights to us--including some areas that might be good locations for us to search."

He frowns. "You mean, search inside the building? Waste of time. Trust me, honey, even Krako isn't that stupid. Wherever your people are, they're not here."



Roble says from the Yorktown's Bridge, "Sensors show wiring, apparently for electricity and telephonic communications, in the apartment. Let me see if I can pick up any vibrations from them... stand by." After another minute he says, "There are some muted voices. Even with sensors set at max, though, I can't get anything intelligible. Their technology is quite crude."

Zabo crosses his arms.

Kylah expresses surprise. "Do you mean that you have allowed Mr. Krako to remain, despite his direct opposition to your beliefs and outright call for change? That is not what I would have expected, at least from what we know about your culture. If I may say so, sir, it takes a confident, strong leader to be so lenient and gracious. I am sincerely impressed, and hope such peace continues."

"You mention 'little ones' when speaking of your children. I suppose that means your sons are too young yet to join you? Is the third destined for a different sort of job? And..." She hesitates, as if shy. "Is there a First Lady of the Syndicate?"

Okmyx's response about the technology intrigues her. It does not seem as if he knows about Dr. McCoy's lost communicator. She leans forward. "I mentioned that I was impressed with your lenience. I am also impressed by your patience regarding the CAG's stance on our advanced devices. To be candid, after the Enterprise's visit, there was some concern that there might have been some unintentional impact on your society--not just philosophical, but technological. It could be dangerous if not handled with extreme care. So there has been no attempt to duplicate the various items Captain Kirk and the others possessed?"

The president's question to Lt. Morris, and the latter's brief pause before answering, pique Kylah's interest. She mulls over their earlier words, and suddenly wonders if she misunderstood about the timing the various events as far as Morris's activities are concerned. She switches her focus to Lt. Morris and eyes him. "Forgive me, I want to make sure I heard correctly. How far in advance of the kidnapping did you three from the CAG meet with the President?"

When Okmyx does his own misunderstanding of her request for the tour, she puts a hand to her chest and smiles. "No, I beg your pardon, Mr. President, I was unclear. I certainly trust that the missing people are not here--your men would have found them by now, I have no doubt. I meant that, if there is a view of the city from such a high vantage point, you might be able to show us the different districts, and any particular places that might be ideal for someone wishing to hide several hostages. We have a map, but your own perspective is unique."

She turns to Dr. T'Var. "Forgive me, I must not take up all your time--perhaps Dr. T'Var has some questions of her own...?" She then turns to Mr. Graham. Does he feel the same as she does--that this meeting seems to be getting them absolutely nowhere?

Graham hopes Okmyx doesn't turn out to be a bad actor because he finds himself kind of liking the guy.

And he's deeply impressed by Kylah's playing the role she set up in the introductions to a tee...

What's changed?

Maybe keep her away from assholes like Rangin and that rich shit head on OCIII is the simple answer....

When there's an opportune moment, Graham interjects: "The meeting with the CAG..." he glances at Okmyx and back to Morris. "What kind of things have you been discussing with the CAG, Mr. President? Anything that might alarm Krako or the 'grumblers' who don't like the Federation's influence?"

He takes Kylah's suggestion as looking for an "out." Either Okmyx is a good liar, or he doesn't know where the kindappees are or who did it...

In which case we need to figure out where to start looking or who else to talk to, he thinks.

He follows on her last explanation: "As, ah, I think you may know, or ship can scan for...stuff...from orbit. If you were able to suggest some specific places, Mr. President..." He shrugs. "A Krako-friendly area, or places where folks might hole up if they want to lay low...we could focus the ship's sensors there."

Kylah asks, "Do you mean that you have allowed Mr. Krako to remain, despite his direct opposition to your beliefs and outright call for change? That is not what I would have expected, at least from what we know about your culture. If I may say so, sir, it takes a confident, strong leader to be so lenient and gracious. I am sincerely impressed, and hope such peace continues."

Okmyx shrugs. "Ah, don't mention it. Krako's been bitching and moaning for awhile, but he only started talking about this local Federation stuff recently. Real recently. Saying he was a captain and not a capo, you know. Stupid stuff. Now we'll see where he goes with it."

She continues, "You mention 'little ones' when speaking of your children. I suppose that means your sons are too young yet to join you? Is the third destined for a different sort of job? And..." She hesitates, as if shy. "Is there a First Lady of the Syndicate?"

"All of my sons are old enough now, and two of them, they're, you know, kind of starting out. The third... not worth talking about." His face hardens. "And my late wife is off-limits, too. I don't wanna talk about her."

"I mentioned that I was impressed with your lenience. I am also impressed by your patience regarding the CAG's stance on our advanced devices. To be candid, after the Enterprise's visit, there was some concern that there might have been some unintentional impact on your society--not just philosophical, but technological. It could be dangerous if not handled with extreme care. So there has been no attempt to duplicate the various items Captain Kirk and the others possessed?"

"Well, that doctor fella left behind his radio, right? They came right back and asked for it, but we didn't have it. Don't know what happened to it, and our tech just isn't up to your standards, 'way behind, the eggheads tell me, so I don't know what we could've done with it even if we had it."

Kylah switches her focus to Lt. Morris and eyes him. "Forgive me, I want to make sure I heard correctly. How far in advance of the kidnapping did you three from the CAG meet with the President?"

The Potemkin officer says, "It was a Syndicate board meeting, not just with President Okmyx, and it was two days before the kidnapping."

When Okmyx does his own misunderstanding of her request for the tour, she puts a hand to her chest and smiles. "No, I beg your pardon, Mr. President, I was unclear. I certainly trust that the missing people are not here--your men would have found them by now, I have no doubt. I meant that, if there is a view of the city from such a high vantage point, you might be able to show us the different districts, and any particular places that might be ideal for someone wishing to hide several hostages. We have a map, but your own perspective is unique."

Okmyx says easily, "I'm no tour guide, but I can have somebody show you around, sure. The balcony's right out there." He gestures.

Kylah turns to Dr. T'Var. "Forgive me, I must not take up all your time--perhaps Dr. T'Var has some questions of her own...?"

"I think you have covered the issues quite well, Ensign," the Vulcan healer says. "I do not believe I have any questions I wish to ask at this time."

Graham interjects: "The meeting with the CAG..." he glances at Okmyx and back to Morris. "What kind of things have you been discussing with the CAG, Mr. President? Anything that might alarm Krako or the 'grumblers' who don't like the Federation's influence?"

Okmyx shakes his head. "No, I don't think so. Krako wasn't there, but one of his boys was as, whaddyacallit, his proxy. We were talking about the budget, and a new bridge to the East Side, and some other stuff. Nothing too controversial, as I said. I don't even think the Federation - you guys - even came up."

The Yorktown Security officer follows up on Kylah's last explanation: "As, ah, I think you may know, or ship can scan for...stuff...from orbit. If you were able to suggest some specific places, Mr. President..." He shrugs. "A Krako-friendly area, or places where folks might hole up if they want to lay low...we could focus the ship's sensors there."

Okmyx brightens. "Hey, that's a good idea. Kalo, get me a map, would ya...?"

The henchman moves off to a document cabinet.

Kylah notes the firmness with which President Okmyx cuts off discussion of his third son--this must be the one Lt. Morris told them of, whom he thought he'd seen as part of the gang abducting the CAG. Clegg? Gredd? I will have to check my notes, she thinks while the president continues. At the reference to his wife, she lifts a hand to her mouth, genuinely embarrassed.

"Oh, Mr. President, please forgive me. I had no intent to--I only meant to ask if you were married. The grief from such a loss cannot be adequately expressed, nor shared except by a rare few. But I am terribly sorry just the same. Even if it was long ago, time does not always heal wounds."

She drops her hand back in her lap. Lt. Morris's explanation of the meeting schedule clears up her misunderstanding. She is still interested in asking some private questions away from the lone free CAG member... although now, she suspects that Kalo will be a better resource than Okmyx. How she can possibly engineer that---getting Kalo alone--she has no idea.

An idea forms when Okmyx mentions the balcony. "I would like a look out there, if you do not mind, sir. Perhaps, if you can spare him for a few moments when we are through here, Mr. Kalo would be willing to join me?" She lifts her gaze to stare with interest at the goon in question. "He could point out some of your city's landmarks."

After Mr. Graham's adroit questions, a belated thought strikes her. "Before I forget, President Okmyx, you mentioned that there were witnesses to the incident who reported it. May we have their names, so that we can hear their accounts first-hand?"

She is glad that Mr. Graham has moved the discussion back to Mr. Krako and his whereabouts. That is, after all, where the other half of the team is, and she knows they must join one another. It allows her to nod at him and touch his hand. In a tone much like a mistress asking a favor from a wealthy paramour, she says with gentle emphasis, "Oh yes, if the President can point us in the right direction, I would very much like to see this Mr. Krako person, if it is agreeable to you, Mr. Graham."

"Oh, Mr. President, please forgive me. I had no intent to--I only meant to ask if you were married. The grief from such a loss cannot be adequately expressed, nor shared except by a rare few. But I am terribly sorry just the same. Even if it was long ago, time does not always heal wounds."

He waves it away. "Don't worry about it. You couldn't have known, and it was awhile ago," he says, a little gruffly.

She says, "I would like a look out there, if you do not mind, sir. Perhaps, if you can spare him for a few moments when we are through here, Mr. Kalo would be willing to join me?" She lifts her gaze to stare with interest at the goon in question. "He could point out some of your city's landmarks."

Kalo nods. "Sure. I was born here. I know the city like the back of my hand."

"Before I forget, President Okmyx, you mentioned that there were witnesses to the incident who reported it. May we have their names, so that we can hear their accounts first-hand?"

"OK. Kalo, get those names for the lady, would you?"

"Sure, boss."

In a tone much like a mistress asking a favor from a wealthy paramour, she says with gentle emphasis, "Oh yes, if the President can point us in the right direction, I would very much like to see this Mr. Krako person, if it is agreeable to you, Mr. Graham."

I only meant to ask if you were married. The grief from such a loss cannot be adequately expressed, nor shared except by a rare few. But I am terribly sorry just the same. Even if it was long ago, time does not always heal wounds."

Graham's listening carefully to Kylah's questions and Okymyx' answers. He's done escort duty with diplomatic corps officers twice her age who haven't done as well interacting with a head of state on a sensitive topic.

And then this.

Perfectly said.

Is this why I kind of like the guy? A planet like this...good odds she was murdered...his fault? Are we both damned souls riding in the same damn boat..?

"Of course it is," Graham replies, feeling her touch as if from far away, but forcing himself to stick to the set up of being his own mini-capo of the team. It takes a great effort but he moves his other hand, feeling as if it weighs a ton, to lightly tap the back of hers.

Small blessings: that grief isn't transmitted through the skin.

You did very well. Better than you know or I can explain right now, he thinks.

He fixes his gaze firmly on Okmyx, and speaks with corresponding authority. "I'd like to thank you for your forthrightness and hospitality, Mr. President. Our captain--a real Federation captain--will hear about it."

Okmyx is all smiles. "Hey, sure. Thanks, pal. It's a helluva situation, and we want your people back as bad as you do. We'll be sure to keep looking, and Kalo will be my guy to keep you posted."

An aide enters and speaks quietly to the President, who says to you, "Looks like I've gotta run. Good luck, huh?" He shakes hands all around, and leaves.

Kalo gestures towards the balcony. "You wanted to have a look over the city...?"

Kylah's gaze has been open and admiring when seeking permission from Mr. Graham, in accordance with the dynamic she has created. It is only because she is staring so closely at him that she senses that something discordant, something curiously weighty, is brewing within the team's leader. She blinks in surprise and, automatically and without thought, tries to home in more closely.

One second more and her conscience would kick in; she would realize she is prying where she has no business. But then Graham reaches to touch her hand.

guilt sorrow isolation loathing emptiness compassion anger grief control control control

The flood, so brief but so overwhelming, freezes the breath in her lungs, and her mouth parts wordlessly. She can only stare at him, dumbstruck by this unexpected emotional transmission. When his fingers brush past contact with her skin and he looks away again, Kylah pulls her hand into her lap, clasping it tightly. Protectively. She is concerned by and afraid of what she just experienced. What he just experienced. And why.

And she is ashamed. Whatever that was, it was private. Aside from what was almost certainly an unintentional, unconscious revelation of something deep and dark in his eyes, Graham made no attempt at all to indicate there was anything but the mission on his mind. All that control, all that forced restraint, she thinks with a sympathetic shudder. She'd felt layers upon layers of it. But she felt places where the shield was thin and worn. Vulnerable cracks in the armor--there had to be, or the rest would not have bled through.

Somehow she must drag herself back to business, just as he did with such apparent ease. She thanks the president with a respectful nod, then hears Kalo's invitation toward the balcony. With the president gone, she realizes there is even less chance of her getting time alone. Think, she demands of her chaotic mind. Think!

The map. The map, perhaps...

She stands up and moves slightly toward T'Var while looking overtly at Graham. The other ensign might fathom the meaning behind her words; the doctor will hear it directly. Hopefully the two of them will be enough. She gently lays a hand on T'Var's wrist as if merely trying to get her attention. "Doctor.. Mr. Graham... perhaps, while I take a look at the view, you two and Lt. Morris can examine the map more closely and decide upon our next course of action? As you can probably imagine," she adds to Mr. Kalo with a self-deprecating shrug, "I am not well suited to tactical discussions."

Then she looks back at T'Var, fingers still in contact with the other woman's wrist. Please, Kalo might be more open alone. I need Lt. Morris occupied. Can you keep him here? Her eyes shift to Graham again in hopes that even without explanation, he will trust that she has a plan. Even if she does get Kalo alone, the conversation will probably go nowhere--indeed, she would be astonished if it did not fail, given her dismal record lately--but surely once, just once, she might succeed.

T'Var thinks, and Kylah "hears," Of course. Go ahead.

Kalo spreads out a large municipal map on the conference table, and briefly points out key locations on it, including the Syndicate HQ near the center, and the territories of the various bosses such as Krako, Tepo, Molyx, Folyx, Zatto and a half-dozen others.

He then leads Kylah out onto the balcony. The view is magnificent, for many kilometers in every direction, to the edges of the city and the forests and farmland beyond. A distant snow-capped mountain range to the west is just visible on the horizon. Kalo points out the same areas in the city as shown on the map.

Graham chuckles--he suspects it might sound something like an empty soulless rattle, but he's not trying to win...what were they called on Earth? An Emmy?

He gets the idea of splitting up Morris and Kalo (or Omyx, or any of them)...Morris conspicuous absence from being kidnapped is weighing on him.

"So, Mo-mo...uh, sorry, Lt. Morris--any of these areas on the map or the bosses jump out at you? Anyone the CAG was particularly comfortable with--or the opposite?"

"This is a beautiful land," Kylah says quietly once Kalo has finished. The compliment is quite sincere; it has been a while since she has seen this much variety in a territory landscape--not since the brief leave the crew was granted after the Sakathian mission.

After a brief silence admiring the view, she looks up at Kalo. "I did genuinely want to see this, Mr. Kalo. But I also wanted to speak to you alone. Not just alone, but confidentially. I will not tell the President anything of this, if I should happen to see him again." She searches his gaze to gauge his reactions. "You have a sense of honor and duty toward him, do you not? More so than the others he mentioned... those who wish to take his place, I mean."

She steps a little closer and, after a cautionary glance to make sure the others inside are still occupied, lowers her voice. "Since the Enterprise left your planet, all we know of the Syndicate and your society comes from the CAG's reports. That and the newer information Lt. Morris has given us, once we landed. But I am wary of taking things at face value, from only a single viewpoint. To be blunt, I am not certain Lt. Morris has been entirely candid with us."

Kylah hesitates while trying to think of how best to phrase her question. "Your... casual demeanor toward Lt. Morris earlier... The nickname you gave him did not seem entirely friendly. Do you have a reason to dislike the man? Or were you trying to convey a message?"

"To the extent that you may have seen the interactions among the CAG... did you notice any tensions there?"

"Have you heard rumors of Lt. Morris or any of the CAG members getting privately involved with the various rivalries within the Syndicate? Either Mr. Krako or any of the others whom the President described as--as wanting a piece of his action?"

Kylah will wait for his answers before broaching the far touchier subject she needs to address with the president's associate.

Morris rubs his chin. He thinks and then carefully replies to Graham, "It's hard to say. I think Okmyx was right. Any of the other capos, other bosses, might want to make a run at him. Embarrassing him, kidnapping a Starfleet unit under his very nose, would make him look really bad to us, and weaken his standing among the underbosses. But it's certainly possible Okmyx might himself try to force the Federation offworld. He says he likes the Syndicate, but I have to admit, I've never completely believed him. He's on top now, but always subject to our oversight. Our restraints, and our pursestrings. He might, deep down, want to return to the days when we weren't around. It's unrealistic, he ought to know that we won't leave, not for good, but maybe he thinks we'll get tired or frightened or unwilling to lose more people."

On the balcony, Kalo leans against the railing.

"...You have a sense of honor and duty toward him, do you not?" Kylah asks. "More so than the others he mentioned... those who wish to take his place, I mean."

"Absolutely," Kalo says firmly. "He knows I work for him, and him alone. I'm loyal and I always will be. I never wanted to be the boss myself; I know I'm not the right guy for that."

She steps a little closer and, after a cautionary glance to make sure the others inside are still occupied, lowers her voice. "Since the Enterprise left your planet, all we know of the Syndicate and your society comes from the CAG's reports. That and the newer information Lt. Morris has given us, once we landed. But I am wary of taking things at face value, from only a single viewpoint. To be blunt, I am not certain Lt. Morris has been entirely candid with us."

He looks at her. "I'd say that's between you and him, missy."

Kylah hesitates while trying to think of how best to phrase her question. "Your... casual demeanor toward Lt. Morris earlier... The nickname you gave him did not seem entirely friendly. Do you have a reason to dislike the man? Or were you trying to convey a message?"

He shrugs. "No, I gotta admit, I never really liked the guy. We just never hit it off, y'know? Sometimes I get the impression, I dunno, like he looks down on us or something. He studies us but doesn't think much of us." He shrugs again. "It's hard to say. So I guess I needle him a little when I can."

"To the extent that you may have seen the interactions among the CAG... did you notice any tensions there?"

"You mean, among the Starfleet folks? No. Or, really, I just dunno. I didn't really pay much attention. I never noticed them fightin' or anything, though. They all seemed OK with each other."

Kylah goes on, "Have you heard rumors of Lt. Morris or any of the CAG members getting privately involved with the various rivalries within the Syndicate? Either Mr. Krako or any of the others whom the President described as--as wanting a piece of his action?"

"No," he says flatly. "We wouldn't stand for that. Not for a second."

Kylah has the strong sense that he is being truthful with her, although he is still, she knows, keeping secrets and dark memories shielded from her.

"I see," Kylah says, clasping her hands together and trying not to look too nervous. "No, of course you would not find that appropriate. Nor would I." She draws in a deep breath. "There is one more avenue I must pursue, Mr. Kalo, and it is--it is very delicate. Especially as you are justifiably protective of President Okmyx."

She aims her attention at the sky for a moment in thought, then looks directly at Kalo. "I do not know how best to phrase this, and I hope you will forgive me if I inadvertently step over a line. The President told us that there were witnesses to the kidnapping, and proceeded to ask you for their names. Does this mean you were the one to interview them personally, and then passed along their observations to him? Or did they speak to the President himself, either in private or in your presence?"

Choose your own adventure time:

If he says they spoke with him personally and he passed along the info to the pres.:

Spoiler (mouseover to read):

"Did any of the witnesses identify the perpetrators in such a way--by name or physical description--that you recognized one or more of the kidnappers? Or perhaps they told you a name or names directly?" Kylah hesitates just a second before adding, "In either case, is there any suspect whose identity you might not have shared with the President, due to a personal connection on his part? Perhaps because you were not yet certain and did not wish to... to cause him distress without cause?"

If he says they spoke w/Okmyx directly with Kalo present:

Spoiler (mouseover to read):

"Did any of the witnesses identify the perpetrators in such a way--by name or physical description--that the President was able to recognize one or more of them? And if so, is there anyone whose identify he might be keeping to himself due to... his own loyalties to someone closely connected?"

If he says they spoke w/Okmyx directly, without Kalo present: "

Spoiler (mouseover to read):

Did the President seem particularly concerned after meeting the witnesses? That is to say..." Kylah exhales in frustration at having yet again to be so circumspect. She has dealt with enough internecine political battles and intrigue back on Elas, and is not glad to be back in such a position. An old trick occurs to her. "I will speak hypothetically," she says, choosing each careful word. "If the President knew or suspected that one of the perpetrators was closely connected with him... would he keep this information from us, and deal with the matter personally? And if you know who this person is--again, hypothetically--would such an action come as a surprise to you? I mean... would this person have participated in this act in order to impress or show disrespect to the President?"

Kylah anxiously brushes some wind-tossed curls from her face, keeping her stare on Kalo and still measuring his emotions even as she tries to radiate her own trustworthiness. She hopes she has been neither too bold nor too obscure. The other witnesses may not have even mentioned the President's son. In which case, she wonders how Morris identified him; it does not seem as if Okmyx had many dealings with the CAG at all. Why would his wayward son be so easily identifiable by Lt. Morris?

Kylah aims her attention at the sky for a moment in thought, then looks directly at Kalo. "I do not know how best to phrase this, and I hope you will forgive me if I inadvertently step over a line. The President told us that there were witnesses to the kidnapping, and proceeded to ask you for their names. Does this mean you were the one to interview them personally, and then passed along their observations to him? Or did they speak to the President himself, either in private or in your presence?"

He seems uncomfortable with where these questions are going, but says, "Yeah, some of the boys and I spoke with the witnesses. Then I passed along the info to the President. He didn't talk to them himself - he's a busy man."

Kylah anxiously brushes some wind-tossed curls from her face, keeping her stare on Kalo and still measuring his emotions even as she tries to radiate her own trustworthiness.

"Of course, I would imagine the President has a great many obligations," she says. "So if I may ask, did any of the witnesses identify the perpetrators in such a way--by name or physical description--that you recognized one or more of the kidnappers? Or perhaps they told you a name or names directly?"

Kylah hesitates just a second and makes sure her next words are delicately phrased. "In either case, was there any suspect whose identity you might not have shared with the President, due to a--well, a personal connection on his part? Perhaps because you were not yet certain and did not wish to--to cause him distress without cause? ...Which would be an understandable and considerate choice," she hastens to add.

She hopes she has been neither too bold nor too obscure. The other witnesses may not have even mentioned the President's son. In which case, she wonders how Morris identified him; it does not seem as if Okmyx had many dealings with the CAG at all. Why would his wayward son be so easily recognizable by Lt. Morris, if he is not famous enough to have been recognized by these witnesses?

Graham listens attentively to Morris' answer.

He keeps his appearance neutral and contemplative, but he's a little skeptical about Morris' analysis. Okmyx is in power, with our backing...what limits could he possbily want relaxed? He seems like a pragmatist, not like one to to rock the boat...

The only angle that makes sense for Okmyx to be a bad actor at the moment is discrediting Krakow's Federation Captain play, but he's not convinced that would make sense either.

"All right," Graham says, glancing at Morris and then T'Var. "Unless anyone has any other suggestions, why don't we have Yorktown focus sensor scans for alloys or materials that are non-indigenous on Krakow's territory. Hell, if he's all into the Federation, even if his people didn't do it, maybe they would have bought a piece of tech or clothing on the black market..."

"Of course, I would imagine the President has a great many obligations," Kylah says. "So if I may ask, did any of the witnesses identify the perpetrators in such a way--by name or physical description--that you recognized one or more of the kidnappers? Or perhaps they told you a name or names directly?"

"Yes...," says Kalo, reluctantly.

Kylah hesitates just a second and makes sure her next words are delicately phrased. "In either case, was there any suspect whose identity you might not have shared with the President, due to a--well, a personal connection on his part? Perhaps because you were not yet certain and did not wish to--to cause him distress without cause? ...Which would be an understandable and considerate choice," she hastens to add.

Kalo says, "Yeah... uh, two of the witnesses said they recognized one of the kidnappers. Said it was one of the President's sons, the oldest, Cledd. I thought they were wrong - probably wrong - but still, I told Mr. Okmyx what I'd heard. He's smart enough to not want to, y'know, shoot the messenger. He can't make good decisions if he doesn't hear everything he needs to hear."

Kylah still senses Kalo's basic truthfulness, despite his reluctance.

Morris says to Graham, "It's 'Krako,' but yes, that might work."

Some of the tension in Kylah's muscles is released by Kalo's apparently forthright--and most important, nonviolent--reaction to her questions. She exhales in relief. "Thank you, sir. That confirms what I had heard. I hope you do not mind my not having mentioned my suspicions to you at once. I was not certain of our witness, and I did not want to offend you, or the president himself of course, by mentioning that the son appeared to be part of the group responsible for the crime.

"But," she says with a grim shake of her head, "it is hard to avoid focusing on this Cledd person now. Not only is he the only potentially identified accomplice to the CAG's abduction, but his relationship to the president may well be part of this scheme. Without breaking any confidentialities, do you think you could tell me a bit more?"

"What is the difficulty that exists between Cledd and President Okmyx? Why is the son so poorly thought of? Does he have a record of such... unapproved behavior?" Kylah was about to say 'violent or criminal behavior,' but given the vicious beating she saw downstairs, she is not sure the terms have any real meaning in this society.

"If you know him relatively well, do you know what his ultimate goal is? To prove himself to his father, to become a rival and usurp President Okmyx's role, or... something else? How competent is he? That is to say... do you think it is likely that he would achieve either goal?"

"How might taking the hostages have furthered this ambition? I--I have to believe that if the abductors wished to send a brutal message to Starfleet, the hostages would have been found already...dead.... Not hidden away for so long. What do you think?"

"Do you know Cledd's opinions about the Starfleet presence on the planet? Is he like Krako, hoping to emulate us? Or does he wish you to have nothing to do with the Federation?"

"Who are his associates, if any? Is he likely following some other leader--and if so, who? Or is he the sort who would insist on taking charge?"

"Do you know where he lives?" Kylah's gaze sweeps across the landscape again, as if hoping to find the man from such a distant view. "Any nightclubs or... or houses of leisure...?"

"What of his personal life? Has he a family? Is he the sort to seek women out? If one of us were to meet him, would he... lower his guard?" She contemplates Collins's bold and confident nature, at least as far as sexuality is concerned (if her partnership with Mr. Cooper is any guide). This might make a very good fit for someone like Cledd. If he prefers someone aloof, Dr. T'Var might be suited. Or, for that matter, one of the men might be more his preference.

A sudden thought of Mr. Graham trying to seduce a mobster's son nearly puts a smile on her face. Until she remembers the gravity of the situation. Collins and Garcia are currently in harm's way, and she is the only one who knows it. And the mission leader as well, she adds swiftly, hoping to avoid any memories that might interrupt her interview. Still...

Kylah's concern grows and she again steps forward, unable to help herself from worrying. "Mr. Kalo, I must ask: How violent is Cledd? If there were an attempt to rescue the hostages, would he be willing to negotiate, or would he kill the captives in response?" She swallows and clasps her hands more tightly. "How much danger might a rescue team face?"

Kylah says, "...it is hard to avoid focusing on this Cledd person now. Not only is he the only potentially identified accomplice to the CAG's abduction, but his relationship to the president may well be part of this scheme. Without breaking any confidentialities, do you think you could tell me a bit more?"

Kalo sighs. "The President and Cledd... well, they've had their ups and downs. Cledd is the oldest and has always wanted his dad's approval. But he's... a little wild. Not as disciplined as his dad. Not as... strategic."

"What is the difficulty that exists between Cledd and President Okmyx? Why is the son so poorly thought of? Does he have a record of such... unapproved behavior?"

"I'd better not say. But there have been problems between him and his dad, I gotta tell you."

"If you know him relatively well, do you know what his ultimate goal is? To prove himself to his father, to become a rival and usurp President Okmyx's role, or... something else? How competent is he? That is to say... do you think it is likely that he would achieve either goal?"

"He definitely wants to prove himself to the President. He'd like to succeed him someday, it wouldn't surprise me. 'Usurp'? Nah. He loves his dad, for all the problems they've had."

"How might taking the hostages have furthered this ambition? I--I have to believe that if the abductors wished to send a brutal message to Starfleet, the hostages would have been found already...dead.... Not hidden away for so long. What do you think?"

He rubs his chin. "I'm just not sure. It's puzzled me, too."

"Do you know Cledd's opinions about the Starfleet presence on the planet? Is he like Krako, hoping to emulate us? Or does he wish you to have nothing to do with the Federation?"

"Y'know, I haven't heard Cledd talk about that. He's mostly been focused on helping his dad, and doing work for the Syndicate."

"Who are his associates, if any? Is he likely following some other leader--and if so, who? Or is he the sort who would insist on taking charge?"

"Oh, he's got his own crew, his own set of guys. He don't answer to nobody but his dad."

"Do you know where he lives?" Kylah's gaze sweeps across the landscape again, as if hoping to find the man from such a distant view. "Any nightclubs or... or houses of leisure...?"

"Yeah, he lives across town. Cledd's got his own territory, the Northside, that the b--- the President assigned him last year. He owns a nightclub, the Paramount, up there. I ain't been but I hear it's real nice."

"What of his personal life? Has he a family? Is he the sort to seek women out? If one of us were to meet him, would he... lower his guard?"

Kalo smiles. "Oh, he ain't married. He definitely likes the ladies. I don't know about lowerin' his guard, though. He's pretty shrewd. I don't know any dames who've ever fooled him."

Kylah's concern grows and she again steps forward, unable to help herself from worrying. "Mr. Kalo, I must ask: How violent is Cledd? If there were an attempt to rescue the hostages, would he be willing to negotiate, or would he kill the captives in response?" She swallows and clasps her hands more tightly. "How much danger might a rescue team face?"

He nods slowly. "Yeah, he can be violent, when he thinks he has to be. He's tough, y'know? He ain't afraid to do what has to be done. He's not much of one for, uh, negotiations. You gotta be prepared for anything if you're dealing with Cledd."

All of Kalo's responses roam through Kylah's mind as she tries to find the key, the logic, to weave the threads together into a tapestry that makes sense. At last she nods at the henchman. "Thank you, Mr. Kalo. You have been extremely helpful and, I believe, candid." She starts to lift her hand to shake his, but then pauses. Her glance takes in Lt. Morris and the others visible through the window. It sounds as if her suspicions about Morris are unfounded, but nagging doubts remain.

"Actually, I--may I beg a little more time for a few more questions? First... I believe the President mentioned that the communicator left behind by the Enterprise seems to have gone missing. Did his son ever show interest in it? For that matter, does Cledd have any interest in technology at all, or are any of his men talented in that area?"

"Would Cledd's siblings have any idea of his activities? Does he confide in them?"

"Have you seen Cledd since the kidnapping? If so, what was his demeanor?"

"Finally..." Kylah's gaze again shifts toward the lone safe CAG member before she asks, "You would not happen to know if Lt. Morris has any connection to the President's son, would you?"

"Actually, I--may I beg a little more time for a few more questions?," Kylah asks. "First... I believe the President mentioned that the communicator left behind by the Enterprise seems to have gone missing. Did his son ever show interest in it? For that matter, does Cledd have any interest in technology at all, or are any of his men talented in that area?"

"Huh... he did ask about it at the time, now that you mention it. Funny, I kind of forgot that until now. But lots of people were talking about it at the time - it was a big deal. I don't think he has any particular interest in technology overall, though, and I don't of know none of his boys who do, either."

"Would Cledd's siblings have any idea of his activities? Does he confide in them?"

Kalo seems remarkably patient with Kylah. "I don't think so, to both," he says. "Cledd isn't a blabbermouth, and he's not too close to his brothers and sisters."

"Have you seen Cledd since the kidnapping? If so, what was his demeanor?"

"No, I haven't seen him. But that's not unusual. Sometimes I'll go a long time, weeks even, without seeing him. He's got his own stuff to do."

"Finally..." Kylah's gaze again shifts toward the lone safe CAG member before she asks, "You would not happen to know if Lt. Morris has any connection to the President's son, would you?"

Kalo raises his eyebrows. "No, not that I know of. Not to say it'd never happen, but I doubt it, just because of, y'know, their personalities. And Morris'd have no reason to go lookin' for him, as far as I know."

Kylah pays close attention and lets out a soft exhale when Kalo finishes answering her last question. She has been waiting for him to brush her off or dismiss her, but rather fortunately she seems not to have angered him.

"Thank you again, Mr. Kalo. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your patience and willingness to assist our investigation. The President is fortunate to have you on his staff. Forgive me for having asked so much of your time." She tentatively holds out a hand, somewhat wary that he will again linger over the gesture.

Assuming the handshake goes easily enough, Kylah starts to leave the balcony but swiftly turns to face Kalo again. "Oh! I am so sorry, I nearly forgot. Can you describe Cledd to me, please? Or even better, do you know where I might find a picture of him?"

Kalo takes her hand and shakes it. "Don't worry about it, honey. You're... easy to talk to, somehow." His expression is almost puzzled. To her last question he replies, "About my height, a little thicker, early twenties. His eyes are a bright blue. Other than that, he kinda looks like a younger version of his ol' man. I'll... see about getting a picture for you."

He leads the way back into the President's office.

Kylah thanks Kalo for his willingness to provide a picture. She hopes to send it to--to someone on the other team--just in case they run into anyone wherever they are.

She returns inside, rubbing her slightly chilly bare arms, and aims a look at Mr. Graham. She cannot help a quick smile and meaningful nod, unable to hide the fact that her efforts were rewarded and she can contribute at last.

Of course, if the others have already rescued the hostages, it might all be moot; she is uncertain whether their mission is to exact justice in addition to ensuring the safety of the CAG team. I suppose the team--assuming they remain in place on the planet--will not be safe until whoever took them is identified. The thought helps restore her feeling of success.

Kylah makes a beeline toward Graham and Dr. T'Var. They are with Lt. Morris, of course. She needs to get Mr. Graham alone at some point. While she can communicate with T'Var, she can hardly use the same method with the security officer. Well, if she cannot have a private conversation away from Lt. Morris, she can always use her communicator. It seems unlikely that Mr. Kalo would object now.

Graham's ruminating over next steps when Kylah returns, and...smiles...

He's...shockingly happy...for a moment he remembers Lizzy smiling at him, or Rachel Weinstein on the job...

He reins his random feelings in and nods acknowledgement..

"Look, ah, Kalo..." He shrugs. "I think we're all on the same page as friends here, at this point. President's a no bullshit guy," he adds with what so far is a sincere compliment. "We could use a few moments someplace to contact that ship and get them looking for the missing crew members, based on what we learned. And check in with...ah, some of other folks on the surface. Can you point us to a room we can use for a few?"

Kalo scratches his head and says, "Sure. Right this way." He leads you out of Okmyx's office and down the hall to a smaller conference room. There is a polished wood table with six chairs and another great view out over the city, although no balcony. He posts a guard outside and closes the door behind him.

Ens. Graham, Ens. Kylah, Dr. T'Var and Lt. Morris are now alone.

Kylah watches the door close and then turns to the others. She starts to open her mouth to report, but pauses. Mr. Graham is the leader here, and before she speaks up, he may well have something to say--or wish to contact the ship as soon as he can. Her lips press together instead, biting back the words. But if it were not inappropriate for a Starfleet officer and undignified for a member of the royal family on Elas, she would be bouncing on her toes right now.

Graham listens to the door shut, and after a moment smiles slightly and says, "Alright: three things. One, any observations or insight? Two, we check in with the other team. Three, we report to Yorktown."

He looks up at the ceiling "Bear in mind we may be listened to. No offense intended, and none taken," he adds to the ceiling and walls.

Kylah looks up at the ceiling, as if the lengthy conversation with the president's right-hand man can be found up above her head. She must not discuss anything regarding Lt. Morris, of course. Except...

"First, Lt. Morris, I must thank you for mentioning Cledd Okmyx," she begins, giving the man a nod before returning to fairly beam at Mr. Graham. "It allowed me to pursue what I believe--or hope--is a promising line of inquiry. Mr. Kalo seemed to feel more...comfortable with me." Her left shoulder rises slightly in a modest shrug. "At least, I was able to lead him into revealing that President Okmyx's eldest son was indeed mentioned by two witnesses at the scene of the crime." She adds to Morris reassuringly, "I did not give away that you had witnessed this yourself, sir."

She rushes through the salient points of the discussion about the Okmyxes' father/son relationship, including Cledd's desire to live up to his father's expectations, his seeming estrangement from his siblings, and the fact that the younger man has his own gang willing to do his bidding. The fact that Cledd expressed high interest in Dr. McCoy's lost communicator also receives a mention.

"...I just thought that perhaps it found its way into the hands of whoever was behind stealing the CAG's computer. While Cledd is not skilled in technology himself," Kylah adds, thinking aloud, "he is an ambitious man, and a violent one as well. Perhaps he wanted control over people who did know about technology--such as the CAG crew."

Then Kylah unconsciously touches her sash and the hard outline of her communicator hidden beneath it. She lowers her voice and continues: "You mentioned getting in touch with the others. I... I should mention that I took advantage of my privacy in the restroom to contact them. I mean... Mr. Rangin," she blurts at last, switching her focus to Dr. T'Var so that she does not have to meet Mr. Graham's gaze.

She hurriedly gives a very brief description of what Mr. Rangin has graciously allowed her to reveal: that they are with Krako, who believes the President is to blame for the kidnapping. She stops, awkward, and feels her face turning warm yet again. It seems unconscionable to hide the fact that Mr. Rangin and the others might have the hostages even now. But orders are orders. "He told me--that is, I do not think we are to join them. Quite the opposite."

Kylah looks out the window, frustrated and a little angry. No, more than just a little angry. It strikes her again as extremely foolish to attempt a rescue without two of the best fighters on this strange team. All well and good to prohibit me from joining. He knows I am useless and weak in a fight. But the others...

She shakes her head irritably. "In any event, what do you think of Cledd Okmyx as a possible suspect, Mr. Graham? Dr. T'Var? If we wish to find him, Mr. Kalo says he is often at some sort of leisure club called the Paramount. Lt. Morris, have you heard of this place?"

"Good work, Ensign," Morris says. "Sure, I know the Paramount. It's one of the fancier nightclubs around. I've just been there once."

T'Var nods. "Especially given the reports of Cledd Okmyx's involvement in the kidnappings, it would be logical to seek him out."

"Don't take offence, sometimes, simplicity beats complexity," Rangin comments to Zabo. "It's a shame we are not right next door, it would make it easier, but we'll have to come up with something else." Rangin sits back down on the bed working through the possible angles. "All guns blazing won't help, could get someone injured. But time isn't something we really have on our side. We need a way to either split them off or work out which of the seven are our two kidnappers."

He turns and looks at Zabo, "If you were in this situation and someone knocked at the door, what would you do? Not saying you ever have been, but you would at least check on the door, wouldn't you? And any people you had in the room, you would want to make sure they are kept under supervision as a group, covered by someone else, right?"

"Of course, it only helps if you can see into the room and that we can. But the usual line is one at the door, one covering the group but with eyeline across. So they can act as a team if anything happens. Let's use that teamwork against them. We might even be lucky and have the group shuffled off into one room out of sight. Is that about right?"

"I'd still like to get a look at the group inside just to confirm it's the CAG." Rangin muses, wondering how best that could be done.

"There's always that 'drill a peep hole in the wall' idea," Collins offers.

"Yeah," says Zabo, nodding at Collins. "I might come to the door, or call out and see who it was, but probably not open it, if I were the guy who'd put the bag on some folks." He thinks. "Maybe you could use your fancy heaters through the door? Or use that sparkly people-moving gadget to move everybody somewhere where we could see them?"

Collins brightens noticeably. "Hey, now!" she says and nods, looking at Rangin and pointing to Zabo.

"What do you reckon, you're the expert?" Rangin asks Collins. "Are the doors thin enough to stun someone through?"

"Yes, indeed," Graham replies in a thoughtful tone to T'Var's comment.

"And a fancy nightclub sure beats some rat hole down by the docks." He shrugs. "I seem to remember from old Terran vids suspects always seemed to be holed up 'down by the docks.'"

He wishes he had a few minutes to think through Kylah's demeanor. On the one hand it seems drop-dead simple: give her some command guidance, which was a bit...wobbly...on that first mission when Collins was having her...difficulties. And keep her away from predatory assholes. And she thrives. But what's the deal with looking away reporting about Rangin...?

But he has neither the option to speak to her privately or stand there ruminating.

For a moment, he feels like he did wearing his Lt. Cmdr's rank.

The more fear, uncertainty and doubt there is, the more your people look to you. So when you have the least idea of what to do, that's exactly when it's most important to provide your people the confidence that somebody knows what the hell to do.

"It's excellent work all around, Mr. Kylah," Graham says with conviction, nodding toward the young ensign. "If this mission goes by the numbers, your communications skills will be the most valuable players. Me shooting someone or the Doc patching somebody up are just support in case something goes south. Keep at it and don't be shy," he adds--both his tone and his gaze soften involuntarily.

They walked out along the sandbar...

No matter what you will always be safe with me...

He mentally shakes his head clear of the memory.

Nothing anyone would notice, he thinks.

He clears his throat. "All right, if there are no other comments, we'll get to it and inform Yorktown enroute."

"I was thinking more finding an open space," Collins explains "and beaming the lot there. Sort 'em out in the open." She pauses. "But if we could, quietly, unobtrusively, make a hole in the door, no more than two centimeters, I could shoot a wide beam medium stun into the room." She looks at Rangin, leaving the decision making to him.

Your earlier tricorder scans and Collins's own familiarity with phaser capabilities suggest that, depending on how far away those in the apartment are from the hallway, a phaser set on heavy stun with a wide beam and fired through a simple wooden door might suffice to knock out, or at least slow down, all or most of the occupants.

"Were you going to have the Yorktown make that scan before we go, Ensign?" Morris asks Graham.

See post 690.

Graham nods. "Right...good call. Once I hail Yorktown, as the ah, local, can you advise them on the right part of town to focus on?"

He opens his communicator. "Graham to Yorktown. We're about to head out to investigate a lead on the CAG's kidnapping. The station's mainframe was taken. We're hoping that there is enough off-planet or rare metal in it to be detected. Lt. Morris can advise on the area--ah, Okmyx' territory--where we'd like to start."

Mr. Graham's warm praise of her work lifts Kylah's head in surprise and appreciation. She stands even straighter than usual but tries not to seem unduly proud over the actions he has complimented. It is, after all, the level of competence at which she should have been performing all along. Looking at him, she notices a faint change in his mood, which makes her curious--especially after that wave of sorrow she felt earlier, when he touched her hand--but she refrains from pressing further.

Perhaps I can get him to hang back with me so we can talk in private, she thinks. Even though she cannot share Mr. Rangin's news about the hostages, she can certainly disucss Mr. Kalo's thoughts about Lt. Morris.

Speaking of whom, she wonders what scan the CAG member means. Then Mr. Graham opens his communicator and dispels her confusion. Of course, why did she not think of it earlier once they knew the computer was gone? Foolish, she thinks with a scowl.

Morris thinks for a moment and says to Roble, "Try within Starfleet planetary survey grids 070A through 930A. That should cover most of the city."

"Stand by," says the Science Officer, high above on the Yorktown's Bridge. "Scanning now."

There is a knock at the door.

"I'm an idiot, should have thought about this sooner. We have seven people in the room, two people with weapons and five people without." Rangin shakes his head in amusement as a few details finally click together into something far more useful. "We can pinpoint exactly where we need to aim should we wish to. We have plenty of options, if we need them."

Rangin can feel himself begin to bounce up and down slightly on the balls of his feet as his mind begins to put together more ideas before settling on perhaps the simplest option of all. "If we know which five are the CAG because they are not carrying any weapons, why don't we just transport them up to the Yorktown. Our job then becomes apprehending the kidnappers before they leave."

"What do you think?"

Collins nods approvingly "Works for me! Shall I call the ship or would you like the honors?"

Graham's not terribly alarmed, but responds instinctively, just in case the love-fest is over.

He puts a finger in front of his lips to indicate silence. Then he points at T'Var, then to a 90 degree angle from the door, with his hand on his phaser indicating she should stand by.

there's no doubt in his mind the Vulcan doctor is his go-to on the team for back up if the shit hits the fan, violence wise. Although aside from his general knowledge of Vulcans he can't put his finger on why...

"Hello, we're about ready," he says after a moment in an amicable tone. "Sorry if we kept anyone waiting."

Zabo says, "I thought just four of your guys was kidnapped. Didn't one of 'em get away?"

T'Var nods at Graham and changes her stance slightly.

The conference room door opens and Kalo pokes his head around it. He sees Kylah, enters, closes the door behind him, walks over and hands her a large envelope. He says, "Here's that picture you wanted."

Kylah is a little embarrassed that her colleagues were on alert for no reason; she should have mentioned that she was expecting an image of Okmyx's eldest son. "Oh... yes, thank you very much, Mr. Kalo," she says with a brief smile. "I appreciate your continued assistance."

Her fingers carefully open the envelope, but she will wait until Kalo leaves before pulling out the picture and explaining it to the others.

Kalo smiles tightly and leaves. The door shuts again.

"I am sorry for alarming you," Kylah says quickly to Mr. Graham and Dr. T'Var. "I did not know Mr. Kalo would respond so quickly to my request." She turns a little toward Lt. Morris, curious if he has any unusual reaction to seeing Cledd's face, and tries to home in on his emotions.

Refining her focus seems harder than it used to be; not only is she unused to the effort, the nearness of the others is causing a static-like interference. T'Var's near-blankness and Mr. Graham's intensity are two extremes competing to draw her attention away from the other human in the room.

She shakes her head at herself and takes a deep steadying breath before slipping the image from the envelope. "To make sure we could identify him on sight, I asked for a picture of Cledd Okmyx," she says in a rush, tilting the photo slightly toward Lt. Morris. Even though she is ostensibly examining the image herself, she still concentrates on Morris. "You are the only one of us who has seen him before, Lieutenant. Is this an accurate representation of how he looks now?"

"Interesting point. Makes me wonder who person number five is then?" Rangin tries to consider who else would be along in there and begins to get a had feelling about it.

"Four CAG members, two muscle...who would you put your money on being our mystery person? Either they kidnapped the maid or it's someone moe important and in charge of the situation. I think firing into the apartment might not be so clever. Let's do the opposite and switch out our two gunmen instead. What do you reckon?"

Morris looks at the black and white photograph, which is about 25x15 cms. It shows the head and upper shoulders of a young man in an Old Chicago suit and tie. He has a definite resemblance to President Okmyx, although perhaps a harder expression. Morris says, "That's Cledd, definitely. A pretty recent photo, too, I'd say."

Graham's communicator beeps.

"Good work, Mr. Kylah," Graham says as he whips out his communicator "Graham here."

Lt. Cmdr. Roble reports from the Yorktown, "Sensors indicate a possible location for the computer stolen from the CAG's safe house, Ensign. The readings are not definite, due to being beneath a somewhat large structure and underground, but appear to be the most likely within the grid coordinates Mr. Morris provided."

Kylah watches Mr. Graham carefully while he listens to his communicator. The weight of keeping Ensign Rangin's secret presses down on her until, suddenly, she thinks she might have a way past it. She will not disobey orders, but why not help Graham and Dr. T'Var figure out on their own just how close the others are to the hostages?

Resting her fingers tentatively on Mr. Graham's sleeve, Kylah murmurs hastily to him, "If they have located the computer, perhaps they can see whether the rest of the team is anywhere nearby?"

Then she turns her attention to Lt. Morris. "Thank you for identifying Cledd, sir. How often have you seen him? Has he ever seemed hostile to you or the other CAG team members?"

"Of course," Graham replies to Kylah, nodding crisply. His brow furrows slightly as he wheels start turning as he starts to think about retrieval of the computer--and potentially the hostages.. "Good thinking as we're presumably all after the same bad guys..."

And we don't want the two teams stumbling and bumbling into a cluster fuck storming the same location...

He hopes Rangin would have enough sense to put Collins in charge during any kind of tactical operation, but wouldn't bet money it.

"Yorktown, where is the other team in relation to that location?" Graham asks.

Morris says, "I've seen him maybe a half-dozen times. He's not as outgoing as his dad. He's been brusque with me, and I've heard similar things from my teammates."

Roble says, "That's the strange thing, Mr. Graham. The computer appears to be in the basement or sub-basement of the same building where the rest of the landing party is now."

Kylah nods toward Morris in gratitude, keeping an eye on Mr. Graham. She wonders if her suspicion was right--and if so, whether she was correct to nudge Mr. Graham toward the truth. Mr. Rangin will not know how we 'learned' of their current position, she convinces herself.

Still, she is curious whether Mr. Graham will seek to join the others or seek out Cledd. It likely depends on whether he thinks the others are capable of freeing the hostages on their own. Which... is unlikely. His disdain for Mr. Rangin probably outweighs his obvious confidence in Lt. Collins. And he may remember what happened with Garcia leaving Kylah to face Mrs. Hsu alone back on OC3.

While waiting for the leader of this mini-team to make his decision, she decides there is no harm in having a private moment with T'Var. She gently moves to speak with the doctor away from the others.

"Dr. T'Var," she says softly, "Do you have any idea why I might have suddenly regained my..." She glances toward the others to ensure she is not being overheard, then lowers her voice further: "...My abilities? They feel stronger to me now, but perhaps that is just because I've never been without them before. The experience is almost painful."

Rangin looks back over the tricorder readings for the room and the people still in it. trying to work out which of the readings might be the odd man out. Man...out. This was a backwards planet where it seemed that certain societal norms were still being obeyed like the patriarchal culture it copied.

Casting an aside glance at Zabo he asks, "...were the kidnappers all men?" while scanning the room to check the gender of the participants. After all two of the CAG were female.

Dr. T'Var shakes her head. "I do not know. Have you had contact with another telepath or empath recently, Ensign? It might have been very recently, or you might be experiencing a delayed reaction. Have you suffered any form of psychological trauma?" She thinks. "I presume you were not exposed to any unusual radiation or neurological phenomenon since we beamed down...."

Zabo says, "Yeah, I think so. Okmyx don't use dames for his legwork."

Rangin's tricorder scan confirms that only two of those in the other apartment are female; the rest are male.

Kylah's lips turn into a thin line as she thinks. "Perhaps," she begins slowly, "it might have been the violence down in the lobby. It was so... visceral. And the victim seemed utterly helpless and scared, and because of... because of what happened to me on Anubis, I knew how he must have felt. Even before I literally sensed it. I was overwhelmed..."

She shakes her head, so distracted by the memories she hardly sees T'Var in front of her now. "I suppose it is hard to determine why my senses returned when I do not even know why they disappeared in the first place. I may never know." The idea of learning just what Zweller might have done to her--not to mention any examinations T'Var might wish her to undergo--suddenly makes her shudder. "Maybe it is better not to know," she murmurs hurriedly, looking back up at the doctor with hopeful eyes. "We--you do not need to follow up on this, do you?"

"Ok, that's good indeed. Let' see if we can split that group down any further," Rangin calls back to Zabo and Collins, "Two with guns, who will be the kidnappers, and two ladies who will certainly be in the CAG. So all we need to do is narrow down which of the three is not a member of the CAG and we can whisk the others away to safety."

Rangin looks across at Zabo, "Just out of curiousity, they weren't kidnapped in uniform were they?" He suddenly wonders if there is an easy way to tell them apart. Starfleet Uniform regualtion footwear are boots, not shoes, especially not the kind worn by the gangsters on this planet. But then why would anyone consider such a fashion statement to be so useful in telling them apart.

Rangin also goes back to scanning the occupants of the room, and tracks where the ladies are. He would be surprised if they were not in the group with the CAG with at least one, if not the other, member leaving the two goons to one side and who ever the extra person is.

T'Var looks at her closely. "If you feel capable of continuing to serve, then no. But if you have any difficulties in carrying out your duties, you will of course tell me as soon as possible. Agreed?"

Zabo says, "I dunno if they were in uniform, pally. I wasn't there."

Rangin's scan shows four people - whom he decides to designate as Group A - about five meters away in the apartment from three people, or Group B. The two women are among Group A. The two armed men are in Group B. It is a larger apartment than the one Rangin is in.

Graham unfortunately doesn't see any alternative than his hailing Rangin.

Yeah so T'Var you did a stand-up thing by delegating tactical command to me, but now could you handle this because I don't want to do it...

No, not cool.

Graham hails Rangin.

Rangin's communicator beeps.

Kylah nods at Dr. T'Var, grateful for the delay even as a little wave of alarm churns her stomach. "Thank you," she murmurs.

Her thoughts turn to that destroyed communicator still in her possession. She does not think she can personally avoid following up on the results from Mr. Delaney's examination of the device. The trouble is, neither her technical or biological knowledge are advanced enough to determine what might have melted the inside of a communicator while simultaneously causing her physical and mental damage that has not shown up on any cursory scan.

The only person who ever performed a complete, detailed physical scan on her was her childhood doctor, and he died not long after her parents. And Dr. Leenar's records had been lost, apparently... a fact she learned only when she applied to Starfleet and they asked for her medical history.

Of course, Kylah guessed that her uncle had something to do with the fortuitous chain of events that erased her lengthy history of anomalous brain scans, treatments and experiments Leenar had performed on her over the years. And just as Aldaan had convinced Starfleet to slip her into the Academy at an advanced pace before Elas officially joined the Federation, he managed to persuade them that a cursory medical examination would suffice. "Elasian royal tradition demands physical privacy," he insisted. Though Kylah herself required privacy, the idea that most Elasians were that modest was utterly absurd. Presumably they knew so little of Elasians that Aldaan could have spun the tale of some ancient religious ceremony involving insect-worship, and the Federation would likely have bought it.

But it was not just cultural ignorance. When Kylah asked him how he had pulled off such feats of persuasion, Aldaan had remarked dryly, "It was not difficult, my dear child; after all, a seemingly endless supply of Dilithium has bolstered our credibility with both the Klingons and the Federation."

This line of thought is diverted when she hears Mr. Graham suddenly contacting the other team. Though he has not informed the rest of them, Kylah suspects Lt. Roble gave Mr. Graham the news she was expecting about the mainframe. She takes a step closer to the security officer, tilting her head while trying to look innocently curious.

Graham grimaces slightly, waiting for a response.

"The other team is right on top of where the mainframe may be," he says quietly, forcing the concern out of his voice.

Why the hell is a botanist or whatever the hell he is in charge of a mission like this instead of Collins...

Rangin is still looking over the Tricorder data as his communicator beeps. Absent mindedly he flicks it open without looking and answers it while still trying to formulate the best strategies for the CAG. It looks like they can just beam the CAG out sfter all.

"Ensign Rangin here."

"This is Graham," he replies to Rangin, professionally if a bit tightly. "Be advised Yorktown's sensors picked up what might be the missing mainframe underneath the building you're in. You may be at ground zero for who did this, or where the hostages are being held."

After a moment's pause he adds "do you need assistance?"

Kylah unconsciously steps closer to Mr. Graham. His words are perfect--it sounds as if he is unsure that the hostages are there, which could erase any suspicions Mr. Rangin might have that Kylah disobeyed him. But she is concerned nonetheless; rather selfishly, she does not wish to join the others.

After a moment, Collins says quietly to Rangin, "Might be good to consolidate our forces."

Rangin tries not to grind his teeth down the communicator as he realises that it is Graham speaking and not T'Var or Roble. He thinks back over the conversations he has had with Collins and remembers her mentioning the mainframe earlier on. It looks like the other team had made some progress and without getting into further trouble, at least Rangin hopes it is the case.

"We haven't moved on the room where we believe the CAG to be, but I think we have worked out who to transport out leaving three others behind." Despite the fact Zabo us behind him, Rangin having turned away to take the call, his eyes flicker in that direction and finds himself not quite willing to mention anything further.

"Yes, your assistance would be appreciated to help clean up if needs be."

He turns and quietly says to Collins, "Might want to check on Garcis as well."

"Garcia?" Collins asks. "OK. In person or by communicator?"

"Stand by," Graham replies, "unless advised otherwise we'll request Yorktown to put us down in the room with your team."

Kylah blinks, not having expected such a response--and not looking forward to returning to Mr. Rangin's team. She looks down at the photograph in her hand. "Sir," she murmurs to Mr. Graham, "do you not think we will risk losing track of Cledd if we wait until after the hostages are released? Whereas if we see him while he thinks he has the upper hand, we might at least determine what he expects to gain from this stunt? Assuming he is indeed behind it," she adds under her breath.

Graham pauses, looking at Kylah for a moment and thinking.

He is forced to admit that she's certainly right that making that call is most definitely not up to him. It's up to the mission commander...

If anything he's proud of her for raising the issues - good officer maturity. Although his jaw tightens slightly as he returns to the communicator.

"Mr. Rangin," he states, trying to be as respectful as he can without conveying any.

"I would be remiss in not reporting that we have a lead on who might be behind this. It would be best to explain in a, ah, secure environment. But the lead is credible. It is your call whether we pursue that immediately." After a very brief pause he adds, "There is a risk that at the time or shortly after the hostages were rescued, our boy--uh, target--might learn about it and go to ground."

After a moments consideration Rangin replies quietly to Collins hoping to avoid Zabo hearing. "In person. Also if the mainframe is below us, scan and find it then the pair of you see who is holding it there." He nods to her hoping that this would, at least, be more along Collins' line of work.

He listens back to Ens. Graham's through the communicator and hears the question. Rangin's primary goal is the safety of his team and the CAG above all. Finding the culprit is a job for the locals and it would be typical of Graham to stick his nose in where it didn't belong. Then again they had a little time and it might be easier for Federation personnel to locate the person behind it and bring them to justice.

"Ok Graham. Follow your lead and don't take too long. First sign of trouble I'll be looking to pull the CAG out. Besides it's possible the person you're looking for is already here somewhere on the premises. If we can clear up all three things at the same time, that would be good. Rangin out."

Taking a few deep breaths, he tries to calm himself knowing he just let Graham off his leash and hoping that T'var will keep him under control.

After that he calls up to the Yorktown with the readings from his tricorder to see if it is possible to transport the team out.

Collins nods and heads for the door. One of the mooks goes with her.

Thalen on the Yorktown's Bridge puts Rangin through to Transporter Room 1. Chief Nguyen is now on duty, and after scanning says, "Yes, I have a lock on all seven. We could only beam six at a time, unless you want me to coordinate with one of the other transporter rooms. The people in that room are roughly grouped as four and three."

Shifting her gaze from Mr. Graham to Dr. T'Var and back again, Kylah tightens her grip on the photograph and nearly bends it. She is now worried that her suggestion might not be what is best for their crew. What if the others need backup? Lt. Collins is the only experienced security officer there. Kylah's advice might have had some basis in strategy, but she knows the real reason for it was her base desire to avoid seeing the mission leader again.

What if something happens during the hostage rescue, she thinks, twisting the envelope in her hand. What if someone is injured because of my personal issue with Mr. Rangin? My cowardice?

She stares at Mr. Graham. "What did... what did he say, sir?"

Graham stows his communicator.

"We're to follow up on our lead on Cl--...you know, our suspect."

After a brief pause he adds "You were right to point out that the call on who goes where wasn't mine to make. If they need help, they can call on Yorktown."

A bit louder he says "All right, team we're going to investigate this 'Paramount Nightclub' ASAP and look for our boy Cledd. Lt. Morris--what's the time to transit via local means, to go in as if we're locals? Plan B is we transport down somewhere hopefully out of sight and go from there."

Morris thinks and says, "The nightclub is maybe 10, 15 minutes away by car. It's not in the best part of town."

Mr. Graham's compliment makes Kylah frown, just enough to wrinkle her nose slightly. She did not mean to contradict him in front of Mr. Rangin, much less imply that he was wrong to make suggestions. But there is no private way to explain her comment, and she is uncertain whether it would be wise to do so. If he thinks her idea was one of strategy rather than insecurity, she will let that impression stand.

"Perhaps we should beam there, then? Time is important. If the hostages disappear, surely the people guarding them will contact their boss as soon as they can. Assuming there is one person in charge, and that he is not among them," she adds, remembering that Cledd Okmyx's involvement in a leadership role is still mere hypothesis.

The presence of armed men near her other crewmates is alarming. What will they do if the hostages disappear? Will they rush outside? Might they confront Lt. Collins and the others? Her heart rate jumps with concern and unease.

But she clamps down on her nerves as best she can. She must focus on this group's own agenda. "If you look on the map, Lt. Morris, and know the area... can you recommend any coordinates that might help ensure our beam-in is relatively private?" Kylah bites her lip and darts a look at Mr. Graham. Is she again overstepping herself? She hurries on. "I know the choice on how to travel is yours, sir. I just... I just want to assist in gathering information so you may make your decision."

Morris takes a look at the map and rubs his chin. "There's an abandoned storefront at the end of that block, if I remember right. We could probably beam in there unobserved - and without Kalo and his goons tagging along."

Kylah nods encouragingly at Lt. Morris and Mr. Graham. "If you think it best to beam there, Lt. Morris, then we can give the coordinates to the Yorktown's transporter room."

Fleetingly she remembers that Mark Ferguson might still be on duty, but she forces the thought from her mind and gestures toward the closed door. "Shall I tell Mr. Kalo that we are leaving? Despite the heavy guard, they do not seem to care whether we stay or go, but I doubt it would be diplomatic to disappear by beaming out from here. Nor would it be polite, since they have provided us with useful information." Kylah glances at Dr. T'Var, hoping for her input as well.

Morris checks his tricorder's mapping function to determine coordinates, just in case.

Dr. T'Var muses, "Fair points, Mr. Kylah, but it might be more tactically advantageous to leave without advising Mr. Kalo and the other... gentlemen as to where we are going."

"Good all around - we'll take your guidance, Lt. Morris, and I like your idea Doc." He nods slightly. "Let's just get on with transporting there, and if our hosts don't like it we can apologize later."

Kylah bites her lip. Two superior officers--Mr. Graham is technically her equal, but not as far as this mission is concerned--cannot be argued with. Yet it does not seem wise or polite to leave without a word. Nor can she imagine how saying farewell will cause any security issues. After all, they need not explain where they are going, simply that they are. Her protocol knowledge chafes at the idea of slighting someone influential whom they may need on their side at some point. Especially if we end up implicating the president's son!

While Mr. Graham speaks, she darts her gaze around the room to search for some sort of writing implement. Did they use separate pens and ink at this point in Terran history? she wonders briefly.

If she finds something she can use, she will walk casually over to jot down a simple note of gratitude to Mr. Kalo and the president--on the back of the empty envelope, if there is no other paper around.

There is a notepad of creamy-looking paper and a silver cup with four pens in the center of the table. Kylah may use them to write her note.

Morris looks curiously at Kylah for a moment as she writes, then says to the Security man, "I have the coordinates and have passed them along to the ship, Mr. Graham."

The pen feels odd in Kylah's hand; it could be a stylus, common enough for data entry--especially when one needs to create diagrams on a screen--but it is not held the same way. She frowns, staring at the blank notepaper. It has been a while since she handwrote anything in the Terran common language, which seems to be what these Iotians understand. They must, or The Book would have been gibberish to them.

The process begins slowly. First she must think what she needs to say, then mentally translate it to English, and finally remember how to shape the letters. Once she begins, however, muscle memory takes over and--as always when it comes to expressing herself in a written format--Kylah's words flow quickly.

Dear Mr. Kalo,

Due to orders and the need to act quickly, our team had to leave in haste, otherwise we would have said a proper farewell. I have no authority to speak for Starfleet or the Federation, but on behalf of my fellow officers on this mission, I wish to express our gratitude both to President Okmyx for his gracious hospitality and assistance. Further, I extend my personal thanks to you, sir, for the additional patient, candid responses you gave during our conversation.

Here Kylah hesitates and taps the pen against her chin in thought. She strongly believes she must acknowledge the possible repercussions that might result should Cledd Okmyx prove to be the culprit... which is almost a certainty, short of some strange case of impersonation. The president's reaction is an unknown that worries her. After all, he may be displeased with his son, but that does not mean he will relish any attempt to bring him to justice.

The Starfleet crew and the CAG can beam away to safety. But President Okmyx's anger may turn toward Kalo, when he realizes that his assistant was the obvious source for the lead. Okmyx is not a stupid man; Kylah could tell that easily during their meeting. And despite her dislike of these men and their thuggish, misogynist ways, Kylah most certainly does not want to be the cause of any violent punishment visited upon Kalo.

With a sigh, she jots down the rest.

It is possible that our investigation will uncover facts that may prove troublesome to your colleagues or the President. I hope this is not the case, but if so, I will do my best to ensure that you will not regret your forthrightness with me.

Once again, please accept my gratitude and my apologies for not saying farewell in person. I send my honor and respect to President Okmyx, and am certain my fellow officers join me in the hope that any further interactions will be both cordial and welcome.

Sincerely,

Ensign Kylah
Assistant Communications Officer, U.S.S. Yorktown

She sets the pen down, rereads the note and--though she would like to edit it further, realizes that the pen offers no way to do so without scratching words out. She prefers the clean look of her printed letters, and stands up to hand it to Mr. Graham. "I hope this will satisfy the need for both caution and correct protocol, sir," she says quietly, then sends a critical glance back down at the note. "Please excuse my poorly formed letters. I am not used to writing your language manually. With your approval, I will leave the note on the table."

"Thank you Chief," Rangin responds to the transporter room. "We believe the group of four to be the CAG and the group of three to be the kidnappers. I would suggest transporting them to two different rooms and preferably with security in one of them should it come to that."

"I would like to get a further view on them to fully confirm it is them, before we do transport the groups out. Also, the other team has requested a little bit of time to follow up on a lead. As there is little to no current activity in the area, I have let them go ahead, but if there is any hint of danger to towards the group, we will be extracting them immediately."

From high above aboard the Yorktown, Chief Nguyen says, "Understood, sir. Standing by. But... wouldn't you want Security in both rooms, just to be on the safe side?"

Collins returns with the mook in tow. She tells Rangin, "Garcia is fine, but a little bored. Tricorder scan confirms the CAG mainframe is in the basement of this building, with what appear to be two Iotian guards, both with firearms."

Graham does something of a double-quickly scanning the note Kylah (completely unexpectedly) thrusts at him

"Wait, wha--"

His brow furrows as he scans it.

Then he smiles and chuckles slightly.

"There's an old phrase on Earth, 'good cop, bad cop.' Nice work being the 'good cop.'" He nods his approval. "If they wind up pissed off, feel free to put the blame on me violating diplomatic protocols or being a jerk or whatever you think moves the needle to smooth things over.'

Kylah watches Mr. Graham intently, then exhales in relief when he grants his permission--and even compliments her. Folding the cream-colored paper neatly in half, she adds Kalo's name on the blank side before placing it back on the table.

"Thank you, sir. I hope we will not need to smooth anything over, although if the President's son is responsible..." She shrugs and shakes her head before turning back to Mr. Graham. "I do not know how that will be resolved. It may well require more diplomacy and a greater level of prestige than a mere communications officer can provide."

She smiles briefly to acknowledge her lowly status, but her lips are tight and the expression does not come naturally to her. In truth, she is focusing on the upcoming transport process. She just hopes it will be quick. Beaming technology is something she has encountered numerous times since first encountering Starfleet, but while she grew used to it over the course of her accelerated Academy program, her feelings have changed since joining the Yorktown. Ever since Ferguson sent that sinister smile toward her back on her very first mission--ever since she was transported against her will by those villains on Anubis. Now Kylah dreads the process.

But aside from hugging herself as if cold, she tries to hide her disquiet and prepares herself for the journey to their new destination.

T'Var steals a look at the note, nods to Kylah and says, "Nicely done, Ensign, and better than leaving nothing." She says to Graham, "Shall we...?"

"Yes indeed," Graham replies with a nod to T'Var. "No time like the present. Prepare for transport."

He flips open his communicator. "Yorktown, we're ready.
"

"Acknowledged, Ens. Graham," Chief Nguyen replies. "Energizing."

The Syndicate tower's small conference room shimmers and disappears, and in a moment, Graham, T'Var, Kylah and Morris rematerialize in a dingy, nearly-bare store. You see empty shelves, gritty floors and a large, dirty window looking out onto a nearly-empty street. Planetary nightfall is now drawing on fast. A car goes by outside.

Kylah exhales in relief once the journey is over and her eyes adjust to their new environment, though she keeps hugging her purse to her chest. What she sees makes her grimace in reflexive distaste and unease.

This is quite different from the sleek opulence of Okmyx's building. She shudders and briefly wishes she had been given a dress with sleeves, or at least a wrap. Perhaps it is just the dwindling light and shabbiness of her surroundings that make the air seem chilly.

As she waits for Mr. Graham to take the lead in leaving this unknown site, Kylah peeks out of the window, careful to remain at a sharp angle in hope of keeping hidden. "Is this whole area so... rundown, Lt. Morris?" she murmurs as she absently rubs her arms for warmth. "It seems strange that the eldest son of the leader of the Syndicate would choose to frequent an establishment in such a place."

"Yes Chief, I think that would be a very good idea. Just in case. Rangin out."

To Collins as she returns. "Thanks for the update. Are they doing anything with it or is it just being guarded?"

Morris says, "I think he might've been hoping to help rejuvenate the area - or maybe he just chose it because the rent was lower. I don't know. But it does a pretty good business, I've heard. It's just down the block" -- he looks out the window, then points -- "that way."

Collins says, "Just guarding it, I believe, but I couldn't really tell just from a tricorder scan. I didn't look in on them."

"All right," Graham says, noting approvingly that Kylah made an effort to stay out of sight when glancing out the window.

"Check weapons: moderate stun. We'll do a little arm-in-arm promenade. Me and Kylah. Morris and the Doc. I think we're all righties here--Doc, I want your weapon arm free. No offense, Lt. Morris, but your safety is our responsibility. Doc, if the shit hits the fan and emergency beam out seems like the best option, do it."

He scowls. "Just on principle I want to make sure any bad guys don't wind up with the whole CAG team in their hands. Don't know whether that matters, but let's assume it might."

"We'll go first when coast looks clear. Come after with a discreet distance...close enough maybe we all know each other, far enough maybe we're strangers on our way to the club."

After a brief pause, he asks, "Lt. Morris - this place have a sign that'll make it obvious we're there?"

Morris and T'Var acknowledge their orders and check their phaser-1s.

The CAG officer says, "Yes, it's a nightclub, not a speakeasy. There are double doors and a gilt sign with the name out front. You'll probably see a bouncer or two, too. Er, also."

Kylah backs away and opens her purse to pull out her phaser, a bit of a struggle given how tightly packed the small bag is. She checks the weapon and frowns slightly. How to hide it, much less use it? Her hand will be tucked around Mr. Graham's left arm, as he arranged.

She can throw knives ambidextrously, like any Elasian girl over the age of ten, but she is a mediocre shot at best with a phaser, even with her right hand free. If forced to use the other for firing, she is liable to stun one of her own team. Or herself.

Still, there is nothing else to be done. She folds up the photograph of Cledd Okmyx and shoves it into the bag now that there is room. Then, when she slips her arm through Mr. Graham's yet again, she makes sure to clutch the beaded purse so that it covers the weapon in her left hand.

Kylah looks up at the man beside her as they prepare to leave. "Thank you for trusting me, sir," she says softly, not wanting the others to hear. "That is... for allowing me to speak to Mr. Kalo alone. I know it would not have been your preference."

Graham smiles very slightly. "I prefer a team where everyone can trust one another," he replies just as quietly. "I know you care a lot about, ah, being good at your job. Just keep in mind that I do, too, just as much."

"All right let's go see Mr. Cledd," he says to the whole group. As best he can, he looks around at what's happening outside, and assuming there is nothing alarming, moves to open the door.

"Shall we?" he asks Kylah.

There is nothing alarming that Graham can see.

He and Kylah, arm in arm, go out the door and walk down the street towards the Paramount. An occasional car passes by, but there's not much traffic, and not many people on the sidewalk, either. The whole neighborhood looks run-down. The nightclub, however, when you reach the entrance, appears shiny and well-kept. There are two heavy, Art Deco gold-and-steel doors and a tasteful sign with THE PARAMOUNT in cursive neon overhead. There are no windows. The sidewalk right in front is clean and smooth, unlike farther down the block in either direction. Three big men in pinstripes and fedoras are standing outside; they look alert. One has a bulky overcoat over his arm.

As you approach, a taxi pulls up and a well-dressed couple (he in a suit, she in a slinky dress and long fur stole) gets out. The man talks briefly with the big men, who soon wave the couple inside.

The street lights silently blink on. Kylah notices that those in front of the club are working, while several down the block are not.

Now this looks more like the second home of a wealthy leader's son. Kylah approves of the design, but is curious to note the difference between the nightclub and its surroundings. One would think the neighborhood would have been enlivened by the presence of such an ambitious establishment. Surely people such as these two new arrivals would feel more at ease on a street filled with jewelry, antique or clothes boutiques.

Speaking of clothes... Kylah casts an appraising look at the guests' attire. Although the woman's pretty dress catches her eye, it is the fur stole that Kylah currently yearns for. She is grateful to feel the warm material of Mr. Graham's suit sleeve against her skin. She does not know why she feels so chilly, just because of some early evening air.

But that might just be the problem, she realizes: the time of day. The last time she was out at twilight on a planet, she ended up battered and left for dead.

Unconsciously she moves more closely to Mr. Graham. Foolish. She is having all sorts of flashbacks and memories today, ever since her empathic abilities returned she has not been able to keep her mind focused. She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath, then opens again to look at the couple and force her attention on the mission at hand. No one is going to harm her here. All they have to do is get inside the club.

Assuming, that is, they can get inside. The quick discussion between the male guest and the large bodyguards causes her concern.

"We are not known here," she says under her breath to Mr. Graham while affecting a nonchalant demeanor. "I hope we do not need some sort of... password, or proof of our identification... in order to gain entrance." Kylah aims a quick glance back at Lt. Morris. "This is open to the public at large?"

Morris and Dr. T'Var are still a bit behind, but then get closer. Morris hears her question and responds, "If you're dressed for it and have money, yes. I think we qualify on both counts."

"Mr. Kylah, would you like to do the honors? Wowing these guys with how much management wants us in their club seems like it's right up your alley," Graham says quietly. "Morris, can you have her back on any local facts or culture questions?"

Surprised by Mr. Graham's request, Kylah nonetheless nods and focuses on the men by the door. Sweeping in and acting like her mother will not work here--this society does not seem to value haughty women, as she learned earlier. But neither will it do to behave like a nervous, needy cadet, as she did with Mr. Kalo. What sort of people would be welcomed by such a nightclub?

Those with wealth to spend, or power that can be bought. Her frown deepens as her thoughts take her to a logical conclusion. Or items that can be exploited--illicit substances; sexual companions.

Obviously the last two possibilities are not options. She decides to split the difference between her mother's regal approach and her own mousey one.

As she walks closer, she shifts so that she is not as near to Graham, despite still being linked arm-in-arm. Then, unless Lt. Morris or Dr. T'Var suggests a different plan from Mr. Graham's, Kylah will affect a casual stroll up to the guards--doormen--and offer them as warm a smile as she can give. "Good evening, gentlemen," she begins in a low, confident voice. "How is the..." Her mind strains for the lingo. "How is the action inside, this lovely night? May my party and I enter?"

Morris has no particular advice to offer. But that's OK, because the mooks outside look Kylah up and down appreciatively and one says, "Go ahead, dollface. Enjoy yourself!" He gestures towards the door.

Kylah's smile turns warmer, though inwardly she cringes at yet another way the men on this planet have found to address her as some sort of infant, plaything, or even food item. How do the women tolerate this? Still, she pretends to be flattered by the ogre's approval and looks toward Mr. Graham. Surely he should open the door in such circumstances.

With a rare moment of mischief--and not forgetting that Mr. Graham himself has used this culture's dismissive vernacular when talking about her to Okmyx's men--she tilts her head and says, "Well then? The door will not open itself... Big Daddy."

Graham hopes the mooks aren't observant enough to note the instant of shocked surprise triggered by Kylah's phrasing--but he has enough of a recollection of some old Earth vids that he knows she's not literally referring to him as a father figure...

He's not sure whether that feels good or bad...

He covers his reaction by quickly clearing his throat. "Of course, ah, doll..." he leaves it at that rather than repeating the same word the mooks used. He somewhat theatrically opens the door and gestures for her to enter, then toward T'Var. "Ladies first, of course..."

Amused despite herself, Kylah mentally thanks Collins for the phrase list she sent them earlier, and then heads through the door Mr. Graham is propping open--very curious to know what this establishment looks like, and more important--feels like. Perhaps the place will be spacious and not too crowded; things are always easier when there is plenty of room between her and others. Nevertheless, as she crosses the threshold, she tries to prepare herself for what might be a barrage of unfamiliar emotions.

The four Starfleet officers enter. You find yourselves in a richly-carpeted, somewhat dark foyer. The couple you saw earlier, and five other men and two women, are there, all similarly dressed in Twenties Chicago garb. A cloakroom is to your right, bathrooms to your left, and hallways extend into the darkness beside each. There is a larger, curtained entryway directly ahead, and the sound of relatively quiet jazz music just beyond.

Kylah is engagingly surprised by the refined tone of the club; even the music intrigues her. She wonders if there is dancing--not that the mission would allow time for it, but still, she loves hearing new music and rhythms, and has had precious few occasions to take advantage of them.

The last time was that night on OCIII. An impromptu dance with highly unanticipated and very unpleasant consequences.

Her smile flickers away fast. To shove the memory into the back of her mind where it belongs, Kylah pivots around to take Mr. Graham's arm again. "We do not have a plan," she blurts in a whisper when everyone is close enough. "I do not--I do not think we should improvise completely. How do we act if we see him? And if we do not... if he is in some back room somewhere... what pretense do we give to seek him out?"

Graham gently pulls Kylah closer to him as he edges closer to Morris and T'Var.

"Why, we go in phasers blasting," he says quietly, for a moment lost in memories that take a moment before they become bittersweet.

Jane loved to dance. In buildings that had stood in Boston for centuries. I hated it, but if she was willing to take to the floor with a lumbering idiot like me I was never going to say no...

He smiles, glancing at Kylah, only feeling the edges of the smile turn down as he turns away.

He clears his throat. "Lt. Morris--uh, I' think we should go by names while we're here--you know this guy, right? Any suggestions given what you know about him?"

"Sure, just call me Morris," the officer says. "Or Joe. I only know him a little, though. I'd say... treat him with respect and don't show weakness. He's not as smart as his dad, and he's got a shorter fuse."



Back on the ship, Lt. Ve'ne'ko'nia'onn is taking a brief break from her Bridge duties. She decides to stretch her legs and get a glass of ice water in the Mess, and has just walked in when a bosun's whistle sounds from the nearest comm. "Singh to Onn. Meet me in Transporter Room 1 on the double," she hears the Captain say.

She acknowledges the summons and quickly goes to the transporter room. In the corridor just outside it, she sees Dr. Villa and two medtechs hustling an antigrav gurney towards Sickbay. Lt. JG Jeremi Collins is on the gurney, very pale and apparently unconscious.

Inside the transporter room she finds Capt. Singh and Chief Nguyen. Singh is grim-faced. "Lt. Collins fainted while serving with the landing party," she says. "We're not sure yet if it's serious, but Dr. Villa is optimistic. Mr. Rangin's investigation below seems to have stalled, and we still don't know the location of the CAG for sure. I want you to go planetside and assume command of the entire landing party. The safe and prompt recovery of the CAG should be your priority. Mr. Nguyen will beam you down to the apartment building where Collins was." She quickly brings Onn up to date, and adds, "You should go in Twenties garb to blend in with the rest of the landing party, Lieutenant. The Wardrobe Section will prepare whatever you need. Questions?"

Questions? Nia has only about a hundred, starting with 'why me?' and 'Is Collins okay?' and ending with 'is Rangin gonna frag me for taking over his first command?' She nearly laughs in disbelief and disorientation at the whirlwind of events, but the circumstances are sobering enough to keep her composure.

"No, thanks, Captain, your report sounds crystal clear. I've got the picture and if the CAG can be brought back, they will be." Then a wrinkle in the plan hits her. "Except... I remember just enough about the 20th-century culture in North America to hope that not every aspect caught on over there..."

Her hand gestures toward her face. "My, uh, complexion doesn't exactly match anyone else's in the landing party. Do you or perhaps Ensign Hayes know if this'll be an issue planetside? Of course I can handle whatever they dish out, ma'am," Nia adds firmly. "I just don't want to be a distraction."

She can't help a slight crooked smile. "Then again, I also come equipped with something Terrans would only find on reptiles or sea creatures. I can retract most of my scales, but hopefully Wardrobe can help out with a long-sleeved outfit. But I'm assuming the priority is saving lives rather than fitting in. If necessary, we'll toss out the guidelines about disrupting the native culture by whipping out phasers or any other tech... Have I got that correct?"

Graham smiles just a little. "No weakness I can do."

He glances at Kylah and says "you'll have to keep me honest about not insulting him," he says, giving her hand on his arm a little squeeze without any conscious thought whatsoever.

"All right," he says, leaning in to the center of their little group. "He's an important guy, we're Feddies who want to know what happened, so we assumed a big important guy like him might know the score." After a brief pause he adds, "And Morris here recommended this as the best nightclub in town, and even Feddies need a break once in awhile."

Mr. Graham's squeeze surprises Kylah, and she looks at him with curiosity. Perhaps he is tacitly telling her to let him take the lead, but to stay on guard for the younger Mr. Okmyx's apparently mercurial temperament.

She nods at his strategy, both the silent version and the one he spoke aloud. It strikes her as entirely possible that this room is monitored somehow--although her knowledge of this era and setting is miniscule. Thus far there have been few signs of advanced applications of electronics or computers... but of course: the Iotians have mimicked an age too early in Earth's history for computers.

But what of audio technology? Fortunately nothing she, Graham, T'Var or Morris has said is particularly damning. No mention of the other team--and hopefully that will remain the case. We are here to gain information, not reveal any.

Still, before they head for the main room, her eyes scan the room for any signs of wiring or likely places to hide a microphone.

"You do, Lieutenant," says the Captain. "They've already seen phasers and communicators in use... and may even have captured one of the latter. But it would be best for you to limit your use of advanced technology, to the extent possible."

Onn nods and, at the Captain's invitation, speaks on the transporter console's comm unit to Wardrobe. A few minutes later, an ensign bustles in with her Twenties footwear and garments.

The Paramount's foyer is somewhat dark, as noted, but Kylah sees no likely places to hide a microphone.

Nia realizes that Captain Singh didn't respond to the question about Earth's centuries-old difficulties between people of different skin colors. Maybe the captain didn't think it necessary to add worry about bigotry to Nia's rather abruptly placed burden. Especially since it seems an egregiously absurd, trivial matter to cause such vile behavior and injustice.

After absently thanking the ensign for the clothing, Nia chides herself. Trivial? Who am I to judge? After all, her own ancestors once went to war with the Lau, who believe the deity Sid'Os is male--whereas the majority religion among the Ne people assures them that the Creator is the Mother of the World.

Thousands died in a dispute over an invisible god's gender. Which mattered because...? I'm sure the reasons were super important at the time, Nia thinks darkly.

Her ruminations dissipate when she unfolds the outfit Wardrobe saw fit to send her. "Whoa... okaaay," she says with an amused lift of her eyebrows. "They did hear me say I was joining a landing party, not cocktail party, right?"

The question is entirely rhetorical, of course. She purses her lips and unfastens the shimmering thing. Maybe it gets better when it's actually on? Shrugging, Nia quickly "scales up," as she calls the process of protecting the entirety of her skin with her body's natural armor, then removes the regulation Starfleet-issued gold uniform, stockings and boots. She puts them on one of the transporter pads, assuming they'll be beamed back to her quarters.

Now clad only in her underwear and scales, Nia slips the dress--which is mostly white, but with silvery sequins that are a good match for her own current iridescent sheen--over her body. The material's shining beads clatter as they slide across the scales. The dress falls past her hips and...

...And that's almost where it ends. Well, okay, it reaches mid-thigh, but the bottom few inches consist of thin fringe and material that's so sheer, it might as well not be there. Probably doesn't even show up in certain light conditions. Holy crap, they're kidding, right?

She quickly recedes the rest of her natural armor to get a better look at this... this sparkling handkerchief masquerading as a dress, and can't suppress her chuckle. It's beautiful. But absolutely crazy for a mission leader.

And no sleeves. Well, it has little strappy things, but apparently the dressmaker ran out of material by the time it got to the rest of the arms, not to mention the hemline.

In fairness, it's not really much shorter than her regular uniform. It's just a helluva lot less... there.

This has gotta be a prank.

That's when the realization hits her, and she barely suppresses a snort as she sends an arch look toward the obliging ensign. "I have a feeling I know who's on duty up in Wardrobe today," she says with a grin. "No, no need to confirm. Just tell her I'll get my revenge."

Mental note: must get chocolate-covered bugs from Ajay.

Shaking her head ruefully, Nia decides that her natural silvery scales from shoulder-to-forearm can probably pass as part of the dress's beading, so she leaves them as-is and finishes donning the ensemble, which includes stockings, platinum satin heels, and an absurd feathered bag hanging on a shiny silver chain--presumably meant to stow her communicator and phaser-1. But while she'll put the former away, she decides to wield the weapon until she assesses the situation on the ground as safe.

The last item is the other must-have she asked Wardrobe for earlier: some sort of hair adornment to cover her facial scales--they're pretty much permanent since receding them requires far too much concentration, a physical limit shared by the Ne people. She braids her hair and slips on the beaded headband, satisfied with the result. Scales no more. As Ajay would say: Sorted.

The whole process takes about five minutes, and then Nia steps up to the nearest transporter pad. Her amused demeanor fades quickly as she focuses and gets into game mode.

"Unless you've got any last orders or words of advice for me, Captain, I'm okay to go." Her gaze shifts to Nguyen. "Chief, on the Captain's mark, please?"

The ensign smiles at Onn's remark and leaves. She will return Onn's Starfleet uniform to the lieutenant's quarters.

"To answer your earlier question, Mr. Onn," Singh says, "I'm not aware of any racial or ethnic biases in Iotian society. One of the CAG members is a black man, I believe, and I don't recall having read of him having any difficulties on that front."

Nguyen, who had averted his gaze while Onn changed, adjusts the controls on the transporter console. "Ready, ma'am."

"Good luck, Mr. Onn," says the Captain. "Energize, Chief."

The Sidonian woman disappears into the dazzle of the beam, and rematerializes in a dingy apartment. Rangin is there in a natty Gangland Chicago suit, as is a darkly-handsome young Iotian male who looks her up and down.

"Welcome, ma'am," Rangin says. "How is Mr. Collins?"

"All right," Graham says. "Let's belly up to the bar and explain we'd hoped to buy Cledd a drink..."

Nia blinks a couple of times--a dozen years in Starfleet and her (fortunately brief) oversensitive ocular response to transportation hasn't abated--while taking in her new surroundings and companions. The Iotian stranger deserves a much more leisurely glance than she has time to afford.

Instead she focuses on Ensign Rangin. His greeting seems polite enough, but she hasn't forgotten the weird vibe he'd emanated during their conversation this morning; must've been her connection to Booker. Now she's basically yanked his first mission command away from him. Mend fences and move on. If I can't take two seconds to glom that hot stranger, I sure as hell can't waste time on personality clashes.

"Good to see you, Mr. Rangin. Though not under these circumstances, obviously. As to Collins, I'll answer that question in a minute, though I will say that the docs don't seem to know what caused this episode." Nia narrows her eyes and examines the room. "Have you tested the air yet for some kind of toxicity? I don't feel any problems myself, and you guys look well enough."

Now she has a legit excuse to eye the Iotian again--yep, definitely a cute specimen--before returning to Rangin. "That said, none of us are humans, so we could be immune to anything that hypothetically might've affected Collins. It's a long shot, but might as well run a tricorder scan, if you haven't yet."

She inhales and puts her hands on her hips. "Meanwhile. I got caught up, pretty much, on where things stand. Seven people in the alleged location of the hostages, right? And you'd been about to arrange for a beam-out of four possible CGA and three possible kidnappers, right? Seems like a good plan to me, so I don't see a reason to delay."

Though she pulls out her communicator, she just holds it up rather than utilizing it. "Except first, I need two clarifications. Where's Garcia, and what exactly is the deal with the mainframe? I was told there were two guys guarding it, but I don't recall the specifics: are they in the room with the mainframe, or outside?

"Reason I ask is, I wanna know if we can beam the thing out without their realizing it. I'd rather not alert them that we're making our move... Probably that was your thinking too," she adds, lowering her voice and trying to act as if she's consulting with Rangin instead of enlightening him on Asset Retrieval Tactics 101.

She doesn't want to say anything about suspects in front of this Iotian, so she finally turns directly to him. "Sorry for my rudeness. I'm Lieutenant Onn. It's a pleasure to meet you. I understand your group places great value in the ideals behind the Federation. Always good to meet a likeminded soul." She smiles appreciatively and then tilts her head toward the door. "Hope you don't mind, but would you give us a couple minutes of privacy? I just want to explain more about our downed officer, and it's personal and confidential."

Total bullshit, of course, but she needs this guy gone. Her smile turns apologetic. "I'm sure you understand."

Graham, Kylah, T'Var and Morris pass through the curtains, encouraged by the smile and nod of a beautiful hostess in a slinky dress. You find yourselves in the main space of the nightclub. A low stage is at the far end of the large circular room. A tuxedoed jazz quartet - piano, bass, drums and trumpet - is playing there under spotlights. About two-thirds of the room is filled with round tables of varying sizes. Each is under a crisp white tablecloth, set with silverware and glasses, and has a small electric light in its center. The room is otherwise dimly-lit. Only about a fifth of the tables are occupied at the moment. About a third of the room, closest to the stage, is a dance floor. It is now empty, although Graham reminds himself that the night is young.

A black-clad waiter with a starched white apron appears at once. "May I show you to a table, folks?" he asks. "Any place in particular?"

In the apartment, the Iotian man responds to Onn with a suave smile. "I'm Zabo. Nice to meetcha. Sure, I'll step out - no problem. I'll be right outside if you need me." He winks and goes, closing the door behind him.

Rangin says, "Thanks for the update on Collins, ma'am. I understand from the Captain that you're assuming command here." He does not look pleased, but neither is he grinding his teeth. "I did a standard atmospheric scan when we arrived, and found no toxins or harmful substances. Garcia is outside with the car we came in, and a couple of Zabo's goons. Collins's tricorder readings showed that the mainframe is being guarded by two Iotians who're in the same room as it - or at least they were, as of a few minutes ago."

Kylah does not speak--it is probably Mr. Graham's role to do so--but she offers a brief smile in response to the waiter's question. Meanwhile, she casts her gaze around the room to see if she spots Cledd Okmyx, though the dimness of the room makes that seem unlikely, at least from this distance.

While doing so, she finds herself increasingly impressed by the club. It is not at all the rowdy barroom she was expecting in such a rough neighborhood, much less one owned by such violent gangsters. In other circumstances, this is entirely the sort of establishment Kylah would seek out herself.

The sight and sound of the small jazz ensemble pique her interest. She stops clinging to Mr. Graham's arm to take a few steps closer to the stage, intrigued to learn of the instruments and compositions from this time and place. Such music cannot possibly compare in complexity to Elasian music she has studied, or the Klingon operas she loves... but that is no flaw as far as she is concerned. There is great beauty in simplicity.

Kylah listens and closes her eyes in appreciation, and even--once she has heard enough of the piece to follow its melody, begins quietly and utterly unconsciously humming along.

Listening to Rangin, Nia nods with each piece of information. Part of her wants to ask What in the holy hell have you been waiting for? but she zips such thoughts up. It's his first command, and besides, everything she's heard about the guy--not including various accusations by Booker--indicates that he's the cautious, wait-and-see type.

Maybe that lack of speed has even been warranted here. Neither Singh's report or Nia's reading of the situation now implies that the hostages are in imminent danger. But Singh wants the hostages freed ASAP, so ASAP it'll be.

"Good, thanks," she says, and lowers her voice. "Reason I asked Mr. Suave back there to leave the room... we're still not completely ruling out the Krako folks as being involved, right? If there's anything suspicious you haven't been able to report on in front of them, now's your chance.

"Meanwhile. The guys in the room with the mainframe are a complication... but also an opportunity. Once they see the missing computer, they're sure to contact the three guards with the hostages. And when that doesn't work, they'll probably try anyone else involved--assuming there is someone else. If we listen in and get a name... or follow 'em wherever they go, if they flee... it'd be a huge help to T'Var and the others."

Not using the actual team leader's name seems like the best move. The omission might seem obvious, but maybe Rangin'll realize her intentions are good. No point in inviting any tension by reminding him of her connection to Booker.

She takes a deep breath. She realizes now she's delaying things... but screw it, she's had a total of ten minutes to get up to speed on this mission and she needs to think things through. "So here's the first half of the plan. We start by waiting near the apartment with the hostages. I'll give the order to beam everyone out. We're only there to make sure the beam-up goes smoothly. We go in only if the ship can't grab 'em for some reason."

One shoulder lifts in an impatient shrug. "Can't imagine the tech here could possibly cause a problem for our transporters, but I'm not risking their lives on my imagination. What do you think, Rangin? This all sound logical to you? I have to contact Garcia to tell him his role, but I want to hear your judgement first."