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

The light. Hurts.

Though her arm seems to weigh 80 kilos, Nia manages to flop her elbow across her forehead. She must've fallen. Hit the deck. Got conked out for a few minutes.

Looking hazily around, she sees four Mäkeläinens hovering over her, a couple of sleeping Rangins and about eight Double-Ts close by. Nauseous, she grimaces and closes her eyes. "No offense Doc but your meds taste like unfiltered swamp sludge."

At least there are no tusky hairballs in the vicinity. "No Chalnoth," she mutters. "Guess Uwat Security's competent after all, huh Book?"

The belated realization that she doesn't actually see him splashes her mind awake like a bucket of ice water. She struggles to push herself up, searching the room again until her squinting gaze lands on the quartet of Mäkeläinens, which resolves into a solo act. "Where's Booker?" she whispers. "And Kylah? Status report, now."

The Doctor's relief is palpable (though there is still Lt. Rangin to consider— at least he appears temporarily stable). He wants to thrust a bottle of water into her hand, but he has packed no such thing in his medkit. With frustration, he realizes he will have to ask the guard for a cup of water. Does she understand Federation Standard? Quite possibly, if she is truly Tal Shiar, though she could just be muscle. He would rather not embarrass himself trying to employ haphazardly remembered Romulan words and phrases, although he is sure he knows the right word for "water", and, worst case, he can pantomime it. First, however...

"I am elated that you are back with us, Lieutenant," he says unnecessarily formally, hoping she will pick up that something is wrong. He pitches his voice low. "Status— you need to focus— this ship is under Tal Shiar command. They have their own security. The leader says they are not concerned with us, yet she insisted on taking Graham and Kylah out for some kind of briefing. Whatever she has to show us, we have been diverted, destination unknown, nowhere near Cavinre. We're caught up in something, and we need you. Rangin is still out, no estimate yet when he will wake up."

Nia's vision has improved but her brain's getting more jumbled with each nugget of information Mäkeläinen reveals. Romulans? It feels like she's only been out for a few minutes--but apparently it's been enough time for the ship to be attacked and boarded?! Not possible. Is she even actually awake?

She stares from the Doc to Rawlings for confirmation that all this is real. Then, despite the disbelief and outrage battling inside her, she tries to gather her fraying wits. First things first: the crew.

"The Romulans aren't here for us, yet they've taken our C.O. and an ensign. You're sure the two of them are safe?"

An inane question. Even if they were safe before, no one knows if they're safe now. She focuses, trying to keep alert. "What is the bloody Tal Shiar doing here? Why hunt down some crappy little ship? I can't fathom the Uwat were carrying any cargo valuable enough for the Tal Shiar to go after them."

That leaves passengers....maybe the Chalnoth got into some skirmish with Romulans and were on the run. If so they picked a slow friggin' getaway ship. And if not them...

Nia stares at Rawlings and Dr. M. "Is it the Vulcans they want?" she asks softly.

This question's not inane--it's just obvious. Of course it's the Vulcans. They're at the center of the Federation. Maybe the group on the Doregg are involved in some diplomacy. The religion thing was probably a ruse. They could be dignitaries, even members of the High Command or Vulcan Intelligence. Anyone on some undercover--

As if sucked out by an open hatch, the remaining brain fog dissipates. She gapes at her colleagues.

"Oh fuck no," she whispers. "Please tell me they are actually Vulcans. Please tell me we weren't played like raw cadets and the Romulans haven't been right in our faces the whole time." Despite her rising disgust she can't help a bitter chuckle. "Man, when we get back, Vargas is gonna personally rip the bars from my sleeves once he reads our AMRs."

The thought of returning to the Yorktown hammers home the one of the last things the Doc told her: Diverted.

Nia digests it all with a shudder that she manages to quell before gazing evenly at Mäkeläinen.

"Except Cavinre's off the itinerary." Her flat words are dry as her skin, dry as her throat and the burning sands of Sidonia. "Guess I'd better get my report written up fast."

Graham nods, grunts, and complies.

On the way he taps the side of his head. "Sorry, head's still ringing."

Unable to avoid sending a resentful look at Aval for her disrespect toward Lt. Graham, Kylah flicks her gaze back down when she steps onto the ladder. "The Uwat's 'Security Protocol' attack affected us all cruelly, sir," she says--untrue, at least in her case, but she feels duty-bound to back him up. "You need not apologize for reacting to an overzealous, indiscriminate use of force."

She starts her own descent, glancing down to gauge what lies beneath, if she can see anything past Lt. Graham and the Romulan who preceded him. Kylah also reaches out with all her other senses, from hearing to mental to scent, to judge whether anything else seems different the farther down she climbs.

Dr. Mäkeläinen grimaces. "They had their cover story, we had ours. Only, for them, it looks like it was not too much trouble to obtain our real names, ranks, and complete files for all I know. We, lack as much as a communicator--- but why? And why be they going loud, as it were, on this boat? The fact they have, by itself, is telling. The ship's crew, uncertain yet if they were coerced, paid off, or simply caught by surprise.

"It is early to draw conclusions, but, as Lt. Graham pointed out, so far they have been strictly correct about respecting our status as neutral bystanders. Speaking of which, let me ask for some water."

He catches Rawlings's eye to show what he is up to. The Doctor moves over to the cabin door. He raps a couple of times to get the guard's attention, then steps back and stands non-threateningly in the middle of the cabin. If the Romulan guard responds, he will ask her haltingly (in part performatively, but he does not have a background in conversational Romulan like Kylah), "sseulaiin... hnnieth..." "Please... water." I got those words from a random site on space Google, but imagine he can come up with something close to the canonical ones picked up from his own exposure to space media and natural curiosity.

In any case, when they are again alone, he resumes softly, "We have been promised timely medical care. But the nature, and location, of said medical facility is, as you've guessed, unknown."

Graham and then Kylah climb down the ladder. TS2 already has the door open off the small landing beside the ladder. The air is definitely colder here than it was one deck up. Maj. Aval climbs down after Kylah and gestures with her weapon down the dimly-lit corridor beyond. "Keep going, please," she says. Both Romulans remain alert and well out of arm's reach.

The Tal Shiar guard outside the cabin says something in Romulan which Dr. Mäkeläinen doesn't understand. From her tone of voice, it sounds like a question.

Graham moves to comply, albeit slow walking it a little bit, playing up post-knock-out-blast effects by bracing himself with an arm against a wall.

"Sure...but any idea why it's so cold down here, Major?"

Rubbing her arms, Kylah wishes to know the same question. This middle deck has been noticeably cold since they arrived, and appears to be the source of the icy floor up above in their cabin. They must leave it unheated, in which case it is likely for cargo. If there is some freight aboard this transport ship that troubles the Romulans, Kylah cannot imagine what it could be, and--even more to the point--what it has to do with her, Lt. Graham, or the rest of the crew.

By the time the bedraggled sextet boarded the Doregg, they had almost no belongings--most having sunk with the shuttle--and nothing more alarming than the standard Starfleet weapons that were taken from them before they left the Ollos Starport. With disruptors brandshed in their strong grips, the Romulan women should hardly consider a confiscated Phaser-1 a threat.

And why are they keeping such distance from them, as if Lt. Graham and Kylah are feral beasts ready to attack no less than three guards? They are unarmed, groggy--at least Lt. Graham was, earlier--and in Kylah's case, manifestly physically weaker than even the smallest of their captors.

So this is the much-storied Tal Shiar! Contempt lowers her brow into a scowl. She looks forward to reporting that the intimidating Tal Shiar recruit cowards. Feared by the whole Quadrant, yet they quake from a weaponless girl in a bodysuit. Aldaan will make use of that. She blinks in sudden thought of the time since she sent her uncle the distress message. 'Two hours to send, two hours to receive,' the Uwat operator had said. He should have responded long before now.

"If there is something amiss in the hold," she says, trying to keep her tense voice even, "It was here before we boarded. You have been on this ship far longer than we. You must know we brought almost nothing with us."

Mäkeläinen looks at Rawlings, who has not said much but is clearly paying attention. Any help there? Lt. Onn is back to reasonable mental condition, to his relief, but would she have studied languages like Romulan?

What would the guard's orders have been? To make sure no one enters or leaves the room until Aval gets back? He tries repeating the word in Vulcan, then Terran English: "Water." He declaims in the latter language, careful to sound reassuring: "I give you my word as a physician this is no trick." She may or may not get the drift, even if she is not fluent.

"How is your head?" he quietly asks Nia. "Looks like you were spared the worst of that stun. That's a bit of luck on your side."

Rawlings shakes his head. "Sorry, Doc. I don't know any Romulan."

The guard outside says something else which Dr. Mäkeläinen doesn't understand.

"Yes, Mr. Graham," says Maj. Aval, almost grimly, "I have a very good idea indeed of why it's so cold down here." She nods to Kylah. "And yes, I understand. But come. You must have noticed the cold deck above, and wondered about it? Of course you did. The Uwat are little-known to the Federation, I believe. Even those who know them well find that they are easy to overlook." She leads you farther down the narrow, dimly-lit corridor, then presses a key which opens a thick door at its end. A draft of even colder air washes over you; you can now see your breath in the air.

She continues, "They do not amount to much as a species, to be blunt. All in all, they are neither warriors nor healers, neither scientists nor explorers, neither poets nor musicians. I assure you that their literature is worthless; their most cherished history a crashing bore. Other than their odd practice of bringing their children along with them into space, they are known to my people for two things, in particular." She gestures, and the four of you enter an even more dimly-lit room beyond.

The major takes a few steps away from you, deeper into the gloom, approaching what appears to be a hull structural support. It is an irregular column about a half a meter thick which reaches from the deck to the overhead (ceiling). "First, the Uwat have a particular talent for cryogenics," she says, tapping another key on the column, turning on blinding white lights which reveal a compartment much larger than any other you have yet seen aboard the Doregg.

It is filled with row upon row of frosty, coffin-like units mounted horizontally about waist high, with a tangle of tubes and gnarled cords running from each into the deck. There must be close to a hundred of them.

"And second," the major says, "they are slavers."

"Son of a bitch..."

The words slip unbidden from Graham's lips as he takes in the scene.

Still looking over the cryo units, he says, "That whatever-the-hell-it-was protocol. Id bet that was developed to stamp out slave uprisings, should any somehow get free..."

There's a knot in his chest. As a Terran, he grew up with history lessons about a long, shameful history of slavery by some of the mightiest and allegedly enlightened nations of old Earth.

A lot of blood had to be spilled to end it.

And yet even today, within the Federation...it was happening under their noses.

Kylah gapes at the room, which is simultaneously full yet empty, the cloud of her breath only briefly veiling the eerie, sterile sight.

"Or the stun is how they created slaves," she whispers to Lt. Graham. "Or both."

Hugging herself even tighter, she walks slowly, entranced by an uncanny sense of vastness. One hundred or so units--people--is not normally a vast number. But in this circumstance... it is almost incomprehensible.

Each step is as light and measured as that of an entranced ballerina; as if she fears disturbing sleepers. There might not be anyone currently inside, of course, but then...why would the machines be working? Or so frosted over?

Just as she reaches one of the containers, her hoarse voice raises slightly to address Aval. "Are these slavers why the Tal Shiar is here? You knew of this?"

Even while speaking, she wrenches her left hand from its grip on her shoulder and touches trembling fingers to the unit--or, if the case is too cold, hovers her palm as close as possible to whatever, whoever is inside.

Kylah holds her breath, looks down, and focuses on making her mind vulnerable and receptive to any hint of consciousness, any flicker of emotion. Can she see anything? Can she sense anything?

Nia is busy calculating the odds that wherever this ship is heading now, the Romulans'll be fine dropping a Starfleet crew off at some neutral outpost or starbase or colony with a nice, shiny, technologically up-to-date medical facility. Her thoughts are interrupted by the doctor's optimistic comment.

"Oh yeah, I'm on quite the winning streak," she mutters darkly, watching him attempt to knock the concept of "water" into the Romulan guard's brain. She should actually know this. When any Sidonian first met aliens from Starfleet, the first questions asked were about the myths that they lived in places where water was everywhere. While learning Fed Standard, Nia also took the time to learn the word for "water" in every language she could. It fascinated her that some cultures had more than one word for it. Sidonians have hundreds of nuanced ways to describe poison. Of course, her language included hand gestures, body movements and facial expressions that no Universal Translator could mimic.

Though she struggles for a bit, Nia gives up dragging the Romulan word for "water" from her memory. Even if the memory's still there, her head's way too fuzzy and tired and dull to offer it to her.

She offers a weak smile. "All I know is, I feel woozy and I've got some absolutely repulsive aftertaste." She grimaces. "I don't get it, did they dose us? Did you give me some medicine?" At last the question occurs to her: "Wait, you think I was spared--what did they do to you guys?" She looks worriedly at Rawlings, then Rangin (whose hand she pats gently, hating that he's still dead to the world).

She keeps staring at her hand, frowning, and suddenly her eyebrows lift in recognition. Of course. Some things are more universal than speech, certain descriptive shapes included. Raising her hand, she holds it with her palm down, fingers horizontal.

At the same time, her mind whispers an accompanying word to her. But she doesn't voice it. She doesn't trust her thought process and can't be sure if that's the right word in the right language. And all she needs is to accidentally call the guard some insulting obscenity. Because along with the multiple alien language words for "water" she's learned countless curses, too.

Instead, she just says: "Doc. Ask the Romulan--this?" Her fingers, held closely together, start moving--stiffly at first, but soon their movement smooths a bit until they look like they're rippling: the shape of an invisible wave.

"Ship-wide stun field, the Major said, and that matches what I can tell. The trouble with a defense like that is, it is indiscriminate--- hits everyone in the room simultaneously--- and you have to use a rather high amount of power to be sure of affecting everyone, large, small, different species and neural physiology. There is little margin for error. I myself have a piercing headache, dissipating all too slowly. If someone were especially susceptible---" the Doctor leaves the rest unsaid. She can see Rangin for herself.

"That is... a good idea," he says in response to Nia's showing him the hand gesture. "I am sure I can get the point across. The question is, will she risk opening the door? We are still locked in." He saw Aval activate the lock as she left, earlier having had all the time in the world to reprogram it to her specifications. Just to be sure, he tries the pad on the inside.

Squinting as she tilts her head to see beyond Mäkeläinen, Nia sighs. "Oh. Crap. I thought she had the door a little open." She girds herself, clasps hold of the edge of the upper bunk, and hoists her weary body up. "My eyes hurt a little but yeah, otherwise I'm just... I don't know. Sorry you guys got the worst of that stun field. Maybe it's calibrated for humans?"

She slowly moves closer to the door, resting a hand on Double-T's shoulder for leverage and to give him a squeeze of support as well. Then she joins the doctor, leaning against the wall, tired already from the effort of being upright.

"We're sick in here," she says weakly to the door, slapping her palm limply against it. "We're unarmed. No threat. Please just open up."

Nia aims a flat, annoyed stare at Mäkeläinen--although, of course, her annoyance isn't directed at him. "They're holding every card," she says in an undertone. "And you said they have disruptors. What the hell are they so afraid of?" She doesn't even bother mentioning the incompetence of the Tal Shiar's having someone going undercover as a Vulcan who can't understand a word of Fed Standard.

Crossing her tired arms, she sighs again. "Doc, I know it's just been a day or so, but... how are the meds holding out? You said the...damn it, I forget the name... the main stuff that's tiding over my Bilitrium deficit... that's just one dose a day, right? So we should be good there."

Wow, I can still pull optimism outta my ass? Still got it. "...But I haven't been keeping track on the Lexorin. That's what's really keeping me awake now, right? I'm sorry, I should remember, but..." Her words trail off and she ends in a helpless shrug. The end of that sentence is pretty easy enough to fill in.

Maj. Aval says, "Yes, we of the Tal Shiar are here because of those held in these cryo units. Nine of them are Romulans, captured from one of our outposts, although there are others."

Each of the units, Kylah now sees, has a faceplate a few dozen centimeters on a side, rimed with frost. The first one she looks at contains some kind of scaly gray alien with three closed eyes. The units are also not identical, she and Graham realize; about twenty of them are bigger - almost twice the size of a typical humanoid - and perhaps another dozen are smaller. The units are cold to the touch, but not painfully so. She gets no psi impression from any of them.

The door to Onn's and the others' quarters remains shut and locked, despite the doctor's pressing of buttons on the keypad beside it. The Tal Shiar guard outside says something emphatically once, twice, then falls silent.

"Right," mutters the Doctor. "Good thing we don't have a medical emergency on our hands." He feels, perhaps irrationally, that the failure lies with him: there should be a way to communicate. And he himself could have studied the languages of neighbouring powers like the Romulan and Klingon empires more systematically rather than satisfy himself with a few words and phrases (enough to get the gist of the medical jargon and--- on a good day--- order a dram of the local brain bleach. Such provincialism might be expected from a Terran; why could he not have been better?)

He turns back to Nia. "That is correct, about the--- there really isn't a short name for it, is there?--- the Bilitrium substitute. However, that assumes nothing changes, and, in my experience, relying purely on luck is a dangerous gamble." Sometimes, in medicine, there is little alternative--- there is only so much one can do. In a larger sense, are our lives not governed by main luck, as much as we may strive against it?

"This medical facility we were promised: do you know what planets and stations are in range? Even someplace in the Neutral Zone itself? If it is equivalent in technology to a Federation hospital, or superior, they should be able to synthesize more of that cocktail, or close to it, even if they can't or won't source pure Bilitrium. That is something, at least.

"My original prescription was to taper off the Lexorin, and for you to get as much rest as you can. Now--- if we cannot do that, I am authorizing you to continue taking it as needed to stay on your feet. You will be functional, but after this is over, your body will take some time to recover."

He is silent for several long moments. Eventually he says, "I confess I know very little of the Tal Shiar." They prefer to remain an ominous, nebulous threat, he suspects, especially in the heart of Romulus itself. "A disruptor could be standard issue for them, to be carried on all missions. Consider Starfleet away teams--- we have those little phasers. They have a variety of conceivable uses, more so than a disruptor, but even they can be set to kill. Tal Shiar, now--- a weapon must be standard kit, whether or not they expect to need one, and if we somehow managed to get the drop on the guard out there and pluck that disruptor out of her hands, something tells me she will not be left bare. Ah, at least that would be true for the Major. Mistress Uhlan out there," he says less seriously, "We could get past without too much trouble."

The guard having seemingly given up on them, Nia sends a vicious look at the Romulan through the door and turns away to lean against the desk. "Well, T might have no problem getting past her. With help from your..." She's not sure how to refer lightly to the Doc's wonder-arm, so she just nods toward it. "But we don't really know how many of these Romulans there are. At this point I'm not trusting a word outta their mouths. Generally sound policy," she mutters.

"Plus, who knows what backup security measures they've got in place if we escape? I mean, they've surely figured out how to use whatever zappers the Uwat have. Had. Are they even alive?" Note: She was still unconscious when Kylah asked for the death totals.

Nia remembers the kids. Romulans are cold motherfuckers but unless they were directly attacked, even she's gonna give them enough credit to assume little beings half their size wouldn't be a big enough threat to eliminate.

She massages her temples, glad to close her eyes and hide her defeat from the others. "Nearby planets. Let me think. Hard to judge, given how far off course we went, and I don't know the exact route the Uwat were taking us on. But on our original course to Cavinre, there were a couple of Federation systems with unoccupied planets, probably uninhabitable atmospheres for you guys.

"And I think there was a rogue planet in there somewhere. Possible to inhabit those, but one with a decent medical facility? Doubt it. The best I could hope for is that it had a huge repository of Bilitrium hidden there. The odds of that would be literally astronomical."

A dry chuckle combines with a cough. The odds of coming across frickin' Romulans--Tal Shiar Romulans no less--on a random crapbucket like this in the middle of the ass-end of nowhere were pretty unfathomable too. But here they are, not just fathoming it but living it. So she probably should be less free with her predictions.

"Anyway," she continues when she gets her cough under control, "In neutral territory there was our good pal Ollos, obviously. And Grinden V." She frowns. "Four. And actually, by now, Grinden's probably the closest. Once things went pear shaped and we lost our engines, I remember they were still on our Cavinre course but farther from us than Ollos. That's why they weren't an option. But maybe by now we're nearer? I dunno. All this means nothing if the Romulans already changed course."

Nia drops her hand to look up at T and Mäkeläinen. And Rangin, on the off-chance he can hear her. But her tired gaze lands on the other two. "Did Aval say if we've already changed course? And T, what's your opinion of our offensive capabilities as far as getting outta here? That's not my area of expertise. None of this is." Not even engineering, apparently. After a hesitation, she tries on a smile. "And for a question that really matters: Doc, who the hell is Mistress Uhlan?"

Graham nods and turns to Aval. "Well, if what you're here to do, major, is rescue your people who've been taken by slavers, then speaking as a Starfleet security officer, no matter what higher-ups might have to say, I have zero problems with that." He pauses. "And we--my team--still has a serious medical situation to deal with. I hope we can find a way forward where on one gets hurt, and..." He needs a moment as the thought of Nia not making it back hits him. "And everyone goes home."

So many beings. Living, but not. Assuming they truly are still alive. Kylah walks slowly down the aisles and rows, looking into each faceplate. She can imagine a Uwat guard doing the same, taking a gloating headcount of their victims. Their inventory. She shudders. She will note any identifiable races, although if the Uwat focused on non-Federation territories... What could they have been thinking, going after Romulans?

She nods at Lt. Graham's words. There are questions burning in her mind--not enough to warm her body, much less the core of her soul, which has shrivelled into a leaden ball of ice at the thought of such cruelty. If she is desperate to get answers, surely her CO is even more so. But he must focus on their ill comrades, and she will follow his lead. Velir needs help. And Lt. Onn needs...I do not know.

Rubbing her arms again, she pauses in her journey through the units, sends a quick glance to Lt. Graham to confirm she knows their priorities, and then faces Aval. "I am sorry for the nine Romulans. It was brave of you to make such a rescue on your own, rather than with a ship. You had the intel from the start to know your people were on board, yet you courageously went undercover yourselves for quite some time, instead of a full attack..."

But why did they only commandeer the Doregg now and divert it? Because 'everything changed.' What did that mean? Did they receive some new intelligence this afternoon? Were they waiting for backup to arrive? Oh! Kylah grows still and cannot help seeking out Lt. Graham's gaze. Are there now Romulans nearby--a cloaked Bird of Prey, perhaps--or soon to meet them?

With this new fear, Kylah resumes her grim examination of this not-quite cemetery and peers into the faceplates, uncanny as the experience is. "Those we set free must be retrieved from these--these prisons. Your people will surely need special care to recover from their ordeal."

If she comes to a cryogenically frozen Romulan, she will stop before them and again rest a hand on the case. "And all these strangers will require a way to their homes." The logistics are staggering. So many different destinations.

"Are you taking us someplace with advanced medical facilities? If so, then our own needs are in alignment. Please, Major, you revealed all this to us for a reason. We can help you with assisting the captives, particularly in shepherding the non-Romulans home. But we must get to a medical facility as soon as possible. Is the Doregg capable of faster flight?" She pauses. "Who is at the ship's helm? Not still the Uwat Captain?"

Bizhi hopes his statement about jumping the guard has not been taken even semi-seriously as a suggestion. He has no intention of making any non-medical move at the moment beyond waiting for Lt. Graham to return. As for executing such a plan, he might be able to mess with the door electronics with the micro tools in his cybernetic arm and get it open, eventually, but (on his own, anyway) he would not be certain of not tripping all sorts of alarms while doing so, and, even if he were, what are the odds the guard would be caught so, well, off-guard that she would not have time to fire off a couple of blasts? None of this he wishes to discuss out loud, under the circumstances, even if the door guard herself does not, or is putting up an excellent semblance of not being able to, hear or understand the conversation.

He replies to Nia's question: "I meant our friend out there with the itchy trigger finger, whose job is not worth risking handing prisoners a measure of water. 'Uhlan' is the conventional translation of the Romulan military rank." He thinks for a moment. "Not sure wherefore that precise word--- it is not quite Standard, is it? One might also say Lancer, or Speculator."

"We need to have a discussion with the Major. She may mean to transfer off this vessel soon--- unless she means to haul it all the way back to Romulus as a prize? The question is, how generous is she willing to be to be to ensure we are not indefinitely stranded again? On that subject, what are the odds of getting our money back from the Uwat? They have spectacularly failed to hold up their end of the deal, even though it would be hard to argue with a plea of force majeure. Unless they were merely bought off."

"I did not understand that any of the crew have been eliminated," he adds softly, "though my grasp of conversational Romulan, as you have seen, leaves something to be desired. Not that we were told anything about what actually happened."

When the doctor first mentions that the guard is unlikely to open the door--not news to her, but hard to hear nonetheless--Nia bends her head again and takes a swift, caged-animal look around the cabin for some kind of ductways or panels that could lead to escape.

But the more he speaks, the more fruitless it all seems and she finds herself getting confused. She searches Mäkeläinen's face, like she's hunting for one wonky strand in a nest of tangled wires. She's not understanding him--not the way she should. She can't tell if it's a her problem or a him problem. T isn't saying anything to indicate the doc's not making sense, so... it's probably her. Her gaze flickers from his mouth, forming the words, to his eyes, which will--hopefully--clarify the meaning of what he's saying.

"You know more Romulan than me," she says at last, when her prolonged silence after his comment seems noticeable. "Or than I remember. About the Major beaming off... You mean...to another ship? But--I don't understand. Why would she take over only to abandon us?"

Being carted off to Romulan space seems preferable to just being left, possibly disabled, to drift uselessly lightyears from anywhere. For days. With the Chalnoth, presumably. And no help. No air.

Maybe he was joking. Like the Uwat refund. Nia genuinely can't tell with the Doc. And she again doesn't know if it's his own demeanor, so dry that humor is difficult to distinguish from straightforward sincerity, or her own failing brain.

She used to have one of the fastest minds on the ship. Even Vargas's evaluations of her work--frank to the point of acerbic about her judgment and irreverence--always included grudging acknowledgments of her intelligence and quick thinking. Now it feels like her synapses are covered in muck.

"Dr. Mäkeläinen, I--" Nia blinks. "Shit, I don't think I even know your first name. Did we ever get fully introduced? Maybe we did and I just forgot." The last word is glum, and she bites her lip before continuing. "That's just it. I don't feel right. I'm slow. I'm making mistakes. I have to ask, how long... Even with the fake stuff and the Lexorin..."

She can't look at Double-T. It's embarrassing and weak and she hate hate hates having to have this discussion in front of him. Any crewmember, but especially someone close. But if the guard won't even let 'em out for some water, Nia highly doubts a private suite's forthcoming. At least Book's not here, thanks to Sid'hos's mercy.

So she sucks it up and forces the question out. "How long before my brain cells start getting damaged? ...Permanently?"

Rawlings says thoughtfully, "The Romulan major made no mention of a course change, just that we'd have access to medical treatment elsewhere. As for offensive capabilities," he frowns a little, "they have all the weapons and we have none. If I get the drop on one of these Tal Shiar agents, I'm sure I could put her down, but I'm also sure we won't like what the others do next, if we can't move quickly to take back the ship."

Kylah, looking among the cryo units, sees two Caitians, one female and one male; at least five of what appear to be Earth-normal Humans; three Rigellians, a Tellarite, an Uwat, three Chalnoth and a Romulan - or is it a Vulcan? She cannot be sure. TS2 follows her, not far away but not too close, disruptor at the ready.

Maj. Aval says, "We will be bringing home the Romulans held here, of course, and will see to the eventual conveyance of the rest to a neutral world. Where that will be is being decided by my superiors even now. As to your other questions... for security and operational reasons, I am not at liberty to say."

Onn sees no ducts or paneling that might offer an escape from the cabin.

All of your headaches are slowly diminishing. Kylah and Graham, however, are becoming increasingly cold.

It is somehow worse for Kylah to recognize the races with whom she has interacted. Her gaze lands on the Romulan and she does, indeed, place a respectful hand on the cryo unit. "I am sorry to see one of your people," she begins, but then offers a wan smile. "Or is this a Vulcan? I suppose I cannot trust my judgment..."

Belatedly her mind takes in the others she sees. Three Chalnoth. Are these the dead of whom Aval spoke, placed here by the Uwat for holding purposes prior to the Romulans' takeover? Or are they the three Velir and Lt. Onn encountered earlier, injured by what she assumed was Velir's doing. It makes sense that the Uwat would take advantage of the opportunity for three more slaves.

Like a key turning the tumblers of a lock, recognition of something abnormal starts to click, and she carefully inches back to one of the units. Did she really identify the sight correctly? When she looks down a second time, she still sees it. "An Uwat?" she whispers to herself, teeth starting to chatter from the frigid surroundings. She frowns in disbelief. "I d-do not understand. They would enslave one of their own? That does not seem likely. It does not--"

It does not make sense, is of course what she was about to say. Of course, perhaps one of the Uwat died during the takeover after all, despite what Major Aval claimed. That could indeed be so. But suddenly the last tumbler falls and the puzzle might be unlocked--a possible answer, at least. Not a pleasant one. Kylah is more starkly aware that she and Lt. Graham are down here, alone, for no real reason.

The Romulans are not seeking help from Starfleet for the Federation victims who must be taken to a neutral planet. So what do they plan to do with the Tesla crew?

She swallows and turns to Aval. "Thank you for alerting us to this, M-major. I am sure Starfleet will appreciate the extraordinary goodwill in returning everyone safely. Our ship knows we are here on the Doregg, too," she says, covering the remark with a significant look toward Lt. Graham. "Our First Officer will not consider it to our credit that we did not help discover this abominable activity ourselves."

Attempting to step closer to him, Kylah wraps her arms more tightly around her chest. "S-sir, am I right that we have seen all we need to? If we can be of any assistance, Major, we will be glad to do whatever you ask, but if not--might we please be allowed to return up to our cabin? I think the others should be notified that everything is being taken care of respectfully and professionally. And to be honest, it is very uncomfortable down here."

She sends a pleading look to her senior officer, wondering if her fears are the result of the stress of the past few days--or if, as cold as they are now, the two of them are one wrong word away from the danger of being made infinitely colder.

The Doctor's eyes do not leave Nia's, but they grow unfathomably distant for a moment as he ensures his memories are accurate.

"The Major promised us access to a medical facility," he says, "moreover, at least as soon as we would have had going to Cavinre as planned. Let as assume she was telling the truth. The nature and quality of this facility remain unspecified. So does its location--- not on this ship, clearly, but whether she means to transfer us to another ship, a planet, a starbase, a deep-space station--- of that she said nothing. I had my hands full at the time, but I was a coof not to ask her. All we know for sure is that we are definitely not landing in Cavinre.

"So, in a day or two, we alight. Somewhere. Strictly speaking, she will have treated us correctly, and we are no longer her problem. Unless the Tal Shiar, as well as our own importance, deserve more credit than we figure, we are here by chance, therefore at best an impediment to her mission. Why would she not abandon us?"

Nia's fateful question--- she needs not to focus on that to the exclusion of all else. But Bizhi cannot prevaricate in response to such a query. He would want to know, too. He lays it out: "If nothing changes, if we are home within a week, you shall be fine. Eventually. Beyond that, all bets are off. However, I won't let it come to that. As a last resort, cryosleep, stasis, metabolic inhibitors--- whatever they have at this facility, you won't be walking and talking, but it beats lying in pain, wondering if you have the strength to take another breath." He catches himself.

After too long a tense moment the emotion sublimes, and his usual cool demeanor returns. "You may call me Bizhi if you wish. That's my name, and we don't stand on ceremony where I come from." He feels like they have together been through a lot already, yet he has never met either of these two on a social occasion.

Graham, in turn, nods at Kylah's words. He reciprocates and moves a step close to her.

"Indeed - I think we do not have conflicting interests, here, major," he says, addressing the Romulan. "Or reasons for doing anything rash. That's something I would like to communicate to our colleagues in person, as soon as possible."

"I understand," Maj. Aval says. "And I can see that the cold is bothering you. I don't like it much myself, frankly. Let's go back up now." She gestures with her hand, back towards the curious ladder.

Relief weakens Kylah's knees, but fortunately her muscles are already quite taut from guarding against the cold, so she does not even stumble. Her exhaled breath clouds around her as she moves gratefully to the ladder. She will wait for Lt. Graham's choice as to whether he wishes to lead during the ascent.

Meanwhile, she cups her hands to her mouth and blows some warmth into them; they too are stiff from the atmosphere, and grasping the ladder's handholds could be a little awkward without loosening them up. If she had known they were heading to such a frozen chamber, she would have asked for the mittens she handed to Lt. Onn back at the nightclub.

"I hope she and Velir are awake again," she murmurs suddenly to Lt. Graham, voicing her wish before realizing the remark is something of a non sequiter. She doubts she needs to explain. The subjects of her concern--one more than the other--are doubtless not far from his own thoughts.

The doctor's words manage, by some feat of magic, to be both terrifying and reassuring. Nia watches him as closely as he does her, and nods slightly with each new piece of information and opinion.

When he's done, she looks down and rubs her legs, feeling the tiny bumps of scales beneath the green fabric of her suit. "Even the best facility in the Alpha Quadrant's not likely to have Bilitrium. It's pretty much the ship or nothing for me. So you might get to stuff me in a freezer for long-term storage. Just think, I was so thrilled to get outta that lake, when turning into a big ice cube in the Tesla might've bought me some time." She scoffs lightly. "That'll teach me to ignore the rule that a Captain should go down with her ship."

With a shake of her head, she lifts her gaze. "I'm very grateful for all you've done--all the effort and research and, well... just the whole thing. Bizhi," she adds, trying out the name. "Thanks. I'm not much for standing on ceremony either. Although I kinda feel we fast-tracked at least one part of the getting-to-know-you process. Even I don't usually share so much about various body parts after only, what, forty-eight hours of knowing a guy."

Her eyes shift archly to Rawlings. "Not a peep, mister. Except if I don't make it back, try and squash the general rumors that say otherwise. I ain't gonna be remembered as a celibate, but I'd like to pretend I had some discretion."

Nia returns to Bizhi with a wan, apologetic smile. "Sorry if this is inappropriate. It's my... my form of shields, I suppose. If we assume the worst, I'd rather spend my time making crappy jokes than whining about everything I did wrong. Or regretting what I didn't do."

"Now, there is no call for that kind of talk!" says Bizhi. "I mean, about going down with the ship and final farewells. You won't faze me with your so-called inappropriate jokes; you two don't want to know what the medical personnel get up to." Some, sooner or later, do not succeed in dealing with the stress, no matter what they do.

He looks back over at Rangin. His vitals were stable, what he was able to do with the available supplies helped, but, notwithstanding what may happen in a week's time, it is not Lt. Onn whom the Doctor is more worried about.

"I propose we wait a wee bit longer for the others to come back before making any fateful decisions. See what more we can glean from the Major. We also have to arrange access to the Common Room--- water, food, hot drinks, toilet facilities."

"The bathroom's close, if I remember Kylah right." And if the girl was telling the truth. Nia follows the doctor's gaze to Rangin. "What did they do to him?" she murmurs, not even sure which they she's talking about. "The thing that zapped us all unconscious... that was the Uwat doing that? Their... security protocol?" She squints, memory still a little fuzzy regarding the moments after first seeing the Chalnoth breaking into the cabin. "Or had the Romulans taken over by then?"

Nia's frown deepens. "But Rangin's been more or less out-of-it since our hallway incident. When the Chalnoth went down. So what was that? Could the Uwat have been practicing their security measures back then? And it just didn't affect me because..." Her hands lift up as if trying to weigh the air. "Reasons?"

She sighs, then grimaces. "My tongue still tastes like a dung pile. Sorry for that," she adds with a belated realization that she should be covering her mouth to protect them from her breath. With an apologetic glance at Rawlings, she shrugs sheepishly. "Did the rest of you wake up like this?"

After Onn's "forty-eight hours of knowing a guy" remark, Rawlings maintains an admirable poker face, as if to imply, What could I possibly have to say about a comment like that?

To her question about how everyone felt when you woke up, he says, "A nasty mouth and a splitting headache for me. My mouth is still about the same, blech, but my headache seems to be passing, at least."

Kylah and Graham ascend the ladder and are guided by Maj. Aval and TS2 back towards their cabin.

"We have not been able to talk to any Uwat," Bizhi says, "but the Major said it was the Uwat who initiated the stun field. We unwittingly created the perfect distraction, and the Romulans would have taken advantage of it.

"Nevertheless, convenient as it turned out for them, she denied their involvement in the hallway incident itself, and I find myself believing her. They were perfectly capable of sweeping through Uwat security at any time they chose, distraction or no distraction. In any case, it was clearly not the same Uwat security protocol. It was no crude stun dropped four people while you, standing right next to them, did not feel a thing. Lt. Rangin has not been himself ever since we boarded, probably longer. Whatever he is sensitive to, the question is not why it did not affect you, it's why it did affect the Chalnoth."

Smiling crookedly but briefly at Rawlings, Nia focuses on the information Bizhi is passing along. "Hmm. It could be as simple as the Chalnoth have more in common with Coridanites and humans. You're all warm-blooded, and the Uwat probably aren't. Neither am I. Maybe that first zap was intended to keep us cold-bloods out of harm's way? I dunno. I guess it doesn't matter since they got me in the end anyway."

She rests her elbows on her knee and scrapes her fingers through her hair. She desperately wants a swim, cold as she is. She just feels grungy. Looking at the door, not really seeing it, she ponders. "The three of 'em were playing a game... at least I think it was a game. Seemed low-tech, but pretty red stones... the leader guy was standing while the others were kneeling. Wouldn't deal me in or teach me the rules. Big shock," she mutters dryly. "They were so generous and welcoming otherwise."

"Anyway, they sure as hell didn't like us barging in on them. They're cagey as fu--as hell--so it's just as likely it was only a toy as it was war plans for the next Romulan-Chalnoth-Klingon battle. Probably just spite on their part. There was no pleasing them at breakfast."

Pushing her hair behind her ears again, she takes another glance at the door. "I really wanna see Booker and Kylah back here. I don't like this."

Kylah stays silent as long as she can, but her heartbeat is pounding in her ears and she is not entirely sure she would hear conversation if Lt. Graham were indeed speaking to the Romulans. With a preparatory breath, she waits until they reach the Common Room (unless they pause somewhere earlier).

"Major, there was a large stain on the deck." Her eyes scan for it now--and if it is indeed still there, she will point it out. "May I ask whence it came? I could not tell if it was some mechanical fluid or...something from an injury."

If she gets up the nerve and is not interrupting Lt. Graham, she will also ask,

- "There were so many freezer units, but I could not tell if they were all full. How many are trapped in there?"

- "Do you know who is buying them?" The words seem bilious in her mouth. "Who were the intended customers?"

- "Have you been trailing them for long? That is to say... is this a new situation, or has it been going on for a long time? If there have been many captives sold into slavery for years..."

She shuts her eyes against the thought. There may be no way to help them--or even find them. Who knows how many have gone missing, perhaps presumed dead, only to have been forced into labor--or worse--long forgotten by any authorities searching for them?

Her trip on Anubis might have ended this way, if it had not been obvious that all those attackers wished was money. And even if slavery had been their aim--though Kylah would surely not be anyone's first choice for a laborer and would not fetch much--with Starfleet and the Elasian Regency Council having particular interest in retrieving her, the search effort might have lasted longer.

But the unfortunates in the cryo units below? Any others who preceded them by months--even years? Their fates would be unknown all this time.

It is not for Kylah to offer assistance in this...rescue mission, or whatever Major Aval might call it. The team do not have the luxury of taking part in another unexpected voyage, with Velir and Lt. Onn sick and time particularly running out on the latter. And, of course, they are not mercenaries, free to do as they please.

Since the facades are long gone, Kylah asks the most obvious question of all:

- "After we speak with the others, madam, I do hope you will permit us to contact our ship. They will be pleased to find us safe. And--and if we are not to show up where they expect us to be, this will prepare them and not cause undue alarm."

"Sir," she adds with a sidelong glance at Lt. Graham by her side. "I am not overstepping myself in such a request, am I? Would that not be the prudent move?"

Graham shakes his head. "Not at all, ensign." He pauses. "Right now the Romulan Empire and the Federation are not in open conflict, and I suspect we all agree that we don't want to be a reason that might change - especially because we have no interest in preventing you from recovering your people from slavers, Major--and if the prisoners below are safe, we are purely interested in getting where we're headed on time and without incident."

Aval nods in acknowledgement of Graham's comment. To Kylah's questions, she says:

"The stain on the deck was from a Chalnoth casualty."

"We confirmed that almost every cryo unit was occupied."

"The Uwat keep many slaves for themselves, but they also sell some... surplus. It is a classified matter, but you can probably guess the buyers as accurately as I could inform you."

"I cannot tell you how long we have been preparing for this mission, or how long the Star Empire has known that the Uwat are slavers. That is also classified. Suffice to say, we didn't just coincidentally find ourselves in one of the Doregg's ports of call."

"You will speak to your Starfleet superiors, and be returned to Federation space, all in due time."

Presently you find yourselves back in front of the door to your quarters. TS3 unlocks and opens the door, and gestures with her disruptor for you to rejoin Onn and the others. The three Romulans remain wary, and just distant enough to guard against any attack.

Dr. Mäkeläinen would like to have a word with the Major, and, he assumes, so might some of the others, probably Nia. He looks Graham and Kylah over to verify that they are none the worse for wear. Soon they will all have a chance to speak privately--- monitored to an unknown extent by the Romulans, he still has to assume. He pauses for them to say something if they like, however he will not let the Major slip away and lock them back in before negotiating with her the conditions of their stay on the Doregg, in the short term, and something beyond vague promises about their fate afterwards.

Once the cabin door is open, Kylah immediately stares inside, looking to ensure the others are all right. Lt. Onn has awoken, she sees--a relief--but that changes to a pang of concern when she spies Velir, still unconscious. The Doctor and Ens. Rawlings seem to be as they were.

Her focus pivots back to her commanding officer. The Major's answers only elicited more concerns--especially whether Kylah will receive any communications sent to her--yet perhaps it is not wise to continue to engage. Lt. Graham will likely indicate his strategy.

But the matter of Aldaan's reply burns so intensely it even kindles the idea of trying to reach his mind. What possible explanation could she give? She cannot pretend, as she does with Velir, that it is all his doing. As frightening as this situation is, Kylah cannot undo twenty years of commands and warnings against revealing her abilities to anyone.

Besides, the respect and even affection she feels for Lt. Graham may not be enough to serve as a mutual link. She has never understood why her ability to communicate telepathically requires a deep emotional bond; it rarely seems to work that way in races for whom telepathy is normal. Among her people, Kylah's ability is quite the opposite of normal.

A tiny moan of frustration escapes her. Soon Major Aval will push them inside the cabin. "We appreciate what candor you can offer, Major," she says hurriedly before pleading into Lt. Graham's gaze. "Sir, is there anything you wish to ask?"

"'In due time' would be more comforting if I knew we had our, ah, medical situation fully in hand...if our doctor were to provide you with a list of supplies, would you consider having your team at least make inquiries if the chance arises?" He nods slightly. "The cost of which would be fully reimbursed by the Federation of course."

TS2 ushers Graham and Kylah back into the cabin.

Aval says to Graham, "I will certainly...."

At that moment the shipwide comm system crackles back to life. You recognize the highly amplified voice of Capt. Singh, sweeping from the Doregg's stem to stern: "ATTENTION, ROMULAN AND UWAT VESSELS. THIS IS THE FEDERATION STARSHIP YORKTOWN. HEAVE TO AND STAND BY. BE ADVISED THAT ANY HOSTILE ACTION TAKEN AGAINST ANY FEDERATION CITIZENS OR STARFLEET PERSONNEL ABOARD EITHER VESSEL WILL BE REGARDED AS AN ACT OF WAR, REQUIRING AN IMMEDIATE AND FULL RETALIATORY RESPONSE. PLEASE RESPOND AT ONCE."

To the end of his days, Rawlings would always say that his favorite memory of Starfleet service was seeing the expression on Maj. Aval's face at that very moment.

Then the Tal Shiar officer says something harsh to her subordinates, and the door to the cabin snaps shut again.

Somewhere, an alarm begins to sound.

The Yorktown itself. Mäkeläinen is less dismayed this time the door slams shut in his face. He scrutinizes Graham and Kylah for any sign that they are responsible for this development.

"I assume we are safer waiting in here, just a little longer, in the event the ship is being boarded," he says. He asks Kylah, "Can you check for an open comms channel to the Yorktown? It will surely be non-secure, but we can authenticate ourselves, let them know where we are, maybe get them to prioritize getting Rangin and Onn evacuated. What did you do out there?"

The near-simultaneous sight of their absent colleagues and the sudden sound of Captain Singh's voice nearly send Nia's heart thumping through her ribcage, and the surge of adrenaline is overwhelming. She chokes on her sharp inhale but gapes in a cocktail of shock, relief and admiration. "They're here?" she blurts, speaking alongside Bizhi's far more reasoned remark. Her focus is squarely on Booker. "What--how did you--"

But the meaning of Singh's words catches up with her, and her eyes first widen, then narrow. "'Vessels'." The word is edged with a buzz of...alarm, fear, anger, too much to name. "We're not alone."

Kylah's astonishment is amplified by the others' around her, but it does not outweigh the delight in Captain Singh's authoritative, familiar commands. Mixed delight, with the confirmation of her suspicion that the Romulans had a ship nearby, but she does not doubt in the Yorktown's ability to handle them.

She heads to the comm panel even Dr. Mäkeläinen speaks, and replies just as rapidly. "I thought the panels useless for outgoing messages; they did not seem to have the capacity. But an* Uwat I spoke with earlier did seem puzzled to learn that mine was not working. If he was not disingenuous, ours must have been broken or disabled--purposely or not. Since Lt. Thalen seems to have overridden the Doregg's system, I would not be surprised if he has managed to lift restrictions as well."

As her nimble fingers work at the panel, seeking a combination that she could not find successfully in her cabin, she speaks with blunt contempt. "They are slavers--the Uwat. The Major took us to witness the captives for ourselves. Nearly a hundred. In storage. Frozen." Swallowing at the quiet, eerie horror, she shakes her head. "The Romulans are here to rescue their own people, but have performed a service to all."

Meanwhile we blithely paid these vermin thousands of credits to travel aboard a slave transport. I practically tossed them money! The bitter truth shames her, but is not uttered--it serves nothing right now.

If she manages to find the outgoing signal control that eluded her last night, she will lean toward the speaker: "Attention Yorktown, this is Ensign Kylah. Do you read me? Kylah, hailing the Yorktown?"


* FYI I spent this whole year thinking this race name was pronounced 'you-watt'! That recent 'an' took me aback. Just me?

Nia tears her gaze from Book to watch Kylah walk with such purpose to the comm panel. It's not like the girl, no more than cringing on a bunk is like Nia. They seem to have switched places.

Disheartened, she leans over as far as she can to stare out the viewport. She wants to see the Yorktown, and any Romulan ship, if it's uncloaked. She raises a hand to the cold pane separating her from the stars. I shouldn't be here. I should be on the ship, at the helm. Facing the Romulans, not hiding inside here. What good am I?

Then she hears slaves and her head whips round back to Kylah. It's a terrifying word. She never thought of herself as a slave, back home, but throughout her earliest years at Utopia Planitia and the Academy, that's what people thought of Sidonian women. It's why her people aren't allowed into the Federation. Nia couldn't reconcile her culture with the image outsiders have of it. She despised how she and others were--are--treated, but... eventually she just accepted how damn lucky she was to be in Starfleet, and yes, really free. Or as free as her dependence on Starfleet's willingness to provide her with Bilitrium would allow. No one's paying her parents to put her at their mercy, or their sons' mercy, ever again.

A sudden image of those children laughing at her. That Uwat woman--the cargo officer, isn't that what Jol said?--tapping her shoulder. Was she being... chosen?

You're being paranoid. Stop it. Stop. It.

Sinking back onto what already feels like "her" space on the bed, she bends over and presses the heels of her hands in her eyes. It's the hypobilitria. Reduced breathable air playing tricks on her mind. The Uwat wouldn't have bothered with her. Her illness might've actually done her a favor by lowering her value. Her shoulders shake with her silent chuckle.

What kind of morbid thoughts are these? Her mind's really not all here. Her ship's nearby but they're still captive in a cabin that's part of a slave ship. The choking feeling's not just physical. Anger is filling her chest and constricting her lungs. She shifts to the doctor briefly. "Can I have more of that stuff? If we're almost home... no need to save it anymore, is there?"

Holding herself, returning her desperate eyes to Booker. "Why aren't they beaming us off of here?" she whispers to him, maybe too quietly to even be heard. "What strategy will Vargas take?"

Graham grunts. "I'm guessing Yorktown has her shields up--if there's a Romulan vessel nearby, they can't risk the ship to beam us off."

He nods. "You're safe here Doc, but--Rawlings, help me see if we can get this goddamn door open. And--Ensign Kylah best efforts to contact the ship. Keep it up."

Graham pauses and faces the group. "Look, listen up - if we can we are going to do everything we can to get the fuck off this ship and put Yorktown in the most advantageous situation it can be in. But Major Aval and her team--they were NOT seeking a confrontation or an act of war. Yorktown doesn't know that, but we do. I'm not asking anybody to sign up for the Be Nice to Romulans Association, but nobody gets hurt and everybody goes home is what we should be aiming for here."

Kylah finds that there is now a constant, low thrumming tone on all channels of the Uwat shipboard comm system. It wasn't there before; she doesn't recognize it and can't, for the moment at least, explain it.

Onn sees a glint of something outside, off in the distance, too large to be a star, but can't quite make it out.

Rawlings grins and says, "Aye, sir," to Graham, and steps over to the door to help him. "With hands and fingers, or something else?"

Dr. Mäkeläinen can see that Nia is struggling. Yet she is holding up admirably under the circumstances, he thinks. She will not be the only one to benefit from a bit of fresh air, literal and metaphorical. Somehow--- how did their ship locate them?--- they have avoided the fate of languishing in their cabin for an indefinite period, in her case slowly suffocating.

"There is certainly no point in rationing it," he says about her antidote. "Take the next dose, and, in case we need to move quickly, I have that hypo of Lexorin ready." His attention turns back to Lt. Rangin for a moment; that one does not seem likely to be ambulatory soon.

"Might this ship be shielded in some way?" he asks. "I presume they would not want--- slaves--- showing up on a casual scan. The Yorktown may not have have a lock on our location."

Unlike earlier, there is no guard to immediately contend with. The Doctor is interested in how Graham and Rawlings plan to get the door open. Simple strength will not get a door open if it is bolted, and as far as he knows they do not have any tools, mechanical or electronic. He stays with Nia and does not interfere, but after a little while he offers, "I am pretty sure I can open those maintenance panels."

Despite the circumstances, Graham can't help but laugh when the doctor offers his assistance.

"Well I was halfway inclined that Rawlings and I could use our think heads as battering rams, but if you can get those panels open--so much the better!"