Star Trek RPG - Mission #4: "Codex Aelyrr"

Hayes, the Xenosociology Officer, beams back from the Naradraen and comes to the Bridge. She looks tired but happy, and says to Singh, "I had a very long and fascinating talk with the High Priestess and some other Aelyrr, and probably got three or four tricorders' worth of information on their society. With your permission, ma'am, I'll turn in now."

"Of course," replies the Captain. "Well done, Mr. Hayes. You should know that Starfleet is sending another ship with an ambassador to open formal diplomatic relations with them, and I know they'll want a full report in the next few days."

"It'll be my pleasure, ma'am."

Nia stifles a yawn of her own once she sees Hayes. Her internal clock is somewhat mixed up. She slept for seven hours yesterday but, after waking, was unable to get back to sleep at her normal time. At least she was able to get a good eight hours' worth of face-mask time, so her head is clear even if she's physically out of sorts.

"Excuse me, Captain," she says once Hayes has left. "Will we be accompanying the Naradraen to safe space? We don't know who else is out there hoping for a chance at the Codex--or do we? Has Cmdr. Vargas had any luck with the prisoners? Must say, I'm curious about how those three from the shuttle are interacting with their former comrades, after the sabotage."

Once her conversation with Rangin is done, Collins decides it's as good a time as any, so she composes a message to Onn.

Lieutenant Onn, I wish to apologize for my extremely unprofessional behavior in the hallway when we left the debriefing. I reacted badly to your abruptly joining the conversation I was having with Commander Vargas. I hope that my actions don't affect the friendship we were attempting to build. Again, I am very sorry for my actions. Sincerely, Lt JG Jeremi Collins.

She rereads it a few times, then sends it off. Ball's in her court now. Collins sighs and returns to her panels.

Hayes leaves the Bridge.

Collins sends her message.

Singh tells Onn, "We'll be accompanying the Aelyrr to a rendezvous with the Watney, which will be bringing Amb. Phillips. Then we'll resume our mission to test Dr. Brold's prototype. Cmdr. Vargas has gotten a lot of bluster and insults from the Klingons, those few who will talk, and a sullen silence from the rest. Not much useful. They're being held separately, given the hostility they've expressed towards each other. Sounds like the Klingon ship was a real snakepit - not surprising for mercenaries, I suppose." She scratches her ear. "Tell me, Lieutenant, what do you think we should do with them? Let the Aelyrr take them along, perhaps to be executed, or keep them ourselves? And if we keep them, would it be to prosecute, to interrogate further, or to turn them over to the nearest Kllngon border outpost?"

http://i.imgur.com/QnxkEnK.jpg

Rangin nods at Collins' response and heads back to his terminal pondering what to do next. It's all quiet here and his mind keeps thinking back to wondering if Kylah has recovered from such long stints.

He thinks for a moment weighing up several options, should he slip out to see if she is alright...no, too stalkery and Graham would have a field day if he found out. Send another message to her, well, he'd done that already and is wondering where the reply is. They parted on reasonable terms after all.

Then something more amusing occurs to him, something Kylah might find more appealing and besides, it is something he owes her anyway. He drops a brief message to Mr Johnson, who appears to be Kylah's friend, asking if he knew if Kylah had been to the Galley and if not, could he take her a treat. He would owe him a favour, of course, but it is to repay the meal that Kylah had given him not long ago. It seemed to be the kind of thing that Mr Johnson both enjoyed and excelled in.

Listening to Singh, Nia mulls over the options. "Well, ma'am, I suppose I'm of two minds--maybe more. The primary crimes committed by the Klingons were on the Aelyrr, and not in Federation space. Technically the Aelyrr would be entitled to... deal with them... as they see fit. But as you say, it probably would be execution--assuming Eris's actions are any indication of how they treat enemies. And I'm not comfortable with the idea of turning anyone over to a punishment that's harsher than anything Starfleet would dole out."

She feels her communicator buzz against her hip, but she's too deep in thought to reach for it. "I suppose it's probably up to Starfleet Command, but if I were somehow involved in the decision, I'd want to keep them and contact some Klingon officials to see how they react.

"Do we know if there are any Federation prisoners being held by the Empire? I know they're not huge on prisons, but for all I know there's some Federation planet now, negotiating with the Klingons to get some of their people freed. If that's the case, these prisoners could be useful. They might even be wanted criminals on the homeworld, for all we know. Of course, then we'd be abandoning them to another grim fate. Back at square one."

Nia shakes her head and lifts both arms in a gesture of helplessness. "And this is why I'm not a diplomat, Captain," she says with a rueful smile. "Honestly, my own inclination is to go down there and yell at them incoherently for injuring one of my colleagues. Which would be useless and only slightly satisfying.

"But in all seriousness... is there a way to play these mercs against each other? Offer immunity to some but not to others if they'll give up information? Someone adept in Klingon culture might have a chance. Mr. St. Croix, for example. Has she been given a go at them?"

Singh says, "No, I don't think she has. Why don't you go have a word with them, and take her along?" She smiles. "No incoherent yelling, though, please, unless you really think it would help."

In the middle of tidying his quarters after T'Var stayed the night, in the other bed he muses and not that he had a problem with that, Johnson receives a message.
Putting down the chess pieces and picking it up, he reads over it as a wide grin begins to split his face.

So Mr Rangin wanted to return the favour of the meal to Mr Kylah did he? Well, there should be some croissant remaining, that and a pot of hot chocolate, a few fancies. Yeah Given Ens. Kylah's upbringing, so posh breakfast nosh might go down a treat.

Finishing up, he heads off for the Galley, to see if she has been in that morning and if not, pick up the few items and head off to her quarters.

Nia smiles. "Incoherent yelling is probably how most Klingon negotiations are accomplished. But I promise I'll use it only as a last resort. I'll contact St. Croix and see if we can coordinate a visit once my watch is over. Thank you, ma'am."

Pulling out her communicator, she is surprised to see that the message she received moments ago is from Collins. I'm right here, why is she passing notes in class? But she keeps her face utterly neutral while she reads the text, though it takes her best skills at controlling her smile when she comes to the middle of the message.

Speaking of not being a diplomat. I guess she never learned that apologies aren't super-effective when you throw in an excuse. Well, maybe she'll learn. Or she really will become another Vargas-lite.

She types in: Thanks, Jeremi. That was weird, but the circumstances were tense, and stress can do strange things to people. Don't worry about it. There are only a few grudges I expend my energy on, and it takes more than a grabbed arm to make me cut off a friendship. -- NIA

With a smiling glance over to Collins, Nia sends the message off. Then she focuses on her original intent: sending St. Croix an invitation to meet up for a tour of the brig after her watch ends.

St. Croix responds, I'm willing to help, and available now, if you wish.

Chief Engineer Cheverez comes onto the Bridge and says to the Captain, "The Naradraen is in as good a shape as we can get her outside of an Aelyrr shipyard. They're ready to go when we are."

Singh replies, "Thank you, Mr. Cheverez. My thanks to you and your team; well done. I don't want to tax our furry friends - recommended speed?"

"I'd suggest we start at Warp 4, ma'am, and take it from there."

She nods. "Very well." To Vaudreuil and Onn she says, "Set a course for our rendezvous point with the Watney, Warp 4."

Vaudreuil brings up the coordinates on his board. "Course plotted and laid in, Captain."

Collins reads Onn's response and smiles with relief. She messages back I'm glad, Nia. How about a game of tennis after watch? I could teach you. Jeremi

Rangin sits quietly at the Science station wondering if he will get a chance to see Hayes notes on the Aelyrr, and think that at some stage he will need to get back to dealing with Dr Brold and the new sensor

Checking the Galley is easy enough for Ajay and it appears from the replicator logs and from chatting to the staff that Ens. Kylah had not been around. When it came to asking him what he is up to, they all just shrug and innocently turn a blind eye knowing full well what Ajay is doing, their only curious looks being around who it might be for.

It's not long before he is leaving again, by the back door with a plate of goodies on his way to Ens. Kylah's quarters. He drops a note back to Ens. Rangin, "On way now, consider favour now owing." before arriving at the door and ringing the chime for her quarters.

St. Croix's enthusiasm amuses Nia and she just types a quick note thanking the security officer and explaining that she's on watch now--and it won't hurt the Klingons to stew for another three hours. Then she attends to the job at hand, getting the Yorktown to where she needs going.

Once they're on virtual cruise control, Nia looks down at Collins's latest message. Tennis. Well, that should be fun, if Nia ever manages to hit the ball, but not terribly conducive to learning more about one another. She wonders if this is why Collins and Cooper make a good match. From what little she's heard, they're basically all about sports and sex. Jeremi might not have spent enough time talking to the guy to realize...

Ugh, other people's problems. Not gonna get involved unless she asks me. And she doesn't seem interested.

Nia sends a brief acceptance of the other woman's invitation, though adding that she knows how to play tennis--just ridiculously bad at it.

Then she is back staring at the viewscreen, paying attention to her usual tasks but in the back of her mind wondering about the inevitable meeting with Singh to discuss her AMR; wondering about the Klingons and what their real plan was; about the odds of the Aelyrr working together enough to join the Federation; and about her own relationship, if that's what it is. She's very much looking forward to talking to Booker.

Kylah's eyes pop open. She breathes, feeling as if she hasn't had enough air in ages, and wonders what startled her.

Once her eyes blink a few times, she's surprised to realize she is in her bed. When did she get here? She was just...

Her brows furrow. Where was she, just a moment ago? The turbolift? That seems right, she vaguely remembers riding it down from the Bridge.

But now she is under the covers in her room. Awake, despite her exhaustion. She must have made it here in a daze, but why could she not stay asleep?

Her mind is disoriented but not terribly so; her body, on the other hand... There seems to be a thousand-pound weight crushing her. Neither arms nor legs are mobile--they could be disconnected entirely from her body.

After several tries to move her hands, which rest atop the blanket, she finally sees, rather than feels, them clenching and unclenching, just as she has been ordering them to. And now a rush of tingling, burning sensations overtakes her arms, through her chest and torso, down her thighs to her feet. It is extremely uncomfortable--much like when a limb has fallen asleep. But she has never experienced this from her entire body. Thousands of ants are crawling over her.

She turns over with immense effort and tries to see what time it is, but a hail from her door alerts her. It sounds incredibly loud--but perhaps it is because the ship seems so very quiet.

Why is someone bothering me, she thinks in frustration. Do they not know I was ordered off the Bridge so I could sleep? Of course it could be Velir or... maybe something has happened to the boarding party?

"Who is it?" she says--or tries to. Her voice could be a rusty hinge. Kylah coughs and with as much strength as she possesses, pushes herself to a seated position and tries again. "Just a moment! Who is it?"

She cannot believe how her body is reacting to what little sleep she managed. Annoyed, Kylah grabs hold of the edge of her night table and pushes herself to her feet.

At least... that was her intention. Her heavy, numb, tingling legs have other ideas on the matter, and Kylah cannot take a step before her rubbery limbs give way. She reaches out to her night table but only manages to catch the handle to the top drawer, which slides out easily. Kylah cries out in surprise as she falls in a heap while the contents of the upended drawer--a few datapads, her jewelry box, music recordings, and various other ephemera--rain down atop her body and the floor in a loud clatter.

Her arms are still numb and awkward, and she cannot seem to use them to get up. Embarrassed at being seen in such an undignified position, but not having much choice, Kylah closes her eyes and calls as strongly as she can to open the door to her visitor: "Enter!"

The Yorktown turns in space and soon reaches Warp 4, the stars on the Bridge's main viewscreen seeming to part ahead and stream past. The Naradraen matches her course and speed, following five light-minutes aft and to starboard. The nebula, vast and glorious, begins falling behind. About ten minutes later, Singh signs a final report with her stylus, hands them back to an Engineering yeoman and says to Onn, "I'm going below. You have the conn, Lieutenant."

Hayes's Aelyrr data is probably unclassified, Rangin knows. He can access it through the Library Computer's recent-acquisitions Science database, if he wishes.

In Sickbay, Graham stirs in his sleep.

At the call from inside, Ajay smiles as it looks like he just woke up Ens. Kylah, she mush have been sleeping late, so this is probably as good a time as any to catch her unawares. With his best faux hotel voice, he calls out "It's room..." The rest of the words die on his lips as he hears her cry out along with the clatter of items from inside and the sound of someone hitting the floor in a heap.

"Mr. Kylah?" he calls out in concern over the noises. Pressing his ear to the door, Ajay calls out again quickly, any trace of the accent gone, while wondering if all that's happened is a small accident or if its something more serious. "Mr Kylah, are you alright?"

The hoarse call of "Enter" may allay his fears that he might need to call Security or Sickbay, but it does little to lessen the worry that something untoward has happened. He finds himself falling in as the doors opens and he takes a couple of steps forward to balance himself, while still keeping the salver he is carrying steady.

A quick scan of the room and his heart skips a beat for seeing Ens. Kylah, sitting in a pile of assorted bits and pieces. He's also glad her legs have also fallen together, because her very short nightshirt has ridden up probably further than she thinks and exposing way more of her than Ajay would expect, especially given the few blushing conversations they had had. Hastily placing the tray on the desk at the side, he rushes across to aid as he can while doing his best to look at her face and not the flimsy garment

"Mr Kylah, are you alright? Here let me help you back up." He bends down, taking care not to tread on any of the fallen items and reaches out ready to support or lift her up as she requests it.

After responding cheerily to Captain Singh's order, Nia stands up from the Helm and moves to the big chair. She's comfortable here--physically, it is a better chair than the rest of the crew's, but the comfort is primarily mental. The burden of command that she felt on the Tesla is, curiously, lessened on the Yorktown. Perhaps because there are so many able colleagues to back her up. Not that the entire crew is able--she's not that idealistic--but there are more than enough highly skilled officers to make up for the few idiots who seem to have coasted by on nepotism or who knows what.

"Mr. Rangin," Nia says, squinting slightly at the stars ahead of her as if that would help spotting the invisible. "I wasn't here when you first went on watch. I suppose the Captain asked you to use your deepest and most sensitive scanners to sweep the vicinity, right? If not, could you do so, please? I'm still antsy about the possibility of Klingons--or some other merc group--popping up and surprising us. Lt. Thalen, the same with those scanners Ensign Kylah set up the other day. If anyone's doing any chatting out in the ether, I'd like us to hear it as soon as possible.

"For that matter, Lt. Collins, be on even higher alert than usual. Someone decloaks in front of us, we won't have much time to prepare a torpedo."

Nia sends apologetic glances toward the three of them and smiles self-deprecatingly. "I know, I know, I'm sure the Captain's already ordered this, but I'm just dotting and crossing the proverbial I's and T's, as humans would say."

Rangin nods back to Lt Onn, "Yes ma'am." and turns to the sensor console. With the nebula a lot further away, the initial scanning protocols he set up for disturbances have lapsed and he begins the process of re-enabling them over again. While calibrating a slow sensor sweep in the direction of the known Klingon bases, he receives a message from Mr Johnson and he cringes inside slightly wondering exactly what kind of favour he is going to wind up owing. And then he worries even more if Kylah decides she didn't like the appreciation.

He shakes his head and turns back to the sensors, it's out of his hands now. All he can do is hope Mr Johnson's cooking is as superior as it was last time.

Collins turns towards Onn. "Want 'em armed, just in case?" she says with a smile.

Collins grin gets returned as Nia looks back at her. "Best not, if only because Captain Singh might think I have delusions of grandeur and a hair-trigger to boot." She raises an eyebrow. "But I wouldn't mind if you kept your fingers ready to arm them at a second's notice. Which you probably already do."

Kylah is surprised to hear Mr. Johnson's voice and her mind cannot help searching for a reason he might have stopped by. But relief is her first emotion as he immediately reaches to assist her.

"Thank you, I am all right..." She tries without much success to grab hold of his arms. Unable to even help herself that much, she continues in an embarrassed hurry. "I think my body has just given up, after not sleeping for so long. I am finding it difficult to feel anything, or move properly. And everything tingles. I know it is my fault for pushing myself, but I wanted to be useful..."

Her voice fades away when again she notices how quiet the ship is. She frowns and looks toward the door. "The red alert has stopped. What happened?" Kylah stares up at Mr. Johnson, which requires her to crane her neck. "Have the crew on the shuttle succeeded? Are the Klingons truly giving up so quickly?"

===

"Actually, ma'am, I think you've overslept." Ajay looks round for any sign of injuries but other than a minor scrape he can't see anything. "Here let me help you back on to the bed before anything. I'm guessing you slept awkward and you're probably going to get the biggest dose of Pins and Needles shortly."

He reaches out with one arm offering it so she can support herself, but she still looks as limp as a rag doll discarded to the floor. "If you're alright with it, ma'am, I can pick you up and put you back on the bed if it's easier."

Ajay has come to learn that placing hands on a senior officer was only really acceptable when they asked for it, although most of them certainly seemed to appreciate it.

"And I've got some breakfast with me, I think you could do with it."

===

Now Kylah is genuinely disoriented. Overslept? She only just left the Bridge... didn't she? Confused, she tries to turn to the clock on her night table, which requires her to hold on to Johnson's lean but strong body even more tightly with what little strength she has. But she must have knocked her clock to the floor as well. Fool. Since she must find out how long she has been asleep, she will just ask.

However, when Johnson says the word "breakfast," all other instincts cease. At once all Kylah can think about is food. She is intensely hungry; her stomach feels like a deflated balloon. "Yes, please, I am starving. I did not realize until just now. Can you help me...?"

Once he bends to swing her up, cradling her like a baby, Kylah notices that her legs are bare. And her bottom is... feeling far too much cool air against it for her liking. Indeed, the only thing that is not cool is the warmth of his hand, cupping her flesh--very briefly, not lingering thank goodness--while he adjusts her in his arms.

Immediately she gasps and stares down at her body--which only makes her gasp again. What--what am I-- Why am I in this?

The filmy peach lingerie material covering her might as well be transparent for all the good it is doing. The belt meant to keep it closed is loose, not that it matters much. She is, for all intents and purposes, as bare as she was with Velir last week.

With every ounce of strength, Kylah tries to turn herself around so her breasts and... everything.. are hidden against Johnson's body.

"Please put me down, please! I do not--I did not realize I was wearing this," she says, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

Her face is burning, angry both at herself and, illogically, at Johnson for having seen her. "I do not understand, this is a robe, it is not meant to be worn alone! I do not know what is wrong with me. I must have been half-asleep when I dressed..."

Her floppy arm tries to reach toward her blanket, so she can cover herself as soon as he sets her down. "Why are you here?" she moans. "I mean--I am grateful," she adds hurriedly, "but--what are you doing here?"

===

Staring fixedly ahead as he lifts her up and doing his best not to peek down as what he thought was a nightshirt begins to open. But as he lifts her up it seems to escape his attempts to smooth it out over her, and he winds up running his hands over areas that a few weeks ago she would have pulled--no, she did pull a knife, for even jesting over.

He can still feel her outline pressing through his own clothes and a general warmth from her body as he cradles her gently before placing Ens. Kylah on her bed.

While a tasty view of the Elasian in all her glory would certainly give him plenty of sweet dreams, he knows it would make him a disappointment in the eyes of so many ladies on board, not to mention T'Var.

It's obvious she's mortified by her current condition and Ajay reaches down without looking to snag the blanket and help her cover herself. Once she is under the covers, the blanket tucked up under both arms, he reaches behind and plumps the pillows to provide support before helping her lie back in relative comfort.

Perching a bit further down the bed to give her room, he looks back up at the blushing face. "Okay, brief update. Red Alert ended yesterday, I'm guessing you've slept for way longer than you thought. Breakfast is courtesy of a friend."

While that news is sinking in, he fetches the tray and opens it in front of her showing the hot chocolate and warm pastries for her to nibble on. "Here. Get stuck in, ma'am."

===

At first Kylah sends him a wary glance for those last words--they seem like one of his innuendos--but the rest catches her attention like a slap. "Yesterday? Do you mean I have been sleeping for a whole day?"





to be continued - Kylah by choie at long last, yay! and Ajay by CIAS

Is Mr. Johnson joking? Kylah cannot tell. She is too ashamed to stare at him, and his emotions seem unusually impenetrable. It must be like my limbs, even my senses are numb.

"Is everyone all right? The situation is resolved?" When he confirms this with a nod, she sighs and looks down. "That is good to know. But a day, wasted in bed... I must have missed two watches. I cannot believe I was so irresponsible, or no one called me. I should really report, it is terribly unprofessional..."

Her concern for her duty fades when the scent of the hot chocolate and pastries reaches her. She bites her lip and rubs a hand over her right arm, slapping and massaging it to get some of the blood flowing again. Finally she tears off a piece of one of the pastries and bites into it. Her eyes close and she lets out an unconscious, contented mmm at its delicate, feather-light dough covered in some sort of sticky sugar confection.

She opens her eyes and smiles briefly, still flushing and unable to look at him. "Thank you very much," she says in a prim voice, as if she has not given Johnson what amounts to a completely uncovered view--and a hands-on experience--of her naked body. "This is all most delectable."

After taking another bite and chewing, Kylah meets his gaze at last. "Why are you so kind to me?"

===

Ajay breathes a small sigh of relief as Ens. Kylah finally starts eating, but has to bite his tongue at her first comment. Delectable, yeah she probably is, but this time it had been something left untasted. As for her comment on being kind, Ajay can't help but feel his face redden slightly, it isn't something he's used to being called.

"Um, kind? You'd fallen in a heap on the floor, what am I supposed to do, call Security? I don't think you'd 'ave wanted that." And as the grin slowly returns, "Scouts honour, no peeking either."

He sits back on the end of the bed and looks across at Ens. Kylah as her usually nimble fingers move stiffly when trying to get at the food in front of her. "Okay, in short, the situation with the Klingons and Aelyrr has been resolved and the Codex retrieved."

He halts on mentioning that Ens. Graham is currently in Sickbay; she can find out later. "Breakfast comes courtesy of Ens. Rangin, repaying the meal you sent him. Looks like it was good timing as well that he did."

Ajay's gaze wanders around the room, if only to give Ens. Kylah a little space to eat, and then sees all the little items on the floor. He bends down to start picking them up and stop them being trodden on.

"My suggestion ma'am, eat that, take a long shower and report to Lt. Thalen when you feel ready." Would you like your back scrubbed? echoes the thought through his mind as he kneels down so Kylah cannot see his face. Down, boy, comes a twin echo through his head sounding suspiciously like Nia and T'Var.

===

Relief washes over Kylah when she hears that the crisis has passed, and apparently everything seems to have gone smoothly. Her lips part with a slight inhale when Mr. Johnson adds that Velir sent the meal.

"That was thoughtful of Mr. Rangin," she says softly, trying to use her still-fumbling hands to grip the mug of chocolate. She also does not dare make more of Velir's act than it might mean. Instead she focuses on Mr. Johnson. "But you were the one to go to the trouble. I do not think these are replicated pastries. And in my experience not all men to come across someone in my situation would have just... helped me."

She finishes these last words quietly, as her lips touch the mug, so he might not have heard them. Which is just as well.

===

"Don't worry about Mr Rangin, he owes me a favour just like most do and no, those are not replicated pastries. Wouldn't dream of offering anyone something substandard." Ajay holds back on commenting about the other men she seems to have encountered. It may also account for part of her general demeanor.

===

Kylah finds Mr. Johnson's pride of work charming, and she smiles again while she wipes her fingers on one of the napkins he provided. Her hands seem a bit more flexible, and beneath the covers she continues stretching her feet and calves despite the uncomfortable burning and tingling.

Watching him act like a servant even further by picking up after her clumsiness, Kylah is about to tell him not to bother when she spies something she does not recognize in his hand.

"Is that an envelope?" She tilts her head in curiosity. "One so rarely sees paper anymore. Is it yours?"

===

Ajay holds the rectangular envelope up with a twirl of his fingers, "This? No, all these things on the floor are yours, aren't they? Here you go ma'am." He passes the envelope across to her and continues picking things up off the floor.

===

Kylah takes the envelope and sure enough, there is her name on it. Handwritten, as well, although she does not recognize the style. Not surprising; who writes manually these days? It is so rare that there is something extraordinarily personal and even intimate about taking the time to write a note.

It must be from Velir, Kylah thinks in pleasure, glancing over to Mr. Johnson and suspecting he is playing innocent as to the origin of the note. Just the sort of thing he would do for his own amusement. Very well, she will not spoil the impression that he has fooled her.

She tucks the envelope under her napkin, waiting to read it in private. While Mr. Johnson quickly finishes tidying up, Kylah asks him for another favor before he leaves--to pass her the communicator on her night stand. She must have many messages on it, probably from an annoyed (or, she admits as more likely, concerned) Lt. Thalen.

"Thank you," she says when he hands her the device, and she clasps its cool metal between her hands as she looks warmly at him. "For everything. Again. I am forever needing you to rescue me. I hope I can help you, sometime."

===

"Not a problem ma'am," Ajay comments as he packs up the tray, avoiding the napkin under which she slipped the envelope. "Just try not to make a habit of it."

He stands up with the tray and looks down at Ens. Kylah, who is now looking a lot better on the bed, and he begins to wonder just what he missed seeing under that blanket. "Of course, if you wanted to repay...nah, I'm a bit big to pick up...even wearing just a towel." He winks at her, that all-knowing grin across his face.

===

Kylah's face burns at the memory. To think, she made all that fuss over his wearing a towel in his own quarters. And now she has all but lain naked in front of the man. The incident on her first day as a Yorktown officer seems impossibly distant.

"If you needed me to," she says with a quiet, somber tone, "I would do whatever I could. I am not strong, but... I do hope to repay you properly.

===

Ajay nods, noticing the stark sincerity in her words and her wide but still tired-looking eyes. "Understood, ma'am," he says with more seriousness than he usually allows himself.

He heads for the door and then stops just in advance of it and looks back over one shoulder. "Word is you did good, ma'am."

She corrects him: "Kylah. Please."

With another nod, he remains in the open door. "All right, then. Just try to learn to relax a little. Take care of yourself--Kylah."

Ajay exits out of the door to take the plates back to the Galley and then get ready for the rest of the day.

===

The door closes Kylah in, alone again. And more than alone; there is that quietness, a stillness, that she does not understand. It presses down on her ears. Something is missing. Is it the ship's engines? Are they flying at sub-warp levels, perhaps?

Shaking her head, Kylah opens her communicator, knowing that work should come before the pleasure of reading the note. But... the communicator's small screen is blank. There is no light behind the keys, no small flashing icon to indicate there is a message. She turns it over quickly to make sure the device is ON, but yes, it is.

"What could have... When did I have this last?" She closes her eyes and thinks back. Something about the turbolift. Yes, there had been a message from Velir. Something nice, too, since she remembers it pleasing her. But she can remember absolutely nothing past that.

Well, she will have to go to Engineering, or whoever might be able to help her with fixing the thing. Kylah has never known one to lose power like this. How odd.

She shakes her head and sets the device aside, now allowing herself the treat of the note. Her fingers are still clumsy but she manages to open the envelope.

There is only a single word there. No signature. And it seems that whoever wrote it did not even like what she or he had written.

Kylah runs her fingers over the word, as if some tactile connection will help her understand. But there is nothing. Just as the sounds that she usually associates with the Yorktown are muted and eerily still, the note might as well be blank for all the meaning Kylah can make of it.

Frowning, she decides to put the thoughts aside and do her best to become presentable. It takes some stumbles and a lot of leaning against various pieces of furniture, but at long last Kylah manages to get herself into the bathroom to clean herself.

When she is through, she dries her hair, dresses, and takes both the nonworking communicator and the strange little note. She can certainly get answers about the former, and the latter will probably turn out to be meaningless.

In the turbolift, propping herself up against the wall, she looks down at the note again. But no matter how many times she reads it, all it says is:

ELASIAN

Kylah by choie and Ajay by CIAS

Rangin sees nothing nearby on sensors other than the Aelyrr starship, and the nebula, now steadily dropping further behind. There are nine star systems in the sector, none of which has been explored by Starfleet, as well as two orphan stars and a supernova remnant. It is otherwise a relatively empty area of space.

Collins confirms that phasers, photon torpedoes and deflector shields are all offline but nominal. They could of course quickly be made ready for use if needed.

Thalen reports to Onn, "Just routine subspace message traffic, ma'am. Nothing identifiably Klingon nearby, either military, civilian or mercenary. We did just get responses to some queries Ens. Kylah had made yesterday, though."

Ens. Horst Leventhal arrives to take over the Helm.

A Science yeoman is right behind him, with a datapad for Onn's review bearing a report on laboratory supply requisitions, and a stylus.

Nia nods at Leventhal, then thanks Collins, Rangin and Thalen for the updates. To the latter, she adds, "Ooh, that's good news, let's hear what those responses have to say. Assuming they're not classified or anything."

She turns to the yeoman and smiles apologetically. "Thanks--I'm sorry, I don't know your name. Need me to sign off on this?" Her eyes scan the datapad.

Then a thought occurs to her and, even while she reads, she continues the earlier thread of conversation with her friend the Communications chief. "Actually, Lt. Thalen, your internal clock needs rewinding, if you don't mind my saying so. According to what I remember of the ensign's seemingly endless reports, she picked up the Naradraen signal almost exactly forty-eight hours ago. Hard to believe, isn't it?"

When Kylah makes her still-unsteady way to the Communications Center, she uses her right hand to lean on the wall so she may keep her balance. The feeling in her feet seems to have improved, but her knees are wobbly--particularly the one she twisted back on OC3.

Curiously, the closer she gets to her department, the more she has the rather eerie feeling that no one will be there. If any colleague is present, she will be genuinely shocked.

Since she cannot use her own communicator, she must borrow one--or use one of the terminals--to contact Thalen. She must apologize for her having missed an entire day's work.

Thalen says, "Hmm. Perhaps the outgoing timecode was mistaken. But no, they're not classified." He reviews the messages. "In any event, the Caitian Cultural Heritage Center and the... University of Merrien, on Cait, acknowledge similarities between an ancient Caitian dialect and what we now know to be the modern Aelyrr language. A Prof. Mrenn of the University says that there are several legends of an offshoot race of larger felinoids who left Cait long ago to settle another star system. That might have been the Aelyrr."

The Science rating smiles back at Onn. "Yeoman Catherine Peters, ma'am. And yes, please have a look and approve it, if you will."

Kylah finds Lt. JG Ade Soerjosoemarno alone in the Communications Center. The stocky, older Indonesian man looks up at her from his console and frowns. "Mr. Kylah! Are you all right? You look... unwell, if you don't mind my saying. Please, sit down."

"Good to meet you, Yeoman Peters," Nia says, and examines the lab requisition. Assuming there's nothing unusual about it, she'll give the 'okay' and sign off as requested.

Then she turns back to Thalen. "Now that's interesting. I think the original theory was that the migration might've gone the other way--from this other planet to Cait. Apparently not. I wonder how the Caitians will feel about having a renewed relationship with these Aelyrr. Or vice-versa, for that matter. Since they don't seem to share a religion, I'd be curious to learn how all that 'four-hundred' and so on stuff evolved." She mulls this over further. "Hopefully Mr. Hayes had a chance to discuss the whole Cait/Aylerr connection with the Naradraen folks."

Nia looks back at the stars on her viewscreen for a little while. "While we're traveling, I'd be really interested in how each of you would've answered Captain Singh's question. How would each of you deal with the Klingons in the Brig, diplomatically speaking? Vaudreuil, Thalen, Collins, Rangin, Bucci, everyone?"

Kylah lifts a hand, which takes more effort than it probably should. "Oh, no, sir, it is better that I stand, I think. I am all right, it is just that I spent far too much time lying down asleep. I seem to be paying a penalty for it."

She leans against his desk for some support, but does not want to cause more trouble or draw more focus to herself. Just once she wants to fit in, to be unobtrusive. "I am sorry to have fallen behind in my duties, Lieutenant. I will report in to Lt. Thalen now and will take on anything that needs doing."

Heading to her usual terminal, she remains standing, with a little help from the countertop, and logs in. She should probably go through any unread messages, but she is anxious to speak with her superior officer as soon as possible, and so she starts to compose a new message.

LT. THALEN - I am greatly sorry to have caused an inconvenience by missing my watch. Please forgive my having slept for so long, no doubt requiring someone else to take my place. I will make up the missed time whenever possible. Currently, I am at my station in the Communications center and am ready to work, pending your instructions.

About to sign off, she looks down and remembers that unfortunately she needs another favor. She sighs and continues:

I am afraid my communicator is in need of repair. I do not know what happened, as I know it worked yesterday when I left the Bridge. It appears to be something electrical rather than a system issue--the device will not even turn on. As a result I will need to go down to Engineering to see if the communicator can be fixed. While it is being repaired--if that is possible--may I have your permission to request a temporary replacement?

She gnaws at her lower lip, embarrassed, when she remembers his generosity about her zither, and adds: I seem to be asking you for many replacements for items I have broken. I am very sorry, sir. -- ENS. KYLAH

After sending the message, she opens her inbox to see what, if anything, she has missed.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," Collins says with a bit of a laugh, recalling her encounter with Fastolfe last mission. "Diplomacy is not my strong suit. I would have to be the 'bad cop' in any interrogation." She thinks for a moment. "Playing the first batch against the second batch seems like the best route. Group one will be angry that they were left to die, once we tell them about their shuttle, and group two will be angry group one is still alive. And both groups will be pissed off that they failed."

Graham blinks rapidly, his eyes taking a few moments to come into focus. He glances left to right and sees...Nia's flower.

He's baffled: What's it doing in my quarters rather than hers?

Images and recent memories start to coalesce in the fog he feels in his head. Away mission. Klingons. Firefight...

Something's happened to Nia...

Alarmed he starts to push himself up and out of bed...and gets about one millimeter off the mattress before he drops back down, overwhelmed by a flash of pain and a wave of something almost worse than pain, the feeling that lingers after your body has suffered a trauma almost enough to overwhelm it and shut it down, a trauma it was still trying to work its way back from...

Exactly what it feels like after being shot, he thinks. You know that feels because...you just got shot--again.

Graham realizes he's not in his quarters, he's in a recovery room in Sickbay.

And something didn't happen to Nia. Something happened to him.

My leg, he remembers. Still there, as far as I can tell, he thinks. Although he wonders: they have prosthetics now that can fool anyone but the recipient. Maybe they can fool the recipient too...

He swallows. That hurt. Why the hell should my throat hurt after I got blasted in the leg?

He forces himself to focus. "Hello--" his voice is hoarse. How the hell long have I been out?

He clears it and realizes a call button for the nurse on duty would be more effective... He finds it and presses it, resisting the urge to press it multiple times. He's anxious to know (in this order) if the whole team (present company excepted) has returned safely and then the extent of his injuries and his prognosis.

The lab requisition appears routine. Onn signs off on it, and Peters departs.

Vaudreuil says, "We should offer the Klingons to the Aelyrr. They're the ones who've been most hurt by the mercenaries, after all, and the Klingons haven't violated Federation law, as far as we know." Bucci and Delaney agree.

Thalen shakes his head. "From what we know of the Aelyrr, that might be a death sentence for all of them, and they might not all be equally to blame."

Leventhal says, "I have no opinion as to their eventual destination, ma'am, but agree with Mr. Collins as to further interrogating them."

Kylah soon has a response: You've been through a lot and clearly you needed the rest. Hope you feel better now. No apology necessary; we muddled through without you. Go ahead and get a new communicator from Ship's Stores while yours is being repaired. THALEN.

Opening the comm records, she sees the Caitian Cultural Heritage Center's and University of Merrien's responses to her queries about the Aelyrr.

Dr. Villa comes into the recovery room, the duty nurse close behind her. The CMO smiles at Graham. "There he is! How do you feel?"

Graham returns Villa's smile with something between one of his own and a grimace.

"Uh, well, shitty--but more importantly not dead, something which I presume I have you and your team to thank for...is everyone else from the mission OK? And...uh...well, how OK or not am I?"

Listening to the others' ideas, Nia nods thoughtfully. She's a little surprised that a doctor would be willing to turn prisoners over to be executed--even Klingons. But who knows, maybe Bucci's had a bad experience with Klingons in the past.

With a nod to Collins and Leventhal, she replies, "Oh, interrogating them seems to be job #1 for Cmdr. Vargas, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's worked hard to foment mistrust between the two sides." That's what he does best. Nia almost smiles but manages to avoid betraying her feelings. "Still, we all know Klingons are stubborn--types. I'm hoping having Mr. St. Croix talk to them in their own language will somehow smooth the path."

She turns to the Science console. "And what do you think, Ensign Rangin? What fate would you bestow upon the brigands in the Brig?"

Kylah flushes slightly when she reads Thalen's message. His response that they 'muddled through' without her seems pointed; maybe he thinks she has an exalted view of her importance in the department? She did not mean to give that impression.

After typing a short "thank you" message back, Kylah takes in the information about the Caitians and the apparent link to the Aelyrr, gratified to have the connection between the two verified--or as good as--at last. Pleased, she swivels toward the exit and gives a little start to see Soerjosoemarno again. Somehow she forgot he was here. Or more accurately, she assumed he left. Why did I think that?

She shakes her head, feeling out of sorts, but ignores the strangeness and carries on. "Pardon me, sir," she says. "Can you tell me where the Ship's Stores is, please? I need to replace my communicator, and Lt. Thalen I may go there for one, but I do not recall where it is."

"Everyone else is fine," Dr. Villa says. "As you will be, too, soon. You're going to need some rest and physical therapy, but I'm confident you'll make a full recovery. Your mission was a success - the Codex was recovered, the Klingons were captured, and we're now heading for a rendezvous with another Starfleet vessel. The Aelyrr are tagging along."

Soerjosoemarno says, "Why don't you sit down, Ensign? I'll have someone bring you a new communicator, or tell you what, I'll go get it for you. I feel like I need to stretch my legs anyway. You can hold the fort here."

"Thank you, sir," Kylah says slowly. Although she very much wants to walk around herself, she does not want to refuse Soerjosoemarno's offer--he seems so determined. Besides, 'holding down the fort,' as he calls it, is the least she can do after missing a watch. "If you do not mind going to pick up a replacement, that would be kind of you."

She holds on to the broken communicator for now, since she wants a chance to discuss what could be wrong with it. Returning to her terminal, she leans against the chair and, after a moment of thought, types out a quick message.

VELIR -- I hope you are well. Thank you so much for thinking to send me breakfast. It was delicious; Mr. Johnson is truly a marvelous cook.

I am embarrassed to admit I do not recall if I responded to your note to me yesterday. In fact, I do not exactly remember the message itself, except that it was thoughtful and I was pleased to receive it. Unfortunately my communicator seems to have burnt out roughly the same time I did. Do you know what might cause a communicator to die like that?

She finishes the message with the hope that they might talk sometime soon, and thanks him again for the breakfast. Then she remembers the envelope tucked in her duty belt.

I nearly forgot to ask: Did you give Mr. Johnson a note for me? It was unsigned and I do not recognize your handwriting. If so... I fear my mind is still fuzzy from sleep, because I do not understand it. Can you tell me what it means? You are likely laughing at me for being so thickheaded... -- KYLAH

Sending the message, Kylah rubs her hands over her arms, which are still tingling and a little numb, as well as chilly. Should she go to Sickbay with her complaints? This does not seem normal. Perhaps her circulation problems are due to dehydration--after all, she did not drink for 24 hours at least.

She shrugs and, with arms still crossed over her chest, takes a slow walk around the room, checking on various terminals to see what work is being conducted and to note the results of any scans.

Graham inhales and exhales a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks in the process. "That's good news, doctor--sir." He glances at the flower. "Do you know when I might be able to get up and around? I'd like to give someone a visit, if I could, uh, without crawling in a perhaps undignified way through the ship's corridors..."

Rangin is listening in on the question from Lt Onn and the answers from the rest of the crew, but is almost hoping he doesn't have to answer. A choice sadly removed when Lt Onn asks once again for his opinion.

"Ma'am, I believe the correct protocol would be to see what Starfleet Rules and Regs say about this situation as I would be very surprised if it had not happened before." Keeping calm and relaxed, he turns round to look at Lt Onn sat almost expectantly in the Captain's chair.

"However, ma'am. Mercenaries are mercenaries and by all accounts interrogation has not gone..." He leaves the sentence hanging letting everyone else fill in their own ending. "...and certain Coridan practices would suggest that a small gratuity would be a better motivator of their intentions in being friendly towards us. After all, there are three other Klingon bases in the area around the Aelyrr."

Rangin looks round the rest of the Bridge, letting his face go slightly abashed that he would say such a thing. "That doesn't mean it's the right thing to do though, ma'am," before turning back to the console.

Soerjosoemarno smiles and leaves. As far as Kylah can see, there has been only routine communications traffic received or monitored by the Yorktown since she last checked.

Dr. Villa says, "I don't want you on your feet just yet, Ensign. You can use the Library Computer terminal here," she pulls it closer to his bed, "for any comm access you need, or we'll get you a communicator, if you like. You're welcome to receive visitors, of course."

On the Bridge, Delaney asks Rangin, "Are you suggesting we bribe one of the Klingons? Or more than one?"

Nia was about to respond to Rangin's "let's do whatever Starfleet regs require" holier-than-thou canard, but the rest of his response turned out to be as far from 'holier-than-thou' as you can get, short of bloodshed. Her lip curls into a one-sided smile as she gives the science officer a new appraisal. Not what he appears to be. And also kind of cute, especially when he looks all embarrassed like this. Why haven't I noticed that before? I guess I've been seeing him through Booker's eyes--

The thought of Booker makes her blink and look away. They have no commitment to one another, but she sure as hell shouldn't be eyeing another man when Booker's lying unconscious in Sickbay because of her. Especially not Rangin, of all people. Get your frickin' priorities straight.

Then Delaney chimes in with his own saint impression, and Nia lifts a hand to ward off any internecine verbal battles. "Hold on, I don't think Mr. Rangin's suggesting anything. He's offering options, just as I asked. The fact that he's giving one that no one's come up with before is a good thing. The more possibilities the better." Nia shrugs with her left shoulder. "Not that I have any sway in this. I just thought we could brainstorm to pass the time and, maybe, get something to present to the Captain and First Officer. They're the ones who'll be doing all the decision-making."

She looks back at Rangin. "I am curious, though. What sort of arrangement do you mean? Would it work like a deal--sort of like Collins and I suggested, offering immunity to one set of the Klingons as long as they rat out the others? Except in your proposal, instead of immunity we'd offer credits?"

"I never said immunity," Collins corrects, gently, "but maybe a lesser punishment. Like the ones who talk get to go home to Qo'noS and deal with the consequences there, while the others face Aelyrrian justice."

Graham considers protesting--or sneaking out after the doctor leaves--but has to concede that in point of fact the doctor may be right, and he simply won't be able to pull off any real movement on his feet quite yet.

He thanks Villa and (assuming he's not being rude to the medical staff by doing so) he uses the terminal to tap out a message to Nia. He intentionally sends it directly as a recorded message, bypassing a "ring" as it were.

Nia--Thanks for the flower. But the doc won't let me get up yet, so you might want to come check it has enough water sooner rather than later. Book--he instinctively starts to type the final "er" but then deletes them before he hits "send."

Without losing her smile, Nia nods patiently at Collins's remark. "Yes, Mr. Collins, so noted. Immunity, leniency, it's the same general principle." She continues to look at Rangin with expectant interest.

She feels a little vibration on her hip. New message. It can't be from Collins this time. Maybe A.J.? Not an emergency or it wouldn't just be a notification. Out of habit she pulls the communicator out and gives a glance at the sender.

She can't help it: she gasps, a smile of disbelief and widened eyes revealing her pleasure at seeing Booker's name on the tiny screen. He's awake. He's awake.

Unconsciously she stands up, urged by the powerful instinct to rush over to Sickbay to see him. Then she catches herself--she's on watch, she can't just delegate and disappear when Singh herself has ordered her into the big chair. And so Nia changes her action from her intended path toward the stairs to a casual tour around the Bridge, as if pacing. She holds the communicator in her right hand, not reading the message, not needing to. He's awake.

"Um... yes, so... I have to assume our chief of security has used just about every ploy in the Starfleet regulations booker. Book." Nia feels her face turn slightly warm and she turns toward the viewscreen. "So--so maybe something unorthodox might be a useful ploy. Tell us more, Mr. Rangin." And she'll do her best to listen and force herself not to read the first communication from Booker since that horrible scene on the shuttle nearly 24 hours ago.

Rangin freezes as he can feel the rest of the Bridge all looking in his general direction, but knowing he will have to turn to face them all. The one thing he was trying to do was be an honest and respected Federation officer, far from the corruption that his home planet was known for. The last thing he wants is this crew to consider him as the typical Coridanite and quite accepting of the types of schemes they are known for. But, he has no option and so turns back round to face the enquiring.

"Mr Delaney, a bribe would infer that they are beings in a position of authority who would, for a fee, allow certain less than moral actions to occur. I would not say those Klingons in the brig would fall into that category." He focuses on Lt Onn, who is now prowling around like some kind of monitor lizard, eyes and teeth beginning to sparkle in his direction and Rangin's general instinct about dangerous animals begins to come to the fore.

"Ma'am. I was merely commenting that the Aelyrr said the Klingon groups had been paid in the past for certain services and it is possible that the attack on the Naradraen was also paid for. Either that, or the Codex was to be used as a bargaining piece to give which ever group they belong to a sense of security. In short ma'am, an alternative would be to make them a commercial offer for their services and see which group would be interested."

"I could see that," says Leventhal, nodding thoughtfully, "although I doubt the Captain would go for it. Spending official funds on Klingon mercenaries, even to good ends, would be hard to justify to Starfleet Command."

Dr. Villa and the duty nurse leave Graham's room. A few minutes later, Cmdr. Vargas enters. "There he is!" he says, a bit more jovial than Graham has ever seen him. He comes over and stands by Graham's bedside. "They told me you'd woken up. How are you feeling? May we get you anything?"

Graham's so taken aback by Vargas' ebullient--at least for him--mood that he momentarily forgets his own discomfort.

"Ah, nothing more than the reflexes I had twenty years back," Graham replies, shaking his head slightly. "It's going to be tough to live down letting that Klingon get his shot off, sir."

Even through the glow of her elation, Nia can tell Rangin's not comfortable, for some reason she can't fathom. His suggestion could probably fly--if the ship and crew were anything but Starfleet's own.

"I see what you mean. But Lt.--" Crap. Nice going. "Ensign Delaney is right in thinking that the powers that be wouldn't wear a scheme like that. That said, it's an interesting idea, and if we have a full debriefing or some other strategy meeting related to this, I'll throw out a feeler and see what happens."

She really wishes the watch would speed along. Yes, she has to meet St. Croix, but she can put that off until she's had a chance to see Booker.

Distracted, she continues to walk around the Bridge, ending up near Collins. "We'd better keep a close eye on them. Klingons are supposed to off themselves when they're captured, aren't they? Security had better be on its toes so that doesn't happen. We don't want a repeat of the incident from six weeks or so ago." Nia grimaces at the thought, glad she wasn't involved. "Speaking of that, Lt. Collins... not to be morbid, but do you know if the investigation ever found the reason or explanation how he was left alone to commit suicide?"

"Really?" Collins says to the comment about Klingon seppuku, "I always thought that was more of a Romulan thing. But yeah, we'll put them on suicide watch." She types herself a reminder before answering Onn's other question. She turns to face Onn, feeling a little defensive. "Not as of yet. But that investigation isn't closed."

Vargas says, "You aren't the first and won't be the last, Ensign, to have that happen to you. I hear you did well, and you got back the Codex, and that's what counts."

The Captain soon returns to the Bridge. She says, "Thank you, Mr. Onn. I relieve you. Go ahead to the Brig now, unless you have something keeping you here."