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

"You handled yourself in the best possible way under the circumstances," T'Var assures Kylah. "You should try and rest now. If you need a stronger sedative, I will administer one."

Rangin couldn't care less about other Elasian zither music. It is the player that is important on this occasion, as he muses about the broken muse in Sickbay.

His concentration breaks once again as a call, more an order, from Lt. Collins to meet with the detective in charge comes through before the call cuts off abruptly.

Wondering when he might be able to get back to work unfettered by the events but it seems it will not be for a while. Rangin rises from the chair, shutting down the simulation, and heads for the conference room to see what they want. No doubt to ask what he knew leaving Rangin to wonder just what he should answer.

Graham nods appreciatively at T'Var's comment--and almost asks for a sedative himself.

"Well I can tell you the assh- The guy I ran down put up a hell of a fight."

He shakes his head, about to try to lighten the mood with a joke and then realizes how earnestly she's seeking confirmation.

"Uh, seriously, I think you've said plenty to nail...I mean, positively ID one of the guys we picked up earlier."

He rubs his chin. "That's what matters. Lunnd knows his business...if he can convince this one guy he's going to take the fall on a serious charge all by himself, he'll turn on his buddies for a lighter sentence. They almost always do."

He thinks for a moment: as far as he can tell Kylah may have omitted some details, but she didn't lie about material events, which is what matters...

"You stuck to the...facts that, ah that...really mattered. Keep doing that and you'll be fine. Really."

Rangin meets Collins and Det. Lunnd in Conference Room 5. It is a standard shipboard conference room but for the two large replica paintings on display, both, Rangin presumes, from the American Revolutionary War battle from which the ship takes its name.

Lunnd greets the Coridanite xenobiologist and asks him to sit down. He puts a small datapad on the table and says, ""Ens. Rangin, as you know, I'm investigating the attack on Ens. Kylah and the theft of her property. I understand you were with her at the beginning of her shore leave. This will be your official police statement, and everything you say is being recorded. Anything you remember about what happened, anything at all, might turn out to be useful. If there's something you later remember after our talk here today, please let me know as soon as possible. What matters is that you're completely honest and forthright. All right? Now, please tell me what happened from the time you first went down to the surface."

The paintings:

"Storming A Redoubt," from the Virginia State Capitol: http://www.virginiamemory.com/docs/0...-a-Redoubt.jpg
"Siège de Yorktown," from the Palace of Versailles: http://img0.worldhistoryproject.org/...ree_column.jpg

"Thank you very much, Dr. T'Var," Kylah says when the doctor kindly reassures her. "You have been patient and I have felt your presence every time I woke up. It means a great deal to me." She considers the sedative but decides against it, for now. As long as the detective is still on board, Kylah is afraid of anything that might loosen her tongue accidentally. As it is, she has a nagging feeling that she might have said too much.

While Graham speaks, Kylah mulls his words over and feels a little relief. Then she pulls herself up slightly, peering at his face and upper body--all she can see from this angle.

"You say--you captured one of them? And he fought you? Are you all right? He did not hurt you, did he? Or anyone from the crew?" Kylah looks at Graham's eyes but can only imagine the void of the black masks. A haunting vision of those raised clubs makes her wince and shake her head. Guilt fills her stomach and throat with bile, which she swallows back. "I am sorry to have put any of the crew at risk, Mr. Graham. Please tell me if anyone was harmed?"

Graham can't help but smile.

After all he invective Rangin hurled at Kylah earlier--"she's broken" and so on--after all she's been through and all she's worried about (whether of her own making or not, it doesn't matter), she pivots on a dime as the old saying goes as soon as there's any hint someone else may have been hurt on her account.

Graham crouches down so they are on a more level plane. He clasps his hands together for a moment, and then--given how upset she's been--just puts them on the edge of the bed rather than trying to touch her shoulder or anything like that.

"It's fine. Everybody's fine." He looks down for a moment and then back up. "I was just doing my job--we all were. Nobody put anybody at risk except these...thugs...who are hopefully going to be put away for a good long time."

He stands to leave, then adds, softly. "There's a big difference between people who make mistakes, and people who hurt other people, on purpose." Like this Lez asshole. Or Rangin.

He glances briefly toward T'Var, then back to Kylah. He holds her gaze for a moment. "Whatever...mistakes you fear you've made, I hope you're clear about that distinction. I am." he concludes with gentle emphasis.

Kylah takes in his meaning, and she blinks while thinking of Graham and what little she knows of him--his own guilt, which she has felt so strongly in the past. "Are you clear about that distinction?" she asks gently yet somewhat pointedly. "I hope that is truly the case."

After a moment of watching him, she adds: "And Mr. Graham,.. regarding all this, what you have done, and said, and not said...I am grateful. I do not want anyone put at risk. Regardless of what you know about my experiences on the planet, if--if there is some potential for--negative consequences to you..." Such as anything Vargas or the Captain asks you, she thinks, wishing she could mention this explicitly. "You are under no obligation. I would not forgive myself if something happened because you... to put it in your vernacular... took phaser fire for me."

She looks down for a moment, then finishes with an intense stare upwards at him. "What happens to you matters. To me and, I am sure, others."

Nia barely has time to acknowledge Collins's hail when the junior officer says her piece and abruptly cuts the communication. Staring down at the arm of her chair in disbelief, Nia tries to process what she was just told. Rangin? The detective wants to meet with... Rangin? She supposes it makes sense, he was--if the reports are accurate--with Kylah down on the planet, briefly. But all this seems extraordinary for what Nia thought was a relatively straightforward theft and assault. How far back in time do they need to go? Even in a relatively peaceful city, there must be a half-dozen attacks on vulnerable young men and women every day. Especially those who inadvertently put targets on their backs by throwing money around due to being wealthy and foolish? Or just naive, she amends, thinking again of Kylah's youth with a pang.

After informing Three Crows, Vargas and Singh of the latest details, Nia gets in touch with Rangin. "Lt. Onn to Ensign Rangin. I know you're about to be interviewed by this Detective Lunnd, so I'm sorry to interrupt. But I just wanted to make sure that he and Lt. Collins haven't accidentally forgotten to remind you that you're entitled to have someone with you. I reminded Ensign Kylah of this too, so I'm not singling you out. Personally, I just get a bit... leery... when detectives and Security folks start crowding around me, and I thought you might feel the same. So don't feel obligated to say anything without some advocate nearby."

While she speaks, she glances at her chronometer. She wonders how long this investigation has taken--and how much longer she has until she will be relieved. Her watch seems to have lasted longer than usual. Perhaps the stress of waiting for news has made it feel endless. And her curiosity about why Rangin is involved is now nagging at her even more.

Well. Collins is apparently too busy to entertain questions from a senior officer. Perhaps someone else can explain exactly why this mugging investigation is now spreading through the ship like the beginnings of an insidious infection.

Assuming her conversation is through, she flips her communications switch, which is now getting to be habit at this point.

"Lt. Onn to Ensign Graham," she says, friendly but businesslike. "When you're available, can you see me on the Bridge?" Or, if her watch is over/almost over, she'll ask Graham to meet her outside the infirmary when she's free.

Graham listens silently as Kylah poses some questions to him--for which he does not have easy answers.

How much would it matter to Lizzy, he wonders. Not because it would matter to her because she's a good person. But because I've been a good...or at least any sort of..a father?

Graham smiles a little. "Duly noted. I'll 'watch my ass,' to put it in my vernacular...if you promise to rest," he adds with sincere affection.

His communicator chimes and he excuses himself. "Well, duty calls--I don't think phaser fire is a risk at the moment."

Graham isn't sure what Onn wants to talk about, but by god he's going to give her that snow globe...he asks if there's somewhere they can meet in 15 (giving him time to change out his uniform stained with his and Lez' sweat, and to grab the gift from his quarters).

Doing her best to smile in return, though it is weak, Kylah nods at Graham and settles back on the pillow. And tries to imagine what Lunnd is saying to Collins.

Nia nods, although of course Graham can't see her. "Sure. My watch is over in a matter of minutes--just waiting to be relieved. Can I meet you..." She hesitates. She's had the urge to pay a visit to the focus of this afternoon's excitement since the young woman was successfully retrieved, and now might be a good chance to do so. "Near the infirmary? We can talk on my way from there to the rec room, where I plan to drown myself in some form of hot liquid caffeine. See you there in fifteen."

T'Var gives Kylah a reassuring smile. "In the end, all will be well," she says. "You should rest. I will check in on you now and again while continuing with my duties in Sickbay."

Det. Lunnd and Collins wait patiently as Rangin gathers his thoughts.

Dr. Villa asks Dr. T'Var to look over a proposed vaccination schedule for the ship's seven Rigellian crewmembers, in light of a recent Tavinai flu update by the Starfleet Surgeon General. There's no hurry.

It is now 1630 hours, and each of you are now off-duty. Lt. Onn is relieved as BCDO by Capt. Singh. She asks as she settles into the big chair, "Anything out of the ordinary to report, Mr. Onn?"

Graham washes off and changes into casual clothes. He takes a look at the the snow globe, the puts it back in its bag and heads toward the infirmary.

Kylah nods and thanks T'Var, then turns around on her right side--which bothers her less than her still slightly-sore left, and finally lets go of the straps of her canvas bag so it rests on the floor. This makes her gaze fall upon the small table near the bed, where her new communicator has been placed.

The urge to contact Velir fills her with loneliness. She cannot imagine what she would say to him. The avenue for regaining even his friendship seems blocked forever.

She closes her eyes tightly, certain she will not be able to rest. But exhaustion soon takes over--along with the medication--and her body gives in to the need for sleep.

Rangin looks across at the pair of them. Two police officers now looking to give him the third degree when all he wants to do is get back to his work. He didn't really trust Collins given how she sided with Graham and Rangin is always wary of any officer looking for evidence, given that it was normally aimed at him. With Security's very apparent dislike of him, Rangin is expecting this to be a setup job. After all, he's from Coridan so it's expected.

Putting on a neutral demeanour, Rangin begins speaking clearly. "There is very little to tell. We transported down. Ens. Kylah wanted to fix her zither. The shop we checked out was shut. We wound up wandering for a while until we ended up some quaint hostel, a little off the beaten track. I don't think we were really welcome by the two groups already there. We got some drinks. Ens. Kylah helped out some lady in the Restroom. We chatted for a bit, nothing serious. I went to the restroom came back and found she was gone. Contacted her and she said she was sorting out something to do with her zither. Agreed to meet up later. I went out and bought some gifts and then Ens. Kylah contacted me. We met up, wound up arguing and then I left as shore leave was over. That's it."

Rangin sits back in the chair and waits to see what else he will be asked.

Nia stands and shakes her head, glad to be out of the chair. "No sir, there've been no further developments since my last update, and no further matters on the ship have been brought to my attention--so I assume things are running smoothly."

She then turns over the datapad with Russell's proposal on it. "There is this, for your review, Captain. I think you'll find it... intriguing." She can't help raising an eyebrow and smiling. Finally, she mentions the new temporary standing order regarding having the transporter crew keep the Bridge informed of activity beaming on or off the ship. "That was Lt. Thalen's idea, Captain, and if I may say so, I think it might be useful moving forward, at least during potentially dangerous missions off the ship."

When her watch is officially over, Nia thanks the other departing Bridge crew as they all go their separate ways. Her own first destination is, as she promised herself, Sickbay. Once there, she slows down, takes a deep breath, and enters to visit Ensign Kylah.

...Who turns out to be sleeping. Nia exhales, a bit relieved despite herself--she hardly knows what she would have said--and looks down at the patient. Eyes closed, one hand clutching the blanket up around her chin, the girl looks barely out of her teens. Kylah also looks paler than Nia remembers, possibly due to some fading bruises on her skin. Her shoulder is visible above the blanket, and a healing but still yellow-purple bruise is ugly against otherwise smooth skin. As Nia stares down, she cannot help envisioning another young woman, about this age, lying there. Her skin would be much darker, the hair in tighter curls. The face is... a blank. Nia cannot imagine the features of someone she has never seen, not grown like this.

She does not think often of what might have been; Nia tries not to indulge in such pointless exercises. But her heart aches anyway. The truth is, she has no idea if the person she is imagining is alive or dead. She will never know if she ever experienced anything as traumatic as what Kylah has been through. Please no, she thinks, closing her eyes briefly at the terrifying helplessness swelling within her.

Then she opens her eyes, annoyed with herself. There is no point to this. Nevertheless, unable to prevent the impulse, Nia gently lifts the blanket to cover Kylah's shoulder, careful not to wake her. Then she turns, walks through Sickbay with a grateful nod to T'Var, and enters the corridor. All timed perfectly to find Graham walking toward her. Nia looks away from him for a second, needing a moment to collect herself, and then turns back to face the security officer with a smile.

Collins listens to Rangin's curt description of his trip to Anubis. Sounds reasonable, but why is he being so defensive?. She decides to voice her concerns.
"Why are you being so defensive, Ensign? No one is accusing you of anything. In fact, it's because of you that we've gotten as far along as we have."

Graham surprised by Nia's smile. Why should I be? he thinks, everything doesn't have to be fucked up all the time...

He takes and exhales a deep breath and manages a slight smile himself. "Probably the worst shore leave ever," he says, shaking his head. He shrugs and raises the hand holding the snow globe bag. "But hey, for what it's worth, I, uh, got you something down on the planet."

Det. Lunnd waits for Rangin's answer to Collins, and then asks:

"What sort of repair did Ens. Kylah's zither need, if you know?"
"'Hostel' has different meanings in different cultures. What does it mean to you?"
"What were the two groups already there in the bar that made you feel unwelcome?"
"How exactly did they do so?"
"Other than ordering drinks, did you have any dealings with the bartender?"
"Did Ens. Kylah?"
"Were you aware of her intention to exchange currency?"
"Did either you or she drink to excess?"
"What was wrong with the woman in the restroom, and how did Ens. Kylah help her?"
"Did Ens. Kylah explain why she left while you were in the restroom?"
"When you later met up with her, what did you argue about?"
"Forgive the intrusion, sir, but are you and she romantically involved?"
"Did she seem in any danger to you when you last saw her?"
"Was she acting normally?"
"Is there anything I haven't asked you, that you think I should know or that might have any significance to this case?"

Nia, about to ask Graham any number of questions about the investigation, is--for one of the few times in her Starfleet life--at a loss for words, at least for a few seconds. "You--what?" She shakes her head at the rudeness of her own question and tentatively takes hold of the bag, although she doesn't actually remove it from Graham's grasp. For now, they are both supporting it together. "You got me something," she repeats, looking down at the bag, then back up at Graham. "That was... wow, that's..." Incredibly thoughtful? Strange? 'Forward,' like Cece said? Ugh, no, not 'forward,' who are you, some character in an ancient romance novel? She finishes at last: "That's a surprise, to put it mildly. In between attacking criminals you stopped off at a gift shop? Those must have been pretty slow bad guys."

But she defuses the words with another smile, unusually shy for her, and now takes the bag. Whoa. Heavier than I was expecting. What the heck is this? "Seriously, thank you. But... um, before I open it... can I ask the questions I had for you and get them over with? Because--" Nia peeks into the bag, only to see a box that tells her nothing about whatever this gift is. "I'd like to give this my full attention. Do you have a couple of minutes to walk with me to one of the conference rooms so I can get that coffee?*"

Assuming the conference rooms have replicators for coffee; if not, substitute one of the rec rooms up on Deck 8.

"Well, we were on land, of course, so I could move a lot faster than I could in the pool," Graham explains, not entirely sure if the gift was entirely welcome or not--or if I just violated some custom, could have done some research I guess... "And it was only one guy. That I attacked."

He clears his throat. "But, ah, anyway. yeah, sure--lead the way, ma-... Nia."

Nia tries, not entirely successfully, to suppress a grin at Graham's hesitant speech. For a man his age, his size, his attractiveness, his experience... he's sure awkward. In a very cute way.

Of course, she doesn't say anything about that. "Thanks, Booker. I'm just... I'm in the opposite situation to you--I've been sitting so long in the big chair today, waiting for any slight trickle of information I can get, that I just feel like being in motion. You're probably tired out and--oh, hell." She stops, turns, and puts a hand on his arm. "I didn't even say it, did I? Thank you. You guys did a great job. It sounds as if at least two of the men you caught might be the bastards who tried to crush that young girl. Woman." Nia glances back at the Sickbay, still able to envision Kylah's pale form. "If I could I'd buy the whole team a drink. I hated just listening to what was going on, having no role to play, cut off like that waiting for any news. Sometimes you want to make an actual difference. Not just let others do what should be your job..."

She turns back to Graham to see if he understands, without fully hiding the concern and anger from him. When she meets his gaze, seeing herself reflected in his eyes, Nia realizes she's making an idiot of herself. Or at least being way too... something... with someone she barely knows. With a brusque shrug, she tries to shake it off. "Sorry," she says, removing her hand and starting down the hall. "So... um. I'm not fully aware of what's going on, since honestly, the ACOS isn't super-great with reporting. What is going on with the interviews on the ship? Why is this Lunnd guy interviewing Rangin? He wasn't even around when Kylah was attacked. You know anything about that?"

"Well, we all have our part to play," Graham replies, encourangingly. "I can manage rolling around in the mud to collar some worthless punk, and you can, you know--fly the ship and save all our asses, if it comes down to it." Then he sighs.

"Uh, Rangin." He scratches his head. "Well, I guess I did attack more than one person today," he says in a queiter voice than typical conversation. "He ah--was the, ah, last person to see Kylah on the planet. He's been acting..." Like a sick, twisted... Graham decides not to go there. "Uh, weird. Enough so that I thought he posed a threat to Kylah, earlier...."

He looks toward Nia wondering if he needs to explain further what happened, then pauses and looks back toward Sickbay.

"Anyway, I can send you a copy of my official report later if you want. " He shrugs. "Something to remember me by if Vargas transfers me to the ass half of the quadrant.

He quick steps to catch up with Nia and gestures expansively. "But hey, on the bright side, you're right, I'm pretty sure we got one of the assailants. Lunnd seems solid, I bet we'll track down the rest of the sons-of-bitches..." He starts his sentence cheerfully, but heat starts to be obvious as he continues, realizing he's talking about the perpetrators of the beating.

His demeanor shifts immediately though, becoming almost wistful.

"I just hope...ah, Kylah..." he frowns and glances back toward Sickbay and then toward Nia. "Uh, holds up ok, it's been a...not a good time for her," he says softly.

Onn and Graham see Lt. Thalen from down the corridor, apparently coming to Sickbay.

Nia finds Graham's words difficult to process, as he reaches several subjects before she has a chance to react to any of them. First he seems to be saying he--he attacked a fellow crewman? And it was Rangin? Velir Rangin against Booker Graham. The image is a ridiculously unfair match-up, unless the former were holding a disruptor and the latter had one arm in a sling.

"You're not going to get transferred," she starts to mutter, knowing through personal experience that Vargas will punish intra-crew quarrels harshly but not unfairly. Well, not entirely unfairly. Nia still bears a grudge against an incident from early on in her Yorktown days. But her words are blown past as Graham focuses on Kylah's attack. And his look toward Sickbay is full of unspoken feeling.

"Hopefully she'll recover, physically and mentally," Nia says. "It's a damn shame someone so new to Starfleet's been through as much as she has. But she will get through it. If she's got friends and family who care for her, that'll help." They've reached her destination and, after noting Thalen's presence, she quickly enters the conference room, heading toward the replicator. Before she reaches for it, she pauses, remembering Kylah's insistence on having Graham with her during questioning. Why beat around the bush?

"Do you care for her?" Nia asks, glancing up at him. "Is that why you got so mad at Rangin that you and he..." She finishes by putting up her empty fist and punching Graham's arm lightly with it.

Graham shrugs, not sure what Onn means about "getting mad at Rangin." I was doing my job...

"Well of course I care for..." he starts to reply, then the requisite number of synapses click.

"Oh, you mean--uh..." he looks away, feeling as if he's blushing furiously, but not sure why.

He feels his shoulders tense and clears his throat. "No, not that--I mean--she's almost exactly my daughter's age," he says, directly addressing the wall rather than Nia. "Even reminds me of Lizzy sometimes. But even smaller than Lizzy," he adds, his voice trailing off.

Memories of both Elizabeth and Kylah looking up at him, resolute--and mad at him--blur together. He clenches and unclenches his fists unconsciously.

"And she's in a hospital bed," he says tightly, turning back toward Nia. "On my watch."

Everything about Graham's emotions and stance feels charged with electricity, and Nia takes a step back to examine him. His daughter's age. He has a daughter. And Kylah... he feels responsible for her...

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you had a daughter." Does he have a wife? Didn't notice a ring... crap, better not ask about that, my foot's already filling my mouth as it is. "But... you say Kylah's in Sickbay on your watch," she adds quietly. "Let's address that first. Unless you have some secret orders from Starfleet Intelligence I don't know about, you're not Ensign Kylah's bodyguard. Far as I'm aware, she went down to the planet with Rangin, then went off by herself, and then... some animals attacked her. How is that your fault? Hell, I was in the Captain's chair at the time. If it was anyone's watch, it was mine. And I'm not saying I don't feel like shit about it. But realistically I also know that this was a shore leave. It wasn't a mission, she wasn't one of a group of officers whose moves I was supposed to be tracking. Do you feel you're supposed to be tracking her, even when she's off duty? She's not a child. Yeah, she looks about fifteen lying there in that bed, but she isn't. She's... she's an adult and a Starfleet Officer. Presumably that means she's able to handle herself."

Nia leans against the wall, hands across her chest--including the one still holding his gift bag. "I don't know. Maybe she does need protecting. I have no idea how unworldly she is. If she's been kept under lock and key behind palace walls, maybe her parents shouldn't have let her go off to Starfleet in the first place. Maybe she should followed around by a royal guard. But from what little I've seen of her, and the reports I've heard of her actions, Kylah doesn't seem the type who'd appreciate being put on a leash. Even though she does have the judgment of a five-week-old puppy: all enthusiasm and passion but clumsy and likely to poke her nose into a hornet's nest. It hurts. But she'll learn eventually. Or she'll keep getting stung."

She switches her gaze to the side at the replicator, not really seeing it. "I know you feel responsible, and that speaks well of you. It really does. But you're not actually responsible for her. That doesn't mean it's easy. In fact, it's harder when you know, deep down, that you really don't have any control over someone you care about. When you can't protect them every minute of the day, or be sure where they are all the time, or even know if they're alive or dead..."

Her voice is a bit hoarse and Nia swallows hard, hurrying to abandon this line of thought. She forces herself to focus on Graham again. "Booker. You've got to let go of the belief that people can save others from every possible harm. We can't. Not unless you lock them in a cage for the rest of their lives." Taking a deep breath, she reaches out to hold his arm again, feeling the tense, coiled strength of him beneath her fingers. "You can and should watch her back if you're assigned to do so in a mission, but today... she got out of her cage. And predators found her. That's the risk we take when we're set free. It's not your fault."

She lets her thumb caress his arm for a second, one tender brush to comfort him, and then starts to let go. "Now," she says, forcing a bright tone. "Do you like yours dark or light?"

Rangin fixes Collins with a fixed glare. He had seen this game played before, had played it before and he sits there with no intention of giving away anything more than the absolute necessities. Not that long agom Collins had been quite happy to agree that Rangin could not be in the same room as Ens. Kylah without supervision and now she is accusing him of being defensive.

Don't worry, we're all friends...you can trust us...why don't you tell us what happened. No Rangin is not going to be that stupid. If it looks like they are trying to get him for something, they probably are.

He sits and waits patiently for the next question to come from the detective. He has nothing to hide, he did nothing wrong, but Rangin isn't going to give them anything to even consider the question.

"What sort of repair did Ens. Kylah's zither need, if you know?"
Damn, first question up and nothing to do with the attack. All Rangin's senses, which were on alert, fire and now he can see they are looking to blame Kylah for what happened. She may have been a stupid bi.., no Rangin reins his mind in from even that line of through. Just stupid for now.

"Pass", he responds coldly.

"'Hostel' has different meanings in different cultures. What does it mean to you?"
"In this particular case a bar, pub or inn. Does that make it clearer?"

"What were the two groups already there in the bar that made you feel unwelcome?"
"I'm sorry that question makes no sense. Do you mean the two sets of locals?"

"How exactly did they do so?"

"They seemed unhappy with us not being local."

"Other than ordering drinks, did you have any dealings with the bartender?"
"No."

"Did Ens. Kylah?"
"You'll have to ask Ens. Kylah"

"Were you aware of her intention to exchange currency?"
"Why would she tell me if she needed to change currency?"

"Did either you or she drink to excess?"
Rangin just looks straight across the table and fixes the detective with a glare. "I did not, you will have to ask Ens. Kylah about her own drinking habits."

"What was wrong with the woman in the restroom, and how did Ens. Kylah help her?"
"I don't know and she talked to her the lady's colleagues."

"Did Ens. Kylah explain why she left while you were in the restroom?"
"I've already answered that."

"When you later met up with her, what did you argue about?"
"I fail to see what that has to do with Ens. Kylah's attackers."

"Forgive the intrusion, sir, but are you and she romantically involved?"
"Forgive the intrusion? I'm sorry I thought we were taking a statement about the assault on my colleague, not the state of her love life."

"Did she seem in any danger to you when you last saw her?"
"No, but then she was attacked after I left."

"Was she acting normally?"
Rangin pauses and considers everything that Kylah has gone through over the last few weeks. If she hadn't been a little off-kilter than something would have been wrong.
"Yes"


"Is there anything I haven't asked you, that you think I should know or that might have any significance to this case?"

"The gifts were for my sister, but I doubt its relevant. How about, I left before anything happened so I don't know why I am being quizzed like a suspect. Ens. Kylah is a big girl capable of handling her own life. You should be asking her these questions, not me."

Rangin fixes Collins with a very pointed look. "I'm sure once she has recovered you can be given access."

He looks across at the two people who are probably less than happy with his responses despite having told the absolute truth.

"Are we finished?"

Looking down, he realises that his communicator has an unanswered message, surprisingly enough from Lt. Onn. He holds it up wondering if he should answer, but making it clear to both Collins and Lunnd that someone is trying to reach him. He gestures silently with the communicator, his nod enquiring as to whether they are willing to let him leave.

Lt. Thalen sees Graham and Onn and nods as he passes by.

Det. Lunnd frowns at Rangin's responses. He says, "No, we are not finished. That message can wait. As it happens, sir, I have already questioned Ens. Kylah. Now I am questioning you, and it is not for you to tell me what is or isn't relevant to my investigation. You are not a suspect, but I need to explore all reasonable possibilities in this case." He continues:

"By 'pass,' do you mean you don't know what sort of repair Ens. Kylah's zither needed, or you are refusing to answer?"
"Did you observe Ens. Kylah have any dealings with the bartender, other than ordering drinks?"
"I will ask you again: when you later met up with her, what did you argue about?"
"Are you and she romantically involved?"
"Do you have any reason to wish her harm?"
"Do you know of anyone else who might?"

Graham starts to tense and frown as Nia goes on.

I thought you had some questions, not a lecture, he thinks.

He starts to open his mouth to respond: there's a lot you don't know about...

Then he shuts it as she touches his arm.

She's being entirely sensible. And friendly. Also really good-looking too...

He forces himself to relax.

"Uh, light. And sweet. Just like my personality," he says instead of launching into an argument, with a little shrug.

He smiles a little. "Remind me not to introduce you to my daughter, you two would gang up on me for being overprotective just like she and her mother did, when she--"

The memory is not entirely bitter--but far from entirely sweet as well.

"Look, ah, anyway...we can talk about the past anytime, but right now: are you going to open that bag or what?" He points to the bag. "I mean, I probably could have apprehended a dozen more bad guys and put half the crew in a headlock in the time it took me to find that..." He gives himself a couple obviously exaggerated gorrila-like fists taps on his chest. "Or managed...Hell, I don't know--maybe half a lap?--across the pool."

He shrugs again. "I've got to know if I spend my time wisely, right...?"

Rangin looks back across the table at the detective. So they had already spoken to Ens. Kylah, so why did they need to speak to him. He hadn't been there when she had been assaulted, so why did they even need this conversation. They would have got everything from her...unless she had been lying again and they thought he was guilty of it.

"Fine, let's continue," growls Rangin unhappy with the fact he was being set up, "Let's continue my questioning on relevant possibilities to Ens. Kylah's unfortunate assault."

By 'pass', do you mean you don't know what sort of repair Ens. Kylah's zither needed, or are you refusing to answer?"
"Again with the zither, would love to hear how it is relevant, but then I never saw it, so I don't know...or didn't Ens. Kylah tell you?"

"Did you observe Ens. Kylah have any other dealings with the bartender, other than ordering drinks?"
"I was a little too far away to tell, being sat at a table while she was at the bar."

"I will ask you again: when you later met up with her, what did you argue about?"
"And I'll answer again, none of your business."

"Are you and she romantically involved?"
Rangin struggles to get a grip on his temper and calm down as it hits a nerve. He doesn't want to think about how close they got, how she offered herself and how he rejected it. Not now. "Didn't you say you wanted to discuss relevant possibilities. This isn't relevant, I wasn't there, this is nothing to do with me, I'm the one who found her after all. If it wasn't for me she'd be bleeding out somewhere unknown."

"Do you have any reason to wish her harm?"
Rangin freezes. He may hate her, may not ever want to see her again, but hurt her. No. But if the detective is asking this question...

Rangin leans back over the table, his voice a lot colder and calmer than before. "You said relevant possibilities. If you're asking me that, then you are considering me as a possible suspect. Somehow I don't think I want to take any further part in this interview, especially if you think I did it and this is a little more than just your average questioning."

"Well?" Rangin addresses the pair of them, but especially Collins, "am I a suspect or not?"

"No!" Collins says hastily and sincerely. "At least not as far as I'm concerned. Please answer the detective's questions," she pleads. "We all want this whole thing over and done with."

Nia smiles, a trifle crookedly. "Right." Light and sweet. First innuendo fail--and yeah, considering that describes Bennett perfectly, I should've expected that response. Plus he's sending all kinds of signs, flares and fireworks that spell out 'not interested except maybe in sexytimes.' All right, I can roll with that. He probably heard about her proclivities and has put her in an entirely different category from the sweet submissives he likes. She's surprised by her disappointment. What does she care about this near-stranger?

Except it was nice to see a man with some maturity and depth behind his eyes.

"Of course. Sorry for being presumptuous. I didn't want you to think I was all about the presents, so I figured I'd pass the time with conversation rather than ripping open the box immediately. But let's get to the gift-opening time." Nia turns and orders the coffees--hers is hazelnut, black with sugar--and passes the cup to Graham while she sits down. She lifts the box--weird balance to it, it shifts and... there's liquid in it? Nia's eyes flick sideways, suspicious and twinkling. Must be a gag gift. Swimming medal or whatever. Or a water-filled dildo? Is he that obvious? Wouldn't be my first crass gift, but he doesn't seem...

Then, the box opened and tissue paper removed, she draws out what first appears to be a clear glass orb, larger than expected. Definitely not a sex aid, or if it is, he's got me waaay overestimated--

She lifts it and her heart catches a beat. Inside the perfect crystal orb set on a deep brown wood base, is water--not entirely full, but relatively close. It's not clear after all, but instead reveals an odd little scene. Settled at the bottom are hundreds of tiny white flakes and pellets, some glistening like silver. There's a miniature cabin flanked by two evergreen trees, a little snowman, and, as she brings the object closer to her face, she can see two tiny, winter-clad children near the snowman. One seems to be tasked with placing the coal-black eyes of their creation, the other is rolling another huge 'snowball,' perhaps beginning a little snow-woman companion. Peering even closer, Nia can see that the boy holding the coal has dark brown curls beneath his faux-wool cap; the girl pushing the snowball has wee black braids.

"Ohhh..." Her breath escapes her in a sigh without her realizing it, and her eyes widen in awe. "Just look at this," she whispers. The slight movement of her hands as she lifts the globe higher causes the mock snow to drift upwards a bit before settling. And she suddenly remembers that she's seen one of these before, back on Earth during an Academy winter break. Nia glances up at Booker only for a second before returning to the gift, then shaking it as she remembers her friends doing back in Tahoe.

The particles immediately scatter, like a mini-explosion, and when she stops they float and cascade downwards on the cabin, trees, snowman and the kids. The kids. Against her will, Nia's eyes prickle slightly with unsheddable tears at how happy they seem now, how incredibly perfect and right, even though they're alone. They're not wanting for anything. Inside the cabin is probably hot cocoa and a fire and two loving parents. Or maybe just one, and perhaps another child, too small to play outdoors with its siblings. Nia doesn't usually spend such time in imaginative fantasies, but the thought pleases her even as it's bittersweet. She laughs unexpectedly, despite herself, and shakes the globe again so she can once again watch the pretty snowflakes swirl and surround the figures at the bottom.

"Oh Booker," she murmurs, cradling the globe in both hands. "This is... this is lovely. Just lovely." With a warm look at this charming object, she shakes her head and says almost reverently: "I've almost never seen snow. I went to Lake Tahoe on Earth once, and we were expecting to do cross-country skiing, but the weather turned out weirdly warm and there was almost nothing there. But my friend bought me something like this--well, not really like this at all, it was small and plastic and cheaply made, and broke--leaked water and foam pellets everywhere in my suitcase," she adds with a distracted chuckle at the memory. Really she's just talking to distance herself from the figures inside. She's not usually this sentimental but seeing Kylah and hearing about Graham's daughter... she's filled with a longing that she hasn't allowed herself in a long time.

Cupping the gift like a baby's head, she lowers it to the table and looks up at Graham. "Thank you. I wasn't expecting anything like this. Not something so beautiful or so... so well-considered." Her eyes crinkle with her understanding smile. "It's because you know Sidonia has never seen one drop of snow, right? I've experienced it maybe twice in my lifetime: once during a trip at the Academy, and once on a mission to an ice-planet about a decade ago. But I've never forgotten it. It was like magic." She turns back to the snowglobe with pleasure. "So is this. I don't know what to say. You're... you surprised me. I don't even want to tell you what I thought it was," she adds with a sudden flush and another much more wicked chuckle.

She corrals her thoughts, lets the globe leave her fingers, and stands up to face the security officer. He's not much taller than her--really, if she wore higher heels, they'd be eye to eye. Not caring that she's fairly certain he has no interest in her, she covers his cheeks and stares at him. "To answer your question. Yes, Ensign Graham. You spent your time wisely." She bends forward, kissing him on the lips, feeling her naturally cool skin warm considerably at the touch of his mouth to hers and--though she really, really wants to know just how much warmer his tongue would feel inside her--she ends the kiss quickly. "Very wisely," she murmurs for emphasis, staring up at him and holding the glance for a moment before releasing him.

"Thank you, Booker. I'd call such a gift completely unnecessary but, to be honest..." Nia looks down at the snowglobe fondly and her voice is very soft. "It feels necessary to me. Not that it was necessary for you to give me anything, I just... this globe means more to me than you realize, that's all. I'll treasure it."

She very much wants another kiss. But... Bennett. Light and sweet. That's his preference. Probably his wife, the one he doesn't want to talk about, was like that, too. Knowing she'd probably better not say anything more, Nia flashes a warm but slightly less full smile, then turns to put the globe almost reverently back in its box.

Graham finds it surprising--and endearing--the way Nia handles the snow globe as reverently and intensely if he'd just given her something as precious as a pure dilithium crystal...

It certainly seemed like a gift that had made sense, given what they'd talked about, and his apparently correct assumption that if she had ever felt snow she must have found it as or more amazing than experiencing rain.

She comes across as kind of a badass, not the sentimental type... Watching her handle the globe he starts to think he was obviously unfairly stereotyping her personality...

He's not sure what she could have thought it was...something stupid and macho? A rueful thought occurs to him: what would Rangin think I would buy someone?

That thought is quickly and entirely banished as Nia stands in front of him: he's expecting she'll say thank you, maybe give him a hug, to which he'd respond "it was nothing, really..."

This assumption was clearly wrong: Graham is caught flat-footed as she starts to give him what he anticipates as a comradely hug and instead touches his face and kisses his lips.

It's over before he can respond. (What that response should be he's not sure...)


He realizes he's standing there like a drooling idiot while she turns, very...elegantly, he thinks...the way she propelled herself through the water and pulled herself easily from the pool start to stand not in contrast to what he's just seen, but to cohere into signs of a more complex person than he'd assumed previously.

Not that I have a problem with badasses, but...

He's...aroused...by the kiss, he can't deny that . But after what he's just seen he can't imagine that a random roll in the hay in a conference room is what she wants from him. Or even if she did, what's right for her...

He reaches forward after a moment's hesitation. "Nia..." Graham more blurts her name out rather than managing to be suave. As she turns away he puts his hands on her upper arms. Strong, muscular...she could really put up a fight if I tried to turn her around, he thinks--but that's not relevant...

His touch is as light and gentle as he can make it to indicate he'd like her to turn back toward him--but such that she could practically blow them off her with a deep breath.

"The gift...it seemed like the right thing to do," he says. "Given what, ah, little I'd learned about you...but I'd ...it feels right to learn more, if you..."

He feels like even more of an idiot. She's a beautiful, tough, smart senior officer who probably any number of men (or women) half his age knocking on her door, pestering her for attention...

"...if you feel that's worth your time," he continues..

There's no hint of either apology or innuendo in his tone. There's an old saying: laying your balls on the table. Don't be a coward, Booker. She deserves more than that.

It's a stark statement of fact he makes, trying to hold her eyes. "I'd like that, Nia."

Det. Lunnd, frowning, looks from Collins to Rangin and raises an eyebrow.

Pivoting to face Graham, Nia lets her gaze take in the hope and--most interesting--the respect in his eyes. She lowers to look at his mouth, moistening her own lips, and then steps toward him. "I wouldn't have kissed you at all if I didn't think you were worth my time," she murmurs. "But I'll say this. That's twice you've surprised me in five minutes, Booker. First with this amazing gift, and now... well, I'd written you off as uninterested."

Nia absently brushes her thumb along Graham's mouth, removing a trace of her lipstick. "You're probably tired as hell, and I'm happy to wait until our off-duty times mesh. But for now, before we go any further--if we do--I will tell you one important thing about me.

"I'm as straight a shooter as you'll find." She puts her hands on her hips, chin raised and proud. "What that means is, I don't promise what I can't deliver; I don't agree to be monogamous if I want to sleep around, and I don't pretend I'm fine with being casual if I've got my heart set on one man. In short, I don't play games with others' feelings. And I don't lead men on a merry chase or force them to run an obstacle course."

She shrugs and tosses her heavy ponytail of curls so it falls from her left shoulder down her back. "Some guys prefer the teasing, hard-to-get types, and that's fine. I may miss out on them by being so upfront. But I figure it's for the best."

Inhaling, she can smell the mingled scents of the hazelnut coffee and something that is pure Graham. "I'll also just say that almost the minute I saw you--and I've noticed you before you entered that pool last night--I've wanted to get to know you. I'll explain why some other time, but... well, it's the truth.

"If that kind of directness is a turn-off, tell me now, because if so, we'll be wrong for each other for anything other than a one-nighter. Which... sure, is something we could do," she admits. She lifts her hand to his chest and playfully smooths his uniform while lowering her voice. "Make no mistake: if it weren't for all the emotional upheaval we've been through today, and a new mission nearly ready to begin, I'd invite you back to my bunk--I don't share, by the way, that's another plus about me--and perform some acts on you that a few planets don't even allow to be spoken."

Nia smiles, lips tilting sideways. "But that's for another time, if you're so inclined. Truth is, I think I want more from you than one night. I can get one nights elsewhere." She inches closer until he'd only have to bend slightly to reach her mouth. "If any or all of this interests you, Booker," she whispers, "it's time for you to make the next move."

Rangin looks at both Lunnd and Collins and realises with a sinking feeling that Lt. Collins is really and truly just trying to be helpful. Detective Lunnd had had Rangin down as a suspect before this interview even took place, probably over something Kylah had said, whether inadvertently or whether she had lied to save her own skin, just like she did on the planet.

Either way, Lunnd was looking for more than just a witness statement from Rangin and Collins was unthinkingly giving him all the legitimacy he needed.

"Well Detective." Rangin rest his elbows on the table, hands flat to the surface, and speaks slowly. "In your list of relevant possibilities, am I considered a suspect?"

Even though there is no hurry, T'Var looks over the vaccination schedule and will contact the Rigellian crew members to confirm their appointments.

The doctor leaves Sickbay and decides to enjoy a brisk workout at the gym. Then perhaps something light to eat.

With the air of someone keeping a grip in his temper, Det. Lunnd says to Rangin, "I've already told you you're not a suspect, but frankly, your evasiveness and attitude aren't helping. You've just been asked by Lt. Collins to answer me fully, and still have not." He turns to her. "Please call whoever has the authority on this ship to order this man to answer my questions."

The vaccination schedule makes sense to Dr. T'Var. She is able to either contact each of the Rigellian crewmembers or leave messages for them. The gym is not too crowded. She sees her cabinmate Lt. Bennett on a cycling machine; the young Englishwoman smiles and waves to her.

"Honestly, Detective," Collins decides "I don't think that's necessary. The two of you are so alike, you're just butting heads at this point, waiting to see who blinks first." The anger in her voice is quite obvious. "You," she looks at Lunnd "stop acting like Ensign Rangin is a suspect if he truly isn't, and you," she looks at Rangin "stop being so defensive and just answer the damned questions." she almost shouts. "Knock off this insane measuring contest already!"

Graham is surprised, too: that I'd be a fool not to be interested.

But also that he's also more...comfortable with women who...what? Fit more neatly into a simple category: "just like one the guys"--like Rachael. Or..."unapproachable." Like Bennett...or Jane.

Huh. Maybe I'm also a fool to get involved...

"I don't believe in playing games with people's feelings either," Graham replies slowly, shaking his head just slightly, inches away from her face.

He takes hold of Nia's shoulders--still gently but a little more sensually, getting a sense of she'd move and feel with more...intimate...contact.

The contact is...welcome...but he realizes it's been awhile. It's been an even longer time since he actually felt intimacy even when there had been "contact."

Uh, Fasial's probably right, I would be a better roommate if I got laid...

That little voice in his head recedes far away.

"Or in running away in fear from the unknown, no matter how far...beyond...what felt safe in the past it might seem..."

He leans down and forward--fair enough, "my move"--to kiss Nia's lips.

He's clear on--in fact, a little grateful for--the fact that Nia isn't looking for a tumble under the conference room table like a couple of Academy cadets... But the closed-lipped kiss feels a little too...un-intimate for the moment.

He moves closer and lets his hands slide naturally toward her shoulder blades, and while he doesn't insist on a deeper kiss, he offers...

At the touch of Graham's mouth, Nia closes her eyes and follows every lead he sends her. When he pushes forward and makes it clear he's ready for more than a light kiss, she responds in kind, opening up to him and letting her body loosen so she is leaning against him, feeling the muscles against her softness. The kiss is delicious and she sighs in pleasure, the tiny moan reaching from her mouth to his. She wouldn't mind if he were more aggressive, because the strength she feels in his arms is something she desperately wants around her. And yet there's also something charming about the deference and care with which he's holding her. It's as if he thinks he'll break her, somehow. Go ahead, Booker, break me, she thinks, entwining her fingers in his hair and pulling his face even closer. Break me and put me back together again. Turn me into something new, something that's yours.

The hint of the scales usually visible on her skin disappear, an unconscious, automatic message from her body. It only happens when she's ready to be vulnerable, ready to be touched anywhere, and everywhere. Without those scales her skin tingles with every light touch, even that of her clothing, even the pulse in his wrist on her back. Getting ahead of myself, she thinks, despite being almost sleepy with longing. Way ahead of myself... unfortunately...

She knows this because in the back of her mind she still hears Graham's self-conversation before he finally took hold of her: he's insecure, he's got mixed feelings, he's not used to someone like Nia. These feelings won't go away with one achingly hot kiss.

After some time, which she has no idea how to track, she breaks from the kiss, keeping her eyes closed for a few seconds just so she can encapsulate this moment, the burning, tingling of her lips and tongue, and the heat from his breath as he exhales only millimeters away.

But the spell has to emd at some point. Her eyelids flicker open and search his gaze. "Wow," she murmurs, clearing her throat. She fingers his hair to neaten it against the band that pulls it back from his face. "I hope that was at least a quarter as incredible for you as it was for me." Nia smiles and rests her fingertips on his mouth. "...But a gentleman wouldn't tell me if it wasn't. So there's no need to confirm or deny."

She steps back and shudders slightly: her skin is cold without his body against her, now that her scales have receded. With her shudder her body begins to return to normal. Shell back in place. "Booker," she begins while taking hold of his hand. "I understand what you said. In fact, I think I maybe understood a little more than what you actually said." She lifts his hand to her lips, kisses it, then cradles it with her other hand. "Let's get to know each other. You need to work out what's best for you, and I want to work that out as well. If you're not sure about me, if you have a different type of woman in mind... even a specific different woman... I'll back off."

Smiling, because she still feels ripples of pleasure, Nia turns to gather her things from the table. "That's actually another truth about me," she adds lightly as she busies herself--something she's doing consciously in order to let Graham think without having to worry about controlling his facial expressions. "I don't compete with other women for guys. Whatever else you think of me, I have my share of pride." Nia waits a moment for that to be digested before turning back to him, her gift bag and coffee now in hand. "Okay, Ensign. You may now speak," she says, lightly teasing him for the way he's just looking at her.

Nia seems to appreciate his kiss...

No, wait...whoa...

She throws herself into the kiss and his embrace with an intensity that he's...

Happy to reciprocate isn't the right word.

That he does and wants to reciprocate.

It's infinitely more straightforward, in the moment, and primal than weighing a bunch of pros and cons.

Nonetheless, when it ends and she stands with her eyes closed for a moment, his first instinct is to ask if something is wrong. He's infinitely grateful that he's still too occupied...looking at her....the way her nostrils move when he breathes. The tiny asymmetries between the curve of her eyelids... to speak before she does and he ruins the moment.

No, nothing's wrong, you idiot...

He collects his thoughts but doesn't speak until she goes on to... there's a different sort of heat he starts to feel other than that of arousal as she goes on.

I don't compete with other women...I have my share of pride.

She's saying it matter of factly--it's neither an accusation nor a complaint, but it still seems to imply....

That women exist for entertainment.

That they're just a notch on your belt...

Did someone treat her like that?

Graham calms himself down. Let's get to know each other shall we? Tell me the worst thing a man ever did to you. Great idea, Booker...

But if he's learned one thing already it's that Nia Onn does not need him to be her father.

Also she's pretty funny too, he thinks when she gives him leave to speak.

He clears his throat and then rubs his chin thoughtfully. "So, no obstacle courses for either of us, then?" He shrugs and grins slightly. "Probably for the best--unless we've got some females from a native aquatic race onboard, handicapping the swimming portion would be a real nightmare."

Hs smile turns more openly and sincerely--more like a slack-jawed schoolboy, her thinks, but he doesn't care, when he fully takes in the picture of her standing there with bag and coffee in hand. "Nia, you could be transported right now into the middle of the ritziest shopping street on Rigel among the galaxy's 'privately-owned-warp-capable-yacht-beautiful-people' right now and no one would bat an eye."

He shakes his head.

"No harm no foul if you decide you don't want a broken-down old ensign spoiling the picture." He pauses and then offers, hopefully. "But I can carry a lot of bags, that's one point in my favor..."

Graham's flattering words elicit Nia's rich, throaty laugh. "Thanks. I can honestly say I've never gotten a compliment like that. 'You belong on a ritzy shopping street.' Hopefully you meant as a customer rather than as a delivery girl." She smiles, although it hasn't missed her notice that he completely avoided her reference to whatever... thing... is going on between him and Bennett. Was that purposeful, or was he just unable to pick up on what Nia thought wasn't hugely subtle? Then again, there's that 'broken-down' remark. Can he really not realize that more than one woman might want him?

Suddenly she remembers what Bennett called him. 'Forward.' Seriously? This guy who's asking to carry my bags like a footman, and thinks he's ready for retirement? Seht'Dar's prolific balls, either he's putting on an act with me, or Cece's got a bigger stick up her butt than I ever thought. Nia shakes her head slightly in confusion, and then the wicked idea occurs to her: Hey, maybe he bought Cece the glass dildo! The absurd notion nearly makes her choke with suppressed laughter, especially when she remembers her thoughts about the stick.

"Um... " Nia gets herself together. "Right, well, I have no doubt you can carry almost anything you set your mind to. Now, as for calling yourself old... hey, I come from a planet where a woman my age is considered next door to a dried-up old hag. Age is all relative." She tilts her head and casts a deliberate examination of Graham from head to toe. "Mmm. Yeah, I think you're forgetting that I saw you half-naked in that pool yesterday, and a minute ago I was standing close enough to you to tell how many ribs you've had fractured over the years. Nothing I saw or felt seemed broken-down or old to me."

She smiles and lets her dark emerald eyes gleam with appreciation, then leans over and gives him a kiss on his cheek. "Besides." she murmurs, "some of the best times of my youth involved finding crashed airships and fixing them good as new. If anything on you does turn out to need repairing, I won't rest until I make you forget it ever troubled you. Promise." The last word is invested with much more sincerity than her otherwise joking tone, as is her steady gaze at him. Then, slowly, she kisses him again, this time on the lips--longer, lingering, and very loath to part.

"Ohhh my," she exhales when through, staring up at him. "Damn, Booker. You are... you're something a gal could get very used to. You didn't accidentally come back from that last mission infected by those freaky spores, did you?" Grinning, she forces herself to take a step back again, clearing her throat again. "Okay. Off to take a shower. Thanks again for this. The gorgeous snowglobe, I mean," she adds with a laugh while lifting the gift bag. "Sure wish we could head to the mess together. But you're probably still on duty since the shore leave threw our schedules out of sync, right? Maybe we can grab a meal tomorrow, if everything's back to normal?"

Graham's bemused... What the fuck kind of planet calls her a dried-up old hag?

What the fuck kind of planet indeed, he thinks as she gives him another kiss.

He frowns--just a little bit--when she mentions the spores.

"Violence breaks the spore's influence...but, ah--yes, I'd like that, to grab a meal tomorrow," he adds with a smile. He's still smiling when he adds--with an obviously exaggreated batting of his eyelashes , "Or a shower, too..."

For a split second he feels twenty...no, thirty...years younger...

Then he sighs and shrugs. "But right now--on duty or not--I really do need to file a formal use-of-force report with Vargas."

He's not sure how to leave things. At one point he would have tried to guess what clever and appropriate thing Rangin would come up with to say, with even a little admiration--but now he knows his behavior its just a manifestation of a sick need to manipulate and control...

He's also realistic about the fact that whether he's onboard with getting to know each other or not (which he is), if they engage in another kiss he's likely to find a tumble under the conference table too hard to resist...

He moves quickly--maybe a little too quickly and formally, as if he's been dismissed by Vargas... but after all, he's the junior officer...toward the door, but when he turns back toward Nia he takes her free hand in his.

He turns them over, marveling as if he's never seen hands before. Her lustrous skin against his...that seem to him pale and scarred...like a ghost, or a revenant, only halfway returned from the dead to pursue some forgotten and futile mission whose time had passed...

"Whatever happens...I'm glad I chose 'Nia' over 'Lt. Onn' yesterday," he says, concluding by looking up at her face and giving her hand a squeeze.

He nods and (unless stopped) moves to leave the room.

There's plenty to enjoy in Graham's flirtatious comment about the shower, and Nia beams approvingly. Atta boy, now you're showing me what I thought I saw yesterday. The next few words go by in a blur, although he says them casually, and then he takes her hand and she tries to forget the hint of concern that his somewhat glib remark instilled in her. His fingers are strong, not long but thick, solid--a working-man's fingers. Her father had fingers like this--at least, the scars and roughness.

"That 'Nia' was the first of several good choices," she says, shaking the bag again. But her smile is a little wary now, because she hates to break the mood with the necessary question about his glib comment. Damn it. Stupid responsibility.

"But now, um, I might be about to make a bad choice, because... I really don't want to spoil the atmosphere with a work-related issue, but it's sort of my duty..." Nia's expression tightens as if expecting a blow. "I have to ask, because I just spent about five hours as the faux commander of this ship, and if something happened on my watch... well, you know exactly how that feels." She gnaws at her lip, then just spits it out. "This use-of-force you mention. Are you talking about capturing the criminals, or... is there something else I should know about?"

Lunnd seems taken aback by Collins's reply. He asks stiffly, "Now you're deciding what questions I can ask, too, Lieutenant? Are you refusing my request to call Mr. Rangin's superior, as well?"

The door to Kylah's Sickbay room whisks open, and Lt. Thalen looks in to see if she's awake.

Awakened both by the whoosh of the door and the rush of emotions that make it clear someone is nearby, Kylah opens her eyes from a not-very-restful nap. Despite an uncomfortable sense of half-consciousness that often occurs when woken in the midst of a dream, it takes her only seconds to recognize Lt. Thalen--Andorians are not plentiful on the ship.

"Lieutenant," she says, then clears her throat and excuses herself, running her good hand through her messy hair. "I am sorry, I did not expect anyone. How kind of you to come, sir."

Without losing the intensity she'd just displayed, Collins replies, "You're trying to blame Ensign Rangin! He may be surly and unresponsive now, but that's because you're treating him like a criminal! I'm a pretty good judge of character, Detective, and Rangin's mood is because he had an argument with the woman he loves! And Ensign Kylah is young. And led a sheltered life before joining Starfleet, so of course she's naive! You have Lez in custody! What the hell are you trying to accomplish here?"

Rangin was about to say something but the effect of Collins' last statement freezes his brain into submission and his mouth gapes slightly.

Woman...he...loves... Just what had Kylah been telling people. Hadn't she been the one wanting to keep it private, hidden, just between the pair of them? And now a Lt. who had the brain power and empathy of a brick wall is going on about them being in love.

"Just what did Ens. Kylah say about the pair of us?" Rangin's voice comes out in controlled fury, as his fists hands to bunch into fists and he forces himself to flatten them, knuckles white against the table, wondering if Kylah had decided to spin some set of lies to save her own skin.

Collins is virtually pushed out of her chair by the intensity of Rangin's, what? anger? embarrassment? "She didn't say a thing, but I could see by how she looked at you, and you, well, you can't be that hurt by someone for whom you have no feelings." Collins leans forward and tries to sound calming "Look, I just say what I've observed. I've seen the dynamic before. Hell, I've been part of that dynamic before." She pauses a moment "If neither of you are willing to admit your feelings for the other, you'll just go on inadvertently hurting each other. Nobody wins. Don't be those people."

Thalen pulls up a chair beside Kylah's bed and says, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I know the Captain was here earlier. I won't be long. Just wanted to look in and see how you're doing."

Lunnd stonily watches the interchange between Collins and Rangin, and says, "I will take your response to me as a 'no' to both questions I asked you, Lieutenant." He pulls out his own communicator and calls Thoth Constabulary HQ. "Lunnd here. Please put me through to the USS Yorktown."

"Aren't you there already?" comes the reply.

"Yes," he says. "Now do as I ask."

After a pause, "Yes, sir. Stand by."

Kylah nods slightly and tries to look professional, or at least not like a physical and emotional wreck, in front of her superior. "I am doing better, thank you, sir. And you didn't wake me, not truly. I have been in and out of sleep for some time. They have given me some medications to calm me down, and..." She ends in a small shrug.

Looking at Thalen, she feels awash in guilt. If she had not sought the extra half-hour of shore leave, she would not have put herself into this position. Swallowing, she looks down briefly. "I--I am sorry to have caused all this difficulty. For such a superficial reason. You were so generous toward me. You do not know how much I appreciated that. And then all this happened. I should not have--" Lied to you, taken advantage of your good nature... "--asked for special favors as I did."

Graham's surprised by Nia's question and starts to drop her hand, then realizes what he's doing and gives it a little gentle squeeze and lowers it to her side. He can't help but start to pace, though.

He clears his throat. "I, ah, wasn't kidding when I said I used force against Ens. Rangin earlier." He pauses and shakes his head. "And it wasn't any kind of fight, either, I meant it was in the line of duty."

He resumes pacing and frowns. "I didn't start out thinking Rangin was a suspect in what happened to Kylah, but he was..." Hostile isn't the right word, Graham thinks: I'd expect him to be hostile to me. "Uncooperative, even evasive down on Anubis. And I'd thought there was...something...between them."

"By the time he came to Sickbay, I knew he was the last member of the crew to have seen her--something he wasn't very forthcoming about--and I didn't have any hard evidence something could have happened between them after which Rangin beamed up, while she was MIA." He shakes his head again. "But I still didn't think he was a suspect until..."

He stops pacing, a few feet away from Nia, facing her. "Then he started talking to Kylah--something about being sorry, which got my attention..." He draws into parade rest, as if he's giving a report to Vargas. Well, she is a superior officer, and she asked... His voice is level, emotionless--she asked for a report, not a psychotherapy session.

"He laid hands on her, and she said 'stop' and 'you promised you wouldn't hurt me.'" He closes his eyes briefly as he recites those words, passing briefly to collect his thoughts as he remembers what went through his mind at that moment.

"At which point, in my experience, his behavior was consistent with abusers who express contrition but want to demonstrate that they still have physical control over the victim. So much the better that there were other people--me and T'Var--in the room. A little squeeze, a pinch..." His voice is no longer emotionless and his jaw tightens. "They want to force the victim to say--to convince herself--it's no big deal and even if it were there's no one to turn to."

He turns away, his hands still clasped behind his back. "This was on my watch."

He turns back toward Nia, raising his hands. "He needed to be separated from her without being able to do that, so I..." He starts to show what he did, but the proximity to Nia and the thought of touching her...that way...makes his stomach turn. He takes a breath and his tone becomes more clinical. "Well the details don't matter, I took hold of him in such a way as to cause a lot of pain or unconsciousness if he did not comply immediately."

He suddenly feels tired, pulls our a chair, and drops down into it. "I subsequently learned that, no, Rangin did not inflict these...physical...injuries." He spins the chair so he's facing Nia. "Although I don't think anything good is going on between them."

He looks down at his hands, turning them over as if deep in thought.

It's little known fact most Starfleet Security officers go their entire career without the need to use lethal force, they said at the Academy.

You beat those odds, Booker, he thinks. You sought out those assignments, assignments where it came down to them or you, after.... As if one or 10 or 100 or a million evil beings removed from the universe for good could ever make up for the loss of Jane...

"You must know wonderful things, Nia...how the ship behaves in a warp field, how to slingshot her around a star's gravity well..." He looks up at her, wondering what she's thnking. "Me, I just know how to sniff out the worst sort of human* garbage, and kill it, if necessary."


*I assume by the 23rd Century there's a word or a nuance to a word like "sentient" or "humanoid" that takes into account human-like but not human species, which is what he'd use if there is.

The laser-like focus of Nia's attention is fixed on Graham, and she sees his discomfort, the barely controlled anger, and genuine concern he's going through while reciting what apparently was a far more intense confrontation between him and Rangin--not to mention Rangin and Kylah--than Nia realized.

She listens fully to this man, taking in the dichotomy between his gentle insecurity with her and the indignation, the threat of violence, against those who harm others. When he makes his final pronouncement about what he sees as the difference between her and him, Nia waits a moment before she kneels down beside his chair. She rests a hand on his knee, caressing it, and says softly, "Don't underestimate yourself, Booker. There's no 'just' about your ability--your willingness--to seek punishment for wrongdoers. As long as you genuinely feel you're right, and have evidence to back it up."

Another few seconds pass as she mulls over his words. She finds herself resting her cheek against his knee, sighing. "You're right that I know some wonderful things. But I also know something about how men--well, anyone--can take advantage of someone who's vulnerable. How they can manipulate and hurt without necessarily lifting a finger in violence. It's a sickness. I don't know if it has a cure.

"And if that's really what Rangin was--is--doing with Kylah, then you were right to stop it. It sounds as if she's been hurt more than once today, by multiple people and multiple ways. Bastards." Suddenly lifting her head, she looks up at Graham. "You know that detective from Thoth--Detective Lunnd--he's interviewing Rangin now, right? Or was, last time I checked in. Have you told him all this? Because even if Rangin wasn't still on the planet when Kylah was attacked, that doesn't mean he couldn't have... I don't know... arranged for something. Maybe that's why he left early. Gives him an alibi."

This seems crazy. Could it be true? Nia can't be sure, and she shakes her head as her hand tightens around Graham's knee. "I think you need to tell Lunnd what happened, what you saw between Rangin and Kylah in Sickbay. I mean--damn, who treats a battered girl like that? Maybe you'd better see if he's still on the ship. He might be able to find out if Rangin had any contact with that sleaze you picked up, or whoever else was involved."

"Admit our feelings? Ens. Kylah showed exactly how she felt about me not that long ago. You were there.." Rangin's exasperated tone punctuated by the force of his chair sent tumbling backwards as he stands up suddenly "Ma'am with the greatest of respect...oh what's the point, it doesn't matter what I think."

Rangin leans over the table to the pair of the them over the table. "Let's get this straight. I came here of my own volition to answer questions about a brutal assault that was inflicted on a fellow crew member. I wasn't expecting to be forced to answer questions and I wasn't expecting to have my, or that that matter Ens. Kylah's, private life asked about. You want to ask questions freely and get answers out of me, expect me to say no on occasion."

Looking straight at Lunnd, "I notice you didn't answer about me being a suspect, don't bother. You want to treat me as a suspect, forced to answer questions, go ahead. I'll be back with a ship's counsel, who will undoubtedly say that my only recourse is to say nothing at all. Now, I want the bastards who did this caught and locked away for a very long time, and I'm hoping so do you. So which option do you pick? The one where I got ordered to answer and say nothing, or the one where we sit down reasonably and continue this conversation like nothing ever happened and I don't necessarily answer all your questions."

Rangin reaches back, still shaking slightly from his fury, to pick up the chair and sit down in it again. "Your call."

Graham pats the hand Nia's placed on his knee.

After all he's seen today, he's pegged Rangin as a psychological manipulator, probably prides himself on his big brain and never getting his hands dirty.

But regardless of whether there's more going on or not, nothing good is happening between them...

Graham gives her hand a squeeze and stands up and shakes his head. "I'm not sure what's going on, but whatever it is, it isn't good, and, no, despite what some might think, I don't believe some kind of mano-a-mano backroom confrontation where I tell Rangin to 'stay away from Kylah' is going to do any kind of good, so your point is taken I should report what I've seen to...well, maybe Lunnd and probably our chains of command, maybe more important."

He sighs and moves toward the door. This time his tone is sincere. "I definitely would prefer that shower, but..well, duty, and all. See you tomorrow, Nia."

Thalen insists Kylah did nothing wrong, shouldn't blame herself and has nothing to apologize for. He does his best to put her at ease, and asks, "Is there anything I can do for you while you're here?"

As Lunnd waits to be connected, he says crossly to Rangin, "I already told you that you weren't a suspect, Ensign, but you've certainly given me cause to reconsider."

A voice Collins and Rangin don't recognize comes over the comm channel. "This is the USS Yorktown. May I help you?"

The detective identifies himself and asks to be connected with Rangin's superior officer. The voice replies, "Uh, that would be the Science Officer, Lt. Cmdr. Roble. Please stand by."

After a few seconds Roble comes on. Lunnd again identifies himself and says, "I am aboard your ship, in Conference Room 5 with Ens. Rangin and Lt. JG Collins. Ens. Rangin has repeatedly refused to answer several of my questions as to my investigation of the attack upon Ens. Kylah. I need your assistance, Commander. Could you join us here, please?"

"On my way," Roble says.

At Thalen's offer, Kylah tries on a weak smile, but it does not suit her and she lets it fade away. "No, I cannot think of anything, thank you. I promise I will do my best to be back on duty as soon as I can. I would rather not be isolated or idle for long." Her gaze falls as self-loathing tightens her lungs. Yes, how very noble these words are, for someone so intent on abandoning her duties a few hours ago!

She tries to change the subject and searches for an idea--and, when her lowered eyes are aimed at the bag on the floor, she realizes there is something Thalen might be able to do for her. "Actually... sir, I could use some advice. Of everyone I have met on the ship thus far, you are probably the person who would most understand..."

Kylah swallows back her desire to cry. She gestures feebly toward the open bag, where fragments of her zither can be seen scattered almost everywhere. "I do not know if you have heard, but my grandmother's zither was destroyed during the--the incident. It cannot be fixed, as you can see. And even if I had the hope of purchasing anything in the near future, the heirloom was irreplaceable. Those zithers are ancient and not commonly made today. But perhaps I can find something else that would provide some--some solace? I can play multiple instruments, but the music I know best requires something that can produce multiple frequencies, chords, semitones--and it should be small, too, so I can use it when alone in my quarters--"

She realizes she is risking revealing too much about her unique uses for the zither, and draws back against her pillow. "I am sorry, I should not presume to be so particular. I just... I use the music to help me rest." Kylah flushes, again embarrassed at telling a half-truth. Her music does soothe her, but her purposes here are anything but restful.

"Anything available would be greatly appreciated," she amends softly. "Is there any such instrument on board? A Vulcan or Risian lute, perhaps? Obviously I do not need it now, but I just... I would rest easier knowing that I had some alternative available. Knowing that music is not entirely out of reach because of what happened to me--what happened to this." She stares at the bag, haunted by the shattered remnants of crystal and stone.

Rangin sits back in the chair, calming his nerves. As detective Lunnd talks to Lt. Cmdr Roble and mentions the several questions, Rangin holds up two fingers to signify just how many he hasn't answered.

Roble, at least, has a grasp of logic though Rangin hopes he doesn't immediately just use the "nothing to hide" line or order to him to answer without at least considering a right to silence. Perhaps he might be able to persuade Lunnd that the questions he is asking have no bearing on what happened and were only being asked to satisfy Lunnd's own personal prurience.

He sits back and waits for his commanding officer to arrive.

As Roble and Lunnd talk, Collins watches Rangin. Why won't you just admit it, she thinks at him, knowing there isn't even a remote chance he'll hear her. Ugh, you're acting like a primary school kid. The more you like a girl, the more you do to hurt her so your buddies don't suspect you like one of 'the enemy'. And Kylah was devistated when you verbally spat on her. I've seen her upset before, but not like that.

Thalen looks off into space, thinking. "Hmm. Let me ask around among the Lyceum members. I'm sure we can find you something." He smiles. "No one who craves music should be deprived of it. Anything else I can do?"

Lt. Cmdr. Abdi Roble soon arrives, looking calm and unruffled, and Det. Lunnd briefly explains the situation. The Science Officer asks, "You've been recording your interrogation, your interview with, Ens. Rangin? Please play it for me."

Lunnd doesn't look pleased, but he complies. Roble then says, "Please excuse us for a moment. I would like to talk to Ens. Rangin alone."

The Thoth cop looks even less pleased, and seems about to say something, but instead heaves a disgusted sigh, grabs his things and heads for the door. Does Collins follow?

Collins follows Lunnd. "Would you like to talk with Ensign Kylah again, maybe? Or I could show you the Mess and you could get some coffee and a bite to eat if you'd like."

Kylah shakes her head and brushes a hand across her eyes, pretending to push some hair away in an attempt to hide her tear-glazed eyes. "No, sir. I will be fine. And you have been too kind already." She means the words quite literally. If Thalen shows her any more generosity or compassion she might lose her composure altogether.

Before he leaves, Kylah suddenly remembers a question that has nagged at her on and off since she awoke in sickbay. "Oh! There is one thing I do not know. The thieves smashed my communicator, and I had been beamed far away. How did the crew know where I was? At first I thought perhaps some civilian discovered me and got in touch with the ship, but once I realized they took my uniform, there was no indication that I was from Starfleet." She shakes her head again, confused. "So how was I located?"

Graham finds a private location--such as a small conference room--in which to to compose a report to Cmdr. Vargas.

This is a formal report on the use of force in the line of duty.

He looks up and notes the Stardate as closely as he can identify it to the incident in Sickbay, an the location not only by location but also by intra-ship coordinates.

Dr. T'Var was a witness to the entirety of the incident. Lt. Collins was a witness to part of the event, and, in consequence, I submit this report directly to you, leaving her to submit her own unbiased perspective on the incident.

This report does not address the entirety of the investigation into the assault and robbery of Ens. Kylah but rather the circumstances surroudning my use of force under color of law against Ens. Rangin.

I was beamed down to Anubis and at such time did not consider Ens. Rangin a suspect. However, I found his responses to my questions about the circumstances of the assault to be evasive.

On the planet I concluded that it appeared that Ens. Rangin was the last member of the Yorktown crew to see Ens. Kylah prior to the assault.

Subsequently, In the Yorktown Sickbay Ens. Kylah was recovering under medical care and apparently unconscious. I and Dr. T'Var were present. Ens. Rangin entered the room and proceeded to aggressively look into Ens. Kylah's bag that she had had on the planet, without grant of permission Ens. Rangin expressed contrition for something indeterminate, and subsequently took hold of Ens. Kylah's arm. At which point Ens. Kylah stated "stop" and "you promised you wouldn't hurt me."

At this point in time in my professional judgment and experience Ens. Rangin's behavior was consistent with that of abusers who seek out their victims to express contrition while at the same time demonstrating their ability to exercrise physical control or inflict physical pain at any time and in any location, including the presence of of others. I was not aware of any evidence that would preclude Ens. Rangin having been the assailant and the beaming up before Ens. Kylah was located.

My professional judgment at the time was that Ens. Rangin posed a threat to her physical safety, psychological well-being, and ability to testify in court assuming Ens. Rangin had been the assailant. Accordingly, I immediately placed Ens. Rangin in a control-and-compliance hold designed to inflict either extreme pain or unconsciousness immediately should he fail to comply with instructions, in this case instructions to release and move away from Ens. Kylah.

I disobeyed a direct order from Dr, T'Var to--and I quote--release Mr. Rangin immediately. I believed that with additional information Dr. T'Var might change her order, but this point was made moot by the arrival or Lt. Collins. Lt. Collins physically attempted to separate me from Ens. Rangin, and I complied, believing that trying to maintain control of a suspect while struggling with a trained Security officer posed too great a risk of injury to the victim or others.

Subsequently, conversation with Ens. Kylah led me to conclude that that Ens. Rangin did not personally inflict these injuries on her. At the same time, Ens. Rangin was verbally abusive toward Ens. Kylah in Sickbay, as witnessed by Lt. Collins and Dr. T'Var, and while it may not violate criminal statutes I wish to express my concern.

Graham makes the appropriate signatures and attestations.

And, as I stated verbally earlier, I waive any rights to representation or appeal of the decisions of the Yorktown command staff.

With respect I request this report be shared with Ens. Rangin's superior officer and Detective Lunnd of the Thotth Constabulary.

Graham flags this as "important" and transmits it to Cmdr. Vargas.

Rangin waits to see what Lt. Cmdr. Roble wants to say to him.

Lunnd says to Collins, grudgingly, "Yeah, maybe some coffee. Thanks."

In response to Kylah's question, Thalen grins. "Ens. Rangin did some magic with the sensors and was able to isolate your zither's crystals from all the other readings down on the surface. He gave us the coordinates we needed to send the Security landing party which found you." He leaves with a cheery wave.

Cmdr. Vargas's yeoman immediately acknowledges receipt of Graham's report. The First Officer will read it in due course.

Roble asks Rangin quietly, "Other than 'it's none of his business,' is there any particular reason you're not answering all of the detective's questions, Ensign? Of course you have a right against self-incrimination, but if it's just out of a concern for your or someone else's privacy, or out of irritation - as I have to say it sounded to me, from the recording - I hope you will reconsider. Cmdr. Vargas promised our full cooperation with the local authorities."

T'Var acknowledges Bennett's greeting and joins her on the cycling machines. "I need a bit of a workout before heading to the mess hall for a game of chess with Mr. Johnson," she tells her cabinmate. "I believe he is planning a nice dinner for us as well."

His report done, Graham uses the terminal to look up information on Sidonia.

And...Sidonian anatomy....well, just in case. I figure if there's anything....weird...Nia would tell me, but...just in case...

Bennett smiles. "That sounds nice. You've been seeing a bit more of him lately, haven't you?"

The Library Computer whirrs as it accesses the Sidonian anatomical database.

"Mr. Johnson is a worthy chess opponent," T'Var says. "He is also an excellent cook."

The doctor pauses a moment. "And I do rather enjoy his company."

"Sir. The only questions I have not answered are those relating to Ens. Kylah's personal life and whether I wished her any harm. I wouldn't dream of answering the first and the second is both incriminating and insulting. Everything else asked has been answered."

Rangin sighs as he thinks back over the questions. "I'm sorry sir but from my point of view, some of those questions are only being asked because he can and not because they have any relevance to the assault."

"If he is asking those questions because he thinks they are relevant, then his comment earlier about not being a suspect are false." Rangin looks squarely across at Roble. "At which point sir, my only recourse is to say nothing. Sir, do you know of any alternative?"

Bennett's smile broadens. "Well, good for you, T'Var. I'm glad."

Roble says to Rangin, "I have no law-enforcement experience, so I'm probably not the right person to ask. But if you think it at least somewhat possible that your answers might be incriminating if you do, indeed, later become a suspect, then perhaps it would be best for you to stand on your right against self-incrimination. It might form the basis for later Starfleet investigation and discipline, however. The decision is yours."

The Library Computer tells Graham the following:

The planet Sidonia is located in the Sinam system. Sidonia was thought to be uninhabited as late as the mid-22nd century due to its unusual Class H atmosphere (containing an extremely rare gaseous compound of Bilitrium, normally a crystalline element) and proximity to the late-stage Sinam star, which makes the planet extremely arid and its atmosphere toxic to most humanoids. However, it is home to a humanoid species that evolved from creatures similar to Terran lizards.

By 2185, the increasing size of the dying star Sinam led to Sidonia's dwindling water supply and increased solar radiation took its toll on planet life. That year, a solar flare ignited a substantial portion of the Bilitrium-laced atmosphere; on the now-solely habitable Southern hemisphere, inhabitants began dying of dehydration and radiation exposure, and fewer infants survived childbirth. Sidonians are thus in danger of becoming extinct.

About biology:

Due to the composition of their planet's atmosphere, Sidonians can only tolerate the standard oxygen/nitrogen air found in M-class planets for a period of 36-40 hours before their health begins to deteriorate due to suffocation. Until recently, this prohibited Sidonians from traveling outside their star system. However, recently-developed concentrated respirators have made such emigration possible by replenishing Sidonians' bodies with the compounds they need to survive.

The most populous race on Sidonia, the brown-skinned Ne people, have some reptilian features: in addition to being semi-chameleonic (able to change color matching the local desert environment) and most comfortable in very hot temperatures - as well as sluggish when cold - their skin is covered by smooth scales, normally only visible around the eyes, edges of the forehead and body (mostly upper arms and legs). At times, either by conscious decision or instinct, the subcutaneous scales can emerge to cover all or part of their bodies, providing limited protection against blades and sharp hazards such as horns, claws, and teeth. Conversely, the usually visible scales can also be retracted entirely, particularly as a sign of heightened sexual arousal. This too can be an automatic reaction or a conscious act to display vulnerability to a potential mate.

His curiosity piqued, Graham reads on:

Sidonians' survival on a dying planet led to the Propagation Act of 2200, which attempted to stem the dwindling population through strictly regulated procreation practices. Under this new law, male and female Sidonians are now required to reproduce as early and often as possible once they reach sexual maturity (which occurs as early as 11 years old). Though multiple births are common, so is infant mortality. Non-reproductive sexual activity is discouraged unless adults are infertile. Birth control is illegal, as is terminating a pregnancy for any reason other than the imminent death of the mother.

Such laws can only be enforced against residents on the planet itself, though some emigrants continue to follow these proscriptions. Although emigration is still a relatively recent phenomenon, most of those who are among the Sidonia Diaspora - as the scattered emigrants are called - still adhere to these proscriptions, and also rarely mate outside their own race, although biologically they are compatible with most humanoid species with male external/female internal sexual organs, including Humans. As a result of this rarity, fertility status of such pairings is currently unknown....

Does he wish to read further?

The door whooshes shut behind Thalen, but Kylah is too stunned by his revelation to acknowledge the departure. "Ens. Rangin did some magic with the sensors and was able to isolate your zither's crystals... He gave us the coordinates we needed...."

Her gaze is fixed on the room's far wall. He found me, she thinks. He used my zither and found me.

It is not surprising that Velir would come up with a clever scientific method for locating her, of course... yet Kylah remembers all too clearly those contempt-filled words just before he planned to beam up from the planet. He never wanted to see her again.

How easily he could have made the wish come true by simply not putting forth the effort to assist the search.

But that would have been antithetical to this man. His conscience, his responsibility, his selflessness, his intelligence--all part of the reasons Kylah cares so deeply for him--are why she is now safely back on the ship.

Kylah looks blindly toward the new communicator on the table nearby, so shamed and emotionally exhausted she can no longer hold back her tears. She reaches for the device and holds it in her lap while she tries to rally her courage.

At last she flips it open. "Ensign Kylah to Ensign Rangin," she whispers.

In the Mess, once Lunnd has his coffee, Collins taps the panel and gets one for herself. "Off the record, Detective," she asks him, "why do you believe that what Rangin is keeping to himself is so vital to the investigation? Do you think, after his fight with Kylah, that he hired some low lifes to cause her trouble? He is intense, but I've been on missions with him. He's neither violent nor vindictive. Even when injured and threatened, he is still in full control of his impulses."

Rangin sighs and looks down at the table. "That's just it sir, those questions have nothing to do with what happened to Ens. Kylah. Although I suppose that there is only my word for it. Besides if the detective is asking me, and has already talked to Ens. Kylah, no doubt he has already asked her the same question."

Rangin shakes his head wondering how having nothing to hide could wind up with the threat of a Starfleet tribunal now hanging over his head. "Sir, the problem is that I don't know where I stand with Ens. Kylah and with the Detective having spoken to her, I have no idea what she has said."

Rangin hears the communicator go and looks down in horror. Why would Kylah be trying to contact him, now of all times, didn't she know where he was. He flicks the communicator out of his hand, as if it is burning hot and it skitters across the table top away from both of them.

"I can't talk to her," he quickly says before Roble can react. "I didn't mention to you but Security have said I cannot contact her unless I have someone present at the time." Rangin's voice goes hoarse as he continues. "I wasn't planning on speaking to her anyway, I don't believe she has any feelings for me."

Rangin sits and watches the communicator beep waiting and hoping that she will give up.

Kylah clutches the communicator tightly, waiting in vain for the sound of the familiar voice. But she is not surprised when there is no response. Indeed, after the insults Velir flung at her earlier, so perfectly aimed to cut with the force of her now-missing dagger, the coward within Kylah is relieved. Now she will be able to say her piece in full, without any vitriolic interruptions.

She still does not know what happened. After she woke up, her mind was too much in a haze to understand anything before Collins ordered Graham to release Velir. Once Kylah at last comprehended the barest facts of what was going on--Graham suspecting Velir of something--all she could think of to do was to distract Graham, to talk to him privately and calm him out of his violent mood.

Yet it had the opposite effect on Velir, although his assault used brutal words rather than brutish muscles to wound.

This flashes in her mind before her connection is redirected to the automated system where she is given the option to leave a message. She desperately tries to find the right thing to say, something he might be willing to hear. She can only blurt that which she must say.

"Velir," she begins, timid and weak as no Elasian woman should sound. "I know you do not wish to talk to me. But I just learned--I just heard--"

Her voice breaks and she closes her eyes. "You saved me."

She pauses, shaking her head at her inability to express the depth of what she feels, and forces herself onward. "Lt. Thalen told me how you were able to locate me after I was attacked. Without you, I doubt I would be here. I might have died, alone, on that planet. You saved my life.

"I must tell you how grateful I am. I am also sorry, sorry for everything, unbearably sorry you hate me so deeply. And I am humbled that despite that hatred, you acted as only you can. With the compassion and honor I always admired. I still admire you. And more. So much more, you will never know. I wish you would listen, I wish you would let me tell you."

Kylah stops and begins to weep. "Please, Velir," she chokes out. It is all she can say now, and she closes the communicator to end the connection.

Sinking down onto the bed, she clutches the device to her chest and cries into the damp pillow until the well of her tears finally runs dry.

"I find social interactions with fellow crew members quite gratifying," T'Var replies. "And I do believe such interactions are most beneficial to both our personal and professional lives."

Graham rubs his forehead. Well that may have been too much information...

He decides to quite while he's behind.

Did Nia have to...?

When she was 11...?

Does she want me to...?

Lunnd sips his coffee. "I don't know. But when I'm interviewing someone about a crime, even someone who seems from the outset to be just a witness and not at all a likely suspect, and he tells me something's none of my business... well, I get a little ornery, a little suspicious. I've been at this for a long time, Lieutenant, and 'none of your business' more often than not - not every time, but pretty damn often - turns out to be very much my business." He takes another sip. "You know Rangin one way, in one particular context, but people can have a lot of different layers. Someone who seems absolutely calm and peaceful under normal circumstances can do some pretty terrible things, under different circumstances."

"Well, of course," Bennett says to T'Var, pedaling a little harder. "That's one of the advantages of having this big a crew, at least."

Roble looks at Rangin and the now-still communicator, clears his throat and asks, "So do you wish to speak to the detective again?"

After she leaves the conference room, Nia naturally keeps her gift bag but ends up dumping the now-cold coffee, instead heading to the mess to grab a bite. She's actually starving but knows she can't eat anything too heavy; she needs to get to sleep soon. Her lungs are beginning to burn--seems a little early for that, by her reckoning, but when she checks her chronometer it's a little later in the day than she thought.

She chows down on something pretending to be an open-faced steak sandwich, needing the protein enough to ignore the beef's somewhat tough texture. Wish A.J. was cooking my dinner instead of the guests'. Nia smiles ruefully as she sops up some gravy with a crust of bread. Maybe we'll catch up later this week. Been a while.

Having made short work of the first half of the sandwich, she wraps the rest up and takes it with her as she leaves the Mess. She moves as quickly as she can, although offering a pleasant nod to any friends she passes by, and makes her way to her quarters. The trip feels longer than the one from the conference room to the Mess, but that's not surprising--it is longer, but more to the point, Nia's losing her stamina. By the time she enters her cabin, sinks into her desk chair and takes a long, deep inhale from the mask to her respirator, she's shaking her head with a combination of annoyance and amusement.

And Booker thinks I'm some kinda endurance demon. If he actually joined me in the shower for some real exertion, I'd probably be dead in the water.

It's an exaggeration, but not by much. She closes her eyes and continues to take deep breaths until after only a few moments she's quite refreshed. This will tide her over until she can get a full night's worth of replenishment under the mask. And how hot would that've been for Booker to see? Nothing's as sexy as a woman with half her face hidden beneath a blue plastic dome.

She places the gift bag on the bed, smiling warmly at it, and strips off her clothing before at long last entering the shower to partake in her third favorite activity.

Rangin nods his head slowly. "Yes, let's get it over and done with. I'm not sure what to say and I don't know if I will wind up being silent all over again. But I'm willing to at least try and answers his questions. Sir, would you be able to stay for the short time it should take?"

Sitting there, he wonders what he is letting himself back in for. He doesn't know what Kylah might have said and how much further into trouble he is going to find himself. The fact she is trying to contact him only adds to the worry, that he is being set up. He begins to regret ever falling for her. If he had not gotten so close, once again, none of this would be happening. He could be blithely away chatting with friends, researching the new sensor array or a hundred other things.

Instead, thanks to Kylah, Rangin is here wondering what on earth he did to deserve this.

He gathers himself up and walks down to pick up his communicator, ignores the messages and opens it. "Ens. Rangin to Lt. JG. Collins. I'm ready to speak with Detective Lunnd again in Conference Room 5."

"Granted," Collins admits between sips of her own coffee. "But have you ever heard the ancient saying 'you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar'? Please see if you can shed the orneriness for now, and talk to him man to man instead of cop to suspect. I'll wager he'll be much more cooperative if he doesn't feel persecuted." She sweeps the air with her arm towards the door, indicating they ought to head back to the conference room.

T'Var stops pedaling. She wipes the sweat off her face and arms. "I do not wish to be late for my chess game," she tells Bennett. "Have a good evening."

The doctor leaves and heads to her cabin. She will freshen up a bit, then head to the mess hall for yet another battle of the mind with Andrew Johnson.

After the day he's had, his encounter with Nia, and now what he's learned, Graham concludes there is clearly only one thing to do.

Go lift the hell out of some really heavy weights. He heads for the gym (stopping off to change at his quarters if workout clothes are not available at the gym itself).

Lunnd finishes his coffee and sets down the cup. "Thanks. And may I say, Lt. Collins, how happy I am to have so many Starfleet officers willing to tell me how to do my job?"

Roble says to Rangin, "Of course I'll remain, if you wish."

Back in the conference room, Roble briefly explains Rangin's decision. Lunnd nods and says to the Coridanite, "Thank you, Ensign, for agreeing to fully cooperate." He checks his notes, then asks:

"When you later met up with Ens. Kylah, what did you argue about?"
"Are you and she romantically involved?"
"Do you have any reason to wish her harm?"

Bennett bids a cheery farewell to T'Var and speeds up on her own cycle.

Graham is able to find workout clothes at the gym. After he changes he spots Bennett from a distance; she has not seen him yet. He usually thinks of her as calm, cool and collected, but she seems to be working up quite a sweat on a cycling machine. He also can't help but notice that her civilian unitard shows off her lithe figure quite well indeed.

Inwardly, Collins rolls her eyes at Lunnd and considers hurtling a few epithets his way, but she is a professional, so she just walks with him to the conference room.

In the conference room, she sits across from Rangin and Roble and observes this round of questioning.

Rangin thanks Lt. Cmdr Roble for staying and then waits for Lunnd and Collins to return.

At the mention of the words fully cooperate Rangin raises an eyebrow but says nothing, he just wants this over and done with.

"When you later met up with Ens. Kylah, what did you argue about?"
"Us. She left me in a bar unnanounced." Rangin was going to tell the truth, whether he liked it or not.

"Are you and she romantically involved?"
"No, we are not romantically involved." A few hours or days ago it might have elicited a different answer, but now...no at this point in time, there is nothing between them.

"Do you have any reason to wish her harm?"
"I have no reason to wish Ens. Kylah any harm." If he had, she would still be on the planet somewhere.

Rangin waits to see what else Lunnd is deciding to ask him.

It's not the image of Bennett he expected: neither the exertion on the bike nor the skimpy outfit.

Of course, Nia didn't turn out as expected, not earlier, and not...not as coming from a culture dominated by some kind of desperate breeding program...

Given how focused she is, he doesn't want to interrupt....

No, you're also worried Booker, given how weird today's been. Bennett rushes up to him, grasping his bare arms and whispering breathlessly, "Do you know what I love to do? Compete with another woman for a man's attention. Can you help me with that, Booker?" He eyes bore into his from inches away. "Please...?"

Graham clears his head and practically hurls himself onto a bench to start lifting.

Lunnd looks at Rangin for a long moment, then nods and puts away his datapad. He says, "Thank you. I appreciate your time and your candor, Mr. Rangin. I'll be in touch if any further questioning is necessary." He turns and says to Collins, "Unless there's anyone else you think I should speak to up here, I'd like to return to Thoth now, please."

Graham soon has worked up quite a sweat. He is focused and doing well with the weights.

"Right this way," Collins escorts Lunnd to the transporter room, surprisingly glad to be rid of him. As he steps on the pad, Collins tells the chief "To Thoth, as soon as the detective is ready." She waits for Lunnd to dissolve into glittering particles.

Rangin nods slightly to Lunnd and waits for him to leave the room before sinking into the chair and letting out an explosive sigh of relief. He looks across at Roble, "Sir thank you for staying, but please don't say, 'there see how easy that was'", he comments with a slight grin, "I thought it would be a little more drawn out than that." The grin slowly fades as the thoughts of the day slowly overtake the relief he is feeling.

He rises from the chair, steadying himself as the adrenaline slowly begins to wear off. "It's been a horrible day, in more ways than one and for more than just myself. I should put the past behind me, unwind, grab a bite to eat and get back up to speed on that new sensor." Rangin shakes his head remembering what state he had left it in. "I had a plethora of ideas about what to look for, and I can't even remember if I had a chance to write them down. Typical."

He looks down at the communicator, signalling the messages awaiting his attention from Lt Onn and Ens. Kylah, but he decides to leave them until later, when he feels more able to deal with them.

Taking his leave of Lt. Cmdr. Roble, Rangin heads out to the Mess Hall.

Det. Lunnd says, "Thank you again for your help, Lieutenant," and is beamed down to the surface.

The Science Officer nods. "I understand. Glad to be of help... if indeed I was. Carry on, Mr. Rangin."

There are about two dozen people in the Mess Hall. Rangin recognizes only Ens. Giya, a female Deltan chemist, bald as are all of her species, and Ens. Chris Johnson, an American sensor specialist. They are dining together. Giya gives a friendly wave when she sees Rangin.

It suddenly occurs to Collins that she's hungry. It hasn't been that long since lunch, but the events and activity of the last two hours have consumed her energy, so she heads to the Mess. She chooses a hearty pasta dish and looks around for a place to sit. That's when she notices Rangin. She torn between letting him have his space and apologizing for ruffling his feathers. After a brief mental coin toss, she decides to apologize. She approaches Rangin. "May I join you?"

With a plateful of food, he sees Giya wave to him and with a relieved smile Rangin nods back to her noticing she is sat next to Chris as well, who could certainly help out with his thoughts on the new sensor, if he wasn't already up to speed on it.

And then Lt. JG. Collins suddenly appears in his eyeline between the relative sanity of fellow scientists and being diverted to share a table with her. Is she really going to chaperone him here? Did Security really distrust him that much? It isn't like Ens. Kylah is going to be walking through the doors any time soon. But from her opening line, it doesn't feel like it. No Ensign Rangin, no orders, just a simple request.

Cursing himself inwardly for being caught like this as well as being polite to the fault of stupidity, like his next action, he keeps a straight face as he responds. "Sure, why not." He gestures to a table for Collins to sit at and while her back is turned to place her tray down, he looks back across to Giya, shrugs his shoulders slightly with eyes rolling and mouths out "Catch you later." before sitting down opposite.

After a long day, including some cordon bleu preparation for a dinner with several guests at the Captain's table, Johnson is itching for some downtime, and T'Var said she was interested in playing some more games together, perhaps all night. Then again Johnson also picked up a call that Ens. Kylah wanted to see him in Sickbay, apparently happy with her little gift, so off to see her first and pick up T'Var on the way out assuming she is still in Sickbay.

And with that in mind, he sticks his head round the door to her room and in the light spilling from the door can see her outline in the bed, breathing lightly and lying there in what looks like troubled slumber. Her hair lying all over the place, casting shadows, and her hands are clutching at the pillows her face is buried in.

"Damn," he mutters, shrugging to himself as he stands next to the bed, "She's asleep. Oh well there's always the morning I guess." Sniffing the air slightly he can smell the sickly sweet scent of the Bellaque lingering in the atmosphere and then spies the dessert half eaten, with the rest neatly wrapped up for another time.

* * *

From her not-very-deep rest, Kylah senses emotions not her own. She opens her bleary eyes and inhales sharply when she spies the figure not far from her in the darkened room.

"Who is there?" But almost as soon as she says the words, she recognizes the visitor. Not just from his tall, lean form, but by his thoughts and his very scent: she recalls that lotion he uses on his hands from their first meeting. Kylah pushes herself up and brushes away the messy curls that have fallen over her eyes so she can see him properly. The communicator falls from her hands and she flushes at having kept it so close by, as if Velir is likely to contact her ever again.

"Oh... Mr. Johnson, excuse me," she murmurs weakly as she hurriedly replaces the device on the stand near her bed, then wipes her face free of tears. "I forgot I asked for you. I appreciate your coming. But..." She frowns, looking more closely. "You seem so tired. You could have waited until morning."

* * *

Johnson turns a dim light on and gets a better look at the troubled young ensign. She's been crying, the eyes puffy and red, her face drawn from days events, in short she looks a mess. He decides to keep it lighthearted, probably the only thing she hasn't managed to be today. "It's alright ma'am, I thought I'd drop in and see how you were doing and how the Bellaque tasted. Really sorry to hear about what happened, and I hope the dessert helps. Seeing as half the plate has gone, it can't have been that bad." Johnson leans across and pinches a piece of it off the plate, savouring the taste and nodding at how well it come out. "Not bad, for about a dozen different goes at it. You were right, it was a tricky bugger to make."

He licks his fingers off noisily as he heads back to the chair and sits down. "So, how you managing? Heard about what happened, and thought you could use the pick-me-up." Johnson stops speaking. He may have a load of questions to ask, but he'll let Kylah at least answer the first one before he starts again.

* * *

The ma'am makes her shake her head. "Please call me Kylah," she says, and then gives a weak smile at the truth of how much of the Bellaque has disappeared through the afternoon. "I feel better than before. The wounds are almost completely healed, although there is some soreness. Mostly I just feel..." Her weary head droops. "...Drained. So much happened over the past day, I can hardly move."

Then his earlier words sink in. Of course, the dish must have taken a number of tries to get right. She glances at the plate, her depressed mood lifting enough to let her focus on Johnson's effort. "You took such time and care with this. Indeed you must have started the Bellaque even before I was injured. And it was delicious. Truly. Almost indistinguishable from what I would get at home." Reaching out, she dabs a finger into the honey-colored liquid that covers and surrounds the dessert, daintily licking her fingertip for a quick reminder of how excellent this dish is.

"Only this syrup is different--naturally enough. The sap of an Elasian Aldex tree is unlikely to be part of the ship's stores or replicator. But whatever you used is an elegant substitute. Stickier, but the consistency actually makes it richer." She stops her dissection of the dessert and looks up at him in wonder. "I just cannot believe you went to such trouble for me. That is two nights in a row you have been so generous."

More Yorktown officers displaying kindness despite her willingness to abandon them. This, plus the memory of the aborted dinner with Velir--ruined by her clumsy attempt at seduction and Velir's rejection--drains even more energy from Kylah and her ability to maintain a social façade slips. "I did not expect you to put in so much research and work. I am not worth it," she ends in a whisper.

* * *

"That's only one night in a row, Kylie. I was going to give it to you last night, but there were a few reasons." Like Ens. Ragdoll he thinks to himself. "Seriously, I like cooking. I do this for most people on the ship...and I owe you for that first meeting...and it's nice to see it appreciated. And after I saw the recipe...yeah there are a couple more reasons, but don't worry about it." Johnson tries hard to keep his grin hidden, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. Getting you to admit you enjoyed me giving you sticky lips.

Shaking his head a couple of times he looks across at Kylah face filled with concern, wondering how much he should ask or say. "I'll be honest, it would have been last night once I got your treat across to Ens. Rangin." Johnson shrugs as he remembers the miserable little ensign, sat looking guilty in his cabin. "But he seemed to think you wouldn't be in the mood for it. At all. In the slightest. Asked very nicely if I could wait until today. Don't think he was expecting all this."

Johnson's head tilts slightly as he looks across judging her reaction, seeing the hurt on her face, something approaching shame, as she tries not to meet his eyes.

"No, I don't know what happened between you last night, he wouldn't say, but I'm guessing the pair of you had a blowout?"

* * *

His use of that nickname for her almost lifts her spirits for an instant, but it is short-lived. His account of last night confuses her. Velir asked him to wait until today. Was it truly to save Kylah's feelings? Or... was it because he suspected she would discard her robe again and fling herself upon Johnson?[/i] Kylah is too tired to dissemble, and something about Andy Johnson makes it feel unnecessary to try. He seems to lack much of a filter and this invites similar openness.

"It was a disaster," she says flatly. "He and I have not known each other long, and our... connection... is very new. Things have not progressed very far." She avoids Johnson's gaze in the darkened room, knowing he can guess what she means. "But though our connection was new, I cared--care--for him a great deal. He possesses so much that I admire. He is moral, compassionate, brave, respectful, and... forthright."

Perhaps too forthright, her traitorous mind thinks, considering all he has said to her today. Kylah's head bows, but something stubborn--some need to hold on to her feelings--will not let her chastise Velir. From his point of view she is a deceitful harlot; why would he treat her any differently? "He has a strong code of ethics, and does his best to live up to them," she murmurs. "That is rare, in my experience. I have never met such a good man."

And yet this good man hurt her so deeply today, not just when he left her on the planet, but even after she was attacked. She cannot reconcile the Velir Rangin who is so kind with the way he spoke to her.

But he still saved my life. That is proof he is remarkable: helping me, after I disappointed him so... Having redeemed Velir in her mind, she hurries on. "I know he deserves better than I can give him. I am a very... a very private person, and I do not open up to others easily. I cannot match his candor. And he mistrusts me because of it." Kylah's gaze reluctantly meets Johnson's for as long as she can bear. "Yesterday, when you and Mr. Graham were visiting me, he was very displeased. Seeing the two of you, while I was in nothing but my robe--it made him suspicious. Although I cannot imagine what he thinks I would do with both of you."

Kylah shakes her head in shame. "And when I--when I tried to let him know that he is the only man in my life... when I tried to--to show him..." She flushes at the memory and at the words spilling from her lips to this man she barely knows. "He just--rejected me. As if touching me had stained him."

She blots her eyes with the flat bedsheet, no longer able to look at Johnson. "Today was even worse. When we were down on the planet, I left him for a--for an errand--and he accused me of seeking out another man to... to replace him, for what he did not do last night." The thought is just as revolting as it was when he first brought it up, and her next words run on in a flood.

"I cannot do anything right, I cannot live up to what he wants of me. Even after the attack, when I woke up here, in sickbay, he... he made it clear I am beyond hope. Earlier he said he wishes he had never met me. He assisted in finding me, but once he saw me back on the ship, everything got worse. Somehow he and Mr. Graham ended up in a confrontation, and before Velir was released, he ended everything by--by basically telling T'Var she was wasting her time. That I was too broken to fix." Kylah stares bleakly at her communicator. "Perhaps he wishes he had not helped find me after all. Perhaps it would have been better if he had not."

* * *

"Bullshit!" Johnson's reply cuts across the room. Then suddenly realising what he just said, he starts up, looks round nervously and then subsides back into the chair looking slightly relieved. "Sorry about that, but...no actually, I'm not sorry, that's bullshit. Better off being not found at all, just because he doesn't like you?" Johnson stops and his brows furrow as he thinks back to their first meeting. "Oh crumbs, you really are that naive."

He draws in a deep breath before moving forward to the edge of the chair and exhaling, hands now clasped in front of him resting on his knees. "Ok, no-one, and I mean no-one, is worth getting yourself into this kind of situation. You can't live up to his ideals? Don't. He wants some perfect porcelain pretty to be just like him? Let him find some other doll. It ain't worth sticking your life on hold just to please him, 'specially if its all one way. And if he doesn't want to accept the kind of gift I think you're offering, he's the one with problems."

"I'd say just be you, but I'm not sure you even know who you is." Johnson leans back into the chair but still keeps his gaze fixed on Kylah. "Anyway, he needs to accept you for you. If you're private, then he needs to get off your case about it...as long as you haven't given him a reason to think he can't trust you. That's a relationship killer right there. On both sides thinking about it. But if you're honest, and he wont accept it, he isn't worth it."

"Now, you might consider what I'm saying is not true for you, that you do feel bad about him, how it's your fault. And how whatever you had is gone. And you don't understand it. You'd be amazed how often I've heard it in the mess. What I mean is you're not alone, there are people around who are friendly, apparently I'm included, and not everyone is a troglodyte on the Yorktown, unlike your two not-very-gentlemanly callers from last night. Are you seriously telling me they go into a fight over you?"

Collins waits for Rangin to sit and appear settled. "I wanted to apologize," she tells him "I don't know if it was the situation, or because I was way off base, But I didn't mean to upset you earlier." With her fork she moves some of the pasta around before spearing a good bite. "But I don't think I was off base." She brings the forkful of food to her mouth and begins to chew, indicating it's his turn to say something.

"Ma'am, if you don't think you did anything wrong, why are you apologising?" Rangin replies quietly, "I suppose this means you fully agree with Ens. Graham's comments on the restrictions to my movements."

He takes a small mouthful of the food, eating it quickly before continuing. "and yes, you did hurt my feelings earlier."

"What? No!" Collins tries to parse Rangin's comments "The comment about supervised visits was to placate Graham! To mollify him. I know you'd never hurt Kylah. Not intentionally, anyway." Do I know that? Collins shrugs internally and continues. "And I am talking about during Lunnd's interview. I'm sorry I upset you with my comment about you being in love with Kylah. But I still say you are, and it's because you got upset that I still think I'm right about that."

Rangin neatly places his cutlery on the plate, ignoring any looks that the pair of them might be getting from around. He rests his elbows on the table, hands clasped together and rests his chin on it, looking straight across at Collins.

"Mollify. Placate. I'm sorry ma'am, I thought I was talking to his superior officer, not his junior." The words come sadly out as if somehow Rangin feels pity for her not knowing what role she should be playing.

"As for Ensign Kylah, I certainly care for her, as I would any other shipmate. But in love with her? No, no I am not." A crooked smile forms on Rangin's lips. "Besides even if I am, and as you saw yourself, she certainly seems to prefer Ens. Graham and his tender ministrations. After all she called out to him on waking, not me. Or did you miss that part?"

"I already know you don't like Graham," Collins feels herself getting a little defensive, "and I'm sure you didn't like Detective Lunnd. Is it all law enforcement you dislike? Because I'm getting you don't like me very much either." She, too, places her cutlery on the table, but she puts her hands in her lap to hide the fists she is now making. "And Kylah, well, I knew on OC3 she had eyes for someone in the crew, and in Sick Bay it was obvious, to me anyway, that someone is you. She watched your every move with such intensity. And she was completely devastated by your parting shot. If she didn't have feelings for you, your words would not have cut her so deeply."

Maybe I am projecting a little but this is just like every high school romance ever, she thinks, they're not going to get together unless one of them admits how they feel.

"Have either of you ever just told the other how you feel? I doubt it. She's too shy and you're too proud. Yeah, I know you said you're not in love with her, but I think you're in denial, that's you're hurting because of what happened between you two on Anubis. And really, could you have been that hurt if you didn't love her? That's an awful lot of negative emotions aimed at someone who's merely a shipmate."

"Au contraire, ma'am, when I was on board the Lexington, some of my best friends were in Security. I have absolutely no problems with those who are there to act and uphold the law, especially those who will apply it more rigourously to themselves than to others. Mr. Graham has shown himself to be conspicuously absent from that category." Rangin smiles politely across at the pensive face opposite him. "I have no problems with your good self. Indeed I think you could make a fine officer, otherwise I would not have made that offer on OCIII."

Rangin reaches down and picks up his knife and fork, moves the plate round slightly and begins to cut away again. "By the way, did you ever consider that the current friction between Ens. Kylah and I is precisely because we did find out how the other feels about each other." He takes a mouthful and thoughtfully chews it before swallowing. "Of course, I care about her, a great deal in fact. How could I not after everything she has been through. But no, her actions have spoken louder than she ever did. Certainly at the moment, she is ill and confused, so I wouldn't put much store in it. Besides, even if there was I cannot do anything about it. After all, I've been forbidden from seeing her without supervision. Your orders, I believe."

Collins has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She takes out her communicator. "Collins to Doctor T'Var. The restrictions on Ensign Rangin's visits has been lifted. He may visit Ensign Kylah without supervision." She closes her communicator and looks at Rangin. "She thinks you hate her. Of course she's going to look to someone else for comfort. Graham is just the first person she saw." She probably wouldn't want to be comforted by me anyway, after OC3, even though I did apologize. Why am I always the one to apologize? Why doesn't anyone apologize to me? Stop it! Focus! This isn't about me.

Rangin looks back up at Lt. Collins and shakes his head, an amused smile flickering across his lips. Impulsive to a fault. He sighs wistfully as he lowers the knife and fork. "Ma'am, if Dr T'Var was on the same shift as us, she is probably not on duty. She could be in the middle of anything at this moment in time. Also, I believe you will find that Mr Graham will not be so happy to hear the news." Rangin inclines his head to Collins in acknowledgement. "However the thought, no matter how impulsive it was, is appreciated. Thank you"

He goes back to his meal, the second part of Collins comment left unanswered. Ens. Kylah seek comfort in someone else's arms, Rangin is sure Collins does not know how accurate she is. But in the name of keeping the tone polite, he says nothing and keeps his face still.

Collins smiles when Rangin thanks her. Okay. I did something right. She notices the shift in his body language when she talks about Kylah. Subject closed. For now. No, it's not. "If she wants to talk to you, tell you how she feels about you, would you listen?"

Graham's gratified to be able to spend some tender moments with large weights.

I see a large ribeye, washed down with a double whisky in my future, he thinks.

Finishing his last set, he frowns. It will bug you if you don't at least look in no Kylah, won't it? He shakes his head. No real purpose to it...but anybody who doesn't understand that you want to do it anyway has never had a sick kid or a wounded colleague.

He doesn't bother to change, instead grabbing a towel to dry off on the way to Sickbay, which is where he'll head from the gym unless interrupted on his way.

Kylah winces at Johnson's sharp tone, cursing and sudden ire--and at his calling her naïve. When he stands up she cannot help draw back as if expecting a blow. She tries to interrupt, both to apologize for upsetting him and to defend Velir, but Johnson's impassioned words give her pause. As difficult as it is to hear, she listens to him carefully. But when he suggests that Graham and Velir were fighting over her, she cannot remain silent.

"No, no, the fight was nothing like that! I do not really know what started it. I was half-asleep, and something woke me... Velir--Mr. Rangin was near me, I remember that, and then Mr. Graham was suddenly pulling him back, and Lt. Collins ordered Mr. Graham away."

She gnaws at a thumbnail, unable to tell the difference between actual memories, the exaggerated echoes of the others' heightened emotions, and any hallucinations caused by medications. "Dr. T'Var was there, but she did not say much that I recall. All I know is that Mr. Graham seemed to think Mr. Rangin was--is--a threat to me. I do not understand why. How could anyone could blame a man like him?"

After a moment of reflection, she looks up at Johnson pleadingly. "You seem angry with me," she says, her hands tightening into fists under the covers. "I am sorry, I know I am frustrating--I frustrate myself. I seem incapable of learning from my mistakes. But I appreciate your offer of friendship, if you mean it. Despite how we began, I do feel comfortable with you."

Shy, she hurries on. "But what you say about Mr. Rangin... it does not feel right. He wishes I were a better person, as do I. I want to be whatever he wishes me to be. I would be greatly improved by it. He asks nothing of me that he does not ask of himself. He has been truthful with me about what little he has told me of his past. I respect his privacy, so I do not wish to push.

"But in truth," she must admit, "his lack of trust in me is understandable. I have kept things from him. Not out of maliciousness, but because I am not ready to tell him. I am not ready to tell anyone. It is too soon. It is more than I can process myself, let alone share with others."

Kylah looks searchingly at Johnson. "When must people share everything with each other, in a relationship? I have no experience at such things, I have never been with--" Her face burns and she casts her gaze downward from Johnson's piercing blue eyes. "I have never had a relationship before. Not that I have one now," she adds with candid bitterness. "What about you? Do you tell everything to your..." She struggles for a word. "Partner?"

* * *

Johnson listens to Kylah, concerned by what she says, and scratches the side of his head as she continues. From the sounds of it, this is not a relationship off to a good start. Despite wanting to make a joke about how all the ladies feel comfortable with him, it's not the time or place.

"Yeah, that's an honest offer of friendship right there. Okay, there are plenty of things I haven't told my...er...partners, current or otherwise, but it's based on trust. They trusted me that anything private wouldn't affect them. Now I tend to be a lot more open, so most of my past comes out pretty quickly, but I know there are several people, plenty on this ship, who have secrets they don't really want to tell anyone. It really does vary from person to person. And no, if you want to keep something hidden, that's your choice."

Johnson grits his teeth for the next part, "Hey, I'm not angry or frustrated with you, surprised perhaps, bit concerned as well. Look, setting yourself up to be someone else's ideal is a really bad way to have a relationship. You need to be a better person because you want it, not because you think it will impress some other guy. Kylah, you're not having a relationship, you're crushing on him. You're setting yourself up to be disappointed by trying to be some ideal that you think he wants. Actually, I'm not even sure you know what he wants."

Leaning forward again, "Look, that line, asking nothing of you he wouldn't ask of himself? It's crap. That's like asking all my exes to be excellent cooks or me knowing how to strip down and repair a shuttle. We're all different and we ask different things of different people. My advice is this: Work out who you are first. Go out, make some new friends, enjoy yourself, learn to be you, then decide if Ens. Rangin is the right person for you."

* * *

Swallowing, Kylah considers Johnson's advice. "Make some new friends," she echoes softly. "That is like asking me to repair a shuttle." She shakes her head, trying to digest every painful thing he is telling her, and her throat feels strangled and tight.

Does she know what Velir wants? She thought she did. He has always seemed to want a partner, not a subservient creature; someone who is as ethical and strong as he is. The sad truth is that if she thought he were satisfied with someone like Kylah, she would not look up to him so much.

She thought she could try to live up to his standards. But that was before OCIII.

Hurriedly she continues. "You say this is just a crush. I do not know. I thought it was more, but maybe I have been fooling myself. You are right, I am naïve in many ways. I tried to remain that way, tried to protect myself and my... my innocence. But that did not keep me safer; remaining on my high shelf only made the inevitable fall worse. Much, much worse."

Finding it hard to speak, she reaches for her glass of water and takes a few shallow sips. Then she cradles it in both hands, staring down. "Even if I am no longer a child, perhaps what I feel for Velir is just some girlish fantasy. But if love is stronger than this, I do not know if I will ever be ready for it. It hurts so."

She forces herself to lift her chin and face him. "I will think about all you have said, and will try to find out who I am." She feels insincere. Kylah already knows what she is, and does not like it--and clearly others agree, or she would not make so many enemies. She changes the subject. "I must not keep you, I know you need your rest after a long day. Thank you for all this. Your patience, your advice, your..." She glances at the plate of Bellaque. "Your generosity."

* * *

"That's alright, it's a pleasure. And no looking so sad, I'm sure it's against Doctor's orders. Yeah, love's a funny thing, you never know when it might hit." Johnson blushes slightly thinking about it and sighs, "If it is love, it'll survive and if Velir is the right one for you, don't ruin it now." And I might want to have a word with him about a few little details he might have missed.

"One last thing, falling from a high shelf doesn't have to be so bad. Stay as you are and you'll probably shatter and frankly that would be a waste of a good ensign. Don't be a pretty expensive jar, they always wind up chipped and glued back together again. Try being a ball and bounce back up there. Or alternatively, if Ens. Rangin won't, find someone else to catch you. Hell, if you get really desperate, I'll do it." He realizes the implication of his words and races on: "No, I don't mean that, I mean help find some new friends."

* * *

Kylah's mouth parts at his suggestion. Find someone else? Impossible. If she was wrong about Velir, how can she trust anyone else who might 'catch her'? Her life consists of a veritable parade of greedy men with ulterior motives grabbing at her, with precious few exceptions.

Still, Johnson's other words... There is wisdom in them, she knows. There is nothing she longs for more than the ability to recover quickly from her failures. Right now, such resilience seems beyond her. She is so terribly tired.

* * *

Johnson stands up and stretches slightly, the day beginning to catch up with him, but the night still young. "However, I'd suggest having a word with Lt. Thalen, find out what's on at the Lyceum, go and take part with some people who share an interest, whether that's games, arts, music whatever. Most people are fine, you just seem to have a habit of picking the idiots." Johnson gestures at himself. "Starting with yours truly. Thinking about it, I'm running a foodie evening soon if you're interested. Get to sample lots of interesting tastes with other people. Think about it."

Heading across to the door, he stops just before it and turns back to the figure in the bed. "One last thing, an open offer: I'll have hot chocolate waiting, if you ever need to talk, for fun or if you have something you want to get off your chest... which, frankly, seems overwhelming, and you probably do need someone to help handle it--" Johnson's mouth hangs open slightly and he groans. "I don't believe I just said that. I meant if the problems seem overwhelming, not your... oh never mind."

* * *

She does not comment on his innuendo, which is so second-nature that he seems unable to help himself. By now, after all she has been through, Kylah realizes that mere innuendo from a good-natured man like Andy Johnson is truly harmless.

But that 'habit of picking idiots' stings, it is so close to her own earlier thoughts. She is also surprised by Johnson's self-deprecation--or his playful chiding of her own previous attitude toward him, she cannot tell which it is. "First, Mr. Johnson, you are not an idiot," she murmurs. "I misjudged you when we first met, and I am sorry for that.

"I will consider the options you mention, including the... 'foodie' evening." Whatever that is. But he has proven himself a remarkable cook, so anything he recommends regarding food is probably sound. "And I will consider your advice, too," she adds softly, finally addressing his comment about someone else catching her.

Except she knows she cannot give her heart to anyone right now. She has already given it away: whether as a one-sided childish fantasy or the beginnings of love, her heart still belongs to Velir. He holds it now, caged and crushed. She does not know how to release it to someone else who will treat it more tenderly.

Still, she knows what Johnson wants her to say. "Perhaps you are right. Maybe there are other men who are better suited to me. Maybe I will find one."

* * *

"That's the spirit," Johnson says affably, and he flashes her one more smile, hoping to see her return it, and mean it, just once. He has his own plans to enjoy the evening, and Kylah seems so defeated; he isn't sure he'll fully shake free of the sight of her even while engaged in pleasurable pursuits. "Good night, Kylie."

* * *

"Good night," she says while Johnson's tall figure departs the room. After watching the door close behind him, she re-covers the Bellaque dish so that it will remain somewhat fresh for tomorrow, then settles back in the bed, looking up at the plate.

How surreal to end this ghastly day with such kindness. Kylah closes her eyes and tries to focus on this. But as hard as she tries, she cannot ignore the flashes of masked men with clubs, the remnants of her shattered zither, and Velir's angry eyes as cold and lifeless as a distant moon.

Shivering beneath her covers, Kylah wishes she were not so very alone.

"Ma'am, perhaps I didn't make myself clear, but what part of 'the current friction between Ens. Kylah and I is because we did find out how we feel about each other' did you fail to understand? I understand you are feeling persistant, but it is heading towards the maxim that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result."

Rangin cannot help but smile at the irony of the statement, indeed here he was trying not to repeat the same mistake and expect it to be different this time around.

"Besides, it would not surprise me if Ens. Kylah is feeling a little regret over what occurred today, through no fault of her own. So anything said now would, no, should be held in the heat of those moments. Perhaps wait awhile until she has recovered and is of a calmer mind. What do you think?"

Rangin continues to tuck into the remains of his meal, which is now nearly finished.

"Actually," Collins agrees, "that's an excellent idea. Time heals all wounds." She watches him eat and realizes, except for that one bite, she hasn't touched her dinner. She raises her water glass to him, then enjoys her own meal.

Kylah's communicator beeps and she sees a text: Found a Vulcan lute for you to borrow, if you're still interested. No such Risian instruments aboard, and no other Elasian ones, I'm sorry to say. See you in the morning. Sleep well! THALEN.

Giya acknowledged Rangin's grimace with a smile and returned to her meal.

Dr. T'Var has not responded yet to Collins's message about Rangin's access to Sickbay.

Graham arrives in Sickbay; the duty nurse tells him that visiting hours end in 30 minutes.

It is now 1800 hours on the dot.

Collins stands and picks up her tray. "Thanks for the lovely conversation," she says to Rangin, with a bit of a laugh and a smile. "Have a good evening." She buses her tray, steps outside the mess, and stretches. Hmmm, maybe some yoga this evening. On her way to the gym she stops by Sick Bay to let the duty nurse know about the restriction lift. After she changes in the locker room, she messages Cooper "Give me a buzz when you're finished with whatever it is you're doing, and then come on by. Ensign Kylah is staying in Sick Bay tonight. I'll fill you in later."

The duty nurse acknowledges the change.

Cooper replies, Just finishing. Should be on my way soon.

Jeremi gets Ben's reply while she's in a particularly awkward pose, and falls over on her side when her communicator beeps. She then rushes to change and hurries back to her quarters. I guess it's cardio tonight after all, she thinks happily.

Graham sees--what's his name? Johnson. The comedian--leaving Kylah's room. Telling her a few jokes? He's not sure that's the best therapy at the moment, on the other hand, maybe it is.... He recalls hearing about entertainment-as-a-treatment that had great results helping people recovery from trauma.

"Hey," he says, quietly but enough to try to get Johnson's attention before he leaves. "How is she?" he asks, gesturing toward Kylah's room in between toweling off some residual sweat from his forehead.

Rangin finishes his meal and watches Collins leave the mess hall. Shaking his head as to why she is so cheerful, he is not sure he understands what has gotten into her.

He dumps his tray and if Giya and Chris are still around, he will chat to them. Otherwise he will head back to the lab to do a little more light reading.

Cooper rings Collins's doorchime just a minute or so after she gets there. "Anyone home?" he calls.

Ens. Giya, the female Deltan chemist, and Ens. Chris Johnson, the sensor specialist, are both still dining. They greet Rangin. "You didn't look too pleased to be breaking bread with that redshirt," Johnson says. "Who is she?"

Rangin is pleased to sit down with the two scientists more in hope of having a more stimulating and intellectual conversation that with Collins.

"That particular redshirt is Lt. JG. Collins, current Assistant Chief of Security. She survivable." Rangin grins in reply. "She's also a young and over her head, with some impulse control issues, I think. She'll either do well if she holds it together, or really crash and burn."

Rangin shakes his head slightly. "Anyway, enough about Security, What's happening in Science. You'll both be amused to know I got absolutely no chance to study at any of the spores on OCIII while I was there, other than a brief look at them, mainly thanks to Security. Actually Chris, I wanted to have a word with you anyway. Roble has me looking at this new prototype sensor, the one we just picked up from Anubis, and its effects on biosensors. I'd love to get your opinions and thoughts on some of it..." Rangin leaves the sentences unfinished for a moment knowing that like any scientists the chance to play with something new is always welcome "...if you're not too busy of course. After all, you are the expert."

Having headed out of Kylah's room, Johnson is on the verge of calling T'Var who doesn't appear to be around Sickbay, when he is approached by Ens. Graham. "Evening sir, who Ens. Kylah? 'Bout as well as you could expect really. I just popped in to see how she's doing, which isn't great, and to see if she liked the gift, which she did."

Johnson watches Graham, who looks like he just decided to go beat up some other poor sucker. "Your not going to go back in there and start fighting again, are you sir? I really don't think that would help."

Collins opens her door and greets Cooper with a bear hug and a deep kiss. When they come up for air, she takes his hand and brings him to sit on the bed with her. "Hi Honey. How was your day?" she asks him.

Ens. Johnson says, "Sure, I'll take a look, but my specialty is tactical sensors. You're the shipboard authority on biosensors, from all I've heard."

Cooper grins and gives Collins a squeeze. "Much better, now. This project is taking a lot longer than I thought it would. Still not done yet."

Graham shakes his head slightly. "You don't have to call me sir," he replies, starting to point to his uniform and then realizing he's wearing workout clothes. He shrugs and sighs. "I don't have a talent like yours, but, no, I wasn't planning on fighting anybody, uh...outfit notwithstanding." He pauses, looking at the door to Kylah's room and wondering whether checking on her would do more harm than good. "What gift?" he asks, as that bit of Johnson's response registers.

"Are you allowed to talk about it?" Jeremi asks Ben "Is it interesting or mundane?" As they talk, Collins takes off her tunic to reveal a tank top which she untucks from her pants.

"What kind of gift d'you think? I'm a cook, I whipped up her favourite dish." Johnson wonders if Graham has taken one too many hits to the head. "She's had a rough couple of days so it's the least I could do. I owed her one anyway. It would have been last night but her friend didn't think she'd be interested. "

Johnson studies the older man in front of him. "So what's your reason for calling? I mean there were two of you last night outside her door and today...well...fisticuffs from what I 'eard."

Cook? I thought he was a comedian...

Graham shakes his head slightly. "It wasn't 'fisticuffs.' At the time I thought Mr. Rangin was a threat..." He corrects himself. "A physical threat to her. So I did what they pay me to do."

"As to now...I don't know." He frowns slightly. "One last check before lights out seemed like the right thing to do."

"Just a new shuttle maintenance advisory from Starfleet," Collins says, "making sure we're in compliance." He grins. "Are we getting undressed now?"

"If you like," Collins says in a sultry voice. "I was just getting comfortable is all. I had a busy afternoon." She then tells Cooper about what happened on Anubis after shore leave ended, and about the investigation and her small part in it. She praises Rangin, and speaks sympathetically about Kylah. She leaves out the bit about Graham restraining Rangin, because that's not pertinent to the tale.

Cooper kicks off his boots. "Comfort is good." He has several questions about Anubis and the investigation, but seems a little tired.

Collins kicks her boots off as well, then lies back and opens her arms, inviting Cooper to lie next to her.

"Who me?" says Rangin in mock surprise, "I don't know where you heard such things. I may have a passing knowledge, but I'd hardly describe myself as an expert. Just someone who has used them an awful lot." Rangin smiles at the two scientists, relaxing after the day's events. "Besides, a sensor is a sensor and any help would be appreciated. Why should I get all the fun of trying to work out why this prototype disrupts other sensors ability to read biosigns?"

Rangin sits back, "It can wait until morning, so how are the pair of you, what's news onboard?"

"You're kidding, Ens. Rangin, he's titchy, no bigger than she is?" Johnson is slightly incredulous at Graham's statement. "You sure? I mean the night before he seemed all worried about her. I mean I know they had a fight, but even so, I was going to drop off Kylah's favourite dish to her but he suggested I put it off a night off out concern for her. Oh yeah, that was because I made his favourite dish at Kylah's request and dropped it off to him earlier on. Crazy pair, I wonder if he realises he has her wrapped round his little finger. Ah, you didn't hear that from me."

Johnson nods back towards the door. "Seriously, you're not jealous are you, I mean you were there last night and saw her first. You didn't ruin it for them? I mean the pair of them were as miserable as anything afterwards."

Cooper lies down, takes Collins into his arms, and one thing leads to another....

Giya says, "Not much. The Captain offered shore leave to Beta watchstanders, since it looks like we're going to be here for at least another few hours because of the investigation into the attack on Kylah. We'll be beaming down soon."

"Well I hope you have more fun down there than I did. Enjoy it while you can." Rangin does hope they enjoy the parts of it he didn't get to see, "I'll see you in the morning, I've got a sensor to figure out." He rises from the table leaving Giya and Chris behind and then heads off to the Science lab to see if he can put down all those thoughts he had before the interrogation took place with Thoth's finest.

While awaiting Johnson in the Mess Hall, T'Var notices the message from Collins and responds.

"If Ens. Kylah agrees to visits from Mr. Rangin, that would be fine," T'Var says. "However, if she does not wish to see him, he will not be allowed access to her."

Graham scowls at the phrase "wrapped around his little finger."

"Jealous?" he replies quietly. "No, my, ah,...concern for her...isn't like that. But I'd recommend taking Mr. Rangin's expressions of concern for her well-being with a grain of salt in the future, though, Chef." He sighs again. "Well if I'm going to check in on her I'd better get it down." He pauses. "I'm glad to hear you made something she liked for her...without a, ah hidden agenda. She could use more of that."

The beep of Collins' communicator goes completely ignored for the nonce.

By the time she has left the shower and is ready for bed, Nia is back to feeling lightheaded. She pulls her respirator unit over to her bunk, where she gratefully sits down. Before she dons the mask that will provide her with the equivalent of the Sidonian breathable atmosphere, she retrieves Graham's present from the gift bag, cradling it carefully with both hands. Her gentle smile broadens when she shakes the snowglobe and sets it on her nightstand. Now, pulling the mask over her face, she lies down, takes deep, revitalizing breaths, and watches the flakes drift around the tiny cabin and figures amid the water.

Such a considerate gift. Most men would just buy flowers, candy, perfume or--if they're feeling extravagant--jewelry. This took some actual thought. The specificity of the miniature scene inside the globe has to be pure coincidence, of course, but Graham knows she's from a desert planet, discovered she loves water, and deduced--correctly--that snow is a rarity for her.

Thoughtful and a helluva kisser, Nia thinks drowsily, smiling again. Not a bad combo. She orders the lights off, makes sure her breathing mask is comfortable, and settles in for what she hopes will be an enjoyable night's sleep.

A vast stretch of sere land, the dirt rust-colored and burning beneath her feet, lies before her. She is back on Sidonia, somewhere in a valley that used to contain water, which makes the hot wind taste of salt and minerals when Nia forgets to shield her mouth.

Ahead, something appears to be covered with a white blanket. Nia moves in that direction, and when she gets closer she notices dark curling hair whipped by the wind, although the rest of the body is unseen. Must be Ensign Kylah--Nia has found her, she'll have to report this to the rest of the crew.

She runs now until she is next to the young woman lying on the ground. Her face is buried beneath the blanket, and Nia gently reaches out to see how badly Kylah's been hurt. To her shock, the white material is freezing cold and melts beneath her touch. Massive snowflakes are now falling, which is unheard of on Sidonia, but Nia turns her face up to the sky and feels the frigid flakes landing gently on her head.

Impossible or not, it can't be good for Kylah to be buried--shrouded--by all this snow. Nia bends down and digs away at the mound until she's able to see the girl's face and shoulders. But it isn't Kylah. The age is just about right, but Kylah's hair isn't this curly, her skin isn't this dark. And when the girl opens her eyes, a dark green gaze settles on Nia.

Nia shudders and tries to take hold of the young woman's shoulders. "I found you," she says, her voice almost carried away by the wind. "You're safe now."

The girl shakes her head. "Since when do you care? You sent me here in the first place."

"I had no choice," Nia insists, and keeps pulling. But despite her own strength and effort, the girl doesn't budge. The snow begins to melt and, horrified, Nia must watch as the young woman begins to dry out and crack like the former lake bed beneath Nia's feet. Soon one final gust of wind reveals that she is nothing but dust, dissipating and vanishing in the hot desert air. Nia cries out but there's nothing she can do.

Then a hand clasps Nia's shoulder. She turns: it's Booker Graham. Her instinct is to go to him for comfort, but instead he holds a phaser on her. "Dereliction of duty," he says. "She was your responsibility. It happened on your watch. You know the punishment." Nia starts to back away but Graham blasts the phaser too quickly. She is stunned, her lungs are paralyzed. She cannot breathe. All Graham does is watch as she falls to the ground, suffocating on the burning hot soil and the few particles of dust that were once a young woman.

Nia's eyes pop open to the sound of her own gasps. Now awake, she realizes she has shifted enough in her sleep for the breathing mask to fall from her nose. At once she clasps the plastic and shoves it back into its proper place, inhaling deeply and as slowly as she can to avoid hyperventilation.

When Nia has recovered herself, she closes her eyes, pulls the twisted covers back up over her body, and does her best to relax once again.

Hidden agenda? Johnson leaves SickBay wondering what on earth Graham is on about. Was he suggesting Ens. Rangin had a hidden agenda when it came to Ens. Kylah? He isn't sure what is running through Graham's head, but it didn't seem pretty. Besides, he'd be there to talk to any of them afterwards should it come to it. Yeah, he really did need to have a word with Ens. Rangin at some point. Perhaps find out just what is going on

Johnson shrugs as he calls T'Var to meet up for the game of chess and her ongoing battle to improve and beat Vargas. At least his night wasn't so complicated.

Rangin finishes off his second coffee in the Science lab since he returned from the Mess Hall. Feeling a slight buzz as the caffeine has well and truly kicked in as he pores over the data in front of him, he notices the little alarm going off in the silence. Blinking and looking around, his colleagues are absent, a few experiments ticking over in their place. Rangin smiles, stretches and then hastily covers his mouth as a yawn catches him unawares. Perhaps he should consider returning to his quarters to get some well needed sleep and be fresh for the morning.

As he downloads some data to a pad, his mind ticks over with possibilities and approaches. He retrieves his communicator to send some questions and details to Chris and then groans in disbelief as it shows the missed call from Lt. Onn earlier. He really should have answered it earlier, even before he had gone for dinner, but he had been so caught up in this new experiment, he had plain forgot.

Rangin replays back the message listening to it carefully, no-one else around to hear the words or his mumbling comments under his breath. An advocate, well she was certainly right about that one. Her comment about Security making her feel nervous raises a smile, they did the same for him, especially Graham who, it seems, had decided to hold him responsible. As he thought back over the session, he was glad that Roble had been there, it seemed to have stopped Lunnd in his tracks, just having someone else around who wasn't going to be cowed by Security.

"Next Message...Ensign Kylah". Rangin's attention is snapped out of his reverie as the next message starts to play and the sound of Kylah's voice, tremulous and tired, echoes out. "I just learned--I just heard--", Rangin's palm slams down on the communicator halting the message in its tracks, leaving him shaking. He had forgotten, Kylah had tried to contact him earlier. Learned...heard what that he is a suspect, that Security has dropped the restrictions. No, this was several hours ago, perhaps that the restrictions were in place and she was glad for them.

It didn't matter, he isn't going to be talking to her again any time soon if he could possibly help it. She rejects him, so be it.

Rangin quickly answers Lt. Onn's message with a brief text, given the time she would probably be asleep like he should be, thanking her for her concern and that in any future meetings he is certainly having an advocate present given how it went.

He goes to delete Kylah's message, not wanting to hear the rest of it, but stops. What ever she had to say is important, whether its a confirmation of her rejection of him or not. But, he cannot discard it without hearing the rest of what she has to say, no matter how painful. It's just that he can't bear to hear it now, not when the wounds across his heart are so fresh. Some other time, maybe. He saves the message, knowing the Pandora's box he has stowed ready to be opened.

Picking up the pad with the final pieces of work on it, he heads for bed and hopefully a dreamless sleep.

Just outside Kylah's room Graham's hand hovers over the door control. What he'd like to do is look in and confirm she's sleeping peacefully. For your benefit or hers, Booker? he wonders. And what if she is, and you waker her up? She may, like Nia said, look sixteen lying in the bed but you can't rub her head like Lizzy's and singe her out-of-tune lullabies...

Graham places a hand against the door--without opening it, and whispers "sleep tight." Then he turns and leaves Sickbay to head back to his room and (he hopes) a deep sleep.

The night passes, so far as you know, without incident. The Yorktown remains in synchronous orbit over the city of Thoth.

The next morning, Collins sleepily disentangles herself from a nude Cooper when her communicator beeps. It is Det. Lunnd, who says, "We've been separately interrogating Lez Trovon and his friend, Velig Honul, who you nabbed. Our scans show Honul's shoes have trace amounts of Elasian crystal, we think from the smashed-up zither. They spoke to counsel overnight, and they each want to cut a deal. I think they're both worried that the other is going to turn state's evidence. Also, FYI, as I thought, it looks like the prosecutor may drop charges against Laran Sloon AKA Bob Bobbins."

When she wakes, Dr. T'Var finds a text from the CMO: Fujishiro's condition deteriorated overnight, I'm sorry to say. Please come to Sickbay instead of the Bridge when you begin your watch. I'll tell the Captain. VILLA.

Kylah wakes in her Sickbay room feeling much better. Rangin rises rested and ready to start the day, while Graham is rudely awakened by Mahmoud's snoring in his nearby bunk.

It is now 0700. You are each to begin your next watch in an hour.

"Detective," Collins says between yawns, "Ensign Kylah said there were 3 men involved. Could you maybe get Trovon or Honul to cough up their accomplice as part of any deal? As for Sloon, I could have sworn he was involved somehow. But thank you for the update. I will bring Commander Vargas and Captain Singh up to speed." she pauses a moment, "Anything else at this point I need to know or to tell you?"

Kylah sits up, disoriented for a few moments before she regains her memory of where she is and why she is here.

Carefully she swings her legs over the bed, intending to get up, then stops short. She has nothing to wear. Not even shoes. Merely the civilian dress in her canvas bag, and besides the fact that the pale peach silk is now dirty--something she could tolerate, if only on the short trip back to her quarters to shower and dress properly--but the dress is now covered in dust and larger pieces of sharp, glittering shards of crystal.

Kylah looks around, hoping one of the nurses might have brought her a uniform. She would rather slip out and not see anyone, but she cannot do so in a hospital gown. Biting her lip in consternation, she clears her throat. "Excuse me?"

Falling silent, she now senses emotions around her. Someone--perhaps multiple people--consumed by mounting concern and distress. The medical staff must have an emergency of some kind. It cannot be her own case; physically she feels much less sore and battered. Even her bothersome left wrist was strong enough to push her up to her seated position, although it has not been 100% healed since she was bitten by the Slime Devil back on the Sakathian station.

The Sakathian station. Fujishiro. Kylah takes a deep breath and turns in the direction of the other private areas. Ignoring her bare feet, she slides from the bed and walks in the direction of the activity. She tentatively pushes her mind outward, forgetting how much she suffered yesterday when she tried to use her empathic abilities--or, for that matter, the horrible chaos she felt when she got too close to Mrs. Porr back on the station. Can she sense anything from her gravely injured colleague?

Lunnd says, "Yes, we'll be asking them about that, definitely. We'll want to have Ens. Kylah look at a criminal-suspect photo array soon, so we can confirm the identification of the third man."

Still asleep, Cooper snorts and rolls over.

Kylah only has vague psi impressions of other people around in Sickbay. She hears nothing amiss. A Rigellian orderly comes into her recovery room. "Good morning, ma'am!" he says. "May I get you anything? How about some breakfast?"

Kylah turns to the orderly, self-consciously pulling her gown closer to her. She flushes, embarrassed at having been caught eavesdropping on another patient. "Excuse me, I was just... looking for someone to help me..."

Focusing on the orderly's question, Kylah finds the possibility of avoiding the Mess--and all those curious pairs of eyes--too tempting to refuse. "Thank you, yes, I would like something, if it is not too much trouble. Perhaps something hot to drink, please? Cocoa?" She hesitates. "Do you know if am I to be released this morning? If so, I will need a uniform and..." Underclothes as well, but she is too embarrassed to ask about that. "And shoes, please. I am sorry, I do not know your name, Mr....?"

Rangin awakes feeling slightly muzzy and as he rolls over and finds the datapad is digging into his side from where it is lying on the bed. He realises he must have been reading it and dropped off to sleep mid sentence.

Checking his shift he looks to see if he is required on the bridge at all or, as is far more likely, to head for the cargo bay and the prototype sensor.

Once he knows what he is doing, Rangin briefly showers and heads for a full breakfast as it is he will be spending the entire day locked in a technological battle with the unknown bio-sensor issues.

"Okay," Collins tells Lunnd, "and thank you to you and your officers for everything. Enjoy your day, Detective. Collins out." She closes the communicator and puts it on the nightstand. She grabs her pillow and lightly hits Cooper in the back with it a few times. "Wakey, wakey, Ben-ben." she says musically. Then normally, "Watch in an hour, sweetie. Do you want to wash up here or in your own cabin? Because I'm going to take a shower, now."

T'Var rushes to Sickbay and finds Dr. Villa.

Half awake, Graham idly wonders what it would be like to wake up next to Nia, musings blasted into fragments by the photon-torpedo-explosion-like snoring of his roommate.

Well, probably not like this, he thinks, debating hurling a pillow or firing a phased on light stun at Mahmoud before simply getting up quietly instead.

He takes stock of the room and realizes the gift bag he took from Kylah's room in Sickbay is still sitting there. A gift for Rangin. What did she say? I so wanted him to have it, or something like that...

What the hell do I do with this? he wonders. "Smash it" and "beam it into space" come to mind, but he dismisses those as obviously inappropriate. Giving it back to Kylah would only create a reason for her to see Rangin again.

He sighs and grits his teeth. What he should do is obvious, even if it will leave him wanting a shower afterward. He quickly gets ready for duty and then asks the Comms officer on duty for Mr. Rangin's location.

The orderly bows a little and says, "Medical Orderly/2 Helisel, at your service. There's no order for your discharge yet, but the doctor should be with you shortly. If so, I'll be glad to bring you a uniform. In the meantime, one cocoa and one underwear, coming up. By the way, there's a call button on the bed display if you ever need help."

Rangin's daily orders are for him to continue his sensor module analysis. He may do that wherever he wishes.

Cooper grunts and rolls over. He opens one eye and smiles. "Want some company in the shower?"

Dr. Villa looks grim. She tells T'Var, "Her synaptic functions have deteriorated further and her breathing is slightly more labored this morning. Blood oxygenation is down 2.7% over the past three days." She sighs. "We've done everything we can. At this rate she may die within days, maybe hours."

The Communications duty officer on the Bridge tells Graham that Rangin is apparently in Mess Hall 3.

http://en.memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Rigellian

Collins considers Coopers offer, smiles at him, and makes a beckoning move with her head.

Kylah thanks Helisel, although her smile is somewhat frozen with mortification. How did he know I wanted underwear? I do not think I said that aloud. Did I? Are Rigellians telepathic?

She slides back on the bed, unnerved and also disappointed that she has not been given the go-ahead to leave. The sickbay is not a pleasant atmosphere, although everyone stationed here has been kind. But she feels a rising sense of dread that she cannot explain.

To occupy herself, she takes her communicator, hoping that there might be something for her from Velir. He must have received her message; even just a plain text in response would be a relief.

First, she is reminded of Thalen's message about the Vulcan lute. Kylah is embarrassed that she forgot to thank him--she must have dozed off before she had a chance. Quickly she types back: Thank you very much, sir. I will be grateful to have something to play, it is most generous of you--or whoever lent the instrument. I hope I will be able to return to duty this morning, but have not been discharged yet. She hesitates, looks over at the door, then adds: I believe the doctors are occupied with more urgent matters, but I am not sure. I promise I will report to you as soon as I am able.

Sending the message, she then searches to see if anything newer has arrived. And slowly closes her communicator when she realizes that... no. Velir has not replied to her at all.

Graham takes the gift bag and heads to Mess Hall 3 to find Rangin.

Rangin sits in Mess Hall 3, a large cooked breakfast in front of him, which is rapidly being devoured and datapad to one side constantly being flicked on as he looks at the brief notes he has assembled.

One he is finished here, he will be off to the cargo bay to see how the setup is continuing as well as to speak to with Ens. Zweller and find out more about the prototype sensor

Fully refreshed from her sleep and now ravenous, Nia walks through the Mess, having packed her tray heavily with a meal that probably looks more appropriate for someone the size of Rawlings. She eyes the tables for a place to sit. Her gaze gives a little hiccup when she spots Rangin, the subject of so much speculation yesterday. He appears to be busy stuffing his face and his mind simultaneously, working even through breakfast. Industrious little guy.

From the message he sent last night, it doesn't sound as if he'd had an advocate at the police interview. Which was a shame and, frankly, either bad judgment on his part or slimy behavior on the part of the Thoth detective. Then again, it's not some local cop's duty to make sure Rangin didn't say anything stupid. Someone on the crew should've been there to advise him.

Nia makes a mental note to talk to Vargas or even Singh about ensuring crew members are aware of protecting their rights, even when assisting law officers. All goes back to communication problems, she thinks.

Nia's sympathy toward Rangin only goes so far. The things Booker told her--his apparent certainty that Rangin's inflicted some kind of harm on Ensign Kylah--haunt the back of her mind. Still, she has no idea who's right or wrong, and this ambivalence doesn't preclude her being polite. So as she passes Rangin's table, she stops briefly. "Morning, Ensign," she says with a smile. "I'd sit down but clearly that datapad's the only company you want."

Cooper and Collins get in the shower together and start the day just right.

Dr. Giancarlo Bucci, a plump Italian man, enters Kylah's room with a cheery "Good morning!" After chatting a bit with her, he scans the young Communications officer and gives her a physical exam. Finally he says, "Good, very good. You've done well, Ensign. I'll discharge you now, if you wish, but I want you to let us know if you feel at all unwell over the next few days. All right? Any questions?"

"Thank you, doctor," Kylah says, a bit awkward at being examined by a man, and a human one at that. She should be used to it by now, but somehow her discomfort has gotten worse since joining the Yorktown and everything that has happened. "I believe Dr. Villa mentioned that I would need to have a biosensor to monitor my status a day after my release. Is that still the case?"

Rangin looks up from the datapad without a mouthful of food being steadily chewed as he recognises Lt Onn standing across the table. The chewing gets more vigorous as he hastens to finish the mouthful before speaking and he places a finger over his lips to stop them opening before finishing.

Once he is ready, he looks back up. "Ma'am, the chair is free, though I'm fairly certain I will be poor company at this moment. The datapad is just for the new prototype sensor we are assisting with."

Rangin nods briefly remembering the message sent yesterday, "Thank you once again for your message - your prescience of the situation - well I wish I had picked it up before I had attended the meeting instead of afterwards. Instead Lt. Cmdr Roble was only there for part of it instead of all. I don't believe I will make that mistake again, ma'am."

Rangin waits to see if Lt. Onn sits down and is sociable or if she is moving on to a different table.

"Breakfast?" Jeremi asks Ben as she gets dressed, "Because I don't know about you, but I am ravenous." She winks at him and smiles.

"That is unfortunate," T'Var replies. "Of course, medical miracles do happen. And we will do what we can to make her as comfortable as possible."

"Right you are," Dr. Bucci says, handing Kylah a small, flexible black plastic pad, about 10cm wide. "This is a new model we just got the specs for. It's waterproof and self-adhesive; just put it anywhere on your upper abdomen. If you remove it for bathing or any other reason, keep it within five meters of you. It'll provide continuous vital-sign readings to us here. Wear for at least a day, and I'll let you know if we need to extend the time. Anything else?"

The Rigellian orderly returns and leaves a neatly-folded uniform, boots, etc. at the foot of Kylah's bed.

"Starving," Cooper says as he finishes dressing, and takes Collins's hand.

Dr. Villa nods. "Yes, as we have all along. Please scan her yourself, check the latest data, and let me know if you have any other thoughts."

Graham arrives at the mess and immediately wishes he hadn't. Why of all people in the galaxy does Nia have to be talking to Rangin right at this freaking moment...?

Still he's resolved to do what needs to be done before his watch begins. A bit stiffly, he approaches the table. "Ni--Lieutenant, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" His jaw tightens and he takes and exhales a breath, then places the bag on the table and turns toward Rangin. "This will only take a moment."

In the mess, Collins gets a cheese omelet and some sausage links, a cinnamon danish, and a large coffee. She looks around for a table while Cooper selects his breakfast. She sees Rangin and Lt. Onn at a table and Graham talking to them. Uh oh. Better put this down now, just in case. she thinks as she puts her tray on the closest table. She sits in the chair with a direct line of site to the others and hopes Graham won't do anything to spoil her good mood. She waits until Cooper sits with her to start eating.

Kylah nods. "If you do not mind my asking, sir, how is Fujishiro? It must be difficult to handle such a case, when you know there is little that can be done. I know we are effectively just waiting for her body to just... give up. I had hoped that the spores on OCIII might have been worth a try, even if it was a long shot, but I suppose for whatever reason, that was decided against." She looks up at Bucci. "Is this something you have dealt with often? Deaths on board the ship?"

All Rangin's hopes for a good day, all his dreams of putting the past behind him, if only for a little while, end right there as Graham places the gift bag on the table. He doesn't miss the near mention of the officer's first name and his face darkens. Someone he thought would be at least neutral in the matter, probably isn't, especially if they are on first name terms. At this point, Lt. Onn is just another obstacle to overcome.

"This will take less than a moment, Mr Graham, considering it has been made perfectly clear where I stand. I am not interested in it, please take it away." Rangin calmly says with just a hint of distaste for the burly Ensign. He bites his tongue to prevent some of the harsher things he could say, but considering the location and the fact a senior officer is standing right there, who it would appear is compromised by her friendship with Graham, then it would be idiotic to start anything."

Nia suddenly has the oddest sense that everyone would prefer her to vanish. She's disappointed but one must accede to others' wishes, however arbitrary.

"Well, I don't think my knife's thick enough to cut the tension between you two gentlemen, and it's none of my business anyway. But I hope things work out." She smiles, nods, and walks away.

Graham's not sure what to make of--or do about--Nia walking away. But then again his attention is seized by Rangin's little pouty tantrum.

He can't help but shake his head. "I'll never understand how anyone could get their jollies from twisting another person's wish to make them happy into a weapon to make them feel small, failed, or--what's your new favorite word? 'Broken?'" Graham says, carefully keeping his voice level. "And I'm damned grateful for that. I confess I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of knowing that the fact that finding this for you planet-side seemed to mean a lot to Kylah. However...misguided and misplaced....her wishes I felt obligated to carry them out."

He leans forward just slightly. "But I guess you've already notched your belt to mark whatever sick way you keep score manipulating people's feelings. But this is still yours." He slides the bag a few millimeters toward Rangin, then stands back up. "You don't want it, at least have the balls to dispose of it yourself," he finishes, no longer able to keep disgust from his tone.

He pauses, the concludes he has nothing more to say and turns in the direction Nia went--although he's conflicted as to whether he should try to catch up with her or get the hell out of Dodge as expeditiously as possible.

Collins is relieved that whatever drama was being played out at that table, no one shouted and no one got physical. What was in that bag Graham pushed at Rangin? she wonders. And why did Onn leave so quickly? Eh. I guess if it's important, I'll find out later. She shrugs and continues eating and chatting with Cooper.

Cooper sits down with a slice of Veldisi sweet-melon, a cranberry muffin and a huge mug of coffee. He notices Collins's gaze towards the other table and follows it. "What's going on?" he murmurs.

Dr. Bucci looks at Kylah and says soberly, "I can't go into details, of course, but Mr. Fujishiro's condition has... worsened recently, I'm sorry to say. I'm usually not directly involved in her care but of course I keep an eye on her when I'm the duty doc. I've dealt with shipboard deaths from time to time, but not often, fortunately. You just have to remind yourself that mortality is a pretty damn-near-universal rule of sentient life. Death is part of existence; it awaits us all, sooner or later. As a doctor you have to do your very best to keep people healthy, but you can also never forget that sometimes your very best just won't be enough - can't be enough." He smiles ruefully. "Not an easy lesson to learn, though, you know?"

First Officer Vargas and Chief Engineer Cheverez enter the mess hall, talking with each other, and approach the bulkhead replicators.

Kylah nods slowly. Bucci is far more talkative than either of the other Yorktown doctors, and his words give her much to think about. "I understand," she says. "But--but this is different. Fujishiro's situation... that was not inevitable."

She remembers seeing Fujishiro's uniform, stained darkly after the attack of the altered Sakathians, and the woman's worsening condition that was slower than but still similar to Mrs. Porr's. And her parents' deaths leap to mind--as do the horrifying sensations she'd experienced when shooting the Sakathians herself; feeling their last painful, chaotic emotions resulting from the blast of her own weapon.

Swallowing, she stares up at Bucci. "Some deaths are not natural. They are--precipitate. Accidents, malicious attacks. Murders," she adds hollowly as she realizes that she had basically been left for dead on Anubis. "You cannot get used to such things, surely?"

Rangin neatly packs his tray, no longer hungry from Mr Graham's interruption.

"Mr Graham," he quietly says as he stands up, "given I have only ever seen you get your kicks from the physical abuse of others, any claim to the moral ground you have is laughable. That object is not a gift, it's a bribe and one I have no desire to accept, whether from her errand boy or from the Ensign herself. But as you insist, I'll just take it straight back to her in Sickbay before my shift starts. Otherwise, I'm sure you'll just attack me again for no good reason."

Rangin neatly places the gift into his tray and starts to walk away. "You don't need to accompany me, I know the way and those petty restrictions of yours have been rescinded.".

"I'm not sure," Collins replies to Cooper, "but those two are like matter and antimatter, and I'm just dreading the explosion." After she sees Rangin and Graham display tense civility towards each other, she comments "No explosion this morning. Good."

Bucci nods. "Those kinds of deaths are the hardest to deal with - but are not uncommon, out here in space. Goes with the territory, unfortunately."

Listening to Collins, Cooper scoops out some melon with his spoon and chews meditatively. "Here's hoping," he says.

Vargas and Cheverez put food and drink on their trays and sit down, still talking.

Graham almost turns around to confront Rangin as he goes on about some demented fantasy in his sick mind about the gift being a "bribe," but more importantly his statement he would return it to Kylah. Contact between the two of them was certainly not what Graham wanted to precipitate. But he catches himself: what was it Nia had said? You can't lock her in a cage. And any warning Graham would issue would surely just spur Rangin on.

He pauses briefly but does not turn around and keeps walking in Nia's direction. "Hey, ah, ahem, lieutenant..." he essays as he gets close behind her.

On her way to a table full of her colleagues, Nia hears Graham's voice, its quiet tone somehow cutting through the noise of the rest of the crowd better than any shout. She swivels on a heel, surprised. She wouldn't've thought whatever confrontation he intended with Rangin would be over this soon.

Nia smiles at his choice of address. It's appropriate, considering the difference in their ranks and the public nature of the meeting. But after their connection yesterday, she finds it charmingly formal. "Ensign," she responds in kind, her voice rich with amusement. "Thought you'd be busy with your pal back there."

Goes with the territory. Kylah finds Bucci's response callous, even if it is true. Dr. Villa, or even Dr. T'Var, never sounded this clinical. This man has a tougher shell than his joviality implies. Do his age and years of service inure him to what he has seen? Has he been forced to dismiss the grave nature of his patients' deaths--even the notion of murder that Kylah mentioned--in order to maintain his professional distance?

She looks down at Bucci's feet, not wanting her dismay to show. She should be more used to such things herself, considering everything she has dealt with in her young life. But perhaps her nature, her inability to control her empathic abilities, will mean she is forever experiencing things as if for the first time. Kylah wants to be tougher, that much is certain. She cannot crumple into despair at every loss. But she does not wish to harden if it means accepting... what should she call it? ...the obscenity of violence, of illness, of death. Better to treat these as the horrors they are than to take them in stride. Even if it means she suffers.

The reality of Fujishiro's situation puts her own circumstances with Velir into perspective. A dead romance--one that barely began--is far less serious than the very real death occurring not far from her. She is almost ashamed at having mourned a relationship she never deserved. What must Fujishiro's relatives be going through?

"I cannot imagine being that accepting of illness and violent deaths," she says softly. "Perhaps because I have borne the brunt of such things myself. I have been attacked four--no, five times in less than a month. And not just that..."

She cannot help think of the violence she herself has perpetrated. "On my first mission, I had to defend myself, and that meant... killing. They were altered creatures, some even called them 'zombies.' But they had been sentient, living beings, scientists, no different from you or me... or Fujishiro. I cannot forget that they are now dead because of me. I am haunted by that."

Too curious to prevent herself, she tries to see if Bucci is as dispassionate as he seems. Her mind reaches out automatically, just as her hand reaches for her uniform to dress herself, as she asks. "How would you handle such things, doctor? How does one heal from having to harm someone else?"

Rangin stows the tray, picks the gift box up off it and heads to Sickbay, carefully holding it.

When he arrives, he asks if Ens. Kylah is still there and would it be possible to visit her.

Dr. Bucci sighs. "I don't know that you ever do, not completely. Everyone has to find his or her own solution, Ensign. Remind yourself of your duty to your ship and shipmates, even in the most difficult circumstances. Think it through, pray about it, talk it over with family and friends, maybe even a psychiatrist. Dr. Noel is very talented. Would you like me to make an appointment for you? I have to admit, she's better at this than I am."

The duty nurse in Sickbay tells Rangin that Kylah is still there, but is with the doctor at the moment.

"I am not sure I am ready for that, Dr. Bucci. But I will think about your advice," Kylah says. Kylah has been monitoring his emotions. What does she sense? "It might be worthwhile to talk to Dr. Noel. In the meantime, thank you for all you have said, I appreciate it. I had better get dressed now, so I may return to my quarters and clean up before going on duty."

She clutches the uniform to her and glances down at it. Suddenly realizes she never gave the orderly her size. Perhaps he had the outfit beamed from her wardrobe; that would have been kind of him. A very efficient crewman: prescient about the underwear and able to get her the correctly sized uniform. But he never got me the hot cocoa--and I would have liked that most of all, she thinks with a brief hint of a rueful smile.

Graham's grasping for some clever small talk as he approaches Nia. Just before she turns around "Wow your ass looks really great this morning" comes to mind. Way to keep it classy, Booker.... He's spared using that or some other lame line when she speaks first--although his initial response is a moment of obvious confusion.

What pal...? Oh...

Graham clears his throat an resists the urge to turn around. "'Pal' isn't exactly the word I would use, but what's done is done..." he frowns slightly. "I hope I didn't make things worse." Then he shrugs. "But like you said yesterday, I can't lock Ensign Kylah in a cage for her own safety...especially 'her safety according to Booker Graham.' I doubt she'd put up with that even if it were possible."

He falls silent for a slightly awkward pause, then asks, "Uh, do you mind if I join you--for breakfast." He adds "Ma'am," after glancing around and realizing how public their conversation is. He smiles slightly "The way my luck's been going I may need my strength for anything ranging from getting stunned to burning down a building to souvenir hunting. Or all three, in the next watch."

Nia appraises him with pleasure, this strong, experienced man who must be several years her senior yet talks to her like a gawky teenager--at least, a human one. There's no concept of "teenager" on Sidonia.

"I'm honored that you remember my words," she says sincerely, meeting his gaze. "Sure, I'd be happy to eat with you. Although I warn you, I might not hear anything you say over my own chomping." She lifts her large tray for emphasis. "As you see, I take my meals pretty seriously."

With a tilt of her chin she gestures to a table for four, otherwise empty, and moves to it. As she sits, she adds with a sideways smile. "And don't be such a pessimist, Booker. Maybe that strength'll come in handy for something much more enjoyable later on." Nia picks up her mango juice, taking a sip before continuing. "You know... Wrestling. Swimming. Stuff like that." Her tone is innocent but her eyes twinkle at him over her cup with unmistakable mischief.

Graham can't help but grin. "Well, seeing as you're from a desert planet, you might appreciate a fine athletic and artistic tradition of wresting...in mud....on Earth."

He pauses. "Well, only it's not so much athletic, or artistic, really, more like...uh, prurient, and voyeuristic, I guess...but still, in mud, you see..."

He clears his throat and gestures toward the replicator. "Ah, maybe I'll get some food and then join you, in just a minute."

Dr. Bucci bows slightly and leaves. As he does Kylah has a sense, on the surface, of his commitment to her, to his patients and to medicine generally, but beneath that is something... dark, something concealed. She is fleetingly aware of secrets and perhaps even danger, somehow, deeper within his psyche.

Just as she is finishing dressing, the Rigellian orderly returns with her mug of cocoa. He says, "Dr. Bucci asked me to hold off with this until he'd completed his exam. Sorry about that." He has either rewarmed it or gotten a new mug, as it is steaming hot.

The duty nurse sees Dr. Bucci go by, smiles at Rangin and says, "Ens. Kylah may be available for visitors now. Would you like me to ask her?"

Kylah is pensive as she finishes dressing, disturbed by what she felt from Bucci. Of course, they were discussing such unpleasant things, and doctors see so much. Perhaps Bucci saw battle injuries, even took part in a fight himself, and regrets having harmed someone just as she does...

But why such secrets? And such-- Kylah cannot even describe it to herself--that danger, darkness? It is disconcerting and a significant contrast to his overall jolly attitude. She frowns, concerned by the dichotomy. Kylah herself hides much, but she does not think she presents a completely false face to others. Bucci seems to wear a mask that hides pain, or anger, or even something much worse. It reminds her... three visions spring to mind: Her uncle, of course--outwardly so serene, polite and often kind, but seething with plans and deceit; Velir's normally calm demeanor, turned into openly cruel hostility; and of course, the men--literally masked--who beat her for no reason, who lied and betrayed her.

Now she shudders even though she is fully dressed. I am foolish, she thinks in anger and frustration. I have now equated Bucci to deception, cruelty and criminals, all from one brief discussion. Perhaps I should see Dr. Noel. Whatever Bucci has hidden in his past, it surely has nothing to do with me. I should not have infringed on his privacy anyway. She hugs herself for comfort nonetheless and decides not to think of this for now. And then the orderly returns, and provides her with exactly what she wants.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Helisel," Kylah says with gratitude, cupping her cold fingers around the mug's reassuring warmth. "I should have known you would not forget. You must hear this all the time, but although no one wishes to be in sickbay, you have made it as comfortable as possible. All of you." She leans against the bunk and takes a long, much-needed sip of the sweet, comforting drink. Replicated or not, it is rich and familiar and delicious, and almost gives her the strength to return to duty and face others.

Rangin nods politely to the duty nurse. "Yes, please, if you wouldn't mind?" He steels himself to return the gift to Kylah. Perhaps once he had, he could just get on with his life. He didn't know what games she and Graham were playing but he wanted no part of it anymore.

The duty nurse passes Helisel as he's leaving. "Ens. Rangin is here to see you," she tells Kylah. "The doctor has approved your discharge and you're free to go, if you wish."

The news that Velir is outside to see her gives Kylah a far greater shock than the news that she is free to leave Sickbay. At once she lowers her mug, staring stupidly at the aide, then at the door beyond which Velir must be waiting for her.

He is here, she thinks, a sudden thrill rippling through her. He came back to me. He must have heard the message I left!

At last she shakes herself from her stupor. "Thank you," she stammers to the aide. Somehow she sets the mug down without shattering it on the small table, then picks up the plate of Bellaque and her battered canvas bag. With a deep breath, she exits the private room and enters the main Sickbay area.

With the aide still in her former room, Velir is alone. Just seeing him makes Kylah want to smile, but she cannot. She is too afraid to do so. She does not want to ruin anything by appearing too confident, especially since it is far from the truth. Instead she just sets the bag down on the floor, and the Bellaque on a counter, and stands with her hands clasped. "Velir," she says softly, unable to hide the tremulous anticipation from her voice.

* * *

Rangin was all smiles when he thanked the aide earlier, but by the time he turns round to find Kylah now before him, his face is emotionless as he looks at her once again.

"I see you have made a recovery from your injuries." The tone is clipped off as he struggles to say anything further. He doesn't want to see a fellow crewmember injured and just wants this done and dusted.

* * *

Kylah's mood starts to sink once she sees Velir's expression--rather, the lack of one. He could be speaking to a stranger, or even just a wall. But she is so desperate to believe he has come to bridge the chasm that she decides he is just being careful, shy, maybe even too proud to reveal his emotions just yet.

She steps a few inches closer. "Yes," she murmurs. "The wounds have healed. Though my left wrist is still stiff. I do not think it will ever fully recover, not after also being injured by the slime devil attack..."

Kylah swallows. Perhaps reminding him of their mutual battle will help him recall the bond they share? Finally she blurts: "Velir, are you here because you heard--"

* * *

"I came to return your gift." Rangin holds up the box from behind his back, his hand still steady. "Ens. Graham was unkind enough to present it to me at breakfast. I didn't want it when you first presented it and I don't want it now. Rather than just leave it sitting on a table in the Mess Hall, I though I had better return it." Holding it out like it could bite him at any moment, Rangin only wants to put it down and walk away.

* * *

Kylah's eyes widen. "How did you get--I thought it was still..." She looks down at her bag on the floor, and then swiftly returns to Velir when she digests his words. "Mr. Graham gave that to you? I never asked him to do that," she says, flushing. "But since he did... why will you not keep it? I bought it for you, it is yours."

* * *

Rangin cannot believe she didn't want Graham to pass it across, why else would she have given it to him in the first place? Perhaps between the pair of them they had cooked up this idea so she could disclaim all knowledge of it and maintain her facade of innocence.

He shakes his head in disgust, steps across and places the gift on a nearby table. "I'm only going to say this once, do not try to buy my affection again. Graham said that finding it meant a lot to you. Well, given everything he's said and you've done, I don't believe it. There, you can have it back, I'm sure it contains something generic enough to please the next poor fool who falls for your charms."

* * *

Every frigid word he utters just stabs further at Kylah's shriveling dreams. Even without trying she feels the chill of his contempt. She shakes her head, unable to comprehend how Velir could be so hard, how he could misunderstand her so completely. How he could think she misunderstands him so completely.

"You are wrong. I did not--I would never want to buy your affection. Even if I were the sort of woman who would try such a ploy... I know you are not someone who can be bought. I would not feel as I do if you were."

Her voice is as taut as her poor zither's former strings. "Velir," she says, begging now, "did you not hear what I said in my message to you last night? Did you not listen?"

* * *

There is a cold shiver down Rangin's spine as he can almost feel the tap, tap, tap of a set of painted fingernails across his shoulder. Of course I bought you gifts to keep you away from her...you're mine. An angry, raging cry echoes through his memories.

"Listen?" he croaks out, "No, I didn't listen to you...your message. It came while I was being interviewed by a Detective from Anubis." Rangin can feel himself getting angry again, he had been there because of Kylah. "They wanted to know all sorts of things, like did I know what you were up to, did I know about your zither, were we romantically involved? As if I was responsible for you being attacked, is that the price I pay for not being compliant?"

* * *

The whirling emotions surrounding him confuse her. Kylah feels slapped by the vicious rage, the righteous indignation Velir is exuding. Then he reveals that the detective spoke to him... She is sick with mortification at hearing the questions Lunnd asked him.

"Velir," she says fervently, "you must believe that I never, ever made anyone think you were to blame. You could not have been! I defended you! And as for the other questions..." She feels her face burn. "I have no idea how he knew you and I are--were--connected. He asked that of me as well. All I expressed were my own feelings. I said nothing about yours. I would not presume to know them."

The shame of his being asked such intrusive questions lowers her gaze. "I am sorry you were involved," she whispers. "I did not ask to be attacked, you know. You act as if I were robbed, beaten and left on a filthy floor simply to inconvenience you. That is not fair." Finally she cannot stop herself from asking: "What... what did you tell him?"

* * *

"Inconvenience me? I wouldn't wish what happened to you on anyone. Just how callous do you think I am?" Rangin cannot believe what he is hearing, after everything he did to find her--more than anyone else on the ship.

"And no, I didn't say anything to them. Whatever you were up to down there is for you to continue keeping secret. I want no part of it. It's just another you will be keeping along with all the others. Perhaps that is what this gift was really for, to buy me and my silence, keep me so enamoured with you, it wouldn't matter."

Rangin cannot help the tone of self-disgust creeping in to his voice, as shadows from long past seem to darken the room until he is not sure if the words are aimed at Kylah or at a figure that sometimes haunts his dreams.

* * *

The accusation almost slams into Kylah's chest, and she actually steps back in disbelief. Buying his silence! Kylah cannot breathe for the pain--not even just her own, but his. It emanates from him: he is hurt, grievously; these are genuine emotions. What did she do to make him think she is so base? What did she do to deserve such contempt?

Then a small response comes to her: I did nothing.

This inner voice, almost a whisper, begins to swell in volume. For the first time, Kylah's own anger begins to rise, because for the first time she realizes that this is the truth: regardless of the things she has withheld from him, she does not deserve such treatment.

"How dare you," she whispers, her chin lifting and hands clenching into fists. "How dare you speak to me like that? Do you know what it meant to me, to trust you as I did? And yes, I did trust you. The night before, I offered you myself. I bared my heart and body to you. You claim I share such things lightly, but that is false, more false than you can know. It is clear you understand very little of who I am, whereas I...I..."

She sobs, losing control--the last thing she wants to do now. Angrily she wipes the tears away, and just as quickly she holds her hand out to him. "There! Here is proof for you! Why would I waste my time with trinkets to 'buy' your silence? I am an Elasian woman--or half, anyway--and if I were as venal as you think, I would simply wipe one tear on your cheek and you would do anything I wished. But I have not. I would not. Think on that."

She hates being this forceful with him. Kylah's shoulders slump and she weakens slightly. The fact that poor Fujishiro is dying only yards away makes this entire thing seem even more disgraceful and inappropriate.

"This is madness. Please, Velir. Please do not let things degenerate to this. We were so close. If we could just talk later, when we are off-duty? I will... I will try to explain what I was doing on the planet. I promise. As for the gift, I just wanted to make you happy. To show you... to show you that I do know you, better than you realize."

* * *

"Better than I realise?" Rangin snaps. "You don't know me at all. I certainly don't know who you are. Talk later, that's all you ever say, I'll tell you later. Why should I believe you, when you never tell me the truth in the first place? You lied to me, remember your zither?"

He shakes his head. "Those tears of yours, you won't use them because the first time you did, you would never get another chance to use them again. No, why not just spend some money, an expensive dinner or a gift, and keep me sweet."

What does she know about me? They have only known each other for such a short time, how could she possibly know who he is, while standing there so oblivious to hurt and pain she's causing?

The disgust urges him forward, striding to the table with the gift box. "You say you know me? Well, let's prove it, shall we? If you know me so well, just what's so special that you thought it could buy me?" He reaches across and starts to rip at the packaging around the gift. The paper around it will not take long to tear off, and then whatever miserable little trinket inside will be revealed.

* * *

Kylah is aghast that the present she considered so tenderly is about to be ripped open with such violence. Unbidden, her minded is flooded with visions of the thieves' filthy hands rifling through her bag, ripping open her mothers' jewel box, even tearing her dress to grab the communicator between her breasts.... She cannot bear it.

"Open it, then," she cries, her voice shrill and barely containing her rising hysteria. "But you will do it alone. Mock me alone. I have had enough, more than enough!"

She spins around and grabs her bag and the plate of Bellaque, then rushes to the door. As it whooshes open, Kylah turns around and flings at him:

"You consider Ensign Graham an uncouth brute. But I will tell you this, Velir Rangin: He is far kinder to me and has earned my trust. Whereas your rigid, moral superiority has made you a vicious, callous bully!"

Without waiting to see him desecrate her lovingly purchased gift, she stalks through the door into the corridor, at last letting her angry tears fall unheeded.

* * *

Rangin barely heeds her words as the paper is torn from around the box as he scatters it across the table in rage and then spins the small case around to stare at the gift in front of him. And it's...

...it's beautiful.

Even in his rage, the exquisite glass statue looks back at him. A twin-horned beast, proud and noble with an expression of strength somehow shown in its stance. Faced with a creature, Rangin cannot help but try to name it. It's...it's...an Arabok, he thinks, dragging the name from his memory, from books studied long ago, books that filled him with happiness and wonder.

He can almost picture the text under the old pictures, but his surprise and anger cloud his mind and the words he should be so easily able to remember slip away like the paper he so recently tore, leaving him despairing.

Opening the glass case, he discovers a little tag explaining about the creature, the words now springing forth as sharp reminder of what this animal represents, and of what he is losing. "The Arabok: indigenous to Anubis, known for its intelligence and perseverance. The alpha Arabok grows twin spiral horns to show his dominance over his herd."

Through shallow breaths, he puts the note down and looks at the note attached to it.

Velir,

For the man as strong, intelligent and noble as this beautiful creature... which I know you will recognize, for your love of natural life is part of what I myself love in you.

Yours, Kylah.

Rangin is stunned. Is this really what Kylah thought of him, something he could never have seen in himself? And because of that, he had forced her away, bullied her.

He remembers their shared respect for the lifeforms on the Sakathian station, as horrific creatures as they were. He remembers some of the times they spent together on OCIII, not the romantic ones, not the dangerous ones, but the quiet times, just being together and how they had both missed the wildlife around.

In those moments Kylah did know him, perhaps more than he would care to admit.

The statuette slips from his grasp and lands on the table, fortunately cushioned by some of the wrapping paper as Rangin's emotions swirl around him. Clutching the note tightly in one hand, he stares down at it, the words in Kylah's neat, elegant handwriting.

Has he completely misunderstood this woman? For a moment he doesn't know what to think, as Kylah's final words echo back to him and he wonders where he had gone so very, very wrong.




Credits: Velir & Kylah by CatInASuit and choie

Nia's ill-suppressed smile makes it clear she isn't offended by Graham's joke. Picking up a piece of toast, she uses it to gesture gracefully toward the replicator, inviting him to get his food before he runs out of apologetic explanations. And once he retreats, she knows she will surreptitiously enjoy the view.

Graham checks the time and is grateful he has time to eat and that the unpleasant task of giving Rangin a gift he deserved shoved so far up his--well, didn't deserve to be handed politely. He harbors some hope that his intention to return it will confirm to Kylah once and for all he's worth neither her affection nor her time.

But that's out of my hands for the moment, he thinks, filling his plate with steak, eggs, blood pudding and--almost as an afterthought--some roasted tomatoes. Nobody does breakfast like the Scots even after hundreds and hundreds of years since we no longer needed to mix blood with oatmeal to survive the winter, he muses.

Regretfully he concedes its too close to duty to spike his coffee--not that doing so might have made the best impression on Nia, he realizes.

As he returns to her table he offers Collins a wave and nod--noting she's there with Ben, which seems like a good thing to Graham.

Collins returns Graham's wave and notices he's heading to sit with Lt. Onn. She raises one eyebrow and smiles. She nods in that direction and tells Ben "Starfleet makes another match."

In the corridor, Kylah nearly collides with Lt. Thalen, who says, "I was just coming to see you!" Then he notices her expression, and asks, very concerned, "What's wrong, Kylah? Are you all right?"

Dr. Bucci approaches Rangin and asks quietly, "Is there a problem, Ensign? Anything I can help with?"

Cooper chuckles through a mouthful of cranberry muffin. "Chalk another one up for the Federation's finest taxpayer-supported interstellar dating service."

Shaken, Kylah does her best to pull herself together, wiping her tears on her uniform sleeve in an undignified manner. "Lieutenant, please forgive me. I was not looking where I was going, I am hurrying to drop my things off at my quarters and clean up before my watch--I am fine, this is nothing--" When his gentle concern does not seem convinced, she feels fresh tears spill over.

"I suppose it is just... frustration, anger..." She searches for some explanation. "You see, when I was discharged from sickbay, I could not even dress in my own uniform. The thieves took that along with my money and jewelry, and ruining my zither and communicator... I just feel as if nothing was left intact." Kylah shakes her head, aching with the hollowness caused by Velir's demeaning words, his extraordinarily uncharitable estimation of her character.

But she must not continue showing such weakness in front of Thalen. Harnessing every ounce of strength she possesses, she struggles to regain control. "I am sorry, it is shameful to act like this in front of my superior. I will be all right once I am back on duty and everything returns to normal, I promise. There is nothing I wish more than to put this behind me and return to my post. After all the trouble and delay I have caused, I do not wish to put anyone else at any further inconvenience. That is the least I can do."

Kylah blinks and realizes she has not let the lieutenant speak. "Forgive me, sir, I have gone on and on... You said you wished to see me? Was it just a visit, or do you have an assignment or task for me...?" Suddenly she glances down and notices that--rather ridiculously--Thalen has caught her not just crying, but carrying a plate of candied pastry. Awkward, she holds the dish out. "Would you... like to try some of this? It is an Elasian dessert, but it can be eaten at breakfast. Ship's Cook Johnson made it for me. It is very good."

Nia takes a bite out of one of her sausages and chews contemplatively while watching Graham. "So," she says when she swallows. "I had the distinct feeling three was a crowd back there, knowing how you feel about Rangin. Everything... okay? Doesn't look like it's affected your appetite, at least," she adds with an appreciative glance at his heavy tray. Turning sober, she tilts her head. "Seriously. Any news on the crime front? Last thing I heard, the cops only had two of the muggers. Are you going to be involved in the hunt to find the third guy? 'Course, once my watch starts I'll know if--and/or when--we'll be departing orbit, which'll confirm that our role in the investigation's over."

Graham realizes he's shoveling food into his mouth like there's no tomorrow--didn't really eat enough after the weights yesterday, he realizes, then forces himself to slow down.

He swallows and puts down his fork, looking at Nia as she does that cute sort of tilt of her head thing she does sometimes...

"Well," he answers slowly. "I think Ens. Kylah would be far better off if Rangin were transferred to study fossilized lichen on a frozen asteroid so far out on the Frontier that the local star chart says 'Here be dragons." He pauses and then shrugs. "But if wishes were horses, right?" He shakes his head. "I don't know, we'll see, I guess."

He picks up his fork and pokes at his food. "On the crime front...I'm not sure. I think Lunnd is pretty solid, though. He'll do as good as job putting the screws to these assholes to get them to roll over as we could, I think." He looks up. "Sorry...Security shop talk probably sounds like a bunch of chimps hooting compared to Helm and Nav, talking about azimuths and stuff."

It takes a few moments for Rangin to look around and realise Dr Bucci is talking to him and a few moments longer to notice the state of the area with bits of wrapping paper scattered around and the statue on the table still staring back at him.

"I believe I have a very large problem sir and I do not think it will matter how skilled the physician, they still do not have a cure for hubris," he says quietly back to the Doctor. "I am terribly sorry, I appear to have scattered paper everywhere. I'll clean it up immediately."

Making sure the statue is safe on the table, Rangin begins to quickly pick up the bits of wrapping into a small ball as he tries to consider what he should do next, his thoughts only on the moment of now, of tidying up and trying not to think of what he had been called, perhaps deservedly so by Kylah or what he should do later to unravel the mess he had caused, which would be a far larger job than the one he is currently undertaking.

Thalen says, "Uh, no, thanks," to Kylah's offer of pastry. "Come with me, please, Ensign." He leads her to a nearby observation lounge, away from the curious eyes of passersby in the corridor, and leans against the table there. "I was just dropping by Sickbay to see how you were doing." He pauses. "You've been through a lot lately, Kylah. Are you sure you're up to a return to duty? Would you rather have some time to yourself? I'll order whichever you think would do you the most good."

Dr. Bucci says wryly to Rangin, "No, no cure for hubris. I know a lot of doctors who could use a dose, if there were." He helps the young xenobiologist pick up the debris. "Anything else I can do for you, Ensign?"

Rangin sits back on his haunches and accepts the shreds of wrapping paper from Dr Bucci, before scrumpling them into a ball ready for disposal. Rising to his feet to acknowledge the question he shakes his head wearily. "No, sir, I believe what lies before me is a problem of my own construction and the best and probably only solution is to think long and hard about the situation."

He picks up the status and looks at it, before neatly folding the note and the gift tag and replacing them all back into the case. Kylah had completely surprised him, despite his treatment of her leaving him wondering if he even deserved such a gift. A gift she got because she had dumped him in a bar on Anubis. They both had things to talk about, and Kylah had promised, but Rangin didn't know if he could hold her to it. Perhaps later, let things calm down, let his own emotions calm down. Now isn't the time to make any rash decisions.

Aware that he has spent the last few seconds unmoving and looking the case, Rangin coughs slightly. "It's quite the piece isn't it sir? I'd better put this away before I start my watch. Thank you, sir, for your kindness." Rangin leaves to go back to his quarters and stow the gift before heading to the Science bay and begin his testing on the new proto-sensor.

It's not the only background research he will be doing. He promised himself only a few days ago, to find out about Kylah and if he is going to be doing research, it's time to expand it in scope a little.

Collins takes her last gulp of coffee, and says to Cooper "Shall we?" She stands and gathers the remnants of her meal onto the tray. Once they have properly disposed of their trays, she kisses Ben "Have a good day at the office, honey." and giggles a little. Then she heads to the Bridge for the start of her watch.

Blood seems to freeze in Kylah's veins at the thought of being ordered off-duty. She does her best to hide her desperation, but she cannot help either the earnest need that draws her closer to Thalen, or the urgency in her voice.

"No, thank you, sir. I wish to serve, to work and be useful. There would be nothing worse than to be all alone and unproductive. That would make me feel more of a victim, and--and then they truly will have taken everything from me, even my value to the ship."

Kylah searches the lieutenant's eyes, wondering if she is getting through to him. "Please, sir," she says softly. "I understand your concern, but I promise I will hold things together. I will not let you down."

"Of course," T'Var tells Dr. Villa. "It never hurts to look things over yet again. Perhaps I may notice something I did not before."

The doctor pauses a moment. "However, if this is the end, we will need to prepare for the reaction of our crew. Fujishiro's death -- whenever it comes -- will be most difficult on all of us."