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

Kylah nods sympathetically at M. Deschamps. It must be terrible to have one's home devastated by such a cruel illness. "I have spoken to the medical team already," she says. "I do hope that someday I will understand just how pleasant the spores can be." She then shrugs as if to imply that the topic is not important. "The thought of knowing such delight and then abruptly ceasing it does worry me. Is the experience of ending your treatment very jarring?"

Graham feels his shoulders tensing up. On the plus side, he's been able to have a decent conversation with the Hsus. The fact is that even if Wilson is a good guy--and as far as I am concerned, the jury is still out--he's on the hook to be the head ass-kisser, so whatever he is going to be willing to say or do will be highly constrained, he thinks.

On the downside, somebody just tried to hack security--and I've completely lost track of the admiral, dammit. And Kylah's getting ready to go undercover alone with some rich jerk. Correction, he thinks--you don't know he's a jerk. But he's a rich guy, Booker thinks, so it's a safe bet. He's comforted by the fact that Kylah and Collins went off together to get ready: Collins has a few years in Security under her belt, and they're roommates after all, so they should have a good rapport that helps get Kylah's head into the game.

"No, not jarring," the New Parisian man says. "Just... a little sad, a little disappointing, for me at least. But all good things must come to an end, no?"

Kylah nods. "Toutes les bonnes choses ont une fin," she says quietly. "That has been my experience as well. I am glad this treatment is one you can repeat, however; I should think it makes the parting easier to bear. I hope you did not have to wait too long before you could return?"

"Over a year," he says. "My income, and the distance, both kept me away longer than I would have liked." He smiles and sighs contentedly. "But it was definitely worth the wait."

Kylah gives him a small but kind smile. He seems so gentle and likeable--it was very fortunate that she ran into him. Her mood remains low but at least she's received a much-needed reminder that not all humans are cruel bigots. "I am glad you were able to find the money to do something that gives you such pleasure, monsieur. How long is your present stay? And what would you most recommend as activities while here?"

Collins pulls out her communicator and looks at it as it chirps. When she hears Graham's voice, she opens it reluctantly. "Collins here. Yes, I'm in the lounge, by the big window. There are not a lot of people around. Collins out." Knowing that Graham will show up shortly, she tries to pull herself together, although her efforts seem fruitless.

"Actually, we are actually staying at the research facility. We are with Starfleet and we are here to make sure that everything is running smoothly, both there and at the resort." Rangin waits to see how they react to the omission from earlier. He hadn't said he was on vacation, just that it was his first time here.

"But a hike across the land would be most pleasant", Rangin continues in a very calm and serene voice, "perhaps something could be arranged for tomorrow."

T'Var nods in agreement with Rangin. "Yes, if possible, we would very much enjoy a hike with you."

Deschamps says, "I'll be here almost another two weeks. I like to golf, and swim, and read. The food is quite good, too." He pats his belly a little self-consciously.

The Icelandic couple don't seem put out by the admission that T'Var and Rangin are with Starfleet. "A hike it is, then!" says Mr. Gunnarsson. "Shall we meet tomorrow at, say, 10am, in the main lobby?"

"Wonderful. Should our duties permit, then we would be delighted. If we unable to join you, we will, of course, inform you before breakfast." Rangin notes their lack of reaction, seemingly as expected from the effect of the spores. "Until tomorrow then?"

If nothing else further occurs Rangin will be heading across to the next couple with T'Var to repeat the conversation again and see what response they gain from them.

T'Var and Rangin next meet David and Melissa Menessou, of Atakora, Benin, in the United States of Africa. They are both retired, him from banking and her from teaching. This is their third trip to OC3, and they like it very much. "We'd probably live here if we could afford it!" Mrs. Menessou jokes. She is an amateur gardener and especially enjoys the flowers.

Kylah nods. "I have only eaten in one of the restaurants thus far, their sole 'alien' establishment, and it was quite good. I will have a chance to experience the Italian place this evening." This evening... how will she manage to maintain a veneer of sociability when feeling this sad? Why did she agree to this? Of course, because it was her duty to learn more about this resort. Well, she cannot shirk it just because her mission commander managed to do everything to dishearten her. Perhaps walking around some more will improve her state of mind.

She inhales in hopes that oxygen will give her more energy. "...But that does remind me that I have little time left before my engagement, and need to make some final preparations. I am very glad to have met you, M. Deschamps--and I thank you for your advice. My stay is much shorter than yours, but perhaps we will speak again before I leave?" Standing, she holds out her hand to the old gentleman.

He rises, shakes her hand and also gives her a peck on each cheek. "Au revoir, mademoiselle. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I hope we meet again."

"Do you have any complaints about the resort?" T'Var asks the retired couple. "After three trips here, I am certain you know this place very well."

Kylah is particularly touched by the man's kindness--and both his closeness and the physical connection allow her to sense his warmth and peaceful joy even without trying; the spores are likely the reason. She almost wants to linger just so as to hold these feelings close. Instead she thanks him again in a soft voice and leaves the lounge, her heart aching.

As she walks back along the corridor toward the shops and, further along, the hospital, she can't help think of what Deschamps said to her about speaking to the medical staff. Perhaps she should. Obviously not for this mission, but maybe the spores--as mistrustful as she has been toward the treatment--would be a useful therapy for her on some vacation. If nothing else, they might provide some respite from herself, the parts of her that seem to engender such disappointment and dislike in others. It cannot be all their doing. Not so many, not for so many years. Even her family.

No, do not do this, do not be so maudlin, Kylah thinks, placing a hand to her head. I shall never survive the evening! She pauses, takes a deep breath, and wonders how she might be of use while still offering a distraction from her mood.

She pauses and checks her communicator's chronometer; if there is time before they are to convene in the lobby, she will head outside, perhaps to see the house now being used by Lord Fastolfe. She is very curious to see how the man continues to fare under the influence of the spores. If he can be made agreeeable, anyone can. Even me.

Graham nods to the Hsus. "If you'll excuse us, we'll meet up with Lt. Collins and the others. Assuming she approves we'll figure out how the Yorktown's systems can compliment your own. And I'd definitely like to talk shop with you while we're here," he adds, looking at Lionel. If neither the Hsus or Delaney have anything else to add, he heads toward the lounge.

The Menessous look at each other, and the gentleman says in a quiet voice, "No, no complaints, really. We always enjoy our visits here. That's why we keep coming back, after all!"

Kylah has time to go outside. Some nicely-dressed people pass her on their way to the various restaurants for dinner. Several men and at least one woman look her over with great interest.

The Hsus have nothing to add, but say goodbye for now. Delaney accompanies Graham and mutters, "It can't be a coincidence that someone's trying to hack their security system the same day the Yorktown arrives."

Collins's communicator beeps. It's Lt. Christopher Palver, director of the Starfleet research station. He says, "Mr. Collins, I hope you've had a good visit to the resort. Your guest rooms are ready here. Not meaning to nudge, but when should we expect you back?"

"That's really good to hear that the resort is so popular. Just out of curiousity, is that because of the spore therapy or just because its such a great place. If it wasn't on offer, would you come back here or go elsewhere?" Rangin enquires further.

"Well, the spore therapy is definitely a draw, and of course it's unique," Mrs. Menessou burbles, "but it'd be a great place even without that." Her husband nods in agreement.

"Collins here" Jeremi responds. "Unless you have a curfew or shut down time, we're going to have dinner here and be back sometime before, but no later than, 2200."

While she waits for Palver's response, she looks for Graham's approach. When the conversation with the research station is done, she will send a private message to Captain Singh, asking to speak with her privately before the mission recap.

Kylah feels the slightly cooler air as the afternoon turns to dusk, and the difference in the sky is astonishing. Before, it was almost too bright to look at directly. Now it's a shade that reminds her of her mother's favorite gown, all soft, purple and velvet. All the outbuildings are cast in the same shade, as are the trees and vegetation. She inhales deeply, feeling better for being among nature rather than people. Life is so much quieter without others.

She frowns while looking to her left and right. Either her memory is faulty--quite possible, considering all that's occurred in the past couple of hours--or the tour they took earlier never went past the apparently grander houses that seem to be so prized by the wealthiest guests. She wanders for a bit, then climbs to the top of a hillrise and pauses, turning around to get the best view of her surroundings. The gentle breeze blows her hair and dress about, and it's a lovely sensation. Between the weather and the beautiful surroundings, Kylah understands more of the resort's attraction. Nevertheless, if she could, she would disappear entirely. She has the strangest desire to return to her favorite hiding place back on Elas in the old, closed-off sections of her family mansion and sit as she used to, knees hugged tightly against her chest, eyes closed, enjoying the dark silence and freedom from others' influence on her mind.

Sighing at the pointless fantasy, she looks for signs of the houses, or at least anyone in the vicinity who might help her find her way around.

The Starfleet scientist chuckles. "That would be fine, Mr. Collins. No curfew, but we would like to know approximately when to expect you; please let me know if you're going to be much later than that. Thank you. Palver out."

Lt. Thalen replies for the Captain, "She's available to speak to you whenever you wish."

Kylah cannot see the guest houses from her current vantage point - she thinks they might be on the far side of the main resort complex - but she can see the well-kept gardens and outer grounds quite well. As evening falls, she also sees T'Var and Rangin talking to what appears to be an older Human couple. They are no more than a minute or so away on foot. Several other people, guests and a WR&R groundskeeper, are also nearby.

At the sight of her colleagues, Kylah's muscles literally twitch with the impulse to cross over to T'Var and Rangin. She actually starts in their direction, but stops herself when Collins's painful words return to her. Go run to your mommy substitute. That is why you cling to T'Var, isn't it? Were you taken from your own mother too soon? Were you not ready to be weaned?

Her mouth dry, she turns away. Collins has effectively tainted Kylah's one beneficial female relationship on the Yorktown, turned it into something pathetic and contemptible--even psychologically perverse. Kylah can only thank her deep sense of privacy that when talking about her romantic feelings, she did not reveal Velir Rangin as their object. What would Collins have done to poison that?

Now she is far to self-conscious to seek out T'Var and Rangin, as much as she longs to speak with them. At least she will see them in the lobby. Besides, she is still on duty, and she would not be at all surprised if none of the others had been willing to follow up with the odious man.

So Kylah heads to the groundskeeper. When she reaches the employee she apologizes for interrupting any duties, but asks where the deluxe cottages are. "I do not wish to gawk, I assure you," she says with a gentle shake of her head. "You see, I had the good fortune of assisting Lord Fastolfe with ensuring he was satisfied with the housing arrangements. I just hoped to see if he is indeed enjoying his vacation. Would you be able to help me, please?"

The groundskeeper, an older woman holding a rake and shears, says, "I'm not allowed to tell you where particular guests are staying, ma'am, but the guest houses are through the lobby, down the hallway to your right, and then just follow the signs. Or you can take the long way around the resort - go to your left, then right as far as you can, then right again."

"I hear you," Graham replies to Delaney as they walk. "But is it because we dropped off an admiral, or because somebody wants to make WR&R look bad so they can shark the contract? Or something else? With who knows how many important people around, and who knows how much money at stake..." He shakes his head. "Nothing to be done but keep trying to figure it out."

Kylah thanks the groundskeeper and, worried about the time factor, decides she had better leave off the Fastolfe plan until tomorrow. She could take the shorter route through the lobby, but not at the risk of running into Collins earlier than necessary. If she's to see her crew again before dinner, she wants the others around her. Not another one-on-one with Collins.

She glances back in T'Var and Rangin's direction. Are they heading toward the resort again? She decides to move more quickly. She also doesn't want Collins to see her arriving with T'Var. This is absurd, I should not have to care about such things! Damn that woman to the southern continent, Kylah thinks furiously. As she walks downhill, she rather relishes the prospect of Collins being confined to the most remote area of Elas -- considered uninhabitable because of its high level of volcanic activity. It's also the area most full of Dilithium, but only unmanned vehicles are used to locate and then transport the crystals for use. If suddenly Collins winked into existence there, her lungs would burn up with a single breath, followed by her skin melting off and then her bones turned to ash.

Perhaps it's a tad exaggerated a punishment for someone who's merely a tactless, bullying, scatterbrained and incompetent leader. Still, considering it's all hypothetical, Kylah enjoys the indulgent fantasy nevertheless.

"That's kind of what I thought. Well, it's been a pleasure to speak to you", nods Rangin in their direction, "and I hope the rest of your stay is most pleasant."

He will hopefully wander off to one side with Dr T'Var and ask, "Well, what do you think so far?"

Collins replies to Thalen while waiting for Graham to show up "Thank you, Lieutenant. When we return from the mission, but before the debrief, would be good."

Graham finds Collins in the lounge. In a low voice he informs her of the attempt to break into the facility's systems. "Mrs. Hsu and her husband--he's chief of security--seemed willing to work with us," he concludes. "I suggested we bring the Yorktown's systems to bear on monitoring and tracing...with your permission, L-T."

"Yes," Collins says as she opens her communicator, grateful that Graham didn't notice her red eyes. "Collins to Yorktown, Ensign Graham has some information to share." She holds the communicator out so that Graham can hear and speak into it easily.

Kylah enters the resort and slowly heads to the lobby, where she's surprised to discover that she's the only team member there. She looks around at the front desk warily, as if expecting Collins to jump out at her, but there's still no sign of her colleagues. Next she glances at her communicator to ensure she hasn't arrived too late after all. But no, not only does the chronometer confirm that she's on time, she remembers that T'Var and Rangin are still outside and are likely about to arrive. Kylah absently runs a hand through her curls, creating some order out of the chaos created by the breeze outside, and thinks of what she might possibly accomplish in the remaining time that perhaps the others haven't.

She turns to the front desk clerk. "I beg your pardon," she says quietly. "I am a member of the Yorktown crew that accompanied Admiral Hardin, one of your guests, to the resort. My name is Ensign Kylah, the landing party's communications officer, and I just wanted to ensure that everything is satisfactory. Do you know if anyone from my crew have communicated with the Admiral since he arrived? Of course I do not need any details, I simply want to make sure we have been in touch."

Glancing around to ensure there isn't a guest who might overhear, Graham speaks into the communicator. "There's been an attempt to remotely access the resort's security systems via encrypted subspace transceiver. No more details than that so far--but they are willing to accept any help the Yorktown can provide monitoring their systems and trying to track any further attempts...ah, not that I know how to set that up personally, but I can make the connection down here with their chief of security."

The clerk checks a computer terminal and says, "No call for Adm. Hardin has come through our front desk; someone might have contacted him directly, though. I see no indication that the admiral has had any problems."

Cmdr. Vargas, the Yorktown's First Officer, comes on the line with Collins and Graham. He says, "Thanks for letting us know. I'll get in touch with the resort's chief of security and see what we can do."

T'Var and Rangin arrive in the lobby, see Kylah and come over to her. Graham now notices them from the lounge.

Noticing some of the team in the lobby, Graham can't help but smile a little: a few foibles and little mysteries aside, it seems like a good group. "Looks like the gang's all here," he says to Collins, "shall we?" He pauses a moment with one hand raised to wave to the others, halfway through turning and taking a step toward the lobby. Collins seems a little...off. "Is everything OK, L-T?" he asks.

"Thank you," Kylah says to the clerk, patting the desk absently. She hesitates. No, she can't possibly get Collins any angrier with her than she already is. "Would you... would you please leave a message with Admiral Hardin for me? Please just tell him that the Yorktown crew are still here and at his disposal, and of course not to hesitate to contact either me--or more appropriately our mission leader, Lieutenant JG Collins--if the need arises?" Kylah waits a beat, then adds: "Otherwise please let him know that we hope his vacation is all he wishes it to be."

She nods her thanks to the employee and turns around--whereupon her gaze lands on T'Var and Rangin entering the lobby. Her immediate thought on seeing the Vulcan is slight disappointment that her plan of not being seen with T'Var in front of Collins so quickly has been foiled. But that is quickly followed by indignation. I shall see whom I choose!

And that is even more quickly followed by her attention being drawn to Rangin. Her breathing quickens and she can't help a flash of self-consciousness at her new gown, whether she looks anything the way she hoped to, or if Collins has allowed her to look like a trollop. But she controls herself and despite dearly wanting to draw closer to the Coridanite, she addresses T'Var first. "Hello again, Doctor."

Finally she lets herself look at Velir and does her best to hold his gaze. Her intent all along was to look mature and womanly, and that means being able to be calm in the face of her insecurities. She breathes deeply to steady her nerves. This has the unforeseen result of emphasizing her cleavage as the slit beneath the halter clasp parts, and she quickly exhales to avoid what could be a disastrous slip of the material.

"...A-and Mr. Rangin," she says quietly. "I hope the two of you found the rest of your time at the hospital edifying."

As the enter the lobby Rangin is in a good mood. From what he has seen and heard from the guests this is little more than a high class resort if money can afford it with the spore therapy an icing on the cake. But nothing to suggest the addictive nature that some commodities have.

"Look, its a high class resort", he continues, " of course, they all look relaxed and happy, they have paid a lot of money to be pampered and happy. It would not be much of a resort, if they were not happy. Admittedly they don't have the predilection to respond to slight falsehoods, but from their words and actions I would hardly say they are addicted."

Rangin stops speaking as Kylah approaches and he drinks in the sight of the clothes she is wearing. As she fixes his gaze, he locks into it, nods to her in appreciation and then slowly and deliberately looks her down and then up before meeting her gaze again and making sure she is noticing.

"Very impressive, Mr Kylah. I feel honoured to have seen you so attired. If I had known dinner was so formal, I would have changed into something more appropriate. But this is all I have to wear. I wish I was the one fortunate enough to be escorting you to dinner tonight." Rangin brushes off a speck of fluff from one sleeve with a smile.

"The hospital itself was most interesting. We have a few answers and a difference of opinion, that myself and the good doctor were working out. It was quite refreshing."

Collins sighs "Too much to go into now. After the mission, I'll tell you over beer." She pockets her communicator and joins Graham in heading to meet up with the group.

Kylah can almost feel the weight of Rangin's deliberate stare as it passes up and down her body, and she's filled with a strange mixture of pleasure and concern. As much as she hoped he would see her differently, she does not feel comfortable with the sense that he's not just admiring her appearance; it's as if he wants her to feel like a racehorse for sale.

And his words seem to send the same mixed message. On the surface they are flattering, to be sure. But 'impressive' and 'honored to have seen you' -- there is something dismissive and dry in such comments. Does he think she is showing off? Flaunting herself? In truth there is only one man she wishes to impress, only one man she wishes were escorting her to dinner. She nearly blurts that she, too, wishes he were her date tonight.

Instead she just says "Thank you," fighting her disappointment. What did I think? He would take my hand and kiss it? Say I look beautiful? If he does not feel this way, why should he perform to my childish expectations? Kylah's hand flutters to her midriff and she can feel her cold fingers against her flesh. "I know it is formal, but... I was taught to dress for dinner. Especially when one is in a new environment, or a guest, or with a special person... someone one wishes to impress." Kylah looks hopefully at Velir, wishing he could be made to understand she wore this, that she bought this, entirely for him. But she cannot reveal such a thing, not in front of T'Var, not even in front of Rangin if he would only mock her lightly. And now the others are coming this way too, she notices from behind Rangin's shoulder. She can say nothing personal with Collins nearby.

Before they are too close, she adds: "But you do not need to disparage what you wear. You seem fit for any occasion no matter how you are dressed. I am not so fortunate."

Looking away toward T'Var once Collins, Delaney and Graham approach, she attempts to change the subject. "So--so then you two do not agree on the benefits of the spores despite your visiting the same places? I cannot decide. Of the several guests to whom I've spoken, there are some hints that it is far too easy to let oneself keep taking the treatment. The man I am seeing tonight is a perfect example. He seems willing to stay indefinitely no matter how much it costs him. It is true he has the means, and I suppose if it makes one happy... Nevertheless, that is one of the things I wish to determine tonight." She thinks of Deschamps. "The last man I met, there is no doubt he benefits from the treatment. He was so happy and kind, and very friendly to me... Extremely so." She almost smiles at the memory.

"But he was not wealthy. He had to save every penny to return to this spa. Would this money have been better spent elsewhere? I do not know. One may say the same thing of casinos or bars. However, we are not being asked to judge a casino or bar. The spores are a very new treatment and I suspect it is better to err on the side of caution. Do you agree, doctor? Especially since we have not felt the effects ourselves."

Kylah knows she is not being truthful. She did feel the effects, at least in the induction room. And again when Deschamps was so close to her. But those were isolated incidents, passed along to her remotely, passively. The emotional equivalent of hearsay. It must be an entirely different matter to be fully under the influence of the spores. She cannot imagine such happiness. If such a treatment could erase her fears and anger and disappointment? Offered the same opportunity the guests have, she is not certain she would refuse.

"To be honest," T'Var says, "I do not believe we have gained any useful information from the guests -- or the staff."

The doctor looks around at the assembled group. "Those under the influence of the spores are certainly satisfied. And the staff wants to make a good impression for us."

As Collins and Graham approach, she overhears T'Var's comment. "I'm inclined to agree, Doctor. But let's wait until we get a full security report. Ensign Graham seems to have stumbled upon something." She turns towards Graham and makes a presenting motion, indicating he should fill the others in.

What the flaming fu...? Graham thinks as he approaches the group and the fact fully registers that that Kylah is dressed for the evening in a couple of cocktail napkins held together with string. Well she does look good, he starts to think and then catches himself: And how would you feel, Booker, about a knuckle-dragging mouth breather your age eyeing Elizabeth in an outfit like that? Then: Good god, does Elizabeth wear outfits like that? He realizes that if she did, he'd likely be the last person to know.

He briefly wonders how T'Var feels about this situation, but reminds himself that the Vulcan physician surely has better control over her emotions that he would in her shoes--and of course, Kylah's meeting a dude for dinner so there's no reason to be jealous in any event.

Distracted, he then remembers what he said earlier: old guys like me ought to set a better example.

He fixes his eyes unshakably on Kylah's face and tries to do his best impersonation of the grizzled officer who helped calm him down before his first undercover mission--he'd probably been about the same age as Kylah.

"You have your sidearm ah, handy...ah, somewhere, right, like we discussed?" he says, trying to sound calm and encouraging.

While he's waiting for her to reply, his eyes move only to flick over toward Collins as it suddenly clicks that the lieutenant was gesturing toward him.

Graham's, uh, admiration of Kylah is not lost on Collins. Inwardly she roars with laughter. Outwardly her expression is unchanged.

Not so fortunate was Kylah's response. Did she really consider herself so badly dressed that this was necessary to catch someone's eye. She'd actually looked more beautiful in her uniform, but this outfit and the last one were certainly revealing her inner, and outer, Elasian. Wasn't that her intention? To show how desirable and alluring she was?

Perhaps Rangin would ask her later what she meant by it, but with others around, it wasn't the time.

It's also obvious the others don't share his feeling about the resort, being nothing more than a resort. No hidden evil addictions, just the wealthy begin more privileged than others. And that was still the same the universe over.

Rangin waits to see what the news from Graham is, noticing his glance at Kylah's attire as well.

Kylah nods to Delaney and Graham, avoiding Collins as best she can. She cannot gauge Delaney's expression--considering his obvious admiration of Fastolfe, what a woman wears is possibly of little consequence to him. But Graham seems to be registering a cocktail of disapproval and arousal, which makes Kylah want to hide behind the front desk as it reminds her so much of her uncle--except Aldaan would have added greed and entitlement to the mix, making it all so much worse.

"My phaser is in my purse, along with my communicator, Mr. Graham, though I am sure there will be no need for it," Kylah murmurs, looking down at her gleaming bronze bag and clutching the straps. She does not refer to her knife, firstly because she has never officially reported possessing it, and second because drawing attention to how easily the knife could be accessed will only point out how easily anyone might slip one's hand into her dress. Not that such a thing will occur tonight, but considering what Graham might think after the Ferguson incident...

She falls silent and waits to hear of the security problem.

"Right," Graham mumbles quickly. "Always best to do things by the numbers--I'm sure Lt. Collins already went over protocols for operating undercover in detail."

Speaking of whom, he thinks, putting two and two plus the awkward silence together, he turns in the direction of her gesture. He wants to preface his report with a disclaimer: look people, if you had a daughter exactly Kylah's age you'd be a little distracted too...Does Elizabeth in fact wear outfits like this? He supposes he'd feel better if she were going on dates with a phaser in her purse--unlikely, although it strikes him that maybe he should look into that. He starts feeling some anxiety: his assumption that Elizabeth was safe and sound at school on Earth provided some minimal excuse for his dereliction of duty as a father. Now he fears she's wandering around unarmed in something approaching underwear in clubs filled with lecherous hobgoblin-esque amalgams of rich jackasses like Fastolfe and half the scumbags he's arrested in his career...and I'm fifty goddamned light years away, what the hell am I doing?

He takes a deep breath. "Right, sorry," he says to the group. He tries to keep his voice quiet enough that others in the lobby can't overhear. "So it turns out Miss Hsu's husband Lionel is chief of security. After my, ah, discussion of the knife in front of Wilson I figured she might pass on membership in the Booker Charles Graham fan club, but they both seemed more open when he wasn't around."

"They told us--" he gestures toward Delaney, "that earlier today someone tried to remotely access the resort's security systems. Encrypted, via subspace--no compromise that they detected, and it's the first time that they know of. Source could have been anywhere from local to a couple light years away. They were willing to accept help from the Yorktown in systems monitoring and tracking any further attempts. Vargas is setting that up with Hsu."

He raises two fingers. "Two things occurred to me--one, if WR&R loses this concession, somebody else gets it. That's incentive for some corp to mess with them while we're here. The one that worries me though," he continues, lowering his voice slightly, "is any connection to the Admiral. As head bean counter at Starfleet he could've led an investigation that cost some crooked industrialist or smuggling cartel billions." He glances at Collins. "Now that he's all spored up I'm not sure he'd appreciate being asked if he has any enemies, but maybe we can check his records..." He pauses. For a moment he's truly angry at himself: I should have stayed on Hardin like ugly on an ape this whole time, he thinks ruefully. "Ah, and maybe we should keep closer tabs on him now."

"I'd suggested body guards before the mission started and was shot down. But yeah, we should keep an eye on him. And his aide." Collins is feeling rather disconnected on the whole, but does her best to maintain the illusion that she knows what she's doing. "Has anyone spoken to either of them since the sporing?"

Kylah nods at Graham's report. Such machinations are bread and butter to how she was raised. "The Admiral's position as comptroller should also be noted considering our own role here. If something were to happen to him at this resort, I doubt Starfleet would be inclined to extend the contract. That combines both theories. The timing of his vacation is... odd."

Her mind races. Why did she not consider the strangeness of the timing before? Why is someone in charge of monitoring such contracts staying at the resort when the contracts are due? Is this not a clear conflict of interest, considering the possibility of undue influence--especially if the spores give one an exaggerated sense of peace and well-being?

She pushes the thought aside when Collins speaks. The proof that the mission leader hasn't been in touch with the Admiral gives Kylah a bit of self-righteous pleasure. Now she doesn't feel as bad about reporting her own activities just now at the front desk. At least it will be more proof of who is doing her job here.

"Even without knowing of the security breach I was concerned whether any of us had been in contact with the Admiral. As soon as I arrived at the lobby, I asked the front desk about him, and was told he seems to have had no problems thus far," she says with a nod toward the clerk. "I then took the opportunity to relay a message to the Admiral, a simple reminder that we remain here at his service, and to please be in contact with preferably Lieutenant Collins, or me as communications officer if need be, should he require any assistance."

Kylah shrugs, somewhat defiant. "Of course that does not supercede your own important work, Mr. Graham, in enhancing vigilance. But at a bare minimum, I felt making our presence known might be beneficial."

At least the junior members of the team are doing their duty, she thinks while keeping her gaze firmly on Graham--and away from Collins.

This time Graham doesn't have to concentrate to keep his eyes on Kylah's. He's seen any number of young officers in his long career ranging from the average in appearance to the sexy to the downright hideous or frightening--how they looked didn't matter, how well they did their duty did. She deserves to be treated accordingly. And he's oddly, but meaningfully consoled a bit: so what if Lizzy goes out in dresses made of tinsel and rubber bands? Like her mother, she was always smarter than me. Probably Kylah is too. They'll be OK. He gives her a professional nod of approval and another little but sincere thumbs up.

He nods to Collins as well. "I would have suggested the same thing, L-T." He shakes his head. "Impolitic to send so much firepower, I'm sure." He shrugs and gives her a little encouraging gesture too. "Well, we'll just have to make do. Maybe my new buddy Hsu can help us out with closer surveillance."

Graham chuckles. "I figure Wilson's most interested in not causing any complaints due to 'intrusive' security--but if anything goes bad, Wilson will have every opportunity to put the blame on security for screwing up. But if he ever needs to look for another job, Mr. Hsu's got to have his record as a security chief look solid."

The front desk clerk tells Kylah (before she meets the rest of the landing party), "I'll be glad to pass that message along to Adm. Hardin, ma'am." She makes some notes on a comm screen and looks up with a smile. "Done."

Delaney gives Kylah's dress a discreet and appreciative looking-over but tries not to be too obvious about it. He clears his throat and says, "I was just telling Booker, it can't be coincidence that someone's trying to hack into - or even take control of - the resort's security on the same day the Yorktown arrived."

An interesting situation thinks Rangin with plenty of possibilities and he decides that the best thing to do in this situation is for Collins to earn her pay as the person in charge. After all, she is the leader, its her role to take charge and she should be able to do it. It's doing her a favour in making her take responsibility, especially if Vargas is resigning in the near future.

"Sir", says Rangin looking directly at Collins, "What would you like us to do?"

"We'll do shifts. Rangin and Graham, you take the first shift. Delaney and I will relieve you at 0400. Then T'Var and Kylah will take over at 1200 tomorrow."
So, yay, you made a decision. Big whoop.
"During your shift, you'll stay here at the spa, keep your eyes open, and try to make contact with either the Admiral or his aide, or both, at least once." She turns to T'Var and Delaney "Ensign Kylah has already made dinner arrangements. Where do you two want to eat?"
Then to Rangin and Graham "We'll see you at shift change."

Kylah glances at the others, then returns to Collins in disbelief. Can the woman not even tell time?

"I beg your pardon, sir, but it is only nearly six now. Perhaps I miscounted, but I believe you have put Ensign Rangin and Ensign Graham on a ten-hour night shift without any preparation, including the opportunity to have their meal as planned. Might you not begin this schedule after dinner, at least? Surely waiting two more hours, if you ascertain that the Admiral is well--and perhaps Mr. Graham might arrange coverage for this gap with resort security--will not cause a problem.

"Further, what will those of us not 'on shifts' be doing? And may I suggest that we meet at breakfast to organize and report as necessary? By working as a group we might be able to fill in what others might have missed, rather than relying on... without leaving gaps in our intelligence."

She does her best not to sound icy, but she has lost what little patience she has left. This arrogant human is trying to tell her she has issues? The woman is playing dress-up as an officer.

"Ensign Kylah, I have been forgiving of you blurting out the obvious for the whole of this mission. But enough is enough." Collins wants to shout at Kylah and beat the living daylights out of her, but keeps her voice steady and her posture firm. "Of course the first shift will start after dinner. I didn't think that needed to be stated since we'd already agreed to have dinner. But I assumed that Rangin and Graham would want to eat light and confer without mundane dinner conversations distracting them."

Kylah breathes deeply, infuriated. An incompetent and a liar. She cannot believe the others will not see this. "Without my 'blurting the obvious,' you--you would--" Realizing she is perilously near losing control, she has to clamp her lips shut for a second before continuing in a low, dry voice. "I retract that. My apologies, sir. I was very wrong to have suggested you did not account for every eventuality. Clearly my inexperience has been manifest throughout this mission. I appreciate your forebearance."

She turns to the others. "Enjoy your meals," she says shakily, aiming the words more at the general vicinity of her crewmates rather than anyone in particular, and begins to walk off.

Rangin blinks at the completely unexpected response to his question. Not asking for options, but immediately swinging into a defensive frame of mind and thinking only of protection. "Sir, if the situation is as serious as you believe it to be, requiring us to maintain a 24 hour presence in the resort, would it not be worth asking both the Yorktown and the research station for assistance."

He turns to Graham. "Mr Graham what, in your long experience, should we be looking out for in the resort. Finding the Admiral should be easy, we merely tour the restaurants to find the one he is dining in and make contact that way. But I am unsure what signs would be noticeable when I am not even sure what I am supposed to be looking for."

Rangin maintains his outwardly calm composure in addressing his colleagues.

Graham's a bit taken aback by the heated discussion, but first things first. "Hey, hold on a second, Ensign--" he says to Kylah, holding up hand to show Rangin he heard him but needs a minute. "If we, um, want to all discuss options," he continues, glancing toward Collins and hoping she doesn't feel he's out of line, "before we break up, I think there are a few things that need to be done over the next few hours." He clears his throat.

"The bottom line is we'll all feel really bad in more ways than one if anything bad were to happen to Admiral Hardin--maybe this sounds callous, but I'll call it like it is, I'll feel worse if anything were to happen to him than some of the other guests." Like Fastolfe, he thinks, but for Delaney's sake doesn't mention anyone by name. "But any connection between the intrusion attempt and the old guy is still just a pretty thin theory. So it'd be great if somebody could do some background digging on him. And for a couple of us to talk to him...even if we don't pry, we should find out where he's staying. If we can talk to Lionel Hsu maybe he can set us up with some kind of solid remote surveillance." He shrugs. "I'm as up for an all nighter as the next person if we need to pull 'em, but those of us with, ah, 'vast experience,'" he says glancing at Rangin. "Are getting a little old to do it unnecessarily."

He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts: he's surprised some kind of routine for check-ins by Kylah hasn't already been worked out--but then it looks like she and Collins are at odds about something. "Um, lieutenant," he says to Collins, "since you suggested Rangin and I take first shift we can look for Hardin and Hsu. And, ah..." He looks at Kylah. "We should have a set schedule for check-ins via communicator..." He points at himself and then Science Guy. "Periodically with me and Rangin while we're out and about should do the trick." He pauses and then looks back at Collins, shrugging and trying to put a light-hearted touch on something that's seems essential to him if a team member is working solo undercover. He says a bit jokingly, "It really wouldn't do now for us to all go our separate ways and find out tomorrow morning that Ensign Kylah's missing in action."

"Right. New plan. Hourly check-ins. And Delaney, you do the background check on Hardin and his aide. I'll do first shift with Rangin, T'Var, you work with Delaney, and Graham - just be available if someone," Collins looks towards Kylah, "needs help"

Kylah whips her head around to look at Rangin, whose calming demeanor should, usually, assist her--but now she is just too embarrassed at being upbraided yet again for making suggestions that the Lieutenant should have thought of herself.

Then Graham's words arrest her further. He is, not surprisingly, far more prepared and detailed at issuing orders. She doubts Collins will have a problem with all that Graham has 'blurted' despite his having completely overridden the Lieutenant's orders far more than Kylah's simple suggestions did.

She listens patiently; none of it sounds wrong. Until his remark about her going missing in the morning. Just what is he expecting? And of course, Collins switches direction and listens patiently to every word from Graham's lips.

"Your cautions are noted," she says tightly. "However. I must remind you I am going to dinner with a known, repeat guest who has been here for many months, at a public restaurant located in this very building. He will then take me on a tour of the resort's amenities, which are hardly unpopulated or remote. What precisely do you think will happen?"

She abruptly lifts her hand. "No. Do not answer that, please. I wish to be able to keep my dinner down. I shall ask this instead. How do you expect me to learn how guests see this resort, to make this man at ease, if I am to check in every hour like a child leaving home for the first time?"

Kylah raises her chin defiantly. "Tell me, Mr. Graham. Would you ask a male officer to communicate every hour and risk losing the confidence of an interview subject? For that is all he is. Perhaps you forget that my purpose in this dinner is in learning how addictive these spores are, how much autonomy guests actually have under their treatment, and to identify how the resort treats guests when they are not in Starfleet uniform." She looks at T'Var and Delaney with some hope of their understanding her point of view, then back at Graham. "This man is not some sort of suspect, he is a potential victim--if the spores are indeed being misused to drain his bank account. I simply cannot gain his trust by calling in every sixty minutes as if I believe him an escaped criminal--or as if you believe me to be one." She folds her arms across her chest. "A far more reasonable request would be that I communicate when we have left the restaurant, and then when I am to return to the station."

She walks slowly up to Graham until she is inches away, her chest up against his, looking up at him with as cool a gaze as possible. After a pause, her hand suddenly dips into one of the bare areas of her dress and in a flash her knife now presses itself against Graham's belly. "What do you think, Mr. Graham?" she whispers, keeping the knife between their stomachs so only he can feel it, much less see it. "Do you think I can handle myself?"

As I've written repeatedly before, Starfleet parlance is "watches," not "shifts." Thanks.

Delaney says, a little crossly, "Could everyone just calm down, please?" He says to Graham and Kylah, in particular, "Is there some problem here, Ensigns?"

Kylah secretly returns her knife to its hilt with a swift, smooth gesture of her hand and looks steadily at Graham with a raised eyebrow. By the time she turns around again her hands are clasped in front of her. "No, Lieutenant Delaney. There is not," she says in a cool voice.

Well this is unexpected, Graham thinks as Kylah gets in his face. Her intensity and the fire in her eyes as she looks up at him reminds him of arguments with Elizabeth. Of course, there are also differences: there had been many, many such confrontations, but during none of them had his daughter ever been practically naked and pressing her breasts against his chest. She had also never been carrying a shiv (at least to his knowledge)—Graham’s impressed, and also a little entertained, by Kylah’s hidden knife. Assuming she knows how to use it—which he does—he gives her credit for packing a little something extra. But that’s about the only thing he feels good about.

So maybe this is what’s going on, he thinks: she feels like she needs to prove something. That’s a damn dangerous state of mind--he suspects this is related to the conflict between her and Collins. But regardless, he also keys in on one more difference between arguing with Lizzie and the present moment: he didn’t know much about being a good father, but he does know a lot about security.

When Kylah steps back and Delaney gets pissed, Graham glances at the engineer and shakes his head just slightly.

He turn back to Kylah and holds her eyes—wanting to prove something is a bad head space to be in, but if she’s gotten there because she has been or at least feels she has been treated with insufficient respect he can start to turn that around right now. He lays even odds she craps all over what he has to say, but he resolves to tell her the unedited straight-up truth about where he’s coming from—what he would say to his daughter. What he would say to a son. What he would say to a security officer assigned to him as a mentee.

“I did my first undercover assignment when I was about your age,” he says, slowly, quietly, and evenly. “I wanted to prove myself, make my bones as the old saying goes—I volunteered for all the most dangerous work—smugglers, slavers, real bad news.” He nods a little. “Like you, I questioned how you could keep things natural and still make time for status checks. So…” he spreads his hands a little—staying well below the level of her cleavage. “I didn’t make it a priority. One night I missed three consecutive windows for checking in.” He frowns a little. “So the CO pulled the plug—broadcast ‘officer needs assistance’ and the cavalry came transporting and door-kicking into the compound we were in from every direction.” He shakes his head. “Blew our case. I was so damn mad—I confronted him, said I was about to get inside the inner circle, that I wasn’t afraid to take the risk, to do what it took…that I could handle it—or die trying.”

He blows out a long breath. “He said to me: I’m sure you’re very brave, and very capable. But do you know why the good guys win and the bad guys lose—not on each given day, not necessarily in the short run, but in the long run? Because the people we hunt are animals. They’ll as soon kill you as look at you, but they’ll also abandon or turn on their own in a second if it’s in their interest, Life is cheap to them.” He steeples his hands in front of his mouth for a moment. “And then he said: It’s not cheap to us. We take care of each other. We don’t play fast and loose, no matter how convenient it may be or how safe it may seem.”

Graham nods. “Now, sure, it’s damn unlikely this guy is an animal or a criminal. Sure we can be sensible about how we handle status checks. But we don’t know a thing for certain. And I am sure you can handle yourself very, very well—you deserve a lot of credit for setting this up.” He pauses for a moment. “But I’ve beamed more than enough very capable young officers—male and female--back to a ship in a bag for one lifetime. At times and places where we never thought it could happen.”

He leans in very close to Kylah. “If you want to show me how well you use your…ah, special equipment, name the time and I’ll meet you in the Yorktown gym,” he says very quietly and with genuine respect, then he draws back a little and raises his voice a bit and speaks very slowly. “But out here we are all on the same team—the only competition that matters is how mission by mission, a good team prevents good people from getting hurt.”

Kylah looks up at this man, so obviously experienced, so used to the situations he can comprehend: bad criminals; good officers. His quiet tone only exacerbates her vulnerbility brought on by the cruel words spoken to her. She cannot be angry with him, but her frustration makes her tremble and she fights to control it.

"Mr. Graham," she says very quietly. "Yours will be the voice listened to at the end of this. Mine will not. No matter how much reason I speak, it is not heard. So I ask you to be my voice, and for that to happen, I must beg you to hear me.

"There are two arguments against your words. First, you speak of smugglers and slavers. Do you not see the difference? I am meeting a man who is not only not even a suspect of such things, but he is being treated with spores that very specifically are proven to induce passivity and bliss. They are antithetical to violence. How can you believe I would be in danger from such a person?"

She lowers her tone further until the world seems to consist of only Booker Graham and Kylah, and stares up at him as intently as she knows how.

"And second... we are not a team. We are people randomly assigned to a ship. People who can do just as much harm as any outsider, no matter what Starfleet might wish us to believe." Kylah finds her voice quavering and she must try her best to prevent the wounds of the last two days from stabbing her all over again. "You saw just how little being on the same 'team' mattered in the rec room the other day. And whether you believe it or not, I have had more proof of it here, on this mission, less than an hour ago. Maybe it is my fault," she admits, looking down for a moment. "I believe it very well may be. I do not seem equipped to inspire collegiality in others. I am treated as a mere ornament and my best advice is dismissed."

Kylah blinks, hoping she can stave off tears. "No, I do not have faith in my teammates, and they certainly do not have faith in me. And I believe I will not have a third mission if I cannot complete a simple interview on my own. Perhaps even if I can." She shakes her head and whispers: "Please, Mr. Graham. Recommend a reasonable check-in schedule such as I have requested. She will listen to you. Please."

Holy freaking crap, Graham thinks, what the hell is going on here? Part of him wants to pull the plug on the whole thing--not because Kylah's arguments are wrong. He concedes they are valid. But unit cohesion is in the toilet...

He realizes he needs to make a call: she's almost certainly right, there's a one in a million chance something goes south. And when you make the call wrong, he thinks with a pang, you know what it feels like, don't you Booker? But should this young officer's pride suffer for your doubts and your guilt?

Very slowly, deliberately, and clearly he says "I trust your judgment and your analysis of this particular meeting, Ensign Kylah." He glances at Collins and then Delaney. "If it's my call, check in at any change of location...give me destination and route if you can before heading to the next one. I'm sure you'll find a way." He pauses and lowers his voice. "And, if anything feels weird you hit the panic button. I don't have the rank anymore to order you to do it. I'm asking you to do it--as...as a friend."

Kylah wants to grab Graham's hand in appreciation for his support, but knows she cannot be so demonstrative--she will look like a girl clutching onto her father, or a woman flirting with a lover. Either one is hardly the impression she wishes to give. Instead she just looks up at Graham with heartfelt relief that someone is finally taking her seriously--and even calling her a friend--and murmurs: "Thank you, Mr. Rangin. I--I believe that is sensible."

As she turns to face Collins again, still upset, shaken and defiant but at least now feeling her reason has provided her with some ally, she catches Rangin's eye. What are his thoughts? She wishes she could take him aside and explain why this matters so much to her.

Rangin is not precisely sure what has happened between Kylah, Collins and Graham during this visit, and he's not sure he wants to know. Graham, at least, is showing his experience and has already got Collins to change her mind, as if she had managed to make it up in the first place. Old dog, old tricks, really.

And now, Collins wanted to carry out the first watch with him. He was a Biologist, not a security officer. Did she really think he would as capable as some of the crew from the Yorktown if there was such an emergency. The other matter that appeared to have vanished from everyone's minds is the report they were supposed to be doing on the resort. Although everyone else seemed certain that WR&R were pulling a fast one, even Kylah seemed sure on that point and was going to dinner to prove it. As for Collins, perhaps he could find out what was on her mind. She had been fidgety during the chess match only last night, then fine this morning and now something appeared to be bugging her.

Besides, he wondered if anyone had considered that the attempt might have been made by the Yorktown just to test out what is going on. Nah, leave it to the experts, Rangin thought.

Shame really, with all this going on, he wasn't going to be going hiking tomorrow with T'Var and the Gunarssons. He'd been looking forward to that.

As Kylah finishes talking to Graham, Rangin sees her turn and smile at him. It's not a happy smile, more one from someone who needs reassurance or acceptance. He smiles a warm smile back at her and gives her a nod, that she will hopefully recognise as being on her side.

Kylah is so surprised by Rangin's warm smile that she nearly returns it. But just as swiftly as the instinct flashes within her, she realizes that if Collins sees her connecting with the men in such a way, the Lieutenant will take it as more proof that she's trying to curry favor in an inappropriate manner. She can only let her eyes speak her feelings for her.

She then looks forward at Collins. "It is your decision," she says shakily. "I hope you will consider your security colleague's advice on the matter. I must leave soon, for my appointment is almost past its time."

"Graham's suggestions are valid," Collins feels defeated and alone. She wants another dose. She wants to be in her own room, in her own bed, where her mind can travel unencumbered. I am not ready for command. Why did I think I was. What the hell does the Captain see in me that the other rightfully don't? "Ensign Kylah, you are dismissed to enjoy your dinner interview. The rest of us will figure out a workable schedule over dinner, and update you when we have it. Do stay in touch, though, and don't be too proud to call for help if it's needed." She looks at her team one at a time, finally resting her eyes on Graham. With her eyes, she thanks him for his defense of her, and for being the voice of reason.

Kylah thanks Collins, says goodnight to the others, and hurries away from the lobby without further ado. As soon as she turns a corner she has to stop and lean a hand on the wall for support. Despite having prevailed she feels little pleasure in it--as she suspected, it was only Graham's words that Collins listened to, not her own. Kylah's gratitude toward Graham cannot make her feel better about this; yet again, an older man holds the reins over her activities.

She closes her eyes, trying to get her spriits in a better place for her engagement this evening. But everything has been such a struggle, it always has been, and her whole body feels like one big knot of sore muscle. She simply cannot erase the memory of her confrontations with Collins.

Kylah runs a weary hand over her eyes. The irony of her pushing to be allowed to attend the dinner unencumbered by onerous requirements is that she does not even wish to attend it at all. She would far rather be in a quiet restaurant with Velir Rangin and listen to his good sense and calming voice than anything right now. And to feel his hand covering hers in warmth and friendship, and possibly more...

But that will likely not happen. He does not see her this way. He likely sees her as Graham does, a child who must be placated and at best treated with sympathy. All her hopes earlier were only a silly fantasy.

Kylah swallows back the embarrassment of false hopes and, girdng herself, walks to Giuseppe's.

Once Kylah has left, Rangin turns to Collins. "Well Sir, if we are going to be on first watch, food sounds like a great idea." His face becomes thoughtful as he poses his next question. "I'll be honest, security detail like this is not something I have really ever done before, though allnighters are common enough in a lab waiting for some experiment to finish, so I'm looking forward to learning something new."

As Kylah walks away, it occurs to Graham to say, "Just remember, act like you don't know me when I show up as your waiter...breadsticks anyone?" That would have been a joke--but under the circumstances he decides she probably wouldn't find it funny, so he remains silent.

When Collins looks toward him he gives her a nod and a little encouraging fist pump. Everybody has a bad day, he thinks--the key is holding it together nonetheless.

Kylah, exhausted and uncertain how she'll survive this dinner after what she's been through today, enters Giuseppe's. The restaurant is very old-fashioned, with red-and-white-checked tablecloths, candles stuck atop wicker-wrapped wine bottles, and what appears to be a low white tin ceiling. Only three other tables are occupied at the moment. White-aproned waiters stand attentively by.

Jan Švehla, dressed elegantly but casually, is already seated in a cozy booth for two. He stands as Kylah approaches. "So good to see you again! I'm glad you could meet me for dinner. May I call you Kylah? Please, call me Jan."

Kylah raises her hand to shake his. "Of course, thank you for inviting me, Jan," she says with as pleasant an air as she can fake. "Although I fear I may have dressed inappropriately for the venue." And she had been so proud about the dress. Now she cannot help but doubt everything about herself, the dress included.

She sits and examines the attractive man near her. He seems in an even better mood than before, and despite everything, it is infectious. Kylah remembers her reaction to the guests' spore-enhanced emotions during the introduction phase and wonders if Jan, too, is affecting her. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing to allow it--just to ease her own still-fractious emotions so she can get through tonight. She manages to smile.

"It is a pleasure to be off-duty at last," she says, although she's really still working. "The resort offers so much, but during our duty hours we cannot experience it as a guest does, neither the spore induction nor any of the recreational activities. I hope you will consider showing me whatever you like best."

"Certainly," he says, grinning, as a waiter approaches. "You could probably go places behind the scenes that I couldn't, but whatever I can show you would be my pleasure. And please, don't apologize for your dress! You look delightful. It suits you better than red, if I may say."

"Good evening, madame, and sir," the waiter says. "Something to drink? An appetizer?"

Švehla says to Kylah, "The calamari is quite good. Would you like to try it?" He turns and says to the waiter, "I'll have a glass of the house red, please."

The compliment about the dress doesn't remove her worries that Collins purposely misguided her. When he makes his behind-the-scenes comment, she reassures him. "That is precisely what I do not wish to see. We have been taken on 'official' tours all day. I hoped you might show me a more personal view--so we might know something of a guest's true experience. I will likely never have an opportunity to visit here as you do." Or wish to. If it weren't for these dinner plans, she would be happy to escape this planet at once.

The waiter's arrival makes her hesitate and listen to Jan's suggestion. Kylah has never heard of calamari; probably one of the boiled wheat dishes common in this Earth region's fare. "I shall follow your lead," she says with a nod to the waiter. "And may I have a glass of white wine, please?" White seems to have less of an effect on her.

The waiter gives a friendly nod and leaves.

A thought occurs to Kylah that she did not hear brought up by the medical staff. "Forgive me, Jan, I know so little about this treatment... does alcohol cause any problems with people under the influence of the spores? Does it enhance the effects in any way?"

He thinks a moment. "I don't think the spores change your reaction to alcohol at all. At least, it doesn't for me. I can't say I've read any medical studies or anything - but then again, I haven't gone out of my way to get drunk here, either. Two or three glasses of wine is usually my limit." He smiles and leans closer. "If you don't my asking... you're Elasian, right? I've never met one before. How do you like Starfleet? I thought about signing up when I was a lot younger. Why did you join?"

Once he draws nearer, Kylah's eyes widen slightly. A sudden flow of happiness, of calmness, has radiated toward her. She's still making no attempt to use her empathic abilities, but his emotions are pushing toward her nevertheless. The result is not as intensely intoxicating as when she was studying the group of inductees back in the introduction room, but it's very potent.

This afternoon, T'Var had helped her remove herself from the situation so as to shake off the effects. Right now, the feelings washing over her are so needed, such a relief after her horrible day, she cannot produce the will to push them away. Against her better judgment, she does not.

His mention of her race reaches through her slight mental haze. She is taken aback. "Yes, I am from Elas. I--I have never known anyone to identify my background correctly," she murmurs in wonder. And there's some pleasure at the thought that for once, her background is unquestioned. She smiles. The emotions flowing from him to her are like a gift of a warm blanket to a frozen stranger. She doesn't think to ask him how he knows she's from Elas. She's too busy trying to come up with a good response to his question about her career choice. She certainly cannot answer honestly.

She says, "I suppose I saw Starfleet as a great challenge. There are so many different people, and rules, and ways of thinking, it took a while for me to get used to it all. I am not certain I have adjusted even yet. I am not... I do not fully fit in." The words come out automatically and yet they are not bitter, as they would have been if spoken immediately after her confrontation with Collins. She doesn't even regret them. Do spores make it difficult to lie? Or rather, do they make one want to be honest? I did not think I would be this affected by him, she thinks in somewhat dazed curiosity, glancing down at her hand resting on the table and noticing that it's not very far from his. Not far at all. In fact... but no. She has to concentrate in order to pull it slightly backward. I...I must be careful.

"But I am very glad I joined, as there are people I would never have met without it." Kylah thinks of Velir Rangin and her voice softens, because now when she looks at Jan she imagines Velir. "Perhaps... perhaps that is why I joined. To find new people. And have experiences I have never had before." She glances down shyly for a moment before continuing. "Why did you not join, Jan? You are a man of leisure, I believe you said? Or do you have a vocation?"

The waiter brings their wines, and he raises his in a toast to her. They clink their glasses together and drink, and then he says, "There just never seemed to be a good time to join. You know? There was always something else that, right at that moment, I was more interested in doing." He smiles wryly. "I'm also not all that good at following the rules, and friends of mine in Starfleet tell me that's kind of a big thing. As for what I do now, I'm an investment banker - mostly colonial bonds, communications and timber. Pretty boring stuff, actually, but I do all right."

Kylah has to nod--not at his calling his job boring, although she always has found financial matters overwhelming--but at his pronouncement of how many rules Starfleet has. "Yes, Starfleet is not a place for one who cannot follow the rules. Or who cannot lead, for that matter," she adds with a hint of mischievous honesty that again takes her by surprise. It is not like her to speak so out of turn to a stranger, even if she is upset at Collins. Or was. Right now the argument feels very distant. She slowly finishes her glass of wine and sets it down, and this time her fingers do accidentally touch Jan's. The sensation shocks her and she breathes in quickly, savoring it. If only he were Velir, this evening would be so perfect... She cannot even close her eyes and pretend. She remembers very well how Velir's hand felt when she held onto him back on shore leave, when she squeezed his fingers at the Captain's dinner. Jan does not feel the same. His hands are larger but his skin is cooler. Velir is very warm...

She pulls her hand back and shakes her head to clear it and waits for the appetizers to arrive. When the calamari proves to be a kind of marine animal, Kylah is greatly pleased, and does not even think before picking the ring up in her fingers the Elasian way and tasting it with a careful bite. "This is delicious," she says after swallowing. Everything smells and tastes very vivid. The wine, the light batter on the ringed flesh, the hint of the sea on her tongue. She licks the salty taste from her fingers, closing her eyes in pleasure, but then suddenly remembers herself. With a rueful smile, she reaches for the napkin on her lap.

"Do you meet many people at the resort?" she asks Jan, unable to tell if he was offended by her Elasian table manners. In truth, she's feeling, at long last, too good to be embarrassed. "I forget if this is your first visit. Are there social events where single guests may meet someone to... well, to have dinner with? Or dance? Is there even dancing here?" The thought of dancing while "on" spores piques her curiosity. If tastes and scents are so powerful, not to mention the mere brush of her fingers against his, being in someone's embrace must be almost... sinful. Kylah flushes and looks at her empty glass. She doesn't even remember drinking it.

"More wine?" he asks, noticing her empty glass but tactfully not saying anything about how quickly she drained it. "And yes, I've met some people here. There are some social events intended for singles, including dances, and I've been to a couple, but nobody's really caught my eye. I tend to keep to myself unless I feel particularly drawn to someone... like tonight." He looks her right in the eye and smiles.

"There may be much going on beneath the surface that we are not allowed to see," T'Var says with a sigh. "Mr. Delaney is correct. This is no coincidence."

"If you would not mind me asking sir", Rangin turns to Dr T'Var, "What exactly are you expecting to find out about this place? What will convince you either way whether this place is as genuine as it appears to be or whether there is something wrong?"

"Let's all discuss it over dinner. How does the OC3 Bistro sound to you guys?" Collins tries to sound upbeat.

Graham briefly considers strenuously objecting--which would also be a joke. But as with Kylah he concludes Collins probably isn't in the mood right now for that sort of humor and just nods.

Delaney says, "That'd be fine with me."

"Sounds good to me," answers Rangin, "that way I believe." he points down the hallway towards the restaurants.

The Yorktown's landing party, minus Kylah, is soon comfortably seated at the OC3 Bistro. You order your food, which is soon prepared and placed before you. Everything is just right, although Delaney finds his Pacifican shad is a little undercooked, and sends it back. The waiter is quite apologetic.

The restaurant is somewhat crowded, but you can't help but notice a group of four turtle-like Rigellians seated at a nearby table. They seem to be enjoying their food.

http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Rigellian

"So? What's your assessment so far?" Collins asks her tablemates

"We have been shown what the resort wants us to see," T'Var begins. "This, of course, is logical."

The doctor takes a bite of the turkey club she ordered. It is quite good, though perhaps in need of a bit more bacon and mayo. The rye bread is much too dry for the Vulcan's taste. She takes a sip of her water.

"We have witnessed several incidents which lead me to believe there are problems here. We must endeavor to dig deeper if we can."

Rangin is highly surprised by Collins question. It's probably the first sensible thing she has done since arriving on the planet. He's also surprised by T'Var tucking into a club sandwich as he thought all Vulcans were vegetarian. Oh well, live and learn.

"I don't believe this resort is anything more than a resort for the rich and famous to relax and enjoy themselves. It's a high price,so they can afford all the extras like the spore therapy. Agreed, we have been shown what the report more or less wants, but they have answered all our questions fully I believe. Will they go out of their way to make this as seamless as possible, of course, but they have admitted to issues which they, at least, appear to have resolved."

Rangin twirls an onion ring round one finger. "The only issue I have seen so far which could and should be of concern are both incidents with knives being brandish, the first of which does not reflect well on the resort, and the second does not reflect well on us. My opinion of course," he says fixing Collins and Graham with his gaze.

He takes a bite before continuing. "Other than that, I'm not sure what we are going to be looking for. Might be worth following up with the records to confirm that what they said happened actually happened. Although if they were any kind of outfit, those logs will match. So, as I asked earlier, what are we expecting to find or not?"

Rangin polishes off the rest of the onion ring.

Graham notices the hairy eyeball he gets from Rangin and swallows a bite of his tasty burger. His feels neither defensive, nor argumentative--on the one hand, Rangin expressed his point of view respectfully and in the right context, on the other Graham feels no need to apologize. He shrugs and replies amiably enough. "My take was Wilson's intention was to politely jerk us around while we're here and just as politely dismiss anything we had to say--counting on the fat that a low-level team of Starfleet dweebes--no disrespect, Lieutenants--would be unwilling to go actually go so far as to call renewing the contract into question. I felt we ought to plant a little doubt in his mind about that game plan." He glances at Collins briefly--then pauses for a moment and then gets a bit more serious.

"But see here's the thing--a place like this, they never want anything to tarnish their perfect image. At least from a security perspective, there's two ways you can do that--have things buttoned up tight and manage the fact that some rich jerks will get pissy when you scan their luggage or whatever, or let things slide on the front end and hope nothing bad will happen--like some ass packing a weapon going off on somebody--or cover it up when it happens. I'm feeling like either that's Wilson's MO, or maybe top management's and the guy's not so bad but just stuck dealing with it. So maybe this outfit is up to something fishy, maybe not--but the knife things worries me they're not as up to dealing with external threats as they should be, at the least." He rubs his jaw. "I guess you could argue it's not entirely our business--except we just dropped off an Admiral. Hell imagine what Orions or Klingons could make of this if they figured out to watch for times when flag officers or their families were soft targets for any mole or hired gun."

Jan's compliment seems to ring in the air while Kylah absorbs it. "You are very kind, but I cannot believe that you spend much time alone…" Her voice fades as she meets Jan’s shining blue gaze, which seems only inches away now. Has he moved nearer, or has she?

She doesn't feel like herself, certainly not the Kylah who walked in here, so frightened, sad, and weighed down by doubt. Now she's light as gossamer, her dark thoughts receding the closer she draws to Jan and his golden hair gleaming in the candlelight.

Her mind is lucid enough to know that it's his very proximity that's influencing her. Even without invoking her empathic powers, she cannot prevent herself from being affected by the spores she's mistrusted so much.

But how can anyone mistrust what feels so right? The warmth they provide reaches from Jan to surround her like a milky-smooth bath caressing her bare flesh. A miasma of pleasure and peace. What did he ask before? ‘More wine?’ Of what use would alcohol be now? Why would anyone need more than this?

And yet, as her fingertips try to cover the top of her glass to refuse more wine and land where his are already resting, a jolt goes through her--and suddenly she does need something more. Something her mind fights against, but her physical being… her body… is beginning to crave.

Kylah cannot help herself; she absently strokes his hand beneath hers. Her breathing quickens. Despite the delicious torpor taking over, warning bells are going off. Intellectually she knows something is wrong. It is the Sakathian onslaught all over again: her weak empathic control is dissolving the boundary between his feelings and hers.

She struggles to maintain focus on the mission. “Do you… do you feel no reason to return to Earth? Since you have a business, can you really stay away so long? I would be worried that the spores are… are not making me think rationally.”

Even as the words reflect her own concerns, her traitorous fingers roam across Jan’s skin as if they have a will of their own; she is in awe of how every normally subtle sensation has magnified. Without thought she entwines her fingers with his, needing to be surrounded by his strength.

Stop, stop this, it is inappropriate. Fighting her physical impulses, Kylah whispers, “Forgive me,” and tries to draw her hand away.

"I still don't think the resort's at much risk of attack from foreign powers," Delaney says thoughtfully, taking another bite of his now-well-cooked fish, returned with the murmured apologies of the waiter, "given how far inside the Federation it is, but I can definitely see the danger of a criminal gang or kidnappers striking here, given the clientele. And it's only smart to consider worst-case scenarios."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Švehla tells Kylah. His voice is quiet. He freely lets her pull her hand back, but leaves his atop the table. "My business is such that I can be away for awhile - not months and months, not forever, but longer than I had, perhaps, planned in the first place. I feel as rational as ever, and as far as I can tell I think just as clearly as ever; I'm just much happier and more relaxed than I usually am. It's funny, I know it's the spores that are making me this way - I know it intellectually, you see, but it doesn't bother me in the least, and it feels no less genuine or real. Does that make any sense at all?"

Kylah's mind is somewhat clearer without the physical bond, and she inhales deeply. "It makes some sense," she says slowly. "Perhaps it is--it would be--my nature to question what is real, and what the spores were telling me is real. But even if it were some sort of spell, I do not know if I would want to leave it."

She looks tenderly at him. She is grateful that she can experience the spores through him. As long as she can control herself, as she just did, there can be no harm.

"What I do not understand is... why should someone like you need them for happiness? I apologize, this may be too personal, but... you are successful, wealthy, healthy, and... and handsome. If it were me I would understand, the spores and the spa are an escape, as are the guests..." She shakes her head. "But what or whom do you seek?"

He looks down and shrugs. "I don't know, or I'm not sure, that I'm seeking anything, really, Kylah. I have a good life, and I know that." He looks up, and into her eyes again. "I'm happy, most days, and more fortunate than most, even in a free and prosperous society like the Federation. But... part of what my wealth gives me is the opportunity to try new things, to go places I've never been. A business associate had been here and told me all about it. She made me want to try it, too, and now that I have, I'm glad that I did."

"Plant a little doubt in his mind.", repeats Rangin dropping his voice slightly, "It's been a while since I heard threats of violence and intimidation called that. Coridan, a few street thugs setting up a protection racket. Do what we say and everything will be fine, Don't and who knows what mishaps might happen. It's bullying, pure and simple."

Rangin looks straight back at Graham, "Strange you know. the reason I joined Starfleet was to get away from people like that, that the Federation was better than that. Was I mistaken?"

"No. No, you weren't" Collins reassures Rangin "I'm sure what Graham meant was that we let Wilson know that the resort is under scrutiny; that the Federation is not going to blindly renew the contract. Not that the contract won't be renewed. It's like a physical. We're just here to make sure nothing has gone awry." She finishes her cola, and looks over at Graham. "Right?"

"Yeah," Graham replies dryly and a little absently to Collins. "Like a physical."

He tenses a little and lays both his hands flat on the table, dropping his eyes to look at them as he starts to talk. "'Do what we say or who knows what mishaps might happen...' Yeah, I know the type real well," he continues, looking up at Rangin. Graham shakes his head a little. "Wilson, Fastolfe, a 16 year-old wannabe Yakuza in New Tokyo, a trader salivating over how much he can pocket if he just ignores the fact that the cargo some Orion calling himself "Mr. Smith" wants him to move is people, not 'industrial parts' like it says on the manifest, whoever--they don't need to do what we say, and they don't need to wonder about 'mishaps.' They need know without question that when doing the wrong gets someone hurt, they are going to held accountable for it."

He looks back down at his hands and shrugs. Almost in a whisper he says "And that's the job right there."

And, he thinks, there's a very specific part of that job you haven't finished yet, isn't there, Booker?

Rangin fixes his gaze back across the table at Graham.

"It's not holding them accountable, its threatening to punish them, to hurt them, that's your idea of the job right there, because waving a knife under someone's nose isn't about making them aware of consequences of the law. You know what, you remind me of home. Making sure people were aware of what would happen if they didn't do the right thing. Right, being whatever some local politician decided was best for them. " Rangin keeps his voice level, low and firm, "and don't give me that, I've got loads of experience, you're just young and don't know anything, I grew up with it. Coridan is such a fun place."

Rangin taps on the table a few times, fingers drumming as he ponders his next words and then leans forward.

"You'll probably say that you did nothing wrong," Rangin turns to Collins at the side, "with respect, I'm saying its wrong," before turning back to Graham, "the question is, what do you want to do about it. We may not all be friends round the table, but we are all in the Federation and supposed to support each other, so think about it."

Rangin leans back and downs the rest of his coffee. "If you will excuse me, nature calls.", he addresses to the table and stands up, "I'm also going to do a quick check of the other restaurants to see if I can spot the Vice-Admiral or his Aide. I'll check in if I see him. Shouldn't take long, Back in 10 minutes or so." and he heads off towards the restrooms.

Kylah watches Jan intently--indeed, try though she might, she's hard-pressed to look away from him. She cannot tell if her empathic abilities are creating a bond between them or if the spores themselves are, or if it is simply that she feels friendship toward this stranger. She is losing her will to care.

"You have no idea how I envy you," she murmurs. "I have always been wealthy but it has not bought me any freedom. My family has power yet I have none. Of course I know I am far better off than so many people, it is churlish to complain when there are those suffering far more than I. Yet even so..." She lets her fingers brush the stem of the wine glass. "I thought joining Starfleet would show me a new path, one where I could be independent, but there are only more chains. There are so many ties on me now--my family, my government, Starfleet--I wish I could find some relief from them. Being with you, now, does help," Kylah adds hastily, "It helps tremendously. I do not fully understand how, although..."

She stops herself. She cannot mention the spores, because technically speaking she should not be able to experience them. She would have to reveal how she is being affected by them, and that she cannot do.

"Although it does not matter how," she finishes, shaking her head. "I just greatly appreciate the opportunity to be with you. But I know it will be fleeting. Dinner will end, and I will... I will not know this feeling again."

"I thought we were friends," Graham says a bit glumly, partly to Rangin's back as he walks away, partly to everyone around the table, partly to no one at all. He finds that last comment more biting than anything a xenobiologist has to say about his security practices, and his shoulders slump a little as he picks up the last of his tasty burger to finish before it gets cold.

T'Var finishes her sandwich as she watches Rangin leave.

"Have we found out anything about former employees of the resort?" she asks Collins. "Do we have information about former guests who were not completely satisfied by their experience here?"

"None the last time I checked," Collins opens her communicator as she answers, "but it's been a few hours since I checked." Into her communicator, she says "Collins to Yorktown. Have Mahmoud and Terezis heard back anything yet?"

Rangin does not see the admiral or his aide, but he does see Kylah and a good-looking somewhat older man through the large window of Giuseppe's. They are sitting very close together. The man seems very interested in her; Kylah is looking somewhat pensive at the moment.

Thalen reports from the ship, "Yes, we've had five former guests respond. I'll download the correspondence to Mr. Graham's tricorder." Collins and Graham see that four of the five are Human, and the other is Altairian. All are from star systems not far from OC3. Each had a great time; two hope to return to someday.

"What about former employees?" Collins asks Thalen via communicator "Any disguntling?"

Rangin checks at the front desk to see if there are any evening activities going on. It's a good way to socially interact with a large amount of people as well as get up close and personal in an agreed manner. Not to mention observe a large number of people while on watch

After that he heads back to the restaurant and sees the others still sitting there. He wanders across and sits nonchalantly back down at his chair. "Sir, any decisions?", he addresses to Collins, then continuing before she can say anything. "For my part, no sign of the Vice Admiral or his Aide eating in the establishments. Spotted Kylah having dinner, he looks happy, she is doing her job. Might want to ask Security here if they are locatable, just for safeties sake."

He leans back in his chair and looks at Collins and Graham, "Have you been shown their security office yet? You know, as part of the checking." Rangin keeps his face sincere, but knows that the chances of it happening were really small. Good at the physical parts and not so good at the box checking, these two.

"Now's as good a time as any. Let's pay our tab and get out of here." Collins says, resisting the urge to comment on exactly what Kylah's job is. "Graham, you and Rangin check out the security office. Delaney and T'Var and I will track down the Admiral."

Rangin doesn't move from his seat but just casually looks across at Collins. "Sorry Sir, I believe I missed you saying how you were going to find the Admiral. You do have a plan, sir?"

Rangin hopes that just for once, Collins will stop and think about what she is planning to do, instead of just reacting to everything. It might be a bit beyond her to realise she should change this, but its a start.

"'Disgruntling,' Mr. Collins?" Thalen asks, puzzled.

Rangin checks the evening schedule. There is a book discussion of Avery's novel So Far From Home at 1800; showings of the recent dark comedy Four Klingons and a Funeral in the resort's theatre at 1900 and 2200; and dancing and then a stage show - a Spican juggling troupe and a Human female singer - in the Starfire nightclub beginning at 2000.

"Yeah, uh" Collins giggles silently "Have any former employees filed complaints, or went public with any misdoings?"


To Rangin, she says "Well, how would you go about finding him?" She tries to sound stern and a little sarcastic, but she could really do with some helpful suggestions, and not just criticisms, about now.

"As in what I tried about 5 minutes, wait until most of the guests will be dining and see if he can be spotted that way." smiles Rangin back at her keeping his voice calm, but his eyes twinkling.

"But it didn't work, so time for something different. I can think of three options, perhaps everyone else can think of some more. One. Leave a note at the front desk asking either of them to contact you, tell them you will wait and see how they contact him. Chances are it will be straight to his room. Two, get security to confirm their whereabouts given the news Graham has found. They don't have to give out the information, just confirm it. As we are heading to the security office, two birds, one stone. Three, find Wilson and ask him to personally confirm they have settled in. No bureaucrat ever likes to write something like that down on paper." Rangin looks back across at Graham, "that's how you threaten a manager, sometimes the pen is mightier than the sword."

Rangin stops for a moment then continues, "If none of those work, the long shots are seeing if they appear at any of the evening functions, I'm especially looking forward to the nightclub. I can look out for suspicious persons at the same time. Or, someone goes round each of the conference rooms and see if the Vice Admiral's visit is mixing business and pleasure."

Rangin fixes Collins with a grin, "So sir, seeing as you made the wiser choice of asking for suggestions before acting, which I recommend in any arena of work and I've had that one drilled into me enough times, which options do you like?"

"I am certain there is a plan, Mr. Rangin," T'Var says as diplomatically as possible. "We will find the Admiral and hopefully learn more about his experience at the resort thus far."

The doctor gives Collins a nod of support.

Graham sighs. "Well, as thrilling as it may be to sit here debating," he says a little tightly, standing up, "the resort's staff and guests aren't going to intimidate themselves." Although his tone is dry he winks at Collins. "All those ideas sound reasonable. It wouldn't be a bad thing for you to show the flag to Wilson one more time, L-T. You could even--" he glances at Rangin and nods. "'Ask him for some suggestions' for how we proceed."

"With your permission lieutenant I'll head to the security office myself--I've been wanting to check out their set up anyway. You can tell Wilson I got hungry and went foraging for bananas." He taps the spot where his communicator is fastened. "If I learn the Admiral's location, I'll let you know, assuming I remember how to use tools."

Unless Collins says otherwise, he turns to leave.

Back in Giuseppe's, Švehla looks puzzled. "Why say you won't know this feeling again, Kylah? Who knows what the future might bring?" He puts his hand over hers. "Look at yourself with new eyes. You're a smart, beautiful young woman with the universe at your feet. Don't be so convinced of your own unhappiness, or the necessity of it going on forever, that you ignore the here and now."

Jan’s touch again shocks Kylah with a pulse of pleasure that numbs her internal discord; it is like an injection of some powerful painkiller. His words, low and gentle, are so soothing they could be a lullaby. She wants to believe everything he says. Why should she think of anything that brings her sorrow? Things may change. And there is still tonight.

“I shall not ignore the here and now,” she echoes, and sandwiches his hand with hers, clutching it to enhance the physical connection. But even this is not enough. She draws him closer and moves toward him as well. The nearer he is, the lighter her mood, until their faces are inches away and she is almost drowsy with longing.

But this is wrong. She should not be acting like this. Only a half-hour ago she would have given anything for Velir to be this close, to call her beautiful and to touch her and not pull away. A stranger means nothing to her.

“Jan,” she says, and she sounds very far away even to herself, “I—I am not very hungry. Perhaps—you could start showing me the resort, as we planned? You see, I am... I am not feeling like myself.” She laughs. Why would she want to feel like Kylah? But if she does not get some fresh air she might lose herself entirely. “I just need to clear my head, to walk around. Would you mind very much?”

He looks a little surprised, but says, "No... that would be fine." He gets the waiter's attention, thumbs the credit slip, and soon the two leave the restaurant. "Where would you like to go first?" he asks, offering his arm.

Kylah hesitates, but cannot think of a polite reason to refuse Jan's arm. She holds on and even this light connection feels like a bond she would never wish to break. "Well, you are the tour guide," she says while looking up at him. "I should like to see the places that make you happiest. Your favorites that the resort has to offer." She thinks of all the self-promotional sights the crew has seen today and adds quickly, "And if it is somewhere an 'official' tour would not take me, so much the better."

He glances toward the large windows along one lobby wall. "Have you seen the grounds yet? We have a little bit of daylight yet, and the lights are just coming on in the garden."

With a glance out of the windows, Kylah nods. "We have been shown the grounds, but mainly the old buildings and main areas. If there is anything off the beaten track you think is especially lovely I would be..." A little shiver goes through her when the bare skin of her arm brushes against his. "I... I would be delighted to see it. Anything, as long as it is through your eyes." She looks up at him and meets his stare. Why has she not noticed that his eye color is the same color as the sky right now? His very gaze is hypnotic, as if he is the twilight sky and she a star caught in its velvet caress. She forces herself to turn away and shakes her head slightly. Yes, she definitely needs air. Such fancies are not like her.

As they move out, she remembers her promise to Graham. She pulls out her communicator and apologizes to Jan with a fib. "I beg your pardon, I must call in to let my superior officers know where I am. Regulations," she says vaguely. She flips open the communicator and calls in to Graham. "Mr. Graham, I just wanted to let you know we are leaving the restaurant for a walk around the grounds. All is very well. Very well indeed," she says with a lazy sideways smile at Jan.

Rangin tries not to roll his eyes at Graham's words before looking earnestly at Collins. "Well Sir, those are some of the options. What's your call? Also who do you want to tell Ensign Kylah what that call is."

Rangin hopes that Collins notices he hasn't asked her what should they do, but tried to phrase it to give more of a command on actions instead of having to think up the ideas for herself. Rangin could also have asked her how they should contact Kylah, but he wanted to keep it focused on giving commands instead of ideas. Rangin hopes Collins will stand up as herself and make the call and stick to it, she has a set of ideas to work with and its what she has been trained to do

Come on, make the call, Rangin thinks and mutters inaudibly under his breath, do it right this time. It's not about making the right call, its about making a call and sticking to it once you have some facts. Take control, you can do it. Its your team, lead it.

"One solo team member is bad enough," Collins says referring to Kylah, "Never a good idea to do any investigating alone. You never know what you might uncover. So Graham, you and Rangin check out the security office and while you're there, see if they can pinpoint the Admiral's location, and that of his aide." Collins uses her best assertive-yet-friendly voice. "Delaney, T'Var, and I will track down Wilson and get his take on the security glitch." She looks at each team member to try to gauge whether or not they are internally rolling their eyes at her. "And while we talk to him, we will kindly ask that he help us track down the Admiral." She looks at Rangin, then at Graham. "and we'll keep in touch. Any objections?"

Yeeesss goes a little voice in Rangin's head.

There is a nod of acknowledgement as Collins looks round at him. Good Call Sir, he mouthes silently to her before continuing with "Certainly no objections from me sir." He rises from the table and turns to Graham with a twinkle in his eye, "Ready when you are."

When Collins asks if there are any objections, Graham shrugs nods. "It's your show, ma'am."

He pauses, looking at Rangin for a second. Graham had been hoping to talk shop with some resort security people and hopefully get them to loosen up and talk off the record. Up until now, Rangin could have been an honorary member of the Starfleet Diplomatic Corps. Given what he's said about Coridan, Graham wonders if he's had bad experiences with corrupt cops or abusive security officers that will make him feel compelled to bust their chops, too--or, he thinks, more likely it's just that I piss him off. Wouldn't be the first time my charming personality has won friends and influenced people.

"Right, so..." he replies, and then is interrupted by his communicator. He listens to Kylah's report. "Acknowledged, Mr. Kylah and...thank you."

Starting to move toward the door to the restaurant, but still holding his communicator, he says to Rangin. "So...Coridan sounds like a fun place."

EH I sequenced the streams in a way that was plausible and the shortest path to one conversation at a time. Please advise if it should go differently.

It's fine, general. Thanks.

Thalen says from orbit, "We've located six former WR&R staffers who worked at the resort, and none have any complaints of note. Nothing on the public newsnets of that sort, either."

Graham and Rangin find the resort's security office; it's a few doors down from the hospital. Mr. Hsu is at his desk and welcomes you both with a handshake. As you sit he says, "We've found no other security breaches, gentlemen. I've changed the codes on our access interface and hope that will do the trick. Cmdr. Vargas from your ship was very helpful in looking over our systems."

Collins, T'Var and Delaney go to the head office. The receptionist says with apparent regret, "Mr. Wilson is off-duty now. Is this an emergency, or could you wait until tomorrow morning?"

Graham smiles. "Well Vargas can be one tough bas--ah, officer--but he's got every right to be, he knows his stuff. Speaking of which, how'd you wind up here, running security at a facility with what seems like more wealthy and powerful people around on an average day than some whole planets?"

"My wife got the job as second-in-command here at OC3," Hsu says with a shrug, "and I followed her here. I've handled security at various WR&R locales for almost a decade."

While walking to the security office, Rangin turns to Graham with a humourless smile, "Coridan is a corrupt cesspool, but its my corrupt cesspool. Years of interfence from Vulcans, Andorians, Tellerites and the omni-present Orion Syndicate meant growing up there was always difficult. Joining the Federation gives it a chance to be something better. Mainly because there are enough people sick of the corruption to do something about it and because those who are corrupt see it as a way to get more power and influence. Win-win all round." Rangin looks lost in thought of years previous, remembering and reliving some of the memories he has of his time there. He unconsciously wraps his right arm across his chest and runs his fingers without thinking over a few of his ribs under his jacket.

As they near the office, Rangin continues, "No need for me to get too involved, I'll let you handle this. I'm sure you speak the same lingo and will find the vice-admiral and his aide."

Graham nods in acknowledgment of Hsu's answer.

"Heh, no pressure - lots of VIPs and a high-powered wife," Graham replies. "So you know a lot more than me than how to provide safety using a light touch, so nobody's vacation gets ruined by either a problem--or security feeling too heavy handed. Like I said before, I'm probably the last person who could pull that balance off..."

He glances briefly at Rangin as he makes that last comment. He appreciates Rangin giving him some space in this discussion, and he now has at least a better sense of where the science officer is coming from: not that I agree with or for that matter totally get what he's been going on about, but if something I did pushed a button bringing back memories of some Orion Syndicate thug or something--well, I more than anyone can understand that getting someone all worked up.

"...so I'm in no position to barge in here and tell you your business. But with the Admiral here, after a guest pulled a knife out of the blue, I'm a little...ah, nervous. Not just because he seems like a nice old guy, but if anything were to happen my lieutenant's and my next assignment will probably be handling security at the Federation's most remote garbage processing facility. If we had evidence of a threat, what are our options--can you walk me through what can be done in terms of monitoring, observation, and protection?" He pauses for a second, and holds up a hand. "We're not holding anything back here--we don't have a confirmed threat, but we have a...suspicion, at least."

Hsu says, "We have continuous visual and audio surveillance of all public spaces in the resort, spa and grounds. The resort computer has a pretty sophisticated realtime threat-assessment algorithm, and brings anything suspicious to the attention of the security duty officer. I have a staff of eight. There's always someone in the control room, and two others on patrol or standing guard somewhere. We have saps, clubs, mass-stunners and hand phasers in a weapons locker, although they're not routinely issued - as you say, we need to use a light touch. Don't want to spoil the fun, right? Some of our guests bring their own bodyguards, with permission of Corporate, but none of our current guests have them. I also can assign one or more of my officers, as needed, to protective duty." He looks from Graham to Rangin, then back again. "Could you be a little more specific about any... problem with Vice Adm. Hardin?"

Jan leads Kylah outside, still arm in arm. The air is cooler now and, as he said, the lights are beginning to come on in the garden, illuminating the stone paths and the foliage. A few other people are about, admiring the flowers, bushes and statuary. Jets of water splash in and around an elaborate fountain of Theban design. Kylah looks up and sees the stars start to appear in the vast, reddish-orange twilight sky.

"Oh, how lovely," Kylah says softly as she admires the heavens. As they walk for a while, she inhales deeply, able to catch a hint of the floral scent in the air, and eventually she rests her head against Jan's shoulder. Her mental fogginess has not gone away as she expected it to, but it no longer matters as much as it seemed to in the restaurant. She can't quite recall why she wanted to feel any different from how she does right now. The serenity surrounding them is almost tangible. "I should probably know what those brightest stars are," she murmurs, "but I admit I do not. Do you know their names?"

"I was never much for astronomy," he says, gently touching her cheek. "But I think that one to the right, there, is Rigel. A very big one, very bright, even from this distance. And then a little further over... Antares, maybe?"

The rush of blood to Kylah's face where his fingertips graze her skin burns her; he must be able to feel her reaction. This cannot be natural, she thinks, but still tilts her cheek into his hand and even brushes her lips against his skin. Every sense contradicts her rational thoughts. No matter what her mind tells her, everything feels delicious and electric and alive.

She warns herself that it is the spores, and not just them, but his own emotions and desires seeping into her. But why are they so powerful? No, it has to be the spores. She kisses his fingers and brings her hand up to his face, caressing it in wonder, before forcing her hand back down--but only able to stop at his throat, where she can feel his pulse beating beneath her fingertips.

Kylah closes her eyes and tries to make some sense of this--this ache that's taking over her. "Jan," she whispers, now turned to face him. "Do the spores enhance your... your need for someone? When you are on the treatment, do you feel differently in that way? Sexually?" The bluntness makes her flush even more, but she has to know.

"I don't know," he whispers, and she knows he's telling the truth. "But this does feel... different. Better, and stronger, somehow. Can you sense it, too?" He takes her hand, opens her fingers and kisses her palm tenderly.

"I sense too much," Kylah says hoarsely, staring at his lips as they press against her tingling skin. "That is what I fear. This is not how I should be acting..." Yet it does not seem to matter what she says or thinks, because something is sweeping her along regardless of reason. She suddenly recalls a line in Shakespeare, the only Earth writer she knows: Let lips do what hands do. And without stopping to think further she lifts her face up to his and kisses him.

He returns the kiss, long and hard, and she senses his growing passion. He pulls her even closer to him and then runs his fingers through her hair. Breaking off the kiss he sighs, "Oh, Kylah," almost as if in prayer.

His kisses seem to drain the life from her and she moans against his lips. Kylah has never felt such strange lassitude and the closer he holds her, the more unwilling or unable she is to pull away. She knows she has to; everything she knows of herself tells her this is not what she wants. But she falls against him, kissing him back anyway....

Rangin leans back with a smile to Mr Hsu. "What my esteemed colleague is trying to get around to saying is that we are looking for a little confirmation that the Vice-Admiral and his Aide are fine, settled in, and above all, safe. For us, he's the most important person on this planet and we would like to have his safety confirmed. Now, WR&R are quite correct that while here as guests their details should be considered confidential, but that doesn't stop us being concerned. Without giving away any specifics, can you confirm that? You know, that he is safely tucked up in his room relaxing and not, as perhaps imagination might consider, somewhere unknown and at threat."

Rangin turns to Graham, "Did I get that right?"

Graham purses his lips and scratches the side of his face with one finger in a slightly ape-like manner.

"Sounds right enough to me," he says, shrugging a little.

This guy's all right, he thinks. Of course probably a perpetual pain in the ass, but all right.

Hsu looks at you both curiously, then presses a comm switch. "Carlisle, would you check on the Vice Admiral and his aide, please, and make sure they're both all right? Report back after you've actually seen both."

"Yes, sir," replies a woman's voice.

Rangin folds his arms neatly in his relaxed pose. "Thank you very much, most appreciated. I'm sure it will put several wondering minds at ease."

Hopefully, the forthcoming good news about the Vice Admiral would stop Graham and Collins from wondering and the assignment could be happily completed, thinks Rangin to himself, before considering the possibilities that if the Vice-Admiral is fine, then he won't have to go on shift this evening and the nightclub could be a lot more fun.

"Yeah, thanks," Graham says to Hsu, glancing briefly at Rangin and trying not to smile. And here I thought this guy was some kind of shrinking violet science nerd, he thinks.

"And thanks for the rundown--looks like you've got a well-run shop here." He nods approvingly, then leans forward a little. "Is there anything on your wish list to make security's job easier? We've got to file a report on our visit after all--I'd appreciate your opinion."

Hsu smiles. "Well, I could always use more officers, and a Starfleet guardship or full array of Class I orbital defense sats would be nice, but I'm a realist at heart."

"Class I sats...now you're talking," Graham says, chuckling. "Maybe I'll just throw in a plug for the efficacy and general good looks of gold-pressed-latinum-plated phaser rifles in my report." Leaning back, he claps Rangin on the shoulder. "Anything you wanted to ask, buddy?"

"I'm going to the front desk and see if they can page Commander Ebling to come out and talk to us" Collins tells Deleney and T'Var. "Coming?"

Rangin isn't sure of what he makes of Graham's camaraderie given the previous discussion of dinner, but decides to go with it anyway.

"Security wise, I wouldn't know what to ask, I'm just a biologist here to make sure the effects of the spores are well documented and nothing untowards is occurring because of them. But, if you wouldn't mind me asking, have you ever had to restrain someone under the effects of the spores due to their behaviour and if so, what happened. Also, given the ways the spores effects are removed, which may vary on a race by race basis, do you have such technology available to yourselves to remove all the effects of the spores from the entire resort, in one go, should such an emergency arise?"

Delaney says to Collins, "Lead the way."

Hsu shakes his head. "We've never had to restrain anyone under the influence of the spores. That's just not the effect they have. And we don't have any means - I don't know of any means - to remove all effects of the spores, everywhere all at once."

T'Var nods in agreement. "Lead on," she tells Collins.

The doctor is a bit surprised that no former employees of the resort have complaints or anything negative to say. Her gut instinct assures her that something is wrong here. But what?

"Interesting to hear, although hardly surprising if everyone has come to enjoy themselves, then enjoy themselves they will. So, it really is a quiet slice of paradise here then." Rangin's voice tails off and his mouths hangs open slightly.

"That is a horrible thought..." he says to himself aloud and he turns a slight shade of white, eyes staring into the distance "...locked in paradise."

Graham glances a little worriedly at Rangin, wondering if the Doc ought to take a look at him, as all of a sudden he doesn't look so good.

"Well, ah," Graham interjects lightly, "I've been trapped in a Neutral Zone hellhole, I'll have to try being locked in paradise sometime." He claps his hands on his knees once. "Mr. Hsu - perhaps we should let you get back to it, as soon as your officer reports back to set our, ah, worried minds at ease about our friend the Admiral."

As they walk to the main desk, Collins comments to her crewmates "Don't you think it's odd none of the former employees had anything bad to say?"

After a moment's pause to scratch his chin Graham adds, "Say, if we have a minute, you said you have constant video surveillance of all public spaces? Can you dial in on any set of coordinates?" He runs a scan for Kylah's location on his tricorder. "Like these? One of our colleagues had an engagement. Rather than call and interrupt her if she's not done, a quick glance will tell us if she's ready for us to meet up with her or not--and see this fine system in action." He holds up a hand. "Of course, that's assuming these coordinates are a public place where it wouldn't be intrusive."

Hsu takes a look at the coordinates and turns to his desktop computer terminal. He inputs several commands - the resort's computers use keyboards, not an audio interface, Graham and Rangin note - and brings up a very dark image, apparently out in the garden area, and at a distance. He zooms in. They can just see barely what appears to be Kylah and a tall man embracing amid the trees, bushes and flowers, but not much more.

Hsu clears the image from the screen almost immediately. "I'm sorry. We don't like to invade our guests' privacy, even in, um, semi-public places."

Graham clears his throat. "Of course, ah, sorry, I didn't expect her to be ah--well, anyway," he glances at Rangin. "Clearly she's not ready yet."

"Sorry, considering something dystopian", answers Rangin to Graham and Hsu as he snaps out of his thoughts.

"Oh, what's that you're looking at", as he sees the pair of them in front of a console and moves across to take a look. As the picture clears, he can only wonder what Graham had been thinking to make such a request.

"What. The. Hell. Are you playing at, Graham?", growls Rangin in a low tone.

When Kylah next opens her sleepy eyes, the sky is a dark midnight blue and the stars are fully visible. Dazed, she has no idea how long they've been standing like this, or where his hands have been touching her, but every inch of her exposed skin--and the dress leaves a great deal of it--is hot and raw, as if he's been holding her for dear life. Struggling for breath, she manages to pull back.

This is not possible. Kylah, who rejected advances at the Academy and was called everything from an ice princess to far crueler taunts, does not let men touch her like this. If he were someone she cared about, someone she trusted—if he were Velir, she might dare. She would probably like it very much. But not a stranger.

"Jan, please... I cannot..." Kylah must draw back further to evade his kisses. "No, please. Can we go somewhere else? You--you mentioned a nightclub, and dancing. Can we go there?" At least while dancing she can keep him close, she can keep feeling this bliss, but it will be public, there will be no temptation to go further.

"Dancing?" he repeats dumbly. "Uh... sure." He seems to get more of a grip on himself, even as he releases his hold on her. "Dancing. Right. Yes, they have dancing here. We could... uh, well... I'm not really dressed for it." He takes her hand and kisses it again, very courtly, and smiles again. He exhales. "You certainly are, though. I should change. I could go change and then meet you in the nightclub, or, if you like, you could come up to my room and wait just a little there...? I wouldn't be long."

When he briefly lets go, Kylah feels as if part of her body has been wrenched from her. Now that he's holding onto her hand again, she relaxes. This is too good a feeling to relinquish. One evening of relaxation, a few hours experiencing the spores--if only by proxy--and whatever incredible emotions Jan is filling her with.... Why should she deny herself of such pleasure? Ever since the Sakathian mission--even before then--her life has been spent in nothing but confusion, sorrow, guilt and anger; Kylah needs the respite. It cannot be too much to ask, it cannot be wrong. We will dance and enjoy the music, and perhaps tonight I will finally sleep.

She's so determined to stay with him, and thus remaining near the spores' influence, that she nods her head to his last suggestion. "Yes, I will come with you. I should like to see the guest quarters anyway; we were not shown them on the tour."

Kylah lets him lead her a few steps and then remembers to pull out her communicator. "Mr. Graham, Kylah again." Her voice is low and she wonders if she sounds as drunk as she feels. "We are going to the nightclub, after making sure Mr. Švehla is attired as properly as I am," she adds with a slight smile at Jan. "I expect the club will be the last destination for the evening. Everything is..." Delicious? Exquisite? Intoxicating? "Everything is well with me. I hope you are the same."

"Hmm?" Graham says a little loudly, surprised Rangin seems pissed off all of a sudden. Then his communicator chirps. "Ah, Mr. Hsu, please excuse me...if you'd be kind enough to contact us when your officer finds the Admiral?" he says, obviously rushed but trying to smile apologetically. As he stands he reaches for his communicator, nods to Hsu, and shifts his head and shoulders to suggest to Rangin they should step out.

Once he is a few steps out of the office he opens his communicator. "Thanks," he replies to Kylah. "Everything is...going according to plan?" he asks, quietly and with genuine curiosity.

Kylah is still letting Jan guide her, his strong grasp almost pulling her in a teasing manner, and she has to look down to make sure she doesn't fall on the uneven, grassy ground. Graham's question throws her. A plan? She really has no plan. Except to learn more about the guests and their exposure to the spores. Considering she's getting a first-hand--well, second-hand experience of them herself, she supposes her night is indeed productive thus far. But she certainly cannot reveal that much to Graham; neither can she reveal that this was a 'plan' to her date. Her hazy mind searches for a proper response.

"It is all I hoped," she says at last, and when she squeezes Jan's fingers and again feels the rush of pleasure go through her, she continues in a near sigh: "Perhaps even more. I will probably see you back at the station, but if you are already in your quarters--" She's interrupted when she feels a tug on her arm--Jan seems like a little child anxious to show off for a schoolmate. Kylah laughs and starts to close her communicator even as she finishes, "--Do have a good night, Mr. Graham."

Tucking the communicator back in her bag, she continues forward with a dreamy, delighted smile.

Conflicting emotions run through Rangin's veins as the Graham heads for the door.

"I don't believe it", mutters Rangin as he sees Graham heading for the door, but loudly enough for Hsu to hear. "So after threatening Mr Wilson with a knife, he decides to just spy, sorry check in on, on one of his colleagues using security cameras." Rangin shakes his head almost unbelieving of the scenes he has just seen. "Thank you for your help." he says to Mr Hsu with a nod and straightens up

Heading for the door he slips outs and waits at a discrete distance while Graham is using his communicator. Probably something Graham wouldn't even consider. While waiting, he tries hard not to think of the image he saw, but once seen, it cannot be unseen. Kylah there, embracing in the night. Pangs of jealousy flicker through him, but he considers that if she is happy right there, then who is he to intrude. Although he wishes it was him, there in the moonlight, he kicks himself not to feel sorry for himself and that she is still a friend. His mind flickers back to previous times when that had occurred and just as quickly stops. Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. Oh, such bittersweet memories. Perhaps Kylah was best off with who she was currently with.

Seeing that Graham had finished on the communicator, Rangin walks across. "Graham. So, threatening violence, spying on your colleagues, which particular police dictatorship did you get your security training from. Don't tell me, you have a little block book of names of people you haven't yet finished with. What are you going to do for an encore, bust in on where Ensign Kylah is, because you don't take chances with your colleagues, threaten the guy to back the hell off or you will do him and tell her to be home before curfew."

Rangin shakes his head in disgust while opening his communicator. "Rangin to Collins. We have finished with Security, they are going to sight check on the Vice-Admiral and his Aide and confirm their safety personally. I'll be heading back to the main lobby unless you have anything further you want me to check on in this area."

"Collins here. That's exactly where we are heading, too." she says into her communicator.

"Understood sir, see you there in a few minutes." Rangin closes the communicator and takes a deep breath.

Graham frowns. It registers with him that Rangin is crawling up his ass again, but he's too distracted to react yet. "I don't get it," he says, half to Rangin and half to himself. "If she was like 'help, help this guy's gone all octopus on me,' I'd get it. If she'd said earlier she was planning on using her...female charms...to seduce the hell out of a mark, I'd get it. But does she have a plan at all?" he says, while thinking "probably not."

He starts to feel annoyed with himself for doubting his gut earlier. Yes, Ensign Kylah needs to build her confidence as an officer, he thinks. She also apparently needs to some training on focus and discipline....

He takes and blows out a deep breath and rubs his head, fully processing Rangin's comments. "A list," he says quietly. "No book, but there is a list." And I am sure you would be appalled by what I imagine doing to them if...when...I find them, he thinks. But that reckoning will be strictly out of uniform and off the clock.

Then his voice tightens a little. "And goddamned right she should be in by curfew, this isn't a game."

"Yes," T'Var says. "I find it quite odd. When things are too good to be true, they are usually not."

The doctor keeps pace with Collins and Delaney as they walk. "Perhaps the Admiral can provide us with a bit of useful information -- unless the spore therapy has compromised his objectivity."

As Collins, Delaney and Dr. T'Var approach the front desk, the Security officer's communicator beeps. She answers it, and hears, "This is Vice Adm. Hardin. I understand you were looking for me? I'm fine, as is Mr. Ebling. The spores are definitely living up to expectations - I haven't felt this good in years! A remarkable experience. I hope you'll have the chance to undergo the treatment before the Yorktown leaves; you won't regret it. Oh, and please tell Ens. Kylah we spoke; she left a message for me earlier, I think."

"Thank you, Admiral. Collins out." Jeremi puts her communicator away. "I guess I'd have been surprised by any other answer." She shrugs and looks at T'Var for some kind of confirmation that her fear have also been lessened now that the Admiral made contact. "We should speak to him before he gets a booster sporing, whenever that may be."

Delaney scratches his head and says, "Dr. Halsey said one exposure lasts indefinitely, didn't he?"

'Then why do folks keep coming back? If it lasts indefinitely, they'd still be under the influence once they returned home." Collins rebutts.

Delaney stares at her. "We were briefed on this, Jeremi. They're withdrawn from the spores by provoking an adrenaline surge before they leave the resort. Some people like the spore experience so much, though, they come back for another go-round, if they can afford it."

"Right, right." Collins is a little embarrassed What the hell is wrong with me? I know we were briefed. I read all this beforehand. What is wrong with me?

Rangin's jaw drops at Graham's comments and he finds it hard for just a moment to find the words, any words, to express his thoughts.

"A curfew..., a curfew." He calms down slightly and straightens up, but no less furious at this overbearing, patriarchal, anachronistic gorilla. "Let me get this straight, you think Ensign Kylah, an adult woman capable of making her own decisions and a trained crew member of a Federation starship...", each point enhanced by a step towards Graham, "...should have a curfew."

Rangin steps backs shaking his head wondering if anything he could say what get through to Graham. "It's not like you can even place any trust in that of your colleague, without checking up on her. If that was a male ensign out there, I doubt this conversation would even be happening, but a young female..."

"...I'd sure hate to be your daughter.", Rangin throws as a last aside before turning and starting to walk back towards the lobby.

"Are you going to tell Mr. Kylah you spoke to Hardin, as he requested," Delaney asks, "or would you like me to?"

"I'll tell her," Collins says, "when we see her."

Jan leads Kylah to Room 237, on the second floor of the resort's hotel. She sees that he has a suite, with a living room furnished in the latest Altairian style, elegant and tasteful. He touches the entertainment system's controls and quiet jazz fills the room. He takes her into his arms. "You know, we could just dance here, if you like. We don't have to go out at all." Kylah finds herself beginning to sway to the music with him.

The pull toward Jan is very strong, even stronger here for some reason, but Kylah takes a deep breath and shakes her head. "I think it is better for us to go to the nightclub. I... I hope you did not think I came up here for...." The longer she looks into his eyes the more difficult it is to concentrate. She swallows and manages to slip from his arms, backing away and looking at the windows. "You have a lovely view," she says quickly. "May I take a look at it while you dress?"

"Sure," he says, smiling. "Be right back."

She turns back and sees the last orange-red of the brilliant sunset as Omicron Ceti sinks below the horizon. The rest of the resort is spread out below her; not far away she can see the buildings of the Sandoval Colony. She looks up and sees the curve of a crescent moon - the planet has three moons, she recalls, but she cannot remember where in the sky the others would be now, if anywhere. She tries to gather her thoughts and then realizes that Jan has already returned. How did he do that so quickly? she wonders. The spores cannot alter my perception of time itself... can they?

He is in formal clothes, a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled back, and black pants and shoes. He negligently tosses his black jacket over a chair. "You aren't easy to leave, you know," he says, coming close again and nuzzling behind her ear. "Mmm, this is a good song, too. How about a dance here before we go?"

His strong hand drops to her hip, passing along Kylah's bared skin on its way to her hip, and a ripple of delight sweeps over her. There is no harm in just a dance, she thinks, and nods her head slowly. Just one. Her hand falls on his forearm and slowly glides up to his bicep, just as she steps into his embrace and lets her head rest beneath his chin. She can smell the light hint of aftershave above his not-quite-buttoned shirt collar. Her right hand slips up to his chest, fingertips running along the edge of his collar. With a rapturous sigh, Kylah closes her eyes and lets herself be pulled in whatever direction he wants. Why did she ever think the spores were dangerous? They are Safety. Indeed, she would be quite happy to just fall asleep now. The nightmares that haunt her would never reach her here.

The music plays on....

As Rangin gets increasingly worked up, Graham is increasingly puzzled.

Does everyone outside of Security think Starfleet flies us around to sightsee and boink? he thinks. We're on the job here...

He's wondering how Rangin would react if he were to have the ship beam down some duty manuals he could use to illustrate the patient explanation of how to run an away team he's trying to organize in his mind--right up until Rangin utters his last sentence.

Rangin turns away, and Graham momentarily can't hear anything: rather, it's as if the words hang, written in the air, between him and the science officer's back.

He clenches and unclenches his fists. Then his shoulders slump and he says in a flat voice, "I'm sure she hates it too."

Graham turns around and walks in the opposite direction.

Rangin doesn't hear the sound of Graham walking in the opposite direction caught up in his own thoughts.

The further he walks, the more he begins to wonder if he was wrong to say what he did. But each time he plays the conversation over in his mind, he hears Graham not getting to the point and playing buddy, buddy, Graham asking to spy on Kylah, Graham going on about curfew. No, Rangin thought to himself, he hadn't been out of line. It's not like Graham had ever listened to a word he had said.

Noticing the others in the lobby, Rangin walks up to them, face still set in stone. "Evening.", the short curt greeting uttered forth.

Collins acknowledges Rangin and asks "Where is Ensign Graham?"

Where can a guy get a drink around here? Graham thinks.

He sighs, surmising that getting to the closest place probably involves going back through the lobby. Bad enough for you to go off the deep end, he thinks, but it would be just that little extra bit of awkward if you were to wander past Collins and the team and give them a wave on your way to self-medicate in the bar…

Where, in fact, do you think you’re going, Booker? He doesn’t know—only that he needed a few minutes alone. How would it have gone to have tried to respond to Rangin? He can’t help but laugh a little: “Ah, see, you’ve hit the nail on the had. The reason I am calm, cool, and collected while you get all in my face for what seem to me to be obvious common-sense things to do while on a mission is that whether you like me or not pales in comparison to the fact that my daughter does hate me. At least I think she does…or if she doesn’t—well hell, there’s the kicker. If she doesn’t and she really does want me around, then what does it mean that I’ve been away and messed up and in my own head for ten damned years? But thanks for mentioning it, let’s hang out some time, you can have dibs on pissing in my drink, buddy.”

Graham takes a deep breath, shakes his head and stops walking. Well, time to get back on the clock, he thinks--might was well do this now and spare Rangin the trauma. He pulls out his tricorder to confirm Kylah is at the nightclub, first scanning for her communicator and then for Elasian lifesigns.

Graham's tricorder detects just a single Elasian lifesign. It is not in the nightclub, but several hundred meters to OC3's planetary west, on the second floor of the hotel. The communicator is within four meters of the lifesign.

Rangin stops and looks back over one shoulder and sees Graham hasn't followed him.

Wondering where he has gone and what he is up to, Rangin decides against mentioning their last conversation. It wouldn't help the current situation.

He pulls out his communicator and opens it. "Rangin to Graham. I'm here with the rest of the party in the lobby. What's your location?"

In the dimmed light of room 237, on the living room's thick Turkish rug, Jan and Kylah have been dancing for some time, or at least standing and moving to the music—their hands just as active as their feet, perhaps more so. Kylah’s fingers feel Jan’s lean, muscular chest, then his arms, and she hums the music with a smile on her face. She is aware that he’s moved her hair away from her neck and is kissing a trail from her shoulder, up her throat and finally back to her mouth. He is much taller than she is and she must stand on tiptoe for their lips to meet.

When his hand clutches her hair to draw her even closer, Kylah starts to feel overwhelmed. She’s aware of his strength more than ever and, as euphoric as the spores and his own intense desire are making her, she senses that things are going too far. “Jan,” she says when their mouths part, “we were supposed to go to the club....”

"Vacations are meant to be spontaneous," Jan murmurs. He leans back a little, touching Kylah's chin and lifting her face for another kiss, and she is again silenced by the thrill of this almost electrical contact. His free hand slips through a gap in her dress and touches her bare hip, then slowly moves upwards. He could be playing her own Elasian zither--his fingers stroke her and, like the zither’s fragile crystal strings, her flesh responds with a quiver, but could just as easily shatter.

He then effortlessly unties the thin silk ribbon that keeps her dress’s halter top in place. She gasps in surprise when the silken material falls away and he caresses her bared skin. More than ever, she can sense the urgency of his desire. I am causing this, she thinks, torn between pride and alarm. She has never felt so powerful, yet so powerless. She has almost completely lost the ability to differentiate his instincts from her own. Just as on the Sakathian lab station, she is both attacker and attacked, predator and prey. Of course, Jan is not violent; her mind tells her he is a good man, and she knows he only seeks their mutual pleasure.

Yet, despite the exquisite sensations her body is experiencing for the first time, Kylah still frantically tries to wrest her mind free, hoping to break the empathic link - but she finds she can't. The part of her mind bonded to his wants to complete the union, wants their bodies joined just as intimately as their emotions are. I must not let this happen, this is wrong… Even as her lips keep seeking his mouth, whenever they come up for air from a kiss she tries inarticulately to plead with him to stop. “Please... please, Jan, I cannot... I cannot control this....”

"You don't need to," he says, a little short of breath. "This isn't about control, Kylah. This is about what we both need. What we both feel. Isn’t it?”

She nods, almost hypnotized. Only when his head lowers to kiss her shoulder again does she see where they have moved, as if drawn by a magnet: the bedroom.

Graham is already moving at a trot toward the hotel when his communicator beeps. He ignores the incoming call, instead initiating an outbound one of his own. "Graham to Collins. Ensign Kylah is not in the location she reported as her intended and final destination. I'd like permission to go bring her in, ma'am."

Collins is only a little startled. "Collins here, did Ensign Kylah give any indication that she was entering a risky situation? If not, then get your butt back here now." She presses the buttons "Collins to Kylah. Are you in any need of assistance?"

Rangin blinks in surprise at the sudden turn of events and snaps alert, his concern for Kylah overriding his current mood and waits to see what Collins orders.

Goddamit, Graham thinks, is this Intergalactic Bust Booker Graham's Balls Day or what?

He continues toward the hotel. This is not the conversation he wants to have least of all over the comm, but he's starting to get both annoyed and worried. "I doubt she'll answer, ma'am. Look she's in a freaking hotel room. I only see three scenarios: what she told us about the plan for this 'interview subject' was all true, but she's lost control of the situation. Or what she didn't tell us is that she's so worked up about proving her worth she thinks she needs to sleep with a guest to get information. Or her whole plan was a cock and bull story and she just had a crush on this guy, in which case we should drag her ass back and explain she should play romance novel heroine on her own damn time."

Oh great, he thinks, is it too much to hope T'Var was not hearing this? Then another thought occurs to him: son of a bitch, if the third is what's going on, is Rangin running interference for her? He'd thought they'd seemed close at times...

"Ensign Graham!" Collins shouts at her communicator, "Report to the lobby on the double!" She turns to the others. "I doubt Kylah's in any kind of trouble, but if she is, Graham is not the one to handle it, and certainly not alone." She taps the buttons again "Ensign Kylah. Please report." she repeats. Recalling Kylah demonstrating her knife skills to Graham, Collins believes Kylah can handle any situation just fine, even if she is a spoiled brat.

Hearing Graham's voice echo from the communicator, Rangin closes his own and can't help but comment, "I really hope he doesn't do anything violent to get a physical reaction. According to the records, its enough to remove the effects of the spores. That would not go down well."

Rangin turns to Dr T'Var, "Sir, can I suggest you talk to him, I believe he is more likely to listen to you than anyone else." and then to the group, "Does anyone know the guest she was meeting or what the room number of the guest might be? Whoever it is will be non-violent...unless provoked."

"Come again, ma'am?" Graham replies, not stopping. "Lots of interference on this channel, Lieutenant." Graham says this in his best deadpan voice, not expecting Collins to believe a word, but figuring his best option is to stall for time until someone proves him wrong, does something useful, or he has to make the choice between complying and being obviously and irrevocably insubordinate.

"Do you want to go on report, Ensign?" Collins says slowly and deliberately into the communicator.

Graham comes to a rolling stop, counting out how long he can delay a reply before Collins likely feels compelled to pull the trigger...one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand...

At a halt, he replies equally slowly and deliberately as he turns around. "It's your show, lieutenant." He lowers the communicator and exhales heavily, then lifts it back up. "On my way," he adds tightly.

"Good man." Collins replies.

Graham laughs out loud--not intentionally into the communicator, although he's not sure if he's snapped it shut before it bursts out. "Good man." Like I'm a "good man," he thinks. Way to twist the knife, L-T--are you getting crib notes from Rangin? he thinks.

He claps his hands together. Well, out of my hands now. Maybe I'm just being paranoid and every thing's fine. Or... Part of him would be badly disappointed if his third hypothesis turned out to be right, but part of him hopes it is, since while it would be personally hurtful as well as a professional embarrassment for that to happen on a team he's on, at least it would mean nobody's getting hurt.

While Kylah’s eyes widen at the realization of where they are, he again kisses her, and before she comprehends how it happens they are on the bed. Kylah knows he has not forced her here: she followed him on her own, her body willingly taking this path despite her doubts, and this makes it all the more frightening. She feels like a marionette pulled by some force beyond her reach, ignoring her own commands. Their linked emotions insist that this is right, that it is what was meant to be, what must be, but Kylah wants to scream. She isn't ready, she doesn't want this. Not here, not now, not with this man.

Jan is even closer now. His weight atop her, his kisses almost muffling her, Kylah feels like a panicked animal caught in a trap. Somehow she has to explain that he must free her, because she cannot free herself. She does her best to push herself away so her weak voice can be heard. “You do not understand,” she breathes. “I—I have never done this before. I need your help...I do not… No, please!”

"Shhh," he says. "It's all right. I'll help you." He kisses her again, deeply, hungrily. His hands never stop moving as they continue their slow, tortuous, rapturous tour of her body.

Kylah's head falls back on the pillow and she digs her nails into his back when he unties the remainder of her dress. He suddenly stops short. "What is this?"

Kylah opens her eyes to see him staring at her knife, still strapped to her thigh. Before she can speak, he continues with a chuckle. "I'd heard Elasian women were deadly, but I never realized... Do you mind?"

She watches dizzily as he carefully removes the weapon from her and tosses it aside. Kylah says nothing, because there's nothing to say. What use would a knife be? Or her phaser? He is no danger to her--not nearly as much as her own mind is. The rueful thought occurs to her: No weapon can protect her from herself.

Jan returns to kissing and exploring every inch of her. She knows their physical connection, his skin on hers, is only weakening her, and they must part in order for her to regain control, but the paradox is that she cannot seem to separate from him herself, not for a moment. “Help me," she whispers, almost a whimper. "You must do what I cannot. You must… be strong for me… You must release me....” But her own body is ignoring everything she’s saying--she is holding him close despite pleading with him to let her go. Why would he believe her? She despises herself—she should have learned how to protect her mind, but she did not, and now… “Please, Jan,” she says in a near sob.

He stops and looks into her eyes. He says quietly, "My lovely Kylah, it's only natural to have some... qualms the first time. Although I’m surprised that someone like you has really never—no, forget that." He strokes away a lock of her hair, grins almost bashfully, and shakes his head. "Everyone is different. But if you want to go, go. If you really want me to stop, I will. You're a grown woman; you have to make up your own mind."

But that is just it, I cannot! she thinks, her body limp and almost paralyzed by his nearness. He smiles again, as if the passing seconds are his answer. He leans in for another gentle kiss, and she closes her eyes to return it, unable to stop. His hands move with renewed purpose and in moments their clothes are gone, and there is nothing between them, nothing but Kylah’s fear.

The part of her mind unaffected by the spores is crying out, ashamed and frightened and desperately trying to be heard, to prevent what's happening. But now she is but a tiny dot in a dark, wide and trackless ocean, drowning, submerging, and the tide is dragging her inexorably farther out to sea. Then, a moment later, an eternity later, it is too late. In one swift instant Jan is part of her, their bodies and emotions finally united.

And having yielded herself entirely to him, Kylah finds she is no longer capable of speech, reason, or escape.

Rangin addresses Collins "Sir, Ensign Kylah has not responded to her communicator."

Nerves and worry begin to cross his normally calm demeanor.

"Do you want to give her five minutes to see if she responds or would you prefer a pair of us to contact Mr Hsu in security, it is in the hotel and we should get their permission, and then have a couple of the team check out the hotel room that Graham said she was in, so we can confirm her safety."

"Mr. Rangin's suggestion is a good one," T'Var says. "I would be willing to accompany Mr. Graham to confirm the ensign's safety if you feel this is the best course of action."

Graham meets up with his shipmates in the lobby, and just as he does, his communicator beeps. He flips it open and hears the same woman's voice he heard earlier in Hsu's office: "Mr. Graham? This is Security Officer Carlisle. Chief Hsu asked me to tell you that I've just seen and spoken with both the admiral and his assistant. Both are fine, and they told me that they've had no problems. Both have Starfleet communicators with them and can be contacted directly, if you wish."

Graham acknowledges the security officer's report with sincere appreciation, if a little absently. "Uh, thank you, officer." At least that's one piece of good news. and one task we can get done without a parliamentary debate or tripping over each other, he thinks. He sighs and looks around mutely and without expression at his colleagues, unsure of what, if anything, they plan to do. I've said all I have to say, he muses.

Delaney responds to Rangin's earlier question to the group, "Kylah was meeting Jan Somebody-or-other. He's a Czech businessman we met earlier. I'm sorry, but I don't remember his room number."

"Good. Doctor T'Var, you and Ensign Graham check on Ensign Kylah. If she is not in any jeopardy, tell her to meet us back at the research station when she is done with her interview." Collins tells the others. "We'll wait here for your report."

As Collins speaks Graham's head snaps to look toward T'Var with obvious alarm. Oh hell, he thinks. I wasn't even thinking about what I said earlier on the comm...T'Var must have heard. The Doc doesn't seem at all anxious about Kylah's safety, or jealous, or sad...or...anything, he thinks, but then would a Vulcan express any of those feelings publicly anyway? If so, how?

He glances back at Collins quickly, looking for any insight as to what's happened while he was not with the group. He can't believe he's the only one to notice the relationship between Kylah and T'Var--subtle romantic cues are hardly my strong suite, he thinks. But since nobody's reacting at all, he wonders, maybe they all know something I don't?

He grits his teeth. Well I've been complaining about all the endless bickering so for the moment I'll just keep my mouth shut and deal with whatever happens.

Afterwards, Jan gently rolls off Kylah. He murmurs, "Excuse me, please. Be right back." He kisses her tenderly on the cheek, gets out of bed and pads into the bathroom, still naked.

Now that their physical bond is broken and Jan has left her side, Kylah feels a sudden weight descend upon her: the blissful effect of the spores is abruptly diminished. She shudders and opens her eyes. For a few seconds she is disoriented, uncertain why she is so filled with remorse and sadness. Just as quickly, after looking down at her naked body, she remembers.

No. I did not.... But she knows she did. Worse, her body is both sore and still tingling with pleasure, her physical senses still betraying what she herself did not want to happen. After the reality sinks in, Kylah clutches the blanket to cover herself and turns over in bed, staring numbly at her knife and crumpled dress on the floor. Sick and weak and disgusted with herself, she wishes she could throw the blanket over her and hide, not just from Jan but from her own thoughts. But her instincts warn her that she needs to get out, as quickly as possible, before Jan returns and she loses herself again.

She hears water run in the bathroom, then he reemerges and climbs back into bed with her. His body is a little cooler now, she feels as he lies down beside her. "Are you all right?" he asks. "Did you like that? You were amazing." His smile gleams in the half-light. He kisses her again, then chuckles. "If I'd known this was in store when we met this afternoon near the pool, I never would've let you out of my sight."

Swallowing, Kylah feels claustrophobic, afraid to be this close. She accepts his kiss but moves further away, still covering herself. And his light words--"never would've let you out of my sight"--seem more like a threat than the gentlemanly flattery she knows he intends them to be. I asked him to release me, why would he not do so? But she knows the answer to that: he gave her the opportunity to go. She made no effort to leave. She could not, then.

She must now.

"Thank you," she says automatically even as she pulls herself up to a seated position. She can hardly bear to look at him. In truth, she’s afraid to. As it is, she keeps her distance and hopes, hopes he will not close the gap between them. For more than one reason, she does not want him to touch her again. "I--I have to leave. To report to my superiors. We--" She scrambles her mind to think of a reason. Already the spores' familiar lassitude is seeping toward her; this time, unlike before, she fights it. "We must all meet for a final briefing of the day's events. I am sorry."

"Really? So soon?" He looks genuinely regretful. "Couldn't you just check in over the hotel comm system, or on your, what's it called, communicator? I enjoy your company so, Kylah. I hate to see the evening end so abruptly, just after we... well, you know."

Abruptly. Kylah somehow manages not to grimace. The evening did not end nearly as abruptly as it should have. "I am on a mission," she says weakly. "Not a guest here. I--I cannot do as I might wish. It was difficult getting the permission to go out for dinner in the first place without having to check in every five minutes..." And they were right, everyone was right. I am a fool, I would not listen. I earned this. She blinks back tears and manages to grab her dress and underwear from the floor. She desperately wants to shower, but she cannot do so here. As much as she still wants to hide her nakedness from Jan--although he's already seen more than anyone else ever has--she is forced to drop the blanket in order to slip the black dress over her head. Even its silken material makes her shiver with revulsion. If it were up to her she would never wear it again.

Once dressed, she stands up, unsteady on her feet. "I am sorry," she murmurs, and rather than meet his gaze she looks down at her bare feet on the floor. Her shoes are somewhere in the other room, probably near her purse. "I do not know what is... what is correct, after this sort of..." Kylah cannot end the sentence. She just insists: "But I must leave. I will be in trouble if I do not."

And truer words she has never spoken. She backs away until she almost stumbles on her purse, and then bends down to grab it and her shoes. They are cradled in her arms like a baby when she finally faces him again. "Good night. Thank you for..." Kylah is overtaken by a swell of nausea. She does not want to thank him for anything. "For a lovely evening."

Jan quickly puts on a thick green bathrobe and comes over to her. He touches her cheek, but when she flinches he then drops his hand. He says quietly, "It is I who should be thanking you, Kylah. You're upset, I can see that, and I'm sorry." The calm of the spores has returned - or is that how he always is? His tenderness only makes her more queasy. "May I see you again? Maybe tomorrow? I would hate for things to end like this."

It is all Kylah can do not to back further away. Where before his height and strength seemed protective, now they are intimidating. Still, she senses the all-too-seductive pull of the peaceful, utterly treacherous comfort emanating from him, and every ounce of her is struggling to fight it, to put up a wall. Her concentration is so intense her muscles tremble. "Do not apologize, it is my fault," she says miserably, looking sightlessly over Jan's shoulder. "I did not want... I was not expecting anything like this. As for tomorrow, I am not sure of my duty schedule. The mission..." Kylah shakes her head inarticulately, trying to keep herself together, but her voice is getting more and more hoarse. "Perhaps. That is all I can say."

She turns and goes to the door, not even stopping to put on her shoes. "Good night," she whispers, glancing back in his general direction before slipping out of the room to the safety of the hallway.

The last she sees of Jan before the door slides shut is him standing there, barefoot, looking baffled and sad.

Rangin nods at Collins orders, takes a couple of deep breaths and sits down in one of the nearby chairs and pulls out his tricorder to review his days findings to take his mind off what may be happening and start writing his reports.

He trusts in Kylah to have been sensible and in his colleagues to find out quickly, probably that nothing is wrong and for the matter to be sorted. Its probably going to be like the Collins and Graham's concern over the Vice-Admiral all over again. If he is needed, Collins will no doubt order him to do something.

But it doesn't help much and he winds up drumming his fingers on the device, while waiting.

Kylah walks down the elegantly decorated corridor, each step harder to take, because each step takes her farther from the influence of the spores. At last her mind is completely free, and the utter absence of the unadulterated, ephemeral happiness she’s experienced for however long it’s been—she cannot even fathom the time—leaves her with only her own emotions to deal with. She sways and lets herself lean against the wall, her eyes closed. She feels hollow. Sick.

How could I let that happen? Why was I so weak? Kylah can hardly stomach the memories of Jan touching her, of wanting to stop but being trapped by her own inability to act, of the sense of being invaded, of her own reactions she could not control. Everything she has fought to maintain, all the careful protection of her privacy… gone. And not for someone she cared about, someone she trusted. A stranger she has known for less than a day.

Her body almost stiff with self-loathing, she bends awkwardly to put on her sandals. But her trembling fingers make it difficult to tie the straps around her ankles. The more she struggles with the effort, the more tears blur her vision and make this simple task more arduous. Finally a sob escapes her, which she covers with her hand. She forces herself to stop. And at last the shoes are tied and Kylah, wiping her eyes of the tears, continues down the hall.

"I will follow your lead, Mr. Graham," T'Var says. "Shall we check on our wayward ensign?"

Graham clears his throat. "Uh, yeah, right," then adds with more alacrity, nodding, "Let's get to it."

While they are on the way he checks his tricorder again for Kylah's location.

Dr. T'Var and Ens. Graham are walking towards the resort's hotel tower when they see Ens. Kylah, in black dress and sandals, emerge from the elevator.

Kylah sees her crewmates in the distance and nearly stumbles in shock before stopping in place. She was hoping to hurrry back to the research station without running into anyone.

T'Var and Graham are possibly the worst combination of people she could see right now. T'Var was right about her being a liability unable to control herself, and Graham was right about her being a stupid, callow fool who must be protected. But Kylah cannot let them know. She cannot let anyone know.

She has dissembled and hidden her feelings all her life. and knew she'd have to lie when talking about the dinner to the others; she just thought that wouldn't be necessary until tomorrow morning. Apparently she must do so sooner than she expected.

Girding herself, she lifts her chin and starts walking again. When she reaches them, she says quietly: "Good evening, Dr. T'Var. Mr. Graham."

Graham glances to and from T'Var and Kylah, looking for any reaction--and feeling terribly awkward to be in the middle of their meeting.

Well, given how the day's been going, he thinks, whatever I do will probably blow up in some way. So I might as well try to do my job...and not through fuel on the fire. Intentionally, at least.

His eyes narrow only slightly as he looks at Kylah and tries assess her physical and emotional state.

"Is everything all right, Mr. Kylah?" he asks in as neutral a tone as possible, trying to keep both concern and irritation our of his voice.

Kylah rather desperately wishes there were a mirror anywhere in the vicinity--she has no idea what she looks like. "Yes," she says carefully. "Everything went well. I suppose... you are still looking for the Admiral?"

Bullshit, is the singular thought Graham's instincts are shouting at him, but since the nature of what happened is totally unclear he certainly doesn't want to open that can of worms here and now.

"Uh, he's fine," Graham replies. He unconsciously shifts a little foot-to-foot.

T'Var and Graham both observe that Kylah appears somewhat dishevelled, with tousled hair and a strap on her dress twisted. Her eyes are a little red.

"That is a relief. Then..." Kylah looks from Graham to T'Var, and back again. "Why are you two here? Did she-- did Lieutenant Collins change the watch schedule yet again? Should you not be off-duty by now?"

Well isn't this a Kobayashi Maru, Graham thinks. Either there's no Security issue, and she just cheated on her girlfriend who's standing right next to me. Or there is, but if the past is any guide, if I ask her about she'll probably clam up or freak out. Or she was in over her head and Collins' orders have made that much more of a mess of it. All I need now is Rangin looking over my shoulder telling me everything I'm doing wrong.

Partly because of Kylah's appearance, he's starting to feel increasingly angry at everything and nothing at all. Either I ought to go up there and drag this guy out of this hotel and into an interrogation room, or this is probably all the result of some screwed-up interpersonal thing between Kylah and T'Var. Or Kylah and Collins. And if Collins had let me check things out earlier I wouldn't be standing here, goddammit.

"You weren't...where I expected you to be," Graham says a bit tightly. "Or responding to Collins' communications." He adds quickly and a little loudly, with a vague hand gesture, "maybe the two of you want some space to talk." He realizes this may be a non sequiter but he's heartily interested in an exit strategy--something he feels a little guilty about, but Graham's now sure either he isn't going to be able accomplish anything useful, or that he'd be barred from doing the right thing if he were. Which only makes him that much more frustrated.

He turns and starts walking back. He flips open his communicator. "Graham to Collins. We located Ensign Kylah, Graham out." He snaps it shut.

Kylah stares at Graham, feeling a flush warm her cheeks. Since he has left, she turns to T'Var. "I--I told you we were going to Mr. Švehla's room so he could change before going dancing. Our plans... We did not... we did not go dancing. And I did not hear my communicator. My purse was not..." Her hands tighten around the bag protectively. "I apologize for causing you any concern for my welfare. There was no reason for it. There was no need to--to track me down."

Her throat is so tight it hurts, and she swallows painfully while casting a confused glance at T'Var, desperately wanting to change the subject. "Why does he think we should speak alone? I do not understand, and in any case I have nothing further to say. If Lt. Collins wishes to speak with me I will talk with her."

Kylah opens her communicator. "Kylah to Collins. I apologize for not responding to your hail. I did not hear it in my purse from where I was--" She cuts herself off. "I did not hear it. There are no problems. If you do not need to speak with me personally I should like to return to the station."

What the hell was that? Collins thinks looking at her communicator and immediately beeps Graham back "Is she okay? Did she get the information she set out after? And in what universe is it okay to end communications with a superior office before that officer has a chance to respond?"

"Not obviously injured," Graham replies to Collins. "I suggest you ask her directly. Ma'am." He stands holding his communicator with the channel open.

Timing: It would be convenient if Kylah's call now hits Collins thereby letting Graham off the hook for this call...but obviously GM decision.

Rangin looks up immediately on Collins communicator going, waiting to hear news of Kylah

Collins's communicator gives the distinctive quiet chime of a simultaneous message, and she switches over to hear Kylah's report after Graham's. The Yorktown landing party's commanding officer now has an open channel to Kylah; Graham is on hold.

Four Aurelians, two adults and two juveniles, walk by Collins and the others. One of the juveniles looks over as they pass.

http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Aurelian

Collins taps her communicator to receive the incoming call, then responds "Collins here, Mr Kylah. Glad to here you're unharmed, but in the future, please always keep your communicator within reach. We'll meet up back at the research station." She turns to Rangin and Delaney. "I don't know if she got any useful information, but they must have talked a lot. Her voice was a little hoarse." she taps her communicator again "Collins to Graham, return to the research station ASAP" Collins looks up again. "Since the Admiral and his aide are also fine, I think we can return to the station as well. Shall we go?"

As she turns, she notices the Aurelians, and nods at the young who looked their way.

Closing her communicator, Kylah stares at it for a second or two before addressing T'Var. "I am to meet her at the research station," she says softly. "I suppose that is where we are all to meet. I hoped I would..." Her words trail off in thought. All she wants is to take a bath or shower. Her body feels repellant and she so wants to be clean. She can't imagine how she'll handle seeing the entire crew right now; being questioned by everyone: Collins. Graham. T'Var. Delaney. Rangin.

But she has no choice. She starts off to find her way back to the research station, paying no attention to whether T'Var is following--or to anything other than forcing one foot in front of the other.

"Wait," says Dr. T'Var. "You are clearly upset. Would you like to talk? Is there anything I can do to help?"