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

With a chuckle at Graham's self-deprecation, Nia licks a bit of maple syrup--a drizzle of which she used on the sausages--from her thumb. "I think you have me confused with someone else, Booker. I'm no ivory-tower intellectual, though yeah, there's plenty of calculations in what I do. I wouldn't be here if I couldn't tell my astrogator from my altaz system."

She grins at the light pun, though it's a common one with pilots. "But I have no problem with earthy talk. Most of my favorite memories of the years before Starfleet are of getting down and dirty lying beneath the bellies of airships while covered in oil. Later, at the Academy, I heard and participated in all the, uh, not particularly intellectually stimulating conversations you'd expect when a bunch of weary tinkerers and pilots sneak out past curfew to bars where we'd try to outdo each other in filling our gullets with cheap brew."

Her smile fades until it turns somewhat hard. "Honestly, there are a lot worse words that leap to mind, not to mention some sick concocted revenge plots, when I think of the bastards who beat the crap out of that girl. I wouldn't go through with them--revenge isn't justice--but I understand the strategy and toughness it takes to deal with animals like that." Nia looks at the dwindling food on her plate. "I just hope the officials in charge of catching them feel the way I do: justice belongs to the law, not the enforcers. Those who forget that run the risk of blurring the line between them and the beasts they're supposed to be fighting."

Shrugging, Nia lifts her gaze and returns to a less pensive mood. "Sorry, I doubt you appreciate hearing arm's-length philosophy about your job. Hope you'll be willing to tell me more about yourself and your career, preferably when we're not facing a countdown till our respective watches."

Normally at this point she'd shut up and let him do the chasing--she's already come on strong enough--but she doesn't think the usual rules apply. Not after what he did for her yesterday. "So in aid of that... can I figuratively 'buy' you a drink tonight? After I woke up looking at that beautiful snowglobe you got me, I figure it's my turn to treat you to something nice and wet."

Graham's somewhat distracted by the image of Nia covered in oil, but clocks in as she starts to talk about revenge and justice. What should or could I say to that?...it's complicated, he thinks.

Then she concludes with something even he--who feels certain he's not great at picking up on innuendo--can't help but miss, unless he's completely deluded.

"I...ah..." he pauses. "I know a lot about that, I guess, the question of justice versus going over the line..." he replies. He can't quite bring himself to take a senior officer's hand in public on the table.

"But...aside from that, Nia..." he says, lowering his voice, "I...I hope yesterday wasn't a fluke. I'd like to meet you...for drink..." he adds hastily, "tonight, after our watch." He pauses and his right arm twitches a little bit toward her arm. "I really would."

Dr. Bucci says to Rangin in a friendly way, "OK, I understand. C'mon back if you change your mind." Does Rangin wish to go to the cargo bay where the sensor module prototype is, or to a Science lab?

Cooper kisses Collins right back, quite appreciatively, and they go their separate ways. Collins is right on time for her watch on the Yorktown's Bridge, relieving Ens. Three Crows at the Security console. The American Indian officer has nothing new to report. Capt. Singh is in the big chair and talking quietly with Chief Engineer Cheverez, who stands beside her. The sunlit, slowly-turning arc of Anubis fills the main viewscreen.

Thalen looks a long time at Kylah and then nods. "Very well. Report to the Bridge within the next twenty minutes, Ensign. Let me know at once if there are any problems, or you need to be relieved. Understood?" Kylah can clearly sense his concern for her.

Dr. Villa says to T'Var, "I hadn't thought of that. Good point. What preparations would you suggest before Mr. Fujishiro enters a... terminal phase?"

Nia's gaze flickers to the slight movement of Graham's hand, but she pretends she doesn't notice. "Then we're all set," she says, using the napkin to wipe her hands and mouth before dropping it on the tray. "Dinner and drinks, tonight. Assuming you're not needed for more derring-do on the planet--and I pray you're not, and we'll be out of here without anyone else getting in harm's way."

She gets up and excuses herself, picking up her things with her left hand. "I'd better get going." With a laughing glance at the mass of food piled on his tray, she adds teasingly, "Now be a good boy and concentrate on cleaning your plate. You need to fill yourself out, Ensign. Why, you're nothing but skin and bones."

And here she uses the joke as an opportunity to gently pat that strong hand he'd clearly wanted to touch hers. After she does, she walks away and casually lets her fingertips glide lazily over his own fingers and knuckles, releasing contact only when she's brushed against his wrist and the hair on his arms visible beneath his uniform sleeve.

She leaves and disposes of her breakfast things, a pleasant tune singing in her head when she departs the Mess to begin her working day.

Relief washes over Kylah. "Yes, Lt. Thalen, I will. Thank you," she says, yet again struck by his generosity. She backs away and starts down the corridor, trying to hold on to her emotions. Thalen's gentle concern is all the more touching when contrasted with that confrontation in Sickbay--with a man from whom she would have expected such compassion.

Biting her lip to keep the tears at bay, somehow Kylah manages to reach her quarters without breaking down completely or running into anyone else whose sympathy--or morbid curiosity--might make her feel even more raw and vulnerable.

Alone in the cabin--Collins must already be on duty--Kylah stands near the doorway, only far enough inside to allow the door to close behind her. She aims her gaze at nothing in particular.

It is hard to comprehend that when she was here last, she was hurriedly packing the bag she holds now, tossing in the smallest feasible number of belongings, with every intention of never seeing these surroundings again.

Everything seems blurry through her tear-glazed eyes as she slowly drags herself to her side of the room, placing the Bellaque on the nightstand--which will probably be her breakfast, because she has neither the time nor will to face the Mess Hall crowd. Releasing the bag's sole working handle so it falls to the floor, Kylah starts to sink onto the bunk. And then she turns as cold and rigid as ice.

A gift bag sits near her pillow.

She actually backs away, horrified. It is like some kind of nightmare, where one is haunted by an inescapable object that reappears no matter where one flees to. Kylah rubs her burning eyes, certain she is dreaming, but the bag is still there. It is impossible, how did he arrive here so quickly? How did he even get inside...?

Slowly logic returns to her, as does clearer vision. Of course this is not the same bag she gave to Velir--the one containing the gift he is probably throwing in the trash even now.

Confused, Kylah moves closer and sits on the bed. A moment of gathering her courage passes before her cold fingers reach for the pretty bag that would, in any other circumstance, be innocuous--more than that: delightful.

She swallows and pulls out a small box tied with a ribbon. An experimental, gentle shake reveals nothing except that the object is light but solid. She glances briefly inside the bag but sees only tissue paper in her cursory look.

Feeling foolish for being so skittish, Kylah unties the ribbon and opens the box. Whatever is inside is covered by a protective layer of cotton, which she lifts off. The sight of what is inside makes her forget how to breathe.

A harp. A tiny, wooden harp. Very reminiscent of...

Abject terror floods her. At once Kylah pushes the box off her lap and stands up from the bed, a gasp muffled beneath the now-cold hands crammed to her mouth. My zither, she thinks, shaking her head in silent disbelief. Why? Why?! What does it mean?

This must be a message. A... a warning? Or someone cruelly taunting her? Who would do such a thing? Who could have done it? It must be her attacker, or someone who knows her instrument was broken, someone sick, someone despicable, vindictive...

She flashes on Ferguson, but no, this feels far more personal than the spiteful accusation he made of her in that rec room. Then Kylah's treacherous thoughts turn to Velir.

No. No! She cannot believe this of him, not even after all he has called her, how he has treated her.

Thinking of him brings the righteous anger back to Kylah. Whoever did this should be caught and punished. What kind of sadistic, torturing maniac... Furious, she snatches the bag, trying to determine where it is from, and flips it upside down to empty it of the tissue paper. Perhaps there is some kind of receipt...

A small, white card flutters out. Easy to miss amid the frothy tissue and the light-colored bag itself. Kylah grabs it and, white-knuckled fist crumpling the bag, reads the brief inscription.

From Jeremi.

She is so clouded by paranoia that it takes her several achingly long seconds to recognize the name. Then the words shift and ripple as she stares, tears pooling in her eyes yet again. The fear, anger and paralysis seep out of her in a nauseating rush. Kylah's knees are suddenly so weak she has to reach for the bed so that she is safely sitting, rather than collapsing to the ground.

This is no threat, but a thoughtful gesture. Collins must have bought this when she was on leave, maybe hours before everything happened. Almost our first words were about music, Kylah remembers, looking at the miniature carved harp lying on the bed beside her. She bought this because she remembered how much music matters to me. How much my zither matters. Mattered.

Kylah sobs, looking from the harp to her canvas bag where the remains of the zither are hidden. Yes, the coincidence was cruel--but not the gift. She cannot be angry with Collins, this was just extraordinarily bad timing. Perhaps Collins might have realized how bittersweet this gift would seem now, with Kylah's own instrument destroyed, but... well, she is still Collins. Purchasing such a gift was extremely generous, already more thoughtful than the older woman has ever been. Kylah is touched to have received this much kindness.

Still, the unfairness of it all threatens to overwhelm her. She steels herself and turns back to the little harp, picking it up and cupping it in her hand like a baby bird.

It is very plainly carved--not quite naïve or primitive art, but certainly not ornate. Nonetheless, it is charming, and the attention to detail makes it clear that the carver was highly skilled; the thin wooden strings are no thicker than the edge of a toothpick, and they graduate in thinness the farther back they go, near where the knee-plate would be on a real harp. Kylah recognizes that the simplicity is an intentional artistic choice, not a necessary one due to lack of talent.

Unable to help herself, she runs one tentative finger along the strings as if playing a scale. Of course, the rigid object produces no music or sound--she was not expecting it to. The silence makes her weep more gently. Somehow, it feels... Kylah shakes her head and closes her eyes... it feels like a memorial to something that has died.

After some moments have passed, Kylah carefully places the pretty little thing on her night stand, and leans the small card against its side, so the From Jeremi faces her. She gazes at it for as long as she dares with a mixture of sorrow and gratitude. Then she takes the card back, tucking it in her duty belt.

At last she gets up, goes to the bathroom to wash her face with cold, cold water. Kylah does not dare look at her reflection for too long. She knows she looks raw, swollen and blotchy, and there is nothing she can do about that with so little time left. But when she does glance up, she notices there is one bruise on her temple--probably the one that left her unconscious--that has not fully healed. She fluffs her curls forward to hide it.

Finally she straightens and, wiping her hands, leaves her quarters as quickly as she can. Thalen is expecting her and she will not let him down--nor Singh either. And if Collins is there, Kylah knows what she must do.

When she arrives on the Bridge, her gaze immediately picks out the tall redhead at security. Of course she must greet her superiors and take her position to relieve her predecessor, but Kylah makes sure to catch Collins's eye.

Pulling the card from her duty belt in an inconspicuous manner, she reveals it only to her roommate. Then, with a grateful gaze, she whispers silently: Thank you, Jeremi.

Rangin heads to the science lab, mainly to do a last check on the work, set up a couple of searches on Ens. Kylah and her background to retrieve the results later, make sure Ens. Chris Johnson got the details of the sensor, and then head for the Cargo Bay, full of trepidation of what he is about to work on.

And all the while, he is thinking of the statue now standing proud in his quarters.

Collins is surprised to see Kylah back on duty so soon after what happened, but admires the girl's fortitude. She smiles when Kylah addresses her and whispers back "You're welcome, Kylah." She turns back to her station and watches the lights on her panel dance around as they relay and process security information.

"We should probably consult with Dr. Noel regarding the best way to handle Fujishiro's passing. However, I believe total honesty with the crew about her probable death will allow them time to digest such news. They may also want to visit with her while she is still with us -- whatever her condition is currently," T'Var replies.

The Captain and Chief Engineer both smile and welcome Kylah to the Bridge. She takes her seat directly behind the Captain at the Communications console. There is the usual routine murmur of reports from belowdecks, and three recorded messages in the subspace comm queue.

Collins sees that all is still well on the Security front.

Dr. Villa says, "All right. Please have a word with Dr. Noel, and draft an appropriate message to the crew. Don't send it until I've seen it."

Graham watches Onn leave, and is still staring at the door for a few moments when he realizes he'd better finish his food and get his butt on station.

He eats quickly and reports for duty.

Kylah returns everyone's greetings with a nod and somewhat tremulous attempt at a normal smile. She then gladly concentrates on the familiar panel in front of her, inhaling and exhaling in relief as expansively as her still slightly sore ribs will allow.

After seeing whether there are any urgent communications from within the ship, she checks the recorded subspace messages in the queue.

T'Var will consult with Dr. Noel regarding Fujishiro's condition and how it may impact the crew. The doctor goes to Noel's office and stands in the doorway.

"May I speak with you a moment?" T'Var asks.

Cmdr. Vargas is in the Security Office when Graham reports. The duty roster shows that Graham is to patrol the forward primary hull this watch.

Kylah sees that there are no urgent shipboard messages, just routine stuff. The subspace messages in the queue include the daily Starfleet Intelligence classified situational report for the sector, greetings and a coded personal message for Capt. Singh from Capt. Hughes of the USS Kossuth, and a query from Starfleet Command as to when the Yorktown will be leaving Anubis.

Dr. Noel puts down a datapad, smiles and says to T'Var, "Of course. Please come in."

Kylah stares at the console. The Intelligence report is precisely what her uncle would wish her to send to him...and thus, by proxy, the Klingons. Zither or not--and oh, how Kylah dreads revealing its loss to Aldaan--the information should be passed along to him; it is, as he has expressed in innumerable ways, her duty to both her family and her planet.

But her duty to Starfleet is just as clear, and she has never felt its weight as heavily as she does now. Her colleagues saved her life despite her attempt to abandon her position, the ship, and the crew itself. True, no one but Graham knows of her plan. But Kylah does, and she cannot imagine actively betraying them.

As if that were not enough, the request from Starfleet Command is also a shameful reminder that Kylah's actions have cost the Yorktown's time and effort, and might have even put her fellow officers in jeopardy if they were hurt while trying to capture the muggers.

She looks down at the blinking lights of her panel, seemingly waiting for her input. I cannot. I will have to bear whatever grief I earn from Aldaan.

Instead of surreptitiously making a backup copy of the sitrep, Kylah hurriedly taps her panel to send it and the personal message over to the Captain, her fingers moving in a blur as if the faster she sends them, the sooner she can forget that she is disobeying her Guardian. Only the last query from Starfleet is voiced aloud.

"I have forwarded some incoming messages to you, Captain," she says, and then continues more softly, embarrassed: "Also, Starfleet Command wishes to know when we will leaving orbit. Shall I relay your answer to them, or do you wish to respond personally?"

Singh turns and says pleasantly, "Thank you, Ensign, I'll handle it."

Given his morning so far, his assignment strikes Graham as sounding like some sort of euphemism: "Hey Nia, want to 'patrol the forward primary hull?'"

He decides to pass on any attempt at humor with Vargas however, and--if he can do so without interrupting the commander, offers a simple "good morning sir" before equipping himself and hitting his "beat."

Rangin heads to his Library Computer screen quickly and, while gathering the necessary data for the prototype sensor module, feeds in a few queries about Ens. Kylah. Feeling almost embarrassed about what he is doing, he sets the response to text-only. The last thing he wants is for everyone in the Science labs to know.

Ens. Kylah: personnel record: Date of Birth, place of birth, parents, relationship to current royalty of Elas.

Ens. Kylah: Starfleet record, date of entry, date of graduation, areas of expertise.

While he's waiting for the answers, he also looks to see if there are any images of Kylah from when she was younger. Soon he sees:

KYLAH, Ens. Asst. Communications Officer, Communications Department, USS Yorktown, NCC-1717. Born 37 Ernai 4177 (July 30, 2246), in Oliyel City, Elas. Adoptive parents: Sulaar and Ranni, members of the Elasian Royal Family. Biological parents unknown; according to records, father was human, mother Elasian. NOTE: Maternal uncle Aldaan, Regent and Prime Council Member, has been Guardian to her and her siblings since their parents' deaths in 2258.

Cousin to former Dohlman Elaan; older sister to the current Dohlman Ascendant Tellun, and upon his election granted the courtesy title of Larileen (Attendant to the Dohlman).

Sworn in as a Starfleet Academy cadet August 23, 2266. (Despite Elas's non-Federation member status at time, deemed eligible due to Terran birth father.) High marks in linguistics, communications, philology and astronomy. Graduated with distinction, fourth place, Starfleet Academy Class of 2269. (Note: three-year accelerated program arranged and approved by Starfleet Academy Superintendent and Elasian Council.) Requested and duly assigned to Communications.

There are more than a few images of her in Federation records: as an infant in her adoptive parents' arms; as a child in elaborate court attire, standing before what appears to be a temple or palace of some kind; several as a teenager taking part in various court functions; and dozens from her time at Starfleet Academy, almost always looking serious. Rangin shakes his head, it seems that some things never change. He's seen her smile only a few times and when he did he'd wished she would do it more often. He wonders if he will ever see her smile at him again.

One of the most recent shows her at what is labeled as the wedding of her cousin Elaan a little over a year ago on the planet Troyius. Apparently a member of the wedding party--although her placement in the line makes her the farthest away from the bride--she is dressed in a filmy white gown that to many other cultures would be more appropriate as a negligee. Again her expression is serious.

Rangin finds a very brief newsnet archive vid from the wedding. She is dancing with an older man, one hand on his shoulder, the other lightly resting on his left arm, which is curled around her waist either protectively or possessively. Rangin's eyes widen slightly at the sight of the older man holding a young woman in a negligee close at a wedding. He shakes his head slightly, and reminds himself its a different culture. Even so, he can't help but feel a little but jealous before sadly remembering that he only has himself to blame.

The man is described in a caption as Aldaan, her Guardian. Rangin sees him bend slightly and lean forward, his cheek against her ear, as he says something to her. For the first time in any of the images, she smiles, albeit briefly. Her expression is softer and seems almost admiring. Rangin relaxes slightly when he realises who he is. Of course, Kylah is going to feel more secure near this Aldaan, if he is the one who had taken care of her since her parents died. He also wonders if the Guardian was also responsible for Kylah getting fast-tracked through the Academy, after all, got to make your royalty look good for everyone.

The last archived object he finds is brief vid of Kylah at what Rangin recognizes as the Trenka Bron-Ken Concert Hall at the Academy. The recording is labeled "Student Recital, April 2269." Wearing a formal and relatively modest (for her) strapless red gown, she holds a beautiful instrument against her chest and supported by her bare left arm. from looking at it, Rangin realises it must be the her zither, the one now shattered in tiny pieces. Her right hand is moving against the strings, not plucking them but lightly stroking them. Now and then she reaches with this hand into a clear bowl of what appears to be water strategically placed on a black stool by her side. Throughout, her eyes are closed and her expression is possibly as beautifully serene as he has ever seen her. Rangin looks around carefully, to see if anyone is around, and when the coast is clear he turns on the volume to hear a few notes of the performance. The sound is sweet and bell-like, something between a stringed instrument and a flute.

Rangin frowns slightly, although quite beautiful and matching the player, it's not something that really grabs at him, though he could still appreciate well-played music.

Looking back over the results, he double takes when he sees the details of Kylah's natural parents. He had generally assumed she was just an Elasian, but given the record? Of course, that would account for the sensor reading and what she had thrown at him this morning. I am an Elasian woman--or half, anyway. He shudders at the thoughts that not only is she royally adopted, the fact is that her younger brother runs the entire planet. Oh grief, they really do have a lot to talk about. A scientific part of him also cannot help but wonder if her tears are still as potent, but he decides against trying to follow that train of thought. Now, is not the time.

Then, given the Federation's penchant for documenting virtually everything, Rangin searches for:

Ens. Kylah: Starfleet record, cadet hobby and social groups joined. It seems unlikely she had joined any, given her prickly nature, but he's curious to see who she interacted with.

Ens. Kylah: Starfleet record, worlds visited. Rangin had visited far too many on every field trip he could find just for the experiences, and other reasons, but wonders if Kylah is the same or if she was too sheltered, or too precious, to have been afforded the same possibility.

The Library Computer takes some more time before it responds with:

Cadet hobbies unknown. Social groups: Member, Academy Music Society.

Upon graduation, assigned to USS Yorktown as Assistant Communications Officer. Worlds visited: Academy - Earth, Mars, Io, Vulcan. Post-Academy - Sakath system; Omicron Ceti III.

Naturally, the records have not yet been updated to include Anubis.

Rangin looks at the records. So maybe, she really was that sheltered and naive when she graduated from the Academy. Most of the cadets he knew had been in multiple groups and been to a couple more worlds. Maybe it was because she was fast tracked and didn't have time or maybe because she kept herself to herself, but could she really have been prepared for life on a Starship. On occasions, royalty could be dumb and Kylah was paying the price for it. Rangin sits and feels slightly peturbed. She seems to be a young, naive cadet who had got into a whole lot of trouble and he's treated her, well badly, over the last few days. She may not be totally innocent, in fact she had a lot to answer for, with the lying and obfuscation which he is still waiting to find out about, but he, himself, really should also have acted better. Just because she's being deceptive, it didn't mean he should act in a manner unbecoming.

And then he thinks back over the gift and wonders just what kind of person she is? Looking up a few details may give some clues, but they still needed to talk.

He holds up the communicator wondering just what message she left for him when Rangin notices that the sensor data he is waiting for has completed. Putting the communicator away, he turns off the search and ponders what to do next. Not dealing with the sensor, that's obvious, but what to do about Kylah. Picking up the datapad, he leaves the Science Lab for the Cargo Bay where the prototype is waiting. As he leaves, he wonders what would be the best way to talk to Kylah and who else, if anyone, he could talk to about this.

Background by choie and EH

Graham sets out with a phaser-2 and communicator. The corridors are crowded as two-thirds of the Yorktown's crew is either reporting for a watch or going off-duty. He sees nothing amiss.

In Cargo Bay 4, Rangin finds Dr. Brold talking to Lt. Patel and Ens. Zweller; each is holding a datapad. The bulky prototype starship primary sensor module, steel-gray, roughly cubical and three meters on a side, looks unchanged from the day before. Brold's two assistants are not there.

The greenish-gray reptilian does not seem happy, and his tail twitches agitatedly. "Where have you been?" he asks. "We've been waiting for you for hours." Over his scaly shoulder Rangin sees Patel roll her eyes a little and shake her head. Zweller is fighting a grin.

Graham makes it a point to do two things: every third or fourth person he passes he offers a nor or a "good morning." Be good to have folks see a Security officer as a helpful or at least pleasant part of their daily routine, he thinks, especially if this will be a frequent assignment.

He picks an area and spends a little extra time checking emergency access panels and hatches for both their security and content or where they lead. And to get to know the ship.

In both cases he concedes that he's trying to avoid perseverating about his upcoming dinner...date...with Nia. Is, ah, just friendly...or, really 'friendly'...or like, uh, breeding prerogative friendly? And what do I wear? He reminds himself not to ask Mahmoud for advice on what he should wear. Would never hear the end of that...

Lulled by the routine flashing of lights and quiet beeping and whirring of the computer, Collins' mind drifts a bit. I'm glad she liked it she thinks about Kylah and the harp. I have to check on if Lunnd's guys sent up the pieces of her zither. What a shame it was destroyed. I can't imagine the loss she must feel. It has to be like losing a child. Collins' mood descends into sadness as she dwells on these thoughts and soon she feels her eyes welling up with tears. She fights them back and takes a deep breath and tries to recall how good she felt first thing this morning. Slowly she comes back to neutral, but she is definitely in a darker place than she was before breakfast.

Graham gets friendly or neutral greetings from everyone to whom he speaks. He is coming to recognize more and more faces, even if he still doesn't know everyone's name. The panels and hatches he checks are locked when they should be.

Things are relatively quiet on the Bridge. A yeoman brings a tray of coffee around for anyone who'd like some. The Captain does not; the Chief Engineer does.

Collins is so lost in thought that she almost misses the yeoman with the coffee. She accepts a cuppa with thanks.

Rangin puts on his most earnest student type smile and fills his face with regret. "I do apologise, Dr Brold, I will not be so tardy next time." Rangin holds up the datapad with all his questions and comments on. "If I had known of the early start I would have been sure to have forwarded all the questions I had to you from my initial pass of all the documents you were kind of enough to provide to me last night."

Rangin looks at the two Starfleet officers alongside and greets them. "Good Morning ma'am, Mr Zweller." before returning his gaze back to Dr Brold.

"Dr Brold. Where would you like to begin? I'd be most interested if you could show me how it works up close. Notes are one thing, bit never compare to seeing it for real." Rangin hopes the nudge for Dr Brold to show off his knowledge and expertise help to mollify him slightly.

T'Var takes a seat. "I would like to discuss Mr. Fujishiro's condition and how we can best prepare the crew for her eventual passing."

The coffee is hot and rich; better than some other Starfleet coffee Collins has had.

Dr. Brold does seem a little mollified. He begins describing the prototype's design, and it is not long before he veers into very technical language: "Consistent with Starfleet Science Directive 54-7423E, the differentiation matrix uses an R4-derived algorithm. This breaks incoming signals into 14 primary and 37 secondary datastreams, an improvement over the current...." With an effort, Rangin is just able to keep up.

The psychiatrist leans back in her chair and nods. "I've been thinking about that myself. Dr. Villa told me her condition has deteriorated. A loss among a starship crew tends to be surprising or unexpected, so this is a different kind of situation for us. Do you have any particular suggestions?"

The coffee brings Collins back into focusing on her panel.

Graham decides he ought to get more familiar with some of the critical areas of the ship and adjusts his patrol route to spend some time around the auxiliary bridge.

Should I bring flowers or something? he wonders. I really can't top the snow globe... Or is that being too serious and formal...

Hmm, although I do have one idea...

All seems well aboard the Yorktown, according to the Security console and its frequent updates, Collins sees.

The Auxiliary Bridge is locked, as is SOP, but Graham can enter with his patrol code, if he wishes.

Once Dr Brold finishes, which probably takes a while, Rangin suggests taking a brief break while he runs through all the data he is looking at to make sure he understands it.

While he is doing that, would someone be able to run through all the biosensor testing they have done, so he can start to rule out all the usual things he would look at, if they have already done so.

T'Var ponders Dr. Noel's question for a moment before answering.

"Obviously, I am not an expert when it comes to the emotional impact of a situation like this. For me -- as a Vulcan and as a physician -- death is merely a natural part of the life process. I am certainly aware of how upsetting Fujishiro's passing will be to our crew. To be honest, I am unsure as to what we should do. Your counsel in this matter would be most appreciated."

A thought suddenly strikes Collins. She turns to see if Singh is talking to someone before speaking up. "Excuse me, Captain?" Jeremi will wait until Singh acknowledges her, then she'll continue. "Has there been any word from Detective Lunnd about the third mugger?"

Kylah has been sensing some distressing emotions from somewhere to her left, distracting her somewhat from paying attention to the admittedly uneventful communications console reports. She frowns and is about to try to locate the waves of sadness that have been ebbing and radiating for some time when Collins speaks up. Immediately Kylah focuses on her cabinmate--and even before the older woman continues speaking, Kylah recognizes that she is the source of the weighty emotions. Surprise, then understanding and sympathy rise in Kylah, as well as a flash of concern.

But both reactions are cut off abruptly when Collins asks about Lunnd.

Face burning, Kylah abruptly swivels back to stare at her console, privately aghast. Collins's question puts Kylah sharply back into the spotlight, precisely where she does not wish to be.

In truth, she has desperately tried to think of a way to speak privately to Captain Singh, ever since the captain chose not to respond to Starfleet Command--at least, there has been no response to their query as far as Kylah can tell. So why are they still in orbit around Anubis? The ship's Security personnel no longer seem involved in the investigation into Kylah's attack--something for which Kylah is extremely grateful. She has heard nothing about the status of the case at all, not even a request for her input regarding identification. Kylah has therefore assumed nothing new has occurred, and possibly the trail has reached a dead end.

So... if all this is true, why is the Yorktown still here?

Perhaps the two criminals are all the police intend to pursue. Or it may take some time for that detective to interview and get anything useful from the captured suspects. Frankly any number of things could extend the investigation, and Kylah cannot imagine that Singh plans to stay indefinitely, not when there are so many other matters for the ship to deal with--and clearly Starfleet Command agrees.

Still Singh did not answer, and Kylah's curiosity continues to nag at her: Why can we not leave this wretched place?

But she has kept silent, because tactful wording of such a question eludes her. Now Collins has broached the subject. No, not broached: blurted. In front of everyone. Out of nowhere. Perhaps it was her strange mood that pushed Collins into action; Kylah will have to ask if something is amiss with the security officer, something must be bothering her. Why else would Collins ask such a question if not to distract herself from her own feelings? At least that would be understandable, if somewhat unthinking. Collins must remember what it was like to return to duty after her... illness. She wanted things to go back to normal as soon as possible--too soon, perhaps, if those brittle emotions Kylah sensed earlier were related to Collins's tragedy.

Given all this, why would Collins not realize that Kylah feels the same way? That she does not wish to have her disgraceful situation, her victimhood, her recklessness shoved in her face like this? She is obviously concerned, she wants to help catch those who hurt me, Kylah tells herself, closing her eyes. I understand that, I do. But why bring it up this way?

Miserable, she swallows, waiting for Singh's reply. Otherwise Kylah remains motionless and silent, pretending she is an invisible speck of dust on an otherwise empty chair.

Brold takes about 20 minutes to explain everything, but Rangin has the sense that he could go much longer if necessary. Who does Rangin wish to run through all the biosensor testing they have done?

Dr. Noel says, "We could certainly pass the word among Mr. Fujishiro's known friends and associates, including her Science colleagues, that her time may be... limited. I'm not sure we need to make a shipwide announcement, as such, though."

Capt. Singh says, "No, not yet. Hopefully it won't be too much longer. I want to be sure we're fully cooperative with local law enforcement in their investigation, and they haven't told us yet that it's complete."

"Thank you, Captain." Collins smiles and looks to Kylah who seems to have made herself smaller somehow. The young ensign doesn't look up but stays focused on her station. It's going to be alright, Kylah Collins thinks at her roommate We won't let anyone hurt you again. She then turns back to her own station and sighs inwardly.

Whistling softly, Graham uses his patrol code to enter the auxiliary bridge, taking mental note of the nearest intersections and access hatches as he does so. Never know when you'll need to get here in a hurry. Or blast some assholes out of here, too, he thinks.

Singh's words make Kylah sigh quietly, defeated. She takes several deep breaths before finally turning her chair around.

"Captain," she says quietly, wishing in vain that her voice were audible only to Singh. "Permission to speak with you privately, when you have a moment? Please?"

The door whooshes open and Graham enters the Auxiliary Bridge, a scaled-down version of the main Bridge. Lt. Guillaume Vaudreuil, the Command Subsystems Officer, is the duty officer; Lt. JG Faraz Pourtash is at the Helm and Ens. Horst Leventhal is at Navigation. They are running a tactical simulation of a battle with a Gorn cruiser. Vaudreuil pauses it. "Ens. Graham," he says, "what brings you here?"

Singh says, "Of course. You have the Conn, Mr. Collins." She and Kylah take the turbolift to the Captain's office. She says, "Please take a seat. Coffee? Tea? Something else?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Collins practically leaps from her station to the big chair. She settles in, hands on the armrest panels ready to spring into action should the need arise. Her smile takes up half her face.

"Dr Brold, thank you for the explanation. That was more than detailed enough for me to start working with." Rangin acknowledges the Doctor's genius, as it's a great way to make him feel important.

"I'm happy to work with anyone to run through the bio sensor testing you have done." Rangin nods to all three of them. "It will be fairly tedious I'm sure, just cross-checking all the usual things."

"Mr Zweller? Interested in running through the detail?" Rangin asks politely. As the junior person there he is likely to get the job anyway, and Rangin wanted to check if this was the same guy he knew from years ago.

"A most logical way of handling this situation," T'Var replies. "Of course, those who do know of Fujishiro's condition will pass this along to other members of the crew. I am certain it will not take long before everyone is aware of what is happening."

Collins feels right at home in the big chair - she could definitely get used to this. Lt. Kendin, an Algolian, is at the Helm, and Lt. JG Melissa Tsu is at Navigation, just in front of her. Ens. Kylah has been replaced at Communications by Lt. JG Ernesto Garcia. The Yorktown's Bridge hums with quiet efficiency, as usual.

Zweller grins and says, "Sure. Let me have a look at it." He comes over to Rangin, who thinks he may be the same young man he remembered. Lt. Patel and Dr. Brold begin talking about the prototype's power requirements, as Zweller inputs commands on his data pad. He leans closer to Rangin and says, "You seem to have a knack with 'Scold Brold,' I gotta say. Ol' Patel and I have had the pleasure of his company for 'way too long already."

Dr. Noel smiles a little wryly. "Shipboard scuttlebutt and warp drive: the two fastest things in the galaxy. How should we tell those who know her best? Do you have particular wording in mind?"

"Sorry to interrupt, sir," Graham replies. "This is one of the critical areas of the ship on my assigned patrol route today." He gestures toward the screen. "In the event an encounter like this one goes bad, I've found you're better prepared for tactical action when you've gotten the feel of a place first hand, above and beyond just studying the specs." He pauses and glances around the room and then back to the screen. "Although--however well-prepared--I'd call any day involving the might involve Gorn boarding party a really bad day."

"I'll leave you to it, sirs--unless, well, sometimes ships have quirks or engineers make modifications not reflected in the blueprints. You all know Yorktown much better than I do, if you have any insights those are always welcome. I'll take any edge in the event Security needs to protect or take back mission-critical areas from a bunch of angry Gorn."

Vaudreuil smiles. "No apology necessary, Mr. Graham. And if this simulation goes as I hope it will, the Gorn will never even have the chance to send over a boarding party." He thinks a moment. "I don't know of any quirks or modifications like that - the Yorktown is much like her sister ships, in that respect - but I'll let you know if any occur to me."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed for the simulation team here, then, sir," Graham says appreciatively. Given this conversation, as he takes his leave he decides to check out the forward phaser control room next.

By now Kylah regrets not having had breakfast other than the hot cocoa--her plan to eat some of the Bellaque before heading to the Bridge was scuttled by the discovery of the little wooden harp. But she can hardly ask the Captain for an entire meal, so she just shakes her head with a quick "No, thank you, Captain," while taking a seat opposite Singh, who sits down behind her desk in her dark-wood-paneled office.

After looking at Singh for a few moments, Kylah, frightened despite herself, hurries through her next words. "I appreciate your allowing me to speak to you privately, Captain. Regarding your response to Lt. Collins... you said you wished to cooperate fully with the local authorities." Her hands are clasped so tightly her nails dig painfully into her palms. "But--but I was thinking, sir--I mean, ma'am. I am sorry, I still do not know which you prefer," she adds, flustered and embarrassed.

"'Captain' or 'ma'am' is fine, Ensign," Singh says, smiling encouragingly.

Kylah nods and presses on. "Detective Lunnd has apparently not requested any additional help from our Security officers, and he has not told me whether I will be needed on the planet. And the investigation could take days. Weeks. If not months. This third man may never be caught, and I know my cash will not be retrieved. I doubt anyone will find my knife and uniform, and as for the jewelry... that is probably all over the planet by now." She bends her head, only now realizing something distressing. "In fact, Detective Lunnd never even asked me to describe the jewelry box, or what pieces were missing. He must have no expectation of finding it. If he even believes it was missing at all."

"Hmm. We discussed the case briefly, but he hasn't told me his thinking on that point," Singh says.

Kylah nods and takes a deep breath. "Captain, I--I know I have no standing to make a request of you. But I wish--I do so wish--that we would leave here. It is bad enough that the ship has been delayed a full day, and even worse that so many officers were put in jeopardy tracking down those criminals, all because of me. And not just physical jeopardy. Det. Lunnd even thought one of my crewmates might be guilty. Ensign--this man was made to feel like a suspect, for no reason but my own carelessness. And to be frank, Det. Lunnd's ugly insinuations. My fellow officer did not deserve such treatment."

She shakes her head sadly, but keeps her voice as calm as possible. "If Det. Lunnd wishes me to stay for questioning or identification, I will. But please, Captain... even Starfleet Command seems to wish the ship to leave. I know you have done all you can, and that is all Lunnd really expects of the crew." Kylah finally looks down at her lap. "Certainly you have done far, far more than I ever expected, if that matters at all. I just wish to put it behind me. To forget it, and to have everyone else forget it as well."

Singh says, "The Chief Constable of Thoth has asked us to remain for now, Mr. Kylah, and expects a break in the case momentarily. I certainly don't intend to remain through any trials or appeals. Starfleet Command does wish us to be moving on, and I know Dr. Brold is very much of the same opinion." She pauses. "I can see how... distressing this has all been for you. You've been through a very difficult time. Have you spoken to Dr. Noel or any of the other Medical staff about what's troubling you? They're here to help."

A sense of futility descends on Kylah. She did not really expect the Captain to obey her wishes, of course, but she hoped to get more details about what the status of the investigation might be. Convincing Singh that the Yorktown's plans are more important than one minor crime, even if it did involve someone on the ship, would also have been ideal. But it did not work, and all she has done is put the focus on her personal welfare yet again. Kylah just nods and decides on a half-truth. "Yes, I have spoken with a few doctors--Bucci and T'Var have been extremely patient and helpful with me. I will be fine, Captain, I just... I just hope no one else will be put in danger again because of me, or even inconvenienced. Including this Dr. Brold, who I gather is part of the next mission? I am sorry, since everything that happened I do not know what the Yorktown's next destination is. I should have asked Lt. Thalen what I have missed. Then again, if Dr. Brold is involved in science or medicine, I doubt it will affect me."

The Captain says, "Dr. Brold has designed a sensor prototype which we are to test. He wants to leave right away. Between you and me, I don't share his sense of urgency, given the crimes that were committed against you. Your case is my priority right now. But we will leave in due time, and you may well play a role in our next mission."

Kylah smiles briefly in humility, understanding that her role in Communications--and her low status on the ship--means she will usually play a minor part in most missions. The last two have likely been flukes. "I am grateful for your time, Captain, as well as for your concern. I hope things will be resolved soon."

"As do I, Ensign."

Kylah's hands move to the arms of her chair, hoping she will be dismissed and forgotten. Belatedly she remembers a vital question. "Oh! Excuse me, ma'am, I meant to ask... I suppose they have not told you whether I will be needed to identify anyone? Either the suspects who have already been captured, or... perhaps the third person, who has not? I must admit I dread that, especially if it means going down to the planet and seeing them in person." She swallows and tries to seem brave. "But if it is my duty, I will of course do so."

Singh steeples her fingers. "My understanding is that two suspects have been captured and may indeed need to be identified. I don't know yet if you'll need to return to the surface; I'll speak to the Chief Constable about that. If we can spare you that trip and any needless stress, consistent with their investigative requirements, of course we will." She says, more gently, "But if there is a trial for any or all of those charged, you might have to return to testify. They have the right under the Federation Constitution, of course, to confr... to see any witnesses against them in open court."

Her throat suddenly dry, Kylah takes a few seconds to respond. "Yes. Of course. I had not thought of that, but that is the law." Inwardly she is cringing. A trial. Uncle will be furious. He would probably seek to have those men killed rather than allow me to be questioned in public like that. And what will he say to me... How can I tell him of all this?! She forces the thoughts away and keeps her inner turmoil hidden. She stands and says sincerely, "I thank you again, Captain. I am--I am so sorry to have caused all this bother, and I hope to redeem myself through my performance in my duties."

"You really have nothing to apologize for, Ensign. And it has been no bother at all - it's my duty to do my best to protect my crew, and to see that those who attack them are brought to justice. And there's certainly nothing for which you need to redeem yourself, as far as I'm concerned." Singh looks at Kylah a long moment. "Well, enough said. If you decide you need more time off-duty, please speak to Lt. Thalen, the First Officer or me at once. Otherwise, please return to your duties on the Bridge now, and tell Mr. Collins to continue at the Conn. Dismissed."

"Thank you, Mr. Graham," Vaudreuil says with a wave. "Carry on, and good day."

On Deck 11, just above and forward of the sensor dome on the very bottom center of the primary hull, Graham finds the Forward Phaser Control Room. It is also locked but he easily gains entry. Two Command yellow-clad technicians, neither of whom he knows, are elbow-deep in a partly-disassembled control console. A toolkit is spread out on the deck beside them, and one of them is holding a tricorder. They clamber to their feet. "Yes, sir?" one of them asks, a little curtly.

Kylah gives a quick bob of her head, silently thanking the captain for her time, and moves quickly out the door to the turbolift, and back to the Bridge.

Seeing Collins in the Captain's chair is disconcerting, even though Kylah knew to expect it. "Lieutenant Collins," she says as she stands briefly at attention. "Captain Singh told me to let you know she wishes you to remain at the Conn. I am to return to duty as before."

That is when she glances at the Communications console and recognizes Garcia. She does a slight double-take, and then gives him a quick smile of acknowledgment--although the way they left things on OCIII was not particularly friendly. Nevertheless, she has never truly blamed him for the potentially fatal mess-up during the chase of Mrs. Hsu; as far as she is concerned, that was all on Kjaerstad.

She immediately shifts her attention back to Collins, and her expression changes to one of friendly concern. "I hope everything is all right," she says softly, adding: "Permission to return to my station, ma'am?"

"He's just like every other professor with a big discovery. He wants to feel acknowledgement for his intelligence and isn't afraid to let everyone know it. A little bit of flattery costs nothing and makes me life easier." comments Rangin while waiting for Zweller to produce the details.

As they start coming through, Rangin starts cross comparing to his won datapad, while chatting to Zweller and asking some questions at the same time

"Ok, Signal overload...that's most of the usual frequencies covered off...So how long have you been working from Dr Brold?"

"Harmonic Resonance...nope, that's a fair few covered there...where are his other assistants or are they getting another chance to look round?"

"Signal Dampening...hmm, might want to look at that further...So how come you wound up working for Dr Brold then?"

"Direct Interaction...I wonder. I can see from the tests that the sensor is just not picking anything up, but I guess the assumption is that the sensor is still working. Could it actually be directly affecting the sensor itself and not just the signal? ... You know, you remind me of someone. Your first name is not Darren is it?"

Collins swivels to face Kylah, and holds out her hands "Kylah," she says quietly for only her roommate to hear "If you want to talk, to vent or whatever, I think I can relate to your loss," she says sincerely, "or maybe not, but I'd like to help you get back to normal." Then in a normal voice, "Yes, Ensign. Take your station." Collins then swivels back to face the big screen to watch Anubis below them.

"I would assume that most of her friends and colleagues are aware of the dire nature of Fujishiro's condition. Speaking with each one individually and allowing them to share their feelings is probably a good beginning. If they are in need of further counseling, I am certain you can assist them," T'Var says.

Lt. JG Garcia yields his seat at the Communications console to Kylah with a polite smile and goes back belowdecks.

Zweller works closely with Rangin and replies, as they go along, "I've been working with Dr. Brold for about three months now, since we started on Gagarin VII.... Don't know where his assistants are today. There doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason as to when he has them with him, and when he doesn't. They didn't come to dinner last night with the Captain, either.... Lt. Patel picked me for the Brold project. She'd read my Academy honors thesis on starship sensor design and pulled some strings with Starfleet Command, I heard...." Zweller looks at him oddly. "Yes, my first name is Darren. We met yesterday, remember?"

Dr. Noel says to T'Var, "All right. I'm afraid I didn't know her when she was... in good health. I'd be glad to compile a list of her Science colleagues; that's no problem. Do you know who her friends are?"

Rangin shakes his head in realisation as he remembers back to the introductions the day before. "Yesterday was a very long day, and I couldn't remember if I heard your name correctly."

He looks back up at Zweller from the datapad readings, "Besides I think we have met before yesterday, although it was a long time ago. First year of the Academy, in '64, I believe, or are there two Darren Zweller's in Starfleet and I'm talking to the other one."

Zweller chuckles. "Nope, I'm the only one. I don't think I remember you from the Academy, though. Sorry. Hmm... were we in Intro to Astrophysics together? Prof. Schiaparelli's class?"

Graham holds up his hands disarmingly. "No need for formality, mister..?" he says affably. "Routine patrol, checking some of the critical parts of the ship..." He gestures toward the console. "Is phaser control here operational or offline while you're making repairs?" he asks in a friendly way.

"Bentley," says one of the techs. "This is Carr." The other man nods. Bentley continues, "Phaser control here is offline while we conduct routine maintenance, but the Bridge still has it."

Kylah is not sure how to react to Collins's brief moment of compassion, followed so quickly by a dismissal as the older woman practically spun her chair away from her. And the talk of loss is confusing as well. Kylah is saddened by the zither's destruction, particularly how it met its demise and that she was, indirectly, responsible. But she hardly puts it on the same level as Collins's miscarriage.

But perhaps she does not feel as Mother did, Kylah realizes. Her mother wanted, most desperately, to have a child of her own. Every unsuccessful attempt seemed to be an assault on her value as a woman, and particularly as a member of a royal family. Collins, on the other hand, was ambivalent about her pregnancy--as far as Kylah could tell, at least before the health crisis that ended it. Still, there is no doubt the miscarriage affected her, and still does. I hope she does not think I would presume to put a musical instrument in the same category as her child, Kylah thinks in concern. I would never be so narcissistic.

All she can do now is thank Collins, the words spoken quietly to the senior officer's profile, before she returns to her station. Checking the status of incoming and outgoing communications, Kylah makes sure nothing has been missed--which she doubts, as Garcia is an excellent officer and more experienced than she is. Her mind plays over the discussion with Singh and wonders if she will be asked back down to the planet. Even if she is, will it be of any use? She can identify the man who exchanged her money, but she cannot identify him with perfect certainty as one of the thieves. Will she have to face him? Any of them? Will they see her? She definitely does not wish anyone, much less the suspects, to know she is there.

Kylah's eyes widen with the new thought: an attack like this, on a Starfleet officer, might have news value. Are there not reporters who track police-related incidents? She is furious with herself, hardly believing she did not think of this before. And of course, people on the ship could share the information with one another, mindlessly spreading the tale. The possibility of being gossip-fodder for the second time in less than a week is too grim to contemplate. Somehow she must find out if this story has been made public.

"I remember that class. The only fond memories I have were of never having to sit it again. They were so dry and there were a lot of better things to do instead." Rangin smiles at the memories of of being bored rigid for what felt likes days on end, even if the reality was that it was only a few hours.

"I also recall a few parties in that first year, you always seemed to be the centre of, which is probably why I can remember you, but maybe not the other way around."

Kylah sees there has only been routine intership comm traffic while she was away. She may check local or Federation-wide newsnets for coverage of her case, if she wishes.

Zweller grins. "I did go to quite a few parties at the Academy, it's true. 'Work hard, play hard,' that's my motto."

"To be honest, I did not know Fujishiro very well, either," T'Var admits. "Perhaps one of her colleagues in the Science Department would be able to tell us of her friendships among the crew."

"Would you look into that, please, then?" Noel asks.

"That sounds rather familiar," grins Rangin remembering some of those parties. "Right, I think that covers the initial suggestions. I'd be curious to know which creatures were being scanned for when it was failing to work? So, let's see what Dr. Brold wants to do next. "

"Well, that's good to hear, Bentley," Graham replies, nodding as well. He takes a half-step as if to leave but then turns back. "Say, speaking of the Bridge, though--and no disrespect to Engineering--but aren't you guys kind of slumming it down here doing routine maintenance?" he asks, pointing once at Bentley's Command gold uniform and then tugging his own red shirt.

"Oh, I can tell you that," Zweller says. "It's a radio astronomy sensor, as you know, but Humans, Rigellians, Vulcans and Andorians were within the scan field during lab tests. And it's not that it failed to work, just that it interfered with biosensors."

Bentley tells Graham, "Phaser control is a Command responsibility on Constitution-class ships, sir. Most of us phaser techs have Engineering cross-training."

Two previous examples of such a crew assignment:

http://en.memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Angela_Martine
http://en.memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Robert_Tomlinson

Kylah's bottom lip is caught between her teeth as she mulls over whether to search for any recent news items. She does not want to be caught researching personal matters while on duty--but she also does not want to be the last to know of any unpleasant surprises.

After a few moments of indecision, she searches the last 24-hour period for any relevant keywords that might bring up the story--if it has, indeed, received any media coverage. Perhaps it is not newsworthy, she thinks optimistically, although she knows that is doubtful. An attack on a Starfleet officer is certainly worthy of coverage.

Still, that does not mean her identity has been released. For this reason, she performs searches including her name as well as omitting it.

Graham smiles slightly. "Well I'd best move on then - if I learn you guys can also cook or sing, too I'm going to start feeling damned inadequate." He gestures toward the console. "Good luck and godspeed with it."

Assuming he's not otherwise interrupted, Graham decides to head toward Life Support on Deck 3--which would be close by the Botany lab if I remember correctly, he notes.

Kylah immediately finds several newsnet references to her case, both on Anubis and in the Federation beyond, with only one story mentioning her by name. Her heart sinks when she sees the publication's title.

Bentley and Carr get back to work. A few minutes later, Graham finds Life Support on Deck 3. The compartment is about five times the size of the Bridge. Pipes and ducts line the overhead and bulkheads. They all run into or out of several large, bulky machines, which, he knows, very efficiently take in, filter, clean and recycle the air, water, and waste products generated by the crew. The Yorktown is a closed-system ecology, and this - and identical facilities on Decks 8, 13 and 21 - is what makes it all possible. Lt. Granai, a female Tiburonian, is the sole duty officer. She says, "Welcome, Ensign. I don't think we've met before...?"

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

The sight of her name on the screen sends Kylah's stomach lurching. She cannot forget the near-miss with the journalist Walcott who nearly published those horrible rumors about her and Palver--and worse, that lurid story alleging a relationship with Fastolfe that so embarrassed her.

At least that nauseating piece linking Fastolfe with a 'curvy ensign' did not use her name, although it might as well have for all the speculation it caused. This blurb, however, offers no such ambiguity. Kylah hesitates before selecting the full text and prays, Please let it be nothing nearly so bad. Finally she taps her console to read the full article.

"That's true. By all accounts the new sensor is going to be a great leap forward, if it didn't have such an unwanted side effects, or a few little glitches to work out." Rangin nods. "Just for note, are we talking about all types of biosensor being affected, from the little ones the Docs use for monitoring an individual person to the large ships sensors, or somewhere in between?"

Rangin wonders what's the best way to approach it. "Hmm, I think I need a test subject, a biosensor and a demo, just to see what happens." Thinking a little further about it, Rangin has a follow up question for Zweller. "If we fire that thing up, it's not going to affect the biosensors in Sickbay is it?"

"I will speak with Lt. Cmdr. Roble about this," T'Var replies. "Thank you for your suggestions."

The Anubis Times, Solar Post, FedNewsNow and Update: Thoth newsnets have short articles on what happened to Kylah, although not mentioning her by name.

The popular Federation tabloid You Know You Want It has a story with most of the facts, although sensationalized. The story closes with, "No word yet on whether the shocking attack on and robbery of Ensign Princess Kylah was related to the Elasian royal's just-confirmed role in dispelling the false murder allegation against galactic megasuperstar Lord Fastolfe, as reported here in YNYWI just last week. Fastolfe claimed his "intimate connection" (and we all know what that means, winkwink) with the nubile young Starfleet officer was responsible for protecting him from a frame-up. Starfleet PR types in San Fran are mum, as usual, and Kylah was unavailable for comment."

Zweller says, "The scanning beams are directed outward, of course. We found that they just affected the larger ship's sensors - not handhelds, tricorders, Sickbay medical scanners or the like."

"Certainly," says Dr. Noel, smiling. "Anything else?"

Pressing a hand to her temple, Kylah stares at the report in numb disbelief. "Unavailable for comment," she whispers, disgusted. "You never asked for a comment!"

Now, in addition to the vulnerability she feels from having her traumatic attack blared across the newsnet, she is flooded with shame at the vile allegations of her "intimate connection" with Fastolfe--and its supposed influence on the investigation. It is worse than ever: unlike before, the insinuation of this so-called affair has been directly associated with her name, her rank, and worst of all her family.

Furious, Kylah slaps at her terminal controls so she no longer must face this invasive report. She does not understand. How could they have swooped down on this story so quickly? She understands that the assault on an officer would be ripe for a story, but how did they get her name? It is as if there is a reporter following her every movement.

Even though she cannot see the article, she has memorized it. She shakes her head in dismay. There is no choice, now; she must contact her Guardian as soon as possible. Unfortunately she cannot prevent others from seeing this squalid little rag, including those on the ship. And of course since it is in the news, it must be true. Yet they cannot even get my title right? It is absurd, I was never called Princess until I joined the supposedly egalitarian Starfleet, and now they will not stop!

Taking deep breaths, Kylah remembers her own thoughts. A reporter following her every movement... You Know You Want It certainly has no staff member tracking her activities on the Yorktown. But there might be someone feeding them information. Someone with an incomprehensible grudge... who has called her Princess.

Nausea builds within her. With a determined frown, Kylah hesitates, then taps her console and logs in to search the crew records, asking the computer to trace any outgoing communications from Lt. JG Mark Ferguson over the past 24 hours.

"Uh, no ma'am," Graham replies, looking around--sincerely impressed. "Ensign Graham. I'm on routine patrol in this area and new to this ship - I thought it would be worthwhile to see some of the critical facilities first-hand."

His brow furrows slightly. "If you don't mind me asking, lieutenant--how do the different locations interact? What I'm getting at is: if 'bad guys' were to seize one life support location, could they cripple life support across the ship, or is it the reverse--as long as the 'good guys' hold one location, we can keep life support functioning as we see fit?"

Kylah sees from the daily Comm summary that Ferguson has sent three offship messages in the past 24 hours. She would have to use an official access code if she wished to look at the recipients, subject lines or contents, which are of course protected under Starfleet privacy regs. She could get in trouble if she did so without orders and for nonofficial purposes.

Lt. Granai is short, bald and interestingly-eared. She says with a note of pride in her voice, "The ship's Life Support systems are independent and doubly redundant, Ensign. This compartment's reach extends from here throughout the primary hull. In an emergency, just this and one other secondary-hull LS plant could provide full service for all 430-some crew. All four may also function simultaneously, automatically dividing up the necessary work. At any given time, though, we usually have three online, and one offline for upgrades, diagnostics and routine maintenance. That's SOP. It spreads the LS burden and ensures that none ever has to run at full capacity if it's not mission-critical."

On the Bridge, Lt. Collins's reverie is interrupted by Ens. Carlos de la Paz, who took over the Security console when she took the big chair. "Ma'am," he says, a little hesitantly, "one of the other ships in this orbital grid is changing its orbit. It's not scheduled to do so, and it looks like it's going to pass awfully close - within half a kilometer of us."

Graham nods approvingly--accepting the general point while recognizing he has no bloody idea how the experts make it all work--that the setup seems to make a lot of sense. "Impressive...ah, and comforting, I must say, as an oxygen-brethaer. I'll leave you to your work, but before I go...as an expert, any advice for Security if we were to be faced with boarders who breathed a different atmosphere and might be trying to seize control of the ship's environment?"

Kylah tightens her fists to keep from breaching protocol and the law by snooping into Ferguson's messages. If he is responsible, let him be damned to the lava pits of the southern continent, she swears. All she can do is copy down the timestamps of the messages, sending them to her own account, and logs out before anyone notices that she is lingering within the crew's database.

All this occurs before she senses de la Paz's unease, and she listens in to his report to Collins. Alert, she changes her focus from her own problems to the ship's, and prepares herself to send a warning hail--once she finds out which vessel is causing the potential danger, and of course awaiting Collins's order.

"Hail them," is the first thing Collins says, and while she waits for contact to be made, "Helm, can we safely move out of their way?"

Kylah tightens her jaw for a second in frustration. "At once, ma'am, when I know which ship to hail. Ensign de la Paz, can you identify the vessel that broke orbit?"

"That's good," replies Rangin with a smile, "I'd hate to have an angry doctor tapping me on the shoulder asking what's just happened to Sickbay."

He nods back to Dr Brold and Lt. Patel, "Thanks for that, it's been useful. Let's see how they're doing and what steps they want to take next."

"No," T'Var says. "Thank you for your time."

Lt. Granai says thoughtfully, "Well... I guess they could reprogram the LS system to provide whatever atmosphere they breathed. That'd take some doing - you'd need to do it across the entire system, all four facilities, or you'd still have an M-class nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere being propagated somewhere. Hmm. If I were boarding the Yorktown as, say, a chlorine-breathing bad guy, I'd want to stay in my spacesuit until I'd killed everybody aboard anyway. Or maybe I'd introduce some terrible virus into the LS ducts, or... let's see. Maybe set explosive charges on the hull and try to blow out all of the air that's already there?" She smiles at Graham. "Those are some morbid thoughts, right? Maybe I should be in Security, too."

Kylah is able to copy the timestamps of Ferguson's three messages without, she's pretty confident, anyone else noticing.

De la Paz taps at the Security panel. "It's the Chorell, ma'am. A Spican freighter." The name rings a bell for Collins, but she can't quite place it.

Lt. Kendin, at the Helm, says, "We can move, ma'am, but should clear it with Anubis Port Control, time permitting." He checks his board. "On its current trajectory, the Chorell's closest point of approach will be in one minute, 13 seconds." He looks over his shoulder. "If I may say, ma'am, an unscheduled orbit change isn't necessarily cause for concern. It happens."

Dr. Brold and Lt. Patel turn to the two young officers as they approach. "Any progress?" Patel asks.

"Likewise," says Dr. Noel to T'Var. "Please send in Nurse Matthews as you go, would you...?"

Kylah nods a quick thanks to the security officer and opens up a hailing frequency. "This is the USS Yorktown requesting a response from the Chorell. Please respond."

"Mister Kylah," Collins says "Please send a message to Anubis Port Control that we had to move to avoid a collision with the Chorell. Mister Kendin, as soon as the message is sent, please move us out of the Chorell's way." Why is that so familiar sounding? It's going to bug me until I remember! Her brow furrows as she watches the Bridge crew do their things.

"Well, remember we'll definitely need some folks with the expertise to counteract that deadly virus while Security sneaks around with pins to puncture those chlorine-breathers' enviro-suits," Graham replies, returning the smile. "Thanks for your time, ma'am."

If he's not interrupted he heads for the Botany lab.

After a few seconds, Kylah has a response: "Yorktown, this is the Chorell. Go ahead."

Kendin says, a little hesitantly, "There's no risk of collision, ma'am. They'll just be passing relatively close by. Did you still want me to shift orbit?"

"Glad to," the Tiburonian woman says to Graham. "Come by anytime."

The Security officer makes his way to the Botany Lab. It is about twice the size of a crew lounge and very crowded, with a verdant assortment of colorful growing things - mostly green, but not all - filling shelf after shelf. Two men in Science blue, an Asian and a Tellarite, are apparently repotting plants. "Yes...?" the Asian man says.

Kylah glances back at Collins and Kendin while she answers the ship. "Your change in orbit means that you will pass within a half-kilometer of our ship. Are you aware of the proximity of your path, or is something wrong and you cannot see us?" She mutes her side of the conversation and offers quickly: "Lieutenant Collins, I strongly recommend that we do not move until we determine the Chorell's destination."

"Good idea, Ensign," Collins states, "Mister Kendin, stand ready." As she waits for the Chorell to respond, she racks her brain for where and when she'd heard that ship's name before.

T'Var leaves Noel's office, then checks in on Fujishiro. The doctor contacts Lt. Cmdr. Roble.

"I would like to speak with you at your convenience," she says.

"I was on patrol in this part of the ship and I heard some rutabagas got out of hand," Graham jokes, hoping these botanists have a sense of humor.

Either way, he smiles gamely and continues. "Actually, it's Ens. Graham - Booker Graham, feel free to call me Booker because I was hoping some of the botany experts could help me with something personal...if you could, I'd sure appreciate it..."

Kylah hears, "Yorktown, yes, we're changing orbit due to a misdirected cargo on the surface. Nothing to worry about."

Collins thinks she might have read of the Chorell in a news report, but isn't sure.

Fujishiro's condition has not changed. In T'Var's best medical judgment, regretfully, the young Japanese woman could die within hours or days.

Roble says, "I'm at your disposal, Doctor. Shall I come down there?"

The Vulcan healer remembers that Dr. Noel asked her to do something before leaving Sickbay.

The Asian man says to Graham, "Welcome to Botany, Mr. Graham. I'm Lt. JG Geoffrey Park; this is Lt. Gral. No rutabagas today, unfortunately." They shake hands. "What can we do for you?"

"Chorell, this is Lieutenant Collins. Was your change cleared with Anubis Port Control? Because your flight path brings you uncomfortably close to our ship. Could you alter it a bit please?" Collins then mutes the audio, and turns to Kylah. "Ensign, would you please search the news feeds for the last week for the Chorell? I seem to recall reading something about them." She then unmutes the audio and waits for the other ship's reply.

"Yes ma'am, we have made progress in as much as I can see what tests you have already carried out and the results and helping me narrow down what I should be looking for next and where to concentrate my initial efforts," replies Rangin to Lt Patel.

"Is there anything you would like to continue with?"

"That would be fine," T'Var tells Roble. "I wish to discuss Mr. Fujishiro with you."

Once T'Var is finished conversing with Lt. Cmdr. Roble, she will advise Nurse Matthews that Dr. Noel would like to see her.

"Yorktown, sorry, we're committed to this new orbit. Don't worry, we won't hit you," comes the reply, with a chuckle.

Kylah finds no news stories in the past month, let alone the past week, mentioning the Spican freighter.

"No," says Lt. Patel to Rangin, "just continue your work. As soon as you have a testable hypothesis, I'd like to hear it."

Nurse Matthews nods in response to Dr. T'Var's request and goes to Dr. Noel's office.

The Science Officer arrives about five minutes later. "Yes, Doctor?"

"Well, like I said," Graham replies, "it's strictly a personal request, so don't feel any obligation. But here's what I had in mind..."

"One testable hypothesis ma'am? I've got four options so far that are worth looking into, although it will probably require some more help from Engineering to set tests up for them." Rangin casts one eye over the sensor and looking to the space beside it wondering if there was a spare bio-sensor array he could purloin for the duration of the testing.

Turning back to Lt. Patel. "The options so far are as follows: Signal Overload, Harmonic Resonance, Signal Dampening, or a more Direct Intervention. Given that you have already carried out some testing into Signal Overload and Dampening, I think starting with possible Harmonic Resonance and Direct Intervention are probably the best ways to start as it will also provide a grounded base to continue any further experiments in determining the cause of the issues."

"The initial hypothesis I'm going to start with is that the new prototype sensor is, in some way to be determined, directly affecting the biosensor array itself when they are both run together. The first test, which can also form the basis for all other tests going forward is to prove or disprove any anomalous effect on the sensor which will also give us the benefit of showing that any test going forward will not be affected by the state of the sensor and that some alternate cause is the reason behind the issue being noted."

Rangin smiles up at Dr Brold and Lt Patel." Yes, I am aware from the readings that it should have no impact on any other array and the signal variations seem to show that, which is why starting from first principles might be of use."

"Any questions?" he politely enquires of the pair.

"Mr. Fujishiro's condition has deteriorated to the point where her death will occur very soon," T'Var says. "I would like to know who her closest friends and colleagues are so that they may spend some time with her now."

Lt. Gral hears out Graham, then smiles as only a Tellarite can, and says, "I think we may be able to help you, Mr. Graham...."

Patel nods. "Sounds like a good approach. Carry on, Mr. Rangin."

Roble's shoulders slump a little. "That's about what I expected, but I'm still sorry to hear it. Poor Iota. Well... I know she was close with Ens. Rachel Hayes, our xenosociologist, and Lt. JG Collins and Ens. Delaney, I think... hmm, and Mr. Pourtash, the helmsman. And Lt. Joseph Bancroft, our astrophysicist, although perhaps not as much as the others. I'd start with them, anyway. I'll pass the word among the rest of the Science Department."

"You didn't answer my question," Collins says pleasantly to the voice coming from the Chorell "Anubis Port Control knows about your new heading, right?"
Nothing in the news? she thinks. That's odd. I could swear I just read something about that ship.
With the intership audio muted, she says "Kylah, please check other sources, like entertainment and science and whatever else you can think of. I know I saw something recently." Collins then signals to unmute the audio.

Five minutes later, Graham leaves the botany lab, with... Do I have a spring my step? he wonders. Sure, what the hell, I'll go for that, I do have a little extra spring in my step.

Rangin nods in acknowledgement. "Thank you ma'am, I'll get right to it." He starts to make out a list of the technical bits and pieces he will need as he starts thinking about the space next to the prototype and the terminal already being put in place to run it. It could probably double up to run both the new prototype and a bio sensor along side it.

On completing the list, he runs through it under his breath, just to make sure he hasn't missed anything.

"Ok, I'm going to require a Mk III Terra Systems Lifeform analysis array, see if we can get it installed alongside over there and cabled in to the sensor terminal desk there and powered up from over there. Hmm, I wonder if Lt. Cmdr. Cheverez has an older backup Mk VI Garudo Sensor System lying around. It's not as powerful, but easier to take apart and figure out what's going on inside it...and if I, err we break it, it's not that important to running the ship. Oh well, go with what we have."

Rangin finishes the list and sends it on to Lt. Cmdr. Cheverez and following straight up by asking to be put through to him on the shipboard comms in order to go through his initial request.

"Yorktown, we're clearing it with APC now," comes the response.

"One minute," Kendin says, looking up from the Helm console.

Graham continues his patrol, definitely cheerier than he was earlier.

Cheverez comes on the line shortly. "We do have those components available, Mr. Rangin. Talk to Ens. Delaney and he'll see to it. If there's anything else you need before we break orbit and we don't have it, we can probably get it on Anubis."

Collins signals Kylah to mute the audio "Mister Kylah, please hail Anubis Port Control." Collins declares. "I want to know what their response was to the Chorell. Mister de la Paz, please keep tabs on that ship. And," she pauses, and decides to say the next as a question rather than an order "If we raise shields, will they intersect her trajectory?"

Kylah performs all the orders.

"Thank you for your input," T'Var tells Roble. "I will certainly contact the crew members you've mentioned."

"No sir, that should be fine, the monitoring capability can come from the sensor terminal that's already here and a few extra pieces of monitoring equipment from the Science labs. I'll talk to Ens. Delaney and start to get it all set up. Thank you sir."

Rangin contacts Ens. Delaney to start laying out what is required. He hopes that Delaney has recovered from the OCIII debacle and is holding up ok given the demotion. Last time they had spoken briefly he was quite down on himself, hopefully this set of experiments would give Delaney a chance to show just how good he is and gain some standing again.

Everyone on the Bridge hears a harrassed-sounding officer at Anubis Port Control say in response to Kylah's query, "Chorell didn't ask permission to change orbit ahead of time, and we've denied permission for them to do so now. They're doing it anyway. We've declared an OTC emergency. You may change your orbit, Yorktown, if you wish, rising 50 km from your current designated orbital station. We're giving permission to other ships along the Chorell's course to do the same."

De la Paz responds to Collins's question, "No, the deflector shields don't extend that far, ma'am. We could certainly raise them, and I think we should. I also recommend we arm phasers, just in case. This could be a ruse to cover an attack."

Kendin reports, "The Black Prince, Saludi and Marigold are all moving to higher orbits. Now 35 seconds to closest approach."

Roble says, "Thank you, Doctor. May I do anything else?"

Delaney says, "Yes, I can get that for you. No problem. When do you need it?" He sounds OK to Rangin.

"Do it!" shouts Collins as she sits up and leans forward, "Yellow alert, raise shields, arm phasers, and alter orbit!" She grips the ends of the chair's arms so tightly her knuckles turn white. Her adrenaline is pumping full force and she feels electrified. She punches the communicator button "Captain Singh to the Bridge please. We may be on the brink of an incident! Collins out."

At Kylah's touch, the Yellow Alert lights begin to blink on all Bridge consoles. The ship's officers and crew are informed by prerecorded announcements of the alert; everyone from the next watch is immediately ordered to duty stations. Graham, on patrol, receives a special Security notification on his communicator.

"Shields up," Kendin says at the Helm. "Thrusters online. Changing orbit now... higher by 1 km... 3 km... 9 km... 16 km...." On the viewscreen, the sunlit arc of Anubis drops steadily from view.

"Phasers charged and ready, ma'am," de la Paz reports from the Bridge's Security console.

"On my way," says Singh from belowdecks.

From her current location in the shuttle bay where she is overseeing some experimental work being run on a shuttle, Nia scowls at the sound of the alerts, and then frowns deeply when her body notices the ship's slight shudder as the impulse engines are engaged. Proprietary toward the Yorktown, she feels a flash of anger and concern. What the holy hell is going on up there, and why is Kendin treating my girl like a roller coaster ride?

After ordering the technicians to pack up, Nia races toward the turbolift to take her duty station for the next watch on the bridge.

While in the lower Galley, Johnson hears the Yellow Alert go off to be promptly followed by the sounds of chairs scraping backwards across the floor as those few people in there head off as quickly and efficiently as they can. He immediately starts running through the procedure to lock down the area to a state of readiness.

While talking to Ens. Delaney, Rangin is slightly disoriented by the sound of the Yellow Alert going off around him and over the communicator.

"We'll talk later," he says quickly before shutting down the comms and turning back to the guests in the Cargo Bay. At least Lt. Patel and Ens. Zweller are Starfleet officers so should be able to handle Dr Brold. "Can I suggest returning to the guest quarters until this alert is over as I will need to head to the Science bay?"

Rangin waits a few moments to see if they react positively or if they have anything further, before making sure the Cargo Bay is shut down correctly and then heading off.

Before T'Var has a chance to respond to Roble, the alert sounds. "Nothing else," she says quickly.

"I will be on the Bridge if you need me," T'Var calls to Dr. Villa as she leaves Sickbay.

Once she reaches the Bridge, T'Var takes her seat at Life Sciences.

Onn and Singh arrive on the Yorktown's Bridge in the same turbolift car. "Report," says Singh to Collins as she strides to the big chair.

Johnson secures the galley quickly and efficiently. Several Science and Operations personnel, designated for damage control duty under Yellow Alert conditions, arrive in the adjoining mess hall.

Patel briskly says to Rangin, "I agree. We'll all go to our quarters. I'd already told Mr. Cheverez to call us if we were ever needed in an emergency; we'll wait to hear from him." They immediately leave the cargo bay.

Lt. Cmdr. Roble leaves on the double for the Science main lab; Dr. Villa distractedly acknowledges T'Var's parting words. The Vulcan healer arrives on the Bridge in the next turbolift car after Onn and the Captain. Life Sciences readings are virtually unchanged since she was last there, she sees.

Collins stands at attention when Singh steps out of the lift, followed by Onn. "Ma'am! The Chorell is making an unscheduled, unauthorized change in orbit. APC is not happy about it at all, and has given several ships, including us, permission to alter our orbits to avoid crashes. The Chorell claims its because of misdirected cargo, and was uncomfortably glib about the potential for collisions. It could be nothing or it could be something illegal or dangerous, or both, and better prepared than caught unaware." As she speaks, Collins steps away from the big chair, making room for Singh to sit.

As the guests leave, Rangin does one quick sweep around the cargo bay to ensure it is all correct and then heads for the Science bay to stand at station in readiness.

He tries to keep his focus as the alarms blare around and tells himself it cannot be that serious, they are still in orbit around Anubis. But his mind still flashes back to the last time he heard the sirens at Alpha Carinae and the M-5 Incident when he lost 50 good friends. Steeling himself he reaches his post with acknowledgement to the others at ready and waits to fnid out what will happen next.

Kylah is an island of stillness in the noise and commotion around her. She has no idea whether this is truly a dangerous situation; the helmsman she does not recognize said only moments ago that the other ship was not on that close a trajectory to them. Better safe than sorry, of course, and it was wise to put up the shields and back away--although the weapons seem excessive. But then, in the space of merely a week Kylah has had her fill of weapons, both used by her and aimed at her.

All she knows about this freighter is that it is from Spica, a very distant system. There were Spican jugglers on OCIII, she remembers dimly. This fact is of no consequence, of course, but it still forces its way into her otherwise blank thoughts. She does not want to remember yet another planet filled with dark memories.

Perhaps this incident will mean they will leave Anubis after all, and she will not have to go back down. This might be a blessing in disguise--as long as nothing truly threatening occurs as a result of this unknown ship's strange behavior.

The turbolift doors open and Kylah senses rather than sees Singh and others arriving on the Bridge. Her head begins to ache again. Too many people, too many jangling emotions and thoughts. And yet, even while so intimately connected to everyone around her, she still feels detached and isolated. All she can do is wait and try to tune out the blaring alerts and the chaos, both internal and external, of her crewmates.

When the turbolift finally lands at its destination, Nia nearly does a double-take when she sees Collins on the Bridge. For some reason she expected some of the same security team from yesterday to be down on Anubis, still searching for Ensign Kylah's third attacker. The thought dissipates and is substituted by more important matters as she automatically glances at the main viewscreen, wondering what's out there to cause such an alarm.

Then, glancing toward the Helm console, her gaze is caught by the sight of apparently the only person not moving, busy, or turning to the captain in taut expectation. This time Nia really does blink in surprise, staring at Kylah. What is she doing here? Shouldn't she be in Sickbay? She was beaten senseless yesterday, and now she looks like the walking dead. Then again, she also seems like the only calm person on the Bridge. Be pretty ironic if she's the person most able to keep her head straight in a crisis.

Pursing her lips grimly, Nia dismisses everything but the matter at hand--whatever it is. Her hands at her sides flex and stretch, fairly itching to get control of the helm, but outwardly she looks cool and patient as she stands at the ready, waiting for her orders.

T'Var continues to monitor the readings at Life Sciences while listening to the conversations around her on the Bridge. At the moment, the situation does not seem to be anything of a truly dangerous nature. However, things are usually not what they seem....

There are no blaring alarms for Yellow Alert; see post 1108. Of the two levels of alert, only Red Alert has a distinctive klaxon.

Singh takes her chair and looks over the navigation plot in front of her. "Thank you, Mr. Collins. How far has Port Control given us permission to move?"

The cargo bay is secure. Rangin goes to the main Science lab and sees Roble and others already there. Some of the younger personnel appear a bit anxious.

Kylah, Onn and T'Var watch the unfolding situation on the Bridge as the Yorktown continues to rise higher above Anubis. Onn notices that the Chorell's course is unchanged.

"50 kilometers" Collins replies. She stands alert beside the big chair.

Nia has been examining the Chorell's course, and the position of other ships including the Yorktown, and her brows lower even further.

"Excuse me, Captain," she says quietly. "I'm wondering why the APC didn't give the Chorell authorization to make this course change. From what I see, their trajectory wouldn't have put us in danger even if we hadn't moved--maybe closer than usual, but not a big risk. And moving us around now is no problem. Does Anubis know something about this ship?" Her eyes shift to Collins, her head tilting slightly in curiosity. "Did the APC say anything about who these people are? What are you finding hinky about them?"

Collins turns to face Onn "The Chorell did not ask permission ahead of time, and when they spoke to APC after the fact, APC denied their request, but the ship ignored them. The APC has declared an OTC emergency. If the Chorell wasn't up to something nefarious, wouldn't they have complied, Sir?"

Chewing on her lip in thought, Nia looks back at the screen. "Probably, Lieutenant. Unless..." She squints as if seeing through to the Chorell's own helm. "Unless they've got some emergency of their own going on, and had no choice but to do what they thought was necessary. If I were on a small ship with some catastrophic problem--warp core breach, maybe--and needed to get out of orbit fast, I might not pay attention to what someone down on a planet told me I could or couldn't do. Safety first, as I'm sure you agree."

She glances back to Collins with an appreciative but cynical smile. "But I'd also probably give a hint of what that emergency is. From what you say, it doesn't sound like they've been too forthcoming. So your instinct's probably right." Nia looks at Singh and gives a nod toward the Communications console, ignoring the bizarrely motionless ensign in front of it. "If I may make a suggestion, Captain: maybe we should get in touch with them directly and ask if they need 'assistance.' They might not tell us, but we all know sometimes tone can reveal more than words."

"We've already spoken briefly with the Chorell" Collins tells Onn, "they say the change is due to misdirected cargo. They were quite chipper about it."

Nia still smiles. "Then if they're so jolly, our offer of assistance should be accepted or rejected gracefully. You don't seem to have considered the possibility that the Chorell might just not have a particularly smart or well-trained crew, Lieutenant. Don't Terrans have a saying about never ascribing to maliciousness what can be explained by incompetence? Let's face it, there are many fools who manage to find jobs on board ships." Her eyes beam amusement. "So that misdirected cargo could be perfectly legitimate. Or yes, it might be some illicit substance as hazardous as solid Trilithium or as inoffensive as bootlegged Lord Fastolfe vids. I'm aware I might underestimate the danger of the latter."

She gives Collins another friendly nod of acknowledgment--her humor is sometimes taken for glibness, but Nia does not take the ship's safety lightly; the lieutenant JG's mood simply seems unusually brittle and Nia believes she needs a bit of calming perspective. Then her attention returns to Singh. "Whatever the case, my recommendation still stands, Captain. Communicating is almost always preferable to ignorance. With more ears on the Bridge now, we might hear something new."

Collins bites her tongue. Onn is senior to her, so the Captain will probably take Onn's advice over anything Collins could say right now. Inside she is starting to develop an intense dislike for Onn's thinly veiled condescending attitude. It may be sugar coated, but underneath it's all bitterness and superiority.

Nia continues without noticing Collins's mood. "In the meantime, one more suggestion occurs to me, Captain. Perhaps Lt. Tsu can plot a couple of hypothetical trajectories for the Chorell, extrapolating from their apparent current course. Maybe we can see what other ships are in their path--and which ones haven't requested a change in orbit. That might tell us who's rendezvousing with them...or who might be a target for uninvited boarding." Although any freighter attempting a hijack of another ship with a massive Starfleet vessel in shouting distance definitely falls in the 'incompetent' category, Nia thinks wryly. "Mr. Tsu, is this possible?"

Lt. JG Melissa Tsu, the navigator, looks at Capt. Singh, who nods. The young Chinese woman checks her board and reports, "No other ship has or is changing orbit other than those we already know about. The Chorell isn't coming as close to any of them as it would have to us, had we remained in our original orbital slot."

Kendin says, "Now at the 50 km mark, ma'am."

Singh's eyes narrow. "Very well. Keep us here. Thrusters at station keeping, Mr. Kendin."

"Thrusters at station keeping, aye." The viewscreen's perspective shifts to show Anubis farther below.

"Mr. Collins, give me a good scan of the Chorell, please," Singh goes on. "Anything out of the ordinary? And Mr. Kylah, file an official complaint with APC as to the Chorell's conduct."

Collins moves to the secondary security station, as de la Paz is at the primary, and taps the panel buttons and fine tunes with the dial to get as much detail out of the scan of the Chorell as possible.

Kylah acknowledges the Captain's order and files the complaint. She does not understand the point--it seems to be mere red tape, considering the APC already knows about the Chorell's behavior and is just as displeased with it as they are. More displeased, probably, considering they refused the freighter's request. Why would they do that? Spite, because the request came after-the-fact?

But Kylah is not curious enough to ask the question, especially since Singh does not seem to find the denial out of the ordinary.

Collins's scan shows that the Chorell is just coming to a halt in a new synchronous orbit, to starboard and about 250 km ahead of the Yorktown. The Spican freighter is about a third the size of the Starfleet heavy cruiser, with a crew of 40. Its holds are nearly empty, and its cargo transporters are now warming up.

Anubis Port Control acknowledges the Yorktown's official complaint. "We have several others coming in now," an APC comm officer says. "The ship's master will get an official reprimand and probably a fine; might even lose his license."

Kylah nods slightly, as if the officer is speaking directly to her. "If I may ask, sir," she murmurs. "Do you know anything about this ship, such as who its master is or why the ship came to Anubis? Spica is quite a long way from here."

While she speaks, her dulled affect regains a hint of its former energy; she seems to be slowly awakening from a deep trance. "Further, have they told you what the misdirected cargo is, and from which ship--or from where on your planet--they will be receiving it?"

Listening to the young officer, Nia shifts her gaze from Kylah to the Captain and back again. Someone's getting her mojo back, Nia thinks. "I doubt it's from the planet," she says very quietly, not wanting to be heard by the Anubis officer. "They've moved farther from Anubis, just as we have. What other ships are closest to the Chorell, Mr. Tsu? And Mr. Collins--any way you can snoop further and get a sense of how powerful their cargo transporter is--its farthest range?"

Only after her last question does she look back at Singh, somewhat abashed. "Sorry to overstep, Captain," she says with a smile. "Shutting up now."

"On it, Sir" Collins adjusts the controls again to determine the answer to Onn's question.

At his post, Rangin looks around and catches the attention of the younger personnel. "Don't worry, relax, it won't be that bad. I'm sure we'll find out shortly what's caused it?" he tells them calmly.

Garham cocludes that in the absence of other instructions, the Bridge is part of the ship's forward hull and on his patrol route. On the one hand, if there's a threat to the ship it makes more sense to take a position there than in the Botany lab. And on the other he'll be just as able to respond to any Security needs from there as anywhere else. He heads to the Bridge.

The Anubis Port Control officer was indeed speaking directly to Kylah, after taking her ship's official complaint. He says, "The Chorell's master is... let's see... Capt. Lannu Plor. The ship is a light freighter, Class 7, and often comes through this sector. We see it maybe every three or four months. According to the cargo manifest they filed, they're supposed to be carrying machine parts from here to Morra III. The cargo was supposed to be waiting for them at the Thoth Central Freight Yards but was apparently misdirected to the Serapis yards instead. Oops, sorry - got to run. Good talking to you, Yorktown. APC out."

Tsu says, "The Chorell didn't go higher or lower than before, ma'am; she just shifted orbit laterally. The closest ships to her now are the liner Deneb Queen, the freighter Luria Trocos and the scoutship Boone."

The Captain seems amused by Lt. Onn's outspokenness. "By all means, carry on," she says.

Collins sees from her scan that the Chorell has standard Federation civilian cargo transporters, with a range of approximately 2000 kms (much less than Starfleet's).

Rangin's words seem to calm his colleagues a little.

"Thank you, ma'am," Nia says automatically to Singh, and then adds with a murmured, "Laterally. Better get my eyes checked." Deciding she's of no use while being polite, she closes the distance between her and her console--Kendin's console, that is--where she can get a better look at both the Helm and Nav screens. "Hope you don't mind the company," she says to both Tsu and Kendin, smiling while bending down for a closer look.

Yup, Tsu is of course correct. She shakes her head and shrugs. "Well, the ship's obviously no unknown entity to Anubis. Would've been nice to hear if they had any reputation for doing stuff like this before, although I guess our contact must be understandably busy." Nia straightens and aims her words at Singh. "The whole thing could certainly be malfeasance, Captain, and it's smart to protect ourselves as we have. But this could just as likely to be due to sloppiness or arrogance--not unusual traits in some pilots, present company excluded." She smiles down at Kendin and puts her hand on her own chest to indicate herself. "In all seriousness, if we're still concerned about this, maybe we could contact these freight yards to confirm the facts."

Rousing herself while listening to the talk around her, Kylah adds softly, "If the Chorell is involved in contraband, the local police might have heard of them. We could also contact the--the Thoth police, since we have... business with them anyway." She looks down at her panel, hiding her flushing face.

Singh nods. "Yes, please do, Mr. Onn. Work with Mr. Kylah, if you would. Check the Federation Commerce Authority's and APC's records, too."

A records yeoman enters from the turbolift, and the Captain turns to talk to him.

Without straying too far from his post, Rangin heads across to Lt. Cmdr, Roble and quietly asks. "Sir, have we been given any reason for the Yellow Alert?"

"Aye aye, ma'am," Nia says, then gives Tsu and Kendin a nod of thanks before heading over to the Communications console. Unconsciously she slows down a bit, as if there's a field of heavier gravity surrounding the Elasian ensign. On some instinct, Nia keeps a few feet of distance between her and Kylah.

It really is beyond Nia's comprehension that the girl's been allowed back on duty. Nia's sure Thalen would've given her time off if she asked, so it's obvious that Kylah wants to be here. But... she isn't really here. Even with Nia approaching, Kylah barely acknowledges her with a slight bow of her head. Her shoulders and arms are squeezed tight against her body. She needs one of A.J.'s massages, Nia thinks, although the likelihood of that happening seems minimal.

"That was a good idea about the police," Nia says, her voice a touch more gentle than usual. After noticing Kylah's lips turn into a straight line at the mention of the cops, Nia decides on a plan. "Let's split up the tasks, okay? Why don't you contact the freight yards first, then check the FCA and APC records as the Captain suggested. I'll contact the Thoth Constabulary. How's that?"

After a pause, Kylah seems aware that the question isn't just rhetorical, and some kind of verbal response is necessary. "Yes, Lieutenant Onn." She hesitates, then moves her chair over, giving Nia room to sit at the empty seat beside her.

Nia has no intention of breaching the invisible wall that Kylah has erected around herself. She reaches over to the secondary earpiece and mic, then stands a respectful distance away. "Can you connect me with the constabulary? I'll do the talking once connected," she adds quickly.

This gets Kylah's attention at last, and the wide dark eyes aim themselves at Nia for the first time. In only a couple of seconds, they appear to measure Nia's intentions and meaning. It's almost a physical sensation, and Nia doesn't particularly understand or like it. It reminds her of something she cannot name. But with a blink Kylah's gaze softens. "Thank you," she murmurs before turning away and hailing the Constabulary, asking them to wait for Lieutenant Onn of the Yorktown. After a few gestures on the panel Nia doesn't follow, Kylah throws a quick glance at Nia. "They are ready for you, ma'am."

Nia nods and, before she starts to speak, notices that Kylah has already moved on to contact the Serapsis freight yards. Disengaging her focus from the young woman, Nia pays attention to her own task. "This is Lt. Onn. We have a bit of a situation up here--this has nothing to the criminal investigation from yesterday," she says quickly as she turns away from Kylah and lowers her voice to explain the issue with the Chorell.

Once she outlines the problem, she concludes: "Whether or not misdirected cargo's to blame, we're not comfortable with their actions, and neither is the APC. Such unwillingness to play by the rules and disregard other ships' safety might mean they've got something to hide. What we'd like to know is, have you heard anything about contraband flowing in and out of either the Thoth Central or--" Crap, what was the other name? Serape, Sepalis... oh yeah. "Uh, or the Serapis Freight yards? Does the Chorell ring any bells? Or its captain, Lammu Port?"

A light touch on her arm makes Nia turn in surprise. Kylah is looking at her and holding a hand over her speaker. "The name was Lannu Plor," she whispers. She looks embarrassed, as if she's the one who screwed up.

Nia gives a rueful grin and raps her knuckles against her head as if it's made of wood. Thanks, she mouths before quickly correcting herself. "Hold on, sorry, that name is Lannu Plor." She enunciates it carefully.

While she speaks, she hears Kylah's soft voice in the background asking someone--presumably at the Serapsis Yard--if any unexpected cargo has arrived. Nia notices the ensign is simultaneously typing a message, and from what Nia can see, it appears to be a records request directed at both the APC and Federation Commerce Authority.

Nia shakes her head, getting confused by all the requests. She puts a hand over her other ear so as not to be distracted. "So," she says with eyes closed in concentration, "with this info, could you please check any files you might have on the ship or its captain? The APC said the ship's been to Anubis a few times, so if they're doing anything dirty, we figured they might've come to your attention." She shifts her weight to her other hip and waits for a response, curious to see what answers Kylah will get as well.



Credits: Nia by SidonianGal, Kylah by choie. We cooperated really well! :D

The Science Officer says to Rangin, "No. It's probably nothing. But let's find out." He hits a comm button. "Roble to Bridge." The call comes to Kylah. "May I have a status update, please?" he asks.

FCA records show the Chorell has been in service under various masters for almost twenty years. APC had only one other problem with the ship, three and a half years ago, when it didn't file a flight plan upon leaving the system. Capt. Plor was in command at that time, too, and was reprimanded. Thoth Central Freight Yards confirms that a cargo of machine parts was accidentally misdirected to the Serapis yards yesterday; a bored-sounding foreman there says that the Chorell will be beaming up its cargo shortly.

Kylah is referred by the Thoth Constabulary to Det. Walter Detmers, who says, "There's been some talk on the street over the years about the Chorell being engaged in smuggling, either weapons or rare lifeforms if I remember right, but nothing has ever panned out. We don't have an open file on the ship."

T'Var continues to scan her panels at Life Sciences for any abnormal readings while listening to those around her.

She makes a mental note to contact Fujishiro's friends and begin the process of dealing with her eventual demise once the Yellow Alert has ended. T'Var is uncertain as to why this task has fallen to her rather than Dr. Noel. However, the objectivity and lack of emotion from a Vulcan might actually be useful during such a difficult time.

Kylah thanks the various contacts she has spoken with and relays the information back to the Captain. A glance shows that Lt. Onn is still talking with the Constabulary. She is not sure what to think of the older woman--she is keeping her distance, literally and figuratively, and the smiles she gives to others do not seem to come as readily toward Kylah. Not that Kylah would return them if offered; she is finding it an effort to blink much less use the myriad facial expressions that humans and other races other than Vulcans are prone to.

Then Roble contacts her, and she inhales, trying to think of the shortest way to recap what has happened. "Sir, we have been tracking a ship near our orbit that has made an abrupt and unauthorized change in course, and could have put us and other vessels at some risk. Thus far we shifted our own orbit, putting us out of danger, and are performing due diligence to see if this is has further security implications. Do you wish to speak to the Captain, sir?"

I assume the Thoth Constabulary guy is actually speaking to Nia?

"Weapons and rare lifeforms, huh? I don't think we have anything out of the ordinary they'd be interested in, so that lets us out." Well, I suppose I count as a rare lifeform, Nia thinks with amusement. Good luck to anyone trying to nab her for some display case. The impossible task of beaming through the Yorktown's shields would be the least of their problems.

"Well, thanks, Detective. You've been a great help. The ship's behavior has been somewhat unexpected, and had it behaved even more erratically it could've caused a lot of trouble--if the rest of its neighbors' crews weren't on our toes, not to mention the APC. But it doesn't sound as if there's any immediate reason we should be concerned, from what you're telling me and if I'm overhearing my colleague correctly--she's talking to the various freight yards, I think, and the cargo story checks out." She pauses in thought. "I don't know if you have any pull with any stations near the Serapis Freight Yard, but if they happen to scan this misdirected shipment... y'know, just for safety precautions considering this is an unexpected arrival... they might solve the issue. Or not."

Nia is about to cut the call when curiosity urges her to continue. She turns away from Kylah again, lowering her voice. "As long as I have you... I know it's not your case, but do you know how is the investigation into our officer's attack going? Can we be of further assistance? We're bound to stay in orbit until that's cleared up, or at least until we're no longer deemed necessary."

T'Var sees that all readings are normal. The move to Yellow Alert has gone well throughout the ship, from what she sees.

The Science Officer says, "No, that's all right. Thank you, Ensign. Roble out." Rangin overheards Kylah's report.

Det. Detmers says to Onn, "Thanks. I'll suggest it, but we'd need a warrant to scan private property." To her last remark he says, "No, you're right, it's not my case, but it's one of the biggest ones we've got going right now. I hear there've been some developments. You might be hearing more shortly from the detective on the case, Whatshisname."

This name, Nia remembers. "Lunnd," she supplies readily, although still keeping her voice quiet. "That's good to hear. Well, assuming the news is what we're hoping for." She takes a deep breath. "Whatever the case, Det. Detmars, I'm sure I speak for my captain and crew when I say how much the Yorktown appreciates your Constabulary's help with everything. We're, um, not usually this much of a strain on local police, I promise." Leaning one hip against the console, she gives a sheepish grin. "If we should ever come 'round your corner of space again, try not to dread our arrival too much, okay? Lt. Onn out."

Assuming Detmers has nothing further to say other than 'goodbye,' Nia disconnects and looks over to the captain, although she can almost feel the weight of Kylah's stare on her. The ensign must have heard Nia despite her attempt at discretion. Nice going. Well, she'd find out once I reported anyway...

Nia straightens and, once Singh is no longer talking with the yeoman, will fill in the captain--along with the rest of the Bridge--on what she's learned, such as it was, from Detmers.

Rangin listens in to Kylah's report, wondering what is going on up on the bridge and why she is there given all that happened over the last day or so. "I'll start letting the others know sir, should put a few minds at ease."

Unless told otherwise by Roble, Rangin begins to let the others in Sciences know what is going on and hopefully lessen the tension and nerves.

Det. Detmers says with a chuckle, "No problem. There are some notorious ships around here, but the Yorktown isn't one of them... not yet, anyway. Glad to help."

"Thank you, Mr. Onn," Singh says to the Sidonian afterwards.

"Yes, please, Mr. Rangin," Roble says, "and thanks."

Another half-hour passes, and there is no change in the Chorell's position, or any suspicious activity shown on sensors. Singh orders the ship to secure from Yellow Alert, asks Collins to again take the conn, and leaves the Bridge.

About two hours later, Thoth Det. Lt. Mara Ruthen calls and asks to speak to Kylah. "I have a photo array of suspects and would like to show them to you," she says. "May I come up there, or would you like to beam down here?"

Collins steps over to the big chair a little less enthusiastically now, aware that she is no longer the ranking officer on the bridge, but the captain still picked her. She imagines Onn shooting virtual eye daggers at the back of her head. A small shiver, unnoticeable to others, rides Collins' spine. She does not relax into the chair as she did earlier.

Withe the news received, Rangin heads round and lets the various crew know what is happening, that it is not that serious and they can relax slightly.

After the Yellow Alert ends, Rangin contacts Ens. Delaney and asks if he can meet him in Cargo Bay 4, next to the new sensor to work out the requirements Rangin was suggesting and sort out how it will all be set up. He is also aware that Dr Brold is going to want an explanation of the alert as well.

T'Var heads to Sickbay and contacts each one of the crew members Lt. Cmdr. Roble mentioned to her. The doctor does not give a specific reason, but asks each one to see her in Sickbay when they have a free moment.

Delaney can come by Cargo Bay 4 whenever Rangin wants. Dr. Brold soon returns there with one of his assistants, and Lt. Patel and Ens. Zweller a little after that. Brold grumbles a bit about the alert but doesn't seem too put out.

Roble had suggested that T'Var contact Ens. Rachel Hayes, the Yorktown's xenosociologist, and Lt. JG Collins, Ens. Delaney, Mr. Pourtash the helmsman, and Lt. Joseph Bancroft, the astrophysicist. She does. Delaney says he'll come by later. Bancroft doesn't immediately respond. Hayes and Pourtash arrive in Sickbay almost simultaneously, a few minutes after the Vulcan healer calls them, and they greet each other. "What can we do for you, Doc?" Pourtash asks.

Nia is, to put it mildly, surprised when Singh orders a stand-down of Yellow Alert and then leaves the Bridge. She doesn't contradict Singh aloud, just watches poor Collins take the chair and wonders what Singh and Vargas could be thinking, placing so much of a burden on a young woman who herself only just left Sickbay herself after a pretty serious trauma. Kendin is sure to gripe about being dissed for a junior officer yet again.

And where the hell is Vargas during all this, Nia thinks--not for the first time in two hours. The ship's on Yellow Alert and our Chief of Security doesn't bother showing up or contacting the Captain, much less his ACOS? I swear, that guy should just offload himself onto Anubis now and save us the retirement party, because his mind ain't on board this ship anymore.

Before she leaves her temporary duty, she walks up to Collins. Nia may not have considered this incident an imminently dire situation, but she sure as hell isn't going to just assume everything's hunky-dory without double-checking. "Lt. Collins," she says in an undertone. "With all due respect to the Captain, I think it was precipitate to end Yellow Alert before we made sure that the Chorell did what it said it was gonna do. May I suggest raising the shields until we get a confirmation from the Serapis yard--and I'd recommend contacting the Chorell again as well?"

Even with yellow alert over, Graham decides to visit the Bridge: he recalls that some Security officers don't include the Bridge on routine patrol, on the grounds that they don't want to intrude on the top brass and the it will almost certainly have whatever level of Security whoever's sitting in the big chair feels necessary. Graham disagrees, however: patrol is about showing up, he thinks. It's less about the bad guys and more about reminding everybody that Security's here and available for...well, whatever, from getting the proverbial cat out of the tree to fighting Klingons...

It's a role in which he's both comfortable and practiced. As the door to the Bridge slides open, he instinctively plays what he sees as his part: standing just ever so slightly on the balls of his feet, good posture, right arm just a tiny bit back from where it would otherwise be in order to minimize the time and motion required to reach his phaser. But he's neither belligerent nor edgy: the point is confidence, calm...

He looks straight ahead for a moment, taking in the whole space, scanning for signs of anything amiss, and then looks from left to right. He's a little surprised to see Collins, Nia, and Kylah all on the bridge, and Collins in the big chair--but not unhappily so.

He's intending to go "by the book" and check in with the captain--or, in this case, Collins--but stands by at a respectful distance as Nia is in the middle of telling her something sotto vocce.

Kylah, who was about to contact the Serapis Freight Yard herself when she heard from Det. Lt. Mara Ruthen, hesitates in alarm. "I--I do not know which is better, ma'am," she stammers. "That is... either way I am glad to assist you, but I will have to clear it with my superior officers. If you will allow me a moment, I will contact you after consulting them."

She disconnects and stares at the console for a moment, then continues what she was doing before she forgets. "Yorktown to Serapis Freight Yards," she hails, not realizing that Lt. Onn is suggesting this even now to Collins. "May I ask if the Chorell has indeed beamed up the cargo as planned?"

While waiting for Collins, Nia hears the turbolift doors opening and she glances casually behind her. A brief smile appears when she sees Graham, and her eyes warm considerably. But she quickly returns to face the junior officer beside her, not wanting to be disrespectful. She does hear Kylah contacting the Serapis, however, and her smile increases. She's not dead to the world after all. Good in a crisis. Just like Collins was, if a bit over-edgy, but who can blame them? Nice to remember that sometimes the juniors outdo their alleged superiors, she thinks, still irked by Vargas and Singh's apparent laissez-faire attitudes.

Before Collins can answer Onn, she hears Kylah's conversation. "Well, there you go then." She smiles at Onn. She says to Kendin "Please keep the shields up, Lieutenant, until we know this matter is under control." Collins feels her communicator vibrate with a message. She reads what T'Var has sent and replies: I am unable to get there just now as the Captain has given me the Bridge. But I will get there as soon as I can.

I'm answering as if Collins has responded as per the Setup thread edit

Nia holds her response until Collins responds to the text communication. She then nods gratefully at the younger woman. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Permission to leave the Bridge? Off-duty calls." The request is purely perfunctory, since she's already been discharged by Singh, but she smiles anyway and, assuming Collins grants her leave, pivots and heads toward Graham on her way to the turbolift.

"Ensign," she says in a soft murmur. "Always a pleasure to see you. Missed some thrills, but hopefully you'll find something else to get your heart racing before the day's through?"

Collins just nods in the affirmative rather than actually say "dismissed" since Onn was halfway to the steps by the time she could respond. She then has an idea. "Are we able to scan the freight yards for any suspicious materials?" she asks of everyone on the bridge "And are we able to scan inside the Chorell to see what else they might have in their hold?"

Graham shifts smoothly into parade rest while Nia and Collins finish their conversation. He departs from his "by the book" demeanor to glance toward Kylah--who seems a little nervous--and give her a reassuring wink.

Or at least, shit...I hope it was reassuring, he thinks after the fact, realizing that he has no idea what if anything winking means on Elas.

He almost breaks form again when Nia offers a few...parting words. He clears his throat. "Uh, yes ma'am," he replies as if her comments were all business, hoping no one overheard--he offers a tiny smile just to ensure he knows he got her meaning.

He waits until there's an opportune moment and also offers Collins a slight smile: "Ensign Graham, assigned to patrol this area of the ship this watch. All's well on the bridge, ma'am?"

A front-office drone at the Serapis yards boredly confirms that the Chorell has beamed up its cargo.

Kendin snaps the proper switches and says, "Shields up, aye."

Lt. Cmdr. Roble, who has taken up his Science station on the Bridge, says, "'Yes' to both questions, Mr. Collins."

Kylah thanks the drone. She is glad to have checked--assuming otherwise would have been foolhardy indeed. She then turns to Lt. Collins, pausing only for a second to register that Lt. Graham has arrived. A flicker of relief runs through her, but she shifts her gaze to her roommate in order to focus on the matter at hand. "Lieutenant, they have beamed up their cargo, but... perhaps we should contact them and ask if they will be leaving soon? Or returning to their original orbit? I suppose it would be just as inconvenient to shift everyone again, but I think considering their erratic behavior, they should be tracked. Regardless of the legitimacy of their need to shift orbit, they do not seem to be very responsible."

After another hesitation during which she is all too aware of the hypocrisy of her judging anyone's responsibility, Kylah swallows and gets up, moving with clasped hands toward the captain's chair. "Also," she adds in a near whisper, "I have been contacted by the Thoth police about... everything that happened yesterday. They wish me to look at some photographs to identify someone. I have the choice to go down to them, or to have them beam up here. May I have your permission to consider either one? Do you think I should speak to Cmdr. Vargas? Of course this would be after I have finished my task regarding the Chorell situation, but..." She glances at Graham hopefully before looking back at Collins. "...But before I choose, I would like advice from--from someone experienced."

"Mr Graham. How nice to see you" Collins says unironically. 'You only missed a small kerfuffle, no biggie." She smiles at him.

"Thank you Commander. Do so, please."

To the news of the cargo, she says "Thank you Mr Kylah." Then after Kylah makes her plea "Of course," Collins notices Kylah's glance towards Graham "you have permission. And please talk to whomever you need to to make this easier for you. I'd like to suggest having them come up here, but whatever you decide is good." Collins reaches out a hand to touch Kylah's reassuringly.

Kylah inhales quickly when Collins's fingers make contact with hers, but while there is still a rush of garbled emotions transferring from Collins to Kylah, as well as a painful throb behind Kylah's eyes--fortunately much duller than yesterday--the contact is bearable. Especially because it is well intentioned.

"Thank you, ma'am," Kylah says, and with a rare need to confide in her colleague, adds in a whispered rush, "In truth I would prefer not to return to a place of such shame and fear." Flushing at the admission, she takes a step back and returns to talk of her duty. "Do you... do you wish me to contact the Chorell, Lieutenant?"

"In a moment," Collins tells Kylah. "Let's see what Commander Roble's scans turn up first."

Nodding, Kylah is about to start back, but then hesitates. "Ma'am, excuse me, but--I overheard Lt. Onn's discussion with the Thoth police. They were unwilling to scan the cargo without a warrant. Do we not have such a legal restriction too, performing such a search without permission?"

At once she feels a pang, remembering undertaking the opposite side of this very argument with Velir back on OCIII. Skittish after Hardin's unusually powerful phaser had left her and Graham unconscious and ill, Kylah had wanted to scan the hotel security staffers and especially Mr. Hsu back prior to the hunt for Vice Admiral Hardin; Velir had objected. And he had been right to do so.

Kylah's aching loneliness and desire for his companionship and advice almost makes her cry. Instead she forces herself to continue as professionally as possible: "I understand it would be useful, but would whatever we find, assuming it is contraband, be deemed the product of an illegal search--and thus inadmissible as evidence against them?"

"Yes, but we won't seize. We'll just hand the Anubis authorities their probable cause and they can do the rest."

Roble, overhearing, says, "A Starfleet vessel may lawfully scan any Federation-flagged vessel in space for any purpose. We have greater legal authority over civilian shipping than a planetary police force, in that sense. The Chorell has Spican registry and fits the bill. Shall I proceed, Mr. Collins?"

"By all means, Commander" Collins tells him. "Have at it."

Rangin informs the guests what the Yellow Alert was about if they didn't already know. Then he contacts Ens. Delaney again and asks him to come to the Cargo Bay when he can, in order to get an idea of what Rangin is looking to do.

Kylah walks up to Mr. Graham and looks at him. "I am sorry to be a bother, but may I speak to you in private for a moment, please? I need your advice," she says, her voice low and anxious.

Graham returns Collins' smile with a nod and one of his own. A note of concern intrudes into his otherwise cheery demeanor as Kylah asks to speak with him--clearly upset.

I don't think this was what Nia had in mind about getting my heart racing, he thinks.

"Of course," he answers quietly, matching the volume of Kylah's voice. He turns and extends an arm toward the Turbolift, indicating she can lead the way.

With a tight nod to thank Graham, Kylah enters the Turbolift and waits for him to follow. When he does, for a few frozen seconds she has no idea where they should go; her mind blanks on the location of any private space. Then she blurts "Deck 13," remembering that it has the advantages of being far enough away to allow for some travel distance--assuming there are no stops--and harboring one of the crew lounges.

Once the doors close and the Turbolift is in motion, she continues in a tense rush of words, her eyes never leaving Graham's. "The Thoth police have contacted me. Just moments ago. A new detective, not Detective Lunnd. What happened to him?" The question is more to herself than Graham, and is so unimportant she does not know why she asked it.

"She said they wish me to look at photographs of suspects and asked if I prefer her to beam up here, or if I would go down to the planet. What do you think I should do? If I do recognize someone, and that person is charged, is either method more likely to be challenged by a defense attorney for being less... objective? And what if I am wrong?" Kylah's gaze shifts to the turbolift walls. "I do not want to return to Anubis. In truth... I do not want to be beamed anywhere," she whispers. "I am afraid it will feel like it did when they--when they took me."

Graham's actually relieved to hear that Kylah's concerned about the Thoth investigation: at first he worried Rangin might be up to something, or even that there would be something new and even worse...

"Well, look, ah, the change in detectives could be as simple as a shift change. Or the case got kicked to someone who's been involved in similar cases before." He offers encouragingly, "I'm sure it's no big deal."

He can see she's more concerned about going to the surface--or not. He rubs his chin. "Well..." He shakes his head. "If it's just photos, I don't see much of an issue. In-person, yeah, I've heard about challenges--usually from worlds and folks that don't look much like your typical Federation city or starship, you know, ah, sort of 'you put a two-headed purple guy with three-inch fangs in a lineup in a Starfleet conference room, how could he not look suspicious?'"

He clears his throat, noting her last, barely audible words. "Uh, and--listen, it can take awhile, for anybody--doesn't matter what: a shuttle drop, beaming in, dropping out of warp... Once you experience a real, uh--a real bad scene, believe me, we all--everybody--gets the jitters about what led up to it. I've seen some real badass--- uh, accomplished officers wrestle with those feelings." He gestures--hopefully--reassuringly--and adds "I'm sure you'll get over it."

After a moment's pause, he adds "If you need some company--well, if they come up here, I'm assigned to patrol in the forward primary hull. I'm sure I could just happen to be on hand, if that helps."

Kylah listens intently to every word Graham utters. When he offers to join her, her relief is so great she steps toward him, almost grasping hold of his arms, but then the door opens and she hurriedly changes the motion to walking out of the Turbolift. Searching for some relatively private corner of the corridor, Kylah waits until again Graham is beside her.

"Yes, please, Mr. Graham. I would be so grateful. I do not have an advocate and you are the only person who... knows why I was down there," she continues quietly. "That is what I fear, too. The only one I could recognize would be the man who exchanged my money, but I cannot say with certainty that he was among those who attacked me. And what if he threatens to reveal--"

Kylah does not finish the sentence, afraid someone might overhear. Besides, surely Graham understands just how cowardly she is by now. She shakes her head, hugging herself. "I hope you are right, sir, that I will get over this. Please do not tell anyone, I should not even have told you. I am putting too much of a burden on you, I am sorry. Right now there is no one else... I thought there was, but..."

She holds back from mentioning Velir--she knows what Graham thinks of him. "But despite how different you and I are, I do trust your word. I am not used to trusting others. There is usually a price. I would pay it, but here I do not know what you would want from me." Staring up at him, her gaze vacillating between hopeful and wary, she inhales deeply and asks, uncertain: "You have done me many favors. Is there something you want?" Please say no, she begs silently. Or make it something that will not demean me...

Graham starts to smile reassuringly and nod slightly as Kylah speaks, then freezes and blinks, totally taken aback by her question.

He's not sure how to respond, and several different thoughts run through his mind.

No wonder why a sick bastard like Rangin gravitated toward her...

At least I'm good for something, I'm at least making a difference being here for her now...

What the hell kind of experience did she have on Elas, or for that matter, has she had in Starfleet?


Graham's silent for a moment, then reaches with his left hand to raise his shirt on his right side. He pulls it up to his armpit. The skin from just above his waist, along his ribs, almost to the armpit is a little glossy, smoother than the rest, a little tighter and less flexible than the skin of the back and chest on close observation.

"I, ah--Federation docs are pretty great, but even they couldn't get the skin to be quite right. It was--well, melted, basically, by a disruptor blast." He lowers his shirt and shakes his head. "But I just got winged."

He rubs his chin and adjusts his shirt. "I went to the Academy with this guy, Billy Coogan. He--ah, and well we served together too, and he was kind of a partier, it seemed like all he was in Starfleet to do was get a free ride to a different planet where he could pretend he was three ranks higher than he was to get lai- uh, to meet women."

He looks up at the ceiling for a moment before turning back to Kylah. "Billy stepped in front of me and took the shot. We were flat-footed, ten feet in front of--well, it doesn't matter, but he knew what he was doing. Full on almost point blank shot that was meant for me."

"He, ah--he lived, uh, basically...but never served a day again. He's hooked up to--well, stuff, just to stay alive...even our docs couldn't replace or regrow as many organs as were damaged." He clears his throat. "I asked him...later, he's hooked up to all this shit just so he can breathe and get his bowels evacuated, 'why did you do it?' And I asked: what could I ever do to make it up to you? And he said, 'Booker, despite what you think, I joined Starfleet to do the right thing.'"

He takes hold, very gently, of Kylah's shoulders, remembering Billy Coogan and Fiona as well, and looks down at her face, holding her eyes. "I joined Starfleet to try and do the right thing. I may screw up a lot, but you can count on this: there's a never a price on helping you, or anyone."

The effort is such that he wants: a drink, to lose himself watching Bennett read in the Arboretum, to talk to Nia...

He lets go and clears his throat again, stepping back to give her some space. "Just let me know when you need me for this," he says, quietly. "I'd best get back on patrol till then."

Roble says, "Scanning now... the freight yards are quite large; stand by, please." After several minutes he reports, "I see nothing suspicious, Mr. Collins. Palleted dry goods, foodstuffs, machinery, lumber, various ores, prefab colonial housing and the like." He cross-checks with the Library Computer. "It all seems to match up the yard's public manifest of goods in transit. As for the Chorell... sensors show her hold is full of refined metal, plastic and ceramic components... hmm, yes, consistent with machine parts, as listed. No indications of contraband either in the yards or on the freighter, ma'am."

Delaney replies to Rangin, "I'll be there shortly." Five minutes later, he walks into the cargo bay, a datapad in hand.

At first, when Graham begins to bare himself to her, Kylah inhales sharply as her hopes sink, weighed by heavy disappointment. Dismayed, she does not want to look, but after a few seconds she does--and sees the disfigurement, the shining skin that does not belong on a human body.

The tale of his colleague should not surprise her. One of the greatest womanizers during her Starfleet years proved to Kylah that he was a swine--and yet, he was almost universally admired for being a leader, a man of genuine charm, intelligence, talent and bravery. For all that Kylah despised him, it would not be a shock to learn he later performed such a courageous act after graduation. Perhaps it is the same with this Mr. Coogan.

Then Graham's hands grasp her, lightly, and immediately Kylah's temples burn and she feels the swell of nausea at the inevitable overloading emotions. With Graham they are guilt, protectiveness, concern, anger, and even despair. He is not happy about having to help others like this--it reminds him of something he wants to forget.

When he releases her she stands her ground. "Thank you, Mr. Graham," she says, drained. "I am very sorry. Sorry that you--you were hurt..." Her fingers reach toward his side, not daring to touch him. "Sorry for your friend, who suffers so. And--and I am sorry for insulting you." Kylah looks down when Graham's face turns into a blur. "I am forever misjudging people. I push away those who mean well, and trust others who harm me." What good are my powers if I misapply and misinterpret them?

She lifts her chin and tries a weak smile. "I truly appreciate this, Mr. Graham. Not just that you help me so often, but that you do not bear a grudge against me when I misjudge you the way I have. Throughout my life, people have taught me that one wrong move would make others hate me. And that has proven true, just recently." Kylah almost loses control and sobs at the thought of the ease with which Velir turned against her. But she gathers herself and focuses on Graham. "But you... you forgive. More than that, you protect me, despite my faults, and not because of how I can profit you. I wish there had been someone, when I was young..."

With a shake of her head, she blinks away the tears and lifts her chin. "I should let you go. As for when this identification will take place, I think it will likely be soon," she says reluctantly. "I must ask Lt. Thalen for permission to attend to this, and I suppose--since it is a security matter, letting some detective beam up to the ship--Cmdr. Vargas as well. Hopefully he will allow you to be with me during the questioning."

The thought that Vargas might prefer to be there himself sends a chill through her, but she knows she has no control over that. With another attempt at a smile, she thanks Graham again, and--just before returning to the Turbolift--reaches out, her small fingers squeezing his hand in gratitude for a fleeting moment. Kylah than almost darts into the Turbolift to return to the Bridge.

You're still young, Graham thinks as Kylah sprints away.

Oh..and isn't Lizzy till young too, Booker?

"Is there anything dangerous or lethal that can be made from those components, Mister Roble?" Collins still hasn't figured out why the Chorell is gnawing at her memory. She looks over at the communications station - Kylah hasn't yet returned - and wonders if the search of gossip, entertainment, and science pages turned up any references.

T'Var decides that it's best to be blunt.

"Mr. Fujishiro is dying. She does not have long to live. As her friends, I wanted to let you know so that you may spend some time with her. I am sorry. If I can do anything to help, I am always available."

Rangin looks and up and smiles as Ens. Delaney enters the room. "Mr Delaney, good to see you again," Rangin comments with a appreciative nod while still trying to get past the feeling he should be calling him sir.

Introducing them individually, "Mr Delaney, this is Dr Brold, whose new prototype sensor we'll be testing. Lt Patel, Ens Zweller and..." Rangin thinks quickly back to the introduction. "...Yold, I believe."

Rangin brings up his own datapad with his workings. "Let me show you what I had in mind."

Roble says thoughtfully, "I don't think so... but many things can be turned to evil purposes by a determined wrongdoer."

Hayes and Pourtash are both very saddened to hear T'Var's news. Hayes looks like she might cry. "I knew things were bad," Pourtash said, downcast, "but I always hoped she would recover."

Kylah arrives back on the Bridge and resumes her post at the Communications station. Her search for references to the Chorell in the Federation gossip, entertainment and science databases come up empty.

Delaney politely greets the others. "I'm Veled," the younger reptilian says. "Yold is a little taller."

Kylah realizes she has already checked the gossip/entertainment sites back when Collins asked her the first time. She is annoyed at herself that she was so absentminded that she did not report earlier.

When yet again the search yields nothing, she contacts Lt. Thalen and Cmdr. Vargas by text to inform them of the request by the new Thoth detective, and asks for permission and advice on how best to respond. She also asks for permission to have Graham accompany her, whichever way they prefer her to view the photos--on board the ship or down at the Thoth station.

Cmdr. Vargas defers to Kylah's direct superior, Lt. Thalen, who says, "Do whatever you're comfortable with, Kylah, since the detective gave you a choice. And if you'd like Mr. Graham to be present, that's fine. I'll come too, if you like."

Kylah thanks Thalen for his kindness and says that while she appreciates the offer, the fewer people around her, the better. Glad that there is no security objection to having someone beam aboard, she then contacts Det. Lt. Ruthen and explains that her preference is to remain on board the ship, if possible. "If you let me know how much time we will need," she adds nervously, "I can arrange for a conference room. Then once you are ready, I... I suppose you can beam up and I will meet you. Is there anything I have forotten? Will there be anyone else with you?"

Whatever the detective's response, Kylah will make the appropriate arrangements for both a meeting room and Ruthen's transportation (along with any other person who might accompany her).

"Let me ask you all," Collins says conversationally to the bridge crew, "have any of you heard of or about the Chorell before this whole brewhaha? I have this nagging feeling I just read something about them recently."

"I do apologise," Rangin says to Veled, "I hope I will get it right next time."

Following that Rangin points out the equipment that he would like Delaney to set up if he can. Starting with the Mk VI Garudo Sensor System placed at one point alongside Dr Brold's prototype and both hooked into the console that Lt. Cmdr. Cheverez mentioned. Power from the conduits on the one wall, and Rangin will also be taking the sensor apart to add some extra telemetry to see what might be going on when both sensors are run simultaneously.

It will take a little time to get everything set up, but Rangin is sure Delaney will be more than capable.

Thoth Det. Lt. Mara Ruthen tells Kylah, "Fine, I'll come up there, then. I'm ready when you are."

Roble says, "I sort of remember having heard about the Chorell before, but I couldn't say from where." No one else on the Bridge speaks up.

Delaney rubs his chin and says, "Sure, I can do that. Shouldn't be a problem." He gets a toolkit from a bulkhead storage compartment and sets to work.

"I understand," T'Var replies. "This is a most difficult time." The doctor pauses a moment. "Would you like to spend some time with her? You are welcome to do so whenever you'd like."

Kylah acknowledges Ruthen's response and asks for her coordinates so that she can pass them along to one of the transporter engineers.

Assuming Ruthen supplies this information, Kylah will then get up and walk the few feet over to Collins to explain what is happening. "I know we must lower our shields to beam her up," she will add. "Do you think it is safe?"

"Let's find out," Collins replies, "Commander Roble, is the Chorell still in orbit and is it stable? We're expecting a beam up so I want to be sure it's safe to lower the shields now."

Thanking Dr. T'Var, Hayes and Pourtash both decide they will spend some time by Fujishiro's bedside now.

Ruthen says, "I'm at Thoth Constabulary HQ," and reads off the coordinates. "You can lock onto my police communicator whenever you're ready. Just tell me before you do it, please."

Roble nods. "The Chorell has not moved again since taking up her new orbital position. She is unarmed and poses little if any current threat to the Yorktown."

Graham's not sure he's really been worth shit in terms of concentration since his conversation with Kylah--fortunately routine patrol in the heart of the ship is, well, usually pretty routine, he thinks. Rather than hailing her, which he figures might interrupt her duties back on the bridge, he sends Kylah simple text message.

Let me know where and when, I'll be there. BG

It occurs to him out of the blue that it might be nice Nia for advice.

Kylah thanks Collins, still quiet, and returns to her chair to double-check on which conference room is available, and--after confirming her hold on it--which transporter engineers are on duty, hoping that she will not be stuck with Ferguson. Whoever it is, she will ask him or her to please be prepared to beam someone up from the planet, coordinates pending Kylah's arrival at the transporter.

She then feels the alert on her communicator. A little leap of hope makes her heart quicken, but she clamps down on it before checking to see the message. Of course she is grateful to see Graham's note, and replies It should be any moment now, thank you. I am heading to the transporter to beam her up. Then she tells him which conference room they will be using.

As she puts the communicator away, she does her best to force away the inevitable disappointment caused by that fleeting absurd fantasy that Velir will contact her again. Her mind is better used to prepare herself for what might be a disturbing experience.

"Lieutenant Collins," she says, "with your permission, I will meet the Det. Lt. Ruthen at the transporter room."

Hey GM, I clearly need info provided here. What transporter room and which conference room are we using?

"Granted," Collins replies, "Mister Roble, please lower the shields."

Roble nods to Kendin, who says, "Lowering shields, aye."

Having reserved Conference Room 2, Kylah goes to the Yorktown's Transporter Room 2, which is nearby. Chief Nguyen is on duty. "Ready to energize, Ensign," he says.

T'Var allows Pourtash and Hayes some privacy as they spend time with Fujishiro. She heads back to her office. T'Var has been thinking a lot lately about life and death. Death is always a distinct possibility as a member of Starfleet, but to die at such a young age with so much potential lost....

The doctor ponders her own life. What does her future hold? Finding a suitable mate? Having children? Enjoying a long and distinguished career as a Starfleet medical officer or dying well before her time? T'Var thinks of Andrew Johnson. Where will their relationship lead? They are very different from each other in many ways. Can she see herself spending a lifetime with him?

T'Var pushes these thoughts away for now. She is on duty with work to be done. She will definitely meditate more on her life and future when she is off duty and can focus fully on it.