Star Trek RPG - Mission #6: "Marala"

This has escalated quickly, Nathaniel thinks. They are supposedly here to help but were about take this ship by force. Things could never be easy in Starfleet, could they? But he guesses they had no choice given that the Sarafina, for whatever reason, is refusing to respond. But whatever the reason, it probably is only going to make this difficult mission that much harder. Nathaniel doesn't think now is the time to tell Nia his information about the other ship, especially as it probably isn't too helpful right now. So he guesses it is best that he waits and sees if they are about to get into a firefight with this other ship. Not that he hopes anyone would get hurt, but at least then, he'd actually have something to do worthy of his skills.

Nia shakes her head in a combination of disgust and disappointment. Why do they always choose the hard way?

"Time's run out, Captain Bell. And so has my patience. I have the feeling you think I was bluffing. That's not my style--not when thousands of lives are on the line." This in itself is a bluff, being a complete lie. Nia considers bluffing one of her best skills.

Her fingernails have again dug themselves into her chair arms, but at least she can get away with this since these Sarafina bastards can't see her. This time the gesture isn't out of tension, but anger.

"Crew of the Sarafina," Nia snaps with the force of a combat instructor. "You're now under command of the USS Yorktown's Captain--and me, as her acting C.O. I'm sending over a team of officers to make sure everything's secured, and also help you get your ship ready to handle the evacuees."

Nia leans forward again. "Since we need to beam over, you will now lower your shields and prepare to be boarded. Don't even think about giving our boarding party any trouble. You're outmatched in every way."

She glances down at her chair's comm panel, wishing she could see Booker. Does he agree with her tough stance? Should she negotiate more?

But she can't see him, and in the end she has to go with her gut. Which is telling her loudly: Seriously, fuck these guys.

"I'm granting you a minute to acknowledge my order and comply. That extra time isn't for you, Captain. I'm allowing your crew time to convince you not to risk multiple felony charges as well as damage to your defense systems.

"Because make no mistake, Bell: If those shields aren't taken down in sixty seconds, we'll do the job ourselves." She turns her head to Jones, lifting an eyebrow at him. "Lt. Jones, prepare photon torpedoes."

Nia will wait for Jones to respond before ending with a final word. Nothing says "do whatever the hell I say" like hearing that torpedoes aimed at you and ready to fire.

Just shy of a minute later, Kylah is hailed by the Sarafina. It is Capt. Bell.

Given the tension on the bridge and the commands being thrown at the Sarafina, Rangin drops his voice as quietly as possible to Lt. Dahlquist.

"No sir, Not a cargo of people. Oxygen." Rangin tries a different tack knowing the difference in lives that could be saved.

"The hold will carry two hundred people in a breathable atmosphere that is only 20% oxygen. If we filled the Sarafina's entire hold with pure oxygen, you could carry enough for a thousand more people on the Yorktown. All we would have to do is stop every so often to transfer fresh oxygen to the Yorktown and let the Sarafina act as our supply ship."

He looks directly to the officer next to him, suddenly realising how they can save everyone. "Sir, pressurise the amount of oxygen in there to 10 or 12 atmospheres and you can carry enough for eight thousand people. Everyone on the colony."

"Sir, we're looking at the wrong cargo. We can do it, can't we?"

Dahlquist frowns. "Pure oxygen in those quantities could be a major fire hazard over there, and cumulative body heat, CO2 accumulation and scrubbing, sufficiency of food and water, and adequate waste treatment are also important factors in determining our own LS capabilities. But... well, let me run the numbers." His fingers fly across the Engineering console's controls.

Nia, who's spent the last fifty-three seconds trying to defuse the tension on the Bridge--this is, after all, a relatively low threat situation, even as grave as their mission is--gives a crooked smile.

"Well well. Look who's suddenly interested in a chat. Hold him off for a second, Kylah--his turn to sweat. Jones--I know you'd've told me if anything's changed, but just in case they had a last-second burst of self-preservation, what's the current status of their shields?"

Jones says, "Their shield status is unchanged, ma'am - still up and fully charged. I have two photon torpedoes, with warhead yields specifically calibrated to knock down their shields, in the tubes and ready for launch." The young black Security officer grins confidently. "Just say the word, and they're on their way."

There is a small inaudible sigh of relief from Rangin as Lt Dahlquist finally gets it. The conversation with Lt. Onn about Starfleet officers and their fixed viewpoint, comes to mind, although perhaps they are not that fixed in their ways. But this is a real chance to save more people than anyone else thought. Of course, the issues Dahlquist was looking at now were ones that Rangin had already thought about and raised in the conference room.

"Sir, not might be, will be. Oxygen in that quantity will be a major hazard on the Sarafina, which is why I also asked about forcefields for containment as well."

He pushes some of the figures he had been looking at earlier to the console. "As for carrying more people here. Body heat can be countered by lowering the ambient temperature of the ship in certain areas, where people are. Food is not going to be an issue, except for the very young and infirm, everyone else can starve for a week if they absolutely have to, although the Colony is going to have more than enough resources if we need to get more. Water; we have a swimming pool which can hold enough water for everyone for a week, if we can keep it pure enough. As for CO2, we scrub what we can and vent the rest; same goes for waste products. Throw it overboard, so to speak."

Rangin can feel that tingle of excitement running down his spine, the possibility of pulling something off that is supposed to be a miracle by thinking laterally around the problem.

"Well sir...?"

Nia lips tighten when Jones confirms the Sarafina's shields are still up. His comments about the Yorktown's weaponry changes her expression to amusement. She likes a guy who's that proud of his specialty. She feels the same, although don't ask her to choose piloting vs. tinkering with engines.

"Music to my ears, Mr. Jones. Be ready--if this needs to happen, we're gonna work fast to make sure we catch these--" She censors herself. "--these people flat-footed." Nia leans closer to the comm on her chair.

"Chief Harrison, Lt. Graham and our boarding party: once we get those shields down I want you in there almost immediately. We'll make sure there's no structural damage to the ship first, obviously, but otherwise, let's execute this as smoothly and quickly as possible. Chief, wait for my 'go.'"

Nia straightens and faces the Communications officer. "All right, Ensign Kylah. Put 'em through. With video, if they allow it," she adds dryly.

Kylah nods and accepts the hail. "Captain Bell to Lt. Onn," she murmurs with a wide-eyed look at Nia.

Folding her arms across her chest, Nia turns to the screen.

"Mr. Bell. You like to push your luck, don't you?" Her tone hardens. "I've warned you, sir. Our crew, my captain, the might of the Yorktown--hell, the entirety of Starfleet regs are backing me up. But still your shields aren't down. I want to know why."

"Understood, ma'am," Jones says, his grin broadening. "Standing by."

Bell appears on the Bridge's main viewscreen, looking slightly scruffier than before, but definitely angrier. "Mr. Onn," he says, "I don't appreciate all these threats and harassment. I'm just trying to go about my business and I really don't want to be badgered by Starfleet. I've got business obligations and a route to keep that doesn't include a return to Novy Rostov, regardless of any so-called 'emergency.'"

Dahlquist says quietly to Rangin, "This has some potential, Mr. Rangin. Let me run it by the Engineering planning group belowdecks and see what they say." He begins pulling the data together and preparing a message to his colleagues.

Why in the world did these people insist on making this thing so difficult. And what damn mission could he be on that he'd ignore a Starfleet ship bearing down on him?

Yet, Nathaniel barely hears the voice of the man that has appeared on the viewscreen in response (finally) to Nia. His attention is distracted by the task at hand (not that the ship they are pursuing can really provide them any supplies for this mission, they didn't even have a doctor for Christ's sake) as he sees Joe sitting at his station. Nathaniel is unable to believe Joe hadn't noticed him before or that Joe hadn't even tried to get Nathaniel's attention with a simple 'hi'. There was a time all Joe wanted was Nathaniel's attention.

Nathaniel would be lying if he couldn't admit he has thought about Joe a lot since seeing him the other night. It brought back a lot of memories.... so does see him sitting so close, looking as good as he does. And yes, Joesph Bancroft was one of the most handsome men Nathaniel had ever known. And Joe doesn't know it, or more likely, doesn't care. And that makes him even more good looking.

Nathaniel knows this isn't the time or the place, he certainly couldn't wander over and chat Joe up. But Nathaniel fixes him with a look, hoping to take Joesph's attention to what he is doing. Nathaniel wants a nod in his direction. That winning, seductive smile. Anything.

Graham takes his place along with the others on the transporter pad.

Breathe. In, out. Nia reins in her temper, lets it work for her rather than control her. "Your persistence in ignoring our urgent hails is what brought us to this point, Mr. Bell.

"My apologies for disrupting your commercial activities," she adds dryly. "But a planet that's about to have its population extinguished is a higher priority."

She steps closer, not far from the backs of her usual seat at the Helm. "Speaking of that population, Bell: have you forgotten your own crew member? The one still on that planet? You're really gonna let him get fried by a radiation storm? I wonder if the rest of your crew knows they'd be left to die if it's fiscally inconvenient to you."

Nia shakes her head. "This is wasting time. Federation law is unequivocal under these circumstances. Your ship's a vital and necessary resource in an emergency situation, and we must commandeer it to save hundreds of lives.

"The only choice for you is whether you cede to my orders and assist our officers, or force us to come in without your cooperation. We'd prefer friendly assistance, and so should you. If you commit the felony of refusing to act as ordered, I won't think twice about taking you--and anyone else in your crew who interferes with this imperative mission--into custody."

Nia flicks a glance at Mr. Jones, raising an eyebrow to give him the heads up. Then she returns to this irresponsible, greedy joke of a ship master in front of her.

"Now, Captain Bell," she says implacably. "One last time. Take. Down. Your Shields."

Bell looks even more irritated. "Just a damn minute. I need to know, what about my cargo? What about my timetable? The owners of this ship aren't going to be happy if I just turn around. My holds are full of Telperion hardwoods. That's expensive stuff, almost a million Federation credits' worth. I have to get it to Morra III."

"What about your cargo? Some fancy wood?" Nia would laugh if the situation weren't so bleak. "You'll dump it, that's what you'll do. We're all making sacrifices."

She inhales again, letting her brain race through the procedures she's learned by heart years ago. "...But you won't be required to lose everything. Starfleet'll evaluate the cargo listed on your manifest and give you fair-market value as compensation. The process works fast, so I've heard. If you have a problem with the offer, you can appeal."

She cocks her head in thought. "Hell, if you cooperate fully, we can place a marker buoy or a homing beacon on the load once it's dumped, so you might be able to find it on the way back from--"

Nia interrupts herself with a grunt of annoyance, furious that she's been caught up brainstorming a ridiculously unimportant problem, She leans forward, her hands landing on the edge of the panel in between Leventhal and Cecilia Bennett, arms stiff and her neck muscles tight.

"Goddamnit, Bell! Eight-thousand people would love to have as many options as you do. Now we are done talking about a pile of overpriced lumber. No more arguments, no more questions. Make your decision!"

She calms down a level, keeps her voice frozen. "Remember, we're using the Sarafina either way. Will you cooperate, or do you want this to end with you in our Brig?"

Still and quiet at her station, Kylah watches Lt. Onn and Captain Bell--but mostly Lt. Onn. The older woman reminds her a little bit of her mother and cousin. And her sister. Really, most well-born women on Elas. Strong, adamant, single-minded, and somewhat calculating if necessary to achieve their purpose.

I used to be like that, she thinks wistfully. At least a little. How did I change so much since I came onboard?

Noticing a hushed conversation between Lt. Dahlquist and Velir, Kylah takes a quick little glance at them. Does Velir know how strong his emotions are broadcasting? So excited, energized, even... proud. Why?

What are you planning? she wonders, wishing she could just ask him outright. But their conversation needs to be quiet. Lt. Onn said she did not want the other ship to hear anyone but herself. Perhaps Captain Bell made the same order.

But maybe... maybe he didn't.

Kylah pushes her earpiece closer and, with one hand, taps the commands to strengthen the subspace connection in hopes of picking up any crew discussion or private comments from the Sarafina.

Meanwhile she stares into the human male's intense, angry eyes. She has been able to sense emotions from ships farther away from the Yorktown than this ship is now. As a child on Elas, with weaker powers than she has now, she could sense her parents just before their Yacht--

Kylah shudders and quickly wipes the memory away. With renewed effort she pushes her mind outward, doing her best to focus on Captain Bell.

Bell shakes his head. "That's easy for you to say, lady. I dump it, and hard vacuum is going to ruin it in no time at all. And the Federation is sure to low-ball my compensation, if I get any at all. To hell with that." He scoffs. "I know how that works, and I'm not going to let you boss me around and threaten me. You're 'way out of line."

Kylah can hear only the faintest echo of other background voices on the Sarafina's bridge, but too quiet, even with computerized audio enhancement, to understand.

Her psi sense suggests that Bell is much as he appears: angry, irritated and stubborn, with an underlying, deep greed.

Rangin can breathe a sigh of relief as it appears that Lt. Dahlquist has finally understood what he is trying to explain.

"Sir, when you receive any kind of answer from Engineering, let me know the details. I'm running some simulations on the best kind of numbers we can fit based on the people in the colony. Would be good to update them with some more positive values."

Nia sighs as Bell's words turn into mental static. Okay, so we're doing this.

"And that's strike three. Well, you can't say I didn't try." She shakes her head ruefully. "Our conversation's over. Ensign Kylah, get his face off our screen."

Once Kylah cuts the connection, Nia steps back so she's closer to the captain's chair, snapping out as quickly as she can:

"Kylah, please note the following for the record: In response to a planetwide emergency that puts the Novy Rostov population at risk, the USS Yorktown has commandeered the merchant vessel Sarafina, following the law and procedures permitted by both the Federation and Starfleet. Despite multiple requests, the captain of the Sarafina refuses to allow us to board, defying our orders. Since they're failing to comply, the Yorktown is acting accordingly."

Inhaling deeply--she rushed all that out in only a couple of shallow breaths--Nia turns back to the viewscreen and the now-familiar sight of the Sarafina.

"Right. Formalities are over. Mr. Jones, take down those shields. Chief Harrison, on my mark."

Bell disappears from the viewscreen mid-glower.

Bancroft notices Nathaniel's gaze, meets it and smiles.

"Acknowledged, Lieutenant," replies Chief Harrison from Transporter Room 1. To Graham and the others on the platform he says, "Stand by, please, everyone."

"Aye, ma'am," Jones says, his hands carefully moving over his board. "Safeties off. Torpedoes armed. Target locked... firing now." The two photon torpedoes race from the Yorktown's forward tubes, in seconds covering the short distance to the Sarafina. They smack into the merchant ship's aft shields with a brilliant, simultaneous pair of flashes. "Scanning now... aaand their shields are down."

"Confirmed," agrees Bancroft, having turned back to his Science board. "Given the pattern disruption, sensors indicate it will be at least two minutes before they can be raised again, Mr. Onn." He looks at another display. "And they're dropping out of warp... no other sign of damage, though."

"Thanks, gentlemen." Nia nods, satisfied and showing a cool demeanor that hides her rising anxiety. "First, let's not plow through their ship." Much as I'd like to. "Leventhal, cut speed till we've halved the distance between us, then match them."

She sits down and aims her words at her chair's comm unit. "Boarding party, one last reminder. If they so much as move a muscle in an unfriendly way, stun them. We don't need them either vertical or conscious." After a second she adds, "See you on the other side."

Her hands grip the edges of her armrests, mostly to keep them from trembling. Once the party's beamed out, she's effectively helpless. Nia can't help envisioning Booker getting hit in the leg during the Klingon fight, memories that are neither useful nor productive. You'll be back, she promises him--or prays to him. Just stay alive.

"Chief Harrison." Nia's gaze doesn't move from the Sarafina. "Energize."

Leventhal says, "We've already overshot them, ma'am. Looks like --" he checks his instruments, "-- yes, they've stopped entirely. Coming about now." He takes the heavy cruiser out of warp and skillfully turns her about, in just half a minute bringing her to face the Sarafina's bow from ten kilometers away - a few degrees to starboard so that, if the merchant ship moves again, she will not collide with the Yorktown.

"Energizing," Chief Harrison says over the open channel to the Bridge, and the Yorktown's boarding party disappears at once into the shimmering transporter effect.

Graham and his fellow redshirts materialize in a small, dimly-lit chamber. You could each practically touch the nearest bulkhead. There is no one else there. Graham first notices that the deck feels slightly grimy underfoot, and then catches a whiff of a faint but unpleasant smell. St. Croix, phaser in hand, wrinkles her nose and says "Phew!" The ship is none too clean, from what you can already see.

Accessing the Sarafina's deck plans on tricorders, the boarding party quickly orients itself. You are in a maintenance junction on A Deck. Two corridors, also dimly-lit, lead away from the compartment in opposite directions, each with several doors along the way. The Bridge is forward of your current position, and Engineering directly aft, both on this deck, each about 50 meters away. There are two decks below this one - living quarters, crew spaces and machinery, mostly, on B Deck, and then storage space and access to the eight large cargo holds, four on each side, on C Deck.

On the Yorktown's Bridge, Kylah has an incoming subspace call from a Dr. Denise Cobb of the Novy Rostov Memorial Hospital. The call is meant for Dr. Bennett.

Kylah quickly redirects the incoming request. "Doctor," she says quietly to give Dr. Bennett a heads-up. "Dr. Cobb from the Novy Rostov hospital for you."

She watches the viewscreen while the Yorktown maneuvers itself to face down the smaller ship--like a bully threatening the scrawniest child in a schoolroom. Except this time, the child is selfish and greedy. Please let Lt. Graham be all right. All of them, she corrects mentally, but there is no denying her concerns are greatest for Lt. Graham.

Rubbing her sore eyes, still puffy from all the crying yesterday, Kylah suddenly looks up when a thought occurs to her. Does this doctor's contacting Dr. Bennett mean that they all know about the disaster that lies ahead of them? Should Kylah contact Aldaan's... friend? Perhaps they can think together of a plan.

Would such a contact anger him? I am not defying his command, if I do not ask her whether she told my uncle about the situation... am I?

She turns to her panel and again, hidden from view, opens her communicator in her lap to read her uncle's message again. It, of course, has not changed.

What should I do? What can I do? she thinks in misery. I do not solve problems, I cause them.

In her anxiety, Kylah unconsciously turns to Velir. He would find a way out. Judging by the hushed conversation between him and Lt. Dahlquist--though she cannot hear it--they seem to be hatching some sort of plan even now.

Velir's plan, no doubt. Kylah does not mean to idealize him; yes, he is stubborn and judgmental, and--despite his slowness to anger--can turn cold and shockingly cruel when provoked. Or when misunderstanding others.

Still, in all the time she has known him, Velir Rangin has also proven himself to be intelligent, analytical, practical, quick-thinking and inventive when it comes to problem-solving. Especially when it involves helping others in need.

Kylah's gaze fixes on the 3/4 view she has of his profile. I would go to you in a heartbeat, Velir, if I dared.

But she does not dare. How could she possibly explain her dilemma? She cannot imagine his approving of an attempt to get one wealthy, highly influential person to safety, ahead of all the others who deserve to be saved just as much. It would be antithetical to him.

But... but what if he did not know? What if Kylah described the woman as a friend of the family, as Uncle Aldaan called her? As long as Velir did not ask how she learned about this Mrs. Soeryadjaya, she would no be disobeying Aldaan. Or would I?

It would be breaking faith with Velir. Something she has done too often. But this is life or death--both Ruth Soeryadjaya's and, if Kylah has read Aldaan's implied threat, Kylah's own.

She closes her eyes and imagines Velir reacting to yet another lie. But how would he find out? One possible answer: his new, strange psionic ability. She is not certain just what he can do, but if his skills are anything like hers, he might be able to catch her in a lie.

Then again, maybe not. Kylah has lied to so many people, both outright and through omissions, she could probably fool Velir. She would hate herself, but she could do it.

And she may have to.

Kylah sees there are two more incoming subspace calls from Novy Rostov - from a Patricia Collins, and a Walter Harris. She does not recognize either name.

Graham nods appreciatively at the tricorder readings indicating the bridge and engine room are on the same deck. "Right on Broadway," he says.

Graham uses his communicator. "Boarding party to Yorktown, we are aboard."

He gestures in the direction of the bridge. "St. Croix, you're with me, first order of business seize the bridge. Russell, de la Paz - you follow behind us, clearing these rooms. Mahmoud, Three Crows - hold here. Nobody sneaks up behind us and keep us honest on life signs. Once we have the bridge, you head for the engine room with Russell and de la Paz clearing the rooms behind you. Any questions?"

Rangin heads back to his science console to see how his simulations are running. Looking through the setup they seem fine, although he looks forward to being able to tweak the numbers with anything new Engineering can come up with. And with the Sarafina there, he hopes Graham and his team can take the ship safely without damaging the cargo bays at all.

But somehow, it's like he is missing something, though he can't quite place it. A feeling of discomfort that, just perhaps, some people should be rescued as they more important than others. He had said earlier how he would categorise people and every life should be considered although whether they should be considered equally is a matter of opinion, from child to adult to even the one left behind from the Sarafina, another person that would have to be saved.

Only they were not a member of the colony and Rangin wonders for a moment if his figures are accurate if extra people are missing from them. It wouldn't be beyond some people in the Colony to not mention any visitors if it meant that others might be saved. If there are, they could be out of luck of any random draw that would occur, which could hardly be considered fair. But who would know or even could find out?

Looking around, he can see Kylah looking at him, while beyond her, the console lights up and he wonders what communications she is dealing with. But still, she might be able to help out with any flight plans logged for the Colony, after all she looks like she wants to speak to him anyway.

Rangin heads across to see if she is free.

When Kylah sees the name Patricia Collins, of course the first thing that leaps to her mind is Collins? As in Lt. Collins?

Immediately following that is the understanding that any connection between the two is extraordinarily unlikely. She even remembers a Collins or two at the Academy, who could not be related to Jeremi Collins either.

Still, if for no other reason than to remember her former roommate, Kylah chooses to speak to Patricia Collins first.

"Hail received, Novy Rostov," she says hesitantly. "This is the Yorktown."

No one in the Yorktown's boarding party has any questions. They all appear to be ready to move. Russell, looking at the lifesigns indicator on his Security tricorder, says, "No one's moved significantly since the ship's earlier scan, sir. There are still four people on the Bridge, three aft in Engineering, and one in what appear to be personal quarters, a deck down."

Dahlquist is looking over projections and simulations shared with him by the Chief Engineer's working group belowdecks.

A serious-looking, middle-aged black woman in miner's garb appears on one of Kylah's small Communications console display screens. "Yorktown, hello, this is Lt. Patricia Camden, Starfleet Security, serial number SS224-8723MLL. My cover name on NR is Patricia Collins. I've been undercover here for almost three months, looking for a fugitive, Paul Hutchinson, a Starfleet officer who poisoned his wife and son - allegedly - and disappeared from Starbase 9 about two years ago. I was following up on a solid lead which placed him here after a full identity swap. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find him." She clears her throat. "I've heard rumors that the colony is now under threat and is about to be evacuated. I request immediate evac myself, and I'll help you screen any other evacuees to find Hutchinson."

Eyes wide open, Kylah listens with growing concern to the rush of details with which Lt. Camden is flooding her ear. She shakes her head no in disbelief and dread. Her hand quickly taps at her datapad to enter the serial number and the name of this fugitive for when she has time to research.

She is also aware of a presence near her, and she turns around, shock still evident on her face, to find Velir. Again she shakes her head, this time at her crewmate, if only to communicate that she is dealing with something unexpected.

Which makes nearly a half-dozen such surprises today alone.

"A murderer," she says shakily. "Ms.--Lt. Camden, of course I wish to help, but I--" Kylah twists around to look at Lt. Onn before returning to Velir, then her screen. "We cannot evacuate anyone immediately. We have left orbit, temporarily, to gain assistance. But even if we were able, I am not the one to..."

Kylah swallows. She did not anticipate dealing with such a plea, and is not prepared. "I--I will speak to my current command officer, but..." Again she lifts her gaze to Velir. She cannot help herself, he grounds her. In fact, he seems to be reflecting her own feelings back at her--through his own lens of rational, considered logic.

The answer flashes to her mind. She places her clammy palms on her knees and breathes more naturally. Without a word, Velir has helped her.

"...But what I recommend," Kylah says directly to Lt. Camden, "is to speak with our First Officer, Cmdr. Vargas. He is our Chief of Security, and he is on the planet now. May I contact him and connect you?"

Even as she speaks she lifts her now-dried hands and types in Paul Hutchinson Starfleet murder family into the news database.

"Yes, please, Ensign," Camden says. "I didn't realize you'd broken orbit, and the NR comm system didn't point that out when I placed this call. And what is your name, please?"

The Federation News Service, Solar Post and other media sources have several stories on the Hutchinson murders which confirm what Camden said. Hutchinson fled Starbase 9, where he was an Engineering officer, just hours after the poisoning deaths of his family. Starfleet Security investigators were unable to turn up any other suspects. Hutchinson's possible motive, and his source for the poison, were not disclosed publicly. A Federation warrant is still pending for his arrest on two counts of murder and one count of obstruction of justice.

Distracted by what she reads onscreen, Kylah takes a second longer to respond. "Yes--yes, forgive me, I should have identified myself. I am Ensign Kylah. I will contact Cmdr. Vargas immediately."

She starts to access the First Officer's communicator, but hesitates before completing the connection. "But--ma'am--do you believe Mr. Hutchinson has been on the colony all this time? Since he fled two years ago? If you send us an image, we might be able to help locate him."

While speaking, she glances up at Velir and points at the news item on her screen, a little waving gesture beckoning him closer.

Rangin looks down at the screen with the story on it and pieces it together with the one-sided conversation he can hear Kylah having. His eyes widen in wonder as it certainly answers the question he is wondering about, just not in the way he expects. As he hears Kylah mention contacting Vargas, he nods intently in agreement with the course of action regardless of who is at the other end of the connection.

He waits patiently as she handles the call, perhaps not surprised she is flustered given the surprise that is in front of her, but impressed to see her recover quickly. Of course, this just hastens the requirement to find out just who is in the colony that would not be expected.

So many permutations and possiblities of people who could be there, but in reality it boils down to two sets of people: those who should be taken regardless and those who will be forced to go through some sort of choice. Of course, who gets to be in the first batch is a choice he would dread to make. But there is little he can do until she has finished.

Camden reaches offscreen and taps at her communicator's controls. "All right. I've uploaded the last picture we have of him, which is from his Starfleet personnel file. It's likely he looks much different now, probably unrecognizably so. The best information I have is that Hutchinson has been here just a year or so, maybe less."

Graham gives the team a thumbs-up and starts down the hallway, phaser drawn, toward the ship's bridge.

Kylah thanks Lt. Camden and hurriedly directs her to Cmdr. Vargas's communicator, introducing her beforehand: "Excuse me sir, a Starfleet Security officer needs to speak with you about an urgent matter."

While she speaks, she looks at the image of Pete Hutchinson, trying to imagine if she has seen him. It seems highly unlikely he was at the party, unless he had an insane level of hubris. He could not have been mad enough to attend a gathering with Starfleet officers, she thinks dubiously.

"Velir," she says in a hush, too distracted to refer to him formally, "perhaps you can see if his DNA is on file. Is it possible to scan for a match? Although if it were, surely Lt. Camden would have done so..."

She frowns. It does seem odd that an expert Security officer would not be able to locate someone through such a unique identifier.

But she knows little about this area of science--and besides, she realizes she is ignoring the other hail from Novy Rostov, from Walter Harris. Almost afraid to accept it, she nevertheless does her duty, this time ending with: "...Ensign Kylah speaking. "

St. Croix follows Graham down the corridor. Russell and de la Paz are also close behind until they begin opening the doors off the corridor, one by one, finding nobody and confirming the results of the earlier lifesigns scans. Graham and St. Croix keep moving towards the bow; she has her own tricorder out and is scanning as she goes, a phaser in her other hand.

Vargas seems a little surprised but says, "Thank you, Ensign." He closes the channel so that he and Camden are speaking directly to each other without Kylah remaining in the loop.

Rangin does not have high-enough security clearance to access Starfleet's well-protected personnel DNA database. As he recalls, either the Captain, the Chief of Security (who of course on this ship also happens to be the First Officer) or the Chief Medical Officer could authorize such an inquiry.

Camden is replaced on Kylah's display screen by a stout, older, well-dressed man with a thick but neatly-trimmed beard. "Hello? Hello? This is Walter Harris. I've reached the Yorktown, then? Good. I hear there's big trouble about to break, and I want to get off this damned rock toot sweet. Can you help me, miss?"

Nathaniel takes a moment to enjoy getting Joe's attention but that is quickly averted by the call he was getting from Dr. Cobb. He wonders what this is all about.

"Dr. Cobb," he says. "This Dr. Nathaniel Bennett. I hope this is important. We're in the middle of something here."

Kylah's gaze is dragged from the image of Paul Hutchinson to Mr. Harris. His request makes her cringe, hands clammy once more. "I am sorry, sir, I am not able to help... Your governor and the council, as well as our captain and--and advisors--are currently--"

She does not know how to finish. Currently what? Currently deciding who lives or dies?

"They are currently organizing evacuation plans." Kylah does her best to keep the misery from her expression. "And we--the Yorktown--are obtaining additional resources now to prepare. I am sure you will... you will be informed very shortly. I know it is hard to wait..."

She looks helplessly up at Velir for an instant. These are just two among thousands. Is she to be inundated with completely justified fearful pleas for help? Only to tell them no, your fate is to be decided elsewhere?

Returning to Mr. Harris, Kylah can only shake her head. "I am sorry, sir," she finishes exactly as she began... and exactly as useless.

"Dr. Bennett," Dr. Cobb says, "I'm sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know that we've completed the quarantine room for Mrs. Kostoyev. You can beam her down whenever you like."

Harris says easily, "Well, maybe we can work something out. It's very important to me to leave NR. Very important. You understand? I'm sure you can help me out if you put your mind to it. You seem like a smart young officer. Is there maybe... a charity you care about that I might donate to? I'm a generous man, and anything you can do to get me offworld would be much appreciated."

"I don't have access Kylah, we would have to ask", Rangin replies quietly, although the whole matter seems strange. A mining colony in a remote part of a remote system does not get many visitors beyond any of the contract miners, who are only in it for the money. Eight thousand people is not a lot and over six months he is surprised she has not been able to eyeball every one on the planet.

He may not have access to the any DNA, but there are records of the colony, and if people want to leave they are going to have to have details on every last one. Especially if not everyone is going to be able to leave. But then, given Rangin's experience with people running for other planets away from the Orion Syndicate it is very possible this person would look completely different. The only giveaway would be that they had arrived in the last two years. He really did need access to an up-to-date set of the Colony records.

Then he can see and hear Kylah stumbling over the next conversation she is having. He gestures to her to cover the mouthpeace of her comms device and then speaks quietly, once she has done so. "Tell them that they should refer their request to the Governor who will be able to provide any answers concerning their current situation. Thanks them for their understanding and then cut the call as you have another to answer."

He nods at her to continue the conversation while he steps back to let her finish.

The voices of Mr. Harris and Velir vie for Kylah's attention. She manages to comprehend both--barely.

However, as tired, afraid, sympathetic, and sad as she is, she cannot--at first--understand the human's offer.

"Charity? No, that is kind, but my family more than adequately assists various..." Kylah's words slow down until at last her brain catches up.

She sits up straighter. Attempting to bribe her? He is afraid, she reminds herself quickly before her indignation takes over. His life is in danger, he would probably try anything possible. Most people would.

"No, sir. I truly cannot help you," Kylah murmurs. "I will play no role in organizing the evacuation process. Please speak to your local government official. Or the governor himself. Now I must answer more hails. But--" Her voice softens further but rushes out "I do wish you luck" before she cuts the connection.

Guilt flows through her as she looks at her screen, the black panel reflecting both her and Velir, standing just behind her chair. "This is so awful. Everything. What if more people seek help from us? They will, of course. Why would they not? I wish I..."

I wish I were not on duty. Hiding in my quarters. But Velir will despise her if she admits to being such a coward. So she just shakes her head. "It is too cruel to keep crushing hopes like this."

Just before she cuts him off, Harris tries to put in urgently, "Wait, please, just wait a...."

Kylah now sees four more incoming subspace calls on her board from NR.

When Graham reaches the door to the Serafina's bridge he takes a position on the left side of the doorway and gestures for St.Croix to do the same on the right. He points for Russel and de la Paz to take kneeling positions about three meters behind, just inside of their respective positions along the wall.

Weapon ready, he puts up three fingers and counts down to a closed fist before using that hand to trigger the door control.

Graham's three supporting redshirts take their positions, as directed. The door does not open, however; it is apparently locked.

On the Yorktown's Bridge, Jones tells Onn, "The Sarafina's shields are going up again, ma'am."

Graham shakes his head. Fucking idiots.

"St. Croix, take a scan and see if can override," he says gesturing toward the door with his phaser. He shrugs. "Plan B is this."

He opens his communicator with his other hand. "Graham to Yorktown, can you get me an open channel to Serafina's bridge? She's locked us out."

St. Croix scans the door lock. "Give me a sec, sir." She puts her phaser on her belt and begins working on the door panel controls.

Nathaniel realizes he’d forgotten all about Mrs. Kostoyev with everything that is happening. He certainly can’t send her down now, the entire region might not even exist soon enough. Now Nathaniel wonders what he is going to do. She needs to be in quarantine, not just for her own sake, but the sake of those on the ship. The last thing he needs right now is an epidemic. This ship is not the best place for her, for anyone. But what else could he do?

But he is also concerned about the call itself. It simply didn’t make sense. Didn’t Dr. Cobb know about the threat facing the colony? And if she didn’t she sure as hell should. No one deserved to be kept in the dark about their own life.

Nathaniel didn’t want to set off a panic though. But he needs to find out what Dr. Cobb knows or didn’t know. Nathaniel is the first to admit that subtlety is not one of is strong suits. But he supposes there’s always a first time.

“I appreciate the heads up, Dr. Cobb.” Nathaniel replies. “But are you sure now is the best time to do this?”

The Novy Rostov healer seems puzzled. "What do you mean? I'm sorry it took so long to get her room ready, but you know, we don't often have such cases. But if it's not convenient for you right now, that's OK. Just let us know when you're ready. We'll hold the room for her."

First one hail, then another, now yet another for Bennett and--what the hell, here come three more--is that four?

Patience done, Nia snaps out an arch, "Holy Seht'dar's Balls, maybe we could have a little more chaos here?!" She spins around to her so-called Communications Officer. "Ensign Kylah, do you need assistance handling your station?"

The young woman looks predictably ashamed, and starts to say something in explanation but for once discretion wins out. One hand does something to the panel and the hails are silenced.

Nia's about to thank her, a little less peevish, when Jones's words come out much clearer thanks to the reduced noise. At once she swivels back sharply to stare at the viewscreen--stupid, what is looking at it gonna help?--and naturally, that's when she hears Booker's voice.

Shit. "Kylah. Text message to him, from me: Text-only comm between us for now. Their shields are back up." She licks her dry lips, still uselessly searching the Sarafina as if hoping to see through its hull to find Booker. "We can't beam you out. Do you still want an open channel? Advise. EOM. Send it, Ensign."

Mortified, Kylah just follows orders and lets her fingers fly across the pad on her panel. When Lt. Onn finishes, Kylah hits the command and does not dare look up at the other woman. "Done, ma'am."

She can feel Lt. Onn's tension radiating outward, a little electric buzz starting to roam through her own body as a result. Afraid to break the silence, Kylah flicks a curious glance at Velir--can he feel this too, or does his new ability require direct tactile contact?--but, not wanting to be caught by Lt. Onn, she does not allow her gaze to rest on his face. As much as she wishes it to.

Instead she rubs her arms to stretch out some of her instinctively recoiling muscles, then carefully determines each hail's sender and desired recipient--if anyone is specifically named.

With a brief nod, Nia turns to Jones. "All right. I'm not inclined to warn the Sarafina again. I'll take our Security over whoever the hell they've got any day of the week. But I don't trust that captain or his choices. They may think they're in charge now that they've effectively got hostages."

Goddammit. Until we went over there, we had all the advantages. She eyes Dahlquist and Jones alternately. "Graham and the rest should have no problem if our sensors are right and there's nothing deadly waiting for them.

"Are those scans absolutely conclusive? Is there anything we couldn't scan through? Anything normally of no concern to our ship but potentially weaponizable against our people?"

She shakes her head. "Who knows what they've carried over the years? With any cargo that attracts pests, they could have poison fumigation gas ready to flood the hold or hallways. It's crazy but frankly, so is Bell. I want to know." After a thought, she goes on, directly to Jones again.

"Options? Me, I'm tempted to knock down those damn shields again. Bell might be thinking he's got the upper hand and we should be glad to negotiate, we wouldn't take a shot with our folks on board. Unless Lt. Graham tells me otherwise, I think his team can handle a shaker. If we're careful. Risk assessment? And any other ideas are welcome."

Nia briefly lifts her attention to Ensign Rangin. "That last request is open to everyone," she says to the entire Bridge crew, though her raised eyebrow hopefully makes it clear that she's particularly inviting his input.

Rangin cannot help but feel sympathy for Kylah given her position at Comms and so going to be the one person they will all go through in any attempt to save themselves.

"They will seek help from us because they think we can help. They are going to seek help from everyone they can think of, because they want to live."

He feels uncomfortable knowing that he is more than likely going to be on the warship when it leaves the system with so many others left behind. He can only how that Engineering can put is plan into some form of action, which in turn depends on Security and Graham doing their part.

"Hope is not ours to give or take away. That toe belongs to the Captain and up the Governor. All we can do is make the possibilities as broad as we can."


As the call comes in about the shields, Rangin can feel the tension rising with the Security team now trapped on the Sarafina. Still standing by Kylah's console, Rangin does his best to stay out of the way when Lt Onn is issuing commands to her.

Trying to think what the cargo ship's Captain might be doing because, when it came right down to it, he was facing off against a fully weaponised Federation starship and must be hoping against hope for something to happen. No-one is that desperate unless they are hiding something or he owes someone an awful lot of money. The kind of people who don't care if the Federation would pay later.

But then as the command for ideas is voiced while Lt. Onn looking in his general direction, Rangin gets the feeling he had better come up with some courses of actions to stop them. Instead of trying to take out the bridge, better to remove the reason for him to run in the first place. Besides, it was going to happen anyway if they commandeered the ship.

"Two options, Ma'am. Take the Engineering section and cut power on the ship, or find the hold, override the cargo bay doors and jettison his cargo. Without his cargo, he doesn't have an honest reason to run."

Graham scowls and quickly texts back.*

My call is presumng hostile intent Forcible entring bridge Stanbdy

Graham turns and says to the team behind him "Pass the word back. Serafina has raised shield. Presume hostile intent and stay ready for incoming. As soon as we're all ready we take the bridge."

He turns back to St. Croix. "Options? If we can't override we're burning our way in."

*Typos intentional!

Kylah sees that the four incoming subspace calls from NR are from Walter Harris, to whom she spoke earlier; Boris Klimov; Aleksei Myagkov, whose name rings a bell; and Ruth Soeryadjaya. The first call is addressed for the Captain; the next two are for the Yorktown's general subspace message queue, which she as the duty Communications officer on the Bridge would be expected to handle. The fourth call is addressed to Kylah herself.

The message queue now shows another incoming call, this one from Capt. Singh.

Jones says to Onn, "I half-agree with Mr. Rangin. I'd knock their shields down with another pair of torpedoes, to ensure continued transporter access, and then Mr. Graham and his boarding party can get into Engineering over there and make sure they stay down."

Bancroft adds, "Scans show nothing aboard the Sarafina that poses any particular threat to our ship or to the boarding party. There's no fumigation system, for instance; I can tell that for sure. But they may have small arms, and any ill-intentioned merchant ship captain can certainly improvise with whatever he's got aboard."

Graham's other boarding party personnel acknowledge his message.

St. Croix, working over the door controls, mutters, "Hang on... almost got it... there!" The lock indicator light on the Sarafina's Bridge door control panel turns from red to green. She closes her tricorder's display lid with a decisive snap, takes her phaser off her belt again and grins at Graham. "Ready when you are, sir."

Graham nods to acknowledge her good work--he forces a slight smile, thinking he's way too old to grin about almost anything "on the job." Odds are this is a cakewalk, but there's a non-zero chance St. Croix gets slagged as soon as we open the door....

He supposes he's glad young officers don't start their careers that jaded. St. Croix has been solid. Real potential, he makes a mental note. Also, the smile highlights the same cute freckles he noticed on their first mission...

C'mon, Booker, don't be an idiot.

"On three," Booker says, holding up three fingers with his free hand and catching her eyes, then turning back to glance at the two officers behind them.

Then he readies his phaser in the other and lowers his fingers one by one: "Three, two..."

With a nod, St. Croix follows Graham's count and then hits the OPEN button, her phaser upraised. The door whooshes to one side. A crimson phaser bolt, and then another, immediately zap through the opening. They pass Graham with just centimeters to spare. One hits a corridor stanchion with a sizzle, causing a shower of sparks, and the other wings de la Paz, who was just a meter or two behind Graham. He falls to the deck with a heavy thud, his own phaser clattering out of his hand onto the deck.

A sting of pain warns Kylah that if she gnaws her lower lip any harder she will draw blood. She stops but cannot keep from shaking her head. She cannot speak to Ms. Soeryadjaya, not on an unsecure line. What is the woman thinking? That she is scared, Kylah answers herself. Like the others on the queue. Even this Myagkov, whom she recalls among the names on the Novy Rostov Council.

About to forward Harris's call to the Captain's inbox, Kylah hesitates when she sees the Captain herself on the queue. She darts a look over to Lt. Onn, but then considers that there's the slightest chance the Captain will wish her hail to be directed elsewhere.

She takes the Captain's request, sending the others a brief recorded acknowledgement that their hails have been received--but otherwise she lets them all wait. "Captain Singh?" she asks, almost hungry to hear a confident, in-command voice.

Nia glances over at the ship, nodding as the men speak, then turns back with a tense but appreciative smile. "Of course. Dump the damn cargo. That's what we'll be doing with it either way, so why not? Where the hell were you with that recommendation earlier, Rangin? We should've just done that in the first place. The cargo--or Bell himself."

She lifts a palm at the xenobiologist, hoping he realizes she's not serious. Well... not about blaming him, anyway. Damn it, this is the sort of thing she should've thought of at once. Has she been worn down into complacency by Starfleet?

Straightening, she stands up to address the Bridge as a whole. "All right. Let's do all three. Let's get into position, Leventhal. I'd like to wait to make sure Graham's going in, then we'll aim two rocks at their shields." Booker, let me know how you're doing. You will, right?

Second on her list of must-have upgrades to the current woefully inadequate communications equipment, just below her wish for a wearable device: a videocam. Utterly ridiculous that they have no way to see what boarding or landing parties see without requiring one of the crew down there to hold up a tricorder the whole time.

Increasingly concerned that things might be escalating without Graham keeping her informed, Nia licks her lips and hurries out: "Anyone get a reading of explosives or any activity over there?"

"Weapons free, weapons free," Graham bellows--he's calm, looking for targets, but he wants it loud and from his belly, both so his team can hear it and, also, so the Serafina's crew hears it loud and clear.

Saving the charge on his phaser is the last thing on his mind--if he has a target or an opportunity to lay suppressing fire, he does so aggressively.

Capt. Singh says, via audio only, "Mr. Kylah. The Governor is about to address his people in a colony-wide broadcast speech. I want you to broadcast it shipwide, as well, with links to all officer and crew comm accounts for those who are asleep or off-watch. Preface it with this short statement of mine." She pauses, and then says, "All hands, this is the Captain. What follows is a speech by Gov. Sergey Voronko of the Novy Rostov colony. He will explain the crisis now facing his colony, and his intended policy. Both the colony and this ship face grave challenges in the hours to come. I expect all Yorktown personnel to do your duty, true to your oath and obedient to your orders, and I'm confident that you will. Carry on." She pauses again. "That should do it. Now, where do things stand with the Sarafina?"

Jones works his console's weapons controls and reports to Onn, "Two more torpedoes programmed, loaded and ready for firing at your order, ma'am."

Leventhal says, "Still station-keeping relative to the Sarafina."

Bancroft runs a full scan of the merchant ship. "I'm picking up indications of phaser fire near the bow, Lieutenant, but no explosives or anything else dangerous."

From the doorway, Graham can see little inside the dimly-lit interior of the Sarafina's Bridge. St. Croix fires her phaser, then fires again, and you hear a cry inside, followed by another heavy thud. Russell also fires from behind her, apparently without effect.

Graham keeps his eyes open for targets while addressing the room. "Starfleet Security. You will drop your weapons and yield command of this vessel. You are resisting lawful orders and will be prosecuted for every goddamned stupid thing you do including shooting at my team. And just be clear how goddamned stupid you are, you are resisting a combat-equipped and staffed Starfleet ship of the line. We can take down a Klingon fucking Warbird. If you do not surrender you are going to learn just what that that force unleashed feels like on the receiving end."

Another phaser beam comes out of the Bridge, hitting no one. The door starts to close again.

Booker's voice gets Nia to her feet. "Fire," she orders, focusing on the area the security officer is targeting. "And load up two more just in case."

Even as she speaks she engages her chair's comm panel. "Chief Harrison. Try to get a lock on the contents of their cargo holds. They're supposedly carrying tons of Telperion hardwoods. Once we get access, I want it all floating in space. Can you do that?"

Hesitating only a couple of seconds, she adds: "If that's a problem, lock on whoever's currently on the Bridge who isn't one of us and grab 'em."

She twists her head to see Jones. "Whoever's free in Security--get three officers to Harrison ready to greet a potentially hostile beam-in."

Kylah is distracted by the sudden sound of Lt. Graham's raised voice, not to mention the orders going on behind her. But she follows the Captain's orders and marks the section of the automated recording of Singh's words that will need to be appended to the Governor's.

"Yes, ma'am," she says while taking care of the task. "We are engaging the Sarafina. The captain refused to return and assist the effort, and Lt. Onn is--has commandeered their ship. But they are still resisting. Lt. Graham is currently leading a boarding party over there."

Kylah takes a quick breath. "And Captain...I have already received hails... people on the planet are contacting us, pleading for help. They must know, somehow. Is there something I should be saying...?"

Jones says, "Torpedoes locked... firing now." The torpedoes again race away and hit the Sarafina's shields at almost point-blank range. They flare brightly on impact. Jones reports, "Their shields are down again. Two more torpedoes loaded and set."

Chief Harrison says, a note of concern in his voice, "It'll take awhile to beam that much wood from their holds, ma'am - maybe ten minutes, from the looks of it. I won't be able to maintain transporter lock on our landing party while I'm doing that. I can task one of other transporter rooms to at least get started on the lumber, if you wish." He checks his instruments. "Their shields are down now, and I could definitely beam people off their Bridge, if you wish."

Jones adds quietly, "A Security team is on its way to Transporter Room 1, Mr. Onn, but I can send 'em to any of them."

Capt. Singh, sounding very tired, says to Kylah, "Thank you, Ensign. I'm afraid rumors are already circulating down here. Hard to keep something this big under wraps." She sighs. "Tell anyone asking for help to await the Governor's speech, and say that you aren't at liberty to make any further statement."

She signs off.

Rangin waits for Lt Onn to be facing in a different direction before rolling his eyes at her comment. It's obvious what she means, but still...given the comment he can't help it.

He still needs that information from Kylah, but it seems that events are conspiring to prevent her having an opportunity to help him. Not to mention the fact that there is a supposed murderer on the planet along with Federation Security Services that need assistance. He heads back to the Science station to do a little more research, aware that there is little he can do to help anyone else at this point in time.

While there, he sends a note to Kylah, which she may have better luck reading and acting on, while still handling the incoming calls. Can she get a list of people on the planet, that are visiting and would not be on any standard population record?

And then he starts to pull up any population records the colony does have to look for any adult males that arrived in the last two years. If this person did exist, his type (adult male, no dependents) would probably be last on Rangin's list of people to save from the Colony. But then everyone else wants to leave it to random chance. Ironic really.

Novy Rostov records show that 114 adult males arrived there in the past two years. Of those, 37 had dependents.

Graham keeps his phaser trained on the door while he pulls out his communicator with his other hand to specifically hail the Captain...er, my...girlfriend?

"Graham to Onn," he says quietly, neither wanting the assholes on the Serafina to hear nor to alarm Nia. "I have armed resistance and a man down. If we want this ship intact escalating our assault is not a good option." However tempting, he thinks. "Can you assist: two options. Transport in flashbangs to the Bridge. Or grab the bastards and hang 'em in stasis. Please advise." He waits a second. "And prepare Sickbay for a casualty."

He's concerned about de la Paz--cautiously optimistic, in that he wasn't incinerated and that most bad guys were aware that shooting set to kill was a good way to elicit a lethal response that Starfleet would otherwise simply never use.

Nia swipes her communicator from her belt to her ear in record time, adding a quick "One moment, Chief" to Harrison and "Send Security to Harrison" to Jones.

"Graham..." She's damn glad to hear his voice, though not this strained version of it. "Yeah. I'll help you out with the Bridge."

She turns her head back to her chair's comm unit. "Chief. Once Security's in place, yank up whoever's in the Bridge ASAP."

Finally back to Booker: "Lieutenant, once you're moving forward again, can you or someone else head to Engineering? These shields must be kept down. Also, does your injured officer need a beam-out? Who is it?"

Two more phaser blasts come out of the dim recesses of the Sarafina's Bridge; both St. Croix and Russell return fire. Graham cannot see anyone to shoot at.

Jones says quietly, "They should be there momentarily."

Transporter Chief Harrison says, "There's phaser fire over there, which complicates things, but I'll do my best, ma'am."

"Thanks," Nia says, aiming it at both Jones and Harrison. "Chief, if it's at all risky, Graham's suggested beaming in a pair of flashbangs to stop this guy shooting. Jones, can you get on that?"

Jones says, "It'll take a few minutes to get some flashbangs from the Armory to the transporter room."

Harrison then says, "The Security team just got here. I'll beam out one of the bad guys with a phaser. Stand by...."

"Acknowledged, Yorktown," Graham replies. "Engine room's top of the list. De la Paz needs evac. But I want that bridge first."

"Yes, we've had some.... delays on our end." Nathaniel says. "I'll get back to when we're ready to make a move."

Nathaniel bid the doctor goodbye and wonders what he should do now. Those poor fools at the colony didn't know what was coming. When would their people inform them they were all about to die? He wonders if Kylah knows anything. Communications was her area. But Nathaniel dreads having to deal with her. Who knows what her emotional state is, especially given what is going on around them. But he did want to know. He decides he would text her. That way he wouldn't actually have to talk to her.

As he types out the words "Ensign Kylah, are the colonists aware what is going on down there?" He sends the text.

But he needs to get off this bridge and attend to his patient. He clearly couldn't quarantine her on the colony so other arrangements had to be made. But he didn't know what they were as of yet and he can't do anything from here. He needs to talk to Nia. Besides his patient, it sounds like there might be injured from the battle on the Sarafina . And he could be of better use in Sickbay than here.

"Ma'am," he addresses her. "Request to leave the bridge."

Rangin keeps his ears open while the situation continues around him, although there's little he can do to help. But he can continue with the supposed missing murderer on the planet. He is not really surprised by how many there are, but he is surprised that an agent could not get a view on every one of them over a six month period.

Rangin checks to see if there are any images or details of the adults he can compare against and then get the computer to perform a match between them to see if anyone is a partial match based on the data. Then he wonders why that agent had not done the same...

"You want the Bridge, Graham, we'll do our best to give it to you," Nia says, then lowers her device to speak to the transporter room through her chair mic. "Great, Chief, beam him out as soon as possible, thanks."

Wait, did he say one of the bad guys? She turns swiftly to Dahlquist. "How many are on the Bridge?"

Bennett now, the male one, that is. Almost forgot about him. "Permission...? Yes, Doc, but we'll need you back once we're--oh! Just a sec'." Straightening, she holds out a stop now palm. "A wounded officer's coming in soon, and we need a med team to meet him at Transporter Room 1. No, hang on... " She lifts a hand to her forehead, patting it lightly as she thinks. "Make that Transporter Room 2, sorry. Can you take care of that, please? Either be part of it or arrange it, you get to choose. Thanks."

She tries to keep the balls juggling. Back to Harrison. "Uh, Chief, anyone in Transporter Room 2? Someone needs to evac Ens. de la Paz, and since you're about to have a hostile guest I don't want the med team getting in Security's way, or vice versa." Breathe. "Jones--ready the flashbangs just in case."

The door to the Sarafina's Bridge is now fully closed again.

Dr. Cobb sounds puzzled, but signs off.

Rangin is able to find images of all 114 adult males who have come to Novy Rostov in the past two years. Neither by image or detail do any match the fugitive, Lt. Paul Hutchinson. The Library Computer's facial and biometric recognition algorithms also cannot make a positive match. He recalls the Starfleet Security undercover agent saying Hutchinson may have had a full identity swap.

Bancroft at the Science console (Dahlquist is at Engineering) says, "There are still four individuals on the merchant ship's Bridge. Sensors indicate two of them are armed."

Harrison sounds a little distracted as he reports, "All four primary transporter rooms are now manned, Mr. Onn, per standard Yellow Alert protocols. I'll notify the others to be prepared for immediate beamouts." You hear buttons clicking. "Beaming out one of the armed Sarafina crew... now."

Jones adds, "I have someone bringing flashbangs to Transporter Room 1 on the double."

Graham, St. Croix and Russell can hear the hum and whine of the transporter effect through the door.

Bancroft's report comes as a surprise to Nia. It shouldn't--she should've remembered how many were on the Sarafina's bridge.

She takes her seat carefully. Calm the fuck down and stop making cadet-level mistakes. Flapping around like a headless chicken is not a good look for a commander.

Gathering herself, she nods in acknowledgement to Bancroft while speaking to Harrison. "Sorry, Chief, let me leave you to your current task--I'll arrange for the rest. Just when you're done, lock on the other armed person and wait for my command." Next, she contacts the second transporter room. "Onn to Transporter Room 2: We need an evac on Ensign de la Paz ASAP. A med team'll be arriving shortly."

She taps a fingernail on her armchair in thought, then decides. "Kylah, open a channel to the Sarafina. Let's see if watching someone disappear has made any kind of impact." A doubtful prospect, she understands, but it's worth letting Bell know how fucked he is if he doesn't surrender.

Kylah has nearly decided what to say to Ms. Soeryadjaya when she gets a notification from her communicator. Frowning--that is, frowning even more deeply--she looks at the device and is surprised to see a message from Dr. Bennett. I thought he was on the Bridge...? She checks and, while there is no one at Medical, the new doctor is clearly visible, waiting for Lt. Onn.

She wonders what confidential issue he would want to relay to her when they are in the middle of a crisis, and is about to read when her name catches her attention--along with an order by Lt. Onn.

Kylah swiftly says "Aye aye, ma'am," and attempts to open a channel to the Sarafina.

Finally, something to do, Nathaniel thinks.

“I’m on my way to Transporter Room 2, ma’am.” He says, as he flips open his communicator and requests that a Medical team meet him there.

Nathaniel rushes out, hoping he doesn’t have to come back. He tries to catch Joe’s eye again as he left, but he is immersed in the activity around him. Maybe later, Nathaniel thinks. No, definitely later.

He leaves and soon finds himself standing outside of his destination.

There is no response from the Sarafina to the Yorktown's hail.

"Acknowledged, Bridge," Chief Belinda Brady says from Transporter Room 2. "I have a lock. Energizing... now."

De la Paz disappears from the deck near Graham and the others.

Bancroft is busy and doesn't make eye contact with Dr. Bennett as he leaves the Bridge. The young surgeon enters the transporter room just in time to see a redshirted figure materialize on the platform.

From Transporter Room 1, Chief Harrison reports, "I got one of their crew, Mr. Onn. She had a phaser, but she's now been disarmed and taken into custody. Locking onto another crew lifesign now...."

As the figure solidifies on the transporter platform, Nathaniel opens his medikit and rushes forward to attend to his new patient and access the injuries.

What I wouldn't give to be back in a nice clean hospital where most of my patients were planned and prepared for in advance. Nathaniel thinks. This stint on this ship couldn't end soon enough.

The redshirt, whom Dr. Bennett can see is a tall Latino-looking male, is sprawled somewhat awkwardly on the transporter platform. He has no visible injuries but is passed out cold. A quick medscan shows his vital signs are strong. He appears to have been phaser-stunned.

Two medics with an antigrav gurney come hurriedly through the door. "May we help, Doctor?" asks one.

Kylah sees there are now eleven incoming subspace messages from NR in her Communications queue, including from Walter Harris, Boris Klimov, Aleksei Myagkov, Ruth Soeryadjaya and seven others. She can refer any or all of them to the ship's Communications Center belowdecks, if she wishes.

“Looks like he’s just been stunned, but I won’t know until I examine him further.” Nathaniel says to the medics as he eyes the results of the medscan. “Get him on the gurney and lets take him to Sickbay.”

Graham scowls. Keeping Sarafina's shields down is their ace in the hole. He debates sending Russell back to the rest of the team to move on engineering, but decides against it: concentrate force here. We've already had one casualty.

Graham hails Yorktown. "Graham to Yorktown. Status? We're standing ready to move on the Bridge." After a brief pause he adds, "Is de la Paz OK?"

"Aye, sir," the medic says, and she and her colleague carefully lift de la Paz onto the gurney. They head out the door and towards Sickbay on the double.

Graham and the other redshirts hear the transporter whine again behind the closed Bridge door.

From Transporter Room 1, Chief Harrison reports to Onn, "I've beamed over the second armed person, ma'am. He, uh, had to be stunned when I beamed him in and he was about to shoot at the Security team here." Onn can hear some discussion in the background, and Harrison goes on, "The flashbangs are here now. Should I beam them over to the other ship?"

Kylah receives a priority call over the Novy Rostov Colonial Government subspace frequency. A commtech says, "Yorktown, Yorktown, stand by for a message from the Governor." After a moment the screen clears to show Gov. Voronko seated at a desk in front of the Federation seal. The comm routing data shows the message is going out across the entire colony. An unseen announcer says somberly, "Ladies and gentlemen, an address by the Governor of Novy Rostov." Voronko looks like he's aged a decade since Kylah saw him at the party in his apartment just a few hours ago. "My fellow colonists...." he begins.

"Full identity swap indeed", Rangin muses to himself if the initial scan from the Ship's computer cannot find a match like that. He looks up quickly and scans round the room to see if anyone is trying to catch his attention. But no it appears they are all busy and concerned, quite rightly so, with the incident on board the Sarafina.

Rangin increases the search to include everyone regardless of species that have come to Novy Rostov since the incident, just to get an idea of the number they are looking for.

Even with an identity swap, there are still several things which can give a person away, things that are ingrained into their psyche. And if he is the kind of person who could afford to have mental blocks thrown into to prevent that kind of tell, then he is probably someone Rangin doesn't want to find.

Just on instinct, Rangin also searches for any group coming to NR that roughly matches the family. Sometimes, things are not as they seem and identity swaps are what are used to hide people. Sometimes for very good reason indeed. As someone from Starfleet security would be well aware of.

"Good work, Chief," Nia says rapidly to Harrison, "--And pass along my compliments to the Security team. Yes, if you can beam in the flashbangs near Graham, go for it."

She catches Booker's questions and switches her focus to him. "We just grabbed both armed personnel who were giving you trouble over there. None left, according to our scanners, so you can cautiously consider your way clear--just in case, we're sending the flashbangs you requested."

Nia inhales deeply before continuing. "De la Paz is being taken care of. You worry about your team there." And yourself. She sits back in her chair, still tense. "Go get 'em, Lieutenant."

Kylah forwards all the incoming hails--except for the one from Ms. Soeryadjaya--down to the Communications center, guiltily aware that she is passing along an unfortunate task to her colleagues.

But she cannot put off Ms. Soeryadjaya forever. Swallowing, she takes the call and says softly, "Forgive me, ma'am, I will be with you in a moment," then hurriedly puts the woman on hold while she focuses on Vorenko's speech.

She remembers that it will have to be prefaced by the Captain's words when she broadcasts it to the Yorktown. But Kylah feels obligated to listen to him live, even more so given how wretched the man looks.

Novy Rostov records show that 280 adults of all species arrived there in the past two years. Rangin sees that of these, there were five families with a husband, wife and son, like the Hutchinsons.

The flashbangs materialize near Graham. There are six of them in a small carrying case, identical and dark gray, each about the size of a pinecone, with simple controls built in.

Miss Soeryadjaya is unable to get a word in edgewise before Kylah puts her on hold.

In a calm, serious manner, Gov. Voronko describes the crisis facing the colony much as Science Officer Roble did when you first returned to the ship from the surface. Another 22 incoming messages from NR appear in Kylah's comm queue.

Voronko continues, "I have discussed the situation at length with Capt. Singh of the USS Yorktown, the Starfleet vessel now visiting our world. I'm working closely with her and her senior officers, and we're in agreement as to what must happen next. Much as I regret it, and despite the best efforts and best minds both here and aboard the starship, it does not appear likely that everyone in this colony can be saved from the radiation burst soon to hit us. Our goal now is obviously to save as many lives as possible. We cannot do that if there is a panic. I call for everyone to meet this crisis calmly, hopefully, with fortitude, and in obedience to the rule of law."

"As Governor of Novy Rostov, and for the public good," he says, "I have decided to take the following steps. First, under the powers granted to me by Federation law and the colonial Charter, I am declaring an emergency, effective immediately. Second, I'm placing the colony under curfew, also effective immediately. If you're already at home, stay there. All those not already at home must return at once, without delay, to their addresses of record. Those not home within half an hour of the end of my remarks will be subject to arrest and detention, and may not be eligible for evacuation. Third, all businesses, mining operations and facilities other than those related to security or emergency services, including the hospital, are hereby closed."

Nathaniel follows his med team and they head back to Sickbay.

Dr. Bennett and the medics are soon in Sickbay. They transfer de la Paz to a diagnostic bed.

A total of 37 messages are now in Kylah's comm queue from NR.

Graham acknowledges Nia's message. He grabs one flash bang and hands the rest to Russell. "Take these back to Mahmoud - join up with them, tell him to lead seizure of engineering, and not to be shy about using them. Or calling on Yorktown for transporter support. We'll keep the shields down from the bridge."

Assuming Russell acknowledges the orders, Graham turns toward the Bridge. Still keeping his phaser ready he raises his voice. "Attention the bridge. Your colleagues are in custody, awaiting charges that are currently--and I emphasize currently--far greater than what you're facing. You will open this door and stand with your hands above your heads. You have count of three."

"Aye, sir," Russell says and heads aft, at a trot, with the other five flashbangs.

When Graham reaches "Two," the Bridge door slides open. From the darkness within comes a shaky voice, "Don't shoot! I surrender!" A scrawny man in a dirty-looking uniform emerges, his hands held high.

Gov. Voronko continues, "Fourth, all Security officers are to report for duty immediately. The Security Auxiliary is also called up and will report at once for duty. Fifth, and most importantly, there will be a lottery to determine who will be evacuated. Capt. Singh of the Yorktown, drawing on this colony's personnel records, will see to the running of an entirely random computer-sorted drawing of names. The drawing of the name of any cohabiting family member, adult or child, will mean that everyone else in that cohabiting family's quarters, as already listed in colony records, will also be evacuated. The Captain and I agree that family preservation is a vitally important criterion for this lottery. We don't want to orphan any child."

The Governor says firmly, emphatically, "I want to emphasize that the lottery will otherwise be completely random. Simple fairness demands this. Neither I, my family, nor any public official, community leader, corporate executive or any other person, high or low, will have any entitlement to evacuation or any other special privilege. My family and I will take our chances in the lottery, just like everyone else."

There are now 52 messages in Kylah's queue.

Nathaniel does a more intensive examination of his patient as he attempts to figure out his condition.

Dr. Bennett discovers nothing to change his original diagnosis of a phaser stunning. De la Paz seems fine otherwise. If no action is taken, he should regain consciousness in about ten minutes.

There are now 66 messages in Kylah's queue.

"On the ground, facedown, hands flat, don't move." Graham says to the man. "If there are any surprises for us in there, now's the time to tell us, Mr.--?"

The man drops on his face at once. "No surprises, none!," he says, sounding scared. "I swear it. You stunned Pete and then the Captain and Leanne were beamed out, I guess. Pete's still in there, on the deck." He gulps. "I'm Marty."

Rangin shakes his head at the almost absurdity of what he is doing. Trying to find a needle in a haystack when they are likely to throw away most of the haystack anyway. Just pushing his ideas further could mean that the man might have come here with anyone, not just by himself. A family in hiding, a lover he had run away to hide with, a murderer on his own hiding from the law, just too many options, when in the scheme of things, it could resolve itself without any intervention.

Better to do what he can for the populace as a whole, and not try and focus on just one tiny detail and get sidetracked.

Putting the details to one side, he focuses back on the Sarafina and awaits Engineering's comments on his plan.

Kylah stares at the board, the impulse to block all incoming messages almost smothering her. She cannot, of course--how much worse will these people feel if the ship will not even acknowledge them?

She automatically checks the senders' identifications to see if she knows anyone, before forwarding everything to the Communication center. Her throat hurts from her effort to avoid crying. And her stomach churns at her awareness that these hails will surely be followed by still more, and more, and more...

"But what can I do?" she asks herself in despair, not realizing she has murmured aloud. "Just change the automated response and disconnect them?"

Guilt presses down on her. Yes, this would effectively block hails while offering a bit more information, and thus ease her own discomfort--and that of her colleagues' who are dealing with these new hails. But it would be a slap in the face to the citizens so desperately in need of help.

She shakes her head, overwhelmed by the magnitude of this calamity. But at least she knows she has a task to complete first: to handle the Governor's message as Captain Singh requested. Using her console's editing capabilities, she appends the Captain's introduction to Governor Voronko's speech.

Before she sends it as ordered, Kylah realizes she should let Lt. Onn know. She turns and sees the CO is very clearly involved in multiple conversations while in the middle of a possibly dangerous mission for the boarding party. Instead, Kylah waits for an opportune moment.

"Good choice, Marty." Graham says. "St. Croix, go find this Pete and get him transported over to the ship." Graham hails Yorktown.

"Graham to Yorktown. We're taking control of the Bridge now. We'll have one stunned Sarafina crewman and one prisoner to transport shortly. Second team is moving on Engineering."

After that he crouches and frisks Marty.

"If you want to do yourself another favor, Marty, you'll tell us anything you know about the rest of the crew--are any of them likely to be shooting at my people headed to engineering? Anything hazardous down there?"

Remaining silent for a few seconds, Nia lets herself process all the information that's buzzing within and between the two ships like an electric current.

Booker's description of the situation lifts Nia's eyebrow. She's been under the false impression that Bell was still on the ship. But unless he's hiding elsewhere, the greedy moron must be one of the two that Harrison beamed up to the Yorktown. Since only one was male, she doesn't need three guesses to narrow him down. Well, well.

To the Transporter Chief: "Harrison, has that prisoner recovered from the stun yet? Because once he's awake, tell Mr. Bell that the Yorktown welcomes him aboard and is happy to offer him a tour... of our Brig."

Shaking her head as she lifts her communicator to talk to the boarding party, Nia's expression changes. Y'know... fuck that. A simple rest in the Brig's too good for him.

"Actually, Chief... ask the Security team in charge of Mr. Bell to bring him up to the Bridge. I'm sure they've assessed that he's no further threat. Before he gets to his new accommodations, there's something I'd like Mr. Bell to see."

With a grin, she transfers her attention to Booker. "Lt. Graham, I'm running out of superlatives for you and your team. I do have a suggestion, though you may have already taken care of it. Maybe make a shipwide announcement letting everyone know that if they forgo any further violence and join you peacefully, they'll be dealt with very differently from anyone who's resisted and raised arms against our officers."

Now for the fun part. "If there's enough crew to spread around--I know you're already down an officer, but we can send more if you want--I'd like one or two of you to make sure there's no one and nothing in the cargo hold except that fancy lumber Bell was so fond of. Once the hold is clear, get ready to ditch the contents. But... wait for my signal, please."

At last Nia settles back in her seat, looking at the Sarafina in the main viewscreen. "I hate to be vindictive," she says to Jones and the others on the Bridge, smiling crookedly. "But I'm just so good at it."

Dahlquist waves Rangin over to the Engineering console, shakes his head and says quietly, "Sorry, Ensign, but it looks like your plan's a no-go. The Sarafina isn't structurally sound enough to be that overpressurized, and her internal strutural-integry field wouldn't be strong enough to take the strain, either. It would take about eight hours for us to jury-rig a stronger shipwide, or even hold-wide, SIF, and it doesn't look like that's time we've got. The Chief Engineer's team ran the numbers for different levels of pressurization and concluded that actually taking 200 evacuees aboard that ship was still, on balance, the best approach."

Kylah sees no other familiar names among the other subspace messages coming in from Novy Rostov. She refers them to the Communications Center. Ruth Soeryadjaya remains on hold, the Comm console telltale blinking an accusatory red.

Marty says, "I think they've got hand phasers, just like we did. I don't know how much of a fight they'll put up, though."

"Yes, ma'am," Jones says, returning Onn's smile.

From the Science post, Bancroft says, "I suggest we put together a prize crew, ma'am, especially Engineering and Medical personnel, to begin preparing that ship - once we're in total control - for the evacuees that will be coming aboard."

In his speech, Gov. Voronko goes on, "I know many of you are wondering how many of us the Yorktown will be able to save. The preliminary estimate is, I'm sorry to say, just over twelve hundred or so. The Captain and her crew are considering several options to optimize, or to bolster, the Yorktown's life-support capabilities, and that of the Sarafina, which I hope and expect will be returning soon. Of course, as I said, we want to save as many people as possible."

He pauses, obviously moved. "These are difficult times. This is a situation none of us would ever choose to be in, but finding ourselves in it, we simply must do our best. We must all show courage and forbearance. Consider the words of the great Tsarina Catherine IV from a century ago: 'We were all of us made for hardships, and we prove ourselves by overcoming them, leaving a name for ourselves which will light us in honor and distinction to all who come after us.' I draw inspiration from those words, and I hope you will, too. I've been proud to serve as your Governor, and I know that, come what may, the people of this colony will leave a legacy of honor and distinction for all time. Thank you for listening, and may God bless you all."

The transmission ends.

Graham decides "I could kiss you" would be an inappropriate reply to Nia, so he simply acknowledges it.

"OK Marty, cooperation noted. On your feet, hand behind your head, come with me."

Assuming Marty comes along, Graham enters the Bridge. If St. Croix has things in hand he looks to confirm shields are fully deactivated and then for a comms console to send a ship-wide announcement.

Marty clambers to his feet. He seems totally cowed.

Graham enters the Sarafina's cramped, dimly red-lit Bridge with him. The compartment is about a fourth the size of the Yorktown's. The Security officer sees three dingy seats and consoles, apparently with combined functions for command/communications, helm/navigation/sensors and engineering/ops/everything else. A single large viewscreen dominates the front of the room, flanked by a smaller screen to either side. There is the same faint but unpleasant odor as in the corridor, although the deck underfoot isn't as gritty. Bulky control components and equipment hang from the low overhead, and Graham almost hits his head twice.

A pudgy male Tellarite in a uniform like Marty's is sprawled facedown on the deck, a small hand phaser of Federation civilian design lying just beyond his reach. "That must be the guy we stunned during the firefight, sir," St. Croix says, disdainfully poking him with her boot. She picks up the phaser and thumbs its safety. "I already scanned him; looks like he'll be out for at least another half an hour."

In addition to communications, Graham finds the deflector shield controls without difficulty. The shields are now down. There is a lockout option so that they cannot be raised from Engineering.

Harrison tells Onn, "Capt. Bell has come to, ma'am. He's been searched and scanned, and is being escorted to the Bridge now."

Rangin looks at Dahlquist like he has grown an extra head and is speaking in Targ. “I’m sorry Sir, I didn’t quite catch that, did the Chief just say that the hold cannot contain a normal atmospheric pressure without leaking when the Sarafina is in good working order.”

Rangin can feel a headache coming on, not the ideal time for one, but he wonders what the engineering team is playing at. It’s a problem and they have a hammer, and won’t change to a screwdriver. “Sir, what am I missing in the explanation to them, so they can understand. The Sarafina’s Life Support will not handle 20, let alone, 200 people, so they will have to carry enough air for the 200 people in the hold. Air is only 20% oxygen, one fifth. Replace the other 80% by oxygen and you have enough to support 1000 people. It doesn’t need any pressurisation for that, it is one normal atmosphere just like here on the bridge. An extra 800 people without having to change anything. What am I missing Sir?”

"Very good news, Mr. Harrison, give him some water and send him on up. No rush," Nia chirps, while Bancroft's words receive a nod. "Absolutely, Bancroft. We'll certainly need to do more hands-on due diligence. I'd rather you be here to monitor that star, but given how closely you've been studying that thing and that damn radiation it's emitting, if you think you're better utilized making sure the living spaces are equipped correctly, that's fine with me. Besides, you'll only be a transporter ride away."

She thinks for a second. "Talk to Mr. Cheverez and pick a couple of engies and one or two medical folks. If Bennett fits the bill--damn it, I mean Doctor Bennett, sorry Cece--" Nia shakes her head. "Point is, if 'Dr. B. is free, let's give him some more to do. Might as well throw him into the deep end."

Crap... can't use 'Dr. B.' either, with Bucci around... Eh, we'll come up with something. Plus, when the hell is Bucci ever even on the Bridge?

With a single-shouldered shrug, she raises her glance toward Rangin. Xenobiology... Would he be useful? There aren't that many non-humans on the colony, as far as she knows... Oh, duh, she doesn't have to guess. "Mr. Rangin, can you tell me how many non-Terran-originated colonists there are, especially ones who have vastly different biological makeups? If the number's anything significant, we'll need to make sure--"

Her words stop. With fewer than 1500 lucky souls to be chosen to live, the total is very unlikely to include the few scattered non-humans that are living on the planet.

It's even more unlikely that whatever non-humans there are would have such unique life-sustaining needs as to be problematic. As far as Nia knows, she's the only one on the ship who needs special accommodations to survive--offhand she knows of very few in Starfleet at all.

And the truth is, she realizes grimly, if there's someone else who requires extra resources, they may well end up being forced to stay behind. Nia's very glad she has another two Bilitrium canisters to breathe. Hey, I'll be saving oxygen, not requiring it.

"Um... sorry, Mr. Rangin, I just... lost track for a second. If you could find out what, if any, accommodations might be necessary, itll be good to be prepared in case whoever's chosen is... well, requires special needs."

Glad to avoid more such gruesome discussions, at least for a little while, Nia swings around back front to the main screen. After narrowing her eyes in concentration, she addresses the two officers ahead of her. "Can't quite tell. Bennett, Leventhal--are we in a good position to see the cargo hold? Or more specifically, anything exiting the cargo hold?" She smiles a little. "And if were not there, please maneuver us to get the finest view. Pretend we're at a concert and have the best VIP seats in the house. But, uh, keep us out of the way of any flotsam from the Sarafina, obviously."

Flipping her communicator open, Nia addresses Booker again. "All right, Booker. Mr. Barr's coming up to the Bridge for a talk and a little demonstration. If you can check the cargo hold safely and be ready to open those airlocks in the next ten minutes, I'll get you a bottle of your favorite whiskey, whatever it is. And one for each of your team, whatever their favorite drink is."

She nods at Bancroft. "Also, we're gonna send an exploratory team to make sure the ship is both safe and habitable for however many refugees or crew it can hold. Once all the Sarafina's crew is accounted for, preferably soon, we need our guys inside to handle preparations and double-checking safety measures. We're S.O. L. if that little ship turns out to be unsuitable for transporting more people after all. How is it looking inside so far?"

Well, Nathaniel thinks, at least this guy is going to be allright. He figures he should get back to the bridge in case Nia needs him, even though that’s the last thing he wants to do. He also wants to check Mrs. Kostoyev. Since he couldn’t put her in Quarantine on the colony, he has to figure out something. But the prudent thing is to check and see if Nia needs him. Plus, there’s another chance to see Joe...

He turns away from his patient and presses the communicator on the bulkhead. “Bridge, this is Dr. Bennett. Just wondering if you need me up there?”

"Deal, Ni-, uh, ma'am," Graham responds to Onn, smiling slightly. "I'm on it."

He trips the shield override.

"Good work, St. Croix." he says with an affirming nod. "Take charge of these two and get them over to Yorktown. Hold down the bridge." He shakes his head. "I don't know what's up with this smell--I'll check the hold myself."

Before he heads to find the hold, he does his best with the communications console. "Attention the ship. This is Lt. Graham, Starfleet Security. Your colleagues are in custody and your bridge under our control. You will be prosecuted fully to the extent you resist. I strongly advise you surrender immediately and peacefully. There will be no further warning before we use whatever force is necessary."

Dahlquist says to Rangin, "The projections, as I thought you suggested, were for more oxygen at a greater pressure. The Sarafina isn't built for that. And if the 800 to 1,000 extra evacuees are over there, that's still an additional load on our LS system. It's not just about O2. The 1,200 the Chief Engineer projected we can take, at max, would already be well in the danger zone for our LS system."

Chief Harrison says, "Aye, ma'am."

Bancroft tells Onn, "I wasn't suggesting I personally go over there, Lieutenant, although I will if you wish. But I'll speak to Mr. Cheverez about the balance of the prize crew." He turns to the comm unit on his Science console.

Bennett and Leventhal maneuver the Yorktown to have a better view of the large outer doors of the merchant ship's cargo holds.

St. Croix arranges with Chief Harrison to beam over Marty and the unconscious Tellarite, with Security and Medical personnel to meet them there. Soon the two are gone; St. Croix remains.

There is no immediate response to Graham's shipwide announcement.

Frowning, Nia lifts a 'pausing' finger to acknowledge Bancroft's explanation. "Right, sorry. Just seemed you were volunteering, since you've been studying this radiation... let the Chief choose his team. "

But she's a bit distracted. Booker's brief reply, and failure to respond to her question, concerns her. "Lt. Graham?" She hopes there's nothing affecting his communicator--or worse. "You getting me? How is the ship looking, can you let us know? We'll be sending people over ASAP once you confirm things are secure."

The hail from Dr. Bennett createst more buzzing in her ears, and she barks out a quick: "Yes, doctor. Once we get the all-clear sign, we're gonna need someone to make sure the Sarafina's capable of sustaining life support over a long and fast journey. Get ready... and ask Dr. Villa to recommend a partner for you--time's slipping away here."

The pressure is mounting, as expected. Such activity on a Bridge, during a mission that requires keeping track of just about every department, is not entirely new to Nia. But never with such high stakes.

She takes deep breaths while waiting for Booker's reply, which had better come soon or she's beaming him away even if she has to operate the transporter herself.

Graham would kick himself if he could. Lots going on. Keep things clear and simple.

"Grhama to Onn--the Bridge, I repeat, the Bridge, is secure and ready to receive Yorktown personnel. Security team is enroute to Engineering."

“No sir," Rangin says quickly to Dahlquist. "My suggestion was to use the Sarafina as a floating oxygen tank to supplement the LS, the more pressure the ship can take the more people we can save. From a biological standpoint, it is all about O and H2O. O2 is ozone and poisonous to the ship’s crew. I know the LS cannot support that number of people over time without degradation and further remedial work taking place after brief intervals during any return trip. But there is enough air on this ship to last for a while when we are in transit even with extra people on this ship.”

Rangin feels defeated, two senior officers of the ship shutting down the idea, and he wonders if he was right to think it would be possible. “If the chief thinks the idea is not possible, then so be it. But we can still fit more than 1200 on board, mainly by taking the smaller members of the colony. I hope that can be given some consideration as well. Thank you sir, for trying anyway.”

He wonders what the state is down on the planet and heads to Kylah to find out. He had asked a question earlier and he would like to know if she had found an answer by now.

Kylah, while finishing the work of combining the Captain's and Governor's speeches, has to blink away the tears stinging her eyes. The Governor's words were painful to absorb, as are the extraordinarily cruel deaths that so many on the planet are facing.

The lone red flash from Aldaan's friend blurs the longer she stares at it. She must answer, but this problem seems unsolvable. If there were only someone she could confide in...? But too many questions will make her situation worse. And besides, who would make an effort to assist Kylah in doing something so unethical? She cannot offer anything in return--and even if she had something to offer, who on the Yorktown would possibly accept a bribe?

A thought strikes her, along with the mental image of a face. For a few frightening seconds her lungs hitch, unable to breathe. She has to force herself to inhale. No. Never.

Shoving the idea from her mind with a shudder, she drags her gaze back to the panel. With more hails coming in, desperately requiring her attention, the strain on her nerves makes her temples throb. It is too much. Even the team in the Communications Center will not be able to handle so many pleas for help.

She clears her throat and contacts her supervisor. "Lt. Thalen, sir. I have two questions, I am sorry to bother you. First, Captain Singh wished me to make a shipwide announcement, using her own recording and the speech made by the leader of Novy Rostov. May I do so? Also... sir, we are getting overwhelmed by hails from the planet. I--I am sorry, but I do not know what else--I mean, these people deserve an answer, but..." Kylah shrugs helplessly. "I did add a recorded message to assure them we are doing our best, but that is only for putting them on hold."

A sense of someone near her makes her turn around. Velir. Her eyes, still beseeching, meet his. "Please sir," she says to Lt. Thalen, but her words are also aimed at the man who was once her closest friend on the ship. "What can I do?"

What the... Nathaniel thinks as Nia’s words sink in. Surely she wasn’t thinking he should go over to that damn ship... once its safe, that is? Well, I did ask. Maybe that is my first mistake. Next he wonders who Dr. Villa is going to partner him with on this mission to hell. Except for surgical nurses who knew their place, and stayed out of his way, he isn’t used to working with anyone. And he isn’t looking forward to it now. But there is no way they’d let him do this alone. It is against a dozen regulations, he imagines. He didn’t know where Dr. Villa is now, but he figures he might as well start in her office. He leaves his office and quickly finds himself standing outside her door. He presses the call button.

Dahlquist says, before Rangin turns away, "Thank you, Ensign. That's what I explained to the Chief Engineer, and that's what he and his team came up with. They've been considering a lot of different proposals, and unfortunately not all of them are feasible. Personally, I think it was the kind of outside-the-box thinking we need at a time like this. Sorry it didn't pan out."

Thalen responds to Kylah: "The Captain spoke to me about the Governor's expected speech earlier. Proceed with the shipwide rebroadcast, as ordered." He thinks. "Then go ahead and record a new message for anyone calling us from the planet, directing them to the Governor's speech and asking them to stand by. We can't give anyone special treatment, of course. We'll just have to see how the lottery pans out. I'm putting all Communications staff on alert to handle the surge of messages. You keep covering the Bridge, I'll head down to the Comm Center and join the watchstanders already there, and everyone else can work out of their quarters. I'll tell everyone that they can toss any particularly difficult calls," he frowns wryly, "which might be most of them, my way."

Dr. Villa is indeed in her Sickbay office. "Come in," she says, looking up from a data pad. "Ah, Dr. Bennett. There you are. What can I do for you?"

"Yes, thank you, sir." Kylah disconnects the call and casts another wary gaze at her panel. After a preparatory breath, she sets up a recording and speaks Lt. Thalen's words into her mic. She tries to keep her tone sympathetic and personal, which is not difficult. Getting through to the end without crying, however, is.

She then programs the recording as an autoreply to every hail from Novy Rostov. If any ship or some other external source hails the Yorktown, they will not receive this response.

Velir's observation of her makes Kylah self-conscious, and she wonders how poorly she is handling things, from his perspective. All she can do is follow her orders... before betraying them to those of her uncle, when the time comes.

She turns to the center chair. Lt. Onn seems busy, but there is a moment when she appears to just be looking at the ship across from them. "Excuse me, Lt. Onn? Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

Not a very patient yes, but for once Kylah is confident that her task is important enough to take precedence. "Captain Singh contacted me--us--not too long ago. I have a recording of her and Governor Voronko addressing the--the situation--that she wished me to broadcast ship-wide. Her speech is for the crew;.the Governor's is the same one he has already given to his people. May I--may I play it now?"

Lt. Onn turns more directly to her. "She contacted you?" Her expression seems serene, but Kylah can tell there are multiple emotions battling for supremacy, none of which include anything complimentary toward her. "I would've liked to have been informed of that, Ensign."

She did not ask for you, Kylah wants to say, but holds her tongue. "Yes, ma'am, I am sorry. The Captain had little time. So..." She bites her lip and pats her panel close to the announcement control. "May I please--"

"Yes, of course. Keep it medium volume in here. We need to hear our boarding party clearly."

As Kylah turns to fulfill the Captain's commands, including making sure the message is sent to all off-duty officers. She has only just started when Lt. Onn adds a belated and unusually hesitant, "Thanks, Ensign."

Kylah looks back but the lieutenant has already returned her focus to the Sarafina. Swallowing, Kylah finishes programming the message for broadcast via the intercom, and then sets it to play--starting, of course, by getting attention courtesy of the familiar bosun's whistle.

The Captain's preface, and the Governor's speech, play out to the end. Kylah notices some shocked expressions among the Bridge crew; apparently not everyone had known what was going on.

Dr. Villa holds up her index finger to Dr. Bennett after the bosun's whistle sounds and the Captain begins speaking. She gestures to a seat if Bennett wishes to sit, but listens to everything silently and then leans back in her chair. "Thank you, Dr. Bennett. You were about to say...?"

"Thanks again Sir," Rangin replies automatically while his brain tries to work out what to do next. Out-of-the-box thinking that wasn't good enough. He wonders if the chief will not allow more than a set limit of people on board because it might disturb the LS. It seems running something against a ticking clock is something they are not prepared to risk. Only take those you can fit on safely.

He turns and heads across to Kylah as the Governor's speech starts and with a nod to Kylah listens to it while stood next to her console waiting for an opportunity to speak.

Then he hears the news from the Governor of the method of lottery choice and his heart sinks further. From his calculations, it is one of the more sub-optimal choices for rescuing as many people as possible. If they rescued from smallest person to biggest person they could outdo that number, but no - they had to go with that choice. It seems that maths and biology were nobody’s strong point even if it did make it more palatable for those in the colony.

Rangin begins to worry about how they might get the people off if they are chosen. Other than splitting the groups into separate areas and picking one up, but if they left everyone milling around it would be a riot to try and escape.

He turns to Kylah with a slightly sick look on his face. "Hello, did you manage to find out if there is anyone visiting the colony who is not part of the general population?"

A weight lifts from Nia's chest when she hears Booker's voice. "Copy that, Lieutenant," she says, more to herself than to him, which is why she reverts to pilot lingo. "If you can get someone over to the cargo hold, my audience'll be here any moment. But obviously, safety first."

So the Bridge is secure. That's good--no, more than that, it's excellent. But Nia's not keen on sending anyone else over while there's still the rest of the ship to clean up.

Then Kylah interrupts her with news of the Captain. Nia's distracted and somewhat annoyed that Singh's bypassing her. Is it rational? No. Nia doesn't claim to be a constant source of rationality. After giving the ensign a bit of a chastising--nothing too bad, but seriously, the girl should know Nia needs to hear about this stuff ASAP--

Sighing, Nia turns around and waits in some dread for the messages to play. Singh's preamble deserves some respect, and she keeps silent for a while to listen to both her captain and the colony's governor. After the latter has spoken for some minutes, and talk of the goddamn lottery burns Nia's blood once again, she has to shut it all out. Time isn't expanding.

At least she can get the Sarafina prep team geared up and ready to go. Bennett's getting someone, so there's two from Medical. Bancroft's talking to Cheverez for Engies. Science...

No, she hasn't picked anyone from Science. She twists around to Dahlquist and Rangin, but the latter's edging toward Kylah. Nia lets another sigh escape her.

At this point she decides to go to a higher source for advice. With Singh and Vargas gone, the third-ranking officer is her best bet. She leans to her left, where her armrest panel is certainly getting a workout today.

"Bridge to Cmdr. Roble," she says. "Sir, it's Onn. Do you have a moment?"

Kylah senses Velir's thoughts--or rather, his intent--about two seconds before he speaks, and panic rises within her. He seems to have guessed what, or whom, she is thinking about.

She tries not to shrink away or show her mortification. But if he can sense me, what does it matter? Facial expressions are often deceptive. Emotions are much easier to read, at least for Kylah, and she has no idea what Velir is capable of. Yet.

She is so tempted to look at the flashing red light that she swivels further toward Velir, not just avoiding it herself but also hopefully hiding it from his view. "Forgive me, I do not remember your having asked me to make this inquiry. There has been so much activity, all these people... And then Captain Singh... well, you heard the announcement."

Her lips feel dry and she licks them out of nervousness. "I know there are some visitors. One or two from the party..."

Even as Kylah speaks she cannot remember if this is true. But it makes sense and she sticks with it. Velir did not speak to nearly as many attendees as she did.

"Of course I can find out, if you wish. I am worried about the traffic from the planet; there is so much outbound activity, it might overload the subspace transmitters.* Why do you ask? Not that you need to explain," she adds hurriedly. "I just...wondered..."

A shrug finishes her not-very-articulate response. The imaginary pulse of heat radiating from the inbound call for her matches her rapid heart rate. Oh, I should not have asked him anything, I must not keep her waiting. Kylah just looks up at him, sad and stressed and frightened.


* Erm, is this a thing that could happen? I don't know, it seems to make sense but if not, pretend she didn't say it.

After a few moments, Roble responds, "Certainly, Lieutenant. How may I help you? Would you like me to come to the Bridge?"

It is theoretically possible, although unlikely, that the very heavy outgoing subspace comm traffic could overload the colony's transmitter. More likely that later callers would get the equivalent of a busy signal.

Rangin shrugs slightly at the news, not surprised that not only did have Kylah have time to answer his question, but also that there are visitors to the planet.

"I've set up some randomisers based on the colonists to see what the distribution of people saved is like, and I wanted to make sure I had everyone in it. That includes people not registered in the Colony."

He sighs aware of what he is doing, "At some point, they are going to want to choose, so better to have to ready to do so, than to create at the last moment. Saves someone else the knowledge of what they are doing." He shakes his head, remembering the speech from the Governor and lowers his voice, "between you and me, it's not a good choice for saving as many as possible, but that's not my decision."

"I'm sorry for asking, but if you have your hands full, I can go and try and pull the data out for myself?"

Nia shakes her head firmly, not that Roble can see her. "No need to trouble you with that, sir, unless you want to take a look at things." His prerogative, but she certainly doesn't want to be replaced right now, as utterly shitty as her job is right now.

"To update you, right now, our boarding party's in the process of securing the Sarafina. Once they're done, we'll send a team to head over there to assess how capable and safe this vessel is.

"That's where I could use your advice, Commander. I've got two from Medical and two from Engineering, but since I'm waiting for updates from the boarding party, I'd be grateful for your assistance in deciding which officers should complete the initial team."

Nia changes her gaze from the viewscreen to Leventhal's back, simply because she's nearly memorized the Sarafina by now and needs a break.

The sight of the Helm and Nav duo in front of her helps complete her thoughts. "Obviously it'll need a mini Bridge crew, but I'm thinking more of preparing a dinky merchant vessel to house and propel at least two hundred people of possibly varying races to safety as fast and far as it can.

"We're picking engineers and med staff, but still need science, possibly our assistant quartermaster for supplies, one of the mess officers...?" Oh help, she thinks, suddenly feeling the magnitude of what they need to prepare, both here and on the Sarafina.

And the shuttles, if Singh agrees to Nia's suggestion. Wait. There were some vessels down on the planet, right? Small ones with no warp power, she remembers, never intended to leave the planet really, but... Could we tow 'em? Any livable space would be awesome, even if we can just get a dozen more out of there... I mean, fuck, that's twelve fewer dead people we'll be abandoning. Those lives mean everything.

She puts her fleeting thoughts on ice until she speaks to Cheverez. All she says to Roble is, "Your recommendations for staffing this prep crew, sir?"

Nia breathes and listens--for the senior officer's reply, any new report from Booker, the final depressing words of the Governor, and her own pulse pounding in her ear.

The NR Colonial Government keeps a complete record of who is on the planet, including permanent residents, temporary residents and visitors.

The Science Officer thinks for a few moments and says, "I agree, a few people from Engineering and Medical would be useful. And a helm officer and navigator for the Bridge... perhaps some Security officers to keep order. I don't know if you'll need any Science personnel aboard, but I'd be glad to assign some, if you think it best. Did you wish specific names from me for any of these billets, Mr. Onn?"

Stiff shoulders relaxing just slightly, Kylah lets herself indulge in the fiction that she can help Velir, that he might be able to help her... that he wants to help her.

"It is no trouble, Velir. The information is easy to find, it will all be in their records for you to--" She stops when the danger in the situation sweeps back into reality. If Velir himself is devising a way to help choose the evacuee lottery list, he will know exactly who should be on it... and who should not. If Ms. Soeryadjaya is not chosen, and Kylah somehow, somehow manages to get her off the planet nevertheless, Velir will know. He is not the sort to forget Ruth Soeryadjaya's name. Nor will he let the inconsistency go.

She is trapped. Damned if she fails, damned if she succeeds. Aldaan gets what he wants--his contact's life saved--with Kylah the sacrificial pawn. Perhaps Uncle Aldaan planned it this way. Perhaps he is ready to finalize a pact with the Klingons, and so he no longer cares that the discovery of her role in this rescue is almost inevitable. He does not care if she is forced out of Starfleet and the Federation. Then he will have her back to do his bidding.

And worst of all… Velir will probably be the one to catch her out.

"I am sorry, I lost my train of thought," she says to Velir, lassitude nearly overtaking her. "Like you, I do not... I do not fully understand the decision. But that does not matter. The choice has been made, and I have to... we have to follow orders. The consequences are out of our hands. They always have been."

Kylah slowly moves her chair to the second Communication station, still avoiding that ominous red flash. "I will contact the council on the planet and ask for the list." The words are listless. Only her desire for Velir to see her engaged in her task keeps her voice from being a complete monotone. "They might let us access the data directly. If so I will send it to your station. Is that all right?"

"Most definitely, sir," Nia says, shifting in her chair. "To clarify, it's not so much who'll crew the Sarafina once the real journey begins..."

Obviously. Does Roble really think she doesn't know who's necessary to fly a ship? Her? Of course he doesn't know her as well as Singh and Cheverez. Or even Vargas.

She lets it go. "...It's more the preparations and assessments needed to make sure the Sarafina is even capable of what we need her to do. We've scanned her enough to know what she can do theoretically, but we need boots on the ground. Our requirements are way above and beyond from her original purpose.

"I figure science officers would be useful in determining whether the ship's LS systems are up to the task of maintaining different races' needs. And working with the engineers to beef 'em up, if necessary. Plus there's figuring out what supplies the ship'll need for food and water, makeshift beds... that should all be decided by the time we return to orbit. So, quartermaster, mess crew..."

Nia runs a hand across her face, just to wake herself up. "Sorry if I'm overexplaining what I'm sure you don't need me to explain in the first place. Normally I'd do this myself. I'm a great juggler but under these circumstances I'm being handed at least two or three more balls than I can handle." She can't help herself and smiles wryly. "And trust me, I can usually--"

Thanks to every deity guarding Sidonia, Nia catches herself mid-raunchy joke. Holy shit, get yourself together! A hint of smut with Cheverez? Thalen? Ajay? The entire Security and most of the Engineering team? Definitely. But not Roble, not on the Bridge, and definitely not in these circumstances.

"--I can usually multitask with the best of 'em. But there's a lot going on now, and like any smart C.O., I'm exercising power by delegating it." At least this small moment of levity is allowable. "...With your permission, of course. So, yes, sir, I'd be very grateful--if you have time--to handpick whatever officers are best suited for all of the above. Besides, I'm sure you're in a better position to know who's prepping our own ship for what lies ahead."

"Graham to Mahmoud. Status report when you can," he says into his communicator.

He knows Nia's keen for him to get to the cargo hold, but he needs the team to mop up engineering and either the team to collect the crewmember who appeared to be in quarters--or he should do it enroute.

"Certainly, Mr. Onn," says Roble equably. "Leave it to me... although I may further delegate the matter myself. That's one of the prerogatives of being a department chief, as you'll learn yourself in due time, I have no doubt."

Over the communicator Mahmoud says with a chuckle, "I think your announcement did the trick, Book. They've opened the door and surrendered, gentle as lambs. They're disarmed and we're searching and scanning them now. Engineering is ours."

"Surely it was my charming personality," Graham replies. "But good work. Will you wrap up the last crewmember in quarters? I'm on my way to the hold, it's a priority for Ni- er, Yorktown."

"Oh, right, the guy... or gal... belowdecks. Will do," Mahmoud replies.

Nathaniel realizes how much he doesn't want to do this. Going on another foolhardly away mission was one thing, but having to ask permission on who he could take with him was like adding insult to injury. He was used to and fully capable of picking his own team. But he isn't in charge... yet. So he couldn't make those decisions. Yet.

"Yes... Nia.... Lieutenant Onn wants me to head a team to access the medical situation at the Sarafina, once we have it under our control that is." Nathaniel says. "She wanted me to get your input as to who to take with me."

"Thank you Kylah, that would be very useful. A second check of the data for the Colony is always welcome and I want to make sure everyone has a chance no matter how small."

He shakes his head at the thought of what he is doing. "I can understand the reasons for the choice. It's because it is the easy, simple choice to make, even if it saves less people than other choices might make. But you're right, the choice and responsibility is out of our hands no matter how much we want to save everyone." He realises he is chattering on like some miner's wife with little more to do and no doubt stalling Kylah from far more important work than his request.

"Sorry, I must be keeping you from more important matters. I'll wait at Science 1."

Dr. Villa says, "The plan is to have 200 evacuees on the Sarafina, I believe, so I would take, say, two medics along. Just take the first two on the duty roster, unless you have someone in mind."

Mahmoud reports via communicator to Graham, "There's a very large Tellarite female down here in what appears to be her personal quarters. She's passed out and, uh... unpresentable in public. I'm no doctor, but I know a drunk Tellarite when I see one."

It has been 33 minutes since the Yorktown broke orbit.

Graham can't help but chuckle as he replies to Mahmoud. "Glad it's you rather than me. Get her over to Yorktown, and have the others do a basic safety scan and inspection of the ship - we're going to have colonists filling it up, make sure there's nothing dangerous lying around. Meet me in the cargo bay."

“No, Velir, this will just take a moment, and it is important--” Kylah reaches out to stop Velir, then quickly yanks her hand back. After yesterday in the gym, when his touch seemed to open that strange psi communication link between them, she cannot risk accidentally revealing anything to him.

But his comments have opened a Pandora’s box, if she understands the Terran mythology reference correctly, and she has to peek inside. She continues in a near whisper. “So… there really is no way of influencing the lottery? I mean… what if someone were desperate enough?”

* * *

Rangin is slightly caught off balance by the question, wondering what Kylah is talking about. Everyone on the USS Yorktown was surely going to follow orders and do what was expected. But the little part of Coridan in the back of his head immediately starts giving ways it could happen.

“If someone is desperate enough, almost anything can be considered. But influence the lottery, I can imagine there are a lot of people on Novy Rostov who would love to do so, or if not influence, work to ensure they are chosen ahead of another.”

* * *

Aware that she is staring too intently at him, Kylah tries to keep her own desperation hidden. “Of course, but… that would not be possible, would it? In the end they must reach the ship--or ships,” she adds with a quick glance at the viewscreen before returning to Velir. “So if an officer here discovers someone on the planet who is… whose safety is of great concern, someone he knows...”

Her gaze falls to her hands in her lap, and her voice lowers as well. “It would be extraordinarily unlikely,” she stammers, “but what if it were so? Could it be done?” Kylah would try to look back up at Velir, but her cheeks feel aflame, and she fears he will know this is no hypothetical question.

In the end the risk of his suspecting her, if she cannot even meet his gaze, is greater than that if she speaks to him directly. Kylah lifts her chin and leans forward, fighting to keep her tone dispassionate. “And would it truly be wrong? Under such circumstances, how could one do otherwise? Why should a purely random choice be preferable to choosing someone specific?”

* * *

Rangin is slightly confused by the question, trying to understand what point Kylah is trying to make. The question is uncomfortable to think about:would it matter if someone with no knowledge choses at random or picks those they know? Blind luck either way, if you met that person or not. What is she trying to say? That someone on the ship is hoping to change the lottery for their own purposes, to rescue someone from the...

Graham, who else? And the woman he left with would be the one who he will try to save. Of course ‘Boojee’ would break the rules if they were inconvenient.

“Yes. Yes, there are lots of ways any result could tampered with. Think of every step something has to be done and at any one of those steps someone can alter it.”

Then again, what if he proposed the lottery and changed it to rescue more than just they say they should. Alter the parameters to get the most instead of a fixed number. Just what does 'fair' mean in this situation?

Typical then, that Graham would try and pull something to get his own way, instead of considering the bigger picture like Rangin himself is. Disgusting that he's pulling in Kylah to do it for him, especially as she obviously feels obligated to him. You can guarantee he's staying one step removed to have plausible deniability. Rangin wonders just what it will cost her.

“At the meeting earlier, I said choosing people by reason rather than random is the better option, just as long as we save as many as we can. Taking responsibility for that action instead of abdicating it to blind chance.”

* * *

Kylah’s lips part as she stares at Velir. He might forgive me. He might even help me!

No, she must not think like that. She cannot implicate Velir in this scheme. But at least, if he finds out… even if she is drummed off the ship, his judgment of her will not be all bad.

Although saying he feels one way now--that is quite different from reality. Velir is so hard to fathom at times. He disapproves of some Starfleet policies and Federation hypocrisies, but he also seems determined to follow orders. Because he pledged an oath, Kylah understands. Regardless of his feelings, he values his honor and would be true to his word. She herself will cheat, break a promise, lie... if she is frightened enough.

"So... choosing for a reason is acceptable," she says breathlessly, eyes widening in hopeful disbelief. "Even if the reason were simply… personal?”

* * *

Rangin shakes his head at Kylah's suggestion; perhaps she missed the point of what he is aiming at. She wasn't in the conference room meeting at that point. "Personal reasons normally don't pick wisely. There is a more practical rationale to determine a choice but, as it can still be considered subjective, very few want to have to justify it. Although I have a feeling any Vulcan would disagree."

He switches to mimicking Dr T'Var's drawl, "A random lottery is not a logical way of choosing who to survive. It will not maximise the amount of people we can save." Having finished, Rangin looks nervously around the bridge to see if anyone else heard it, worrying that his little impression could reach her ears and how she may take it. Vulcan humour being what it is.

* * *

As he continues, Kylah maintains an interested expression despite her mood's sudden collapse into disappointment. Did she really expect to get... what, forgiveness... absolution... understanding, all before the fact?

No, she wants permission. But it will not be forthcoming. And in the end, it will not matter.

Dimly she hears him attempt a small joke, and Kylah remembers to offer a distracted smile before she responds. "You are right, of course; anything to save the most people." Finally looking away, she shifts her chair closer to her secondary panel and starts tapping away. "I should write the Colony for the information you need." She rushes to send out a request for the NR Colonial Government for visitors and temporary residents to the planet.


Kylah by choie, Rangin by, uh, Rangin

"Understood, sir," Mahmoud says, all business now. "See you at the entryway to Cargo Bay 1 in five."

A harried-looking NR commtech uploads the information to Kylah, snapping, "How many more times are you going to be asking for this list, anyway, Yorktown?"

Taken aback, Kylah shakes her head. "I--I am so sorry, I did not know it had already been requested. We are trying to help. Do you know who--no, forgive me. Thank you."

Rather than ask who else has asked for this information, Kylah hastens to cut the connection. In truth she did not intend to make visual contact at all. Her fingers must have tapped the command out of habit.

Flushing, she forwards the information to Velir's station and says, just loudly enough for him to hear: "Apparently the list has been sent to the Yorktown before. Multiple times. Someone else must be working on the same idea. I do not know who."

She shrugs helplessly and rolls her chair back to the main Comms station, and--if nothing else crops up--finally, finally, addresses the insistent request from Ruth Soeryadjaya.

Ever since she saw the call, part of her subconscious has been trying to determine the most confidential way to speak to this woman. The best she can do, short of taking the hail somewhere other than the Bridge, is to repeat her breach of protocol from her contact with Aldaan.

Breaking a rule for the second time, Kylah forwards the connection from the main panel to her own communicator, which is not subject to automatic recording.

Then, as a last protective measure--this one simply preventing her Bridge crewmates from any casual notice--Kylah couples her earpiece to her communicator, so that she will appear to be having a regular conversation via the Comms panel.

One hand holding her open communicator on her lap, the other adjusting the volume on her earpiece, she addresses the older woman at last. "Forgive the long wait, madam. This is Ensign Kylah." Her voice trembles even as it lowers to a murmur. "You may speak freely but I am at my station, and others are near."

She tries not to look nervous but it is difficult; the Bridge has never seemed small before, but now she is very aware of everyone's proximity.

While waiting for a final all-clear from Booker and the assessment boarding party personnel to get ready, Nia tries to choreograph the various transporter movements that'll need to happen as people from the Sarafina move to the Yorktown and vice versa.

"Chief Harrison," she says into her chair comm, "I'd like you to be in charge of sending our folks out. I'll have Transporter 2 beam the other ship's crew here. Can you ask whatever security officers are with you--if any?--to head down that way? Thanks."

She pauses, and flips a switch. Her mind has a second of doubt before she recalls who's manning the second transporter room. "Trans 2, Chief, uh, Brady, right? Bridge here again. Thanks for your help with de la Paz. The Sarafina crew and any extra personnel on board'll be coming over our way. I'd like you to handle all the inbound traffic. Probably won't be much. And while I'm not expecting trouble--the rest of the crew seems docile enough--Security's on its way, so wait for them. Better not take chances."

While waiting for confirmation she glances at her chronometer, notes the time--unnecessarily since she literally just checked--and waits. Not her favorite task, but as long as she's in this chair, she's pretty much just the conductor here. All she can do is wave her hands around guiding people when to come in and how fast to go. They're the ones who get to make music.

Ruth Soeryadjaya's voice is like cut glass. "Thank you for taking my call finally, Ensign. I believe your father has been in touch with you. People down here are freaking out since the Governor's speech. When do I get off this rock?"

Harrison and Brady both acknowledge their orders from Onn.

"Thank you", Rangin replies as he heads back to the console to start feeding the data through. He starts feeding the new data into his randomiser programs to see how they react now. While there he also looks through the list of those on the planet who could survive in a different atmosphere and don't require a standard earth atmosphere as so many planets seems to do.

Perhaps some more people can be saved without impacting the limits they have set. Lt. Onn had asked about them earlier, but without the list he would not be able to answer her.

He wonders who else has requested the list. Probably Engineering in order to work out the limits they are looking for, or maybe they are setting up the lottery. Rangin is sure he will find out in due course. All he can do is make sure that if they do need it, then at least his versions will be ready and as accurate as he can make them.

Kylah nearly spits out her instinctive reaction--Aldaan is not my father!--but fortunately she checks herself. It does not matter what this woman thinks.

"I know, ma'am," she manages as calmly as possible. "Things are hectic and we have received nearly a hundred similar requests. And we are not currently in orbit, though we will return as soon as possible."

Still quieter, nearly just a hiss: "Please believe me, I will do all I can. It is my sworn duty. But the practicality of it will be... extremely complicated. And confidential."

Kylah bites at her already sore lower lip again, trying to think of any information that will help her. That awful idea she had earlier springs to mind, and if she somehow dares to follow through, she knows her potential co-conspirator will require more details.

"You--you are the only person in your party, I hope? Are you somewhere private, somewhere that can be isolated?"

What, specifically, is Rangin looking for with his randomiser programs?

There are only two people on the non-permanent-resident list who do not breathe an Earth-standard atmosphere. Everyone else on Novy Rostov does.

Soeryadjaya doesn't sound mollified in the least. "Yes, I'm the only person in my party. I mean, I have an assistant, but you don't need to include him in your plans. I'm in my room at the hotel, the Apraksin. For the moment, I'm alone here."

“All that matters is that they are competent and do what I ask.” Nathaniel replies.

Dr. Villa smiles. "The first, I can guarantee you; the second will, I suppose, depend on what you ask."

Now that the transporter chiefs are ready, Nia has to make sure the assessment team knows where to go. She turns to Kylah to make the request, but sees the officer has returned to her panel--and given the stiff, tight bearing, she's probably dealing with another deluge of terrified miners.

Deciding she'll give the comms. officer a break, Nia swivels back to her arm mic, bless its overworked little mechanical heart. Flipping the switch is second-nature now. "Bridge to Cmdr. Roble, Lt. Cheverez, Dr. Villa and Lt. Jones," she begins, glancing over to the cute young man beside her with a wink.

"When you--or whoever you delegate--" That wry addition is for Roble's amusement--"have selected the officers who'll be heading to the Sarafina to check its current readiness for transporting evacuees, you'll want to direct them to Transporter Room 1. Trans-2 is for inbounds only. Thanks. Bridge out."

Well, that's her job done for a bit, at least assuming everything goes well with Graham and the boarding party. As she sits back, a little spasm of hunger curls Nia's stomach. When was breakfast? Feels like ages ago. Hm. Speaking of food...

Nia decides to let her communicator pull double-duty, and while still waiting for Booker to report, she leaves speaker on while swapping to keypad.

JOHNSON, ANDREW - Hey. Not sure if you've been seconded yet, but I'm looking for someone to help determine how equipped the Sarafina is for keeping 200+ people fed/hydrated, and what supplies they'll need for same.

You've always been good at anticipating needs, and few know how to make the most of subpar equipment as you. (j/k, you come equipped w/the best.) If you're game, & you usually are, contact Roble.

BTW this is just prepping, but if being in charge stimulates you, I'll rec you to stay & run food/bev dispersement for the voyage outta Novy Rostov. It'll be Singh's choice but can't imagine why she wouldn't take my suggestion. Keeping ppl satisfied's your specialty. You up for it? -- NIA

Nia hides the smile from her lips but not the twinkle in her eyes. Even in a dark and dangerous situation, Nia firmly believes it's good to find some levity, some way to compartmentalize and keep things bearable.

Without this quality she'd've taken a knife to her gut in Sidonia at age 13, after fulfilling her contracted mating with a man three times her age.

She sends the semi-ridiculous message to Ajay and exhales, looking back at the omnipresent sight of the ship ahead. Please, she prays to no one she can think of, don't let there be any more bad surprises for Booker. Or anyone else who doesn't deserve it.

It is getting more and more of a strain for Kylah to bear in mind that this officious woman is in dread terror for her life. She swallows. The idea of being willing to leave an assistant behind is abhorrent. But nearly seven thousand others are also to be abandoned. Why does this somehow seem worse?

The utter callousness of the remark, Kylah decides. Her head sinking lower, she shakes it again. "Stay where you are unless the government tells you otherwise, for now," she murmurs. "Do not distinguish yourself in any way, or utter a word to your--to anyone. You are as beholden to the lottery as everyone else. For now," she repeats, closing her eyes briefly. "We will contact only by text. If you must move elsewhere to fit in, do so, but let me know."

Even as she speaks she cannot believe what she is saying. Somehow, though she has barely had time to make such plans, her words are measured and almost frighteningly rational. Most Elasians--other than her uncle--can not call up such reserves of calculation in mere moments. Elasians act impulsively, and not always to their advantage unless their physical prowess is greater than their opponent's.

No. This is her human side.

"Please try to stay calm," she continues. "And help others if you can. You might need goodwill if you are to make any unusual moves." Kylah glances around, notices that Lt. Onn is on her communicator, and worries that she might be needed soon. "I must go. I am sorry I cannot give you more details yet. This is an unpredictable situation."

Her trembling hand prepares to close her communicator as she whispers: "My Uncle wishes you safe, madam. But even he cannot control the stars. Still, I will do my best. Remember. Text only."

"I'm a reasonable guy... most of the time." Nathaniel says, but even he knows that isn't quite true. "I better get to it. I'd hate for them to leave without me."

As he bears a sardonic smile, Nathaniel walks out and goes back to his office to see who available to go with him on the Sarafina

Mahmoud meets Graham at the entryway to Cargo Bay 1. It's as ill-lit, smelly and grimy as the rest of the merchantman, if not more so. He asks, "Did you want all remaining Sarafina crew beamed back to the Yorktown, Book? We could confine them to quarters here. In fact, we might want to - there'll maybe be questions about the ship that it would be good to have them around to answer."

Lt. Cmdr. Roble, Lt. Cmdr. (he tactfully reminds Onn) Cheverez, Dr. Villa and Lt. Jones all acknowledge their orders. (Jones looks a little taken aback at her wink, but then grins at her). Roble also says, "I have a tentative prize-crew list for you, Mr. Onn, after speaking to the other department heads or their deputies. Make what changes you wish, of course. I suggest Lt. Kendin at Helm and as commanding officer, with Lt. JG Guzman at Nav, Ens. Kjaerstad and Spec/1 Fox from Security, and Lt. Vielar to lead the Engineering team which would include Lts. Mille and Granai, and Spec/2 Travers. I understand that Dr. Bennett is selecting a small Medical detail as we speak."

Soeryadjaya texts back, Understood. I do not intend to leave my hotel room if I can possibly avoid it. Please advise next steps ASAP. Time is obviously of the essence.

Dr. Bennett sees from the duty roster that just about everyone except Dr. Villa, the CMO, and Dr. Noel, who is with the Captain on Novy Rostov, is available to serve in his Medical detail, if needed.

Nia grimaces when she hears Cheverez's correction, tactful as it was. Ugh, where is my brain? She decides to forego the mic this time.

CHEVEREZ, LT CMDR - My apologies, Chief. Lieutenants to the right of me, lieutenants to the left of me... Got them on the brain. Won't happen again, sir. Many thanks for recommendations and guidance. -- ONN, PLEBE

After sending, Nia listens to Cmdr. Roble's report. She nods in satisfaction when she hears Kendin's name, and thanks Roble for his help.

Only after they speak does it strike Nia that she would've relished the challenge of piloting a hunk of scrap like that to safety. And given her reduced need for oxygen, she'd be a resource-frugal choice, too. Well... it's only for testing the ship's capabilities, and for the trip back. Maybe when it comes to the actual escape, Singh will rethink--

She smiles ruefully and cuts off that line of thinking. Better not hope on that. Kendin'll do fine and it's probably his turn. Anyway, Nia's shuttle idea might be approved, and nothing needs a person who uses 1/4 less oxygen like a cramped shuttle.

We'll see. Could be worse. At least it's not friggin' Cooper. A snort nearly escapes her and she pretends it's a cough.

She loses her smile gradually as some of her nerves return. Her thoughts turn to the new doctor. Hopefully Dr. Bennett got a good partner from Villa. He doesn't know the crew yet, and after only a day or so they barely know him. This'll be a chance for him and someone else to get that breaking-in period fast-tracked.

Taking a breath, Nia is very aware she's mentally rambling. She really wants to find out if the Sarafina is up to their needs, or can be pushed up to them in a hurry. We need to get moving.

Well, if she's gonna ramble, she might as well ramble something someone might be interested in. Her voice is casual but confidential as she leans in toward Jones. "So... Kjaerstad, huh? Didn't Graham have some trouble with him on OCIII? He lost his rank over it... some negligent lapse involving..."

Realization dawns, and Nia manages to avoid looking in Kylah's direction. "Right, well, anyway... So you think he's learned his lesson? Or at least this'll give him a chance to earn his place back in Vargas's good graces? Let him earn a braid again?"

"It's possible, ma'am," Jones says carefully. "But I wouldn't know for sure."

"Of course, Lieutenant; we'll have to wait and see," Nia says to the security officer, still pleasant but less cozy. Apparently Jones isn't the chatty sort. For all she knows, he and Kjaerstad could be best friends or lovers or something, and she should've been more tactful. In a more judicious tone, she continues, "This assignment will be a challenge and I'm sure he'll do his best."

Which is b.s.; she's not sure of anything where that guy is concerned. The stunt Kjaerstad pulled--she remembers now--involved purposely ignoring Kylah's request for backup when the young Communications officer was chasing a potential murderer.

According to Double-T, who unlike Jones here is always ripe for a juicy story, Kjaerstad even told a fellow officer to stand down, leaving Kylah to face an armed and dangerous suspect on her own. Rawlings speculated that some of the other Security officers resented having to take orders from her, even though Booker--their mission leader--had put her temporarily in charge.

All in all it was a crazy, malicious act that, if Nia were Captain, should've gotten Kjaerstad reassigned from the ship, probably even facing a court martial. Demotion was too good for him.

She shakes her head slightly. Kjaerstad's lucky he didn't pull that stunt any later, once Booker got so, uh, emotionally invested in Kylah's welfare. Book would've probably punched a hole in his stomach.

Speaking of empty stomachs... Nia's growls again. She glances back and notices that Kylah seems to be free from the barrage of hails she's been dealing with. "Ensign Kylah, can you please ask someone down in mess to bring up some sandwiches, protein bars, water, coffee... just a tray to tide us over? Looks like we're gonna be working through watches and some of us might need a little fortification." She addresses the crew at large. "If you have any specific dietary needs let her know."

Nathaniel realizes he doens't know any of these people available. He hasn't been here long enough. He couldn't even take the time to pick the two best looking guys. It wouldn't be the first time he's made a decision that way he thinks wryly. So, I guess, he thinks, he'll just pick the top two names and hope it all works out.

The top two names on the day's Medical duty roster are Ens. Carlos Alvarez, a medtech, and Spec/1 Michelle Brown, a nurse. Dr. Bennett sees that both have excellent records.

Rangin checks the data for the two people who can breathe a non-standard atmosphere and see if they can be included somewhere without affecting the main L/S. He hopes they can be and gets ready to pen a note to Lt. Onn as she had asked a while ago and he has yet to respond. Engineering should also be informed as well, if they didn't already know

Rangin is looking for a set of parameters and choices that can consistently save more people than a straight random choice would, or one that picks random families. Especially, as several of his choices prioritise smaller people who require less oxygen/food than larger people and would be less of a drain on the L/S.

Graham nods. "Good point, Faisal. Have the team sort out who does what job - keep anyone who's likely to know something useful - engineering, helm, et cetera - here."

Graham turns to the door and scowls. "What is up with this smell?," he says, shaking his head. He draws his phaser. "Better safe than sorry," he adds, shrugging, before he reaches for the door control.

Preoccupied with her private dilemma, Kylah gives a start when she hears her name, her fumbling hand nearly dropping the communicator still hidden beneath her panel.

Fortunately she catches it before it hits the ground. To Lt. Onn, who is asking her to have a light meal sent up, she murmurs an "Aye-aye, ma'am" and is about to get in touch with the galley when Onn encourages the rest of the Bridge crew to make any special requirements known. So Kylah pauses and sends her gaze around.

Then a little jolt hits her when her mind belatedly processes the Lieutenant's reference to their having to work past their watch. Of course an emergency of this magnitude warrants this, but...

No, no, I must get out of here! Kylah's fingers curl around her communicator until the metal digs painfully into her flesh. She has to leave the Bridge. And soon.

How else can she find out if the seeds of her plan can bear fruit? She cannot hail her potential partner, she cannot message him. This particular conversation must not be transmitted over a communicator by text or voice.

Kylah has no doubt that if there is a message trail, or a secret recording of her illicit request, they will be used against her.

This must be face-to-face, in private. The thought makes her nauseous, but she cannot let her personal feelings overrule her safety.

In secret misery contemplating the multiple dangers and risks she must undertake to fulfill her uncle's command, Kylah forces her face into an emotionless mask while pretending to care about her colleagues' lunch preferences.

Nia feels a little buzz from her communicator. She flips it open and, while it's not Booker as hoped, the message still makes her eyes shine with amusement.

Hey Nia. Currently running inventory on supplies, working out what we can do to serve 1200 instead of 400. Reminds me of you and how you like to get lips round everything. Chef will be glad to have me off ship for a while, although if you're going to be in command, that would put me under you, following your orders at your pleasure. You know I like to get hands on and rise to the occasion, and with you in charge, I'm sure my actions will keep you satisfied. I'll ask Roble and Chef. If it's a yes, I'll slip you something later as a way of saying thanks. - AJAY

One hand placed over her mouth to cover the grin at Johnson's words, Nia notices that he's cc'ed her on his message to his superiors.

ROBLE, LT CMDR; ONN, LT: Concerning the Sarafina: I would like to volunteer to lead the provisioning on the Sarafina for the return journey from Novy Rostov and being by being part of any advanced support crew confirming the capability of the vessel to hold and prepare provisions. This would ensure that the crew and those rescued have enough food and water to last until we can reach our destination. -- JOHNSON, ANDREW

She closes the device with a little affectionate pat. Nia hopes Roble and the chef agree, and that Andy'll find the work rewarding and a change from the usual day-to-day chores. Andy doesn't get nearly enough off-ship action, other than on shore leave. Where he usually sees more action than the rest of us.

Frustrated at lacking any new knowledge about what's going on, Nia turns to the Science team. "How many non-boarding-party lifesigns are left on the Sarafina?


Ajay/Johnson by Rangin.

The two people now on Novy Rostov who breathe a non-Class M atmosphere are a humanoid Credonian, who breathes mostly chlorine, and a crablike Vrii, who comfortably takes in far more gaseous sulfur than a human ever could. Both have personal breathing apparatuses, according to NR records. The records include height and weight for most colonists, but not all, and Rangin knows that some people might have understated their weight out of vanity (some of the data is self-reported). The Library Computer seems unable to suggest a set of parameters and choices that would consistently save more people than a straight random choice would. Rangin also knows that the inherent fairness of a random lottery is seen as a virtue by the Captain and Governor.

Mahmoud makes a note on his tricorder and follows Graham through the door. The cargo hold is about three meters tall, and its deck space is a square about twelve meters on a side. It is almost fully packed with dark, glossy brown wood on battered metal cargo pallets.

Nobody on the Bridge seems to have any dietary restrictions. "Just some sandwiches and coffee would be good," Dahlquist suggests to Kylah.

Bancroft says, "Three of the Sarafina's crew have been beamed over here, ma'am, and five remain over there."

Speak of the devil... the turbolift doors part and Capt. Nicholson Bell enters the Bridge, escorted by two redshirted Security officers, Crewman Alexandra Harper and an Asian man whom the Sidonian BCDO doesn't recognize. Bell says nothing, crosses his arms and stares at Onn.

Graham shakes his head. "Bunch'a wood. Got to be hot or endangered or something...Faisal, can you scan what this is?"

He texts Onn. "Cargo hold's full of some kind of wood. We're scanning it. But the hold is secure."

Kylah contacts the galley to convey Lt. Onn's request. She has just passed along the order when the Security officers arrive, escorting the man she recognizes as the stupidly obstinate master of the Sarafina.

In such a fraught situation, Kylah does not dare interrupt.

Nia's muscles tighten when she sees this poor excuse of a human, and she is about to address him when yet again her communicator buzzes. A glance down confirms her hopes--and it's the best timing possible.

"Bell," she says, swiveling and standing up to face him. She's certainly not gonna address him as 'captain' anymore. "Welcome. I hope you're completely recovered from being stunned." Nia steps forward, close enough to lower her voice to a mutter: "You'd better hope the officer you shot is as fortunate."

With a contemptuous shake of her head, Nia lifts her communicator while her gaze remains on Bell. "Excellent work, Lt. Graham, to you and the whole team. What you're looking at in that cargo hold," she says specifically for Bell's benefit, "...is some fancy lumber... Telpron, Terrapin, something like that, according to Bell. He's about a half meter in front of me, by the way. Got a bit frisky in the transporter room and had to be...subdued."

The smile she sends Bell is reflective of her predatory reptilian ancestry, although her tone aimed at Booker is firm but pleasant. "But go ahead and finish your scan, Lieutenant. For all we know this cargo's being used as a cover for something more illicit."

Mahmoud scans the cargo and says, "It's Telperion hardwood, just like the ship's manifest shows. Pretty expensive stuff."

The Galley acknowledges Kylah's request. The food should be up in just a few minutes.

Bell says nothing and just stands there, obviously seething.

Rangin looks at the console in both concern and horror: the computer can't do better than a random choice.

While the Captain and Governor may consider this travesty of a choice ”fair”, Rangin considers it a total abdication of the responsibility of command they are supposed to uphold. Just pick the people from the colony at random and their hands stay clean. But, and this is what worries him the most, is not what they wanted.

The Governor in his speech stated that families would not be split up, and in a peculiar way it should allow for more people to be saved. If a family of two adults and six children are chosen, then they would use less L/S than eight adults. Possibly enough for another adult and child. Surely the Chief of Engineering is not taking an average of L/S based on the colony adults and children. If you did then when the randomiser picks only adults, you suddenly can't take everyone you promised and a riot really would kick off. You have to build up to the amount, like stacking cubes of differing sizes in a box until its full.

Rangin looks in disgust at the console in front of him, and starts a new algorithm, a simple one. Giving each person on Novy Rostov a rough average L/S requirement for their age, and grouping by family, what is the most people they can save? Rangin knows it will be above the limit given by Cheverez because the program will skew towards large families with many children ahead of adults. But in doing so, all those little extra boxes are more lives saved at the expense of the larger boxes. It doesn't help to think of it in this way because each one is still a life. But this gives the upper limit, that Rangin craves to show just what can be done.

It may be the job of the Captain to lead, but it is the job of the Science to inform. If he didn't tell the Captain how many lives she could save if she made a choice, he wouldn't be doing his job. If she chooses to continue with the lottery because she feels it is the right thing to do, then that is her choice as Captain to make that decision, and those people not saved would be on her conscience, not his.

"Unbelievable," Nia mutters at Mahmoud's confirmation heard over the tinny communication speaker. She folds her arms over her chest and continues, once again talking to Bell.

"Was all this worth it? Wasting our precious time, refusing to help save lives, neglecting Federation law, disobeying a direct command, interfering with Starfleet officers in the course of their duty, assault, and attempted assault while resisting arrest? Just for some fancy kindling that you'd've been compensated for anyway?"

Lifting the communicator again, Nia flicks her gaze to the Sarafina. "Graham. Other than the wood, you see anything worth keeping for our purposes? Food, bedding, water, tools, anything like that? If so, bring it safely out of there."

She returns her cool smile to Bell. "Once your team's done checking, follow the necessary procedures to open the hatch and dump that useless pile of wood into space."

Despite the unpleasant emotions radiating from Bell and Lt. Onn, mostly hostility so electric it crackles the air, Kylah is suddenly conscious that everyone is preoccupied. They are either intent on their own work--like frowning, frustrated Velir--or watching the confrontation.

She takes the opportunity to focus on her panel and, gnawing at her lower lip, hurriedly types in a command to scan the ship for the location of one particular communicator.

The Library Computer whirs and hums, and eventually projects that 42 additional lives could be saved with Rangin's revised approach.

Bell sneers, "Go to hell. It's my ship, not yours, and I have a responsibility to the owners. You can say what you want, and I'm sure you will."

Graham and Mahmoud see nothing in the cargo hold other than the wood and the pallets. Mahmoud's tricorder scan confirms that.

After a few moments Kylah finds the communicator she was looking for. It is in the personal quarters of its owner.

Nia lifts a warning finger. It's not the one she wants to aim at Bell, but she's not vulgar.

"You forfeited your 'responsibility' when you disregarded the law and forced me to commandeer your vessel. Now that you're in our custody, let me remind you that you have the right--and my very strong recommendation--to remain silent."

She turns toward the Sarafina again and speaks into her communicator. "Thank you for confirming, Mr. Mahmoud. Lt. Graham, do your thing."

"Acknowledged," Graham replies, wishing he could compliment Nia on her command demeanor. Later. "Nothing useful here. Flushing the hold shortly."

A cold shudder runs through Kylah as she stares at the computer-generated result of her search. She closes her eyes and drops her head for a few seconds. The truth is, in some childish, fantasy-driven part of her brain, she hoped the scan would not find its target.

She hugs herself and tries to stop trembling as she looks back up at the screen. After noting the cabin number, she inhales and clears the search. Now all she must do is get off the Bridge.

Turning back to where Mr. Bell, his two Security escorts, and Lt. Onn are in a tight cluster near the Captain's chair, Kylah acknowledges at once that this is no time to request a break.

There is no immediate rush--except that Kylah has no idea how this rescue can be accomplished, even with assistance. It may take time to devise a plan. And no procrastination will rid her of what is sure to be a debasing, humiliating and quite possibly dangerous request for help.

She holds her breath and prays that Lt. Onn will be available soon.

Forty-two. That's it? Rangin thinks to himself. Surely it should be larger amount than that? What am I missing?

Rangin scans back over the data trying to work out what assumptions he had made, what vital information he had missed, confused because it just doesn't make any sense. With that population you would expect nearly a thousand children of all ages...that, that was it, that was the assumption.

Rangin cringes inwardly as his heart sinks and he screws his eyes up with the realisation of his mistakes. As mining colony on a hostile planet, they can't have the same birth rate as a normal planet because they need the Life Support to be stable. A rapidly exploding population would never work, it would have to be just enough to keep people happy while allowing the colony to survive.

He checks the list of people the computer had identified to confirm his reasoning, but he knows the answer already. Every child under sixteen is on it along with their families. His program was not wrong but Rangin had made assumptions, the first failure of any good scientist in understanding what he is dealing with. And those over sixteen where he had set the boundary to use the same life support as an adult, it is as random as he expects.

He slumps back in his chair feeling tired and drained, his emotions conflicting at the results. In the end his original idea of saving the children and one adult would have been almost the same and here is the proof to show it.

But it's forty-two more people. He can save a fifth of those who would be on the Sarafina, just by choosing carefully. And given the makeup of the population, everyone still has a chance to escape. It's just that for some of them the chance will be 100% and for the rest it will be reduced, but still possible. He doesn't know whether to cheer or to cry.

It's something Rangin can live with. He just wonders and hopes that the Captain can live with it too.

Nathaniel taps the communicator on the bulkhead and requests that Ensign Alvarez and Nurse Brown report to his office immediately.

Graham sees that the cargo bay's exterior loading hatches can be opened with the controls right there in the Sarafina access corridor in which he and Mahmoud now stand.

Ens. Alvarez and Nurse Brown both acknowledge Dr. Bennett's summons, and are soon standing before him in his small Sickbay office.

"We're headed over to the Sarafina to access where they are medically." Nathaniel got right down to buisness. "Let's just hope we can get this done without getting in a phaser fight."

He turns from what he hopes will be a blissfully brief partnership and taps the communicator.

"Bridge." He says.

Kylah sees the incoming message and, with a last brief check on Lt. Onn, adjusts her earpiece slightly and takes the hail.

"Yes, Dr. Bennett," she says, "this is Ensign Kylah." She realizes he likely wishes to speak with the BCDO. Her voice lowers further. "Lt. Onn is currently dealing with the Captain of the Sarafina, who is in custody. May I take a message, or perhaps I might help you?"

Nathaniel sighs. This one, he thinks. He had hoped he’d never have to deal with her again given how flaky she acted before. He needs to make this as brief as possible.

“My team is ready to be transferred to the Sarafina.” Nathaniel says. “Think you can manage to give her the message?”

Graham's demeanor turns sober. "Kobayashi Maru, Faisal...Kobayashi Maru." He shakes his head. "Good work by you and the team here, but we still can't rescue half the colonists, including..."

He needs to stop to clear his throat. "Maybe someone I haven't seen in long while." He taps the wall with a fist. "Fates give us a big honking de-cloaking Klingon vessel would hold everyone if we just took her by force. Down the hatch."

He punches the release control to dump the hold's contents into space.

With so much on her mind, Kylah misses the condescension in Dr. Bennett's tone--well, some part of her subconscious catches it, since he is not very subtle. But she too distracted to care.

"Why yes, of course I can, sir. Oh... in case you have not yet been told, Transporter Room #1 has been designated for those beaming out to the Sarafina, rather than the room where you attended to Ensign de la Paz." Kylah hesitates. "Is he all right, sir? I am sure Lt. Onn will want to know..."

At Mahmoud's suggestion and given the soon-expected arrival of hundreds of evacuees from Novy Rostov, Graham of course purges the cargo bay of its atmosphere before dumping the cargo into space. The other five cargo bays are likewise full of Telperion hardwood on pallets.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Two_Trees_of_Valinor

Nia catches the action from the Sarafina and grins at the sight of the cargo bay discharging its prize. She imagines the other bays will look just as satisfying.

"A graceful maneuver. Like ballet," she says, not bothering to look at Bell. To her communicator: "Bravo, Lt. Graham, and to your whole party. Once the other five bays are empty, there'll be a lot more room for our 200 evacuees. Has everyone on the ship been accounted for? I'm assuming some will be staying, if they're cooperative and can help our crew... rather than being a hindrance," Nia says with a sidelong glance at Bell. "I'd like to send the assessment teams over once you give the word."

"Roger that," Graham replies to Nia. "Ship and crew secured. We're offering anyone willing and able to help the chance to remain onboard and help out."

Nia really wants to say Your rogering is appreciated, as always, but obviously... not appropriate. "Better and better. Let me tell Chief Harrison."

She leans over to her chair mic. "Chief? The Sarafina is ready for boarding. Please start sending people over as you can. It makes sense to beam them to the Bridge; they can coordinate with Lt. Graham."

Communicator again. "Lieutenant, let Chief Brady know when you or team's ready to return before we start back to the planet. In the meantime, unless you have any other immediate task, can you head to the Bridge to meet and brief the crew? I'd like you to remain mission leader on this. Unless you recommend another strategy."

Nia is very aware of the irate erstwhile captain to her left. But she lets him stew, maybe keep his eyes on the lumber pallet as it floats away, destroyed by the vacuum of space and out of his reach forever.

Chief Harrison says, "Everyone is here, I think, except for the Medical team. I'll start beaming them over."

The transporter chief's words travel well over the speakers of the captain's chair. Kylah interrupts her own question. "Oh--I should not keep you, Doctor. The rest of the boarding party is about to be transported."

She turns to Lt. Onn and speaks more forcefully to catch the senior officer's attention. "Pardon me, Ma'am? Dr. Bennett has chosen a team and they are on their way."

Before finishing with Dr. Bennett, she adds a sincere, "Good luck, sir. I hope the Sarafina serves your needs well."

About to contact Dr. Bennett, Nia is glad to hear Kylah's report. "Thanks, Ensign," she says, and returns to concentrate on the Sarafina and her communicator.

"Sorry, Lt. Graham, I just remembered that the other five cargo bays need to be emptied. So if you'd rather do that yourself, go ahead--or feel free to delegate and head to the Bridge. By all means, do as you please, Lieutenant," she adds, her voice professional enough. Although someone who knows her very well would recognize a tiny lilt of amusement mixed with... something else.

Graham blushes slightly and hope Mahmoud doesn't notice it. "OK, Faisal, let's depressurize and dump the rest of these bays."

He proceeds to get to it.

Nathaniel shakes his head as he hears Kylah's final words. Some people just didn't get. He turns to his med team.

"Well, we better get to the transporter room." Nathaniel says mockingly. "Hate to miss out on all the fun."

Nathaniel leaves his office and he and his team soon arrive at the Transporter Room.

Mahmoud nods, and he and Graham work their way down the access corridor on the lowest level of the Sarafina. Each of the other five cargo bays appears virtually identical to the first. In just a few minutes all are purged of atmosphere and their hardwood contents dumped into space.

On the Yorktown's Bridge, Capt. Bell listens in, looks very angry but saying nothing else until he blurts out, "Can I go now?"

Ens. Alvarez and Nurse Brown go with Dr. Bennett and are soon standing on the transporter platform, ready to beam over.

Kylah's console now shows an incoming call from Capt. Singh for Lt. Onn.

Nia watches the jettisoned cargo in satisfaction, then--hearing Bell's grousing--says, almost to herself, "Now that they've dumped their garbage, it's time to get rid of the trash on our own Bridge."

She steps an inch or two closer to Bell. "I hope you enjoyed all that. You know, you could've spent this journey on your own ship cooperating with Starfleet, saving lives, getting fairly compensated for your 'sacrifice'--" Nia tosses her head toward the viewscreen. "Possibly even getting a citation and certainly gratitude from the colonists you helped rescue. And the publicity would've boosted your reputation and ability to charge higher fees. A mercenary type like you should've thought of that.

"Instead," she says darkly, "You'll be spending this time in our Brig with the others who, like you, had the goddamned temerity to fire on my officers doing their duty. Aggressive behavior that was utterly unwarranted. When all this is over and your trial is through, I doubt you'll be hauling overpriced wood anywhere anytime soon."

Her gaze shifts to the woman standing by Bell's shoulder. "Mr. Harper, take him to the Brig. Please accept my thanks for subduing a hostile threat. You and--" Nia pauses and regards the other security officer with a quick smile. "Sorry, I don't know your name--?"

She's interrupted yet again by Kylah, announcing that she is forwarding Captain Singh to her immediately. Quick learner, kid, Nia thinks as she waves Bell away like a troublesome gnat. Once more seated in the big chair, she attempts to quell a little rise in anxiety while lifting up her communicator.

"Onn here, Captain."

Kylah, having sent the hail directly to Lt. Onn's communicator, is still perplexed by Dr. Bennett's cutting her off without a word in response. Likely he is on edge, like all of the crew--even Lt. Onn, though the woman is doing a masterful job of hiding it.

But Kylah knows her skills in this area are frayed and fragile. With Lt. Onn speaking to the Captain, it seems even less likely that Kylah will have an opportunity to leave. Perhaps she should ask Lt. Thalen first. If he agrees, and a relief officer shows up... why would Kylah be missed?

THALEN, LT. - Sir, I have a request that I hope you do not mind my asking. The Bridge crew is about to take lunch here, courtesy of the galley. As I am not hungry, may I be excused for a brief period; perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes?

We have only just started transporting officers to examine the Sarafina and will likely wait for their assessment. If it would not overload the pressure on you and the department, sir, I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to take a walk, with your permission. And of course if Lt. Onn permits it as well. -- KYLAH, ENS.

That last sentence seems like a necessary addition. Kylah sucks in her lips, turning her mouth into a thin line as she sends the message.

She aims her gaze around the Bridge and, naturally, lands on Velir. It is not only her personal inclination, however: he is radiating distress, frustration and helplessness. And when she tilts her head to peer at his profile, his expression is just as downcast.

Giving a last look at her communicator, she clears her throat and gently asks, "Velir, are you all right?" Oh, what a vapid question! Of course, none of them are truly 'all right' in such a situation. "I mean... have your calculations not produced a satisfactory result?"

Rangin looks up at the sound of his name, caught as he wonders what next to do with his results. Wrap them up and send to the Captain, get someone to check over them. It's the out of the box thinking they have been looking for even if the returns are so dreadfully small.

He despairs at getting anything further out of it and any other course of action has already been shut down by Engineering. No, this is the best he can do he surmises, although it gives him no pleasure to know this.

He looks across to Kylah, slumping back slightly in his seat. "They are only satisfactory in that I think I can save a few more people. Disappointing in that I do not believe I cannot save more," he says quietly back across to her, not really wanting to announce such a poor return to the rest of the bridge.

He nods once to her, "Thank you for the colony list, it proved very useful in challenging my assumptions." The least he can do is acknowledge her help.

"Excuse me, I need to add some notes to this before I forget them." He turns back to the desk and hastily starts adding notes to his findings before he even considers packaging it up.

Bell makes no reply to Onn but just glares venomously.

"Ens. Yuanhong Li, ma'am," the Asian redshirt says to her, nodding respectfully, just before he and Harper take Bell off to the Brig.

Kylah soon has a reply: Just to take a walk? All right, go ahead, with Mr. Onn's permission. I'll send someone up to cover for you. THALEN.

Singh comes on the line. "Status report, Mr. Onn, if you please, and how soon can we expect you back in orbit?"

Nia looks straight ahead, at a spot on the Sarafina that she can see between Leventhal and Cece. "Yes, ma'am. The Sarafina is safely secured, as of about five minutes ago. There was some resistance but the hostiles are now in our Brig. One casualty on our side recovering from a stun."

All right, that takes care of the past. "A second team's beaming over now to assess the Sarafina's capabilities and weaknesses. We can do most of this on the way back and in orbit--except for the damage to their shields. Which I regret but we had no choice. And we can't travel at full speed in a vessel with a vulnerable hull."

Nia closes her eyes briefly. "Sorry, Captain, you hardly need an Intro to Space Travel class." After an annoyed inhale, she goes on: "If we weren't in a hurry I'd just extend the Yorktown's shields, but towing a ship slows us down. That'd just waste more time."

Still too much explanation. Get the fuck on with it. "Assessing the damage should take ten minutes, fifteen at most. Fixing it... I'll have to wait for the boarding party's report to give you a hard estimate on how long it'll take to get the shields close to 100%.

"I suppose we could take the Yorktown back now, and let the Sarafina catch up later. I'm worried about leaving necessary crew and resources behind, if anything goes wrong."

Shit. Are we even out of the danger zone? Even as she continues to talk in a level voice with Singh, Nia's desperately trying to remember what she heard in the conference room, and calculate how far they've traveled.

"We'll need a half-hour to an hour at the most. If repairs to that ship take longer, we may have to risk leaving her behind, and rendezvous later." Nia swallows. "Hopefully that won't be necessary. Our engineers will be working at top speed. After that announcement... well, everyone who heard it knows the stakes. Time's our enemy, and we have to beat it."

She wishes she had a panel in front of her. She'd be contacting Cheverez now and asking him if they're safe or not. Her mind continues to race as she finishes. "Excuse my jabber, Captain. What are your orders? Or suggestions, recommendations... anything?" Nia adds with a rare lack of confidence.

"Thank you for the report, Mr. Onn," Capt. Singh says. "Well done. It sounds like you have things well in hand. Expedite repairs and return as soon as possible. Anything else?"

His voice... he is so sorrowful...

Kylah leans forward and reaches out to Velir, but stops short of his left hand, which rests on the panel near his station. Instead she lets her fingers touch the black panel, very close to his own. So close she can feel his warmth.

"It is a tragedy, and... and I think we will never forget what this terrible star is making us do. Worse, the lives it will soon destroy. But... Velir, every time you increase those numbers you calculate, you have saved another person. Forty-two souls will live thanks to you."

Her right hand is small and pale next to his. She longs for him to choose to brush his fingers against her skin, even though it is unlikely now that he has turned away, and even though it is far too dangerous for them to touch, given his new abilities.

Because she cannot help herself from thinking, and saying in a harder voice: "If I could save a single life, I would. By any means necessary."

Biting her lip in consternation, she withdraws from him. He is so busy he might not even have heard her, or paid attention at all. Hopefully this is the case.

Retreating further, Kylah pushes her chair back to its usual position. As she does, the buzz of the device in her hand tells her that Thalen has answered her request.

She opens the communicator and, reading his generous words, feels her cheeks tingle in a flush of shame at abusing his kindness. Nevertheless, she types a quick thank you to him.

Now she hears Lt. Onn finishing up her report to the Captain. Kylah hopes there is some news from the planet. An impossible wish fills her lungs with air as she inhales sharply. Maybe it is all a mistake, maybe the scientists miscalculated.

Knowing such thoughts are childish, she digs her nails into her palms and waits.

Nathaniel, his team beside him, climbs onto the transporter pad, hoping this doesn't take long. But like everything else on this mission, you never know what to expect. You just had to be ready for it.

Ens. Alvarez and Nurse Brown beam over to the Sarafina with Dr. Bennett. It does not take you long to find the merchantman's small, one-bed Sickbay. The dirtiness and smell of the ship are, unfortunately, even more immediately apparent. Several of the other Yorktown prize-crew members are moving about in the corridors, looking the ship over and preparing for the expected wave of evacuees.

A solemn young redshirted man, who appears to be of Indian descent, enters the heavy cruiser's Bridge and introduces himself to Kylah as Ens. Vijay Patel. He says, "Mr. Thalen sent me up to relieve you at Communications, ma'am. He said to tell you to take as much time off as you need."

Nia's shoulders relax. She didn't even notice how tense she was until now. "Thank you, Captain. We're still working on it--every scientist and engineer is trying to find a way, any way, to get more people in. The Sarafina will help, but..."

She holds the communicator a little farther away as she lets out a sad sigh as noiselessly as possible. Finally she has to ask. "What's the status on the planet now, ma'am? Are things..."

Nia can't think of a word to express the chaotic panic, helplessness and confusion these poor people must be experiencing; emotions that could very well evolve into anger--and worse.

"That is... do you need me--or Lt. Graham, once he's back onboard--to prepare a landing party of Security to help?"

Singh says, "You read my mind, Mr. Onn. There have been some random crimes, mostly vandalism and opportunistic robberies, it seems, but most of the people here have gone to their quarters and are waiting for the lottery, as ordered by the Governor. We haven't personally been in any danger here at City Hall. The colony's Security forces seem on top of things for now, but I think it would be for the best if Mr. Graham and a Yorktown Security landing party were prepared to beam down on short notice, if needed. Those who don't get selected in the lottery may respond badly."

Rangin adds some comments to his findings over the population, and his suggestions for the change to the randomisation of the lottery and the outcomes of what happens if either choice is made. One is a totally random choice, the other saves 42 more people and still gives a chance of survival to everyone.

He wonders what to do with it next, who to get to check it before giving it to the Captain. Roble...Dahlquist...maybe someone else might be a little more receptive. The current captain.

She did say that if I came up with any crazy ideas that could save more people I was to interrupt her and let her know. If she is going to make that kind of offer in the Turbolift, then he may as well take her up on it. How she will respond to his findings, well that is why he is running them past her.

He waits until things are a little calmer before approaching Lt Onn, datapad in hand for her.