Star Trek RPG - Mission #7: "The War-Brotherhood of Irkhuit"

Rawlings is agreeable to stopping. Rangin seems about to disagree, but sees Kylah's face, then smiles, nods and complies. He and the hulking Security officer pause awkwardly a short distance away. Kylah notices, after a few seconds, Rangin gesture toward an available nearby table, and he and Rawlings go and sit down there. A waiter swoops in upon them almost at once, and they talk briefly.

Kylah gets a slight psi impression from the two Saurians, but not nearly as strong as she would from Humans at that distance. Her sense of them is... different, and hard to describe. She can't figure out their specific emotional state, only that they are feeling some kind of emotions, if not all that strongly. She does not sense anything hostile from them, however.

"Invisible ink is a good idea," replies Bizhi. "Could also be coded DNA or polypeptide chains rather than ink per se. If our subject was sending or receiving clandestine messages, it might not occur to anyone to look out for anything so archaic. However, it would all show up on a routine scan, which seems a dangerous risk to take.

"An intensive tricorder scan will identify anything like fruit juice, or if someone spilled Romulan ale on them, or handled them with dirty fingers. Also any common poisons, in case the substance had something to do with his death. A deeper analysis will require access to a lab, but even if we talk our way into one, laboratory work goes beyond what we can justify to the local authorities as emergency response or due diligence. We need to be careful, especially if we plan to be off-planet in four hours."

Kylah listens as carefully as she can. "I suppose we cannot risk harming evidence." Disappointment is obvious in her well-considered words, and when she catches it herself she glances up at the doctor with a small apologetic smile.

"I would like to be able to fix something. I cannot do a thing for Velir. I certainly cannot do a thing for--for our pilot." With a quick check of the Saurians and the stranger not far from her, Kylah does not think they noticed her hesitation when she nearly used Lt. Onn's rank.

She sighs and clasps her hands together in what her upbringing taught her is one of the few appropriate positions when one wishes to be informal. "Since some sort of code might be involved with your case... if I may call it that," she adds with another tiny smile. "Well, that is my area of expertise. Encoding, Decrypting... that sort of thing."

She sits up a little straighter and changes the subject. "You are getting quite the immersive experience for your first mission with us." 'Us.' Did I really say that? When did I start thinking of the ship as an 'Us'? Or myself as an 'us' with anyone but Uncle Aldaan?

"Actually I too had a similar welcome. We were stranded on a research station far from the ship, with genetically altered animals and a gruesome virus that turned the staff into these... cannibalistic creatures. Three of us were wounded, Velir included. I too, but my injury was very minor." She absently runs her fingers along her wrist, which has never fully recovered. "The third... Lt. Fujishiro Iota... she caught the virus. And died of it."

After swallowing, Kylah lifts a hand. "I wonder what you might have thought of that mission. It was highly medically... interesting, and the ethics of such experimentations might have engaged--oh, forgive me. I am rambling away... I do so when I am anxious. What do you think of all this? Everything that has happened here? Have you been involved in similar situations, Doctor?"

Prompted by Nia's comment, Graham looks around and sees Rangin.

"Ah holy hell..." he grunts, grimacing. "My bad for not having Rawlings sit on his ass immediately once we got here," he growls.

"We may not tamper with the evidence, but we absolutely cannot drop these items in someone's lap without a thorough examination, As I said, they may be dangerous," Bizhi says dryly. "There was also a communicator of a fashion I have not seen before; perhaps you will be able to recognize it?"

Hearing about Kylah's colleague dying from a zombie cannibal bite is sobering. "I did not sign up hoping to stay on the ship and tend to toothaches," he begins to answer. "Whatever exactly I was hoping for, we saw some action. One time we were in support of extracting crew from a crashed cargo transport--- some classified materials on board as well--- the site was under fire, and there were wounded... I would like to say that, horrific as it was, we were in control of the situation, but, as with a virus, or the situation in which we now find ourselves, there is always a risk of an unwelcome surprise."

Satchell finishes with her comm and waves Onn and Graham back over. She looks genuinely regretful. "Capt. Green said no thanks at any price. He wants nothing to do with Starfleet right now, even if it's not official business. Sorry. Thought we could make this happen."

The waiter leaves Rangin and Rawlings's table.

The Klingon singer has stopped screeching, her musical set apparently concluded for now, and the bar gets a little quieter.

Dr. Mäkeläinen notices the sudden change in the acoustic background and looks over at the Klingon singer with curiosity.

The news from Satchell is wrenching, but not an utter surprise, in light of what he just said to Kylah. That was supposed to be at least one lifeline fast. He weighs whether it be worth the trouble of asking Satchell about other merchant vessels. Cannot hurt. "Don't suppose you know of anyone else heading that way? We will not have heard any names from you, if anybody asks." Following their conversation he will down the rest of his drink, if any remains, and wish her and her friends, "Swift travels, and may your engines burn hot."

Surrounded by her colleagues, Kylah feels a little safer. At least now they outnumber the Zephyr's crew. It likely does not matter, as no one here seems hostile, but she is relieved nevertheless.

The Zephyr. At last she remembers from whom she heard the name. "I beg your pardon, ma'am," she says as delicately as possible. "I know it will not likely change matters but we are hoping to determine what happened in the... tragic incident with the Jaunty. We--Mr. Graham and I--spoke to a crewmember of the Wendigo earlier. His name was..."

Kylah's memory fails her. Bell? Wells? Too much has happened in the short time since they spoke with him. She moves on hurriedly. "I forget his name, but he suggested that people from the Zephyr might be in a position to help us understand the circumstances." Suddenly she succeeds in her attempts to brute force her memory into giving up the name of the Wendigo contact.

"Mr. Pell!" she blurts, perhaps a little louder than necessary, then shakes her head apologetically. "The Wendigo crewman who recommended that you might have some insight was named Pell. Anyway... can you help us?"

An unintentional soft groan accompanies Nia's frustrated sigh when Satchell relates the bad news. What if I tell your captain this is a matter of life or death. Would that change things? Truth is, she doubts it. While the doctor asks a good question, Nia turns during Kylah's prattle and opens her communicator.

In her notes she checks the other prospective ships she and Booker received from the old woman. Nia's eyes scan the area--it's automatic, not a real attempt to magically find a crew wearing Deidre patches conveniently large enough for her to see.

But she speaks softly to Booker. "Great. My lucky streak continues. All right, there were two other likely ships and one dim prospect. Ignoring the one that's... that's now one crew member short," she says tactfully with a bitter look toward Rangin, "There's that other ship whatsername recced as a decent possibility. The Deirdre. Captain named Hvraty. Though who knows if they're even still here."

Nia glances down at the floor, then looks back at Booker in an effort to seem like her hopes weren't just dashed. "I'm gonna go try to find them. Do you want to stay here to investigate... all this? Or have a friendly 'chat' with Rangin?" She gives a shrug as if it's all the same to her. "Or, um... come with me?"

To Dr. Mäkeläinen, Satchell says, "I hear the Dierdre is headed that way, although probably not as quickly." She thinks. "The Astral Queen and Four Little Diamonds, too, I think. Maybe the Herrel'uhk? Not sure. I could be wrong."

To Kylah, she frowns and says, "I don't know of any Pell." She lowers her voice and leans closer. "But the Jaunty was a smuggler; everyone knew that. I hear the Beowulf tried to stop and search her; she tried to run but couldn't get away. After that... well, shooting at a warship that's bigger and faster than you is hardly ever a good idea."

The waiter brings drinks for Rangin and Rawlings at their table not far away.

One of the Saurians says something to its comrade. Satchell, overhearing, says something to them both in an exasperated tone of voice.

"Thank you, madam," Kylah says slowly. "The Herrel'uhk... do you know where they are from?"

Even as she speaks, her nose wrinkles slightly with a tiny frown. That crewman with the Wendigo certainly implied that the Zephyr crew would have much to say about the Jaunty--Kylah had assumed this meant they would be defending the lost ship. Yet Satchell here seems very reasonable about the possible justification for the battle.

"If you will forgive me," she says to Satchell, glancing a little nervously at the Saurians since she has no idea what they appear to be disagreeing about. "The overall mood here--including your captain's--is that the Beowulf and Starfleet in general are to blame; that the incident was unprovoked. It sounds as if you think otherwise? Of course, any loss is a tragedy. We always hope to solve disputes... peacefully..."

Her words stumble as the memories of Velir's 'dispute' and how it ended bring a slight flush to her face. She looks back at Dr. Mäkeläinen, who likely has better questions for them.

Off Kylah's look, Mäkeläinen states, "We are just trying to get back to our ship. We were not lying about that. No idea what kind of official investigation, or lack of investigation for that matter, will have been kicked off by that incident, but that's not why we happen to be here. However, if anyone did have copies of sensor logs or eyewitness accounts or any other information, and we serendipitously happened to run across such important evidence, we are in a position to make sure it does not get buried."

When he gets a chance for a quick sidebar with Kylah, he says, "We still have some ships' names in hand, though the list is growing short. I was musing earlier, if there is a local pilots' bulletin board, there may be something listed beyond scheduled runs. Even a yacht or multipurpose vessel will do if it is going our way. We want to avoid the most desperate shipmasters, but that applies both ways."

Satchell rubs her chin and says to Kylah, "Well, the Herrel'uhk is a Denobulan light freighter, Federation-flagged, but I don't know her homeport." About the Jaunty she adds, her voice still low, "I'm from Earth, lady. I grew up there. It's a lot different from here, as you've probably noticed. I know Starfleet well enough to know there was probably a good reason why the Jaunty got fragged. But to people on Ollos, well... most of them aren't going to see things that way."

She looks askance at Dr. Mäkeläinen. "I don't know about any sensor logs or evidence or anything, pal." She points her finger at him. "I don't want to talk to any damn Starfleet investigators, and I don't want to be quoted about anything. You get me?"

Nearby, the Saurians stir.

Unperturbed, Dr. Mäkeläinen blinks. "Certainly, Madame... alas, I cannot remember your name. Must be that craythur."

Considering the edginess of everyone around the table, Kylah is surprised by the other woman's use of the title Lady, which on Elas is commonly used by non-nobility to address someone of Kylah's rank and a mark of humble respect. Frankly Kylah is rather pleased to hear it in this context, and returns the deferential term with the usual nod of acknowledgment.

To Dr. Mäkeläinen, she murmurs, "It is Ms. Satchell," before raising her voice again. "Thank you, ma'am. I am no Security officer; neither is my friend here. We simply wished to know what to expect from anyone else we must ask for help. Since the man from the Wendigo suggested you might explain the situation..."

She shrugs apologetically. "Our chief aim is to leave, not begin some prolonged investigation." She rises, then hesitates. "Has your bill been seen to? I would like to thank you for your assistance by buying a round of drinks." Kylah is uncertain if the Saurians understand her, but she nods at them in gratitude.

"Oh... do you wish me to keep your name confidential when asking about the Herrel'uhk, Astral Queen and the--the Four Diamonds?" Awkward, she does her best to avoid glancing back at Ens. Rawlings and Velir at their other table. Short of smuggling Velir on board, the last ship must be avoided at all cost.

Graham can't help but show some disappointment at Satchell's initial decline.

"Well shit..."

Graham listens to the banter and grunts. "From Earth as well," he says in a low voice to Satchell. "Rest assured, we didn't hear boo from you about anything."

He briefly considers trying to make a medical emergency-based appeal, but discounts it in a moment - one, Nia might not appreciate it. Two, it means Nia alone, or at least her and the doctor, travelling solo.

He places a hand on Nia's arm. "Wait up...please. I've get your back. Rawlings can handle Rangin if need be."

Mäkeläinen smiles tightly at Kylah's "reminder" and silently wills Satchell to understand that everything is under control.

"We have just stood a round," he says to Kylah, "and it looks like these fellows," indicating the Saurians, "want their seats back. Normally we'd stay, but it looks like we all have work to do."

He tells Satchell, "I say again, may the stars light your path."

Drawing her grateful gaze back to Booker, Nia sends him a fleeting smile. "True, Double-T can handle almost anything. But clearly our mild-mannered scientist's tougher than he seems. I want to ask him what if anything he heard about the Diamonds--before he became the last man standing. They were our best shot." She tries to keep her tone from sounding too bleak or discouraged, but it's getting harder. "Unless you think we should skip and go straight to this other ship. Maybe Rangin spoke with them already. It might be short-sighted not to get a report from him, just in case... I don't know." Her eye is hurting again and once more she presses the heel of her hand into her brow. "I can't think. Do you think it's worth nonchalantly going to see the scene of the crime? Surreptitiously?"

The doctor's words prevent--perhaps not prevent, but they certainly dissuade--Kylah from speaking further. She is alarmed that she might have said something that might have jeopardized things, as she cannot think what else might have caused him to be so curt, with a curiously grim smile.

She just steps back from the table, in case the Saurians are indeed in a rush to return to their apparent colleague, and waits for Dr. Mäkeläinen to determine what is best.

Satchell hears Dr. Mäkeläinen's response and says, with a wry grin, "Yeah, see that you don't remember my name to anyone, huh?" To Kylah she says, "If you want to pay our bill, I wouldn't say no. Thanks." She raises a hand for a waitress, who approaches at once.

The Saurians rise from their chairs and stand nearby, watchfully.

Graham can see that Rawlings has noticed this.

Kylah will pay anything remaining on the check. "Thank you for your time once again, Ms.--ma'am," she substitutes quickly with a sideways look at Dr. Mäkeläinen, now that she belatedly understands his meaning. But she hesitates before leaving. "Forgive me, one more question--Have you seen anyone from the Herrel'uhk crew here, today?"

"I think I did, yeah," she says, vaguely waving off to her left and farther back into the bar. "Thataway, I think." She says something to the Saurians, who return, weapons in hand, and sit down again, taking Onn's and Graham's just-vacated chairs.

A new band has taken the Black Sun's stage, two scruffy-looking Humans and an Andorian, each laden with electronic instruments. They begin playing very loud music which sounds like a busy day at an industrial scrap-metal yard.

Mäkeläinen waves to Rawlings that everything is OK and takes a couple of steps in his direction.

“That is certainly worth checking out,” he says to Kylah. “I suppose it means splitting up again— let's see how Lt. Onn prefers to proceed.

“I am still interested whether there be classified announcements on the local net: crew members wanted, looking for a courier, seeking passage, ship for sale, that sort of thing. We may find an additional lead or two. Perhaps you know how to access that through a communicator?”

Graham sighs and takes a deep breath. "No, you're thinking just fine, Nia...we should debrief Rangin. Hell, maybe the guy he killed was as big an asshole as him and the rest of the crew is fucking over the moon about it...now where the hell is he?"

He glances around - if he has line of sight to Rawlings he mouths "Rangin?"

Kylah nods her agreement but is so startled by one of the doctor's suggestions that, despite the worry and stress, a bubbling laugh escapes her. She covers her mouth to quiet down, but continues to look at Dr. Mäkeläinen in amusement.

"Forgive me, sir... the idea of simply buying a ship is both unexpected and clever." She continues smiling and shakes her head. "Some of Starfleet's ways have infected me after all--purchasing a solution has always been my first strategy for any problem."

Sobering--though her eyes are still bright with humor--she slips her phaser back onto her duty belt and moves to her communicator. "Yes, I can try to hop onto the net. The club does not have its own open access to the network, but perhaps... well, we can still use monits to solve this issue. Someone might lend us their credentials, or allow us to borrow whatever device they might use. Or perhaps they'll just perform the search for us. There is nothing illicit in searching for classifieds."

She, presumably followed by Dr. Mäkeläinen, walks closer to Lt. Onn and Lt. Graham. Of course Kylah's gaze shifts down to take a quick measure of Velir's expression and mood, but she returns to the two standing officers. "Excuse me, ma'am. Sir." (She does not think using basic titles such as these should cause any problem; she would use the formality even if they were not in Starfleet.)

Addressing them all, including Velir and Mr. Rawlings, she speaks without too much volume. "I believe you heard the name of the alternate ship. Mister--Velir told me he found other options too." She lifts a hand to gesture politely toward the doctor, encouraging him to explain his ideas. "What would you like us to do, ma'am?"

Nia gives Booker's shoulder a little bump with her own in mute gratitude for his support as always. When Dr. Mäkeläinen and Kylah show up, fortunately not having killed anyone else in the club, she listens to the latter's report. "Nothing we didn't hear," she says bluntly, but quickly amends her tone."Good work finding where that other crew might be. As far as the net options go..."

She looks quizzically at Booker. She doesn't see the harm, as long as they don't announce who they are, but Book is more likely to see any dangers there. "I suppose we can assign you two to check out theHerrel'uhk."But I think we all need to get up-to-date on the... emergency situation. The latest emergency situation," she adds darkly.

With a brief pat against Rawlings's back, Nia asks him to move slightly away so Booker can see the much smaller man behind him. To Rangin, she says, "We need a full account of what happened. And how far you got with any other ships, if you were able." Nia's focus returns to Booker. "You should probably handle anything else I forgot."

Kylah finds nothing of particular interest on the Ollos net, given your circumstances. Several ships are mentioned as being in orbit, most of which you've already heard of, but not all. None are listed as for sale.

Rangin, in a monotone and clearly uncomfortable in Graham's presence, repeats what he earlier told Kylah about his fatal encounter with the Four Little Diamonds crew. After you bring him up to date in turn, he says, "I learned about three other ships, any one of which may be our ticket out of here, ma'am."

Kylah is struck by how very... vulnerable Velir seems with everyone looking down at him with varying degrees of accusation and annoyance. She edges a little closer, then kneels into a crouch-squat by his chair, resting on her heels so she is roughly a few inches below his height.

There is no surreptitious way to hold his hand, so of course she does not do so. But her right side brushes lightly against his left hip and thigh, and she hopes that warmth will offer him some comfort.

"That is excellent news," she says softly, though looking up at Lt. Graham with some hope that he will recognize a fellow officer's discomfort. "You may be the only one to have learned something that could save us." She falls silent in deference toward her senior officers--which, for Kylah, is all of them, either in rank or length of service.

Dr. Mäkeläinen listens to Lt. Rangin's account impassively. "I don't know," he says finally. "What other names have we got? We know the Astral Queen, Dierdre, and Herrel'uhk are all at least headed in the right direction."

"I doubt it will come down to buying a ship," he says looking at Kylah, "or pretending to buy a ship, more like, if there are indeed any for sale, but any information or name on that board may prove a valuable lead. There might be something besides the regular freight traffic. We could even post there ourselves."

Graham has to tamp down a response to Kylah's encouragement of Rangin...found out some information versus killed someone, hm...

But he can't discount whatever Rangin has in fact learned. He keeps his tone level and professional. "OK, Mr. Rangin...can you rank those three in order of how promising you think each might be?"

Rangin thinks before carefully saying, "The Astral Queen, Dierdre and Herrel'uhk, that this Mendu lady told you about, aren't the three I know of. I've heard of the Astral Queen and from what little I know, she's a good ship. But the three I had mind, that I actually talked to members of their crews myself, are the Fevre Dream, a fast packet bound for York II; the Scheherazade, a freighter, headed for Idrean VII, and the Doregg, an Uwat transport, on her way to Uwat Prime. I have no particular preference for any of them, although the Doregg seemed to be the most promising, I'd say, from my conversation with her First Officer. I got the sense he, or his ship, could use the money." He sips his drink. "There are some other ships in orbit too, of course, but I don't think any of them are likely to be any use to us, under the circumstances."

Knowing none of the ships and not much about their destinations, Kylah has nothing to add. But reaching down, her right hand hidden beneath her coat, various legs and the shadowed darkness, she gently pats Velir's lower calf. Even tired and injured--even with the horror you've experienced--you come through for us.

She looks up at him without hiding the affection in her gaze. "Did any of them bring up issues with Starfleet?" Realizing it is likely not her place to ask such a question, she flicks an apologetic glance up to Lt. Graham before returning to Velir in silence.

Once Rangin concludes first the story of the fight, and then the information he's gathered, Nia makes a low rumbling noise deep in her throat. Sighing is beginning to be a luxury Nia can't afford.

"Thanks. Good job, Lieutenant. The ship intel, I mean. The rest sounds like self-defense to me. I'm sure any witness will back it up. I don't know how big this person is--was--but I doubt anyone'd buy that you're the type to instigate a fight. No offense."

She turns around too rapidly and her brain seems to lag behind for a couple of seconds before it rotates back into position. The wooziness causes her ears to ring and she wants to fall back onto the table for support. Shutting her eyes, she gets it together and shifts so both palms rest atop the table in front of her. She doubts anyone noticed, and continues to Rangin: "Borrow your tricorder? I've wanted a starmap all night. Day. Whatever."

When she's certain her stance is stable, she lifts a hand for the device. If he passes it over, she'll use the tricorder's starmap to check the relative distances and speed requirements of each of the destinations Rangin just listed. Normally she could've rattled off the locations of each one. Now, no way.

Nia keeps her eyes on the screen as she uses the controls, but speaks to address Booker and Rawlings. "Suggestions on how to proceed. Let me check on the distances before we decide which ship crew to follow up with. What I wanna know is: what do we do about him? Would it be a bad idea for you to make a kinda..." Nia lifts a shoulder. "...A quick visual survey of the club? Just to see if anyone's investigating or asking questions? If it looks like all's forgotten, we can rest a little easier."

Easier being a relative term. She's still a little dizzy, and longingly eyes the small case that holds this new Bilitrium-like substitute. She focuses on it for a second, then finds Dr. M. "How much more can I take today?" she murmurs. "And when?"

Dr. Mäkeläinen is not hyper-focused on Nia to the exclusion of all else, but his doctor's instincts should allow him to notice if she suddenly takes a turn for the worse. He answers her, "In the case is a week's supply, more or less. Doubling the dose will just waste it, and taking fractional doses to try to stretch it out is unlikely to be effective. If you need more today, take the full hypo, before bed or if necessary late in the evening."

Graham (somewhat reluctantly, but he keeps that to himself) nods acknowledgment that Rangin has found out potentially useful additional information. If it gets Nia home alive every damn thing about the guy will be worth it in the end...

Nia's question is tougher. He rubs his chin. "Well, the way I see it...our..." He gestures toward himself and Rawlings. "First responsibility is to conduct a Starfleet investigation. But we're not required to put people in danger...if we're in a burning building, or being chased by a mob, or there's a, ah, medical emergency...we can postpone any inquiry. Second is to cooperate with legitimate local authorities. Based on what we've seen so far, the Portmaster seems legit, but I don't think he cares who gets killed in here..."

He frowns. "My biggest worry would be people using anti-Starfleet sentiment to gin up a hankering for revenge...hence the mob mention..."

"All things considered, I think we watch our backs, keep our eyes and ears open. Ask questions is we're talking to someone we think we can trust. Except..."

He sighs. "It would be sketchy not to find out who the hell this guy was. Even one hundred percent assuming it was self-defense, the deceased's family if he had any ought to be know they can contact Starfleet...Shit."

He pauses and looks at Nia. "I think me and Mr. Kylah, whose dimplomacy chops are hopefully on point today, should try to get a statement from that other crewperson Rangin mentioned before we go." He sighs again. "While the rest of you get us all a ship."

Startled by Lt. Graham's suggestion, Kylah swiftly straightens to better meet his gaze. "I will do as ordered, sir, but..." She lowers her voice slightly and studiously avoids Lt. Onn. "...But thus far, my diplomacy... you saw how I ruined the attempt to gain assistance from the men from the Wendigo. And I believe I am fortunate that the Klingon singer did not have a bat'leth."

A heaviness seems to fall on Nia's shoulders with Mäkeläinen's answer, but her expression remains neutral with her tight nod. "Right. Thanks, Doc." Then she adds a smile, because really, he deserves a lot of praise for dealing with this disaster on his first Yorktown mission.

Booker's suggestions are, unsurprisingly, sound. "Yeah. Anti-Starfleet sentiment's high already, but the victim's--" Nia stops with a briefly pained look toward the xenobiologist sitting nearby. "Sorry, Rangin. I don't know what else to call him." She returns to Booker. "The victim's family's got a right to know. Dying on some lonely planet far from home is a pretty crappy ending."

Nia regrets her words again and drops her awkward gaze to some scrunched napkin on the floor. Damn it. Her boots are too big to keep jamming her foot in her mouth like this. Forcing herself to again face her second-in-command, she mouths a silent I'm sorry, Book. If she's insensitively brought back thoughts of his wife's death--his first wife's death--Nia would want to sink through the grubby floor.

"Um... so yeah, maybe you two can do some recon with that friend, and maybe speak to their ship's captain, too? She'd probably be the best person to deliver any news. Guess what I'm not sure of is, is it safe for Rangin to move around in the club checking out other ships with me and the Doc, or should we keep him out of sight here, guarded by Rawlings."

She focuses on Rawlings, and as she does she hears Kylah murmuring something to Booker. But aside from what Nia swears sounded like the word "Klingon," it's not of interest to her. "What do you think, T?"

Dr. Mäkeläinen mentions to Lt. Graham, "I looked for the fallen gome earlier, to see if there was anything I could do to help, but did not spot any trace of him or his friend on my way back here. They neatened things up quick."

Nia scowls at the table for a moment, then scoffs when the obvious hits her. Mäkeläinen even mentioned it earlier. Placing a hand on her hip, Nia twists her mouth into a dark smile.

"We already know how they clean--the same way I do: toss the unwanted stuff where it can't be seen. Outta sight, outta mind." She raises her eyebrow at Graham. "Maybe you and Kylah ought to check the club's official corpse repository outside?"

Out of sight of the others, Rangin squeezes Kylah's hand but says nothing. Her psi tells her quite clearly that he's grateful for her support and encouragement. He says aloud, "I didn't mention Starfleet, and none of the three said anything about it."

He hands his tricorder to Onn with a weary smile. Keeping it below the table and also out of sight, she is able to access the regional starmap in its databank and sees that York II, destination of the Fevre Dream, is about two weeks away on a direct course. Idrean VII, to which the freighter Scheherazade is heading, is about nine days away. Uwat Prime, the Doregg's destination, is at least a month away, but Cavinre would be not far at all off its course, and reachable, she thinks, in maybe four or five days from here.

Graham and Kylah, after looking around and discreetly inquiring, are unable to locate anyone from the Four Little Diamonds still in the bar. They, and you, notice no one either staring at you or hunting for Rangin.

Nia reads the screen with her mask back on. She relates the information along with her journey estimates, then passes the tricorder back to Rangin. Other than thanking him, she makes no further comment.

"If there is nothing outside, nor inside, they might have beamed out, dead body included, or cleared out some other way," Dr. Mäkeläinen points out. "I don't like the idea of leaving it either, any more than with the other corpses we've encountered. We still have business with the Port Authority; that's a chance to make sure they at least let the victims' kith know."

After hearing from Nia, he mutters, "Six names." He continues, "So far with these smaller ships, the officers seem remarkably transigent once credits come into the picture. It is only Starfleet's name which is anathema at the moment.

"Two weeks, or even nine days, is beyond our time frame, though. We need to focus on the options where we are at Cavinre in under a week."

Graham rubs his head. "Shit...well, in a place like this...making bodies disappear seems like a core competency," he grunts.

Along with seeking out the rest of the crew, along with Kylah, he says "All right, doc's got the right idea. We aim for the fastest trip we can. We, uh, I... file--in person or via subspace--report with the local authorities."

The Fevre Dream will take too long in getting you to or near Cavinre, it becomes apparent, and probably likewise the Scheherazade.

In time you find yourselves sitting down at a table, in a somewhat quieter section of the Black Sun, with Jol, First Officer of the Uwat transport Doregg Ganiellej vu Felennek duj Legelvekkan na heid Jovel, or The Glorious and Immutable Legacy of the Empress Doregg, which is simply and mercifully known, for short, as the Doregg. Jol, like others of his kind, looks much like a horned lizard of Earth, but is much bigger, being almost Kylah's height, and bipedal. The reptilioid looks at you with dark, featureless eyes and speaks through a small vocoder clipped to his leathery equipment harness (he wears no clothes over his spiked and mottled carapace).

He says in a raspy voice, "Looking for a ship, I understand? I may be able to help you."


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

He is not a specialist xenobiologist, but the reptilious forms appear to be analogous enough to more familiar lizards that Dr. Mäkeläinen is sure that the life support on their ship should be adequate for humanoids (no help with the distress Lt. Onn is already experiencing, though), plus there is the fact that they seem all right here in the bar. He knows that, like Onn, they are ectothermic, so he is surprised that they are going around without clothing in this weather, but that is their business.

Nia is semi-surprised to see another race that seems in the same classification as her own, and like the doctor (though of course without knowledge of his thoughts) she's curious about how the Uwat maintain their thermal temperature when not in their ideal climate. Possibly they have developed some secondary vein system to carry heated fluid or--

Aware that she's indulging curiosity that doesn't need to be sated now, she nods to the Doregg's First Officer. "Yes, we hope to be able to offer a fair trade. We'd like transport for me and my friends--six in total--to the Cavinre system. I've been led to understand that your course isn't far from that direction and this wouldn't pose a problem." She lifts her empty hands. "We haven't much baggage to stow and--"

Her throat seizes up and she stops to prevent herself from a coughing jag. The last thing she wants is to give the impression they'd be bringing some illness on board. "Sorry, dry throat," Nia murmurs carelessly. "--Anyway, we'd only need the barest of accommodations. Would you able to take us along?" Nia glances quickly at Mäkeläinen and Booker before returning to Jol. "As for us, we'd hope to leave the sooner the better. We have some business in the system that's time sensitive. Of course we'd pay for the speed and inconvenience."

She sits back a few millimeters, clearing her throat as silently as she can and gesturing to the men on either side of her. "Booker? Mäkeläinen? Have I left anything out?"

All six of the Yorktown crew on Ollos are now gathered around the Uwat officer.

He rasps, "Cavinre? Not right on the way for us, but not too far off it, either. That seems possible. Six of you? Yes. We have two other parties aboard already, but I think we could find room for you. How much could you pay?"

Kylah listens intently to all this, having seated herself between the doctor and Lt. Graham. She inhales as if about to speak, but Lt. Onn seems to guess her intent and shoots across a look as cutting as a phaser beam. Closing her parted lips at once, Kylah exhales in frustration. After a moment of thought she leans over to Lt. Graham with a tentative tap on his forearm.

"I understand you must negotiate, sir," she whispers into his ear. "But... know I will pay whatever is needed if it helps her."

Graham is surprised by Kylah's touch--and words...

He can't help but half turn toward her.

Me too, he thinks - with the caveat that he's not at all sure he could come up with the sums required regardless of good intention.

He doesn't know enough about Elas or Kylah to know whether or not she's expressing mostly good intentions or a healthy dose of access to wealth...he actually has no trouble believing she can back up good intentions with the latter.

"Thank you," he whispers.

Clearing his throat, he says "word is 10,000 monits per is the going rate. We'll match plus 20 percent if we get there quick."

First Officer Jol makes what Graham interprets as a dismissive gesture. "Monits! Only good here. No, thanks, no no. Uwat nugrasii are best, but Federation credits will do fine. You are Federation people, yes? So. Let's say... 15,000 credits each, and we get you within shuttle range of Cavinre in three days."

Graham knows when he's being taken for a ride, in more ways than one; he also doesn't have that many credits, even after the most recent funds transfer from the Yorktown. After about ten minutes of haggling, he gets Jol down to 12,500 credits each, with 8,500 down and the balance due upon upon debarking for Cavinre.

Jol seems pleased. He bangs the table with one spiky, six-fingered fist and says, "Done and done. So. You have your baggage? Or can get it soon? Good." He looks at a small, oddly-shaped chrono hanging from his equipment harness. "Shuttle will lift in 40 minutes. Docking Bay 94 at the starport, not far from here. Don't be late." He gets up to go.

"I have no idea how trustworthy these fellows are," Dr. Mäkeläinen says after they are out of earshot, "but that price, the rest payable in arrear, ought to buy us an awful lot of good will.

"Forty minutes.... We are not likely to get a much better chance to escape this planet. We do not have any baggage besides what we're carrying, do we? We are under orders to secure the Tesla. Is there a way to copy all the logs and telemetry data and then destroy or disable any sensitive or classified systems remotely?

"I would still like to take another deek at the personal effects we picked up outside. A minute or two with a tricorder will tell us all we are going to find out short of getting it to a lab. There is no way we can take it with us, so that is the best I can do under the circumstances. Not sure I can find out anything more about where it came from, but we will know if there is anything dangerous and have something to say when we hand it off."

Forty minutes. And three days! Nia's shoulders straighten at the news. The latter's not optimal but she's a beggar, not a chooser, and it's still pretty damn good unless the estimates of this medication were overly generous. She doubts that: Mäkeläinen is a careful guy.

Once her sense of exhilaration and relief take over, the others' conversation about finances seems as unable to penetrate her brain as the insects back home unlucky enough to meet the windows of one of her father's low-altitude airships.

As she sees the Doregg's 1st Officer stand, she glances over to Rangin with exhausted but genuine gratitude. The sight of his still-haunted gaze, however, reminds her of the responsibility she bears for the crew's safety. Her health can't be the only consideration, not with Rangin's unfinished business hovering over him.

Dr. Mäkeläinen starts raising some good points, but Nia leaves them to Booker to ponder, since he's much more knowledgeable about all the business that happened during her hospital stay. She carefully rises from her chair and heads to Jol as he starts to leave.

"Thanks for accommodating us, sir--uh, First Officer Jol. How do you prefer to be addressed? I don't know Uwat protocol." She smiles fleetingly. "Out of curiosity, I just wanted to ask--who are the other two parties we'll be traveling with? Are they also headed to Uwat Prime?"

Kylah watches with an almost daughterly pride while Lt. Graham negotiates with the Uwat officer with the skill of a diplomat. And he thinks he is graceless--an oaf, she believes he has called himself more than once. She is particularly impressed by his skill at getting such a reasonable fee, all the while acting as if it were exorbitant. The doctor plays along too, probably concerned that the Uwat man might overhear and realize he is being gulled.

She turns to Velir and offers a small smile and soft, encouraging words. "We will soon be away from here, thanks to you. Remember that if you are tempted to disparage yourself over what happened. You may have helped save Lt. Onn's life."

Dr. Mäkeläinen's thoughts about the personal effects of the dead man make good enough sense. Although if Kylah had possession of them, she would have already attempted to see if the invisible matter is indeed some sort of invisible message. Her uncle spent years virtually implanting a burning curiosity in Kylah to uncover secrets, not to mention honing her skills to do so.

But that is not the doctor's way, nor Lt. Graham's; although perhaps it might be if the latter were not more focused (and correctly, too) on working to get them off Ollos. Velir would probably demur from sneaking at such things on ethical grounds. And Lt. Onn...

If it were my idea she would refuse, Kylah thinks, lower lip nearly pouting in annoyance. But she brushes away the unproductive thinking. "I know I am stating the obvious," she says to three men, "but given the time, could examination of... those materials not wait until we are in whatever vehicle we use to return to the starport? As for the Tesla--"

Kylah hesitates and lowers her voice, again looking over to their commanding officer. It is a sore subject for Lt. Onn and even though the older woman is focusing on the Doregg officer, Kylah knows her hearing will likely sharpen if she hears the name of the vessel to which she seems so attached.

"With all due respect to our orders... should we not get to the starport as soon as we can? Perhaps when we get to the Port Authority we can confirm whether the shuttle is truly a priority. I cannot believe the Captain or even Cmdr. Vargas would wish us to risk the chance to get back in favor of securing a ship at the bottom of a frozen lake."

Even as she says this, however, Kylah eyes Lt. Graham with what might be mutual concern. Because it strikes her that while the captain or Security Chief might be willing to make that sacrifice... the same might not be said of Lt. Onn herself.

The Uwat male says to Onn, "First Officer or Mr. Jol is acceptable. But I am not one to, how do you say it, stance on ceremony. And apologies, but I am not authorized to tell anyone who else is aboard our ship until we actually depart. One of the parties is... somewhat unpopular down here. Yes." He resumes walking, heading for the door.

Rangin returns the young Communications officer's smile. He squeezes her knee under the table. "Thanks, Kylah. I hope so. I really do hope so."

The warmth of Velir's hand on her knee brings an always-easily triggered flush to Kylah's face, especially since her one-piece suit is so thin that it transfers both his touch and a tingle of the tender thoughts he seems to feel for her.

The thought of their kisses earlier does not help her burning cheeks, so she does her best to think of something else. She takes a swift look over to Lt. Onn and Mr. Jol, but cannot gather anything from the latter's face--Kylah has no experience with this race's expressions, if indeed that is how they show emotion. The Sidonian helmswoman's back is to Kylah, so that offers up no information, either.

She squeezes Velir's shoulder as she takes a few steps toward the other officers. "Shall I ask the bouncer about contacting some transport?" Her gaze aims the question at all four men--Velir, Ens. Rawlings, Dr. Mäkeläinen, and Lt. Graham. "If we wish to get in touch with the York--er, the ship--we must not delay. We will need some time for the message to get there and back with any response."

Nia's less than comforted by Jol's response. Her hands stretch and clench alternately with tension while she watches him leave, until finally she stumbles forward to ask him a final question. She just doesn't like the lack of due diligence they've done--or that they'll have any time to do--on this Uwatian rescue vessel.

"Jol," she calls, reaching out toward him without any physical contact. She has no idea what their culture feels about touch. "Jol, one more thing. Sorry--you're a first officer. That means you're responsible for a bunch of other crew members, right? Well I'm no first officer," Nia adds, sticking to the truth. "But I'm kind of the leader of my little group. So you get that I have to keep my--friends safe."

She leans her hip against a nearby table. "I get you can't give IDs of passengers. Fair enough. We'll get the same courtesy, I appreciate that. But--" Nia's voice softens. "This person who's 'not popular' down here. Is there anything I should be worried about? Are we taking a risk joining whoever-this-is onboard?"

Dr. Mäkeläinen says, "Yes, well, I don't think we should stay here and catch the next act. As for the Tesla, it took twenty minutes to get from the lake to the port, not counting the time spent waiting for a driver. So, a round trip is out. Anything that can't be handled remotely has to be the next team's problem; whatever was on that shuttle that Starfleet thinks is important, it is not worth risking anyone's life."

"I scanned the--- materials--- earlier, outside, before I came in," he says to Kylah, "but the results, as said, were inconclusive. The back of a vehicle is not much of an improvement, but if we have a few quiet minutes I can try to identify the exact substance that was on the paper and the victim's hands. Also, a random spill or smudge should be easy to distinguish from deliberate patterns or writing. And perhaps you could take a look and see what you make of his communicator. But we had better finish all of that before it is time for our final departure."

Rangin replies to Kylah's suggestion, "We could do that, although Jol told me earlier that we would have comms access once we're aboard."

Rawlings does not respond; he seems preoccupied for the moment, looking around for any potential threats to the group from among the Black Sun patrons.

Jol pauses. His face seems incapable of any change in expression, much like his diminutive Earth counterparts. He says to Onn, "I understand. It is a group and not a person who is not popular here. Life is... full of risks. Your party seems like one which is capable of taking care of itself. Maybe not. I cannot promise perfect safety, but I would not purposefully bring you into a dangerous situation, of course. But if you would rather look for other transport, go ahead. Yes." He looks again at his chrono. "Now, I must be going." He moves off.


"Uwat" is a proper noun as well as the adjective.

Graham rubs his chin. "Job one is to make this ship." He shrugs. "I don't like it, but the reality is we don't have the money or personnel to do anything useful about the shuttle beyond what we can do remotely, either on the ground or once we have comms access." He shakes his head. "If by some miracle we could retrieve it, we can't reliably secure it, even if one or more of us stayed behind. And even if we had the expertise I don't think we have the monits for a deepwater destruct mission."

Kylah nods to all the others have said. After agreeing to take a look at the anonymous man's communicator, she looks around again. "So... you do not think it necessary to tell the captain beforehand about needing to leave without following one of her orders? I do not disagree," she adds hastily. "I understand the priorities have changed. And perhaps I did not adequately convey the urgency of the situation. I shall go to the bouncer and ask about arranging transport."

What Lt. Graham said is essentially what Dr. Mäkeläinen thinks. About the idea of splitting up again or someone staying behind, he says, "We should stick together until we make that ship, and perhaps after we board as well, at least until we get a feel for what kind of trip it's going to be."

He will go along with everyone else once arrangements are made and it is time to leave the Black Sun.

The bouncer calls for a cab. Soon it has landed outside the Black Sun. It is driven by a different cabbie than before, a scruffy-looking Human woman of indeterminate age. "Where to?" she asks, not looking or sounding particularly interested.

Nia, who's managed to stumble forward to catch up with the others, stops to glance at the body pile, wondering if Rangin's pal is on there. She hugs her coat more tightly to her and shudders. Having caught the tail end of Kylah's question, Nia's torn by the knowledge they're disobeying orders for only one reason. If she could she'd tell Book to stand down, that they should find some way to acquire an ad hoc crew to just... stand by the lake in shifts. Something. Anything.

Because even forgetting about the captain's orders... It's her shuttle. The Tesla. It's being dumped and abandoned for junk, just like the corpses outside the club door.

Nia really can't tell what's the most reasonable decision. Is it insane to insist on prioritizing a doomed shuttle over a crew member's well-being? If it weren't her, Nia wouldn't hesitate. But it is her. Her leadership role to keep everyone in line, following the Captain's directions as ordered.

She doesn't know and the confusion and guilt are making her head hurt. So she'll let Booker make the call. He seems to want to get straight to the Doregg. But he's not thinking objectively either. Is he?

She responds to the driver, trying to recall Jol's info about his ship's location. "The--the port authority, I guess," she says hazily since that's as much as she can remember from last night. While she shivers outside waiting for the others to enter the cab, she shares Jol's comments about the unknown group that appears to be as anxious to get off-planet as they are. It's something the Security officers should take into account.

Dr. Mäkeläinen's primary concern is still not the shuttle; it is Onn's, and everybody else's for that matter, safety in this endeavour. He, too, notes the pile of bodies. Are they more, the same, or possibly fewer than when he entered? Are they the same corpses he saw earlier?

When Graham and Onn are both within earshot he says, "I will officially back up whatever you decide, of course. Every mission has to account for at the very least the possibility of unforeseen events. Whoever assigned us to secure and salvage the wreck, that came after our initial comm which declared a medical emergency. That implies we are not at full strength. If everyone except the Lieutenant and me stays behind, that makes four. Call it two teams, with no redundancy. But no engineer. No equipment or resources. It's a precarious op."

Nia's account of the unknown groups... "Everything the first officer said about them equally applies to us. Encouraging to see they take discretion seriously."

Snapping her head toward the doctor--a move she regrets when vertigo and nausea stab at her--Nia looks at him in surprise. "All due respect, Doc, I'm not abandoning my crew and my ship. We are all staying together. If there's an issue regarding the orders, I'll take the hit. My decision. Multiple parts of this clusterfuck are my fault anyway."

She straightens to full height and jabs her finger to point into the taxi. "Everyone get in. Now."

The pile of bodies outside the Black Sun looks unchanged from when you last saw it in the cold winter light of Ollos.

As he climbs into the taxi, which is big enough to accommodate all six of you, Rawlings says to Onn, "The Port Authority and the starport are in different places. I assume we want to go directly to the starport, ma'am?"

Rangin gets in, too.

Dr. Mäkeläinen gets in.

Nia makes the sane call of not risking the remainder of their party on an excursion to the wrecked shuttle, which saves him from any trouble trying to argue about it. "Right; can't be done. Not properly, anyway, which is why I was wondering why we received the order after they knew we were in no position to implement it. It's not your fault at all. But I have a feeling that is a discussion better postponed to the debriefing, after we are all safely back aboard the Yorktown."

The pile of bodies reminds him yet again that he is still carrying possessions lifted from a murder victim (and/or alien spy, according to the prevailing theory voiced by Ens. Kylah). Whether they are headed to the Port Authority HQ or directly to the starport, since he may not get a better chance, he will do what he suggested earlier and hand the foreign communicator to Kylah while he himself performs an intensive medical tricorder scan on the thin packet of folded papers, hopefully enough to identify what the substance on it is, or, failing that, at least to determine whether it is toxic or not, whether it appears to be splashed on the paper or applied deliberately, and whether (as it is already known to be organic) it seems to be more like blood or other bodily fluids or more like some grease, Romulan ale, fruit juice, or similarly mundane substance.

Climbing in after the doctor, Kylah accepts the communicator with a distracted "I will try, Doctor." She finds it disturbing that the man who attacked Velir is not among the bodies by the club entrance. Once seated, she flicks a quick, questioning look toward the xenobiologist, then shifts to Lt. Graham, Dr. Mäkeläinen and Ens. Rawlings. Her fingers busy themselves evaluating the communicator--whether there are any obvious controls or ways to open the device.

"I suppose I should not ask," she says, her voice appropriately discreet considering the driver not far away. "But if that pile has not grown, and there was no sign of the...interaction... Do you really think they might have beamed out?" She nods to Dr. Mäkeläinen, acknowledging his theory. "With no one from their ship coming to investigate, or seek justice? What they might think is justice," she corrects apologetically before she glances down to add a visual examination of the communicator.

Nia's gaze follows Rawlings as he sits down. "Yes, the starport. Thanks, T. I thought we might need to check back for any messages from home, just in case..." After a few silent seconds, Nia switches her focus to Booker. "Better let them know where we are. So, umn... age before beauty? Medical age, I mean," she adds with a fleeting smile while tapping her chest to indicate herself. "We've swapped roles a bit."

She girds herself before entering the vehicle and sitting, then sliding over to make room for Book. Her lungs gladly take in the warmer air, though it's not doing much other than defrosting them.

Then she looks around at her crewmates. They're an odd sight. Starfleet faces, professional faces--most, anyway--but the effect's diminished while their bodies are clad in... whatever the hell these outfits are. It feels somehow shameful to be leading a Yorktown crew that can't even wear their uniforms because of where she crashed their damn shuttle.

"Well, hopefully we'll be back where we belong in a couple days," she murmurs. "How long a trip is this, do we know? I don't wanna miss our ride. Probably should've made more specific meetup plans."

Everyone gets in the cab. It is a tight fit, but you manage it.

"The starport, eh?" the cabbie asks. "Izzat right? Trouble nil. Have you there in five minutes. Just across town, out on the peninsula." Not hearing any objection, she closes the doors, engages the antigrav and lifts the cab off the ground. The street falls away beneath you, and you all get another look at the city, still rundown and gritty despite the brilliant winter sunshine. The glistening snow on the nearby peaks and the choppy dark waters of the ocean offshore, however, remind some of you once again of Norway.

The cabbie is true to her word, and soon the starport is ahead and then beneath you, gray, wide and low. Several small spacecraft and shuttles can be seen in the various circular or oval docking bays. She banks and brings the cab down with a stomach-churning swoop, but then settles to the ground as gentle as a feather.

"Four hundred monits," the cabbie says, rubbing her nose in boredom.

A trio of insectoid aliens, bundled against the cold, pass nearby, one lugging a large metallic box.

Setting aside her examination of the dead man's communicator, Kylah picks up her own device and announces that she will pay the monits. She adds a 100 monit tip, uncertain how the exchange rate works again but it seems like the right amount to her. In addition to the financial gratitude, she says a warm "thank you" to the cab driver for the trip. Presumably, the driver will let them out now that she has been paid.

The trio of insectoids catches her interest, and she leans closer to the window to see if they are Uwat, perhaps even the same one they spoke to earlier.

The cabbie shows the greatest emotion you've seen in your brief acquaintance with her when she accepts Kylah's payment, including the generous tip. "Thanks, lady," she says, smiling. The doors unlock and you may all now get out.

The communicator has a small keypad with unfamiliar characters, and several other unlabeled buttons. It does not do anything when Kylah tries pressing any of them, other than a small light briefly blinking off and on.

The insectoids are tall, olive-green and spindly, not at all like the shorter, more compact, brownish-tan and reptilian Uwat.

Despite everything that has happened to distract, Dr. Mäkeläinen cannot help being entranced by the bird's-eye view. It does something to soothe his soul.

He hopes their trail of extraordinarily generous tips will not by itself draw more attention to their group, but, in any case, by the time word gets out they plan to be long gone.

He finishes, at least for now, the chemical scanning, packs his devices away again, gets out of the taxi, and checks out the port. Does it look busy? Is the Uwat ship visible nearby?

Graham's suppresses a smile at the cabbie's reaction to what must have been Kylah's tip.

Sometimes what appeared to be naivete or at the least unfamiliarity with normal life in your average Federation or Federation-adjacent worlds had caused problems and pain. This looks like it made someone's day.

He's also grateful to have reached the starport quickly. "Let's find our ride," he says half to Nia half to the group. He sighs and shakes his head. "Just to put a pin on it, as senior Security officer, splitting up with anyone left behind to babysit a Starefleet ship--given the hostility right now--is asking for a mob with pitchforks and torches that we couldn't handle without making this worse...sometimes when the choice is fight or live another day you..." Hearing his words he can't help but turn toward Nia. "You live another day," he says softly.

Out in the cold again, Nia winces against the air and sunlight. She's glad Booker thinks she made the right call--not surprised, because he'd probably only hesitate if there were people being abandoned rather than a shuttle. But she's relieved nonetheless.

His quiet words draw her gaze to his. "Another day," Nia repeats, as softly, adding a hopeful smile. "Cheers to that." To the group as a whole, she raises her voice. "Time's rolling by. If there's anything that needs to be done... do it Fast. They gave us forty minutes, it's taken us about ten now."

She doesn't need to tell everyone to move, and doesn't. Walking with Booker, Nia does her best to keep up with her usual stride, which in the past has always matched his. "As for that comm device and the... whatever else you got from that dead guy--the first one," she adds with another apologetic glance at Rangin, "Give 'em to some staffer who doesn't look like security. All things equal I'd find law enforcement, but to be blunt, we don't have time to get involved in questioning."

A worry sparks in her brain and Nia swallows. "If anyone objects... if you think it's our duty... I'm not sure I can make that call objectively. You'll all need to decide. If everyone's on board, let's do this discreetly and get to the ship."

Kylah is also doing her best to keep her short legs moving at the same pace as the others, all while trying to gauge Velir's mood (with her eyes alone, just as she does with the doctor and the junior security guard). She holds the extra communicator tightly. Interesting though this might have been, she finds it difficult to focus on an unknown victim when one of their own has unwillingly caused someone else's death.

"Yes ma'am," she says when realizing Lt. Onn probably expects the crew to speak up. "I am concerned about the Four Little Diamonds, though. What if they are docked here? What if there is some sort of alert, or bulletin, regarding what happened?" Her hand surreptitiously reaches over to Velir's back to caress it, if only through the thick material of his coat, before withdrawing.

"And I know we are in hurry, but going off with strangers at the last minute, in a rush, when he have no verification... If I may, Lt. Onn... Lt. Graham," she adds with a more urgent tone. "I strongly think we should get in touch with the York--" Kylah casts her eyes quickly from side to side, making sure there is no one nearby. "...With our friends. To tell them with whom we are leaving, their registry, their destination... anything."

Her pleading face turns to the doctor, then the others. "If not our--friends back home--then someone here. The man at the Port Authority. Anyone who might be able to pass such information along, if we do not show up. If something happens. As you know--some of you--" she amends with another look at Dr. Mäkeläinen, "I... I have had a bad experience leaving with a stranger without telling anyone."

You all leave the cab and pass under a heavy thermocrete arch marked OLLOS STARPORT across the top.

There is a straight, low-ceilinged passageway which leads to a large, airy but somewhat worn-down atrium, also of thermocrete. Almost two dozen other passageways open off it; fading signs mark where each leads to, including one, you see, for DOCKING BAYS 7, 8, 94. There is a bustle of people of various starfaring races in the atrium, as well as several small food stalls of dubious cleanliness, a pharmacy and other travel-related businesses, and a computerized information kiosk which has clearly seen better days. A stolid Tellarite security guard in Port Authority uniform is standing at the far end of the atrium.

You see no one from the Four Little Diamonds. Kylah notices, however, among those in various starship crew uniforms and civilian attire, an older Human man in the gray-green coveralls and golden insignia of the Drelloan Exploratory Corps passing through.

The sights and sounds of the starport send a pleasant electric thrum through Nia. All the travelers, the proximity of starships of all flavors, techs and engies nearby... She wants to be part of this, striding to her own vessel, not a refugee seeking escape. Even so, she feels more alive here than she has since they crashed.

Once she's taken a quick measure of the surroundings, she starts toward Docking Bay 94, grateful beyond belief for its proximity. At last she answers Kylah.

"Yes, leaving word with the ship's mandatory. But there's not much time. Once we check in with the Doregg, you can go find someone, maybe that Port Authority worker over there. I gotta think there's a relatively good comms system here. Or maybe they can patch you through to whatever you used before." Nia doesn't stop walking, but she glances back. "If I'm forgetting something speak up, folks."

"The report and physical evidence," Mäkeläinen says, "go to law enforcement or security. But we cannot risk talking directly to law enforcement or security. An interesting dilemma. A secure courier, perhaps, with instructions to deliver the package to security headquarters at the Port Authority building?"

Understanding that time is at a premium, Kylah says a quick "yes ma'am" to Lt. Onn's request and keeps walking. But she cannot help staring at the older human--well, he looks human, at any rate. He himself is not familiar, but the uniform makes her frown. For some reason she connects it with those wiry insectoid beings outside.

Then her eyes widen with a flash of memory. "Oh," she blurts, quietly but distinctly. The last time--the only time, as far as she knows--that she saw that uniform was back on Anubis. Worn by a woman, who was sitting with another insectoid, in that grubby bar. Kylah had been seeking a way off planet, far away from the Yorktown and her duties and all the people who despised her.

She knows she is as much a stranger to this older man as he is to her. Still, the reminder of that evening on that cursed planet is horrifying, and she drags her gaze away from him, a shudder running through her despite the warmth of her coat. How far must she travel to flee memories of such terrible ordeals?

Everyone has something,. she tells herself forcefully. Yes, she has Anubis...and the Sakathian research station, And OCIII, and Sigma Iota--Kylah has had very bad luck indeed. But this very planet will likely induce torment in Velir, and probably Lt. Onn as well. Lt. Graham must have extremely disturbing memories given his job and...and his family. Kylah does not yet know whether Ens. Rawlings or Dr. Mäkeläinen have such things in their past, but in all likelihood, they do. She knows she is far from unique.

Biting her tongue, she keeps her eyes on the comforting, familiar sight of Lt. Graham ahead of her.

Rangin does not respond to Onn but keeps walking behind her, apparently as intent as her on leaving.

Rawlings says to Dr. Mäkeläinen, "Yeah, we could do something like that. Or, since we'll be offworld so soon, we could time it until just before we actually raise ship, maybe?"

The Drelloan Exploratory Corps officer walks by and is soon lost in the crowd.

Graham nods his approval to a couple statements. "Yes - alerting Yorktown the deets on our way out. And sending the goods on to, well even the Portmaster, with a note on how to reach us, which would be "Yorktown rather than any intervening steps."

Nia can't help an affectionate smile, albeit to herself, at hearing Mäkeläinen's and Rawlings's suggestions, and of course Booker's too. "Good options, everyone. First and most important is finding the Doregg and making sure everything's copacetic. We'll ask about a courier and getting a message out. Maybe we can get our lift to hold for five minutes while Kylah sends out the info. Um, not by herself. Booker, you can escort her to wherever." She lowers her voice to address him alone. "Doubt there'll be trouble, but you know her rep as well as I."

She looks behind her to Mäkeläinen. "Doc, we'll ask about the courier at the ship. You don't happen to have anything in your supplies to keep it safe and ideally hidden, do you? Some sterile container or bag or whatever?" Nia glances around to see how much farther they need to go to their destination.

The irony is, he deliberately packed light for this trip, focusing on emergency medical equipment and forgoing specimen jars. Dr. Mäkeläinen tells Onn, "I have sterile wound dressing, and we can also make use of the sterile packaging it comes in. I can add padding and tape everything up securely if we are going to hand it to a courier; I do not have a proper box, though. The courier might have a box or envelope."

He will carefully package and stash the items in question if that is what she asks.

Quick little glances at Velir seem to tell Kylah nothing. Without breaching his privacy, she has no real way to determine how he is feeling. He has always had a tendency to refrain from showing emotions, both the unpleasant ones and even those where joy is overwhelming. It is a skill that must have kept him going at the Academy, not to mention life on troubled Coridan.

Coridanites wear traditional ceremonial masks--Kylah has seen his, back at Lt. JG Fujishiro's funeral service. But the truth is, Velir Rangin needs nothing external to hide.

"I wish I had been able to figure out that communicator," she says gently, hoping her words about an unrelated subject might fill the empty void surrounding him. "There is a button there, and a light, but I dare not try too hard to open an unfamiliar device. I might inadvertently make contact or send a message, and that might harm any real investigation into when the communicator was last used. Or to whom. Or by whom," she adds, realizing that this might not even belong to the victim.

She turns to Dr. Mäkeläinen. "I should give it back to you, for the courier." She takes it from her coat pocket, keeping it hidden in her palm as best she can while looking at it one more time. "It seems such a shame... with this, and those papers, we have so many little pieces of a puzzle, yet are unable to solve it. We do not even know if there is anything to solve. How frustrating." When she thinks about what she has just said, Kylah briefly closes her eyes in regret. "But the victim is the one who matters. Not my curiosity. I know that."

Nia waits impatiently for Kylah to stop being Kylah, and in the pleasant silence afterwards responds to Mäkeläinen. "Yes, Doc, the bag sounds perfect. Bundle it all up. I guess the communicator too."

After a beat, she sighs internally and shakes her head to herself. Her nerves are stretched thin and for whatever reason, Kylah's been making her even more edgy. But that's not the girl's fault.

She gathers her strength and looks over her other shoulder to the younger woman. "Nothing wrong with curiosity. That's why we joined Star--why we joined this business," she amends hastily. Her careful gaze scans their surroundings automatically but she doubts anyone's bothering to look at them, much less listen.

"Anyway," she continues, "I'm sure you did your best, Kylah. Thanks for trying."

Nia gladly falls silent, feeling a little better now that she's managed to go through the motions of performing a senior officer's job... if only adequately.

You may be able to get a box in one of the small shops, there in the starport atrium.

Rangin is more guarded with Kylah now than he had been in the Black Sun. She has a sense that he is tired and frazzled and just wants to get off Ollos - the sooner, the better. Still, he replies to her a bit ambivalently, "Yeah, I guess that could be a risk. It doesn't really concern us, does it, given our mission? If we leave it behind, that might be for the best after all."

No one seems to be paying any attention to your group.

Dr. Mäkeläinen takes advantage of the few minutes' interval while Kylah and the others make final arrangements, and no one seems to be paying any attention to them, to procure a box and a cheap e-padd from a nearby shop. He does not speak as he rapidly prepares a fair copy of the forensic report he has already been composing in his head: time, place, and circumstances of his encounter with the man, how he made a decision to interfere with the scene to render any possible aid, finding the man dead and beyond medical help, finding his possessions and screening them for hazards. All scan data from the corpse itself and from the man's effects are attached.

He hesitates a moment, and adds his official credentials as a medical officer and contact details. They should be off-world before the message is received, in case they end up summoned. He inserts a paragraph about how a life-and-death medical emergency prevents him from making this preliminary report in person.

The good doctor gets a suitable box and data pad for his task for a few hundred monits. He is able to pretty quickly do what he set out to do.

You now have about ten minutes to catch your shuttle to the Doregg at Docking Bay 94.

Nia notes Mäkeläinen's excellent efforts in packing up the evidence and composing a report--at least she assumes that's what he's doing, re: the latter. "Good work," she says with a nod. "Damn efficient. Thanks for handling all that."

Frustrated by how long they've been wandering, she pulls out her communicator to check the time--and lets out a soft, subvocalised curse. Ten minutes? She didn't expect such a seemingly labyrinthian, lengthy trek--although with a number like 94, she probably should've guessed this particular docking bay wouldn't be right around the bend.

She pushes herself to walk faster, though the rapid breathing and movement make her muscles protest. Then, after a dozen more steps, a vise-like pinch attacks her left side, forcing a startled groan from her lips. Her back hunches slightly and she instinctively grasps Booker's arm for support. But only for a second--with a quick apology she releases him and switches the hand down to her aching diaphragm.

Swallowing the pain, Nia suddenly anticipates what's coming and stretches her free hand behind her in a halt gesture. "I'm fine, Doc," she says through a clenched jaw. "No stopping. I'll walk it off." Even as she says this, her eyes search desperately for any signage or directions to indicate whether they're getting any closer. "Where--where the hell is this docking bay? The Delta Quadrant?"

"Eyes up, signs for Docking Bay 94," Graham says00it's intended for everyone, but he specifically looks at Rawlings.

Not that the rest of the team doesn't have eyes, but Rawlings has seemed like a stand-up Security officer, and that usually means acuity at situational awareness under pressure.

"Let's double time it folks..." He nods at Nia. "We'll get you there N--...Lieutenant." He adds in a lower voice. "Whatever it takes. Even if it means hitching a ride...uh by that I mean more likely on Mr. Rawling's back, not mine." He forces a small smile.

Nia moves in an atypically stiff gait but keeps going. "I don't want to ride anyone else," she says quietly. Not noticing her flub--she'd meant to say just "anyone"--she ignores her stitch and turns to face Booker with an attempt at humor. "And to make your life easier, I hereby grant you permission to address me informally. If I croak I wanna hear my own name before I do."

After a thought, she turns around to include the others. "That goes for everyone, actually. Until we're back in safe territory, all of us better wipe out any formality they've drummed into your heads. We were only invited to this party 'cause we're nobodies. Let's keep it that way, Doc here excluded. Everyone okay with that?" Her eyes find Kylah's. "I know, you're not the casual type. Think you can manage slumming it with just our names?"

Bizhi keeps an eye out for the correct docking bay, but also for a competent-looking, not-Port-Authority looking, courier stand to hand off his box (with instructions to make sure delivery takes not under thirty minutes, along with a generous tip). If there is nothing like that, he will use the regular mail service or parcel service, whatever is around the concourse because he is not about to deviate from their route.

To a pained Nia waving him off, he simply says, "Let's just get on board." He can take a look at her then, and they can all use some quiet downtime.

He tells the others, "You may call me 'Doc' if you wish, but that does not make me a somebody! In fact, a monicker or two will surely lend our group some informality." He hopes the other passengers on the ship will not get too chatty. Innocent small-talk like "What do you do?" will inevitably lead to "Where do you work?" and that is exactly what they are trying to avoid. If the other passengers are smugglers, however, or worse, they will know well enough to accept a "here and there", "this and that", and "travelling on business".

Kylah has long noticed Lt. Graham's many attempts to refrain from calling Lt. Onn by her forename. The effort is rather charming. She glances at the C.O., whom she reminds herself is not at her best, and agrees. "Yes, of course I can, Nia," she says. "I will almost always follow the preference of whomever I am addressing. With exceptions."

She frowns slightly. "I hope my use of formal speech and address does not offend anyone. It is the way of my House--of all Elasian Greater Houses, I should say. But then, we do not have surnames. You have little risk of forgetting what to call me," Kylah adds with a little shrug.

Rawlings says, "It's up this way, I think." He agrees to use first names from now on.

Rangin says, "I can do that, too, of course." He musters an affectionate wink for Kylah in response to her comment. She doesn't think anyone else noticed it, but Dr. Mäkeläinen did.

The good doctor sees no courier stand nor anything resembling regular mail or parcel service along the way.

You soon find yourselves in Docking Bay 94, which is open to the sky. A stubby shuttlecraft about twice the size of the Tesla, light brown, a bit battered, streaked with dark lubricant stains around its maintenance ports, is nestled in it. Two Uwat stand near the heavy door of its airlock.

Starfleet's tosh ship-shape standards have their obvious merits, but Dr. Mäkeläinen is comforted to see a shuttle that looks like it does solid work. Nia would know the difference between industrial aesthetic and sloppy maintenance. “What do you think?” he asks her, indicating the craft.

It is taxing his composure that after all their ordeal so far, he has still not been able to accomplish this one small task, though a perfect dénouement for this mission where every single thing has gone wrong with grim consistency. He is still holding the hot package, and there seem to be only a few minutes left—better take care of it before boarding. Somehow. The crewmen guarding the airlock might know something (is anyone else about?), or he and the others might talk their way into that delay they were discussing.

Eyes scanning the ship for anything blatantly troublesome--which is all a superficial once-over is likely to spot--Nia purses her lips before responding.

"Far as I can immediately see, other than not looking fresh out of drydock at the Fleet Yards, and being in dire need of a cleaning wand, there's nothing worrying." Now she's got an excuse to bend over and relieve her stitch, so she does, enabling her to give a visual inspection of the Doregg's ventral plating.

She's looking at the nacelle(s), weapon capacity if visible, and above all signs of past hull damage. Too many welded plate patches might indicate multiple past breaches, or least weaknesses in integrity. And if they're getting dinged up all the time it'd make her worry about their shields. Not to mention the pilot's dodging skills.

Anything she spots, weapon-wise, she'll casually point out to Booker and ask his opinion. Otherwise, if she doesn't see anything concerning, she'll straighten and glance at the Uwat crew (if that's what they are) by the airlock. She lowers her voice. "I'd give an arm to go through a preflight check, Doc. But that'd be a ballsy request to ask of our hosts. Besides, I did the Tesla's preflight--the initial one on the Yorktown--and look where that got us. I wish..."

No point in finishing that sentence. She shifts attention to Booker and Rawlings. "Unless either of you sees anything you don't like, let's go check in with the pretty boys over there."

Velir's wink brings a little flutter of pleasure and a small smile to Kylah's face. His spirit is not gone, if he can connect with her in this minor but engaging way.

She can sense Dr. Mäkeläinen's impatient concern, not so much from any empathic methods but simply from the way he holds on to the important package, and how he is searching the bay. Kylah cannot help assisting his quest. If there is any part of the bay that is manned by both the ship and starport personnel alike, she takes a few steps closer and peeks in.

There is no one in the docking bay other than you and the two Uwat.

As you approach the shuttle, you see no engine nacelles. Its hull appears to be some kind of ceramic material rather than metal. There are a few lumpy, discolored sections that look like they might be later patches of some kind, also ceramic, rather than the original hull, but Onn can't be sure. She, Graham and Rawlings each notice what appear to be energy-weapon emitters, one each at bow and stern, but they're of an unfamiliar technology and design. None of you see anything to suggest that you'll be risking your lives by going up in this thing.

Graham points out the apparent weapons to Rawlings and once they exchange nods they agree that's what they are he says at a suitable moment "Looks like she's likely armed, but the design's unfamiliar...Nia."

Graham tries to remember if they had learned a suitable method to contact the Portmaster...and looks around for any official looking comms equipment in the area.

Rawlings concurs with Graham.

You may try to contact the Portmaster by communicator, or there is what looks like a portable equipment stand of some kind not far from the shuttle. From past experience in other starports, you know it may have a built-in comm unit.

Booker's hesitant use of her name produces an atypically sweet smile from Nia. Then she nods her gratitude to him and Double-T for the weapons check and leads the way toward the airlock.

"Excuse me," she says to the two Uwat once her group has reached them. "My name's Nia Onn. My party and I met your First Officer back at the Black Sun, and we made arrangements for passage on board your ship." Nia makes a gesture toward the others. "Six all together, and the only belongings we have are, well, right here. Looks like we made it in time." She hesitates for a second before adding, "It was less than an hour ago, but hopefully Mr. Jol's had a chance to update you...?"

Mäkeläinen keeps a weather eye on what is happening with Nia's conversation. Any minute now they will find out if they are due for an immediate departure or more delays. He stands by to hear the Uwats' answer before worrying them with his own questions.

"I am First Officer Jol," one of the Uwat says. (They really do look a lot alike; in fact, to all but Kylah, they look absolutely identical). His voice sounds no different from before. "I have not forgotten our agreement. This is Calan, Chief of Security."

Calan nods. "I will scan you now for weapons and contraband, before you go aboard." He raises a hand scanner of alien design.

Nia's face tingles with a flush, though only for a second. Her blood's moving too slowly through her system to waste time for mere embarrassment. "Oh. My apologies for not recognizing you, Mr. Jol. My eyesight's not in great shape. Allergies," she explains with a vague shrug.

"I don't think there should be a problem with a search...?" She casts an eye to Booker. "I can tell you now, you'll find phasers on our persons. Pretty sure all of us have one." She lifts an eyebrow at Kyah. Offhand she can't picture Kylah with a weapon at all--she's hard-pressed to recall if the girl's ever even held one in Nia's presence.

"Booker, is there anything you wanna declare? What about you, Doc? Your case wouldn't have any vulnerabilities if exposed to a scan. Or, uh... mine? With my--my allergy meds?"

"Standard medicaments and supplies in my kit," says Dr. Mäkeläinen, "nothing contraband. The meds I gave you are a prescription compound."

He blinks, then glances down at his left arm. "Low-power cybernetics."

"However, Mr. Jol," he addresses that officer, "there is a slight problem with this package. I do not mean that it is contraband; I mean that we are not taking it at all. Can we get someone to collect it, before boarding? We also need to relay a message, if possible."

Kylah smiles very slightly at Dr. Mäkeläinen's smooth transition to asking about the package of evidence. The idea leaps into her head to suggest that it was something they found at The Black Sun, but she thinks better of it. In the short time she has known the doctor, she has already come to trust his judgment. He would have included that detail if it were helpful--perhaps it would be revealing too much information that could further delay departure.

So she just looks with open honesty at First Officer Jol and his crewmate. Realizing the latter is owed some recognition, she nods to him. "It is good to meet you, Mr. Calan."

Nia does a double-take when the doctor makes a very brief reference to cybernetics, and is now fairly itching to ask him for some technical details, fascinated as she is by the subject. His hand? Forearm? The whole arm? Of course she doesn't gawk; who knows, he might be sensitive about it. Admittedly, Mäkeläinen doesn't seem the type to be touchy, but you never know. The benefits of such an upgrade make this something to be desired--as far as Nia's concerned, at least; still, there could be some sensitivity related to how he lost the... body part, whichever it was. Anyway, there's time to ask during the trip.

She hears Kylah's greeting and belatedly realizes that yeah, ignoring the security guy wasn't exactly the best outreach. "Yes, indeed it is, Mr. Calan. We're very grateful that you have thorough safety precautions on the--" Nia hastily scans her mind, trying to recall the full name of the ship. "The--Empress--The Immortal Glory of the Empress--" Shit. Her head shakes in apology. "The Doregg."

"The Glorious and Immutable Legacy of the Empress Doregg," Kylah supplies helpfully without hesitation. "Or, properly, Doregg Ganiellej vu Felennek duj Legelvekkan na heid Jovel. Please forgive any mistakes in my pronunciation; I may have misheard the First Officer back at the club." She glances at both of the officers. "Though that is all I know of Uwat, it seems to be a descriptive and elegant language."

The look Lt. Onn aims at her is unreadable, and Kylah decides not to try. This is one translation she prefers to leave alone.

Graham says nothing.

Jol regards the good doctor for a long time before he says, "As you wish. For 200 Federation credits, I will arrange for delivery of the package and the message."

To Kylah he says, "Thank you. You are almost correct. Your pronunciation is quite good, for a non-Uwat."

Calan scans you all carefully. He has no objection to Dr. Mäkeläinen's cybernetic arm or medkit. His scan also detects all of your communicators, phaser-1s, Rangin's Science tricorder and the doctor's Medical tricorder. He says, sounding just like Jol, "These items are all contraband and you may not have them aboard. Please give them to me, and they will be returned to you when you disembark."

The words sink in and, unseen, Kylah's hand reaches for Velir's coat sleeve. Her fingers have been cold since giving her mittens to Lt. Onn, but now they are bloodless with alarm. She clutches the wool material and shifts her gaze to him without a word.

Is he thinking of the Sakathian mission? Kylah cannot help it; it was her first on the Yorktown--meaning her first ever in Starfleet, period--and it had nearly been scuttled when the landing party were forced to give up their weapons. Lt. Collins and balked at first, but Captain Singh had reluctantly told them to follow the Lab Director's orders.

And a day later they were fleeing for their lives with nothing but a single stolen phaser, pipes and improvised weapons when attacked by the infected, mutated Sakathians seeking flesh. Dozens lost. Lt. Fujishiro eventually dead of the injuries sustained there. Velir... changed. Kylah was fortunate in only suffering a vicious bite from a Denebian Slime Devil, but the ache from that bite has never fully vanished. Nor have the memories of the horrors she saw, along with those of the others around her that her empathic senses unwillingly endured.

"I do not like this," she says under her breath to Velir--the only one in the party who was with her on that mission. Her fear is irrational, with the odds of their needing weapons exceedingly small. But that is what the party had been assured back on the research station. All she can do is seek comfort from Velir, and then drag her gaze over to Lt. Onn and Lt. Graham, the latter of whom will undoubtedly make the call.

"Two hundred seems fair," Nia murmurs as she tilts her head from Doc M. to Jol to indicate the former should give the package to the latter. Meanwhile, she pulls out her communicator. Only makes sense for her to pay--she has no idea how much everyone else has ponied up while she was in slumberland over at the hospital. Did we even pay for the hospital? she suddenly wonders as she pulls off a mitten to better poke at the screen buttons, accessing her account.

She nearly taps the transfer button when the stipulation about the phasers comes up. Though she pauses, it doesn't really surprise her. "Um, just one sec, Mr. Jol?" If able, she tries to corral the crew a little farther away for a quick discussion. Once they're out of earshot--depending on how good Uwat hearing is--she'll say: "Doc, unless you see an issue with the package deal, hand it over to him? The price is reasonable. Pricey but that's to be expected."

She clears her throat. "The weapons confiscation's reasonable too. I wouldn't let armed strangers on my ship. And I don't wanna waste time with a negotiation. But... that's me. I want this planet to look like a dust speck in five minutes." Nia focuses steadily on Booker. "However, our top priority's the crew's safety. What do you think?"

Dr. Mäkeläinen's eyes inscrutably bore into Jol's for a good beat, in turn, but he hands over the package. "This goes back to the Port Authority offices. It's clearly marked."

He would like to relay a message to the Yorktown, of course, but with the Uwat doing the relaying themselves he cannot simply ask them to send something through to a Starfleet ship, much less supply any Starfleet authentication codes, not without blowing their cover wide open, even though he has a feeling Jol and some others already know or suspect who they are. An entirely encrypted message would not be very discreet, either. He covers by saying, "For the message, merely the time and circumstances of our departure. It was a last-minute arrangement, as you know." That way, at least there will be some trace should they... vanish. 200 Federation credits does not sound even remotely reasonable, but, at this point, he is not about to argue, even if it ends up coming out of his own pay.

He does not care at all about turning over communicators or phasers, but is a little unhappy about turning over his medical tricorder. In a real emergency, like, say, crashing on an ice world, will there be time to retrieve it from wherever it will have been stowed? However, he is a professional and knows how to work without high-tech instruments, should it ever come to that.

Graham nods to acknowledge Nia's question. He very slowly reaches to unholster his phaser.

"As the senior security officer on this mission, I fully understand the weight of your responsibility to ensure the safety of your ship and those onboard, Chief Calan. I hope you also appreciate the degree of trust we--I--would be putting in you if I hand this over."

He looks back at Nia. "I would prefer that the crew see us as assets and allies in keeping the ship and anyone on it safe." Then he turns back to Calan. "But it's your ship and I respect your decision as chief of security."

He slowly and deliberately turns the phaser operator-hand toward Calan.

With Booker having made his assessment of the situation and decided to agree, Nia can't think of a reason to argue otherwise. Following his lead, she (reluctantly) opens her coat to the cold air and carefully removes her phaser, just as he does. She looks around at the others who haven't done so yet, trying not to show her impatience but also mutely telling them to give up their phasers on the double.

Kylah feels more and more on edge. Are her own experiences weighing too heavily on her? It is like the worst moments on the Sakath station and Anubis. Do the senior officers truly not see what they are currently risking?

She puts a hand on her phaser but does not remove it. "Sir," she says quietly to Lt. Graham, forgetting the casual address--but then, she refers to every older man as "sir" so perhaps it does not matter--"Do you not think--is it not prudent for us to first get in touch with our--our friends back home? To let them know we have found transport after all?"

Uncertain if her point is obvious, she relinquishes her hold on Velir's sleeve and tugs at Lt. Graham's, then tiptoes to whisper into his ear. "We must let Mr. Vargas or someone know with whom we are traveling. If not, once we give up our weapons, we will be defenseless. And if no one knows where we are, they could kidnap us. Or do anything." She bites her lip, then continues in a rush, "We should at least tell the man back at the Port Authority before we leave."

Rangin quietly replies to Kylah, his voice tight, "I agree. But we're in kind of a bind here. We have to get offworld, and this looks like the best, and maybe the only, way to do it as soon as we need to."

Jol takes the package from Dr. Mäkeläinen and says, "Understood. It will be done." Onn transfers payment to him with her communicator.

Calan does not directly respond to Graham, but collects the party's communicators, phaser-1s and tricorders. Rawlings looks very unhappy but follows Graham's lead and complies. Calan exchanges a look with Jol and says flatly, "Starfleet gear, all of this. Interesting." He puts it in a metal box and locks it.

Jol says, "Come, let us board." He marches towards the nearby Uwat shuttle.

Kylah was nodding grim agreement with Velir when suddenly her communicator is whisked away as well as her weapon. Now she stands, numb, feeling naked yet perspiring at the same time despite the weather. Every bad thing that has happened to her has been due to a lack of her communicator. Barely a week ago she had a panic attack begging the security officer not to take the device from her after she was confined to quarters--and that was in her own cabin, on the ship, with hundreds of colleagues not very far away and the ability to access Security through her computer.

Now? With a defenseless group lightyears from any ally? With utter strangers who hate Starfleet? Velir possibly wanted for murder? And no one even knowing the ship on which they will be transported?

Her light hand on Lt. Graham's arm turns into a death grip. Every symptom of another incipient attack nearly incapacitates her. Rapid heart rate. Difficulty breathing. Dizziness. Feeling of impending death. Tremor. Chills. Narrow vision. Adrenaline racing through her demanding that she run to escape the enemy.

But what can she possibly do? As Velir said, they must get home, particularly due to Lt. Onn's situation but also since Velir may be a wanted man for all they know. Kylah is well aware that of all the crew, she is the one considered the weakest link. Throughout this mission, she has done her best to repair her reputation. Has she not maintained her professionalism despite all the mishaps? Even with the moribund Tesla, crashing on a frozen planet, much less discovering the prejudice against Starfleet and Velir's dreadful incident?

Fighting her every instinct, she remains still and gives what may pass as a calm look of agreement. If Velir's new empathic abilities are even half as sensitive as hers, he will not be fooled. Indeed, if he knows her at all, he would not be fooled. But trying despite her terror must count for something. You are a survivor, Ens. Alvarez told her last week. Maybe he was right?

In the dim possibility that he was correct, she must be rational enough to think of a way out of this. "Booker," she blurts with her gaze straight on Jol before returning to Lt. Graham. How strange to call him by his first name--she does not believe she has ever done so. The thought flashes only briefly before she continues. "The Portmaster. Do not forget what he told us. He ordered us to contact him before we leave."

Another quick look, this time at Lt. Onn--who is staring at her with a gaze Kylah still cannot read--before returning to Lt. Graham intently. She squeezes his arm once more before loosening her grip. "Indeed, he suggested he might refuse to allow a ship clearance to leave without hearing from us. Surely we ought to contact the Port Authority and let him know we are departing--and with whom?"

A whole porcupine's worth of prickles stab Nia when her scales try to emerge from their dormant state but fail. She's not surprise to feel them; she's not happy at all, other than the fact that they might be on their way soon.

Without phasers? Sure. Communicators? Why the hell would they be considered 'contraband'? Nia barely has time to comply before her device is plucked from her hand. "Wait. Why do you need--"

Then the security guy takes Dr. Mäkeläinen's tricorder and Nia's speech chokes to a stop. She stands with mouth still parted mid-sentence, watching the vital device move farther from the doc's possession. She tries to keep a poker face but this is too much even for her. After flashing a helpless look at Mäkeläinen, she transfers it next to Booker. Book. Do something. I'm out of thoughts.

As she's about to protest, Kylah speaks up, and though Nia's about to warn the girl to shut the fuck up, the idea turns out to be... not bad. Nia forgot--forgot, what the hell?!--that they absolutely need to let the Yorktown know the name of this vessel at the very least.
Turns out Kylah's point is a good one. And maybe even true; Nia has no idea what the Portmaster told them.

So, closing her mouth, Nia watches the younger woman grabbing onto Booker like a monkey clinging to a tree with something like hope. Kylah actually sounds like she knows what she's talking about. Doesn't solve Nia's issue and the importance of Mäkeläinen keeping track of her health status, but at least it puts a halt on the rapid proceedings.

Another Uwat emerges from the shuttle. Jol says something to him (her?) and hands over Dr. Mäkeläinen's package. The third Uwat takes it, leaves the docking bay and heads back down the access corridor through which you came.

Rawlings and Rangin, neither looking delighted, follow Jol towards the shuttle.

Dr. Mäkeläinen, holding on to his medkit, takes a final look around the docking bay. With all personnel cleared out, it really does look like they will launch just as soon as everyone is safely on board. He looks encouragingly at his nervous friends— he can tell every single one of them is uneasy to some degree, not the least Kylah— but he has no idea any better than they what they are walking into, nor how to read the Uwat (who seem like archetypically pragmatic space traders; Starfleet, whoever the other group is, it does not seem to matter as long as their money is good and they do not cause... complications).

He stays near Nia, still keeping an eye on her (even without a tricorder) and ready to tend to her should she need it. Addressing also the nearby Kylah and Booker, he explains, "That package should be drawing some attention at the Port Authority in about an hour, and I made sure it was traceable back to us, including our exact outbound flight. Best I could do under the circumstances, but they'll know where we are."

Nia's eyes search the doctor's expression as she tries to gauge if he's telling the truth or placating her. It's his life too, she thinks, as rationally as she can. Hardly in his interest to falsely claim he's given their info to the Port Authority. She flicks a look at Booker. It strikes her that she's now equally dependent on him and Mäkeläinen. She hates that. She hates being needy or frail or weak or so utterly, nakedly vulnerable.

"Satisfactory," she says, her quick nod relying on both her genuine gratitude and the sputtering engine of her confidence. "Very satisfactory, Doc. Good man in a pinch." With a smile, she turns on her heel to follow Rawlings and Rangin's lead. I should be leading. They shouldn't've had to take the dive first. Her fingers tighten into fur-covered fists.

...Which is when it occurs to her that she's not carrying the medication case. Her head swivels back and, with a stab of intense relief, she spots the case on the ground, where she was standing. Of course--she'd had to place it down when she paid for the messenger, right before they were scanned. Nia grabs the handle like the life preserver it very literally is, avoiding looking at anyone, especially Mäkeläinen who must think her a ditz. Once again she heads to the Doregg. But her pace slows slightly when she considers what she just recalled. I put it down before we were scanned.

Casually she moves her arm slightly so the case is hidden in the folds of her fur coat. Then her step quickens, heading toward the hatch without further hesitation even as more questions blink silently in her mind like a yellow alert.

She can't remember if the Uwat officer saw the case. Did he? What if he hasn't scanned it yet? What if he does and decides the drugs are contraband too?

What if someone takes it?

With Velir and Ens. Rawlings having boarded, Kylah is now equally as anxious for them being alone on the ship as she is wary of joining them. Her suggestion to speak with the Port Authority administrator will take too long, and things are moving so quickly*--Lt. Onn has just left too, with the Doctor keeping close watch on her--for Kylah to delay.

She still feels dizzy from the unexpected stab of fear that she sensed from the older woman after Lt. Onn left a second time, having returned briefly to retrieve the small medicine case. Kylah does not know why Lt. Onn had such a reaction after getting her medication safely, more so than when she appeared to have forgotten it. Yet her head was held high and her stride was sure.

"I could not do what she does," Kylah says softly. "I will never be that kind of officer. Or person." With a minuscule shake of her head, she looks up at Lt. Graham. "I suppose there is no choice now but to board. I am sorry, I should have spoken sooner. I hope--"

She cuts off and clasps her hands together tightly, as if trying to crush her fears into oblivion. Nothing will happen. The man beside her is capable of protecting their party if something should occur--and what threat really exists? It is a small ship. Lt. Graham's presentation of strong, quietly constrained lethality will be a deterrent even if there were anything to fear, as will Mr. Rawlings's... well, Mr. Rawlings.

Dr. Mäkeläinen is--she does not know how to put it in words: He seems to plan for many contingencies. He thinks several steps ahead. If it were not considered a pejorative by many human cultures, she would almost call him crafty, yet that does not suit him either. Of course she hardly knows him, but these are not merely empathic impressions. She has witnessed his abilities in the short time they have served together.

As for Lt. Onn and Velir... their conditions are concerning, extremely so, but Kylah trusts them both.

"I am sure we will be fine," she finishes with an exhale. "We are going home." Swallowing, she starts off to the Doregg--not striding, like Lt. Onn. But moving forward.




* What? They totally are... in game-time!

With a steady hand, Bizhi helps Nia climb up and through the airlock hatch. That is it— once they are safely on board, he is prepared to order her to get some rest, should it come to that. Resting in their cabins is consistent with keeping a low profile, in any case. He himself could use a "watch below", but first he will see her safely through any remaining formalities.

He looks back at the rest of their comrades still outside. Kylah, looking even more nervous than usual, is coming up with Booker. None of them have any formal duties as passengers on board an alien ship, but, when he gets a chance, he would like to ask especially the security men if they have any specific instructions beyond sticking together as much as possible and remaining vigilant. They are in for a ride of three or four days and will have to organize themselves, individually or collectively, into some sort of routine and ways of spending the time. He would like a look around the Doregg after things are settled.

Calan did see and scan Onn's medicine case, and raised no objection to it.

You all board the shuttle which is to take you up to the Doregg, in orbit of this frozen world. There are lumpy, scuffed acceleration couches, nearly horizontal, in the low-ceilinged main compartment. Although clearly not designed for humanoids, they look like they will serve well enough. Jol and Calan take to couches at the bow, near the forward viewscreen. Jol begins what is apparently a preflight check on a flexible, strangely-contoured control panel that he pulls close to himself. After a few minutes, the third Uwat returns, empty-handed, closing and sealing the airlock door before lying down on another couch.

"Shuttle ready," Jol announces. "Stand by. Fourteen seconds to liftoff."

Nia, hoping her luck might be changing but not placing any bets, tries to catch whatever glimpse of the shuttle's tech she can. She also takes a quick visual scan of her crewmates, cautiously ensuring they're all secured on the couches. (Which she finds a bizarre way to travel though she's not in a position to be fussy.) It does make her curious about what the accommodations will be like on the actual ship.

The shuttle is unfamiliar, of course, but the sort of Elasian vessels Kylah and her family flies or sails upon always offer plush settees or other types of lounging furnishings like this--although of far higher quality and comfort. She takes it in stride and moves without hesitation beside Velir... or as close as the arrangements allow; if she can be right next to him, she will.

She gives him an encouraging look, then offers the same to the rest of their party. They are on board and without any apparent unpleasantness having occurred, Kylah can exhale more fully and perhaps even enjoy the ride up to the Doregg.

Mäkeläinen considers the acceleration couches (as he makes to strap himself to one). The Uwat's lack of a circulatory system should make them much more resistant to g-forces than humanoids. Their relatively large size compared to small insects would, on the other hand, limit the mechanical stress their bodies can absorb. It is very far from a linear relationship... Velir could probably tell him more about it. Acceleration resistance or not, the couches' presence appears to indicate a different design philosophy than Starfleet's reliance on an intricate system of inertial dampeners, so he tries to make sure everything is attached securely despite the unfamiliar equipment. If anyone is having trouble, he will help them, verbally if possible since with the final countdown down to a few seconds he, too, needs to hold on. He looks over at Velir, and an obviously affectionate Kylah keeping close to him. Then back to Nia, and the rest of the party.

Onn notices odd ducting and what appear to be electronics clusters along the ceiling, and several misshapen mechanical nodes built at irregular intervals into the bulkheads. It is unfamiliar tech to her but looks, she thinks, to be a bit less advanced than the Federation's.

Everyone quickly gets settled on the acceleration couches. Kylah grabs one next to Rangin's, although they are just out of reach of each other. Dr. Mäkeläinen is able to help Onn get settled.

Jol looks around, sees that everyone is in place, and counts down to liftoff. In complete silence other than the wind rushing by outside, the shuttle emerges from the shadowy docking bay into the bright winter glare of Ollos's star. The acceleration pushes you down deep into the couches; none of you can feel any inertial dampening at all. Rawlings remembers, with chagrin, his high-gee training at Starfleet Academy. Graham guesses you're pulling at least four, maybe five gees, and it seems to be increasing. Through the forward viewscreen, you can now see clouds parting ahead.

After a few seconds, Onn passes out.

Kylah cannot think clearly enough to recall how much force she withstood during training, or even to calculate how heavy she feels, but it seems a miracle she is not being forced through the seat behind her. Have they any experience in safely transporting humanoids before? Did anyone ask?

Her head is pressed against the cushion in the wrong direction--to Kylah, the 'right' direction would be toward Velir, of course--but, she remembers, she does not need to see Velir to communicate with him. After a brief hesitation during which she debates whether he will realize that normally psi-capable users must initiate contact, she decides Velir is still too new to his abilities to understand how they work.

Velir, can you hear me? Are you all right?

On the positive side, she is able to see Dr. Mäkeläinen. Kylah focuses on him, hoping he knows what they should--or can--do.

Dr. Mäkeläinen is busy feeling his very eyeballs pressing down into his skull and an elephant sitting on his chest, all of his limbs turned to lead. But the acceleration is not— yet— dangerous, lying back on the specially designed couches.

[I am not positive whether he can tell that Onn is passed out---I suppose that if he makes the physical effort to turn his head and look at her, he may be able to tell based on her muscle tone that she is unconscious versus merely with her eyes closed. However:]

He knows he cannot get up; maybe he could make an effort to get loose and move, risking rolling off the couch and crashing to the floor, but trying to stand up at four, five gees or more risks passing out from blood pooling in the lower extremities. Certainly it would be impossible to carry out normal activities.

He is not a shuttle pilot, but having been a shuttle passenger he knows that the engines cut off... ten minutes from launch? That order of magnitude, anyway. So he could wait until then to do something, make sure Nia is all right. Throttling down the engines prematurely could have unfortunate consequences, like the trajectory of this flying brick intersecting the surface of the planet. But the pilot may be able to reduce the acceleration and adjust their course to compensate? At least for a minute? What Bizhi can do is tense his muscles to grunt out the words, "One of us is having issues with the acceleration! I should check on her! Please, can we slow down as soon as it's safe? Tell me when it's OK to stand."

Kylah hears a very tentative psi reply from Rangin: Kylah? Yes, I can hear you, just barely. I'm uncomfortable but doing OK. How about you?

Jol answers Dr. Mäkeläinen, his raspy voice unchanged through the vocoder although he is speaking more slowly, "Acceleration will stop when we have reached escape velocity. Another few minutes."

Graham manages little more than nods, grunts, and glances as they give up their gear.

A real Kobayashi Maru moment, he thinks - feeling he certainly owes Ens. Kylah an explanation later that he's as unhappy as anyone about the situation but...missing this ride at this moment may mean Nia's a good as dead.

His level of concern rises when Nia passes out - and there's no fucking way he or the doc is moving under this pressure.

It's not totally unexpected anyone would pass out...except she's a killer pilot....

Velir's soft voice eases Kylah's fears somewhat, although the increasing agitation from the others in the craft has the opposite effect. She remains focused on him. I feel like something massive is crushing me. When she still cannot move her head, she searches the others visible to her. The doctor says someone is in trouble. Lt. Onn or Mr. Rawlings, I think. I cannot see either.

She is grateful for Mr. Jol's reassurance, such as it is, as far as how long they must endure this. They will have to discuss whatever they are to expect on the actual ship. Will there be artificial gravity?

Mäkeläinen can do nothing but hold on grimly and wait for the acceleration to cut out. There may be further engine burns later, but at least he should have a window of time to move around and work. A few minutes of unconsciousness should not result in any damage... normally.

The minutes seem to crawl by, but eventually the sky ahead turns to black and the shuttle's acceleration ends. The oppressive weight lifts at once from your chests and limbs, and you indeed find yourselves in zero gravity.

Kylah notices two orbiting ships ahead through the viewscreen, then a third. She can just see the glowing curve of Ollos itself off to starboard.

Immeasurably grateful to be able to breathe freely again, much less move, Kylah releases her grip on the cushion and finds herself floating a few inches into the air. She turns to Velir, smiles, then stares at the view ahead. "Which ship is yours, sir?" she asks First Officer Jol, too relieved to even remember her other crewmates.

"Too far off to see just yet," the Uwat replies. "Soon."

Dr. Mäkeläinen unfastens himself as soon as the engines cease roaring and pushes off the acceleration couch. No inertial dampeners also means no artificial gravity, it seems. "Just give me a monition if things are about to get bumpy," he asks the Uwat.

He manoeuvres over to the motionless Nia and checks her vital signs. A tricorder would make this automatic and instant, but he knows what to do. He estimates her temperature, pulse, and respiration rate by hand. He checks for motor response and shines a light into her pupils (the one built into his left forearm again proving its utility). If she seems stable, he will fetch his medical kit and administer Nia's dose of Lexorin along with a half-dose of the mildest stimulant he has on hand.

Graham leans forward, watching the doctor attend to Nia.

He resists getting up - since there's basically nothing I can do and that's one more body banging around if things get bumpy suddenly - but it's not easy to rush to Nia's side.

"Doc, how is she?" he asks, keeping his voice calm, trying not to rush the doctor's work.

Jol says, "Yes, I will announce the return of gravity, of course." He checks an ovoid gauge. "In just over six minutes."

Onn is unconscious but does not seem in distress. Her vital signs are stable if relatively weak. She responds well to the hypospray Dr. Mäkeläinen gives her, and in a few seconds her eyelids flutter open.

Cold, Nia shudders even beneath her fur coat, but the movement seems to wake her up--at least, from her perspective. The first thing she sees is Booker's face, lying near her, and while blurry--everything is, this morning--it's a welcome, familiar sight. He usually wakes up before she does, in her warm bed, and the moments before they get up for duty are some of the most delicious, langorous time they spend. They may not be lovers yet, but there's love of a different kind enfolding them together along with her blanket.

A sense of intimacy tugging her soul to his like a soft ribbon brings a gentle, tilting smile to her lips. "Hey hon," she murmurs lazily, and starts to shift her right arm to let her fingertips caress the bristle on his chin...

But she can't because her arm's not moving--it's way too heavy to lift. And Booker's not in her bed. For that matter, neither is she.

Abruptly her mind adjusts to time, place and situation--all of which are very different from her pleasant little fantasy. Her gaze shoots from the bizarre couches to the grotty ship interior to, most of all, Dr. Mäkeläinen hovering over her with some concern but--fortunately--nothing dire that she can see.

"What's happened," she asks, voice still no louder than a whisper. Nia girds herself and tries again with more success. "What's going on. Where are we?" Nia tries to find the rest of the crew, but she's too weak to do much physical leaning yet.

So she again looks at Booker, eyes a mixture of embarrassment at how she'd addressed him earlier, and concern for whatever the hell she's missed while the crew soldiered on without her useless presence. "Status report, now."

Dr. Mäkeläinen marks the moment Nia's eyes snap into focus. He pushes back in zero-G to give her some space. In response to Booker's query, he gives the former a quick thumbs-up. He gives Booker the opportunity to answer her while he efficiently clears away used hypo vials and his other kit before anything has a chance to float away.

Graham holds up a hand in a calming gesture. "Heavy gees on the way up. It's OK, we're still on way to the ship...you just blacked out...for a moment," he adds quickly.

Gaze shifting from one man to the next, waiting for them to help Lt. Onn, Kylah remains still, one hand holding onto the nearest piece of fixed furniture.

But from the searching gaze Lt. Onn sends Lt. Graham, then the Doctor and back to Graham, Kylah senses the others are not telling the Lieutenant much. Or rather, not what she needs to know... at least that is what Kylah guesses, not from empathy but pure sympathy in recognizing the Sidonian's trapped-animal stare.

She lowers her voice and leans slightly forward. "We are on a shuttle, leaving Ollos. The Uwat shuttle, taking us to their ship. The Doregg." She licks her lips to moisten them and then murmurs, "They have no inertial dampers and we were all affected by the gravity during takeoff." Perhaps Lt. Onn will feel better if she believes others were in distress too. At least, it cannot hurt. Which is more than she can say for most lies.

"And now we are heading to the Doregg, which will take us home. The Yorktown--or as near as we can get to it. Everyone is fine now, ma'am. Yourself included. Do not be distressed." She tries a helpful smile, which she shares with the others encouragingly. "We are all safe. Is that not so?"

Rawlings says, "Sure seems so. We were all surprised by the heavy gees on our way up, ma'am. But I think - I hope - the worst is behind us now."

Rangin nods, smiling at Onn encouragingly. "We're in orbital space now. Should be just a few minutes more to get to the Uwat starship, and then we'll be on our way home."

Arms bracing herself, Nia listens to the crew reassuring her. That's her job, not theirs. But she feels like a child, an overprotected child--not that she experienced that sort of background but she knows they exist. The product of one of those backgrounds is staring at her now. The pretty princess speaking of home, backed up by knights errant.

A flash of memory strikes her. From a vid, an ancient tale. One of Andy's bizarre choices to indoctrinate her to Earth culture. The memory is sepia-toned. That pretty girl on a bed.

But I did leave you. That's just the trouble. And I tried to get back for days and days… but it wasn't a dream. It was a place. And you, and you, and you… and you were there...

She shakes her head, freeing it of the memory of the girl and her little dog, too. "Likely I won't be seeing home again. But I get it. Thanks." She turns to search for the Uwat. "Thanks for taking us. What's the ETA on boarding and then leaving the system?" Squinting, she tries to get a look at the viewscreens but her sight's still a little blurry. "There was a lot of traffic in the area when we arrived. Everything clearer now?"

Slowly she gets into a more dignified seated position. Nia doesn't want to bring this up in front of the others, but... after hearing the reports from Booker and Rawlings, she kinda has to. "Heavy gees. I've dealt with them since I was a kid half her height." Her chin nods at Kylah. "I shouldn't get knocked out by a little launch to orbit jaunt. With my protection I--"

Nia pauses, again staring at them. She realizes how reckless she's being. How hard would it be for them to overhear her various biological traits, plonk them onto the net only for Sidonian to pop up? One Sidonian, and she's in Starfleet.

Why the hell didn't she think of this problem before? Thinking fast, she focuses on the Doc. "Actually, let's talk about it later," she says with a flicker of a glance to Jol and back. Her voice softens--although if the Uwat are like any other insectoids she's known, their hearing will be keen.

She words it carefully. "Things can wait. Details, anyway. They bore me." Her near whisper and proximity to the doctor make her concerned that they look suspicious, so she changes tactics. With a slow smile she arches--not easy to do, but she manages--and lifts a hand up to the Doc's collar, drawing him closer. Her eyes try to apologize while she adds playfully, "You know how... unique I am. Isn't it more fun for you to keep things just between you and me?"

Leaning up toward his ear, she whispers: "No more bio talk. They find out what I am, they'll learn who I am. And they might know already but if there's others onboard... we can't blow cover in front of anyone else."

Her hand moves up, brushes some hair near his temple, and then languidly drops. She lets her muscles relax so she can fall against the cushioned couch back. "Sorry, Doc," she says, tone still amused but gaze sincere. "Sometimes I get impulses. Thought I'd better act sooner than later, right?"

Bizhi thinks casual talk of "home" and the Yorktown is likely to blow their cover to the casual eavesdropper a hell of a lot faster than any "bio talk". They never did confer and come up with a cover story— are they traders? Explorers? Anything military is probably too close to the truth, and what would mercenaries be doing in a place like Ollos? They might be pirates. That sounds like fun, and would account for their reluctance to reveal too many details about themselves. Or bounty hunters, taking down wanted criminals and bad guys, not innocent spacers.

Up close, Nia's currently wild eyes do look very attractive. (She still looks like someone on the verge of passing out, though, her body missing much of its vitality.) "After a couple of days on that greezy outpost, I can't blame you," he replies to her. "Soon as we get our berths, we should get together for a little colloquium."

A few minutes later, Jol says, "Couches, please. Thrust to return shortly." He talks to his two shipmates in a guttural language Kylah is sure he hasn't used before.

You can all see, up ahead through the viewscreen, a dense cluster of ships high above Ollos.

Not having moved very far from her seat, Kylah has returned to her couch in time to hear the unfamiliar language.

She supposes there is a distant possibility that this is some extreme regional variant or accent, but she has never heard any one language with such dissimilar phonetics. If she were at her comms panel she would have liked to see if there are any common sounds at all. If they were traveling on the Tesla, this would have been a good opportunity to test that significantly upgraded comm panel's abilities in that regard.

But the panel is dead, at least temporarily. I hope it is not the only such unit. It would be a shame to have destroyed the prototype. Surely Cmdr. Cheverez would not have allowed the shuttle out if there were any unique systems? Kylah scowls, remembering the order from the Yorktown to secure the shuttle for recovery. A strange request for a party of six with no known allies on the planet. Perhaps the shuttle really did have something unusual about it.

It suddenly strikes her that this is first time since the crash that she has really considered the loss of the shuttle itself; she has, for obvious reasons, focused on the crew's trevails. But the Tesla was a seventh crew member, so to speak. True, in the end it is just a vehicle, mere machinery. But Kylah glances at Lt. Onn, newly conscious of just how keenly a pilot who had actually worked on the shuttle must be mourning.

Sighing, Kylah returns to focus on Mr. Jol. The change of language makes her curious, and--anxious to think of something other than sorrow--bends her (highly flexible) rule about using her empathic abilities only when necessary. Though she stares at the viewscreen, since she is genuinely curious about what the Doregg will look like, she begins taking a measure of what Mr. Jol and the other Uwat are feeling.

Nia straps in. Jol never answered her question and that... well, it bugs her. She smiles slightly at the unintended pun, though trying to figure out why the first officer's behavior is concerning. 'Cause you're turning into a neurotic mess. Knock it off. After boosting her resolve, she turns her head to look at her crewmates, instinctively checking that they're safe and in place even though she's not the one at the helm.

When her gaze falls on Rangin, she purses her lips. She's really let him down, support-wise. Where's that instinctive protectiveness been? Withheld, thanks to her poorly controlled resentment over the added danger his situation has imposed upon them. But what was he supposed to do? Big guy threatens little guy; little guy either runs or fights for his life.

Acknowledging Rangin with a nod, she offers a tiny, rueful smile. "Rough couple of days, huh?" she asks in a miracle of understatement. "Doing okay?"

Kylah finds the Uwat hard to read - their brain structure and mental processes are very different from the humanoid races with which she is better acquainted, and whose thoughts she is more accustomed to sensing. But she has a general psi impression that these three are calm, focused and task-oriented.

Rangin returns Onn's rueful smile. "You could say that, yeah. I'm okay, all in all, but I have to admit I'm not going to be sorry to see Ollos well behind us."

Among the ships ahead, Onn, Graham and Rawlings can now recognize the transport Astral Queen, bulbous and well-worn; the fast packet Fevre Dream, which appears to be in motion even while standing still; the freighter Four Little Diamonds, hulking and badly-stained about its drive section, and what must be the Doregg. The Uwat starship is also by no means new, and is dark red and light gray, but as spindly as her shuttle is squat. There are another four or five ships that are unfamiliar to you all.

Jol touches the controls, activating thrusters, and a slight sense of gravity returns. The Doregg grows larger ahead.

After a quick look around at what everyone is up to, Dr. Mäkeläinen gets back to his own couch and watches the viewscreen. He does not immediately join in the small talk. (Nia is still talking to Lt. Rangin, but after that he may ask her if she recognizes any of the types of ships.) He is still ready for anything, but with so many unknowns on this mission it is more a matter of figuring things out as they come than being able to plan anything. Assuming he and his colleagues safely make it on board, they should have another conference about how they are going to conduct themselves for the duration, and then his "bio talk" with Nia will be to more or less insist she get some rest. Though he knows he himself will find it irresistible to poke around the new surroundings.

Pleased by the overall benign professional impression she senses from the Uwat, Kylah lets her mind clear itself of any psi 'residue' from having worked a little harder to analyze such challenging subjects. She is glad to hear Lt. Onn taking the time to address Velir, and when they are done she gives him a small, encouraging smile. She closes her eyes for a moment before turning to Dr. Mäkeläinen, wondering how to address him about the mission.

"I am sorry your vacation was not very relaxing," she says. "It was lively, from what I hear, but probably not as you had hoped. To be honest, I have fared the same on my trips. It is, perhaps, the nature of them."

Graham notices Nia leaning in close to speak to the doctor, which is probably about what's going on with her medically, or...not...

She could do a lot, lot worse - Rangin's sitting right here after all.

And a new romantic interest would be...good? Maybe?

He feels a brief roiling tempest of emotions.

Nia never said you broke her heart, Booker. But she never would, would she? You're not so thick you didn't know that.

Your penance for Jane is to lose Nia...in order to be re-united with your first love.

You've no right to complain, but...but what might have been?

Nia's attention is first attracted by the Fevre Dream. A little thrill of acquisitive appreciation runs through her. Beautiful and probably one fast mother. The Doregg doesn't look great in comparison, but she and her crewmates aren't in need of a luxury ride. Seems sturdy enough and hopefully flies steady.

Her gaze shifts. Oh damn it. Four Little Diamonds. Nia grimaces at the name and ship, then takes a quick glance at Rangin, hoping he either hasn't seen it or hasn't noticed. Might ruin his semi-decent spirits. Although he's actually a pretty resilient guy.

As if she made the observation aloud, she looks almost apologetically at Booker. She catches herself at the old habit. Apologizing for what? For complimenting someone he hates? Mentally?

She clears her throat and, keeping her tone low, says casually, "That freighter's one ugly piece of scrap. Maybe jetsam from some better-looking ship." With a sigh, she leans back again, murmuring--this time aimed at Booker--"I was hoping they'd've packed up and got the hell outta here already."

Bizhi listens to whatever Nia has to say about the various vessels in sight. "I assume you know your ships. Sleek lines and a fancy paint job do not necessarily mean much in hard vacuum, though, I imagine. Perhaps it says more about the skipper, or their culture. I have heard tell of spacecraft that look almost biological. Could be they find the look of every one of the ships here... unsettling, by comparison."

Rangin smiles back at Kylah, then closes his eyes. To Onn, he appears not to have noticed the Four Little Diamonds.

Jol says, "Zero gravity again. Standby." He works the controls. You are weightless once more. The shuttle is now on final approach to the Doregg. He says, "Docking in three minutes." He talks to his shipmates again in this second language.

You all have very good views of the other ships as the shuttle passes through the orbiting group.

Nia arches an amused eyebrow at Mäkeläinen's light... what, rebuke? She's not sure it even reaches that level of mild contradiction. Still, she lets herself smile even though her attention's riveted to the Four Little Diamonds.

"Now Doc, I hope you don't think my mind's so loopy that I think a ship's looks mean anything out here." She lifts her palm and waves vaguely to indicate the viewscreen--vaguer than usual because her muscles feel a little rubbery and not entirely under her control. Normally, she's not affected by such incremental gravity adjustments, but if she's learning anything, it's that this situation isn't her normal.

"But," Nia continues lazily, "That's a packet ship, taking things from here to there. Sometimes system to system. And their customers don't pay them for leisurely romps. Faster they go, more credits or whatever they make. And I've seen that line before; they're known to push limits." She shakes her head infinitesimally. It'd be nice to push limits again.

"Matter of fact, some of them enter atmospheres to deliver the goods, and design becomes relevant. Shape matters. So I've been told," she adds with a sleepy little sidelong glance at Double-T.

Sleepy? She does feel tired. "Regardless, even a hardened pilot likes to look at something pretty once in a while. And that"--her wavering finger points somewhere in the direction of the Fevre Dream--"Is one helluva gorgeous ride. As I've also been--"

Oh. No no no no. Nia clamps her mouth shut in a rare moment of abashment at a double-entendre. What the hell, is she drunk? Probably. Not literally drunk, not only because she's had nothing alcoholic to drink, but also because she physically can't get drunk. But Hyperbilitria will mimic the effects.

She finishes with a murmured, "Well. You get the point." Swallowing, she returns her focus to alternating between the Four Little Diamonds and the Doregg.

The return of the zero gravity atmosphere is pleasing, as usual, but Kylah has a slightly furrowed brow that also wrinkles her nose. A curious sense of discomfort has arisen. Or perhaps she is more able to pay attention, as the shuttle is quiet and no one is doing much of anything. Is it one of her crewmates? She glances casually at the lot, but cannot see anyone who looks particularly distressed. Not even Velir, whose face in repose makes Kylah's heart swell with tenderness.

Is it her own discomfort? Kylah almost laughs at the reminder--far from unique in her life--that she identifies others' emotions before her own. After some seconds she decides that yes, it is indeed her own anxiety thrumming at a low level. It is like the feel of the Yorktown's deck beneath her bare feet. With shoes, she does not notice any vibration or movement. Barefoot, her skin's sensitivity is more than enough to remind her that they are on board a huge machine with countless moving or otherwise active parts.

It is simply because we are almost there, she decides, facing the viewscreen again to view the Doregg. Folding her hands neatly on her lap, she breathes deeply to relax.

Rawlings smiles knowingly at Onn's joke. "Have you indeed, Lieutenant?" he jokes.

The shuttle draws closer still to the Doregg, which does not get any prettier as you approach. Jol slows the shuttle down further with a few taps at the thrusters. When you're just a few hundred meters away, a pair of matching hatches open on the aft ventral surface of the Uwat ship. With an occasional word muttered to his shipmates, both on the shuttle and aboard the starship via subspace radio, Jol guides the shuttle into a relatively small shuttlebay - there appear to be only a few meters to spare in each direction as the shuttle glides in. It is a much tighter fit than for Class-F shuttles entering the Yorktown's far more capacious shuttlebay.

Bizhi does not mind risqué comments. But is Nia discomfited by her own words? That seems to be more Kylah's style. He would not tease anyone who was actually embarrassed, but, in any case, Rawlings defuses things, so he allows himself a little smile along with the joke. He is still not one-hundred-percent clear on the exact past and present dynamics between everyone, but Onn and Rawlings? Does not escape him.

"Ugly ship or not ugly ship, that was some smooth manual docking. At least we are in good hands as far as piloting and astrogation."

"Yes, well executed indeed, Mr. Jol... and, uh, your crew," Nia says, a little claustrophobic in such a small bay but also feeling oddly envious. Such dull, unflashy little ships and their utilitarian spaces--and the need for both skill and a little artistry to handle them--remind her of her earliest days post-Academy, and even farther back to her father's hangars. She's extremely grateful for and honored to be behind the helm of the Yorktown, but rising up to challenges and less-than-optimal circumstances is what she was trained for. Bred for, really.

She sinks back and waits for the docking to complete. Last time you had a challenge was the Tesla. You'll be lucky to get your ass back home and in your bunk attached to a Bilitrium tank, much less a seat at the conn any time soon.

Graham just grunts lightly at Nia's comment as he glances at Four Little Diamonds.

One stone could have killed more birds than he could count if, contrary to the local allergy to the Federation the ship's crew had filed an urgent criminal complaint that had brought a Federation ship to investigate...but no such luck.

Entering the safety of the shuttlebay, Kylah exhales, very relieved to have the Four Little Diamonds behind them, literally and figuratively speaking. Perhaps not entirely, she admits, looking back at Velir. Her only experience of killing someone was on her first mission, and it still flickers around the edges of her consciousness some nights.

She has had other nightmarish experiences--both older and more recent--but on that research station, Kylah harmed, ended, a life. Directly. In self-defense, and it was someone no longer thinking like a sapient being. But they were alive, and then Kylah pressed a button on her phaser and they were dead.

Even if Velir has killed someone before, this is a unique situation, as each death must be. It is unlikely a compassionate man will forget it so quickly.

She closes her eyes to gain a more calm demeanor--touching him has new meaning, with his unpredictable abilities, and she does not wish him to sense her disquiet--and, under the guise of waking him up (she does not think he is actually napping)--reaches to touch his wrist. "Velir? We are on the Doregg." She slips her fingers between his, grasps them so he can feel her warmth, and reluctantly lets go.

The shuttle settles into the docking bay with a noticeable jolt and a muffled thud. The bay's exterior doors can be seen swinging shut on a video monitor beside Jol's pilot station. In seconds, they are closed. "Docking complete," he says, shutting down his controls. The cabin lights get a little dimmer. "Stand by to disembark."

"Yes, thanks," Rangin says, taking Kylah's hand and squeezing back. He smiles wearily at her.

Nia's looking forward to getting out of here, but takes a moment to gird herself before unfastening the safety strap and sitting up. After a deep breath, she slowly pushes herself to her feet--this time remembering to take the medication case with her. She's a little dizzy but it's hardly incapacitating, so she smiles a little in relief. She looks at Mäkeläinen and nods, a general indication that she's okay.

Sending her tired smile from the Doc to Booker, then to Rangin and the others, she lifts her chin in what's hopefully a confident gesture. "Well, on to the next leg of our trip."

Velir's smile never ceases to create a little bubbly lightness in Kylah's heart. She undoes her safety strap and, seeing Lt. Onn on her feet, does the same. The Sidonian woman's appearance is somewhat encouraging, and her expression certainly indicates she is trying to get back to normal. Kylah glances at Dr. Mäkeläinen to see if he seems just as encouraged.

Still, as she looks forward to seeing whatever is visible of the Doregg itself, she is displeased by the lightness of her duty belt. The surrendered phaser is less worrisome to her than the communicator. Its physical weight is negligible but the weight of Kylah's reliance on it for a sense of comfort cannot be measured.

Automatically she turns to Lt. Graham, who likely feels the same way about his phaser, although he is very capable without a weapon. "You must be particularly relieved to be done with this vacation. So much awaits you back home, perhaps more than in past--in past trips." To Dr. Mäkeläinen, she remarks, "I would imagine a look at this ship's medical facilities should be fascinating. With such differences in anatomy." Her hand gently indicates the Uwat officers while she turns to include Velir, who as a xenobiologist might find this intriguing as well.

She addresses Mr. Jol and the others politely. "Once we leave the shuttle, might you have the opportunity to introduce me to your communications officer, please, if possible? As long as they are not too busy, of course." Kylah shifts slightly with an anticipatory glance at the hatch.

Dr. Mäkeläinen is definitely pleased to be arrived somewhere else. It gives him a small burst of energy, and he assumes the same is true for his companions.

Looking at the hatch, Dr. Mäkeläinen has a fleeting thought: an enclosed space, like a small ship, can be an incubator for any virus they may have picked up on the planet. Such pathogens are eventually scrubbed from the atmosphere by the life-support biofilters, but there is always a possibility, especially if someone has a weakened immune system....

He is pondering this when Kylah surprises him with an insightful question about the ship's medical facilities. "Yes, quite," he replies, turning to her. "Probably also be some clever tech we haven't seen before." And, even if they are not well stocked with medication specifically for humanoids, he has plenty in his medical kit to stabilize a patient, in case of emergency, until he or she can be brought to a more comprehensive facility. A situation Nia is already in---they just have to hope for no further detours.

Graham has a moment of nerves as Nia stands, worrying she might fall given her condition - and also knowing that lurching forward on the assumption she might fall would be the last thing she probably wanted.

"There's a lot of reasons to want to be back home," Graham replies to Kylah, glancing from the Elasian to Nia and back.

Jol replies to Kylah, "We don't have a communications officer, as such, but that is my responsibility."

He says something to his two shipmates in the same guttural language as before. They briefly reply in kind and pass through the exterior hatch, which you can see opens into a small, blue-lit airlock. They cycle through, and the hatch opens again. Jol says, "I think you could pass through perhaps three at a time. Please proceed."

"Right, thanks," Nia says, glancing behind her. "Um... Book, I bet you're interested in being in getting the first look. Maybe you, me and Dr. M. can go first? I think--Double-T and the others can follow." She eyes Booker, uncertain. She doesn't want Rangin to go first, if this is all some bizarrely elaborate ruse to bring him to justice--a thought that makes her seriously consider just how crazy and paranoid the hypobilitria is making her.

"You decide," she says softly to Booker, not happy to defer such a decision, but like it or not, she's neither an expert in such things nor, frankly, certain of her decision-making abilities. "Please." She glances at the Doc too, letting him know silently that she's feeling a little overwhelmed.

Graham nods at Nia's words. "You, me, the doctor first, Mr. Rangin and Mr. Kylah next, and Mr. Rawlings--let's not push our luck on three people fitting--last."

"Sounds good," says the Doctor. He is eager to get a look as well (out of plain curiosity), and he is happy to leave the airlock order up to those with real-life security experience. On the other hand... "Everything looks good, but, hypothetically speaking, if there were anything agley waiting for us---" he has noticed a tense Nia casting uncertain glances at Booker--- "this is no tactical situation. We would have to talk our way out. Which shouldn't be a problem," he continues reassuringly. "While our clients' business, naturally, remains confidential, we are nought but serendipitous passengers here and have nothing to hide."

He is truly not particularly worried about the situation (yet, anyway) and does not expect anything on the other side of the airlock besides bulkheads, structurally-expressionist-looking equipment, and a couple of officers to meet them, but as usual he will keep an eye out for anything fishy.

Onn, Graham and Dr. Mäkeläinen pass through the airlock. On the other side is an Uwat - you can't tell if it's one of those who were aboard the shuttle with you - standing in a compartment about twice the size of the airlock. The room looks much as the interior of the shuttle did, with odd ducting above and uneven bulkheads intermittently covered with metal boxes, nodes and tech. "Go up, please," the Uwat says in heavily-accented Federation Standard, gesturing towards a ladder of sorts, which rises from the deck through what appear to be, from the bottom, two levels above.

Kylah, a little nervous but more anticipatory than afraid, looks at Velir happily and then, hearing the doctor, comments, "Agley. What an unusual word. I must say it is a delight to hear Dr. Mäkeläinen speak. He tickles my memory of studying the classic older dialects and languages of ancient Earth. The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, gang aft agley," she recites in a quite passable Scots accent. More soberly, she adds, "I suppose that describes much of this trip. Hopefully not the end of it."

Staring up the length of the ladder, Nia finds the prospect of climbing it daunting, to say the least. A normal, healthy Sidonian is catlike when it comes to scaling various obstacles. Right now she couldn't feel more of a lummox.

She bites at her lower lip and grasps the handholds if there are any and takes her first step up. In other circumstances, Nia'd be happy to precede Booker up a ladder, giving him a good view of what many consider her best asset. But she's more concerned about her arms. All she needs is for her rubbery muscles to give out and send her toppling to knock over both men below.

So Nia turns to Booker with a question that's more loaded than she intended. "You're the closest thing I've got to a safety net. I can trust you, right?"

Graham freezes, stares, then swallows in response to Onn's question.

"I've got your back." Brief pause. "Nia. Always," he replies.

The décor and welcoming committee are what Bizhi figured. "After you," he says to Booker. He will climb up third, leaving the compartment clear for Kylah, Velir, and... Terrance, was it? Surely some or all of the members of their definitely-not-Starfleet band will go by dashing or badass nicknames, though. He himself seems to still be "Doc."

Onn, Graham and Dr. Mäkeläinen make their way up the peculiar ladder. Onn has some difficulty, but her strength doesn't give out and she doesn't fall.

One deck above the shuttlebay entry compartment, the air is definitely cooler than below, but it warms again as you come to the top of the ladder, one deck higher than that. The three of you find yourselves in a relatively narrow corridor. Another Uwat is there, and silently gestures towards what Onn and Graham presume is the bow of the ship, from what they observed during the docking sequence. Onn does feel more tired now, and her arms are now almost limp.

Kylah, Rangin and Rawlings may pass through the airlock and leave the shuttle next, if they wish.

Seeing that the other three appear to have had no trouble with the climb, Kylah is about to follow suit, but then feels a sense of the foolishness of not allowing a Security officer to go first. "Perhaps you ought to lead, Mr. Rawlings?" she asks with an apologetic look, and waits for him to ascend, assuming he agrees with her.

And if he does, Kylah will take a quick check to see if anyone is watching. If not, she impulsively turns to Velir and, clutching his hand, whispers "I so admire your bravery," before kissing him on the cheek. It is merely a fleeting brush of her lips against the slight stubble of his skin, but there is no time for anything else, even if she were inappropriate enough to take advantage of the situation. She does not wish to risk Mr. Rawlings looking back down to check on them.

Then, flushing, she hurries up to join the others, making sure Velir is following.

Nia rubs her arms and then, the muscles being too tired even for Nia to care for herself, she just lets them drop to her side. The case she's carrying isn't helping but she won't let it go; in the unlikely scenario of one of the Uwat choosing to confiscate it, they'd have to rip her wrist clear out of its joint.

She's still warmed by Booker's response to her. Not entirely a good thing. Don't be kind to me, she wanted to say after digesting his solemn words. Don't make me count on that again. Trouble is, 'again' implies that she ever stopped counting on him. As if some unconscious part of her's refusing to abandon a micron of hope that... that...

What? What are you still hoping for? What kinda stupid-ass, fairy-tale fantasy are you pathetically holding on to?

But once Book made his quiet promise, rather than reply with anything but the flash of gratitude and emotional hunger that she suspects was all too apparent in her expression, Nia walks slowly to follow the Uwat, forcing herself to focus on their surroundings.

Once her breathing's a little more steady, she asks, "You taking us to a passenger area? Or maybe the Bridge? I'd be real interested to see it. And to meet your captain," she adds, having enough politesse to pretend that she's more interested in the bugs than their tech. "We owe you, big time. Though I would like to get some rest, too. Kinda need it, actually," she adds, less to communicate this to the Uwat than to pass this status along to Mäkeläinen. Who, admittedly, probably figured that out on his own.

Graham does his best to make mental notes of the layout of the ship and the count of crew members. He looks out for any signage on doors that might give an indication of what's where (such as medical bay, possibly a weapons locker, and so on).

Dr. Mäkeläinen is tired too, to be honest. The return of artificial gravity is the end of a wild ride but also a steady weight. He follows the other two towards the bow, looking back after a minute to see if the second group has already made it through the airlock and up. "Yes, I think we are ready for any rules and essential safety procedures and other orientation, but after that we shall need a few hours to ourselves," he says.

Kylah, Rangin and Rawlings pass through the airlock and leave the shuttle. The giant redshirt agrees to go up the peculiar ladder first.

Rangin seems surprised but pleased by Kylah's kiss, but just the same he glances nervously up, to see that Rawlings, already ascending, didn't see it. The three of you soon in turn reach the top of the ladder, and join your three Yorktown crewmates in the corridor on the upper deck.

The Uwat in the corridor makes a hand gesture that Onn doesn't understand. Jol, the First Officer, having come up the ladder last, says, "She doesn't understand Federation Standard. Yes, the passenger area - the Common Room - is just forward of here." He points in the same direction as the female Uwat had earlier. "The Bridge is off-limits to passengers, sorry, but I will ask if the Captain would like to meet with you."

Graham sees no signage of any kind on the four identical doors which open off the corridor where you now stand, two on each side. Then he is nearly bowled over by three small Uwat, about a quarter the size of the other Uwat you've seen up to now, who come racing down the corridor and then bump their scaly heads repeatedly into Jol.

The Uwat officer makes a prolonged, gulping noise which Kylah, sensing his amusement with her psi sense, realizes must be laughter.

The Doctor regards the young Uwat with interest and amusement. 'Your relations, I presume?' he asks Mr. Jol.

Kylah watches the...children?...and smiles, glad to see that Mr. Jol approves of the little Uwat and their less-than-respectful activities. It shows something of Jol's character, not minding being, literally, the butt of a joke in front of strangers. However grim he might seem, he has affection for the small ones' antics.

About to thank Jol for at least agreeing to speak to the Captain, Nia is interrupted by someone slamming into Booker. Her hand grabs at her belt before she realizes that a) there's no danger, and b) there's no phaser to use anyway. She glances up at Book, appeased and now unable to keep from smiling, before she quickly re-aims the grin at Rawlings. "Stowaways?" she asks.

The kids--if that's what they are, since Nia has no idea if the Uwat just come in different sizes--give her a little pang of longing. And serve as an unfortunate reminder of the medical problem she started this journey with. It seems distant now, in time, space and urgency. Presumably, if she makes it to the Yorktown with her brain working, it'll be able to concentrate on her premature infertility. But it'll hardly matter if she's dead or comatose.

But she still smiles and continues the doctor's thoughts. "If they are, they're a cute bunch." She raises her hand to return the other adult Uwat's gesture. Hopefully one of greeting. To Jol, she adds, "Can you introduce us to your crewmate? I guess we can't converse, but I'd like to know her name."

Graham momentarily tenses, but then rolls with the impacts and can't help but laugh.

Kids. Running to see what I assume is their parent...kind of a universal thing...

Despite the smile, he can't help but feel a pang of regret and loss: happy memories of Lizzy running to him, and Jane...and then, after a point, not so much anymore...

Jol says, "These are Hrushta... children of the ship. They are not necessarily mine; I do not know. They are only a few years old. Certainly not stowaways - Uwat usually travel with their children." He indicates the female Uwat. "This is Paral. She is a cargo specialist." He says a few words to Paral, who replies, then looks very briefly at Onn, touches her shoulder and walks aft.

Jol leads the six of you forward. The children come with you, bumbling along and quietly chittering to each other. The Common Room is perhaps twice the size of the shuttle's interior. There, you see two humanoid women, both in dark, functionally-severe clothing. They are tall, slim and have pointed ears. They rise from the ratty-looking cloth-covered chairs on which they were sitting and apparently conversing. Several other chairs and couches, also worn and frayed, are placed around the room, as are two low, battered old metal tables. There is what appears to be an Uwat replicator or food-dispensing station along the forward wall. The corridor continues forward from the far side of the Common Room. Several doors open off both the Common Room and the corridor beyond.

The older of the two women bows slightly and says, "Welcome aboard. I am T'Ves, an Adept of the Daughters of Surak." She nods to the other woman. "This is T'Rehl, a Novitiate." The other woman also bows.


https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Surak

Walking down the corridor, Kylah has been listening hard to the children, trying subvocally to imitate the sounds they make in an attempt to become familiar with this Uwat language.

But linguistically and physiologically, she knows she is not capable of even the most rudimentary verbal discourse. She might be able to understand them, if given enough time, exposure and practice. Until they are somewhere with a Universal Translator, Kylah will have to respond in gestures or expressions.

Just before the party enters the Common Room, Kylah braces herself for the inevitable rush of emotions she must guard against. To her surprise, the effort proves unnecessary. Not just because there are so few people here that it is well within her ability to avoid sensing them, but the two approaching her...

A broad smile (as broad as her smiles ever get) breaks across Kylah's face. Her enthusiasm at seeing Vulcans aboard is evident. She esteems their race and culture most highly, and is always relieved to be near such blissfully calm, rational and unreadable minds.

Without hesitation she steps forward and bows slightly, then greets them with near reverence. "Dif-tor heh smusma," she says softly, adding the Vulcan salute.

Even as she raises her hand, it occurs to Kylah that she probably should have let Lt. Onn speak first, but... well, they are pretending to be non-Starfleet officers and strict adherence to standard rules would not fit the impression they have given--successfully or not--of a casual, friendly team.

Besides, in most of our missions, am I not the one often chosen to appease those we meet? And her method has usually been to respect the strangers' correct protocol, both familiar and observed. She will not apologize. At least, not until we are alone.

Surak, the Vulcan philosopher. That, combined with their manner, appearance, names, and vocation, strongly suggests the women are two Vulcan pilgrims, though Bizhi knows to beware premature absolute certainty. Under normal circumstances he would find himself discussing fine points of philosophy with this pair; not now, but sometime during the voyage. It may yet happen--- even though he and his mates are supposed to be keeping a low profile, they will be on board for a few days, and on the very likely chance he will encounter one or both of them again it will provide a conveniently neutral topic of conversation.

He does not start speaking Vulcan or observing formally correct Vulcan etiquette like Kylah. Instead, he gives a disarming grin and introduces himself: "Well met! My name's Bizhi; people call me Doc."

T'Ves gives Kylah a subtle smile and replies, also in Vulcan, >Thank you, and greetings to you and your people. You honor us by speaking to us in our language, and speaking it quite well, if I may say. What is your name?< She returns Kylah's Vulcan salute.

She replies to the good doctor in Federation Standard, "Greetings, Doc. That is typically a slang term for 'doctor,' I believe. Are you, in fact, a physician?"

Bizhi nods and says, "That's my métier. Folks learn it and most don't get too creative with the nicknames. But I don't mind: ‘doctor’ means teacher, you know, in one of the Earth languages Federation standard is based on, and calling someone that is a sign of respect. I've heard all kinds of colourful names for physicians," he tells truthfully, "especially from each other!"

Kylah or some of the others might speak, but before too long and before everyone feels obligated to start swapping stories he will segue into, "Please forgive us. We are tired from our voyage and still settling in for this leg."

The presence of children sets Graham's mind somewhat at ease.

Lowers the likelihood we've signed up with pirates, slavers, or simply opportunistic thieves, he thinks.

The two Vulcans are a good sign, too. "Rash decision making without fill information" is not something they're known for...

He nods in greeting. "L--uh, Graham, Booker Graham."

The generous praise from a Vulcan makes Kylah's cheeks turn pink. "Forgive me, I should have introduced myself. I am Kylah, of--" She cuts off before bringing up her House. " When "Doc" speaks, she glances at him approvingly, impressed by his own communication skills and grace.

Though she suspects it is not necessary, Kylah takes advantage of Velir's new psi abilities; she does not need to use them as a conduit, but they provide a useful explanation for her ability to connect. She is already stands close to him, and so subtly lets her fingers brush against his hand, maintaining the contact.

Do not use your true name, she suggests. She does not bother looking at him; others should not see that she is sending a message. Vulcans are quite trustworthy, but still...I should not have given my own.

Nia nods in relief at Mäkeläinen's remark about rest, before turning to the Vulcans to give her first name. It might be an excess of caution, but hey, what the hell. If things need to get formal for some reason, she'll deal with that then.

Though she knows about Surak, she's not certain she recalls this... organization. Then again, her mind's not at its best. Things seem to be slipping its grasp like they're covered in oil. "Do you know, are there many others on board?"

T'Ves nods to Bizhi. "I would say there is nothing to forgive. Travel can certainly be draining. In any event, welcome aboard." She acknowledges Graham's and Kylah's self-introductions, and seems to take no notice of either of their slight verbal stumbles.

With her touch, Kylah reads Rangin's answering thought: I understand. I'll come up with another one. To the Vulcan women he bows slightly and says, "Ginran, at your service."

In response to Onn's question, T'Ves says, "There are two others of my sisterhood aboard, and a person whom we have not yet seen out of his cabin. We know very little about him." She pauses for a moment, apparently choosing her words carefully. "There is also one other and... larger party."

Though it is not the first time, Kylah's hearing Velir's voice in her head is uncanny. Like a taste of wine that reminds her both of a sweet memory and a fathomless future.

And then he says "Ginran" and her gaze darts away before she laughs at his alias.

She grows alert when T'Ves is clearly signaling something about the other group, but she cannot guess as to what the other woman fears--if "fear" is a word that can describe her quiet, calm demeanor. Despite being delighted to find the unknowable Vulcans onboard, Kylah now regrets that she cannot silently gauge just what might have caused T'Ves's pointed remark.

"Have you been traveling with the Uwat for your entire trip? Or is your your journey with the Doregg just beginning? I wonder if that is the same for all of us onboard?" Not wanting to show too much curiosity about this unknown large group, Kylah adds apologetically. "I am sorry, I realize I do not know how you wish to be addressed, as one of the Daughters of Sulak. Is 'Adept' a form of address for you? And 'Novice' for you?" she asks, turning to T'Rehl."

Graham waits for an opportunity to ask a question without interrupting his colleagues or the Vulcans.

When he has the chance, he addresses T'Ves. "Uh, 'larger' as in 'number' of beings or 'larger' as in size of...being?"