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

Kylah's left hand curls where it is resting on her bed, her fingers twisting the blanket. These are harmless... "I--I will answer these factual questions only, but you must not attribute anything to me. Palver first came to my attention on the last day of our investigation. I learned he was the owner of the Trimalchio and had arrived a full day before he was introduced to the spores. Not long afterward, I observed from the recovered video footage from the Starfire nightclub that Palver's actions on the night of Mr. Wilson's death were at odds with his prior statement to us." She exhales. "To your second question: yes, Vice Admiral Hardin stunned Ensign Graham and me. That is all I can tell you, Mr. Walcott. I really must not continue this. Do you promise I will not be named as a source? One of the hotel security staffers can back up my statement about the footage, a Mr. Gaines. Use him if you must name someone."

Rangin arrives at Mess Hall 1 and sees it is about half-full. He recognizes a couple of people, but none he would call a friend.

Several people in the corridor rush up to Collins. "Are you all right? Can we help?" they ask.

Walcott says, "Uh huh. Uh huh. OK, thanks. My sources say that Palver chartered and didn't actually own the yacht. Is that right? And how were his actions at odds with his earlier statement, exactly? And just a few more questions. How did Hardin stun the two of you? Was he working with anyone else in Starfleet? Do you think he killed Wilson, or did Palver, or someone else? And is it true that you had an affair with Palver, or Fastolfe, or both…?"

Collins allows herself to be helped to standing by those who have gathered. She wipes her eyes, and steadies her breathing. "I'll be alright. I've had a bad day, and I lost something important to me recently. It's unrecoverable. Thank you. Thank you." She repeats her thanks a few more times, facing each person as she does. Then she picks up her satchel and continues on to Ben's. Important? No, it wasn't. I didn't even want it. So why do I keep getting so upset when I think about it. I'll have to see Doc Villa about this tomorrow. All she wants now is to be held and to sleep.

Kylah tries to answer only the question about the Trimalchio, but Walcott doesn't seem to give her time to respond. "Yes, yes, it was a charter," she corrects herself, "I am sorry, I misspoke. I should not..." About the discrepancy with Palver's statement: "No, I will not answer that." She repeats this for the next two questions about Hardin, only able to get a word in when he asks about who killed Wilson. "Fellim Palver murdered Mr. Wilson," she says in as firm a voice as possible. "Now I really must--"

Walcott's last question arrives and, once it has sunk in, Kylah's eyes widen in horror. Falstolfe's name, she expected; possibly Jan's. But Palver? They are linking her with--Palver? No, it is even worse than that: he said, "Or both..."

Every instinct in her wants to blurt out her fiercest denial, her most demanding "who dares to say that of me?!" But she knows has already failed her vow to stay silent and nothing she say will make things any better. "I--I have no comment," she whispers. "No comment at all. Goodbye."

She shuts her communicator and flings it to the floor, then covers her eyes with both hands. Her face is hot, and feels more so underneath her seemingly bloodless hands. If she had not promised Velir to meet him for dinner, and if things were not so tenuous with him, she would grab her blanket, curl up beneath it and pretend herself invisible.

After a few moments where she is as still as a statue, Kylah goes to the bathroom, washes her face, and stares at her benumbed expression in the mirror. At last she forces herself to go to the mess hall.

Rangin wanders up and grabs a plate of lamb hotpot, still only vaguely aware of the food, and concentrating more on what to say and do about Kylah. Looking down at the plate, he suddenly realises just how hungry he is and doubles it up with a side order of salad and potatoes, and a sweet Bolian Sundae before adding a large coffee to it and making his way to the tables.

Nodding at a few of the people as he makes his way to the table, Rangin realises he's missed chatting to the others on board, if only due to the effects of the Sakathian virus and then followed up with this jaunt to OCIII. Sitting down, he unloads the tray and looks over the meal in front of him. Thinking back to the fine meal he had had the previous evening, he wonders how it will match up...not just the food, but the company when it finally arrives.

Looking around the mess, Kylah does her best to avoid anyone's gaze and just hopes that no one here has seen the news reports. It is probably good that this is such a late meal.

At last she spots Velir, seated by himself with a tray and some hearty meal that he does not appear to be touching. Although she was hungry before, Kylah is now too tense to contemplate food. Instead she orders a hot chocolate and walks somewhat hesitantly toward Velir's table. With every step she forces herself to cram her mood deep, deep within, out of sight. She is determined to keep him from growing weary of her constant misery--his earlier frustration made it clear she is already testing his patience. Do not speak of yourself. Keep things pleasant.

"Hello," she ventures once she reaches the empty chair opposite him, sinking down. Her hands cradle the mug in front of her, letting its comforting heat seep into her flesh. She gives him as warm a smile as she can. "I hope you were not waiting for me. What is that you are eating?"

Rangin greet Kylah with a smile as she approaches the table. "Hello there. I will admit I didn't wait as I didn't know how long you would be, though I didn't expect it to be that long. Actually, I was starving and I have already had half, I've just slowed down a bit. This is hotpot, nice and warming..." before he looks across and see Kylah only has a cup, "...just the hot chocolate, I thought you were hungry as well."

Rangin puts his knife and fork neatly down and looks across, He knows he has to ask and is hoping the answer is just what he wants it to be. "So, comm call all sorted then?"

Walcott is just beginning to ask more questions when Kylah shuts her communicator and flings it away.

Garcia looks at Kjaerstad, who says to Graham, "I suppose we could have been more pro-active in making sure that Kylah had someone else with her. Perhaps we should adopt a buddy system every time a landing party splits up, so that no one is ever unaccompanied. But it was, as you said, a fluid and changing situation. I'm sure we can do better next time."

Graham takes a deep breath. "Thank you, lieutenant: 'pro-active' is a word I was hoping to hear. The point being that if any one of us individually--or all of us..." he holds up a finger. "Had taken just one more proactive step to close the loop things would have gone differently--better."

He gestures slightly toward the two men. "I trust that especially in virtue of rank, or..." he points back to himself. "Ah, an obviously long term of service that we're all committed to being exemplary examples of what it means to always challenge ourselves to take the 'extra step,' especially where safety is involved." He starts to stand. "That's what my AMR will reflect."

As he stands, he adds "I intend to apologize to Ens. Kylah. Not as the mission commander but simply as a colleague who didn't live up to his personal standard for taking that extra step, this time. Whether you choose to do the same or not is up to you and will have no bearing on my report."

Although--not necessarily that you care--it will have decisive impact on whether I ever trust you with anything but the simplest of tasks in the future, he thinks.

Kylah lifts her mug to her lips, taking a sip that slightly burns her tongue before responding. "Yes, the conversation was brief, as expected," she says calmly, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it--and to waste a little more time. "As for this... I think I am too tired to eat. I will likely be going to bed soon and do not like sleeping on a full stomach. What precisely is in a 'hotpot'?"

Kjaerstad nods a little grimly, and Garcia says, "Thank you, Mr. Graham." They both leave.

Collins arrives at Cooper's quarters. He sees her and blanches, taking her hand. "Are you OK, Jer? What happened?"

Graham starts finalizing his report, then sighs. Comms is going to think I'm stalking her...but it's stupid to delay, no matter how much I might want to pop the chute on this day...

He asks Comms for Ens. Kylah's location, but does not ask to be put through. Assuming he is not told she's in her quarters (in which case he assumes she might have turned in), he heads for her location.

"It's nothing really." Collins says "I'll be fine. It's just my emotions are still jumbled." She takes a breath and moves in to hold Cooper close. "I passed a pregnant crewman on the way over and just lost it." and having said that, she starts sobbing again, hanging on to Cooper for dear life.

Rangin looks back at Kylah trying to read her, but it was never something he had been that good at. He nods his head at the news, it was more or less what he was looking for. "So, hopefully no more people trying to get hold of you then. I know I suggested otherwise, but full credit to you for doing it your way."

Rangin stirs the food on his plate with his fork. "A hotpot? Someone's idea of throw it in a pot and leave to simmer for several hours. This particular one is supposed to lamb, with assorted vegetables thrown in, and cooked in stock for several hours. In reality, its the best the replicator can do at short notice. I know you are not supposed to be able to tell the difference, and to be honest it's probably just me, but it still doesn't taste quite right. Then again, it's warm and comforting and I could do with some of that...we could all do with some of that."

Rangin blushes slightly as he realises what he has said and he glances back up at Kylah to see how she has taken it. "I quite agree. It has been a long day." he tries to cover up, by taking another mouthful of the dinner in front of him. It is easier to concentrate on that, than perhaps look up and see her expression.

Velir's compliment to Kylah for 'doing it her own way' cuts through her, and she sets the mug down before she chokes on another sip. I cannot lie to him. What if he finds out that I did not keep my word? That I spoke foolishly? If he learns I failed to hold my tongue, he will be so disappointed. Then there are these revolting new rumors about her and Palver... She knows she should warn him before it is too late.

But her impulse dies when Velir continues to talk about his food and why he chose it. Something in his tone gives away his own emotional exhaustion. She looks up and his tired eyes reveal a rare vulnerability as he describes the food as comforting--and then there is a fleeting look of embarrassment. Her heart turns over. Velir never asks for anything for himself. I can support him, for once. My problems are my own.

Velir's hand is on the table, as is Kylah's, and she discreetly moves her arm forward, so that the very tips of her fingers reach his. She leaves them there only long enough to gain his attention, then withdraws. "Velir," she murmurs, her eyes wide and hungry, desperate to prove her worth to him. "Please. What is wrong? Let me comfort you, for once. I want to be here--I am here for you. Tell me what you wish and I will do it."

The duty Communications officer on the Bridge says, "Ens. Kylah is in her quarters." That is, after all, where she left her communicator.

Cooper takes Collins into his arms and holds her tight, stroking her hair and saying, "Poor Jer. It's all right... you're going to be all right...."

After a few minutes Collins's communicator beeps. It is Dr. Villa, who says kindly but firmly, "Mr. Collins, I heard what happened in the corridor. Please report to Sickbay immediately. Have someone accompany you. If you'd prefer, I'll send two orderlies with a gurney."

"Yes, Doctor. I'm on my way." Collins grabs Cooper's hand, "Come with me?" she looks into his eyes.

"Of course," he says, smiling.

The two go to Sickbay, where Dr. Villa gives Collins a thorough scan, and frowns. "Maybe it was a mistake letting you out of Sickbay when I did. How do you feel now?" she asks.

"I'm fine" Collins tries to reassure the doctor. "It was an emotional thing, not a physical thing." Yeah, that'll convince her, Collins thinks sarcastically. "I guess my hormones haven't balanced out yet."

Graham rubs his temples. This mission is like a monkey I cant get off my back. That thought brings Collins to mind.

They room together--well, at least that means if Kylah is in their shared quarters, I'm unlikely to be barging in on any...after dinner plans...she had with her dude. He frowns. Hopefully those plans were romantic, not narcotic... He's encouraged by the fact that Cooper seemed genuinely friendly rather than in any way evasive.

He sighs. Since I've already held my, Kjaerstad's, and Garcia's feet to the fire in my report for not living up to the standard to which we should hold ourselves for being proactive, I can hardly punk out now.

He makes his way (without much enthusiasm) toward Kylah's quarters.

Dr. Villa takes some convincing, but finally agrees to allow Collins to leave Sickbay. She gives the Security officer a small, thin, matte-black biosigns monitor (as Rangin and Kylah had earlier had) to keep on or near her overnight, and tells her outside of Cooper's earshot, "No sexual intimacy for at least 48 hours, Lieutenant. You're not as recovered as we both thought you were earlier, and I don't want any further complications. Send Mr. Cooper away if you have to. That's an order. Understood?"

Graham arrives at Kylah's quarters. There is no answer when he tries the door chime.

"Yes, ma'am." Collins tells the doctor. It was the furthest thing from her mind at this point, anyway. All she wants is to be wrapped up in Ben's arms and sleep.

Rangin's almost immediate response is to remind Kylah of the dangers of making such an offer, but the words die on his lips as he looks across at her and sees the pleading eyes.

Lowering the fork to the plate, he wryly smiles back at her knowing that though she may say such things with honest intent, some things she would still shy away from. "Thank you, Kylah, for the offer, for being there, for being a friend."

"You said I know you better than any in Starfleet, but I've only known you for a few weeks and I don't think I know you that well at all," he idly moves the fork through the gravy making patterns, "I'd like to change that." Rangin looks across wondering what secrets she is hiding, things she is ashamed of that she has no right to be, why she acts so insecure around others. "but not tonight."

"Tonight, I want to relax, to get away for just a few hours with a friend, to chat, to unwind," Rangin's voice drops low so no-one around other than Kylah can hear him, "to hold tight."

He straightens up in the chair pulling himself back slightly, knowing he has probably overstepped the mark, and can't help but feel the regret mirrored in his face. "I'm sorry, I would be wrong to ask anything of you. You have been through more than I, and probably need a chance to try and rid some of the burden of the last few days yourself, without worrying about me."

"Wrong to ask anything of me?" Kylah shakes her head and even as he has leaned away, she pushes herself forward, as close to the table as she can. "Velir, I want to worry about you! No, that--that is not what I mean," she says with a quick shake of her head. "Of course I do not want to have to worry about you. But I want to show you I can be leaned upon. I am not weak, though I know I seem so."

She wonders if she dares to bring this up, and decides to risk edging toward a dangerous abyss. "The first night of the mission, when I bought that--that dress. I did it for you, so you would see me not as a girl, but a woman. Not just..." She unconsciously lifts a hand over her heart, covering the skin bared by the low neckline of her uniform. "Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. I wanted--I want you to think of me as a peer, an adult who is strong and capable. I know the last few days seem to have proven me otherwise, but that was different. I can be strong for others. I helped raise my siblings, I acted as a leader of my House, when required.

"So please--if I can support you, let me. Of course, if you wish to be alone I understand completely. We have been together a lot and I do not want you to get bored of me. Besides, you likely have friends and tasks that can occupy you however you choose. I am sure you wish to catch up on things..."

Kylah hesitates. She realizes that it might indeed be best to keep Velir busy so that he does not hear any news for as long as possible. "If you do want to be with me and relax, to get away... so do I. I want nothing more than to forget about the planet below, the mission. I do not want to think of them or speak of them anymore. There must be something else we can do to keep occupied."

Her eyes light up. "Of course. 'Hold tight,' you said. That makes me think..." She smiles, almost beaming wickedly at him. "The perfect pastime to take our minds off everything." Then she furrows her brow. "I suppose we can go to my quarters... or possibly not, I do not know if Lt. Collins will be there with her... her friend. Perhaps I should contact her."

Reaching for her communicator, Kylah discovers it missing and she frowns for a second before remembering with a flush. "Oh. How stupid. I left my communicator back in my room. Well... it does not matter, we can find somewhere else private, and I will show you everything. I am not an expert but I am very good." Kylah sets her mug down and looks at Velir brightly. "Whenever you are finished. What do you say?"

Dr. Villa nods. "All right, then. You two scoot." Collins and Cooper return to his quarters.

Rangin looks back across the table in surprise as Kylah responds. As he listens, he wonders just how insecure Kylah is. Rangin had never thought of her as any less than a strong, capable woman and yet to hear her speak she describes herself in such poor times.

Shaking his head in disbelief at her comment about the dress, he resists the urge to blurt out that he didn't really like the dress, it made her look like an ingenue playing dress up instead of a woman. Well, that is his opinion and Rangin firmly clamps down on the urge to ruin this moment. As far as he can tell, Kylah is being genuine.

His eyes narrow as she suggests going somewhere quiet to unwind, that she has an idea to help the pair of them unwind, until she mentions going somewhere private and showing him everything, at which point his jaw drops open slighty and he hopes that no-one else around heard it or misconstrues what she might have in mind. Or is it that she does have that in mind? Either way, Rangin is now exceedingly curious about exactly what Kylah had planned...and judging by the look on her face she is obviously thinking of something good.

Rangin stops for a moment as she finishes, and then grins widely as he slowly comprehends what she is talking about. But perhaps it would be better to let her surprise him, after all, this was her idea. Reaching down, Rangin unclips his communicator and puts it on the table, next to his plate. "I have no idea what you are up to, but if you can think of a way to help the pair of us unwind, then I'm certainly interested." before sliding it across the table to Kylah.

"Contact Lt. Collins, see what she is up to and then, yes, I'm ready to see what you've got." Rangin nods in agreement.

With a relieved inhale, Kylah takes the communicator. "Ensign Kylah to Lt. Collins," she says. "I hope I am not disturbing you. I was wondering if you are--" How to put this tactfully? "--If you will be turning in early tonight. I would like to entertain company in our room, if I may, but do not wish to cause you any inconvenience."

While Kylah contacts Lt Collins, Rangin tucks back into the remainder of his meal with gusto while listening in. The sooner he finishes, the sooner Kylah will be showing him everything. He chides himself over the amusing thought of what else it could mean.

Collins vaguely smiles as she responds "Collins here. No, it's fine, Kylah. The room is all yours. Collins out." She puts her communicator away and snuggles in closer to Ben.

Kylah does not have a chance to thank Collins, but she smiles her gratitude anyway and passes the communicator back to Velir. "The room is all ours," she repeats to him, pleased. Once he is finished eating, Kylah will lead him back through the maze of the ship--it is still not familiar to her, considering all the time she has spent off on missions rather than getting to know her surroundings--and guides her first guest to her quarters.

Graham frowns. Oh for the love of god.... He checks the time and thinks it's more Kylah's turned in. And since he rang the chime without announcing himself, he knows she isn't deliberately ignoring him specifically. The easiest thing to do would be to leave message...

He sighs. Also kind of a cop-out. Well I can't just stand at her door like an idiot on the off chance she's out, without her communicator, and comes back...

He decides to take one more shot - he finds a spot to finalize his report, takes a brief walk around the deck, and then will return to her room.

Pretty much constantly carrying around his communicator in order to be reachable, even off-duty, has become second-nature to Graham, but now that he's entertained the fact that Kylah went out and left hers at home, as it were, he wonders whether he should have done the same.

Todays' only saving grace is that I haven't had to get an earful from Rangin. Graham frowns. But he's had all day to come up with a comprehensive, bullet-pointed list of criticisms, complete with footnotes and high dudgeon...


What if Rangin is as keen to wrap this mission up as I am? Would he really consider it finished without subjecting me to another tirade? Graham can't bring himself to turn off his communicator or swing by to drop it off in his quarters, but he's on edge, waiting to hear it chirp...

As he is finishing the meal, Rangin is now quite grateful for the foresight or ordering a Bolian Sundae and not the Deltan one he had been considering. That would have been just too weird. Nevertheless, he finishes the meal quickly, although just for once only eating most of it and not all. He really did not want to get indigestion tonight.

Once done, as he clears the plates away, he glances round the rest of the mess hall to see if any of the others there are paying a little too much attention to the pair of them and is then happy to follow Kylah back to her quarters.

As they arrive, Rangin asks politely, "so Kylah, what exactly did you have in mind for tonight or should I wait for you to surprise me?" He can't help but smile a wicked grin behind her as she leads him on.

"You will see," she says pleasantly as she lets Velir into her cabin, although first she takes a quick look around to see if there is anything inappropriate lying around. Collins is fairly neat and there are no feminine articles of clothing draped anywhere that might be a bit embarrassing.

Then she spots her communicator on the floor, and she hastens to stoop down and grab it back up before lying on her night table. She mutters something about it having fallen off her bed before turning around to Velir.

"I will be right back," she says, gesturing toward the bathroom and the closet where she keeps her bags and belongings. "In the meantime, please make yourself at home. Lt. Collins will not be back tonight, so we will not be interrupted. Although I suppose she could join in if she wishes..." Kylah heads off to the closet, where she rummages in the dark.

Hiding behind the door, she takes off her uniform, tired of wearing it, and slips a simple casual dress over her head in place. It is not as comfortable as a nightgown, but the pale yellow dress has long, sheer sleeves and drapes modestly (for an Elasian outfit) to her knees. Most important is that it is less restrictive than her uniform, and she need not wear the lengthy boots or stifling tights anymore. Her legs are bare and she slips into a pair of matching slippers. Once that is accomplished, she looks around her bags for the final necessary item. Triumphantly she pulls the small box from the bottom-most bag.

"There," she says, emerging from the closet. "I hope you do not mind that I changed. I cannot relax in such confining material. Now," she says, sitting on the bed and patting the blanket opposite her with an enticing smile. "Come up here by me. It is time I fulfilled the promise I made long ago." She unlatches the box and cheerfully pulls out the deck of cards and a small pouch full of plastic chips. "Are you ready?"

Rangin waves away Kylah's muttered apology about the communicator and casts his eyes around the room, wondering how Kylah and Lt Collins split it up.

As she reappears dressed in the yellow dress, Rangin nods appreciatively over how good she looks. As she pulls out the cards, Rangin smiles back at her knowing his guess had been right. "I most certainly am ready, though that dress might be considered unfair. You look so much more comfortable, and beautiful, not to mention highly distracting in it." He nods towards her apparel. "How am I going to learn to play cards, when it will be difficult to remove my gaze from you instead."

He makes his way across and carefully sits on the blanket opposite Kylah. "I guess I will just have to play in this uniform I have been wearing all day. Had I known I might have changed for something a little more casual as well. But then, I always did enjoy a challenge."

Rangin looks up at Kylah with a wicked grin, "Whenever you're ready."

Kylah maintains her smile but it dims somewhat, and she is more sober as she looks down to shuffle the cards. "I wish... I do not mean to seem ungrateful for your compliments, Velir. I know you mean to be kind. But I wish you would not say such things lightly." Her attention focuses on the intricate designs on the backs of the cards. "I only wore this because it is comfortable. The emphasis men place on my appearance makes me feel if I am some inanimate but decorative object.

"It is always how men describe me. Fastolfe, Jan, the hotel staff, various Kling--clingy cadets at the Academy," she hastens to correct smoothly, before ending in a soft, "Even my Guardian. I do not understand it. I am nothing special on Elas. There are many in Starfleet who look no different from me."

Shaking her head, she slowly deals the cards. "I guess I... I just want to know if there is anything inside that matters," she says before putting the deck between them and lifting the velvet pouch of chips. "I am glad that I please your eyes, if that is what has drawn you to me." Kylah tilts the pounch so the chips fall to the bed, then looks shyly up at Velir as she splits them up--half on her side of the bed, the rest to his. "But I hope you will find something else worthwhile in me. You, of all the men I know, seem the most perceptive. And the most likely to discover something of value. If it is there," she adds under her breath.

Graham exhales and stares at the door to Kylah's (and Collin's) quarters. He's resigned that she's probably still not there, or still not going to answer, leaving a loose thread for him to take care of tomorrow. On the other hand, that's one less thing that can go squirrelly today.

Nonetheless, he's resolved to take his own advice on being proactive, so he rings the chime.

Collins snuggles in closer to Cooper, who's already in pajamas, and who after ten minutes or so drops off to sleep. She is very comfortable and more than a little sleepy herself by now.

Graham's communicator remains silent.

At hearing the chime, Kylah looks up in surprise. It is a somewhat welcome interruption. She feels guilty for having turned the conversation to a less enjoyable topic.

"Excuse me," she says to Velir before pushing herself from the bed, still holding the little velvet pouch and twisting the tie between her fingers while walking to the door. Upon opening it, Kylah is--to put it mildly--startled to see the man in the doorway. "Mr. Graham?" She stares up at him, her face unaccountably flushing. "What--what are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

Graham blinks, a little surprised at the door opening, but more surprised by Kylah's reaction. "Uh, no," he replies by instinct. "No, nothing's wrong." His eyes narrow. "Are you all right?" he says, glancing from her reddened face into the room.

Jeez Booker, he reminds himself, relax, you're not responding to a domestic violence call....

"Of course I am all right. Why would I not--" She suddenly looks back at the bed and sees Velir, then flushes further when she realizes that Graham might see him. We are doing nothing wrong, she tells herself, but still reflexively positions herself a little closer to Graham in hopes that he might not look inside. It would be nice if her private life remained private for more than two minutes.

"I am fine," she concludes firmly as she stares up at him. The fact that she is now so close to him makes it even more apparent how much shorter she is than he is, particularly without her boots to lift her a few inches. Graham is not very tall either, but from his superior height he can certainly see over her. Or look down at her chest. Now she is even more flustered. "What may I do for you, Mr. Graham?"

Half of Graham's response is purely autonomic. As Kylah takes an unnatural step forward, sending a signal he reads as clearly indicating she doesn't want him to come in, he slips his left foot forward and shifts his weight forward onto that foot. He angles his body and slides into the doorframe, maintaining the distance between them solely by seizing the extreme left (Kylah's extreme right).

His right hand moves ever so slightly backward toward where his phaser would be if he had one.

To prevent him from entering, if he chose, she'd either have to take a step back in order to fully obstruct him, extend her arm to grab him...

Or push me against the doorframe with her, uh, very apparent breasts, he realizes.

He clears his throat. The other half of his reaction is more deliberate.

"Um, look, I'm sorry to disturb you," he says--sincerely. He's working on talking himself down from obviously overreacting, when he reminds himself that he's here to apologize for failing to be proactive and dot every 'i' and cross every 't' to make sure his colleagues were really OK.

Then it hits him: son of a bitch, she couldn't be covering for Collins being high, could she?

"I ah, I just needed to speak with you. If I could come in for a moment," he adds. "I'll make it quick."

Graham's bizarrely pushy dance to prevent her from leaving makes Kylah extremely uncomfortable. It is not the first time today he has stepped in the way between her and a means of escape. She wonders if he knows just how aggressive he seems, and how frightening. She gets no unsavory impression from his emotions, but after Fastolfe and Jan she does not trust her instincts.

"In the hallway, please, Mr. Graham, if you wish this to be private. I would rather you not... I have a friend..." Kylah moistens her lips, hesitates, and finally gives up, hoping Velir will not be angry. "Mr. Rangin is in here," she says defiantly. She steps back, only a little, so Graham can tell that Velir is in uniform and nothing untoward is happening.

Then it occurs to her that none of this likely matters, because he is probably here about the mission. He might have heard the latest news, including the rumor about her and Palver. Perhaps Walcott even called him.

Nervous, she squeezes past Graham, not enjoying the proximity, but at last she is in the hall and points a frustrated finger out in the corridor. "We can talk here. What do you want to say?"

"Rangin?" Graham blurts out with a mixture of surprise and a little bit of dread.

What was the old phrase, Booker, 'don't break into jail?' Nice work...

He glances at Rangin and very quickly jerks himself back out into the hallway, hoping Rangin doesn't notice him.

Chastened, he lowers his eyes--studiously avoiding looking down the shorter woman's dress--and rubs his head. "Ah, well, look, I really am sorry for disturbing your..."

He raises his head. Your what? Kylah and Rangin did seem maybe to be close, but he's just sitting there... He almost chuckles.

He's probably reading her chakras or something.

He reins in in a diversionary trek through centuries of different cultural stereotypes.

He moves further out into the hallway, leaving the way clear between Kylah and her door. "Your, uh, evening."

He clears his throat. "After we talked earlier--I wanted to apologize. Not as the mission commander but just--you were surprised to not get the back up you expected when you needed it. If any one of us--me, Kjaerstad, Garcia--had been more proactive paying attention to the safety of one of our colleagues...had taken just one single additional action--that would not have happened."

"This has nothing to do with what regs say, or the chain of command--the bottom line is that any good officer--or for that matter halfway decent human being-- doesn't take things like safety for granted or assume 'somebody else' is taking care of it."

He pauses. "I amended my AMR to be explicit on this point. But I wanted to apologize personally." He frowns slightly. "I didn't order Garcia or Kjaerstad to apologize--even if I could, it's not the sort of thing that means anything if it's not sincere. But I wouldn't mind knowing if either of them do."

He shrugs. "That's all. Before too much time passed--I wanted to let you know I listened and acted on what you had to say."

Collins allows herself to be lulled to sleep by Cooper's rhythmic breathing. Just before she is fully asleep, she is aware that she is actually happy for the first time in days, and falls asleep with a smile on her face.

Kylah's awkwardness about Velir's presence in her room fades the longer she listens to Graham's speech. Again she is struck by his taking responsibility for what happened--or rather, what did not happen--in that transporter room corridor. The truth is, Garcia was snatched away from his role as her backup before Graham even knew he had been assigned to it. Kjaestad knowingly, maybe purposely, pulled Kylah's only backup away from her.

She told this to Graham earlier but he does not seem able or willing to concede this.

Is it because Kjaerstad is his superior? Is that why Graham cannot assign blame to him? It is strange. He does not seem to be a by-the-books man. He is a dyed-in-the-wool combat officer, and there will always be a special bond between such men and women. There is no getting past it. "The thin red-shirt line," she murmurs bitterly, looking at her pale yellow slippers.

Then she lifts her eyes to Graham's and at last gives him a proper response. "Thank you, Mr. Graham. And I am grateful that you amended your AMR," she says, her voice tired but sincere. "I also appreciate your apology. I said before I do not blame you, as you were operating at a disadvantage. But I accept your apology nevertheless because you seem to need me to.

"I do not--I do not fully understand why you cannot ascribe blame to the right person. When some part of our ship's engine fails, someone such as Lt. Delaney would make every effort to determine which specific component part failed in its duty; he would then figure out why it failed. Finally he will either fix or replace that instrument. He would not blame the entire engine.

"Why is this different? You may argue that people deserve more than to be considered instruments worthy of replacing. But unlike a piece of machinery, people have motives. People can make mistakes not merely because they lack ability, but because they choose to fail."

She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. "I would like to ask you one question, Mr. Graham. You said that you did not order Garcia or Kjaerstad to apologize. I assume, therefore, that you spoke to them. May I ask what they said, if they gave you a reason why Kjaerstad overrode my order without even telling me?"

Graham nods slowly, listening carefully to her question. It's a fair question, he thinks. Plus at least so far Rangin hasn't burst out of the room to amplify it: 'indeed, explain why you jackbooted simian, you lumbering clod...'"

He takes and exhales a deep breath. He suspects his answer may be less than satisfying to someone half his age. "Well, once I got back on the air--and gave some orders, no less--the waters got really muddy about chain of command. " He shrugs. "Was whatever authority you had solely operative while I was out of pocket? Was there reason for everyone to assume I had re-taken direct control? Could the regs be read to say that Kjaerstad had done 'enough by the book' informing he he'd drafted Garcia in response to my new order?"

He shakes his head and looks at the younger officer directly, something made less awkward by the fact she's now covering her chest.

"When you're trying to identify what part is causing a failure, you want a good, clear test." He shrugs slightly. "The fact that no good officer--especially anyone who aspires to being a senior officer--could possibly claim that in the kind of situation we were in it is 'good enough' to assume the mission commander is taking care of things without making a proactive effort to confirm, or that it's 'good enough' to follow an order that conflicts with a previous one without helping the person giving the order out by reminding them of something they might have forgotten..."

He pauses and smiles grimly.

"That sets up a good clear test. A bright line, if you will, rather than a scrum that leaves everybody a little bit mud-splattered. It's worth giving up on any satisfaction from pointing a finger at one person, or one thing, to get to the heart of the matter about who you can trust."

He's mostly in the mode of giving advice, as he's certain he went about things the right way. Of course, you're also certain there's something behind why she's so focused on this...

"Ah - look, I know...I'm pretty sure you didn't feel like you were treated with full respect down there. Maybe, ah...other places too. If I were in your shoes..." He realizes she isn't wearing any. "In your place, I'd be pretty pissed off and upset about it. I'd want my commanding officer, even a temporary one, to kick some ass and take some names over it."

Isn't this ironic? I'm apologizing for not rampaging around like a bull in a china closet while Rangin's sitting not ten meters away...

He has a false start, and then takes her shoulders firmly but very gently. "I know this is disappointing to you," he says, looking down at her and nodding slowly. Then he shakes his head slightly. "I also don't see any other way I would handle this particular situation. But I'm not oblivious to--"

To what? To what you need?


"...to the situation."

Well, I don't totally understand the situation, though...But I'm on it, nontheless he reminds himself. He's fully dialed in to making sure he does whatever he can to ensure not just her safety, but her well-bring.

"You're not alone with it," he says, letting her go. He drops his eyes for a moment and shrugs. "Ah, speaking of which, I should really let you get back to your, uh...quarters."

Try as Kylah might, she cannot parse Graham's response to her question. If it was a response. It strikes her that he would make an excellent Privy Council member on Troyius. As Elaan has written her, they are deft at double-talk and taking a hundred paces to wind their way around facts when there is one clear path to the truth.

Apparently in Graham's view there is no point to determining who is to blame for Kylah's order not being followed, merely because Graham got on the open channel at one point. Except, as Kylah has tried to explain over and over again, Kjaerstad's disobedience occurred before Graham was even involved. Why is that not clear? Why does he not see that she was put in danger because Kjaerstad rescinded Kylah's call for backup before Graham got involved?

Kylah is about to explain this for the third time when Graham suddenly puts both hands on her. It is all she can do not to wriggle out from under him. He says he is not oblivious, but he very clearly is. Frozen in place, she just stares at him, stomach churning, as she bites back the words: Do you touch all your officers as much as you do me?

Finally he lets go and she gladly takes a step back, shrugging her shoulders until the warmth and pressure of his hands have faded from memory. She nods. "Yes. Thank you for... for your visit. It was unnecessary for you to come all this way so late, but..." Kylah abruptly looks down at herself, thinks of the time of evening, thinks of his insistence on coming into her room, remembers his touch. A sick fear comes over her and she can almost feel the blood drain from her face. Just what was he expecting from her? What if Velir were not here?

"Thank you again for treating me professionally," she says in as distinct a voice as she can, though it sounds weak to her. "Good night, Mr. Graham." She backs away and quickly places her hand on the controls to shut the door. She keeps her gaze trained on her hand for a moment, girding herself, before turning to Velir and walking slowly back to the bed.

Rangin watches with amusement and then a certain amount of disbelief as Kylah answers the chime to Ens. Graham and then leaves the quarters. He suddenly realises he is now alone in Ens. Kylah's and Lt. Collins quarters with nothing to do. After drumming his fingers on the bed for a moment, it becomes apparent that Kylah is not coming straight back in and indeed must be having some kind of conversation outside which is obviously intended not for his ears.

He reaches across and picks up the pack of cards and deals himself out a game of patience. If she is back by the end then fine. If not, he will just leave her a note and head off.

It's only a part way through when Kylah walks back in, looking all stiff and fixed. Rangin puts the cards down as she makes her way back to the bed.

"Is everything alright, Kylah?", he asks quietly, concerned for the change in demeanour and wondering what the conversation was about.

Graham heads back to his quarters.

Well, at least that wasn't a disaster, he thinks.

All things considered he figures it's a good thing Kylah and Rangin are friends--or more. Either way, he's a pain in the ass as far as I'm concerned but he's a decent sort.

He's looking forward to a relaxing shower and a good night's sleep.