Star Trek RPG - Mission #8: "Make A Wish"

Star Trek: The Yorktown Chronicles

Setup thread: http://www.mellophant.com/forums/showthread.php?t=10960

Mission #1: "On the Brink": http://www.mellophant.com/forums/sho...the-Brink-quot
Mission #2: "Primum Nil Nocere": http://www.mellophant.com/forums/sho...il-Nocere-quot
Mission #3: "Some Other Side of Paradise": http://www.mellophant.com/forums/sho...-Paradise-quot
Mission #4: "Codex Aelyrr": http://www.mellophant.com/forums/sho...ex-Aelyrr-quot
Mission #5: "Of Captains and Capos": http://www.mellophant.com/forums/sho...and-Capos-quot
Mission #6: "Marala": http://www.mellophant.com/forums/sho...ot-Marala-quot
Mission #7: "The War-Brotherhood of Irkhuit": https://www.mellophant.com/forums/sh...f-Irkhuit-quot

It is March 26, 2270.

Capt. James T. Kirk and the starship Enterprise completed their historic, and soon to be legendary, five-year mission not long ago.

The United Federation of Planets is strong, expanding and prosperous. Some fifty worlds are now represented in the Federation Council, united in their commitment to peace, democracy, the rule of law, free trade and mutual protection. The Federation's longtime rivals, the Klingons and Romulans, are now loosely allied, but to date have not mounted a major, concerted challenge to Federation interests in the quadrant.

Starfleet, the Federation's exploratory, scientific and military arm, has grown in the past few years. Twenty Constitution-class heavy cruisers remain its backbone, but a host of other vessels - light cruisers, destroyers, frigates, scouts, couriers, tugs, research and other specialized craft - have more than tripled the size of the Fleet. Starfleet is committed to extending its reach to every corner of the Galaxy granted to the Federation by treaty or unclaimed by others.

It's a good time to be a Starfleet officer, and those aboard the USS Yorktown often find themselves on the front lines of the challenges now facing the Federation.

So prepare yourself for adventure where no one has gone before....

Captain's Log, Stardate 6077.7. The Yorktown will soon arrive in the Cavinre system, where we'll return to its most-populous but troubled seventh world. It is run, I regret to say, by a repressive government which is nevertheless considered by the Federation to be an important ally in the ongoing fight against piracy in the sector, as well as a significant trading partner and a bulwark against Klingon expansionism.

Three days after her return to the Yorktown, Lt. Onn has been cleared by Dr. Villa for unrestricted service. She is now in the big chair, serving as Bridge Command Duty Officer, as the ship draws nearer and nearer to the Cavinre system at Warp 5.

As Onn faces the main viewscreen, which shows the outermost planets of the system growing larger, Lt. JG Booker Graham is to her left, at the Security station.

The Environmental station to his left is vacant at the moment, but further over, Lt. JG Demei Xiang is at the Engineering station.

Ahead and to Onn's right, the General Purposes station just to the right of the main viewscreen is also vacant, but next to it, Dr. Bizhi "Biz" Mäkeläinen is at the Life Sciences station, not far from Lt. Gennadi Antonov at Science 2 and then the Science Officer himself, Lt. Cmdr. Abdi Roble, at Science 1. Antonov and Roble are jointly carrying out a scan of the extensive Cavinre asteroid belt.

Ens. Kylah is at the Communications station, just behind Onn and to Roble's right, listening intently for a signal from Cavinre VII even as she mulls over the subspace message she got from her Elasian guardian only a few hours ago. A murmur of reports from belowdecks can be heard by all over the muted humming, buzzing, whirring and even occasional chirping of the Bridge's advanced control systems.

Onn can see that the crew is working with its customary quiet efficiency. She expects the Captain's arrival on the Bridge momentarily.

Ship's Time is 1603 hours.

Bizhi has quite a few missions under his belt by now, but he is still a relatively junior officer (perhaps not younger than some Lieutenants who have been in Starfleet since the start of their careers--- the Medical Corps has its own traditions, though), and he is grateful for these chances to man the station on the bridge. To establish his competence among the senior officers of the Yorktown, certainly, but, with all due respect, he did not join the Fleet only to treat minor ailments among the crew and run routine tests. He doubts there are unknown life-forms or pathogens in this system, but unknown to him--- very likely. He does not yet know much about the worlds of Cavinre, but he has been listening to the stories going around. He has, for better or for worse, more than average experience in emergency medicine under difficult conditions, which makes him a good candidate for a particular variety of missions, but he hopes no one is envisioning anything like that.

Aside from the usual atmospheric noises, the Bridge itself has been atypically quiet. Atypical, that is, for a watch when Nia's in the Captain's chair. She's always found that conviviality and interaction encourage teamwork, and when serving as BCDO she usually engages her fellow officers in light conversation.

Today, she's not up to that. She's tense in the chair instead of easy, although healthwise, she's pretty much right as rain. Recovery, for Nia, meant spending time cocooned and solitary in her quarters, her environmental controls set for a jungle-like humid heat. Lying on her bed, sleeping, meditating to Vulcan music lent to her by T'Var.

Hiding, in short. Particularly from Cheverez, because she's just not ready. Ajay conned his way in to remind her what talking is like. And then sex, to remind her what exertion for pleasure is like. It was great, it gave her a sense of her own physicality, it was caring and sexy and silly because that's their friendship.

It just wasn't quite enough to reach the emptiness.

Nia's very aware of Booker beside her and mentally shoos away the introspection. She rubs her shoulder absently. Her muscles are feeling it today, that's for sure. The burst of activity was a lot after nearly a week of nothing. Time to get back to moving. Once she's off-duty again, maybe she'll hit the gym or pool.

In the meantime, she decides to exercise her mind. It strikes her that she's completely forgotten what the deal is with Cavinre VII, if she ever knew it. What was the Yorktown doing while the Tes--the shuttle crew were away?

She girds herself and turns casually to Book. "Hey. Could you please call up any activity reports from while we were off-ship? I...haven't have a chance to catch up on what everyone's been up to once the Yorktown arrived at Cavinre VII the first time. Before their mission was so rudely interrupted." A crooked smile accompanies her arch words.

Directly ahead of Onn and just to her left, at the Helm, Ens. Horst Leventhal says quietly to Lt. JG Luisa Guzman, to his right at Navigation, "A whole lot of nothing, if you ask me."

Guzman grimaces and says, equally quietly, "Well, aboard ship, sure. But there was plenty going on down on the planet. No wonder we didn't get shore leave!"

Kylah finds it relatively easy to ignore the sounds surrounding her, at least compared to blocking others' emotions. Her eyes are closed while she taps lightly at the front controls that direct the movements of a distant dish-shaped antenna outside the hull. Its subspace sensor sweeps in a narrow arc, listening keenly.

If she finds nothing of note, she shifts the sensor's direction in tiny increments and instructs it to take yet another pass through the range of high and low frequencies that might carry a new prospective signal. With the ship's traveling at Warp 5, the window of opportunity to capture a transmission will snap shut...if the Comms officer is slow and her judgment poor when deciding to give up on one possible target and try another.

Thus, Kylah must avoid distraction. Fortunately, her mind is (for once) is not weighed down by worry, except for Velir's condition. She has spent the days since their rescue in contentment: back at her console; trying to dig up anything on the Uwat slave trade; seeking out a second self-defense lesson from Lt. Graham (and then practicing by herself); studying the Vulcan lute; having companionable meals with Mr. Rawlings, Dr. T'Var, Bizhi...and once, guiltily, with Carlos Alvarez. He is very kind and treats her with increasing fondness, to a point that she wonders if she risks hurting him. Mr. Mayhew is also pursuing friendship...or more...but she is less concerned about wounding his feelings. He is more insouciant than Carlos.

The video from Aldaan is hovering at the edge of her thoughts. Since she was about to go the Bridge when she received it, Kylah could only watch the long-overdue reply briefly. There was also an attachment: a piece of music, with its more purposeful hidden message embedded within. Even without decryption, the first seconds of the composition--a complex work written for a chamber orchestra of over a dozen synthesized instruments--told her that the message demanded such secrecy that Aldaan buried it deep and scattered it wide among this dissonance.

At least the "safe" video greeting started off well. Her uncle's tone was surprisingly loving, more emotional than usual. Leaving the rest for later, Kylah hurried off to the Bridge wearing a wry twist on her lips. I have nearly died five times since joining the ship. Why is he so shaken the one time I return without even a scratch?

Now hours into her watch, she sighs, a little impatient to hear the rest of his message. But she redoubles her efforts to concentrate on her work. The gentlest pressure from her fingertips continues to coax the subspace antenna to shift direction infinitesimally, while her other hand presses her earpiece more firmly in place.

Bizhi's communications with his sister have been sporadic since he joined Starfleet. He is never quite sure what to say. But he made certain to send her an anodyne message recently. In his heart, he knows one day he may simply not come back from a mission.

He is not about to start any extended digressive conversations while on duty on the bridge, but he does keep his ears open, and, in his free time, he has been trying to piece together, from talking to various people and the library computer, a clue as to what Starfleet is really up to in this system. Pirates, Klingons, all that explains their presence here, of course, but people like to tell tales.

Since Luisa responded before Booker, Nia turns to the navigator and lifts her chin in a sort of nod. The remark may not have been meant for her ears, but...well, that's what you get when you let a species that evolved as prey overhear your whisper.

"Huh. Things were too sketchy for us--I mean, those on board--to get shore leave? Now you've piqued my interest. Go on, Guzman. While Graham gets me anything official, could you fill me in on what you know about this planet's messy situation?"

She didn't really want to reveal as much ignorance as she feels, but pride's a luxury Nia's run out of. Anyway, she trusts Lu to be tactful. She, Andy and Giya are her closest friends on the ship.

Speaking of Lu, do I need to warn her that in a moment of weakness I told Double-T about her crush? Hmm. Put a pin in that.

Guzman winces a little. "You have really good hearing, Lieutenant. Well, there's supposed to be an official briefing later, but it's no secret that there've been big protests dirtside against the government. Some of the people down there are angry at the Federation, too. There've been demonstrations and riots near the Embassy, and even some anonymous threats. I think it's fair to say the Ambassador has been a bit on-edge. So we didn't get any shore leave because of the potential risk."

Nia's eyebrow remains in its arched position as she thanks Luisa and turns to Booker--no luck there--then Bizhi. "Out of the frying pan into the fire," she says to her fellow shuttle-mates. (She'd include Kylah, but the Comms officer's facing away from her, a cloud of dark hair being all Nia can see.) Passing closer to the Doc, she adds in a murmur, "It'd be nice to be welcomed with open arms after the reception we just got."

She makes another mental note to check in with Luisa later. It's not like her to be so awkward around Nia; nothing she'd said was classified or embarrassing. At least it was an answer to her question, which was all Nia wanted. Maybe some of the crew are walking on eggshells around her, which probably isn't helped by Nia's changed demeanor as BCDO.

All right, suck it up, girl. A deep breath fortifies her--and how nice it still feels to be able to do so again!--before Nia plunges into her performance of Casual Nia Who Definitely Isn't Affected by Fucking Up Her Last Mission. Casting a swift glance around, she alights on the gents over at Science.

She squints at the screen, an unnecessary act but a tactful one. She couldn't help noting that Lu was a little disconcerted by Nia's Sidonian senses. Might as well not show 'em off just because it's a thrill to have them back. She spent four days feeling as if she was encased in petroleum jelly; now her sight, hearing and smell are fully functional and it's a pleasure to reencounter life with clarity. Maybe not emotional clarity, but that'll--hopefully--improve too.

"Anything unusual or noteworthy about that asteroid belt, Commander? Antonov? Ignore me if you're in the middle of something time-sensitive. Just curious to know what we're heading toward."

Graham mentally kicks himself for being so slow to respond to Nia's question.

And it's ironic, because the reason was that he was so intent on collecting information not just about what happened onboard, but also an intel about what's happening on the planet, in the system--and whether their lost shuttlecraft has since been recovered.

If necessary, he waits to avoid interrupting, then apologizes and shares the most important information he's found so far.

Science Officer Roble says, "This system's asteroid belt has atypically high levels of iron, chromium and bendissite, given its age and apparent origins. Very unusual. Mr. Antonov and I hope to eventually cowrite a paper for scholarly publication, perhaps in the Federation Astrophysical Review."

On her Comm panel, Kylah sees that there is an incoming message from Cavinre VII Traffic Control.

Kylah's head perks with interest and she quickly lets Lt. Onn know the source of the hail, also directing her words to the Helm/Nav team--who are probably relevant here. The Tesla's experience approaching Ollos is fresh in her mind, though fortunately there is nothing remotely similar in the present circumstances.

Pressing her mic, she simply responds, "Acknowledged, Traffic Control; this is the USS Yorktown."

Bizhi whispers to Lt. Onn, when she is not performing a critical manoeuvre. "I can't judge ordinary people for not welcoming ambassadors, politicians, and foreign military officers," he says. "Perhaps they might welcome, simply, folk? Even if the Captain hadn't cancelled shore leave, though, angry mobs may not appreciate tourists." It would have been nice to have some free time to explore a new place and a new culture without some medical emergency or time-critical mission looming over everything. There are always dark currents beneath the surface, no matter where you go or how idyllic a place seems, but, even if the Captain must err on the side of caution, it sounds like whatever is brewing in Cavinre may be unwise to ignore.

The doctor checks the computer for information on the local biology and native species, both background information and any unusual readings as they approach within sensor range.

Nia nods at Bizhi's salient point, even if he didn't react to her own about their only just having left a planet--a whole frickin' system, apparently--that hated their guts. We're quite the popular crowd these days.

Having stepped a little closer to the Science screens once Roble answered so she can better appreciate the view, she takes a look without getting in the Science experts' space. "Interesting! Hope you'll send us a copy of the report once it's published. Curious about the significance of the bendissite."

Her palm flips toward the screen nearest her. "So... if you don't mind my asking for spoilers... if the belt’s composition doesn’t align with its apparent age, what's your theory as to why? Some secondary formation, like debris from a differentiated body? Or might it be something captured from outside the system?" After a hesitation she frowns. "You are studying this purely academically, right? This isn't something super-recent we might need to factor into our course?"

Her own words make her wince, and she's quick to offer an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Commander, that was obtuse. You'd've warned us long before now if that was the case. Ignore me, I'm just..."

You're just getting on his nerves, that's what you're just. Before she can think of some way to end that sentence without sticking her foot farther in her mouth, Nia's distracted by Kylah's announcement of an incoming hail--perfect timing. Sounding on edgy or anxious is the last thing she wants. Even if the last weird space anomaly encountered under her command ended up with her vessel drowned under an icy lake.

With a tilted head, she glances over to Booker unconsciously for reassurance. If there's anyone on the Bridge who understands her regret and caution, it'd be him. Plus, regardless of their lost relationship, his face still calms her and reminds her of safety. Like returning home.

Aware she might be showing too much, she changes her expression to one of casual interest, waiting to hear from him whatever's been going on planetside, all while keeping an ear out to whatever Kylah's about to relate to them.

Graham catches Nia's glance and nods before turning back to his console.

He pulls up the latest Security information and Starfleet chatter about the planet in order to give her a situation report.

The Cavinre VII Traffic Control officer says in a flat voice to Kylah, "Welcome to the Cavinre system, USS Yorktown. Please come about to a course of 314 Mark 7 and drop to three-quarters impulse. You may take up standard orbit of Cavinre VII at coordinates 67-0032445. Please do not deviate from these instructions. All glory to First Citizen Vinre. Traffic Control out."

Dr. Mäkeläinen, in checking Federation records, sees that Cavinre VII is more or less a garden-variety Class M planet: slightly smaller than Earth but with a higher land-to-ocean ratio. Gravity slightly less than Earth-normal and milder weather, all in all. The Cavinre people are of the standard Human genotype inexplicably found so widely throughout the galaxy. Estimated population: 2.7 billion. Native species include the usual assortment of mammals, reptiles, insects, fish and the like. The most distinctive lifeform is a giant and fearsome flying reptile that looks much like the pteranodons of ancient Earth; it is an endangered species but still found across about a fifth of the planet (and nowhere near the capital).

Roble bows his head to Onn. "I'd be glad to share our paper with you, Lieutenant, when it's complete. Our preliminary theory," and Onn notices that Lt. Antonov seems pleased to be included in the phrase, "is indeed that there was considerable extraplanetary matter captured some three million years ago, perhaps from a rogue world that passed through and was either gravitationally broken up or severely reduced in mass before continuing on its way. But for now, it's too soon to say." He smiles. "And no, it poses no danger to anyone and has no significance as to the navigation of our ship."

Graham learns from Starfleet records that Cavinre VII's political situation has been highly volatile in recent years, and that the Federation has several times considered closing its embassy. If it were not for the planet's vital importance to Federation interests in the sector, that might have already happened, but things have never quite gotten that bad. Instead, the embassy's security detail has been reinforced several times. The Cavinre Government maintains a strong and capable navy which has been helpful in anti-piracy patrols in the region beyond this system. Graham gets the clear sense from official reports, however, that the autocratic and secretive government itself has few admirers in the top echelons of either Starfleet or the Federation Government itself.

The turbolift door opens and Ensign Delaney carrying a toolkit comes out. He heads for Lt. JG Demei Xiang at the Engineering station.
"Your relieved. #5 Replicator can be detagged and brought back online after your inspection. Everything else is complete. Enjoy your evening."

Almost to himself Delaney says, "Boy, it seems like years since I've had a bridge watch." He starts systematically checking all the readouts, following the EOSS*.



* Engineering Operational Sequencing System

The stranger's rapid voice through the earpiece buzzes by as Kylah unhesitatingly taps out the transcription for backup to send to Lt. JG Guzman. She scowls at the officer's All glory remark, unpleasantly reminiscent of hearing the Doregg's full name for the first time--at least, it strikes a chord of familiarity. Kylah memorized the Uwat language version and strategically repeated it to the Uwat to ingratiate herself with them...for all the good it did.

She shakes away the irrelevant thought. "Thank you," she replies, about to add "sir" or "ma'am" but realizing she is uncertain if there is any need to assign a gender to the Traffic Control officer. "That was 314 Mark 7, three-quarters impulse, and an orbit at 67*-0032445, correct?"

While she rattles off the details, her fingers swiftly type in a Net inquiry about Cavinre VII and this First Citizen Vinre greeting, specifically if there is some polite response that is customarily used in return. If she was willing to ingratiate herself to the Uwat, she might as well take a stab at doing so here, especially since yet again the Starfleet crew are not welcome guests.

Regardless of whether her habitual research unearths anything, if the officer confirms the coordinates, Kylah will repeat the information to Lt. Onn, Lt. JG Guzman and Ens. Leventhal. Since she must turn to address them, she might notice Ens. Delaney arriving to relieve her short-term bunkmate, Xiang.


* 67! A reference to the numbers kids are incomprehensibly obsessed with these days, or just coincidence?

Nia listens to Roble and pictures the ancient events in her mind, as if animated and brought to life by the older man's description. In the background she hears Kylah reciting coordinates, apparently given to her by the Traffic Control person, and straightens to pay closer attention.

While waiting, she too notices the changing of the guard going on over at Engineering. Delaney passes her by without a look on the path to his seat, which from Delaney is about right. Not that he's rude, dull or cold, far from it. But according to Engie gossip since he boarded the Yorktown some months ago--same group as Pourtash, Collins and T'Var, if she remembers right?--she's heard his attention varies from a single-minded, laser focus to flying around like a multitasking bee trying to pollinate every flower it sees.

She smiles at him. "Mr. Delaney," she says with a pleasant nod, and thanks Xiang when the other woman stands and heads off watch and off the Bridge. Even while performing basic social gestures, Nia keeps an ear out for whatever Cavinre is telling Kylah.

The problems on this planet seem to have their source in people. not in nature, Mäkeläinen thinks to himself. Typical. Not being from a garden-variety Class-M planet himself, he would otherwise enjoy a visit to such a place; there is always something new to discover. But, Nia seems to have the measure of it as far as the reception they can expect, and as much as he, himself as a physician is careful to be neutral in the context of political troubles, and the same probably goes for a good portion of the crew, the fact remains they are here representing (and projecting the power of) the Federation.

He looks behind him when the turbolift arrives, but it is not the Captain, just a young man he does not recognize, in an Engineering uniform, here for the shift change.

Graham clears his throat. "Ah, Lt. Onn - the long and the short of it is that it's likely the Federation embassy would have been pulled from the planet because of the government--but for the planet's strategic value, including anti-piracy patrols."

He frowns. "Embassy security has been reinforced several times. Which--well, the Cavinre government is probably smart enough not to attack Federation assets. It may mean that the citizens see us as standing on the wrong side of things, ma'am."

Nia folds her arms across her chest, staring out of the not-very-enlightening main screen. "Feels like more and more people wanna shove our assets out of their faces," she says darkly. "Ollos, Sigma Iotia... I mean, the latter had a cult worshipping us and we still had to sneak around undercover playing 'Feddies? What Feddies?' The prison planet was more inviting, and they were surrounded by mines. Don't they know we're the white-hats here? Supposedly?" The latter is murmured to Booker as she leans against his chair. "But the embassy team's staying in place, right? So if we're not here to extract potential hostages, and studying this asteroid belt seems more of an added bonus than our prime goal... what are we doing in the system?"

Nia has raised her voice to extend the question to the Bridge as a whole, since most of the others were actually on the ship for the start of the mission. She also flicks a glance to Kylah, waiting for confirmation of their course, before turning back to the main screen. Hopefully Singh'll keep Nia on the Bridge for their approach to the planet. A look at their destination would be nice.

Lt. JG Xiang smiles at Delaney and stands. "Thank you, Mr. Delaney. I stand relieved. Thanks for the update on that replicator. All's well on the Engineering front, except for an intermittent 2.3% phase variance in starboard nacelle warp coil 16a. I was just about to tell Main Engineering, although they've probably already noticed. Otherwise, nothing to report up here." Once he's seated, Delaney sees the phase variance confirmed on the EOSS and by nacelle internal sensors.

Xiang says "You're welcome, ma'am" to Onn and leaves the Bridge.

Kylah believes the Traffic Control officer is female. She confirms the coordinates which Kylah read back. Federation diplomatic protocol records, Kylah learns, indicate that the proper response to "All glory to First Citizen Vinre" is to say, "All glory for all time." It is apparently not really expected of offworlders, however.

Roble, hearing Onn's and Graham's discussion, says, "You're right, Mr. Graham, the Cavinre government hasn't attacked us. They're been providing police protection for the embassy, as required by treaty and interstellar law. Sometimes it's been heavy-handed and unnecessarily violent, in my opinion, but the crowds, or mobs if you will, have several times been very large... and very hostile."

Mäkeläinen, hearing this latest scuttlebutt about outbreaks of active violence, automatically starts thinking about how important it will be to have doctors on hand to deal with traumatic injuries and provide supplemental health care. He hopes there are some neutral parties on hand to organize things, because it does not sound like Federation assets can take part.

"Real Kobayashi Maru material," Graham grumbles. After a second, he realizes he said that out loud.

"Ah, yeah, about being the 'white hats.' If the embassy's seeing hostile crowds, then either we or the regime has lost control of the message, or the regime isn't doing us any favors in how they portray the Federation. And if the local authorities get overwhelmed, then we're potentially delivering force while sheltering the good who were just busting heads. Or if the locals bug out--maybe even strategically on purpose--we're really behind the eight ball on the ground."

He glances at Roble and then to Nia. "I'll prepare a briefing for Vargas--would be good to run down what if any contacts do we have in the opposition, who if anybody we can trust in local law enforcement, and, most important, how to evacuate the embassy in a hot minute."

The comlink on Graham's Security board sounds. "Mr. Graham, please report to me in my office," says the First Officer from belowdecks. Guzman waggles her eyebrows just a little, as if to say, Speak of the Devil!

The Science Officer seems not to notice this. He says to Lt. Antonov, "Check these latest readings against our earlier results, please, Mr. Antonov, and then you're free to go off-duty." The young Russian nods and leaves the Bridge. Roble then taps the Science 1 panel's comlink and says, "Ens. Baenre, report to the Bridge, please, to continue Lt. Antonov's asteroid-belt scans on the Science 2 station."

Nia is a little distracted by the phase variance news, but returns to pay close attention to Booker's remarks. She thanks him and is about to ask more when Vargas's order interrupts her. Controlling her urge to grit her teeth, she makes a little flourish with her hand toward the turbolift, elegantly inviting Book to attend to his quest.

With Science, Engineering and Security all getting subs, Nia returns to the Captain's chair, worrying that Singh'll be back any moment. If so, Nia decides she'd best take advantage of her temporarily heightened access level as BCDO to review any available logs from the past week. Something, anything, that'll explain to her frustrated brain exactly what in the name of Seht'dar's Holy Balls the Yorktown has been doing--or trying to do--on Cavinre VII.

Graham can't help but smile a little at Nia's gesture.

With a nod he heads to the turbolift.

It soon becomes apparent to Onn, from her review of the various logs to which she has access, that the Yorktown and her crew are meant to protect Federation citizens and interests in the Cavinre system, particularly the security of the embassy.

The turbolift whisks Graham away from the Bridge.

Ens. Haakon Kjaerstad soon arrives to take up Graham's post. The tall Norwegian nods at Onn, takes a seat and begins reviewing Security records.

Fingertips press against Nia's head, massaging her right temple. She's trying to figure out if she lost more braincells than she realized due to multiple days of near-suffocation. The docs would've told me, right? Deciding that yes, they would, and more to the point she wouldn't be trusted as BCDO if she were operating too far sub-nominal, she ponders a bit. How to phrase the question that might elicit the info she wants?

All she wants to know is what actual activity went on during the day or more the Yorktown spent in Cavinre's orbit. Shouldn't be so hard, but her mind's a blank and for whatever reason, everyone's acting like the visit never happened. Then, after a second or two of thought, she requests a report on any transporter activity to or from the ship and/or planet. And if so, who was in the landing party (or visitor group, if any came on board), and any notes if possible. At least she can find out who spoke to who.

If the data's guard-railed for some reason, I'll try and get a scoop from... maybe Pourtash? He's a good bloke and'd do me a solid. And obviously Ajay knows everything that goes on. The only better options are Cece Bennett, which...uh, no, not after their clash post-Novy Rostov*, or Ben Collins, who despite being the helmsman most likely to have been on Bridge Duty duing her absence, rates a fuck no, as the sole ex-lover on the crew Nia hasn't remained on good terms with.

She taps the report request at the console but--conscious of the current activity on the Bridge--she glances up at the Helm/Nav team. "How's our approach, Guzman? Leventhal? Getting through those coordinates well?" Nia then spots Kjaarstad and nods a welcome to him before returning her attention to her tiny screen.

* - See confontation in Mission #6, "Marala," specifically my & EH's posts #2260 - 70. Yeah, Nia started it, but Cecilla escalated!

Upon more closely examining the ship's records, Onn finds no indication of any transporter activity. Those who went to the planet's surface - including at various times the Captain, First Officer, Science Officer, Security officers and several others - first went by shuttle to the planet's sole space station, and then took the orbital elevator (or "beanstalk")* from there down to the surface. The Federation's treaty with Cavinre forbids the use of transporters except in emergencies. No Cavinre officials, personnel or citizens have come aboard the ship, it appears.

Guzman says, "All's well, Mr. Onn. Smooth as silk. We should be arriving in orbit within the hour."

Graham goes to Cmdr. Vargas's office and enters. its decor is as spartan as ever - empty bulkheads, a desk bare except for a datapad and a framed picture of an elderly couple, and behind it, the ascetic First Officer himself. He says, "Ah, Mr. Graham. Please sit down." After a few pleasantries he says, "The Captain will be returning to the surface shortly to confer with the Ambassador. I'd like you to lead the landing party that will accompany and guard her. While you're there, you're to evaluate Embassy security and then make recommendations for any necessary changes to the Captain and me upon your return. Who would you like to select?"


* https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Space_elevator

Graham resists the urge to groan or scowl, which Vargas would probably not appreciate.

All things considered he'd prefer a spell of leave or on-ship patrol after the last away mission.

But as ACOS it's far from an unreasonable request from the old man.

He squints and clears his throat. His first instinct is "all Security, all the time," but protocol demands a balanced party.

"Dr. Mäkeläinen, Ens. Baenre, Ens. Delaney." he says. "And Ens. Kylah."

He contemplates adding Rawlings, but decides the big guy deserves a break. Likewise, Onn - her piloting skills won't be needed, and as far as he's concerned the more time she has to rest and recover the better.

It would be fun to get the band back together by choosing his friend Ens. Faisal - but Security personnel deserve a chance to show their stuff. "Ens. St. Croix," he concludes, an officer he was impressed with in a previous mission.

Vargas nods thoughtfully. "I can see a good argument being made for all of those, Mr. Graham. Why Ens. Kylah in particular, though? She's had a very mixed record since her assignment to this ship, to put it mildly - including during your most recent mission."

Kylah taps a finger against her lip in thought, idly listening to the others while also keeping her earpiece pressed tight. The omnipresent hum of the engines, usually a white noise Kylah ignores, happens to be in the same 'key'--at least, she perceives it as a specific key, though one could just as easily select any tonic one wishes--as a tune she has had in her head all day. She starts humming subvocally, never letting her volume anywhere near the frequency of the ship's atmospheric sounds.

Hearing her own voice soothes her a little. Moments ago, she was triggered to sadness by the end of Mr. Antonov's watch, mainly because normally she would have expected Velir to return to the Bridge. But of course, that will not happen. Someone she does not know will shortly take his place. It is not really his place. It belongs to anyone in Science. But... She casts a long glance toward the seat where she has grown accustomed to finding her friend. I will always expect to see him there.

Her hum turns into a sigh, then she lets it vanish into the ether. Kylah fixes her posture by leaning her back against the chair, and with a tiny shake of her head, decides to do a little more background on the Cavinre people and political situation. The Mob planet is still relatively fresh in her mind* and she does not wish the Captain or whoever is visiting the planet to be caught in a faction war.

She knows she might be duplicating the work of whichever xenosociologist created the pre-mission reports for the Captain and team. But she wants to find out for herself. Her fingerpads tap swiftly on her panel as she performs some searches.

1) Under what form of government, if it resembles any from Federation history, does the largest percentage of the citizens live?

2) Who is in power, and how did they come to their position? Is this contested?

3) Are the protestors considered a formal opposition? Among them, who or what is the primary group or leader? What is the approximate division of those loyal to/happy with the current leadership vs. those seeking its overthrow? (Assuming they do, Kylah thinks to herself.)

4) What are the chief complaints most often cited by the protestors? What remedy do they seek?

5) Have there been any specific incidents that triggered the animus against the Federation, and our envoys in particular?

Kylah rereads her words and raises an eyebrow. Our envoys? A strange choice of pronouns. Claiming such community with the Federation does not yet feel right to her. And yet it came naturally enough to her fingers.

After a pause, she concludes with:

6) Name the envoys and chief staff. Is there any indication that they sympathize with one side or another?

With one last tap and another exhale, Kylah sends the questions to the Net and the Starfleet database to answer. Her glance makes its way to the Science chair beside Lt. Cmdr. Roble. She wonders what this unknown-to-her officer will be like.

Not a small Coridanite xenobiologist who loves mysteries, hamburgers, chess, and staring into her soul. That much is certain.

* But not well enough that she remembers the name of it, apparently.

The Doctor considers things for a moment, and accesses the library computer to familiarize himself with any pertinent information about medical providers and facilities on the planet. The Embassy may have some emergency medical technicians on staff, perhaps even a clinic, but what about serious cases? There must be some instructions meant for Federation staff naming whom to call, what hospitals are nearby, and who is running them. He also checks for general information about the tech level and availability to the populace of health care.

"Good to hear, Guzman," Nia says with a smile, although it lasts for only a second due to the curious information onscreen. She tilts her head and swivels her chair a bit to Roble. "Commander, is there a science-related reason the planet's so anti-transporters--some ecological objection, biological incompatibility, or whatever? Maybe transporting just gives them the creeps?" She lifts a hand before anyone misunderstands her.

"No judging if it does. My people are absolutely against it on almost a DNA level. In our case, there were some legit concerns about a power surge along the beam igniting our atmosphere, but mostly the whole concept offended some folks' beliefs, so..."

She gives a one-shouldered shrug. Can't really argue against faith. Fortunately, though a believer herself, Nia doesn't follow too many of her community's religious proscriptions.

Delaney says, "Oh, I would enjoy the chance to study the beanstalk a bit. I've read about them in exotic engineering class of course, but to see and ride one in person. Perhaps I could start a paper on it."

Checking Federation records, Kylah learns that the Cavinre Government is roughly comparable to the autocratic, dictatorial regimes of Stalin, Hitler, Mao and Khan from Earth's dark past, although not nearly as bloody. It holds sway over the entire planet. First Citizen Ylla Vinre is in charge, as she has been for almost thirty years since seizing power in a coup. Those who oppose the regime do so for two main reasons: objections to its discrimination against ethnic minorities, particularly the Bellun, and a wish for greater freedom for all the citizenry. The two main anti-government groups are the Bellun League and the People's Democracy Movement, although neither is a political party, as such; the regime permits only one party, Cavrinre Unity. There has been a long-running, low-level Bellun insurgency on the northern continent, Bellun'e, and occasional terrorist attacks, even in the capital, blamed on the Bellun.

The regime's own polls, such as they are, show broad public support for the government, of course. But in a declassified report from three years ago, Starfleet Intelligence estimated that about two-thirds of the population is, at least to some degree, unhappy with or outright opposed to the regime. There have been no specific incidents that have spurred hostility towards the Federation, other than that it is seen by the harshest critics of the regime as doing nothing to overthrow it - something it could not do in any event, of course, due to the Prime Directive.

Which envoys and chief staff does Kylah have in mind?

Dr. Mäkeläinen learns that there are about twenty major cities on the planet, each with its own hospitals and related facilities. Cavinre medicine badly lags behind Federation medicine, but the regime does not seem at all interested in trying to improve it (there are also widespread rumors that top officials privately receive offworld medical care out of the reach of the vast majority of the people). A single doctor and several medtechs are assigned to the small clinic on the Federation Embassy grounds.

Roble tells Onn, his disdain for the policy obvious, "The Cavinre Government's prohibition on transporter use is of a piece with its general practice of limiting contact with offworlders and maintaining control over just about every aspect of society. It doesn't stem from any cultural taboos or scientific objections, as far as I know."

From his own research, Delaney learns that there are seven beanstalks in this sector, and that all of them were built by the Cavinre people: the one in this system, which the Yorktown is now approaching, and one in each of the other six relatively-nearby systems which they have colonized.

He also sees, from sensors, that there are nine ships in orbit over the planet.

Graham clears his throat.

"Yes, sir, there's no doubt she got off to a rocky start. And that there continue to be ups and downs." He rubs his chin. "But I got off to a rocky start on this assignment too, and things once got so bad in my career that I got busted down in rank."

"Some good people didn't give up on me, or write me off, because I believe in the job and doing right by the Federation and what we stand for. I believe Ens. Kylah shares those values and that commitment."

He shakes his head. "I don't know how the hell to do the job of a communications officer, but all the ups and downs considered, it seems to me she also has talent. And if things get hairy, I'm inclined to place a bet on her rising to the occasion."

"I take your point," Cmdr. Vargas says after a moment. "Very well, Mr. Graham. You may proceed. Good luck. Dismissed."

Unconsciously, Kylah shakes her head at the unfortunate circumstances on this planet. Elas wins no prizes for perfect equality among its various peoples, but nothing like this...as far as she knows. She is--mildly--surprised that the Federation tolerates this leader and her activities, even if the planet assists with anti-piracy efforts. It does so at the price of the ideals for which her Academy instructors and fellow students felt such superiority.

She frowns at the computer's confusion at her question regarding the embassy staff, but realizes she was likely unclear. She puts it more straightforwardly: List the known staff at the Federation Embassy, with emphasis on the leading figures and upper administrative staff. Include any known political leanings or controversies regarding the situation on Cavinre.

With little to do until they receive any communications--or anyone needs to send anything that requires her attention--Kylah makes a quick summary of her research and forwards it to her personal notes. She has no doubt this information was already part of the research for the senior staff prior to their visiting the system in the first place, so does not bother making any formal report. It is more for her own edification. And, if she is being honest, for her uncle and his allies. Any weakness or disunity within the Federation and outsiders has always been Aldaan's primary area of interest, and thus her main assignment at his behest.

She thinks about the lack of leave. Well, she had some not long ago, on Beta Antares, so she cannot complain too much. Even if it were permitted, others would likely have had their turn planetside rather than her. It would not be very pleasant, regardless, to undertake such a respite when she would inevitably compare it to the near bliss she experienced on the last leave, on the boat and docks with Velir.

A happy shore leave, followed by a mission from which she escaped without grievous injury? Fairly miraculous, for Kylah.

Roble's explanation makes sense. As much as it can. "I'm sure their elevators give them a sense of comfort and control," Nia remarks with a wry smile. "With visitors willing to obey these restrictions. A truly dangerous fleet isn't gonna hesitate to transport wherever the hell they want. Still, I look forward to seeing their beanstalks. It never fails to astonish me how many different ways there are to design and engineer them."

She leans forward on her elbows, eyeing the main screen as if expecting to see the elevators at any moment. What she's really doing is envisioning the ancient, aborted versions they'd tried back home. Nia grimaces. The plans had been viable, the efforts laudable and plentiful. The goal: to furnish their rudimentary space station, something other planets' ships could use to safely deliver supplies without risking a perilous landing.

But Sidonia's atmosphere made the EVAs necessary to craft the damn things a near-suicide mission, and in any event, there just weren't enough acid-resistent building materials to spare on anything but shelter, cloud-seeding airships and communications beacons.

By the time she left Sidonia, only two relics of these attempts were left, corroded until they rose a pathetic 50 meters or so aboveground. Nia had climbed them as a young girl, just as she did any hills and stone formations she could find, always wanting to go higher. She learned to stay away once her explorations resulted in some ridiculously harsh punishments from her various contract holders. 'You plan to fly away from your duty?' one had mocked her as he'd shut her within his bedchamber. 'A bearer belongs on her back. Not in the clouds.'

Smirking, Nia looks at the vast array of stars ahead of her. "Do we indeed," she murmurs. Well, with her body almost done with that part of her life, she's certainly no longer bound by any such restrictions. Not that they had really stopped her before.

A flicker of curiosity brings her attention back to Roble. "So no one's tried to invade the system before? Something made them dislike outsiders."

Kylah learns that the Federation Ambassador is Delphine Ishimwe, and that her chief of staff and the Embassy's chargé d'affaires is Sarah Carson. The Starfleet attaché is Lt. Deng Minxia. The two diplomats are from Earth, while Lt. Deng was born on Ganymede Station. None has any known political leanings; each is regarded as a career officer and a professional. None have been drawn into any controversies of note, according to public records. There are currently about 80 on the Embassy staff. No Starfleet Intelligence officer appears on the staff roster, she notices, but it is possible that he, she, it or they are undercover.

Roble says, "I'm no expert on Cavinre history, Mr. Onn. I don't believe they've been invaded in recent history, but maybe a century or two back, or even longer."

The Bridge turbolift doors open and Capt. Sundri Parvinder Singh steps out.

Nia, still smiling in self-deprecating amusement at Roble's response, notices the turbolift doors' opening and the subsequent arrival of her commanding officer. She uncrosses her legs and rises, smile still in place but more respectful. "Captain," she says with a greeting nod. Mentally, she runs through the status report she'll provide once Singh asks.

Dr. Mäkeläinen interrupts his analyses and respectfully salutes the skipper. He pays attention to her mood, as well as to her words.

"Lt. Onn," the Captain says, nodding. "I relieve you. Report, please."

"Certainly ma'am. I stand relieved." Nia takes a deferential step from the central chair, allowing Captain Singh plenty of room to take her proper place. Hands now behind her back, Nia proceeds to share the fairly quiet proceedings since she took the Bridge--just an overview, since the other crew members such as Roble, Delaney, Lu and perhaps even Kylah can give the finer details if Singh wishes them.

Indeed, Nia does her best to spotlight each of the crew in a nonobtrusive but generous way to emphasize their good work. The smooth partnership of the Helm/Nav team as theyve neared their destination, the well-delivered instructions from Traffic Control that directed them to their current required route for a safe approach, Roble's enlightening information about the unusual materials among the asteroid belt, Graham's research having filled Nia in on some of the nuances regarding the troubles on the planet--info Nia acknowledges that is well known to Singh but was new to herself.

She briefly mentions the crew changes--Delaney for Xiang, Klaarstad for Graham due to Vargas's summons, and Baenre for Antonov, although she does a double-take when she notices that the latter swap hasn't taken place yet. Well, Baenre's still new; maybe she's lost. Then, saving the most concerning issue for last, she mentions the phase variance revealed by Xiang. "Ens. Delaney's probably already monitoring for any updates; he'll know more than I do, of course. Other than that, we're on schedule to reach the requested orbit at coordinates 67-0032445 in about an hour."

And that's it, really, unless she's forgetting something. She finished with another brief smile and a mute glance at Bizhi, eyes asking him if she's flaked out on anything she ought to have mentioned. Physically she's great, but her memory's still sketchy at times. Attention moving to the viewscreen, it then shifts only slightly to land on the Helm seat and Leventhal's position in it. Does the captain want Nia back where she belongs? Despite Nia's combo of impatience coupled with new insecurty, there's really no reason to uproot Leventhal, who''s doing an able job right now and should have the chance to take the ship into orbit. So she just hesitates in case Singh has different orders for her.

Graham finds his way to a comm console and issues a message: "This is Lt. Graham, ACOS. The following personnel are to muster for a shore-side landing party. Escorting Captain Singh. Repeat: Escorting Captain Singh. Dr. Mäkeläinen, Ens. Baenre, Ens. Delaney, Ens. Kylah, Ens. St. Croix. Further mission orders to follow."

The Captain, having already settled into the big chair, nods again and smiles at Onn. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Take the Helm, if you please."

Leventhal, hearing this, turns and smile at Onn, and rises from his seat.

Ens. St. Croix acknowledges Graham's message.

Each landing party member has one hour to attend to personal matters before reporting to Transporter Room 1.

Delaney gives and "Aye, Aye Sir" then calls for a relief on the bridge and does one last system check. Once relieved, he'll get his small tool belt to bring with him and musters.

Dr. Mäkeläinen gives Lt. Onn an incisive look, followed by the slightest of nods. She is fit for duty, but their recent experiences have taken more than a purely physical toll. There has not been much time since their last mission for them to meet outside a professional context. Before he has much of a chance to focus on her, though, his own preliminary orders arrive. They are not out of the blue, considering their arrival and all the related talk. He closes down the open tasks on his workstation in an orderly manner before calling for relief and leaving the Bridge to prepare for the mission.

It makes sense that Graham might tap him for this one, and Bizhi does not intend to make him regret his choice. He chooses not to pack a phaser, for a couple of reasons— this is not some wilderness adventure where it might serve as a tool, and, especially, it would be absurd for a physician to carry a weapon (not that one would do anyone much good if the party found themselves in the middle of a riot; he had better raise the possibility of emergency transport when he meets the Captain) while carrying out humanitarian duties in a tense factional powder keg, and he must not be perceived as a threat. What he does prepare to bring with him is extra medicine, and a couple of extra medkits he can donate to a civilian counterpart, the way he offered one to the suspicious and hostile Chalnoth. He recalls reading about the deliberately backwards state of medical care on the planet, and it galls him.

He taps out another message for his sister, playing up the exotic and strange marvels of the frontier, keeping the tone light. He is trying to be better about keeping in touch. However, if something did ever happen to him... would it not perhaps be better if he were less on their mind?

Quite absorbed in her research, Kylah does not even sense the Captain's arrival until just before she notices the woman is already back in her chair. That would normally be atypical indeed, but Kylah has been spending extra time with T'Var learning to protect herself from others' minds, especially after Velir's intense fits back on Ollos and the Doregg.

Lt. Graham's voice uttering her name startles her as well, albeit for a different reason. The last time he requested her presence on a mission, she shamed herself and disobeyed him. Due to his wedding following soon after, and then the disastrous flight on the Tesla, she never had a true opportunity to apologize for such insubordination. He never so much as upbraided her for her disrespect, kind to her as usual despite her failing to show up on the mission to save a painting from Novy Rostov's tragic end.

Perhaps he already knew Kylah has been well-and-truly punished and chastised for her behavior, forced to work exhausting double watches for a week, and bearing Cmdr. Vargas's acidic displeasure, finding new threats each time they met on the Bridge. First he warned her that she risked the loss of even her lowly single Ensign stripe, undeserving as she was to wear it given her lack of experience. Then the possible recriminations escalated to transfer from the ship, and finally even a court-martial.

Still, she could not deny deserving it all. Yet look how well Lt. Graham treated her during the trials of the most recent mission. He seemed quite pleased, perhaps even proud, of her efforts. Now he provides her with the opportunity to join a rather prestigious journey: escorting Captain Singh herself! She has never had that honor on her admittedly brief time on the Yorktown.

Not that Kylah would be doing any true escorting, but regardless. This is also a somewhat risky situation, and the protective, almost paternal demeanor Lt. Graham has displayed towards her makes his inviting her along a tremendous show of trust. Even respect.

Without hesitating too long, she responds to his order with a crisp, enthusiastic affirmative, and catches the eye of the others on the Bridge whom she will be joining. It strikes her that Mr. Delaney is also being shown forgiveness and trust, considering that the last mission they shared involved his nearly getting Lt. Graham and Kylah killed. If her superior can forgive such foolish, reckless behaviors from people such as Kylah and Mr. Delaney, Kylah must be equally grateful and match his graciousness. So she sends the handsome young engineer a little smile, whether or not he notices, and does the same to Dr. Mäkeläinen when she belatedly realizes he too was asked, deservedly so.

She contacts Lt. Thalen to ask whom he wishes to relieve her, and while awaiting a response, decides that before she leaves, she must visit Velir to let him know. Like Delaney, he may not notice her gestures or words, or even her soul trying to reach out to his. But leaving without saying farewell is simply not an option.

(If Thalen returns her hail and picks a relief Comms officer, Kylah will turn to the Captain and ask permission to leave the Bridge once her replacement arrives, of course. They are nearing a planet, and while others currently on the Bridge can certainly perform her basic duties, the delicacy of the situation on the planet makes her wish to treat communicating with Traffic Control with the gravitas it deserves.)

Graham makes it a point to find Marala. After the last away mission, she deserves to hear about his next assignment first-hand--and express how she might feel about it.

Especially since as far as Graham is concerned, he's more worried about something going South on this one than the freak accident that derailed the last.

Satisfied with Singh's decision, Nia grins back at Leventhal with a soft "good job" of gratitude, then happily sits down beside her favorite navigator to work with--who just happens to be one of her BFFs. She and Lu are almost always in sync as partners. It strikes her that not only is it her first time in the pilot's seat since the Tesla crash, but she hasn't seen Luisa since she got back. So she murmurs a playful, "Honey, I'm home," which is some ancient Earth joke that usually gives the humans a smile.

As she scans the console to ensure that the Yorktown's status and journey are as they should be--no reason they've changed since the last Helm Officer kept the seat warm, but it's her job to check--Nia makes a tiny adjustment in the chair's leaning position. Tall as she is, she ain't Leventhal.

Then Book's voice crackles in the air, and Nia's head lifts in pleased surprise. A muster, so soon? Good, he's getting the C.O. role; going down to a planet like this requires your best. The names of his team continue, no real surprises--Kylah, natch--and it's only when he emphasizes that this is a Captain escort that Nia realizes that he's finished listing his chosen team. And that the tiny swell of disappointment and even embarrassment tells her she's been waiting to hear that deliciously familiar voice saying, "N--Lt. Onn."

Damn her stupid unconscious mind and its stupider out-of-date expectations. There was no chance. Vargas probably didn't even have to tell Book not to select her; it's just common sense and a reflection of reality. Maybe she was once Singh's favorite shuttle pilot, but even if that esteem were still in place (dubious), no one merely a week after a crash is getting the gig to chauffeur the frickin' captain. Plus Nia's barely recovered physically, and hasn't quite done so, mentally.

And disregarding all that, not to mention how...awkward...things remain between her and Book, the simple truth is, Nia's recent spate of off-ship activity is atypical of her two years' experience on the Yorktown. With extra blots on her copybook, things'll probably go back to normal.

Hmph. Fine. Certainly no dishonor to be on your Bridge, she mentally addresses the Yorktown--as if the ship's the one who needs the reassurance. Besides, I wanted to go swimming later. Priorities, girl. Her smile returning, if a little sad around the eyes, Nia dismisses her demons and puts full focus into following the orders from Traffic Control.

Lt. Granai, a Tiburonian female and a Life Support and Environmental Systems specialist, arrives to relieve Delaney, while Ens. Nell Carmichael, a Human female medic, does the same for Dr. Mäkeläinen. Lt. Thalen himself comes up from belowdecks and takes over the Communications station from Kylah, quietly thanking her.

With a nod from the Captain, Ens. Horst Leventhal leaves the Bridge after Onn takes the Helm. Onn sees that the Yorktown is maintaining course and speed to Cavinre VII.

In their quarters, Graham's wife Marala takes him into her arms. "Leaving me again, are you?" she teases him.

Members of the landing party now have slightly less than an hour to attend to any personal matters before leaving.

Hugging her datapad to her chest, Kylah thanks Lt. Thalen and steps lightly down to the turbolift. If she has under an hour, she would like to freshen up, but also wishes to visit Velir and perhaps take a moment to write her uncle back. Of course, she does not know how long they will be on the planet. It is unlikely they will sleep down there, with the ship in orbit, so she need not think of packing. Although if there is to be some kind of diplomatic function... Her mind wanders before she scoffs at herself. She is there representing Starfleet, and her uniform is likely all that is required.

If Dr. Mäkeläinen and Ens. Delaney are with her in the lift, she Will engage in brief conversation--if they are amenable; perhaps they are preoccupied--and heads to Deck 7. She will take care of some basic ablutions and make sure her curls are relatively tame and professional (though still loose, as Velir's reactions to her in the past have taught her that he seems more comfortable with her more simple appearance instead of the more formal, made-up and coiffed style she prefers). Perhaps the effort is useless, as he will be blind to her in his unconscious state. But Kylah will not submit to the possibility that it is all for nought. When she takes a final look in the mirror, she catches a glance of the Vulcan lute case placed reverently on her dresser.

The sight evokes her Uncle again. I will write him this evening, she thinks with some guilt when she scurries out of her quarters and this time heads straight to Sick Bay.

For a moment, Graham can imagine everything is and has always been fine.

That his first love of Marala had carried through to adult life without a hitch of a bump.

So much stronger than he was as a teenager, he sweeps her off her feet.

"Not for long," he says. Then he kisses her.

He holds it a long time - as long as Marala is willing.

And then we'll--we'll what? Plan. Make believe. Pretend.

Pretend I can let go of Jane.

Or of Nia.

Or that Marala deserves better than me and always has.

"If Nikolai's away, we have time..." His hands find her curves. "Time before I go, for us to..."

"For me to show you how beautiful I always thought you were," he says, one hundred percent honestly. There's no equivocating or denying that.

One small truth in a world where so much went wrong.

Alodia opens her eyes and exhales a deep breath. She slowly stands up from the mat on the floor of her quarters, rolls it up and returns it to a storage compartment. She has always appreciated having time before away missions to practice her meditations to center herself. This mission in particular required some additional mental preparation as it is her first since her transfer to the Yorktown. This ship is much bigger and much more crowded than the Hermes-class scouts she has previously served on. From the reports she had read, it promised to be quite a lot busier than the almost leisurely exploration and cataloguing of stellar objects and phenomena she was used to. Violaceans are natural diplomats and extroverts. Those traits had clearly skipped her in the genetic lottery.

As she finishes her preparations her thoughts turn to the planet they are approaching. Cavinre VII, she thinks to herself. I just can't understand why the Federation would align itself with such a repugnant world. But then, as Mother always says: nations don't have friends, they have interests. Alodia had always had a distaste for the nuances of intergalactic politics. The universe is so vast and plentiful yet so many still insist on subjugating others for their own benefit.

She goes to the altar on the floor where she had been meditating, snuffs out a small candle, then sighs. She stands again, pats herself on the hips, then picks up her away mission kit. "Alright then, Alodia," she says to herself. "Allons-y!"

With that she heads out into the corridor and makes her way to the nearest turbolift on her way to meet the rest of the landing party.

Marala grins at her husband, and returns his caress. "As it happens, Nikki is visiting an Engineering friend belowdecks and learning more about the antimatter storage pods. I expect he'll be at least another hour." She takes Graham's hand and leads him to the bedroom. "So let's put this time to good use, shall we...?"

Ens. Alodia Baenre arrives in Transporter Room 1 early. No one else is there yet except Transporter Chief Binh Nguyen, an older Vietnamese man, who is standing behind the control console. He looks up. "Hello, Ensign," he says in a friendly way. "I don't believe we've met before."

Dr. Mäkeläinen is wearing a blue [mutatis mutandis] Starfleet Medical field uniform, which he has adorned with whatever neutral local symbol he could find, if any, representing medicine. He looks neat, businesslike, alert, and (he hopes) approachable. The steel in his eyes, for now, lies dormant.

He has regularly been seeing Velir Rangin on his regular rounds, but he will not be there now except to prepare and gather the medical supplies for the mission. If Kylah spots him running in, he is amenable to brief conversation though he needs to concentrate on what he is doing; there will be more time to chat later. (About Rangin, specifically, there is not much he can tell her at this time that she does not already know.)

He does not head early to the Transporter Room, instead making a final stop in his quarters. A cup of strong tea. A message sent. A moment of calm.

Sickbay is far, far too familiar to Kylah for her to even feel the little thrill of nervousness that has always accompanied her when near medical facilities and personnel. Mostly, however, those visits were to fix her, repair her, prod and examine and investigate. Or, sadly, she was visiting someone else, alive or dying or dead.

Velir is not dead or dying. He is not. Wiping the thought from her mind, she nods pleasantly at the crew she meets in the outer room, including a rushing Dr. Mäkeläinen. His focus is manifest, and Kylah does not wish to interrupt him. She just says a knowing, "I hope this is exciting rather than overwhelming, Doctor. I know when I returned from my first mission, I did not expect to jump onto another so quickly. We were fortunate enough to have a brief shore leave. That is how Velir and I..."

Her hand gestures limply toward the private room area, then returns to clasping the other. "Anyway, I do hope this will be a more fair representation of the duties you will perform with the Yorktown. The circumstances on the shuttle alone were extraordinary, much less on Ollos and beyond."

Sensing his urgency, she apologizes and tells him she will see him soon. She then looks around to find a crew member to ask permission to visit Velir. T'Var would most likely allow her, if the patient is not in crisis. And Carlos would as well... I think. For a moment she closes her eyes, trying to feel anything unusual that might indicate anything troubling.

Luisa's silence makes Nia give her a quick side-eye, wondering if her friend's okay. Is she upset? She didn't stop by during Nia's recovery, which was unusual. Giya might know what's up. Until I find out, I'd better not tell her I talked her up a bit with Double-T. Or maybe she knows and that's why she's pissed off? Seems dubious, but stranger things happen in space.

The changing personnel can't escape Nia's keen notice, and she offers a pleased grin to Thalen. The rest aren't super-familiar to her--and, likely, they don't know her either. Unless they can see her scales and realize oh that's the lizard lady, she's likely anonymous. Probably for the best. If they're aware of how brilliantly she flew her last mission, they might be less than comfortable seeing her at the helm.

The Yorktown handles itself beautifully, as it does 99.5% of the time Nia's ever been aboard, and she has little to do right at the moment. A question piques her curiosity, and she turns her head slightly to see if Singh is busy. If so, Nia will wait. If not, Nia will address her while returning her focus where it belongs. "Ma'am, as you're heading back down to the planet, will--"

She stops herself, a little surprised by the nerve of her near-question. Will you give me command again? It's not so much that she's dying for a much longer watch. She's tired and the pool lanes beckon. But she likes command. And even more to the point, she wants to know if Vargas will be ensconced here instead, glaring phaser beams into her back.

Without missing a beat, Nia alters the question. "Will you be gone long? If it's not breaching security to ask," she adds, lightly stating the obvious. "Just wondering whether you and your escorts have been remaining on the planet during your visits, or if you've able to return here rather than deal with whatever accommodations they have dirtside."

For a while, Graham accepts the premise that Marala is not only happy, but happy to be with him and affirmatively made all the more so by their tryst.

It nags at him afterwards as he gets dressed that the gist of his comments are that he'll be back soon.

Not that he has any specific reason to doubt it - but after the last mission, he wonders if he's been honest enough about--

Then he wonders if he's thinking about the actual level of risk involved in Starfleet operations or his own pessimism.

With that still on his mind, he heads to the transporter room intending to ensure he has enough time to check in with each member of the team and double-check all the equipment.

A nurse shows Kylah in to see Lt. JG. Velir Rangin, who is resting, motionless but apparently comfortable. The Sickbay biobed's readings look normal, as far as she can tell.

Thalen smiles back at Onn, then turns to his console and inserts his chromed earpiece.

Lt. JG Luisa Guzman, to Onn's right at Navigation, apologizes. "Sorry, I missed your comment. I'm a little distracted. Some recent bad news from home, unfortunately."

The Captain tells Onn, "I expect we'll be dirtside for just a few hours." A Science rating brings her a datapad, which she quickly reviews, signs and hands back. "I don't expect it to be an overnight visit, but if it is, we'll stay at the Embassy."

Marala kisses Graham goodbye and sends him on his way. In the Transporter Room, he finds only Ens. Alodia Baenre and Transporter Chief Binh Nguyen at the moment.

He does not want his family and friends to spend too much of their time thinking about him. Then, logically, that should go both ways, Dr. Mäkeläinen muses.

With the spare first aid supplies he prepared in addition to his Starfleet medical field kit, he is approaching the limits of encumbrance for a brief landing. He looks at the small pouch holding the field kit, but there is no practicable way to stuff any personal items nor reserve supplies in there. If the mission parameters change, he will have to resupply from the Embassy clinic. No call for Bilitrium this time, at least, something that still bothers him for overlooking it for his off-ship mission with Lt. Onn. He makes sure he has his trusty medical tricorder, of course.

Hydrated and caffeinated, he heads to the Transporter Room perfectly composed, making sure he is not late.

Kylah does not know if Velir can hear or sense her. She doubts he will be able to communicate either verbally or emotionally. And yet, she closes the gap between herself and his figure on the biobed, and takes hold of his hand. It seems paler than usual, and certainly colder. But she suspects it is only the circumstances that give her this impression.

As she has done since their return, she greets him with words and through silence, aiming the full measure of her affection for him. Her wishes for his comfort are expressed, as ever, as is the question of whether he knows she is here. Staring down at him, Kylah bites her lip for a few seconds before leaving the unfortunately familiar territory.

"I can only stay for a moment. We have almost reached the planet--Cavinre VII, do you remember?--and a small group will accompany the Captain down to..." She furrows her brow. She does not actually know what they are doing other than escorting her, nor where they are going. "To the Embassy," she improvises. Her fingers interlock with his. "You have been onboard longer than I. But it is my first mission in the Captain's presence. I hope I do not bring shame to her. Things are apparently very unpleasant down there; Starfleet is no more liked there than we were on Ollos."

Kylah winces and shakes her head at herself. Why bring up something so harrowing? Her left hand joins her right in caressing his hand, and she concentrates even harder to make sure he is not distressed before she continues.

Rangin does not respond to Kylah's touch for a long time... until finally, ever so slightly, so gently that she almost thinks she may have imagined it, his fingers tighten on hers and then, at once, relax.

Graham, Dr. Mäkeläinen, and Ensigns Baenre, Delaney and St. Croix gather in the Transporter Room. Chief Nguyen distributes communicators and phaser-1s. If you wish to take along a tricorder, you may get one from him.

Seconds later, Capt. Singh strides in, having left the Chief Engineer in command on the Bridge. She sees the local symbol representing medicine (a stylized seven-petaled flower) which Dr. Mäkeläinen found and placed on his blue Medical tunic. "What's that, Doctor?" she asks with a slight frown.

After a sharp intake of breath, Kylah does not move for several seconds, hoping she did not just imagine Velir's activity--infinitesimal as it was. ""You do hear me?" she exhales at last. "I will stay with you, as long as it takes, if you will just give me a sign--"

The sudden recollection of her duty causes a tiny moan of frustration. If Velir has truly communicated with her, she must stay here! This matters more important than an escort mission where she cannot fathom playing any significant role. Except... she has already let Lt. Graham down before, the last time he chose her for a mission. True, then she truly had to stay, to save two lives. Now, she would be risking court-martial only for her own reassurance.

Swallowing, she bends down nearer to the pillow. "Please forgive me, dearest. I am in danger of being late. I must say goodbye for now." Her gaze searches his face miserably. "It will be my first mission without you. I--I do not like the feeling." Vision blurring, she quickly blinks before she risks tainting him with her tears, then lifts her shoulder to wipe any dampness from her cheek. The kiss she bestows is feather-light.

"I will be back soon. And you will get better," she murmurs with her lips pressed against his temple. "We will have other missions together. And, I hope, many more times to be as we were, at the nightclub."

The heat rising in her face could possibly warm him too, when she recalls how fervently their mouths explored each other in that private room. And now she risks crying again, overwhelmed by despair at the thought of never knowing anything further with this man. She straightens and steps away.

"Be well, my heart. I do not know if you are dreaming... But if you can dream, dream of us in the Black Sun. Before Mr. Rawlings' interruption," she hastens, smiling despite herself. "No. The boathouse, back on Beta Antares. Our day together, there. It was perfect. We will have that again, I promise."

She wavers at having made such a promise, one that she cannot fathom how to help fulfill. With another smile that is both insincere and undoubtedly unseen, Kylah turns to leave for the mission. It is impossible to resist another tiny pause, again hoping she can sense something from him. But the thought of Lt. Graham's having to hail her again--even just having to doubt her momentarily--forces her from the room, fairly flying toward the transporter room.

It's been about a half hour since Nia expressed discreet concern for Luisa, offering to have one of their hangout sessions whenever/wherever her friend chooses...whether Lu wants to talk, meditate, listen to music or just drink. Since then, Nia divided her mind between helm activity and speculating on what might be Luisa's troubling news.

When she heard Singh hail Cheverez, Nia's shoulders slumped. The captain picked the one BCDO option that--for Nia, personally--is even worse than Vargas.

Now, with the Chief in the big chair behind her, Nia sits up straight and rigid, avoiding eye contact and conversation. Fortunately, the former's easy, given their positions. But as for the latter... the truth is, normally the two have a pretty collegial rapport, with their interests and humor aligning pretty well. He's always seemed appreciative of her "extracurricular" contributions to the engineering team. They've had many enjoyable conversations and companionable silences during late nights tinkering with things, particularly the Tesla.

She hasn't spoken to him nor been back to Engineering since the accident. She doubts she'll be asked for some time, and--if she maintains the sanity granted to her by Sid'Os--she sure as hell won't be asking for an invite.

Her hands move expertly over the controls, when necessary. Otherwise she is silent and still. If only her scales were capable of such sophisticated camouflage patterns as the ever-changing colors of the helm panel, she'd be invisible, too.

Mäkeläinen notes the new, as well as the familiar, faces, and very briefly greets the others when he arrives. He accepts a communicator from the petty officer, but declines to take a phaser. He has brought his own tricorder, which is a medical tricorder (one with sensors and software set up especially for medical diagnosis, compared to a standard-issue sciences tricorder), since he was not expecting to be supplied with one without having asked for it in advance, nor would he like to trust one he had not checked himself.

It is not unexpected that the Captain has lasered in on the foreign insigne which cannot but be prominent on his blue tunic, but she still catches him off guard. They say it is better to ask forgiveness than permission, but surely this is only a wee bit irregular? He explains, "This is the local symbol of medicine. Like the, er, rod with a serpent around it on Earth. I looked into it, and medical facilities in the cities, and elsewhere on the planet, are primitive--- not in a good way--- and inadequate. If we step out of the Embassy, well, even without the hostile audience, my role should be clearly visible in that case. Considering current events, I have brought extra medical supplies, and it is not out of the question we will want to share them, or be compelled by humanitarian principles to render assistance to any injured."

Graham greets Chief Nguyen warmly, the transporter officer having earned a solid place on "people you can count on" in his book.

He's glad to see Mäkeläinen, although he's less than thrilled that the Captain might take exception to his modification of the standard uniform--although as far as he's concerned, the doctor's explanation holds up.

But - no Ens. Kylah....

Rangin does not respond to Kylah again before she quickly leaves Sickbay.

On the Bridge, Lt. JG Guzman smiles gratefully and says to Onn, "Yes, thanks, let's talk when we go off-duty. Maybe some coffee, or something stronger...?"

The Captain thinks a moment and says, "Not a bad idea, Doctor, but I'd prefer you make no modifications to the regulation Starfleet uniform. Please stow that insignia in your medikit, or leave it behind. I'm sure Chief Nguyen can keep it for you until we return, if you like."

About a minute later, Kylah arrives in the Transporter Room, slightly out of breath. Everyone turns to look at her. The Captain says, "Ah, there you are, Mr. Kylah! I think our party is now complete."

Though Kylah softly begs the Captain's pardon for her tardiness, her most sincere apologetic gaze is aimed at Lt. Graham. I would not desert you again, she tries to assure him via her expression. Of course, just as she was unwilling to tell Velir that her mission is being headed by the ACOS, neither is Kylah planning to excuse herself by explaining the visit that delayed her. She just nods humbly and turns to retrieve a phaser. She has a datapad and that is as far as her technological needs go--always excepting her communicator, that most precious of items. If she can keep possession of it for two minutes together.

Dr. Mäkeläinen seems to have earned some minor attention, which perhaps does not please him? Kylah cannot really discern his emotions, especially since his face reserves its expressions. She knows Delaney and St. Croix, of course, but the most obvious person to catch her eye is the Violacean science officer, Ens. Baenre.

Kylah has not met one of her kind before, and it is hard not to be a little dazzled by the extraordinarily pretty skin color. One of Kylah's favorite dresses is of a similar shade, but of course, mere dyed clothing cannot be as striking as a humanoid form. She smiles a little at the newcomer--new to Kylah, at least, who realizes she does not know precisely when the other woman boarded. There have been few opportunities to meet many from Stellar Cartography, or indeed Science officers in general. Mostly just Velir and a literal shipload of medical personnel.

Avoiding too long a study of the other Ensign, Kylah whips her attention back to Captain Singh. Are they going to have a briefing here, or on the shuttle? Will they even be traveling by shuttle? She is embarrassed by how little she knows of this mission's particulars, so she primarily focuses on looking curious and, above all, not ignorant.

Ens. Kylah seems to intentionally catch his eye as if to apologize for being late.

He nods amiably - all things considered, as far as he's concerned, she ought to be more worried about the Captain, and as far as he can tell she's not put out by her late arrival--fortunately.

He clears his throat. "Ah, Captain, if I might--"

"Our first priority is escorting the captain, but we are also to offer any insight into securing the embassy. Obviously, there's a Security point of view relevant to that, but we're a cross-functional team, and everyone has expertise to offer - Science (he nods to Baenre), Engineering (he nods to Delaney), Medical (he does the same to the doctor), and Comms (and to Kylah). If you see something, say something, don't be shy."

After a brief but cordial greeting with Chief Nguyen, Alodia does a final check on her away kit confirming all is as it should be. She feels somewhat awkward arriving early and small talk has never been her strong suit. I suppose I ought to take some time so get to know my crew mates now that I'm settled onboard, she thinks to herself. But it's so much easier to get along with star charts and PADDs. She brings herself back to the task at hand, collecting and stowing the proffered communicator and phaser. She takes a tricorder as well and tests it.

As the rest of the away team arrives she greets them politely in turn. Getting the feeling she's being watched, she turns to meet the smile of Ens. Kylah. This is the part where you're supposed to be charming, Alodia, she reminds herself. Switching from her default "neutral observation mode," as she calls it, she returns the other young woman's smile.

Bizhi is not about to argue with or gainsay the Captain. He smoothly unhooks the flower insignia from his uniform, to which it was affixed without injuring the fabric, and stows it in the depths of his medkit, where it will neither be visible nor get mangled.

He gives the frazzled Kylah an affable look of recognition when she runs in.

They may be here to escort the Captain, but it is still not clear to him what the Captain's real mission is, why it requires such a multi-disciplinary team (as Lt. Graham has pointed out), nor how much they will be told of what is truly going on. Experts in science and engineering? He looks at them again, thinking.

Ens. Baenre finds that her tricorder is functioning just fine.

Capt. Singh nods to Kylah. "Quite all right, Ensign. You're right on time." After Graham's remarks, she says, "Thank you, Mr. Graham." To the rest of the party, she says, "We'll be beaming over to the Cavinre space station, and then taking the orbital elevator - the beanstalk - down to the surface from there. We'll be met on the space station by the Embassy's Starfleet attaché and, I expect given past experiences, someone from the Cavinre Foreign Ministry." She smiles wryly. "Cavinre being Cavinre, you should presume this person is a spy. You should also presume everything you say and do until we're actually inside the Embassy is being observed and very likely recorded. Say and do nothing that would embarrass me or you, or do a disservice to the Federation, if it were seen by the regime's leadership. Once we're safely inside the Embassy, I'll meet with the Ambassador while you receive a briefing and then assist Mr. Graham in his review of the Embassy's security. Any questions?"

Though she has a couple of questions, Kylah knows they are not in her purview and will be better addressed by one of the Security officers. She is disinclined to speak at the moment, anyway, and keeps her reddened face tilted down at the datapad. Her history of conflicts and poor choices that became the source of much ugly gossip is all too familiar to the Captain, and so the warnings against being an embarrassment are, if not wholly aimed at Kylah, certainly not unintended for her. Conflicts with the Sakthians, the Hwuen, Lord Fastolfe, the gangs on Sigma Iotia, and, to be honest, Terrans of all stripes incluing on her own ship; she does not have a good track record for keeping her reputation free of disgrace.

At least I mostly stayed out of trouble among the Uwat and Chalnoth. I have learned my lesson, she promises silently. More a prayer than a promise, although she has no spiritual beliefs. Her strategy will be straightforward enough, if belatedly learned: keeping as inconspicuous as possible.

Graham shakes his head. In point of fact, he has a lot: in an ideal world, he would have gotten a briefing from whoever was in charge of Federation security dirtside prior to this mission, including the latest intel, the transportation arrangements for getting to the embassy, and the ins and outs of what to worry about in transit.

But that's a moot point and water under the bridge now.

Mäkeläinen thinks the beanstalk sounds quaint. A slower pace... seems like a simple shuttle would be quicker? He understands from the conversations earlier that the main point of the 'stalks is to control access to and from the surface, but how easy is it to trace a tight-beam transport or cloaked shuttlecraft? It is only law-abiding, non-rich citizens that would not have access to a better mode of transport, any more than they would to a state-of-the-art hospital.

Dealing with everyone being a spy at least beats playing games with Romulan operatives. As a doctor, he is not particularly worried about becoming a target for the regime's machinations, but, under the circumstances, he is under no illusion that outside the Embassy he will have free movement or unrestricted access to patients.

"How long is the trip down?" he asks. "We may want to bring a pack of cards, or find a safe topic for discussion. Trends in Algolian infra-pop?"

Nia continues to guide the Yorktown to its programmed destination, continually glancing at her panel to track their distance and ETA. To Luisa, she bobs her head. "Something stronger for me ain't the same as it is for you. I think it'd take some of Orion's most notorious illicit goodies to affect me the way 'something stronger' affects you humans. It's just filtered water far as my system goes." She softens her voice even further, though she was barely audible already. "But it's not about me. We'll go wherever you want, hon."

Guzman says quietly, "Sounds good, thanks."

Onn guides the Yorktown to its appointed position, high over the planet, and confirms that the ship is in a stable orbit. Lt. Cmdr. Edgardo Cheverez, the Chief Engineer, sees this. He nods, leans back in the big chair and says, "Thank you, Mr. Onn. And now we wait."

Thalen adjusts the main viewscreen to show the Cavinre space station directly ahead. Four other starships can be seen in orbit nearby; another two are docked with the station.

The Captain smiles at Dr. Mäkeläinen's suggestion. "I know nothing about that topic, Doctor, so perhaps you could educate me... or all of us. In any event, the trip takes about half an hour." She looks around. "All right, let's go."

The landing party steps up onto the transporter platform and you each take a spot on one of the six evenly-placed duranium discs embedded in the deck. "Energize," the Captain says.

Everyone feels the familiar tingling and disorientation as Chief Nguyen and the Transporter Room fade from view. When your vision returns you find that you're standing in a slightly larger oval space, with a low ceiling and dark, scuffed floor underfoot. The room is drab except for a wide, larger-than-life portrait of First Citizen Vinre which fills the opposite wall; she is an older woman with hooded eyes, snow-white hair and an expression somewhere between confident and glowering.

There are four people in the room: a Cavinre official, an older man in a severe, dark gray uniform, and a young Asian woman in the teal, gold-trimmed dress uniform tunic, gold aiguillette,* black pants and shiny black boots of a Starfleet officer attached to the Federation Diplomatic Corps. The other two people are guards of indeterminate gender; they carry ugly-looking blast rifles and are wearing angular black body armor, including helmets and masks.

The Cavinre official steps forward and gives a slight bow. "Welcome back to Cavinre, Capt. Singh. We're glad to see you again." Kylah doesn't think he either looks or sounds especially sincere.

"We are indeed," says the Starfleet officer, smiling, and much more warmly. You know she must be the Starfleet attaché, Lt. Deng Minxia, which the Captain confirms when she makes introductions all around.

The silent guards are not introduced.


* https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aiguillette

The Doctor greets the persons to which he is introduced, including the attaché, with a practiced blandness coming from experience meeting strings of forgettable people during official functions and receptions, not that there is anything for him to give away or be caught out on. If the guards scrutinize him, he presents them the same perfunctory acknowledgement.

Graham waits for the captain's lead, simply nodding politely if and when it's appropriate.

Mental note: inquire at the Embassy about the impact, if any, of the body armor on phaser effectiveness.

And--he has to resist shaking his head. The long guns strike him as at best unnecessary, but more likely a hindrance in tight spaces. He wonders about the balance between "for show" and efficacy or pragmatism he can expect from the local security forces.

But with that said, the guards aren't adversaries and he wouldn't mind a chance to hear things from their perspective if the chance arises at some point.

As the disorientation from the transporter fades, Kylah's first true vision of her environment is... her grandmother? She inhales and blinks until her eyesight and mind are clear. Of course it is not Madam Ditraa. It is a painting, and of the First Citizen, no less. Not Elasian, not dark-haired, and without the large, fierce brown eyes that ran--run--throughout her mother's family line.

And yet, something made Kylah's thoughts leap beyond rationality to the memory of her grandmother. A shared expression and posture, perhaps. Entitlement? Superiority? Pride? The ability to appear vaguely threatening while simultaneously compelling. Kylah is surprised this image should spark such a tug of nostalgia for home, and even more surprised that she is grateful for it. She would very much like to meet this leader.

Tearing her eyes away from the portrait--she is being terribly rude--she turns while pondering the First Citizen's name. So similar to the planet, it cannot be coincidence. She tries to recall anything from her research that might have indicated if this is a familiy name or--

All musing stops when she sees the guards. More accurately, their fearsome weapons. How were they not the first things to catch her attention? Instinctively she whisks her gaze away, directing it to where it belongs: their hosts, and, particularly, the official approaching and greeting them. She has been among enough royal, Council and various governmental figures to recognize insincerity in the guise of cordiality.

Aldaan excelled at such performances. Indeed, she has played the role herself. And so with rare ease, she acts as required, lowering her head in acknowledgment of the generous welcome. She does return the smile of the Starfleet envoy, but of course remains silent. She has one stripe on her sleeve; no tenuous link to a ruling family in a tiny planet lightyears away matters a jot.

The doctor notices that the guards seem to look upon you all with equal passivity.

The Cavinre official, Deputy Assistant Foreign Minister Rul Gorra, leads you from the room, chatting with the Captain, and with an attentive Lt. Deng close behind. The guards silently follow your group. You go down a long hallway and into a large and open plaza, with a high ceiling and circular dome. Cavinre VII fills the dome; massive, beautiful, green and white and blue, swirled with clouds and looking much like Earth. The plaza is about half full, with people coming and going from the shops and offices around its perimeter. Most are natives, in clothing of muted or dark shades. A few of them glance at you but then quickly look away.

There are a few aliens here and there in the crowd, as well; Graham notices a Tellarite from across the large room, an Edoan with a large, oblong bag, and two Rigellians in diplomatic tunics.

Mäkeläinen would rather think of the guards as persons rather than menacing bits of décor, but he is not about to chat them up, either. It is not just the guards, though; does he really want to make small talk with the Cavinrian minister, or other diplomats, without even knowing what Starfleet is here to do? He is perfectly up to the task, of course, and, if asked what he is doing here, can easily discuss how he is going to take a look at the Embassy clinic, and fill time explaining minutiae of sourcing various pharmaceuticals. If it were up to him, he would purchase a drink at a cafe and interact with some of the locals, but he would spare the possibly innocent bystander the subsequent chat with secret police.

He turns to the crystalline dome and admires the view. Such a paradise— it could be. Those from such Edens seldom fully appreciate what they have.

After a few moments, he casually inserts himself into the Captain's conversational circle, attempting to follow what she and the diplomats are saying, and not saying.

The plaza is a pleasant change from the drab arrival area, and Kylah peers around curiously. She is still aware of the guards, but it is not unusual for dignitaries to be thus accompanied, so she just focuses on their surroundings. The stores--can she see any in particular likely to catch her eye?--trigger the desire to buy something, or even simply to browse at new and engaging local items. Neither is an option now, as she is well aware, but it seems a long time since she had the fun of a shopping excursion. Searching for civilian clothes at that dreadful market back on Ollos certainly did not count.

The possibility of actually pausing to explore the local shops is a forlorn hope, so she does not indulge it too long. Kylah's attention is dragged to the Captain when the Doctor moves closer to their conversation. Lt. Deng seems intent upon Capt. Singh and Minister Gorra (or Rud, if that is the way he would be properly addressed), so Kylah does not wish to interrupt her by initiating a discussion. She glances at the others to see what is capturing their focus.

Realizing that the locals are quite noticeably trying to avoid seeming curious, Kylah purses her lips in disapproval before smoothing her expression into one much friendlier. Let them see the group as nonthreatening. Meanwhile she concentrates lightly on sensing any unusual emotional activity nearby. All she expects would be some piqued interest, nervousness, mild hostility--given the disdain for the Federation--along with numerous random emotions involving their current activities. The people on the station have their own concerns and pursuits that have nothing whatever to do with the visitors.

Graham surveys the area for ingress and egress, noting where they came from and any signs that would help them navigate if push came to shove (or as the saying goes, the shit hit the fan).

He's careful to maintain a non-aggressive demeanor and not to stare too long at any one place or person - especially the latter. The locals seem skittish.

The view through the dome is quite striking. The shops and stores around the plaza are mostly for Cavinre products, Kylah sees, although a few high-end Federation brands are represented: Supernova clothing, Deliciosa fine foods, Tiffany & Co. jewelry and Ebony2 computers, among others. Kylah gets mixed and fleeting psi impressions from passersby, mostly of curiosity, fear and purposeful disregard, but not hostility.

The Captain and the Cavinrean diplomat appear to just be making small talk, Dr. Mäkeläinen notices, as he remembers Singh's earlier warning. Lt. Deng, the Starfleet attaché, puts in an occasional comment but is mostly just listening.

Graham, with his practiced and practical eye for security issues, notes ingress and egress points and sees nothing amiss or threatening.

Your party passes through the plaza and then goes down another hallway. Pairs of guards are posted every few dozen yards here, identically dressed and equipped like the two which still follow you. There are more pictures of the First Citizen on the walls here, many in heroic poses: standing atop a waterfall, reviewing troops, greeting children, presiding over what appears to be a meeting of government officials, and sitting, poised, on the bridge of a starship.

You are then waved through a security checkpoint, passing by a dozen guards who are holding back members of the public, and into the boarding area for the orbital elevator.

Minister Gorra says with satisfaction, "This way, please. We will have a compartment to ourselves."

The visual homages to the First Citizen are impressive, though the one that intrigues Kylah most is the depiction of the older woman on the starship. It seems incongruous for some reason. Perhaps it is simply a publicity shot? Captaining a starship is a dashing, adventuresome activity--at least, it makes Vinre look so--far more than the usual poses of a politician.

Nearing the orbital area, Kylah feels her stomach flutter, not unpleasantly. Less anxiety than anticipation. She peers around with avid interest and follows the elevator as far down (or up--however it appears from their perspective) as her eyes can see. "How many compartments are there, I wonder?" she murmurs to whichever fellow Yorktown crewperson is nearest. She also tries to recall the distance from this station to the planet. If her memory fails, she will politely broach the question to Lt. Deng.

Whenever it is appropriate to move forward into the compartment, she will do so.

How long has Cavinre been a dictatorship? Bizhi wonders. How is the First Citizen selected? He realizes that he spent time researching the local medical infrastructure and semiotics, but not their political history. And now it is not the right time to bring it up. He follows Lt. Deng's example of listening to, rather than participating in, the small talk.

The orbital elevator, a rather unusual structure in this day and age, captures his interest as well as it does Kylah's. It may be slow and dangerous, but the views are unparalleled. How many people spend their careers working on board starships and starbases, yet do not take time to properly appreciate what is outside the hull?

He is not so mesmerized that he neglects to keep an eye out for emergency space suits and damage control equipment. Space debris can pierce through unshielded structures faster than you can react.

The space elevator is, you see from a wall-mounted diagram as you enter, shaped like six-story-tall cylinder, about three times the width of the Yorktown's Bridge. Each level is roughly circular. Ens. Jim Delaney, who has read up on the space elevator, says, "The ultra-thin, ultra-strong synthetic diamond cables of the beanstalk pass through the middle of the elevator, where they're gripped by the central mechanism, which can either climb or descend, or stop, of course. The top level of the elevator, Level 1, is a machinery, life support and control space. Levels 2 and 3 are for cargo. Levels 4, 5 and 6 are for passengers."

You descend on a small lift to the bottom level - the equivalent in accommodations, it seems, to First Class in Federation travel. Your compartment takes up almost half of Level 6. Well-padded couches line the wall farthest from the oval windows of the outer hull. There are several other comfortable-looking chairs and small tables. The lighting is subdued, and you can clearly see the planet filling almost the entire visual field below you. There is an adjoining kitchenette and bathroom.

Dr. Mäkeläinen does not see any emergency spacesuits or damage control equipment, although there are several panels on the inner wall of the compartment which have labels in the Cavinrean script.

Lt. Deng says, "Good question, Ens. Kylah. The space station, the upper terminus for the elevator, is about 600km above the planetary surface."

Minister Gorra says, "Please, come, sit, make yourselves comfortable!"

A uniformed and attractive young female attendant stands ready to assist you. She offers refreshments and snacks.

The Doctor politely declines the food and drink. He does take a seat with the others.

Sensing an opportunity to glean some information, he asks Ens. Delaney, "It's unquestionably impressive. How long has it been in operation, do you know?"

"The first one was built about a century ago, I think," he says. "It's been overhauled and upgraded several times since then."

Graham nods acknowledgement to the attendant and politely demurs. "Ah, sorry, against regulations to snack on duty," he says apologetically. "But is there something traditional or unique that you recommend I try while visiting your planet?"

Kylah's eyebrows lift slightly at Minister Gorra's almost enthusiastic invitation for them to sit--well, it seems enthusiastic for him, at least in the brief time of their acquaintance. She meets his politeness with her own grateful smile and, deferring to wherever the Captain, Lt. Deng and Lt. Graham choose to sit, positions herself close enough to Gorra to hear any conversation.

Since Lt. Deng was kind enough to answer her question about the distance to the planet, Kylah also offers her a smile. "Then it should not take us long to reach what appears to be a beautiful planet. The view along the way should be stunning." Banal words, but such is the way of diplomacy. She looks up at the attendant's question, and is a little surprised by Lt. Graham's refusal, as she is unaware of any rules against taking refreshment on duty. Uncertain if she should follow his lead, or obey her own instincts to accept their hosts' hospitality, she hesitates before requesting water--with ice and some sort of citrus fruit, if that is available.

"Your home star system is well represented in this compartment," she observes to Lt. Deng, glancing at her crewmates--most of whom are Terrans, but she knows the Doctor is from Mars. "We have people from three of its planets at least, if I am not mistaken about your background from Ganymede, ma'am. Have you been on Cavinre long?"

A century ago. Mäkeläinen nods at the statement. Makes sense. What he is really wondering about is the effect of Cavinrian politics on the development of spacefaring technology, and vice versa. He is not worried about the soundness of the structure itself, not really. Perhaps the radiation shielding? No, thick diamond windows ought to do it, even without any modern refinements.

The attendant, whose name is Deev, tells Graham, "Cavinre has several notable foods and beverages, sir. Our sallana liqueur is famous throughout the quadrant, and the roasted meat of the ivinit is also very popular."

Lt. Deng settles into a seat next to Kylah. "Just eight months now. It's a very... interesting place, as you probably know. Different from any other world I've been to."

Everyone takes a seat and soon a voice over the intercom says, "Stand by to begin descent in three minutes." Similar announcements follow, with diminishing time references, until there is a countdown of five seconds, and the orbital elevator at once moves below and away from the space station. Cavinre inertial dampers are definitely not up to Starfleet standards, and you all distinctly feel the drop. Graham, in particular, is reminded of the downward track of an old-fashioned roller coaster he rode many years before. With each passing second, the sensation of falling becomes more noticeable.

Kylah has held her breath for several seconds once the drop began, one hand clenched to the edge of her seat (or anything that is affixed and grabbable). But the shock does not last long, swiftly receding into exhilaration.

It is not quite the same as when she went on the orbital dive--something that she usually does not try to recall, as it ended so terrifyingly with Velir's accident. But the utter delight she felt while falling, almost flying, is brought back to her senses all at once. An almost childish laugh escapes her as she peers out the nearest view. She wishes she could feel the wind in her hair, and closes her eyes for a second to imagine that she can.

A hint of a less pleasant reaction to all this vaguely insinuates itself in her mind, and she looks around until she spots Lt. Graham. Of course, she remembers suddenly: he did not take to that orbital dive well. Not wishing to embarrass him, she takes only a quick glance to share a hint of encouraging sympathy before returning to the view of their exciting plunge, and what she expects will be the sight of the planet growing ever larger.

Again she tears her gaze away to eye Bizhi, Delaney, the Captain and the rest of her crewmates. Finally she ends on Minister Gorra and cannot help blurting, "It is marvelous!"

"Marvelous" is pretty much the last thing on Graham's mind to describe the stomach-churning drop.

But he can't help but appreciate what he at least suspects was a sympathetic glance from Ens. Kylah.

After nodding minutely, he returns his attention to the mantra of "don't puke on the captain."

The drop does not particularly bother Bizhi: he has been on rougher rides, nor does he mind. On the contrary, he is enjoying it. Any jerking makes him glad he is not holding a drink, though he is starting to wish for a jolt of caffeine. He hopes the Embassy brew passes muster.

He cannot help but notice that Kylah seems to be a master of small talk. She is already breaking the ice with both the Minister and the Starfleet diplomat. He settles in a bit and watches her work.

Display screens show the space station growing smaller and smaller behind (or, rather, above) you as you race towards the surface. The planet is still too large and the ground too distant to have noticeably moved, but Delaney, concentrating, observes that the arc of the planet appears to have flattened just slightly as the space elevator descends. He points this out to you all.

Minister Gorra smiles at Kylah's remark. "It is, isn't it? I've been up and down the beanstalk dozens of times over the years, and I always enjoy it."

Dr. Mäkeläinen could ask the attendant if any caffeinated beverages or foods are available, if he wishes.

The Captain seems pensive as you continue your rapid descent.

The Minister seems pleased, so Kylah continues to be courteous and enthusiastic--while not too much so; she must find a good balance while also trying to intuit what the Captain and Starfleet wish their relations to be with these officials.

"I have been on beanstalks before, but there are so many different designs with such varying experiences. Many do not give provide an invigorating journey. But that technology tends to be--" She prevents herself from saying more sophisticated and easily changes tack. "--to be more sedate. Functional but lifeless. I prefer something that retains the wonder and thrill of what technology has accomplished. We are both harnessing and negating gravity, and it is a privilege to do so."

She is really feeling the lack of time for a proper briefing that would have made the overall goals for the mission clearer. Or perhaps she is too long away from governmental intrigue, and is simply not picking up cues. Such intrigue has inserted itself into almost every aspect of her life, even Starfleet. But her role in Aldaan's machinations has been nothing nearly as intense as it had been while still closely bound by his puppet strings back on Elas.

For now, she notices Captain Singh's internal focus has shifted, though she has no idea where her thoughts lie. Worried that her giddiness is unseemly, Kylah pulls back from admiring the view like a hyperactive tourist, though still aiming warmth to Minister Gorra.

"If you please, sir. Do you often travel to the station for pleasure? With family or friends? Or does your position entail meeting much with the businesses there? I ask for no details, of course; I would not presume. I am just thinking... were I to have such a mode of transportation, I would find any excuse to use it, personal or business. Unless there are other thrilling forms of sport or entertainment on the planet itself, for whatever little free time you might get?"

There is not much call for testing his "space legs", as it were, as everyone is seated in a comfortable lounge, but Dr. Mäkeläinen exhibits nonchalance by relaxing into his seat and discreetly catching the attendant's attention. He offers her his best professional smile and asks if there is any coffee available.

He keeps an interested eye on Lt. Graham, and, as for Ens. Kylah, he does his best not to interrupt her momentum.

Minister Gorra smiles and says, "Rarely for pleasure, but somewhat often for my official duties. I don't have frequent occasion to shop on the space station, but do so now and then, to buy gifts, offworld foods and the like. There are many thrilling things to do on Cavinre, to be sure!"

The attendant comes over and then is glad to get and serve Dr. Mäkeläinen some coffee. It is palatable, but far from the best he's ever had.

The elevator falls and falls and falls, and soon the lambent arc of the planet is not far below you, but only slightly below and then soon level with you. The elevator enters the planet's upper atmosphere and the sky outside gradually turns from black to a deep blue. The stars above gradually seem to wink out.

Graham clears his throat. "Well, I'll say this, the trip is certainly a lot more scenic this way compared to a transporter."

Kylah continues to be pleasant to Minister Gorra, though the silence of the Captain and some of the other crew makes her wonder if she should not be engaging him so. After reacting politely to his traveling habits and planetary loyalty, she adds a duly regretful smile. "I wish I could see some of Cavinre's sights and experience things as its people do." The reference to the populus is, of course, intentional, as is the fact that she makes no reference to the inequities they appear to suffer. Let him think her blithely unaware of such matters.

"...But of course, we have our own activities to perform, and will have no such opportunity. In the meantime, this ride has afforded us a great deal of pleasure already." Her words are sincere as she nods toward the bluer surroundings as they near the planet. It has been quite a while since she has seen this sort of descent--not since returning to Elas after graduating last summer, in fact. After leaving home to join the Yorktown, she has primarily been aboard vessels that remained in orbit outside of atmospheres, only traveling to and from destinations via transporter. The orbital dive was the sole exception, and that was hardly the same thing.

The Captain smiles at Graham's remark. "You have a gift for understatement, Mr. Graham."

There is some buffeting, some rattling, as the elevator plunges deeper into the upper atmosphere, but it's not too bad. Soon the planet fills your entire field of vision below, mostly in churning masses of gray and black. The elevator drops through thick clouds. Lightning flashes around you, giant arcs of brilliant white electricity. Then you are through the clouds and a massive city reveals itself spread out beneath you, angular and forbidding in the night until illuminated now and then by the lightning. Rain pelts the windows of the elevator all the way down to the beanstalk terminal, where it slows and then settles into its metal cradle with a noticeable thump.

Minister Gorra says with satisfaction, "Welcome to Cavinre's First City! Come this way, if you please." He leads you back out of the elevator the way you came. There are more guards holding back even larger crowds of downtrodden-looking people, and even more giant portraits of the First Citizen on the walls. Loudspeakers are indistinctly squawking but you can't quite understand what they're saying.

You look out and see that the orbital elevator's terminal is itself a tower, and that you are at least three hundred meters above street level. Flying cars and trucks busily come and go, sleek and wet, the rain pelting off them.

Bizhi finds Kylah giving voice— sincerely or not— to some of his own desires: he genuinely would like to explore the city and the sights, but they are here to do a job, not on shore leave, and neither Starfleet nor the local authorities would countenance them wandering around a volatile, hostile environment, he suspects.

The rain and vehicular traffic hold a singular beauty, especially viewed from a distance. He always appreciates worlds full of life, and the swarm of vehicles is a self-organizing system forming a complex organism, and looks it, like a flock of birds, or a flow of erythrocytes through hidden vessels.

He follows the Minister out of the elevator car with the others.

Graham tries to note any landmarks from above that might help navigate the city on the ground.

Other than that he tries to keep his eyes open while looking amiable to the guards and - the word that occurs him - peasants - all the while.

Each flash of lightning gives Kylah a little start--an embarrassing remnant of a childhood spent hiding in closets during storms both familial and electrical. But it is easy enough to keep her focus on the other sights, such as the flying cars that remind her pleasantly of home.

The crowds are equally distracting, but hardly bring the same comfort. She does not like seeing the guards in such tight control of them. Taking a tiny step to get a better look, she peers at the strangers. Are they pushing against the guards in anger? Do they seem distressed in any specific way? Are the guards justified in their precautions? She is far too distant to get a sense of any one individual's emotional state. But she still has eyes, of course, and hopes to identify some activity among those below.

If she is close enough to Lt. Deng, she will ask, quietly: "Is this usual, ma'am? For there to be such a reaction to visitors? Or is it our uniforms that makes them aggrieved?" Kylah hesitates, wincing at the lightning again as if it is likely to spark the crowd into flaring up, before continuing more softly. "Do the guards always react so...heavy-handedly?"

Graham sees several buildings that are different from the others, including a tall, spindly tower that reminds him a little of the Eiffel Tower, in a way, and a domed building with a blocky, segmented cupola on top. Most of the city, however, from what he can see from his current vantage point, is made of boxy, bland thermocrete-and-glass towers.

Kylah notices that the crowds do not appear angry or even distressed, really, but simply tired and worn-down.

Lt. Deng murmurs to her, "This is pretty much par for the course, Ensign. Most people here don't hate the Federation, or Starfleet for that matter, but some do. Most are simply scared of their own government. Security personnel like these are only one of the reasons why." She says more loudly to the rest of the landing party, "This way, please, for the Embassy aircar." She leads you to a parking space on which rests a long, streamlined, gleaming black vehicle with a discreet Federation seal on the main door.

The Captain thanks Minister Gorra for his assistance; he bows and takes his leave. She then enters the aircar.

Kylah nods slowly at Lt. Deng's words, still watching the crowd. The security seems even more heavyhanded now that she sees the citizens are not causing a ruckus at all. With a silent sigh, she turns and follows her way to the aircar.

A little surprised--but not disappointed--that Minister Gorra is departing, she gives him a grateful farewell look and turns her attention to the official vehicle. It seems so like the Council's mode of transportation that, by pure habit, Kylah automatically steps up to the aircar and positions herself as if Elasian elite guards and their driver will usher her in. Only a second or two passes before she catches her presumption.

Embarrassed, she pretends to be taking a close inspection of the Federation seal. She then straightens and looks casually to see if there are any security officers who will be accompanying them, or if the armored guards have departed along with the Minister. It will be a relief to speak freely. Although...

Now that the thought has occurred to her, she seeks out Lt. Graham. "Sir," she murmurs if he is not occupied. "Can you tell if this vehicle is one that would have been brought here by the Embassy, and kept in their control? I am wondering if it will be necessary to keep our words circumspect. I know on some planets, diplomatic guests' transportation and housing are provided by the government, and we--" Her cheeks warm. "It is deemed prudent to monitor all such spaces."

The Doctor was waiting politely for Kylah to enter the fancy aircar, expecting to follow, but she surprises him by checking it out and conferring with Graham. It has to be the right car, because both Lt. Deng and Capt. Singh recognize it. He feels slightly self-conscious at being picked up in a special vehicle like some sort of diplomat, but this must simply be the official Embassy transport. He watches Graham and Kylah for a beat, then follows the Captain and finds a seat inside.