In His Domain

 Episode Name:  In His Domain

   Written By:  Daedalus

         Cast:  Daedalus, Laco, O'Rielly and Randal.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Daedalus

     Aired On:  Sun Sep 11 02:46:09 2005

     Stardate:  55255

Time: Fri Sep 09 20:27:56 2005

Stardate: 55252.0

Fade into a ship interior. The specific interior is a cockpit-style bridge, which means the ship is clearly some kind of large shuttle or new Runabout -- it's too new, too different to be the familiar Danube-class style of USS Amazon, or USS Cape Fear. The camera pans the circumference of the cockpit, falling on an unknown man in a gold-tinted Starfleet uniform at the controls, and Philip Laco, Bristol O'Rielly, and Randal Thorne all in civilian attire in various chairs at various other consoles ... Indeed, as it does, we see a plaque: "USS Cyrano, NCC-92003 ... Squire-class Runabout ... Launched from Beta Antares Shipyards, Stardate 55001.7 ... 'My greatest victories were won under an assumed name.' - Cyrano de Bergerac"

The gold-shirted man looks up. "Sir," he says, to Laco, "we'll be flying low past Novaluna in about 6 minutes. We'll have about a 25 second window to beam your team through the relays we have there and down to the planet's surface." A pause. "I know I've said this before, Sir," ... the man turns to face Laco fully, setting the little Runabout on autopilot, and his rank pip is that of a Warrant Officer, clearly a piloting specialist. "...but I remind you that relay transport is ... very unpleasant, and it might cause you some disorientation on the other side. But it's the only way to get you down to New Manila without flying in sight of their Militia. They don't like these flybys as it is, but as long as they think we're just doing the usual communications monitoring, they tolerate us well enough. But please remember that you'll be coming back through the relay, as well. So ... be careful, and try not to let it overwhelm you, and let me know with a burst transmission in advance if you find Mister DeKuyper and the transport back is for four instead of three."

Laco, slouched in his seat in a decidedly unprofessional manner, waves dismissively at the warrent officer. "Understood. And I doubt the transport process is any worse than waking up after having been dead for six weeks." He turns his head towards the others. "Everybody ready?"

Randal spins around in the chair to face Laco. "I'm not armed yet, actually," he says, sounding a tinge annoyed by that fact. He moves to stand up, commenting, "Unpleasant, huh. But not dangerous, right?" He asks, glancing toward the warrant officer as he approaches the transporter pads.

O'Rielly is sitting up in his seat, looking over various data on his monitor. He glances over when Seegar the Warrant Officer speak, and sighs when he hears the inevitable words 'Relay Transport'. He smirks to the warrant officer before saying, "Mister Seegar, if you can make this relay transport a little less unpleasant than normal, I'd be forever in your debt." A quick glance over to Laco before he nods to Laco, "As I'll ever be sir."

. o O O'Rielly thinks, "I hate relay transporting"

Laco taps his chin. "Hmm. Indeed. I suppose you aren't armed. I'll look into that." He pitches his voice towards the shuttlepilot. "We're ready for beamdown."

Seegar laughs. "No, sir," he says to Randal, but the 'sir' is less pronounced than to Laco, "not dangerous. Unless I sneeze while I'm doing it." But then he turns more serious. "Mister Thorne, good luck, seriously. When They" -- he says it with the capital letter, as if he means a general 'they' -- "brought me in from the cold and decided I was no more use to them as in informant, I hadn't been half as useful as I hear you've been. If it weren't for earning this uniform, I'd be wasting away in a cell somewhe----" He nods, interrupted by Laco. "Right, Sir. Of course. If you all will head to the transporter bay." He reaches next to him, and the secondary console configures to mock-up that which would power a full-sized starship transporter pad. On a Runabout? Clearly this is *not* a Danube. "Countdown ... begins."

O'Rielly looks to Laco as he stands and heads to the transporter bay as asked. He's not wearing a very happy face as he heads back there.

Randal raises his eyebrows, looking from Seegar to Laco. "Yeah... 'They' put that out in no uncertain terms for me, as I recall," he comments, his voice somewhat wry. "They have one heck of a brochure, don't they?" Taking his place on the transport pad, he adds, muttering sidelong, "If we get into trouble and I'm still not armed, you're going to regret it." It's not so much a threat, but rather, has the vaguely sing-song tone to it. Like he's already preparing to say 'I told you so' later on.

Laco stands and tucks his hands into his pockets. He says, in an amicable yet threatening sort of way. "Make me regret it, and I'll make you regret it double. If you're still capable of regret." He forms up on the pad.

. o O O'Rielly thinks, "If we get into trouble and you're the cause of it, I expect Lt Laco to report an accident involving you and a dull knife."

...and so, the scene cuts to an urban side street, at night, a night lit by starlight, the illumination spilling from windows and street-lamps, and -- at least for a moment -- the dull energy release of a Federation transporter. When the light fades, the three men are standing on Occan soil, breathing Occan air...

Hands still tucked into his pockets, Laco turns about slowly. While still trying to be as casual as possible, he attempts to guage whether or not anybody spotted the beamdown. That done, he pulls his jacket's hood up over his face. "Alright, we have two options. Head to his abode first, or check out his usual hangouts. His dwelling may be watched, and very likely has nothing hidden there, unless he is really good at hiding it, or is sloppy. Input."

"What I mean," Randal replies as the whine of the transporter dies away, "is that if we end up outgunned, it will be too late to make sure I'm armed." He glances around at the dimly lit locale and comments bleakly, "I hate this planet." That's about the extent of his input for the moment, apparantly.

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Espionage/Federation Techniques vs Moderate and Succeeds.

O'Rielly nods slowly after the materialization sequence is complete. He ruffles the collar of his own coat for a moment, listening to Randal's complaint. "We should check out the hangouts first, we might gather more info there, but we'll have to sanitize his apartment regardless." He starts to take a long look around

Laco glances at Randal. His look requests input, but he doesn't verbalize the desire.

Randal sighs as Laco continues to fix a gaze on him, and says, "Right. Well, this guy was trying to get hooked into the revolutionary movement, right?" He shrugs. "Well? Seems to me like the best way to follow him is to poke around the breeding grounds." He shrugs. "If we're lucky, maybe we'll get converted ourselves. Seems the best way of going after DeKuyper is to trace his steps, assuming he went where we want to go."

O'Rielly pulls a PADD out of a pocket of his long jacket. Looking over it for a moment he says, "I don't know where he would hang out, but let's see if these places," he motions to a few places on his PADD, "Bring anything."

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Computer/Research vs Routine and Succeeds.

Laco nods to Randal, then again at O'Rielly. "Well, then. Work quickly. That done, he pulls out his own PADDcorder, and fiddles around with it for a moment. It looks like he's just checking it to make sure it survived the transport.

In the meanwhile, as the small 'team' mulls over options, the usual sounds of weekend merriment just starting to get underway can be heard from the street. The smells pick up, too, as if someone nearby opened a window or a door and let the odor of stale alcohol -- the real kind -- and greasy rich food waft out. The noises come in just as much of a jumble, people ordering another round, a bunch of teenagers laughing at each other as they pass along the thoroughfare, a hover-vehicle taking off, and so on.

"Do we have a specific establishment to visit?" Randal asks. "Because if DeKuyper didn't leave us anything that specific, we might as well just mingle, you know?" He shrugs. "I mean, this is a college town on the weekend right? Fitting in won't be too hard. For me, anyway," he adds, with wry amusement.

O'Rielly looks to Laco, "We've got 19 possibilities, any idea how you'd like to proceed?"

"Pick the 11th one." Laco states. "It is my mother's birthday. Move out."

Randal arches his eyebrows. "How scientific," he remarks, tucking his hands in his pockets as he prepares to follow the others.

Laco smiles to himself. "If I were all that scientific, I wouldn't be trudging about on backwater colonies looking for lost souls."

O'Rielly looks over his PADD and correlates the 11th name on the list with it's location relative to theirs and starts walking. "Got a better idea?" he calls out to no one in particular.

Randal shrugs. "Not really," he concedes. "But, look. Try not to be... you know. So... Starfleet, when we get there, right?" He says, sounding a bit weary.

The 11th name on the list -- The Cafe Rembrandt -- is a small, non-descript coffeehouse where the crowd of students is already thick. There appears to be some kind of poetry competition going on as the not-so-merry trio arrives just outside, the sounds of shouted free verse from an anxious, earnest young firebrand reaching through the open door. "...and the voice from the shadows cried out, cried out, cried out 'My friend, you are in despair!'..."

Laco leads the way through the door, scanning the room for a nice, dank corner to lair in. He mutters quietly to his 'team', "See any likelies?"

O'Rielly follows in behind Laco after having lead them to the cafe. He starts to look around the room very carefully as they go to find a table.

GAME: Randal spends a courage point.

GAME: Randal contests his Streetwise+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Randal glances at the others, then nods toward a table occupied by burly longshoreman types. That's all the indication he gives, however, before he wanders toward the fellows himself.

Laco motions for O'Rielly to join Randal, before he himself proceeds to a table alone. Once there, he takes a seat, props his elbow in the table, and places his chin in his hand. Consequently, his hood falls down further over his face.

O'Rielly nods and turns to follow Randal, watching him carefully, though glancing up more to look at the longshoreman types that Randal seems to be heading towards.

GAME: O'Rielly has the merit of Sense Of Character at 2.

As Randal settles into a seat near the workingmen as if he eblongs there, one of them looks up briefly, looks at the two men, then goes back to his coffee. The others don't seem to notice at first.

Laco drums his fingers on his chin as he waits. Lacos hate waiting, yes they do.

"Yeah," Randal comments unbidden to his new friends. "This beatnik stuff's a waste of time. But," he continues, his eyes drawing to a student of the fair sex who wanders into visual range, "At least the view's worth it, yeah?" He snickers. "Anyway, it's nice to have a seat and a nice strong cup of coffee after a hard week's work, right?" He's clearly trying to 'fit in' with the longshoreman.

O'Rielly walks and sits down at a table near both Randal and the longshoreman, but not directly with either of them as he starts to listen to the poetry, and to Randal.

Laco pulls his PADD out, and begins to mess with it.

One of the fellows rolls his eyes, nods. "Tell us about it," he says. "This place didn't make the best coffee in the district, we'd have to burn it to the ground." One of the others cuffs him. "Careful, Stammy. Talk like that's dangerous nowadays. Last thing we need's some overzealous peek-a-boy thinking you're a threat." 'Stammy', for his part, snorts. "I got nothin' to hide."

Randal chuckles. "Yeah, seriously. What's things coming to when an honest man has to hide his feelings, right? Didn't our parents come to this world so that we could build a future our way. And now what? Government's treating us hard-working stiffs like we're hiding pointy ears under our hats." He shakes his head. "Makes me wonder if we've losing the human spirit in all this conspiracy and martial law. Humans aren't supposed to live like this."

O'Rielly glances over his shoulder towards Randal and the longshoremen. "You're brave talking like that ya know," he says very non-chalantly before turning back to his table.

"Yeah, well, it's only been a few months," says Stammy, "and they gotta take care of the Ess-Jays before they can get back to business, right?" But it's clear that one or two of his mates agree with Randal, and do NOT agree with their chum. "This lasts longer than, oh, the Winterfest, and then I'll be as angry as you, Mister .... ?"

"Tobias," Randal answers. "But you can just call me Randal. Right?" He smiles. First rule of lying, keep it simple. "What makes you think the situation's going to get better before Winterfest? This People's Revolution's getting desperate. And frankly," his voice drops lower, "I can hardly blame them. I don't think they really want violence. Or maybe not before the Voice of Reason died, but I've gotta hard time believing the party line on that." He shrugs. "Hard to know what to think nowadays, right?"

"Voice of Reason?" one of them barks in laughter. "I like that. I like that a lot. I may steal it and tell my wife. You mind?"

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Beneath Laco's hood, his left eye suddenly develops a tic.

Meanwhile, a server comes to Laco's table. "Sir, can I get you some coffee? Some cocoa?"

O'Rielly laughs in response too. He looks back over to the group smiling. "You know, it wouldn't surprise me if the government engineered that whole 'Voice of /Freedom/" dying just to give them an excuse. Course they'd have to be in on it with those Federation types..." he says much more quietly even though he put an emphasis on the word Freedom.

Laco's tic becomes more pronounced, then even more after O'Rielly adds his two cents. "Yes. Sure. Go."

Randal chuckles. "Oh. Sorry... heard someone else call him that," He bluffs to cover his faux pas. His grin intensifies just a degree and he adds, "It is pretty funny, though. Yeah, sure go ahead and tell her, too."

One or two of Stammy's friends look a bit uncomfortable with talking this overtly in criticism, but he himself takes it in stride. "Yeah, people have been saying that. I'm still not sure. I mean, I don't put it past 'em, but, I mean, come on, lots of folks who hate the Federation thought that Laco guy was a bit of alright. I mean, sure, they used him like a recruiting poster, but, you know, they say he personally saved the entire power plant from those ... things. It'd backfire if folks ever found out." A pause. "I mean, I just dunno. Maybe."

O'Rielly whispers a little quieter now and shakes his head. "If they got rid of all the revolutionaries, do you think it'd really matter? They'd just scapegoat someone and say they thought he was really dead..." He shrugs once more. "But who knows, maybe it really happened." With that he turns back to his table once more looking out at some of the students who are looking in his direction.

. o O O'Rielly thinks, "Watch, I inadvertently cause a civil war... oh wait, too late for that."

Around the intermingled spies and workmen, the students continue their 'poetry slam'. A few eyes occasionally turn Randal or O'Rielly's way, but otherwise, the conversation seems to take place in an island of counter-noise within the noisy coffeehouse.

. o O Laco thinks, "Come on, numbskulls. Don't make me do everything myself."

Randal nods. "And, well, you know... if someone from the Federation were willing to stick their neck out for us, it does make you wonder a bit, doesn't it?" He shrugs. "I mean, they had no reason to help us, considering what most people say about the Federation. Heck, I've said some nasty things about the Federation and their military, myself. But still... considering these people are apparantly /dying/ for us..." His voice has dropped to a serious hush.

Laco removes his hand from his chin, and begins to drum on the table instead. He clears his throat loudly, as if he has a chest-cold.

One of the workmen has the misfortune to mutter what he mutters next during a lull in the poetry reading, his voice carrying at least to Randal and O'Rielly, therefore: "You want to find someone dying for us, go six blocks over, look in any side street. That's who's dying for us."

O'Rielly turns and coughs kind of loudly for a moment after he hears the workman's comment. Waiting a moment to see if anybody turns towards them he looks back to the guy. "They're here? I came looking for a friend who lives near here who I haven't heard from in a while." He starts to look really worried. He turns back to look forward at his table, tapping his hands on it a little worried-like now.

. o O Laco thinks, "About time. And decently played, I suppose."

Randal glances toward O'Rielly as he speaks up, falling silent himself. If he heard what was muttered, he puts up the pretense that he hadn't.

. o O Laco feels annoyed.

"Lotsa people ain't been heard from in a while." The man speaking is two seats over from 'Stammy'. "Nobody's fault, they say. Wrong place, wrong time. Crossfire between the Ess-Jays and the Charteristas. What can you do? But they end up dead or gone just the same."

O'Rielly shakes his head, "I refuse to believe that he's just another victim of crossfire..."

"I could use some fresh air soon," Randal comments to his friends, nonchalantly. "Just whenever you're done."

"Yeah? Maybe not. He owe someone money?" Then Stammy frowns at his own question. "Sorry. Bad taste of me. But if you're coming in from another city, you should know we've had it pretty hard here in the streets. What's your friend's name?"

O'Rielly definitely looks unhappy as he mutters a single name. "DeKuyper"

. o O Laco thinks, "Finally."

"Grigor DeKuyper? Big guy, bushy beard, works at Kuh-state?" A few of them nod as Stammy asks. "Yeah, if that's him. He's likely dead in a ditch, sad to say. Good guy. Never shy with a bottle of old fashioned whiskey lifted from ... somewhere. But he's been gone for awhile. Five or six weeks. But I ain't heard nothing about him being dead. We figure he either got clipped for the sticky fingers or ... well, ran off. He liked the kind that made trouble, but he wasn't a troublemaker, really." A pause. "Hope you find him. Tell him Stammy Ali hopes he's okay."

O'Rielly nods and frowns, "That sounds like him. Know anybody who might have a better idea of what happened to him?"

Randal perks up, looking at Stammy, then over to O'Rielly, though he remains quiet.

"Well, I mean, I hope he *ain't* dead, but if you guys ain't see him, and his landlady ain't .... He might be. Have you asked her? I mean, it's a bit late, but if you just got here..." He stands up for a second and calls over to the barista at the counter, "Gadj, you know where Old Lady Vidonia hangs out on Friday nights?" The barista, for his part, shrugs. "I think she's been mostly staying home these days. Woman's paranoid even when there *isn't* shooting in the streets every few days, right?"

O'Rielly nods and stands, "Stammy Ali, huh? I'll be sure to remember ya, thanks." With that he turns to head out of the establishment, looking very determined.

Laco suddenly stands, causing his chair to jump off the floor a bit. He mutters an apology to those around him for the noise, tosses a few Occan coins onto the table, and heads for the exit.

. o O Laco thinks, "I hope that's enough. For all I know, a thousand Occan whatevers equal a single Federation Credit. I should have done more research."

Randal, for his part, smiles to the others. "Nice talking to you," he says, particularly toward Stammy. "See you around." With a nod, he turns to follow O'Rielly and Laco.

Cut to the exterior of an apartment building, the ground floor of which appears to be taken up by a boarded up shop or two. There has clearly been violence in this neighborhood, but that doesn't seem to be stopping the folks milling in the street having a party *now*. There are lights on in the four stories above the boarded up shops, at various intervals -- people are, in fact, home.

Laco flicks out his PADD, and begins to work with it. "We hit the apartment first. See what's there, then we'll find the landlady. Any questions?"

Randal shrugs. "We're going to have to be careful not to be noticed if we're checking out the apartment on our own," he comments quietly. "Otherwise, it will make the conversation with her all the more difficult." He smirks faintly.

GAME: Laco contests his Personal Equipment/Tricorder vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Laco shakes his head. "Not if she's as afraid of the Ess whatevers and such, as that lummox in the coffee ship believed. We can capitalize on that fear, I think. And, if not, I have a couple of other tricks."

O'Rielly shakes his head. "Sounds best. Remember, once we look around, we have to clean it up."

"If we have to," Randal says, almost condescending. "You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, as I demonstrated back at the cafe. Anyway, ready whenever you are."

Laco nods, and heads for the stairwell. He stops at the second floor, peering into the hallway. He then heads for a corner apartment.

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Stealth/Stealthy Movement vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: Laco contests his Stealth vs Routine and Fails.

GAME: Randal contests his Stealth vs Routine and Marginally Succeeds.

"Can I help you?" The voice is loud enough to carry. From the diagonal opposite of the door towards which Laco is heading a middle-aged woman in a simple housedress is standing. Her door is only open a wide crack, as if she's ready to shut it again at a moment's notice.

Well, there's a change of plan. Laco calls out, from behind his suspicously drawn hood, "We're looking for Mister DeKuyper. He lived here, right? Have you seen him lately?" Laco's tone is steady, but neither hostile nor amicable. Curious, perhaps.

"You friends of his? Family? He still owes me for this month's rent." She opens the door a bit wider. "I was about to gather everything up and throw it out."

O'Rielly says, "He's an old friend, haven't heard from him lately, been kinda worried." He frowns when she mentions the rent. "Have you seen him in a while?""

Randal loiters behind Laco and O'Rielly, letting either of them do the talking here. He does his best to appear nonchalant, if nothing else.

Laco nods, under his hood. "Yes, something like that. If you could point us in his direction, or give us at least a clue as to where he might be, perhaps we'd be willing to pay his rent for this month."

"He left here on a Friday night four or five weeks ago, never came back. There was a lot of fighting that night. He's probably either dead or in a jail cell. He always did run with the wrong crowd." She frowns. "You pay his rent, I suppose I can let you in to pile up his things or whatever."

Laco glances at O'Rielly and Randal. It's better than stunning her, then phasering the door open. "Alright, fair enough."

O'Rielly looks up to the woman, "How much was his rent?"

Randal nods, with an assenting sort of expression, to the others.

And soon a figure is named, the woman points some kind of tricorder-like calibrator at the chosen member of the bunch of DeKuyper's 'friends', and sets that person to the door's lock. With that, and the money, she disappears into her apartment, shutting the door, leaving Laco, O'Rielly, and Randal in the hall, alone for the moment.

"We can beat her up later if we have to." Laco states, then he heads for the apartment.

Randal raises his eyebrows and comments, with sarcasm, "What, and take her lunch money?" He takes a good look around as soon as the trio enters the apartment.

O'Rielly follows and reaches his hand into the pocket where his weapon is stashed as they enter, just in case.

Laco flips his hood back, and rubs his hands together. "Alright. Lets find what there is to be found." That said, Laco proceeds to start probing furniture cushions for hard objects. "Try not to make too much noise."

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Search vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Laco contests his Search vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Randal contests his Search vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Randal chuckles faintly as he seeks out the former inhabitant's desk, or wherever he might be storing his papers or electronic equivalent.

In short order, the room is turned upside down. The emergency transceiver is found that would allow DeKuyper to 'squirt' his messages off the relay at Novaluna and into space for SI. Some primitive weapons -- a knife, a Polaron weapon clearly left over in the local black market after the Dominion Occupation but missing its power pack -- are found. Also of note is some kind of Occan message unit which is lying to one side of the door as if dropped into the mailslot.

O'Rielly notices the message unit by the door and picks it up, looking it over. He takes it over to Laco, wanting him to look over it.

Laco, who happens to be fiddling with the knife, slides the stabbing iron into his pocket when O'Rielly offers him the message device. He turns it over in his hands, then walks over to the wall terminal and inserts it.

A brief text-only message appears. "We haven't seen you in almost two weeks. If you are still safe and sound, seek me out in my usual domain." It is signed "Mister Cassiel".

GAME: Laco contests his History vs Difficult and Fails.

GAME: Randal contests his World Knowledge vs Difficult and Fails.

GAME: O'Rielly spends a courage point.

GAME: O'Rielly contests his World Knowledge+A vs Difficult and Marginally Succeeds.

Randal has taken interest in the emergency tranceiver. "We'll probably want to hang on to this, right?" he asks, then notices the others have found the message. He steps over to read it as well. "What's this supposed to mean? Not very useful, is it?"

O'Rielly shakes his head. "It's actually very useful... The name rings a bell, but I don't recall why."

Laco gestures to the terminal. "See if you can't look it up somehow."

Randal frowns. "Well, the name doesn't do anything for me. And we can't exactly go asking around for this guy if he is who we think he might be." He peers at the terminal, somewhat scornfully. "Not me. Computers don't like me," he comments, diverting his attention to the polaron rifle for now.

O'Rielly nods and looks to the terminal, seeing what he can find.

Laco waits impatiently, tapping his loafered-foot on the floor. Lacos hate waiting.

Randal, for his part, fiddles with the powerless rifle while O'

Randal, for his part, fiddles with the powerless, useless rifle while O'Rielly works his magic on the computer, glancing over from time to time.

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Computer/Research vs Challenging and Succeeds.

GAME: O'Rielly contests his World Knowledge+A vs Challenging and Succeeds.

O'Rielly starts to work over the Terminal before smaking his head. "Nevermind..." he says for a moment then he starts again. "Cassiel won't be a surname here... it's an alias, or the guy's an offworlder. Checking for aliases now."

Laco says, "Tick Tock, Lieutenant.""

"You know," Randal states. "That one guy back at the cafe said something about going 'six blocks away' and taking a look. I suppose it could have been just a random statement about the violence going on aroud here. But still... if we end up with no other leads to follow, maybe it meant something. You know, something he let slip by accident."

And, sure enough, after a few moments, the search parameters seem to kick in. The old data terminal, with its dry, droning, masculine voice, says "No modern media or popular culture references found for the name 'Cassiel'. Based on search parameters, widening source to include pre-modern cultural references. Most likely match, with ninety-two percent of references, is from pre-Modern Earth-ancestral Judeo-Christo-Islamic theology, the Archangel Cassiel, divine ruler of the angelic Order of powers, of games of luck and chance, of the planet and astrological sign of Saturn, of Saturday in its aspect as the Judaic Sabbath, and of the realm of Araboth, seventh and highest of the Heavens reachable by angel or man before diffusion into the ineffable Godhead and loss of Self."

GAME: Randal contests his Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Succeeds.

O'Rielly just grins as he deactivates the terminal, taking the message unit off. He looks around. "Alright, let's clean this place out. We're about to head to Club Araboth."

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Espionage/Counterintelligence vs Challenging and Dramatically Succeeds.

GAME: Laco contests his Espionage/Counterintelligence vs Challenging and Succeeds.

GAME: Randal contests his Security/Security Systems vs Challenging and Fails.

Laco comments, "Do you see anything we need to actually destroy or take with us? The terminal, yes. There are probably dozens of DNA samples too, but I don't see anything else too damning. And the only way we could really get rid of all the DNA is to maybe torch the place. And I don't want to do that."

Randal shrugs. "Well, if this guy we're after had been killed or caught, this place would already have been ransacked by now. My guess is he either decided to go off to the hills as a full-fledged rebel, or he died in such a way that left no body to be found."

Fortunately, at least one member of the team seems to be an expert at the kind of post-intelligence clean-up that goes beyond mere breaking and entering into complete sanitization. Within another five minutes, as the light chatter and suggestions continue, it is as if the team was never in the room, or as if someone had set off a forensic cleanser. Very carefully, the team slips away, taking the items of importance, the absence of those items concealed as cleverly as the DNA evidence that they were ever in the room. Like ghosts, they are gone.

And the scene cuts to the corner where, just down the block, a club is now at this late hour starting to jump. The club's name is Araboth, yes, spelled out in big holographic letters projected crudely about 5 meters into the air above the door by a simple unit. There are many people here, a long line of folks waiting to enter.

Laco steps towards the club. "Watch yourselves in here. We're going to go straight for the owner. I have a feeling he may be X, Y, Z, or maybe even Q. We'll find out. Set to nap-time."

Randal nods. "While that seems to be a little bit blunt, there we'd probably be wasting time with anyone other than this archangel of ours." He chuckles. "To storm heaven, huh?" He nods to the holoprojected letters above the club.

O'Rielly nods and just falls in, entering into the club, a slight smile on his face.

A good enough plan, except that there is, yes, a line of people waiting to enter, and a bouncer on duty, who sticks out a big beefy arm. "Excuse me, fella," he says to O'Rielly. "You ... not seeing too well?"

Laco steps up behind O'Rielly. His hood has been replaced on his head. "Tell your boss that Yahweh sent us. We'll make it worth your while if you do."

Randal steps up to O'Rielly's other side, trying to look smug without smirking too overtly. He remains quiet for now.

The bouncer smirks, looks at his partner, then back to Laco. "How worth my while?"

O'Rielly reaches into the pocket of his jacket where he has the PADD and fumbles with it for a few moments. When he's done fumbling he pulls out 2 slips of latinum. "No, I'm not. Got blinded while looking at these in a well-lit room."

. o O Randal thinks, "Definitely the direct approach. Still, they're doing everything right. For now. Maybe I won't regret being dragged along on this."

Laco gestures towards the latinum with his chin.

Randal smiles, and comments with quiet amusement, "Pennies from heaven."

"Tell you what, my good brothers." He reaches out for the latinum. "You can go tell the boss yourself for that kind of worth-my-while. He's in his usual booth, in the back." He even holds out passes now. "These'll be good for a drink or two each, as well."

O'Rielly smiles to the man as he lets him take the latinum and takes the passes. "Have a good evening," he says as he enters the club proper now.

Laco smiles, and accepts a pass. Once inside, however, he lets the smile slide off his face. After replacing it with a grimace of irritation, he slaps the voucher onto the first table he passes, without looking down. He heads straight for the booths in the back.

. o O Laco thinks, "Please, oh please, don't let anybody who is sitting look up into my hood."

GAME: Randal contests his Sleight of Hand vs Routine and Succeeds.

Randal tags along behind the others. Also without looking down, he lets his palm slide over Laco's discarded drink voucher, deftly taking it into possession. Well, if /he/ wasn't going to use it, why let it go to waste?

O'Rielly follows behind Laco now as they head to the back of the club. He pays close attention to the various patrons along his path, and also tries to note any additional exits there may be.

Maneuvering the crowd isn't difficult for a one-track-minded Starfleet officer with training in hand to hand combat, self-discipline, and all that other good stuff. It takes Laco little time to find the big booth in back where a man is clearly holding court. If he's not the owner, he ought to be -- individuals come and go from the table, but a core few remain, and all of them surround him like fawning servants. The beautiful people at play.

Laco steps up to the table and simply stands there, hood up, waiting to be acknowledged.

As the group heads toward the club's head honcho, Randal attempts to flag down a server. Brandishing the drinks pass, he quietly, orders the house special if he gets the chance. He then walks briskly to keep up with the other two.

O'Rielly falls in right beside Laco, on the Lieutenant's right hand side.

After a moment, the small, slender man with Eurasian features who seems to be holding this court looks up. Peering against the darkness of the dance club, he simply says "And what can I do for you, hmmmm?" The 'hmmm' is stretched out into multiple syllables, like the auditory representation of the Cheshire Cat's smile.

Laco crosses his arms. "DeKuyper."

"Not I, surely," says the man. "And you don't look like a DeKuyper, either."

GAME: Randal contests his Streetwise vs Moderate and Succeeds.

O'Rielly smirks, "We're not, just friends." He takes a long look at the other people with the man.

Randal smiles back at the man presumed to be Cassiel. "Perhaps not. Doesn't mean we can't do business, though, no?"

Laco shrugs, and raises his palms. "In a sense, I *am* a DeKuyper. But I'm looking for the one we both know. Where is he?"

Cassiel -- at least, the person assumed to be that worthy gentleman -- looks back and forth between all three men. "Business," he says, evenly. "Indeed." He gestures to the others at his table. "Please, all of you, excuse us for, oh, a few minutes." Though his voice is rather soft, it seems to carry over the background music, and soon he is alone at the table, with Laco, O'Rielly, and Randal standing before it; those three get dirty or at least appraising looks from Cassiel's temporarily dispossessed tablemates.

O'Rielly watches some of the more attractive women walk off, seeming to look at them appraisingly. He looks back to the man and grins. "Much better, I was begining to feel a little clausterphobic."

Randal smiles, and glances at Laco, clearly prepared to let him take the helm of these dealings without further interruption. For the moment, anyway.

Laco moves to take a seat. "Like I said, we're looking for DeKuyper. If you doubt our credentials, you can inquire with a man named Grix. Last I knew, he lived in New Florida. But I have not seen him for a few years. Just ask about the tallish fellow with the odd skin disease, who he helped out during the liberation."

At the mention of Grix's name, Cassiel's demeanor changes. "The old man's still in business, then?" He nods. "Well, if that's the kind of people interested in Grigor from that side of things, I suppose I'll yield up my claim on him." A pause. "Not that I'm in a position to press it right now. I haven't seen him in almost a month and a half."

O'Rielly frowns in response to that. "About when all hell broke loose then." He shakes his head, "What can you tell us about him, or what may have happened to him?"

Randal continues to wait quietly while the others ask the questions, having nothing else to contribute just yet.

Laco nods. "Indeed. It is absolutely imperitive that we make contact with him."

He laughs. "A big fellow. Hit at parties. Likes to act stupid. Much, much smarter than he pretends, in fact. Pays me well, in kind, for information. Which means he's either Starfleet Intelligence, Federation Intelligence Service, or Orion Syndicate. I've never asked and my ignorance helps me avoid spilling what I don't know." A pause. He looks around the table. "You're either looking to bring him in from the cold or put him in the ground, which means you're one of those three, yourselves. And I still don't want to know exactly which. Am I right?"

O'Rielly laughs slightly in response. "If you were right, would you really want to know?"

Randal shrugs. "Does it matter? Like I said, we're all here to do business. And all of us recognize the urgency of locating DeKruyper. After all, as you have pointed out, he knows something about the rest of us that is in our interests to... watch over."

Laco just makes 'move along' twirling gesture with his fingers.

"It matters, actually, as to whether you intend to bury DeKuyper or to praise him." He reaches for the drink that he had in front of him. "One of you, I trust, can tell me with a straight and reasonably honest face which it is?"

O'Rielly says, "Burying him is the last thing we want, and we hope that we're not too late to prevent that."

"I suppose my question was unfairly ... limited." A pause. "I imagine there's people who would want him alive and *still* mean him harm."

O'Rielly grins once more, then shakes his head. "We mean him no harm at all."

Randal shrugs. "Would we be negotiating peacably with you if we were out to cause him harm?" He ventures.

Laco says, "If I were that type, I would have simply set fire to your club, plucked you out of the crowd as you fled it, and tortured you until you told us what we wanted to know." Laco scratches his chin, "Just tell us where he is."

"If I were the type who fled a burning club out any visible exit you would expect, my friend, I would hardly be Cassiel, Lord of Araboth." He looks annoyed now. "But I am he, and this is that place, which means you are in my domain." He sips the drink. "But you wish to be in DeKuyper's. So, as I see it, we can do business. But it will be business, and not a gift of mercy from me."

Randal glances over to O'Rielly, then to Laco, giving each a pointed look though he remains silent.

. o O Randal thinks, "Don't mess this up, guys. We do not want to antagonize this man."

. o O Laco thinks, "Well, here goes."

O'Rielly looks very non-chalant. "Go on then."

Laco glances at O'Rielly, then slides back his hood a little bit. Not enough that the people around should be able to see his features, but anyone right in front of him should be able to easily see up to his eyes now. "Mister Cassiel, or whatever your real name is...You seem concerned over whether or not we were sent to bury DeKuyper. However, by withholding the information we require, you're doing the same thing. If he is still alive. Who knows, while we're here arguing, a thousand things could be happening to him. So, if you require some sort of capitalistic reward of some kind, " Laco says that last phrase with obvious distaste, "be quick about it."

Cassiel frowns, and motions. "One of you has a PADD?"

Randal glances to the others, and says, "Here." Since his is the only one that's a plain old normal PADD.

Cassiel tap-taps on it a few times, slides it back to Randal. "That's where your boy is, as far as I can tell. If from here you require some kind of additional assistance," he looks to Laco now, "be quick about it."

O'Rielly glances to the PADD looking at where it points as the location.

Laco lowers his hood again, covering everything but his mouth and jaw. Said mouth has a not-quite pleasant grin on it. "Not at all. Have a wonderful evening."

Randal grins at Cassiel. "Thanks for your help, sir," he replies cordially, his own manner designed to be friendly and pleasant in contrast. "We'll be in touch." He nods, giving a quick wink directed at the black marketeer before he glances over at his companions and says, "Shall we?"

Laco nods, and stands. He makes his way out of the club.

"Good evening," Cassiel says, as the team begins to vacate his domain. "But be warned. I'm not entirely sure he's there as a prisoner."

O'Rielly nods, "Thanks for the warning." And with that he follows Laco out, not having used his pass at all.

O'Rielly turns to Laco once out of the club. "It's a recruitment camp for the People's Brigade along the coast." He glances to Randal for a moment, then back to Laco, "How should we handle this?"

Laco shrugs. "The same way we'd take care of anything. We go there, find out what is going on, and settle it, one way or the other."

Time: Sat Sep 10 21:02:21 2005

Stardate: 55254.4

We fade in on low, steady movement through a woodsy terrain. There is the light of false dawn in the air -- the sun is within an hour of rising, and the movement begins to speed up a little as the little glow gives at least slightly more visibility than the backlit display of a PADD. The trees thin some, and the smell of salt water is thick in the air, the sound of distant waves crashing on a cliffside. Up ahead, through the thinning treeline, some other light sources can be seen, very faint, but clearly artificial by the pattern to them.

Laco raises his hand to halt the group, and pulls the PADDcorder that he previously tucked into his waistband free. He begins to scan the area between the small group and the encampment. "Remember, phasers set to stun."

O'Rielly nods to Laco as he comes to a stop, Phaser already in hand and waiting. "I haven't had once set higher since I lost my leg." And of course at that moment he looks down towards his left leg.

GAME: Laco contests his Personal Equipment/Tricorder vs Challenging and Marginally Succeeds.

Randal glowers. "Yeah? And what else do you think mine's set on?" He actually sounds a bit offended. "You know, there's every possibility we won't need to shoot anyone if we don't do anything overtly hostile, ourselves." He holds his phaser as well, though not at the ready. He keeps it concealed, more or less, in a wrapped fist.

Laco passes his tricorder back to O'Rielly. He keeps his gaze on the intervening space between himself and the camp. "I've picked up some traces that I think are security systems. Perhaps one of you two knows a bit more about such things. If not, we'll just have to try to be careful."

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Security/Security Systems vs Moderate and Marginally Fails.

GAME: Randal contests his Security/Security Systems vs Moderate and Succeeds.

O'Rielly takes the PADD looking over it, holding it so Randal can see it as well since the systems may be closer to what he'd be familiar with. He looks disgusted as he looks over it. "I think we needed Harris... they might have taught about these systems in an ancient security systems class in his time. I mean, this stuff makes Pakled security look good."

Randal peers at the display. "Yeah.... well, my guess is they're managing with what they have. It's primitive, but affective." He points to one of the blips. "These sensors are are keyed to mass/motion ratios. Probably set low enough to ignore small forest creatures. Now... if we were patient and had time, we could approach one of them, walking very slowly and carefully so as not to trigger its detection threshold. But that will take a lot of time. I mean, we have to move very, very slowly." He shrugs. "But taking one out would open enough of a hole for the rest of us to cross quickly."

Laco rolls his eyes. "Yeah, lets bring along the whole murdering federation science council. Hey, maybe Commander Goodwin could have come along too." He spares a glance at O'Rielly. "In case you forgot, this mission isn't occurring. Just tell me what you can about bypassing that junk." He then turns to check out what Randal is talking about. "That's more like it. Keep it up, Captain Thorne, and I might not vaporize you with the rest of the witnesses. Will disabling a node cause any undue suspicion? Can it be made to look like an accident? A grumbling repair team would probably give us a lot more time to move in than an armed patrol investigating something suspicious."

O'Rielly looks over impressed towards Randal. "Would it detect phaser fire do you think? With maybe the right angle we could cause a tree to smash into it, taking it out for us while maintaining the illusion of an accident? It'd give us probably enough time to get in and out before they realize something's not quite right about everything."

Randal raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, thanks," he mutters to Laco. "Anyway... if it's done right, yeah, someone could disable it. I could, I'm sure." He smirks. "That could work. We'd have to move fast to get past the sensor and away before the crew got here. The other option could be to set off a whole swath of sensors. Make them think it's a cascade failure, or that they need to lower the sensitivity of the sensors."

Laco takes the PADD back from O'Rielly. "I like the second option, but it may be difficult to do with just the three of us. It might just look like a bunch of idiots running around trying to set t hings off. Which is what it would be, really. Lets keep it simple. Take out one of the nodes, and slip through."

O'Rielly nods and looks over to Randal now.

Randal nods. "Right then. Keep an eye on your tricorder for a change of activity as I'm going out there. If it's a silent alarm, I might not realize I've triggered it until too late." Pause. "So, should I go ahead and do this? Once I get started I'll have to finish. Or fail."

Laco reactivates the PADDcorder, and begins to scan. "Do it. Once it's done, move forward along the path we'll need to take to follow. If you think you've pulled it off, wave us forward. If you think you've failed, just come back. We'll be watching. If *we* think you screwed it up some how, O'Rielly will hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a skreech owl."

O'Rielly grins as he looks to Randal, "And you'll recognize it by the fact that it will probably sound nothing like either animal."

Randal raises his eyebrows. "You know, I have absolutely no idea what the difference between a barn owl hoot and a skreech owl hoot is, anyway." He sighs. "Oh, forget it. If I hear someone trying to imitate any sort of animal, I'll just head back. Right?" He starts to slink forward, carefully and quietly, toward the nearest perimeter sensor.

GAME: Randal spends a courage point.

GAME: Randal contests his Stealth+A vs Moderate and Marginally Succeeds.

GAME: Randal contests his Athletics vs Moderate and Succeeds.

There is a very, very tense moment where, at one point, stepping on something small and furry, Randal almost overreacts to its overreaction and moves a touch too fast in the wrong direction. But he steels himself and lets the critter move one way, he moves along on his course, and soon he is practically standing atop the sensor unit, within just a meter or so of it.

Laco watches the tricorder anxiously for some kind of indicator, leaving O'Rielly to watch Randal.

O'Rielly definitely looks nervous there for a moment while watching Randal, but sighs one of relief when he makes it through without apparently triggering anything. "Could've been worse," he starts quietly. "You probably didn't hear about the naked woman who ran into me on one mission..."

GAME: Randal contests his Security/Security Systems vs Routine and Succeeds.

Randal exhales as the nasty little woodland creature bolts off away from him. He creeps forward again, very slowly, very carefully, until the sensors is within arm's reach. Then he reaches down slowly, and presses a button on its surface. He quickly reaches in with his other hand and taps a few other controls, and once that's done, he waves over to Laco and O'Rielly, unseen in the distance from which he came.

Laco bolts from the hiding spot, running across the intervening land to the camp and next available cover.

O'Rielly follows right behind Laco, feeling his coat fly behind him.

"Right," Randal says quietly as the others join him at the sensor. "Now where to, fearless leader?"

Laco recommences the scan. "That depends on if you screwed up or not. We're close, so we need to move fast. You two, keep an eye out for any activity in the camp."

GAME: Randal contests his Search vs Challenging and Fails.

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Search vs Challenging and Dramatically Succeeds.

GAME: Laco contests his Personal Equipment/Tricorder vs Routine and Succeeds.

O'Rielly looks around for a long moment. "There's no activity, but there's a hole in the fence over there. It's a trap most likely, but not for us."

"Really?" Randal peers at the edge of the camp. "I guess I'll take your word for it. But if it's not for us, then who's it for?"

"Irrelevant. Move up to the wall." And with that, Laco is moving towards the stone barrier crouched in a stealthy hustle.

Randal shrugs. "Alright, if you say so," he replies, with some apprehension, as he follows along toward the camp.

And just like that, it is done, the small group is at the wall, hugged up against it, still apparently undiscovered.

Laco leans up against the wall, and quickly works his tricorder. His voice is a slightly-out-of-breath whisper. "Alright. Trying to locate the target." DeKuyper is a target now? "Keep an eye out. There won't be time for permission, so shoot first and ask questions later. It is what stun settings are for."

"Wait," Randal says urgently. "I thought we wanted to find out what was going on? How are we supposed to do that if we shoot everyone silly?" There are also traces of defiance creeping into his tone.

"How would we find out what is going on if they shoot us first?" Laco inquires. "Just keep an eye out."

GAME: Laco contests his Personal Equipment/Tricorder vs Difficult and Fails.

Randal scowls. "So, what? You're gonna shoot first?" He sounds incredulous. "Just what are you trying to accomplish here, huh? Besides, these people are supposed to like us. Though I'm increasingly starting to wonder why." He keeps his voice very hushed, but the harshness still comes through.

Laco continues to fiddle with his tricorder. What it is telling him seems to increase his irritation further. "It's an unpleasant nap in a field." Laco pauses. "Well, most of the time it is just a nap. Either way, I don't know what kind of weapons the Occans have, but I'm not going to be my life on them having a stun setting. Do what you're told."

O'Rielly readies his phaser and looks over its settings once more. "Well, perhaps the element of surprise will help. If they'd be expecting a warning signal from that sensor, they'd be ready for an ambush... we may not be expected at all."

"Do as I'm told? Or what? You'll strand me here?" Randal smirks. "You'll kill me? You seem to be forgetting, I'm not exactly one of your lackeys that you can push around however you like. And these people aren't just a bunch of witless idiots you can stun and handcuff whenever you feel like it." This is probably the worse time to have an argument, even a quiet, whispered one, but Randal either doesn't get it, or won't be trifled by it. "I didn't come here just to help you stun everyone, find your wayward friend and beam on home. Something's /wrong/ here. And it has something to do with your actions, whether you like it or not. Don't make it worse."

. o O O'Rielly thinks, "And you don't think that Lt Laco won't do anything to you later, or maybe even now because of this?"

Laco looks up at Randal. "Yes, Mister Thorne, if you get in the way I will kill you. Don't harbor any false assumptions about that. It isn't something I'd like to do, but if I need to, I will. Get in my way, and I'll swat you aside. If you aren't going to cover this mission team, give your phaser to Mister O'Rielly. That is what it is there for." He turns to the red-headed officer. "I can't locate DeKuyper by means of his biometrics. Suggestions?"

O'Rielly frowns and starts to look around. "Seems to me like we'll have to go in there and find him manually." He looks to Randal, "We could try sending Randal here in first. Can you tell if there are any biosigns near that hole, or maybe automated security systems?"

"We don't even know for sure that DeKuyper's here," Randal interjects. "Or alive. You know, this is a recruiting camp, and they don't know their perimeter's breached. We could probably blend in with the other recruits. How many people are in the camp?"

. o O Randal thinks, "Well... /I/ could blend right in, at least."

Laco works at his tricorder to attempt to determine the answer to those questions.

O'Rielly starts to look around some more, attempting to see if he notices anything else that might be of interest.

Randal looks around with wariness behind them in several directions, starting to get edgy about staying still in one place for so long in these circumstances.

GAME: Laco contests his Personal Equipment/Tricorder vs Routine and Marginally Succeeds.

Laco says, "About fifty." He gestures absently at the hole. "Randal, investigate.""

Randal smirks. "Right, send the expendable one in first," he remarks, though it's said more so with dry humor than resentment. He slinks forward, through the hole in the wall and into the encapment, to have himself a brief look around.

GAME: Randal contests his Stealth+A vs Difficult and Fails.

GAME: Randal contests his Search vs Moderate and Marginally Succeeds.

GAME: Randal spends a courage point.

GAME: Randal contests his Dodge+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.

There is the sudden sound of a whine and a weapon blast, mingled with the sound of someone rolling along the ground with an expenditure of energy.

Laco's eyes just kind of bulge as he watches Randal slip *through* the trapped hole, rather than just checking the hole itself out. "What are you---?" Perhaps that last bit is a mite too loud, but Laco is obviously surprised from the look on his face. He is up and following a moment later. He doesn't go through the hole, but he peers through it.

O'Rielly heads around the hole to cover the other side of it, looking through it as well, though doing his best to stay behind cover.

GAME: Randal contests his Athletics/Running vs Moderate and Marginally Fails.

Randal rather misconstrued what Laco meant by 'investigate.' Catching sight of the turret swinging over in his direction, he quickly dives to the ground to avoid the first barrage. He attempts to scramble to his feat and make a dash for the nearest bit of cover, but there's no way he'll get that far in time, so he simply dives to the ground again, hoping the turret isn't smart enough to track on his continued evasive gymnastics.

GAME: Randal contests his Dodge+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Sure enough, the very visible turreted system, firing some low-grade, low-yield, but good-enough-for-perimeter-defense energy beam, strafes over Randal's prone form.

Laco slams the side of his fist into the stone wall, then calls out. "Deactivate your turret! We surrender!" Then, in a more conversational tone to O'Rielly, "Do not return fire. I'd rather a full firefight didn't erupt here."

O'Rielly nods and bends down, attempting to conceal the type I in his hand in a space in his boot.

Randal gets up again and tries to make another dash for the nearby patch of scrub, hoping to get out of the turrets range before he worries about anything else, for the moment.

GAME: Randal contests his Athletics vs Routine and Succeeds.

It seems the turret continues to track back and forth, but now the firing hesitates, as if someone is taking manual control and debating at whom or if to fire.

Laco calls out a single word at the very top of his lungs. "DeKuyper!"

. o O Laco thinks, "Please, oh please by all the stars in the galaxy let him be a traitor. Er...wait..."

O'Rielly finishes concealing his weapon and puts his hands against the wall in case they're already being watched.

Randal ducks down behind the bush. Since it seems that open hostility will be something that will be avoided if possible, for now, he attempts to stash the Type-I somewhere among the folds of his clothing, hopefully where a cursory search might overlook it.

After a moment, the turret seems to go into a standby mode. Soon, movement of people can be seen. "Identify yourselves," a voice calls out.

Laco drops his phaser down the front of his shirt. Thank goodness it is only a Type I. "We're friends of DeKuyper. Tell him that. We've no intention of doing anything to anyone here. We just came to talk."

O'Rielly relaxes a little, removing his hands from the wall and straightening up his clothes.

Randal waits patiently, not taking any extra effort to attempt a serious hiding behind the bush, but not making any moves to depart either. He also remains quiet.

"Well, you've certainly come a long way," a voice calls out. "Alright. One of you can come in. The other two stay right where we can see you."

Laco sighs, loudly, and steps through the hold, hands half-way raised. His hood is still down over his face. "Where's DeKuyper?"

O'Rielly just remains where he is, looking through the hole though trying to get better tabs on the base.

Randal shrugs faintly, intepreting that he falls in the 'stay right there' category, so he does just that.

There is the hustle-bustle of activity, and after a minute or so, a big, burly, bearded man emerges from a door. He is wearing ragged clothes, like someone used to living in the woods, and steps forward a few paces. "Alright, alright," he says, to someone behind him. Then, ahead, in Laco's direction: "Just stay right there, or we're both in a lot of trouble, friend."

Laco comes to a stop. "Grigor DeKuyper I presume? You haven't written home in a long time." He pauses a moment. "Dad got worried. Perhaps you'd like to explain what you've been up to."

DeKuyper pauses for a moment, but only a moment, as if it was the tone rather than the words that surprised him. "Yeah, well, this isn't a sleepaway camp. They don't let us send postcards home. Tell Dad that I know he never saw eye to eye with either of us politically, but I'm doing good work." He moves in closer and closer to Laco as he talks and his last words, a low hiss, are for the other man alone: "You are pretty damned lucky they're breaking down this place in two or three days and we're moving on. Keep it up and you may walk out of here."

Laco lowers his voice as well. "What are you doing, DeKuyper? Are you planting yourself, or have you decided to go on some kind of fool's crusade?"

O'Rielly very slowly moves to sit down on the ground beside the fence, waiting.

Randal glances around into the darkness around him, then focuses again on the dimly recognizable shapes of Laco and DeKruyper, conversing quietly in the distance.

"They used to call it being Shanghaied," quietly. "I was given two very unpleasant choices and chose the lesser unpleasantness, at first. I've earned a bit of trust, though that may go out the window. If I can make this work, it'll be worth it. If not, they can put my name on a plaque in a garden most folks will never see."

Laco continues to whisper, "Are they aware of what you are?"

O'Rielly looks at his sleeves, admiring the coat he's chosen to wear for the occassion

Randal sighs tensely and continues to wait while Laco sorts things out with DeKruyper.

DeKuyper says "I don't know, but if they did, they might not care. These people are Social Justice types." He flicks a glance one way, then the other. "And we have to break this up now. They're already more suspicious than I like. Remember, just play it cool." And he steps back and shoves at Laco. "Now go on, kid. Tell Dad you saw me. Tell him I'm fine. Tell him I ain't coming home until the folks in New Jakarta see reason again. And stop dragging your pals into this sort of thing. They don't deserve the trouble."

Laco rolls with the shove, but continues to stand there. He raises his hands to the edge of his hood, but leaves them there. And so they stand there, for a long, long moment. "DeKuyper...I can get you out of here. Or, perhaps you don't want to leave. You are dangerously close to picking sides. That *could* be a very bad thing."

O'Rielly starts to check out his communicator discretely

Randal scratches the back of one hand with the other, and his eyes dart from Laco, to the doorway from which DeKuyper appeared, and the breach in the perimeter wall. Though his edginess is increasing, he remains rooted to the spot as yet.

"Go on, I said!" But then, almost immediately, he comes forward to fling his arms around Laco in what looks like a manly bear hug, the kind one would give aexasperating little brother. "Aw, crikey, Willem, I'm sorry. You just really make me mad." And then, more quietly, he says "This is what we do, friend. We choose sides. You know what mine is, and it means having to pretend to be on other people's, in order to get into their most secret places. I've got a backup signalling device stashed. I'll use it in a week or two more when it's safe. Now, get the hell out of here this time, and I'll use what's left of my reputation with these people to cover you while you leave."

Laco doesn't return the hug, but does lower his arms. "Fine. Don't make me regret leaving you here. Try to keep these numbskulls from doing anything as brutal as that attack on the weapons convoy. And get them to stop masquerading about under my banner!" A sigh.

. o O Laco thinks, "This was something I did not expect. I expected him to either be a prisoner, or a willing collaborator. Now, I'm left with the prospect that he'll be the ones to bring this Party down. Neither side is clean in this civil war, but desparate times call for desparate measures. I of all people know this. And if I had to pick a side myself...."

O'Rielly stands back up again very slowly.

Randal demonstrates brief alarm when DeKuyper throws his arms around Laco, but when it's clear the gesture was one of friendship and not attack, his stance relaxes again, though it only returns to the tense, waiting anxiously level it's been since the turret stopped firing at him.

GAME: Laco contests his Fast Talk vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Randal spends a courage point.

GAME: Randal contests his Fast Talk+A vs Moderate and Fails.

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Fast Talk vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Laco contests his Stealth vs Routine and Marginally Succeeds.

Though it is rough going, the next few minutes of tense conversation at arm's length yield an equally tense departure. Randal's natural tendency to resist authority, ultimatums, and the like causes a few dirty looks, especially with the muttered threats that usually pass along. But after the dire warnings not to betray the Revolution, the three men are allowed to withdraw, and since the sun has still not yet peeked fully over the horizon at sea, Laco has managed to keep his face at least mostly concealed by his hood and the pre-dawn light, but it is clear that more than a few of them are suspicious enough. The trio gets away, making it back to the forest, but it is not entirely clear they are unwatched.

Laco, once they are fairly far into the woods, finally speaks. He doesn't very pleased, despite the fact that they have a friendly agent planted within one of the factions. "O'Rielly, get us out of here. Call the Cyrano."

O'Rielly works over his communicator for a moment, rigging the burst transmission. "Cyrano, three to beam up," he says quietly before sending it, but he starts to look around, wanting to make sure they're really alone.

"So," Randal says, "What did we find out, anyway?" His eyebrows arch, and he glances behind himself along the path they took away from the camp.

. o O Laco thinks, "I should have brought him back anyway."

"Shut up, Thorne." Laco barks. "I accomplished the mission I was sent to accomplish. You can consider the secondary objectives scrapped." He turns to face the man, "And I don't want to hear it. We have a man in their organization now. He can influence them, hopefully. I suppose that is what we will have to be happy with."

. o O Laco thinks, "I hope they're still listening. If the see the beamup, even better."

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Search vs Moderate and Succeeds.

O'Rielly continues glancing around and steps closer to Laco. "We were followed, we should have a few minutes to get rid of him..." He motions in the direction very subtly

Randal scowls back at Laco. "This mission wouldn't have gotten as far as it had without my help, thank you," he replies, angered. "So..." He breaks off what he's saying as O'Rielly interjects. He doesn't look in the indicated direction, of course, but keeps his eyes locked on Laco and says, quieting his voice, "Now what? Beaming out under their noses is going to be a little bit off-putting, don't you think?"

Laco glances at O'Rielly as he speaks, then gives Randal a long look. "Indeed it might.

. o O O'Rielly thinks, "Thank you Captain Obvious"

Laco glances at O'Rielly as he speaks, then gives Randal a long look. "Indeed it might." He lowers his hood and crosses his arms. "They'll probably just assume they lost us in the foliage. After all, we got as close as we did undetected. I don't want to make the Cyrano's job any more difficult by moving about."

O'Rielly nods, "maybe we can find a small area for cover right around here that'll hide us from view."

GAME: O'Rielly spends a courage point.

GAME: O'Rielly contests his Stealth+A vs Challenging and Succeeds.

GAME: Randal spends a courage point.

GAME: Laco contests his Stealth vs Challenging and Marginally Fails.

GAME: Randal contests his Stealth+A vs Challenging and Fails.

And so it is that a moment later, with the 'stand by' signal received from Cyrano, that O'Rielly finds a thicket. But Laco, lagging a bit as he continues ruminating or fuming or whatever, does not make it entirely into the thicket as the beam wraps around the trio.

Cut to the interior of USS Cyrano.

"And what if they get close enough to see the transporter beam?" Randal asks, in a low but insistent tone. "If they see us beam out, they'll know who DeKuyper's friends are." And of course, Randal's insistent arguing the point isn't very conducive to actually hiding. In fact, the last part is said, ironically, as Randal is rematerializing aboard the Cyrano.

Laco tosses the PADDcorder onto the deck, and starts taking off his jacket. Mission accomplished, but Laco still doesn't look particularly pleased. "Sorry, Thorne. I don't think things went the way either of us wanted them to go." He glances towards the cockpit, then approaches the shifty fellow. He whispers, "Exactly my intention, Mister Thorne. Don't tell O'Rielly."

Randal seems a bit nonplussed at first, before he replies in a whispering tone that still manages to be harsh, "What? Doesn't that put DeKuyper in danger?" He tilts his head as somethin occurs to him. "Or does it? I thought those guys were supposed to be pro-Federation..."

Laco nods slightly. "Indeed. Either they'll let him continue to help, perhaps excluding him from the most sensitive of tasks, or simply remove him from their operations. I don't think they'll kill him. They know I know where he was."

Seegar is sitting at the main controls. "Sir, welcome back. Home, or another pass?"

Randal frowns. "I don't understand. If... they're pro-Federation, why can't you guys just, you know. Approach them openly?" He shrugs. "I'm still not sure what's going on down there. Something just isn't adding up." He glances toward Seegar, and decides perhaps to leave it at that, his whispering lapsing into silence.

Laco says to Randal quickly, "Because, still, we can't get involved. DeKuyper isn't there to help them, he's there to pretend to help, and feed everything they do back to us. And who knows, perhaps next week we'll be dealing with the Occan government again. And then, perhaps, DeKuyper will be phasering a few revolutionary leaders." Then, the former science officer looks up, smiles, and steps away from Randal. "Home, Mister Seegar. DeKuyper is fine, and hard at work. I'm sure he'll be reporting in soon enough."

"Aye, Sir. Homeward bound."

And with that, USS Cyrano kicks into warp drive, and is gone...