Deep Space Three

Stardate 5960

0900 hours

The transporter effect faded as reality re-materialized around them. Kirk and McCoy stepped down from the pad and the captain looked expectantly at the Enterprise security chief, who was waiting in the room to brief him.

"Any news, Giotto?"

The chief shook his head. "Nothing definitive, sir. Her comm unit was located in the botanical gardens a few minutes ago. It was turned off. Starbase staff recall seeing her in a bar last night, but the security footage from the corridor only shows her entering alone at 2035 and then leaving alone at 2055. They're doing a facial recognition scan of all footage as we speak, and our team is performing a comprehensive search of living areas in section bravo as well."

"Door to door?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. Doctor McCoy and I will be meeting with the base commander, then—"

His communicator chirped, and he flipped it open. "Kirk here."

"Captain." The steady baritone of his first officer came through. He had left his ship in the sure hands of the Vulcan and had not expected a situation requiring his input to arise so quickly.

"Yes, Mister Spock. What is it?"

"We have received a transmission from Admiral Komack at Headquarters. He is inquiring as to the status of our progress toward Iliria IV."

He glanced at McCoy, and the doctor's quirked eyebrow told him that their thoughts were in accordance: Well, that was quicker than expected.

He cleared his throat and deliberated before replying. "Spock," he said in measured tones, "in your latest status report, you indicated lingering instability in our long-range communication systems—the ones we were to have repaired during our layover here, had our time not been cut short—did you not?"

There was a long pause from the Enterprise, before Spock replied in a combination of confusion and concern. "No, sir, I indicated—"

"You indicated," Kirk cut him off casually, "that it may be difficult to receive and transmit subspace communications temporarily, but that repairs are expected to be completed within approximately—" he paused, sifting through possible scenarios and outcomes "—three standard hours. Please send a squirt to HQ with that information and advise that at that time, we will update the admiral as to our status."

An even longer pause stretched out over the open channel, as Kirk willed from great distance that his literal-minded, by-the-book first officer would read between the lines. McCoy bounced on his toes beside him, nervous energy radiating out unchecked, adding to Kirk's edginess.

"Yes, sir," the Vulcan responded finally, cautiously, and Kirk let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I understand. I shall…make those reports and advise Admiral Komack by subspace squirt of the situation."

"Thank you, Mister Spock. I know we're all doing our best to fulfill competing priorities. I appreciate your discretion."

"Yes, sir. Enterprise out."

Kirk knew that he would pay for this later, in the form of a protracted late-night philosophical discussion around ethics and morality, and how the needs of the one do not outweigh the needs of the many, and that McCoy would be there too, a handle of bourbon to soften his arguments, and there would be no consensus but much debate. And also that secretly he considered that to be not a consequence, but a benefit.

"Sir." Giotto interrupted his thoughts, looking up from his tricorder. "It looks like base security have found something. They're asking to see you."

The Security monitoring room was cramped and stuffy, the walls lined with screens showing live feed from cameras across the station. A single desk in the center of the layout was occupied by an ensign, whose multiple-eyed tentacles waved past the video feeds in a methodical fashion. One tentacle, sheathed in a red sleeve decorated with rank insignia, extracted itself from its task and waved at the newcomers over what Kirk took to be its shoulder.

"Sirs. The doctor will see you now." Its mechanical voice projection was pleasant enough as it pointed an appendage toward a doorway at the rear of the narrow room.

"The…who?" He shot a glance at McCoy, who shrugged, and then back at the ensign, and decided to chalk it up to a glitch in its interface software.

He nodded. "Thank you, Ensign. My security team has beamed back up to the ship but wishes to convey their appreciate for your assistance." He made his way to the doorway, McCoy trailing behind, and paused for the door to slide open. Then he was momentarily struck speechless and stopped in his tracks. McCoy nearly stepped on his heels, then after only the briefest hesitation he slid sideways past Kirk and strolled into the room, extending his hand.

"Doctor Noel," he said warmly, filling the void, for which Kirk was eternally grateful.

"Doctor McCoy," she replied, returning his smile before turning to Kirk.

"Captain. So nice to see you again."

She was still ethereally beautiful, all chestnut curls and dimples, and that impish glint in her caramel-colored eyes. The unfortunate events at Tantalus V notwithstanding, not to mention his conflicted recollection of their post-Christmas party encounter, Kirk would have accepted her transfer request back to the Enterprise in a heartbeat. But he knew her desire to depart for another assignment, shortly after that nightmarish experience on the penal colony, had been in her best interest, and in his as well.

"What are you doing here, Doctor?" He knew immediately, at the briefest widening of her eyes, that it had come out more bluntly than he intended. "I mean," he amended, with a chuckle and a conciliatory smile, "we certainly weren't expecting to see an old acquaintance out here in deep space. Last I heard, you transferred to the Reliant for a long-term investigative research project."

She nodded and gestured at a grouping of chairs in the sparsely-furnished, narrow office. "Please, sit." She chose the chair closest to the wall, facing the doorway. Kirk and McCoy settled into a small sofa across from her. Kirk noticed with some surprise the lieutenant commander stripes on her uniform and wondered what she had done to advance so quickly.

"Yes, I spent some time on Reliant after I left Enterprise, mapping out crew responses to variations in mission intensity and frequency. It was…" She paused and stared into a space above their heads before continuing, "exceedingly boring."

McCoy gave a small snort. Kirk suppressed a smile and adopted a direct tone.

"So here you are on a deep space station, and here I am trying to find a missing crew member."

"Yes." Her demeanor was suddenly all business as she reached behind to retrieve a tablet from her desk. "I'm serving in a quasi-security role for the time being, Captain, working with Starfleet Intelligence to gain background in Starfleet procedures in preparation for an upcoming study in civilian prisoner risk analysis."

McCoy sensed rather than saw the captain's twitch and shot him an inquiring look, but Kirk's gaze did not waver from Noel's.

"As such, I've been job shadowing the base's backup security chief and was assigned to the initial review of your case. Chief m'Lar's is currently…indisposed."

That sent McCoy's eyebrow up. "That's quite a shift from rehabilitative therapy," he remarked.

She tilted her head at him, expression unreadable and eyes wide, and he felt a tingle at the back of his neck that he had learned in his years in the Fleet to ignore only at great peril. He gave another glance at Kirk and felt a weight settle into his gut at the impassive mask the captain's face had assumed. He feels it, too.

"Is it, Doctor?" she asked finally, turning her attention to Kirk. "What exactly is your interest in Lieutenant Solorio, and what was her role on your ship?'

He leaned back and gave her a small smile that didn't leave his lips. "My interest is in having a complete complement aboard my ship, as I'm sure you can understand, as well as ensuring the wellbeing of my crew. When one of my crew disappears, it's my responsibility to locate them. I leave the staffing of sciences to my experts, so I'll defer to Doctor McCoy on that."

McCoy shifted next to him and cleared his throat, and Kirk ignored the irritation he felt radiating out from his CMO.

"After graduating from the Academy, Lieutenant Solorio earned a doctorate in biochemistry from the University of the Southwest in North America," McCoy said. "One of the most prestigious programs on Earth, as you are doubtless aware. She then completed some post-doctorate work before applying for a starship position. I saw that we had common interests and requested her assignment to the Enterprise."

Noel leaned forward, uncomfortably close to him. "Common interests?" she asked, smiling at him with wide eyes.

He swallowed, still unsure of where or in what direction to attribute his uneasiness. "Yes, Helen." He used her first name deliberately, hoping that it might leverage him some advantage in this game that seemed to be playing out without his consent. "Her specialty is in cytotoxins. A very relevant and current area of investigation these days."

"These days…you mean, as we advance our knowledge and research against new enemies?"

He felt Kirk stiffen and his own jaw clench. "I said no such thing, Helen," he replied without inflection. She smiled at him again just for a second, showing her teeth. The image of a Rigelian eel suddenly appeared in his mind's eye, and he shuddered almost imperceptibly.

"Noted. Any indication recently that she was unhappy or distracted in her duties? Any withdrawal from normal activities or evidence of paranoia or depression?"

"No, none." McCoy replied shortly.

"Would you have known her well enough or interacted with her frequently enough to have detected and assessed those conditions?"

He bristled at her tone. "Am I being interrogated here, Helen?" he demanded, eyes flashing.

Kirk held up a hand. "Doctors, please. We all have the same concern—finding my missing crewmember. Of course, we have no reason to be suspicious of anyone at this point, right? So let's stay focused."

At that, Noel gave him a narrow glance and then nodded slowly. "Very well. I'll bring up the security footage we have now. It's visual only, but self-evident, as you'll see." She swiped her hand across the tablet and a three-dimensional image appeared between them. In the grainy projection, Kirk could make out the figure of Solorio, frozen mid-stride in a wide corridor, the straps of two bags criss-crossed over her shoulders.

"Where is that?" he asked.

"The civilian wing." Noel tapped her tablet again, and the still image came to life. The ghostly, translucent image of the lieutenant strode soundlessly through the hallway, glanced in both directions, then came to a stop in front of a set of transparent doors. Kirk could just make out the signage on the left-hand panel.

DOCKING BAY 4

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

The image of Solorio hesitated, then tapped at the entry pad. The doors opened, and harsh light spilled out, casting her figure into relief as she stepped inside. The footage froze again. There was silence until McCoy cleared his throat.

"That's it?"

Noel nodded.

"So, she entered a commercial docking bay and fell off the radar, so to speak?" he asked, inflection unreadable. Noel gave him a long look, and there was an edge to her voice and a knot along her jawline that hadn't been there two years ago.

"We aren't allowed to have cameras in certain civilian areas. That's a base policy negotiated with the trade federation, in exchange for regular deliveries of necessities out here in the middle of nowhere. There's a de facto don't ask, don't tell credo here, gentlemen, in order to ensure survival," she said tersely. "The fleet is still not at full capacity, as you both know, especially when it comes to anything other than patrol ships and Constellation class, so we depend on private merchants to fill the gap, and we look the other way when necessary. We've searched the ships that are still docked, and she's not there. She could have hopped onto any of the approximately three dozen ships that have departed in the last twelve hours or so, and we have no way of knowing which one. She's likely light years away by now."

Kirk gave McCoy a sidelong glance and saw the concern he felt inside clearly telegraphed across his CMO's features. The doctor opened his mouth, but Kirk narrowed his eyes, and McCoy sat back.

"What's base protocol in this kind of situation?" the captain asked.

Noel looked from him to McCoy, and the doctor felt her demeanor shift, her voice taking on a vaguely fervent tone. "That's a component of what I'm studying, Captain. The lieutenant is considered a deserter now, and subject to court martial proceedings, but since these actions occurred on a quasi-civilian facility, her case is an outlier. I'll continue my investigation here, freeing you to embark on your urgent mission to Iliria. We'll start tracking down the ships that have recently departed and interviewing their crew."

"I'm sure we can spare a few hours to assist your team in their search, Doctor—" he began, but she held up a hand and gave him a perfunctory smile.

"That's very generous, Captain, but Admiral Komack has already been in touch, and indicated that your priority is to continue to Iliria at your earliest convenience. Sir."

Kirk willed his jaw not to clench, not in front of her. He forced a half-smile. "Very well, Doctor. I'll verify Admiral Komack's orders—" he ignored her raised eyebrow, "and proceed from there. I trust you will keep us informed as to the progress of your investigation?"

She gazed at him, unblinking. "Captain, perhaps I wasn't clear. This case is no longer within your jurisdiction. Lieutenant Solorio is clearly away without authorization and will be charged as such-or perhaps with desertion, depending on our findings-if and when she is located."

"She's been gone less than twelve hours, Helen! You can't be serious," McCoy exclaimed and stared at her, aghast, but she did not respond. The doctor turned to Kirk. "Jim—"

Kirk held up his hand at McCoy's protest, and held Noel's gaze. She regarded him, calm and unblinking.

"Captain," she responded, ignoring McCoy's outburst, "if the lieutenant is located and recovered, her fate will lie with Headquarters at that point."

Recovered. That word sent a chill through him, for reasons he couldn't quite elucidate at the moment, but perhaps for the sterility of it. He nodded, stood, and turned on his heel, making his way toward the doorway deliberately. McCoy hesitated, then rose and followed just behind, his pent-up frustration clearly conveyed in his heavier-than-usual footfalls.

As soon as they passed the ensign and the door to the security section closed behind them, Kirk turned and gripped McCoy's shoulder, freezing the doctor's indignant protest.

"Not a word," he growled, and McCoy flinched, then nodded as Kirk drew his communicator from his side.

"Enterprise, two to beam up."