Michael squealed in excitement at the sight of the brightly coloured rides and entertainment characters around him as they passed through the turnstile. Krang found it almost impossible to persuade the toddler to keep still while sunscreen was applied to the tiny cranial ridges and pointed ear tips that betrayed the infant's mixed heritage. It was not strictly necessary, but Chrissie had insisted, and compliance was easier than convincing his wife that not only did neither Klingons nor Romulans need such protection, but Frontera's sun did not emit the same harmful UV radiation as that of Earth's sun.

His daughter, Arwen… and for all she was not of his blood, he and Chrissie having adopted her when she was only three months old, he loved her no less than any of his other children… was equally excited and the Klingon was hard pressed to keep both children under control as they entered the busy park.

Briefly he wondered if he shouldn't have accepted Chrissie's offer to come with him. As she'd acknowledged, her work in the botanic gardens was not urgent; an extra pair of eyes would not have been a bad thing, and it would have been nice to have her company. He dismissed the thought. Arwen was a sensible child and she had promised to behave. He trusted her. Besides, there were plenty of security officers around, and even if they got separated from him, the children were safe here.

A park officer handed him a map and attractions guide, and before long the little party had a sort of action plan and were off enjoying themselves. In the company of the children, Krang was relaxed and happy. It felt good to be off duty and out in the sunshine with nothing more important to worry about than how high he could push a swing.

"Higher, Grampa!"

Obediently the security captain pushed the swing a little harder, momentarily wondering just what his subordinates at FedKIN, or worse, his Imperial Intelligence colleagues would think if they could see him now. He sighed internally. At least it was not as bad as the teacup ride to which he'd just been subjected.

"Vavvie, look! Alice in Wonderland." Catching sight of the ride, which had just come to a halt, allowing its occupants to dismount, Arwen had immediately begged to be allowed on it.

Krang studied it doubtfully, taking in the round platform with a gigantic, plastic effigy of a little girl with a blue pinafore dress and curly blonde hair in the middle. Surrounding the figure were oversized cups and saucers in varying shades of pastel colours. Apparently, one was meant to sit in them. His daughter could be over-adventurous sometimes, but this looked safe enough for both her and Michael. He growled, carefully hiding his smile as he made a show of reluctance. "This is not on the itinerary we agreed."

"Oh, come on, Vavvie," Arwen exhorted him hopefully. "Look, there's a blue one!" She pulled on her father's hand, trying to tug him in that direction

"Boo," Michael agreed enthusiastically.

"Someone has just taken the blue one," Krang pointed out, holding onto the futile hope that with her favourite colour gone, she might change her mind. No such luck.

"The pink one then," Arwen decided, tugging again on his hand.

Laughing, he capitulated – not that the outcome had ever been in doubt – and gave her a little push towards the ride. "Off you go then." Helping the children up onto the platform and getting them settled in the oversized teacup, he fastened their restraints, and started to step back, only to be ambushed by his daughter's pleading expression.

"You have to ride with us, Daddy!" Arwen turned to the ride operator, a tall lanky lad who barely looked old enough to be out of school, let alone holding down a job. "That's right, isn't it, sir? A grownup has to ride as well."

"That's right, young lady," the operator agreed cheerfully, seemingly unbothered by the glower directed at him by the big, imposing Klingon. "That's the rules."

Pointedly glancing at the neighbouring cups filled with children who were quite blatantly unaccompanied, Krang nevertheless found himself climbing into the bowl and sitting down between his daughter and grandson. Which was how he'd come to be riding in a powder-pink teacup decorated with cartoonish flowers that he thought were meant to be Terran daisies. The music, some awful, tinkly piece by an unknown instrument, started to play, and the platform began to rotate, the over-sized teacups rising and falling and gently spinning in an intricate pattern.

As their conveyance whirled them past the yellow cup and then the blue, Krang had stiffened slightly, sensing eyes on him. He was being watched, he realised, by the group of waiting parents, and behind them, a tall man – a human, wearing blue jeans and a grey, short-sleeved shirt. Krang recognised him immediately, a security officer working for FedKIN. Mentally, he cursed his aide. He'd told Kahsil he did NOT need a guard, and he'd agreed… too easily, Krang realised now. Cursing again, although in the presence of the children he did not do so out loud, he caught the man's eye, wordlessly warning him that if this got round, if anyone else from work found out about this, he'd kill them.

"Vavvie!" Arwen was jumping up and down to get his attention. "There's an ice cream stand over there."

"And you'd like me to buy you one," the long-suffering Klingon surmised, for once not bothering to correct her use of that ridiculous name for him. A stickler for correct language, he would never admit that he actually liked it. It had been Fina, the oldest of his girls, who had been the first to use the word. Unable to decide between the Federation 'daddy' and the Klingon 'vavoy', she'd mixed the two and despite his protests, the name had stuck, eventually being passed down to his younger children.

He almost sighed. They were all grown now except for Arwen and even she was maturing quickly. How was it possible that Fina was old enough to be married with a child of her own?

Bringing the swing to a halt, he unfastened the restraints and lifted the infant from the safety seat, setting him on the ground before leading the two children to a nearby bench that faced the stage where a group of puppeteers were performing.

"Scream!" Michael agreed with his aunt.

Krang gave a growl that should have been intimidating but did not worry either child in the least. "No dairy for you, young man, you know you're allergic. You can have a fruit lolly."

"Kiwi Bear?" the little boy asked hopefully.

Based on a character from a well-known children's holo-program, the bright green and vaguely animal-shaped confection was at least made from pure fruit juice and was therefore healthy. The same could not be said for the ice cream cone that Arwen wanted, complete with chocolate flake, bright red sauce that Krang thought was supposed to be strawberry-flavoured, and a multitude of colourful candy sprinkles. He almost shuddered at the thought of how much sugar it must contain, but on the whole, both children were active and had a healthy diet. The treat would not harm them.

Arwen widened her already large eyes as much as she could. "Pleeeeaaaase Vavvie."

Unable to resist the combined appeal, Krang nodded agreeably. The ice cream stall was only a few metres away and well within sight of the play area. "Stay here then," he instructed them. "Do not wander off."

Obediently the girl lifted her nephew into her arms and settled down on the bench. "We'll be right here," she promised.

Happy that she would do as she was told, Krang headed for the ice-cream vendor. Joining the queue, he patiently waited his turn, glancing occasionally towards the children to make sure they were all right. Again, he had that faint sense of being watched, and he instinctively glanced around him, but he could see no one. It would be that khest'n guard that Kahsil had foisted on him, he told himself. He was going to have words with his subordinate about that.

It was his turn to order. "One Kiwi Bear and one ice-cream cone with all the trimmings," he requested, placing his credit chip on the counter.

The woman nodded and hiding a smile at the oddity of a Klingon buying ice cream, she turned away to open the freezer.

As he waited, a faint prickling sensation warned Krang of people approaching from behind, but his attention on the ice cream vendor, he thought nothing of it, assuming that the newcomers were simply joining the queue. He did not expect the sharp pain at the back of his neck as a hypospray injected something into the ridges of his spine. Almost immediately his vision began to blur. He started to turn to face his attacker, hand going to the knife sheathed in his belt in a futile attempt to defend himself, but his limbs would not respond and as blackness claimed him, he felt himself starting to fall.

Stocks of the kiwi-flavoured lollies were running low, and the vendor had to rummage through the freezer to find one. That flavour was not much in demand, and she hadn't bothered to order more. She regretted that now, since she would not like to disappoint her Klingon customer. Ah, there it was, the last one, hiding underneath the vastly more popular Strawberry Kitties. Retrieving the lolly, she turned to put it on the counter, reaching at the same time for an empty cone so she could prepare the ice cream part of the order.

To her surprise, the Klingon was gone as though he had never been there. He must have changed his mind, she thought with some irritation. How rude!

Turning away to put the now unwanted lolly back in the freezer, she never saw the abandoned credit chip lying in the grass.

The puppet show coming to an end, a group of actors took to the stage, dressed in various, brightly coloured animal costumes. As Michael clapped delightedly at the antics of a giant, plush bear with lurid green fur that was clearly meant to resemble the famous Kiwi character he so adored, Arwen sighed. The puppets had been interesting enough – proper wooden dolls on strings manipulated by their handlers, they were admittedly primitive, but the story they had been telling had been fun, even if it wasn't as good as the stories her father told. Vavoy was the best storyteller ever and she didn't think she would ever get too old for the tales he invented. This act, however, was aimed at much younger children and she was getting bored. Her nephew was obsessed with the stupid bear, but at least it was keeping him happy. She hated it when Michael cried, he was so loud, and she could never get him to stop. Thankfully, if he did decide to throw a tantrum, which he did quite a lot, Vavvie was here, and he always knew what to do.

Wondering what was taking her father so long, Arwen glanced across the lawn to see if he needed help carrying the ice cream treats. The girl frowned as she saw black-clad men on either side of him, their faces obscured by hoods. Her father looked as though he was asleep with the two men holding him up. Maybe he'd been taken ill, and they were trying to help him. She dismissed that idea at once. Nurses and paramedics didn't wear hoods and they had badges to identify them as medical personnel. She knew what the badge looked like; she'd seen Dr T'Lia wear it often enough… a winged staff with a snake entwined round it. She even knew what the snake meant, although she couldn't pronounce its name properly. Cad… cad-oo-cus… something like that.

These men, whoever they were had no such logo adorning their clothing. Arwen did not think they were helping, and besides, no matter how ill he might have become, her Vavvie would never go off and leave her like that without even a word.

She could only watch in horror as they pulled him away from the ice cream counter. His legs moved sluggishly, and it looked to Arwen like he was being dragged rather than walking of his own free will. The vendor had her back to the counter and saw nothing suspicious. Desperately, Arwen willed the woman to turn round, to see something, to shout for help, but she did not. It all happened so fast and despite all the people around, nobody noticed anything. Just a few paces, such a short distance they dragged him before glittering lights formed around the trio and they disappeared into nothingness.

"DADDY!" Frightened and badly upset but doing her best to fight down the rising panic that was threatening to overwhelm her, Arwen looked around her for a security officer or some other adult in authority. There were people everywhere, but they all seemed to be parents with children, moving about, laughing, joking, having fun, completely unaware of the crime that had just taken place and the little girl's need for help. Michael, of course, was oblivious, too entranced by the plush bear to notice anything wrong and even if he had, he was too young to help.

There was no one in sight wearing the olive-green park ranger uniform and Arwen realised that she was going to have to go and find someone. The map was in Vavvie's pocket, and she scrunched up her face in concentration as she tried to visualise the park layout. There was a checkpoint near the petting zoo, the enclosure where children could interact with real animals and even stroke them. It had been the next item on their agenda and shouldn't be too far away.

With difficulty she picked the protesting Michael up and began to make her way in that direction. Struggling to keep the now fractious toddler under control as he squirmed in her arms, trying to get back to the big, green bear, and dodging round the groups of people who seemed determined to get in her way, Arwen bit back a Klingon curse that she wasn't supposed to know and would have earned her a strict talking-to if her father had heard her. Well, if Vavvie had been here, she wouldn't have needed to use it, she reasoned with justifiable rebellion as she pushed her way past a gaggle of teenaged girls who had stopped right in front of her and were blocking the path.

Twice she thought she saw a park ranger, but both times it turned out to be just another civilian who was wearing a shirt of a similar colour. Frustrated and getting more panicky by the minute, she continued towards her destination. The third time, she almost ignored the man and walked past before realising her mistake. Quickly turning back, she called out as loudly as she could. "Sir… Excuse me, please… I need help!"

Seeing the scared child approaching the warden stopped what he was doing and bent to speak with her. "Do you require assistance, young lady?"

"My Daddy's gone!" she blurted, fighting the tears that were filling her eyes and trying to overflow. Now that there was a responsible adult present. it was harder to hold them back, but she couldn't afford to give into them. If she cried now, she knew she'd be like Michael and not stop… and then she wouldn't be able to help her vavvie. She was the daughter of a Klingon warrior; she had to be brave. Vavvie needed her and so did Michael. Even so, it took her a moment to control herself enough to speak clearly. "He went to get ice cream and they beamed him away!"

Scared by his aunt's obvious tension, the infant started to cry, his wails quickly escalating into a full-blown scream for attention. Arwen tried to calm him but failed. "Please, sir," she gulped.

"I'm sure we'll find him," the warden said soothingly. "He can't have gone far."

"You need to start scanning!" Arwen insisted, "He wouldn't leave us alone, he was beamed!"

The warden hit his combadge. "Park security to police headquarters. We have a little girl here who believes her father has been kidnapped."

He could almost hear the indulgent smile in the answering constable's voice. "Well, you'd better bring her in. We'll need lots of information to find him in such a busy park."

Something in the little girl's face made the warden dig in his heels. "With respect, she says he was beamed up against his will. If she's right, we need to act quickly."

"There's a magnetic shield around the park. Beaming's impossible! Little tyke's imagining things... probably playing hide and seek and got frustrated."

Arwen gave a very Klingon growl of frustration as she listened to the adults talking. "I am not imagining it," she insisted. "My daddy is important, and those men grabbed hold of him and beamed up. I saw the transporter lights."

Relatively young, and inexperienced with children, the listening constable was not convinced that this was not some sort of childish prank but thought he'd better humour the child. "Do you know your daddy's name?"

"Of course, I know his name," Arwen said scornfully. She was ten years old, not a baby and her youth did not mean she was stupid. Why, she wondered, not for the first time in this conversation, were adults so patronising when they talked to children? About to speak, she stopped, realising with some embarrassment, that she hadn't even given them her own name. With Michael crying and struggling, it was hard to think. "I am Arwen Martinez Inigan, and my father is Krang epetai Inigan. He is a FedKIN officer, and he works on the starbase." She gave the required information with great pride.

Michael stopped crying for a moment, much to Arwen's relief. "Grampy 'n' Nanna... feckin," he supplied helpfully.

FedKIN? At the other end of the radio, the constable bit back an imprecation. He hadn't worked here long, having transferred in from Earth only a few weeks ago, and did not recognise the name the child had given but he did know what FedKIN was; it had been part of the briefing and there were standing orders to cooperate with any request from that organisation. "I'll get an alert put out," he promised gruffly. He was worried now; this was rapidly becoming a serious incident and he didn't need this sort of thing this close to the end of his shift.

"Let's get you two back to the meeting post," the park officer said. Satisfied that the authorities were on the case, his job now was to reunite these children with their family. "And then I can call your Mom to come and get you."

Arwen shook her head. "Not Mummy," she insisted. Her mother would be so upset… no, devastated was a better word… when she found out what had happened. Vavvie might be seriously injured or even dead, and it was all her fault, Arwen thought miserably. If she hadn't made such a fuss about wanting to come to the park today. If she hadn't asked for that ice cream. All her fault, she thought again. The park ranger was still waiting for an answer, and with some effort she pulled herself together. "Call Uncle James. He will know what to do."

"Where does your Uncle James work? We will need his contact details."

"At the starbase," the child said, rapidly losing patience with the obstructive adults. "He's in charge of it. My daddy is in charge as well."

She was referring to Admiral Mackenzie, the beleaguered young man realised. He shivered, not liking this at all; if, as it was beginning to seem, the child's missing father was the head of FedKIN, this incident had the potential to be huge. The local police had obviously come to the same conclusion, because an alarm siren was sounding and a message being broadcast, indicating that the park was in now in emergency lockdown and no-one was to be allowed in or out. Actually, he decided, calling the Admiral was not a bad idea. It was the responsibility of the local police to do so in an official capacity, but after the conversation with the constable, he found he didn't have a lot of faith in them. The little girl had given him the perfect excuse to bypass the authorities and do it himself, but time was passing far too quickly and he'd better hurry.

"Okay, okay, don't be scared," he said, trying his best to be reassuring. "We'll call the Admiral and find your daddy. Come with me."

Reluctantly, Arwen allowed the officer to lead her away.