The desk was finally tidy. Satisfied with a job well done, Kahsil stepped back to admire his work. The boss, he had discovered, liked everything neat and in its place… with the notable exception of his desk. How anyone was able to find anything amongst the pile of padds, notebooks, maps and all the other paraphernalia that Krang seemed to consider necessary, Kahsil really had no idea.

Retrieving the data padd that was the reason for his visit, he returned to his own workspace in the office he shared with other agents of similar rank. As Krang's aide, he'd been promised an office of his own, but it was not yet ready for him. He didn't mind; he was new here and it was good to have company while he worked.

Leandra was in there, perched on the desk of one of his colleagues, a Terran lieutenant who belonged to Starfleet Intelligence, showing him something on a comm padd. They were talking to someone via commlink and laughing at whatever they were looking at. Kahsil did not quite know what to make of the human woman who had been brought in to replace Rhiana. The boss didn't like her, he knew that, although he wasn't sure why. Clash of personalities, he supposed, or maybe her background. An ex-mercenary, she doubtless had a murky past, but whatever the reason, he'd found her to be friendly and helpful, and she had a wicked sense of humour.

"Hey, Kahsil…" Looking up and seeing him, Leandra called him over to join them. "Come and look; you'll love this."

Judging by their laughter, it was something funny. Intrigued, he approached, circling round the desk to come up behind her and look over her shoulder. She tensed slightly, shifting sideways to give him room. That was something else he'd noticed about her; she didn't like men, especially not Klingon males, getting too close to her. He wondered why but dismissed it as irrelevant for now. The boss might not get on with her, but he trusted her and that was good enough for him.

"Oh!" The image on the padd was not what he had expected. Looking uncomfortable and out of place, the security captain was seated on a fairground ride, in a ridiculous pink teacup with his daughter on one side of him and his little grandson on the other. The picture was slightly blurred, indicating movement. Kahsil grinned. "Brilliant. How did you get hold of this?"

"You can thank Mark," Leandra said, gesturing towards the padd.

"I took it off the park security feed." Kahsil recognised the voice as being one of the two agents he'd set to follow the boss and make sure he was safe. "Thought you might want to see it. He spotted me, by the way, so I've backed off a bit. Still, he hasn't noticed Jacob yet so…" There was silence and then a muffled swearword, one that Kahsil knew to be very rude, followed by silence again.

"Mark?" It was Leandra who spoke first. "Is everything all right?"

"No, it's not!" No longer amused, Mark sounded panicked now. "He's gone! The boss is gone! Someone's taken him!"

"What do you mean, taken him?" Kahsil asked sharply. "What's going on down there?"

"He was buying an ice cream. I thought I saw someone approaching the children and looked away for a moment to check on them, and when I looked back, two men had hold of him and they beamed away.

Kahsil and Leandra exchanged a horrified gaze as the agent filled in the details. This was absolute disaster and for a few tiny nanoseconds, neither of them knew what to do. The ex-mercenary was the first to recover. "I'll call Starfleet. Kahsil, talk to the local police, make sure they realise just how serious this is."

"Understood," the Klingon said grimly, reaching into his pocket for his own communicator. "Mark…"

"Yes sir? What do you need me to do?"

"Get the park locked down and make sure the kids are okay," Kahsil instructed him urgently. Krang would never forgive them if their negligence caused harm to his daughter and grandson. "Their safety comes first. I'm sending a team down to assist you as soon as possible. In the meantime, find out what you can and report back."

"Yes, sir, already on it."

Kahsil glanced across at the agent on whose desk Leandra had been perching, and whose name he could not quite remember. "Get that organised would you, Lieutenant. I want every available agent down there. Tear the place apart if you have to. Cooperate with local law enforcement but make it clear that we have jurisdiction. If there's any trouble over that, refer them to me."

"Yes sir," the lieutenant said crisply. Somehow, he didn't think jurisdiction was going to be a problem, not once they saw Kahsil's face. The Imperial Intelligence colonel was, generally speaking, calm and courteous, exhibiting an innate understanding of Terran ways of doing things that made him very easy to work with, but underneath all that, he was still a Klingon warrior – and right now, that warrior was angry and maybe even afraid, as indeed, they all were. It was a dangerous combination for a Klingon. The mask of affability was gone as though it had never existed, and it would be a very stupid person who crossed the colonel in his current mood.

With no further ado, Kahsil reached past Leandra and cut the call. FedKIN was now on an emergency footing and there was work to be done.

The call from Leandra came through direct to Mackenzie's comm system, its Priority-One coding allowing it to bypass the secretary who usually screened his calls to make sure that he was not disturbed unnecessarily. The Admiral frowned as he accepted the call. In all of the sixteen or so years that they'd worked together on the starbase, he could not remember FedKIN ever using the emergency channel in this way. "What's wrong, Krang?"

"It's not Krang, it's Leandra." The shrill, almost panicked note in the feminine voice immediately put Mackenzie on notice that whatever she wanted, it was nothing he was going to want to hear. "We have a major emergency on our hands, Admiral. This is as serious as it gets, and I need you to listen and not argue or…" She didn't bother to finish that sentence, but he heard the missing words anyway. Or ask stupid questions.

"I'm listening."

"Krang is gone…"

The blunt words were horrifying. Shocked questions rose unbidden to his lips as he listened to her report, but he bit them back. She was right, there was no time for stupid questions. Missing? How could his old friend and brother be missing? It wasn't possible, not from a children's play park. Beaming? That shouldn't be possible either. Hadn't they told him a transporter block would be in place?

He shook himself. How it had happened were important, but it was an issue for later. The only thing that mattered right now was to find Krang and it was imperative that he act immediately. There was no way of knowing just how much time had been wasted already. His hand came down hard on the control board, sending the starbase to yellow alert. Thinking quickly, he set an orbital block in place and opened a channel to his wife, ordering her to mobilise the fleet.

In moments, all over the Starbase docking ring, there was a rush of activity as officers were scrambled and the fleet came to life.

The Meeting Post was a big, public room located in a building that appeared to be constructed of wood somewhat in the style of an old-fashioned Terran hunting lodge or chalet. It nestled in a little copse of mature trees, fitting beautifully into the parkland environment. The effect was completed by the hanging baskets and window boxes, filled with brightly coloured and pleasantly scented flowers. It was, of course, an illusion; for safety reasons, the materials used were much more modern than they appeared.

Inside, the wall on the left-hand side was covered with interactive displays which gave information about the park and its attractions, as well as explaining the conservation work that was ongoing in the wider park and showcasing the ecology and wildlife of the region. Arwen's mother had taught her a lot about botany, and under better circumstances she would have been interested in the displays, but not today. The wall directly in front of the entrance hosted a bank of drinks dispensers and replicators, where for a few credits, which would be used to fund the ongoing work, snacks such as crisps, biscuits and chocolate could be found. They didn't interest her any more than the displays did.

The right-hand side of the room was where the desks of park employees with various public service duties were located. Not surprisingly, that area was packed out with anxious and in some cases angry visitors, demanding to know what was going on and why they weren't being allowed to leave the park. Navigating a path through the crowd, the warden ushered the little girl into a private side room. It was supposed to be private, meant for staff only, but there was no chance of getting anything done in the public office.

The warden got the children settled and commed the police again. This time it was a sergeant who answered the call. The park was being searched, he was told, and Starfleet Security had been informed. He should concentrate on getting the children back to their family and leave the rest to law enforcement. It was, apparently, all under control.

Following that he put in a call to the starbase. Honouring the little girl's request, he asked to speak to the admiral in charge. Getting through was not easy, but then he had not expected it to be. The base was on alert, and he was shunted from person to person, eventually ending up with a pleasant looking, middle-aged woman who called herself Catherine and told him that she was Admiral Mackenzie's secretary.

"I'm sorry," she said, and to her credit she managed to look genuinely regretful – although, the park warden thought, she was probably just really good at her job – she'd have to be to work for someone like the Admiral. "We are currently on an emergency footing; the Admiral is busy. I can take a message for you, and I will make sure it gets to him as soon as possible."

The warden shook his head. "That's what I'm calling about," he said, speaking quickly in an effort to prevent her from cutting him off. "I have his niece here; she…"

The shrill sound of another incoming call at her end prevented him from continuing. A flash of irritation crossed the secretary's face, gone so quickly that the warden wondered if he had imagined it. "One moment…" She reached to mute the comm, but not before he heard an obviously incensed, masculine voice shouting at her. "…demand to speak to the admiral, how DARE you block our departure! Don't you know…"

There was the flash of irritation again, not so well hidden this time, before the comm went silent. She returned only a few moments later, but to the warden and his young charge, the seconds ticking past felt more like hours. "My apologies," she said smoothly, "I'm sure you appreciate that things are a little fraught here. Now… you said you have the Admiral's niece with you?

"I do," the warden said, "and she needs to get back to her family. She's asked for her Uncle James and since she's the primary witness, I think he's going to want to hear what she has to say."

The secretary thought for a moment, then nodded as she decided what to do. "I'm going to go and speak with him personally. Please bear with me, I may be some time. If the call disconnects, I have your comm details and will call you back."

"We'll wait," the warden promised, and the view of the Admiral's secretary faded, to be replaced by a rotating logo depicting the Klingon trifoil against a background of the Federation flag. He glanced across at the worried little girl, sitting in a chair holding the toddler who exhausted by all the tension, had finally stopped crying and fallen asleep. Until her family came for her, she was his responsibility. He couldn't abandon her now; he would wait as long as it took.

"…idea how many freighters have left the starbase in the last three hours," the half-Klingon admiral was demanding of her husband as Catherine slipped quietly into his office. "Or even how many were passing within transporter range?"

"Too many," Mackenzie admitted dourly. "Do what you can, Kehlan. There's a Klingon fleet on its way to support you, and the Romulans have agreed to watch their borders – although I don't completely trust that but leave it to me to deal with that problem. Concentrate on anything heading towards the Federation."

"Understood," Kehlan said crisply. She was on the bridge of her flagship, pacing restlessly up and down as she spoke. A Nebula class ship with tactical pod, Endeavour was old, and by all rights, should have been retired years ago. Instead, the ship been extensively upgraded, and under that outdated-looking exterior were state-of-the-art engines, weapons and sensors that had caught more than one pirate by surprise.

"We've already sent out an 'emergency stop' signal. Most of the ships have complied, although believe me, they're voicing their displeasure very loudly. Three have run, so we're chasing them down and we'll search them first. They're bound to be hiding something."

Mackenzie grimaced. "Be careful, Kehlan. Whoever did this is clever. It's been well planned and executed. Krang is an experienced operative. He knows the score, and besides, I know FedKIN had someone discreetly guarding him. They should never have been able to get near him."

"I want to know how they managed to beam through a transporter shield," Kehlan said. "I don't like this at all. It has the potential to become a major incident, and besides, Krang is family." An indistinct voice spoke to her in the background, and she turned momentarily to listen. "James, I have to go. We've caught up with the first freighter and are ready to board."

As she signed off and his screen went blank, he turned, hearing a faint noise by the door, and found Catherine standing quietly, waiting to speak to him. That she must have overheard his conversation with his wife did not concern him in the least. Catherine had worked for him since his promotion to the admiralty and she'd proved her loyalty and discretion over and over again. "Ah, Catherine. I was about to call you, actually. Can you…"

"Admiral," she cut him off, causing him to raise a surprised and slightly annoyed eyebrow. She almost never interrupted him, especially in the middle of an emergency like this. "I have an urgent call on hold that you really need to take.

The warden was a young man, in his early twenties and he'd once harboured ambitions to join Starfleet. Shyly, more than a little awestruck at talking to such a high-ranking Starfleet officer, he told the admiral everything he knew, which was, admittedly, not a lot. Aware that time was passing far too quickly, he was careful to be concise while at the same time trying not to leave anything out.

Mackenzie's expression darkened as he listened to the explanation. "The children are safe, I assume? Are they with you?" At the warden's nod, he continued, "I want to talk to Arwen."

"Yes, sir." The younger man turned to beckon to the little girl, and now that he'd moved, Mackenzie could see her in the background. She approached nervously. "Your uncle wants a word with you," Mackenzie heard him explain as he vacated the chair for her, carefully relieving her of the sleeping toddler.

She settled herself in front of the viewscreen. "I'm here, Uncle James."

"Arwen, I need you to think very hard, what did these men look like? Did you see anything at all that might help identify them."

Carefully, the child recounted everything she'd seen, doing her best to remember all the details of what the men had been wearing and her conclusions on that subject. Not medics, and not police either. She didn't waste time telling him how she'd thought it was all her fault, or frightened she'd been, or how she'd struggled to hold onto Michael because he was so heavy and wouldn't stop struggling and crying. Her Uncle James would want to know all those things and comfort her, but really, he wasn't her uncle James right now, but the Admiral – and that was a good thing really, even if it was the Admiral she needed. Her father had taught her to be observant, and how to pick out the relevant facts when giving a report and it had always helped her when doing her homework. This, she supposed, was the same thing, and it was what Vavvie did for a living. "I think they did something to Daddy," she finished, "because he looked like he was asleep."

Mackenzie considered that. She was doing very well, and he didn't want to scare the child or pressure her in any way, but he really needed answers. "Do you think he was drugged? Or just ill?"

"I don't know," Arwen confessed, "but I don't think they were helping him, and he wasn't ill before. They were dragging him and he wasn't doing anything. I think he would fight them if he was even a little bit awake because Daddy would never go off leave us on our own like that."

That was true enough, Mackenzie knew. "You're right," he said soothingly. "I think they must have taken him to a ship. I promise you we won't stop searching for him. We've already stopped all orbital traffic and there's a system-wide flight ban in place. What did you see when they transported? Did you see the colour of the beam? It might help narrow down the suspects.

Her uncle hadn't promised to find him, Arwen noted, only to keep looking. Fighting down the despair, she made herself focus, reminding herself again that Vavvie needed her to stay calm and answer the questions with as much detail as possible, just like he'd taught her. "It was green," she said after a moment's thought, "with silver glittery bits in it."

Romulan. The Admiral's heart clenched. Or at least, he amended, Romulan technology, the use of which did not necessarily mean that this was a Tal Shiar operation. At the end of the Dominion War, the Romulans had signed up to the Khitomer Accords, the long-standing, if sometimes fragile alliance between the Klingons and the Federation. The Three Empires Treaty' as it had become unofficially known (even if the Federation was not actually an empire) meant that whilst the Romulans were not exactly friends, they were at least no longer outright enemies. Krang's work dealt primarily with the flow of classified information between Earth and Qo'noS, but he did deal with the Tal Shiar, and on occasion with the intelligence agencies of other worlds and powers. Even with the increasingly unstable political situation on Romulus (and what, he wondered irritably, was new there?) there was no reason for them to pull a stunt like this in order to gain information that they could have easily obtained through more legal means.

There was nothing more that the child could tell him. About to dismiss her, he realised, almost too late, that he was going to have to send someone to retrieve her, and it needed to be someone she knew and trusted. More to the point, he was going to have to tell Chrissie that her husband was missing, and that was a conversation that he could not delegate.