Nervous butterflies came to roost in Hoshi's stomach after dinner. She knew it wasn't caused by the Hadian equivalent of pasta they had eaten because she hadn't been able to eat very much.
Knowing that she was going to be in Galarn's proximity again was fueling her apprehension. She kept telling herself that Jon, Trip, and Malcolm would be with her, and they wouldn't let anything happen, but she couldn't quell her nervousness. In a strange sort of way, she was actually looking forward to meeting Poltorn -- surely he had to be better than his henchman. There was something about Galarn that touched a subliminal nerve and made her want to run away screaming.
Jon didn't want to arrive at The One Spot too early and thereby appear eager. It was a notion of which Hoshi heartily approved, if only because it meant putting off the inevitable for a short time.
She used the extra time to read the newspaper, trying to occupy her mind. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary in it, but several advertisements caught her eye. She looked with interest at the claims for "nearly scar-free surgery." Two ads even touted toe removal as the "latest in body alteration style."
Hoshi couldn't help but think there was something fundamentally wrong with people who considered it stylish to remove parts of their bodies. Maybe it was a passing fad, like piercing had been on Earth.
When they did finally leave the hotel, the darkness outside was broken only by the occasional light from a store window. Hoshi hugged her thin shawl closer, knowing she wasn't shivering from lack of warmth but from her anticipation of what they would be up against at The One Spot. The feeling that they were being watched from the shadows didn't help, either.
She recalled that gangs on Earth sometimes "owned" whole neighborhoods. That's probably why Galarn had been in the restaurant, she reasoned. He'd been checking on one of Poltorn's business interests.
The alternative, that Galarn had been tailing them, was much less appealing.
She held her clutch purse tightly in one hand, finding comfort in the extra weight that had been added to it. After they had talked in the stairwell, Malcolm had arranged for another miniature phase pistol to be transported down, and it was now nestled in a bed of Hadian paper money in her purse.
If anyone looked at it, they probably wouldn't even know it was a weapon. Malcolm had designed the casing of the mini pistol so that it was oblong, with a pad instead of a handle on one end for a grip. About the size of a deck of playing cards, it had a hidden switch so that it couldn't be fired accidentally.
There had been only enough time to make one such pistol before they left on the mission and, being the security officer, Malcolm had it in his possession. After they left Enterprise, his armory staff had made the one he had beamed down for Hoshi. Even if his staff made more, the landing party would be limited to the two they now had, as the tiny cells that powered the pistols didn't take well to transport. The only reason hers would work was because Malcolm had brought along an extra power cell for his.
The One Spot's entrance was outlined by the glow of a feeble lamp. Jon nodded to Hoshi when they arrived, and she approached the door and knocked sharply.
As it had that afternoon, the slide panel was pushed roughly to one side and a pair of eyes stared out at her. "Yeah?"
"We're here to see Poltorn. We were told we could see him tonight."
The eyes regarded her for a moment before shifting to look at the men. Again in a repeat of that afternoon, the panel slammed shut and the door was unlocked.
This time, however, the sight inside was much different. Many of the tables were occupied by Hadians, and waiters were busy taking orders and delivering drinks. The overlapping hum of many conversations filled the room.
The man who'd opened the door closed it behind them and, with an inclination of his head, led them to a table to one side of the stage. They had to cross the entire room to get to it, and Hoshi saw more than one patron eye their group.
After they were seated, Jon leaned closer to her. "Try to keep in character," he whispered.
Hoshi stared at him. She knew what she was supposed to do. It wasn't like he had to remind her.
Hoshi felt her control start to slip, but in a reckless direction. Keep in character? OK, if that's what "the boss" wanted. She rolled her eyes at him and leaned back in her chair. "Keep your pants on, lover," she said in Hadian as she lifted one hand languidly and slowly caressed his cheek.
She figured there was only a fifty-percent chance he understood what she had said, but he caught on quickly. After a moment, a smile spread slowly across his face and he took her hand from his cheek, kissing her fingertips.
She saw Trip's eyes bug out, and she could swear Malcolm was trying not to laugh. That wouldn't do, either. Turning to Malcolm, she snapped haughtily, "Keep your eyes to yourself!"
Malcolm didn't comprehend her words, but as she glared at him with her best "I'm the boss' girlfriend" expression, she saw he understood the tone. His face immediately became an impassive mask and he looked away to scan the crowd.
If it wasn't for the mission, Hoshi would be enjoying herself. She realized that, as long as she could control the situation, she could handle herself and those around her. Not to mention the kick she got out of smarting off to her superiors -- for the sake of the mission, of course.
She'd no sooner had this epiphany than a waiter bearing drinks arrived at their table. With a slight quiver of apprehension threatening her new-found composure, she saw that while three of the glasses were filled with ice and some sort of alcohol, the fourth was different. It looked just like the drink Galarn had sent to her in the restaurant.
What the hell, she thought in her new frame of mind. She had only gotten to take a sip of the drink at the restaurant, and it had tasted pretty good. This time she was going to enjoy it. Reaching out to take the frosted glass, she saw Jon give her a quizzical look.
"It's from my admirer," she whispered in his ear, indicating Galarn across the room at the bar.
She could almost see Jon's thoughts as he turned his attention to Galarn, staring at the little man. Hoshi smiled sweetly, savoring the first taste of the drink. She hadn't felt this empowered in a long time.
Hoshi played her part to the hilt. She quickly finished her drink. Catching Galarn's eye, she held up her glass to show it was empty.
Galarn turned around and waved the bartender over. Shortly, another of the fruity beverages arrived at their table.
Jon turned his glare on her. He put one arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Do you think that's wise?" he asked in her ear.
"The drink or the flirting?" she asked softly.
"Both."
"Just keeping in character. Sir."
"Be careful."
It was more than thirty minutes later when Galarn came over to their table. He'd been standing at the bar the entire time, watching the crowd. A bulge in his jacket near his chest was probably a weapon. She didn't think he had been carrying a gun when they'd first met him, but she was more focused now, noticing details.
"Poltorn wanted me to make sure you enjoy yourself," he said to Jon without preamble. "Did you like the drinks?"
"Yes, he did," Hoshi replied, slipping her hand in Jon's and giving it a slight squeeze. "Didn't you, dear?"
Heeding her signal, Jon nodded once at Galarn.
"Apparently one of you didn't like it," Galarn said, looking pointedly at Malcolm's untouched glass.
"He's a mean drunk, so Jon doesn't allow him to drink in public," Hoshi said.
"Pity. It's the best stuff in town. Your drink, though... I picked it out because it's exotic, like you."
Trying to steer the conversation in a productive direction while deliberately ignoring the lecherous look on Galarn's coarse features, Hoshi asked, "Why are we still waiting to see Poltorn?"
"He's tied up. Let's blow this joint and I'll take you to him," he said. "I think he's about ready to meet all of you. Especially you, sweetheart."
Instead of being repulsed by the endearment, she was irritated. The man was starting to annoy her, and she hoped she got the chance to squash him like a bug. That image allowed her to smile at him as she stood, unobtrusively signaling the others to get up.
They followed Galarn to the door by the stage. He led them through a storage room filled with crates of bottles, then out into an alley. A long passenger vehicle with its motor running was parked there.
When Hoshi looked at him, Galarn said, "Poltorn's not here. I'm taking you to him."
Jon came up close behind her and put a hand on her arm.
"Excuse me," she said. "Jon wants to talk to me."
Hoshi and Jon moved far enough to one side that they couldn't be overheard.
"What's going on?" Jon whispered, and to Hoshi it almost sounded like he couldn't catch his breath.
"He's taking us to Poltorn."
"I don't like this," Jon said, rubbing a hand across his face.
"I don't, either, but he's our only link to the pilot. Do we have a choice?"
Jon considered for a moment, then gestured for her to return to the small knot of men by the vehicle. Trip and Malcolm had remained there during her brief conversation with Jon, and while the armory officer was alert as usual, Hoshi noticed that Trip seemed distracted. He was shifting from foot to foot, and kept rubbing the back of his neck.
Galarn politely held the door as Hoshi got in, followed by Jon and the others. The door shut and Galarn rounded the vehicle to get in the front passenger seat. A glass partition separated the front of the vehicle from the two rear seats where the Enterprise contingent was seated.
Galarn slid the glass partition open and said almost apologetically to Hoshi, "I really didn't want to do this, sweetness, but your sober friend left me no choice."
With that, he quickly shut the glass panel and she heard a click as a latch engaged. Looking to Jon for a cue as to how to react, she saw him slump back against the seat, his eyes closed. Trip had already succumbed, his head resting against a side window.
A fine vapor began to fill the compartment.
"There aren't any door handles!" Malcom said. He pounded on the door closest to him, but it didn't give.
The gas made Hoshi cough, and she tried to hold her breath as she ran her hands over the glass panel, searching frantically for some way to open it. The last thing she saw was Galarn smiling at her as she lost consciousness.
