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- Traders' World -

--Inquiries--

16

Gamma Team had searched their first township quietly without result and Troi decided that, rather than risk the transporters being detected, they'd walk the 5 miles to their next target.

When they arrived at 'West Capital District', they found a much quieter location. It was similar in style but the people were fewer, which was a good thing as this town was the largest in their designated region.

Deanna put away her tricorder. "Nothing within the scan perimeter," she reported. "We'll start by walking the outskirts and gradually spiral in until we reach the central plaza."

"This is going to take forever," said a pooped Willow in exasperation.

"Unless you can think of a better way?" security officer Randall challenged. His youthful features were tensed to the point where his muscles seemed ready to snap. His senses were on full alert.

Buffy turned to the young guard with the short blond hair. "We could ask around," she said.

"That's not an option," replied the guard.

"If someone's seen Data around here they could point us in the right direction," she argued.

"The captain's orders were clear," stated Randall.

"We'll be doing circles all day if we-"

"You aren't in a position to question the captain's-"

"At least I know how to get the job done-"

Troi, Willow and Spike watched on as the two quarrelled for a good minute and a half until Deanna stopped them. "Alright! That's /enough/."

Everyone quietened.

"You both have a point. The way we're doing this will take us all evening. But we must keep a low profile."

Buffy and Randall began arguing their points again.

"A civilian has no authority-"

"A /what/? I'm the /Slayer/!"

They both suddenly fell silent when they realised Troi was aiming Randall's Bajoran pistol at them. "I said a low profile."

The pair shut up.

Troi quickly handed back the guard's weapon and looked about to ensure they hadn't drawn unwanted attention. "Buffy, we have our rules here. Randall, this is as much their territory as it is ours." Troi gave the situation some thought. "Buffy does have a better understanding of our target," she put to Randall, "and I feel that the advice she has offered may be the best course of action in this situation."

"But Captain Picard's orders-"

"He isn't here!" Troi retorted, seriously displeased with Randall's use of the captain's name. "And we shouldn't even be discussing him in public!"

He stepped down and seemed to wilt a little.

"I am in command of this team," Deanna went on, trying to get across that she wasn't just a counsellor but an officer. "I will take full responsibility if our superiors disapprove of my decision."

Randall nodded.

"Besides, we are the minority here. There are two of us and three of them. They are entitled to put their own expertise to use."

"Two," Spike said, attracting their odd looks. "There's two of them." He pointed at the Slayer and Willow. "And two of you. I don't actually give a toss what we do."

They realised he had nothing worthwhile to say, and turned away from him again.

"What now?" Buffy asked.

"Now," said Troi, "we find a shopkeeper who might be able to help us."

The Scoobs looked very relieved at that.

"Just let me do the talking," ordered the counsellor.

They moved off into the town but Spike, who was at the rear with Randall, seemed a little less eager to follow them.

Something didn't feel right to him.

200 metres into West Capital, Troi stopped them outside a junk dealer's place.

"We'll try here," she said, turning to Buffy. "Remember; let me handle this."

They were just on their way in when Spike coughed into his hand, getting their attention.

"What's the matter?" asked the Slayer.

"Nothin'," he said. "I'm just... gonna go back this way." He pointed back the way they had come. "I could use the fresh air." Then he realised there wasn't any. Plus he didn't breathe. "Besides, I'm startin' to feel peckish," he lied. He turned and set off walking away.

"You can't wander around here on your own," Deanna pointed out.

Spike gave her the V-sign over his shoulder and continued on his way.

Buffy approached Troi. "Don't worry, he can take care of himself."

"Something could happen to him."

Buffy smiled a little. "Well, that'd be a bonus. At least he's out of our way."

So the group set off again for the shop.

But Buffy didn't follow right away. She stayed and watched Spike go with a frown across her brow. She suspected there was more to Spike's departure than he was letting on.

They spent the next 30 minutes listening to Troi feeding the shop-teller the biggest heap of bull they'd ever heard. She was remarkably convincing. If Willow and Buffy hadn't have known better they'd have believed it themselves. And the wrinkly strange alien guy behind the 'cash register' seemed at least 2 short of a twin pack.

Deanna told him a lengthy story of how Data had betrayed a Maquis base' location to the Cardassians and her entire family had been slaughtered. The teller then listened keenly as she described Data as a rare species of Rylliac with golden-yellow skin and strange speech.

The man gave it considerable thought and said: "Don't believe I's seen anyone bearing that description 'round these parts. You might be wanting to ask around the main street, though. Best of luck with that."

But Troi was not the Bajoran she appeared to be, and her Betazoid empathy told her he was lying as much as she was.

They watched in surprise as Troi opened her cloak enough to show the teller that beneath her raggy clothes was a more than ample cleavage. "I...may be looking to start a new family," she said, "...and I may require... impregnating," she offered lewdly.

The shopkeeper began to stutter and dribble profusely before managing to spill out: "He, he-he, he was /here/. Ooh, yes, yes, he was /here/!"

Randall suddenly stepped forward and shoved his phaser in the man's ear.

Troi put her cleavage away and leaned in to him. "You were saying?"

The creepy little alien sighed in defeated sexual frustration. "He was asking after who might be in a position to supply him with experimental cloaking technology," he gave up. "Said he'd tried everywhere on this vacant planet and his patience was running thin. He, he was.../almost/ as threatening as /you/. Said he would tear out my eyes if I didn't- /Ooh/," he squeaked as Randall's gun threatened to slip right the way into his ear.

The man got the hint and said quickly: "I, I told him to go see a local Klingon big-wig. He owns an establishment - 'Heart of the Targ' - in the centre of West Capital."

Randall released him, Troi thanked him for his eagerness to help, and they all began to leave.

"I should warn you folks," he said after them. "R'Ungam is with the local criminal ring. Humans call them the Bazari Mafia. He don't take too kindly to folk asking questions. If I were you, lady, I'd forget about your loss and get to making those new babies."

The Gamma Team glanced at each other, momentarily worried, then headed out to find the /Heart of the Targ/.

About half a mile of walking later, the Gamma Team stopped.

"There," said Randall, pointing to a large bloodstained sign hanging over a recessed doorway. The text upon it was in ancient Klingon, and the image that accompanied it was rather abstract.

"Heart of the Targ," Buffy figured.

Deanna led them again with the intention to do the talking. But, when the massive scaled doorman said: "We are CLOSED for the afternoon." with an ominous growl that shook the ground beneath them, Buffy decided both threats and tall stories would be pointless.

Instead, Buffy had another lie in mind. Especially when she noticed, through the window, the large empty stage inside the bar. "We're a band," she stated and then added: "The band."

"The band?" he rumbled back at her with a frown that could quite easily have crushed any other man's eyes to a squishy pulp.

Buffy nodded once. "That's right. We just got in from... the Sunnydale...quadrant."

"System," whispered Troi.

"/System/," Buffy corrected.

"The SUNNYDALE system?" he repeated with a deeper frown. "So where are your instruments?"

Buffy panicked. "Instruments? ...Oh... we're... we're.../A Capella/!"

"/Yes/!" said Willow. "We're a barbershop quartet!"

The doorman gave them all a cynical look.

"You buyin' any of this?" Buffy asked him.

The big guy shook his fat head.

"Didn't think so. Never was any good at doing 'covert'. Well, I'll just have to do it the old-fashioned Slayer way."

A moment later, the huge guardian of doorways went hurtling through the entrance hall and crashed into a cash booth, smashing it to rubble and falling in a heavy heap to the floor.

Outside, Buffy stepped aside with a hand out. "Rank officers first," she jibed.

The three women searched through the empty building while Randall watched the entranceway, until they came to a recessed doorway that appeared to be locked. Without any wall-mounted controls around it to open the large metal entranceway it seemed they would get no further. But Troi had a couple of tricks up her sleeve.

She scanned the seal of the door with her tricorder, which gave off an odd cacophony of beeps and chirps, before she took a look at its readings. From her expression it didn't look promising.

"Can't we unlock it?" Willow asked her, drawing the hood of her cloak back to reveal her Bajoran features.

Troi shook her head. "It seems that the locking mechanism is controlled by a sensor just above the door there." She pointed up. "Most likely DNA activated."

"Whose DNA?" asked Buffy.

"That shopkeeper said this place was owned by a Klingon," replied Will. "Can we fool the sensor somehow?"

"Maybe," Troi considered. "If we had this 'R'Ungam's' DNA on record." She held up the tricorder. "But, if he's through there, there's no way to get it." She tried to scan beyond the door and shook her head again. "I'm not getting any readings."

"So we're stuck?" Buffy said with impatience. "We've come all this way, and the one person who could lead us to Data is through there, but there's nothing we can do?"

"Unless you know someone who can hot-wire the door?" Troi responded.

Well, Buffy eyed Willow.

Willow looked at Buffy.

A faint smile crept to their faces.

"You think you could do it?" Troi asked Willow.

"She can hot-wire /anything/," Buffy assured her.

A few minutes later, Troi had removed a wall panel with her phaser - on a low setting - and Willow was glaring blankly at the spaghetti junction of glowing Ferengi wiring and a mass of Klingon data chips.

"Okay," Buffy conceded, "almost anything."

Troi sat down at one of the bar's many tables in submission. "It's no use, we'll have to wait."

"Maybe I can kick the door down," Buffy pondered. "It worked before."

Troi frowned at her. "You kicked down a door on the Enterprise?"

"Well...not exactly," the Slayer admitted. "The door sort of... moved out of the way. But I could have kicked it down. The intention was definitely there."

Willow suddenly turned to them. "The Klingon owns this bar, right?"

Troi nodded.

"Then ... his DNA must be all over this place!" she concluded.

Troi got up. "Of course!"

It didn't take them long to find a recently used glass behind the bar that bore Klingon saliva. Troi then programmed the tricorder to emit that DNA code as a life-sign and called Randall back from his lookout position.

Soon the 4 of them stood before the door as Deanna waved the handset in view of the overhead sensor. It worked immediately. The door began to part in an interlocking pattern from corner to corner and, with a grinding whirr, opened slowly for the team.

It revealed a sparse turbolift.

"Not bad work for a counsellor," Buffy remarked as they got onboard.

"Technically it's /commander/," she replied smartly.

Buffy and Willow went quiet.

The doors closed behind them and the elevator began to descend.