"What do you mean you haven't found anything yet?!?" exclaimed Carter angrily. "It's been three days! The security in this system is supposed to be impeccable -- Beckett could be lying in a ditch somewhere or... or... stuffed up a laundry chute or something for all we know, and you haven't found a single clue yet?!?" There were few things that could provoke Carter to such extreme emotional outbursts, but the safety and lives of her wingmates was definitely high on the list.
"Please calm down, Commander," implored Police Commissioner Gordon. Being chief of police in the city wasn't exactly a relaxing profession, but rarely had he been faced with such a loud, fixated complainant as the wing commander of the infamous Banshee Squadron. He tilted back his head, closed his eyes for a moment, and took several deep breaths to calm himself. "Please, won't you return to your seat?" he said, indicating the vacant chair on the opposite side of his desk. Hoping to set an example, he sat back down himself.
To Gordon's relief, Carter followed his example, gruffly planting herself back in the chair she occupied until she'd lost her temper.
Feeling in control of the situation once again, he tried explaining the situation to Carter once again. "This city has over two hundred police officers, Commander. I have a significant percentage of those searching for your missing officer. I assure you, if she's anywhere even near the city, we'll find her."
"That's what you said three days ago," countered Carter.
Gordon took another deep, calming breath. "It's all I can do, Commander." He sympathized with Carter -- losing a crewmate like this...
Carter refused to be placated though. She angrily rose from her seat again. Gripping the edge of Gordon's desk, she leaned forward and said stonily, "It's not enough."
Gordon had no answer he could give Carter.
Realizing that something was up -- that she would get no further with the police commissioner, Carter gave Gordon a look that promised retribution if anything bad happened because of his inaction, turned on her heal and left the office. The door swooshed shut behind her, leaving her standing on the edge of the hustle and bustle of a main thoroughfare. An auto-taxi kiosk was nearby, so she stepped to the curb and flagged down the next yellow-and-black-checkered car to whir by. "Spaceport," she told the robo-driver.
The machine responded with a muted beep, and the cab whizzed off.
The urban jumble passed quickly by outside the cab's passenger windows, but Carter was unheeding, preoccupied by her own thoughts. She couldn't understand what the problem was. There was a missing person in the city. The city was covered in a sensor net. Therefore, they should be able to find the missing person, dead or alive. Unless of course, Sam was no longer in the city, in which case there were ship departure logs and transporter records that could be checked.
She was being deliberately stonewalled -- she was sure. But why? She had gotten the distinct impression that Commissioner Gordon was withholding information. Why would the police purposely keep information from her about the disappearance of Sam? It was true that Sam had worked for Starfleet Intel; she'd spent a few years undercover on the wrong side of the Romulan Neutral Zone. But that was years ago. It couldn't have anything to do with that, could it? She didn't think so. Sam, and the rest of Banshee Squadron, had been in sensitive environments since then, during both Mulluran Wars. Starfleet Intel had never bothered them. She had no explanation other than that things were being deliberately kept from her.
So what to do now?
She had absolutely no idea. She had been so sure that the police would solve the problem right away that she hadn't thought this far ahead. Her own team had failed to turn up anything. Commissioner Gordon had failed to come through. Who else was there?
The auto-taxi deposited her not far from the Banshees' apartments. The accommodations were luxurious, and within seconds of their fighters' hangars. She walked through the main doors and was immediately accosted by a million questions.
"Have they found Sam?"
"What did Commissioner Gordon say?"
"Will Sam be okay?"
Carter held up her hands to stave off the onslaught. "Whoa, whoa!" She had no good news -- just the same news she'd been feeding her people for the last three days. "The police are doing their best," she said, not believing it herself. "They're closing in on Sam's whereabouts."
"You don't really expect us to believe that, do you?" asked Max. Her tone of voice and the expression on her face made it clear she didn't believe it for a second.
Carter shared the sentiment, still, it wouldn't do to admit defeat to the rest of the crew. "Don't worry; we'll find her."
Jo and Alex came over from where they'd been sitting. "It's been three days," said Jo, darkly. "What are the odds?" The odds she was still alive.
Carter had no answer.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "The police say they're working on it. I don't know what else to do."
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