For the first time in almost nine months, the U.S.S. Orion wasn’t going anywhere, thanks to a ‘hiccup’ with her warp drive. Given the age of the ship and the fact she’d only had two weeks of repair time before being launched, it did surprise Clarissa DuMont that there weren’t more problems with the warp engines. It was a testament to the hard work and ingenuity of Lieutenant j.g. Lanali and her staff, somehow they kept the ship going against all the odds; with one or two exceptions—though those had become few and far between over the last fifteen months.
Fortunately, they had been returning from a mission in a region that hadn’t seen any fighting for four months, and had been all but ignored by the Dominion since then, so they weren’t in any immediate danger and the delay wouldn’t cause any holdups for anyone other than the crew. The problem had been traced to a faulty diagnostic sensor, which had detected a dangerous surge in the power transfer conduits and shut down the drive as a safety precaution. They were now left with having to replace the circuit and run a full check of the system, just to make sure there weren’t any problems—better to be safe than sorry.
When they had first dropped out of warp, it had been all hands on deck, but after the problem was identified, the engineers remained at their posts and the rest of the crew not on shift went back to either their beds or whatever recreational activity they had been up to—which included beds for a few. DuMont had been on watch when it had occurred and once again resumed command of the ship, though there was really little she could do. She had given up the command chair when Captain Reihyn had come onto the bridge, favouring her customary place at mission ops, and had remained there after he’d gone back to his quarters. Though it was expected of her to sit in the ‘big chair’, she found herself far more comfortable off to the side—at least from her station she could keep on top of the repair and diagnostic work.
“Commander,” Ensign Moq spoke up from tactical, glancing over at her, a puzzled look on his porcine face.
“Yes Ensign?”
“Sensors have just picked up a ship, just point-seven light-hours away, bearing two-one-one-mark-zero-zero-four.”
She looked from the dour young Tellarite to the garish Rigellian-Sirad at ops. “Lieutenant Yorthau?”
“Got them, sir!” he replied excitedly, which was just his usual tone. “Sensor silhouette is Starfleet! Looks like a Yeager-Class!”
She frowned slightly. Whilst the Orion was what had been dubbed the ‘zombie fleet’ (old ships resurrected for duty once again), Yeager’s were an example of the ‘Frankenstein fleet’—hulls cobbled together using parts from multiple different ships. They weren’t pretty or matched up to the specs of the classes they’d been made from, but they were relatively quick to construct allowing them to fill voids in the ranks. Though a few had been used in some engagements, they were typically held back in defensive positions, so finding one of them in this sector was unusual.
DuMont accessed the command intelligence application on her station and checked for a transponder code. Once she had it, she ran it through the database and was given a result within a couple of seconds.
“The computer says it’s the U.S.S. DeVier, which went MIA two weeks ago near the Argaya System.”
“We’re eight light-years from Argaya, what would she be doing here?” asked Petty Officer Wang from the conn.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Bridge to Lanali.”
“Go ahead, Commander.”
“How long until we have warp drive restored, Lieutenant?”
“Another couple of hours, I’d say. Is something wrong?”
“We’ve picked up a Starfleet ship that was reported missing.”
“Well get finished as quickly as we can, Commander, but I don’t want to push it.”
“Understood. DuMont out.”
She paused. Part of her felt the need to call the Captain to the bridge, but it wasn’t unusual to find derelict ships along the Cardassian border, even ones said to be missing—more often than not they would turn up, either as debris or heavily damaged. She glanced at her hand and saw it hovering above the intercom. Slowly, she moved it away and stood up. Stepping into the centre of the bridge, she took a breath and looked down as the conn.
“Wang, set a course and take us to full impulse. Mr Moq, begin continuous scans for other ships. Lieutenant, I want a full report on that ship.”
“Aye sir,” the bridge crew replied, almost in unison.
Without warp it would take almost three hours to reach the vessel, which gave them more than enough time to gather data on the ship and assess the situation before the engines were back online. Once they knew more, then she would know whether or not it needed the immediate attention of the Captain or not. Or at least, that was what she hoped.
* * * * *
Captain’s log, stardate: 52482.3.
Whilst our warp drive was out for essential repair, sensors detected the starship DeVier. However, instead of a wreck the ship looks to be intact for the most part, though power emissions are almost non-existent. If we hadn’t been at sublight it’s doubtful we would ever have detected them. They haven’t responded to any of our hails.
Lieutenant Lanali has managed to restore main engines, though has advised against such a short warp jump, so we remain at impulse and will be alongside within the hour.
There is a general feeling of trepidation among the crew, one I share. Something about this just feels…off.
End log.
* * * * *
“Sensors are showing eighty-eight life-signs,” reported Lieutenant Jachim from his customary place at ops. “However, there is only minimal damage to the ship. They have got life-support.”
“Records show there were one hundred twenty-five onboard,” added DuMont .
Reihyn frowned. If the ship had little damage, both external and internal, how had over quarter of the crew lost their lives? “Escape pods?”
“All escape pods and shuttles accounted for, sir.”
“Maybe the missing crew were abducted? Or beamed down somewhere?” suggested D’Kehra.
Both were possibilities, though each presented even more questions, the main one being: why only abduct/evacuate a fraction of the crew? Also, what was preventing the rest from making contact with them? Everything about the situation seemed wrong.
“No other ships on sensors?”
“All’s clear, sir,” responded Ensign Mecell.
“Perhaps there’s some kind of sickness,” suggested Doctor Baxx, leaning on one of the railings, studying the ship on the viewscreen.
Reihyn raised a tattooed brow. Of all the possibilities, that was the way he was leaning. Was this something new the Dominion were employing? Had they resorted to biological weapons? In all the intelligence briefings he was privy too, he’d never once read of them using such a tactic, though that wasn’t to say it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
“If there is a biological or viral agent over there, sensors aren’t detecting it.”
“All the more reason we beam over and help them,” Baxx stated. Whenever there was ever humanitarian aid needed or suffering to be eased, the old Bolians position was always the same, no matter what the stakes were.
It took only a moment’s thought for him to reach the same conclusion. No matter what the circumstances, those people were Starfleet and they were in need. “You’re right, as always, Doctor. Commander, get two relief teams together, full biohazard protocol. Assess the situation and render assistance wherever needed.”
There was a moment of hesitation before DuMont replied, “Aye sir.”
* * * * *
The relief teams were beamed into one of the emergency transporters onboard the DeVier, being good sized spaces and centralised, the teams could spread out from there and assess what was going on. Sioll Baxx was once again in a full EVA suit, his eighth time since his commission was reactivated—more times than the rest of his decades-long career. Though in this situation there was breathable air and standard gravity, the suits were the only way to ensure that they didn’t contract whatever pathogen might be at work onboard.
As the four security personnel swept the room with their phasers, everyone else did the far more useful thing of opening their tricorders. Scanning range allowed him to take in the entire ship; no adverse radiation or energy anomalies impeded them. The eight-eight crew were scattered throughout the ship, with larger concentrations in sickbay and the mess hall—which only gave more evidence to what had befallen the ship being a medical emergency.
“Alright,” DuMont began over the comlink, her voice shaking slightly, “we’ll split into three teams, cover more ground. Doctor Baxx, Ramirez, Vaand and Ytog; head for sickbay. Lanali, Carr, Doren and Anders, get down to engineering, see if you can restore main power. D’Kehra, McGuire and Patel, with me; we’ll head for the bridge. Keep the comlink open.”
Though he would’ve preferred to keep his medical team together as they headed for sickbay to help out, he understood the need to spread the teams experienced and skills. Ramirez was a jack-of-all-trades, so could easily help out with whatever technical problems them may have faced, as well as a dozen other tasks, whilst Crewman Ytog was for their safety (and carry anything heavy).
The teams grouped together and filed out the transporter room, scanning as they went. In the corridor they split up, Lanali heading aft whilst the other two groups headed forward. They would diverge in time, each heading their own way. They had barely gone fifteen meters before the approached the first member of the crew, a Delbian woman, lying on her side in the hallway, back up against the bulkhead.
Baxx moved to the front, the rest of the team parting to let him through, McGuire and Vaand close behind. At the body he crouched down and removed the sensor wand from his tricorder and swept it over her still form. Given the position of the woman in blue, he expected to see zero life-signs, but his scanner was picking up brain activity, heartbeat and respiration, all very weak however.
“What the frell?” he asked no one, trying to make sense of the readings.
“Doctor?”
“She’s alive, just barely though. She’d suffering from severe malnourishment and dehydration. Her body is wasting away, but I can’t see any reason why.” He turned his torso so he could look up at the First Officer. “We need to get her to sickbay.”
DuMont nodded. He motioned for Vaand to take her, the strapping Rhaandarite more than able to carry the frail woman.
“Sir, I’m getting another life-sign from inside,” stated Chief Ramirez, scanning a doorway they stood next too.
“Check it.”
Ramirez tapped the control panel then stepped inside with Ytog. Baxx headed after them and paused in the doorway when he saw a Vulcan man lying on the bed, not moving. He was just skin and bone, like the Delbian in the corridor. The Chief ran a scan and looked back at him.
“Minimal brain activity, pulse and breathing are barely registering. Severe malnourishment and dehydration.”
“What could’ve happened here?” asked the Tellarite guard.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Should we take him as well?” Ramirez asked.
Baxx thought for a moment and shook his head. “This could be the effects of the contagion, if it is the entire crew could be suffering, we don’t have the manpower to get them all to sickbay. At least he’s in his quarters.”
He stepped back into the corridor as D’Kehra and Patel emerged from another cabin opposite. “We found a body, just like her but he’s been dead for days.”
“There is definitely some kind of biohazard present onboard, but it’s like nothing I’ve seen before.”
“We’d better keep moving,” said DuMont, sounding shaken.
The team and the sick Delbian carried on. Their progress was a silent one, except for DuMont informing the Orion of what they’d found and Lanali saying her team had found two dead and one unconscious. He’d checked with Corpsman Carr and found that the survivor and one of the dead, both human, were the same as the ones they’d found. The second dead crewmember, a Tiburonian, however wasn't. She had been at a healthy weight when she had died, two weeks ago. He’d asked Carr to run a full scan and send the data through to him—when they got to sickbay he’d run a comparison between those results and what he got from the others, though as they headed there he was already engrossed in the readings.
“Hold up,” DuMont told them as the rounded a corner.
He looked up from his scanner and found the reason why they’d stopped. The corridor was filled with furniture from quarters or laboratories and cargo containers, packed in so tightly that he couldn’t even see beyond it. Some of it even looked as though it’d been melted together with weapons fire.
“What in the world?” Patel asked.
“A phaser should be able to burn through that, though it may take a few minutes,” stated D’Kehra, raising her weapon.
“There could be something volatile in those barrels, Lieutenant,” highlighted Ramirez, “or something worse buried behind what we can see.”
“Agreed, we’ll find another way around.”
Baxx had been near the rear, one of the closest to the junction they had come down to reach the barrier, as he turned back towards the perpendicular corridor a shifting shadow caught his eye.
“What was that?” asked Ytog, who was rear guard for the team.
“You saw it too?” he asked the Tellarite, who nodded through the faceplate.
He glanced at his tricorder, noting the distinctive change in readings. “Commander, I’ve got an active life-sign, heading away from us,” he called into the open channel as he headed after it, Ytog by his side.
“Doctor? Baxx, get back here!”
They rounded the corner and charged after the only person they’d found so far who could’ve answered their questions. Why they were running away made no sense, but once they caught up then he would be sure to ask. Part of him knew that it was madness to chase after them and could well be dangerous, he silenced the questioning voice. This pathogen could well have a psychological element to it that could distort the sufferer’s perceptions, making a friend appear as a foe, so they could be running scared. He was there to render aid, which was exactly what he would do, even if he had to stun them to do it.
The life-sign, an Andorian, had stopped in a room up on their left—an environmental processor station if he wasn’t mistaken. He darted in as soon as the doors opened, before his escort could protest, but as soon as he’d taken a step inside he say a flash of silver and felt an impact snap his head back and hit the inside of the EVA helmet, making him stumble back, the room spinning.
He smacked into the bulkhead opposite the door. His vision was blurred for a moment, but cleared in time to see an Andorian emerge from the room and lunge at Ytog as the guard had his back turned, focused on Baxx, who slumped against metal wall. He heard the Tellarite cry out over the comlink, just as a phaser beam cut through the air towards their attacker.
The Andorian, a shen in sciences blue with the rank of chief petty officer on her collar, managed to avoid the beam, as she fell to the deck on top of the crewman. In the blink of an eye she was all her feet, snarling, brandishing a piece of railing in one hand and a vicious-looking dagger in the other, deep red blood dripping from the serrated blade.
Before a second shot could connect with her, she scarpered into the room she’d ambushed him in, with D’Kehra and Patel hot on her heels. As they pursued, McGuire and Vaand hurried over to their two fallen shipmates. Baxx tried to tell the Rhaandarite he was alright, until he saw the look of shock and dismay on Vaand’s usually serene face. It was then he realised that although his vision had cleared, it still wasn’t right, and focused on his helmet and saw a spidery crack.
“Warning, suit compromised,” the inbuilt computer warned.
Whatever infection was loose on the DeVier he’d been exposed to it.
* * * * *
Fortunately, they had been returning from a mission in a region that hadn’t seen any fighting for four months, and had been all but ignored by the Dominion since then, so they weren’t in any immediate danger and the delay wouldn’t cause any holdups for anyone other than the crew. The problem had been traced to a faulty diagnostic sensor, which had detected a dangerous surge in the power transfer conduits and shut down the drive as a safety precaution. They were now left with having to replace the circuit and run a full check of the system, just to make sure there weren’t any problems—better to be safe than sorry.
When they had first dropped out of warp, it had been all hands on deck, but after the problem was identified, the engineers remained at their posts and the rest of the crew not on shift went back to either their beds or whatever recreational activity they had been up to—which included beds for a few. DuMont had been on watch when it had occurred and once again resumed command of the ship, though there was really little she could do. She had given up the command chair when Captain Reihyn had come onto the bridge, favouring her customary place at mission ops, and had remained there after he’d gone back to his quarters. Though it was expected of her to sit in the ‘big chair’, she found herself far more comfortable off to the side—at least from her station she could keep on top of the repair and diagnostic work.
“Commander,” Ensign Moq spoke up from tactical, glancing over at her, a puzzled look on his porcine face.
“Yes Ensign?”
“Sensors have just picked up a ship, just point-seven light-hours away, bearing two-one-one-mark-zero-zero-four.”
She looked from the dour young Tellarite to the garish Rigellian-Sirad at ops. “Lieutenant Yorthau?”
“Got them, sir!” he replied excitedly, which was just his usual tone. “Sensor silhouette is Starfleet! Looks like a Yeager-Class!”
She frowned slightly. Whilst the Orion was what had been dubbed the ‘zombie fleet’ (old ships resurrected for duty once again), Yeager’s were an example of the ‘Frankenstein fleet’—hulls cobbled together using parts from multiple different ships. They weren’t pretty or matched up to the specs of the classes they’d been made from, but they were relatively quick to construct allowing them to fill voids in the ranks. Though a few had been used in some engagements, they were typically held back in defensive positions, so finding one of them in this sector was unusual.
DuMont accessed the command intelligence application on her station and checked for a transponder code. Once she had it, she ran it through the database and was given a result within a couple of seconds.
“The computer says it’s the U.S.S. DeVier, which went MIA two weeks ago near the Argaya System.”
“We’re eight light-years from Argaya, what would she be doing here?” asked Petty Officer Wang from the conn.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Bridge to Lanali.”
“Go ahead, Commander.”
“How long until we have warp drive restored, Lieutenant?”
“Another couple of hours, I’d say. Is something wrong?”
“We’ve picked up a Starfleet ship that was reported missing.”
“Well get finished as quickly as we can, Commander, but I don’t want to push it.”
“Understood. DuMont out.”
She paused. Part of her felt the need to call the Captain to the bridge, but it wasn’t unusual to find derelict ships along the Cardassian border, even ones said to be missing—more often than not they would turn up, either as debris or heavily damaged. She glanced at her hand and saw it hovering above the intercom. Slowly, she moved it away and stood up. Stepping into the centre of the bridge, she took a breath and looked down as the conn.
“Wang, set a course and take us to full impulse. Mr Moq, begin continuous scans for other ships. Lieutenant, I want a full report on that ship.”
“Aye sir,” the bridge crew replied, almost in unison.
Without warp it would take almost three hours to reach the vessel, which gave them more than enough time to gather data on the ship and assess the situation before the engines were back online. Once they knew more, then she would know whether or not it needed the immediate attention of the Captain or not. Or at least, that was what she hoped.
* * * * *
Captain’s log, stardate: 52482.3.
Whilst our warp drive was out for essential repair, sensors detected the starship DeVier. However, instead of a wreck the ship looks to be intact for the most part, though power emissions are almost non-existent. If we hadn’t been at sublight it’s doubtful we would ever have detected them. They haven’t responded to any of our hails.
Lieutenant Lanali has managed to restore main engines, though has advised against such a short warp jump, so we remain at impulse and will be alongside within the hour.
There is a general feeling of trepidation among the crew, one I share. Something about this just feels…off.
End log.
* * * * *
“Sensors are showing eighty-eight life-signs,” reported Lieutenant Jachim from his customary place at ops. “However, there is only minimal damage to the ship. They have got life-support.”
“Records show there were one hundred twenty-five onboard,” added DuMont .
Reihyn frowned. If the ship had little damage, both external and internal, how had over quarter of the crew lost their lives? “Escape pods?”
“All escape pods and shuttles accounted for, sir.”
“Maybe the missing crew were abducted? Or beamed down somewhere?” suggested D’Kehra.
Both were possibilities, though each presented even more questions, the main one being: why only abduct/evacuate a fraction of the crew? Also, what was preventing the rest from making contact with them? Everything about the situation seemed wrong.
“No other ships on sensors?”
“All’s clear, sir,” responded Ensign Mecell.
“Perhaps there’s some kind of sickness,” suggested Doctor Baxx, leaning on one of the railings, studying the ship on the viewscreen.
Reihyn raised a tattooed brow. Of all the possibilities, that was the way he was leaning. Was this something new the Dominion were employing? Had they resorted to biological weapons? In all the intelligence briefings he was privy too, he’d never once read of them using such a tactic, though that wasn’t to say it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
“If there is a biological or viral agent over there, sensors aren’t detecting it.”
“All the more reason we beam over and help them,” Baxx stated. Whenever there was ever humanitarian aid needed or suffering to be eased, the old Bolians position was always the same, no matter what the stakes were.
It took only a moment’s thought for him to reach the same conclusion. No matter what the circumstances, those people were Starfleet and they were in need. “You’re right, as always, Doctor. Commander, get two relief teams together, full biohazard protocol. Assess the situation and render assistance wherever needed.”
There was a moment of hesitation before DuMont replied, “Aye sir.”
* * * * *
The relief teams were beamed into one of the emergency transporters onboard the DeVier, being good sized spaces and centralised, the teams could spread out from there and assess what was going on. Sioll Baxx was once again in a full EVA suit, his eighth time since his commission was reactivated—more times than the rest of his decades-long career. Though in this situation there was breathable air and standard gravity, the suits were the only way to ensure that they didn’t contract whatever pathogen might be at work onboard.
As the four security personnel swept the room with their phasers, everyone else did the far more useful thing of opening their tricorders. Scanning range allowed him to take in the entire ship; no adverse radiation or energy anomalies impeded them. The eight-eight crew were scattered throughout the ship, with larger concentrations in sickbay and the mess hall—which only gave more evidence to what had befallen the ship being a medical emergency.
“Alright,” DuMont began over the comlink, her voice shaking slightly, “we’ll split into three teams, cover more ground. Doctor Baxx, Ramirez, Vaand and Ytog; head for sickbay. Lanali, Carr, Doren and Anders, get down to engineering, see if you can restore main power. D’Kehra, McGuire and Patel, with me; we’ll head for the bridge. Keep the comlink open.”
Though he would’ve preferred to keep his medical team together as they headed for sickbay to help out, he understood the need to spread the teams experienced and skills. Ramirez was a jack-of-all-trades, so could easily help out with whatever technical problems them may have faced, as well as a dozen other tasks, whilst Crewman Ytog was for their safety (and carry anything heavy).
The teams grouped together and filed out the transporter room, scanning as they went. In the corridor they split up, Lanali heading aft whilst the other two groups headed forward. They would diverge in time, each heading their own way. They had barely gone fifteen meters before the approached the first member of the crew, a Delbian woman, lying on her side in the hallway, back up against the bulkhead.
Baxx moved to the front, the rest of the team parting to let him through, McGuire and Vaand close behind. At the body he crouched down and removed the sensor wand from his tricorder and swept it over her still form. Given the position of the woman in blue, he expected to see zero life-signs, but his scanner was picking up brain activity, heartbeat and respiration, all very weak however.
“What the frell?” he asked no one, trying to make sense of the readings.
“Doctor?”
“She’s alive, just barely though. She’d suffering from severe malnourishment and dehydration. Her body is wasting away, but I can’t see any reason why.” He turned his torso so he could look up at the First Officer. “We need to get her to sickbay.”
DuMont nodded. He motioned for Vaand to take her, the strapping Rhaandarite more than able to carry the frail woman.
“Sir, I’m getting another life-sign from inside,” stated Chief Ramirez, scanning a doorway they stood next too.
“Check it.”
Ramirez tapped the control panel then stepped inside with Ytog. Baxx headed after them and paused in the doorway when he saw a Vulcan man lying on the bed, not moving. He was just skin and bone, like the Delbian in the corridor. The Chief ran a scan and looked back at him.
“Minimal brain activity, pulse and breathing are barely registering. Severe malnourishment and dehydration.”
“What could’ve happened here?” asked the Tellarite guard.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Should we take him as well?” Ramirez asked.
Baxx thought for a moment and shook his head. “This could be the effects of the contagion, if it is the entire crew could be suffering, we don’t have the manpower to get them all to sickbay. At least he’s in his quarters.”
He stepped back into the corridor as D’Kehra and Patel emerged from another cabin opposite. “We found a body, just like her but he’s been dead for days.”
“There is definitely some kind of biohazard present onboard, but it’s like nothing I’ve seen before.”
“We’d better keep moving,” said DuMont, sounding shaken.
The team and the sick Delbian carried on. Their progress was a silent one, except for DuMont informing the Orion of what they’d found and Lanali saying her team had found two dead and one unconscious. He’d checked with Corpsman Carr and found that the survivor and one of the dead, both human, were the same as the ones they’d found. The second dead crewmember, a Tiburonian, however wasn't. She had been at a healthy weight when she had died, two weeks ago. He’d asked Carr to run a full scan and send the data through to him—when they got to sickbay he’d run a comparison between those results and what he got from the others, though as they headed there he was already engrossed in the readings.
“Hold up,” DuMont told them as the rounded a corner.
He looked up from his scanner and found the reason why they’d stopped. The corridor was filled with furniture from quarters or laboratories and cargo containers, packed in so tightly that he couldn’t even see beyond it. Some of it even looked as though it’d been melted together with weapons fire.
“What in the world?” Patel asked.
“A phaser should be able to burn through that, though it may take a few minutes,” stated D’Kehra, raising her weapon.
“There could be something volatile in those barrels, Lieutenant,” highlighted Ramirez, “or something worse buried behind what we can see.”
“Agreed, we’ll find another way around.”
Baxx had been near the rear, one of the closest to the junction they had come down to reach the barrier, as he turned back towards the perpendicular corridor a shifting shadow caught his eye.
“What was that?” asked Ytog, who was rear guard for the team.
“You saw it too?” he asked the Tellarite, who nodded through the faceplate.
He glanced at his tricorder, noting the distinctive change in readings. “Commander, I’ve got an active life-sign, heading away from us,” he called into the open channel as he headed after it, Ytog by his side.
“Doctor? Baxx, get back here!”
They rounded the corner and charged after the only person they’d found so far who could’ve answered their questions. Why they were running away made no sense, but once they caught up then he would be sure to ask. Part of him knew that it was madness to chase after them and could well be dangerous, he silenced the questioning voice. This pathogen could well have a psychological element to it that could distort the sufferer’s perceptions, making a friend appear as a foe, so they could be running scared. He was there to render aid, which was exactly what he would do, even if he had to stun them to do it.
The life-sign, an Andorian, had stopped in a room up on their left—an environmental processor station if he wasn’t mistaken. He darted in as soon as the doors opened, before his escort could protest, but as soon as he’d taken a step inside he say a flash of silver and felt an impact snap his head back and hit the inside of the EVA helmet, making him stumble back, the room spinning.
He smacked into the bulkhead opposite the door. His vision was blurred for a moment, but cleared in time to see an Andorian emerge from the room and lunge at Ytog as the guard had his back turned, focused on Baxx, who slumped against metal wall. He heard the Tellarite cry out over the comlink, just as a phaser beam cut through the air towards their attacker.
The Andorian, a shen in sciences blue with the rank of chief petty officer on her collar, managed to avoid the beam, as she fell to the deck on top of the crewman. In the blink of an eye she was all her feet, snarling, brandishing a piece of railing in one hand and a vicious-looking dagger in the other, deep red blood dripping from the serrated blade.
Before a second shot could connect with her, she scarpered into the room she’d ambushed him in, with D’Kehra and Patel hot on her heels. As they pursued, McGuire and Vaand hurried over to their two fallen shipmates. Baxx tried to tell the Rhaandarite he was alright, until he saw the look of shock and dismay on Vaand’s usually serene face. It was then he realised that although his vision had cleared, it still wasn’t right, and focused on his helmet and saw a spidery crack.
“Warning, suit compromised,” the inbuilt computer warned.
Whatever infection was loose on the DeVier he’d been exposed to it.
* * * * *
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