[Author's Note: This story does deal with elements of sickness and death, including autopsies and mention of infant mortality, so if these topics are upsetting or a trigger for you then might be best to avoid]
* * * * *
Captain’s log, stardate: Stardate: 38291.2.
Our mission inside the Theta Maelstrom is progressing smoothly and already turning up some interesting results, with the second system surveyed showing a wealth of raw materials, minerals, and metals. As we approached the third system, we picked up the signs of a space-faring civilisation and made first contact with the Ohmaron. They have since invited us to tour the orbital facilities the population reside on, as well as expressing an interest in trade and offered us a safe harbour should we require it.
I’ve decided to let Commander Celan lead this diplomatic venture, primarily because I know she’d object vehemently if I tried to do so—just like I used to do with Captain D’Arg on the Beaufort.
* * * * *
Grand Plaza, Orbital Habitat One
Seeing the cluster of orbital habitats and stations from the bridge of the U.S.S. Atlas was already an impressive sight, with the silvery-white facilities numbering in the thousands dotted all around the planet of vibrant purple seas and billions of green isles, with countless shuttles zipping along from one to another as the people went about their daily lives. But being inside them was just as incredible, with almost every surface that looked out into space being like a one-way mirror and offering breath-taking views of the world below and the other stations. The interiors were sleek and streamlined, though with works of art, display screens, and plants everywhere it felt warm and welcoming. If there was one thing that had become clear about the Ohmaron, it was that they liked to pull out all the stops for visitors.
Celan stood by one of the transparent bulkheads, looking out at the next nearest cluster of orbital bases, noting what looked like a dry-dock cradle. She turned back to their guide, a member of the First Minister’s staff called Nol-Vhos. The Ohmaron were a little shorter than the average humanoid, only around one-point-five meters, their skin seemed to be in shades of brown or tan, whilst their most distinctive feature was a long trunk on their faces, that came down to their chests, which was where their mouths were located with their nostrils being two small slits just above where the trunk. Despite their odd appearance, they had quickly proven to be nothing but kind and courteous, even letting them know about a few of the other species they traded with and one they’d been having problems with—all of that she made a mental note to follow up on.
“So, all your people live on these habitats?”
Nol-Vhos’ trunk wiggled enthusiastically. “Yes, all one-point-three billion of us. We have made sure to have everything we need spread across the platforms, from food production to ship maintenance, each habitat is its own self-sufficient city.”
Counsellor Htennak looked from their guide to the planet below them. “May I ask, why no one lives on the planet?”
“Our ancestors caused immense ecological damage to our planet as we developed, so when we had the technology we needed to live off-world it was decreed that all Ohmaron would leave the surface and live in orbit. We then started to research what we would need to do to restore our environment, which our scientists believed would need a couple of centuries to recover. Our laws prohibit anyone from going to the surface except those involved with the restoration works, even then nothing can be removed from the planet—we have already inflicted enough damage on our world.”
“How long have you lived up here?” she asked.
“This will be our eightieth year, so most of those alive today are at least second generation, with only around three hundred who will have seen the surface.”
“I’d love to see what sort of projects you’re undertaking for the restoration works,” commented Lieutenant Xan Na-Gharii.
Another trunk wiggle. “I’m sure that could be arranged, Lieutenant.”
“This is a truly remarkable place, Nol-Vhos,” she said, looking around at the open plaza, where people perused the shops and kiosks, chatted on the benches, admired the lush planters, children ran around after one another, everything just seemed to be so peaceful.
“What about your planets native fauna?” Doctor Helena Yuen asked. “Were any of them brought up here as well to preserve any that might be endangered?”
“Indeed they were, unfortunately by that time a number of species had already gone extinct. Some of our more…radically minded scientists, have suggested attempting to clone and reintroduce them though the First Minister is yet to make a decision on the topic.”
Yuen nodded. “That is a dilemma lots of other worlds have faced, with a few opting to go ahead with it and having great success whilst others did not.”
That seemed to get Nol-Vhos very curious. “Would you be willing to share those findings with me? I’d be most curious to see the statistical data on those projects.”
The CMO looked at Celan who paused for a moment to think. Though the information wasn’t classified to any degree, it might contain information of cloning processes that the Ohmaron didn’t possess which could cause issues. It would be possible to vet the data to remove elements that were out with their technological capabilities at present.
“We’ll see what can be arranged,” she told him, trying to remain as non-committal as she could.
“Splendid,” he exclaimed, before gesturing towards the habitats tram system once more. “Come, come, we have much more to see.”
Celan didn’t really want to leave the view behind, but they were on a fact-finding mission so had to learn as much as they could. They had made it more than halfway towards the tram, engaging in polite small talk, when the pleasant atmosphere of the plaza was shattered by an agonising scream. Immediately the group stopped and looked around for the source.
Twenty meters away, at one of the benches encircling a fountain, a Ohmaron was slumped on the ground, hunched over and trembling violently. Before Celan could even think, Yuen darted towards the individual and she was quickly in pursuit. Everyone even remotely close ran away, parents grabbed children and darted for the exits—with no way of knowing what was going on the instinct to preserve themselves and their offspring kicked in. From what they’d seen so far the Ohmaron came across as pacifists, peaceful almost to a fault, hardly the sort to become violent with one another—though every society always had its outliers.
By the time Celan and the rest of the group reached Yuen and the injured person (though she noted even Nol-Vhos was keeping his distance), the doctor had them rolled onto their side and running her medical tricorders detachable sensor wand over their convulsion form.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Yuen admitted. “Their cells are going through some sort of mutation, growing at an accelerated rate the likes of which I’ve never seen before.”
She shot a look back at their guide. “You have to call for medical assistance!”
Nol-Vhos’ face paled as he looked at the ill person on the ground. “They’ve succumbed to the Curse, there is nothing that can be done for them.”
“What?” Yuen barked, glowering at the public servant. She reigned herself in and glanced at Celan. “Commander, if I got him back to the Atlas I might be able to stabilise him.”
Without checking with their guide, Celan slapped her combadge. “Away team to Atlas. Medical emergency, lock onto Doctor Yuen’s signal and beam two directly to sickbay.”
“Understood,” Captain Keller responded immediately. There was a pause quickly followed by the whine of the transporter. “What’s happening over there, Commander? Do you need assistance?”
“I’m not quite sure, Captain, I’ve got a few questions to be answered first. I’ll keep you apprised. Celan out.”
She stood up and turned towards Nol-Vhos, who looked as though he were about to pass out. “Now then, why don’t we start off with just what is this ‘curse’?”
* * * * *
Sickbay, U.S.S. Atlas
As soon as Yuen and her patient materialised on the deck of sickbay, corpsman Volaar got him lifted onto the main biobed and paged nurse Zyl, as she quickly had the tables more comprehensive array of sensors begin scanning and looked at the incoming results—none of which made much sense. His entire cell structure seemed to be warping, with some growing with their cell walls changing preventing them from oxygen and nutrients, whilst others were losing mass and beginning to atrophy at an alarming rate, it was if in the space of a few minutes the nameless man was aging by decades.
Zyl entered to the blare of alarms and quickly hurried over to assist. “Doctor?”
“Your guess is as good as mine right now,” she said, as the computer compiled information on his anatomy. She knew nothing about this species, didn’t know what treatments would help and what might hinder, but the near catatonic patient needed her to do something.
“We have to stabilise the cell mutation and boost his immune response. Get me a T-cell stimulator.”
Before the Bolian nurse could even confirm the order, another alert sounded on the medical monitor. Volaar checked the readouts. “Blood pressure is dropping rapidly; heart rate is becoming irregular.” A second later the readout flatlined. “His heart has stopped.”
“Cardio-stimulator,” she instructed the Vulcan. “Twenty milligrams lectrazine.”
The corpsman grabbed the instrument, checked the location of the patients heart and placed the device, just as Zyl handed her the loaded hypospray. She pressed it to his neck and heard the familiar hiss. The monitor continued with its mournful monotone.
“Clear.”
She stepped away as Volaar activated. The body jerked then went still, the monitor showing a few irregular spikes in the heartrate before it disappeared again.
“Again.” The same response. A third time saw an even smaller response, the fourth and fifth smaller still. “Again.” This time nothing changed.
The three of them looked at the body for a moment longer, before glancing at one another. Zyl cocked her head to get a better look at his face. “What happened to him?”
Yuen shook her head. “I have no idea.”
* * * * *
* * * * *
Captain’s log, stardate: Stardate: 38291.2.
Our mission inside the Theta Maelstrom is progressing smoothly and already turning up some interesting results, with the second system surveyed showing a wealth of raw materials, minerals, and metals. As we approached the third system, we picked up the signs of a space-faring civilisation and made first contact with the Ohmaron. They have since invited us to tour the orbital facilities the population reside on, as well as expressing an interest in trade and offered us a safe harbour should we require it.
I’ve decided to let Commander Celan lead this diplomatic venture, primarily because I know she’d object vehemently if I tried to do so—just like I used to do with Captain D’Arg on the Beaufort.
* * * * *
Grand Plaza, Orbital Habitat One
Seeing the cluster of orbital habitats and stations from the bridge of the U.S.S. Atlas was already an impressive sight, with the silvery-white facilities numbering in the thousands dotted all around the planet of vibrant purple seas and billions of green isles, with countless shuttles zipping along from one to another as the people went about their daily lives. But being inside them was just as incredible, with almost every surface that looked out into space being like a one-way mirror and offering breath-taking views of the world below and the other stations. The interiors were sleek and streamlined, though with works of art, display screens, and plants everywhere it felt warm and welcoming. If there was one thing that had become clear about the Ohmaron, it was that they liked to pull out all the stops for visitors.
Celan stood by one of the transparent bulkheads, looking out at the next nearest cluster of orbital bases, noting what looked like a dry-dock cradle. She turned back to their guide, a member of the First Minister’s staff called Nol-Vhos. The Ohmaron were a little shorter than the average humanoid, only around one-point-five meters, their skin seemed to be in shades of brown or tan, whilst their most distinctive feature was a long trunk on their faces, that came down to their chests, which was where their mouths were located with their nostrils being two small slits just above where the trunk. Despite their odd appearance, they had quickly proven to be nothing but kind and courteous, even letting them know about a few of the other species they traded with and one they’d been having problems with—all of that she made a mental note to follow up on.
“So, all your people live on these habitats?”
Nol-Vhos’ trunk wiggled enthusiastically. “Yes, all one-point-three billion of us. We have made sure to have everything we need spread across the platforms, from food production to ship maintenance, each habitat is its own self-sufficient city.”
Counsellor Htennak looked from their guide to the planet below them. “May I ask, why no one lives on the planet?”
“Our ancestors caused immense ecological damage to our planet as we developed, so when we had the technology we needed to live off-world it was decreed that all Ohmaron would leave the surface and live in orbit. We then started to research what we would need to do to restore our environment, which our scientists believed would need a couple of centuries to recover. Our laws prohibit anyone from going to the surface except those involved with the restoration works, even then nothing can be removed from the planet—we have already inflicted enough damage on our world.”
“How long have you lived up here?” she asked.
“This will be our eightieth year, so most of those alive today are at least second generation, with only around three hundred who will have seen the surface.”
“I’d love to see what sort of projects you’re undertaking for the restoration works,” commented Lieutenant Xan Na-Gharii.
Another trunk wiggle. “I’m sure that could be arranged, Lieutenant.”
“This is a truly remarkable place, Nol-Vhos,” she said, looking around at the open plaza, where people perused the shops and kiosks, chatted on the benches, admired the lush planters, children ran around after one another, everything just seemed to be so peaceful.
“What about your planets native fauna?” Doctor Helena Yuen asked. “Were any of them brought up here as well to preserve any that might be endangered?”
“Indeed they were, unfortunately by that time a number of species had already gone extinct. Some of our more…radically minded scientists, have suggested attempting to clone and reintroduce them though the First Minister is yet to make a decision on the topic.”
Yuen nodded. “That is a dilemma lots of other worlds have faced, with a few opting to go ahead with it and having great success whilst others did not.”
That seemed to get Nol-Vhos very curious. “Would you be willing to share those findings with me? I’d be most curious to see the statistical data on those projects.”
The CMO looked at Celan who paused for a moment to think. Though the information wasn’t classified to any degree, it might contain information of cloning processes that the Ohmaron didn’t possess which could cause issues. It would be possible to vet the data to remove elements that were out with their technological capabilities at present.
“We’ll see what can be arranged,” she told him, trying to remain as non-committal as she could.
“Splendid,” he exclaimed, before gesturing towards the habitats tram system once more. “Come, come, we have much more to see.”
Celan didn’t really want to leave the view behind, but they were on a fact-finding mission so had to learn as much as they could. They had made it more than halfway towards the tram, engaging in polite small talk, when the pleasant atmosphere of the plaza was shattered by an agonising scream. Immediately the group stopped and looked around for the source.
Twenty meters away, at one of the benches encircling a fountain, a Ohmaron was slumped on the ground, hunched over and trembling violently. Before Celan could even think, Yuen darted towards the individual and she was quickly in pursuit. Everyone even remotely close ran away, parents grabbed children and darted for the exits—with no way of knowing what was going on the instinct to preserve themselves and their offspring kicked in. From what they’d seen so far the Ohmaron came across as pacifists, peaceful almost to a fault, hardly the sort to become violent with one another—though every society always had its outliers.
By the time Celan and the rest of the group reached Yuen and the injured person (though she noted even Nol-Vhos was keeping his distance), the doctor had them rolled onto their side and running her medical tricorders detachable sensor wand over their convulsion form.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Yuen admitted. “Their cells are going through some sort of mutation, growing at an accelerated rate the likes of which I’ve never seen before.”
She shot a look back at their guide. “You have to call for medical assistance!”
Nol-Vhos’ face paled as he looked at the ill person on the ground. “They’ve succumbed to the Curse, there is nothing that can be done for them.”
“What?” Yuen barked, glowering at the public servant. She reigned herself in and glanced at Celan. “Commander, if I got him back to the Atlas I might be able to stabilise him.”
Without checking with their guide, Celan slapped her combadge. “Away team to Atlas. Medical emergency, lock onto Doctor Yuen’s signal and beam two directly to sickbay.”
“Understood,” Captain Keller responded immediately. There was a pause quickly followed by the whine of the transporter. “What’s happening over there, Commander? Do you need assistance?”
“I’m not quite sure, Captain, I’ve got a few questions to be answered first. I’ll keep you apprised. Celan out.”
She stood up and turned towards Nol-Vhos, who looked as though he were about to pass out. “Now then, why don’t we start off with just what is this ‘curse’?”
* * * * *
Sickbay, U.S.S. Atlas
As soon as Yuen and her patient materialised on the deck of sickbay, corpsman Volaar got him lifted onto the main biobed and paged nurse Zyl, as she quickly had the tables more comprehensive array of sensors begin scanning and looked at the incoming results—none of which made much sense. His entire cell structure seemed to be warping, with some growing with their cell walls changing preventing them from oxygen and nutrients, whilst others were losing mass and beginning to atrophy at an alarming rate, it was if in the space of a few minutes the nameless man was aging by decades.
Zyl entered to the blare of alarms and quickly hurried over to assist. “Doctor?”
“Your guess is as good as mine right now,” she said, as the computer compiled information on his anatomy. She knew nothing about this species, didn’t know what treatments would help and what might hinder, but the near catatonic patient needed her to do something.
“We have to stabilise the cell mutation and boost his immune response. Get me a T-cell stimulator.”
Before the Bolian nurse could even confirm the order, another alert sounded on the medical monitor. Volaar checked the readouts. “Blood pressure is dropping rapidly; heart rate is becoming irregular.” A second later the readout flatlined. “His heart has stopped.”
“Cardio-stimulator,” she instructed the Vulcan. “Twenty milligrams lectrazine.”
The corpsman grabbed the instrument, checked the location of the patients heart and placed the device, just as Zyl handed her the loaded hypospray. She pressed it to his neck and heard the familiar hiss. The monitor continued with its mournful monotone.
“Clear.”
She stepped away as Volaar activated. The body jerked then went still, the monitor showing a few irregular spikes in the heartrate before it disappeared again.
“Again.” The same response. A third time saw an even smaller response, the fourth and fifth smaller still. “Again.” This time nothing changed.
The three of them looked at the body for a moment longer, before glancing at one another. Zyl cocked her head to get a better look at his face. “What happened to him?”
Yuen shook her head. “I have no idea.”
* * * * *
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