The Ring of Fire

Posted on Sun Jun 7th, 2026 @ 12:05am by Gamma Quadrant NPC & Enterprise Officer NPC & Commander Zhora zh'Roothi & Lieutenant Commander Aidan Datari & Lieutenant Rio Kholin MD & Lieutenant Amber Laurell

7,163 words; about a 36 minute read

Mission: 9. Oubliette
Location: Sickbay, U.S.S. Enterprise
Timeline: 2439-10-09, 13:00

OOC: Warning! This post includes intense scenes involving the death of a crewmember aboard the Enterprise.

The hum of Sickbay was a sharp, sterile contrast to the oppressive gloom of the rogue planet hanging just outside the hull. Within the primary isolation ward, Petty Officer Colmo Selou moved with a grace that resembled a slow-motion dance. His motor-assisted exoskeleton whirred softly with every step, the mechanical frame hissed as it compensated for the 1G environment that would otherwise crush his fragile Elaysian skeleton. Colmo was a man of meticulous patience; his low-gravity homeworld had taught him that haste was the enemy of stability.

"Atmospheric scrubbers are set to 0.05% methane-nitrogen tolerance," Colmo announced, his voice carrying the lyrical, airy lilt of his people. He checked the bio-bed settings for the third time, ensuring the thermal blankets were pre-charged. He looked over at the Chief Medical Officer, a small, wry smile touching his lips. "If the reports are accurate, Doctor Kholin, our guest is coming from a world that makes my home look like a high-pressure torture chamber. I've prepared the low-pressure metabolic cradle. We don't want his lungs to struggle the moment the air gets thin."

Rio initially smiled at the joke but finished it with a grimace at the description of the torture their gravity would be if not adjusted. "Well done Petty Officer, good observation, quick thinking and efficiently undertaken." The CMO was never ungenerous with praise where it was warranted.

Colmo’s eyes flickered to the center of the room. He liked a tidy Sickbay, and the impending arrival of a "muck-covered" away team was already making his professional sensibilities itch. He adjusted his exoskeleton’s tension, bracing for the physical labor of the transfer. "Counselor, I hope you’re ready for a lot of metaphorical heavy lifting," he added, nodding toward Amber. "The away team’s comms were... heavy with the weight of cold."

“I will certainly do my best to help them” Amber smiled, she was curious about their guest.

Suddenly, the air in the center of the ward shivered. The telltale whine of a site-to-site transport filled the room, and for a heartbeat, the space was dominated by a shimmering column of blue light. As the patterns solidified, the sharp, copper-scent of the rogue planet’s atmosphere momentarily flooded the room, triggering the overhead scrubbers into a high-pitched whir.

Doctor Stefaniya Losenko emerged from the light first, her rebreather mask hanging around her neck and her uniform stained with dark, damp spores. Beside her, Aidan materialized still cradling the small, charcoal-grey bundle that was Xurbam. The golden-furred A’shura remained clutched tightly to the alien's chest, its fur matted and dull.

"Straight to Bed 1," Stefaniya commanded, her voice raspy but authoritative as she bypassed the usual pleasantries. She locked eyes with Rio. "He's in a state of metabolic 'simmering.' His cellular regeneration is hyper-active, but his core temperature is dropping. We have a biological tether with the creature—if they are separated, the thermal shock will be fatal. He’s emaciated, severely dehydrated, and his respiratory slits are clogged with local spores."

The Trill science chief nodded mutely, gently depositing his burden on the indicated bed. "I told you," he whispered softly as he eased the man down to make him more comfortable.

Xurbam’s lidless violet eyes darted around the bright, white ceiling, overwhelmed by the sudden absence of the long dark. He let out a thready, whistling rasp as Colmo stepped forward, the nurse's mechanical frame whining as he reached out to help settle the survivor into the cradle.

"Xurbam, you’re on the Enterprise," Stefaniya said softly, her hand lingering on the alien’s cold shoulder as the bio-bed’s monitors began a frantic, rhythmic chirping. "The stars are all around you now."

Amber stood watching curiously. “I can only imagine how sterile, and bright Sickbay must seem. May I suggest lowering the light level to make it more comfortable?”

Colmo immediately moved to the lighting panel, his exoskeleton whining in a rhythmic, low-frequency hum. "Sensible suggestion, Counselor. He has been in the dark for quite some time; sudden lumen exposure can cause significant neural distress in species with lidless orbs." With a practiced swipe of his long fingers, the harsh, white clinical glare of the isolation ward softened into a deep, glow - mimicking the gentle radiation of a dying sun.

"Is that better, little one?" Colmo asked, his voice dropping to a soothing, melodic whisper as he moved to Xurbam's side. He carefully adjusted the thermal blankets, ensuring they didn't snag on the A'shura's matted fur. "We are going to wash away the muck and the cold. You are safe."

"Before we do any washing" Rio spoke softly and calmly so as not to alarm the patients. "I want to set up some intravenous fluids for Mister Xurbam but I'd like some clarity Stefaniya, on exactly who is physically bio-tethered to him with life-threatening possibilities if they are removed? Are you talking about the A'shura alone? Or is anyone else essential to Xurbam's thermal stability and if not then we will need to intervene to stabilise the current decline of Xurbam's core temperature, which you're saying is still descending despite the attachment of the two for external warmth?"

"It is the A'shura alone, Doctor," Stefaniya clarified, her voice crisp despite the lingering rasp from the planet's atmospheric muck. Stefaniya turned on the holodisplay of her wrist worn medical tricorder, her fingers moving with rapid, rhythmic precision over the display to transfer her surface telemetry directly to Rio’s master console. "The creature acts as his primary external thermal regulator. Right now, Xurbam's system is locked in an extreme metabolic compromise. Because his core temperature is still declining despite the biological tether, we need to artificially reinforce that bond, not replace it. If we introduce standard, aggressive internal warming methods too quickly, the shock will cause his cellular structures to collapse."

She stepped closer to the cradle, checking the biobed's readouts as they synced with her data, "Let's start a targeted, low-velocity thermal infusion paired with an immediate hydrostatic nutrient line. We have to simulate the ambient pressure of his native environment while we slowly coax his metabolism out of this simmering state. If we do that, we can stabilize his core without triggering a fatal systemic panic."

"Calibrating the low-velocity infusion now, Doctor Kholin," Colmo murmured, his motor-assisted exoskeleton whirring softly as he input the new parameters. He meticulously guided the sterilized, flexible lines toward the biobed, ensuring the pre-charged thermal blankets remained perfectly flush against Xurbam and the shivering A'shura. "Hydrostatic pressure is matching the cradle's ambient seal. Initializing."

Xurbam’s respiratory slits flared as the light dimmed, his cerulean patterns shifting from a panicked strobe to a slow, rhythmic throb. He didn't speak, but his long fingers twitched, relaxing just a fraction against the golden creature's warmth. The weight of the "long dark" was finally lifting, replaced by a warmth that felt like a distant memory of a home he couldn't quite name. Xurbam’s violet orbs tracked the movement of the tall, stranger, the one whose voice sounded like the wind through the crystal caves.

Aidan glanced between the medical officers. "Decon?" He suggested quietly, "I'd like to get clear of all this muck and my eyes washed out. I feel like they're on fire. I trust we can leave his side for a moment to get cleaned up?"

“I’ll remain here with him” Amber answered with a polite smile. “I’ll make sure our guests are okay.” She gave Xurbam and his companion a curious glance there was obviously a close connection between the two, a strong bond.

"Thank you, Counselor" Rio took up the response to this offer with a quiet, appreciative smile.

"Yes, Commander Datari, Decon please. Only the A'shura will need to remain directly in contact with Zurbam but now that we have introduced the Advanced Intensive Care Unit - or Crib - we are in a better medical position to assist with internal interventions as well. I will program in the necessary settings and the 'crib' will produce warm air within a forcefield around them so that the hypothermia can be treated slowly but effectively as we counter the effects of his hyper-cellular regeneration and try to discover what is causing that too." Her agile and practised fingers flitted across the LCARS controls of the medical environment within the ICU bio-bed that contained and began to gently treat the underlying deficiencies in the 'Xurba-Shura-linked-combination' within.

"Perhaps you might be kind enough to stay too, Petty Officer Colmo. I have noticed that our patient's eyes are following you and I have a feeling he's beginning to respond on an instinctive level to your kind voice. Well done, Colmo, you're clearly a natural." Rio added, returning her concentration to the settings and results from the ICU-bed and its occupants.

A gentle, warm smile touched Colmo's lips at the Chief Medical Officer's praise, "I'd be glad to stay, Doctor. Our little friend has spent a long time in the cold; a little kindness might be the best medicine we can offer before the hyposprays do their work." He stepped a fraction closer to Bed 1, keeping his movements fluid and unhurried so the whining gears of his chassis wouldn't startle the senses of the survivor. His long fingers danced briefly over the side panel, fine-tuning the localized ultrasonic mist that continued to clear Xurbam's respiratory slits.

Amber meanwhile was focussing her senses on their two closely intertwined guests, she frowned for a moment her sense of Xurbam was like wading through thick fog. He was giving off a heavy wave of isolation, and a sense of sensory deprivation from his time spent alone on the planet. She could only imagine how his deep feeling of loneliness and survival must have contrasted sharply with the sudden "noise" and brightness of Sickbay. Her attention was drawn to his companion, a life form she hadn’t encountered before yet they were so tightly bound together. What she was sensing from A’shura was a ball of pure, instinctual survival, heat generation, and a sharp vigilance, no doubt due to it adapting to the new environment of Sickbay. They were a curious pair to say the least.

Nodding, Aidan moved from the isolated ward to the decon chamber and started to wrap himself out of his suit, to the point where it ended almost inside out when he was done. He was left in his uniform pants and undershirt, waiting patiently for the process to start. As he'd been mostly in a suit, with most of his face and hair exposed to the muck, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to strip down almost completely as each situation warranted a different procedure.

Stefaniya watched the environmental cradle hum, a tight nod of satisfaction breaking through her clinical focus. Only when Rio and Colmo fully took over the monitoring did she finally register the heavy, wet weight of her own uniform. Her collar was stiff with copper-tinted muck, and the pungent, decaying scent of the Chamra spores was beginning to bake under Sickbay’s ambient heating.

She looked over at Aidan, who was already peeling out of his environmental suit by the chamber.

"I'm right behind you, Commander," Stefaniya said, having finally registered the heavy, wet weight of her own uniform. Giving Xurbam one last protective glance, she walked toward the Chief Science Officer, "If I stay out here any longer, I’ll trigger the bio-hazard alarms myself."

Aidan chuckled as he stepped behind the privacy screen and disrobed until he was just in his shorts. "See if we can save any of this biohazard for study," he suggested, "after decon I mean. I want to see how our procedures affect these spores." He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of being cleansed by the decontaminating rays. He reached up to run his hands through his hair as if to make sure all the muck 'washed' out.

"Don't worry, Aidan, I already snagged a pristine molecular culture before we left the runabout's lab," she replied, stepping into the adjacent bay. She stripped down to her standard-issue undershirt, her skin tingling as the high-intensity decontaminating field flared to life above them. The harsh violet light washed down in silent, microscopic waves, vaporizing the remaining Chamra spores and instantly soothing the deep, burning irritation in her lungs.

She leaned her head back against the bulkhead, closing her eyes as the warm, neutralizing mist began to rinse away the lingering copper stench of the rogue planet. "You won't have to study what's on our skin. By tomorrow morning, I'll have a full breakdown of the spore-growth ready for the Science lab. For now, let the ship do the heavy lifting," her smile devolving into a fresh wave of coughing.

Aidan turned his head towards her as she erupted into a coughing fit. "Are you alright?" He asked as he inched closer, a concerned look on his face. "I meant residue from the decon process, I want that analysed too," he added, now rubbing his watering eyes. "Somehow I feel Decon has an adverse effect..." He paused, watching her closely through blurred vision. "You shouldn't be coughing..." Another pause, followed by a mild coughing of his own. "We should've kept our masks on until we got in here," he concluded. "Stripping down loosened the spores and we inhaled them."

Stefaniya waved a hand to dismiss his concern, but the gesture dissolved into a ragged cough that forced her against the bulkhead. Her streaming eyes tracked the glittering drift of residual dust catching the violet light.

"The rebreathers," she choked out, her voice a strained whisper. "The filters were choked from the surface. Stripping down must have loosened the loose spores before the vacuum caught them. They aren't neutralizing under the agent, Aidan, they're aerosolizing. They're feeding on it."

Fighting a sharp, metallic burn in her chest, she struck the wall comm. "Losenko to Sickbay. Rio, the Chamra spores are highly reactive to the decon mist. They're feeding on the counteragents."

The Trill moved towards her and gently helped her to sit down though he wasn't fairing much better. "We need to be washed down," he suggested, his words broken up by coughing fits. "And .." He closed his burning eyes and leaned back against the wall. "Oxygen," he gasped out.

The gentle hiss of the primary isolation doors breaking their seal provided a momentary baseline of quiet within the ward, signaling the departure of the away team as they headed down the corridor toward decontamination. Turning his attention fully back to Bed 1, Colmo watched the specialized containment field of the advanced incubator ripple into a soft, protective field.

The localized environmental adjustments were taking hold. Within the cradle, the survivor’s fragile, charcoal-grey form was fully revealed. Xurbam was an elegant, gaunt being, his slender limbs and elongated digits resting limply against the biobed. Lacking eyelids, his wide, luminous violet orbs remained fixed on his surroundings, shifting with a profound, quiet vulnerability. Along his temples and torso, intricate cerulean bioluminescent patterns, which had been flashing in a panicked strobe on arrival, had slowed to a steady, rhythmic throb. His respiratory slits, situated just along his collarbone, flared gently as the ultrasonic mist dissolved the last of the local planet's spore-crust.

Clutched tightly against Xurbam's chest was his bizarre, vital companion. The A’shura was a striking paradox of biology, a creature that looked like an impossible cross between a feline and a crustacean. It possessed a soft, matted coat of dense, golden fur, but beneath that warmth was a low-slung, segmented body supported by six articulated, crab-like legs. The legs twitched occasionally, its tiny claws gently gripping Xurbam’s tunic. The creature remained a ball of pure, vigilant survival instinct, radiating a localized heat that perfectly synchronized with the alien's own recovering biometrics.

Colmo adjusted the tension settings on his motor-assisted exoskeleton with a practiced flick of his long wrist, allowing the mechanical chassis to settle into a near-silent stance that kept his towering silhouette from looming aggressively in the dimmed light. His large, dark eyes tracked the shifting biometrics on the master display console, his airy, melodic lilt dropping to a soft, rhythmic hum meant to soothe the hyper-sensitive auditory nerves of the survivor. The sudden, pneumatic whisper of the primary doors breaking their seal once more drew Colmo’s attention away from the console. Even before the visitor fully crossed the threshold, the subtle shift in air currents and the prompt posture adjustment from the others signaled a commanding presence arriving from the Bridge.

Commander Zhora zh'Roothi stepped into the twilight glow of the ward, her striking blue Andorian skin and stark white hair catching the ambient amber aura of the intensive care cradle. Her antennae swept forward slightly, charting the room's atmosphere and centering on the fragile alien couple before she locked eyes with the Chief Medical Officer. Leaning slightly toward the Counselor, Colmo let out a faint, melodic whisper that barely carried over the hum of the biobeds. "Counselor," he murmured, his eyes indicating the arriving First Officer, "I suspect the Commander is here to follow up on our passenger's status. She will likely want to speak with you and the Doc about him."

Straightening up, Colmo offered a respectful, fluid tilt of his head to the First Officer, careful not to disrupt the delicate equilibrium of the silent ward.

Meeting the questioning gaze of the XO, Rio stood more formally and began to offer a summary of the medical condition of Xurbam and his apparently symbiotic relationship with the A'shura, hence their close attachment. She explained the basics of his vital stats and the apparent hypothermia, dehydration and the fact that the away team who had brought him in, had gone into decontamination just a short while ago. She indicated the intravenous fluids she had administered and the added warmth to assist his return to whatever his normal would turn out to be. She then waited to see if the zh'Roothi had any questions for her.

The Andorian woman nodded slowly listening intently to the Doctor as she explained the complexity of Xurbam's plight and unusual connection with the golden creature perched upon his chest. It's dull, yellow hair became briefly visible as its humanoid host inhaled the cleansing vapours.

"I'd like to speak with Xurbam," the Commander said, however their muted conversation was interrupted expectantly.

The urgent crackle of the comms cut through the quiet ward like a physical blow, shattered by the raw panic in Stefaniya’s voice, "Losenko to Sickbay. Rio, the Chamra spores are highly reactive to the decon mist. They're feeding on the counteragents."

"Doctor Kholin, go," Nurse Selou urged, speaking with a calm, deliberate precision to steady the room. "Take what you need and get to the decontamination hub before those spores compromise their airways further. I will stay right here and maintain a strict watch on Mister Xurbam and the cradle. He is stabilizing under the mist, and I have the biometrics fully slaved to this station."

Rio only needed seconds to confirm to herself that this was an accurate assessment before she leaped into action, instinctively snatching up her personal med-kit and getting across the sickbay Isolation Suite to the de-contamination section at speed. "Agreed" was all she had time to affirm as she was already leaving.

Side stepping to allow Rio a hasty exit Zhora couldn't hide her concern but trusted both the medical staff and automated safety protocols should the hazard escalate.

Selou then shifted his gaze toward the Counselor and the First Officer, gesturing with a fluid tilt of his head toward the adjoining bulkhead. "Counselor, perhaps it would be best if you and the Commander use the Doctor's Office to discuss what you've sensed from our passenger so far? It will keep the main ward clear for the medical team, and it's far more secure if we need to isolate this bay."

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Zhora replied but knew it was a wise precaution offered by the nurse. "Counselor?" she prompted Amber.

Amber nodded. “Right with you Commander.”

Sherlock appeared in sickbay out of nowhere, his eyes a whirl of white and red in clear alarm. It was obvious that the blur did have the sense not to go to his master but the creature's distress was very clear. He didn't screech in alarm but instead emitted a worried series of chirps and chitters as he hovered around the two women he seemed to trust. His sudden appearance was a good indicator to his master's own distress.

The XO hesitated, her eyes shifting between Sherlock's anxious demeanour and the counselor debating what lengths Aidan's companion would go to ensure his safety. His unique ability to teleport may be problematic if bio lock down was required.

"Sherlock," she called attempted to gain his attention. "Aidan is in good hands, but it's not safe to be with him right now. Come, wait with Amber and I."

The dragon took to hovering before the Andorian woman then carefully settled on her shoulder and crooned worriedly. He seemed to understand the XOs words but the whirl in his eyes didn't seem to slow.

“Don’t worry he’ll be okay” Amber offered hoping Sherlock would somehow understand, she could sense the dragon like creature’s distressed emotions.

The blue chirped anxiously but didn't move from the XO's shoulder. His talons dug into the padding of her uniform's shoulder but so far didn't damage the fabric. His colour was seemingly paler than before as he reacted to his master's lack of oxygen.

"I know it's not easy," Zhora said softly to Sherlock and gently stroked his chest and foreleg. "But he'll be alright. In the meanwhile," she glanced back toward the secondary chamber and Amber. "We should give them space, and you can offer me a second opinion and our guest."

The doors to the consultation room hissed shut, cutting off the anxious, high-pitched chitters of Aidan’s displaced fire-lizard. Through the reinforced observation glass, Colmo watched the First Officer and Counselor Laurell, their heads bent in a low, private consultation. For a moment, the silence of the ward settled into a familiar, rhythmic hum - the soothing, steady thrum of the advanced incubator and the low-frequency whine of his own motor-assisted exoskeleton keeping the 1G gravity from snapping his fragile Elaysian bones.

Left entirely alone with the survivor, Colmo stepped closer to Bed 1. His long, graceful fingers tapped the localized LCARS interface, pulling up Xurbam’s active neural profile. The initial readouts were stable, displaying the expected, singular baseline of a sentient mind emerging from prolonged sensory deprivation. The cerulean patterns on the alien's gaunt, charcoal-grey flesh throbbed with a slow, reassuring violet glow.

Then, the monitor chirped: a sharp, anomalous spike that disrupted the rhythmic hum.

Colmo frowned, his large, dark eyes narrowing as he adjusted the scanning resolution. A secondary neural cluster was blooming on the display, a jagged, aggressive frequency overlaying Xurbam’s peaceful baseline. It wasn't the instinctive, survival-driven heat of the golden A'shura clutched to the alien's chest. This was separate. A cold, calculating sentience was violently clawing its way to the surface of Xurbam's mind.

"Mister Xurbam?" Colmo murmured, his airy, lyrical lilt dropping to a cautious whisper. He reached out, intending to adjust the hydrostatic nutrient line, but froze.

The gaunt alien’s lidless violet eyes had stopped tracking the ceiling. They were locked onto Colmo. The slow, soothing cerulean throb along Xurbam’s temples instantly vanished, replaced by a jagged, blinding flash of hostile crimson light.

Before the nurse could strike the emergency wall comm, the neural display fractured completely. A third, then a fourth distinct alpha-wave pattern erupted on the screen, tearing through the patient's biological architecture like a wildfire. Xurbam’s chest heaved. The fragile, vulnerable survivor who had spent a lifetime in the long dark evaporated in a fraction of a second, replaced by something ancient, feral, and utterly devoid of mercy.

With terrifying, unnatural speed, Xurbam lunged upward from the metabolic cradle. The golden A’shura was violently cast aside, screeching as it hit the deck plates. Long, emaciated fingers, driven by a sudden, hyper-accelerated surge of adrenaline, shot forward like a mechanical vice.

Colmo didn't even have time to gasp. The alien's hand clamped around his throat with impossible, bone-crushing force.

The motor-assisted exoskeleton whirred violently, its gears grinding and screaming as the mechanical frame tried to force Colmo's arms upward to break the chokehold, but Xurbam’s leverage was absolute. The alien used the nurse’s own heavy, earth-normal gravity against him, slamming Colmo’s towering frame backward onto the edge of the console. The impact shattered the auxiliary data ports. Alarms began to blare, but the sound was muffled by the roaring rush of blood in Colmo's ears. He thrashed, his long fingers tearing uselessly at the alien’s cold, unyielding wrists. Xurbam’s face was mere inches from his own, the lidless violet orbs wide, vacant, and burning with a terrifying multiplicity of minds.

A sickening snap echoed through the isolated ward as the pressure proved too much for the nurse's delicate vertebrae. The frantic, screaming alarms of the console faded into a sudden, absolute weightlessness, and Petty Officer Colmo Selou slipped into a dark deeper than the rogue world outside.

The terminal failure of Petty Officer Selou’s bio-signatures triggered the emergency backup protocols instantly.

The primary isolation ward flashed with a sudden, jarring cascade of light as the Enterprise’s Emergency Medical Hologram activated. The simulation resolved in a fraction of a second from a stream of photons into the solid, imposing form of a man clad in a sterile-white medical jumpsuit with a high collar and an intricate golden IDIC pendant on a heavy chain. With his distinctive, well-trimmed grey beard and an expression of sharp, immediate urgency, Leonard McCoy, or "Sawbones" as the personality matrix preferred, looked less like a cutting-edge program and more like a country doctor stepping directly into a disaster area.

He didn't spare a glance for the blaring consoles or the shattered data ports. His eyes locked instantly onto the crumpled form of the Elaysian nurse lying beneath the edge of the console, his motor-assisted exoskeleton sparking and groaning under the earth-normal gravity.

"Blast it all!" Sawbones growled, dropping to one knee with a medical tricorder already materializing in his grip. His gruff, baritone voice cracked through the alarms. "Colmo! Hold on, son..."

Before the Tricorder could emit its first sweep, a shadow fell over the doctor. Driven by the violent frenzy of its fractured minds, Xurbam lunged again, abandoning the nurse to launch his multi-limbed assault at the new intruder. Long, gaunt digits, still radiating a hostile crimson throb, swept directly toward the EMH’s throat to repeat the killing chokehold. But the assault failed instantly. Xurbam’s arm passed straight through Sawbones’ neck without meeting an ounce of resistance, encountering only friction-free energy and light. The momentum carried the alien forward, causing him to stagger through the holographic form and slam hard into the sterile bulkhead behind the bio-bed.

"I'm a doctor, not a target," Sawbones snapped as his body momentarily pixelated from the impact. His attention never wavered from Colmo's fractured vertebrae. He kept his back turned to the threat, his digital fingers frantically adjusting the tricorder's sub-atomic resolution. "Go on, run! Try to fight a photon array all you want, but I’ve got a man dying on my deck!"

Realizing the futility of his attack and hearing the sudden hiss of the secondary doors as the security grid reacted to the console's damage, Xurbam panicked. The calculated logic of one personality overrode the feral instinct of another; he knew he couldn't stay. Abandoning the golden-furred A’shura on the deck plates, the alien vaulted over the shattered terminal and bolted through the isolation ward's threshold, vanishing into the corridor just as the sirens began to wail shipwide.

Sawbones paid the escape no mind. He leaned closer to the fallen nurse, his face set in a grim, desperate line. "Hang on, Colmo. Just hang on..."

Behind the holo Doctor boots came thundering in. At the lead having been stunned by the sudden violent scene she'd witnessed Commander zh'Roothi was issuing orders over the comm: "Security to sickbay, I want this deck sealed! Bridge, I need you to track our alien guest and detain him, with force if necessary."

The arriving security detail quickly secured the ward and surrounding area before fanning out to conduct searches. Thus far Xurbam was both frustratingly slippery and elusive, neither of which Zhora had found surprising considering the remarkable shift between passive to hyper aggressive she'd partly observed.

She turned away from Sawbones as he attempted to aid Colmo, her gaze hard and angry. "Amber," Zhora directed. "Track through the data from the bio-bed, find out what triggered this and why."

Sherlock squawked as he was dislodged when the XO broke into a run, bru graceful glided in after her, remaining aloft to survey the area. He was looking more vibrant in colour but still far paler than usual. After a few seconds he glided down to sit in the deck next to the injured nurse and crooned softly as if to rouse him.

"Get that flying lizard off my deck before I swat it with a clipboard!" Sawbones barked, not even looking up as his thumb aggressively recalibrated the medical tricorder. The device was letting out a frantic, high-pitched whine that sounded as miserable as the old country doctor felt. He didn't give a damn about the security detail thundering in, and he gave even less of a damn about the alien specimen in the jar. He was on his knees in the sparks and shattered LCARS glass, his holographic hands desperately sweeping a localized stasis field over Colmo’s neck to stabilize what little neural activity remained.

A’shura, the golden ball of hair that had been discarded in Xurbam's flight shuffled across the deck catching the XO's attention. Erring on the side of caution she scooped up the critter in a specimen jar and peered at the oddity with its crab-like legs and matted hair. "I thought their connection was complexly intertwined," she said. "What the hell happened?"

Spotting the creature as curious as himself, Sherlock nudged Colmo gently in what might be encouragement before hopping up to study the golden creature. He tilted his head, tapping a talon against the glass, chirping as if to ask who and what it was.

"Dammit, Zhora, don't just stand there analyzing the local wildlife!" Sawbones growled, his baritone cracking with pure, old-fashioned fury as he looked up at the Executive Officer. "We've got a severe cervical fracture here, the boy's vertebrae are completely crushed, and his nervous system is shorting out faster than a burnt-out replicator! I need a neuro-regenerator, a full micro-grav unit to get this earth-normal weight off his chest, and I need 'em yesterday!"

"Yes, of course," the Andorian replied meekly having been chastised by a hologram. She'd allowed her curiosity to win out over Colmo's pressing needs selflessly. "Look after this for me Sherlock," she smirked at the little dragon which demonstrated an equal level of curiosity.

Sherlock didn't really understand the shimmering creature that was shouting out at everyone. He tapped the container with a talon again and chirped at Zhora as if to tell her he'd watch the little creature.

"Good boy," the XO winked before hurrying to help Sawbones and shot a glance at the counsellor on the way. "Why did he snap, what could have caused this?" she asked them both.

“That’s a question I wish I had an answer to” Amber added with a frown. “That’s one hell of a case of multi personality.”

"He didn't just snap, Commander," Sawbones said, his voice dropping into a grim, dark register as he looked back down at the unmoving nurse. The hologram deactivated the tricorder with such force that it pixelated his knuckles for a brief second. He glared at the console where Amber was supposed to be pulling data. "His brainwaves didn't look like a single mind short-circuiting. It was a damn crowd in there. Now somebody help me lift him before gravity finishes what that multi-limbed lunatic started!"

"Over here," Zhora signed for the security officer who'd remained close by to step and aid in carrying Colmo onto a nearest bio. "Amber, if you can?" she asked.

Amber nodded. “Of course” she moved to help, even though she was half Vulcan she still had the added strength her Vulcan genetics gave her, which helped in lifting Colmo.

Inside the specimen jar, the matted ball of golden fur stopped shuffling. Its crab-like legs locked rigid against the glass, pressing flat against the transparent barrier directly opposite the lizard. A sudden, silent spike of telepathic energy spiked from the container. It wasn't a vocalization, but a raw, psychic broadcast aimed squarely at the reptilian mind on the other side of the glass, heavy with a crushing sense of ancient duty and absolute terror.

"Fire-breather. Keeper of the sky-pack. Hear me," The entity's thought-waves rippled with desperate urgency, feeling like a heavy iron slamming down. "Xurbam is broken, the vault has cracked. I am not his companion - I am his cage. The multi-mind is a plague of voices, an ancient contagion of the blood. My kind was engineered to bind them, to keep the dark ones quiet in the deep, but the vessel's adrenaline has burned through my suppressive fields."

The golden creature shivered against the glass, its multi-limbed frame pulsing with a faint, erratic light as it pushed its final, vital plea across the mental link. "I have no choice now, I must trust your pack. I implore you, small dragon to tell the ones who command this iron bird they must not allow him to escape. Contain him here. Cut him down! Destroy the vessel if you must but keep him from the cradle. Help me lock the door again. Help me!"

Eye colour changing from an alarmed red to the white of danger, speckled with purple to indicate confusion, Sherlock shrieked to draw attention. He sent images of said confusion but also confirmation to the golden creature, not understanding the words but he did understand to a degree. He wasn't as smart as the golden females of his species or the bronze males, but he was well trained.

Sherlock took wing and drew the counselor's attention, his wings causing waves of wind as he hovered before her, whirling eyes fixed on her in a desperate attempt to get the cry for help across. He chirped anxiously, hoping she would understand.

Amber cringed turning to Sherlock before turning back towards Xurbam’s companion. She understood the sense of urgency but trying to get a full understanding would need a connection that she was sensing from the captive golden creature. “You’re trying to say something..” she nodded to Sherlock. “I need to understand better.” She paused before taking a chance, lifting the specimen jar to allow the creature direct contact if it was needed. “Now… tell me.”

Zhora turned sharply at raucous behind her as Sherlock squawked and beat his wings relentlessly. She saw Laurell reach for the glass jar containing the furry yellow alien and called out in warning a fraction too late.

The moment the glass barrier was removed, the A'shura did not waste time with gentle greetings. It struck the Counselor's mind with the full, unshielded weight of its purpose, forcing images of a vast, suffocating dark and warring voices directly into her consciousness.

"The half-blood feels the iron," the entity's thought-waves rippled into Amber's mind, heavy with absolute panic. "You see the threads. You must make the masters of this iron bird comprehend. Xurbam is not a patient. He is a walking catacomb of an ancient, sentient plague." The golden creature shivered violently against the cold deck plates, its crab-like legs twitching as it exhausted its remaining bio-electric energy to maintain the desperate mental bridge. "My kind was engineered to be a living seal over the contagion in his blood, to keep the dark ones quiet in the deep, but his awakening - the surge of adrenaline - has burned through my suppressive fields. The cage is open. Every personality he absorbs, every life he snuffs out like the one on the floor, only adds to the strength of the collective."

It pushed a final, blinding telepathic scream directly into her logical centers, pulsing with a crushing sense of ancient duty. "He is not fleeing to save himself. The multi-mind is seeking the cradle - the main shuttlebay! If he takes a vessel and escapes this system, the contagion will scatter across the stars. Tell your pack to seal the bay! Use lethal force! You must destroy the vessel before the collective claims the dark! Help me lock the door again! Help me!"

Clinging to the counselor's tunic, Sherlock chirped in support of A'shura's cry for help. Leaning forward from her shoulder, he nuzzled the creature in his own attempt to offer support to it.

Before anyone could respond, the primary Sickbay doors hissed open. Nurse Tiazal Jiru burst into the ward, her spots flushed deep with panic as she frantically checked her PADD.

"Doctor! Commander!" Jiru yelled, her voice cutting through the alarms. "Internal comms are flooded. We have multiple casualties reported throughout the Saucer Section! Security teams are down, and there's a localized dampening field spreading!"

Inside the jar, the A'shura pulsed with a final, desperate wave of telepathic energy, its thoughts screaming outward in a raw psychic broadcast: "The flight deck! Tell them to destroy the vessel! Keep him from the stars!"

"Damn it all to hell!" Sawbones barked, his holographic knuckles white as he maintained the stasis field over Colmo. "A walking catacomb of a plague, casualties on every deck, and I'm stuck trying to piece a boy's spine back together! Someone stop this bastard before he turns my ship into a flying cemetery!"

"Let's take one step at a time," Zhora cut across before the others could retort to the hologram. Retrieving the discarded seal she clipped it firmly across the threshold of the glass jar severing the connection between A'shura and the counsellor.

Sherlock squawked in protest as the golden creature was locked away, eyes still a whirl of white and purple. The dragon's distress was visible and palpable.

With a firm grip the First Officer steered Amber by the shoulders towards another bio to recover from her telepathic connection and extracted the jar from her grasp. Though she'd seen the counsellor endure her share of such events previously it did little to relieve the concern etched upon her face. "Rest here a moment," she instructed.

Amber took a few moments to get over the shock of the sheer power of the connection. To say it was mind blowing was a total understatement. “We have to…” she paused. “We have to…stop him reaching the…shuttlebay.”

Sherlock had stayed with the counselor as she was steered away and crooned at her in worry and distress. Why didn't the bipeds understand? If only his master was here, but the dragon sensed the man was unable to because he was unwell and that added to the dragon's sense of distress as well. He was cut off from his master, he did understand the concept of quarantine, having been faced with it often enough.

“Thank you Sherlock” Amber offered a smile to her dragon-like companion.

"Jiru," Zhora turned to the flustered nurse. "Tell me, what's happening?"

“I can tell you” Amber looked towards Zhora. “A’shura told me, showed me, Xurbam has to be stopped! If he gets off this ship he’ll destroy everything!”

The sharp, frantic whine of the Medical Tricorder flatlined into a low, piercing drone that cut straight through the chaos of the room. Sawbones froze. On the biobed, the last erratic spikes of Nurse Colmo’s neural activity flatlined into a cold, unbroken horizontal line on the overhead monitors. The localized stasis field flickered and died, leaving nothing but the heavy, unmoving reality of a crushed spine and a lost soul.

"Son of a..." Sawbones muttered, his baritone voice suddenly dropping all its previous thunder, replaced by a hollow, gravelly quiet. He slowly lowered the medical device as he looked down at the Elaysian nurse, his digital features tightening into a mask of pure, unadulterated failure. "I had him. I damn well had him." He stood up slowly, the golden IDIC pendant on his chest catching the harsh crimson glare of the isolation ward's alert lights. He didn't look at the dragon, he didn't look at the specimen jar, and he didn't care about the telepathic politics of the universe. A boy was dead on his deck, and he was one of many.

Turning his sharp, grey-bearded gaze toward the Executive Officer and the Counselor, the old country doctor's personality matrix flared with a cold, lethal finality. "You don't need to wait for a sensor report to know what's happening, Commander," Sawbones snapped, pointing a stiff, accusatory finger toward the lifeless biobed. "That creature didn't just break his bones; it stole the boy's mind to feed that damn crowd in its head. Colmo is gone." He stepped away from the bed, his form seamlessly passing through the edge of a stray instrument tray without making a sound. He looked right at Zhora, his eyes burning. "Now stop jawing about what this creature wants and get up to that Bridge. If you don't blow that shuttle into atomic dust the second it leaves the hangar, every casualty Jiru just reported is going to be just the first paragraph of our obituary."

The Andorian woman returned the holo's heated gaze and for a micro second considered a scathing reply or threat to have Ash reprogram him to include manners, but ultimately Sawbones was right. Xurbam had to be stopped immediately before any more harm came to the crew or beyond - a task that couldn't be conducted from Sickbay especially as internal communications had been interrupted. "We need to hurry to the bridge," she said. "Amber the Commodore will want to hear this first hand, can you manage?"

Sherlock sat back on his haunches, partially spreading his wings and let out a keening wail of sorrow in respect to the young nurse's passing. Then he settled restlessly against the counselor to continue and offer his support.

Amber nodded. “Keep A’shura safe, we may need extra help.”

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