Rusty Cage

Posted on Sun Jun 7th, 2026 @ 10:45pm by Commodore Wilkan Targaryen & Commander Galatea & Enterprise Officer NPC & Commander Ash Randall & Lieutenant Commander Sora Bernadotte

4,830 words; about a 24 minute read

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

Standing on the upper observation gantry of Cargo Bay 1, Lieutenant B'ree Thairtu wiped a grease-stained thumb across her green brow, her gaze locked on bay below. The air in Cargo Bay 1 was five degrees too cold and smelled faintly of industrial solvent and static discharge. It was exactly how she liked it because it kept the casual talkers out.

Her meticulously customized tool belt, made of a heavy leather rig packed with diagnostic drivers and manual torque wrenches, clinked softly against her hip as she leaned against the railing. She'd been paying attention to what was going on as the pieces of the alien debris came aboard the ship. She didn't care about the diplomatic hand-wringing or the tragic backstory of the mysterious alien in Sickbay. She cared about mechanics and a ruptured alien data core was a practical puzzle waiting to be torn down and understood.

"Transporter cycle initializing," the automated bay computer chimed as the deck plates beneath her boots thrummed with a heavy, localized bass note as the primary emitter coils engaged.

A vertical pillar of blinding white light erupted on the center of the pad. The materialization was rough; the ship's low-altitude swoop through the rogue world's atmospheric soup caused the particle matrix to snap and pop with violent static. When the glare finally dissolved, it left behind a mangled, horrific hunk of metal that looked like it had been chewed up and spat out by a gravity well. It was a jagged section of hull plating, roughly three meters across, blackened by atmospheric reentry and crusted with a thick, iridescent violet moss that seemed to actively crawl across the scarred alloy. Right in the center of the wreckage, half-buried under warped support struts, was the prize: a cylindrical, metallic drum the size of a warp core plasma injector, pulsing with an uneven, dying light.

The smell hit the observation gantry a second later - a pungent, copper-and-methane stench mixed with the sharp tang of burning composite material. B'ree didn't hesitate. She vaulted over the gantry railing, dropping the two meters to the deck plates with a dull, heavy thud of her standard-issue boots. She pulled her laser welder from her hip, her thumb flipping the safety toggle to standby before she even reached the edge of the bio-containment field that had automatically snapped to life around the pad.

"Computer, seal the immediate cargo grid and run a localized atmospheric sweep on that bio-matter," B'ree commanded, her tone flat, clipped, and completely devoid of inflection. Her dark eyes scanned the ruptured casing of the data core, completely ignoring the creeping flora. "Let's see what kind of universal joinings this piece of junk uses."

The cargo bay doors groaned behind her, signaling the arrival of the Chief Engineer and the new Operations Chief. B'ree didn't look up from the diagnostic projection of her Tricorder. There was a machine on her deck, it was broken, and she was already figuring out which tool would open it first.

Ash stepped into the cargo bay and paused, just inside the door, while she took in the scene playing out before her. The Chief Engineer looked to Sora, for a second or two, then back to Lieutenant Thairtu poised at the very edge of containment. "A moment, Lieutenant." Ash called out, quietly. "Lets remove the violet stuff from the equation by transporting it bio-containment so bio-sciences can do their thing and we can do ours without risking, whatever it is, potentially eating us or the ship." Ash suggested, while she approached closer, her full senses focused on the wreckage.

"Good call," Sora added, stepping out to the edge of the containment field. "Curious. That stuff should have been removed by the transporter."

Ash stopped a pace or two from the containment field and nodded a couple times, while in silent commiseration with herself. "Computer, enhance containment field against transphasic and hyperspacial threats and then flood containment with an audio signal starting from 60hz and modulate up in 100hz increments, every 2 seconds, until indicated to stop." The Chief Engineer instructed.

B’ree’s thumb hovered over the activation toggle of her laser welder, her focus fixed on the structural alloy of the casing, tracking the erratic pulsing of the dying light beneath the warped struts. When Ash’s quiet voice cut through the thrum of the dampening fields, B'ree didn't flinch. She simply tilted her head, her green skin catching the stark glare of the cargo bay’s overhead tracking lights. To her, speculating about why a machine had failed was a waste of processing power; the fact was, it had failed, and the creeping violet sludge was currently on her deck and required their attention.

"Transporter buffers were probably choking on the atmospheric density during the low-altitude swoop, Commander," B’ree stated, her voice a flat, uninflected monotone that barely carried over the rising hum of the audio signal. "The bio-filters couldn't scrub the high-frequency nitrogen bonds fast enough without dropping the entire materialization matrix." She looked down at her tricorder projection, watching the real-time structural stress analysis of the mangled hull plating as the sound waves began to ripple through the containment field.

"Doesn't matter, ultimately," Sora replied with a shake of her head. "What does matter, Lieutenant, is that you are in there with no hazmat equipment. And we currently have a medical emergency situation ongoing over in the decon chambers involving the landing party. So, get yourself some protective equipment, that is an order."

B’ree didn't immediately move to grab a hazard suit, her eyes tracking the spot on the deck plates where the violet puddle had just been dematerialized. A direct order from the Operations Chief was a direct order, but her internal logic dictate-check was already assessing the true level of threat. The sound frequencies had separated the slime from the metal cleanly enough, leaving the prize bare. She clicked her laser welder back into its heavy leather holster on her hip, the metallic snick echoing in the cold air of the bay. Turning her head slightly toward Sora, her expression remained entirely unreadable, the deep emerald of her skin catching the newly cleared reflection of the grey hull fragment.

"Understood, Commander," B’ree said, her voice maintaining its trademark flat, mechanical monotone. "Suiting up now."

She turned her gaze away from the technician and towards the hunk of scrap metal that had been beamed aboard. Beneath the violet residue, the fragment of the wreckage was constructed of a dull grey metal that had been blackened by weapons fire, the heat of entering the atmosphere, fire, or a combination of these and potentially other factors. Beyond that, there were no recognizable markings, nothing that appeared to be a window, or any other remarkable features. On the side that would have been the ship's interior, the remnants of what appeared to be a console were the only thing that remained of the vessel's furnishings, its surface cracked open and revealing the datacore inside it.

"That right there is what we are after," Sora said, pointing at the core. "From a superficial look at least, it doesn't seem like this shred of scrap will tell us anything else. Without anything else to look at, we won't be able to learn anything about the ship's configuration or its origin, really. Unless there is some painfully obvious revelation in material analysis, I suppose."

Ash stared at the wreckage, from outside the containment field, expectantly, while the resonance frequency inside containment modulated up and out of Hz into the kHz range until it reached 860 kHz and the violet residue began to 'flow' off the wreckage and into a puddle on the floor that bubbled and rippled in an agitated manner. "Computer, hold at 860 kHz, prepare bio-hazard containment and transport the life form into bio-hazard containment when ready." Ash ordered and nodded when she received order confirmation. The Chief Engineer looked to Sora for a second or two and then to the lieutenant as her orders were carried out and the violet puddle shimmered for a second or two and then disappeared. "Better safe than sorry. Some protection will still be in order." She stated, quietly. "Computer, cease resonance frequency." She ordered to confirmation from the computer.

"I get the impression that this is OLD." Ash mused, quietly.

"You're right about the timeline, Chief," B’ree called back over her shoulder, her fingers already unlatching the seals on a standard-issue engineering hazard vest. "Look at the compression stamping on those fractured support ribs. That’s not modern. The molecular density suggests a composite. Nobody has used that layout in this sector for over a century. This thing didn't just crash, it's been curing in that swamp."

Stepping back to the edge of the now-clear containment field, she raised her tricorder, her thumb flicking a physical manual dial on the side rather than trusting the automated sweeps. "The core's housing is micro-fractured along the primary Bus interface. If it's as old as the hull plates, the memory crystals are going to be volatile. One wrong power surge from a standard diagnostic tap and the whole sequence will cascade into a total wipe." She looked directly at Ash through her visor. "I'm bypassing the automated interface and going in with a physical induction probe to read the residual magnetic field manually. Requesting permission to drop the internal containment shield by three percent to clear the tool pathway?"

The overhead lights suddenly died, plunging the bay into darkness before a jarring crimson pulse shattered the gloom. The klaxons wailed as Galatea’s cold voice echoed, "Intruder Alert. Security grid breached."

Sora cursed as the alarm rang out. "Galatea, what the hell happened?", she asked in confusion, while running over to one of the security lockers and entering her access code. "Forget about the salvage for the moment, I'd recommend we arm ourselves."

"Something to do with our rescued party, I would guess." The Chief Engineer posited, loudly enough to be heard over the klaxon, and looked to B'ree. "Answers will have to wait." She confirmed and indicated to the Lieutenant should arm herself while the Tuansee, casually, knelt down, pulled up her left pant leg, and removed a small phaser from the top of her boot that looked a lot like a Type 2 except it had a, silvery, metallic finish and an, unabashedly, aggressive styling to it. Commander Bernadotte would recognize it, immediately, as a hold out, pulse-phaser, favored by clandestine operatives in her home universe. "Ash looked the direction of Sora and gave her a helpless little shrug that seemed, almost, apologetic.

"Armed and ready, here." She announced, from a crouched, position, her attention now turned to the main door into the cargo area, her tail slowly swishing, back and forth, in a relaxed manner.

"Commanders Bernadotte and Randall," Galatea greeted as her holographic avatar materialized with flawless geometric precision on the gantry above the cargo deck. Around her the alert indicators pulsed with a crisp, red glow as the AI’s flat voice explained, "The survivor, Xurbam, became hyper-aggressive and has forcibly bypassed the isolation fields in Sickbay on Deck 8. There have been casualties, but internal sensors cannot establish a lock."

"He's not coming here," B’ree’s expression remained entirely neutral behind her visor as she said it. She calmly reached into her heavy leather tool rig, pulled out a Phaser, and set the dial to heavy stun, though her gaze shifted away from the local access hatch and returned to the debris. "He wants off this ship, taking the Bridge would be too difficult, and the shuttles are all below us. We can help by figuring out this debris."

"Lieutenant Thairtu's assessment is tactically logical, but the threat has escalated," Galatea’s holographic avatar reported from the gantry, her calm voice cutting through the pulsing red glare of the alarm. "Xurbam has already bypassed the blast doors and descended into the maintenance conduits. His current trajectory is not merely towards the shuttles, but directly to the maintenance decks beneath us. Security Team 3 has been neutralized and the asset is believed to be armed. Commander Kuzos and Security Team 4 are moving to intercept him at the shuttle maintenance docks; however, the phase-variance emitting from the target is actively fracturing our localized internal sensors."

Galatea turned her gaze to Commander Bernadotte and Commander Randall. "I am maintaining the enhanced containment fields around the salvage pad, but remain on high alert. The asset is hostile, armed, and moving with hyper-accelerated speed."

Sora glanced at Ash's weapon and smirked, before shaking her head. "There is nothing we can do from here, at least for now." She turned to Ash. "I know you outrank me, but I have plenty of experience with situations like this. Trust me. I'm taking command of this room."

Her smirk grew wider. "Let's see if this trick works. Computer, execute emergency protocol Blade of Frost." A split second after she called out the command, a tactical utility belt materialized, hovering in front of her. Clipped to the belt was Myrtenaster, Sora's rapier, in its sheath, along with a holstered phaser that looked like a somewhat larger version of the weapon Ash was holding. Swiftly, the Terran grabbed the belt and strapped it on, revealing a dull grey buckle engraved with the insignia of the Terran Empire. "Just the sort of situation I programmed this for," she explained to the others. "Or, well, simply transferred the command structure into Enterprise's computer. Came in handy when I departed Asha, else I wouldn't have this stuff in this universe."

Placing her hand on Myrtenaster's hilt, the Terran stepped towards the door, then turned to face the other two officers. "We need to lock this place down. Lieutenant, extract that data core as quickly as you can, it may hold crucial data regarding our current situation. Commander Randall, deadlock any access points to this room, I want them openable only from the inside, and only manually." With her free hand, she gestured towards one of the displays on the wall. "Galatea, show me live tracking of the asset, I want to know where it's going."

"All points of access to this space were dead locked from main engineering when Red Alert sounded." The Chief Engineer informed, while she nodded to B'ree to get to work. "Galatea, to facilitate tracking I've asked that all maintenance hatches and control junctures be polarized and the maintenance shafts be flooded with, half-life 30, glitter dust. We can't track him but we can track the disruption of the polarization and he'll glow like a disco-ball on sensors once he's come into contact with the glitter dust." Ash summed up as she took a couple bounding steps like it was 1/6thg and then bounced up and onto the overhead gantry. The Engineer was happy to concede command of the room too Sora, under the circumstances though how she had managed the over rides and other actions, initiated from main engineering, without any apparent communication, was a bit of a mystery.

Sora simply nodded. "And now we wait. Let's hope our unwelcome guest doesn't try to get in here." Casually, she drew her pistol in her left hand and looked it over, making sure it was ready to be used - while still keeping the safety on. "How many access points are there to this room that an intruder could get in through, provided they manage to open it?"

"There are exactly three entryways into Cargo Bay 1," Galatea answered from the gantry, her holographic form shifting effortlessly as she synchronized her data output with the main computer. At the AI’s gesture, a wireframe schematic of the compartment projected into the air between the officers. "The primary cargo doors, the upper observation personnel hatch, and the secondary atmospheric ventilation shaft directly behind the salvage pad. All three have been deadlocked, and I have localized a tertiary forcefield network to reinforce the seals."

The holographic avatar’s eyes flashed with a rapid cascade of scrolling sensor code, "Commander Bernadotte, regarding your request for live tracking: the phase-variance emitting from Xurbam continues to fracture standard biometric sweeps; however, I am executing Chief Engineer Randall’s subroutines. Polarization arrays are active, and the maintenance shafts are currently being flooded with the half-life 30 particulate." Galatea paused, her voice remaining perfectly unyielding against the rhythmic wail of the alarms. "The moment the asset disrupts the polarized fields or triggers the particulate sensors, the telemetry will map it."

Ash positioned herself to cover the upper observation personnel hatch and to also cover the secondary atmospheric ventilation shaft while B'ree did her work. "With any luck Kuzos, and company, will bag this being before he can accomplish whatever he is intent upon. Escape seems the logical objective with the assumption that he has no intention of returning to wherever the other ship made off for. It makes me wonder why, if he was purposefully marooned, and they stood guard to make sure he remained so, why now warning was given. Very strange."

Sora slowly paced around the perimeter as she listened and shook her head. "This whole thing is strange. We find a planet where one shouldn't be, then we find a lifeform on it that nobody can quite figure out? This whole situation just rubs me wrong."

Down on the deck plates, B’ree Thairtu completely ignored the talk of rapiers, hidden pulse-phasers, and parallel universes. None of it altered her assignment and she liked it that way. Working with flat, mechanical efficiency, the Orion adjusted her vest and stepped up to the edge of the containment shield. Her dark eyes reflected the erratic, dying light of the ancient device as she pulled a physical induction probe from her heavy leather rig.

"Dropping internal containment boundary by three percent on my mark to clear the tool pathway," B’ree stated in her trademark uninflected monotone, her green skin catching the stark glare of the cargo bay’s lights as she calibrated the magnetic feedback. "Three. Two. One. Mark."

As the shield shimmered and parted just enough to accommodate the probe, B’ree extended her arm with surgical precision, bypassing the automated, corrupted interfaces entirely. The probe pulsed with a low, rhythmic hum as it penetrated the micro-fractured casing of the core. B’ree’s dark eyes locked onto the cascading green telemetry of her manual tricorder, watching the sub-atomic density maps compile in real time. She froze, her brow furrowing as the true scale of the isotopic decay registered on the screen. The flat, mechanical delivery of her voice dropped into a tighter, sharper register.

"This layout isn't recent," B’ree said, her eyes wide as she traced the archaic data stream. "The sub-atomic decay of these memory crystals indicates a total temporal degradation of over eight hundred years. Chief, the compression stamping on the internal bulkhead ribs belongs to pre-collapse alloys that haven't been synthesized in ages." She drew the probe back a fraction, the emerald of her skin washed in the pale light of the screen. "We aren't looking at a contemporary raider's junk, Commanders. This data core has been curing in that rogue world's swamp for nearly a millennium."

"OLD." Ash confirmed. "Best let the Captain know the time frames involved." She confirmed.

"Check for any signs of temporal displacement," Sora immediately ordered, her temporal investigation senses tingling. "Then get that core out there and stabilized, we need to see if we can access any of its content." She tapped her badge.

"I didn't see any temporal residues." The Chief Engineer offered, quietly. "But, you never know, I might have missed it."

"Bernadotte to Bridge. Initial analysis of the core recovered from the wreckage, as well as the wreckage itself, shows signs that this is not recent. According to Lieutenant B'ree, the construction methods used have not been commonly used for a long time, and the core's structure shows at least eight centuries worth of temporal degradation."

"Acknowledged, Commander Bernadotte," Wilkan answered, his voice carrying an unyielding authority. "Lockdown that cargo bay and stand by. We have a containment breach of the highest order, but see if you can find out anything that'll help us. Targaryen out."

"Negative on the temporal displacement, Commander," B’ree stated, her flat tone remaining completely level as she locked the manual induction probe into place. She didn't look up from her Tricorder, her fingers tapping a rhythmic sequence to isolate the ancient data architecture. "The isotopic decay is purely linear. The alloy's crystal matrix shows standard, prolonged exposure to a high-acidity methane environment over a continuous duration of eight hundred and forty-two years, plus or minus twelve." She adjusted her grip on the tool rig, her green brow furrowing slightly as the manual download began to slowly crawl across her interface. "There are no chroniton signatures, no phase-variance anomalies in the metal itself, and no signs of localized tachyon exposure. This junk didn't fall through a wormhole or snap a temporal spring. It simply sat in the mud on that rogue world since the 16th Century while the universe moved on around it."

The data core let out a low, pathetic whine, its uneven internal light flickering rapidly as the induction probe forced its archaic, micro-fractured Bus interface to yield its contents. "Bypassing the primary security buffers now," B'ree muttered, her uninflected monotone cutting through the persistent wail of the cargo bay's red alert klaxons. "The memory crystals are highly volatile, but the physical tap is holding. I am routing the raw telemetry through the secondary cargo console to stabilize the feed before the layout completely collapses. If you want to know what this thing was doing before it spent a millennium rotting in a swamp, the sector maps are formatting now."

After a moment, a projection of the vessel's course appeared, showing what appeared to be a regular route between four planets. "Right," Sora remarked. "Transport of some kind it seems. Lieutenant, do we have some sort of cargo manifest?"

Ash peered down, from her position on the overhead gantry, and studied the map projection for a few seconds. "This was a relatively small vessel running a regular route between four worlds. That doesn't fit how cargo ships operate but does fit passenger service and prison circuits for colony or frontier worlds. Given the actions of Xurbam, I'm voting for the latter. There aren't a whole lot of species that measure their lifespan in millennia. It spells big trouble."

B’ree didn't look up from her Tricorder's holodisplay. To an engineer, speculation without hard metrics was just noisy exhaust. She preferred the clean, unarguable logic of a functioning machine, or the cold truth of a dying one. Her fingers tapped anl override sequence into the secondary cargo console, but the ancient architecture was fighting her with every step, clicking and whining like a dying mechanical lung as the induction probe forced its volatile memory crystals to dump their sub-atomic payload. She flicked her thumb across a manual dial, and a massive, flickering wireframe schematic expanded above the salvage pad, casting a pale, sickly green glow across her emerald skin.

"This wasn't a standard freighter or a civilian passenger liner," B’ree reported as she studied the data blocks on the screen. "The structural blueprints show that over eighty percent of the internal volume was dedicated to localized stasis fields." She paused, her brow furrowing slightly as she cross-referenced the manifest's energy signatures with the sensor data Galatea had logged before the ship's internal grid fractured. "The cargo manifest lists only a single entry: Xurbam. The file is heavily encrypted, but the uncorrupted data suggests that this vessel was built as a mobile, deep-space containment cell for the Saltah'na's worst offenders."

She adjusted the probe to try to access the corrupted sectors, "According to the automated flight recorder, this transport pod was intentionally launched into deep space to act as a permanent exile. The system map shows no final destination; the course was an infinite loop designed to keep the pod clear of inhabited systems. The pod had a localized system failure that forced an emergency landing." B'ree finally looked up, her expression entirely unreadable behind her engineering visor as she looked toward Sora and Ash, "The host entity, Xurbam, is a Saltah'na, but the manifest lists that there are fifty distinct, highly volatile psychological profiles contained within his neural matrix. The host isn't an alien traveler, Commanders, he's a walking prison with a broken lock..."

"We are Legion..." Ash muttered, to herself, while she took in the details from B'ree and looked to Sora. "Fifty plus personalities rattling around in Xurbam might be a gift if they're not of one mind and are fighting for control but make determining an end game on their part...difficult." She noted.

Sora shuddered. "Well, that really is a problem. Galatea, relay everything we've learned to the bridge. My recommendation? Engage the target with maximum prejudice. No point apprehending it, we need to destroy it. And as soon as we can." Her hand grasped the hilt of the sword on her belt. "We really shouldn't have gone anywhere near this place."

"Agreed." The Chief Engineer responded, just loud enough to be heard over the klaxon. "I think the creature that was with Xurbam may have been a psychic lock and we made the mistake of separating them. Pure speculation, of course, but it would follow." Ash observed, while she kept her eyes on the two points of egress she was monitoring. "I wonder if he is from a time before, or during, the conflict that destroyed the Saltah'na?" She wondered aloud.

"Information compiled, Commander Bernadotte," Galatea reported, her voice a flawless, calm cadence that ran beneath the wail of the sirens. "The complete logs, telemetry, and the profiles for the fifty Saltah'na entities have been transmitted to Commodore Targaryen on the Bridge."

A swift cascade of sensor diagnostics flickered across her simulated eyes as she synchronized with the ship's primary computer core. "Chief Engineer, regarding your query: while the timeline is consistent with your hypothesis, our knowledge of the Saltah'na is limited due to the outbreak of the Dominion War and the limited exploratory missions completed to the Gamma Quadrant. Their civilization has been extinct for some time." The AI turned her gaze down toward the salvage pad, "Commodore Targaryen has acknowledged receipt of the information. Tractor containment protocols are initializing in the Shuttlebay, and Security Team 4 has been deployed."

The hologram paused, "The interference pattern in this section has lessened. If you would like, I could transport both of you to the Bridge?"

"If you want to go feel free," the Orion answered as she worked the console. "I'm fine here and, who knows, maybe Xurbam's just as susceptible to Orion pheromones as the rest of the galaxy?"

Ash appeared to consider what B'ree proposed and shook her head. "Eight centuries alone...sort of..." Ash mused and looked to Galatea. "Galatea, I'll transport to the bridge at the discretion of Commander Bernadotte but I would like 2 from security to be beamed in to watch over the Lieutenant while she works, please?" She requested and looked back to The Orion. "Too big a maybe with 50 libidos in play." She added.

"I was about to suggest the same thing, actually," Sora replied. "We definitely need security down here if we are leaving. Definitely not going to leave the Lieutenant on her own here, even with the lockdown." She turned to B'ree. "See if you can find anything else that might help us track down and eliminate the threat. Whether that is by containment or destruction. That, right now, is the highest priority."

She turned to Galatea. "Get us that security detail, then we can go."

A sharp, synchronized chime echoed over the Cargo Bay's local comms as the secondary security override engaged. The personnel hatch hissed open and two heavily armed security guards stepped into the room. Their Phaser Rifles were instantly raised, sweeping the upper level before they locked down the high ground to cover the deck below.

Ash stowed her phaser back in its boot holster, hopped over the railing of the upper level and landed, lightly, on the lower level.

Down on the deck, B’ree didn't even blink as the boots of the security team clacked against the metal gantry above her. Her attention remained entirely locked on the holodisplay of her Tricorder. The Orion merely offered a faint, mechanical shrug at Ash's parting remark, her thumb adjusting the physical induction probe deep within the ancient data core. "Fewer libidos, more historical anomalies, Chief," B’ree muttered in her trademark uninflected monotone, her green skin washed in the sickly glow of the terminal. "The data architecture is stabilizing. I am continuing the extraction now."

"Security detail has arrived and is in position," Galatea smoothly announced. "The Cargo Bay is secure. Transporting Commanders Bernadotte and Randall to the Bridge. Energizing."

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