God's Gonna Cut You Down, Part 1

Posted on Sun Jun 7th, 2026 @ 10:46pm by Commodore Wilkan Targaryen & Enterprise Officer NPC & Commander Ash Randall & Commander Zhora zh'Roothi & Lieutenant Commander Kuzos & Lieutenant Commander Sora Bernadotte & Lieutenant Urvasi Elandorn & Lieutenant Amber Laurell & Lieutenant (J.G.) Dylan Blake & Ensign Mirakylin Yumerieva

6,538 words; about a 33 minute read

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

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

The secondary tactical console on the starboard curve of the Bridge was a comfort to Lieutenant Rrawran. While it was smaller than the primary station where Commander Kuzos worked, it allowed the Rorworr to monitor the ship’s internal security grids and perimeter shielding without the political noise filtering through the command well. The air on the Bridge was warm - too warm for his thick, arctic-white fur - and his acute hearing easily picked up the low, rhythmic purr of the Bridge consoles alongside the steady, rhythmic thump-thump of Lieutenant Urvasi’s tail down at the Helm. For the past twenty minutes, the Enterprise had been running parallel to the alien raider's fading ion trail at Warp 6. Everything within his domain was performing at peak tactical readiness while the Commodore remained back in the Ready Room.

Then, the primary security grid on Deck 8 shattered. It didn't happen with an automated chime. It happened with a sudden, violent cascade of crimson warning icons that illuminated Rrawran’s white-furred snout in a blood-red glow. His pointed ears immediately pinned flat against his skull. Deep within his chest, a low, organic growl vibrated, a primal sound of warning that bypassed his translator entirely. His massive, clawed hands flew across the interface, isolating the breach. The Bridge's lights remained steady, but the perimeter emergency indicators instantly engaged, bathing the command deck in a synchronized, pulsing crimson. The automated three-note cadence of the Red Alert began to wail through the comm speakers. Rrawran’s fingers clacked against the glass controls, trying to establish a sensor sweep of the medical sector on Deck 8. The terminal readout began to strobe with error messages.

"Commander," the translator box attached to his chest blurted out, its mechanical voice stark against Rrawran's underlying, guttural snarl. "Primary isolation forcefields in Sickbay have suffered a total catastrophic failure. Biometric signatures for Petty Officer Selou have terminated." He kept typing, reading the information as it scrolled rapidly over the screen. "Sensors can't lock in on the survivor," the translator barked, the mechanical tone rising slightly as Rrawran inputted a secondary diagnostic override.

Kuzos reacted instantly. His violet eyes narrowing at this unexpected news. "Security alert all decks. Security to Sickbay. Be on the lookout for escaped survivor. Lockdown shuttlebay and all transporter rooms." Then he added. "Alert the Commodore." To Rrawran he said, "Reconfigure internal sensors. Get has much detail as you can."

"Acknowledged," Rrawran’s massive, clawed fingers moved with deliberate, heavy precision across the secondary tactical interface as his pointed ears twitched in response to the Vorta’s commands as they cut through the wail of the sirens. He initiated a full sensor reconfiguration, overriding the standard biometric tracking subroutines as the primary internal sensors couldn't lock onto a solid life sign. The screen strobed as lines of green data reflected across the alien's wide, orange eyes before fracturing into jagged static loops.

At the helm, Urvasi, ears also flattened against the noise, kept her attention to the Ion Trail Route. She trusted in her shipmates to resolve the issue. However, just in case, she removed her shoes and touched the left foot ankle against the console pedestal, her right foot ankle against the chair riser. Now she could directly feel vibrations through the bridge to the ship and hoped she might feel is something wrong began approaching the bridge. She said nothing, letting the security issue take primary focus on the bridge.

The air inside Maintenance Conduit 6-Bravo, adjacent to the Main Shuttlebay, smelled of recycled oxygen and warm copper-shielding grease. For Crewman Third Class Taimana Rara, the cramped, hexagonal space of the Jefferies tube was a sanctuary. While the rest of the Enterprise was running at Warp 6 along an alien ion trail, she was perfectly content with a hydro-spanner in her hand, recalibrating the primary atmospheric exhaust valves for the shuttle maintenance docks.

Taimana was a woman of quiet, deliberate movements, a trait her grandfather back in Rotorua had always attributed to her lineage. Raised near the thermal vents of the North Island, she carried the resilience of the tangata whenua, the people of the land, deep in her bones. Her dark skin was slick with sweat under the glare of her work lamp, and her long black hair was tied tightly at the nape of her neck to keep it out of the plasma relays. Whenever the isolation of deep space felt too vast, she would trace the small, greenstone hei tiki pendant resting beneath her uniform, a connection to her ancestors, to the solid Earth, and to the stories of warriors who faced the unknown without flinching.

Then, the world turned red.

The localized emergency klaxon didn't just wail; it vibrated right through the deck plates beneath her knees. A synchronized, three-note cadence shattered the quiet. Over the comms, Galatea’s voice echoed, cold and unyielding: "Warning. Intruder Alert. Security grid breached on Deck 8."

Taimana froze, her fingers tightening around the hydro-spanner. She reached up to tap her communicator, but before her fingers could make contact, the secondary alerts flashed on her diagnostic PADD. The Main Shuttlebay was being placed under automated lockdown.

"Rara to Main Engineering," she muttered, her voice steady despite the rapid pounding in her chest. "I’m in the 6-Bravo junction. Should I clear the tube or," Static cut her off. Not standard electromagnetic interference, but a wet, heavy distortion that sounded like a dozen overlapping voices whispering in a language that didn't sound natural. The temperature inside the tube plummeted. The warm grease smell vanished, replaced by a suffocating stench of decaying organic matter and ozone. Taimana held her breath, her acute senses straining. From the darkness of the conduit intersection twenty meters ahead, she heard it: the rapid, metallic skittering of something heavy scraping against the duranium hull plates.

She clicked her work lamp toward the junction. The light beam hit a shifting, distorted silhouette. The space around the entity seemed to bend and fracture, repelling the light. It wasn't a man; it was a nightmare of hyper-accelerated motion, a blur of fractured bio-signatures shifting under the harsh crimson pulse of the alert lights. Taimana didn't scream. The blood of navigation and survival coursed through her veins. She scrambled backward, dragging her heavy boots across the deck plates, her hand blindly reaching for the emergency hatch release behind her.

Then the shadow lunged.

The phase-variance hit her first, a wall of raw psychic static that jammed her neural pathways and locked her limbs in place. The hei tiki pressed hard against her collarbone as a pair of cold, impossibly strong hands clamped around her throat, choking out her breath. Through the blinding tunnel of her failing vision, she looked into the fractured, ancient terror of the multi-mind's eyes. The hydro-spanner clattered against the metal floor. Taimana's last breath escaped her lips in a silent whisper to the ancestors, a quiet plea into the dark, as the entity dragged her limp form deeper into the unmapped labyrinth of the maintenance tubes, leaving only a ghost trail of static behind.

One of Galatea's many duplicates sat at the Bridge Communications workstation, assisting with coordinating Security Teams and trying to locate the distortion that was Xurbam. As she watched the readouts, her advanced processors noted an abrupt transmission termination. To the AI, a carrier signal wasn't just audio - it was a precise telemetry stream. Crewman Taimana Rara’s communicator experienced an unnatural, instantaneous flatline. It wasn't the gradual degradation of atmospheric interference; it was a violent micro-second spike of multi-mind phase static, followed by total silence.

"Commander Kuzos," Galatea reported, her holographic avatar turning smoothly from the console, her voice flat and unyielding against the wailing Red Alert. "An anomalous communication termination has occurred in Maintenance Conduit 6-Bravo. Crewman Rara's vocal transmission was overridden by a high-density electromagnetic distortion. I am unable to raise her, nor are my sensors detecting her life-signs."

"Are you still tracking the distortion? If so seal off and exits, try to confine the distortion to a specific area. This could well be our escaped patient." Kuzos noted. In addition, send security teams to the area." he addressed the Enterprise's AI, "Galatea, are you able to override or neutralize the distortion? If so do so immediately."

Galatea's hands shifted across the console with speed. "The distortion actively repels our signals, Commander, I cannot lock on; however, I have initiated emergency containment protocols," Galatea continued as a schematic map of the area appeared on the viewscreen with security barriers indicated on the digital map. "Heavy blast doors have been sealed across all exit nodes of Maintenance Conduit 6-Bravo, effectively trapping the anomaly within a three-section radius above the Main Shuttlebay. Security teams have been routed to the perimeter." She paused as a secondary sensor anomaly rippled through the lower bulkhead matrices, "Commander, I have to warn you though, if the asset breaches these manual seals, he will have direct access to shuttle maintenance."

"Noted and thank you Galatea. send a security team to shuttle maintenance," He looked over to Rrawran. "Rrawran take over here, I am headed to shuttle maintenance with a stop at the armory to pick up a pulse rifle." Kuzos spoke as he turned to head to the nearest lift.

"Understood, Commander. The Bridge is secure in your absence," the Rorworr Lieutenant answered as Kuzos stepped into the Turbolift. Rrawran moved with fluid, heavy strides, taking the Captain's Chair. His long, thick white tail brushed against the leather upholstery as he adjusted his towering frame into the seat, his piercing orange eyes immediately locking onto the main viewscreen’s tactical overlay.

"Rrawran, I am detecting a major flaw in our containment parameters," Galatea reported from Communications, her voice completely overriding the low hum of the Bridge. "Ensign Yumerieva has remained on board the Frost River within the locked-down Shuttlebay. Furthermore, my sensor logs confirm that the runabout's atmospheric filters are completely saturated with highly reactive spores. By attempting to service the modules, she has inadvertently exposed herself to a high-density contaminant field."

Rrawran bared his fangs, a low hiss escaping his snout. "Can we execute a site-to-site transport to the Deck 8 quarantine zone?" the translator barked.

"Negative," Galatea replied smoothly, her holographic arms gesturing to the cascading error loops on her console. "The phase-variance generated by Xurbam has expanded across the maintenance network. It is throwing a localized electromagnetic blanket over the docking cradle. If we attempt a transport through that distortion, the pattern will scatter."

The Security Officer turned toward the Operations Console, seeing Lieutenant Blake sitting there. "I want you to get to immediate work trying to penetrate that field and beam the Ensign to Decon, Lieutenant."

It was strange taking orders from his roommate but this wasn't the time or place to allow that particular notion to linger Lieutenant JG Dylan Blake realised. Especially not with Mira's life in balance: "Yes, sir." Blake replied obediently and set to work trying to find a workaround.

The Tactical console's sensor reports flared red, lines of mechanical telemetry flashing as the ship's lower bulkhead matrices registered an impact. "The target penetrated the blast doors," Ensign Talyn confirmed. "The distortion field just dropped directly into the shuttle maintenance docks. His trajectory intersects precisely with the Frost River's cradle."

"Security Teams 3 and 4, redirect from the perimeter," the Rorworr's translator bellowed, layered over a fierce, organic roar that echoed off the Bridge bulkheads. "The intruder is entering the Shuttlebay!"

Petty Officer Zeeke Xurji adjusted the strap of her Phaser Rifle, her dark Bajoran eyes scanning the dim, metallic corridor. The harsh red glow of the alert lights pulsed against her skin, casting rhythmic shadows along the bulkheads. Beside her, Crewman Saar moved with the cautious, quiet grace typical of a Suliban. His hairless, mottled yellow skin looked stark under the crimson emergency beacons as he kept his rifle raised, scanning the shadows. To the rest of the crew, they were merely Security Team 3, tracking a dangerous ghost through the Jefferies Tubes. But as they rounded the corner into the access corridor leading to the shuttle maintenance docks, Saar’s fingers brushed against hers - a brief, burning touch that recalled the quiet heat of their hidden sanctuary in Cargo Bay 4. Their secret trysts were a dangerous gamble under Starfleet regulations, but in the cold vacuum of the Gamma Quadrant, that stolen intimacy was the only thing that made the Enterprise feel like home.

"Galatea said he’s pushing through the manual overrides," Xurji whispered, her voice a tight, authoritative rasp that masked her racing pulse. She checked her Tricorder, but the display was a useless cascade of static loops. "We need to set a crossfire at the primary hatch."

Saar offered a faint, reassuring nod, his large eyes dilating as he adjusted to the low light. "We'll box him in, Xurji. Just stay close."

They reached the threshold of the maintenance dock, rifles raised. The air suddenly turned ice-cold. The familiar scent of copper-grease vanished, instantly replaced by a suffocating, wet stench of ozone and decay. Xurji’s Bajoran earring jingled softly against her neck as a sudden, heavy pressure dropped over the corridor.

Then, Rrawran’s roaring command bellowed over their comms: "Security Teams 3 and 4... Authorize lethal force, he is hunting our crew."

The warning came a second too late.

The phase-variance didn't just disrupt their sensors; it hit them like a physical shockwave. The space directly above the airlock hatch fractured. Xurbam dropped from the overhead ceiling conduit without a sound, a blur of shifting, hyper-accelerated mass.

Saar brought his weapon up to fire, but the entity moved with terrifying, unnatural speed. A cold, impossibly powerful hand clamped onto Saar’s throat, snapping his neck before the Suliban could even pull the trigger. His mottled skin went slack as he collapsed onto the deck plates.

"Saar!" Xurji screamed. Grief and rage surged through her as she leveled her rifle, but the psychic static of the multi-mind slammed into her brain, freezing her muscles instantly. She looked into Xurbam's fractured, ancient eyes as his freezing fingers wrapped around her neck, crushing her windpipe. Her rifle slipped from her paralyzed grip and clattered against the metal deck beside Saar's limp hand. Before the final darkness claimed her eyes, Xurji saw a pale, shifting hand snatch the weapon from the floor. As the entity claimed the rifle, Xurji’s fading thought wasn't of the Prophets, but of the quiet, stolen warmth of the cargo bay they would never see again.

The starboard door to the Bridge slid open, and Commodore Wilkan Targaryen stepped through before the panels had even fully retracted. Datapad in hand, the Enterprise's Commanding Officer moved with sharp, aggressive strides directly into the command well.

"What the hell is going on?" Wilkan demanded, his dark eyes locking onto Rrawran in the center seat.

"Commodore," Rrawran rose immediately from the command chair, his towering, white-furred frame straightening as his translator box emitted a sharp, efficient bark, "Xurbam escaped Sickbay and broke through our containment measures. He's utilizing a severe phase-variance that actively blinds our sensors..."

Before the Rorworr could finish, Ensign Talyn looked up from the Tactical console, her brow ridges tightening, "Commodore! Security Team Three’s biometric indicators just flatlined. We've lost all contact with Xurji and Saar."

Rrawran bared his fangs, "He's slaughtered another detail? Sir, we need to assume that the creature is trying to escape the ship through Shuttlebay 1. It's mostly evacuated, but Ensign Yumerieva is trapped inside the Frost River, exposed to hyper-reactive spores. Commander Kuzos is intercepting."

Wilkan took it all in, processing the rapid cascade of carnage on the lower decks while suppressing his own growing horror. How did a patient at the point of death become such a lethal combatant so quickly? Sickbay would have some explaining to do later—if they survived this. Stepping past Rrawran to take the center chair, Wilkan immediately began punching commands into the armrest interface.

"We need to get that Ensign off the runabout and get backup to Commander Kuzos," He leaned forward, his dark eyes locked onto the chaotic tactical telemetry flashing across the main viewscreen. "Deploy every available security detail to the Shuttlebay to reinforce Kuzos, and get me a direct channel to the Frost River now."

Galatea interrupted, "I have already transmitted an emergency evacuation order directly to the Frost River. Ensign Yumerieva was notified of the localized spore contamination and Xurbam’s incoming trajectory; however, the asset's phase-variance is now completely blanketing the docking cradle. I cannot confirm if she successfully initiated egress before the signal degraded."

Rrawran growled, "Lieutenant Blake is working on an emergency transport, Sir."

Wilkan looked at Blake at Ops, "Lieutenant, report?"

Blake shook his head with an irksome jerk and a clenched fist rapped the console with frustration. "There are multiple layers of interference, each becoming more intense as Xurbam nears the shuttlebay. I can't find a way through, maybe if I had more time..."

The hiss of the armory doors parting offered a momentary break from the unrelenting wail of the Red Alert. Petty Officer Mr’uaw stepped out into the crimson-bathed corridor, his orange tabby fur bristling as his long tail lashed with tightly coiled tension. In his massive, clawed hands, the Caitian gripped Phaser Rifle, his feline ears twitching as they separated the low thrum of the ship's emergency systems from the distant echo of running boots. Behind him, the remaining members of Security Team 4 filed into formation: Petty Officer Gunalei, a tall, coolly composed Rigelian male checking the power cell on his weapon; Crewman Nishiyama Rokuko, a human woman of Japanese descent whose dark eyes remained fixed down the hall; and Crewman Vulrir Tonnaxit, a Zakdorn female whose strategic mind was already calculating the most efficient tactical approach to the sector.

"Form up," Mr’uaw growled, his deep voice carrying an organic rasp that the universal translator struggled to entirely smooth out. "Commander Kuzos is tracking the anomaly toward the shuttle maintenance docks. We reinforce him before the asset makes a play for the flight deck."

"Tricorder scans are useless down here," Gunalei reported, his even Rigelian cadence unbothered by the chaos as he tapped the unresponsive device. "The phase static is bleeding right through the deck plates. I can't get a reading past ten meters."

"The terrain layout gives us three primary choke points before the bay," Taimana's disappearance had put everyone on edge, but Tonnaxit analyzed the tactical disadvantage with typical Zakdorn precision. "Without sensors, we must assume an ambush at each one."

"Then we rely on our eyes and our training," Mr’uaw barked, baring his fangs as Nishiyama quietly nodded, her hand tightening around her rifle grip. "Stay sharp. Rrawran said this thing is actively hunting the crew."

They moved with practiced, military precision, boots clacking heavily against the duranium floor. Just as they reached the primary Turbolift alcove, the doors whirred open, revealing the stern, violet-eyed figure of Commander Kuzos stepping into the red glare, a Phaser Rifle already raised to his shoulder.

"Commander," Mr’uaw hissed, dipping his head as Team 4 locked into defensive positions around the Vorta. "Security Team 4 reporting. Lead the way."

Kuzos trademark smile was nowhere to be seen. His violet eyes locked on Mr'uaw and the rest of the security detail. "Petty officer." He acknowledged. Then continued, "You and you team know your jobs. All I will say is do not hesitate. Do not think just let your training take over. But first..." he tapped his combadge, "Kuzos to First. I request you and the rest of the Jem'Hadar meet me outside Shuttlebay one." He looked to Mr'uaw, "Calling in a wild card."

"The wild card is already positioned, Administrator," a harsh, gravelly voice echoed from the shadowed recess of the corridor intersection just past the Turbolift. First Ikidik'tan stepped forward into the pulsing crimson wash of the Red Alert as his shroud dropped. His grey, reptilian hide looked completely blood-dyed under the emergency beacons, the tubes supplying Ketracel-white to his neck pulsing with a steady, clinical rhythm. As a Jem'Hadar soldier assigned by the Dominion to monitor the Vorta's deployment on the Enterprise, he rarely felt the need to utilize the ship's comm network when straightforward military logic dictated a pre-emptive deployment.

He didn't share the frantic anxiety radiating from the Alpha Quadrant crewmen, nor did he offer a salute. His stoic, deep-set eyes merely cataloged Security Team 4 with cold, objective calculation. "My soldiers are already securing the secondary access corridors to Shuttlebay 1," Ikidik'tan stated, his tone devoid of inflection, a stark contrast to the emotional noise bleeding through the deck plates. "Relying on Starfleet's compromised sensor grid is a tactical error. The asset's phase-variance is localized, but its physical impact leaves actionable metrics. It has broken manual seals. It has terminated multiple biological assets. The parameters of the threat are defined."

"First," Mr’uaw growled low in his chest, his tabby-furred ears twitching back as his feline instinct warred with the suffocating presence of the Jem'Hadar. "Glad you could make the party."

Ikidik'tan ignored the Caitian entirely, his gaze locked strictly on Kuzos, "The entity moves with hyper-accelerated momentum, Commander. Your Starfleet personnel are trained for apprehension and containment. That protocol is no longer mathematically viable against an active contagion. I suggest they bypass standard stun settings, the target must be neutralized before the flight deck is breached."

Kuzos nodded, "Thank you for your tactical assessment of the situation First and I agree in your recommendation that standard stun settings be bypassed." Kuzos looked to Mr'uaw. "Petty officer you and your team will adjust your settings to maximum." To First he asked, "if your cloak is active can the contagion detect you and your squad?"

"Uncertain," Ikidik'tan replied, his heavy, reptilian brow furrowing slightly as he evaluated the question with cold, analytical objectivity. "The shroud manipulates the light spectrum and dampens local thermal output; however, the target does not rely on conventional optics. If it tracks its prey through psychic resonance or the phase-variance currently blinding our technology, our concealment may offer zero tactical advantage." He adjusted his grip on his Dominion rifle, his stoic gaze shifting for a brief second to Security Team 4, "We must assume it can see us, operating under the false security of a shroud invites a fatal tactical error."

Mr’uaw’s clawed fingers clicked against the interface of his phaser rifle, shifting the power cells with a heavy, deliberate snap. "You heard the Commander. Dial them up to maximum lethal," the Caitian growled, his tail lashing behind him as he checked the weapons of his squad. Beside him, Vulrir Tonnaxit adjusted her rifle's emitter with practiced, Zakdorn precision, her eyes narrowed as she ran the new variables through her tactical algorithms. Petty Officer Gunalei and Crewman Nishiyama followed suit without a word, the high-pitched whine of their reconfiguring power matrices cutting through the wail of the sirens.

"Settings confirmed, Commander," Mr’uaw reported, his ears pinning flat against his tabby fur. "Team 4 is locked, loaded, and ready to drop this thing."

Ikidik'tan watched the Starfleet personnel complete the task, his expression unreadable. Genetic memory told him to trust only the White and the words of the Founders, yet the chaotic resolve of these Alpha Quadrant species was a metric he was still trying to fully calculate. "The entry vectors to the shuttle maintenance docks are narrow," the Jem'Hadar First stated, turning his attention back to Kuzos. "My squad will take the vanguard to absorb the initial momentum of the asset's acceleration. Let your security team secure our flanks and cover the high ground on the catwalks. We move now."

Kuzos turned to Mr'uaw, "Petty Officer your team will take position on the flanks while First and his team the point in engaging the asset. It is our job to lend all the assistance we can in containing the asset and keeping occupied." He paused for a moment and then added, "Trust yourself and your ability. Trust your teammates, trust me and trust First and his team." he tapped his combadge, "Proceed when you are ready First, we will move on your word."

The Jem'Hadar nodded and proceeded down the corridor.

Fifth Gage’lez did not fear death; he feared inefficiency. As a Jem’Hadar bred for the frontline, his purpose was reduced to a simple equation of tactical utility. Stationed inside the elevated Shuttlebay Control Room, his shroud was down, and his rifle raised. Behind him, three Starfleet flight technicians were frantically typing at their consoles, their frantic, high-pitched breathing an annoying, emotional distraction to his objective monitoring. First Ikidik'tan had ordered the secondary access vectors secured, and this command hub overlooked the entire flight deck, so he would do everything in his power to ensure that this room did not fall to the enemy.

He didn't have to wait long. The primary duranium door didn't slide open; it was violently buckled inward with a screeching groan of tearing metal. Gage’lez didn't hesitate, he fired. A heavy compression burst from his rifle illuminated the entering blur that was Xurbam. The target overrode the threshold with terrifying, multi-limbed momentum, its flesh pulsing with a hostile crimson glare. In its grip was the Phaser Rifle it had snatched from Petty Officer Xurji's dying hands. While the technicians screamed and scrambled backward toward the rear escape hatch, Gage’lez stepped into the threat.

The alien lunged, its multi-jointed arms snapping forward with bone-crushing velocity, but Gage’lez had calculated the vector. He sidestepped the primary thrust, parried the stolen rifle barrel with his own weapon, and drove his combat blade straight into the creature's charcoal-grey shoulder. Blue-violet fluid sprayed across his gauntlet. For a split second, the violent frenzy of the entity fractured. The hostile crimson glare along Xurbam’s temples flickered, snapping back to a desperate, weeping cerulean. The alien's jaw worked convulsively as the original, peaceful host body fought its way to the surface of the multi-mind.

"Please... stop..." Xurbam’s true voice gasped out, a fragile, telepathic sob that echoed directly into Gage’lez’s mind. "Too many voices... I can't hold them... run—!" The plea was violently choked out. A jagged surge of hostile crimson light flared back to life, and the warring, ancient personalities reasserted their brutal control. The multiple minds raging within the host body ignored the combat knife entirely.

Before Gage’lez could re-engage, a sickening wave of raw, telepathic kinetic force erupted from Xurbam’s glowing temples. It hit the Jem’Hadar like a physical bulkhead, short-circuiting his genetically engineered nervous system. His grip on his weapon slackened, his knees hitting the deck. Through the haze of failing motor control, Gage'lez saw Xurbam’s free hand clamp over the Ketracel-white tube at his neck, ripping it free in a single, violent jerk. The abrupt severing of his life-fluid sent the Fifth crashing heavily to the floor.

As the cold dark claimed him, Gage’lez’s fading vision recorded the final, brutal metrics of the encounter. Two of the humans managed to dive through the closing seals of the emergency hatch, but the third - a young, spots-mapped Trill technician - was a half-second too slow. With terrifying, fluid grace, Xurbam spun and caught the escaping Trill by the collar of his engineering vest, dragging him backward into the crimson glare of the terminal room just as the heavy blast doors locked shut. A final, cut-off shriek echoed into the comms.

Gage’lez’s final thought was entirely objective: he had delayed the target for exactly seven point three seconds. His duty was done.

Wilkan considered the options, his expression hardening. He looked at the Helm next to Ops, "Urvasi, execute an emergency drop to Impulse." Wilkan ordered, his voice echoing authoritatively. "If we can't beam the Ensign out, we need to ensure she has every opportunity of surviving this. We can't risk Xurbam breaking into that cockpit and attempting to launch while we're at Warp 6. It'll rip the Frost River to shreds and kill everyone in that Shuttlebay."

Urvasi began slowing the ship as fast as she could as she called out, "Aye Sir, Executing Now." The ship, having slowed to Warp 4, slewed its warp bubble to appear in regular space with a Shudder and jar, but remained intact. "Ship at 1/2 impulse, sir."

The sudden, violent lurch from warp to impulse had left a residual vibration in the deck plates of the Bridge, a mechanical shudder that perfectly matched the tension gripping the command well. The viewscreen no longer displayed the dark, swirling atmospheric soup of the rogue planet; instead, the deep void of interstellar space stretched out before them as the ship rapidly opened the distance from the system, illuminated only by the rhythmic crimson flash of the Red Alert.

Commodore Wilkan Targaryen stood at the center of the Bridge, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. His sharp eyes tracked the tactical overlays flashing across the main viewer, his expression carved from stone despite the grim data flooding the consoles. "Maintain our current heading and maximize our distance from that world," Wilkan commanded, his voice a calm, authoritative anchor cutting through the wail of the sirens.

At the helm, Urvasi was putting her shoes back on with TK and foot movements. With the intruder having moved to the Shuttle Bay and not towards the bridge, She no longer had to feel for the Intruder approaching through her vibration senses. She heard the Commodore and replied, "Aye Aye Sir, increasing to Full Impulse."

He turned his gaze toward the Operations station, knowing Lieutenant Blake was still busy with the Transporter, "Lieutenant, divert all non-essential auxiliary power to the sensors to see if that can help you penetrate the field. Get all noncoms out of there as soon as possible."

Dylan nodded but didn't turn to acknowledge the order as his attention was focused: "Diverting power, evacuating the area."

He turned toward the tactical station, where the massive Rorworr Security Officer was tracking the unfolding chaos below. "Lieutenant Rrawran, report on the status."

Rrawran’s chest rumbled with a low, menacing growl as he tapped his Tactical console, his claws clicking against the interface. "The localized dampening field is still suppressing all sensor telemetry from the area, but I have an audio channel established. The escaping techs are on the line now." Rrawran patched the frantic, live audio feed through to the Captain's Chair, "They're safe, but they report that one crew member remains trapped inside the terminal with the target." Rrawran continued as he worked, "Putting the hardwired video feed on the screen now."

On the viewer, a harsh, static-laced visual flickered into view. The internal security feed of the Shuttlebay Control Room showed a scene of absolute chaos: the metal primary doors were buckled completely inward, splattered with blue-violet fluid. In the center of the terminal, Xurbam's multi-limbed form was illuminated by the flashing red lights, its hand clamped tightly onto the engineering vest of a young, spot-mapped Trill technician who was struggling fruitlessly to reach the locked emergency hatch. Before anyone on the Bridge could draw breath, Xurbam's multi-jointed arm snapped forward with sickening velocity. The entity's fingers dug directly into the young man's chest plates. With a single, fluid twist of impossible physical strength, Xurbam threw the technician away from the glass and hard against the primary console. The console shattered under the impact, raining sparks across the deck as the Trill’s body went completely limp.

"Target has neutralized the remaining technician," Rrawran rasped, his claws sinking deep into the edges of his tactical console as his canine eyes locked onto the screen.

"I can see that," Wilkan stood in horror at what he saw. In less than half an hour that bastard creature had killed no less than seven people. Seven. It haunted him already. What was meant to be a mission of peace was turning into a bloodbath and the Commodore wouldn't stand for it. His crew deserved better than to be massacred by some demonic creature.

On screen, Xurbam didn't pause to admire the kill. The entity immediately turned its vacant, burning violet eyes toward the main control terminal, its blood-slicked fingers flying across the interface with terrifying, unnatural familiarity.

Wilkan’s jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white where he held his hands behind his back. The absolute ruthlessness of the asset left no room for hesitation or diplomatic restraint. The contagion had just claimed another soul, and it was running out of obstacles.

"He's overriding the docking clamps," Rrawran reported, the low rumble in his chest vibrating with tightly coiled rage. "The Frost River’s launch sequence has been initiated. He’s taking the runabout."

The Enterprise's Commander approached his chair in the center of the Bridge. Looking at it a moment, he considered the options. There had been enough killing, enough death, enough destruction for one day. "Let the bastard go."

“No! You can’t!!” Amber shook her head as she rushed onto the bridge with Commander zh'Roothi at her heels. “You have to stop him! If he gets free he’ll spread a plague everywhere he goes!!”

Watching the Enterprise's Counselor enter, the Commodore bellowed, "Explain."

Amber took a seat still feeling weak from her connection. “I connected with Xurbam’s companion A’shura, their relationship was more than just boy and companion A’shura is a genetically engineered living seal, made to contain the contagion in Xurbam’s blood. A’shura couldn’t contain him any longer, everyone Xurbam kills becomes part of the collective of minds that make up his form, they make him stronger! If he escapes this ship no one will ever stop him!!”

"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."

Wilkan closed his eyes for a single, heavy second, the crushing weight of command pressing down on his shoulders as the pieces of this horrific puzzle finally slammed into place. Seven dead crewmen on his ship. An ancient, sentient contagion running rampant through his decks and now confirmation from Cargo Bay 1 that they were dealing with a threat that had been festering for nearly a millennium. When his eyes snapped open, the hesitation was entirely gone, replaced by the cold, iron resolve of a Starfleet Commodore who knew exactly what had to be done.

"Acknowledged, Commander Bernadotte," Wilkan answered, his voice carrying an unyielding authority across the Bridge. "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."

He turned his gaze sharply away from the viewscreen, looking down at Amber as she sat weakened in her chair. The anger that had flashed in his eyes a moment prior dissolved into a grim, dark realization. If the A'shura was a cage, and that cage had shattered, then Xurbam was no longer a refugee or a patient. He was a weapon of mass extinction.

The XO gave Amber's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she stood close by.

"Rrawran," Wilkan commanded, stepping around the command well, his boots hitting the deck plates with definitive force. "Belay my last order. The Frost River does not leave that bay. Evacuate all personnel from the surrounding maintenance decks immediately. If the automated security grids can't hold him, we lock down the entire section."

He looked back up at the main viewer, watching the static-laced feed of the runabout's launch sequence ticking down. His jaw set into a hard, merciless line. "Target the Frost River's Warp Core the second those doors override," Wilkan ordered, his knuckles whitening as his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "If he clears the bay, you stop him by any means necessary. Understood?"

Rrawran bared his fangs, a savage, predatory growl vibrating the deck plates as his claws prepared the Phasers and torpedoes, "He will not breach the sky."

"Get me any sensor feeds that you can," the Enterprise's Commander directed, "I want to know exactly what's going on as the Security Team tries to apprehend that monster."

“He’s still in there, Xurbam is buried amongst who knows how many voices in that creatures mind.” Amber added from where she sat. “A’shura isn’t strong enough to contain him alone, if only there was a way we could help A’Shura regain control.”

"The logical option is to destroy the life-form, Counselor," Wilkan answered, his voice cutting through the Bridge like cold steel. He turned a sharp, commanding gaze to the Tactical station. "Good thing I was never all that logical. Lieutenant, put a Tractor Beam on the Frost River the microsecond those docking clamps release. Pin it inside the bay. If he can't launch, he can't escape."

"And if he attempts to go to Warp inside the hangar?" Rrawran rumbled, his claws hovering over the controls.

"Then the tractor will buckle his Warp Nacelles before his field can form," Wilkan countered flawlessly. "We contain the blast inside the magnetic atmospheric shields, that'll be Dylan and Urvasi's job."

Urvasi's brow furrowed in thought as she tried to understand how she was responsible for the Magnetic Atmospheric Shields. Then again, she did have controls and links to the shuttle bay... she checked the controls, then realized her linkage allowed for override of Shuttle Bay Control Deck Controls, making her perfectly suited to do so when Dylan let her know the how much. Her tail flicked as she answered, "Shuttle Bay Atmospheric Shielding overides at the ready from input of factor needed from Lt. Blake."

"Sending them now," Dylan replied tightly, his entire body stiff with tension now the harrowing truth behind Xurbam was beginning to take shape - the prospect of him, or thing, whatever Xurbam was now getting loose frighten him.

He tapped his armrest comms, his tone carrying the full weight of a Starfleet Commodore. "Targaryen to Security Team 4. Kuzos, the asset is a living collective of violent entities, and he's actively absorbing the neural patterns of our fallen. Phasers will only feed him." Wilkan's jaw tightened into a hard, unforgiving line as he watched the countdown on the main viewer. "Do not attempt apprehension. Set all rifles to maximum wide-beam disruption and flood the under-bay conduits. If we can't separate the host from the contagion, we drop the hammer and paralyze the entire network."

Amber had nodded at Wilkan’s response there was little choice in the matter A’shura had said to destroy in order to save the rest of the universe, and given those already lost she’d no doubt have her calendar pretty full for a while to come.

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