Folsom Prison Blues

Posted on Wed Jun 24th, 2026 @ 1:54am by Commodore Wilkan Targaryen & Enterprise Officer NPC & Lieutenant Commander Kuzos & Lieutenant Commander Aidan Datari & Lieutenant Rio Kholin MD & Lieutenant Amber Laurell & Ensign Sayori Nakai & Ensign Mirakylin Yumerieva

8,684 words; about a 43 minute read

Mission: 9. Oubliette
Location: Sickbay, U.S.S. Enterprise
Timeline: 2439-10-09, 14:00

In Sickbay, a lone figure appeared. She was in a kneeling position, an active life support belt field seen around her, while showing definite signs of exertion and shock in how her body was shaking in a rhythmic pattern. As for Mira herself, her eyes were still closed as she listened to her comm badge while trying to rouse herself from her kneeling position to start making her way to sickbay. She only had about 11 minutes left. Her voice was heard in medical, "Common, Mira.. get up, get UP, GET UP! You need Medical Quarantine... go, go Go Go GO GO!" She stood up, slapped at a control panel that wasn't there, and almost fell over. She opened her eyes while glancing about, frustration and adrenaline showing in her gaze. She stopped, noticing where she was, and then yelled, "Quarantine, please, Quarantine... Contaminated... I am contaminated.. Quarantine.. Please.. * sob *"

Immediately leaving the scans of Xurban she had been poring over, Rio rushed towards Mira, stopping just short of the end of the quarantine bays. "Over here Mira. Quick if you can?" the CMO hastened the exhausted looking patient towards the now empty contamination cells that had recently held the previous contaminated patients. Looking around, Rio could see the door was ajar to Room two so she called across the area to Mira. "The one on the right, the door is unlocked and a little ajar! Can you see it?" she asked the staggering Ensign who she recognized as Mira.

Upon hearing Rio's voice, Mira looked around and saw her. She glanced at her time, 10:42 and counting down, plenty. She replied, "Coming Doctor Kholin..." She moved, or thought she did, and realized she hadn't. Now that the always rushing, quick thinking, and danger were past, and this on top of being out in the Runabout for weeks doing nebula sensor readings, her body was exhausted. She took in a breath, let it out, and began walking. It wasn't fast, but she was moving.

Every part of Rio ached to rush further in and help Mira over the last few yards. She kept encouraging her, WILLING her the last few steps she had to make but seemed to be too weak to get there.

Mira shambled over to Quarantine Room Two, opened the door further, then climbed inside. She turned to wait for Rio to shut the door and let her know when it showed seal achieved. She held a hand over the off switch on her life support belt and stated, "Let me know when, Dr. Rio...." she sagged a bit more as she added to herself, "and, once more, shower has to wait."

"Don't turn it off just yet" Rio suggested "Let's see how well you get on. The previous contaminated patients had some trouble with their breathing so the life support belt may still be needed initially." She went to the controls on Decon Cell #1 to lock off the door on #2 so as not to step in the footfalls of Mira, just in case the whole bay might need a quick scour over. Setting up #2 to decontaminate Mira, Rio was alert to watch to see if there was any repeat of the bloom that Aidan and Steph had faced.

A thought crossed Mira's mind. UV... no UV. Mira called out, "Doctor Kholin, no UV.. turn off the UV light. It causes the spores to grow." She took in a deep breath, let's it out, then she adds, "I removed the UltraViolet from the runabout cabin filters and the spores quit growing in the filters. * glancing * Nine minutes left on this power cell. Oh, umm, before doing decon, let me get out of my clothes... they are probably spore laden." Steeling herself, Let me know when to turn off my belt."

Rio gave a thumbs up to signal that she had heard and was complying. Within moments the lights were modified to sodium vapour lights to eliminate the usual output of Ultra-Violet. "That should help." she commented even though it was doubtful that Mira could hear her properly.

Looking at Rio, Mira turned off the life support belt. She then stripped out of her clothes, crouched, did an unconscious lift and smell with her nose, said in a low voice, "Whew, I stink", and then and laid them out across the floor. Mira stood up from her crouch and said, "Ready." Without realizing it, because of her negative vacuum in the runabout, the explosive release of atmosphere in the airlock when she changed out power cells, and with her uniform sweat soaked holding onto what little spores remained, she herself was mostly spore free.

The decon procedure began, minus UV. However, the reactions of the spores to some of the chemical agents could be readily seen on the uniform. Mira gawked, then thinking quickly, threw her life support belt over the clothing and activated it, preventing further growth. She looked out at Rio and said, "Umm, I think the contamination likes the Enterprises decon chemicals.... maybe turn it off?" Mira looked at the clothes in the life support belt field, thinking, then she took her com badge to toss onto the life support belt field. Before she activated it, she asked, "Doc, umm, where would you like this mess beamed to? Lab, incinerator, disintegrator... other?"

"Incinerator." Rio responded decisively. "We have plenty of these evil spores in the lab already so we're fully supplied for any tests or investigations with them. This lot are unwanted and toxic." she told Mira. "If you can get enough of those out using your belt in that way, we can still run the 'decon' process which you will need, we just have to double filter all the air and the chemicals, inwards and out again." the CMO adjusted the program and set it all back into action as soon as Mira was ready. The sterilised towels and clothing waiting at the far end for Mira once she had been through the sonic shower at the last section, were all in place and with it all running effectively, it was safe for Mira to be eventually released into the quarantine ward for more care and healing.

Mira did as she was told. =/\= Transporter Room, Ensign Yumerieva, Please lock onto my comm badge and transport items to the Incinerator Room for immediate Disposal. There are 9 minutes left on life support belt, so contaminated clothing safe to handle by crew. Incinerate when force field turns red as that is 2 seconds left. Thank you.=/\= She watched as the life support belt dematerialized in front of her. She stood up, stretched, shook herself, then looked out of the view port to find Rio.

Rio drew in a deep breath, realising as she did, that she hadn't done that in some time with all the pressure, chaos and mayhem that the alien was causing on board.

Mira then held a thumbs up to Rio. "Ready Doc."

Rio set the decontamination process back into action again. It was a total life-saver to say the least, many, many lives over the missions. As it required the subject(s) to be rid of their decontaminated clothes by obvious necessity, the system was programmed to add a slight obliqueness for privacy without completely blacking out the supervisory port hole in case of any problems and so the doctor initiating the process could be careful to keep an eye on the subject and their physical reactions as well as the internal and medical scans that the internal medi-cams were monitoring.

Mira held out her arms as well as took a wide stance with her legs. The purification process was always an interesting experience when she was in her birthday suit. It caused her ears to tingle, nose to itch, and then the intimate parts to get some minor paining sensations. She saw from the tell tale lights that Rio was doing a second set, and so she remained where she was. After the green came up, she waved to Rio, then stepped into the intermediate chamber for the sonic shower, then stepped out into the actual Quarantine living zone to finish drying herself and put on the scrub pants and top. She sighed heavily as she stretched across the cot, and then was out, her body needing a surcease from being always at the ready for an emergency or in an actual emergency.

"Once Mira had completed the whole cycle and was at the Recovery Section, resting (fast-asleep - the best healer for all kinds of overyone!) Rio smiled with relief and turned back to the other matters at hand, safe in the knowledge that at least one of her returning charges had found a healing moment.

The harsh, clinical glare of the emergency lights in Sickbay did nothing to soften the stark lines of the surgical bed. With a slow, deliberate movement, the heavy fabric of a gray Starfleet blanket was drawn upward, sliding over the delicate, iridescent facial markings of the young Elasian nurse before covering her entirely. Sawbones stepped back, his hands dropping heavily to his sides as the terminal flatline tone finally fell into a dull, respectful silence. Petty Officer Colmo Selou had fought hard, but the massive internal hemorrhaging had simply been too severe. Another casualty added to the roster. Another mind absorbed into the growing nightmare currently tearing through the sector at warp speed.

"Time of death, fourteen-oh-three hours," Sawbones muttered, his gravelly voice tight with a mixture of exhaustion and suppressed fury. He turned his focus toward the adjacent containment field where more injured were being monitored, their vitals slowly stabilizing under the steady hum of the medical grid. Yet, the air in the ward remained thick with the residual psychic shockwaves of the encounter.

The pneumatic hiss of the doors cut through the low hum of the medical equipment. Sawbones turned his head sharply as Commodore Wilkan Targaryen stepped onto the floor, his expression a grim, unyielding mask that perfectly mirrored the heavy atmosphere of the room.

Wilkan’s gaze flicked briefly toward the covered form of the young nurse on the biobed, his jaw tightening into a hard line before he looked directly at the doctor. The trepidation that had followed him down from the Bridge was gone, replaced entirely by a cold, sharp determination to end this threat before the blood toll climbed any higher. "Report, Doctor," Wilkan said flatly, his voice an anchor of command cutting through the sterile quiet of the room. "Tell me we have something we can weaponize against this thing."

Sawbones grabbed a diagnostic medical tricorder, slamming the casing shut with an aggressive, metallic snap that echoed off the duranium bulkheads. He didn't look at the Commodore. He couldn't. Not with Selou's body still warm under the shroud.

"Weaponize? Dammit, Wil, I'm a doctor, not a gunsmith!" Sawbones barked, his voice dropping into a harsh, defensive growl as he walked past the center console. He wiped a hand across his face, his knuckles trembling slightly from simulated exhaustion. "What I've got is a morgue that's entirely too crowded and a triage ward full of people whose brains have been run through a meat grinder." He gestured vaguely toward the isolation ward with a thumb, his jaw tight. "Kholin’s back from the Decontamination Chamber. Go bother her for your weapon but whatever that freak of nature did down there, it didn't just break bones - it broke their spirits."

Sawbones stepped up to Wilkan, his sharp eyes boring into the Commodore’s stoic expression, his bluntness masking the raw ache of defeat, "But I'll give you some free advice there kiddo, this 'collective' isn't just killing our people: it's stealing their souls! If you're going to hunt this thing down, you'd better do it with a Phaser that's set to heavy disruption, because from where I'm standing, there isn't enough medicine in the Milky Way to cure whatever the Hell we just let escape."

"Computer," Wilkan didn't flinch under the glare of Sawbones, his face remaining an unreadable mask of command, though a cold, sharp focus settled into his gaze. "Deactivate the Emergency Medical Hologram."

With a soft, instantaneous chime from the ship’s audio processors, the flickering, defensive form of Sawbones vanished, the medical tricorder he had been clutching clattering harmlessly onto the metal tray beneath it.

The sudden silence in the primary triage ward was heavy, broken only by the steady, rhythmic pings of the bio-monitors. Wilkan didn't look at the empty space where the EMH had just been standing. He turned his eyes back to the surgical table, staring for a long, silent beat at the gray Starfleet blanket covering Petty Officer Selou. The doctor’s words, however frantic, carried a brutal truth: they weren't fighting an animal anymore, they were fighting their own.

Slowly, Wilkan tore his gaze away from the shroud and turned toward the Enterprise's Counselor. "We need to find Doctor Kholin."

Still perched next to the resting counselor, Sherlock hissed at the commanding officer, clearly disagreeing with the idea of the counselor having to get up. The little dragon seemed very protective of the woman for an unapparent reason. He turned his head, his eyes changing from the white of danger to a worried amber purple mix and crooned at her, shifting to nuzzle her cheek. He wanted nothing more than return to his stricken master but knew that he couldn't, not yet.

Amber nodded raising her hand to offer a gentle touch to Sherlock, she didn’t know why the little dragon was so protective of her but she appreciated it. “Thank you Sherlock, I appreciate your concern.” She turned to Wilkan. “Sir, I’m not sure that Doctor Kholin will be able to do anything to stop Xurbam. It’s not just him anymore, it’s a creature made up of who knows how many souls. The more souls, the stronger it becomes. At least that’s what I understand of it from A’shura. The one you need to ask is A’shura.”

"I hear you, Counselor," Wilkan answered, his tone softening with a rare flash of quiet empathy before hardening back into command resolve, "and I intend to." He caught the subtle strain in her posture, the silent weight of the telepathic burden she was carrying. He respected her caution, but Doctor Kholin had been on the front lines of treating the asset before the outbreak. Clinical data was still tactical data. "But, first, Doctor Kholin oversaw Xurbam's initial intake and baseline medical scans. Any cellular or neurological anomalies she mapped before everything went sideways could be the exact piece of the puzzle we're missing."

Kuzos had arrived in Sickbay and heard most of the commodore's conversation with the EMH as well as the counselor's statement. He stood silently as his violet eyes tracked the byplay between the two, He saw Sherlock with Counselor Laurell and was pleased that the little dragon was watching over her. he cleared his throat to show his arrival. "You sent for me Commodore?"

"I did, Commander," Wilkan said, turning smoothly as the Vorta's voice cut through the sterile quiet of Sickbay. He walked toward the center console, past the empty air where Sawbones had been projected just moments before. "Xurbam didn't just escape; he bypassed our encryption protocols. He knows our patrol routes, he knows our operational blind spots, and according to the Counselor, he is growing stronger with every consciousness he absorbs. I want you, your Jem'Hadar, and any personnel that encountered that thing to undergo full medical evaluation."

"You feel we are compromised Commodore." Kuzos asked not as a question but as a statement.

"I know you're compromised, Kuzos. We all are," Wilkan corrected flatly, his voice carrying the weight of a commander who had seven people under his command killed by an enemy. He subconsciously looked back at the prone shell of the nurse who was lost only because he had the courage to try to heal the monster. Now knowing that the memories of the young crewman were trapped inside that creature, it truly messed with the Commodore's head. "The moment that monster absorbed our people, it gained a foothold upon all of us. If that collective decides to turn those runabouts around and fight, or worse, if it attempts to broadcast a prefix override through an unshielded sub-channel, I can't risk our security teams lagging. Get your people checked. Clear the soot out of Mr'uaw's fur, ensure the spore counts in their blood streams are flat zero, and then stand them down on a hair-trigger alert."

Kuzos listened in silence and accepted at face value what the commodore said. "I can assure you that both First and Mr'uaw's security teams did not lag or hesitate in any way. I will have both security details report to Sickbay to be examined and once cleared, order a reduction in their alert status." Kuzo replied crisply.

"We'll speak with Doctor Kholin first," the Commodore decided after turning his attention back to Amber, his expression narrowing as he gestured toward the ICU ward. "I want her baseline scans and initial intake numbers in our hands before we take the next step. Once we have the physiological data, Counselor, then we go to A'shura. If this thing is an overcrowded cage, I intend to find the keyhole before it hits the next inhabited system."

Amber nodded. “Let’s hope A’shura can help us with that.”

"I know I ordered you to get checked out," Wilkan looked back at Kuzos, "but I want you there too."

Kuzos nodded his head fractionally, "I will be there Commodore once medical has cleared me."

"Understood, Commander," Wilkan said, his voice a tight, steady rumble as he stepped toward the entry of the ICU ward. "Make it fast."

After an initial checkup, it had been found that Sayori had gotten away lucky. While her clothing and skin were covered in spores, her rebreather had managed to keep her lungs mostly clean, and as she had not been exposed to the decontamination procedure, no growth had occurred. Accordingly, she had taken an old-fashioned shower with plenty of water to scrub off any residue on her body, and her clothes were incinerated.

Now outwardly clean, she was sitting in a chair in the ICU, waiting for her turn to have her lungs cleared out.

Seeing Kuzos in sickbay, the feline doctor coiled her tail in a sense.of being happy to see him but her ears flicked back in concern. Flipping her tricorder open and detaching the scanning wand, she approached him. "Are you alright?" She asked, having overheard the commodore's orders for a medical checkup.

Kuzos turned at the sound of Icarus's voice and despite the situation he smiled at her. "Icarus." He addressed her, "I am fine. The Commodore wishes those who were in contact with the asset to checked out. I trust you are well and are looking forward to our next outing."

"I'm fine...and I really am looking forward to it." Tail drooping a little she glanced over her shoulder towards the ICU units. "The away team isn't done though...two of them are very sick." She mustered up a more positive posture and gestured for him to follow. "Come let's get you checked out." She paused. "How did you get in contact?"

"I regret hearing that." Kuzos replied sympathetically as he got up to follow Icarus. " I was leading one security detail and First was leading the Jem'Hadar detail. We had the asset cornered in the shuttle bay and were attempting to capture it when it used its absorbed knowledge of the crew it had killed to steal two runabouts. I imagine the commodore wants to make sure we didn't breathe in any contaminated air."

"Just lay back and we'll take a few scans," the golden furred feline told him. Once he had she activated the tricorder and ran the scanning wand over his torso a few times. "You're clear," she told him, "not a spore on you." Her ears flicked backwards as she snaked her tail forward to lightly brush his cheek in covert affection. "Be careful?"

Kuzos did as Icarus instructed and lay still upon the biobed as Icarus and scanned him. After receiving the all clear he sat up and snaked his hand forward to gently squeeze her paw even as her tail lightly brushed his cheek. "I will, I promise you."

Snapping her tricorder shut, Icarus took a step back to give him room to get up from the bed. "Come back after you're done," she told him, "the captain does love his baselines... he'll want comparative readings."

"I will return once my meeting with the Commodore is finished." Kuzos promised as he gave her paw another gentle squeeze.

The Sivaoan nodded, but her entire bearing was one of worry as she watched him walk away.

The transport was instant and the comfort of the bed was somewhat soothing. However the tranquility of the isolation unit was instantly broken by the cacophony of alarms that went off the instant the Trill science chief materialized and the bed's scanning equipment was triggered. Aidan tried to sigh at the sound as well as the comfort but he ended the breath in coughs and gasps for breath. It almost felt to him like he was slowly drowning in the muck that was cluttering his airways.

The materialization sequence had barely faded from Stefaniya’s boots before the automated containment fields of her ICU bed snapped into place, humming with a sharp, heavy hum. Like Aidan's neighboring unit, the biobed immediately red-lined as the overhead sensors wailed a frantic, high-frequency sequence from the trace spore fragments. Stefaniya didn't look at the flashing warnings. She couldn't. She collapsed onto her side behind the shimmering blue plane of the forcefield, coughing until her vision blurred with tears, her fingers digging desperately into the crisp fabric of the mattress as she fought the suffocating sensation of the fungal muck clogging her airways.

"Dampen... the alarm..." she managed to gasp out between ragged, shallow breaths, her voice barely a whisper.

With a soft chime, the ship’s primary computer recognized her override sequence, lowering the sirens to a muted, pulsing rhythm. Stefaniya rolled onto her back, her face flushed with a feverish heat as the bed's automated treatment protocols began to flood her personal atmospheric envelope with a concentrated, hyper-oxygenated vapor. It felt cold against her burning throat, slowly cutting through the thick, suffocating weight in her lungs. Through the transparent, vibrating glow of her forcefield barrier, she could see the silhouette of Commodore Wilkan Targaryen moving toward the primary console, his sharp, commanding focus cutting through the chaos of the triage floor. Stefaniya swallowed hard, forcing her throat to clear. She didn't want the Commodore looking at her like a liability.

"Commodore," she greeted.

Wilkan turned to the young doctor, carefully surveying the information on the display screen behind her. He nodded politely in greeting to her, but he didn't walk toward her unit. Instead, he turned his head toward the adjacent office, his sharp eyes picking out the silhouette of Doctor Rio Kholin. He tapped a sequence on the PADD he was carrying before turning toward his entourage. Wilkan called out to the Counselor, "Amber, let's move."

Amber had offered Stefaniya a caring smile as she looked in her direction before following on behind Wilkan.

Before stepping into the office, Wilkan paused outside the neighboring forcefield. His sharp eyes locked onto Aidan, watching the Trill science chief battle the suffocating weight in his chest as the biobed's alarms pulsed a dull, muted amber.

"Hang in there, Commander," Wilkan said, his voice dropping into a low, grounding rumble that carried a rare note of personal concern. "Focus on your breathing. We've got the situation on the Bridge under control, so right now, your only directive is to let medical do their job."

"Not going anywhere," the Trill gasped softly, "staying right here." While he couldn't see the commanding officer, he was still aware of his presence thanks to his empathic senses.

Suddenly, a sharp beep-beep cut through the air as the computer chime echoed overhead. The empty space next to the biobed fractured into a familiar matrix of light, and an incredibly angry, newly reactivated Sawbones materialized right beside the bed. He grabbed a hypospray off the tray with enough force to nearly dent the metal.

"Dammit, Wilkan, I was off for five minutes and you're already back here hovering over a man who can't even filter oxygen!" Sawbones barked, storming right up to Aidan’s forcefield and crossing through the energy barrier. He pressed the hypospray against the Trill’s neck with a sharp hiss, belying his earlier irritation. "He's got fungal muck mutating in his lungs and your giant shadow isn't helping his blood pressure!" The hologram glared over his shoulder at the Commodore, his simulated brow furrowed in deep, defensive fury. "I don't care if you're just checking the inventory, get out of my triage ward and go play soldier somewhere else before I find a medical regulation that lets me lock you in a closet!"

Wilkan glanced back at the Counselor, "I feel like I've struck a holographic nerve."

Amber gave sawbones a curious look before nodding in agreement. “I think you could be right there.” She smiled a wry smile before turning to look towards Aidan. “Don’t worry about Sherlock, we seem to have a connection. I’ll look after him for you until you’re better.”

Aidan winced visibly as the hypo was pressed against his neck, not having expected it. "Thank you counselor. He can stay with you or with Kuzos."

Amber nodded. “Get your rest, and get well.”

Wilkan let out a short, faint huff that might have been a laugh on a less catastrophic day, stepping back from the forcefield as Sawbones continued to hover aggressively over Aidan’s biobed like a territorial raptor. "I'll leave you to your medicine, Doctor," Wilkan said flatly, his command mask sliding back into place as he turned his attention toward the primary office.

As the office doors slid shut behind them, filtering out the distant, muted pulsing of the medical alarms, Wilkan turned to face his inner circle, his jaw set. "Xurbam is running, and he has our crew's minds guiding his flight," Wilkan stated, looking directly at Rio. "Doctor, I need those baseline intake scans now. Tell me what we're actually hunting."

Amber looked towards Rio waiting to see what her scans had shown about Xurbam. The more they knew the better.

Rio pulled up the scans on the main display. "As far as the stealing of the minds of the people Xurbam has killed and the multiplying of his personalities as a result, that's more the Chief Counsellor's realm than mine, however from the physical science of what I've seen here, he is expanding his brain as far as his skull can contain and he's absorbing more brain chemicals and electrical currents between the functioning parts of what passes for his own processes. I can only liken it to brain food. I imagine he was metaphorically starving on that planet and now he sees the universe as some kind of feast to dive into now he's "free". Although those are just my opinion on what I think that he must be thinking, even though, of course, we have NO idea how he thinks or what kind of brain power he can access with so many personalities all vying for ..... well, do they need control? Does he, as 'alpha', control the rest? If so, how? Or, in my opinion from the huge amount of chaotic interaction and cell-functioning that seems to be going on inside his skull, is it just one great big war going on in there?"

The CMO took a breath and looked around her. "To be completely honest, I'm afraid all of this is just guess-work and a comparison of how calm his brain was when he was first transported over here to how it is now.... well how it was when he escaped, to be more accurate. I imagine it's getting worse as time passes and more beings are incorporated."

Wilkan stepped closer to the display, his shadow looming over the console as he studied the terrifying geometry of Xurbam's neural network. "So, this thing is a biological prison holding the distinct neural patterns of 50 different criminals from Saltah'na. Worse, he's added seven of my crew into the mix to help him with whatever the Hell it is that he's planning."

Kuzos had arrived in his customary silent fashion as Wilkan asked his question. he remained silent waiting to see what Amber and the CMO had to offer.

The Commodore stepped away from the display, his mind still reeling from the information his Chief Medical Officer shared. "We have all this tech at our disposal and we're limited in the information we have available. From what we do know, Doctor, is there a way to disrupt his control or communication of these prisoners inside his psyche? Can we build a dampener to break his link, or do I just need to order my Security Teams to put him out of his misery?"

"I'm sorry not to be able to offer more information, given as you say, that we have so much technology that we expect to help us, but I don't know how to deconstruct the web that is Xurbam's multi-mind but as we don't have a finer instrument to surgically 'slice up' the pieces, nor any means of identifying which slice is which personality, then I would suggest that his brain and all its 'components' are unlikely to be physically separate and so it's my sad but considered opinion that those of our crew who are trapped in there amongst 50 or more criminal minds, at a ratio of about 8:1 then it's perhaps those poor souls who need to have their misery ended. I can't condone the idea of just terminating them whilst they appear to still be sentient yet, we have no plausible containment i.e sustainable bodies - to put them back into, even if we could separate them out, which I think is virtually impossible anyway.

Personally I don't think I could bear being forced to share a mind full of people like that in that percentage so if it had been me who had been absorbed then I would be desperate for there to be someone who could end it, and me. But as a doctor I can't say, finish them all off, however, I would have to consider that Xurbam has already done that by separating every one of his victims from their corporeal identities and means of existence in a physical plane so it wouldn't be us who were terminating them and we have no other way to prevent Xurbam from murdering others in the same way, all over the universe as he rampages around sucking up information that will make it easier and more possible for him to continue with his genocide."

Rio had tears in her eyes both at the thought of the suffering of the souls of the crew who had been absorbed whilst still functioning mentally, even if only sub-consciously, the latter of which was her best and most clung-to hope for them; but also at being in a position to advocate any form of 'termination' in view of her Hippocratic Oath "to do no harm", all stretched into a decision as to which of the two 'harms' would be the worst. She had gone with the 'good' of the many in her considered medical opinion but the whole scenario would haunt her, as it had already started to.

“I don’t think there’s much else we can do” Amber looked at Wilkan. “With all those combined minds they’ll be practically inseparable. To try separating them would cause irreparable brain damage in any species. It would tear Xurbam’s psyche to pieces.”

Sherlock, who never parted from Amber's shoulder, chirped at Kuzos in greeting before turning his head at the screen. While unable to interpret the data, he could understand the danger the crew was in. He hissed menacingly at the image of their guest-turned-enemy then looked around the room. Where was the golden creature? As he looked back at his living perch, images of his query filtered into the counselor's mind.

"I'm not signing their death warrants," Wilkan repeated, his voice lower, more jagged. "If our crew is beyond retrieval, we need to honor them by taking them out of the equation. Wilkan’s hands, which had been white-knuckled on the console, slowly relaxed into fists, though the tension in his shoulders remained locked. "We can't risk the infection spreading, but Xurbam... he's the cause behind all this. He's the one choosing this path, the one consuming the minds of our people to sustain his own hollow existence. He's a parasite in a position of power, and we have the duty to cure the host, even if the treatment is absolute."

Wilkan looked at the gathered team, his eyes burning with a desperate, dark purpose. "If we can't save the seven, we save the one; we strip away the influence until only Xurbam remains, and then we hold him accountable for every life he's taken." He looked at Amber and Rio, the same voice coming from him as when he issued orders on the Bridge, "We need to find the frequency that anchors his consciousness and use it to silence the collective. We isolate Xurbam’s neural pattern and force him to stand alone in his own mind."

"We have that prison warden still aboard," Wilkan said, turning toward the Counselor, but he didn't wait for an answer, his mind already pivoting as he looked to Rio following her assessment. He finally looked to Kuzos, his expression hardening into a mask of cold, tactical resolve, "What's the creature seeing? What's it reflecting back? Can we use it to stop Frankenstein's monster?"

"Based on Sherlock's reaction, he is seeing the danger Xurbam represents and is looking for the golden creature that watched over Xurbam acted as his keeper."

“Where is A’Shura?” Amber looked around not seeing the golden guardian either.

Wilkan sighed, "Please don't tell me another monster's loose on my ship."

Sherlock chirped as if to say 'you left it where it was before'. Images of its last location filtered into the minds of the present telepaths.

Wilkan pivoted, his boots striking the deck with focused intensity as he bypassed the office and strode directly into the heart of the triage ward. The golden, immobile figure of A’Shura sat near the back, an island of eerie stillness amidst the frantic, beeping cacophony of the ICU.

"Kuzos, secure the perimeter," Wilkan ordered, his voice cutting through the hum of the medical grid. He didn't break stride until he stood inches from the creature. He looked to Amber, his expression strained but resolute. "Counselor, initiate contact. I don't care if it's been dormant, get into its mind. We need to know if this thing is a lock, a leash, or a mute button."

He turned to the medical team, his tone shifting into a commander's briefing. "Rio, monitor every scrap of neural output from A’Shura the moment the Counselor opens the link. If there’s a resonance frequency that Xurbam’s collective responds to, I want it isolated. We aren't just here to talk; we’re here to extract the operational parameters of this creature’s influence."

"Aye Sir" Rio responded and instantly started the monitor in her medicom.

Wilkan leaned in, his shadow falling over A’Shura, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly command directed at the team. "Find the signal that anchors Xurbam. If we can trigger a focal collapse in his collective, we bring him back to a singular state. We strip away the stolen voices, silence the background noise of our crew, and force him to look at what he’s done as himself—and only himself."

Kuzos didn't waste time replying. He ordered the computer to place a level ten forcefield around their location, sealing them and A'Shura inside its perimeter. Now he waited along with the others to see what information Amber could glean from it in the hope of stopping Xurbam.

Amber nodded. “I suggest you all stay back, I need A’shura out of containment” she repeated what she had done when they first made contact, lifting the containment glass she put it aside allowing A’shura freedom. “Talk to me A’shura, tell me how we help Xurbam to regain control even if it’s only for a short time.”

The containment glass hissed and slid aside, releasing a faint, metallic tang into the ward. As the barrier vanished, the A’shura did not leap or skitter; it unfolded. Its six articulated, crab-like legs pressed against the sterile surface of the medical bench, lifting its low-slung, segmented body with eerie, hydraulic precision. The soft, matted coat of golden fur covering its torso seemed to ripple, bristling as it sensed the focused intent of the telepaths surrounding it. It remained a paradox of biology (a creature of vigilant, predatory grace) yet as it turned toward Amber, its tiny claws gently raked against the bench. It did not speak with a mouth, but the psychic pressure in the room spiked, pressing against the skulls of everyone present like the onset of a migraine.

"You open the cage, yet you do not understand the beast you seek to reach," the A’shura resonated, its voice echoing with the hollow, grinding finality of shifting tectonic plates. "You speak of "regaining control" as if Xurbam were a captain at a helm, rather than a vessel crafted by blood and science. You see a monster; you fail to see the foundation of his architecture. He was not born a prison; he was engineered to be the final repository of his people's sins."

The creature’s six legs twitched in rhythmic, unsettling synchronization. Its golden coat shimmered, shedding localized heat that synchronized with the bio-rhythms of the surrounding patients, a subtle, primal comfort that felt entirely at odds with the ancient, cold weariness in its mind.

"He did not choose to consume them. His creators bound the essence of fifty criminals into his very marrow to serve as a living colony, a perpetual sentence that would outlive the stars. He is not the architect of the extinction: he is the tombstone that refused to remain buried. I do not help you save him; I assist only in the inevitable return to the silence of the void. If you play the harmonic key, you will not find a villain. You will find a man who has been screaming for nine centuries against the voices of those he was forced to house. Are you truly prepared to be the ones who shatter the lock, knowing that once the prison is empty, what becomes of the building?"

Amber was focusing hard on her communication with A’shura nodding her understanding. She took a moment to relay what A’shura had said. “We can’t save Xurbam Sir, he’s been keeping those demons locked up for over nine centuries. If we destroy what’s inside him, there’ll be nothing left but an empty shell of a man who’s been screaming to be free for all that time. In simple terms we’d be left with a mental patient, whose life…if he survived, would be spent in a padded cell.” She turned back to A’shura. “I understand what you’re saying, but that thing he’s become has to be stopped.”

Rio spoke up, the PADD she had been working on in her right hand, the recording Medicom in her left. She put the left comm down, leaving it working from the bench-top nearby and focussed on the PaDD and it's contents.

"I've been researching possibilities and I've found a product called 'Lexorin'. It's a drug that can be used to combat symptoms of multiple personality disorders, especially in those with telepathic involvement. It can also help with symptoms of generic malaise but I think it would help us best with the former application. I've also discovered, as a follow up on looking into this drug, that the A'shura releases a 'natural' form of the substance/chemical so it sounds likely that it has worked, at least a little bit, in the past. Could you ask the A'Shura please Counsellor? It may not know the Drug Lexorin but it might understand the type of thing we're talking about?"

"Turning back to the Commodore, Rio went on. "I wonder if I can produce some kind of method of administering the drug to Xurbam, or better still, help him produce it for himself? Again, Counsellor, the A'shura might be able to help/advise us on how?" She turned back to Amber as she raised the second question.

Sherlock hopped down from Amber's shoulder and landed next to the golden creature. Eyes a mix of purple and green, he gave a sad warble as he carefully nuzzled the creature, as if trying to comfort it.

The A’Shura’s multi-faceted eyes, dark and liquid, tracked the small, shifting form of Sherlock as he nuzzled against its golden coat. The localized heat radiating from the A’Shura intensified, a comforting, rhythmic pulse that seemed to momentarily soothe the jagged, psychic atmosphere of the triage ward. The entity did not recoil from the small dragon; instead, its segmented body lowered slightly, its six articulated legs anchoring it more firmly to the bench as it processed Rio’s request.

"Your medicine is a shadow of the resonance I have provided for centuries," the creature resonated, its violet light pulsing in approval. "You seek to soothe the fire. I can teach you to extinguish it. By synthesizing this chemical - tuned to the frequency I shall provide - you can create a field that does not just suppress the voices but harmonizes them. It will not break him, nor will it leave an empty shell, but it will allow the fragments of his psyche to reintegrate into a singular, balanced consciousness."

Wilkan listened carefully as the A'Shura laid it all down for them, a synthesis of harmony rather than euthanasia. The tension in his body didn't vanish though, merely shifted. He looked at the blueprint shimmering on the display, then back to his Chief Medical Officer.

"Doctor Kholin," Wilkan’s voice was a low, resonant rumble that brook no debate, "You heard the creature. This is no longer a triage situation; this is an engineering requirement for the soul." He gestured sharply toward the data the A'Shura had provided. "I want you to coordinate with Engineering to tune our replicators to produce the medication at that specific frequency immediately. If this 'Lexorin' derivative needs a delivery mechanism, you build it. If it needs to be broadcast as a localized resonant field to guide this integration, you make it happen."

"Right away Sir" Rio confirmed and uploaded the data the A'Shura provided. "Thank you" she said, softly but with genuine gratitude to the golden creature.

Wilkan turned his head toward Kuzos, his expression hardening into a mask of tactical focus, "Commander, work with the Doctor. I want that treatment ready to deploy the moment we intercept those runabouts. I don't care if you have to rig the ship's entire deflector grid to act as a dispersal array—get it done. Save our crew, stabilize the host, and end this. Let's get to it."

Amber nodded before looking back at A’shura. “Thank you for your help.” She then looked to Sherlock. “Are you coming Sherlock?”

The little blue dragon nuzzled the golden creature a final time and took wing, chirping quizzically in response. He was coming, but really wanted to return to his bond mate.

The CMO transferred the data they had been given to the computer and from there to the Medical Lab so they could start working on it. "I'd like to work on this in the Med Lab - Commander Kuzos, would you be kind enough to join me there or would you prefer to work from Engineering or Ops, Sir?"

"Work from here," Wilkan answered before he took a final look at the golden creature, his hand resting instinctively near the Phaser on his hip, before he turned his back on the triage ward, his mind already calculating the precise moment of engagement for the coming confrontation.

Aidan listened to the retreating footsteps, closing his eyes as he tried to relax. Trying being the key word because being unable to breathe properly was giving him a very claustrophobic feeling. "What's the verdict doctor, and how are the others?" He asked between coughs and gasps for breath. If only the EMH knew how to sign, that'd make it so much easier? How is Stef? he tried, instantly knowing this wasn't going to work either as it was energy draining. Energy which, like air, he didn't have much of.

Sawbones stomped back to the bedside, his holographic frame flickering with a sharp, electric pulse of annoyance. He ignored the question about signing; he wasn't here to teach charades while his patients were drowning in their own lungs. "Stow the chatter, Commander. Every word is another cubic centimeter of oxygen you’re wasting," he snapped, his voice a gravelly, synthesized rasp. He tapped a command into the diagnostic field, causing the scrubbers to hum at a higher, more aggressive pitch. The hologram sighed, the light around his shoulders dimming as his posture softened. He realized he had been projecting his frustration with the situation onto the man beneath his care, and that was something that he'd never approve of. He pulled a stool over, the metal legs scraping quietly against the deck, and sat down, his expression losing its sharp, defensive edge.

"Sorry, Aidan," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, weary tone that lacked the usual bite. "I'm just… I’m tired of losing good people to things I can’t put a scalpel to." He checked the monitor, ensuring the oxygen levels were compensating for the Trill's struggling lungs. "Stefaniya is holding steady for now, but she's in the same boat as you. Just rest. I'm not going anywhere, and I’m keeping a close watch on both of you. You don’t need to talk, and you definitely don’t need to worry. Just breathe and let the medicine do the heavy lifting. I’ve got this handled."

Aidan nodded very slowly, then blindly searched for the EMH's hand and squeezed it weakly as sign of understanding. "Not going anywhere," he whispered, "get someone to watch Saeri.." it was a bare whisper before the Trill drifted into a medicine induced sleep to reduce his struggling breath.

Sawbones froze for a heartbeat as Aidan’s hand found his, the holographic tactile sensors registering the weak, trembling grip. He looked down at the Trill’s fingers, then at the erratic pulse dancing across the bio-monitor, his own expression softening into something uncharacteristically paternal. He didn’t pull his hand away; instead, he rested his other hand over Aidan’s, his touch firm and steadying. He waited until the medication took hold and Aidan’s breathing smoothed out into a rhythmic, fragile cycle before finally disengaging his hand. He stood up, his gaze lingering on his patient with a mix of professional scrutiny and genuine concern.

Sayori watched Aidan go under as she waited for the hypospray one of the nurses had applied to work. "Excuse me, holo-doc? EMH?" She grinned and shrugged, her normally bubbly nature starting to return. "Not sure what to call you. Anyway, if you want, I can watch Aidan's monitor while you go work on someone else. I can see it fine from here, and I know what to look out for. Not like I can do anything else while I'm stuck here."

She took a deep breath. "I sure am glad I wasn't affected as badly," she added. "Guess I'm lucky that my decon pod wasn't switched on yet when the other two collapsed."

"You can call me Sawbones, or Doc, provided you don't use it as an excuse to ignore my orders," Sawbones said as he turned from Aidan’s unit, his holographic form flickering slightly as he processed the request. He studied Sayori for a moment, his sensors scanning her vitals and the environmental readings around her bed. She was right — her exposure had been significantly lower, and while she wasn't entirely in the clear, she was far more resilient than the two currently fighting for breath in the ICU beds.

"You're right, you are lucky. But don't mistake luck for immunity. Stay in that bed, keep your respiratory rate down, and keep those eyes on the monitor. I have rounds to finish, but I’m going to hold you to that offer." He tapped a sequence into the console near her bed, slaving a secondary display onto her bedside terminal. "I’ll enable the monitoring interface for Commander Datari’s unit. You see those parameters in the corner? If the oxygen saturation drops below seventy-five percent or the neural patterns show erratic spikes, you alert me immediately. No playing hero and trying to initiate treatment yourself."

Sayori chuckled. "Doc, I told you, I know what to look out for. I'm a scientist, not an idiot. But I'm not a medic, either, so obviously I wouldn't do anything without raising the alarm first. I know how to apply first aid, stop a bleeding and all that, even without tech at hand, but none of this stuff." She glanced over at Aidan's monitor, showing all parameters in an acceptable range. "Go deal with your other patients, I've got him covered."

"Good," Sawbones rumbled, his voice lacking its earlier bite. The silence of the ICU was punctuated only by the rhythmic cycling of the atmospheric scrubbers and the soft, modulated beeps of the bio-monitors.

The weight of the situation (the missing runabouts, the dying crew, and the spreading, intangible threat) tugged at his subroutines, but he pushed it aside, forcing his focus back to the tangible. He was a doctor, and for the next few hours, the entirety of his universe was defined by the four walls of this triage ward. Silently, though, he inwardly cursed his creators at the Jupiter Station Holoprogramming Center for their drive to make his line so efficient at interacting naturally with patients for weeks at a time. The expectation that he be able to share amusing anecdotes, extend sympathy, swap dirty jokes, and even have culinary opinions was a bit grating from time to time. Which triggered another subroutine.

He glanced back at Sayori, his holographic eyes softening just a touch. "And stay alert, yourself. If you start feeling that tightness in your chest or a metallic taste in your mouth, you call for a nurse immediately. We’ve lost enough people today."

Sayori smiled. "Of course. Could someone get me a big glass of cold water, please?" She leaned back in her chair and breathed out heavily, briefly closing her eyes as she began to relax. "It's been one hell of a day. But I'm glad to not be stuck in a runabout anymore."

The monitor 'watching' the sleeping science chief continued to beep softly as his breathing seemed to become more shallow as the rest of his body finally relaxed. The oxygen levels were still very low, bordering on the line between green and orange, fluctuating heavily. Other readings still indicated a significant amount of stress, both mentally and physically despite him seeming to be relaxed.

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