“The torpedoes don’t seem to have conveyed the message well enough,” Gantzmann reported. “The creatures in front of us are continuing to close.”

“And the ones behind us are still there,” Rrr added. “Sensors are getting more and degraded though as they start to bunch up. I’m having difficulty making out Perseus on sensors, but looks like they’ve accelerated again.”

Gabrielle slumped in the command chair, thinking through the situation before her. They still couldn’t figure out why these creatures were attracted to Atlantis or how to communicate with them. They couldn’t even see them on sensors, but then again, these beings seemed to disturb subspace just by existing, which explained the sensor thing at least. They still needed to find a way to outrun these things and circle back for the shuttle they left behind before leaving the system, hopefully back to the Underspace corridor and find a way to force it open.

“What course is Perseus taking?” she finally asked, needing to fill the space more than anything.

“It would seem,” Rrr started, dragging for a moment to check readings, double check them as well, “they’re headed for the ring directly. Wow. I didn’t know Galaxy-class ships went that fast.”

“Oh?” Gabrielle asked.

“They’re pushing their engines rather ruinously, I think. Honestly, can’t be certain.”

The snort came from behind Gabrielle. “I think the likelihood of the captain being aboard Perseus then is rather high,” Gantzmann explained. “Who else would convince Captain Garland to push her starship to such extremes?”

“I…wouldn’t know,” Gabrielle said. “I’ve only ever met her that one time.” Gabrielle returned her attention to the viewscreen, with its speckling of stars and the flicking of coloured lights that signalled the butterflies ahead of them. “What options do we –“

“Raise the shields!” came a shouted order as the turbolift hissed open and out spilled Maxwell Simmons, followed more sedately by Goresh Krek. “We need to change the modulation as well!”

Gabrielle shot to her feet, turning around and was half ready to try and smite Simmons, the man barging onto the bridge was a clear provocation to her. But then she saw the look on his face, which wasn’t some smug ‘taking command’ look, but more of a ‘startingly discovery that has me very concerned.’ “Lieutenant Simmons!” she shouted. “Explain yourself.”

“I don’t have time for this,” he spat at her, turning to Gantzmann and shoving a padd in her direction. “Change the shield modulations, Commander, or we’re all dead.”

Gantzmann merely took the padd from Simmons, turned it face down and carefully set it down on the tactical arch, her hand holding it flat on the console. “Perhaps, Lieutenant, you had best do as the commander of this ship has ordered and explain yourself.” It wasn’t a request Gantzmann made, but something that verged on a threat, menace edging in on her typically professional tone.

“Oh, give me a break,” Simmons said exasperatedly. “We all know who is really in charge around here!”

“Lieutenant Commander Camargo,” Gantzmann answered, emphasising the word commander in Gabrielle’s rank. “Second Officer of this ship and your department head as well. Remember that.”

Simmons’ eye roll was one for the ages, the sigh that followed similarly. But with no one suddenly jumping to the task he had hurriedly blurted out upon arriving on the bridge, he finally conceded. “We’re wasting time,” he tried one last time. “Fine. Fine! The creatures chasing us are what’s causing the subspace disturbances.”

“We figured that much out,” Gabrielle retorted.

“Well congratulations,” Simmons replied. “But did you figure out that the creatures are also projecting a neurolytic field? Oh, no? You didn’t? Did you also figure out how to block that majority of its effect?”

“Neither did you.” Goresh Krek’s sudden entry into the conversation was perfectly timed. It brought a smile to Gabrielle’s face as Simmons turned on the Tellarite, fury bubbling under his skin. “I figured out the field. Gerald figured out the shield harmonics.” Krek stepped forward to the arch, ignoring Simmons, and addressed Gabrielle directly. “He’s not wrong about needing to do the shield harmonics soon though, Commander.”

Gabrielle nodded, then nodded once to Gantzmann, who responded in kind and started on the change. “Thank you, Ensign,” she finally said to Krek. “Simmons, get off my bridge.”

“It’s not your bri-” Simmons’ protest was cut short as he suddenly slumped forward over the arch, unconscious, with Gantzmann’s hand at the base of his neck – a nerve pinch perfectly executed.

“You can do that?” Gabrielle asked in awe.

“I’ll explain later,” Gantzmann replied, returning to work as Simmons slowly slid backwards before crumpling to the floor at Krek’s feet, who merely watched it happen, stepping back to keep Simmons from falling on their boots. “But his screeching was getting disruptive.”

“I should add,” Krek said, stepping around Simmons, “that the shield modifications aren’t perfect. It’ll delay the effect, not stop it.”

“What type of effect are we looking at with this field and how long have we got?” Gabrielle asked.

“Reduced cognitive capability leading to eventual incapacitation, we think,” Krek admitted. “And with the shield modifications, seventy-two hours or so. Better than the fifteen minutes we predicted for when those things get closer.”

“That’s an insidious hunting method,” Rrr said. “Stop the prey from fleeing, or communicating, then thinking. Then do what you want with them.”

“That’s it, we’re done being prey.”

“New contact, bearing dead ahead,” the ops officer announced. “Starfleet shuttle just launched from the ring surface. Transponder lists it as the Lesbos.”

“Seriously, Bug?” Rachel muttered to her side. “Hail them,” she then directed to her officer.

Soon enough the viewscreen was replaced with the close in confines of a shuttle’s cockpit, Lieutenants T’Val and Gérard Maxwell up front, the rest crammed into the space behind them and more than a few looking a little breathless. “Captain!” Maxwell half-shouted. “Where’s Atlantis?”

“Fleeing at full impulse, being chased by something,” Tikva answered. “What is going on here?”

“Being chased?” Maxwell asked, then realisation hit. “The butterflies! Captain, there’s a cosmozoan species here in the system. We managed to learn they’re responsible for the death of all sentient life on the ring. They’re attracted to thought. The ring builders came up with a weapon against the butterflies, but we couldn’t find it anywhere.”

“What type of defence?” Rachel asked, rising to her feet.

“We didn’t get that far before T’Val ordered us out of the caves we were in.” Maxwell waved off any query about that. “We just got a name – Grok’ti.”

“Repeat that Lieutenant,” Rachel ordered.

“Grok’ti ma’am,” he dutifully responded. “No clues as to what it is, just a name.”

“Did you learn at least how effective it was?” Rachel continued.

“Apparently exceedingly well. But not well enough to prevent the ring builders from going extinct.”

“Captain, Fleet Captain, should I bring the Lesbos to the Perseus?” T’Val asked.

“No,” Rachel answered immediately. “Head for the anomaly that brought us here, best speed. We’ll catch you up when we can. We have to deliver a weapon, it would seem.”

“Understood,” T’Val answered, then killed the comm channel with a confused Gérard Maxwell still on screen.

“Now, can we go recklessly into the fray?” Tikva asked, offering her most charming smile.

“Twice. Twice now I’ve come to the rescue of your ship.” Rachel stepped up to her helm officer, resting a hand on their shoulder. “Set course for the Atlantis, best speed. Red alert folks!”