Something was loose, somewhere behind the bulkheads; Ole was sure of it. Some sort of faulty component or a loose hull plate which quivered ever so slightly, yet with sufficient force to create a supremely frustrating ‘tap tap tap’ against the walls of Icarus’s communal space. The gigantic security officer crawled across the panelling, his face pressed to the metallic surface like an azure truffle pig.

“Oy, big blue! Will you sit down already?” Tulil shouted from his chair at the central table as he rocked back and forth, his massive muscular bulk causing the sturdy frame to creak in pain.

“Something is making that noise,” Ole muttered under his breath.

“There’s no noise.” Tulil sighed as he lifted his gigantic boots onto the table, causing the chair to give another squeal of pain before accepting its fate. “You’re imagining it.”

“There is too a noise and for all you know it could be an loose hull plate and we could all be sucked out into space.” Ole cast a dark frown at the Romulan. “Just help me.”

“I am helping,” Tulil tapped the peak of his tall ears.“There is no noise.”

Ole huffed in frustration before returning to his search, his large cheek squashed against the flat surface as he hunted the elusive noise.

“Still searching?” Oshira mused as she strode through the archway that led to the cargo bay, her archaic rebreathers rasping with a sibilant hiss.

Tulip nodded judgemantaly as he lifted a padd from the table and activated it with a giant thumb.

“You can hear it, right Oshira?” Ole pleaded from the corner where he clambered over a sofa to get a better angle against the curving shape of a bulkhead.

Oshira stepped towards the small kitchenette and lifted a cup from the shelf with a sigh.

“Sorry buddy, can’t hear much over these things anyway,” she tapped the slender metallic rebreathers fitted to her cheek with a manicured nail.

“Why are you back using the old school tech?” Tulil asked, allowing his attention to meander from the scrolling letters on his padd for a moment.

“Turns out the fumes from the plasma fire had some lasting damage to my subdermal units. Malax was a bit too busy to take a look before we set off.” Oshira allowed another sibilant sigh to leave her lips as she pressed the base of the coffee cup, causing the inbuilt chemical pack to begin its exothermic reaction. “So, once again, I’m back to sounding like a snake for the foreseeable future.”

“That’s frustrating,” Tulil groaned as he leaned back on the chair once more. “It’s all I can hear.”

“What?”

“The in and out of the rebreathers is like a constant low-level hiss.” Tulil rubbed a stubby finger into his right ear, working as far as he dare into the canal.

“Well, I apologise profusely that my life support mechanism is frustrating.” Oshira shot the burly Romulan a sharp look as she lifted the cup to her lips, testing the drink’s temperature with a short sip. With a hiss, she recoiled at the lava-like coffee; the ration packs always ran too hot for her taste.

“Your apology is accepted.” The petty officer offered a playful smile before returning to his padd.

“What does it sound like, Ole?” Oshira set the cup down on the table with a light clunk before turning her attention to the ungainly blue form that hung from the rafters like a spider, his large cheeks pressed against the ceiling.

“It’s a tapping,” the man replied.

“Just one?”

“No, lots of little ones.”

“Maybe we’ve got mice,” Oshira joked with a slight laugh. “We’ll have to requisition a cat when we get back.”

“Mice?” Ole turned towards the aged woman, his brow lifting a non-existent eyebrow in curiosity.

Oshira lifted her fingers to her crown of hair, imitating a small pair of ears. “Yeah, mice. Small rodents, they get into every nook and cranny.”

Ole dropped from the roof with a weight that shook the deck plates. With obvious worry, he began edging towards the central table, giving the surrounding walls panicked looks.

“Yeah, they get into everything.” Oshira continued, creating a small whirlpool in her cup as she idly moved it in circles across the table surface.

“Are they dangerous?” Old whispered fearfully.

“Worse than tribbles, I hear,” Tulil smirked without looking up from his padd.

Ole turned a pale blue.

“Worse than tribbles? Gods…” His eyes darted from bulkhead to bulkhead. “I need to see if the database has anything on these mice.”

“I think Rhoska has dealt with them before. I remember he mentioned something about Kirrick II?” Oshira lifted the mug to her chin, drawing in the scent of the dark coffee.

“Wasn’t that the colony they abandoned because of an infestation?” Tulip mused. Ole’s were growing into wide blue gems set deep in his rapidly paling skin, now a pale sky blue in tone.

“I think so,” Oshira shrugged.

Ole quickly turned on his heel and began thundering towards the runabout’s small cargo bay where the aged lieutenant had set up a small workshop.

“Kirrick II… Mice…” he muttered under his breath as the doors swished closed behind him.

After a few seconds of welcome calm had settled upon the lounge, Tulil lifted his gaze from the padd in hand.

“Was that too mean?” He frowned, pushing his heavy prominent forehead into deeper crevices.

“Would you prefer he carried on climbing the walls?”

“What if Rhoska tells him the truth?”

“Then I’ll have to find something else to distract him with.” Oshira offered a devilish grin across the table to the reclining Romulan. “Maybe he’d be interested in that trashy romance novel you’re reading?”

Tulil twitched in surprise, causing the chair to wobble threateningly as the top-heavy crewman twisted to maintain his balance.

“You’re some kind of evil genius, aren’t you?” He growled as he found equilibrium again.

Oshira shrugged innocently.

“Wait till you get to chapter twelve; it gets crazy,” she said with a nonchalant smile as she lifted the cup to her lips and took a slow sip.

“Evil. Genius.” Tulil whispered before he lifted the padd to his face and began reading furiously.