The USS Cardinal streaked silently through the ink-black stretch of space along the Breen frontier. Her Nebula-class hull shimmered with streaked starfield distortion as she cut a trailing vector up along the border. It has been five days since the ship carried out a detailed scan of Lingurn Fleet Yards from directly across the border. The massive sensor pod perched on her secondary hull scanned far beyond the horizon. It now monitored the sparse chatter transmitted between distant vessels beneath the constant hum of stellar radiation. On Gamma Shift, the long hours of night watch had settled into a quiet, vigilant rhythm. Most officers fought a faintly weary feeling as midnight rolled past.

Ensign Wayne Hammersmith’s drawl carried across the bridge like a lazy chord. “Binary star YXY 242-AB will be comin’ into range in one minute. The system’s settin’ about a sector and a half across the Breen line. That’s well within the limits of the pod’s long-range sweep.” The 6’5 Texan hunched forward, his lanky frame hunched over a station calibrated towards navigation. His reddish-brown hair was cut short against his scalp. He scratched his ruddy beard as he stared at the glowing panel.

From the center seat, Acting Captain Lieutenant Commander M’kath lifted his square jaw. His luminous brown eyes narrowed on the viewscreen’s vision of the path ahead. His ridges curled out from the central coil of his forehead like stone etched by centuries of genetics. His gravely voice rumbled with authority. “Ensign Veetha, bring us out of warp when the stars fall into scanner range.”

At Helm, the Ferengi Ensign flashed her pointy teeth in an expression halfway between a grin and a sneer. At barely 5’2, her slight frame seemed dwarfed by the large control panel in front of her. The orange-amber woman’s lobes twitched with precision as her fingers adeptly programmed the timing of the ship’s deceleration. “Aye, sir. Dropping out of warp in three… two… now.”

Space snapped into clarity as the Cardinal slowed to one-quarter impulse speed. The forward screen lit with the twin fires of YXY 242-AB. The binary pair blazed like incendiary jewels against the ebon void. One star burned a deep orange, swollen and dark in its elder age. Its partner was a small bundle of blue-white light that circled the larger ball in a tight orbit. A shared corona between both celestial bodies flared in violent sheets of burning light. Plasma arcs leapt between the trio like fluorescent rivers of lightning.

Commander T’Naagi leaned forward at the XO’s station. Loose copper hair worn out tumbled down her slender shoulders. Fair pink irises contained within almond-shaped eyes analyzed the binary pair. The woman’s yellow-green complexion carried a bit more verdant undertones than usual. Fellow Orion Raii had recently shared his love of “getting a good green” under artificial solar lamps. “Magnificent,” she said before taking a deep breath. Her eyes widened with excitement. “This is actually a rare type of binary star. Not many ships can scan these stars because they are so far across the Breen border. Their stellar activity has only been analyzed through long range scans. Our pod will capture a view unprecedented in detail.”

At Science, Lieutenant JG Spavk’s pale blonde head inclined minutely. His black eyes remained fixed on the streams of data that cascaded down his monitor. His tone was as unemotional as the readings themselves. “Confirmed. YXY 242-AB displays rotational modulation consistent with extreme magnetic activity. The chromospheric flares are irregular but synchronized in pulse. Collated data should prove quite useful to astrological researchers stationed at Mellstoxx III.”

“Useful?” Hammersmith let out a bark of laughter. “Spavk, that looks like a big ol’ set a fireworks to me. This is the biggest blast I ever did see.”

Spavk did not look up. His brow tightened with the faintest suggestion of irritation. “Your analogy is inaccurate. Fireworks, as you describe them, require atmospheric oxygen to ignite. Space is an airless vacuum, thus rendering combustion impossible. Furthermore—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hammersmith cut in as he waved his long fingers towards the Vulcan. “They had fireworks up around Sol Station on Frontier Day. I bet you’d love to see the real thing blastin’ off over the Rio Grande. Get you some Texas barbeque, loud country music and folks hollerin’ left and right. It would knock your pointy-eared socks clean off.”

The Vulcan raised one eyebrow as he barked. “Unlikely. In addition, those were not fireworks above Earth. They were polaric light displays.”

Across the bridge, Lieutenant JG Thiv ch’Tholor’s cerulean cheeks flushed faintly purple as he smirked behind the tactical controls. The Andorian chan’s antennae twitched toward the banter, though he said nothing.

The hum of camaraderie masked the sound of Ensign Trell Dirov’s quick, strangled breath at Ops. The cobalt-blue Bolian’s yellow eyes flickered as he pressed one azure hand to his temple. A stabbing pulse shot through his skull. He grit his teeth and bent over his console. He tried to will the pain away. He had felt a little stressed and tired lately. This increasingly nauseating feeling was new. His youthful, round cheeks tightened with strain. Dirov tried to tell himself he was just exhausted from the late shift.

No one else seemed to notice.

Onscreen, the binary stars flared with new pulses of light. Luminous tendrils of plasma bridged the gulf between them in a slow, crackling dance within the corona. Spavk’s calm voice narrated the spectacle. “The coronal mass ejections are vast, each exceeding two astronomical units in length. The radiation data will provide insight into the delicate balance that allows these heavenly bodies to coexist.”

“Scan complete,” T’Naagi interrupted smoothly. She gave M’kath a measured smile. She always felt excitement towards her gamma shift role as acting executive officer. “The dataset is archived, encrypted and ready for relay.”

M’kath gave a sharp nod. Pride flashed briefly behind his dark eyes before his warrior’s sense of restrained military bearing returned. “Helm. Resume the current patrol vector, warp eight.”

Veetha’s fingers skimmed her console. The warp engines rumbled faintly through the deckplates. The stars ahead stretched into white streaks around the bulbous starship.

Trell released an aggravated muffle that slowly built into a scream.

The cry tore across the bridge as it broke through the quiet hum of the ship’s EPS flow and the chirping beeps of a dozen consoles. “Go away! Leave me alone!” The Bolian jerked against his seat as he clutched his head in both hands. His voice rose in a guttural wail. Panic clawed at every syllable.

Every officer froze.

M’kath surged to his feet. His ridged brow furrowed in alarm as he shouted. “Ops!” His voice boomed. “Ensign Dirov! Report!”

Trell’s yellow eyes stared blindly. They lay fixed on something no one else could see. His limbs shook violently as he thrashed. “No! I said leave me.”

The Klingon stabbed his commbadge. “Bridge to Sickbay. Emergency.”

The reply came instantly. The deep, gravelly voice was tinged with the rough edges of East London. “Sickbay here, Doctor Clark speaking. We’ve got your signal, Commander. What’s going on?”

“Ensign Trell Dirov is incapacitated,” M’kath barked. “He is under attack from the Jovian Mind Flu. His mind is breaking before our eyes.”

Clark’s voice sharpened as urgency threaded through his cockney dialect. “Stand by. I’m prepping for a site-to-site to bed twenty-six. Transport in three seconds.”

A wash of blue light swallowed Dirov’s form as he writhed. His last yell quickly snapped into silence as the transporter whisked the anguished Bolian away. The console at ops blinked before an empty seat.

Silence gripped the bridge. Even the Andorian tactical officer’s antennae hung taut with unease.

The comm crackled after a few tense moments. Clark’s husky timbre was steady but grim. “Patient Dirov is secured. His vitals are still a bit unstable. The latest treatments show high efficacy. He’s safe for now. But we’ll need to keep a close eye on him.”

“Keep us informed”, M’kath stated. “I thought your treatments were making progress.”

We’ve had new cases poppin’ up all over the ship. Now your Operations officer is down as well. We’ll be sending up a team to the bridge right away. I need blood drawn from every one o’ you, pronto. Then you’ll get a hypospray of the latest preventive application.”

M’kath’s jaw tightened as he scowled. “We already received a hypospray not even two days past.”

Clark paused before he snapped back. Hints of irritation crept into his professionalism. “Aye, you did. That was version two. This here’s version three. It was updated just this morning. The bug’s mutating, Commander. If you want your crew sane, you’ll take the spray.”

The Klingon’s low growl rumbled through the still air. He clenched his fists but gave a curt nod. “Very well, Doctor. Send your team.”

Clark’s tone softened only slightly. Urgency still cut through each word. “Right then. Keep your eyes sharp ‘til they arrive. If anyone else starts hearing voices or shouting at shadows, call me straight away.”

The channel closed.

On the bridge, the crew exchanged wary glances. The stars streaked silently past. Warp eight carried them deeper along the Breen border. The recirculated air of the Cardinal’s bridge felt thick with unease.