The engine room of the USS San Clemente was rarely quiet, but Brunak had never heard this kind of noise in there before. He stomped down the catwalk muttering something about diagnostics that were lying to him. He suddenly stopped dead next to the core.

“Korren!” he shouted toward the Cardassian engineer, “Why is my warp core purring?”

Korren had her head inside an access hatch, working on an EPS manifold with her sleeves rolled up as always. She always assisted engineering when she could, she wasn’t one to shy away from work. She didn’t even look up at him as he shouted. “Because this ship is older than most the crew on board, and your warp core responds to being kicked just as much as it does to a re calibration.”

There was another sound, not the usual hum of the core and not a vibration either. A high pitched noise, it sounded…. Happy.

Brunak glared at the ceiling, “that” he said gesturing toward a hatch, “isn’t my core, that’s mockery!”

Korren dipped her head and sighed, she turned around to look toward the clearly agitated Tellarite. She dusted off her uniform and cocked her head trying to listed to what had vexed Brunak. There was nothing at first but then she heard it too, her eyes widening and then narrowing toward the hatch. “No…. that’s not possible. Please tell me that’s not a….”

Brunak poppled the hatch, as it opened a ball of fur tumbled out and landed neatly on the deck. It chirped like it had been invited to enter engineering. It rolled straight into Brunak’s boot.

Brunak made a noise, somewhere between a sneeze and a curse. He picked it up buy the fur, “Tribble.”

The creature purred happily, and Korren groaned. “Of course we dock with a science vessel and this is what they leave us.”

The tribble wriggled free and rolled toward a supply crate, disappearing inside. A second later the crate rattled then the lid burst open. A cascade of tribbles poured out, bouncing across the deck.

Junior engineers shouted, a young Bolian ensign tried to scoop them up only to be overwhelmed and give up against the tide of fur.

“Containment breach!” he shouted,

On the Bridge, T’lenar raised an eyebrow at the sudden background noise over the comm. “Captain, engineering seems…. Agitated.”

Traven tapped him combadge. “Bridge to engineering, status?”

Korrens voice snapped back across the communication system. “Captain, we have a…. situation.”

Traven leant forward in his chair, the leather creaking, “Define Situation” he replied.

“Infestation!” Brunak bellowed in reply followed by a moment of silence “Tribbles!” the channel closed.

The leather in the captains chair creaked a little harder than normal as he looked toward his first officer rubbing his temple, “Tribble reports never end well.”

T’Lenar tapped the panel on the side of her chair opening the shipwide comm, “All departments, check in, security sweeps all decks.”

At the helm, Lt Kree smirked, “worse case, we can strap them onto the hull and they can pioneer tribble based warp!”

Sh’rol lifted his head at tactical, his antennae twitching. “If one of those little balls of fur set foot in my armoury, I will treat them as enemy combatants.”

“No shooting tribbles,” Traven warned.

Lt Saell at the science console locked her eyes on the internal readings on the screen in front of her. “they may be cute but they reproduce so fast. One becomes ten and ten becomes a hundred before you even realise they’re there. They can consume entire colonies.”

“then we must stop them,” Sh’rol said grimly, “with phasers, low stun, that will slow them.”

“No phasers,” Traven repeated, “We’ll handle this properly.” He tapped the chairs comm button once more, “Engineering, contain it as best you can. Sickbay, prepare for fur-induced medical emergencies. Security, swap your phasers for brooms.”

Sickbay was a buzz of activity, personnel preparing themselves for an influx of activity. The doors opened, everyone turned, PO Rebecca Thorne held her breath expecting their first patient. Instead a small ball of fur rolled in and bounced onto a biobed. It seemed to settle like it was there for a check up.

Rebecca looked toward the main office, “Doctor… ?”

Dr Paldor looked up from her tricorder, braid held perfectly in position as always. Her eyes narrowed, “oh no, not here”

Two more tribbles rolled in through the door, followed by a third but this one had attached itself to an Crewmans trouser leg.

Rebecca set her coffee down and grabbed a containment box. “Fine, you’re all patients now.” She picked up each of the tribbles, who purred as she did so, and put them gently into the box.

An hour after the first had entered, sickbay had become a sort of halfway house for lost Tribbles.

Counselor Sora Venn stuck her head through the door, shoes in her hands as always. She paused for a second “They’re content”.

Dr. Paldor shot her a look while collecting more of them from an access hatch. “We’re not!”

Sora tilted her head smiling. “Simple minds, all warmth, food and admiration, they like you.”

Rebecca groaned, “perfect, I’m the queen of tribbles.”

Cargo bay two had become Sh’rol’s battlefield, to his left and right he was flanked by security officers. Some holding brooms, some had nets.

“Teams Alpha and Beta, form up! Nets ready, Brooms primed!”

Some officers shots looks to one another that suggested that they were security, not pest control. Though, they responded in unison. Sh’rol was proud of them, his drills had clearly prepared them for this moment.

The doors opened and a tidal wave of tribbles rolled through. They bounced of cargo containers and shelving, nocking anything out of their way.

“Charge!!” Sh’rol shouted, like an officer of legend finally meeting their destiny.

Chaos erupted around the room. Tribbles seem to fly around the cargo bay, the security teams waving their nets to try to contain the horde. The tribbles swarmed them, a young ensign disappearing under the furry tide, muffles cries followed.

“Recover that man!” shouted Sh’rol

The ensign was dragged out, red faced but with a look of triumph.

Kree’s voice came over the comm, far too amused. “hey Sh’rol, you look like you’re losing to laundry day!”

“Helm!” Sh’rol snapped in reply, “you can report to cargo bay, if you can mock you can sweep!”

By the evening, the horde of tribbles had infiltrated every deck. Crewmen could hear their vibrations and purring echoing through the jeffries tubes. They had nestled themselves into every corner.

Captain Traven ordered a senior staff meeting in the observation lounge. As they arrived, half the chairs were already occupied by their visitors.

Brunak slapped one off the table, “This. Is. War.”

T’Lenar lifted an eyebrow as the tribble she’s just removed from her chair was climbing onto her lap. She didn’t move. “This is statistically improbable onboard modern starships, and yet…”

Korren shook her head and folded her arms. “we should rehome them all to the USS ibn Al-Haytham, it’s clearly their fault.”

Saell leant forward, “no, Captain Vako would eject us into space and let the tribbles have our ship.”

Sh’rol raised his hand, “Tribbles have natural predators”

Brunak looked excited, “good! Let’s get those”

“Klingons”, Sh’rol continued

Brunak sat back in his chair, clearly deflated.

The captain, sat at the end of the table pinched his nose. “No Klingons, No Phasers, No ejections into space. We need to contain them.”

Saell had been staring at her PADD the entire time, studying the screen intently. She finally looked up “Captain…. Interesting development, the tribbles have stopped multiplying.”

The room froze, everyone looking at each other waiting for her to continue.

“Their numbers have stabilised. Either they’ve ran out of food or they’ve been genetically modified.”

Korren narrowed her eyes, “The ibn Al-Haytham left us designer tribbles?”

Brunak growled, still visibly annoyed at their presence. “Designer or not, they’re still eating our replicator stock.”

The crew of the Mente worked through the night. Teams sweeping through the corridors in shift to collect and contain the horde. Korren’s engineering teams used the industrial replicators to build containment crates for their furry prisoners.

Sickbay had been handing out antihistamines like they were sweets. The Doctor had never seen so many of the crew come down with what could only be described as Hayfever.

By the morning, Cargobay Three had become tribble central. Hundreds of them piled together purring in a chorus.

Traven was surveying the cargo bay, he folded his arms looking at the pile. “Well, they’re contained.”

Sora Venn tilted her head. “They’re…. Happy.”

“They’ll be happier when they’re not our problem anymore.” Brunak muttered.

Korren smirked faintly, “Maybe we should keep a few, for, your know, moral support”

Brunak grunted loudly and Sh’rol growled “no chance!”

Kree held up a tan and brown tribble, around the size of his fist. “Captain, we’re officially a repair ship and a petting zoo.”

Traven signed, “Log them, contain them, and for the love of the fleet keep them away from the replicators.”

They tribbles vibrated and purred in chorus, as if they were applauding.

That night, Traven was finally sat in his ready room. Reading through the reports from the different departments. One lone tribble had somehow escaped containment. It perched itself on the arm of his chair.

He glared at it for a moment, the tribble purred louder.

Traven signed. “Fine. One Mascot.”