Captain’s Log

We’ve finished calibrating the Rubidoux to conduct a warp tow of the infected Klingon vessel and we’ve charted a path that will take us through the most empty space possible and minimize exposure and risk as much as possible. My chief science officer and chief medical officer think the ship is somehow transforming the crew into symbiotic components. Like red blood cells in a larger living organism. My cosmozoological skills are pretty rusty but this goes beyond even the crazy stuff already documented by the likes of the Enterprise and Titan. I’m getting red flags from a ship suffering some kind of metaphasic infection that turns the ship into a living creature. This is all above the Rubidoux’s ability to study or manage, so we’re going to take this problem, and pass it off to better suited hands. It’s not an ideal resolution in my eye, but it’s the only one that makes sense. 

Part of me dislikes not being able to handle the situation. But the other part of me isn’t so ego driven that I can’t go another day without handling it myself. I’m big enough to admit when I’m in over my head, and this is starting to scale beyond what we can handle. Had this been Rigelian small pox? Sure. But this? Who knows. It’s hard to tell where the black market weapons ended and this began. Was it accidental? Or intentional? Did they know what would happen when they started to play with this stuff? Or just ignorantly grabbing whatever they could as long as they thought they could ruin someone else’s day with it?

Part of me wonders who the bigger monsters are here. Them for playing with weapons and science they didn’t understand? Or me for wondering if the Triangle is better off without them and whatever is affecting them.

The intercom chimes.

“Go ahead?”

“Captain. We’re all set. But the Chief says we’ll lose up to 30% of our power on the bottom most decks.” Commander Kael said from the bridge. 

“Understood. I’ll be out in a moment.” A pause. “Computer. Amend report to just before the intercom paged me.”

“Report amended.” The computer replied.

“Save and file.”

A series of chirps indicate the work is done with a non verbal audio queue. With that sorted, Tiberius rose from his chair, and strode into the bridge. His staff all turned to eye him for a moment as he did and he gave them all confident nods.

“Right. I think we’ve overstayed our welcome to this particular little shop of horrors. Deploy the tractor beam.”

A conical beam of writhing blue light consisting of magnetized gravitons latched onto the infect D’Ghor ship, slowly drawing it towards the Rubidoux. 

“Helm, plot our course.”

“Course plotted, sir.” Thorne turned back to him and said. Tib gave her a nod, “Computer, open a channel to the whole ship. He waited for a confirmatory series of digital chirps to stop.

“This is your captain speaking. We’re going to conduct a warp tow. We’re going to maintain as high a warp factor as possible. As a consequence we’re going to lose up to 30% of our power on our lower decks. This will mean that safety is our watchword. Always move with a buddy, and report anything dangerous as soon as you can. Buckle in people, this could get choppy.”

Tib canceled the channel and turned back Thorne. “Send it.”

The Rubidoux’s warp drive whined with notable extra strain as it formed a bubble around not just its own hull, but the klingon ship in tow as well. Time and space hesitated for a moment in an awkward ballet as the physics tried to sort itself until suddenly Alcubierre’s solution won out, and the ship hurtled off at over a thousand times the speed of light. 

The ship was following a path that saw it conducting a series of micro jumps. Measured to minimize exposure to any populated systems and prevent contamination. But also to reduce overall strain on the warp manifolds and prevent the ship’s engine troll from making her way to the bridge to break everyone’s knee caps, Tib’s included. He liked his knee caps just fine and unbroken, thank you very much.

At the third micro jump the ship and the infected vessel fell into normal space and time just as they had the previous two. Except this time they had company. An uninfected D’Ghor ship. It blocked their path and the Hopkins was still too distant to respond. 

“Well. This is awkward. Nothing like getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar.”

“I know just enough basic to understand that euphemism. Are you sure they’ll interpret it as us stealing the ship? It’s infected. Who would want it anyway?” Lorena asked. 

Tib wanted to beam proudly, but kept a careful expression of neutrality for her sake. Couldn’t have the XO knowing you were proud she got your first reference. “It’s pirates. They could be thinking any number of things. That’s the problem though. They’re here, and they’re thinking. Both are unideal situations. Worse still when paired together.”

“So what do we do?” Lorena voiced for everyone on the bridge, all eyes turned to Tib and for a brief moment, he was reminded of his attempts at the Kobayashi Maru. The oppressive uncertainty of it. The weight of all those lives that rode on his decisions. He knew that no matter what he did here, someone was inevitably going to wind up hurt. Whether it was his crew, or theirs. He needed to decide here and now which side that was. And how that looked.

“Open a channel.” 

“Channel open.”

“This is the starship Rubidoux. We’re responding to a level 3 medical emergency and we need to get by you.” 

He paused, waiting for a reply, yet none came. He turned to look to Lorena for a moment. “Thoughts?”

Her chromatophores flickered nervously. “I don’t like it. They’re probably trying to decide how they want to proceed. I’d be alert to an attack.” 

“Sir, I feel compelled to remind you that with our current power configuration powering shields and weapons would significantly deplete our warp drive. We wouldn’t be able to tow the infected vessel at warp.” Lt. Vossk said from his station. 

Tib stroked the short beard at his chin thoughtfully, studying the Klingon ship. They hadn’t fired yet. Maybe that was an opening. If it was, he’d take advantage of that. 

“You’re no doubt wondering why you’ve lost contact with this ship and it’s crew. If that’s the case, allow to sate your curiosity.” Tib turned to Vossk, “Send them a copy of some of Mr. Venrith’s medical files on our patients if you’d please.”

The saurian science officer gave him a confirmatory nod when the packet transfer finished. Silence still from the opposing ship, but they still hadn’t fired yet. Tiberius would take it as a continued sign of positivity. It was all he had the choice to do. If he messaged for help it might signal weakness. He needed to scare them off with the threat of what this thing was doing to their own people. The Rubidoux certainly wasn’t going to scare them off on her own merits. No, if anything would work, it was the threat of being changed into whatever the chrysali in the makeshift triage area were slowly converting the former crew of the previous ship into. 

“Ms. Thorne, back us off, gently. Make it look like your hand slipped on the the controls. Let’s see if we provoke a response.”

“Sir is that wise?” Lorena asked, anxious patterns flashing across her neck and cheeks. 

“No? But I don’t see we have much choice. Our only option at the moment is to move. We’re outgunned. And in our current state we’re mostly set to run. So we may as well try and run and test our luck. Besides, I bet these guys are just as worried about getting their own ick on them as they are trying to stop us. That won’t be an easy task.”

Tib paused contemplatively. “And why make it easier on them. Tactical, can you swing the infected vessel about in front of us and use it as a shield between them and the Rubi?”

Jel’kan bellowed softly in his throat and nodded. “At once.” His talons tapped at his console with neat, sharp clacks. A few beats later the form of the infected vessel swung slowly around till it blocked the view of the other D’Ghor vessel. At this close range, Tib could make out the infection spreading. Like a snake shedding skin, and the younger skin showing through. He wondered how much that analogy would hold when the vessel finished its own metamorphosis. 

“The D’Ghor are backing off to a safe distance but they aren’t leaving.”  Jel’kan reported. 

Tib stroked his beard thoughtfully, squinting at the screen as he studied the information. “That’s ok. You’re curious, and you want what we have, but you’re also shy, because you know what kind of fire we’re handling here. You don’t wanna get burned do you?” he asked of the view screen in a soft voice.

“Sir, who are you whispering to?” Lorena asked.

He turned, and smiled at his XO sheepishly. “Oh no one. Just letting my innie thoughts be outtie thoughts. The important part is we’ve learned a lot from this interaction but we shouldn’t overstay our welcome. Ms. Thorne. If you don’t mind, let’s be on our way. Cautiously.”

“Aye sir, setting course as cautious speeds.” 

The Rubidoux edged her way around the curious D’Ghor ship at half impulse, using the infected vessel as a make shift tower shield to block any potential attacks or advances. Once the Rubidoux got around their interceptor, they poured on the speed. Pushing to full impulse, and then stepping up to warp 1 and scaling up to 5. The hull groaned occasionally and a few yellow state alarms popped up. Tib’s crew read them off and assigned teams to deal with issues as they cropped up, doing their best to put them down. It was tense, and he couldn’t lie, he’d have been happier without anyone coming along to sniff them out. However, there was a chance they could get through this without any unnecessary unpleasantness. 

“You’re hoping to get to the Hopkins without having to engage the D’Ghor aren’t you?” Lorena said, mirroring his own thoughts.

“I’d like to yeah.”

“You obviously have a plan for if they do?”

“Yeah. Swing back and pray. The closer we can get to the Hopkins, the better off we’ll be all around.”

“What do you think the odds are that they’ve picked up the Hopkins?” Lorena asked.

“Well, considering that the rendezvous is outside the triangle, pretty unlikely for the most part, which gives us an advantage.”

“The Hopkins is a research and medical vessel. I doubt they’ll be much tactical help.”

“True. But more ships always has a way of convincing someone to rethink their life choices even if they might hold a tactical advantage. You can only shoot at one ship accurately at a time. Splitting attention and fire can leave you vulnerable. At least, that’s my hope.”

Lorena frowned with a nod. “Not the best plan, but it’s better than fighting on our own.”

“Agreed.”