Captains’ Log: Episode One, Scene Four

 Gav Neroon turns to Captain Ji’Ghettorii and says in a low voice:

“That’s all well and good, Captain, but we don’t carry any torpedoes.” 

Which is true. The ASCLEPIUS is a medical starship and only armed with low powered phaser arrays for defensive purposes. Phasers could be used to reduce the outpost to slag, but that would take considerable time and stress on the ship’s phaser banks.

Ji’Ghettorii give his exec a knowing smile, then turns towards his chief engineer.

“Chief Dylan, do you have any ideas?” He asks.

Tanner Dylan turns from his engineering master display to face his captain. “I’ve been scanning the station to see what we have to work with, sir.” He says. 

Gav stands and walks to stand behind the engineer. “Can’t we just overload her power plants?” he says as he crosses his arms across his barrel chest.

Tanner shakes his head: “The outpost has a couple of small fusion reactors, but mostly gets her power from her solar collectors. A deliberate overload and containment failure would do a lot of damage but wouldn’t obliterate the station; the reactors are deliberately far from the habitats sections for just that reason. And I am assuming that the utter destruction of the infected sections is the goal here?”

Gav grunts and nods: “That would be the correct assumption, Chief.” 

“Then I think … ,” Tanner drifts off as his station beeps with the end of an analysis cycle, “I can arrange a suitably pyrotechnic decommissioning of the outpost.”

Dylan taps some commands into his console and his display updates with structural diagrams of the station. By now the Captain has also joined the Exec at the engineers station. Dylan turns to them both and begins his presentation:

“In the station’s cargo bays are containers of molecular aluminium and molybdenum among other ores and materials from local asteroid harvesting. I propose using the transporter arrays and replicators to disassemble these supplies, then use the same transporter arrays to evenly distribute these materials in an aluminium-molybdenum-oxide cloud throughout the station's habitat sections. Then I will trigger an overload of the station's fusion reactors to cause multiple discharges within the habitat sections via her EPS grid. This will result in an overpressure detonation in all the sections of the habitat simultaneously.” 

Dylan’s engineering display illustrates the process as he describes it, ending with an impressive explosion and disintegration of the entire outpost. 

Gav's look at the chief engineer is somewhat dubious. “Was your engineering thesis on thermobaric weapons?”

“Oh, no sir.” Dylan responds with a grin, ” ‘Controlled atomic arrangement via replicator-transporter hybrid use’ was my Engineering thesis at StarFleet Academy. I wanted to see if it was possible to lay large structural ship elements in a more efficient and consistent way using replicators and transporters. But finding out that I could make big explosions was a happy accident.”

Gav turns to look at the Captain. Ji’Ghettorii returns a wry grin, then asks the engineer: “What do you need to make this happen?”

Dylan has his answer ready: “I’d like to beam over to the ARATUS. From there I can use the probe drones to access and modify the stations’ power grid, as well as sync her transporters with ours. The ASCLEPIUS can use her transporters to atomize the materials we need; they’re more efficient. We can use our replicator arrays to manage the integration into the metastable intermolecular composite and then link the transporter arrays to distribute the composite to every compartment.”

Gav frowns, grumbles: “Sounds like a lot of moving parts. What are the failure points?” 

Dylan takes in a breath, thinking, then raises a hand to tick off points on his fingers: “One: The station’s transporter grid is older tech, ours and theirs may not sync well. I recommend bringing the ASCLEPIUS closer to the outpost to lessen signal decay. Two: If the mixture isn’t correct, there won’t be so much a detonation as a slow and vicious burn. Honestly I don’t think that’s a problem because it’ll still be a plasma reaction at several thousand degrees which should still serve our purposes? But I still want a big boom. Three: The ARATUS will need to stay on station right up to the final countdown, so she’ll be in harm's way if anything goes wrong in the setup. Four: The resulting detonation will be … energetic. Not as big as a nuclear or matter-antimatter containment failure, but almost as powerful. Both the ASCLEPIUS and the ARATUS will need to bug out. Fast.”

Gav rolls his eyes, then looks to his Captain. Dylan wonders if either is telepathic, as the silent discussion between captain and exec happens without informing him anything. 

The Exec then turns back to Dylan and says: “Very well Chief, make it happen.”

The Captain turns to the communications officer: “Lieutenant Hyrys, please coordinate with Chief Dylan on synchronizing our transporter systems with those of the outpost. Their effectiveness is paramount to this operation.” 

The Bajoran communications officer nods in acknowledgement, and stands with a PADD to join the engineer at his station.

—-

Deirdre Lipton ponders the update to the mission plan she has just received from the executive officer, but only for a few moments before she activates the comms to the containment module and starts issuing orders to the contact team. There’s a palpable sense of relief in the movements of the contact team along with the urgency of a pending massive explosion to propel their activities; They began securing laboratory tests in progress and samples for transit and packing away tools. Dee makes certain the drones are recalled and a set prepared for the chief engineer’s purposes.

She is reviewing the contact teams’ efforts when she hears the distinctive sounds of an incoming transporter beam. Tanner Dylan steps off the pad of the runabouts transporter system. He looks around and spies Dr Lipton at her erstwhile workstation.

”Hiya Doc,” he says cheerfully and waves. Dee smiles back, enjoying his youthful energy and cheer. 

She waves a hand at the rest of the runabouts habitation deck.

”Welcome to my secret laboratory,” She says, “Have a seat and take a number.”

Tanner Dylan looks around in confusion for a moment, then gets the joke, gives Dee a grin, and sets up at a station across from her in the habitat. After a few minutes the recovered drones lift off from their charging pads in the containment module. They then float thru the airlock and into the station. Off to set up the huge boom the young chief engineer promised. 

The voice from the containment team lead draws Dee’s attention from the chief engineer’s machinations.

“We’re all set here, Doctor,” he informs her. She sees that the contact team have locked down everything in the containment module and are strapping themselves into seats in preparation. She opens her own comms line to the team.

“Great work, gang. Relax and wait for the countdown.”

She hears the Captain ask Dylan for a status report.

The chief engineer clears his throat before responding: “Captain. The aluminum and molybdenum supplies have been beamed aboard the ASCLEPIUS, and the transporter buffers have been linked with her heavy duty replicators. I’ve completed the setup of the local transporter array to sync with the ASCLEPIUS’ transporter arrays. Lieutenant Hyrys, can you confirm the communication links are working?”

Dee hears the Bajoran lieutenant reply: “Yes chief, systems are synced and appear to be working at peak efficiency.”

Dylan nods in acknowledgement. “That’s great. I’ve started modifying the EPS conduits and removing the safety interlocks on the stations’ fusion reactors.”

“How much more time do you need, Chief?” The captain asks over their open channel.

“Just a couple more minutes captain,” The young man replies.

Dee turns to the flight chief: “Costes, we good to fly?”

Costes turns from his command chair and gives her a thumbs up. He is already strapped in, and she can see the command consoles of the runabout lit up and in flight mode. “Ready and waiting, Doc!” He says. 

“Beginning matrix formation and distribution,” Dylan says. His voice holds a sliver of tension, but also excitement. Dee can see a diagram on his displays of the outpost station and a blue-green glow begins to form in the outpost chambers. The glow peaks in the innermost habitat sections, then spreads to the connecting chambers, then their connecting chambers and so on. 

A few minutes later the chief engineer says over the open coms: “Lieutenant Hyrys? Please boost the Asclepius’ transporter sync rate. The local grid is dropping in efficiency.”

Another minute passes and he says: “Good, we’re back up to expected formation rate. We need to get the entire outpost filled with the metastable matrix before parts of it start precipitating out.” 

He turns to another display. One Dee can’t decipher from her vantage point. He continues with his monologue as he works:

“EPS conduits are … primed. Only ninety percent, actually, the remainder aren’t functional to begin with. Nothing I can do about them. I am beginning a runaway build up in the outposts fusion reactors … now. It should peak by the time the metastable matrix is complete. Then we overload the EPS conduits and get the hell out of here.”

Dee looks at Costes and sees he is watching the chief engineer intently, waiting for a signal to cut them loose from the outpost and get them the hell out of harm's way. Dee decides this is a good time to relocate to the copilot’s chair and straps herself in.

They hear a rising tone from the chief engineers’ station.

“That’s just the reactor’s safety buffers counting down,” Dylan says absently but Dee appreciates that he has the presence of mind to inform him what the tone is for. Not knowing exactly what it meant would make her rising tension worse. 

Costes turns to face his controls. They all feel the thrum of the runabouts reactors power up and the distinct hum of impulse engines spooling up.

She realizes Dylan is still standing at his station. The only place left to sit is at the rec table she had vacated moments before. 

On the other side of the runabout’s hab section from where the engineer had setup his displays.

”Godspeed, ARATUS.” The captain tells them over the open coms. 

“Maybe you should take a seat, Chief?” She asks Dylan as the runabout’s engines uptick in their thrumming. Even with inertial compensators, they might be in for a rough ride. The young man shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the critical displays of matrix distribution and power-grid levels. 

“Can’t. Gotta time this just right.” He says.

”Matrix transfer complete,” They hear Lieutenant Hyrys report over the open coms.

“Helm, execute maneuver!” They hear the captain order the ASCLEPIUS’ helm.

“Triggering EPS conduit failure cascade!” Dylan shouts. “Get us out of here!”

And things start to happen very quickly after that:

Costes doesn’t acknowledge the order, just triggers his preprogrammed maneuvers. The ARATUS shudders as magnetic clamps disengage from the outpost hull and Dee watches a display as the inner airlock of the containment module slams shut at the same time. An instant later the impulse engines roar to full power and the ARATUS leaps away from the outpost. Dee watches as Dylan is knocked off his feet even as he tries to rush to the seats on the other side of the runabout’s hab deck. He slides towards the rear of the section from the G forces that leak through the runabout’s inertial dampeners, but catches the edge of the bench seating’s legs and manages to hold on as the ARATUS’ accelleration pushes them all towards the rear of the craft.

Seeing Dylan is safe for now, Dee switches her console view screen to an aft view. At first nothing much seems to happen to the outpost as it recedes away from them, but she notes a brighter than before glow from the few windows and observation ports in the habitat sections. Was that from the metastable matrix? She wonders. Then there is a flash in those windows that reminds Dee of ancient chemical lights used in photography. In the next instant every window, every seam in the outpost’s hull bursts outward in jets of energetic combusting thermobaric fire. Before her brain can think: “But there’s no such thing as an open flame in space,” the outpost seems to expand in every direction simultaneously. To her perspective it appears like the station is suddenly and rapidly hurtling towards them, even as her rational mind knows it’s actually coming apart in every direction at once. Then she sees the rather hefty chunk of solar collection array spinning in their direction.

“Costes!” She has a moment to shout before the errant array of solar panels slam across the ARATUS’ shields. The runabout tumbles as a cloud of debris cascades around and past them. A warning siren sounds in the cockpit, but Dee checks and the only damage is to the deflector shields.

Costes laughs as he easily rights the runabout’s course and shouts: “¡Y allos vamos!”

The runabout’s acceleration quickly overcomes the nearly instantaneous speed of the outpost’ detonation and nothing more threatens the small craft as it speeds away from the expanding cloud of debris and destruction that had once been outpost 7291.

Dee unbuckles herself and goes to check on Dylan, who has pushed himself up into a seated position now that the excess G forces have dissipated. She quickly checks him over and sees no immediate injury though he is breathing fast and hard. She notes the stunned look in his eyes. She then helps him sit on the bench at the rec table and starts a more thorough scan of his vitals using her medical tricorder.

“Damn that was fun,” Tanner Dylan starts to giggle like a giddy teenager. She can’t help but smile as well.

”Yes that was … exciting for a moment,” she says with relief as her tricorder confirms the chief engineer to be in perfect, if slightly stressed health.

”Can …” He stops to swallow the flutter in his voice, “Can you play that back again? I want to see exactly how it happened.”

Dee looks forward and see’s the ARATUS is already lining up to land on one of the ASCLEPIUS’ docking pads on the dorsal side of her secondary hull nestled in between her warp drive nacelles. Once secured the pad will descend into the ASCLEPIUS’ hull into the dedicated runabout hanger. 

“Sure thing,” she tells him, “but let me make some popcorn first.”

The ARATUS is barely lowered into the runabout hanger as the ASCLEPIUS changes course. Her warp nacelles glow brightly with sub space altering power and she dashes away in pursuit of the unknown ship.

-end act one-

Captain’s Log: Epsiode One, Scene Three

 The answer condenses out of the cloud of probabilities a few hours later.

”It’s a microorganism,” Dee Lipton reports to the captain and command staff over coms. “One of frighteningly simple purpose.”

She pauses for dramatic effect, then continues: “It’s the ultimate reducer.”

“Refresh my microbiology education, doctor,” the captain says, “a reducer?”

T’Lara takes her que: “Reducers are organisms that, via their inherent biological processes and lifecycles, break down complex organics into compounds that are more easily consumed and otherwise utilized by other organisms in the ecology. Many Terran insects serve this purpose, as do fungi, molds and other colony lifeforms.”

“What’s with the pink mist then?” Tanner Dylan interjects.

Dee is ready for the question. “That is what’s left of the crew and passengers onboard the outpost. The final life-state of the microorganism is this:” she says as she pushes captured microscopy images and video to everyone’s screens. The pink mist is a cloud of tiny bubbles, each with a morsel of organic material at its core. They float in the ambient air currents, bumping into each other. They almost look embryonic. 

“After our mystery super reducer has done its work, it has created these aerosolized packages of organics. There’s no chemical activity in the bubbles; they’re not gestating or growing or anything. They’re floating inert snacks.”

“For what?” Merrith S’Roke asks, “Some other life form to come along and scarf them?”

“We’ve no idea,” Dee responds, “Something we haven’t seen yet. In most ecosystems a microorganism like this will have natural limitations: environmental factors, physical barriers, other microorganisms and so on. Without anything to prevent its functions, it runs wild and unopposed until it run out of other organics to process, then starves itself out.”

“Hell of a weapon,” Gav grumbles, “Turn it loose on your enemy, then return when it’s done and consume what’s left.”

“Is it still active? The original microorganism?” Captain Je’Ghettorii asks.

”We’re actively looking for that now,” Dee informs them and switches her image stream to a different channel. “We’ve replicated a Canary and it’s on its way into the station.”

The ‘Canary’ is in fact not a bird. It is an artificial life form, without sentience or sapience so it cannot experience pain or suffer. Designed so bioreactivity testing can be done ethically. Assembled by a replicator, it has a known lifespan which aids in detecting life-affecting situations faster. This Canary is riding exposed in a tray carried by one of the drones. Streams of data continuously update on the status of the Canary’s life signs, looking for any telltale of infection, affliction or impact upon it.

“It looks like a Tribble,” Gav comments. 

Dee distinctly hears someone on the channel say: “Awwww?”  

“Captain,” T’Lara speaks up, “We have internal logs from the outpost now. I have found something.” The science officer takes over the shared data window and a recorded stream from the outposts internal security sensors takes center stage. 

Two figures are standing in a hallway next to a hatch to another room.

Their postures are relaxed and casual.

The woman's clothes imply command staff in their lines and cut.

The man’s clothing is more utilitarian and he has various pieces of equipment on his belt.

They appear to be conversing amiably.

It all happens very quickly: 

They both pause as if they suddenly have nothing else to say. 

Their postures slacken. 

The woman’s head rolls back, and she begins to topple backwards, but never hits the ground as her body seems to boil into ruddy smoke that becomes a pink mist.

Her uniform crumples to the deck, empty. 

The man lifts a hand up to look at it, watches it disintegrate into ruddy smoke before also collapsing in a stream of pink mist. 

His clothing and gear clatter to the deck. 

Sitting next to the science officer an ensign wearing the same science-blue uniform gasps, chokes and gags at the spectacle. She quickly covers her mouth with both hands and runs for the nearest disposal chute and retches violently. T’Lara watches the ensign long enough to confirm no action on her part is needed and returns her attention to the logs playing back. 

The rest of the bridge crew sit silently, stunned. Dee hears Costes hiss “Dios!” From his station at the runabouts controls.

T’Lara lets the gruesome scene replay, then manipulates the focus to zoom in upon the man’s hand and face as he disintegrates. The expression on his face is vacant, almost serene, as his hand evaporates into pink mist and the reaction continues up his arm and across his body at which point he collapses to the deck before evaporating entirely. Only his clothing and items hung from his tool belt remain.

Dee struggles to find her own voice: “I’ve never seen anything move that fast.”

”It has to be something weaponized,” Gav growls, “How else could it work so quickly?”

”Doctor,” T’Lara’s calm breaks through to Dee’s stunned brain, “His expression. What do you make of it?”

Dee tries to focus, regain her clinical distance. It isn’t easy. She finally gets the gears in her head working again: ”He appears to be in a dissociative state. Perhaps our microorganism attacks the nervous system first. Neither of them appear to be in pain.”

The ensign returns to her station next to T’Lara, chagrined.

”I apologize, sir,” she stammers, “I wasn’t prepared to see something like that happen.”

T’Lara turns to face the ensign. “Science requires sufficient focus and detachment, Ensign Brandis, so as not to miss vital details or fail to apply procedures properly.”

The ensign looks down. “Yes sir,” she says.

T’Lara looks her over a moment, then says: “Mental discipline comes from facing challenges, Ensign. Let us resolve to make you stronger from this experience. I recommend you plan to meet with the ships’ counselor when time permits. Lieutenant Kerric can help you process this experience.”

T’Lara turns back to her station. ”I myself shall also be making an appointment with the ships’ counselor,” she says as much to herself as to her assistant.

“T’Lara,” the captain says, “Prioritize finding out where and how this microorganism outbreak started aboard the outpost.”

”Yes sir” T’Lara says. She and her assistant get to work scanning more of the station's logs.

The canary lived. Dee had forgotten about it while they had all watched the horrible logs of the station’s personnel dying and becoming pink clouds of pre-packaged organic micro balloons. She had half expected to turn back to the Canary’s lifesigns only to have discovered it had evaporated in an eye blink when nobody was watching. 

“A watched Canary never croaks”, She quipped in her mind. It was a joke one of her teachers had made during her training. 

The Canary made a complete trip through the habitat sections of the outpost, which were the ‘mistiest’ portions of the structure. Then a circuit of the command deck, then the engineering deck, then through the cavernous cargo decks. It didn’t break a sweat, feel a chill, or exhibit any signs of an infection or affliction the entire time. It expired exactly on time with its original control values. It never caught anything. It was brought back to the containment module and dissected and analyzed down to its molecular structure. It was never affected by any biological process that wasn’t expected.

“Captain,” she later announced to the command team after double checking the autopsy results, “I think it is safe to assume that there are no longer any active macro- or micro-biologicals on the station. The infection seems to have burnt itself out completely, and taken everything else with it.”

“Captain,” T’Lara calls from her station, “There is evidence that another ship was here and left before we arrived.”

The science officer again takes over the main screen of the bridge, and Dee also gets a smaller window of the view from her location on the runabout. What plays is an external sensor log, showing a ship of unfamiliar design dropping out of warp near the outpost. It spends a while there doing nothing obvious, then turns and warps away.

”Sir,” Ensign Brandis speaks up from her station next to the science officer, “I have a visual log of several cargo pallets being beamed off the outpost during the timeframe that ship was in close proximity.”

“That could have been the perpetrators, returning to recover their delivery tool for the microorganism,” Gav says to the Captain.

”Or some hapless thieves, thinking to steal while thinking nobody was home,” Captain Je’Ghettorii says, “They could be carrying the infection without knowing it.”

The captain then turns to the main view screen: “Doctor Lipton, have you got everything you can get from the outpost?”

Dee thinks furiously for a few moments. There’s nothing really else they’re going to get from the outpost. They have the station's logs, they have samples of the aerosolized organics safely stored. They could spend weeks pouring over every inch of the outpost and still not find anything useful or meaningful.

”Yes Captain, I think we’ve got all we’re going to get from here,” she tells him.

”Good. Pack up your team and prepare to evacuate. We have to destroy the outpost and pursue that ship,” Captain Je’Ghettorii says.