Star Trek: Distant Horizons

##########

"Unexpected Illness"

Previous post: "Operative Questions" by David and Rachel

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"Fear is the mind-killer."

- Lady Jessica Atreides

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1300

Following a request from Doctor T'Lara, the Native American stepped into Sickbay to find the Vulcan/Romulan hybrid hard at work, poring over data displayed on the large wall screen.

"Welcome aboard the ANUBIS, Doctor," Erik began but was swiftly interrupted by the CMO’s no-nonsense tone.

"The ANUBIS have have a severe medical problem on its hands," T'Lara stated bluntly.

Morningstar quickly scanned the displayed data and identified several markers associated with the 190 Terrans recently brought aboard. "What’s wrong with them?"

Before T'Lara could answer, Sonja Paquette, the ANUBIS' Chief Engineer, burst into Sickbay. "Mind telling me what’s so damn important that I had to leave a plasma junction wide open to come here urgently?"

"My apologies, Lieutenant Commander," T'Lara offered. "When the Terrans were beamed aboard the ANUBIS, were all the biofilters for the transporter systems fully operational?"

"Of course, they were," Sonja huffed, then hesitated, reconsidering her hasty response. "They should have been," she amended, glancing at Captain Morningstar. "The ANUBIS had just been pounded into next week by those nightmarish Lokustaar. Most of the controls in Main Engineering were sparking like it was a New Year's celebration. So, yeah, maybe something could have slipped through the biofilters."

T'Lara turned to Erik. "Captain, with your permission, I would like Lieutenant Commander Paquette to run a full diagnostic on the transporter system, including all biofilters."

Erik rubbed the back of his neck. "I have a feeling I’m not going to like this. What exactly is going on?"

"I was reviewing the medical files of the 190 Terrans rescued from the Yautja training facility," T'Lara explained. "An unusual pattern of neurological degradation has been detected in a handful of patients."

"They were plugged into a neuro-matrix that kept them in a constant state of survival," Sonja groaned in frustration. "Sofia already figured that out. Well, she did before she was so abruptly transferred," the fiery Scottish redhead turned to the Captain. "By the way, I am not one bit happy about that."

"I wasn’t happy about it either," Erik admitted calmly.

"I’m not saying that Doctor Andersson failed to identify this issue," the Vulcan/Romulan hybrid clarified. "I am simply stating that she may not have had the opportunity to examine this more closely." Turning to the large holographic display, T'Lara highlighted the relevant data. "Some of the patients have reported mild disorientation that gradually progresses into complete mental shutdown. Others are experiencing shared hallucinations,... visions of an unseen predator hunting them. These could be lingering trauma effects from their extended neurological connection to the Yautja Matrix, but I’ve identified something else."

Erik sighed, his shoulders dropping. "I knew I wasn’t going to like this. Go on."

With a press of the controls, the CMO changed the displayed data. "I have identified a set of symptoms that match a rare Romulan neuro-bioweapon. Either one or more of the Terrans had been infected prior to their capture, or they were somehow infected while linked to the Yautja Matrix. Either way, we may be facing a potential neurological plague spreading through the ANUBIS."

The Native American closed his eyes briefly, centring his thoughts before tapping his communicator. "Morningstar to Shar'El."

=/\= Shar'El here. Go ahead. =/\=

"Have the ANUBIS change course to the most remote region currently on sensors. I want the ship as far away as possible from any inhabited system, planets or travel lanes."

=/\= Captain? =/\=

"We may have inadvertently brought a Romulan neurological bioweapon aboard when we beamed up the Terrans," Erik explained. "The ANUBIS is under immediate quarantine until further notice."

=/\= Understood. =/\= The First Officer acknowledged.

The Captain turned back to the Vulcan/Romulan physician. "What do you need from us?"

"First, we need to confirm that this is what we’re dealing with," T'Lara answered.

"Sonja, you and Ani check every transporter system. No Shortcuts. Check and recheck everything. We need to be 100% certain."

"On it," Paquette said, wasting no time as she dashed out of Sickbay.

"What else?" Erik asked.

"I could use Lieutenant Commander Maya’s assistance in confirming that we are indeed dealing with a Romulan neurological bioweapon."

"Of course." Erik nodded. "Morningstar to Maya, please report to Sickbay for an urgent medical research assignment."

=/\= On my way, Captain. =/\= The Shillian replied, sounding oddly enthusiastic. Only Maya could be excited about the possibility of an unknown bioweapon aboard the ANUBIS.

"Lastly, if these symptoms do spread, I will need everyone with even the slightest medical training to assist in sorting and managing the patients."

"I’ll send the word out," Morningstar assured her. "Do your best to figure this out and keep me informed."

"Of course, Captain," T'Lara acknowledged.

--==/\==--

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Counsellor's Office

Stardate: 44355.1320

Erik explained the situation to Counsellor Adriana Lopez, her sister Amanda, and the mother-and-daughter duo of Cristhiane and Christie Smith.

"Of course," Adriana said, quickly standing. "Amanda and I will help in any way we can."

"So will we," Christie added, glancing at her mother, who hesitated but eventually nodded in agreement.

"Please report to Doctor T’Lara at your earliest convenience. She needs to confirm that none of you are carriers of this bug. If you’re cleared, I’m sure she will gladly assign you to the areas where help is needed most."

--==/\==--

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Bridge

Stardate: 44355.1345

The Native American returned to the command deck and made his way directly next to the Caitian FCO. "Where are we?"

"About an hour away from the most remote sector we could find."

"Perfect," Morningstar said, turning to his Chief of Operations. "Lieutenant Stark, once we arrive, bring the ship to minimal power. One, this should make it easier for Sonja'sengineer to make repairs, and two, I want our energy signature to be as small as possible. I do not want us to attack any attention"

"No worries, Captain," Jayson assured. "No one will know we’re here."

"Captain," Ya’Han stepped forward. "Tactical will simply be monitoring the sector, which we’ve already established is empty. I’d like to volunteer my skills to assist the medical staff."

"I was hoping you’d say that," Erik smiled. "Go. T’Lara will be happy to have you."

The Nylaan wasted no time, making her way to the turbolift, her hair already shifting to the pristine white of her medical training.

Back at the central chair, Morningstar dropped into it with a sigh.

"It never ends, does it?" Shar'El half-chuckled.

"Imagine us on some resort planet, enjoying sandy beaches and drinks," Erik mused. "How long would it take before we got bored and started investigating some conspiracy or alien plot?"

"Two... three hours tops." Shar'El grinned. "Guess this is as close to a vacation as we’ll ever get."

"Some vacation..." Morningstar said rolling his eyes.

--==(/\)==--

Francois Charette

Captain Erik Morningstar

Commanding Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

--

"I used to think it was awful that life was so unfair. Then I thought, wouldn't it be much worse if life were fair and all the terrible things that happen to us come because we actually deserve them. So now I take great comfort in the general hostility and unfairness of the universe."

- Marcus Cole, Babylon 5

-=-=-

"Medical Training To The Test"

Previous post: "Unexpected Illness” by Francois

-=-=-

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1400

The doors parted with a faint hiss, and Ya’Han stepped inside, her long hair now a stark white, a visual declaration of her medical proficiency. The sterile scent reminded the Nylaan of the task the Sec/Tac had volunteered for. She was no longer a warrior, but a healer who had come to help as best she could.

Every biobed was occupied, but unlike the usual injuries from combat or hazardous planetary extractions, the patients showed no obvious wounds. Their vitals fluctuated erratically, their pupils dilated despite the dimmed lighting. Some shivered violently, while others lay eerily still.

At the center of it all stood Lieutenant Commander T’Lara, her expression as impassive as ever. She moved between stations with calculated efficiency, scanning results, adjusting treatment protocols, and issuing orders with precise, clipped instructions.

When she finally addressed Ya’Han, it was without looking up.

"I anticipated your arrival, Lieutenant."

It was not a greeting, merely an observation, delivered with the unwavering detachment of someone who processed everything as data points in a larger equation. When her dark eyes finally met Ya’Han’s, there was no warmth, only assessment.

"The condition of the Terrans remains inconclusive, but initial symptoms suggest an active neurological disruptor, possibly engineered. Testing is underway to determine its origin and full effect. However, we do not have the luxury of waiting for confirmation before proceeding with containment."

Ya’Han took a moment to process. This was not a combat simulation or an active battle zone, this was about saving lives, so she took in a long, deep breath.

[/\] [/\] [/\] [/\] [/\]

FLASHBACK

[/\] [/\] [/\] [/\] [/\]

Setting: NYLA IV, Imperial Palace Courtyard

Stardate: 16031.0630 (Age of 9)

In the early morning as the sun rose over the horizon and its light bathed the Imperial Courtyard, most girls of the age of 9 would have been dreaming of cakes, dolls or of running barefooted through a wide-open field. As the daughter of the High Sovereign, she had not been permitted to have such simple and pleasant dreams, nor had she been allowed to still be in bed by the time the sun could be seen over the walls surrounding the lavishly decorated courtyard.

Each morning required Ya'Han and her sisters who had not been yet married off, to be in the courtyard for physical exercises.  Some days the youngest daughter wondered if this had not been one of the reasons why her sisters all seemed to be more than willing and anxious to be given to a man to marry and serve.  For her though, this training had been just another of countless other demands placed on her time and body, demands that she had no say in whether she wanted to participate in or not.  That said, of all the activities she would be forced to take part in, this one had likely been the most enjoyable.

"Deep breaths Ladies," the aged instructor calmly reminded the four young girls standing with their eyes closed, their faces warmed by the rising sun. The woman the sisters only knew as Nan and been their own mother's trainer long before she became theirs, a fact that only made the young Nylaan girls that much more willing to listen to her wisdom and guidance.  "No matter what role you will be asked to take throughout the day, be it a member of the Warrior or of the Medical cast, your ability to control your breathing will always permit you to rise above your emotions as the sun does over this palace."

The moves had become natural to them, not requiring any thoughts to repeat them in perfect sequence and unity. Having been created by mixing specific and unique moves from every cast, only the daughters of the High Sovereign were permitted to learn and practice this. Although it had never been meant to be anything more than a display of physical balance and harmony between the casts, the dance had over the years become a tool for meditation as well as a reminder to the daughters of their need for control over all things.

[/\] [/\] [/\] [/\] [/\]

END OF FLASHBACK

[/\] [/\] [/\] [/\] [/\]

She slowly exhaled before stepping closer to the nearest biobed. The Terran was just lying there, his complexion slightly pale but not yet in distress. His hands trembled intermittently as if his nervous system was struggling with phantom impulses. She scanned the display above him, minor neural inconsistencies, an elevated heart rate, nothing outwardly lethal yet.

"What are the primary indicators so far?" The white-haired Nylaan asked.

T’Lara adjusted the restraint field as another patient jerked involuntarily before settling.

"Subtle dysregulation of autonomic functions. Irregular neuroelectric impulses. Bloodwork shows no known pathogens, but synaptic activity is shifting in patterns that do not align with typical viral or bacterial infections. If my hypothesis is correct, this is not a conventional illness, it is designed to evolve and escalate, with unsettling deadly Romulan efficiency."

Her tone was as cold as the conclusion itself. The term hypothesis was the only barrier between assumption and certainty, but she already understood the stakes. Time was against them.

"A Romulan neurological bio-weapon?" Ya’Han asked, careful not to frame it as a statement.

T’Lara did not confirm. Not yet. Instead, she turned to the next biobed, studying the mild yet unsettling irregularities in another patient's scans.

"Unverified. But all variables point in that direction. Regardless of confirmation, action must be taken now. If I am wrong, we have simply erred on the side of caution. If I am correct, every second we hesitate shifts the balance against us."

Her gaze flickered briefly to Ya’Han’s hair, acknowledging her medical training. But there was no reassurance in her voice.

"You may assist with monitoring neural degradation patterns. Decontamination protocols are already active, but I require additional hands to ensure any fluctuations are logged and analyzed. If you have objections, state them now. There is no time for hesitation."

The unspoken challenge in her words was clear: contribute or step aside.

Ya’Han met her gaze evenly. There was no need for words. She moved to the nearest monitoring station and began analyzing the neural readouts.

T’Lara gave the slightest nod before returning her attention to her work. In Sickbay, there was no room for personal conflicts or past grievances.

Only results mattered.

And the clock was already ticking.

-=-=-

Hanali Han <sectacyahan@gmail.com>

Lieutenant Ya'Han

Chief of Security / Tactical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

"The Waiting Game"

Previous post: "Medical Training To The Test" by Hanali

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Bridge

Stardate: 44355.1415

The atmosphere on the bridge was quieter than usual, the ship operating at minimal power, hidden from prying eyes by the cloaking ablative armor. The tension in the air was almost tangible as the weight of their current situation pressed down on those who remained at their stations.

Seated at the helm, A’Janni’s feline fingers moved swiftly over the controls, his single golden eye locked onto the course ahead. With the ship under quarantine, his orders were clear, get the ANUBIS to the most isolated patch of space available and ensure nothing, or no one, could track them there. The Caitian’s ears twitched in agitation, his usually confident demeanor tempered by the reality of the unknown threat lurking within their own ship.

From the Operations station, Jayson Stark worked silently, his fingers gliding over the controls as he systematically reduced the ship’s power signature. Life support, gravity, and minimal communications were all that remained fully operational. Everything else had been scaled back, ensuring they appeared as nothing more than an unremarkable anomaly on any long-range sensors.

“Almost there,” Jayson muttered under his breath, his focus entirely on his task. A few more adjustments and the ANUBIS would be all but invisible.

A’Janni’s ears twitched once moreat the sound, and he let out a small, dry chuckle. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned that you can make a ship this size practically disappear.”

Jayson glanced up, offering a tired smirk. “It’s not magic, just science. And besides, with the ablative armor, the real challenge is making sure we don’t give off any stray emissions. Heat dispersion, subspace signals, anything that might raise a flag. But we should be good, there is nothing around us for over a full light-year.”

The Caitian nodded, his expression thoughtful as his claws idly tapped against the console. “Good. That means if something does come looking for us, it won’t be by accident.”

Jayson frowned slightly. “You expecting trouble?”

A’Janni exhaled sharply, his ears briefly flattening before perking up again. “Not expecting. Just prepared for it.” He gestured vaguely at the main screen. “We beamed aboard an entire group of Terrans who’d been trapped in stasis for who knows how long. And now we might be dealing with some Romulan bio-weapon no one knows anything about. I don’t like variables. Too many unknowns.”

Jayson nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair. “I hear you. And I don’t like the idea that we might already be compromised. That thing, whatever it is, could be inside anyone. The best we can do is hope that our new CMO knows what she's doing."

For a long moment, the only sound between them was the faint beeping of the consoles. The thought of an unseen, neurological weapon already spreading through the crew was unsettling, to say the least.

“I hate sitting still,” A’Janni admitted as his ears shifted like fine-tuned radars. “Feels like waiting for a storm to hit without knowing which way the wind is blowing.”

Jayson sighed. “Yeah. But until we know more, this is the best we can do. Stay hidden. Stay quiet. Hope for the best.”

A’Janni smirked slightly. “Hope for the best, prepare for the worst?”

Jayson returned the look. “Something like that.”

Their brief exchange ended as the turbolift doors opened, drawing both their attentions toward the returning Commander Shar’El. With twenty minutes or so to go before reaching their destination, the uneasy waiting game continued.

=-=

Jayson Sousa

Lieutenant JG A'Janni

Flight Control Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

Lieutenant Jayson Stark

Chief of Operations

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

"Logic vs Passion"

Previous post: "The Waiting Game"

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1430

Lieutenant Commander T’Lara stood at the central console in Sickbay, her hands moving across the controls with practiced precision. The medical staff worked around her, running scans, administering stabilizers, and logging symptoms, but her focus remained on the data. She did not need to look at the patients, Ya’Han and the others were there for that. T’Lara required only information. Cold, empirical data would determine whether these Terrans carried a death sentence.

She had encountered a variant of the Romulan Neurological Bio-Weapon before. The markers were there, but not in sufficient quantity for a definitive diagnosis. The infection, if it was one, was progressing in patterns inconsistent with prior cases. It was possible the neurological distress was merely a lingering effect of the Yautja’s matrix interface, not a bio-weapon at all. But possibilities did not negate risk.

"Continue isolating genetic variances in the afflicted patients," she ordered without turning, her voice level and precise. "I want a comparative analysis against both the matrix exposure and any known Romulan neurotoxins. Dismiss any inconsistencies."

She caught Ya’Han’s subtle nod of acknowledgment. The Nylaan had medical training, despite her primary designation as Security, and she executed her duties efficiently. A valuable resource, though one that required further evaluation. Just as she was evaluating all of them.

Her gaze flicked momentarily toward one of the biobeds, where Lieutenant Gemma remained under observation. The Intel officer’s physiological profile made her an outlier, her nanites should have repaired any neurological damage. And yet, she remained. More curiously, Lieutenant Zub Enel had not left her side. That was uncharacteristic. A puzzle. And puzzles demanded answers.

Then there was Cristhiane and her daughter Christie. Another set of puzzles required closer investigation, but this was not the time. For a civilian to be rescued the way she was had been problematic at best, again the Vulcan/Romulan hybrid did not believe in coincidences. The daughter had been in the Yautja Matrix, which made her both a patient and a suspect, despite both her and her mother having been medically cleared by the staff.

Another set of results scrolled across her screen. A pattern was forming. She began isolating cases, discarding those that aligned with the Yautja matrix exposure. The remaining variables suggested deliberate infection, either pre-existing before the Terrans' capture or introduced during their recovery. The timing was suspect. T’Lara did not believe in coincidence.

She glanced at Lieutenant Commander Maya, who was already deep in research. T’Lara trusted her to pursue the scientific angle with meticulous detail. But science alone would not suffice. If this was an engineered attack, they needed to account for intent. That meant understanding the source, and the endgame.

T’Lara’s hands never paused as she continued processing results, directing staff, and ensuring the medical team functioned at peak efficiency. The logic was clear: the infection had already reached them. Quarantine was a containment measure, not a solution. If the bio-weapon was active, they had to neutralize it before it spread. If it was something else entirely, they had to determine its nature before they lost anyone.

She would find the truth. She would solve the problem. There was no alternative.

=-=

Dawn Bohr

Lt. Commander T'Lara

Chief Medical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

"Quarantined Sisters"

Previous post: "Logic vs Passion” by Dawn

Setting:  USS ANUBIS, Cargo Bay 6

Stardate: 44355.1600

The cargo bay was a sea of movement, controlled chaos as medical personnel and volunteers rushed between makeshift beds. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptics, the low hum of biobed monitors blending with the murmurs of the rescued Terrans, many too weak to speak above a whisper. Despite the urgency of their situation, Adriana found a strange comfort in the routine of helping others, something tangible to focus on instead of the nagging fear clawing at the edges of her mind.

She and Amanda moved between patients, barely sparing each other a glance as they worked. Every once in a while, though, Adriana caught Amanda watching her... her twin wearing an expression of quiet joy despite their grim surroundings. But as soon as Amanda looked away, Adriana’s concern flickered across her face, the weight of unspoken fears pressing down on her. Counselor Lopez did her best to ignore her feelings and her fears. There was no time for that, but the crushing grip on her soul was relentless. Her sister was here... physically here... looking back at her with real eyes and offering a genuine reassuring smile... but for how long?

Amanda crouched next to one of the cots, speaking in a soft, reassuring voice to Nathan, one of the few Terrans who had been able to physically manifest inside the Matrix. He was sitting up, eyes darting around the cargo bay as if expecting danger to spring from the shadows. His hands twitched in his lap, and Amanda covered them gently with her own.

“You’re safe here, Nathan,” she said, her voice as steady as if she fully believed it. “No more running. No more fighting.”

Nathan’s gaze flickered to Adriana, and for a moment, his lips pressed together as if he wanted to say something. His breath drew shallow as he swallowed hard. Eventually, he just nodded and looked down at his hands.

Amanda stood, dusting off her knees. “He’s still adjusting.”

“Like all of them,” Adriana muttered, finishing an injection on another patient before standing. “Like us.”

Amanda didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed a supply crate and dragged it over, plopping down with a sigh. “You’ve been on your feet for hours. Take a break.”

“I’m fine," Adriana reassured.

“You’re not.” Amanda’s tone was sharper than before, frustration creeping in. “You’ve barely looked at me since we got here. I know you, aside from us being twins, I’ve seen you at your worst, carrying burdens that were never yours to bear. And I’ve seen you at your best, stronger than anyone should have to be. So I know when something is bothering you, and right now that something is about me.”

Adriana clenched her jaw, glancing around the bay to make sure no one was paying attention. She crouched beside Amanda, lowering her voice. “Because if I stop to think about it, to really think about it, I’ll start wondering how long we actually have before something rips us apart again.”

Amanda exhaled slowly, expression softening. “Sis...”

A sudden, choked gasp cut her off. Both sisters turned as one of the Terrans convulsed on their cot, their body seizing violently. The nearby medics sprang into action, shouting orders, their instruments beeping wildly as they struggled to stabilize the patient. A strangled cry broke from his lips, raw and desperate, slicing through the tense air like a blade.

Adriana’s stomach lurched. Was it another side effect of their time in the Matrix, or was this the bio-weapon at work?

Amanda was already moving, grabbing a medkit and pushing past the chaos. “We’ll talk later,” she promised.

Adriana swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, already reaching for another medical scanner. "Later," the Counselor whispered to herself. "What if there is no later?" Her vision blurred as she fought back tears, her breath hitching, chest tightening with unspoken fear.

-=-=-

Marissa Montonera-Lombardi

Lieutenant JG Adriana Lopez

Ship's Counselor & Junior Ambassador

USS ANUBIS

---

"Bio-Weapon Analysis"

(Previous Post: "Quarantine Sisters")

---

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1610

Lieutenant Commander Maya stood amidst the controlled chaos of Sickbay, her focus unwavering despite the subdued tension that lingered in the air. Her eyes, sharp with scientific curiosity, scanned the data readouts projected before her. The possibility of a Romulan Neurological Bio-weapon aboard the USS ANUBIS was both alarming and, to Maya, intellectually invigorating. The challenge lay not just in confirming its existence but in unraveling the complexity of its nature and origin.

For a brief moment, Maya thought of her father, a man who had spent every remaining second of his life trying to save their world. His only reprieve from that relentless pursuit was the effort to get his daughter to safety. Once that was done, he returned to his work, wholly unconcerned for his own survival. His unwavering dedication to solving an impossible problem had clearly been passed down to her, something Maya acknowledged with quiet, inward pride.

Initial assessments had been inconclusive at best. The potentially infected Terrans presented with symptoms that included trembling, disorientation, and vivid recollections of their time within the Yautja training Matrix. These overlapped with the trauma-induced neurological effects expected after prolonged stasis and the intense survival scenarios they had endured. Several patients also reported transient visual and auditory hallucinations, sporadic muscle spasms, and minor short-term memory lapses. Were these lingering aftereffects of the Matrix, or the calculated work of an engineered pathogen? Maya needed to know.

T'Lara, embodying Vulcan pragmatism tempered by her Romulan heritage, had provided data on a similar bio-weapon she had encountered before joining the ANUBIS. Unfortunately, there were too few commonalities for the information to be directly useful. That previously documented agent used aggressive neurolytic proteins to rapidly disrupt synaptic transmissions, leading to swift neural degeneration. In contrast, if the current threat was indeed a bio-weapon, its progression seemed far more insidious, with a slower onset designed to mimic stress-induced neurological trauma. It was, Maya thought, both ingenious and unsettling.

Repeated attempts to model the suspected bio-weapon under the assumption of natural mutations yielded nothing. Variations in viral drift, protein folding, and metabolic degradation failed to account for the discrepancies. That impasse led her to consider an unsettling alternative: genetic alteration. If the bio-weapon had been re-engineered, potentially by the Yautja, it could explain the divergence. Unfortunately, the Federation's medical and scientific databases contained scant information on Yautja methodologies. Their physiology, technological integration, and capabilities in genetic manipulation were largely uncharted territory.

During her exhaustive review of potential transmission vectors and host-pathogen interactions, Maya's thoughts turned to Gemma. The Intelligence Liaison Officer’s profound connection to the Yautja training Matrix had enabled her nanites to replicate Yautja personal cloaking technology, a feat remarkable in both its success and its cost to her nervous system. Could that same interface have imparted latent knowledge, perhaps subconscious awareness of other Yautja technologies, including a bio-weapon? It was speculative, but not beyond scientific plausibility. Neural imprinting through immersive simulations, while exceedingly rare, had been documented in theoretical studies.

If Gemma retained any residual data, whether encoded within her nanites or imprinted in her neural patterns, it could provide a much-needed breakthrough. The fingers of the Shillian scientist glided across her console, constructing an analysis framework to correlate Gemma’s neurological scans with molecular data from the potentially infected patients. With no physical samples of the suspected bio-weapon available, patient data remained her only viable avenue of investigation.

Time slipped away unnoticed as she worked, each failed hypothesis another step closer to understanding. The process had a rhythm, a methodical cadence of data exploration that fueled her relentless curiosity. It was only when the faint tremor in her own fingers signaled overdue biological needs that she paused. With mild reluctance, she set her analysis on an automated loop, algorithms primed to flag any statistically significant correlations.

Her gaze swept across Sickbay, noting the quiet professionalism of the medical staff. Beneath their calm demeanor lay a shared concern that Maya, engrossed in the scientific challenge, acknowledged only in passing. If the bio-weapon was indeed aboard the ANUBIS, subtle early symptoms could soon escalate into something far more dangerous. The urgency tugged at the edge of her awareness, yet her focus remained firmly on the puzzle before her.

Mysteries demanded solutions. Maya would not stop until she found them, so she stood and made her way to the ILO and her ever vigilant guard, the towering and imposing reptilian Lieutenant in command of the Marines aboard the ANUBIS.

---

Jessica Solarik

Lieutenant Commander Maya

Chief Science Officer

USS ANUBIS

- William Blake (British, 1757-1827)

##########

"A Mother's Duty"

Previous post: "Bio-Weapon Analysis" by Jessica

##########

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Cargo Bay 5

Stardate: 44355.1620

The cargo bay was filled with quiet murmurs and the occasional pained groan of the rescued Terrans.

Christie wiped the sweat from her brow, adjusting a neural stabilizer on one of the patients. Their bodies were weak, their muscles atrophied, and their minds still reeling from their prolonged captivity inside the Yautja stasis pods. She wanted to believe that was all this was. That there was no deeper reason for their suffering. But something gnawed at the back of her mind.

Across from her, Cristhiane worked in silence, carefully monitoring a biobed’s readout. She had been growing increasingly distant ever since the rescue, withdrawn in a way that Christie hadn’t seen in years. Her mother wasn’t worried about the infection spreading through the rescued Terrans. No, she was afraid of something else. Something bigger.

Having decided to push the issue, Christie made her way to her mother, swaying between cots and patients, all along thinking about how she would ask the question that was haunting her. Would she try to be gentle or should she just come out with it?  By the time she reached Cristhiane, the words had already begun to form on her lips.

"You're worried about them coming after us, aren’t you?" Christie finally asked, keeping her voice low.

Cristhiane tensed, but didn’t look up. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Christie scoffed. "You do. The Romulans." She studied her mother’s face, searching for any hint of denial. "You took something from them when we escaped, didn’t you?"

Still, Cristhiane refused to meet her gaze.

"Mom," Christie pressed. "Please."

A long silence stretched between them before Cristhiane finally exhaled, setting down the scanner in her hands. "It wasn’t about taking something, Christie. It was about making sure they didn’t take from you."

(FLASHBACK)

With her heart racing, Cristhiane reached the door of the Romulan lab.

She entered... nothing but the steady beeping of the lab equipment around her could be heard. Her eyes darted to the small vials of serum on the table. This was her chance. Her only chance.

Taking a deep breath, she slid one of the vials into a hidden compartment in her scanner, her hands shaking slightly.

She adjusted her uniform and headed toward the nearest exit, forcing herself to appear calm, to look ordinary. To not look like someone about to betray the Tal’Shiar.

Without looking back, she requested transport to her ship, her scanner clutched tightly in her hands, and disappeared... hoping the Romulans would never connect her to the missing vial.

(END FLASHBACK)

Back in the present, Christie’s stomach twisted. "Mom… what was in that vial?"

Cristhiane shook her head. "I don’t know. I didn’t care. I just..." She hesitated. "I wanted to take something from them. From him. After what your grandfather did to us... what he almost did to you... I needed to make him pay."

Christie swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of where she stood.

The ANUBIS crew had saved them. Had trusted them. If what was happening to the Terrans wasn’t just stasis trauma... if it was something else... didn’t they deserve to know?

But Cristhiane wouldn’t see it that way.

Christie met her mother’s eyes, the space between them stretching wider than it ever had before. "And what happens if they do come after us?"

Cristhiane's jaw tightened. "Then we make sure they regret it."

The idea that nothing in the universe is more dangerous than a mother protecting her child was just that, an idea, but looking into her mother's eyes, and the determination in her expression, Christie believed it more than ever before.

--==(/\)==--

Francois Charette

on behalf of Cristhiane M

Cristhiane Smith

Mother of Christie Smith

Civilian guest

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

=-=

“Tiny Agents”

Previous post: “A “Mother’s Duty” by Cristhiane and Francois

=-=

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1621

Lieutenant Commander T’Lara stood at her usual post, the central console in Sickbay, her hands moving across the controls with practiced precision. As usual, her focus centered on the data. The putative Romulan bio-weapon’s effects on Terrans were still too similar to neurotrauma from prolonged exposure to the Yautja matrix. A rare tension in her chest eked into her consciousness. She recognized it as frustration. Progress was too slow on determining if this malady was fatal or even treatable.

Her gaze flicked momentarily toward one of the biobeds, where Lieutenant Gemma remained under observation. The MACO CO Lieutenant JG Zub Enel had not left the ILO’s side. According to the former CMO’s observations of him, this persistence at the expense of his duties was uncharacteristic. A puzzle. And puzzles demanded answers.

She flicked her braid to hang behind her, swept up a medical tricorder and walked toward the biobed, her face set with determination. Gemma lay unconscious. Her nanites rendered her unscannable. A medical enigma. T’Lara was forced to hope the woman would regain consciousness and help illuminate whether she herself felt she was getting better or worse.

The tall scaly Voth sat calmly near the biobed. True to his warrior training and security instincts, his gaze rose to the CMO’s face as she approached. His head was topped by a bony, complicated crest, but his eyebrows rose perceptably. A look of anticipation. Or of hope that the good doctor would have some insight into Gemma’s condition.

Zub was surprised that instead of Gemma, the new CMO aimed the scanner at him. Her green eyes were intense. There was a firmness around the corners of her mouth. The shadow of a frown drew her eyebrows a fraction closer. She studied her readings silently.

He ventured, “Yes, Doctor?”

She looked directly into his golden eyes. “You are fit for duty. There is no need to remain in Sickbay. Return to your duties, Lieutenant.”

Zub felt a rush of panic. He looked down at the unconscious Gemma.

T’Lara said, “Are you a trained medical practitioner?”

“No, sir.”

“So, you have nothing curative to offer this patient. Sitting next to her has the same effect as sitting at your desk. Sitting at your desk, doing your duty, is how best to help her.” T’Lara knew her logic was sound. She studied the Voth’s reaction to having it stated out loud.

Zub felt a flame ignite in his heart. “I need to be here. She needs me.”

T’Lara frowned in confusion followed by a single raised eyebrow. “I would posit that you *want* to help her. How can you help her better than my highly trained medical staff, modern medical technology and my own skills as a healer?”

Zub’s flame of indignation spread to his face. “I… I feel what she is thinking. I sense her mental state.”

“As a close friend?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But friends are not sensors or trained observers.”

Zub scowled now, the hardening look making his saurian face especially fierce. T’Lara was not afraid. His service record indicated that he could be violent or lethal, but never toward the crew. Rather, quite the opposite.

He said, his deep voice earnest, “I mean I actually feel her. When I touch her. I even caught a memory of hers. I was her, briefly, until I broke contact.”

Commander T’Lara studied the agitated male’s face and body posture. It indicated that to his mind he was telling her his truth. The ‘feeling her’ claim intrigued T’Lara. Had he been affected somehow by close proximity to the matrix’s effects? She raised the scanner again. It warbled and sang its little tune longer this time. She spotted something in the readout.

“Very interesting," T'Lara mused to herself before turning her attention onto the ILO's friend and bodyguard. "Lieutenant Enel, you have nanites in your bloodstream. Not many. A few. How did you acquire them?”

Enel felt his growing irritation with the new CMO evaporate. He looked at his three-fingered hands in surprise. “Nanites? Me?”

She lowered her scanner. “I will take that response to mean you have no idea how these little machines came to be inside you. You were not knowingly injected with them?”

Zub shook his head. He searched his memory. A thought occurred to him. “She and I were injured together. I had open wounds. When she was injured, her blood spattered on me.”

T’Lara considered this scenario. “Transdermal inoculation. Yes. That is possible. Now, knowing about having them, do you think your nanites are interacting with her nanites and that is how you ‘feel’ her thoughts? According to her medical dossier, her nanites communicate using a subspace hyperfrequency, with a very limited range, using her own body's neuro-electric system to boost the signal. That would explain why you need to be in, or very near, physical contact to her to 'feel' her thoughts. Truly remarkable.”

The Voth’s huge shoulders rose to his ears and fell in a massive shrug.

She nodded. “No idea, eh?” She put both hands on her scanner as she thought. “I will need to research this inoculation possibility further. In the meantime, *you* need to return to your duties. That or seek counseling so that you can return to your duties. Am I making myself clear, Lt. Enel?”

Her commanding tone brought the seated Zub to attention. “Yes, sir.”

She stood watching him. Zub glanced down at Gemma. The doctor’s logic was inescapable. They could take care of her just as well without him. He took a deep breath. “Thank you, Doctor.”

She kept watching him to make sure he left. “Just doing my duty. Carry on with yours, Lieutenant.”

His golden eyes rose off the comatose patient to look at her. He nodded, turned away and walked out of Sickbay.

=-=

Dawn Bohr

Lt. Commander T'Lara

Chief Medical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

AND

David Michael Inverso

Lieutenant JG Zub Enel

MCO

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

“Duty is the great business of a sea officer; all private considerations must give way to it, however painful it may be.”

— Horatio Nelson, famous sailor dude

"Listening In"

Previous post: "Tiny Bubbles"

Location: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1625

Darkness did not mean silence.

Within the void of Gemma’s consciousness, voices stirred, one at a time, distinct and unwavering. She had been aware the entire time, listening as Zub and T’Lara spoke over her, their words threading through her awareness like knives carving deep, lingering wounds.

Zub had her nanites inside him.

The realization sat in the pit of her being, a tangled mass of contradiction and uncertainty. And as always, the voices came, each fighting to define what it meant.

Jinx was first as she usually was. Cold, efficient, and unyielding. “This is unacceptable. He is compromised. The nanites are ours and ours alone. No one has the right to carry them but us.”

Anya Petrov was quick to counter, her voice sharp, carrying the weight of her assassin’s pragmatism. “And what do you suggest? Cut them out of him? Kill him? Dispose of the body? No, that would be sloppy. Instead, use this. Manipulate him. His attachment can be exploited.”

Ema Fairchild scoffed, her Oltharian presence radiating disgust. “Cold. Heartless. He stayed because he cares, and you want to use that? Have you no soul?”

Wimdalli, the scientist, the researcher, spoke with measured intrigue. “What if this is an opportunity? His connection to us could be a window into something new. This should be studied, understood. What if his presence strengthens us?”

Kael emerged from the shadows, her tone a whisper laced with cryptic foreboding. “Or does it strengthen the cage while calling it a key? A door swings both ways, and not all who enter mean to leave.”

Arika laughed, reckless and free. “A threat? You all sound paranoid. Maybe, just maybe, this is something different. A bond, a connection worth keeping. When’s the last time someone gave a damn about us?”

Tahlia, the diplomat, measured her words carefully. “Whether intentional or not, this does complicate things. It is not just about what he wants. It is about what we want. Does he truly know us? Any of us?”

Lireen,the explorer, the seeker of experience, sighed wistfully. “And maybe he wants to. Maybe that’s what scares us the most.”

The voices paused, as if the weight of those words pressed upon all of them.

Then came Gabrielle Wolfe, cutting through the stillness like a blade. “It doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t have them. Our blood, our nanites, our burden. It’s ours alone.”

Shinral, ever the protector, gave her own grim assessment. “And yet, what is done is done. The question now is whether we let him keep them or do something about it.”

A quiet stillness filled the space, flickering in and out, unsteady but present.

Then, GAMMA spoke, her voice laced with the static of corrupted data, distant yet near. “Fascinating. An anomaly. Unforeseen. Perhaps… a design flaw?”

The words sent a chill through Gemma’s being. A design flaw? As if she herself were nothing more than a project to be revised, adjusted.

The silence that followed was deafening.

For the first time, no one had a response.

Gemma remained in the darkness, listening, waiting, but no conclusion came.

She was still unsure. And that uncertainty burned deeper than anything else.

=-=

Rachel Jackie Johnson

Lieutenant Gemma

Intel Operative

USS ANUBIS

[The fun is getting to wear multiple disguises and getting to explore multiple personalities and bring them to life. - Jenna Fischer]

-=-=-

"Not The Same White"

Previous post: "Listening In” by Rachel

-=-=-

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1630

The dim glow of biobed monitors reflected off Ya’Han’s stark white hair as she moved swiftly through Sickbay, assisting where she could. The rescued Terrans were in critical condition, their neurological trauma evident in their vacant stares and erratic responses. She had taken on the role of a nurse, doing what she could, though her medical training was far from what was needed to diagnose the cause of their suffering. Was this the lingering effect of the Yautja stasis pods, or had the Romulan neurological bioweapon already begun its insidious work? She lacked the knowledge to make that determination. That was T'Lara's responsibility and that truth gnawed at her. Still, she could help in other ways, she could do something.

That was the difference between now and then.

[/\] [/\] [/\] [/\] [/\]

FLASHBACK

[/\] [/\] [/\] [/\] [/\]

Setting: NYLA IV, near the town of Tossald

Stardate: 17096.1520 (Age of 10)

The smell of ash and charred wood clung to the air, mixing with the sharper scent of burned flesh. The field medical triage camp was a chaotic blur of white-haired healers and black-haired commoners, the latter filling every available cot, many with makeshift bandages wrapped around raw burns and shattered limbs. Ya’Han, barely ten years old, had never seen such suffering up close, and it left a weight in her chest heavier than anything her tutors had prepared her for.

Her father, the High Sovereign, stood apart from the chaos, his piercing gaze fixed on the distant, still-smoking volcano. His concern was not for the people left broken in its wake, but for the destruction of the land, the economic toll this disaster would have on their trade agreements with other worlds. He had barely spared a glance at the suffering masses.

The disappointment in Sho’Kal’s eyes was harder to bear. Her medical instructor had always told her that earning the white hair was only the first step, that it was meaningless unless she proved she could use it. This was the perfect chance, yet hesitation gripped her. She wasn’t ready, wasn’t trained enough. But the healers were overwhelmed. Maybe she could...

"NO!" Ze’Kon’s firm grip on her arm yanked her from the moment. Her father’s aide loomed over her, his voice sharp and merciless.

“Do not disgrace yourself, child. You are the daughter of the High Sovereign. Your hands are not meant to touch these… people.”

Ya’Han’s stomach twisted as she looked back at the suffering masses, at the healers working tirelessly, their exhaustion plain. She had white hair now, but it meant nothing. Her training, her efforts, it was all for show. She would never be allowed to use it for anything that mattered. Not for them. Not for anyone.

Her white hair had barely started to fade back to purple when Ze’Kon pulled her away.

“Your duty is to your future husband. You will heal him and him alone. Never forget your place.”

[/\] [/\] [/\] [/\] [/\]

END OF FLASHBACK

[/\] [/\] [/\] [/\] [/\]

Ya’Han exhaled sharply, pushing the memory aside as she steadied herself. That had been a lifetime ago. She was no longer the child bound by rules designed to keep her powerless. She was no longer a future bride to some greedy Ferengi troll.

She was a Starfleet officer. And here, she could help.

With renewed focus, she approached one of the patients, an older man trembling, lost somewhere between consciousness and delirium. She placed a firm yet gentle hand on his shoulder, her voice calm but commanding. “You’re safe. We’re going to help you.”

His panicked eyes met hers, and for the first time, he stilled.

For the first time, her white hair meant something.

And she wouldn’t let anyone take that from her ever again.

-=-=-

Hanali Han

Lieutenant Ya'Han

Chief of Security / Tactical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

"Ground Zero"

Previous post: "Not The Same White” by Hanali

Setting:  USS ANUBIS, Cargo Bay 6

Stardate: 44355.1700

The crisis that had erupted aboard the ANUBIS had settled into another grim routine. The patient who had convulsed had been stabilized, but not before a wave of unease spread through the makeshift infirmary. The tension in the cargo bay was palpable, a collective fear humming beneath the surface. Was it another unpredictable side effect of their time in the Matrix? Or was it something far worse, another sign that the bio-weapon was taking hold?

Adriana had thrown herself back into the work without hesitation, numbing her thoughts with action. She moved from patient to patient, checking vitals, administering stabilizers, offering quiet reassurances she barely believed herself. Amanda did the same, though Adriana noticed her twin stealing glances at her whenever she thought she wasn’t looking.

Nathan had withdrawn into himself again, sitting rigidly on his cot with his arms wrapped around his knees. He had been quiet before, but now, he barely responded at all. His earlier anxiety shifted into something colder, more distant. Amanda sat beside him, speaking softly, her voice gentle but insistent. Adriana wished she had the time to check in, but every second was consumed by the endless cycle of triage.

“Counselor Lopez.”

Adriana turned at the sound of her name, straightening instinctively as one of the remaining junior medical officers approached. The young man looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and a slightly rumpled uniform. His hands shook as he held a medical scanner in one hand, his expression reflecting deep concern.

“I need you to take a look at this.” He handed over the scanner, the screen flashing with neurological readouts. It took Adriana a moment to process what she was looking at, and when she did, her blood ran cold.

“These patterns…” she whispered, fingers tightening around the device. They were too familiar... hauntingly so. She had noticed odd similarities in some patients' readouts but had dismissed them as being a lingering effect of the neurological link to the Yautja Matrix.

The junior medical officer crossed his arms. “I’ve been running scans on some of the more unresponsive patients. And these neurological patterns...” he tapped the scanner, his voice dropping to a whisper, “...are showing appearing, partially, in almost a dozen patients. But Nathan’s readings… his are the worst.”

Adriana felt a chill creep up her spine. “What do you mean, the worst?”

“I mean, his neural degradation is accelerating, and his neurological scans are showing all of the patterns, not just a few of them. If this is the bio-weapon at work… he might be patient zero.”

Adriana’s pulse pounded in her ears. She turned her gaze toward Nathan’s cot, where Amanda was still speaking to him. But he wasn’t responding. His eyes were unfocused, his breathing shallow. Then, suddenly, he began to violently convulse.

She met Amanda’s worried gaze, and for the first time since their reunion, Adriana felt truly helpless.

"We need to bring him to Sickbay, NOW!" Adriana said, her voice cracking under the weight of the realization that was unfolding before them.

If Nathan was the epicenter of this crisis, then their fight wasn’t over. Not even close.

-=-=-

Marissa Montonera-Lombardi

Lieutenant JG Adriana Lopez

Ship's Counselor & Junior Ambassador

USS ANUBIS

"First Confirmed Case"

Previous post: "Ground Zero"

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1710

Sickbay was already a controlled hive of activity when the doors slid open, admitting Amanda and Adriana at a sprint. Between them, they half-carried, half-dragged Nathan, the young Terran boy’s body wracked with violent convulsions. His breathing was shallow, his muscles seizing in uncontrolled spasms as Amanda struggled to keep hold of him, her face stricken with fear.

“Somebody help him!” Amanda’s voice was raw with desperation, her breath hitched, as she added one final plea. “Please!”

“Bed. Now,” T’Lara ordered, her voice a crisp command cutting through the tension.

Before Ya’Han could even move to clear one, Gemma’s eyes snapped open, her instinctive awareness overriding whatever state she had been feigning. She moved with liquid precision, pushing herself upright. “Mine’s free,” she called out, though the moment her feet hit the ground, her legs nearly buckled. Zub had left her side at T’Lara’s prior instruction, leaving Gemma to sway momentarily before catching herself.

Ya’Han was already stepping in, her red hair signaling her role as security rather than medical. She placed a hand on Amanda’s shoulder, gentle but firm, a reminder to let the professionals work, while simultaneously keeping the immediate area clear. She did not raise her voice, nor did she physically push anyone, yet her presence alone ensured that a respectful perimeter was formed around the biobed as Nathan was carefully laid down.

T’Lara wasted no time. A medical scanner was in her hands before Nathan’s body had fully settled. The cold blue light played across his twitching limbs, his paling face, the subtle but unmistakable discoloration forming beneath his skin... neurological degradation progressing far too rapidly for it to be anything but a bio-weapon at work.

Adriana took an unconscious step closer, her eyes flickering between Nathan and Amanda. Her heart pounded against her ribs, an overwhelming fear clawing at her insides. How close had Amanda been to Nathan in the cargo bay? Had she breathed the same air, touched the same surfaces?

T’Lara’s expression betrayed nothing, but her next words were clipped, precise. “This confirms it. We have our first official case.”

Amanda let out a strangled noise, her fingers gripping the edge of the biobed so tightly her knuckles went white. “Then do something! Help him!”

“We cannot treat what we do not understand.” T’Lara’s reply was calm, but unyielding. “Isolating the pathogen is the priority. Until we know exactly what we are dealing with, any treatment attempt could accelerate the progression.”

Amanda looked ready to argue, to scream, to demand anything, but Ya’Han’s steadying hand remained on her shoulder, grounding her.

“I...” Adriana swallowed hard. “I was with them. In the cargo bay. Right next to him. What if...”

“We will assess risk factors after we have identified the pathogen’s full nature.” It was T’Lara’s voice again, utterly composed, leaving no room for speculation or panic.

Maya, having been quietly running a secondary scan, suddenly stiffened, her gaze fixed on the data before her. “It’s been modified.”

T’Lara turned, arching a single eyebrow in inquiry.

“I compared the genetic markers from the infected nerve tissue,” Maya continued, rapidly pulling up the holographic display. “It aligns with what you anticipated, but there are additional markers here. They don’t match the original Romulan neurological bio-weapon as you described it to me, so I took the liberty to cross-reference these additional markers with other samples we have on file. I found something... the genetic markers match… this.”

She keyed in another sequence, overlaying the genetic data with a sample retrieved from the Yautja blood taken from Gemma's clothes after her extraction. The similarities were undeniable.

T’Lara studied the results, her mind working with Vulcan precision. “Genetic splicing. Likely an engineered mutation to enhance potency and resistance.”

"I still need to run more tests," Maya added. "But from what I am seeing, it looks like the Romulan Bio-Weapon was specifically modified to target Terran neurological networks. My scientific analysis strongly suggests that the Yautja infected the Terrans with a deadly pathogen to, in theory, ensure that they could not be of use to anyone else."

"The Lokustaar," Ya'Han hissed, recalling the horrific details of her time spent with Mordana, one of the shadow race's most dangerous operatives. The woman was ruthless and if the modifications to the bio-weapon were anything like her, the ANUBIS and its crew would soon face a darkness like no other.

Amanda’s expression twisted, tears welling in her eyes. “So what does that mean? Can you save him?” Her voice, as well as her body, echoed with tremors of uncontrollable terror.

“We have what we need to begin.” T’Lara met Amanda’s desperate gaze with unwavering certainty. “Now we focus on treatment.”

The battle against time to find a cure had officially begun.

=-=

Dawn Bohr

Lt. Commander T'Lara

Chief Medical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

##########

"Shadows of Guilt"

Previous post: "First Confirmed Case" by Dawn

##########

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Cargo Bay 5

Stardate: 44355.1720

In the dim glow of Cargo Bay 5, Cristhiane pressed her back against the cold metal wall, her pulse pounding in her ears like distant thunder. The sterile hum of medical equipment surrounded her, a stark contrast to the chaos she and her daughter had just survived. Three years trapped in the unrelenting grip of the Yautja Training Matrix. Three years of nightmares carved into their bones. And now, even in rescue, the shadows of their past refused to release them.

Christie turned toward her, green eyes luminous with unshed tears. “Mom… what if Nathan doesn’t make it?” Her voice cracked, raw with fear so tangible it seemed to settle in the air between them, heavy and suffocating.

Cristhiane dropped to her knees, grasping her daughter's trembling hands. “We won’t let that happen, Christie. We’ll find a way.” She willed conviction into her words, but deep inside, doubt twisted like a knife.

Nathan. The boy who had become Christie’s lifeline in the Yautja Training Matrix. He lay on the edge of death now, his young body ravaged by a Romulan neurological bio-weapon. A weapon that Cristhiane had more than likely stolen. A simple unlabeled vial amongst so many others in a secret lab.

Christie’s fingers clenched tighter. “Mom,” she whispered, her voice a blade against Cristhiane’s conscience. “Is this… because of you? Because of us?”

The question shattered the last fragile illusion.

Cristhiane’s breath caught. A denial burned on her tongue, but the truth, ugly and relentless, clawed its way to the surface.

“Maybe,” she rasped. The word dripped like venom from her lips.

All she had ever wanted was to protect Christie. To shield her from her Romulan grandfather’s twisted mind, from the horrors buried in his bloodstained legacy. But in doing so, had she doomed another innocent life?

Memories crashed through her. Christie, barely four, subjected to experiments no child should endure. Crying, reaching for help that never came. Her grandfather had been a scientist, a monster in a Romulan uniform, who saw his own granddaughter as nothing more than a genetic puzzle to dismantle.

Christie’s tears spilled over, glistening trails down her pale cheeks. “We have to do something,” she choked out.

A sharp pain coiled in Cristhiane’s chest. The guilt was unbearable, pressing down like an iron weight. “I was trying to protect you,” she said, her voice breaking. “Everything I’ve ever done was to keep you safe.”

Christie shook her head, anger and anguish warring in her eyes. “Nathan is dying because of you, Mom! And I don’t know if he’s ever coming back!”

The words struck like a slap.

The room closed in, memories, choices, regrets, all of them screaming at her.

Cristhiane swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to meet her daughter’s pleading gaze. “Listen to me, Christie,” she said, her voice tight with desperation. “Somehow…”

Somehow, she had to make this right.

--==(/\)==--

Francois Charette

on behalf of Cristhiane M

Cristhiane Smith

Mother of Christie Smith

Civilian guest

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

---

"Nasty, Nastier, Nastiest"

(Previous Post: "Shadows of Guilt")

---

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1720

Maya stood before the holographic display, her multifaceted eyes fixed upon the cascading streams of data projected into the air. Her fingers danced across the console, each motion precise, each adjustment yielding further revelations that simultaneously fascinated and troubled her. The complexity of the bio-weapon before her was, from a purely scientific standpoint, nothing short of extraordinary. The convergence of Romulan genetic engineering with the alien intricacies of Yautja biological manipulation presented a conundrum that few, if any, within the Federation had ever encountered. And yet, despite the intellectual allure of the challenge, the stakes were anything but academic.

"I must commend the thoroughness of the data you provided, Doctor T'Lara," Maya began, her tone maintaining the formal precision for which she was known. Her gaze remained locked upon the overlapping genetic sequences displayed before her. "Your earlier assessments regarding the Romulan neurological bio-weapon's structure were both accurate and invaluable in expediting the identification process. That said, the modifications introduced by the Yautja are unlike any previously documented alterations of Romulan genetic constructs. They did not merely enhance the existing framework; they fundamentally reengineered its temporal activation sequence while preserving the integrity of the neurotoxic payload."

With another deft motion, Maya expanded the display. The Romulan base sequence appeared as a stable lattice of green, over which the Yautja modifications pulsed in shifting hues of amber and crimson. "The progression of the neurological degradation, as per your original descriptions, should have manifested within minutes of exposure, resulting in rapid synaptic collapse and subsequent cerebral necrosis. However, the modified strain exhibits an unprecedented latency period. Activation occurs at a significantly delayed rate, extending the window before symptomatic onset. Yet, once triggered, the rate of neural degradation follows an exponential curve far steeper than that of the unaltered variant. In essence, the patient appears asymptomatic until the final stages, at which point deterioration becomes catastrophically rapid."

Maya paused, allowing the data to speak for itself before continuing. "By comparing the infected nerve tissue extracted from Nathan's scans with the blood sample of Yautja origin, recovered from Lieutenant Gemma's garments, I have confirmed that the genetic building blocks of the pathogen are indeed Romulan in origin. However, the Yautja contributions are unmistakable. Their biological signatures are embedded within the vector proteins responsible for the delayed activation mechanism, an innovation that suggests a profound understanding of targeted neurobiology. That these modifications are so seamlessly integrated is, from a scientific perspective, remarkable. From a medical standpoint, however, it is deeply concerning."

Her gaze shifted briefly toward Nathan, whose body continued to convulse on the biobed despite the medical staff's best efforts. "Based on the current progression rate extrapolated from both the scans and the bio-weapon's molecular decay parameters, I estimate that the patient has less than two hours before complete neurological breakdown occurs. Regrettably, it is highly probable that cerebral functions will cease well before that threshold is reached. While I remain dedicated to the pursuit of a viable countermeasure, the temporal constraints imposed by this modified strain severely limit the probability of success within the necessary timeframe."

Maya's expression, while characteristically impassive, bore the subtle tension of someone acutely aware of the stakes. "Without direct samples of the bio-weapon's unmodified variant for comparison or further insights into Yautja biochemical methodologies, our options remain limited. I will, of course, continue to analyze the pathogen's structural vulnerabilities in the hope of identifying a means of arresting or reversing its progression. However, given our current knowledge and resources, it is my scientifically grounded conclusion that the likelihood of developing an effective treatment before the patient succumbs is exceedingly low."

There was no malice in her words, nor was there resignation, only the clinical honesty of a scientist presenting her findings without embellishment or false hope. Yet, beneath the layers of analysis and calculation, Maya's mind remained alight with questions, possibilities, and the relentless drive to understand the enigma before her, regardless of how little time remained.

---

Jessica Solarik

Lieutenant Commander Maya

Chief Science Officer

USS ANUBIS

- William Blake (British, 1757-1827)

##########

"The Most Precious Gift"

Previous post: "Nasty, Nastier, Nastiest" by Jessica

##########

- Teaching from the Oltharian Religious Circle

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1725

Erik Morningstar strode into Sickbay, his expression carefully controlled, but the fire in his dark eyes betrayed his determination. The moment he stepped inside, the tension in the room became palpable. Amanda’s tear-streaked face turned toward him, her voice breaking with desperation.

“Please, Captain... do something! He’s dying!”

Her twin sister, Adriana, held her close, whispering reassurances neither truly believed. Ya’Han, her crimson-red hair a testament to her warrior instincts, stood like a sentinel near the medical team, ensuring they remained undisturbed in their frantic efforts. Just beyond her, officers and crew gathered in anxious silence, their murmurs blending into the persistent beeps of medical scanners.

On the partially isolated biobed, Nathan’s small form trembled violently, wracked by uncontrollable convulsions. His condition had worsened in mere minutes, his nervous system betraying him with every spasmodic jolt. Dr. T’Lara and Maya worked methodically, their Vulcan-Romulan and Shillian intellects fully engaged in the battle against a bio-weapon so insidiously modified that even their combined expertise struggled to keep pace.

Amanda’s pleas echoed through Sickbay, a heart-wrenching sound that no one could ignore, yet none could silence the cause of her sorrow.

Gemma, her voice carrying the calm authority of Finnja, the Dinaali healer, turned to Amanda. “We cannot suppress his nervous system without risking accelerating the bio-weapon’s spread. Doing so would seal his fate.”

Though logical, the words cut Amanda like a knife.

“Then find another way!” she cried, breaking free from Adriana’s grasp, clutching the edge of the biobed as if sheer will could anchor Nathan to life. Ya’Han reached to pull her back, but her own emotions faltered. The memory of Jayson’s clone’s death clouded her judgment, making her hesitate.

Erik exhaled slowly, grounding himself as the unshakable force his crew needed. He stepped toward T’Lara, lowering his voice.

“Tell me there’s something... anything... we can do.”

The Vulcan-Romulan physician met his gaze, her normally impenetrable demeanour showing the faintest trace of unease.

“Maya is working as efficiently as possible. Every resource the ANUBIS has is being utilized.” She gestured toward the display of genetic structures overhead, the flickering hues of amber and crimson still pulsing amidst the green Romulan lattice. “The Yautja modifications have altered the activation sequence so extensively that conventional counteragents are ineffective. We are searching for a disruption point... something that will halt the degradation.”

Erik’s jaw tightened. “But?”

T’Lara hesitated half a second before continuing. “We need more time than the three hours he has.” Despite her Vulcan detachment, Erik caught the faintest note of regret in her voice. But regret wouldn’t change the outcome.

He turned to Maya, whose sharp eyes never wavered from the rapidly shifting data.

“What about cryostasis?” he asked. “Would slowing his metabolism delay the spread?”

Maya’s fingers paused over her console before resuming at an even faster pace.

“Theoretically, a carefully controlled cryogenic suspension might extend our window, but it won’t stop the bio-weapon entirely. The real risk is the pathogen’s instability... a sudden temperature shift could trigger an unforeseen response, accelerating or mutating its effects. We don’t know enough about this strain to predict what will happen. Based on what we do know of the original Romulan Neurological Bio-Weapon, any attempt to lower the body temperature of the patient will only speed his demise. With the modifications made by the Yautja though, we have no way to truly know what would happen.”

“We don’t have the luxury of caution,” Erik stated firmly. “If cryostasis buys us time, we take that risk... The decision is mine and I will accept full responsibility for what will happen. Do it.”

T’Lara gave a single nod. “I will oversee the procedure personally.”

Amanda’s tear-filled gaze darted between them, clinging to the last shred of hope. “Please... just save him.”

As the medical team mobilized, Erik turned to Gemma. “We need more intel on the Yautja modifications. If we understand their methods, we might find a solution. I am tired of hearing that because of their involvement and tempering in this, we have no idea what we are facing.”

The woman’s posture shifted slightly, Finnja’s presence fading as another persona took over... one more suited for intelligence gathering... Gemma. “I’ll do what I can, Captain.”

She cast a final, lingering glance at Nathan before pushing past the exhaustion threatening to overtake her. For his sake, she had to push beyond her limits once again.

Ya’Han, with Adriana’s help, finally managed to pull Amanda away as Dr. T’Lara moved in. The odds were poor, and they all knew it, but this was the only option left.

"Computer," T’Lara ordered, her voice steady, devoid of hesitation. "Initiate a bio-containment field around biobed five and inject a 1000 parts-per-million aerosol vapour: 80% cryogenic gas, 15% trioxide compound, and 5% synaptic neural suppression compound."

Everyone held their breath as the shimmering containment field activated. A mist enveloped Nathan’s convulsing form. Hopes and fears hung in suspension between heartbeats.

Seconds passed with endless eternity between them.

"Neurological and synaptic activity reduced by 60%," Maya reported. The silence that followed stretched unbearably. Then, she added, "Progression of the neurological bio-weapon has slowed by 30%."

A collective sigh of relief swept through the room.

“I dare not push this further,” T’Lara admitted. “We could cause more harm than good. The fact that this worked is already well beyond what we could have hoped for."

Erik exhaled, his gaze fixed on Nathan. Time was against them, but he refused to accept defeat.  "You just bought him... and us... an extra hour. This crew has worked miracles in less time than that, just as you just did, Doctor. Thank you."

His dark eyes met each of those present, offering silent hope... perhaps the most powerful force, or gift, in the universe.

--==(/\)==--

Francois Charette

Captain Erik Morningstar

Commanding Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

--

"I used to think it was awful that life was so unfair. Then I thought, wouldn't it be much worse if life were fair and all the terrible things that happen to us come because we actually deserve them. So now I take great comfort in the general hostility and unfairness of the universe."

- Marcus Cole, Babylon 5

=-=

"Candid Opinion"

Previous post: "Questions" by the great Lead Writer Francois

=-=

Setting:  USS ANUBIS, Bridge

Stardate: 44355.1735

Captain Erik Morningstar stepped onto the bridge, his expression as unreadable as ever, every step measured, every movement controlled. Without breaking stride, he headed directly for his ready room. The moment the doors slid closed behind him, he exhaled, the weight of his decision in Sickbay pressing down on him like an unseen force. He had made his call, but the consequences were far from settled.

Before he could even take a seat, the chime rang.

He closed his eyes briefly, already knowing who it would be. "Come," he said.

Commander Shar’El stepped inside, her posture sharp, her dark eyes unreadable. She didn’t waste time. "Permission to speak candidly, Captain?"

Morningstar smirked despite himself. "You always do, Commander. Why start asking now?"

Shar’El didn’t return the smile. "What you did in Sickbay, meaning ordering T’Lara to put Nathan in neuro stasis, that was a hell of a gamble. The records showed he had three hours left. Now he has four, but that decision could have just as easily cost him everything."

Morningstar met her gaze, the smirk fading. He moved around his desk but didn’t sit. "I know," he admitted, his voice steady but weighted. "I had little choice. The crew needed to be focused." The Native American gently tapped the side of his head, inviting the Ullian to use her talents to see for herself what he had dealt with.

Shar’El crossed her arms. "Was T’Lara not focused enough? Maya? Ya’Han?"

He leaned forward, hands flat on the desk, his tone dropping. "You know exactly what I mean. The moment they realized the neurological bio-weapon was real, it rattled them. Hard. After everything we’ve been through... losing Satella, barely surviving the Lokustaar and the Yautja... dealing with 190 rescued Terrans who are all barely able to move, let alone take care of themselves. The last thing this crew needed was another impossible crisis dragging them down. If I hadn’t made that call, this situation would’ve crushed morale." He paused, then added, "Now it can go one of two ways: a harsh reminder of how brutal this universe is, or a reason to hope."

Shar’El studied him, weighing his words. Then, with a small nod, she conceded, "I understand. But you still took a massive risk."

"Agreed," Erik said. "And even with that extra hour, it may not be enough. Not for Nathan. Not for anyone else aboard the ANUBIS if he’s not the only one infected."

A beat of silence passed. They both understood the unspoken truth... the nightmare scenario that no one wanted to voice.

Shar’El finally exhaled. "So what now?"

Morningstar leaned back in his chair. "Now," he said, "we hope this crew pulls off yet another miracle."

Shar’El’s expression remained serious, but her tone lightened just a fraction. "Well, at least this time, we have the home-field advantage."

She wasn’t trying to downplay the severity of their situation... far from it. But given everything they had survived before, she truly believed they would find a way through this crisis, just as they always had.

=-=

Tiffany Reeve

Commander Shar'El

Executive Officer

USS ANUBIS

"Open Argument"

Previous post: "Candid Opinion"

Location: USS ANUBIS, Turbolift

Stardate: 44355.1735

The moment the turbolift doors slid shut, Gemma exhaled sharply, her jaw clenched as she leaned against the cool metallic wall. The walls were closing in... no, it wasn’t the space, but the voices. The fractured chorus of her own making erupted, an internal tribunal convened to dissect Captain Morningstar’s decision.

“That was reckless,” Dalra snapped, her Varro pilot instincts flaring. “An uncontrolled cryostasis attempt? Based on what? A desperate hope? He gambled with that boy’s life.”

“He made the only choice he had,” Finnja countered, her Dinaali healer’s voice steady, though burdened by resignation. “There was no other viable alternative. He saw a sliver of possibility and took it.”

“A sliver of possibility is not a plan,” Arennis said, her Risian calm at odds with the turmoil. “Hope is not a strategy.”

“Neither is doing nothing,” Lireen fired back, the Edo explorer's passion igniting. “We didn’t have the luxury of debate in that moment. We needed action.”

Ema Fairchild folded her arms in the depths of Gemma’s psyche, her Oltharian warrior’s conviction resolute. “Sometimes faith is all that stands between life and death. Morningstar chose to act, and I respect that.”

“Faith?” Anya Petrov scoffed, the Russian assassin dripping disdain. “Hope and faith don’t stop phaser beams, or bio-weapons for that matter. A controlled elimination would have ensured containment.”

“You would have killed him just to keep things ‘clean’?” Finnja’s rare anger surfaced. “That child is innocent.”

“Innocence does not negate threat,” Za’Ran murmured, the Nylaan infiltrator’s voice barely above a whisper. “If the Yautja modifications are unpredictable, we cannot afford to be sentimental.”

“Screw that,” Dayna Smith shot back, the rebellious Terran teen slamming a fist against the invisible table of their shared mind. “We don’t just give up. That’s not who we are.”

“We?” Kael’s voice slithered through the discourse like a shadow. “You mean the illusion of unity we pretend to have? We are not one. We are many. And many of us think Morningstar acted on desperation rather than logic.”

“Desperation drives necessity,” Tahlia, the diplomat, offered, her voice a balm against the rising tensions. “It makes us reach further, fight harder. But it does not mean he was right.”

“Enough.” Gemma’s voice, her own, or what she claimed as her own, cut through the storm. The voices quieted, retreating into the recesses of her mind. She pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaustion creeping in.

The captain had made his choice. Right or wrong, it was done. And now, she had her own task, to gather intelligence, to find an answer beyond speculation if there was one to be found.

The turbolift slowed, and the doors slid open.

Standing there, waiting, was Zub Enel. His towering form filled the entrance, his expression still, pensive, bordering on troubled.

Gemma hesitated for half a breath.

Had he heard any of that?

=-=

Rachel Jackie Johnson

Lieutenant Gemma

Intel Operative

USS ANUBIS

[The fun is getting to wear multiple disguises and getting to explore multiple personalities and bring them to life. - Jenna Fischer]

"Emotional Support"

Previous post: "Open Argument" by Rachel

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1735

Jayson Stark stepped into Sickbay, his usual composed demeanor slightly fractured by the weight of recent events. The entire ship had felt the gravity of Captain Morningstar’s decision, an impossible choice made in the face of an unwinnable situation. Now, with the silence of the corridors lingering in his ears, he searched for Ya’Han, needing to see her, to reassure himself that she was alright.

He found her standing near one of the auxiliary biobeds, her back turned to him. The vibrant crimson of her hair had begun to dull, fading toward the stark white of her past—a silent testament to the storm raging within her. Jayson knew that look, that expression of helplessness masked beneath an unyielding exterior. He had seen it before, in the mirror, in the wake of loss after loss.

He took a slow step closer. "Ya’Han?"

She tensed for the briefest of moments before exhaling, her hands gripping the edge of the biobed. When she turned, her gaze locked onto his, and the conflict within her eyes was unmistakable. There was anger, at the bio-weapon, at the Yautja, at the universe itself for forcing them into this desperate battle. But beneath that, there was pain. The kind that gnawed at the soul, leaving wounds unseen but deeply felt.

"They barely bought him an hour," she murmured, her voice tight. "One hour, Jayson. And for what? So we can watch him slip away more slowly?" Her jaw clenched, the frustration in her tone raw.

He understood that helplessness all too well. "An hour is still time," he said gently. "And if anyone can find a way to save him, it’s this crew. We’ve beaten the odds before."

Ya’Han shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "That’s what we always tell ourselves. But what if this time we don’t? What if this is the time we finally run out of miracles?" Her voice caught, and for a split second, her carefully controlled mask cracked, revealing the exhaustion beneath.

Jayson reached out, resting a hand on her arm. "I don’t have an answer for that," he admitted. "But I do know this—giving up now won’t change anything. You’re here, Ya’Han. Fighting. Because that’s who you are. And that’s why we still have a chance."

She closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath. When she opened them again, the white in her hair was still there, but a few streaks of red had begun to return. She nodded once, not in complete agreement, but in understanding.

"I just... hate feeling powerless," she confessed. "I hate not being able to do anything. I hate standing by, watching, when I should be fighting."

Jayson gave a small, knowing smile. "You’re not powerless. You’re here. And that means everything."

For the first time since he had entered, she allowed herself to lean into his presence, just for a moment, before straightening. "I should check on Dr. T’Lara, see if there’s anything she needs. Maybe there's still something I can do."

He nodded. "I’ll be here."

As she turned back toward the medical station, Jayson lingered for a moment, watching as she steadied herself. The fight wasn’t over. Not yet. And as long as there was still time, even if just an hour, they would keep fighting.

Because that was what the crew of the ANUBIS did.

=-=

Jayson Sousa

Lieutenant JG A'Janni

Flight Control Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

Lieutenant Jayson Stark

Chief of Operations

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

=-=

“White Elephant”

Previous post: “Emotional Support” by Jayson

=-=

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Corridor outside IGC,

Stardate: 44355.1736

Concerned about his newly discovered nanites, Zub Enel sought Gemma in her usual Array-Level haunt, the Intelligence Gathering Center. The door was locked. He was not surprised. The IGC held many advanced intel assets, including Gemma. For security reasons the computer refused verify if the room was occupied. The 7-foot-tall Voth flattened a scaly, three-fingered hand on the door. He hoped his newly revealed nanites -- technically, *her* nanites -- would offer a whisper of her presence. He sensed nothing but cool metal and stillness.

He heard the turbolift whirring, on approach, growing louder, its single note rising up the musical scale. Gemma? How would she react to his concerns about little machines rushing through his body? Would she be insulted? Helpful? Dismissive? His heartbeat rose with the doppler shift. His hands closed into wet fists. He held his breath. Odd thoughts. An argument, not exactly in his mind, grew more intense. Just before he caught the drift of it, it stopped.

The turbolift door opened to reveal Gemma. Her jaw was set with determination, but her lips sagged at the corners. Her eyebrows were drawn slightly together. Her eyes, blue as ever, were underlaid by dark rings. Her usually square shoulders drooped.

She focused on Zub Enel standing in her way.  She scowled and said with a voice on the verge of a bestial growl. “I have zero time. Move aside.”

Zub stayed put. “You look exhausted. You are no good to anyone that way. Come on. Take some rest.” He reached out a hand meaning to take an arm to support her.

Gemma stiffened. She molded into the deadly assassin Anya. Her Russian accent carried menace, “Touch me and I kill you.” Her eyes blazed a lethal challenge. Her lips twisted into a smile of sadistic anticipation.

Zub lifted a hand in surrender, palm out.

“Coward!” The Slavic warrior spat the word, bending at her waist to hurl it.

That insult sliced Zub deeply, a saw-edged sword plunging through him so deep he instinctively covered his heart with his hand. He struggled to move aside, laboring under 13Gs of dismay. He waved his other arm for Anya to pass.

The Russian lunged and pinned his arm across his chest so suddenly that he seized her neck and pulled to foil her attack. She leaned on his crossed arm and…. purred, “Tovarich, I could never kill you. Not completely.” She gave him a sultry look like she might go up on tiptoe and kiss him. He stared at her horrified.

Zub was bending over backward away from her, but Anya still pressed against him. She morphed into a radiant blonde he recognized as Lyric. Her voice was softer, smoother than the Russian’s. She said, “Don’t believe everything you hear and only a tenth of what you see.”

Zub released Lyric’s neck and stepped back. Moving in sync, staying pressed against him, Lyric smiled, her face beatific. His mind struggled with attraction, confusion and downright terror. Who in Gemma’s deep repertoire of personas would manifest next? So many of her ‘persons’ were dangerous, even lethal.

Lyric’s radiantly beautiful blonde tresses lengthened and reddened as her face became the Uxali scientist Wimda. She released his arm and gently pushed him away. Her soft voice was filled with resolve. “I need to help that boy Nathan. There is no time to waste.”

Enel straightened his back to keep from toppling.

Gemma was looking up at him on the edge of exhaustion. Her voice was back to its normal businesslike delivery. “Talk later?”

Being near her had become so bizarre so quickly that his only response was a chuckle.

Gemma studied his face, her expression classically unreadable. She passed him by and headed to the IGC.

Terrified, flummoxed, physically attracted, insulted, dismayed, Zub Enel stood staring. Like a wish granted he never knew he had, his nanites let him get closer to Gemma than ever, but even so to him she remained unpredictable, enigmatic, deadly. Could he ever understand her? He looked at his hands as if he could see the microscopic machines coursing through his veins. What had she accidentally given him? A gift? A curse?

=-=

David Michael Inverso

Lieutenant JG Zub Enel

MCO

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”

- Mary Oliver

"Every Second Count"

Previous post: "White Elephant"

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1745

Fifteen minutes had passed since the bio-containment field activated and the cryogenic vapor engulfed the small, fragile form of Nathan. Sickbay remained eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic pulses of the medical scanners monitoring the boy’s now-sluggish vitals. The tension had not dissipated, only shifted, no longer fueled by frantic desperation, but by the weight of an irreversible gamble.

T’Lara stood at the central medical console, her gaze fixed on the cascading streams of data projected before her. Every line of code, every biochemical fluctuation, reinforced the same immutable truth... this had been a reckless decision. By placing Nathan into cryostasis, they had gambled against probability, against logic. The pathogen had been given an entirely new variable to react to, and if it adapted unpredictably within the suspended state, any chance of a true countermeasure could be lost.

Yet, undeniably, the gamble had succeeded. For now.

Her fingers glided over the console, refining the scanning parameters. The neural suppression compound had reduced synaptic activity just enough to counteract the worst of the convulsions, but she noted a disturbing irregularity in the molecular degradation rate. The progression of the bio-weapon had slowed, but its behavior had become erratic. Whether this was a response to the cryogenic exposure or a natural phase in its life cycle was unclear. Without the ability to observe it in real-time within a conscious host, they had lost a crucial avenue for understanding its full trajectory.

Illogical. Inefficient.

And yet, she understood why the Captain had made the call. The emotional volatility in the room had been nearing an unsustainable level. Amanda’s anguish, Ya’Han’s hesitation, the crew’s silent but palpable unease... it had all been a destabilizing force. Morningstar had recognized that something needed to be done to reassert control. The cryostasis order had not only bought them time, it had unified the crew under a singular, focused purpose. For that, she had to acknowledge the effectiveness of his leadership.

Still, admiration did not equate to agreement.

“Doctor,” Maya’s voice pulled T’Lara from her calculations. The Shillian scientist leaned in slightly, eyes scanning the same data streams. “The pathogen’s structural integrity remains intact despite the metabolic reduction. It’s as if it’s waiting.”

T’Lara inclined her head slightly. “That is a concern,” she admitted. “If the cryogenic exposure does not eliminate or weaken it, then the moment we attempt to revive the patient, the pathogen may resume its progression, possibly at an accelerated rate.”

Maya exhaled, tension creasing her normally analytical features. “Then we need to find a way to neutralize it before that happens. We’re running out of options... and time.”

“I am already reallocating resources to expand our analysis,” T’Lara stated, reinforcing her own resolve. “However, we must also prepare for a scenario in which Nathan is not the only infected crew member.”

Maya hesitated before nodding. “You believe others may already be exposed.”

“I consider it a probability,” T’Lara corrected, adjusting the biometric scans to include early-stage markers for neurological degradation. “If one crewmember has succumbed, it is logical to assume that others may soon follow. We must anticipate this eventuality and ensure we are not merely reacting, but prepared.”

Maya did not argue. Instead, she resumed her analysis, her own silent agreement evident in her actions.

T’Lara allowed herself a single measured breath. Her Romulan instincts, the part of her that despised uncertainty, burned beneath the surface, demanding a solution, a strategy that would place them back in control. But she was not here to act on impulse. She was here to do what logic dictated, to see beyond the emotions and desperate hopes.

For now, that meant one thing: ensuring this ship and its crew were ready for what was coming.

=-=

Dawn Bohr

Lt. Commander T'Lara

Chief Medical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

##########

"A Moment of Eternal Debate"

Previous post: "Every Second Count" by Dawn

##########

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1745

Cristhiane and Christie walked hesitantly into Sickbay, greeting the departing OPS Officer with a casual, silent nod. Once inside, they scrutinized the quieter-than-expected bustling medical center, everyone performing their duties with a certain sombre aura about them.

It did not take long for Christie to locate the biobed Nathan was on, the only one encased in a bio-containment field. Cristhiane watched as her daughter ran toward the bed, the raw emotions from the young woman beyond palpable. Once at her destination, Christie stood beside the bed, her hand tightly gripping the small edge.

"You have to make it," she softly whispered through free-flowing tears, while her mother watched, saddened by the emotional display she knew she was partially responsible for.

Amanda soon joined Christie, the two sharing a comforting, silent hug.

Time itself seemed to pause, granting the saddened women a rare moment of tranquillity.

"A little less than four hours," Counsellor Lopez announced as she stood next to Cristhiane, bringing that elusive moment to an end.

The green-eyed mother glanced at the woman, a feeling of guilt washing over her causing her to return her gaze to the source of her emotional turmoils.

The room remained silent, the tension thick in the air. Cristhiane couldn’t tear her eyes away from Nathan, his small, motionless form barely visible beneath the shimmering containment field. The feeling of helplessness gnawed at her, a bitter reminder of the cruel unpredictability of fate. How could she have anticipated the sequence of events that came to be? From the day she met him, nothing made sense leaving her feeling an emptiness without parallel.

"Four hours..." Cristhiane repeated softly, the words barely audible over the quiet shuffling of Sickbay. She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to focus on the situation at hand. Time was slipping away, leaving her with a decision that grew increasingly more difficult with each passing second.

In a desperate attempt to call upon whatever strength she could find within her being, Cristhiane closed her eyes, but instead of peace and tranquillity, she was immediately assaulted by memories she wished long ago to have forgotten.

(FLASHBACK)

Christie was crying, but not as a normal 3-year-old should, her daughter was in pain, the kind of pain that ripped a mother's soul to shreds, and there was nothing Cristhiane could do to stop it.  Her pleas to the Romulan scientist were ignored, dismissed, and considered to be nothing more than an inconsequential reaction to what needed to be done.

As any mother would, she begged them to stop whatever it was they were doing to her child, silently promising to herself between the waves of tears that she would never allow her child to suffer this kind of pain ever again. The time display on the far wall of the laboratory seemed paralyzed, stretching the mother's anguish into an endless eternity that time itself had decided to turn away from.

The last thing Cristhiane remembered of that moment lost in the recesses of time was something being pressed against her neck, instantly silencing her cries before she collapsed unconscious to the ground.

(END FLASHBACK)

Cristhiane opened her eyes, realizing that she had stopped breathing. The heart in her chest was threatening to break free and all she could do was to hear the lingering echoes of her baby girl's cries.  She turned her head, trying to hide the tears now streaming from her eyes, that is when she noticed Commander Shar'El looking straight at her, an expression of puzzled concern engraved onto her features.

Amanda having noticed the arrival of the First Officer and still clutching the anguish-filled daughter, looked up at the group. Her eyes were wide with sorrow. To some, the next four hours would feel like endless eternities stacked one atop the other, but to others, it left them fearing to close their eyes and see it vanish as if it had never been there.

--==(/\)==--

Francois Charette

on behalf of Cristhiane M

Cristhiane Smith

Mother of Christie Smith

Civilian guest

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

=-=

"Shattered Trust"

Previous post: "A Moment of Eternal Debate" by the increasingly participating Cristhiane

=-=

Setting:  USS ANUBIS, Bridge

Stardate: 44355.1750

Shar’El barely had to concentrate to pick up the woman's broadcasted memory. It struck her with an intensity that left no doubt... Cristhiane had relived something profoundly painful. As an Ullian, it was impossible not to hear the echoes of raw anguish in Cristhiane’s mind, but as an officer, Shar’El knew better than to openly acknowledge it. Instead, she stepped forward with deliberate calmness, her gaze locking onto the distressed woman.

“Cristhiane,” Shar’El said softly, tilting her head in subtle concern. “Can we talk for a moment?”

The mother of the young woman at Nathan’s bedside startled slightly before quickly regaining her composure. There was an instinctive hesitation, but she gave a slow nod and allowed the Commander to guide her a few steps away.

Shar’El took a measured breath before continuing. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” The statement was carefully chosen, neutral enough not to raise immediate suspicion but open-ended enough to encourage a reaction. She needed Cristhiane to talk, needed her to willingly bring forth more of those memories that had already revealed so much.

Cristhiane hesitated, her eyes darting toward Christie, then back at Nathan, before settling on Shar’El. “I… It’s nothing,” she replied, her voice flat, almost defensive.

Shar’El’s expression remained unreadable, but she knew how to push without pushing. “Nothing?” she repeated lightly, her tone carrying just the right amount of skepticism. “I’ve spent years reading people, Cristhiane. You’re not fine, and I don’t think that memory was just a fleeting nightmare.”

Cristhiane inhaled sharply, and for a moment, Shar’El could sense her defenses rising. Yet there was something else, a flicker of reluctant acknowledgment. The mother was guarded, but her past was too heavy to be buried completely, not when it had just been dragged back to the surface so violently.

“I don’t like being cornered,” Cristhiane finally admitted, crossing her arms as her heterochromatic gaze searched Shar’El’s face. There was distrust there, but also a hint of curiosity. “Why do you care?”

Shar’El didn’t flinch. “Because I saw the pain in that memory,” she admitted, choosing honesty over manipulation. “Because you and your daughter are guests aboard this ship, and because if something from your past is putting either of you in danger, I need to know.”

Cristhiane’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And if it’s just my burden to bear?”

Shar’El held her gaze. “I think we both know it’s more than that. On this ship, you are surrounded by people who have dedicated their lives to helping others, working in the shadows to do those things that are needed but that no one else can or dares to do. It is not a question of if we can help, it is a question of how we can. But for that, you need to trust us... to trust me.”

Silence stretched between them, charged with unspoken truths and lingering suspicion. Shar’El knew she had planted the seed. Whether Cristhiane would let it grow was another matter entirely. But for now, she had done what she needed to, made her presence known, made it clear that she was watching, listening.

And most importantly, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Cristhiane glanced over her shoulder to Christie, then Amanda, and finally Nathan before returning her weighted gaze back to the ANUBIS' Commander. She said nothing, only closing her eyes and lowering her head.

(FLASHBACK)

Cristhiane had been a fool.

The realization cut deeper than any blade, leaving behind wounds that would never truly heal. She had believed him, trusted him. She had let herself love him.

And now, she was paying the price.

"You thought you could run?" His voice was calm, devoid of anger, as if he were speaking to a wayward child rather than his wife... the woman he had trapped, deceived, and stolen everything from. "You thought they would help you? That they cared?"

She struggled against the hands that held her down, her vision blurred with unshed tears. The weight of betrayal, of utter helplessness, pressed down on her like an unmovable force.

She had been so close.

The people she had gone to for help... people who had smiled at her, who had promised to keep her and Christie safe... had sold her out. The credits had exchanged hands right in front of her as if she were nothing more than cargo. A transaction. A business deal.

"You still don’t understand, do you?" he continued, crouching before her, his piercing eyes searching hers. "There is no escape. No one will ever help you. They all have a price. And I? I will always find you."

Cristhiane clenched her jaw, refusing to let him see her break. But the fear, the helplessness, the knowledge that she had nowhere left to turn... it poisoned her, buried itself deep within her heart like a parasite.

He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "Trust is a weakness, my love. One you cannot afford."

And in that moment, as she stared into the eyes of the man she had once given her heart to, Cristhiane finally understood.

She would never trust again.

(END FLASHBACK)

Cristhiane exhaled slowly, her body subtly tensing before she opened her eyes once more. Whatever storm had passed through her mind, she had forced it back into the depths where she kept such memories locked away.

Shar’El recognized the struggle. Trust was not something that could be built in a single conversation, not after what Cristhiane had endured. It had been torn from her, twisted into a weapon against her, leaving only the instinct to protect herself and her daughter at all costs.

“I’m not asking you to trust me now,” Shar’El said quietly, her tone softer than before. “I just want you to know that if you ever do, if you ever need to, you won’t have to do it alone.”

Cristhiane’s lips pressed together, unreadable emotions flickering behind her guarded gaze. Then, with the smallest of nods, she turned away and walked back toward her daughter, leaving Shar’El to wonder whether the first crack had finally formed in the walls Cristhiane had spent a lifetime building.

=-=

Tiffany Reeve

Commander Shar'El

Executive Officer

USS ANUBIS

AND

Cristhiane M

Cristhiane Smith

Mother of Christie Smith

Civilian guest

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

-=-=-

"Lost in Silence"

Previous post: "Shattered Trust" by Tiffany and Cristhiane

-=-=-

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Corridor

Stardate: 44355.1800

The moment she stepped out of Sickbay, guilt clung to the Nylaan Chief of Security like a second skin.

Ya’Han was no stranger to hardship, nor was she the type to turn away from it. And yet, she had left.

The still air of the corridor did nothing to ease the tension in her chest, nor did the dimmed emergency lighting soften the sharp edges of the reality pressing down on her. Nathan was dying, slowly. Amanda was crying, pleading. The Captain had made a call no one had expected. And she… she had walked away.

Not because she was weak, but because, for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what to do.

She knew what was expected of her in Sickbay, using her medical knowledge to help the patients suffering from the long-term effects of being in stasis and neurologically linked to the Yautja Training Matrix. What she didn’t know was how to deal with her emotions… with her fears.

She had always pushed them aside, like she had been taught. Like she had needed to in order to survive. It was second nature, a skill forged under the oppressive rule of the High Sovereign. But now, with each step deeper into the heart of the ANUBIS, those same emotions clawed their way back to the surface, demanding to be felt.

The ship was quiet. Somber. The weight of an unseen enemy settled over the crew, a silent understanding that something terrible had found its way aboard. No one approached her—not that they ever did when she walked like this. Alone. Her posture was a silent warning to stay clear.

The fact that her hair remained pitch black was another unspoken sign. Something was not right, and anyone who encountered her knew it was best to let her figure it out on her own.

Her walk was pensive, aimless, her thoughts lost in memories she wished she didn’t have.

She should have gone to her quarters. Instead, she ended up at the Gymnasium.

Her hand hesitated over the door’s control panel. She had not meant to come here, had not even realized where her feet had carried her until this very moment. Normally, she would step inside without thought, fall into the rhythm of training; strike, counter, move. Let the motions clear her mind. Let muscle memory override the chaos.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she stood there, staring at the door as if the answer to everything waited on the other side.

It didn’t.

Ya’Han inhaled sharply, the breath catching as something unfamiliar twisted in her gut. A feeling she didn’t want to name. A truth she didn’t want to face.

The Romulan Bio-Weapon was a threat to all Terrans. Jayson was Terran.

She had already lost him once, his clone, his echo, but it had been real enough to leave a wound she had yet to fully heal from, despite her claims that she had.

If they didn’t find a cure… if this weapon took him from her…

She exhaled, slow and steady, but it did nothing to loosen the icy grip around her heart.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was afraid. Truly afraid.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

-=-=-

Hanali Han

Lieutenant Ya'Han

Chief of Security / Tactical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

"Touching One's Own Insanity"

Previous post: "Lost in Silence"

Location: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1810

The moment Gemma stepped into the Intel Gathering Center, the familiar noises of processing cores were a comforting backdrop to the chaos in her mind. The task before her was monumental, unraveling the modifications to a Romulan bio-weapon, altered by the Yautja, a species shrouded in secrecy and brutality. Officially, the Federation knew next to nothing about them. Unofficially? That was another matter entirely.

Her nanites, somehow, had linked to the system and interfaced with the Training Matrix, granting her access to encrypted data streams that, at the time, the ILO did not know were even there. The ability to self-cloak had been downloaded and incorporated into her nanites, a new skill that had proven essential in fighting against the Lokustaar. This unexpected development left Gemma wondering... could the information she needed about other Yautja technology existed within her nanites, buried deep in the vast repository of intelligence she carried?.

That meant turning inward, a place she had long avoided for obvious and not so obvious reasons. It had taken her years to even begin to understand who she was... an unruly collection of numerous and apparently increasing personalities, echoing her own fractured mind. Did she truly want to dive into this endless storm in search of something specific?

Gemma took a steadying breath and settled into her chair, her body going still as she initiated a controlled dive into her own mind. The IGC faded into the background, replaced by a vast, shifting void of fragmented memories, voices, and identities.

At first, there was nothing but silence, a false sense of serenity. Then, the storm came. The weight of countless personas crashed over her like an overwhelming tide, each vying for dominance, each pulling her in a different direction. Her breath hitched as she tried to stabilize herself, but the world around her churned like a maelstrom, fragments of faces and voices swirling in a chaotic spiral.

An invisible force yanked her backward, throwing her into a disjointed memory... her own body on a medical bed, the cold touch of surgical instruments against her skin, voices speaking in hushed tones. Who had they been? Who had she been? The sensation of helplessness clawed at her, but she forced herself to push forward.

Another surge of instability... of insanity washed over her as a new wave of personas crashed in.

Anya Petrov’s voice rang sharp, a blade cutting through the noise. “Weakness will get us killed.”

Lyric’s melodic tones wove through the chaos, soothing yet elusive. “Strength is not just in the fight, but in knowing when to listen.”

Wimdalli’s analytical mind interjected, grasping at logic. “You must stabilize the connection. Find an anchor, or risk being lost in the data forever.”

The void pulsed around her, shifting in intensity. The weight of memories she didn’t recognize pressed against her skull, an unbearable pressure that threatened to splinter her mind, shattering it even more than it already was. Was this what it meant to truly know herself? Was the knowledge she sought worth this price?

For a moment, doubt crept in. Was this even possible? But doubt had never stopped her before.

Digging deep, she reached for a tether, a constant, something unshakable. The mission. The need to understand the modifications. The survival of those depending on her. She latched onto it with every fiber of her being, fighting against the tidal wave of uncertainty. Inch by inch, the storm settled, clarity forming where there had been only chaos.

She stood on an unseen surface, surrounded by flickering figures... herselves. Hundreds upon hundreds of eyes looking back at her... a peek into her fractured mind, into her near absolute insanity.

Anya Petrov materialized first, arms crossed, her icy Russian demeanor ever-present. “This is a fool’s errand, lyubimaya. We do not chase ghosts when there are enemies to kill.”

Wimdalli, the Uxali scientist, appeared beside her, adjusting an invisible control panel with frantic energy. “No, this is precisely what we must do. The data is here. We need to access it logically.”

Lyric’s voice floated in like a melody, her golden locks shimmering. “Perhaps logic is not the way. Perhaps we need to listen.”

“Or fight,” Anya countered, rolling her eyes. “That is my preference.”

Ema Fairchild, the Oltharian warrior priestess, exuded calm. “This is not a battle. It is a journey inward.”

Gemma sighed, rubbing her temple. The clamor of identities was deafening, but she had chosen this path. She focused, centering herself, letting the voices wash over her until a presence flickered at the edges of her consciousness.

A broken, glitched image... a hazy silhouette that refused to resolve.

GAMMA.

The anomaly within her. The enigma she could never quite grasp.

The flickering figure pulsed, static crackling through its form. “You are not prepared.”

Gemma narrowed her eyes. “Not ready for what?”

“The truth.”

Frustration rose in her chest. “I need information on the Yautja modifications. What do I know? What do the nanites know?”

GAMMA’s form distorted, the flickering image shifting into something almost recognizable... a mirror image of herself. “You are not prepared... LEAVE!.”

The mental blow, which felt like a runaway starship hitting her at warp speed, knocked her clean off her feet and forced her back into the real world.  Gemma took a moment to gather her thoughts, to regain some semblance of where she was while trying to understand what had happened. She had ventured where she had never dared to and had been forced back by a part of herself that, until very recently, she did not even know was there.

Many would have seen this as a warning, as a reason to never try again, but Gemma was not like other people, never had been, and this only strengthened her resolve to try again... as soon as the room around her would stop spinning.

=-=

Rachel Jackie Johnson

Lieutenant Gemma

Intel Operative

USS ANUBIS

[The fun is getting to wear multiple disguises and getting to explore multiple personalities and bring them to life. - Jenna Fischer]

"Unmentionable Fear"

Previous post: "Touching One's Own Insanity” by Rachel

Setting:  USS ANUBIS, Lopez Quarters

Stardate: 44355.1815

The door to Adriana’s quarters slid shut with a soft hiss, sealing them away from the chaos of the ANUBIS for the first time since this nightmare began. The room felt smaller than before, heavy with exhaustion, grief, and fear. Amanda lay curled up on Adriana’s bed, her face still damp with tears. Even in sleep, her body trembled with the weight of emotions too vast to process. She had resisted leaving Nathan’s side, pleading through sobs that she couldn’t abandon him the way the universe had abandoned them all so many times before. But there was nothing she could do for him now. Nothing anyone could do except wait and hope.

Adriana sat on the couch, staring at her hands resting on her knees. Her fingers curled in and out of a fist, tension rolling through her shoulders in slow waves. The silence was suffocating, broken only by Amanda’s uneven breathing. This wasn’t how their reunion was supposed to be. She had spent over two decades searching for her twin, convinced she was chasing ghosts, fighting the hallucinations of a broken mind. And now Amanda was here. Real. Alive. But instead of joy, all Adriana felt was dread.

She exhaled, willing herself to relax, but the tremor in her fingers didn’t stop. Her breath caught in her throat. No. Not now. Not after everything she had been through to find her sister. It had to be exhaustion, nothing more. It had to be. But the image of Nathan’s body writhing in uncontrollable convulsions was burned into her mind. She and Amanda had carried him to Sickbay together, feeling every shake, every tremor beneath their hands as his nervous system betrayed him. And now her own fingers refused to be still.

She clenched her hands into fists, forcing the shaking to stop through sheer willpower. She had gone too long without rest, too long without food, too long pushing through every crisis without a single second for herself. That had to be the reason. It had to be.

Her eyes drifted toward the single family holopicture sitting on her desk. A perfect moment frozen in time, two little girls standing between their parents, their whole lives ahead of them. But fate had torn them apart, ripping Amanda away in a blink, leaving Adriana to grow up alone. And now, after finally reuniting, the twin could feel fate lurking just out of sight, waiting to steal their togetherness away again.

If she was infected…

No. She wouldn’t let herself go there. She couldn’t.

Her gaze shifted back to Amanda. Her sister had been strong for so long, surviving in a world that was never meant for her. But Nathan had been her anchor, her best friend in a reality of endless torment and survival. If he died… Adriana knew exactly what would happen. Amanda would retreat into herself, shut the world out in a way that even she might not be able to reach her. And Adriana couldn’t lose her sister again. Not like that. Not after everything they had been through.

Adriana pressed her palms against her thighs, grounding herself in the sensation, willing her hands to steady. This wasn’t about her. Not now. Amanda needed her. The rescued Terrans needed her. She had to hold on. There was no other option.

For now, she would sit here. Just for a moment. Just long enough to gather herself before she had to keep moving forward. Because that was all she could do. She wouldn’t let herself be afraid.

Exhaustion had a way of making the mind ignore things that were right there, things that would be otherwise impossible to miss, but it could also make someone see things that were not there to start with. And right now, Adriana refused to acknowledge which of those possibilities her trembling hands belonged to.

-=-=-

Marissa Montonera-Lombardi

Lieutenant JG Adriana Lopez

Ship's Counselor & Junior Ambassador

USS ANUBIS

---

"Unexpected Visitor"

(Previous Post: "Unmentionable Fear")

---

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Array Section, Deck A-4, Corridor outside the IGC

Stardate: 44355.1830

The door chime rang.

It should not have. There was no chime for the IGC, no polite audio cue to announce a visitor’s arrival. The system simply did not allow it. And yet, it rang again. And again. And again.

Gemma ignored it at first, remaining seated in her chair, her focus unwavering on the data streams flowing across her console. The annoyance crept in by the fourth chime. By the sixth, she was on her feet, storming toward the sealed entrance, already expecting Zub to be the source of her frustration.

But when the door slid open, it was not the ship’s 7-foot tall reptilian Marine Command Officer standing there.

Maya barely gave the operative time to react before she raised a tricorder, its telltale chirps filling the air as she performed a rapid scan. Gemma’s irritation flared instantly.

"You do realize my nanites will block any attempt at a biological scan, correct?" she said, her voice edged with Anya Petrov’s displeasure. "You're not going to see anything I don’t want you to see."

Maya neither responded nor looked up, her attention fixed on the readout. Her silence was even more infuriating than her usual verbosity.

Gemma’s patience snapped. In one fluid motion, she seized the tricorder from Maya’s hands. "Explain. Now."

The Chief Science Officer blinked as if seeing the Intelligence Liaison for the first time. Then she inhaled deeply, launching into a rapid-fire cascade of words. "I have been analyzing the Romulan Neurological Bio-Weapon, specifically its modified Yautja enhancements. What I found was utterly fascinating. You see, the Romulan components of the virus are exceptionally efficient, but what intrigued me was the Yautja aspect, the raw ferocity with which the pathogen attacks the nervous system. It is not merely a weapon; it is a hunt in microbial form. However, what puzzled me most was the delayed activation. It should have triggered much sooner, yet it remained dormant until now. That led me to explore potential external triggers: atmospheric changes, exposure to new pathogens, variations in gravity, radiation levels, or even a biochemical catalyst present on the planet that is absent here. That is when I realized..."

"Maya." Gemma’s tone was sharp. "Focus."

The Shillian blinked again, momentarily gathering herself before continuing at an only slightly less breakneck speed. "What if the virus was designed not to react to the presence of something, but rather to the absence of something? If the Yautja engineered the dampening effect, the virus would remain dormant as long as the host remained within the designated environment, say their stasis pods. But once removed…" She gestured emphatically. "It activated. And then it struck me... who else interfaced with Yautja technology in a way that altered them at a fundamental level?"

Gemma glanced at the tricorder, processing Maya’s hypothesis. Hesitantly, she returned the device, watching as Maya eagerly resumed scanning. The tricorder display flickered, and the Shillian’s spotted face lit up with triumph.

"There!" Maya turned the device to show her. "Your nanites are emitting a faint dampening field, one that matches the residual energy signatures I detected in the survivors, except in them, it is fading rapidly. That field kept the virus dormant. The moment the Terrans were taken from the planet, the suppression effect vanished, and the pathogen became active."

Gemma frowned, absorbing the implications. "And Nathan?"

Maya’s exuberance dimmed. "Nathan was likely infected before the Yautja modified the virus. The original Romulan strain may have made him more susceptible to activation, which is why he was the first to exhibit symptoms. Unfortunately, given the extent of neurological degradation, it may be too late to reverse the damage. The cryogenic stasis is prolonging his life, but stopping the virus now will not undo what has already been done. I must focus on saving the others."

For a moment, there was silence between them. The tension in Gemma’s posture did not ease, but Wimdalli’s curiosity flickered through her eyes, battling against Anya’s simmering irritation. Jinx’s tactical mind considered the implications.

"At least now we know how to stop it from spreading further," Maya concluded. "We can replicate the dampening field and prevent additional casualties. The answer was in your blood all along. I apologize for not warning you about the scan, but I needed to be certain that your nanites were not influencing the results. You could not be given any hints that would allow you to be prepared."

Gemma exhaled slowly, but the tension within her did not ease. You are not prepared. GAMMA’s words resurfaced like a specter, weaving through the voices already whispering in her mind. Not prepared for what? The discovery that her nanites had adapted yet again, incorporating something she had no knowledge of? The realization that, despite this breakthrough, Nathan was still dying?

The dampening field woven into her systems... it hadn’t been there before. She was certain of that. Was it simply an echo of her exposure to the Training Matrix? Or something more insidious? More deliberate?

Maya had already turned away, lost in calculations and next steps, leaving Gemma standing in the IGC doorway, replaying the precise numbers and readouts from the tricorder. Cold facts. Unforgiving certainty.

And then...

"Nathan..."

Finnja’s voice was barely a whisper, raw with sorrow. But it was enough.

The storm inside Gemma stilled. The reality of it settled in her bones, in the parts of her that no persona could shield. Nathan was going to die. Despite everything. Despite all of their efforts.

Unacceptable.

Her mind shifted, calculating, grasping at possibilities. The nanites had already adapted once, what if they could do more? What if she could make them do more? GAMMA’s warning loomed over her, but she shoved it aside. She had never needed to be prepared... she had always adapted.

And she would again.

Because she would not accept his death.

Not when she had another way.

---

Non-Mission Message:

From Rachel: Thank you Jessica for incorporating Gemma into this. Love the way it came out.

From Jessica: Now we have a working plan for the crew as a whole, but we are still dealing with one uncertainty. Can Maya accurately replicate the Yautja dampening field? Will it work onc the bio-weapon is activated? Why was Nathan the first and how was he infected with the unaltered bio-weapon?  These questions and many more might be answered in our next post, so stay tuned and find out.

---

Rachel Jackie Johnson

Lieutenant Gemma

Intel Operative

USS ANUBIS

[The fun is getting to wear multiple disguises and getting to explore multiple personalities and bring them to life. - Jenna Fischer]

and

Jessica Solarik

Lieutenant Commander Maya

Chief Science Officer

USS ANUBIS

"To see the world in a grain of sand,

and eternity in an hour."

- William Blake (British, 1757-1827)

"Fate and Regrets"

Previous post: "Unexpected Visitor"

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1900

T’Lara stood at the central diagnostic console, eyes scanning the data streams as Sickbay buzzed with renewed focused urgency. The medical and science teams worked in tandem, their collective efforts pushing the boundaries of their understanding to generate the Yautja dampening field. If successful, the field would buy them time,... time that, for Nathan, had all but run out.

The doors to Sickbay slid open, and Christie, accompanied by her mother Cristhiane, hurried inside. The glimmer of hope in their eyes was unmistakable. “We did it!” Christie exclaimed. “We heard the good news. The field will stop the pathogen! Nathan’s going to be okay, right?”

T’Lara exhaled slowly, controlling the pang of regret that threatened to surface. She turned to face them, her expression measured but the weight of reality pressing heavily in her gaze. “The dampening field, once generated and if successful, we hope will stop the progression of the pathogen, but the neurological damage is… irreversible.”

Christie’s expression crumbled, her eyes darting toward Nathan’s unconscious form. “No… No, that can’t be right. We stopped it! We just need more time, don’t we?”

T’Lara hesitated for a fraction of a second, an eternity in Vulcan terms, but she could not provide false hope. “Had we possessed knowledge of the original bio-weapon before the Yautja modifications, we might have acted sooner and in a more precise manner… We might have been able to slow or even stop the spread before the damage became too extensive.”

The weight of those words struck like a hammer. Christie’s breath hitched, her hands curling into fists. She lowered her gaze, her body trembling. “This is my fault.”

Cristhiane’s head snapped toward her daughter, brows furrowing. “Christie...”

“No!” Christie interrupted, stepping back. Her voice cracked under the weight of her confession. “Nathan found it because of me. The vial... the necklace... I lost it when they transported me to their training matrix. It must have fallen when they took me, and… Nathan picked it up. It broke.” Her voice wavered as realization overtook her. “That’s how he got infected.”

Cristhiane inhaled sharply, visibly stricken. “The vial… from the Romulan lab?”

"Yes mom," Christie sighed. "I've known about the content of the vial since pretty much day one. You made it into a necklace in the hope that it would somehow protect us. I never questioned it, and in some ways, I cherished it as a reminder of what you went through to get me out of there. I should never have lost it. It should be me on that bed... dying."

T’Lara’s eyes sharpened at the revelation, logic connecting the pieces almost instantaneously. “Describe it.”

Cristhiane, torn between anguish and residual caution, hesitated before answering. “It was labeled in Romulan, but I... I didn’t know what was inside. I knew it was important, so I took it.”

Shar’El, who had remained quietly observing, stepped forward. “If you saw the label, I may be able to retrieve that memory.”

T’Lara gave a single, curt nod. “That information may allow us to trace the bio-weapon’s origins. If I can identify the base compound, we will have a foundation to develop a counteragent.”

Shar’El’s gaze swept over Cristhiane, silently seeking consent. The older woman closed her eyes for a moment before nodding stiffly. “Do it.”

T’Lara watched, her internal barriers fraying under the strain of the moment. Christie was unraveling before her, drowning in guilt, while Cristhiane faced the weight of her own distrust. The emotional chaos swirled around her like an impending storm, but she remained still, her hands pressed lightly against the console.

She would do everything in her power to neutralize the bio-weapon. To protect the rest of the crew. To prevent another tragedy.

But she would not allow herself to hope. “Hope,” after all, was illogical.

=-=

Dawn Bohr

Lt. Commander T'Lara

Chief Medical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

=-=

"History of Pain"

Previous post: "Fate and Regrets" by the practical and logical Dawn

=-=

Setting:  USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1905

Shar’El inhaled deeply, steadying herself as she placed her hands gently on either side of Cristhiane’s temples. The mother stiffened under her touch, instinctively resisting. Shar’El had done this countless times before, sifting through memories, extracting the truth buried beneath layers of deception, trauma, or time. But this was different.

Cristhiane wasn’t just withholding the memories; she was distorting them, burying them beneath years of emotional scars. Her subconscious fought back, twisting the recollection into a tangle of fragmented images and fractured emotions.

“Stay with me, Cristhiane,” Shar’El said in a measured tone, her voice a tether to the present. “I need you to breathe. Don’t fight me… Guide me to the moment you took the vial.”

Cristhiane’s breathing stopped only to restart seconds later, her mind instinctively recoiling from what lay beneath. A whirlwind of memories swirled to the surface: betrayal, whispered lies, an older Romulan scientist with a younger half-bred by his side, her lover, her captor, the father of her child. Shar’El felt the weight of heartbreak as Cristhiane relived it. The look of satisfaction on his face as he handed their daughter over to his father. The sound of her own screams echoing in the sterile chamber. Helplessness. Rage.

Shar’El’s hold tightened slightly. “Cristhiane, I know this pain is real, but we need to go further. We need to focus. You have to let me in, I cannot break through without hurting you, and I do not want to do that... you have already been hurt too much. I am here to help."

The memories continued to spiral out of control. The cold metal restraints biting into Cristhiane’s wrists. The chilling clinical detachment in the Romulan scientist’s voice as he discussed his ‘experiment.’ The desperate, stolen moment when she cradled her daughter... too young, too fragile... in her arms before she fled.

Cristhiane’s pulse was rapid beneath Shar’El’s fingers. “No,” she gasped, voice raw. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Shar’El countered firmly, pushing through the web of anguish. “Focus on the lab. The moment you took the vial. Everything else, push it aside. It’s not real now. It’s only a distant memory.”

A shudder passed through Cristhiane, but slowly, she obeyed. The anguish faded, giving way to clarity. The sterile, dimly lit Romulan lab materialized around them. The steady beeping of equipment. The faint hum of power coursing through medical consoles. The vials... lined neatly on a table, labeled in Romulan script.

“Yes,” Shar’El encouraged. “You’re there. Look at the labels.”

The words wavered, shifting like ink in water. Trauma still threatened to obscure them. Cristhiane clenched her jaw, her forehead creased in concentration. “It’s… project designation RX-17,” she murmured. “High-priority research.”

Shar’El locked the memory in place. “Good. Now look beyond the vials. What else was there?”

Cristhiane’s eyes moved as if reading invisible words. “A screen. Medical data. It showed… the biochemical formula.”

Shar’El could see it now, faint, but solidifying as Cristhiane focused. A Romulan medical display, its glowing script detailing chemical compositions, reaction pathways, virological impacts. “Read it,” she instructed.

Cristhiane exhaled shakily and recited, her voice steady despite the tremors running through her. “The pathogen’s structure is unstable, designed to mutate rapidly in host physiology. Core components include…” She hesitated before rattling off a sequence of biochemical compounds.

T’Lara, who had been listening intently, absorbed the information with clinical precision. “That may be enough,” she confirmed. “I can cross-reference known Romulan biochemical structures. It’s a start.”

Shar’El finally withdrew her hands, severing the connection. Cristhiane sagged forward, gripping the edge of the nearest console as if steadying herself against the weight of her own past.

“Thank you,” Shar’El said softly.

Cristhiane swallowed hard, her eyes distant. “I should’ve destroyed those vials the moment I had the chance.”

Shar’El exchanged a glance with T’Lara. “Perhaps,” she said. “But right now, your memory might be the key to saving lives.”

Cristhiane didn’t reply. Her eyes slowly drifted to her daughter and beyond her, the boy whom Christie had befriended and was now dying because of the liquid she had taken out of spite for all the pain that had been inflicted on her and her daughter.

=-=

Tiffany Reeve

Commander Shar'El

Executive Officer

USS ANUBIS

AND

Cristhiane M

Cristhiane Smith

Mother of Christie Smith

Civilian guest

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

"Unbridled Rage"

Previous post: "History of Pain” by Tiffany and Cristhiane

Setting:  USS ANUBIS, Lopez Quarters

Stardate: 44355.1910

Amanda stirred awake to the faintest sound, an irregular, muffled thud against the floor. Her mind was still sluggish from exhaustion, but something about the noise sent an instinctive alarm through her body. She pushed herself upright, blinking in the dim light of Adriana’s quarters, heart pounding for a reason she couldn’t yet name.

Then she heard it again. A strained, gasping breath. A choking sound.

Fear shot through her veins like ice as she turned toward the source. Somewhere in the living room.

“Adriana?” Her voice wavered as she swung her legs over the bed, her bare feet hitting the carpeted floor.

No response. Just another strangled breath.

Amanda moved before she could think, her body driven by sheer terror. And then she saw her...

Adriana was on the floor, her body wracked with violent convulsions. Her limbs twitched uncontrollably, her fingers curled in rigid spasms. Her eyes were open but unfocused, locked in some distant, terrifying place. Foam gathered at the edges of her lips, her chest rising and falling in erratic, stuttering movements.

Amanda dropped to her knees beside her, hands shaking as she reached for her sister. “No, no, no... Adriana! Stay with me!”

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she grabbed Adriana’s shoulders, but her sister’s body was rigid, jerking with unnatural force. The sight was horrifying, too similar to what she had seen in Nathan, too close to the reality she refused to accept.

“This isn’t happening,” Amanda whispered, panic clawing up her throat. “Not now. Not after everything.”

Desperation fueled her as she scrambled for the comm panel. Her fingers slammed against the control, nearly missing in her frantic rush.

“Amanda Lopez to Sickbay... medical emergency! Adriana is...” Her voice cracked as she turned back to her sister, watching helplessly as the convulsions worsened. “She’s seizing! Get someone here now!”

Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall. She cradled Adriana’s head as best she could, trying to keep her from thrashing against the floor. “Just hold on,” she begged, her voice breaking. “You hear me? You are not leaving me! I just got you back... please, just hold on!”

The seconds stretched into an eternity as she waited for help to arrive, her mind screaming that this couldn’t be happening. Not to Adriana. Not now. Not after all they had survived.

But fate, it seemed, wasn’t done with them yet.

===

Setting:  USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1915

With Adriana restrained by a forcefield on one of the biobeds, Amanda sat by her twin, watching her drift in and out of consciousness. Although focused on the state of her twin sister, Amanda could hear the conversation happening nearby. T’Lara and Maya, their voices a steady anchor in the chaos. She forced herself to focus, catching fragments of their conversation.

“Shar’El was able to extract critical data from Cristhiane’s memories,” Maya was saying. “The Romulan lab, the original bio-weapon, the bio-chemical formula of the liquid that was in the vial... thanks to that information, we can start formulating a cure.”

“The dampening field is nearly ready,” T’Lara added. “The data you gathered from Gemma was exactly what we needed. If successful, it will stop the pathogen’s progression, giving us the time we need.”

Amanda wanted to hold onto the relief those words should have brought, but exhaustion weighed her down. The bio-weapon was ravaging her twin, stripping away her control. Amanda's mind struggled to make sense of what was happening, balancing the pros and cons of everything surrounding her while her gaze remained on her twin sister.

A shadow shifted beside her, followed by a sharp intake of breath. Then, the scent hit her... Cristhiane.

The quiet stillness of Sickbay was suddenly broken by Amanda’s voice, sharp and raw with fury.

“You did this!” she screamed, her eyes locked onto Cristhiane with unrelenting accusation. “You and your damn vial! You put her in danger, you put all of us in danger!”

Cristhiane didn’t answer at first. She stood rigid, arms wrapped around herself as though trying to hold in the weight of her own guilt. It was Christie who responded, stepping between her mother and Amanda with barely contained anger.

“That’s not fair!” Christie shot back, her voice shaking. “We’re all trying to survive this! Do you think she wanted this to happen? Nathan is dying, Amanda! And...” her voice cracked, but she forced herself to continue, “... and he’s like a brother to us.”

Amanda’s breath came in sharp gasps, her hands clenched into trembling fists. “No, he’s not,” she spat. “We survived together, we fought together, but we are not family. This...” she pointed toward Adriana, her body still lying motionless on the biobed, “... she is my sister! She is my family! And your mother is the reason she’s in this bed! Dying!”

“Amanda, please,” Maya interjected, her voice strained but calm. “The dampening field is nearly ready. If it works the way we expect, it will stop the progression of the pathogen and...”

“I don’t care!” Amanda cut her off, her voice laced with desperation. “None of that matters if she dies!”

Before anyone could respond, the ship’s systems let out a low hum as the Yautja dampening field came online. Immediately, Adriana’s convulsions eased, her trembling body relaxing as though a weight had been lifted. A deep, shuddering breath left her lips, her tense muscles loosening as stability returned to her neural functions.

T’Lara’s sharp Vulcan eyes were already scanning the readings. “Her neurological response is stabilizing,” she announced, her tone even, yet resolute. “The dampening field is working.”

But Amanda didn’t seem to register the words. Her fury remained unchecked, her mind too clouded by fear and rage to accept reason.

“She’s still in that bed because of you!” she continued, jabbing a finger at Cristhiane. “You stole something from a Romulan lab without knowing what it was! You took a risk with all our lives! And for what, exactly?”

Cristhiane’s silence only fueled Amanda’s fury. The older woman’s expression was hollow, pain buried beneath layers of shame. Christie turned to Amanda with desperate eyes, pleading for reason. “You don’t understand! We were doing what we had to! Nathan...”

Amanda let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Nathan is dying because of your mother’s choices! And if my sister dies, that’s on her too.”

“Amanda, that is enough,” T’Lara said, stepping forward. Her voice was firm, cutting through the chaos with the precision of a scalpel.

Amanda turned on her, eyes wild. “Don’t tell me what’s enough! I won’t lose my sister again! I won’t...”

Her breath hitched, and her legs nearly gave out beneath her. Her entire body trembled, her emotions having pushed her to the very edge of control.

“This is not productive,” T’Lara stated coldly. Without further warning, she reached for a hypospray and pressed it against Amanda’s neck.

Amanda barely had time to react before her body gave in, the sedative sweeping through her system like a heavy tide. Her fury melted into disoriented confusion, then unconsciousness as she crumpled forward. T’Lara caught her with effortless precision, lowering her onto a nearby biobed.

“She required sedation,” the Vulcan stated simply, meeting the stunned eyes of everyone around her. “This argument served no purpose, and her distress was neither beneficial to her nor to anyone else.”

The room was left in silence, save for the rhythmic beeping of the medical monitors.

T’Lara turned back to the readings above Adriana’s bed, her voice the only thing filling the void. “The dampening field is a success. Now, we focus on the cure.”

-=-=-

Marissa Montonera-Lombardi

Lieutenant JG Adriana Lopez

Ship's Counselor & Junior Ambassador

USS ANUBIS

=-=

"Situational Update"

Previous post: "Unbridled Rage" by the power-writer Marissa

=-=

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1915

Shar’El stepped back into Sickbay, her eyes quickly scanning the room. She had left briefly to report to Captain Morningstar, but even in that short time, the weight of the situation had only deepened.

Adriana lay still on the biobed, the faint glow of the localized Yautja dampening field keeping her stable for now. Amanda, unconscious but visibly exhausted, had been moved to another bed. Near them stood T’Lara and Maya, focused on their medical efforts, while Cristhiane and Christie remained off to the side, tension hanging thick around them.

The echoes of Amanda’s earlier outburst still clung to the air. Shar’El didn’t need telepathic abilities to sense the emotional wreckage left behind. But she also knew the truth... the full truth. She had seen it in Cristhiane’s memories. The fear. The desperation. The impossible choices forced upon her and her daughter in their years of captivity.

She stepped closer, her presence commanding attention without a single word.

“How is she?” she asked, her voice measured.

T’Lara barely glanced up from the readings. “Counselor Lopez remains stable. The dampening field is suppressing the effects of the bio-weapon, but this is a temporary solution. We require the cure.”

Maya, despite her exhaustion, nodded in agreement. “We’re making progress, but it’s slow. Without the full formula, we’re working with partial data. The dampening field gives us time, but we are working as quickly as we can.”

Shar’El exhaled quietly. Time. It was always the enemy.

Her gaze shifted toward Cristhiane, who remained silent, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if holding in the weight of her own guilt. Beside her, Christie stood rigid, ready to defend her mother from any more accusations.

Shar’El met Cristhiane’s eyes, holding them for a long moment. There was no accusation in her stare, no judgment. Only understanding.

“This is not your fault,” she said simply.

Cristhiane flinched, as though expecting something harsher. “Amanda doesn’t see it that way,” she whispered.

“She is in pain,” Shar’El replied. “Fear and grief have sharpened her words, but that does not make them the truth.”

Christie swallowed hard, her emotions barely contained. “We were just trying to survive,” she said, voice trembling. “Nathan... he’s dying, too. We didn’t know.”

Shar’El gave a small nod. “I know.”

There was nothing more to say on the matter. No further blame to cast, no pointless debate over what had already happened. There was only the reality in front of them: Adriana still needed to be saved, and time was, as always, an unpredictable adversary.

She turned back to Maya and T’Lara. “You have everything I retrieved from Cristhiane’s memories?”

Maya nodded. “Yes. Between that and the data we gathered from Gemma, we have the pieces. Now, we just have to put them together.”

“Then I won’t waste any more of your time,” Shar’El said. “Keep me informed the moment you have something.”

T’Lara inclined her head slightly. “Understood.”Shar’El cast one final glance at Amanda, still deep in unconsciousness. She had fought so hard for her sister, for this reunion, only to be faced with the very real possibility of losing her.

The ExO knew the universe was cruel and merciless, but there were times when even she silently pleaded for a reprieve. Enough was enough, as the Terran saying went, now... if only the universe listened.

Steeling herself, Shar’El turned and exited Sickbay, already shifting her focus to the next battle ahead. Nathan.

=-=

Tiffany Reeve

Commander Shar'El

Executive Officer

USS ANUBIS

##########

"Seeking Ghosts"

Previous post: "Situational Update" by Tiffany

##########

"The dead tell no tales... but sometimes, their silence speaks volumes."

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Cargo Bay 7

Stardate: 44355.1920

Captain Morningstar stepped into Cargo Bay 7, the dim lighting casting long shadows over the rows of torpedo casings lined up in solemn silence. Each bore the name of a fallen crewmember, a stark reminder of the price they had paid. The reports of "ghosts" within the bay had intrigued him—not out of fear, but due to a deep-rooted fascination with the unknown, a trait inherited from his Native American heritage.

He moved with quiet reverence past the coffins, pausing at one in particular… Satella Bruxa. Her post-mortem message had been one of light, hope, and unwavering kindness. Even in death, she sought to comfort those left behind. He let out a slow breath, brushing his fingers along the cool metal of her torpedo casing before moving on.

Further down, he reached the resting places of George and Simone, two civilians who had made the ultimate sacrifice during the harrowing escape from the Yautja Training Matrix. Their selflessness had ensured the survival of so many. He bowed his head in silent gratitude.

Then, something caught his eye.

The seal on Simone’s casket was broken.

His pulse quickened as he crouched to inspect it. The reinforced locking mechanism had been forced open, its edges bent and twisted as if someone… or something… had pried it apart. A chill ran down his spine.

Why would anyone disturb the body of an elderly woman? And more importantly… who had done it?

The silence of the cargo bay suddenly felt suffocating, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him. Erik straightened, his senses on high alert. He thought back to the mission report—the away team’s harrowing encounter with the Lokustaar and Yautja, two deadly adversaries, both capable of self-cloaking. The Lokustaar did so biologically, while the Yautja relied on advanced personal cloaking technology, not unlike that used by the Jem’Hadar.

If either species was involved, stealth was key. Not wanting to alert a possible intruder that he was on to them, Erik quietly stepped out of the cargo bay. He needed to relay this personally… and there was only one person he trusted to handle this properly.

He went to find Ya’Han.

--==(/\)==--

Francois Charette

Captain Erik Morningstar

Commanding Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

-=-=-

"Ghosts?"

Previous post: "Seeking Ghosts” by Francois

-=-=-

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Security Office

Stardate: 44355.1925

Ya'Han's hair was black when Captain Morningstar found her in the dimly lit Security office, alone... a subtle yet unmistakable sign that something was amiss. It was rare for her to display that particular color due to the implications it carried, but Erik chose not to comment. The grimness in his eyes was enough to shift her focus immediately.

"Captain?" she prompted, straightening.

"Computer, initiate a level 5 privacy forcefield sealing this room," Morningstar ordered, wasting no time. He recounted and explained what he had discovered in Cargo Bay 7... the broken seal on Simone’s casket, the eerie silence that followed, and the unsettling possibility of an intruder aboard the ANUBIS. As he spoke, Ya'Han's eyes narrowed, and her hair shifted instinctively, dark strands bleeding into a brilliant, battle-ready red.

"A Lokustaar or Yautja," she concluded coldly, her mind already processing the implications. "It must have slipped aboard during the chaotic beam-out of the rescued Terrans. If it’s hiding, it’s not alone by choice… it’s gathering information… or looking for something. Either way, this is something we have to address immediately."

Morningstar gave a grim nod, his eyes sharp. "We need to locate it without tipping our hand. If it senses we’re on to it, we could lose any chance of tracking it down."

Ya'Han's expression hardened. "Agreed. I’ll need Jayson’s help... his knowledge of the ANUBIS's systems could give us an edge. If there's an intruder, he'll find a trace. Even if cloaked, there will be subtle indicators we can use, but we'll have to proceed carefully. Any sign that we're searching could force it to act prematurely. I will need access to all of the reports of 'ghosts' since our return to the ANUBIS. There might be a pattern we can exploit."

"Of course, I trust your judgment," the Captain replied. "Keep me updated. Computer, terminate forcefield."

As Morningstar turned to leave, Ya'Han tapped her comm badge. "Ya'Han to Jayson... meet me in Cargo Bay 7. We have a situation."

Her voice was steady, but the faintest edge betrayed her urgency. If either the Lokustaar or Yautja were aboard, every second counted, yet rushing could trigger an unwanted confrontation. This was going to be a delicate and exceptionally dangerous game of hide and seek... one misstep could spell disaster. She took a steadying breath, readying herself for the task ahead. Losing was not an option... it never was.

-=-=-

Hanali Han

Lieutenant Ya'Han

Chief of Security / Tactical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

"A Ghostly Trap"

Previous post: "Ghosts?" by Hanali

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Cargo Bay 7

Stardate: 44355.1935

Jayson followed Ya'Han into Cargo Bay 7, his posture relaxed, his hands moving to his engineering kit as if preparing for a simple repair. To anyone watching, this was nothing more than a routine maintenance check, a response to the Captain's concerns about an unusual high-pitched hum. But both officers knew the real reason they were here. If there truly was something hidden in the room, it was watching them now.

Ya'Han gave Jayson a subtle nod, the signal to begin. With practiced ease, he exaggerated his movements, making a show of inspecting the power relay before muttering a string of curses. He pulled out a hyperspanner and slammed it against the casing, sending a loud clang reverberating through the cargo bay. He grumbled loudly, his voice carrying through the cavernous space.

"Of course, it's fused," Jayson huffed, shaking his head dramatically. "Figures this would happen now of all times."

Ya'Han barely heard him. She had already moved, her steps silent as she approached the casket that held Satella's body. For anyone observing, it would seem as though she was simply paying her respects, which in a way she did, taking a moment to kneel beside the fallen doctor. But beneath the veil of solemnity, her fingers worked quickly, deftly affixing the motion detector to the casing’s side. The small device, no larger than a combadge, was an Intelligence tool from Gemma's arsenal. It was more than just sensitive, it was absolute in its function, designed to detect movement in any state: cloaked, phased, temporally displaced. Nothing could hide from it.

As she finished securing the detector, Ya'Han cast a glance toward Jayson. He was keeping up his act well, but she could see the tension in his stance. He knew what this mission meant. If a Lokustaar or a Yautja truly was in here, a single attack could be fatal. The thought made her chest tighten. She didn’t want him to be hurt, not for this, not for anything.

She stood, exhaling slowly, and turned away from the casket. The device was in place. Now, they had to leave without making it obvious that anything had changed.

Jayson groaned dramatically as he tapped his communicator. "Stark to Bridge. I think we found the problem, but it’s going to take some time to recalibrate the relay. We’ll have to come back after finishing a few other checks."

As he spoke, Ya'Han shifted her hand slightly, her fingers forming the number seven where only Jayson could see. Seven reports. Seven unexplained encounters. Seven reasons to believe that whatever was in here, it wasn’t just a ghost.

They exited the cargo bay at a normal pace, neither rushing nor lingering. Once outside, they waited for a few seconds, forcing themselves to breathe evenly. If something was in there, it wouldn’t move right away. And if it was outside in the corridor with them, they needed to maintain their cover.

"Come on," Ya'Han said, her voice steady. "Let’s check the next set of relays."

With that, they walked away, leaving the motion detector behind... waiting to reveal whatever unseen threat lurked within Cargo Bay 7.

=-=

Jayson Sousa

Lieutenant JG A'Janni

Flight Control Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

Lieutenant Jayson Stark

Chief of Operations

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

=-=

“Do Not Cross”

Previous post: “A Ghostly Trap” by Jason

=-=

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck 20, Training Area

Stardate: 44355.1936

LtJG Zub Enel handed off the heavy weapon to the Terran, Lance Corporal Diaz (callsign “Viper”). She shifted her feet and thrust her hips forward to help take its weight. Her dark eyes glowed with excitement. “Oh sir, it’s so big!”

A two-meter high Lurian, MACO Sergeant Mi’Teh (callsign “Ghost”) guffawed at her joke as he held an identical beam weapon. “Let’s fire these babies up!” He brought the massive thing up two-handed and rested it on his broad shoulder.

Not to be out-lifted, Viper got her weapon seated on her shoulder. It made a series of rapid whirs and clicks. Lights winked on and cycled from red to yellow to green.

“Hold!” Zub ordered. “Final check first.”

He looked at the MACO engineer, a reedy Andorian (callsign “Sparks”). “Are these things ready to test fire?”

“You bet, Skipper.”

“You said that last time and all we got was smoke.”

The Andorian’s blue face looked sheepish for a moment. “What do you expect, sir? I’m a combat engineer trained to blow stuff up, not build new weapons. I had the plasma inverters cross-wired. The physics is backward with antimatter. That’s solved.”

Zub raised his eyebrows which raised his head crest. “So, good to go?”

“Yes, sir.”

Facing the facilities far wall, both Viper and Ghost adjusted their shoulder under their weapon in anticipation.

Zub had to shoo a couple of marines away who were peering at the complicated array of lenses on the front of the weapons. “Alright. Range is clear. We will fire in sequence. Ghost first. Then Diaz. Understood?”

A duet of “sir!” sounded from the shooters.

“Ghost! Fire!”

The weapon gave off a roar. A beam as thick as a leg emitted from the business end. Ghost braced himself against the thrust. The beam blazed bright blue and was snaked through with red streaks. Not perfectly straight, the beam wavered and wobbled down to the end of the firing range. The ablative armor that protected the rear wall glowed faint amber.

Enel had to bellow over the noise. “Viper! Fire!”

The room became so loud that the marines standing around spectating had to cover their ears. Viper’s beam was just as thick and just as wobbly. It was opposite colors: bright red shot through with brilliant blue. The armor patch at the back wall glowed brighter yellow.

The beams wandered and bent with rotating sine waves making them cover a lot of space.

Sparks shouted, “The beams shouldn’t touch, sir! They’ll annihilate each other and they are packing a lot of energy.”

Zub Enel bellowed “Cease fire! Cease fire!”

Viper’s beam cut off immediately. She lowered her smoking weapon across her hips and grinned at it.

Ghost kept firing. He turned his head and looked to Zub Enel concerned. “Stuck!” To his credit, he kept the weapon aimed at the wall. The wall armor was bright enough to radiate heat back to where the crew stood.

Zub slapped Sparks’ shoulder. Sparks was looking more than a little puzzled. The thin Andorian stepped closer to Ghost, balled a fist and pounded the trigger housing hard despite Ghost’s big finger sticking through it. The beam cut out.

The silence was so sudden that Zub felt staggered. The room stank of ozone. The ablative armor patch cooled down to amber. Marines began to cough and laugh. Ghost lowered his weapon. His trigger finger hung at an odd angle from the knuckle closest to his hand. He grinned, apparently unfazed by having a finger broken. He said to Sparks, “This thing is getting close to beautiful.”

Zub Enel scowled. “Except you can’t reliably shut it off and what’s the thing about beams not crossing?”

Sparks had that far away look Zub had seen on many a regular Starfleet engineer. He was already critically assessing the weapons performance. “The whole idea of these weapons is to aim one at a target and if that is not destroying it, aim the other at the target and the crossed beams should blow it apart.”

“And that’s not a flaw?”

The Andorian engineer grinned. “A feature!”

=-=

David Michael Inverso

Lieutenant JG Zub Enel

MCO

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

“Listen... you smell something?”

- Dr. Raymond Stantz, Ghostbusters, 1984

"Gemma's Ghosts"

Previous post: "Do Not Cross"

Location: USS ANUBIS, Cargo Bay 7

Stardate: 44355.1945

The soft hiss of the cargo bay doors sliding open was the only sound breaking the silence as Gemma stepped inside. The vast room, dimly lit by overhead illumination set to low power, stretched before her in an eerie display of solemnity. Lined in perfect rows, the 29 torpedo tubes stood in silent vigil, 27 housing a fallen crewmember, and the other two were for George and Simone. Among them, the casket holding Doctor Satella Bruxa stood out, though Gemma refused to let it distract her. The young doctor's post-mortem message had been a bittersweet farewell... far too kind for someone like her.

Ghost sightings. Seven of them, according to Ya'Han and Captain Morningstar. Seven unexplained readings. Seven potential threats lurking in the shadows.

Gemma didn't believe in ghosts.

Her nanites detected no irregularities as she stepped further into the bay, her senses on high alert. The personalities within her mind stirred, each offering their own thoughts on the matter. Some were fascinated by the idea, eager to explore the unknown. Others dismissed the notion outright, demanding logic and proof over superstition.

But Gemma had another theory.

The Terran evacuation had been chaotic, an opportunity for something... or someone... to slip aboard unnoticed. If it was a Lokustaar or a Yautja, she needed to know. Needed to confirm if one of the galaxy's deadliest hunters was lurking in the shadows of their ship. Ya'Han and Jayson had even taken the liberty of installing one of her own motion detectors in the room, covertly, of course. If there was something cloaked in Cargo Bay 7, it wouldn't remain hidden for long.

That was what she was counting on.

Still, she couldn't deny the weight pressing against her mind. The unanswered questions. The mounting frustrations. The fact that Nathan was dying, and she had nothing. No data, no solutions, no way to cure the bio-weapon that was killing him. Yes, the discovery of the dampening field had bought them time, and stopped the bio-weapon from spreading. Still, it was only a temporary solution unless everyone currently aboard the ANUBIS remained there... for the rest of their lives.

The Yautja training matrix had given her glimpses, flashes of understanding, but it wasn't enough. She needed more. That is why she was here, hoping that a member of the inter-dimensional hunter race was here, hiding, waiting. She would force the information out of him, even if it meant pushing herself past the point of no return.

And then there was GAMMA.

The enigmatic, flickering presence buried deep in her mind. A puzzle she couldn't solve. A gatekeeper withholding something vital about her past. About who she had been before waking up on a treatment table in Section I of NEW ALEXANDRIA with no memories... just a fractured nameplate that read "G_MMA."

She knew GAMMA was hiding something. And she was running out of patience.

A faint, almost imperceptible shift in the air pulled her from her thoughts.

She went still.

Something moved.

The motion detector, hidden within the confines of the room and programmed to ignore her, remained silent. No alert. No reading. But Gemma had spent too many years in the field to ignore the instincts that had kept her alive. She wasn't alone.

Hand hovering near the weapon concealed at her hip, she turned her head slowly, scanning the cargo bay. The dim lighting cast long shadows against the caskets, adding to the oppressive stillness. Her enhanced vision adjusted to the darkness, filtering through infrared and electromagnetic spectrums.

Nothing.

Yet the feeling remained.

A ghost, or something far worse?

The corners of her lips curled into the faintest smirk.

"Come on then," she murmured under her breath. "Let's see what you are."

=-=

Rachel Jackie Johnson

Lieutenant Gemma

Intel Operative

USS ANUBIS

[The fun is getting to wear multiple disguises and getting to explore multiple personalities and bring them to life. - Jenna Fischer]

"Unexpected Phenomenon"

Previous post: "Gemma's Ghosts"

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.1950

=/\= Gemma to Doctor T'Lara, =/\= The voice of the ILO over the comm channel had been unexpected, but the tone of bewilderment was what caught the Vulcan/Romulan physician off-guard.

"Yes, Lieutenant, go ahead," T'Lara replied. A raised eyebrow was the only sign of intrigue she allowed to show.

=/\= I need you and Lt. Commander Maya to come to Cargo Bay 7, =/\= Gemma unceremoniously said. =/\= There is something here that I need you two to see. =/\=

=-=

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Corridor -> Cargo Bay 7

Stardate: 44355.1952

The journey to Cargo Bay 7 was accompanied by an unspoken tension. T’Lara walked with measured precision, her hands clasped neatly behind her back, her sharp green eyes fixed forward. Maya kept pace beside her, the scientist’s mind clearly running through the same calculations that troubled her own.

“I fail to see the logical necessity of this detour,” T’Lara stated at last, breaking the silence. “Our time would be better spent in the lab analyzing the bio-weapon’s molecular composition. Every moment we delay reduces our chances of success.”

“Gemma believes this information is relevant,” Maya countered, though uncertainty tinged her voice. “If the Yautja possess bio-engineering advancements that parallel or even inform the Romulan modifications, then this could be the missing piece of our analysis.”

T’Lara arched an eyebrow. “That is an improbable hypothesis.”

“And yet, we are here.”

The cargo bay doors slid open with a quiet hiss. The subdued lighting inside cast elongated shadows against the rows of torpedo casings, giving the room a somber weight. It took T’Lara precisely 0.78 seconds to register the oppressive stillness. The air, though mechanically regulated, seemed heavier. She stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over the caskets, taking note of the ILO standing near the end of one of the rows, her attention cast upwards.

And then she saw it.

A figure, barely discernible, flickering at the edge of her vision. Her mind instinctively sought logical explanations: a light anomaly, a malfunctioning emitter, perhaps even a stress-induced hallucination, unlikely as that was. But no... this was not a trick of the light. The outline wavered, shifting between visibility and absence, its form indistinct yet eerily humanoid.

Maya inhaled sharply as she quickly reached for her tricorder. “Did you see...?”

“I see it.” T’Lara’s voice was steady, though her posture tensed in microscopic degrees. Her Vulcan training kept her mind calm, but her Romulan instincts itched beneath the surface, alert and poised for danger.

The figure did not move. Not immediately. And then...

A whisper of motion. A ripple in the air.

T’Lara took a measured step forward, observing, calculating, opening her own medical tricorder, and scanning the levitating humanoid figure. No bio-signatures registered. Yet there it was, standing, watching.

“Gemma,” T’Lara said evenly, though a hint of expectation underpinned her tone. “I assume this is the anomaly in question?”

From the darkness, Gemma’s voice emerged. “You tell me, Doctor. May I suggest setting your instrument to a phase variant of 2.116? You will obtain better readings at that setting.”

The figure flickered again, shifting slightly, and for a fraction of a second, its form became clearer. Not a ghost. Not entirely. But something else. Something impossibly familiar.

"Simone?" Christie gasped. She and her mother had followed the doctor and scientist, driven by both curiosity and the desperate hope that whatever was here could help save Nathan’s life.

=-=

Dawn Bohr

Lt. Commander T'Lara

Chief Medical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

---

"An Echo of What Was"

(Previous Post: "Unexpected Phenomenon")

---

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Cargo Bay 7

Stardate: 44355.1955

Maya's fingers moved with practiced precision over her tricorder, her mind already leaping ahead to potential explanations as she adjusted the sensor parameters to the phase variant Gemma had provided. The moment the calibration took effect, the readings shifted... where before the spectrographic data had returned little more than noise, now a pattern emerged. The anomaly was not a mere optical trick or random energy displacement. It had structure, composition.

The readings were unmistakable... Bio-energy. Whatever this thing was, it possessed a distinct echo of life, but how was that possible?

“This is not a simple photonic projection,” Maya murmured, her voice layered with equal parts fascination and urgency. “The readings indicate a concentration of phase-shifted bio-energetic emissions, the signature of which is distinct but not unlike the neurological imprints one might expect in a telepathic echo.”

T’Lara arched a single, skeptical brow. “Are you suggesting this is an imprint of Simone’s consciousness?”

Maya hesitated, then shook her head. “No, not consciousness as we define it. Rather, what we are observing is the extravasation of stored neural energy. A decaying pattern, the remnants of something once structured. This entity is not thinking, not in the traditional sense. It is… leaking.”

Gemma exhaled sharply, folding her arms. “Leaking from where?”

Maya turned toward the casket, already suspecting the answer. She strode forward and ran a deeper scan, her heart quickening as new data scrolled across the tricorder’s display. “The source is here. Simone’s body.”

Christie made a noise of protest, stepping forward as if to shield the casket from whatever Maya’s words implied, but the scientist had already activated the high-resolution neurographic overlay. The image displayed on the tricorder sent a chill through her.

Implants. Embedded deep within Simone’s cerebral tissue.

“Nods,” Maya whispered, more to herself than anyone else. “Yautja neurological interface nods, somewhat similar to Borg data nods.”

Gemma took in the information, her mind rushing through the implications, both internal and external.

T’Lara’s expression darkened slightly. “That should have been detected during the initial beam-out.”

Gemma was already shaking her head. “We didn’t have time. Transporter bio-filters were barely functional in the chaos. The priority was getting them out alive. Those that didn’t… weren’t subjected to full scans. We assumed...”

“That they were beyond saving,” Christie finished bitterly.

Maya barely registered the words, her mind spinning through the implications. The nods were familiar, but not identical to the ones she had seen from the scans of the training Matrix interface pods. These were older, less refined. An earlier iteration, perhaps? A failed prototype? Whatever their purpose, they had stored something... memories, imprints, neurological fragments... and now, as Simone’s physical form decayed, the energy was escaping, manifesting in the only way it knew how.

“She is not a ghost,” Maya finally said. “Not in the spiritual sense. This is a bio-energetic remnant, a residual phase imprint of her mind. A phenomenon rarely seen outside of extreme telepathic trauma or deliberate psionic encoding. The nods must have recorded segments of her experience within the Yautja training Matrix. And now…” She gestured toward the wavering figure. “The phase energy is seeping out, projecting what remains of those fragments.”

Christie swallowed hard. “But why does she look like Simone? Not just a blur or an amorphous shape?”

Maya exhaled. “That… I cannot explain. Science dictates that energy disperses along entropic lines, yet in this case, it has coalesced into a form that mirrors her in life. There is no logical reason for that.”

T’Lara studied the projection, then turned her cool gaze back to Maya. “You have no scientific explanation?”

Maya’s lips parted, but no words came. Because, for once, she had none.

---

Jessica Solarik

Lieutenant Commander Maya

Chief Science Officer

USS ANUBIS

- William Blake (British, 1757-1827)

=-=

"Ghost in the Machine"

Previous post: "An Echo of What Was" by the always-amazing Jessica

=-=

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Cargo Bay 7

Stardate: 44355.2000

Shar’El stepped into Cargo Bay 7, her gaze sweeping across the gathered personnel as she took in the scene. The air crackled with an almost imperceptible energy, something more than just the tension among the living. As a Ullian, she was attuned to the undercurrents of old thoughts and emotions, but this… this was different. It was not a memory, nor was it a distinct consciousness. It was something in between, something that defied clear definition. Yet, she could feel it, however faintly.

A distraction. That was her first thought. With the CMO and CSciO both present, Shar’El couldn’t ignore the fact that their efforts were desperately needed elsewhere: on finding a cure to the Romulan bio-weapon. Every moment spent here was time taken away from that dire mission. And yet… she understood. There was a chance, however small, that this phenomenon was connected, that it could provide some insight into the Yautja technology still deeply embedded within Simone’s cerebral tissue. If there was even a remote possibility that this would help, she had to consider it.

Her eyes moved from person to person, noting how each was dealing with the situation in their own way. Christie stood closest to the casket, her expression stricken with emotion. Simone had been a mother-figure to her inside the Training Matrix, and now, seeing this, whatever it was, only served to tear open fresh wounds. Cristhiane, standing beside her daughter, was a study in contrast. Her distrust of the universe as a whole and everything surrounding this event was still evident in the tightness of her jaw, the way her arms were folded as though bracing for another loss.

Maya, ever the scientist, was already deep in analysis, running scans and adjusting parameters, her focus entirely on the phenomenon before her. For her, this was a puzzle, an anomaly that defied current scientific understanding, and she would not stop until she found the missing pieces. T’Lara, on the other hand, seemed less interested in the mechanics of the event and more in its potential relevance to their primary objective. How was this going to help them find a cure? Shar’El could see the skepticism in the Romulan-Vulcan hybrid’s expression, the careful restraint of someone who struggled between logic and instinct.

And then there was Gemma.

While the others were focused on the wavering figure that resembled Simone, Gemma’s attention was elsewhere. Shar’El followed her gaze, quickly realizing that her focus was on the holographic display of the data nodes within Simone’s cerebral tissue. Gemma had barely acknowledged the bio-energy projection itself, her mind clearly working through an entirely different set of calculations. If Shar’El had to guess, she suspected the ILO was considering what the Yautja had intended with these nodes, and more importantly, whether their stored information held any tactical or medical relevance.

Shar’El exhaled slowly.

She was not a scientist, nor was she a medical expert. But she was a former intelligence officer now the Executive Officer of the ANUBIS. It was her job to find meaning in the inexplicable, to connect the seemingly unconnected. Right now, the only thing she knew for certain was that whatever this was, it was real. Not an illusion, not a malfunction of their equipment, not a hallucination born of exhaustion. Real. And that meant it had to be acknowledged.

Stepping forward, she addressed the room. “I understand that this is an unprecedented event,” she began, her voice steady. “And I understand that there are more pressing matters at hand. But we cannot dismiss the possibility that this phenomenon is connected to what was done to Simone inside the Matrix. If there is even the slightest chance that this holds the key to understanding the bio-weapon’s modified design, or how to counteract it, then we investigate.”

She met Maya’s gaze. “Keep analyzing the energy patterns. We need to know if this projection is stable or if it’s deteriorating.”

Her attention then shifted to Gemma. “You seem particularly interested in the nodes. What are you seeing?”

Gemma’s expression remained unreadable for a moment before she finally spoke. “The nodes aren’t just passive implants. They’re still active. That means there’s data inside them, possibly even functional Yautja subroutines. They appear to borrow a Borg design, but there is no way to confirm this without surgically extracting one of them.”

Shar’El nodded, filing that away for later. “Then let’s not waste any more time. Work fast, but don’t overlook anything. We don’t know how long this,” she gestured toward the projection, “will last.”

As the team resumed their work, Shar’El allowed herself a moment to glance back at the wavering image of Simone. She couldn’t read it. Couldn’t touch its thoughts. But she knew, deep in her gut, that it was trying to tell them something.

They just had to figure out what.

=-=

Tiffany Reeve

Commander Shar'El

Executive Officer

USS ANUBIS

-=-=-

"A Real Ghost"

Previous post: "Ghost in the Machine” by Tiffany

-=-=-

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Cargo Bay 7

Stardate: 44355.2020

The Sec/Tac stepped into Cargo Bay 7, her focus narrowing immediately to the casket that once held Simone’s body. The bay was once again eerily quiet, the only other presence being Maya, who stood several meters away, still examining the faint bio-energy manifestation that hovered in mid-air like the ghost many claimed it to be. The others that had come to check out this ghost had already returned to their duties, leaving the Sec/Tac and her troubled thoughts alone with the Shillian scientist.

There was one thing that bothered Ya'Han, a single detail said by the First Officer, but it had been more than enough to get the Nylaan woman down here. The seal to Simone's casket should not have been broken by a gathering of bio-energy, no matter what or who it looked like.

Frowning, Ya’Han retrieved the motion detector from the torpedo casing upon which it had been placed during her earlier visit. The small device, one of Gemma’s more unconventional toys, had been hoped to reveal the presence of a *real* ghost, so now it was useless. With the motion detector in hand, she approached the unsealed casket. The jagged edges of the seal made it clear that it hadn’t simply failed; it had been forced. Whatever that projection had been, it shouldn’t have been able to cause this. Her fingers traced the damage carefully, her mind racing through possibilities.

The motion detector suddenly let out a soft chirp. Ya’Han’s eyes flicked to the screen, expecting to see it registering Maya or maybe even herself. But the device fell silent before lighting up again moment later. A malfunction? Unlikely, given the source. Gemma’s equipment was unconventional but rarely flawed.

Maya’s voice cut through the silence, matter-of-fact despite the mystery. “The bio-energy pattern is dispersing. It will lose cohesion in a few minutes, maybe less.” The Shillian’s tone carried a hint of disappointment, her fascination with the phenomenon clear even now.

The Sec/Tac barely had time to absorb that information when the detector shrieked a warning. This time, as Ya’Han’s gaze snapped back to the casket, she saw it. A shimmering form, almost invisible, standing between her and the hollowed torpedo tube. The shimmer solidified into a hulking figure with dreadlocks and armored plating... a Yautja hunter.

There was no time to react. A bone-crushing force struck her, sending Ya’Han flying across the cargo bay. She slammed into the wall, pain flaring through her back and shoulders as the breath was forced from her lungs. The motion detector clattered to the floor, its lights blinking erratically.

Through a haze of pain, she saw the Yautja move with brutal efficiency. Its long, jagged-edged blade flashed, and Simone’s head was severed in a single, precise motion. The hunter placed the head into a medical stasis box before turning to leave, its movements swift and unhesitating.

Ya’Han forced herself up, every muscle protesting. Her red hair flared with the intensity of her resolve as she slapped her communicator. “Intruder alert! We have a Yautja hunter on board... Deck 9, Cargo Bay 7! Security teams and MACOs, converge immediately!”

Her fingers danced over the console beside her, initiating a security lockdown of the deck. Pain rippled through her side, but she pushed it aside. They couldn’t afford to let the Yautja escape. Whatever it wanted with Simone’s head had to be connected to the implants, and maybe even to the modified Romulan bio-weapon.

Ignoring the burning in her muscles, Ya’Han sprinted after the Yautja, shooting a fglance at Satella's casket. The pain of her loss stung deeper than any physical discomfort could, fueling every heartbeat of her resolve. No one else would die, not today, not as long as she could do something about it.

Ya'Han’s breathing was steady but shallow, each inhale bringing a sharp reminder of her likely broken ribs. Pain flared with every movement, but she pushed it aside, channeling years of training under Ze’Kon’s merciless standards. Perfection was the only acceptable outcome... pain was irrelevant.

Across the cargo bay, Maya’s eyes were wide, not with fear but with fascination, her gaze fixed on the faint shimmer where the Yautja had disappeared. Of course, the scientist in her would focus on the unknown race's cloaking capabilities rather than the immediate threat. Ya'Han couldn’t blame her. If the situation were different, she might have even found the reaction amusing.

Once out in the corridor, Ya'Han saw the shimmering form of the hunter easily force its way through the forcefield that had been erected to contain it. The Sec/Tac sighed with disgust. This was not going to be easy. “Computer, augment containment force fields for all sections surrounding Cargo Bay 7 to maximum, and add secondary phased fields,” Ya'Han commanded through gritted teeth. Hopefully, these would at least slow it down if it could not stop it. A confirmation chirped back, and the dull hum of energy barriers reverberated through the bulkheads. It was the best they could do to limit the Yautja’s movements and protect the rest of the crew, for now.

Her eyes flicked to her phaser, thumb adjusting the settings with practiced efficiency. Highest output, maximum spread, she knew it wouldn’t be enough. The MACOs’ combat reports flashed through her mind: their pulse rifles had limited effects even at full power. Her jaw clenched. The standard sidearm might as well be a child’s toy against something that could rip through the forcefields and likely bulkheads with its bare hands.

=/\= Ya’Han, DO NOT engage that thing alone! =/\=

Jayson’s voice crackled, raw with urgency. The flicker of hesitation that followed stung more than the pain in her side. He echoed the same fear twisting inside her... the one she couldn't afford to acknowledge. Losing him again was not an option. The very thought left her stomach in knots, but she forced the hesitation down, locking it behind the icy resolve that had kept her alive this long.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. No promises. No reassurances. Just a statement of fact. She couldn’t promise anything, not when Satella’s face was still so fresh in her mind, her death less than 36 hours ago. The guilt bit deep, sharp and unrelenting. Ya'Han had been on the bridge with Jayson and Shar'El, protecting the Captain from the Tzenkethi boarding team while Satella had died in Sickbay. There had been no way to save her, no way she could have known. But the guilt didn’t care about logic or reason.

Movement, just a whisper of displacement in the air. Ya'Han pivoted, red hair fully blazing now, no trace of black remaining. Instinct took over, her body moving faster than thought, phaser discharging in a wide arc. The beam crackled off the far wall, cutting through the haze of cloaking energy. For a breath, the Yautja’s outline flickered, a hulking mass of muscle and lethal precision.

Maya, who had come out of the cargo bay to join Ya'Han, took a step forward, eyes narrowed with academic curiosity. “Fascinating…,” she muttered, barely a whisper.

The Sec/Tac snarled, ignoring the flare of pain in her side. “Stay back!” she snapped, tone sharper than intended, but there was no time to soften it. Not with the intruder recovering, cloak shimmering back into place.

Gritting her teeth, Ya'Han surged forward, ignoring the agony in her ribs. If her phaser couldn't stop it, she’d have to do it the old-fashioned way, up close and personal. For the crew. For Satella. For Jayson.

There was no room for hesitation. Not anymore.

Gritting her teeth, Ya'Han surged forward, ignoring the agony in her ribs. If her phaser couldn't stop it, she’d have to do it the old-fashioned way, up close and personal. For the crew. For Satella. For Jayson.

There was no room for hesitation. Not anymore.

The Yautja moved faster than she anticipated. One moment it was a blur of cloaking energy, the next it was solid and brutal, a backhand strike catching Ya’Han across the chest with enough force to crack armor and bone alike. Pain exploded through her body, white-hot and all-consuming, as she was flung backward into a structural support beam. The impact drove the air from her lungs in a strangled gasp, her vision darkening at the edges.

Her phaser slipped from numb fingers, clattering uselessly to the deck. Ya’Han tried to push herself up, but her limbs trembled, refusing to obey. Every breath was a struggle, each movement igniting fresh waves of agony from her ribs, likely shattered now. Blood trickled from a cut above her brow, warm and sticky, half-blinding one eye.

She could barely lift her head, but forced herself to anyway, instincts overriding pain. Through the blur, she saw the Yautja’s dark, towering form approach with deliberate, predatory calm. Its mask tilted down, examining her, as if assessing if the fight was worth continuing. For a moment, it paused, almost curious.

A low growl resonated from the hunter, the sound vibrating through the deck plates. Then, with merciless precision, it drew its blade, the same jagged-edged weapon that had taken Simone’s head. Light glinted off the serrated edge, each notch designed to inflict maximum pain.

Ya’Han’s vision swam, but she refused to look away, even as her strength ebbed and her red hair dimmed to a dull crimson. Fingers scrabbled weakly for anything, a weapon, a console edge, something to pull herself up with, but there was nothing but cold metal and her own blood beneath her.

The Yautja raised the blade, arm tensing with lethal intent. For an endless heartbeat, time seemed to stretch, her own ragged breathing the only sound in the universe.

Not like this. Not here. The thought screamed in her mind, raw and desperate. Her muscles coiled instinctively, but she couldn’t move fast enough, couldn’t even draw a full breath.

Pain flared anew as her arms gave out, dropping her back to the deck, barely conscious. The dark edges of her vision crept closer, smothering. Through the haze, she could only watch as the blade came down, the Yautja’s eyes, cold and unfeeling, reflected in its cruel edge.

-=-=-

Hanali Han

Lieutenant Ya'Han

Chief of Security / Tactical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

"The White Ghost"

Previous post: "A Real Ghosts" by Hanali

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck 9, Corridor

Stardate: 44355.2025

Pain radiated through Ya’Han’s body as she lay motionless on the deck, her limbs refusing to respond. The Yautja loomed above her, its blade raised high, the jagged edge gleaming under the dim corridor lights. She could see her own reflection in the metal, a warrior battered and broken, unable to stop what was coming.

Then, in an instant, a blur of motion crashed into the hunter’s side.

Jayson.

With reckless abandon, he threw himself at the Yautja, tackling it with all the force his body could muster. The impact barely staggered the towering predator, but it was enough to divert the killing blow. The blade swiped downward at an awkward angle, gouging a deep scar into the deck instead of splitting Ya’Han in two.

The Yautja recovered almost instantly. With inhuman strength, it grabbed Jayson by the throat and flung him like a ragdoll. He struck the bulkhead hard, the sound of bone and metal colliding reverberating through the corridor. He crumpled to the floor, pain flaring across every nerve in his body. But through the haze of agony, he turned his head, seeing Ya’Han struggling to lift herself.

"Jayson!" She pleaded, barely conscious, her breaths shallow, her crimson hair dimming with every heartbeat.

The OPS Officer didn’t think, he acted. With a groan, he dragged himself across the floor, positioning his aching body over hers, shielding her from the hunter’s looming form. His chest heaved, lungs burning, but none of that mattered. He reached for her hand, fingers brushing weakly against hers.

Ya’Han’s violet eyes fluttered open, her gaze locking onto his. A flicker of horror, of helplessness, crossed her face as she saw the blade rising once more.

“Jayson...” she croaked, her eyes filled with tears, but he cut her off with a soft smile, his own eyes filled with something she rarely saw from him, absolute certainty.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he murmured, his voice pained but beyond resolute. “Because we’re together… and nothing else matters.”

The Yautja let out a low growl, muscles tensing to strike.

Then, a white blur exploded into the corridor.

The snarl that followed was guttural, primal, filled with a fury that shook the walls. Clawed hands crashed into the Yautja, sending the hunter skidding backward. The corridor lights caught the ivory sheen of fur, the fierce contour of muscles coiled with raw power.

A “white ghost.” A’Janni.

The Caitian FCO moved with unmatched speed, twin katanas flashing as he pressed his attack. He struck with the precision of a seasoned warrior, his blades seeking weak points in the hunter’s armor. Sparks flew as metal clashed, and for the first time, the Yautja was forced to defend itself.

Jayson barely registered the fight, his body growing heavier by the second. His head sagged, his breathing ragged, but he kept his hand over Ya’Han’s, squeezing gently.

She wasn’t alone. They weren’t alone.

And for now… that was enough.

=-=

Jayson Sousa

Lieutenant JG A'Janni

Flight Control Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

Lieutenant Jayson Stark

Chief of Operations

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

"Ghost Busting"

Previous post: "The White Ghost"

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck 9, Corridor

Stardate: 44355.2025

A'Janni fought like a creature possessed. His katanas flashed in the dim corridor, each strike aimed to cripple or kill the Yautja, but the towering hunter countered with terrifying ferocity. Metal screeched as it blocked, parried, and retaliated with devastating force. Every impact vibrated down A'Janni's arms, pushing him closer toward exhaustion.

Behind him, Jayson’s body lay draped protectively over Ya'Han's. Both clung to the last threads of consciousness, their combined willpower the only thing keeping them tethered to reality as the predator prepared to finish them off.

Then she came.

Even weakened, Gemma surged forward like a specter of death. The fiery cascade of Anya Petrov’s red hair whipped behind her as she charged, driven by a primal ferocity that bled from multiple personas... Jinx's savage edge, Shinral's cold efficiency, and others converging into a singular, deadly intent. She didn't bother with her phaser, knowing it would be useless. Instead, she drew a dagger hidden within her uniform and launched herself at the imposing adversary.

The impact was brutal. Gemma's dagger crashed against the hunter’s armored back, staggering it just enough to give A'Janni space to breathe. Without hesitation, she struck again, her blade finding a softer target in the creature’s side.

"Gemma, get clear!" A'Janni roared, straining against the Yautja's wrist blades.

'Not a damn chance!" she spat, slashing again with wild desperation. Blood, hers or the creature's, splattered across the deck. A thunderous backhand from the Yautja caught her across the face, hurling her into the bulkhead. Stars exploded in her vision, but she forced herself back to her feet, refusing to fall.

The fight became a desperate blur. A'Janni and Gemma fought with ruthless synergy, one a storm of feline grace and the other a whirlwind of savage precision. But the Yautja adapted faster, its blows heavier, deadlier. Its wrist blade slashed deep into A'Janni's side, drawing a ragged, agonized roar from the Caitian.

Gemma seized the moment, plunging her dagger into the creature's abdomen. It snarled, pivoting with unnatural speed and hammering her into the deck again. Pain flared through her body, but she barely registered it. She clawed forward, gripping the creature’s ankle, desperately trying to buy A'Janni another second of survival.

It wasn't enough. The Yautja broke free, looming over them, the killing blow imminent.

Then salvation roared into the corridor.

"GET CLEAR!"

Zub's voice cracked like thunder as he and his MACO team flooded in. Their shoulder-mounted phased energy weapons, twice the size of standard Starfleet issue, hummed to life, their barrels crackling with violent blue energy. The first salvo ripped through the air, a torrent of destructive force slamming into the Yautja.

The creature convulsed, its armor shrieking under the relentless onslaught. The air reeked of scorched flesh and burned metal as the beams tore into the Yautja's molecular structure, slowly unraveling it from the inside out.

"By the darkest regions of the Abyss," Zub muttered, momentarily stunned. "I didn’t actually think these things would work…"

But the Yautja wasn't finished. In one final, desperate act, it lunged, not at them, but at the containment case resting beside Ya'Han and Jayson. Gemma's blurry vision locked onto it, Simone:s severed head sealed inside. The creature meant to destroy it.

"No!" she rasped, her body responding faster than her mind. She threw herself forward, snatching the case and curling around it protectively as the Yautja's massive hand descended.

The MACOs' weapons intensified. The hunter's arm vaporized mid-strike, its entire body finally disintegrating in a cascade of blue energy, leaving nothing but a scorched outline on the deck.

Silence crashed down like a hammer.

Zub lowered his weapon, heart still hammering. His eyes flicked to Gemma, now curled around the containment case, her knuckles white with strain.

"Secure the wounded!" The Voth MCO snapped, his men instantly moving to assist Jayson, Ya'Han, and A'Janni. Kneeling beside Gemma, he softened his voice. "Are you alright?" There was actual concern in his words and tone.

"Took you long enough to get here," Gemma said. Her breathing was ragged and labored, but still, her focus quickly shifted on the case. "…It was after this," she murmured, clutching it tighter. "Simone's head… there's something in it. Something important."

Zub's jaw tightened as he looked at the case, then the scorched remnants of the Yautja. "Then we need to find out what," he growled.

=-=

Rachel Jackie Johnson

Lieutenant Gemma

Intel Operative

USS ANUBIS

[The fun is getting to wear multiple disguises and getting to explore multiple personalities and bring them to life. - Jenna Fischer]

"Frustration, Fractures, and Futility"

Previous post: "Ghost Busting"

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.2035

The moment the doors slid open and the injured were brought in, T’Lara felt the weight of an exasperated sigh threaten to escape her lips. She quelled it instantly, but the lapse itself was unacceptable. She was a Vulcan, well at least half. She was in control. And yet, for the briefest fraction of a second, she had allowed frustration, Romulan frustration, to surface, and that to her was a failure on her part.

She took a long, deep breath before moving toward the biobeds, prioritizing the worst injuries first. Ya’Han and Jayson, barely clinging to consciousness, were her immediate focus. Their vitals were weak but stabilizing, the worst of their injuries internal. Judging by the lacerations on his back, Jayson had shielded Ya’Han with his own body, a noble, albeit medically inadvisable, act. With quick, efficient precision, she administered regenerative therapy, stabilizers, and micro-suture applications to prevent further hemorrhaging.

"Focus on oxygenation support," she instructed her staff curtly. "Neural stimulation for both of them, and increase their fluids. They need to recover, not slip into a coma."

A'Janni was next. The Caitian’s vitals were strong, but the deep gash along his side indicated severe tissue trauma. A lesser individual would be unconscious from the blood loss alone. But A’Janni was not a lesser individual. Even through his pain, his single golden eye was sharp, following her movements.

"You are fortunate," T’Lara remarked as she applied a dermal regenerator to the worst of his wounds. "Had the creature struck two centimeters to the left, you would be requiring full organ replacement. And given our current situation, that would have been… inconvenient."

A’Janni exhaled through his nose, something between a scoff and a pained chuckle. "Glad to be ‘convenient,’ Doctor."

And then there was Gemma.

T’Lara spared the Intelligence Liaison Officer a glance and suppressed the urge to sigh again. The woman was standing thanks to the assistance of the reptilian Marine CO. The ILO was beyond bruised and bloodied, a testament to the battle she had just been in. The medical tricorder readings confirmed that her nanites were working, shielding the woman's actual condition.  The CMO was therefore forced to use more hands-on methods to assess the woman's status. A light touch of the ribcage and a visual scan showed her nanites actively repairing fractures, sealing torn skin, erasing signs of what should have been a far more critical condition.

"Fascinating," T’Lara said, her voice devoid of actual interest. "By all medical logic, you should be incapacitated. Yet, here you are again, defying it with reckless abandon." She let the statement linger for a second longer than necessary before turning away. "You are in no need of a bed. See that it remains available for someone who is not actively attempting to get themselves killed."

Gemma smirked as she rolled her shoulder, testing the restored mobility. "You wound me, Doctor."

"Not nearly as often as you seem to wound yourself," T’Lara countered, before dismissing her entirely and turning her attention back to the critical patients.

As the chaos in Sickbay settled into an organized rhythm, the weight of the situation loomed over her like a phantom. The bio-weapon remained an unsolved mystery, a silent, looming threat against their crew. Every minute spent tending to new injuries was a minute not spent unraveling its secrets.

T’Lara exhaled slowly through her nose. Maya must find something soon.

Gemma lingered by the exit, glancing at her. "Maya’s waiting on me in the Forensics Lab. We’ll see what we can find out from the head."

T’Lara merely nodded. "Good luck."

It was a logical sentiment. But in that moment, it felt insufficient.

As the doors hissed shut behind Gemma and Zub, T’Lara forced herself to focus. There was still too much at stake, and she could not afford distractions.

For now, Sickbay was stable. That was the only victory she would allow herself.

=-=

Dawn Bohr

Lt. Commander T'Lara

Chief Medical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

---

"A Head Full of Data"

(Previous Post: "Frustration, Fractures, and Futility")

---

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck 12, Forensics Lab

Stardate: 44355.2045

The Forensics Lab on Deck 12 was not a standard hub of activity, the illumination deliberately subdued to reduce ambient electromagnetic interference with the delicate scans being performed. Suspended in a zero-gravity stasis field at the center of the chamber, Simone’s severed head rested within a containment sphere, its features eerily preserved in a state of unnatural stillness.

Several slowly moving holographic images of the head's interior structure hovered around the sphere, adding a truly nightmarish feel to the scene.

Maya stood before the display, her fingers dancing over the holographic interface as she fine-tuned the resolution of the latest scan. The bio-mechanical nodes embedded within the cerebral tissue were deteriorating, an expected outcome given their reliance on the host’s bio-electric field for power. Their degradation had nearly reached critical levels before the Yautja hunter had removed the head, a fact that suggested deliberate timing. Whatever the nodes contained, the hunter had sought to preserve it at the last possible moment.

She adjusted the phase variance of the scanning array, attempting to extract coherent data from the decaying components. The nodes were self-contained, utilizing a form of quantum entanglement for multi-phasic communication, a sophisticated system that explained the necessity for a newer, more secure model in the stasis pods. This older iteration, however, was still bound by its original design limitations, and fading connection. That connection, she hypothesized, might still be susceptible to external influence.

“Struggling?” Gemma’s voice was flat, but there was something in her expression, an awareness that unsettled Maya in a way she couldn’t yet define. The intelligence officer stood nearby, her stance more rigid than usual, her nanites still in the process of repairing the extensive damage she had sustained. Zub, ever watchful, was at her side, his presence a silent statement of both support and vigilance.

Maya exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “The interface language is beyond our current decryption capabilities. I can recognize structural patterns, but interpretation will take years without a reference point.” She turned the display so that the others could see. “This is an outdated model, an earlier form of the more direct and physical link the Yautja used in their stasis pods. That alone suggests Simone may have been amongst the first.”

“Or the longest-held,” Zub muttered, watching the screen with narrowed eyes.

Maya nodded. “It would explain why the upgrades were necessary. This version of the nodes relied on external connectivity, a vulnerability. A newer iteration would have mitigated that risk, likely reducing the chances of signal interception or interference.” Her voice trailed off as she tapped a new command into the console, a thought forming at the edges of her mind. “If I can isolate the quantum entanglement signature, there might be a way to establish an external link. Even if that is possible though, we are still a long way from being able to decipher their language.”

Gemma didn’t react immediately, but Zub did. His shoulders tensed ever so slightly, his gaze flicking toward Gemma before returning to Maya.

“You might want to be careful with that,” he said.

Maya frowned at him. “Why?”

Before he could answer, a fluctuation appeared on the containment field’s readings, something subtle, almost imperceptible, but distinct enough to register. The connection, though weakened, was still present. And if it was still present, then it could still be reached.

Maya’s pulse quickened.

Unbeknownst to her, Gemma had already begun the preliminary interface process.

---

Jessica Solarik (maya992003@gmail.com)

Lieutenant Commander Maya

Chief Science Officer

USS ANUBIS

- William Blake (British, 1757-1827)

"Family is More Than Blood"

Previous post: "A Head Full of Data” by Jessica

Setting:  USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.2045

Adriana trembled as she sat on the edge of a biobed, her body still recovering from the effects of the bio-weapon. The infection had nearly taken hold before the Yautja dampening field stopped its progression. Now, with the immediate threat contained, she had been allowed to resume her duties as Ship’s Counselor, but only as long as she remained in Sickbay under T’Lara’s direct orders. The Hispanic Counselor suspected that this was due more to a shortage of beds than to genuine medical necessity, especially after the arrival of Ya'Han and Jayson.

Still, she hated feeling useless, especially now. Too many people were suffering, too much fear hung in the air. The rescued Terrans needed help, and she was confined here, her own body betraying her. But at least she was still herself.

Nathan wasn’t.

Amanda stood nearby, torn between fear for her twin and the heartbreaking sight of Nathan inside the cryogenic containment field. The bio-weapon had ravaged his neural pathways beyond repair, leaving him a breath away from being lost forever. The dampening field had stopped the infection, but the damage was already done. Even if he survived physically, there was no guarantee he would ever wake up as the Nathan she knew.

Amanda's hands curled into fists at her sides. It wasn’t fair. She had spent so many years in the Matrix, hoping, fighting, waiting for a life beyond that simulated nightmare. Now that she was free, reality seemed just as cruel. She had found her sister, only to nearly lose her again. And Nathan… sweet, kind Nathan… he might already be gone.

Adriana exhaled slowly, forcing herself to push past her own pain. “We don’t give up on family,” she said, her voice steady despite the weight in her chest. "No matter what others may say, he's part of our family," she softly added.

Amanda nodded, her jaw tight. "Thank you."

The road ahead was uncertain, but for now, they had each other. And sometimes, that was enough to keep moving forward. That thought made Adriana turn her attention to Jayson and Ya'Han. Like the twins, they had each other to help them through difficult times, and the universe had been far too generous in its distribution of hardships to them.

Jayson lay motionless, his breathing steady but weak, his body covered in healing dermal patches. Beside him, Ya'Han remained unconscious. The vibrant red of her hair, so closely tied to her fiery spirit, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, only the solid black of a past she had fought so hard to leave behind framed her still face.

Doctor T'Lara glanced up from her console, her Romulan-Vulcan features impassive yet sharp with focus. "They will be fine. You should be resting."

Adriana gave a tired smile. "Rest is a luxury I can't afford right now. I needed to check on them."

T'Lara arched a brow. "They are stable, but their recoveries will not be swift. The injuries were severe. If A'Janni, Gemma, and the MACOs had arrived even a minute later…" She let the words trail off, not needing to finish the thought.

Adriana swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked at them. The fight had taken a toll on everyone. A'Janni had barely walked out of it alive. Jayson… he had shielded Ya'Han with everything he had left.

A few beds away, Amanda knelt beside Nathan's containment field, placing a gentle hand against the glass-like barrier. "He's still in there," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I know he is. We just have to find a way to bring him back."

T'Lara glanced at the containment unit and shook her head. "Stopping the progression of the bio-weapon saved lives, but Nathan’s neural pathways were already too far gone. Even if he wakes up, he might never…" She hesitated. "Might never be himself again."

Adriana closed her eyes for a moment, having moved closer to support her sister and overhearing everything. She drew in a long, steadying breath before wrapping her arms around Amanda. "Then we find another way. We owe him that much."

Amanda’s jaw tightened with determination. "We don’t give up on family."

The words hung in the air between them, carrying weight beyond Nathan. The road ahead was uncertain, but for now, they had each other. And sometimes, that was enough to keep moving forward.

-=-=-

Marissa Montonera-Lombardi

Lieutenant JG Adriana Lopez

Ship's Counselor & Junior Ambassador

USS ANUBIS

"When Darkness Found Her"

Previous post: "Family is More Than Blood"

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Forensics Lab

Stardate: 44355.2050

The link with the data nodes had been established. Somehow, the information the ILO had absorbed during her accidental contact with the stasis pods and the now-destroyed Yautja Matrix had granted her the ability to access the quantum communication link that once connected the pods. Despite the Lokustaar's destruction of the Matrix, fragments of its architecture lingered like ghosts in the data streams. Thanks to this, information flooded into Gemma’s mind, fast and unrelenting, but before she could go deeper, something… shifted. A fragment of a thought, a sensation that didn’t belong, and without hesitation, she severed the connection.

"You are not ready," GAMMA's ghostly voice echoed in her mind, a splinter she could neither remove nor ignore.

“Move!” Gemma’s voice cut through the Forensic Lab as she shoved Zub out of her path. She didn’t look back. If she did, she might hesitate, and she couldn’t afford that. On his side, the Voth, taken completely off-guard, found himself sitting on the floor by the time he understood what had just taken place.

Zub scrambled back to his feet as quickly as he could. “Gemma!” he called after her, watching as she disappeared down the corridor. He took one step to follow, only to find something on the floor... her commbadge. Staring at it, his stomach twisted.

At first, it didn’t seem like much. Maybe she’d just dropped it. But the knot in his gut told him otherwise. Without her commbadge, she was a ghost. No way to track her. No way to call her back. The cold realization hit him hard: she didn’t want to be found

-=-=-

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Corridor

Stardate: 44355.2053

Gemma moved through the corridors with mechanical precision, slipping into the shadows when necessary. The nanites dampened her presence, making her untraceable. She reached Sickbay and paused outside the door, her heart inexplicably heavy. It was reckless to be here. Illogical. Yet she stepped inside.

-=-=-

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.2053

Amanda and Adriana were at Nathan’s containment field, their quiet conversation slicing into Gemma like a serrated blade.

“He’s part of our family,” Amanda said softly, her voice cracking.

“And we don’t give up on family,” Adriana answered, gripping her twin’s hand tightly. “No matter what.”

Family. The word burned through Gemma’s mind like a virus. She had never truly understood it. In her world, family was a liability, a weakness. Yet here, it was a strength, something worth risking everything for.

"The concept of a family is a liability," Anya hissed. "Would you consider Ava Noiva as a sister? Technically, she shared the same heritage, the same general past."

"I agree," Abrasivnyy snarled. "A family is a weight that holds you back, always causing you to do things that you would not have otherwise done. Like us being here."

Her throat tightened. The ANUBIS was as close to a family as she’d ever had, but even then, she remained on the periphery. An operative. A tool. Not a sister, not a friend. Certainly not someone others would risk themselves for, or would they. Yet these women... these humans... were willing to put everything on the line for Nathan, despite the odds.

"A family is a source of strength and support," Gwenvel softly, tenderly offered.

"They are what makes living worthwhile," Saha Rahi added, the tone of her words as beautiful and colorful as her art.

"A family makes the impossible come into focus, and gives you the strength to do what you would never have otherwise even considered," Sheetora, the representation of the former Queen of KZINTI ALPHA said, the weight of her own sacrifice weighing heavily in her words.

Could Gemma do the same? Could she risk her own life for someone else for no other reason than to save them?

"You already have... many times," Melika said, the light of the Ekosian's smile impossible to ignore. Although no actual examples were given, the simple fact that the historian had said this was enough to make her point. She kept track of things that most would never care to even notice.

Arika giggled. "Family is a gamble, like anything else. The more you risk, the more you align yourself to gain. The question is, do you dare to take that gamble? Do you dare to accept the possibility, however small it may be, that you are actually considered to be a member of their family in some small, minuscule way?"

Gemma swallowed hard and turned away. Her next move was clear, but it was also one she knew could cost her everything.

-=-=-

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Forensics Lab

Stardate: 44355.2056

Back in the now vacant Forensic Lab, she moved with urgency, reinstating the link she had severed earlier. This time, she went deeper, targeting a different data stream, the neurological maps of the Terrans who had managed to manifest themselves inside the now-defunct Matrix, which included Nathan. The ILO could not understand why that particular data was still there; all she cared about now was that it could save him... if her plan worked.

The information was vast but she zeroed in, following the encrypted pathways until she hit something significant, a complete neurological map of Nathan's brain. Precise. Uncorrupted. Untouched by the bio-weapon. If she could extract this and overlay it onto his current neural pathways, there was a chance she could restore him.

Her hands trembled slightly. This was reckless. Dangerous. Perhaps even suicidal. But for the first time in her existence, she truly wasn’t acting as an operative.

Gemma extended her hand and touched the containment sphere in which Simone's head was being kept. The proximity of the nodes and nanites amplified the quantum connection. Agony instantly ripped through her spine like molten glass. Her nanites screamed in protest, their microscopic voices blending into the tortured cries. Still, she didn’t let go. She could feel each and every part of her body burning from the inside, and yet she refused to move. She needed to see this through.

"... we don’t give up on family... No matter what," Adriana's words were the last thing she heard before everything went dark and she collapsed to the floor.

-=-=-

Setting: Unknown (Residual Consciousness of the Matrix)

Stardate: Unknown

The Matrix stirred.

It should have been dead. It had been dead. The Lokustaar had seen to that. And yet… something persisted. Faint. Almost intangible. A ghost of a system that should no longer exist. But something had now touched it. A will. A mind. A defiance. The anomaly’s name was Gemma. And now… it had found her.

Screams of agony echoed into eternity... those who had not been as fortunate as the one rescued by the ANUBIS. The Yautja's cruelty was unmatched, and Gemma quickly felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of voices begging for release.

Through them though, one voice stood apart from the others, a familiar voice that she eventually recognized.  GAMMA. "You have always been ready. You just never knew it," she said before an unimaginable pain shot through her mind, causing her scream to join that of the others.

-=-=-

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Corridor

Stardate: 44355.2100

Zub ran. The Voth's massive legs carried him through the halls toward Forensics. Panic churned in his gut. He knew. Somehow, he knew what Gemma had done. And now she was in danger.

He skidded to a stop at the Forensics Lab and found her collapsed on the floor, her body still twitching as the nanites fought to repair the damage. But something was wrong. Her face was contorted… as if something else was in there with her.

“Gemma!” Zub dropped to his knees, scooping her up in his massive arms. Her skin was deathly cold.

“…so many voices… so much pain…” she gasped, her voice not entirely her own. “...but there is another... something else... something darker...”

In her fading consciousness, a voice from the residual network of the Matrix spoke.

"There you are..."

Gemma's body turned cold. Her nanites, once a constant hum of activity, were silent. No pulse. No motion. Nothing. It was as if her entire essence had been ripped out.

Zub’s blood ran cold. He activated his commbadge. “Zub to Sickbay! Medical emergency... I’ve got Gemma... she’s crashing!” He then picked her limp form into his muscular, protective arms, "Stay with me, Gemma. Dammit, stay with me."

=-=

Rachel Jackie Johnson

Lieutenant Gemma

Intel Operative

USS ANUBIS

[The fun is getting to wear multiple disguises and getting to explore multiple personalities and bring them to life. - Jenna Fischer]

=-=

“Dark Energy”

Previous post: “When Darkness Found Her” by the inimitable Rachel

=-=

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Corridor outside Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.2104

Zub felt his down prickling under his scales. He’d seen and even carried dead people before. Gemma looked every bit like she was dead. Pale, cold, head lolling against the crook of his scaly elbow, her face more relaxed than he had ever seen it.

He felt his heart crushing. His feeling toward her were as kaleidoscopic as her personalities: concern for her health, protectiveness even though she so rarely needed it, attraction tempered with true fear what indulging that might release, fear of what she was, curiosity as to who she was under all the nanites, the threat of emptiness if she was truly passed. His welter of feelings grew so heavy that they tumbled over each other and like a boulder rolled over his heart. He heard himself rumbled to her, “Come on, Gemma. Fight whatever this is. Anya! Help her!”

As he carried her, he noticed all the places she pressed against him, his arms, his chest, all tingled, like little electric shocks were cascading from him to her skin, like he was charging her up somehow. He felt nothing inside her, as he had been able to do from time to time. Nothing but a kind of darkness, like a lamp without a light.

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay, (again)

Stardate: 44355.2105

As the doors to Sickbay parted for Zub and the cold and completely limp Gemma in his arms, the slender Vulcan/Romulan Chief Medical Officer T’Lara was waiting for him, hands in the small of her back. Her face was a study of calm. She directed him silently to a bed that had extruded from a wall.

As Zub gently laid out the supine ILO on the bed he looked at it closely. He startled with alarm. His golden eyes shot wide open. His heart felt like it had been impaled. “This is a morgue bed! Do you think she’s… she’s…?” His mouth wouldn’t say the word.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “We are out of biobeds. This one will do.” Her green eyes looked directly into his. “Are you calm enough to tell me what is going on with her?”

Only then did Enel realize his downy feathers were fully protruding and he was panting. He guessed he must look to her like a plucked escapee from a Terran poultry farm. He took a deep breath and held it to calm himself. His heart thudded loudly in his ears.

Her arched eyebrow rose a notch higher as she waited. She prompted, “You said she “crashed.” What did you mean?”

Zub spoke in a rush. “She was in the Forensics Lab. I wasn’t there when she did it, but I felt an electrical jolt. I think she had connected herself to the Yautja/Lokustaar nodes in Simone’s severed head. Her nanites. I don’t think they could take the strain or load or whatever that connection entailed. I found her collapsed.” He waved a three-fingered hand down at her. “Like this. Cold. I think her nanites might have shut down.”

Both the doctor’s eyebrows rose. “If her nanites are inactive that means I can scan her. Ordinarily, I would have my scanner with me, but since she is opaque to them, I left it behind. I will be right back.”

Zub’s voice was louder than he had intended. “Please hurry!”

“Of course,” she said calmly. The CMO’s ponytail braid swished back and forth as she headed toward her equipment.

Enel turned his attention back down to Gemma. An intelligence asset enhanced and modified by Admiral Koniki in some warren of a lab in the asteroid world of NEW ALEXANDRIA. Now, perhaps dead. “Please, Gemma, do not be dead. There is so much about you I do not know yet. So much I want to know. Are you happy, deep down inside? Is this work the work you wanted to so? Are you a slave?”

T’Lara’s voice was gentle for as cool and efficient she usually seemed. “Hold those thoughts while I scan her.”

She had arrived with what Zub had heard called a crash cart, full of equipment to restore life. Her medical scanner warbled as she covered Gemma from head to toe. The CMO’s high cheekbones and small chin were lit from below by the scanner readout. Her gaze was intent, focussed on the screen. She said without looking at him, “In fairness I must tell you this is looking very serious. Major organ failure throughout.”

Zub felt like his insides were delicate crystal that might shatter if he moved, but he instinctively put out a hand to clasp Gemma’s. It was so cold. There was absolutely no response to his touch. Once again he felt the interplay of electrical shocks.

T’Lara said, “Fascinating.” She had the scanner pointed at him.

It was his turn to rise an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Your nanities — well, technically *hers* — are migrating toward your hand holding hers. I wonder…” She looked at him and then her appraisingly. She looked up at him again. “Do not stop holding her hand.”

Zub looked down at Gemma. Lifeless. Cold. But, somehow, deep down below wild hope and wishful thinking, in the lowest pit of his very being he just knew there was something going on inside her in the darkness of her soul. He felt it.

=-=

David Michael Inverso

Lieutenant JG Zub Enel

MCO

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

“In order to be irreplaceable one must always be different.”

– Coco Chanel

"Logic vs Survival"

Previous post: "Dark Energy"

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.2110

T’Lara stood motionless, eyes fixed on the scanner’s fluctuating readout.

Major organ failure. The cold, clinical assessment barely scratched the surface of the anomaly before her. Gemma was not merely a patient, she was an enigma, an operative whose classified personnel file described a relentless, calculating agent. That description did not align with the pale, unmoving form before her.

If T’Lara had not seen the neural activity, or rather, the absence of it, she might have suspected some elaborate deception. But the readings did not lie.

Gemma, in every measurable medical sense, was dead. Or near enough to it.

And yet, there was something. The nanites. They were shifting, migrating toward Zub’s touch. He was too preoccupied to notice how his presence affected her biochemistry, but T’Lara had observed the minute fluctuations, the near-imperceptible response beneath the layers of what should have been biological silence.

Fascinating... and deeply troubling.

Koniki’s agents were engineered for survival, she knew this for a fact. Adaptability was the foundation of their existence. If the nanites had failed, if they had abandoned their host, did that mean she was truly beyond saving? Or had something else, something unexpected, triggered this collapse?

T’Lara tightened her grip on the scanner, pushing aside personal considerations. Reflection could come later. Her priority now was understanding the physiological mechanisms at play.

Why was there still residual electrical activity in Gemma’s nervous system? Why were her nanites responding to external contact when they should have been inert? Could this be reversed?

She adjusted the scanner’s parameters, refining the data input. The interplay between the nanites and Zub’s biology warranted further study, but another case demanded her attention, one with far fewer unknowns but infinitely greater certainty.

Nathan.

T’Lara had examined his neural scans extensively, each image reinforcing the same inescapable conclusion. The Romulan bio-weapon had devastated his nervous system, unraveling it beyond known medical repair. The degradation was rapid, ruthless. Every moment lost had drastically decreased the minuscule probability of recovery. Medically speaking, Nathan was already gone.

But Christie refused to accept that.

T’Lara understood resistance to loss. She had seen it countless times—in war zones, in clandestine operations, in the eyes of those left behind. Yet logic dictated that delaying the inevitable only prolonged suffering.

Christie was not ready to let go.

T’Lara exhaled, a slow, measured breath. Was she?

She turned her attention back to Gemma. The scanner’s readout remained ambiguous. If her nanites could be reactivated, if her systems could be restored, she might yet defy the clinical finality of her condition.

Perhaps Nathan could not be saved. Perhaps Christie would never accept that truth. But T’Lara was not yet prepared to concede Gemma’s fate to the same inevitability. Not without understanding why she had collapsed. Not without knowing if the woman Koniki had sculpted into an unyielding force still had the means to reclaim herself.

Her green eyes flicked to Zub’s unwavering grip on Gemma’s hand.

"Do not let go," she instructed, voice calm, though her mind raced. "I need more data."

A rapid burst of movement caught her attention. Maya rushed into the room, clutching a data tablet.

"Doctor T’Lara," the Shillian said, slightly breathless. "I ran a full comprehensive scan of Simone’s head, focusing on how energy and possibly data could be transferred from the nodes to Gemma’s nanites. It was an interesting..."

T’Lara interrupted. "Clarify your conclusion."

Maya hesitated briefly before pressing forward. "The nodes in Simone’s head communicate through a highly sophisticated quantum entanglement system. It’s the same process Gemma’s nanites use to link and adapt. Figured that out thanks to the internal sensors in the Forensics Lab that were able to scan her when she collapsed."

T’Lara’s brow barely lifted, but internally, the implications raced through her mind.

"What?" Zub breathed, his grip instinctively tightening around Gemma’s hand. "I thought Gemma’s nanites were based on Borg technology?"

Maya nodded. "Like the bio-weapon which was originally of Romulan design, the Yautja altered it for their own war against the Lokustaar. So it is conceivable they had access to Borg nanites, and repurposed them to suit their needs."

"A fascinating possibility," T’Lara mused. "That does not explain how these would-be modified nanites came to be in Gemma, unless..." She narrowed her gaze on the scanner’s readout, dismissing her train of thought to instead focus on the immediate issue. "If their interface with the data nodes disrupted their function, the nanites may now be seeking a more stable signal, one that matches their original configuration. That could serve as a blueprint for self-restoration."

Zub’s jaw clenched. "How do we use that information to save her?"

T’Lara’s expression remained impassive. "We cannot intervene directly." She met his gaze. "You must maintain contact. If the nanites are establishing a quantum connection, severing it prematurely may compromise whatever process they are attempting to complete. We can only wait—and hope that they are trying to save her."

Silence settled over the room, broken only by the quiet hum of medical scanners.

For the first time in a long time, logic alone did not satisfy T’Lara’s need for answers.

=-=

Dawn Bohr

Lt. Commander T'Lara

Chief Medical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

=-=

"An Unavoidable Decision"

Previous post: "Logic vs Survival" by the emotionally logical Dawn

=-=

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.2120

The silence was suffocating. It pressed in from every side, thick with the weight of the decision no one wanted to make. The gentle sounds of medical equipment faded into the background, drowned out by the quiet but desperate voices of Amanda and Christie.

“You can’t do this,” Christie pleaded, her hands curled into fists at her sides. “We’re supposed to fight for family. We don’t give up.”

Amanda stood beside her, eyes filled with unshed tears. “There has to be another way. Something you haven’t thought of yet.”

Shar’El had heard those words before. The desperate denial, the refusal to accept reality. She had seen it in grieving parents, in devastated shipmates, in herself. No matter how much she wanted to give them hope, there was none left to give.

She looked at the biobed, at the small, fragile body that lay motionless beneath the sterile light. Nathan was gone, even if his heart still beat. What was left of him was a hollow shell, a body that science could sustain but never restore. Shar’El had searched, reached deep with her mind, hoping for even a flicker of memory, a single echo of the boy who had laughed and fought and survived the horrors of the Training Matrix. There was nothing. Only silence. A vast, empty void where a mind should have been.

T’Lara, standing beside her, remained calm, composed. The logical course was clear. Keeping Nathan in this state served no purpose beyond prolonging the inevitable. Still, even the Vulcan’s voice was softer than usual.

“There is no recovery from this,” T’Lara said. “We have exhausted every possibility. The damage is irreversible.”

Amanda turned to Adriana, pleading with her sister to intervene. The Ship’s Counselor looked torn, torn between the unshakable truth she had to acknowledge and the anguish radiating from her twin. Adriana opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, she just gave a small, broken nod and closed her eyes, took a breath, and in that moment, Shar’El knew she wouldn’t fight them on this.

The choice had already been made. It had been made the moment Nathan collapsed, the moment his body succumbed to the bio-weapon that had twisted his life into something fragile and fleeting.

Shar’El stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t want this any more than you do. But Nathan is already gone.”

Christie shook her head. “No. No, he’s not. He’s right there.”

Shar’El wished she could believe that. But the truth was merciless. Nathan wasn’t there anymore. Yes, his body was there, but his essence, everything that made him who he was, had been ravaged by the Yautja modified bio-weapon.

T’Lara moved to the controls, her fingers poised over the final sequence. The shimmering bio-stasis field hummed softly, a barrier between life and the cold reality waiting just beyond it. Shar’El forced herself to meet Amanda’s gaze, then Christie’s. They deserved to be here. To see. To say goodbye.

She rested a hand on the edge of the biobed. The metal was cool beneath her fingertips, a stark contrast to the warmth of the boy who had once been full of life. She wished she had the power to change this. But she didn’t. No one did.

Shar’El gave a small nod.

T’Lara pressed the final command.

The bio-stasis field flickered, then faded. Nathan’s chest rose, fell, each breath shallower than the one before.

No alarms. No sudden beeping of monitors. Just silence.

Shar’El closed her eyes for half a second, just long enough to bury the weight of it deep inside, before she straightened. She thought Satella’s loss had numbed her to this kind of pain. She had been wrong. Another loss. Another casket to be placed in Cargo Bay 7.

She turned to leave, but not before her hand brushed lightly against the biobed once more, a silent farewell.

She did not need to stay to know how this would end.

=-=

Tiffany Reeve

Commander Shar'El

Executive Officer

USS ANUBIS

"Entangled Fates"

Previous post: "An Unavoidable Decision"

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.2121

Dr. T'Lara stood by the control panel, her Vulcan/Romulan features impassive as she observed the fading readings. Logic dictated that terminating the cryogenic field was the only course of action left. Nathan was beyond conventional medicine’s reach, and prolonging the inevitable served no practical purpose.

The ExO lingered for only a moment before turning toward the exit, unwilling to watch what came next. Experience had forced her to deal with this type of situation countless times before, and with the loss of Satella Bruxa still all too fresh in her and everyone else’s mind, this was too much. The decision had been made, and now they all needed to find a way to accept it.

Christie, sobbing next to the biobed, clutched Nathan’s lifeless hand, her expression twisting with helpless grief. Amanda and Adriana exchanged pained glances, their own emotions threatening to overwhelm them. The sense of loss in the room was tangible.

-=-=-

Setting:  Inside Gemma’s Mind

Stardate: Not Applicable

Chaos. Voices overlapping. A whirlwind of arguments as personalities fought for control, yet none could dominate. Beyond that was an ongoing war, one setting the darkness found within the Yautja data taken from the nodes inside Simone's head against the myriad of personalities that could not even begin to agree on what needed to be done.

The Yautja programming, assisted by something else lingering on the outer reach of the quantum entanglement that linked them all, had nearly completed its hostile takeover of Gemma’s nanites, claiming them one by one. But something opposed this... a weaker signal, much closer. It allowed the nanites to fight back, overwriting the new programming with their original settings.

"There!" Wimda exclaimed, her disembodied voice drawing attention to a small point of light within the encroaching darkness.

"It's too weak," Ema Fairchild murmured, the weight of her sigh almost crushing.

"No, it’s not," Jinx countered, the resilient bounty hunter’s form emerging from the void.

"We need to establish a defensive line," Shinral said as she joined Jinx. "That light, that link is all we have left. If we lose it, we are done for."

"Relax," Viras, the hacker, grinned. "I've got this." She extended a hand toward the light, while her other hand pointed into the darkness. A beam of powerful energy erupted, slicing through the void.

"We need to work as one," Lyric urged, her call for unity more vital than ever.

"You cannot win," a shadowed voice bellowed from the abyss. "You have already lost. You belonged to us long before you touched the matrix." A giant Yautja hunter began to take shape within the darkness.

"What do you mean *we belong to you*?" Tahlia questioned, stepping forward, her diplomat’s instincts taking over. She had only come into existence after Gemma had interacted with the Yautja stasis pod, yet something in the hunter’s words sent a chill through her.

"You know exactly what we mean," the voice thundered like a raging storm.

"She does not," another voice countered, this one familiar. "But I do, and they are ready to learn the truth." A massive holographic image appeared in front of the Yautja hunter. "Your technology may have been used to create Gemma, may even have been responsible for who she first was, but no longer. They are the proof of that," GAMMA stated, her light illuminating the growing number of personalities emerging from the darkness.

Anya Petrov moved forward, standing next to Lyric. A moment later, Kael joined them, standing on Lyric’s other side. With matching grins, the two personalities exchanged a glance before charging into the darkness.

They would not allow this darkness to win. They would not just stand by as they were turned into something different, something darker.

The battle was fierce... a war of will that would have shattered the mind of anyone else. Gemma stood on the edge, watching as the conflict unfolded within her. Then she felt something, an overwhelming sadness, a pang of despair from a familiar source.

Zub.

Gemma turned toward the small point of light behind them. Feelings, sounds, and images flashed before her. Nathan was dead... or would be very soon. The Romulan neurological bio-weapon had devastated his body beyond hope of repair.

"We can't just stand here!" Gabrielle Wolfe snapped. "We have the tools and knowledge to fix this."

"What tools? What knowledge?" Gemma asked.

"There," Gabrielle pointed at the Yautja hunter. "Can’t you see it? Nathan’s neurological pathways are there, stored in the data we inherited."

"We don’t even understand the full consequences of acting," Abrasivnyy objected, her voice lost in the chaos of battle.

"It’s simple," Wimda mused, her scientist’s mind already calculating. "The transfer could work, but it will cost us."

"A cost she must bear," GAMMA said with quiet certainty. "Gemma is ready."

A revelation surged through her subconscious. Her nanites were Yautja-modified Borg tech, not Terran. Quantum entanglement. A lingering connection to the Training Matrix. The pieces fell into place, forming a singular conclusion: she could save Nathan, but it would come at a price.

-=-=-

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44355.2122

Gemma’s eyes snapped open, her body surging with a singular, overpowering drive. Adrenaline, precision, desperation—every fiber of her being focused on one thing: saving Nathan.

She moved instantly.

Zub reacted just as fast, grabbing her wrist in a crushing grip. The shock of seeing her awake was quickly replaced by fear reflecting the intensity in her eyes. "Gemma, stop! You are in no condition to..."

She had no time for this. In a blur, she pivoted, evading his grasp with practiced precision. If Zub wouldn’t let go, she would make him. A precise strike to a nerve cluster. His limbs faltered as he staggered back, just long enough for her to act.

T’Lara turned sharply, sensing the shift. "Gemma?!?"

Christie and Amanda moved to intercept, but they were too slow. Gemma’s speed surpassed them. Every block, every sidestep, every disabling strike was calculated... meant to delay, not injure. They were her family. But she had no choice.

Everything around her came into sharp focus, her mind processing at speeds beyond anything she had experienced before. She grabbed a medical laser scalpel and made a precise incision along her hand. Then another, this time on Nathan’s arm.

She pressed her wound against his, forcing her blood to mix with his.

Pain. A war within herself. The Yautja data fought back, resisting the purge. Each fragment lost weakened her further. Her vision blurred. The world swayed. It only took a few seconds, but it was enough.

She collapsed.

Zub, regaining control, lunged forward, catching her before she hit the ground. "GEMMA!"

Silence. Utter silence. Everyone stood frozen, stunned.

Fearing for Nathan, Christie instinctively reached for him, her fingers trembling. It took her a few seconds, but she noticed something, something odd. "His wound... It’s healing." Bruising faded. Skin knit together before her eyes.

T’Lara scanned both Gemma and Nathan, frowning at the readings. "Gemma’s nanite count has dropped," she announced. "The missing nanites have been transferred into Nathan," then she paused for a brief yet eternal moment. "Interesting. Based on these readings, they are repairing the neurological damage. No, not repairing, but reconstructing. How is that possible?"

"It's Gemma we are talkin about," Zub said as he held the woman's unconscious form, his grip tightening. "Anything is possible with her." He emotionally added. He didn’t hear voices. But he felt it... the war she had fought inside herself. The price she had paid.

She was alive.

But at what cost?

=-=

Rachel Jackie Johnson

Lieutenant Gemma

Intel Operative

USS ANUBIS

[The fun is getting to wear multiple disguises and getting to explore multiple personalities and bring them to life. - Jenna Fischer]

##########

"Aftermath"

Previous post: "Entangled Fates" by Rachel

##########

- Ancient Promellian saying

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Captain's Ready Room

Stardate: 44357.0830

The Native American Commanding Officer of the USS ANUBIS sat at his desk, a pensive expression on his face as he made his official report.

*"Captain's Log, Stardate 44357.0830. It has been almost 36 hours since... well, since the impossible became reality. Nathan is still in Sickbay, his recovery, according to medical reports, is progressing very well. The nanites that Gemma transferred to him are, as per her explanation, rebuilding his physical and neurological systems, restoring him to full health. I have to admit that I am personally impressed by those little machines, tirelessly working to save a young boy who both Doctor T'Lara and Commander Shar'El had officially listed as dead.

As joyous as the conclusion of this situation is, though, I cannot help but question what this means for our Lt. Gemma and the crew of the ANUBIS as a whole. Something happened to Gemma, and we are all still trying to understand what it was.

On another medical note, Doctor T'Lara and Lieutenant Commander Maya have developed a cure for the Yautja-modified Romulan bio-weapon. Once the crew is fully inoculated, and we have confirmed that all traces of the bioweapon have been eradicated, the ANUBIS will be able to rendezvous with the USS NILE, where the 190 rescued Terrans are to be transferred to before being transported to a Federation medical facility.

Before joining the NILE though, I will need to speak with our two civilian guests to discuss their future aboard the ANUBIS, their situation not being as simple as it might have initially appeared."

--==/\==--

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Black Hole Lounge

Stardate: 44357.0845

The mood across the entire ship had been much lighter than it had been only a few days ago. Many were rejoicing at the news that a cure for the bio-weapon had been found and would soon be distributed to the crew. As great as that news had been, the four women sitting at the table and enjoying breakfast were celebrating something far more personal... Nathan was alive.

"This crew is amazing," Christie noted, her features radiating a happiness she had not expected to ever feel again.

"Yes, they are," Cristhiane agreed, reaching over to gently squeeze her daughter's hand. Had it not been for the ANUBIS, the mother-daughter duo would never have been reunited.

"Now that this ordeal is finally behind us," Adriana began before taking a sip of her tea. "You need to seriously think about what you’ll be doing next," the counsellor said. Although she was looking at her sister, the statement had been directed at everyone at the table.

"Are you kicking me off the ANUBIS?" Amanda teasingly gasped, exaggerating her dramatic gestures.

"Absolutely not!" the twin sister fired back with a smile. "I want you to stay here where I can keep an eye on you. I’ve already requested to have my quarters moved to one with two bedrooms. That way you and I can stay together. I was just saying that you need to give some thought as to what you’ll be doing here on the ANUBIS."

Amanda grinned. "I’ve been following you for the majority of your Starfleet career, so I have a good idea of what being on this ship means, but I’ll still need to think about it. I could work with Sonja in Engineering, Maya in the science Labs, or maybe Ya'Han would allow me to tag along as ship's security."

Adriana's shoulders dropped. "Really? Why not ask Gemma to work in the IGC while you're at it?"

The twins started laughing. "Whatever I end up doing, it will be fun, and a little weird. Let's be honest, I am out of practice with physically interacting with people."

"What about us?" Cristhiane asked, a hint of panic in her voice. "We don’t have anything or anywhere to go. Everything I had managed to save was on my ship."

"Mom," Christie offered, her voice and touch a source of reassurance. "We’ll figure it out. We always do."

"They are not kicking you off the ANUBIS either," Amanda said, firing a sideways glare at her sister. "Right?"

Adriana sighed, taking Amanda’s hand into hers. "The ANUBIS is a Federation vessel with a very specific mission profile. It is not safe for civilians to be here."

"Are you kidding me?" Amanda snapped, her mood instantly shifting as she pulled her hand away from her sister’s. "The ANUBIS is a bloody flying fortress. I doubt there’s any safer place in the entire universe. Cristhiane has already displayed medical know-how that I’m sure Dr. T'Lara could use, and I can vouch for Christie that she wouldn’t be a burden to the crew. There’s no reason for either one of them to NOT stay on the ANUBIS."

The conversation came to a sudden stop when Maya approached the table, the Shillian scientist holding a small medical carrying case. "Good morning," she said with enthusiasm. "Due to the scale of the inoculation process, meaning that we have to make sure we see and inject every person on board the ANUBIS with the cure for the Romulan bio-weapons, it was decided that we would go to them, instead of having them flood Sickbay for the next few days."

Amanda quickly stood and presented her arm to the Chief Science Officer while still glaring at Adriana. Maya quickly injected the cure into her arm and was surprised when the standing twin stormed out of the Black Hole Lounge, forcing the Shillian to quickly inject the cure into the counsellor's upper arm before she rushed after her sister.

After a few moments, Christie offered her arm as well, forcing Maya’s attention back onto the task that had brought her here in the first place. "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander," the daughter offered once the injection was completed. "Thank you for everything you have done for me, for my mother, for Nathan."

Maya simply smiled and nodded her head. "I am very glad that it all worked out as it did."

Cristhiane followed her daughter'slead and offered her arm, looking at Christie with heartfelt concerns about what their future might hold.

--==/\==--

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Gymnasium

Stardate: 44357.0850

"You need to take it easy," Jayson forcefully stated, but the fiery red-haired Nylaan was not listening as she continued to push herself in her training.

"That Yautja almost killed us both," Ya'Han said between grunts as shepunched one of the training dummies with every ounce of strength she had. "That should not have happened."

"That thing was bigger, stronger, faster, and could CLOAK itself," Stark gasped in disbelief. "It’s not fair to compare yourself to that creature. It took a group of marines to finally take it out."

"Yes," the Chief of Security admitted, finally taking a moment to catch her breath and turn to Jayson. "I am eternally grateful to them for showing up when they did," she said as emotions threatened to overwhelm her as she gently reached to caress Jayson's cheek. "If it hadn’t been for them, neither one of us would be here right now. I’m also grateful for what you did to protect me."

"I know," Jayson grinned like a child on Christmas morning. "And I would do it again without hesitation."

"Exactly," Ya'Han noted. "That’s why I have to train and be better, because I wouldn’t be able to make it without you. So, I need to be better at protecting us both so that you never again have to feel the need to be a hero."

"Figured you two would be here," A'Janni said, interrupting the couple as he stepped inside the gymnasium, a small medical case in his hands. "I’m here to make sure everyone gets their shot for the Romulan bio-weapon."

"They’ve got you playing nurse?" the Operations Officer chuckled at the Flight Control Officer.

"Making sure that the entire crew gets this shot as quickly as possible means that some of us have to help, while others are supposed to be resting," A'Janni said, grinning at Ya'Han.

"Don’t go there," Jayson warned with laughter. "She won’t listen and is liable to toss you onto the mat for suggesting it."

The Nylaan’s lips twisted into a sideways smile as she grabbed the Terran man and effortlessly flipped him onto the nearest mat. "He’s right," Ya'Han added as she took the hypospray from the Caitian and knelt next to Jayson to inject him with his dose. Once she returned to her feet, A'Janni placed the second hypospray to the woman’s neck and injected her with the cure. "Glad to see everything is back to normal here," the FCO chuckled as he made his way out of the gymnasium.

--==/\==--

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Gemma's Quarters

Stardate: 44357.0850

"You are a stubborn woman," Zub sighed with frustration as he followed Gemma into her quarters. "You should still be in Sickbay. Yes, your nanites are working, yes, they have repaired all of the visible damage, and yes, you appear to be fine, but I know that you’re pushing yourself. The nanites you gave Nathan to save his life, and the ones that inadvertently found their way into me, have left you weaker, needing more time to recuperate and regenerate. So you need to take it easy."

"You having some of my nanites in you does not mean you understand me or who I am," the ILO said, pressing her lips together in a visible display of annoyance.

"Granted," Zub acknowledged taking a small step back, "but it does put me in a unique position to do so. All you have to do is allow me to."

"You have no idea what I’m capable of," Gemma countered as she turned away from him.

"I don’t agree," the Voth said, gently taking hold of her wrist, forcing her to turn back to look at him. "I know how dangerous Anya is, I know how loving Seksa can be, I know how smart Wimdalli is. I also know that they are all but a small part of who Gemma is, and as scared as I may be of what some of them might do to me or others, I am still here. You need to stop trying to be that perfect ILO you believe yourself to have been programmed to be, and start accepting that you are a loving and caring woman. Why else would you have done what you did to save Nathan?"

Gemma paused, her gaze lost in the golden reflection in his eye. "I was able to save him only because you saved me first." That admission surprised her as much as it did him, leaving them both to stare at each other in silence, unsure of what this meant for them.

--==/\==--

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44357.0855

Shar'El walked up to T'Lara, the Romulan/Vulcan doctor standing in front of the main medical control panelreviewing the last scans of her one and only patient.

Sickbay feels empty, the Commander noted, looking at all of the vacant biobeds.

"There was no need to have them stay here, especially when some did not want to be here in the first place," T'Lara explained.

"That would have been Gemma," Shar'El giggled. "Speaking of her, how are the transfusion of nanites doing?"

"They appear to be functioning as designed," T'Lara replied, a touch of Romulan annoyance in her voice. "I am unable to get a full medical scan of his condition, as the nanites are interfering with my instruments as per their intended design. What partial data I am able to obtain is enough to see that the nanites are reconstructing his complete neurological system. In a few more days, he may walk out of here as if nothing happened."

"That is great news," Shar'El joyfully noted. "A lot of people are going to be very happy about that."

"Maybe so," the Vulcan/Romulan physician continued. "But that does not mean that Gemma is or will ever be the same. Thanks to my access to her file before coming aboard the ANUBIS, I know more about her physiology than most, but now that we have uncovered that her nanites were modified by the Yautja, I may not know her as well as I believed. The reduced number of nanites in her body will likely also affect her in ways we haven’t yet envisioned or expected. They are an integral part of her, of who she is. How would any of us behave if we lost some part of who we are?"

"Don’t worry your sweet little pointed ears, Doc," Sonja chimed in. "I’m here for my shot and to let you know that Ani and I will be keeping an eye on Gemma. She’s a member of this crew, a member of this family, and I’m not going to let a few missing miniature robots get in the way of that, no matter where they initially came from. I trust her, always have, always will. I’d be more concerned about Koniki because after all of this..." She waved her arms around. "...he’s not going to be happy. Not that he ever truly is."

--==(/\)==--

Francois Charette

Captain Erik Morningstar

Commanding Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

--

- Marcus Cole, Babylon 5

"A Place To Belong"

Previous post: "Aftermath” by Francois

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Black Hole Longe -> Corridor

Stardate: 44357.0850

Adriana barely hesitated before pushing herself away from the table, her heart pounding as she hurried after Amanda. Losing sight of her, even for a moment, sent a chill down her spine. The fear of losing her sister, after finally getting her back, was still raw, an open wound that had not even begun to heal.

To her credit, Amanda had always been quick. Adriana barely made it out of the lounge before her sister vanished into the ship’s corridors. But this was the ANUBIS, Adriana’s home, her domain. She knew this ship like the back of her hand, yet somehow, so did Amanda.

It took a moment for Adriana to remember why that was.

**She was with me. All those times I felt her presence, all those times she projected herself out of the Matrix. She saw everything. She learned everything.**

That realization didn’t lessen Adriana’s urgency. If anything, it intensified it. Amanda had spent her life in an illusion, existing only in the fragile space between the virtual and the real. Now that she was here, truly here, the weight of reality was crushing down on her.

Adriana had to find her sister, and quickly.

-=-=-

Setting: USS ANUBIS,  Deck 11 - Arboretum

Stardate: 44357.0910

Amanda stood in the middle of the lush greenery, eyes wide, her fingers brushing over the leaves of a small flowering plant as if it might vanish at any second. The subtle scent of damp earth and blooming flora filled her senses, a completely different universe from the sterile odorless air she had always known. Beneath her boots, the soft give of real soil felt foreign yet oddly grounding, a reminder that this world was no longer out of reach. The look on her face wasn’t one of anger anymore, but something far deeper... uncertainty, fear, awe.

Adriana slowed her approach. This wasn’t just about the argument in the lounge. This was about something much bigger.

“I’ve only seen trees in my dreams,” Amanda whispered, not turning around. “The real world was always something distant… something I could almost touch, but never quite.” She finally looked at Adriana, and for the first time since reuniting, her expression held more vulnerability than defiance. “I don’t know if I belong here.”

Adriana’s breath caught. She had spent so many years searching, hoping, aching for this moment, for her sister’s return. And now that Amanda was finally here, she was afraid she didn’t fit.

“You do,” Adriana said firmly, stepping closer. “You belong here with me.”

Amanda gave a small, humorless laugh. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve lived this life. You have purpose. Me? I don’t know what I am outside of the Matrix. I don’t know who I am without it.”

Adriana reached out, taking both of Amanda’s hands in hers. “You are my sister. You are Amanda Lopez. And you are real. That’s all that matters.”

Amanda swallowed hard, gripping Adriana’s hands as if letting go might make her disappear. “I want to stay, Adriana. I do. But I can’t just be here, taking up space. I need to do something. I need to matter.”

Adriana had anticipated this. Amanda had spent her entire life fighting to survive. She wouldn’t accept merely existing. “Then stay, and work with me,” Adriana suggested. “You know me better than anyone. You’ve followed me since the Academy, probably even before that. You understand people in ways no one else does because of what you’ve been through. So why not train as a counselor?”

Amanda blinked, clearly caught off guard. “A counselor?”

“For now. Consider it as being my assistant for the time being,” Adriana said with a small smile. “You don’t have to commit to it forever. But at least it gives you a purpose, something tangible to hold onto. Your knowledge of people, of their feelings and thoughts, and how being trapped in a false world can affect them. That gives you a solid foundation for Counseling work. If you want to do something else after, I am sure that we will find something that you will enjoy, but for now, I would love to have you work with me."

Amanda let out a shaky breath, looking around the Arboretum again. The vivid colors of the flowers, the rustling of leaves in the controlled breeze, the quiet sounds of life all around her, it was overwhelming, yet soothing in a way she hadn’t expected. Slowly, her shoulders relaxed as she let the reality of it all settle into her bones.. “That… actually makes sense.” Her lips curled into something almost resembling a smile. “I guess I’d get to spend even more time with you.”

“That’s the idea,” Adriana said, squeezing her sister’s hands. “I’m not losing you again.”

Amanda swallowed hard and nodded, her grip tightening. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

For what seemed like the first time in decades, Adriana felt like she could breathe.

And for the first time in Amanda’s life, she felt like she truly existed.

-=-=-

Marissa Montonera-Lombardi

Lieutenant JG Adriana Lopez

Ship's Counselor & Junior Ambassador

USS ANUBIS

"Logical Observations"

Previous post: "A Place to Belong"

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Sickbay

Stardate: 44357.0910

T’Lara watched as Sonja flexed her arm after receiving her inoculation. The redhead engineer’s confidence in the ILO was unwavering, but trust, T’Lara had learned, was rarely so absolute. Especially in matters of identity.

"You speak of trust as if it is immutable," T’Lara calmly stated, returning her attention to the medical console. "Yet trust is inherently adaptive, shaped by knowledge and circumstance. The nanites that define her physiology are not merely missing; their absence alters the equation. How can you be certain that what remains of her is the same entity you have always trusted?"

Sonja rolled her eyes, rubbing her arm. "Because I know Gemma," she countered, her Scottish accent growing thicker by the second. "And you should know by now that she’s more than the sum of her parts."

"You are offering a subjective assessment," T’Lara replied. "Biologically, however, she is not the same. The neurological restructuring alone may have unpredictable consequences. The balance of her personas, their stability, if such a term can be applied, may shift in ways we have yet to quantify. I do not deal in sentiment, Lieutenant Commander, I deal in facts."

"Yeah, yeah," Sonja grinned as she dismissed the Doctor's argument with a wave. "And the fact is, you care. Maybe not in the way the rest of us do, but it’s there, pointy ears and all."

T’Lara exhaled through her nose as a single eyebrow rose sharply, but the CMO did not dignify the remark with a response. Instead, she turned back to the biometric scans, observing the fluctuating energy signatures of the remaining nanites.

Shar’El, who had been listening silently, took a step closer. "What’s your professional assessment, Doctor? Will Gemma remain operational?"

T’Lara’s green eyes flickered toward the First Officer. "Functionality is not the issue, Commander. Identity is. The Yautja’s modifications of the nanites and her interface with their system may have imposed alterations beyond our understanding. The biological systems will stabilize in time. Whether her mind follows suit is another matter entirely."

Shar’El nodded, considering the weight of the statement. "We’ll keep an eye on her. If anything changes, I want to know."

"Naturally," T’Lara acknowledged, but in truth, she already knew she would be monitoring Gemma more closely than even the Commander had requested. Some wounds were not visible on a scanner, and if her hypothesis was correct, the most significant changes in Gemma might not be biological at all.

For now, however, all she could do was wait. And watch.

=-=

Dawn Bohr

Lt. Commander T'Lara

Chief Medical Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

=-=

"The ExO's Opinion"

Previous post: "Logical Observations" by the brilliant Dawn

=-=

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Bridge -> Captain's Ready Room

Stardate: 44357.1100

Shar’El stepped onto the bridge, her gaze immediately seeking out Captain Morningstar. The soothing sounds of the ship’s systems, the quiet beeping of consoles, and the low murmur of officers at their stations barely registered in her mind. Too many questions, too many variables, and too much at stake. The events of the past days had resolved some matters, but others lingered, demanding answers that were not easily found.

She crossed the bridge with purposeful strides, nodding briefly to Jayson Stark before stopping at the Captain’s chair. “Captain, may I have a word with you in private?”

Morningstar gave her a knowing look, no doubt already suspecting the nature of the conversation she was about to initiate. “My ready room,” he said, standing and leading the way.

Once inside, the door slid shut with a quiet hiss, enclosing them in the relative privacy of the Captain’s office. Morningstar gestured for her to sit, but she remained standing, arms crossed in contemplation.

"It's going to be one of those meetings, is it?" Erik teasingly said as he made his way around his desk.

“I'm afraid so," Shar'El replied, a faint smile dancing on her lips. "This is about Cristhiane and her daughter,” he added, leaning against his desk.

Shar’El inclined her head slightly. “Among other things. Sir, I’ve been reviewing what I was able to glean from Cristhiane’s memories. I have serious concerns about what will happen to them if they leave the ANUBIS. Their presence here has already placed them at risk, but given what they know, what they’ve experienced…” She hesitated, considering her words carefully. “If they fall into the wrong hands, they could become valuable assets... or targets. The Tal’Shiar may not tolerate their involvement in this situation.”

Morningstar exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I assume you’re suggesting we keep them here?”

Shar’El nodded. “I recognize that having civilians on board is not ideal, but given the alternatives, I see no better course of action. If we send them away, they could be intercepted. If we try to hide them, we risk drawing more attention. The ANUBIS is one of the few places where we can ensure their safety.”

The Captain considered this, his expression unreadable. “And Admiral Koniki?”

A shadow of a smirk crossed Shar’El’s lips. “He won’t be pleased. But unless he has a better alternative that ensures their safety, I believe we can make a strong case. Cristhiane has medical experience that could be useful in sickbay, and Christie… she’s young, but she’s resilient. She could find a place here, contribute in some way.”

Morningstar was silent for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “I have been thinking about that situation quite a bit already, and I agree with your assessment. The ANUBIS is the safest place for them to be at this time, if not from the Tal'Shiar, then from the other elements in their lives that brought them to us.”

"Like her ex-husband." Shar’El allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction before shifting to the next subject. “There’s also Nathan… and Gemma. Nathan is still adjusting, but his possible connection to the Yautja Matrix makes him an unusual case. He’s not like other civilians. And as for Gemma… Doctor T’Lara is monitoring her closely, but we need to keep a close eye on her. There may be

changes in her we’re not fully prepared for.”

Morningstar exhaled, his tone weary but resolute. “One problem at a time, Commander.” He met her gaze, his confidence unwavering. “We’ll handle this. We always do, plus we have time. OUr rendezvous with the USS NILE is still several days off.”

Shar’El gave a single nod. “Understood, Captain.” She turned to leave but hesitated briefly before adding, “Thank you.”

Without another word, she stepped back onto the bridge, her mind already working through the next steps. The future for Cristhiane, Christie, Nathan, and Gemma was uncertain, but at least for now, they were safe. And on the ANUBIS, that was the best they could hope for.

=-=

Tiffany Reeve

Commander Shar'El

Executive Officer

USS ANUBIS

"Checking Out the VIPERS"

Previous post: "The ExO's Opinion" by Tiffany

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck 9, Corridor

Stardate: 44357.1300

The low, steady vibrations of the ANUBIS' engines provided a constant, almost soothing backdrop as A'Janni made his way through the launch bay, his sharp feline eye scanning the two Viper-Class interceptors lined up before him. With the ship casually making its way toward the USS NILE for the transfer of the rescued Terrans, now was as good a time as any to give the small craft a proper once-over.

He placed a large hand on the hull of the nearest fighter, feeling the faint warmth of the bio-regenerative hull-matrix at work. Though not as resilient as the ANUBIS' own hull, it could adapt its coloration to match its surroundings, making the fighter an ideal tool for covert operations. Designed to operate in both atmospheric and orbital conditions, the VIPERs were the perfect answer when maneuvering space was too limited for the SCARAB-Class. Limited range aside, their maneuverability, speed, and offensive capabilities made them more than a match for most threats.

A'Janni climbed up the side ladder and lowered himself into the cockpit. The familiar grip of the joystick fit naturally into his hand, a rare blend of old-school piloting with modern neural interface controls. He ran a quick systems check, ensuring that everything was in working order, When the soft patter of approaching footsteps reached his keen ears. He turned his gaze toward the hangar entrance and saw Christie hesitantly stepping forward.

"You need something?" A'Janni asked, his tone more curious than suspicious.

Christie hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "I heard a lot about these ships. That they're fast, powerful, and that only the best pilots can handle them. I wanted to see them for myself."

The Caitian smirked. "They're not just fast. They're built for precision, for quick engagements where every second counts. The neural link lets the ship respond to your thoughts, making reaction time almost instantaneous. It's as close as you can get to flying with instinct alone."

She nodded, her eyes trailing along the sleek contours of the interceptor. "Sounds incredible. So, two people can fly in one?"

A'Janni raised an eyebrow at that. "Technically, yes. One pilot, one co-pilot. The second seat is usually for a weapons officer or support specialist."

Christie seemed deep in thought, her fingers lightly running along the hull of the nearest VIPER. A'Janni studied her carefully. It was one thing to be curious about the ship, but something in her demeanor set off a nagging doubt in his mind.

"You thinking about signing up to be a pilot?" he asked, half-joking.

She shook her head quickly. "No, nothing like that. I was just wondering... how hard would it be for someone like me to fly one of these?"

A'Janni's ears flicked back slightly, a subtle tell of his unease. Christie and her mother, Cristhiane, had been welcomed aboard the ANUBIS as guests, their safety guaranteed. And yet, the way she asked that question... Was she considering an escape plan? Did she think she and her mother weren’t truly safe here?

He leaned back slightly, watching her carefully. "Not just anyone can fly these. It takes training, experience. But if someone were desperate enough, they might try. I doubt they would get too far though," the Caitian warned. "The systems of the VIPERs are linked to the ANUBIS, allowing for constant monitoring and overriding controls if the need should arise."

She lingered for just a moment before nodding and stepping away, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere. She stopped and turned almost as an afterthought, meeting his gaze. "Good to know. Thanks for explaining, Lieutenant."

She turned and left, leaving A'Janni alone with his thoughts and the nagging suspicion that this conversation had not been as casual as it seemed.

=-=

Jayson Sousa

Lieutenant JG A'Janni

Flight Control Officer

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

Lieutenant Jayson Stark

Chief of Operations

USS ANUBIS, NCC-18501

=-=

“Retrograde”

Previous post: “Checking Out the VIPERS” by Jayson

=-=

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Holodeck

Stardate: 44357.1305

The holodeck shimmered to life around them, forming the familiar rocky terrain of one of their many training programs. The perfect place to push limits. The kind of test Gemma usually thrived in.

Zub watched as she took her position, rolling her shoulders as if to shake off an unseen weight. He had seen her fight countless times, flawless, efficient, untouchable. But this time, something was off. Her stance lacked its usual precision. Her breath was just a little too controlled, as if she were compensating.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked, crossing his arms over his barrel of a chest.

“I need to,” Gemma replied sharply, stepping forward. “Activate scenario. Level nine.”

The holographic opponents materialized around them, tall, armored combatants with jagged weapons and no mercy. The simulation had barely begun when Zub noticed it. She was slower.

Not by much, at least, not to an untrained eye. But he could see it. The way she dodged was a fraction of a second behind. The way she countered lacked the razor-sharp efficiency she usually displayed.

Zub hand-checked a blow and chest-kicked his opponent hard enough to stagger it back a step or two. In the scant gap between attacks, he watched Gemma fight with less of her usual ferocity.

Then it happened.

A glancing blow. It shouldn’t have even touched her. Yet, instead of twisting out of reach, Gemma miscalculated by just enough for the strike to clip her side. She faltered.

Zub’s stomach tightened. He finished off his own opponent with a single brutal strike and turned just in time to see her parry sluggishly against the next attack.

“End program,” he barked, and the holodeck flickered back to its neutral grid.

Gemma straightened; her breath steady despite the clear evidence that she wasn’t at her best. “Why did you...”

“You hesitated,” he said, stepping closer. “You never hesitate.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t hesitate.”

“You did.” He exhaled, his gaze searching hers. “Gemma, you’re not at full strength. You can’t just pretend nothing’s wrong.”

She clenched her jaw, but he could see it now, the exhaustion she was trying to bury, the weight of diminished nanites dragging her down. For the first time, Gemma wasn’t invincible.

“Let me help,” Zub said, softer this time.

For a moment, she just stood there, looking at him. The ever-present resistance, the walls she always kept up, he saw them waver. Just for a second.

Then she turned away. “I don’t need help.”

But she didn’t sound as certain as she had before.

He moved in front of her, shifted into a martial arts stance and brought up his hands in three-fingered hard fists “I am slower than you. Let’s spar. If I land a blow that you don’t stop, would that be proof that you are fighting below par?”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You know I will seriously injure you.”

He smiled. “I think not. Besides, we have a CMO with all kinds of healing tricks.”

“This won’t take long.” She settled into the same stance as Enel. “Resume program sans opponents. Environment only.”

Immediately, the harsh light, imposing boulders, craggy cliffs, narrow ledges, and shifting ground reappeared. The simulated terrain was made for maw'vul shari, an athletic form of Klingon/Romulan parkour which involved raining down blows while bouncing from rock to crag to mid-air.

Zub could never predict exactly what moves Gemma would use, but he was used to seeing her throw three blows or kicks in the wink of an eye: high, low and middle. True enough he managed, just barely, to fend off two lightning-fast punches and a high kick all powerful enough for his blocks to smart and make loud meaty smacks.

Arms hurting from the parries, he pivoted with her. She skipped sideways and leaped like a two-legged gazelle up a boulder and put a foot on a sheer cliff facel. Knowing she’d launch herself at him like a spinning, punching, kicking cloud of major hurt, he got his forearms up to block.

His surging adrenaline made her seem to slow. Her boot flexed on the wall, her knee bent taking her closer to the rock. Her shoulder started a spin at her waist. Her coppery hair splayed into a shimmering fan. Her hands formed into one fist and one flat blade. Her blue eyes glared through him. He knew without thinking, her mind was three moves past whatever she was going to subject him to.

She launched, spinning around her long axis, bringing her wall foot around for a gut kick. Enel simply trusted his years of training and let his body defend itself. There was no space for thinking with Gemma.

He made himself into a backward C as Gemma came tumbling over him like a humanoid throwing star, He swept up one arm to block her chop at his throat, the other blocked a downward strike at his face. Her boot would have plowed into his midsection, but his being bent backward, he dropped his knees to lower his body out of range. He closed a hand around her ankle as her foot glided a micron above his chest and face.

Already tingling with stress hormones and a lot of fear, he felt his downy feathers spike from under his scales. Grabbing any part of Gemma was asking for blunt trauma amputation. But, he held on because he knew this was his proof. He shouldn’t have been able to touch her.

She yanked hard at her foot as her momentum carried her by. Her other boot kicked back toward him like she intended to break his arm. Letting her weight pull him over onto his back, he managed to catch that ankle too. She started kicking violently like he’d caught the hind legs of an enraged Andorian bull. Sliding on his back he held on. His considerable weight brought her flight to a halt. She dropped prone to hold herself up on her hands. Her head hung down. Her red hair cascaded down to frame her face in curls. She glared at him with surprise and alarm.

=-=

Rachel Jackie Johnson

Lieutenant Gemma

Intel Operative

USS ANUBIS

[The fun is getting to wear multiple disguises and getting to explore multiple personalities and bring them to life. - Jenna Fischer]

And

David Michael Inverso

Lieutenant JG Zub Enel

MCO

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

“When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.”

— Franklin D. Roosevelt

##########

"Friendly Confrontation"

Previous post: "Retrograde" by David and Rachel

##########

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Corridor

Stardate: 44357.1310

The turbolift doors slid open with a faint hiss, revealing the now familiar corridors of the ANUBIS. Christie stepped out, her mind still lingering on the sleek VIPER-class interceptors she had just seen. Before she could take a step further, a figure was waiting for her... an android with an eerily human presence.

"Good afternoon, Christie," Ani greeted, her tone polite but tinged with a perceptiveness that could only come from a fully integrated ship's Avatar. Her nearly solid black eyes, free of judgment yet intensely observant, met Christie's gaze. "Might I ask about your interest in the VIPERs?"

Christie blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She hadn't expected anyone to take notice of her curiosity, much less be confronted about it. "Oh, I was just... curious. I've never seen ships like those before. They’re impressive."

Ani's head tilted ever so slightly, the movement graceful. "Your heart rate has elevated. That often occurs when one is surprised or... uncertain. You are neither under suspicion nor reprimand. My inquiry is purely procedural."

"Right." Christie shifted, trying to shake the discomfort creeping over her. "I just wanted to see them up close. After everything that's happened, I guess I wanted to understand what kind of technology the ANUBIS has. You know, to feel safe."

Ani's gaze remained unwavering. "It is understandable to seek assurance in unfamiliar surroundings. However, your specific inquiries about piloting capabilities and operational limitations are noteworthy."

Christie's eyes widened, realization dawning. "You heard all of that?" She frowned slightly before attempting a soft chuckle. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You're part of the ship, after all. I heard Commander Paquette mention something to that effect."

"That is correct. My awareness extends to all activities aboard the ANUBIS," Ani affirmed. "I have also been programmed to evaluate potential security risks. That includes monitoring sudden interests in tactical resources."

"It wasn't like that," Christie protested, the weight of Ani's words sinking in. "I mean, I know how it must've looked, but I wasn’t planning anything. It's just... after so long in that Matrix, not knowing if we’d ever get out, I guess some part of me wanted to be sure. Like... if things ever went wrong again. After so many years of being on the run with my mother, I guess it has become a standard reflex, one that I am not fully even aware of."

Ani's expression softened... or at least conveyed the appearance of it. "Survival instincts are natural. Given your past experiences, such thoughts are not unusual."

Christie swallowed, the tension in her shoulders easing. "I’m sorry if I caused any concern. I really wasn’t thinking of anything more than... curiosity."

"Apology accepted," Ani replied simply. "Commander Shar’El has been informed. Should further clarification be needed, she will reach out to you."

Christie nodded, a flush of embarrassment colouring her cheeks. "Thank you, Ani. And... for what it’s worth, I appreciate how thorough you are."

"Your acknowledgment is noted. Have a pleasant day, Christie."

With that, Ani turned and proceeded down the corridor, her movements fluid and precise. Christie watched her go, releasing a small, shaky breath. She had felt Ani's calm scrutiny like a weight pressing down on her, but the moment had passed. Little did she know that Shar’El had been monitoring her thoughts all along, quietly satisfied that Christie’s intentions had been genuine.

Shar’El, unseen and unnoticed, allowed herself the faintest nod. There were no threats here... only the lingering shadows of fear created by years of endless trauma. Hopefully, time on the ANUBIS and interacting with its crew would help mend those deep emotional scars.

--==(/\)==--

Francois Charette

on behalf of Cristhiane M

Cristhiane Smith

Mother of Christie Smith

Civilian guest

USS ANUBIS, NCC 18501

---

"Just More Questions"

(Previous Post: "Friendly Confrontation")

---

Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck 13, Stellar Cartography

Stardate: 44357.1330

The soft ambient vibration of the USS ANUBIS' internal systems provided a subtle reminder of the constant motion as it sped toward the USS NILE, granted at reduced speed. For most, the approaching rendezvous represented closure, the final act of an arduous mission that had pushed the limits of both body and mind. For Lieutenant Commander Maya, however, it marked nothing more than a shift in focus. The scientific enigmas unearthed during the rescue of the one hundred and ninety Terrans had not vanished; they merely sprawled outward, branching into new mysteries that refused to be neatly tied up and resolved.

It was a most invigorating state of affairs.

Stellar Cartography provided the perfect sanctuary for such expansive thought. The five-deck tall chamber, encased by a sweeping panoramic display, projected a living map of the galaxy, its holographic capabilities offering an unparalleled view of the surrounding region. Nebulae pulsed in radiant hues, star systems glimmered with measured brilliance, and the subtle gravitational distortions of unexplored anomalies wove their silent tales across lightyears of empty space. Within this immersive environment, the boundaries of perception stretched, allowing the mind to move freely from one inquiry to the next.

The Shillian scientist had always found it difficult to maintain singular focus for any extended period of time. It was not for lack of discipline, nor was it indicative of a deficient attention span. Quite the opposite, in fact. Her mind simply did not cease, leaping from one scientific curiosity to the next with an eagerness that few others appeared to share or even comprehend. With the immediate crisis of the Romulan bio-weapon resolved, her mental landscape had returned to its usual state of vibrant chaos.

The matter of Gemma's nanites occupied a prominent place among her many trains of thought. It was, after all, no small matter to reconstruct the neurological pathways of an entire human body. The transfer of some of those nanites to Nathan, containing the neurological map required to reconstruct his damaged pathways, was a scientific marvel in itself. Yet, the implications of that process remained uncertain. Would the nanites maintain their efficacy over time? Could prolonged exposure to Yautja-modified Borg technology alter Nathan on a fundamental level? And what of Gemma herself? The reduction of her nanite count was an unavoidable consequence, but the long-term effects on her physiology and cognition were still entirely unknown. There was no reliable data to extrapolate from, given the unique nature of the nanites in question, which only added further layers to the ever-expanding mystery.

Of course, that particular enigma was but one facet of the broader puzzle. The discovery that the nanites bore traces of Yautja-modified Borg technology was, in itself, a revelation that demanded further scrutiny. The Yautja's capacity to manipulate and adapt such an advanced and invasive technological construct spoke to a level of scientific sophistication that was both formidable and utterly enigmatic. How had they acquired Borg technology to begin with? What prompted them to alter it? And to what ultimate purpose did these modifications serve? Maya could not help but feel a certain professional frustration at the lack of available data. Without access to primary Yautja technology for direct analysis, much of her work relied on extrapolation and educated conjecture, which, while intellectually stimulating, fell far short of her desire for empirical certainty.

Her thoughts inevitably circled back to the moon-sized lattice-sphere that had contained the dimensional vortex. While the structure's sheer scale was staggering, it was the Yautja's apparent affinity for such constructs that intrigued her most. A distinct pattern was emerging. This preoccupation with manipulating vast spatial constructs suggested an advanced comprehension of multidimensional mechanics, a field where even the Federation's knowledge remained incomplete. The lattice-sphere stood as the most striking example of their fascination with large-scale spatial manipulation. What was the origin of such technology? Was it native to the Yautja themselves, or had it been acquired and adapted from some other advanced civilization? Given their evident tendency to incorporate and modify the technology of others, either possibility remained viable. The absence of concrete answers was both maddening and exhilarating in equal measure.

Even the Romulan bio-weapon, ostensibly a separate matter, was not immune to Yautja influence. The modifications applied to it were undeniably of Yautja origin, though the purpose behind those alterations remained maddeningly elusive. Were the Yautja simply experimenting out of scientific curiosity? Or was there a more calculated objective at play? Given the ongoing hostilities between the Yautja and the Lokustaar, it was entirely plausible that these modifications served some tactical or strategic aim. Yet, without further evidence, any conclusions would remain purely speculative.

Maya sighed softly, her fingers idly dancing across the interface of her console as she recorded yet another series of hypotheses for later investigation. The ship would soon reach the USS NILE, and the transfer of the rescued Terrans would mark the end of this particular chapter. For many aboard the ANUBIS, it would be an opportunity to reset, to step back from the fray and find a measure of calm.

For Maya, it would simply mean more questions. And she would not have it any other way.

---

Jessica Solarik

Lieutenant Commander Maya

Chief Science Officer

USS ANUBIS

- William Blake (British, 1757-1827)