The med bay had erupted into chaos.

When the lights had plunged out, Runt didn’t even hesitate to fend off his attacker; biting down on Vaadwuar fingers was shockingly easy when given the chance. Phasers had been blasted, screams had been had, and people had run. But Runt? Runt had simply pounced on top of the man holding them and started tearing into his face with their claws.

Velau had grabbed one of the trays and started using it as an impromptu weapon. Her arm had been patched up beforehand, and she was not going down without any form of fight. Between her unbreakable will to live, and genuine spite that lasts a lifetime, it was hard to take her down.

Sylvester was simply using his bare hands to grab and slam the invader into the ground. The three fought, and fought, until each Vaadwaur they were up against had been taken out. But by the time each were done, everyone else. . . .had vanished. It was now only the Lt. Commander, and two ensigns, left inside the medbay.

“Huff…are you two–” Velau heaved, dropping the bent, blood soaked metal platter onto the ground. “–okay?”

“They taste disgusting.” Runt heaved, actively trying to vomit up any chunks of Vaadwaur he may of accidentally consumed. Sylvester let out a chuckle as he wiped his hands.

“Well…okay enough. But we’re not out of the thick of it yet.” He glanced around. “They’re going to be sending more troops, and we need to act fast. You both have recovered from your injuries, right?”

“Uh.” Runt called from the darkness. “I mean. I guess? Er…yeah. Yes, sir.”

“I’m okay. Or, my arm is.” Velau pinched the bridge of her nose. “Great. Just great! Of course our ship would be the subject of a hijacking. Why would it not be? Whatever. What’s the plan, Lieutenant Mikhailov?” Velau asked as Runt groomed his fur next to her, making an audible ‘blegh’ as he did so.

“We have to hole up somewhere. Most preferably Engineering.” Sylvester started to type at one of the monitors, eyes narrowing. His and Runt’s eyes were very noticeable in the light. “I’m assuming they’ve shut the blast doors, but. . .”

“That’s a great idea by me.” Velau crossed her arms, a furrow in her brow. Sure, she trusted her fellow crewmates, but this was still quite a lot. There was barely anything any of them could do; being powerless was one of the worst feelings. And that’s exactly how the other two felt, as well.

“Uh.” Runt spoke up. “We’ll need weapons, will we not? More than just your rifle?” Runt pointed in the dark. Him and Sylvester could see moderately better.

“Hrm.” Sylvester glanced around. “Well, we can make a pit stop, but-”

“Uh. Sir. Permission to use a..possibly not fully approved side project I’ve had for a few years that toootally isn’t..potentially not stable.” Runt blurted out all at once, giving a very uneasy smile. Velau slow turned with a face full of so much worry Sylvester had to physically stop himself from laughing.

“…Elaborate, Ensign.”

“Uh-” Runt reached into his coat pocket, hands still a little shaky from the encounter with the Vaadwaur (he did not want to know if the man was still breathing, thank you), and pulled out what looked to be. . .a handle. Matte black, good grip, and even clearly built for Caitian hands in mind. A trigger laid tucked away.

“That’s it?” He asked. Velau, still in the dark figuratively and actually, tried to make out the shape from the nearby monitors and red alert flashing. “It’s a handle, Ensi–”

Very suddenly, a red shape emitted from the handle. It took a few seconds to fully form, with a red hue surrounding the device.

“OH!” Velau nearly jumped. She, nor Sylvester, we’re expecting that. The shape finally solidified, with a sharp looking blade being the form it had taken. The design looked tactical–tactical and highly dangerous.

“Is that…plasma?” Velau narrowed her eyes, and then widened them. “Hrelle, did you make this??”

“Er.” Runt gave a sheepish smile. “Over the course of ten years, yesss..?”

“Ensign, while I’m glad we have something, it doesn’t exactly shoot. Unless that trigger is for something?” Sylvester crossed his arms once again.

“It is! Uhm–” Runt turned to one of the cabinets in the room. “Permission to fire..?”

“Permission granted.”

In an instant, Runt pulled the trigger on the device; causing an almost hollering sound to emit from the blade. Almost like it was powering up, a sheen ran across the knife and then shot out of the tip; a burst of energy bolting forward. It slammed into the cabinet, knocking it over, as the blade kept its shape. Velau’s eyes were wide and so was her smile as she turned to Runt.

“Please tell me you have a spare.”

“I do! Uh. Yellow, hope you don’t mind.” He pulled out the other handle, handing it to Velau. “I call it a plasma knife.”

“..That’s very original, Runt. Good job.” Sylvester rolled his eyes, before cocking his rifle. “I permit the use of that weapon. Be careful. If it’s pure plasma, I don’t want it hitting one of our own.”

“Ah, I’m glad we have some form of light besides the scary ones, haha! Uh.” Runt tensed up at a specific thought. “I..hate being in dark spaces. Cramped ones, too. It’s pretty awful…anyways, out the door, right?”

Sylvester and Velau stopped dead in their tracks; frozen in the process of getting ready to crawl into a nearby Jefferies tube. Runt turned, smile instantly dropping. Sylvester slowly walked forward.

“Runt. . .this is the safest option. Come on.”

“..Absolutely not. There is no way in any fresh Caitian hell that I am going inside that tube! I’ll take my chances outside, thank you. You’d have to drag my by my dead bod-”

–

To make a long story short (and a few scratches later), Runt was very unhappily and shakily climbing through the tube, with Sylvester behind him. He mumbled under his breath as the trio crawled through, slowly reaching their destination. Sylvester cleared his throat.

“Okay. Runt, shush.” And he did. “I don’t know who we’re going to be up against, but I want to suggest non-lethal approaches. Even if. . .intense.” He furrowed his brow. “I don’t want us to have any weight on our shoulders from what we do, but. . .well. If it’s us or them, I choose us.”

“Hear hear.” Velau whispered, as she started to work on the vent. Runt was in full defensive mode, still uneasy from the situation. “Ready, Commander.”

“Open.” He whispered. Velau let the cover for the tube slide open as she stuck her head out; a longways down the hall was the turbolift. Red alert flashed across the hallway as it was draped in red. Velau cursed under her breath–they had been a few feet off from the intended destination. “What do you see?”

“We’re a few feet off. We can run or go back.” She responded. Sylvester was about to answer, but the sudden yelling down the tube and call for reinforcements quickly altered their choice.

“Forward–forWARD!” Sylvester urged as the three scrambled out of the tube, hastily making a break for the hallway. Heavy footsteps started to become more and more audible as the group ran. Only a few more feet to the turbolift. . . .

A very bulky, very hefty Vaadwaur came out from one of the doorways, smiling wide. She looked terrifying. A set of hulking armor that had the symbol of the Vaadwaur on it–all fully brown and black, with a rifle in hand. She smiled down at the group.

“Well, well well.” The lady stomped forward, cracking her knuckles. “Two cats and a Trill, eh? Must be Muries lucky day, eh?”

“Step aside. Please. We don’t want any trouble.” Sylvester gripped his rifle. Murie must’ve been only a few inches taller than the Lt. Commander, but she was still threatening.

“UGH, it’s always the same with you starfleeters! No, we will not accept peace, no, I’m not going to give any mercy.” As she talked, the footsteps got closer. Runt was noticably freaking out…and sadly, so did Murie. “Awh, kitty nervous?”

“Hrelle…” Sylvester warned, side-eyeing him as Murie walked closer.

“What, does he not like strangers?” She snickered. “Such a cute house cat!”

“Is every person part of Yuven’s ship like this?” Velau whispered to Sylvester. He just shrugged.

“Seems like you’re the big cat here,” She glanced to Sylvester. “Damn shame we gotta enslave and kill you, I quite enjoy the-”

“MrreeeOWWW!”

“OhholyshiOW! OW! WHAT THE HELL?!”

Runt had suddenly yeowled, slashing forward with his claws and getting Murie right in the eye. She let out a scream and stumbled backwards as the group made a mad dash forward for the tubrolift. The group of men behind instantly started shooting at the doors, but the fast acting closing mechanics was saving them.

The last thing the group saw as the doors closed was the enraged and furious look of the Vaadwuar woman as she stared them down–now having half an eye, and blood pooling down the side of her face. Then?

Darkness. Darkness, and a very, very awkward turbolift ride.