‘Captain’s Log: Stardate 79677.3

Today marks two full weeks since the outbreak of the virus aboard Fairfax. Phasing-Rhesus-Hemorrhagic-Feaver or PRHF-02 is the name Doctor Harper has officially designated this disease, though most of the crew have taken to calling it the Azurak virus; apparently, suspecting them of being the carriers of this disease. Despite the lack of evidence to the contrary.

We know now that the virus is only viable on human or human-hybrid DNA, but the results from Sovek’s blood work last week showed that all species can become carriers, but be asymptomatic.

I was really hoping to talk about some good news about now… but unfortunately, the infection persists, and our death toll stands currently at eighteen. With about two dozen more crew confined to isolation on Deck Six.’

Day-to-day life aboard the U.S.S. Fairfax was now so unrecognisable, it could pass for a plot for a horror novel. The corridors were all but deserted, with crew confined to quarters during off-hours and only permitted to work in small groups or ‘bubbles’ to reduce the spread of infection.

Outside every key area, Medical staff wearing protective HAZMAT suits formed checkpoints where crew were now routinely screened for PRHF. Queues of anxious officers and crew stretched along every deck, all now required to wear protective gloves and facemasks as a further control measure.

Paranoia and suspicion were festering around every corner, as every cough and sneeze was treated with the same avoidance as a ticking bomb. Even with the control measures in place, occasionally a crew member would test positive and break down in tears as he or she was beamed away to the isolation ward. For many close friends and loved ones, they did not know if the terror that they witnessed in their eyes as the transporter beam engaged would be the last thing they would ever see of their colleague.

An additional knock-on effect was a severe reduction in workplace efficiency. With everyone trying to maintain a separation of 6ft or more from their nearest neighbour, working as a team had become a real challenge. Systems were beginning to shut down and malfunction due to a lack of maintenance, and whole decks had been stuck on emergency lighting for days. Some areas of the ship were uninhabitable due to life support failures. Replicators failed just two days ago, and everyone was already beginning to feel the strain of emergency rations on their digestion.

What was once a beacon of utopia and a shining example of the Federation, had descended into a chilling and dystopian glimpse into the horrors of authoritarianism.

Outside Main Engineering, T’lira was at the head of the queue for her checkpoint. It was 0700 hours, and she could see through the doors to the engine room that the night shift was fatigued and desperate for relief. She knew they were not looking forward to their own checkpoints on the way back to their quarters.
A medic wearing HAZMAT beckoned her over to be scanned. As she stood on the marked spot, two technicians began spraying her with a cloud of aerosolised disinfectant before she received her scan. Another approached her with a heavily modified tri-corder and began waving a wand-shaped probe around her body.

Two chirps signalled a clean scan, three low bass notes, and you were off to isolation. T’lira held her eyes firmly shut and held her breath as she waited, terrified for the result.

Two chirps.

She was urged to move on and felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Her antennae relaxed, having been stood rigidly erect for the last minute or two.

As she took a few steps forward and made her way into engineering, the sound of three low bass chirps made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her antennae shot back up as she turned to see one of her best engineers standing crying.

“Wait! She’s Bajoran!” T’lira screamed, now being restrained by two of the HAZMAT’s

“My mother was human… it never came up, so I never mentioned it!” the young woman whimpered, tears flowing down her face as she sobbed.

Moments later, the Transporter beam initialised and the young woman faded away, perhaps never to be seen again. Such was the horror that T’lira had just witnessed, she couldn’t hold back her own emotions as she saw the lead HAZMAT go right back to calling for the next person to step forward.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” She screamed, her control crumbled, and the rage of her Andorian half boiled over as she shoved one of the HAZMAT’s out of the way.
Storming towards the leader, she lost her grip on her emotions completely, and with tears in her eyes, she shoved him too.

“How do you expect me to keep things running around here, when you keep abducting my staff!” she shrieked.

“I’m just doing my job, Lieutenant!” he replied, stunned at the sudden assault.

“Oh yeah! Well, it’s my job to keep the lights on and the air flowing around here, so at least show a little compassion!”

The lead HAZMAT could see his two colleagues rushing to take hold of the Lieutenant Commander. He immediately raised his hand to stand them down.

“Commander! I go back to my quarters every night and cry myself to sleep, just the same as everyone else…. I have nightmares about the officers that I send away, and I remember all their names….When this is all over, the first thing I’m going to do is read them all out one more time, and pray to the prophets for their pagh!” the HAZMAT said.

In her rage, T’lira never noticed the ridges on the lead HAZMAT’s nose through the visor. He was Bajoran, just like her engineer. Her anger subsided immediately, and she felt embarrassed and ashamed.

“Im sorry—” she said, but was interrupted.

“No apologies, I understand how this looks. But believe me, we all want to see it end,” the Bajoran HAZMAT said humbly before returning to work.

T’lira stepped away, holding herself for comfort. The virus was taking more than lives; it was sapping the very spirit of the crew and every drop of humanity from the ship.

Deck 1 – Ready Room

Captain Dubois initiated the conference call from his personal display and mentally prepared himself for the morning meeting. Today was a rare occasion where Sovek and Conrad were dialled into the call, ready to provide an update directly to the team. The only member absent was Lieutenant Sato, who had been isolated several days prior.

“Good morning, everyone. Day 14, let’s go around the room. Doctor, you go first. I’m mindful you’re both busy.” Alex said, looking and feeling exhausted. He was barely managing four hours of sleep a night. The couch in his ready room provided very little support for his back, not commensurate with a good night’s rest.

“We’re starting to run low on Styrolite to place the infected crew into stasis. With replicators down, I can’t synthesise anymore, and some patients are going to start deteriorating. The E.M.H is starting to glitch. I’ve had to take him offline and allow his program to reinitialise… Still can’t believe Starfleet never upgraded to the Mk. Three.” Conrad reported, looking equally exhausted and unshaven.

“Without Styrolite stasis, what’s that going to do to life expectancy?” Alex asked, concerned.

“Without stasis, the virus will start to progress rapidly. I wouldn’t want to give numbers outside of three or four days. We’re trying several out-of-the-box treatments, so far none of them are effective!” said Conrad.

“Any progress on the mechanism of transmission?” Alex asked.

“Captain, the virus appears to be contained by solid matter and subject to conventional laws of physics. It can, however, phase through a relatively short distance of matter approximately twenty to thirty microns thick. Beyond that, the Quantum flux becomes unstable, and the virus appears to experience difficulty in re-phasing.” Sovek explained.

“What sort of difficulty could this be, a weakness we could exploit?” said Alex.

“It would take me several hours to explain the complex principles of quantum mechanics necessary to understand this process, Captain. Suffice it to say, the probability of the virus being shifted further out of phase with our own quantum field increases exponentially with distance. It is not necessarily a weakness we can exploit.” Explained Sovek.

“However, this does mean that the virus is definitely blocked by any solid medium or a level ten forcefield. Looks like the surgical mask idea holds water, Captain, but it won’t be completely effective.” Conrad Weighed in.

“I’ll see what I can do about the replicators, but with systems starting to fail the way they are, and my staff dropping like flies, I’m going to have to take the warp engines offline to do it!” T’lira explained.

“Do what you have to, Commander, the priority is Deck 6’s replicators; all other concerns are secondary. Is that understood?” Alex ordered.

“Yes, sir! I hate to admit it, but Mister Trask is more adept with these systems than me, it might take a minute!” T’lira bowed her head in regret.

“Trask is still critical; he’s not stable enough to put into stasis, but we are doing everything we can…. There’s one other thing, Captain!” Conrad said.

Alex nodded in acknowledgement and waited to hear what his doctor had to say.

“You actually have Trask to thank for this, but we think we’ve identified how the virus replicates while we were monitoring him for viral load.” Said Conrad, a spark of hope in his eyes. “We’re running another test on someone else to confirm, but it looks like the virus doesn’t fall out of phase until it bursts out of infected cells. If that’s true, then the key to defeating it might be while the virus is under replication, inside the cell!”

“Finally, some promising news Doctor!, Let me know the fir—”

“PROXIMITY ALERT, VESSEL APPROACHING”

The voice of the computer echoed across the intercom, cutting Alex off mid-sentence.

“Bridge positions!” Alex ordered, instructing Wallace and K’vagh to return to Deck 1 immediately.

Alex leapt up from his seat and approached his ready room door, pausing briefly to tie the knot for his surgical mask around the back of his head.

“Computer, Report!” Alex ordered, desperately awaiting the arrival of his first officer and K’vagh. The bridge was deserted, and had been for days. With too many crew members falling ill, Alex had decided it was best for him to man the bridge alone unless there was a crisis.

“AN UNKNOWN VESSEL IS APPROACHING, BEARING 314, MARK 075: IDENTITY UNKNOWN: RANGE 19,000 KILOMETERS AND CLOSING”

“Yellow Alert! Shields up!” commanded Alex.

“SYSTEM ERROR, UNABLE TO PERFORM LAST REQUEST THROUGH VOICE COMMAND, MANUAL INTERVENTION REQUIRED”

Alex rushed over to the tactical console, initiated Yellow alert and tried to initiate the shield energisation sequence. “Computer, why won’t the shield array energise!”

“THE PRIMARY SUBSPACE FIELD AMPLIFIER IS OFFLINE”

“Switch to backup!”

“UNABLE TO COMPLY, THE O.D.N RELAY BETWEEN THOSE SYSTEMS IS CURRENTLY INOPERATIVE”

Alex slammed his fist down on the tactical console, precisely as the Turbolift doors opened on both sides of the room, revealing Wallace and K’vagh, who briskly entered the room.

“Number one, shields won’t respond. The O.D.N relay for the backup field amplifier has gone down!” Alex explained with an air of urgency in his voice.

“I’ll see if I can bypass,” Wallace said, rushing to the Engineering console.

As K’vagh took over at Tactical, Alex rushed to the front of the bridge and logged into the Helm. “Mr K’vagh, see if you can identify the incoming ship!”

“Aye, sir, scanning,” Kvagh punched the tactical analysis key on his display, comparing a number of sensor readings such as hull composition and vessel emissions to their database. He was able to find an exact match in a few seconds. “Sensors indicate the approaching vessel is Nausicaan… They are charging weapons!”

Alex began entering a flight trajectory away from the approaching vessel and commanded the helm to engage at full Impulse.

“Red Alert!, All hands, Battle Stations!” Alex ordered.

As the lighting lowered and the alert claxon sounded, he reached over to the communication tab and dispatched a general distress call. He hoped their colleagues in the flotilla nearby would pick it up soon, but he also knew they were at least two hours away.

The bridge shook violently as the opening volley of disruptor fire slammed into Fairfax’s stern. There was nothing to do but run.

TO BE CONTINUED