The lighting all over the Vallejo dimmed again, as power continually cycled down and back up.

Down in sickbay, Jorath’s vitals continued to spike, monitors wailing warnings in harsh, repetitive patterns.

Counselor Marin stood by helplessly, administering another dose of neural stabilizer to his suffering friend. It would bring some small comfort, hopefully.

From Jorath’s lips came a small, broken whisper, “It’s feeding… growing. It was sealed, but now it tastes again.”

He sat up in an alarming jolt, sweat beading on his pale skin, bright green eyes wide and unfocused.

“It’s not here,” he gasped, “but it feels us, it’s coming.”

_____________________________________

Geral Loran could feel the ship breathing around him.

The corridors of the Vaadwaur Scout Ship pulsed, not visibly, but he could feel it in the air pressure all around them. The air rose and fell in a rhythm just beneath the damaged bulkheads and burned conduits. His every burning breath tasted of copper and coolants. He stopped checking the atmospheric readings on his tricorder; either all their equipment was broken, or this ship defied all laws of science. He didn’t need the scan readouts to tell him what he instinctively knew already… this place was wrong.

The team staggered through the ruined corridors lit only by the flashing red emergency lights and their palm beacons. Bjornsen was barely conscious now, his eyes glazed over, muttering fragments of whatever nightmare was playing out in his head.

Torel wasn’t much better. While she was still moving under her own power, she was fully in the throes of a manic episode, alternating between tears and anger at unseen terrors. At one point, Loran heard her use a string of Andorian profanity he could barely believe came out of the usual caring and compassionate young nurse.

They all could feel there was someone, or something, behind them. Chasing them… herding them. Loran was struggling to remain focused; luckily, Amir pushed them forward, supporting Bjornson’s other arm over his stocky shoulder.

Eventually, they made it to the aft hanger bay. The entire ship looked twisted… warped. The walls seemed angled wrong; the geometry subtly incorrect. Loran felt dizzy and nauseous just looking at it. Up ahead, there was what appeared to be a small shuttle. It didn’t look damaged, so the team hurried to inspect the vessel closely.

It was a squat, angular craft, nestled in the corner of the twisting hanger bay, its hull half covered in grime and a black residue that shimmered like oil. No scorch marks, no visible structural damage. It might fly.

Loran was the first to reach it, tapping the access panel beside the hatch. For a breathless second, nothing happened. Then a groan of hydraulics as the hatch slid open, releasing a hiss of stale air that smelled of ozone and mold.

“In. Now!” he barked, motioning the team forward.

Amir lowered Bjornsen into a small seat and ran to the front of the small vessel, tapping some controls on a console. Torel collapsed next to Bjornsen, arms tight around her knees, sobbing.

The interior lights flickered on, a sickly green glow that pulsed slightly.

“Minimal power,” Amir muttered. “Looks like thrusters are online. No nav system, but it has inertial dampeners.”

“I’ll take it over whatever the chuulak behind us is,” Loran replied grimly, sliding into the co-pilot’s chair. “Engaging launch sequence.”

The bay doors creaked, one opened fully while the other groaned in protest, jamming halfway.

Something banged into the small vessel from behind with a crash, pushing them forward and to port. The dim green lights went out, leaving the team in darkness. There was a tapping… no, a scratching at the hatch.

With a flicker, the controls powered back up as Torel screamed, hands covering her ears.

“We’ll fit,” Amir said, flicking switches on the main control console, diverting power to the thrusters. “Barely.”

With a screeching shudder, the shuttle staggered off the hanger bay deck and surged forward, smashing clear of the twisted hanger bay door with less than two meters to spare. Amir pulled the nose up and brought the small vessel about, adjusting their heading towards the sight of the Vallejo in high orbit ahead.

For a moment, the team felt relief, they could see their ship… safety just ahead. They just had to get back.

Then the ship went black again, lurching violently in darkness.

Something slammed into the shuttle again, twisting and flipping them. A shrill alarm sounded, then the viewscreen powered back up, displaying a violent purple-red sky ahead.

“What the hell is that?!” Amir screamed.

There was a dark shape ahead, shimmering in the purple and red surrounding them. Lightning danced through it, but not like any storm.

“No control,” Loran snapped. “Atmosphere’s pulling us down… something is pulling us down!”

The shuttle hit the atmosphere like a stone on flint. Flames streaked through the small viewports on the sides of the vessel. Structural braces groaned. With a shudder, the craft slammed through the cloud cover in a chaotic descent.

It was loud… Metal screaming, hearts pounding, alarms shrieking in tones that blended into one cacophony of bedlam.

Just beneath it all was something worse.

Soft, distant, but from within the cabin.

Laughter.

_____________________________________

“Captain,” Kellan said, fingers dancing across the OPS console. “A vessel just detached from the Vaawaur scout.”

Captain Day looked up at the viewscreen. “Explain.”

“Looks like a small shuttle, launched under its own power… barely. I’m reading three biosigns… maybe four, it’s hard to lock down,” Kellan explained.

Day stood and walked over to stand behind Kellan, arms folded tight. “Can you confirm it’s the away team?”

Kellan hesitated, then nodded. “Reading Orion, Andorian, two humans. Yes, it’s them.”

The viewscreen zoomed in, the shuttle was tumbling as it hit the upper atmosphere, its stabilizers flaring unevenly, leaving streaks of white-hot plasma across its nose.

“Why aren’t they heading towards us?” Rax grumbled from tactical. “They’re dropping fast.”

“Too fast,” Kellan added. “They lost control. Something’s…”

The shuttle jerked mid-descent. Not turbulence, a shift. As if something had grabbed and nudged it.

Kellan’s voice went flat. “Course correction detected.”

“Excuse me?” Day said sharply.

“They didn’t do that… There was no thruster burn. The shuttle just changed heading… deliberately. It’s redirecting… west of the dig site.

The bridge went quiet. Day exhaled softly.

“Get me Commander Mehta, break through the interference!”

Kellan nodded. “On it.”

The shuttle flared one last time as it hit the lower atmosphere… then it vanished into the clouds below.

A heartbeat later, the ship’s lighting dimmed again… just slightly.

But this time it didn’t come back all the way.

_____________________________________

Down on Nerathis IV the away team continued to investigate the research team’s dig site.

The pulse came without warning.

A low, throbbing pressure rolled through the chamber like a thunderstorm. Fine red dust shifted in the air. Dar staggered slightly where she stood, hand reaching out to the cavern wall to steady herself.

“What the hell was that?” Ryan asked, voice tight. His knuckles were white around the grip of his phaser.

Valis stepped slowly around the perimeter of the platform, scanning as she moved. “Localized seismic resonance,” She confirmed. “The epicenter is approximately 4.2 kilometers to the west.”

Mehta’s tricorder emitted a confused stutter and shut itself down.

“Power fluctuations. We’re getting bleed-through interference from something… electromagnetic? Maybe?” he said, already attempting to reboot the unit. “I couldn’t isolate it.”

Dar looked back at the platform. The glyphs were brighter now. Still pulsating, but quicker, faster than her heart pounding in her chest.

“They’re reacting,” she said.

“To the tremor?” Mehta asked.

Dar shook her head slowly. “No, to us. Or… to something new.”

Valis looked up from her scan. “The field around the structure has changed. It is now emitting a low-level psionic frequency… broadband. Weak, but present.”

Ryan turned to Mehta. “Commander… should we get out of here, get back to Renn and the shuttle?”

Mehta let the question hang in the air for a moment, looking at the tunnel entrance. Smoke was starting to drift down into the chamber from above. He didn’t answer immediately.

Dar stared at the pulsing glyphs, almost in a trance.

“It’s not a beacon,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Mehta asked.

She turned to face him, composed but paler than usual.

“You don’t build something this deep underground unless you’re trying to keep it away from something. Not just hidden. Contained.”

Mehta stepped closer to the platform, watching the glyphs flicker faster, as if excited… or anticipating.

“If this was meant to contain something,” he began softly…

Dar continued in a voice barely a whisper, “Maybe someone let it out.”

Behind them, the smoke from above filled the chamber, thick and noxious. It brought with it a weight… a feeling.

They weren’t alone.