[HoaS] Session Eight Log!

[pyrephox]

Rice coughs politely in the direction of still-conscious officers, though not really at any one of them in particular. "Far be it from me to distract important planning, sir, but we might want to grab food at some point. Detube was a while back."

Paravada perches, legs crossed, on one of the empty examination tables. "Two things," she says. "Firstly, I think I may have just discovered a weakness in how the silver threads spread themselves; and secondly, yes. We do need to eat."

Morris grimaces and rubs his stomach. "Not all that hungry, but I sure could use a drink," he says, his voice still low, but a little stronger.

Rice considers the room. "Given that those two might need watching--should I go grab snacks for everyone? The mess hall was secure last I saw, so far as any place around here is. Though I'm not grabbing anything that needs the oven."

Rice goes for food preparation as soon as the group hits the mess hall, both as one of the two most junior crew remaining, and to make /sure/ no one tries to use that oven.

Kuznetsov checks the samovar and begins refilling it.

Paravada does peer into the oven, through the door. Without opening it.
The mess hall is still dimly lit, with the kitchen even darker. The table where the crewman from Ninth Shift was murdered is still overturned, but the blood has been cleaned up. The kitchen area smells...odd. The acrid scent of burnt flesh and metal hanging over the air around the oven. The interior of the oven is blackened and burnt, with heaped, charred shapes scattered over the bottom.

Kuznetsov sighs, and shakes his head, and once the samovar is filled -- a slow process, given that he has to bring a pitcher of water over and make a couple of runs to the sink -- he commences with the process of making tea the very old fashioned way.

Morris gives the tea the same look a starving lion would give a baby gazelle, but makes his way over to the faucets instead, to gulp down some fresh water.
Rice mixes himself a glass of orange powdered drink. The more some things change...

Paravada finds herself some meat cubes. And also a square or two of chocolate.

The mess hall and kitchen are eerily silent as they work, the occassional bubbling of the tea, rush of water, or crackling of a container sounding overly loud and almost blasphemous in the hush. The dim light makes the shadows long and invasive, creating a thousand small dark spaces that seem to hide secrets.

Rice forces down a few cubes on principle, though he makes melodramatic faces to himself as he does so.

Kuznetsov finally slouches in a chair with a teacup, with tea, crackers, and some sort of cubes that he drops into the tea to soak. Doesn't much matter what they are. It'll be chicken-flavored tea shortly, perhaps. "Well, then. Shall we bring this ship's meeting to order? Any old business to discuss before we move on to the new business of the ship being taken over by bizarre creatures beyond our current understanding?"

Paravada laughs, wryly. "No old business here."

Rice shakes his head.

"None here," Morris adds, glancing up at the ceiling. "Except...Kronos, can we get some goddamned /lights/ on in here, please?" The light immediately intensifies, chasing away some of the shadows. "Thanks." "You are quite welcome."

"However," Paravada says, "concerning our new business. I noticed something very interesting while treating Diotrephes and the Captain -- the administration of coagulants seem to impede the spread of the metal threads."

Kuznetsov nods his head, slowly. "That IS interesting. I wonder how it works on the larger threads, the ones that seem to be forming attack weapons?"

Paravada shrugs. "I'd have to test it to see."

Morris adds, "And can we use it to kill those bastards?"

Kuznetsov nods towards Morris. "The very important question, moreso than any of the rest, then, is -- how much of it do we HAVE?"

Rice says "Can it get used as a sort of...antibiotic? Inject enough that it doesn't kill anyone, but enough to slow that stuff if it gets in anyone again."

You paged Paravada with 'You have quite a bit. The ship is stocked with the expectation of serving 500,000 people and crew, after all. The /bad/ news is that most of it is in the bigger medical bay on the Living Deck.'.

"We have," says Paravada, "a great deal. However, most of it is in the larger medbay. The one on Living Deck."

Rice ohs silently.

You paged Paravada with 'You probably have about 10 pounds of the stuff in your medbay. How effective that is depends on how extreme the reaction is.'.

Paravada goes on. "We have about ten pounds of it in the medbay here. I don't know how useful that is -- it depends on how we want to use it and how effective it turns out to be."

Kuznetsov nods his head. "Kronos, excepting the thing in the vents which you can't detect, are there any abnormal life signs between us and the Living Deck?"

Kronos replies, "Negative. I am detecting no life signs of any kind on the Living Deck." There's almost a touch of relief in the computer's voice at this.

Kuznetsov nods. "Well, then. Assuming the maintenance shafts are relatively clear, we can access it, at least." He frowns. "Kronos, what is the thing which is in Mobano's body doing?"

Kronos says, "It appears to be attempting to find a way out of the Engineering Deck. It is failing."

Paravada says "At least it's not incredibly intelligent."

Rice says "We sure of that? I mean, no offense, but it's not like we've beat it yet."

Kuznetsov says "This reassures me greatly, Kronos. Can you tell at all where the thing in the vents is? I believe we may have to send a drone in after it..."

Paravada says "Point."

Kronos sounds regretful, "I am sorry, but no. I have no sensors in the vents, and it has not emerged again since the previous sighting."

Morris chuckles unhappily, and says, "Shame we didn't have something to tag the damned thing with."

Kuznetsov blinks. "We do. Kronos, can you detect Lieutenant Ampte's life signs?"
"Lieutenant Ampte's life signs are flat," Kronos says, promptly.

Paravada looks at Kuznetsov with an expression of admiration.

Kuznetsov nods. "Can you locate his shipsuit?"

Morris winces, and looks down at the floor, his hand clenching around the cup of water. Kronos continues serenely, "Yes. It is approximately 1575 meters from your current position, traveling slowly towards the rear of the vessel."

Anderson sits in a chair to one side, sipping what seems to be a cup of coffee, a small plate with some immediately unidentifiable cubes on it resting in his lap, "Kronos, does this mean that the suit is not in the vents anymore?"

"No, Commander," Kronos says, "But the shipsuits transmit information directly to my data banks. I can track them even to a degree outside the ship."

Anderson nods sagely, taking another sip of coffee, "So in theory, we can contain these things, but we'd have to shut down ventilation to do it, since that's how they seem to be traveling."

Kuznetsov gestures towards one of the screens. "Onscreen, Kronos, map of the ship. Show me where Ampte's shipsuit is, as well as Commander Mobano... and any other anomalous life signs."

One of the mess room screens nearby lights up, showing the schematic of the Hermes. A green light pops up, towards the far end of the Crew Deck, where the supply rooms are. 'Lt. Ampte' shows up in green letters at the top, then Mobano in red in the Engineering Deck, wandering zigzaggily back and forth in the main diagnostics room. Finally, the hideously large masses of bright purple in Cargo Bay 1. The text in purple for this reads only: ??????

Kuznetsov points to Ampte's location. "It seems to be lairing by the supply rooms for some reason... it's where we first encountered it, and now it's returning there. Why?"

Rice offers, hesitantly and unhelpfully, "Supplies?"

Anderson raises an eyebrow, "So what's it eating would be my first question."

Morris adds his support to Rice, "We didn't check all the rooms before we got attacked. It could be getting something out of one of them."

Paravada says "Or what's it building."

Rice folds his arms, rocking back on his heels unhappily. "It doesn't /seem/ like it's eating the bodies, just...using them. It has to get the energy from somewhere. I thought the metal stuff maybe already had a bunch of energy waiting to be used on this stuff. But if it's eating, there's no theoretical limit to what it can do, because it's not a limited energy quantity."

Over the wide cast, Mobano's toneless voice suddenly proclaims, "Amazing grace. How sweet. The sound that saved a. Wretch like. Me. I. Once was lost but. Now I'm found was. Blind but now I see."

"Hmmm," Anderson ponders, "If it's in the supply room, we should be able to seal it in there for the time being at least. I'd rather not have the floor open up and swallow another of us."

Rice looks up at the ceiling unhappily. "Doesn't seem like it had any problem with vision so far," he mutters.

The voice pauses, then continues, "We've. Been there ten thousand. Years. Bright shining. As the sun."

Kuznetsov blinks, and mutters something religious in Japanese as he looks up at the speakers. "It wants to communicate, it seems."

From afar, Kuznetsov subvocs, "Kronos, send Mobano's personnel file to my link."
Kuznetsov pulls out his PML, brow furrowed.

Rice asks, a little testily, "In that case, do we want to talk to it? Sir? I'm not big into giving it what it wants."

You paged Kuznetsov with 'Kronos replies, "Done." And the PML screen lights up with Mobano's picture and personal info.'.

Kuznetsov pages: Is there anything in Mobano's file regarding a particular religious inclination?

Kuznetsov looks at Rice, still frowning. "You can sing, can't you, Mr. Rice?"

You paged Kuznetsov with 'Yes. He's a member of the Pan-African Baptist Church (Second Reformation). A branch of Christianity which is big on personal discipline and strength (it is considered that the body is a temple of the Lord, and should be treated accordingly; many members spend a lot of time on strict diets).'.

Rice pauses, and eyes Kuznetsov nervously. "...yes, I can sing. Why?"

The frown on Kuznetsov's face smoothes into a flat line. "Because you are going to give it what it wants, and see if you can either find something left of Mobano -- it is obviously drawing on his brain for this -- or see if you can't winnow out some clue to what this thing wants so we can stop it."

Rice stares blankly. "You want me to /sing/ to it, sir? Sing it what?"

Rice says "What if it wants people who can sing /better/?"

Mobano intones, "Darker. Night is near. The bridegroom is approaching and. Soon he. Draweth near."

Kuznetsov whispers something Russian, and frowns. Slowly, from an old memory, he begins in Russian, "/Behold the Bridegroom, hark the cry...?/" He looks at Rice, and shrugs. "Mobano was a devout Pan-African Baptist. Perhaps hymns are all his brain can hold right now."

Kronos adds quietly, "He is banging on the door leading from the Engineering Deck. He is in no danger of escaping, at present."

Rice nods, reluctantly. "If you want me to sing to it, I'll sing, sir. I know a few hymns."

Kuznetsov nods his head, approvingly. "Excellent, Mister Rice. Kronos, I want a channel opened specifically between Mister Rice and Commander Mobano's commlink, so the two can... experiment in communication. Maybe we can find something."

Morris smiles thinly. "Bet you didn't think this was going to be your big break, Rice..."

Rice glares at the ceiling. "I'd hoped for a more appreciate audience," he says, and then takes a deep breath. "We rest on thee, our shield and our defender. We go not forth alone against the foe. Strong in thy faith, safe in thy keeping tender, we rest on thee, and in thy name, we go. Strong in thy faith, safe in thy keeping tender, we rest on thee, and in thy name we go."

Kuznetsov remarks, as he pushes himself to his feet, "First performance to a non-terrestrial intelligence, at least, Mister Rice. I am CERTAIN this cannot help but look good in your file." He looks to Morris. "Mr. Morris, I need your arms."

Morris jumps up, setting his cup aside. "Yessir."

Over the comm, silence reigns for a long moment, then Mobano returns, "Come. Not in terrors as. The King of Kings. But kind. And good with. Healing in thy. Wings."

Kuznetsov moves out to the hallway, with Morris in tow.

Morris follows willingly enough, although he looks over his shoulder at Rice before stepping out into the hall, then turns back to his superior and raises an eyebrow inquisitively.

Rice gulps, then continues. "We go in faith, our own great weakness feeling. and needing more each day thy grace to know. When passing through the gates of pearly splendour, victors, we rest with thee through endless days. When passing through the gates of pearly splendour, victors, we rest with thee through endless days.

Rice blinks, and adds to himself sotto voice, "I think I mixed two verses. Oh well."

There's another pause as whatever's in Mobano listens, then replies, "Angels! Roll the rock away! Death! Yield up your mighty prey!"

Paravada murmurs to Kuznetsov, "It communicates. But -- not entirely in any useful way, as of yet."

Kuznetsov points at the drone equipped with a flamer. "We need to get that down into the hole, to chase the Thing through the vent shafts."

Rice responds, gamely. "A might fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing. Our helper he amidst the flood of mortal ills prevailing. For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe. His wrath and power are great, and armed with cruel hate, on Earth is not his equal."

Morris looks at the thing without enthusiasm. "Yessir." He creeps towards the hole, looking down into it. "Uh, Kronos? You'll tell us if that thing is coming this way, right?" Kronos replies, "I will inform you should the signal from Lt. Ampte's shipsuit begin to approach your position."

Kuznetsov nods. "Kronos, reduce gravity to .25G around this area of the deck, so that we can lower the drone into the vent without setting off that flamethrower." He nods. "Turn its camera on, and begin a feed; probably to one of the screens in Medbay, once we all return there..."

The silence lasts longer this time, and when the thing inside Mobano responds, there seems to be an extra emphasis in its words, "All men living are. But mortal. Yea, all flesh must. Fade as grass. Only. Through death's gloomy portal. To eternal life. We pass."

Rice sings, with a bit more enthusiasm. "And though this world with devils filled should threaten to undo us, we will not fear, for God has willed his truth to triumph through us. The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him. His rage we shall endure, for lo, his doom is sure. One little word shall fell him."

The voice responds with obvious, grating anger, the sudden abandonment of the subvocal equipment obvious, "The rising God forsakes his tomb! The tomb in vain forbids his rise!"

Paravada blinks at /that/.

"Mobano appears to be returning to the armory," Kronos observes, quietly.

Rice begins, "Blessed be the tie that binds--" Then breaks off abruptly, shaking his head. "Oh, /hell/ no, not that one." He chews his lip for a moment, considering responses.

Rice comments, a little too brightly, "Too many hymns are all...bloody." He coughs. "Oh God, our hope in ages past, our hope for years to come, protect us from the stormy blast, be our eternal home. Beneath the shadow of thy home thy saints have dwelt secure. Sufficient is thy arm alone, and our defense is sure."
Kuznetsov glances towards his left side at Rice's song with a small chuckle as he and Morris are manhandling the drone down into the hole.

Mobano sings back in a raspy voice filled with promise, "And thou, most kind and gentle death. Waiting. To hush our last breath. O praise him, Alleluya."

Morris grunts with effort as the drone shudders and moves forward, creeping towards the hole, then angling down into it.

Rice glares at the ceiling. "Sometimes a light surprises the person while he sings. It is the lord who rises, with healing on his wings. When comforts are declining, he grants the soul again a season of clear shining, to cheer it after rain."

Mobano sings back, almost smug sounding, "The pains, the groans, the dying strife, Fright our approaching souls away; Still we shrink back again to life, Fond of our prison and our clay."

The drone clangs, a deep and hollow sound, as it slides into the hole and comes to rest on the bottom.

Kuznetsov nods his head, and claps Morris on the shoulder before pulling out his PML. "Vidfeed of the camera and control interface to my PML, Kronos." He begins heading back towards the mess hall.

"Done, Scott," Kronos replies promptly.

Rice chews on his lip. "Rise from your grav--wait, no. Hmm. Swing low--no, not /that/ one." He takes another quick breath. "Fierce was the storm of wind, the surging waves ran high. Failed the disciples' hearts with fear, though their lord was night. But at the stern rebuke of thy almighty word, the wind was hushed, the billows ceased, and owned thee god thy lord."

There doesn't look like there's going to be a response to this one. The silence stretches for one minute, then two, then three, before Mobano's voice returns. "In hope of that immortal crown I now the cross sustain, And gladly wander up and down, And smile at toil and pain..."

Rice nods slowly to the ceiling. "Right," he says. "Okay. This is my father's world, and to my listening ears, all nature sings, around me rings the music of the spheres. This is my father's world, he shines in all that's fair. In the rustling grass I hear him pass, he speaks to me everywhere. This is my father's world, o let me ne'er forget, that though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet. This is my father's world. Why should my heart be sad? The lord is king, let the heavens ring! God reigns, let the earth be glad."

Mobano's reply is low, sullen. "Angels in bright rainment rolled the stone away."

Rice hmms. "You are my strength when I am weak, you are the treasure that I seek, you are my all in all. Seeking you as a precious jewel, Lord, to give up I'd be a fool. You are my all in all. When I fall down you pick me up, when I am dry you fill my cup, you are my all in all." He bites his lip, and waits for a response, not looking entirely confident in his choice.

There's a sudden upswing in Mobano's reply, triumphant. "Victorious! Victorious! Christ has arisen glorious; On His brow the conquerors wreath, In His hand the keys of death." Then the comm goes dead.

Rice looks around for someone to pass responsibility off to. "Did I do something wrong?"

Morris frowns. "You might have just promised to marry him...it...for all I know."

Kuznetsov frowns deeply. "Kronos, on screen" -- he points to a blank screen -- "The camera pointing at the armory doors. Is Mobano inside the armory?"

Paravada grimaces slightly. "I think you did. Actually. If by 'marriage' you mean 'joining with the collective parasite.'"

Rice folds his arms. "Well, I was trying my best. Hymns aren't exactly my area of expertise, when it comes to singing." He mutters, more quietly, "Still think it's better than 'When the Saints Come Marching In'. I don't want to be one of their number."

The requested image brightens the screen, showing Mobano on the outside of the armory, some sort of device held in one hand. It appears to be clumsily squeezing out some sort of clear paste around the sealed seams of the door. "He is not currently in the armory," Kronos replies."

Kuznetsov slams his hand down on the table. "Kronos," he snaps urgently, "Kill gravity on the Engineering deck outside the armory. Evacuate it to vacuum. Trigger the fire-suppressant foam."

Kronos kills the gravity immediately, and a fire suppressant foam begins to fill the chamber, obscuring the camera view. Mobano's arms flail unhappily as Kronos asks, worried, "In order to evacuate to vacuum, I must open the ventilation ducts. Is that acceptable?"

Kuznetsov bites his lip, and then nods. "Open the ducts. Seal them immediately after the deck returns to vacuum.

"Affirmative," Kronos says, and the currents of foam immediately change on the screen as the air begins to be sucked out. Fast...faster than previous observation would suggest that the thing could move, Mobano's body twists, and it pushes off the armory door to launch itself at one of the ducts, gun still clenched in one hand.

Kuznetsov nods his head. "That's it, come away from the armory..."

Mobano reaches a duct, and begins to wiggle through with an eerie, boneless grace, but for his cybernetic limbs.

Kuznetsov snaps, "Kronos, NOW -- seal the ducts."

The duct in view starts to iris closed, as Mobano's twisting suddenly becomes frantic and maddened. The metal meets his flesh, and blood stains the edge, running down in bright, living streams as it yanks its body forward, desperately, as the edges bite in further, peeling away flesh and biting into its hipbones. Another frantic twitch on Mobano's part and most of its body is through, although it's leaving hacked gobbets of flesh floating in the lack of gravity, and the iris is still closing on its thighs....sceeeeeeeeee the whining of the engine can faintly, faintly be heard through the audio senses, along with the meaty sound of sharp metal through hot muscle and bone. And then Mobano's legs are floating free, away from the vent, about three inches of bleeding flesh over the cybernetic replacements.

Rice bolts for the door.

Kuznetsov turns towards Rice, "What -- stop him!" And he's up and giving chase, bellowing angry things in Japanese.

Paravada runs after Rice -- and Kuznetsov, since she's still hampered by what the very /first/ thing did to her foot.

Morris, who was watching the video with queasy fascination, jumps up at Kuznetsov's offer, and launches himself after Rice, yelling the Ensign's name.

Rice runs, with all the panicked speed of a very panicked ensign who used to spend a lot of time in school escaping the older kids. Out the door! Into the hallway! Towards freedom! ...right into the massive hole in the floor, which apparently completely bypassed his notice while he was busy paying attention to the running fast issue. There's a brief yelp as he skids along the blood remaining around the rim of the hole, and a more pained yelp as he hits the ground inside.

Rice sits at the bottom of the hole, feeling very sheepish. "...could someone lend me a hand?" he asks, plaintively.

Paravada leans down to offer Rice a hand.

Morris comes to a screeching, panting halt at the edge of the hole, and also offers a hand down. "Man...Rice...you gotta learn to panic /slower/..."

Kuznetsov follows along quietly behind the pair, and shakes his head, sighing.

Rice staggers to his feet, and offers both hands up. "Sorry," he says, face red. "Sorry. I--yeah. Panicked."

Morris grabs the offered hand, and hauls Rice back up to the deck. Rice's leg is trickling a steady stream of blood. A couple of drops hit the edge of the hole, and immediately, pinkish-silver fibers begin to form near his feet.

Rice skitters back. "Okay, could we get, I don't know, squirt guns of the coagulant stuff or something? That's creepy."

Kuznetsov stares at the fibers. "Not good. Doctor?"

The fibers band together into a thumbnail sized blob, and start sending out questing tendrils over the edge, searching for more blood.

Paravada stares at the fibers. "That's ... incredibly disturbing. Are the walls ... /made/ of it, now?"

Rice wipes his feet quickly. "Ew. Ew. Ew."

Kuznetsov shakes his head. "The thing in the vents 'bled' it onto here. Perhaps we can test out more of that coagulant on it. Ensign, accompany the Doctor..." He himself takes a step back, watching it.

Morris is definitely in the group stepping back, and he eyes Rice's feet with deep suspicion.

Paravada nods, and heads toward the medbay to get another tube of coagulant.

Rice follows the doctor. Wants to be in medbay anyway, if there's a chance of infection.


Morris skitters after Paravada and Rice.

Paravada waves Rice into the Handy Full-Body Parasite Detection Scanner, while digging up several tubes of coagulant.

Rice steps right back into the scanner.

Kuznetsov leans against a wall some distance from the little blob, and watches it warily.

Paravada scans Rice.

The scanner hums in a friendly and reassuring manner, revealing no infection. The blob outside quests along the edge, looking for other drops of blood. It finds one, and swells slightly, its movements becoming a bit more purposeful.

Kuznetsov kneels down and watches it, grimly.

Paravada gestures Rice /out/ of the scanner, and onto a free bed, so she can treat his leg.

Rice follows instructions dutifully.

The blob stretches upwards, twisting its 'body' through the air, and gradually orienting towards the kneeling Kuznetsov. It starts inching along the edge of the hole, towards him.

Paravada finishes the bandaging, and smiles at Rice. "Entirely normal injury. Nothing to worry about."


Anderson stands with Kuznetsov, watching the little blob move from blood spot to blood spot, but keeping his distance.

Kuznetsov shuffles back towards Anderson.

Rice smiles back, uneasily. "Do you know if--what it was doing, when we--when he--was it trying to get through that door because I pissed it off?"

Morris gives his gruff opinion, "Don't be dumb. That thing took over Mobano and wrecked his /brain/. It wasn't going to do anything other than eat us, anyway."

Paravada shakes her head. "I think it wanted to get through the door anyway. You just distracted it for a little while." She pauses. "I think, speaking as the medical officer for your shift, that you should rest here for a little while."

Rice looks reassured at this. "Can't really carry a tune, either," he jokes weakly.

Rice nods quickly to Paravada. "Yes, sir. Just, um, don't leave me in here alone? If that's possible?"

The little blob that could continues to make its way around the edge, orienting towards Kuznetsov and Anderson all the while. However, as it goes, the pink seems to fade from its body, becoming more silver, and the blob starts to shrink, moving more slowly.

Paravada looks to Morris. "If you would stay? I have to bring Kuznetsov the coagulant."

"I'll stay," Morris offers immediately.

Rice does not count the Captain et al /company/, under the circumstances.

Anderson raises an eyebrow quizzically, "Interesting. It seems to need blood, or something in it to grow. Or perhaps it's not a need but it has found something in us that it seems to like."

The blob huddles, stopping its motion.

Kuznetsov nods. "Kronos, you are getting this on camera, yes?" He is watching intently.

Paravada returns from medbay, bearing coagulant.

Kronos sounds almost offended, "I record everything that passes by my sensors."

The blob quivers again as Paravada approaches, bulging out again to orient towards her. It makes a few, hesitant motions in that direction.

Kuznetsov stops, and frowns. "Of course you do." The frown deepens. "Kronos... check your archives and tell me, when was the very first anomalous life sign reading noted in Cargo Bay 1?"

Kronos considers. "Approximately 30 hours ago, around 7:00 Ship Standard Time."

Kuznetsov nods. "What time was Ensign Briggs killed?"

"13:45 Ship Standard Time, almost seven hours later." Kronos replies.

Kuznetsov nods. "And when did Ensign Briggs murder Lieutenant Commander Morgan?"

“9:25 Ship Standard Time, two hours after the first anomalous signs in Cargo Bay 1, and about four hours before his own death.” Kronos replies again.

Kuznetsov nods his head. "And at what time were the first errant health signs noted in Commander Morgan?"

Anderson listens quietly to Kuznetsov's line of questioning, still keeping an eye on the now silvery blob.

Kronos says, "Checking shipsuit logs...34 hours, 10 minutes, 25 seconds ago, placing them at approximately two hours before similar signs appeared in Bay 1."

The blob occasionally quivers, trying to inch its way over towards Paravada, like a child sneaking up to play a trick.

Anderson starts, "When was the first anomalous life sign from the 9th Shift crew and whose was it Kronos?"

Paravada opens the tube of coagulant. Stares down at the glob. Considers, for a long moment. And then squirts it with coagulant. "Stop that," she tells it.

Kronos says, "Lt. Commander Morgan was the first anomalous life sign from the Ninth Shift, Commander."

The blob freezes as the coagulant hits it...literally, almost, the silver turning into a brittle, white metal skin over it, and all motion stopping.
Paravada blinks at it. "That worked rather well."

Kuznetsov is distracted by the coagulant on the blob, making a mental comparison of how much coagulant Paravada uses versus the size of the blob. Then something clicks. "In the six hours prior to his death, did Lieutenant Commander Morgan ever enter Cargo Bay 1?"

Kronos says, "Several times. He was assigned to outer hull cleanup after the Hermes ran into a meteor cluster."

You paged Anderson with 'Actually...you seem to remember that in the crew logs, right before you pulled up the murder footage.'.

Anderson pages: I remember that there was a meteor cluster?

You paged Anderson with 'You remember seeing that one of the crew had been assigned to inspect and repair the outer hull after a meteor cluster had left minor damage there.'.

Kuznetsov exhales. "Yob tvoyu mat," he says, shaking his head.

Anderson nods slowly, "Yes, I remember when I read the crew logs earlier that someone was supposed to repair the hull. Kronos, was the repair completed? And was there any trace or samples of the meteors brought on board?"

"Affirmative to both questions," Kronos says. "The hull is now at 100 percent integrity according to my sensors, and one sample of an unusual meteor fragment was brought into the ship and stored in the crew medical bay."

Kuznetsov repeats, more emphatically, the same profanity in Russian, as he slumps against the wall.

Paravada mutters something unintelligible which might concern /proper contaminant containment procedure drills/.

Kuznetsov rubs his forehead with his hand, muttering a few more profanities. "If Morgan were not already dead, I would kill him myself." He sighs. "And now we know how the creature formed in medbay. We still do not fully know where the one in the VENT came from, though, but I imagine we can guess. After all, we still have not sat down to watch the deaths of the rest of the crew, have we?" He shakes his head. "Kronos, can you detect Commander Morgan's last-worn shipsuit anywhere still on the ship?"

"Kronos," Anderson turns to head back into the MedBay, "Has anyone other than Morgan come in contact with this meteor sample?"

"Lt. Commander Nagawa, the Ninth Shift chief medical officer, and Lieutenant Abeo, one of her assistants submitted an intention to perform an in depth study of the sample. The completed study was never entered into my data banks." Kronos sounds apologetic.

"I /wonder why/," Paravada says dryly.

Kuznetsov closes his eyes. "And what became of them?"

Kronos pauses a moment. "Lt. Commander Nagawa: Life signs ceased 20 hours ago. Lt. Abeo: Life signs ceased 19 hours ago."

"Well Doctor," Anderson looks over his shoulder, "It seems we have a sample to examine."

Kuznetsov nods, lips pursed together. "Assuming it is still there. I have a suspicion it was the nucleus of the... thing... that formed out of Bartimeus and Ortega."

Anderson enters Medbay, "Kronos, is the sample still in containment?"

Kuznetsov pushes himself to his feet and follows Anderson.

Paravada follows them both.

"Negative. Sample was removed for testing and never returned," Kronos says, still apologetic.

Kuznetsov nods his head and includes a few more profanities, in more languages.
Anderson looks about medbay, "Kronos, where is the last known location of the sample."

Kronos sounds...slightly confused. "Sample never left crew medical bay," it offers, uncertainly.

Kuznetsov nods his head again. "It took over the bodies," he says, grimly.

Paravada says "We should search medbay to make sure of that."

Kuznetsov looks around at the godawful mess. "Yes. Perhaps you and the Ensigns can do that? I intend to send the Drone with the flamethrower down into the vents after the Thing in the Supply Rooms."

Morris looks rather glum at the prospect of that, also looking around at the godawful mess.

Paravada nods. "I need to clean up, anyway."