Star Trek: Nexus

The lead Kobali scientist, Dr. Tynsla, studied the monitor with a gleam of satisfaction. "Heartbeat is reactivating… cognitive functions are responding, albeit… oddly. But they're reactivating!" He turned to his colleagues with a triumphant smile. "Necro Virus 42 is the winning strain. Inject this strain into the other members of Species 124. Once they're fully revived, alert the Adoption Agency. We'll have even more Kobali to bring home soon!" Dr. Tynsla returned to his datapad, basking in the sense of his own brilliance.

Around him, Kobali scientists moved to the containment pods lining the lab, each pod housing a dormant Fek'ihri, a creature as formidable as it was dead. As they injected the modified virus, the scientists began noticing signs of reanimation—subtle twitches, the slow filling of lungs, the return of color to flesh.

But then, the first pod, containing Subject 001, began to shake violently.

"Dr. Tynsla!" A nurse's panicked voice broke the scientist's calm. The containment pod rattled with increasing intensity, the form inside thrashing as if possessed.

"No… no, that shouldn't be happening," Tynsla muttered, hurrying to the pod. He peered inside, his face mere inches from the glass as the Fek'ihri's body convulsed. Muscles bulged and twisted under its skin, which began to bubble grotesquely in random places, limbs distorting as if warping under intense pressure.

Before he could step back, the pod's glass shattered as a monstrous, mutated claw punched through, gripping Tynsla's neck and torso. The creature's limb pulsed with unnatural growth, swelling to monstrous proportions, its skin tearing and reforming in a horrifying, fluid mutation, reminiscent of a nightmare. The claw's grip tightened, crushing Tynsla instantly with a sickening snap, his body falling limp as if he were no more than a broken doll.

"AAAAAAHHHH!" A nurse's scream echoed through the lab, piercing the shocked silence as the monstrous Fek'ihri abomination, a horrid amalgamation of twisted Klingon skin, horns, and grotesquely mutated muscles, tore itself from the pod. Its eyes glowed with a sickly, feral light as it roared, the sound reverberating with raw, mindless rage. It hurled the lifeless body of Dr. Tynsla across the lab, scattering his colleagues in terror as they scrambled for cover.

Panic erupted in the lab as the scientists fled, the remaining containment pods now trembling violently, each housing a Fek'ihri form straining against its restraints. One by one, the pods began to burst open, spilling forth an unstoppable wave of mutated, rage-driven horrors.

—

Meanwhile, far from the unfolding horror, peace talks between the Kobali and the Vaadwaur were going disastrously wrong.

"Your scientists desecrated the bodies of millions of our dead!" A Vaadwaur commander slammed his fists onto the table, his cobra-like neck frilling in fury.

"They were dead for hundreds of years!" the Kobali General shot back, his voice equally indignant as he met the Vaadwaur's glare. "We only discovered the pods recently! It's not our fault you 'woke up' almost a thousand years late!"

"Enough!" Captain Anzyl shouted, forcefully stepping between the two adversaries. "We've all had quite the morning," he said, taking a breath to calm himself. Straightening his uniform, he looked at both delegates. "I suggest we take a break for lunch. Negotiations often go better on a full stomach."

"I refuse to eat that Kobali… paste," the Vaadwaur delegate spat, his tone dripping with contempt. "I'd rather remodel my entire ship with that gray sludge than consume it!"

Anzyl stifled a grin; he sympathized with the sentiment—the thought of the bland Kobali nutrition paste was enough to dampen his own spirits. "Well, if that's unappetizing, I can have the Nexus send down a 'Peace of Cake,' an Earth delicacy traditionally shared during peace negotiations."

The delegates grumbled, but with a huff, they both retreated, exiting the conference room through opposite doors.

Exhausted, Anzyl slumped into his chair, rubbing his temples as Keten and Kayuli approached.

"You all right, Captain?" Keten asked, handing him a glass of water.

Anzyl sighed, taking a long drink. "I've handled hundreds of peace talks in my lifetimes, and they're all the same at first—rough, tense. The trick is finding it. The 'common ground.' Something both sides can relate to, something to build on." He set down the glass with a determined look. "And we just need to find it."

Kayuli sat beside him, shaking his head. "Easier said than done. I've never seen two more dissimilar species. The Vaadwaur—warlike, displaced 900 years into the future, now on the verge of extinction. The Kobali—nomadic, trying to rebuild their society by, well, unconventional means."

Anzyl's eyes suddenly lit up. "On the verge of extinction…" he echoed. He shot upright, a smile breaking across his face. "That's it! Both are fighting desperately to preserve their people, their past and future. After lunch, we'll open with that as our bridge."

Suddenly, alarms blared through the building, echoing down the halls in a chilling, urgent wail.

Anzyl and his officers popped their heads out of the hallway, glancing around, as Jhet'laya rushed toward them.

"Captain!" she called, her face stricken with worry. "We have an emergency at the Reanimation Center. The alarm went off, but there's been no response to our hails. The military claims it's a Vaadwaur attack, but the Vaadwaur deny involvement. Tensions are escalating fast. If ever there was a time for a mediator—"

"Agreed," Anzyl said, already moving. "Lead the way. Quickly." He tapped his combadge. "Captain to First Zide'Mok. Ready your platoon and meet me on the surface. Your… peacekeeping skills may be needed shortly."

"Understood, Captain. First out."

—

Anzyl, Keten, and Kayuli, guided by Jhet'laya, hurried out of the capitol building as clashes between Kobali and Vaadwaur representatives began spilling into the streets. Shouting, pushing, and the flash of weapons raised the stakes, with chaos edging ever closer.

Suddenly, brilliant white flashes filled the air as the Nexus's Jem'Hadar platoon materialized, Zide'Mok at the lead. The Jem'Hadar acted swiftly, breaking up skirmishes and firing warning shots into the sky to restore order.

"This is not good for negotiations," Anzyl muttered under his breath.

"Agreed," Jhet'laya said, panic lacing her voice. "If this is about the Reanimation Chambers… if they're destroyed, it will mean war."

Anzyl nodded, determination setting in. "Then it's time for a neutral investigation." He tapped his combadge. "Anzyl to O'Reilly."

"Neil here," came the quick, calm reply.

"Meet me with Zide'Mok's platoon at the Reanimation Chambers. We may have an active domestic threat. And send down my nouliths—I have a feeling this could get ugly."

—

In a series of neon pink and white transporter flashes, Anzyl and his team, accompanied by Jem'Hadar reinforcements, materialized outside the Reanimation Chambers. Red warning lights flickered ominously, casting the building in a ghastly glow.

Neil's eyes narrowed as he drew his phaser. "This doesn't look right, Captain."

Anzyl's noulith phasers sprang into a defensive formation around him, their precision reassuring him as he scanned the building. "No, it doesn't sound right either."

A deep, guttural roar echoed from within the chambers, followed by chilling screams and the crash of glass and metal—a cacophony of terror and pain, as if the very heart of the building had been torn open by something monstrous. The eerie sounds of growls and tearing echoed out, an unmistakable signal: something feral, something savage, had awakened within.