#sub. | демонов набралось на маленький карманный ад

[ensiignchekov]

tags

[ensiignchekov]

@nebulaties, x.

This is what it felt like, to be hunted? He wasn’t a fan of it. However Pavel was right about one thing; whatever it was, the thing was interested in them. It drew concern from Ed, he had a station full of the Orville crew trying to get systems running and the station operational once more. The word demon drew his attention to the ensign. “Sure as hell looked like one.” From what he was able to see from the glimpse he had gotten, there weren’t any distinguishable features that would link it to any known species in the federations system—ed had spent plenty of time studying different species in the system, just in case it was needed.

Power was one thing that the station needed, but he also needed a security system running in order to try to detect this thing.

Gaze lingered where it had vanished to. The engineering bay flooded in light, proved to show just how long this station has been abandoned. Their footprints in the dust accumulated over the years with a slight glitter that was only exaggerated by the bright lights overhead. However, over some of their footprints a much larger print remained—this thing was larger, larger than he’d expected it to be with the ability to hide so well.

The tricorder offered, he took it. Looking over the data. Pavel was correct, as far as the device was concerned, this thing didn’t exist. “Power and the systems running.” Ed confirmed handing Pavel his tricorder back. “Whatever this thing is… we don’t know what its intentions are or how it survived without a food source. Between the plants in the conservatory to whatever that is. Something isn’t entirely right with this station. We are out of range of communications with the relay down.” The system relay was shut down not too long after the station was abandoned.

What Ed needed was to have everyone within areas where the lights were working.

“Right. Let’s get to base camp, regroup.” Opening the lift, he let Pavel enter first before shutting it and pushing the padd to take them back up to the main deck where he had established a base camp just outside of the transporter room for docking.

He considered the whispers the crew had been talking about over the last few hours. “You heard it? That whispering sound it makes?” it sounded like a haunting in old horror movie holos. Something that also was unlike any known species in starfleet's database. “We need to get the lights on in this place. We have several areas connected, we just don’t know how it’s getting around. We need to find a way to track it and figure out what the hell it is.”

"Is that our working name for it? The demon? We'll need some way to call it that isn't just the thing that chased us." And even though he doesn't believe in demons and ghost stories, he recognises that tales of them have survived even well into the twenty-third century for good reason.

It had all the makings of a demon, a monster from stories and fairytales.

"You can think of a better name when we figure out more about it and enter it into the Federation database."

Pavel doesn't dare venture beyond the safety of the light in case that creature, the demon, is simply biding its time, waiting again to strike. Whatever it is, however it came to be, he has no doubts of its intelligence and resilience. Whether it was born on this abandoned space station or if it came here through other means, it clearly knows how to hunt, how to think, and the fact that it knew exactly where that vent was to escape shows it knows its way around this station even better than they do.

He finds himself wondering if the schematics they have of this old station are out of date. If this creature has decided that if this is now going to be its home, it wasn't happy with the station the way it was. Did it carve out new passageways and tunnels for itself through the abandoned maintenance shafts, effectively halving the distance between point A and point B? Is it capable of doing such a thing? Pavel has nothing but questions piling on top of questions and a burgeoning unease that those clawsーor whatever they areーmight just be sharp enough to carve through metal like it's paper.

Imagine then what it could do to one of the crew if they were caught!

Pavel could speculate for hours if allowed, sitting in the bright light flooding engineering and trying to analyse what scraps of information they have. He could twist and pull and reshape until his mind slowed from fatigue, but there would still be that gaping hole in the centre of it all, huge and mocking and unknown.

But there's no time for that and he's needed elsewhere. The last thing he wants is to be left alone on this unfamiliar station with an unknown entity running around, so he shuffles quickly into the lift and stands with his back against the wall, facing the captain. "We should have everyone on the station meet us there so we can tell them what we've learned." From there, they should probably relay that information to the crew still on the Orville just to be safe.

He taps his foot gently as he thinks. The lift doors slide shut, closing them off from the dust and the footprints, and Pavel has the passing thought that they've become characters in old holovids. If they split up, they will get picked off one-by-one until there are only one or two of them left to avenge the fallen crew.

"I heard it. It's exactly like what Lieutenant Markel described two hours ago. He said it just sounded like it was coming from everywhere and he couldn't pin it down. Lieutenant Hale said something about the walls talking." Pavel looks up at the captain. "Maybe that is how it draws out prey? Naturally, if something hears a strange sound, they go to investigate."

That may be a stretch, but it's the only working theory he has at the moment.

"We can have the science team build a tracker? In the twenty-first century, they used to tag whales and other wildlife creatures with satellite or acoustic tags. We can use something similar. The only thing is, we will have to lure it out in order to tag it, and that means getting close to it." Bait, so to speak—a position he can't imagine anyone willingly accepting.

Around them, the lift groans and trembles, protesting such heavy use after so many years. Pavel opens his mouth to add on another thought about the creature, but promptly closes it when something heavy strikes the lift overhead, violently rocking the cabin. Instinctively, he grabs on to whatever handhold is within reach and lifts his chin to the ceiling, as if he will be able to see through the walls.

"Captain! Do you hear that?"