Posted by Gamemaster GMT Phoenix (GMT) in Quarters: Lieutenant T’Leia

Posted by Lieutenant T’Leia (Chief Science Officer) in Quarters: Lieutenant T’Leia
OOC: This happens before the sim, just after leaving DS9 according to the GM:)

IC:
T’Leia had boarded the Chimera late the night before and her Medical check in and reporting to the XO were in the morning so she was still sleeping when the sudden klaxons of a Red Alert sounded, snapping her eyes open as she immediately rose.

With a few quick pulls her blanket covered the bed as she turned to the closet and pulled out a uniform. She hurriedly began to don it. She knew she couldn’t take a station as she hadn’t officially been welcomed aboard yet but she could head to the bridge and offer her expertise.

Lt. T’Leia CSO

just as T’Leia was about to walk out the door She would suddenly feel a presence pressing hard against her mind a vision Hitting her with the force of a Photon Torpedo

As the vision hit her mind and began to expand, T’Leia fell against her open door jamb, hanging on with white knuckled fingers as her sight of the here and now faded away to what was being forced into it.

Discordant and layered, two distinct voices tore into her mind like rusted machinery grinding against bone and wet flesh. The first voice was a collective, a choir of jagged, broken tones speaking as one—each word lurching forward, raw and unfinished, like something trying to learn how to speak using harvested throats:

“We live. Command Self needs parts. Consume little parts. Create more Little Selves, When enough little parts are consumed, enough Little Selves, we consume big parts. Command Self is weak. Command Self must become…stronger”

Each word was soaked in hunger, in the wet tearing sound of something too large dragging itself through too small a space. The words carried the stink of death, the taste of metal, the sound of rending hulls and cracking bones all at once.

Visions detonated in her mind, overwhelming her senses. It wasn’t imagination. It was memory—stolen memory. The Entity forced her to see through the eyes of the consumed and the converted, a collage of horror, torn apart and stitched into something new.

T’Leia panted as the visions continued. As she fought her instinct to shove this invader out and let it give her what information it could. She had no doubt it was real. She could feel it as a living lifeform…many bodied as it was.

She saw ships—gleaming hulls once whole, now twisted into corpse-ships, their exteriors splitting open with raw, pulsing tissue where polished bulkheads once stood. Hull plates sagged under the weight of tendrils—flesh fused with metal in obscene, pulsating knots, like tumors growing over deck plating. Human eyes stared out from within the ship’s surfaces, blind and screaming, embedded in glistening membrane stretched taut across control panels and corridors.

These were the “little parts. the Little Selves.”

The visions lurched and shifted to something far worse. Whole planets hung in subspace like meat on hooks—planets dragged partially into the Entity’s realm, their atmospheres torn away like skin from muscle, exposing the raw nerve of entire civilizations. Cities once vibrant were reduced to mountains of Pulsing Biomatter, where every building had been consumed, reshaped into organic machinery, towers of bone and steel extruding upward into the void.

Every inhabitant was taken—not killed, but broken down and turned into pounds of blood-colored Biomater repurposed, minds and bodies stretched across miles of living entitty, still aware, still screaming, their thoughts trapped inside the pulsating membranes of the entity’s growing mass.

These were the “big parts.”

The Entity’s purpose was brutally, mind-shatteringly clear: consume everything. All life, all technology, every starship, every mind—pulled into itself, feeding its relentless growth across dimensions.

T’Leia’s horror increased as she realized this creature was more rapacious then even the Borg. More all consuming…

Then came the second voice—a chorus, but not in unison. It was a thousand separate screams layered atop one another, each voice distinct, each one writhing, breaking, reforming. Some begged for death. Others didn’t even have words left, reduced to guttural sobs and gasping breaths.

These were the consumed minds, souls caught between death and digestion, dissolved into the living structure of the Entity itself. They hadn’t been silenced—they’d been left awake, aware, trapped inside the very sinew and metal of the ships the Entity had taken. They felt everything.

This was worse than assimilation. The Borg replaced. This… preserved, turning sentient life into nerve endings stretched across miles of decaying starship flesh, part of a neural web that felt every fold, every tear, every hungry twitch of the Entity’s spreading tendrils. There was no escape, no end—only endless, agonizing awareness.

The Chimera’s fleet was next.

She saw them—ships once proud and sleek, now corpse-ships, their hulls split like cracked shells, bleeding oily fluids that pulsed with embedded life signs. Their engines flickered, alive but not alive, driven by the Entity’s nerve fibers coiling through every system, twitching with a hunger that was no longer mechanical, but organic.

No crew remained—only flesh fused into bulkheads, eyes wide and glassy all along the corridors of these ships.

Their weapons powered up—a fleet of reanimated cadavers, piloted by the fused remains of their own crews, all driven by the Entity’s will. The Chimera and its escorts were no longer ships to be fought—they were parts waiting to be claimed.

The final whisper crawled into T’Liea’s skull, closer than a breath, so intimate it felt like teeth pressing against her mind:

“More parts.”

Kira The Weasel
GMT Phoenix

Gasping, T’Leia finally managed to push the Entity out and stumbled down the corridor and lurched toward Sickbay. She had to get to Sickbay.

Lt. T’Leia CSO