Main Security Offices 15:00 Hours Captain Calestorm intently watched the security footage, the real time recording showing the gruesome events as they had unfolded in the hanger bay a short while ago. Ensign Allen had gone completely postal, firing several phaser shots off without warning. Deck crew, pilots, mechanics scattered and dove for cover wherever they could find it. Ensign Shalin had been there as well, using the training simulator. Commander Wesley and Lieutenant Haruno arrived on scene and attempted a flank and rush maneuver on Allen. Allen changed, the cameras catching the gruesome transformation frame by frame. His hands elongated to claws. Fangs gleamed white. He resembled the crew that had contracted the ‘vampire virus’. Claws splayed and he ripped out his own throat in a spray of blood. She muttered a particularly vehement phrase under her breath and then ordered the computer to rewind and zoom in on the recording, wanting to further scrutinize a particular event captured. “Vega. C’mere, check this out.” Lance Corporal Joseph Vega moved up to stand beside the captain, and she started the playback again from the last few moments of the event. She pointed. “…you see that?” “Uh, yeah. Black mist stuff, the ventilator duct? That’s some weird lookin’ sh*t.” He stiffened, realizing he the word slip, “…uh, Ma’am.” “Don’t worry about it.” Then, she winged a good natured smirk at him. “So, guess this means I really won’t get rid of you now, huh?” The big jarhead snorted. “Hell no. Ma’am. I’m on you like Engineering polymer glue.” “Fine. C’mon, let’s go.” Crash pushed herself away from the console and rose from the chair; the captain with her escort in tow quickly exited the security offices. When they were out of earshot of any crew in the vicinity she asked, “…any chance I can get you to spill on who assigned you to me?’ “That’s classified information, Sir.” “Of course it is…”