Sickbay aboard the USS Cardinal operated with muted urgency. Monitors chimed in steady intervals. Hyposprays hissed as the protective suit-clad medical team moved between biobeds now crowded with patients. Most of the crew inside were sedated. Expressions of anxiety still crested their features as nightmares pressed against their dreams. Counselors shielded in protective gear offered support and encouragement to the wakened.

One patient sat upright. The older woman seemed to carry more defiance than anguish.

Kitty Cavanaugh, veteran gossip columnist of Star Crossed, rested against a propped biobed cushion. Pale makeup caked her delicate features under several carefully-applied layers of powder and gloss. She had long since perfected the art of concealing the faint wrinkles that traced her early sixties. Her hair fell in coiled grey-blonde curls that caught the eye in their springy bounce. Around her neck hung an ostentatious piece of green Bolian jewelry, its viridescent gemstone polished to a wet sheen. It matched the dark green shade of her eyes. She seemed to watch everything in Sickbay with the trained gaze of a hunter looking for a headline.

On the far side of the room, Lt. Cmdr. Binedra Dowa approached with a look of concern written across her face. She was clad in a white, sealed biohazard filtration suit. The clear mask revealed her cobalt-blue Bolian complexion bisected by the anatomical ridge line that cut straight through her face and body. Beside her walked Nurse Lisa Kelly O’Hanlon, also sealed inside protective gear. Her tumble of red-gold curls still managed to look untamable even beneath the large hood.

Both women came to a stop at Kitty’s biobed. Dowa wasted no time with pleasantries. Her voice spoke clipped through the comm-pickups of the suit. “Miss Cavanaugh, we’ve completed contact tracing of this outbreak. I’m afraid the evidence is clear. You are patient zero.”

Kitty let out an incredulous laugh. “Me? Impossible. I’ve never been sick a day in my life. At least, not in a way that wasn’t cured by ginger tea and a decent martini.”

Dowa folded her arms. “Be that as it may, the scans don’t lie. You were in both Operations and Science on the day the illness first spread. You interviewed several officers for a piece you were working on, yes?”

Kitty’s painted lips curled into a smirk. “Naturally. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? Access. The Cardinal has been sniffing around a very interesting part of space. My count places us along the Breen border, are we not? My first article hinted at that, but that’s hardly newsworthy. My latest work focuses on something more abstract. Sources tipped me off to a mysterious substance you’re carrying. I made it my business to get to the bottom of it. Everyone was tight-lipped, of course. I still saw enough to warrant a deeper investigation.”

“We have reason to believe the disease was spread through touch. Do you remember making contact with any of the officers?” Concern was written across the Bolian doctor’s face as she tried to redirect Kitty back to relevant matters.

“But of course”, Kitty replied matter-of-factly. “I greet everybody with a hug. Maybe even a kiss, if the person calls to me.”

O’Hanlon made a note on her PADD and then fixed her steady gaze toward the tabloid columnist. “When did you first feel symptoms?”

Kitty tapped her manicured nails on the bedframe as she tried to recall the past few days. “I didn’t feel off until about five days ago. Actually, it was the day after I submitted my first article. So, it must have been the Eighteenth.”

“And how long had you been aboard the Cardinal by then,” O’Hanlon asked.

Kitty nodded as she replied. “I came aboard during the stopover at Janoor III. I felt right as rain then. It was only after that deadline that the headaches started. I thought it was just stress. Deadlines always give me migraines.”

Dowa gestured to the biobed’s monitor. “These are not stress migraines. They’re2 symptomatic of Jovian Mind Flu. Your neural patterns match every other patient we’ve seen today. The only difference is that yours started earliest.”

Kitty frowned. “So I infected the lot of them, did I?”

“That’s the conclusion,” said Dowa solemnly. “The computer modeled your movements throughout the ship. The officers you spoke with are almost all showing symptoms now. Some of those they live and work with are becoming ill as well. This isn’t your fault, but the outbreak began with you.”

Kitty’s chin lifted. “Perhaps I caught it from one of them instead. I spent time with so many people those first days. I interviewed half of the science team, not to mention a quarter of the ops deck. Any one of them could have passed it along. It might relate to the mysterious element your ship is toting.”

O’Hanlon’s voice softened, though still firm. “I’m not sure what the science bay may or may not be carrying, but the spread radiates outward from your path. If another infected you, tracing would show a path moving inwards toward you along another’s trajectory. The computer doesn’t make guesses, Miss Cavanaugh. Our model is quite definitive.”

Lt. Cmdr. Dowa spoke with a smile. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you were the first.”

For a moment, Kitty’s sharp expression faltered. A flicker of something crossed her eyes. Kitty quickly masked whatever internal guilt she felt. “Well. I suppose even a journalist isn’t immune to being the story every once in a while.”

“Indeed,” Dowa muttered. She tapped an adjacent console. “You’ve already been inoculated with a treatment synthesized from past cases. It should lessen your symptoms as your immune system adapts. The science department has been working on an updated treatment for the past few days. I still need more from you than conspiracy theories. I need names. Who were you around just before you started to feel ill?”

Kitty waved her hand as her forested irises were sealed away and hidden by lowered eyelids. “There were so many faces, Doctor. I can try to narrow it down. Let’s see, my first interview was with Ensign Ral in science. There was a lieutenant at Ops. His name escapes me but he had a scar over his brow. I remember interviewing an enlisted technician too, some charming young fellow with a nervous laugh.” She tapped her chin with one painted fingernail. “I can’t recall anybody who looked ill at the time. It makes me wonder. If I truly am patient zero, where did I catch it?”

Dowa’s mouth hardened. “That’s what we intend to find out. This is why I asked when your symptoms began. If it was after your article went in, we’ll need to compare your time on the ship with security logs. Officers will have to trace your movement and track everyone you came in contact with on the Eighteenth.”

“This is such a random illness to sprout aboard a starship. Maybe this isn’t happenstance”, O’Hanlon suggested. “Does anybody hold a grudge against you by chance?”

Kitty chuckled. “Do you think somebody infected me out of spite? It’s possible, I suppose. My articles don’t always paint people in the best light. I had dinner with a half-dozen officers and spoke to twice as many strangers that night. I think anyone trying to find the source will have quite a difficult time.”

O’Hanlon looked up from her PADD. “We’ll cross-check your contacts for others who may be infected. For now, it’s clear the initial spread began with you.”

Kitty sighed and leaned back against her pillow. Her curls shifted and bounced with the motion. The greying locks framed her face like a halo of silver-gold. “I’d rather be the one writing about this story than living it.”

There was a pause. Dowa finally asked a question that had clawed at her mind. “What was your article about, exactly? The one you submitted the day before symptoms began.”

A sly smile tugged at Kitty’s lips. “Oh, that piece? Captain Raku, of course. It focused on his love life. His latest companion is a treacherous scamp named Greta Lazio. You know the name, surely. The Lazios? There are whispers that her family has roots in crime that dates back more than four centuries. Our dear Captain has been entertaining her aboard this ship. I simply connected the dots that tie your lovely captain to her life of crime.”

O’Hanlon frowned. “Old ties to gangsters from a few hundred years ago doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure there were outlaws in my family in those times too. Earth was a madhouse back then.”

Kitty’s smile sharpened. “Everything has a meaning and relevance, my dear. Besides. Gossip cures boredom. Exposure remedies wounds caused by internal secrets. If a few reputations are burned along the way, well. That’s just the cost we must pay for the truth.”

Dowa raised one sealed cobalt-blue hand to stall her. Her tone was as restrictive as iron bindings. “We are not here to indulge your sensationalism, Miss Cavanaugh. Right now, you are a patient. Your health and the health of this crew matter more than your columns.”

Kitty tilted her head. “That’s a shame. I thought you might enjoy hearing what I found.”

The Sickbay doors hissed open. A lab technician hurried inside, clad in the same bulky white filtration gear as the medical staff. He held a sealed case in his gloved hands. “Doctor Dowa. I have the latest experimental inoculation. We just finished stabilizing this serum.”

Dowa nodded briskly. “Good. Set it on the prep tray.”

The interruption broke Kitty’s train of thought. Her green eyes flicked from the technician to the doctor. Irritation was written plain across her painted features. Whatever scandal she had been about to spin was left suspended in the sterile air.

Dowa turned her attention to the sample. Her mind had already begun to calculate dosage refinements based on species anatomy and schedules to replicate and distribute the serum. O’Hanlon stepped forward to assist the doctor.

Kitty Cavanaugh sat back, glossy lips pressed into a faint smile. The predatory gleam in her gaze had not dimmed. Even accused as the source of the sickness that spread through the ship, she seemed to relish the idea that she still had the sharpest story in the fleet.

The lab technician studied the sealed case that sat on the prep tray beside Doctor Binedra Dowa. The filtration hood muffled his voice, but his tone carried quiet excitement. “This latest sample shows high success in stabilizing the virus. Early tests show eighty-three percent effectiveness at purging the viral load. The treatment is based on a nano-engineered microbe from Jovian origin. We programmed it to feed directly on the mind flu’s viral structure.”

Dowa’s threaded brows rose slightly as she checked the data pad he handed her. “A predatory microbe. I’ll admit, that’s clever work.”

Nurse Lisa Kelly O’Hanlon leaned closer to peer at a readout as the computer scanned the serum. “If it holds, this is our first real step forward.”

The technician nodded. “It’s not perfect yet. The progression curve does show that the inoculation keeps working after initial delivery. Once the treatment is in the bloodstream, it multiplies just enough to outpace the flu.”

Kitty Cavanaugh reclined on her biobed and tilted her head at the trio. “So I’m to be fed alien microbes now? At my tender age? I thought non-synthetic martinis were dangerous enough.”

Dowa smirked faintly. “The treatment is safe, Miss Cavanaugh. At least, more safe than the virus currently swimming inside of you. Though the medical side is only half the treatment.”

Kitty narrowed her sharp green eyes. “Oh? Do tell.”

“The Jovian Mind Flu doesn’t just torment the body,” Dowa said. “It unravels the psyche. Follow-up counseling is a necessity. The virus leaves scars in the mind long after the fever breaks.”

Kitty hesitated as her playful deflection faltered. “That explains the dreams,” she said softly. “it really hasn’t been easy, you know.”

O’Hanlon glanced at her. “They sound really challenging. Tell us more about those dreams. Maybe something in your story can prove useful towards treatment.”

Kitty licked her lips, then spoke as she had admitted something shameful. “Nightmares. Grotesque, horrid nightmares. I’m always surrounded by Orions. Hulking, twisted versions of them. Not the manipulatively charming pirate archetypes you hear about in spacefarer tales, but distorted shadows of reality. Their faces are stretched in the wrong directions. Gangly, muscular things. Their eyes are yellowed and bloodshot. Shouting voices crack like glass. They tie me up. One of them once said,” she shuddered as she spoke, “that my mind is a prison. And that they were the wardens.”

“That sounds more like psychic assault than a dream,” O’Hanlon murmured. Fears of catching the illness crept into her thoughts.

Dowa activated the hypospray to fill it with the glimmering serum. “That’s just the illness manifesting. It plays on your fears. It even takes the shape of them. Worries cascade and grate you unt2il you believe they’re real. Aftershocks can linger, Miss Cavanaugh. We’ve seen this happen in previously treated cases on record. That’s why counseling isn’t optional. It’s mandatory.”

Kitty wrapped her arms around herself briefly. “Well, then. Give me your alien microbe cocktail before I start hallucinating about gnarled, shirtless Orion bandits here in Sickbay.”

O’Hanlon checked a monitor as Dowa prepared the injection. “Vitals are steady. Her temperature is elevated, thirty-eight point three Celsius. Respiration is shallow. The patient’s heart rate is one-eighteen.”

“Noted.” Dowa pressed the hypospray against Kitty’s arm. The hiss filled the tense air. The journalist did not flinch.

Almost immediately, her vitals shifted. O’Hanlon’s voice reverberated through the suit’s commlink as she read data aloud. “Her temperature is dropping. I read thirty-seven point six and falling. Respiration is slowly stabilizing. Scans show a deeper breath intake. Heart rate is slowing towards one hundred even.”

Kitty let out a long exhale as her eyes fluttered. “Oh, that’s better. It feels like a splash of cool water after a desert march.” She shifted to lay on her side. Deeper shades of peach crept back into her powdered complexion. “I feel calm. I haven’t felt this relaxed in weeks.”

The technician quietly packed up his tray. “I’ll return to the lab for further refinement. If her curve holds, she should improve to ninety-five percent clearance within the hour.” He gave a polite nod before he turned and left Sickbay.

Dowa adjusted the monitor to track the inoculation’s spread. Sure enough, the viral load had already decreased. The effect was visible in real time. A wide LCARS display showed the curve of infection scanned through samples in her body tabulate downwards.

Kitty’s lips curled. “You see? I make an excellent test subject. Kitty Cavanaugh always knows how to tell a tale.”

Dowa arched a brow. “You’re still under quarantine, Miss Cavanaugh. Let’s not pretend this is a triumph just yet.”

Kitty had already pivoted. “Speaking of stories,” she said as her voice regained its predatory tone. “We were talking about my latest article, weren’t we? The one that ties Captain Raku’s love life to a four-hundred-year-old Earth crime family?”

O’Hanlon shot Dowa a look, but the doctor didn’t silence her.

Kitty sat up in her bed with a playful glint behind her stare. “Greta Lazio. His sweetheart. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the Lazios. Smuggling, old world extortion. There are even whispers of assassinations within the family tree. Her lineage is indeed drenched in infamy. Yet here we have our noble Bajoran captain, entangled with a ruffian from her neck of the woods.”

“Personal lives of the crew are not our concern,” Dowa said evenly.

Kitty’s smirk widened. “Of course they are. Keeping you all informed is my work. I’ll tell you something else.” She lowered her voice theatrically. “Rumors say Greta is pregnant. You haven’t heard anything about that, have you?”

Dowa froze. Her lips parted but no words formed. The doctor knew all about Greta and was guiding her through the early stages of her pregnancy alongside Captain Raku.

Kitty’s eyes lit up. “Ohhh. That pause. That silence. I have been reading faces longer than you’ve been patching them up, Doctor. My article already reported the pregnancy, though I didn’t need the confirmation. Still. You just gave it to me.”

O’Hanlon stiffened. “That is completely irresponsible, Miss Cavanaugh. To publish something like that without concern for anybody’s privacy is pretty disgusting.”

“Without care for who?” Kitty cut in smoothly. “The Captain? His lady? The crew who whispers behind his back already? Please. You people know better than anyone. Secrets rot ships faster than hull breaches. My article simply turned a light on inside of a dark room.”

Dowa’s jaw tightened. “Your timing could not be worse. We are all trying to fight this medical crisis. Your rumors will only add to the contagion.”

Kitty smiled and curled her hands in her lap as though she were the very picture of innocence. “Well. You can inoculate a body, Doctor. But not a tongue’s speech.”

Dowa turned back to the monitor. She needed a moment to focus on numbers instead of the smug columnist. The scan now showed ninety-one percent viral clearance. The antibody curve slowly pushed towards full suppression. A sense of relief tugged at the edges of the doctor’s irritation.

“Look at that,” O’Hanlon said. “She’s almost free of it already.”

Kitty sighed in satisfaction. She lay back as her head fell against the cushion. “Bless your microbes. I may live to write another scandal yet.”

Her eyes fixated on Dowa with renewed mischief. “Now, be a darling and send in the hunky Trill counselor. The one who talks about nothing but plants. What’s his name again?”

“Lieutenant Sohjeg Prun,” O’Hanlon admitted before she could stop herself. Binedra Dowa shot the nurse a menacing look.

“Yes, that’s him.” Kitty’s lips curved. “If I must speak of my nightmares, I’d rather talk to somebody with dimples and a way of making soil sound seductive.”

Dowa stiffened. Something hot and sour prickled in her chest. Sohjeg Prun was not only her colleague, but her partner. The pair had been dating since shore leave. She wondered if Kitty was trying to find a scoop about their love life. It wouldn’t be hard to twist a story out of the fact that the chief medical officer was dating the assistant chief counselor.

“He’s busy,” Dowa said curtly.

Kitty arched a brow. “Is he now? How curious.” Her voice was accusatory. “A ship full of the stricken, a mind flu that demands counseling, and the counselor is ‘busy’? That sounds like another story to me.”

Dowa forced her voice into an even cadence. “We will arrange sessions when the immediate medical crisis is contained. Very soon, I promise. Until then, your recovery is my concern. Your flirtations will simply have to wait.” The Bolian released a disarming smile beneath her visor. She felt the need to keep Lt. Prun away from the writer until she could warn him about her latest words.

Kitty smiled wider, as though she had sniffed out something. “Well, well. Secrets, Doctor Dowa. Even right here in Sickbay. You’d be amazed how often morsels like these find their way into intergalactic print.”

Dowa’s cobalt lips pressed together. She said nothing more as she watched the illuminated numbers on the monitor continue to climb. The inoculation was doing its job. The magnificent Kitty Cavanaugh would recover.

“Tell me, Doctor”, Kitty began to quip. “Is there any way a lady could find a cocktail in here?”