Tumultuous Tribble Tempest

Anzyl, Nolan, and Veirik shuffled shoulder to shoulder with a large crowd into the grand auditorium as the Intergalactic Tribble Grand Showcase's most prestigious award for "Best in Show" was about to commence.

The awards for various categories—Toy, Petite, Standard, Large, Natural, and Creative—had already been presented, and the event was now building up to its grand finale.

The atmosphere was electric, with crowds representing all factions and races cheering in anticipation as the top recipients of each category made their way onto the illuminated stage.

"Wow, this is…" Anzyl's gaze wandered in amazement, taking in the sights, sounds, and scents of the bustling event.

On the central stage stood six of the top tribble breeders in the galaxy, each a winner in their respective categories, now competing for the coveted "Best in Show" title and trophy.

Among them was a Bolian woman named Eravah Remm, the reigning champion of the "Best in Show." Adorned with an array of ribbons and medals, she waved gracefully to the cheering crowds, her bioluminescent, color-changing tribble adding to the spectacle.

From a tiny golf ball-sized tribble to a meter-tall behemoth with fur ranging from natural white velvet to iridescent color-changing gloss, the tribbles on display were truly...

"Something else…" Veirik remarked, also awestruck by the spectacular event.

As the audience erupted in applause, the chairman of the event, accompanied by a group of dignitaries, approached the stage, each carrying a piece of the prize purse to be awarded to one of the six finalists.

—

Far above the auditorium, a tumultuous tribble scheme of terrible proportions unfurled. In the large biomatter reservoirs, where the raw carbon matter used in replicators for the entire space station were held, the humongous silo was filled to the brim with millions upon millions of cooing and chirping tribbles.

—

Days prior, a disgruntled assistant to the reigning champion let loose countless "discarded" tribbles bred by her master into the biomatter reservoirs. While these tribbles were perfectly healthy, they didn't meet the stringent criteria for "Best in Show" quality, destined to be either discarded as refuse or sold to the highest bidder.

Trapped in this reservoir, with an endless supply of biomatter food and no natural predators to contain their population, these tribbles indulged in their innate habits of eating and breeding without restraint. The assistant's meticulously planned calculations were coming to fruition.

"By the time 'Best in Show' is declared, there will be so many tribbles in this reservoir that they will burst open and flood the entire station!" the assistant schemed. "Then we'll see the 'Best Show' ever, and I'll have the last laugh! That's what you get for firing ME Eravah!"

—

In the grand auditorium, where thousands of people cheered and applauded the top winners of the Intergalactic Tribble Grand Showcase, the Chairman approached the podium and waved at the adoring crowds.

It was standing room only, and Veirik's heightened senses were on high alert. Whether it was the sheer number of people around him, the lack of visible exits, or something else entirely, he couldn't shake the feeling that all was not well with the situation.

Veirik's stern expression betrayed his unease as he scanned the auditorium, his augmented senses picking up on subtle cues that set off alarm bells in his mind. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a primal instinct warning him of impending danger. Whether it was a result of his superhuman augmentation or years of combat experience, he trusted his gut instincts implicitly.

"Veirik to Zide'Mok," he whispered into his combadge, "You're still on the Nexus, correct?"

"Yes, we Jem'Hadar have no need for shore leave on a space station," came the reply.

"Do me a favor and scan the auditorium. Something doesn't feel right here," Veirik requested urgently.

"What do you want me to scan for?" Zide'Mok asked, puzzled. "Weapons, species, radioactive materials?"

"I don't know… I just… feel… something isn't… right," Veirik responded, his unease palpable despite the lack of any visible threat.

"There are no weapons or hazardous elements in the vicinity of the auditorium," Zide'Mok reported. "However, there is quite a large organic biomass in the auditorium and above."

"Of course there is, it's a packed house in this auditorium. Standing room only," Veirik replied, his words drowned out by the bustling crowd.

"Negative, not in the auditorium. This is a… A BIG biomass," Zide'Mok corrected himself, his surprise evident. "Just above you."

Veirik glanced up at the ceiling, his senses heightened as he observed the metal roof billowing and shifting, as if it were on the verge of bursting down upon the unsuspecting crowd. "Time to go," he declared, rushing to the side of the Captain and Nolan. "Captain, I highly advise that we leave immediately."

"What? Why?" Anzyl asked, taken aback. "They're just about to announce the…"

"No time to explain. Zide'Mok found something above us, and we need to leave. Now," Veirik insisted, urgency in his tone.

Anzyl and Nolan followed his gaze upward, their eyes widening as they saw the metal roof bulging ominously.

"Oh, that can't be good," Anzyl muttered, nodding in agreement. "Let's go, and Zide'Mok, notify station security that…"

Just as Anzyl, Nolan, and Veirik made their way toward the exit, the disgruntled assistant yelled over a megaphone from the balcony, "Eravah Remm! Let's all see how you like being Dumped!" They fired a makeshift bottle rocket at the roof of the auditorium. Though hardly anyone below noticed, the crowds above screamed in panic as the chemical concoction from the rocket sizzled and fizzed, melting the metal roof.

"EVERYBODY OUT!!" Veirik bellowed a mighty roar.

The chemical rocket smashed on the roof of the auditorium, where the metal sizzled and bubbled, melting away from the chemical acid.

Suddenly, like a massive pustule, the roof burst open, pouring out a waterfall of floof and fur. Billions of tribbles cascaded into the massive auditorium, sweeping away champions, competitors and spectators alike amidst screams and cries of panic.

"Nexus, get us out of here!" Anzyl commanded, tapping his badge as the wave of tribbles rushed toward them.

---

"Sorry, captain! I can't get a lock!" Keten replied, typing frantically from his console on the bridge, "There are literally billions of targets in your vicinity, and the computer can't lock onto your signatures.

First Officer Neil stood up from the Captain's chair, glaring at Keten to pull off a miracle.

"You need to get some distance between you and the wave." Keten furiously typed on his console. "I can't even get a lock on your combadges; there's so much organic material there!"

---

"Then get whoever you can back to the Nexus!" Anzyl shouted, amidst the stampede of people fleeing the arena.

The wave of tribbles enveloped the crowds in its path. Veirik, realizing the danger, knew he had to act quickly to ensure the safety of his landing party. Using his superhuman strength and agility, he grabbed one in each arm, he hoisted Anzyl and Nolan by their waists and leaped to the safer upper floor.

Landing with a thud on the upper balcony of the arena, they surveyed the situation below, witnessing the growing sea of fur balls.

"Hey… are these tribbles herbivores?" Veirik inquired, watching people flail and scream amidst the sea of furballs.

"In their native habitat, yes," Nolan replied, "However, these are modified and specially bred tribbles?..." His expression turned grim, "and I did see 'Heart of Targ' and other omnivorous feeding options down on the show floor…"

Anzyl's face fell with dread as they looked over the sea of fur. "Omnivores… so every person in this entire space station just became…" He sighed heavily. "Food."