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Joe hummed softly to himself, aware of the other officers around him. Checking by room was all good and well but he could still see the odd scuff...the odd fleck of blood. "He definitely came this way. And he's still shedding blood. Might be his own too."

"And maybe we talk the man down." He suggested in a soft voice, his rifle at the ready none the less. He took out his own personal little flashlight, shining it down the corridor and checking for booby traps.

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Emerald watched as Zuub prepped a handful of hyposprays. She snagged one quickly, shrugging slightly as she tucked it away. Didn't matter what was in it. It wasn't her substance of choice after all.

"What way?" she asked quietly. Her head was beginning to pound. Not a surprise either. It'd been several hours since her last fix. "And what do you recommend we do?"

Emerald rubbed the bracelet wrapped around her wrist. "I'm concerned about what will happen once he starts withdrawal. Stimulant withdrawal can create a sense of despair that is almost impossible to break through. Opiates make people wired when they start coming out of the system, and they hurt. A lot."

She rubbed the back of her neck slowly. "A lot, a lot," she repeated softly. It's alright Em, you'll get through it, she told herself.

TAG - Zuub.

Zayna spun around slowly, looking in all directions with the light attached to the rifle. After that sound it got quiet, way to quiet. Turning back to where the sound had come from, she inched her way towards it.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

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"Do you hear it?" He asked them, raising one hand to tap the blunt end of a gore coloured scalpel against his temple. "The Voice? Did it tell you to do things too? Things you knew were wrong, but you did without question? Did The Voice take your choices too? Did The Voice make you kill your captain too?"

The engineers feet connected with the phaser rifle, but he seemed only to register after a moment of distraction. Of course if he got the chance to look down fully he'd see the weapon, might even try to pick it up.

Emerald spun around to stare at the man who'd entered the room. Her hands fell to her side, open and obviously safe. She stepped away from Zuub, so that there was more chance of the Andorian getting away if this got ugly. Emerald had no doubts in her mind about which one of them Starfleet would prefer survived.

"It's a boring voice, isn't it?" she commented quietly. "Tells you to make things bloody, tells you to make things messy, and it's never there to keep you company when things go wrong." Still moving, she didn't stop talking in the same low voice. "I hate it. Hate how it curls around my senses until I can't hear anything else. Hate how it makes me feel like I'm useless, so I need to rend things apart until they can shut it up! We'll get through it together, and for the record.. I ain't strung out and ready to wrangle. I ain't in a scrobblin' mood."

She glanced at Zuub, hoping that she'd get the message that Emerald wasn't high, and wasn't expecting withdrawal. She hadn't used long enough for that to be a problem.

"Now, what we goin' to do about the need to shut the voice up?" She asked the man standing between her and Zuub. "What you need soldier?"

Joe looked on, his rifle hanging loosely. Bringing it up would only likely lead to more problems.

"What is the voice telling you?" he asked in a calm voice. "I can't hear the Voice. But if you can tell us what it's telling you, we can help you."

He didn't add what they'd be helping him with. Medical assistance would be his preferred option.