In The Bleak Mid-Winter

Cold horizons force two of Odyssey's finest into a survival trip neither will forget.

In The Bleak Mid-Winter – 1

Ithaca (NCC-80000-23), Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78777

As the Ithaca hurtled through the atmosphere of the icy planet below, it bucked and shuddered violently, triggering warning alarms that blared from every console. The deafening screams of the alarms barely pierced through the overpowering roar of the engines struggling against the damage they had sustained from the subspace anomalies that had assaulted the ship moments ago.

Tomaz gripped the controls with white-knuckled intensity, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he wrestled to keep the shuttle from spiralling out of control.

“Tomaz, we’re losing power!” Flemen shouted from the co-pilot’s voice cut through the cacophony, his tone tinged with urgency and dread. Flemen’s fingers danced over the auxiliary systems, desperately trying to redirect the scant power to the stabilisers. Despite his frantic efforts, the ship was tearing itself apart.

“Hold on!” Tomaz yelled back, sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled to level the descent. He took one deep breath, his determination to survive fueling his actions. He couldn’t let this be the end, not when his son, S’Tem, was waiting for him on the Odyssey. Pain hit his chest as he realised that if this was it, he had left his son alone. 

The planet’s surface loomed large in the forward viewport, a blur of white and blue as they hurtled toward the ground at a terrifying speed. The controls jerked in Tomaz’s hands, responding sluggishly, and he knew they were mere moments from impact.

Taking one quick glance to his left, Tomaz saw the fright plastered across his friend’s face. He could almost hear Flemen’s heart pounding in his chest and saw every muscle in his body tense as he braced for the inevitable. 

“Tomaz, we’re coming in too fast!”

Returning his focus back to his work, Tomaz’s jaw clenched as he fought against the ship’s failing systems. “I’m trying to slow us down, but the thrusters—” A violent jolt cut off the sentence as the shuttle hit the upper layers of the planet’s atmosphere. The hull groaned under the stress, the metal creaking ominously as the temperature outside spiked from re-entry.

Suddenly, the cockpit was filled with blinding light as sparks flew from the console before Tomaz. The ship pitched sideways, sending both men lurching against their restraints. Flemen’s hand slammed into the console as he tried to regain control of the auxiliary power, but the display flickered. “I’m launching the distress beacon.” 

Fired from its aft compartment, the beacon shot out from the type-fourteen shuttle at incredible speed as it escaped from the commotion.

“Beacon away. However, I’m not sure if it will get a message to the Odyssey with those subspace anomalies,” Flemen added.

“It’s better than nothing, Craigen,” Tomaz said through gritted teeth. There was nothing more they could do. Tomaz knew this could be it for them both, but he clung to a sliver of hope. “Brace for impact!” Tomaz shouted, his voice barely audible over the orchestra of alarms and the roar of the wind as the Ithaca plummeted toward the ground.

The planet’s frozen surface rushed up to meet them, and in those final moments, Tomaz could only close his eyes and cling to the hope that they would somehow survive the crash. The runabout hit the ground with a bone-jarring impact, skidding across the ice at breakneck speed. Metal screamed in protest as the ship was torn apart by the force of the crash, shards of ice and snow spraying up around them in a blinding flurry.

Tomaz was thrown forward against his restraints as the ship came to a sudden, jarring stop. The force of the impact knocked the breath from his lungs, and for a moment, everything was a blur of pain and confusion. The sound of the crashing metal echoed in his ears, gradually fading into an eerie silence.


When the world finally stopped spinning, Flemen forced his eyes open, his heart still pounding in his chest. The cockpit was dark, the only light coming from the weak flicker of the emergency power systems. The bitter cold was already seeping in, and his breath fogged in the air as he struggled to focus.

“Tomaz?” Flemen’s voice was hoarse, his throat dry as he turned toward the pilot’s seat. His stomach clenched in fear as he saw his friend slumped forward, a deep gash on his side and blood staining the front of his uniform.

“Tomaz!” Flemen shouted, his voice breaking with panic. He reached out, shaking Tomaz’s shoulder, but there was no response. Desperation surged through Flemen as he fumbled with the restraints, his fingers numb from the cold and trembling with fear. Finally, he managed to free himself and hurriedly reached for the medkit stowed beneath his seat.

With shaking hands, Flemen activated the tricorder, scanning Tomaz’s injuries. The readings were grim—concussion, internal bleeding, and a severe loss of blood. Flemen’s breath hitched as he realised the severity of the situation, but he forced himself to focus. He wasn’t about to lose his best friend.

“Stay with me, Tomaz,” Flemen muttered as he pulled out a dermal regenerator and began treating the wound. The small device hummed to life as it worked to seal the gash, but it could only do so much. Though his advanced field medic training from his days as a Hazard Team member was rushing back to him, he couldn’t help but panic more. Taking a deep breath, Flemen knew he had to calm himself down. Flemen knew he needed to stabilise Tomaz and fast.

With the bleeding under control, he administered a hypospray of stabilising agents, hoping it would buy them enough time. “Come on, buddy, you’re tougher than this,” Flemen whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. “We’ve been through worse.”

“Craigen,” Tomaz said slowly and barely conscious. His blueish-green eyes fluttered open slowly, gazing at Flemen. “We made it?” he croaked, his voice filled with a mix of relief and exhaustion.

With a slight smile, Flemen nodded, trying to remain optimistic about their current situation. “Just about.”

Tomaz tried to move but was struck down with a bolt of pain. 

Resting his hands on Tomaz to calm him, Flemen pressured his friend back into his seat. “Don’t move, Tomaz; you’re in a bad state.”

“So’s the shuttle,” Tomaz coughed before he shivered. 

Outside, the wind howled, and the temperature continued to plummet. Flemen felt the icy breeze hit the back of his neck. “Stay with me, Tomaz; let me grab some of the arctic gear out of storage.”

Tomaz just nodded weakly. The colour in his face was slowly draining away, forcing Flemen to work as fast as he could. After raiding what he could find in the shuttle’s storage, Flemen returned and carefully dressed Tomaz in the Arctic gear.

“You still with me, commander?” Flemen asked as he buttoned his friend into the long coat and slowly pulled the hood around him.

Tomaz mumbled something back.

“I didn’t hear that, commander,” Flemen responded. “I order you to respond.”

Chuckling somewhat, Tomaz tried to sit up and be more with it. “You can’t order me.”

“I think I can,” Flemen responded as he started to put gloves on Tomaz’s hands.

“No,” Tomaz protested. “We’re both the same rank.”

“And you’re the Odyssey’s second officer, and I’m its third officer; who gives a crap right now, Tomaz. You’re injured, and I’m left standing which technically speaking makes me the commanding officer of this mission.” 

Smirking at his friend, Tomaz attempted to salute him, “Yes, sir.”

“Better,” Flemen said with a grin. “And you need to survive this for that godson of mine.” Flemen knew that would give Tomaz the surge to do something.

“I know,” Tomaz replied weakly. “I shouldn’t have left him alone.”

“Come on, Tomaz, don’t do this to me,” Flemen insisted as he pulled his friend’s hood over his head. “I need you to remain focussed on staying alive. You know S’Tem is in good hands and he will be expecting to see you back on the Odyssey alive and well.”

Tomaz nodded as he tried to speak; his breath was catching every word. “You think Alfie and Jordan will charge me more for babysitting him a bit longer?”

“Absolutely,” Flemen responded as he started to put his own gear on. “And I’m certain that Doctor Slyvexs and Professor Mettex have loved having S’Tem stay with them.”

Flemen noticed Tomaz appreciating the sentiments he was sharing. Before they had left the Odyssey a few days ago to help Commodore McCallister with his negotiations with the Zahl, Tomaz had asked the ship’s chief medical officer and her husband to look after S’Tem while he was away. He had also arranged for Cadets McCallister and Duncan-Court to babysit for them each evening after S’Tem had finished school. Alongside that Tierra and Keli had both agreed to help out if it was needed. Tomaz had shared after leaving the Odyssey how grateful he was to his friends and colleagues for helping out. 

After wrapping his Starfleet-issued scarf around his neck, Flemen covered Tomaz in a thermal blanket, securing it tightly to keep the warmth in. The cold was relentless, and it wouldn’t be long before the inside of the runabout became just as unforgiving as the frozen wasteland outside. He pulled another blanket around himself. 

Flemen knew they couldn’t stay in the wreckage for long. The ship was dead, its systems offline, and the chances of anyone finding them out here were slim at best. His mind raced as he tried to formulate a plan, the weight of Tomaz’s survival pressing down on him like a stack of torpedoes. 

“All right,” he said. “We’ve got to find shelter. Somewhere warmer.” Flemen’s gaze flicked to the cracked viewport, where the icy landscape stretched out as far as he could see, an endless expanse of white.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Flemen grabbed what supplies he could from the wreckage and fashioned a makeshift stretcher/sledge. Fueled by adrenaline and fear, he worked quickly.

“Craigen, what are you doing?” Tomaz asked in between breaths.

“The shuttle can’t sustain us,” Flemen replied as he worked on his tricorder. “I’m detecting a series of caverns at the base of some hills not far from here. If I can get us there, we can survive better there.”

Sighing in agony, Tomaz tried to sit up straighter in his chair. “I can barely walk, Craigen. I won’t make it.”

“That’s okay, I’m going to carry you on this,” Flemen gestured towards the stretcher he had made by pulling apart one of the bunks. 

Tomaz chuckled. “You can’t carry me; I’m too heavy for you.”

“Oh shut up, you weigh five pounds less than me, and between the two of us, I spend more time in the gym. I can tug that skinny ass of yours across the snow with ease,” Flemen assured his friend. “And anyway, I’m making this an order. We’re abandoning ship.”

“Aye, captain,” Tomaz said, resting his head on his chair. It was apparent he couldn’t fight his friend. “Also, thanks for saying I have a skinny ass.”

Flemen chuckled. “No problems, but when we return to the Odyssey, you’re getting back on that treadmill. Don’t think I didn’t notice that slight dad-bod you’ve got growing.”

“I have not got a dad-bod!” Tomaz protested. 

“You’ve left yourself go in recent months, Tomaz,” Flemen teased as he finished packing the last of the supplies they would need. He pushed a tricorder into one of his pockets and a phaser into the other. “But it’s all expected; you’re comfortable at home with being a single dad.”

Tomaz laughed, “You’re an asshole, you know that Craigen.”

“But an extremely muscular and fine-looking asshole,” Flemen countered back as he approached his friend. “Ready for me to haul your ass?”

Rolling his eyes, Tomaz nodded. “Fine, but can we stop talking about your ass and mine. It’s getting weird.”

Realising he was right, Flemen agreed. “I promise to cut hostilities.” He leant down and picked his friend into his arms before carefully plopping him down on the sledge. “You ready?”

“Let’s go,” Tomaz consented as he glanced around the shuttle. There wasn’t much more they could take to help them. Flemen had placed everything they would need in the sledge under Tomaz’s legs and feet. 

Once Tomaz was secured, Flemen braced himself and dragged the sledge out of the ruined shuttle into the blinding cold of the storm outside.

In The Bleak Mid-Winter – 2

Unknown Planet, Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78777.4

The wind lashed at him, biting through his uniform and numbing his fingers, but he pressed forward with an unwavering determination to find safety for them both. Every step was a struggle, the snow thick and treacherous beneath his feet. Flemen’s muscles burned with the effort, and his lungs ached with the cold, but he refused to stop. Tomaz’s life hung in the balance, and Flemen was not about to let him slip away.

Hours seemed to blur together as Flemen trudged through the snow, his thoughts focused solely on survival. Finally, just as exhaustion threatened to overtake him, he spotted a dark shape in the distance—a cave carved into the side of a snow-covered hill. The sight of the cave sparked a glimmer of hope in Flemen’s heart, a beacon of potential safety in the midst of the unforgiving landscape. 

“Finally,” Flemen shouted with a sense of joy. He turned to look over his shoulder. “Tomaz, I see our new accommodation ahead.”

Tomaz, who was wrapped up, put both thumbs up in response. Along their trek, Flemen had stopped regularly to check on him, and though the treatment he had given Tomaz had saved his life back in the shuttle, he wasn’t getting any better and needed access to proper medical care. 

With the cave ahead of him, a spark of hope ignited within Flemen. He pushed himself harder, dragging Tomaz the last few meters until they reached the cave. Stumbling inside, he nearly collapsed from the effort, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The cave was cold but out of the wind, a welcome respite from the biting cold and a temporary sanctuary from the elements.

Yanking on the sledge, Flemen brought Tomaz as far into the cave as possible without losing too much natural light but far enough to use a vast bolder as a natural windbreak. Taking out his tricorder, Flemen scanned the shelter to ensure it was completely safe. Once the tricorder gave him the green light, he put the device back into his pocket and took out his phaser from the other one. One at a time, he pointed to the number of small boulders dotted around the room and fired at them all. With a few zaps from the phaser, the heat started to pour from them. He moved several smaller rocks in the centre of the room before he whipped out an instant fire starter kit. Straight away, he started to feel warmer. 

He pulled Tomaz closer to the warmth. “That better, Tomaz?”

Nodding twice, Tomaz answered with a weak tone in his voice. “A lot warmer, thanks, Craigen.” 

Taking out the med kit from their sledge, Flemen rummaged for the tricorder. Once he opened the device, he scanned his friend. The tricorder made it clear that Tomaz was in a weakened state. Pulling out the hypospray, Flemen loaded it up with a concoction of medicine to give his friend some energy and relief from his agony. “Something to keep you going,” Flemen said, showing the hypospray, before he leant forward and pushed Tomaz’s scarf out of the way so he could inject his friend in his neck.

“Thanks,” Tomaz said out of alleviation. 

“Give me a shout if you need anything while I set up our camp,” Flemen said as he got to work.

Tomaz, again, just nodded.

After setting up a large sheet to block the rest of the cold coming into the cave, putting a four-man pop-up tent up, getting their emergency beacon operational, and then moving on to make some dinner from field rations, Flemen could feel his body yelling out in exhaustion from everything. Ignoring it, he wouldn’t stop until he knew they were safe. 

Once they had eaten, Flemen went over to where there was a gap between the sheet and the cave wall. Peering through it, Flemen noticed that darkness had started to fall over where they were. Nighttime was coming, and he knew that meant it would get colder. 

After cracking some glowsticks to help keep their abode lit with shade, Flemen once again fired his phaser against the boulders he had used earlier to generate some heat. Knowing they would be here for some time, they needed to keep themselves warm. 

Flemen looked over at Tomaz, who sat inside the tent. “It doesn’t look like anyone is out there yet to rescue us,” He muttered. 

“Hey, I thought you told me we had to remain optimistic,” Tomaz said between breaths. 

“I did,” Flemen responded. “I did say yet.” 

Tomaz smirked. “I’m tired; you must be too, Craigen.”

Flemen nodded. He couldn’t deny that, so he sat down beside his friend when Tomaz pattered the makeshift seats that Flemen had created out of the shuttle’s bunk he had taken apart. 

The howling wind outside the cave had subsided into a distant moan, leaving behind a stillness that felt almost eerie in its quiet. 

Flemen sat with his arms wrapped protectively around Tomaz, who lay motionless beside him. He was now fast asleep, and after checking him once over with the tricorder, Flemen was pleased to see Tomaz’s vitals stabilising. The thermal blankets weren’t enough on their own, so Flemen had pulled Tomaz close, using his own body heat to keep his friend warm. He could feel the steady, albeit faint, rise and fall of Tomaz’s chest, and it was this rhythm that finally allowed him to close his eyes, his exhaustion catching up with him.

Sleep was a fragile thing, coming in brief, fitful snatches. Every time Flemen’s head nodded forward, his mind would jolt him awake, the weight of their situation crashing down on him all over again. But eventually, fatigue won out, and Flemen slipped into an uneasy slumber, his arms still holding Tomaz close.

The cave was silent, save for the crackling of the fire and the occasional drip of melting ice from the ceiling. Darkness pressed in around them, thick and suffocating, broken only by the dim glow of the flames and the glowsticks trying their hardest to be a source of light. Time lost all meaning as Flemen slept, his body and mind desperately seeking the rest they so badly needed. The silence was welcoming as Flemen felt himself fall further into sleep. Not even their distress beacon made a noise as it operated in the background.

But the silence didn’t last.

A low, almost indistinguishable sound began to echo through the cave, so faint at first that it blended with the natural sounds of the ice shifting above them. It was a rhythmic thumping, growing louder and more distinct with each passing moment. It reverberated through the cave walls, a steady, deliberate tempo. 

Flemen stirred, furrowing his brow as the noise filtered through his subconscious. His grip on Tomaz tightened instinctively, and his eyes fluttered open, blinking against the darkness. For a moment, he was disoriented, unsure if the sound was authentic or just a product of his dreams. But as the noise grew louder and more insistent, he knew it was no figment of his imagination.

Something or someone was out there.

Flemen’s heart began to race, his senses sharpening as the fog of sleep lifted. He couldn’t sense anyone with his limited empathic abilities. He carefully disentangled himself from Tomaz, trying not to disturb his friend as he reached for one of the phaser rifles that he had salvaged from the wreckage. The weapon felt cold and reassuring in his hand, though he couldn’t shake the fear that it might not be enough. He charged it up, and as he did, he heard Tomaz stir.

“Craigen, what is it?” Tomaz croaked in a soft, drowsy tone.

Whispering, Flemen told Tomaz to stay still as he could hear something. He passed Tomaz the other phaser rifle and took out his tricorder to see if whatever was making the noise could be scanned. 

Nothing was coming up.

“Stay here,” Flemen ordered Tomaz as he got up, unzipped the tent’s door and left to check out the source of the noise.

The thumping was closer now, accompanied by a series of low, growling noises that sent a shiver down his spine. Flemen crept toward the mouth of the cave, moving slowly to avoid making any noise that might give away their position. His breath came in shallow gasps, fogging in the frigid air as he crouched low, peering out into the snowstorm that raged beyond the cave.

At first, all he could see was the swirling white of the storm, the wind whipping up snow in blinding gusts. But then, as his eyes adjusted, he caught sight of movement—dark shapes emerging from the blizzard. Their forms were large and unclear against the backdrop of ice and snow. It was hard to distinguish them at all, and the night sky did not help. 

Flemen’s grip on the phaser tightened as he watched the figures approach. There were three of them, their silhouettes hulking and vaguely humanoid, though their proportions were wrong, too broad, too heavy. They moved with a purpose, their steps heavy and deliberate, each one sending that unsettling thumping sound echoing through the ice. 

Flemen swallowed hard, his mind racing. The aliens were clearly searching for something, and it wouldn’t be long before they found the cave. He glanced back to where he had set up base camp and wondered if there was a way he could disguise it. He just didn’t have the time. 

Flemen’s thoughts tumbled over one another as he tried to decide what to do. They couldn’t stay hidden in the cave, and the aliens would eventually find them. But Tomaz was in no condition to move, let alone make it through the storm. And if these creatures were hostile, any confrontation would likely end in disaster.

The noises grew louder as the aliens drew closer, their heavy footfalls now echoing off the cave walls. Flemen’s pulse quickened, his fear mounting. He couldn’t let them find Tomaz—couldn’t let them take him. His mind raced, trying to devise a plan. He could try to draw the aliens away, using himself as bait to lead them off into the storm. It was a reckless idea, but it might be the only way to keep Tomaz safe. 

Flemen took out his tricorder to see if it registered their life signs. Still nothing. Either they were using some cloaking technology that could hide their life signs, or they could naturally camouflage themselves with the cold surroundings. 

However, a sudden, sharp noise cut through the air before he could implement the plan. An alien cry echoed through the cave, sending a terror jolt through Flemen’s heart. He froze, his breath hitching as he realised the creatures had found something outside. His mind raced through numerous possibilities. Had he or Tomaz dropped something in the snow? Or was it the tracks of the sledge? Flemen couldn’t recall them losing anything that he had loaded up into their kit. Most of it was now sprawled across the cave’s floor or in their tent, secured away for them to access.  

The aliens let out another series of deep cries, and Flemen could hear them moving faster now. Their heavy steps pounded against the ice as they converged on a single point just outside the cave. For a moment, Flemen was paralysed with fear, his mind filled with the horrifying possibilities of what might happen next. 

Shaking his head, Flemen knew he had to once again rely on his Hazard Team training. Pressing a few buttons on his rifle, he set it to wide beam stun, so if and when he has to attack, he can hopefully take the aliens out in one shot. 

Then, as quickly as it had started, the noise stopped. The sudden silence was eerie, and Flemen strained to hear any sign of what the aliens were doing. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on their thoughts. But there was nothing: no footsteps, no gruff voices, no sign of movement. 

Nothing. 

Flemen’s heart raced in the oppressive quiet, his mind reeling. Were the aliens gone? Or were they lying in wait, hoping to lure him into a trap?

He remained crouched at the mouth of the cave; his phaser rifle clutched tightly in his hand. Minutes passed, though it felt like hours, and still, there was no sign of the aliens. The storm continued to howl outside, but the alien threat had seemingly vanished as quickly as it had appeared. 

Had he imagined it? Was he dreaming or going crazy? Flemen didn’t know what to believe. Slowly, he began to relax, though his body remained tense and alert. He needed to check on Tomaz to ensure his friend was still safe, but some of him was reluctant to move. The danger hadn’t passed, and any mistake now could be fatal.

Finally, he forced himself to turn away from the cave entrance, his eyes lingering on the darkened landscape outside for a moment longer. He crept back to where Tomaz lay in their tent, the fire still burning weakly outside their makeshift home. 

The sight of his friend brought a rush of emotions—relief that he was still alive, fear for what might happen next, and a fierce determination to protect him at all costs.

“Anything?” Tomaz whispered, still clutching the phaser rifle that Flemen had handed him earlier.

Shaking his head, Flemen knelt beside Tomaz, his heart aching as he looked down at his friend. “No, but I promise you, Tomaz, we’re going to get out of this,” he whispered back, though the words felt hollow in the face of the unknown danger lurking just outside. “I promise.”

But even as he said it, the uncertainty gnawed at him. The aliens were still out there, somewhere in the storm, and it was only a matter of time before they returned. He was sure of it. 

“Have you got those portable force field generators?” Tomaz asked, interrupting Flemen’s worries.

Flemen nodded. “I think so, why?”

“Set them up by that boulder,” Tomaz said, pointing his phaser to the boulder, shielding them from the wind. “It will stop them trying to come in. Give us some defence.”

Liking the idea, Flemen rummaged through the bag of survival gear he had torn from the shuttlecraft. At the bottom of it, he found the field emitters that Tomaz had suggested. “You’re not just a pretty face, huh?” Flemen said as he showed his friend his luck in finding them.

“That’s why I’m the strategic operations officer,” Tomaz said with a frail smirk. 

With hesitation, Flemen went to work and used his tricorder to activate the field. It sparkled into life and covered their entrance with an invisible screen.

“Any other ideas?” Flemen asked his friend.

Tomaz shook his head. “Nothing right now.”

“It will do for now, I suppose,” Flemen relented. He used his tricorder one more time, attempting to scan their surroundings. “Whoever made that noise, I can’t detect them.”

“Maybe something outside scared them off,” Tomaz remarked. He looked up at Flemen. “Craigen, you look exhausted.”

He couldn’t deny that. Flemen felt his mind racing, but every muscle cried out in pain from the lack of sleep. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“I know I may not be in a fit state to resume seniority here, but I’m telling you to get your ass over here and rest,” Tomaz said, trying to find the energy to pronounce each word.

“Hey, I thought we agreed no more discussing of asses,” Flemen said as he walked over to the tent and got back in it. 

“Well, stop being an ass and rest,” Tomaz urged his friend with a smirk. His own exhaustion was pulling him down again. 

Flemen knew he had to rest, to conserve his strength for whatever lay ahead. He leaned back against the makeshift chair, drawing the blankets more tightly around him and Tomaz, and let his fatigue take over once more. Pulling Tomaz back into his arms, he knew he had to conserve his energy if they were going to survive this. He had to find a way to get them out of this.

“By the way, you don’t tell anyone we snuggled while we were here,” Flemen pointed out to his friend, who had his head on his chest.

“What happens in the cave stays in the cave,” Tomaz said, reaching over Flemen’s waist. “S’Tem is right; you are good to cuddle. Perhaps you’ve got some god-dad bod going on there!”

Chuckling at hearing Tomaz use his own words against him, Flemen shook his head. “I swear you better survive this, Tomaz, as I deserve a medal for putting up with you.”

“I don’t think so,” Tomaz muttered. “You owe me anyway.”

“I do?”

Tomaz mumbled an agreeing noise. “I saved you almost this time last year with Princess.”

“Ah, our baby telepathic pitcher plant,” Flemen recalled the incident too well. The space-dwelling lifeform they had nicknamed ‘Princess’ had been infected by blood dilithium, no thanks to the Devore, and in return, the bio-plasmic creature had taken control of most of the telepathic crewmembers on the Odyssey. They had mutined against McCallister, and if it hadn’t been Counsellor Horin linking with the baby telepathic pitcher plant, then none of them would have survived it. Flemen and the other telepaths on board had felt awful after their possession had ended. He had isolated himself from everyone else to recover, but Tomaz and his son S’Tem didn’t let him feel alone as he came to terms with what he did while under the influence of the telepathic creature. The two had rescued him by having breakfast with him, plenty of visits to the holodeck to play numerous holo novels, and while S’Tem slept at night, Tomaz had taken Flemen to the ship’s gym to help him release the inner rage he felt from being violated and used without his permission. If it wasn’t the gym they entertained, then it was having a few drinks in the private confines of Tomaz’s quarters while talking about the whole experience. 

Realising how right Tomaz was, Flemen looked down at his friend. “You’re right. You saved me, so I must do the same for you.”

Tomaz didn’t answer. He had fallen asleep, and his light snore was barely noticeable. 

The last thing Flemen heard as he drifted back to sleep was the distant howl of the wind outside. The memory of the alien cries haunted the edge of his consciousness, but with Tomaz beside him, Flemen allowed himself a moment of fragile peace.

Flemen pulled his phaser rifle closer to him before his eyes finally closed.

In The Bleak Mid-Winter – 3

USS Odyssey (NCC-80000), Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78777.57

The soft hum of the Odyssey’s bridge was punctuated by the occasional chirps of consoles and quiet conversations between officers. Lieutenant junior grade Samwell Bollwyn, the ship’s new Chief Communications Officer, was perched at his station, his fingers hovering over the console as he carefully monitored the ship’s subspace communications. The young Ventaxian was focused and determined to prove his recent promotion was well-deserved. 

Having served as a science officer on the USS Columbia since graduation, Bollwyn had transferred to the Odyssey at Deep Space 19 only weeks before, but already he was working hard to ensure he knew every system on the ship inside and out. Though he would have never considered a role in communications, his recent performance review had encouraged him to push himself further out of his comfort zone. He had taken several languages at Starfleet Academy, but it didn’t make him a linguistic expert. However, he knew that was not a big part of the job. Bollwyn’s recent leadership experience on the Columbia and helping Captain Corbin prevent delegates from the Delta Quadrant from going to war with one another factor that had supported him in applying for the job. Though he had never thought he would get it, especially as he had not run a department, Bollwyn was surprised when he received the news that he had got the job. His department was the smallest one on the Odyssey. Bollwyn wasn’t expecting to get the job; however, with Captain Corbin being an old friend of Captain Duncan’s, Bollwyn appreciated the glowing reference letter his former commanding officer had sent to his new one. 

Despite the late hour, Bollwyn hadn’t left the bridge since alpha shift had ended several hours ago. He had been taking extra shifts to familiarise himself with the Odyssey’s systems and protocols. His new role was demanding, and he intended to be ready for anything. 

As he reviewed long-range scans and communications logs, Bollwyn couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out of place. His blueish-green eyes scanned the data, double-checking every line of information. Suddenly, the sound of the turbolift doors opening broke his concentration. He looked up to see Lieutenant Commander Elddie Paynkor, the Odyssey’s Mazerite chief flight control officer, striding onto the bridge with a broad smile.

Paynkor walked across the room with his usual air of confidence. His short, sandy brown hair was neatly styled, framing a strong jawline that added to his already commanding presence. Piercing blue eyes scanned the room, capturing every detail with a calm yet intense focus. At over six feet tall, Paynkor was similar to Bollwyn’s height, but his broader shoulders and muscular build set him apart. He knew he was attractive—gorgeous, even—and his easy smile hinted at the flirtatious charm he wielded effortlessly. It wasn’t uncommon for him to flash that smile at anyone who caught his eye, a habit that had already earned him a reputation across the ship. But beneath the playful exterior, there was a seriousness to Paynkor’s demeanour when duty called. 

Bollwyn could see why others on the crew liked him. He was attractive, but Bollwyn wasn’t interested in seeing anyone at this point in his life. He had left that all behind on the Columbia. Now, Bollwyn wanted to focus on his career. A fresh start without any distractions. 

Paynkor carried a PADD under his arm. It likely contained the latest helm report to be submitted to Starfleet in the next datastream. Bollwyn had started working on the datastream, which he had mentioned in this morning’s staff briefing. 

“Hey, Lieutenant,” Paynkor greeted cheerfully as he approached Bollwyn’s station. “You’ve been here for a while. Thought you’d be off-duty by now.”

Bollwyn looked up and gave a weak smile. “Oh, Commander Paynkor. I was just reviewing some communications data, ensuring everything’s in order.”

Paynkor raised an eyebrow, amused. “Going above and beyond, huh? You know, it’s okay to take a break every now and then.”

Bollwyn smiled nervously, feeling a little self-conscious. “I just want to be prepared, sir. There’s much to learn, and I don’t want to miss anything. The Odyssey is a lot different to the Columbia.”

“Well, that’s admirable,” Paynkor said, nodding. “But don’t burn yourself out. How about you join me for a drink in the Auditorium? It’ll do you good to relax a bit.”

Bollwyn hesitated, torn between the desire to impress his superiors and the genuine need for a break.  “I appreciate the offer, sir, but I planned on hitting the gym before calling it a night.”

Paynkor’s face lit up. “The gym, huh? That’s great! I’m a bit of a regular there myself.” He flexed his biceps playfully. “Could always use a new gym buddy. What do you say?”

Before Bollwyn could respond, his console emitted a high-pitched beep, catching both officers’ attention. Bollwyn’s fingers flew over the controls, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the new data coming in.

“Commander, I’m picking up a distress call,” Bollwyn said, his voice suddenly tense. “It’s faint, but it’s definitely there.”

Paynkor’s jovial demeanour instantly shifted to one of concern. “Can you identify the source?”

Bollwyn’s hands moved quickly over the controls, pulling up the signal’s origin and verifying its frequency. His heart sank as the data became apparent. “It’s coming from the shuttle belonging to Commanders Flemen and Tomaz. It’s a standard Starfleet distress message via their distress beacon.”

Paynkor leaned in, his expression serious. “They were only returning from the Constitution. What happened?”

“There’s not much in the message. It looks like their shuttle took damage while at warp and has crash-landed on a planet,” Bollwyn said, his voice tight with worry. “The signal is weak, which means something could be preventing it from reaching us fully.”

Paynkor’s mind raced as he processed the information. “We need to act fast. Can you pinpoint their location?”

“Working on it,” Bollwyn replied, his fingers dancing across the controls. He brought up the star charts and triangulated the signal. “Got it. The signal comes from a planet in an unexplored system, not far from our current position. About four light years away.”

Paynkor tapped his combadge. “Paynkor to Captain Duncan. We’ve received a distress call from Commanders Tomaz and Flemen. They’ve crash-landed on a planet in a nearby system.”

Captain Duncan’s voice came through the comm with an authoritative calmness. “Understood. I’m on my way to the bridge. Prepare to set a course and keep monitoring that signal. I want constant updates.”

“Aye, sir,” Paynkor replied formally.

As the channel closed, Paynkor turned to Bollwyn. “Looks like your instincts were right to stay on the bridge. We’ll get them back, Lieutenant.”

Bollwyn nodded the weight of the situation settling over him. “Yes, sir. I’ll do everything I can to help.” Bollwyn now wondered just if he could be of any help, and for the first time in ages, he wished he was back on the Columbia in the safe confines of his bunk doing ‘lower deck’ stuff or sitting in a mud bath with particular blue collared ensign.  


The holodeck shimmered around them, casting the perfect illusion of a warm Parisian evening atop the Eiffel Tower. Captain Duncan and Commander Court sat at a small, elegantly set table, bathed in the soft golden glow coming from the city’s lights. The Paris skyline stretched out before them, a breathtaking tapestry of twinkling lights and iconic landmarks. It was the perfect backdrop for a quiet, romantic evening—a simple date night that Court had arranged for them with no special occasion in mind, just a chance to be together and unwind.

Duncan enjoyed their chances to have ‘date night’ and get dressed up for a romantic moment. Court had told him earlier that he looked dashing in his navy blue suit, the tailored fabric hugging his broad shoulders and tapering down to a crisp white shirt underneath. A sleek tie in a subtle shade of silver completed the look, giving him an air of understated elegance. Sitting across from him, Court (in Duncan’s mind) was equally handsome in his deep burgundy suit, the rich colour contrasting perfectly with his fair complexion. His suit was paired with a black shirt, open at the collar.

As they both admired the view, holding each other’s hand, their holographic waiter appeared silently by their side, a bottle of champagne in hand. With practised ease, the waiter topped off their flutes, the bubbles rising to the surface in a delicate stream. Duncan smiled his thanks before turning his attention back to his husband, who had a warm, contented look on his face.

“This is perfect, Tobie,” Duncan said as he released his grip to sip his champagne. “I’m glad you thought of this.”

Court grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “Well, it’s not every day we get to enjoy Paris from this height. I thought it might be nice to escape for a bit, even if it’s just on the holodeck.”

Duncan nodded appreciatively, glancing out at the City of Lights before returning his gaze to his husband. “You always know how to make a regular night feel extraordinary, Tobie.” He lifted his glass. “To us.”

They clinked their glasses, the soft chime blending with the distant sounds of the city. After taking a sip, Court leaned forward, his expression shifting to one of amusement. “By the way, I meant to tell you—Jordan’s babysitting tonight.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow, setting his flute down. “Babysitting? For whom?”

“Tomaz’s son, S’Tem. While he and Craigen are helping the commodore with that diplomatic mission with the Zahl, remember he asked if Jordan could watch him when Doctor Slyvexs was on duty or busy. And before you ask, he’s not alone. Alfie is with him.”

Duncan couldn’t help but smirk as he set his glass down. “Alfie, huh? Those two seem to be spending a lot of time together. I’m telling you, Tobie, they’re dating. I can see it in the way they look at each other.”

Court laughed, shaking his head. “You’re reading too much into it, Max. They’re just good friends. Besides, I’ve heard a rumour that Alfie is seeing one of the newer cadets—Scott Florrick. They’re dorm buddies and have been seen spending a lot of time studying together. In fact, they were pretty pally with one another in this morning’s training session.”

Duncan chuckled, leaning in slightly. “As Alfie’s godfather, you know you should be the one to pass this ‘intelligence’ on to the commodore. I’m sure James and Karyn would love to hear about their son’s love life.”

Court raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful glint in his eyes. “I may be Alfie’s godfather, but I’m not touching that conversation with a ten-foot pole. Especially not while the commodore’s away on the Constitution.”

Duncan grinned playfully. “Chicken.”

“Proudly,” Court quipped back before his expression softened. “But I’m not getting involved. Besides, I still can’t believe Jordan and Alfie are already second-year cadets. Where did the time go?”

Duncan nodded thoughtfully, his expression softening. “I know. It feels like just yesterday, they were getting ready to start their training. Now look at them—young officers in the making. And speaking of officers, did William mention anything to you about wanting to join Starfleet?”

Court sighed heavily, his smile fading slightly as he considered the question. “I thought he was more interested in becoming a doctor. He’s been spending a lot of time volunteering in sickbay under Slyvex’s mentorship. I figured he’d go into medicine.”

Duncan leaned back in his chair, swirling the champagne in his glass. “I think that’s still the plan. From what he was hinting at this morning over breakfast, he wants to do it in Starfleet. Maybe he’s inspired by Jordan—or maybe by us or Slyvexs. Who knows?”

Court looked at Duncan with a mixture of pride and concern. “It’s not that I don’t want him to follow his dreams, but… as the training officer, I’d be responsible for training my own son. That’s a lot of pressure. At least Jordan had someone else start it off.”

“Are you referring to the changeling infiltrator or Karyn, who we thought had died saving the ship?” Duncan asked sarcastically. He reached across the table, taking Court’s hand in his. “We’ll figure it out, Tobie. We always do. But for now, let’s change the subject. Our dinner is here.”

The waiter returned with their meals—beautifully presented plates of Coq au Vin and Ratatouille; the aromas were rich and inviting. As they began to eat, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, including the Odyssey’s current mission.

“Do you think this binary pulsar study is just a way to keep us busy while Commodore McCallister deals with the Zahl and Captain Cambil’s off with the Krenim?” Court asked between bites.

Duncan shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not at all. With the Bellerophon and Destiny helping the Caatai refugees and the Triton and Orion exploring nearby unchartered space, we need to stay close. Besides, this mission might give us the perfect spot to set up a hyper-subspace communication relay. The pulsars could help bounce our signals back to Starfleet faster.”

Court raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical but willing to go along with it. “If you say so, Captain.”

Duncan chuckled, but before he could respond, a violinist approached their table, playing a soft, romantic melody. The sweet melodies of the music surrounded them, creating a perfect moment—until the intercom chimed, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere.

“Paynkor to Captain Duncan. We’ve received a distress call from Commanders Tomaz and Flemen. They’ve crash-landed on a planet in a nearby system.”

Duncan’s eyes met Court’s, the unspoken understanding passing between them. The evening was over, and duty called. “Understood. I’m on my way to the bridge. Prepare to set a course and keep monitoring that signal. I want constant updates.”

As the communication ended, Duncan stood, offering Court an apologetic smile. “Looks like our night is cut short.”

Court nodded, already rising from his seat. “Duty calls. We both need to be on the bridge for this.”

Duncan smiled, a mixture of pride and affection in his eyes. “Always a team, aren’t we?”

“Always,” Court replied, returning the smile as he straightened his burgundy suit jacket and called the computer to save the program and show them the way off the holodeck. 

The two of them quickly made their way to the holodeck exit, the Parisian skyline fading behind them as the program ended. The ship’s ambient sounds replaced the violin’s soft strains as they entered the corridor. They exchanged one last glance, silently acknowledging the sudden shift from a romantic evening to the emerging situation that awaited them.


The senior staff of the Odyssey gathered in the aft section of the bridge, their faces etched with concern as they discussed the distress call that had come in from Commanders Flemen and Tomaz. The normally bustling bridge was hushed, the situation’s urgency casting a heavy pall over the crew. Also only a few of them were still in their uniforms, while the rest where in their own civilian clothing. All of them dealing with their eveings being interupted by the emergency before them. Everyone was acutely aware of the stakes—the lives of two of their own hung in the balance.

Duncan stood at the head of the group, his gaze steady as he listened to the updates that his officers had. 

Bollwyn was the first to report to the group. “I’ve localised the distress signal, Captain. It’s coming from a small Class P world, but there’s something unusual about it.” Bollwyn activated a holographic projection of the planet before them all. “I’m still unable to determine what’s causing the delay in the signal reaching us. It feels like something is actively interfering with the transmission.”

Slyvexs leaned forward, her brow furrowed with concern. “Did the message indicate if either of them were injured?”

Bollwyn shook his head. “No, Doctor. The message was a standard distress call. It only provided the shuttle’s status and requested immediate assistance.”

Slyvexs sighed, her concern deepening. “A Class P world is far from ideal. The arctic conditions are severe, and if Tomaz’s breathing apparatus has been compromised, his survival window is extremely limited. Barzans rely on those devices to survive in harsh environments; without it, he won’t last long.”

Duncan nodded, his expression grave. He knew how dangerous this situation was and didn’t want to waste any time delaying their rescue. “We need to reach them as quickly as possible.” He looked over at Paynkor and issued more orders. “Commander, increase speed to maximum warp.” 

Paynkor, hesitated briefly. “Captain, with respect, whatever damaged their shuttle might still be out there. If we push the Odyssey at maximum warp, we could end up in the same situation.”

Duncan knew the chief flight control officer was correct and appreciated his cautious approach to the situation. Before he could say anything, Duncan heard his first officer speaking. 

Hunsen, still in uniform though his jacket was undone around the collar area, had turned to Reddick for more information. “Brianna, can you run a scan of the area? We need to know if any anomalies could pose a risk.”

Reddick quickly moved to one of the empty mission ops station and accessed the ship’s sensors. Her eyes narrowed as she examined the data. “I’m detecting a subspace anomaly near the planet, sir. It’s subtle, but it could affect the signal and pose a danger to the Odyssey. It’s probably what damaged the shuttle.”

Hunsen turned back to Paynkor. “Plot a course that takes us around the anomaly. We need to get to our people in one piece.”

Paynkor nodded and headed back to the helm station to make the alterations and get them as soon as possible. 

As the pilot left the group, Keli, who was wearing a black martial arts outfit, spoke up. “Should we inform S’Tem, about this? He has the right to know what’s happening and that his father might be injured.”

Horin, who was also out of her uniform and wearing a very baggy jumper and pair of sweatpants, shook her head gently, her Betazoid empathy clear in her calm voice. “Not yet. There’s no need to alarm him prematurely. Until we have more information about Tomaz’s condition, it’s best to keep S’Tem occupied and unaware of the situation.”

Slyvexs, who had been overseeing S’Tem’s care while Tomaz was away, nodded in agreement. “Louwanna is right. S’Tem is in good hands with Jordan and Alfie. We should focus on the mission of rescuing our comrades.”

Dalen was wearing her uniform and studying the scans that Reddick had just completed. She looked up, her expression serious. “Captain, there’s still a risk even if we avoid the anomaly. These readings remind me of a situation I encountered back on Deep Space Nineteen when one of our runabouts experienced something similar.”

Duncan turned to her, interested in her insight. “What did you do in that situation?”

“We powered down the warp core until we were clear of the anomaly,” Dalen explained. “If not, we risked creating a subspace tear. The only way to seal it would have been to detonate our warp core—a last resort we definitely want to avoid.”

Standing beside Dalen was Tierra. She was in a similar outfit like Keli. Looking over the data, the Deltan chief engineer nodded in agreement. “She’s right, Captain. We should power down the warp core once we’re in range, to minimize the risk.”

Duncan nodded, making a quick decision. “We’ll proceed with caution. Once we’re within range, power down the warp core. Mister Bollwyn, keep working on breaking through the interference. I want you to tell Tomaz and Craigen that help is coming.”

Bollwyn straightened his uniform and responded with determination in his voice. “Aye, Captain.”

Reddick offered to assist Bollwyn. “If we can work out what that subspace anomaly is then we should be able to get through to them.”

Duncan turned to Hunsen, his tone firm. “Number One, I want away teams prepped and ready to beam down as soon as we’re in orbit. We need to find them and bring them back safely.”

Hunsen nodded. “Understood, sir. We’ll be ready.”

With the orders given, Duncan dismissed the senior staff, who promptly returned to their stations to carry out their tasks. Court approached his husband and slipping an arm around his waist. 

“You okay, Max?” Court asked softly, his voice laced with concern. 

Duncan knew what his husband was hinting at. This could be the first time that he could loose officers under him since he took command of the Odyssey. Duncan nodded, drawing strength from Court’s presence. “I’m fine, thanks. I best call the commodore and tell him what’s happened.”

“Go idea,” Court agreed as his released his hand from Duncan, realising that level of affection was perhaps not the best idea on the bridge during a crisis. “I’ll go check in on Alfie and Jordan and make sure that they’re keeping everything normal for S’Tem.”

Duncan liked that idea. “Just make sure they don’t give him too much ice cream, I don’t think Tomaz would appreciate us returning his son to him all hyped up on sugar.”

Court chuckled as he left the bridge.

Looking down at himself, Duncan realised he still wore his suit from his interrupted dinner date. Telling Bolwyn he would be in his ready room, he ordered his new chief communications officer to get a secure channel with the Constitution established at once. 

Entering his ready room, Duncan went over to his desk and sat down. He ordered himself a mug of tea just as Bollwyn came over the intercom, stating the channel with the Constitution was established. 

“I’ve got the commodore for you, sir,” Bollwyn remarked.

“Thanks, lieutenant,” Duncan replied as he tapped on his desk’s console to activate the link. Immediately, he sat up straight in his chair before his superior saw him. 

The familiar face of Commodore James Preston McCallister appeared on the floating holographic display before Duncan. McCallister was in his dress uniform, which made Duncan think he had disturbed him while he dealing with some diplomatic event with the Zahl. 

“Max, everything okay?” McCallister asked, his tone filled with concern. 

Duncan shook his head as he told the commodore why he was calling him so late at night and what had happened so far. 

In The Bleak Mid-Winter – 4

Unknown Planet, Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78780.1

Tomaz woke to the smell of something burning.

The familiar scent of smoke was the first thing to pierce through his fog of sleep, followed closely by the biting cold and the now-familiar ache across his body. His entire body throbbed with pain, but the smell, something charred and vaguely edible, pushed through the haze, pulling him from his restless slumber.

Groaning, Tomaz opened his eyes and blinked blearily, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The frigid air of the cave hit him immediately, a stark reminder of where they were. The crash. The freezing storm. The endless, bitter cold. All of it rushed back as he forced himself to sit up, his body protesting every movement.

“Craigen?” Tomaz rasped, rubbing a hand over his face. His throat felt dry, and the dull ache in his ribs only seemed to intensify as he shifted under the thermal blankets. “What’s that smell?”

“Breakfast,” came the familiar, tired voice from near the entrance of the cave. Tomaz turned his head, wincing slightly as the sharp pain in his side flared up. Outside the small tent, Flemen was crouched by the fire, prodding at something in a pan with the kind of focus reserved for desperate cooks or someone performing emergency surgery.

Tomaz squinted at the sight. “Is that… supposed to be food?”

Flemen shot him a wry smile. “I never claimed to be a master chef. But it’s edible. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Better than starving to death,” Flemen said with a chuckle, his breath fogging up in the cave’s cold air. He gave the pan a final poke, then carefully lifted it off the fire and made his way over to Tomaz. “Scrambled eggs, courtesy of the finest Starfleet ration packs.”

Tomaz eyed the dish Flemen handed him with cautious scepticism. The “eggs” were a congealed, lumpy mass of yellow, burned in some places and suspiciously gooey in others. He prodded the food with a fork, wondering if it was safe to eat or a science experiment gone wrong.

“Well,” Tomaz said dryly, “it’s… something.”

Flemen sat down beside him, stretching his legs out and letting out a small sigh. “You know, you can’t get too picky when you are stranded on an ice planet. Try it. It might surprise you.”

Tomaz carefully took a bite and immediately regretted it. The taste was somewhere between Klingon gagh and ash, with a strange rubbery texture that stuck to his teeth. Still, he swallowed and managed a weak smile. “Not bad.”

“Liar,” Flemen grinned, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

They lapsed into a brief silence, broken only by the crackling of the small fire and the distant howl of the wind outside the cave. Tomaz poked at the rest of the eggs on his plate and tried his best to stomach the last bits of his breakfast. Though his body was uneasy about what he was taken in, his mind was more uneasy about their surroundings. The previous night had been filled with strange noises, the rhythmic thumping and growling sounds that echoed through the icy walls, putting both officers on edge. The fact that Flemen had said he had seen something that looked like a group of figures had kept Tomaz on edge, too. 

Tomaz looked toward the cave entrance, his gaze narrowing. “That noise and those beings you saw from last night… did you hear or see any more since you got up?”

Flemen shook his head, his face growing more serious. “Not a thing. I don’t know what they were, but they were close. Too close.”

“Maybe it’s just this place,” Tomaz admitted as he stifled a yawn and wrapped the thermal blanket closer to him. 

“Maybe,” Flemen agreed as he finished eating. Slowly, he took out his tricorder. “I’ve been trying to locate the source of those subspace readings that took us off course.”

“Any luck?” Tomaz questioned, curious if his friend had made any progress with it.

Flemen passed the tricorder over to Tomaz. “I’m no science officer, but from what I can tell, the source of the subspace anomalies is coming from this planet. Somewhere underneath where we are.”

Intrigued by that, Tomaz studied the tricorder further. “There must be something quite big down there to generate such power.”

“Hopefully, when Odyssey arrives, it can detect it before it enters orbit,” Flemen stated. He then gestured towards their distress beacon. “I’ve slightly altered the beacon’s homing signal to include the tricorder readings.”

“Fingers crossed that our new chief science officer or chief communications officer sees it first before the ship attempts a rescue,” Tomaz stated after realising what Flemen had done.

Flemen nodded, confirming what he had done. “I promise you, when we return, I will spend a week on the holodeck on a hot beach in Risa.”

“I’d be more than happy to spend a week on Vulcan at this rate,” Tomaz said, trying to suppress himself from shivering anymore. 

Before they could discuss their current flight any further, the sound they heard from the previous night came again—a low, resonant thumping, rhythmic and steady. It was louder now and more distinct than before. The cave seemed to vibrate with the pulse of the noise as though the ice was responding to it.

Flemen’s body tensed, his gaze snapping toward the cave entrance. “That sounds a lot closer.”

Tomaz forced himself to sit up straighter, grimacing as the sharp pain in his body flared up. “Something’s coming.”

The thumping grew louder, echoing off the ice walls, and then—silence. Both officers froze, eyes locked on the cave’s entrance. The fire flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the uneven walls of ice and snow.

Suddenly, the ice began to move.

The snow and frost at the mouth of the cave rippled, shifting as if alive. The ice walls shifted like liquid, reshaping themselves before their eyes. Then, from within the ice, figures began to emerge. They slid through the frozen walls with eerie fluidity as though they were part of the very ice itself.

“Craigen…” Tomaz whispered, his voice tight, surprised at the eerie arrival of the figures around them. He had never seen anything like it before, and from his friend’s expression, he hadn’t either. 

Six figures emerged from the ice, their crystalline forms gleaming in the dim firelight. They were tall and graceful, their bodies shimmering with a ghostly glow. Their faces were devoid of features save for piercing blue eyes that glowed with an unnaturally bright light.

Tomaz’s hand instinctively went to his phaser rifle, his pulse quickening. He exchanged a glance with Flemen, who was already standing, his rifle in hand.

The figures moved closer, surrounding them in a tight circle. The fire crackled between the two officers and the aliens, its weak glow doing little to warm the freezing air.

One of the crystalline beings stepped forward, its movements smooth and deliberate. When it spoke, its voice was melodic, resonating through the cave like a haunting song: “You trespass upon sacred ground.”

Flemen stepped forward cautiously, lowering his rifle slightly in a gesture of peace. “We didn’t mean to intrude,” he said; his voice was calm but respectful. “Our shuttle crashed. We’re stranded here and waiting for our ship to come for us. We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

The alien’s glowing blue eyes shifted, its head tilting slightly as it seemed to study Flemen. “Your presence violates this land,” it said in that same deep tone. “We are the Glaciarians, the dwellers of this place. You have defiled sacred ground. Ground that is only kept for our caretaker.”

Flemen’s brow furrowed. “We’re sorry. We had no idea. If there’s another place we can go until our ship arrives, we’ll—”

“There is no forgiveness,” the Glaciarian leader interrupted, its tone chillingly final. “You have trespassed. You must be cleansed.”

Tomaz’s grip tightened on his rifle, his heart pounding in his chest. “Cleansed?” he asked, his voice low. “What does that mean?”

Flemen tried again, his voice rising slightly in desperation. “Please. We’re not here to harm your world. My friend is injured and needs medical help.” He gestured towards Tomaz before trying to appeal to them. “We’ll leave as soon as possible.”

The leader of the Glaciarians raised their hand, and at that moment, Tomaz realised the negotiation was over. The alien’s glowing eyes narrowed, and with a sudden, fluid motion, the Glaciarians surged forward.

“Craigen, get down!” Tomaz shouted, raising his rifle. He fired off a shot, striking one of the Glaciarian square in the shoulder. The alien staggered but did not fall, its body shimmering as it absorbed the blow.

Flemen scrambled backwards, trying to avoid the advancing aliens, but there were too many of them. Two of the beings rushed him, knocking his rifle from his hands and pinning him to the ground. Tomaz tried to fire again, but a sharp blow from behind sent him sprawling to the frozen floor, his phaser skittering out of reach.

The cold, unyielding hands of the Glaciarians grabbed him, pulling him up effortlessly. He struggled, kicking and thrashing against their hold, but it was useless. The last thing Tomaz saw before everything went black was the blurred image of Flemen being dragged out of the cave; his voice lost in the chaos.

In that fleeting moment, Tomaz’s final thought went to his son, S’Tem, hoping that he would be cared for without him around. 


When Tomaz woke again, his body screamed out at him in pain.

His body ached with the cold, the bitter wind biting his skin like a savage beast knawing away at its latest prey. His hands and wrists were bound tightly with rough ropes, and he was hanging suspended from a long wooden pole. His arms were being stretched as his body pulled heavily down on them. Tomaz felt some relief he was still alive, but on the other hand, the high level of pain hitting him from multiple angles was overwhelming. Trying his best to ignore the pain, the next thing Tomaz noticed was the cold—it cut through him like a knife, seeping into every bone, every nerve. 

He blinked groggily, trying to shake off the disorientation. The cave was gone. Instead, he was hanging above a vast, semi-frozen lake. Turning to his left, he saw Flemen in the same state he was in. Flemen was still unconscious. Trying to get his full bearings, Tomaz looked down and saw that the ice below them glistened dangerously, jagged shards poking up through the water. The wind howled around them, but what chilled Tomaz the most was the realisation that they had been stripped down to nothing but their underwear.

Their Starfleet gear and equipment were piled haphazardly near the edge of the frozen lake, out of reach. Uniforms, thermal blankets, medkits—everything they had, discarded like trash.

Tomaz’s heart raced as he twisted slightly in his restraints, trying to get a better look at their captors. A group of Glaciarians stood near the lake’s edge, watching them silently, their blue eyes glowing eerily in the cold light.

“Craigen?” Tomaz called out, his voice hoarse.

Beside him, Flemen stirred, his head hanging low. He groaned softly, and then his eyes fluttered open. “Tomaz?”

Tomaz let out a shaky breath of relief. “You okay?”

Flemen blinked, squinting at their surroundings. “I’ve been better,” he muttered, his voice rough. “What… what the hell is this?”

Before Tomaz could answer, the Glaciarians stepped forward, their leader raising a hand. The air around them seemed to hum with energy, the icy wind whipping at their nearly bare skin.

“The cleansing begins,” the leader stated, their voice like ice cracking in the wind.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them rumbled. Massive flames erupted from the lake’s frozen surface, encircling them in a ring of fire. The heat was intense, yet somehow, the cold lingered, a painful contrast that made Tomaz’s skin crawl.

Flemen looked at Tomaz, fear flashing across his eyes. “Tomaz.” 

Tomaz knew that words were not enough as he heard his friend’s tone clearly enough. Flemen was scared as much as he was. Tomaz’s heart raced as the flames roared higher, his breath catching in his throat. For the second time that day, he wondered if this was the end. Struggling, he tried to pull on the rope holding him close to the pole, but with every move he made, Tomaz knew he didn’t have the strength to escape. The heat coming from the flames was roasting. They were going from one extreme to another, and in that moment he gave his friend one more glance. He once again saw in Flemen’s eyes the same panic and message he had shared before. 

They couldn’t win this. 

It was over for them. 

In The Bleak Mid-Winter – 5

Unknown Planet, Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78780.18

Tomaz gasped, struggling against the icy water that threatened to engulf him. The shock of the cleansing had nearly pushed him to the brink of unconsciousness, but as his body was pulled under the surface of the semi-frozen lake, a strange transformation occurred. Instead of succumbing to the pain, a sense of clarity washed over him, as if the biting cold was not just cleansing the crash debris but something deeper within him.

For a moment, Tomaz thought he was drowning. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the sensation of water gave way to air. He surfaced, coughing and sputtering, only to find himself lying on the icy shore of the lake, his body numb but intact. Beside him, Flemen was also gasping for breath, shivering uncontrollably but alive.

Both officers stared at each other in disbelief, the weight of their survival sinking in.

“What the hell just happened?” Tomaz croaked, his voice hoarse from the cold and exhaustion.

Flemen shook his head, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and curiosity. “I think…” His teeth were almost chattering away at the cold. “I think we just survived the cleansing.”

Before they could comprehend any further, the towering forms of the Glaciarians appeared over them, their crystalline bodies shimmering under the dim light of the alien world. The group leader stepped forward, blue eyes gleaming with a cold detachment.

“You have passed the cleansing,” the leader said in its melodic voice, devoid of warmth or emotion. “The impurities of your off-world presence have been purged.”

Tomaz barely registered the words as two Glaciarians lifted him to his feet, his body still weak and trembling from the cold. But something else felt off. He flexed his fingers, expecting pain from his earlier injuries—the burns and the deep bruise in his ribs from the crash—but there was nothing. The pain was gone. His injuries were healed. 

“Craigen,” Tomaz said quietly, his eyes wide in disbelief. “I… I’m fine. I don’t feel any of it anymore.”

Flemen, his breath coming in ragged puffs, glanced at him, brow furrowed. “What do you mean, Tomaz?”

Tomaz pressed his hand to his side, where the pain had been excruciating just hours ago. It was as though the icy waters had done more than cleanse—it had cured him. “The injuries from the crash… they’re gone. Completely.”

Flemen stared at him, shocked, but before he could respond, one of the Glaciarians approached them, carrying their Starfleet uniforms and winter gear in its crystalline arms. Without a word, the alien handed their belongings back to them.

Tomaz took his uniform, still damp from the cleansing but far better than the minimal clothing they had been left in. Flemen, too, quickly pulled on his uniform, their shared sense of relief almost palpable.

“The cleansing heals,” the leader explained in a calm, melodic voice. “It purifies and restores. Your bodies are now free of any foreign ailments.”

As Tomaz pulled his jacket on, the cold began to subside, and he exchanged a glance with Flemen. Whatever the Glaciarian cleansing was, it had not only spared them but had somehow made them whole again.

Flemen, still unsettled, stepped forward. “Thank you… but what now? What happens to us?”

“You will come with us. You will be held in isolation.”

Tomaz’s earlier relief faded into frustration. “So, we’re prisoners?” he questioned, his mind grappling with the implications of their situation.

“Quarantined,” the Glaciarian corrected. “You are not to be allowed contact with our people. It is for their safety, as well as yours. Our culture is isolated for a reason. We do not wish to be tainted by off-world germs or ideologies.”

Before Tomaz could react, he noticed Flemen stepping forward as his diplomatic instincts kicked in. “We understand that. But this wasn’t intentional. Our ship crashed due to a subspace anomaly in this system that overwhelmed our shuttle. We didn’t mean to violate your sacred ground, let alone your planet.” He struggled to find the right words to bridge the gap between their cultures.

The leader regarded Flemen for a long moment as if weighing his words. “You are not the first to crash here.”

Tomaz’s eyes narrowed. He was slightly intrigued by the fact that the Glaciarian leader was being more talkative than before. “What do you mean?” he probed, his curiosity piqued about the history of this mysterious planet and its inhabitants. 

The Glaciarian leader’s blue eyes dimmed slightly, almost as if in reluctance. “Others have come before you. Some survived the cleansing. Others did not.”

Flemen’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Others? How many others?”

“Enough,” the leader replied vaguely. “It has been happening for some time. Visitors crash on our world, drawn by the anomalies. Most are unworthy of survival.”

Flemen exchanged a look with Tomaz before speaking again. Neither of them wanted to know what the Glaciarian meant by the phrase of being unworthy. Tomaz was not about to entertain that question, and he knew Flemen wouldn’t either, not now, especially as their dialogue was starting to reveal more information that could help them get off this planet.

“Do you know what’s causing the anomalies?” Flemen asked. 

Tomaz started formulating a plan and was pleased to see his friend was thinking along the same path. If they could gain the trust of the Glaciarian leader, then their captivity may change, and they may survive this ordeal.  

The leader was silent for a moment, then nodded at Flemen’s question. “It is the power of our Provider. His generator, which sustains our world, is ancient. It has been at the centre of our lives for as long as we can remember. Its energy ripples through subspace and causes gravimetric surges. This disturbance has brought others here against our wishes.”

Tomaz’s mind raced, processing the new information. “If the generator’s causing the anomalies, then maybe we can help. We have experience with subspace technology. If you let us fix it, the crashes could stop. Your people won’t be bothered again, and no others will suffer again.”

The Glaciarian leader seemed taken aback, as though the offer had never crossed his mind. “The generator is a holy place,” he said slowly. “No Glaciarian is permitted to enter. Our Provider left it to us generations ago. He cared for our people and our world. The generator nourishes us and protects us. Our ancestors shared a story about how the Provider vanished. This was long before my time. None of us have ever met the Provider who cared for our world. We are only his keepers.”

Flemen raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never met your Provider? So everything you know is based on what previous generations have shared? How can you be certain that the generator left behind is safe?”

The Glaciarian leader shook his head. “We are not fools. As I said, the Provider left long ago with others of its kind to travel among the stars. Before departing, he entrusted the generator to protect our world from outside interference. It sustains the balance here and keeps us hidden from outsiders. The disturbances have become a recent unintended consequence of its use. We have been forced to endure it as we are not wise enough to fix the problem.”

Flemen glanced at Tomaz, then back at the leader. “But if you never met the Provider, and the generator is so old, then maybe it’s not functioning as it should. That could be causing these crashes.”

The leader’s crystalline form shimmered as though considering the notion. “The generator is sacred. We are not permitted to interfere with its function.”

Flemen’s tone grew more urgent but still respectful. “We’re not asking to disrespect your sacred sites. But if this continues, more ships will crash. More people will die. We can stop it—together.”

“We promise the moment we’ve fixed the generator, we will leave,” Tomaz added. 

The Glaciarian leader’s glowing eyes studied Flemen and Tomaz carefully as though assessing their sincerity. Finally, the leader’s voice softened just slightly. “I will bring your offer to my brethren. We will decide together if the Provider’s will can allow such interference.”

Without another word, the leader turned and left the cell, the door sliding shut behind him with a low hiss.

As the silence settled into the room, Tomaz leaned against the cold wall, exhaling sharply. “Well, that went better than expected?”

Flemen rubbed his arms to warm himself and gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah, but we’re not out of the ice yet. If they decide we’re a threat, this ‘quarantine’ might last much longer than we’d like.”

“Or shorter,” Tomaz said grimly. 

“I think I’d prefer to be cleansed again,” Flemen sarcastically said as he rubbed his hands together to generate some heat. 

Tomaz copied his friend’s action when he considered their options. “If we can help them fix their generator, then maybe we can find a way to get a message to the Odyssey or even the Constitution to come and rescue us if the distress beacon didn’t work.” 

“And if not?” Flemen questioned.

“Then we’ll need to come up with another plan to get ourselves off this rock of ice.”

In The Bleak Mid-Winter – 6

Glaciarian Homeworld, Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78780.4

The room they were moved to was still frigid by Federation standards, but it was an improvement over the cell. A small fire crackled in the centre of the stone floor, casting flickering light across the ice-carved walls. Thick furs had been provided for bedding, and while the heat didn’t quite reach the room’s edges, it was enough to stave off the worst of the cold.

Tomaz sat on one of the giant thick blankets they had been given with his back against the wall, staring at the flames, trying to ignore the persistent chill. Flemen, sitting across from him, also wrapped up in a huge blanket, rubbed his hands together before holding them over the fire.

“I’d kill for a decent meal right about now,” Flemen mused, attempting to lift the mood. “Maybe a Bolian soufflé to start, followed by some Vulcan plomeek soup. What about you, Tomaz?”

Tomaz offered a half-hearted chuckle but didn’t look up. His thoughts were elsewhere, lost in worry. His mind kept wandering back to his son, S’Tem. Was he alright? Was he worried about his father? Now, Tomaz was anxious about much bigger things.

“I think I’d prefer just to be back on Odyssey in the warmth and knowing S’Tem is okay,” Tomaz answered. 

Sensing his friend’s unease, Flemen leaned forward, smiling warmly. “Tomaz, S’Tem is in good hands. Our crew looks after their own. Hell, I bet both Alfie and Jordan have probably been pulling double shifts just to keep him entertained.”

That finally earned a proper smile from Tomaz. “They’re good kids. S’Tem likes them a lot. Maybe too much. I might have to give them extra credits for all the babysitting. However, I’m not sure there’s a section in Starfleet training manuals about looking after a superior’s infant.”

Flemen laughed. “You probably will find some clause about it somewhere. And don’t forget Slyvexs. If anyone knows how to wrangle the young ones, it’s our good doctor.”

Tomaz chuckled again, his spirits lifting slightly. The thought of his crew—a crew that had become like family—helped ease some of the burden. Still, he couldn’t shake the sense of anxiety gnawing at him. “I just… I hate being stuck here, not knowing what’s happening back on the Odyssey. S’Tem’s already been through so much with losing his birth parents. I don’t want him to go through that again.”

Flemen’s expression softened, and he nodded. “We’ll get back, Tomaz. We always do. And when we do, we’ll throw the biggest feast the Odyssey has ever seen. You’ll be back with S’Tem, and we’ll be stuffing ourselves with every dish you can think of.”

Tomaz smiled at that, leaning his head back against the wall. “Alright, what’s on the menu, then?”

Flemen’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh, where do I start? Rigellian sausage for breakfast, Andorian flatcakes with a side of Earth-style bacon. Then, for lunch, how about some Tellarite stew? Thick, hearty, and perfect for cold days like this.”

Tomaz raised an eyebrow. “You’re making me hungry already.”

“And for dinner,” Flemen continued, his hands gesturing enthusiastically, “we could have a traditional Klingon feast. If we’re feeling brave, Gagh, rokeg blood pie, and maybe a roasted targ.”

Tomaz laughed, the sound warm against the icy atmosphere. “I’ll pass on the gagh, thanks. But I could go for some Bajoran hasperat. Maybe a glass or two of a Risian mai-tai.”

The cold seemed to retreat just a little as the conversation drifted from cuisine to old stories from their missions. They talked for what felt like hours, but eventually, the weight of their situation settled back over them. Nightfall was approaching, and there was no sign of the Glaciarian leader and they couldn’t open their door from the inside. Debating on whether or not to attempt an escape, the two men gave their hosts the benefit of the doubt. They were both tired now. 

Flemen glanced toward the door, then back at Tomaz. “We might be waiting a while to hear anything.”

Tomaz sighed, feeling the cold settle into his bones once more. “Yeah. Might as well get some sleep while we can.”

Flemen nodded, stretching out on the furs. “I’ll take the first watch. You get some rest.”

Tomaz hesitated for a moment, then nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Craigen.” He lay down, wrapping the furs tightly around himself to block out the biting chill. Despite the cold, exhaustion quickly took over, and within minutes, Tomaz drifted off to sleep.


In his dream, Tomaz was back on the Odyssey. The warmth of the ship’s corridors was a welcome change from the freezing cave, and for the first time in days, he felt at ease. He walked down the familiar hallways, making his way to his quarters, where S’Tem was waiting for him.

The door slid open, and there was his son, a smile lighting up his face. “Dad! You’re back!”

Tomaz’s heart swelled with joy as he scooped S’Tem into his arms. “I’m back, buddy. I’m not going anywhere.”

But before he could say anything more, the ship rocked violently. The lights flickered, alarms blaring in the distance. A red alert was declared, followed by the order for everyone to go to battle stations. Tomaz put S’Tem down, his heart pounding. “Stay here,” he ordered, his voice tense with fear.

He rushed out of his quarters, sprinting toward the bridge, but he froze as he rounded the corner. The Odyssey was under attack, not by any known force but by the Glaciarians. He couldn’t work out why they were attacking the ship. Tomaz knew he and Flemen had just settled their differences with them. Why were they aggressive? How did they get on the ship? So many questions were racing in his mind that Tomaz couldn’t comprehend what was happening. All he knew was in the here and now, the Odyssey was being invaded. 

They poured through the corridors, their crystalline bodies shimmering as they moved with unnatural speed. Crew members were overwhelmed, their phaser fire bouncing uselessly off the Glaciarians’ icy forms.

Tomaz grabbed a fallen phaser rifle and joined the fight, but his shots barely slowed the invaders. He turned just in time to see a Glaciarian strike down Captain Duncan with a single blow. The captain’s body fell to the deck with a massive thud. Then, in quick succession, Doctor Slyvexs, Counsellor Horin and Commander Tierra were taken out. Ducking and diving to avoid being hit, Tomaz turned around and then saw both Cadets McCallister and Duncan-Court fall to the attackers, their bodies crumpling to the ground.

“No!” Tomaz shouted, his voice hoarse. He raced toward S’Tem’s quarters, his heart pounding in his chest.

But as he reached the door, he heard a scream. His son’s scream.

“S’Tem!” Tomaz’s voice broke as he slammed the door open. Inside, a Glaciarian was dragging S’Tem away. Tomaz lunged forward, but he felt a sharp pain in his side before he could reach him. He looked down to see a Glaciarian spear impaled through his body.

Flemen appeared beside him, his face twisted in horror, but before either of them could react, both were shot. Everything went dark.


“Tomaz! Tomaz, wake up!”

Tomaz jolted awake, gasping for air, his body covered in cold sweat. Flemen was kneeling beside him, shaking him gently. “It’s okay,” Flemen said softly. “You were having a bad dream.”

Tomaz sat up, wiping the sweat from his forehead and struggling to catch his breath. “It felt so real…”

“I know,” Flemen said, his voice calming. “But it was just a dream. You’re safe.”

Tomaz nodded, his chest still heaving from the vividness of the nightmare. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the lingering dread. “Thanks, Craigen.”

Before they could say anything more, the door to their room slid open with a soft hiss. The Glaciarian leader stood there, his cold eyes watching them closely. “You are summoned,” he said simply.

Tomaz and Flemen exchanged a glance before rising to their feet. Flemen, always the diplomat, spoke first. “Have you made your decision?”

The leader’s crystalline form shimmered in the dim light. “We will allow you to visit the generator. You will see what must be done.”


They were escorted deep into the heart of the Glaciarian city. The temperature dropped further as they descended, and both men pulled their winter gear tighter around them. The journey was long and arduous, but eventually, they reached the generator chamber. A heavily armed room, guarded by numerous Glaciarians, stood before them. All of them stood around the far edge. None of them appeared comfortable in approaching the chamber. It was almost like the room was cursed. It was clear from their faces that the arrival of their visitors with their leader was surprising and concerning for them. They took their job seriously in protecting what was within the chamber. 

Inside, the generator itself was an impressive sight. Its core pulsed with unstable energy, casting an eerie light across the room. It was like walking into the Odyssey’s main engineering with the ship’s warp core in the middle. However, the cold, frozen walls were filled with consoles and displays that were unlike the other computer displays that Tomaz and Flemen had encountered in other parts of the Glaciarian settlements. It appeared alien, and neither of them recognised the text and symbols. 

Tomaz and Flemen immediately pulled out their tricorders and began scanning. Tomaz frowned as the readings came through. “It’s a tetryon reactor and not a very stable one.”

“Tetryon reactor?” Flemen repeated; his limited engineering knowledge didn’t help him understand it anymore, but he knew of them. “Aren’t they rare and expensive to make?”

Tomaz just nodded to his friend before returning his focus to his tricorder. “If this thing isn’t fixed soon, it’ll cause a massive subspace rift.”

Flemen glanced at him. “How bad are we talking?”

Tomaz’s expression darkened. “Bad enough to tear this entire sector apart. That’s why they’re so rare; they’re dangerous to build.”

“Can we fix it?” Flemen asked.

Tomaz shook his head. “No, we would need the Odyssey’s help.” He whispered that so only Flemen could hear it. Mentioning the ship might irritate their hosts, and Flemen understood why he had decided to avoid bringing that up. They had only started to gain the trust of the Glacerians; they didn’t want to lose it too quickly.

However, they had no other choice. Neither of them was a proper engineer, so the ship was the only thing that could help them. 

Flemen turned to the Glaciarian leader, his tone calm but urgent. “We can stabilise it. But we’ll need help from our ship.”

Seeing the diplomatic effort his friend was making, Tomaz joined in with the technical aspect of their reasoning. “A few well-timed graviton pulses from the Odyssey’s deflector dish could stop the destabilisation.”

The Glaciarian leader’s eyes narrowed, hesitant. “We do not allow communication with outsiders.”

Flemen took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “I understand your hesitation. But if this reactor blows, it’ll destroy everything—your world, your people, and everyone else in the sector. We don’t want to interfere with your culture. We just want to help. However, it’s not only you and your people who are at risk now. Others are, too. I’m sure your Provider did not mean to gift you something that could harm you and others.”

Tomaz nodded in agreement. “Once the reactor is stable, we can show you how to mask its energy signature. No one will be able to detect it. You’ll be invisible to the rest of the galaxy, just as you’ve always been.”

The Glaciarian leader was silent for a long moment, his crystalline form shimmering in thought. Finally, he reluctantly nodded, “Very well. You may contact your ship.” He pointed to one of the consoles outside the chamber and instructed a nearby guard to let their visitors use its subspace radio to talk to contact the Odyssey. 

Once the station was operational and a channel was open, Flemen nodded to Tomaz to make the call. “USS Odyssey, this is Commander Tomaz. Do you copy?”

There was a brief moment of static before Captain Duncan’s voice came through, filled with relief. “Tomaz! It’s good to hear your voice. Are you alright?”

A big smile spread across Tomaz’s face. “We’re alive, Captain. But we’ve got a situation…”

In The Bleak Mid-Winter – 7

Glaciarian Homeworld, Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78781

The tetryon generator hummed with newfound stability, casting a soft, icy-blue glow across the underground chamber. The modified deflector pulses from the Odyssey restored the generator, and it was now fully operational. The final stage of the plan was to use the generator to protect the Glaciarian people from being detected by others. 

Tomaz punched in the final sequence to activate the dampening field around the Glaciarian settlement, securing their cloaking from any prying sensors. 

“Okay, I think we’re ready to activate the field,” he told the Glaciarian engineers assisting him. Tomaz had requested that the Glaciarian leadership allow a team from the Corps of Engineers to beam down to help them, but their request was denied. They didn’t want more visitors and only trusted Tomaz and Flemen to do the work. Instead, Tomaz had been taking live advice from Gray as he fixed the generator.

 Exhaling in relief, Tomaz felt the weight of responsibility ease from his shoulders. He glanced at Flemen, who returned his look with a satisfied nod. They had done it and given the Glaciarians a chance to live on in peace.

As the final adjustments took hold, the hum shifted into a stable thrum, almost as if the generator was breathing easier. 

The Glaciarian leader approached them, his crystalline features catching the light in delicate icy blue and pale white hues. “You have fulfilled your promise,” the leader rumbled, his voice resonating like distant thunder echoing through a cave. “The anomalies are gone, and our people are safe once more.”

Tomaz gave a respectful bow of his head. “We’re honoured to have been able to help you and your people. Your heritage, your way of life, is worth preserving.”

Flemen stepped forward with a warm smile. “If there ever comes a time when you wish to reach out, know that the Federation will be here. Our mission is to respect and protect, even if that means leaving you in peace.”

The leader’s icy, impassive expression softened a small but significant gesture from a race unaccustomed to outside intervention. “Our ways differ from yours, but your assistance will not be forgotten.” He inclined his head, stepping back as a silent signal that they were free to depart.

“We appreciate that and wish you and your people all the best,” Flemen said, his tone trying to sound optimistic, but Tomaz knew his friend was gutted and that he couldn’t make any further inroads with them. They did all they could. 

With one last glance around the cavernous chamber and the towering figure of the Glaciarian leader, Tomaz tapped his communicator. “Tomaz to the Odyssey. We’re finished down here. Two to beam up.”

The familiar warmth of the transporter beam enveloped them, the biting cold of the Glaciarian world melting away.


USS Odyssey (NCC-80000)

Back on the Odyssey, Tomaz and Flemen barely had time to catch their breath before they were ushered into sickbay. Doctor Slyvexs was waiting for them, her brows knitted in focused relief. She wasted no time, grabbing her tricorder and beginning a thorough scan of them both. 

“You two don’t get to go anywhere until I confirm you’re in one piece,” she said briskly, though a hint of humour danced in her sharp gaze. “Next time, remember to bring something less primitive than a medkit with you.”

Tomaz raised an eyebrow, smirking. “We’ll make sure to pack an entire sickbay, Doctor.”

Flemen chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “I think she’s worried our frostbite might have spread to our brains.”

Slyvexs shook her head, muttering something under her breath as she continued her scans. “Well, aside from the cold and some bumps and bruises, you both look relatively intact.” She shot them a mock-stern look over her tricorder. “You didn’t leave any frozen body parts down there, did you?”

Tomaz raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing. “I think everything’s still where it should be, Doctor. Even my injuries from the crash, the Glacerian medical technology is impressive.”

Slyvexs nodded in agreement as she looked up from her scans. “Indeed, there’s nothing left to show you were injured. Whatever this cleansing of theirs was, it’s made you almost brand new, commander.”

“That’s good,” Tomaz said with a smirk. 

As Slyvexs finished her scans, the doors to sickbay whooshed open, and Captain Duncan entered with Commander Hunsen by his side. Duncan’s expression lit up as he approached, clapping Tomaz on the shoulder before turning to Flemen.

“Welcome back, gentlemen,” he greeted them warmly. “Doctor, I take it they’re both okay?”

Slyvexs nodded. “They are, but I’d like to have them off their feet over the next two days, just in case we’ve missed something.”

“Two days off sounds good to me,” Duncan agreed. He turned back to Tomaz and Flemen. “You both have done outstanding work with the Glacerians. Protecting a society while respecting their wish for autonomy can be tricky.”

Tomaz straightened, giving Duncan a respectful nod. “Thank you, Captain. It wasn’t easy, but they deserve to live in peace.”

Flemen, though visibly proud, wore a faint frown. “It’s frustrating, though. The Glaciarian culture is rich, and we’ll never truly know them. We could have spent a lot longer here getting to know them.”

Duncan regarded him thoughtfully. “Not every culture wants the kind of connections we offer, Craigen. Respecting that is as important as anything else we do.”

Hunsen folded his arms, looking concerned. “I’m more interested in this generator you encountered. A tetryon reactor powerful enough to distort subspace on a sector-wide level? That’s unsettling but also intriguing where it came from.”

Tomaz exchanged a look with Flemen, then explained, “The Glaciarians called it a gift from their ‘Providers,’ a group of beings that left the reactor generations ago. The Glaciarians themselves have no record of meeting these Providers. They only know that the device was meant to protect and support their world.”

Hunsen’s brows knit together as he considered the implications. “I find it hard to understand why anyone would leave such an advanced piece of technology behind and not leave any clues as to why or who they were. We don’t know who these Providers were, nor the extent of what their technology is capable of.” 

“The Glacerians weren’t sure of those answers, besides knowing that the reactor was critical to their civilisation surviving,” Flemen added.

Hunsen showed he understood what Flemen was telling them with a nod. “It sounds risky, especially something powerful enough to destabilise subspace.”

Slyvexs nodded, setting down her tricorder with a concerned look. “Anything capable of such widespread damage deserves careful consideration. I’d suggest we keep an eye out for signs of these Providers. They may have left other traces behind.”

Tomaz straightened, agreeing. “Absolutely. We could recalibrate the Odyssey’s sensors to detect the same tetryon energy signature. If the Providers left other artefacts or technology nearby, we’d want to be ready.”

Duncan nodded approvingly. “Good thinking. We’ll get the team to implement those adjustments, and I’ll brief Commodore McCallister and the other captains. We may have to be on the lookout for more of these artefacts.”

Just then, the sickbay doors opened again, and Cadets Jordan Duncan-Court and Alfie McCallister stepped inside, accompanied by a small, familiar figure. S’Tem’s face broke into a bright grin the moment he saw his father, and he wiggled out of Jordan’s hold, sprinting across the room.

“Dad!” S’Tem shouted as he threw himself into Tomaz’s arms, his hug so fierce that Tomaz felt the weight of his absence evaporate in a heartbeat.

Tomaz held his son close, smiling as he ruffled the young Romulan’s hair. “I missed you, S’Tem.”

Everyone watched with amused smiles. 

Tomaz glanced over at the cadets. “Thank you, both. I owe you extra holodeck time for this.”

After a few more moments, Tomaz took S’Tem’s hand and walked towards the doors. He gave Flemen a grateful look. “Craigen, let’s catch up for dinner later?”

Flemen’s grin was wide. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”


That evening, Tomaz and Flemen shared a meal in Tomaz’s quarters. It was a hearty three-course feast Tomaz had replicated to celebrate their safe return, complete with all their favourite comfort foods from across the Federation. A spicy Andorian stew filled the room with rich, savoury smells, banishing the last chill of the Glaciarian world.

As they finished their meal, Tomaz reached into the replicator to produce two Ktarian beers, handing one to Flemen. He clinked his bottle against Flemen’s with a warm smile.

“To safe returns,” he toasted, his voice full of quiet gratitude.

“To safe returns,” Flemen echoed, tipping his bottle back for a long drink. They settled into the warm silence of friendship, their shared experience still fresh.

After a pause, Flemen shook his head, smiling. “You know, Tomaz, I couldn’t have asked for better company down there. You kept me sane in that frozen hellscape.”

Tomaz chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Same goes for you, Craigen. Not everyone could handle a mission like that.”

Flemen gave him a mock-serious look. “Next time, though, I’m picking the mission. Preferably something tropical.”

Tomaz laughed, clinking his bottle against Flemen’s once more. “Here’s to the tropics. May our next adventure be warm and sandy.”