The Price of Progress

God is dead. And we have killed him.

Prologue

USS Givens
January 2402

Ensign Jason Marsh had to do his very best to keep his brows from furrowing into a deep frown as he walked the corridors of the USS Givens. His steps were measured, almost mechanical, as he headed to his quarters and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that had started a few hours ago and only kept getting worse.
Behind his back, his hands occasionally clenched and released, while his gaze remained glued to the grey floor that stretched out in front of him, as if expecting to find the answer to his questions there.
When a crew member passed by, he kept his head down. It spared him having to make eye contact with the people who passed and having to wonder why he couldn’t just be as happy and excited as they were.

Jason barely registered the blur of movement in his periphery until a pair of boots appeared right in his path, stopping him short. He froze, his gaze snapping upward to follow the legs and torso they belonged to.

“Sorry,” he muttered before he could gather any semblance of decorum.

“No worries,” said Karsia, her smile easy and her green eyes twinkling with amusement. She adjusted the weight of the crate in her arms. “I own too much stuff. Are you already packed?”

Jason hesitated and shifted his stance. “Still trying to get to it,” he sighed, which was close enough to the truth. He couldn’t entirely banish the undercurrent of reluctance from his voice, and part of him hoped that Karsia would notice.

But to anyone but him, this was a joyful day, and if she had noticed, she dismissed it.

“Better hurry up,” she said with a somewhat distracted smile, already turning to head down the corridor in the opposite direction. “You don’t want to miss the shuttle.”

“Yeah…” Jason nodded vaguely, watching her round a corner before resuming his trek.

When Jason stepped into his quarters, he found them empty. His gaze drifted to his roommate’s bunk, long cleared of clutter and personal items. More than once, he had complained about the fellow ensign’s habit of leaving his things strewn around, but now, the neatly folded blanket just felt wrong.
He shook his head and moved over to his desk, where he dropped heavily into the chair and stared at the blank readout of his personal console. On the dark screen, his reflection seemed distorted and utterly alone.

He didn’t get it. No, that wasn’t quite it.

He understood, at least partly. Over the years, in particular during his teenage years, he had often toyed with the idea of leaving everything behind. Starting over, far away from past mistakes and a family that was all too happy to fixate on every misstep he had ever made.

But this – Starfleet – wasn’t supposed to be the thing to leave behind. This was his escape.

For the first time, he had finally found a place where he truly belonged, not just tolerated. A place where he didn’t have to twist himself into someone else to fit in.

He certainly wasn’t the best engineer Starfleet had ever seen, but he knew he was doing a pretty good job. He had found friends, and something like a family here.

Jason leaned back in the chair. He didn’t want to press the restart button again. Not when he had finally started to feel at home.

Jason spun in his chair before touching the screen. It flickered to life, replacing his frowning face with the interface for his personal log. Maybe, if he could sort through his thoughts and make sense of everything that had happened, he could figure out what to do.

He sat still for several long moments before he began to record. The words came painfully slowly, as if they were getting stuck in his throat, and each word felt heavier than the last.

“A journal entry?”

The unexpected voice behind him sent a jolt through his chest, and Jason’s first reaction was to freeze up. He hadn’t heard anyone enter and hadn’t expected anyone to speak. Slowly, he turned in his chair, and as he realized who the voice belonged to, his posture thawed.

“Yes,” he said carefully. “Hey, Naeric.”

“Can I see?” Naeric asked gently.

Jason paused a moment before surprising himself with a “Sure.”
He didn’t let anyone read his journal – ever – but Naeric had been his best friend since… well, as long as he could remember. Whenever he had felt out of place and needed someone, he had been there for him.

Naeric leaned in, scanning the screen. His brows knit together as he read, and then he turned to Jason.

“You’re not sure if you want to come,” he said slowly, and with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I understand.”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet, that’s all.”

“I understand that too. It’s a big change. What worries you about it?”

Jason shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I… just… you know, I worked so hard to get into Starfleet. I’m not overly smart, but I’m a hard worker. I finally got where I always wanted to be, and now I’m supposed to leave?”

“It’s a goal you pursued, and you’re proud of reaching it. I’m proud of you for reaching it, too,” Naeric nodded. “What do you like about Starfleet?”

“I like to… explore. I like the ship, and I enjoy my work here. Heck, I even like my roommate most of the time. It’s like a family here,” Jason tried to explain, his gaze dropping to his hands.

Naeric gave another slow nod, considering this for a moment. “Would you like it as much if you were on another ship?”

“I…” Jason frowned as the question seemed to wrap around his chest and squeeze the air out of him. He hadn’t considered that. Did he love being part of Starfleet as a whole, or was it this ship, this crew, that made it special? “Both.”

“What matters more?” asked Naeric.

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve often told me it feels like family here. They’ll all still be there,” Naeric said softly. “And they want you to be there too.”

Jason didn’t doubt the sincerity of Naeric’s words, and as he closed his eyes to bask in this entirely new concept of not just being accepted but being wanted, his features relaxed, and a smile formed on his lips.

They wanted him there. Him. For who he was.

As he opened his eyes again, Naeric’s smile mirrored his own. “If I don’t like it… can I change my mind?” he asked.

“Anytime,” Naeric nodded. “I will never force you to do anything you don’t want. But… I can promise that you won’t hate it. You’ll never have been happier.”

Jason exhaled, and the knot in his chest loosened. Being wanted. Being happy. And Naeric would never lie to him. “Okay… want to help me pack?”

Naeric’s smile widened. “Of course.”

Chapter One

Ready Toom, USS Callisto
January 2402

“For the time being, I would like us to consider it a check-up.”, Captain Aldris Ceix said evenly, and leaned back in his chair before he reached for the mug of long-cold coffee. The day had been long, and shore leave was being cut short, a combination of things he would rather have avoided. 

“But it could be more than that.”, replied Brennan as her brows knitted together in a frown. 

Ceix stifled a sigh. Commander Alcyone Brennan was a still relatively new arrival to the Callisto, and an inexperienced First Officer. He couldn’t fault her for not sharing the wealth of experiences that was the result of several lifetimes, but in situations like these, he found it difficult to allow her the time she needed. 

“I know,” he said thoughtfully. “But I don’t want to put the crew through the feeling of another rescue mission – not unless this turns out to be one. Not so soon.” 

He knew that many of the crew were still struggling with the aftermath of what they had uncovered on the ISS Asklepios, and how utterly useless they felt once they had grasped the magnitude of the operation, and with it the number of people they hadn’t been able to safe. 

“But you are worried.”, Brennan noted quietly. 

Ceix nodded. “I am. Commander Shivni is someone I consider capable and reliable – and a friend.”

The silence that followed seemed to stretch, until finally, Brennan gave a nod and glanced down at the PADD that held the information on said ‘check up’.
“Understood.”, she said eventually. “It says here that the last communication with the Givens was almost two weeks ago. Why the late reaction to a missing vessel?”

The Captain brought the mug to his lips, and carefully considered his response. He was almost certain that things would have moved more quickly if it wasn’t for Varro’s departure from Deep Space 17. And, of course, that wasn’t the only reason. 

“Communication falters in that region often, especially with the interference there,” Ceix said. “Sensors, arrays, all of it can be unreliable. But the Givens should have been back three days ago. That delay has Admiral Jenson worried.”

Brennan’s eyes flicked up for a brief moment before returning to the PADD. “Has there been any hostile activity in the sector?”

“None. With most of the civilizations pre-warp, it’s not a very interesting area of space in regards to trade or research. Resources are negligible, but we can never know for certain.”

“And that vessel the Givens was supposed to recover – they also lost contact, correct?”

“Correct.”, Ceix said. The Qualle, a civilian research vessel with only a handful of researchers on board, had not returned as planned either. 

“We have not listed any research-worthy objectives in the area. What was the Qualle interested in?”

Ceix shook his head. “We have not received that information. Either no one knows, or no one considered it worth notifying us. I believe it to be the latter –  oftentimes, what Starfleet finds interesting and noteworthy does not quite match the ideas of civilian research projects.”

“I know we are considering this a … check-up.”, said Brennan carefully. “But two vessels disappearing without a trace is beyond worrying. Wouldn’t it be better to inform the crew right away?”

“It is worrying.”, Ceix acknowledged. “But I don’t want to jump to the conclusion that something happened. Not until we know more.”

Brennan considered this, and remained silent for a good long while. Then, her frown deepened.  “The Givens was transporting the prisoners, and the survivors.”, she remarked slowly. 

“Yes. And that is why I believe this needs to be handled delicately. There is some discontent as to how the prisoners, in particular Miss Turunen were handled. The idea of their escape, or worse, will not affect the crew positively.”

“That, I agree on.”, Brennan replied coolly. Ceix knew that she, too, would have preferred to see them all brought to immediate justice for what they did. All of them. “And I also agree It’s best to project calm confidence.”, Brennan agreed eventually. 

Ceix gave a small nod. “Thank you.” He meant it.There was a difference between someone following orders, and someone understanding why he gave them. “I still want to be prepared. Inform Commander Keller of our … worries. He will make sure we are prepared for the worst-case scenario.”

“So we prepare for the worst, and hope for the best.”, Brenna nodded. It was one of those sayings she liked to use. 

“Indeed.”, Ceix nodded. “Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.”

Only time would tell if this was truly the right choice. 

Chapter Two

Bridge, USS Callisto
January 2402

Lieutenant Junior Grade Neeya Velix didn’t hate bridge duty, and was certainly always grateful for the opportunity, but she didn’t love it either. She much preferred the science labs and the opportunity to tinker on a problem until she had a solution, and where she felt safe enough to make mistakes and ask questions. 

Today, she had noticed the odd mood on the bridge the moment she arrived, a strange radiation that seemed to originate from the Captain and his First Officer, but had long into everyone else. Even Leski, usually chatty at the helm, stayed glued to his screen as Velix slipped to the science station, committed to stay invisible as possible.

That plan had failed spectacularly.

Velix’ hands trembled as they moved over the console. She had already tried reconfiguring the long-range sensors twice. Now she was hoping that this third attempt would yield the expected results. Or any results at all. 

She could feel the other officers watching her and exchanging glances. She could hear Lieutenant Commander Keller’s pacing, and his muttered disapproval.

“I think I got it.” Velix managed. Her lungs felt tight, struggling to fill with air, which had her voice come weak and unsure. She certainly wasn’t instilling any confidence in her abilities right now.

Her eyes flicked up to the viewscreen while the data was loading in. The Asada system appeared peaceful from the Callisto’s position at the very edge of it, but that the sensor data was getting scrambled hinted at an array of energy fields and distortions within. 

Or maybe the problem wasn’t the system. Maybe it was her. Maybe she was simply incompetent, shouldn’t be in Starfleet, and… 

“And?”, asked Keller sharply, interrupting her thoughts. Her stomach twisted, and she averted her gaze. By now, her cheeks were burning and if this was a nightmare, she would very much like to wake up now. Instead, she shook her head. 

“No. I am not getting anything usable.” 

Keller’s expression darkened, and without hesitation, he tapped his badge. “Lieutenant Pereira, to the bridge.”

Velix froze and instinctively took a step away from the science station. She only barely registered Brennan glancing at Keller with furrowed brows, though Keller seemed to ignore that if he had even caught it. 

A few moments later, Pereira arrived. 

“I… I’m having trouble getting the long range sensors to work.”, admitted Velix quietly, and shuffled back another step, eyes fixed on the floor. 

“Happy to help.”, Pereira said with an easy shrug. His smile was brief but warm, and he gestured for Velix to return to the console. “It can be tricky.”, he quietly explained, though loud enough for Keller to hear. “The Asada system isn’t known to be sensor-friendly. Let’s see if this does the trick.”

Velix gave a weak nod and looked at the readout, which certainly provided more data than she had been able to accumulate, but nowhere near enough. 

Pereira shook his head. “No chance.”

He turned to look at the Captain. “I recommend we get closer, sir.”

Ceix gave a nod, and Pereira turned to Velix.

“You could have made that recommendation,” Pereira whispered. “Don’t assume it’s your fault when things don’t work.”

It was one of the many things she liked about him – he reassured her when she needed it. And one day, she would tell him. 

Just not today. Probably not tomorrow either.

Instead, she turned to look at the viewscreen, where Asada, the largest M-class planet of the system named after it, came into view – and for some reason, she couldn’t take her eyes off it. 

“It’s….”, she said, but then fell silent. What came to mind were the words “serene” and “untouched”, and that wasn’t exactly the scientific input that was expected of her.

“That’s Asada.” Brennan said, who seemed a lot less intrigued. “The only inhabited planet in the system. The civilization is considered pre-warp.”

Velix nodded absently, still staring. Her eyes were still glued to the screen, and she pondered  whether it was the lack of notable structures that made it seem so appealing. Then again, objectively, it didn’t differ much – if at all – from planets she had seen before, and then, she had never taken much interest in them. 

She took a step towards the viewscreen, as if that could indeed bring her closer. 

“Are they close to breaking the warp barrier? I don’t even see … what are they called, satellites?” Velix asked. 

“Not at all, it’s estimated that it will take them another few centuries to get there. Their development has not been particularly fast, if compared to other societies at the same stage of development. They are considered to be in a period in something like… the enlightenment era on Earth.”

“What was that about?”, asked Velix. The words tumbled out before she could stop herself. She knew that she could look that information up, and that this was neither the time nor the place to ask about it. 

“To make it short,” Brennan began, “the Enlightenment was a period when reason and scientific inquiry began to take precedence over tradition and religious authority. People started questioning long-held beliefs and explored new ideas about liberty, equality, and the natural world. The era brought changes in politics, but most notably in science, and society.”

She glanced at Velix. “For example, it’s when the idea of democracy started out, and people began advocating for things like individual rights and the separation of powers in government.”

“So the earth was religious?” Velix asked curiously, feeling a little more comfortable now that Brennan didn’t seem to disapprove of her questions, even if they were out of place. She herself had little interest in the concept of a divine being and predetermined fate, but knew that they had been relevant in many societies before they discovered the world – and space –  around them. 

Brennan nodded. “Both can coexist, but yes. Religion was far more central, and during the Enlightenment, religious institutions lost some of their influence as people sought answers in science and philosophy. But that doesn’t mean that religious beliefs are gone- Some of us still follow them.

Velix looked at Brennan, and wondered if the woman considered herself more human than Rodulan. But before she could decide on whether she wanted to ask that or not, Keller scoffed. 

“Belief in myths has no place in Starfleet. We’re explorers, not followers of superstition.”, Keller remarked harshly.

The bridge fell silent, and glances were exchanged. Not because Keller’s opinion differed from that of Brennan, but because of the utterly disrespectful way he had chosen to communicate it. 

Velix winced. This was why she avoided the bridge. Keller had changed, and not for the better. 

Brennan’s expression hardened. “Commander, a word.” she said curtly, and she was about to turn and lead Keller into the direction of the ready room, when Pereira interrupted.

“Sir, scanners are picking up two ships. One of them is the Givens.” 

Brennan froze, her eyes still fixed on Keller. “This conversation isn’t over,” she said, but then turned to wait for the Captain’s orders. Ceix’ gaze lingered on the distant planet a moment longer than usual before he spoke.

“Status?”, he asked, and there was an unusual edge to his voice.

“Engines offline, shields down. We are not detecting any life signs – from either vessel.”

Velix’s stomach dropped. Images of the destroyed civilian shuttle flashed unbidden in her mind. The twisted wreckage, and the haunting faces of the survivors. the silence. She swallowed hard, willing herself to focus on the here and now. 

Pereira turned back to the console, breaking the silence. “I’ll run a full scan, sir.”

Chapter Three

Bridge, USS Callisto
January 2402

As soon as Asada came into view, its verdant expanse seemed to draw Jonathan’s gaze like a magnet. Images of luscious forests and crystal-clear lakes flooded his mind, stirring memories of a peace he had almost forgotten existed. The vice-like grip constricting his chest loosened, allowing him to breathe for the first time in weeks.

He barely perceived the conversation around him, barely noted how the Captain ordered to hail the powered-down Givens, and barely cared when the comms told him that there was no reaction – it all felt like a dream, like he was only half paying attention to someone else’s story unfolding before him.

A sharp ‘Commander Keller!’ from Brennan, just a few feet away, pulled him back to reality.

His jaw clenched as he gave a nod, and he strode purposefully toward the tactical station.  Focus, he thought to himself, furrowing his brows in concentration as he willed his gaze to focus on the readout, and his brain to parse the information it revealed.

It took longer than he cared to admit.

“Sir, with no lifesigns… we have to assume that something happened. And that the crew is dead.”, he said eventually, still not fully there. 

“I don’t want to believe that.”, said Ceix firmly. There was an undercurrent of pain he couldn’t quite hide. Keller… understood. He knew of the friendship between the Given’s Commanding Officer and Ceix, and that it wasn’t just another lost ship to him. He clenched his first, focussing on the sensation of fingernails digging into skin. It grounded him. 

“Sir, with no lifesigns… we have to assume that something happened. And that the crew is dead.”, he said eventually, still not fully there. 

“I don’t want to believe that.”, said Ceix firmly, and Keller… understood him. He knew of the friendship between the Given’s Commanding Officer and Ceix. His hand curled into a fist, fingernails digging into his palm. The sharp sensation pulled him back from the fog.

It hurt, but it grounded him.

“I understand.”, he said softly, a rare moment of vulnerability. “I propose to send away teams to both vessels. If there is any way of finding out what happened, this is the quickest way to do it. If there are survivors, it is also the fastest way of finding them.”

Pereira gave a thoughtful nod, before asking “What about Biohazards?”

Keller frowned, realizing that – clearly – he wasn’t full there yet. 

Keller frowned. Pereira’s question was a painful reminder of his distracted state. Focus, he chided himself. “Good point, Lieutenant,” he admitted. “We’ll prepare for that. I want Lieutenant Una to lead one of the teams. She’s proven her reliability time and time again. I trust her.”

“Agreed.”, nodded Ceix. 

Keller turned to leave the bridge, his mind already focussed on assembling teams, when Brennan’s voice interrupted him yet again. 

“But before you do, I want to talk to you.”

She didn’t sound as angry as she had the right to be – as he would have been in her position. 

He knew he had overstepped with his earlier comment, and, lately, he’d been overstepping a lot. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Even now, a snide remark sat at the back of his throat, waiting for him to make the mistake of opening his mouth, and he pressed his lips into a thin line to keep it there.

His gaze drifted back to the planet on the view screen, the vibrant greens and blues, and for the first time, he wondered if it was time to acknowledge that maybe… maybe Starfleet wasn’t right for him anymore.

He gave a nod, and followed Brennan into the ready room, feeling both heavier, and more determined, with each step. 


((Ready Room, USS Callisto))

The door slid shut behind them with a soft hiss. Brennan turned, ready to speak, but Keller beat her to it.

„I am sorry, Commander.“, he said, the words spilling out before they had fully formed in his mind, but he meant them. They were unpolished, unprepared, raw, and honest.  “I … tried. I really did. I see the Counselor regularly, I take time off, but… I don‘t think I am coming back from this.”

Brennan lowered her gaze and exhaled, then gestured for Keller to follow her to the conference table. He reluctantly took a seat. 

“I understand.”, she said slowly. “But I think you just need… more time. Ricarda’s death was only a few months ago, it wouldn’t be fair of any of us to expect you to move on as if nothing happened.”

“I tried.”, Jonathan sighed and shook his head. “The truth is… I haven’t felt a single moment of happiness since I returned from the Cupertino. Work is an escape, but always short-lived.” His voice was heavy with resignation and grief. “Once we return to DS17, I will hand in my resignation.“ 

What followed was a long silence. Saying it out loud had made the thought heavier, more real, as if he had just crossed a line he couldn’t step back from. 

Brennan’s expression softened. 

“Is there anything I can do?“, she asked. 

Keller shook his head. “No, I don‘t think so. But until then, I will do better. Neither you nor anyone else deserves to be the outlet to my frustration.“

“No, they should not,” Brennan agreed. “But you’re not alone in this. Perhaps a different counselor would make sense – and some time off.”

He nodded slowly, more out of politeness than agreement. He didn’t want to dismiss her ideas, but in his heart, he knew he was already beyond that.

As Brennan spoke, his mind drifted to a quiet place somewhere far away from the noise and pressures of Starfleet. Somewhere he could finally mourn Ricarda without interruption. Somewhere peaceful, where he could find the time and space to heal.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to lead an away team.”, Brennan said a moment of consideration. Keller’s heart sank, but he couldn’t pretend that he she was wrong. He just… he wanted to help as long as he was still in a position to do so. 

“I know what I can do, and my judgement isn’t clouded.”, he replied quietly. If there’s a way to find out what happened to the crew, we can give their families closure. We owe them that much. And knowing… it makes it better.”

Brennan sighed. “I’m sorry, Jonathan. I can’t allow that. And it’s not because I don’t trust your judgement, or your ability. It’s because you… are carrying enough. What happened to Ricarda, and then what happened to the civilians on that shuttle…”

“But I… I want to help.”, Jonathan said, almost pleading now. 

“I know.”, Brennan said softly. “But my decision is final.”

Keller swallowed a lump in his throat. “Then I propose that Lieutenant Sh’shiqil take my place.”

Brennan hesitated, just for a moment. “Hasn’t she mostly been handling security on the Callisto?”, she asked.

“She has. But with her background, I believe she will be more than suitable to lead an away team. She-…”

“Very well.”, Brennan interrupted. “I know her background. And you are right.”

For a moment, Keller wondered why Brennan had hesitated if she was aware. Then, he remembered, that Brennan and Sh’shiquil were… involved. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, jealousy flaring hot and fast before he could smother it. 

He wanted to lash out, to say something biting and sharp, to let the anger he carried boil over.

But he didn’t. Because he knew that he couldn’t fault others for being happy, just because he was miserable. And he couldn’t fault her for wanting to make sure her loved one was safe.

Instead, he thanked her, and got up. He turned and left the ready room, and, to his surprise, each step felt a little lighter than the last. 

Chapter Four

USS Givens
January 2402

Lieutenant Eshrevi Sh’shiqil had very mixed feelings about the sudden opportunity to lead an away team, and as she made her way to the transporter room, she wondered if feeling so conflicted was something she was willing to do. 

Her boots clicked against the floor, each step falling into the marching rhythm that had once been second nature to her. Despite not having been given the opportunity to serve on away teams ever since she had followed Brennan to the Callisto, those new orders quickly had her settle into the familiar comfort of routine.

To say that she was looking forward to it was perhaps a little much, she was itching to prove that years of service in the Imperial Guard had her more than prepared for anything Starfleet could possibly face. It was something she deemed the best way to gain the trust of her fellow officers, and prove her skill – which begged the question why it had been months since she had last done what she did best. 

Eshrevi‘s antennae quivered in annoyance. More than once she had felt grounded like a disobedient child, locked up on board the Callisto, given a comfortable cage to spend her days far away from danger. 

Among the crew, she knew, was the rumor that her relationship with Brennan had something to do with it, which had earned her equal parts of envy and pity. 

It was something she had meant to address with Brennan, but never quite found the right time or right words to do. 

I guess I can’t afford as much as a broken nail during this mission, or I’ll never see the outside of my quarters again, she sighed, and then shook her head to clear her mind and allow herself to focus on the objective. 

The doors to the main transport room slid open. Inside, Lieutenant Una and her own team had already assembled and stood on the transporter pad, ready to depart. Their destination was the civilian vessel, which, just like the Givens, had not reacted to communications attempts and didn’t register any lifesigns. Eshrevi offered a nod and the approximation of a smile, before climbing into her hazard suit. 

“You think they are dead?”, asked Anderson, a human in his mid-forties who appeared to be the default choice for away teams. 

Eshrevi considered the question for a moment, buying time as she checked, and re-checked, the suit’s seals and systems.

“I don’t know.”, she admitted eventually and turned to Anderson. “I want us to be prepared for the possibility that we might not find anyone alive. And I want us to be prepared for the possibility that we will face whatever the Givens encountered.”

Anderson nodded quietly, and Eshrevi looked at the rest of her team that had gathered around her. Daseks expression was unreadable, while Karev and Jackson furrowed their brows and crossed their arms in a gesture that Eshrevi interpreted as something between spite and defiance.
She was unsure if those feelings were directed at her, or at what she had just said. Humans were weird. Even after years in Starfleet, she didn‘t quite know why they felt and reacted that way.

“But we don’t give up hope.”, she added, a little too quickly, which made it sound like an afterthought when it really just was something she forgot people needed to hear.

“You were part of Search and Rescue teams, right Lieutenant?”, asked Karev. Eshrevi was surprised he knew that about her – they had never really spoken. “Did you just… hope?” 

This time, Eshrevi answered without hesitation. “Yes. I’ve seen situations that seemed beyond dire, but we still did our best. I’ve learned that chances of survival might be slim, but they are never zero.”

Karev seemed to approve, and Eshrevi led the way onto the transporter pad. Once the others had joined her, she raised her weapon. Experience had taught her to rather be prepared and look slightly stupid, than to be unprepared and look dead. 

And Brennan would kill her if she ended up dead.


When Eshrevi once again felt solid ground beneath her feet, she found herself on the only faintly illuminated bridge of the Givens. It was eerily empty, save for the away team.

“Scan for lifesigns,” she said calmly, keeping her weapon raised. Her eyes swept over the unnervingly pristine bridge. The silence was oppressive, the stillness almost suffocating. Many of the polished consoles were powered down, their surfaces reflecting the faint glow of the overhead panels. The familiar hum of ship engines and console activity was conspicuously absent, leaving the room unsettlingly quiet.

“Nothing,” Anderson said, taking a deep breath. “No bio-markers indicating any bodies, either. But I am picking up interference- it might explain the readings.”

“What kind of interference?”, Dasek asked. 

“The interference seems to be linked to an unusual spike in gamma-wave activity,” Anderson said. His brow furrowed as he studied the readings. “We would typically associate them with advanced neural activity in telepathic species, but…” He looked at the deserted bridge.  “There’s no one here.” 

“Can you see where the gamme-wave activity originates from?”, Eshrevi asked. 

Anderson shook his head. “Not a chance with this thing.” He raised his tricorder. “I could utilize the Given’s internal scanners to find out more.”

Eshrevi nodded. “Do it. Karev, you stay with him. I will take Anderson and see if we can find anything in the ready room.”

Or anyone. 

Dasek moved over to the powered-down science station while Eshrevi turned and led the way towards the ready room, which greeted them in the same fashion as the bridge – quiet and deserted. 

There were no scuff marks on the floor, no signs of hurried movement, no discarded PADDs or forgotten coffee cups, nothing to suggest life had ever existed here. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought the Givens had freshly come out of the shipyards.

Anderson walked over to the Captain’s desk, and moved the chair to the side as he leaned in to assay the readout before typing a few commands. 

“The escape pods have not been launched, but two shuttles are missing.”, he said. His eyes flicked up to Eshrevi before he continued. “I-… he started, then he frowned.” 

“What?”

“I checked the crew manifest. It’s empty.”

“Empty?”, Eshrevi said incredulously, and joined Anderson at the desk – not because she didn’t trust him, but because what he had discovered seemed so utterly absurd. 

“Check Commander Shivni’s service record.”, she prompted, not sure what she was expecting. She knew that the Commander had recently assumed the centre chair for her first assignment as commanding officer, and had an excellent reputation as a reliable officer and capable leader. 

But there it was. 

Eshrevi leaned in closer, as if that would change what she was seeing. According to her service record, Commander Shivni had resigned from Starfleet ten days ago. 

“That can’t be right…”, Anderson frowned, and looked up Lieutenant Commander Ryan Malkovich, the Given’s First Officer, only to get the same result. 

“Ten days ago…”, Eshrevi frowned. “Pull up the crew manifest from before that date, and check the rest of the crew.”

Anderson’s eyes widened as he input the query and received the corresponding results. According to this, every single crewmember had resigned within a period of three days. 

“That…”, Eshrevi started, was interrupted by a chirp of her badge. 

“Lieutenant.”, Dasek said, with some urgency in his voice. “The gamma-waves seem to come from somewhere outside this vessel, so I recalibrated the shields to mitigate it. It doesn’t change anything however. Still no lifesigns, still no bio-markers.”

“Thank you.”, Eshrevi answered. “We accessed the crew manifest – it’s empty. And it looks like the whole crew retired from Starfleet around the same time.”

“When?”, asked Dasek. 

“Around ten days ago.”

“Let me check something.”, said Karev in the background. A few moments of silence followed. Then… 

“I’ve checked the transporter logs. It looks like the crew beamed down to Asada’s surface.”

Eshrevi froze. So they had collectively left Starfleet, abandoned their ship, and sought refuge on a pre-warp planet?

“Can you access… anything? Mission logs, person logs, I don’t care about privacy.”, she said eventually. 

“I can, but I need a moment.”

“Understood.”, Eshrevi answered, then turned to Anderson. “Let’s head back to the bridge. I have the feeling we want to get out of here as soon as possible. Captain Ceix will want to know about this.”

The way back to the bridge seemed longer than it had any right to be. Eshrevi was still learning to care about things such as the Prime Directive, and the implications the crew’s arrival would have on the development of the native species. But the idea of a whole crew abandoning their ship had something unsettling about it. 

What had forced them to take such drastic measures?

At the same time, she felt relief wash over her. They weren’t dead. Not dead was very good. It was fixable.

“Lieutenant, you’ll want to see this. Or rather, hear this.”, said Karev, before asking the computer to replay the selected segment of Commander Shivni’s last personal log.

I am excited, more than I have ever been before. When I took command of the Givens, I was certainly happy – but nothing compares to this. 

This new life is perhaps not what I envisioned, but what I need. I know Starfleet will quickly have me replaced, and I can only hope that my family will understand. 

I’ve always struggled to find my place in Starfleet, and in the galaxy as a whole. Now, I understand that every setback and every success has led me here, where I am meant to be.

 

Chapter Five

Brennan's quarters, USS Callisto
January 2402

Alcyone Brennan’s head throbbed. The dull ache had been a constant companion during a grueling day on Deck Four.

The Callisto’s Strategic Operations Office was more spacious and accommodating than the Ready Room and included a replicator that made the beat tea aboard the Callisto – but those were its only redeeming qualities. Over the span of several hours, Alcyone had attended meeting after meeting to discuss strategies, potential risks and complications, but instead of solutions, it seemed they only uncovered additional challenges. 

With the information the away team had gathered – detailing that both the crews of the USS Givens and the civilian research vessel Qualle had joyfully abandoned their respective ship and beamed down to Asada – it was clear to them that leaving to report back to DS17 wasn’t an option.

Asada was home to a pre-warp civilization, several centuries away from developing spaceflight. A full crew of Starfleet officers on the surface could irreparably disrupt the planet’s natural development, and was a flagrant violation of the Prime Directive.

Attempts to locate the missing crew had of course been made, but Asada’s natural gamma-radiation rendered scans useless. By the time they adjourned, they were no closer to an answer. The debate had stalled on whether they could risk taking a shuttle to survey the area, or if that would only add more complications. 

Alcyone was drained, and craved the warm comfort of her bed.  But tonight, she had something even better planned – something she had been looking forward to all day.

Once Alcyone had arrived in her quarters, a quick glance at the chronometer told her that Eshrevi’s shift would be over any minute now, and she hurried into the shower, eager to wash away the lingering stench of pointless meetings.  Afterward, she pulled on an outfit she deemed to be a good compromise between what Eshrevi liked, and her own preferences. She even put on that daring lipstick – a deep, maroon shape she usually didn’t have the confidence to wear. 

After a moment of consideration, she decided on one last finishing touch. A lipstick with a deep maroon shade she had never quite felt bold enough to wear. Tonight felt like the right occasion.

Within minutes, the table was set, and Alcyone found herself waiting.

As she settled into the quiet and had a moment to slow down, She realized just how uneasy she had been when Keller had suggested Eshrevi for one of the away teams. Alcyone knew that the Andorian was an exceptional and experienced security officer, and trusted her implicitly. Despite what some people seemed to think, she would never stand in the way of her doing what she did best. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t been worried, and that knowing Eshrevi was safely back on the Callisto brought her a sense of peace.

Her gaze drifted to the chronometer, and her brows furrowed. Eshrevi should have returned easily half an hour ago. It wasn’t like her to be late, but then, perhaps something had delayed her. Not the first time that happened. Usually, though, Eshrevi would let her know.

Alcyone sighed. She reached for a PADD containing the novel she was currently reading, but found that she couldn’t focus.  And once another twenty minutes had passed, she tapped her badge.

“Brennan to Sh’shiqil.”

“Yes, Commander?”, Eshrevi’s voice came through the comm. For a split second, Alcyone hesitated. The formality caught her off guard, even though it was how Eshrevi usually addressed anyone – even her, when they were in public. Tonight, though, it felt… off.

“I was wondering if you were delayed,” Alcyone said, mirroring the formality. “I was waiting.”

There was a short pause, before Eshrevi’s tone softened. “I’m sorry. I … forgot.”

Alcyone’s heart sank. She didn’t want to be upset, but the sting of ‘being forgotten’ was impossible to ignore. She yes, she was upset.

“I understand,” she said carefully, fighting to keep her voice calm. “Where are you? The gym?”

“No.” A pause. “I’m at Ursa Major. Having dinner with Naeric.”

“With… who?”

Alcyone found that her brain was taking its sweet time to catch up with what was happening. Eshrevi had forgotten her. She was – voluntarily – spending her time at Ursa Major, the main social hub she usually avoided. She was having dinner with someone called Naeric. 

“Naeric.” 

“That doesn’t tell me anything. Who is Naeric?” Alcyone’s voice pitched higher than she intended. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply to calm herself. It wasn’t fair to let the stress of the day spill over into her private life.

“Zion, you know Nearic.”, Eshrevi replied, her disapproval translating through her words and intonation while Alcyone closed her eyes and tried to figure out if the name told her anything. It really did not. 

“Sorry, remind me?”, she tried, but was met with a sigh. 

“Zion, you know Naeric.” The disapproval in Eshrevi’s tone was undeniable. Alcyone closed her eyes and searched her memory, trying to figure out if the name told her anything. It really did not. 

“Sorry, remind me?” she asked.

“My friend.” There was another pause, and a muffled conversation in the background.  “Zion, I’m sorry I forgot. It’s been a stressful day. I can cut this short and come home.”

“No… “, Alcyone said, when really she wanted to say: Yes, do that. “It’s no trouble at all. Just… have fun. I’ll probably just go to bed early.”

“If you say so,” Eshrevi replied, her voice almost indifferent.

The comm line closed with a chirp, and Alcyone sat there, staring at the now-cold dinner on the table. She blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill over. She had been looking forward to this all day, and she… hadn’t expected Eshrevi to forget her. 

And there was something else. They were both new to the Callisto, and Alcyone couldn’t claim that she had made any friends yet. It surprised her that Eshrevi, who didn’t understand smalltalk and defaulted to disliking people, had.

She got up slowly, recycled the untouched meal, and removed the lipstick. 

 


 

And then, she tried to relax. She even lit a candle to find comfort in prayer, and have the opportunity to talk about what had happened, and why it bothered her so much. Usually, that little ritual gave her comfort. But right now, it proved beyond difficult to focus on when her mind kept drifting to Ursa Major the second she didn’t keep it otherwise occupied. Eventually, she gave up. With a deep sigh, she decided that there was no relaxing until she… what? Confront Eshrevi? Was she really that jealous?

It wasn’t like her at all.

And yet, despite knowing better, Alcyone found herself leaving her quarters, wandering the corridors in the direction of Deck Seven, where Ursa Major was likely brimming with activity right now. She told herself she wasn’t doing anything unusual. She would just join the crowd, meet some new people, maybe make a few friends of her own. That was reasonable, wasn’t it? Besides, what harm was there in sneaking a glance at this Naeric person while she was there?

She had almost convinced herself as she neared the turbolift, but was abruptly interrupted by a calm, familiar voice.

“Commander,” said Counselor Seta, stepping into view. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I’m just tired.”, Alcyone said with a small smile.  

“I can imagine. But… you look nice. Are you going somewhere?” Counselor Seta asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Alcyone could simply pretend to have planned an evening at Ursa Major, but she wasn’t a big fan of lying.

“I…” Alcyone sighed, and her shoulder sagged. “I had a date. The person I had a date with… forgot.”

“Commander, with all due respect, everyone knows that this person is Lieutenant Sh’shiquil.”

“Oh.”

Seta tilted her head. “I don’t know the Lieutenant well, but it doesn’t seem like her to forget something like that.”

“She’s…” Alcyone hesitated. “Well, she made a friend. I didn’t even know she had made a friend. I always thought I was the one who made friends easily and had to drag her to social events.”

“And that’s a positive thing right? Even if it is unexpected change to your dynamic.”

Alcyone nodded slowly. “I suppose so. It’s just… she never mentioned him before. He goes by the name Naeric.”

Naeric?” Seta’s lips curved into a smile. “Oh, that makes sense. It’s no surprise they’ve become friends. Naeric is one of my colleagues. He’s very kind, an excellent listener, and even I turn to him for advice.”

“A counselor?” Alcyone blinked in surprise. She really didn’t know Eshrevi at all, did she? As far she knew, the Andorian avoided both doctors and counsellors like the plague. 

“And a good one,” Seta said warmly. “I know you didn’t ask for my advice, but I’ll give it anyway. Let them be friends. But when Lieutenant Sh’shiquil gets back, talk to her.”

Alcyone hesitated, then offered a smile. “I… will do that. Thank you, Counselor.”

As they parted ways, Alcyone felt slightly better. Slightly. 

She decided to work until Eshrevi returned. There was no point trying to relax when her mind wouldn’t let her. 

But as she settled into her chair and opened a report, curiosity did get the better of her after all. Maybe just a quick look at this Naeric person. If she still felt unsettled, perhaps she could even schedule an appointment with him. It wasn’t that weird, was it?

She entered the name into the query field, and was surprised when she didn’t get a result. Perhaps a civilian counselor? The Callisto had several families on board, so it wasn’t entirely far-fetched. But that search led nowhere, either.

Frowning, she leaned back in her chair. Perhaps it was just a nickname, and that was why she didn’t find anyone going by that name. She should let it go, wait, and ask Eshrevi directly. That would be the mature thing to do.

Unfortunately, it seemed that she wasn’t being particularly mature today. 

And so, for the second time in the span of a mere hour at best, Alcyone left her quarters, this time headed to sickbay. Her headache had worsened anyway, and despite the fact that she held her own medical degree, she knew that the doctors frowned on her self-prescribing analgesics. 

When she arrived, she spotted doctor Trova just finishing up with an Ensign who sheepishly glanced at her as he limped away, clearly having overdone his workout routine. 

“Commander, what can I do for you?”, the Bajoran doctor asked with a polite smile. 

“Just a headache.”, Alcyone said, knowing full well that this wasn’t why she had come. Trova nodded and gestured for her to take a seat on one of the biobeds. 

“How long have you had it?”, she asked and reached for the medical tricorder.

“It started somewhere between the fourth and fifth meeting today.”, Alcyone sighed. “I know I should be taking breaks, but there just wasn’t any time.”

“I get it. What happened with the Givens has us all on edge.” The doctor nodded empathetically as she scanned Alcyone.  “But you do have time to have a glass of water. You’re dehydrated.”

“I… yes. I forgot.”, Alcyone admitted, though she was pretty sure that she had been good about that. 

“It happens. I’ll give you something for the pain. Try to take it easy for the rest of the evening. Easier said than done, I know.”

While the doctor prepared the medication, Alcyone hesitated. Finally, she asked “I was wondering… Counselor Naeric – I don’t know his full name – has he been here long?”

“Naeric? Oh yes, for years. I’m relatively new here, just like you, but I’ve only ever heard good things.”

“I couldn’t find him on the crew manifest. What’s his full name?”

Trova hesitated. Her fingers paused over the hypospray, “I… just… Naeric.”, she said slowly “That’s what everyone calls him – I’m sorry, I’m awful with names.” 

Alcyone managed to grin, but it felt forced. “I can relate. What’s his rank? Or is he a civilian?”

“He’s… hm.”, Trova hesitated. She frowned, as if trying to dredge up a far away memory “He’s… hm.. I’m not sure. That’s odd.”

“Not at all.”, Alcyone assured her, while finding this very odd indeed “We’re all busy.”

Trova administered the hypospray and offered a reassuring smile. “We are. And it’s getting late as it is – I think we both need rest.”

“Of course.”, Alcyone nodded, thanked the doctor, and left sickbay. 

She did actually feel better – the headache was gone, and now she was sure that she wasn’t just jealous. Something wasn’t right.  

Chapter Six

USS Callisto
January 2402

The water closed over her head, ice cold and dark, pressing the air out of her lungs as another wave crashed over her. She tried to remain calm, to think logically, to regain focus, but bit by bit, every ounce of control melted away, leaving nothing but the raw instinct to survive.

She could still see the surface, a faint source of light and hope that grew smaller and farther away with each breath she couldn’t take, and each futile movement as she clawed toward it. The invisible ladder grew taller with every second, and the salvation of the world above remained an unkept promise. 

I need to breathe, she thought, but resisted the urge, even as the burning in her chest deepened, searing through her lungs. She clamped her mouth shut, knowing it was only a matter of time before her body betrayed her. 

No, she screamed at herself as she closed her eyes. Focus. You can do this. Stop struggling, and concentrate on the water. This is your storm to calm. You are in control.

But when she opened her mouth, it wasn’t a choice. It was the primal urge to breathe, even if she sucked in water instead of air. The coughing came next, sharp and violent but futile, water replaced by water, and her mind began to cloud, replacing panic with a strange, hollow calm.

For an instant, just before everything faded, there was peace. A memory surfaced – something small, warm, and unimportant. And then even that was gone. 

 

Una’s eyes snapped open. She gasped, drawing in the cool, crisp air that filled her lungs and banished the lingering taste of a phantom sea.

Slowly, the room around her filled with disembodied voices, far away and muffled at first, but quickly sharpening into merry conversations and heated discussions. Una blinked, dazed still, the bright light an uncomfortable contrast to the darkness that had swallowed her before. She stood, desperate to feel solid ground underneath her feet.

No one, not even the other officers she sat with, noticed. The mediation had been supposed to calm her, give her clarity, but had done nothing of the sort. Instead, she had failed abysmally. 

“I know.”, said the Caitan woman next to her, addressing Jonathan Keller, who sat to Una’s other side. “I’m just glad I asked him about it first. Can you believe what would have happened if I had just gone ahead and done it?”

“After Ricarda passed away, I wasn’t myself. I’m still finding out who I am without her, but it helps,” Keller admitted.

“He’s good to talk to,” another officer agreed, glancing toward Keller.

Una sighed, though only internally. He. Naeric. They had been talking about him for what seemed like hours now, a conversation she simply did not have anything to add to. She didn’t like feeling left out, and she particularly didn’t like feeling like there should be nothing to be left out of – because as far as she was concerned, Naeric didn’t exist. At least the computer hadn’t recognized the name, and it had never come up before. 

Overwhelmed by the ceaseless chatter – and the feeling of utter invisibility  – Una murmured, “I’ll be heading to my quarters,” even as her colleagues continued their discussion. 

When she made her way through the ship, she was still arguing with herself as to what to do, and if there was truly something that needed to be addressed with a senior officer. Was she being difficult about something, and was she simply afraid of being excluded, or was there something else that unsettled her about the situation?
She wasn’t entirely sure, but she knew someone who would help her find out.


 

“I wanted to speak to you about something. It’s important.”

Alcyone Brennan hadn’t expected Lieutenant Una to request a meeting with her – even though Keller had expressed his wishes to retire from Starfleet, he was still her superior officer – but she welcomed the distraction.

“What is it?”, she asked curiously. She paused, then gestured for Una to sit.

“It might sound strange.”, the Lieutenant started, her tone an odd mix of vulnerability and professionalism Brennan had only ever noticed from half-Vulcans such as Una. “I have… I am unsure to say this. Over the past two days,  I have noticed that several individuals of the crew have changed their behaviour. I find that… worrisome.”

“Changed their behaviour?” Brennan echoed.

“Yes,” Una continued. “They seem subjectively happier, yet less focused and more secretive. Sometimes, when I join a group, the conversation abruptly halts. And if it continues, it is on a topics I know nothing about.”

Brennan frowned. “Did anything happen that would make them react that way?”

“Nothing at all.” Una shook her head, a distinctly human gesture. “After we returned from the away mission – uneventful as it was – everything felt normal. Then these changes began.”

“That is odd.”, Brennan agreed, finding that the account Una was giving matched her own observations.

“There is something else. The same individuals have been talking about someone. Someone who I have never met and whose name the computer doesn’t recognise.”

The Callisto’s First Officer had tried to remain neutral, but at this latest revelation, she found herself staring at Una. “Naeric.”, she said eventually.

Una tilted her head, expressing surprise at Brennan’s statement. “You know him?”

She shook her head. “No. But I have noticed the same as you have. I have spent the night trying to figure out who they mean, but came up with nothing.”

“I believe this to be something we need to address, perhaps with the Captain.”, Una suggested, and Brennan nodded slowly, allowing the idea to linger. Ceix was occupied with figuring out how to retrieve the crew of the Givens, and battling his own personal feelings towards Commander Shivni. 

“I agree. Though, before we do, I think we need to figure out who else noticed. We can’t have been the only two.”, she said eventually.

“I believe Ensign Ho’va and Lieutenant Kafina are experiencing the same.”, Una mused. “I have observed them – they seemed put off by the others’ conversations, and did not include themselves.”

Brennan considered this for a good few seconds. “Then…  I suggest we team up and seek them out. Find out what they know, or what they don’t know. And then we bring this to the Captain. ”

“Agreed.”, Una said, rising from her chair. “And… Thank you for listening. In the past two days, no one has.”

Brennan gave a slow nod. She understood – she had tried to speak to Eshrevi after their failed date night, but the conversation had led nowhere. “I know what that feels like. We will figure out what’s going on. I will seek out Lieutenant Kafina, I suggest you speak with Ho’va. And.. perhaps there are others.”

“Agreed” Una said once again, gave a nod, and left.

Chapter Seven

USS Callisto
January 2402

The hours between Brennan‘s and Una‘s last conversation felt longer than they had any right to. Alcyone wasn’t an empath, but she could swear that she felt the mood on the Callisto shift with every passing second, moving from careful optimism to misplaced euphoria.

Eventually, just before the waiting became unbearable, their group of renegades assembled in her quarters.

Brennan’s heart sank as she regarded the skeptical faces in front of her. A small group of individuals she had perhaps worked with but had not gotten the chance to know. Having them here in her living room felt out of place, far too personal, and like they were doing something secretive and wrong.

“She just stopped talking to me,” said the newly minted Lieutenant Junior Grade Leski, earning a look of sympathy from the dark-haired woman next to him.

“I understand your frustration,” she replied. “I encountered the same thing. It’s… unpleasant, but surely there is a reason. We just need to find out what is happening.”

Instead of chiming in with her own experiences over the last two days, Brennan pressed her lips into a thin line and crossed her arms in front of her chest … before uncrossing them again and forcing herself into a more open, more approachable posture.

The word pathetic popped into her mind, unbidden and unwelcome. It was very much a reflection of how she scolded herself for her own insecurity regarding the situation with Eshrevi. She might have even gone as far as to dismiss her concerns – and those present – entirely, if it weren’t for the several Vulcans in the room, remaining silent amid the emotional exchange.

“What I am noticing,” said Una, who spoke up after what she seemed to deem an appropriate amount of time to let Leski and Sila, the woman next to him, have their moment of self-pity, “is that the individuals assembled here all share one defining trait.”

“What’s that? Abandonment issues?” huffed Lieutenant Humias, who wasn’t generally known for his great bedside manner but had good chances of becoming their new Chief Medical Officer regardless.

“No,” Una replied calmly, entirely unbothered. “We are all, in one way or another, telepathically gifted.”

Brennan’s eyes widened a fraction as Una pointed out what should have been obvious. She glanced around the room once more, finding herself nodding in assent. It was true. She herself was part Rodulan – a highly telepathic people – and those present all seemed to belong to species that were gifted with some flavor of telepathic ability.

The others seemed to come to the same conclusion, and eventually, even Humias conceded.

“I suppose it would make sense on a purely physiological level,” he said. He paused, as if waiting for someone to ask him to elaborate, then simply continued. “Different neural patterns.”

“It could also have something to do with how the gamma radiation coming from the planet is affecting us,” said Coss, an Astronomics officer presently researching Asada.

“Then again, it would be odd if it affected a specialized vessel like the Callisto,” remarked Leski. “It’s standard procedure to modify our shields accordingly or report any difficulty in doing so.”

“Well,” Coss shrugged, “with us focusing on retrieving the crew of the USS Givens, the officers dedicated to modifying the shields might have been substantially fewer than they should have been.”

“But even then,” Brennan said, “even if the gamma radiation causes some sort of hallucination, this one seems to be shared and very specific. Members of the crew have been talking about this Naeric individual independently from one another… And from what I’ve found out, experiences have been widely positive. If this is a hallucination, it shouldn’t affect everyone in exactly the same way.”

“That’s right,” agreed Sila. “When people experience hallucinations, they are usually based on their past experiences. That’s why drugs affect people in different ways and often emphasize an already existing mood.”

“I… this might be far-fetched, but I’m wondering if this might be a telepathic presence,” said Leski slowly.

“We are specialized in those encounters. We would have noticed,” remarked Humias, furrowing his brows.

“But like Coss said… we’re busy. It’s not our main focus right now,” Leski said defensively, looking relieved as Sila once more came to his aid.

“Telepathic species vary from one another, as does their telepathy. As far as I’ve learned, Rodulan telepathy is very different from that of Betazoids.”

She looked at Brennan, who shifted uncomfortably and had to resist the urge to cross her arms again. “It’s true,” she said eventually. “I have never encountered anyone whose telepathy is quite like mine, and a connection is often either painful or not possible.”

“I think we should bring this to Captain Ceix sooner rather than later,” suggested Sila.

“I agree,” Brennan nodded. She knew that the captain was preoccupied with the question of how to extract the crew of the USS Givens from Asada’s surface, as well as with his own personal feelings toward the Givens’ commanding officer. Still, she needed his experience.

Leski chewed on his lip before finally convincing himself to speak again. “There’s just one problem,” he said slowly. “I have heard Ceix talk about Naeric.”

The silence that followed this revelation was deafening and lasted several seconds.

“It shouldn’t matter,” Brennan said abruptly, and to her own surprise. “I know I haven’t been First Officer for long, but I trust Captain Ceix. Even if he is also affected by what is happening, I don’t believe he will simply dismiss our concerns. Whatever or whoever this Naeric person is… perhaps Ceix will doubt that there is something wrong with him, but as a Captain, his priority remains the well-being of his ship and crew.”

She drew in a sharp breath. “And in addition, he is very experienced. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has encountered something similar before—maybe not as Captain Ceix, but perhaps through the several lifetimes of his symbiont.”

“If you think it’s the right decision, I would like to come with you, Commander,” said Una.

Brennan, who seemed to have talked herself up with that little speech, gave a nod. “In the meantime… Leski, Sila, and…” she gestured vaguely to those whose names she didn’t know, “I would appreciate it if you could research the matter further. Check if you can pick up any unusual readings of psionic energy. Go through the ship logs of the Givens and the Qualle and see if there is anything the other teams overlooked. Or weren’t supposed to find.”

 



Once Una and Brennan arrived at the ready room, they found Captain Ceix in quiet discussion with Lieutenant Commander Keller. Brennan’s first thought was that their Chief of Security had earned himself another reprimand for being an utterly awful individual to everyone around him, but this discussion seemed to be of an entirely different nature.

Keller looked relaxed, calm, almost serene. Ceix, on the other hand, looked alarmed. He glanced at both women as they entered and gave Keller one last nod before dismissing him.

“Commander,” he said once they were alone. “Impeccable timing. I was just about to speak to you.”

Brennan tried a smile, though it lacked its usual brightness. “I meant to talk to you too, so that’s a happy coincidence. I have Lieutenant Una with me, if you don’t mind.”

Ceix shook his head. “I do not. As a matter of fact, I wanted to speak to her too.” He took a seat at his desk and took a moment to organize his thoughts. “Unfortunately, I have to inform you that Lieutenant Commander Keller has decided to resign from Starfleet.”

Brennan flinched. “He told me the same. I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk it through before he finalized his decision.”

“It seems his mind is already made up,” Ceix said, reaching for his cup of coffee. “But there’s more than that. He has asked for permission to beam himself and his two children down to the planet.”

Brennan’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“That is what I am trying to find out,” Ceix replied. “I will admit that, over the years, there have been moments where I considered settling down somewhere peaceful, without the pressure of Starfleet life. I can understand that Jonathan wants to protect his children. After his wife’s death, Starfleet doesn’t seem like a safe place anymore – but then, it never claimed to be.”

“We can’t let him beam down to the planet,” Una protested.

Ceix gave a nod. “I agree. We are working on extracting the Givens’ crew, not adding more people and further interfering with the natural development of the native species. On the other hand, the fact that he suddenly wants to go down to the planet might give us insight into why the others have done the same.”

“But we can’t let him leave,” Brennan agreed.

“For the time being, I have no intention of allowing it. I told him he would be confined to his quarters. I was prepared for him to argue against it.”

“But he didn’t…,” Brennan sighed.

“No… he didn’t. He told me there was nothing I could do to convince him otherwise, but that he understood I only wanted the best for him. He has agreed to remain in his quarters, and I have withdrawn his transporter privileges.”

He let those words linger before looking at Lieutenant Una. “Congratulations,” he said. “It looks like you are Acting Chief of Security.”

If Una was surprised, it didn’t show on her face. “Thank you, Captain. I will not disappoint.”

“I know you won’t,” Ceix replied. Then, he turned to Brennan. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Brennan, whose thoughts had been preoccupied with Keller, straightened. “Sir, we have noticed several changes in the crew’s behavior. We have also noticed that many of them are referencing an individual—someone we have not heard of before.”

“And who is that?” Ceix asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“They call him Naeric.”

“Naeric?” Ceix repeated incredulously, though there was an undercurrent of amusement in his tone. “Zion, I know you haven’t been here long, but Una—I would have expected more from you. Naeric has been a valued member of the crew for years. He has been an excellent advisor, someone who has shown reliability, dedication, and loyalty to the Callisto.”

Brennan bit her lip. She had been prepared for something like this, but not for the condescending tone that colored Ceix’s voice in such an uncharacteristic way.

“With all due respect… I… If I may ask – what is Naeric’s function here?”

“He is a counselor,” Ceix said, frowning at what seemed to him like a stupid question.

Brennan continued. “Is he a civilian counselor, or is he Starfleet?”

“Starfleet,” Ceix answered. Though there was the slightest hesitation in his voice.

Brennan pressed on. “Then why is there no mention of him in the ship’s database?”

“I can assure you that he is, Commander.” Ceix rose from his chair, clearly unwilling to indulge them any further.

“But sir, if you could check, you would see that-…”

“The situation has us all on edge. But I would suggest you focus your energy on the matter at hand and not on a witch hunt. I am sure you will get to know Naeric sooner or later.”

“Captain,” Una tried, but to no avail.

“Dismissed.”

 


 

Una and Brennan left the bridge in tense silence.

“I suppose we should let the others know that, well, there seems to be nothing to worry about,” said Brennan slowly, though she did not quite believe her own words.

“At the very least, we have received a direct order to invest our energy elsewhere,” Una nodded, though she, too, didn’t seem convinced.

At that moment, Brennan’s combadge chirped.

“Commander,” came Leski’s shaky voice. “There is something you should know. If this is a good time…”

“It is,” Brennan confirmed. “Did you find out anything?”

“We looked through the ship logs of the USS Givens and the Qualle. There was no mention of Naeric on the crew manifest, but…” A pause. “We accessed the personal logs. He’s mentioned in all of them. And… according to the dates, he has been on both vessels at the same time – and only since they entered Asada’s orbit.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

The comm line closed, and Una looked at Brennan. “I do not know if we should bring this to the Captain again.”

Brennan considered for a moment. “No. Ceix seems to be affected by whatever this is, and the way he reacted was… strange. I’d rather not find myself in the brig for asking too many questions.”

“Then what do we do?”

Brennan would have loved to have a reply – but she didn’t. If most of the crew was affected, it was bad enough. But if the captain was no longer able to make sound decisions…

“We need a plan,” Brennan said firmly. “I just have to come up with one.”