Thalora Colony surface

Tiberius had beamed down with a relatively small away team. In part because he was getting some hostile vibes from the prophet and he didn’t want the man feeling like this was some kind of invasion, but also because he wanted to maintain a small footprint. His team comprised his chief of security, Lt. Jel’kan, a small detail of two additional personnel, and his chief medical officer just to make sure everything was on the up and up.

They’d beamed down in the center of the colony. He glanced around curiously and noted the architecture was prefab structures with a more function over form slant. There were some raised planter beds here and there. They obviously would not be winning any design awards here. There were some hints of personality beginning to emerge here and there, though. Little accents in building facades, small touches that might soon become large-scale flourishes and hints at where things would eventually go.

“Pay attention to how a people go about their structural design. It speaks to their principles, how they view themselves. How they feel about structures and their place in society,” his old man used to tell him.

There wasn’t a lot here for him to study, since this was such a new colony. Most of it came out of industrial replicators. But he could see the hints of a culture in its birth stages. From what he’d read, this was a very religious colony. They worshipped the Great Nest. Conceptually, the religious equivalence to the Borg. The similarities concerned him, but he wanted to come here to learn. So he wouldn’t make snap judgements.

“Burn away your ignorance with information and curiosity. Don’t let preconceptions blind you to truth and reality.”

His father’s wisdom would surface as he took in the sights, dragging up tiny nuggets that became contextually important. The prophet and what Tib assumed to be aides waited alongside him a short distance from where they’d beamed in. He wasn’t a stern-looking man, nor was he all together very joyous looking either. He seemed like he carried a weight on his shoulders. The burden of leadership, perhaps?

“Greetings Captain, I’m Prophet Varik Corvus. Welcome to Tholara.”

“Prophet Corvus. A pleasure. Our records held little cultural information. I’m at a loss for any social customs for greetings here.”

The prophet smiled, some of his initial resistance and hostility bleeding away. Everyone was always eager to talk about themselves. The prophet was no exception, and Tib expected he was even more prone to this than most, given his station.

“Pressing your hands together and raising them to your head bowed is sufficient. Like so.”

The prophet executed the gesture, and gestured for Tiberius to try it, so Tib did so.

“Good. You catch on fast.”

Tiberius beamed at him with a friendly smile.

“Mom always said the fastest way to make a friend is to learn about them first. So that’s why I came. I wanted to learn about your culture and have a look around. Maybe in that regard, we might figure out why we received that distress signal.”

The prophet gestured for him to follow, and the robed man led them through a vast garden of vegetables, fruits and flowers of a variety that Tiberius didn’t immediately recognize.

“It troubles me deeply, this message you received. I had hoped that if one of our congregation disagreed, that they might simply voice their feelings.”

“Are such feelings and disagreements discouraged?”

“Quite the contrary. Part of our belief in the Great Nest requires a sort of commitment to the community. A willingness to sacrifice the needs of the self for the needs of the whole. That someone is slinking around and sending distress signals in secret feels… like a betrayal, if I’m being honest.”

“Doesn’t sound like there’s a lot of room for individuality or free thinking.”

“To a degree. Over indulgence of the self can lead to a negative effect on the community. We do not just ourselves, but others a disservice by focusing too much on ourselves. Selfish desires can have toxic side effects in the Great Nest. We like to encourage open-mindedness, but overindulgence can be unhealthy.”

“Have you spoken to your people about how they’ve been feeling lately? Anyone voiced any issues aloud recently?”

“No, none. We’re a proud and happy people with few needs and fewer wants. The Great Nest sees to anything we could need or want.”

“That’s pretty helpful of the Great Nest. How does it do that?”

“Through our faith. We provide it with worship, and in return it provides us with boons.”

Tiberius nodded. Vague and basic. But he could work with that. At its most basic level, it sounded fairly transactional.

“So what if, say… you needed a special atmospheric shield to keep out a rather nasty solar flare? You just pray to the Great Nest and one appears?”

The prophet gave him an endearing smile. “Not quite. It doesn’t just manifest out of thin air. To use your example, though, we’d be lucky enough to be graced with a merchant ship passing through who just has what we need at a price we can afford.”

Tib nodded pensively. There were plenty of possible explanations. But even he had to admit it was highly unlikely that every time they needed some, a merchant just appeared bearing whatever goods they might need. The whole thing was giving him Farpoint Station vibes. Something else was in play, somehow or in some way. Perhaps the Great Nest really was just simply doing as the good prophet said and looking out for its worshippers.

In his experience, though, there was always another shoe just waiting to drop, eventually. The question was? Did the distress call mean that was coming sooner than anyone here knew? And how bad would that be?

“Well, that’s extremely helpful, I have to say. So no problems with food supply, then I take it?”

“None. A rather generous ferengi sold us a sizeable yield of seeds that got our crops started at our initial founding. He was quite generous.”

Tib paused, sharing a look with Jel’kan. He didn’t want to stereotype, but that didn’t exactly sound like a typical ferengi. Was the prophet trying to lie to him? Or did he honestly believe what he said?

“Prophet Corvus, would it be okay if me and my people had a look around? Spoke to your congregation?”

“Of course.”

Tib nodded when the prophet gestured for them to proceed and turned around. As he and the others departed the garden, Jel’kan strode alongside him.

“A generous ferengi?” He asked. Incredulity in his voice.

“Yeah, doesn’t sit with me right either.”

“Why do I feel like we’re being watched and not in a good way?” Dr. Venrith asked. Concern in her eyes.

All around them, they weren’t exactly glared at, but they weren’t warmly received either. Tiberius shrugged.

“It’s just an insular community. Outsiders probably aren’t common, so they aren’t really sure how to handle us. It’s not like they get a lot of visitors.”

Tib found someone outside speaking to someone else who didn’t appear to have the same level of apprehension to their presence, so he decided he’d make that his first touch point. He strode over bearing his trademark smile and gave a small wave.

“Hey there. I’m Captain Tiberius Rain, with Starfleet. I was wondering if you had a few moments free to chat.”

“To… chat?”

“Yeah, have a conversation. Exchange ideas and feelings.”

“Ah, like communion within the Great Nest. But with words.”

“Sure!” Tib said with an enthusiastic smile.

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

“Well, a name for start. I’m Tiberius, but please, just call me Tib.”

The man nodded with a smile.

“Roland.”

“What do you do Roland?”

“Well, I guess you could say I’m our resident healer.”

“Does the Great Nest get credit for that as well?” Dr. Venrith asked curiously. Clearly she’d keyed on the attribution of credit via circumstance.

“Aheh, not quite. No. That’s very much my hands at play. But the Great Nest offers me wisdom and provides me with instruction when I find my own lacking.”

“So it helps, but it’s not the one doing the heavy lifting. I can get down with that.”

“Why would you get down?” Roland asked, confused.

Jel’kan and Sariel exchanged knowing looks, as though on the verge of chuckling.

“Nevermind about that, how are things going here? Any problems? Anyone having issues?”

Roland folded his arms, his expression taking on a distant, thoughtful gaze.

“Not that I can immediately think of. But if something comes up, I’ll let you know.”

Tib nodded.

“Thanks, that’s all I can ask for.”

He led the crew away. They walked by a raised planter bed housing delicately kept flowers, shrubs and a fruiting tree that wasn’t quite in season yet.

“Thoughts?” Tib asked when they weren’t in earshot of anyone.

“It seems suspicious that we receive a distress call that no one knows about. Either everyone is ignorant or everyone is lying.”

Of course, he could count on Jel’kan to give the blunt adversarial input.

Sariel looked pensive. “Normally, I’m not the first one to jump to negative conclusions, but it feels odd at least. Surely someone would have to know something.”

“Then we keep looking and asking.” Tib said.

They spent a half hour just walking around and chatting up anyone willing to give them the time. Most of the Thaloran’s kept to themselves and cast several glances to the prophet. Tiberius got the impression they were seeking permission or denial. It rubbed Tib wrong but he also didn’t want to assign negative connotations to something he might just be misunderstanding. But he needed more information and he needed to find who sent that message so he could determine how best to help.

As Lt. Jel’kan and the doctor were chatting a few of the less reclusive locals, he noticed a woman peeking at them from behind a corner. She looked like she didnt want to draw attention to herself so he didn’t make a show of noticing her, only holding her gave for a moment with a slight nod of his chin as evidence he’d seen her.

“You guys go ahead. I’m going to have a look around the gardens some more.” When the security escort moved to flank him he held his hand out haltingly.

“That’s okay boys. I’ll be fine. I’m just going right over there. You’ll still be able to see me if you need me for anything.”

Reluctantly everyone nodded and resumed their discussions as he made his way over. When he rounded the corner, he found a distressed woman with nervous eyes. He’d seen the look before. In borg survivors freshly pulled out of the collective.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m Tiberius. Are you the one who sent the distress signal?”

She only nodded to him, as if the mere idea of uttering a word would be damning.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?”

She shook her head no, and gestured to her mouth and ears, and then swept her arms out widely.

“Everyone’s listening in? Okay. What if we returned to my ship then?”

Her face wrinkled with thought. Clearly weighing the risks. Then she finally nodded.

“Alright then, take my hand, and we’ll go now.”

She approached, reaching out a tentative hand. It settled on his own softly. He gave her a reassuring nod.

“Captain Rain to the Rubidoux. Two to beam back up.”

“Aye, sir.”

A moment later, his vision swam with glittering light and vertigo overtook him as his body was broken down at the molecular level and beamed across space back to the ship to be rebuilt in the primary transporter room.

“This is my ship, the USS Rubidoux. You’ll be safe here. Let’s head to sickbay.”

As they moved to leave, he tapped his comm badge. “Rain to Away team. Return to the ship. We’re close to a shift change, anyway.”

“Understood, sir. Away team out.”

With that sorted, he led his guest to sickbay just in case there was a need for medical attention.