Captain Day Renora stood in her ready room aboard the USS Vallejo, the steady hum of the ship at warp a subtle comfort. She crossed to the replicator set into the wall; her boots silent on the carpeted floor. “Raktajino. Hot. Mild spice,” she ordered, her voice clear and calm. The replicator hummed, materializing a steaming red mug of Klingon coffee, its rich aroma warming the air. Day took the mug, her fingers wrapping around it, and settled at her desk. She set the raktajino down, tapped a control on the console, and began recording.

“Captain’s Log, Stardate 79262.9. We are en route to Deep Space 47 at warp 6.2, towing the derelict Vaadwaur scout ship found in orbit above Nerathis IV. No survivors were found from the archaeological team or the Vaadwaur crew. It appears the Vaadwaur attacked the dig site, releasing an alien entity that was contained within the ruins. This entity was some type of ancient weapon. Lieutenant Valis will have a more detailed description in her log and debrief. The entity, identified as the Vyr’eshk, has been resealed within its ancient prison, thanks to Lieutenant Valis’s successful reactivation of the containment glyphs and Lieutenant Jorath’s empathic intervention. Every member of our team made it back… no names to add to the plaque of the lost outside the Back Nine, and for that… I’m grateful.

Lieutenant Bjornsen sustained the most serious physical injuries, Commander Mehta endured some trauma as well, and Jorath pushed his abilities to the limit, but they’ll recover. Both away teams will need counseling at the least, I know I will…

Per Starfleet protocol, we’ve deployed quarantine beacons in orbit, broadcasting Code 710, designating Nerathis IV as a restricted planet. The Vaadwaur vessel will be analyzed by the Corps of Engineers at Deep Space 47.

The crew’s spirit is strong despite the physical and emotional toll, and the memory of our prior losses drives us forward. Once again, I couldn’t be prouder of this crew or their conduct.”

“Computer, end log… Transmit to Command as soon as the Vallejo is clear of the interference field.”

________________________________________

The sickbay of the Vallejo buzzed with the soft pulse of diagnostic monitors, the sterile air carrying a faint antiseptic tang. Captain Day walked in and approached the biobed where Lieutenant Bjornsen rested, his newly fitted ocular implants glinting under the lights, restoring his vision after his injuries at the hands of the Vyr’eshk.

Dr. Pell, ship’s chief medical officer, saw her enter from the clear plaz wall overlooking the sickbay in her office and walked in to greet her.

“Status, Doctor?” Day asked, her voice steady but soft.

“Bjornsen’s ocular implants?” She gave a curt nod, a smirk tugging at her lips. “My best work yet. Perfect calibration, vision’s sharper than ever. Starfleet’s lucky to have me. His psyche’s still shaky, though… Marin says counseling’s gonna be a long road.”

Day turned her attention to Jorath, once again laying in a biobed after a traumatic event…

The Deltan counselor sat propped up, his pale skin regaining its natural sheen, his green eyes clear and focused. Dr. Pell walked over to Jorath’s monitor, tricorder in hand, her expression brisk but with a hint of smug satisfaction.

Pell glanced at the readouts; her tone sharp but not unkind. “Neural activity’s stable. Brain waves look clean… no sign of alien static in the mix. He needs rest, but he’ll be fine for light duty soon. Day nodded, her jaw firm. “Jorath and Valis were the linchpins down there. They gave us the win.”

Pell’s eyes met Day’s, her tone softening slightly. “And you got ‘em back in one piece, Captain. That’s something.”

Jorath shifted, his gaze meeting Day’s. “Captain… It’s quiet now. I can’t sense it anymore.”

Day placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch solid but kind. “You held the line, Lieutenant. You faced that thing and didn’t break. I’m proud of you.”

Jorath’s lips curved slightly, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “I felt them, Captain. The builders of that prison. Their fear, their shame. It was… intense.”

Day’s expression softened; her voice low. “When you’re cleared, I want you in the Captain’s Mess for breakfast. Just you and me. We’ll talk… about this, or anything else you need.”

Jorath blinked, a touch surprised, then nodded. “I’d appreciate that, Captain.”

“Rest now,” Day said, her tone an order warmed by care. “That’s not a request.”

She turned to Pell. “Keep me posted on both of them, Doctor.”

Pell gave a quick nod, already turning back to her tricorder. “Will do, Captain.”

________________________________________

In the holodeck, the air carried the ring of blunted sabers and men grunting. Ensign Jeremy Ryan stood on a fencing piste, his posture alert, his blunted saber clashing with Lieutenant Ilias Amir’s. Ryan’s movements were quick but measured, his usual confidence tempered by the intensity of the bout. Amir, his stance fluid and precise, countered with a sly grin, his hazel eyes glinting with competitive mischief. The program replicated a 21st-century Earth fencing salle, with soft sunlight filtering through virtual windows.

Commander Arjun Mehta stood just off the piste, his posture straight despite a faint stiffness from his recovering injuries, his dark eyes sharp and authoritative. His uniform concealed the bruises and strains from his on Nerathis IV, but he carried himself with the same fatherly gravitas, coaching both men with unwavering focus.

“Ryan, watch the footwork,” Mehta called, his voice calm but firm. “Keep your weight centered. Amir, stop overextending on your lunges… you’re leaving yourself open.”

Amir parried a strike, his grin widening. “Noted, sir. Come on, Jeremy, you took down a possessed Commander Mehta. Don’t tell me you’re winded already.”

Ryan dodged a quick thrust, exhaling a half-grin.

Mehta’s expression remained stoic, but his tone carried a faint warmth. “It was not me in control in that chamber, Lieutenant. Had I been in control, Ensign Ryan would have faced a more formidable opponent. Focus on your form… both of you.”

Ryan nodded, respect flashing in his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Amir chuckled mid-parry, his saber flashing. “You’re a legend for that one, Jeremy. Saved Pell’s hide and lived to tell it. Now try keeping up with me.”

Ryan countered with a controlled arc, his tone lighter but focused. “Keep talking, Ilias. Maybe I’ll break your knee next…”

Mehta stepped closer, his voice cutting through their banter. “Enough chatter. Ryan, your grip’s too tight… loosen it. Amir, watch your left flank. Again.”

The weight of Nerathis IV lingered quietly. Mehta’s possession by the Vyr’eshk had shaken Ryan… those soulless black eyes, that unnatural snarl still surfaced in his quieter moments. This session, under Mehta’s disciplined guidance, was about rebuilding trust and camaraderie through structure. Ryan’s quick action had saved Dr. Pell, and Mehta’s coaching was his way of steadying both officers, blade by blade.

Ryan lunged; his saber meeting Amir’s with a clean ring. Mehta nodded slightly. “Better, Ensign. Amir, your parry’s late. Anticipate, don’t react.”

Amir stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow. “You don’t miss a thing, do you, sir?”

“Observation is a skill,” Mehta replied, a faint warmth in his eyes. “One you’ll both master.”

Ryan snorted lightly, resetting his stance. “Gotta keep up with you, Ilias, or you’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Amir grinned, raising his saber. “Damn right. Let’s go, hotshot.”

Mehta’s lips twitched, the barest hint of approval, as he watched their sabers clash again, their sparring a quiet rhythm of restoration under his steady gaze.

________________________________________

In main engineering, the warp core’s steady pulse filled the air, a constant heartbeat as the Vallejo towed the Vaadwaur vessel. Lieutenant Valis stood at a workstation, her Vulcan precision guiding her fingers across a console monitoring the warp field’s stability. Beside her, Lieutenant Vex, her emerald hair tucked behind her ears, adjusted a diagnostic tool, her eyes scanning readouts of the ship’s systems. They were running routine diagnostics, ensuring the tow and the Vallejo’s systems remained stable after the strain of Nerathis IV.

Valis’s posture was impeccable, but her gaze lingered on the warp field metrics, a subtle sign of introspection. “The warp field is holding at optimal parameters,” she said, her voice calm but quieter than usual. “The tractor emitters are exerting minimal stress on our engines.”

Vex nodded, her fingers tapping a console to cross-check power distribution. “Yeah, she’s running smooth as Tholian silk. But you’re quieter than usual… and that’s saying something.”

Valis’s brow arched, but she kept her eyes on the readouts. “The entity’s containment required me to interface with its prison. The experience… exposed me to intense emotions… fear, resolve, despair. It was as though a previously sealed compartment within my emotional control framework had been forcibly accessed. I suppressed it, but it has… altered me.”

Vex set down her tool, her usual grin softening to concern. “Altered? You’re still the same Valis who can outthink a quantum computer, right?”

Valis met Vex’s gaze, her expression easing slightly. “I am Vulcan. My discipline remains. But the intensity of those emotions was unprecedented. Suppressing them was… challenging. I am now more attuned to emotional nuances, even within myself. It is… disquieting.”

Vex leaned against the console, her voice warm but straightforward. “That’s a lot to process, Valis. You slammed that emotional door shut, but it sounds like it left a crack. You don’t have to sort it out alone. Even Vulcans need to decompress sometimes.”

Valis tilted her head, considering. “Your metaphor is imprecise, but… appreciated. This heightened awareness is… uncomfortable. I am still assessing its impact.”

Vex’s grin returned, gentle but encouraging. “Take your time. You’re tougher than a duranium hull. If you want to talk… off-duty, maybe over that bitter Vulcan tea… I’m here. No pressure.”

Valis’s lips twitched, a faint trace of a smile. “Your offer is noted, Lieutenant. I may consider it. For now, we must ensure the warp field and tractor beam remain stable.”

Vex dove back into the console, her energy undimmed. “Aye, aye. Let’s keep this ship humming and that Vaadwaur wreck in tow.”

Valis resumed her work, her movements precise but thoughtful. The warp core thrummed steadily behind them; the Vallejo’s heart strong as ever.

________________________________________

In orbit around Nerathis IV, the quarantine beacons pulsed steadily, their Code 710 warning broadcasting into the void. The planet hung below, its lavender skies deceptively calm, the McAllister Nebula casting an eerie glow. The Vyr’eshk was sealed, its prison restored by the courage of Day, Valis, and Jorath. Nerathis IV remained a silent sentinel, its secrets buried deep.