The sensation of weightlessness faded slowly as Alfie’s awareness returned. His first instinct was panic. Where was he? What was going on? Everything around him was not normal. It felt almost alien-like. Cold. Bright. Silent. He sat up with a jolt, only to feel a pair of hands gently pressing down on his shoulders.

“Easy, Alf”, came a familiar voice. “It’s just me.”

Alfie blinked against the almost blinding white around him. His vision finally settled on Scott, standing beside his bed. Scott’s expression was calm, gentle, and even. Like Alfie, he wore a white sleeveless vest and matching shorts with a silvery metal buckle around the waistband. Neither wore shoes. The uniformity of the sterile environment, smooth, white walls, pristine beds, and no visible seams or technology, made the room feel less like a prison and more like a strange, too-clean research facility.

Alfie instinctively pushed Scott away, panic still clutching at his chest. “Get off me, Scott!”

Scott stumbled back slightly, hands raised. “It’s okay! I wasn’t trying to hurt you! I promise!”

Taking a moment to process, Alfie sat up straighter and looked around the room. The space was eerily symmetrical. Four sleek beds. A single seamless door on one end. The lighting had no clear source but cast an even glow throughout the room. The only other defining feature was the translucent forcefield that split the room into two halves. The bright gleam it gave off, showing it was there, was almost as bright as the other lighting in the room. 

On the other side of the field, Alfie could see Jordan and Beatrice still unconscious. They, too, wore the same white clothing, plain vests, shorts with buckles, and bare feet. Alfie swung his legs over the side of the bed as he got up. 

Scott now moved to stand against the nearby wall, his arms resting across his chest as he crossed them. The clean lines of his strong biceps and toned quadriceps were obvious in the minimal outfit, but what caught Alfie’s eye more was the way Scott was looking at him: soft, apologetic. He offered a small, tentative smile, the dimples in his cheeks trying to ease the tension.

“I’m sorry again, Alf,” Scott said gently. “For everything. I never meant to hurt you. Or Jordan.”

Alfie stared at him for a long moment. The weight of recent revelations still clung to him like a second skin. He looked down, rubbed the back of his neck, and finally nodded. He hated being mad at Jordan and him. He was his best friend, and he had never thought that Scott had feelings for Jordan like that. Nevertheless, at the back of his mind, he could hear his father’s voice telling him to find peace for now. “It looks like we’re stuck in here together. Let’s call a truce.”

Scott exhaled, relieved. “I can work with that. Thanks, Alf.”

Across the forcefield, there was a low groan as Beatrice rolled onto her side. “Ugh,  what hit me?” She blinked several times as she wiped her face and sat up. 

Jordan stirred beside her, blinking into the intense brightness. “What? Where are we?” He mumbled as he sat up quickly, alarmed when he saw Alfie and Scott on the opposite side. “Alfie!” he called, but no sound carried across.

Back on the other side, Alfie and Scott watched as the other two woke up. The moment they couldn’t hear Jordan speak, Alfie looked at Scott immediately. 

“Forcefield,” Scott said, motioning to the invisible barrier. “I tried walking over there when I woke up. Walked right into it. I think it’s also dampening the sound.”

“They can’t hear us,” Alfie muttered, frowning.

Jordan stood up and waved, trying to speak again. Nothing.

On the other side, Beatrice pushed herself upright, glancing around. “Well, this is very clinical.”

“Prison meets hospital,” Jordan agreed. “Why are we dressed like this?”

Beatrice tugged at the edge of her vest. “White vests, shorts with metal buckles, and no shoes? Definitely not standard-issue Starfleet attire. It’s very prison chic.”

“Where even are we?” Jordan added, walking up to the forcefield, trying to work out where it started and ended. “Are we on a ship? A station?”

“Could be either of those,” Beatrice said, moving beside him. “But if this is someone’s idea of a welcome suite, they’ve failed. This place looks like a quarantine ward.”

Jordan sighed and pressed his palm to the field. “I hate this. I can’t hear them. I don’t know what they’re saying.”

“Relax, we’ll figure it out.” Beatrice watched Alfie and Scott talk, then arched a brow. “Scott looks like he’s trying really hard not to cry.”

“Probably feels guilty,” Jordan said under his breath. He felt the same pain in his chest as he looked at Alfie. 

Beatrice turned to him. “Jordan, you’re terrible at romance. You know that, right?”

He blinked as he looked at her. “Excuse me?”

She held up her fingers. “First me. Then Alfie. Then Scott. You’re like a walking love generator.”

He frowned, not appreciating her remarks. “Wow, thanks.”

“I’m just saying, what’s your plan? Date Jib next? Or maybe Jameel?”

Jordan groaned, rubbing his face. “Beatrice…”

She chuckled. “Hey, either of them is a catch! I’m kidding. Mostly. But seriously, whatever this is, we need to work together. Let’s figure out what we’re dealing with.”

They turned to inspect the only exit: a seamless door covered by a translucent energy field. Above it, a narrow silver strip caught the light.

“That might be the emitter,” Beatrice said, pointing. “Forcefield’s probably coming from there.”

Meanwhile, on the other side, Alfie was doing his own inspection. “No visible panels, no seams. Light doesn’t even throw proper shadows.”

“Feels more like a simulation,” Scott murmured.

Alfie looked toward the forcefield again. “I wonder if there’s a way to disrupt it.”

He crossed his arms and thought hard, then looked at Scott’s belt. “Wait—that metal buckle. When you got up before, it glinted. Try brushing it near the field.”

Scott looked hesitant but did as asked. He took the buckle off the belt, holding his shorts up and pressed it against the field. As the buckle brushed the energy, a faint flicker pulsed through the air.

“Interesting,” Alfie murmured. “Try it again, a little harder.”

Scott did, and it caused the forcefield to flicker brighter.

Across the divide, Beatrice accidentally brushed her buckle against the forcefield too, and a bright spark leapt out.

“Ow!” she yelped.

Jordan ran over. “What happened?”

Beatrice held up the buckle. “It reacted. It sparked.”

“Look, Scott is doing it also. Do what he’s doing. Take it off and try it again.”

She did—another spark. The lights above flickered.

On the other side, Scott noticed. “Did you see that?”

Alfie nodded. “It’s reacting to the metal.”

Scott unhooked his belt buckle. “Maybe we can overload it.”

Soon, all four of them began gently tapping or scraping their broken-off buckles against the barrier in a rhythm. First Beatrice, then Jordan. Then Scott and Alfie joined in. The energy pulse grew stronger with each pass.

Suddenly, Jordan winced. He clutched his head as he fell to his knees, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of pressure and emotion.

“Jordan?” Beatrice asked, alarmed. She went over to him to help him back up on his feet.

He slammed his palm-buckle-first into the field.

A brilliant flash.

A deep humming crackle.

And the forcefield vanished.

The four of them stood in stunned silence, now able to hear each other clearly. Jordan was gasping, but whatever had hit him had stopped as he rose to his feet with Beatrice’s help.

Beatrice looked around. “That did it. Whatever it was.”

Before anyone could speak further, the shimmering energy over the door flickered, then dissolved with a low pulse.

The door creaked slightly, then slid open with a quiet hiss.

USS Astra (NCC-96894), Unknown Moon, Nacene Reach, Delta Quadrant

“You said it was urgent?” Niro asked as he strode into sickbay, Penelope materialising beside him with a soft shimmer of photons.

Stellan looked up from the central medical console, where the four unconscious cadets lay on separate biobeds. The EMH moved between them, running a fresh series of scans.

“It is,” Stellan replied, gesturing for Niro and Penelope to join him.

The console displayed four neurological scans, each labelled with the cadets’ names. Real-time data pulsed across the screen, revealing waveforms in constant, synchronised motion.

“What is it, Kit?” Niro asked, eyes narrowing. He was a pilot by trade, so understanding neurological scans was not one of his skills. 

“You remember we detected a neurogenic field earlier?” Stellan began. Niro nodded. “Well, I’ve just completed a deeper analysis, and the results are troubling.”

Penelope leaned forward, examining the scans. Her holographic database was kicking in. Though she did not possess the same extensive knowledge as an EMH, she had some of the basics to help her operate. “These brain wave patterns, they’re identical.”

Stellan nodded grimly. “Exactly. And they shouldn’t be.”

Niro turned toward him, his voice low. “What does that mean, Lieutenant?”

“It means,” Stellan said carefully, “that the neurogenic field hasn’t just affected them. It’s linked them. All four of them are experiencing the same thing. Whatever’s happening in their minds, well, they’re in it together.”