“For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God…”

1 Thessalonians 4:15–17

Night never set upon the Lightning Spire.

Incongruous maybe, that upon a world where the face of the ocean depths had been granted reprieve from the coruscating sear and flash of perpetual lightning storms by the alchemy of advanced technology, that at its antipodes – that same technical wizardry transformed night into day so consistently that even the white glare of its eternally frozen poles were transformed into a blinding desolation of light that rendered all in a flash-bulb staccato nightmare of bleakness and power.

Encedis-#5 had been colonized in the mid – 2200’s and key to that dominion had been the terraforming required to tame the incessant ionic radiation emanating from the system’s man – sequence star. Fierce ion storms continually lashed the ocean – planet’s surface, transforming the endless tundra of seawater into a highly – acidic medium wholly unsuitable for sustaining the types of biological life that would be palatable for organics such as humans.

Thus, Genodyne Industries had threaded the heavens with the glittering orbital diadem that was the Planetary Weather Control system. An ingenious and intricate network of vast orbital mirrors, massively powerful ionic capacitors and phasic interchangers that attracted the ionic radiation that bombarded the heavens, working its conjurer’s trick in reverse as it ensnared those tightly – bound electrons and slaved them back to component atoms.

But all of this phenomenal burden of potential energy had to go somewhere, else the heavens become a giant man – made, highly unstable nuclear chain-reaction. So, man, in his infinite invention (and not without a little hubris thrown in for good measure), devised to transmit those subatomic Alpha & Beta particles it captured and transmit them down towards the poles of the planet, there to be captured by what were intrinsically a pair of opposing lightning conductors, engineered on a terrifying gargantuan scale.

There, akin in some ways to a contemporary conductive band of copper nailed to a church spire, the breathtakingly complex Lightning Spires would provide a safe path for the mammoth energetic discharge from the Ion – storms to ‘ground’. These complex “Air – Terminals” channeling the fury of the storms down to serried banks of grounding – electrodes buried kilometers deep beneath the ice that formed some of the only ‘solid’ ground of this ocean-world and there into frighteningly capacious storage batteries and a vast planet – wide distribution system to share this purloined power with the various rigs and infrastructure that enabled the sophisticated aquaculture operation.

Lightning in a bottle.

Lieutenant – Commander Bob Aldrige looked up at the immense structure that towered so high above him, that its very tip was lost to view in the angry scrummage of dark – bruised clouds that roiled and jostled in the turbulent airflow of the slipstream, punctuating the sky with almost constant flares of incandescent purplish – lightning that lit up the frozen crests of snow like a maniac stroboscope.

A consummate Engineer, Aldridge had relished the chance to task his Starfleet Engineering teams with assisting the Genodyne Industries technicians in the repair of this fantastic miracle of industry (damaged by the petulant departure of Vaaduwar Supremacy forces from this sector in the wake of their defeat), the Lightning Spire was truly a technical marvel.

As he adjusted his protective goggles from the jittering – glare as yet another leviathan stab of lightning connected with the towering spire, that same keen – engineers mind now contemplated the Spire’s imminent destruction and was more than (rightly) concerned about the energetic – potential that such a sudden energy – releasing reaction would represent.

In Bob’s estimation – the resultant release would be akin to the scale of a small to medium antimatter containment loss of a Class 3 Warp core. The corresponding Exothermic reaction would more than likely reduce this southern ice cap from a solid frozen state to a superhot gaseous state in a matter of nanoseconds and send a shockwave that would likely trigger a tsunami of continental – scale.

Not something any sane person would want to experience from ‘ground zero’.

But, as the shuttles from the USS Astute swept in from the tumultuous heavens in a desperate dance to pluck his people and those from the civilian work – teams away to relative safety, Bod Aldrige railed against the thoughtless and willful destruction of this triumph of innovation that he and his crews had been laboring day and night to return to working function.

It all seemed such a waste.

Irritably brushing snow from his prodigious grey moustache, the stout little Mainer frowned massively as he checked the progress of the evacuation from his Padd and protested his case to the CO, via the comm – channel.

“For cryin’ out loud, Cap’n! We can’t just sit here and let this thing wreck the spire!” The doughty New – England native bristled as another shuttle lifted off in the driving snow, passing over Bob’s head as it made for orbit, just as another craft swooped in to take on more people and what equipment they were not being forced to abandon in the rush to clear the site.

Speaking directly to the Chief Engineer from half a planet away, where she held conference with the mysterious beings of energy and light upon the shattered remains of Rig D-31, Captain Monique McDowell’s voice cut through the din and confusion of the evacuation.

“Not up for discussion Chief. The Astute confirms that the entity known as “The Watcher” is closing on your position.” The Captain warned. “I’m in direct contact with the beings that this entity is…was part of and they assure me that “The Watcher” is beyond reason and intent on the destruction of the spire. You have to get your people out and you have to do it now!”

Aldridge was a more-than-seasoned Starfleet officer and had been around long enough to experience any number of strange and outlandish phenomena in the Galaxy, so he didn’t doubt the CO at her word, if a bunch of ‘ghosts’ had told the Captain that they had to get, get – gone they would.

Surely there was another way?

“But if we let this place go to ruin, the weather network’s gonna crash and there’ll be a whole lotta folks goin’ hungry!” The Lieutenant – Commander retorted.

The inevitable ocean – acidification that would inevitably progress with the full return of the Ion Storms to unchecked dominance above the planet – effectively killing off the genetically – engineered Krill that Genodyne used as the protein – base for the products that they manufactured to feed all of the hungry mouths of the myriad inhabitants of the Encedis system.

“I’m well aware Commander and when we have the time, I’ll explain my reasoning to you – there’s far wider implications at stake here.” McDowell countered.

~ What could take precedent over the starving of millions? ~ Bob wondered but pushed that thought aside.

“If I just had a little more time, Captain.” Alridge pleaded miserably, “I’m sure I could come up with some way to defeat this creature or at the very least contain it somehow?” Unable to bear the thought of such wanton and cataclysmic destruction, the resourceful engineer knew that this entreaty was probably unrealistic, but his creative ingenuity struggled in vain to find ways to save this vital creation.

When McDowell spoke, her own inner conflict was evident in the strain of her voice.

“Chief, I know this is hard to take and, lord knows, I may struggle with the outcome and aftermath of this decision for the rest of my life.” Monique assured the engineer. “But “The Watcher” has consumed our own power gathered from the Rigs it has destroyed on its way south and when it reaches your position – even the Astute would be hard pressed to counter it – it would likely absorb the energy from our attacks and become even more unstable and dangerous.”

Lieutenant – Commander Robert Aldridge looked up at the uncaring heavens and despaired.

“Evacuate and evacuate now Commander.” McDowell sent with final authority. “That is a direct order.”

His head dropped in defeat and Bob nodded. Life was more important than technology at the end of the day. Whilst this wonderous piece of technology was a key component in an apparatus that millions of souls depended upon for their continued survival, Bob was loyal and disciplined enough to trust in the chain of command and accept that his Captain knew what she was doing.

“Aye Captain.” Aldridge sighed dejectedly as he began to make his way toward the penultimate shuttlecraft. “Evacuating now. Aldrige out.”

As he struggled through the snow towards the open rear – ramp of the shuttle, he barked out at one of his engineers who was struggling to load a crate aboard.

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud, Mulroney! Leave them phase-inverters behind, will ya? We can whip up another crate of those easy enough, but we can’t replicate another you! I reckon even your own poor – Ma ain’t lookin’ to go through that bloody circus again!”

Location: 137nmi from the Southern – pole, Encedis-#5

Stardate: 2402.6.23 / 08:18 hrs.

Like a bolt of bright vengeance, The Watcher streaked across the face of the waters, its fury following it its wake.

Gone was all semblance of the being it once had been. The long centuries of isolation had worn away at its stoic – resolve, the aggregate loss and disappearance of The People from the planet, long years watching helpless as the outsiders had torn and tamed its world – heedless to the impact, the cost of their transgressions. All of this had worn away at its psyche like a small grain of sand and in the cavity that this attrition had left, resentment had formed and festered.

It had gorged itself on the strange and intoxicating energy that powered the outsiders’ strange structures, that bright, ephemeral mélange of exotic and confusing energy contrasting with the natural connection its own people felt to the Ionic radiation that succored their world.

This alien sensation of power both corrupted its purpose and obsecrated its reason – it was drawn to consume more and more of this alien power, whilst simultaneously it fed its every growing sense of rage and revulsion, and it thought of nothing more than destroying the source of this power at its fount.

For The Watcher, the intersection of this culmination was clarion and evident as a beacon, so it was drawn towards the south – where it could feel this abomination corrupting the sacred essence of the heavens.

As the last shuttle, with Lieutenant Commander Alridge lifted away from the frozen southern tundra and climbed the ebullient heavens to return to the USS Astute, a bright pinprick formed on the distant horizon.

To a casual observer this could easily have been mistaken for an errant morning – star, lingering late in the early morning as night retreated and daytime advanced, but the pinprick became a wavering sprite, this shifting to a flickering mote of light, growing in certain magnitude as it approached.

Slowly the underside of the looming clouds began to take on a wan aspect of the light, their dun and grey undulations backlit by the steadily glowing glare as The Watcher sped across the white – capped waves towards the southern – pole, its progress mirrored in a bright flare across the iron – grey sea that was whipped up by the supersonic cone of displaced air in its wake.

Onward it lanced. The Watcher was alive with euphoric destruction, all of its purpose and being focused into a spear-point of rage and vengeance, its course and attention squarely fixed upon the vast, unholy spire that reached into the protesting skies and pillaged the lightning from the heavens.

It would be free. Its people’s bonds would be shattered. The world would be restored.

The Watcher made landfall in a fraction faster than the eye could register and with a titanic impact its bright being cannoned destructively into the slender superstructure of the Lightning Spire.

The resultant detonation of blinding light and stupendous release of energy buffeted Bob Aldridge’s fleeing shuttle some thousands of meters above and turned the early morning into bright daylight as the light and energy of The Watcher merged with that of the stored power gathered by the Spire and the withering power of the storm above.

In less than an instant, The Watcher and everything within 12 kilometers of where the Lightning Spire had stood moments before, was vaporized. The frozen pole itself ceased to materially exist, and The Watcher’s anguish was forever extinguished, its vengeance complete.

Location: Remains of Rig D31, Encedis-#5

Stardate: 2402.6.23 / 08:20 hrs.

The sound of The Watcher’s demise reached the ears of Captain Monique McDowell a full two minutes after the entire southern hemisphere had been starkly illuminated by the blinding detonation of the Lightning spire.

Monique still had bright after-images confusing the back of her retina in gradually-blurring bright phantom blobs as the underside of the endless storm clouds gradually lost the ink – black distinction that the destruction had carved upon their undersides as the light of annihilation slowly faded.

As if in rapturous exultation, the attendant storms that raged above seemed to take on renewed vigor and lightning scoured the sky in a heightened fury that McDowell would not have though possible, given that what had gone before was so immensely compelling.

All above her, as they hung still like some silent senate in the sky, the bright bodies of The People flared in unison with the destruction of the Lightning Spire and the beings seemed to swell and pulse with the return of the full force of ionic radiation as their flimsy, gauzed wings of energy spread wide about them.

Monique removed the specially prepared VISOR that her crew had prepared for her to be able to view these indistinct beings within the ‘real’ world and realized that the creatures were now quite distinct and observable without the device. Their interphasic energy now modulating and merging with the observable wavelengths that the human eye could perceive.

McDowell turned her face from the heavens and horizon, hoping against all reason that she had made the right decision and that her judgement was a just one.

Before her, hanging as always, a few feet above the deck, the being that had identified itself as The Speaker was similarly transformed by the return of the storm. Its body flared with iridescent light and Monique was able to better perceive with her naked eye that there was subtle and shifting whorls of color and motes of dancing light contained within its corporeal form.

The Speaker turned its featureless head from the horizon and regarded the frail – seeming human thoughtfully.

“THE WATCHER IS NO MORE.” Its voice came like the hiss of static and carried a sense of impossible sadness as it spoke.

The wind whipping at her tight – permed curls, Captain Monique McDowell squinted against the light of the Alien’s regard and refused to drop her gaze.

“What’s done is done. I’m sorry for your loss.”

The creature looked again to the steadily fading glow from the south and cocked its head – a strangely human gesture from a being so utter distinct from biological life.

“YOU DID NOT TRY TO STOP THIS. WHY?”

Monique wished that she had had more time to consider her course of action, the imminent arrival of The Watcher at the Lightning Spire having left her scant chance to second guess, but after what she had witnessed via the visions of the past that The Speaker had shared with her, as an officer of Starfleet she was bound by the tenets of the Prime Directive to allow the course of action that had just transpired.

Section 2 of Starfleet General Order 1 (“The Prime Directive”) required that if a species had achieved the commensurate level of societal development and had already been exposed to the existence of a spacefaring civilization (as The People had inevitably had for the last 200 years, even if the colonists were unaware of their presence), then if Starfleet personnel were engaged with diplomatic relations with those people (and what else was this here now, if not just that ?) they were required to stay within the confines of the “contacted” cultures restrictions and not interfere with the social development of that planet.

Humanity had done enough damage to The People, and it was time to let nature resume its course.

“It’s complicated.” Monique shrugged against the rising wind. “But this was your planet first and a very wise person once said, “Logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few”.

“YOUR PEOPLE WILL STARVE?”

Monique nodded as The Speaker challenged this idiom, and she smiled a tired smile.

“That’s a distinct possibility, but I cannot justify letting one people die just so another can live, it’s just not our way.” Captain McDowell asserted, her gaze sure.

“The same wise person that said that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, also said that sometimes the needs of the one can outweigh the needs of the many.”

“YOUR PEOPLE ARE STRANGE.”

Whether it was the culmination of what had transpired over the last few days, sheer exhaustion or the refreshing candor of the statement, Monique found herself laughing despite herself.

“Yeah, well you’ve got that right I guess!” McDowell smiled and nodded to the assembled host of The People, high above.”

“But in many ways, my people are just like you. We live, we care for those we love, we seek to survive and to do so in harmony with each other.” Monique observed. “That cooperation is how we move past misunderstandings and seek to redress injustices that are done to us or by us. It’s how we grow together.”

“I believe that this world can accommodate both our people and your own. I believe we can learn from our differences and combine our uniqueness to ensure that this planet is a place where everyone can grow. The Lightning Spire in the South is destroyed, and your people’s connection is restored. The Spire in the North is still active. A world of calm and storm. We have the opportunity to share this planet, to work together towards a better future for all, if you’d just be willing to talk to the colonists.”

Captain McDowell gestured to the heavens.

“Starfleet, we exist to help people find such accommodation between each other. We have people that can help you both find common purpose. We have scientists that can assist in finding ways that the power that sustains you can continue to sustain you and maybe event convert the technology of the colonists to run on the same source of energy as you do. I promise you that, if there is a way forward for everyone to thrive, then we will help you find it.”

Monique indicated the turbulent seas that crashed against the twisted legs of the shattered platform, so many meters below them.

“In your vision, I came to understand that you are custodians to this world and shepherds to the creatures of the deep. You have an opportunity to teach the colonists more about the balance of this world and maybe even help them find a way to ensure that their own creations can survive in the changing oceans? People may not have to go hungry after all and saving a people from extinction is something I know you understand and it’s a great way to start a new friendship.”

For the longest time The Speaker stared impassively at her and Monique was terrified that her pitch had fallen on deaf – ears, or that the alien had no comparable concept of compassion (or felt that the Genodyne colonists deserved none) and she really had just consigned millions of people to slow starvation.

Then it nodded once.

“WE WILL SPEAK.”

Captain Monique McDowell tipped her fine, dark features to the flashing heavens and closed her eyes as she let the imploring rain run its meandering course down her smiling face.

“That’s an excellent place to start.”