Carrillion ran the medical tricorder over the captain one last time, the soft hum of its scan breaking the stillness of the room. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she studied the stream of readings: biochemical markers, neural activity, telepathic resonance. All of them were perfectly normal. Nothing stood out.

Trying to keep her trademark optimistic bedside manner, the Tyran doctor straightened and gave the captain a reassuring smile.

“Sorry, sir. I can’t detect anything out of the ordinary.”

“Nothing at all, Carrillion?” Nelson asked from the foot of the biobed, her arms loosely crossed, expression thoughtful but edged with concern.

Carrillion glanced at her and shook her head. “I’m afraid not, honey.”

Corbin exhaled heavily, the sound halfway between frustration and disbelief. “Then how did I know the same phrases that appeared in the logs from my dream?”

Carrillion’s ridged brow lifted slightly in sympathy. “Unfortunately, sir, I can’t give you a medical reason for that.”

Nelson took a step closer, her voice even but laced with quiet conviction. “Rome, you’ve demonstrated strong Betazoid sensitivity before. Maybe there’s something our instruments haven’t been calibrated to detect. Something you’re subconsciously picking up on a telepathic or empathic level.”

“Maybe,” Corbin murmured, though his tone was weary. “Perhaps I should ask Starok if he’s sensed anything.”

“I think Starok would have said something by now,” Carrillion offered gently. “He’s normally good at coming to see me and then advising me to tell you we should go to red alert.”

Nelson chuckled at that as she nodded. Back on the Columbia, the young Vulcan pilot had believed he had made contact with Species 8472 after a nightmare of his own; however, it turned out to be him beginning his Pon Farr cycle. “True, but it can’t hurt to ask him directly.”

Corbin inclined his head in agreement. “Thank you, Carrillion.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, absently rubbing the back of his neck as if to ground himself.

“I can give you a cortical monitor,” Carrillion said, reaching for the small device as she turned off her medical tricorder. “If something’s trying to reach you telepathically while you’re asleep, it might register an anomaly.”

Corbin accepted the monitor into his palm. “Good idea, thank you.”

Carrillion passed it to him. “I’ll keep an open link with it with sickbay, just in case. I’ll have the computer monitor the readings and alert us if something appears out of the norm.”

He gave her a grateful nod. “I appreciate it.”

As Corbin and Nelson left together, the sickbay doors slid shut behind them with a soft hiss, leaving Carrillion alone with her unanswered scans and a lingering sense that something unseen was still at work.

As they entered the corridor’s privacy and with no one else around, Corbin turned to Nelson. “You think I’m going mad?”

Nelson chuckled. “You and I both went mad years ago when we joined Starfleet.”

He laughed back at that, appreciating Nelson’s sense of humour when it was just the two of them. “Seriously though, how could I have dreamt and remembered all of that and it appear on the Ivalan ship?”

“Maybe the Ivalans have some sort of residual telepathic ability we’re not aware of yet, and somehow you picked that up,” Nelson offered with a shrug. “As I said earlier, you’ve shown before how strong your telepathic abilities can be.”

“You’re right, Liz,” Corbin sighed as they approached the end of the corridor and tapped for the turbolift to arrive.

He wiped his face with both hands as they waited.

“I’m always right,” she remarked with her playful grin as the lift doors opened once the cart arrived. “You should know that by now.”

“Indeed, Number One, indeed,” Corbin agreed as he followed her in and ordered the lift to take them to the bridge to get the rest of their day underway.

“Captain’s log stardate seven-nine-eight-three-six point eight. After two days, the Atlas is on final approach to the Ivalis system. We have yet to detect any other ships in the vicinity, and I have had no further nightmares related to the same phrases that we found being used by the deceased crew of the I’Shathren. No one else on the crew has had any other similar experience. I just hope we are able to find some answers once we meet with the Ivalans.”

“Now entering the Ivalis system,” Starok announced from the helm. His tone, as ever, was calm and deliberate, but the subtle hum beneath his words betrayed the quiet anticipation filling the bridge.

“Drop us to impulse,” Nelson ordered smoothly from her chair beside Corbin’s. She tapped her combadge, “Captain Corbin to the bridge.”

The familiar starscape stretched and slowed across the main viewscreen until it coalesced into the serene, twin-orbiting worlds of Ivalis Prime and Ivalis II. The system shimmered with tranquil blues and silvers, its two inhabited planets reflecting the soft light of their yellow sun. Beyond them hung the faint glow of the Ivalan orbital platforms, like beads of light strung along invisible threads.

“Tractor beam is still stable on the I’Shathren,” announced Alkos from ops.

Corbin stepped out from his ready room, crossing the bridge with a quiet determination. Settling into his chair, he leaned forward slightly. “Magnify on Ivalis Prime.”

Nelson glanced sideways at him. Corbin caught her look and offered a faint smile. It was a silent assurance that he was fine, though the shadows of his recent nightmares still lingered behind his eyes. They hadn’t been able to explain the similarities between his dream and the logs from the I’Shathren. He hated not having the answers at his fingertips.

The image on the main viewer shifted to reveal the elegant curve of Ivalis Prime, veiled in soft cloud layers. Even from orbit, the surface glimmered faintly with signs of civilisation. Luminous cities built along vast coastlines, surrounded by glacial seas that caught the sunlight like liquid glass. It was beautiful. Peaceful. Nothing about it suggested the terror seen from the I’Shathren’s log.

“Captain,” said Rowlan from tactical, “many of the ships in the system appear to be civilian in nature. However, several larger vessels match the configuration of the I’Shathren. Technologically speaking, they are just as advanced as we are, but none of the ships seem to have warp cores that could power them beyond warp two. ”

Velesa added from science, “I’m also detecting multiple satellite arrays. Most are for observation, but a few are armed, likely defensive.”

“I’m not surprised,” Nelson observed after a quick glance at her own console that showed the latest sensor readings. “There’s a lot of traffic moving around those orbital paths. The Ivalan Union is certainly a busy one with millions of people getting on with their daily chores.”

“The Ivalans are hailing us,” Alkos reported crisply from the operations console.

“Put them through,” Corbin ordered.

The viewscreen flickered, then shifted to reveal an Ivalan woman standing within a bright, crystalline chamber. Her features were pale and angular, her eyes luminous gold. The high, folded crest at the crown of her head shimmered faintly beneath the ambient light. She wore the same pristine white and gold uniform as the holographic avatar, I’Ruthi.

“Welcome to the Ivalis system,” she said, her voice smooth, resonant, and distinctly formal. “I am Prime Curator I’Tareen of the Ivalan Union.”

Corbin gave a warm, friendly smile. As he stood up and walked slightly forward towards the viewscreen, he tugged on the ends of his jacket and greeted her back. “I’m Captain Romen Cobrin of the U-S-S Atlas, representing the United Federation of Planets. We come in peace and we return to you, one of your vessels, the I’Shathren. We found her adrift after answering her distress call.”

At that, Tareen’s expression flickered. It was not quite a surprise, but something close. “The I’Shathren… we had feared the worst. You have our sincerest gratitude, Captain. We had lost contact with it days ago and had not heard from Captain I’Virella. We feared the worst.”

“We were glad to help, Prime Curator,” Corbin replied gently. “However, I regret to inform you that we found no survivors. The crew were all deceased, Captain I’Virella included.”

“Dead? All of them?” She echoed, the surprise and fear came across in her eyes. “Do you know what caused them to die?”

Corbin sensed that there was more to what I’Tareen was thinking and feeling. He hated being the bearer of bad news, especially during formal opening remarks with a new race that he was expected to make formal relationships with on behalf of the Federation. This was not going to be easy and could go either way for them. “Unfortunately, we do not know fully what happened. The only thing we do know is that the crew harmed themselves in removing their eyes. Before this, though, many of the crew appear to have damaged the vessel. We’ve been able to repair most of it, thanks to the onboard computer holographic primary command avatar. With I’Ruthi’s assistance, we were able to access a few of the crew’s logs, but the why part of our investigation remains unanswered. I hope our intervention did not violate any cultural or spiritual customs regarding your deceased loved ones. We are truly sorry for your loss.”

I’Tareen’s gaze lowered, her hands clasping before her chest. “As am I, Captain. As am I. The crew of the I’Shathren represented the best of our people. Captain I’Virella was my daughter-in-law.” She bowed her head for a long, silent moment. The personal loss now made sense. “Still, I hope this tragedy does not prevent us from opening relations with your Federation. You have shown us compassion, not judgment. I know I’Virella wouldn’t want it to affect us meeting you.”

“This tragedy changes nothing,” Corbin assured her, his tone soft but firm. “It reveals only that your people suffered, and we can honour those lost by building a future together. We see no foolishness in that, only the need to understand what happened to your fallen comrades to prevent it from happening again.”

I’Tareen exhaled slowly, visibly relieved. “Then let us begin as friends. We will dispatch ships to escort you deeper into the system and to assume custody of the I’Shathren to continue with the investigation. Once you are safely in orbit, I invite you and your officers to join us for our evening meal. I’ve always found that the best beginnings are shared over good food and good wine. We can raise a toast to our beloved lost souls.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Corbin said with a smile, inclining his head. “We’d be honoured to be your guests and to join you in remembering those lost on the I’Shathren.”

I’Tareen mirrored his gesture before the transmission faded, leaving the bridge silent for a moment.

Once she was gone, Corbin turned back to his chair.

“Well handled, sir,” Merrendis said to him from her chair to his left. “A strong start to what could be a delicate relationship.”

“Thank you, Counsellor,” Corbin said, settling back into his chair. His gaze lingered on the stars where the Ivalan ships would soon appear. “Let’s hope the rest of our visit is as civilised as it begins.”