“To the heroes who didn’t return home,” Prime Curator I’Tareen declared, raising her crystal flute. The notion of remembrance for the crew of the I’Shathren had become a recurring one. The Ivalan leader rose gracefully from her chair at the centre of the long banquet table, her gesture sweeping toward the Atlas delegation. Corbin and his party were sitting opposite her. “And to welcoming new friends to our world.”

The Ivalan delegation echoed her words in unison, prompting Corbin and his officers to follow suit. Seated in his dress uniform, Corbin had Nelson to his right, Merrendis to his left, and Rowal beside her. He’d left Alkos in command of the Atlas during their visit. The warm glow of amber crystal chandeliers shimmered against the polished tableware, adding a soft reverence to the moment.

“Thank you, Madam Prime Curator. On behalf of the Federation, we feel most welcome,” Corbin said before taking a sip. The drink was sweet, lightly alcoholic, and chilled with shards of ice. That was a pleasant surprise, and thankfully, it had somewhat watered down the drink. Alongside that, Carrilion’s precautionary anti-intoxicant injection ensured that neither he nor his officers would feel its effects during the long evening ahead. It would last for at least twenty-four hours, giving them enough time to perform their diplomatic duties while at this state banquet.

I’Tareen had spared no expense in honouring her guests. A complete military ceremonial parade marked their arrival. A guided tour of the Ivalan legislature followed, led by the Prime Curator and some of her close advisors, as well as her own senior staff. She spoke eloquently about how the political system was set up. Eventually, they had moved from the central government building to her own residence.

The main entrance hall was a grand display of the Ivalan Union’s rich history, featuring a vast gallery of artefacts and paintings that chronicled past leaders and their accomplishments. The grand ballroom, for tonight’s purpose transformed into a banquet hall of gold and glass, exuded an air of extravagance and luxury that made Corbin feel like he was back home on Betazed.

They had been escorted to their seats at the long rectangular table in the centre of the hall. It was covered in neatly pressed white and gold tablecloths, with gold cutlery and dishes complementing it.

I’Tareen informed her guests that a freshly cooked seven-course meal awaited them. As each course was served, it was introduced with a speech from an Ivalan official, adding a formal touch to the evening. The Prime Curator herself had spoken as the main course was served, setting the tone for the rest of the evening.

As the servers presented the next course, succulent cuts of roasted meat on square, golden plates, the Prime Curator resumed their earlier conversation. “So, Captain, you were telling us about the formation of your Federation. You mentioned it began over two centuries ago?”

“Two hundred and forty-one to be precise,” Corbin said as he carefully cut into his own meal. “The Federation was formed as a political alliance between the planetary governments of Earth, Vulcan, Andoria and Tellar. Since then, our membership has grown to include hundreds of warp-capable, space-faring civilisations. Thousands of worlds are united for mutual progress and peace.”

“Then the Ivalan Union must appear as an atom against your vast empire,” I’Tareen said, tasting the line with curiosity.

Nelson interjected gently but with quiet conviction. “We’re not an empire, ma’am. The Federation is a union of worlds, interstellar states and peoples. All of whom are joined under a democratic government. We don’t seek conflict with our neighbours.”

“Including the Klingon and Romulan Empires?” I’Tareen asked, her tone caught between curiosity and quiet challenge.

“We’re allies with both the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Republic,” Corbin replied. “They remain independent, but our treaties call for cooperation and mutual support.”

I’Tareen set down her fork-like cutlery and lifted her glass, taking a measured sip of the clear liquid. “Will either of them ever join your Federation?”

Corbin traded a glance with Merrendis before answering. “I can’t say for certain if that’s ever going to happen, but if either power wished to explore membership, then I’m sure the Federation Council would be open to discussing the matter with them.”

“And would that be the end goal you wish to discuss with the Ivalan Union?”

Corbin let out a quiet, nervous chuckle. He could sense that I’Tareen’s question reflected the thoughts of everyone else at the table. “That’s a decision only you and your people can make, ma’am. Our Prime Directive prevents us from interfering in the internal politics of any civilisation. Our goal is straightforward, centred on friendship and cooperation. We’d gladly discuss a non-aggression pact, trade agreements, or even an alliance. Whatever you feel comfortable exploring. And if you prefer no further contact, we’ll respect that and hope we can part on friendly terms.”

“To boldly go where no one has gone before,” Nelson said, setting her glass down on the pristine white cloth. She caught I’Tareen’s eye and smiled softly. “Those words come from a scientist of my homeworld. His name was Zefram Cochrane. He built humanity’s first warp drive, laying the foundation for what became Starfleet. His vision was simple: to explore new worlds, meet new civilisations, and do so in peace. These are always our intentions. We don’t want to conquer anyone.”

I’Tareen listened intently, her composed stillness setting an example for the rest of her delegation. “So you’re saying your Federation has never engaged in open warfare?”

Merrendis added with composed calm. “Like many great powers, the Federation has known conflict, but never as the aggressor. Each time, we’ve sought understanding with those who saw us as enemies. The Klingons and Romulans are proof that peace can follow even the fiercest of wars.”

Before anyone could say anything, their conversation was shattered when Corbin’s combadge chirped sharply.

“Atlas to Captain Corbin.”

Corbin, maintaining his diplomatic demeanour, acknowledged the interruption with a polite smile before responding to the call. He tapped the silver delta insignia on his chest before speaking up. “Go ahead, Commander.”

“Sorry to disturb your evening, sir,” came the Bajoran’s composed but tense voice, “but we’re being surrounded. Twelve Ivalan civilian freighters of different classes and configurations have just taken formation around the Atlas. They’ve raised shields and locked weapons on us.”

The quiet hum of the dining hall ceased at once. Every conversation at the long table dissolved into silence.
Corbin frowned. “Did you say civilian freighters?”

“That’s correct, sir. But they’re transmitting something else. It’s an open broadcast.” Alkos paused briefly. “It’s a repeating signal: ‘Surrender to the Deep Light. The Deep Light protects us.’”

At those words, Corbin felt the colour drain from his face. Nelson turned sharply toward him, eyes widening. Even Merrendis’s usual calm seemed to falter. They had all heard those words before, but had not been able to understand them or know their origin.

“The Deep Light…” Merrendis murmured.

I’Tareen stiffened, her expression unreadable. “You know of this? How?”

Corbin met her gaze gravely. “We’ve heard it before. From the crew of the I’Shathren.”

“How do you know?” she asked, alarm rising in her tone.

Corbin took a breath before he replied. He tried to remain diplomatic as best as he could. “The last log entry from Captain I’Virella mentioned the same phrase. ‘Surrender to the Deep Light.’ We were not able to determine what it meant or how it was linked to the crew’s erratic behaviour.”

Nelson leaned forward, lowering her voice. “And there’s more. We think those affected by whatever caused the crew to behave the way they did made them remove their eyes.”

The Prime Curator’s expression hardened. “The Doctrine of Unseeing,” she stated calmly. A low sense of annoyance started to creep through her tone. It was as if a huge state secret had been revealed. She picked up her glass one more time and finished its contents with one mighty gulp. Looking back at her guests, she revealed everything she knew. Corbin could sense how much she was struggling with it all and knew she was taking a massive leap of faith in explaining all to them; nonetheless, he appreciated her candour with them.

“It’s a small religious sect that has grown on some of our outer colonies, especially in the smaller areas on Ivalis Two. Our intelligence services have been cracking down on their gatherings for weeks now. They have existed only in scattered pockets, from fringe settlements and colonies in the outer regions of our system. From what we’ve been able to determine, they’re fanatics who completely reject our own founding principles of rationalism and the sciences leading on our way of life. We believed they were isolated.”

She shook her head, visibly unsettled by it all. “I do not understand how they could have obtained ships, let alone coordinated such an action. We recently imprisoned some of their senior religious leaders and shut down one of their prominent places of worship on Ivalis Two. Those we captured confessed to their crimes against others and provided us with additional information on the whereabouts of others in their groups. I thought we were close to stopping it all. The madness you saw from the records of the I’Shathren are the same behaviours we’ve seen from others within the Union. It is not an isolated matter.”

Corbin truly felt for her. The burden of leadership was heavy. “Do you know where it all started?” Corbin quizzed her.

I’Tareen shook her head. “No, we’re not sure if it’s a form of mass psychosis or if it’s some external intervention from others in the region, like the Klingons or the Romulans. It’s why we quizzed you earlier. I wanted to see if you knew anything about it all. It turns out you’re just in the dark as we are on this.”

“I’m sorry we can’t be of any more help, Madam Prime Curator, but I can’t have religious idealists target my ship and kill my crew,” Corbin stated flatly.

Shaking her head, I’Traan tried to explain more. “That’s the thing, Captain Corbin, you need to understand those who have been affected were reasonable and respectful citizens. None of them has a criminal record. None of them have any ties with each other, which would link the sudden surge and rise of this movement. I can’t understand how they can get their hands on those ships either. We pride ourselves on the security of the commerce fleet.” She looked at her colleagues for support. All of them looked as dumbfounded as she was.

Alkos’s voice cut back in, firmer this time. “Captain, I can confirm these freighters are not standard cargo hauliers. They’re armed, and I mean they are well armed. Multiple pulse-phaser cannons, quantum torpedo launchers, reinforced ablative hull plating and multiphasic shielding. We’re also detecting on four of them, large hangar bays with advanced automated fighters inside them. I’d estimate at least half could hold their own against the Atlas.”

Nelson looked stunned. “Freighters? With that level of firepower?”

Even Merrendis frowned. “That’s not standard for civilian transport.”

I’Tareen exhaled sharply. “Our freighter fleets move vital resources across the system, from industrial reactors, ore, and food convoys to our outer colonies. Their safety is a constant concern. Without it, the Union would fall into shambles. It is only prudent that our civilian captains be able to defend themselves from any outside threats. But for these weapons to be turned against you…” She trailed off, clearly unsettled by the idea.

Corbin’s jaw tightened. “If they’re truly Doctrine followers, they may believe Atlas represents everything they reject.”

“Or,” Nelson said softly, “they’re worried we know more than we should.”

Corbin looked at his first officer and knew what she was implying. She was worried that his recent nightmares may be connected, and they saw him and the Atlas as a threat to their cause. It seemed quite a far-fetched idea, but Corbin wasn’t going to dismiss the notion. Not yet.

The Prime Curator’s gaze darkened. “If that is true, they will not stop with threats. The Doctrine’s extremists have already attacked others, blinded themselves and others, including those who are not followers.”

“You mean, you know about others taking their eyes out?” Rowal asked, surprised. The Deltan officer had remained quiet throughout their visit, but that revelation was enough for him to react.

“Commander Alkos,” Corbin said into his combadge, voice-controlled but clipped, “raise shields, go to red alert. Do not return fire without my direct order. Keep a defensive posture and broadcast continuous hails on all frequencies of our peaceful intentions.”

“Acknowledged, sir. They’re not responding so far. Their chants are still repeating.”

A murmur of unease rippled through the Ivalan delegation.

Nelson leaned closer to Corbin. “Captain, if this is spreading beyond isolated sects, it’s more than a local rebellion. It’s coordinated.”

“I know,” he murmured. Then, to I’Tareen, “Madam Prime Curator, with respect, this may no longer be a domestic crisis. If something, or someone, is driving this Doctrine to act in unison, it could endanger more than your world.”

I’Tareen drew a steadying breath. “Then we must act together. Captain, I will not deny responsibility for what these radicals have done. Let me accompany you to the Atlas. My presence may convince them to stand down or at least buy us time to uncover who is truly behind this madness.”

“Weren’t we just talking about non-interference with other cultures?” Merrendis reminded the captain.

“That was until a bunch of religious madmen targeted our ship, counsellor,” Nelson quipped.

Corbin ignored the exchange between his officers and looked to the Ivalan leader. He hesitated for a beat, then nodded at her previous offer. “If you join us back on the Atlas, you’ll follow my orders once aboard. Safety first.”

“Agreed,” she said firmly. “May I bring my own protection detail and senior staff? We will also deploy our own ships to stand alongside your ship. We won’t accept this aggression toward our newest friends.”

“Of course,” Corbin agreed, he couldn’t stop a head of state from putting themselves on the line without their own support network. He needed to show they were true to their word of cooperation.

Once everything was sorted at their end, Corbin touched his combadge. “Corbin to Atlas, we’re ready to come back home.”

As the transporter shimmered, it surrounded the large group, and the lights of the banquet hall dimmed out of existence.