Tanna woke to silence, not to the cheerful chirps of the ship’s morning cycle, or to the hum of machinery, but to the gentle, resonant quiet of the living cavern. She blinked in the daylight streaming in through the window, taking a moment to remember where she was.

Right. Underground. Far below the surface of a planet that had been uncharted until about a week ago.

Lieutenant Commander Cruikshank and Lieutenant Junior Grade T’Luni were already gone. Their palettes sat empty, bedrolls neatly stowed away under them – typical early risers.

Tanna stretched, stifling a yawn, then reached for her field kit. Within a few minutes, their chamber was filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee – a small, familiar pleasure in this entirely alien world. She sat cross-legged on her palette with a cup cradled in her hands.

“Starfleet’s finest starts here,” she said, taking a sip from the steaming mug.

Once caffeinated, she grabbed her tricorder, slung her field pack over her shoulder, and stepped out the door into the warm, golden glow of the cavern’s daylight cycle. To say the cavern was massive would be a gross understatement. The walls were all carved into tiers and balconies, some natural and some shaped deliberately by generations of careful hands. Waterfalls fell from cracks high overhead, spilling into cisterns that had been carved alongside the terraces. Farther below, families had already begun their morning chores, their voices melodic and layered with harmonics that still sent a curious thrill down Tanna’s spine.

She’d barely taken three steps before she noticed the group of villagers that seemed to be waiting for her.

Four adolescents – young by the villagers’ standards, about the equivalent of human teenagers – lounged near the railing outside the guest chambers. They straightened as she approached.

One stepped forward. It was the young boy who had served her plate last night at the feast.

He was striking in the glow of the simulated sunlight. His skin was pale, and he lacked the luminescent patterns along his temples that Tanna had seen on the adults. His hair was longer, a soft silver-blond that was braided with tiny polished stone beads that clicked together softly when he moved. His silver eyes caught the light like polished metal.

He bowed slightly. “Tanna-of-the-Sky-Ship.”

Tanna smiled. “Just Tanna is fine.”

He repeated it, tasting the shape of it. “Ta…nna…” Then he gestured eagerly. “I am Che’dik. We wish to show you our home.”

The others nodded vigorously, like they had been rehearsing this greeting.

Tanna chuckled. “Alright. Lead the way.”

They set off along the carved walkway that hugged the cavern wall. From here, the scale of the settlement stretched even farther: Farms built vertically into shelves, pools of water where iridescent fish drifted lazily around, communal areas filled with the warm hum of activity. Tanna’s adolescent tour group explained everything, often interrupting each other in their excitement.

“This terrace is for drying fibres –”

“Those symbols mark clan sites –”

“That sound is the wind organs. They sing at night when the wind shifts –”

“Do not touch the red moss unless you wish your fingers to tingle for three cycles.”

Tanna laughed, absorbing every detail like a sponge.

They crossed a rope bridge that bounced gently underfoot. The teenagers all walked it with effortless grace, their slightly webbed toes gripping the woven fibres with ease. Tanna took it slower, aware of their polite attempts not to rush her.

Far below, tiny points of light flickered along the cavern walls. Insects maybe? Or more Lantern Stones? The effect was mesmerizing.

“We cultivate them for ritual,” one of the other adolescents said. “Or festivals. They respond to song.”

Of course they do, Tanna thought.

The path broadened on the far side of the rope bridge as it entered a smaller cavern connected to the main settlement. The air here was filled with subtle smells: earthy, floral, metallic.

This was a market.

Stalls carved from smooth stone curved into alcoves, each arranged with displays of colourful items: woven garments dyed in pale mineral hues, carved figurines, polished bone tools, dried herbs bundled in twine, tiny glowing orbs hung like lanterns. The air was filled with the peaceful sound of villagers calling out to one another in soft harmonics.

Che’dik and the others grabbed her hands and arms and led her to one particular stall where an elderly villager stood stooped slightly, draped in layers of soft fabric. Their skin bore the familiar glowing tattoos that glimmered faintly with each breath, though it was loose and wrinkled.

They studied Tanna for a long moment. Their scrutiny was not suspicious, but thoughtful, as though evaluating where she fit into the larger pattern of things. Then they turned around slowly and withdrew a folded garment from a shelf behind them.

It shimmered faintly, woven from threads in gradients of blue, white, and soft pearl. When they unfolded it, the fabric caught the cavern light from overhead, revealing subtle patterns stitched in near-invisible thread. Spirals, crescents, and handprints, reminiscent of the cavern’s glowing wall painting. A beautifully made wrap.

They held it out to her. “For you. A welcome gift. A marker of friendship.”

Tanna blinked. “This… this is too generous.”

Instantly, her group of tour guides broke out in animated protest.

“You must –”

“It’s respectful –”

“They want you to have it –”

“Put it on! Put it on!”

The elderly villager chuckled in amusement, then draped the garment over Tanna’s forearm and placed a wrinkled hand over Tanna’s. “It is freely given,” they said, clapping her hand softly with their own.

Tanna took her other hand and pressed it to her chest, like she had seen the other villagers do the night before, and bowed her head. “Then I accept. Thank you.”

The teens practically corralled her into a small alcove that was adjacent to the shop, demanding she change immediately. She rounded the sharp corner to gain some privacy, then pulled off her uniform and tucked it into her bag. She draped the wrap around herself, imitating the villager’s style. Across the chest, looped around the waist, and then fastened it over one shoulder with a carved stone clasp. The fabric settled against her skin like cool water, lightweight but substantial.

When she stepped back out of the alcove, the group let out a collective gasp. The garment had transformed her silhouette, making her look taller and more graceful. The soft blues brought out the warmth in her skin tone, while the pearlescent stitching shimmered faintly, almost echoing the villagers’ glowing markings. The elderly villager nodded slowly with approval, and the gang of teens dipped their heads.

“You look like one of us now,” Che’dik said.

Tanna felt heat rise in her cheeks. She was both touched and flattered, and more than a little overwhelmed. She lifted the edge of the wrap with a grin, revealing bare feet beneath. “Then show me everything.”

They pulled her father into the market, the air still filled with the soft chiming of hanging ornaments and the melodic murmur of villagers trading secrets or greeting each other in layered harmonic tones. Tanna couldn’t stop running her fingers over the fabric of the wrap, still astonished at how naturally it seemed to fit.

A tug on her elbow made her turn.

The smallest of the adolescent tour guides, a girl with pale violet eyes and short, fibrous hair pulled into a half-braid, studied her with a thoughtful expression.

“You are not finished,” the girl said.

Tanna blinked. “I’m not?”

The girl shook her head vigorously from side to side, then picked up a handful of the wrap and gestured to Tanna’s hair. “This is worn with hair decoration. May I?”

Tanna smiled. “Of course.”

The girl’s face brightened like a lantern. She reached into a small pouch on her hip and pulled out a handful of colourful beads carved from shimmering stones. They were iridescent, changing from blur to green to silver depending on how you looked at them. Each one had the spiral symbol that Tanna had seen repeated throughout the tunnels and settlement.

The girl guided Tanna to a low stone bench, and the rest of the adolescents gathered around and sat on the ground, watching like this was some kind of significant ritual. The girl worked with gentle, careful fingers, parting a lock of Tanna’s hair near her temple. Her movements were practiced – twist, loop, braid, secure – and her touch had a soothing, rhythmic quality.

“You have very soft hair,” the girl murmured.

“And you’re very skilled,” Tanna replied, trying not to move.

The girl smiled shyly at the praise and slid the first bead into place, securing it with a pull. It settled against Tanna’s hair with a faint, musical chime. The bead was actually resonating, as if it contained a tiny vibration of the Stone. The second bead followed, braided just slightly higher, then the lock of Tanna’s hair was braided to its end, and she placed three more beads on the end of the braid, securing them with an intricate knot. When the girl finished, she placed her palms lightly on the braid at Tanna’s temple, humming a soft, two-tone note. The beads glowed faintly in response.

Tanna’s breath caught. “That… that’s beautiful.”

“It suits you,” the girl said, stepping back proudly. “Now you look like a visitor of honour.”

One of the other boys elbowed Che’dik playfully in the side. “She looked fine before, don’t you think?”

“That is not the point,” the girl said with a dignified sniff.

Tanna touched the beads gently. They were warm, and resonating with a low vibration. She ran the tips of her fingers across the two over her ear, then down the long braid to the three at the bottom. “What do they mean?”

“Protection,” the girl replied, “and welcome, and curiosity. We use these,” she took the three in her hand, “to mark those who walk new paths.”

Tanna’s smile softened, and she again placed her hand over her heart. “I am honoured.”

The group of adolescents exchanged gleeful looks. They didn’t say it out loud, but Tanna could feel the message, loud and clear. She belonged here, at least for now.