“Can’t sleep?” Samantha Michaels asked as she stepped up beside Republic’s Chief Science Officer.

The air was cold and crisp, the harsh, dry cold of a desert night. No moisture in the air to hold heat and no heat to be had. While tents and sleeping bags would let the sleepers reside in perfect comfort, those braving the night had to don field jackets and still keep hands either shoved in pockets or wrapped around a hot drink.

“I don’t do this very often,” Matt Lake said, sparing a moment to see who had spoken; who was approaching. “Just looking up at the stars.”

“You live on a spaceship,” Sam said. She’d opted for the hot drink method of keeping her hands warm. “Just look out the window.”

“Not the same, Lieutenant. Not the same at all.” Matt spared a smile, then held his arms up, encompassing the entire sky. “Look at it. Just look at it.” He relaxed, hands quickly back into his jacket pockets. “In space everything is too sharp, too clear. No atmosphere to get in the way, to cause stars to flicker.”

Silence lingered, frozen in the cold air for a few seconds. “Huh, so they do,” Sam finally said, her eyes skyward now. “Awful lot of them up there. Don’t think I ever saw this many at home.”

“Light pollution robs so much from so many, and they don’t even know it.” Matt sounded wistfully sad at that. “But here, this world, this place. Pristine skies. Absolutely beautiful.” He paused, then pointed upwards, tracking a moving pinprick of light against the vast cosmos. “Republic.”

“Where’s Atlantis?” Sam asked.

“Straight up. Give it about fifteen minutes and there’ll be a flare as they slip out from the umbra.”

Silence was marred only by the sound of sipping. “So, can’t sleep?” Sam repeated her question. “Or intentionally stargazing?”

“Oh, definitely the latter.” Matt spoke around a slight chuckle. “Last time I saw the night sky this clear was wilderness survival training.”

Sam sighed. “I spent most of mine just trying to find water and food. Was so tired I must have crashed out after sundown every night.”

“And miss this?” Matt once more pointed at the sky. “Infinite majesty right there to enjoy.”

“Infinite majesty can wait,” another voice in the dark said, approaching from the inky black surrounding the Starfleet camp and into the few very faint lights scattered around. “We’ve got movement on the southern perimeter.”

“Rosa?” Sam’s question identified the speaker for Matt. “Wait, we never got the duck blind working properly.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Rosa Mackeson said, walking past the other two. “Keep an eye out. I’m going to find One.”

“One?” Matt asked in Rosa’s wake.

“Silver One. Lieutenant Mitchell.”

“They have code names?”

“One, Two, Brek is Four, Amber is Five.”

“Not to be rude, but you missed Three,” Matt said.

“Ssshhhh!” Sam said, raising a finger to her lips and casting wild glances around. “Don’t say his name, it’ll draw his attention.” She stepped towards Matt, conspiratorial whispers following. “We don’t want his attention.”

“Who?”

“I’ve said too much,” Sam hissed.

“She’s messing with me, right?” Matt asked, meant for the universe at large, after Sam had departed, following Rosa. He hadn’t expected an answer.

“She is a protégé of Lieutenant Rrr’mmm’bal’rrr,” Brek said, emerging from the same direction Rosa had. “So, it is highly likely, as you humans say, she is indeed messing with you.”

“You’re missing a Three,” Matt said.

“Ah,” Brek said as he stalked past.

“Ma’am,” Gavin Mitchell said, tapping at the tent flap. “We might have a small issue.”

“Just a moment,” Gabrielle Camargo answered, taking a minute to actually wake up and dress before emerging into the grasping cold of the desert. At least the dark swallowed the blackness of the monolith. “What’s up?” she asked, zipping up her jacket against the cold.

“We might have visitors.” Gavin started slowly, leading Gabs towards the south side of the camp, collecting Rosa in their wake as they went. “Movement in the ruins.”

“Five, maybe six,” Rosa added. “Didn’t seem like they were being sneaky, just careful.”

“What’s the time?”

“Local equivalent of one in the morning,” Gavin answered.

Gabs nodded, turning to Rosa. “Wake a few others and do thermal and visual scans in every direction. Just in case.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the Orion woman answered, breaking away in quick order.

It didn’t take long to cross the campsite to the south side; one side of the entire camp anchored against the monolith as it was. “One of them is approaching,” Brek informed as Gavin and Gabs stepped up beside the Vulcan security officer. “Two hundred metres,” he said, pointing into the black.

“Great. First contact,” Gabs muttered. “And we’re breaking the Prime Directive.”

“We might get lucky and find a warp drive under the monolith,” Gavin joked dryly.

Slowly, a shape started to emerge, illuminated faintly by the slight light of the camp. Whereas the Starfleet crews had lightweight smart materials designed to combat the cold, the figure before them used the same tried-and-true method desert dwellers of a hundred worlds and throughout history had used — layers upon layers wrapped around them. They were tall, easily a head taller than the average of the away team. Their proportions looked stretched out, arms and legs equally longer.

As they came even closer, they slowed, hands at their sides and raised slightly, palms open. “Greetings, strangers,” the entity asked with a deep, resonant voice that leapt across the crisp air. “Might a traveller find some respite next to your fire?”

“Just yourself, or your fellows too?” Gabs asked, stepping forward. She could see the newcomer clearer than they likely could see her, the light at her back after all.

The chuckle wasn’t hard to miss, or obfuscated in the slightest. “Four more. All of us unarmed, just seeking a bit of warmth if you’ll let us.”

“Commander,” Gavin whispered from a few steps back, the warning implicit.

Gabs took a moment to consider the situation. Weighing variables. And then she smiled, turning with a raised arm, the invitation given. “Please join us.”

The figure whistled, the sharp sound echoing in the distance. Then they stepped forward and stopped an arm’s length from Gabrielle. They studied her, considering her, then removed the scarf around the lower part of their face, long limbs making the motion look just a little off. “You are not familiar to me,” the native man said, eyes flicking to the other Starfleet officers around. “New faces and new lights in the sky.”

“Commander Gabrille Camargo,” Gabs said, offering a hand in greeting. “Pleasure to meet you.”