The snow swallowed them the moment they hit the ground.

The impact of orbital skydiving still thrummed in Corbin’s bones, that strange mix of adrenaline, cold, and the lingering weightlessness of having dropped through the atmosphere at terminal velocity. The landing site, a shallow ridge just beyond the municipality threshold of I’Kanse, was half-hidden beneath swirling sheets of white. The wind cut low across the uneven ground, dragging curtains of powdered snow against their boots and legs.
Corbin pulled himself upright, boots crunching through the fresh layer. The others were already beginning to unclip the aerodynamic harnesses from their shoulders, the translucent gliding foils retracting into compact cylinders again. The skydiving packs on their backs hissed softly as the deploy vents sealed.

Behind them, the grey outline of I’Kanse blurred at the edges. Tall, angular structures of reinforced stone and metal rising from the snowfields. The settlement had a rigid, functional design, reflecting a world that prioritised endurance over beauty. Shapes formed not to please the eye but to hold fast through violent winters and storms rolling off the southern mountain chain. It wasn’t the same as those settlements that had impressed the Atlas crew days ago during their state banquet on Ivalis Prime. This world was far different from their luxury homeworld. It was tough, harsh, but functional. It did what it had to do to keep these people alive and provide for the rest of the Ivalis Union.

Corbin exhaled, his breath flaring white in the cold. It had been several years since he had last orbital skydived onto a real planet. Their plan for using the short-range transporters on each of the orbital weapon platforms had worked without a hitch. They hadn’t been detected and were able to use the relay system quickly. Though he had trained for undercover operations, actually getting behind enemy lines without detection provided him with a surge of adrenaline. He turned to his team. “Everyone intact?”

Nelson gave a short nod as she shrugged off her dive pack. “All limbs accounted for.”

“That was fun,” Ortega said flatly as she unclipped her gear. “By which I mean: let’s never do that again unless you’re paying me several barrels of bloodwine.”

Carillion laughed as she straightened and brushed snow out of her hair. “Speak for yourself, sweetie. I love a good fall. All that wind. Freefalling. Amazing!”

Rowal, remaining calm and methodical, unfastened his harness with clinical tidiness. “If that was a good fall, we need to redefine the word ‘good’. The cloud coverage was intense; however, at least it concealed our entrance to anyone looking up.”

The snow thickened again, flakes catching on their uniforms as the wind shifted direction.

“Gear up,” Corbin ordered. “I’m not planning for any of us to freeze to death down here.”

They opened their packs simultaneously, pulling out the insulated Starfleet field coats. The coats were heavy, reinforced with thermal panelling and lined with micro-heating nano-fibres that flared to life on skin contact. Corbin slipped his arms into the sleeves, fastened the seals, and pulled the hood up over his head. Immediately, the biting wind dulled to a muted whisper.

Around him, the others did the same.

Nelson went first; her hood was already up, and she was tightening the drawstring under her chin as the rest of them were still getting the coats on. Ortega and Rowal followed next, movements efficient and practised. Carillion tugged her hood down over her ears, shivering dramatically as she did so.

“Feels like Andoria out here,” she muttered, rubbing her gloves together.

“Let’s just hope the Ivalans aren’t interested in any duels, as I left my ushaan-tor in my other winter coat,” Ortega said, deadpan.

Nelson straightened, already pulling out her tricorder. “All right. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

The device hummed to life, its display flickering with readings interrupted by gusts of static. Nelson angled the tricorder slightly, adjusting filters.

“Got it,” she announced after a moment. “The source of the neurogenic field is eight hundred meters ahead underground in that direction.” She pointed towards an area just outside the I’Kanse settlement.

I’Hernis, standing just behind Corbin, stepped forward. The sheriff’s breath rolled out in thick clouds. He and his companion had also put on similar gear to their Federation counterparts, though not as dense. It was apparent they were used to this climate. “That would put it near the archaeological site. Excavation on that tract only began recently.”

I’Timis nodded, adjusting the hood of his long black winter coat. “Security will be minimal. If I remember correctly, the site was small and had a skeleton team of researchers and three guards. But with the Doctrine presence in town,” His expression darkened. “Caution would be wise. Outsiders are unwelcome. Unbelievers even more so.”

Corbin tightened his gloves around the grip of his type-three phaser rifle. “We stay together. No engaging unless we have no choice.”

Rowal checked the settings on his own rifle, the small beam emitter on top of the barrel activating before he switched on his wrist-mounted torch. The blue-white light cut a clean path through the swirling snow. “I suggest we set our phaser to heavy stun.”

“Very good, Mister Rowal,” Corbin agreed. He wasn’t keen on shooting any of the locals, but on the other hand, they were on their own and needed to complete this mission.

“Ready when you are, captain,” Nelson said after she too adjusted her phaser rifle to show she was good to get underway.

“Let’s move,” Corbin ordered as he took one step forward towards their next destination.

The outskirts of I’Kanse were quiet in the wrong way. No sound except the wind. No movement except snow shifting across rooftops and drifting in the narrow spaces between structures. The closer they got to the town’s centre, the more oppressive the silence became. No one had come out to greet them or even take a look at their new visitors.

I’Hernis led them to a sloped path carved through snowbanks, guiding them down toward the outskirts of the dig site. I’Timis walked on the opposite flank, eyes sweeping the ridgelines above them.

“That building there,” I’Hernis said, pointing toward a low structure partially buried by the storm, “was the central station for the archaeological team.”

“Was?” Nelson asked sharply.

“Well, it looks abandoned, Commander”, I’Hernis finished softly.

As they approached, Corbin felt something tug at the back of his mind. It was a soft pressure, subtle at first, then steadily growing. Not painful, but persistent, like a distant vibration he could feel more than hear.
By the time they reached the outer perimeter of the excavation, the feeling grew sharper.

That was when they saw the bodies.

Dozens of Ivalans lay sprawled across the snow. Some on their backs, others collapsed against equipment crates. Their eyes were closed. Their breathing was shallow. Their expressions were peaceful, in fact, too peaceful. It was almost like they were in a state of pure ecstasy.

Corbin felt his stomach tighten. “Carrilion.”

The Tyran doctor was already kneeling next to the nearest figure, tricorder in hand. She activated her medical scanner, and the readings flooded in almost immediately. Her expression shifted from concern to worry.

“They’re alive,” she said with some sense of relief in her tone. “But they’re under the same neurogenic influence that knocked you out. Levels are identical. Whatever’s generating the field is stronger here. It would appear that close-range exposure is overwhelming them.”

“So they’re unconscious?” Nelson asked.

Carrilion shook her head slowly. “I think it’s more than that. Their neural patterns are synchronised. Completely. They’re in a shared state of almost a collective unconscious. A dream they’re all experiencing together.”

Ortega frowned. “Creepy.”

Rowal swept his rifle light across the field of bodies. “There are at least forty people here.”

I’Timis knelt beside another unconscious Ivalan and touched two fingers to the man’s neck. “He’s cold. How long have they been like this?”

“Based on metabolic slowdown?” Carillion responded. “I would say for many hours. Maybe a full day.”

Corbin blinked hard. His vision swayed slightly, just enough to make the snow tilt to the right. He steadied himself with a hand on his rifle.

Nelson noticed immediately. “Captain, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, a lie even he knew she wouldn’t accept.

Carillion moved fast, tricorder already recalibrating. “Hold still, sir.”

He exhaled as she scanned him. The device chirped sharply.

“Your psilosynine levels are spiking again,” she said, her tone sharpening. “Proximity to the field is triggering a reaction. You’re probably more sensitive because of the previous contact.”

“I can manage,” Corbin replied.

“No, you can’t,” she snapped. “Not without some help.”

Carillion reached into her medkit and pulled out a hypospray. Before he could argue, she pressed it to his neck. A cold rush spread through his system.

“A cortical suppressant,” she said. “And—”

She removed a small device, placed it on the side of his neck, and the cortical inhibitor hissed as it activated.
“—that should stabilise your neural activity. The double dose will reduce the influence, but it won’t eliminate it.

You need to tell us if anything feels wrong.”

Corbin inhaled, steadying himself as the fog in his mind thinned slightly. “I will.” Instantly, he saw a glare from Nelson and knew he had no choice but to comply like a Borg drone to the Borg Queen.

And then, clearer than thought, came a pull. It was a sense of direction, faint but unmistakable. He turned toward the pit entrance.

“I know where the source is,” he said quietly.

Nelson stepped beside him. She gave him a look that said she believed him. “Lead the way, sir.”

The excavation tunnels were narrow, half-finished corridors carved into black and grey stone. The team now donned their phaser rifles properly, with the barrel torches casting beams that danced across the uneven walls as they moved further inwards. Corbin felt like whatever was trying to connect to him was pulling on him like a leash.

The descent was steep in some places, interrupted by scaffolding and metal supports that creaked faintly in the wind sweeping down from the entrance.

Ortega examined a control panel near one of the lifts. “Power’s dead. We’re walking.”

“I prefer walking,” Rowal said.

“I know,” she replied, unimpressed.

They continued downward, following Corbin’s instincts. The pressure in his mind grew with each step. The more they made their way in, the more everything had a faint sense of familiarity for him. Corbin couldn’t quite work out what it was about this place or whatever was pulling at him. Maybe not pulling, but pushing him. It wasn’t aggressive; it was almost instinctive.

At the final turn, the tunnel opened abruptly.

Corbin stopped first.

Then the others stepped beside him, speechless.

The cavern stretched out in all directions. An immense subterranean chamber big enough to house a starship construction dock stood before them all. The ceiling was lost in shadow. The air was still, unnaturally so, like a held breath.

And at the centre, rising from a circular plateau of carved stone, stood a massive, impressive spire. It looked like nothing they had encountered on the planet so far. It wasn’t Ivalan.

Glossy. Dark. Seamless. Its surface shimmered faintly, absorbing the light from their torches rather than reflecting it. The structure rose upward, narrowing as it climbed, disappearing into the darkness overhead.

A presence radiated from it. Not sound, not vibration, but something deeper.

Something alive.

Ortega’s voice cut through the silence as she looked up from her tricorder. “That thing is exactly one kilometre high.”

Corbin’s breath caught in his chest.

Because whatever this spire was, it was awake.

And it was dreaming.

He could hear it all.