“I’ve got you. Hold on there. I’ve got you.”

     Reva groaned, struggling weakly against the hands pulling her free from the wreckage of her captain’s yacht, the Rhiannon. 

     “Don’t fight me. You’ve got serious injuries. Let’s not make it worse, shall we?”

     The voice was male, but Reva realised with an unpleasant start that she couldn’t see her rescuer at all.

     “What… what happened,” Reva slurred. 

     Hands continued to pull her along. A pause, then she was lifted onto something cool and hard.

     “Your ship was caught in the same type of rogue ion storm that brought me here.” 

     “I can’t see.” 

     Reva felt gentle hands run over her, apparently assessing the damage. A tendril of something warm slithered up her chest and against her neck. There was a sharp prick at her throat, then a rush of something warm, and her ability to move drained away. 

     “You’ve been grievously injured. You should be dead, …Captain? I’m going to try to heal you.” There was another sharp prick, this time on the other side of her throat.

     “Captain, yes. My name is Reva Sarrik,” she slurred, the words like toffee in her mouth. 

     “Allemerra, Captain Sarrik. Pleasure to meet you. My name is Urzas, formerly of the ASF Planeswalker.

     “Sleep now, Captain. Let’s see if I can save us both.”

—————————————–

     “Captain Sarrik? Wake up, sir.” The rumbling burr of the USS Cardiff’s Caitian CMO pricked Reva’s consciousness.

     “What is her condition, Doctor?” came the lilting voice of Commander Liam ap Gareth, her Welsh first officer.

     “She seems fine, Commander. Though there are two small puncture wounds on her neck, one on either side.”

     Chirps and chitters from a tricorder brought Reva closer to waking. She stirred, opening her eyes to find Dr. Rrr’varric kneeling beside her. 

     “Welcome back to the world of the living, Captain.”

     “What happened?” Reva sat up, looking around. “Where’s the person who helped me?”

     “Helped you? Captain, you’re the only lifesign down here. The Rhiannon was caught in a rogue storm that crashed you here. They must happen often.” Gareth gestured to the surroundings and Reva realised they were in a veritable ship graveyard. Monstrous wrecks loomed overhead. “We overflew others while looking for you.”

     “Commander Gareth? I’ve got something over here. A body, but it looks to have been here a very long time.”

     Reva stood, following Gareth to where a security officer knelt by a bundle half covered by wreckage. The mummified body appeared male, with blond hair, and wearing a tattered grey robe. It lay on its side, in a fetal position. Reva guessed his height had been near seven feet. His nose had a broader bridge and ended in a cat-like rhinarium. His left leg ended at the knee. 

     “Poor sap. Wonder how long he’s been here.” Gareth knelt down as well, fingers running over the unusual patch that graced the shoulder of the dead man’s robe. It consisted of a serpent coiled through a gear behind a raptor with outspread wings “I don’t recognise his species, or this sigil.”

     “Scan it. We can run it through databases. Maybe we can find his people and let them know. Beam the body back to the Cardiff. Flag the planet and set warning buoys. We don’t want anyone else to end up here. A ship equipped for forensics disaster recovery can come sort the wreckage. Seems like quite a few people could use closure.”

     “Aye, Captain.” 

     Reva gave the body a final long look before turning away, grateful she wasn’t another statistic of the planet. As for the person who had helped her, she could only assume it had been a dream, and she’d gotten lucky, with nothing more than a severe concussion. 

Four months Later…

     Captain’s Log, Star date 2304.07 The Cardiff is en route to Dolmark, a planet deep in the Thomar Expanse. The Dolmari have reached out with a tentative offer of trade and cultural exchange. They desire to trade dilithium and parsteel for new tech.  Eager to foster goodwill and stability in a region, Starfleet was quick to send a ship.

     The Dolmari have been a reclusive race. Little is known about them, other than appearance. An average of four feet tall, they have reptilian features, though they be warm-blooded. Commander ap Gareth says they remind him of ‘kappa‘, an Earth cryptid of Japanese origin.

     Reva glanced around the conference table, taking in their expressions. Most wore frowns, though Lt. Ezill Kaalir had an excited look. Reva allowed herself a slight smile. Kaalir, a joined Trill, and Chief Science Officer, specialised in xenoanthropology, as Reva herself did. 

     “Comments? Concerns?” Reva looked at each in turn, inviting discourse.

     “Why now?” Piva Faarn, Tellarite Chief of Security asked. “Why do they want trade now, when they have such a history of secrecy?”

     “Perhaps they’ve decided to not let sector life pass them by any longer. There’s been a great deal of change and an increase in traffic throughout the Thomar Expanse. Better to get to know your neighbors early, yes?” Rrr’varric replied. The Caitian CMO’s ears twitched. “We have little biological knowledge of the Dolmari.  While they appear reptilian, they are warm-blooded, thriving at a temperature of 80-90 degrees Fahrenheit.”

     “They function in a strict caste society, Captain. Any breach of protocol is dealt with harshly. Any of us dealing with them need to be very strict with our own rank protocol. They’ll see our ranks as different caste levels and expect certain behaviours,” Kaalir said.

     “They’ve requested a Starfleet survey team to evaluate their mines, to reassure us that the ore is good.” Eshass Ch’shraonness put down the PADD he’d been looking at. The Andorian engineer looked slightly annoyed. “It’s an unnecessary request. We can scan the mines and get as good an assessment. Same with the ore. A sample can be brought to the ship. Less chance of derailing negotiation by a protocol faux pas.”

     “Agreed. But the Dolmari are adamant. We need to honour requests when possible. Assign a small survey team to accompany the negotiation team.”

     “Aye, Captain. I’ll have them ready.”

     “I’m not comfortable with you leading the away team, Captain.” Gareth ran a hand through his short, sandy brown hair. “It’s nae been that long since your accident, and I have an uneasy feeling about this whole mission.”

     He’s not wrong. Something feels off.

     Reva blinked at the unbidden thoughts, pushing them away. “Thank you for your concern, Commander, but I’m fine. It’s been four months. The Dolmari expect the Captain to lead the negotiations.”

     Gareth’s sceptical look said he felt otherwise, but he settled back with a nod. “At least take Lt. Faarn as a personal guard.”

     “Of course, Commander. Kaalir, you’ll be with Faarn and I. Ch’shraonness, choose a few officers you think would be best for this survey mission. Faarn, assign a team of security officers to accompany the survey team.”

     A chorus of “aye, sirs” ended the meeting. 

———————————

     The musical chime of the door broke through Reva’s concentration. She blinked, yawned. The chronometer told her it was early morning. On the desk before her a thick journal covered in deep green leather lay open, several pages filled with her neat script. She stared down at it, brow furrowed. A second chime turned her attention from the journal. 

     “Come!”

     “Bore da, Captain.” Commander Gareth greeted her in his customary Welsh. 

     Reva grinned. She enjoyed the language lessons with her second, nevermind that she’d never really have a chance to use it. She loved languages, and his ancestral one was lovely. 

     “Bore da, Commander.”

     “Starting a new sketchbook?” Gareth walked over to the desk. He gave her a critical once over. “Captain, are you feeling well? You look kinda rough, no offense. Maybe you should go see Dr Rrr’varric.”

     “I’m fine. Just tired.” Reva flipped the journal shut, revealing a richly detailed tree in full leaf. “No, it’s not another sketchbook. Apparently I’ve decided to take up writing. When I should be sleeping…”

     “May I ask what you’re writing? If it’s anything as good as your art–”

     “It… It appears I’ve decided to write out my dreams,” Reva shoved the journal off to the side.

     “Captain, you need to see Doc. It’s been four months. These dreams aren’t healthy.”

     “They’re not nightmares. But always consistent. Like I’ve tapped into someone else’s memories.”

     “Oh, yes, that’s perfectly normal and an acceptable excuse for insomnia,” Gareth chided. 

     “Perhaps not. But it’s a story I want to explore now and maybe writing it will bring an end to the intense dreams.” 

     Not likely.

     Reva yawned, ignoring the thought. “You are correct in one thing, Gareth. It shouldn’t eat into my sleep time.”

     “I want to read it when you’re done, Captain! And I came to tell you, we’ve arrived at Dolmark. The Dolmari would like to begin the negotiations as soon as possible.”

     “Thank you, Gareth. I’ll be up shortly.” She paused, contemplating the new journal. “Here, go ahead and read what’s written so far.” She handed the journal to Gareth.