The sound of the bells echoed across Varanesh, their music travelling through every street. They sound seemed to lean toward the Spire at the centre of the city, as if they called you toward it.

A federation shuttle swung downwards across the tops of the shimmering building, Ens Zoral at the helm. Through the shuttles forward viewscreen, Cdr Jorik Traven, Captain of the USS San Clemente watched as the spires shadow struck the plaza below. Beside him, his first officer, Lt Cdr T’Lenar reviewed the courtesy document sent by the Communion of Light on her PADD. “we are to move in threes across any sacred thresholds,” she said. “And surrender any weapons, even ceremonial ones.”

“I bet the you’re pleased about that,” Traven muttered sarcastically to Captain L’rena, sat across the aisle from him.

She clasped her forearm and tried not to smirk. “We will surrender our steel, but keep our teeth,” she replied.

The shuttles speed eased as they approached the landing area assigned by Caelari Traffic control. On the console in front of him Ens Zoral fed details to keep their approach steady.

“Counsellor,” Traven called toward the back of the shuttle, “How does it feel?”

Sora Venn’s eyes squinted while she tried to use her Betazoid abilities to hone into the feeling she’s had on the ship. “It feels different than when we were in orbit. It’s almost as if it’s tuned in…. more focused.”

He nodded in response and had to hide a smile as he glanced toward the IKS Y’tem’s first officer Tal’kor who looked bemused toward the Sora.

The shuttle settled the landing pad which shimmered with inlaid stone. A procession approached as the shuttle’s door opened. Their garments caught light in the ripples.

Central to them was a woman with long pale hair, the colour of the inside of a shell, bowed. “Honoured Captains,” she said with a voice trained to carry. “I am High Luminary Serad. The Communion of Light welcomes you to Varanesh to learn with us.”

Traven bowed the way T’Lenar has shown he, slightly lower than Serad’s. L’rena inclined her head. Behind them their officers fanned out into place in threes.

Acolytes approached them carrying trays. On each lay a cloth, Serad spoke once more, “Honoured ones, metal that can be used to cut is set aside in the halls of the listening.”

Tal’kor unbuckled his dagger and placed in on a tray, Sh’rol doing the same with his phaser. A young Acolyte trembled as they approached L’rena, the captain rested her hand on the tray briefly. “I surrender this willingly,” she said and the trembling subsided.

Serad led them all down, toward the spire.

As they approached, pilgrims had gathered. Not to see the strangers, but in what the officers assumed was prayer toward the spire. Anolytes walked amongst them, lighting pearly glass lanterns.

“Here,” Serad said, “we do not speak a lot, instead we listen. The Radiance is within the listening rather than the telling.”

Traven gave his first officer a nod. The officers behind dispersing slightly. T’Lenar affixed an optic sampler to the base of the nearest lantern. Trang, slid his finder across a bracelet, activating a micro resonance reader.

Sora was stood by a plinth, her hand grasped together. When the bells reached a longer note she gasped softly.

“Counsellor?” Traven whispered toward her.

“This hall gathers attention, feelings, if you listen to yourself and your surroundings here it is gathered together.”

A child came and knelt near her, then looked toward the closest lantern and closed his eyes. As he did so the light brightened and then steadied again.

The sound of the bells dies down and Serad walked toward the group. “We have prepared rooms where your scientists may study,” she said. “We ask that no damage is done to the spire and no samples are taken. The spire has endured the unkindness of time and will endure your presence, but we ask for kindness.”

“Of course,” Traven said.

L’rena nodded once toward her. “We will respect this.”

The rooms that both crews were allocated looked to have been used by scholars in the past. Their walls covered with shelving, holding books and scrolls. Some looked untouched for decades, if not longer. The closest column to the spire hummed with sound, just under what was audible to any of the away team. But all could feel the sound if they stood near for too long.

There was a large table at the centre of the room, both crews set up their stations upon it and readings had started to display on the screens.

“Phase match to the bells” She said excitedly,

On the Y’tem’s side of the table Trang glanced up, “try not to be wrong, Starfleet.”

“Try to keep up,” she responded playfully.

The readings were starting to build a picture of the correlation between bells and resonant energy. The spire was giving up its secrets without anyone needing to physically go near. The vibrations wound down into the bedrock of the planet.

“This is old,” Trang said looking toward the Starfleet science offier, “much older than the first settlement under the plaza.”

T’Lenar stepped toward him, “How old?” she asked.

Saell joined into the conversation, reading the data from her screen. “Old enough that we’re not talking about years.”

Sora rubbed her fingers against the palm of her hand. “It isn’t pushing,” she said, The Spire isn’t trying to be anything. It’s amplifying whatever is directed toward it, joy, grief, pain. If there is nothing then it will draw the silence.

“An amplifier,” T’Lenar responded, her mind already planning containment protocols. “Captain, this has implications for global effects, if not further.”

“Dr. Paldor will want a med team available,” traven said, “Sora, start with monitoring personnel to build guidelines for exposure.”

Sora nodded and turned to make the arrangements.

L’rena had remained quiet for longer than was natural for her, she watched her crew and Starfleet interact. With hearing this, she leant across the table and tapped an area on one of the Starfleet consoles displaying a map of the resonance underground. “here,” she said simply. “This shape is not Caelari, I’m going to send a micro drone into the lower galleries.

Serad had entered the room a few minutes before and had seen their interactions and L’rena’s proposal. “A small one is permissible, but I must insist that it is monitored by a priest.”

“There is honour in prudence,” L’rena nodded in agreement.

“The I will send for Cantor Ilyene,” Serad said,  “She is a scholar of the outer terraces. In the meantime my city wishes to greet you all properly. The outer courtyards are full of those who wish to see your faces.”

Both Traven and L’rena agreed, leaving some of their officers to continue their studies, they followed Serad.

The courtyards felt different. While still overlooked by the main spire, the openness of the skies made them feel brighter. The skies danced with the pearlescence of the Halo in the distance. There were multiple terraces that had filled with Caelarians. Bells rang out in steady measures and fabric banners caught the wind and rustled like leaves.

The delegations of both vessels appeared as one flanking Serad. A hush spread through the crowd and faces lifted toward them.

Both Tal’kor and Sh’rol moved ahead of their captains, not as body guards but to shepherd the gathered peoples. Both officers finding a middle ground in their differences on operating procedures.

The people came with questions, simple ones to start. One young child called towards L’rena, “how do the stars taste?” She laughed and called back “like the honour of those who came before.”  Traven smirked at that response while answering questions himself.

There was a sudden disturbance on the third terrace, the officers heard a shout “Contagion!”

They focussed on a young acolyte pointing toward a woman in the crowd. Her cloak darker than others in attendance carrying a satchel, “She is from Orran! They bring doubt and call it reform, keep her from the Spire.”

The crowd reacted as one, backing away from the woman. Some of those gathered shouted insults of their own.

Sh’rol stepped forward, palms outward. “Stand back!” he said, not loudly, but loud enough for those closest to take notice. Tal’kor stepped beside him, not aggressively but enough to make the crowd consider doing anything rash.

Serad arrived, the crowed naturally made way for her without thinking. She took the acolytes hand, “the Radiance does not fear feet from Orran. It has survived emperors and floods and will survive a woman with a satchel.”

The acolyte bowed to Serad and then the woman. She returned the bow, holding the satchel.

Traven glanced at L’rena, she lifted an eyebrow.

“Envoy Jash,” a voice said from behind the group. They turned, almost in unison to see an older man with a seal hanging around his neck. “From Oraan,” he added when she stayed quiet. “we heard you had made the journey, not all of us are fearful.”

Jash smiled toward him and the others. “If you come later to the east market, I have brought others to bath in the Resonance.”

“I will join you also,” Sora said toward them “I will bring questions.”

“And so will I,” a new voice entered, Traven turned to see a woman in robes with her hair bound back. She tilted her head toward Serad, “you sent for me?”

“Cantor Ilene,” Serad said. “May I introduce Captain L’rena of the Klingon Empire and Captain Traven of the United Federation of Planets. L’rena wished to thread a drone through the oldest seams of the underside. You will keep her honest.”

“I will keep her alive…. Honesty may follow” Ilyene said.

L’rena took a liking to her immediately.

Trang held the drone between his thumb and forefinger, preparing it for its adventure into the under terraces.

Ilyene led the officers through a door that most people wouldn’t even noticed. The air around them cooled quickly. Seams looked to be carved into the walls, similar to those seen on the Spire above, each of them glowing faintly.

“We do not bring fire into these areas,” Ilyene said to them. “We instead bring lamps that breathe.”

She raised a lantern, its glow cutting through the darkness in their vicinity. There are a larger seam ahead of them, it glowed more than the others. Ilyene ran her fingers along it.

“It’s older,” she said.

Trang stepped forward and held the drone against the stone. It seeped through the seam as though it was made for it. He picked up his display as the data started to be sent back to him.

The drones tiny cameras seeing things that no one had. There were glyphs on the walls, where there was no way someone could have carved them. The drone shook slightly as a soft pulse of energy rolled through the seam, as if it was greeting its visitor.

Trang studied the data, “this is not a transmitter,” he said after a moment.

“then what?” L’rena asked.

Trang was unsure how to explain what he was reading. “I’m not sure, it seems like its storage. As if it collects the data presented and then repeats it.”

Sora stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm while looking at the data. “If I was to use an analogy; this is a bowl we pour our feelings into, it then resonates and then pours them back.”

Ilyene’s hand rested on the seam, “if this is a bowl,” she said “then we have been drinking out own prayers from it for as long as we have been praying.”

“Maybe, that is not the worse thing.” Sora said back to her calmly.

“unless someone salted it,” L’rena cut in, giving a look to Trang who responded with a shrug.

On board the USS San Clemente the conference room looked like a study room from the crews academy days. Not only PADDs but actual paper was being used to understand and display all the data that the ship had received. It had become a command centre of sorts for the coordination between the two vessels. While limited in numbers, the Captain L’rena had assigned some of her junior crewmembers to support the Mente’s science teams. They were hard at work deciphering anything that Saell and Trang sent there way.

Back in the under terraces T’Lenar stood beside Traven, pointing at three overlaid plats on her PADD. “structure under the spire predates the under terrace masonry and current settlement strata,” she said.

“There is not a marginal difference,” Saell continued “we’ve not got anywhere near a precise date yet, but we’re looking at thousands of years.”

L’rena listened to the Starfleet officer, silently again. Tal’kor was leant against a wall nearby.

“ok, the way I see it we have three options,” Traven said. “1. We can tell the communion that the Spire pre-dates them and may be dangerous. 2. Wait until we have indisputable proof or 3. Tell a limited version of the truth that buys time.”

“We should tell the truth now, Captain,” T’Lenar said.

L’rena stepped forward, “if you crack a faith with no evidence we’ll caused anarchy, they’ll be lighting themselves on fire in the streets and calling it devotion.”

“How about we find something in the middle,” Traven said. “We can present safety guidelines, state an unknown ancient origin, which isn’t a stretch at all.”

T’Lenar and L’rena both nodded while Taven continued, “Captain, if you’re in agreement we can open up our accord. Include the Communion of Light.”

Tal’kor stepped forwards, “what do we say to the communion though, having them involved in research will possibly expose them to theories that are opposed to their…. Religion.”

“We can use an analogies that will translate with their faith.” Sora stated. “we explain that the spire acts as a bowl and will hold whatever we put in it. I believe they will understand.”

The crews of both vessels worked together on developing a proposal for the Caelarians which they would propose to the Communion of Light. Diplomacy was not naturally the strong suit of the Klingon Empire but Traven started to understand why the Empire had sent L’rena to this system. L’rena had also began to trust the Human captain and his Starfleet crew a little more than she expected too, though, still would watch them closely.

They took the proposal to Serad together, meeting in her study. The windows within looked across the city, the crowds that came to meet them before had now dispersed. She listened intently to both the officer’s proposal.

As they finished, she sat quietly for a moment before speaking. “We will accept your proposal,” she said. “on behalf of the Communion of Light we thank you for bringing this information to us. The news that you can scientifically prove Spire is older than out civilisation strengthens our faith.”

As the group left, Ilyene was waiting outside the doors. She grabbed Sora’s sleeve. “The bells will be retuned at sundown,” she said. “they can be heard best in the east cloister. When I was a child I believed it was where the Radiance kept its secrets.”

Sora looked toward her, her dark eyes meeting Ilyene’s silver ones. “I think I understand,” she replied.

As the sun set, the bells indeed returned. Most of the landing party could not hear a difference. T’lenar’s Vulcan hearing meant a variance could be heard but she could not feel it like Sora Venn. She could sense the difference before they’d gotten started.

Saell was sat with Sora in the east cloister, her tricorder on her lap. Trang had returned to the Y’tem and was using the older vessels sensors to monitor the song. “There,” he said outloud to no one as he read the initial data, “it sang back.”

Now the crews has the initial data from the planet they knew what they were looking for. The Spires across the planet were receiving and returning.

Across Varanesh the Caelarians exhaled, almost as one, as if they had all been holding their breath.

Night settled across the city, in orbit, a cluster of barges drifted still with pilgrims on board. Now asleep, close enough to feel one another’s dreams. Three separate family groups awoke at the same time, their knuckles losing their pearlescence and looking almost white. All had seen the same thing in their dreams; faceless overseers moving through the cloisters beneath the spire.

Traven’s final log entry of the night was shorter; We told the truth that we could carry. Tomorrow we may be able to carry more.

L’rena, in the half light of her quarters caught her reflection in the blade in her hand. “Restraint,” she said, “is a blade. Keep it sharp.”