A day had passed since this One had transmitted the call of the heavens at the High Arbiter’s request and since then, they had monitored the Dark for any signs of the incoming consciousness closing in. So intense was their search of the great void that they had entirely missed the dazzling flashes on the edge of the system. It was only the sudden presence of thousands of new voices that focused this Ones attention in a new direction. Voices in the literal sense, primitive and simple, but there were dozens like theirs, powerful and complex. This One could sense no malice or danger in the minds of these newcomers, only warm intentions.

Guiding this One’s skeletal frame into the High Arbiter’s private chambers, The Seer joined their leader at the Optivis just in time for the hologram to reveal the figure of their potential saviour. Odd looking creatures, from beyond the aperture they sensed, a people who would be seen more frequently in this region of the void from what the One could sense. Follicles from the cranium, different in hue depending on the figure. Tones of colour in the skin seemed to distinguish the different types of One present. Most unique of all was the form of communication they favoured, perhaps due to their underdeveloped brain power. At first, the Seer’s own technology struggled to decipher the language, but when it eventually worked, the sounds were extravagant.

“…the United Federation of Planets. We come seeking answers to questions, and hope to make peaceful first contact.”

Listening to the words of their visitors, the High Arbiter and the Seer felt a growing relief. Answers they would give, if these… Federations… could help them.

Hours had passed since their arrival in the unnamed star system in pursuit of answers to their list of questions. The signal had led them to the fifth of seven planets, the same one that, according to sensors, was home to the most technologically advanced species in the entire system. Planets three and four both had signs of life, but they had already been deemed to be of a pre-warp development stage, but the species on the fifth, whoever they were, were clearly the most advanced. Every scan completed picked up some new technology that they had. So far, however, all their transmissions had seemingly been ignored, much to Noli’s frustration. She’d stopped transmitting custom messages over two hours ago, simply authorising her team to duplicate previous messages and dispatch them on a loop.

There had been one piece of good news in all of that time, though. Morrek had woken from his trauma, seemingly with no ill effects from whatever had transpired to turn him into the vocal piece for whoever lived on this planet.

“Do you remember anything?” Noli asked, casually leant up against the biobed the Syrillian lay upon. She’d been joined by Lieutenant Nes and Doctor Zinn in the hopes they could piece together some information, anything to give the team a head start when dealing with the natives below.

Morrek was of no help, though. He could remember nothing. “It was like I just… fell asleep in the command chair. Next thing I know, I woke up here surrounded by blue shirts,” the mans usual deep tones were muted and less enthusiastic than normal. Confusion was the order of the day, almost refusing to believe what he had been told.

“We could watch the video recording of the incident from the bridge logs,” new suggested, drawing a nod from the Bajoran, but only after Morrek had agreed to it. He, after all, wanted answers as much as anyone.

Moving to one of the side stations, Denen’s massive hands, deceptively gentle, danced across the screen whilst inputting his security clearance and pulling up the data recording. Soon enough, the four officers were living through the trauma once again, only this time Morrek saw what everyone else had described as his body went rigid, his facial features somehow altered while a transdimensional voice transposed over his own as the foreboding statements and please for help filled the silence in the command center. But as they watched, the colour drained from Zinn’s face. He could feel his heart racing, straining beneath his ribcage as if it was fighting to burst free of its boney prison. His breathing grew panicked until the Captain and his colleagues spotted him, reaching out to support him to the biobed behind.

Denen called for one of the chief’s subordinates, but the Commander waved them away at the last. “I’ll… be fine… in a minute,” he advised, applying some well known breathing techniques to try and compose himself.

Watching, the expression of Hypatia’s Mistress soon changed. “That’s not the first time you had an adverse reaction to what happened,” she realised, moving to the paused screen and focusing the image on Zinn, rather than the stricken Shaal. Standing there, rather than helping, the Deltan was frozen to the spot. A different, but albeit equally worrying reaction.

When he felt composed enough, the Deltan took a deep breath and explained. “I’ve seen them before,” he told quietly.

“Them?” the Nausicaan asked, arms folded across his broad chest.

Climbing from the biobed, the bald medic reached for the screen and changed the camera’s focus to the image of Shaal’s face. His complexion completely changed, his eyes removed from their sockets and hollowed out. Disturbing for anyone.

“It was on Ulysses,” the Deltan began, drawing a confused expression from the Captain. They’d served on the Galaxy-class explorer years ago, but she had no recollection of ever encountering such a species. “It was during the Blood Dilithium crisis,” the Deltan recollected, closing his eyes to look away from the creature on the screen. “The telepathic members of the crew had been taken to a Devore internment camp and during our stay, Vittoria had been taken to a lab and tortured by a strange creature.”

Suddenly, the Captain realised exactly what he was talking about. “The creature from the brig…” Noli whispered, falling back against the biobed and using it to steady herself. Ulysses had been captured by the Devore, her non-telepathic crew imprisoned while their captors tried to turn their prize against their enemies. She’d been inured during the efforts to retake the ship with Captain sh’Elas, or at least the changeling they later learnt was posing as sh’Elas, and she’d been in sickbay when the final evacuation of the internment camp had taken place.

“Ulysses evacuated everyone believed to be a prisoner from the camp and fled to friendly space,” his knuckles were white as his hands clasped the side of the biobed and the Deltan continued. “It referred to itself as a Nihari,” he told, “our people evacuated it, not knowing what it had done. It attacked several crewmembers and killed the changeling sh’Elas. Most of us left the ship soon after, too damaged to stay.”

“You’re saying Morrek was somehow transformed into one of these… Nihari?” Denen queried, dropping his hands to his side at the prospect of, potentially, a terrifying, telepathic threat on their new doorstep.

“That’s not at all unsettling…” Shaal scoffed, throwing himself back on the biobed he occupied and rubbing his temples.

“From the visions Vittoria shared with us,” Zinn glared at the image one final time before terminating the screen, “they look incredibly similar.” Rising to his feet, the aging baldster tugged on the hem of his uniform jacket and, for the first time in hours, he felt more like himself. “Captain, if there is any chance the people on that planet below are these Nihari…”

Reaching out, Noli placed a gentle hand on the physicians arm and gave him a reassuring nod. He didn’t need to finish his statement, and she could tell from the expression on Denen’s face that the Nausicaan agreed. “Morrek, if you feel up to it, I need you at the helm,” she asked hopefully.

She didn’t need to hope for the Lieutenant’s support; he was swinging his legs off the edge of the biobed and clambering back to his feet before she even finished her sentence. “Whatever you need Captain,” the pointy-eared creature nodded to his commander.

Grinning, the Bajoran acknowledged the respect from the pilot. Gesturing for her colleagues to join her, the Blonde Bombshell led the exodus from sickbay and headed for the nearest turbo lift. All but Zinn, who remained at his duty station in the medical bay. Reaching out, the Captain tapped her commbadge on her chest. “Noli to bridge,” she called into the open comm channel.

“Prenar here Captain,” the familiar voice of the XO responded instantly.

“Have Serath monitor for any telepathic transmissions and take us to red alert. I want Captain Gor on the line by the time I get to the bridge,” she instructed, disappearing into the turbo lift alongside her subordinates.

Deposited to the bridge mere minutes later, the ship was at a state of battle readiness by the time she reached her command chair, where the Cardassian XO looked concerned at the escalation from their captain. She didn’t have time to clarify her positioning before Orax was stepping in.

“I have Al-Batani for you Captain,” the Denobulan told, turning back to his station and activating the transmission.

Directly ahead of them, the view of the planet below was replaced with the familiar setting of the heavy cruiser’s bridge and the Tellarite’s pig-like features. “Captain…” he grunted, “what’s the situation?”

“Nihari,” Noli blurted out, confusing everyone on her bridge, with the exception of her two trusted department heads who had returned to their station.

On the screen, Gor shifted forward, hands grasped on the chair arms. “You can’t be serious,” his tone lower, and a hell of a lot sterner than before. “That was years ago, in a whole different quadrant…”

“My tactical officer will transfer everything you need to know,” Noli subconsciously echoed her fellow Captain’s stance, “but we need to prepare for the worst.”

Looking offscreen, Al-Batani‘s master called for red alert, the lighting around him shifting in an instant. “If they are who you think,” Gor bared his teeth as he spoke, “then I’ll recall Cardenas and the science teams…

We’ll need all the starships we can muster.”