The hum of containment bay three was constant, low, and patient. Within the force field, the fragment had been still for hours, but no one believed it was inert.

Dr. T’Leth Vraik adjusted her visor and leaned over the console. Her movements were careful, every gesture calculated to hide the tension in her shoulders. “Neural resonance stable,” she said quietly. “Pattern consistency within three percent.”

Across from her, Mel folded her arms. “So it’s dreaming the same dream.”

T’Leth looked up, eyes narrowing slightly. “That is… one interpretation.”

Tavik’s voice came over the comm, “Doctor, continue your analysis. Keep the subject isolated. No telepathic interface without authorization.”

“Your medical training exceeds mine in several ways, Doctor Borden,” T’Leth stated, not quite looking at her, “But the Commander prefers caution.”

T’Leth hesitated. “Commander, its neural structure suggests psionic capability. Limited contact may be the only way to determine intent.”

Serala’s tone cut in, firm and dry. “Limited contact often becomes contamination. Maintain boundaries, Doctor.”

Mel stepped forward, glancing between them. “If it’s sentient, we can’t just let it die. You’ve got containment strong enough to hold a warp core, let her try.”

“Your medical training is not in question, Lieutenant,” Tavik said, “your allegiances are.”

Finally, Tavik said, “Doctor Vraik, proceed, but tethered only. If you sense instability, disengage immediately.”

T’Leth inclined her head. “Understood.”

She activated the neural tether. A pale green light trickled across her skin as the containment field attuned to her bio-signature. Her breath slowed; her eyelids fluttered once.

“Beginning telepathic resonance… now.”

Within the fragment, movement began. It was first a slow pulse, then a voice that was not a voice, spoke. We were meant to sleep.

Mel straightened, eyes wide. “Did anyone else…?”

“Confirmed,” Rekan said from the bridge feed. “Signal carried through the EM field. Pattern too consistent for random interference.”

T’Leth’s hands trembled. “It’s aware… frightened. Fragmented. Searching for coherence.”

Serala’s voice crackled through the comm, clipped. “Break contact.”

“Wait,” T’Leth whispered. “There’s more. It dreams of peace.”

Tavik’s answer came slowly and deliberately. “Peace is the Empire’s most dangerous illusion, Doctor.”

Mel exhaled, loudly. “Maybe that’s why you never find it.”

Tavik didn’t respond at first. When he did, his voice was cold. “Peace is not denied, Lieutenant, it is measured. Discipline creates survival.”

“Tether destabilizing,” T’Leth warned. “It’s reaching outward. I feel confusion… loss…”

“Disengage!” Tavik snapped.

She severed the link. The light collapsed, leaving the bay in near-darkness except for the faint pulse within the containment grid. The silence that followed spoke volumes.

Mel folded her arms, “Just say it, you don’t want a Federation Doctor touching your mystery patient,” she shoved a tray table.

Rekan’s voice cut through the comms. “Commander, telemetry shows a data burst before cutoff, transmission vector unknown.”

Tavik turned toward Serala’s station on the bridge. “Mark the coordinates. Quarantine all records.”

Serala hesitated. “If it reached for something… perhaps we should determine what.”

“We will consider nothing until the danger is contained,” Tavik said, his tone ending the discussion.

In the medbay, Mel crouched beside T’Leth, who had slumped against the console, breath shallow. “You’re still here,” Mel said softly, picking up a tricorder. Tavik said no contact with the alien, not the crew.

T’Leth’s eyes unfocused. “I saw storms. A voice repeating its own name, afraid to forget. It called to something, someone. Not Romulan. Not Human. Just sorrow.”

Mel’s voice gentled. “Then maybe it’s not our enemy.”

T’Leth’s reply was quiet, almost mournful. “Sorrow can wear any face. Not all that suffers is innocent.”

Mel stood, glancing at the pulsing light within the containment field. “Still, it reached out. That means it hasn’t given up.”

“Hope,” T’Leth murmured, “is rarely logical.”

Later, on the bridge, Tavik stared at the console for what seemed like hours. “Maintain cloak,” he ordered. “And isolation. No one approaches that thing, until I say otherwise.”

Rekan adjusted his display. “Residual psionic resonance detected, Commander. It’s… syncing with ambient ship systems again, but harmless this time.”

“Harmless,” Tavik repeated, watching the faint pulse drift across his console. “So are most predators before they strike.”

Mel entered quietly and took her post at the liaison station.

Serala looked up. “Commander, the signal burst during the link. The computer has traced it.”

“Maybe it was calling home,” Mel said.

Tavik didn’t correct her. “Plot the coordinates. We follow at safe distance.”

Serala hesitated. “That leads deeper into the Expanse. Beyond mapped space.”

Tavik’s eyes narrowed. “Then the maps will grow.”

In containment bay three, the fragment pulsed once more soft, rhythmic, almost patient. Somewhere in the storm beyond the hull, another pulse answered, faint and distant.