Tomaz gasped, struggling against the icy water that threatened to engulf him. The shock of the cleansing had nearly pushed him to the brink of unconsciousness, but as his body was pulled under the surface of the semi-frozen lake, a strange transformation occurred. Instead of succumbing to the pain, a sense of clarity washed over him, as if the biting cold was not just cleansing the crash debris but something deeper within him.

For a moment, Tomaz thought he was drowning. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the sensation of water gave way to air. He surfaced, coughing and sputtering, only to find himself lying on the icy shore of the lake, his body numb but intact. Beside him, Flemen was also gasping for breath, shivering uncontrollably but alive.

Both officers stared at each other in disbelief, the weight of their survival sinking in.

“What the hell just happened?” Tomaz croaked, his voice hoarse from the cold and exhaustion.

Flemen shook his head, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and curiosity. “I think…” His teeth were almost chattering away at the cold. “I think we just survived the cleansing.”

Before they could comprehend any further, the towering forms of the Glaciarians appeared over them, their crystalline bodies shimmering under the dim light of the alien world. The group leader stepped forward, blue eyes gleaming with a cold detachment.

“You have passed the cleansing,” the leader said in its melodic voice, devoid of warmth or emotion. “The impurities of your off-world presence have been purged.”

Tomaz barely registered the words as two Glaciarians lifted him to his feet, his body still weak and trembling from the cold. But something else felt off. He flexed his fingers, expecting pain from his earlier injuries—the burns and the deep bruise in his ribs from the crash—but there was nothing. The pain was gone. His injuries were healed. 

“Craigen,” Tomaz said quietly, his eyes wide in disbelief. “I… I’m fine. I don’t feel any of it anymore.”

Flemen, his breath coming in ragged puffs, glanced at him, brow furrowed. “What do you mean, Tomaz?”

Tomaz pressed his hand to his side, where the pain had been excruciating just hours ago. It was as though the icy waters had done more than cleanse—it had cured him. “The injuries from the crash… they’re gone. Completely.”

Flemen stared at him, shocked, but before he could respond, one of the Glaciarians approached them, carrying their Starfleet uniforms and winter gear in its crystalline arms. Without a word, the alien handed their belongings back to them.

Tomaz took his uniform, still damp from the cleansing but far better than the minimal clothing they had been left in. Flemen, too, quickly pulled on his uniform, their shared sense of relief almost palpable.

“The cleansing heals,” the leader explained in a calm, melodic voice. “It purifies and restores. Your bodies are now free of any foreign ailments.”

As Tomaz pulled his jacket on, the cold began to subside, and he exchanged a glance with Flemen. Whatever the Glaciarian cleansing was, it had not only spared them but had somehow made them whole again.

Flemen, still unsettled, stepped forward. “Thank you… but what now? What happens to us?”

“You will come with us. You will be held in isolation.”

Tomaz’s earlier relief faded into frustration. “So, we’re prisoners?” he questioned, his mind grappling with the implications of their situation.

“Quarantined,” the Glaciarian corrected. “You are not to be allowed contact with our people. It is for their safety, as well as yours. Our culture is isolated for a reason. We do not wish to be tainted by off-world germs or ideologies.”

Before Tomaz could react, he noticed Flemen stepping forward as his diplomatic instincts kicked in. “We understand that. But this wasn’t intentional. Our ship crashed due to a subspace anomaly in this system that overwhelmed our shuttle. We didn’t mean to violate your sacred ground, let alone your planet.” He struggled to find the right words to bridge the gap between their cultures.

The leader regarded Flemen for a long moment as if weighing his words. “You are not the first to crash here.”

Tomaz’s eyes narrowed. He was slightly intrigued by the fact that the Glaciarian leader was being more talkative than before. “What do you mean?” he probed, his curiosity piqued about the history of this mysterious planet and its inhabitants. 

The Glaciarian leader’s blue eyes dimmed slightly, almost as if in reluctance. “Others have come before you. Some survived the cleansing. Others did not.”

Flemen’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Others? How many others?”

“Enough,” the leader replied vaguely. “It has been happening for some time. Visitors crash on our world, drawn by the anomalies. Most are unworthy of survival.”

Flemen exchanged a look with Tomaz before speaking again. Neither of them wanted to know what the Glaciarian meant by the phrase of being unworthy. Tomaz was not about to entertain that question, and he knew Flemen wouldn’t either, not now, especially as their dialogue was starting to reveal more information that could help them get off this planet.

“Do you know what’s causing the anomalies?” Flemen asked. 

Tomaz started formulating a plan and was pleased to see his friend was thinking along the same path. If they could gain the trust of the Glaciarian leader, then their captivity may change, and they may survive this ordeal.  

The leader was silent for a moment, then nodded at Flemen’s question. “It is the power of our Provider. His generator, which sustains our world, is ancient. It has been at the centre of our lives for as long as we can remember. Its energy ripples through subspace and causes gravimetric surges. This disturbance has brought others here against our wishes.”

Tomaz’s mind raced, processing the new information. “If the generator’s causing the anomalies, then maybe we can help. We have experience with subspace technology. If you let us fix it, the crashes could stop. Your people won’t be bothered again, and no others will suffer again.”

The Glaciarian leader seemed taken aback, as though the offer had never crossed his mind. “The generator is a holy place,” he said slowly. “No Glaciarian is permitted to enter. Our Provider left it to us generations ago. He cared for our people and our world. The generator nourishes us and protects us. Our ancestors shared a story about how the Provider vanished. This was long before my time. None of us have ever met the Provider who cared for our world. We are only his keepers.”

Flemen raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never met your Provider? So everything you know is based on what previous generations have shared? How can you be certain that the generator left behind is safe?”

The Glaciarian leader shook his head. “We are not fools. As I said, the Provider left long ago with others of its kind to travel among the stars. Before departing, he entrusted the generator to protect our world from outside interference. It sustains the balance here and keeps us hidden from outsiders. The disturbances have become a recent unintended consequence of its use. We have been forced to endure it as we are not wise enough to fix the problem.”

Flemen glanced at Tomaz, then back at the leader. “But if you never met the Provider, and the generator is so old, then maybe it’s not functioning as it should. That could be causing these crashes.”

The leader’s crystalline form shimmered as though considering the notion. “The generator is sacred. We are not permitted to interfere with its function.”

Flemen’s tone grew more urgent but still respectful. “We’re not asking to disrespect your sacred sites. But if this continues, more ships will crash. More people will die. We can stop it—together.”

“We promise the moment we’ve fixed the generator, we will leave,” Tomaz added. 

The Glaciarian leader’s glowing eyes studied Flemen and Tomaz carefully as though assessing their sincerity. Finally, the leader’s voice softened just slightly. “I will bring your offer to my brethren. We will decide together if the Provider’s will can allow such interference.”

Without another word, the leader turned and left the cell, the door sliding shut behind him with a low hiss.

As the silence settled into the room, Tomaz leaned against the cold wall, exhaling sharply. “Well, that went better than expected?”

Flemen rubbed his arms to warm himself and gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah, but we’re not out of the ice yet. If they decide we’re a threat, this ‘quarantine’ might last much longer than we’d like.”

“Or shorter,” Tomaz said grimly. 

“I think I’d prefer to be cleansed again,” Flemen sarcastically said as he rubbed his hands together to generate some heat. 

Tomaz copied his friend’s action when he considered their options. “If we can help them fix their generator, then maybe we can find a way to get a message to the Odyssey or even the Constitution to come and rescue us if the distress beacon didn’t work.” 

“And if not?” Flemen questioned.

“Then we’ll need to come up with another plan to get ourselves off this rock of ice.”