Banfield stirred, her vision blurred, and her senses dulled as she gradually regained consciousness. The scent of damp soil and the sound of soft wind brushing against trees hit her before her eyes focused. As her vision cleared, she blinked in disbelief. Before her lay the stone courtyard of her family’s old home on Khitomer, a place she hadn’t seen since her youth. Her heart thudded in her chest, both comforted by the familiar surroundings and disturbed by their sudden appearance.

There was no way she had travelled that far. Had she? 

The architecture of the Klingon house loomed large, its dark, imposing stone walls rising like a fortress. The structure was rugged and utilitarian, reflecting the values of Klingon culture—strength, tradition, and endurance. Heavy wooden doors reinforced with iron stood at the front, flanked by torches burning softly despite the daylight. The smell of burning metal and incense drifted through the air. Thick vines crept along the walls, remnants of the colony’s natural reclamation over the years.

Banfield stood and ran her fingers over the weathered stone of the courtyard wall. She knew this place—the path that led to the training grounds, the view of the distant mountains where her mother had taken her hunting. But something was wrong. The silence weighed heavily, and despite the warmth of the sun and the familiarity, there was an eerie stillness.

“Computer, end program,” Banfield whispered, half-expecting this to be some bizarre holodeck simulation. No response. She didn’t believe she was indeed on Khitomer.

Banfield set her jaw and tapped her combadge. “Banfield to away team. Report.”

The combadge chirped to life with static; then a voice broke through. “This is Jisaraa. Captain, you’re not going to believe where we are.”

“I believe it already,” Banfield muttered to herself, making her way through the courtyard, her eyes scanning the environment for signs of life. She rounded the corner to find the rest of her away team emerging from different parts of the courtyard— Jisaraa, Nicus, CJ, Tharmas, and T’Liana. They all looked disoriented but unhurt.

“Captain,” CJ said as he approached, wide-eyed. “This is Khitomer, right?”

Banfield frowned but nodded. “This is a recreation of my family’s estate on Khitomer. But we are certainly not there.”

Tharmas glanced around, his eyes narrowing at the serene yet unsettling environment. “How did we get here? The last thing I remember was approaching the array inside the asteroid. Then a bright white light.”

“None of us have been injured,” Nicus added, putting his medical tricorder away. 

“I don’t think any of us are imagining this,” Banfield said. “It seems we’ve been transported, or… we’re in some sort of artificial recreation. This is too perfect to be real.”

T’Liana, always calm and precise, examined the area with her tricorder. “The captain is correct. This is not a physical location. Readings suggest we are inside a complex simulation, possibly projected by the array we encountered.”

CJ looked toward the grand entrance of the house, its massive wooden doors now standing eerily ajar. “Well, that’s freaky. Is this place haunted, Captain?”

Banfield let out a low, humourless chuckle. “It wasn’t haunted when I lived here, Lieutenant.”

“Reassuring,” CJ muttered.

Banfield stepped forward, her instincts urging her to take control. She gestured to the house. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with. Stay sharp.” She pulled out of her phaser and gripped it tightly.

With the team in tow, Banfield led them into the grand house. Inside, the dimly lit hall was precisely as she remembered it—dark wood floors, heavy tapestries, and the smell of burnt incense lingering in the air. It was a place of her childhood, of her Klingon heritage. The torches on the walls flickered as they moved deeper into the house, casting long shadows. Hanging high from the ceiling was her house’s banner. Various Klingon weapons were also on display. Statues of her ancestors also graised the hallway. 

Then, as they entered further into the main hall, a figure appeared in the doorway. Banfield’s heart skipped a beat as she saw the familiar face of her mother, Lynkarisa—stern, proud, and wearing her Klingon ceremonial robes. She stood tall, as imposing as ever.

“Corella, my daughter,” the figure said, her voice rich and commanding. “You’ve returned home.”

Banfield’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t her mother. Lynkarisa had retired years ago. She was a highly decorated ambassador and general. More than that, Banfield knew when something wasn’t right. She took a step forward, arms crossed. “You’re not her,” she said coldly, locking eyes with the figure. “Whoever or whatever you are, this is a poor attempt to deceive me.”

“Captain, I am not detecting Klingon DNA; I am detecting sporocystian energy,” Nicus declared from his tricorder. 

The Nacene, masquerading as Lynkarisa, tilted its head and smiled. “I meant no deception. I believed this form would put you at ease, captain.”

Banfield laughed, a short, clipped sound. “Ease? You have no idea what would put me at ease.” Her blood flared in her veins, making her bold. “Drop the charade and speak plainly. Why this recreation of my home? What do you want?”

The figure’s form flickered briefly as if it might shift into something else, but it held. “I wanted you to feel comfortable,” it replied. “I have brought you here to explain what is happening here.”

Banfield raised a brow, crossing her arms tightly. “Then stop pretending to be my mother and explain.”

The Nacene hesitated, and then the figure of Lynkarisa began to fade, revealing a taller, more ethereal figure—almost humanoid but now glowing faintly, their features fluid and otherworldly. Its skin shimmered with energy, its eyes large and filled with swirling lights.

“We are one of the Nacene,” it began. “We ventured into this galaxy long ago, seeking knowledge and expansion. But we were reckless. In our exploration, we caused damage—hurt civilisations and destroyed ecosystems. The Veil is one such wound in space.”

Banfield’s thoughts raced—the Caretaker. The parallels were immediate. “So, like the Caretaker,” she said, “you’ve stayed to repair the damage you caused.”

The Nacene nodded. “Indeed. I rebuilt the Veil’s barriers to protect the delicate ecosystems we disrupted. Over time, I realised I could not leave. I sought others to help maintain what we had damaged so I could return home.”

T’Liana, standing beside Banfield, glanced at the Nacene. “And yet, it appears you have failed in that endeavour.”

The Nacene’s expression softened. “Every being that has entered the Veil has been unable to survive. Only you and your crew have endured this long.”

Banfield folded her arms again. “We survived because we sought peaceful contact with the Ilumirians. They’re intelligent, resourceful, and capable of taking on this responsibility.”

The Nacene tilted the head-shape part of its body. “The Ilumirians are young and do not fully understand the complexities of the Veil.”

Banfield stepped closer, her passion for the Ilumirians compelling her forward, unwilling to back down. “They may be young but have the heart and strength to learn. You need to trust them. They are the right ones to take over from you.”

The Nacene stood silent for a long moment, considering her words. Then, with a sudden flicker, the surroundings of Banfield’s childhood home vanished, replaced by the sterile, metallic core of the array. Banfield and her team stood at the heart of its workings, surrounded by the humming of Nacene technology.

With tricorders in their hands, the rest of the away team was trying to determine what was happening.

“Captain, the epsilon radiation has gone,” Jisaraa announced.

The Ilumirian leaders then appeared in a blink, their luminescent forms floating gracefully in the space.

The Nacene spoke again, this time addressing the Ilumirians directly. “We will provide enough power from our reactor to sustain the outer barrier of the Veil for a thousand years. In return, you must vow to protect it.”

The Ilumirians exchanged glances, their glowing forms pulsing in unison. It was clear they were surprised at the sudden change of surroundings and finding themselves before the Nacene and the Triton team, though one look at Banfield and her crew appeared to calm them. After Banfield summarised what was going on and what she had proposed to Nance, the Ilumirian leadership nodded in agreement. 

“We accept this responsibility.”

Satisfied, the Nacene bowed. “Then it is done.”

In the next instant, Banfield and her away team were back on the Triton’s bridge. Before they could catch their breath, CJ’s console lit up with activity. 

“Captain, I’m reading a coherent tetryon beam scanning us,” CJ reported. His tone grew alarmed as he added, “And… I’m detecting a displacement wave heading straight for us!”

Banfield’s instincts flared. “Red alert! All power to shields!”

“Shields are up, captain!” Jisaraa reported.

The Triton shuddered as the displacement wave hit, pushing them violently through space. The Veil disappeared from their view, and they found themselves back in normal space, safe but shaken.

Banfield stood from her chair, exhaling deeply. “CJ, status report.”

CJ looked up, visibly relieved. “We’re back in normal space, Captain. We’re outside the Veil.”

“On screen,” Banfield said as she pulled her uniform jacket down to straighten it. 

Immediately, the viewscreen changed to show what was before them. They were outside the Veil, just as CJ had said and far away from being pulled in again.

“T’Liana, scan the Veil’s barrier. Has it changed in composition in any way?” Banfield asked.

Jen, who had been startled by everyone’s sudden appearance and the quick action that had taken place, quickly calmed himself down as he approached Banfield’s side. “Gut instinct on something, ma’am?” He asked quietly.

She nodded to her first officer while waiting to hear what T’Liana had found.

“Captain, the density of the barrier has significantly increased since our departure from the Veil,” T’Liana reported. “I am not certain anyone would be able to break it.”

“Launch a series of probes to explore the circumference of the Veil. If the entire barrier on all sides appears to be of the same density, then we will move on,” Banfield ordered. She took one more glance back at the Veil and wondered just how well things between the Nacene and the Illumerian were going. 

All well, she hoped.