The Thunderchild broke from warp with a flash of blue light into the Sanelar system, her impulse engines engaging as they approached the colony world of Free Haven.

Captain Rynar Jast stood just in front of his command chair on the bridge, arms behind his back, eyes fixed on the viewscreen. As they entered orbit, the colony filled the frame… broad plains, forest ridges, patchwork agricultural zones. From here, the world looked serene… intact… peaceful.

Jast knew better than to trust what peace looked like from a hundred kilometers away.

“Scan for energy signatures,” he said. “Anything residual.”

“Aye, Captain,” T’Rell replied from her station at Operations.

The Vulcan-Klingon hybrid worked swiftly, eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. “Thermal mapping shows residual transporter activity across three separate locations. Central Free Haven, and two outlying communes to the north and east. Power infrastructure remains offline across all sectors. I’m also detecting a small debris field in orbit, likely once a weather monitoring satellite.”

“No orbital defenses activated,” added Lieutenant Commander Vok from Tactical. “From orbit, there’s no sign they even put up a fight.”

Jast nodded once. “Because they didn’t. Whoever did this moved quickly.”

T’Rell turned slightly towards the center of the bridge. “No vessels detected within system range. However, I am detecting a residual warp trail… fragmented. The readings suggest older Confederacy patterns, but I cannot give a definitive origin at this time.”

Commander Zuri Velar remained seated at her station to the left of Jast, reviewing readings on her console, her brow furrowed. “So, they came in fast, hit three settlements, and were gone before any help could make it here.”

Jast turned to face his first officer. “Timing was deliberate. Someone planned this out, knowing a response wouldn’t make it here in time.”

He glanced over to Tactical. “Commander Vok, status on defense installations?”

“Standard colonial grade perimeter,” the Ktarian replied, his deep voice tinged with a slight rasp. He stood straight-backed, his ridged forehead ending in several small spiked horns. He had a stern appearance, but his tone always remained calm, measured… as if he weighed his words before speaking. “Nothing more than warning satellites and a single suborbital sensor array. All dark. They weren’t equipped to repel a raid, just report one.”

Jast exhaled slowly. “They didn’t come for a fight, just to make sure no one could stop them from getting whatever it was they wanted. T’Rell, the colonists?”

“I’m reading approximately one thousand one hundred and twelve lifesigns around the main settlement, plus several hundred in scattered groups in the outlying communes.” T”Rell relied. “Structures remain intact, some minor damage. No signs of lingering hazardous conditions, Sir.”

Jast tapped his combadge. “Jast to transporter room one. Ensign Thrixan, prepare to begin staging away teams to the surface.” Turning back to his first officer, “Commander Velar, you’re on the ground. Assemble medical and relief teams. Have Lieutenant Zh’vhoral deploy security teams.”

He tapped his combadge again. “Jast to Dr. T’Koran. You’ll deploy with the away team; Commander Velar has command groundside.”

The reply came a moment later… measured and calm.

“Understood, Captain. I am on my way to the transporter room now.”

The turbolift doors closed behind Velar as she left the bridge. Jast sat back into his command chair, hands resting on the armrests. The viewscreen showed Free Haven hanging below them… bright, beautiful, and still.

They always looked peaceful from orbit.

________________________________

The moment her boots touched down, Velar’s tricorder was already in motion.

The transporter beam faded behind her, leaving her, Dr. T’Koran, and the rest of the away team in the center of what appeared to be a communal square. Weathered stone benches lined the perimeter. A decorative fountain stood half drained, its base blackened by a scorch mark. A faint breeze stirred dust and ash through the air, catching on toppled carts and abandoned belongings.

T’Koran moved beside her without a word, already unfolding a compact medical scanner from his field kit. The Vulcan physician was lean and austere, his movements deliberate, almost economical. At ninety-six years old, his bearing reflected both age and discipline, his posture straight, his sharp features untouched by indulgence. His skin held a faint olive cast common to desert-born Vulcans, his dark hair, in a short classic Vulcan style, was threaded with steel-gray streaks at his temples. Velar had served with him long enough to know he rarely spoke unless necessary, but when he did, it was with precision and clarity. She found it comforting.

She scanned the area in a wide arc. “No current weapons signatures,” she said softly to the team. “Lifesigns match reported colony numbers. Mild elevated bio-readings in several clusters… likely stress and mild trauma.”

Her tricorder pinged, and she looked down at the readings more intently.

“Looks like lifesign density is strongest due east, maybe a communal building.”

T’Koran tilted his scanner slightly. “Atmospheric composition stable. No signs of toxins, radiation, or biological contamination. I detect increased cortisol levels in forty-two individuals. Consistent with acute stress response.”

Velar nodded. “Let’s get eyes on them. Follow my lead.”

The team approached the eastern structure, a low, wide building with angled solar eaves and a partially open main entrance. There didn’t appear to be any damage or scorch marks on the outer walls… a good sign. As Velar approached the threshold, a small sound caught her ear. Movement, just inside.

Velar raised a hand to the others, signaling them to stay back. She took one step forward.

A woman emerged from the shadows beyond the doorway… mid-fifties, Human, hair tied back with a soiled cloth band. Her face was streaked with dirt, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Behind her, dim shapes moved… others, seated or sprawled out on blankets, barely speaking.

“You’re Starfleet?” the woman asked, voice cracking with relief.

“I’m Commander Zuri Velar of the USS Thunderchild,” Velar replied. This is Dr. T’Koran. We received your distress call. We’re here to help.”

The woman swayed slightly, then steadied herself with a breath. “We weren’t sure anyone would come. Everything went dark. The comms… the lights…”

“It’s okay, you’re signal got through,” Velar said gently. “We’ve already secured orbit. You’re all safe now.”

Dr. T’Koran stepped past them and started scanning the interior, walking with quiet, purposeful strides around the huddled survivors.

“Thirteen individuals are showing signs of dehydration,” he reported calmly. “Five have minor contusions and fractures. One with a concussion and risk of intracranial swelling. I recommend my team get to work, Commander.”

Velar simply gave him a small nod, and he signaled the Thunderchild for additional supplies and medical personnel.

T’Koran offered the barest nod of acknowledgment as Dr. Park moved to assist the young Bajoran man with the worst injuries. He then moved to kneel beside a young Vulcan girl with a swollen ankle. He spoke to her in low, measured Vulcan, setting the medical kit beside him with practiced ease.

Velar turned her attention back to the human woman who had greeted them at the door. The woman had stepped aside to make room for the medical teams but lingered nearby, watching with equal parts relief and weariness.

“What happened?” Velar asked gently. “Who attacked you?”

The woman took a breath and nodded, though her expression remained distant.

“It started just after dusk. The lights cut out… everywhere, not just the plaza. All at once. We thought it was a relay failure at first, but then the relay crews never reported in.”

She rubbed her hands together slowly. “We were just sitting down to eat. Then there was this noise, this pitch… high, mechanical. I don’t know. Then they appeared. I didn’t see much. Just shapes. And green light.”

She shook her head. “No warning. No message. Just panic. Screaming. Then it was over. Like someone flipping a switch.”

Velar’s brows knit slightly. “Casualties?”

The woman nodded slowly. “A few. One man near the market tried to stand his ground… he was shot. A couple of others were caught in the panic, maybe injured running. But it wasn’t like a slaughter. That’s what’s strange.”

Velar kept her gaze steady. “Then what was it?”

“They were… looking for people.” The woman’s voice dropped, her eyes distant now. “They had these devices… flat, glowing things. Scanned us. Tagged a few. They vanished right after that.”

Velar’s breath caught. “Vanished? As in transported?”

The woman nodded. “Not all at once. Just… when someone got hit with one of those darts. They shimmered and disappeared. I saw it happen right in front of me.”

Velar straightened. “How many were taken?”

“I don’t know exactly. Maybe a dozen, maybe more. Some from here, some from the other settlements.” She hesitated. “My brother was one of them. Jiran… he was just helping people get under cover. Then he was gone.”

Velar’s expression remained calm, but her eyes hardened.

“Do you have a list? Names? Physical descriptions?”

The woman shook her head. “We haven’t even had power. We’ve barely been able to gather the wounded. Some people ran off into the hills during the attack, we’re still waiting on them to come back.”

Velar reached into her field pack and pulled out a standard-issue data slate. “Start recording names. Anyone you know is missing, and anyone you think might be. If someone returns, update it.”

The woman took it with shaking hands.

She tapped her combadge. “Velar to Captain Jast. We’ve confirmed reports of abductions. At least nine were taken from this settlement, possibly more from the others. No pattern yet, but survivors describe being scanned and targeted.”

Jast’s voice came back after a short pause. “Acknowledged. Secure what you can. I want a full manifest of the missing.”

Velar lowered the badge and looked back toward the frightened cluster of survivors. She felt a cold weight settle at the base of her spine.

This wasn’t a raid.

It was a harvest.