Commander Mira Novak clutched at the edge of her desk as she tried to steady herself, her mind still reeling from the telepathic communion she had just experienced courtesy of the Talosian standing some twenty meters away from her. Mira’s mind raced to reconcile all that she had experienced in that brief exchange with the Watcher, made all the more difficult by her sudden inability to process how much time had truly elapsed from start to finish.

Novak looked over to her Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Vernon Reid, and posed the question that she hoped would be an anchor for her mind, “How long was I out of it?”

Vernon blinked in confusion, “You were never… out…”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Mira murmured as she looked downward in thought, “I experienced… whole chapters of memory… years at a time… It couldn’t possibly have taken place in an instant.”

“From what I saw, he dipped his head, you sucked in a breath and said you understood something. There was hardly a pause at all,” Reid said, worry creeping onto his face.

Novak looked over to the Watcher, “How is that possible?”

“We do not view time in the same way that you do,” the Watcher remarked calmly, “Seconds and decades are interchangeable in the mind’s eye. It is… taxing… on the body of others to experience time in such a way. That is why you were only shown those memories you needed in order to understand.”

Mira finally allowed herself to sink back into her chair, “I see…”

Vernon moved to Novak’s side, resting a firm hand on her shoulder, “Are you alright, Commander? Do I need to get you to the Infirmary?”

Mira glanced up at the man and shook her head slowly, “No, Mister Reid, I think I can manage. But I appreciate your concern.”

“What did he do? What did he show you that has you so out of it?” Vernon pressed, his face still reflecting his concern.

“It was…” Novak started to speak, but found herself frowning as she realized that nothing she could say would convey with any sort of fidelity what it was that she’d just been through. All of the emotions, not just her own but those of the Watcher, the Keeper, and every other Talosian that had shared in any part of the burst of memories she’d received were entangled in a ball that Mira wasn’t entirely certain she could ever unravel. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she sought to find a way to convey something, anything at all, to articulate the sensation.

“You were right,” Mira turned to the Watcher, “Words really aren’t an effective means of communication when you’re able to do… whatever that was just now.”

The tiniest hint of a smile flickered on the Watcher’s lips as he lowered his head in agreement with what Novak had just said.

“What does that even mean?” Vernon asked with a slight frown, feeling suddenly out of place as Mira and the Watcher seemed to have some bond that didn’t exist mere minutes ago.

Before Novak could reply, the Watcher turned toward Reid, “Your Commander experienced my people’s method of communication. To explain it as best the ancient way is capable of, she was allowed to feel my thoughts and the thoughts of my people as if they were her own. She felt what we felt, saw what we saw, and knew all that we knew in those moments. It has… overwhelmed her sense of self temporarily, but it will subside.”

Vernon narrowed his eyes, “Are you saying you… erased her psyche or something?”

“No, Commander Reid,” the Watcher said flatly, “She was simply overwhelmed by multiple minds overlapping with her own. It can be described as a… euphoric feeling… and that euphoria is part of the reason that my people have declined as much as they have in the millennia since our great war nearly destroyed our people. Living in the memories of the past, in the illusions we are able to conjure, has become a prison where once we thought it to be a paradise.”

“Then is she impaired thanks to this… communication?” Reid pressed the Watcher.

“Perhaps for the moment,” the Watcher remarked, his gaze unflinching, “But unlike the carcinogens your mind drifted to, the effect won’t last more than a few minutes.”

“If anything, my mind feels sharper,” Novak offered, her voice betraying how puzzling the sensation was.

“Others have not said the same,” the Watcher confessed with a slight upward twitch of his brow, “It would seem your mind is more receptive to our thoughts than Humans tend to be.”

“And how would you know that?” Vernon frowned.

It was Mira who answered him with a question of her own, “Do you recall Fleet Captain Pike?”

“Sure,” Reid nodded, “Read a lot about his time on the Enterprise when I was growing up. But what does he have to do with this?”

“Do you happen to remember anything about what happened to him after the accident?” Novak inquired pointedly.

Vernon hesitated for a moment before shaking his head, “I thought I saw something that said he retired and he just… disappeared from the history books.”

“The Talosians took him in after the training incident that left him paralyzed. He lived among them for, I’m assuming, the remainder of his natural life. According to the files we received when we unsealed the redacted archive, his previous encounters with the Talosians of that time is what gave Captain Spock the idea in the first place. That’s just how powerful their illusions are,” Novak explained.

“Both Christopher and Vina lived among us for a great many years. We learned much from them, about your Federation and concepts that we had long forgotten in our isolation from the universe,” the Watcher added.

“Hold on,” Vernon said, raising a hand, “Are you saying that your culture wasn’t under observation because you hadn’t achieved warp flight?”

“Correct,” the Watcher intoned, “My people traveled the stars before your kind developed the concept of civilization. What little remains in our collective memories speak of large swaths of the galaxy falling under our sway. Our golden age came and went long before the war that nearly ended us.”

“Your quarantine of our planet was in response to our… unfortunate first encounter with your Federation. My people at that time believed that your people could be made to be a subservient source of labor to rebuild what we had forgotten how to create. Christopher showed my people the error of that assumption, and his encounter led to our world being declared dangerous. We believe it to be an extreme, though not unwarranted, reaction given our actions at the time,” the Watcher concluded, his voice even and measured despite the gravity of the information he’d just relayed.

“You tried to enslave the Enterprise crew?” Reid’s voice rose, thick with disbelief.

“It was a regrettable choice,” the Watcher admitted, “But it was made in desperation, not out of malice. We had believed that living within the illusionary world we could create for them would counter any negative feelings about their circumstances. Looking back upon the incident, we have accepted that it came from a place of hubris, and we have no intention of repeating the mistakes of our past.”

“I don’t think something like that can be glossed over as nothing more than a mistake…” Vernon retorted dryly.

“It was also one hundred and fifty years ago, by your understanding of the passage of time,” the Watcher remarked bluntly, “Neither of our peoples are who we once were. We have spent that time contemplating how we might approach others with greater sincerity since then. Our acceptance of Spock’s request for aid for his former commander was meant, in part, as an offering of reconciliation. It is not us who chose to forget what happened and lock it away out of fear.”

Reid winced at the accusation in the Watcher’s words. His momentary offense at their actions seemed rather impulsive given the lengths the Talosians had gone to in order to make amends and reflect on the encounter. Even more damning was the fact that the Federation had purposely locked away any mention of them, their encounter, and the aftermath of the events out of fear, though what that fear actually was died with the people who had made those decisions.

“Mister Reid does have a point. The incident that occurred during your initial encounter with the Enterprise was more than a simple mistake from our perspective,” Mira said evenly. “However, your efforts afterwards demand to be weighed fairly against perceived injustice. Granting Captain Pike a chance to experience life outside of the confines of the machine that merely kept him alive, even if it was an illusion, is an act of mercy that should not be swept aside simply because of a badly handled first contact scenario. The Federation has made plenty of mistakes in its time exploring the galaxy, and likely we’ll make many more before we’ve finished exploring all the stars within it. To condemn the Talosians for something we ourselves are not innocent of would be just as arrogant… was just as arrogant, since we did pass judgment on them by erasing their existence from every public record.”

The room descended into a deafening silence as each occupant mulled over the words just spoken aloud. Even Novak, who had been the one to say it all, sank into contemplation over what would happen now. While his methods had initially been less than ideal, the Watcher’s motives seemed far removed from those of his predecessors, if he was indeed not from the same generation as the ones who had encountered Captain Pike a century and a half earlier. Coupled with what she had seen from their communion in her mind, Mira didn’t feel as though his presence would be a dangerous one as long as it was handled correctly. But that line of thinking brought her to the inevitable question…

“Where do we go from here?” Vernon asked the very thing Novak’s mind had just arrived at.

Mira leaned back in her chair, “I’m not entirely sure we can make a decision about this at our level. His people are still technically under quarantine, though that order only covers contact with their planet. Because the Watcher is here, on our station, it muddies the waters quite a bit. I’ll probably have to route this, at the very least, to our regional headquarters… it may even need to go all the way to Starfleet Command. But in the meantime… we can’t exactly treat him like a prisoner.”

Reid couldn’t help but scoff at the notion, “I doubt we’d be able to hold him even if we wanted to.”

“Indeed,” the Watcher responded.

“I would at least like your word that you won’t hide yourself away from my staff while you’re here. I don’t expect you to engage with my crew in any meaningful way, but I would prefer if you didn’t engage in mass hypnosis on my station for the time being. If you would be willing to indulge me,” Novak looked over to the Talosian.

“Would revealing my presence to your crew not pose a moral dilemma? As you stated, my people are still subject to a quarantine by your Federation. Would they not be subject to the penalties outlined in your General Orders should they have any meaningful contact with me?” the Watcher inquired.

“How does he know about the General Orders?” Vernon asked before catching himself, “Oh… right… Captain Pike would have known them, wouldn’t he?”

Mira folded her arms and exhaled slowly, weighing her response, “You bring up a valid concern. I’m not entirely sure how my superiors will react to this… it may be better to limit your engagement with the crew at large.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to even suggest this… but couldn’t he just… look like someone else?” Reid asked, his face looking like he’d just bitten into something unsavory.

“To do so would be counter to Commander Novak’s request,” the Watcher offered.

“Yes and no…” Novak paused for a moment to consider the suggestion a bit more, “Having you appear in a form other than your own is still a form of manipulation, that much is true. But I’d rather that be all it is than to have you be invisible to everyone on the station.”

“With the notable exception of my twins,” Vernon pointed out.

“Ah yes…” Mira nodded, “I had almost forgotten that. Why were they able to see you?”

“I cannot say,” the Watcher responded, “That was the first time I have encountered such a phenomenon. I would be curious to find the answer myself.”

Reid frowned, “Can we hold off on that until after we find out how we’re supposed to handle your presence here?”

“We can,” the Talosian said in a monotone voice.

“Where are you staying while you’re here? Did you arrange for quarters somehow?” Novak asked.

“I have not. I have been roaming the station since my arrival,” the Watcher answered.

“Do you not sleep?” Vernon’s voice reflected his surprise at the information.

“No,” came the flat response, “I do not.”

Reid wasn’t sure what to do with the information now that he had it. He couldn’t imagine being awake throughout his entire life, just thinking about it was exhausting. But that also raised another issue, namely how they would be able to keep tabs on him should they need to find him quickly.

“Would you be willing to carry a communications device with you?” Mira inquired after a short silence.

“That would be acceptable,” the Watcher remarked.

“Mister Reid, if you would issue him a communicator,” Novak requested before returning her attention to the Watcher, “Please assume a human identity before you leave my office. I want Mister Reid to have an idea of what guise you will be wearing so that if he needs to describe you to one of my crew, he can.”

“Very well, Commander,” the Watcher said, closing his eyes and lowering his head. An instant later, his form seemed to blur, and suddenly he was a man of similar height to Commander Reid, though his looks were much more rugged and chiseled. The Talosian-turned-Human spread his arms out away from his sides as if asking for their opinion on his new form.

“That looks fine to me,” Mira said with a nod.

“Looks somewhat familiar…” Vernon muttered as he struggled to place where he’d seen the figure standing before him.

“This form combines traits that are easily noticed should you look for them, but are quick to be forgotten should the observation be casual enough,” the Watcher remarked, his voice sounding much deeper and more expressive than before.

“Got it,” Reid nodded, “Let’s get you that communicator.”

The Watcher gave Novak a curt nod before following Vernon out of her office. Once she was alone, Mira let out a long, tired sigh as she struggled to parse everything that had just happened in such a short span of time. She felt as though it would take a lot longer to sort through everything she was feeling than she actually had the time to spend on doing so. All she could do in that moment was hope that the fallout from his visit wouldn’t throw the station into chaos down the road.