It started with a ping.
A subtle vibration through the sensor grid. Not enough to raise alerts. Not enough to make any system flag it as a priority. But Anthony had been watching.
He and Thalia sat in the ship's quiet astrometrics lab — the one used for long-range gravitational mapping and navigational extrapolations. Technically, they were off-duty. Practically, they were chasing a ghost.
"The spike is faint," Anthony muttered, tapping through layers of data overlays. "Barely outside background radiation."
"But it's real," Thalia said, voice low. Her neural filaments pulsed an uneasy teal. "And it's in the same quadrant we sensed before."
They both stared at the curved display — a spectral wash of starfield telemetry dotted with minor anomalies and sensor noise. Amid the clutter was one slowly pulsing ring.
Anthony leaned closer. "Whatever's out there... it's not emitting traditional signals. But it's pressing against subspace — like it's breathing through the fabric."
Thalia didn't respond. Her hand hovered over the edge of the panel, then slowly curled into a fist.
Anthony turned. "What is it?"
She hesitated. Then exhaled.
"My emotional regulation is off. The bond... the baby... now this. It's hard to know what's me and what's bleed-over."
He reached out and placed his hand on hers. "We take it one step at a time. We don't have to solve everything tonight."
But she was already slipping her hand from his, turning toward the door.
"I need air. I'll meet you back in quarters."
She left without waiting for his response. Her neural filaments were twitching erratically.
---
Doctor Prell stared at the scan results. Again.
He flicked through three sequential readings taken over the last ten days. At first glance, they looked like typical neurochemical responses for a narian in late-first-trimester gestation. But one element didn't match — a cascading variation in neuro-electric harmonics.
It wasn't dangerous. Yet. But it wasn't normal either.
He tapped his console, opening a private comm.
"Prell to Captain Renara."
A pause. Then: "Go ahead."
"I'd like five minutes. Privately."
---
The captain's office was silent, the lights dimmed to standard command level. Prell stepped inside, his antennae twitching slightly as the door hissed shut behind him.
"She's hiding something," he said without preamble.
Renara raised one brow. "That's not a small accusation."
"I'm not accusing her of misconduct. But Thalia's neural harmonics are fluctuating beyond standard pregnancy profiles. Either the bond is evolving again... or something else is influencing her."
Renara leaned back. "I've noticed inconsistencies too. Subtle ones. She and Commander Lawrence have been holding side conversations. Adjusting their schedules. Requesting access to secondary systems."
"You think it's related?"
"I think they know something they're not sharing."
Prell crossed his arms. "Do we press them?"
"Not yet," Renara replied. "They've earned some latitude. But log everything. If it escalates — we bring in oversight."
The Andorian nodded. "Understood."
---
Anthony arrived back at their quarters and found Thalia sitting cross-legged near the viewport, her neural filaments drifting softly in low light. A half-eaten tray of narian citrus cubes rested beside her.
"You okay?" he asked, sitting beside her.
"Not really," she replied.
He waited.
"I thought I was ready for this," she said. "For the baby. The bond. Even for whatever's out there. But every time I think I've got my footing, something shifts."
He didn't reach for her this time. He just sat with her.
"I couldn't focus during the scan," she admitted. "The moment we aligned — I felt it again. Like it knew we were looking."
Anthony swallowed hard. "I felt it too. Like pressure behind the eyes."
They sat in silence for several heartbeats.
"Can we track it?" she asked finally.
"Maybe. If we piggyback the harmonics off our bond signal and redirect through the subspace field logs."
Thalia looked at him. "That's... terrifyingly clever."
"I learned from the best."
She smiled faintly. Then it faded.
"We need to be careful. Prell's watching me more closely. And Renara... she's too smart not to notice we're up to something."
"I know."
They sat together in the quiet glow of the stars.
"I don't want to lie to them," she said softly.
"You're not. We're just... waiting until we understand what we're dealing with."
Her fingers found his. "Just promise me something."
"Anything."
"If this thing pushes harder... we don't go alone."
Anthony nodded. "We won't."
Her neural filaments touched him gently — a reaffirmation of unity in the deepening dark.
And somewhere far beyond the Asteria, something shifted again. Not louder. Just closer.