Captain Benjamin Sisko, a svelte African in a neatly pressed Starfleet uniform, gazes across Deep Space Nine station at a battered Enterprise D that is now docked. He shakes his head, and turns to Captain Picard. Rarely flustered, Picard is ever-so-slightly slack in his chair. He drinks quietly from a glass of water. Benjamin's office is an impressive Cardassian-esque motif.

Sisko says, "It's a miracle you were discovered at all."

"Indeed." Picard places the glass carefully on Sisko's lacquered desk.

"Is there nothing you can tell us about your aggressors? We have encountered malevolent forces on the other side, but this is different; active militaristic aggression." Sisko assumes a seat behind the expansive desk just opposite Picard.

"I wish I could. Our sensor logs are nonexistent. The attack and rough ride through the wormhole completely disabled the Enterprise. What I can say is that this opponent is formidable."

"You're lucky Commander Kira happened by for a tow." Benjamin steeples his fingers. His hair is close-cropped and he is clean shaven.

"I don't know what would have happened." Picard's response is utter exasperation. "Benjamin, our weapons were useless. They could beam through our shields. These invaders were merciless." Picard shakes his head. He peers into the distance as the horrors of the past 24 hours sink in. "And now they have Federation technology."

"You mentioned that a single cadet may have saved the ship?"

"Leanna Smith. She has some latent psychic ability. For some reason, it disrupted the enemy so much that they left." He shrugs.

"Interesting."

"What has Dr. Bashir reported?"

"She's in a state of catharsis. Deep catharsis. Physically she's fit, so all indications point toward recovery. Her brain activity…" Benjamin's eyes search for an explanation that is not on the desk. "It is, to be blunt, anomalous and concerning."

"Has he sequenced her DNA?"

"She is half human and part betazoid." Benjamin leans in. "Leanna Smith's records indicate she was raised in an orphanage on Ganymede. There are no records beyond that point." Sisko draws an invisible circle on his desk. "Captain, part of Anna's DNA is not on file."

Captain Picard leans back in his chair, crosses his legs, and says, "How could that be?" His gaze turns toward the window of Captain Sisko's office. He looks out over the gentle slopes of Deep Space Nine and into the field of stars. They twinkle as infinite points of light.

Senior cadet Anna Smith is moved to a recovery ward, tucked away in the bowls of Deep Space Nine. The station, a Cardassian construction, orbits Bajor. It was used as an outpost during the occupation. There are resources here that dwarf most Federation bases like the recovery ward that compliments a comprehensive sickbay. Anna is alone in this dark room among a row of beds. Small windows hang a stunning view of Bajor along a wall.

Wesley Crusher lays a hand on the recovery cuff unit (RCU) that covers Anna's torso up to her naked collar bones; her delicate and perfect collar bones. The machine hums under his touch, but it is cold and whisper quiet. Even unconscious, her natural beauty glows with life and symmetry. You watch as Wes closes his eyes. He takes two quick breaths to clear his mind. He reaches out, but he cannot sense her. Ever since their connection was severed, Wes feels adrift like a ship without mooring.

"Dr. Bashir has indicated a strong probability that she will make a full recovery." Data's voice is appropriately soft. "Although the nature of her injury remains unknown."

Wes turns to find Data standing within arms-reach of him, crisp and pristine. Geordi emerges from a heavy shadow. His lips in a tight line. "How is she?" Geordi asks.

Wesley taps through a menu on the RCU. "Her vitals are stable." He wants Anna's eyes to flutter open. Now would be the perfect time for a miraculous awakening. She sleeps on, locked in a psychic cage. "She's perfectly healthy. Dr. Bashir and Counselor Troi told me that we had a special connection, but I can't feel her like before."

"I have reviewed their analysis on request from the Captain," Data continues. "I have cross-referenced her DNA with every known species in the galaxy without a match."

"Is it true she's part Betazoid?" Geordi scratches his chin.

"Yeah, also part human." Wes turns away from Anna. "Counselor Troi thinks that the unknown part of her amplified her psychic ability somehow. I don't know."

"Hmm," Geordi's gold visor tips toward Anna. "Maybe all of that exertion caused an overload. Like a stressed warp coil. And, you know, she needs to shut down to cool off."

Data nods, "that is possible. There are multiple references to increased brain activity that leads to catatonia; however, it is usually accompanied with some form of trauma."

Wesley's eyes drop to the floor. "Guys, thanks, I—"

"Wes, she'll wake up. It'll just take some time." Geordi steps closer to Wesley. "Tell ya what. I could use some serious help back on the ship. I have a maintenance list a mile long."

Data's face twists in mild confusion. "Geordi, an item list utilizing standard Federation font a mile long would constitute over 64,000 entries. I have reviewed the damage report and it does not appear that serious. I suggest you prioritize and condense your tasks to a more manageable length."

Geordi throws his hands in the air. "Data, it's an expression."

A weak smile gradually turns to a light chuckle. Wes says, "That sounds nice."