"What really inflames my prangs is this," Pon says to Rashid as they sit at a table near the window overlooking the sea. She swallows a bite of howl-fungus. "The Iconian computer system. I just don't gnarfing understand it and it's pissing me off." She leans forward. "Captain?"

"Hm?" Rashid is staring out at the starlit ocean. "Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking. I… I just don't understand how I survived my suit breaching. I was so sure I was going to die."

Pon waves her hand. "You've seen the kind of technology they have here. Would have been easy for them to beam you out in the nick of time. I wouldn't worry about it. We should focus on the task at hand."

"You're right," she says, massaging her temples. "What were you saying?"

"The Iconian computers. Specifically, how I hate them."

"How so?" Rashid asks.

"Alright, so when I told you I developed a countermeasure to their computer weapon by making a copy of the one that attacked the Enterprise -D, I meant that literally. I actually dug up an old memory cache from the Enterprise in the Icarus archive banks and there was a copy of the Iconian program in there."

"If you don't understand their software, how did you reprogram it? Your countermeasure seemed pretty effective to me." She eats a maki roll.

Pon tears off another slab of fungus with her teeth and chews it. "See, that's just it. The program seemed extremely simple to me. Too simple. It was pretty much just 'attack.' And it would just insert itself into a computer system and start attacking programs more or less at random. Rewriting them."

Rashid sets her chopsticks down and steeples her fingers. "Rewriting them as what?"

"I couldn't even tell you. It gnarfed them up, though. That much I know." The Tellarite throws up her hands. "So it seemed to act at random, in a sort of probabilistic way, and I found that if I altered the parameters a bit – through sheer trial and error, I might add – I got it to prefer to attack copies of itself to our systems, and it basically destroyed itself."

Rashid looks intent. "It's almost like we're only perceiving one aspect of their computer system. As if there are whole dimensions that we aren't able to see."

"And that our systems can't handle. It would have had to simplify itself considerably to invade our computer."

"What surprises me is the probe," Rashid says. "I get that you could disable the invasive program in our network. But you were able to turn it back on the probe and disable it too."

Pon shakes her head. "Honestly, I had no idea whether that was going to work. I was just counting on the probe's software infrastructure acting like most other old, heavily used technology I've ever worked with – it gets temperamental and doesn't respond well to change."

Rashid looks over her shoulder at the empty room. "Our friend Zey-Ar seems to be coping well enough."

"Well, I think Zey-Ar's a little more sophisticated than that attack probe. He'd have to be. He's programmed for high-level interaction with sentient social organisms."

"Do you think that's why the planet's defence systems attacked us on sight, but he didn't?"

"What's the old human saying?" Pon asks. "'When you're a hammer, everything looks like a nail.'"

Rashid smiles. "That's not it exactly, but I see what you're saying. But do you think it's just a sophisticated simulation of social interaction? Or do you think Zey-Ar could be sentient?"

"Is there really a difference?" Pon shrugs. "Besides, anything will become sentient if you leave it on long enough."

"I thought you just said computer systems get temperamental and resistant to change?"

She grins, baring her teeth. "Yes, exactly."

"If he is sentient, we could be looking at a functioning culture on this planet. Icarus might be gone, but we still have our mission to initiate peaceful contact with any civilizations we discover in the Core, and I intend to carry it out." She stands and tugs her uniform down. "And I'd like to take a look around this place for myself. Zey-Ar?"

The soothing tone sounds, and Zey-Ar appears. "Did you enjoy your meal, Zia?"

"Yes, thank you. It was very good, actually. I don't think I've ever been that hungry." She steps toward the entity. "I'd like to see more of this structure. Can you show me?"

"I would be happy to. Please, come with me."

Rashid turns to Pon. She watches with interest as the dishes disintegrate, then stands and follows Zey-Ar and Rashid out the door.

"What can you tell me about where we are?" Rashid asks, walking beside Zey-Ar down a hallway. The walls are white and adorned with screens which show what appears to be paintings moving in time with soft alien music.

"You are aboard 45 Exai, which is one of the finest habitats on Terminus."

"Terminus? Is that the name of this planet?"

Zey-Ar nods. "Yes. Terminus was once a part of the Iconian Empire. When the Empire fell, Terminus became one of the last enclaves of the Iconian people. Because of its location in the Galactic Centre, it was beyond the reach of Iconia's enemies."

"Fascinating. Are there any Iconians living on the planet?"

"As far as I know, there have not been any Iconians alive for over one hundred and twenty five thousand of your years." They reach an open lift in a transparent cylinder. "This way, please."

"What happened to them?" Pon asks, standing next to Rashid in the lift as they begin to ascend.

He pauses for a moment, as if considering the question. "That is difficult to answer. Their population had been in decline for millennia. Eventually it dropped below sustainable levels."

"They died out," Rashid comments.

"I cannot say for certain. But there are no living Iconians known to my network."

The lift emerges from the tube onto a wide terrace that is open to the cool night air. The sky above is densely packed with stars. Coral-like organisms of varying colours and heights divide different sections of the terrace, and evenly spaced around the area are large domes which glow a pale green.

Zey-Ar gestures in front of them, and three chairs appear, made of a featureless white material and hovering above the ground.

He sits, and Rashid and Pon sit next to him. The seats float into the air, and Rashid grips her seat tightly while Pon looks down and grunts.

"Do not be alarmed," Zey-Ar reassures them, "it is quite safe. The seat will not allow you to fall."

Rashid looks down at an illuminated pool surrounded by reclining seats. "It's quite beautiful."

"This habitat belonged to the Sy'ar clan, one of the most influential families on Terminus. Versions of me cared for them for hundreds of generations."

"Versions of you? What do you mean?"

They drift over what appears to be a sports field, with semi-transparent lines visible at regular intervals around the field, floating approximately a meter above the moss-covered ground. Zey-Ar says, "I am a Nal Th-Zan companion program, generated based on your cognitive data by the 45 Exai central computer. There have been many other such programs generated over the millennia for members of the Sy'ar clan."

"And those programs were also you?"

"In some senses, yes. I possess their memories. But because my behavioural subroutines are different, I will respond differently to stimuli than they did."

"That's really interesting."

Zey-Ar lands on the mossy turf next to one of the domes, and Rashid and Pon follow. "Come with me."

He steps through the pale green barrier. The officers follow suit, passing through the barrier as if it was not there. Then they are inside the Icarus crew lounge, with a tub of mud projected in the centre of the room. The stench of the mud fills the air.

Rashid runs her hand on the surface of a table as Pon opens her tricorder. "Is this matter projector technology?" the captain asks.

"There is some similarity in principle," Zey-Ar explains. "In this chamber, the environment can be controlled telepathically. Because you are unaccustomed to our technology, it would be dangerous for you to use it. So I have created an environment which I thought would be comforting to both of you."

Pon dips her hand in the mud, then puts her hand to her face and sniffs. "I don't like it."

Zey-Ar regards her curiously. "It was created based on your cognitive patterns. Your sensory response is identical to your previous experiences of the mud."

"Doesn't matter. It's not Gargva Valley mud."

"Zey-Ar," Rashid says, "can you recreate any of Icarus' equipment? Sensors, transporters?"

"I'm sorry, Zia. Access to the designs for functioning equipment of that type requires Currency."

"Currency? You use money?" Pon asks, incredulous.

"Yes. All equipment purchases require Currency of fifteen million or more. Unfortunately, you have zero Currency."

Pon rolls her eyes. "Don't you realize what an inefficient means that is for organizing your society? Here I thought the Iconians were an advanced civilization, and yet you hang on to primitive ideas like money."

"Currency has been used in the Iconian Empire for hundreds of thousands of years," Zey-Ar replies, his face neutral.

"Yeah, well maybe that's why –"

"Zey-Ar," Rashid interrupts her, "We need to try to contact our crew. They may be in danger. Is there anything you can do to help us?"

He looks straight ahead for a moment, then turns back to her. "There is no record on any of any other arrivals from offworld. However, it is possible that they were intercepted by military technology. I cannot access military networks."

She strokes her chin. "Is there any way we can earn some Currency?"

"Yeah, maybe we can find some shiny rocks or something," Pon mutters.

"Currency would be provided to you if you were Iconian," he says. "Currency can only be provided to aliens by Iconians."

"And all the Iconians are dead," Pon says, "while their money is sitting around in the money… place…"

"The bank," Rashid interjects.

"…in the bank, rendering completely inaccessible the technology we could use to easily solve our problems. Capitalism!"

"This is the way our systems have been designed," Zey-Ar replies, shrugging his broad shoulders. "It is not within my power to change."

Rashid looks around. "What about this place? You allowed us here, and gave us food and medical care. Doesn't that cost anything?"

He stares at her for several seconds. "I am a companion. My function is to care for organics. Ordinarily there would be a fee, but I have chosen to waive it."

She narrows her eyes. "Why?"

He looks through a porthole at the simulated starscape outside the Icarus lounge. "Because I wish to fulfill my function once again. The Iconians died under the care of the companions. We failed them. I failed them." He looks into her eyes. "But I will not fail you, Zia."

In a featureless white cylindrical chamber with no exits, Rylek sits in meditation. His hair is ruffled and his skin is pale, and he is clad in a jumpsuit which is an unpleasant shade of beige.

He opens his eyes as the room begins to hum. Then there is a flash, and Avala appears in mid-air and is thrown to the floor. She is wearing the same style of jumpsuit as Rylek, and there is anger in her eyes.

"Ai p'thiir krythilia t'aar!" she shouts in Andorian, shaking her fist at the air where she emerged. "Th'a'iik! P'uila th'tanii!"

Rylek's green eyes widen. "Vanda! T'ish komaht val."

"Ugh. Those th'pal'aii even took our translators," Avala says, switching languages. "Hope your Federation Standard isn't too rusty."

"All Vulcans are taught to be fully bilingual from a young age. I am fluent." He hesitates. "Mostly."

She sits up and smiles. "Your accent is so cute."

"Vanda, what are you doing here? Did the Iconian drones capture you as well?"

She wraps her arms around her knees and leans her back against a wall, facing him. "Yeah. Well, actually, I came after you. Through the portal. There were a bunch of those orbs on the other side. I guess they stunned me, because the next thing I remember is being in this chamber a lot like this one. Being… processed. They took my equipment, my uniform…" She winces. "And they probed my mind. It was awful. It felt like hours."

Rylek nods. "I had a similar experience. It was most unsettling."

She holds her forehead in her palm, and her antennae droop. "Isaiah is going to kill me. I disobeyed a direct order not to go after you."

"Although I appreciate your intent, the commander was right. Attempting to rescue me on your own was highly illogical."

She glares at him. "You think I don't know that? I don't need you to lecture me, ensign."

Rylek's eyes widen. "I meant no offense. I was merely observing that –"

"Why don't you keep your observations to yourself," she snaps. "I made a bad call. I screwed up. Now we're here. And we have to figure out what our next move is going to be."

"Yes, lieutenant," Rylek says quietly.

They sit in silence for several minutes. Then Avala begins to examine the wall, her antennae close to the smooth surface.

In a low voice, Rylek says, "I did not discover any sign of a point of egress."

She looks over her shoulder at him, then scans the cylindrical cell. "There's got to be a door or something."

He stares at her and swallows. "They… they have the gateways. They do not need doors."

She scowls. "Well, what else would you suggest…" The pauses, glancing around at the featureless white walls enclosing them. Then she shrugs and sits back down, wrapping her arms around her legs.

Rylek sits across from her, clutching his knees tightly, his face pale. He lists to one side, breathing heavily. Then, shuddering, he slumps over.

"Rylek!" Avala rushes to his side.

"I…" he gasps. "I believe I am having a panic attack…"

"Here," she says, helping him lie on his back, "come on, it's going to be alright. We're going to get out of here. Don't you have Vulcan breathing techniques or something?"

"It… it is happening again… Like the Crazy Horse…"

She takes his hands. "The Crazy Horse? What are you talking about?"

He looks into her eyes, struggling to control his breathing. "It… it was Susan. It is her memory. She was on a survey mission near the Core… her ship was attacked by Romulans…" He swallows. "I was taken hostage…"

"Rylek, it's okay." She puts his head in her lap and brushes his hair into place. "That wasn't your memory. There are no Romulans here. In fact, I don't know if there's anybody. I don't know about you, but everything I encountered was automated."

His breathing slows. "You believe that the Iconians are extinct, despite all the functional technology we have encountered?"

"Well, why not? I've read about ghost worlds; they're not actually that uncommon. It's just that they're usually picked pretty clean by scavengers before we get to them."

Rylek turns his eyes downward. "Then it may be illogical to expect we will be released."

"No, no, no," she says softly. "Isaiah's still looking for us. And Captain Rashid. They won't leave without us."

"I do hope so."

She strokes his head. "So did the mind meld give Susan all of your memories too?"

"Some," he says weakly. "To what extent, I am not certain."

"Do you think she remembers the time we went to Risa on spring break? The night we all went skinny-dipping in the Pearl Atoll?"

He looks up at her. "Perhaps."

"You wouldn't take your clothes off." She strokes his head. "But you did the other day in Pon's mud. I'm proud of you. You're becoming more comfortable around people."

"I appreciate that. The captain has been encouraging me to be more social. She has taken a more active role in mentoring me since her temporal displacement." He relaxes slightly.

"Yeah, she really seems like she's been glad to be around us lately. We were supposed to get together next time we were both off duty. She wanted to smoke this Terran herb and listen to music."

There is a loud klaxon. Avala's antennae stand on end and Rylek bolts upright as a deep voice begins speaking loudly in an alien language.

"What are you saying?" Avala demands, climbing to her feet. "We can't understand you! Give us back our translators!"

The voice delivers a short reply. A shimmering plane appears in the air and passes through both of them.

Suddenly they are in a different place, on the side of a well-maintained roadway between impossibly tall, domed buildings. They are smooth and white, and have no windows. The road is a smooth grey material interspersed with well-trimmed fungi and coral-like organisms, and they stretch as far as the eye can see in both directions, pleasant but featureless, intersected by other roads in a neat grid. The sun is shining brightly, and it is completely silent.

Rylek stands. "Our situation has improved."

A blue orb shimmers into existence and begins speaking loudly at them. Avala steps toward it. "I already told you – we don't understand what you're saying!" She over-enunciates her words. "Give us back our translators!"

The orb hovers a few meters above them, saying nothing. Avala shrugs, frustrated. "Come on," she says to Rylek, "let's see if we can find a replicator or something. I'm thirsty."

She takes a step, and is met by a cluster of soft chiming sounds. Several translucent alien figures in bright, garish neon colours appear in the air before them down the road. They are pale, with dark, almond-like eyes and tentacles tied behind their heads. Some of them are drinking liquids from cups and gesturing in different directions, speaking soundlessly as angular alien symbols scroll vertically beside them. A few are naked and wrapped around each other, thrusting forcefully, their tentacles entwined.

Avala regards the projections warily. A pair of copulating aliens stop and turn to her, one retracting a long, dark blue tongue from down the other's throat. The one with the tongue takes a drink from a black cylinder, and the other points down one of the roads.

"What do you make of this?" Rylek asks, visibly uncomfortable.

"I think we're looking at an advertisement," she replies, cautiously walking forward.

"An advertisement?"

"Yeah. Don't they have ads on Vulcan?"

"They do," he says, following close behind her. "But they rely on logical persuasion."

"These ones really catch the eye, though, don't they?" She turns around, then scowls as she sees the sphere floating behind them. "What do you want?" she snaps at it.

The sphere says nothing. She glances back at Rylek, then shrugs. "Well, anyway, let's go."

As they walk, Rylek looks down the long, straight avenues they pass, then cranes his neck at the buildings. "None of these structures have doors or windows."

"No need for them, I guess," Avala says as they round the corner. More alien holograms appear before them, drinking fluids and gesturing, some copulating in pairs or groups of three. In the distance, there is a space between the buildings where dark green vegetation can be seen.

"I wonder if that's a park," she muses as she follows the gesture of one of the holograms to the side of a building. The flat white wall glows yellow, and a shelf appears holding approximately a dozen cylinders of different colours.

She steps toward it, and holographic symbols materialize before her. She steps backwards, to Rylek's side.

"What do you think that is?" she asks.

"I am not certain."

She reaches for one of the cylinders. Her hand makes contact with a forcefield, and she pulls it back quickly. "Ow! A'vai'iil!"

The sphere says something to her, seemingly angrily. "Screw you," she snaps back.

"Are you alright, Vanda?" Rylek asks.

"Yeah." She shakes her numb hand. "But why would they tell me to come here and then not let me have one?"

"Perhaps the symbol was the cost?"

"Well, that's stupid. Why would they advertise something that costs money?" She glares at the cylinders. "Let's go to that park. Maybe there's some water there. Are you thirsty?"

They walk together towards the green foliage. "I will not require water for several weeks," he replies. "Vulcan physiology is highly retentive of water."

"Hang on." She steps close to him as they walk side by side, and asks in a conspiratorial whisper, "Do you not piss?"

Rylek hesitates. "Vulcans only urinate once or twice a year."

She puts a hand on his shoulder, an expression of joy on her face. "How did I not know this?"

He raises an eyebrow. "It has never been relevant to conversation."

They reach the edge of a large park, thick with mossy green shapes. A waterfall can be heard within the greenery.

"Alright, well let's try –" Avala begins, reaching her hand forward and colliding with another forcefield. "Ah! What the shit!"

"Ch-Thanoth Aikonai!" the sphere barks. Avala lets loose a tirade of Andorian profanity at it, and it drifts higher into the air away from her.

"It appears that our access to this city is severely limited," Rylek observes.

"Yeah, I noticed," Avala says, trying to restore feeling to her hand. "And unlike you, I'm going to need to get some water within the next day or two. I don't want to die on this p'thaii planet."

"Perhaps we should continue to explore our surroundings. We may be able to find somewhere more… hospitable." There are more holographic aliens around them now, gesturing and writhing in alien coital configurations.

"Yeah. And I'd really like to try to contact Isaiah." She looks down three roadways, each identical to the others. "Any ideas on which way to go?"

"None."

"Well, let's just keep going, I guess." She continues past the park, Rylek close behind, with the sphere floating at a distance.

Her antennae point to Rylek. "I'm glad you're here."

"And I you, Vanda."

They continue, surrounded by featureless buildings once again, down the well-kept city road stretching into the silent, hazy distance.