The silence in the expansive office dedicated to Starbase 11’s commanding officer was both deafening and haunting. Commander Mira Novak stared into the eyes of the being that she had only just realized had been standing silently behind her Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Vernon Reid, during the entire conversation they had conducted regarding… him… and his appearance before Reid’s twin daughters the day prior. The words that he had spoken hung in the air, reverberating darkly in her mind.

“I have been here for quite some time.”

Never has a simple admission, a passive declaration of existence, chilled Mira quite as much as when it had issued forth from the… Novak’s mind halted when she realized she hadn’t actually seen the being speak, merely heard the words echoing through the room… through her mind… Her eyes widened in a mixture of realization and unease as it became more obvious that the person who was standing rather passively in her office could enter her mind as easily as she might enter a room on the station.

Reid shot to his feet, retreating to the side of Mira’s desk in guarded alarm, his fists curled and his center of gravity low as he struggled to decide how best to respond to the intrusion. Or even if he had the ability to do so given the being that stood before him. His conflicting emotions rippled over his face as he studied the being, his heart thundering in his chest and ears.

‘I mean you no harm, Commander Reid,’ the same voice that had announced his presence echoed in Vernon’s mind. He glanced briefly to Novak, but she didn’t respond to the words in any visible way, causing him to wonder if he’d actual heard it.

“I mean you no harm, Commander Reid,” the being spoke aloud this time, which caused Vernon to straighten a bit at the finality laced within the words.

Mira rose to her feet slowly, never letting her gaze so much as flicker away from the being as she did. She tried to assume as neutral a posture as she could muster despite how unnerving his sudden introduction was and attempted a dialogue despite the unnerving nature of his sudden introduction, and forced herself to speak… even as hundreds of questions clamored for control of her tongue.

“I am Comman…” was all she managed to get out before the being’s eyes shifted from Vernon’s to Mira’s.

“Commander Novak. I am aware of who you are,” the alien man said with a measured tone that held no discernable emotion.

Mira’s neutral expression slipped for just a moment, a frown pulling the corners of her mouth before she managed to pull them back taut, “May I ask your name?”

“My people no longer possess them,” came the same dry response.

“Then what do I call you?” Novak asked with an edge of impatience reflected in her tone.

The being stared at her… into her… for several heartbeats, though Mira couldn’t be sure if that was because he was considering the question or digging into her mind. The ensuing silence that passed between them felt every bit as calculating as when she had leveraged it against Governor Wakefield during her visit. Having the tables turned on her put Mira even more on edge, her fingers slowly curling into fists as the being before her allowed the silence to sit.

Finally, the man spoke again, “I have come to observe… to experience… to know. You may refer to me as the Watcher, should an epithet be truly necessary.”

“Then is the Keeper…?” Novak began to ask, recalling that title from the briefing she’d recently read.

“The Keeper remains with my people. Only I have come,” the Watcher responded curtly, again predicting the question before it was asked.

“Why have you come?” Mira managed to ask in full.

“I have already told you. To observe… to experience… to know,” the Watcher repeated in his dispassionate voice.

“Was scaring my daughters half to death part of the plan as well?” Vernon interjected, his anger tangible.

The Watcher turned his gaze back to Reid, “Their fear was of their own making. Their observation of my movements was unintentional, and my reaction to it was not meant as a threat to your offspring. My retreat from their presence was meant to assuage the fears that the one called Eleanor clung to that I might mean to harm them.”

“You saw inside her mind?” Vernon asked with a deepening frown.

“I experience thoughts as you experience rays of light, Commander Reid,” the Watcher explained as though it were self-evident. “You have experienced other species invading your thoughts on numerous occasions… Why is this occasion causing you such distress?”

Vernon flexed his jaw as he readied himself to retort, but found that the words he thought to use were stuck in his throat. The question the Watcher had asked had initially provoked a flare of anger, and only when he considered it through a more rational lens did he realize it hadn’t been righteous anger but simple indignation.

“We are not accustomed to having our thoughts read in such an open manner,” Mira stepped into the conversation once more, “I can’t fault you for engaging in an activity that is as much a part of who you are as sight is to us, but I hope you understand that our unfamiliarity with it breeds discomfort.”

The Watcher’s eyes returned to Mira, and silence once again spread throughout the room. This time, however, Novak didn’t feel as if she were being dissected by his gaze. That eased a bit of the tension that she had been unconsciously holding in her shoulders.

“Conversing in the ancient way is… inefficient at expressing nuance,” the Watcher finally said in something akin to an admission of cultural misunderstanding.

Mira caught Reid’s body straighten up after the Watcher made his statement, which seemed to reflect her own de-escalation of caution. She waited for a few seconds to see if he was simply poising himself to ask another question of his own before she returned her gaze to their visitor.

“Why have you been prowling around the station, obscuring your presence from everyone around you? To what end?” Novak asked after the pause.

The Watcher broke eye contact for the first time, looking down toward some point between the two of them for a split-second as if the question touched upon something the being was uncomfortable with. His eyes snapped back up and locked with Mira’s as he spoke again.

“It would be… clearer to you if I were to show you, in our way,” the Watcher said, the implication that it was a choice and not a demand for compliance.

Mira glanced over at Vernon, who gave her a concerned look in reply. They had already established that the Watcher and his people were powerful telepaths and that it was entirely likely that what he referred to as his people’s way involved it in much more intrusive form. What made it less unnerving was that it was an offer and not an invasion. She could choose to refuse the mental incursion and the Watcher would comply with her wishes.

Mira looked back at the Watcher, her resolve reflected in his face as she said, “Do it.”

With consent given, the Watcher closed his eyes and lowered his head in a manner that seemed almost reverent. Mira watched him with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity as she waited for something to happen. The instant his head stopped sinking downward, everything around her melted away, almost as if reality was falling away to reveal the truth behind what she was capable of perceiving.

The Watcher’s head rose and his eye slid open, and in that moment, Mira felt as if his eyes were now her own and the scene around him was as familiar to her as the corridors of Starbase 11. A flood of emotions assaulted her mind as she experienced, rather than watched, the exchange taking place between the one she perceived as the Watcher and the one she now understood to be the Keeper discussing the details of his assignment in their way.

She could feel the unique complexity of the Keeper’s mind, and suddenly understood how pointless a name was when you truly knew someone with the same certainty as one knew themselves. The exchange of information between the two Talosians flashed by in the span of an instant and conveyed substance and meaning that was more powerful and clearer than any conversation Mira had ever had, even with her own mother.

She knew that the Talosians were fading as a people, she felt the degradation of the quality of psychic stability as keenly as she felt the tightening of her chest when she had an episode thanks to her dual heritage. She understood that the Watcher’s mission wasn’t to subvert, or subdue, or disrupt the lives of her crew. He was there to harness the unique currents that weaved freely around the many species that frequented the starbase, to observe them, share experiences with those who were willing to share, and to know the galaxy beyond the caves of their home world.

As she took in all of the emotions, a single one lingered in her heart even as everything began to fade away… fear. The feeling wasn’t as simple as being afraid of an insect, or a loud noise, or some other mundane but relatable experience. It was a much more visceral, cloying, murky fear that came from some deep and total awareness that inaction could mean death. Not simply the death of a person, but of one’s entire species and everything they have ever been or had the potential to be. A fear that echoed with knowledge that such a fate had already been narrowly avoided once, but so laughably mishandled in the aftermath.

Somewhere along her reflection upon the emotions that had felt like her own momentarily, her office shifted back into her field of view like a blurred image slowly coming back into focus. Mira realized a beat later that she had forgotten the need to breathe, and took in a lung full of air as if her body had been deprived of it for a thousand years. It took her several moments to gather her thoughts, and to separate herself from everything she had experienced from the Watcher’s point of view.

“You understand now,” the Watcher remarked, his voice reflecting a sliver of something tender, almost mournful, slipped into his voice.

Mira wobbled just slightly as she nodded a bit numbly, “I think… I do.”