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"Hah!" she exclaimed woozily. "Something's gone wrong!"

With some effort, she lifted her head. Wisps of hair tried insistently to get stuck in her mouth and eyes. She pushed them away impatiently, and squinted. Everything was blurry. In the brightness it was difficult to make anything out. She punched the ground around her, trying to get a feel for the edge of…of…of something…

"Awwwww bugger," she said. "I've got no idea where I am, do I?" The girl blinked blearily. "More than that," she murmured, "I can't remember where I was."

Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the light. As the world became clearer, it became more and more apparent that nothing—not her surroundings, not her stray bits of memory—was remotely familiar.

After a time, she lifted herself to her feet. She noticed it was warm—a definite plus. All around her was thick, green vegetation, in all appearances totally benign. She noticed her feet were bare; she wiggled her toes in what looked like a perfect circle of grass. "It can't be all that bad," she mused aloud, picking at the wraparound dress she found herself wearing. "I may have lost my memory, but at least I know I've lost it. And I also know this is a fine place to lose one's memory in—even if the whole circumstance is a little odd. But, on the other hand," she suddenly frowned, "why should I think it so odd?" Biting her lip, she paced pensively over the circular patch of grass.

A good minute and a half passed in this manner. Then a rustling in the foliage broke her reverie, and she looked up. "Hello?" she ventured, craning her neck to see into the trees. "Hello—is someone there?" For an instant the notion that her language might be useless at that particular moment crossed her mind. But soon the source of the rustling presented itself.

"Hello." It was a man in a yellow shirt.

Mustard, thought the girl. She waved.

Behind him came two more men, these in blue. They offered no greeting.

The girl pursed her lips. There was something peculiarly familiar about these people. If only she knew exactly what it was…

"Excuse me—"

She snapped back to attention. "Sorry," she said. "Were you talking to me? I've only just woken up, you see, so I'm rather scattered. I haven't got much idea where I am—did you just ask me where this was? Ah. I see. Well, I don't really know, having just arrived myself…I think…oh dear, I don't truly know. But I did just wake up. In this very spot, actually."

There was a brief silence.

"So much for the plan to find local assistance, Jim," said the shorter man in blue. "It looks like the locals aren't going to be much help."

"This girl may not be a local, Doctor," the taller one said. "She does not fit the profile of this world's inhabitants."

"Oh, he's got the right idea," the girl said, waving a hand at the tall one. "The more I think on it, the more it seems I'm not from this world at all."

"What…would make you think that?" asked the mustard-shirted man.

"Ahhh…I'm not sure. It's just a…" she paused, knitting her brows together. "It's just a feeling." Suddenly, she felt compelled to look up at the tall one. He looked puzzled. "Very strange," she whispered to herself.

"Do you have any idea where you do come from?" asked the one who'd been called Doctor.

The girl gave a half smile. "Not really, no. It's sort of unnerving, though. And, weird beyond weird, I have this notion that I know you all already from somewhere. Don't ask me where."

"Can I ask your name?" This from Mustard.

"You may. I'm—"

The three men leaned forward.

She experienced a sudden sinking feeling. "Ah…give me a moment." The girl rubbed her eyes. "I'm…come on. I've got a name. I know I have. I'm…" It was no use. She huffed in frustration, and twisted her foot in the turf. "My name…" she began once more, and looked up at the men. Suddenly her eyes widened. "Oh, well that isn't fair at all," she grumbled.

"What's not fair?"

"Why, I know your names, and not mine!"

"Our names?"

"Yes—Mustard-shirt, you're Captain James Kirk. Doctor, you're Leonard McCoy, and you—you're Spock. I don't know why you are. You just are."

"Fascinating."

"I should say so. But I'm more inclined to say frustrating, for I've got no idea how I know who you are!" She threw up her hands and huffed. "And now you've got to get back to your ship, before such-and-such happens, it hardly matters what, so you can go about your business, and for whatever reason your communication is down, and you're being pursued by super-vicious giant sentient cats, for chrissakes, and—"

"Woah, woah, just a minute, now." Kirk stepped forward, peering oddly at the girl. "How do you know all this?"

"Well, I'd sure like to know," she replied. "But I'll tell you this: I think those cats are catching up to you." She hopped from one foot to the other, suddenly agitated. "Spock, you don't want to have traveled halfway across the galaxy just to be eaten by a cat, do you? That's, like, every Vulcan kid's worst nightmare. You'd better fix those communicators."

"The communicators are not in need of repair. Our communications to the ship seem to be intercepted by some means connected with our former captors."

"Oh, you escaped, did you? Well done." She cocked her head to one side. "Now, how did I not know that, when I knew there was imminent danger of death by giant cat…?"

"Look," the captain said, "I don't know who you are, or how you know these…things about us—"

"That makes two of us."

Kirk sighed. "So you'll forgive us if we don't entirely trust you. For all we know, you've been planted here to lead us back to the dungeon we came from."

Somewhere behind them, hidden by a not-terribly-long distance of foliage, a distinct yowl could be heard.

The girl felt a bizarre tingling in the soles of her feet. "Oh, I sincerely doubt I'm capable of doing you harm," she said with feeling. "And I'd hate to see you three eaten," she said, twirling around to face the other side of the clearing. "I'm going to make a run for it. You're welcome to follow me. Who knows," she turned to look over her shoulder at the men, and shrugged, "I might just lead you to a place where you can talk with the ship."

"It seems we have little alternative," murmured Spock to his captain.

"It's all just a bit too surreal," said McCoy. "But if this is what we've got to work with…"

"We'll follow," Kirk announced. "But if we don't get communication—"

"Okay!" the girl exclaimed, not waiting for him to finish. "Let's go!" With that, she crashed into the underbrush.

­* * *

More crashing!