San Francisco, California. 2023. Enterprise Station.

Lavinia couldn't recall the last time she had ever run so fast, as she made a sharp turn at the end of the corridor. The pounding of her heart and stocking clad feet filled her ears, as she let out sharp and painful breaths. She made a mental note to never run in a corset again, as she wheezed. The sound of pounding footsteps came from behind, along with shouts.

"COME BACK!"

Lavinia managed to look over her shoulder as she ran, and screamed. The man who shouted at her was catching up, and being followed by the others. Turning her head back forwards, Lavinia made another turn and dashed into a room. Skidding to a halt, Lavinia found herself in a very sterilized room. She saw jars and vials along the countertops and shelves. Several beds laid about, covered in thin white sheets.

When she spotted one of the trays next to the gurney, she screamed. There were so many objects upon the tray. Blades and clamps, needles and other unknown objects. In such a daze, Lavinia didn't hear the men coming in behind her. It wasn't until the forceful grip on her shoulders and the hard yank, which broke her out of her daze, which made her realize that she'd been captured.

Struggling, Lavinia tried to kick at her captor, but it was hard to do with her back against his chest.

"Get your hands off me!" she growled, struggling against the ironclad grip.

"Who the hell are you?" the man shouted, as he pushed her into the corner.

Lavinia's shoulder hit the wall, making her gasp in pain. Sinking to her knees, Lavinia pushed herself up and turned to look at the man.

"How dare you! Is that how you treat a lady?" she snapped, glaring at the man.

She heard a snicker by the door from one of the others, and the man before her sneered.

"I could do worse," he said, and in a blur he had his arm against her throat and a scalpel against her cheek. Lavinia yelped as the cold blade rested just below her eye, and pushed herself further into the wall.

"Now," he whispered harshly, "I ain't gonna ask again. Who are you and how the hell did you get in here?"

Lavinia stared at him with wide eyes, her breath caught in her throat. All she wanted was to return to her room, have dinner and go to bed. But she found herself at a loss as to where her room was. She couldn't even remember where she was from or what year it was. Only a few short minutes ago, she knew exactly what the year was and where her room was located. But as she roamed the halls, things became blurry and she couldn't put two and two together.

Opening her mouth to speak, Lavinia found herself at a loss for words. Instead of giving her name, a startled cry left her mouth.

"McCoy!"

Lavinia blinked harshly, as a few tears fell from her eyes. McCoy turned his head slightly to the side, as Christopher moved forward.

"That's enough," he said, his voice cool and calm. "Let her go."

McCoy stood still, the blade still resting against Lavinia's face and his arm against her throat.

"McCoy, that's an order," Christopher stated.

With one last look, McCoy dropped both his arm and the blade. He glared at Lavinia before moving back, allowing her a view of the others.

With a strangled cry, Lavinia sank to the floor and began to sob. The corset was digging into her ribcage in her awkward position on the floor, and the sobbing made it harder to breathe. With one hand under her breast, trying to grip her ribs, Lavinia kept her gaze on the ground.

A few minutes later, she felt a hand on her arm and jumped. Looking up, she saw a younger man crouched down before her. He had short black hair and a friendly face. He was what mother would all a Chinaman, someone who fled their country and corrupted the youth with their horrid tales of dragons and their drugs. She could remember the time when her mother caught her playing with a young girl from Beijing, and how her mother dragged her away shouting.

"Their kind is dangerous, Lavinia. I will not tolerate you stooping so low to socialize with them!"

Hikaru held his hands up in defense, "Hey, hey.." he said, as she looked at him with fearful eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said.

Lavinia looked between the man before her to the others behind him, who in returned watched her closely.

"What's your name?" he asked, her gaze turning back to him.

Lavinia cleared her throat, "Lavinia Rose Watson-Campbell," she let out in one breath.

Hikaru chuckled, "That's a long name, Lavinia," he said.

She managed a small smile and he held out his hand, "I'm Hikaru Sulu," he said, as she glanced at his hand. "Come on, the floor can't be that comfortable," he said.

Taking his hand, Hikaru grasped it firmly and helped her off the floor and to her feet. Once she was stable on her own, Hikaru let her hand go and turned to the others.

"These are my friends," he said, nodding to the men. "They wont hurt you either."

"Friends? Was the man with the blade a friend of yours?" she asked.

By then, McCoy had left the room without a word, and for once Lavinia was glad to have him out of sight.

"Don't worry about McCoy," Hikaru said. "He's just a grumpy old man."

"Careful Sulu, you don't want him to hear that," the blonde said, moving forward. "I'm Jim Kirk," he said, holding out his hand.

Lavinia took it and shook it lightly, "Charmed, I'm sure," she said.

Hikaru snickered as Jim frowned, and nodded to the others. "That's Pavel Chekov," he said, nodding to the very young man with curly hair.

He gave her a small wave, "Hello," he mumbled, before looking down at his feet.

"And this is our boss-man, Christopher Pike," Hikaru finished.

Lavinia looked at the much older man that stood next to Pavel, and frowned. He looked familiar and the name as well, though she couldn't remember exactly where she had heard it before.

"I think we need to talk, Miss," Christopher said, nodding to her.

She nodded, "I think we do," she replied, as the world tilted beneath her feet. "But I feel really funny and co-" she slurred, before falling forward.

London, England. February 1952

The bitter wind ripped through the streets, as the man pulled the collar of his wool coat up. Grey skies rolled in, as the evening crowds bustled about, making their way to cabs and the train station. Scotty looked both ways before jogging across the street, before heading down the alleyway.

It was nearing six and it was time to go home, after a long day with his lady.

Betty.

Scotty sighed as he thought about the dark-haired woman, who lived in a little flat above the local bookshop. He'd left her in her warm bed, dressed only in her stockings.

"Why must you go, darling? Can't you stay the night?"

"Ye know ah want to, Betty. But I don't want yer reputation tarnished."

"It's already ruined, love. I don't care what people say about us."

With a quick kiss on her pouty lips, Scotty grabbed his coat and hat and made his way out of the flat, down the stairs and into the winter air. Leaving Betty was always hard, and something Scotty tried to avoid. While the others had no idea where he spent most of his evenings, Scotty assured them that he was working and not rushing off to fulfill his needs. The alley was dark and reeked of trash and piss, as stray cats dodged behind garbage cans.

Scotty let out a sigh as he moved deeper into the darkness, keeping his ears open for unknown sounds. When he was out of sight from the streets, Scotty stood against the wall and dug through his coat pockets. Finding what he needed, he stood still and closed his eyes. With a hum and a tugging sensation, Scotty felt as if he were being pulled down through the ground. Falling into the dark abyss of the unknown.