A/N: Elementa, you are awesome! I hope you keep enjoying it :-)

"What's the situation, doctor?"

Beverly Crusher looked up from her patient to find the captain standing nearby. She blew out a weary sigh and shook her head. "Critical."

Picard's gaze softened as it fell upon the injured young woman. Her chest heaved with halting, uneven breaths. Her eyelids fluttered as if trying to open. "Has she regained consciousness yet?"

"She wavers in and out. But she's sure fighting hard."

Picard nodded approvingly. "Admirable."

He moved closer to better examine their newest passenger. She wore a long, burgundy tunic with black across the chest and shoulders and matching black trousers. A utility belt was clasped around her waist, lined with empty holsters.

"She had weapons on her?" the captain deduced.

"Yes. Multiple types of phasers and knives. And there was something else-" Crusher turned to a nearby table and retrieved a small device from its surface. She placed this device into Picard's palm.

He stared at it, bewildered. "Is this-is this a communicator?" He picked up the V-shaped badge with his other hand and held it aloft for closer scrutiny.

"Yes. I tried to see if I could reach anybody, but nothing came through."

"She is from Starfleet, then?" Picard turned his attention back to the patient sprawled on the cot beside them. "Surely she is too young to be an officer."

"I've taken a blood test, and Bettencourt is running it through the database as we speak. Hopefully we'll have a name soon."

"I don't understand," Picard said with a shake of his head. "Where could she have come from? Why was she alone? There have been no reports of any vessels under attack in this sector. And her uniform-what do you make of it?"

"I've never seen it before. But it does look reminiscent of ours, doesn't it?" Crusher's lips curved into a half-smile. "There's something familiar about her overall, in fact. I can't quite place it."

Picard grunted his concession. "I know what you mean. Her face...it is almost as if..." He trailed off, shaking his head once more. "Well, hopefully she will provide us with some answers when she wakes. Inform me right away of any changes in her state."

Several hours passed before the doctor heard her speak. "Who's there?" her voice rasped. She lifted herself onto her elbows with effort.

Crusher approached, smiling warmly. "It's alright. You had a pretty bad crash. But lucky for you, a couple of our officers were able to pull you out. You're safe now."

"Safe?" She struggled to sit up all the way, but Crusher placed her hands on her shoulders.

"Please stay down. You need your rest."

The young woman grabbed hold of Crusher's wrists with startling swiftness and strength. "Who are you? What am I doing here?" she demanded.

The doctor quelled a surge of apprehension rising in her chest. She answered clearly and slowly: "My name is Beverly Crusher. I'm a Starfleet medical officer. You were injured-"

"Starfleet? You are from Starfleet?" Her grip loosened slightly.

"Yes."

"What outpost is this?" The young woman blinked as she looked around the room for the first time. Her hands fell back down to the bed.

"We're not on an outpost," Crusher replied, straightening back up. "We're on a ship. The U.S.S. Enterprise."

"The-the what?" She swung her feet over the side of the cot, gripping the edge to steady herself.

"The Enterprise," Crusher repeated, backing away a step. "Can you tell me your name?"

But the patient did not answer. Her face hardened, drawing taut with lines of contempt. Her eyes turned slowly, menacingly, towards the doctor. "Who did you say you were?"

Crusher backed away further. One hand reached up and tapped her badge. "Captain, the patient is awake. Requesting security."

Without warning, the young woman leapt from the cot and knocked Crusher into a nearby tray. She clattered to the floor amidst a hail of medical instruments. "No-stop!" the doctor shouted. But it was too late. Her attacker had already fled.