Hannah wandered aimlessly around the Starbase, looking for things to do, people to talk to. She was so bored, doing anything would be better than sitting alone in her and Kirk's room. Refusing to wear the official Star Fleet uniform, insisting 'a dumbass piece of plastic doesn't make me a Star Fleet Officer', she wandered around in comfort clothes- leggings and a sports vest. She seemed to subconsciously dress to go to the gym, feeling most at home in clothes that allowed her the freedom to move, to run, to fight. She was hugely relieved when she actually found a gym, and so her subconscious lure towards exercise seemed justified. Grinning, she wandered inside and asked the first person she say if they fancied sparring with her. Commodore Paris was more than willing to comply, after all, people rarely were willing to engage in exercises that might harm a superior officer for fear of punishment. Luckily for her, Hannah had no idea who she was, and so had no qualms in sparring with the Commodore with everything she had. Unlucky for the Commodore, Hannah throwing everything she had into a fight usually meant her sparring partner ended up defeated and humiliated.
Both women wiped the sweat from their respective brows, and shook damp hands. Hannah grinned at Commodore Paris broadly;
"You put up a good fight," She praised, "I'm Hannah, what should I call you?" Commodore Paris frowned at her, drawing back her hand. Hannah's grin faltered.
"You don't know me?" Paris raised an eyebrow, looking at the young woman with such a deep scrutiny that Hannah felt unnerved. The intense gaze from Paris jolted Hannah, making her feel slightly off-balance, as though this were some tactic to catch her out. Hannah brushed the stray hairs that had escaped her bun back off her face, and rubbed the back of her neck before answering.
"No?" She apologised, biting the inside of her lip briefly, before continuing in a tumble of words. "Guessing that means, you're high up in the command- I'm sorry, I have no idea who you are." The raising of an eyebrow invited Paris to fill in with her name, and she almost laughed before she complied. Hannah smiled warmly at her, before faltering. She frowned, clearly puzzling something over in her mind.
"Yes, I am the Commodore assigned to Yorktown," Paris elaborated, breaking into a smile. Hannah's frown turned into discomfort almost immediately, as she began to stammer out an apology, trying to work out whether she was supposed to salute, or shake hands- or perhaps Star Fleet had developed a new mechanism of a respectful greeting. She let out a breath of relief when Paris held her hand out towards Hannah. "Pleasure to meet you, Captain Kirk speaks very highly of you." Hannah's eyebrow quirked upright, and she couldn't stop the smirk that spread across her face. Pride mingled with something she couldn't quite place, and it drew her gaze down towards the floor, heat flushing up her cheeks. She released Paris' hand quickly, almost too quickly, Hannah abruptly realised as she was met with a interested smirk. Hannah's face burned a brighter red, and still she wasn't entirely sure why.
The light that filled Yorktown was an unnatural white. It reflected sharply off surfaces, the glare of the artificial lights blinding those unused to the sheer brightness. The white light only accentuated the sheer volume of the Starbase, the sprawling lengths of the halls made larger still by the white surfaces. It seemed all too clinical and clean to Hannah, as she wandered its length. Uncertain of what she was searching for, she inspected every corridor, every unlocked room. Her nosiness would no doubt be her downfall, but she felt an unquenchable urge to find out everything about Yorktown. It seemed false to her, an illusion. Whilst she had, over previous months, questioned whether the reality of her situation, this seemed to be excessively unlikely. Yorktown felt too clean for this volume of people- the walls of sound that hit her whenever she returned to the main squares felt like being back in Edinburgh. But there was no abandoned food wrappers, no coffee cups left on any horizontal surface. It was missing the grime of an urban location. She found herself almost hoping to find something scrawled on the inside door of a toilet, but no such luck. This place, run by a human-dominated staff, seemed endlessly alien.
And of course, every time she looked out a window, she was reminded that Yorktown was nothing more than a glass bauble, dangling precariously in space. Hannah almost longed for the cramped rooms of her university accommodation. At least that was grounded- well, sure, the tumble dryer did set on fire that one time, and the oven had a habit of turning itself off mid way through cooking a meal- but at least it was on the ground. Stability was something Hannah was never going to take for granted again, provided of course, she ever found a place she could feel at home enough to be stable.
Hannah somehow ran into Scotty and Keenser, glad to see them without a whole cohort of unknown people. She grinned at them, and let her existential crisis drift away from her, choosing instead to go get pissed with the Chief Engineer and whatever Keenser was. She was eternally glad for the distraction and the excuse to drink to her heart's content, after all, she had spent far too much time recently solely in Kirk's company, and their almost-relationship was starting to concern her. She didn't know quite what they were doing, and she definitely wasn't delving into how she felt about Kirk, because that was a rabbit hole she'd never escape. Once she admitted how she felt about him, she would no longer be able to deny anything about it to herself and when she inevitably found out that she didn't mean anything to him, it would crush her. Well, not crush her. But she might not be able to face Kirk for a good few months, and given how few people she knew, that would make life very uncomfortable.
Hannah ordered another drink, and slammed it back in one go, turning to Scotty and grinning, a challenge in her eyes.
"Are you ever sober?" Scotty asked Hannah, the comment not quite scolding, but equally it didn't condone her actions. Hannah grinned even wider, and winked at the Scotsman.
"Not if I can help it," She sang. Scotty grumbled slightly, but reluctantly paid for yet another round of drinks.
"I need to make the Captain put you on the pay roll," He mumbled. Hannah laughed, a loud, infectious laugh, and lightly punched Scotty on the shoulder. He looked down at his offended shoulder in surprise, glancing back at Hannah, affronted. After all, 'light' was a relative term. She didn't deign to answer him, merely raised an eyebrow at the Scottish engineer, the unspoken request in her eyes. Scotty stared her down for a moment, and Hannah pouted. Scotty crumbled. He bought Hannah another drink, the two glasses now sat in front of her mocking him. There goes all his money, wasted on feeding an alcoholic's addiction. At least Keenser was a lightweight- cheap to get pissed.
Hannah stumbled back into her and Kirk's room, her head already starting to pound. She wasn't quite as pissed as she had wanted to be, only slightly off-balance, her world only slightly off. Her past still swam in the back of her mind, and she hummed to herself, trying to squash it out of her thoughts. She fell on to the empty bed, rolling on to her side and curling into a ball. The sheets below her skin were cold, leaching the warmth and life from her as she lay there. The self-loathing washed over her still, the hatred for all the things she'd done, and everything she hadn't done. The people she'd let down whispered in her mind's ear, a silent cacophony of blame and guilt. And more guilt. And more guilt.
Hannah rolled on to her back, and stared up at the ceiling, blocking out her thoughts, and letting herself drift into a restless sleep.
The Starbase rocked beneath Kirk's feet, and his gaze darted out to the window. Bursts of light scattered along the transparent hull of Yorktown, a distant ship firing on them. Next to him, Commodore Paris leap into action, her voice filling the air with a demand to know what was happening. Alerts blared on the screen that separated Kirk and Paris, warnings of hull breaches, damage to systems, and injuries to the staff of Yorktown. With very little in the way of offensive weapons, Yorktown was a sitting duck. It was unable to defend itself, unable to fight back against this sudden, abrupt attack. Kirk stared out the window, horror dawning on his face. Realisation dawned on him, and he turned to Paris, offering his assistance without words. Paris met his gaze, and nodding a single, thank you to the Captain.
"Kirk," She called before Kirk left her office entirely. "Don't take unnecessary risks. Stay safe." Kirk held her gaze for a moment, and then left, her kindness enough of a dismissal.
People rushed into a panic, as the Enterprise's crew tried to fight their way through towards their ship. Despair and panic reigned on the unsuspecting citizens, trying to find shelter where there was none. They made life more difficult for the crew of the Enterprise, as they struggled to weave their way through the panic, and struggled even more to shrug off their loved ones. But still they hurried towards their ship, prepping the Enterprise for flight as quickly as they could safely manage. They had been given five minutes to make it on to the ship, and make her flight ready, and no one was going to miss that deadline. After all, they were the only defence this base had. They were not going to let their loved ones die, because they could get out of bed fast enough.
Scotty and Keenser fought off the haze of inebriation as they hurried towards Engineering, suddenly finding themselves far more sober than they could have believed. The threat of death hung over them, with one mistake possibly costing the lives of hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent people. They flew through the launch sequence, ensuring the warp drive was primed and ready to go. Scotty glanced around Engineering, hoping and praying everyone had made it to their stations.
The rush in the Med Bay was even more hectic than in Engineering, with nurses desperately trying to ensure they had enough supplies to tend to the wounded they knew would flood into Med Bay soon enough. McCoy rushed around, counting staff, prepping beds, finding equipment, and constantly noting the absences of his most essential staff. One by one they all hurried into the Med Bay, reporting to duty. All except one. His unofficial staff. Hannah.
The Enterprise left Yorktown, slowly circling around the far side of the base, attempting to stay hidden whilst the Bridge crew desperately assembled a plan. In the time that it had taken them to move into flight, the number of vessels attacking Yorktown had doubled. Uhura had managed to intercept their communications, and work out precisely who it was they were dealing with.
The Klingon ships, whilst many, did not seem to be a strong military attack. They were too disorganised, too uncoordinated in their attacks. A couple of ships had fired early, mistiming the movements of their companion ships, and had accidentally fired on their own ship. At least the Enterprise had that working in their favour.
Hannah only woke when she was thrown from the bed by a particularly violent hit. She sprawled out along the floor, her hair tumbling into her mouth and choking her. She coughed and spluttered, scraping the tangle from her mouth, and forced herself upright. She stood as Yorktown shook again. Brushing her hair back off her face, she dragged the sleep from her mind, and stumbled out of the room, not bothering to dress. Her bare feet collided with the ground harshly, her step not as certain as it usually was. The over-sized t-shirt hung to her mid thigh as she stepped into the bustling corridor. Grabbing the nearest adult by the arm, Hannah spoke urgently:
"What's happening? Tell me, what is going on?" She demanded of the poor man. He looked back at her, fear widening his eyes and ripped his arm back.
"We're all going to die," He answered, backing away from her. Hannah stepped half a step backwards, reeling from the sheer horror in his gaze. Barely even recognising the swarm of people in her way, Hannah moved towards the windows of the Starbase. The sky was missing its usual mirage of stars, replaced instead by bright flashes of red light. The shields crackled with each impact, and Hannah could swear she could see them crumbling slowly. Dozens of ships filled the sky, small but weaving in and out of each other, an endless rhythmic dance, holding a promise of destruction to reign down upon the base full of civilians. Hannah froze, her gaze wilding scanning the whole of the night sky, trying to take in the full extent of the threat, the words of the man she'd grabbed ringing in her ears.
They were all going to die.