"Vacarro!" Will shouted, jogging towards the young officer perched at the top of the ridge. "Lieutenant Vacarro!"

Vacarro turned his shoulders to face the approaching commander. Sweat from the humid night air slicked a lock of hair to his forehead. He let the long, rifle-like weapon in his hands droop as his brows pinched together apprehensively. "Please, sir," he pleaded. "We need more time!"

As Will drew up to his side, the chaotic scene below came into view. Huddles of shell-shocked colonists hiked along the ravine floor, assisted by men and women from the Enterprise. Meanwhile, Romulan fire laid waste to the outpost around them and its once magnificent forests. "Well how much longer? Who's left?" Will asked, practically shouting above the thunderous booms of battle.

"Dr. Crusher's team is still clearing out the hospital, but the rest of the settlement should be clear. Sir, if I may…" He glanced nervously at the smoldering horizon. "How will our rescue shuttles be able to leave under this kind of fire?"

"Backup is on its way," the commander assured. "We just have to-" A Romulan craft zoomed overhead, interrupting their exchange. Instinctively, both men dropped to the ground. Shouts of alarm rang out from below.

"The colonists!" Vacarro cried.

Even from the distance, Will could see fear shining in the upturned eyes of the evacuees. They cowered on the ravine floor, nowhere to flee. Mothers covered their children's faces lest they see the harbinger of their fate. Rage and sorrow clashed in the commander's chest.

But then another craft appeared, sleek as a shadow. Will recognized it immediately as one of their own. It arced over the treetops, spinning gracefully out of a barrel roll. The torpedo launcher beneath one of its wings glowed for but a second, then the Romulan fighter exploded. A spectacular blaze seared the night sky.

Vacarro sighed with audible relief. "That was a close one," he mumbled. "Think our fighters will hold up much longer?"

"Yes. And the K'tempagh is almost here," Will said, fumbling slightly with the Klingon ship's name. "They were already in this sector when they heard our call for help. We just have to get everyone aboard the rescue shuttles and ready to go."

From the edge of the woods behind them came the rushing and crashing of footsteps. Both men leapt to their feet with weapons drawn. A blue coat emerged from the thicket, snagged with branches and leaves. Will lowered his phaser. "Oliveri? What are you doing here?"

The medical officer bent over his knees, gulping for breath. "Dr. Crusher...she…she…"

"Dr. Crusher?" Will's throat tightened. "What happened to her? Spit it out!"

"We got them out…" He waved at the line of refugees below. "We got them all out of the hospital. But she went back in."

"Why the hell would she do that?" Will grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to straighten up.

"She...she said she heard something. Had to check it out. I tried to go after her, but the building...it fell apart."

"You mean she's…?" The commander's question came out hoarsely, choked by the threat of losing one of his closest friends.

"She's alive," Oliveri replied. "But she's trapped. Please. We can't leave her behind."

Will swore under his breath. "Vacarro, get everyone to the shuttles."

"And Dr. Crusher?" the lieutenant asked.

"We'll get her. I promise."

Will and Oliveri raced through the night, the ground beneath them trembling with every blast. The hospital had been on the eastern edge of the settlement, which now lay in ruins. As they came to a stop near the broken outer wall, Will smacked his combadge. "Riker to Crusher. Answer me, damnit."

Though his lungs ached, he held his breath until the doctor's voice came through. "I'm here, commander. No need to swear."

He grinned wryly. "Well what do you think you're doing? Why aren't you with the others?"

"I found one more. His leg broke when the walls came down, and he couldn't follow them out."

Will eyed the night sky warily. If one of those Romulan fighters should spot them..."Where are you? We don't have much time."

"We're trapped in what's left of the west wing. I'm clearing out the rubble best I can with my phaser, but it's slow going."

"Keep at it," Will ordered. "We'll be right there."

The two officers made their way around the corpse of a building until they could hear the muffled blasts of Beverly's phaser. Will nodded, then he and Oliveri set to work. They tossed aside what they could and blasted the heavier chunks of debris with their phasers. Sweat rolled from the commander's brow. Dust clouded the air from their toil. Heave after heave, they dug tirelessly through the wreckage until at long last, they heard Beverly's voice clear as day.

"That's it! I'm sending him through first. Careful, now."

Will squatted down, peering through the makeshift tunnel. A small boy appeared on the other side. Not much older than Carmen, he grimly noted. Dust coated the child's hair, turning it ashen gray. A scrape across his forehead dribbled blood into his fearful brown eyes.

"It's alright," Will coaxed. "You're safe now. I'm here to help."

The boy glanced back at Beverly. She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Go on; you'll be fine."

Obediently, the boy got down on his stomach and began to crawl towards the commander. Beverly urged him on while Oliveri kept nervous watch. As soon as the boy was within reach, Will grabbed his arms and pulled him the rest of the way out. The child winced to be set on his feet again, but tried his best to remain stalwart in the commander's presence.

"You won't be able to walk," Will remarked, taking in the boy's grotesquely bent leg. "But that's alright, I'll just carry you. It isn't far." That last part was a lie, but Will knew the dangers of despair. He had to keep the boy's hopes up.

After helping Beverly come through the tunnel, the group set out on their perilous trek. The last of the refugees had made it through the ravine, leaving the forest dark and still once more. Wait a minute. Will glanced about wildly. Dark and still? No weapon fire illuminated the night. No more blasts tore open the ground. The battle had suddenly and ominously ended.

"Commander…?" Oliveri turned around, the question lingering heavy in the air.

Shifting the boy's weight, Will tapped at his combadge. "Riker to Vacarro. Report." But only silence answered him. "I said report, Vacarro!"

The boy cried out suddenly, pointing at something over the commander's shoulder. Will whipped around. A red eye gleamed in the dark, moving steadily towards them. In the dim light of the stars, a sallow, sunken face came into view around the red eye. Then a half humanoid, half mechanical body.

"RUN!" Will bellowed. He held the boy tightly as they fled through the forest, low-hanging branches whipping past them. They climbed higher and higher, skirting the ravine. On the wings of the wind, Will heard a desperate battle waging near the rescue shuttles.

"How did they find us?" Oliveri panted as they came to a stop in a thick copse of trees. Will handed the boy off to Beverly.

"I don't know. But at least they scared the Romulans away."

Oliveri scowled. "How are we going to get to the shuttles? They'll leave if they get the chance. And then what? We'll be stranded! And there's no way we can beam back to the Enterprise; they'll still have their shields up."

Will ruffled the boy's hair, ignoring Oliveri's hopeless ramblings. "Beverly here is going to make sure you get on that shuttle. And I'm going to make sure that the shuttle takes off. I just need you to be brave for a few minutes. Think you can do that?"

The boy nodded, his lower lip trembling.

"Good." Will straightened, tugging at his uniform. He changed out his phaser for a dagger that had been tucked into his belt. "Now...don't look."

And with that, he plunged into the fray. With each stroke of his dagger, he cleared a bloody path for Beverly and Oliveri to follow. Civilians left the safety of the shuttles to help Will and the other officers fight back against the wave of drones. But the tide seemed never-ending. Just as Will slayed one Borg, another took its place.

Then something struck the back of his head. He landed face first in the dirt. A ringing silence filled his ears. A mind-numbing fog wrapped around his thoughts. Just before he slipped away, a single word rolled off his tongue in a half-whispered groan. "Carmen…."

Voices swarmed around the commander. He bolted upright, sensation and adrenaline returning to his veins. But he found himself back in sickbay, which meant he was back aboard the Enterprise. A boy with curly brown hair sat at the foot of his cot. He said nothing, merely staring up at the commander dolefully. It was the boy Beverly had saved. Will could see his features more clearly now that he had been cleaned up. Gray, standard issue clothing hung from his bony shoulders. His cheeks had lost their color and youthful roundness. Tragedy had dulled his eyes to a dazed and weary luster.

"He wouldn't leave you." A voice drew the commander's attention away. Beverly approached, holding a tricorder and still covered in dust. She smiled at the boy. "It seems you've made a friend."

"What happened?" Will rubbed the back of his head, remembering the thump that had knocked him out.

The smile faded from Beverly's face. "Oliveri saw you go down. He...intervened." She didn't have to tell the rest of the story. Will had heard it before. He swung his legs to the floor and gripped the edge of the mattress, bracing himself for the familiar rush of guilt and grief.

"And Lieutenant Vacarro?"

Beverly shook her head. "He fought bravely. As did the others. In fact, it was two of the colonists who dragged you to safety. Our shuttle was the only one to make it, I'm afraid." Another wave of guilt and grief washed over the commander. One shuttle. Only a quarter of the colonists we were sent to save.

The boy crawled closer to Will's side, craving comfort but too timorous to ask for it. Will rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You did a good job out there. Thank you."

For the first time, the boy smiled. His eyes searched Will's gaze, imploring him for more comfort, more reassurance. His earnestness brought a smile to the commander's face as well.

"Hey, do you like hot cocoa?" he asked. "I have a daughter about your age. We always make hot cocoa when I return from a mission. Would you like to join us?"

The boy's smile grew. He nodded shyly.

"Alright then. But first, you have to tell me your name."

Bouncing his feet against the side of the cot, he answered in a quiet and barely audible voice, as though unused to speaking to adults. Or speaking in general. "Allan," he whispered. "Allan Sheppard."