Seven

"No way in hell am I letting her die, Dimitri!"

"Jen, we can only do so much. She's lost too much blood."

"Don't give me that shit, I saw Parker get wheeled out of sickbay two days ago looking good as new, and he was in way worse condition than Tori when he went in."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Jen," hissed Dimitri, pushing her away from the door. "I'm going into surgery now, and I promise I'll do everything I can, but –"

"I swear to any and every god there is, Dimitri, if you let Tori die I will end you," Jennifer's eyes glinted dangerously. "I know what's been going down on the science deck. They think I'm oblivious, which is why they gave me this ship, but I know the substance they've discovered can regrow something as complicated as the human heart, a few bones aren't a big deal. And I know you have authorisation to use it."

"The healing properties are a one-off thing!" persisted Dimitri. "In order to maintain the effects, you have to be careful. Even if she survives the transfusion, there's a big chance the injuries will just come back if she goes off it."

"I don't care. Do it."

"Jen, if they found out –"

"Dr. Nikols?" Dr. Lionel Hofstader peeked outside the surgery room, a frown on his face. "We need to get started. Jen, are you coming in?"

"No," Jen shook her head and backed away, keeping her eyes on Dimitri. "I have to get to the bridge. Dimitri, remember that you owe her, she's saved your ass more times than either of us can count."

Lionel frowned. "The surgery is pushing it anyway, Jen. There isn't much we can do. Her entire right side is shattered, there's a lot of internal bleeding, and best-case scenario she'll have to lose a leg."

"I know what you can and can't do," snapped Jen. "Make sure you do it."

"If I do this," said Dimitri slowly. "She may hate us for it. She's going to have to live with it for the rest of her life, and she could end up as a lab rat for the higher-ups when we get back to Federation headquarters."

"Think about what Tori would want, Jen," said Lionel gently. "You could get suspended. We all could. It's a complete breach of protocol."

Jen's eyes were wet with tears when she glanced back into the surgery room. Her friend's red hair was the only thing she could see; every inch of skin was either covered in blood, or wires that were keeping her alive. "She did it to save me," she croaked out. "And now you're going to save her. That's an order, Dr. Nikols."

Dimitri sighed. "Aye, captain."

And then the monitors started beeping.

"We're losing her!" someone yelled.

"Dammit, Tori!"

Victoria's eyes flew open, Dimitri's loud voice ringing in her ears. Her hand automatically going to her right hip. The jagged, puckered line from his scalpel was still there; she could feel it even through her cotton pyjamas. Some scars healed, but never fully. A memory from twelve years ago resurfacing as a dream was completely normal, and she could hear Lionel in her head now, reassuring her that she was fine. "You've been through a major trauma, Tori," he would say gently. "People don't recover overnight. Just try and get some sleep. Doctor's orders."

Sleep. Victoria snorted and threw the covers off her legs, sitting up in bed. Sleep had eluded her for years. If she wasn't dreaming about her accident twelve years ago in the Laurentian system, she was working. And if she wasn't working, she was answering passive-aggressive communications from her father, ensuring she was alive and hidden from prying eyes.

"Dammit," she muttered. Giving up on sleep, she picked up a PADD off her bedside table and flicked through recent messages. The usual two from her father were there, where they would stay unopened and unanswered until she felt like it. Demora's school had sent an alert about a PTA – she would have to remind Ben it was his turn to go. Sulu's weekly message was missing, he had probably sent Ben one instead of both of them, but she made a mental note to check anyway. Pointedly, there was nothing from Jim, which made her worry slightly.

There was also nothing from Dr. McCoy.

That was a can of worms she was definitely not going to open just yet. Shutting off her PADD, Victoria grabbed her robe from the hook it was hanging on next to her bed and made her way to the bathroom. A shower to cleanse her of the blood she could still feel sticking to her skin, and some breakfast to remind her that there was in fact nothing wrong with her right arm or leg would help. It wouldn't fix anything, but it would really, really help.

!

vVctoria knew something was wrong as soon as she got into work.

"Who the hell is in charge here?" she snapped. The ensign in front of her faltered, and she groaned with annoyance before whirling around, her high heels clacking against the linoleum floor as she stormed her way towards the tactical office inside the plaza.

The room was in chaos – she could see why the ensign had been unable to give her directions. Did anyone know what they were doing? She doubted it. Pushing aside her blind panic at the knowledge of the crew of the Enterprise's current position – if she even thought about Jim Kirk being dead she would start crying – she focused on the task at hand. Grabbing a random headset, she punched in the correct code and found herself in communication with at least ten voices at once. She didn't bother to try and make herself heard, merely grabbed the closest chair and opened her PADD, trying to figure out what the hell had gone wrong in the last few days.

She had had a bad feeling about the ambassador's claims, but the orders came from higher up and she had been given no say in the matter. There hadn't been enough time to get someone from Earth involved, even though she had considered sending her father a sealed communication request so he could intervene. Small wonder she had packed the Enterprise with more supplies than they needed, and ordered a revamp of their escape pods, despite the fact that it wasn't her department. She didn't care. Jim was as good as her own kid, and the thought of Demora being left with only one parent made her heart ache. Of course, McCoy's face flashed across her eyes more often than not. The mission was stupid and dangerous, and added to that something was definitely messing with the –

"Red Alert. All occupants to the sub-zero level for evacuation. All personnel to High Command. Red Alert. All occupants to the sub-zero level for evacuation. All personnel to High Command…"

They were evacuating the Central Plaza. Victoria's hands froze. Central Plaza being evacuated meant that there was something inside Yorktown, the quiet little bubble in the middle of deep space she had chosen specifically because it would keep her and her family safe.

But that was impossible. Nothing got into Yorktown without them knowing about it. Even her, an average-rank science official on ground duty in charge of supplies would have known if something had gotten in.

"Ma'am?" a security officer was suddenly in front of her, pushing her towards the flow of people rushing downstairs. The tactical office was on the top floor. Of course. "You need to leave, ma'am."

"What's going on?" she heard herself ask. "Why do I need to get to High Command?" Her legs were shaking. The officer grasped her elbow to keep her steady, giving her a wary look.

"I have orders to get all personnel to High Command," was his only answer. He gave her another look. "Are you sure you're personnel?"

Victoria narrowed her eyes, annoyance seeping through her panic. "My name is Lieutenant Dr. Victoria More, ensign," she snapped, wrenching her arm out of his grip. "And if you want to keep your job I suggest –"

A loud crash cut her off. Eyes wide, she focused on a ship that was getting bigger by the second, making a beeline towards them. It was colliding helter-skelter with buildings on either side, and she realized that was because it was being chased. Brilliant. Some long-dormant senses of hers kicked in and she ditched the ensign standing next to her, rushing into the crowd heading towards the evacuation point. High Command could wait. She needed to get out of there.

!

"I've got someone here!"

"Alive or dead?"

"Can't tell, sir."

"Well, pull 'em out anyway. We can get them identified with the next lot."

Victoria groaned quietly, fighting the urge to sit up. She was no doctor, but she'd been on enough away missions to know how to analyse her injuries. Her leg was broken, probably mangled considering she was lying flat on solid ground right now and her last memory was of running within range of a seventy-storey building when it crashed down. There was a large amount of plaster holding it down, which meant she couldn't move, and the dust in the air would ensure her throat was too dry to scream. She could try and crawl out, but with a small jolt of pain she realized there was some debris on her other side as well, pinning her down. Moving could be tricky, because she had no spatial awareness and so she couldn't calculate if any movement would cause more debris to fall and injure her other side as well. That would be inconvenient, considering her left hand had barely recovered from when Jim had –

Jim.

Victoria shot up, all logical thought flying from her brain. Had Jim been in the ship that crashed into the plaza? Was he dead? The thought made her feel sick. Ignoring the stars in front of her eyes, Victoria tried to focus on her surroundings. The debris on her arm had fallen off harmlessly when she had sat up, but her leg was still stuck, and it hurt. With her bloody hand, she tried to push off the chunk of plaster, but was unsuccessful. That wasn't good.

Her ears were ringing with adrenaline, bright lights twinkled in front of her eyes, and she felt dizzy. Moving had been a very bad idea, because now she felt cold and her throat was closing up with fear. She could be stuck here for hours: the voices that had jolted her awake could have moved on by now, and she needed to know if Jim was alive, if anyone was alive. Would they have evacuated Demora's school? Ben had been working when the red alert had sounded: where had he gone? She couldn't feel her PADD or communicator on her person, which meant she had no way of contacting anyone. Her hands started shaking.

"Breathe," she choked out. Her voice sounded hoarse and foreign, but she forced the words out of her mouth. "You need to breathe." She closed her eyes and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes to block out the shifting lights. "Just breathe," she told herself, her voice getting stronger. "Just breathe."

The ringing was less overwhelming now, but she could still hear her heart hammering loudly in her chest. Warily, she removed her hands from her face. The lighting had changed, and she looked up slowly. There was a man standing above her, and he gave her a look of utter shock when he saw she was conscious.

"Hi," he said, schooling his expression immediately. But his voice was high-pitched and he sounded utterly bewildered. "Err, are you –"

"Thank god," whispered Victoria. She was already pushing at the plaster. "Can you help –"

"Ma'am, you need to stay still," he was wearing a paramedic's uniform, she noticed now. And he looked like he was about to have a stroke. "You can't move, ma'am, you've probably broken –"

"It's alright," said Victoria. Her voice was still hoarse, and she wondered if he could understand her. She doubted it. Unable to explain in words, she gestured to her right arm, which was undamaged, and her left arm, which was bloody but still functioning. "Just my leg," she managed to choke out. Her throat was clogged with dust.

The paramedic's eyes lit up with understanding. "Can you feel anything?" he asked. Victoria winced and nodded slowly. Seeming satisfied, he murmured something into the communicator on his shoulder and knelt next to her. "We'll get some lifters to pick this up and get you checked out. I know it hurts but that probably means there's no nerve damage. What's your name?"

"Victoria," she said, her voice slightly clearer now. The paramedic nodded and took a tricorder out, scanning her quickly. Victoria sighed wearily, knowing what was coming next.

She had been to enough doctors and seen enough medical professionals examine her to know it was always the same story. She watched the paramedic's eyes go over the readings, his expression neutral until he got to the part that she knew would be about blood content and the physical condition of her leg. His eyes widened. "Hey, Victoria, can you tell me if any of this –"

"How long have I been here?" interrupted Victoria. She knew the drill. She wasn't supposed to talk about this if she wanted her father to clean up this mess.

The paramedic seemed concerned, but offered her a small smile. "We're guessing twelve hours. They just cleared medical to start digging around here, but if you're part of the group that went down when the ship crashed into the plaza just as evacuation was happening, I'd guess maybe a little longer."

Slowly, she shook her head. "I was running."

He nodded. "Then I'd say roughly eight hours."

"Do you know what happened?" she persisted. "How many people are hurt? Did they get further into the base? I saw a ship."

His expression became guarded. "You have family or friends in Yorktown with you?" he asked warily. Victoria nodded. He looked even more concerned now. "We're going to have to check on that when we get out of here. But the situation was handled. The Enterprise came back."

"And they're alive?" she persisted.

The paramedic shook his head slowly. "They lost a lot of their crew. But their captain, Jim Kirk, he's fine. I think their CMO was even flying a ship at some point."

Victoria felt a weight lift from her mind immediately, and let out a breath she didn't even realize she had been holding. Jim was safe, and so was McCoy: she would just have to wait to see if Hikaru, Ben and Demora were alright as well. As if her body was sensing the dispelling of tension, Victoria felt her head begin to ache, along with a dull throbbing near the small of her back. But her leg was getting unbearable now – every breath she took made white hot pain shoot down from her lungs to the tips of her toes, though she supposed the fact that she could even feel her toes was not a bad thing.

If the paramedic noticed the change in her demeanour, he didn't comment on it. His comm chirped as he was adjusting his tricorder, and Victoria sighed with relief when she heard a voice say the lifter had arrived to remove the patient from where she was trapped.

"Less talking and more moving now," said the paramedic. He was scanning her vitals as he stood, and he looked worried again. "Hey, is that a prosthetic?"

Victoria managed a smirk even as the pain finally made her close her eyes and flop back down onto the ground. "Never said it was one," she muttered before she blacked out again.