This was not Vulcan ship.
James Tiberius Kirk's astute senses told him that this room, even under the guise of darkness looking as though it had suffered an explosion, was indeed, not a Vulcan ship. Perhaps the first clue was the disarray of clothes draped over a chair, or perhaps it was the huge piles of books that littered the sides of the bed. Or possibly it might just have been the retro alarm clock that wasn't retro at all, given the date it proclaimed; "27th October 2015". That wasn't a star date.

"Sulu," hissed Kirk, "How long ago was 2015?" The equally puzzled looking Sulu twisted to look at his captain. He shrugged, and furrowed his brow.

"Like, 24…3? Years ago?" He suggested. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
Kirk swore under his breath. This was definitely NOT a Vulcan ship. He twisted, getting a good look around the room. It was quite small- very small in fact- plain, most of the walls appeared to be bare. It was a complete mess though, admittedly, a path from each of the two doors to the bed had been artfully crafted.

"Who the hell are you?" Demanded a voice from behind the Star Fleet officers. Sulu and Kirk spun around, phasers out and pointed at the small figure stood in the doorway, bag slung over her shoulder. Glasses pushed up on to the top of her head, she stared at the two men in her room. Sulu immediately lowered his weapon, however, Kirk paused for a second longer. She stared at the men, unflinchingly. "I'm not repeating myself," She insisted, striding into her room, and flicking the light switch. "My room, my rules. My questions get answered."

"Keptin?" Crackled a voice through Kirk's comms. "Keptin, where… where are you?"

"Chekov?" Kirk girl sat on her bed and stared at him, incredulously.

"Oi!" She demanded. She was ignored. Again.

"Chekov! We…" Kirk glanced around the room, "I think we're in the past." Another voice, calmer, more controlled, began to speak over the Russian accent. Hearing this extra voice, the girl rolled her eyes and grabbed the forearm of the blonde man. She dragged him to face her, and repeated her question, yet was spoken over.

"Can you beam us back?" Kirk asked, doubt and disbelief edging his words.

"I think so, Keptin!"

"Then do it!"

"We're gonna die," mumbled Sulu under his breath, as a pale light juttered into existence around them. The girl, still holding on to Kirk's arm, gaped at them as they seemed to be swallowed by the light.

This was not her room.
The room was largely empty, with only a control desk standing behind a glass panel, and even more strangers. She raised a hand as people started to speak, her arm trembling as she spoke over them.

"Right, I don't know who you lot are, and I don't really care at this point. But could someone tell me for the love of God… what the hell is happening?!" Her voice rose in a crescendo to a panicked squeak. Feeling her own pulse race into a frenzy, she tried to slow her breathing- dissolving into a panic attack would not help her. "Because you may have ignored me when you invaded my room, but if I, for some bizarre reason, am going to be taken hostage then I want to know why," gulping down air, and staring at each of the people in the room in turn, she glowered at the unknown. McCoy reached towards her, and she flinched backwards, flinging her glasses from her head and causing them to fall to the floor in a clatter. It was deafening in the room.

"Captain," Spock commanded the attention of both Kirk and the girl, as they both turned to look at him. One with weariness, one with frightened hostility.

"Perhaps it would be prudent to return to the bridge, and allow Dr McCoy to explain to…" he gestured to the girl "the child, her circumstances?" Kirk nodded and walked out of the room without another word, merely a concerned glance back to the girl. Slowly the room emptied until only the girl, McCoy and a singular red shirt remained. McCoy and the girl stood in a stare-off. McCoy blinked first.

"Do we know why that," Kirk gestured back towards the transporter room, "happened?" Spock raised an eyebrow and spoke slowly,

"It is my belief that in your attempt to transport across to the Vulcan ship you passed over a crack in the skin of time and space," he replied to his captain, preparing himself for the onslaught of disbelief that would surely follow. "Mr Scott has already confirmed my theory in his analysis of the… disturbance." Kirk raised an eyebrow.

"A crack? Sure. Why not," he muttered under his breath. "Plausible."

"A spaceship," She repeated. McCoy nodded. She let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head.

"Technically the term is starship," McCoy corrected, with a sly smirk. The girl rolled her eyes and muttered a sardonic apology. McCoy could feel he was going to like this girl. "What's your name?" He finally asked, "Didn't really get a chance to ask when you threw your hissy fit at us." The girl sighed and looked up at McCoy. With a look of utter dejection, she seemed to debate over whether or not to respond.


"Is that your real name?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Hannah responded, the first hint of a smile breaking her shell of disbelief and fear.

Kirk listened to Scotty and Spock explain to him the 'crack' and he could honestly say he understood maybe three words of what they had said.

"Did you just say the fabric of space and time is cracked?" A dry voice asked from one of the many doorways that open on to the bridge. "You're no gonna tell me that Dr Who is real as well, are you?" Hannah raised an eyebrow at them.

"Scottish? Captain, you never told me she was Scottish!" Scotty beamed. "But no, I'm afraid he is very much fictional." Kirk watched the conversation which didn't make anymore sense to him than the previous one about dark matter, and corruption of something-or-other. Hannah grinned at the puzzled look on Kirk's face, and stared around the room. When her eyes fell again on the commanders standing in the middle of the Bridge, she frowned at their solemn gazes. Scotty had gone from delighted upon hearing her accent to sorrowful, and Kirk watched the young woman with a furrowed brow.

"As I understand it, this rupture, crack, thing," Kirk began eloquently as always, "has closed. Even if we attempted to send you back to your home, neither Spock here, nor Scotty believe that it would be…" he trailed off.

"Successful," supplied Spock. Scotty began to form words yet a swift elbow to his ribs caused him to close his mouth again. Hannah blinked. And then she swallowed. Understanding dawned slowly on her face, and she turned and walked out. McCoy, having somehow become her unofficial guardian, swiftly followed her out.

Hannah had sat, staring at walls, in the Med Bay for nearly an hour before Kirk interrupted her solitary vigil. She didn't speak as he sat down next to her, nor did he. McCoy slowly retreated into the furtherest-most part of the med bay and busied himself with nothing. Finally, Kirk broke the silence that shrouded them.

"I'm sorry," he stated simply. When Hannah turned to look at him, the hard lines that had dragged her brow down into an angered frown softened. Her eyes rounded from fury to sorrow, beginning to glisten with unshed tears.

"For what," despite her distinctly tearful state, Hannah's voice was steady, the words seemingly forming into solids in the air. "The kidnapping me, and moving me not only off my own world but out of my own timeline, or are you sorry that now you're stuck with me and have to wrestle with your own conscience every time you see me?" Her words were direct, and cutting. Her mournful eyes were hard behind their veil of tears, and Kirk was taken aback by the hostility of her words.

"Both?" He suggested, trying a smile at her. She didn't return the gesture. Hannah brushed a hand aimlessly through her thick hair, her hair immediately falling forwards into its original position. Meeting Kirk's gaze yet again, Hannah huffed out something that almost resembled a laugh. Lowering her defence of hostility, she brushed a palm over an eye, blurring the remnants of mascara with the half-formed tears that had threatened to burst from the dams of her eyelashes moments ago.

"So,"she tried, "You're the captain?" Kirk waited to see whether he should swell with pride or whether it was his turn to turn to hostility as a defence. "Glad to know I was stolen by a high ranking officer. Would have preferred an Admiral, or even better a General."

"We don't have Generals-" Kirk began, but he was not allowed a chance to finish before Hannah cut across him.

"-No, of course not. That's the Army, you're using Navy terminology," She reasoned, with a wry smile. Only now did Kirk realise this deadpan tone was her messing with him. He let a small laugh, which caused Hannah to break into small bubbles of laughter. "Did you think I was being serious about the 'kidnapping' still?"

"Well, we did. Kidnap you I mean- accidentally," Kirk spluttered out, and Hannah's smirk only broadened into a grin. "I'm Kirk, by the way. Jim Kirk."


Hannah swung her feet off the edge of the medical bay as she read from the oversized textbook. McCoy sneaked a look over at her, trying to read the cover of her book. As she looked up, he turned away, returning his gaze to the monitor in front of him. Catching the end of his sudden jerk back down, she smiled, and returned to reading her own book. McCoy paused before he glanced back up.


"What?" McCoy feigned surprise. Hannah grinned at the detailed diagram of the muscles in the hand. Still swinging her legs like a child, Hannah continued to 'read' her textbook.

"It's a textbook on anatomy. I study Bio-Med," Hannah paused, tilted her head, then reiterated. "I studied Bio-Med." McCoy raised his eyebrow, seemingly approvingly. Hannah didn't need to look up to know that he was watching her, and so the young woman pointed turned the page, tilting her head to feign deep immersion in the text. McCoy pushed his chair back, the scraping noise filling the room with noise. "Do you mind, I'm trying to revise," She taunted lightly. McCoy threw a PADD at her. It collided with her upper arm, and Hannah looked down at it as though it had committed a great infraction against humanity.

"This might be better," He offered, yanking the textbook out of her hands. Hannah quirked an eyebrow, inviting McCoy to indulge her. "It's my anatomy notes. When I studied at Star Fleet." Hannah grinned, and picked up the rectangle of metal and glass. She inspected it slowly, tapping the screen experimentally. McCoy turned to return to his desk, and Hannah burst out in hysterics.

"What is this drawing? Is it a heart or a turd?" She giggled. McCoy spun to look at the drawing. Striding back to her, he looked at the drawing also.

"I'm a doctor not an artist," He muttered. He sulked away back in the direction of his desk for the second, only to be disturbed by another bought of laughter.

"And hooo boy, 'Commander Lewis' is not your favourite person is she?"

Spock sat alone at the table in the Mess Hall, reading something from his PADD as he ate. He was a solemn and sober looking individual, merely sat there, content with his own company. Whilst alone, he was not lonely, merely enjoying the solitude he so rarely achieved on this hectic ship. A throat cleared itself, pulling his gaze up. Hannah gave an awkward half-wave with a single hand, the other one holding a plate.

"Hi," She greeted, with a tentative smile. "It was…Spock? Right?" Her smile wavered hesitantly as Spock looked at her, curiosity seeping through his mask of calmness.

"That is my name," He confirmed. Hannah's smile returned to her face, with more certainty. She glanced down at the seat adjacent to him, and Spock, noting the glance, invited her to sit. She did so with a quick glance around the Mess Hall. Spock returned to reading his PADD, barely reading half a sentence before Hannah interrupted him again.

"Sorry," she began, chewing on the inside of her lip, clearly ill at ease with the ship. "Would you mind if I asked you a few questions- if you're busy it's completely fine, they aren't important. -Just everything here is so strange, and I-" She broke off suddenly.

"I am not busy, please, ask anything you wish," Spock allowed. Hannah visibly sagged with relief. She let out a breath that she had been unconsciously holding, and leant forwards on to the table, weigh on her elbows in a manner that would have caused her Grandmother to clip her round the ear.

"Please, if I say anything that is offensive, correct me. I don't wish to cause offence, but obviously I am not in my own time zone so if I do it is entirely accidental," She took a breath to force herself not to spray words out like vomit after a particularly dramatic night out. Spock nodded, in his characteristically formal manner. Hannah paused, opening her mouth. Then shut it abruptly. She glanced down at the meal in front of her and then asked her plate of food:

"You're not human?"

"Whilst I believe that is a statement, not a question," Spock began, Hannah winced an apology before he continued. "However, you are correct in your observation, I am not, fully, human."

"But you are partially?"

"Indeed. My mother was human, and my father, a Vulcan." Hannah nodded, as if that meant something to her. Spock decided to remove the need for her to ask her next question and began to indulge her in details of his species- down to their near extinction. Hannah stared at him in fascination as he explained his culture, his home. Amidst her wonder, she ate her meal slowly, never taking her eyes off the commander, nor listening to anything other than the rich tales he was telling her.

When Spock was finished, Hannah stared at him for a moment longer. She dragged her eyes away from this man that seemed to be familiar and yet represented everything that was different about this world she had stumbled upon. She looked across at the windows that stretched the whole length of the room. Outside there was nothing but blackness, only broken by the odd fleck of light. Suddenly, she burst out with:

"I wonder we've adapted differently,"

"Forgive me, I don't-"

"Well, obviously species of bacteria and viruses would have changed from my time to yours," Hannah explained quickly. Spock nodded curtly. "So that means you'll-and the humans on board this ship- have antibodies that are different from mine, and so diseases that are basically harmless to me might be seriously harmful to the Captain and others. And vice versa." She chirped out the facts happily, as though she had not just informed him a common cold could wipe out half the ship. Spock tilted his head, considering her musings.

"Whilst that is entirely possible, and I believe Dr McCoy will need to vaccinate you against many of our common illnesses, I doubt that you will trigger a widespread infection," He reasoned. Hannah turned back to him and laughed lightly.

"Well, we shall see," She grinned.

"What do you think of Hannah?" Kirk asked. McCoy glanced up from the monitor, briefly darting his eyes heavenwards in a silent plea to every god he knew of to allow him just five minutes without an interruption, before he returned to his monitor.

"I like her," McCoy said simply. Kirk peered at him, searching his face intensely. McCoy's head snapped up and sent a glare to Kirk that spoke all the threats he didn't speak. Kirk, immune to his friend's glower, continued to peruse his face in a hunt for a clue. McCoy closed the report that did not seem to want to be written, and turned to give Kirk his full attention. "Well, she's sarcastic, confident, and understands when I say not to touch things it means don't fiddle with and then break them." This time Kirk got the not-so-subtle hint.

"It was only a tricorder,"

"Maybe I'll only break your nose," McCoy retorted under his breath. Kirk raised an eyebrow in search of more information. "What do you want me to tell you, Jim? I've known the kid all of five hours, I'm not her best friend."

"Nah. They've all been dead for what 250 years?" Chirped a voice from the doorway. Hannah leant on the wall just next to the door, and the smirk on her face told Kirk she'd heard more than enough of the conversation. "And Dr McCoy, shame on you. Do doctor-patient privileges not exist any longer?" She raised an eyebrow elegantly, causing McCoy's brow to furrow.

"You're not my patient,"

"Apparently now I am. Spock suggested I get vetted. Like a rabid dog," Hannah was evidently enjoying herself. Kirk groaned and muttered something involving the words 'another' 'metaphors' 'shoot me now'. Hannah beamed, and even McCoy smothered an amused smirk at the disgruntled Captain. Hannah handed a PADD to McCoy and he skimmed through them lightly, before beginning to rummage around for the vaccines. Hannah swiftly stole his chair. Kirk watched her with amusement, which only grew as he saw the armful of vaccines McCoy had gathered for her. Hannah's face drooped as she saw the mounting pile of vaccines.

"I hate needles," She gawked at them in fear.

"Same," Sympathised Kirk, before smirking at her. "But I've had all mine, so enjoy."