– V –
Xylion had quite effortlessly swooped up the unconscious young woman and brought her into the back compartment of the runabout where they had placed her into a cot.
“Other than a few scrapes, she seems uninjured,” said Srena who was running a medical tricorder of her still body, the slight rise and fall of her chest giving proof that she was indeed alive.
“Can you verify her race?” asked Deen who stood close by and like the others had been unable to take her eyes off the mystery woman.
“Oh, she’s definitely Vulcan. According to this she’s about nineteen or twenty years old,” the Andorian said.
“How can this be?” said Leva, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest.
Srena shot him a look and shrugged, obviously this was not a question her tricorder could answer.
“Are you able to wake her?” Xylion wanted to know.
“Wait a minute,” said Deen and stepped closer. “Are we sure that’s a good idea? We don’t have the slightest clue who she is or how she came to be here.”
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “Precisely. The only person who can answer those questions is her.”
“I agree with Xylion,” the tactical officer added. “Besides, it’s obvious she’s already seen us. She was watching us while we were disembarking the runabout.”
“Yes, and scared her half to death. Literally,” said Deen.
“Wake her, Ensign,” the Vulcan said.
Srena aimed a quick look at the still skeptical Deen but then retrieved a hypo-spray, checked the content and then applied it to the woman’s neck where it emptied into her system with a little hiss.
It didn’t take long for the girl in the white dress to stir. Then she uttered a little moan and reached for her head.
The four Starfleet officers watched quietly and with obvious anticipation as she slowly recovered from her fall.
“Perhaps you should attempt to speak to her first, Lieutenant,” Xylion said.
“Let the people person break the ice, I get it,” she said and took a small step towards the cot.
The Vulcan woman opened her eyes and not a moment later jerked up into a sitting position, clearly disturbed as to where she found herself.
“Hello there. Don’t be alarmed,” said Deen with her most charming smile which usually managed to break just about any kind of tension she faced. “You’re on a Starfleet—“
That’s as far she got. The woman was on her feet instantly and before even appraising her situation, she struck out at the first person she saw. And she did so with surprising quickness and strength, hitting the totally unprepared Deen right under her chin and sending her crashing to the floor.
“Whoa, easy there,” Srena said, palms facing the startled woman.
But the short Andorian was also unprepared for the woman’s ferocity and was promptly shoved harshly into the bulkhead, causing her to groan in pain by the sudden impact.
Once passed Srena, she vaulted over the table in the middle of the room to get to the back of the runabout and the large viewports which offered her a view she was likely more familiar with. She pressed herself against the transparent aluminum but quickly found that she would not be able to escape through there.
She whirled back around and found a door at the opposite side of the room, almost leaping towards it.
“We are trying to help you,” said Leva who stepped up to the door to block her way.
She spun around again so suddenly that she lost her balance and fell to the floor only to jump back up and head into the opposite direction. She ran right into a brick wall. Or at least that’s what it must have felt for her when she bumped into Xylion who hardly moved from the impact at all. The woman landed by his feet.
The science officer reached down, picked her up by her shoulders and pulled her up almost effortlessly. “You are Vulcan,” he said.
She didn’t fight his strong grip, instead she simply stared back at him, almost as if she recognized this stranger.
Xylion let her go when she was back on her feet and she made no more apparent attempts to run.
“I am … Vulcan,” she said gingerly. “What … are you?”
He considered her for a moment. Then he raised his hand to offer the traditional salute of his people. “I am as well.”
She looked at the hand gesture curiously and then tried to emulate it but her small fingers didn’t quite get the v-shape right.
He noticed her difficulty. “Fascinating.”
“Who … who are you?” she said.
“I am Lieutenant Commander Xylion, chief science officer of the Starfleet vessel USS Eagle
. We mean you no harm. There is no need for you to be afraid.”
“I am not
“Could have fooled me,” said Leva and tended to Deen, helping her back on her feet even while she rubbed her bruised chin.
“These are my colleagues,” said Xylion. “They were trying to help you.”
The woman looked around to see, perhaps for the first time, the chaos she had caused, including knocking down two of the strangers as well as equipment and a fruit bowl which had stood on the table she had leaped over.
“While your actions may have been explicable,” Xylion continued, “they were entirely unwarranted.”
“I second that,” Deen mumbled, still unable to open her jaw fully after the blow she’d taken.
“What is your name?” the science officer asked.
The woman turned back to consider Xylion. “Tela.”
“How did you get to be on this planet?”
She looked confused by that question.
Leva stepped closer carefully. “Tela, my name is So’Dan. Where are you from? Where do you live?”
“Are you Vulcan as well?” she asked him, noticing the similarly shaped ears.
He smirked. “Not quite. But I can see how one can make that mistake.”
She nodded. “This is my home.”
“You live here?” said Deen who had replicated a small ice bag which she now kept pressed against her chin.
Tela seemed suddenly disturbed and took a couple of steps towards the Tenarian. “I have hurt you,” she said.
She waved it off. “I’ve had worse.”
Leva offered a dry smile. “But getting hit in the face is not the reaction DeMara is used to.”
Deen aimed a dark look into his direction.
The young woman noticed the pilot next.
The Andorian tried to be as cavalier about it and offered a smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it. My name is Srena by the way.”
Tela nodded slowly.
“You were telling us that you live here,” said Deen. “Where exactly?”
“We have a village about an hour’s walk from here.”
Xylion seemed intrigued. “How many Vulcans live there?”
She looked back at him and considered that question as if it sounded entirely odd to her. “We are all Vulcans.”
“I don’t know about you guys,” said Deen, her jaw clearly doing a lot better now, “but I think I want to see that.”