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The cargo bay came into focus slowly, like he was blinking away the last memories of a dream. Pike took in the cavernous space, the stacks of containers, the faint smell of metal, the dim lights overhead. This wasn’t the bridge. He didn’t remember coming here. He didn’t remember what he was just doing.
Around him stood Uhura, Spock, Mitchell, and a handful of others, all wearing the same stunned expression. The silence stretched until Pike broke it.
“Please tell me someone remembers how we got here?” His voice echoed through the cavernous bay.
Heads shook. Murmurs of “No” and “I… last remember…” floated from the group.
Spock stepped forward, his voice calm, precise, choosing logic over panic. “We were in the nebula. The ship was immobilized. That is my last memory before this…dislocation.”
Pike’s gaze narrowed. The pieces clicked together, memory catching up with the situation. The nebula, the ship immobilized. His heart lurched. Erica.
He remembered the sudden lurch of the ship, the crack of her head against the console before she collapsed to the floor unconscious.
“Lieutenant Ortegas,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “Where is she?”
No one had an answer. The realization chilled him.
He went to the nearest communications panel and tapped the controls. “Sickbay, this is Pike.”
“Chapel.”
“Do you have Lieutenant Ortegas in sickbay?”
“No,” Christine stated with a worried tone. “It is just me. Captain, I don’t remember the past few hours.
“You are not alone,” he replied, forcing calm into his tone. “Stay put, Christine. We’ll figure this out.”
He opened shipwide comms, “This is Captain Pike. There’s been an unknown incident aboard the Enterprise resulting in a loss of time. All crew report to quarters. Critical personnel to stations only. Let’s keep this ship steady until we understand what happened.”
The officers around him straightened instinctively at his command tone. “Spock, Uhura - bridge. Move us clear of the nebula, carefully. Everyone else, start a full personnel sweep. I want everyone accounted for.”
As the group dispersed, Pike allowed himself one long breath. The steady hum of the cargo bay seemed louder now, pressing in. He squared his shoulders, the image of Erica crumpled against her console still sharp in his mind. Whatever had just happened, he’d make sure she, and everyone else, made it through.
---
With Rukiya gone, free, alive, living a lifetime in moments with the entity, the ship felt hollow to Joseph. Silent, but not peaceful. The hum of the life support systems was almost intrusive now, a reminder that everything else still breathed while his quarters felt frozen in place.
Pike's voice sounded over the comms, “This is Captain Pike. There has been an unknown incident aboard the Enterprise resulting in a loss of time. All crew report to quarters. Critical personnel to stations only. Let’s keep this ship steady until we understand what happened.”
Hemmer moved to leave Joseph’s quarters, he would be needed in engineering to check the systems, when he paused. “Joseph!” He called out.
The engineer was already kneeling, his pale antennae twitching. Then Joseph saw what had pulled his attention, Erica Ortegas, sprawled in the corridor just outside his quarters, one hand curled loosely near the wall as if she’d tried to catch herself. A sluggish trail of blood ran from her temple into her hairline.
M’Benga dropped to her side in an instant, scanning. The readout flickered, confirming what his eyes already knew. “She was injured before,” he said, breath catching as he tried to make sense of it. “That’s why I was going to the bridge.”
Hemmer’s tone softened, still pragmatic, still steady, “Then we take her now.” Without waiting for a reply, he lifted her with practiced care, the gesture gentler than his usual blunt demeanor suggested.
“Careful,” Joseph warned, one hand still guiding. “Head trauma. Keep her level.”
They moved quickly through the quiet corridors, both too focused to speak.
---
The sickbay doors hissed open. Christine Chapel was already there, relief and worry flickering across her face. She’d been waiting for news, M’Benga could see that in the way her shoulders eased the moment they appeared.
“Pike was looking for her,” Christine explained, stepping forward to help them guide Erica onto a biobed.
“She was outside the doctor’s quarters,” Hemmer said shortly. He hesitated then, antennae twitching once more toward Erica before adding, “They’ll need me in engineering.”
“We’re good here. I’ll let you know,” M’Benga responded before Hemmer slipped out.
Christine began prepping instruments, quiet efficiency masking concern. M’Benga ran a tricorder over Erica’s still form. “Hairline fracture of the skull,” he murmured. “Likely concussion. Vitals are stable.” He let out a long breath, the weight of the day pressing into his spine.
“It’s not nothing,” Christine said softly, placing a blanket over Erica.
“No,” Joseph agreed. “But it’s not a tragedy either. We’ll take small mercies where we can.”
The hum of sickbay filled the silence again, steady, alive, and painfully ordinary.
---
Christine stayed by Erica’s side, eyes flicking between readouts and Erica’s face. The loss of time gnawed at her, a cold, creeping uncertainty she couldn’t shake, but she forced herself to focus on what she could control: the steady rhythm of Erica’s pulse, the way her breaths shifted as she stirred.
Christine's precise movements felt like they were needed to keep her safe. Every detail mattered. Every tiny adjustment felt like a tether, grounding them both.
Erica shifted, brow furrowing, before her eyes fluttered open. Confusion clouded the gaze at first with a slow awareness settling in. Christine’s hand moved instinctively, placing a steadying touch on Erica’s arm. “Hey there,” she said softly, voice gentle, calm. “You’re in sickbay. You’re safe.”
Erica’s hand flew to her temple, wincing. “What… happened?” Her voice was raw, almost fragile, but threaded with determination.
“You hit your head,” Christine said, careful to keep her tone light while carrying authority. “Concussion and a hairline fracture. What do you remember?”
“I… I don’t remember anything after the nebula,” Erica admitted, a trace of panic brushing the edge of her words, quickly tempered by her own resolve. “We were trying to move, but warp wasn’t working… switched the impulse…”
Christine offered a reassuring smile, “That’s fine. You’re safe now. How do you feel?”
“Like I have the worst headache of my life and no fun story to go with it,” Erica muttered, the faint ghost of a grin tugging at her lips. Christine let out a small laugh, the sound soft and full of relief. “I can give you something, just for the pain.” Erica nodded. She pressed the hypospray gently to Erica’s neck. The light hiss of treatment was almost mundane, but comforting, normal.
Joseph stepped closer, giving a glance to both of them. “How’s our pilot?”
“Wishing I could go sleep in my quarters,” Erica said, her voice taut with exhaustion but threaded with a stubborn humor.
“In time,” he replied kindly, voice steady, anchoring. “We just need to monitor you a little longer. You gave us quite a scare.”
Erica blinked slowly at that, the rare softness in her expression allowing her guard to drop, even for a moment. “Didn’t mean to,” she murmured, a small exhale escaping her lips, the tension in her shoulders easing fractionally.
Christine’s eyes lingered on her, scanning for lingering pain, but also watching for the familiar spark of resilience. She let her hand rest lightly on Erica’s, a quiet reassurance that she was not alone.
---
Una’s footsteps were soft against the deck, careful not to shatter the quiet of sickbay, though right now that quiet was fragile and mostly for one patient: Erica. The stillness felt heavy, as though it might snap at any second under the weight of what had just happened. She smoothed her uniform with deliberate care, straightening lines that had been tugged askew by hours of tension, a small ritual to steady herself before approaching.
Nodding politely at Christine, who was monitoring Erica’s vitals with that quiet intensity, she stepped closer, her gaze finally settling on Erica.
“Lieutenant,” Una said quietly, voice calm, even, but threaded with relief.
Erica’s wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, fingers brushing at her temple. “Head hurts. Pretty sure the captain will come by to lecture me on bridge safety, but…” She waved one hand vaguely, “…less talking is better right now.”
Una’s lips twitched, a hint of a smile beneath her composed exterior. Relief flowed through her, tempered by her sense of responsibility. “I am glad you are okay. The ship is moving, at warp, away from the nebula.”
Erica let out a slow breath, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Good. That’s the important part. Did we figure out what happened?”
“Not yet,” Una replied, instinctually glancing over toward Joseph’s office. She watched Erica closely as she shifted, catching the tiny wince as she adjusted her head. Even in vulnerability, Erica radiated that spark of pride and independence, a reminder of why she was such an anchor for the crew.
Una lingered for a moment longer, her own thoughts quiet, silently cataloging these signs of resilience. “I’ll leave you to rest,” she said finally, her tone measured but carrying the weight of unspoken concern. “Just wanted to check in.”
Erica gave a tired nod, the faintest grin tugging at her lips. “Thanks. Really. For coming by. Means a lot.”
Una allowed herself a brief, private smile before turning on her heel. Her steps were measured, calm, but careful. She paused briefly to exchange a few words with Joseph, before leaving the sickbay.
---
Erica left sickbay, moving slowly, each step deliberate. Her body felt like it belonged to someone else, stiff in places she hadn’t realized were sore, every movement a reminder of the impact she’d taken. Christine had insisted she take it easy, and Erica, for once, intended to follow orders, not because she liked it, but because she understood the point.
“Erica?”
Pike’s voice broke through her haze, calm but firm, rounding the corner with that easy authority that could ground a crew in the midst of chaos. She straightened a little, more out of habit than readiness.
“Sir, I swear I’m following orders. Sickbay kicked me out,” she said, trying for levity.
“Head still scrambled?” he asked, one brow raised, as if reading more than the words she’d spoken.
“A couple days of rest, they said. But I think my brain’s still on permanent scrambled mode,” she replied with a small, crooked grin.
Pike’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second. “We’ll hold down the bridge,” he promised, but there was a weight in his tone, an unspoken acknowledgment of everything she had just endured.
“Can’t promise the ship won’t start missing me,” she quipped, a spark of her usual bravado returning, trying to push back against the lingering adrenaline that made her chest feel tight.
“I’m sure it will,” Pike said warmly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Even the best pilots need downtime.”
Erica exhaled slowly, letting the tension in her shoulders drain away, finally allowing herself a little surrender to the moment. She noticed the hum of the ship beneath her feet, the faint vibration in the deck panels, and let herself feel its steady presence, almost protective.
“Understood, Captain. Rest mode activated,” she said, voice lighter now, a small but genuine smile creeping in. For the first time since the nebula, she felt the weight on her chest lessen, replaced by a fragile but undeniable sense of safety. And for once, she didn’t have to be the one keeping everything together.
Today, she let herself simply be Erica Ortegas.