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Darkness pressed in tight around her. The air was thick, acrid, moist. La’an tried to breathe over the stench; it was familiar, but she wasn’t able to place it. She tried to move, but something held her tightly, burning against her skin.
Through this her mother’s voice came through. Like a dream as her body struggled to make sense of what was happening, “La’an, be brave.”
She hadn’t even dreamed of her mother in years; it felt wrong to have something so comforting pop into her head.
Not believing you’re gonna die is what gets you killed.
This wasn’t right. Her mind flashed, they were on the planet. They were there to try to save the colonists. They were being teleported—
She knew this. She knew the smell…the sounds. It’s the Gorn. She could see her brother, the one who had helped save her before.
“Wake up,” she voiced quietly, trying to force her body to do so. “Wake up!”
Still not fully aware of the situation, she pushed forward against the thing holding her. Her hand crashed through a membrane. She tore herself out, not quite grasping what was happening, falling to the ground and then through a gap in the floor. She just barely grabbed onto the edge, slick with whatever was surrounding her in the pod.
Her panic and determination were her only companions right now. She was not going to fall; she was not going to die. Muscles tight, nearly slipping back down, she hauled herself up and rolled onto the surface.
She was on a Gorn ship, unlike anything she had seen before. The air was warm, filled with their stench, but encompassing her was something worse, the smell of melting flesh, rotten in the air.
She took stock of her surroundings. Around her were pods, connecting from the ceiling to the floor, and inside were bodies. She had been with Erica, M’Benga, and Sam when she was taken. She looked around, seeing the three of them suspended, unconscious. Around her were others, the colonists.
She suddenly felt her own injuries coming through, but she pushed that thought down. Steadying herself with a deep breath; she could not panic. Right now she was the one who had to take control.
“You can do this,” she whispered. Finding her confidence she assessed the situation, “Always start with the doctor.”
Her hands found the sac with M’Benga and tore it. When it gave, he dropped out hard, coughing, eyes unfocused. It took him a moment to get his bearings.
He blinked up at her, “Lieutenant?”
“We need to get Erica and Sam,” Her voice was commanding. When she had been young and taken by the Gorn, she had no power. She was not that same person anymore. This time she was in charge.
La’an went for Erica as M’Benga began tearing out Sam.
As she ripped through the membrane, Erica fell out, stumbling down, coughing and in pain. Dazed and uncertain, La’an looked her over; she was worse, more injured, hand in particular, burned, missing fingers.
As Erica took stock of the situation she panicked, “Holy crap, my hand! Half my hand is frickin’ gone.”
La’an cared about her, worried about her injuries, but right now she needed to calm down and focus if they were going to get out of this. La’an grabbed Erica’s shoulders, trying to ground her.
“Look at me. Erica, look at me. Look at me. Relax.” She caught her eyes, trying to center her. La’an needed to keep this team together. She knew they all would need to be functional if they had any possibility of escape.
M’Benga stepped away from Sam, scanning Erica’s arm and injuries, trying to comfort her, “We can fix this when we get back to the ship.”
“Please. Okay,” Erica managed.
“Try to stay calm.”
“Okay.”
La’an looked around, surveying, taking stock of the situation. There were too many pods there and for all they knew there were possibly others elsewhere.
She pushed away the words of the others for a moment. They were a sea of concern she couldn‘t focus on.
Finally Sam’s assessment of their situation broke through, “This is a massive digestion chamber. And it’s working its way through…looks like a-a processing plant for fuel.”
M’Benga speculated, “Or just food for the Gorn.”
Not believing you’re gonna die is what gets you killed. But she looked at them a bit differently now. The Gorn would kill her, given the chance, but she wasn’t going to allow that to happen. And she wasn’t going to let that happen to her team
Erica tried to push down her panic, “I don’t like the idea of being anyone’s lunch. And even if we can wake them up, one or a hundred, we still don’t have a way out of…wherever this is.” She grimaced in pain.
As the voices of the others overlapped again, La’an could feel her own panic and worry growing a bit.
She flashed back to being a child, captured by the Gorn before. “They’re coming.” Her brother looked at her, comforting her. “Don’t be afraid.”
M’Benga noticed La’an disconnected from the conversation. “La’an.”
Manu’s voice in her head said, “No matter what.” She could not be afraid. Fear would only get them killed.
M’Benga went to her. “La’an. What’s on your mind, Lieutenant.”
La’an suddenly heard Pike’s words from a previous time they had faced the Gorn. We survive this by working together. They had a team here, and she knew that Pike and Una and the whole Enterprise were out there somewhere trying to save them.
She straightened, setting her shoulders. “You’re right,” she said, voice clear and deliberate. “It’s not just about us. All these people will be dead soon.” She needed to hold on to her control, needed to be steady for all of them.
Sam pointed to a different feature, “Hey. This looks like an evacuation pile. Maybe whatever the ship can’t process, it expels.” He reached into the goo and pulled something metallic free, a phaser rifle.
“Ah. Weapons from a crap pile,” Erica observed, working to stay calm.
La’an took the gun, “Strangely, it’s a step in the right direction. I don’t want to save a handful of colonists,” her voice growing in confidence, “I want to save them all. Everyone that’s still alive gets home. Even if we have to shoot our way out.”
She was confident; she believed she could do it, and that confidence brought others along with her. Right now they could hold onto that belief in her.
M’Benga tightened his grip on his phaser. Sam nodded once, curtly. Even Erica straightened, her jaw set despite the pain.
La’an allowed herself a single breath, the smallest exhale of satisfaction. Fear hadn’t vanished, but it finally knew its place. It no longer led her, but rather followed behind.
“Let’s move,” she said. “There is nothing more here, we need to find a way out or a way to communicate with Enterprise.”
They walked and talked. They needed to get transport codes, communicate with Enterprise, and get off this ship.
---
As they rounded a corner, a hangar opened up before them, rows of Gorn ships waiting. Before it, organically shaped devices, control panels of some sort.
“There’s the hangar. Okay. Everyone's clear on the plan?” Her voice cut the quiet, small, but precise and focused.
Sam summarized the plan, “Access the ship’s mainframe, upload the Gorn transporter codes…”
M’Benga jumped in, “Get them to the Enterprise.”
La’an let the sentence anchor, then looked to Erica. The pilot’s jaw was set, but the pain in her hand made her breath come out in small bursts, “To do that, we have to steal a ship and fly it out of here.”
The hangar bay was quiet, if anything unnervingly so. “That one doesn’t look guarded,” M’Benga gestured.
“Totally got this, not impossible at all,” Erica stated as if trying to build herself up. La’an could see it. Right then Erica was both critical and their weakest link, the injury and her panic threatening to take over.
La’an watched Erica’s hands flex; watched the small tremors she tried to hide. She had seen that look before, the way someone forced themselves to be a bright thing even when inside the world had gone dark. She needed Erica; she needed a pilot who could take them out. Who could fly the impossible. So La’an leaned into the small lies that made courage possible.
“And it’s true you can fly anything, right?” she said, trying for lightness. She needed to lift Erica, to give her permission to be confident.
“Don’t be rude. Of course I can,” Erica shot back, voice sharper than La’an expected. Not confidence so much as refusal to be dismissed.
“Okay. Let’s get to that ship,” La’an stated, her voice steady and determined. They would do this; she would get them out of here. She would make sure the colonists, as many as possible, survived.
Erica was clearly apprehensive. Sam encouragingly nodded for her to come.
“This is a good plan. It’s gonna work.” Erica kept talking, not to any of them, but to herself. “It’s good, it’s…it’s…It’s a good plan, right?”
“It’s a good plan,” M’Benga said firmly.
La’an felt Erica’s fear, apprehension. While this was by far the worst La’an had experienced on a landing party, she was used to it. Erica piloted the ship; this was far out of her comfort zone, and it showed. But there was no other option.
“Yeah, yeah. Now all we have to do is not get caught by the Gorn,” Sam added, half-joking, half-real.
The silence of the ship snapped apart with a low, wet Gorn growl reverberating through the metal.
“Sam,” La’an said. It came out sharper than she intended. Bad timing. Bad omen.
“Why would you say that?” Erica asked accusingly.
“What? Oh, come on, you can’t blame me,” Sam deflected.
La’an’s jaw locked. No time for bickering. No room for fear. “Phasers to kill. Time to go.”
They moved fast but careful, hugging the edges of the hangar, toward what looked like a command alcove. The darkness felt alive behind them. La’an’s grip on her phaser stayed firm. Failure wasn’t a possibility; it was a luxury none of them could afford.
Every nerve in her body stretched thin and alert.
Erica whispered, “Did we lose them?”
“Maybe,” M’Benga answered. “But if so, then not for long.”
La’an stepped toward the interface. Seeing it hit her like a blow. Familiar memories creeping in, ones she tried to push away, a hindrance in the past. “This is an interface,” she said. “They had them on the Gorn…the Gorn breeding planet. My brother Manu, he…”
The memory shoved itself to the front of her mind: Manu pushing her ahead, whispering Don’t be afraid. Keep moving.
For a heartbeat, she was small again. Powerless. Prey.
M’Benga moved to her side, quietly, steadying without drawing attention. “Hey, hey. Are you okay?”
She forced a nod.
“You’re here now, not back there.”
A breath, sharp and thin, then she looked at him, “Yeah, but here’s not great either, is it?”
“No, I suppose not,” he admitted.
La’an pressed her palms to the panel. “I remember. Let me try something.”
The interface bloomed to life beneath her touch, Gorn symbols crawling up into the air as dormant systems flared awake. Panels lit across the chamber, like a beast opening its many eyes.
“This is amazing,” Sam said. “I’d love to take this apart, figure out how it works.”
“Yeah, good idea. Let’s make a whole day of it. Get snacks, hang out,” Erica shot back, dry even through the pain.
“Those look like buffer signatures,” M’Benga murmured.
“They are. And the transport codes.” La’an lifted the portable module, feeling the weight of possibility settle into her hand. “If we can get this to the Enterprise, then we can save the colonists. All of them.”
For the first time, she felt the truth settle in her chest: she was not the child who had survived by luck. She was the officer who could save hundreds. Not so much hope, rather possibility, a chance to change the future like she couldn’t change the past.
A distant Gorn scream cut through the chamber, close, and getting closer.
“Guys…” Erica warned, her voice thinning as shadows moved. The creatures poured into the space.
Phasers lit the space in violent pulses. The Gorn fired back, driving them into cover.
“Get to the ship!” La’an shouted.
She pivoted and froze for half a heartbeat. A fully grown Gorn had crawled up behind her, silent. Too close. Too familiar. Her body obeyed instinct: don’t move. For half a moment she was that scared little girl again.
Sam moved first, fired into the creature, its mass slamming to the ground. He crumpled, stunned.
Erica charged forward, firing. Too close. La’an saw it coming a second before it happened. The Gorn’s claws carved into Erica’s midsection, cruelly lifting her up in the ground to dangle off its claws.
La’an ran, fast as she could move, sliding beneath the creature’s reach. She jammed her phaser rifle under its jaw and fired point-blank. The Gorn dropped. Dead.
Erica fell with it, crumpling, still. For a moment La’an feared the unacceptable. Failure. Then Erica drew in a shaky breath.
M’Benga hauled Sam to his feet. La’an paused for a moment as Erica began to stir, there was no option, no time for comfort, for triage. They needed to move now if there was any possibility of success.
La’an grabbed Erica, pulling her upright. Her legs barely held, but she moved. She moved. La’an fired back over her shoulder, dragging them all toward the only sliver of escape left.
---
It was a frantic and uneven dash to the Gorn ship. But, La’an knew that worry would get them killed. They had a plan. They had to make it happen. Keep moving, keep fighting, don’t stop.
When they reached the ship, La’an shot the control panel, sealing them inside. She hauled Erica in. Any fear she had of the Gorn was gone, replaced purely by determination, drive. They needed to finish this, to get the data to the enterprise, to save the colonists.
They were so close.
M’Benga dove for the controls, his fingers unsure on the alien interfaces. Erica, driven by a stubborn, furious will, forced herself upright, “The pilot seat. Put me in the pilot seat.”
When he hesitated she snapped this time, yelling in desperation, “Put me in the pilot seat!”
“Forget about it!” M’Benga barked, panic lacing his words. He couldn’t fly the ship, he knew it, but he could see the blood, see that Erica was barely standing. She needed medical help, not a task.
Erica leaned into La’an, her voice, hoarse, desperate, “I can fly. It has to be me.”
The decision hit La’an like a weight, but there was no option. Make the impossible choices, that’s what command meant, “She’s right. We need to go.”
Together they lifted Erica into position, leaning against the controls. Almost immediately, the ship lit up. Erica chuckled weakly in relief, before grunting in pain as she piloted the ship out. Out of the hangar, out of the ship, and into space surrounded by their enemies.
La’an had to believe that Enterprise was out there as well.
Another Gorn ship followed, weapons firing. The haul shook, knocking those inside roughly. Erica held steady…barely, shaking her head to try to clear it. La’an could see the strain on her, see her fading. Every shake of the ship looked like it would take her down. But there was no option.
La’an activated the Gorn device, desperate for this to work, “Enterprise, are you there?”
“La’an, where are you?” Pike’s voice came over the comms, a hint of desperation and relief.
“On our way. If you can read me, I’m sending you the transport codes,” Her breath held as she fed in the buffer signature and the transport codes to the device.
Another impact rocked them. Erica slumping forward, fighting to maintain any control over the ship. There was no time.
“Beam the Parnassians out,” La’an ordered.
“We’re trying to beam you out, but we’re having trouble getting a lock. Do you copy?” Pike answered.
“They’re gaining on us!” Erica rasped, her breath thinning.
La’an’s throat closed, the space between hope and failure narrowed into seconds. She repeated, her voice pushed raw, “Enterprise, do you read me? Beam the Parnassians out.” She needed this; she needed to get them free. She needed this to mean something. They had come so far she couldn’t lose them.
The ship lurched again, M’Benga clutched Erica as she sagged, her hands no longer able to hold the controls. La’an watched Erica's chest rise and fall in ragged, shallow arcs.
“Captain, we need immediate assistance,” she called out, forcing command into her voice, but slipping into desperation. “Beam us out and have a medical team standing by.” She had to hope they got the colonists; but, she needed to save her team as well.
She didn’t let herself think, didn’t let herself feel. She needed to believe that Pike could hear her, that someone on the ship heard them, that they would get out. Not believing you’re gonna die is what gets you killed. Those words echoed through her head.
M’Benga shouted, “Stay with me. Stay with me.”
Erica’s breathing was labored, “I did good. Didn’t I?”
La’an came over, saw the blood covering the console, far too much. Erica was bleeding out. Her mind locked on a single truth. I won’t lose anyone again. They had to make it through this. Erica needed to make it. She was responsible and right now she had to believe none of them would die.
“Stop,” M’Benga commanded Erica gently, “You’re going to make it.”
Erica leaned back on M’Benga, barely holding on to consciousness. “They’re going to have to try harder than that. I’m Erica Ortegas. I fly the ship.”
“Hold on. I got you,” M’Benga promised as they were pulled away by the transporter.
---
The moment they rematerialized, the medical team was there, moving with practiced urgency. La’an’s eyes stayed locked on Erica as the medics worked to stop the bleeding, giving Erica plasma, and getting her stable enough to move to the overflow infirmary. M’Benga stayed close to Erica’s side, a constant anchor in the waves of desperate, urgent movement.
La’an could feel the tension coiling in her shoulders, her chest tight with the residual fear that hadn’t left even after the transporter sweep. She stayed near Sam, supporting him until another medic could take over, but every fiber of her attention remained on Erica. She couldn’t look away. She wouldn’t.
Finally, M’Benga straightened, voice calm but firm. “She’s stable enough for transport.”
La’an exhaled, almost forgetting to breathe, and turned to the transporter chief. Her voice carried that edge of need, that sharp insistence she hadn’t felt in years. “Did you get the colonists?”
“Yes, they are being treated as we speak. A few hundred of them.”
La’an nearly collapsed. She felt a rush of relief, exhaustion, and optimism. She had done it. They had done it.
She looked at Erica as they placed her on a stretcher, pale, fragile, but breathing. M’Benga gave La’an a small steadying look, wordlessly telling her that they got it. They had saved the colonists, and the team had made it out, battered, bleeding, but alive.
And for the first time in hours, La’an allowed herself a small, tremulous smile. They had chosen to fight. They had chosen to survive. And somehow, against every fear and every memory, they had won.
---
They were on course for Earth, the hum of the engines a steady metronome under the warp. Erica lay unconscious in the overflow infirmary, monitors keeping the pilot’s life anchored with steady beats. La’an was decompressing in her quarters.
She felt different. She wasn’t shouting it. She didn’t need to boast. But the story she had carried since the Gorn had once taken her as a child had been rewritten in those hours: she hadn’t been left helpless. She had not run and been spared by luck. She had chosen movement, to be the first piece that saved all of them.
The door chimed and Una stepped in, walked over to La’an, and pulled her into a hug.
Una’s voice was soft, steady, “You did it.”
La’an’s laugh was small, edged with fatigue and something like stunned pride. “And I’m okay,” she said, and she let the words land without flinching. They weren’t bravado. They were the truth of that moment, a woman who had been frightened and who had turned that fear into a thing that carried other people home.
Outside the viewport, stars streaked by as the Enterprise bent space for the long road to Earth. La’an closed her eyes, and for the first time in a long while she just let herself breathe.
She had used to think survival was luck. Now she knew better. Survival was a choice and that time, it had been hers.