Pain. Inexorable pain. But pain meant life. How? How was she still alive? If the high energy phaser blast hadn’t killed her, the explosion of Sol Station should have. The last thing she remembered was Commander Lewis stepping over her body as she succumbed to her injuries. She’d ordered them to leave the bodies where they fell, and she’d become one of them. But then how was she here now?

Allison Reyes opened her eyes. It was bright. Impossibly bright. She tried to lift her arm to shield her eyes, but she didn’t have the strength. It just flopped back to her side. All she could do was squint to filter out some of the light.

“Admiral, you’re awake,” said the gentle voice of a nurse approaching her bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“I… uh… what happened?”

“You received a high energy phaser blast to your lower abdom…”

“No,” Admiral Reyes interrupted. “What happened to Sol Station? To Earth? To our people?” That was what truly mattered. That was what she’d meant to give her life to protect.

“Picard pulled a miracle out of his ass,” came the response of a familiar voice as Michael Drake stepped into view. The ambassador looked worse for wear, his uniform ripped and his skin caked with blood and dust. “The old geezer and his wheelchair brigade dragged their old ship out of the museum and used it to stop the Borg signal over Jupiter.”

Admiral Reyes chuckled. Of course they did. But then pain overtook her, the movement of her chest igniting damaged nerves. She winced and took a moment to recompose herself. “And the councilors and cabinet officials?” They’d formed a human shield around them and fought their way across Sol Station in a desperate attempt to ensure the continuity of the Federation’s civilian leadership.

“We got them off the station safely,” Ambassador Drake assured her. “Our officers, they performed admirably. Every last one of them. They did what needed to be done.”

Admiral Reyes smiled, but only for a moment. She could see pain behind his eyes. Success had not come without a cost. “How many did we lose, Michael?”

“It was a bloodbath, Allison,” Ambassador Drake frowned. “By the time the last drone fell, it was just me, Commander Lewis, Dr. Hall, and three others. Plus four of you that we found bleeding out on the deck after we got the civilians off station.”

The air left the admiral’s lungs. Nearly four dozen officers had charged through those blast doors on her orders, but not even a dozen had survived. The survivors’ guilt set in instantly. “But me… how?”

“Because of that guy over there,” Ambassador Drake said, gesturing across the room at an aged Commander in a tattered uniform who sat next to another bed. “He insisted on going back for you.”

Admiral Reyes looked over. Yet again, she owed Commander Lewis her life. The old spook looked up, as if sensing her gaze, and nodded. No words needed to be said. And then his gaze fell back to the bed before him. The admiral recognized the young woman lying there. It was Ensign Elyssia Rel, the flight controller from their hazard team who’d helped free them from the grasps of the changeling infiltrator before the Borg signal overtook her. Dr. Hall had shot her before she could shoot them. “Is she… is she going to be ok?” 

“The doctors say she’ll make a full recovery,” nodded Ambassador Drake. “As will you. Your counselor, she was brilliant. That shot you took, it did a number on your innards, but Lieutenant Hall worked miracles to keep you alive until we could get you to a trauma ward.”

Admiral Reyes tried to sit up, but she couldn’t. It was as though she couldn’t rotate her midsection whatsoever. “What’s wrong with me?”

“The blast did significant damage to your pelvic and abdominal structures,” explained the nurse who’d taken a step back to let the two talk. “But you’re going to make a full recovery. It will take time, and it’s going to take multiple surgeries and consistent physical therapy, but we will get you there.”

“I… I…” Admiral Reyes said, fumbling for her words. The exhaustion was too much. She wanted to know more about her missing friend, the changeling infiltrators, the Borg signal, their assimilated youth, and, most of all, how they’d almost lost it all, but she was too tired and too weak to even construct a coherent question.

“Rest, Allison,” said Ambassador Drake. “There’ll be plenty of time to deconstruct all of this later.”