All was pitch blackness, except for a barely discernible pinpoint of light far, far above. With agonizing slowness, the pinpoint grew brighter, and its edges expanded, pushing back the unknown dark. Awareness reawakened with equal sluggishness, pushing aside the fog of oblivion.
Kim felt as though she were floating upward toward the light. She tried to turn her head, to look around, but her muscles refused to obey her commands. From somewhere far, far away, she thought she heard someone speaking her name. She longed to respond to the call; it seemed to be drawing her further toward the light. She concentrated all her willpower on moving in that direction.
Now she became aware of another sound that quickly grew in volume. It enveloped her in a cacophonous roaring like blood rushing in her ears. The area of light before her eyes expanded until the surrounding darkness was completely dispelled off the edges of her vision, and began to resolve itself into shapes and objects. The roaring of the blood in her ears subsided, and she heard the voice clearly now. To her surprise, she discovered she recognized it.
Suddenly responsive muscles turned her head slightly toward the source of the voice and she blinked a few times in the suddenly bright sunlight.
"Thomas?" she asked in a weak voice.
"It's me," said Thomas Riker. "Don't worry. You're okay." He helped her up into a semi-sitting position, leaning her against a large boulder.
Kim winced with the motion, and a stabbing pain shot through her left arm causing her to cry out.
"Easy there," cautioned Riker. "Your arm's broken. I had to set it."
Kim looked down and saw that indeed her arm was encased in an emergency plastifoam splint from her fighter's first-aid kit. She raised her other arm and put her hand to her head, and felt the bandage there. "I have a headache that would kill a targ," she mumbled.
"I'll bet," said Riker. "You took a nasty bump on the head. You've been out for about two hours."
"What?!?" Alarmed, Kim tried to stand up, but Riker held her down with a hand on her good shoulder. "Two hours!" she exclaimed. "The Jem'Hadar might still be out there. We have to get moving!"
"I think you're forgetting one thing," said Riker. He pointed to a blackened heap about a hundred yards from where they were. Kim recognized it as the remains of the crashed cockpit of her Banshee fighter. "That wreck isn't going anywhere."
Kim slumped back against her boulder. "I guess you're right."
"You just stay put," ordered Riker. He stood and strode away toward the mangled wreckage that had been her ship.
Kim was in no mood to argue, so she did as she was told and stayed put, but she took the opportunity to crane her neck and look around a little. The place looked strangely familiar, and there was a peculiar odor in the air.
Presently, Riker returned carrying some supplies and a large silver case. He set it down next to her, and she recognized it as the automatic distress transmitter from her ship. It looked intact. Riker set about fiddling with the simple controls, and then sat back on his haunches looking satisfied.
"It still works," he announced. "Good thing these things are built to take a lot of punishment."
"Won't the Jem'Hadar be able to home in on our signal too?" asked Kim, looking a little worried.
Riker looked serious. He said, "Hopefully a Starfleet vessel will respond before the Jem'Hadar do. It's our only hope."
Kim nodded in agreement. At the mention of their rescue, she thought about Garek, and daydreamed how nice it would be if he was the one who rescued her.
Meanwhile, aboard the Lambda Flier....
Garek had nodded off into a nap in the pilot's couch. The analysis on the debris would take awhile. The onboard scanning systems on the Flier were not as advanced as those on a well equipped starship or station. The scan was completed, and a small beeping began in the rear compartment of the ship. Garek awoke from his small nap, and rubbed his eyes. He stood up, and stretched his back out, then made his way to the rear of the ship. Garek brought up the information on the computer terminal. He mentally read to himself the information being displayed.
Okay, we've got the basics. Duranium. Some traces of tritanium. Wait a second... This can't be right.... very slight trace of carbon-neutronium...
Garek accessed the Flier's library and brought up the schematics on the Banshee class fighter. Carbon-neutronium monofilament protected the structural hardpoints. The findings weren't promising... A klaxon then went off in the cockpit of the fighter. Has to be that Jem'Hadar cruiser. He entered the cockpit, and slipped into the pilot's couch. The alarm was being set off by a distress signal. It was coming from the surface of the planet he was currently orbiting, and it carried a Starfleet transponder frequency. KIM!! Garek brought the impulse engines on-line, and started the Flier into a dive towards the surface of the planet.