Florrick crawled through the narrow crawlspace, his breath loud in the confined access tube of the Orion. The environmental systems were failing. He could feel it in the air, heavy and stale, the oxygen thinning by the minute. Sweat rolled down his temple, stinging his eyes as he dragged himself hand over hand toward the next junction. The heat from the ship’s EPS systems was starting to warm them up. Every meter felt longer than the last. He shook his head and pushed on.

“Almost there,” came the calm voice of the EMH over the intercom. Even compressed through the communication channel, her tone carried that clipped, reassuring steadiness that had anchored him since sickbay. “You’re doing exceptionally well, Ensign. I’m impressed you’ve managed to keep the hallucinations under control this long.”

He managed a breathless laugh. “Define ‘under control,’ Doc.”

“I mean that you haven’t tried talking back to any invisible friends in the last ten minutes.”

“Yet.”

Her dry hum almost made him smile. It was good, the sound of someone sane, rational and measured. She was like a tether to reality while the ship creaked and moaned around him like a wounded beast. He was fortunate that a hologram could not see hallucinations from a neurogenic field. On the other hand, Florrick wasn’t fortunate as he was left having to save the ship almost single-handedly.

He reached the final junction, the metal walls vibrating faintly under his palm. It appeared that the Botha had begun systematically cutting power. First, they had started with environmental controls, then proceeded to life support, followed by others. It was a desperate bid by them to bypass the captain’s computer lockouts. He could feel their presence in the very hum of the hull, that insidious psionic whisper that tried to slide beneath thought and make the world bend.

“Approaching the airlock,” he reported, voice hoarse. “How are my readings?”

“Nominal for now,” the EMH replied. “Though the temperature has increased by another three degrees. Make sure you take a drink from your flask. You can’t be fighting dehydration as you’ll need to move quickly once you’re outside.”

Florrick exhaled and hit the final release lever. The hatch dropped away with a hollow clang. The airlock yawned before him. It was dark, cold, and silent.

He slipped inside and sealed the inner door, the sound echoing like a heartbeat.

That’s when he saw him.

A figure slumped against the bulkhead. His blonde hair matted with sweat, a smear of blood across his temple. The green tunic of Peter Pan was torn and blackened at the shoulder, where a burn wound glistened wetly.

“Lieutenant Anderson?” Florrick blinked hard. “Brad?”

Anderson’s head lolled forward, and he looked up with a pained smile. “Scott,” he rasped. “Thank goodness you’re here. I didn’t think anyone else was still awake on this deck.”

Florrick hurried over, his boots clanging on the deck. He knelt beside the lieutenant, reaching instinctively for the medkit at his hip. “What are you doing here? You should be—”

“On the bridge?” Anderson’s voice trembled, but there was a glint in his eyes, too bright, too knowing. “We woke up. All of us did. The captain’s taking back the ship. I came looking for you.”

“That’s impossible,” Florrick murmured, scanning him. “You were down. I checked. Everyone was down.”

Anderson grabbed his wrist, the touch startlingly warm. “You think I’d lie to you?”

The contact sent a rush of something through him. It was neither pain nor pleasure, but something stranger, like being pulled into a dream. Anderson’s fingers trailed up his arm, settling against his cheek. His voice softened.

“You can help me, Scott. Please. Just patch me up, and we can finish this together.”

Florrick’s heart thudded unevenly. He swallowed, the heat of Anderson’s touch anchoring him. “Brad, you’re hurt. I need to—”

“I need you,” Anderson interrupted. His eyes were no longer pleading. Instead, they were soft, almost tender. “You always keep your distance. Always follow the rules. But out here, just us…” His thumb brushed Florrick’s cheekbone. “You could stop pretending.”

Florrick froze. His breath caught somewhere between disbelief and panic. “Brad, this isn’t you!”

The voice from the combadge broke through, crisp and clear.

“Ensign,” said the EMH firmly, “I’m detecting an abrupt increase in neurogenic interference. You need to remain focused. Do not engage with your hallucination.”

Florrick blinked, eyes darting between Anderson’s imploring gaze and the tricorder in his hand. The readings were wrong. There were no biosigns, no cellular structure, no life. Just static.

He took a step back. “You’re not real.”

Anderson tilted his head, smiling faintly, almost sadly. “Maybe not. But you want me to be.”

The illusion leaned in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “I’d be with you, Scott, if that’s what you wanted. Forever.”

Florrick’s hand trembled as he raised the tricorder between them like a ward. “You’re not real,” he said again, voice cracking.

The EMH’s tone sharpened. “The Botha are intensifying the field. Take the suppressant now.”
Anderson’s hand brushed his chest. “Please, don’t leave me.”

Florrick’s pulse thundered in his ears. He fumbled for the hypospray, thumb shaking as he pressed it to his neck.
A hiss. Cold fire flooded his veins.

Anderson’s face shimmered, fractured like glass in sunlight and then vanished.

The airlock was empty again.

Florrick sagged against the bulkhead, breath ragged. “Doc, remind me never to get psionically tortured again.”

“Duly noted,” came the reply. “Now suit up, Ensign. That latest injection won’t last forever at this rate, and you can’t take any more or you’ll risk possible damage.”

He moved automatically, muscle memory taking over as he pulled on the EVA suit. The fabric sealed around him with a hiss. The helmet display flickered to life, the HUD blooming in soft blue light.

“All systems check complete,” he said over the suit’s intercom system. “Suit integrity stable, oxygen at one hundred per cent.”

“Excellent. The deflector controls are eighty meters forward along the ventral spine. Keep to the maintenance clamps. Hurry, ensign, as I do not know how much longer that suppressor will last against the field the Botha are using.”

“Understood.”

Florrick cycled the airlock. The outer doors opened with a deep groan, revealing the infinite black beyond.
Stars filled across his visor. They looked like sharp, cold diamonds against the void. The Orion’s curved hull gleamed silver beneath him, fractured light rippling over its surface. He stepped out, magnetic boots clamping with a satisfying click.

For a heartbeat, silence. Just his breathing and the faint crackle of comms.

“Scott.”

He froze. The voice was soft. Familiar.

He turned.

Alfie stood on the hull behind him, golden light haloing his hair, the dark gleam of his Neverland outfit utterly out of place against the vacuum of space. Jordan stood beside him, arms folded, that infuriating half-smile tugging at his lips.

“Ensign, I’m picking unusual neural activity coming from you. Keep going,” the EMH said faintly. “Ignore those hallucinations.”

“Scott,” Alfie said, taking a step forward. “You’re making it worse. You always make it worse.”

Jordan’s grin widened. “He’s trying his best. Aren’t you, Scotty?”

Florrick’s throat went dry. “You’re not real.”

“Oh, but we are,” Jordan purred, voice low, teasing. “We’re the part of you that knows what you really want. The part that doesn’t follow rules or orders or logic.”

“Don’t listen to anything you are hearing, Ensign,” the EMH insisted. “Focus on the deflector assembly. You’re almost there.”

He moved forward, one careful step at a time, but the voices followed.

The hull shimmered, and suddenly, the rest of the bridge crew was there. Krabreii, Saval, Kulucis, Coralia, Jines, Bollwyn, Nali and Tomraf. All standing among the stars. Their faces were pale, eyes cold.

“You are a failure, Ensign,” Saval said flatly. “Your incompetence will kill us all.”

Krabreii’s tone was cutting, filled with disappointment. “I trusted you, Mister Anderson, not to muck up when you joined this ship. You should have remained on the Astra.”

Kulucis laughed bitterly. “He can’t even tell what’s real anymore.”

Florrick stumbled, hand gripping a railing. His vision blurred; the HUD flickered as if even his suit couldn’t tell where reality ended. “Doc,” he rasped, “I can’t, I can’t tell—”
“Focus on my voice,” the EMH said, louder now. “You’re almost there, Ensign. Just a few more meters.”

Jordan’s voice slid through the static. “You don’t need to listen to that hologram. You don’t need anyone. Just me.”

Alfie stepped closer, his expression suddenly dark. “You let me down once, Scott. Are you going to do it again?”

Florrick’s hand trembled over the control panel. The holographic interface flickered, a blur of unreadable data. He couldn’t concentrate, not with all of them around him, accusing, mocking, whispering.

The EMH’s voice was tight with urgency. “Don’t engage them. Just focus. You can do this.”

“I can’t!” he shouted, the sound raw in the confines of his helmet. “I need to take the suppressant.”

“Ensign, listen to me,” the EMH said sharply. “Another dose could cause permanent neural damage.”

He looked down at the hypospray clipped to his belt. His breath fogged the visor.

“I can’t finish this without it.”

“Scott—”

He didn’t let her finish. He grabbed the hypospray, pressed it against his neck, and injected.

White light exploded behind his eyes. The world rippled.

When it cleared, the voices were gone.

Just the hum of his suit, the pulse of his heartbeat, and the soft echo of the EMH’s voice.

“Field coherence stabilising,” she said, relief bleeding through her tone. “Initiate the resonance burst.”

Florrick’s fingers moved swiftly now, precise and sure. He rerouted power through the auxiliary power systems, bypassed the safety interlocks, and keyed the command sequence.

“Deflector modulation aligned,” he reported through clenched teeth. “On your mark, Doc.”

“Do it, Ensign!”

He hit the final control.

A surge of light erupted from the Orion’s deflector. It was a brilliant cascade of blue that rippled outwards across space like a heartbeat.

For a moment, nothing.

“Neurogenic field collapsing,” the EMH announced with delight. “It’s working. The Botha ships, ” she paused. “Correction. The larger signatures were projections. Only one remains. It’s a shuttle-sized craft. It’s retreating.”

Florrick sagged against the console, the stars spinning. “That’s… good. Means… I did it.”

“Ensign?” Her voice sharpened. “Your vitals are spiking. You need to get back inside, now.”

“Just need… a minute…I need to catch my…”

The stars twisted. His vision dimmed.

“Scott, stay with me. Do you hear me?”

He smiled faintly inside his helmet. “Yeah, Doc… I hear you.”

And then the black took him.

When he woke, the world was white light and soft beeping.

Sickbay.

He blinked up at the familiar ceiling, at the shapes moving above him. Captain Krabreii. Commander Saval. Doctor Tomraf. And beside them, the EMH. Her arms folded, a faintly satisfied expression playing at her lips.

“Welcome back, Ensign,” Tomraf said gently. “Take it easy. You’ve had quite the day.”

Florrick tried to sit up, but the captain’s firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Easy, Mister Florrick,” Krabreii said. Her voice was warm, but her eyes still carried a commanding presence. “You saved this ship. The moment you triggered that resonance burst, the neurogenic field collapsed. We woke up shortly after and detected the residual pulse. The Botha are gone.”

Saval nodded. “Our holographic doctor contacted us, explained what you’d done. We beamed you directly from the hull to sickbay.”

Tomraf added, “You overdosed on the suppressant, but we’ve neutralised the excess. No lasting damage, thankfully. Provided that you rest.”

Florrick swallowed hard. “I… really did it?”

Krabreii’s lips curved into a small, proud smile. “You did. You saved us all.”

He exhaled slowly, the weight of it finally landing. Relief flooded him. It was raw, disbelieving relief.

Krabreii straightened. “Get some rest, Ensign. That’s an order.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As she and Saval departed, Anderson lingered by the door. This time, he was in his real uniform. This was the real McCoy.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You did good, Scott.”

Florrick chuckled weakly. “I thought I saw you outside.”

Anderson grinned. “In a Peter Pan outfit, I bet.”

“Yeah,” Florrick admitted, smiling faintly.

“Well,” Anderson said, stepping closer. “Once you’re back on your feet, maybe we can run the next chapter of that holoprogram. Peter Pan needs his crew, right?”

Florrick shook his head, amused. “How about we just get a drink instead?”

“Deal.” Anderson winked. “Now get some rest, as the captain ordered, and you can brief me on your antics.”

“Thank you, sir,” Florrick said weakly.

“Call me, Brad, when it’s just us, for goodness’ sake, Scott. We attended the academy together.” He chuckled before patting Florrick on the arm and then left sickbay.

Florrick turned his head toward the EMH, who was watching him with a small, knowing smile.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

She inclined her head. “You did most of the work. I simply offered medical advice and moral commentary.”

He laughed softly. “You sound almost proud.”

“I am.”

She turned back to her console, the light from the display casting a golden glow over her auburn hair.

Florrick lay back, staring at the ceiling. The hum of the ship was steady again, life support whispering its familiar rhythm.

And yet, in the corner of the room, he thought he heard something.

A whisper.

A laugh.

He turned his head, but nothing was there. There were just shadows and the quiet glow of instruments.

He exhaled, eyes closing.

For the first time, he wasn’t sure if he was awake or dreaming.

But for now, it was enough to believe he was safe.