Discovery trading card series 2 number 8, "New Eden," 2020.
Discovery trading card series 2 number 8, "New Eden," 2020.
anyway here's my top 10 academy era mckirk recs enjoy.
Step 1: Enlist in Starfleet. Step 2: ????? Step 3: Profit. by hellostarling
Jim spends three years at the Academy, and he totally manages it all by himself. Well, Bones helps a little. Or a lot. Maybe.
This is Jim's Starfleet education and all that entails: the ups, the downs, the prank wars, the winter vacations, and the awkward boners.
Once More unto the Breach by AnEscapeFromReality
James Kirk was the rudest student Professor Heleine ever taught. He stomped out of the middle of the professor's lecture like he wasn't a mere cadet. Well, the professor was done putting up with him. If he couldn't sit through an expert lecture, then he should give the lecture about Tarsus. That would teach him some respect.
What Sulu Sees by IsmayDeVain
How Kirk Slowly Endears Himself to His Crew by Becoming a Human Punching Bag, Plunging off a 300 Foot Cliff, Getting Crushed by a Giant Ass Pipe, Nearly Getting Blown to Itty Bitty Bits, and Suffocating Because of His Own Medically Inept Body. (Although, not necessarily in that order.) Or five times Kirk puts his crew before himself and one time they return the favor.
(this is post Star Trek 2009, but it includes flashbacks to the academy so I'm counting it.)
Shelter by schweinsty
Five times Jim told someone about Tarsus IV, and one time they already knew.
The World May Never Know by SadieYuki
How many lies does it take to get to the center of a Jim Kirk?
Or, five times Jim Kirk hid the truth from Leonard McCoy, and one time he finally opened up.
Cpt C. Pike and C/ J.T. Kirk’s guide to unexpected Co-Habitation by InsaneSociopath
When the Admiralty first delivered their ultimatum, Chris Pike didn't know who ought to be more offended; Jim Kirk, for being treated as if he were incapable of being independent despite being twenty-two and a certified genius; or Chris himself, for not getting any choice in who lived in his spare bed room for the next twelve months dammit!
Or: Things Captain Christopher Pike learns about both himself and Cadet James T Kirk during their (not so) brief period of (initially) forced co-habitation.
Leonard H. McCoy's Guide to Keeping a Friend by highschool-facelesshellion (mutalune)
Leonard came to Starfleet with nothing except a half-finished degree and an empty bottle of cheap booze. It took him months to realize he had a best friend waiting in the wings for him to get his act together.
Or: How Leonard made a best friend by being an unobservant but decent person and how his conscience wouldn't let him be undeserving of the kid's freak affection.
Quirks and Their Side Effects by highschool-facelesshellion (mutalune)
Jim Kirk's always been a weirdo.
Leonard could use some more weird.
The Little Things by summoner_yuna_of_besaid
Jim thinks about how he came to this moment: how he just happened to go and visit Bones when the man was with a patient diagnosed with ADHD who was looking to refill his medication. Funny, he thinks as more tears roll down his face and his lips tremble, how the most innocuous little things can change your life, forever.
In which Jim Kirk learns about himself and his mind, struggles to understand it, and his friends and family help him handle the fall out.
Any Road Will Take You There by shoreleave
Slow-developing K/M, beginning right after the shuttle ride and showing what happens the first year at the Academy. Told from McCoy's POV.
(anyway drop into my inbox to cry with me about aos kirk)
Anson Mount interview about filming Star Trek: Strange New Worlds
Speaking to RadioTimes.com while promoting his new movie The Virtuoso, Anson Mount said the following about Strange New Worlds:
- It wasn't something he'd expected – he'd believed Pike was a "one-season gig" – but has been delighted to return, particularly after such a warm reception from fans.
- He was still high on the pleasure of being back at work three months into production. "I was telling our costume designer earlier today, I was at home for a year," he laughs. "The last time I was home for a year was my junior year in high school. Everyone's glad to be back at work."
- Inevitably things aren't quite as Mount had anticipated when Strange New Worlds was first proposed. "COVID [protocol] makes everything take longer," he admits, "but you get through it and it's weird trying to get to know my cast only on set." However, despite everything, "it's been one of the smoothest starts I think I've ever had in television."
- Mount's joined by Rebecca Romijn and Ethan Peck reprising their roles as the enigmatic Number One, aka Una, and Spock from Discovery, and the general familiarity is helped by the fact that Strange New Worlds shares some of the production personnel with Discovery. "That has worked to our benefit," he notes, "not just with the world and the material, but interpersonally, with this production company and these producers."
- He takes his place as number one on the call sheet seriously, as much a captain off-screen as on. "Normally I'd be throwing barbecues and we'd be going to the park and you can't do much of that right now, particularly during the lockdown in Ontario but we're surviving."
- The shoot in Toronto is about halfway through its first season, which is expected to air in 2022 after the next seasons of animated series Lower Decks and Discovery. "We're really happy with the material," Mount points out. "We're all having a good time together."
+ some extra news: Director of episode 2, Maja Vrvilo (who previously directed eps of Discovery and Picard, and the Short Trek ep "Runaway"), announced her involvement on Twitter on May 1 2021, posting a couple non-spoilery pictures from the set that show a Strange New Worlds clapper-board and the director's computer.
Written on the clapper-board are the episode number ("102" aka 1x02), the date April 26 2021, and the name of the cinematographer Glen Keenan who also worked on episodes of Discovery and two Short Treks, including "Q&A" that ties to Strange New Worlds. Fans are speculating that episodes are being filmed out of order because the clapper-board indicates the tv series is currently shooting episode 2, yet Akiva Goldsman and three other directors appear to have already directed their episodes.
- Earlier in April, a production crew member (mechanical engineer) shared a photo of their production vehicle (with a Strange New Worlds sign on it), tweeting, "Never a dull moment living in Toronto. Apparently I get the same burritos as the crew of the Enterprise."
- Anson Mount also tweeted about the music being played on set, calling it the "on-set playlist", which includes Steve Earle, Gerry Rafferty, Del McCoury Band, Motörhead, AC/DC, Prince, and others!
Sources: RadioTimes.com (May 4 2021), TrekCentral.net, Maja Vrvilo Official Twitter (@majavrvilo), Star Trek Pike Twitter (@CaptainPikesEnt), crew member (@trueman832) Twitter, Anson Mount Official Twitter (@AnsonMount)
Spock. Are you alright?
I believe it is. Yes.
The thing about this scene is that it’s quite powerful because it comes after:
“You’re not capable of love. You are Vulcan, and you will always be cold and distant, like a moon somewhere.”
because it comes after Spock’s cold behaviour towards Michael, because it comes after they show us cold, hurt, and wounded Spock. Spock who presumably lost all trust in humans, who buried his emotions and tried to escape them, and embraced his logic and Vulcan way of life completely.
Yet, here he is. Speaking softly, smiling at his captain, openly admitting his ‘human behaviour’ - a smile. He could never escape his emotions, he could never escape himself.
And this scene right here literally tells you why he would risk his life and entire career for Christopher Pike ten years later.
Discovery trading card series 2 number 4, "Brother," 2020.
Discovery trading card series 2 number 3, "Brother," 2020.
Discovery trading card series 2 number 1, "Brother," 2020.
STAR TREK: DISCOVERY (2017-) S2E08 | If Memory Serves BONUS:
Down from Uptown
For @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: Canon-typical violence; off-screen deaths of (young) adults WC: 6k Tag list: this isn’t the story I said I’d tag you for but it is Captain Pike X Reader @jusvibbbin ? does this count?? I can untag you! A/N: Me: it’s a one-shot Me: oh wait I can’t leave it there here’s a sequel @autumnleaves1991-blog: here’s another amazing Writer Wednesday prompt Me: I guess it’s a series of one shots now?? Also this is super long for me having written it in one day. Not sure where all these words came from. Other writers write feelings; come to me for a healthy dose of plot. tl;dr: Elen saw the picture and thought, what if Captain Pike, but driving a speeder?
It is all his fault.
You shouldn’t even have been here in the first place: you are an engineer. Not a diplomat. Sure you had read the briefing the comms team had put together, but maybe if you’d been better at reading alien body language, they wouldn’t have got the jump on you?
Now you’re sitting in what feels like a cellar, no windows, one flickering light panel above you, leaning against the wall feeling sorry for yourself.
Still. You will admit – having checked Chris over and determined, to the best of your knowledge from your limited field medic training, that he was probably fine – that you would rather be here with him than on the Enterprise worrying, powerless.
While you wait for him to wake you take an inventory of what you have, and think back to how you had gotten into this predicament.
“Are you sure, Chris?” He likes when you call him that, even if you’re on duty, so long as you’re alone. “It’s a first contact, and not even with a society that needs help from us. There’s got to be someone better than me?”
“Of course I’m sure. The Eloma value couple bonds; it would be strange not to take you. Unless,” —he peers up at you under his eyelashes, mouth quirking slightly,—”you don’t think you’re up to it? I could bring—”
“No, I’m up to it all right.” You bristle at the obvious manipulation attempt. You may not be as confident over away missions as the crew who go on them regularly, and your minor meltdown in Earth’s past still has you nervous about how you may react if things go wrong off the ship, but the only way to overcome worries like that is to confront them. You know you can do this. “Louvier’s going to be mad, that’s all. I promised him I’d oversee the shuttle upgrades.”
“You let me handle Louvier,” he says with a small smile.
“Well if I end up on gamma for the next two weeks and you don’t see me at all, you only have yourself to blame,” you say with a shrug.
“Being the captain does have its perks, you know. I can change the duty rosters if I wish.” He grins back, blue eyes sparkling and dimples on display, knowing he’s won this one.
The first impression you get of Eloma is calm beauty. You beam down to a roof garden high on a sky-scraper, with Captain Pike at your side, and Lieutenant Spock and Ensign James from security.
The garden is gorgeous. You meet your hosts on a paved area, but there are trees and flowerbeds all around, a few little paths winding between them, and you can see three ornate stone fountains behind your hosts, the largest of which shoots a plume of water into the air as you watch. You think you’d like to sit on one of the benches with a book – you would enjoy being able to hear the sounds of traffic wafting up from below (something between hover cars and shuttles by the sound of the engines), the horns beeping, and the occasional distant peal of laughter – it would be nice to feel part of all that but also separate from it.
You don’t have too long to dwell on your surroundings, however, because the captain is stepping forward to greet your hosts.
There are two native humanoid species who collectively make up the Eloma: the Mraden who are tall, grey haired with skin shades varying from sky through to ultramarine blue, faces humanlike apart from ridges beneath each eye; and the smaller, black haired, ice-white skinned Ginera who could almost pass for human if their skin was warmer in colour and their dark eyes didn’t flash silver at certain angles. A pair of Mraden and a pair of Ginera step forward to meet you, all wearing long white robes. You wonder if this is normal dress or whether it’s ceremonial, and you resist the temptation to smooth down your red jacket. The Mraden guards standing at attention behind your hosts are dressed more like you, though; a more practical black style.
“Greetings Captain, honoured partner,”—the Mraden lady looks at you as she says this, and you nod slightly in acknowledgement—”I am Nera, first lady of Eloma. May I welcome you on behalf of the first and second couples.” She gestures to her partner first, then to the Ginera couple, who bow. “We are delighted to open contact with the esteemed united Federation of planets, contact which I trust will lead to our mutual benefit.”
“Thank you, Nera. Myself, my partner and officers are grateful for your kind hospitality.”
You try to pay attention to the formalities between Nera, the Captain, and Lakir the first man, but you aren’t a diplomat, and beyond trying to keep your expression pleasant and listen out for anyone addressing you directly, your mind wanders a little. You wonder about the vehicles you can hear. You’re on top of a tall building, possibly the tallest you’ve been on, and as you look around past the trees and flowers you can see other buildings of similar heights. You think the gravity here may be a tiny bit lower than Earth standard, but this culture really does seem to use its sky space a lot.
You’re also interested in your hosts; although your briefing said that the Mraden and Ginera were equals on the planet, all the guards are Mraden and you’ve barely heard your Genera host’s voices, never mind their names. You wonder whether they communicate telepathically, or whether first and second couples switch between the species periodically. That’s probably it, you reason, and probably the first couple is responsible for security. You turn your attention to the fountains – the middle one is in the shape of a tree, and you’re marvelling at the individually carved leaves, when Chris takes your hand.
“Still with us?” He murmurs into your ear, as you look up to see your hosts are leading everyone through the garden.
“Of course,” you reply quietly, before raising your voice a little. “It’s just so beautiful.” Nera overhears that and smiles over her shoulder, and Chris squeezes your hand, pleased.
You follow the group past the fountains and to a door you hadn’t noticed before. It appears to lead down to a stairway and some guards go through, followed by the second couple, Spock and Ensign James, the first couple, then you and the captain.
But as you approach the doorway you hear a vehicle get louder, and suddenly the guards grab you. Your combat training kicks in as you see Chris struggling – you lean back and stomp on the guard’s foot, eliciting a stream of profanities as you try to elbow him in the solar plexus. But he’s a lot larger than you and had the benefit of surprise, and his grip doesn’t loosen as someone else stuffs a cloth in front of you and you can’t help breathing in the fumes, and you try to hang on but everything goes dark.
It is all his fault.
But blame will have to wait until later.
You assess yourself – other than a mild headache, probably due to dehydration, and a slightly bruised left hip, you feel fine. And the bruising isn’t going to slow you down if you need to make a run for it.
You go through your pockets. Your pants pockets are empty, but you unzip your uniform jacket and the inner one hasn’t been found – the custom one you modified the standard jacket synthesiser program for, because you always need to carry more than the uniform designers planned on, and you didn’t want delicate tools getting damaged when you shoved a communicator or PADD into your pants pocket.
You always have some tools with you because wherever you go, whether you’re on duty or not, someone will say, “You’re an engineer, right? Can you just have a quick look at...” and you make a show of grumbling but actually part of the reason you became an engineer in the first place is that you like to get things working for people. You’re grateful today that that extends to away missions.
You’re surprised to find your communicator on the floor near you, but as you pick it up you realise why it was left: it’s damaged. It had been in your left pocket, and whatever happened to you happened to it first; the casing is all bent and when you try to raise the Enterprise, you get nothing, not even static.
Figures that this would happen again, you think as you examine your communicator, assessing the damage. The real reason you shouldn’t be taken on away missions is because of your terrible luck. This one isn’t totally fried, you discover as you pry it apart and examine the components, but while it will still function as a translator, the transmitter was crushed. The communicator will work again if you can find a compatible part, but there’s no chance of communicating with the ship, and they can’t even lock on to your signal. You pull out the broken transmitter parts and put the case back together, and as you bend the cover back into shape you hear a groan.
“Captain?” You get up and crouch by him. He is leaning against the wall of your windowless cellar, blue eyes squinting. “How are you feeling?”
“A little sore, but fine. You?” He straightens, focusing on you, reaching out a hand to touch your cheek gently.
“I’m fine. A little bruised.” You lean into his touch, briefly, before sitting back down next to him.
“What happened? I remember following our hosts, then a fight, and now I’m here..?”
“Wherever here is. That’s all I remember too. I hope Spock and James are okay.” Now Chris is awake your brain is allowing itself to worry. You frown. You can’t panic again like last time.
“What’s going on in there?” Chris is looking at you, concerned.
“Just... making a decision. To be strong. It sounds silly when I say it out loud.”
He leans over and places a soft kiss on your lips, and for just a moment you forget where you are – it’s just you and him, and the special thing that you have between you. “That’s a decision we all have to make,” he says as he pulls away, thoughtful. “It becomes... less conscious. With time.”
You nod, and you take a moment to breathe. You’ve got this.
“Seems like they’ve been through our pockets,” Chris says, getting to his feet. “My communicator is gone.” He walks over to the door, which is locked. That was going to be your next project.
“I still have mine but unfortunately it won’t communicate,” you say, standing too. “The transmitter got broken at some point. The translation functions are still operational though and it has power.”
“Can you fix it?”
“I’m good, but not that good,” you say, pulling the pieces of the component out your pocket to show him.
“Ah. Any ideas? Other than waiting?”
“After I failed with the communicator I was going to try to pick the lock,” you say, heading toward the door.
“With this.” You pull out a tool with a hook on it which you use to lever broken components off boards when they’re too small for your fingers.
“How do you–”
Chris’s question is cut off by the door in question opening. You just have time to put your tool in your pants pocket before two Ginera appear, brandishing energy weapons. You raise your hands and back away.
“Sit down,” the lead one says, waving his weapon, and you both comply. The other, also male, steps round him and puts two bottles of water on the floor, and a plate of what looks to be food.
“I’m Captain Christopher Pike, of the United Federation of Planets. I promise if you let us go unharmed my people won’t seek punishment against you, or retribution. If not, though, they will come after us.”
The boy, and he is a boy, you realise, twenty at most, snickers. “We don’t intend to hurt you, but we’re not going to let the best chance the GLG has had to be taken seriously go just like that. Sorry.”
“The GLG?” Chris asks, voice gentle. Unthreatening.
“Ginera Liberation Group. And no, your ship knows we have you, but they’re not going to find you. We called them on your communicator, Captain, and told them we had you, and not to look. We weren’t stupid enough to call from here, either,” he adds, and a little spark of hope in you flares out. “And there are 60 million people in this city alone, they’re not going to be able to resolve the life signs of... whatever you are, among all of us.”
“And what is it that the... Ginera Liberation Group wants?”
“To wake people up. To tell the Mraden”—he spits out the word like it’s a curse—”that we won’t take being treated as second-class citizens anymore. And to give the Ginera hope – that we can take back what’s ours. We don’t need their skyscraper cities, where they force us to live in the dirt. We don’t need their language or their stupid pair bonds. We had our own society before and we can have it again.”
Chris sighs, and leans back, looking up at the boy. “Take it from someone who is old enough to be your dad: taking hostages is not the way. The Federation won’t pay a ransom for us. The Mraden won’t listen to you while you have us. But if you let me go, we can have Federation diplomats come, and—”
“We’ve had enough of diplomacy, Captain. We’re taking matters into our own hands now. Enjoy your food.” He turns abruptly and stalks out, his companion in tow.
Chris examines the food – there are four pre-packaged energy bars. He passes one to you, opening one himself. “Might as well do what the kid says.” He takes a bite, grimacing slightly.
You are not hungry, but you take a bite of yours anyway – you know you need to keep your strength up. You grimace too – the flavour is a weird combination of sweet citrus and something almost cheesy. In general you like salt and sweet but this is not it.
Still you force yourself to finish it; you both need to keep your strength up. Thankfully the drink is just water.
After you’ve finished eating Chris speaks again.
“So how about getting out of here? How do you still have that tool, anyway?”
“I have a pocket in my jacket. I have done for years. It’s reinforced so you don’t see it from the outside – as an ensign my commanding officer cared more about aesthetics than practicality – and that’s where I keep my more delicate tools.”
“Ever the engineer, huh?” Chris’s expression is fond and you smile back, warm inside despite your situation. “Come on.”
He stands, and puts his hand out for you. You grasp hold of it and pull yourself up, appreciating the contact. You go to the door, hook tool in hand, and listen at it first. When you’re sure you don’t hear anything from the other side you gingerly put the tool into the keyhole. It doesn’t shock you, which is a good start, but it still takes a few minutes to work out the structure. Chris is patient while you work, not breathing down your neck. You smile in satisfaction as the lock softly clicks open.
“Well done. I figure we sneak out of here then try to alert local law enforcement. Hopefully they can put us in touch with Nera’s people, who can get us back to the ship.”
“Sounds like a plan,” you say, stepping back to let him take the lead.
You follow him along a little corridor then up a flight of stairs, pausing when he motions you to stop. You can hear voices coming from your left and he eases the door open then gestures you to follow again. You catch a glimpse of the room your captors are in on the way past, but happily they have their back to you, looking at a display screen. Then you’re past them, to the front door. Chris opens it as carefully as he can but the last bolt is stiff and scrapes as it opens. You sense movement behind you but you’re through, slamming the door shut behind you, racing across the street and into an alleyway on the other side before they get out. You keep going behind the building opposite, and then Chris has you double back to face the street you were on. You peep round the edge of the building – your captors are standing in their doorway, the leader berating his companion, although you can’t hear what he’s saying.
You step back into the alley.
“Well, the—” Chris starts to say, but he’s interrupted by a loud bang. An explosion. People are screaming and you smell smoke, see orange light from flames.
You follow Chris back onto the street but the building you were in, small, apparently, just three stories amongst all the giant skyscrapers, is billowing flame and smoke from all its windows, on all floors. There’s a crowd of people standing, staring in disbelief, as the last window shatters, sprinkling glass over the crowd.
You turn to Chris. “We—we were—”
“I know,” he says, reaching for your hand. You take it, hearing sirens getting louder. You walk toward the building, knowing there was no way the boys could have survived. You stand at the edge of the crowd, looking at the smoke billowing out, as the authorities arrive.
First there are some Ginera on what looks like a fire appliance. They begin to set up hoses, faces grim. Then some Mraden swoop down in a vehicle painted white with a green logo on it. The crowd, who you notice is made up mostly of Ginera, back away slightly. Chris tows you forward, toward the Mraden who are wearing the same uniform as the guards were in the garden, who knows how long ago. They’re not the same people; their skin tones are both quite pale, but to your horror as soon as they see you they raise their weapons and fire.
You’re running again, keeping up with Chris who leads you straight into the smoke and through, round the corner of the block, down the street, into an alley, out onto another street, into yet another alley, until he’s certain you’re not being followed.
You breathe heavily, holding your hip – you were able to run, and could again, but it hurts.
“That was... unexpected,” Chris says, deadpan, and suddenly you find you have your arms around him, holding tight.
“Too close for comfort,” you say, pulling away a little, as he pats your back.
“I really did think this mission was going to be normal,” he shrugs a little as you step away. “Definitely not worse than last time.”
“I mean I know in theory that away missions are dangerous, but I—I didn’t expect someone I thought was going to help us to shoot.”
“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “Seems like we were supposed to die in that fire...” he frowns as you both try to make sense of what just happened.
“What if it’s all a trick?” You muse aloud. “What if the Mraden are the ones who want us to die? Then they can blame the Ginera and crack down on them even further. And all they had to do was manipulate some kids...?”
Chris’s blue eyes are serious. “You’re right. That’s the only explanation that makes sense. We need to contact the ship. But we can’t trust anyone, and we need to get away from here.” He eyes you speculatively. “It’s an old-fashioned term, so I hope you’ve heard it before, but how do you feel about grand theft auto?”
“It’s called a speeder,” you say, frowning at the display. It hadn’t taken you long to find and break into a suitable vehicle. It was small, rust coloured and nondescript – not shiny and new, but not banged up either. You popped the doors up and open with ease; not that lock picking was anything you’d tried before today, not really, but you may have broken into a shuttle or two during your academy days.
Chris had got in on the drivers side, leaving you to puzzle out the on-board computer with the help of your communicator.
“I’ve hacked into the admin menu and changed the transceiver code; we need to use it to change lanes and stuff – to move up and down.” You scroll though the options in front of you, displaying in English now, rather than the the native Eloma language. Maybe the native Mraden language, you think wryly, as you find a setting which taps into the city’s store directory.
“There’s a hardware store in a block a couple of miles east of here. I know we can’t trust anyone but I think we may have to try. As far as I can tell it’s quite low down – only on the second level. I think it’s more likely to be Ginera than Mraden.”
Chris pauses from where he’s examining the controls. “We may be better off with the Ginera. I’m willing to bet our captors were a fringe group. I’m sure a lot of the Ginera agree with their goals, but probably not their means. They may be less inclined to report us to the authorities.” He nods. “All right. Strap in. Let’s get this show on the road,” he says, as he presses the ignition.
You look out the windshield at the street around you as Chris gets the speeder moving; with all your running away earlier you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings beyond wondering whether you could be seen. It’s grey, down here. Drab, even with all the colourful advertising signs. There’s a layer of grime, something dirty in the atmosphere.
You stare out the window as you drive, keeping an eye out for law enforcement, but you don’t see any. As you get further east the traffic gets a little lighter. You eye Chris sidelong; he seems relaxed as he navigates the unfamiliar city.
“Time to go up,” he says, pressing a control and pulling a lever. You see a flashing indicator to see you have permission to change level, and then you’re ascending.
You’ve spent lots of time in shuttles, piloted yourself in an out of orbit more than a few times, but it feels different in a speeder. More immediate, somehow.
Up here the traffic is moving faster, and you see many different speeders, in all colours and all designs. Some of the buildings have balconies with people, mainly Ginera, sitting reading, hanging out washing – a slice of daily life.
You pass a major junction, impressed with how Chris is handling the traffic signals, and the buildings change – the road is a bit wider, and the shops have speeder parks outside.
You wish your briefing notes had mentioned the local currency, not that knowing about it would do you any good.
“I think we’re here,” Chris says, as he slows the speeder down and sets it down in front of a shop. You look at the sign – you can’t read it but it has the same logo as in the store directory. “Will you be okay to go in alone? I think I should stay here...”
“In case we need to make a fast exit? Aye Captain.” You catch his eye and grin, unplugging the communicator and climbing out of the speeder.
Louvier would love this place, you think as you look around the dark interior. The aisles are narrow and full of parts, a few of which you recognise, and most of which you don’t. There are bins with various components like resistors and capacitors, and power supplies, regulator circuitry, almost anything you could want. Except, as far as you can see, the thing you need – a transmitter.
At the back of the store, sitting behind a counter, is an older Ginera female, hair greying a little, screwdriver tucked behind her ear as she focuses on soldering a circuit. You wait for her to put the iron down.
“Excuse me? I’m wondering if you can help.” She looks up and her eyes widen – she can’t see aliens too often, you think.
“You—” she frowns, shakes her head. “You’re from that starship. But the news net said you were dead. Murdered by those GLG kids.”
“You, um... can’t believe everything you see on the net?”
“They said that the legislature was going to be recalled. That your people are going to come and punish us.”
“That’s—that’s not who we are, at all. Even if some kids had killed us the Federation would never retaliate like that. They would try to find us, if they thought we were alive, and it might complicate negotiations between our peoples but there would be no punishment. But... how many did they say died?”
“The two of you who were abducted from the first couple’s garden.”
Spock and James were safe. The fist bit of good news you’d had today.
“I really need to call my ship, let them know that we’re alive. But my communicator is broken. Do you have a micro transmitter? Something like this?”
You lean down over the low counter to show her your broken component.
“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “Nothing I’ve got here would be able to take the power you’d need for orbital communications. We don’t need things like that down here.”
Your shoulders slump. “Thanks anyway,” you say, straightening up.
“Wait. My cousin works in a shop at the shipyards by the spaceport. He’ll have what you need.” She rummages under the counter and produces a business card. “That will show you the way. His name is Jima. Tell him Asba sent you, he’ll give it to you for free.”
“Thank you, so much,” you say, taking the card and putting it in your pocket. “You don’t know how grateful I am, truly.”
“You’re welcome, love.” She turns her soldering iron on again, and smiles at you before getting back to work. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“So am I,” you say, as you turn to leave the shop.
“I have good news and bad news,” you say, as you plug the communicator back into the speeder and put the card into a slot that’s clearly designed for such things: a route shows up on the screen.
“Bad news first,” Chris says with a wry smile, easing the speeder back into traffic. “Although I can guess what it is considering we’re not calling for a beam out right now.”
“ I should have said great, good, bad and worse. You’re right about the bad news – she didn’t have the part. The worse news is that she thinks we’re dead and the Federation is going to come and get revenge on the planet.”
“The Federation will what?” Chris almost swerves into another speeder as he takes the turn late, narrowly missing and causing the other speeder to honk its horn angrily. “Sorry about that,” he adds, a little sheepish.
“My fault for not warning you before dropping bombs. But the good news is Asba in the shop gave us the route you’re following to the shop where her cousin works near the spaceport. And the great news is that we were the only ones captured – Spock and James should be fine.”
“Oh thank god,” he says, fervent.
You access the speeder’s admin menu again as he drives and change the transceiver code again, mainly for something to do, but partly in case the driver of the speeder you nearly hit decides to call the authorities. Then you review your route. The shop you’re going to is several levels higher than you are now; you hope your speeder won’t stick out too much up there.
There are plenty of new things to see out the window, though. As you get higher the buildings are cleaner, windows larger. The shops you see have more elaborate displays with fancier goods, there are more Mraden around, and, as the light begins to turn golden, you pass your first park, full of Mraden children playing.
“The GLG had a point,” you say, almost to yourself.
“In what way?”
“The higher you get, the nicer it is, and the more Madren I’m seeing. Obviously their methods are wrong but... I kind of get it.”
“When we get out of here, I’m going to tell the Federation negotiators that we shouldn’t agree to anything without conditions of the Ginera being discussed. It feels a little like letting the bad guys get what they want in a way, but you can’t make an entire culture suffer because a couple of kids make a stupid choice.”
“And they were probably manipulated, too. That doesn’t excuse them, but—” you lock eyes with a Mraden enforcer as you pass a junction. She recognises you, even through the glass, and mutters into a communicator of some kind.
“We’ve been spotted. Turn left! Now!”
Chris makes the turn, speeding up as he also changes up a level. He weaves in and out of traffic, trying to shake your tail, while you hold on for dear life, glad that you strapped in.
“Relax,” he says, as he takes another alarming turn, flying away from another chorus of horns. “My first assignment in Starfleet was as a test pilot.”
“That’s... um... good to know,” you say, weakly, as he brings you up another level and slows sharply. He takes the next turn at a much more sedate pace, before spotting an empty lane in front of you and speeding up again.
“Are we nearly there yet?” You ask, getting a laugh.
“Actually we are.” As you look around you realise you’re on the edge of the industrial district. Ahead you can just see some star ships, a large freighter and shuttles flying around it. “And hopefully we lost them.”
You reset the transceiver code for the third time, back to its factory default, as Chris makes a right between two tall buildings. You switch the transceiver off completely before he makes two more turns; hopefully it’s owner will be able to pick up the signal when it came on again and find it.
“I’ll come too this time.” Chris says, opening his door.
“Thank you for not crashing,” you say as you exit the speeder.
“Any time,” he says, and you both laugh as you enter the shop.
Where the last shop was cramped, this one is spacious. You recognise a lot more components here; they’re not Federation but they’re ship components and you understand what they do.
You and Chris find the small bin with the piece you need pretty quickly, but it’s locked, and you look around for help. You feel eyes on your back and you turn to see a Ginera male looking at you curiously.
“Excuse me,” you say, tone polite and not too eager, “do you know Jima? We’re looking for him.”
“I’m Jima,” he says, stepping closer. Chris puts his hand on your back; for your sake or his you can’t say.
“Asba sent us. She said you could help me get a component to fix my communicator?”
“Is this what you need?” He indicates the bin you were looking at. He pitches his voice quiet and you match it.
“Yes. This is the one I need.”
He unlocks the bin, takes a couple of transmitters out, and beckons you to follow, keeping an eye on the only other customer, a Mraden male. You pass between the aisles to the edge of the store, quietly following his lead, and go through a doorway.
“Asba called me, said you’d be coming. She also said to keep you out of sight. You should be safe here, to fix your tech. Call me if you need anything.” He steps back through the doorway as you hear some other customers enter the shop.
You put that out of mind though, as you hand Chris the communicator while you get your tools out. You can feel tension radiating off him as you take it back but you ignore that too. This is fixing things. It’s what you do. You open the cover and slot the component in, bending a couple of pins to fit and adjusting the power output to compensate for the non standard part.
“They were seen in this area. The speeder they stole is just out here.” Even though you’re concentrating, you can’t shut off your ears entirely. The people you thought were customers when they entered? Law enforcement.
You shut the cover again and hand it back to Chris.
“Didn’t I see them with you, Jima? They must be in the overflow storage.”
You hear loud footsteps as Chris says, “Pike to Enterprise! Get us out of here now!”
He reaches for your hand catching hold as the Mraden enforcement officers come through the door, and the gold light takes you, leaving them staring.
You thought you were glad to get back to Enterprise after you were on Earth. But that was nothing to how you feel now. You keep it together, however, in front of Number One, Spock, and the transporter technician.
“They said you were dead,”Number One says in greeting. “They showed us the burning building. They showed us your burnt communicator with the power cell removed. They said that was the only thing that survived.”
“What’s the quote? ‘The rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated’?” Pike shrugs, giving her a half smile.
“ ‘The report of my death was an exaggeration.’ I’m glad you’re okay, Chris, but don’t do that to me again. At least not for another month.”
You shower in your own quarters, having got your bruise treated in sickbay, trying to calm down. Away missions are still a lot. Chris told you to take twenty four before reporting for duty again, and you will, but you get a report written first – you need to make sure that Jima and Asba are safe, and that the ship sends some compensation to the person whose speeder you stole. That done, you check with the computer, change into civvies and join Chris in his quarters.
“Hey,” he says as you walk in, standing from where he was sitting by the window and drawing you into a hug, then a soft kiss. You bring a hand up to his face, running you fingers over the stubble that’s there after a very long day, and kiss him back, heated, your lips moving across his, his tongue licking into your mouth. You pull apart, staring up into his blue eyes.
“You were right,” he says, drawing you across the room to sit next to him on the couch. “There was a Mraden plot. Nera and Lakir have resigned, although they claim they didn’t know what was going on, and Tura and Sama, the Ginera second couple, have taken power until they can hold new elections. It’s going to be a tough road for Eloma, if they’re going to properly confront their problems, but the Federation will help.”
“I’m glad,” you say, leaning into him, enjoying how safe you feel with his arm around you. “I—I hope those boys’ sacrifice turns out to be worth it.”
“Yeah,” he says, kissing your head, and you sit in silence for few minutes.
“Dinner?” He asks eventually.
“Yes if we can have your chilli again. I think we’ve earned it.”
“Oh you definitely did,” he replies, standing to go over to the synthesiser.
“Lieutenant?” It’s two days later and you’re on your way to Engineering from the mess hall. You turn in the corridor, to see Number One standing there, an amused expression on her face.
“Next time he asks you to go on an away mission, just say no.”
CHRISTOPHER PIKE STAR TREK: SHORT TREKS, 2.02
i think we should all go back to writing academy era mckirk staring adhd jim, depressed mccoy and longsuffering dad chris pike
The Disco Stans only hate Pike because he takes away the story from their precious self-insert. There's nothing inherently bad about the man, he's just been given the chance to make that awful show a little more like Real Trek. The only problem I have with this version of him is how unlike he is to TOS Pike. Other than that? I'm absolutely satisfied with him.
The less self-insert-y garbage we get from Michael (sorry, y/n) the better, and no amount of calling Pike a “basic ass white man” in order to justify their unjustified dislike is ever going to change the fact that the Stans are just really desperate to be Special themselves so they latch onto Michael to do what they can't. Just admit you want to be the Best and the Most Special Person Ever™ yourself and project onto Michael instead of hiding behind “she's a strong black female lead!!” as an excuse for really poor taste in fiction and go, lmao.
PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG OR COMMENT IF YOUR INTENTIONS ARE ARGUMENTATIVE. THIS IS NOT AN OPEN DISCUSSION POST. IF YOU HAVE A DIFFERENT OPINION, THEN KINDLY MAKE YOUR OWN POST. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING.
Pike literally just looked at these kids and adopted them (not literally, but he considers them as family). But it’s a good thing he (kinda) has Bones to help him keep track of the others (mostly Jim, because that kid gets into a few fights at school while trying to defend a group of kids from the school bullies). 🤦🏻♂️
Sometimes Bones is not around—either he’s at work, home sick, or accidentally falling asleep in the library because he works too much on his school projects.
The others are always there for each other when in need of help and support. They are just a group like no other. And Pike loves and envies them for it.
<- Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 ->
Admiral Pike to Kirk, Spock and McCoy: why when anything happens is it always you three?
McCoy: believe me Admiral, I've been asking myself the same thing for six years
Be Bold. Be Brave. Be Courageous.
Who's ready for Star Trek: Strange New Worlds?! I'm SO excited! ✨🖖💖
Weird siblings; weird desert shenanigans, and an overall sense of foreboding? We're going to a place without a beginning, without an end, where the waters flow hidden beneath an empty sky. I recapped Scavenger Hunt by Christopher Pike!
Title: Scavenger Hunt Author: Christopher Pike Published: July 1989 Tagline: Pray they don’t find what they’re looking for . . . . Description: The hunt was on. School was almost over. A secretive club on campus had organized a scavenger hunt for the entire senior class. In small groups, and with the help of cleverly planted clues, the kids are led throughout the city, and then deep into the…
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Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕
Warnings: Cursing, a lil fluff, a lil angst. Y’all know me. (Still 😅) Summary: My first couple of weeks had been spent getting myself reacquainted with the ship, the crew.
I glanced back as Pike, Una, and Spock stepped onto the turbolift. It was odd, remaining on the Bridge for away missions-- I wasn’t sure I liked it, but I was getting used to it. In the two months I’d been back on the Enterprise, I’d been on a single away mission. It had lasted a total of five minutes, and I’d translated one word.
My first couple of weeks had been spent getting myself reacquainted with the ship, the crew. There was a fair amount to adjust to-- Paledore was a lieutenant now, and he was training up an ensign the way I’d once trained him. He did have a couple of my notebooks, but not all of them. That wasn’t to say that there weren’t interesting days on the Enterprise, there were. But it felt like I was being treated with kiddie gloves. I wasn’t sure who by-- the Captain, or Una perhaps. Either way, I was getting a little frustrated.
“Course,” I didn’t look away from my PADD and notebook as Una settled down beside me. She leaned over my work, but I didn’t hesitate in my writing as I might've before.
“Tamarian,” She commented lightly, turning back to her food. I hummed in affirmation.
“Your food is stone cold now, isn’t it,” She tacked on.
“Dunno. Haven’t checked.”
Una reached across, plucking one of the fries off of my plate and popping it into her mouth.
“Freezing,” She confirmed.
Una was quiet beside me for a moment before she pulled the pen out of my hand. I reached into my pocket, pulling out my back-up. Una made a little scoffing noise that bordered on a laugh.
“What is it?” She asked knowingly. I sighed, lowering my pen and looking at her.
“You realize I’ve left this ship once since I’ve been stationed here?”
“Well we didn’t bring you aboard for you to go running off again.”
“You know that that is not what I mean, Una,” I leaned back in my seat, glancing around the canteen, “When Thaleh was on the Bridge, she beamed down on away missions constantly. I beamed down on away missions more often than this when I was a lieutenant.”
“Not every away mission requires a Communications officer.”
“Perhaps not,” I conceded, “But you’ve had to comm me three times to translate something. It would be easier for me to beam down with the team, or to beam down afterward. When I offered, I was told not to.”
Una turned back to her food, taking a bite and mulling this over. I picked at my own, having no true appetite.
“If I’ve been brought back just to be benched, then I would’ve been better stationed on the Pinnacle,” I said softly; I hated saying it, but I hated how it felt even more. Una turned her head toward me without meeting my eye.
“... He may be more hesitant to bring you on missions now. You understand where he's coming from, don't you?”
“Of course I do,” I sighed softly, turning back to my food, “But if this is what my time on the Enterprise looks like going forward…”
“Let me talk to him,” Una said decisively. I glanced at her, frowning.
“I’ll take a first pass at it,” She offered, “If things still don’t change, we’ll bring in the big guns.”
“Who’s the big guns? Spock?”
Una raised a sharp brow, and my head tipped forward in disbelief.
“I’m the big guns?” I asked, stunned.
Una rolled her eyes, straightening and nudging my food toward me.
“Eat. No more Tamarian while I’m sitting here— I will confiscate that pen.”
It started with small missions to minimally inhabited planets. There were moments when I could still see Pike’s hesitation, a small twist of his mouth that he was quick to shield as a cough or a clearing of his throat. I never raised the issue, badly as I would’ve liked to. He was trying. He was trying, and the missions were being operated cleanly. The shifts on the Bridge without an away mission were always a little different; I had always known Pike in a certain way as Captain, but seeing him with that ease in the chair, day in and day out, was new for me.
“Why am I not surprised to see you down here?”
I didn’t still in my movements right away, completing the combo set before raising my hands to brace the swinging bag.
“Dunno,” I answered in a huff, a little out of breath from my drills, “What’s got you up?”
Christopher shrugged a little, setting his communicator and water bottle down on the bench, beside my things.
“One of those nights.”
I nodded a bit, sympathetic. I couldn’t help but wonder what was keeping his mind busy: our mission from that day, perhaps? But then, I hadn’t presumed to know what was on his mind for a long time. “Care to join me?” My brows raised in slight surprise at his offer; I watched as he took a couple of steps back toward the sparring mats. “...I don’t know, Captain,” I said lightly. I saw the slight and disappointed twist to his lips, the pause as he prepared to tell me, ‘some other time perhaps’, and I tacked on, “I’m not sure you could handle it.”
I had to fight to tamp down a wicked smile as Christopher’s eyes narrowed at me, his head turning just a little bit, as if he hadn’t heard me correctly. “Was that a challenge, Commander?” “Just don’t want you straining yourself, sir.” “Straining— that is a very pointed argument from someone that refuses to back it up.” I heaved a hefty sigh, taking a few steps toward him as he took up a fighting stance. “Well, if you insist—” I mirrored his pose. “Oh, insist?” “But you’re free to tap out at any time, Captain.” I felt a thrill run through me as Pike’s lips twisted into a smile; there was a glint in his eye that I hadn’t seen in a long time. “We’ll see who’s tapping out, Commander.”
-- “Where the hell did you learn the…” Pike trailed off, making the poking motion with his fore and middle finger. I laughed as I fought to catch my breath, sliding down the wall beside him. “Durling.” Christopher grunted, taking a swig from his water bottle before offering it to me. I took it with a mumble of thanks, drawing a long pull before passing it back. I was sweaty and sore, but I felt like I hadn’t smiled so much in a long time. Christopher and I had sparred for nearly an hour; it had felt like it used to, for the most part. We had trash-talked a fair amount, teased one another. But we didn’t know one another’s moves as we once had. We’d needed to find a new rhythm, and we’d damn near done it. I sighed softly, closing my eyes. I was tired now. A couple of hours before, I’d been certain that this would be a sleepless, frustrating night, but now? I wasn’t sure I could even lift myself off of the gym floor. “You’ve learned a few tricks,” Christopher muttered. I chuckled. “You’re one to talk. Almost took me out a few times yourself.” I was quiet for a few moments, focusing on my breathing. “...How are you?” I asked, “It’s weird, I feel like I see you all the time, but I never…” “I know what you mean,” Christopher murmured; I felt him turn his head to look at me, “And I’m… I’m alright, you know. It’s been quiet lately— the good kind of quiet.” I nodded a little, smiling. His knee knocked mine gently. “What about you? How’s the Enterprise been treating you?”
“It’s been better since you took the kid gloves off.” Christopher turned and ducked his head a little bit, pushing a sigh out through his nose, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. It was stunning to see him anything akin to bashful; even when he and I had been together, I had always been the one to shy away from things. “Listen,” He started quietly. “Chris,” I shook my head, smiling, “Don’t, s’okay. I...I get it. It was frustrating, but I get it.” Christopher glanced at me, his eyes a little soft and guarded. “It’s not… It’s not that I think you're…Incapable, or don't have expertise or skill—” “I know.” “I wanted you to just settle back in—” “Christopher—” “It’s been different, the situations you have been in are different. The bridge you’ve been working on under Durling, it was—” “Different, I know!” I couldn’t stop my amusement from seeping into my tone, “I’m not mad. It was just confusing for a bit. But… You’re not treating me like a piece of Andorian crystal anymore. So,” I shrugged a shoulder, smiling when Christopher huffed out a short laugh and closed his eyes, “So, you know, we’re fine.” “Are we?” “Are we what?” “Fine.” I was quiet for a moment, searching his face. “Course,” I murmured, “Why wouldn’t we be?” Chris nodded, “It’s just nice to hear.” My stomach fluttered with his admission. “...It’s nice to say,” I admitted in a mumble, turning to look back at the vacated mats. We were quiet for a few moments before Christopher patted my knee with a sigh of, “C’mon.” I could hardly focus on his standing, too set on the warmth from his touch, and the goosebumps that it had sent skittering up my thigh. I glanced up, taking hold of his hand when he offered it to me. I grunted as I reached my feet, huffing softly. “Thank you,” I sighed, turning to reach for my things, and trying not to reflect on the fact that neither Chris nor I let go of each other’s hands right away. The walk to the turbolift was pretty quiet; I tried not to reflect on the fact that we passed that supply closet; I’d thought about that supply closet a lot while I was away. I sighed, leaning back against the wall of the turbolift and shutting my eyes. I heard Christopher chuckle softly. “You look like you’re asleep on your feet.” “Feel it. You wore me out, Pike,” I admitted. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.” “I can take it. I can take it and like...Sleepwalk back to my room.” I opened my eyes as I felt the turbolift slow, the doors opening on my floor. “Night, Chris,” I sighed as I stepped off of the lift. “Night, sweetheart.” It was murmured behind me. I turned to look at him, brows raised in slight surprise, and he was offering me this gentle look from under his lashes as he leaned back against the wall of the lift. I grinned at him, and his smile widened as the lift doors slid shut. Those words would ring sweetly through my ears for the rest of the night; that smile on his face, that glint in his eye from the gym. It didn’t take me long to fall asleep. I woke up aching from the night’s workout, but I’d slept well. Chris was already on the Bridge when I reported for duty. I gave him a nod as I settled into my station, unable to help the small smile on my face. “Captain.” “Commander.” Tag list: @angels-pie ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles ; @inmyowncorner ; @tardis-23 ; @paintballkid711 ; @katrynec ; @hypnobananaangelfish ; @elen-aranel ; @blueeyesatnight ; @hotchswifey
I don’t think I will ever get over Captain Pike’s death
Episode 141 Star Trek Discovery Season 2. Eric and I go through all 14 episodes of Season 2 of Star Trek Discovery, discuss our views on the Red Angel Arc, our love of Pike, our disagreements on Michael Burnham, as well as our highs and lows of the season from design, to music, to story and characters. Discovery Season 2 overall Score: Bob 3, Eric 7.
How would you rate Discovery Season 2?
Do you feel Michael Burnham is a good addition to the backstory of Spock?
Anson Mount as Captain Christopher Pike 2019 in Star Trek Discovery "Perpetual Infinity"