Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The warm light from the nebula cast strange shadows over the consoles. Captain Christopher Pike reclined in his captain's chair on the bridge of the Enterprise. He wore a contemplative look with his chin propped up by his hand. His elbow rested on the thick arms of the chair.

 

As he sat there overlooking this unimportant nebula the bridge wasn't totally quiet. It buzzed with soft system pings and the distant, but very faint rumble of the warp core. Even those sounds felt muffled somehow. Like the ship was holding its breath.

 

They were currently on a charting mission to explore this unknown region of space; at least unknown until now. The only known structure was this nebula that Enterprise was hovering just outside of and even that hadn't been explored in depth yet.

 

Even though things seemed relatively calm, the bridge crew ran like a well-oiled machine and Pike couldn't be prouder.

 

It may just be a mapping mission, but this was what Enterprise was made for.

 

Exploring the unknown and uncharted.

 

Yet, despite the relaxed nature of the bridge at the moment, there was something about this nebula that put the captain ill at ease even if his demeanor said otherwise.

 

Maybe it was because the way the stars shimmered like dying embers. Or the tendrils that reached out into the cosmic black like veins of molten lava back on Earth.

 

Or, perhaps, it was the flickers of golden motion he kept seeing out of the corner of his vision on the viewscreen.

 

Yes, that had to be it.

 

He swore he could see that movement deep within the nebula, like something was out there. Alive. Which was impossible by current understanding of nebulas, but this was the Enterprise. They were used to the impossible.

 

Chris had noticed that Starfleet had tagged the nebula as inconsequential, but he had a feeling that it was far from. After all, here they were studying it.

 

He wished he could name just what was weirding him out about this particular nebula. Space never freaked him out. Not like this. It itched at the back of his mind.

 

He spotted that weird flash of movement again and yet it was gone by the time he focused in on it.

 

Something alive was out there. Chris was certain of it.

 

Why else would he be so unnerved?

 

Sure, there were stories about starships being haunted. That made sense to even him with how much death sadly happened in space.

 

But this felt different than that as he stared at the orange shades of the nebula.

 

It was just a nebula, right?

 

Christopher Pike had flown around a black hole, even had the Enterprise suck up EMs from a CME. Hell, he'd temporarily captained the Discovery and that was a trip and a half.

 

Yet, this particular nebula just set off some instinctual unease that they were being watched. That it wasn't what it seemed.

 

It definitely had more to it than met the eye.

 

He sat in the captain's chair, elbow propped up with his hand supporting his chin as he stared out at this particular sector of space.

 

He frowned.

 

"Anyone else feel that?" He asked, finally resigning to ask such a thing. Just to make sure he wasn't turning paranoid. Not that he was the type to, but weirder things had happened.

 

Like seeing his own death coming.

 

"Feel what, sir?" Give it to Spock to be oblivious to such an emotion. Well, perhaps not an emotion per say, but a gut feeling regardless.

 

Ortegas stared at the monitor. "Like you're being watched. Or like that nebula is watching you." She said in the same tone that one may share a spooky campfire story. She shuddered, clearly hating the sensation.

 

"Is that not the same thing?" He asked, looking as perplexed as a Vulcan could get.

 

Pike fought back a chuckle, knowing it wouldn't be very professional.

 

"I thought it was just me." Said La'an, sounding vaguely spooked. She crossed her arms and leaned back slightly in her chair at ops. Not as much as Erica had when she admitted it, but it was there. Below that mask of toughness they had all grown so used to.

 

"Apparently, it is not." Spock replied with a cocked eyebrow.

 

"Curious that you don't feel it, Spock." Said Erica, turning around in her chair to face him behind her.

 

"Vulcans simply do not believe in superstition unlike you humans do."

 

An idea formed in the captain's mind. It was a small one, but perhaps it could put them all at ease.

 

"Spock, scan for life signals. If there's anything out there our sensors our bound to pick up on it. Maybe that will put this paranoia to rest." He suggested.

 

The Vulcan nodded. That, at least, seemed logical. He turned around to activate the ship's scanners, both long range and short. Just in case.

 

After a short while the scanners beeped, but it wasn't the tone they were all hoping for.

 

"Scans are negative for any life forms." He read out loud.

 

Well…shit.

 

That didn't explain anything.

 

Captain Pike didn't dare say it out loud on professional grounds, but he knew it was what they were all thinking.

 

He did mutter, "Dammit." Under his breath as he shifted positions, however.

 

Spock, however, took notice. "Sensors are normal," Spock offered, unprompted. "Yet you remain…troubled, captain." He observed.

 

Pike didn't turn from the viewscreen. "Vulcans never fail to amaze me. You really don't feel that, Spock?" He fought the urge to point out that everyone else did.

 

There was a pause. "…I feel the absence of data and the unease it creates."

 

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Was that an attempt at humor?" A few heads turned with a range of amused expressions.

 

"It was not, captain. My apologizes if it came out as such."

 

It didn't make any sense. The sensors basically read nothing but gas and starlight. Yet, something in his chest curled tight. That kind of silence that wasn't peace. Anticipation, perhaps, but definitely not peace. It reminded him of the breath before a photon torpedo hit, or the final, razor-edge second before a fight broke out on a diplomatic mission gone south.

 

Erica swiveled her chair toward Spock, one hand gesturing vaguely at the nebula. “Great, so there could be something out there and we wouldn’t even know it until we saw it on the viewscreen."

 

"Technically, it's a nebula." Spock chimed from the science station.

 

"Technically, I don't give a f-."

 

"Guys!" The captain chided, preventing the bickering from getting any worse. The two shut up immediately, knowing full well Chris didn't like fighting among his crew. Especially on the bridge.

 

Bickering? Sure. Banter? Absolutely. But this threatened to escalate to a full on argument if not properly reigned in.

 

"Look, we've dealt with weird things before," Some of them hadn't turned out well like the Gorn, but they had gotten through it. Or even the Illyrians back on that colony planet. "But cmon, we're Enterprise guys, dealing with the weird is our middle name."

 

Spock opened his mouth to say that could not be possible before Uhara piped up, "It's an idiom, Sir."

 

"Thank you, Ensign." Spock replied, softly.

 

Spock's console chirped and the Vulcan turned towards it. "It would seem those twin white dwarves are dying, sir. It could be interfering with our visual capabilities."

 

This nebula was beautiful on its' own but against the backdrop of two white dwarves orbiting each other? Breathtaking. Perhaps, under other circumstances, Chris could've enjoyed such a view. Right now, however, that weird anxiety just continued with the occasional flicker of movement within the cloud.

 

Pike straightened, fingers drumming lightly on the arms of the Captain's Chair. "Could that be a factor to what we're seeing, Mr Spock?" He asked.

 

"It is a possibility, yes. The radiation they are putting out have been known to compromise sensors." Among other things, the Vulcan added, but best not add to the…anxiety of the bridge crew. None of it seemed to put Enterprise in danger at the moment. If that were to change, however, he would certainly bring them up.

 

Una frowned from where she sat at navigation, fingers fidgeting against the smooth glass. She was also aware of the dangers that such a binary system would bring to a starship like their's.

 

"Are you sure the radiation won't interfere with standard ops?" She asked, turning a few heads.

 

"Quite certain, sir." Spock said as the light from the nebula played across his face. "If we maintain this distance from the binary system, it will not have any impacts.

 

"Noted." Commented Erica from her station next door. "Stay away from the bright shiny death stars."

 

Spock wanted to point out that white dwarfs, even in their dying phases such as these, weren't technically "Death stars." However, the captain had snapped at their bickering earlier and he did not want to start another round. Even if Erica seemed to enjoy the banter.

 

Chris seemed to be oblivious to the conversation. He caught himself leaning towards the viewscreen, the glow of the nebula pulling at his focus with a strange gravity he couldn't explain. It was almost like the nebula was calling him, but for reasons he didn't know.

 

Awkwardly, he shifted back in the Captain's Chair, hoping that no one else had caught the postural change.

 

That pull was weird. It worried him, but he made sure it didn't show. No need to weird out the crew any further than they already were. He'd never felt anything like that before and certainly not from something non sentient. Supposedly non-sentient. Those flashes of movement within the cloud suggested something was out there. They weren't repetitive so that ruled out anything nature-based.

 

Perhaps a draw wasn't so weird if those things proved to be sentient life forms. They had discovered weirder before. Like the nebula that had turned the entire ship into a kingdom from M'Benga's book. It wasn't totally out of the question then, for a life form to take on the appearance of space features.

 

"There!" Erica exclaimed, leaning forward a little. It made the Captain startle a little. Hopefully nobody saw that either. "I knew I wasn't seeing things!"

 

The glimmer of light on the Enterprise's viewscreen. It pulsed golds and oranges and yellows, seemingly made of pure energy. It certainly cut a stark contrast against the blues of the nebula. It moved fluidly, almost flying through the vacuum of space before disappearing back into the gaseous cloud.

 

It was their first real glimpse of…whatever that was. Whatever it was that they had only been seeing out of the corners of their eyes. Little flickers of movement continued from deep within the nebula in front of them.

 

"Never suggested you were, Leiutenant." Captain Pike said casually. He had seen them too, after all.

 

"Fascinating." Spock said, which made Chris turn in his seat.

 

"Care to elaborate, Mr. Spock?" Asked Chris.

 

Spock turned back to the console, presumably running a few more scans. "They appear to be some sort of life form, and yet nothing show up on the scanners. I have even widened the parameters and still, they come back clean." He explained.

 

Erica looked weirded out, her lips thinned into a tight frown. "But that was something, right? That wasn't just space doing space things." She asked as she swiveled around to look at Spock.

 

The choice of words shot that Vulcan eyebrow up. "Correct. One can assume that that, as the Liuetenant aptly put it, is not just space doing space things based on movement alone. One can assume that it is a sentient being since they moved with intention."

 

"Which means we aren't alone out here." Una glanced over from nav, her tone measured.

 

"Correct."

 

Erica jerked her head in a short shake and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Just another day on Enterprise" as she swiveled back around.

Chapter Text

It had been a pretty uneventful shift after that. They had not caught any more decent views of whatever lived in Azura-9. Whatever it was flashed from deep within like lightning flashing from deep within a thunderhead.

The nebula's glow lingers in Chris' vision long after he turns away from the viewscreen. Chris' shift had long since ended, yet he still felt restless. The nebula's glow seemed to linger in his mental vision. He tells himself it's just residual light, like staring into a sun for too long, but it feels…different.He swore he still felt that weird as hell draw that he felt on the bridge earlier today.

 

Whatever it is, it lingers out of reach. A low hum behind his thoughts. A flicker of heat where there shouldn’t be any at all.

 

It made him uneasy. Even here, in the privacy of his quarters, he swears he can still feel it.

 

The captain stared out of his wall of windows at the nebula with a very slight frown. A glass of brandy was in his hand although it was hardly even touched. He hoped that perhaps it could take the edge off whatever was affecting him, but some instinct told him even the strongest liquor wouldn't.

 

Chris jumped a little when the computer chimed someone was at the door and called, "Come."

 

Una Chin-Riley, his second, walked in with her usual brisk stride. She clasped her hands behind her back, posture rigid.

 

"Did Spock set you up to this?"

 

A near snort of amusement came from the brunette. "If Spock was worried, he would've come on his own."

 

"True that." He said as he sipped at the amber liquor. "He's never been one for hiding behind others."

 

"Unlike some I could name." Una chuckled.

 

"I'm assuming this isn't just a friendly visit?" Asked the captain with a quirked eyebrow. He noted the hands behind Una's back, a typical, formal position for anyone in the fleet. Chris decided that Una definitely hadn't just come for friendly banter and chatter.

 

"With all due respect, sir…what happened on the bridge today?" Una asked, gesturing in the vague direction of said bridge.

 

"Actually," He winced at Una's harsh tone even though he knew it came from worry. "I was wondering that myself. It made no sense to me either if that's helpful." He knew it wouldn't be, but that draw had been something that he'd never experienced before. As such, it weirded him out even though he managed to keep that under wraps as much as he could.

 

He takes another sip of the brandy. There wasn't a whole lot in the glass. "I'm pretty sure the entire crew noticed that today." Una pointed out bluntly.

 

"Una, if I wanted a chewing out I'd have gone to Admiral April," He teased. "Even I'm not sure what that was. It was….like I was drawn towards that nebula out there. I don't know why, but I swear it's calling me." He said, knowing full well how crazy that sounded. "And before you ask, no, I'm not compromised."

 

"I never said you were, Chris." Una pointed out, her tone softer. She relaxed her arms, letting them fall to her sides as the tension in her shoulders eased and she took a breath. "But I've known you longer than most of the crew. I hate to admit it, but something's off."

 

Chris didn't know whether to be pleading, or unamused with that. "Was it really that obvious?"

 

She shoo, her head. "I don't think so. Nobody else has brought their concerns to me." Yet, she added quietly. "But if it goes on, please tell me you'll get it checked out."

 

Pike went to sip at his brandy before nodding. With the glass finished, he set it down on the table to be dealt with later. "You know I will, Number One."

 

Una nodded. "Good. Let me know if anything changes." Leave it to Una to pick up on things not being right. Subtle things that the rest of the crew may miss.

 

"Una, you know I will." Chris pointed out stubbornly.

 

"Sometimes I do wonder." Una replied teasingly.

 

A good natured eye roll was earned. "If you're done chewing me out, get out of my quarters." He retorted in that same teasing/joking tone.

 

"Yes, sir." Una replied, giving a mock salute of old earth and biting back the very childish urge to stick out her tongue.

 

She could hear Chris chuckle as she turned and left.

 

~~~~

Later that night Chris finally retired to bed. Sleep didn't seem to come easy and he tossed and turned.

 

Sleep doesn't claim him right away. When he finally did fall asleep, it came with a buzzing sensation. One he's had before and hadn't come from the brandy earlier that evening. It was that weird buzzing sensation one had when they're aware of actually falling asleep. Or waking up, for that matter.

 

He hovered in this weird liminal space of more asleep than awake. A hum entered his hearing which was weird because starships didn't hum. Something presses against him mind in this half-asleep state. Something foreign, but not unpleasant. Like the rays of warm sunshine back in Montana on a hot summer's day. It pressed at the edge of his consciousness like it wasn't sure about making itself known.

 

A flash of gold crashed against Chris' closed eyelids and his body jerked awake to full consciousness. His chest heaved as he tried to make sense of what happened. He knew his room was empty. Chris knew logically that his room was empty. The only one he shared with it, Captain Batel, was off galavanting the stars like he was in her own starship.

 

So what the hell had that been?

 

Chris could've sworn somebody was poking around his head. It wasn't unheard of to come across telepathic species now and then. Spooked, he called out, "Computer, lights." The lights turned on. He winced at the brightness having been in pitch black just moments before

 

Nothing.

 

He was alone as he had expected.

 

He told the computer to turn them off again. Chris flopped back into his bed, concerned. Sure, he'd had nap jerks before, but none of them had felt like that.

 

The Captain crawled back under the disheveled sheets, trying to calm his racing mind. There was an infinite possibility of what that could have been. Everything from something mundane to something serious. He hoped it was the later. Something mundane.

 

Perhaps it was time to visit sickbay and have Joseph check him out. Just in case. It wouldn't hurt anyway especially if these bizarre happenings went on for much longer.

 

Or maybe he would give it a day just to see if it cleared up on its own. It wasn't that he didn't like visiting Joseph. He didn't like visiting his old friend when he was bound to get a hypo in the neck.

 

Chris stared into the darkness of his room, his eyes adjusting back to it. He sighed, half wondering what time it was. "Computer, time?" He asked. The computer chimed back before replying, "0300 hours."

 

Great, that left at least three more hours before he had to get up for Alpha shift. Weird that it felt like he'd just fallen asleep and had that nap jerk happened. He sighed as he tossed and turned, struggling to get comfortable again.

 

An hour passed.

 

And then another.

 

Chris just simply couldn't get comfortable enough to fall back asleep. He tried fluffing the pillows. He tried rearranging the sheets or even laying on top of them, but nothing worked.

 

Restlessly, he flopped back down with a frustrated sounding sigh. "Time?"

 

"0530."

 

Lovely. That was just great. Another hour and a half and he'd have to get up.

 

He stared into the darkness, almost pouting.

 

Well, at this rate he may as well get up. No sense in going back to bed only to toss and turn for the next hour and a half.

 

With a tone of defeat he uttered, "Computer, lights." The affirming chirp came again and the lights faded on.

 

Chris sat up and then got up, heading towards the shower. Perhaps he'd take breakfast today in the mess hall rather than on his own. He hadn't done that in a while. He got undressed and hopped in, frowning when he turned on the shower and the lights flickered a little.

 

Huh, that was odd.

 

Definitely something to look into later if it didn't present itself on its own. Knowing his crew, it almost certainly would. Starship power wasn't supposed to flicker like that.

 

The shower continued unabated with no more weird happenings. He got dressed in his command uniform before heading out with one last time check.

 

~~~~

 

It didn't take long for the captain to find the mess hall, of course. He walked in and glanced around to see who was here. There weren't many up at this early of an hour. He spotted Una almost immediately.

 

Ignoring head turns, Chris went to order some breakfast from the replicator and some coffee. He walked over to Una's table with the tray in hand.

 

"Mind if I join you?" He asked on approach and Una glanced up from the PADD she was reading.

 

"Of course not, it's not like there's anyone else here." She teased.

 

"I thought I would be polite and ask. I've learned to never assume anything." That perked up the Illyrian's eyebrow.

 

He set down the tray and mug before scooting the chair out. He sat down and scooted back in. "Anything interesting?" Yup, there were definitely heads turned in his direction, but he ignored them. It wasn't like he never joined them at meals in the mess hall before.

 

Una shook her head. "Mostly reports and the such." She said and looked up from the PADD. "You're up early. Alpha isn't for another two hours or so."

 

The captain shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. I figured why waste time tossing and turning when I could just get up."

 

"Makes sense." Una replied, frowning when the mess hall lights flickered briefly. Heads that had gone back to their breakfasts turned upwards at that, looking mildly spooked.

 

"That's not normal…" Said Chris hesitantly. He could've sworn the cadet from the table behind them go, "no shit" under their breath but he let it fly.

 

Una made to get up, presumably to reprimand the cadet for talking to him that way. Said cadet blanched as they realized they'd been overheard.

 

Chris raised a hand. "Una, let it go."

 

"But sir!"

 

"I think it's a warranted response in this situation." He chuckled and even added, "No shit, indeed."

 

Chris did make a mental note to ask the bridge about it but only after he was done eating. It didn't seem to be anything serious at the moment. Of course, things tended to escalate rapidly on a starship this far out.

 

Una sat back down and eyed him as she took a bite of her own food. "What?" He asked.

 

"Aren't you going to call bridge?"

 

He shrugged. "Eventually. Meanwhile these pancakes aren't getting any warmer. If it was urgent, they'd call me on a panel." He pointed out.

 

Una cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead, she went back to eating and reading those reports.

 

The rest of breakfast continued without issue.

 

No more weird lights flickering.

 

Well, or so Chris thought.

 

He'd just been putting the tray back into the replicator to be disposed of when the lights flickered again and he looked up. This time, with more crew in the mess hall there was definitely a distinctive muttering amongst them.

 

"Bridge to Captain Pike." Came La'an's voice over the PA.

 

Chris had told Una that the bridge would contact him if things got more serious. Apparently they had. He walked over to the nearest control panel.

 

"Pike here."

 

"We seem to have a situation."

Chapter Text

"Pike here." Said Chris as he answered the ping.

 

The coffee in his mug was lukewarm now, but the mug itself still retained some heat. He wrapped his other hand around it to warm them as he listened to La'an.

 

"We seem to have a situation, sir." Came La'an's voice from the console.

 

"What sort of situation?" He could guess as to what it was with the lights flickering. As to the cause of it, he couldn't even begin to guess. Well, okay he could, but it was better to hear from the lieutenant than to make his own assumptions.

 

"The main grid has been in flux ever since 0400 this morning, sir. We're running analysis currently."

 

"Any idea what's causing it?" Chris asked, pretty sure that everyone in the mess hall could hear their conversation. He didn't really care since it was nothing that needed clearance. They all knew about that dying white dwarf binary system. They all knew about the nebula they were studying. They all knew about the flickering lights too. There was no hiding that.

 

"We have several theories. One of which is the dying binary system is throwing off enough radiation to interfere with our systems."

 

That sounded fair. Chris frowned, regardless. "So, if we back up the systems will go back to normal?"

 

"Theoretically, yes, according to the Lieutenant Yarrow." La'an said. "They reassure me that we can still continue studying the nebula from the far side without the radiation reaching so far." He'll have to confer with Spock later to see if Yarrow was correct.

 

Chris nodded, but then remembered that La'an couldn't see that. "Good, get it done then."

 

"Affirmative. La'an out."

 

The channel clicked off, and the quiet din of breakfast chatter slid back in. Pike let his gaze drift — officers hunched over trays, an engineer prodding a PADD, two ensigns leaning in close over steaming mugs. Some had dinner plates as they'd just gotten off the overnight shift and were probably headed to bed shortly. A few heads had lifted during the call, curiosity flickering before they returned to their meals. The air felt…not tense, but waiting for something.

 

He stepped away from the console after that and headed back to the table. He sat back down under Una's watchful gaze, a question also on her face. He sipped his coffee.

 

"What, you didn't hear all of that? I'm pretty sure this half of the mess hall did." He teased.

 

Una shrugged. "I try not to listen in when it's not my place." A crew member, a different person than earlier, snorted in amusement. They soon quailed under Una's glare.

 

"While it's my job to handle the crew, I respect privacy. Unlike some." She huffed pointedly.

 

Chris raised a teasing eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

 

Una looked unamused, though her tone was teasing. "Shut up and tell me what bridge had to say." She playfully whapped him on the bicep.

 

He jokingly rubbed his arm before saying, "They think it's the binary white dwarfs interfering with the main grid. La'an's going to move her round to the far side of the nebula where we hopefully won't have as much interference."

 

Una nodded. "Good. Hopefully we can still study this nebula without any other slip ups." Chris may have used glitches, but that was Una.

 

He sipped at his coffee and continued at his breakfast, well aware of the murmurs and soft conversations from those who'd overhead. If anything, telling them outright kept the rumor mill from overheating. If anything, the eavesdropping would've calmed some of the crew members. It certainly would out a stop to any rumors running around the ship.

 

Chris noticed Una's lingering gaze. "What?"

 

"I don't know, you seem…tired." She said.

 

A shrug.

 

"I didn't sleep well last night. It's nothing new." He replied casually with a sip.

 

"Chris, you know as well as I that we need our captain fully rested."

 

Chris looked unamused, sipping at the last of his coffee regretfully.

 

"Are you lecturing me?"

 

"I'm asking as a concerned friend and your Number One." Una pointed out, her voice tinged with exasperation.

 

"Una, I'm fine. One night of poor sleep isn't going to make or break anything." Chris argued.

 

Una sighed, figuring it best probably to let it go. She knew full well how stubborn Chris could get about certain things. Including his health.

 

A momentary clatter of silverwear distracted Chris from the conversation at hand. He realized Una was still talking with a frown and turned back, trying to hide the slip with a final sip of coffee.

 

“Sorry?” The captain frowned when he realized Una was still talking to him.

 

Una's expression darkened a little. “I was saying that we should start taking logs of when these power fluctations happen.” She wanted to ask if Chris was up for a shift today, but somehow that didn't seem professional. Especially in somewhere as well-frequented as the mess hall was right now.

 

Chris nodded. “Y-Yes, we should. I'm sure the computer logs them, but it would be a good idea to track them anyway. To see if there's any causality.”

 

That was her line of thinking exactly. If these power fluctations were happening on a regular basis then they should have a cause. They should have a cause anyway, but it'd make it easier to track down.

 

“Precisely.” She said with a nod. “That way we can figure out if it's truly the binary system or not interfereing with our systems.”

 

The lights faltered, plunging the mess hall into a red wash from the emergency strips. Conversations stuttered; forks hovered midair. A PADD dropped and clattered against a table.

 

The captain could've sworn there was the faintest warm brush against his collarbone. The brush lingered for just a second just a moment too long, enough for him to stiffen and draw in a shallow breath. Just as fast as it had come, it was gone and the lights were back up to full strength. He swallowed his unease with a final sip, debating if more coffee was needed. A chair scraped uneasily against the floor somewhere in the momentary dark.

 

The white glow of the overheads snapped back, too bright after the sudden red, making Pike blink. He swallowed the last of his coffee to hide the hesitation in his hands. This was nothing — just a trick of his sleepless night, the mind playing catch-up. That was the story he’d stick to.

 

It was probably nothing. At least that's what he to,d himself, but it didn't quite stick. A trick of his exhaustion, perhaps. A side effect of a restless night tossing and turning. He knew if the captain stared jumping at shadows, the rest of the crew would follow. Best to leave this one alone as it was just another mystery to add to the list.

 

He glanced up, catching Una’s gaze across the table. He noticed Una's eyes steady in him, her expression bland. The slight tilt of her head said she'd seen everything. He swallowed the last of the coffee to hide his embarrassment. He hoped Una wouldn't bring it up and if he knew her, she wouldn't. Not until they were somewhere more private than the mess hall.

 

A few worried murmurs rippled through the room as the lights flared back to normal.

 

One such yeoman spoke up.

 

“If the lights keep flickering like this, they'll start doing breakfast by candlelight.” Which, of course, was impossible on a starship but the yeoman was clearly trying to lower the tension of the room.

 

“Careful, I may just make it regulation.” Pike quipped back at them, which got a good chuckle from the tables nearby.

 

That got a few chuckles from the crewmen who were eating breakfast with them. The tension in the room drooped, which had been his intention.

 

Chris let the laughter settle before leaning slightly back in his chair. The hum of the warp engines permeated the ship like a very faint din. It was louder the closer you got to engineering. Most of the time Chris was so acclimated he didn't hear it. Today, it seemed to come to the forefront of his senses. It sounded off. Mildly so, but it was something to look into once he started his shift.

 

He glanced over at the digital chronometer on the wall. Still half an hour to go. Perhaps another coffee was, in fact, to be had. Chris moved to get up which gained Una's attention with a questioning look.

 

"Just getting another cup." He said as he grabbed his mug.

 

The captain walked over to the replicator and muttered, "Coffee, black." He looked around the mess hall as he waited, watching crew members getting ready for Alpha. That's when he noted M'Benga walk in.

 

"Odd for you to have a second cup so close to Alpha." M'Benga said as he ordered his own cup.

 

"Eh, well, I have time. I can always pound down the thing if I need to." He said with a shrug.

 

A crash turned their heads along with Una at the table. Some poor half-asleep lieutenant had dropped their glass. Shards lay around their feet and their hands looked bloodied.

 

"I better go and see to that." Said M'Benga after picking up his mug from the replicator.

 

Chris nodded. He kept a decidedly firmer grip on his. The captain did feel bad for the lieutenant. Breaking anything was never fun unless it was the sound barrier.

 

He soon returned to Una's table.

 

"Exciting morning." She joked which got a snort from him as he sat down.

 

He sipped the scalding coffee. "Yeah. Power fluctuations and a poor crewman dropping their glass. Makes me wonder what Alpha has in store for us."

 

Una chuckled and they lapsed into silence. The click of silverware against plates and glasses and mugs against tables filled it.

 

"You really should get that fatigue checked out." Una said again after taking a breath.

 

Chris scowled into his half drained mug. He finished it before speaking, noticing the clock on the wall read fifteen minutes.

 

Still plenty of time to get to the bridge after disposing of it.

 

"Just drop it, Number One. One bad night won't kill me." He retorted and moved to stand up. Una, noticing the time, did so as well. She fought the urge to point out that it theoretically could in certain situations.

 

Noticing her look as Chris headed over to dispose of the mug, he walked back. "Alright, alright, if it continues, I'll pay our dear doc a visit, better?"

 

"Better." Una nodded.

 

"What is it you're reading anyway?" Chris asked as he downed another gulp of coffee.

 

"Just some crew reports. Nothing too exciting."

 

Chris nodded and the two fell into a comfortable silence as the din of the mess hall took over.

 

The ten minute warning for Alpha shift chimed on the PA. Those who were eating breakfast and not their dinners started getting up and clearing their tables.

 

Thankfully they both walked fast so Chris was reassured dthat they would make it in time to clock in.

 

"I guess that's our cue." He said as he pushed the chair back to get up, finishing the mostly empty mug. Una got up as well, the reassuring weight of her PADD in hand.

 

The atmosphere of the mess hall had returned to normal. Crewmen chattered away. One or two snippets Chris could hear mentioned the lights earlier, but nothing else significant. Silverware clicked against plates. Mugs and cups against tables. The chatter was easy-going. If someone walked in right now out of the loop they would not have noticed anything had gone wrong just minutes before.

 

Even M'Benga wrapping a bloodied hand wasn't out of the picture.

 

The captain of the Enterprise walked with a steady gait over to the replicator. He wasn't here for a third mug of coffee, which would've sent his hands shaking, but rather to dispose of his current mug. He placed it inside and it dematerialised.

Chapter Text

Alpha shift was blessedly done.

 

The turbolift doors hissed shut behind him and deposited him on the same deck as his quarters. He walked down the corridor, glad to be done.

 

It had dragged on and on, as boring as any routine extended stellar observation mission was. Eight weeks of this was going to be pure, boring hell unless something interesting happened. He half wondered if Admiral April was doing this just to give him crap.

 

He had half the kind to call and beg him to choose anyone else for this. The Admiral had said that they were the only ones in the sector, but Chris didn't know if he believed that. Not that Admiral Bob April had a personal vendetta against him, but it sure as hell felt like it.

 

The doors to his quarters hissed open softly. He walked through them and they closed behind him.

 

The bridge was comfortable enough, but it was good to be home away from home.

 

Chris decided to change into something more comfortable and pour himself a small glass of brandy. He settled on the couch along the outer hull of his ship, practically glaring at the nebula.

 

Damn Azura-9 to draw Starfleet's attention and drag them out here. Sure they were Starfleet's finest, but didn't really have to be them? Couldn't they have sent literally anyone else?

 

Chris counted to glare at the nebula half-heartedly. He wondered what had grabbed Starfleet's attention with it. It was literally just a stellar nursery that would eventually create other suns.

 

The twin decaying white dwarves were interesting enough. Maybe it was the combination of the two. Maybe there was something Starfleet hadn't told him and that's why his ship got sent out here on the galaxy's most boring mission ever.

 

Chris took another sip and sat his glass of brandy down on the coffee table and leaned over to pick up the PADD. He dialed in April's line without expecting him to actually answer.

 

Answer he did.

 

"Chris, already calling two days in?" Came the amused question.

 

"Bob, why the hell did you send us out here when you have literally any other shop available?" Chris' tone was light, teasing but also not.

 

April chuckled at the directness. Leave it to his former XO to cut to the chase. "I told you Chris, you're the only one in the area with the tech capabilities we need to study that nebula."

 

"But eight weeks? That seems a little excessive." Pike complained as he took a sip of the amber liquid.

 

A chuckle. "Not when you factor in that binary white dwarf system. We haven't come across anything close to this particular setup yet."

 

"Uh-huh." Chris replied, sounding like he didn't buy it. His skepticism was enough to sand blasted the hull plating.

 

"We would've sent anyone else if we could've and you know it."

 

So that was it. Just a turn of bad and boring luck. Hopefully that was it.

 

"But eight weeks?" Pike hated how plaintive his tone was getting and checked it.

 

“Yes, Chris. Eight weeks unless something more urgent comes up. The Cayghua would’ve handled it, but they’re tied up with a diplomatic mess. Still in your sector, though, so if you run into trouble—”

 

“You mean if I get so bored I stage a mutiny,” Pike muttered.

 

April ignored him. "-you can call her. Who knows, maybe you'll find an m-class in there to explore. Stranger things have happened." The Admiral gave him an infuriatingly cheerful grin before, "April out." And cut the line.

 

Pike stared at the standby screen on his PADD. The hum of the ship felt louder in the silence. He swallowed the last of the brandy, letting the burn settle in his chest.

 

Great, they got stuck with the charting mission while Batel got to go have all the fun.

 

Just his luck.

 

Well, hopefully the nightcap will help him settle down and sleep. He had promised Una that if he had another sleepless night he'd get checked out in sickbay.

 

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

 

With a sigh Pike set to reading the few reports he'd gotten since they arrived. He knew they wouldn't be interesting, but such was the life of a Starfleet captain.

 

The glorious moments often came hand in hand with the inglorious moments. He thought to himself begrudgingly.

 

It would just be like April to hand him the galaxy's most boring job. Sure, they were the enterprise. Deep space explorers and all that. But did that really have to entail something as boring as mapping? The captain was almost certain Starfleet had ships that did just mapping, so why send them?

 

Chris stared at the now empty glass with a sigh. Reluctantly he got up and walked over to the kitchen where he deposited it in the sink to be dealt with later. Maybe he should start working on those reports that he had stacked up in his PADD. That could help him fall asleep since reports were almost always boring.

 

He walked back over to the couch, staring momentarily at the nebula before turning his PADD on and getting to work on the other boring aspect of being captain.

 

Time passed and soon enough Chris had made his dinner and eaten it after doing the reports. He settled in for a steaming hot shower before changing into his sleepwear and getting ready for bed.

 

Pike settled down in said bed, pulling the sheets over himself. "Comouter, turn off lights." And the confirming chime came along with the lights dimming to black. The nebula swirled off in the distance and even further was the glare of the two dying dwarves. He could see both clearly from his quarters. The hairs on his neck stood up as it felt like someone was watching him.

 

He shook it off, blaming the long shift after the previously sleepless night. There was nothing out there except that, so why that particular sensation? Chris knew he wasn't paranoid. He didn't take such a thing like that lightly and yet, he still brushed it off.

 

Like he'd brushed off the warm flutter against his collarbone when the lights went off this morning.

 

The captain sighed as he laid there, staring at the nebula and willed himself to drift off.

 

It took him a few tosses and turns, but he managed to fall asleep after an hour under the glow of the nebula.

 

Chris would be thankful in the morning to finally fall asleep that night. No visit to the sickbay would be needed and for that, he was grateful. Not that he didn't mind visiting M'Benga and Nurse Chapel, but those hyposprays got quite annoying.

 

Christopher Pike drifted off, semi conscious of the warp drive changing tune, presumably to keep the binary system on the far side of the nebula.

 

Sleep came blissfully fast tonight and passed without much of anything.

 

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, a few hours before his 0530 alarm, the captain of the Enterprise dreamt.

 

It was such a weird dream. A dream that was more flashback than it was anything else.

 

He was back on that colony with the Illyrians that had de-bioengineered themselves. Reliving that moment, he stood in front of the doorway weirdly alone. Just him. Somewhere in his mind Chris knew that wasn't right. Spock should be here too, reading those journals from the colonists. He glanced around to look for him with the phaser in hand, certain he should be right there beside him, but he wasn't.

 

The ion storm still raged outside, a swirling whirlwind of dark and wind and lightning. He grunted as his ears popped like he was on a test flight taking off. He swore he could feel that thunder rattling his bones.

 

Chris flexed his jaw, trying to get the pressure to go away. Both his hands were on the phaser. The captain stumbled a little against the wall as dizziness hit him. He watched the beings on the other side pound on the door, trying to ignore the feeling. He noticed, quite suddenly, a pressure elsewhere. His abdomen. It felt sort of like he'd eaten too much. Something else pressed at him from inside, not pain, not fullness, just the impossible sensation of being accompanied.

 

That was weird….

 

He looked down, but nothing seemed to have changed. He filing it away in the face of a more immediate danger. As he looked up again, the door wasn’t a door anymore. It was one of the Enterprise's bulkheads and it bowed inwards. His eyes went huge and immediate fear took over. Chris blinked, and it was a window. The same window. Its glass was definitely caving inwards under the storm’s weight, ready to shatter. It threatened to buckle under the storm's power.

 

Wait, hadn't Spock said that there were no signs of the beings hurting the colonists? That they appeared with these ion storms? There was a blank area where that should've been said and it unnerved the Enterprise's captain.

 

Chris shifted his posture to run. Maybe he could make it behind those walls and down the hall they'd come in through. He took off the second it started cracking. He had just reached the door when time seemed to reset and he was back in front of that window.

 

"Down!" He exclaimed to no one as he dropped his phaser and his body to the floor, wincing at the impact. Not a second too soon did that bending window smash inwards. Shards of glass flew into the room. Thankfully, he wasn't close enough to get cut.

 

Hopefully by being low to the ground it would minimize the ion storm's impacts. He winced as the storm raged into the room all howling wind blowing particulates around him. Chris raised his elbows to cover his head as he'd been taught to at the academy and as a kid in school. Weirdly, none of the little bits of dirt and stuff seemed to sting or pierce him.

 

He took a chance to look up as the storm broke in. Suddenly, it wasn't particulates blown in by the wind but stardust. That wasn't the ion storm he could see encroaching, it was the nebula all golds and yellows.

 

Pike didn't have time to think all that through because the door was knocking ever harder again. It's bangs turned to screeches as it was opened by whatever those beings were.

 

There it was again, that sound. That sound that he and Spock had heard when the creatures first appeared. It danced around him, teasingly like the creatures were communicating without words.

 

Oh shit, looks like they made it through the doorway. He thought distantly to himself.

 

Chris braced himself against the winds now whipping around the room, glancing up in time to see the beings surrounding him. They seemed to create a protective shell as calm settled over him. He looked up to see these golden beings doing exactly that. They were shielding him from the storm. What filaments touched him were warm and inviting. Certainly not the same ones that had lashed out through the doors and given Spock that cut.

 

The storm seemed to last forever and yet it only was a few minutes of that howling wind and sandblasting and the thunder.

 

Pike chanced a glance up. These creatures…they were so similar to those "ghosts" they'd found here before, but they seemed…different. A little less formed and more ethereal. Everything from golds, to greens, to blues, to purples all intermixed in their nebulous forms.

 

The storm soon passed over them, blowing itself to other and better places. As the storm subsided the creatures flittered off.Chris reluctantly got up back to standing and turned to watch it approach. They all seemed to brush him as he did. Tentacles of pure energy brushed his skin. The creatures left a warm tingling sensation where they had touched, like a gentle caress but stronger. It made him nervous. He stared as one hovered in front of him for just a heartbeat longer.

 

Yes, you are the one. That voice said.

 

The being followed the others back out the door.

 

That wasn't creepy.

 

Just as he got a good look at the being that supposedly talked to him, his alarm went off and he startled wide awake.

Chapter Text

It was just another shift on the bridge.

 

Except it was proving to be anything but ordinary.

 

The consoles chirped, steady and familiar. It was like a steady heartbeat. One she had grown so used to she barely took notice of anymore except when it stuttered. Every console seemed to have its own rhythm unless they were at red alert. Then it was all mayhem with the overlay of the klaxon. It seemed to all blend into one song with the underlay of the distant and faint thrum of the warp core. It was interspersed with quiet conversation, hushed tones and whispers as if no one wanted to break the quiet air of the Enterprise's bridge.

 

Status indicators flickered and blinked on the various station consoles. Dozens of tiny reds and greens and yellows all flashing. Much like that klaxon, Azura-9's golden light washed out the dim lighting of the bridge. It danced across the glass, across faces. There was an occasional flash of something brighter before it too disappeared back into the sea of golds and yellows.

 

The light even seemed to play with their uniforms too. It washed out black pants. Ops red turned a strange copper under the nebula's golden light. Command gold just blended while Spck's science blue shifted into something more of a bronzed teal.

 

Beneath it all she felt the odd weight of a gaze that shouldn’t exist.

 

Watching.

 

Waiting.

 

Una Chin-Riley almost welcomed the distraction of her own thoughts form this disturbing sensation. She told herself it was just nerves, but even if it was those nerves shouldn't be there. She was Number One, and Number One did not flinch even under the alien gaze of something unknown. Especially not her.

 

Goosebumps raced up her arms despite the bridge air being as controlled as ever., set to something comfortable for all of them. The XO had never been uncomfortable on the bridge before. She shifted in her seat, desperate to break the silence and the sensation yet she didn't want to be the first one to speak.

 

Una told herself it was nothing. It had to be nothing, but she couldn't shake the sensation. It was certainly a contrast to the usual sterile environment the bridge was. She took a quick glance around, the quick kind that suggested someone was hiding something wrong. The brunette wanted to get a read on the other,s to see if maybe they felt it too.

 

Right away, Una could tell they did.

 

Uhara shifted nervously in her seat, rubbing the back of her neck as she worked. Spock remained impassive as ever, his console chirping every so often at regular intervals. A junior officer at ops kept glancing over their shoulder. They made eye contact with Una, almost blanched as if caught doing something wrong. They quickly went back to their console, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. It almost made Una chuckle.

 

She turned back to the viewscreen that beheld the nebula they were studying. Azura-9. Golds and yellows danced across the screen. A white dwarf binary system that was decaying danced its deadly orbit in the background. Even at this distance one could still see the matter transfer from the smaller star to the larger.

 

The science department hadn't relayed any information on them yet since they had just arrived two days prior. It was hard to tell just how long they had to study them. Depending on their mass, one of two outcomes could happen if Una remembered her astrophysics right. They would either merge into a fiery supernova or collapse into a single neutron star. Either way she knew the science department would be having a field day with this.

 

Despite having an entire fleet of starships to send out, Starfleet hadn't exactly prioritized studying these types of star systems. They had had a war to fight with the Klingons, after all, so science had been at the bottom of their list. Not much was known about them except what had been passed down from when they were a pre-warp civilization.

 

There wasn't a whole lot either on their impacts of a nearby nebula too.

 

No wonder Starfleet had sent them all the way out here to study this.

 

According to the briefing something like this was rare. Sure, binary white dwarves on their own aren't. That's an every day walk in the park in space terms. But a dying system next to a stellar nursery that hadn't even begun to disperse? That was rare.

 

On one side you had the death of two white dwarves, and the other, the birth of stars.

 

Even if the science department wasn't Una's forte she could still find the beauty in this particular setup.

 

No wonder the nerds were having a field day.

 

After all, how many civilizations lived and died before they ever saw anything this spectacular.

 

It almost reminded her of her and Chris. They'd been dating in secret for a year now, although it felt longer than that. Two lives, bound together, impossible to untangle. If those two stars could endure the other's pull, so could she between their relationship and their command.

 

Una Chin-Riley could tell exactly how the captain was feeling about this particular charting mission. She had glanced at him too when she had looked back to take stock of the crew. Uhara's shifting in her chair, the junior officer being aware that she'd been watching them. At the center of it all, Christopher Pike.

 

He was her friend. Her love, even, at this point in time. Not that they had been dating for long. They shouldn't even be dating at all according to regulations, but then again, according to regs Una shouldn't even be in Starfleet. Some of them deserved to be bent. That certainly didn't mean that they weren't professional outside of off hours. Those were the big two Una could name that she thought shouldn't be there.

 

Sure, some officers may use love to wiggle their way up the chain, but they didn't deserve to be in Starfleet then.

 

The consoles sang their steady pattern. Pings and tones layered into a rhythm She'd long ago tuned to. Beneath it, she could just barely feel the warp core's thrum through the soles of her boots, steady as a heartbeat. Azura-9's glow bled across the viewscreen and painted every panel in shifting hues of blue and gold and the occasional white from its neighboring binary system.

 

She knows deeply that they're shattering these anti-fraternization rules as she turns them over in her mind. She wondered why love between two capable officers is branded a liability when it feels, in this moment, like that's the very thing that steadies her.

 

Her captain and her lover, Christopher Pike.

 

Why these thoughts were even running around in her mind, Una didn't know but it kept her preoccupied. The Illyrian wondered if it could be, perhaps, rooted in distrust. Captains being manipulated by love wasn't such a far fetched idea.

 

Number One didn't view their budding relationship as a liability, however. They seemed to compliment each other. He steadied her if anything.

 

They were incredibly careful with this. The crew of the Enterprise was so close knit that everyone knew what everyone else was doing. It was hard to keep secrets in a family that tight. This was one that could end both of their careers if someone found out. Una knew that Alpha shift couldn't care less. Everyone from Mitchell to Spock knew instinctively how professional their Captain and Number One were. That they would let nothing get in the way of completing a mission.

 

There was still the anxiety of someone from one of the other shifts finding out. Or a newbie who's first rotation happened to the Enterprise. Someone who didn't know them as well. The bridge crew was as close knit as any biological family. Erica had once joked that it seemed like the Captain and her knew each other enough to read the other's mind.

 

So, for now, things were kept as under wraps as it could be. Hopefully that could change in the future, but with how buercratic Starfleet and the Federation tended to be Una didn't have hopes that would change anytime soon. It annoyed her to no end that Starfleet preached diversity and yet practiced hypocrisy.

 

Azura-9 pulsed and twisted up ahead as scanners and scientists went to work elsewhere on the ship studying it.

 

The nebula pulsed across the glass of the viewscreen, its glow crawling over their consoles. For a fleeting moment it felt less like starlight and more like a gaze sweeping across the room. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. It didn't feel hostile, just present.

 

Watching.

 

Watching them.

 

She risked a glance back at her friend to see if he had noticed it. She noticed his bored expression. The hand his head rested against and the elbow propped up on the arm of the Chair. That was definitely classic Bored Chris.

 

Yet, at the same time he seemed to be leaning forward a little which seemed…odd.

 

Is this the man I'm supposed to keep at an arm's length? She wondered to herself, almost snorting at that thought. There was no way in hell would she ever step back from Chris unless he asked now. Things were just in too deep. Curse that perfect hair of his.

 

Regulations be damned . He was hers, and she would follow him to the ends of the galaxy, arm’s length or not.

 

Una could tell there was something up with him at the same time. That wasn't just Bored Pike. Sure, the hand resting against his chin propped up by an elbow would say otherwise. There were other, more subtle signs that would denote something else going on too. The way he leaned forward slightly. The fixation in his eyes on the nebula that was on the viewscreen.

 

Una turned back to the console. She caught Spock's raised eyebrow out of the corner of her vision and berated herself. She'd been staring for a moment too long. At least she could trust Spock's professionalism to not bring it up until after the shift. Or never, for that matter. Una knew that Spock would intristically know they would never do anything to jeopardise a mission. Including their relationship. The goal and completion of the mission always came first. Whatever it may be.

 

The Illyrian half wondered if Spock knew. For all the bluster about lack-of-emotions, Vulcans were deceivingly great at reading a room or others. She was almost certain he knew, but he'd yet to berate her in his Spock way about regulations. Number One could almost hear his dry remarks.

 

She was so deep in her thoughts and worries that she almost jumped when Chris finally spoke up.

 

"Anyone else feel that?" He asked. The question seemed weird coming from him, but then again Una's mind had been elsewhere. Captains weren't supposed to ask questions like that aloud. Not vague, unmeasurable, potentially vulnerable things. But Chris did, because he trusted his crew. And because whatever he was feeling had shaken him enough to spill into the open. That wasn't boredom she'd noticed earlier, that was worry and unease.

 

For a brief moment, the bridge seemed to hold its breath. Nobody dared to speak up and admit that they too, felt it. Including herself. Meanwhile in that silence, the bridge sang around them. Consoles pinging away or chirping. The faint hum of the warp core permeating beneath them.

 

From the science console, Spock responded, "Feel what, sir?" Give it to a Vulcan to question the hunches of a human captain.

 

Una had felt something. She wasn't sure what it had been. It caused the hairs in her arms to raise ever so slightly.

 

The XO found it odd for Chris to ask such a vague question even if it was warranted. Captains weren't supposed to ask things like that. Questions like that tended to unsettle people. However, Una knew that Pike was rarely wrong when he trusted his instincts and she trusted that. This felt different, somehow.

 

From beside her, Ortegas piped up. "Like you're being watched. Or like that nebula is watching you." She said. From her tone she sounded spooked. It was almost like she was telling a spooky story around a campfire back on Earth with that tone. Una noticed her shudder a little.

 

Leave it to Erica to be blunt.

 

Una had felt it too.

 

A prickle between her shoulder blades—the sense of eyes where none should be. She couldn't name it, she couldn't even name where it was coming from, except that it was there. Chris' unease told her that she wasn't alone in picking up on it. Number One hadn't commented on it simply because she had no need. She was of a rational mind, just like Spock was, and it unnerved her that something like this couldn't be so easily named.

 

Number One could tell that the others felt it too. Uhara shifting nervously in her seat. Someone else along the outer consoles glanced around warily from time to time as if to make sure nobody was looking over their shoulder.

 

"Is that not the same thing?" The Vulcan replied, looking vaguely confused. As confused as Spock could get, anyway. It also sounded…snippy almost. Una knew that Erica was a hothead and if things progressed more than casual banter, Chris would correct that.

 

"Curious that you don't feel it, Spock." Erica spoke up again. Una did well enough to keep her eyes on the console, but she knew heads would be turning between the two of them elsewhere.

 

"Vulcans simply do not believe in superstitions unlike you humans do."

 

"Spock," That was Chris speaking up. "Scan for life signals. If there's anything out there our sensors are bound to pick up on it. Maybe that will put this paranoia to rest." That seemed sensible enough. The brunette frowned and glanced up at the viewscreen when he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. It was gone before she could lay eyes on it. She frowned.

 

After a short while the scanners beeped, but it wasn't the tone the others were hoping for.

 

The silence that followed pressed hard against them. It was only broken by the whirs and chirps of the other consoles. A chair creaked behind her as someone along the wall shifted uncomfortably. Erica tapped her console nervously, but quietly as if she too didn't want to break the gap in ambience.

 

"Scans are negative for any life forms." Number One heard Spock say.

 

That seemed weird.If there's anything was something out there, something watching them, it should've showed up.

 

Yet….it was silent out there.

 

"Sensors are normal," That was Spock again. Una did turn slightly to hear the conversation better, but she didn't feel the need to chime in. "Yet you remain…troubled, captain." He observed.

 

Una eventually did turn back to watch the conversation along with everyone else. She noticed how he didn't look away from the viewscreen, as if drawn to it.

 

"Vulcans never fail to amaze me. You really don't feel that, Spock?" He asked.

 

There was a moment's pause. "…I feel the absence of data and the unease it creates."

 

Una watched Chris raise an eyebrow. "Was that an attempt at humor?" A few of the watching crew members looked amused, Uhara even chuckled.

 

"It was not, Captain. My apologize if it came out as such."

 

The absence of data wasn’t the same as proof of safety. Sometimes silence was the loudest warning.

 

Una's job wasn't to believe in the numbers, but to prepare for what they didn't show. To protect the crew. They were family, after all. Chris could afford to lead by instinct and trust. When he faltered, they turned to her for protection and leadership. Una had to think of worst-case scenarios for their safety.

 

She lived in contingencies. What if the nebula was alive? What if sensors failed? What if radiation from the white dwarves compromised the grid? Or life support?There was no glamour in those thoughts — only necessity. Una carried them quietly, a weight no one else could see. Sometimes it was draining, especially when the silence pressed heavy on the bridge as it did now. But, she had Pike to steady her, his instinct bringing balance to her caution. He carried their hope. Their trust. Una carried their fear and anxieties and together they kept Enterprise alive.

 

Much like a mother protecting her young, she protected the Enterprise. She dealt with the crew too, often dealing out what others called, "tough love." Una didn't care though. If it kept the crew alive and safe, so be it.

 

Una briefly glanced at Ortegas beside her as she swirled her chair towards Spock, one hand gesturing vaguely to the nebula on the viewscreen. "Great, so there could be something out there and we wouldn't even know it until we saw it on the viewscreen."

 

"Technically, it is a nebula so there is already something out there." Spock calmly replied.

 

"Technically I don't give a f-."

 

"Guys" Chris interjected, cutting off Erica.

 

"Look, we've dealt with weird things before. But c'mon, we're Enterprise guys, dealing with the weird is our middle name." Give it to Chris to be able to land such a short pep talk.

 

Una noticed Spock was going to open his mouth, probably to say it wasn't possible that Enterprise was all of their last names and she almost chuckled at it. Her professionalism, however, kept her in check.

 

She noticed Uhara lean over and whispered, "It's an idiom, sir." To which Spock replied with a quick thank you. He turned back to the console when it chirped. "It would seem those twin white dwarves are decaying, sir. It could be interfering with out visual capabilities along with our sensors."

 

Una could agree that the nebula was beautiful on its' own, but against the backdrop of two white dwarves in orbit with each other?

 

Breathtaking.

 

Azura-9 reminded Una of the sunsets back home on Illyria when the whole world seemed to pause in its splendor. Or even of that one planet they once visited where the aurorae were golds and yellows instead of blues and greens. It was breathtaking, certainly, but so was the sight of a solar flare just before it scoured a planet clean.

 

"Could that be a factor to what we're seeing, Mr Spock?" Chris asked.

 

"It is a possibility, yes. The radiation they are putting out have been known to compromise sensors."

 

The radiation could account for the sensor scramble, yes, but it didn't account for the prickling Una felt along her arms or the raised hairs on her neck. The sensation of being watched. There was definitely a subtle tension on the bridge. Like the atmosphere right before a storm breaks.

 

If their readings couldn't be trusted then they were flying half-blind. Besides that, what about the information Starfleet wanted them to collect? Would they be corrupted too? Wouldn't that make this whole mission a moot point?

 

The brunette shifted in her chair uneasily, hating to think of the wasted time. They needed to get those sensors adapted asap. Una noted that Chris' posture hadn't eased with Spock's insights and she wondered if he too didn't believe him. If the captain wasn't convinced, then neither was she.

 

Una frowned from where she was sitting at navigation, her fingers fidgeted against the smooth glass. She was also aware of the dangers that such a binary system would bring to a starship like their's.

 

"Are you sure the radiation won't interfere with standard ops?" She finally piped up.

 

"Quite certain, sir." Spock replied, the light of the nebula playing across his face. "If we maintain this distance from the binary system it should not have any impacts."

 

"Noted." Una's head turned when Erica spoke up. "Stay away from bright shiny death stars."

 

Chris usually had a dry comeback for Erica, but tonight he let the joke pass untouched. His eyes hadn’t moved from the nebula. To anyone else it might seem like focus, but to her it seemed different.

 

Number One risked another glance back. She noted that his eyes hadn't moved from that viewscreen. The way he sat it was leaning forward slightly, the same way he might in a moment of anticipation. His shoulders hunched forward slightly definitely wasn't a sign of boredom as she had previously thought. Chris' arm had shifted from being leaned upon to grasping the arm of the chair. His grip on the armchair seemed tighter now too. It was like watching him a moment in anticipation.

 

She watched as Uhara glanced at him too and then her way. A subtle look of worry and confusion played across her face and Una gave a very small shrug and shake of her head. She didn't know what was going on with him either.

 

"There!" Erica exclaimed, making Una startle just a little. "I knew I wasn't seeing things!"

 

There was a glimmer of light on the Enterprise's viewscreen. It pulsed golds and oranges and yellows, even greens and blues. It seemed to be made of pure energy. It certainly cut a stark contrast against the hues of the nebula. It moved fluidly through it; just on the edge before disappearing back into the cloud.

 

It was their first real glimpse of…whatever that was. Whatever it was that they had only been seeing out of the corner of their eyes. Little flickers of movement continued from deep within the nebula in front of them.

 

The binary system glimmered as it proceeded in its deadly dance in the distance, unaware of its affect on the starship or nebula.

 

"Never suggested you were, Lieutenant." Una heard Pike reply with amusement in his voice.

 

"Fascinating." Said Spock.

 

"Care to elaborate, Mr Spock?"

 

Spock turned back to his console, presumably running a few more scans. "They appear to be some sort of life form, and yet nothing shows up on the scanners. I have even widened the parameters and still, they return clean." He turned back to them.

 

Erica looked weirded out beside her and Una noticed how her lips thinned into a tight frown. "But that was something, right? That wasn't just space doing space things." She asked and swiveled around once more to face their science officer.

 

Una saw how tense Erica was. She was nervous and the XO couldn't blame her. She sat with her shoulders hunched slightly like the captain's had been but at a different angle her hands gripped her legs a little. Una knew Erica was often cocky with an air of bravado and ego. Typical pilot. She also sometimes used her dry wit and humor to hide her own anxiety. Or to break the tension in a room as th case sometimes was

 

Una almost admired her for it. The XO had self confidence, but there was no gusto to it. There was also the constant anxiety of being found out as an Illyrian, but that had been before they visited the Hemedit colony. Before she had stood trial before the hypeoceacy of the Federation.

 

Before she had fallen in love with the captain and he, her despite her being genetically modified .

 

"Correct. One can assume that that, as the Lieutenant aptly put it, is not just space doing space things based on movement alone. One can assume that it is a sentient being since they moved with intention."

 

"Which means we aren't alone out here." Said Una, glancing back at him.

 

"Correct."

 

Erica jerked her head in a short shake and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Just another day on Enterprise."

Chapter Text

Another long, dragging shift.

 

Chris was really starting to hate this.

 

The captain didn't mind the peace and the quiet, but the monotony wore at him. It almost made him itch to be in sciences. They would surely be having a better, more interesting day than this.

 

Right?

 

For the umpteenth time, he shifted in his chair, restlessness crawling under his skin.

 

What he wouldn't give for some action right now.

 

His gaze thus far had been fixated on the nebula, the warbles and pings of the bridge growing distant in the background. He was pretty sure he'd nodded off once or twice only for Una to wake him. How embarrassing.

 

That gaze of ice blue eyes somehow found their way to his second in command. She sat at the navigation console next to Erika, working as diligently as ever. All he could see from this angle was her brunette hair, but even that was gorgeous to him.

 

They'd been dating for well over a year now. There had been some uncertainties early on, but they'd mostly been worked out now. The biggest being how to handle things around Starfleet's anti-fraternizing regulations. This would've shattered them into fractures if word got out.

 

The soft chirping and whirring of the bridge lulled him into a sense of ease. Any more relaxed and he may have fallen asleep.

 

"Riveting stuff, eh Captain?" Erica's comment brought Chris back to the present with a small jolt.

 

That got a chuckle out of him as he stretched. "Nothing like a good ol' mapping mission to get you all riled up." He joked back and Erica snorted. Una shook her head in equal amusement at the quip.

 

Una.

 

Chris' gaze fell on her as the movement caught his eye.

 

Una was as beautiful to him as the first day they met. Her burnette hair shone softly in the nebula's golden light. He couldn't see her face really from where she sat at ops, but he didn't mind it. They needed to be kept at an arm's distance on the bridge, but anywhere else was fair game.

 

Chris trusted the bridge crew for Alpha shift to remain discrete about their relationship. They would never allow it to get in the way of their professionalism. They couldn't. The captain knew Una often fretted about what they would do if someone else found out. Pike had often told her they would cross that bridge when they came to it. There was no use in borrowing from tomorrow's worries, after all.

 

The captain's gaze was drawn back to the nebula. The golden hues danced against blues and reds, all of it mixed in together like some cosmic batter. It reminded him of that dream he'd had this morning.

 

The one back on the Illyrian colony.

 

Chris frowned slightly as he tried to remember it, but he just couldn't. The captain shifted in his chair again, watching the pulsing movements within the gas cloud that would eventually birth stars. He propped his head up on his palm again, his elbow against his chair's arm.

 

What he wouldn't give for some excitement right about now. Even a Romulan encounter would be enough for him.

 

At least it was close to the end of the shift.

 

At least he was here with Una.

 

And the others, of course.

 

Pike let his thoughts drift. It didn't take much for that to happen right now. The distant hum of the warp core along with the usual tones and chirps from the bridge lulled him into this relaxed state. The others worked seamlessly, like usual. The only station that had any influx of activity was no doubt, Spock's. Uhara at least had stuff to do despite this lull in activity. He could definitely tell that Erica was bored out of her mind too holding them steady. It didn't take that much to keep a ship stable like this.

 

Then, there was Una beside Erica. Chris almost envied her. There was always something to do at ops. As Captain, sure he had things to do like catch up on reports or go over logs or plan things out, but he'd already done that. He was all caught up which left him to suffer times like these.

 

The Captain watched his XO, his attention occasionally distracted by Erica's movements. He watched the nebula's golden glow dance across that burnette hair of her's that was so impeccably kept. He could imagine brushing a strand of it behind her ear somewhere away from this bridge and its beeping and lights. Somewhere like his quarters over their first awkward dinner, perhaps.

 

That first dinner had been so awkward.

 

He'd set the table too carefully, flowers in a jar like some frontier homestead. She'd sat across from him as if she were still on the bridge — straight backed, precise and with her hands folded. He'd fumbled with the wineglasses, almost spilling the plum-colored liquid inside. Chris remembered how thankful he'd been that he hadn't sploshed any on that tablecloth, or Una for that matter. For a while they both tipped over silences, talking to much about duty and not enough about themselves. But then she'd smirked — quiet, almost conspiratorial and teased, "You're terrible at this, Captain." He'd laughed, the tension breaking and for the first time it had felt easy.

 

Chris had just finished taking out the main course when his doorbell had chimed.

 

That was Una, no doubt.

 

He kneed the oven door closed, lifted the pan up to set it down on the stone top. It was something simple. Pizza, but he’d done two. The first was a simple cheese pizza. The second had peppers. Chris remembered from his time on Discovery that Una liked spicy. He wasn’t a fan of it himself, but to each their own.

 

The captain took off the mitts while calling, “Come in.”

 

The door hissed open and he turned after setting the dish down on the counter.

 

“You couldn’t leave the cooking to the replicator for once, could you?” Una teased, the light from the fireplace dancing off her brunette hair.

 

Chris spread his hands with a shrug. “C’mon Una. It’s our first date, you think I’m going to let the replicator do the work?” he teased back.

 

“Always the cook.” Una smiled and walked in. Chris caught her intake. “That does smell amazing.” She admitted reluctantly.

 

“I thought something easy would be nice,” said Chris. “I made pizza. I even made a second one with peppers.” He looked up. “Now, can I get you something to drink?”

 

“Sure,” said Una. She’d been to many of his dinner parties and knew he was playing host. Apparently the rumor she liked spicy things had finally gotten around to him. Then again, there was the time she ordered a habanero burger on Pheura.

 

“So, what can I get for you?” he asked to break the silence.

 

“Sure,” said Una. She’d been to many of his dinner parties and knew he was playing host. Apparently the rumor she liked spicy things had finally gotten around to him. Then again, there was the time she ordered a habanero burger on the Discovery.

 

Chris knew Una had just gotten off shift. It did make things awkward with him being in his civvies, but he just decided to roll with it. After all, Erica had duped many a newbie into wearing dress for their first Captain’s Table.

 

“So, what can I get for you?” he asked to break the silence.

 

Una walked over to the table and sat down. “A glass of wine would be amazing right now!”

 

Chris chuckled in amusement. “Long shift?” He walked over to his own personal storage and pulled out a bottle he knew his XO would like. You didn’t spend years working with each other without learning each other’s tastes.

 

“Something like that. Nothing like the EPS going haywire to put your mind at ease.”

 

The Captain pulled out two glasses and brought them over to the table. He popped the cork and poured Una a glass. Chris frowned when he fumbled for the glass a little. The drinkware clinged against each other, ringing out into the room.

 

Una raised an eyebrow at him in almost a perfect imitation of Spock.

 

"Sorry, I'm clumsy today." He said with a sheepish expression.

 

Una held his gaze. Chris was never clumsy. It wasn't in his vocabulary unless he was talking about someone else. Could it be nerves, or something else more worrisome?

 

"It's alright, we can't all be at our best even if we are Starfleet's finest." She tried to joke.

 

“Sounds like fun,” Chris said, amused. He passed her the glass. “Should make for a good report, at least.”

 

“Makes for a harrowing shift is more like,” Una teased back.

 

Chris clinked his glass gently against hers. “To Starfleet’s finest,” he said. She allowed the faintest smile, and for a moment the ship and its malfunctions were far away. Just two friends, sharing something that felt almost easy.

 

Una clinked her glass against his, careful not to spill. "To Starfleet's finest." She echoed before sipping. There was a moment's silence between the two of them before she smirked - quiet, almost conspiratorial. "You're terrible at this, Chris." She teased and he laughed, the tension breaking between them and for the first time it had felt easy.

 

The silence stretched comfortably between them as they sipped at their wine. Chris got up and brought the pizza over after cutting it. He went back to get some plates for both of them when it slipped out.

 

"Chris, what are we doing?"

 

Chris looked perplexed as he dished out the pizza and handed the one with peppers to her "Having dinner?" He replied.

 

"I mean this, our relationship. Starfleet could court martial us if they found out."

 

"Una," Chris responded as he sat again across the table from her, pizza steaming on his plate. "We'll find a way." He reassured.

 

The question lingered long after she asked it.

 

What the hell were they doing?

 

What was he doing?

 

"Chris." Una said and repeated his name a second time.

 

A hand shook his shoulder and he jolted back to the present.

 

Oh shit, how embarrassing.

 

Daydreaming on the bridge of all places.

 

"Chris." Said Una's voice hauled him back from that pleasant flashback. "You with us?"

 

Chris raised his head, still caught between the daydream and reality.

 

Oh hell, had he drifted off in the captain's chair?

 

"Chris?"

 

"I'm here." Said Chris, sounding rather mortified.

 

"Man, I knew mapping missions were boring, but this takes the topping on the cake." Teased Erica from navigation. It earned her a glare from Una, but one that was halfhearted. Chris wondered if she was trying to break the tension.

 

"I do not see what cake has to do wi-" Spock was about to say, but Erica cut him off.

 

"It's a joke, Spock."

 

Chris fought the urge to sigh, rubbing his temples. "I'll be in my ready room. Just ping me if you need me." No use being on the bridge when it was quiet as an empty canyon out there.

 

He stood up from the chair and headed off for the ready room. He frowned lightly when he noticed Una hesitate before she followed him.

 

"Yes, Una?" He asked.

 

"Can I have a word with you?" She nodded towards the starboard door that they both knew led to the ready room.

 

The captain nodded as he held his XO's gaze calmly. The bridge chirped and warbled around them. "Of course." He replied and they walked off the bridge.

 

The door hissed close behind them.

 

"Chris, what the hell was that about?" Una snapped the second it shut.

 

He knew she was right, but hearing it laid out like that stung more than he cared to admit. His easy going demeanour faltered for a fraction of a second, stiffening.

 

"Chris?" Una asked again when he didn't reply right away.

 

He sighed. "Una, I'm fine. Honestly, could you blame anyone else in that char during a lull like this? It's not exactly the Klingon War out there."

 

"True, but still." She berated with her arms cross. "You need to set a good example for the crew and that's not exactly a good example."

 

Chris almost rolled his eyes. "Una," He argued. "They're not exactly first rotation cadets either."

 

"Neither are you." She retorted.

 

Chris knew Una had a point as much as he'd hate to admit it. He crossed his arms as if mirroring her without noticing it.

 

"Are you sleeping alright?" His XO asked with genuine worry. They remained an arm's distance from each other. There was a sense in the air that Una wanted to do more, perhaps cup his chin, but given the proximity to the bridge that wouldn't be wise.

 

His XO held herself taut, professional, though her eyes softened in a way the rest of her didn’t allow. It was one of those moments that reminded him how long they had known each other. Both professionally and as a couple. It was long enough that he could see through her facade.

 

"I'm fine." He reiterated stubbornly.

 

Una held that gaze. He could tell she didn't buy it.

 

"Stars, Una, everyone has their slip ups. I had one night of poor sleep this week, that's all." He insisted. "What else can you expect? Mapping's not exactly invigorating." He said, gesturing.

 

Una sighed. Part of her knew he was right, but part of her suspected something else was up. "I'll make a deal, Chris. One more "slip up" and it's to sick bay with you."

 

The captain's lips thinned unhappily. He wondered who exactly was running the ship right now, her or him. It felt like he was an XO again with April chiding him.

 

"Alright, fine." Chris replied and held up his hands in surrender. "You drive a hard deal, Number One." He said, thinned lips tweaking in the ghost of a smile.

 

Una's stance remained as stiff and professional as ever, but her eyes softened. Chris had been with her since the Acadmey. It was long enough to pick up on Una's nuances like that and he could see that.

 

Feeling parched, the Captain walked over to the replicator and ordered a glass of water. A few seconds later, it materialized and he drank it. "You want anything?"

 

His XO went back to frowning a little. She knew he was deflecting, but at this point Chris almost didn't care. "I'm fine, Captain." She said. Her expression did soften for just a moment. "Just don't make me drag you to sickbay myself." She quipped. She turned and headed back onto the bridge, leaving him to chuckle. Chris knew she would too, so he didn't totally brush off that threat.

 

He watched her back leave his ready room, almost wishing things could be easier than they were for their relationship. Chris regretted none of it, of course, but being captain and first officer did complicate things at best.

 

For all his easy words and joking, Chris also knew she wasn't fooled. Una had now him since they were cadets; she could read the shift in his shoulders, when his smile didn't reach his eyes. He could read the light in her eyes and when it hardened and when it softened. There was no hiding anything from her.

 

The Captain sighed and picked up the PADD from the shelf he always kept it on after disposing of the glass in the replicator. He went to sit down on one of the plush red armchairs to catch up on the days' reports and such. As he sat down, the lights dimmed briefly. He frowned and glanced up when they did. Huh, he'd thought the distance from the white dwarves would eliminate that issue.

 

Apparently not.

 

The gas cloud beyond the viewport shifted gold at the edge of his vision as he looked up. It caught his attention and he watched it dance for a while. He blinked, and it was gone. He realized quickly that it had been in the room rather than outside where the nebula itself was. He frowned thoughtfully and argued with himself that it was only fatigue. Fatigue that may have gotten worse than he thought.

 

With a quiet sigh he shook his head and turned to pouring over the reports on his PADD.

 

~~~~

 

The hours slipped by in a blur of reports and half-hearted attempts at paperwork. The only thing that broke up the monotony was deciding on a trip down to engineering to see what was going on with the EPS. It only brought up more concern and questions than answers. With that and a sigh he ended his shift and headed back up to his quarters, politely dismissing himself.

 

By the time he'd gotten back the ship had dimmed its lighting to its night cycle. He'd exchanged pleasantries with crew he passed by. The corridors were hushed, and the ship seemed to be settling in for the night, but the quiet refreshed to settle with him. He walked by one of the viewports on the way back, pausing to glance at the nebula again with the golden haze filtering through.

 

Eventually, he made it back. After his display today he figured it might be better to cook dinner at home rather than share it with the crew in the galley. Chris didn't mind looks, he didn't mind stares, but sometimes it did make him feel rather uncomfortable.

 

The Captain set about cooking dinner.

 

Carbonara sounded pretty good right about now and it was fairly easy so long as one didn't break the sauce.

 

Reluctantly he had the replicator materialize the products. The eggs, the pancetta, the cheese, the pasta. He already had salt and pepper laying around in his cubboard since they kept. He went rummaging in the cubboard for them before he went on the hunt for a pan and pot.

 

The recipe was fairly straightforward, but one had to temper the eggs just right or else the entire sauce broke.

 

The captain went about putting the pot and pan on the stove, taking the pot to the sink to fill it and returning it. The burner flared to life after a few clicks. He salted the water and set to making the other half of the recipe while the water boiled.

 

Cooking came easy to him as he'd done it for years as a past time. He wished other things were this easy as he fried the pancetta. It spattered and splattered and for a moment, he caught sight of the nebula outside.

 

It danced and throbbed and was as beautiful as ever.

 

The pops of the pancetta brought him back and he took it off once it was cooked enough. The rest of the recipe went easily enough for him, even tempering the eggs.

 

Soon enough it was complete and he settled down to eat, staring out the viewport as he did so.

 

Time seemed to have no meaning as he whiled away the evening. It soon turned to full night for those aboard the Enterprise and the chime went out for Gamma shift as Chris set about hand washing the dishes.

 

He settled down for the night in his bed after knocking around his quarters. A PADD in hand for some casual light reading. No reports, no work, just reading.

 

Sleep seemed to elude him.

 

He stashed the PADD and tossed and turned but he just couldn't sleep. Ultimately he cut his losses and decided to just get up with a frustrated huff. Perhaps Una was right and there was something wrong. Maybe a trip to the sick bay would shine some light on this. He figured it was just stress, but who knows.

 

Weirder things have happened.

 

Chris knocked around his quarters again after putting on a shirt that read 1701, but nothing helped. Under Azura-9's baleful gaze he left his room when it got too constricting for him. He paced the mostly empty halls. What crewmen and yeomen he came across gave him odd looks. Their captain was rarely up at this hour.

 

Pike soon retreated to the observation deck, breathing a sigh of relief when he noticed it was empty. It had low lighting to fit the time of night. Not totally off, but just enough to see by without being blinding.

 

He paces for a bit and with a sigh ended up in one of the comfy overstuffed chairs, staring down the nebula. The low lights flickered while the nebula seemed to respond in kind. It flared at the same time. He frowned when he saw it, wondering if it was his imagination.

 

Azura-9 seemed to pull at him even here. It was this nagging sensation deep within him. The same kind that lead him to leaning forward in the chair. It baffled him. He shouldn't even be caring about this gas cloud beyond cursing it for mooring them here.

 

Lost in thought, Christopher Pike hadn't noticed the doors his open, someone walk through, and they hissed shut behind her. It wasn't until those feet were within his view that he realized he wasn't alone and jumped.

 

Una chuckled as she looked down at him. "Jumpy?" She asked.

 

He got up. "Maybe a little. I didn't hear you come in."

 

He smirked faintly, trying to deflect. “You know, you’re starting to sound an awful lot like space mom.”

 

Una arched a brow. “And you’re the teenager sneaking out after curfew?”

 

Chris chuckled, the sound low and tired. The humor lingered between them for a moment before it softened into quiet. She stepped closer, their shoulders brushing, and when he didn’t move away, she tilted in just enough to press the faintest kiss to his temple.

 

It was brief, steadying, gone almost before he could react. Still, he felt it like a spark under his skin.

 

Azura-9 flared across the viewport then, golden light spilling over them both. Chris wasn’t sure if the warmth in his chest came from her touch or from the nebula’s pull.

 

Something flared across the viewport. Chris was reluctant to leave Una's warmth and touch, but this warranted investigation. A flash of green out of the corner of his vision made him look up sharply and turn fully to the row of windows.

 

Una frowned at the sudden movement, taking his hand and squeezing it slightly. "Chris? What is it?" She asked, half wondering if maybe that had been too much. They'd kissed before, sometimes short and quick like that and so,times deep and passionate. It couldn't have been that, could it?

 

Then came Chris' gasp of amazement.

 

The entire room flared with a soft green and Una's head turned in the same direction. Her eyes widened at the dancing, pulsing light show. Outside ribbons of green intermingled with golds, blues, and violets.

 

It was amazing.

 

The pair walked up to the railing that separated them from the windows and watched the light show dance and twirl.

 

"What's causing this? They look like the northern lights." Of course. He is would've seen them, having hailed from Montana.

 

"There…have been crew reports of this. Apparently, science thinks it's the gas particles interacting with the shields." Una explained, the colors dancing across her face.

 

Chris turned to her, now facing her. "Huh, I thought we were far enough from Azura-9 to not be affected by it?"

 

Una glanced at the light show before turning back to him. "Apparently not. They reassured me it's harmless."

 

Chris nodded.

 

"Well, I think they're beautiful. Like you are." He said lowly, the words just slipping out of his mouth.

 

Una almost sighed like a schoolgirl, no doubt blushing under the green glows of the aurora. She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head, but she didn’t pull away when their hands brushed on the armrest. Fingers lingered, curling together in quiet defiance of rank and regulations. Foreheads leaned forward and touched one another.

Beyond the glass, the aurora sparked brighter, a ripple of gold and violet chasing each other across the shields. They twisted and danced and chased each other in and out of the glowing colors flaring off the Enterprise.

Chapter Text

Una was seated in the Captain's Chair.

 

It wasn't an uncommon sight especially on days when her shift started earlier than Christopher Pike's. Even after last night's late foray she didn't mind the early shifts.

 

Azura-9's golden glow cast across almost everything on the bridge. It didn't totally saturate it, but it was strong enough to notice. To Una, it was rather beautiful if it weren't for the unsettling flashes of movement.

 

Like the flashes from last night. The beautiful aurora that had danced across their shields. The greens mingling with golds and violets. Neither of them had spotted the two beings that had weaved through them they were so besotted with each other. Thinking about last night and being so close to Chris threatened to bring a blush to her cheeks.

 

Una brought herself back to the present with a gentle chiding. She could hear Uhara chattering away and relating whatever needed to be relayed throughout the ship.

 

Mathiews sat at ops as she usually did when Una wasn't there. Erica sat beside her, leaning back in her chair and fiddling. There wasn't much to be done there since autopilot could hold the ship steady.

 

The XO knew that Spock would certainly have things to do. After all, the mapping missions tended to fall into his department. Una could finally see why Chris hated these types of missions. They were always ever so dull unless you were in the right department.

 

Una started to notice little quirks amongst the bridge crew that tended not to happen when Chris was in the Chair. She could hear Erica muttering course checks every so often, even if it was under her breath. Her eyes flicked from the nebula back down to her console every so often, fingers dancing languidly across the screen. Probably trimming impulse power or fuel checks.

 

She noticed Uhara had a slight tilt of her head that she adjusted every so often while listening to the ship's chatter. Her voice carried in low even tones as though she didn't want to disturb the quiet of the bridge. Her fingers brushed the console in a slow pattern, focus never wavering from the chatter in her ear piece.

 

Spock sat at his station behind her. Una couldn't see him, but she knew he'd be working diligently to sort through the data they were collecting.

 

The others also worked at their stations too, noticeably more relaxed than when Chris was in this same chair. Not that they were ever stiff-backed as some other crews she's seen when they've been on the viewscreen. It's a noticeable difference regardless.

 

The XO didn't mind taking over now and then. It reminded her of how right the chair felt and perhaps, someday, she may earn one for herself.

 

Despite her Illyrian heritage.

 

Perhaps if she had her own command things would go more smoothly with Chris. Maybe they could be closer and more open about their relationship without the constant threat of being found out.

 

Despite the fact that Una loved the chair as much as he did, she was starting to see why he hated these slow missions.

 

It wasn't unusual for Christopher Pike to let Una take the Chair.

 

As much as he enjoyed being in command, he knew she needed the training too. Chris also knew that Starfleet liked to test its first officers from time to time. The training kept them sharp in the art of command. It also let him savor the morning rather than rushing around trying to make the shift on time.

 

He much preferred these languid mornings.

 

However, it seemed his body would refuse him the luxury of sleeping to his alarm. Christopher Pike woke up with a start, eyes gritty as he squinted into the darkness.

 

"Time?" The word came out more as a groan as he struggled to full consciousness.

 

"0400." Came the computer's pleasant voice.

 

Lovely.

 

It was supposed to be one of the days Una took over for the first part of Alpha. It usually left him time to wake up slowly instead of rushing out the door. Not this early. This was way too early to be even functioning unless there was some ship-wide emergency. Given that nobody had contacted him from the bridge, he assumed that wasn't happening.

 

He rolled over, hoping to fall asleep but restlessness stole that from him. Eventually he got up, bleary eyed.

 

"Computer, lights. Only about 25% please. Oh, and cancel my alarm." He told it and waited as the lights slowly dimmed on.

 

No need to be blinded by the light this early too.

 

Chris rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the grit and wake up enough to be at least somewhat functional. Functional enough for coffee at least.

 

He got up, wincing at the stiffness last night had left him. He'd come back late after spending time with Una on the observation deck. There was no regret with that whatsoever. Any time with her he enjoyed as he didn't get enough of it in his opinion.

 

The Captain walked over to the replicator, ordering his usual coffee. Even if he did insist on using real food, food that didn't come from the replicator, he couldn't help but agree that it was nice to have on mornings like this. It was also quite difficult to get provisions this far out into the quadrant. It also didn't make sense to have what didn't fit in his freezer in storage since it'd spoil. It almost made him miss Earth.

 

At least on Earth you didn't have to deal with the logistics of getting beef halfway across the galaxy.

 

Pike tapped his fingers against the counter he leaned against as he waited for the replicator.

 

Weird that it was taking so long.

 

Eventually it did materialize that first mug. He turned around and grabbed it with bh of his hands. Warmth flooded them, soothing and grounding at the same time. The coffee may not be enough to stave off his worrisome exhaustion, but it could still soothe his stress about it.

 

He took a sip as he stared at the nebula, well glaring really. It had all started when they held their position steady at the edge of it and he couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something else in play here.

 

That first sip scalded his tongue just enough to feel real. Bitter and dark, heat blooming down his throat and settling heavy in his chest. It didn't banish the exhaustion as he knew it wouldn't, but it cut through the fog enough to remind him he was still awake and still here. Perhaps he should take Una's advice and visit sickbay.

 

Perhaps he should also have an easy morning and just order something else from the replicator for breakfast instead of cooking it. He hated the thought, but he was still tired. At least if he did, it would leave more time for showering and sculpting his hair into perfection.

 

Indecision warred within Chris and he sighed in frustration. He finally turned back to the replicator. "Waffles with syrup and bacon." The computer chimed and with regular speed it produced the ordered meal.

 

The Captain took it over to his table and sat the plate down. He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down in it, scooting forward. With nothing else to look at since his fireplace was off he stared at the nebula as he ate.

 

He wasn't guilty about last night.

 

Far from it.

 

It made his chest glow with a happy warmth to know that after all this Una was still at his side. She was still willing to be together even though regs dictated otherwise.

 

Chris remembered the glow of the aurora dancing off her brunette hair, echoing darker shades of greens and blues. It was so vivid he thought —just for a second— that he saw those same colors dancing across his windows.

 

The press of their foreheads together.

 

The small, but gentle kiss that had him longing for more even if it had been on his forehead.

 

Yes, maybe someday they would be able to be out in public with their relationship. Chris stared at his coffee, remembering the warmth of his hand in her's and hoped it out be soon.

 

The captain returned to eating his waffles, thoughts of last night weighing heavily on his mind. As he ate he became more and more aware of a hollow ache that seemed to settle in his sternum. it wasn't pain, not really, but it gnawed at him regardless. Was it longing? Certainly, but for what? Una maybe? No, it felt different than that. It seemed to strength as he watched the nebula in the short distance and he frowned.

 

Was it suddenly sharper than before? Since when had it been so bright?

 

So crisp?

 

Chris slowly became aware that he wasn't even eating anymore. The final bites still sat on his plate drenched in butter and syrup. His fork hovered above. Had he been staring at Azura-9 for minutes, or hours?

 

Hell, am I late?

 

Out loud, he said, "Computer, time?"

 

"0530." Came the computer's pleasant voice.

 

Chris grumbled to himself. He still had an hour and a half to kill. The Captain hated early mornings when it wasn't by choice.

 

Not like this.

 

With a sigh he ate the last of his waffles and drank the last of his lukewarm coffee. He headed over to the sink and set them in to be dealt with later when he got back from Alpha.

 

Chris then went to take a shower, undressing and hopping in. At least the hot water was enough to soothe away the aches he'd woken up with. Pity sickbay couldn't just hypospray those away. He got out into the steamy air, and got dressed into the clean uniform he'd brought in. He then proceeded to do his hair in his usual style, staring at himself in the mirror for a few heartbeats once he was done.

 

Stars, he did look tired.

 

Perhaps it would be time shortly to make do on that promise with Una. To visit sickbay if his sleep issues continued. He inhaled and rubbed a freshly washed hand over his face, dragging away the weariness. The hollow ache, the inexplicable pull to the nebula was still there, but it was less as he pushed it aside. With practice ease he straightened his tunic, squared his shoulders and let his reflection shift. The man in the mirror no longer looked exhausted. He looked like a captain ready to face the day with his crew.

 

Chris walked out of the bathroom, asking the computer a third time for the time "0630." Good, he'd be early.

 

Always better early than late.

 

The Captain left his quarters and headed out into the hallway. He traced a familiar path to the turbolift. It was one that he knew well enough he could walk in his sleep. On the way he greeted various crewman warmly, some parting to make way for him.

 

He soon reached the turbolift and paused once inside, gripping the activation before saying, "Bridge."

 

It whirred to life, the movement barely perceptible. It had a quiet hum to it, almost soothing in some aspects. Anticipation for the day settled in his gut and he wondered if it would be any more exciting than the last.

 

Hopefully he wouldn't slack off again.

 

It whirred to life, the movement barely perceptible. It had a quiet hum to it, almost soothing in some aspects. Anticipation for the day settled in his gut and he wondered if it would be any more exciting than the last.

 

Hopefully he wouldn't slack off again.

 

The turbo lift's hum came to a stop and the doors hissed open. He walked on the bridge all straight backed to the boatswain whistle and a, "Captain on the bridge" from Spock since Una's back was to the lift.

 

Even with being stuck seeing her back, he thought she still looked pretty damn good in that chair. Authority suited her. Immediately he could tell the ease at which she commanded the bridge. For a heartbeat longer than he wanted he wondered if she looked better than him in that chair. Then again, being a captain wasn't about looks and charisma alone.

 

For a heartbeat Chris wondered if he was holding her back and buried the thought. The thought stung, but it also made him proud too of how far his Illyrian second-in-command had come.

 

With a smooth movement he watched Una stand and relieve the chair to him. For a moment their eyes met and he almost forgot to sit down. His breath stuttered and the ghost of a smile began to play on his lips. For that fleeting moment his mask faltered, warmth slipping through the cracks. It seemed to him to last forever, especially when she returned the faint ghost of a close-lipped smile to him.

 

Then the reverie shattered as Una turned towards the console in front of him, settling at Ops after Mitchell got up and left for the changeover.

 

Most embarrassingly, he noticed Spock having had swiveled in his chair, watching him with a cocked eyebrow.

 

Christopher Pike fought the urge to actually clear his throat as he sat down. "Status report?"

 

He was only half listening as Spock gave his report, eyes on Una now seated back at ops.

 

If it was anything like the rest of the mission things would be nominal and boring.

 

It was only when Spock ended with, "And the crew remains…alert." That he came back to the present. He half wondered if that was a veiled threat in those clipped words. The tone certainly suggested it, but with Vulcans one could never be too sure.

 

Pike forced a wry smile, pretending he caught all of the technobabble. "Good to hear. Let's keep it that way." Inwardly he was stung by how transparent he must look, but outwardly he still kept up his mask. Or at least he hoped he did.

 

He did notice Una glancing back just briefly as if to check in on him. Not unkindly, but it was enough to make him sit straighter. That brief acknowledgement from Spock was all it took to remind him why he can't afford to slip up anymore like that. As much as Spock disapproved of the relationship, Chris knew he would never snitch on them.

 

"However, Captain, there are minor fluctuations in the lateral sensory arrays. They are likely the result of the nebula's density pockets, but I recommend continued observation."

 

Chris nodded. "Noted, but keep me posted. Helm, adjust course to give us some breathing room."

 

"Aye aye, Captain." Erica replied, fingers dancing across her console to adjust the Enterprise. "So, still boring then? Guess I'll try not to fall asleep at the helm."

 

Pike let out the faintest huff and volleyed back dryly, "Try not to Erica. I'd hate to explaino starfleet how we dented the Enterprise because you nodded off."

 

That earned a few subdued smiles across the bridge and just like that, his captain's mask settled firmly back in place.

 

He hadn’t realized until now how different the bridge sounded when he walked in. Una’s bridge was quieter, steadier, the chatter subdued but purposeful. His own command brought more noise, more rhythm. He wondered if the crew found hers easier to breathe in.

 

Chris hadn't been in the chair long, but already he could tell how everyone reacted had changed. Some of the crewmen were sitting straighter, yet those who knew the Captain personally were definitely more relaxed. Una's bridge was quieter, steadier, the chatter subdued, but personal. His own command carried a different kind of ease. Not silence, but warmth. Like the table in his quarters when he held his dinner parties. Una's presence stilled most of the crew into composure but his drew them into camaraderie. Neither better nor worse, just different cadences of the same ship's heartbeat.

 

The Captain shifted in his chair almost swearing he could feel the thrum of the Enterprise change as Erica shifted their course. He frowned a little when he noticed something from deep within the nebula. The light had changed, growing darker almost. He caught a flash of movement or two from within like they'd noticed previously, but this seemed different.

 

If his perception was true it also seemed huge.

 

Planet-sized even.

 

"Spock, do our sensors pick up on any planets within Azura-9?" Christopher Pike asked. He knew it was crazy. Nebulas were stellar nurseries, not proto-planetary disks. It was usually after a star was born anyway that they were made.

 

Another glance back from Una, perplexed this time. Even Erica looked vaugely confused. They'd all had basic astronomy courses at the Academy and all knew how insane that sounded.

 

"Sir?" The Vulcan asked from the science station. Obviously he didn't feel the need to point out the obvious.

 

"Just humor me." Chris replied, eyes still on the viewscreen and specifically that region that looked darker to him.

 

"Sir, you are aware that it is nearly impossible for a planet to already be within a nebula such as this?" Ah, there it was. Apparently he had felt the need to state the obvious.

 

"I am aware, Mr Spock, just humor me." He repeated, faintly annoyed.

 

"Planets in a nebula? Next you'll be telling me there's a bar in there too." Erica huffed and for the time being Chris ignored the jibe.

 

From the tones coming from the science station Chris could tell that he was, in fact, humoring him.

 

"Sensors indicate there is a mass and gravity field large enough to be a planet within the nebula." His voice intoned.

 

So he was right.

 

There was something in there.

 

As if to accentuate Chris' point the planet decided to sneak out of the nebula. It wasn't fully revealed, mostly encapsulated in the nebula's cloud. He couldn't help but wonder how he hadn't noticed it before.

 

The gas cloud parted just enough to tease at the curvature of a planet. No details could be seen yet as it was backlit by the orbiting dwarves.

 

The console pinged as Spock checked the readings. "It is, in fact, terrestrial in origin. There are residual oxygen isotopes suggestive of a prior m-class planet." He read out.

 

All around, including his own, eyes widened.

 

"This was once someone's world." He breathed in awe and horror alike. Chris couldn't help but wonder what sort of catastrophe had been wrought to leave it this way.

 

"Indeed."

 

For the first time since Chris stepped on the bridge, Una spoke up. "Planets don't just form in nebulas without a parent star…How did this one end up here?" She asked, craning back to look at Spock.

 

"That is correct. However, there is a small likelihood that the white dwarves that have been affecting Enterprise also managed to capture a rouge planet." He glanced back at the readings. "It is comparable to Earth in size, however the surface gravity is fractionally lesser. The readings do indicate that it once had tectonic activity as well as a previously breathable atmosphere, yet none exists today."

 

Una raised an eyebrow at that. "So it was inhabitable?"

 

Spock nodded. "Once, perhaps. Now it is sterile. Radiation levels consistent with exposure to high-energy stellar winds, presuably from the nebula and the dwarves. No biosignatures present on current scans."

 

Chris shifted uncomfortably in the Chair. He did have to wonder about the mysterious flashes of movement they kept seeing within the nebula at Spock's, "no biosignatures present on current scans."

 

"A whole planet cooked alive…that's cheerful. Damn, call me picky but I was hoping to find that bar." Erica muttered from navigation. "A ghost planet, that's what that is. Just what we needed…"

 

"There's no pleasing some people." Chris sighed with a chuckle and a shake of his head, however amused he was by Erica's choice of words.

 

Uhura cut in, her voice soft with awe. "Ghosts leave echoes, Erica, but I'm not hearing anything at all." She pointed out. "If there's any remenants left of their civilization, we'd only find them closer in, Captain." She said.

 

"I agree with the ensign, sir." Spock said. "We can find out only so much without going to the surface. Readings do indicate that there are buildings, infrastructure. Geological scans are inconsistent with natural formations. Linear structures, hard angles, grid-like layout and such."

 

"So there was a civilization?" Chris asked and a hush fell on the bridge. Only the chirping of the consoles was heard. It was a shared moment of awe. This wasn't just an anomaly, it was a planet-wide graveyard.

 

"With these readings I would assume so."

 

The silence only seemed to deepen. Chris couldn't help but think about what this could've been like on Earth. San Francisco and Starfleet Academy remaining only as empty husks. It sent shivers down his spine that he suppressed. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of catastrophe had struck to sling a planet so far from its original orbit.

 

"If we do go down to the surface, sir, I would urge caution. Transporters would not be a logical choice as the radiation would make them unreliable. A shuttle descent would be safer."

 

Una fully swiveled in her chair to look back at Spock and by proxy, him. He tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach at her gaze. What was he, a schoolboy?

 

"That also means risk. Navigating through plasma storms this close to the dwarves won't be easy. The nebula also poses a risk too." She said.

 

The Captain nodded. Chris couldn't help but notice the grin that spread across Erica's face with a faint chuckle. "Ready to stretch your legs, Ortegas?"

 

"More than ready, sir." She said, her grin getting cocky. "Lucky for you, I'm the best pilot in the fleet." She said with a languid stretch.

 

"Skill won't help if we can't hear each other through the static." Uhura muttered under her breath. She didn't realize that she'd been overheard until Pike piped up.

 

"The nebula's interference is already degrading comms. If there are any remnants of language or data down there, we'll only learn about them up close. And, we can boost power to comms anyway if we need to." Chris reassured. He thought for a moment as Una swiveled back to her console.

 

"Ensign, your place is usually on comms, but if there's even a chance we'll find records of what happened down there you'll be with us."

 

"Sir, with respect I am a communications officer, not an explorer. You'd get more use out of me monitoring things from here."

 

Chris couldn't help but chuckle, remembering how nervous he'd been his first few away missions.

 

"Not this time," He said, but not unkindly. "If there are voices left down there, you're the one I trust to hear them. You and Sam."

 

Una had seen the way his jaw set before she'd turned back round. She knew he always did that whenever he'd made up his choice and ended up being stubborn about it. The idea of sending down an ensign made her uneasy. She knew Sam Kirk was the logical choice and even Uhura was too, but the lack of experience set her on tenterhooks.

 

"Captain," She said at last, keeping her voice neutral as she swiveled back again. "You're putting a lot on an ensign who's not trained for ground ops." She ignored Erica who seemed to perk up, sensing the drama on the bridge that was about to unfold.

 

Chris noticed too, but also ignored it. He only met her gaze with a half smile, the kind that told her he wasn't budging.

 

Una felt a smallest flicker of frustration. The same frustration she always did when his instinct won over her caution.

 

She always had.

 

She always did.

 

Chris nodded. "Your concerns are warranted, Number One, but Uhura here does need the experience regardless. Prep an away team."

Chapter Text

Christopher Pike walked with his science officer to the shuttle bay.

 

Spock had joined him on the way down. The corridors bustled with crewmen and yeomen all going about their daily business. Often, they parted way for the two like the stories his dad told him of the Red Sea.

 

For the second time since they'd joined up Spock was arguing against sending so many senior bridge crew along with an ensign.

 

"Spock, I am aware of the risks in taking so many bridge crew. However, they are all highly qualified for this mission, you included." Christopher Pike said as he walked with his science officer to the transporter room. He was decked out in Starfleet's latest EV suits as was Spock. His Vulcan science officer really seemed hellbent on testing his patience.

 

"Captain, the probability of mission failure increases by 17% if you, personally, are incapacitated. Including four other senior bridge crew, it increases to 24%."

 

Chris fought the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Spock was all about the fine line and percentages and other science jargon, but sometimes it got a bit much. "Spock, it's an uninhabited dead world, as far as we're aware there's no lifeforms down there."

 

"While that may yet be the case, Enterprise has encountered life forms before that show up on none of our scanners." Spock calmly pointed out as he walked beside his captain. "In addition there is the gravitational threat of the white dwarves."

 

"You said the orbit was stable." Chris responded with a raised eyebrow.

 

“It is, yes. But the radiation remains a hazard even when the planet is at its furthest. And Captain…” Spock’s tone sharpened a fraction. “The risks increase unnecessarily when you, the commanding officer, insist on accompanying this mission.”

 

Chris sighed. "Spock, if I wanted to sit safely behind a desk, I wouldn’t have signed up for Starfleet. Or I would've joined accounting."He pointed out bluntly, glancing over as Una fell in step beside them. The landing gear suited her—sharp lines of gold and black catching the overhead light. She wore it like she’d been born to command in it, and for a moment Pike forgot what argument they were having.

 

He also noticed how her long, brunette hair was up in a bun this time. He assumed it was so it would fit better in a helmet without getting in her vision. Still, damn, it suited her.

 

She looked good.

 

Chris almost envied how she managed to make even standard landing gear look good. He forced his eyes straight, chiding himself. He reminded himself this was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts. Regardless, he risked one last quick glance and just about melted again.

 

He didn't deserve her.

 

Una fell in step beside them, her mouth twitching at Spock’s persistence. She was also dressed in her own gold chest-plated gear, "Spock, don’t bother,"she said. "Chris would argue against gravity if given the chance."

 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Number One." Chris remarked dryly.

 

Una mock bowed as they walked. "A pleasure, captain."

 

Chris rolled his eyes, but knew she was teasing regardless.

 

They continued their walk to the shuttle bay. Soon enough the doors appeared and they walked in. There, they found Uhura being helped into her gear by Erica who was already dressed in her's. Both had red chest plating.

 

The three walked in, joining the other three.

 

Sam Kirk stood by one of the equipment cases, running final checks on the geological scanners. He didn't look up as he spoke. "Readings from orbit suggest complex strata under the surface. Combine that with the stellar winds from the Azura-9 and the influence of the binary stars? I doubt there's any life down there."

 

Chris glanced over his shoulder. "Think we'll find anything down there despite it all?"

 

"If the radiation didn't fry it, maybe. Something about this place feels…off." Sam shut the case with a decisive click. "I'll know more when we land."

 

Pike nodded and called everyone in.

 

"Alright, so here's the deal," He said, grabbing their attention and activating the holographic display on the PADD. The planet's pale surface flickered to life where everyone could see it. "Our scans show a minimal atmosphere with radiation levels still within safe parameters. It's barren, dead as far as we can tell." He glanced at Spock who nodded.

 

"Well set down by the western plateau and make our way to one of the cities, see what we can find on these people. Communications with Enterprise will be patchy at best."

 

He swiped at the holographic display and it changed to their flight path. "This is our flight plan. Pretty plain and simple, however don't be surprised if we hit a patch or two of turbulence." He said with a knowing look at Erica who was doing final checks on her gear. Of course, she already knew the flight path having gone over it before she'd changed.

 

"Aye, aye, Captain." She gave a mock salute before continuing on.

 

Chris noticed Una's lips thin imperceptibly, but didn't comment on it. Erica was known for her blunt, cocky attitude after all.

 

The hum of the shuttle bay danced around them. The captain watched his pilot disappear into their chosen shuttle, the Galileo to do pre-flight. Voices bounced faintly off the large walls of the bay as his chosen crewmembers talked amongst themselves.

 

He didn't have much to do so he watched alongside Una until such a time as they needed to board. It wouldn't be a long away mission, so they didn't need to pack extra supplies save for the emergency ones already on the shuttle. Spock was going over the tricorders, making sure they were all charged and functional.

 

Chris noticed that Uhura was humming to herself. She'd once mentioned that she did that when she was nervous. He glanced at Una and they exchanged a look and she nodded. He walked over to their comms officer with the intent of providing a little comfort. The sharp smell of metal was heavy in the air this close to the shuttle even if they didn't notice it.

 

“Deep breaths, Lieutenant,” he said, tone light but firm. “You’ve done harder launches.” He comforted as he walked up to her.

 

Uhura smiled faintly, hands steadying against the shuttle. "Yes, sir. It’s not the launch, it’s… the quiet out there.” She nodded towards the closed bay doors.

 

Pike followed her gaze to the faint shimmer of the nebula beyond the bay’s force field. Azura-9 seemed like any other gas cloud nebula — if it weren't for the unsettling movements and flashes of light they kept seeing. Even the inexplicable draw he experienced suggested that there was something 6more going on here.

 

“Still just space,” he said. But he didn’t quite believe it himself. From where he stood he swore he could feel Una's raised eyebrow even if he didn't have their previous chief engineer's telepathic capabilities. He could hear Una's steady and even footsteps as she walked over.

 

"A word?" He gave Uhara a half apologetic look before letting Una lead him away.

 

"Are you sure about going on this mission?" She asked and he sighed. "Number One, you've already tried this. Spock just tried this. I'm going."

 

“You’re sure about this one?” Una asked quietly.

 

Pike looked at her, half a smile flickering and fading. “I’ve got to be.” He didn't understand why, but something told him he had to be there. For what, however, Chris didn't know. He inhaled softly. "It's also about doing my job, Number One."

 

“I know.” Her tone softened. “It just feels… soon. You sure this isn't about her?" She asked, half wondering if she had gone too far with Chris' wince.

 

He didn’t answer right away, eyes fixed on the bay doors, refusing now to meet her gaze. “It always will feel too soon. No, this isn't about Marie."

 

The silence that followed was somewhat awkward, but not uncomfortable. Una hesitated with her expression softening. She reached out, then laid a hand briefly in his shoulder. No words, just a simple touch before she stepped back.

 

Chris didn't move for a heartbeat, then gave her a nod of quiet thanks. She didn't press him further after that. They stood in the silence, the hum of the shuttle bay filling the space between. When he finally turned away, Una's gaze followed him steady, unreadable now but filled with something warmer than worry. She watched the set of his shoulders, the faint tension he always carried before a mission.

 

"It will always feel too soon," She echoed softly under her breath, not sure if she meant it for him who had already walked out of range or herself.

 

The shuttle craft started coming to life. Its thrusters weren't on yet, but they purred idly.

 

Evidently Erica had gotten up and stepped out, leaning her head out of the open door. "Anyone planning on joining me for this mission or am I the only one going?" She called.

 

Chris couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled out. Leave it to Erica to break the tension. Spock also had walked over, meeting up with him with the bag of tech in his had. "All tricorders are functioning nominally, sir." He said.

 

Chris nodded as he climbed in, Una catching up behind with Uhara. "Good, let's get this show on the road."

 

The hatch sealed with a quiet thunk, muffling the bay’s background hum. Pike took his seat beside the forward console, the familiar rhythm of launch steadying the hollow ache he hadn’t quite shaken.

 

Others took their seats as well. Una beside Erica, Spock at the science console, Uhura at comms just like on the bridge. The only difference was Sam strapping himself in behind them in the extra seat.

 

"Just remember to not touch anything that hums, glows, or explodes." Sam joked as he clicked himself in, getting a chuckle out of Chris.

 

Erica’s fingers danced across the controls. “Engines hot and ready, Captain.”

 

“Take us out,” he said.

 

The deck shuddered as the shuttle lifted, stars and nebula light merging into one blinding swirl beyond the viewport. The Galileo slipped free of the bay, its hull catching the last reflection of the Enterprise’s lights before the gold haze of Azura-9 swallowed it whole.

 

Within minutes, the planet began to take shape ahead scarred, silent and waiting.

 

The shuttle trembled as turbulence clawed at the hull. Erica tightened her grip on the controls, guiding them through the amber haze with practiced precision.

 

"We're picking up on mild turbulence as we enter the atmosphere." Erica called out as even Chris gripped his seat.

 

"This is mild?"

 

Erica let out a cocky sort of grin, but didn't take her eyes off the scene ahead as they were flying VFR rather than autopilot. "Says the other test pilot in the room." She teased back.

 

Chris fought the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, he'd been a test pilot, but that didn't mean he liked a bumpy ride down. He chanced a glance around the shuttle, logging how everyone else was handling it.

 

Spock seemed to be just fine, while Una was gripping her seat like him, but otherwise handled it like a champ. Uhura looked almost pale, like she was about to be sick with the jerking around.

 

"Hey, it'll be okay." He called back to her.

 

"I'll believe that when we set down." The ensign replied, even sounding vaguely scared.

 

Chris exchanged a look with Una, but he couldn't exactly blame Uhura.

 

The deck rattled unnervingly beneath their feet, sending shudders up their legs. It jerked around as if caught in a storm of sorts out in a sea. The golden glow of Azura-9 made it seem otherworldly.

 

“Compensating for crosswinds,” Erica called, her voice tight with focus. Her fingers moved in sharp, sure motions across the controls as the shuttle bucked again. “Almost through the upper layer.”

 

The Captain braced against the console, the vibration humming through his palms. Through the viewport, the clouds flickered gold and violet, flashes of lightning rippling soundlessly through the haze. The turbulence eased, but the air felt heavy—thick with static, like the calm after thunder.

 

"The turbulence is cause by the debris from the residual ion storms that Azura-9 inflicts on the planet." Spock said from where he sat at his science console, seemingly unaffected by the rough ride. "It should smooth out the father we descend."

 

Chris drew a slow breath and looked to the front. The planet’s surface spread beneath them—ashen plains cut by deep fractures that caught the last of the nebula’s light. He noticed Uhura at comms, glancing over final details despite her ashen complexity that the turbulence had brought on.

 

"Just as a reminder…" She called nervously. "Communications with Enterprise will be affected by the stellar winds from the nebula. It'll be spotty at best."

 

"Noted." Chris said, watching as the planet's surface started coming to view. The turbulence only seemed to increase in intensity the further they went down.

 

Through the thinning haze, the surface came into view — a vast expanse of fractured stone and shadow, scored by deep chasms that stretched for kilometers. The light from Azura-9 painted everything in uneven gold, sliding across the terrain like liquid fire. Dust shimmered in the upper air, suspended in lazy drifts that caught the light before vanishing into the gloom.

 

Beneath it all, Chris felt that ache again. It started low in his chest, a pull he couldn’t name, like a memory surfacing from somewhere deeper than thought. It gnawed at him, steady and quiet, threading beneath the hum of the engines. Not for the first time he wondered why he even experienced it. There was nothing here that should draw him in such a way. Yet, it had been there since Enterprise first entered the sector.

 

He couldn't let it show and swallowed it down.

 

The crew would no doubt think he was loosing it.

 

Up ahead the surface loomed, scrubbed, scarred and silent. It looked like a barren and dead world.

 

Minutes passed by as they hovered ever closer. True to Spock's word, the shuttle did even out, the turbulence lessening. Chris couldn't help but feel a surge of amusement at Erica's rather goofy face of concentration. Tongue stuck out and everything.

 

Spock suddenly spoke up with his eyes never leaving his console. "Captain, there are hollows beneath us. Scanners suggest caverns of some kind. They seem to be artificially made given by the size the scans reveal."

 

Una's lips thinned. "Caverns….so the ground could be unstable?"

 

"Potentially, yes." He said with a glance at Erica.

 

"Got it. I'll try and set her down with a feather's breath." Erica said. "No pressure there."

 

His breath hitched. The word caverns hit like a physical blow.

 

The ache in his chest surged, sharper now, threatening to drag up everything he'd been trying to bury. The damp smell of the underground prison where the Vezda had been held. Gamble in front of them, mocking them, attacking him and Marie.

 

He'd told himself that he'd moved past it. That time, command, and duty had dulled it. But the body remembered what the mind refused to carry.

 

His hands clenched reflexively against the seat he'd been gripping anyway, as if he was giving her that reassuring squeeze before they walked through that door.

 

Memories of a life that could've, should've, would've happened but hadn't.

 

Chris forced his hands to steady, drawing in a breath that seemed too shallow.

 

The golden glow of Azura-9 now above reminded him too much of the light that had poured out of Marie's hands. That light didn't seem so beautiful to him now. It was too close to that particular radiance.

 

Una turned towards him, catching the flicker of strain on his face before he masked it. She didn't speak, but he could feel the weight of her attention and quiet concern that threaded through her composure. It was steady and wordless, like gravity finding him again and grounding him back in the here and now.

 

Another breath and when he moved to speak he prayed that his voice was steady enough to hide the inner tumult. "Understood. We'll confirm on sight."

 

Outside, the planet's surface rippled with gold and shadow, fractured and raw.

 

The shuttle touched down with a gentle jolt; one of Erica's softer landings.

 

Christopher Pike would never admit it out loud, but he was grateful for the distraction. He stood with the others as Spock started handing out tricorders. He checked his phaser even though they shouldn't need them here when a hand appeared on his.

 

Una's.

 

His hand was cold. She felt the tremor before she saw it, the faint stiffness that told her where his mind had gone.

 

As if she hadn't seen the look on his face for a heartbeat, nor noticed how he'd stiffened at caverns.

 

As if she hadn’t seen the look on his face for a heartbeat, or noticed how he’d gone still at caverns.

 

She’d seen that look before — after Vadia IX. Each time, he’d hidden it behind orders, behind the rhythm of duty. But the body always betrayed the truth first.

 

“Hey,” she said, her voice quieter than she expected. “Just breathe. You’re here. One step at a time.”

 

It wasn’t an order. It was a promise — the kind only a first officer could make to her captain. A reminder that he wasn’t carrying this alone.

 

He met her gaze for a moment, the muscle in his jaw easing, his hand stilling beneath hers. The breath he drew was slow, rough, like surfacing from deep water.

 

Una said nothing more as she withdrew. She didn’t need to. The warmth she’d left in his hand said everything words would’ve broken.

 

Sam had been silent through the descent, half buried in early readings but he looked up now. His eyes flicked between Chris and Una — sharp enough to catch what passed in the silence between them, but wise enough to not comment on it.

 

"I hate to interrupt the private moment, Captain, but our soil sensors are already screaming at me." Sam Kirk said from behind them as he was unlatching himself from the seat. "Whatever this planet used to be," He said as he stood. " It's not exactly friendly now."

 

The Captain drew in another steadying breath and nodded, grateful for the shift in focus. "Duly noted, Mister Kirk, Let's make it quick before it decides to fall apart under us."

 

The tension thinned as he donned his helmet, others following suit. It was replaced by the rhythm of duty; the one thing that always steadied him.

 

"Next time, maybe pick a planet that isn't trying to actively dissolve? Because if this thing caves in under the shuttle and strands us here I'm haunting you, personally."

 

The ramp hissed as it lowered, spilling a thin fog of pressurized air into the stillness outside. Dust lifted and swirled in the ship's under lights, catching the faint gold of Azura-9 like scattered embers.

 

Pike was the first to step down. The ground crunched beneath his boots, brittle and pitted stone that gave a hollow sound, as if there was more air than earth beneath them. The wind had no real weight to it, just a dry whisper threading through broken rock.

 

"Readings confirm traces of atmospheric gases," Spock reported, sweeping the area with the tricorder scanner. "No active biosigns."

 

Erica joined them outside, shivering but she was only half faking it. "Feels like a graveyard."

 

They moved out in a slow line, those that had tricorders swept them in wide arcs. The ground sloped towards what looked like the bones of a city. Outlines of walls, the faint geometry of streets half-buried in dust.

 

"Architecture confirmed," Said Sam. "I'd guess it to be around several millennia old?" He glanced down at his scanner. "Confirmed. Its' composition is unfamiliar, however, even with these scans."

 

"I concur with that, Mister Kirk." Said Spock, eyes down at his own tricorder.

 

The Captain squinted toward the horizon. The faint light played tricks on distance; what looked like hills may have been towers.

 

"Alright," He said. "Let's find out who used to live here."

 

"Or what." Erica pointed out, powering up her phaser since she had nothing else to do.

 

They walked forward across the fractured plain, boots crunching against dust that reflected Azura-9's golden hues. The silence pressed in on them. It was too complete, too careful. Even the tricorder seemed to hum quieter here.

 

Chris tried to focus on the rhythm of their footsteps, but that same ache from orbit tugged deeper now. Not the one that he got whenever he remembered Marie, but the one he'd had since they'd arrived here on the edge of the nebula.

 

"I;m getting trace mineral readings," Sam said, crouching near a broken ridge. "Looks like the surface vitrified—some kind of high-energy event."

 

"That would concur with the stellar winds from Azura-9." Spock said.

 

"It's too quiet here, I don't like it." Erica muttered as Uhura walked beside her. "Not even a blip with transmissions, either." Their comms ensign said.

 

The wind had died entirely now as they approached one of the former cities. Even the sound of their boots seemed to fade as they crossed the hills.

 

Chris didn't hear them. Something inside shifted. Not pain, exactly, but the same pull he'd experienced on Enterprise and in coming here. It was stronger, the ache now swelled through his chest like a held breath finally breaking free. His pulse slowed, the sound of the others dulled, distant.

 

Above them, the nebula unfurled. What had unnerved him on approach now held awe for him. The colors weren't light anymore, but movement. Loving gold and soft flame, forest green and the rare deep-ocean blue. They all spiraled like a tide across the upper atmosphere. It wasn't just beautiful; it was alive.

 

It saw him.

 

The Captain couldn't move. His hands hung limp at his sides. The shimmer filled his eyes, reflecting in his visor. The hum in his ears deepened into something that almost sounded like voices, low and endless, whispering in rhythm with his heartbeat.

 

He wasn't afraid. Not yet. Just…quiet.

 

Uhura noticed him just standing there with a worried frown and walked over to Una.

 

"Does he normally act like that on away missions?" Uhura asked, clearly nervous about the Captain's sudden change in behavior.

 

"No…" Una replied with her lips thinning into a frown. She should go over there and break him out of whatever this trance was.

 

"Chris?" Una's voice called as she walked over, echoing throughout all of their helmets thanks to comms.

 

No response.

 

Spock looked up from his readings. "The Captain's biosigns have altered. Reduced motor response, heightened neural activity."

 

"No shit, Sherlock." Erica muttered, noticing the situation had changed.

 

"He's not hearing us." Uhura noticed, now looking mildly more freaked out.

 

Una was already walking over. She reached him, fingers gripping his hand. His head tilted slightly towards the light, unblinking, yet he hadn't registered her presence.

 

"Chris," She said, her voice sharper now. "Look at me."

 

The nebula pulsed, a soft flare of gold. For a second, the glow in his visor mirrored it perfectly, as though it lived behind his eyes. Then, with a sharp inhale, Pike startled and stumbled, catching himself on her shoulder.

 

The world returned all at once—sound, weight, breath.

 

Chris blinked hard, dragging air into his lungs as though he'd been holding it for hours.

 

"Report.: He managed, though his voice was hoarse and rough.

 

"You froze up," Said Una. She didn't let her grip go, however. "What happened?"

 

Pike's gaze flicked skyward again, to where the nebula still shimmered faintly through the haze.

 

"I don't know." He said softly. "It felt like the nebula saw me."

 

Erica openly gawked. Had the captain lost it? "That's impossible, right?" Uhura elbowed her. She exclaimed, rubbing her shoulder. "What was that for?" She asked indigniantly. Only now did Sam turn back from his exploring, realizing something had happened.

 

Spock broke the silence first. "Captain, it would be logical to return to the shuttlecraft and back to Enterprise to re-evaluate our scans and the situation. This phenomenon may be influencing your neural activity."

 

For once, Chris didn't argue. His pulse still hadn't quite settled and the weight of Una's hand on his was the only thing keeping him anchored.

 

"Agreed." He said, though his eyes still lingered on the nebula's shimmer above the haze. "We'll regroup on Enterprise and run data through Command's filters."

 

"Copy that," Erica muttered, already keying her phaser back to safety. "And maybe next time we pick a planet that's not quite so creepy."

 

Uhura tried to laugh, but the sound faltered before it reached her lips.

 

The wind picked up again as they headed back. It was a faint whispering that danced through the fractures in the stone around them. Chris could almost swear he heard voices on it, but he didn't dare voice that. He didn't turn around, but he could still feel the nebula's slow pulse still brushing at the edge of his mind.

Chapter Text

 

The Galileo slipped through the shuttle-bay doors in near silence, engines fading to a whisper. Behind her, the nebula’s golden light spilled across the deck, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the normally shadowed bay. Moments after touchdown, the engines powered down and the hush settled in for good.

 

"With respect, sir, you should see Doctor M'Benga." Spock said as they unbuckled from their seats.

 

Chris had expected this, but regardless he was left unamused. "I'm aware, Mister Spock, but I'm fine."

 

Now it was Una's turn to look unamused. "Chris, that didn't look fine to me down there." She bluntly pointed out. Even if they were in the middle of a gorgeous nebula Captains didn't just freeze up like that.

 

Sensing drama Erica watches from around the corner on the Galileo, pulling Nyota beside her.

 

"Ow, what was that for?!" Uhura exclaimed and Erica hushed her. Soon enough, she peered around Erica to see what was going on that had her riveted.

 

“Shit's about to go down,” Erica muttered under her breath, low and gleeful. She knew that look on Una’s face—the locked jaw, the command posture that could stop a warp core breach in its tracks.

 

Uhura, beside her, leaned forward just enough to peek around the console. “You think she’s gonna pull rank?”

 

Erica grinned wolfishly. “Honey, she’s already loading the photon torpedoes.”

 

“Captain...” Una said lowly, but waringly in what could only be described as the Mom Tone.

 

Since they were pulling rank, two could play at that game. “Number One, I am fine.” Chris bit out, voice tight. His icy eyes didn’t waver.

 

From the shuttle bay, Erica slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh, he did not just ‘Number One’ her,” she whispered.

 

Uhura’s eyes widened. “He totally did.”

 

Chris could feel their gazes from the Galileo, but at this point, decorum was circling the drain. The real danger was standing right in front of him. Una didn’t flinch. Neither did he. The tension between them stretched so taut it could’ve sung.

 

Sam stepped out of the shuttle just in time to catch the fallout, freezing mid-stride like a man spotting a photon mine. “Uhhhh,” he said slowly, scanning the pair, “I’ll, uh, go… check on the tricorders. Make sure they’re… fully charged.”

 

He beat a hasty retreat down the corridor.

 

“Smart man,” Erica said.

 

“Coward,” Uhura countered, though her smirk betrayed amusement.

 

“Survivor,” Erica corrected, watching with something akin to fascination. “You don’t cut in when the CO and XO are negotiating the laws of physics.”

 

Una’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. Chris folded his arms.

 

Erica elbowed Uhura. “You think he’s gonna fold first?”

 

Uhura tilted her head, studying the pair. “Nah. This one’s going to overtime.”

 

Spock watched from the sidelines, watching with some interest. Unlike the two up in the shuttle he was doing it covertly, fiddling with the tricorder in his hand and watching from the side of his vision.

 

The silence stretched long and heavy. Chris was defiant. Una, tenacious.

 

Finally, Una broke the silence. "Sir, with respect that was the second time you spaced out today on this mission. Spock said something about elevated neurological activity."

 

Spock nodded his assent, not taking his eyes off the information that he was going over. "That is correct. I suspect the first one was more…emotional."

 

"Spock, I didn't ask for an emotional analysis. If I had, I'd be in therapy." Chris retorted dryly.

 

Una stared him down with her jaw set. Eventually, he gave way with a sigh. "Alright, alright Number One," He threw up his hands in defeat. "You win."

 

He turned and left with Una's eyes boring into him, almost daring him to do anything other than go straight to sickbay.

 

On the walk down he started feeling frustrated. Frustrated that he couldn't hold his own over his own Second. He wasn't annoyed at her, but at himself.

 

Sure, Una took up space and he loved that about her, but there were times were he wished it wasn't so obvious. A captain shouldn't be overridden like that unless it was an emergency or else they were otherwise incapacitated.

 

He admired the hell out of Una’s steadiness, but there were moments she could be… formidable. The kind of formidable that reminded him how easily she could command this ship if he faltered.

 

By the time he stepped into Sickbay, his expression had reset — the easy, composed captain once more — but the tension still coiled behind his eyes.

 

Chris loved Una, but there were times she was downright scary.

 

However, he hated being in the sickbay even more since Marie's death. There were just too many memories of her there. For a heartbeat, he paused, hesitating before he walked in.

 

"The king graces us with his presence." Called M'Benga when he saw him walk in. There was a teasing to his voice. At least Joseph always knew how to perk him up. The teasing warmth cut through like sunlight on a cold day."What can I do for you, Captain?"

 

Chris walked over, meeting him halfway after the CMO had gotten up to greet him. "Una was…persistent I come and get checked out. I froze on the surface, yet I'm fine now."

 

That caught Joesph's attention. He couldn't resist the chuckle. "That's Una alright. You froze?"

 

The captain nodded. "Apparently for a few minutes. Didn't feel that long but you can't blame me for being entranced by that nebula, Joseph. It's not everyday you get to see one from inside on a planet."

 

Joseph could tell that there was something more to the story here. He gestured over to the biobed, letting Chris explain things in his own time.

 

Chris walked over and sat on it, albeit reluctantly. "Spock said something about my neurological activity spiking?"

 

"Could just be the adrenaline. Away missions aren't often a cozy adventure."

 

"No, they aren't." He agreed, watching M'Benga dissapear to find a scanner. He came back and started scanning.

 

"Anything else happen?" His CMO asked.

 

A moment of silence as Chris wondered whether to tell him about the brief panic attack. He sighed softly and M'Benga watched him while he scanned, patient as ever. Occasionally he glanced at the readouts.

 

"I had a panic attack…I think. Kirk found signs of caverns underneath…" He trailed off, not wanting to go any deeper.

 

Joseph's expression softened a little. "Because of Marie?"

 

He nodded. "I…think so." Why else would that particular word hit him like it had?

 

"That's not uncommon after we tragically lost her." The CMO said in a hushed and compassionate tone. "You are still grieving her."

 

And I always will.

 

For a second, Joseph thought the biobed flickered—a faint golden shimmer in the scan field—but when he blinked, it was gone.

 

He lapsed into silence, watching his medic work. Chris noticed the light frown that showed up on Joseph's face. "What is it?"

 

"Well, after a field op your stress hormones, Cortisol, Adrenaline and the usual suspects should be elevated. The scans are showing baseline, however." He said. "I'll have to do a second scan just to make sure it isn't the biobed or the scanner malfunctioning." He wandered off to find a second one before coming back.

 

This time Chris watched Joseph study him, almost as if reading a specimen.

 

"Have you been getting enough sleep, Chris?" He asked.

 

Chris debated whether to lie, but then again CMOs tended to sniff out lies like a scenthound. "I haven't. And before you ask Una's already been on my case about that since we entered this sector."

 

He watched as Joseph's lips thinned. "As your CMO you should've told me. I'll prescribe something to help you sleep. If it doesn't work, come back and let me know." He said as the biobed chirped that the scans were done.

 

"Hm, back to what I would say is normal for after a field ops mission. Must've been a faulty scanner."

 

Chris sighed with relief. "So, I'm cleared for duty?"

 

M'Benga nodded. "That you are, my friend."

 

The Captain nodded got off the biobed. "Come back when you're finished with your shift and I can give you a hypospray for that sleep issue. Shouldn't be too busy then."

 

Chris nodded his assent and left sickbay.

 

~

 

The boatswain’s whistle cut through the low hum of the bridge as the turbolift doors hissed shut behind him. “Captain on the bridge!” someone called from the side consoles.

 

Once again, Una was temporarily in command while he'd been down in sickbay. Hell, he couldn't help noticing, that chair still fit her as if it was made for her. There were moments like this when he caught glimpses of what command looked like on her. Calm. Unshakable. Maybe a little too perfect for comfort.

 

"Give me an update, Number One." Chris said as Una stood. No need to ask if he'd been cleared; he wouldn't be here if he wasn't.

 

"Everything is mostly green across the board, sir." She said as she stood by the Chair as he sat back down.

 

The Captain raised an eyebrow at the report. "Mostly?" He asked incredulously. Starships didn't do mostly. Mostly meant there was something wrong somewhere.

 

Erica frowned from helm, leaning back in her chair idly. "How mostly are we talking about? One light blinking or the entire ship on fire?"

 

Una's lips pursed at being interrupted. "I think even you, Ortegas, would notice if we had a ship-wide fire." She retorted in an unamused voice.

 

The ship's pilot chuckled lowly, her head jerking to the side. "True that, sir."

 

The commander cleared her throat to continue. "EPS has some minor fluctuations. Ops reassured me that it could be from the nebula." She explained as Matthiews nodded her assent on her way out, leaving as Una took her spot at Ops.

 

He found it hard to focus on her words, but the report wasn't a long one thankfully. He hadn't been gone from command for a great length after all.

 

"Something we'll keep an eye on. There's been reports of systems hiccuping across the ship since we entered the sector." Chris said, having experienced one or two of these himself. They all had.

 

Chris watched his crew work, the hum of the engines reverberating softly beneath their feet. He started to notice a brush of warmth again. It settled as a brush against his collarbone arcing back to his neck. He frowned slightly, reaching up to rub the spot on his neck but it did nothing to alleviate the odd symptom. His vision blurred for just a second, the light from the nebula seemed to brighten unnaturally. The next breath in it was back to normal and he wondered if he'd hallucinated it.

 

Perhaps that hypospray that M'Benga had offered wasn't such a bad idea.

 

As he sat there he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched again. This time the sensation was so strong it felt like there was someone right behind him. Chris fought the urge to turn around and look knowing that logically there wouldn't be anyone there.

 

At the console in front of him Erica frowned slightly. The sense of being watched rippled goosebumps across her skin and raised the hairs on her neck. Chris took notice when she glanced around as if to see if anyone was watching.

 

"Helm?" He asked. "Is everything alright?"

 

"Yes, sir…." She paused, her instinct being to deflect, to hide this. "Aaaactually, no. It's like I'm being watched like before, but it's stronger." She shuddered.

 

Now that it was brought Chris, he could feel the same sensation.

 

"I've been feeling that too. I just thought it was all in my head." Uhara said from comms.

 

Weird that Una hadn't mentioned it. Unless she simply hadn't noticed it or brushed it off.

 

"Does everyone feel this?" Chris asked the bridge at large and assents came from across the board. Even from Spock.

 

A tremor, barely perceptible, seemed to pass through the floor. It pulsed once, twice, seemingly in time to his heartbeat. Had he just imagined that too? Hell, this sleepless thing really was getting out of hand.

 

Christopher Pike jumped in the captain's chair when Erica's console blared out an alarm.

 

"Helm?"

 

"Sir, something seems to be…well…" She trailed off as her fingers danced across the console. Even Una was leaning over slightly to look at the readout.

 

"Something seems to be orbiting the ship is the best way I can describe it." Erica finished.

 

Una leaned back, her nimble fingers also moving across the screen. "I'm not registering a solid object sir, whatever it is, it's not a ship."

 

Spock leaned forward to look into his own readout. "I can concur, sir, it has no mass. It is, however, creating an intense and fluctuating energy field."

 

Chris was baffled. Whatever this was things seemed to suggest it was energy based. He stiffened when he felt that warmth against his collarbone again, spreading to his shoulders before disappearing.

 

"Can we assert whether this is a threat?" He asked.

 

"Negative, Captain. However, so far it has not shown any actions that would prove it to be hostile." Spock pointed out from sciences.

 

"From the trajectory readouts I'm getting it's almost flying across the hull." Erica breathed, awe and fear battling for dominance of her expression.

 

"Ortegas, we are in space." Chris pointed out bluntly but she shook her head.

 

"This is different, sir. It's movement is so fluid like it's liquid or plasma or something." As Erica spoke, everyone glanced up as the lights flickered gold before returning back to white.

 

"Alright, since we don't know what this thing is, I want yellow alert." He said, the ship responded to the words with a single klaxon and the lighting shifted to yellow.

 

"I'm trying to hail it, sir, but all I'm getting back is…singing." Uhura said, looking baffled as she patched the sound through so they could all hear it. It was etheral, melodic, somewhere in the saprano range. It played for only a minute or two, but even then it was enough for Chris' neck hairs to stand up. The warmth on his collarbone seemed to burn hotter now. Not uncomfortable, but perhaps borderline.

 

It lingered on the air for a moment longer even after Uhara cut it off. It seemed to stick in the Captain's mind, however. He could almost feel the vibration of the sound running through his ribs. It ran through him, intertwining almost with his very being.

 

It was difficult, but he tried to ignore the freakish sensation.

 

They could have something on their hands here that needed his full attention.

 

"Sir, that…music for a lack of a better word is across multiple channels. The harmonic frequencies are interfering with everything from comms to the warp core and even life support. It stands to reason that if this creature wishes to destroy us…It could." The threat lingered like the harmonics did instead this was heavier.

 

A chill spread throughout the Captain.

 

"Would our weapons even damage it?" Erica asked, looking throughly freaked out now.

 

"It stands to reason that they may not."

 

Silence permeated the bridge so deep that they could all hear the distant thrum of the warp core. The goldenn light of Azura-9 seemed to wash out the yellow of the current alert status.

 

Within this silence Chris' heartbeat slowed to pulse in time with the harmonics they had just heard. He tried to ignore it like the flame under his skin, but he couldn't. For a moment, the bridge flickered. He felt a surge of confusion untiil he realized his vision was flickering. Golden light washed out everything, overtook everything.

 

It cleared with the next blink, but there was a brush against his mind that almost made him physically recoil. It was unbidden, foriegn, intimate, yet he got no sense of true danger from it.

 

You.

 

Pike blinks to try and shake the gold from his vision. The light seemed to linger behind his eyes stubbornly, pulsing faintly with his heartbeat.

 

"Captain?" Came Una's voice, cutting through the fog of whatever this was.

 

He forces a breath, the single word still resonating within him as he grounded himself. "I'm fine, Number One." He said, mask falling back into place.

 

All of a sudden there was a faint lurch in the deck. Too subtle for anyone to be thrown off balance or even notice if Chris wasn't already so self-aware of his body. It was, however, enough to make his stomach drop.

 

Spock glanced at his console with a vague frown when it chirped. "Captain, gravity variance detected." He said, sounding concerned for a Vulcan.

 

As if to accentuate the situation they all started to rise from their seats. A sensation that made his stomach churn.

 

"Well, this is new." Erica said as she grabbed onto her console to keep from floating too far away. They'd all had zero grav training at the Academy, but that was usually in a controlled setting.

 

The officer at tactical seemed to struggle to hold their position. It became clear that they were not used to zero gravity as the rest of them were. Not that they were used to it anyway. Uhara floated over to help, pulling them down so they could grasp the chair instead.

 

"You think?" Said Una, her brunette hair going crazy without gravity's force to keep it wrangled. Chris found the look mesmerizing…if he weren't floating upside down now. Immediately he tried to right and had a bit of difficulty as were the others on the bridge.

 

"Spock, is this shipwide or is it just the bridge?" He asked, now clinging to the back of the Chair.

 

Having taken a note from Erica, Spock grasped his own chair to keep from floating off. He glanced at his console, using only hand one hand to navigate it. "It would seem it is just the bridge, sir."

 

Well, at least there was that.

 

Chris was threatening to go head down again facing the viewscreen despite his firm grip on the Chair. It was growing rather frustrating.

 

That was until a spot on the viewscreen started to….Was the viewscreen pixelating? He openly gawked at the phenomenon which seemed to grow in size. Pixelations didn't happen on a viewscreen. That was for old Earth tech. Not unless there was something majorly wrong with it.

 

The whole thing started glitching and going haywire, turning heads.

 

The entire bridge crew watched in awe and horror as something leaked through an invisible seam next to the viewscreen where it was glitching on the outer edge facing the consoles along the back. It acted like liquid the way it moved, but it seemed like plasma or even energy.

 

The creature that pulled itself through the seam was all golds and yellows. At the fringes there were blues like the hottest flames. It dripped through, bits of its golden and blue essence dripping upwards. It didn't sear the bulkhead. In fact it threw off no heat whatsoever except for the heat that was taking over Christopher Pike's body at the moment. It seemed to be getting hotter as the creature revealed itself.

 

Its glow seemed to overcome nearby consoles, almost as if the light bent towards it. It was brightest at its center, a hot bright ember amongst the golds and blues.

 

"Unauthorized hull ingress." The bridge went awash with red and a klaxon blared. "Red alert." Intoned the computer at the intrusion, mistakeningly labelling this newcomer as a threat.

 

The creature hovered near the viewscreen as if regarding them. The spot near said viewscreen that it had come through was still glitching, but no longer glowing. The creature was. Chris realized pretty damn fast that that thing had just walked through the hull.

 

Chris also could feel a tug in that direction underneath his sternum. Like a connection trying to form, but it wasn't quite there. As it hovered there it seemed to be in a constant state of flux, never choosing one position. Tendrils elongated and shortened, plasma dripping upwards, yet it never strayed far.

 

"All stations, hold position." Una called, snapping immediately into command mode as it was clear their Captain was compromised. She reached over to grip Erica's chair before propelling herself off it just enough to come to a hover between the creature and Chris. It seemed to regard her with curiosity that was neither here nor there. Like she, herself was a specimen. It unnerved her.

 

"It's not like we can do anything else." Erica called, but Una ignored her.

 

“Captain, I’m reading interference across all frequencies,” Uhura called from her console, one hand still steadying the officer she’d just pulled down. Her other hand danced across the display, trying to get a lock. “It’s not a transmission—more like… feedback. But there’s no source I can pinpoint.”

 

“Define ‘feedback,’ Lieutenant,” Una said sharply, still bracing herself near the command well.

 

“I can’t,” Uhura replied, frustration edging into her tone. “It’s everywhere and nowhere. The system thinks it’s coming from inside the hull.”

 

The last word seemed to hang in the air.

 

"That…that shouldn't be possible." He breathed. Chris didn't even seem aware that others had spoke. He was so fixated on that creature. Even as he spoke he could swear the golden glow seemed to lean towards him. But that wasn't possible, right?

 

The rest of the bridge seemed to melt away from him and his awkward position. His senses narrowed, tunneling in on this newfound creature.

 

The creature seemed to snap to his voice, jerking around as if it had a head even though one wasn't visible. Not what any of them would call a head, anyway.

 

It floated closer and that warmth from earlier spread throughout Chris' body. Not quite a burn but close enough even if it didn't hurt.

 

Yes. You are the one.

 

However, only Chris made the connection. With a jolt of shock, he realized that those same words had been in a dream of his from a few days ago. The Illyrian colony. One of the beings had said exactly that when they left. The dream came back to him vividly in that moment.

 

The creature turned and left, floating through one of the consoles which threw sparks. The tunnel broke along with his trance.

 

The red alert calmed down after the last tendril of plasma disappeared from view. With that, gravity decided to return to normal and bodies dropped with various startled cries and curses. Chris ended up upside down in the Chair, his legs skyward and draped over the back. Quickly, he righted himself hoping that nobody saw the position but the raised eyebrow from Una told him otherwise. A blush threatened to creep to his cheeks before he quickly masked it.

He’d been too busy trying to not dismember himself landing that he hadn’t noticed Una landing graceful as ever.

 

Consoles flickered as though exhaling with the crew, returning to normal. The red glow faded, leaving the bridge in pale nebular light. For a heartbeat, the ship almost seemed to sigh—metal settling, power realigning. Then a single, sharp crackle sparked across the floor near Pike’s boots.

 

Gold.

 

Fleeting.

 

Did I just imagine that? He wondered.

 

He stared down at it, but it was already gone.

 

Pike exhaled slowly, trying to steady the rush in his chest. The air still shimmered faintly, a trace of gold lingering where the being had passed. For an irrational moment, he thought it was breathing. His own pulse thudded too loud in his ears, matching that faint inner heat under his sternum.

 

He caught Una’s eye across the command well. Whatever she saw in his face made her expression soften, if only for a heartbeat. He straightened, forcing the Captain’s mask back into place.

 

“Let’s get a full diagnostic,” he said, voice even but quiet. “I want every sensor and every power relay checked.”

 

"What the hell was that?!" Exclaimed Erica, draped over the console.

Chapter Text

Christopher Pike ignored his science officer's quiet, "Fascinating."

 

"Alright bridge crew, damage report. Sound off, all stations." Chris said while taking a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. "Helm?"

 

Erica scrambled to slide off the console and right herself in her seat. Her fingers flew across the screen. "Green, but frankly sir— what the hell was that?" She repeated.

 

Pike looked unamused. "Define green."

 

Helm frowned, looking half frustrated. They'd worked together for long enough to know each others quirks. She fought back a sigh. "Engines stable, thrusters responsive, inertial dampeners mostly keeping up…" Erica raised an eyebrow. "Huh, apparently they don't like unwelcome surprises either." She was a bit annoyed at having to list everything by the book, but held her tongue.

 

"Noted. Communications?"

 

Uhura’s fingers moved fast over her console, her voice steady despite the static crackling faintly overhead. “Short-range channels are clear. Long-range is patchy—radiation interference again, I think. I’ll try to reroute through the secondary array. Channels are otherwise free of feedback or interference."

 

"Do it, tactical?" He called out.

 

From off to the side a young ensign replied, "Shields holding steady sir, weapons still warmed but not hot. Should I disengage them?"

 

Chris nodded and the ensign did that. "Good work. Ops?"

 

Una didn’t look up immediately. Her eyes were fixed on her readings, the faint glow of her console catching in her hair. The calm in her posture was something he’d come to rely on—the quiet certainty that steadied his own pulse more than he’d ever admit. Chris also envied her for that. She seemed to always recover quickly from an event like this.

 

“Power fluctuations in the secondary grid,” she reported, her tone clipped but sure. “I’m rerouting through the EPS manifold. Warp core output steady at ninety-eight percent.”

 

He watched her for a heartbeat longer than protocol allowed before forcing his eyes back to the main viewer. “Copy that,” he said, his voice gentler than it should’ve been. He was almost reluctant to move on.

 

"Science?"

 

Spock seemed uneasy. "Sensors are functioning within nominal parameters. However, I am picking up residual energy fluctuations from within the bridge itself."

 

"Remnants?"

 

The Vulcan tilted his head."That is one possible answer."

 

"Noted." Chris responded with a slight frown, crossing his arms.

 

An idea showed up, half instinct, half memory.

 

"Computer," He said and it responded with a chime. “Could that have been one of the un-bioengineered Illyrian colonists from Hetemit IX?”

 

"Working…" Came the response. Meanwhile, Una whipped around in her chair, almost looking offended at the question. The movement came sharper than she had intended.

 

"Chris…" She intoned, her voice close to an edge. It was as though his question threatened to reopen that old wound. He could've just asked her. She doubted there were any of her kind out here, let alone one from Hetemit IX.

 

The computer chimed above. "That was not an Illyrian colonist from Hetemit IX."

 

Then what the hell was that?

 

The bridge stayed still, everyone waiting for something else to happen. Nothing did. The hum of the deck returned to its usual low vibration, steady and indifferent.

 

A soft chime from the chronometer cut through the silence—shift’s end, punctual as ever. Pike blinked at it, a reminder that the ship didn’t care what they’d just witnessed. Routine pressed forward.

 

He pushed himself to his feet. “Good work today,” he said quietly as crewmembers stood and left, replaced by beta shift members. “Beta shift, continue diagnostics on Spock’s readings. I want a full report by morning.”

 

The crew filtered out in ones and twos, voices low, glances uneasy. Una lingered, her expression unreadable until she finally rose and followed the others.

 

When the doors closed, Pike stayed where he was, watching the golden shimmer outside the viewscreen fade into the nebula’s depths. Whatever had moved through them left no mark. There was a feeling that something, somewhere, had noticed him back. The hairs on his arms stood as he exhaled and pushed himself up from the chair. The hum of the ship felt louder now, closer. He caught up to Una by the turbolift; the others had already gone. She glanced at him as the doors slid shut, a brief look that said more than either of them did aloud.

 

The turbolift doors slid shut.

 

Christopher knew what was coming and braced himself. Even if Una was about to chew him out for whatever just happened at least he had date night to look forward to tonight with her. Provided the tension didn't extend that long into the evening.

 

One….two…. He counted. He got to seven before Una finally spoke.

 

"Turbolift, pause." The lift came to a stop and silence reigned for a heartbeat. "Chris, what the hell was that?" She asked, her voice incredulous. “You froze, Chris. You never freeze.”

 

He exhaled slowly, hands braced on his hips. “I didn’t freeze. I…hesitated.”

 

“There’s a difference of about two seconds between those words, and out here that’s a lifetime.”

 

Chris held her gaze, noticing the worry in her eyes. Here, behind closed doors, it spread to the rest of her face. Chris knew that she was right. He was already grilling himself for the hesitation, but she hadn't felt what he had in that moment. The pull…the physical heat beneath his skin making even his uniform seem unbearable.

 

Her voice dropped with a faint sigh that he wondered whether it was imagination. "You scared me."

 

"I know, it won't happen again."

 

Una looked unamused with the response. "That's not an answer and you know it. No more hiding. What did you feel?"

 

Chris paused, trying to formulate just that and decide whether to fully tell her or not. He chided himself. Relationships were built on the foundation of trust. To hide something like this from his First Officer, from his partner, it didn't feel right any longer.

 

Una waited patiently as she watched a few of his false starts. She could practically see the gears turning in his head.

 

“Like it saw me,” he admitted, fumbling a little with his words. “Like I was standing under a spotlight and didn’t know who turned it on.”

 

Una's brow furrowed. "Like it saw you? Do you think it was conscious, let alone sentient?" She asked.

 

Her Captain shook his head. "I don't know. We all heard it speak, which leads me to believe it is. It didn't feel…hostile. Curious, perhaps, not hostile." He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the phantom warmth still tingle under his skin. "It felt like it wanted to understand me…" He paused. "Or maybe it already did."

 

The silence that followed was thicker than the recycled air around them. In the stillness, the ship’s hum filled the space between them, steady and indifferent.

 

Una stepped forward, breaching the small distance between them. "You should tell M'Benga."

 

"I will." He said, although neither of them believed it. On the other hand the man did owe him a hypospray or two.

 

She studied him a moment longer, the kind of scrutiny that had undone lesser officers. Then, instead of pressing, she sighed and shook her head. “You’re impossible, you know that?"

 

Pike chuckled. "Part of my charm."

 

Una resumed the turbolift and it hummed to life, louder than the cadence of the ship. Not long after it came to a halt and the doors hissed open. She and him walked out into the corridor, crewmen parting around them.

 

Soon enough they stood face to face outside Chris' quarters.

 

Pike looked sheepish, wincing a little. "Despite everything, we're still on for date night, right?" He pressed. They'd planned it a few nights ago after both of their shifts. "You're lucky I already replicated the wine."

 

Una sighed and shook her head, half in exasperation and half in amusement. "You. Are. Ridiculous. Yes, of course we're still on for date night you knucklehead." They stood in front of his quarters.

 

Una made a quick, cursory glance of the corridor. Good, they were alone. She was within reach and stood up on her toes to plant a quick kiss against his forehead. "I'll see you tonight."

 

~

 

Eventually Chris did head back to sickbay once Una left. M'Benga treated him as friendly as ever and handed over the hyposprays that would help him sleep with a quick explanation. He then headed back, thankfully coming across nobody else as Beta shift was in full swing.

 

Even the sickbay trip couldn't dampen Chris' chipper mood.

 

It was date night, after all.

 

The doors hissed open and he walked through, visibly relaxing for the first time that day. He dropped the sprays off on one of his nightstands. Chris didn't bother changing. His uniform smelled faintly of the bridge — all ozone and recycled air.

 

It smelled of home.

 

Of where he belonged.

 

There weren't many smells to elicit such a response from him. Fresh Montana mountain air, Archer's stable, Una's shampoo.

 

Marie's soap.

 

The thought came unbidden and startling. Hadn't he been doing this for her a few months ago? Was he moving on too fast?

 

Thoughts threatened to spiral so he decided to walk back to the kitchen to distract himself. It was still a few hours out, but he could at least do some prep work in the meantime. That, he knew, would come later in the quiet parts of the evening when he settled down after Una left.

 

Some people loved giving and getting gifts for others other people enjoyed physical intimacy with their partner. Christopher Pike loved cooking for his.

 

Chris also knew in part he was stress cooking, but at the moment he could care less. They needed to eat something for date night anyway.

 

Something special.

 

It smelled of home. Of where he belonged.

 

The only other comforting thing to him would be the smell of fresh Montana mountain air, or Archer's stable, or even Una's scent.

 

Chris walked over to his shelves, pulling out an ancient looking tome. It was a family recipe book. Reverently he thumbed through the yellowed pages as he walked back to the kitchen, picking two. He meandered back, lost in thoughts and recipes.

 

The smell of fresh veggies hit him as he pulled them out of the replicator. He hated using the replicated stuff, but it was so hard to find fresh food out here in the boondocks. Chris figured the meat could wait for now. carbonara came together pretty quickly along with the venison side dish he had planned.

 

He loved cooking. It grounded him and let him decompress after a long or particularly stressful shift. He lost himself in the prep work, dicing, slicing, or mincing. Soon enough the hours whiled away.

 

When most of the prep work was done he took quick break. He turned to the small hydroponic grower tucked against the far wall. It hissed softly as it rose from the floor — his little rebellion against starship efficiency. A smile ghosted across his face as he plucked a handful of strawberries from the vines. He'd only recently started growing strawberries after finding out from La'an that she loved them. Bowl in hand, he picked a few of the ripest he could find before letting the device sink back into the floor. He set them on the counter in a spot she would see when she first walked in. Not quite a bouquet, but better since you could eat them.

 

He shifted them so the bowl faced the door and meandered back to the cutting board. Chris was finishing up the prep work when the door chimed.

 

"Come in!" He called automatically, knowing it would be Una.

 

Una strode in wearing civilian clothes that were comfortable looking. Softer than her usual crisp uniform, but something she could actually relax in. "It already smells good in here…is that thyme?" She asked. The sudden sound made him jump, his knife grazing a finger.

 

"Dammit, Number One. Don't you know better than to startle someone with a knife?" His tone was fond, teasing.

 

"Then you should work on your situational awareness, Captain." Una replied teasingly. She crossed the space in two strides.

 

Before he could wash it she gently took his finger, looking down at the cut.

 

"I've had worse." Chris argues in response, pulling away to wash it out. He winced a little as the stream of water hit it. "There's a medkit in the pantry." He said. Una crossed the distance again to go and grab it and bring it back. With deft hands she opened it, rummaging around for what she needed. She pulled out the small dermal regenerator and held it over Chris' cut, turning it on. Within a few seconds the cut was closed.

 

"There," She said, satisfied.

 

Then, with the faintest smile, she leaned down and brushed a quick kiss over the healed spot. “All better.”

 

The kiss was so soft he almost missed it, a fleeting brush of warmth against skin that hadn’t felt something that gentle in far too long.

 

For a moment, time didn’t move. The hum of the ship, the faint hiss of the stove, even the recycled air felt distant — like the universe had given them a pocket of stillness just for this.

 

Una’s hand lingered on his, thumb brushing the place where the cut had been.

 

"You didn't have to do that." Chris said half smiling.

 

“I know,” she replied. “I wanted to, but you never let anyone take care of you.”

 

He laughed under his breath, a low sound more fond than amused. “Guess I’ll have to work on that.”

 

"Good thing you have me now." She teased, tapping a finger on his nose teasingly.

 

"What would I do without you?" He chuckled, warmth curling around his tone. He turned to finish up what little prep work he had left.

 

"Probably bleed out over dinner." Una teased with a chuckle of equal warmth.

 

"I would never create such a biohazard." Chris huffed indignantly. He turned around with his back to Una as she sat down. He opened one of the cupboard doors, grabbing a cast iron. Before he turned back round, he went over to the oven and preheated it.

 

Pike turned back around and set it on the stove, ready for the meat. He turned back for a large pot now that was big enough for pasta. That went on a second burner.

 

Una noticed the bowl of strawberries and lit up at his thoughtfulness. "Mm, my favorite." She said, choosing one and plucking it into her mouth.

 

Chris wore a gentle sort of smile as he watched. "I know, a little birdie told me."

 

"La'an?"

 

He winked. "A chef never gives up his secrets."

 

"It was La'an wasn't it?"

 

"Who says I didn't read it in your file?" He replied innocently, giving her those big ol puppy eyes.

 

Una laughed and rolled her eyes.

 

Chris walked over to the replicator, knowing his choice of meat may raise an eyebrow or two. "Two venison steaks, raw." It chimed a few second later and he pulled it out.

 

He pulled the plate out and turned around again to be met with a raised eyebrow he had predicted.

 

"Venison?" She asked incredulously.

 

"I thought it might be nice to do something special tonight." He shrugged. "Ever had it?"

 

Una shook her head. Her brunette hair swished like a dark cloak around her face. "I can't say I have. "If this goes horribly wrong… I’m blaming the radiation interference." Chris said with a half smile.

 

"Then you're in for a treat." He said happily as he set the plate down. Before he started grinding the juniper he re-washing his hands and went over to the stove and turned it on, adding a pat or two of butter to the pan. He pulled out his mortar and pestle from the cubboard and started grinding peppercorn and the juniper berries as Una munched on his strawberries.

 

"Mmm that smells amazing." She said as she watched him add in the thyme from earlier and a little salt.

 

"Hopefully it'll be even more amazing with dinner." He winked. Chris then moved to the tenderloins, taking bits of the fragrant mixture and pressing it into all sides of the steaks to form a crust. No bit was left uncovered by the mixture.

 

Once the pan was ripping hot he set the steaks in carefully, angling them away from himself, but also Una.

 

The sizzle filled the room, rich and sharp. Butter foamed and browned, releasing a nutty sweetness that mixed with juniper and thyme.

 

“You know,” Una said, “you could probably retire and open a restaurant somewhere.”

 

“What, and miss all this excitement?” he replied, half-laughing.

 

Una got up and went over to where she knew he kept his good wines and chose a bottle and two glasses. She walked back over and sat down. Without pause Chris handed her his towel he'd thrown over his shoulder and she used it to pop the cork. Una then poured them each a glass and reached over with his and set it down on the counter.

 

It struck him how natural this felt—her in his quarters, the smell of food and laughter instead of metal and ozone. For the first time in weeks, the weight in his chest eased.

 

While the steaks sizzled and filled the room with their mouth-watering aroma he went back to the replicator, ordering the other ingredients for carbonara. Eggs, Parmesan, pasta, pancetta. It was a pretty simple dish, but the execution was what mattered.

 

"Are you sure this isn't too much work?" Una asked while she watched him.

 

"Nah, this would never be too much work if I did it for you." He said, blushing a little. Steam rose up from the sizzling steaks, cupping his face almost. It reflected the soft lighting from above, the fireplace, but also the golden glow of Azura-9.

 

For a man who held so much, it was odd to Una to see him almost at peace here, working away in his kitchen.

 

With that, Chris flipped the steaks and another, fresh surge of sizzling overtook them. He wasn't fully cooking them through as that was for the oven. Speaking of, it just beeped, pronouncing it was ready for the star attraction.

 

A flicker of light rippled across the viewport. He glanced up, thinking it was a reflection from the pan, but the shimmer lingered a heartbeat longer than it should have before fading.

 

After a short while he killed the heat and moved the steaks to the oven, setting the timer.

 

Now it was time for the carbonara.

 

The easy bit.

 

Una watched him move — deliberate, confident, utterly in his element. For all the talk of captains and command, she’d never seen him more at ease than here, sleeves rolled, eyes bright with focus.

 

Chris brushed past her to grab the pasta, and she caught the faint scent of smoke and soap on his uniform. It wasn’t cologne; it was just him.

 

He placed the package beside the stove as he went to fill the pot with water. He put that back and dug around for another pan for the pancetta. Finding it, he sat it beside the pot and salted the water for the pasta and turned on the burner again for both pot and pan.

 

If this goes horribly wrong,” he said, reaching for the eggs, “I’m blaming the radiation interference.”

 

“You’d blame subspace distortion for overcooked pasta?”

 

“Absolutely. It’s been ruining my life all week.” He joked as he waited for both the pan to heat up and the water to boil. While he waited he diced the pancetta up, tossing it in with a crackle and a sizzle that made Una smile. The entire room's scent shifted to that of pork, sweet and savory after the gaminess of the venison that still lingered in the background.

 

Soon enough the water boiled and he threw in the pasta, stirring each every so often.

 

"You ever stop moving, Chris?" Asked Una as she took a sip of the dark red wine.

 

Taking the hint he also took a swig of his, even reaching over for a playful tap. Not a true toast, but who cared?

 

"Only when the universe lets me."

 

Soon enough he was pulling some of the pasta water with a ladle into a measuring cup.

 

The pancetta was done.

 

He then placed the pasta right from the boiling water into a bowl he had waiting that he would serve from.

 

Now it was the tricky part.

 

Chris reached for the eggs, cracking them one by one into the bowl. The sound was soft, steady — almost hypnotic. He whisked them with practiced precision until the yolks turned smooth and frothy, a motion that seemed to quiet the air around him.

 

He then added the grated cheese and Una watched mesmerized as he whisked that together.

 

"You're trusting me with not having this break?" He chuckled lowly as he worked.

 

"Hey, you're the one who invited a fellow command officer. I'd help if I could but I'd burn it." She replied.

 

"Hah. Now comes the fun part." He said as he moved the pancetta and its drippings over to the bowl, dumping it in. He set the pan back on the stovetop and reached for the egg mixture. Tossing quickly with a pair of tongs in one hand and the bowl in the other he added the mixture to the pasta until everything was nicely combined. He adjusted the salt and pepper just as the oven beeped. It seemed he didn't need the extra water so he dumped the cup out and put that in the sink.

 

Chris then fumbled around for an oven mitt. He'd already been cut that, he didn't need to be burned too. He took the steak out and checked the temp and it was perfect so he turned off the oven.

 

Chris then took the tray over and placed a steak on the two plates at the table. He brought the pan back and set it on the counter and brought over the pasta bowl with the tongs.

 

Una reached over for his wine glass. She got up and joined him and sat it down on his side. She sat down at the tall table as he was serving her the pasta and as she set his glass down their hands touched for a brief second. The two's eyes met and each had a soft smile for the other.

 

Chris withdrew reluctantly to go put the bowl on the counter. He came back not long after.

 

"Dinner, is served." He said with a playful bow. The table had already been set when he'd been waiting for her to show up.

 

"This looks amazing." She softly exclaimed as he sat down and they both set to eating.

 

~

 

Dinner passed in easy rhythm, full of soft laughter and easy conversation that filled the quiet corners of the room. Before either of them realized it, the meal was gone, the candles burned low, and the hum of the ship had crept back into the silence.

 

Una lingered by the door, her wine-dark sweater catching the faint glow of Azura-9 through the viewport. “You’ll get some rest?” she asked, her voice soft.

 

“I’ll try,” he said, though they both knew he wouldn’t even with the hyposprays from sickbay. He fretted they would only make the nightmares that much harder to wake up from.

 

She stepped closer. The space between them closed in a heartbeat — not command and captain now, just two people holding the same quiet. Her hand came up, fingers brushing his jaw before she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

 

It was brief, but the warmth of it stayed.

 

“Goodnight, Chris.”

 

He smiled, small and tired. “Goodnight, Number One.”

 

When the doors slid shut behind her, the air shifted as though the room had exhaled with her. The faint hum of the ship filled the silence she left behind, steady and familiar, and yet… something underneath it lingered.

 

The silence felt thicker now that she was gone — not peace, but something waiting to move. Anticipation. The warmth of her kiss lingered as he walked over to pour himself a small glass of brandy. He wasn't the type to overindulge, but perhaps the brandy would help him settle more so than those hyposprays on his nightstand. It only reminded him of how long these restless nights could be.

 

Chris set the glass down to return his family's cookbook to its spot on the shelf. He returned for the glass and a PADD he had left in the corner of his counter.

 

"Computer, lights, 20%." He ordered the computer and it obliged. On his way to the couch and coffee table next to his windows he turned on the fireplace, flames crackling to life. He took a sip of the brandy as he sat down, letting it burn down his throat, but the warmth didn't stay. It never did.

 

With a sigh he started working on some of the reports, already missing Una's presence. He found himself finding it difficult to focus. He leaned back on the couch, PADD in hand, but the words blurred and not from the alcohol. He read the same line three times over before giving up. He put the PADD on the coffee table, feeling like the silence was listening to his unease.

 

A shimmer passed over the glass of his viewports, faint and golden. With a frown he blinked and it was gone. The reflection of the firelight stretched strangely across the floor of his quarters, bending like a heat haze. Chris told himself it was just the exhaustion of the day, but it felt more than that.

 

Pike thought of Una's touch again, the simple warmth of it. It grounded him for a heartbeat and then like the burn of his brandy, slipped away. He hadn't realized he was still holding the delicate glass and set it down with a tink.

 

He frowned when the lights seemed to dim a little more, maybe 5%.

 

It was enough that Chris sat up, looking confused. That's weird…I never gave the computer orders to turn the lights even dimmer… He thought to himself.

 

Gold flickered at the edges of his vision, delicate yet intruding. He saw another flash of it across his viewports. Chris felt the warmth before he saw it, a gentle pressure against his sternum like he was standing too close to his fire.

 

His first instinct was to stand, maybe have the computer call for M'Benga or La'an. something in the air told him to wait. Fear wasn't the right word, perhaps recognition or curiosity was closer. The same pull from the nebula threaded through his entire being. It was stronger this time, almost as intense as it was on the bridge. It seemed more as he winced as it ached enough to be painful.

 

The shimmer returned again, leaking through the panes. A soft spiral of gold and blue and white unfurled from the viewports, moving like a thought given form. He gawked at the sight as it moved fluidly through the glass, down the couch and seemed to stand at the end of the coffee table, between him and the fire.

 

At this Christopher Pike stood abruptly. Instinctively he moved for his phaser at his hip even though it wasn't there. He walked over, fear and awe both playing for dominance on his face.

 

It didn't advance. It loomed over him by a good foot or so, but it didn't advance. The only thing that seemed to move was the tendrils of energy, constantly shifting, constantly dancing through the air. The top part of it seemed to track his position like a humanoid with a head might.

 

You are the one. It rumbled deeply, sounding as though it spoke with multitudes yet it was one single voice. The sound reverberated through him, not heard but felt — a resonance in his bones, a vibration that trembled in the air itself.

 

"You said that on the bridge — if that was you…" Christopher Pike replied. He didn't get the feeling that this creature meant harm. If anything that tug was at its zenith, burning through him with an almost physical yearning. The warmth spread deeper, centering in his chest where the ache had begun on the bridge.

 

"What do you want?"

 

He took a step closer without realizing it. The air around him thrummed like starlight caught in motion.

 

The Elari’s light flickered, dimmed, and then pulsed in slow rhythm. When it spoke again, its voice seemed layered—one tone woven through another, like starlight echoing through a canyon.

 

Help.

 

The forgotten brandy glass caught the shimmer, scattering it in amber shards across the table.

 

"With what?" He asked, crossing his arms. Instinctually, Pike wanted to help. He needed to know what with, first.

 

The tendrils of light swayed, a slow, mournful motion.

 

The twin fires you name white dwarves… they devour the cradle that once held us. We are the Elari—born of light, sustained by it. But their dying brilliance has turned against us. What once gave us life now unravels us.

 

Pike’s throat tightened. “You live in the nebula.”

 

We did. Our home, Aurelith, lies buried in its heart. When the stars began to die, we changed. We became light so we could endure. But now the storm poisons the song that shapes us. We cannot form new life. We fade.

 

A thin arm of energy reached toward his control console, stopping just short of it. The gesture felt less invasive now—almost pleading.

 

Two sparks remain—progenitors of what we were, what we might be. But they cannot be born in the fire that destroyed us.

 

The voice grew softer, a harmonic whisper that brushed against his pulse.

 

They must pass through another form—one that endures both flesh and flame. One that can bear light without breaking. You, Christopher Pike, are that form.

 

The awe overtakes fear; his rational mind gives way to an almost spiritual understanding.

 

He recognizes the tone of the Elari’s voice . Not domination, but need.

 

“Your species is dying,” he murmurs, more to himself than to them. “And you think I can save you.” He’s not a man who prays often anymore, but the moment feels close to prayer.

 

Yes. It said as it hovered an arm's reach away in front of him. His arms remained crossed. It would carry out similar to however your species carries its young. It explained, still talking with the voioce of multitudes.

 

“You’re asking me to—” he started, but the words died in his throat. The idea felt impossible and yet, somehow, already true. He wanted to laugh, to reject it outright. But laughter wouldn’t come. The ache in his chest was back. Steady, alive, undeniable. Part of him wanted to ask why me? But deep down, he already knew: the pull, the resonance, the way the nebula had watched him.

 

You would not be harmed, it said, harmonics sinking lower. You are built to endure. Balanced between energy and matter. Through you, life can cross from what was to what will be.

 

Chris almost snorted. Even now, pregnancy carried risks and he was a man. Why him, and not someone like Una?

 

The answer in its tone wasn’t manipulation. It was sorrow.

 

Breathing shallowly he said, “You said you needed help,” He murmured. “This… this isn’t help. It’s trust.”

 

The Elari pulsed faintly at that, as though recognizing the word.

 

“If I let you do this,” he said, voice unsteady, “you’ll have to promise me something—that they’ll live.”

 

The answer came not in sound, but in warmth that flooded the space between them, a quiet vow spoken in light. We cannot make such a prommise, but they will be protected once they return to us.

 

He exhaled shakily, the kind of sound that feels half like surrender and half defiance. “You’re asking me to risk my life for a promise you can’t make.” He told it as he watched it shimmer and dance before him.

 

We ask you to trust what life does not guarantee. The Elari’s reply hums through the air like distant thunder.

 

He thought of the faces of his crew, the lives he’d sworn to protect. Captain Christopher Pike wondered how this whatever this is became his next command decision.

 

Chris looked up at the creature. Its light flickering like breath. He felt something he can’t name: purpose, maybe, or inevitability.

 

“You chose me for a reason,” he says, quieter now.

 

“Because you carry both light and gravity. It answered. You stand where the two meet. You also seem to care for others when they cannot. We will not do this if you do not want it.

 

Pike took a deep breath, trying to steady his shallow breathing. He straightened, his arms still crossed as if to hide the tremor in his hands. His hands finally seemed to still buried in his armpits. "Alright, let's do this. Let's not waste any more time debating with each other."

 

Then, we begin.

 

The Elari’s form brightened, gold and blue threads swirling faster, coalescing into a single, luminous shape. The air grew warmer, pressing gently against his skin.

 

His heart beat once, twice.

 

The light seemed to answer.

 

We must become one for them to live.

 

The concept seemed to foreign to Chris that he stiffened. Steeling himself and tensing physically, he nodded.

 

The light around the Elari collapsed inward, spiraling toward him in ribbons that pass through his body, not around it.

 

Chris gasped as warmth flooded his chest, spreading outward like sunlight through ice. It intensified, growing to a burn. A burn stronger than any glass of whisky, brandy, or any other hard liquor could ever deliver. His senses fracture. Sight blurs, sound distorts. Until all that’s left is vibration and light. Each pulse of the Elari’s energy threads deeper into him, not consuming, but intertwining. Nerve, spark, thought, breath. He saw flashes of memory that aren’t his: oceans of plasma, cities of light, a planet burning beneath twin white stars. He felt infinitely small, yet intristically whole at the same time.

 

His heart stuttered. The Elari’s voice, now inside him, whispered a single phrase: Two within. One to carry.

 

The light flares once, engulfing him completely, and the world vanishes in a silent explosion of gold. The burn engulfed him, giving him the sensation of what it must be like to be on fire.

 

In that blaze came a flash of his own memory.

 

The charred remains of his future self, confined to the chair, skin ravaged by flame. The horror of it lanced through him, but only for a moment. The vision burned away as quickly as it came, devoured by the golden fire that roared around him.

 

For an instant, he didn’t know if he was burning, dissolving, or becoming something else entirely.

 

His quarters spun.

 

Christopher Pike tried to steady himself on the way down, catching the edge of his coffee table. His hand smashed against the glass of brandy he’d been nursing; it tipped, shattered, and something hot spilled across his skin.

 

Liquid and blood.

 

It hurt like hell.

 

As if his body wasn't already on fire.

 

The last thing he registered was the brandy spreading like amber fire across the floor and the computer’s calm voice cutting through the chaos.

 

“Gold alert, Captain’s quarters. Gold alert.”

 

Everything went black.

Chapter Text

Una walked into her quarters as happy as she'd ever been. The lights came on as she entered through the doors with a soft hiss.

 

Was I too personal? The thought came in quietly as she wandered over to her personal bathroom with the intentions of taking a shower. It may have been date night but she was well aware he was still mourning Marie. Still, the memory of his laugh, the easy warmth of dinner, lingered in her chest like a steady hum.

 

No, Chris would've told her.

 

She undressed, folding her clothes with practiced precision before stepping into the shower. Hot water struck her skin, washing away the day’s tension but not the memory of his smile.

 

Una washed, letting the hot water soothe away the day's aches. She got out, steam rising from the shower.

 

It didn't take long for her to dry off with a towel and dress into her night clothes. Just simple Starfleet standard nightwear, nothing fancy. She crossed her quarters over to her bed, grabbing a PADD on the way by. Maybe she could go over some reports or read a good book.

 

The quiet suited her. The ship hummed softly beneath her feet, steady and familiar, and for the first time in a while, she felt like she could breathe. She clambered into bed and pulled the covers up with her free hand.

 

"Computer, dim lights." The lights dimmed.

 

A faint smile crossed her face amid her reading as the brief brush of a hand, the warmth of laughter still lingering came unbidden.Her eyes grew heavy. Una didn’t remember closing her eyes. The PADD slipped against her chest, its light dimming to standby. The hum of the ship in the background, the warmth of her bedding seemed to do the trick.

 

The peace shattered in an instant as her quarters flashed gold and the computer’s calm voice cut through the dark.

 

“Gold alert, Captain’s quarters. Gold alert, Captain’s quarters.”

 

The volume of the computer's calm voice. The flash of the gold-red lighting.

 

It startled Una out of the half doze, her body tingling.

 

Number One's body moved before her mind caught up. Her PADD clattered to the floor noisily as she bolted upright. Throwing back the covers she shot up, uncaring that she was bare footed and in nightclothes.

 

Chris was in trouble.

 

That was all that mattered.

 

Una was out the door by the second repetition of the alert, bolting down the corridor back to Chris' quarters. The doors hissed behind her, shutting off the lighting flickering with the gold alert pulse, painting her walls in alternating bands of amber and shadow.

 

As the doors sealed behind her, the sound of her bare feet hit the deck hard, each soft slap echoing down the empty corridor. Outside her quarters, the lighting was normal—soft and dim, Gamma shift calm. The moment she burst out, the sudden contrast makes it feel like the rest of the ship is oblivious to the crisis.

 

Crewmen and yeomen paused to gawk at her running by. "Gold alert," Una could almost still hear the computer's calm voice intoning the alert. Her mind raced through possibilities — fainting, an attack, the nebula’s interference — and none felt right.

 

She nearly crashed into a young lieutenant in the dim corridor, the impact jolting her out of her own head for a split second. His startled stammering “Ma’am?” barely registered. Her only answer was a breathless, “Move!” She barked as she skidded around the corner, feet squeaking against the immaculate floors. The lieutenant scampered out of the way, pressing to the wall as she recovered and took off, annoyed with the delay.

 

Una became all too aware of her breathing coming much too fast as adrenaline coursed through her, cutting through the last traces of sleep. It didn't matter, not with Chris' life potentially on the line.

 

The doors hissed open to chaos.

 

A glass lay shattered near the couch, brandy spreading across the floor, catching the flicker of the still-active fireplace. The smell of juniper and pancetta hung thick in the air—comfort turned cloying.

 

Chris was down beside his coffee table, one hand bloodied, skin flushed and glistening with sweat. His breathing was shallow, uneven.

 

The air hummed faintly, static crawling along the edges of the metal table.

 

Was it her imagination or did a golden light seem to dance faintly beneath his skin? Like starlight trapped under water?

 

“Oh, Chris…” she breathed, already rushing toward him.

 

Una didn’t wait for medics. She dropped to her knees, hands on his face, feeling the unnatural heat under her palms.

 

Her mind tore through every detail of the evening, searching for something—anything—out of place. No, he’d been his usual self. Stubborn, busybody Chris. Always taking on more than he should.

 

What could've caused him to collapse so suddenly?

 

Could it have been the exhaustion she'd noticed lately?

 

Why hadn't she noticed it? She should've paid more attention to him.

 

The thoughts raced through her mind as she checked a pulse. The XO breathed a sigh of relief when she found one, but it was faint and racing much too fast. His skin burned against her fingers so different than before. That weird lighting didn't come from the fireplace, she realized as she had the computer shut it off. It was inside Chris. Horror coursed through her, wondering what the ever living hell had happened.

 

Una realized with a startle that the alert was still droning on and she cancelled it, but also had the computer open a channel to sickbay too. "Medical emergency, Captain's quarters." As if that wasn't obvious already, but it was protocol. "He's unresponsive, but has a pulse although it's fast and faint. He's burning up. I'm bringing him in myself."

 

"Affirmative, commander. Time is critical, Commander. We'll be ready for Chris when you bring him in." Came M'Benga's voice.

 

"Copy that, Una out."

 

Una Chin-Riley lifted him. She scooped her arms under his back and legs, using her Illyrian strength. She righted with her knees rather than her own back and carried him out bridal-style as crew part in stunned silence.

 

~

 

The bridge lights shifted, pulsing between gold and red.

 

“Gold alert, Captain’s quarters. Gold alert.”

 

Every console stilled. The quiet that followed was sharper than the alarm itself.

 

Erica shot to her feet. “Shit!” she hissed, already halfway to the turbolift.

 

Spock’s hand caught her arm before she could move further. His tone was calm, but firm. “Lieutenant, you are needed here. Doctor M’Benga and Commander Chin-Riley will attend to the captain.”

 

“Always when I’m in the chair,” Erica muttered, jaw tightening. "Always!"For a second she looked like she might kick the chair just to make a point. She only glared at it instead and spun back to helm.

 

“Status updates every thirty seconds,” Spock ordered the computer, already turning toward his console.

 

"Confirmed." Came its smooth and calm tone.

 

The hum of the bridge resumed, taut and brittle.

 

~

 

"You’re fine. You’re going to be fine. That’s an order, Chris.” Una muttered as she walked the hallways to sickbay. She couldn’t tell anymore if she was thinking the words or speaking them. The corridor blurred. Faces turned. She was aware of stares and the quiet horror that followed her down the passage as gamma shift realized something had happened to their captain.

 

Her legs moved without thought. The weight in her arms grew heavier with every step. Was sickbay really this far? It couldn’t be. She had walked these halls thousands of times, yet now each meter felt longer than the last. The ship felt unfamiliar, hostile in its silence.

 

Farther down the hall, officers stood at attention. Ramrod straight, hands clasped behind their backs, feet set shoulder-width apart—a living honor guard.

 

The corridor had become a chapel. Every step an act of worship, every breath a plea.

 

She could feel their eyes like lights on her back, hundreds of silent witnesses holding vigil.

 

If it weren’t for the panic hammering through her chest she might have been moved to tears. But the salutes were not for her.

 

They were for the man in her arms.

 

Their captain.

 

No one spoke except her. The mantra kept her moving. The weight of it all pressed down—respect, fear, grief, every breath of it heavy in her lungs.

 

The young lieutenant she’d collided with earlier stood among them now, chin lifted, eyes wide, trembling.

 

Una moved toward sickbay like a marionette on strings. Rushed but not running. Not with Chris limp against her shoulder. Her stride stayed even though her hands shook. She saw faces filled with concern, heard the hush thickening behind her, but none of it registered. The world narrowed to the sound of her own breath and the dull thud of her heart.

 

“You’re fine, you stupid idiot." One foot forward.

 

"You’re going to be fine.” Another step forward.

 

The words cracked. They weren’t orders anymore.

 

They were a prayer.

 

"You have to be."

 

The ship went silent around her. It felt like a walk of honor through still air. Even the engines seemed to hold their breath.

 

“Commander?”

 

The word rippled through the corridor, muffled, unreal. Someone stepped forward; she saw the motion but not the face. They froze, afraid to touch the captain, afraid to touch her. The hesitation gutted her more than the weight she carried. She kept walking.

 

Her body didn’t falter. It never did. That was almost worse. The ship could break before she did, and still she’d be the one holding him. Every breath hitched against the weight of him. She adjusted her grip, teeth clenched against panic.

 

Finally, sickbay came into view. For a moment she thought she might not make it. “You’re going to be alright, Chris,” she whispered, half-breath, half-plea.

 

Even now Chin-Riley could still hear the computer intoning, "Gold alert." The flash of gold behind her eyes.

 

A flash of movement before she turned into sickbay— a yeoman stepping back, hand over her mouth. Una didn’t slow. She couldn’t.

 

It felt like it had taken forever to reach it, yet no time at all. The doors parted. Sound returned in a rushed wave—monitors, voices, orders—and she stumbled through the threshold as the stillness shattered.

 

M’Benga and Chapel were waiting, their faces drawn tight with worry.

 

“Bring him to the biobed,” Joseph said, voice steady but his eyes anything but.

 

Una nodded and closed the distance in easy strides despite her arms burning. They could burn from here to eternity and she would still carry him. However, her knees nearly buckled when she gently laid him down — as soft as she could —. Only when his weight left her arms did she realize how badly they were trembling.

 

There came a communication ping over the PA. "Ortegas to sickbay, how is he doc?" Came her worried voice.

 

"It's too early to tell, but we'll provide you with updates on his status." Joseph responded, working fervently with his scanner and cursing Erica and her timing.

 

"Got it. Ortegas out."

 

The line went dead.

 

The silence that followed felt heavier than the alarm had. Only the monitors broke it, a steady heartbeat that wasn’t hers, while M’Benga and Chapel moved around her and panic rose like heat beneath her skin.

 

Una remained by his side as M'Benga and Christine worked to stabilize him. The biobed blared out an alarm in response to his temperature being so high. The alarm felt too loud and the room felt too small. She focused on Chris with a worried frown, her arms crossing.

 

Christine was typing out on a PADD and Una felt a tinge of annoyance. What a time to be focused on reports! However, within seconds a field sprung up around Chris.

 

"His temperature's rising to unsafe parameters," M'Benga explained. "This is a thermal stasis field, hopefully it will help." He said, watching the vitals up on the screen with a frown.

 

Una nodded, trying to steady her shaking hands.

 

"Temperature's holding at 106." Christine called out, her eyes still on the PADD as she fiddled with the controls.

 

"Anything past 107…" M'Benga trailed off, shaking his head. "Any idea of what could have caused this?" He asked Una who shook her head.

 

"No, he was fine earlier this evening, cooking dinner and everything." Una trusted the two enough to be discreet about their relationship. Joseph nodded as he took in the information. He noticed Chris' temperature dropping by a degree or two. Still not safe, but safer than he was.

 

M'Benga nodded and he left to go get a dermal regenerator to start working on his bleeding hand.

 

Christine raised an eyebrow but valued her life enough to not say anything.

 

"His heart rate is too erratic…" She muttered instead of asking Una about that.

 

"We'll keep an eye on that." M'Benga said.

 

She had given orders under fire and flown through storms that nearly tore hulls apart. But this, standing still while someone she loved fought to keep breathing, was worse. Every sound in the room pressed down on her until even the beeping felt cruel.

 

The blonde quietly handed him the PADD and walked off. Soon enough she came back with a chair and sat it down next to the bed.

 

"Thanks." She said and sat down, dragging it the short distance to his biobed. She noticed the odd light dancing just beneath Chris' skin.

 

"Figured you won't want to leave so there's no point in arguing." She shrugged.

 

The XO settled in for a long night, taking another PADD from M'Benga.

 

~

Hours bled by.

 

By 2300 M'Benga came up to check on her. She looked up when he approached.

 

"You should get up, stretch." He said gently. Reluctantly, Una knew he was right. She nodded and stood.

 

The XO took a breath. "I should check in on the bridge crew."

 

Joseph nodded, knowing that it was healthy for her to switch gears, even momentarily. "I'll let you know if anything happens."

 

"Nothing will." Una deadpanned. She set the PADD down. For the moment she didn't care that she was still barefoot.

 

Number One made her way down the corridor. Being that it was late there weren't many about, but even those she came across stepped aside.

 

By now Una wouldn't be surprised if there were rumors running around. Not after her walk to sickbay.

 

She entered the turbolift and gripped the handle. At the same time she said, "Bridge" and it whirred to life.

 

The ride didn't last long.

 

Soon enough she was standing on the cusp of the bridge, walking on in bare feet. Regardless her back stood straight and her hands grasped behind her. The XO was well aware of how disarrayed she looked, but that was the least of her worries.

 

The air felt colder here, cleaner. Conversations faltered as she stepped forward, bare feet whispering against the deck.

 

"Report." Called Number One.

 

Heads whipped around at the sound of her voice.

 

Silence reigned.

 

"Did I stutter?"

 

The air was thick with unspoken worry.

 

Ortegas turned in the Chair the second she stepped out.

 

“Commander.”

 

“At ease,” Una said, voice even. “Status report.”

 

“All systems green. The nebula’s still quiet.”

 

Una nodded, moving toward the command chair but not sitting. Her gaze lingered on it—on the hollow space it made, too large and too familiar.

 

“He’d hate that you’re up here instead of sleeping,” Erica said quietly, then regretted it immediately.

 

Una's lips twitched. “He’d hate it more if I didn’t check in.”

 

For a moment she stared at the stars. Everything seemed too quiet.

 

"Keep her steady, Lieutenant."

 

"Aye, Commander."

 

"I'll be in sickbay."

 

Una walked back to the turbolift, the lights shifting as she entered it.

 

The doors closed with a final hiss.

 

~

 

Somewhere just before midnight as Una was catching up on reports, she swore she heard Chris stirring.

 

She glanced over, hope flaring in her chest. Chris' eyes were open, but unfocused. He was staring at her.

 

"Una?" A pause. "I'm so cold…" It rasped out like a whisper breathed in an ear. A far cry from the caring, stubborn idiot she'd fallen in love with. Her throat caught at her own name.

 

"It's the thermal stasis field. We found you in a raging fever, it's keeping your te-" She cut off when his eyes closed amidst her explanation.

 

She sighed, wondering if that was a true moment of lucidity or something else.

 

M'Benga walked over, summoned by the heightened brain activity and heart rate.

 

"Do not be too concerned, Una." He said in his deep voice, tinged with sympathy. "He's in and out."

 

As if to make a statement with that Chris muttered something that sounded like, "Two sparks, one to carry." But it didn't make any sense. They shared a look.

 

"Could be the exhaustion, could be the fever." He shrugged with his arms crossed. "Either way, don't assume awareness."

 

Una sighed and rubbed her eyes. They burned and every blink felt heavy as though they begged for sleep. "What time is it?"

 

"2350." M'Benga said, looking over at the head nurse's desk. Christine was there, head drooping against her chest as she dozed in her chair.

 

"You should get some rest." He chided gently and Una shook her head. "I'm fine. I won't leave his side."

 

A soft chuckle and an amused head shake. "No, of course you won't." He rumbled and reached out to rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He squeezed gently. "Even if Starfleet wouldn't approve of it, you are the best thing that's happened to him."

 

“Even better than Marie?” she asked, trying for humor and missing by a mile.

 

M’Benga didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked toward Pike. “Marie would’ve… checked in,” he said finally. “But she wouldn’t have stayed.”

 

Una swallowed hard. “No,” she admitted. “She wouldn’t.”

 

~

 

By the time the ship’s chronometer ticked past 0300, Una had given up on sleep. Sickbay sat dark and quiet as a grave. The only lights came from soft red safety lights, her PADD, the biobed's readout screen above and the stasis field. She sat in the dim light of the adjacent console, cycling through security feeds from the captain’s quarters.

 

The footage flickered over her face: dinner dishes, a half-empty glass, Pike moving across the room. The sudden collapse. No intruder, no surge, nothing she could classify. Just light. It didn't make sense. The cameras wouldn't have activated without the computer sensing a threat.

 

Unless the light was the threat.

 

Oh how she wished the video had audio. It had glitched out right after the light thing phased through the windows.

 

Una watched Chris standing there yet again. The being almost seemed to merge with him physically. One moment it stood there and there seemed to be some agreement between them. The next it leeched into him, tendrils of energy at first before the whole mass just surged forward.

 

The collapse.

 

His body dropped to the floor.

 

Chris' hand tried to catch himself on the coffee table but slipped, knocking into the glass of brandy.

 

Una winced as it shattered and gashed his hand. Guess that explains that.

 

The commander was so focused on rewatching the security clip that she didn't notice their CMO approaching.

 

"Still at it then?"

 

Una nodded "There has to be something I just can't fathom why we don't have audio…Unless the light that came through his window caused some sort of EMP that killed it. The cameras wouldn't have activated if the ship's system hadn't detected a threat. For privacy reasons." She explained, more thinking out loud as she knew he would've known that.

 

M'Benga was about to suggest something when his head suddenly shot up. The audible beeping on the biobed that had been so fast and erratic was suddenly slowing

 

CMO and XO stared at each other, horror dawning on their faces.

 

"He's stabilizing…right?" Hope dared to flutter in Una's chest.

 

"Code blue! Get the Cardiostim!"Joseph's loud and sharp bark jolted the blonde awake. She was on her feet in seconds, the chair rolled away under the force of her shooting up. It slammed into the wall, making Una jump. The biobed screamed a shrill, keening alarm that sliced straight through Una’s chest.

 

Una jumped up, scrambling out of the way as Joseph and Christine rushed over.

 

"O2 stats are dipping, heart rate's dropping." Christine called out.

 

"On my mark," Said Joseph.

 

The biobed’s tone now slipped lower. Then lower still. Until it wasn’t a rhythm anymore, just a warning stretched thin.

 

The two didn't wait.

 

Joseph and Christine were already surging in with the device. Yet it felt like ages for Una. The biobed screamed. It's shrill tone cut into Una's heart like a knife.

 

Chris lay so still…

 

“Clear.”

 

The shock made his body jolt, then settle. The silence afterward was worse. Una’s jaw locked.

 

“Again.”

 

Nothing.

 

"C'mon Chris." Una muttered the words like soft prayer to whatever deity that was listening.

 

“One more.”

 

Please.

 

Don't leave me.

 

"Don't you dare die on me, Chris."

 

Una's breath became shallow. Every muscle in her body trembled from the effort of not falling apart.

 

Then….hope.

 

A single beep cut through the silence. Followed by another. It was erratic, but overall steady. Steadier than it had been.

 

M'Benga breathed a sigh of relief . "He's back."

 

Una’s knees nearly gave, but she forced herself upright. She was the XO; she didn’t get to fall apart, not even here. Still, her hands found Chris’s through the shimmer of the stasis field, needing to feel he was real.

 

She raised her head to look at M'Benga. "There must be something more we can do. You've synthized antidotes before from my blood; I donate regularly."

 

"Commander, we don't even know if his fever is viral." Christine said as she went to put the cardiostim away and came back.

 

"Just…try it. Please. We already know we have the same blood type." Una argued. Christine glanced at M'Benga. M'Benga glanced back at Christine.

 

Finally, "Alright." The CMO said with a resigned sigh. They couldn't afford to lose him again like that.

 

Una watched as he went to go grab a hypospray to take the sample, praying that this would work. He came back and Una barely felt the sting in her shoulder. She watched Joseph walk back to the biobed, pressing the hypospray into the captain's shoulder. It released the blood with a soft hiss.

 

They waited.

 

Three sets of eyes stared at the monitor and its stats. Time seemed to stretch into hours for Una even if it was only minutes.

 

Chris' heart rate steadied.

 

His O2 rose and his temperature dropped.

 

Una puffed out a sigh of relief as Christine turned off the thermal stasis field.

 

Una watched as Chris started awake, his striking grey-green eyes cracking open.

 

"Report." Came the weak and hoarse whisper. It was weak, and maybe disorientated. Definitely terrified.

 

Una could've cried in relief.

 

She laughed once, letting go of his hand but his weak grip remained, refusing to let go. She couldn't bring herself to be the one to release.

 

"You're impossible, that's my report."

 

Chris let out a weak chuckle.

 

He still hadn’t let go of her hand. The faint tremor in his fingers said more than words could. She tightened her grip once, wordless assurance that she was there.

 

“Easy,” M’Benga said gently, checking the readout. “He’s stable. For now.”

 

Una nodded, unable to speak. She’d expected tears. Instead, she only felt the ache in her throat and the burn in her chest, like a release she couldn’t afford yet.

 

"I-I should let the bridge know you're awake. Erica's probably pacing laps by now." She joked.

 

"You left Erica in charge?" Chris asked weakly, mock horror on his face.

 

Una rolled her eyes. "She's capable enough."

 

"Capable enough,” He echoed with amusement, voice fading as his eyes drifted shut again.

 

The monitors hummed their steady rhythm. Una sat there a moment longer, still holding his hand even after sleep reclaimed him.

 

For the first time all night, Una was finally able to take a full breath.

Chapter Text

Chris awoke to Una's voice. It was soft, yet measured as if she didn't want to wake him. Yet it was just the two of them which left him confused. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize that Una was on comms with the bridge crew. By the sounds of it, she was talking to La'an. He didn't know how long he'd been out, but judging by the hunger gnawing incessantly at his stomach it must've been more than a day. It tugged on him that his XO had stayed with him presumably the whole time. At the same time despite his current state, he fretted about both her's and his missed shifts. 

 

The captain blinked against the lights. Too bright. Or maybe his eyes were still closed. Hard to tell. The ceiling seemed to move when he tried to focus. No, he was moving. Maybe both.

 

He rolled his head to the side to watch her. Chris turned his head to watch her and immediately regretted it as dizziness surged through him. She hadn't noticed he had woken up. Una had changed into her uniform at some point while he'd been out again. Her hair was freshly cleaned; he caught the faint scent of her shampoo even from here.

 

Weird. He thought hazily. He couldn’t quite say why it was weird. His mind felt a step behind everything, sluggish and fogged, struggling to catch up.

 

Stars, had she always been that beautiful? The thought drifted in before he could stop it. The overhead lights caught in her hair, turning the pale strands silver where they fell across her shoulder. Her face was half in shadow, the glow of the overhead lights, the rest in soft white. Chris blinked, trying to focus, but the edges blurred; even the light seemed to move a little too slowly, as if the room hadn’t quite caught up with him yet.

 

Hunger hit him next, sharp and wrong. 

 

How long had it been?

 

A day? 

 

More? 

 

The thought slipped away before he could finish it.

 

He noticed the glass with the straw sitting on a small table beside his bed. He was vaguely aware of Una's head snapping his way when he tried to push himself up to sitting, his mouth parched. Chris hadn't wanted to disturb her so his intentions had been on getting it himself. Bracing weakly on one elbow, Chris started to push himself upright.

 

Big mistake.

 

The world tilted on its axis so severely he wondered for a half second whether Enterprise had been struck by a volley.

 

Shit.

 

Perhaps that hadn't been such a good idea. Pike's body lurched as his vision swam, half leaning closer to the edge of the biobed now as he caught himself. The room spun harder with every breath. His mostly-empty stomach roiled at the movement, threatening to empty itself of what little was there. 

 

"Chris…" Una breathed and surged forward to steady him before he could launch himself off the biobed. 

 

Too late.

 

He gagged once, twice, then threw up. All over her uniform.

 

For a moment there was only the awful sound, his mortified groan, and her quiet sigh. Then, against all logic, Una started to laugh. It was not a polite laugh but the kind that comes from pure relief.

 

“Welcome back, Captain,” Una said, shaking her head in amusement as he slumped back, face flushed and miserable. Chris reassured her he was okay, swallowing against the aftershocks. Thankfully now it was just dry heaves. She left and distantly he couldn't hear her talking with Christine.

 

"Don't. Say. Anything." 

 

There were barely contained chuckles as he heard a towel being handed over. Chris swallowed thickly at the sight of her walking back, using the towel to clean up. 

 

"For the record, Captain, if you must decorate, aim for the floor." Una said, but her teasing tone was light. 

 

Definitely on shift. He thought to himself. As if the uniform wasn't a dead giveaway. The one he'd just thrown up on. His cheeks blushed despite himself. 

 

Once his stomach finally settled, "How's Enterprise?" The captain croaked. 

 

Una gave him an exsasperared look as she cleaned herself off with the towel. "You were out for three days and that's the first thing you ask?" She snorted. "She's fine, Chris. You on the other hand, might want to hold off on another mutiny against gravity." Others would've hated him for throwing up on them. Not Una. She seemed to be finding amusement in it. 

 

Chris fell silent. Three days…? He wondered in confusion. 

 

"You woke up in the wee hours the first day, but you went back out for the next two." Una explained. She seemed to remember that he'd been going for the cup and straw containing apple juice. Setting the towel on another biobed she walked back over. Chris watched as he mulled things over as she picked up the cup and held it within reach. 

 

Gratefully, he took a sip and his stomach didn't revolt a second time. It tasted oddly metallic to him and he struggled to not pull a face. As he pulled back he realized how easily Una had said, "three days." 

 

What happened to me?

 

Una set the cup down and settled back in her chair, dragging it closer. "You gave us a scare, Chris." She tried to make it sound casual, but failed.

 

The Captain gave a weak sort of smile. "Wouldn't be the first time."

 

"It seems the captain is awake." Chris turned, wincing as dizziness hit again at Joseph's voice. Thankfully he didn't throw up again. There was amusement in his tone. Out of the corner of his unsteady vision Chris could see Una looking unamused. 

 

"I told Christine to not talk about it." 

 

M'Benga chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I heard voices talking. I wanted to run a few more scans before we discharge him." In one hand he did have a scanner. "One of his scans came back with something anomalous . I wanted to double check the readings." 

 

"Anomalous? How so, doc?" 

 

Anomalous wasn't good. 

 

Joseph frowned subtly as he turned on the scanner. "It showed something in the peritoneal cavity, that space between your stomach, liver and spleen. Could be a false return, however." 

 

Chris pursed his lips in a tight frown. "You don't sound so convinced." 

 

Joseph sighed. "We're on Starfleet's flagship. Scanners don't malfunction for us like they do on others." 

 

"Because we're the best of the best?" Quipped Una wryly. 

 

The CMO chuckled as he ran the scan, hovering the device over Chris’ prone form. “Precisely. But this one’s strange. The sensors picked up faint energy fluctuations — nothing dangerous, but out of place. Between that and the radiation static we’ve been getting from the nebula, the readings are noisy. I’m running a deep-tissue composite through the main medical computer to isolate the signal, and that kind of analysis takes time.”

 

He shrugged lightly. “Better safe than sorry.”

 

"It could take a few days to return." He almost laughed at Chris' despondent look. Chris had assumed that he would remain in sickbay that entire time. He couldn't imagine anything more boring except paperwork. 

 

"Don't worry," He felt Joseph pat his shoulder reassuringly. "I'll release you when you're strong enough. Should be a few hours at most." 

 

M'Benga left them to it. 

 

“Chris,” Una asked quietly, “do you remember anything that happened? You collapsed in your quarters, burning up.”

 

He frowned, eyes unfocused as he tried to summon the memory. All he could find were fragments: heat, pain, and blinding golden light. Everything else was smoke and static.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, shaking his head. “I can’t remember anything.”

 

Una exhaled through her nose, the sound half relief, half worry. “I’ve been going over the security feeds. It looks like…” She hesitated, which was rare for her. “Something came through your bulkhead. A light form. Like the one that appeared on the bridge.”

 

Chris blinked. “It came into my quarters?”

 

She nodded. “You spoke to it briefly. The footage isn’t clear, the sensors couldn’t keep focus, but it merged with you. That’s the only way I can describe it. You collapsed right after. The computer registered your vitals spiking off the charts and triggered a gold alert. By the time I got there, you’d knocked your whiskey glass over and gone completely still.”

 

He stared at her, trying to reconcile her words with the blank in his mind. There was nothing. Just that overwhelming flash of heat and light, and then darkness.

 

"You died Chris." Una said, the most gentle he'd ever heard her speak.

 

“She’s right,” M’Benga called from around the corner, his voice calm but edged with fatigue. “Your temperature spiked high enough to stop your heart. We had to resuscitate you with the cardiostim.”

 

Una nodded, her expression softening just enough to betray what it had cost her. “Which gave us quite the scare,” she added quietly.

 

Chris stared at them both, trying to make sense of the words.

 

Died.

 

Resuscitate.

 

They didn’t sound like they belonged to him. They were for others, but not him. Not the Captain.

 

Three days.

 

The crew.

 

He blinked hard, as if the motion might clear the fog pressing in behind his eyes. Una insisted the crew was fine, but the thought of being out of command, of not knowing, scraped against everything in him that was command.

 

He pushed up again, slower this time, muscles trembling with the effort. The world tilted, then steadied. His pulse drummed in his ears.

 

The implications hadn’t quite landed yet. They hovered just out of reach, like the memory of heat still radiating from a long-dead flame.

 

“Chris.” Una’s voice carried that no-argument command edge now. “You’re not going anywhere. The crew’s fine. Rest.”

 

He met her gaze, found no give there, and slumped back against the biobed. “Yes, Number One.”

 

“Good,” she said more softly. “That’s an order. Now, I have to go and check in on Bridge. I won't be gone long."

 

"You don't have to stay." Chris argued, feeling sheepish.

 

Una gave him a look that was equal parts fond and exasperated. “That’s not how this works. You’d do the same for me.”

 

He tried to protest, but she was already adjusting the blanket over his lap, her movements brisk and efficient.

 

“I’ll be back after Alpha shift,” she said. “Try not to start another mutiny against gravity before then.”

 

That earned a faint smile from him. “No promises.”

 

Una’s lips twitched before she turned for the door. “Rest, Chris,” she repeated quietly.

 

He watched her leave, the sound of her boots fading into the sterile hush of sickbay. The moment the doors slid shut, the room felt too large, too quiet.

 

After that time passed both fast and slow. A PADD had been given to him once he was strong enough to wield his cup of metallic apple juice. The lights seemed too sharp to him and made him wince every so often. They buzzed faintly to him and he wondered why he hadn't noticed that before. It was rather irritating.

 

Eventually M'Benga came back to him. "I can't see a reason to keep you here." He said. Chris almost leapt for joy but thought better of it. 

 

"I can go?" The Captain tried to not sound too enthusiastic about it.

 

He failed miserably.

 

The CMO nodded. He watched as Chris sat down his PADD and swung himself over to dangle his feet over the edge. He was ready to move in and catch him if need be, but there wasn't any need. Chris felt a lot steadier after some juice and soup. His stomach was still unsteady, but at least he'd kept everything down. 

 

"You may go. However, I'm not clearing you for duty just yet." He chuckled at the stream of complaints that followed that. He held up a hand and Chris stopped. "You'll still be weak for a few days. I've gone ahead and taken you off the roster for that long. We should have your results by then. In the meantime, I see no need to order bed rest, but take it easy. Oh, and no heavy meals for the next day or two. You haven't eaten properly in three days. Better to not go heavy after that." He said with a wink. 

 

"Oh, and if anyone asks what happened, Chris, just tell them it was a health scare. We didn't impart any information otherwise for fear of a ship-wide panic."

 

Chris nodded. He was well aware of M'Benga watching him as he stood shakily. He took a few equally shaky steps, testing his meager strength.

 

Why gallop before you could trot?

 

"Do you want me to get Una to help you back to your quarters?" 

 

Chris hated the idea of pulling her from the bridge. Reluctantly, he was seeing how it could be a good idea. 

 

The captain was aware of M'Benga watching him again. He stepped forward, too stubborn to ask for help. His legs wobbled and he swayed a little. The CMO moved to rush in if need be but he steadied himself on the chair that Una had sat in earlier.

 

How many times have I caught someone else like this? Strange how balance could feel so fragile when it was your own.

 

The doctor stayed close, hands at his sides, fighting the urge to steady him. M'Benga sighed softly, knowing Chris wouldn't like his decision but…better safe than sorry. He left the captain's side and went to one of the consoles. 

 

"Sickbay to Commander Chin-Riley."

 

"Una here." Crackled her response. Her voice was crisp, sharp but hinted with worry.

 

Chris listened with a light frown, his pride too stubborn to accept help. He didn't protest. He knew he wasn't in a state to say anything, but it annoyed him regardless. 

 

“Your captain’s attempting to demonstrate his independence,” he said. “You may want to collect him before he tries to walk home.”

 

A pause crackled faintly over the comm before her voice softened. “On my way.”

 

He winced a little at the crackle. It seemed much too loud to him; like the lights overhead seeming too bright. He half wondered if the systems were acting up. Everything on the ship suddenly felt louder, closer to him and he wasn't a fan of the sensation. The brightness almost made his eyes water. 

 

Time seemed slow and fast at the same time as he waited. He moved back to the biobed, feeling like a little kid again. Chris was frustrated with the situation, but he knew better than to complain. His mind drifted to everything that had happened over the last three days, feeling perturbed. 

 

Chris jumped when the sickbay doors hissed open and in walked Una, looking striking as ever. He noticed, with a hint of embarrassment, that the uniform was a clean, new one.

 

"I don't need to be escorted.' He complained. 

 

"Doctor's orders." Called M'Benga from around the corner which only made Una chuckle. Chris' lips thinned into a frown.

 

Una crossed sickbay to him, holding out an elbow. It didn't seem dignified to him, but better safe than sorry. He reached for it, pride and ego warring internally as he took the elbow when he swayed. "C'mon, let’s get you to your quarters before you drive M'Benga up the wall." 

 

They crossed the sickbay slow and steady. Chris’s legs still felt like they belonged to someone else. The doors hissed shut behind them, and he blinked against the corridor’s brightness.

 

Una guided him toward the wall. He let go of her arm, stubborn as ever. She hovered close, ready if he faltered. A few officers passed, pausing to salute; he returned each with a faint nod.

 

His thoughts wandered as they walked. The hum underfoot blended with Una’s steady pace, and somewhere between steps he lost track of what deck they were on. Faces blurred. Voices came and went. All that stayed clear was the feel of the ship breathing around him.

 

The corridor curved ahead, and for a second Chris thought they’d reached the turbolift. He blinked. No—just another junction. The walls seemed to shift when he tried to focus, and his stomach rolled again. He pressed a hand against the bulkhead until the sensation passed.

 

“Easy,” Una said quietly.

 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though the word felt unsteady in his mouth.

 

They kept walking. The deck felt longer than it should have, the hum of the ship low and heavy beneath his boots. By the time they reached his corridor, his balance had steadied, but a dull ache lingered behind his eyes. He hated that Una could probably see it.

 

A few officers passed and nodded, their gazes flicking between them. He managed a return nod, faint and formal. They didn’t need to see how much effort it took to keep his footing.

 

His quarters waited across the corridor hub, only a few steps away, but with nothing to hold on to. 

 

Chris' balance wavered as he looked over at his doors with a sense of trepidation, forgetting that Una was right there with him. 

 

She must have noticed because she lifted her elbow in silent offer. The motion caught in the corner of his vision; he startled, stumbled, and his hands found her arm before gravity did. Together they made their way across the corridor to his door. 

 

It hissed open like a sigh. 

 

Like coming home

 

Inside, everything was quiet. The stench of cleaner made his stomach churn and Chris wondered what had happened there. 

 

"You knocked over your glass and cut your hand pretty good." Una said as if reading his reaction. "Doesn't seem like the carpet stained." She said gratefully. 

 

Chris nodded mutely, her words sounding distant. It seemed to him his mind hand't yet woken up fully. 

 

He took a breath, trying to quell the rising nausea. 

 

"Thanks…for everything." He said awkwardly. 

 

"Always, Chris. You'd do the same for me. Now, go and sit before you fall over again. Call if you need anything." Chris didn't know it, but Una was already making plans to check in every so often. At least until his strength was back.

 

Chris nodded, but doubted he would. She left him leaning against the counter. He watched her turn and leave, the doors closing behind her. It was now that he noticed the sink was empty. Someone had done the dishes and removed the strawberries from the counter. Chris wondered if it had been Una and warmed at the thought.

 

All of a sudden, his stomach revolted against him again.

 

The nausea came slow, a low roll deep in his gut that warned before it hit. He tried to breathe through it, to will it away, but the air turned thick and hot. The walls seemed closer. The hum of the ship pressed behind his eyes.

 

Chris stumbled to the bathroom as fast as he could. Each step was unsteady, hands catching the bulkhead. The light above the sink was too white, too sharp. His reflection swam before him. Then his stomach lurched.

 

The sound broke out of him, raw and ugly. He doubled over the sink, everything burning on the way up. Acid, bile, that faint metallic tang from the juice. Chris couldn’t stop it, couldn’t breathe between the heaves. It went on too long, until he was empty, until all that was left was the tremor in his arms and the ache behind his ribs.

 

He rinsed his mouth but it didn’t help. The water smelled of metal too. He stood there a while, hunched and shaking, forehead pressed to the cool edge of the counter. Alive, yes, but not steady.

 

He thought of Una wiping her uniform without complaint. Of M’Benga’s quiet sigh before calling her. Of every hand that had steadied him. Chris hated needing it. Hated how small it made him feel.

 

The Captain made it to the bed, sank down without undressing. The sheets were too clean, too smooth. Every breath sounded loud in his own head. The hum of the engines, the whisper of ventilation, even the slow rhythm of his pulse. It all seemed louder now, closer, like the ship itself was listening.

 

Chris' mind wandered as if desperate to keep him from focusing too much on his roiling stomach.

 

Three. Days.

 

The implications were huge.

 

A lot could happen in three days on a starship on the edge of known space.

 

Una had said that he had died. M'Benga had said that they revived him. Was that why he felt so weak? He hated it with every ounce of his being. He hated needing the extra help, being unable to do it himself.

 

The horror of what had happened truly begun to sunk in as he lay there on his back. He rolled over, not finding that comfortable especially with his churning stomach.

 

You died. The words pounded in his mind. He didn't know if he was trying to sleep or rest, but it didn't seem to be coming either way.

 

You died. The words repeated themselves, but it was Una's voice this time.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the words wouldn’t stop. They looped through his mind in her voice, steady and unshakable. You died.

 

His chest tightened. The rhythm of his breathing stuttered, shallow and uneven. The air in his quarters felt thin, too hot, too close. He sat up too fast, the movement sharp and instinctive. The room lurched in response, the floor tilting as bile surged in his throat.

 

Chris dry heaved, his stomach empty thanks to earlier. His breathing came much too fast

.

He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to slow his breath, but it only made the tightness worse. Every inhale scraped. His pulse thundered in his ears, loud enough to drown out the ship’s hum.

 

He shut his eyes again, willing himself to focus, to command his body the way he commanded a bridge. It didn’t listen. The world narrowed to sound and heartbeat and heat crawling beneath his skin.

 

Get it together.

 

The words didn’t help. His throat worked around another dry gag, and a cold sweat broke across his neck. He hunched forward, elbows on his knees, waiting for it to pass. It didn’t.

 

He retched again and finally things settled down. Chris' breathing slowed, but still felt unsteady. He watched his hands tremble.

 

This wasn't him. This didn't feel like him. What the hell had happened?

 

The captain glanced back at his bed. He wanted to lie down again, but the bed suddenly looked like a place someone else had died. With a sigh he shakily got up, praying his strength held. It did. He hobbled over to the couch. A PADD had been left on the cleaned table. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of cleaner, but managed to ignore it. Chris leaned forward to pick it up and turn it on, settling in for an unsettled evening. The nebula glowed benevolently beyond his windows.

 

He sat there for a long while, staring at the glowing nebula beyond the glass. The colors shifted slowly, rippling like breath. Gold bled into violet, then back again, and he couldn’t tell if it was really changing or if his vision was playing tricks on him.

 

The PADD screen blurred. His eyes ached. Every few seconds, the hum beneath his feet seemed to sync with his heartbeat, a rhythm too steady to be natural.

 

Chris rubbed at his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind. It didn’t lift.

 

He was supposed to rest. That was what they had told him. Instead, he felt suspended, caught between waking and something else. The light outside flickered once, faint and golden, like it knew his name.

Chapter Text

Christopher Pike woke with a startled snort. He couldn’t remember what had woken him—only the echo of movement, a shimmer behind his eyes. He sighed and rolled over, telling himself today would be better. The sheets clung damp to his skin, twisted around his legs. The air felt heavier than it should have.

 

Chris lay on his back, uneasy. His stomach felt tight, a low fullness sitting under his ribs. When he shifted, the pressure moved with him, mild but persistent, as though his body hadn’t caught up with itself. He brushed a hand across his midsection, frowning.

 

Maybe dehydration.

 

Maybe the aftermath of sickbay.

 

Either way, it was new.

 

As he lay there waking up, Chris felt another new sensation. His back ached. He winced a little, wondering if he'd slept wrong. Maybe some movement would help alleviate it.

 

Even here in the privacy of his own bed, Azura-9 intruded. The nebula's glow cast a soft golden light with his lights off.

 

Today will be better, he told himself. It has to be.He didn’t fully believe it.

 

“Computer, time?” His voice came out rougher than expected. Chris pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, waiting for the floor to steady beneath him. Lights came up to his usual settings.

 

The shift from lying to sitting made the pressure flare again. His abdomen felt oddly solid, the fullness spreading higher beneath his ribs. For a second Chris wondered if he’d pulled a muscle, but the ache was deeper than that, diffuse and stubborn.

 

Something about it felt wrong. Chris filed it away to be dealt with later, wondering if it was just fallout from his fever.

 

“Twelve thirty hours.”

 

Shit. I’m late!

 

He stood too quickly. The room reeled, and Chris caught himself against the mattress with a muttered curse.

 

Then he remembered—medical leave.

 

There was nowhere he needed to be.

 

The captain took a slow breath.

 

I’m fine, he told himself as he stood again, slower this time. Everything’s fine.

 

He felt steadier than yesterday, but not steady enough. The weakness clung to him like static. Still, he crossed his quarters and reached the kitchen. Gripping the counter, he bent to open a cupboard and rummaged for a pan. The moment he lifted one, his arms trembled.

 

Whatever fine was, this wasn’t it.

 

The pan slipped from his hand and hit the floor. The sharp clang filled the silence, louder than it should have been. For a moment he just stared at it.

 

No shift.

 

No reports.

 

Nothing to do.

 

The quiet pressed in.

 

Chris' chest tightened.

 

He told himself to breathe, to calm down, but his breath stayed shallow. His pulse beat against his ribs, faster, unsteady.

 

“Get it together,” he muttered. He bent to pick up the pan and set it back on the counter. The motion was slow, deliberate. If he could keep his hands busy, the rest would follow. Routine. Control.

 

The Captain hated not being able to cook. The thought alone stung. Not because he felt above it, but because cooking grounded him. It was what kept him human out here, light years from his stables and the smell of real earth. Without it, he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

 

Reluctantly, he decided a visit to the galley was his best option. Not looking like this, though. With a resigned sigh, Chris left the kitchen and headed for the bathroom. The memory of yesterday’s purging hit him in a rush, sharp and unpleasant. He ignored the toilet, stripped, and stepped into the shower.

 

Chris leaned his head against the wall, water striking the back of his neck in a steady rhythm. The heat worked into his shoulders, easing knots he hadn't noticed. The heaviness in his stomach refused to fade. It sat there, dense and immovable, as if gravity had taken root beneath his ribs.

 

Chris pressed his hand to his abdomen again, tracing along the edge of the dull ache. Not sharp. Not tender. Just there, heavy and constant. He let his palm rest flat against it, the warmth of the water soaking into his skin. The sensation was unnerving. His body had always been reliable, finely tuned to Starfleet's demands and the demands of captaincy in general. This felt alien, uncooperative.

 

He drew a slow breath, testing the expansion of his chest. It tugged faintly lower than it should have. Not pain….just resistance. Chris frowned. Maybe he'd pulled something when Una had hauled him off the floor of his quarters. Or maybe it was lingering dehydration; three days in sickbay on minimal intake would do that. That had to be it. He was still rebuilding electrolytes, his muscles and body adjusting. Nothing more.

 

Still, he couldn't ignore how taut it had felt under his hand. His stomach wasn't as flat as it should be. Not soft, but distended, a subtle curve where there shouldn't be one. When he shifted his stance, it moved with him, a faint internal drag that sent a twinge up his side.

 

"C'mon," He muttered, exhailing through clenched teeth. "Not now." He swallowed against the surge that threatened, not that there would be much there to throw up now.

 

He turned the temperature up a few dials, letting scalding water chase away the sensation. The heat helped for a while. The pressure softened, or maybe he just convinced himself it did. He focused on the familiar. The scent of the ship's recycled air mixing with steam. The droplets of water pounding into his back.

 

As the minutes passed, the haze of comfort wavered. The pressure remained. Deeper, now, closer to the surface, like the faint swell before turbulence. He flattened both hands against his abdomen, breathing slow. The motion was measured, almost clinical. If he'd been anyone else he'd have called it anxiety. But anxiety didn't make yourself feel this foreign.

 

After a while steam blurred the walls, the mirror, even the edge of his thoughts. It filled the room. For the first time since leaving sickbay, Chris let himself breathe. For a moment, the captain forgot the ship, the nebula, everything but the warmth.He leaned into the spray and let his thoughts go slack, the sound of the water filling the space where worry usually lived.

 

For the first time since sickbay, he let himself breathe. The captain let himself forget the ship, the nebula, everything. The world shrank to heat, breath, heartbeat.

 

The steam grew thick around him, curling in ghostlike threads. For a heartbeat, Chris thought he saw movement in it. A faint shimmer, like something gold flickering through the haze. He blinked hard and it was gone. Just condensation catching the light was what he told himself, perhaps coupled with his fatigue.

 

When the water finally cooled, he twisted the valve shut. Drops ran down his chest, tracing paths that felt too warm against skin that no longer felt entirely his. The sudden silence left a ringing in his ears until the fan kicked on automatically. Droplets clung to his skin, racing down his chest and sides. The air outside the shower was cold by comparison, making him shiver.

 

Chris reached for a towel on the back of the toilet and caught his reflection in the fogged mirror. The glass distorted his outline, bending it just enough to look wrong. He wiped a streak clear with his palm, revealing the drawn, pale face beneath with eyes too tired and washed-out skin. There was a very faint swell to his midsection that was visible in the harsh light.

 

It wasn't dramatic, not enough for anyone else to notice.

 

But he noticed.

 

The captain dragged a hand through his damp hair and stood there for a moment, watching himself breathe. The motion still caught in the same place, that shallow tug just below his ribs.

 

"Still standing," He muttered to the reflection. "Still standing."

 

The ghost in the mirror didn't look convinced.

 

He wrapped the towel around his waist, the fabric rough against damp skin, and stepped back into the cooler air of his quarters. The glow from Azura-9 had deepened to a gold-blue through his viewport windows, spilling long shadows across the floor. It reached his feet, pooling around them like liquid light.

 

Chris stopped and stared at it for a long moment, unsure why it unsettled him. It was only starlight. The hue seemed warmer than it should have been, almost alive even. He told hiimself it was just coincidence. He rummaged through a drawer until he found a shirt with 1701 across the front and pulled it on. Comfortable sweatpants followed. Compared to Chris' uniform the fabric felt foreign. It was comfortable enough fabric and fit made him feel marginally more awake, a little more himself.

 

Just a little.

 

There was still part of the captain that pined for his standard uniform.

 

The captain moved more easily than yesterday, though the effort still tugged at him. Some things, it seemed, were still out of reach.

 

Reluctantly, he decided to retreat to the galley. With luck, it would be quiet at this hour.

 

Chris stepped into the corridor, and the doors hissed shut behind him.

 

Thankfully the galley wasn't far. He walked slower than usual, his gait felt shaky and uneven but steadier than yesterday. The corridor was empty since Alpha was in full swing by now. They'd probably be getting ready for lunch break by now.

 

Chris almost made it to the galley when the corridor seemed to shift under his feet. He caught himself against the wall, heart pounding. For a second he thought the ship had tilted, but the deck stayed steady beneath his hand. Maybe a subtle course change.

 

Maybe it was just him.

 

Chris realized pretty quickly he shouldn't be able to feel the faint pull of inertia, the ghost of motion that no one else seemed to notice. Not unless the inertia dampeners were acting up.

 

The thought barely formed before Chris' vision tunneled. The corridor dimmed at the edges, color draining out of the light. He blinked hard, trying to steady himself against the bulkhead, but the floor slipped away.

 

When he came to, his shoulder was pressed against the wall. The ship was still beneath him, and his breathing came too fast. He wasn’t sure how long he had been out. Seconds, maybe less. Long enough.

 

What the hell is wrong with me? Chris wondered as he struggled to his feet, scanning the corridor. Empty. Thank the stars nobody had seen that. He recovered strength quickly after that. Once he felt strong enough, he continued on. Chris stuck close to the bulkhead but didn't need it again.

 

Soon enough he walked through hissing doors into an empty galley.

 

Normally Chris may have warmly welcomed them, but he wasn't in the mood. He had to keep up the act that nothing was wrong. That his medical crisis hadn't been that bad. As such he withdrew, sharing a nod now and then or a half muttered greeting. Staring at his bowl of broth he received a quite a few, "We're glad you're okay sirs." And a few wishes for good health. They didn't seem to notice his dour mood, just that their captain was back.

Good.

 

If it was twelve thirty, it wouldn’t stay empty for long. He crossed to the replicator, debating what to order. Coffee sounded good, but his CMO had told him to go light. Sensible advice after three days out. His stomach was still unsteady, better suited to something plain.

 

"Bone broth, hot."

 

Once the replicator chimed that it was done he took the bowl over to one of the tables. His back was to the windows that had a perfect view of the nebula. Chris spooned some of the broth, frowning when he noticed his hand trembling. The first sip went down easily enough, but heat pooled low in his stomach and stayed there, heavy. He set his spoon down before he could drop it.

 

See? He could function just fine. Everything was okay. This was normal. The ship was fine. He was fine. The crew was fine. Nothing was wrong.

 

Chris took another sip as if to prove it to himsellf.

 

Voices drifted in from the corridor, soft at first, then louder. Alpha shift, breaking for lunch. So much for privacy. Not that he had expected much of it here.

 

Normally Chris would have greeted them with his usual warmth, but not today. He had to keep up the act that nothing was wrong, that his time in sickbay hadn’t been as serious as it sounded. So he kept to himself, offering the occasional nod or half-muttered reply.

 

“Glad you’re back, sir.” “Good to see you on your feet.”

 

He answered each with the faintest smile, eyes fixed on his bowl. They didn’t notice the distance in his tone, only that their captain was sitting among them again.

 

However, that didn't last.

 

The first of the bridge crew started to filter in.

 

The first of the bridge crew filtered in. Chris kept his focus on the broth, doing his best to ignore them.

 

Erica was first to food, as always, waltzing in mid-conversation with a junior officer. She headed over to the replicator with them, ordering her meal. She picked up the tray and looked around, her eyes lighting up when she saw Chris sitting there dour and alone.

 

A comically wide grin broke out on the pilot's face. She sat down dramatically across the table from him. "Captain's back on his feet, eh? Guess sickbay couldn't chain you down forever."

 

“They say I’m fine. I’m still deciding if I believe them.” Chris said quietly, wryness softening the fatigue in his voice.

 

"You sure? You look a solid seventy percent captain to me.” Erica replied as she ate her food. "Then again, fine's overrated." She winked.

 

Chris focused on his broth, taking another spoonful, trying to stop his hand from shaking. He didn't reply, but watched as Spock and La'an followed in, Uhura coming in alongside them. They got their food and headed over to the same table. Spock and La'an, however, both took one look at the situation and chose the table next door to give him space.

 

“Sir,” She said with a nod. “Good to have you back.” She sat down at the other table, face to face with Spock.

 

Uhura chose a spot not quite as close as Erica had who was across the table from him.

 

“You missed a hell of a quiet few days,” Uhura joked, trying to make him smile. “Almost peaceful, really."

 

A faint snort of amusement came from the captain. The light seemed to return to his eyes briefly. "I'll bet. Mapping's pretty exciting isn't it?"

 

"Ugh, I know!" Exclaimed Erica, making Chris jump. "There's absolutely nothing to do!"

 

"For you, perhaps." Spock said as he looked up from his salad. "I have plenty to cover."

 

"Rub it in why don't ya?" The pilot grumbled with an eye roll.

 

"Glad to see you all hard at work,” came Una’s voice.

 

Chris looked up too fast and the galley tilted around him. He caught the edge of the table to steady himself, pretending it was nothing.

 

He hadn’t even noticed her come in, which unsettled him. He usually did. Yet there she was, tray in hand, the light from Azura-9 catching in her hair and turning it the same warm gold that haunted his dreams.

 

Warmth stirred in his chest, unsettling and familiar. He remembered that night together. Her laugh, the way she’d kissed his finger after he’d cut it. The soft brush of her lips on his forehead as she’d left.

 

“Earth to the captain.”

 

Erica’s hand waved in front of his face, grin sharp and amused. He blinked, realizing he’d been staring like a lovestruck schoolboy.

 

He turned back to his bowl, what little broth remained cooling fast. His hand trembled again as he lifted the spoon, irritation flaring. The sip went down thick. A bright spark bloomed in his stomach, sharp enough to steal his breath. He swallowed hard, determined to keep it down.

 

Una was one thing, but the thought of losing it here, in front of his crew, clawed at him.

 

Act normal.

 

Just act normal.

 

But what was normal anymore?

 

Days after literally dying, and here he was, stuck in the galley because he couldn’t lift a pan. Stuck over a bowl of broth he could barely stomach.

 

This wasn’t Captain Christopher Pike.

 

He wasn’t sure what this was, but it wasn’t him.

 

Captains were supposed to rebound. That’s what command demanded. You took the hit, you got back up, you went to the bridge. You didn’t linger. You didn’t shake. You didn’t sit in a galley fighting nausea like a rookie fresh from the Academy. He should be back in the Chair, not licking his wounds.

 

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Una said as she sat down, voice low enough to stay between them.

 

“I am resting. Sitting counts.”

 

“Not when you’re pale and pretending your spoon isn’t shaking.”

 

He exhaled through his nose. “Not pretending. Just practicing control.”

 

“You’re terrible at it,” she said, but her tone was softer than the words. Una watched him with brief worry on her face before turning to her own food.

 

Chris started to wonder if the galley had been a mistake. He stared down at the broth, the faint tremor in his hand refusing to stop. Maybe coming here had been a mistake. Nobody should see him like this.

 

The captain told himself tomorrow would be better. It had only been a day since his release from sickbay. He tried to give himself a little leniency, but the thought rang hollow. Command wouldn’t. Why should he?

 

Uhura seemed to notice his dour mood. she smiled across the table. “You missed the excitement yesterday.”

 

Pike raised an eyebrow, looking up. “Excitement?”

 

“Ensign T’Vahr tried to explain Klingon opera to Erica at lunch.”

 

Erica groaned. “It was a cultural exchange gone wrong.”

 

Pike chuckled, the sound rough but real. “See? I leave for three days and the place falls apart.”

 

The laugh caught in his throat halfway. The warmth from a moment ago twisted, sharp and sudden, beneath his ribs. He swallowed hard, the taste of bile rising. For a moment, he thought he'd loose it right there in front of everyone.

 

How embarrassing.

 

Chris closed his eyes and forced a slow breath through his nose, fighting it back. He was determined to keep even simple broth down, knowing he needed it. His hands stayed flat on the table until the tremor passed.

 

"Captain?" Una's voice was quiet, probing.

 

"I'm fine," He said, voice rough.

 

He wasn't.

 

He reached for his napkin, wiped his mouth, and pretended to study what was left of the broth in his bowl. The smell coupled with the smell of the others' food turned his stomach, but it stayed down. Barely.

 

Others started to leave as the computer chimed the ten minute warning.

 

Chris stayed at the table, swallowing against the sourness in his throat. Around him, conversations resumed in uneven fragments, the sound of utensils clinking and laughter returning to normal. He tried to match their rhythm, nodding when someone spoke or answering once or twice.

 

Una remained at his side as the chime sounded. Others stood up to leave chairs scraping against the floor made him wince. His XO said little, but Chris could feel her watching him along with Spock.

 

"Captain," Said Spock finally, "Should you not still be under Doctor M'Benga's observation?"

 

"I'm under self-observation," Chris muttered. "It's a new program."

 

Erica nearly choked on her drink which earned a glare from Una. "Remind me not to try that one out." She said, moving to stand. Despite himself, Chris snorted in amusement. He had, technically, been released to his quarters even though he wasn't fully better. He was still immeasurably better than he had been and only would've been driven nuts in sickbay. At least in his quarters, Chris could rest easier. Little did he know Una was making mental plans to check in on him more frequently with this new development.

 

The rest of the conversation blurred. Officers excused themselves as lunch ended. Chris' focus drifted to the vibration under his feet. The soft pulse of the distant engines. It was louder than usual, a deeper resonance that seemed to echo in his ribs. He blinked and it was gone, replaced by the normal thrum.

 

Chris pressed a palm against the table, feeling the faintest tremor run through it. Not from the ship, however, but from him. He stayed seated after the others left, voices leaving one by one. He waited for the shaking to stop, but it didn't. They galley emptied. Only Una remained with him, her tray pushed aside. Her posture was calm, but her eyes sharp.

 

Una's lips pressed together into a thin line. "You should be in bed."

 

"You should be on the bridge." Chris pointed out without meeting her eyes.

 

"It's handled. La'an has the conn."

 

"But you don't trust anyone else with it." Chris replied with a raised eyebrow. He still didn't meet her gaze.

 

"That's rich, coming from you."

 

He huffed softly, the sound closer to a sigh than amusement. "Touche."

 

The silence that followed wasn't exactly uncomfortable, just thick. The kind of quiet only shared when no one else was around. Outside the viewports, Azura-9's glow shifted. Gold and faint blue, pulsing slow and alive. The color played across the table and his hand and he watched it dance. It painted both of their faces in warm light.

 

"You shouldn't be here Chris, I know you have replicators in your quarters." Una said after a while, gentler this time. "You're pushing too soon."

 

"I'm fine." It seemed to be turning into a mantra today.

 

"You're not."

 

Chris didn't have the energy to argue. There didn't seem much point. The denial had worn thin even to his own ears.

 

"I….just needed to feel like myself again," He admitted with a low voice. "A captain who can't stand up straight doesn't inspire confidence."

 

"The crew doesn't need inspiration. They need you alive. I need you alive, Chris." Una said. Chris wondered if she meant that personal slip, or if she knew the crew wouldn't last long without their captain.

 

"You always did know how to ruin a good pity spiral." He snorted in amusement.

 

That almost earned a smile from her.

 

Almost.

 

"C'mon," She said, standing. "If I walk you back to your quarters will you at least pretend to rest?" She asked with a chuckle.

 

"If I have to."

 

Chris rose slowly, steadying himself on the table. His balance wavered just enough for Una's hand to hover near his elbow. It wasn't touching, just there. He gave her a tired look that was equal parts gratitude and frusteration.

 

"Still got it." He said quietly.

 

"Barely."

 

They started down the corridor side by side. The ship hummed around them, steady and alive but to Chris it felt like every vibration pressed deeper under his skin. The corridor lights were too bright, the air too thin. Una's voice grounded him. Low, controlled, familiar. They walked through his doors.

 

"You worried us, you know." She said.

 

"So you've said. That's new?"

 

Una shook her head. "Not like this." She said, leaving some of it unsaid. You haven't died on us yet.

 

"I'll survive."

 

"You'd better."

 

They stopped outside his quarters. For a moment, neither spoke.

 

"Una," He said quietly. "Thanks."

 

"For what?"

 

"For not saying what you're thinking."

 

"You wouldn't listen anyway." She replied, amusement coloring her voice with a hand propped on one hip.

 

"Probably not."

 

Chris watched her mouth curve faintly upwards. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then, Una stepped closer, close enough that he could feel her breath. She hesitated. It was the kind of hesitation that says everything when words can't. Then brushed a light kiss against his temple like she'd done the night he'd made dinner for them.

 

The night he'd collapsed.

 

"Get some rest, Chris."

 

Chris winked at her. "That's the plan." Stars, he sounded tired even to himself.

 

Una held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned and walked away. The harsh light from the lights above catching in her hair as the doors slid shut between them.

Chapter Text

Chris rubbed the back of his neck as the doors hissed shut behind Una. While he didn't mind the peace and quiet being alone got him, he did miss her company. The Captain sighed, wondering how to whittle away the hours until his CMO would clear him.

 

It was going to be a long week.

 

The captain paced his quarters relentlessly. He knew he should rest, but rest eluded him. Every time he sat, his body protested stillness. His legs twitched with leftover adrenaline, his mind ticking through reports he wasn’t allowed to read.

 

The room felt too small, the recycled air too clean. He paused by the viewport, watching the faint shimmer of the nebula beyond the shields. Its slow drift mocked his own impatience.

 

Chris told himself he’d only walk a few laps, that moving might tire him enough to sleep. Instead, each turn only stoked the unease coiled behind his ribs.

 

The captain frowned when a blue blinking light caught his attention out of the corner of his vision. PADDs came with an external blue light up in the corner that blinked if they received an important notice or communication. If it was important enough it'd chirp like a regular communicator.

 

Excitement tingled through him. Finally, something to do. Giddy, it reminded Chris how he was never truly off duty.

 

Chris considered pouring himself a glass of brandy in hopes it might help calm him down, but the idea turned his stomach. Maybe it was the fact that he was still recovering from the fever that turned him off to the idea. Maybe it was something else.

 

The light kept blinking, patient and insistent. He crossed the room, wrinkling his nose at the lingering sting of disinfectant. Chris' stomach rolled again as the broth threatened to resurface, but he swallowed it back and reached for the PADD. Irritation prickled beneath the nausea, sharp and familiar, and the small pulse of blue light continued to beckon.

 

Chris sat down, ignoring the attention the movement drew to his taut abdomen. The cushion sank under him, and for a moment he just stayed there, breathing through the dull weight pressing behind his eyes. This was far more pressing.

 

The notification could be anything, even something mundane. Right now it didn't matter to Chris. He was just grateful for something to do.

 

He turned on the PADD and the notification popped up.

 

STARFLEET OPERATIONS BULLETIN 2261-A12

Subject: Commissioning Notice – Tregurtha-Class Heavy Escort and deep space exploration Vessels

Distribution: All Sector Commanding Officers, Flag Liaison Staff

 

Huh, a new starship.

 

He loved Enterprise, but right now he was frantic for something to do. Anything really. Intrigue pulled at him as he tapped the notification which opened a larger document.

 

The captain frowned when another notification popped up.

 

— ATTACHED DIRECTIVE —

STARFLEET COMMAND OPERATIONS ORDER 2261-B14

 

Subject: Joint Readiness Inspection – USS Enterprise (NCC-1701)

 

Details:

Admiral Robert April will conduct a scheduled fleet readiness inspection aboard the USS Enterprise on Stardate 2261.49. The USS Fitzgerald (NCC-1975) (Tregurtha-class) will serve as escort and transport for the Admiral. This will act as the USS Fitzgerald sea trials. She will be escorted by three Spitfire-class ships.

 

Inspection Lead: Admiral April

 

Commanding officer: Captain Echo

 

Signed,

Fleet Admiral Hiram Westervane

Starfleet Operations, Utopia Planitia

 

Well, shit.

 

Chris jumped when another notification popped up. This one was accompanied by incessant chirping.

 

Incoming Secure Communique — Admiral Robert April

(Playback authorized for Captain Christopher Pike)

 

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the prompt. Then he tapped it, and anxiety lit up his chest.

 

The screen flickered once before resolving into the Starfleet crest. April’s voice followed, warm and familiar, carried through a wash of static:

 

“Chris, I thought I’d come and check up on you and the old girl. I read yours and Doctor M’Benga’s reports. I’m glad you’re doing okay, but the higher-ups are insisting. Don’t go dying on me, okay?”

 

There was a brief pause in the video, but he sounds like he's smiling. Static glitched interspersed.

 

“We’ll rendezvous soon. Try to look presentable? April out.”

 

The anxiety blossomed in his chest, but even more than that, curiosity about the new starship class. He closed out of the video, pulling up the previous notification.

 

The name of the commanding officer caught his eye.

 

Captain Echo.

 

An odd name.

 

He remembered her from Discovery: a lieutenant at Engineering with a sharp tongue and a way of interfacing with the ship. She and Stamets verbally sparred so often the bridge started taking bets.

 

The captain rubbed his eyes tiredly. That meant this inspection was bound to be a through one. He swiped back to the other notification.

 

The one about the new starship class.

STARFLEET OPERATIONS BULLETIN 2261-A12

Subject: Commissioning Notice — Tregurtha-Class Heavy Escort and Deep-Space Exploration Vessels

Distribution: All Sector Commanding Officers, Flag Liaison Staff

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

TREGURTHA-CLASS

The Tregurtha-class introduces modular research bays, dual-layer deflector shielding,

and variable warp-field geometry capable of sustained Warp 8.5 and emergency Warp 9.0.

Each vessel carries a full lab complement, extended-range shuttlecraft, and provisions

for missions up to five years without resupply.

Fleet Registry (Block One)

• USS Tregurtha (NCC-1981) — Flagship / Fleet Prototype / Testbed

• USS Fitzgerald (NCC-1975) — Heavy Deep-Space Exploration / Escort

• USS McSorely (NCC-1977) — Heavy Deep-Space Exploration / Science-Operations Hybrid

• USS Cooper (NCC-1953) — Diplomatic and Reconnaissance Variant

• USS Anderson (NCC-1952) — Heavy Deep-Space Exploration / Rapid-Response Vessel

Fleet Registry (Block Two)

• USS Barker (NCC-1976) — Survey and Cartographic Variant

• USS Bradley (NCC-1958) — Command Escort

• USS Gott (NCC-1979) — Heavy Deep-Space Exploration

• USS Morrell (NCC-1966) — Extended-Range Retrofit

• USS Sykes (NCC-1949) — Engineering Testbed

Issued By:

Fleet Admiral Hiram Westervane

Starfleet Operations — Utopia Planitia Division

Marie would have loved this—a new starship class fresh off the line. The thought slipped in before he could stop it. For a moment, the ache rose sharp and clean, the echo of her laughter filling the room. He could almost see her sitting across from him, teasing him for joking about “starship shopping.”

 

Chris forced the image away.

 

Forced his attention back to the notice before closing it and shutting off his PADD. For a moment he just sat there, debating what to do. It wasn’t exactly urgent. Chris still had nearly a week left before the inspection, assuming M’Benga cleared him for duty by then.

 

Still, he and Una would need to coordinate the crew roster and start the usual pre-inspection routine. She was on shift; she wouldn’t have seen the notification yet.

 

The thought pushed him upright. The motion came easier than expected, and for once the room didn’t tilt. Maybe that bit of broth had helped. Maybe he really was improving.

 

Chris felt steadier as he crossed the room. His legs held firm this time, no tremor beneath the stride. The doors hissed open, then again as he stepped into the corridor. Determination carried him forward. He was going to make it to the bridge without another collapse.

 

For a moment, he almost felt like himself again.

 

He headed back into the corridors, still in his civilian clothing. The lights were a bit too harsh for Chris, reminding him that he wasn't fully back to normal. Chris felt annoyed with himself for it as he stepped onto the turbolift.

 

The doors closed, sealing him in with the soft hum of the machinery. For a moment, the floor seemed to shift under his feet. Chris blinked hard, forcing his vision to steady. The irritation deepened; he’d promised himself this wouldn’t happen again.

 

The captain grasped the handle and at the same time said, "Bridge."He said. His voice was steady enough to even fool himself. He let go of the handle.

 

The turbolift whirred to life around him.

 

Halfway to the bridge, the floor seemed to tilt.

 

At first it was only a flicker, a trick of motion that did not match the lift’s smooth rise. The hum deepened, a low vibration he could feel in his teeth. It grew louder, steadier, until it seemed to live inside his chest.

 

Chris blinked, but the light overhead smeared and dragged across his vision. The air thickened. Each breath felt slow to arrive, as if the lift had filled with water. His stomach turned.

 

He tried to straighten. His body obeyed half a heartbeat too late. The edges of the room blurred, sound slipping away until only his pulse remained.

 

Chris was vaguely aware of the turbolift humming to a halt and the doors hissing open on the bridge. Horror shot through him at the thought of his crew seeing him like this. At them seeing him vulnerable. Yet he could do nothing to stop the rising tide of darkness.

 

Chris knew he was falling before he felt it. The sensation came in fragment. Knees giving, shoulder striking cold metal, the faint echo of it somewhere far away.

 

The world folded in on itself, slow and quiet, and then went dark.

 

One last thought flickered through his mind as he passed out.

 

He'd been back to normal…Hadn't he?

 

Then….nothing.

 

~

 

Stubborn, stubborn Chris. Curse that man for being so hardheaded.

 

Una’s thoughts burned and raged as she strode down the Deck 5 corridor after walking him back to his quarters. She loved him—of course she did—but there were days he tested every ounce of patience she possessed. He’d barely recovered, and already he was pacing, scheming, pretending to be fine when they both knew he wasn't.

 

The XO walked with a brisk pace to the turbolift, knowing she should still be on the bridge in his Chair.

 

Una could see things from his perspective, but that didn't make it any easier. The lift doors opened and she walked in. They shut behind her. She strode over to the grip, closed her hand around it and uttered, "Bridge" before letting go.

 

The lift hummed to life. She stood with her arms crossed and fidgeting with the fabric of her shirt. The ride was short as always, but seemed especially long today.

 

The turbolift doors parted to the bridge, alive with motion and sound. Consoles pulsed in steady rhythm as officers traded quiet reports, the boatswain’s whistle greeting Una as she stepped out.

 

She crossed to the command station, watching La’an rise from the chair and move aside, hands clasped neatly behind her back.

 

“Welcome back, Commander,” La’an said, her voice carrying a trace of teasing. Everyone on the bridge could guess where Una had been—and why.

 

“Any updates?”

 

"Negative, commander. Everything's silent out there."

 

"Silent as a graveyard, yet half as spooky." Came Erica's comment that Una ignored, the XO's eyes on the viewscreen.

 

Una slid into the Chair. She couldn't help but think of it as Chris' Chair even though she had every right to it as acting captain. She also couldn't help but notice that the Enterprise bridge seemed a lot quieter without him.

 

The bridge seemed quieter without him. Not silent, just… restrained. The usual undercurrent of humor was gone, replaced by the steady hum of consoles and the soft murmur of status reports. Ortegas wasn’t cracking jokes under her breath, Uhura’s tone at comms was more formal than usual. Even Spock’s efficiency felt sharper, as if everyone had unconsciously shifted into a stricter mode in his absence.

 

She leaned back slightly, scanning the room. The stars ahead gleamed cold and still, the nebula’s faint shimmer brushing the edges of the viewscreen. For all its motion, the ship felt paused. It was as if the ship itself was waiting for Chris to come back.

 

Una glanced at the Chair's arm — down at the panel— and tapped out a few things. She went over course headings, sensor calibrations, that sort of thing. The glass felt smooth and cool under her fingers. She even paused to check the chronometer, half wondering if Chris really was resting as he said he would. Una noticed how the golden glow from Azura-9 even reached her panels.

 

She listened to Erica complain about how boring cartography missions were and how she almost wished she’d cross-studied in sciences. Una almost smiled. Chris would have agreed with her, probably would’ve found some excuse to liven things up with a new heading or a detour through the nearest anomaly.

 

"You know, helm, I think Chris would agree with that."

 

That brought on a cocky smile. "Here that," She elbowed Matthiews teasingly. "The Captain would agree that cartography is sooooooo boring." A chuckle rumbled around the bridge.

 

The bridge hummed with the quiet rhythm of normal operations. No alerts, no anomalies, just the steady pulse of cartography readings scrolling across the main display.

 

“Because you’d have to listen to Spock lecture you on data symmetry." Matthiews shot back which earned a raised eyebrow from Spock.

 

“Because the last time you touched a sensor array, we had to recalibrate the whole deck.” Uhara shot back from comms with laughter in her voice.

 

“Exactly. You see my genius was wasted. I’d have made an excellent scientist." Erica said, leaning back in her chair. A moment passed before she registered what Comms had said. "Wait—hold on that was one time!”

 

Una glanced up from the panel on the armchair. She'd only half been paying attention to the conversation. a smile threatened to creep onto her face, but she reigned it in.

 

"Alright people, cut the chatter. Let's try to stay awake without the—" She chided. The hiss of the turbolift doors cut her off. Una frowned, confusion flickering through her. They weren’t expecting relief, and any report from Sciences would have gone through Spock.

 

She turned, the sound only registering a heartbeat later.

 

The heavy impact of a body hitting the deck.

 

Una reacted before what happened even fully registered. She shot out of the chair and rushed around it, racing for the turbolift.

 

The same thought she'd had an hour ago leaving his quarters resurfaced.

 

Stubborn, stubborn Chris. Curse him for being so stupid and hardheaded.

 

Chris had hit the turbolift floor before Una made it. She knelt down, checking for a pulse instinctively. "Una to sickbay, medical emergency on the bridge. No need to waste your time crawling up here, I'll bring him down myself." She called out as shock rippled across the faces of her crewmates. Her voice came off snappier than she'd meant with her frustration leaking into it.

 

Without thinking about it she scooped him up into her arms.

 

Again.

 

"Acknowledged. We'll be ready for him."

 

"La'an, you have the Conn." Again, it came out snappier than she'd intended. At the moment, she hadn't the time for hurt feelings. She also knew La'an would take it like a champ anyway, Her rising frustration was more aimed at Chris and his inability to just rest.

 

La'an nodded and moved from her station back to the chair.

 

No words were needed.

 

The doors hissed shut as Number One shifted her captain in her arms, shutting out the shocked and horrified looks. Her jaw set as she shuffled over to the handle. She shifted Chris again and grasped it, saying "Sickbay" and released it. The turbolift hummed to life, traveling to Deck 5.

 

Una swallowed the rising panic, déjà vu crashing through her. She prayed silently that it wouldn’t be as bad as last time. It hadn’t been long since they’d lost him once and dragged him back. The memory clawed at her as the turbolift descended.

 

Her arms tightened around him.

 

"Clear!"

 

The single, unwavering tone.

 

Una tightened her grip on him again, forcing herself to breathe steady.

 

She couldn’t lose him.

 

Not again.

 

Una forced herself to focus on her breathing.

 

In one, two, three…out one, two, three.

 

By the time the turbolift doors opened to deck five she'd regained her composure. She couldn't afford to let the crew see her like that.

 

Still, the emotion didn’t settle.

 

Worry burned low in her chest, threaded with something sharper. She wasn’t angry at him so much as at the situation. Una was angry at how easily Chris pushed himself past the edge, at how close she’d come to losing him again.

 

Her grip adjusted, careful, steady. He felt too light in her arms.

 

Number One drew in a slow breath, forcing her shoulders to loosen. This wasn’t the time for anger. She just needed him breathing, talking, safe.

 

Una strode out onto Deck 5. She headed towards sickbay rather than his quarters. A few officers let her pass with him. They looked confused, but no one dared ask her anything. Not with her jaw set that way and the hard look in her eyes. The stiffness of her back.

 

She felt Chris stir in her arms weakly. "Nuuumber Ooone…" The words came out thick, slurred, barely conscious.

 

Una's breath caught.

 

Chris was okay.

 

Una's breath caught before she forced herself steady again. “You’re alright, Captain,” she said quietly. “Just stay still.”

 

He shifted against her hold, trying to get his feet under him. “I can—”

 

“Shut up, Chris.” Her tone snapped sharper than intended. Fear still sat just behind her teeth, masked as authority.

 

He stilled, eyes half-lidded, and she kept moving, each step deliberate. The corridor stretched ahead, sterile and bright, and she focused on the doors at the end. Sickbay. Almost there.

 

Una felt him shift again. It nearly threw her off balance. She tightened her grip and kept moving, knowing sickbay wasn't far.

 

She felt the faint change before he spoke—the stiffening in his shoulders, the quiet, uneven breath against her collar. Awareness was creeping back.

 

Of course Chris would hate this. The captain of the Enterprise, carried like a cadet who’d overdone it in drills. Number One could almost feel the mortification radiating off him. She kept her eyes forward, her hold steady. She didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t give him the mercy of pretending she hadn’t noticed.

 

“Almost there,” She said, voice even.

 

Una noticed him wince and squint at the light brights of sickbay as she walked through those doors.

 

That was weird. She mused amid her anxiety and anger.

 

"Bring him over here." Una heard M'Benga call and walked him over.

 

A rush of tenderness caught her off guard as she eased him onto the biobed. For a moment she didn’t trust her own hands.

 

Even now, Chris tried to rise, his fingers twitching against the sheets, muttering that he was fine. The sound of it—soft, hoarse, so him—made something twist in her chest.

 

Typical.

 

Typical, stubborn, hardheaded Chris. The thought came softer this time. The annoyance was still there, but affection dulled its edge.

 

M’Benga pressed him gently back down, murmuring reassurance. Una stayed close, one hand still at his shoulder. She felt the faint tremor under his skin as his resistance faded.

 

Relief crashed through her, too sharp to hide. Una brushed her thumb once against his arm before catching herself and stepping back, swallowing it all down again.

 

M'Benga walked back over with a scanner once more in his hand. "You should have told someone you were this poor off."

 

Number One watched her captain shift slightly on the biobed, his motion sluggish. "Didn't think it was that bad," He murmured. His voice was rough, yet quiet like it'd been scraped raw. A ghost of a smile crossed his face, too faint to reach his eyes. "Guess I was wrong."

 

Una';s jaw tightened. Chris always tried to laugh things off, even when there was nothing funny about it. He always tried to deflect things with humor when he could.

 

Una's gaze didn't leave Chris. Her jaw tightened. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, more personal yet thick with worry.

 

"You should've told at least me."

 

That made him look at her. Not his usual look. The one that was calm, commanding. It was something smaller. More tired, human even.

 

"Didn't want you worrying." He admitted softly.

 

Her chest tightened. Too late for that.

 

"Have you been having any other symptoms? Any other collapses?" Una heard M'Benga ask as he scanned Chris.

 

Una watched Chris hesitate, eyes flicking up toward the ceiling with a sigh. "Nothing serious," He said finally, which raised her eyebrow. "Just a little lightheaded from time to time. Maybe some nausea."

 

Una's eyes narrowed. That seemed to track after the scene in the galley, but she could hear that there was something more than just that.

 

M'Benga's expression didn't change. He didn't look up from the scanner. "Captain, you collapsed on the bridge." His tone was even, but it carried the weight of a reprimand. "That's not a little anything."

 

"Technically, it was the turbolift." Chris huffed. Una watched his gaze shift towards the ceiling as if avoiding looking at them while his shoulders sunk slightly into the biobed.

 

"You can downplay this later if you like, but for now I need the truth." Their CMO responded.

 

"Guess you caught me there. Didn't want to make a fuss; figured it'd pass." She watched him shrug.

 

"Yet here we are." M'Benga said. Chris huffed a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. "Yeah, here we are."

 

Una didn't miss the fatigue under the humor.

 

"You scared half the bridge." Una huffed, causing Chris' gaze to meet her's. She watched his expression shift to a combination of sheepish and mortification. "You don't have anything to prove to any of us, Chris. Don't push yourself so hard."

 

Out of the corner of her eye she caught M'Benga's knowing look on her. He didn't say anything, but she knew what it meant. Still, Una trusted the medical staff to stay professional and to keep their private bond where it belonged: secret. There was no fear of judgment here when it was just M'Benga and Chapel.

 

"I'd like to keep him under observation. It could all just be leftovers from the fever, or it could be something worse."

 

Una's lips twitched in amusement. Judging from Chris' protesting he wasn't exactly,y thrilled about observation. "Observation sounds good," She said. "When he's cleared, I'm assuming he should still rest in his quarters?" She asked M'Benga who nodded.

 

"He's still off roster for the next week." He said while Chris looking thoroughly unamused, crossing his arms to pout on the biobed. On his back it wasn't a very commanding pose, more childlike.

 

"Good. Oh and Chris?"

 

"Yeah?" She could hear the dread in his voice.

 

"If you pull that again I'll personally change who has access to the bridge temporarily."

 

Chris blinked at her, the faintest flicker of indignation crossing his face before he caught the humor in her tone. “You wouldn’t,” he said, though the way his voice dipped betrayed the doubt.

 

Una arched an eyebrow.

 

He sighed, shoulders slumping against the biobed. “You would.”

 

That earned him the smallest quirk of her mouth. It was almost a smile.

 

“Message received, Number One,” he murmured, voice softer now. “I’ll behave.”

 

M’Benga gave a quiet, approving hum, pretending not to be listening. Amusement lit up his dark eyes, however.

 

"What was it you thought was so important it couldn't wait?" Una asked, still standing by his bedside.

 

He frowned for a moment, as if he'd forgotten and then his expression shifted. "Inspection. Just got the notification that Admiral April will be here next week."

 

For a second, Una only stared at him. Of course he’d be thinking about that.

 

She exhaled slowly through her nose, crossing her arms. “You nearly passed out on the bridge, and you’re worried about an inspection?”

 

Chris had the decency to look sheepish.

 

Typical.

 

Una shook her head, a quiet huff escaping her. “We’ll handle the inspection. You just focus on following orders for once.”

 

"Loud and clear." Chris responded.

 

M'Benga glanced at the monitor. "Rest," said Una, her voice surprisingly soft. "That's an order."

 

"Acknowledged, Number One." Replied Chris, already sinking back into the biobed.

 

"Good. Because if you’re not fit by next week, Admiral April’s inspection will be the least of your problems.” She teased.

 

His quiet laugh followed her as she turned to leave, the sound thin but real.

 

Una shook her head as she turned to leave.

 

Stupid, hardheaded Chris. She repeated fondly. He’d never change. And she’d never stop making sure he lived long enough not to.

Chapter Text

The last thing Christopher Pike of the Enterprise remembered was darkness closing in on his vision. He had been barely supporting himself with his shoulder against the turbolift wall. The doors had hissed open and he made to walk on the bridge. The darkness took over and then…nothing.

Oh hell, had he collapsed in front of his crew?

Shit, shit, shit.

What had I been thinking?

He'd been thinking there was something Una needed to knowright now.

What was it?

Mortification hit harder than the dizziness, enough to kick his sluggish thoughts back into motion.

A faint sound of footsteps reached him as he started coming round. Chris could feel his body sway gently, yet he rested against something firm. He could feel motion. It was a slow sway that made his stomach dip. Beneath him and against him was something solid, steady.

Warm.

Comforting.

It reminded him of childhood, of being half-asleep in his father’s arms on the way to bed after falling asleep on the couch. That same hazy comfort, the sense that if he just let go, someone else would take care of the rest. It almost made Chris sink back into the dark.

Yet it wasn't sleep. He'd been out cold. It felt like only a second but he was well aware it could be days. The sound of footsteps reached him again, a steady tap against Enterprise's pristine floors. It was louder now, yet still measured. Purposeful. Chris would know the sound of his XO's footsteps anywhere. Even in this post blackout phase.

Light pressed through his eyelids, too bright, forcing a low wince. Chris tried to lift his head but it lolled against a shoulder—hers, he realized with dawning mortification.
Una was carrying him.

Again.

His throat scraped as he tried to speak, mouth too dry, tongue uncooperative. The sound came out rough, almost a groan.

“Nuuumber… Ooone…”

The syllables dragged, sluggish and thick. Chris hadn’t meant it to sound like that, hadn’t meant to sound so small.

He felt, rather than saw, her answering shift. There was the tightening of her grip, the faintest exhale through her nose.

“You're alright, Captain. Just stay still.” Una murmured, voice low but firm, Chris' first officer keeping him from unraveling.

The rhythm of her steps was hypnotic.

For a moment Chris closed his eyes again, just for a second.

Then, he tried to get up despite how frustratingly weak he felt. Muscles that should have obeyed him barely twitched, the effort dragging a tremor through his limbs. Pride pushed harder than reason.

“I can—” The words slipped out before he even realized he was speaking. He could what? Walk on his own? Pretend he wasn’t half-conscious in his first officer’s arms? Not in this state he couldn’t.

"Shut up, Chris." The rebuke was enough for him to fall silent. Chris rested his head back against her shoulder, his breathing steadying. He closed his eyes again.

The rhythm of movement lulled Chris, the muted thud of boots and the soft hum of the deck slipping into a slow, almost musical pattern. It pulled at the edges of his awareness, coaxing him back toward the dark. It was the kind of quiet that promised rest if he just stopped fighting it.

He might have gone under again if not for her voice, cutting through the haze.

"Almost there."

Not long after the hiss of the sickbay doors reached him. Chris winced at the lighting above again, or maybe it was the sound that was too loud.

M'Benga's calm tenor cut through the haze and momentary pain. "Bring him over here." He felt her change course, walking over to the row of biobeds closer to his CMO's office. That must be where M'Benga had set up shop this time.

I collapsed on the turbolift, The captain thought distantly. Una needs to know something. What was it?

Frustration flared under the fog, his thoughts crawling like a bad connection trying to reestablish itself. Everything felt slow. His mind, his breathing, even the beat of his heart.
Chris became aware of being lowered onto something cool and smooth.

The biobed.

Sickbay.

A distant murmur of voices. M’Benga’s calm tone, Una’s clipped replies. It blurred into background noise.

"I'm fine." Chris argued weakly. His fingers grasped the mattress beneath him. His voice even sounded weak and he scowled unhappily.

What's happening to me?

As if to prove it he tried to sit up. Chris trembled with the effort and he argued again that he was fine. Hands steadied him—M’Benga’s sure, Una’s firm but brief. For a moment he couldn’t tell which belonged to who.

Did I just imagine that?

Una…his steadfast and loyal Number One.

There was something she needed to know and try as he might he just could not remember it. It was right there, at the tip of his tongue and yet it kept eluding him.

Everything started slowly snapping back into crispness. The fuzzy edges disappeared. As they did so, he was aware of M'Benga scanning him again. He watched him work. "You should have told someone you were this poor off." Chris heard him say.

He felt Una's thumb against his arm. With his focus on M'Benga waving that damn thing in his face he hadn't seen if it was truly her.

"Didn't think it was that bad." His voice was strengthening, yet it still sounded raw, hoarse. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. Chris was aware it didn't reach his eyes. "Guess I was wrong."

The Captain watched his first officer's jaw tense. "You should've at least told me." It held more meaning to both of them than just the chain of command. More than just shipmaster and number one. He winced as the words stung sharper than any hypospray. Chris knew she was right. He should've told her. Damn his stubborn pride sometimes.

The accusatory words made him turn his head to look at her. Immediately guilt flooded him as he saw the worry and hurt.

He took a breath before saying, "Didn't want you worrying." It came out more slurred than he'd hoped. Emotion intermingled with his current state. Well, too late for that. He thought morosely.
Chris couldn't tell if his CMO was politely ignoring their moment, or if he was just that enthralled in his work. With Joseph, it could've been both. That damn scanner was in his face again. With annoyance he fought the urge to bat it out of the way, knowing he'd only get another reprimand. It seemed childish, anyway.

"Have you been having any other symptoms? Any other collapses?"

He debated on how much to tell.

The dizziness, the nausea he had no qualms about telling. Other things…they seemed so bizarre yet so normal at the same time Chris wondered if it was just rebound from the fever. The bloating he'd noticed that morning (if he'd been out only momentarily that is). The sensitivity to light. Chris ultimately decided to keep those to himself especially with Una at his side. It didn't feel right to discuss such things with Una there.

Maybe if he were alone he'd spill, but for now he decided on telling the bare minimum.

Chris turned his gaze to the ceiling, wincing at the bright sickbay lights again. The lights were unbearable, but he kept that regular mask up. They couldn't know something was wrong. Well, something more anyway. They weren't just bright to Chris, but sharp. Too sharp.

Even with his eyes half-closed, the glare pressed through his lids, turning everything a washed-out white. Chris tried blinking, but each time he opened his eyes the world fractured: ceiling panels too clean, too smooth, edges bleeding into one another.

A dull ache began behind his eyes, small at first, then pulsing in rhythm with the overhead fixtures. The hum of the lights joined in, a low vibration that crawled up the base of his skull.

He tried to focus on M’Benga’s voice, on Una’s faint shadow beside him, but the glow fractured around them. Edges looked too sharp, colors too thin. Each time Chris blinked, the ceiling lights flared and the ache deepened until it felt like someone was tightening a band behind his temples.

Chris turned his head away, searching for a pocket of shade that did not exist. The afterimage clung stubbornly to his vision, a hot smear of white that throbbed with his heartbeat.

He exhaled softly, the lie forming before the pain fully ebbed. "Nothing serious. Lightheaded, nausea." It wasn't a lie exactly, but it wasn't the whole truth. He wondered if it was enough to keep them from looking closer.

From the corner of his vision he saw Una narrow her eyes. Chris still avoided meeting her gaze. He distantly wondered if she saw the wince.
"Captain, you collapsed on the bridge. That's not a little nothing." M'Benga said.

Ouch.

The words landed heavier than they should have. Chris knew the doctor was right, knew he sounded ridiculous trying to play it off, but the reprimand still made something in him bristle. Years of command instinct didn’t die easy.

The throb behind his eyes dulled by degrees, easing with every slow breath. Maybe it was the doctor’s tone, calm and certain, or maybe his body was finally catching up to the rest it had been fighting.
Chris swallowed carefully, the dryness in his throat scraping like static. The ache wasn’t gone, not completely, but it was distant now. It was more muted, manageable.

The words brought back that nagging feeling, the one Chris couldn’t shake since waking. There was something Una needed to know. Something important. It hovered just out of reach, taunting him from the fog.

What was it?

"Technically," He replied in a rough voice. "It was the turbolift."

"You can downplay this later if you like, but for now I need the truth." Shit, he was actually pushing this time.

"Chris let out a tired breath, half a laugh, half defeat. His instinct was to make light of it, but the look in M’Benga’s eyes stopped him. The doctor wasn’t asking for protocol’s sake; he was asking as someone who’d seen too many officers work themselves into the ground.

The ceiling lights blurred again as Chris blinked up at them, their brightness duller now but still sharp around the edges. “Guess you caught me there,” he said finally, the words quiet. “Didn’t want to make a fuss. Figured it’d pass.”

"Yet here we are." M'Benga said. Chris huffed a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. "Yeah, here we are." The words felt heavier than they should have, like even speaking took effort. He blinked once, then again, fighting the pull of sleep.

Stars, he was so tired.

"You scared the bridge." Una huffed, causing Chris' gaze to meet her's. Chris looked up, meeting her eyes. Her expression was controlled, but he knew that look. The faint line between her brows, the breath she took before speaking again. He’d seen it a hundred times when she was worried and didn’t want to show it.

Mortification prickled under his skin. Chris had meant to reassure his crew, not make a scene, let Una know something. Now here he was, half-propped on a biobed, feeling about as commanding as a cadet after his first failed sim.

Her voice softened, though her posture didn't. "You don't have anything to prove to any of us, Chris. Don't push yourself so hard."

The ache behind his eyes was almost gone now, replaced by a dull heaviness in his chest that had nothing to do with fever or exhaustion. She was right, and they both knew it.
"I'd like to keep him under observation. It could all just be leftovers from the fever, or it could be something worse."

Chris noticed the quick look his first officer and CMO exchanged. It was brief but loaded, something unspoken passing between them that he couldn’t name. There was something knowing in it, yet what it was Chris couldn't name. Chris trusted both of them, so he didn't ask what that was about.

Oh, hell no. Cold dread built up in Chris' chest despite him knowing it was best. He hated being in sickbay so often, but it was even worse knowing he'd be stuck here. Still, Chris could see the logic too. He was mildly annoyed that he didn't seem to have a say in the situation, yet he knew it was for his own good.

"Observation sounds good."

Chris noticed the amusement curve Una's mouth just slightly. Not smug, just amused. The kind of look she gave him when she knew she'd won an argument.

Chris fought the urge to sigh, He hated being here again. There were memories of Marie everywhere here, ghosts that followed him even still. Not just that, but sickbay was too bright, ,too clean, and too quiet. No hum of the bridge, no command chatter, no console pings to drown out his own thoughts. The stillness here left him with nowhere to hide from the ghosts of yesterday.

"When he's cleared he'll be in his quarters?"

M'Benga nodded. "He's still technically off the roster for the week.

Chris listened without speaking. It felt strange listening to them discuss him like he wasn't even there. He knew, however, that any complaints would be met with a correction. He also knew that it was for the best, whatever his complaints may be. Whatever was going on with him wasn't normal. If they could figure out what it was while he was under observation then maybe it would be worth it.

"Good. Oh, and Chris?"

Dread pooled in his chest. That tone never meant anything good.

"Yeah?"

There was that thing. That thing that Una needed to know. He fought hard to try and remember what it was, cursing his sluggish mind.
"If you pull that again I'll personally change who has access to the bridge temporarily."

 

Chris blinked, the faintest flicker of indignation crossing his face before he caught the humor in her tone. “You wouldn’t,” he said, though the way his voice dipped betrayed the doubt.

 

Una arched an eyebrow.

 

He sighed, shoulders slumping against the biobed. The mattress beneath was comfortable enough, but it lacked the warmth of a nice, cozy bed.
“You would.”

That earned him the smallest quirk of her mouth. It was almost a smile. With that Chris knew she was…well, mostly teasing. He felt something in his chest ease at the sight. That tiny shift of expression was as close as Una ever got to reassurance, and it was enough. The room felt a little less cold, the light a little less harsh.

 

“Message received, Number One,” he murmured, voice softer now. “I’ll behave.”

He noticed M'Benga's amusement with a scowl. Pike had seen that look a hundred times before, usually aimed at officers who didn’t know when to stay down. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end.
Chris drew a breath of dry air and antiseptic, sharp enough to sting the back of his throat. His body was tired in a way that one good night's rest didn't seem to fix. The kind of exhaustion that made thought slippery. Every time he tried to chase the memory of the thing Una needed to know it drifted away like static.

"What was it you thought was so important it couldn't wait?" Una asked as remained at his bedside.

The question hung in the air.

He blinked, brow furrowing. What was it? The words fluttered just beyond reach, teasing the edges of consciousness. He could almost see it. The PADD in his hand as he scrolled through the most recent notification. There'd been something urgent, something he needed to tell her.

Chris swallowed, his throat rough. Come on, think!

There was nothing for a moment. Just the hum of machinery and lights and the weight of fatigue threatening to drag him under again. Chris was frustrated at how his mind was like sludge, every thought dragging through molasses. Certainly not what a starship captain needed. He tried to focus on the faint rumble of Enterprise's engines, trying to anchor his thoughts the way he would during turbulence. The sound only reminded him of how still he was.

Chris' vision blurred for a second. The sickbay lights seemed to shimmer, their sterilee glow bending golden at the edges. He shut his eyes, trying to push past the haze. There had been something in that notification on that PADD he'd meant to tell his XO. He remembered being on that turbolift, leaning against the wall. Reaching out to bridge the gap between that and his first officer, only to meet darkness.

It felt important.

Urgent, even.

The kind of thing that needed saying now, not after a rest, not once he'd been cleared by his CMO.

Then, something sparked.

A flash of memory. The PADD, the blue notification light. The message from April.

Oh, right.

Chris' ice blue eyes opened, heavy-lidded but clearer now.

That was it.

M'Benga looked down at him, knowing that expression of dawning realization. He was curious, just as Una was.

"Inspection," Chris said at last, voice rough but sure. "Just got the notification that Admiral April will be here next week."

The words left him with a strange sense of satisfaction. It was as though remembering had proven he was still himself. Chris let his head fall back, the tension easing from his shoulders. For the first time since waking, he felt something close to his normal self again.

Chris watched Una exhaled slowly through her nose, crossing her arms. “You nearly passed out on the bridge, and you’re worried about an inspection?”

Chris looked sheepish. The captain could feel the tips of his ears warming, though whether from embarrassment or the last dregs of the fever he wasn't sure. He told himself it was the fever.
Una shook her head, a quiet huff escaping her. “We’ll handle the inspection. You just focus on following orders for once.”

Her tone carried the faintest lilt of humor, but her eyes stayed fixed on him. She was giving him an out, not twisting the knife. Still, it made Chris squirm.

"Loud and clear." Chris responded roughly.

Joseph didn't comment. The hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. The doctor focused on the results of the scan above him, clearly trying to be polite. It was hard to ignore the situation, however, being so close.

M'Benga glanced at the monitor. "Rest," said Una, her voice surprisingly soft. "That's an order."

The light caught on her hair for a moment as she glanced down at him. She'd already shifted back into that professional mask, but he could see the edges of fatigue there too. Chris had experienced enough crises to know what it looked like when she refused to rest herself.

"Acknowledged, Number One." Replied Chris, already sinking back into the biobed.

The weight of her authority still carried comfort even though she was keeping him grounded when he didn't deserve it. Chris sank deeper into the biobed, letting the faint rumble of the engines and her familiar cadence settle him.

"Good. Because if you’re not fit by next week, Admiral April’s inspection will be the least of your problems.” She teased.

His quiet laugh followed her as she turned to leave, the sound thin but real.

Una shook her head as she turned to leave.

The captain watched his first officer go, unable to stop himself. Even through the haze of fatigue there was something grounding about her presence. The way she moved with that calm, measured certainty, every motion precise.

The light caught at Una's hair as the doors hissed open, a faint glow of silver before she disappeared into the corridor. He smiled faintly to himself. Leave it to Una to look composed even after dragging her captain out of a turbolift.

"Still got it, Number One." He murmured softly under his breath.

Silence settled in her wake, soft but noticeable. Chris let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing now that the exchange was over. The biobed hummed softly beneath him.
He glanced towards Joseph who was already preparing a set of hyposprays with his usual calm precision. Supposedly those were the ones to help with his awful nausea and dizziness.

To M'Benga he said, "I promise to not…" What had Una joked about? "I promise to not redecorate your floor."

Joseph's low chuckle broke through the silence as he pressed a hypospray into Chris' shoulder. The hiss of medication was soft but sharp, followed by a cold spreading under his skin. Chris winced. "Hopefully with these you won't anyway. In any case, I would not take great offense if you did. This one's for vertigo."

"Good to know my captaincy's still worth that much mercy." Chris joked weakly.

Joseph chuckled as Chris watched him switch to the other hypospray, bracing himself for the sting. "This one's for the nausea." The second injection came with a sharper sting that left him rubbing his shoulder, but the relief was almost immediate. The queasiness that had been sitting under his ribs started to loosen its hold.

"Better?" His CMO asked as he studied the readings.

"Getting there," Chris replied with a quieter voice. "Still not my favorite way to spend a day."

Joseph smiled faintly. "You'll live, Captain. Try not to make a habit of collapsing in the turbolift, eh?"

The Captain let out a low laugh, eyes half-closed again. "No promises."

His eyes traced the pattern of ceiling panels, following the faint seam where one light strip met another. The glare wasn’t as bad now, but the brightness still had edges. He blinked until the lines blurred together, letting the shapes dissolve into soft white haze.

Chris' mind began to drift. Yet the next hour blurred at the edges without the promise of sleep. He shifted his weight slightly, pulling the blanket higher with an almost embarrassed motion. It felt too scratchy for his liking.

A voice broke through the silence that pulled him back. "Try to rest, Captain." It was Joseph's low and empathetic voice cutting through.

Chris blinked at the sound. Joseph was standing by the monitor again, arms folded but his gaze calm and watchful.

"That's the plan." He murmured.

Chris watched Joseph dim the lights without a word. The brightness dimmed to a softer wash, leaving the room bathed in shadows. They stretched along the floor, sharp lines of biobeds blurring at the edges.
"Better?"

"Almost feels like you've done this before." Chris teased with a nod.

"Maybe once or twice." He shrugged with quiet amusement. "Do you want something to help with sleep?"

"Might not be a bad idea. Too many ghosts in here." Chris reluctantly admitted, decidedly avoiding looking at Joseph's office.

Joseph nodded with understanding and left, coming back with a new hypospray. This one was smaller, the vial inside faintly amber.

"I think I'm preaching to the choir when I say this one's for rest." He chuckled lowly, his tone even. There was no room for debate.

"Alright, let's get this done with." Chris grumbled, not thrilled at having been a pin cushion today. The hiss was soft like the others as Joseph swiftly pressed it into his shoulder. This time warmth flooded through his body and spread down into his limbs. The beep of the biobed's heart rate grew slower, deeper to him.

Within a few breaths, the edges of the room began to blur. The lights softened, the antiseptic stench fading into something distant.The room overall felt softer, somehow. The lights a little less sharp, the air easier to breathe. As Chris' thoughts began to slow he could almost believe he'd be back on the bridge in no time.
Almost.

Chapter Text

Time had flowed very slow for the Captain of the Enterprise for the last week. Chris had never been one for being patient, but he'd endured it. It had helped that Una visited whenever she could as had the other crew members.

 

Chris had spent almost every day with her. They planned out inspection and figured out where improvement was needed. It didn't matter that he was technically off-duty. A captain never got a true day off, especially out here. The anxiety from it hung over him the entire time and made his skin crawl.

 

He was definitely looking forward to being back in the chair with some resemblance of normalcy.

 

During his time off Chris had watched the security footage that Una had pulled after his collapse. For the life of him he could not remember what had happened. He remembered the incident on the bridge earlier that day (who could forget that?), cooking for Una, but anything after…It was just a blur.

 

Not trusting his own strength just yet the Captain had decided on breakfast in the galley today. He'd eaten there several times over the last week much to his annoyance. Chris figured perhaps a show in uniform would help boost the crew's morale.

 

"Computer, time?" Asked Chris as he stood in front of his mirror, making a few final adjustments to his hair.

 

"0530."

 

Good, he still had time and wouldn't have to rush breakfast.

 

Chris had woken that morning wide awake, restless, and maybe a little excited. He missed being in the chair and Joseph had cleared him for duty the prior morning.

 

He already had his uniform shirt on and was dressed. It didn't make sense to get dressed after doing his hair as it would only mess it up. Chris leaned forward and turned on the faucet to wash his hands, studying at the man in the mirror.

 

The man who stared back looked normal enough. It was easy to glance over the faint shadows under his eyes. The tension drawn tight at the corners of his mouth. No one would notice unless they were looking for it.

 

The reflection blurred when a wave of nausea hit him. It was sudden and brutal, worse than phaser fire on stun. Chris' left hand shot out and he locked his fingers around the edge of the cool sink, knuckles whitening against the porcelain.

 

He pressed a hand to his stomach, feeling the deep twist inside. The air in the room thickened, too warm, too sharp. He breathed through it, slow and steady.

 

It rolled, but Chris swallowed against it. The nausea hit again in a second wave that almost drove him to his knees. He gagged once, twice, three times and then his stomach emptied itself into the sink. He braced himself against the edge of the sink, right hand clutched across his middle, riding the wave until it spent itself.

 

There wasn't much there as Chris had just woken up. It was all bile and stomach acid. The stench making him wince. His stomach lurched again, but there was nothing left this time, leaving him dry heaving for a few minutes.

 

As it passed it left him weaker than he would've liked. Chris ran the faucet again, using the water, splashing the cool liquid on his face. He rinsed his mouth out, wincing at the taste. Chris then turned off the faucet and righted himself.

 

He stared back at the man in the mirror again, breathing heavier this time.

 

Pull it together, Chris ordered himself roughly, forcing his hands steady on the sink. You're fine.

 

From there Chris adjusted his collar, trying to tell himself that again but it felt…hollow. Not quite the truth. Joseph had cleared him for duty. The captain hadn't been sick or collapsed in a few days now which left him with hope that he'd left it all behind.

 

This morning proved him wrong.

 

"Computer, time?" He asked, his throat raw, his voice rougher than intended.

 

"0600."

 

Alpha didn't start until 0800. If Chris' stomach played along he would have time for a leisurely breakfast.

 

The Captain tugged his tunic down, trying to debate whether to make his own or to visit the galley. Much to his annoyance the tunic didn't quite sit right. The fabric clung in places it shouldn't; it rode up just enough to make him tug at it again.

 

Chris frowned.

 

Maybe he'd lost muscle during the week off; recovery sometimes had a way of softening people. Still, the faint tightness across his middle was new. He pressed his palm there for a second, feeling the subtle resistance under the fabric and let out a quiet breath.

 

C'mon, get it together. He chided himself, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's nothing coffee can't fix, anyway." He said out loud to no one.

 

Chris hoped that no one would notice the…changes. To see him back in uniform might just be enough of a boost to put some pep back in his crewmates' step after his last collapse.

 

Chris gave his shirt a final tug, swallowing back the lingering queasiness. He glanced over at the hypospray that M'Benga had given him yesterday. It was to help with that and he half wondered if he should use it. Pride won over and he decided against it and he left it there on the counter.

 

With that, the Captain of the Enterprise left his quarters, the doors hissing shut behind him with a certain finality.

 

The trip to the galley wasn't far, but his stride felt off.

 

Chris frowned when he noticed, accidentally overcompensating and stumbling. He caught himself on the bulkhead, grateful that nobody had seen that misstep. He wondered if the inertial dampers were off today. He'd have to check that out since April was to start his inspection today.

 

Nothing could be amiss.

 

He righted himself and continued on, tugging down his tunic again. Soon enough the galley doors were in sight and he walked in.

 

Chris hoped he would have no further slip ups. He couldn't afford to mess up at all over the next few weeks that April was here under inspection. He walked over to the replicator.

 

"Hot, black coffee. Smoked salmon on a bagel with cream cheese." Hopefully that would be simple enough that his stomach wouldn't revolt.

 

Coffee fixed everything, right?

 

He reached for the cup and plate just as a voice croaked behind him, “You’re way too chipper for 0600, Captain.”

 

The Captain startled, jumping. Since when have I become so jumpy? He wondered to himself. He turned around to come face to face with an Erica Ortegas who was more asleep than awake. He knew the pilot had never been a morning person despite working Alpha.

 

Chris turned back round to grab his plate and coffee and side stepped out of the way. "Good morning to you too." He said, his voice warm and amused. Definitely chipper.

 

Erica just muttered something under her breath, ordering her own mug of coffee with a double shot of espresso alongside breakfast.

 

Chris chuckled to himself as he walked over to one of the booths.

 

Chris tried not to look at the nebula outside, but the pull of it was impossible to ignore. The swirling light caught in the window’s curve, gold bleeding into blue. That weird sensation had been oddly silent of late. Now that he was in full view of the nebula, however, it was back.

 

He found himself staring, coffee cooling in his hand, until movement startled him. Erica brushed by him without noticing on her way to pick out a table.

 

The captain blinked, refocused, and slid into the booth opposite her, deliberately turning his back to the stellar nursery as if it had offended him.

 

"I've always wondered how you're able to arrive on the bridge awake when you are clearly not a morning person." Chris said, amusement coloring his tone as he tried to shake off what just happened.

 

Erica stared uncomprehendingly at him from across the table, bent over her own plate as she'd been just about to start eating. It took her a few seconds before, "Coffee. Lots and lots of coffee."

 

"And several shots of espresso too, if I'm not mistaken." Said their security chief as she walked by, overhearing the conversation. Erica raised up one finger and jerked it in a, "that's it" way before returning to drink said coffee.

 

La'an paused as if only now noticing that her captain was back in uniform. "Good to have you back, sir." Chris nodded with one of his warm smiles. "Glad to be back. Time off never did agree with me."

 

La’an moved off toward the replicator, leaving him alone with his breakfast and the nebula beyond the glass.

 

Chris took a bite, slow and deliberate. The salmon was fine—good, even—but his stomach was already arguing. He washed it down with coffee, hoping the warmth would settle things.

 

The ship around Chris was still half-asleep, the quiet hum of life-support systems and low conversation from the night shift blending into something almost peaceful. Outside, the nebula shimmered faint gold.

 

He looked away, pretending it wasn’t tugging at him again.

 

La'an joined them next to Erica and he was glad for the extra company. Others started trickling in, giving their greetings to their captain as he picked away at the bagels. Eventually others of the command crew showed up. Uhura trickled in along with Spock shortly after her. They both sat at the table next to them.

 

There was one spot left and it was next to him. Chris eagerly awaited Una's arrival, but kept his mask about him, only about halfway through his first bagel.

 

He reached for his coffee before grabbing his bagel again, staring at it. The motion slowed when his stomach gave a faint, warning twist. He stared at it for a moment, weighing whether another bite was worth the risk. Despite having things like replicators now, Chris hated the idea of wasting food.

 

Chris kept his mask firmly in place. He refused to show any outward sign of something wrong. The first few chews were a test, his body deciding whether to cooperate. It did—barely. He washed it down with a swallow of coffee and kept going.

 

A flash of gold caught his eye at the galley entrance. Not the nebula outside. It was Una, sweeping her gaze across the crowd that had grown over the last half hour.

 

For a second, everything else blurred out. She always carried herself like she owned gravity itself; even half the room turned subtly toward her without realizing it. Chris felt the familiar tug in his chest, quiet but absolute.

 

Chris straightened a little in his seat, suddenly aware of the coffee ring on his tray, the half-finished bagel, the fact that he looked more like a man recovering from the flu than the captain of the Enterprise.

 

Didn’t matter. She was here, and the air felt easier to breathe.

 

Chris let out the breath he wasn't aware he was holding and almost sheepishly crunched down on the bagel. Una caught his look and her face seemed to light up. She didn't head over immediately, but rather over to the matter synthesizer to get her own breakfast. Chris watched Una, forgetting about the bagel in his hand or the churn in his stomach. She walked over calmly, hands grasping the tray.

 

That was when he caught Erica's amused expression peering at him from over the rim of her mug.

 

Embarrassment flooded Chris and he looked away. Leave it to Erica to pick up on all things relationship.

 

“So…” she drawled, one brow raised. “You two done anything more than those little date nights yet?”

 

Chris nearly choked on his coffee. “Lieutenant.”

 

Erica grinned, all sleepy mischief. “What? Everyone’s rooting for you two. Might as well make it official. Weeeelll," She drawled, rubbing a hand through her hair. "As official as you can make it without the brass getting all huffy."

 

“Eat your breakfast,” He muttered, but his ears were a little too red to sell the command.

 

"Aye, aye, skipper." Replied the pilot, promptly setting down her mug and taking another bite of her breakfast. It was slow and deliberate, eyes still watching the captain in front of her.

 

If Spock and Uhura overheard next door neither gave any sign they had.

 

Erica gave him a knowing look when Una sat down next to him and pretended to focus on her breakfast.

 

"Not hungry, Captain?" Una asked. Almost self consciously Chris crunched at his bagel again, swallowing the last bite of the first one.

 

"Just pacing myself."

 

Chris took another bite to prove his appetite was fine. The moment he swallowed, a slow warmth stirred low in his gut. It wasn't painful, just wrong. It spread outward, a dull ache that wasn’t quite nausea, wasn’t quite anything.

 

He pressed a palm against the edge of the table, waiting for it to fade. Maybe he’d eaten too fast. Maybe it was just his stomach still protesting after the last few days. Either way, he forced another sip of coffee, determined to ignore it.

 

Chris was aware of Una watching him, but she kept it discreet. The clock ticked towards 0645. It seemed they still had quite a bit of time to kill before their 0800 Alpha shift.

 

"Are you sure you’re ready for a full day of paperwork and inspection?” Una asked between bites, one brow arched.

 

It was direct, but discreet enough that no one else at the table would think twice. Chris caught the real question beneath it. The one she couldn’t ask here, not with the rest of the bridge crew within earshot.

 

He met her gaze over the rim of coffee mug. "Been looking forward to it all week,” Chris said with a half-smile, biting into the bagel again. The crunch covered the hesitation in his voice. He forced the rest down, the swallow harder than it should’ve been, and left the second one untouched almost regretting it.

 

Una set her fork down, noticing the look. "You don't have to finish it." She pointed out. Chris was aware of how odd it was for him to not finish his food, but the thought of the second bagel made his stomach churn threateningly.

 

He shook his head. "Don't want it to go to waste." He sipped the last of his coffee.

 

Erica seemed to perk up, decidedly more awake than before. "Hey, if you don't want it I'll take it."

 

La’an glanced over from her tray. “You already had your breakfast, Erica.”

 

“Yeah, and I’m still growing,” The pilot shot back, grinning.

 

Uhura smothered a laugh behind her cup. “Into what, exactly?”

 

Even Spock’s eyebrow twitched. “An anomaly, perhaps.”

 

Laughter rippled across the table. Chris used it to breathe, grateful for the noise, the normalcy.

 

Erica chuckled to herself, setting the bagel down as she finished her mug. She got up and walked over to the replicator and ordered more before soon returning to crunch down on it as she sat again.

 

"Are you sure that amount of caffeine is wise to consume?" Spock asked which earned him a silent glare from the pilot. Chris chuckled and glanced at the chronometer on the wall. It didn't feel like it'd been long, but it read 0715.

 

"Well, regardless you have half an hour to down that mug." He pointed out as he finished his. As he set it down he noticed the jitterbug his hand making it clink softly with a frown. He thought he'd been much stronger, even back to normal now.

 

With a sense of dread he noticed Una looking at it too.

 

"Plenty of time, Captain." Erica said with a shrug, sipping on the scalding liquid.

 

With a single look from Una, Chris knew she could tell something was up. He dreaded that particular conversation as he had no idea what it was himself. He refused to let it get in the way of his first day back.

 

The galley started clearing out, officers and yeomen heading to their stations. Eventually, command crew started doing the same. La'an excused herself to go run through the security detail for April's arrival. Spock soon followed with Uhura. "See you on the bridge, sir." She told him.

 

Erica rose last, glancing between him and Una. From her grin, he could tell she knew exactly what was coming. "Whelp, I'm out. Good luck captain." She said jovially patting his shoulder before leaving.

 

Chris frowned after her while Una looked baffled which was rare.

 

"What was that about?" She asked aloud and he shook his head. "I have no idea." Chris responded. He rose with his plate in hand, steeling himself for what he wanted to ask.

 

Why am I so nervous about this? We've been dating for months now if not longer!

 

"Uh…Do you want to get together tonight?" He asked, looking sheepish.

 

Una blinked and looked up at him. She rose to stand, her tray in hand. "Despite Admiral April being here? That's bold, even for you, Chris." He winced, knowing she was right.

 

"Y-you don't have to." By now the galley was empty. It was just them.

 

The words died when she stepped closer. The galley was empty now, the hum of the ship the only sound.

 

Una kissed him. It was soft, brief, and sure. He leaned into it before he could think better of it, a quiet exhale catching between them. All too soon Una pulled back. "Of course I do. Your quarters?"

 

"A-actually I was thinking the observation lounge. 2000 maybe?"

 

His XO nodded with a smile on her face. "See you there."

 

Chris watched her dispose of the tray.

 

They walked out of the galley, both with their masks pulled down and composed as ever. No one would even know that kiss had happened.

 

The walk to the turbolift was relatively uneventful. Chris tugged down his tunic once or twice which drew a sharp look from Una but she said nothing about it. He almost dreaded the turbolift, stiffening a little as he remembered last time.

 

The pair walked inside. Una was closest to the handle. She gripped it. "Bridge." And the lift whirred to life.

 

The lift hummed, and his skull seemed to hum with it. A low, electric buzz filled his head, threading behind his eyes until it drowned out thought. Chris blinked hard, trying to shake it loose.

 

He swayed ever so lightly and steadied himself against the bulkhead.

 

"Captain?"

 

He looked up. "I'm fine." He argued. "Probably just residue from the fever." Hopefully.

 

Una dropped the subject as he straightened. The lift stopped and the bridge opened to them with a gentle cacophony of noise. It soothed Chris. He walked out onto the pristine bridge to the boatswain's whistle and someone calling, "Captain on deck!"

 

As he stepped onto that bridge the lights flicker on his way over. He sat down before glancing up with a brief frown. Una looked up as well before they shared a look. "Huh, I thought we'd had that sorted out."

 

Spock looked up from his console. “A minor variance in the EPS grid, Captain. Within acceptable limits.”

 

Chris exhaled, letting the tension roll off with a wry smile. “Good. Let’s keep it that way. The last thing we need is Admiral April arriving to a light show.”

 

A few chuckles rippled across the bridge. He leaned back in the chair, letting his voice carry just enough to reach everyone.

 

“I know inspections aren’t anyone’s favorite way to spend a few weeks, but April’s here to make sure this ship—and the people running it—are as sharp as they’ve always been. We’ve been through worse than a few checklists.”

 

His tone softened. “He’s not coming to catch us out. He’s coming to make sure we’re still the best crew in the fleet. So, let’s show him we are.”

 

The words settled easily over the bridge. Una glanced over, one corner of her mouth lifting.

 

“Now,” Chris said, the warmth returning to his grin, “let’s get this inspection started before he decides to do it himself.”

 

Beside him Chris could see a brief flash of a faint smile on Una's lips. The lips just ten minutes before his had been touching. "Good to have you back, Captain." She said and he watched her walk over to ops and sit down. The captain hadn't realized just how much he'd missed this. Not just her presence, but the rhythm of command.

 

"Hey, did anyone else receive a notif about a new starship class?" Asked Erica as she leaned back in her chair. There wasn't much for her to do except holding the ship steady with minor corrections.

 

“That is correct,” Spock said from Sciences, hardly glancing up from his console. “Tregurtha-class. Aside from the Tregurtha herself, the Fitzgerald is the first of her line and currently undergoing sea trials.”

 

Erica perked up. "I heard she has four warp nacelles. Former Cardenas class."

 

From beside her Una raised an eyebrow. "I never took you to be an expert on new starships."

 

The pilot shrugged. "I only study badasses and the captain of that ship is one. I read that during the Klingon war she saved 109 souls taking complete command to buy time." She said.

 

Before anyone could respond Uhura called from comms, "Fitzgerald reports their ETA is five minutes out, captain."

 

"Thank you, cadet." Chris said with a chuckle. Leave it to Erica to be a starship expert.

 

"That report's heavily redacted." He pointed out, leaning against the armchair. Unexpected guilt flooded him. Enterprise had been sidelined during the Klingon War on a five year expedition. Kat had once told him it had been to preserve Starfleet's finest; that they couldn't loose them should the Federation have fallen. He still remained uncertain about that.

 

Erica shrugged with a grin over her shoulder. "Eh, word gets around, sir."

 

Uhura’s report still echoed in his mind—five minutes until arrival.

 

Or at least, that’s what she’d said.

 

Because when he looked up again, the Fitzgerald was already there, dropping out of warp. Beside her followed two smaller ships. They reminded him of the U.S.S Archer, but he realized they were so much more heavily equipped. They practically bristled with armament if the viewscreen was correct. The U.S.S Spitfire, the Corsair, and the Raptor. It seemed overkill to him, but Starfleet was jumpy after the Klingon War.

 

The sleek, refitted ship hung off the starboard bow, four nacelles glinting like blades against the nebula’s light. For a heartbeat, Chris wasn’t sure if he’d zoned out or if time had simply… skipped.

 

Erica was in awe, practically drooling over the sight of the shiny new vessel just out of space dock. Heads turned to get first glimpses of the new Tregurtha-class starship.

 

Her hull was long and sharp-edged, the angles of an older warship softened beneath the smooth plating of a modern refit. The saucer gleams pale silver under the distant sun, flattened and broad, its rim catching the light in a slow, clean halo. Beneath it, the secondary hull narrowed to a prow that could split nebular gas like water, the faint lines of her Cardenas ancestry still ghosting through the newer metal.

 

The pylons sweep back in a four-point X, poised like the wings of a bird about to strike. At their ends, the nacelles burn with cold blue energy. To Chris the seams looked alive with light, outer casings matte and dark. Every so often, the field arcs softly between them, a breath of luminescence that hints at the power coiled inside.

 

Chris noticed her impulse housings glow a deep amber, their radiance tracing over the hull’s subtle scoring. Old scars from an earlier life left purposefully untouched.

 

The captain noticed that she looked like she’s meant to move fast, to hit hard, and to keep going long after her peers would limp home. A ship built from the bones of an older fighter and reborn for exploration, still carrying the memory of the storm she once weathered.

 

Overall he was pretty impressed with what he saw.

 

"Clean up that look, Erica," Chris teased as he stood, tugging down his tunic. "We've got an admiral inbound and I need you to look like you actually work here." He said lightly. Erica chuckled, but schooled her expression. "Aye, aye sir."

 

The Captain walked in front of them, hands behind his back.

 

"The U.S.S Fitzgerald is hailing us, sir." Uhura called.

 

"On screen."

Chapter Text

"The U.S.S Fitzgerald is hailing us, sir." Uhura called from comms. She didn't raise her voice, yet her words snapped across the bridge.

 

Chris pushed up to his feet. The motion sent a small, mean ache up the left side of his back. It was the kind that made him want to breathe through his teeth. He kept the wince buried as he stood up.

 

He noticed, just for a heartbeat, how the nebula seemed to change. It was usually all golds and reds and warm yellows. It was steady, familiar in its own eerie way. Now those colors thinned like breath on glass, replaced by slow curls of green that threaded through the cloudbanks. Blues rose behind them in sweeping arcs, cool and deep, shot through with faint strokes of violet that shimmered then bled back into the dark.

 

It didn’t move like normal ion drift. The pattern folded in on itself, rolling in a way that suggested intention rather than turbulence. The shift threw a strange cast across the bridge, tinting the metal handrails in pale green, painting the floor plates in watery blue. His reflection in the console glass picked up a faint halo of color. It was there, then gone as the nebula reshaped itself again.

 

For a fraction of a second it almost looked alive.

 

Watching.

 

Testing the currents around it.

 

The moment passed, the colors settling into something steady enough that he could pretend it was just the radiation from the white dwarves acting up again. But the air felt different on his skin, charged in a way that made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end.

 

He breathed once, slow, and forced his focus back to the hail.

 

The captain crossed the bridge to stand in front of nav and ops with that familiar loose-shoulder stride that always read as energy from a distance. Up close, the rhythm wasn't quite right. His boots hit the polished deck a touch too lightly, as if he were compensating for something. The gait carried its usual confidence, but there was a guardedness in the set of his shoulders. A careful control of his breathing between the steps.

 

Chris moved like a man determined to look sharp even though his body whispered otherwise.

 

As he rounded the curve of the bridge he caught Una watching him. Her posture hadn't changed, but her attention had narrowed to him in an almost surgical way she had when things didn't add up.

 

Chris held that gaze for a fraction too long. Long enough to register the unspoken question behind her eyes.

 

From the other side of Una, Erica turned her head. She seemed to notice the quiet, but tense unspoken conversation. With a raised eyebrow Erica seemed to be asking, You good, Captain?, but for the moment Chris ignored her.

 

Another beat passed. The bridge hummed around them. Soft chatter, gentle beeps from scanning arrays, but none of it cut through the narrow band of tension stretching between him and Una. She didn’t push. She didn’t look away either.

 

He was the one who broke the contact, letting his gaze slide off to the viewscreen as if that had been his intention all along. Chris' shoulders eased into a command-set posture that fooled exactly no one who knew him.

 

Una’s eyes followed him for another heartbeat before she shifted her attention back to her station, movement crisp, controlled, but threaded with an alertness he recognized too well. She’d clocked him and she wasn’t letting it go.

 

Erica’s gaze lingered a second longer, thoughtful and sharper than her usual easy smirk. Then she returned to her controls, fingers subtly dancing over the display with practiced confidence, though he caught the faintest sideways glance checking for any further cracks in his composure.

 

Chris inhaled slowly, letting the breath settle somewhere deep enough not to show. The ache in his back crept up another notch. It was small, pointed, insistent.

 

And all at once the bridge felt just a shade too bright, too attentive, too aware.

 

Did everyone just notice that? He wondered with a hint of trepidation.

 

Chris pushed up his feet. The motion sent a small, mean ache up the left side of his back. It was the kind that made him want to breathe through his teeth. He kept the wince buried as he stood up.

 

The captain crossed the bridge to stand in front of nav and ops with that familiar loose-shoulder stride that always read as energy from a distance. Up close, the rhythm wasn't quite right. His boots hit the polished deck a touch too lightly, as if he were compensating for something. The gait carried its usual confidence, but there was a guardedness in the set of his shoulders. A careful control of his breathing between the steps. Chris moved like a man determined to look sharp even though his body whispered otherwise.

 

As he rounded the curve of the bridge he caught Una watching him. Her posture hadn't changed, but her attention had narrowed to him in an almost surgical way she had when things didn't add up.

 

Chris held that gaze for a fraction too long. Long enough to register the unspoken question.

 

He looked away first.

 

Shit, she noticed. He wondered, but shoved it down. There'd be time for that later. For now, he needed to focus on good first impressions even if it was Admiral April running the inspection.

 

The lights flickered once across the bridge as he took his mark in front of the viewscreen, a faint dip in the power grid that made the hairs on his arms rise. Something in the nebula pressed once again at the back of his mind. Curious. Watching.

 

A few crewmen who were apt enough to notice the flicker looked up.

 

"On screen," He said.

 

The Fitzgerald's bridge snapped into existence. For a heartbeat Chris felt the last of that ache pulsed sharp before he shoved it down and let his expression settle into command. The crew or Admiral April did not need to see anything but that.

 

The first thing that caught Chris' eye was the Chair at the center of the bridge. It was noticeably different. Taller back that tapered off. It looked like…were those holes? Yes there were five of them, specifically placed on the left and right side of the backing and one where the back met the seat.

 

The rest of the bridge was much like Enterprise's and at the same time it wasn't. Held forward, command centered and stations in a clean arc on the outside. Everything about the room felt tighter, denser, built on older bones. The ceiling sat lower than most modern ships Chris had seen or been on. It's curve thickened by structure, rigs left over from her Cardenas days.

 

The consoles were unmistakably modern. They were sleek panes of black-mirrored glass. They sat in housings a fraction too deep, seams betraying the retrofit beneath the polish. New systems, old bones.

 

Then the captain came into focus.

 

Echo wore command gold, the dim light catching on the metallic lines along her wings. Her silver-red hair was braided down her back, and she stood a head and a half taller than the Admiral beside her. Not fully human. Never had been.

 

Those round metal discs on the sides of her skull glowed a deep blue, and the thin fins rising from them flicked in small, precise motions. Like the twitch of his horse’s listening ears. Her eyes—optics, she’d corrected him once on the Discovery—shone in layered reds and blues, the colors shifting where a human pupil would be.

 

Her wings were folded behind her, but even at rest they dominated the room. Metal, yes, but feathered in shape: long primaries tapering like blades, tips glowing teal, smaller secondary wings tucked beneath.

 

A fan of tail feathers rested low at her spine, a mechanical rudder disguised in avian logic. Even though they were directly behind her, Chris still saw them. They tilted downward a little. Her tail feathers were long, but not so long they dragged. Chris watched with a twinge of fascination as they twitched on their own accord, even shuffling a little even though their owner was still.

 

Completely still. Echo's chest didn't even move. She held attention the way only she could. She was motionless except for those quick, darting head movements that flashed a memory of Airiam across his mind. The ache that followed was sharp and familiar, but he locked it down.

 

Wings tucked tight. Shoulders rigid. Same coiled-focus from Discovery. Stars, she looks stressed.

 

Chris kept his posture steady, hands clasped behind his back even as the dull ache in his lower back tightened.

 

"This is the U.S.S Fitzgerald sendin' greetings an' salutations. We request clearance for one shuttlecraft." She said. Fangs flashed in between the words. The accent was an odd one. A mixture of Scottish with a faint American Southern twang.

 

“Fitzgerald, you’re cleared for shuttle approach. Enterprise will send coordinates on your mark.” Chris responded, not at all put off by the accent.

 

Behind Echo, a figure shifted.

 

For a breath the Enterprise bridge seemed to narrow around its own heartbeat. Conversations halted mid-syllable. Screens that had been softly chiming a moment before now felt muted, as if the ship itself knew to quiet down. Officers straightened in their seats with that practiced, reflexive discipline that appeared whenever brass entered the frame. Even Erica, who usually treated formality like a recommendation, lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.

 

Chris felt the shift as much as he saw it. The air changed temperature by a degree or two, the sort of subtle drop that slid against the back of his neck. April had that effect. Years of command had carved a gravity into him that rooms adjusted to without thinking. Chris remembered standing at attention for the man on more than one deck in his younger days. His body had not forgotten the instinct.

 

Una’s posture sharpened beside him. Her hands remained still on her console, but the focus across her features settled into something precise. Spock folded his arms behind him in a single smooth motion. Uhura’s expression sobered, eyes flicking from Echo to the blurred silhouette behind her.

 

The Fitzgerald’s lighting held steady, cold and clean against the gold reflections from the nebula outside. It framed the emerging figure with a quiet sense of ceremony.

 

Admiral Robert April stepped into view with that measured, unhurried calm that told Pike he’d been listening from the start. Hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp, he studied Pike for a beat longer than politeness required.

 

April's gaze dipped. It was barely a flicker, but enough that Chris noticed it. Like he was scanning him visually.

 

He sees it. Of course he does. The thought slid through his mind right and unwelcome, but his expression held. If anything, the scrutiny made him stand straighter. The old instinct to look shipshape snapped back into place. Chris' back was not pleased by the moment and gave another twang before settling back into that sharp ache.

 

“Chris,” April said, with the practiced warmth of someone who could make a question sound like a compliment. “You’re looking well.”

 

At that moment the old tug below his sternum pulled. A flicker of irritation tightened his breath. His back was already aching; he didn’t need this on top of it. At the same time the lights on the Fitzgerald's bridge dimmed for a brief second. It was enough for Echo to notice as she looked up with a pointed frown, her optics narrowing. Even April looked up and then at her before cutting back to the Enterprise's bridge.

 

A ripple of unease and Chris glanced very briefly at Una before April looked back. She had already turned to him, giving the ever so slightest of nods as if to say, I saw that too. before turning back to the viewscreen. Chris was glad it wasn't just him. He returned his gaze.

 

A few heads on the bridge turned, subtly, just enough to register the remark. Chris felt the sharp ache in his back pulse. Annoyance at it simmered beneath his schooled expression.

 

“Admiral,” He said evenly. “Good to see you, Enterprise is ready when you are. We'll send the coordinates and telemetry over at your mark."

 

"Thank you, Captain. We'll be over there shortly." April replied and Chris nodded.

 

April's voice had a thin edge to it. It was just enough to suggest he was weighing more than what Chris would say. Chris wondered briefly if April had heard something in his voice that gave away the pain. He had kept it even, but one never knew.

 

"Fitzgerald, out." Said Echo and the screen returned to the starscape and the new-old ship before them.

 

Chris stared for a second longer.

 

We.

 

The pronoun hit wrong.

 

April wasn’t supposed to have company; the transfer order had listed him alone. Pike didn’t react outwardly, but the detail slid into place like a puzzle piece he hadn’t expected. Even though it was small and inconvenient, it was potentially important. If April was bringing someone else aboard, that changed the shape of the inspection. Someone April hadn’t mentioned. Someone April assumed Pike would accept without question.

 

Different eyes.

 

Different agenda.

 

Different questions.

 

He kept his posture easy, but mentally he flagged the discrepancy for later. Preferably before the shuttle touched down.

 

The nebula beyond the viewscreen rolled in on itself, shedding its earlier blues for something stranger. Curtains of green pulled through the cloud cover like slow lightning, trailing threads of gold that rippled outward and sank into pockets of violet. For a heartbeat the whole thing looked alive. Folding, breathing, watching.

 

The colors bled across the bridge as if the ship had been dipped in them. Reflections crawled up the railings, catching on the polished deck plates and rising over Pike’s boots. His shadow took on a faint halo, an edge of green-gold shimmer that evaporated the moment he blinked.

 

A familiar wrongness pressed at the inside of his ribs. Not the tug. This one sat higher, behind the sternum instead of below it. A quiet pull, curious, almost assessing. It passed as quickly as it came, but it left his pulse uneven and his breath annoyingly shallow.

 

"Shuttlecraft? Why would they send a shuttlecraft when they can just beam over?" Uhura asked, baffled as Chris turned back to the chair.

 

"Probably want to test everything. They may have upgraded their shuttle fleet along with the rest of the ship." Explained Una from ops.

 

"That would be the correct assumption, Commander." Spock joined the conversation. "Presumably they would've already tested transporters in dry dock. It would not make sense to test them a second time."

 

"Echo….what an odd name." Una mused out loud.

 

Erica shot her a look. "Hey, in her defense you're literally named One." She pointed out which earned her a glare, but there wasn't any menace behind it.

 

Chris couldn't help the chuckle as he walked back. "She has a point, Number One." He said, the glare now turning in his direction.

 

"Didn't she serve in Discovery when you were there?" Una asked and Chris nodded. "Yes. If memory serves she's more than capable. Had a sharp tongue too."

 

"Anyway, we have an admiral to meet, Number One. Shall we?"

 

Una’s eyebrow lifted a millimeter. Not disagreement. Just that that subtle I see what you’re doing she’d perfected over the years. She stepped in beside him, matching his pace as they moved toward the turbolift.

 

“After you, Captain,” she said, perfectly professional.

 

Chris felt the eyes of the bridge on his back as he walked. His stride was steady, practiced, but the faint pull low in his abdomen tightened with every step. He ignored it. He’d been ignoring worse all week.

 

The two headed to the turbolift, doors hissing shut behind them. Chris mentally braced himself for the ride as he came to a stop next to the handle. Gripping it he said, "Shuttlebay."

 

The lift hummed to life. He could feel Una's eyes on him as they rode down. Thankfully, nothing more seemed to happen symptom wise.

 

"I can feel that look, y'know." Chris grumbled, refusing to meet her gaze. He knew full well that was a conversation they needed to have. However, now was neither the time nor place. For the moment, he let the dull ache in his back distract him.

 

"Oh, I know." Said Una, repeating the same words she once said to Hemmer. "Chris, what the hell is going on with you?"

 

The captain's jaw tightened.

 

"We're not doing this now. Later, yes, but we have an inspection to deal with." Chris said, eyes focusing on the door ahead.

 

"Fine," Huffed Una. "But don't you think for a second I'm letting this go."

 

"I would expect nothing less."

 

Chris' foot hit the deck and a cramp snapped tight low in his abdomen. It was quick, vicious, and completely out of nowhere. It should have faded. Instead it dug in, tightening with the slow, deliberate certainty of a knot being pulled tighter by the second.

 

Heat followed, not in a wave but in a concentrated bloom. Small, dense, and lodged deep. It felt like someone had pressed a hot thumb hard into one point inside him and refused to lift it.

 

The pressure didn’t move. It didn’t ease. It just held, steady and merciless, spreading a thin line of tension up through muscle and into his lower back which ached already. Each step dragged that fixed point along with him, a solid, unyielding weight that made the air feel thinner than it should have.

 

His stomach churned a quiet warning, but he kept walking, shoulders squared, expression glued into something approximating composure. The corridor seemed a fraction narrower, the lighting too sharp at the edges, but he forced his stride to stay even.

 

The cramp stayed locked in place, unforgiving as a hand clamped inside him.

 

The corridor tilted a fraction and his vision pulsed at the edges. Chris ground his teeth and kept moving, but the pain chased around his side. It seemed to mingle with his complaining back.

 

Crew crossed their path—engineering techs in red, a security pair heading in the opposite direction. Each one straightened a little at the sight of their captain, posture snapping a hair sharper as they passed. One ensign risked a quick glance at Pike’s face, then another at Una, her expression tightening in something that hovered between concern and respect before moving on.

 

The next step didn’t land clean. Chris foot struck the deck a little too soft, a little too off-center, and the shift ricocheted straight through the locked cramp. His breath hitched. The dizziness swelled. It wasn't a wave, but a slow, steady tilt that his vision couldn’t correct for.

 

He reached out before he meant to. Fingers caught the bulkhead, firm and flat, an anchor more than a gesture. The metal was cool under his palm. The captain held onto it like he could will the corridor back into place.

 

Una stopped beside him without the scrape of a single boot. “Chris.”

 

He didn’t answer. Chris couldn't. Not without giving something away. He only kept his hand on the wall, shoulders angled forward like he was reading something on the panel that wasn’t there.

 

The nausea rose again—thick, metallic, coiling behind his sternum. A breath might steady it. Or it might make it worse. He hesitated, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

 

“Look at me,” Una said quietly.

 

Chris didn’t. He kept his eyes on the door ahead. The shuttle bay was just meters away, voices drifting faintly through the deck, the gathering hum of engines waiting for inspection.

 

Una’s voice softened, but her stance didn’t. “You’re not walking in there like this.”

 

He swallowed, the movement small and strained. “I just need a second.”

 

“Take it,” she said. “Before someone else sees.”

 

The corridor steadied by degrees. It was still too bright, still too narrow, but no longer threatening to dip out from under him.

 

He stayed braced against the wall, breathing slow, waiting for the cramp to loosen even a fraction.

 

This time a junior engineer in red rounded the corner, slowed for half a heartbeat at the sight of her captain braced against the wall. Una cut her a sharp look that sent the ensign moving again, cheeks flushing as she passed.

 

The shuttle bay loomed ahead unforgivingly close.

 

"Chris, are you alright?" Una's concerned, there's an unanswered question in her expression as he leans against the bulkhead to steady himself.

 

"I'm fine." He stubbornly and forcefully insists.

 

"Are you sure you shouldn't go to sickbay?"

 

Chris gives her a glare. A true one. He's tired of being in sickbay. And there's too many ghosts of Marie around that place. He'd rather not.

 

"I'm fine." He insists again, more weight behind his words. "Nothing can go wrong during this inspection. Not with the ship, not with our crew. We can't afford it."

 

“We can’t afford—” He stopped. Not because he chose to, but because the cramp tightened again, a hard, fixed twist that stole the end of the sentence before he could force it out. He exhaled through his nose, slow and shaky.

 

Una’s expression flickered. Only once, only for him. “Chris.”

 

Chris shook his head. “I said I’m fine.”

 

“That’s not what I’m seeing.”

 

“It’s what you’re getting,” he snapped, low and fierce, more bite in it than he intended. The echo of it hung in the corridor, too sharp against the steady hum of the deck. Chris swallowed hard. “We’re not losing ground in front of April. Not today.”

 

Una didn’t move.

 

Didn’t blink.

 

"You’re not a walking symbol, Chris. You’re a person. And you’re about thirty seconds from face-planting in front of an admiral.”

 

Chris' jaw tightened in annoyance as he leaned against the bulkhead, breathing through his nose. In and out. In and out. He glared at Una until the cramp blissfully faded.

 

Una watched him with her arms crossed. "Then walk, but don't lie to me." Her tone suggested, as it had earlier, that this would be discussed later. Chris adjusted his tunic with annoyance and a sharp tug, as if he was trying to rebuild the shape of himself. The breath he sucked in trembled more than he wanted it to.

 

Suddenly, she was there at his side. Chris hadn't noticed it, or even heard her while he was adjusting his tunic for the nth time that day. It wasn't close enough to crowd him, but close enough that he could feel her. Una's presence seemed to steady the air between them.

 

"Chris, you don't have to do this—whatever this is—alone. I'm right here with you."

 

The tension in his jaw eased as Chris looked up. It wasn't a whole lot, but Una seemed to notice it, glancing subtly at it. He gave a sheepish sort of shrug. "Well, you know what they say about old habits."

 

Una's mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile. "I know, they always seem to die hard. Whatever's going on with you, I'm here to help. You know that."

 

It wasn't a promise.

 

It was a fact.

 

Personal or not, he wasn’t turning it away.

 

Chris let the moment stretch for a few heartbeats. An emotional handhold of sorts. The dizziness settled as did his stomach. The cramp loosened its dominance and settled into an annoyance. It was small, quiet, but it gave him something solid to stand on again.

 

"Alright, let's do this."

 

Una gave a small yet sharp nod.

 

Together, they walked into the shuttlebay side by side to face whatever fate awaited them.