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emeraldsyndicate · 5 months

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The future, is what you make of it.

Fanfic/ Star Trek Captain Pike, Admiral Vance X reader

(I take no credit for these characters, I'm just playing with them, seeking a happy ending to a muse that sat upon my shoulder and murmured "what if...."

Summary : It was an ordinary day for me, till it wasn't. It's kinda like those zenn gardens, the stones in the sand with the circles radiating outward - but in my case apparently across time and multiple realities.

It's made me introspective. What is compassion and do we ever truly know the effects of one kind act tossed out into the universe till a/the "god" (any sufficiently advanced civilization/technology would appear god like or magical) takes notice. All "god" ever really does, is give choices. Those spoken and more significantly, those unspoken, and with them the possibility of a life and love, worth dying for, and perhaps their own desire, after so much death and destruction for just one "happy ending", not perfect, no one can promise perfect, choices after all, but happy.

warning: Mature, O.C. some spoilers and diverges from the end of season 4 destiny and season 2 of strange new worlds.

I've never posted before, gentle feedback is appreciated....

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Your tired, in fact, truth be told you are way way beyond exhausted and not really too sure how you are managing to function. But its not like there is another choice. Well, technically, you had your choice, made it, and these are the consequences. God knows you were warned…hell that’s actually funny. God knows you were warned…by a "god", and then you went and broke the only rule he gave you. You got offered paradise and now, now you’ve got a ring side seat to exactly what hell is like…complete with a demon. A demon with dead, dark eyes seemingly seething with hate and a hunger that is never, ever satisfied. You shake your head to dispel the image of it circling, slowly, snarling and clicking, growing ever closer, watching for a weak moment when it could pounce. That nightmare was never ever going to go away.

You drag your sorry self up the ladder of yet another Jefferies tube and start the imposed sentence of cleaning it. A horrible, mind numbing and exhausting job – your punishment. You can feel the sweat already starting to trickle down your back severely exacerbating the burning, rubbed raw rash, an allergic reaction to the fabric, of your prison fatigues. The only thing, in the only fabric, the replicator will issue you. The commander made sure he didn’t miss a beat in ensuring you had the “full effect”. You were hungry but knew the “K” rations, again all that the computer would issue you, although they met your nutritional requirements, would turn your stomach and cause severe cramping that made your last bout of stomach flu look like a day at the beach. Still this is better than yesterday. Very little could fail to be better than yesterday with you and the chief trapped with a Gorn.

She’s still in Medlab and your, well your back on “shift” without even 12 hours of recovery time. Everything aches, absolutely everything aches, you swear even the inside of your eyelids hurt, but your lucky to be alive. "Again", you correct yourself, lucky to be alive again, however your starting to wonder if this is indeed part of the consequences for pissing off a deity. You can't suffer if your not alive you think to yourself ruefully smirking.

You want so very very badly to feel safe, just for a few minutes, to be comforted, cared for -it’s a federation ship for pity sake. Their very motto is service, sacrifice, compassion and love – just not for you.

The commander made sure everyone knew not to fraternize with the screw up who cost them the alliance with the Tal when you hadn’t shown up for the reception. The captain, he seemed intent on ensuring your full sentence was carried out to the letter. Neither of them seemed to have any of the empathy for you which they lavished upon others. They had raged at you the next morning when you’d hurried to find them and explain as not one message had gone through. They'd gone one up one side of you and down the other, neither willing to let you utter a single word in your defense, insisting there was none. You kept trying to keep a lid on your tempter as you’d been up all night and knew normally they were far more level headed and fair.

You decided to try and wait till they ran out of steam to explain when the commander had gone so far as to state blithely, when you’d taken a deep breath and raised your hand to try and interject, that if you uttered a single, solitary syllable, ever, to try and excuse your gross, selfish lack of foresight regarding this matter, that he would ship you to the penal colony of epsilon 8. Your mouth had fallen open in shock as he had continued to rail at you, his finger shaking in your face, his own a mask of rage and disgust. This was not the man you knew.

They had both seemed so haggard and tired, after all the war with the gorn was not going well and they had had high hopes for the support this new ally could have provided.

You had started to say “captain, commander” in a gentle voice sure it was just a misunderstanding, as it was apparently far far more severe a situation than you had thought but they were both reasonable men so you were sure that when you explained…

Only to be interrupted by him saying, in a low angry voice with enough venom to have you stepping back “choose your next actions carefully as I swear on my honour as Starfleet officer if you dare utter another single sound for this inexcusable conduct, I will put you on the shuttle in cuffs personally, I AM the authority in this sector. The lives you have endangered with your self-indulgent, selfish,… primitive…” He had literally spat out.

You had looked in shock back and forth from the captain to the commander with Pike running his hands through his badly tussled hair who had joined in insisting “– show up, all you had to do was show up – can you even conceive of the damage done by your actions. That they wouldn’t know, wouldn’t check where you’d gone instead. The level of insult you’ve caused…”

I still had absolutely no idea what I had done that was so horribly wrong. I agree I wasn't there but there didn't seem to be another option at the time, and how my choice could have been so offensive, given the potential for harm if I had just left and gone to the reception, was seemingly beyond my limited experience with or understanding of interspecies politics.

No one bothered to tell me that, although everyone seemed to know. Which made even trying to defend myself impossible. So I was trying to keep my head down, finish the sentence of hard labor to teach me ”some character, badly needed humility and some small inclination of the meaning of self-sacrifice”, at least until I could disappear.

Seriously, I had thought as I worked, like I hadn’t wanted the “Cinderella deal” at the Tal reception. I’d gotten to be dressed to the 9’s, as a last minute substitute to ensure the Tal cultural norms were obeyed, as the officers had been dropping like flies due to the virus brought in on the rescued transport earlier that day. While not lethal for most species it would make you damn sick for over 48 hour as it ran its course , along with being highly contagious. Hence everyone, even me, non-starfleet, were moving via the transporters to avoid the possible spread of the virus. I really had felt like I had won the lottery, A night on the arm of a handsome Starfleet officer, dinner with a charming and witty companion, dancing. Even if you were terrified of not using the right fork or upsetting aliens you didn’t know existed 3 months ago, you had really been looking forward to it. It seemed originally like fate had thrown you a bone, given you just one night of what may have been, a wonderful fairy tale night to last the rest of your life after you ensured you disappeared. It was a big galaxy after all and they, they had their whole life ahead of them now.

Fate however, or the aforementioned "God", had put other plans in place and now you were being punished. Not that you could see any other choice at the time you had thought leaning all of your weight into a particularly stubborn nodule with sweat dripping down into your eyes mixing with the tears born of exhaustion, pain and self-indulgent but not unwarranted, pity. That, was of course, when you slipped.

Now usually the safety measures on a Starfleet vessel would prevent accidents of this nature but not when they hadn’t been engaged. After all no one would talk to you, you had no computer access, privileges or codes so you had no means of knowing they existed or being able to invoke them. That meant that when you slipped and fell you kept going, all the way down to the deck with a rather sickening thud.

You had a moment to register the pain, the sharp snapping sensation in your arm and right side along with the sudden inability to take a breath. Your last stream of conscious thought was that you were going to die, all alone while surrounded by those who but for your refusal to obey a "god" would have welcomed and cared for you.

You could have had a fairy tale life, safe from harm and they, they would have been just as trapped as if they were still fated to end up in those horrible medical support devices. Trapped inside a pain filled shell of what they once were or could be. Alive, because of you, but because of debt and duty to you they would never again truly be able to live. You were going to die having been thrust 1500 years into the future. Sent here purportedly because a "god of time" had deemed it wasn’t fair you had lost everything, every hope, every dream everyone, your very world lost to you forever because of the time war, and the fact you would not let them kill a child.

A child whose name you still didn’t know, but, at least she got to grow up you'd consoled yourself. The time soldiers charging out of the wormhole hadn’t even really wanted the child at the playground you’d been walking past, they were after someone called grayson….in order to destroy someone or something called ….spock.

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