Two more prompt fics
Title: Flee
Fandom: STXI
Characters: Christopher Pike, James T. Kirk
Prompt: SOS/Help
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/a
Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of its many owners. I make no claim on this and write it purely for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement intended.
The howls of the natives fill Chris’ ears as he and the cadets race through the forest. They’ve so far eluded their pursuers, but he knows that once they exchange the cover of the trees for the wide-open space of the beaches, they run the risk of being shot at.
Silently, Chris curses the ship that first discovered this world. He swears that if he gets back to the Academy alive, he’s going to write a report that will ensure that John Alden never captains anything but a garbage scow ever again.
“Sir,” Jim shouts from up ahead, “beach is ahead!”
“Got it,” Chris replies. As he runs, he pulls his communicator and activates it. “Pike to Dublin,” he snarls. “Prepare for emergency beam out! Track our signal! Five to beam up!”
“Sir,” the communications officer replies, “transporters can’t beam -”
“We’re about to come out onto the beach,” Chris interrupts. “Beam us out the moment you get a signal!”
He doesn’t hear the officer’s response, just assumes that the crew will do their jobs.
The first shot comes the moment they leave the trees. The arrow whistles past Chris’ ear, but thankfully doesn’t hit anyone. “Down!”
They crouch in the sand, listening to the natives tear through the brush. Then there is the jingle of the transporter. Chris is about to breathe a sigh of relief, when the next arrow flies. He turns to look over his shoulder -
Only someone crashes into him, knocking him to the ground just as the transporter takes them away. When they rematerialize, Chris stares up to find Jim Kirk staring down at him.
The cadet smirks. "Don't fancy seeing you stuck full of holes, Captain."
Chris rolls his eyes.
Title: Sick
Fandom: STXI
Characters: Christopher Pike
Prompt: Misery
Rating: PG
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of its many owners. I make no claim on this and write it purely for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement intended.
The room is white. The curtains are white. The machines are white. His bed and sheets are white.
Chris is fucking sick of white. He is sick of the room, of the curtains, of everything. He’s sick of the specialists asking him, “How do you feel?” and telling him, “We’ll know more when we do more tests.” They never know more.
He hates that he’s constantly on painkillers that barely dull the sciatic pain in his back. He hates the barely concealed pity in the eyes of his visitors. He can just imagine what is said outside of his room. “So terrible.” “It’s too bad.” “He’ll be lucky if he walks with a cane.”
The Enterprise is gone, she and her five-year mission handed off to Kirk. The Admiralty have promoted him, but even the rank hasn’t worked to stop Chris from feeling useless, adrift.
This isn’t how it's supposed to be. He’s supposed to be on the Enterprise, taking her out. Not stuck in this fucking bed, waiting to see if he’ll heal, or if his body will betray him yet again.
Fandom: STXI
Characters: Christopher Pike, James T. Kirk
Prompt: SOS/Help
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/a
Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of its many owners. I make no claim on this and write it purely for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement intended.
The howls of the natives fill Chris’ ears as he and the cadets race through the forest. They’ve so far eluded their pursuers, but he knows that once they exchange the cover of the trees for the wide-open space of the beaches, they run the risk of being shot at.
Silently, Chris curses the ship that first discovered this world. He swears that if he gets back to the Academy alive, he’s going to write a report that will ensure that John Alden never captains anything but a garbage scow ever again.
“Sir,” Jim shouts from up ahead, “beach is ahead!”
“Got it,” Chris replies. As he runs, he pulls his communicator and activates it. “Pike to Dublin,” he snarls. “Prepare for emergency beam out! Track our signal! Five to beam up!”
“Sir,” the communications officer replies, “transporters can’t beam -”
“We’re about to come out onto the beach,” Chris interrupts. “Beam us out the moment you get a signal!”
He doesn’t hear the officer’s response, just assumes that the crew will do their jobs.
The first shot comes the moment they leave the trees. The arrow whistles past Chris’ ear, but thankfully doesn’t hit anyone. “Down!”
They crouch in the sand, listening to the natives tear through the brush. Then there is the jingle of the transporter. Chris is about to breathe a sigh of relief, when the next arrow flies. He turns to look over his shoulder -
Only someone crashes into him, knocking him to the ground just as the transporter takes them away. When they rematerialize, Chris stares up to find Jim Kirk staring down at him.
The cadet smirks. "Don't fancy seeing you stuck full of holes, Captain."
Chris rolls his eyes.
Title: Sick
Fandom: STXI
Characters: Christopher Pike
Prompt: Misery
Rating: PG
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of its many owners. I make no claim on this and write it purely for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement intended.
The room is white. The curtains are white. The machines are white. His bed and sheets are white.
Chris is fucking sick of white. He is sick of the room, of the curtains, of everything. He’s sick of the specialists asking him, “How do you feel?” and telling him, “We’ll know more when we do more tests.” They never know more.
He hates that he’s constantly on painkillers that barely dull the sciatic pain in his back. He hates the barely concealed pity in the eyes of his visitors. He can just imagine what is said outside of his room. “So terrible.” “It’s too bad.” “He’ll be lucky if he walks with a cane.”
The Enterprise is gone, she and her five-year mission handed off to Kirk. The Admiralty have promoted him, but even the rank hasn’t worked to stop Chris from feeling useless, adrift.
This isn’t how it's supposed to be. He’s supposed to be on the Enterprise, taking her out. Not stuck in this fucking bed, waiting to see if he’ll heal, or if his body will betray him yet again.