A Newcomer Arrives
Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who you were, no one was in the transporter room when it suddenly came to life. Engineering could do nothing about its malfunctioning without the needed supplies very shortly to be picked up from the nearby Starbase (just finally coming into view in the far distance). A figure flickered into view, almost vanished, then strengthened.
In the half-formed light, a familiar face stood on the transporter pad in unfamiliar clothing. He wore a sleeveless golden shirt with a golden sash around his waist, high black boots and black trousers. Over the golden shirt though was a black leather vest, and leather gloves on his hands. The insignia on his golden shirt was nothing this universe had ever seen.
The face he wore? Christopher Richard Pike.
The face was the same, about the same age he was now, with a scruff of a beard. His eyes were the biggest change. Colder, much colder.
The image flickered out again, and when it settled, there stood Christopher Pike, complete in a neatly pressed, normal command uniform. Except that he was still wearing a pair of black leather gloves.
“…the hell?” He looked around slowly. Something was off, immediately. This did not look like his ships transporter room, just… very close to it. He eyed the symbol on the wall, snorted, and looked at himself. His brows rose, he turned a sleeve over, and he scowled. Something had happened. He just wasn't sure what. With an air of strength and command around him, Pike walked out of the transporter room and turned down the hall, heading towards the bridge.
“…where the fuck am I?”
In the half-formed light, a familiar face stood on the transporter pad in unfamiliar clothing. He wore a sleeveless golden shirt with a golden sash around his waist, high black boots and black trousers. Over the golden shirt though was a black leather vest, and leather gloves on his hands. The insignia on his golden shirt was nothing this universe had ever seen.
The face he wore? Christopher Richard Pike.
The face was the same, about the same age he was now, with a scruff of a beard. His eyes were the biggest change. Colder, much colder.
The image flickered out again, and when it settled, there stood Christopher Pike, complete in a neatly pressed, normal command uniform. Except that he was still wearing a pair of black leather gloves.
“…the hell?” He looked around slowly. Something was off, immediately. This did not look like his ships transporter room, just… very close to it. He eyed the symbol on the wall, snorted, and looked at himself. His brows rose, he turned a sleeve over, and he scowled. Something had happened. He just wasn't sure what. With an air of strength and command around him, Pike walked out of the transporter room and turned down the hall, heading towards the bridge.
“…where the fuck am I?”