#this is what Cornwell asks herself

[ussjellyfish]

Unwritten/Unpublished fics asks!

#9, 10, 13, 15, 16

😁

Thank you for asking!!

These are mostly from Lulu's travels across universes, which has not been published and sitting partially done in my WIP folder since this summer.

9. Is there anything in the fic you're not so excited about writing?

I have an partially completed fic where Lulu from Firefly universe jumps into basically post-season 4 canon. She's about 4. The fun part is that she's from Firefly, which is soft, and Katrina and Philippa are both alive, and together, and Michael and Laira are married. Laira's pregnant in that one, which let me have a very funny (to me) line in Quantum.

The part that will NOT be fun to write is when the universes intersect and there are two sets of people all in one scene. Really anything more than a handful of people talking is difficult, but two Michael's, two Laira's...nightmare to write.

Fun though! there's lots of fun little things, but uh...yikes for me and the pronouns and how to differentiate.

10. If unpublished, can you show a sneak peek of what you've written?

Rillak walks over by the window, still carrying Lulu in her arms. She turns so Lulu can see out of the viewport. "See the ships? The pretty one with sails is Bajoran." Lulu lifts her head, and Rillak turns closer. "Can I put you down? Admiral Vance knows how to get ice cream from his very important replicator and I bet if we ask nicely, he can get us some."

"We're not supposed to eat in the office."

Rillak crouches down, making herself even with Lulu's tearstained face. "The secret is, it's my office, and I can do what I want."

"And me?" Lulu smiles at that.

"And you, because you're my guest."

Walking over to Vance and offering her hand, Lulu stares up expectantly. "Let's get ice cream."

With Lulu occupied, Rillak eyes the wet patch on her suit and finds Michael's gaze. "I was coming out of a meeting and she came around the corner, sobbing, and threw herself at me. My security is a little embrassed, but it was fine."

Today is full of too many surprises. "She ran to you, ma'am?"

"She knows me. I don't know how, I've never—"

"Things are different in her universe, ma'am."

Rillak tilts her head, smiling a little. She raises her eye ridges. "Obviously, captain. How different?"

13. Is there any unwritten/unpublished fics you haven't mentioned you're gonna do?

Right now there's Quantum, Lulu's travels across universe, a fic where Laira and Michael are dating (but not for very long) and Laira gets sick so Michael goes to rescue her from herself. (and they talk about how it is all right to be comforted and looked after), and a fic where Michael gets pon farr, and her crew realizes if they ask Laira to have sex with her, it'll be less awkward for everyone.

I don't have anything else I've thought about writing enough to have a WIP for.

15. Do you have any unwritten scene that you think about a lot?

Philippa getting to see Michael (canon-y Michael). She loves Michael so much, getting to see any version of her is wonderful. This one she can make fun of because she's a captain, but she's lonely. Why is she so lonely? She could...Laira's right there are you haven't figured out how much of a crush you have on her?

The private goodbye where Philippa tells her to go get Laira. You're happy with her in my universe, like stupidly happy, and you don't have me here to tell you what to do, so, go. Will be fun, and heartfelt.

16. Is there any written scene that you think about a lot?

Laira and Michael trying to give Lulu a bath, which all the chaos that would entail. The two of them deciding that calling each other by their first names is okay. Lulu getting Laira's hair all wet and the two of them laughing while Michael realizes how lonely she is.

She is captain, and she has her crew but she doesn't have an imperial niece or an almost mother working for Federation security, and a step-mother who is an admiral (Kat Cornwell) or Laira, who she married about a year ago in this universe, and they're having a baby. (Laira's probably the same amount of pregnant in Quantum right now that she is in Lulu's home universe.)

Michael realizing she's lonely for this life she doesn't have. Laira admitting the same thing. Lulu is delightful chaos that she'd never allow herself to have.

(and maybe she should)

and they look at each other, all wet in their tank tops and jackets off and Lulu's falling asleep in her pajamas and...they're going to miss her.

and each other when she goes home because they're not even friends here.

(but maybe they...)

They're very very cute when they're being awkward together. The "I don't love you yet, but obviously I could" feeling.

unwritten fic asks

[curator-on-ao3]

🦗 🙌 👄

Eek! Thank you so much for asking, @emilie786! ❤️

🦗Do you write in sequence or jump around?

I write in sequence. Sometimes I’ll jot down notes for specifics that will come later, but writing in sequence helps me feel more in control of the narrative.

🙌 What's a line or paragraph of yours that you're proud of?

Okay, this reads like therapy-speak because it’s said by a therapist, but I’m actually really proud of how Captain Katrina Cornwell greets La’an when Una brings La’an, injured and malnourished, to the Martin Luther King Jr.:

Captain Cornwell seems to assess everything with a glance, a quick decision, and a crouch in front of La’an. 

“The creatures who hurt you were wrong.” The captain’s gaze is steady on La’an, as if the flurry of activity behind the captain isn’t important. “What happened to you was wrong, and you did what you had to do to survive. Ensign Chin-Riley brought you here so we can help you. My name is Katrina, and I’m the captain of the ship so everyone has to listen to me. But I want to listen to you. So, tell me, what’s the first thing we should do to help you?”

That’s from Youthful Exuberance (Some Kind of Love), a Pikeuna fic that, once La’an finally shows up, I hope does justice to La’an’s importance in Una’s life — and to La’an, herself.

👄 Your OTP are having their first kiss. What song do you imagine is playing?

I don’t do OTPs, but for a first Pikeuna kiss, let’s choose one from my various playlists with:

Thank you again for asking, @emilie786! ❤️

> Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask Game Part II <

[baubeautyandthegeek]

Between The Lines - Katrina Cornwell/La'an Noonien-Singh

A/N: Day 10 for @trektober-challenge 's General prompts.

“Is this still about the…. Age difference?” La’an sounds mildly offended and Kat winces as she admits it is, barely stifling her whimper when La’an’s fingers brush through her hair, tucking it away from her eyes so she has no way to hide herself. “You do know I don’t actually… care?” La’an asks softly, then settles to kneel between Kat’s thighs, leaning up to kiss her softly, hating the soft sob that escapes Kat and kneeling up all the more to pull her into a tight hug, soft lips finding Katrina’s ear. “I love you Kat, no matter what the age gap is, alright?” Kat nods, silently then seeks another kiss, drawing strength from La’an’s love.

[shadowsshowdown]

Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow's Showdown: Chapter 2

The Archn3rd0.

Head of cyber-security - Frank Pritchard's office.

Francis Wendell Pritchard, Frank, Nucl3arsnake, Archn3rd0, or just the boss. Pain in the ass, but there’s one thing that must be admitted - he understands computers like no one else. He's rude to anyone, and his attitude lets, people know that they are not worthy even to look at him. At least that's what Laura observed during her relatively short stay at Sarif Industries headquarters. The exception to this rule are other computer geeks, whom he treats less harshly but they still are dumber than himself.

"Finally! Miss Werner herself!" He squawked unpleasantly with the voice of an old parrot, still staring at the computer screen.

"Hi Frank, I don't like you either." Laura paid back with the greeting. That was a part of their daily ritual. "But I have a little gift for you." She added, handing him over the blue file.

While Pritchard was enthusiastically flicking through the papers, Laura had some time to memorize his office. Computers, more computers and…even more computers. It is the simplest description of his kingdom. Pritchard had a decent server room here, which probably contained quite a lot of useful information. All that she needed to do was to learn the system well, then bypass its firewalls and at the same time fortify herself with one, redirect connections, let a worm into the system, break a few passwords... - she calculated in her mind. It is doable, a piece of cake. The server lights flickered rhythmically and froze. Frank cursed silently as he leaped up from his chair.

"This piece of junk crashes again." He muttered as he kicked the metal case and regretted it immediately afterward.

"Can I have a look?" She asked with a raised eyebrow as the boss bounced in place on one leg.

"Suit yourself. Although I doubt that you are smarter than me." He replied with a poisonous smile.

"This blue wire should be plugged in here, and the green one is redundant." She spoke more to herself than to him. "Try to reset." She asked.

Frank unwillingly returned to his chair and typed a few commands. He almost wanted to say "Didn't I tell you ?!" with that proud tone of his when the message "Connection restored" appeared on the screen. Laura was standing right behind him but didn't say a word. The black leather jacket with orange inserts on the shoulders and white on the sleeves squeaked unpleasantly as he moved. Pritchard fixed his white turtleneck and grunted. He didn’t want to admit that she solved the problem, and simply thank her for that. Frank was too proud for this. An awkward silence floated in the air, repeatedly disturbed by the tapping of a pen on the desk surface. Finally, he tossed a new pile of papers on the desk.

"Why are you still standing here?!" He growled irritably. "Are you growing roots here or what? You have nothing to do?"

"I'm gone." Laura replied shortly with dissatisfaction, gathered the papers, and disappeared behind the door.

"You have to correct it for me by tomorrow, even if it may take you the whole night!" He shouted after her.

Walking along the long corridor, she passed by more offices surrounded by glass walls. Camera lenses followed her steps, making sure that she won’t break the law, but Laura had a few tricks to fool them if she wanted to. The escalator was already turned off, so she was forced to use the ordinary stairs. In addition to reviewing and correcting what Frank had given her, she also had to work out a strategy to fight with Jensen. Things were getting too complicated, and soon could jeopardize her mission, but that wasn't what scared her the most.

Detroit. Laura's apartment.

She got home early in the evening, but there was no time and place for resting. The pile of papers seemed to be bigger now than when it was on Pritchard’s desk. This means only one - she won't be going to bed soon. The Newmans stopped arguing, and from the party at Cornwells, she managed to pick out the lyrics.

There's something cold and blank behind her smile

She's standing on an overpass in her miracle mile

'Cause you were from a perfect world

A world that threw me away today, today, today

To run away

A pill to make you numb

A pill to make you dumb

A pill to make you anybody else

But all the drugs in this world

Won't save her from herself

"Their taste has improved." she thought, going upstairs. Stalker greeted her as soon as she crossed the threshold. Of course, she knew he was only interested in food, but she nevertheless stroked his head tenderly. He replied with a long purr as he walked slowly between her legs. Laura tossed the keys on a nearby locker, took off her uncomfortable shoes, and put on slippers. She placed the pile of folders carelessly on the sofa, then headed to the kitchen. She turned on the light and froze. An overturned jug was lying on the cupboard, and the water ran in streams, dripping onto the floor. The coffee mug, she had left when she was gone for work, now was shattered into pieces, and the culprit looked at its mistress with his usual innocent expression.

"Stalker, you little...! How many times do I have to remind you that mugs DON’T BOUNCE?!" Laura screamed with fury.

After confronting Jensen and an episode with Frank, she had enough impressions for today. Besides, she had some extra work, that her boss had ordered her to do and now that mess in the kitchen. Before she started cleaning, she slipped into a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants. While sweeping the floor, Laura realized that her plan to defeat Adam turned out to be more difficult than she thought it would be. This guy was as cunning as a fox and nosier than her neighbour. Apart from Megan, she found no other weak points in his defence. When she was done, she prepared a bowl of Crunchy Pirates and sat down on the couch, leafing through the papers. At least half of them were useless and messy, but some gave her hints on how she could hack into Pritchard's database or even deeper into company servers. It was highly unwise to entrust such important things to anyone, and that observation made Laura even more curious. Despite his repulsive nature, Frank had to trust her, or he simply wanted to check her out because she did not consider him as a complete idiot. She dealt with the additional task extremely quickly, so before going to sleep she managed to take a hot shower and wash away the events of today. Laura always tried to leave things behind, but not every time she succeeded.

"Morning always comes too soon." She thought as the alarm clock rang and echoed loudly among the bedroom walls. The cool sheets still reminded her about the unexpected dream, the one about someone who shouldn't even be there. Laura felt as if her software had been attacked by a virus, breaking through all defence lines. Stalker jumped on the pillow and dabbed his tail against her cheek. She pushed him away with a little dissatisfaction, slowly scrambling out of bed. She slipped her feet into the soft cat-shaped slippers, stretched with a loud yawn, and that was the end of her nice, lazy morning. She jumped out of bed at light-speed when she realized what time it was.

"Frank is going to kill me!" She screamed so loudly that the frightened cat scuttled under the bed. The shower took her 5 minutes instead of 10. Dressing up 15 instead of 30, and she didn't even touch her breakfast. She left Stalker a full bowl of cat food and poured water into the second one. She grabbed her backpack and ran out of the house. Halfway she turned around because she forgot to lock the door. Along the way, she bumped into a nosy neighbour, who didn’t stop cursing even when she already disappeared from his sight.

Fate did not spare Laura today, she was terribly late and a heavy downpour welcomed her outside. She put on the hood, which at least gave her apparent protection, and rushed down the street. Water splashed from under the soles of the shoes with her every move. The almost entire way she was on the run, pausing only for a moment to catch her breath. By the time she got to the company, she was already soaked to the bone.

All  chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]

[rockislandadultreads]

Nonfiction Thursday: New Memoirs

By All Means Available by Michael G. Vickers

In 1984, Michael Vickers took charge of the CIA’s secret campaign against the Soviets in Afghanistan. Inheriting a strategy aimed at imposing costs on Russia, Vickers transformed the campaign into an all-out effort to help the Afghans win their war. More than any other American, he was responsible for the outcome in Afghanistan that led to the end of the Cold War.

In By All Means Available, Vickers recounts his remarkable career, from his days as a Green Beret to his vision for victory in Afghanistan to his role in waging America’s war on terror at the highest levels in government. In captivating detail, he depicts his years in Special Forces, revealing how those experiences directly influenced his approach to shaping policy, and offers a deeply informed analysis of the greatest challenges facing America today.

This is a riveting and illuminating insider’s account of the military and intelligence worlds at every level.

Lesbian Love Story by Amelia Possanza

When Amelia Possanza moved to Brooklyn to build a life of her own, she found herself surrounded by queer stories: she read them on landmark placards, overheard them on the pool deck when she joined the world’s largest LGBTQ swim team, and even watched them on TV in her cockroach-infested apartment. But these stories rarely featured lesbians who could become her role models, in romance as in life.

This is the story of Possanza’s journey into the archives to recover the stories of lesbians in the 20th Century: who they were, how they loved, why their stories were destroyed, and where their memories echo and live on. Centered around seven love stories for the ages, Possanza’s hunt takes readers from a Drag King show in Bushwick to the home of activists in Harlem and then across the ocean to Hadrian’s Library, where she searches for traces of Sappho in the ruins. Along the way, she discovers her own love—for swimming, for community, for New York City—and adds her own record to the archive.

At the heart of this riveting, inventive history, Possanza asks: How could lesbian love help us reimagine care and community? What would our world look like if we replaced its foundation of misogyny with something new, with something distinctly lesbian?

What the Dead Know by Barbara Butcher

Barbara Butcher was early in her recovery from alcoholism when she found an unexpected a job at the Medical Examiner’s Office in New York City. The second woman ever hired for the role of Death Investigator in Manhattan, she was the first to last more than three months. The work was gritty, demanding, morbid, and sometimes dangerous – she loved it.

Butcher (yes, that is her real name, and she has heard all the jokes) spent day in and day out investigating double homicides, gruesome suicides, and most heartbreaking of all, underage rape victims who had also been murdered. In What the Dead Know, she writes with the kind of New York attitude and bravado you might expect from decades in the field, investigating more than 5,500 death scenes, 680 of which were homicides. In the opening chapter, she describes how just from sheer luck of having her arm in cast, she avoided a boobytrapped suicide. Later in her career, she describes working the nation’s largest mass murder, the attack on 9/11, where she and her colleagues initially relied on family members’ descriptions to help distinguish among the 21,900 body parts of the victims.

This is the fascinating and stunning real-life story of a woman who, in dealing with death every day, learned surprising lessons about life—and how some of those lessons saved her from becoming a statistic herself. Fans of Kathy Reichs, Patricia Cornwell, and true crime won’t be able to put it down.

When the World Didn't End by Guinevere Turner

On January 5, 1975, the world was supposed to end. Under strict instructions from her Family Leader, seven-year-old Guinevere Turner put on her best dress, grabbed her favorite toy, and waited for her salvation--a spaceship that would take her and her peers to live on Venus. But the spaceship never came.

Guinevere did not understand her family was a cult. She spent most of her days on a compound in Kansas, living with dozens of other children who worked in the sorghum fields and roved freely through the surrounding pastures, eating mulberries and tending to farm animals. But there was a dark side to this bucolic existence: When selected girls in her community turned twelve or thirteen, they were "given" to older men on the compound as wives in training.

Then, at age eleven, Guinevere's world as she had known it ended. Her mother, from whom she had been separated since age three, left the Family with a disgraced member, and Guinevere and her four-year-old sister were forced to go with her. Traveling outside the bounds of her cloistered existence, Guinevere was thrust into public school for the first time, a stranger in a strange world with homemade clothes, clueless to social codes. Now, in the World she'd been raised to believe was evil, she faced challenges and horrors she couldn't have imagined.

Drawing from the diaries that she kept throughout her youth, Guinevere Turner's memoir is an intimate and heart-wrenching chronicle of a childhood touched with extraordinary beauty and unfathomable ugliness, the ache of yearning to return to a lost home--and the slow realization of how harmful that place really was.

[pixiedane]

@dougielombax asked me to elaborate. Note that this includes discussion of various mental illnesses including addiction and suicide, and spoilers for Star Trek: Picard and Star Trek: Discovery.

My post was in reference to the Borg reveal explaining away Jack Crusher’s mental illness while simultaneously traumatizing him and every other young person in Starfleet. I’m not convinced the writers understand the consequences of any of that.  

I say ‘once again’ because it keeps happening. 

In season one of Discovery Lorca is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress, no, actually he is from an Evil™ universe. Also in Discovery season one Tyler is suffering from PTS, no, actually he is a genetically modified Klingon. In season two of Discovery Spock is suffering from [undisclosed mental illness], no, actually his visions are time travelers. Also in Discovery season two and continued in at least the first season of Strange New Worlds, but probably the entire series, Pike suffers from Future Traumatic Stress about being permanently disabled which he learns about through more time shenanigans. Picard season one gives us depressed Picard, depressed Rios, anxious Agnes, anxious and addicted Raffi, Soji’s identity issues, grieving Troi and Riker, and all of the above are revealed to be a direct result of Romulan manipulation. And the Romulans themselves were ALSO mentally manipulated! Meanwhile the Borg Reclamation Project, aka the project to destigmatize victims of mental and physical assault still dealing with the trauma while providing support and community, was destroyed.

Picard season two needs its own paragraph. First, we get the revelation of Picard’s childhood trauma, his mother’s death by suicide. The narrative sympathizes with Maurice Picard, who is otherwise suggested to be abusive— not only in TNG (which came before) and Picard season three (which comes after), but earlier in this season. The only evidence of Yvette Picard having any agency is her choice to kill herself. The camera lingers on her death, everything is soft and pretty, then travels backwards in time to show why Jean-Luc blames himself and the entire thing is horrific. There is a parallel storyline about his ancestor who suffers from depression but guess what, she is also being manipulated by Q. Lonely Agnes is manipulated by the Borg to assimilate Earth with the help of Another Terrible Soong, who kept the truth about his daughter from his daughter in order to manipulate her as per usual for Soongs. And then there’s Seven, the only person whose S1 issues were not exacerbated by Romulans, I guess because she was already traumatized by Borg, and I don’t hate her arc of self discovery, but she’s reassimilated without her consent. To save her life yes, but this could be fixed by a three second wordless exchange that showed she wanted it. 

Then there is the depiction of mental healthcare. Spock is institutionalized in Discovery season two and it could be worse but it lacks imagination/relies on stereotypes— he’s locked in a white room in his pjs and writes all over the walls while muttering to himself. In Lower Decks Boimler is sent to a facility when he’s disabled by the transporter and he spends the entire time scared but it turns out to be a paradise. That’s the joke. Maurice Picard inexplicably forgoes any systemic support or modern technology and instead locks his wife in her room with an antique key.

Cornwell is bad at boundaries and dispenses self-help fortune cookie therapy. Deanna literally runs away from Jack and later ignores Data. And she manipulated her husband’s emotions. David Cronenberg’s testing of the Disco crew is hilarious but outdated. Other new Trek therapists include: the Talosians, Q, the Guardian of Forever, Vulcans, the holodeck, Narek, whatever book Worf read. Or just monologue about your traumatic backstory in the middle of a crisis like in Discovery season four.

It’s not all bad. For example, I like Culber’s counseling arc and how it grew out of his own traumatic experience. I really love Raffi's arc (Raffi's everything), her addiction and isolation to self-actualization and community. I love all the character driven conversations about personal trauma and the depth of these relationships: Beverly and Picard, Ro and Picard, Will and Deanna, Soji and Deanna, Raffi and Rios, Michael and Spock, Michael and Georgiou, Dal and Gwyn, etc etc. I love that these are ongoing arcs and things aren’t swept away at the end of an episode never to be heard of again. I love Worf working on himself and Boimler working on himself and Dal working on himself. I love that trauma and recovery are such a huge part of these stories! And I don’t expect perfection. Honestly I love mess. It’s just that I know they have science consultants for the physics and I want them to consult social scientists, too. Because “your mental illness is a part of your brain chemistry/genetic make up, it’s not your fault and we can help you find a way to manage it” is a good message but “your mental illness, and potentially all mental illness, is part of an alien conspiracy” is troubling. 

Note: Jack’s heightened energy in the final scenes of the finale—pacing in the shuttlecraft, chattering on the bridge—is enough for me to determine he’s still neurodivergent post-de-assimilation. “He may be Borg but that’s not all he is”, like Seven, so he’s where he belongs. Whether the trauma of mass assimilation and murder will be addressed in the future or Seven hugging Sidney is all we get must remain to be seen. 

I am once again begging Star Trek to hire a mental health, neurodivergence, and disability consultant.

[four-loose-screws]

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 8 Section 5

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

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———————————

Chapter 8: Noble Lady of Caelin (Section 5)

Within him was a fire that continued to burn and burn.

To put out that fire, the mercenary Raven had chosen the path of revenge.

He had once been Raymond, next-in-line of House Cornwell, one of the families in Lycia through which the title of marquess was passed. But that life all changed when his father committed the crime of embezzlement.

The Lycian League kept an emergency fund that each house contributed to, and that money had been managed by House Cornwell. The role had been bestowed upon that house because they were considered an honest family, however, Raven's father embezzled that money.

Out of the kindness of his heart, Marquess Cornwell paid off many of his friends' debts, putting pressure on his house's finances, until he could no longer pay off his own mounting debts. At a loss for what else he could do, he dipped into the League's emergency fund.

When his crimes were discovered, by the decision of all the other Marquesses, House Cornwell's territory was seized. The marquess' pain was so great that he killed his wife and committed suicide. They left behind Raven and his younger sister Priscilla, still a small child, who was adopted by Count Caerleon of Etruria… and after she was sent out, the only person still there was Lucius, one of the men who had served their house. 

Then, Raven separated himself from the worried Lucius and disappeared. After he changed his name to Raven and became a mercenary, he heard a passing rumor.

"Word has it that Ostia set a trap for House Cornwell to force them into ruin."

He had no idea whether the rumor was true or not. But it meant that House Ostia just might be the people who had taken everything from him.

He did not give everything in his life over to revenge. But as he searched for Hector to get the truth out of him, Raven was consumed by it.

Now as he moved, his gaze was unyielding, attempting to find and capture his target.

But the moment his eyes set on a certain young woman, shock brought him back to his senses.

"You're…"

She appeared suddenly in the middle of the battle inside the castle. She had the same dark red hair as he did, though her eyes were deep green. And her face brought back the memory of his sister's cheerful expression on the day they were separated. 

"...It can't be."

"Um…" Priscilla noticed this mercenary, staring at her as if he was in a trance, and began to respond to him.

"...Do you not recognize me? It's not impossible to consider. You were still so small when we were separated…"

"Hm? …Might you be… my brother, Raymond?"

He fearfully put together the pieces in his head.

After leaving to be adopted, she still did not forget her birth family. Her adoptive parents, the Count and his wife, doted on her as if she was their own, and was extremely grateful for them. But still she could not forget her kind older brother, nor her memories of her birth parents.

And that was why she even put herself in danger to go on a journey.

Raven stared at her, then his mouth finally moved. "You've grown up so much, Priscilla…"

"Brother! My brother!!" She rushed over to him to get a better look at his face.

For a long moment, the two stared at each other, memories of their pasts flooding back to them. 

Then, he looked at her and asked, "What are you doing here? It's been ten years since you were sent to be adopted by Count Caerleon…"

"Yes, and I was. My father in Etruria has been very good to me. But I was born into House Cornwell of Lycia. I have never forgotten my memories of my childhood with my mother and father, nor those of my brother Raymond…"

"...Priscilla…"

Suddenly, her overjoyed face darkened. "...I heard that House Cornwell was lost. That news made me worry so much about you… and our parents…"

"And then you came all the way here from Etruria… I'm so happy to see you safe…"

At a glance, he could tell that she had trained to become a troubadour, and could use healing staves, but was helpless in actual combat. Her coming so far from Etruria to search for him, frankly shocked him.

"In Etruria, after discussing my journey with   a certain someone close to me, he sent his student, a mage, with me to be my guard. But along the way, in Laus… the marquess learned of my lineage, and just as I had fallen into despair, Eliwood and his allies saved me…"

"What…?" Shock flashed across Raven's face.

"Lord Hector and Lady Lyndis are also very kind people, so I am truly happy that I came to Lycia. And my journey is also how I was able to meet you here, Lord Brother…"

"You've… become his ally?" After he said that one sentence, he fell silent, lost in thought. 

Of all things that could have happened, it was the most unexpected of all. She was allied with the person he was to take his revenge out on. 

Priscilla realized something had changed about him, tilted her head to the side, and asked, "Brother?"

"..................Okay. Then I will become one of your allies."

"That makes me so happy! So you'll be coming with me?"

"I could never hurt my little sister. That, and… no, it's better if you don't know."

He cut himself off mid-sentence, and stopped there. If the embezzlement had really been a plot of Ostia’s doing, then the target of his revenge would most likely be Hector. When he made his move, he wanted to avoid her falling into Hector's hands at all costs.

It was also critical that none of them learned that he was a member of House Cornwell.

While he wanted to protect his sister, who had chosen to place herself on this bloody battlefield, he was keeping his thoughts level-headed.

“More importantly, do Eliwood and the others know of your lineage?”

“No, I have not talked to them about it.” She answered, not at all suspicious of why he was asking.

"I see… That’s fortunate."

"Brother?"

"Priscilla, you must keep any information about us a secret. Is that okay?"

"Yes, I don't mind it, but…"

"And my name now is Raven. The name Raymond, I have… abandoned it."

Those words made her stop questioning him. "Brother… You must have your reasons. I understand. So long as I can travel with you, that is enough…" She said with an innocent smile. "If we continue our travels… surely we'll be able to meet Father and Mother, right?"

Raven froze. "Priscilla, about that…" At his sister's question, Raven was at a loss for words.

Priscilla knew about the embezzlement, but it was because of it that she did not know of their parents' murder-suicide. While he was surprised, he decided it probably best for her that she did not know yet.

And with that thought, he kept his mouth shut tight.

ー

Having reunited with his sister and decided to ally with Eliwood, Raven immediately returned to the prison.

The guard soldiers did not realize that he had already betrayed them, and had their guards completely down. 

Raven defeated them in a matter of seconds, then released the Caelin hostages before releasing Lucius.

"Lord Raven! Have you reconsidered?!"

Though Lucius thought that Raven’s actions meant he had come back to save all of the hostages, Raven said coldly to him, "I have no intention of giving up my revenge on Ostia. Keeping my enemies closer might make several things much easier."

Those words made Lucius' face darken.

Raven, though, ignored him, and moved right along to his next destination.

General Bernard was the man commanding the Laus soldiers who had been left behind to buy time. Raven blended himself within the group of panicking soldiers to get close to Bernard, then killed him.

He had done so to gain Eliwood and Hector’s trust, even if only slightly, and get them to let their guards down. They knew nothing of his true motives, and thought of him as a skilled and reliable ally.

They were also much more worried about the elderly Hausen than a new recruit.

"Grandfather? Grandfaaaather! Where are you?!"

Lyn looked in every nook and cranny of the throne room, but Hausen was nowhere to be seen. She ordered their allies to search every corner of the castle, but they saw no sign and heard nothing of him, either.

"Lord Hausen… where are you?!” Eliwood called out in a panic.

Hector, who had been searching around the throne, yelled out to him, "Eliwood. Look here. …There’s blood."

“No! It can’t be!!!” All of the color drained from Lyn’s face.

“...Calm down, Lyndis. He may just be injured. For now, we should search for him…”

“Y-You’re right… If I don’t stay calm, then…” No longer on edge thanks to Eliwood’s words, Lyn sensed another presence - a third person, someone aside from just Eliwood and Hector.

“There! I see someone…!” Lyn shouted in a sharp voice.

Both Eliwood and Hector each drew their weapons and focused their attention in on the pillar Lyn was pointing at.

But when Hector saw the person that swiftly showed themself, he lowered his axe. "You're… well, if it isn't Leila!"

"It is I, Lord Hector. Good to see you again."

Is this an acquaintance of yours?"

In response to Eliwood’s question, Hector immediately nodded.  "Yeah! This is Leila. She serves my house… I mean, she is also what’s known as a spy.”

"You two are Lord Eliwood of Pherae, and Lady Lyndis of Caelin, correct? My name is Leila. I am pleased to make your acquaintance." Leila knelt down on one knee, politely introduced herself, then, without moving, looked up at Lyn and said, "Lady Lyndis, Marquess Caelin is receiving treatment further inside."

"Grandfather is safe?!"

"…He has been saved from death."

"Oh, Father Sky and Mother Earth! I thank you for your compassion!" Lyn said happily in response to Leila’s report. 

Due to not only his old age, but also the after-effects of his poisoning one year ago, she worried greatly about her grandfather. And after seeing that he had even been bleeding, she imagined that the worst case scenario had occurred, and he was dead. But that premonition had been wrong. She put a hand on her chest and breathed a sigh of relief.

Leila then led Lyn to the bedroom where she was able to see him, fast asleep.

"Grandfather…"

He was laying on the bed, his face pale and his breathing ragged even as he slept.

Though she was happy to see him safe, she worried in her thoughts whether or not he would make a full recovery in this state. She looked down at her Grandfather who had suffered so much hardship since the year before, and held back her tears from falling.

ー

[warsighted]

Why ride a star ship when you can ride her captain?

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Twenty Nine

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕

Also if y’all didn’t see, I made an I’m Always Curious Playlist, check it out if you’re interested 😊 Also toying with the next chapter being in Pike’s POV, we’ll see tho

Warnings: Cursing and mentions of canon-typical violence Summary: When I had determined the most appropriate position for the tag and that couldn’t quiet my mind any longer, I headed down to the shuttle bay.

Having had opposing pictures of her character drawn for me by Spock and Tilly, meeting Commander Michael Burnham was a bit of a trip.

The things that Spock had told me about her led me to expect someone austere, distant. But while she was composed, she was cordial, going so far as to make small talk on the way to the Ready Room. It wasn’t in the forced way that it had originally been with Jett, either. Apparently Burnham had heard a fair amount from me from Tilly. Jett joined us in the turbolift, and from there it was a short trek to the Ready Room.

I felt my stomach twist in apprehension as we neared the doors. While I had had some time to process the fact that Pike and I were in close range again, I had spent far too much of the last hour reflecting on the look he’d given me. I was distinctly out of place in the Ready Room. Not only was I the most unfamiliar with the crew, but I was still in my civvies. The Captain was already there, a PADD in hand. His eyes darted to the three of us we entered, but they quickly lowered to the device again as he said, “Commander Burnham, a word, please.” Burnham excused herself from Jett and myself, and I took the moment to look around. I ached with the familiarity - the sight of Chris’ table from Mojave in the room, along with a few other things that had made the trip over from the Enterprise. I drifted toward a window, unable to help my fingers trail over the wood of the table on my way. Jett followed at a pace, glancing at Burnham and Pike before stopping beside me. “Any idea how long Durling’ll take?” She asked. I shook my head a little. “Cornwell just said that he’d be here in a few hours.” At the sound of the Ready Room door opening, I straightened, hands tucking behind my back at attention-- And then I immediately dropped them as I scoffed, “Oh, it’s you.” “Is that any way to greet me?” Eli asked, walking deeper into the room, “You used to stand at attention, be all ‘yessir’ about it.” “I am your superior now, Durling.” “In rank only,” He retorted, coming to stop just in front of me. Despite his words, though, he was pointing that warm smile down at me, like not a day had passed or a thing had changed. And I couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto my face at his familiar gaze and teasing. After the war, Durling had been assigned to the USS Cetus, a temporary post as he awaited an official reassignment. While we spoke from time to time, I hadn't seen him in weeks. “God, I forgot what a dick you were,” Jett grumbled beside us. Eli turned to her, brows raising in surprise. “And it’s good to see you, too, Reno. Especially considering we thought--” “Oh, I know. This one got all misty on me about it,” Jett nodded to me. “Unnecessary detail,” I muttered.  “You can cry? I thought you’d gotten your tear ducts removed back on Starbase 115,” Eli frowned at me. “I would punch you if we weren’t in mixed company.” “Restraint? Wow, that’s new for you.”  We turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind us. Pike was there, brows raised a little. Eli smiled, turning fully from myself at Jett. “Eli Durling,” He introduced himself to both Pike and Burnham. “Commander Michael Burnham. Welcome aboard.” “Christopher Pike,” Pike tacked on as he shook Eli’s hand. Eli glanced back at me, brow raised, and I felt the urge to punch him intensify. Instead I just gave him a slight glare before averting my eyes. He knew about me and Pike. I had spent the last year with the man, we’d spent that time having one another’s backs. He knew all of my secrets— but then, I knew all of his. “We should start the briefing, the target’s nearly in range,” Pike added as dropped Eli's hand. “We’ve never run any 22-9-14s on the Discovery,” Burnham explained. “Well, you’re in luck, because the three of us ran a lot of them," Eli nodded back toward me and Jett. “Define a lot, I mean how many times did you ruin your phaser cannons after you transferred?” Jett asked. “Well,” Eli glanced back at me, “I’m not sure I have a count on the phaser cannons, but I personally ran around a hundred, and the Commander ran a number somewhere in the 300s.” “Somewhere? Where in the 300s?” Jett frowned at me. “I’m not sure that’s pertinent to this briefing, as I don’t have the same penchant for bragging that Lieutenant Commander Durling does,” I folded my arms across my chest. Eli smiled.

“Regardless, you’re in good hands,” He added, turning back to Pike and Burnham, “I’ll coordinate from the Bridge while the Commander takes care of the tagging process. Any questions?” “I’ve got one,” I piped up. “Of course you do--” “What am I tagging?” I asked over him. Eli nodded to Pike’s desk, and Pike stepped out of the way, waving his hand with silent permission. I watched as Eli walked over to it, opening a file and pulling up a holographic display of a ship. I pushed off of the wall and walked over to join him with the others, my eyes wandering the surface of the ship. “Is that a DY-100 Sleeper?” I frowned, bracing my hands on the desk to get a better look. “It is,” He confirmed, “The S.S. Botany Bay.” “You’re familiar with this craft?” Burnham asked. I glanced at her. “Few months into the war, Command was looking for craft that might be able to slip past Klingon sensors. These vessels are antiques— 20th century, decommissioned. Older metals, outdated tech, but high crew capacity.” “And the Botany Bay was used during the war?” Pike asked. I turned back to the hologram. “Only two ships were in good enough condition to shore up and get off of the ground. This was neither of them.” “Maybe it’s just being tracked for longevity, see how long it holds up,” Jett suggested. “No,” I shook my head a little, “No, Cornwell said colony when I came aboard…” I straightened up, folding my arms back across my chest, “We’re either gonna get radio silence or hear some really cryptic shit.” “That’s the spirit,” Durling clapped my shoulder, and I shot him a sidelong glance. “You realize this is gonna be a manual?” I asked him. “Ah-- No,” He laughed nervously, “No, you don’t have time for manual.” “Time or not— Look at the surface area on that thing,” I nodded to the hologram, “If this is an original sleeper class and launched back in the 1990s when they were originally being built, it’s possible that the integrity of the hull is going to be compromised. That means that the arms on the bot are going to be too rough for this task.” “What would you have to do to attach it manually?” Burnham asked.  “She’s gotta eject herself from her ship,” Jett told them. “How much does that differ from a ship-based tag?” Burnham asked. “... It’s different,” Eli tread carefully as he said so. I could feel him eyeing me critically, and I couldn’t help the way my jaw clenched as my stomach swooped with nerves. I hated manual tags the most. There were fewer safety nets: no tether, no easy way back to the ship if something went very seriously wrong--just me and a jet pack and a whole lotta hope. “Considering the fact that Command even authorized this mission in the first place, a manual attachment should be our last resort,” he added, “And who am I to argue with Command?” “Usually the second in line,” Jett answered. “Who’s first?” He frowned. There was a pause as I felt the two of them direct their gazes to me. “I resent that,” I muttered. “Which puts you in direct opposition with Commander Reno, which, given the longevity of her rank, technically puts you at odds with your superior--” Durling muttered. “O-kay.” “What are the steps that we need to get this off of the ground?” Pike asked, cutting over our bickering. I suddenly felt like a schoolkid called out for chatting in class. “Reno needs to look over craft, make sure it’s safe to fly,” Eli told him, “Your ship’s doctor needs to give our pilot a once-over as well, same reason.” I rolled my eyes a little. I was a little tired, more than a little jittery at the prospect of being behind the controls of an attack fighter again, but I had flown and been cleared for flight in worse condition. “Anything else?” Pike asked. “No,” Eli shook his head, “Barring any complications, we should be set to launch… round 1800 hours.” “If that’s the timeline, I’m gonna go get some sleep,” I straightened, “Thanks guys.” I turned away, heading for the door as I heard Durling pipe up: “Oh, and Commander?” “Yes,” I turned back, “Lieutenant Commander?” Durling took a moment, eyes sweeping down my body, then up again. “Where are we with that uniform?” I forced out a little laugh before nodding once, “I’m gonna leave now.”

-- I knew that I needed to get rest, but the prospect of a manual tag kept had set my mind racing. Instead I studied the schematics that I had available for a DY-100. And when I had determined the most appropriate position for the tag and that couldn’t quiet my mind any longer, I headed down to the shuttle bay. -- “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Jett almost scowled at the sight of me stepping onto craft. “Not tired,” I fibbed. Jett gave me a short look before lowering herself beside the control panel. “Make yourself useful, then, pass me the magna-spanner.” I crouched down beside Jett’s toolkit and found the requested implement before passing it to her. Once I had, I sat on the floor of the craft, leaning back against the wall and looking around the small cabin. It seemed so much more confining than I remembered— crammed with measuring instruments, controls, an emergency med pack. I directed my gaze toward the hatch in the ceiling, the one I’d be pushing myself out into open space from in just a short while. “So,” Jett spoke up, “What’s the plan after this?” I smiled at the question— just like old times. “Maybe get some more pie?” I offered. “And sugar crash later?” “Mhm. It’s the risk you take when you eat the hard stuff.” “And after that?” “...Dunno. Maybe something that actually utilizes what I went to the Academy to do. You know, speak and translate something other than Klingon, work with texts and languages we’re less familiar with…” “But we put our dreams away?” “But we put our dreams away.” Jett leaned back, tossing the magna-spanner at me. I caught hold of it, depositing it in the toolbox. She humphed, “Well, you’re morose as shit, but your reflexes seem to be in good order. Should be helpful, huh, Captain?” I frowned before I heard, “Yes, it should.” My head was turned from him, and I had been focused on other parts of the ship, but I hadn’t even heard him come aboard. I glanced up at Pike to find him standing with his hands tucked behind his back. He cleared his throat. “Doctor Pollard needs to examine you,” He nodded over his shoulder. “Right,” I pushed myself to stand before glancing down at Jett, “You’re set here?” “Please leave,” Was her smiling answer. I smiled a little myself, shaking my head before following Pike off of the craft. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he had to duck to ensure he didn’t hit his head on the way out. A brief wave of embarrassment crested over me when he glanced back at the sound. Pollard and Eli were in the shuttle bay, not too far off from the craft. The introductions were short as I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it to Eli. He caught it without a question or hesitation, hardly missing a word as he regaled Dr. Pollard with the story of his part in the Battle of Xisad. She seemed to only be listening out of politeness, humming in response now and again. Knowing Eli, though, this chatter was meant to distract all of us from what I was about to do. Dr. Pollard’s hand skimmed over my left shoulder blade and I jolted a little, tensing as I sucked in a sharp breath.  “Alright?” She asked. I nodded as I heard her switch to the scanner on her tricorder. “Quite a lot of scar tissue,” She added. “Caught the wrong end of a bat’leth,” I explained flatly. “Is there pain?” “No.” “Does it hinder any of your movements?” “No.” When Pollard returned her hand to that same area, fingers carefully massaging the area to ensure the truth of my statement, I held carefully still. “...Is there a right end of bat’leth?” Eli asked, breaking the tense silence from our superiors. “The side without the pointed blade would’ve been preferable,” I told him, glancing in his direction. “You’re so particular,” He scoffed, but he was smiling. I shook my head a little, feeling the tension drain from me a little. “Well, apart from a slightly elevated heart rate, everything seems to be in order," Pollard reported from behind me. “That’s not a concern?” Pike asked. “According to the Commander’s prior medical records, there is typically some uptick in heart rate prior to these particular missions. She’s fit to fly," Pollard tucked her tricorder into its holder. I gave her a small nod of thanks. “And yet not outfitted to fly. Starfleet regulation 67: an officer acting in the interests of the Federation must be in uniform to command or commandeer any vessel,” Durling rattled off. I hummed, nodding, “An excellent point, Lieutenant Commander, but you seem to be forgetting Starfleet regulation 67-A: In the event of an emergency procedure, Starfleet personnel are permitted to eschew Federation vestments as the mission demands. Or have you forgotten who that rule had to be instituted for?” Durling shuffled closer, holding my jacket back out to me as he muttered, “Can’t recall.” “Well— that’s hilarious, because I can. And I’ll be in a Starfleet flight suit, I do believe that that counts as uniform.” “It does,” Pike piped up. “Exactly— thank you, Captain.” “Anytime, Commander.” “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get changed and run through the pre-flight checklist with Jett,” I added. I thanked Pollard again before I turned, heading back to the attack fighter. Anytime, Commander. Two words. Easy. Two words that set my heart racing faster than the prospect of a manual tag-and-run did. Tag list: @angels-pie​​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​​  ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​​ ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know​​ ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles​​ ; @inmyowncorner​​  ; @tardis-23​​ ; @2manyfandoms-solittletime​ ; @paintballkid711​​ ; @katrynec​​​ ; @hypnobananaangelfish​​ ; @elen-aranel​​ ; @blueeyesatnight​​

[baubeautyandthegeek]

I Think I Love You - Ro Laren/Katrina Cornwell

A/N: Kat rescues Ro, doesn’t she? AU as of last episode of Picard. Thanks to @cleverlycrusher​ for giving me feels.... and a new ship.  

“Sholey solem…” It takes a minute for Ro to register that she is, in fact, not dead. Singed a little, sore, pissed off… but alive. Every instinct tells her to yell, scratch, claw at this other woman and she almost, almost does, pinning the woman to the floor, flat on her back, phaser to her chin. Then she recognises her. Katrina Cornwell. Dead, supposedly. “Ah’no balchi…” Ro’s voice is husky, soft and full of pain. Katrina waits for a moment, merely taking in this tall, thin, headstrong warrior who despite being slightly burnt and definitely shaken had still defaulted to fighting for her life, before gently pushing Ro off her, quick to catch her head in a palm when Ro comes a little to close to hitting her head on the floor. “Don’t be… are you alright?” “Are you?” Ro asks with a slight laugh, moving to stand, then pull Katrina up, dusting her off lightly. “What the hell did you even do?” “Perks of being essentially immortal… I kinda… pulled you out of the shuttle at the last minute.” “Yeah, that’s…” Ro shakes her head then huffs a laugh. “Thanks? I guess.” “You’re welcome… I guess.” Kat’s smirk is clear and Ro wants so badly to shove her for her cheek, but she can’t help smiling. Then Kat surprises her, holding out a hand, an earring laying flat in her palm. “How…” “Like I said, immortality perks.” Kat still didn’t really understand how she’d made it through the explosion, she didn’t much care, she’d been spared to save this woman. Destiny, perhaps. She’s still smiling at Ro, even now and Ro pauses then speaks softly. “You mind helping…” “Put it on? It would be my honor.” Kat promises and she’s truthful about that, Ro knows that instantly, her smile fades as she focuses, gentle, cautious, still very much the same woman who had caught her head before she smacked it against the floor.  Despite everything, Ro feels a flicker of attraction. Can she really be that lucky? “Joi… I mean…” “I know. Sasi.” The simple gesture of whispered Bajoran melts Ro just a little and she pauses before she speaks softly. “So are we… am I…” “People will think you died but… I’m pretty sure you just joined me in immortality…” “Is that why the…” “Singed skin? Probably.” Kat mutters, guiding Ro naturally towards the medical wing. They are alone here, she will have to do, and then she fixes the burns, her smile soft when Ro blushes and adjusts the singed shirt. “Nothing to be ashamed of… we all have our scars.” Her words are true, Ro finds, Kat has long since freed herself from her jacket, choosing to simply wear her tank top, displaying proud scratches and scars, the cut to her collarbone drawing Ro’s attention a little too easily and Kat smiles slightly when she reaches, then stops herself. “It’s okay… go ahead.” Ro shakes her then, muttering a quiet curse. “I…” “Yes?” “I think… I think I love you, is that… possible?” Kat’s smile is bright then and she laughs, a sound so gentle and pure that Ro swears she could spend a lifetime making her laugh like that. “I hope so…” Kat’s voice dips softly. “Pretty sure I love you too.” Bajoran Translations: “Welcome Back” “I’m Sorry” “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.”

[peerlessscowl]

Psalms of the Living

hosannan

There are psalms of the living whispered amidst the sheets of rain. She knew she had someone waiting for her at home, but Nanna would not rest until she redeemed herself worthy in her own eyes. It was strange, really. There had always been a silent knocking in her head, preening her feathers and asking of her something that did not come easy. Her people looked to her to heal— in her presence she corralled rays of light to shower upon the injured. It was beautiful, heartrending work, tasked to her as a duty, a message, an unspoken symbol. But the sword had always come easier to her. This she kept close to her chest, knowing that the Earth spoke and she could come back trembling. As she worked tirelessly to hone her skill in magic, Nanna knew where her heart was truly buried.

As she breathed, a gossamer of warmth vanished into the rain. Her fingers frayed, spread intently to curry any sparks, any embers that were intent on fluttering out of her lifestream. Nothing. Again then. She bit down on the side of her cheek, praying to any which god to grant her magic on this land. Baldr? Bragi? Faint strings of light met each of her fingertips, and she gasped— breaths steadying to make good on a cat’s cradle. However, as lightning cracked, Nanna felt her soul jolt out of her system, causing the faint strings of magic to sputter into lifelessness.

She would pray again. She must pray again. Her hands trembled, trying to make do. Reason-based magic was different than Faith, correct? What was she to do when these prayers did not consolidate with her very own reason? On these lands, she understood the concept yet remained a stranger in execution.

Lightning struck again, closer still. And Nanna wondered… what of the moon? She knew she was close to a breakthrough, but there was nothing to show. All but her silk lined uniform soaked, and the rain cutting straight to bone.

Nanna gained one skill point. Reason E -> E+.

She could sing psalms of the living all she wanted, but, in the name of the rain, there was only one clear answer calling back.

Raven never allowed himself to forget that he was a ghost. He moved about the monastery, living this stolen life, and occasionally he found that there were those here who liked what they saw when Raymond, the Student was on display – but he never fooled himself. Raymond was a puppet on borrowed time, loan after loan, begging the saints to just give him a little more time! 

But he could not afford to let himself forget: Raymond of Cornwell was dead. Just like his mother, just like his father, just like -  

He squeezed his fist tight around the hilt of his sword, the first drops of rain announcing their presence on his face as an interruption to his thoughts, a chastisement for the direction they were going. 

What right did a ghost have to bother the living? Raymond of Cornwell had had a sister, once upon a time, but she had been ripped from him just as everything else had. No. Kinder. 

It didn't matter. She was gone. 

The drops that had fallen in warning seemed unforgiving in that moment, their herald rather late as thousands of their fellows fell to the earth in quick succession, splattering his hair to his forehead. He scoffed, ducking under the eaves of the training area and out into the academy quad. It was an unfortunate journey from there to his dormitory, even if he made a break for it – better the long way round, catch the last bell for dinner, wait for the rain to pass. 

The lightning flashed nearby, and Raven sped his pace, raising an arm to shield himself, and within moments the thunder followed, a hollowed boom that echoed in his chest. Then, again, and from the corner of his eye Raven caught the shape of a person, alone, huddled against themselves. 

"Hey," he called out over the din. With a frown, he changed direction – best to see if they were all right. "Hey!" he called again. 

The lightning seared against the sky once more, and Raven froze, the world around him stilling to silence, silence louder than the rain, louder than the heart in his chest, louder than the sound of laughter echoing in a corner of his mind, two children tucked away in safety, the sparkling of green eyes and the flash of a smile piercing through him and leaving him cold. 

[mylittleredgirl]

trekathon: disco 1x04

“the butcher’s knife cares not for the lamb’s cry”:

okay

remember how in the last post i was like “context is for kings” is a title for the star trek hall of fame

“the butcher’s knife cares not for the lamb’s cry” is the opposite. banished. no joke, i stopped watching discovery when it aired the first time around for like a month because i saw that title and went “actually i am a fragile soul and i do not want to see what’s behind a door labeled the butcher’s knife cares not for the lamb’s cry.” 

which is a shame because that was a month of my life in which i did not know that michael made friends with a tardigrade the size of a small car.

EvilWatch 2255:

michael gets invited to lorca’s chamber of horrors, which features the deadliest weapons in the galaxy and what may or may not be a cardassian vole vivisected on a table

“i study war,” he explains, which -- in my experience -- is exactly what one can expect an angry white man to say when they show you the functioning arsenal they keep in their garage

i love knowing that lorca is a long-suffering mirror universe transplant because his frustration at discovery’s lack of battle-readiness makes sense in context -- he’s a military-minded captain trying to helm a science ship in a bloody war -- but it’s hilarious when you realize he’s looking around at these meek science softies like “i have seen ALL of you murder AT LEAST one person with your bare hands can you PLEASE up your game a little”

meanwhile, klingons:

i remember being surprised to learn that voq and l’rell had a love affair, so i’m keeping an eye on it this time

that’s definitely the most sexually charged removal of a dilithium processor i’ve ever seen so i buy it

i don’t know what kind of awards we should be giving these actors for creating such vibrant performances in another language under 90 pounds of latex and contacts that fill their entire eyes but uhhhh i’m fucking impressed

i recall people being WILDLY upset about the exo-cannibalism thing as non-canon, as though klingons in all series do not regularly exchange recipes for eating the hearts of their enemies

that said? toss a dollar in the tip jar of whichever writer went “you know what, this should probably be one of those tell-don’t-show narrative beats”

michael burnham must suffer:

her shoving the package under the bed and walking away as soon as she hears “last will and testament” is unfortunately the most relatable thing

petition for michael to lovingly install that magical telescope in her ready room in season 4 🔭😍 

i’m fascinated by michael and saru’s conversation when they seem to agree that she was dismissive of him (she calls herself “selfish”) on the shenzhou. i wish we’d gotten to see more of that in flashbacks so we can better appreciate how she’s grown over the series.

“you will fit in very well with captain lorca” is a lot to say when lorca has just played the audio of dying children screaming for their dying parents over the entire comm system to shame one dude

but nnngggg it’s so INTERESTING how lorca chose these mirror images of the deranged people he knew and tries to enhance the darkest parts of them.

other characters:

lines for owo!! hugh is here! 

we really should not have been surprised that detmer eventually has a nervous breakdown

honestly i love paul’s prickliness in a way i didn’t the first time around. he just wants to talk to his mushrooms and not to people, ok.

admiral cornwell is somehow already exhausted

saru like u USE me?? for my GANGLIA????

we hardly knew ye: “lorca thought you and i would make a good team,” landry says, and i can only assume that in the mirror universe their team dynamics work better than michael as the screaming voice of reason while landry tries to bum-rush an unstoppable living tank and then dies about it.

an ongoing list of ~It’s Not Canon~ things i have chosen to ignore:

“the nature of humanity is just that every so often someone accidentally invents holographic communications again” (see also: those three episodes of deep space nine; the 32nd century)

other moments of delight:

landry saying “weps are double-hot” to announce that tactical is on-line is amazing and i will now imagine tuvok saying that every time janeway asks him to ready phasers

michael getting slurped at by the tardigrade

free-range tardigrade in the spore garden!! 

[verbumproxen]

Remember that time when I said I had a love-hate relationship with terminal illness used in fiction?

Well the love kicked in.

I wrote this (a few of my friends have already seen this hahaha) but I worked up the nerve to post it here.

and of course this is my coping mechanism against the hell onslaught that is my university life right now and the upcoming two parter that are both determined to wreck my life.

It’s a drabble/fanfic inspired by one of my favorite terminal illness AU’s adapted for my favorite Star Trek Captain atm: Philippa Georgiou + it has Keyla and Admiral Cornwell rn (Michael’s in it but Im too shy to show that part) 

A little background: Its an AU (still set in the future) where Philippa is an award winning author (not sure of what yet), Keyla is her PA, Katrina is her doctor (yes, I know she’s not that type of doctor but for the sake of it let’s pretend she is).

Philippa paces the length of the hotel room she's been set up at. There's only a few hours until the conference and her presentation and she can't help the feeling of anxiety creeping up her throat. Her heart is hammering in her chest and she could feel the cold sweat slick down her back. She tries to focus on the sounds of her feet meeting the carpeted floor of her hotel room, creating soft thumping sounds and reverting back at her. She knows she shouldn't be this nervous as she's done this before.

Keyla enters the room with a soft swish of the door sliding open, her hands are full of padds containing the notes of her presentation and communication files from the conference executives detailing the schedule of the day. She's all too occupied with her hands, but a fleeting look to her boss makes her place the padds down and hand her a glass of water instead.

"You need to drink." Keyla reminds her. "You look pale."

"I'm always pale." Philippa murmurs behind her glass. She quickly finishes the water — the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. It does nothing for her nerves, though.

"You also need to calm down." Keyla looks up from one of the padds. Philippa hasn't noticed that she has already started filling through them. "You'll do great."

Philippa nods. She starts walking again, but decided to abandon her pacing for a comfortable chair near Keyla. She picks up one of the padds — or tries to — her hands are shaking terribly and the padd almost slips from her hands. Keyla's insane reflexes move lightning quick and saved the padd from its untimely demise. Philippa doesn't look up, knowing Keyla's eyes are most likely full of worry as usual. She clutches her hand instead, fisting them together to stop them from shaking.

"You feel okay?" Keyla asks instead. "Maybe we should go see Dr. Nambue before your presentation."

"I feel fine, probably just nervous." She automatically replies, mustering a small smile for her assistant. She probably looks not very convincing, because Keyla's arms cross on top of her chest and looks at her inquisitively. At her look, Philippa finds herself chucking at her assistant.

She pats her assistant's hand and Keyla rewards her with a tentative smile before shaking her head and goes back to the padds. Philippa stands to move to the bathroom, intent on getting ready, but her knees suddenly turned to jello and she feels herself falling.

"Philippa?" Everything's a bit fuzzy and confusing, but Keyla's worried face and voice cuts through the foggy faze. Her body feels strangely foreign  —  like she's having an out of body experience. "Can you hear me?"

She tries to answer, but she hears that it comes out in grunts. She also tries to get up — or move at all — but her body is paralyzed. Her chest suddenly spikes with pain, her hand moves to clutch her chest involuntarily. She curls up into a fetal position in a vain attempt to relieve the pain. It's almost all consuming, there's nothing else to note but her chest threatening to burst out of its cavity. Faraway, she can hear Keyla's frantic tones, but the pull of unconsciousness overpowers her and she sinks into darkness.

------------

"I think she should come back to DC, I can arrange for a discrete medical transport—" Philippa awakens to a distinct commanding tone and the hum of a computer nearby. She quickly takes in her surroundings, the window next to her shines some of the sun on her face and the soft and steady beat of the monitors click in her ears. She tries to gulp, but finds her throat incredibly dry. She raises her hands for only it brush against the cold plastic of an oxygen mask propped on her face.

"Hey Pippa." The voice from the computer speaks.  Philippa turns to face Kat's holographic form, her face full of worry. "How are you feeling?"

She tries to answer but coughs instead. She feels someone hand her a glass of water with a straw and she unclasps the oxygen mask as she sips greedily. The person pulls away her cup almost too soon and disengages her oxygen mask. Philippa spies a flash of red hair — Keyla — as she moves to replace the mask with a nasal cannula.

"Like shit." She manages after Keyla adjusts her cannula. Her voice is incredibly raspy to her ears and she could see Keyla grimace as she spoke.

"You gave us quite the scare there." Kat says, her arms crossing in front of her chest. She's in her medical whites, which would suggest that she's in the hospital working instead of her personal office.

She's here as her doctor then, not as her friend.

"What happened?" She asks, but she turns to Keyla. Hearing it from Kat just makes it more morbid— or real. She may not be a doctor, but she understands the language of medicine better than average people. How couldn't she? Spending more than enough years of her life ridden with this disease.

Keyla shrugs, however, and turns to Kat's hologram. Philippa finds her friend's face turn mournful for a split second, before the mask of the cool and composed Dr. Cornwell takes over.

"You collapsed." Kat says. "We're still looking up what caused it, but it seems like your usual episode. All the markers are the same, except for the intense chest pain. We'll have to take some scans to be sure."

Philippa looks at her hands, one of them snaked with wires from numerous IV treatments. Her finger is clipped with a oximeter, but she doesn't feel the usual biting sensation it often leaves on her. She doesn't look back at Kat, but instead buries herself deeper into the biobed. She must have looked devastated, because Kat's tones become softer as she spoke.

"It's going to be okay, Pip." She concludes. "Do you want to come back here?"

She shakes her head. "I need to finish the conference."

Kat nods, but speaks when she sees Philippa not meeting her gaze. "Okay. You can get discharged if your condition continues to improve."

"Thanks, Kat." Philippa mutters from her spot, before turning her head away completely.

Katrina and Keyla share a look. Kat sighs, loud enough for the comm to pick it up and transmit it over.

"Get some rest." The comm clicks off.

[princess-aethelflaed]

Reverse Unpopular Opinion meme: what are your thoughts on my viking girlfriend Brida?

Your viking girlfriend is admirably passionate, that’s for sure! She’s not my favorite character in the series, but I admire her passion, strength, and fortitude. I love how she always stays true to herself and how her loyalty is unwavering. I think at times Cornwell/the show writers mean to make Uhtred out as a man of loyalty (at least to his ideals), but I think Brida puts him to shame. If she were on my team, I’d trust her with my life. I’d actually love to hear the series retold from her perspective, because I think she has a really interesting one; she’s gone through many of the same (and different) traumas as Uhtred, but has followed a very divergent path. 

Thanks so much for the ask, this was really fun to think about! 

[admiralkatcornwellfan]

We lost THE Admiral

I have No words

She might've been a guest star to some, an Admiral with questionable decisions to Some , or a character who helped the main storyline to many. but to me, She was and is everything.

she was my light in darkest times, the reason I fell in love with DISCO, and the source of strength I latched on to go through with my life. Many people asked why I love her so much. I saw many frown upon my lockscreen whenever she graced it. you know, why love an older woman who is literally same age as your mother ? she is No beauty or wearing tight leather suits or whatever. I fell in love because of the kindness, the empathy, the strength and courage she posessed to go on. War-torn and bleeding, she still went on with everything, never losing her grace. I saw her waiver, almost do questionable things but finally founding the courage and Trust to do the right thing. I saw the person I want to be in my adult life. I saw a person who had strength and courage to help others despite the devastating personal losses. I saw a bit of myself in her.

And her wit, her sass, her sarcasm, My god. she is amazing. I Loved that dimpled grin and mischief glinting in those jade eyes of hers whenever she had a sassy comeback, at a Terran Emperor or Section 31 agent or Starfleet captain.

She might've been slim, but she managed to roar back to a Klingon, to fight one and yet to help a person in need while she was paralyzed down waist. We all heard her roar. and that was what I needed in my life.

She was a part in my life I treasured. I had much to learn from her. Her bravery and her willingness to sacrifice herself for others and the way she faced her death, moved me in such way that I never knew was possible.She was Starfleet. The world feel a little strange to me because Discovery will continue without her in it. we won't see her again. and I haven't come to terms about it and I never will.

She followed the brave women of Discovery and Trek who gave their lives to protect more. Like Captain Georgiou, Airiam,Tasha and many more. And she will never be forgotten.

Her death won't get demands from fans , nor requests , nor petitions because she was No captain Pike, or anyone else for that matter. But she is so important to me. I do not know how I will watch Discovery without seeing her again.

I'm forever greatful to the person who created her character, who wrote her storylines, and to Jayne Brook who was so amazing and brillant bringing her to life.

I was in tears the moment Admiral Cornwell joined Number One to detonate the photon torpedo because I knew It won't end well. And my tears flowed when Pike joined her , and the remainder of episode didn't matter,I saw everything through a fall of tears. I'm already missing her so much.

I honor you, my beloved Admiral. you lived badass, And you died badass too. I just wish you had longer time to share your stories with us.

[carrietrekkie]

An evening in San Francisco.

Hello together!

I wish you all a lovely Sunday evening! We´ll go on where we left Chris and Cathrin, somewhere at the Starfleet High Command in San Francisco!

Enjoy and if you don´t mind, leave me some fb!

@bold-brave-courageous @allthetrek @reeselivesforeverinmyheart

"I didn´t think we would meet again so soon." "Ask us." Tilly grinned over her ears, like all those who were sitting at our table. "Okay, there we have our order." Detmer slipped between Owo and Michael and placed our drinks in the middle of the table. The liquids spilled over a bit, no wonder, this was far from our first round. "And the guy at the bar up front wanted to know who the sweet redhead is."

"Whaaat?" Tilly chuckled, then we all tried to unobtrusively see who was there. "Oh man! Not all at once!" "Yeah, he's cute." I raised my hand and waved to him, he replied somewhat perplexed. "Come on, talk to him!" "No, I will not!" "Yes, you will!" Michael poked her in the arm. "Be spontaneous, otherwise you didn´t fall on your mouth."

"Do it." I took my drink and pulled on the black straw. "Otherwise I'll do it." I raised my eyebrows. Tilly rolled her eyes, rose to her feet, stroking her jacket and making her way to the bar. "Well, then." Owo pushed her glass down to Burnham, then took her own, Detmer followed. "Ladies." We nudged briefly and each took a sip. "Okay, after we talked at length about what it was like after you left Discovery." Detmer grinned at me. "Out with it, how is it on the Enterprise?"

I laughed briefly and looked at them. "How should it be?" "Are you kidding?" The pilot's eyes widened. "The flagship of the fleet and you have nothing to tell?" "It's a huge spaceship! Where the Discovery has a few recreational areas, it has a huge deck, there is a park there, no joke, with a creek! " "Sounds like a dream." "Yeah, I thought so, but the last week looked like this." I sat up and cleared my throat a little. "If I didn´t sleep, I ran after Dr. Boyd in the sick bay or learned. The rest of the time I've spent getting lost and trying to find my way back to my quarters. " Three pairs of incredulous eyes blinked at me. Detmer found her voice first again. "Oh." She gave me a quick jerk at the corners of her mouth. "What did you expect?" I spread my arms. "That was just few days, no more than a long bus ride." "Well, a little bit more spectacular." Owo exchanged a look with Burnham. "It was even more exciting with us." Burnham also looked disappointed and I immediately wished that Tilly's flirtation got in the pants and she would draw the attention again. A look to the side told me, however, that it seemed to be getting wonderful. "How about, you just tell me what you want to hear from me?" I took another sip of my drink. That would be the last one for today. "So who wants to go first?" The three exchanged a few glances, then Michael started to grin and looked at me. "You and Pike." "Um." I grinned a little, I couldn´t help it. "And what exactly?" "What did I miss?" A beaming Tilly swung back on her chair, reached close to her glass and took a sip with soul. "You were right, he is really cute." Then she looked around. "What's going on here?" "We're just trying to pull Cathrin out of her nose, what about her and Pike." Michael cocked her head slightly. "And right now she's trying to pull herself out of the affair." "Ohh no, no, you will not." Tilly raised her finger and moved him back and forth. "Get out of it."

"My dears, that was even more unspectacular." "And we shall believe you that?" Detmer pulled a pout. "I was scared every time you got together on the bridge, the sparks between you, set something on fire." "That's why we don´t really take it from you." I sighed loudly. "You will be disappointed, believe me." "Rubbish." Tilly grinned at me. "Don´t say later, I wouldn´t have warned you." I looked at them all. "We met just once, there he had asked me out on a date and said goodbye with a short kiss." "Ohh." Owo started to interject, but I raised my hand.

"I'll interrupt you." I gave her a crooked look. "He canceled then, in an incredibly sweet way, but still." "Did he say why?" "The spaceship with over two hundred people on board could have been a good reason." I raised an eyebrow. "After that, I saw him only a few times in passing and that the story." "Wow, I was just more successful." Tillys face twisted into a crooked smile. "But just now, you kissed him." "Yeah, but that's it."

"Why are you here?" Michael stirred in her glass. "And not with him?" "Because he has the dazzling pleasure of attending a high command meeting." "Saru mentioned something like that." Tilly looked around for a moment, then waved to her flirtatiousness. "Oh, yes." Detmer rolled his eyes. "Starfleet loses no time." "Are you actually recorded now?" Owo leaned back in her play. "Yes, initially my training is still with Dr. Boyd, then I have to go for about four weeks for a couple of courses, the shuttle license, and the final exam. " "Hey, I have to come here soon, maybe we can do it, that we can share a room!" "That sounds great!" That lifted my mood a lot. "I think that whole should be like this in two months. How are you? " "A research mission, if I still know it." Michael's face revealed that she had to think about it for a moment. "Saru will know more later."

 Detmer and Owo exchanged a look. "We'll be fine for today, girls." We stood up for a moment, hugging each other before they said goodbye and we sat down again. "I'll take a break." I pulled on my straw again. "I still don´t know what tomorrow's going to do, but the day after tomorrow I have to get to a ball and I'll have to get dress for that."

"Oh, the Enterprise Ball." Tilly sighed. "Has one of you been to such an event ever?" "Sorry, too young." Tilly grinned a little dazed. "I've been to something like that, Sarek has been invited to diplomatic receptions more often, but I think that's not comparable." "Which brings me to where I was before. When are you going to break up here?" "Tomorrow morning, if it's not changed." Burnham stood up and together with Tilly we left the bar. Outside, the air was fresh, I pushed the ocean, but it was still beautiful. "Well then, it's time to say goodbye again." "But not for long." Tilly hugged me and I repeated it to Burnham. "And we'll see each other soon, too." She smiled at me. "Look at this time." "Who would have thought that?" I returned it, then stepped back as the two started the Discovery and were beamed up a few seconds later. Here I was, on the forecourt of Starfleet HQ, feeling a bit alone despite the crowd. The building was stunning, I wondered if Christopher was still in there. Many windows were still lit, as were the large rooms on the upper floors. I was tired and yet something was holding me here. I wouldn´t be able to wait here until he came out, who knows when that would be. That reminded me of something that had come to my mind once before, but I'd have to make one, two preparations for that. I smiled slightly, then I pulled out my communicator.

"Zimmer to Chief Louvier." It took a moment for me to got an answer. "Oh hello Ms. Zimmer, what can I do for you?" "I hope I don´t disturb you?" "No, no, I'm just getting ready to visit my family." Louvier was a Frenchman, of course, if he left now, he would be in France early in the morning. "How can I help you?" "Is my car still ready to drive?" I avoided a couple who was totally lost in each other. "Of course. It's loaded and ready to go. "He cleared his throat a little. "I was so free to adapt it a little to today's energy standards, but otherwise everything is as usual." "If time permits, we'll make sure you can go for a spin." I grinned widely, Louvier chuckling a little. "But only if you don´t mind." "Thanks Chief, I just wanted to have it okay before I bring it here tomorrow." "Gladly. Do you need a transport? I'm in transporter room 2 right now." "If you have the time, then one to beam." "That's okay." Then the transporter jet enveloped me and carried me to the Enterprise.

 ******

 It was rude and his nature, but he was so longing for his bed that he couldn´t really suppress a yawn, so at least he tried to camouflage it a bit. "I'm afraid she will not finish at all." Number One pushed another cup of coffee towards him. "How long has this been?" "Almost an hour." Pike emphasized every word extra. "She doesn´t even breathe." "I didn´t even see her blinking." Captain Palma introduced himself. "Do you have another in the pot left Commander?" "Here Sir." Number One passed the pot. "Thanks." The Spaniard poured himself, then repeated this to his first officer. "Chris, will we have another drink together later?" "If we still stand upright then, gladly." The captains grinned at each other. "Or how about breakfast? It cannot take that long for the sun to rise. " A loud hawking from Tralaweney's direction silenced them all, then the commander of the Endeavor sat down again. Admiral Thomas straightened up in his chair, he too looked like he would rather be somewhere else. "Alright, thanks Andrea." "Sir."

"Good, now Captain Pike." He turned and Chris sat straight down. "I have less good news for you and a good one." "Let's start with the good, I think we can all use some cheer up." "Your new crew member, Cathrin Zimmer, right?" He looked at the PADD in front of him. "Yes Sir." He felt the tingle start to stir inside him as the admiral mentioned her name. What was she doing right now?

"Her request to join as a federation citizen was granted, it was out of the question anyway, since she is a citizen of the earth, that she is now well over two hundred and fifty years old, is just a curiosity. Thus, she is now officially a member of Starfleet. Admiral Cornwell had already received her informally. " "Thanks Sir." "I'm looking forward to meet her, you don´t meet someone from a different dimension and time every day." "I'm sure you will not regret it." "Let's hope so." The admiral taps the table. "Until tomorrow you should have the official files on the Enterprise, if you would forward her please. "Aye Sir."

"Let's get to the nastier part." The admiral got up and began to walk around. "It has all pretty much hit us that the Enterprise has fallen victim to such a fatal system failure, even though the report of your Chief Engineer expressly states that every mistake has been resolved."

"And I will sign you without any restrictions." Pike followed him with his eyes. "I know." The admiral smiled slightly. "Nevertheless, it has been decided that the upcoming five-year mission will be suspended for now being and replaced by half-yearly, one-month or emergency missions." Pike and Number One exchanged a surprised look, then Pike spoke up. "Sir, please allow me the question why?"

"A pure security measure." Thomas looked at him. "I know you and your crew are still clinging to sit out the war against the Klingons, but you know the reasons now, and I hope you understand it when we first test the Enterprise." "How should I imagine that?" "Don´t worry, you will not bogged down in the dry dock." He gave Pike a reassuring look. "There is plenty to do and explore, even in the areas closer to the Federation space. The orders will be delivered to you, I think you'll find you busy enough and who knows. "He sighed. "Unexpected often comes.” "Yes, Sir." "Good, then that would be clarified." The admiral sat down again. "I'd say we're ending this, it's late, and Enterprise's time here is certainly limited. Enjoy your shore leave and see you the day after tomorrow for your gala. "Then he got up again and everyone followed him this time. "I wish you a nice evening!"

There were replies, then the admirals left the room and the meeting broke up. Pike reached for his cup. "Sir, I say goodbye." Number One nodded to him. "Yes, of course." He smiled at her. "I assume you have a date?" "I let have him been waiting longer than expected, I'm sure my soufflé is now a cake." "I'm sorry." He took a sip. "Not your fault and I'm sure it still tastes wonderful." She looked around for a moment. "What about you?" "What should be with me?" Pike put down the cup and they also left the conference room. "Do you have a date?"

"With whom?" He tried to look as surprised as possible.

"Oh, don´t act like that." Number One gave him one of her unfathomable glances. “You are in love with Cathrin, head over heels! Why else would you have asked her to come with you to the Enterprise? " "I thought I was giving her a chance she didn´t have on Discovery." "That you can tell the Admiral." They left headquarters over the great staircase. "Just the look with which you looked at her today on the bridge was enough to betray you." "Nothing escapes you." Pike stopped as she did. "Chris, honestly, why not? You're in love and I'm very sure she feels the same, you just have to find a way to get together. " "It's not like I have not tried that for several weeks." He smiled at her. "I even asked her for a date and then I had to cancel, there were countless occasions when there was only a blink left and still." Pike spread his hands. "I'll go home alone now and try not to think about what might be."

"And everyone says Boyd is a drama queen." Number One placed a hand on his forearm, only fleetingly, in her case an incredibly warm gesture. "You have the perfect opportunity the day after tomorrow, take advantage of it or you will regret it forever." "Thanks Number One." Then he pointed past her. "You are expected. Good night." "Good night, Captain."

She smiled at him, then went down the last steps to a tall, dark-skinned man, reaching for one hand, then strolling out into the still-busy night of San Francisco. Pike put his head back and looked up at the stars, then sighed. As if enough hadn´t going on in his head. For a moment he thought about spending the night in his house, but finally decided on his bed on the Enterprise. Tomorrow was another day. Barely out of the transporter room he ran into Dr. Boyd arms. The ship's doctor was in a blinding mood despite the late hour. "Captain." He grinned at him, which Chris could only painfully reciprocate. "Are you coming or going?" "I have just come from one, let's call it, exhilarating session and I am on my way to bed. That was the plan anyway. " "Who should stop you?" "You." "Me? No, I'm just passing through. "Boyd raised a finger. "But I wanted to remind you that you should definitely take some rest tomorrow. If possible not on the Enterprise. "He stopped and Pike involuntarily rejoined him. He knew that lecture by heart, but he was sure he would listen to it again. "This old lady will start the day after tomorrow to a new deep space mission." "No, it will not." Chris kept going, he really wanted to go to bed. "What do you mean?" Boyd needed a moment before he processed the information, then went back to the captain.

 "The High Command has decided that at first we will only do short missions, if possible in the Federation space. The memo went out earlier, I think everyone read it till tomorrow." "Oh, what interesting news." The doctor smiled. “That means that Ms. Zimmer could easily take her required courses at the academy. Which, of course, means she has to leave the Enterprise for a short time every now and then. " Chris was glad Boyd couldn´t see him rolling his eyes. As if he hadn´t even thought of it. "I'm sure she'll consider that." He glanced sideways and stopped when he realized where he was. 2518, her quarters.

"She's not there." Boyd was standing right next to him when he looked at him, he smiled at him. "She's here somewhere, but not in there." "I was just thinking." "Yes, yes, let it be good Chris." The hand of his chief doctor landed on his shoulder. "I may be old, but I'm not blind." Pike just blamed it on his tiredness that he just didn´t quite come along. "You are in love." "Phil." He looked at him. "Denial useless, believe me." He tapped his hand twice on his shoulder before he rose and pointed at him. "And even though Ms. Zimmer is a truly amazingly talented and capable young woman and it's an incredible honor and pleasure to teach her something, I'm so brave and make the assumption that's not the real reason she's here is." "Did you speak with Number One?" "No, how come? Would she agree with me? "Boyd grinned crookedly. "That would be necessary again."

 Pike closed his eyes and tried hard to get them open again. "I'm going to bed." "Alone?" "Get on someone else's wick." He usually enjoyed the company of Phil Boyd, but he was just too tired for that, and he didn´t want to say anything he later regretted. "Good night Captain!" "Good night Doc!" After a few meters, he reached his quarters, entered and barely through the door, he loosened his collar and pulled on the zipper of the jacket.

Four hours!

Four hours and the end of the song was that they had been put on ice. Of course he understood the motives and he advocated them, but he knew that the crew would still be disappointed. But, as the admiral had said, postponing is not suspended and the prospect of one or the other regular service was not the worst.

He slipped out of his jacket, followed by the shoes, then dropped to the couch and leaned his head back, allowing himself for a few minutes to enjoy the silence that surrounded him. When he raised his head again, his gaze fell on the music file Cathrin had given him. Smiling, he reached for the piece of technology and turned it between his fingers. He had only managed to listen to a fraction of the songs on it. For some she had written short notes, not nearly all. Pike swung his legs off the couch, put the carrier on a console, and the computer called up the files.

"Computer music."

Chris made his way to his bathroom, undressed and stepped under the shower, then got dressed and dropped to his bed halfway relaxed. Had he guessed that Cathrin was not ten yards away, also lying on her bed and listening to exactly this piece, he wouldn´t have fallen asleep so fast.

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