My Star Trek One-Shots

Christopher Pike - When the Stars Call You Back PT 2

The transporter light faded, and Bentley "Bennie" Terec landed hard against the deck of the USS Enterprise—again.

Only this time, it was different.

The air was tense. Red alerts blared faintly through the corridor walls. The crew moved with grim precision. She could feel it—the unease, the impending weight of something. Then she saw the mission log on a nearby console and her heart plummeted.

It was that day.

The moment.

The incident that would leave Christopher Pike disfigured, bound to a chair, voice silenced but mind still sharp. The moment that would fracture him forever—and inspire his greatest sacrifice.

But he hadn't reached that fate yet.

Not if she could stop it.

She didn't waste time explaining herself. She barged into the transporter room and demanded a direct line to Captain Pike.

"Get me to him," she said, voice shaking. "I know what's going to happen. You have to trust me."

Security was called. Spock arrived within minutes. He narrowed his eyes when he saw her. "Miss Terec."

Bennie blinked. "You remember me?"

"I never forget a paradox."

That earned a weak smile.

Soon after, Pike appeared, all steel and calm confidence—until he saw her. His breath caught for half a second.

"Bennie?" he whispered, stepping forward.

She looked different—older, her hair longer, darker. Her clothes were soaked from her time-jump. But her eyes still held that same spark he remembered.

"I don't have time to explain," she told him. "You can't go to the training vessel today. You're walking into an ambush. A radiation surge. Cadets will die, and you'll . . . you'll save them, but it'll cost you everything."

Pike's face tensed, jaw locking.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I was sent back again. And time doesn't make mistakes."

He looked at her like she was a dream—and maybe a nightmare.

But he listened.

Together, with Spock's help and Bennie's half-cryptic knowledge, the Enterprise launched a covert recon ahead of the planned training mission. They discovered a faulty containment grid set to overload. Sabotage, disguised as a systems error.

The cadets were rerouted to a safer ship. The mission was postponed.

And Pike lived.

Whole.

Unscarred.

The future shifted.

That night, the ship was quiet. The stars hung still outside the wide observation window in Pike's quarters. Bennie sat across from him, her boots kicked off, a glass of something dark and smooth in her hand. Pike nursed his own drink, but his eyes were on her.

He couldn't stop looking.

She had changed. Not just physically—though the longer hair and faint laugh lines suited her. There was a depth to her now. A steadiness. A woman who had seen too much of time and loved enough to carry it.

"You saved me," he said softly.

"You saved so many," she countered. "I just made sure you got to keep saving them."