My Star Trek One-Shots

Christopher Pike - Temporal Drift

Explosions rumbled. Lights flickered. Officers shouted updates over the chaos. Then—

A crack of white light slashed through the air behind the helm. Out of nowhere, a young woman stumbled forward in denim shorts, high-top sneakers, and a tie-dye crop top, clutching a tote bag with a broken phone inside.

She looked up. Right into the eyes of Captain Christopher Pike.

Daisy's eyes went wide. ". . . Damn, Daddy."

The bridge went silent for a full two seconds before Lieutenant Spock pivoted sharply in his chair and announced, "Unknown civilian presence on the bridge."

Pike was taken aback but regained control. "Security. Get her off the bridge—now."

Daisy threw her hands up. "Okay, okay! Chill, tall-dark-and-broody. I come in peace!"

Security took her to the captain's ready room. Daisy paced the room like a caged cat, inspecting the sleek design, tapping at a PADD like it's an iPad, completely unimpressed by futuristic protocol.

The doors hissed open. Captain Pike walked in, uniform a bit mussed from battle. He was calm, but clearly in command.

"Miss Derrick, was it?" Pike asked.

"That's me. Daisy. Twenty-three. From San Diego. Or . . . was." Daisy watched him, eyebrows raised with amused appreciation. "Are all starship captains that hot, or is it just you?"

Pike didn't blink. "You appeared in the middle of a classified Starfleet engagement. Care to explain how?"

Daisy shrugged. "I was literally ordering Thai food from my couch. Next thing I know, I'm face-first on your bridge while people are getting blasted by killer robots."

"Control," Pike corrected.

"Sounds like a bad ex."

Pike sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. But he couldn't help the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

The ship became quiet. Repairs went underway. The war was over. Daisy had become . . . a fixture. Nobody quite knew what to do with her. She roamed the halls barefoot, asking engineers annoying questions, and somehow had charmed half the crew.

And she kept showing up wherever Pike is.

"You should smile more," Daisy said. "Might make that hero complex of yours a little less broody."

Pike arched a brow. "You know I could assign you quarters far away from this deck."

"Aw, but I like the view," Daisy said.

There was no mistaking what she means. Pike cleared his throat and looked away.
But the corners of his mouth twitched again.

Weeks later, they sat in silence, watching stars slip by outside the window.

"I don't know what brought me here," Daisy said softly. "But I'm not in a hurry to leave."

"You've turned the Enterprise upside down," Pike commented.

"Maybe it needed a little shake."

A long pause. He studied her, that guarded look still in his eyes—but warmer now. Softer.

"You're impossible," Pike said.

Daisy grinned. "And you love it."

He didn't answer. But he didn't deny it either.

Pike watched her for a second. "I'm told you've made yourself at home."

"Not like I had a choice. Everyone keeps saying they can't find a way to send me back. Whatever fried time and space to get me here . . . it's fried for good." She looked at him—that impossibly principled, quiet man standing in the light of a dying star. "I miss home. But I'm not running toward it either."