My Star Trek One-Shots

Chris Pike x Michael Burnham PT 2

The room aboard the Starbase medical facility was dominated by the rhythmic, mechanical pulse of a life-support grid.

Captain Christopher Pike sat rigidly upright in the delta-wave chair—a heavy, matte-black containment unit that encased his body from the neck down. His face was weathered and scarred from the horrific burst of delta radiation during the training vessel accident. His body was entirely paralyzed, his breathing assisted by silent internal pumps, and his only form of communication was a single, piercing light on the front panel of the chair.

One beep for yes. Two beeps for no.

To the rest of Starfleet, Chris Pike was a tragic hero resting in terminal care, a legend reduced to a flashing light in a silent room. But to those who had known him at his height, he was a soul trapped behind a wall of impenetrable glass.

Light-years away, nestled deep within the thirty-second century, Michael Burnham felt the phantom ache of a promise made in another era.

Through a rare, highly experimental temporal relay—a microscopic subspace tear stabilized by the lingering traces of the Red Angel suit's quantum signature—Michael managed to send a single, directional impulse back to the twenty-third century. It wasn't a message of text or voice, which would have risked fracturing the delicate, rebuilt timeline. It was a targeted sub-quantum frequency, encoded with a mathematical sequence known only to two people in the galaxy: herself and her brother, Spock.

Aboard the USS Enterprise, Starfleet Officer Spock received the anomalous ping on a classified science terminal.

When the logic of the telemetry resolved, the conclusion was inescapable. The signature belonged to his sister. The coordinates pointed directly to Talos IV—a planet strictly off-limits under Starfleet's General Order 7—and the payload of the transmission contained a single, clear directive regarding Captain Christopher Pike.

Spock did not hesitate. Driven by a deep, unyielding loyalty to both his former captain and his sister, Spock commandeered the Enterprise, risking a court-martial and execution to bring the incapacitated Pike to the forbidden world of Talos IV.

When the Enterprise entered orbit around the craggy, desolate surface of Talos IV, the Talosians—masters of illusion and mental projection—opened a localized rift in the planet's upper atmosphere. But this was not merely to offer Chris a life of mental fantasy, as the native inhabitants had once proposed.

As Spock brought the delta-wave chair down to the surface via a specialized shuttle, the air before them began to shimmer with a intense, violet radiation. Space-time folded back like a curtain, exposing a localized temporal rift generated by advanced thirty-second-century tech.

Stepping through the shimmering veil of light came Captain Michael Burnham.

Spock stood perfectly still, his Vulcan composure severely tested as he looked upon his sister for the first time in years.

"Michael," Spock said, his voice quiet against the barren wind of Talos IV.

"Spock," she replied, her eyes bright with moisture. She offered him a brief, profound nod of gratitude before turning her attention to the black chair sitting in the center of the clearing.

She walked over slowly, dropping to her knees directly in front of the wheelchair. Chris looked back at her in sheer, disbelieving shock.

The light on the chair flashed twice in rapid succession. No. This cannot be real.

Michael reached up, resting her bare hand gently over the metallic panel right above the light. "It's real, Chris. I promised you I'd see you again. I'm here to bring you home."