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Brig - [Open to All]
Jul. 29th, 2009 04:39 pmChristopher Pike remained silent in his cell. It had been some time since anyone had approached him except the silent offers of food and water. It still struck him as odd to feed a prisoner. Water, yes, because one wanted them to live long enough to get information out of but food gave them strength. He would not eat with someone watching and always out-waited the guards before getting up, strolling across the room to get the tray of food, and returning to the bunk.
He ate only because it got rid of the annoyance of hunger pangs, chewing as he thought.
He was equally curious to see what these people-not-strangers came up with next. He was equally curious to see if the draw he had buried in Spock's mind would bring him back to his cell. The beautiful Uhura as well... he enjoyed the strength the woman had. Yes, she could be his mouth to the captain. What was strange was a lack of a visit from the captain of the vessel. In his mind, he could envision the James Kirk of his own universe, and aged him some years less as all of the crew of this ship seemed to be.
It felt like a crew of babes was piloting the Enterprise. How insulting.
He was getting a slow trickle of information, though. There was no Terran Empire here, instead this 'Federation' and 'Star Fleet'. Humanitarian efforts, it seemed. To have a flagship such as this leading it, if matters stayed the same between verses, would make it formidable but if led by someone weak at heart, soft, it would not have the same devastating effect.
Pike leaned back in his cell against the wall, fingers tapping unconsciously on his thigh. He could remember calling for the ship to transport him, the thrill of conquest singing in his veins, then suddenly... a sickening jolt. A flicker of a voice saying something about ionic interference, something surrounding the ship, then the world had gone dark again. Even for a man of his years, power, and control, it had been almost frightening. A failure of power or lock from the transporter meant his death as surely and more quickly then a knife.
And he had entered this world of weaklings, a world where his crew had been drained of its tenacity and power and dealings. He wanted to find out more about it. Fear could be produced from the inside out, slow and steady, stronger then the edge of the blade and more lethal in its finale.
He could play along with this idea.
A smirk curled briefly on his lips and he relaxed, waiting to see who would speak to him next.
He ate only because it got rid of the annoyance of hunger pangs, chewing as he thought.
He was equally curious to see what these people-not-strangers came up with next. He was equally curious to see if the draw he had buried in Spock's mind would bring him back to his cell. The beautiful Uhura as well... he enjoyed the strength the woman had. Yes, she could be his mouth to the captain. What was strange was a lack of a visit from the captain of the vessel. In his mind, he could envision the James Kirk of his own universe, and aged him some years less as all of the crew of this ship seemed to be.
It felt like a crew of babes was piloting the Enterprise. How insulting.
He was getting a slow trickle of information, though. There was no Terran Empire here, instead this 'Federation' and 'Star Fleet'. Humanitarian efforts, it seemed. To have a flagship such as this leading it, if matters stayed the same between verses, would make it formidable but if led by someone weak at heart, soft, it would not have the same devastating effect.
Pike leaned back in his cell against the wall, fingers tapping unconsciously on his thigh. He could remember calling for the ship to transport him, the thrill of conquest singing in his veins, then suddenly... a sickening jolt. A flicker of a voice saying something about ionic interference, something surrounding the ship, then the world had gone dark again. Even for a man of his years, power, and control, it had been almost frightening. A failure of power or lock from the transporter meant his death as surely and more quickly then a knife.
And he had entered this world of weaklings, a world where his crew had been drained of its tenacity and power and dealings. He wanted to find out more about it. Fear could be produced from the inside out, slow and steady, stronger then the edge of the blade and more lethal in its finale.
He could play along with this idea.
A smirk curled briefly on his lips and he relaxed, waiting to see who would speak to him next.
