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(Mirrorverse) Between Today and Tomorrow
Jan. 8th, 2010 10:25 amIt was late in the night, somewhere between today and tomorrow, AM and PM. The large bed that had been theirs for so long seemed impossibly larger, too much empty space to be filled by his body. In the silence, emptiness of his room, Pike allowed himself to stay on Spock's side of the bed and rest his head on the pillow there. The smell was faint, yet it still relaxed his muscles. It would allow him to sleep for this night when they must be apart.
He closed his eyes, hand fisting into the sheets. It would be his final night here, in this room where they had shared their worlds. The very thoughts that he was having bothered him, ones that seemed a strong sign of weakness. There was no surprise in this though; Spock was indeed his greatest strength and weakness. He would have it no other way.
He thought of that woman, who had dared to confront him on the Observation Deck. He had no doubt she was with Spock now, possibly pouring unintentional poison in his ear, possibly aiding him in remaining strong while the bond was separated. Pike knew he could not dare to release the shields he had secured in place to reach out for his bond mate, because it would allow the flood to pour through and he would not be able to close them again. It would not be much longer.
There was a plan now, and he felt more secure in having that plan. To offer plans, enemy weaknesses, and other such information to Starfleet to achieve a ship, release the probes onto the ship and eradicate any of Starfleet's possible bugs and influence, upgrade the ship to have technology to match what kept his own Enterprise the best of the fleet, and from there, he and Spock would have to come to an agreement on what to do. With the probes, a very minimal crew would be needed to run even a very large ship. Spock would be capable of making sure the crew could make no mention of the probes to anyone else, after all, it was a strong part of his training.
Pike started to fall into sleep, listening to the familiar hum of his ship, when an electrical thrill ran through his body. He sat up all at once, looking around the room for signs of anyone there, before concentrating on himself instead. He could sense the probes fair vibrating against his skin, the vibration increasing. The probes did not speak, did not produce images. Their tiny electrical connections were like synapses of the mind itself. That information was passed onto him as readily as if he had thought for the information himself.
The probes, the mass, was a giant hive-mind unto itself, following his direction foremost as if he had given birth to it. As if he was the controller of the mind and allowed others merely access to it. Now, they seemed to be attempting to communicate something new. Pike closed his eyes and opened his mind to them, giving a silent urging to have them provide him with information.
RECEIVED. ACKNOWLEDGED. AWAIT.
Not necessarily words, not even feelings, but what was provided was more a sense of concept than anything else. Pike knew near instantly what, from where, and from who those concepts had come. Spock had received his message. Pike wondered how Spock had come to the idea of using the probes where the bond would provide a possible danger, and was grateful for his cunning.
There would be more to accomplish when he woke. A short nap would keep him steady on his feet, specially when dealing with this crew. He had every intention of checking on Kirk down in sickbay as well as seeing how McCoy was progressing, if at all, with the probes housed there. He had some final plans he wanted to make sure were on padds he could take with him, and that meant dangling something tasty in front of Scotty to make sure the engineer was soused before he attempted it. There was a good, old bottle of Saurian Brandy in one of the drawers of his dresser that would make an excellent bribe.
After that, it would only be a short matter of getting everything to the transporter room, setting the information to be destroyed within the ship so no one could follow, and leaving in tact. The probes, if for some reason needed, Pike realized, could pass information back to the mass-mind on the Enterprise should he need to return.
He thought of his home in the Mojave, where he and Spock had become one mind on the blood-covered floor of his living room. What would become of the hellhound pack? What of the home itself? It was programmed entirely to himself, thus even if he were to gift it to another they would not be able to even approach it. The pack would survive on its own, as it always had, just as he and Spock would.
Sleep came on its own, with a lighter hand than expected.
He closed his eyes, hand fisting into the sheets. It would be his final night here, in this room where they had shared their worlds. The very thoughts that he was having bothered him, ones that seemed a strong sign of weakness. There was no surprise in this though; Spock was indeed his greatest strength and weakness. He would have it no other way.
He thought of that woman, who had dared to confront him on the Observation Deck. He had no doubt she was with Spock now, possibly pouring unintentional poison in his ear, possibly aiding him in remaining strong while the bond was separated. Pike knew he could not dare to release the shields he had secured in place to reach out for his bond mate, because it would allow the flood to pour through and he would not be able to close them again. It would not be much longer.
There was a plan now, and he felt more secure in having that plan. To offer plans, enemy weaknesses, and other such information to Starfleet to achieve a ship, release the probes onto the ship and eradicate any of Starfleet's possible bugs and influence, upgrade the ship to have technology to match what kept his own Enterprise the best of the fleet, and from there, he and Spock would have to come to an agreement on what to do. With the probes, a very minimal crew would be needed to run even a very large ship. Spock would be capable of making sure the crew could make no mention of the probes to anyone else, after all, it was a strong part of his training.
Pike started to fall into sleep, listening to the familiar hum of his ship, when an electrical thrill ran through his body. He sat up all at once, looking around the room for signs of anyone there, before concentrating on himself instead. He could sense the probes fair vibrating against his skin, the vibration increasing. The probes did not speak, did not produce images. Their tiny electrical connections were like synapses of the mind itself. That information was passed onto him as readily as if he had thought for the information himself.
The probes, the mass, was a giant hive-mind unto itself, following his direction foremost as if he had given birth to it. As if he was the controller of the mind and allowed others merely access to it. Now, they seemed to be attempting to communicate something new. Pike closed his eyes and opened his mind to them, giving a silent urging to have them provide him with information.
RECEIVED. ACKNOWLEDGED. AWAIT.
Not necessarily words, not even feelings, but what was provided was more a sense of concept than anything else. Pike knew near instantly what, from where, and from who those concepts had come. Spock had received his message. Pike wondered how Spock had come to the idea of using the probes where the bond would provide a possible danger, and was grateful for his cunning.
There would be more to accomplish when he woke. A short nap would keep him steady on his feet, specially when dealing with this crew. He had every intention of checking on Kirk down in sickbay as well as seeing how McCoy was progressing, if at all, with the probes housed there. He had some final plans he wanted to make sure were on padds he could take with him, and that meant dangling something tasty in front of Scotty to make sure the engineer was soused before he attempted it. There was a good, old bottle of Saurian Brandy in one of the drawers of his dresser that would make an excellent bribe.
After that, it would only be a short matter of getting everything to the transporter room, setting the information to be destroyed within the ship so no one could follow, and leaving in tact. The probes, if for some reason needed, Pike realized, could pass information back to the mass-mind on the Enterprise should he need to return.
He thought of his home in the Mojave, where he and Spock had become one mind on the blood-covered floor of his living room. What would become of the hellhound pack? What of the home itself? It was programmed entirely to himself, thus even if he were to gift it to another they would not be able to even approach it. The pack would survive on its own, as it always had, just as he and Spock would.
Sleep came on its own, with a lighter hand than expected.
