Chris cannot solve this Warp 12 equation, and the door chimes again. "Come in!" he shouts irritably, smacking the damn equation off his screen. He'll get back to it after a break, after dealing with whoever's beating down his door.
"Pike!" Hannity announces himself before the door even opens, and no, Chris isn't coming out with him and Emer to -- "I had to catch you, man! Did you hear?"
"Hear what?" Chris asks, and only then sees the serious look on Hannity's face, the lines creased into his cheeks. This can't be good. "What?" Chris hears himself repeat faintly, and snaps his mouth shut.
"Turn on the Commnet," Hannity rumbles mournfully, reaching over Chris's shoulder to do it himself. Chris glances at the screen --
"LAST TRANSMISSION OF THE USS KELVIN" reads the banner below a staticy image of an impossibility, a crackling ring of lightning against the void of space and oozing from it, oily-black and malevolently gleaming, an assembly of long sharp light-specked tentacles, the prow of some massive ship from nowhere or Hell.
The sound cuts in then, an announcer's voice, all fake calm and shrill undertones. " -- destroyed by an unknown assailant at 2100 GST Earth time. Number of survivors as yet unknown. I repeat, the Federation starship --"
"No," Chris says, drowning out the Kelvin's name, staring at the alien monstrosity on the screen. George and Winona's ship. Robau's command, George had joked he'd pull some strings to get Chris posted to it and Chris shot back he'd earn his place on it and now it's so much dust, orbiting a star somewhere on the edge of Klingon space.
George too, most likely. Winona too, and their unborn baby.
Hannity's calling him, "Pike, hey Pike," squeezing his shoulder with a heavy hand. "Pike, man, I had to make sure you heard, I know you have friends serving aboard."
Chris nods, a flex of neck muscles. He stands up, away from the tinny news of disaster pouring off the screen. "Hannity." He should thank Hannity for making sure he knew. He can't see anything but static and lightning.
"What, man? What is it?"
"Hannity," Chris says, numbly lifting his head to meet Hannity's worried eyes. "Come on. Let's go get drunk."
no subject
"Pike!" Hannity announces himself before the door even opens, and no, Chris isn't coming out with him and Emer to -- "I had to catch you, man! Did you hear?"
"Hear what?" Chris asks, and only then sees the serious look on Hannity's face, the lines creased into his cheeks. This can't be good. "What?" Chris hears himself repeat faintly, and snaps his mouth shut.
"Turn on the Commnet," Hannity rumbles mournfully, reaching over Chris's shoulder to do it himself. Chris glances at the screen --
"LAST TRANSMISSION OF THE USS KELVIN" reads the banner below a staticy image of an impossibility, a crackling ring of lightning against the void of space and oozing from it, oily-black and malevolently gleaming, an assembly of long sharp light-specked tentacles, the prow of some massive ship from nowhere or Hell.
The sound cuts in then, an announcer's voice, all fake calm and shrill undertones. " -- destroyed by an unknown assailant at 2100 GST Earth time. Number of survivors as yet unknown. I repeat, the Federation starship --"
"No," Chris says, drowning out the Kelvin's name, staring at the alien monstrosity on the screen. George and Winona's ship. Robau's command, George had joked he'd pull some strings to get Chris posted to it and Chris shot back he'd earn his place on it and now it's so much dust, orbiting a star somewhere on the edge of Klingon space.
George too, most likely. Winona too, and their unborn baby.
Hannity's calling him, "Pike, hey Pike," squeezing his shoulder with a heavy hand. "Pike, man, I had to make sure you heard, I know you have friends serving aboard."
Chris nods, a flex of neck muscles. He stands up, away from the tinny news of disaster pouring off the screen. "Hannity." He should thank Hannity for making sure he knew. He can't see anything but static and lightning.
"What, man? What is it?"
"Hannity," Chris says, numbly lifting his head to meet Hannity's worried eyes. "Come on. Let's go get drunk."