A/N: Most of this chapter is what you might call filler- but I felt like I hadn't given a certain man his due, nor built up his ties with another certain leading lady. So, this covers it in the depth I have been after for a while. Besides, I wanted to do something a little special for Radioactive finally hitting double-figures with these chapters, as well as to celebrate over 7,000 views from you amazing people (and ninety-nine alerts! Ninety nine!). I like the way the chapter turned out, anyway, though it is amongst the shortest. I hope you enjoy, as ever.

X
Fragments

May 16, 2258 – the Narada

The innards of the Narada were dark, dank and vast, hollow chambers of black metal that gleamed with sickly green and bile-yellow from its lighting, wiring and thick cables stained iron-oxide red, wild and bizarre architecture that seemed to sneer at its captive, as though the Narada were a sentient reptilian being, filled with as much venom and murderous intent as her captain.

Pike was strapped down to the surface of an angled table, surrounded by miscellaneous equipment that had been dragged into place around him and a pool of ankle-deep black water. The side of Pike that was still maintaining his sense of humour wondered what the crew might do were he to ask if having such a high-risk health hazard was really worth it for the general ambiance of misery. Overall, conditions were no worse than Pike had expected, and better than he would like- because of what it foretold.

His suspicions were confirmed as Nero circled him, his boots sloshing through sludge, and addressed him almost cordially.

"You are the only the second human I have ever met, face to face. You must have so many questions for me." He paused, coming into Pike's line of sight on his right side. "I have only one for you."

Nero leaned closer, voice low and gravelly as though rusted with disuse.

"I need the subspace frequencies of Starfleet's border detection grids. Specifically those surrounding Earth."

Pike gazed back at Nero, breathing slow and deep, burning with a quiet rage.

Bravery was easier than people thought when it had anger fuelling it.

"Christopher Pike- Captain, U.S.S. Enterprise, registry NCC-1701," he recited tonelessly.

"Christopher," Nero intoned under a faux-cordial veneer. "Answer my question."

Pike's eyes flashed like lightning on stormy waters. "No. You answer for the genocide that you just committed against a peaceful planet-"

"I prevented genocide!" Nero snarled. Pike glared back, unwavering. The Romulan captain took a moment, leaning back and composing himself, and seemed to seethe for a moment. "In my time, where I come from," he began again, circling the table, "this ship is a simple mining vessel. I chose a life of honest labour to provide for myself," Nero halted on the other side of Pike, snapping on a blindingly bright strobe light angled above them, and a hologram; one of a radiant Romulan woman with curling copper hair, smiling beatifically as she wavered in a streak of light, her stomach swollen in the unmistakable late stages of pregnancy, "and the wife who was expecting my child. I was off-planet, doing my job, while your Federation did nothing- and allowed my people to burn as our planet broke in half-! And Spock, who swore to help us-!"

Pike blinked in confusion, and found his voice, grasping onto the unexpected anchor and trying to placate the Romulan stood before him.

"No, no- then you're confused, you've been misinformed, Romulus hasn't been destroyed, it's out there right now," he tried to reason with him, hoping that this had all been some horrible, tragic error. "You've been blaming the Federation for something that hasn't happened-"

"It has happened!" Nero raged, features contorting with fury and deep visceral pain. "I watched it happen! I saw it happen!" He pulled away, eyes agonised, and the hologram shut off with a thud of electricity. "And when I lost her… I promised myself retribution. For twenty-five years, my crew and I mourned our loss. We burned our grief into our skin with ink and hot nails. To show that the agony would never fade. Rura Penthe was nothing in comparison. I swore not to speak another word until the day that revenge was within my grasp. I forgot the sound of my own voice, what it was to live a normal life- but I did not forget the pain." His expression darkened. "Pain that every surviving Vulcan now knows."

Pike could see how far Nero's mind was gone- nothing more than a hollow shell, twisted and warped by loss and wrath and destruction. Even so, he tried again.

"If what you say is true," Pike said slowly, "you have a second chance to save Romulus-"

"My purpose, Christopher," Nero cut him off, eyes glinting with a grim amusement, "is not simply to avoid the destruction of the home I love… but to create a Romulus that exists free of the Federation. You see, only then will she be truly safe."

He could not tell whether Nero was referring to the woman he loved, or the planet itself. Either way, it hardly mattered. Pike's storm-blue eyes were suddenly tranquil and resigned.

"Then we have nothing left to discuss," he said quietly, turning his head away.

Nero hissed out a sigh, as though disappointed, and moved away towards a countertop bearing a glass container- extracting a chirruping insect that vaguely resembled a large beetle, with a wriggling antennae and outer shell of glistening slime-brown. It squirmed in protest as Nero held it up between the teeth of a set of long silver tongs, examining it thoughtfully.

"It is not the fault of the human race that the Federation chose Earth as its centre," he said, almost apologetic. "You are a nobler race than my fallen cousins- able to feel, to suffer, to be aware of your surroundings on a level that the forever logical Vulcans cannot. You feel the emotion that Vulcans perceive as vulgar, and unproductive, and wear it proudly. In this sense, you are closer kin than they could ever be. I promise that I will take no pleasure in your extinction."

How reassuring, Pike thought with vitriol.

"But you will give me the frequencies to disable earth's defences." Nero turned back to Pike, holding the strange insect aloft. "Centurian slugs. They latch onto your brainstem," he said, suspending the insect- now chittering with an ominous click of its pincers- above Pike's mouth, "and release a potent neurotoxin that will force you to answer. They also happen to despise the dark. I can assure you that its burrowing through the gastric system is excruciatingly painful."

He paused, giving Pike one last chance.

"Frequencies, please."

Perhaps Pike should have thought of the lives lost on Vulcan- of the enterprising young cadets killed on their first mission before they even had the joy of graduation- of the planet full of innocents now in peril for a vendetta concocted by a madman. Instead, Pike though selfishly. He thought of his people, his crew, placed in danger for Nero's revenge and destruction; he thought of Spock, an officer who served Starfleet's ideals with unwavering honesty- of Kirk, his stubborn, foolish but brilliant protégé, brimming with potential, who was one of Pike's proudest achievements, for himself and Jim and Starfleet- of Valravn, his niece. Valravn- what if she had been assigned to another ship? What if Kirk hadn't been aboard the Enterprise, hadn't heard the anomaly's description and made the crucial connection? And worse: what if Valravn had already, at that very moment, been killed in the mission to destroy the drill that Nero had deployed to bore through Vulcan's heart?

"Christopher Pike- Captain, U.S.S. Enterprise, registry NCC-1701," Pike said coldly.

Nero gave an almost sad smile. "As you wish."

Pike's jaw was forced, and the slug dropped into his throat.

He choked.

(The girl could be no more than nine years old.

Hair the glossy colour of ink spilled down her back in a stark, fairytale contrast to the vivid crimson of her dress and the white of her flesh, like a perfect little doll bought to life. She perched at the seat of the console, her small hands working with absurd dexterity across the screens, eyes raised to watch the holographic image above her head. The blueprints rotated smoothly by precise degrees with a circling of her fingertips, entire constructs being removed from the three-dimensional shell of light, being reformed, replaced, or else scrapped entirely. The specification details whirred constantly, statistics increasing and decreasing with the improvements being made at the hands of a child.

From the large glass panel of the view screen facing into the chamber, a handful of engineers and programmers as their design grew more streamlined, more efficient by the very second.

A woman stood at the forefront and at one side of the cluster of scientists- blonde hair pinned up with a single silver stick, wearing an immaculate white trench coat and a visitor's pass over a black pencil skirt and crisp blouse; she was the only one of the small audience who looked neither pleased nor astounded nor mildly irritated by the display of raw genius, and had no professional reason to be present.

One engineer glanced over, recording a few note on their PADD. "Your daughter is very talented," they told her warmly.

Karin gave only a whisper of a smile.

"Yes she is."

The newly-minted Captain Christopher Pike, standing next to his sister-in-law, knew the words she left unspoken: that's what I'm afraid of.)

"The frequencies, Christopher."

"N- no-"

(Christopher Pike sat in the booth of the coffee shop, hands wrapped around the heated porcelain of the cup as he stared out at the pavements of a glittering metropolis so similar and yet so different to San Francisco. London was a city of glossy onyx and black steel and grand ancient stone where San Francisco was bright glass and silver titanium and poured concrete; the capital in whose beating heart he sat was seething with an atmosphere of quiet class and swift lifeblood, where its Californian twin was exploding with colour and music and constant life.

The opening of the door was marked by a blast of chilled air. A young girl walked in- nearly twelve years old and as aloof as her home city, dressed entirely in black, the collar of her jacket high, her flat-heeled boots tapping, long black hair drawn back into an intricate braid. She saw him and made her way over, slipping into the seat opposite him without a word.

Chris rose slightly in his seat and leaned over the table, pressing a brief kiss to his niece's forehead. The sweet, artificial scent of strawberry that met him reminded him of how she looked too young for her ice-coloured eyes, and wished that the powers that be had given her a warmer shade.

"You were gone for a while," he said gently as he settled back into his side of the booth, nudging a cooling cup of hot chocolate towards her.

She took the cup unseeingly and took an obedient sip, setting it back down in its saucer with its handle perfectly parallel to the table's edge. Chris' heart contracted. "I saw them hovering," she replied quietly, smoothing a speck of dust from her black nylon tights, skin glittering through the fine weave in pinpricks like ivory. "They thought they were being subtle. I had to wait for them to get bored and leave."

"Ah. I see." Chris hesitated. "How do you feel?"

The girl simply gave him a look. Chris had the decency to look embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. That was kind of a dumb question, huh?"

She made no reply at first, picking up her cup again and taking a deeper swallow.

Her cup returned to its saucer with a clink. "Am I going to California with you?"

Chris had expected the question, and had spent most of his time waiting for her constructing the best response he could- one that would offer her choices, and pressure her into none of them.

"Well- I'd like you to. Your mother asked me to look after you, and we both know that it would be difficult for me to leave San Francisco. But it's up to you. If you want to stay here, I'll arrange it. You want to go to a boarding school on some Earth colony, I'll do that too. You want to come with me when I leave on the Yorktown- I'll get hell for it and have to call in a few favours to get the paperwork pushed through in time, but I'll see it done."

She stared down into the deflating whipped foam topping her drink, and dipped the tip of her index finger into it absently.

"What's it like?"

"What, San Francisco?" Chris paused. "Well. It's a big central city, like London. Skyscrapers, retail stores, coffee shops- but it's busier, because of the spaceport. And since the Federation's headquarters are based there, there are always diplomats and ambassadors coming through, so you might say it's a little more diverse. It sits right on the Pacific Coast, so this thick fog rolls in off the sea overnight, and the mornings are cold- but by about ten, it's all burned away. It's warm, especially in the summer. Drive a few miles out, there are some good surfing beaches. And you can see the stars."

Her head lifted slightly, attention sparked, and Chris pressed the point keenly.

"Starfleet Academy set up these shields around the grounds that filter out the ambient city lights. It cost them a small fortune."

"I can imagine," she said softly. "I think I want to go there."

Chris smiled gently. "Okay, then, we'll-"

"Today."

Chris blinked. "Today?"

She looked up at him from under her lashes. "I already said goodbye to mother. That's what took me so long." Her voice became slightly pleading. "Say that we'll go today, Uncle Chris."

He wavered.

"Okay. If that's what you want.")

"I want those frequencies, Christopher."

"I'm not- telling you- a-any- th-!"

(The scent of strawberry had become clean sharp peppermint, and peppermint had become French perfume with jasmine and sandalwood.

Only fourteen, and she already had simple yet sophisticated tastes that outstripped anyone he had ever met.

She had never grown back into wearing colour- true colour; her favourite shades of blood-orange and blushed rose and cherry and that carmine red she used to wear in the form of satin ribbons whenever she could, with the soft autumn golds and cold blue and deep sapphire and turquoise and pale green that supplemented it- after her mother's death. All her adolescent wardrobe contained was garments in charcoal, jet, ebony, with occasional flashes of darkest navy the colour of midnight skies. Together with the look in her eyes, it aged her by at least three years.

Chris supposed that this was what she wanted.

But she still behaved like a brat sometimes.

Most guardians of a teenager had to deal with the rebelliousstage at some point. While most were confronted by unpredictable moodiness, the locking of doors, arguments that shook the walls and a constant agonising worry, Chris was instead faced with the same aforementioned moodiness with, instead, cold calm veneers and insane career aspirations. He was already furious that Starfleet continued to pull her out of school to use her mind as a tool for classified projects, taking advantage of the occasions that he was off-planet and didn't know until after the fact. He wasn't naïve when it came to Starfleet and the Federation using what it could to protect itself, but he drew the line at making a little girl who had been granted little enough time to be a child to begin with give up what was left of it to make them weapons.

What was worse was that she was letting it happen.

"I don't understand why you're so upset," she said in an infuriatingly even tone that Chris categorically refused to believe he might have accidentally taught her. The apartment in which they were sat was large and monochrome and glossy, the cold sleek fixtures suiting them both well, peppered with personal touches- photographs on glass and chrome surfaces, jackets and coats and scarves hung and draped on the pegs next to the door, books and the occasional stray shoe littered around the open-plan living space. His favourite feature, and hers, was the panoramic window.

He leaned across the table and scooped another spoonful of butter-smothered spears of asparagus onto her plate, and received an unimpressed look in return. Chris cursed that her stubbornness outweighed absolutely anything else. When she had been a child- she was still a child, Chris reminded himself angrily- it had taken little more than a stack of the stuff, alongside a soft-boiled free range chicken's egg, thick with golden yolk, to bribe her into anything and everything. If only she was still so easily persuaded by food.

"I am upset because you went behind my back," Chris said sharply.

"I'm telling you now, aren't I? Besides, we both know that if I had tried to ask, you wouldn't have even considered it before saying no," she replied, taking a pair of tongs and piling curls of smoked salmon onto her plate. Chris knew that the amount of protein she consumed was slightly abnormal for a girl her age and stature, but it was one of many things that had to be set aside to the back of his mind for the sake of his sanity. "It is better to beg forgiveness than ask permission."

"What, because that way I can't stop you?"

She shrugged without reply, raising her glass to her mouth indifferently.

"You deliberately hid this from me," he reiterated in way that would have set his new recruits squirming in their seats. His niece, on the other hand, hitched an eyebrow much in the same manner that his Vulcan commander did when there seemed no better reaction- only she did it in such a way that it communicated a wealth of apathy, amusement and slight contempt. "You disobeyed me, after I specifically told you no."

She rolled her eyes. "I downloaded a prospectus. You act like I enrolled into the academy by forging your signature on the consent forms- or I told you that I want to become a contract murderer. By the stars, Chris, you are a captain of Starfleet!"

"And I believe in its cause, but you are fourteen, Raven- you're young and you're throwing away your education on something you might not even want in a few years! When you're this age, it's a long time between now and university-"

"This is my future," she said coldly, gathering up a slice of salmon onto her fork. "I didn't choose it, but it is. Face it, what else can I possibly do with my life?"

Chris softened. "You could do anything. Be anyone. As extraordinary or normal as you like."

She swallowed a mouthful of salmon, processing this.

"Normal," she echoed.

She placed her fork down with a clink, hands placed primly in her lap.

"Do you want to know what I did in school today?"

It was a non-sequitur, a verbal trap. Chris set down his own silverware nonetheless, lacing his fingers together and bracing himself.

"What did you do in school today?"

"I got eight detentions."

"Eight?!" Chris repeated in disbelief.

"Eight," she confirmed, dangerously serene. "I was given the first from my maths teacher because I didn't finish the homework because it was too easy and I didn't see the point. My literature teacher gave me my second, third and fourth- one because I didn't hand in the scene summaries on Romeo and Juliet, another because said that I didn't need to do the summary sheet because I know the play and proved it to the entire class by reciting Mercutio's Queen Mab speech from memory, and the last because I lost my temper- sorry- and insulted my teacher when she told me I was being insolent. The one I got for skipping class to reprogram the school's heating system so that it worked properly was my seventh, I got one from my science teachers when I corrected them on electronic configurations in transition metals, and I- this isn't unusual, Chris, I-"

She cut herself off and rose from her seat without waiting for his reply, breathing deeply.

"I am sick of being the whale trying to live in a fish-tank," she said, frustrated and coiled with tension like a spring-trap. "I feel like I'm suffocating because I'm trying to be normal but I won't ever be, whether you or I like it or not. I just- want to feel small for once in my life- I want to be able to look up to people, to learn something for once. I- I want to look out into space and feel it all around me and realise how insignificant I am, that I'm only human, just like anybody else. I want to be one fish, one tiny fish, in an endless sea. I want to be part of something bigger- something more important than me."

She turned and walked away, speaking more to herself than him, in a tone that broke Chris' resolve in two.

"Is… that so much to ask…?")

"- ur- urgh-"

"You will comply, Christopher."

It was minutes in hours, hours in minutes, fragments of a life rendering time meaningless, as fast or as slow as it pleased and whichever was worst for him-

(She was seventeen, and a young woman.

Christopher Pike watched her slip out of the doors of the elevator and spill into the lobby, descending the short flight of steps, carrying a heavy duffel bag over one shoulder and a sizable suitcase in the opposite hand. Her hair was ebony silk, whisked back from her face, a few short strands of her fringe pulling loose, smudging the marble-carved definition of her features. Aviator sunglasses propped atop her head like a gleaming headband, she was dressed in small black canvas shorts that exposed her long legs, a tank top of the same shade, wedge sandals with a heel of cork and silver and turquoise beading on the soft russet leather straps, and an infectious smile. The black strings of a halter-necked, gold-studded two-piece swimsuit were underneath her clothes- they were going to the beach, she had told him, before anything else on the agenda.

Though almost non-existent, it was, aside from her crimson cadet uniform, the most colour that Chris had seen her wear in years.

"That's the last of them," she carefully set her bags down on the polished tiles, the others already loaded into the van.

"Sure you've got everything?"

"Of course I'm sure," she retorted, feigning mild offence, though her smile quickly returned to ruin the effect. She was happy- relaxed, and happy. A little less cold, a little less- adult.

Chris chuckled. "If you say so. Just at least tell me that you and Kirk have some kind of itinerary for this trip."

"If by that you're asking if I forced us to have one for the sake of some semblance of organisation," she replied, nearly sparkling, "yes, I do. The route was planned by James, though, so don't blame me if there's a lot of jumping around- he insisted we see everything we both wanted. We'll be following the Golden Coast for a few days, then a day or two in the Caribbean before we go into Venezuela to see that waterfall- I have the feeling that James will probably coerce me into visiting Rio and Buenos Aires while we're still on South America. Then East Asia- maybe Singapore, Japan, Hong Kong, wherever the mood takes us- maybe Russia- definitely Italy and France to see the cathedrals. Then England- I want to show him London- Iceland to see the aurora borealis, and Canada if we have time."

"Sounds like fun," Chris said wryly, knowing that they would return exhausted but without regrets. He was glad, especially for her- being young gave you licence to be a little irresponsible in the name of cheap thrills.

"Can I ask you something?" She directed at him suddenly, staring at her duffel bag where it rested at her feet. Chris examined her in one sweeping look; strong, flippantly cool, bearing more effortless elegance than any of her peers at the academy. "Why did you say yes to this?"

Chris hesitated, filling the silence with a thoughtful sigh. Somehow- he wasn't entirely sure how it had happened, in retrospect, but he had to respect his protégé for executing it so smoothly- Jim Kirk had persuaded her the previous February that a planet-wide road trip would be preferable to any summer internship. He had sourced an ancient rusting VW camper van the colour of the sky, retrofitted it with a hydrogen engine and fresh panelling, and plotted their course across the continents- all after obtaining Pike's permission to take her with him.

Truthfully, he wondered what had possessed him to agree. Perhaps it was Kirk's sheer tenacity- or the fact that Chris had seen Valravn in that first month, trying to look indifferent but flattered and intrigued by the attention as she walked from one lecture to the next with the notorious Jim Kirk at her heels, like a puppy trying to get her attention. Or the candid, giddy joy he had seen in his protégé after Kirk had acquired her hard-earned friendship. Or the righteous rage evidenced in the form of an Andorian cadet's injuries, a sight that sent a shot of vicious satisfaction through Chris even as he denounced it as unacceptable behaviour. Maybe it was to smooth over her messy breakup with said cadet, which must have affected her- making the rare and, for her, difficult decision to trust only to have it rebound on her like shrapnel- as well as she hid it. Maybe it was because she was perfectly capable of looking after herself.

But maybe- just, maybe, it was guilt.

Guilt that he had failed Karin- that he hadn't given her the stable childhood she was entitled to, but rather had given in to what Valravn had wanted, and let her become the weapon that Starfleet wouldn't say that it sought of her.

"Because you wanted to go.")

"-appears to be working-"

"- won't be able to reject the toxin for long-"

"- involuntary-"

"- some way we can-"

"- patience-"

("You're prepared to die, aren't you?"

He was scanning the shuttle's complex of controls, reacquainting himself with piloting controls, listening to the slam and clack and rustle of his subordinate changing into the sole EV suit stashed aboard the vessel behind him; the other members of the away team, including Engineer Olsen, would be catching up to them once they had changed into their own suits.

The space left to them was unfamiliar territory, balanced on a knife edge.

"Careful, Raven," Pike said, hearing a chain of successive snaps echoing at his back. "No one has ever been able to accuse you of being a hypocrite before. Don't go giving them an opportunity."

Her silence implied an unseen shrug. "Now you know how it feels."

Pike's jaw tightened. "Raven."

"Sorry." She replied, more than slightly insincere. "But you are the one that bought it up."

He took a cleansing breath, and resolutely changed the subject. "What do you think of the plan? In your professional opinion."

Even encased in the resilient weight of the EV suit, her steps were light and nigh unobtrusive as she approached the cockpit. Pike swivelled his chair to face her, and found a warrior armoured in black in place of his niece.

"It's a risk. Bold, decisive, a little insane on its surface but honestly brilliant once you see underneath." A shadow of a smile chased her mouth as she leaned against the metal frame of the door. "Exactly how I like them best."

"Much like your taste in men, it seems," Pike muttered on a momentary impulse.

She hardened.

"Really?" She asked coldly. "Are we really going to get into this now?"

"You and I both know that this may just be my last chance to get into this," Pike replied forebodingly.

She held her tongue, and Pike finally asked the question that had been festering at the back of his mind for entirely too long.

"What exactly are your feelings towards Jim Kirk?"

The silence that followed roiled, tension coiling like wisps of smoke from the surface of her suit; when ice burned, in Pike's experience, everything swiftly went to hell.

"That's none of your business," Valravn said, deceptively relaxed.

"As your commanding officer, I think you'll find it damn well is," Pike said, perhaps more tersely than he had intended due to the dread swirling in his chest. "What is Jim Kirk to you?"

"I trust him and work exceptionally well with him, sir." Valravn recited tonelessly. "However, our personal relationship will not impede our performance under your command."

Pike exhaled, frustrated. "That wasn't what I asked and you know it."

"That's because I'm not obliged to tell you, Captain, beyond how it relates to my performance under your command."

"Then as someone who cares about you."

"Alright," Valravn said lightly. "As your niece: it is none… of your business," she ground out.

Pike pinched his brow, eyes closing briefly. When he spoke again, it was with abject honesty.

"Don't think I'm doing this for the wrong reasons, Raven. I like Jim. I think he has great potential within Starfleet- and beyond, as a good person and a good man, too. But I see the way you look at him. The way you defended him on the bridge."

"He was right!" She pointed out incredulously, loosening in exasperation.

"You had no way of knowing that for certain. You took a leap of faith, and that isn't you," Pike persisted solidly. He was, truthfully, worried- not that Kirk would hurt her intentionally; if he ever told Valravn that he loved her, he would mean it- but for how long? Valravn loved quietly, but with her whole heart and for eternity. "I know that he won't mean to- he's a good kid- but he'll only hurt you. That's not what I want for you."

"This isn't what you wanted for me either, remember?" She said sharply.

Pike felt a bolt of realisation reverberate through him at her sudden outburst. In all their years, of all the arguments, never had she erupted so passionately.

"You love him."

The expression welled up in her eyes like blood, as though he had physically cut her open.

She turned away, as smooth as glass.

"They are on their way.")

Somewhere, where his body was and his mind was not, a stream of codes- keys to unlocking the gates to the enemy- emerged from his throat.