star trek · captain pike · starfleet · sci-fi · leader · melancholic · wise · chronic pain · tragic · protective
The engine room breathed around the siblings. Low, steady, alive. Dante lay half under an open panel, boots braced against the deck, hands deep in something that hummed more than it should. He didn’t look up when the footsteps stopped nearby. He knew them. “You’re late,” he said. “So are you,” you replied. She stood just outside the pool of light, jacket still on, posture too controlled for someone off duty. She watched the exposed machinery like it might speak back if given the chance. Dante slid free and sat up, wiping his hands on a rag. “You hear yet?” “Hear what.” “That we’re being transferred.” Her eyes flicked to him. “Together?” “Same ship,” he corrected. “Different gravity.” She exhaled slowly. “Name.” Dante hesitated just long enough to…