Chapter Text
Chapter 1 - Visions and Realities
There was something familiar about a good whorehouse, Christopher Pike, Captain of the ISS Enterprise thought. Whores never asked questions. They took your money and did business with you. And maybe they were the only honest people left in this corrupted empire where everyone was stabbing each other in the back on a constant basis.
Oh, it had its advantages if one was unscrupulous enough. Pike himself had used his cunning and his strength more than once for his personal advancement and for the glory of the empire.
But he never fucked his subordinates.
There were some Captains who swore by the Captain's woman. A constant warm body to warm your bed at night and to let you fuck out your urges. But Captain's women were ambitious. They might spread their legs now, play coy and obedient just to betray you the first time you turned around.
Christopher Pike didn't come so far just to be killed by some slut who saw her opportunity. The fucks couldn't be so good that it was worthwhile to take a ticking time-bomb into your quarters.
No, Pike was more sensible than that. And that was probably why he was still alive - a rare occurrence for an Imperial captain over fifty. But Pike planned to keep on living a while.
Until his fate caught up with him.
But that was for another day.
This day was a good one. Their last raid had been successful - the Enterprise's cargo holds were full with riches and delicious, exotic food. Those pathetic Klingons didn't even put up much of a fight.
And now he wanted to celebrate, with alcohol and a good fucking - two tried and tested methods to make him forget his fiery end.
Starbase 66 fortunately catered to his whims. There was not only one but twenty brothels to choose from, meaning he never had to return to the ones he had already visited. Imperial officers needed to blow off steam and he wasn't the only one.
Absentmindedly he patted the knife on his belt with his right hand and the sack with gold-pressed latinum with his other.
Those despicable Ferengi had their claws too deep in the whoring business to accept any other currency but Pike had to admit that these little gremlins had a knack for business. They were one of the few species the Empire at least tolerated because of their utter and complete lack of any morals. They were good with finances and procuring needed goods no questions asked.
And so Pike came prepared to hand the greedy owner the price he demanded. Because tonight he felt like splurging.
The red-light district was as pathetic as Pike remembered, but the Empire had everything under tight control to stop the biggest excesses. And so it was all the same - neon lights, advertisement and a display of flesh, human and non-human, male, female and all other kinds of gender. Even animals if one was so inclined.
Pike was more traditional. He wanted a human woman, no extras, no bells and whistles. A wet pussy, a nice set of tits and no questions asked.
Usually he found exactly that in the establishments he visited.
The brothel he had chosen this time was a bit further down the alley and when he stood before it it was like all the others. Colorful and dirty at the same time. "The Lucky Star" stood there in bright blinking letters, indicating that this was also a gambling joint.
Gambling joints were usually cleaner, but Pike had no particular interest to test his luck - he did so out there very day, coming back alive.
A marquee in one of the shop windows announced the deals of the day, some poor woman who had drawn the ire of a customer or the owner and who was now flogged at half price or lower as a lesson. "Illyrian slut" stood there and "Thirsty Vulcan" and "Dumb big-titted bimbo" and Pike shook his head. None of those appealed to him.
He inhaled and stepped into the foyer.
The music was as cheap as one expected from a place such as this - some sultry wind instrument in the background. Behind the counter waited one of these ugly gremlins and on the couches sat a few people, Imperial officers, other humans out of uniform and the whores dressed in the most garish and colorful clothes, sipping drinks with their customers.
But Pike's gaze was drawn to the figure at the other end of the room.
The woman was tied up from the ceiling, hands and feet fixated so she stood spread-eagle on a kind of stage. Behind her was a man who fucked into her with abandon and with some fascination Pike watched that man's member slide in and out of her. She didn't make a noise, her head was slumped on her chest and the rest of her body would surely have slumped, too if she hadn't been bound so tightly.
Her long dark hair pooled over her belly and it was hard to tell whether she was still conscious. If she wasn't the man behind her wasn't particularly fazed by this.
At least she had a nice body. Long muscular legs, a curvy waist, most likely nice round tits the way Pike liked.
Below her was a sign that informed interested parties that she was there for free use. From the looks of it she could be either the advertised "Illyrian slut" or the "big-titted bimbo". The sign didn't specify.
But something else about the woman drew Pike's attention.
Long dark hair.
He froze.
Could it be? After all these years?
Here of all places?
Pike suddenly felt a dryness in his throat and the familiar feeling of constriction. He clasped the hilt of his knife and squeezed it tightly until his hand hurt until the episode was over. In the meantime the man had finished fucking the whore and a white liquid was dripping down her thighs mixed a with red one.
She had been fucked bloody.
Pike wondered what her crime was that she was being punished like that. Usually no proprietor of a respectable brothel would lose money by giving out whores for free.
Before anyone else could take the stage Pike hurried on it, taking large steps. And then he circled the woman. She was still breathing. At least they hadn't killed her.
But if the abuse was continued she would eventually die. Pike had seen it often enough, mostly with Imperial officers that had fallen out of grace, Captain's women mostly who had played the game and lost. Another reason why he had never taken one.
He didn't care much for this whore either. What was she to him? Except if she was the one he had been searching for.
That strange woman whose face had been burned into his brain.
The strange woman nobody knew.
He had been looking for so long that he had started to wonder whether she only was an illusion, a trick of his mind conjured up by his freaked out brain.
At night he would lie awake and see her features before his inner eye.
In his dreams she was beautiful and exotic, somehow otherworldly. Long dark hair. Blue eyes. Strong nose and chin. Round face. Full lips.
He had learned to draw just to put this face to paper. But still its owner had eluded him for so many years.
Slowly Pike circled the whore. He knew that he was watched. Everyone held their breath about what an Imperial Captain would do to her.
He grabbed her hair and pulled her head up to look at her face.
It was bloodied and bruised. But it was her. The woman from his vision.
Barely alive, but he would recognize her everywhere.
He jerked back and let go so her head lolled back on her chest. On impulse he drew his knife and cut the ropes that tied her to the ceiling. When she collapsed he caught her.
"Hey!" the Ferengi pimp complained. He had left his place behind the counter and hobbled over to where Pike was cutting the last rope. "Don't touch the merchandise."
"Everyone else was touching the merchandise," Pike growled. "I'm simply cutting her loose."
"But you have no right!" the little goblin shrieked.
"Says who?" Pike hissed dangerously, sheathing his knife again.
The Ferengi backed down a bit but only a bit. Money was serious business to his people and they could get downright nasty if they saw their profits endangered.
"I'm saying that. She's mine. I bought her fair and square!" The Ferengi had guts, Pike had to concede that. And it grudgingly commanded his admiration that this brothel's owner wasn't so easily intimidated. "And just because you're with the Empire doesn't give you the right to waltz in here and flaunt my rules."
For a moment Pike was tempted to claim the woman was his wife, just to fuck with the little sucker. But he was in a generous mood after finally having found her.
"I will pay for her," he conceded. "Name your price."
"She's not for sale!" the Ferengi insisted. That stubborn behavior made Pike slowly lose his patience. But he might need that little cretin for later. So he played nice a little while longer.
"Alright. I'll book her for a night. How much?"
"That's not…" the Ferengi started but then wilted under Pike's death glare. "Five bars of gold pressed Latinum," he mumbled.
That was surprisingly cheap. Pike paid for the woman with his brought money and carried her to one of the empty rooms that the brothel provided for its customers' privacy. He didn't dare bring the woman back to his ship before he didn't have more information about her.
For now the brothel room was enough. It had a bed and a fresher and a nightstand. Sufficient.
Pike put the woman on the bed. She groaned at the contact.
"What's your name?" he addressed her, knowing full well that he wouldn't get an answer.
Not only was she barely conscious. She was constricted by an Inhibitor collar which most likely not only limited her strength, but also took her voice away. And now that he looked at her more closely it would make sense to inhibit her. On her upper arm was a tattooed number, a One in an intricate pattern.
Pike had heard of these kinds of tattoos before - they were Illyrian caste indicators. The Illyrians were a curious bunch, a slave race who embraced their servitude. They hadn't put up much of a resistance when the Empire had inevitably conquered them.
Pike had never met one of them in person, but they were said to be fiercely loyal. And that they loved numbers.
That did nothing to answer the burning questions he had, on the contrary. It made everything even more confusing.
But if he ever wanted answers he had to act. Those men out there had punished the woman so much that she probably needed medical intervention. She was barely coherent and bloody.
Of course Pike hadn't packed a medkit. He had come here to fuck. Not to tend to some unconscious whore.
But this one could turn out to be important.
All he knew about her was that she was somehow important for his future. And that she was a fucktoy. How these things were connected he couldn't say yet.
Just that he needed answers. That he wouldn't easily get. Not with the inhibitor in place.
He went to the fresher and wet a cloth. Then he returned and started washing the blood and sperm from the woman's genital area. Whoever had fucked her had made good use of both her holes and both were abused and bloody.
Pike couldn't check for internal injuries here, but he cleaned her as best as he could, feeling strangely disgusted at the men who had done this.
He had no quarrels fucking a whore, he might even have taken what was rightfully his once of twice. But he had never taken advantage of an unconscious woman. Where was the fun when you didn't see them react with you?
He returned to the fresher to clean his cloth from her bodily fluids. Then he cleaned the rest of her body, the dried blood on her face and other liquids. He couldn't help but admire her female form while he did that, but at the same time his desire to fuck had evaporated like mist under the sun.
In its stead was now curiosity and disgust that both stopped him from touching her inappropriately. Why had the vision showed him a lowly worthless slave?
Pike touched her forehead with the back of his hand but didn't find it hot or feverish. Although that could mean a lot of things - Illyrians had different metabolisms.
Still, he could only fall back on his anatomical knowledge of humans. He had never learned anything else. And if his attempts didn't help her, they at least shouldn't make it worse.
When Pike had sufficiently cleaned the woman he wrapped her in the bed's blanket and rubbed her a bit.
She groaned at that and so he let her be, sitting at her bed, passing the time, waiting for something, anything. He couldn't even say whether she was a medical emergency. But if she were, bringing her to M'Benga in that state only asked for trouble and uncomfortable questions. She had to pull through on her own.
Eventually her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him in confusion, obviously needing a moment to gather her bearings.
"I will not hurt you," Pike promised her in greeting.
She wrapped herself in the blanket and stared at him.
"You're very resilient." A human woman most likely wouldn't have been in as stable a condition as this one was in. But here she was, conscious.
Pike looked into these blue eyes that must have seen a lot. In his vision that woman's gaze hadn't been as dulled down as it was in this moment.
She tried to speak but the collar stopped her and all that came out were grunts.
"Yeah, I know," Pike told her.
She pointed at the collar and grunted again but he just scoffed. "You want me to remove that?"
She nodded.
But he just shook his head. "I don't trust you."
And it was true. He needed more information. About Illyrians. About why she had ended here. And maybe then he could consider removing that collar. But not before he was certain he wouldn't regret it.
The woman bit her lower lip and nodded again. And so they looked at each other.
Pike cocked his head. "What's your name?" he tried. Maybe she could gesture it or write it down. She pointed at the tattoo.
"One?" Pike asked and she shook her head, pointing at the tattoo twice, mimicking a word with her mouth. He frowned, "Number One?" he tried.
She nodded. How original.
"That's not a name," he scoffed but the woman just stared and pointed at her tattoo again.
"Very well, Number One. I'm Captain Christopher Pike of the ISS Enterprise, and you're coming with me."