printprint this story!

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related elements, characters and indicia © CBS Studios Inc. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations—save those created by the authors for use solely on this website—are copyright CBS Studios Inc..

Please do not archive or distribute without author's permission.

Author's Note: Written for celli for Fandom Stocking.

Downtime
by LJC

The cell was barely large enough for both of them. It was dank, dark, and both of them had smacked their heads on the low ceiling when they tried to stand for the first time after being tossed inside by the burly leather-clad guards.

"So, next time I say 'we should really get away' I say we try Risa," Pike said conversationally. He leaned up against the damp stone wall and rested one arm on an upraised knee, the other leg stretched out, boot touching the heavy metal cell door.

"You're the one who said Risa was too touristy," Number One reminded him as she continued trying to pick the lock with a bent piece of wire.

"It is, but there are remarkably few crazed feudal warlords on Risa. And the most danger you tend to be in is from sunburn. Or dehydration and fatigue from too much jamaharon."

Her hand stilled on the lock. "Tell me that's not the voice of experience."

"Well, not my experience. Phil's the one who swears three days on Risa is like spending two weeks anywhere else."

"Whereas three days on Septima Prime may be the last three days we ever spend anywhere."

"You're so pessimistic."

She gritted her teeth, and continued working on the lock.

"You know, I'm not the one who started poking through a murderous warlord's personal finances."

"He left the ledger out in the open. It's not my fault his bookkeeping was sloppy."

"Getting thrown in the dungeon for discovering the fiefdom's lord, or whatever they call it, was skimming from the quarterly tax collection is hardly the worst scrape we've ever gotten into."

"No, there was that time on Altair IV where we were almost burned at the stake when someone thought the Regent's underage daughter had a pretty smile, and someone started a bar brawl to defend her honour."

"She did have a nice smile," he said wistfully.

"You do understand we're going to be publicly executed in the morning?"

He sighed. "Give me that."

The tumbler turns with a click after only a few seconds, and she scowls at him.

"Are you coming?"

"This is the worst vacation we've ever had," she muttered as they started looking for handy weapons to fight their way out of the keep.


email:

you like? you hate? feedback...

ljc's fan fiction