n u m b e r o n e

[owedfavors]

# owedfavors ; commander una evers number one  —  of star trek.

at present, this blog is highly private. please do not follow first. highly canon divergent & primarily headcanon-based.   reimagined by katya ( she/her,  30+ ). heavily affiliated with @cptnpike. — carrd  | interest tracker | memes | thread tracker .

a study in  losing & forging one’s identity,    in extreme measures,    and in the cost of secrets.

[nursc]

❛⠀no... i mean? yeah? i guess? well, sort of. yeah, yeah i do. ⠀ ❜

it was the closest thing to a pattern she could weave together. una's visits were few and far between. during a slow shift some time ago, she'd jotted them down in pen and paper, trying to find a connecting thread; enterprise running into a spot of trouble offered itself as an answer.

she chose to interpret that as misbehaving. she had to. it made her grin, and that was such a rare emotion when she thought about una; every other possibility threatened to open a crater in her chest.

❛⠀ advice? well, then, you've already heard my first bit of advice: send your friends flowers. ⠀ ❜

[owedfavors]

it's scarcely worth of being called a smile, the tension at the corner of her mouth. and even if one were to term it such, it would be more wry than mirthful. ❛ I will not bore you with all the tedious logistical reasons why sending my friends flowers, under present circumstances, might be inadvisable. ❜ again, a word scarcely worthy the circumstance it describes. dangerous to the point of catastrophic, however, was rather too hyperbolic for una's tastes, if not wholly unjustified.

she rather thinks, too, that any friend of hers knows better than to expect such usual social gestures — if flowers even were a common gesture among the space-faring. she surely would not know.

❛ and, I admit, that is not exactly the sort of advice I had in mind. in fact, it's less advice and more... ❜ help. assistance. there's half a dozen synonyms that don't quite feel right. ❛ how would you feel about taking a small... sabbatical... ❜

[storytelers]

❛⠀ ⠀tsk, tsk, making excuses, i see.⠀ ⠀❜⠀ if she felt it was needed, he knew that una would have known the exact string of words to properly thank her captain for saving her life. however, he never demanded that of her. never expected her to meet him halfway, and instead wandered into her own strange world, where a simple 'thank you, i would have died if you hadn't come to save me, i can never repay you, captain' is out of the question.

he didn't walk into this room expecting something of the sort. his expectations were well-calibrated, but her blunt admission, after he floundered, did take him by surprise, and he repeated the words back to himself silently with a pleased air, to use at a later date. ❛⠀ ⠀perhaps the mistake was saving you so quickly. i should've been less efficient, made you sweat it out a bit.⠀ ⠀❜⠀

[owedfavors]

it strikes her sometimes how much has changed. once, she would have criticized the suggestion on its logical shortcomings: on the foolishness of wasting time, perhaps, or of risking he situation worsening. now, however, they sit here wasting plenty of time, and she twists the other point of contention into something else entirely.

❛ to have delayed would seem like quite the gamble, captain. either you would have to pull me from worse straights, or you might lose the chance to gloat entirely. I had yet to exhaust all of my options. ❜

una does not add that she had had plenty of time to sweat it out while she devised plans of her own with no way of knowing whether or when starfleet would send aid. she had scarcely needed more time to come face to face with the reality of their predicament, no matter how little of that understanding she willingly shows.

[nursc]

una phrases her question in such a way that it takes christine a moment to process. only when she does -- when the sheer incredulity of it all, the textbook definition of disbelief in her tone, is tucked neatly away where it belongs -- does christine throw her head back and laugh, the tension of the past hour melting away as her shoulders shake with the second wave of giggles that catch on her lips.

❛ i can be very persuasive, ❜ she says, wagging her eyebrows. it'll probably lead una to the wrong conclusion, but she doesn't mind that, just lets the insinuation hang in the air, before an idea snags in her head.

there have been times she's considered knocking on una's door and dragging her to the poetry reading. it's good for the crew to see their captain. but she's far too fond of her to subject her to that. not without pretext, anyway. ❛ you know, if you came to the poetry readings, i think you could fix us. ❜

[owedfavors]

their dear ensign's gullibility may be nearly beyond belief, yet christine's suggestion still manages to top it.

❛ I suspect that my presence would take a great deal of the fun away from the proceedings. ❜ una has no wish to diminish what enjoyment the crew is able to find beneath the looming shadow of war — a real war, not the trivial nonsense of the threat hurled their way in the form of poetry. ❛ no matter how concerned I may now be for the vestiges of my reputation, I would not impose. ❜

besides, una's not sure that 'shows up to the crew's poetry readings' is precisely the image she wishes to cultivate, nor that she wishes to open the doors that doing so would surely open.

perhaps she ought to be thinking on the scope of the long term. little though she cares to face it, una knows that even if this war ended tomorrow, still there would be no returning to before. starfleet had forced her hand under the auspices of urgent necessity, and her former life is closed to her. she should, perhaps, make a greater effort to establish the foundations for permanence, but how much easier it is to focus on the immediate task at hand.

[nursc]

“Sorry I haven’t called.” ( s31 era :) )

it is strange. silence has never sat well with her, not when it comes to her friends. she's spent nearly a decade now in space, travelling further away from home, and she's spent a good chunk of that time bridging the distance. calls, subspace messages, even some old-fashioned letters that she's found a way to get delivered from the other side of the quadrant. something inside of her starts to tick, like a timer, when one friend has been silent too long.

not una. with una, silence is a welcome background noise.

as long as there is no news, it means she's safe. death, she knows, would not stop una for a moment.

❛⠀didn't send flowers either, but i'll i suppose i'll that slide for once,⠀ ❜ she says, pulling the former first officer into a hug, a touch of worry clouding her brows as she pulls back. ❛⠀who misbehaved?⠀ ❜

[owedfavors]

flowers, una thinks to herself, pose even more complications than a subspace call. more hands must be involved, more points of contact. she can route a call through dozens of innocuous relays, encrypt it so as to render it entirely untouchable save by its intended recipient. there is a risk, always a risk, but diminished. controllable. ❛ I wasn't aware flowers were the expectation. ❜ a neutral remark, humor, if indeed there is humor in it, carefully hidden.

unlike the smile christine's question evokes.

❛ you assume if I show my face it's because of misbehaviour? ❜ it is, una supposes, ultimately a fair enough assessment, and one the usual culprit has used to his advantage on more than one occasion. on an alarming number of occasions. ❛ perhaps I came in search of advice, instead. ❜

christine was never supposed to know. it seemed an unfortunate pattern, now, that once her freedom was known, una could no longer keep her distance.

[storytelers]

pike's gaze shifts between the open door and the strange, almost alien woman in front of him a few times. maybe he should close it. have someone else prove his point by walking in and catching them alone in a darkened room, see if she'll have a convincing argument regarding the agency of a door then.

it might also clue her into the fact he's been courting with her for weeks with no success. ❛ i'd knew you would complain i changed your analogy, ❜ he mumbles, running a hand through his mouth, smothering a laugh. ❛ where do you draw the distinction between agency and influence? a door is a portal. it can create, close, even break, it does not merely influence as you state. ❜

[owedfavors]

she had all but told him her distinction already,  but if she must spell it out beyond shadow of a doubt,  then so be it.  una crosses to the bookshelf that sprawls a whole wall,  running her fingertips along the spines of books in search of one that is distinctly not where it belongs.  with an exasperated sigh,  and a mental note to demand of her uncle and cousins once more that they return things to their proper places,  she pulls the dictionary free and flips through pages until she finds the relevant entry. ❛ agency. the faculty of an agent or of acting; active working or operation; action, activity. ❜

closing the book and lifting her gaze once more to his,  she elaborates,  ❛ implying an active ability to exert power without being acted upon by external forces.  I draw the distinction there. if you can prove that a door has any such ability, and therefore may carry the responsibility for effects such as injury ❜ — her gaze flickers momentarily to the bruising upon his brow before she gestures toward the door — ❛ or potential improprieties,  I would be quite impressed. ❜

the corner of her lip tugs in a wry smile. ❛ however, I rather doubt if a door has ever been brought up before legal proceedings for bodily harm produced, or any other crime, and that would seem to be a point in my favor. ❜

[storytelers]

the accused door, the one that bruised both face and ego, vanishes from his mind.

in its stead, christopher focuses solely on her. he knows the focus is not mutual; some corner of her mind keeps whirring as she unravels what happened.

❛ you do know how much i hate to disagree with you, ❜ he murmurs with a tilt of his chin, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, ❛ yet you cannot place a book and a door on equal footing where agency is concerned. though, if you'll allow me, i'm going to slightly modify your comparison, or we shall wander too far. let us see, ah, here! take this globe over here. oh, i can move it around, and so could a strong wind, but it's presence does not alter the characteristics of this room. ❜ hand rests over the globe, closing over the pole as his fingers tap-tap across europe. ❛ a door is quite a different thing. if i stood up and closed the door behind you, i would bar anyone else from disturbing our conversation, or from seeing what we were up to. ❜

[owedfavors]

if he so hated to disagree with her, he would do it with a far rarer frequency — and their conversations would fade into the tedium that generally accompanied just about any conversation she holds with anyone outside of etienn's household. she would hate for him not to disagree with her.

❛ I would note that it's you closing the door in your hypothetical scenario. the agency therefore is yours, and not that of the door, which will stand ajar if undisturbed and has no ability to close itself. your modification has wandered too far: you're no longer discussing agency in the sense of the ability to make decisions and act independently, but rather of influence. in which case I do still think a book makes a more comparable object, but that is neither here nor there. ❜

[storytelers]

a quiet noise of discontent rumbles past his lips when she pulled away. it was rare for her to initiate... well, anything, really. he'd quite forgotten himself when her hand brushed his brow and started spouting nonsense to see that stubborn smile up close. instead, she pulled away.

❛ i have never heard of a door being described in regards to its agency, ❜ he notes. ❛ i've never considered the agency of a door, but out of all household inanimate objects, it certainly is the one with the most agency. ❜

[owedfavors]

perhaps it is an unusual way to conceive of any object, but her point stands and, really, was there a better way to put it? certainly not one so succinct, even if he now quibbles with it. quibbles instead, una notes, of answering her question. she might dig her heels in, repeat the question and refuse to be deterred by anything until he'd explained just what folly had been involved. ultimately, she supposes it doesn't really matter. he's in sufficient possession of his faculties to counter her as he always does, and knowing the source does little to undo any damage regardless.

and so she lets it go — but not the matter of inanimate agency. ❛ the movement of a door is entirely governed by the laws of physics, no different than any other household inanimate object. applied force, be it a person, object, or wind. gravity. if you know those factors, it's wholly predictable. that's no more agency than a book placed precariously on a shelf falling to gravity. ❜

[owedfavors]

⤷ ✧ @storytelers said, ❝ however, you are quite right. let me be more specific. a door ran into me. ❞

disapproval had stilled the light touch of fingers beside the bruising upon his brow, and self-satisfied though he may be at the explanation turned on its head, now she drops her hand to fold her arms before her. ❛ and you allowed it? considering that of you and the door, only you have agency over your movements... the responsibility to avoid a collision would still seem to return to you. ❜

and really, she thinks, to hit one's head against a door — or permit a door to run into one's head — adds an extra level of indignity to the whole proceedings. ❛ what could you possibly have been doing to run into a door? ❜

[storytelers]

❛⠀ ⠀and now we are talking about how you choose to organize and color-code our world.⠀ ⠀❜⠀ his tone carried the faintest edge of a complaint, something that might have sounded like a whine, if not for the fact there was amusement laced through it, a rich laugh falling from his lips. color-coding their world -- she would, or she might complain it wasn't an efficient method of organization. the harder he tried to push against their usual patterns in order to gloat, the more he found himself tangled and underfoot.

❛⠀⠀⠀this whole objective and subjective mess started be- because you failed to thank me properly, you might do well to recall. that is the objective fact we should be discussing,⠀ ⠀ ❜ he says, desperately trying to remember the subject-at-hand, as he knows there is only raised eyebrows in his path if he went down the path she wanted.

@eclipscd

[owedfavors]

he sidesteps, avoids justifying his former claim ( one una maintains is unjustifiable ). it is little surprise. though una considers reminding him that color coding is much more his style than hers — her classifications verge a little bit more to the technical and multifaceted and less toward the aesthetic, she would like to think — she merely lifts an eyebrow and agrees with him. ❛ yes, I did not thank you. ❜ she had, in her own way and not in so many words. her own way of communicating, after all, has always been different, nearly a language of its own, a fact he knows better than any other individual she has ever known.

una masks her smile, pointless though the effort may be in his company. ❛ but considering my general antagonistic relationship with social norms and pleasantries — if you expected anything different, that would seem to be an error on your part. ❜ and that didn't even mention the modus operandi that rather shunned assistance and tended toward unilateral action. of her varied traits that most would see as flaws, there are plenty to wield here in her defense.

[owedfavors]

honestly, the most heinous of snw's crimes is that they still haven't given me spock playing his lyre and una singing together.

[shoulders]

❝ that seems like it’d be a difficult life. ❞

@owedfavors ➤ starter call.

[owedfavors]

within certain objective bounds, it was all a matter of perspective. ❛ perhaps, though I doubt they'd characterize it so. it is all they know. ❜

[vaguepikenoises]

the disbelief clouding her tone draws out a short laugh from him. christopher huffs, shoulders rising before he replies, shoulders lifting in mock offense, a tad too pleased at the opening. ❛⠀ if the shoe fits.⠀ ❜

as she moves toward the the puzzle, he reminds himself to remain as he is, to not stiffen, or pull her back too strongly. taking the offered items, he remains languid and teasing, the worst type of assistant a normal person could ask for.

❛⠀the elephant might not be human, i concede, but i don't think that was ever the point. just like the ugly duckling doesn't need to be a swan, and the frog might as well be a rat, these are just aesthetic choices. ⠀ ❜

[owedfavors]

an aesthetic choice. an arbitrary choice then, phrased another way, if so easily interchanged. and una has opinions on arbitrary choices. her lips purse in disapproval she cannot even direct at a singular responsible party. ❛ isn't there another story about a rat prince? ❜ a sense of familiarity insists there must be, yet she cannot place it...

perhaps for the better; such a story might well only go to prove his point.

she does not wait for an answer, the question more idle musing than anything else. ❛ then explain this to me: why the fascination with talking animals? why not tell a human story with humans? ❜

her motions are assured as she preps the equipment, none of the nonsense of their idle conversation serving to hinder or distract from her efforts. she'll measure each piece, one at a time, create a precise tally of data — of color, density, dimensions, surface roughness — for each. by itself tedious, but processing that amount of data... una stubbornly puts from her mind the imposing thought that this is an illogical pursuit, bound to take too long.

if she has to take the data and create a replica to solve this after their departure and return to test her solution, she might well do it, be it a disproportionate and unwarranted effort or not. though it breaks the rhythm of their conversation, she gestures at the pieces before her with an apologetic, ❛ I'm afraid this may prove tedious. ❜ she does not want him to leave, but the offer is there, permission not to consign himself to a project with no forward momentum.

[vaguepikenoises]

❛⠀ no, i'm actually really good at that. it is part of the lieutenant's exam, but... oh, i shouldn't have told you that, ⠀❜ he says, deadpan, despite still smiling from ear-to-ear, enjoying her insubordination just a bit too much. it was a lie, obviously. just not one entirely unmoored from reality. it hadn't been on any official exam, but that particular knack of his to grasp concepts beyond his actual expertise, had been among the recommendations to bump him up to lieutenant so quickly.

this whole thing with her? getting lost in the smallest of details was wholly unnecessary. he was wasting her time, wasting both their times, but he found value in bothering her. seeing how her mind worked; it challenged him, more than usual.

it wasn't enough just to grasp something. true understanding was necessary to play her game.

❛⠀well? i don't think you answered my question. ⠀❜

[owedfavors]

she doesn't for a moment believe him, and wouldn't even had she not long since ascertained in her usual scrupulous detail the nature of all the qualifications required by the rank. still, she gives the nonsense remark a moment's consideration longer than it seems to warrant. ❛ perhaps it should. and the commander's ought to include listening. ❜ there's a hint of frustration the words, the product of a recommendation rejected out of hand not a week before.

her eyes narrow, however, watching him, and she weighs the hassle of attempting once more to explain the science involved against the benefits. the balance comes up short. ❛ why do you care? it is just science. ❜ even as she says it, the word just chafes against her. it's not particularly relevant science either — not at the present moment, not to him — but even if it were not her little pet project, she still would not dismiss it as just science. still, to him it cannot be something worth asking her to explain a third time.

[vaguepikenoises]

❛⠀ i have no doubts you'll find another thing to critique during dinner, ⠀ ❜ chris muses blandly, an indulgent smile on his lips, delighted at the sudden bark of laughter he stole from her. it was a rare sound, and he wanted to hear it again, but he had to play his cards right.

after all, she hadn't said yes, had she? it was possible she did. with una, you could never be too sure she didn't slip an answer in-between two other words.

❛⠀ but the point of the movie isn't the movie. ⠀ ❜

[owedfavors]

❛ there is a point to something that does not exist? ❜ she does not know if he still refers to the movie he has left from his plans, or to a broader social context, does not know if her accusation of irrationality has any grounds to stand on or is mere misinterpretation.

in another time and place, she might ask. might spin them either down a path of metaphysics and the boundaries of meaning, or into an anthropological evaluation of social customs. in rare deference to the fact that neither is the point, she lets the wry statement stand at that, pushes it no further.

❛ but unless I am much mistaken ❜ — or unless she has failed to learn anything about human behavior and social graces in the many intervening years since she was eighteen and first set foot in san francisco — ❛ it would be rude of me to find other things to critique. ❜ not that una has set much store in what might be perceived as rudeness in all the years he has known her. ❛ I promise to resist the habit. ❜

[vaguepikenoises]

❛ is that so?⠀❜ the words slip out under his breath, too quiet to be for her own ears. a thought spoken aloud, as he filed this tidbit of information in his mental ledger of her, a flicker of joy, boyish-joy, without any pretension, touching the edges of his features, softened by the morning's soft rays of sunshine. this was then what he could expect from her, in her devious moods and pleasant ones, a sparring partner.

not just outwardly clever. not a wit, as society loved to proclaim women to be, but she would be interested. someone who took joy in talking to him in a way he never experienced before. perhaps he was getting ahead of himself, perhaps that was, as she said, a general mood of hers... but he hoped he was special.

❛ but where are my manners? i have been here five minutes and have yet to ask if you are going somewhere tonight? ⠀❜

[owedfavors]

she had convinced herself not moments ago to be kind, to give an answer as direct as possible, but that short-lived spirit of agreeability is swift to fade. ( there is a difference between a question asked in earnest and a question that is no more than a reflection of society's strictures. ) ❛ why is it, ❜ she asks, tone something akin to idle, as if the thought is mere musing, ❛ that society has determined that good manners necessitate a set of routine questions and pleasantries that by nature of being routine ❜ — and by nature of being boring, but she doesn't need to be quite so rude to the breadth of their acquaintances as an undifferentiated whole — ❛ are fundamentally meaningless? ❜

[vaguepikenoises]

❛⠀ if that is more to your liking, than yes, do please deduce it on your own.⠀ ❜

another couple taking a stroll stops for a moment in front of them, the gentleman -- an old acquaintance from his university days -- leaning closer to murmur something about a house party, before continuing on, lying about what he just whispered. christopher dismissed the offer out of hand, but a wave of inspiration brightens his features, a glint of something tucked into his smile.

❛⠀ or, if you would prefer, i can make your introductions.⠀ ❜ to say he hadn't been planning on involving himself at this stage would be incorrect. if only because he hadn't planned ahead at any point, letting his infatuation with her inspire him into each new step. ❛⠀ not that you have any issues with introductions, but if it helps you, i am at your service.⠀ ❜

[owedfavors]

to do things the easy way, or to do things the hard way. it is a better question than shakespeare's, and one far more weighty — at least for una. yet this isn't about the challenge, isn't about testing her intellect, or finding the boundaries of her own abilities.

yet, she smiles, considering that by society's measure, she might well have an issue with introductions — if only in her apparent disregard of their conventions. but as he says, she can find her own way.

❛ since you do not wish her to attribute this in any way to your friend, the less evident a connection there is to trace back to him, the better. for you to make the introduction would only make such a potential connection more clear. but you may tell me her identity, and you likely had best tell me what you know about her. and about your friend. ❜