Legal Disclaimer: Any characters or events that seem to mimic real life are purely coincidental . . . and, hey, if there is anyone meeting nasty gray aliens with claws, I want to talk to them! hee, hee>
Alternative Universe: Well, folks, because I'm insane enough to combine seaQuest, Voyager, and DS9 all together into one plot, there are some obvious changes! You'll notice the "obvious changes" quickly, I think.
Rating: PG-13. (PG for "Pretty Galling"!) Actually, it is PG-13 because of some violence and bad language (not overly strong, though).
Archiving: Just ask first. I'll probably say yes. :)
Cautionary Advice: (Clearing throat) Be prepared for a hefty dose of "suspension of disbelief." There is a degree of the intentionally ludicrous here. :) But remember . . . I warned you!
Length Advisory: Be prepared for a long haul! Currently, I haven't even set a cap on the number of parts involved . . .
Summary: seaQuest, plus Deep Space Nine, plus Voyager equals . . . lots of fun! Here's the short synopsis: Captain Bridger commands a starship, the Voyager both reaches earth and doesn't, and the Defiant gets sucked into yet another wormhole! Hmmm . . . crazy, isn't it? Well, of course it is . . . this is Sheri writing! :)
Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away (snicker, snicker) . . .
[Scene: a tiny, overheated, over-packed office. Computer books and computer parts scatter across the floor; the computer parts are the cannibalized parts of old computers being reassembled into a sort of Frankenstein Computer, its wires tangled and hanging everywhere.
On the wall is a DART BOARD. Pasted on each of the dart board's slices is a small piece of paper. On each piece of paper is a scrawled note. We see the words on two of these slips of paper as we approach: note one reads, The Klingon Empire is secretly in league with the aliens abducting Lucas—they hope to declare war on the Federation and note two reads, The Klingon Empire is secretly at war with the aliens abducting Lucas—they hope the aliens are both colorblind and stupid and will somehow manage to overlook the obvious fact that Lucas isn't Klingon.
In the small office, standing in the entrance, is SHERI, the author of this whacky work. Behind her is assembled the various CAST and CREW of her story, "Infinity." At this point in time, they are clearly divided into factions: the seaQuest crew versus the Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and Star Trek: Voyager crews. Wild, obnoxious cheering is heard from both factions.]
SHERI: (glares at her characters) All right, all right! Will you guys just settle down! (Stretches her dart arm, limbering up for the final throw) Yikes, you'd think none of you have anything better to do than stand around haunting me! (Thinks about it for a moment, then sighs) Of course, I know, I know . . . since you're all figments of my imagination anyway, you don't have anything better to do.
CHIEF MILES O'BRIEN: (ale in hand) Oh, just throw the blarmy old dart, will ya'? You're taking longer than Julian, even!
DR. JULIAN BASHIR: (offended pout on his face) Hey, I have a reputation to uphold, you know! I have my standards! After all, I'm genetically enhanced and at the peak of my performance . . . (Breaks off as he sees everyone—seaQuest crew included—mimicking his words, as if in rehearsal) But it's true, you know! It is!
TOM PARIS, NOW-ENSIGN BUT ONE-TIME LIEUTENANT: (rolling those gorgeous blue eyes of his) Oh, please . . . someone gag him, will ya'?
ENGINEER B'ELANNA TORRES: (grinning wickedly, pulling out a gag that mysteriously appears out of a space anomaly just when she needs it) Oh, come here, cutie . . .
[BASHIR runs in terror. TORRES chases him, still grinning wickedly.]
SHERI: (aside, muttering to self) My imagination and I really have to have a talk about this . . .
BRIDGER: (looking curiously at his crew) Are you sure that wasn't LONNIE?
[As one, the group shudders.]
KRISTIN: (shakes head) No, LONNIE was found to be a succubus. Don't you remember, Nathan . . . (stops herself, then flushes a nice red) . . . Oh, no, of course you don't remember . . . you were . . . otherwise occupied with the succubus herself. (Kristin shudders with the rest of the seaQuest crew)
SHERI: (trying to bring some order back, whistles) Hey, folks! Remember me?
[BASHIR and TORRES race past, TORRES now cooing at the fleeing doctor.]
SHERI: (shakes head, as if to clear it of a bad nightmare. Raises voice and waves her arms for everyone's attention) Hello? Anyone listening out there? (Frustrated, SHERI starts to throw the darts at BASHIR and TORRES. They simply ignore the little winged projectiles and keep on running) We were here to find out the next plot twist . . .
LUCAS: (more interested in BASHIR and TORRES as he sees TORRES is now wielding a pair of scissors) Where'd she get the scissors? (Grinning, he then seems to think of another question) Hey, even better . . . what's she gonna do with those scissors?
[Everyone gulps as unquestionably kinky images hit their minds . . . ]
SHERI: (audible groan) I give up! You characters are more insane than I am!
And with that, let us return to our hero, who is currently in the
Clawed Clutches of the Evil Gray Aliens . . .
Infinity: A Crossover
Part Nine
Alien Alchemy
Darkness.
Vaguely, out of the darkness that was his mind, Lucas remembered a claw: a sharp-taloned, gray claw, reaching out of a cave to grab him. His sluggish mind stopped there, puzzled. No, there was even more. The claw had reached out of a cave wall to grab him—as if the wall had never existed, as if it weren't solid stone. The wall had actually melted, sizzling (Lucas thought rather inappropriately that it had sizzled like bacon); but rocks simply didn't sizzle. Rocks didn't melt into puddles on the floor. Impossible, his mind responded. But the impossible was apparently possible in this strange frozen wasteland.
Pain burned into his memory, and the strange, distorted images disappeared . . . only to be replaced by darkness yet again.
Eyes shut as darkness cloaked him, Lucas heard sounds . . . strange, sibilant sounds that sent chills through his body. A hiss echoed beside his ear, then a higher pitched near-cackle. Lucas shivered. But at least these were sounds, which were far better than the silence of his mind.
A shuffling noise sounded to his right. He felt something scrape across his wrist.
And then his world once more faded into nothingness.
*****
Some time later, the blackness cleared. Lucas carefully, warily, opened his eyes. He inhaled and exhaled, simply concentrating on his breathing: on living. He was alive. Somehow, he had survived . . . whatever had happened.
He frowned.
So . . . why was he still alive? And who—what—had taken him?
Pondering these questions, Lucas cautiously tried to move.
But found he couldn't.
Panic struck, gnawing at his insides until full-blown terror raced through his mind. Lucas forced his eyes to make some sort of sense of the strange images surrounding him. As his eyes gradually began to refocus, Lucas frowned at what he saw. Where the hell could he be? Strange, tubular black . . . rope-like things . . . hung from what looked like a cave ceiling, the tentacle-like tubes draping over one another, crossing this way and that in a labyrinth of equally strange twists and turns. The air was strangely chilled, almost freezing. Long slabs of gray, perhaps about eight feet each, lined the chamber or cavern—or whatever it was—he was in, each slab encased by shimmering blue transparent covers . . .
Lucas's eyebrows suddenly shot near the top of his hairline. It would seem that he, too, was lying upon one of these gray slabs, for he could see the glowing glass-like substance extending over his head and past his sight. What was this . . . an alien coffin? Did they believe him dead? Lucas's overly vivid imagination suddenly began to overtake his senses as numerous dark, sinister possibilities flooded his mind. Was it some sort of torture chamber where recalcitrant prisoners were locked beneath glass-like sheets and—shocked or stunned or pulverized by any variety of instruments? Did they plan to use that pain-inducing . . . stuff . . . to torment him again: the alien alchemy that had sent his blood screaming throughout his body? Were they planning to bury him alive? Or maybe . . . maybe they were planning to dissect him . . .?
He shivered violently, tearing at the bindings holding him in place. He'd always wanted to meet an alien or two, a race that had never encountered humanoid species before; however, this wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind.
Pulling uselessly at his bindings, Lucas suddenly wondered . . . what did these strange creatures eat?
As he began to picture himself sizzling in the alien version of barbecue sauce, Lucas would have jumped in shock if he could move at all as a loud thump sounded above him. Quickly, he looked up, eyes blinking.
A dark, black-eyed, gray-skinned, heavily-robed figure caught his eye.
Hell.
He watched, terrified, as the alien tugged at the glassy shielding above him, then removed it with one clear sweep. As the creature leaned over him, its black eyes glittering at him—entirely incomprehensible to Lucas as he lay looking up at it helplessly—Lucas half expected the creature to try to eat him. But, instead, the creature reached down towards him. Involuntarily, Lucas flinched, expecting torture, interrogation, whatever. Surely something unpleasant.
Carefully, the black-eyed alien paused, then continued reaching towards him. Its movements were now much more cautious. Softly, it spoke in hissing words to him—words that Lucas could not hope to understand. It moved its claws in time to the rhythmic, patterned speech; the creature's speech seemed a complicated dance of words and movements. Still both moving carefully and hissing softly at Lucas, the alien unhooked several tubes from around Lucas's wrists and feet.
"Zy zadorri sassin-hi amorass'ka," spoke the creature. "Na'hidri zamorre. Morakkon lyoshka." Lucas thought he saw what looked like an expectant expression on the alien's face, but he couldn't imagine for the life of him what he was expected to do. The words uttered at him were entirely incomprehensible to his human ear. As Lucas continued to stare back at the dark alien without comprehension, it made what Lucas could only identify as a cackling noise, then quickly gestured for him to sit up by waving its claws in an upward gesture.
This gesture Lucas understood. He quickly complied, again allowing his gaze to slide around him.
The place gave him the creeps.
However, as two other aliens dressed in a skin-like, scale-covered, glittering green material made of the strangest substance Lucas had ever seen arrived, Lucas wished he could simply stay where he was, creepy or not.
The newly arrived aliens in green seemed to have other ideas. They mercilessly hauled Lucas to his feet without any hesitation, hissed something at the creature in black robes, then dragged Lucas with them, their claws digging into his skin. Lucas winced, but continued to follow, scrambling his feet after the tall creatures. Something about these two aliens made Lucas think he couldn't afford to upset them. They were sinister. Their faces were as if carved from the rock itself: unmoving, unemotional, uncompromising. The eyes--the eyes were enough to shake Lucas to the core. They were cold, measuring. They were calculating.
Lucas had seen eyes like that in human beings. He'd quickly learned to avoid the people who owned them.
Onwards their trek continued. The growing knot in his stomach twisted as Lucas saw that their brisk pace was leading him steadily downward, deeper and deeper within the ground. He swallowed hard. Damn. Hell, he silently cursed. His wrist ached as one of the aliens tugged at it, its cruel onyx eyes piercing straight through his fear. Hell and damnation. Lucas quickly obeyed the creature's unspoken command to walk faster, faster, faster; he was almost positive his wrist would snap if he didn't.
Further they continued into the inhospitable frozen ground's underbelly, a general sense of foreboding settling on Lucas the deeper they went.
