When Universes Collide
Title: "When Universes Collide"
Author: PrettySirenx
Rating: PG-13 (sorta)
Genre: Cracky with less cracky moments mixed in. And, as the name might imply, it's a cross-over!
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. Or Star Trek. Sadly.
A/N: Response to the Sylaire meet Spock prompt from buffybot76. I wrote it to be a sequel to my previous cross-over fic, When Anomalies Collide and should be taken as such to make sense. (If you haven't read the first one, just pretend you did so it makes more sense. lol)
“First Officer’s Log,” said a voice into a recorder. “The Enterprise has received an archaic distress call from a small moon, encircling an uninhabitable planet in the Pleiades star system. We will arrive there in approximately three minutes and twenty seconds to investigate the matter.”
Claire sat down on a mossy rock and threw a twig (or rather small branch) at Sylar’s head.
“I hate you so much right now,” she seethed.
Sylar turned around, rubbing the back of his head. He folded his arms, regarding her.
“You’re the one who thought it’d be fun to take the scenic route.”
“You’re the one who wanted to land on this godforsaken moon!” she raged, throwing more sticks and rocks and whatever she could get her hands on at his head.
It was true -- it had been his idea. He thought it would be romantic. After all, it was the two-hundred-and-ninety-third anniversary of the first time they had sex. He wanted to do something special and thought a picnic, followed by a romp in the wilderness, would be nice.
The moon encircled a large, pink gas giant which had rings of gold around it. It cast a reddish aura on the moon, causing the green foliage to seem ethereal in its glow in the daylight of the orange star.
Not to mention, he chose the Pleiades for symbolism. By that time, through their unions, they’d had seven daughters, just like Atlas and Pleione. And Sylar knew that if Claire wasn’t on her fucking period, she might well have caught the subtle nuance.
Now, however, they were in a mess. Their ship’s subspace acceleration drive fizzled out, stranding them there.
“I sent out a distress signal an hour ago,” he said. “Someone will receive it.”
“Yes, but who?” Claire asked, furrowing her brow. “You forget that we haven’t been home in almost two-hundred years. Many of the aliens we’ve encountered don’t even speak our language.”
“Someone will come,” Sylar said decisively. They had to.
Spock reported to the bridge. Kirk sat in the captain’s chair, his chin in his hand, and a look of whimsy about his face.
“I wish I could go,” he said childishly.
“You are the captain, Captain,” said Spock, void of emotion. “It would be illogical.”
“Very well,” grumbled Kirk, “You and Uhura get down there and report back to me. Take a few redshirts with you. I’m eager to get out of here and onto something more interesting.”
“Aye, Captain,” Spock replied, glancing briefly at Uhura, who was beaming.
She stood up and followed him out off of the deck and into the lift, where she grabbed him passionately, kissing him eagerly and desperately.
“What are you doing?” he asked, though he found he really didn’t object to her doing these things to him. In fact, he rather enjoyed it, clinging to the back of her dress with the same sort of desperation she possessed.
“This is the first chance we’ve had to be alone since the Romulan incident,” she said between kisses. “I’ve got to have you when I can get you.”
“Very well,” he replied, allowing her to do whatever she wanted until the doors opened again.
“You know,” said Sylar, sitting down on the rock next to Claire, “we could find a way to pass the time while we wait.”
“How do you suppose we do that?”
His finger trailed down her arm, finding her hand which he kissed; he traced his kisses back up her arm reaching her neck much like Gomez Addams.
“The way we always pass time,” he whispered in her ear.
Still, after all of these years, she shivered each time he did that. His breath was like electricity, igniting her skin and shocking it so seductively.
She kissed him in response. After all, it was a very enjoyable way to spend time. Once, they spent an entire month having sex constantly. It never got boring. In fact, it only deepened their unending connection.
Their kisses became so wild that both fell off of the rock and onto the moss-covered ground, where they rolled around; tearing off each other’s clothes, layer by layer. But when they were in their underwear, through the sensual fog and heat, they heard a third party clear its throat.
They looked up.
“You,” Sylar said, his eyes widening.
“So we meet again,” said Spock, Uhura and the redshirts close behind him.
Claire laughed. The hilarity of it all was just too insane.
“I always knew living forever would make me go crazy at some point,” she said looking from her life-mate to the Vulcan and back again. “But this is just odd. This is Star Trek. This doesn’t exist.”
Uhura held up her scanner, scanning both Sylar and Claire remotely.
“They’re human,” she said. “But they’re both over three hundred years old.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Sylar, standing up to better examine Spock. “You’re here.”
Claire’s smile fell and she asked, alarmed, “You see them too?”
He nodded. “I met him when I was thirty-two,” he said. “In a field in Iowa in 1954 -- for some reason.”
“Ah yes, the spatial-temporal anomaly,” said Spock. “For me, that was only two weeks ago. Also, this raises the question of how you are here, in a universe where I and my colleagues are not characters on a television show, like they are in your home universe.”
One of the redshirts was scanning Sylar and Claire’s busted ship.
“I believe I can answer that, sir,” he said. “Their ship consists of a subspace accelerator.”
“Ah yes,” said Spock. “The subspace accelerator was an early human attempt at faster-than-light travel. While somewhat effective, though less so than the warp drive, it had the adverse effect of sometimes spitting itself out in random universes, thus it was quickly abandoned after its initial release in favor of Vulcan technology.”
“I knew I never trusted the guy you bought this piece of junk from,” said Claire, elbowing Sylar as she threw on her shirt over her bra. It was unsettling for movie characters to look at her in her underwear, let alone strangers.
“I got a good deal on it,” he huffed. Then he turned to Spock as he put on his pants. “So, we’re in your universe now?”
“Yes,” said Spock.
“This was a low-end model when it was bought,” said the redshirt, as he continued his scanning. “Only an idiot would’ve bought it.”
“Your sort die first,” said Sylar viciously, casting a snarl in the redshirt’s direction.
Claire elbowed him. “Don’t ruin our only hope of getting off this rock, please.” She turned to Spock, “Where do we go from here? Can we ever go home again?”
“The Vulcan Science Academy was working on a means of inter-universal travel, though they were destroyed and the work was lost. However, my future-self is currently attempting to replicate their research in hopes of returning to his own universe.”
All of this information made Claire’s head hurt. But this was life when Sylar was around. He was always getting them into the strangest situations. Being his woman, she merely rolled with the punches. She’d been doing so for three centuries; she’d do it for another three trillion.
“I’d like a shower,” she said in an attempt at adaption. “A shower would be nice.”
“That can be arranged on board the Enterprise,” said Uhura, putting a comforting arm around her and leading her to the shuttle.
Spock and Sylar lagged behind.
“So, it seems apparent you worked out the situation with Claire,” said Spock.
“How’d dinner with Uhura’s parents go?” asked Sylar in response as they headed through the purple sunset behind the others.
“Let’s just say I’ve been forbidden from impregnating her until she’s captain of her own ship. I suppose it to be an attempt at making sure I don’t ruin their intended career path for her. They’re very overbearing.”
“And that’s why I killed my parents,” said Sylar, clapping him on the shoulder. “They only get in the way.”
Author: PrettySirenx
Rating: PG-13 (sorta)
Genre: Cracky with less cracky moments mixed in. And, as the name might imply, it's a cross-over!
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. Or Star Trek. Sadly.
A/N: Response to the Sylaire meet Spock prompt from buffybot76. I wrote it to be a sequel to my previous cross-over fic, When Anomalies Collide and should be taken as such to make sense. (If you haven't read the first one, just pretend you did so it makes more sense. lol)
“First Officer’s Log,” said a voice into a recorder. “The Enterprise has received an archaic distress call from a small moon, encircling an uninhabitable planet in the Pleiades star system. We will arrive there in approximately three minutes and twenty seconds to investigate the matter.”
Claire sat down on a mossy rock and threw a twig (or rather small branch) at Sylar’s head.
“I hate you so much right now,” she seethed.
Sylar turned around, rubbing the back of his head. He folded his arms, regarding her.
“You’re the one who thought it’d be fun to take the scenic route.”
“You’re the one who wanted to land on this godforsaken moon!” she raged, throwing more sticks and rocks and whatever she could get her hands on at his head.
It was true -- it had been his idea. He thought it would be romantic. After all, it was the two-hundred-and-ninety-third anniversary of the first time they had sex. He wanted to do something special and thought a picnic, followed by a romp in the wilderness, would be nice.
The moon encircled a large, pink gas giant which had rings of gold around it. It cast a reddish aura on the moon, causing the green foliage to seem ethereal in its glow in the daylight of the orange star.
Not to mention, he chose the Pleiades for symbolism. By that time, through their unions, they’d had seven daughters, just like Atlas and Pleione. And Sylar knew that if Claire wasn’t on her fucking period, she might well have caught the subtle nuance.
Now, however, they were in a mess. Their ship’s subspace acceleration drive fizzled out, stranding them there.
“I sent out a distress signal an hour ago,” he said. “Someone will receive it.”
“Yes, but who?” Claire asked, furrowing her brow. “You forget that we haven’t been home in almost two-hundred years. Many of the aliens we’ve encountered don’t even speak our language.”
“Someone will come,” Sylar said decisively. They had to.
Spock reported to the bridge. Kirk sat in the captain’s chair, his chin in his hand, and a look of whimsy about his face.
“I wish I could go,” he said childishly.
“You are the captain, Captain,” said Spock, void of emotion. “It would be illogical.”
“Very well,” grumbled Kirk, “You and Uhura get down there and report back to me. Take a few redshirts with you. I’m eager to get out of here and onto something more interesting.”
“Aye, Captain,” Spock replied, glancing briefly at Uhura, who was beaming.
She stood up and followed him out off of the deck and into the lift, where she grabbed him passionately, kissing him eagerly and desperately.
“What are you doing?” he asked, though he found he really didn’t object to her doing these things to him. In fact, he rather enjoyed it, clinging to the back of her dress with the same sort of desperation she possessed.
“This is the first chance we’ve had to be alone since the Romulan incident,” she said between kisses. “I’ve got to have you when I can get you.”
“Very well,” he replied, allowing her to do whatever she wanted until the doors opened again.
“You know,” said Sylar, sitting down on the rock next to Claire, “we could find a way to pass the time while we wait.”
“How do you suppose we do that?”
His finger trailed down her arm, finding her hand which he kissed; he traced his kisses back up her arm reaching her neck much like Gomez Addams.
“The way we always pass time,” he whispered in her ear.
Still, after all of these years, she shivered each time he did that. His breath was like electricity, igniting her skin and shocking it so seductively.
She kissed him in response. After all, it was a very enjoyable way to spend time. Once, they spent an entire month having sex constantly. It never got boring. In fact, it only deepened their unending connection.
Their kisses became so wild that both fell off of the rock and onto the moss-covered ground, where they rolled around; tearing off each other’s clothes, layer by layer. But when they were in their underwear, through the sensual fog and heat, they heard a third party clear its throat.
They looked up.
“You,” Sylar said, his eyes widening.
“So we meet again,” said Spock, Uhura and the redshirts close behind him.
Claire laughed. The hilarity of it all was just too insane.
“I always knew living forever would make me go crazy at some point,” she said looking from her life-mate to the Vulcan and back again. “But this is just odd. This is Star Trek. This doesn’t exist.”
Uhura held up her scanner, scanning both Sylar and Claire remotely.
“They’re human,” she said. “But they’re both over three hundred years old.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Sylar, standing up to better examine Spock. “You’re here.”
Claire’s smile fell and she asked, alarmed, “You see them too?”
He nodded. “I met him when I was thirty-two,” he said. “In a field in Iowa in 1954 -- for some reason.”
“Ah yes, the spatial-temporal anomaly,” said Spock. “For me, that was only two weeks ago. Also, this raises the question of how you are here, in a universe where I and my colleagues are not characters on a television show, like they are in your home universe.”
One of the redshirts was scanning Sylar and Claire’s busted ship.
“I believe I can answer that, sir,” he said. “Their ship consists of a subspace accelerator.”
“Ah yes,” said Spock. “The subspace accelerator was an early human attempt at faster-than-light travel. While somewhat effective, though less so than the warp drive, it had the adverse effect of sometimes spitting itself out in random universes, thus it was quickly abandoned after its initial release in favor of Vulcan technology.”
“I knew I never trusted the guy you bought this piece of junk from,” said Claire, elbowing Sylar as she threw on her shirt over her bra. It was unsettling for movie characters to look at her in her underwear, let alone strangers.
“I got a good deal on it,” he huffed. Then he turned to Spock as he put on his pants. “So, we’re in your universe now?”
“Yes,” said Spock.
“This was a low-end model when it was bought,” said the redshirt, as he continued his scanning. “Only an idiot would’ve bought it.”
“Your sort die first,” said Sylar viciously, casting a snarl in the redshirt’s direction.
Claire elbowed him. “Don’t ruin our only hope of getting off this rock, please.” She turned to Spock, “Where do we go from here? Can we ever go home again?”
“The Vulcan Science Academy was working on a means of inter-universal travel, though they were destroyed and the work was lost. However, my future-self is currently attempting to replicate their research in hopes of returning to his own universe.”
All of this information made Claire’s head hurt. But this was life when Sylar was around. He was always getting them into the strangest situations. Being his woman, she merely rolled with the punches. She’d been doing so for three centuries; she’d do it for another three trillion.
“I’d like a shower,” she said in an attempt at adaption. “A shower would be nice.”
“That can be arranged on board the Enterprise,” said Uhura, putting a comforting arm around her and leading her to the shuttle.
Spock and Sylar lagged behind.
“So, it seems apparent you worked out the situation with Claire,” said Spock.
“How’d dinner with Uhura’s parents go?” asked Sylar in response as they headed through the purple sunset behind the others.
“Let’s just say I’ve been forbidden from impregnating her until she’s captain of her own ship. I suppose it to be an attempt at making sure I don’t ruin their intended career path for her. They’re very overbearing.”
“And that’s why I killed my parents,” said Sylar, clapping him on the shoulder. “They only get in the way.”