The Undying One
Title: The Undying One
Fandoms: Star Trek TNG/Torchwood Crossover
Characters: Will Riker, Deanna Troi, Jack Harkness, OCs
Rating: Gen
Orientation: Gen (I know, right? A Jack Gen story???)
Word Count: 1,712
Prompt: Worship
We beamed in far enough from the largest village on the planet so that we would not arouse suspicion. I was distinctly uncomfortable wearing only a loincloth, but I suppose Deanna was just as uncomfortable in the leather bikini that barely covered her. If I didn’t need her skills on this mission I would have insisted that she remain on the Endeavor. We had opted for sub-q communicators for this mission, my neck still itched from where it had been injected. But the sub-q would translate for us, so long as there were not more than three or four languages being spoken.
Our first officer had been killed several weeks ago, and his replacement, Lieutenant Commander Stevens, was from sciences and quite inexperienced with away missions. I knew I was being a complete hypocrite in leading the mission myself, after all those years of insisting Captain Picard stay safely onboard the Enterprise while I took charge of away missions, but I wanted to let Stevens get his feet wet on a few easy missions while I could supervise.
Besides, I missed going out in the field.
Stevens and our science officer, Kalek, were also wearing loincloths. The scans we had done of the planet had shown a pre-industrial civilization, we wanted to blend in as much as possible. Our rucksacks were made of leather. We had some trade goods; wood carved combs, beads, some thread. There was nothing in our bags that was too weird or exotic that might arouse too much suspicion. It was enough that we were strangers.
We had come to this planet because our communications officer, Mela, had picked up a weak signal, an old-fashioned Morse code SOS. And so, here we were, traipsing through the woods with barely any clothing on to investigate.
The party of natives appeared out of nowhere, brandishing spears. We held our hands up where they could see we were unarmed. I noticed that Stevens had a hand wavering near the back of his neck, over his sub-q, ready to hit the panic button to have us beamed back to the ship.
“We come in peace,” I said, scanning the group to identify their strengths.
The spears lowered slightly.
“You come to worship?” The one in front asked.
“We respect all faiths,” Deanna said, not committing to a yes or no. All we needed was to find ourselves involved in some ritual because we spoke to soon.
“The Undying One draws many worshippers. Do you come to see Undying One?”
Tricky. I thought quickly. “May we observe without taking part?”
The leader gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, a universal human gesture for ‘suit yourself.’ He pointed towards the sun with his spear. “The sun goes. It is almost time. Come.”
We followed them along the path for a way before one of them spoke. He had a tattoo that covered most of his face, dark swirls in an intricate pattern. “You will believe. All who see believe in the Undying One.”
When we arrived at their village, there was a crowd gathered, facing the setting sun. I didn’t notice the man at first. He was on a low platform, bound by wrist and ankles to a rough-hewn cross. At his feet were plates of fruit, offe3rings perhaps.
“What is happening here?” I asked the leader of the band that had brought us to the village.
“The Undying One will take our message to the gods. When he returns, he may bring a message back.”
I didn’t like this, not one bit. The man looked to be middle aged; his hair was brown, and shorter than the people in the village. His skin was pale, several shades lighter than the natives. He was tall, where the rest of these people were of a short, slight stature. He didn’t appear to be injured, but he did look weary.
We were told to stand at the side of the crowd as they knelt and stared at the man. An old woman wearing a great number of necklaces of wood and bone and rocks walked slowly up to stand in front of the man.
“Well, what’s it to be today?” the man asked, in English.
Deanna turned and looked at me in surprise. “He is not frightened,” she whispered, using her empathic senses. “He is annoyed, tired and resigned, but he isn’t frightened.”
“Orma is near her birthing time, we ask for blessings from the mother goddess upon her,” the old woman said.
“Yeah, okay, sure.” The man closed his eyes and tilted his head back. A warrior stepped forward. He was easily identified as such by his size, by his bearing, by his tattoos and by the blade he drew from a sheath at his hip. He watched the sun, and when it dipped below the horizon, he stabbed the man on the cross through the heart.
I was shocked. Deanna grasped my arm, distraught as she picked up on the man’s pain. I reached out and caught Stevens by the arm when he started forward. The warrior cleaned the blade with a rag. Blood dripped down from the wound, caught in a pottery cup the old woman held up. “Captain, they killed him,” Stevens whispered in shock.
“We can’t interfere,” I whispered back. The man had spoken English, however. He was likely the source of the distress signal. I wished we could pull out a tricorder, but this was not the time or place. We needed to blend in to ensure one of us did not end up on the cross next.
The natives began to chant as I looked around for the nearest exit. The man on the cross suddenly gasped and jerked in his bonds. His eyes were open and he was gasping for breath. He was alive. The Undying One.
“Have you a message, Undying One?”
“Do unto others. Not that you understand it, do you? Why are we bothering?” The man said haltingly.
Deanna shook herself from her shock and asked our escort, “Do you understand his message?”
“No, but the old ones will discuss it.” Our translators worked to interpret for us; the Undying One apparently had no such devices.
“We wish to trade. May we stay for a time?” I wanted to talk to this Undying One.
Bless her quick thinking, Deanna asked “May I see the Undying One? His dialect is familiar to me; perhaps I might speak with him?”
This excited our escort; he took Deanna by the arm. She looked over her shoulder at me and touched her hand to the back of her neck. If she could get her hands on the man, she would signal for a beam out.
We heard the uproar about fifteen minutes later. Raised voices spread the news that the Undying One had been spirited away, the stranger had stolen him! That was our cue to get out. “Go,” I said to Kalek and Stevens. They each touched their communicators as I touched mine. Moments later I felt the comforting familiarity of the transport bean wrap around me.
There was no sign of Deanna in the transporter room, so I headed to sickbay immediately. The man was there, Deanna at his side as the doctor checked him over. I walked to the exam bed to stand opposite Doctor Yian. The doctor looked up at me. “No sign of any injuries, Captain Riker. He’s perfectly healthy.”
“I saw you take a knife to the heart,” I said to the man as he sat up.
“I heal fast,” he replied.
“Who are you?”
“Captain Jack Harkness. Call me Jack.”
I couldn’t help but stare at his bare chest, where I had seen the knife go in not half an hour before. It was smooth, unblemished, not a sign of a wound. “How did you get to that planet?”
“Long story, lover’s quarrel. Suffice to say I was dumped, naked with nothing but an emergency beacon. Thanks for the rescue.” He flashed a smile and bowed his head gracefully.
I nodded. “Where are you from?”
“Here and there. Earth, originally. If I could ask one more favor?”
“You could ask,” I told him, wondering what his request might be.
He slid off the exam bed and stretched. “Could I get a ride to Rarchura?”
“That’s in the neutral zone.”
“It won’t always be,” he said enigmatically. “I can get home from there, Captain Riker.” Something about him clued me in; I had this gut feeling that told me I was dealing with another time traveler. Time travelers give me a headache. I rubbed my face and considered it.
“Why aren’t you dead?” I asked. Well, I demanded actually, annoyed that he was probably a time shifting pest, worse, possibly a egotistical higher being out getting his kicks.
He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “Would you believe I live a healthy life and eat all my veggies?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. No one does. Let’s just make a long story short and say I’m afflicted. Cursed, even. My body regenerates.” He looked over at Doctor Yian. “And no, you make not take samples or scans or biopsies or perform any other tests. I know why it happens and the circumstances under which it all started will thankfully never happen again. I’m not a mutation or a link to the next stage of evolution. My blood won’t cure anything.”
I had to smile when Doctor Yian’s shoulders slumped.
“He’s telling the truth,” Deanna said, even though I had already assumed that was the case.
I was getting uncomfortable standing around in nothing more than a loin cloth. “I could start a war, taking you to Rarchura.”
“You won’t. I promise. No one will even know we’re there. Quick in, quick out.”
Deanna had her head tilted as she stared at him. “When I walked into that hut, you were not surprised to see me.”
“Nope,” he admitted with yet another confident grin.
Pressing her lips together, a sure sign that she was getting irritated, Deana asked, “Why?”
“Because you told me yourself how it happened. I was just biding my time until you guys arrived. Hey, I’m hungry; could I get some of Chef’s Beef Wellington?”
I hate time travelers.
The EndOriginally posted at http://rinkafic.dreamwidth.org/
Fandoms: Star Trek TNG/Torchwood Crossover
Characters: Will Riker, Deanna Troi, Jack Harkness, OCs
Rating: Gen
Orientation: Gen (I know, right? A Jack Gen story???)
Word Count: 1,712
Prompt: Worship
We beamed in far enough from the largest village on the planet so that we would not arouse suspicion. I was distinctly uncomfortable wearing only a loincloth, but I suppose Deanna was just as uncomfortable in the leather bikini that barely covered her. If I didn’t need her skills on this mission I would have insisted that she remain on the Endeavor. We had opted for sub-q communicators for this mission, my neck still itched from where it had been injected. But the sub-q would translate for us, so long as there were not more than three or four languages being spoken.
Our first officer had been killed several weeks ago, and his replacement, Lieutenant Commander Stevens, was from sciences and quite inexperienced with away missions. I knew I was being a complete hypocrite in leading the mission myself, after all those years of insisting Captain Picard stay safely onboard the Enterprise while I took charge of away missions, but I wanted to let Stevens get his feet wet on a few easy missions while I could supervise.
Besides, I missed going out in the field.
Stevens and our science officer, Kalek, were also wearing loincloths. The scans we had done of the planet had shown a pre-industrial civilization, we wanted to blend in as much as possible. Our rucksacks were made of leather. We had some trade goods; wood carved combs, beads, some thread. There was nothing in our bags that was too weird or exotic that might arouse too much suspicion. It was enough that we were strangers.
We had come to this planet because our communications officer, Mela, had picked up a weak signal, an old-fashioned Morse code SOS. And so, here we were, traipsing through the woods with barely any clothing on to investigate.
The party of natives appeared out of nowhere, brandishing spears. We held our hands up where they could see we were unarmed. I noticed that Stevens had a hand wavering near the back of his neck, over his sub-q, ready to hit the panic button to have us beamed back to the ship.
“We come in peace,” I said, scanning the group to identify their strengths.
The spears lowered slightly.
“You come to worship?” The one in front asked.
“We respect all faiths,” Deanna said, not committing to a yes or no. All we needed was to find ourselves involved in some ritual because we spoke to soon.
“The Undying One draws many worshippers. Do you come to see Undying One?”
Tricky. I thought quickly. “May we observe without taking part?”
The leader gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, a universal human gesture for ‘suit yourself.’ He pointed towards the sun with his spear. “The sun goes. It is almost time. Come.”
We followed them along the path for a way before one of them spoke. He had a tattoo that covered most of his face, dark swirls in an intricate pattern. “You will believe. All who see believe in the Undying One.”
When we arrived at their village, there was a crowd gathered, facing the setting sun. I didn’t notice the man at first. He was on a low platform, bound by wrist and ankles to a rough-hewn cross. At his feet were plates of fruit, offe3rings perhaps.
“What is happening here?” I asked the leader of the band that had brought us to the village.
“The Undying One will take our message to the gods. When he returns, he may bring a message back.”
I didn’t like this, not one bit. The man looked to be middle aged; his hair was brown, and shorter than the people in the village. His skin was pale, several shades lighter than the natives. He was tall, where the rest of these people were of a short, slight stature. He didn’t appear to be injured, but he did look weary.
We were told to stand at the side of the crowd as they knelt and stared at the man. An old woman wearing a great number of necklaces of wood and bone and rocks walked slowly up to stand in front of the man.
“Well, what’s it to be today?” the man asked, in English.
Deanna turned and looked at me in surprise. “He is not frightened,” she whispered, using her empathic senses. “He is annoyed, tired and resigned, but he isn’t frightened.”
“Orma is near her birthing time, we ask for blessings from the mother goddess upon her,” the old woman said.
“Yeah, okay, sure.” The man closed his eyes and tilted his head back. A warrior stepped forward. He was easily identified as such by his size, by his bearing, by his tattoos and by the blade he drew from a sheath at his hip. He watched the sun, and when it dipped below the horizon, he stabbed the man on the cross through the heart.
I was shocked. Deanna grasped my arm, distraught as she picked up on the man’s pain. I reached out and caught Stevens by the arm when he started forward. The warrior cleaned the blade with a rag. Blood dripped down from the wound, caught in a pottery cup the old woman held up. “Captain, they killed him,” Stevens whispered in shock.
“We can’t interfere,” I whispered back. The man had spoken English, however. He was likely the source of the distress signal. I wished we could pull out a tricorder, but this was not the time or place. We needed to blend in to ensure one of us did not end up on the cross next.
The natives began to chant as I looked around for the nearest exit. The man on the cross suddenly gasped and jerked in his bonds. His eyes were open and he was gasping for breath. He was alive. The Undying One.
“Have you a message, Undying One?”
“Do unto others. Not that you understand it, do you? Why are we bothering?” The man said haltingly.
Deanna shook herself from her shock and asked our escort, “Do you understand his message?”
“No, but the old ones will discuss it.” Our translators worked to interpret for us; the Undying One apparently had no such devices.
“We wish to trade. May we stay for a time?” I wanted to talk to this Undying One.
Bless her quick thinking, Deanna asked “May I see the Undying One? His dialect is familiar to me; perhaps I might speak with him?”
This excited our escort; he took Deanna by the arm. She looked over her shoulder at me and touched her hand to the back of her neck. If she could get her hands on the man, she would signal for a beam out.
We heard the uproar about fifteen minutes later. Raised voices spread the news that the Undying One had been spirited away, the stranger had stolen him! That was our cue to get out. “Go,” I said to Kalek and Stevens. They each touched their communicators as I touched mine. Moments later I felt the comforting familiarity of the transport bean wrap around me.
There was no sign of Deanna in the transporter room, so I headed to sickbay immediately. The man was there, Deanna at his side as the doctor checked him over. I walked to the exam bed to stand opposite Doctor Yian. The doctor looked up at me. “No sign of any injuries, Captain Riker. He’s perfectly healthy.”
“I saw you take a knife to the heart,” I said to the man as he sat up.
“I heal fast,” he replied.
“Who are you?”
“Captain Jack Harkness. Call me Jack.”
I couldn’t help but stare at his bare chest, where I had seen the knife go in not half an hour before. It was smooth, unblemished, not a sign of a wound. “How did you get to that planet?”
“Long story, lover’s quarrel. Suffice to say I was dumped, naked with nothing but an emergency beacon. Thanks for the rescue.” He flashed a smile and bowed his head gracefully.
I nodded. “Where are you from?”
“Here and there. Earth, originally. If I could ask one more favor?”
“You could ask,” I told him, wondering what his request might be.
He slid off the exam bed and stretched. “Could I get a ride to Rarchura?”
“That’s in the neutral zone.”
“It won’t always be,” he said enigmatically. “I can get home from there, Captain Riker.” Something about him clued me in; I had this gut feeling that told me I was dealing with another time traveler. Time travelers give me a headache. I rubbed my face and considered it.
“Why aren’t you dead?” I asked. Well, I demanded actually, annoyed that he was probably a time shifting pest, worse, possibly a egotistical higher being out getting his kicks.
He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “Would you believe I live a healthy life and eat all my veggies?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. No one does. Let’s just make a long story short and say I’m afflicted. Cursed, even. My body regenerates.” He looked over at Doctor Yian. “And no, you make not take samples or scans or biopsies or perform any other tests. I know why it happens and the circumstances under which it all started will thankfully never happen again. I’m not a mutation or a link to the next stage of evolution. My blood won’t cure anything.”
I had to smile when Doctor Yian’s shoulders slumped.
“He’s telling the truth,” Deanna said, even though I had already assumed that was the case.
I was getting uncomfortable standing around in nothing more than a loin cloth. “I could start a war, taking you to Rarchura.”
“You won’t. I promise. No one will even know we’re there. Quick in, quick out.”
Deanna had her head tilted as she stared at him. “When I walked into that hut, you were not surprised to see me.”
“Nope,” he admitted with yet another confident grin.
Pressing her lips together, a sure sign that she was getting irritated, Deana asked, “Why?”
“Because you told me yourself how it happened. I was just biding my time until you guys arrived. Hey, I’m hungry; could I get some of Chef’s Beef Wellington?”
I hate time travelers.
The EndOriginally posted at http://rinkafic.dreamwidth.org/