If X-Files Wrote Star Trek
by Judy- email@example.com
Summary: Challenge story
Disclaimer: They're Paramount's, X-Files is of 1013.
Copyright, 2001. Public or private feedback is welcome.
Archive/Post: ASC; ATPS; others please ask.
If X-Files Wrote Star Trek
Slashing cones of light criss-crossed the gloom of the dark bridge of the starship Voyager. Two hyperalert figures followed their wrist lamps into the menacing interior.
"There's nothing here, Paris," B'Elanna Torres announced with disgust in her voice.
"Then why are the lights out, Torres? And why is it that I feel the presence of something? I know there's something out there."
"Oh, come on, Paris. It's three in the morning and Chakotay ...."
"Computer. Lights." Nothing happened. "Computer respond."
"That's odd," B'Elanna conceded.
The wrist lamps flashed once again illuminating scraps of the bridge as if these momentary fragments could somehow cohere into something recognizable. Turning his lamp to shine on the floor by his feet, Paris indicated that he was going to move to the right. Torres nodded, and like partners who had worked together for all time, they separated and silently explored the territory that loomed darkly around them, the lights jerking to and fro.
Tom Paris' leading foot encountered something. It was both hard and soft and he shined his wrist lamp down to the floor. A boot. A regulation Starfleet boot. Bending down to consider his find, Paris kept his senses alert. Whatever had been able to separate a body from a boot had to be....
Suddenly, he was grabbed over the mouth and tumbled down to the floor of the bridge. Another hand slammed at his wrist and extinguished the light. It felt like a human hand, but he couldn't be sure. Paris fumbled to reach his comm badge and struggled to break free. As he fought, he realized his opponent was a well built man, somewhat smaller than himself, but wiry and strong.
"Sh-h." A mouth covered his ear. "Be quiet and I'll let you go."
Sotto voce, Paris asked, "Kim, are you all right?"
"What's going on?"
"You've got to get out of here. Take Torres and go."
Just then Torres' lamp swept the area and Paris could see the source of the noises that had disturbed him when he'd made a late night return to the bridge and found it dark and ominous. Blue cones of flesh attached to a slender body appeared just to the other side of Harry Kim.
"Kim? Seven?" Torres' incredulous voice cut through the darkness.
"Sorry, Kim. Torres, let's go." Paris stood up and reached for Torres' arm. She was already heading toward the exit, her lamp highlighting it briefly. Paris shrugged and followed her small figure.
The bridge doors swished shut behind them as they entered the brightly lit turbo lift. Paris blinked a few times and wished he hadn't awakened Torres to help him investigate the unknown phenomenon on the bridge. At least he hadn't disturbed the captain or Commander Chakotay or Commander Tuvok.
"So. I guess it was nothing. Join me for a coffee?"
"Paris." The one word spoke volumes. "The next time Kim is acting captain and he wants to pursue...whatever...with Seven of Nine...."
Paris laughed. At her pointed look, he shrugged. "It was pretty funny."
"Good night, Paris."
"Night, Torres," he returned, a wistfulness infusing his tone. He watched her dark head bob down the corridor when the turbo lift reached her floor. Paris wondered about lost opportunities and three am restlessness and if the universe would reveal its secrets and if the replicator would deliver sunflower seeds if he asked for them.