New: Twentieth Century Boy Author: ZorroRojo - zorrorojo@slashcity.com Series: X-Over Voyager/X-Files/Highlander Part: 2/16 Rating: R? Codes: C/P Archive: Anywhere Disclaimer: yadda yadda yadda blah blah blah - not mine. Summary: I don't want to give one. Warnings: Non-Graphic Slash - Cussing -  a little violence (not anything worse than what you see on American TV. ********** Tom regained consciousness facedown over his panel. It took him a moment to realize he had been unconscious, not asleep. The hardness of his pilot's station rather than the expected softness of his pillow was what finally jarred him into wakefulness. He sat up slowly, making sure all the important parts were still attached. Head sitting atop neck? Yup. He moved on to his arms and legs -- still attached to his body, then wondered what he had to drink. Or what shuttle hit him. Shuttle. He was in the Delta Flyer. What was he doing here? Passengers. Oh shit! He tried to jump out of his seat, but couldn't quite make it. Medkit. Where was the medkit? Realizing his head was still attached to his neck but his brain was scrambled inside, he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. Slow. Steady. In. Out. Over and over. OK, he was in the Delta Flyer. He'd obviously had some sort of accident. He wasn't alone. Open one eye. Tuvok. Hmmm, green blood makes a pretty pattern when splattered all over a gray bulkhead. Close the eye. Other senses? What were those? Someone was calling his name. "Tom? Tom? Are you all right? Nod if you can hear me?" Gerron, the voice belonged to Gerron. Tom nodded. "Good. Someone's conscious. Can you get to Tuvok? I'm trapped, I think both my legs are broken." Tom managed to groan out an "Ahhh..." "Tom? Are you hurt?" There was that voice again. What did it want? "Huh?" "Tom?" A more familiar voice this time. Soft, brown skin and a tattoo. Whispered endearments, soft touches. Name to voice. Chakotay. "Ok. I think. Wha - what hap - happened?" "Are you in one piece?" Close the eye and lean back. "I th think so. My blood isn't green is it?" "Can you get to Tuvok?" "Tuvok?" "Gerron, see if you can get to them. I'm stuck." Tom listened to the voices for a while longer until the fuzz began to clear from his brain. Delta Flyer, Chakotay, Gerron, Tuvok. It all came back and he stifled a groan. He'd crashed the Flyer. Again. What was this? Four times now? "Cha?" "Hold on Tom, we're almost out back here. Keep talking to me." "I'm all right. My brain isn't working." "I felt the same way when I came to. Just sit still and everything will work again. Gerron, see if you can reach something to use as a lever." "Where are we?" "I don't know. Can you see Tuvok?" Tom opened his left eye again. It seemed to be the only one that would open. "There's a lot of blood. He's not moving but he's breathing." "Good. Vulcans are pretty tough. Ok, Gerron, on three." Tom listened as the two officers in the rear port section cleared the debris off themselves and he watched Tuvok. He found himself matching his breaths with the Commander's. In. Out. In. Out. Something was wrong. "Cha?" "Hold on, we're almost out." "I can't breathe... I mean, I can breathe, but I don't feel like I'm breathing." "Tom, I need you to examine yourself. Can you do that? I'm free, but I can't get to you just yet. Pretend your brain is the Holodoc and your body is the patient. Can you do that?" "Uhm, Ok?" but he couldn't figure out why it was important, or why Chakotay's voice was getting softer but his tone was that of someone shouting. He raised his right hand and brought it to the side of his head. He could feel his hand, but not his head. He pulled it up to his face, to the one eye that would open and it was covered in red blood. And skin. And something soft. "My head's cracked open," he reported to the voice. "Be more specific." Tom was dimly aware of crashing around him and Tuvok moving around. What was he supposed to be doing? Medical assessment, that's right. He brought his bloody hand to his chest and felt around. Nothing broken. No more blood. Maybe. What was that? "Tom? We're almost there." "Commander?" "Tuvok, you're conscious. Can you move? Can you see Tom?" Why did Cha sound so worried? It was nice and warm here, and not too much noise, and no pain. Tom tried to find his voice, tried to tell Chakotay to relax, tried to see Tuvok, but the other eye wasn't working now either. "I am fine Commander," he heard Tuvok insist. Tuvok was leaving? He sounded so far away and getting farther every moment. They weren't going to leave him in the shuttle, were they? Tuvok's voice intruded again. Tom only wanted to go back to sleep. "Commander. Lt. Paris is pinned to his chair." "Did the bulkhead fall on him?" "No Commander. He has been pierced through the abdomen by a support beam." "Tom?" Chakotay was shouting in that soft voice again. What did he want now? Tom knew he wasn't on duty today. He was on vacation Dammit! He'd do what he always did when Chakotay tried to wake him up before he was ready. He'd pretend he was sleeping. Or maybe he'd go back to sleep. Yeah. What the hell, who was shining that damn light in his face? "We've got to get him out of there." "Chakotay..." why was Tuvok being so nice? Tuvok always sounded so cold - especially to Chakotay. "We must assess his condition before we try to move him. Crewman Gerron, find the emergency medkit." "Are the sensors online?" Chakotay's voice floated from somewhere just over his head. Tom was sure Chakotay was inside his head he was so close. Or was it that his brain was open? "I am attempting to access them now." "Where are we?" "Sensors online. We're underneath the surface of a planet." "What planet?" "I do not know." "How far underground?" "Five meters." "Good, we can dig our way out." Tom knew he was dying. Poor Chakotay. "Cha?" Tom called, but what came out was a strangled gurgle followed by a stream of vomited blood. The last thing Tom heard was Chakotay's shout of "Gerron! Get that med kit over here!" ********** Scully stepped into the empty bar and immediately spotted her partner. Women surrounded him. Well, three could be hardly called surrounded, but when the only three other patrons in the bar had him encircled, it couldn't really be called anything else. And the look on his face was priceless. He nodded to her when he spotted her, the pleading expression easily translated. Scully sighed and sat at the other end of the round bar. The bartender, a short guy with long scraggly blond hair and a beard, served her a coke, flashing her a big toothy grin as he poured it out of the can. She was momentarily surprised that he actually had teeth, and then chastised herself for jumping to conclusions. Interesting place, this bar. The only restaurant or bar in a fifty square mile area. You could probably learn everything you needed to know right here. Scully sipped her drink and watched Mulder try to extricate himself from the trio of women. An interesting trio at that. One short, one tall, one in between. One fat, one skinny, one in between. One pretty, one decidedly not, and one non-descript. One over sixty, one barely out of her teens and one in that age where it's hard to tell. She could be anywhere from twenty-five to forty. The skinny, young, medium height, beautiful brunette situated herself half in and half out of Mulder's chair. She was used to keeping a man's intention. Even if he didn't want to give it. Mulder pleaded with those effective puppy dog eyes again and Scully almost went to help him. But a group of men came in the door and she knew immediately that she would be better off trying to gather information without her partner at her side. The men weren't quite so varied in their appearance. In fact, they could have been pod people. If you didn't look to closely. Down to the last man they were dressed in cut-offs or old shorts, dirty, worn or outright torn T-shirts, sandals and not a one of them looked as if he had made the acquaintance of a barber in months. Except for the two with shaved heads. The smell caught up with them as they settled into the seats surrounding Scully. When she looked closely, her trained eye was able to spot the differences. "Hi, I'm Mike," the cleanest, neatest one stuck out his hand. Hmm, and nice looking under all the dirt, as well, Scully decided. "Dana," she answered as she shook his hand. He snatched his beer from the bartender and took a long draught, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry about the way we smell. We just came off a seven-day in the lower canyons. Haven't had a chance to shower yet, we still have to unload our gear." Scully stared at him blankly. She knew what these men were, but playing the clueless female, especially with men like these, would give her a lot more answers than the direct question route. "We're raft guides." "Oh," she answered. As the men around her jostled for positions at the bar, she realized just how out of place she and Mulder looked. His clean, unworn jeans and clean white T-shirt and her linen shorts and silk shirt screamed outsider louder than if they were wearing neon signs. Not to mention their shoes. Mulder was right. "So Dana, where are you from?" Of course that would be his question. It was a standard greeting for small towns where tourists made up most of the population. She would play tourist for him. He seemed like a man who liked to talk. She gave Mulder one last look, there were now five women talking to him, and she turned her attention back to the raft guides. They would know of anything out of the ordinary in the area. Even if they had been on the river for a week. *** Scully stepped out of the smoky bar and onto the broad, flagstone porch that ran the length of the building. The first three women Mulder had spoken to were onstage performing and the music blared into the dark night through the closed doors. Mulder was leaning against the wooden railing, waiting for her. The other end of the porch held an assortment of locals, their dogs and their guitars. And more liquor. "Did you learn anything?" he asked immediately. She leaned on the railing and answered, "I learned that these people can hold their liquor. You?" "Do the words fresh meat mean anything to you?" Scully laughed at her partner and asked, "What do you think?" "There's definitely something going on around here. Except these people are convinced it's a government conspiracy, something to do with the millennia, evil spirits, heat visions, toxic waste or drug runners." "So no one mentioned little green men?" "Not a one. And no black ooze either. No sign of our anonymous tipster. The closest I could get was strange lights over by the Sierra del Carmen. But that's almost a hundred miles away with nothing between here and there but desert. "The guys I talked to were down that way for the past week. Let me see if I can find out more, Ok?" Scully wiped the sweat from her brow and turned her attention to the group on the porch. It looked like the older folks hung out outside, but the dynamics were hard to spot. Outsider didn't even begin to cover how she felt. "At least it's under 100. According to Danielle, it's the first time in three weeks it's gone under 100, even after dark." "Danielle?" "The woman bartender. The weather was the only thing I've found out that was interesting. You know, if it rains tonight, it will be the first time in ten years that it has rained in the month of August. Interesting, wouldn't you say?" "Very." Lightning lit up the mountains in the distance as Scully thought about weather patterns, drunk locals, black oil, aliens intent on colonizing Earth, and her partner. Throw in almost twenty-four hours of travel time just getting here, the two drinks stronger than soda she'd consumed, and she needed a break. "I'm going to sit out here for awhile." "You all right, Scully?" "I'm fine. Just thinking. What if the information from our anonymous friend is actually accurate? What are we supposed to do about it, Mulder?" "Word from the locals is that there's a secret military base about fifty miles west of here. We can call them. Remember the kid that was shot by an army ranger while he herded his goats three years ago?" When Scully nodded, Mulder shared the rest of his information. "The bartender says they're still here. An entire battalion." "So. They're watching the border for drug runners and illegals." "We're chasing illegal aliens too, Scully," Mulder teased. Scully ignored his proclamation and continued to stare off into the distance where the natural light show lit up the far off mountains. "How much longer do you want to stay?" "Let's stay for the lightning storm, then go. It looks like it's intensifying. We begin our search in the morning. I think I got us a helicopter." "How did you manage that one?" "Skinner." "I'll have to thank him. I wasn't looking forward to searching by jeep or horseback." End Part 2