ENCOUNTER

By Jemisard

Tom Paris ran his tricorder over the wrecked vehicle. It was a light fighter craft, armed with torpedoes, lasers and ion canons, Two flat wings stretched from the sleek body, another two resting on top. Tom looked at it. "I don’t recognize the design, Tuvok. It doesn’t match anything in our systems."

Harry clambered up onto the cockpit and peered in. "The top’s been blown off, probably an emergency eject. Whoever it was, they escaped. They were humanoid as well, the controls would suit us quite well."

Tom shrugged and followed Harry up. "If the wings were activated, they might look like an X when they separated. The engine was blown in an explosion of some kind." Tom climbed in and shifted, moving his hands onto the control shaft. "Primitive control style. It’s a sole pilot craft. There’s water, air, and," Tom pulled up a bar, "rations for some kind of life form similar to ours."

Harry coughed. "There’s blood here Tom."

Tom turned and looked. Sure enough, there was bright red blood splattered on the other side, heading into the forest. And a suspiciously human hand print on one of the wings.


Tom sat on the wings next to the hand print while Harry ran his tricorder over the reading. He paused thoughtfully and turned to Harry. "What is it?"

Harry frowned. "I’m not sure, but I think, I think it might be human. It has many of the hallmarks, but there isn’t enough to scan properly, its too dilute."

Tom stared. "It can’t be human Harry. There are no humans out here."

Harry shrugged. "It certainly looks human. Maybe its like those dinosaurs. A creature evolved from Earth long ago."

Tom pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Could be. I like the look of this ship. Its built for speed and agility. Not as good as the Delta, but nice."

Tuvok appeared with Chakotay on the other side of the clearing. "We have been unable to locate the ship’s occupant. The magnetic field of the planet is interfering with our sensors."

Tom hopped off the wing and walked around to the back of the craft, where he presumed the engine had once been. Scorch blasts marred the area, but it didn’t seem quite right. "Harry! Do these look like phaser marks to you?"

"A bit." He ran the tricorder over the area. "It indicates that some sort of compression charged gas hit it."

"A phaser of some kind?"

"Hmm. Yeah, I think so. I’d say this ship was under attack, and a lot of heavy fire at a guess."

Tom ran his hand over the cooling metal. "So, the pilot might think that we are the enemy. They came here because of the distortion it causes to sensors. The enemy wouldn¹t have been able to scan down here."

Tuvok raised his eyebrow in that very Vulcan way. "Possibly. We certainly don’t have enough information to hypothesize on the reasoning of the pilot."

Chakotay smiled wryly. "But it is the most logical reason for them coming here with that sort of damage. You wouldn’t land here if you were waiting for your men to pick you up."

A rustling noise came from the clearing edge. They all spun to it, phasers drawn. The bushes moved slightly, and Tom took off, following the footsteps he heard running away. He faintly heard Chakotay yelling at him, but ignored it, driven by a need to find the pilot of the amazing craft.

He spied a slim figure running ahead of him, amazingly quiet and lithe. They were limping badly, and Tom could see a splatter of blood falling from them now and then. Tom gained ground, and could now see the thick hair was blood stained and the flight suit was a uniform of some kind, a violent orange colour, slightly stressful on the eyes.

"Wait up! I don’t want to hurt you!"

The figure turned back and slowed slightly, unable to keep running any longer. Tom slowed to walking pace and held up his hands.

The figure was finally clear in the darker light of the forest. He was young and looked scared. Blood covered his face, and his left hand was pulped. A glove covered the other hand, which tightly clutched a slim silver cylinder. His eyes were wide with fear. He stared at Tom and swallowed, standing as straight as the pain would let him. He pushed the cylinder and a long green blade ignited. He poised ready to attack.

Tom gulped and stepped back. "Whoa, steady. I didn’t mean to scare you."

The other man’s resolve faltered. He lowered the blade slightly and trembled. Tom smiled softly and stepped forward a few paces. "We found your ship. It’s beyond repair."

The man turned off the blade and sunk to the ground. "I consider myself captured. Do not think I’ll tell you anything, I won’t."

Tom walked over and knelt down. The man’s blue eyes stared at him, echoing a pain so deep set that it had become a part of daily life. "We don’t want to capture you. I want to help you."

The man’s injuries were very severe judging by the blood loss. Tom took the mangled hand gently in his own, wincing at the sharp hiss the sudden intake of breath caused. "Sorry."

"Tom!" Harry and Chakotay burst into sight. The man stiffened and threw his gloved hand out in panic.

Harry and Chakotay stumbled slightly. Tom lay his hand on the gloved one. "They’re with me. They won’t hurt you."

"I, I’m sorry, I,"

"Shh." Tom wrapped his arm around the younger man, who winced slightly when the contact was made. Tom looked at Chakotay. "Sir, we should beam him up."

"Agreed. We can question him once he’s healed up."

Tom nodded. "Paris to Voyager. Lock onto my badge signal. Two to beam up."

"We read you Tom."

By the time they reached the transporter pads, the man was unconscious, and looking like he was staying that way for a while.

*

The Doctor ran his tricorder over the battered form. "Lacerations to the skull, face, neck, hands and lower arms. His left hand has multiple fractures in it, and is badly mangled. He has received several blows to the head and is dehydrated. His skull is fractured, and there indications of spinal damage." The Doctor paused and looked up at Captain. "Also, his right hand is artificial from the mid forearm which would indicate a highly advanced society. By all rights, this man should be dead, yet some of his wounds already show indications that they are healing by themselves."

Janeway frowned into her fist. "A natural feature of his race?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No Captain. This man is just that. He’s human, or close enough to pass for one."

Janeway¹s head flew up. "Human? How’s that possible?"

The Doctor shrugged. "It isn’t, but that’s how it remains. This man is from a human ancestry. There are slight variations, but he is essentially one of you."

Tom looked over from his administrations. "Doctor, shouldn’t you fix him now and talk about him later when we know he’ll live?"

The Doctor grimaced. "Unfortunately, Mr Paris is correct. I have to ask you to leave now Captain.

Janeway nodded and left. The Doctor turned to Tom. "Get him out of those clothes and into hospital garb once we fix him."

"Aye sir." Tom drawled. This was going to one of those missions.

*

It had taken Tom an hour to clean up and dress their visitor. The hair he had assumed was brown was actually a dark blonde, and his skin had the look of one who had been tanned and then stopped working outside. He had tried not to look too hard, but the flat planes of his body and muscular, yet lithe, limbs begged to be admired.

Tom now sat next to sleeping man. He was watching his face in fascination. He was human. Out in the Delta quadrant, they had finally found another human.

Old scars were faint on the youthful face. Tom had first thought the man to be little out of his teens, but a closer look would indicate that he was actually older than that. Tom guessed he was twenty two or so.

The only disturbing thing was that hand. It was charred and blackened, exposing circuits and pistons inside the hand itself. It looked so life like, felt so real, yet the gleaming insides was a continual reminder that it wasn’t.

He heard a faint mumble from the pillow. Glancing up, Tom realized that he was waking slowly. "Hey. You feel okay?"

Large blue eyes blinked open and shut again. Trying harder to keep them open, the man peered at Tom and smiled wryly. "You were real."

"Yeah, I’m real. How are you feeling now?"

"Better. Much better." He struggled to sit up just as the Doctor hurried out of his office. "No, I don’t think so young man. You need to stay right there."

He smiled softly and sank back into the mattress. "You’re not human, but not droid."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "I’m an isotropic projection. A hologram."

"Ahh." he closed his eyes softly. "I understand now."

Tom leant forward and lay his hand on the man’s shoulder. "You have a name? I’m Tom Paris. This is the Doctor."

"Luke," he murmured. "Commander Luke Skywalker, of the Rebel Alliance."


End part one