TITLE: Fortunate Voyager
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Please ask.
CONTINUITY: Set in the middle of season 3 of Enterprise and several
months after the events of X2. This story is an AU for the remainder of
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount, and the
X-Men characters and universe belong to Twentieth Century Fox, Marvel,
and many other people with expensive lawyers, not me.
NOTES: This fic has been a long time coming and there a great many
people to blame...I mean thank. ::deep breath:: Unanon put up a
crossover challenge, which made me write an X-Men/Ent drabble. Then
Medie and Unanon said squee (multiple times) and Minisinoo fed the bunny
a bag of industrial strength plot bunny chow. Daria, Ozchick, and
*especially* Stexgirl provided helpful comments on a partial draft, and
Kathy Rose gave me Enterprise episode help. The final beta was by
Stexgirl, Akire, and Illmantrim. This fic would be much less coherent
without all of their assistance. Lastly, I've stolen a few names from
the Treksoap RPG. Just because.
* * * * *
"...the best that we find in our travels is an honest friend. He is a
fortunate voyager who finds many. We travel, indeed, to find them. They
are the end and the reward of life."
-- Robert Louis Stevenson, from Travels with a Donkey in the Cevenne
Doubled over in pain, as exhausted as if he'd run a marathon, it took
Scott several long moments to focus on his surroundings. His head was
ringing and throbbing, but there were voices. He couldn't remember
exactly why, but he knew he had to focus.
"Who are you and what are you doing on my ship?" someone behind him asked.
Another voice, someone standing right in front of him, was yelling
"Security to the bridge" in an educated British accent.
Logan, trying to sound conciliatory. "I don't know how we got here.
Where are we? Who the hell are *you*?"
Scott checked his glasses were on his face and undamaged. It seemed safe
to open his eyes, so he did, but that didn't help his confusion. Instead
of the suburban park he remembered, he was in some kind of monochromatic
control center, standing a step below a bank of machinery. A uniformed
man, his chiseled features tightened into a scowl, leaned over the
machinery to point a weapon at him.
"Don't move," said the man with a British accent, the weapon unwavering
in a hand that didn't look likely to miss at this distance.
"We won't," Scott said. "X-Men, stand down."
"I said, stand *down*!"
Behind him, Scott heard the distinctive sound of Logan's claws
retracting and the man in front of him looked shocked, his eyes widening
for a moment.
Vision clearing further, Scott risked a glance around. What kind of
uniforms were these people wearing? He didn't want to be in another
military facility. To his left was some kind of giant television screen
and to the right, banks of equipment along the walls.
"Who are you?" the voice behind him repeated.
"Answer the captain," the man in front of him said.
"Can I turn around?" Scott asked.
"Yes," the voice behind him said, sounding amused.
Slowly turning, Scott saw the shocked faces of various uniformed people
and his own team: Logan just behind him standing next to a black man
sitting at a console, Kitty and Bobby behind Logan, beyond them an Asian
woman seated in the far corner.
Near the rear of the room there was a blond man with another weapon,
aimed at Kitty and Bobby, and a man who walked toward him, standing in
front of a seat in the center of the room--obviously the captain. Scott
sighed with relief at seeing the students: Kitty and Bobby looked
frightened but uninjured.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and in the same blue uniform as the others, the
captain had a look of good humor, even in this tense situation. He was
no Stryker, Scott decided, relaxing a fraction.
"I'm Captain Jonathan Archer of the Enterprise," the captain said,
sitting down in his chair, fingers tapping on the chair's arm his only
sign of impatience or tension. "And you are?"
Scott paused. "I'm not quite sure how to answer. Can I ask if we're on a
submarine? Is this a Navy ship?"
Archer exchanged a look with the blond man, who'd come to stand next to
him. "Submarine?" he asked. "Are you trying to say you don't know you're
Logan stiffened and stared around him, and Kitty and Bobby gasped.
Scott's jaw dropped and he found himself at a loss for words. The
television screen...he risked a glance behind him and found the screen
was filled with tiny dots. Stars. He turned back, unable to form a
Archer's mouth twitched in a slight smile. "I take it that's a yes." He
sobered again. "But that's irrelevant. You still haven't told me who you
are or how you got here. And my armory officer is itching to shoot you
for appearing and scaring us like that."
Archer went on. "Enterprise isn't near any planets and we haven't seen a
sign of any other ships in days, so I'm curious where you came from,
especially without realizing you were in space."
Scott cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. Starting out
with 'Hi, we're the X-Men and we're dangerous mutants, please arrest
us,' might not be for the best.
"My name is Scott Summers. I'm a teacher at the Xavier School for Gifted
Youngsters and I have absolutely no idea how we got here. The last thing
I remember," he paused, "we were meeting with a prospective student and
someone attacked us." He frowned. "I think."
Logan started to say something, but was interrupted by a whooshing
sound, which heralded an opening door behind Archer, allowing two men
and a woman in the same uniforms and carrying guns to run into the room.
They fanned out, looking deadly serious, and aimed their weapons at the
X-Men. The blond-haired man shrugged and lowered his weapon.
Archer glanced at the new arrivals. "Everything is under control at the
moment." When none of them showed any signs of relaxing, he turned back
to Scott, seemingly content to wait all day for an explanation.
Scott sighed, considering the fact that everyone in the room had seen
Logan's claws. "Look, I'm sure it's no shock to you that we're mutants,
but we aren't here to attack you." He braced himself for the inevitable
Archer's brow wrinkled. "Mutants? I'm not following you."
Scott spoke before Logan could say something stupid. "Mutants. The ones
Senator Kelly was trying to register? Mutants."
More confusion on all the unfamiliar faces. "Senator Kelly? Should we
know who that is?" the blond man asked, his accent as warm and
comfortingly southern as Rogue's.
Archer shook his head. "I don't understand."
Scott stared at his team for a moment, then looked around him at people
who had no idea who Senator Kelly was. Outer space. An unfamiliar ship
configuration. Voice cracking, he asked, "What year is it?"
Archer considered him for a long moment. "2153," he said finally.
Logan summed the situation up with his usual flair: "Well, fuck."
* * * * *
It took some time to quiet the room, but Archer managed it, pinning
Scott with a stare. "What year do *you* think it is?"
"Let's just say the number two at the beginning is only a few years old
The blond man grinned suddenly. "Geez, I can't wait to hear what T'Pol
has to say about this."
"Trip..." Archer said.
"Yes, Cap'n." Trip didn't look abashed or all that frightened and Scott
tried to decide if he was accustomed to people appearing on the ship or
didn't see any danger in them.
Archer's eyes narrowed. "Wait, early 21st century?"
There was a strangled noise from behind him and the captain looked over
Scott's shoulder. "Lieutenant?"
"Mutations, sir? From *that* time?"
Scott tensed. Just when things were going so well. He glanced over his
shoulder. The lieutenant had gone from looking pissed to looking
downright hostile, which was definitely not a good sign. He turned back
"I was getting to that, Malcolm." Archer looked at Scott, mouth tight
now. "Are you followers of Khan Noonien Singh?"
The hairs on his arms stood up at the sudden increase in tension, and he
knew this was a momentous question. But...
"Who?" he asked.
Everyone stared at him. "You really mean that," Archer said, eyes wide.
It wasn't a question, but Scott answered anyway. "I do. We don't follow
him because we have no idea who he is. Or was."
"How can you not know Khan?" Trip asked.
"How can you not know Senator Kelly? Are you sure you haven't heard of
the Mutant Registration Act? Magneto?" More blank stares and Scott's
head throbbed harder. "You *have* to know who he is. He was already
making the history textbooks this fall."
Archer shook his head. "I'm not especially expert in the Eugenics War
"Eugenics War?" Kitty flushed when everyone looked at her, but stood her
ground. "I'm sorry. I just..."
"What were you going to say?" Archer asked. Scott mentally thanked him
for the gentle tone.
"Well," Her face was still red, but embarrassment was fading back to
fear, and she looked to Scott for reassurance. When he nodded, she went
on in a tiny voice. "Does...does that mean all the mutants are dead? Did
you kill everybody?"
Trip looked away. "I'm sorry, kid. It's...it was complicated."
"Wait." Archer shook his head. "This doesn't make sense. The war took
place in the 1990s, so you'd have to know who Khan was. He set off
nuclear weapons, tried to destroy the planet. Either you're lying--"
"Or it's some alternate universe," the black man standing next to Logan
"What?" Almost everyone asked the question, but the man responded to Archer.
"Well, sir, there have always been theories of alternate universes, time
as a branching tree. Perhaps we're in a future where things turned out
"It would explain things," Archer said. "An intriguing suggestion, Travis."
"If they're telling the truth," the lieutenant from security said behind
them. Scott could sympathize with the anguish of a security officer who
saw security going to hell in a handbasket, but he'd like to be believed.
Archer sighed, looking over the X-Men. Scott tried to look harmless,
which was easier than normal, because he felt like a wet dishrag.
Whatever had happened to them, he was worn out. Hopefully the kids
didn't feel this bad.
Archer's eyes rested on Logan, and Scott groaned internally. Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw Logan shifting uneasily, hands flexing.
Archer looked at the so-far silent Asian woman in the corner. "Hoshi,
get T'Pol up here as soon as possible and see if you can get Admiral
Forrest on the line. Meanwhile," he looked at the security guards, "take
them to the brig." Looking back at Scott, he said, "You won't be harmed,
but you understand I can't have you wandering around my ship until I
know what's going on."
Nodding, Scott could only agree with the caution. "I understand. But let
me assure you we mean you no harm and we came here accidentally."
Scott caught Logan's eyes, willing the man to stay calm. Weapons still
pointed at him, he moved slowly forward, putting a hand on Bobby's
shoulder and squeezing. Kitty was starting to look scared, so Scott
patted her back. "C'mon, Kitty. Have you ever been in a brig before? The
Professor *has* been saying we need to broaden the students' horizons."
Kitty giggled, as did Hoshi behind her. Hand still on Kitty's back,
Scott followed the security guards.
* * * * *
Since the elevator wasn't big enough for all of them *and* security,
Kitty and Scott went down first. The brig wasn't very large either, so
Scott let her sit on the bunk, while he propped himself against the
wall. His legs were starting to shake, but he stared fixedly through the
mesh wall at the door until Logan and Bobby were led through.
When the door shut behind the rest of his team, Scott took a deep breath
and tried to push away from the wall. To his surprise, his legs gave out
and he missed hitting the floor only because Logan caught him. "Shit,
Cyke, what's wrong?"
Trembling, Scott managed to push Logan away and stagger to the bunk,
sitting next to Kitty. He looked at the others. "The trip didn't affect
any of you this way?"
They shook their heads. "No," Bobby said. "I got a little dizzy, but
that went away almost immediately."
"Mr. Summers, are we really in an alternate future?" Kitty had her arms
wrapped around her stomach.
"I think so."
"If it's a trick," Logan said, "it's damn good. This place, it smells
different, it sounds wrong, there's this *humming* that's driving me
crazy. It's like a motorcycle engine in the back of my head. It doesn't
sound like any plane or boat I've been on."
Scott really looked at Logan for the first time since they'd arrived,
noting the tension in his muscles and the way his eyes were constantly
shifting. Damn it, he thought, I never considered what a shock this
might be to someone with enhanced senses.
"I don't think it's a trick," he said aloud. "What else can you tell me?"
Frowning, Logan considered the question. "They've got a lot of guns, but
most don't seem particularly aggressive. Except for during the confusion
about that Khan guy. Nobody reacted when you said mutants, but when they
thought we were with Khan, they were frightened."
"Huh." Scott blinked, trying to marshal fuzzy thoughts. "For the moment,
let's try not to volunteer any...excess information about how gifted we
are, hmm?" He wished for a telepath, so he wouldn't have to be so
Kitty and Bobby nodded and he had to be content with that. Logan started
to pace back and forth, which made Scott dizzy, so he closed his eyes.
Scott sighed, wondering what the guards would do if they knew Bobby
could cause many common materials to freeze and crack, Scott's eyes
could blast a hole through most things, Logan's claws could cut through
almost anything...and if all else failed, Kitty could walk them through
anything else. The only thing keeping them in this place was his desire
to do things the easy way. Just once.
* * * * *
Jon stood in the command center, staring at a display from the Xindi
database without really seeing it, as the bridge crew trickled in. T'Pol
was first, possibly annoyed at missing the grand arrival. At least
that's what he thought it meant when he got "Captain" as a greeting from
his first officer and she headed straight for a console to bring up all
the data they had.
Hoshi and Travis came in together, both ensigns still looking startled
by the whole thing. "Captain," Hoshi said, "I've left Baird trying to
track down Admiral Forrest, but the signal is very weak. I'm not certain
your initial report even made it through intact."
"Great." He shook his head in annoyance. Just when he *wanted*
Starfleet's input, they were out of reach.
Trip strode in and went to look over T'Pol's shoulder. He glanced at
Jon. "Oh, Phlox is fixing up Foster, who managed to hurt himself in the
gym when an anomaly buckled the floor under him."
"We'll get started when Malcolm gets here, then."
Right on cue, the door opened and Malcolm stalked in, lips tight. "I've
got the brig under constant surveillance, sir, but I'd like to get back
as soon as possible. If they can appear and disappear, who knows what
they might do."
"What do you think of their story?" Jon asked, avoiding Malcolm's eye.
T'Pol opened her mouth, but he beat her to it. "Don't say it."
"Say what, Captain?" She asked with her best bland Vulcan stare.
"About the Vulcan Science Directorate and time travel."
"In fact, I was about to say that the Vulcan Science Directorate has
never proven the existence of other dimensions or alternate realities
"Thank you, Sub-commander, I think we get the idea." Jon stared at her,
trying to decide if she was amused or annoyed, but gave it up as a
"I find it all highly improbable," Malcolm said. "It concerns me that we
have no way to check their story. If they're from a different reality,
we can't check Earth records."
Frowning, Jon leaned against the console. "That's true."
"They brought kids, Cap'n," Trip threw in. "How many assault teams
include scared teenagers?"
Malcolm looked unconvinced. "One of them had claws in his hands, like
the Suliban enhancements. Perhaps they only *look* like frightened
Trip threw his hands in the air. "What? You think they're midget Xindi
soldiers with really good plastic surgery?"
"We don't know, Commander. We've been fooled before."
"I think they're telling the truth, Captain." Travis looked a little
nervous to interrupt the senior officers squabbling, but the pilot was firm.
"I do too, sir," Hoshi added. "Their body language says they're confused
and worried, not belligerent. Besides, if they wanted to attack us, why
didn't they just do it?"
Jon tapped his fingers on the console. "They might be spies, not troops."
"So now they're midget Xindi *spies*?" Trip rolled his eyes. "Look, I
don't know if they're telling the truth, but if they're trying to spy,
that was the most inept approach I've ever seen."
T'Pol spoke up. "I believe the proper course of action would be to have
Dr. Phlox examine them. He can certainly determine if they are human."
"Thank you, that's the most sensible thing anyone has said. Malcolm,
arrange for Phlox to take a look at them."
"T'Pol, you and Trip take a look at the readings from their arrival. See
if you can pinpoint how they got here. We'll meet again when we have
data, not speculation."
Everyone scattered, leaving Jon staring at the display, thoughts in a whirl.
What was going on? Was this some new attack from the Xindi? Or yet
another salvo in the damn Temporal Cold War that seemed mainly to be
dedicated to driving him insane?
Good lord, what could possibly be the benefit in taking four people from
an alternate past (if they could be believed) and dumping them on the
ship? Other than distracting Enterprise from its mission to save the
Earth, of course.
Where the hell was Daniels when he needed him? Jon thought, wishing the
former steward--and time traveler--would show up. Even one of his
typically confusing explanations would be welcome at this moment.
Of course, things would be greatly simplified if the intruders were
lying. Malcolm was right, they'd certainly been fooled before. He
thought with a pang of embarrassment and sadness of Raijin, her beauty
and duplicity. And they'd also been attacked plenty of times. Jon
remembered the pirate they'd captured months before, his boiling rage at
the alien. How he'd come close to suffocating him in an airlock.
Jon shivered. Maybe things *wouldn't* be simpler if they were lying.
* * * * *
When the door to the brig shussed open, Scott's eyes were still shut, as
he attempted to still the trembling that seemed to be getting worse.
A moment later, gasps from Kitty and Bobby and the sound of Logan moving
got his attention and he opened his eyes. The face peering through the
mesh of the prison was nightmarish and wrong, the skin color no shade
he'd ever seen on a human, pulled in all the wrong directions.
Scott fought an instinctive desire to climb up on the bunk and pull his
knees to his chest. This person had to be a mutant or a shapeshifter
like Mystique. But then why didn't they know what mutants were, except
in reference to this mysterious Eugenics War?
"Hello," the apparition said, "my name is Dr. Phlox, the chief medical
officer of this vessel. Lieutenant Reed says you claim to be from the
past, so I assume you have never seen a Denobulan before."
"A what?" Bobby asked.
"A Denobulan. From the planet Denobula."
"The planet..." Kitty sounded like she'd stopped breathing. "You mean
"Not human? Quite correct, young lady." He beamed at her, a smile so big
it looked as if his face should split open. "Now, the captain has asked
me to examine you to see if we can verify what you said." Turning to the
security guard behind him, he gestured at the door. "Please let me in. I
certainly can't do anything from out here."
The guard frowned, but unlocked the door, eyeing them suspiciously the
The Denobulan, Phlox, seemed to understand their unease and he moved
slowly, stopping just inside the door so it could be locked behind him.
Logan's nose twitched and he growled once, low in his chest, stepping
between the alien and the students. Scott thought about intervening, but
decided to let it play out. If Logan's instincts said there was trouble,
he wanted to know why.
Phlox stood still. "I will not harm you. I would like to run some scans
and draw blood to test your DNA."
Fascinated, Kitty and Bobby peered around Logan. "Not the kids," Logan
said, voice low. "No tests."
Phlox leaned his head to one side. "I will need to scan them, but we can
skip the blood for the moment. May I ask what is wrong?"
"You smell wrong," Logan said, not taking his eyes off him.
Ah, Scott thought, that made sense. "It's okay, Logan, he told us he's
"We're going to have to trust them if we want to get out of this. We're
in space. Were you planning to fly us back to Earth?" It took all his
strength to get the last sentence out, the trembling grown worse, almost
"Mr. Summers?" Kitty's voice was higher than normal, and he managed to
drag his head around to look at her, but the effort made his head swim.
Everything was grayer than it was supposed to be, and his vision
narrowed into a tunnel. Scott tried to say something, but couldn't find
the words or make his mouth form the right shapes. It was curiously like
drowning, struggling to breathe or move.
"Don't touch him!" Logan's growl was now a roar, cutting through the fog.
"This man needs medical attention!" The doctor's good humor had given
way to anger of his own. "You must allow me to examine him."
"Did you do something to him?"
Scott could feel he was lying on the bunk, but couldn't control his body
as it shook.
"How could I?"
"Logan, Mr. Summers was feeling bad already, remember?"
Good, Bobby, very good.
"Okay. Help him. Just don't touch the glasses unless you want a hole in
Cool hands held Scott in place, the voice of the alien doctor shouted
for assistance. It was too much effort to keep concentrating and Scott
let go, sinking into the fog.
--continued in part 2--