"Star date 50255.6, Friday the 13th" (Jason vs ST
Posted: 2003-08-21 03:13am
This is part one of my two part fanfic that I've long been thinking about writting. Watching Jason X again the other night renewed my desire to bring it to life. Now I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writting it thus far...
(as a note, I'm surely no expert on any of the ST series, as it is I've seen handfuls of TNG and VOY episodes. I had some help in a friend, and with the info listed on this very site. If there are mistakes, pleasure forgive me. Some of them are intentional, done in jest or bastardization of what is alread self-bastardized.)
Warning: Intense violence!
“Captain’s log, Star date 50255.6…Voyager has come into the relatively empty system of Tal’Eth. A single planet and it’s twin moons occupy this system, but the nearest star is no less than 20 light years away. The may have once been long ago occupied, but now appears nothing but a desolate sphere in space.”
Harry Kim strode down the hallway to Astrometrics, walking through the door that opened with a slight hiss. Inside, Seven of Nine was bent over a computer console, deep in study of the star charts as usual. Kim strode up to her, donning his usual smile. Seven hardly raised her eyes for more than a second to acknowledge his presence.
“Yes?” she asked somewhat flatly, as was her typical nature.
“Seven, do you know what today’s date is, according to my chronometer set to Earth-time?”
Seven of Nine keyed in a few short commands into her terminal, then turned to Harry, reciting a string of emotionless data.
“Yes…that’s correct, but the date, in general? It’s Friday the 13th, Seven.”
“I fail to see the relevance.” Seven responded, returning her eyes to her duties.
“It’s an old Earth suppersition.” Harry began, leaning against the console. “It’s always been somewhat of a legend that Friday the 13th is a bad-luck day for everyone…”
“And do you believe in this…superstition, Ensign Kim?
Harry shrugged. “Only halfheartedly. Just be careful of any stray black cats, Seven.”
“I shall keep my eyes pealed…” Seven replied.
“Preliminary scans of the planet finished, Captain.” Tom Paris said. “Just one big dust ball.”
“I am attempting to filter through the dust in the atmosphere for a second sweep.” Tuvok announced, keying his console at the Tactical Ops position. “But I am relatively sure that this planet is free of any deuterium signatures.”
“We have to be certain.” Janeway replied, crossing her legs while sitting in her command chair.
“Captain…I think I’ve found something. It’s a heavy energy signature, but it’s not deuterium. I’m getting metal signatures. I think it might be a downed ship of some sort…” Kim said, a bit of excitement in his voice.
Janeway turned to face her second in command. Chakotay was regarding her as well, as if both weighing in silent questions to one another.
“You know what to do, Chakotay. Take an away team down to look into it. And be careful…”
Chakotay nodded, rising to his feet and striding off the bridge.
Lt. Tuvok, Seven of Nine, Lt. Paris, Chakotay and three security officers stood alongside the battered and broken hull of a long-rusted space-freighter. Tuvok and Seven instantly took out tricorders, scanning the ship for the energy signs they had received onboard Voyager. Paris stood a wary step forward, nearing a gaping hole in the ship’s hull that stood open like the rusted maw of a great beast. Tuvok, Chakotay and Seven followed closely behind, with the security officers keeping on hand on their phasers at all times.
“I’m reading no life signs. The decay rate of the metal in the hull of the ship suggests that it has been here for 10 years.” Tuvok announced.
Paris stepped through the opening and was at once standing in what remained of the ships cargo hold. Paris activated a field light and swept the beam around, gazing at the ship’s rusted innards.
“’Fraid there’s not much left here, Captain.” Paris announced after activating his comm..
“Keep looking. We need to locate that power source.” She replied.
Seven of Nine had crossed in front of him, walking to an apparently broken terminal mounted on one of the walls. She swept her tricorder over it, and a slight frown creased her lips. The energy source was surely not coming from the ship itself, but rather something nearby.
“There is no power left in the ship’s core.” She announced, and then swept her tricorder in a new direction, refining the scanning parameters as she did. At once she picked up a stronger reading, not far away from Lt. Paris’ position, and headed in that direction.
A pile of debris stood not 5 feet away from Paris, covering a long section of the cargo hold’s floor with long, blade-like pieces of sheet metal. Seven focused her tricorder on the pile, joined by Tuvok.
“The readings are coming from beneath this debris.” He announced. “Shall we attempt to move it?”
“Be cautious” Janeway replied from the safety of her command chair.
“Understood, Captain.” Chakotay replied.
Paris, Tuvok, and Seven began to try and lift away the panels with their combined effort. One of the three security officers joined the effort, while the other two remained ready to cover them should anything go wrong. Within minutes, the group had moved away all the small pieces, and manage to muscle the largest aside to get a look at what was giving off the high energy signature.
“It’s a very old cryogenics contaniner.” Paris announced. “Someone’s in there, too.”
Tom stopped down to the side of the unit, brushing away layers of dust from the face. There was an engraved plate mounted beneath the control panels. Tom’s fingers found the groves, began wiping aside the dust that obscured them. His eyes squinted, trying to get a better look at the figures, as Tuvok added his field light’s beam to Paris’.
“Vorhees.” Tom announced. “Whatever that means.”
“The subject is in perfect cryogenic hibernation…if you disclude the fact that he is apparently dead.” Seven announced after a brief sweep of her tricorder. “But this is the source of the energy readings we scanned from orbit.
“His body is giving off an extremely unusal energy source. I’ve never seen anything like this…” Chakotay spoke. “Can these readings be correct? This is more than a same-mass amount of deuterium…”
“That’s impossible…” Paris replied. “Your tricorder must have been knocked out of calibration.”
“I too and getting the same readings.” Seven replied, gazing at her comrades. “Furthermore, these smaller containers are filled with Borg nano-probes. But they are unactive.
“We’ve got a body over here!” one of the three security guards announced. “It’s definetly dead.”
The group turned and quickly strode over to the man’s position. There wasn’t much left but the remains of Borg implants and bones. A thick layer of dust covered the corpse.
“Another here, too.” Said Chakotay, indicated the torso sticking out from beneath another small pile of debris. “The Borg were here.”
“But why? What did they want with this ‘Vorhees’?” Paris asked, glancing at the cryo-unit.
“I think the answers might come when we discover the reasons of why he is putting off these unusual energy signatures.” Tuvok announced. “And when we take a look at this ship’s log.
“Energize.” The transporter officer said. A flicker of energy, and the whinning sound of the transporters activating answered his words.
The away team appeared on the transporter pad, joined by the cryo-unit, and the two sealed crates of Borg nano-probes. Clutched in Seven of Nine’s hands was the ship’s log data storage unit. The away team strode off the pad, as a security team strode forward to convey the cyro unit to the medical bay and the storage crates of Borg nano-probes to the Borg regeneration alcove.
The main command crew was assembled in the briefing room, as Seven of Nine worked diligently to connect the damage log unit to the room’s view screen. After a few moments of static and garbled words, a fuzzy image began to take shape. Seven tweaked a few controls on the panel beside her, trying to bring the image into focus more, but refused to cooperate. The best the main crew could discern from the image was a vaguely Cardasian figure. Within another moment, Seven had the jumbled audio filters working to reconstruct some of the data that was intact.
“This is what remains of the last entry.” Seven announced.
“Zzzzz…..orhees…….cyro unit…..acquired….long batt….any lives lost…..Borg returned……Zzzz….reclaim…….” and after that, the sound data and image were lost as the viewscreen de-rezzed back to snow again.
“The unit is highly damaged. There appeared to be a fire or explosion of some sort on the bridge.” Seven announced to the group.
“So what do we have here?” Chakotay asked the group. “Can anything be discerned from that?”
“There’s definitely mention of the Borg returning, possibly to reclaim something?” B’elana replied.
“It’s highly possible that the Borg were looking for the Cryogenic unit.” Tuvok added, turning his face to the Captain.
“Seven of Nine, could the Borg have been interested in this ‘Vorhees’ for the same reason that we were drawn to investigate…the high-energy source?”
“It is possible. But I think the answers will lie within this unit. I think that with a little time, I might be able to coax more information out of it…If I could borrow the help of Lt. Torres.”
“Granted.” Janeway replied. “Any ideas on why this subject is giving off this high-energy source?”
“We have the Doctor currently examining the body for the answers to that question, Captain.” Tuvok replied.
“Alright. Keep me posted on any new developments. For the mean time, let’s get everyone else back to their regular duties…” The Captain said, and with that the meeting was dismissed.
The holographic doctor stood over the patient laid out across the examination table before him. In his hand he clutched a tricorder, sweeping the instrument across the body from head to feet, and staring at the results appearing on the screen with awe. The “patient” was the body found down on the planet, since removed from the cryogenic unit so that the Doc could perform any and all tests that were necessary. Behind him, one of the medical assistants readied a laser cutting device and handed it to him.
“Fascinating.” The Doctor said, taking the device and bringing it towards ‘Vorhees’s chest. “This readings are unlike anything that has ever been recorded.
“What do you mean, Doctor?” the assistant asked, taking the tricorder in return and readying it for use again as the doctor began a preliminary incession that cut through both the body’s clothes and the first layer of skin to expose the chest cavity.
“The cellular activity, the only-partial crystallization, the heat signatures, energy output. It’s almost as if his body has been trying to reject the cryogenic process. And on the same hand, there’s no brain activity. It’s like he’s dead, but not dead.”
“Doctor?” the assistant said, baffled by the long string of statements that the holographic doctor had made so rapidly.
“There’s absolutely no brain activity,” the Doctor replied, indicating a screen showing scans of the patient’s head, “But for all intensive levels, cellular-ly, he’s still alive and functioning.”
The Doctor’s female assistance seemed awed at these facts, bringing the tricorder to bear over the man’s face as the doctor began to probe into the chest cavity. The assistant reached out with her hands, tugging on the mask that covered the man’s face and frowned. It wouldn’t budge.
“Doctor, it appears that this mask will not come off. What is it anyway?”
“From what the computer’s data banks tell me, it’s a hockey mask…Used to protect the face from injury for player’s taking the position of goalie in the sport of Hockey. But this one seems much more durable. Made of thicker and tougher substances. It’s made of some carbite alloy. This one has apparently seen a lot of wear and tear…” the Doctor noted, indicated by the deep groves in the mask.
“Shall I try to cut the mask off then, Doctor?” the assistant asked, reaching to take another laser cutting device.
“No. My scans indicate that the mask is well fused to the patient’s face. If we try to remove it hastily, it’s possible we might end up taking large sections of his face with it. For now, lets just get some preliminary scans down.”
The assistant nodded, making an modification on her tricorder that activated an x-ray-like filter. She swept the scanning nodule over the patient’s face, and glanced up at the wall screen associated with this scan. She was slightly taken aback by the image that she was getting through the filtered scan. The face was ghastly, contorted. For all intensive purpose this was infact a human, despite the glaring abnormalities of his condition. But his face seemed extremely inhuman. It was twisted and cruel looking, as if cast from someone’s nightmares.
“The patient’s face is highly….mutated.” the assistant stated, struggling to find the correct words.
The doctor glanced up at the screen, nodding briefly. “The brain is quite small too. I wonder how he survived with it…It seems he is quite unusual. Such abnormalities are extremely rare in this day of the Federation…” with that his attention returned to his scans in the chest cavity. “This is entirely fascinating. All his organs are in perfect condition. No cellular decay, no degeneration at all!”
“What are you saying, Doctor?” Janeway asked, having a conference with the Doctor in her personal ready-room.
“Captain, it’s like he was born yesterday. But that’s quite impossible… We did some dating test on the clothes he was wearing. The results are unquestionable, but it seems so hard to believe…even for me… They date back to the 21st century of Earth. What’s more, there were blood stains on the weapon that was clutched in his hand inside the cryogenic unit. They’re just as old…”
“You’re telling me that you have a body in the sick bay that’s older than Federation?” Janeway replied, the disbelief apparent in her wide eyes.
“Yes, Captain. That’s what I’m telling you.”
“And what about the energy readings? Are the initial finds correct?”
“Amazingly they are.” The Doctor replied. “Captain, there’s more to tell. I ran some test on some cell samples, testing them against some viral strains. They’re immune to any sort of infection that I tried to administer…The medical implications of this are astounding, to say the least…”
Janeway was about to launch a reply, when suddenly her comm signal bleeped. “Yes?”
“Captain, Seven and B’elana have made some more progress with the ship’s log unit, and I think you might want to hear it…” Chakotay announced.
“On my way. Janeway out.”
Once more, the main crew of the Voyager was seated inside the briefing room, as Seven of Nine made the proper connections and modifications to send the audio/visual of the ship’s log to the view screen mounted in the wall. This time the Doctor was present, curious of what might be learned of this mysterious patient that seemed so very unusual. In a moment’s time, the snow flickered back to a blurry image of a Cardassian and the words were partially understandable once more.
“Zzzzz…The…..Vorhees cryo-unit…….been reacquired….a long battle….Many lives were lost…Now the Borg…….returned…..we think…….reclaim the unit…….was stolen from…….by the Ferengi……..years ago……do not know…….they want……cyro unit….do not know how……..hold out………Zzzzz….”
Janeway turned to her crew, questions in her own eyes. “What do the Cardassians, the Ferengi, and the Borg all have to do with this corpse in our sick bay?”
“Captain, I think it’s highly probable that some of the above may have realized the implications that we are discovering.” Tuvok replied, ever the logical one.
“Doctor, you mentioned that there might be some medical uses?” Janeway addressed the hologram.
“Yes Captain. If we could figure out the mechanism that is driving ‘Vorhees’s cellular resistance and apparent and vigor, it could be the potential ‘Fountain of Youth’ of Earthly lore.”
“That doesn’t explain much for the Borg.” Harry Kim replied.
“Perhaps they were thinking more of the military applications of cellular resistance to biological warfare…” The Doctor replied.
“Or of the energy source?” Tom Paris threw in his thoughts.
“All seems possible.” Seven of Nine replied. “I think that once we finish the repairs we can make to the log, that we’ll get the full picture.”
“Agreed.” Janeway replied.
“And Captain, if I may, I’d like to continue my tests on the subject.” The Doctor added.
“Alright. But don’t work too hard, Doctor. We would want you tired out if someone alive needs your assistance.”
“Such a thing isn’t possible, Captain.” The Doctor replied.
Tom Paris strode lightly down the corridors towards B’elana’s quarters. In his hands he carried a bottle of champaign that Nelix had assured him would be to B’elana’s tastes. It had been a while since he and B’elana had last been able to spend some R&R time alone together. Voyager was usually wrought with one death-defying conflict after another. But other than the discovery on Tal’Eth, it had been a rather peaceful and quiet day on Voyager as compared to the norm.
Tom keyed the panel for the door to her quarters. Inside the door tone sounded, and B’elana’s eyes opened sleepily. Whoever was disturbing her at this hour would have to have a really good reason. She tried to reign in her temper as she swung her legs over the side of her bed, irritatedly uttering “Come.”
It was Tom Paris, and he had his usual sheepish grin plaster on his face. Both his hands were behind his back, and B’elana knew Tom’s usual antics too well to know that this was probably some inane piece of junk that Nelix had come across through his junk-trading that Tom just couldn’t wait to show her. She rolled her eyes, beginning to rise from the bed.
“Tom Paris…do you have any idea of what hour it is…?”
“Yes, B’elana I do. And I’m sorry, but I came as soon as got off shift.”
“What did Nelix find for you this time? Can’t it wait till morning? I have to report to Engineering in less than seven hours…”
Tom crossed the threshold quickly, removing one hand from behind his back and gently pressing it against her shoulder, as if to tell her to remain seated. He crouched down beside her, ignoring the irritated look on B’elana’s face. From behind his back, he produced his other hand and the champaign bottle that it clutched. For once he knew that B’elana wouldn’t be angry with his “lasted find.”
“I thought maybe we might enjoy a few drinks, and spend some romantic time alone…” Paris said, attempting to pop the cork.
B’elana grinned, for once surprised at Tom’s behavior. “Tom, romantic time with you usually means working together on the Delta flyer until the late hours of the night…”
“I promise, B’elana, that you’ll be receiving just as much, if not more of my attention that the Flyer does…”
Inside the sick bay, The holographic doctor was hunched over a terminal, scolling through lists of viral strains he hadn’t tried against his samples yet. He didn’t notice the spasm in the arm of the subject lying on the table behind him. Nor the clenching of the fist that followed it. It wasn’t until he heard the squelch of a spike of brain activity that he turned around, baffled. The subject was lying as it always had been. Puzzled, he returned to his work…
B’elana Torres cried out in pleasure.
The instruments screamed to life just as Jason Vorhees sat bolt upright on the examination table. The Doctor whirled around, only to be shocked beyond his own processing programs. The subject had been, for all intensive purposes, clinically dead. Now he had risen, turning his masked face towards the Doctor. For once the holographic program seemed at a loss of words…
The alert comm tone sounded in Janeway’s quarters. She instantly shred the sleep in her eyes, long since used to being interrupted by the myriad of emergencies the ship had come under. She sat up at once, reaching for her boots. “Janeway here.”
“Captain, we have a security emergency in Sick Bay. The Doctor has reported that ‘Vorhees’ has just woken up and tried to kill him. Then he rushed out of Sick Bay after reclaiming his weapon…” Tuvok reported in his emotionless voice.
“What?!” Janeway recalled, her blood suddenly turning cold. “I thought he was dead!?”
“He was dead. But now he’s moving through one of the aft corridors...” Tuvok replied.
Jason Vorhees had swung his fist at the Doctor’s chest. But strangely enough, it had simply continued through the intangible hologram. In a rage, he swept his hand back, trying again to hit the being. But once more, his arm did not contact. Enraged, he turned about, spying his machete lying on a examination tray. He took up his familiar weapon, and brought it to bear on the hologram. Once again, the failure of his actions caused even more rage to well inside him. Dripping with malice and hatred, Jason turned and strode out of the Sick Bay, seeking a new victim.
Jason found a new object to unleash his hatred on almost immediately. A minor ship’s officer clad in a crimson uniform was striding down the corridor, at once grinding to a stop as the imposing seven foot plus form of Jason stepped out into the hallway before him. He reached up to key his comm unit, but never got the chance…
The machete tore through flesh, muscle, sinew and bone like paper. With a scream of agony, the officer sunk to his knees, gazing as the bloody stump where his elbow was once located let out a spurt of blood that matched the deep crimson of his uniform. Jason stood before him now, raising up his seemingly-ancient weapon to strike once more. In fear, the convulsing officer reached for his phaser, but found the action harder than usual given that it was located on the hip of the side of his body that was now armless. His trembling left hand fumbled to reach the weapon, but in vain. The machete tore into his chest, cleaving him in two right shoulder to left hip just as his fingers found purchase on his sidearm.
Jason Vorhees stepped over the corpse at his feet, his eyes seeking another victim…
“We have to stop him immediately. Reports are coming in from that deck already. 13 casualities in the last 5 minutes.” Chakotay replied.
“Lethal force seems required.” Tuvok replied.
“No! Captain, if I may say so…we have to be cautious how we approach this. The implications of the medical uses alone are astounding. We must take him alive.” The Doctor replied.
“Captain, this thing is killing my crew mates. I’m going to need a greater reason than that to not have him put down on sight.” Janeway replied.
“Another reason may be apparent, Captain.” Seven of Nine responded. “B’elana’s tests on the information the Doctor sent over hours ago seems to speak for itself. If we can discover a way to utilize the power-output, it could shave years off our trip back to Earth.”
Janeway stood in silence, as if weighing those words carefully. The face of her crewmates seemed to be doing the same.
“Alright. Tuvok, you’re men are to take him alive. But I want it done immediately. I won’t have this…thing…running free on my ship, killing my crew anymore.”
Jason stepped over yet another corpse, gleeful in his bloodlust. A security officer rounded the bend in the corridor ahead of him, already whipping out his phaser. Jason seemed to take no fear in the weapon being aimed in his direction. He strode forward confidently, raising up his gore-smeared blade to claim another life. The security officer fired, and the stun-set phaser beam struck Jason high in the left shoulder. The monster didn’t even falter for a second, continuing to stride towards the suddenly pale-faced man.
The security officer stumbled backwards, his fingers searching to key the phaser up to the “kill” setting. Orders or no orders, he would rather face time in solitary than death. Precious seconds had been wasted as he was forced to lower the phaser from the aiming position to recalibrate. In the moment that he took aim once more, and fired, Jason was on him, the beam striking him dead-center of the chest as he reached out with his arm to grasp the man’s throat.
The residual crimson spherical glow on Jason’s chest seemed not faze him in the slightest as he lifted the man up of the deck. A gurgled cry left the man’s lips, and he tried desperately to force his way free. He kicked at the abomination’s chest with all the strength left in him, and it did not budge. If Jason Vorhees could laugh, he would. The man fired a second, yet again useless, point-blank shot into his abdomin, just as the machete rendered his head from his spinal column. Jason took glee as the last gasp of breath entered the man’s mouth before his head had hit the deck. A fountain of blood sprayed across Jason’s arm as he left the corpse drop to the deck.
Jason whirled, just as trio of stun-set phaser beams took him in the back and shoulder. He felt no pain, no sense of disorientation. He felt only malice, only the purity of the darkness within his forsaken soul. He was already on the move when the second trio of beams collided uselessly with his chest. The security officers stood their ground, launching volley after volley into the beast. Jason could feel the fear welling in their chests. He could taste the perspiration beginning to break out across their foreheads as they realized that they had survived every death-defying moment on Voyager only to come to this moment. The moment of their demise.
In fear, one of the trio turned to run, abandoned his duty to protect the crew with is instinct of self preservation. He would be Jason Vorhees’ first new victim. With a time-honed precision, Jason whipped his arm in an arch, releasing his blade at just the proper moment. The blade ripped through the space between in a whirling death-arch. It whistled as it sang through the corridor and imbedded in the man’s spine, just below the kidney’s. He dropped at once, paralyzed from the waist down as his spinal cord was severed.
The other two witnessed the fate of their comrade in horror, backing up a few paces while continuing to fire. Jason was striding forward on his long legs, coming closer and closer to them. One of the two standing officers remaining crossed the deck over to a hatch in the wall. Rapidly he keyed in his access code the weapon’s cache. He reached inside, removing an Type III Phaser rifle and whirled to bring it bear on the murderer. He was within 5 meters now, just as the officer added the weapon’s superior stopping power to the phaser of the other remaining officer. The more-powerful stun beam struck alongside the other beam, almost in nearly the same impact point. Still Jason did not stutter in step.
Jason reached the man wielding the Type III a moment later. The man had lowered the weapon again, attempting to flip up the HUD panel and switch to a higher destructive setting, and in the moment Jason’s had closed on the weapon’s body, his superior strength ripping it free from the man’s one-handed grip. In an effortless display of strength, Jason clenched his fist tighter, and the weapon snapped in half much like a brittle bunch of sticks. In shock the man turned to run, but Jason had grabbed him by the wrist, whipping him into his comrade.
The officers were slammed against the bulkhead, the concussive force throwing their equilibrium for a loop. The monster was standing over them, reaching down to grab one in his death-grip. He raised the man up by the throat, tossing him into the opposing bulkhead. The second officer tried in vain to scramble backwards, but Jason reached down and plucked him from the deck by his thigh. With a resounding crack, Jason inverted the man and drove him head first into the deck with such a force that his skull collapse under the sheer impact. Blood and brain matter exploded across the deck, a tiny bit of the gore landing on the other man’s cheek.
He screamed in terror as Jason reached down to claim him by the throat once more.
Jason Vorhees tossed the man headlong into a wall terimal, a shower of sparks exploding into the corridor as the man’s face ruptured the panel. Elecricity coursed through the man’s body before he slumped to the deck, the smell of ozone and cooked flesh filling Jason’s nostrils from beneath the mask.
The third officer was still writhing in agony on the deck ahead, trying to claw his way across the floor…
Jason reached down, plucking his machete like a splinter from the man’s back and the floor beneath it. He kneeled down for a moment, as if appreciating the mixed look of agony and terror in the man’s eyes before he brought the blade down point first to the back of the man’s skull.
(as a note, I'm surely no expert on any of the ST series, as it is I've seen handfuls of TNG and VOY episodes. I had some help in a friend, and with the info listed on this very site. If there are mistakes, pleasure forgive me. Some of them are intentional, done in jest or bastardization of what is alread self-bastardized.)
Warning: Intense violence!
“Captain’s log, Star date 50255.6…Voyager has come into the relatively empty system of Tal’Eth. A single planet and it’s twin moons occupy this system, but the nearest star is no less than 20 light years away. The may have once been long ago occupied, but now appears nothing but a desolate sphere in space.”
Harry Kim strode down the hallway to Astrometrics, walking through the door that opened with a slight hiss. Inside, Seven of Nine was bent over a computer console, deep in study of the star charts as usual. Kim strode up to her, donning his usual smile. Seven hardly raised her eyes for more than a second to acknowledge his presence.
“Yes?” she asked somewhat flatly, as was her typical nature.
“Seven, do you know what today’s date is, according to my chronometer set to Earth-time?”
Seven of Nine keyed in a few short commands into her terminal, then turned to Harry, reciting a string of emotionless data.
“Yes…that’s correct, but the date, in general? It’s Friday the 13th, Seven.”
“I fail to see the relevance.” Seven responded, returning her eyes to her duties.
“It’s an old Earth suppersition.” Harry began, leaning against the console. “It’s always been somewhat of a legend that Friday the 13th is a bad-luck day for everyone…”
“And do you believe in this…superstition, Ensign Kim?
Harry shrugged. “Only halfheartedly. Just be careful of any stray black cats, Seven.”
“I shall keep my eyes pealed…” Seven replied.
“Preliminary scans of the planet finished, Captain.” Tom Paris said. “Just one big dust ball.”
“I am attempting to filter through the dust in the atmosphere for a second sweep.” Tuvok announced, keying his console at the Tactical Ops position. “But I am relatively sure that this planet is free of any deuterium signatures.”
“We have to be certain.” Janeway replied, crossing her legs while sitting in her command chair.
“Captain…I think I’ve found something. It’s a heavy energy signature, but it’s not deuterium. I’m getting metal signatures. I think it might be a downed ship of some sort…” Kim said, a bit of excitement in his voice.
Janeway turned to face her second in command. Chakotay was regarding her as well, as if both weighing in silent questions to one another.
“You know what to do, Chakotay. Take an away team down to look into it. And be careful…”
Chakotay nodded, rising to his feet and striding off the bridge.
Lt. Tuvok, Seven of Nine, Lt. Paris, Chakotay and three security officers stood alongside the battered and broken hull of a long-rusted space-freighter. Tuvok and Seven instantly took out tricorders, scanning the ship for the energy signs they had received onboard Voyager. Paris stood a wary step forward, nearing a gaping hole in the ship’s hull that stood open like the rusted maw of a great beast. Tuvok, Chakotay and Seven followed closely behind, with the security officers keeping on hand on their phasers at all times.
“I’m reading no life signs. The decay rate of the metal in the hull of the ship suggests that it has been here for 10 years.” Tuvok announced.
Paris stepped through the opening and was at once standing in what remained of the ships cargo hold. Paris activated a field light and swept the beam around, gazing at the ship’s rusted innards.
“’Fraid there’s not much left here, Captain.” Paris announced after activating his comm..
“Keep looking. We need to locate that power source.” She replied.
Seven of Nine had crossed in front of him, walking to an apparently broken terminal mounted on one of the walls. She swept her tricorder over it, and a slight frown creased her lips. The energy source was surely not coming from the ship itself, but rather something nearby.
“There is no power left in the ship’s core.” She announced, and then swept her tricorder in a new direction, refining the scanning parameters as she did. At once she picked up a stronger reading, not far away from Lt. Paris’ position, and headed in that direction.
A pile of debris stood not 5 feet away from Paris, covering a long section of the cargo hold’s floor with long, blade-like pieces of sheet metal. Seven focused her tricorder on the pile, joined by Tuvok.
“The readings are coming from beneath this debris.” He announced. “Shall we attempt to move it?”
“Be cautious” Janeway replied from the safety of her command chair.
“Understood, Captain.” Chakotay replied.
Paris, Tuvok, and Seven began to try and lift away the panels with their combined effort. One of the three security officers joined the effort, while the other two remained ready to cover them should anything go wrong. Within minutes, the group had moved away all the small pieces, and manage to muscle the largest aside to get a look at what was giving off the high energy signature.
“It’s a very old cryogenics contaniner.” Paris announced. “Someone’s in there, too.”
Tom stopped down to the side of the unit, brushing away layers of dust from the face. There was an engraved plate mounted beneath the control panels. Tom’s fingers found the groves, began wiping aside the dust that obscured them. His eyes squinted, trying to get a better look at the figures, as Tuvok added his field light’s beam to Paris’.
“Vorhees.” Tom announced. “Whatever that means.”
“The subject is in perfect cryogenic hibernation…if you disclude the fact that he is apparently dead.” Seven announced after a brief sweep of her tricorder. “But this is the source of the energy readings we scanned from orbit.
“His body is giving off an extremely unusal energy source. I’ve never seen anything like this…” Chakotay spoke. “Can these readings be correct? This is more than a same-mass amount of deuterium…”
“That’s impossible…” Paris replied. “Your tricorder must have been knocked out of calibration.”
“I too and getting the same readings.” Seven replied, gazing at her comrades. “Furthermore, these smaller containers are filled with Borg nano-probes. But they are unactive.
“We’ve got a body over here!” one of the three security guards announced. “It’s definetly dead.”
The group turned and quickly strode over to the man’s position. There wasn’t much left but the remains of Borg implants and bones. A thick layer of dust covered the corpse.
“Another here, too.” Said Chakotay, indicated the torso sticking out from beneath another small pile of debris. “The Borg were here.”
“But why? What did they want with this ‘Vorhees’?” Paris asked, glancing at the cryo-unit.
“I think the answers might come when we discover the reasons of why he is putting off these unusual energy signatures.” Tuvok announced. “And when we take a look at this ship’s log.
“Energize.” The transporter officer said. A flicker of energy, and the whinning sound of the transporters activating answered his words.
The away team appeared on the transporter pad, joined by the cryo-unit, and the two sealed crates of Borg nano-probes. Clutched in Seven of Nine’s hands was the ship’s log data storage unit. The away team strode off the pad, as a security team strode forward to convey the cyro unit to the medical bay and the storage crates of Borg nano-probes to the Borg regeneration alcove.
The main command crew was assembled in the briefing room, as Seven of Nine worked diligently to connect the damage log unit to the room’s view screen. After a few moments of static and garbled words, a fuzzy image began to take shape. Seven tweaked a few controls on the panel beside her, trying to bring the image into focus more, but refused to cooperate. The best the main crew could discern from the image was a vaguely Cardasian figure. Within another moment, Seven had the jumbled audio filters working to reconstruct some of the data that was intact.
“This is what remains of the last entry.” Seven announced.
“Zzzzz…..orhees…….cyro unit…..acquired….long batt….any lives lost…..Borg returned……Zzzz….reclaim…….” and after that, the sound data and image were lost as the viewscreen de-rezzed back to snow again.
“The unit is highly damaged. There appeared to be a fire or explosion of some sort on the bridge.” Seven announced to the group.
“So what do we have here?” Chakotay asked the group. “Can anything be discerned from that?”
“There’s definitely mention of the Borg returning, possibly to reclaim something?” B’elana replied.
“It’s highly possible that the Borg were looking for the Cryogenic unit.” Tuvok added, turning his face to the Captain.
“Seven of Nine, could the Borg have been interested in this ‘Vorhees’ for the same reason that we were drawn to investigate…the high-energy source?”
“It is possible. But I think the answers will lie within this unit. I think that with a little time, I might be able to coax more information out of it…If I could borrow the help of Lt. Torres.”
“Granted.” Janeway replied. “Any ideas on why this subject is giving off this high-energy source?”
“We have the Doctor currently examining the body for the answers to that question, Captain.” Tuvok replied.
“Alright. Keep me posted on any new developments. For the mean time, let’s get everyone else back to their regular duties…” The Captain said, and with that the meeting was dismissed.
The holographic doctor stood over the patient laid out across the examination table before him. In his hand he clutched a tricorder, sweeping the instrument across the body from head to feet, and staring at the results appearing on the screen with awe. The “patient” was the body found down on the planet, since removed from the cryogenic unit so that the Doc could perform any and all tests that were necessary. Behind him, one of the medical assistants readied a laser cutting device and handed it to him.
“Fascinating.” The Doctor said, taking the device and bringing it towards ‘Vorhees’s chest. “This readings are unlike anything that has ever been recorded.
“What do you mean, Doctor?” the assistant asked, taking the tricorder in return and readying it for use again as the doctor began a preliminary incession that cut through both the body’s clothes and the first layer of skin to expose the chest cavity.
“The cellular activity, the only-partial crystallization, the heat signatures, energy output. It’s almost as if his body has been trying to reject the cryogenic process. And on the same hand, there’s no brain activity. It’s like he’s dead, but not dead.”
“Doctor?” the assistant said, baffled by the long string of statements that the holographic doctor had made so rapidly.
“There’s absolutely no brain activity,” the Doctor replied, indicating a screen showing scans of the patient’s head, “But for all intensive levels, cellular-ly, he’s still alive and functioning.”
The Doctor’s female assistance seemed awed at these facts, bringing the tricorder to bear over the man’s face as the doctor began to probe into the chest cavity. The assistant reached out with her hands, tugging on the mask that covered the man’s face and frowned. It wouldn’t budge.
“Doctor, it appears that this mask will not come off. What is it anyway?”
“From what the computer’s data banks tell me, it’s a hockey mask…Used to protect the face from injury for player’s taking the position of goalie in the sport of Hockey. But this one seems much more durable. Made of thicker and tougher substances. It’s made of some carbite alloy. This one has apparently seen a lot of wear and tear…” the Doctor noted, indicated by the deep groves in the mask.
“Shall I try to cut the mask off then, Doctor?” the assistant asked, reaching to take another laser cutting device.
“No. My scans indicate that the mask is well fused to the patient’s face. If we try to remove it hastily, it’s possible we might end up taking large sections of his face with it. For now, lets just get some preliminary scans down.”
The assistant nodded, making an modification on her tricorder that activated an x-ray-like filter. She swept the scanning nodule over the patient’s face, and glanced up at the wall screen associated with this scan. She was slightly taken aback by the image that she was getting through the filtered scan. The face was ghastly, contorted. For all intensive purpose this was infact a human, despite the glaring abnormalities of his condition. But his face seemed extremely inhuman. It was twisted and cruel looking, as if cast from someone’s nightmares.
“The patient’s face is highly….mutated.” the assistant stated, struggling to find the correct words.
The doctor glanced up at the screen, nodding briefly. “The brain is quite small too. I wonder how he survived with it…It seems he is quite unusual. Such abnormalities are extremely rare in this day of the Federation…” with that his attention returned to his scans in the chest cavity. “This is entirely fascinating. All his organs are in perfect condition. No cellular decay, no degeneration at all!”
“What are you saying, Doctor?” Janeway asked, having a conference with the Doctor in her personal ready-room.
“Captain, it’s like he was born yesterday. But that’s quite impossible… We did some dating test on the clothes he was wearing. The results are unquestionable, but it seems so hard to believe…even for me… They date back to the 21st century of Earth. What’s more, there were blood stains on the weapon that was clutched in his hand inside the cryogenic unit. They’re just as old…”
“You’re telling me that you have a body in the sick bay that’s older than Federation?” Janeway replied, the disbelief apparent in her wide eyes.
“Yes, Captain. That’s what I’m telling you.”
“And what about the energy readings? Are the initial finds correct?”
“Amazingly they are.” The Doctor replied. “Captain, there’s more to tell. I ran some test on some cell samples, testing them against some viral strains. They’re immune to any sort of infection that I tried to administer…The medical implications of this are astounding, to say the least…”
Janeway was about to launch a reply, when suddenly her comm signal bleeped. “Yes?”
“Captain, Seven and B’elana have made some more progress with the ship’s log unit, and I think you might want to hear it…” Chakotay announced.
“On my way. Janeway out.”
Once more, the main crew of the Voyager was seated inside the briefing room, as Seven of Nine made the proper connections and modifications to send the audio/visual of the ship’s log to the view screen mounted in the wall. This time the Doctor was present, curious of what might be learned of this mysterious patient that seemed so very unusual. In a moment’s time, the snow flickered back to a blurry image of a Cardassian and the words were partially understandable once more.
“Zzzzz…The…..Vorhees cryo-unit…….been reacquired….a long battle….Many lives were lost…Now the Borg…….returned…..we think…….reclaim the unit…….was stolen from…….by the Ferengi……..years ago……do not know…….they want……cyro unit….do not know how……..hold out………Zzzzz….”
Janeway turned to her crew, questions in her own eyes. “What do the Cardassians, the Ferengi, and the Borg all have to do with this corpse in our sick bay?”
“Captain, I think it’s highly probable that some of the above may have realized the implications that we are discovering.” Tuvok replied, ever the logical one.
“Doctor, you mentioned that there might be some medical uses?” Janeway addressed the hologram.
“Yes Captain. If we could figure out the mechanism that is driving ‘Vorhees’s cellular resistance and apparent and vigor, it could be the potential ‘Fountain of Youth’ of Earthly lore.”
“That doesn’t explain much for the Borg.” Harry Kim replied.
“Perhaps they were thinking more of the military applications of cellular resistance to biological warfare…” The Doctor replied.
“Or of the energy source?” Tom Paris threw in his thoughts.
“All seems possible.” Seven of Nine replied. “I think that once we finish the repairs we can make to the log, that we’ll get the full picture.”
“Agreed.” Janeway replied.
“And Captain, if I may, I’d like to continue my tests on the subject.” The Doctor added.
“Alright. But don’t work too hard, Doctor. We would want you tired out if someone alive needs your assistance.”
“Such a thing isn’t possible, Captain.” The Doctor replied.
Tom Paris strode lightly down the corridors towards B’elana’s quarters. In his hands he carried a bottle of champaign that Nelix had assured him would be to B’elana’s tastes. It had been a while since he and B’elana had last been able to spend some R&R time alone together. Voyager was usually wrought with one death-defying conflict after another. But other than the discovery on Tal’Eth, it had been a rather peaceful and quiet day on Voyager as compared to the norm.
Tom keyed the panel for the door to her quarters. Inside the door tone sounded, and B’elana’s eyes opened sleepily. Whoever was disturbing her at this hour would have to have a really good reason. She tried to reign in her temper as she swung her legs over the side of her bed, irritatedly uttering “Come.”
It was Tom Paris, and he had his usual sheepish grin plaster on his face. Both his hands were behind his back, and B’elana knew Tom’s usual antics too well to know that this was probably some inane piece of junk that Nelix had come across through his junk-trading that Tom just couldn’t wait to show her. She rolled her eyes, beginning to rise from the bed.
“Tom Paris…do you have any idea of what hour it is…?”
“Yes, B’elana I do. And I’m sorry, but I came as soon as got off shift.”
“What did Nelix find for you this time? Can’t it wait till morning? I have to report to Engineering in less than seven hours…”
Tom crossed the threshold quickly, removing one hand from behind his back and gently pressing it against her shoulder, as if to tell her to remain seated. He crouched down beside her, ignoring the irritated look on B’elana’s face. From behind his back, he produced his other hand and the champaign bottle that it clutched. For once he knew that B’elana wouldn’t be angry with his “lasted find.”
“I thought maybe we might enjoy a few drinks, and spend some romantic time alone…” Paris said, attempting to pop the cork.
B’elana grinned, for once surprised at Tom’s behavior. “Tom, romantic time with you usually means working together on the Delta flyer until the late hours of the night…”
“I promise, B’elana, that you’ll be receiving just as much, if not more of my attention that the Flyer does…”
Inside the sick bay, The holographic doctor was hunched over a terminal, scolling through lists of viral strains he hadn’t tried against his samples yet. He didn’t notice the spasm in the arm of the subject lying on the table behind him. Nor the clenching of the fist that followed it. It wasn’t until he heard the squelch of a spike of brain activity that he turned around, baffled. The subject was lying as it always had been. Puzzled, he returned to his work…
B’elana Torres cried out in pleasure.
The instruments screamed to life just as Jason Vorhees sat bolt upright on the examination table. The Doctor whirled around, only to be shocked beyond his own processing programs. The subject had been, for all intensive purposes, clinically dead. Now he had risen, turning his masked face towards the Doctor. For once the holographic program seemed at a loss of words…
The alert comm tone sounded in Janeway’s quarters. She instantly shred the sleep in her eyes, long since used to being interrupted by the myriad of emergencies the ship had come under. She sat up at once, reaching for her boots. “Janeway here.”
“Captain, we have a security emergency in Sick Bay. The Doctor has reported that ‘Vorhees’ has just woken up and tried to kill him. Then he rushed out of Sick Bay after reclaiming his weapon…” Tuvok reported in his emotionless voice.
“What?!” Janeway recalled, her blood suddenly turning cold. “I thought he was dead!?”
“He was dead. But now he’s moving through one of the aft corridors...” Tuvok replied.
Jason Vorhees had swung his fist at the Doctor’s chest. But strangely enough, it had simply continued through the intangible hologram. In a rage, he swept his hand back, trying again to hit the being. But once more, his arm did not contact. Enraged, he turned about, spying his machete lying on a examination tray. He took up his familiar weapon, and brought it to bear on the hologram. Once again, the failure of his actions caused even more rage to well inside him. Dripping with malice and hatred, Jason turned and strode out of the Sick Bay, seeking a new victim.
Jason found a new object to unleash his hatred on almost immediately. A minor ship’s officer clad in a crimson uniform was striding down the corridor, at once grinding to a stop as the imposing seven foot plus form of Jason stepped out into the hallway before him. He reached up to key his comm unit, but never got the chance…
The machete tore through flesh, muscle, sinew and bone like paper. With a scream of agony, the officer sunk to his knees, gazing as the bloody stump where his elbow was once located let out a spurt of blood that matched the deep crimson of his uniform. Jason stood before him now, raising up his seemingly-ancient weapon to strike once more. In fear, the convulsing officer reached for his phaser, but found the action harder than usual given that it was located on the hip of the side of his body that was now armless. His trembling left hand fumbled to reach the weapon, but in vain. The machete tore into his chest, cleaving him in two right shoulder to left hip just as his fingers found purchase on his sidearm.
Jason Vorhees stepped over the corpse at his feet, his eyes seeking another victim…
“We have to stop him immediately. Reports are coming in from that deck already. 13 casualities in the last 5 minutes.” Chakotay replied.
“Lethal force seems required.” Tuvok replied.
“No! Captain, if I may say so…we have to be cautious how we approach this. The implications of the medical uses alone are astounding. We must take him alive.” The Doctor replied.
“Captain, this thing is killing my crew mates. I’m going to need a greater reason than that to not have him put down on sight.” Janeway replied.
“Another reason may be apparent, Captain.” Seven of Nine responded. “B’elana’s tests on the information the Doctor sent over hours ago seems to speak for itself. If we can discover a way to utilize the power-output, it could shave years off our trip back to Earth.”
Janeway stood in silence, as if weighing those words carefully. The face of her crewmates seemed to be doing the same.
“Alright. Tuvok, you’re men are to take him alive. But I want it done immediately. I won’t have this…thing…running free on my ship, killing my crew anymore.”
Jason stepped over yet another corpse, gleeful in his bloodlust. A security officer rounded the bend in the corridor ahead of him, already whipping out his phaser. Jason seemed to take no fear in the weapon being aimed in his direction. He strode forward confidently, raising up his gore-smeared blade to claim another life. The security officer fired, and the stun-set phaser beam struck Jason high in the left shoulder. The monster didn’t even falter for a second, continuing to stride towards the suddenly pale-faced man.
The security officer stumbled backwards, his fingers searching to key the phaser up to the “kill” setting. Orders or no orders, he would rather face time in solitary than death. Precious seconds had been wasted as he was forced to lower the phaser from the aiming position to recalibrate. In the moment that he took aim once more, and fired, Jason was on him, the beam striking him dead-center of the chest as he reached out with his arm to grasp the man’s throat.
The residual crimson spherical glow on Jason’s chest seemed not faze him in the slightest as he lifted the man up of the deck. A gurgled cry left the man’s lips, and he tried desperately to force his way free. He kicked at the abomination’s chest with all the strength left in him, and it did not budge. If Jason Vorhees could laugh, he would. The man fired a second, yet again useless, point-blank shot into his abdomin, just as the machete rendered his head from his spinal column. Jason took glee as the last gasp of breath entered the man’s mouth before his head had hit the deck. A fountain of blood sprayed across Jason’s arm as he left the corpse drop to the deck.
Jason whirled, just as trio of stun-set phaser beams took him in the back and shoulder. He felt no pain, no sense of disorientation. He felt only malice, only the purity of the darkness within his forsaken soul. He was already on the move when the second trio of beams collided uselessly with his chest. The security officers stood their ground, launching volley after volley into the beast. Jason could feel the fear welling in their chests. He could taste the perspiration beginning to break out across their foreheads as they realized that they had survived every death-defying moment on Voyager only to come to this moment. The moment of their demise.
In fear, one of the trio turned to run, abandoned his duty to protect the crew with is instinct of self preservation. He would be Jason Vorhees’ first new victim. With a time-honed precision, Jason whipped his arm in an arch, releasing his blade at just the proper moment. The blade ripped through the space between in a whirling death-arch. It whistled as it sang through the corridor and imbedded in the man’s spine, just below the kidney’s. He dropped at once, paralyzed from the waist down as his spinal cord was severed.
The other two witnessed the fate of their comrade in horror, backing up a few paces while continuing to fire. Jason was striding forward on his long legs, coming closer and closer to them. One of the two standing officers remaining crossed the deck over to a hatch in the wall. Rapidly he keyed in his access code the weapon’s cache. He reached inside, removing an Type III Phaser rifle and whirled to bring it bear on the murderer. He was within 5 meters now, just as the officer added the weapon’s superior stopping power to the phaser of the other remaining officer. The more-powerful stun beam struck alongside the other beam, almost in nearly the same impact point. Still Jason did not stutter in step.
Jason reached the man wielding the Type III a moment later. The man had lowered the weapon again, attempting to flip up the HUD panel and switch to a higher destructive setting, and in the moment Jason’s had closed on the weapon’s body, his superior strength ripping it free from the man’s one-handed grip. In an effortless display of strength, Jason clenched his fist tighter, and the weapon snapped in half much like a brittle bunch of sticks. In shock the man turned to run, but Jason had grabbed him by the wrist, whipping him into his comrade.
The officers were slammed against the bulkhead, the concussive force throwing their equilibrium for a loop. The monster was standing over them, reaching down to grab one in his death-grip. He raised the man up by the throat, tossing him into the opposing bulkhead. The second officer tried in vain to scramble backwards, but Jason reached down and plucked him from the deck by his thigh. With a resounding crack, Jason inverted the man and drove him head first into the deck with such a force that his skull collapse under the sheer impact. Blood and brain matter exploded across the deck, a tiny bit of the gore landing on the other man’s cheek.
He screamed in terror as Jason reached down to claim him by the throat once more.
Jason Vorhees tossed the man headlong into a wall terimal, a shower of sparks exploding into the corridor as the man’s face ruptured the panel. Elecricity coursed through the man’s body before he slumped to the deck, the smell of ozone and cooked flesh filling Jason’s nostrils from beneath the mask.
The third officer was still writhing in agony on the deck ahead, trying to claw his way across the floor…
Jason reached down, plucking his machete like a splinter from the man’s back and the floor beneath it. He kneeled down for a moment, as if appreciating the mixed look of agony and terror in the man’s eyes before he brought the blade down point first to the back of the man’s skull.
)