Disclaimers: Logan and Jubilee belong to Marvel. The Star Ship Enterprise and her crew as well as Q, belong to Paramount and the estate of Gene Roddenbury. Regina Williams belongs to me.
A/N: This is a crossover between Star Trek: The Next Generation and X-Men.
Phoenix Rising: Chapter 1
"Captains' Log: Stardate 4513.4
"Repairs are underway after our encounter with the being called Argon. Mr. LaForge estimates repair time for main engines at forty four fours and phasers at six days, if we can find replacement parts. Hull breaches on decks 3, 10, 12 and 15 are contained with emergency force fields.
"Our greatest priority is the lack of dilithium crystals. There is still no clue as to how the crystals were removed from the warp core and secure storage at the same time. Surveillance tapes show the crystals in their customary place one second, and gone the next. The technician standing next to the core at the time has stated that he was looking at the crystals at the time of their disappearance. He has reported an instantaneous disappearance, without transporter effect or intruder interference. We are at a loss to explain what happened. Mr. Worf and Mr. LaForge are presently involved in reviewing the security data to see if anything has been missed. Commander Data has assured me that there has been no changes to the computer logs during the time in question.
"We have informed Star Fleet of the situation and they are sending a repair ship with replacement dilithium crystals and parts. I have been informed that a representative of Star Fleet intelligence will also be on the cruiser. This has caused a great deal of tension on board Enterprise. Both Mr Worf and Commander Riker find the involvement of intelligence to be an insult to the crew of this ship. I will reserve judgment until I have evaluated what this agent can do.
"A list of the injured and dead accompanies this log as well as messages to the families of those lost on this mission. Please note, I have recommended a commendation for Lt. Regina Williams for bravery above and beyond the call of duty. Her actions saved the lives of thirteen crew members and prevented the destruction of the sick bay. She cannot or will not explain how she managed to prevent a hull breach directly into sick bay and I have decided not to press the issue at this time."
Captain Jean Luc Picard added his electronic signature to the log and sent it off to Star Fleet headquarters with a heavy heart. Loosing one crew member was difficult. This mission cost the ship twenty three. This was an unusually large number of fatalities for a mission that was never near a planet.
It was supposed to be routine investigation of possible piracy in the sector. Star Fleet was sure it was a copy cat using Argons' techniques since he had been spotted two days ago near Vulcan, nearly 100 light years away. The Vulcan's gave chase but quickly lost him and were unable to trace the ship. If that report was accurate, Argon has technology far above Star Fleet. Unfortunately, it was no copycat.
Picard turned his thoughts to Lt. Williams. She should have not been able to do what she did. There was no rational explanation. Several junior officers had mentioned magic and were roundly ridiculed. Picard wasn't so sure. He had been many places and seen many things that should have been impossible, most prominently, the Q.
His thoughts were interrupted by a tone from the door.
"Enter," he called. His First Officer, William Riker, entered as the doors opened.
"Final figures on the damage," he said as he handed a padd to his Captain. Picard read the report and felt slightly nauseous.
"We've never been hurt this bad before," he frowned. "The Beagle should be here tomorrow at twelve hundred hours. They have replacement parts and dilithium crystals. I am sending our dead and the more severely injured back with them."
"With all due respect Captain," Riker said, "Deanna isn't going to like that much."
"I have no intention of sending Counselor Troy with them," Picard told him. "Beverly tells me she has regained consciousness and feels fine. She says there was a telepath on Argons ship that shut her mind down."
"But scans showed only humans aboard," Riker protested.
"Yes," Picard said thoughtfully. "Curious, isn't it?" There were several things that were odd about that ship. He couldn't quite put his finger on the reason for his unease but it started with finding the ship in this sector when it shouldn't have been able to get here in the small amount of time available. "Will, what do you know about Lt. Williams?"
"She joined the crew six months ago with an excellent record," Riker reported. "Beverly tells me she's an good nurse. Other than that, nothing. I don't think I've met her. Why?"
"She was the crewman that saved sick bay during the attack," Picard explained. "I am at a loss as to how she did it." He really didn't want to voice his fears but he had to. "Could she be Q?"
"I don't think so," Riker mused. "If she were, we'd have gotten a visit from their roving ambassador by now."
"Don't mention him," Picard cringed. "He'll turn up like a bad penny."
"Bridge to Picard," Data's voice came over the comm.
"Go ahead Mr. Data," Picard answered.
"Sir, Beagle is hailing us."
Picards' eyebrows rose in surprise. "On my way," he told the android.
"Wonder why they're early," Riker mumbled as he followed his Captain out of the ready room to the bridge.
"On screen," Picard ordered. The harried face of Captain Marshall Creed popped up on the main view screen. "Marshall," Picard greeted him.
"Picard," Captain Creed almost cried with relief. "You have to take this lunatic off my hands immediately. He's been growling at me since he came aboard."
"Surely it isn't that bad," Picard began. "He is, after all, a represent..."
"I'm afraid to come out of my quarters," Creed interrupted. "He trains constantly. My security crew has been decimated by him. I'm begging you Jean Luc, get him off my ship!"
"Is he ready for transport?" Picard asked, sighing.
"He's been in the transporter room since 1300 hours," Creed said with a weak smile. "I wouldn't be out of my quarters if he wasn't."
"Are we in range Mr. Data?" Riker asked.
"Yes sir," Data replied.
"He wants all senior officers present when he transports in and there are some special transporter settings you will need," Creed told him. "I am having them sent now." Picard saw Data nod indicating he had received the information. A flurry of hands told Picard that the settings had been routed to the main transporter room.
"Thanks Picard," Creed sighed in relief. "I owe you big."
"I'll collect later," Picard told him. "Picard out." The screen switched to star field. "Senior officers to transporter room one."
Picard and Riker were surprised to find Deanna Troy present in the transporter room when they arrived.
"Counselor," Picard said as he entered the room. "Does Dr. Crusher know you are here?"
"She gave me a clean bill of health," Deanna smiled. "From what I hear, my presence may be needed."
"He had Captain Creed sacred to death," Riker snickered as a column of light appeared on the platform and coalesced into a man.
Picard immediately felt the power in him. He was short for a man, around five five, and powerfully built with thickly muscled arms and legs. His chest was heavily muscled, his shoulders broad. He had black hair with the tiniest bit of sliver that crested over each ear and fell just past his shoulders. His face sprouted mutton chop whiskers almost to his clean shaven chin. It gave him a wild look Picard associated with pictures of cave men. The mans' eyes stopped him cold. They were icy blue under thick brows. They were old eyes. They were the eyes of a killer. A movement to his side drew his gaze from the stranger. Worf was fidgeting.
Worf knew him. Oh, he didn't know him personally, but he knew his type. He recognized a kindred spirit in this small human immediately. This man was a warrior. He has seen death. He has offered death to his enemies with honor. Worf felt drawn to this man like he had never been drawn to anyone before. This would be an interesting mission.
Deanna Troy was having thoughts that she hadn't had in a while. This man exuded an animal magnetism that she had never felt before. She felt a surge of sexual attraction. Even dressed as he was, in jeans and a plaid shirt, he was sexy as hell. She met his eyes and saw a twinkle in them that gave her the feeling that he knew exactly what she was feeling. She flushed with embarrassment and lowered her eyes.
"Mr Logan," Picard said with a small bow, "I'm Jean Luc Picard, Captain of the Enterprise. May I introduce my senior staff? This is Commander William Riker, my First Officer; Lt. Cmdr Data, my Second Officer; Chief Medical Officer, Beverly Crusher; Chief Engineer, Lt. Cmdr Geordie LaForge; Chief of Security Lt. Worf and ships Counselor Deanna Troy. Welcome aboard."
"Thanks," a gravely voice said, "and it's just Logan."
"I will have Counselor Troy escort you to your quarters," Picard told him.
"Hold on," Logan growled. "I wanted ya here fer a reason. I need ta set yer scents before ya leave the room."
"Excuse me?" Riker asked, confused.
"Didn't tell ya 'bout me, huh?" Logan asked. "I can recognize people by their scent. I need ta set the scents of the senior officers. They'll be the likely ones ta be replaced."
"By what?" Crusher asked, surprised.
"Ya never know," Logan said as he made a circuit of the room, sniffing. He paused briefly at Deanna, gave her a small smile and continued without comment. When he got to Data, he stopped. He took a deeper sniff, turning to the tall android.
"What are ya?" he demanded.
"Mr. Data is an android and a valued member of my crew," Picard warned him. Logan grunted, his eyes suspicious.
When he got to Worf, he once again stopped. "Never liked the smell o' Klingons but they're great brawlers."
"I would be honored to fight you," Worf said respectfully. Logan nodded thoughtfully.
"I'm done, Cap," he said as he turned to Picard.
"Counselor," Picard said.
"Right this way, Logan," she slipped her arm through his.
"Always happy fer the company of a lovely lady," he smiled and they left the transporter room.
Picard turned to his staff after the doors slid closed. "Opinions?"
"That is possibly the most dangerous man I have ever met," Riker said.
"How's that?" Beverly asked. She found him gruff but strangely attractive.
"His eyes," Riker clarified. "He has the most," he stopped, struggling for words.
"Deadly," Worf supplied helpfully.
"Yes," Riker exclaimed. "Thank you. Deadly eyes I have ever seen. He has killed."
"He has been an operative with Star Fleet intelligence for many years," Picard supplied. "I am willing to bet he has done some of the more nasty jobs they needed done."
"He is an honorable man," Worf staunchly insisted. "He has killed, I agree, but only when he had to."
"How do you know that?" LaForge asked.
"I know honor when I see it," Worf told them. "He has a very old soul and has seen much. I would be honored to fight him."
"Worf has always been a good judge of character," LaForge told them. "I think we need to give him the benefit of the doubt."
"Data," Picard turned to him, "you have been strangely silent. Do you have an opinion?"
"I have been accessing his records," Data told him. "He has been an intelligence operative for over fifty years. Prior to that, there is no record of him at all. As to my opinion, I am not human and therefore, not qualified to make a judgment."
"Briefing at 0900 hours," Picard told them as he left, his face troubled.
He wasn't charming, Deanna decided. She wasn't sure why he was affecting her in such a personal way, but she would enjoy it while it lasted. He had a rough way about him that she usually found repugnant, but for some reason she found this man very attractive.
It had been a long time between lovers for her. For some reason, she felt comfortable enough around him to make an offer. She shook her head, 'Down girl,' she thought.
The guest quarters were spacious. Logan was impressed. Enterprise appeared to be a well run and content ship. Her Captain was experienced, battle hardened and difficult to surprise. From what he could observe, the crew worked together like a well oiled machine. He thanked the beautiful ships counselor and excused himself, claiming fatigue.
After she left, he inspected the rooms for bugs and other surveillance equipment. It took him more than two hours but the room was clean except the computer.
"Computer, access Star Fleet intelligence files Logan 16B, password Xavier." His incomplete biography flashed onto the screen. "Who has accessed this file in the past twelve hours?"
"Lt. Cmdr Data and Lt. Worf," the computer replied. He had anticipated that. "Has anyone from outside Enterprise attempted to access this file in the past thirty standard days?"
"Negative."
"Access file Wolverine 19345 Alpha Gamma, password Jubilee." Another file came up and he sat down to work. This was his real file and complete biography. It was hundreds of pages long. Everything he needed to access could be routed through this file. It was activated by his voice only and the code and file number changed every time he opened it.
When Star Fleet called, he had initially refused the assignment. He'd had enough of chasing bad guys around the galaxy and was ready to retire but Admiral Fremont insisted that Logan was the only one who could kill Argon.
That was the assignment. He was to track down and kill Argon. Star Fleet had no hope of rehabilitating the pirate. When Logan had heard the details of the case, he had to agree with Fremont. Anyone else going up against the murderous pirate was going to die.
Fremont didn't know but Argon wasn't the problem. There was a bigger problem on that ship and Logan was the only one who could contain it. He had a fair chance of surviving but it wasn't certain. He was used to those kind of odds.
He closed the file and instructed the computer to delete all mention of his computer use from the logs. Having intelligence credentials came in handy for covering your tracks. He opened the bag the yeoman had brought from the transporter room and unpacked. He pulled several pairs of jeans and a number of plaid shirts out of the bag and placed them neatly in the dresser. Reaching back into the bag, he pulled out a yellow and blue wad of cloth and shook it out. His old costume in contemporary fabric. He didn't know why he kept returning to this costume. Maybe is was the familiarity of the fit or the colors. Fremont said that it was a connection to his past. Maybe he was right.
He reached into the bag and pulled out the one irreplaceable item he owned. It was an old fashioned photograph preserved forever in stasis. He looked much the same in the picture. The same hair, nearly the same clothes but the look in his eyes was very different. In the photograph, he was smiling broadly. He remembered it as one of the happiest days in his life. The main reason was the other subject in the picture. A beautiful, Asian girl of about twenty-five looked adoringly up at his past self. Jubilee, on her birthday and the day he finally admitted to himself that he loved her. She disappeared less than five hours after the photograph was taken.
He had married seven times over the years, more for companionship than love. He had fathered four children from three of them, all daughters. He was fond of most of his wives but they never were able to claim his heart as Jubilee had. Even after four hundred years, he still missed her.
"Aw, Jubes," he sighed, "where did ya go?" A chime came from the door.
"Logan?" he heard Deannas' voice.
"Come in," he said softly.
"I'm sorry to intrude," Deanna said. He looked up at her. She was crying. "You're radiating sorrow so deep that I can't help but feel it. What's wrong?"
"Damn telepaths," he muttered.
"I'm empathic," she corrected. "My mother is Betazoid, my father human."
"I'm sorry to intrude on yer evening," he said as he rose from the bed.
"You're not intruding, but I think you may need someone to talk to." She looked at the picture on the table by the bed. "She's beautiful." A fresh wave of sadness and loss washed over her. "Why does she make you so sad? Who is she?" Deanna directed sympathy and acceptance toward him, encouraging him to vent his feelings. She watched as he carefully picked up the picture and traced the girls' face with a callused finger.
"Her name was Jubilation Lee," he said quietly. "I first met her when she was thirteen, when she saved my butt in Australia. She was my partner and best friend for a long time."
"She meant a lot to you?"
"She meant everythin ta me. When she disappeared, I thought I'd go insane. I looked for her fer ten years but never found her. When Chuck declared her dead, I almost killed him." His voice was rough with grief. It had been so long since he had spoken about Jubilee that the pain of her loss was once again fresh.
"What happened?" she asked as she sat down beside him.
"We had a party fer her twenty-fifth birthday. Jean and Ororo had decorated the mansion in Jubes' favorite colors. There were balloons and streamers everywhere. I bought her a Harley to match mine with a helmet and jacket. We were going ta sneak out and ride off ta Canada after the party. When I went ta get her ta leave, I couldn't find her. I called the others and we started searching. Chuck went ta Cerebro and tried ta find her telepathically. The entire team looked fer a month before Chuck said that he couldn't spare the manpower any more, but the Cajun and I kept looking. Remy gave up after three years but I kept looking. I never found her."
"Did you ask Star Fleet to help?"
"Jubes disappeared in 2008," he whispered.
"But," she gasped. That was over four hundred years ago. How was that possible? Was he a time traveler like Wesley?
"I'm a mutant." he said reading her confusion. "My power is ta heal from almost anything. I don't age."
"What year were you born in?" she asked, afraid of the answer.
"1892, in Canada," he told her. "My parents named me James Howlett and that was the name I went by for the first fifteen years of my life. When my mutation manifested, I left home and became Logan. Been Logan ever since."
Deanna's head was spinning. He was an immortal human, never to die of old age, illness or wounds. He has lived through the most interesting and terrifying periods in history. He saw the advent of space travel from Mercury to the star ships of today. He was walking history. She had so many questions but she couldn't form a coherent sentence to save her life.
"Ya better go, darlin'," he told her. "We have a meetin' with yer Captain in the mornin'." He escorted her to the door and gently pushed her out, flipping the privacy switch as the door closed.
"You didn't tell her everything, Wolverine" a voice said from behind him. Logan spun in a crouch, ready for the attack. When he saw who was standing by the bed, he unfolded himself with a scowl of distaste.
"What are you doing here?" he growled. "I told ya I would call when I was ready."
"Just keeping an eye our for my second favorite human," the entity known as Q said as he picked up the photograph from the table. "Very pretty."
"Put it down," his eyes dangerously narrowed. Any other being would have dropped the picture and run from the room, frightened out of several years growth. Q, however, was not any other being.
"Don't threaten me, my feral friend," Q replied in kind.
"I ain't yer friend. I could just refuse ta do the mission and let ya deal with this on yer own."
Q replaced the photograph on the table. "Let's not be hasty, Wolverine. You know very well I can't interfere."
"The Continuium got ya by the balls, huh?" Q rolled his eyes at the crude euphemism.
"Why haven't you learned the language yet?" he asked.
"Don't want ta," Logan said as he popped a toothpick into his mouth. He had quit smoking 250 years ago when a blight destroyed all the tobacco plants on earth. He still missed it at times. "Why are ya here?"
"Picard and I go way back," Q said as he looked around the cabin. "You have my permission to inform him of the Q's involvement in your mission."
"I was going ta anyway," he jumped into the bed with a bounce. "I don't like anyone ta go into a mission blind. They need ta know what they're dealin' with."
"I don't want them involved, Wolverine. They're your transportation only. They stay out of the action."
"They'll be a target, no matter what. As long as they're in the area, Argon will find 'em."
"Argon isn't the problem."
"I know," Logan said quietly.
"Are you going to be able to do this?"
"I'll do it," he said harshly. "I'm the only one who can."
Q disappeared with a flash of light. Logan could have sworn he saw a look of pity as the omnipotent being vanished. He kicked off his boots and settled down for the night, knowing he would have nightmares that night.