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konstantyaTitle: Façades: A Mirror Universe Story (Chapter 2)
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: AU, drama, adventure.
Characters/pairings: Mirror!Data/Mirror!Tasha.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,017
Summary: In this universe, the Terran Empire didn't fall. A tale revolving around the ISS Enterprise, with Tasha Yar still alive, Data as this century's Casanova, Worf playing for the wrong side, and a one-eyed Wesley Crusher. (Rewrite of this fic, by Pseudo Posthuman.)
All other chapters can be found here.
Chapter 2
"The ISS Stargazer is hailing, Captain," Tasha reported.
"On screen."
A young man appeared on the viewer, bearing a commander's sash but sitting in the captain's chair. A limp, lifeless body lay at his feet. The Stargazer had suffered the brunt of the surprise attack, and it showed on her bridge. The lights were flickering, consoles were sparking, and smoke wafted through the air.
"The Klingons have taken aboard Romulan survivors from this outpost! Our shields are failing and the captain is dead!" As distraught as the commander sounded, his ship shaking from enemy fire, there was a pleased glint in his eye when he relayed his captain's status.
"We'll take over from here," Captain Picard said, ordering Tasha to cut off communications without any chitchat. "Hail the Klingons, audio only."
"Hailing frequencies open."
"This is Captain Picard of the ISS Enterprise. You have entered recently occupied Terran space and stolen our property. Drop your shields and prepare to be boarded."
"The other Terran vessel provoked the Klingon Alliance into action! Do not let this be the case again, Captain. The Romulans have not formally submitted to the Terran Empire!"
The captain scoffed. Will laughed. Klingons—self-proclaimed heroes of the galaxy, who talked so much, and did so little.
"If you will not drop your shields, then we will drop them for you," the captain said. He ordered Tasha to cut off communications and nodded at her.
"Firing torpedoes, full spread."
Will shot a smirk at the captain. "Just a warning shot, sir?"
Picard sniffed. "Barely."
Data's hands danced across the console as he observed each torpedo and the damage they wrought. Most were ineffective against the Klingons' heavily shielded ships, though enough had taken their toll on the vessel. It was unlikely, Data surmised, that the Klingons could withstand an assault from a second Imperial ship.
The Enterprise was jolted back and forth by a flurry of retaliatory fire. Reports flew in from all stations, but most were so minor the captain didn't even pay attention.
"Direct hit. Forward shields holding," Tasha reported. "Returning fire."
"I want those shields obliterated, Lieutenant," the captain growled, clawing the armrests of his chair.
Tasha hesitated. She didn't know how to bring the shields down, but she didn't want to risk the captain's wrath, either. The only other person to notice her hesitation was Data, who quickly whirled around to lend a hand.
"There is a small junction between the main bridge and the bird-of-prey's neck that will cripple the defense systems if struck properly," he said. The captain turned to look at Tasha expectantly, and she immediately set to work looking for such a junction. Data meanwhile, continued to shout instructions over the shaking of the ship.
"Lieutenant…" the captain ground out.
"One moment, sir," she mumbled. The ship jolted violently and a report came over the comm., saying that the warp core had been knocked off-line.
"Lieutenant!"
"I have it, sir!"
She fired an array of torpedoes at the Klingon vessel. Will whirled around, narrowing his eyes at her.
"You were too slow, Lieutenant Yar." An unmistakable threat, for later on, when they were out of the heat of battle.
"The Klingons have lost shields and have hull breaches on decks twenty-five through thirty," Data reported. "I am reading four non-Klingon biosigns—three Romulan, one…" He trailed off uncharacteristically.
"One what, Mr. Data?" Picard snapped.
"I am not certain, sir. The reading resembles Romulan DNA, but not entirely." The ship shook again. "Sir, it seems that the Klingons are not interested in retreating to tend to their shields."
"Target their damaged systems!" Will commanded. "Full spread!"
"Full spre—shit!" Tasha swore as a red light lit up on her console and a warning signal sounded. "Hull breach on deck twelve!"
"They're coming around for another assault, Captain," Wesley reported.
"Yes, I can see that…" The captain seethed, then punched a button on his chair's console. "Mr. La Forge, locate and beam the four Romulans into transporter room three. Lieutenant, have a security detail sent down to meet them there, and—" He was interrupted by the impact of another barrage of Klingon fire. "—have Deanna Troi sent down there."
"Another Klingon vessel approaching from port," Wesley said.
"Target the new arrival! Knock out their weapons immediately!" Will bellowed.
"Aye, sir—" Tasha stopped mid-sentence and mid-fire at another light on her console. "Sir, there's a third Klingon ship tailing the other! They're targeting the Stargazer!"
"Leave them; they're gone anyway." Will turned to the captain for approval. Picard nodded. "Take us behind the Stargazer, Ensign Crusher, and use her for cover."
"Sir, the Stargazer is hailing—"
"Ignore. Fire at the damaged Klingon vessel."
"They took heavy casualties in that last attack, Captain. Their weapons are offline and their shields are failing."
"The third Klingon vessel is coming about around the Stargazer," Data reported. He glanced over his shoulder to offer another suggestion, not put off by the captain's angry glare as other officers might have been. "We could take hostages before we destroy the—"
"That won't be necessary," Tasha cut in. "The damaged vessel has a warp core breach, and we just lost twenty percent of our aft shielding."
"Lieutenant, beam as many Klingons as possible from the damaged ship into cargo bay three, and have Mr. La Forge erect a level three force-field around it," Captain Picard ordered. The ship shook violently again, almost throwing him out of his seat, and he added, "And get this ship out of their fire! Behind the Stargazer, Mr. Crusher!"
Wesley's hands moved faster than he would have thought possible, bringing the Enterprise around the Stargazer again, letting the smaller ship take most of the fire.
"Thirty-five Klingons are aboard, sir. Commander La Forge is down there, with another security detail," Tasha reported. "The two other vessels are concentrating their fire on our reactor now."
"Ensign, bring us about. Lieutenant, prepare to destroy the adrift ship," Will ordered.
Worf's ship, one of his oldest commands, was shot apart and scattered across the battlefield right in front of the other ships' faces. The captain reclined back in his chair and called for the Klingons to be hailed. Tasha replied that frequencies were open, audio only.
"We have taken thirty-five Klingons hostage in one of our cargo bays. Stand down or we will blow the bay doors open and spread their filthy carcasses across your hull."
"Captain Picard, I presume? Well, I do enjoy a bit of talk after all that gunfire. Your ship puts up an impressive fight, but you will not succeed." The Klingon captain barked out on order in his own language, and the faint sound of an alert was heard over the channel.
Data tapped at his console. "They have attached a tractor beam to the Stargazer, sir. Her structural integrity is holding, though she cannot withstand much more stress."
"They're playing us at our own game," Wesley said.
"Shut up, Ensign," Will hissed. The boy bowed his head and mumbled an apology.
"Now, Captain, shall we discuss this? We can arrange an exchange." The Klingon laughed at his own poetry. Captain Picard scoffed in disgust and ordered the line muted.
He didn't care much about the Stargazer. She was a weaker, older vessel that shouldn't have been anywhere near the Klingons, and should have called for help long before she did. Such stupidity, in Picard's eyes, deserved to be punished. There wasn't much consideration needed, and there wasn't much protest he would receive from his crew—there was only the subtle detail of how to deal with the situation at hand.
The captain rubbed his chin. "Mr. Data, is there a way to destroy the Klingon vessel by destroying the Stargazer? Any kind of feedback pulse?"
Data frowned. "Yes, sir, I believe so. We can—"
"Leave out the details, Mr. Data," snapped Will. "Just do it!"
Data looked at the captain and hesitated for a moment, unsure of his orders. But when Will stood up and tugged his uniform down, the android wasted no time in implementing them. Not that Commander Riker, a mere human, posed much of physical threat to him—but an order was an order. He stepped up to tactical, beside Tasha, leaning over her shoulder and poking at the controls. She folded her arms in irritation; not only had he given her unsolicited help before, but now he was outright taking over her job.
Once the modifications were complete, Data pulled back, his cheek lightly brushing hers. Tasha froze at the contact, his report lost on her, and it wasn't until he was half-way back to his station that she returned to reality. She shuddered, her face heating up in a combination of anger and embarrassment.
"Get me the Klingons again," the captain said, pulling his sash down tighter and trying to wipe away his ear-to-ear grin.
The Klingon's bass-low voice rumbled through the bridge. "You seem to have taken your time, Captain Picard."
"We had to discuss our situation," lied the captain. "Our decision has been made; however, I would like to ask you, Captain…"
"Moklor. A name you won't soon forget, Picard."
"Yes, of course. I was just wondering…" The captain stroked his chin in thought, a sadistic smile crossing his face. "How many Klingons does it take to cover a parsec?"
"What?"
"Now, Lieutenant!"
Tasha hit one single command on the console. On screen, the Stargazer burst into a cosmic artwork of blue and red. The shockwave shot through the tractor beam and blasted through the top of the bird-of-prey's bridge, sending hull fragments and Klingon officers across the battlefield. Soon enough, the entire ship exploded, the force of the destruction sending the last Klingon vessel careening sideways. The Enterprise rocked with the shockwave's impact, and once it had dissipated, Will stood up, grinning triumphantly.
"Status?"
Tasha checked her console. "No major damage, sir."
"I assume we have enough power to destroy an adrift bird-of-prey?"
Tasha grinned. "Aye, sir. More than enough."
Of course, there would be some sort of violent, valiant retaliation from the Klingon High Command after this. Some pathetic resistance, a tiny fleet of vessels sent sailing into Terran-occupied Romulan space. But the future, as it were, often didn't matter. The actions of the Empire ran off the present, with very little consideration for after-effects. After all, if the Terran Empire stopped to think, they wouldn't be such a powerful force in the Alpha Quadrant. Conquest was impulse enough.
The captain stood. "Commander Riker, you have the bridge. Commander Data, Lieutenant Yar—transporter room." He waved at his officers, and they followed him into the turbolift, Data with particular eagerness. He was quite curious to see the Romulans they had picked off the ship. And quite curious to see what Deanna Troi had already done to them.
---
Deanna Troi had no official position on the ship, only a rank—well, and a reputation, but that was far too explicit for words. Unlike most women in the Imperial Fleet, she didn't wear the standard midriff style uniform; instead she wore a custom ensemble of black leather and vinyl, skin-tight and plunging low on her chest. Deanna, petite in frame and beautiful in face, hardly looked like much of a threat—but her cruelty came in the form of her invasive psychic powers. She'd already gone through the Romulans in the transporter room, and instructed Geordi to keep the Klingon crew in darkness until she arrived. She liked Klingons; they were so easy to irritate.
The only person she showed the slightest hint of mercy to was the young boy that had been beamed aboard—far too pale to be a Romulan, though he had the pointed ears of the species. She bluntly asked him his name, but he gave no reply, instead casting his eyes toward the floor. Deanna was an empath, a strong one even though she was only half-Betazoid, and even she had trouble reading the boy. She was sure the doctor could find something out about him.
Captain Picard walked in with Data and Tasha behind him. The security chief firmly held her phaser in hand, and the captain surveyed the captured Romulans, looking over to Deanna for a report. The Betazoid folded her arms.
"I told the security team they weren't needed here. The Romulans are weak as ever, and the boy…" Deanna shrugged. "I don't feel much from him. He's very shielded for one so young."
"And the Klingons?"
Deanna laughed. "Stubborn as ever. They're very determined after being attacked, but I'm sure we can extract any information we need."
"We don't need any," the captain said. "I just don't want them with our property." He turned to Tasha, and nodded his head towards the Romulans—who were currently kneeling on the floor, with their hands behind their heads. "Have them executed, Lieutenant."
Tasha nodded, and went forward, urging the three Romulans up with her phaser. They hesitated for a moment—until she pulled back her phaser, silently threatening to pistol-whip them if they didn't comply. They scurried to their feet, hands still behind their heads, trying to show no sign of emotion as Tasha led them away, even though they knew they were suddenly walking down the corridors of death row.
Data, meanwhile, had been busy scanning the boy, and now spoke with some bemusement. "His life signs register as both Romulan and El-Aurian, Captain—though there are some anomalies in his DNA which I cannot explain. Nor can I determine his age." He closed his tricorder and looked up. "Perhaps the doctor will have more luck with her examination."
Deanna laughed again, a bubbly sound that bordered on eerie. "You mean with her dissection."
Data tilted his head at that. "Captain, I must remind you, he is a child—"
"I can see that, Mr. Data," the captain snapped. "Well? What would you have me do with him? You, Mr. Data, are the only crew member to show any…interest in this boy. If you wish to keep him alive in order to solve his identity, then he will be your responsibility. That will take up your time, require your attention…" The captain trailed off, tapping his chin in thought. "Forget it—have the doctor slice up his DNA until we find a—"
"Captain, I must protest," the android said. Picard glared at the interruption, Deanna looked shocked, but Data didn't bat an eyelash. "I believe he could be useful if he talks. And considering his peculiar mix of species, it is possible that he could be of great use to the Empire."
The captain eyed him suspiciously. "Is this an act of compassion, Mr. Data?"
"No, sir. I was not programmed with compassion."
The captain stared at him for a moment longer, and then grudgingly acquiesced. "Very well, Mr. Data. He is now your responsibility—but keep in mind, I don't like children. Keep him under control or I will have him sent to Dr. Crusher immediately. And Mr. Data," he added, "give him a name."
The android's brow furrowed. He wasn't very good with names—Geordi had named his dog, Spike, and he had never found it necessary to name anything else in his life. He looked at the boy, who still remained as passive as ever, as if this might help.
"Can we leave now, Commander?" the captain asked impatiently. Data filed away the thoughts for later and nodded. "Let's see what the Klingons have to say…"
Captain Picard led the way, and Data moved to follow, but the boy stayed firmly where he was. Data hesitated, unsure of what action to take—under any other circumstances, he would simply take the person's arm and forcibly drag them along the corridors if necessary, but a child?
Deanna, it turned out, saved him the trouble of deciding by grabbing the back of the boy's shirt and shoving him along. "Move, you little brat," she ordered, and it was apparently enough to convince the boy to trail along, behind Data's heels.
The Klingons were waiting restlessly in their make-shift prison. Worf in particular stood near the door, pacing back and forth with a great scowl on his face. There were dents in his armor and a cut across his forehead ridges, and when Captain Picard arrived, he turned to him with a vicious sneer.
"You dare to show your face behind a force-field?" he demanded. "Step in here, Captain, and let us discuss your actions."
"What, are you the town sheriff?" Deanna scoffed. "I'm reading a high level of nervousness in this Klingon, Captain. He's unsure, afraid… Definitely a Klingon," she mocked. Worf stepped forward with a growl.
"Return the boy to us!" he demanded. "You have no jurisdiction over him!"
"Klingons," the captain sighed with a shake of his head. "Always playing the hero… At the moment, you're in no position to be making any demands. I could blow you and your crew out of this cargo bay with a mere nod at my engineer here. How would you like that?"
"Better than living in a cage!" another Klingon bellowed from behind Worf. A roar of agreement rang out from the other warriors.
"Then we'll keep you here," Captain Picard said. A smile tugged at his mouth. "I hear they have a new set of prison camps on the arctic continent of Proxima Centauri… Perhaps we should transfer you there. Klingons like the cold, don't they?"
Worf sneered again. "Do as you please, coward; the Klingon Alliance will never give in to such a despicable species such as your own. Any enemy of the Terran Empire is a friend of ours, and that, Captain, bears far more weight than your entire empire put together."
"Such brave words for such stupid animals," Picard muttered. He folded his arms. "Mr. La Forge, flood the cargo bay with your drug of choice until the Klingons are asleep. I find their roars tiresome."
The engineer removed an access panel and quickly, efficiently, administered high doses of gas through the air vents. The Klingons looked around, half in confusion and half in anger, trying not to cough as the gas entered their lungs. Despite their valiant efforts, their eyelids grew heavy and their hearing grew fuzzy before they finally collapsed in upon each other like a set of dominoes.
Captain Picard tutted in disappointment, and then turned to the woman next to him. "Take as many as you like, Deanna. We haven't got a psychiatric review of the Klingons yet, and I'm sure Dr. Crusher would be more than willing to help."
Deanna's black eyes seemed to darken even more, and she smiled indulgently. She nodded towards Geordi, who lowered the force-field, and then she stepped into the room, looking for a likely candidate. The largest one, perhaps. Deanna was positively giddy; she had never tortured a Klingon before. Rumor had it they were the hardest to break.
The captain turned to his remaining officers. "Mr. Data, get that child out of my sight. Mr. La Forge, you will remain here until Deanna is finished." And with that, he stalked off.
Data turned back to Geordi, who was eyeing him curiously. "You get programmed with parenting skills or something?" he asked, glancing down at the boy.
"No," Data admitted. "However, wasting young life such as his is illogical. With enough work, he could be a vital asset to the Empire."
Geordi shook his head skeptically. "They've never had kids on warships…"
"As you have told me before, Geordi, there is a first time for everything." He gestured for the boy to follow him, and began to make his way down the corridor. It was going to be an interesting experience, if nothing else.
---
Tasha touched her collarbone and winced in pain. She sat at the back of Ten Forward by herself, going over some reports which would probably never be read. That was just the way things were on this ship—informal. When they weren't rigidly, destructively authoritative, that was.
Mostly, despite how trivial and ultimately useless they were, the reports were just a way to calm her anger and get her mind off of the after-effects of the day's events. Data had shown her up twice on the bridge, and after a small shouting match with Commander Riker, she now had a bruised collarbone and a black eye. Destructive authority in action, that. At least she'd managed to not retaliate this time around.
When Data walked in, that silly little boy trailing behind him, she sighed and buried her head in her arms. It just figured that he would take on the futile, stupid task of looking after a child. The kid would be dead within a week. Data wasn't exactly prime parental material; he was simply looking for some logical way the boy could help the Empire.
He'd noticed her in the corner, and Tasha bristled when he came over to her table. "Are you done showing me up for the day, Commander?" The boy stood beside him, still not speaking, passive as ever.
"Showing you up?" he queried.
"Yeah, showing me up. Like you did on the bridge. Riker nearly made me a mirror image of One-Eyed Wesley."
Data was unaffected. "You do realize that had I not spoken up, Commander Riker would have been far angrier."
"At least I wouldn't look like a fresh cadet during her first week of camp," she shot back. "I'm sorry we're not all as fully functional as you."
He cocked his head at her choice of phrasing, and she swore the smallest of smirks was playing across his lips. Deferentially, he asked, "Can I make it up to you in some way?"
Tasha swallowed, suddenly aware that she had stepped into dangerous territory. Data was, by all outward appearances, a gentleman—but at his core, he was completely amoral, and more often than not, his polite gestures held ulterior motives. Superior strength and mental capabilities only played a tiny part in the android's games; he was far more apt to rely on manipulation, even seduction. It was frighteningly human behavior for a machine.
She managed to push a dismissive breath out of her nose and drop her eyes back to her PADD. "So what's with him?" she asked, jerking her chin over at the boy, effectively changing the subject. "You know children don't belong on warships."
Data lowered himself into the chair across from her and folded his hands on the table. The boy remained standing at his side. "I do not believe he will be any trouble. In any case, he will be staying with me." Data paused in thought. "The captain told me to give him a name, but I cannot think of any."
"Well, why don't you ask him what his name is?"
"He will not speak."
Tasha leaned forward to get a closer look at the boy, noticing a necklace tucked into his shirt. She pulled it out and took it in her hand, reading out a string of numbers from a metal tag. The boy simply looked confused. Tasha turned the tag over—half of it was burnt and unreadable, but she could make out a couple Romulan characters, and turned to show it to Data.
"What little is decipherable would be read as 'Sin,' " he translated.
Tasha shrugged, dropping the necklace back onto the boy's chest. "Maybe that would work?"
Data considered this. "I suppose it will have to, for now." The boy silently tucked the necklace back into his shirt. Data stood. "I think it would be best if I show him where he will be staying."
"Yeah, whatever," Tasha said. She was back to trying to concentrate on her reports, and had obviously had enough of his presence.
Without any parting pleasantries, he walked off. Sin, as he was now known, followed. Data knew he had brought unnecessary punishment upon Tasha for being a 'smart ass,' as some would have put it, but the simple fact was, he wasn't programmed to care.
-----
All other fics can be found here.
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: AU, drama, adventure.
Characters/pairings: Mirror!Data/Mirror!Tasha.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,017
Summary: In this universe, the Terran Empire didn't fall. A tale revolving around the ISS Enterprise, with Tasha Yar still alive, Data as this century's Casanova, Worf playing for the wrong side, and a one-eyed Wesley Crusher. (Rewrite of this fic, by Pseudo Posthuman.)
All other chapters can be found here.
- Façades: A Mirror Universe Story -
originally by Pseudo Posthuman
originally by Pseudo Posthuman
Chapter 2
"The ISS Stargazer is hailing, Captain," Tasha reported.
"On screen."
A young man appeared on the viewer, bearing a commander's sash but sitting in the captain's chair. A limp, lifeless body lay at his feet. The Stargazer had suffered the brunt of the surprise attack, and it showed on her bridge. The lights were flickering, consoles were sparking, and smoke wafted through the air.
"The Klingons have taken aboard Romulan survivors from this outpost! Our shields are failing and the captain is dead!" As distraught as the commander sounded, his ship shaking from enemy fire, there was a pleased glint in his eye when he relayed his captain's status.
"We'll take over from here," Captain Picard said, ordering Tasha to cut off communications without any chitchat. "Hail the Klingons, audio only."
"Hailing frequencies open."
"This is Captain Picard of the ISS Enterprise. You have entered recently occupied Terran space and stolen our property. Drop your shields and prepare to be boarded."
"The other Terran vessel provoked the Klingon Alliance into action! Do not let this be the case again, Captain. The Romulans have not formally submitted to the Terran Empire!"
The captain scoffed. Will laughed. Klingons—self-proclaimed heroes of the galaxy, who talked so much, and did so little.
"If you will not drop your shields, then we will drop them for you," the captain said. He ordered Tasha to cut off communications and nodded at her.
"Firing torpedoes, full spread."
Will shot a smirk at the captain. "Just a warning shot, sir?"
Picard sniffed. "Barely."
Data's hands danced across the console as he observed each torpedo and the damage they wrought. Most were ineffective against the Klingons' heavily shielded ships, though enough had taken their toll on the vessel. It was unlikely, Data surmised, that the Klingons could withstand an assault from a second Imperial ship.
The Enterprise was jolted back and forth by a flurry of retaliatory fire. Reports flew in from all stations, but most were so minor the captain didn't even pay attention.
"Direct hit. Forward shields holding," Tasha reported. "Returning fire."
"I want those shields obliterated, Lieutenant," the captain growled, clawing the armrests of his chair.
Tasha hesitated. She didn't know how to bring the shields down, but she didn't want to risk the captain's wrath, either. The only other person to notice her hesitation was Data, who quickly whirled around to lend a hand.
"There is a small junction between the main bridge and the bird-of-prey's neck that will cripple the defense systems if struck properly," he said. The captain turned to look at Tasha expectantly, and she immediately set to work looking for such a junction. Data meanwhile, continued to shout instructions over the shaking of the ship.
"Lieutenant…" the captain ground out.
"One moment, sir," she mumbled. The ship jolted violently and a report came over the comm., saying that the warp core had been knocked off-line.
"Lieutenant!"
"I have it, sir!"
She fired an array of torpedoes at the Klingon vessel. Will whirled around, narrowing his eyes at her.
"You were too slow, Lieutenant Yar." An unmistakable threat, for later on, when they were out of the heat of battle.
"The Klingons have lost shields and have hull breaches on decks twenty-five through thirty," Data reported. "I am reading four non-Klingon biosigns—three Romulan, one…" He trailed off uncharacteristically.
"One what, Mr. Data?" Picard snapped.
"I am not certain, sir. The reading resembles Romulan DNA, but not entirely." The ship shook again. "Sir, it seems that the Klingons are not interested in retreating to tend to their shields."
"Target their damaged systems!" Will commanded. "Full spread!"
"Full spre—shit!" Tasha swore as a red light lit up on her console and a warning signal sounded. "Hull breach on deck twelve!"
"They're coming around for another assault, Captain," Wesley reported.
"Yes, I can see that…" The captain seethed, then punched a button on his chair's console. "Mr. La Forge, locate and beam the four Romulans into transporter room three. Lieutenant, have a security detail sent down to meet them there, and—" He was interrupted by the impact of another barrage of Klingon fire. "—have Deanna Troi sent down there."
"Another Klingon vessel approaching from port," Wesley said.
"Target the new arrival! Knock out their weapons immediately!" Will bellowed.
"Aye, sir—" Tasha stopped mid-sentence and mid-fire at another light on her console. "Sir, there's a third Klingon ship tailing the other! They're targeting the Stargazer!"
"Leave them; they're gone anyway." Will turned to the captain for approval. Picard nodded. "Take us behind the Stargazer, Ensign Crusher, and use her for cover."
"Sir, the Stargazer is hailing—"
"Ignore. Fire at the damaged Klingon vessel."
"They took heavy casualties in that last attack, Captain. Their weapons are offline and their shields are failing."
"The third Klingon vessel is coming about around the Stargazer," Data reported. He glanced over his shoulder to offer another suggestion, not put off by the captain's angry glare as other officers might have been. "We could take hostages before we destroy the—"
"That won't be necessary," Tasha cut in. "The damaged vessel has a warp core breach, and we just lost twenty percent of our aft shielding."
"Lieutenant, beam as many Klingons as possible from the damaged ship into cargo bay three, and have Mr. La Forge erect a level three force-field around it," Captain Picard ordered. The ship shook violently again, almost throwing him out of his seat, and he added, "And get this ship out of their fire! Behind the Stargazer, Mr. Crusher!"
Wesley's hands moved faster than he would have thought possible, bringing the Enterprise around the Stargazer again, letting the smaller ship take most of the fire.
"Thirty-five Klingons are aboard, sir. Commander La Forge is down there, with another security detail," Tasha reported. "The two other vessels are concentrating their fire on our reactor now."
"Ensign, bring us about. Lieutenant, prepare to destroy the adrift ship," Will ordered.
Worf's ship, one of his oldest commands, was shot apart and scattered across the battlefield right in front of the other ships' faces. The captain reclined back in his chair and called for the Klingons to be hailed. Tasha replied that frequencies were open, audio only.
"We have taken thirty-five Klingons hostage in one of our cargo bays. Stand down or we will blow the bay doors open and spread their filthy carcasses across your hull."
"Captain Picard, I presume? Well, I do enjoy a bit of talk after all that gunfire. Your ship puts up an impressive fight, but you will not succeed." The Klingon captain barked out on order in his own language, and the faint sound of an alert was heard over the channel.
Data tapped at his console. "They have attached a tractor beam to the Stargazer, sir. Her structural integrity is holding, though she cannot withstand much more stress."
"They're playing us at our own game," Wesley said.
"Shut up, Ensign," Will hissed. The boy bowed his head and mumbled an apology.
"Now, Captain, shall we discuss this? We can arrange an exchange." The Klingon laughed at his own poetry. Captain Picard scoffed in disgust and ordered the line muted.
He didn't care much about the Stargazer. She was a weaker, older vessel that shouldn't have been anywhere near the Klingons, and should have called for help long before she did. Such stupidity, in Picard's eyes, deserved to be punished. There wasn't much consideration needed, and there wasn't much protest he would receive from his crew—there was only the subtle detail of how to deal with the situation at hand.
The captain rubbed his chin. "Mr. Data, is there a way to destroy the Klingon vessel by destroying the Stargazer? Any kind of feedback pulse?"
Data frowned. "Yes, sir, I believe so. We can—"
"Leave out the details, Mr. Data," snapped Will. "Just do it!"
Data looked at the captain and hesitated for a moment, unsure of his orders. But when Will stood up and tugged his uniform down, the android wasted no time in implementing them. Not that Commander Riker, a mere human, posed much of physical threat to him—but an order was an order. He stepped up to tactical, beside Tasha, leaning over her shoulder and poking at the controls. She folded her arms in irritation; not only had he given her unsolicited help before, but now he was outright taking over her job.
Once the modifications were complete, Data pulled back, his cheek lightly brushing hers. Tasha froze at the contact, his report lost on her, and it wasn't until he was half-way back to his station that she returned to reality. She shuddered, her face heating up in a combination of anger and embarrassment.
"Get me the Klingons again," the captain said, pulling his sash down tighter and trying to wipe away his ear-to-ear grin.
The Klingon's bass-low voice rumbled through the bridge. "You seem to have taken your time, Captain Picard."
"We had to discuss our situation," lied the captain. "Our decision has been made; however, I would like to ask you, Captain…"
"Moklor. A name you won't soon forget, Picard."
"Yes, of course. I was just wondering…" The captain stroked his chin in thought, a sadistic smile crossing his face. "How many Klingons does it take to cover a parsec?"
"What?"
"Now, Lieutenant!"
Tasha hit one single command on the console. On screen, the Stargazer burst into a cosmic artwork of blue and red. The shockwave shot through the tractor beam and blasted through the top of the bird-of-prey's bridge, sending hull fragments and Klingon officers across the battlefield. Soon enough, the entire ship exploded, the force of the destruction sending the last Klingon vessel careening sideways. The Enterprise rocked with the shockwave's impact, and once it had dissipated, Will stood up, grinning triumphantly.
"Status?"
Tasha checked her console. "No major damage, sir."
"I assume we have enough power to destroy an adrift bird-of-prey?"
Tasha grinned. "Aye, sir. More than enough."
Of course, there would be some sort of violent, valiant retaliation from the Klingon High Command after this. Some pathetic resistance, a tiny fleet of vessels sent sailing into Terran-occupied Romulan space. But the future, as it were, often didn't matter. The actions of the Empire ran off the present, with very little consideration for after-effects. After all, if the Terran Empire stopped to think, they wouldn't be such a powerful force in the Alpha Quadrant. Conquest was impulse enough.
The captain stood. "Commander Riker, you have the bridge. Commander Data, Lieutenant Yar—transporter room." He waved at his officers, and they followed him into the turbolift, Data with particular eagerness. He was quite curious to see the Romulans they had picked off the ship. And quite curious to see what Deanna Troi had already done to them.
Deanna Troi had no official position on the ship, only a rank—well, and a reputation, but that was far too explicit for words. Unlike most women in the Imperial Fleet, she didn't wear the standard midriff style uniform; instead she wore a custom ensemble of black leather and vinyl, skin-tight and plunging low on her chest. Deanna, petite in frame and beautiful in face, hardly looked like much of a threat—but her cruelty came in the form of her invasive psychic powers. She'd already gone through the Romulans in the transporter room, and instructed Geordi to keep the Klingon crew in darkness until she arrived. She liked Klingons; they were so easy to irritate.
The only person she showed the slightest hint of mercy to was the young boy that had been beamed aboard—far too pale to be a Romulan, though he had the pointed ears of the species. She bluntly asked him his name, but he gave no reply, instead casting his eyes toward the floor. Deanna was an empath, a strong one even though she was only half-Betazoid, and even she had trouble reading the boy. She was sure the doctor could find something out about him.
Captain Picard walked in with Data and Tasha behind him. The security chief firmly held her phaser in hand, and the captain surveyed the captured Romulans, looking over to Deanna for a report. The Betazoid folded her arms.
"I told the security team they weren't needed here. The Romulans are weak as ever, and the boy…" Deanna shrugged. "I don't feel much from him. He's very shielded for one so young."
"And the Klingons?"
Deanna laughed. "Stubborn as ever. They're very determined after being attacked, but I'm sure we can extract any information we need."
"We don't need any," the captain said. "I just don't want them with our property." He turned to Tasha, and nodded his head towards the Romulans—who were currently kneeling on the floor, with their hands behind their heads. "Have them executed, Lieutenant."
Tasha nodded, and went forward, urging the three Romulans up with her phaser. They hesitated for a moment—until she pulled back her phaser, silently threatening to pistol-whip them if they didn't comply. They scurried to their feet, hands still behind their heads, trying to show no sign of emotion as Tasha led them away, even though they knew they were suddenly walking down the corridors of death row.
Data, meanwhile, had been busy scanning the boy, and now spoke with some bemusement. "His life signs register as both Romulan and El-Aurian, Captain—though there are some anomalies in his DNA which I cannot explain. Nor can I determine his age." He closed his tricorder and looked up. "Perhaps the doctor will have more luck with her examination."
Deanna laughed again, a bubbly sound that bordered on eerie. "You mean with her dissection."
Data tilted his head at that. "Captain, I must remind you, he is a child—"
"I can see that, Mr. Data," the captain snapped. "Well? What would you have me do with him? You, Mr. Data, are the only crew member to show any…interest in this boy. If you wish to keep him alive in order to solve his identity, then he will be your responsibility. That will take up your time, require your attention…" The captain trailed off, tapping his chin in thought. "Forget it—have the doctor slice up his DNA until we find a—"
"Captain, I must protest," the android said. Picard glared at the interruption, Deanna looked shocked, but Data didn't bat an eyelash. "I believe he could be useful if he talks. And considering his peculiar mix of species, it is possible that he could be of great use to the Empire."
The captain eyed him suspiciously. "Is this an act of compassion, Mr. Data?"
"No, sir. I was not programmed with compassion."
The captain stared at him for a moment longer, and then grudgingly acquiesced. "Very well, Mr. Data. He is now your responsibility—but keep in mind, I don't like children. Keep him under control or I will have him sent to Dr. Crusher immediately. And Mr. Data," he added, "give him a name."
The android's brow furrowed. He wasn't very good with names—Geordi had named his dog, Spike, and he had never found it necessary to name anything else in his life. He looked at the boy, who still remained as passive as ever, as if this might help.
"Can we leave now, Commander?" the captain asked impatiently. Data filed away the thoughts for later and nodded. "Let's see what the Klingons have to say…"
Captain Picard led the way, and Data moved to follow, but the boy stayed firmly where he was. Data hesitated, unsure of what action to take—under any other circumstances, he would simply take the person's arm and forcibly drag them along the corridors if necessary, but a child?
Deanna, it turned out, saved him the trouble of deciding by grabbing the back of the boy's shirt and shoving him along. "Move, you little brat," she ordered, and it was apparently enough to convince the boy to trail along, behind Data's heels.
The Klingons were waiting restlessly in their make-shift prison. Worf in particular stood near the door, pacing back and forth with a great scowl on his face. There were dents in his armor and a cut across his forehead ridges, and when Captain Picard arrived, he turned to him with a vicious sneer.
"You dare to show your face behind a force-field?" he demanded. "Step in here, Captain, and let us discuss your actions."
"What, are you the town sheriff?" Deanna scoffed. "I'm reading a high level of nervousness in this Klingon, Captain. He's unsure, afraid… Definitely a Klingon," she mocked. Worf stepped forward with a growl.
"Return the boy to us!" he demanded. "You have no jurisdiction over him!"
"Klingons," the captain sighed with a shake of his head. "Always playing the hero… At the moment, you're in no position to be making any demands. I could blow you and your crew out of this cargo bay with a mere nod at my engineer here. How would you like that?"
"Better than living in a cage!" another Klingon bellowed from behind Worf. A roar of agreement rang out from the other warriors.
"Then we'll keep you here," Captain Picard said. A smile tugged at his mouth. "I hear they have a new set of prison camps on the arctic continent of Proxima Centauri… Perhaps we should transfer you there. Klingons like the cold, don't they?"
Worf sneered again. "Do as you please, coward; the Klingon Alliance will never give in to such a despicable species such as your own. Any enemy of the Terran Empire is a friend of ours, and that, Captain, bears far more weight than your entire empire put together."
"Such brave words for such stupid animals," Picard muttered. He folded his arms. "Mr. La Forge, flood the cargo bay with your drug of choice until the Klingons are asleep. I find their roars tiresome."
The engineer removed an access panel and quickly, efficiently, administered high doses of gas through the air vents. The Klingons looked around, half in confusion and half in anger, trying not to cough as the gas entered their lungs. Despite their valiant efforts, their eyelids grew heavy and their hearing grew fuzzy before they finally collapsed in upon each other like a set of dominoes.
Captain Picard tutted in disappointment, and then turned to the woman next to him. "Take as many as you like, Deanna. We haven't got a psychiatric review of the Klingons yet, and I'm sure Dr. Crusher would be more than willing to help."
Deanna's black eyes seemed to darken even more, and she smiled indulgently. She nodded towards Geordi, who lowered the force-field, and then she stepped into the room, looking for a likely candidate. The largest one, perhaps. Deanna was positively giddy; she had never tortured a Klingon before. Rumor had it they were the hardest to break.
The captain turned to his remaining officers. "Mr. Data, get that child out of my sight. Mr. La Forge, you will remain here until Deanna is finished." And with that, he stalked off.
Data turned back to Geordi, who was eyeing him curiously. "You get programmed with parenting skills or something?" he asked, glancing down at the boy.
"No," Data admitted. "However, wasting young life such as his is illogical. With enough work, he could be a vital asset to the Empire."
Geordi shook his head skeptically. "They've never had kids on warships…"
"As you have told me before, Geordi, there is a first time for everything." He gestured for the boy to follow him, and began to make his way down the corridor. It was going to be an interesting experience, if nothing else.
Tasha touched her collarbone and winced in pain. She sat at the back of Ten Forward by herself, going over some reports which would probably never be read. That was just the way things were on this ship—informal. When they weren't rigidly, destructively authoritative, that was.
Mostly, despite how trivial and ultimately useless they were, the reports were just a way to calm her anger and get her mind off of the after-effects of the day's events. Data had shown her up twice on the bridge, and after a small shouting match with Commander Riker, she now had a bruised collarbone and a black eye. Destructive authority in action, that. At least she'd managed to not retaliate this time around.
When Data walked in, that silly little boy trailing behind him, she sighed and buried her head in her arms. It just figured that he would take on the futile, stupid task of looking after a child. The kid would be dead within a week. Data wasn't exactly prime parental material; he was simply looking for some logical way the boy could help the Empire.
He'd noticed her in the corner, and Tasha bristled when he came over to her table. "Are you done showing me up for the day, Commander?" The boy stood beside him, still not speaking, passive as ever.
"Showing you up?" he queried.
"Yeah, showing me up. Like you did on the bridge. Riker nearly made me a mirror image of One-Eyed Wesley."
Data was unaffected. "You do realize that had I not spoken up, Commander Riker would have been far angrier."
"At least I wouldn't look like a fresh cadet during her first week of camp," she shot back. "I'm sorry we're not all as fully functional as you."
He cocked his head at her choice of phrasing, and she swore the smallest of smirks was playing across his lips. Deferentially, he asked, "Can I make it up to you in some way?"
Tasha swallowed, suddenly aware that she had stepped into dangerous territory. Data was, by all outward appearances, a gentleman—but at his core, he was completely amoral, and more often than not, his polite gestures held ulterior motives. Superior strength and mental capabilities only played a tiny part in the android's games; he was far more apt to rely on manipulation, even seduction. It was frighteningly human behavior for a machine.
She managed to push a dismissive breath out of her nose and drop her eyes back to her PADD. "So what's with him?" she asked, jerking her chin over at the boy, effectively changing the subject. "You know children don't belong on warships."
Data lowered himself into the chair across from her and folded his hands on the table. The boy remained standing at his side. "I do not believe he will be any trouble. In any case, he will be staying with me." Data paused in thought. "The captain told me to give him a name, but I cannot think of any."
"Well, why don't you ask him what his name is?"
"He will not speak."
Tasha leaned forward to get a closer look at the boy, noticing a necklace tucked into his shirt. She pulled it out and took it in her hand, reading out a string of numbers from a metal tag. The boy simply looked confused. Tasha turned the tag over—half of it was burnt and unreadable, but she could make out a couple Romulan characters, and turned to show it to Data.
"What little is decipherable would be read as 'Sin,' " he translated.
Tasha shrugged, dropping the necklace back onto the boy's chest. "Maybe that would work?"
Data considered this. "I suppose it will have to, for now." The boy silently tucked the necklace back into his shirt. Data stood. "I think it would be best if I show him where he will be staying."
"Yeah, whatever," Tasha said. She was back to trying to concentrate on her reports, and had obviously had enough of his presence.
Without any parting pleasantries, he walked off. Sin, as he was now known, followed. Data knew he had brought unnecessary punishment upon Tasha for being a 'smart ass,' as some would have put it, but the simple fact was, he wasn't programmed to care.
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