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konstantyaTitle: Façades: A Mirror Universe Story (Chapter 4)
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: AU, drama, adventure.
Characters/pairings: Mirror!Data/Mirror!Tasha.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,705
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 4
The Captain sat in his ready room, resting with a cup of the ship's finest coffee on his desk and a data PADD with Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus in his hand. The ship was scheduled to dock at the Imperial prison planet Proxima, to drop off the rest of the Klingons and in turn, to gather some supplies. Picard was more concerned about his payment from the Orions, though he was sure Lieutenant Yar and Lieutenant Commander Data could handle it.
That damn android and his boy… It would have been much easier if they had simply left the child on some M class planet, amongst wild creatures—after all, most children were wild creatures themselves. Data had almost sounded like that Klingon captain, Worf, for a moment—like some silly, selfless Robin Hood. Except Data was something significantly more intelligent and useful than a Klingon.
The captain sighed and placed the PADD down. What a creature Data was… Magnificently gifted and yet horribly cursed, whose cruelty superseded anything the Empire had done, and whose kindness superseded anything the Romulans were capable of.
That damn android.
---
Data scrambled like wildfire. He dragged Tasha and Sin away from the burning shuttle, through the jungle of alien greenery, until they were a safe distance away. Reshef had died upon impact, and Worf had leapt out of the craft as soon as possible, leaving the injured Goran behind. So much for Klingon honor.
Data left Tasha on the ground, coughing from smoke but suffering only minor burns, and bounded back to the shuttle. There was grunting, and sounds of struggle coming from it, like someone trying to prevent themselves from screaming in pain. Data entered the craft, seizing Goran and dragging him out. Goran roared in agony as his legs were torn from underneath the rubble.
"Orion bastards set us up! You Klingon scum!" Tasha shouted. She coughed, still trying to get smoke out of her lungs, and looked at Data. "Now what do we do!"
Data had Goran hoisted up by the throat, trying to force him to stand on his broken legs. The Klingon only grinned fiercely at Tasha, seemingly amused by her frustration. "You could always die," he hissed. Data narrowed his yellow eyes, not taking kindly to that, but Goran continued. "Or you could—"
"Be quiet," Data ordered, tightening his grip on the Klingon's throat, "or I will put you out of your misery."
Goran managed a sneer and wheezed out, "I don't take orders from machines."
Data threw him to the ground. Another roar erupted from the Klingon's throat, and he coughed, putting a hand to his neck.
"Your captain has abandoned you," Data stated matter-of-factly. "Now we will take our leave in case the shuttle fire spreads."
"I'd rather die than be a trophy for the Empire," Goran croaked.
Data knelt down. "Then die," he simply said, and in a fraction of a second, he had the Klingon's head twisted around, breaking his neck with one sharp, swift click. Goran slumped to the side, landing in a bed of thorns.
"Data!" Tasha yelled. "We needed him!"
Data coolly stood, mechanical as always. "I do not think the Orions are meeting us at our original destination." He turned to her. "Are you unharmed?"
Tasha breathed out of her nose in exasperation, but nodded. "Pretty much. Just a few light burns."
Data looked to the boy. He had a scrape on his cheek, his clothes were charred from the crash and a bit muddy from being dragged through the foliage, but apart from that, he looked fine. "Are you unharmed?" Data asked. Sin nodded.
Tasha growled in frustration, dropped down onto a rock, and let her head fall into her hands. "Data, why'd you bring the boy…?"
"Because the captain ordered me to."
"Fuck the captain."
"I would rather not, Ta—"
"Data!"
Data's brow furrowed, but he did not question Tasha's scold. Rather, he chose not to question it, and instead turned back to the shuttle. The fire seemed to be spreading.
He knelt down and scooped Sin up in his arms, placing the boy on his shoulders the way he had seen in old films and family portraits. Not that he saw the boy as family; it was just the easiest way to carry him. "We must leave, Tasha. Now."
Tasha recognized an order when it was given, and she sighed, standing up and following Data as he started off through the jungle.
They walked for some time, uphill mostly, so they could get a better view of their surroundings, and maybe even see where Worf might have run off to. When they reached something resembling a clearing, Data carefully deposited Sin on the ground and climbed onto a rock, surveying the planet below. The majority of it was thick with greenery, the sky a bright aqua blue. It probably would have been considered a beautiful sight, but Data didn't know much about beauty.
"Do you think the Enterprise will find us?" Tasha asked, sitting down to catch her breath.
"If we wait for the shuttle fire to die down, I am sure we can construct a distress beacon from the remaining scrap. But I do not think the captain will be pleased."
"No shit. We lost his Klingons."
Data frowned. That was indeed true, and of course the captain would be displeased. Incredibly displeased, in fact. No doubt the two of them would be punished, perhaps more severely than usual. Perhaps it would be better if they did not return. But, Data concluded, that obviously wasn't an option.
"We must keep moving," he said, leaping down from the rock with deceptive lightness. He hoisted Sin onto his shoulders again. "We must find a suitable place to rest for the night."
Tasha sighed and followed.
---
Will laid his cards down on the table, a smug smile plastered across his face. A collective groan came from the other players, who threw their own cards down as Will dragged the pile of chips to his chest. Deanna was the one who was most upset by the loss, sitting with her arms folded and her jaw clenched in irritation.
"I think you're cheating us somehow," Geordi chuckled. "I've never known a man to win so much in one night."
Will grinned and started shuffling the cards. "Well, you just met him. Another game, Deanna?"
Deanna anted with a scoff. "Someone has to beat you."
Will only grinned again and began dealing out the cards to the four other players: Deanna Troi, Geordi La Forge, and both Beverly and Wesley Crusher—who never found it embarrassing to be seen gambling with his mother.
"If Data were here," Wesley said, "you'd be running for your money, Commander."
"Shut up, Wesley," Beverly snapped under her breath, fidgeting with her remaining chips. "Deal the cards, Will."
"I would, if I could be sure Deanna's eyes wouldn't burn a hole through them." The rest of the table laughed, and Will smirked at the unamused Deanna. "I'm sure she'll remember these are her cards, though."
Deanna picked up her hand without a word. Somehow, she always lost to Will when it came to poker. The others had such strong emotions, that it was typically easy to pick up on who was bluffing or not. But Will? For all that she could read him under any other circumstances, he was like a stone when it came to gambling.
With the cards dealt, everyone turned serious—everyone except Will, whose poker face just happened to be a half-smirk.
"Commander Riker, report to the bridge," came the captain's voice over the comm. Will acknowledged the request, then sighed and placed his cards down.
"I guess we'll finish this game later," he said, standing.
Deanna stiffly laid her own cards down. "I'll join you. I'm leaving anyway." Will couldn't help but chuckle a little.
"Hold onto my winnings for me, Geordi, while I take care of this."
Geordi chuckled back, and shot the first officer a joking salute.
Deanna and Will walked in silence at first. It was only when they entered the turbolift that Will broke it. "I never would have pegged you as a sore loser," he said.
Deanna shifted her arms across her chest irritably. "Well I am. A very sore loser, at that." A small smile suddenly touched her lips as an idea struck her, and she uncrossed her arms and turned to Will. "But," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders, pressing her body suggestively against his, "maybe you can make it up to me."
Will swallowed, his triumph over poker replaced by an uneasy arousal. "W-well," he stuttered huskily, "just what exactly did you have in mind…?"
Deanna smiled, dropped her eyes to his lips, and brought her own mouth closer. Her lips parted enticingly—and it was then that the lift doors opened.
"This is my stop," she said, suddenly disentangling herself from him. "I'll see you later, Commander." And with a mocking wave goodbye, she sashayed out. Will swore under his breath, and ran a finger under his collar as the lift resumed.
The bridge was busy as usual, but the only voices heard came from the captain and an admiral on the viewscreen—grey and old, he was laughing along with something Picard had just said. Will came forward with an acknowledging nod to both the captain and the admiral. Picard wrapped up his conversation and then turned to Will, a bottle in his hand.
"Courtesy of Admiral Revial," he explained. "An old Earth whiskey. 'Jack Daniels,' they call it."
"Yes," the admiral added from the viewscreen. "For your glorious defeat of the Romulans. We're all cheering for the Enterprise at home, Commander."
Will smiled and nodded. "Thank you, sir."
The admiral grinned back. "You enjoy that, and we'll enjoy the rest of these Klingons. They always put up such an entertaining fight. Until next time, Captain."
"Until next time," Picard said, and the admiral's face blinked off the viewscreen. He turned to Will. "Have the senior staff meet me in the briefing lounge." He gave the bottle in his hand a demonstrative little shake and added, "And tell them to bring their drinking glasses."
-----
A/N: Is it just me, or does "That damn android" not sound like the title of a sitcom?: That Damn Android! (The exclamation mark is required, don'tcha know. Along with a phenomenally cheesy laugh track.) To be followed by Law & Order: UFP!
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: 1,705
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 4
The Captain sat in his ready room, resting with a cup of the ship's finest coffee on his desk and a data PADD with Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus in his hand. The ship was scheduled to dock at the Imperial prison planet Proxima, to drop off the rest of the Klingons and in turn, to gather some supplies. Picard was more concerned about his payment from the Orions, though he was sure Lieutenant Yar and Lieutenant Commander Data could handle it.
That damn android and his boy… It would have been much easier if they had simply left the child on some M class planet, amongst wild creatures—after all, most children were wild creatures themselves. Data had almost sounded like that Klingon captain, Worf, for a moment—like some silly, selfless Robin Hood. Except Data was something significantly more intelligent and useful than a Klingon.
The captain sighed and placed the PADD down. What a creature Data was… Magnificently gifted and yet horribly cursed, whose cruelty superseded anything the Empire had done, and whose kindness superseded anything the Romulans were capable of.
That damn android.
Data scrambled like wildfire. He dragged Tasha and Sin away from the burning shuttle, through the jungle of alien greenery, until they were a safe distance away. Reshef had died upon impact, and Worf had leapt out of the craft as soon as possible, leaving the injured Goran behind. So much for Klingon honor.
Data left Tasha on the ground, coughing from smoke but suffering only minor burns, and bounded back to the shuttle. There was grunting, and sounds of struggle coming from it, like someone trying to prevent themselves from screaming in pain. Data entered the craft, seizing Goran and dragging him out. Goran roared in agony as his legs were torn from underneath the rubble.
"Orion bastards set us up! You Klingon scum!" Tasha shouted. She coughed, still trying to get smoke out of her lungs, and looked at Data. "Now what do we do!"
Data had Goran hoisted up by the throat, trying to force him to stand on his broken legs. The Klingon only grinned fiercely at Tasha, seemingly amused by her frustration. "You could always die," he hissed. Data narrowed his yellow eyes, not taking kindly to that, but Goran continued. "Or you could—"
"Be quiet," Data ordered, tightening his grip on the Klingon's throat, "or I will put you out of your misery."
Goran managed a sneer and wheezed out, "I don't take orders from machines."
Data threw him to the ground. Another roar erupted from the Klingon's throat, and he coughed, putting a hand to his neck.
"Your captain has abandoned you," Data stated matter-of-factly. "Now we will take our leave in case the shuttle fire spreads."
"I'd rather die than be a trophy for the Empire," Goran croaked.
Data knelt down. "Then die," he simply said, and in a fraction of a second, he had the Klingon's head twisted around, breaking his neck with one sharp, swift click. Goran slumped to the side, landing in a bed of thorns.
"Data!" Tasha yelled. "We needed him!"
Data coolly stood, mechanical as always. "I do not think the Orions are meeting us at our original destination." He turned to her. "Are you unharmed?"
Tasha breathed out of her nose in exasperation, but nodded. "Pretty much. Just a few light burns."
Data looked to the boy. He had a scrape on his cheek, his clothes were charred from the crash and a bit muddy from being dragged through the foliage, but apart from that, he looked fine. "Are you unharmed?" Data asked. Sin nodded.
Tasha growled in frustration, dropped down onto a rock, and let her head fall into her hands. "Data, why'd you bring the boy…?"
"Because the captain ordered me to."
"Fuck the captain."
"I would rather not, Ta—"
"Data!"
Data's brow furrowed, but he did not question Tasha's scold. Rather, he chose not to question it, and instead turned back to the shuttle. The fire seemed to be spreading.
He knelt down and scooped Sin up in his arms, placing the boy on his shoulders the way he had seen in old films and family portraits. Not that he saw the boy as family; it was just the easiest way to carry him. "We must leave, Tasha. Now."
Tasha recognized an order when it was given, and she sighed, standing up and following Data as he started off through the jungle.
They walked for some time, uphill mostly, so they could get a better view of their surroundings, and maybe even see where Worf might have run off to. When they reached something resembling a clearing, Data carefully deposited Sin on the ground and climbed onto a rock, surveying the planet below. The majority of it was thick with greenery, the sky a bright aqua blue. It probably would have been considered a beautiful sight, but Data didn't know much about beauty.
"Do you think the Enterprise will find us?" Tasha asked, sitting down to catch her breath.
"If we wait for the shuttle fire to die down, I am sure we can construct a distress beacon from the remaining scrap. But I do not think the captain will be pleased."
"No shit. We lost his Klingons."
Data frowned. That was indeed true, and of course the captain would be displeased. Incredibly displeased, in fact. No doubt the two of them would be punished, perhaps more severely than usual. Perhaps it would be better if they did not return. But, Data concluded, that obviously wasn't an option.
"We must keep moving," he said, leaping down from the rock with deceptive lightness. He hoisted Sin onto his shoulders again. "We must find a suitable place to rest for the night."
Tasha sighed and followed.
Will laid his cards down on the table, a smug smile plastered across his face. A collective groan came from the other players, who threw their own cards down as Will dragged the pile of chips to his chest. Deanna was the one who was most upset by the loss, sitting with her arms folded and her jaw clenched in irritation.
"I think you're cheating us somehow," Geordi chuckled. "I've never known a man to win so much in one night."
Will grinned and started shuffling the cards. "Well, you just met him. Another game, Deanna?"
Deanna anted with a scoff. "Someone has to beat you."
Will only grinned again and began dealing out the cards to the four other players: Deanna Troi, Geordi La Forge, and both Beverly and Wesley Crusher—who never found it embarrassing to be seen gambling with his mother.
"If Data were here," Wesley said, "you'd be running for your money, Commander."
"Shut up, Wesley," Beverly snapped under her breath, fidgeting with her remaining chips. "Deal the cards, Will."
"I would, if I could be sure Deanna's eyes wouldn't burn a hole through them." The rest of the table laughed, and Will smirked at the unamused Deanna. "I'm sure she'll remember these are her cards, though."
Deanna picked up her hand without a word. Somehow, she always lost to Will when it came to poker. The others had such strong emotions, that it was typically easy to pick up on who was bluffing or not. But Will? For all that she could read him under any other circumstances, he was like a stone when it came to gambling.
With the cards dealt, everyone turned serious—everyone except Will, whose poker face just happened to be a half-smirk.
"Commander Riker, report to the bridge," came the captain's voice over the comm. Will acknowledged the request, then sighed and placed his cards down.
"I guess we'll finish this game later," he said, standing.
Deanna stiffly laid her own cards down. "I'll join you. I'm leaving anyway." Will couldn't help but chuckle a little.
"Hold onto my winnings for me, Geordi, while I take care of this."
Geordi chuckled back, and shot the first officer a joking salute.
Deanna and Will walked in silence at first. It was only when they entered the turbolift that Will broke it. "I never would have pegged you as a sore loser," he said.
Deanna shifted her arms across her chest irritably. "Well I am. A very sore loser, at that." A small smile suddenly touched her lips as an idea struck her, and she uncrossed her arms and turned to Will. "But," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders, pressing her body suggestively against his, "maybe you can make it up to me."
Will swallowed, his triumph over poker replaced by an uneasy arousal. "W-well," he stuttered huskily, "just what exactly did you have in mind…?"
Deanna smiled, dropped her eyes to his lips, and brought her own mouth closer. Her lips parted enticingly—and it was then that the lift doors opened.
"This is my stop," she said, suddenly disentangling herself from him. "I'll see you later, Commander." And with a mocking wave goodbye, she sashayed out. Will swore under his breath, and ran a finger under his collar as the lift resumed.
The bridge was busy as usual, but the only voices heard came from the captain and an admiral on the viewscreen—grey and old, he was laughing along with something Picard had just said. Will came forward with an acknowledging nod to both the captain and the admiral. Picard wrapped up his conversation and then turned to Will, a bottle in his hand.
"Courtesy of Admiral Revial," he explained. "An old Earth whiskey. 'Jack Daniels,' they call it."
"Yes," the admiral added from the viewscreen. "For your glorious defeat of the Romulans. We're all cheering for the Enterprise at home, Commander."
Will smiled and nodded. "Thank you, sir."
The admiral grinned back. "You enjoy that, and we'll enjoy the rest of these Klingons. They always put up such an entertaining fight. Until next time, Captain."
"Until next time," Picard said, and the admiral's face blinked off the viewscreen. He turned to Will. "Have the senior staff meet me in the briefing lounge." He gave the bottle in his hand a demonstrative little shake and added, "And tell them to bring their drinking glasses."
-----
A/N: Is it just me, or does "That damn android" not sound like the title of a sitcom?: That Damn Android! (The exclamation mark is required, don'tcha know. Along with a phenomenally cheesy laugh track.) To be followed by Law & Order: UFP!
All other fics can be found here.
