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konstantyaTitle: Façades: A Mirror Universe Story (Chapter 6)
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: AU, drama, adventure.
Characters/pairings: Mirror!Data/Mirror!Tasha.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2,270
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 6
The details of the torture of two officers and a boy weren't necessary to document in a report. As long as they were reduced to cringing masses of hopeless, useless sludge, that was all that mattered.
Tasha had taken the punishment hard. She'd barely survived, thrown back into the brig unconscious and half-dead, with no medical treatment whatsoever for her phaser burns or broken arm. The boy, on the other hand, had taken it surprisingly well—as well as anyone could, at least.
When he was at the captain's feet, his young body burnt and bloody… The captain had grinned. The boy had kept his head down and let the sweat drip from his nose, his ribcage burning with each shaky, cracking breath. Picard always believed that the making of a man was the breaking of a man—in which case, perhaps this boy was on his way to becoming a useful asset to the Terran Empire after all.
Picard shoved the boy's chin with his well-polished boots. He fell back and closed his eyes. Picard thought he might have seen the boy utter something from his bruised lips, but the words weren't audible. Nor were they important.
The details were never important.
---
They were placed at the end of the brig where the lights were dim and the cells hadn't been cleaned since—well, since the ship left spacedock for its first mission. The stink of damp walls, sweat, and blood was sickening. The stench alone was punishment enough, and was often used to induce sickness in misbehaving crew members—a few days in the brig and they never went back to their old, undisciplined ways. Just straight back to duty after a quick hypo for the disease and nausea.
Data sat in the corner, his body involuntarily jerking against the wall, his eye twitching every now and then from the fried circuits. They couldn't make an android feel pain, but they could certainly compromise his body and mind by shocking his system. He couldn't even calculate a single mathematical problem in his current state.
Tasha lay exactly where they had flung her. She was breathing lightly and unevenly, stinking of burnt skin and fabric, her arm twisted at an unnatural, painful angle.
And the boy, Sin… Data was intrigued, to say the least. He didn't cry like a boy, nor did he die like a worthless Romulan. He sat quietly, looking around every so often, wincing a little, but not complaining. His neck had suffered phaser burns, as had his hands, but he didn't look too shaken by the experience. The Empire, however, had made a statement with him—his left ear had been cut, removing the pointed tip and leaving a garish wound, struggling to heal. He touched it occasionally with a murmur, but didn't complain. If anything, he seemed grateful that the whole thing hadn't been taken off.
His blue gaze was intently focused on Tasha. He tried to match her breathing every now and then, but found it difficult, and could only wonder what they had done to leave her in such a state.
"Will she die?"
Data turned his head slightly to look at the boy. It was the first time he had spoken, and he did so so fluently, with a deep, almost ominous tone to his voice. Too deep and ominous for a boy. Sin looked over and met the android's gaze.
"No," Data replied. "Why—should it matter to you—if she does?"
Sin leaned back against the wall and twirled a rag between his fingers. He closed his eyes and sighed a little. "It's a waste," he finally murmured. "Freedom has no value if violence is the price."
Data looked at the boy through his twitches and almost smiled. "I—agree."
---
When they were released, they were escorted to Geordi and Beverly, respectively, for repair and the barest of medical attention. Tasha was frighteningly weak, but insisted she needed no help, accepting only a splint and sling for her arm, and a few swabs for her burns.
The captain had ordered all three to the briefing lounge. As they stood silently in the turbolift together, Data noticed an occasional flash of fear across Tasha's features, despite how she was trying to put on a brave face.
"You look worried, Tasha," he commented, almost as if he was flaunting his emotionless tone and demeanor. Tasha shot him a fierce look.
"You're an asshole, Data," she sneered, before dismissively flicking her head away.
Data, in turn, looked back to the lift doors. "Tell it to the captain, Lieutenant."
"So we're on formalities now?" she demanded. And then caustically added, "Sir?"
Data didn't reply.
They entered the briefing room with Data in the lead. Picard sat at the head of the table, with Will to his right and Deanna to his left. Deanna's presence normally indicated the matter was not resolved and that the punishment might not be over. She smiled at them—a sinister expression leaking from the corners of her dark lips. Data kept his head held high, almost enough to be construed as arrogant, and sat between Sin and Tasha, who, by contrast, were looking terribly apprehensive and downcast.
"The first matter at hand," began Will, "is the boy. We have reason to believe that he may have caused distractions and hindered your performances."
"I disagree, Commander," Data smoothly said.
Picard raised his eyebrow. "Elaborate."
"The attack was not anticipated. The Klingons were even concerned by the timing of the assault, saying, and I quote, 'You said they wouldn't attack right away!' " He reproduced the words in a pitch-perfect imitation of the Klingon's voice and continued in his own tone. "The boy was not involved in the attack in any way. Nor was he a distraction to myself or Lieutenant Yar."
"Do you agree, Lieutenant?" Will asked.
Tasha took a breath. "I agree the attack was a surprise, Commander."
Will smiled. "But you disagree about the boy?"
Data looked over at Tasha. A silent warning to watch her words carefully. Tasha took another bracing breath, firmly ignored his gaze, and continued.
"He should not have been on the shuttle. He was a liability. There's no use for him on this ship, or any Imperial ship, for that matter. He should be discarded."
" 'Discarded'?" Will asked. "In what manner?" A grin was twitching at his lips.
"Removed from the ship. Sent somewhere else."
Picard looked at Tasha, and then to Data. As was usual, the android's features were completely emotionless and unreadable—the perfect poker face.
"Deanna, can you provide a little insight into this…?" Picard trailed off, searching for the right word, but Deanna knew what he meant and neatly took over.
"Fear. Anger. Classic transference." She smirked.
"From whom, Deanna?"
"Lieutenant Yar. As is usual with Commander Data, I can never tell, and the boy…well, he's not projecting much. He's very guarded. Strong, I would say, Captain."
Tasha lowered her head and breathed in heavily.
"So it comes down to this half-breed mutt," Will said. "What are your reasons for keeping him, Mr. Data?" He raised his eyebrows at the android, who replied matter-of-factly, as if the matter was nothing more than a simply data analysis.
"He survived a shuttle crash and bore the brunt of the planet's elements. He also took his punishment in stride—as you may recall, he uttered not a single cry, neither during nor after. There is something to be said for a boy who is more physically resilient than one of our lieutenants."
"Are you referring to Mr. Yar, Commander?" asked the captain.
"Indirectly, sir."
The captain had to laugh at the android's honesty. Tasha paled and felt as if she'd just been hung from a meat hook and slashed from throat to belly, her poor guts left to spill all over the floor. She swallowed and tried to compose herself.
The captain leaned back in his chair. "I will have to speak to the admiral on this matter. You may be further punished at his discretion."
"And the boy?" Will asked.
Picard glared at him. "As I was just about to say, Commander, the boy may stay. Mr. Data will report back to me in two weeks, outlining his usefulness and thus, his right to remain upon this ship. Otherwise, the boy will be executed." He turned to Data and Tasha. "We'll be keeping a very, very close eye on you two. Any problems regarding your performances will be reported directly to me and will result in an immediate removal from duty."
"Or execution," Will added, because all-too often, if one wasn't fit for duty, then one wasn't fit for the Empire.
Picard continued, "Deanna Troi will attend the next meeting, should there be one, and assess your mental capabilities. Dismissed."
They sat motionless for a moment, taken aback by the abrupt end to the briefing, sending unsure glances back and forth, wondering who should make the first move—until the captain irritably looked up from his computer console.
"Well?" he demanded. "Piss off!"
---
Data was back on duty the next day. One of the turbolifts was having 'issues,' as Geordi put it, which turned the normal twelve-second journey to the bridge into one closer to two minutes.
He stood, hands clasped in front of him, waiting, and thought about the boy. Sin. He was obviously a smart child and had a high tolerance for pain—and a willingness to live and fight, hidden deep beneath his mess of DNA. He had to find a purpose for him… Data toyed with some kind of experiment to test his strength and mental abilities—he was curious to know why the child was so complex, and why he was the product of so many different species? Was it intentional? Was he a secret Romulan weapon?
The lift stopped to pick up another crewmember. When the door slid open, the battered image of Tasha Yar caught Data's eye. She stepped in, not looking at him, and the door slid shut again.
"Bridge," she muttered to the computer, staring straight ahead. The lift resumed, and they stood in silence for a few seconds.
"You look upset, Tasha," Data commented. "Perhaps you should speak to the doctor. You seem fati—"
"Fuck off, Data," she snapped. "You want to try to show me up in front of everyone again? Huh?"
"Ah." He turned back to the door. "The briefing lounge. You were dissatisfied with my report."
"No, really?"
Data frowned at her sarcasm. "I will not leave the child to the mercy of the Empire. I believe he can be useful to us. It would be illogical to eradicate such—"
In a flash, Tasha was up in his face. For a supposedly emotionless android, he sure did manage to sound smug sometimes, and she found it particularly unbearable then. Her irritation was compounded by the slow lift, and she pointed at him, almost shaking with rage, speaking through gritted teeth, oblivious to any danger she might have been putting herself in.
"You shut up right now. That was fuck all to do with that boy—it was you making me look like an idiot because I won't play your game. Because you got rejected like the sleaze you are."
Unaffected, Data arched an eyebrow. " 'Sleaze'? Many would disagree. That is anger talking, Tasha. I merely spoke the truth to the captain."
Her voice lowered in disgust, and she spat, "I'll see you used for spare parts, Data." His expression faltered, and in one fell swoop, he grabbed her arm and swung her into the turbolift wall, crushing his body against hers and pinning her down.
"I do not like threats," he whispered in her face. "I do not like threats at all, Tasha. I find you a capable officer and I enjoy your company, but I will not"—he squeezed her uninjured arm and came almost nose to nose with her—"tolerate threats. Be cautious with your words, Tasha, for I am sure you cannot perform your duties with two broken arms."
She didn't reply. She was trying so hard to wriggle out of his grasp that she couldn't even manage a little squeal.
"Well, can you?" he demanded. "Can you perform your duties without the use of your arms, Tasha? Or must I test my hypothesis?" He squeezed harder and she gasped. She thought that maybe he was going to do some real damage to her, right there in the turbolift. He wasn't programmed to be compassionate, and she'd always known he was a little odd, eccentric, sometimes even unknowingly cruel when it came to satisfying his curiosity, but she'd never seen him like this. This was more like genuine anger. Or madness.
He narrowed his eyes at her and deliberately breathed in her face, reveling in her fear. But a second before the turbolift door opened, he let her go, his cool expression falling back into place as if nothing had happened. And if her arm wasn't hurting from where he'd grabbed her, she might have been hard-pressed to believe anything had.
Polite as ever, he gestured for her to step off the lift first, and with a wary glance, she did. She took her station, and Data moved to the science console behind her, typing into it with lightning speed. Tasha's own console suddenly flashed, indicating a message from within the system, and she opened it without a thought.
I would never hurt you, Tasha. But I always get what I want.
She deleted the message with a nervous breath.
-----
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: 2,270
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 6
The details of the torture of two officers and a boy weren't necessary to document in a report. As long as they were reduced to cringing masses of hopeless, useless sludge, that was all that mattered.
Tasha had taken the punishment hard. She'd barely survived, thrown back into the brig unconscious and half-dead, with no medical treatment whatsoever for her phaser burns or broken arm. The boy, on the other hand, had taken it surprisingly well—as well as anyone could, at least.
When he was at the captain's feet, his young body burnt and bloody… The captain had grinned. The boy had kept his head down and let the sweat drip from his nose, his ribcage burning with each shaky, cracking breath. Picard always believed that the making of a man was the breaking of a man—in which case, perhaps this boy was on his way to becoming a useful asset to the Terran Empire after all.
Picard shoved the boy's chin with his well-polished boots. He fell back and closed his eyes. Picard thought he might have seen the boy utter something from his bruised lips, but the words weren't audible. Nor were they important.
The details were never important.
They were placed at the end of the brig where the lights were dim and the cells hadn't been cleaned since—well, since the ship left spacedock for its first mission. The stink of damp walls, sweat, and blood was sickening. The stench alone was punishment enough, and was often used to induce sickness in misbehaving crew members—a few days in the brig and they never went back to their old, undisciplined ways. Just straight back to duty after a quick hypo for the disease and nausea.
Data sat in the corner, his body involuntarily jerking against the wall, his eye twitching every now and then from the fried circuits. They couldn't make an android feel pain, but they could certainly compromise his body and mind by shocking his system. He couldn't even calculate a single mathematical problem in his current state.
Tasha lay exactly where they had flung her. She was breathing lightly and unevenly, stinking of burnt skin and fabric, her arm twisted at an unnatural, painful angle.
And the boy, Sin… Data was intrigued, to say the least. He didn't cry like a boy, nor did he die like a worthless Romulan. He sat quietly, looking around every so often, wincing a little, but not complaining. His neck had suffered phaser burns, as had his hands, but he didn't look too shaken by the experience. The Empire, however, had made a statement with him—his left ear had been cut, removing the pointed tip and leaving a garish wound, struggling to heal. He touched it occasionally with a murmur, but didn't complain. If anything, he seemed grateful that the whole thing hadn't been taken off.
His blue gaze was intently focused on Tasha. He tried to match her breathing every now and then, but found it difficult, and could only wonder what they had done to leave her in such a state.
"Will she die?"
Data turned his head slightly to look at the boy. It was the first time he had spoken, and he did so so fluently, with a deep, almost ominous tone to his voice. Too deep and ominous for a boy. Sin looked over and met the android's gaze.
"No," Data replied. "Why—should it matter to you—if she does?"
Sin leaned back against the wall and twirled a rag between his fingers. He closed his eyes and sighed a little. "It's a waste," he finally murmured. "Freedom has no value if violence is the price."
Data looked at the boy through his twitches and almost smiled. "I—agree."
When they were released, they were escorted to Geordi and Beverly, respectively, for repair and the barest of medical attention. Tasha was frighteningly weak, but insisted she needed no help, accepting only a splint and sling for her arm, and a few swabs for her burns.
The captain had ordered all three to the briefing lounge. As they stood silently in the turbolift together, Data noticed an occasional flash of fear across Tasha's features, despite how she was trying to put on a brave face.
"You look worried, Tasha," he commented, almost as if he was flaunting his emotionless tone and demeanor. Tasha shot him a fierce look.
"You're an asshole, Data," she sneered, before dismissively flicking her head away.
Data, in turn, looked back to the lift doors. "Tell it to the captain, Lieutenant."
"So we're on formalities now?" she demanded. And then caustically added, "Sir?"
Data didn't reply.
They entered the briefing room with Data in the lead. Picard sat at the head of the table, with Will to his right and Deanna to his left. Deanna's presence normally indicated the matter was not resolved and that the punishment might not be over. She smiled at them—a sinister expression leaking from the corners of her dark lips. Data kept his head held high, almost enough to be construed as arrogant, and sat between Sin and Tasha, who, by contrast, were looking terribly apprehensive and downcast.
"The first matter at hand," began Will, "is the boy. We have reason to believe that he may have caused distractions and hindered your performances."
"I disagree, Commander," Data smoothly said.
Picard raised his eyebrow. "Elaborate."
"The attack was not anticipated. The Klingons were even concerned by the timing of the assault, saying, and I quote, 'You said they wouldn't attack right away!' " He reproduced the words in a pitch-perfect imitation of the Klingon's voice and continued in his own tone. "The boy was not involved in the attack in any way. Nor was he a distraction to myself or Lieutenant Yar."
"Do you agree, Lieutenant?" Will asked.
Tasha took a breath. "I agree the attack was a surprise, Commander."
Will smiled. "But you disagree about the boy?"
Data looked over at Tasha. A silent warning to watch her words carefully. Tasha took another bracing breath, firmly ignored his gaze, and continued.
"He should not have been on the shuttle. He was a liability. There's no use for him on this ship, or any Imperial ship, for that matter. He should be discarded."
" 'Discarded'?" Will asked. "In what manner?" A grin was twitching at his lips.
"Removed from the ship. Sent somewhere else."
Picard looked at Tasha, and then to Data. As was usual, the android's features were completely emotionless and unreadable—the perfect poker face.
"Deanna, can you provide a little insight into this…?" Picard trailed off, searching for the right word, but Deanna knew what he meant and neatly took over.
"Fear. Anger. Classic transference." She smirked.
"From whom, Deanna?"
"Lieutenant Yar. As is usual with Commander Data, I can never tell, and the boy…well, he's not projecting much. He's very guarded. Strong, I would say, Captain."
Tasha lowered her head and breathed in heavily.
"So it comes down to this half-breed mutt," Will said. "What are your reasons for keeping him, Mr. Data?" He raised his eyebrows at the android, who replied matter-of-factly, as if the matter was nothing more than a simply data analysis.
"He survived a shuttle crash and bore the brunt of the planet's elements. He also took his punishment in stride—as you may recall, he uttered not a single cry, neither during nor after. There is something to be said for a boy who is more physically resilient than one of our lieutenants."
"Are you referring to Mr. Yar, Commander?" asked the captain.
"Indirectly, sir."
The captain had to laugh at the android's honesty. Tasha paled and felt as if she'd just been hung from a meat hook and slashed from throat to belly, her poor guts left to spill all over the floor. She swallowed and tried to compose herself.
The captain leaned back in his chair. "I will have to speak to the admiral on this matter. You may be further punished at his discretion."
"And the boy?" Will asked.
Picard glared at him. "As I was just about to say, Commander, the boy may stay. Mr. Data will report back to me in two weeks, outlining his usefulness and thus, his right to remain upon this ship. Otherwise, the boy will be executed." He turned to Data and Tasha. "We'll be keeping a very, very close eye on you two. Any problems regarding your performances will be reported directly to me and will result in an immediate removal from duty."
"Or execution," Will added, because all-too often, if one wasn't fit for duty, then one wasn't fit for the Empire.
Picard continued, "Deanna Troi will attend the next meeting, should there be one, and assess your mental capabilities. Dismissed."
They sat motionless for a moment, taken aback by the abrupt end to the briefing, sending unsure glances back and forth, wondering who should make the first move—until the captain irritably looked up from his computer console.
"Well?" he demanded. "Piss off!"
Data was back on duty the next day. One of the turbolifts was having 'issues,' as Geordi put it, which turned the normal twelve-second journey to the bridge into one closer to two minutes.
He stood, hands clasped in front of him, waiting, and thought about the boy. Sin. He was obviously a smart child and had a high tolerance for pain—and a willingness to live and fight, hidden deep beneath his mess of DNA. He had to find a purpose for him… Data toyed with some kind of experiment to test his strength and mental abilities—he was curious to know why the child was so complex, and why he was the product of so many different species? Was it intentional? Was he a secret Romulan weapon?
The lift stopped to pick up another crewmember. When the door slid open, the battered image of Tasha Yar caught Data's eye. She stepped in, not looking at him, and the door slid shut again.
"Bridge," she muttered to the computer, staring straight ahead. The lift resumed, and they stood in silence for a few seconds.
"You look upset, Tasha," Data commented. "Perhaps you should speak to the doctor. You seem fati—"
"Fuck off, Data," she snapped. "You want to try to show me up in front of everyone again? Huh?"
"Ah." He turned back to the door. "The briefing lounge. You were dissatisfied with my report."
"No, really?"
Data frowned at her sarcasm. "I will not leave the child to the mercy of the Empire. I believe he can be useful to us. It would be illogical to eradicate such—"
In a flash, Tasha was up in his face. For a supposedly emotionless android, he sure did manage to sound smug sometimes, and she found it particularly unbearable then. Her irritation was compounded by the slow lift, and she pointed at him, almost shaking with rage, speaking through gritted teeth, oblivious to any danger she might have been putting herself in.
"You shut up right now. That was fuck all to do with that boy—it was you making me look like an idiot because I won't play your game. Because you got rejected like the sleaze you are."
Unaffected, Data arched an eyebrow. " 'Sleaze'? Many would disagree. That is anger talking, Tasha. I merely spoke the truth to the captain."
Her voice lowered in disgust, and she spat, "I'll see you used for spare parts, Data." His expression faltered, and in one fell swoop, he grabbed her arm and swung her into the turbolift wall, crushing his body against hers and pinning her down.
"I do not like threats," he whispered in her face. "I do not like threats at all, Tasha. I find you a capable officer and I enjoy your company, but I will not"—he squeezed her uninjured arm and came almost nose to nose with her—"tolerate threats. Be cautious with your words, Tasha, for I am sure you cannot perform your duties with two broken arms."
She didn't reply. She was trying so hard to wriggle out of his grasp that she couldn't even manage a little squeal.
"Well, can you?" he demanded. "Can you perform your duties without the use of your arms, Tasha? Or must I test my hypothesis?" He squeezed harder and she gasped. She thought that maybe he was going to do some real damage to her, right there in the turbolift. He wasn't programmed to be compassionate, and she'd always known he was a little odd, eccentric, sometimes even unknowingly cruel when it came to satisfying his curiosity, but she'd never seen him like this. This was more like genuine anger. Or madness.
He narrowed his eyes at her and deliberately breathed in her face, reveling in her fear. But a second before the turbolift door opened, he let her go, his cool expression falling back into place as if nothing had happened. And if her arm wasn't hurting from where he'd grabbed her, she might have been hard-pressed to believe anything had.
Polite as ever, he gestured for her to step off the lift first, and with a wary glance, she did. She took her station, and Data moved to the science console behind her, typing into it with lightning speed. Tasha's own console suddenly flashed, indicating a message from within the system, and she opened it without a thought.
I would never hurt you, Tasha. But I always get what I want.
She deleted the message with a nervous breath.
-----
All other fics can be found here.
