Wakes

[tasha_yar]

The nightmares were particularly bad tonight. There was a smell to them. Burnt polymers, dry sand, and something decaying. Someone...or was it something? It was talking in a voice that sounded far away, yet at the same time cloying, choking, drowning. A death rattle voice.

An interesting notion I do not share. It rasped mockingly. You may leave now; if you wish.

But she couldn't leave. There had been a logic to the dream where she couldn't leave. She stepped in front of Data. She couldn't recall what she said. She was talking and moving, focusing this thing's attention on her. Then the dream shifted and she was flying and when she landed there was nothing.

She took a deep breath in and tried opening her eyes. Her chest hurt. Everything hurt. She redoubled her efforts, took the next breath in and opened her eyes only to discover she had a sizable headache. There was an unhappy gasp as she pulled herself up to a seating position and marveled at the fact she hadn't felt this bad since the day after the Tchaikovsky problem. Whatever this was, she'd check in with Dr. Crusher if she felt any worse.

"Computer, give me the time."

"The time is 0713 hours and 17 seconds."

Tasha spat out something short, scandalous, and to the point that covered her irritation with being nearly late. No time for a shower. Good thing she had fallen asleep in uniform again. She made herself leave the bed, throws on her boots, runs her fingers through her honey blonde hair, and starts out the door.

In her somewhat sleep-and-pain fogged state, she didn't notice some things she should have, like the differences in the few uniformed officers passing her in this early hour. It was only when she entered the lift and ordered it to the bridge that she encountered her first problem.

"Bridge."

The turbolift didn't budge. She repeated herself.

"Bridge!"

Still nothing.

She sighed. There must be some kind of maintenance going on. Damn annoying.

She touched her badge. "Yar to bridge."

Silence. The communicator was unresponsive.

She let out a huff and made a note to go to the gym this evening to take all of this out on the punching bags. Think, Tasha!

Most of the primary bridge crew would not be on at this hour. Will could be busy. Data could be up there, or he could be tinkering with the lifts. Either way, she wasn't much interested in presenting herself to his cheerful demeanor while she was like this. Same thing with Geordi. She could get Worf, but he would have just gotten off shift and he needed to understand what "time off" meant - even if she had a poor grasp of it herself. That left:

"Yar to Captian Picard."

[OOC note: Picard gets to be tortured first and without back-up. The next post is going to be open. Thank you.]

Comments

[tasha_yar]

This was apparently not the day to be late for duty.

"Turbolift 5, deck 2."

Exactly where I would logically be walking from my quarters to the lift. She thinks, but doesn't say out loud. Something is tickling her instincts about Captain Picard's tone, and she hopes this is just another overreaction on her part.

[tea_earlgrey_hot]

"I'm on my way," he says, rising to his feet. "Stay where you are."

Yes, logically that is where Tasha would be coming from. Two years previous to the current date.

There are a great many things Picard could say to her, but before he acts rashly he wants to see what is going on with his own eyes. The voice sounds like Tasha's, certainly. However, that doesn't necessarily mean anything these days, with Q heralding people about from different timelines and alternative universes.

He leaves his ready room and enters the turbolift, giving the command that takes him to Deck 2 and on to her location. A part of him, it must be said, hopes there is nothing to see when he arrives there.

[tasha_yar]

Tasha's eyebrows fly into her bangs and she sucks in a breath through her teeth. Something is wrong. Whatever it was, it's not deadly or else he wouldn't be coming off the bridge to talk to her. He'd summon one of the men she worked with.

5 minutes are like five hours in here, and it makes her focus on the head and body aches which only dulled because she had something else to focus on. She breathed out with her lower lip, flipping her bangs up for a moment, and reminded herself to get a haircut no matter how much her insistence on short hair annoyed the ship's barber.

Stretch. Fidget. Stretch some more. Seriously consider climbing the lift's shaft. Cycle through possible security scenarios which would require Jean-Luc Captain Picard to be coming to see her in person.

She was so lost in thought her back was turned to the door when the door opens. She turns quickly in surprise to face her Captain.

[tea_earlgrey_hot]

There are two operations officers with Picard when the door opens. It may frustrate or perplex her to note that they are not faces she recognizes, having been assigned following her death, but their presence may pale in comparison to the expression on Captain Picard's face.

So. It is her. Or a reasonable enough facsimile of her to pass on first glance.

"Tasha," he says, as if genuinely surprised to see her. You see, he is. "But it is not possible."

[tasha_yar]

She frowns. She takes in the view of the junior officers. Strangers - and the uniforms...

Her eyes move off the officers (and their phasers) and focuses on Captain Picard's face. His hazel eyes are boring into her and his lips are nearly bloodless. He looks...horrified? With her?

It's making her feel disgustingly small. And he just used her first name. He doesn't do that except privately or, maybe, in front of only the closest of senior officers. She doesn't understand what's going on, but whatever is going on she'll get through it; assuring her Captain that she's not something he needs to concern himself with.

She pushes away the shock at his appearance, her physical pain, and anything else that would get in the way of what she'll say next. Squaring her shoulders, she replies.

"Lieutenant Tasha Yar, reporting for duty, sir." There's a pause and confusion creeps into her voice. "Status report?"

[tea_earlgrey_hot]

The words cut to the quick. No illusion could capture so perfectly Natasha Yar, with all her fierce professionalism. Picard is forced to draw in a breath to steady his nerves.

He glances back at the officers accompanying him, and gives a brief nod. They relax, and take a few steps back.

"Very good, Lieutenant Yar," Picard says, endeavoring to find the best way of approaching the situation. "What is the last thing you remember?"

[tasha_yar]

"Waking up this morning, sir," is the offered reply. Then, she adds, with her professionalism slipping ever so slightly and showing Picard that other side he's seen more often than almost anyone: That slightly girlish, out-of-her-depth demeanor she has when her emotions or impulsiveness rear their heads and threaten her attempts at being the perfect, conscientious officer. "I...overslept." She then sighs and admits, "And, honestly, sir. I feel like hell."

He can see her mentally chastising herself for sounding like a sick child reporting to her father - but only because he knows her that well.

[tea_earlgrey_hot]

So he does, but in this moment he pushes all other thought from his mind.

"And before that?" he presses carefully. "Do you remember?"

[tasha_yar]

She furrows her brows, shaking her head lightly while searching her memories. What does she remember?

This court should get down on its knees...

It never happened!

No! The challenge is unequivocally refused.

Just try it, Ferengi!

Now, run! This place isn't safe at all!

Things are coming faster now.

When one is in the penalty box...

What of Justice to Wesley? Does he deserve to die?

I don't know how we'll defeat the next one!

"It's stardate 41601.3," she reported slowly, not looking up. Tasha's voice takes on a light chuckle. "It's been quiet lately. I've been overseeing maintenance and remodeling with Chief Engineer Logan as well as Commander Data and Lieutenant LaForge."

The Three Musketeers and the pompous windbag, she thinks briefly before quashing the impulse to tell Picard that's what the whole exercise felt like to her. She shouldn't report how many time she'd been tempted to knock Logan out so they could get on with the work. Geordi knew more about the conduits than Logan had and had a saint's patience on top of it. Data was, of course, Data, and not everyone could handle that. There's was a note in her report about Logan's manners and that was how professionals operated.

"Last night, I was able to return to my normal bridge shift and after that -" She shrugged and looks up with more focus and her shoulder square again. "That's probably why I'm sore, sir. I was practicing last night for the martial arts competition the security team is holding this week."

What she just gave is not the right answer. The witnessing officers look confused. Picard looks...

"Captain," she takes a step forward. "Tell me what's going on. Please!" Whatever is going on has him looking at her like she's some kind of broken thing. "This - Whatever this is, it isn't right!"

[tea_earlgrey_hot]

Captain Picard feels stabbed to his heart at her words, but he endeavors not to let it show. The experiences she's recounting, the stardate — no, she is right about one thing. None of this is right.

He must school his expression, and though he stands tall his fists clench at his sides. Tasha Yar always was an immaculate officer, disciplined, well-trained, thoughtful, thorough. Echoes of her past did not often come up, and when they did it was his responsibility to temper them with compassion. She has made a request of him, and he would not deny her the answer she seeks.

"Lieutenant Yar," he begins with the same softness he used earlier when calling her Tasha. "I'm afraid the stardate is 44046.7. You have not been aboard the Enterprise for more than two years."

[tasha_yar]

Picard watches as shock turns her deathly pale and light dims from her green eyes.

AWOL.

How did she become that? Where would she even think of going? There was nothing for her anywhere in the universe then here on this ship! She betrayed them. She betrayed Starfleet and everything she believed in or dared to love.

And that hideous voice from her dream burbles up to her consciousness. Did you ever believe you could do anything else? It rattles once before adding. Girl.

She looks away. He watches her center herself slowly; with closed eyes because the tears are coming. She takes in a rattling breath.

"Then," she says in a choked voice. "Under Starfleet regulations regarding officers in deriliction of duty..." She slowly - to show her lack of aggression - unclips the belt holding her phaser and lets it fall. Then she removes her badge and places it in his hand briefly before stepping to the side and looking beyond him.

She nods to the other two officers. "Please," she asks them. "Don't make the Captain take me to the brig. He -" Her voice quavers and she needs a moment to look away.

This is not Q's "penalty box." She won't cry here.

It's only then she makes eye contact again with Picard. "He needs to assemble the senior staff and alert Starfleet regarding my status."

[tea_earlgrey_hot]

Picard watches her, oh yes. And he can read the succession of thoughts passing through her mind almost as easily as if she had spoken them aloud. He does not do her the injustice of presuming, neither does he move in to console her — not immediately, at any rate. She needs to center herself, and he won't interrupt that.

"Yes, in due time," he says, nodding softly. He then turns to the officers, who look more confused than ever, and nods to the discarded phaser. "You may take the lieutenant's weapon and escort us to Sickbay, but she will not be seeing the brig today."

He hastens to add, turning back to Tasha: "That's an order, lieutenant."

If she is the Tasha he remembers, he is aware that nothing less will convince her. She believes she is a deserter, and as such a brigging would be no less than what she deserves. The truth is perhaps far worse than what she can imagine, and he would rather Beverly were at his side for it than imparting it from the other side of a cell.

[tasha_yar]

He knows her well enough that she barely got her mouth open to try and object.

There a faintest hint of an embarrassed grimace, because - for a split second - she found that sexy. While no time is the time, this really is not the time!

She obviously needs to work on hormone control. Still.

Her captain has ordered her, however, and there's nothing she can do about it. Time to face Beverly who will, hopefully, straighten this all out, or at least do something with this damn headache and the stubborn pain in her chest.

Could be worse. She muses. He could have called in Data to try and explain missing time, and would be an interrogation!

"Aye, sir." She glaces at the other two officers as one enters the lift to get her phaser. She hopes she can earn it back.

"The uniforms look more comfortable, at least, sir."