ten_fwd | Entries tagged with tasha yar

( The moments before she arrived.... )

But the humming was special. It was called Heterodyning. Something only her family could do. An Atonal hum that was an instinctive sound made to perfectly counterpoint every noise and filter against it so that she could think without distraction. Hard to tell if it was the humming... or the thinking... that put her so close to mad girl state. But she was hovering on the border of the madness. She turned to signal Violetta to get the girl out of there, NOW.... and realized she was no longer in Paris.

The corridors were familiar but... the humming helped, and everything snapped into place with sudden clarity. She knew where she was. She fell to her feet, screaming with pain, heterodyning done, as EVERY memory slammed its way back into her brain. Her s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/58/6a/ea/586aea8292adf6786dd33fd3a085f9f2.jpg Weasel climbed up from around her ankle to paw at her face, chattering nervously.

How? She felt the madness rising in her, the fugue state that was so much of being a Spark was rising. How? How had she forgotten this place? Why had she wasted so much time trying to get to Paris when there was this place, where there was so much technology, and people who would have been willing to help? How had she forgotten her time here? She had friends here that would have helped her out. Hadn't one of the people she met even said he worked with time travel? And what about Billy? Tasha? Minoru.... so many people she had met here who would have helped her.

And her dingbots. Here? How had she not even noticed the lack? She had just presumed they had all been stuck in Mechanicsburg, but her first dingbot.... when had ANYTHING ever stopped it from returning to her side? How could she have forgotten her friends, this place, this tech...

Clearly... something had messed with her brain. Again. She stood, fury filling her, madness in her eyes. She was sick and tired with people mucking about her brain. First her mother, then this. No. No more! She grabbed the first person she encountered by the front of his or her shirt, lifting the person off the ground, pulling the person close. "I need a knife. Now."

She was going to cut into her own skull, figure out what was going on, and FIX it. Because she was a SPARK, and what was the point of being a Spark if she could not fix everything!?

agathaheterodyne

Agatha sat on her bed, all her gears and tools pushed to one side so that she could sit against the wall, holding a grease stained pillow to her chest, face half buried in it, eyes distant. Tears rolled slowly down her face. She didn't cry often. Growing up, crying used to be one of the many things that triggered the terrible head aches. One of the first things she did on the Baron's castle... was have a very long and cathartic cry. Just because she could. For the first time in as long as she could remember... she could.

But she hadn't cried much since. Plenty of reasons to...but usually she turned that sadness into anger, into energy, into machines.

And then Billy told her he couldn't do something... because he was ordinary.

And something in Aggie broke.

She did what she could to help with the desease, but even science hadn't been able to fully pull her free of the miasma of sorrow. She realized that she had never allowed herself enough time... life hadn't allowed her enough time... to properly grieve for Lars. She hadn't had her tools with her, she had never brought back the dead at that point. It had all been theoretical.

But from his last words... would she have been doing him any favor to bring him back? She wasn't sure.

She wanted someone to talk to. Someone who would understand. But somehow... somehow everyone she could think of, even if they were here would be a bad idea.

Gil would probably focus on all the wrong things. Tarvek would probably agree that Lars wouldn't have had a chance with a strong spark, let alone a Heterodyne. Neither of them would care about all the wonderful things he had going for him, about how wonderful he was. Gil would focus on.... Gears, Gill would probably even sneak off and try to make sure there was nothing left for her to bring back. Not that she could this long after. Not at her skill level.

Zeetha and Maxim would argue that he died a warrior's death and should be left to that. A proud death.

Lilith...

She stopped short, mentally.

Okay. So.. Lilith, the woman who raised her, who had been her mother in every way other than genetic... Lilith would understand. Adam would understand. Adam would be there with a warm supporting hug. Lilith would know just what to say.

She missed them with an ache that never went away.

Two more people who died because of her. Who died loving her.

And as much as that should be what hurt worst...about loosing Lars, that he'd still be alive if not for her... it wasn't. It was what he said at the end. His last words. They were burned into her skull.

<i>"'s probably for the best, really. A Heterodyne girl." a small laugh that brought blood to his lips. "An ordinary guy like me... Never had a chance."</I>

She could have fallen in love with him. She almost had. And she had never. NEVER seen him as ordinary. She admired how brave he was, even though he was always so scared. A cheese-maker's apprentice turned circus scout. He faced all the weird madboy stuff to come to save her. Time and time again.

Their weird moments on stage, the odd way just talking to him made her feel...

And he thought.... he thought she would have dismissed him... because... he was ordinary?

Hurt. That hurt in a different way than his death did. And she didn't understand it. That he died should hurt more. That he died because of her should hurt more. But it was the fact that he died... thinking that about her...

That was what was sticking with her. What kind of a horrible person was she... because of that?

tasha_yar

[Takes place after this post with things being lost or stolen from various parts of the ship. This is where to report your tales of woe.]

The door to Tasha and Agatha's quarters chimes. By habit, Tasha comes to the door, still wearing her sleepshirt, and looking like she was in the middle of morning exercises.

That's quite the line-up out there.

knight_2000

Tasha had asked him to meet her at Holodeck 3. It was a bit surprising, as he'd never before visited one of the Holodecks, though his curiosity about them was insatiable. He didn't know if he was allowed to use them, and never wanted to ask, for fear of disappointment. Being invited had him practically bouncing off the walls, most undignified for an AI, he knew. He had no idea what Tasha had planned, but he was sure to find out soon enough.

When he saw Tasha waiting there for him, his smile was wide and bright, all anticipation.

"You rang, sir?" A bit of twentieth-century humor, don't mind him.

tasha_yar

The first thing you when assigned a new duty is get the layout. Tasha's been down below decks for quiet awhile, but she's done her best to stay off the radar. Observe, report, but engage in only a limited way.

Now that she's back in her uniform and has a duty, it's time to get to know people.

She buzzes the door chime.

tasha_yar

Starfleet does much to assure that their officers do not burn out; that they have a balance between personal needs and professional work. This is to assure peak efficiency in officers.

Tasha is hating it right now. The Displaced have been cataloged, for now. There's gaps missing in interviews and power profiles that, now that things are more settled, they might be more forthcoming about. There's still the matter of telling people they now have a member of the Senior Staff to actually come talk to.

But, no. today is a rest day. Dr. Crusher and the Captain put their foot down about it, and there was no flanking that front.

So today, is a "stay in the quarters and read," day. Or, more likely, it will turn into a "try to read and see what Agatha ends up building because it might not be quiet." Either way, it's a day away from what she feels she needs to do.

She remembers joking (badly) in her academy days that she would rest when she was dead. No such luck.

engineermage

The cat found him first

Which made sense. Veena acted as Trever's eyes and ears. What she saw, he saw and in a place like this he would have her roaming about. Everyone knows that cats wander around like they own the place and are very good at getting away from their humans, so most people wouldn't suspect that she was out and about at Trever's behest and that he would be giving her suggestions where to go.

The fact that she could teleport made it even better.

But within minutes of Veena spotting Kale, Trever came running, crashing into his brother and pulling him into a hug.

"Where did you come from? Is anyone else here?" Trever began, rapidly firing off questions.

Kale answers them just as quickly, their words quickly devolving into a short hand they've developed over the years. Soon they discover that they've been pulled from essentially the same moment.

"I guess they'll have to find someone else to be unicorn bait now," Trever said happily, because really, he was not looking forward to that.

"I think that they're going to be giving up unicorn hunting and instead go us hunting."

Pressing his lips together, Trever sighed a bit, "Yeah, you're right. I feel sorry for everyone they're going to go after." Throwing an arm around his twin's shoulder, Trever then added, "Come on, let me show you around."

So now people are probably going to be thinking they're seeing double as there's two of Trever walking around. And they'd sort of be right.

Later....

The twins have landed in ten forward, as all people tend to do and are sitting at one of the tables near the windows chatting quietly together, though occasionally one of them - the one with the gloves - makes a bit of a wild gesture with one hand. They've got some things out on the table; some electronic some ... just a cat.

Though definitely discussing things, they're also definitely botherable.

notalwaysstrong

Mack Gerhardt didn't do downtime well.

He could feel the restlessness creeping into his mind, the irritability itching away. This wasn't exactly the time to go stir crazy over the people here, and Mack, showing remarkable self-clarity, had decided to do something about it.

Contacting the security personnel on his floor, he put in a request for a phaser, low power, could do nothing but, at worst, stun people... and that's only if Mack tampers with it. Why? To use on the phaser range, of course. He'd tried hunting on the holodeck, but it wasn't the same. Everything seemed real, but there was always that sense of fakeness in the back of his head.

And that didn't help stop the restlessness.

So, he's stood there, weapon in hand, in the blue segment of the arena, ready to start. There's a security officer at the door, but he won't stop people going in. It's mostly to make sure the phaser gets returned at the end of Mack's session.

There is, of course, space for one more player.

tasha_yar

(Takes place after Night Terrors)

Now that the panic had settled, Tasha felt ridiculous. She was small and her nightshirt was practically a tent on her. She'd run several people through a merry chase through the ship. Worse, when asked where she should be taken in order to help her calm down, she'd blurted out something kind of stupid.

But, she always did feel safe there and the curiosity might have been manageable to an adult brain. To a pre-adolescent mind, the weight of it was growing intolerable.

Tasha had told people there was an artificial lifeform on board. She'd behave herself and be in effective quarantine if she was taken to those quarters. See? Good, logical choices - even if there were other motivations at work.

What she hadn't been aware of were...upgrades...to the ship's compliment.

tasha_yar

Tasha Yar had been dreaming. There'd been stars. She had touched the stars.

She coughed, but it didn't wake her fully.

The food had been laced with something again. Something that made you less hungry, but never fed you. Maybe she should be more content with it. She had, after all, dreamed of the stars. But now she was drenched in sweat while shivering. Her eyes played tricks on her. She still half perceived she was wrapped up tight in sheets. The room was neat and clean and had a bed in it. The other half was coming into focus. Her legs were dangled in debris from the Spring runoff. Her legs were coated in water and some kind of black, evil-smelling pitch or tar that was making her ill just to breathe.

"Have to get out," she mutters. But in her muddled state she can't break free. She's too small and she swears she hears the dark, dank water laugh.

She rips off the tangles and leaps for the...Is it a door?

Whatever it is - "Open, damn you!"

It obliges, sending her tumbling out into another room; a room she doesn't bother to examine before continuing to run.

ten_fwd_npcs

[[ Moments earlier, in Transporter Room 1... ]]

Picard re-enters Ten Forward tonight, this time leading a group of three. Only one appears to be in a Starfleet uniform, though it isn't precisely like the ones guests see every day. The color is command red, but there is extensive gold trimming which indicates that this officer is of a higher rank than any the Enterprise entertains on a daily basis.

"All of our guests, at one time or another, come to Ten Forward," Picard tells them. He looks tired already. After this, he will certainly need a cup of earl grey tea. "Most appear here on their first visit to the ship, and as such it's one of the few places they are allowed until they pass quarantine."

"Until you let them loose on the rest of the ship, and even give them employment, you mean?" the Vice Admiral counters.

Captain Picard sighs.

"Are the displaced guests allowed to mingle with the rest of the complement?" the woman asks, surprised. She stifles a yawn behind her hand, embarrassed by the slip. She's inexplicably tired all of a sudden.

"Yes, of course," Captain Picard answers. "The alternative would be keeping them under lock and key. We don't allow them in restricted areas, of course, but they are free to visit any civilian areas of the ship."

The third person among them, by far the most innocuous and average-looking of the group, slips into the crowd.

"Clearly we have a lot of work ahead of us," the Vice Admiral sighs, fixing Picard with a pointed look.

[ooc: ~casually floods the comm with Picard's face, oops~ OK, so here's the promised arrivals post for your June plots. If you're getting your characters involved in the little rascals plot, you can send one around to bump into one of our three NPCs. By tomorrow, you'll all look a little younger. If you signed up for an encounter with one of these officers, you can start first impressions here. We'll be sending links to a more formal "questioning" for all characters in the sign-ups post. This is NOT your only opportunity to get in on the kid plot. Once the first few tag in, they will be contagious and tagging them in their logs will pass the virus onto your characters. If this post gets flooded we may close it to new tags, just so we can give everyone who does tag in our full attention. If you want a thread with one NPC in particular, let us know in the subject line of your tag, otherwise we'll pull one from the random hat for you. Picard is not open for tags, but he does have an OTA post here if you need him.]

tea_earlgrey_hot

When all is said and done, it takes somewhat longer for Captain Picard to arrange a meeting with his former Chief of Security than he would have otherwise liked. After his meeting with his Chiefs of Staff (and his subsequent conversation with Counselor Troi), something rather unexpected happened.

"Crusher to Picard ... Do you have a minute, Jean-Luc?"

The disappearance of his chief medical officer right on the heels of the announcement that Starfleet were sending representatives to his ship had, to put it quite lightly, thrown him for a loop. Now Beverly is from some point in the future fresh from some experience she won't divulge (and he understands that, honestly — it is the proper course to take, even if it is maddening for him on a personal level), and Command will be here any day now.

His mind was someplace else for some days. As was his person, once Deanna started pressing him to talk about his feelings on the matter. So far he has done a decent job of avoiding it, but he knows he can't avoid it forever. Once he has spoken with Tasha and, hopefully, once his ship has been returned to his command alone, there will be no convenient distractions to ward her off.

At least for today he only has to worry about one potentially difficult conversation.

He makes the request that Tasha meet him in the observation lounge. The seats around the table are all empty save for the one he occupies at the head; he wants this to be a private conversation, at least to start with. Once he has her answer, there will be plenty of opportunities for the rest of the crew to join them.

[ooc: plot-locked for

tasha_yar, but don't worry; he'll have an OTA post soon!]

tasha_yar

Tasha hadn't want to scare anyone - or worse - have their pity. She'd been here on some nights before, but always in disguise and making it a point to watch, but not interact, with anyone. Also, she didn't like to admit it, but she loved make-up. Not the kind that Deanna or Beverly wore to bring out their features. That kind of make-up wasn't for her. It didn't feel right on. She didn't like extra attention regarding her appearance; a holdover from Turkana IV, she supposed.

But make-up to disguise? To conceal who and what you were and be able to become someone else? She had an incredible love of that. She justified her enjoyment by its usefulness as a skill, but it was more than that. It was a chance to be someone without the burden of duty or a past. Someone more normal - unless the part called for something else.

The risk of discovery also played a big part in both the thrill of the challenge and the growing irritation at her self-imposed isolation. Tasha justified it easily. She might disappear at any moment - or maybe even drop dead - because "dead" was still her official status, though Picard had assured her the wheels of bureaucracy were getting a firm push regarding all that. Starfleet's reluctance was understandable with all the strange happenings onboard the ship, but it gnawed at her patience. She didn't want to upend anyone's life, but she missed them! It would also mean opening herself up to stacks of unfinished business, too, but she was tired of avoiding her friends - even is she still thought keeping her distance might remain the best course of action.

At least her insistence on isolation had gotten her caught up on as much security information and protocols a civilian had access to. Well, a civilian and a cadet. It turned out the Academy hadn't cancelled her alumni access. There wasn't much dangerous in that, but "not much" wasn't "nothing" by a longshot. She'd have to talk to them about that.

Tasha's tired of keeping to herself and making Aggie feel like she's rooming with a crazy hermit. Tonight, she's keeping her "disguise" to a hooded sweatshirt. It's time to go Ten Forward, to stop being someone else, face what, if anything, comes of it.

tasha_yar

Entry

ten_fwd_npcs

As if the indignity he'd already suffered during Q's round of supposedly amusing wardrobe changes weren't enough, Lt. Worf had found himself transplanted from his proper place in the timeline last month. He is, however, now returned to his rightful position, and once again, he is the one in charge of making sure their new guests are settled in an orderly manner.

Now that a number of new passengers have been cleared by Dr. Crusher's medical team for ship-wide access, it falls upon Worf's shoulders to assign them quarters and instruct them on the correct behavior and protocols needed for life aboard the Enterprise. The new arrivals have been shepherded together, and are awaiting their instructions.

He has gathered everyone in Ten Forward to instruct them on how to proceed. As he has done this before, he has a speech prepared, one which is by now familiar to him:

"The computer will instruct you on where all cleared-for-access decks are. You only have to ask where the area you are trying to get to is located, and it will give you clear directions. Do not visit any restricted areas. The bridge, engine rooms, transporter rooms, and all command centers are off-limits.

"With that in mind, there are a few rules you must obey before I give you your new assignments. One, do not discharge any weapon while on the Enterprise. Two, do not assault any other passenger aboard in any way; that includes injury, death, or violating their personal rights. Three, do not tamper with the operational procedures of the ship. Four, do not steal items or technology from the ship. Five, do not interrupt any official areas of the ship without proper authorization, and do not invade the privacy of other guest or crew quarters.

"Copies of the Prime Directive will be made available to all of you, and placed in each room. As you are not Starfleet officers, you are not obligated to abide by this rule; however, it is important you understand why we do.

"Now, the rooms," he rumbles, reading off the list of quarters, their location, and the guests who will be sharing them.

Deck 07, Section 4
Room # 0729 - Theiorn and Aiylisha
Room # 0766 - Katniss Everdeen and Prim Everdeen
Room # 0767 - Finnick Odair and Haymitch Abernathy
Room # 0768 - Peeta Mellark and Annie Cresta
Room # 0769 - Magneto and Winnowill
Room # 0771 - Emma Swan and Merlin
Room # 0772 - Kimberly Hart and Inari Raith
Room # 0773 - Firion and Weyoun
Room # 0774 - Tasha Yar and Agatha Heterodyne
Room # 0776 - Samus Aran and Alec Lightwood
Room # 0777 - Alex Rogan and Sean Slater
Room # 0778 - Harry Dresden

"I will remain here to answer questions," Worf concludes. "And my team will be standing by to escort you where you need to be."

The list is also displayed on a PADD, where people can refer to it if they need to.

[ooc: Open log for building CR with new roommates and meeting neighbors, "party post" style! Rooms are aligned the way they would be in a typical hotel: odd numbers on the left, even numbers on the right (so 0711 and 0713 will be next door neighbors, while 0712 is directly across the hall). There is a post in the OOC comm where players can connect with questions and find more details about the rooms themselves, so check in over there. If you need to ask security questions, or need them to swing by another thread, just put "Security officer, please!" in the subject line of your tag, and the mods will send someone to you ASAP. ]

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.]

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Ten Forward Social Lounge

And many madgirl returns of the day - Open - corridors

Locked to Tasha - Back dated to just after kiddie event

Reporting Things Lost or Stolen

Reality, Illusions, and the Things in Between

Beat Cop on Beat (For Doc Brown + Roommate)

Days Off?

Double Vision - OTA

Phaser Range - OTA

(Closed) Im/Possible Things

Night Terror

[Ten Forward:] Arrival of Starfleet Brass

[Observation Lounge:] Meeting with Tasha Yar [CLOSED]

(Open) The Stranger

Personal Log 44047.7

[Ten Forward]: Rooming Assignments | Round #7

Wakes

Ten Forward

Important Links

Tags

March 2016

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