[fic] Return of a Champion (Chapter 2)
May. 31st, 2010 06:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
akainagiReturn of a Champion (Chapter 2)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
akainagi (conceptual credit to chrismata1976)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Star Trek: The Next Generation/Alice in Wonderland crossover
Pairings: Tarrant/T’Lara, Data/Tasha
Summary: Centuries later, the direct descendent of Alice Kingsley, now serving on the USS Enterprise, is called on to aid Underland. Unfortunately, a few other people get sucked along for the ride.
It’s not that Queen Mirana was unsympathetic to the pleas of her old friend the Hatter; she simply saw them for what they really were.
Her friend, hero of the revolution, the most gifted milliner Underland had ever seen, wanted to die.
He was mad, but not stupid. He hid his true intentions well. He had been the one to awaken the sleeping beast and cause it to wreak havoc through Underland. He begged the Queen for a chance to put things right. To allow him to take on the beast himself.
She flatly forbade it. He was not the Champion, she told him in kind yet firm voice which brooked no arguments to the contrary. She pointed out to him, not unkindly, that he was not the spry figure of his youth. Thanks to his interfering with time once too often, the vengeful beast had aged him. His brilliant shock of red hair was now streaked with grey, and the shock of being thrown into middle-age all at once had done nothing to improve his already mad state. He was no match for the beast which was now tearing Underland asunder. It would make short work of him.
We must wait for the Champion, she told him. The one who would save them all. The one who was foretold in the Oraculum. She would come and put Underland to rights.
That had put the Hatter in a right foul mood. For him, there would be no other Champion but Alice, and he had grown grey waiting for her return. He despaired. And when the madness took him he raged, calling out her name so that it echoed through the halls of Marmoreal.
The day that he came and asked Mirana to make him the champion, to let him lead a hopeless fight for Underland’s future, she knew that he had finally given up hope.
And when his hope died, he wished to follow it.
~*~*~*~*~
Tasha was in as foul a mood as Data had ever seen her. He had grown adept at Tasha-reading over the last several years. On the outside she was calm (if overly silent) professionalism. But the set of her jaw and the flash in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.
She was pissed.
Q tended to have that effect on her. And they had good reason to be pessimistic, he supposed. They were on a strange world, without so much as a phaser of a tricorder between them. They knew nothing about the land which they now traveled, heading eastward through the forest per Q’s instructions. It was a sickly looking land, with most of the flora browning and dead. A thick carped of dead leaves coated the forest floor, crunching as the trio walked.
Data processed and reprocessed the clues Q had given them. A verse from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and a world called Underland. He calculated that there was about a 0.9% chance that was a coincidence. References to a Champion. But in what context? There were several definitions of the term: 1 : warrior, fighter, 2 : a militant advocate or defender, 3 : one that does battle for another's rights or honor, 4 : a winner of first prize or first place in competition, 5 : one who shows marked superiority. In many senses it was odd that the least militarily capable among them should be referred to as a warrior. So perhaps she would be expected to participate in a competition of some kind?
But Q had also referred to T’Lara as one that was foretold in the Oraculum, a Latin term meaning, among other things, a prophetic declaration or prophecy. Perhaps learning more about T’Lara herself might yield up some connection.
“Lieutenant T’Lara.”
“Sir?” she responded.
“Have you any knowledge of why Q would call you ‘Champion?’” he asked with his usual directness.
“None at all, Sir.” She answered just as directly.
Data had suspected as much. “Q claims you are A Champion foretold by prophecy. In the interest of endeavoring to learn why, would you tell us about yourself? Perhaps there is something in your past which would shed light on our current predicament.”
T’Lara’s face remained impassive. “I doubt it will yield any pertinent information, but very well. My full name is T’Lara Kingsley of the clan of Senir. My mother is Vulcan; T'sei of the Clan of Senir. My father was human by the name of Kirk Kingsley. I was raised on Vulcan by my mother after my father chose to return to Earth. He later died there. I joined Starfleet against my mother’s wishes at age 25. She and I have not spoken in 4.7 standard years. I have few paternal relatives.”
“You are bonded?” Data asked bluntly.
Tasha finally interjected, “Data, that’s kind of a personal question.”
T’Lara shook her head, “It is of no consequence. No I am not. I was bonded per Vulcan tradition at a young age, but my mate was killed in a transporter accident ten years ago. My mother wished me to find a new bondmate as soon as possible to carry on the family line. I felt my path lay in another direction.”
“Starfleet.” Tasha stated.
“Affirmative.” T’Lara replied. "I can think of no reason why we have been brought here other that Q's obviously capricious personality."
Data processed all this information. As the Vulcan had surmised, there seemed to be nothing that connected her to their current straits.
They walked in silence for a time, each minding their own thoughts. It was not an overly pleasant trek. The air was hot and heavy and stagnant. The smell of rotting leaves filled the air. Data, with his superior vision, spied a clearing up ahead.
“We will rest in this clearing before continuing.” He was cognizant of the fact that his biological companions did not have the stamina with which he was gifted. Tasha’s shoulders were slumped with weariness, which meant she was well and truly taxed. They had been walking for several hours straight.
When they reached the strange clearing they both turned to T’Lara, who gave an involuntary gasp.
“I know this place,” she told her two superiors. Her cool Vulcan façade was replaced momentarily by a look of wonderment. “I’ve dreamt of this place.”
Before them stretched the chessboard on which T’Lara had witnessed the great battle of her dreams. And there were the stairs on which she had fought and beheaded the gruesome creature.
“Intriguing.” Data said simply.
“Wait,” Tasha said disbelievingly. “You saw this place in your dreams?”
T’Lara nodded. “Yes. It was the site of a great battle. There was a reptilian creature which I was tasked with slaying.”
“And did you?” Data asked.
“Yes.” T’Lara replied as she approached the base of the imposing staircase. “I beheaded it at the top of these stairs. And then the battle stopped. And there was a man. He called me Alice. And then I woke up.”
That got Data’s full attention. “He called you Alice? You are sure?”
“Quite.”
“The passage Q recited to us earlier was from a book by a nineteenth century Earth author named Lewis Carroll,” Data informed his female companions. “The book he wrote was called Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”
Tasha frowned. “And now Wonderland is Underland. Why do I get the feeling Q is just jerking us around.”
Data was forced to admit the possibility. “Perhaps,” he replied. “T’Lara, please tell us more about your dream. There may be other details that are significant.”
So T’Lara began to replay her dream in as much detail as she could remember. Both women sat on the steps of the spiral staircase as she told of the battle between men and beasts, of white and red, of her battle with the reptilian creature. When she reached the part about the man in the tall hat who called her Alice, it was Tasha’s turn to give a gasp of shock.
“Was he pale with red hair and green eyes?” she asked urgently.
T’Lara’s own eyes widened in surprise. “Yes. How do you know this?”
Tasha frowned the way she always did when she was concentrating very hard on something. “I’ve seen him in my dreams. I’ve also seen a woman in white with a crown, and a white castle with a checkerboard lawn.”
“Intriguing,” Data interjected. “I have experienced seeing a white castle during my own dream cycles as well.”
Tasha’s frown deepened. “Well, there’s only one explanation for it.”
“Which is?” T’Lara asked.
“That bastard Q’s been messing with all our heads.” She growled.
“Perhaps,” Data said. “It would explain the similarities in our dreams. For now I suggest we continue to this place Q called ‘The Castle at Marmoreal.’ It may indeed be the castle from our dreams.”
The trio continued on to the east, T’Lara taking one last look at the chessboard with its staircase to nowhere.
T’Lara spent the next two hours of walking taking in her surroundings, looking for anything else that might jog her memory. The one thing she did notice was that the sun in this land moved very slowly. By her calculations it had barely moved at all and nearly six hours had passed. It still shone directly overhead. The heat from the sun did not bother her. It didn’t even approach the heat of midday on Vulcan. But she could tell her human counterpart was suffering from it. Sweat stood out on Yar’s forehead in beads, which she routinely wiped away with the back of her hand. Her respect for the Security Chief rose a few notches. She knew some of her human shipmates who would be whining and begging for a rest after an hour in these conditions. Yar, however, faced her situation with stoicism worthy of a Vulcan.
She watched Data subtly approach his mate and ask her in a low voice (but not so low that keen Vulcan ears couldn’t hear) if she needed a rest. She heard Yar’s whispered denial and insistence that they continue. Data acquiesced, but T’Lara could see he was keeping a watchful eye on her condition.
Lieutenant Commanders Data and Yar’s relationship was a hot topic of conversation even among the junior crewmembers. She remembered two of her female crewmates expressing disgust that the Security Chief would lower herself to, as they put it, “screw that walking computer.” T’Lara remembered wondering if the crewman who uttered that statement realized its inherent irony, not to mention bigotry. Which was worse, T’Lara had been tempted to ask the mouthy woman, having a stable relationship spanning years with a walking computer, or jumping into a new bed every week as that particular crewmate was rumored to do.
She was startled out of her reverie by Data’s announcement that they were approaching another clearing at the top of the ridge, where they would rest.
All three stood wide-eyed at the top of the ridge.
Below them, in the valley, stood a multi-spired, enormous white castle. It didn’t look exactly like the castle they had all pictured in their dreams. The lawn and gardens, like the forest, was brown and decayed looking. Even the brilliant white of the castle looked dingy with age.
“Marmoreal,” Tasha said in a slightly awestruck voice. “What do you want to bet this is where I find the white queen from my dreams?”
T’Lara didn’t say it, but she wondered if this was where they would find the man with the glowing green eyes. The one with the tall hat. The one who had looked at her so proudly in her dreams. The one who called her “Alice.”
The three began making their way down the long path that led over a bridge and to the Palace entrance. The Path was so long it took them nearly another half an hour to reach the palace proper. There they found themselves stopped by two guards in white armor, each of them wielding a very sharp looking spear which they used to bar the travelers’ way.
“What business have ‘ye at the palace?” asked one of the guards.
Tasha fairly bristled at the sight of the armed men, and, not for the first time, cursed the fact that she had no phaser.
Data, diplomatic as ever, replied, “We request an audience with your ruler.”
The guard scoffed. “The Queen has no time for commoners such as ‘ye.”
Data set his positronic brain to working on a different approach. Yes, that might work.
“Tell the Queen the Champion has arrived.”
Both guards’ eyes went wide at the statement. “Truly?” one of them asked hopefully.
Data gestured to T’Lara, “We bring the Champion to the Queen; surely she will grant the Champion an audience?”
The guards fell all over each other in fits of apology. One of them escorted the trio inside the palace, through twisting halls that were, not surprisingly, white.
They reached a set of enormous doors and the guard told them to wait while he announced them to the Queen.
T’Lara, for all her calm Vulcan demeanor on the outside, was cursing the fact that Data had introduced her as the Champion. Whatever prophecies these people believed, she was champion of nothing. Clearly Data had only thought at far as getting them in to see the Queen, who could hopefully provide an explanation as to why they were here.
The guard stepped aside and ushered them into an enormous throne room. At the head of the room sat an ornate throne, and on that ornate throne sat the Queen. T’Lara could tell from the look of recognition on Yar’s face that this was the queen from her dreams. She was probably the most aesthetically pleasing human T’Lara had ever seen. She had golden hair and delicate features, and was garbed in a shining white gown.
The queen immediately rose and came down from the dais. She looked first at Data, then Tasha, and then as her eyes settled on T’Lara she let out a soft gasp. “Oh, my dear, you do look so much like her.” She approached T’Lara with hope in her eyes and a beneficent smile on her lips.
T’Lara didn’t know why, but the gracious demeanor and soft dulcet tones of the Queen set her at ease. “Who, may I ask, do I look so much like?”
“Why, Alice, of course,” the Queen replied. “She was the Champion before you. She led us to victory in the great revolution. But alas she left and never returned to us. But now you are here. You are the Champion foretold in the Oraculum. You will save Underland from the beast that is tearing our dear land apart. You will lead us to victory on Uhrturm Day.”
T’Lara was outwardly unmoved. “I believe you are mistaken, Your Majesty. I am an Engineer by training and trade. A scientist. I am no warrior. I am not your Champion.”
The Queen let out a soft laugh. “Alice said the same thing when I first met her. And she proved herself wrong.” She stepped back and took in the sight of the three travelers. “But my manners escape me. You must be tired, hungry, thirsty. I can see you have traveled far. I will show you to your rooms so you may rest and refresh yourselves. Tomorrow is early enough to speak of these things. Come.”
T’Lara and Tasha looked to Data, as the ranking officer, for their cue. When he followed the Queen without argument, they did the same.
When the doors to the throne room parted they revealed a lone figure, obviously waiting for an audience. When T’Lara saw who it was, she stopped dead in her tracks. The hair was graying at the edges, the face had many more lines than in her dreams, but there was no mistaking that silhouette. Or those green eyes that bored into her. It was like the rest of the room fell away and it was only him and her and that gaze that seemed to see straight into her.
“Alice?”
With greater speed than she thought a human to possess, he was before her in an instant. And when he grabbed her hand with his own it was like she was assaulted with a thousand emotions, each radiating with the strength of a small sun. Hope, fear, excitement, bottomless sorrow and boundless love bombarded her consciousness. She could not even find the strength to pull away, the shock to her senses was so great. The last thing she saw before she passed out was those eyes, glowing with a mad brilliance, and the last thing she felt was a sadness so great it seemed without end.
Author:
akainagi (conceptual credit to chrismata1976)Rating: PG-13
Genre: Star Trek: The Next Generation/Alice in Wonderland crossover
Pairings: Tarrant/T’Lara, Data/Tasha
Summary: Centuries later, the direct descendent of Alice Kingsley, now serving on the USS Enterprise, is called on to aid Underland. Unfortunately, a few other people get sucked along for the ride.
It’s not that Queen Mirana was unsympathetic to the pleas of her old friend the Hatter; she simply saw them for what they really were.
Her friend, hero of the revolution, the most gifted milliner Underland had ever seen, wanted to die.
He was mad, but not stupid. He hid his true intentions well. He had been the one to awaken the sleeping beast and cause it to wreak havoc through Underland. He begged the Queen for a chance to put things right. To allow him to take on the beast himself.
She flatly forbade it. He was not the Champion, she told him in kind yet firm voice which brooked no arguments to the contrary. She pointed out to him, not unkindly, that he was not the spry figure of his youth. Thanks to his interfering with time once too often, the vengeful beast had aged him. His brilliant shock of red hair was now streaked with grey, and the shock of being thrown into middle-age all at once had done nothing to improve his already mad state. He was no match for the beast which was now tearing Underland asunder. It would make short work of him.
We must wait for the Champion, she told him. The one who would save them all. The one who was foretold in the Oraculum. She would come and put Underland to rights.
That had put the Hatter in a right foul mood. For him, there would be no other Champion but Alice, and he had grown grey waiting for her return. He despaired. And when the madness took him he raged, calling out her name so that it echoed through the halls of Marmoreal.
The day that he came and asked Mirana to make him the champion, to let him lead a hopeless fight for Underland’s future, she knew that he had finally given up hope.
And when his hope died, he wished to follow it.
~*~*~*~*~
Tasha was in as foul a mood as Data had ever seen her. He had grown adept at Tasha-reading over the last several years. On the outside she was calm (if overly silent) professionalism. But the set of her jaw and the flash in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.
She was pissed.
Q tended to have that effect on her. And they had good reason to be pessimistic, he supposed. They were on a strange world, without so much as a phaser of a tricorder between them. They knew nothing about the land which they now traveled, heading eastward through the forest per Q’s instructions. It was a sickly looking land, with most of the flora browning and dead. A thick carped of dead leaves coated the forest floor, crunching as the trio walked.
Data processed and reprocessed the clues Q had given them. A verse from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and a world called Underland. He calculated that there was about a 0.9% chance that was a coincidence. References to a Champion. But in what context? There were several definitions of the term: 1 : warrior, fighter, 2 : a militant advocate or defender, 3 : one that does battle for another's rights or honor, 4 : a winner of first prize or first place in competition, 5 : one who shows marked superiority. In many senses it was odd that the least militarily capable among them should be referred to as a warrior. So perhaps she would be expected to participate in a competition of some kind?
But Q had also referred to T’Lara as one that was foretold in the Oraculum, a Latin term meaning, among other things, a prophetic declaration or prophecy. Perhaps learning more about T’Lara herself might yield up some connection.
“Lieutenant T’Lara.”
“Sir?” she responded.
“Have you any knowledge of why Q would call you ‘Champion?’” he asked with his usual directness.
“None at all, Sir.” She answered just as directly.
Data had suspected as much. “Q claims you are A Champion foretold by prophecy. In the interest of endeavoring to learn why, would you tell us about yourself? Perhaps there is something in your past which would shed light on our current predicament.”
T’Lara’s face remained impassive. “I doubt it will yield any pertinent information, but very well. My full name is T’Lara Kingsley of the clan of Senir. My mother is Vulcan; T'sei of the Clan of Senir. My father was human by the name of Kirk Kingsley. I was raised on Vulcan by my mother after my father chose to return to Earth. He later died there. I joined Starfleet against my mother’s wishes at age 25. She and I have not spoken in 4.7 standard years. I have few paternal relatives.”
“You are bonded?” Data asked bluntly.
Tasha finally interjected, “Data, that’s kind of a personal question.”
T’Lara shook her head, “It is of no consequence. No I am not. I was bonded per Vulcan tradition at a young age, but my mate was killed in a transporter accident ten years ago. My mother wished me to find a new bondmate as soon as possible to carry on the family line. I felt my path lay in another direction.”
“Starfleet.” Tasha stated.
“Affirmative.” T’Lara replied. "I can think of no reason why we have been brought here other that Q's obviously capricious personality."
Data processed all this information. As the Vulcan had surmised, there seemed to be nothing that connected her to their current straits.
They walked in silence for a time, each minding their own thoughts. It was not an overly pleasant trek. The air was hot and heavy and stagnant. The smell of rotting leaves filled the air. Data, with his superior vision, spied a clearing up ahead.
“We will rest in this clearing before continuing.” He was cognizant of the fact that his biological companions did not have the stamina with which he was gifted. Tasha’s shoulders were slumped with weariness, which meant she was well and truly taxed. They had been walking for several hours straight.
When they reached the strange clearing they both turned to T’Lara, who gave an involuntary gasp.
“I know this place,” she told her two superiors. Her cool Vulcan façade was replaced momentarily by a look of wonderment. “I’ve dreamt of this place.”
Before them stretched the chessboard on which T’Lara had witnessed the great battle of her dreams. And there were the stairs on which she had fought and beheaded the gruesome creature.
“Intriguing.” Data said simply.
“Wait,” Tasha said disbelievingly. “You saw this place in your dreams?”
T’Lara nodded. “Yes. It was the site of a great battle. There was a reptilian creature which I was tasked with slaying.”
“And did you?” Data asked.
“Yes.” T’Lara replied as she approached the base of the imposing staircase. “I beheaded it at the top of these stairs. And then the battle stopped. And there was a man. He called me Alice. And then I woke up.”
That got Data’s full attention. “He called you Alice? You are sure?”
“Quite.”
“The passage Q recited to us earlier was from a book by a nineteenth century Earth author named Lewis Carroll,” Data informed his female companions. “The book he wrote was called Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”
Tasha frowned. “And now Wonderland is Underland. Why do I get the feeling Q is just jerking us around.”
Data was forced to admit the possibility. “Perhaps,” he replied. “T’Lara, please tell us more about your dream. There may be other details that are significant.”
So T’Lara began to replay her dream in as much detail as she could remember. Both women sat on the steps of the spiral staircase as she told of the battle between men and beasts, of white and red, of her battle with the reptilian creature. When she reached the part about the man in the tall hat who called her Alice, it was Tasha’s turn to give a gasp of shock.
“Was he pale with red hair and green eyes?” she asked urgently.
T’Lara’s own eyes widened in surprise. “Yes. How do you know this?”
Tasha frowned the way she always did when she was concentrating very hard on something. “I’ve seen him in my dreams. I’ve also seen a woman in white with a crown, and a white castle with a checkerboard lawn.”
“Intriguing,” Data interjected. “I have experienced seeing a white castle during my own dream cycles as well.”
Tasha’s frown deepened. “Well, there’s only one explanation for it.”
“Which is?” T’Lara asked.
“That bastard Q’s been messing with all our heads.” She growled.
“Perhaps,” Data said. “It would explain the similarities in our dreams. For now I suggest we continue to this place Q called ‘The Castle at Marmoreal.’ It may indeed be the castle from our dreams.”
The trio continued on to the east, T’Lara taking one last look at the chessboard with its staircase to nowhere.
T’Lara spent the next two hours of walking taking in her surroundings, looking for anything else that might jog her memory. The one thing she did notice was that the sun in this land moved very slowly. By her calculations it had barely moved at all and nearly six hours had passed. It still shone directly overhead. The heat from the sun did not bother her. It didn’t even approach the heat of midday on Vulcan. But she could tell her human counterpart was suffering from it. Sweat stood out on Yar’s forehead in beads, which she routinely wiped away with the back of her hand. Her respect for the Security Chief rose a few notches. She knew some of her human shipmates who would be whining and begging for a rest after an hour in these conditions. Yar, however, faced her situation with stoicism worthy of a Vulcan.
She watched Data subtly approach his mate and ask her in a low voice (but not so low that keen Vulcan ears couldn’t hear) if she needed a rest. She heard Yar’s whispered denial and insistence that they continue. Data acquiesced, but T’Lara could see he was keeping a watchful eye on her condition.
Lieutenant Commanders Data and Yar’s relationship was a hot topic of conversation even among the junior crewmembers. She remembered two of her female crewmates expressing disgust that the Security Chief would lower herself to, as they put it, “screw that walking computer.” T’Lara remembered wondering if the crewman who uttered that statement realized its inherent irony, not to mention bigotry. Which was worse, T’Lara had been tempted to ask the mouthy woman, having a stable relationship spanning years with a walking computer, or jumping into a new bed every week as that particular crewmate was rumored to do.
She was startled out of her reverie by Data’s announcement that they were approaching another clearing at the top of the ridge, where they would rest.
All three stood wide-eyed at the top of the ridge.
Below them, in the valley, stood a multi-spired, enormous white castle. It didn’t look exactly like the castle they had all pictured in their dreams. The lawn and gardens, like the forest, was brown and decayed looking. Even the brilliant white of the castle looked dingy with age.
“Marmoreal,” Tasha said in a slightly awestruck voice. “What do you want to bet this is where I find the white queen from my dreams?”
T’Lara didn’t say it, but she wondered if this was where they would find the man with the glowing green eyes. The one with the tall hat. The one who had looked at her so proudly in her dreams. The one who called her “Alice.”
The three began making their way down the long path that led over a bridge and to the Palace entrance. The Path was so long it took them nearly another half an hour to reach the palace proper. There they found themselves stopped by two guards in white armor, each of them wielding a very sharp looking spear which they used to bar the travelers’ way.
“What business have ‘ye at the palace?” asked one of the guards.
Tasha fairly bristled at the sight of the armed men, and, not for the first time, cursed the fact that she had no phaser.
Data, diplomatic as ever, replied, “We request an audience with your ruler.”
The guard scoffed. “The Queen has no time for commoners such as ‘ye.”
Data set his positronic brain to working on a different approach. Yes, that might work.
“Tell the Queen the Champion has arrived.”
Both guards’ eyes went wide at the statement. “Truly?” one of them asked hopefully.
Data gestured to T’Lara, “We bring the Champion to the Queen; surely she will grant the Champion an audience?”
The guards fell all over each other in fits of apology. One of them escorted the trio inside the palace, through twisting halls that were, not surprisingly, white.
They reached a set of enormous doors and the guard told them to wait while he announced them to the Queen.
T’Lara, for all her calm Vulcan demeanor on the outside, was cursing the fact that Data had introduced her as the Champion. Whatever prophecies these people believed, she was champion of nothing. Clearly Data had only thought at far as getting them in to see the Queen, who could hopefully provide an explanation as to why they were here.
The guard stepped aside and ushered them into an enormous throne room. At the head of the room sat an ornate throne, and on that ornate throne sat the Queen. T’Lara could tell from the look of recognition on Yar’s face that this was the queen from her dreams. She was probably the most aesthetically pleasing human T’Lara had ever seen. She had golden hair and delicate features, and was garbed in a shining white gown.
The queen immediately rose and came down from the dais. She looked first at Data, then Tasha, and then as her eyes settled on T’Lara she let out a soft gasp. “Oh, my dear, you do look so much like her.” She approached T’Lara with hope in her eyes and a beneficent smile on her lips.
T’Lara didn’t know why, but the gracious demeanor and soft dulcet tones of the Queen set her at ease. “Who, may I ask, do I look so much like?”
“Why, Alice, of course,” the Queen replied. “She was the Champion before you. She led us to victory in the great revolution. But alas she left and never returned to us. But now you are here. You are the Champion foretold in the Oraculum. You will save Underland from the beast that is tearing our dear land apart. You will lead us to victory on Uhrturm Day.”
T’Lara was outwardly unmoved. “I believe you are mistaken, Your Majesty. I am an Engineer by training and trade. A scientist. I am no warrior. I am not your Champion.”
The Queen let out a soft laugh. “Alice said the same thing when I first met her. And she proved herself wrong.” She stepped back and took in the sight of the three travelers. “But my manners escape me. You must be tired, hungry, thirsty. I can see you have traveled far. I will show you to your rooms so you may rest and refresh yourselves. Tomorrow is early enough to speak of these things. Come.”
T’Lara and Tasha looked to Data, as the ranking officer, for their cue. When he followed the Queen without argument, they did the same.
When the doors to the throne room parted they revealed a lone figure, obviously waiting for an audience. When T’Lara saw who it was, she stopped dead in her tracks. The hair was graying at the edges, the face had many more lines than in her dreams, but there was no mistaking that silhouette. Or those green eyes that bored into her. It was like the rest of the room fell away and it was only him and her and that gaze that seemed to see straight into her.
“Alice?”
With greater speed than she thought a human to possess, he was before her in an instant. And when he grabbed her hand with his own it was like she was assaulted with a thousand emotions, each radiating with the strength of a small sun. Hope, fear, excitement, bottomless sorrow and boundless love bombarded her consciousness. She could not even find the strength to pull away, the shock to her senses was so great. The last thing she saw before she passed out was those eyes, glowing with a mad brilliance, and the last thing she felt was a sadness so great it seemed without end.
