Return of a Champion (Chapter 3)
Jun. 2nd, 2010 04:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
akainagiReturn of a Champion (Chapter 3)
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.
Tarrant had arrived at the throne room, ready to plead his case to the Queen again. If she would just let him battle the beast himself. He would best the monster or die trying. Either way he might find some modicum of peace.
The Queen was just leaving the throne room with three of the most strangely dressed people he had ever laid eyes on, and he had seen some hideous outfits. But what drew his complete attention was not the fashion faux pas.
It was her. Before he could think, before he could even consider the fact that he was in error, he was beside her, taking that beautiful, delicately boned hand he had last held hundreds of years ago. It had to be her. The face was the same, she was the same perfect Alice-size, her hair was the same mass of curls, although darker than he remembered it.
His emotions overwhelmed him, as they so often were wont to do. And it was the strangest thing. When he held her hand it was like he could feel what she was feeling. This, more than anything else convinced him of his grave mistake.
She was terrified of him.
He watched in horror as she convulsed and collapsed to the ground at his touch. Her hair fell away into a halo around her and he could see that the woman’s ears tapered to a delicate point. Her skin had a green tint to it that could be a sign of her malady or could be her natural coloring.
His heart, as fast as it had soared, sank even more quickly.
With a hasty apology he took off down the hall of the palace, the roar of madness so loud in his ears that he didn’t hear the queen calling after him. He fairly ran to his workshop, locked himself inside, and proceeded to visit destruction on anything and everything he could lay hand to, including himself. Cloth was ripped, hats were squashed flat, thread and feathers flew everywhere. The scissors didn’t get thrown, though. The scissors he saved for himself, running them across his hands with an agonizing slowness. This pain. This was what he deserved. He had doomed Underland with his selfish actions. And now he had mistaken another for his beloved Alice, dishonoring her memory.
He deserved this pain.
~*~*~*~*~
Data easily scooped up the petite half-Vulcan and followed Queen Mirana to the three adjoining rooms that were to be their quarters during their stay. Data gently laid the prostrate form of T’Lara in the bed, and, taking off her boots for her, announced that he would keep watch over her until she awoke. She did not appear to be in any serious condition. Her breathing was normal and even. The encounter with the man named Tarrant must have simply been too much emotion for her touch-telepath’s mind to take.
So Tasha and Queen Mirana left him to keep watch over his subordinate. Had it been just Tasha, he would have liked to kiss her goodnight, he thought idly. He always enjoyed kissing her, and it would be a welcome act of normalcy in a day that had been anything but.
~*~*~*~*~
Tasha couldn’t help herself. After they left T’Lara’s room, she voiced the question that had been eating at her ever since she saw him in the flesh.
“Your Majesty,” she began. “Who was that man in the hat?”
The Queen sighed, a somber look coming over her face. “His name is Tarrant Hightopp, although some at court refer to him simply as ‘The Mad Hatter.”’
“Mad Hatter?”
The Queen nodded. “Yes. He is a milliner by trade. A maker of hats and clothes. The finest in all Underland. He is the last of his clan. They were all murdered by order of the previous queen. Since then he has been quite mad.”
Tasha’s eyes widened. An entire clan wiped out? The previous Queen must have been a terrible despot.
“Of course he is far worse since Alice left us,” the Queen continued. "He loved her so dearly, she was like a part of him. But she chose to leave and go back to her own world, promising to return.”
“But she never did?” Tasha asked
“No,” the Queen shook her head sadly. “Now every day his madness seems to take over more and more of him. He is one of my oldest and dearest friends. It hurts my heart to see him suffer so. Please understand that he didn’t mean to hurt the young lady. And please don’t hold this against him. For a moment, I'm quite sure he thought that Alice had finally come back to him.”
“I don’t intend to hold a grudge. I can only speak for myself, though,” Tasha replied.
The Queen smiled weakly. “I understand. Now I will let you get some rest.”
“May I ask one more thing before you go, Your Majesty?”
“Of course,” the Queen replied.
“How long are the days in this land? It’s been daylight for over twelve hours, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to get dark anytime soon.”
The monarch sighed. “Time is a touchy subject these days. One that is best addressed tomorrow, once you are all refreshed. I shall have the kitchen make you all something to eat and have it brought to you.”
Tasha thanked the Queen and watched her depart gracefully down the hall. She opened the door to her room. It was elegantly furnished with a large bed, similar to the one T’Lara was sleeping in right now.
As Tasha investigated her room she realized it had an adjoining bathroom, and someone had already pre-drawn a steaming hot bath in anticipation of her arrival. She had always been a proponent of the more efficient sonic showers, but she was in noposition to be picky. She lowered herself slowly into the steaming water. It was nigh-on blissful. Tasha didn’t think had ever enjoyed a good soap and water cleansing as much as she did at this moment. She even scrubbed her hear for good measure.
Emerging reluctantly from the bath, she dried herself off and put on the white linen nightclothes that had been left on the bed, presumably for her use. She was just in time to answer the knock at the door. It was one of the palace guards bringing her a steaming bowl of stew. Gods, she was famished. She made short work of the meal. It was delicious.
Once finished, she went over and sat by the window, looking out over the dead and dying landscape. Hopefully tomorrow they would find out exactly what T’Lara’s task as supposed Champion would entail, and what part she and Data would play in this farce.
Tasha found this all too much to swallow. Champions slaying beasts, Mad Hatters, queens and castles. It certainly smacked of Q's penchant for melodrama. But the longer it dragged on, the less sure she was that this was merely the obnoxious alien's entertainment. The people here seemed so real.
Speaking of Q …
What had possessed her to insist on staying in this place? Q had offered to send her back to the Enterprise. Sure, she could pretend that she stayed as a Security Chief; to stay and protect her superior, the Second in Command of the Enterprise. But she knew that was bullshit.
It had been a serious lapse in judgement, one that Data hadn't corrected her on. She should have returned to the Enterprise immediately and informed the captian of Q's latest foray into kidnapping Starfleet personell.
A rebelious voice in her mind told her she had simply not wanted to be separated from Data. That she did not want to be sent back to the Enterprise to wait and wonder if he was ever coming back. Like the Mad Hatter waiting for his Alice. She sighed heavily and made her way over to the bed. It was as comfortable as it looked. She lay there, unable to sleep until her thought processes would shut up enough to let her do so.
She had always prided herself on being independent. On being strong. On being able to stand on her own two feet without the support of anyone. And now she was here, stuck in a strange fantasy world because she had made the wrong choice between protocol and her lover.
Amazing," she thought as she frowned at the ceiling. She had effectively lived with the android for two years. And she had failed to realize how attached she was until someone threatened (literally) to take him away. Even now she was wishing he was there in the bed beside her, because she had gotten so used to him over the years that him not being there just seemed wrong somehow.
Oh, the irony. What she had intended to be a sexual, uncomplicated relationship had turned into the love of her life to date. And what was worse, she wasn’t sure if he did, or even could, love her back.
~*~*~*~*~
The sun never really did set that night, although the women slept through it nonetheless. Data preferred to stay awake that night, analyzing the day’s events, even after T’Lara awoke and assured him that she was fine and just needed rest. So he went to his room and spend hours in computations and contemplations until a guard came to each door, knocking politely and announcing it was morning. In a land where the sun didn’t set, he supposed they had developed a system of telling night from day by way of announcement. The guard also brought changes of clothes for each of them, courtesy of the Queen. Noting the poor state his uniform was in after their trek through the woods, he decided to take the Queen up on her offer. The simple black pants and pale grey shirt fit like they were made for him.
The next order of business was to check on the women. He went out into the hallway and knocked on Tasha’s door.
“Who is it?” she called through the heavy wooden door.
“It is me.”
Her voice bade him enter
He entered to find Tasha in a state of half-dress. She wore a loose linen skirt that reached her ankles and on top nothing but her bra. She hastily pulled on a diaphanous white blouse embroidered with silver flowers. In their years together he had rarely seen her in such clasically feminine attire. It lent her a softness that was more than a little appealing. She caught him staring.
“What?” she asked testily.
“You …” his positronic brain tried to think of the best way to say this that didn’t come over wrong.
“What?” she repeated. “Grew a second head, have a booger hanging out of my nose, I’ve got bed-head, what?”
“You look lovely.” He said simply.
Her scowl fell away, replaced by a sheepish half-smile. “Thanks,” she replied. “And I’m sorry I’m so bitchy. Had a hard time getting to sleep.”
“You are still having the dreams?”
“No,” she answered. “Dreams are gone. Something was wrong with the bed.”
Data looked at her, puzzled. “What was wrong with the bed?”
She walked over and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “You weren’t in it.”
Before he could respond she was out the door, headed to T’Lara’s room. He stood there for a moment. He touched the part of his cheek that had met her lips. “Intriguing,” he said to no one in particular, and with a small smile on his face, followed Tasha out into the hall.
He got to T’Lara’s room just as Tasha was entering. They found T’Lara, also garbed in new clothes, sitting on the bed practicing some Vulcan meditation techniques. She wore a white dress embroidered with blue trim. She came out of her meditation and stood at attention when the two officers entered the room. “Lieutenant Commanders,” she acknowledged primly.
“At ease, Lieutenant,” Tasha said smoothly. “It occurs to me that we’re not exactly in a situation that lends itself to command structure, so I think we can dispense with a few of the formalities.” The corner's of Yar's mouth quirked into a smile. "Like the parade rest." She gestured to the other woman's rigid stance.
T'Lara looked to Data, who nodded his approved.
T’Lara smoothly transitioned into a more restful position that, for a Vulcan, was probably close to slouching. “Understood.”
“Now that that’s settled,” Tasha said. “How are you feeling?”
“Through rest and meditation, I have been able to bring the unwanted emotions under control.” T’Lara frowned, “I must apologize for my weakness.”
“It’s not your fault,” Tasha assured her. “Queen Mirana told me all about our friend in the hat.” She related what the Queen had told her about the Hatter.
“So he believed I was his missing lover.” T’Lara stated. That would explain the great well pain and emptiness she had felt inside Tarrant Hightopp. Most Vulcans would consider such a display obscene. She was not most Vulcans. It rather stirred her to pity.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was one of the guards. “The Queen requests your presence at breakfast. I am to escort you to the dining hall.”
They trio followed the guard until they reached a room with a great long table, at the head of which sat the Queen. She stood to greet them. “Data, T’Lara, Tasha, please sit by me. And don’t be shy, there’s plenty of food, and the tea is wonderful. We have the best cook in Underland working our kitchen.” A loud crash came from the vicinity of said kitchen, and the three looked at each other warily. “Oh, that’s just Thackery, our chef. He’s a fantastic cook, but a bit high strung."
They took their seats at the table. T’Lara helped herself to a scone and a cup of tea. The Queen hadn’t been idly boasting; the tea was very well made.
Once everyone had eaten, and was sitting sipping their tea, Data broached the subject that they were all waiting to discuss.
“Your Majesty. Will you now share with us the reason we have been brought here? Why does Underland need a Champion, and why must it be Lieutenant T’Lara?”
“Very well,” the Queen said solemnly. She caught the attention of one of the guards by the door. “Have McTwisp bring the Oraculum, please.” The guard bowed and went to do the Queen’s bidding.
The Queen took a deep breath. “First I will start by saying that Underland is not at all meant to be what you see before you now. The forests, up until recently, were lush and green. The gardens at Marmoreal were the best in all of Underland. But now it is dying; burnt by the blistering sun which rarely sets. It’s been a full week since the last nightfall.”
“Time, you see, is quite running amok.”
She continued despite the skeptical expressions of her breakfast companions. “Our dear Hatter, well-intentioned, but not altogether sane, aroused time into a frenzy by demanding it reverse itself back to the day Alice left us. He planned to convince her to stay. But time would not do Tarrant’s bidding and Tarrant tried to kill time in his despair. But he only succeeded in driving it into a rage. Since then time has been running inconsistently. Sometimes forwards, sometimes backwards, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing, sometimes stopping completely. It is threatening to tear Underland apart.”
At that moment an elderly rabbit in a waistcoat hopped slowly into the dining hall leaning heavily on a cane, carrying a large scroll. Now it was Tasha’s turn to nearly pass out. What the hell kind of a place was this?
“Data. Do you see a rabbit in a vest carrying a cane and a scroll?” Tasha asked in a low voice.
“Yes.”
“Thank God,” Tasha breathed. “I thought I’d gone insane.”
“Here is the Oraculum, as you requested, Your Majesty,” McTwisp said in a voice that wavered with age.
“Thank you, McTwisp, that will be all.”
The rabbit hobbled off whatever other tasks awaited him.
“McTwisp is a case in point,” said the Queen. “Normally beings in Underland do not age. Time runs in a circular pattern. But now that time has become linear, and inconsistent at that, some of us aged many years overnight. Others found themselves returned to infancy. Time visited that curse on the Hatter as well. When he came back from the Lair of Time, he was twenty years older than when he had left Marmoreal that morning.”
The Queen spread out part of the scroll. “The Oraculum is a calendar. It shows every day from the beginning of Underland into forever,” she explained. “Here,” she pointed out, “Was the Frabjous day. The day the Champion Alice slew the Jabberwocky and brought peace to Underland.” She unrolled the scroll further. “And this is Federbremse Day; the day that time began to run amok.” She scrolled further still. “And here is Uhrturm Day. The day you, T’Lara, will subdue time and set Underland back to rights.”
The picture on the scroll showed the exact likeness of T’Lara, sword raised, facing off against a creature that resembled a mix of a lion and an iguana gone horribly wrong. The beast was several times over her size, but she was portrayed standing her ground, sword at the ready.
T’Lara became more overwhelmed with each word. She was to slay a giant beast and save this woman’s world? Besides being illogical in the extreme, it was impossible. Tasha, with her background as a warrior, or Data, with the speed and strength of an Android, stood a better chance. T’Lara abruptly stood up from the table, her face a stony mask. “Your Majesty, if you will excuse me, I believe I need some air.” She walked out of the dining hall as fast as her legs could carry her, leaving three stunned tablemates behind.
Data was about to get up and go after her when he felt Tasha’s hand on his own. “I’ll go after her. I think she’s feeling overwhelmed by all this.”
The queen shook her head sadly. “I wish I had the time to slowly prepare her, but time is decidedly not on our side.”
Tasha followed T’Lara out into the hallway, and, imagining she had gone back to her room, headed upstairs. On the way to their quarters she spied a small balcony. T’Lara stood there, looking out over the decaying landscape.
“T’Lara?” Tasha queried.
“Sir. I apologize for my behavior. I am letting my emotions get the better of me.”
“T’Lara, from what I can tell you’ve just been tasked with saving a world,” the Security Chief said in her most empathetic tone. “You’re overwhelmed.”
“It is not merely that,” T’Lara continued. “I feel … not myself. Ever since yesterday when the Hatter touched my mind. I feel … I fear I cannot put it into words you would understand.”
“You feel out of control,” Tasha guessed.
“Yes,” T’Lara answered. “I believe that is one way of putting it.”
Tasha smiled, leaning back against the balcony railing. “I used to be obsessed with control. With never letting anyone see my weaknesses, never letting anyone in to see who I really was.”
T’Lara was intrigued. “And what changed?”
“Time. Work. Working on a starship and relying on hundreds of people to do their jobs correctly tends to teach you how very little you can actually control,” She said wryly. “And relationships taught me that sometimes I have to give up some control to really experience life, and that sometimes you need to rely on someone else to fill the spaces where you're lacking.” The security chief glanced back toward the dining hall.
“The Lieutenant Commander.” T’Lara stated.
Tasha smiled wryly. “Now if you said that a year or so ago I would have gotten all red-faced and defensive."
T'Lara blushed slightly green herself. She statement had been inappropriately personal. She opened her mouth to apologize.
Yar waved her off with an amused expression. "I know the ship's rumor mill. Wouldn't be much of a security chief if I didn't. The point is that if the me from years ago could see the me of today, she'd probably have a coronary.” Her face turned serious. “What I mean to say is that you don’t know what you’re capable of doing until you step up and try. And if it gets to be too much, ask for help. Data and I will back you to the hilt, make no mistake about that.”
T’Lara couldn’t help but think that the Lieutenant Commander’s subordinates were lucky to have such a person serving over them. “Thank you,” the Vulcan replied with a very small, but grateful smile.
The security chief grinned. “Tasha," she corrected, much to the younger officer's surprise. "I refuse to discuss my lovelife with someone who refers to me by rank."
T'Lara did indeed blush green this time.
Tasha faught back a chuckle. "We should probably get back before Data starts scouring the castle looking for us.”
A clearing of the throat came from the doorway to the balcony, startling both women.
Tarrant Hightopp, a.k.a. the Mad Hatter, stood in the archway. “I would like to speak privately to Miss ... T’Lara.”
Tasha went from kindly to prickly in 0.5 seconds. “That’s Lieutenant T’Lara, and you’ll forgive me if I say no. Last time you spoke to her she ended up unconscious.”
“I wish to make my apologies,” he explained.
“It is fine, Comman- ... Tasha,” T’Lara assured her. For some reason she didn’t find the man iminently threatening. She should probably be more wary of him given the instability she had seen in his mind.
“You sure?” Tasha asked warily.
T’Lara nodded. “I will be in soon.”
So Tasha walked past Tarrant, giving him a look that implied violence were anything untoward to occur. The security chief headed back to the dining hall.
Tarrant kept a respectful distance from T’Lara. He took off his hat and held it in his bandaged hands. “I wish to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I had mistaken you for someone else.”
“For Alice,” T’Lara stated.
Tarrant winced at the name, and T’Lara instantly regretted saying it. She had seen inside this poor, damaged soul; had seen his great gaping emptiness. She held nothing but sympathy for him.
“You look so much like her. For a moment I thought … but no. Are you perhaps related to her?” he asked.
“It is doubtful,” T’Lara said. “What was her full name?”
“Alice Kingsley.”
T’Lara’s eyes widened. “My father’s surname name was Kingsley. My full name is T'Lara Kingsley.”
The Hatter smiled weakly. “I see. So you are related to her. No wonder she never came back. She probably married and bore children. Perhaps you are one of her descendents.” His expression drew painfully tight.
“I … I do not know what to say,” T’Lara said honestly.
Tarrant shook his head. “You needn’t say anything.” He paused for a moment, looking uneasy. “I don’t wish to be rude, but your ears, your skin color …”
T’Lara found nothing rude in the innocent query. “I am only half human. My mother is Vulcan. All Vulcans have these. We are also touch-telepaths. That is why when you touched me … well, the sensations were overwhelming.”
“Touch-telepaths?”
“When we touch a person, especially at certain points on the body, we can read their thoughts,” she explained.
“Oh! No wonder you fainted.” Tarrant tapped his head with his finger. “It’s no fun in here. I’m ‘round the bend, you see.”
“You are full of pain, guilt, anger, loss … loneliness,” T’Lara remembered how each of those feelings had felt as they coursed from his body into hers.
“Well,” Tarrant said awkwardly. “Like I said, my head is not a pretty place. Again, I apologize for my intrusiveness yesterday. You weren’t meant to experience that.”
“Apology accepted,” T’Lara replied.
“Thank you.” He put his hat back on. “Well, goodbye, T’Lara Kingsley.”
“Goodbye, Tarrant Hightopp.” T’Lara watched him disappear through the balcony archway.
She stood on the balcony a few moments more, staring at the place where Tarrant had stood. She was forced to wonder how it was that a single creature could carry such pain and grief inside him. Something about him wrapped itself around her heart, and refused to let go.
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.
Tarrant had arrived at the throne room, ready to plead his case to the Queen again. If she would just let him battle the beast himself. He would best the monster or die trying. Either way he might find some modicum of peace.
The Queen was just leaving the throne room with three of the most strangely dressed people he had ever laid eyes on, and he had seen some hideous outfits. But what drew his complete attention was not the fashion faux pas.
It was her. Before he could think, before he could even consider the fact that he was in error, he was beside her, taking that beautiful, delicately boned hand he had last held hundreds of years ago. It had to be her. The face was the same, she was the same perfect Alice-size, her hair was the same mass of curls, although darker than he remembered it.
His emotions overwhelmed him, as they so often were wont to do. And it was the strangest thing. When he held her hand it was like he could feel what she was feeling. This, more than anything else convinced him of his grave mistake.
She was terrified of him.
He watched in horror as she convulsed and collapsed to the ground at his touch. Her hair fell away into a halo around her and he could see that the woman’s ears tapered to a delicate point. Her skin had a green tint to it that could be a sign of her malady or could be her natural coloring.
His heart, as fast as it had soared, sank even more quickly.
With a hasty apology he took off down the hall of the palace, the roar of madness so loud in his ears that he didn’t hear the queen calling after him. He fairly ran to his workshop, locked himself inside, and proceeded to visit destruction on anything and everything he could lay hand to, including himself. Cloth was ripped, hats were squashed flat, thread and feathers flew everywhere. The scissors didn’t get thrown, though. The scissors he saved for himself, running them across his hands with an agonizing slowness. This pain. This was what he deserved. He had doomed Underland with his selfish actions. And now he had mistaken another for his beloved Alice, dishonoring her memory.
He deserved this pain.
~*~*~*~*~
Data easily scooped up the petite half-Vulcan and followed Queen Mirana to the three adjoining rooms that were to be their quarters during their stay. Data gently laid the prostrate form of T’Lara in the bed, and, taking off her boots for her, announced that he would keep watch over her until she awoke. She did not appear to be in any serious condition. Her breathing was normal and even. The encounter with the man named Tarrant must have simply been too much emotion for her touch-telepath’s mind to take.
So Tasha and Queen Mirana left him to keep watch over his subordinate. Had it been just Tasha, he would have liked to kiss her goodnight, he thought idly. He always enjoyed kissing her, and it would be a welcome act of normalcy in a day that had been anything but.
~*~*~*~*~
Tasha couldn’t help herself. After they left T’Lara’s room, she voiced the question that had been eating at her ever since she saw him in the flesh.
“Your Majesty,” she began. “Who was that man in the hat?”
The Queen sighed, a somber look coming over her face. “His name is Tarrant Hightopp, although some at court refer to him simply as ‘The Mad Hatter.”’
“Mad Hatter?”
The Queen nodded. “Yes. He is a milliner by trade. A maker of hats and clothes. The finest in all Underland. He is the last of his clan. They were all murdered by order of the previous queen. Since then he has been quite mad.”
Tasha’s eyes widened. An entire clan wiped out? The previous Queen must have been a terrible despot.
“Of course he is far worse since Alice left us,” the Queen continued. "He loved her so dearly, she was like a part of him. But she chose to leave and go back to her own world, promising to return.”
“But she never did?” Tasha asked
“No,” the Queen shook her head sadly. “Now every day his madness seems to take over more and more of him. He is one of my oldest and dearest friends. It hurts my heart to see him suffer so. Please understand that he didn’t mean to hurt the young lady. And please don’t hold this against him. For a moment, I'm quite sure he thought that Alice had finally come back to him.”
“I don’t intend to hold a grudge. I can only speak for myself, though,” Tasha replied.
The Queen smiled weakly. “I understand. Now I will let you get some rest.”
“May I ask one more thing before you go, Your Majesty?”
“Of course,” the Queen replied.
“How long are the days in this land? It’s been daylight for over twelve hours, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to get dark anytime soon.”
The monarch sighed. “Time is a touchy subject these days. One that is best addressed tomorrow, once you are all refreshed. I shall have the kitchen make you all something to eat and have it brought to you.”
Tasha thanked the Queen and watched her depart gracefully down the hall. She opened the door to her room. It was elegantly furnished with a large bed, similar to the one T’Lara was sleeping in right now.
As Tasha investigated her room she realized it had an adjoining bathroom, and someone had already pre-drawn a steaming hot bath in anticipation of her arrival. She had always been a proponent of the more efficient sonic showers, but she was in noposition to be picky. She lowered herself slowly into the steaming water. It was nigh-on blissful. Tasha didn’t think had ever enjoyed a good soap and water cleansing as much as she did at this moment. She even scrubbed her hear for good measure.
Emerging reluctantly from the bath, she dried herself off and put on the white linen nightclothes that had been left on the bed, presumably for her use. She was just in time to answer the knock at the door. It was one of the palace guards bringing her a steaming bowl of stew. Gods, she was famished. She made short work of the meal. It was delicious.
Once finished, she went over and sat by the window, looking out over the dead and dying landscape. Hopefully tomorrow they would find out exactly what T’Lara’s task as supposed Champion would entail, and what part she and Data would play in this farce.
Tasha found this all too much to swallow. Champions slaying beasts, Mad Hatters, queens and castles. It certainly smacked of Q's penchant for melodrama. But the longer it dragged on, the less sure she was that this was merely the obnoxious alien's entertainment. The people here seemed so real.
Speaking of Q …
What had possessed her to insist on staying in this place? Q had offered to send her back to the Enterprise. Sure, she could pretend that she stayed as a Security Chief; to stay and protect her superior, the Second in Command of the Enterprise. But she knew that was bullshit.
It had been a serious lapse in judgement, one that Data hadn't corrected her on. She should have returned to the Enterprise immediately and informed the captian of Q's latest foray into kidnapping Starfleet personell.
A rebelious voice in her mind told her she had simply not wanted to be separated from Data. That she did not want to be sent back to the Enterprise to wait and wonder if he was ever coming back. Like the Mad Hatter waiting for his Alice. She sighed heavily and made her way over to the bed. It was as comfortable as it looked. She lay there, unable to sleep until her thought processes would shut up enough to let her do so.
She had always prided herself on being independent. On being strong. On being able to stand on her own two feet without the support of anyone. And now she was here, stuck in a strange fantasy world because she had made the wrong choice between protocol and her lover.
Amazing," she thought as she frowned at the ceiling. She had effectively lived with the android for two years. And she had failed to realize how attached she was until someone threatened (literally) to take him away. Even now she was wishing he was there in the bed beside her, because she had gotten so used to him over the years that him not being there just seemed wrong somehow.
Oh, the irony. What she had intended to be a sexual, uncomplicated relationship had turned into the love of her life to date. And what was worse, she wasn’t sure if he did, or even could, love her back.
~*~*~*~*~
The sun never really did set that night, although the women slept through it nonetheless. Data preferred to stay awake that night, analyzing the day’s events, even after T’Lara awoke and assured him that she was fine and just needed rest. So he went to his room and spend hours in computations and contemplations until a guard came to each door, knocking politely and announcing it was morning. In a land where the sun didn’t set, he supposed they had developed a system of telling night from day by way of announcement. The guard also brought changes of clothes for each of them, courtesy of the Queen. Noting the poor state his uniform was in after their trek through the woods, he decided to take the Queen up on her offer. The simple black pants and pale grey shirt fit like they were made for him.
The next order of business was to check on the women. He went out into the hallway and knocked on Tasha’s door.
“Who is it?” she called through the heavy wooden door.
“It is me.”
Her voice bade him enter
He entered to find Tasha in a state of half-dress. She wore a loose linen skirt that reached her ankles and on top nothing but her bra. She hastily pulled on a diaphanous white blouse embroidered with silver flowers. In their years together he had rarely seen her in such clasically feminine attire. It lent her a softness that was more than a little appealing. She caught him staring.
“What?” she asked testily.
“You …” his positronic brain tried to think of the best way to say this that didn’t come over wrong.
“What?” she repeated. “Grew a second head, have a booger hanging out of my nose, I’ve got bed-head, what?”
“You look lovely.” He said simply.
Her scowl fell away, replaced by a sheepish half-smile. “Thanks,” she replied. “And I’m sorry I’m so bitchy. Had a hard time getting to sleep.”
“You are still having the dreams?”
“No,” she answered. “Dreams are gone. Something was wrong with the bed.”
Data looked at her, puzzled. “What was wrong with the bed?”
She walked over and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “You weren’t in it.”
Before he could respond she was out the door, headed to T’Lara’s room. He stood there for a moment. He touched the part of his cheek that had met her lips. “Intriguing,” he said to no one in particular, and with a small smile on his face, followed Tasha out into the hall.
He got to T’Lara’s room just as Tasha was entering. They found T’Lara, also garbed in new clothes, sitting on the bed practicing some Vulcan meditation techniques. She wore a white dress embroidered with blue trim. She came out of her meditation and stood at attention when the two officers entered the room. “Lieutenant Commanders,” she acknowledged primly.
“At ease, Lieutenant,” Tasha said smoothly. “It occurs to me that we’re not exactly in a situation that lends itself to command structure, so I think we can dispense with a few of the formalities.” The corner's of Yar's mouth quirked into a smile. "Like the parade rest." She gestured to the other woman's rigid stance.
T'Lara looked to Data, who nodded his approved.
T’Lara smoothly transitioned into a more restful position that, for a Vulcan, was probably close to slouching. “Understood.”
“Now that that’s settled,” Tasha said. “How are you feeling?”
“Through rest and meditation, I have been able to bring the unwanted emotions under control.” T’Lara frowned, “I must apologize for my weakness.”
“It’s not your fault,” Tasha assured her. “Queen Mirana told me all about our friend in the hat.” She related what the Queen had told her about the Hatter.
“So he believed I was his missing lover.” T’Lara stated. That would explain the great well pain and emptiness she had felt inside Tarrant Hightopp. Most Vulcans would consider such a display obscene. She was not most Vulcans. It rather stirred her to pity.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was one of the guards. “The Queen requests your presence at breakfast. I am to escort you to the dining hall.”
They trio followed the guard until they reached a room with a great long table, at the head of which sat the Queen. She stood to greet them. “Data, T’Lara, Tasha, please sit by me. And don’t be shy, there’s plenty of food, and the tea is wonderful. We have the best cook in Underland working our kitchen.” A loud crash came from the vicinity of said kitchen, and the three looked at each other warily. “Oh, that’s just Thackery, our chef. He’s a fantastic cook, but a bit high strung."
They took their seats at the table. T’Lara helped herself to a scone and a cup of tea. The Queen hadn’t been idly boasting; the tea was very well made.
Once everyone had eaten, and was sitting sipping their tea, Data broached the subject that they were all waiting to discuss.
“Your Majesty. Will you now share with us the reason we have been brought here? Why does Underland need a Champion, and why must it be Lieutenant T’Lara?”
“Very well,” the Queen said solemnly. She caught the attention of one of the guards by the door. “Have McTwisp bring the Oraculum, please.” The guard bowed and went to do the Queen’s bidding.
The Queen took a deep breath. “First I will start by saying that Underland is not at all meant to be what you see before you now. The forests, up until recently, were lush and green. The gardens at Marmoreal were the best in all of Underland. But now it is dying; burnt by the blistering sun which rarely sets. It’s been a full week since the last nightfall.”
“Time, you see, is quite running amok.”
She continued despite the skeptical expressions of her breakfast companions. “Our dear Hatter, well-intentioned, but not altogether sane, aroused time into a frenzy by demanding it reverse itself back to the day Alice left us. He planned to convince her to stay. But time would not do Tarrant’s bidding and Tarrant tried to kill time in his despair. But he only succeeded in driving it into a rage. Since then time has been running inconsistently. Sometimes forwards, sometimes backwards, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing, sometimes stopping completely. It is threatening to tear Underland apart.”
At that moment an elderly rabbit in a waistcoat hopped slowly into the dining hall leaning heavily on a cane, carrying a large scroll. Now it was Tasha’s turn to nearly pass out. What the hell kind of a place was this?
“Data. Do you see a rabbit in a vest carrying a cane and a scroll?” Tasha asked in a low voice.
“Yes.”
“Thank God,” Tasha breathed. “I thought I’d gone insane.”
“Here is the Oraculum, as you requested, Your Majesty,” McTwisp said in a voice that wavered with age.
“Thank you, McTwisp, that will be all.”
The rabbit hobbled off whatever other tasks awaited him.
“McTwisp is a case in point,” said the Queen. “Normally beings in Underland do not age. Time runs in a circular pattern. But now that time has become linear, and inconsistent at that, some of us aged many years overnight. Others found themselves returned to infancy. Time visited that curse on the Hatter as well. When he came back from the Lair of Time, he was twenty years older than when he had left Marmoreal that morning.”
The Queen spread out part of the scroll. “The Oraculum is a calendar. It shows every day from the beginning of Underland into forever,” she explained. “Here,” she pointed out, “Was the Frabjous day. The day the Champion Alice slew the Jabberwocky and brought peace to Underland.” She unrolled the scroll further. “And this is Federbremse Day; the day that time began to run amok.” She scrolled further still. “And here is Uhrturm Day. The day you, T’Lara, will subdue time and set Underland back to rights.”
The picture on the scroll showed the exact likeness of T’Lara, sword raised, facing off against a creature that resembled a mix of a lion and an iguana gone horribly wrong. The beast was several times over her size, but she was portrayed standing her ground, sword at the ready.
T’Lara became more overwhelmed with each word. She was to slay a giant beast and save this woman’s world? Besides being illogical in the extreme, it was impossible. Tasha, with her background as a warrior, or Data, with the speed and strength of an Android, stood a better chance. T’Lara abruptly stood up from the table, her face a stony mask. “Your Majesty, if you will excuse me, I believe I need some air.” She walked out of the dining hall as fast as her legs could carry her, leaving three stunned tablemates behind.
Data was about to get up and go after her when he felt Tasha’s hand on his own. “I’ll go after her. I think she’s feeling overwhelmed by all this.”
The queen shook her head sadly. “I wish I had the time to slowly prepare her, but time is decidedly not on our side.”
Tasha followed T’Lara out into the hallway, and, imagining she had gone back to her room, headed upstairs. On the way to their quarters she spied a small balcony. T’Lara stood there, looking out over the decaying landscape.
“T’Lara?” Tasha queried.
“Sir. I apologize for my behavior. I am letting my emotions get the better of me.”
“T’Lara, from what I can tell you’ve just been tasked with saving a world,” the Security Chief said in her most empathetic tone. “You’re overwhelmed.”
“It is not merely that,” T’Lara continued. “I feel … not myself. Ever since yesterday when the Hatter touched my mind. I feel … I fear I cannot put it into words you would understand.”
“You feel out of control,” Tasha guessed.
“Yes,” T’Lara answered. “I believe that is one way of putting it.”
Tasha smiled, leaning back against the balcony railing. “I used to be obsessed with control. With never letting anyone see my weaknesses, never letting anyone in to see who I really was.”
T’Lara was intrigued. “And what changed?”
“Time. Work. Working on a starship and relying on hundreds of people to do their jobs correctly tends to teach you how very little you can actually control,” She said wryly. “And relationships taught me that sometimes I have to give up some control to really experience life, and that sometimes you need to rely on someone else to fill the spaces where you're lacking.” The security chief glanced back toward the dining hall.
“The Lieutenant Commander.” T’Lara stated.
Tasha smiled wryly. “Now if you said that a year or so ago I would have gotten all red-faced and defensive."
T'Lara blushed slightly green herself. She statement had been inappropriately personal. She opened her mouth to apologize.
Yar waved her off with an amused expression. "I know the ship's rumor mill. Wouldn't be much of a security chief if I didn't. The point is that if the me from years ago could see the me of today, she'd probably have a coronary.” Her face turned serious. “What I mean to say is that you don’t know what you’re capable of doing until you step up and try. And if it gets to be too much, ask for help. Data and I will back you to the hilt, make no mistake about that.”
T’Lara couldn’t help but think that the Lieutenant Commander’s subordinates were lucky to have such a person serving over them. “Thank you,” the Vulcan replied with a very small, but grateful smile.
The security chief grinned. “Tasha," she corrected, much to the younger officer's surprise. "I refuse to discuss my lovelife with someone who refers to me by rank."
T'Lara did indeed blush green this time.
Tasha faught back a chuckle. "We should probably get back before Data starts scouring the castle looking for us.”
A clearing of the throat came from the doorway to the balcony, startling both women.
Tarrant Hightopp, a.k.a. the Mad Hatter, stood in the archway. “I would like to speak privately to Miss ... T’Lara.”
Tasha went from kindly to prickly in 0.5 seconds. “That’s Lieutenant T’Lara, and you’ll forgive me if I say no. Last time you spoke to her she ended up unconscious.”
“I wish to make my apologies,” he explained.
“It is fine, Comman- ... Tasha,” T’Lara assured her. For some reason she didn’t find the man iminently threatening. She should probably be more wary of him given the instability she had seen in his mind.
“You sure?” Tasha asked warily.
T’Lara nodded. “I will be in soon.”
So Tasha walked past Tarrant, giving him a look that implied violence were anything untoward to occur. The security chief headed back to the dining hall.
Tarrant kept a respectful distance from T’Lara. He took off his hat and held it in his bandaged hands. “I wish to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I had mistaken you for someone else.”
“For Alice,” T’Lara stated.
Tarrant winced at the name, and T’Lara instantly regretted saying it. She had seen inside this poor, damaged soul; had seen his great gaping emptiness. She held nothing but sympathy for him.
“You look so much like her. For a moment I thought … but no. Are you perhaps related to her?” he asked.
“It is doubtful,” T’Lara said. “What was her full name?”
“Alice Kingsley.”
T’Lara’s eyes widened. “My father’s surname name was Kingsley. My full name is T'Lara Kingsley.”
The Hatter smiled weakly. “I see. So you are related to her. No wonder she never came back. She probably married and bore children. Perhaps you are one of her descendents.” His expression drew painfully tight.
“I … I do not know what to say,” T’Lara said honestly.
Tarrant shook his head. “You needn’t say anything.” He paused for a moment, looking uneasy. “I don’t wish to be rude, but your ears, your skin color …”
T’Lara found nothing rude in the innocent query. “I am only half human. My mother is Vulcan. All Vulcans have these. We are also touch-telepaths. That is why when you touched me … well, the sensations were overwhelming.”
“Touch-telepaths?”
“When we touch a person, especially at certain points on the body, we can read their thoughts,” she explained.
“Oh! No wonder you fainted.” Tarrant tapped his head with his finger. “It’s no fun in here. I’m ‘round the bend, you see.”
“You are full of pain, guilt, anger, loss … loneliness,” T’Lara remembered how each of those feelings had felt as they coursed from his body into hers.
“Well,” Tarrant said awkwardly. “Like I said, my head is not a pretty place. Again, I apologize for my intrusiveness yesterday. You weren’t meant to experience that.”
“Apology accepted,” T’Lara replied.
“Thank you.” He put his hat back on. “Well, goodbye, T’Lara Kingsley.”
“Goodbye, Tarrant Hightopp.” T’Lara watched him disappear through the balcony archway.
She stood on the balcony a few moments more, staring at the place where Tarrant had stood. She was forced to wonder how it was that a single creature could carry such pain and grief inside him. Something about him wrapped itself around her heart, and refused to let go.
