Return of a Champion (Chapter 5)
Jun. 13th, 2010 10:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
akainagiReturn of a Champion (Chapter 5)
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.
T’Lara was not so lucky that her scream had gone unnoticed by Lieutenant Commander Data. The android, merely one room over, was roused half-Vulcan's cry of alarm. He quickly made his way to the hallway.
“T’Lara?” he called through the door.
“I am fine. There is no need for alarm, sir.”
The voice sounded strangled and breathless to his sensitive android ears. “Lieutenant. Please open the door,” he ordered.
A moment passed and the door cracked open. T’Lara’s face appeared into view. “Lieutenant Commander. I apologize for having disturbed you. I had a dream that was most … unpleasant. That was the cause of my distress. Nothing more.”
Data performed a cursory scan. T’Lara’s body temperature, pulse and respirations were all elevated well above the norm. Not incongruous with an adrenaline response caused by a nightmare. For now, he would shelve his suspicions and respect the Lieutenant’s privacy. “If you are sure you are well.”
“Please Lieutenant Commander. Do not trouble yourself further. Now if you will excuse me, I must engage in meditation,” T’Lara said.
“Very well,” the android acquiesced. “Good night, Lieutenant.”
Data returned to his own room, filing away the disturbing incident for further examination in the morning.
~*~*~*~*~
Data was greeted first thing in the morning by a knock on his door. Tasha appeared, dressed in a pale blue tunic that complimented her eyes, and a pair of leggings. Her appearance was quite aesthetically pleasing.
He was about to tell her as much when he found himself being thoroughly kissed. Recovering from his surprise, he returned the kiss, cataloguing each pleasant sensation it created.
“'Morning,” she said smoothly. She smoothed out the front of his shirt where she had just wrinkled it. "Sorry I was such a bitch last night."
Apologies had never come easy to Tasha Yar. “The situation is difficult,” he acknowledged before returning to the infinitely safer waters of generic pleasantries. “Did you sleep well?” Data inquired.
“Interesting dreams,” she replied, seemingly fascinated by the buttons on his shirt.
“Intriguing. Lieutenant T’Lara also reported having nightmares last night.”
Tasha smiled mischievously. “Oh, they weren’t nightmares. Quite the opposite. In fact they’re probably the reason I feel like having you for breakfast this morning.”
“Ah, dreams of a sexual nature, you mean,” he said bluntly. “You will remember that we agreed that sexual congress on away missions-“
“I know, I know,” Tasha interrupted. She grinned. “Didn’t say anything about a good snog, though.”
“… Snog?...” Data accessed his vast store of human colloquial expressions. “Ah! Kissing, smooching, tonsil-hockey –“
Tasha laughed. “How about all of the above?” She leaned in to kiss him again when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.
T’Lara showed no signs of the previous night’s turmoil. She entered the room dressed appropriately for a day of sword practice; plain slacks and a short-sleeved blouse that would not cause her undue stress in the summer heat. Calm and collected, she greeted her superiors by rank. If she had any idea that anything untoward had been going on before her arrival, she was far too polite to mention it. Data studied her carefully for any signs of last night’s symptoms, and found none. The meditation, a powerful tool in the hands of a Vulcan, had apparently been effective.
After breakfast, the training reconvened in earnest. After a few words of encouragement from Yar, T’Lara again squared off with the young captain of the guards. The more advanced the swordplay became, the more aware T’Lara became that the captain was holding back for her benefit. Were he to go all-out, she would be defeated in short order.
Three days. They had three days before she had to fight the beast called Time and win. It seemed an impossible thing; a task now made even more impossible by the fact that her mind was no longer focused. The adrenaline of fighting, the heat and smell of the male sweat coming from her opponent. All were powerful triggers that taunted to her. She was fighting a battle on two fronts. One with the Captain of the Guards, and one inside her own mind. Her Vulcan training strained to keep the urges of the mating drive in check.
Just when she was about to request a reprive, the Captain announced they would break for the midday meal. It was none too soon. T’Lara’s blood was fairly singing with the call of her ancestors. It was a powerful call to mate, to meld, to find a male and bind herself to him.
Flushing green and breathing heavy, T’Lara announced to Data and Tasha that she was going to walk about the gardens briefly, and then she would get something to eat. She needed to cool down, she explained, which was not a total lie. She promised to meet the two officers in the dining hall shortly. She fairly ran for the solitude of the gardens.
But fate, if she believed in such a thing, had far too much of a sense of humor to allow her to unwind in peace.
Tarrant Hightopp stood in the middle of the garden, staring at the roses with a melancholy look on his face. T’Lara quickly turned to flee before she was seen, but she was too late.
“Lady T’Lara?” the Hatter inquired of her retreating back.
She froze. Just the sound of his voice triggered in her unwelcome longings. “Mister Hatter,” she choked out without turning around.
“Lady T’Lara, are you entirely well?” Tarrant asked with concern.
I’ll be fine if you just stay away, T’Lara thought desperately.
The hand on her shoulder was such an innocent touch, a gesture of concern. But her blood, already superheated, became inflamed at the raw, male, emotional presence.
She whirled around and grabbed the Hatter roughly by the collar. With superhuman strength she hauled him in, his face scant inches from her own. What she wouldn’t give to throw him down and claim his body and mind for her own. To mate with him, bindwith him. It would be so easy to claim him. He was no match for her in strength. His pheromones were like a drug. He was attracted to her, she could tell. They would both get what they want.
Her conscious mind screamed in protest. He wants the one named Alice, not you. He sees her in you.
Stopping herself took more strength than she knew she possessed. Their lips were so close she could feel their breath intermingling. With the last of her reserves she pushed him away so roughly his hat fell off. “Stay away from me!” she hissed. And she fled to the palace, leaving a shell-shocked Tarrant behind her.
By the time she reached the dining hall, she had gotten herself relatively under control. Data and Tasha had already finished their modest repast. T’Lara poured herself a cup of tea, finding the aroma and flavor soothing to the nerves. The bowl of soup that had been set out for her was now far from hot, but she attempted to eat it anyway. She forced down as much as she could tolerate, even though she hadn't the stomach for it. She would need strength of mind and body to make it through the next few days without succumbing to the blood fever. She was infinitely thankful that Data was an android and therefore exerted no pull on her sexually. Were that not the case she would have another set of problems on her already full hands.
She ate slowly, using the delay to practice her mind control techniques. But even as she ate she could feel Lieutenant Commander Data’s regard. He knew something was amiss. He could no doubt read the changes in vital signs that went with the onset of Pon Farr. T’Lara feared it was only a matter of time before she was found out.
When the three returned to the courtyard they found the Captain already waiting and looking more than a little peeved at their tardiness. T’Lara apologized and assumed a fighting stance, her sword at the ready.
The Captain made the first move, which she countered easily, parrying and stepping away to the side. She was trying to keep as much distance between them as possible; trying to keep his male presence at arm’s length. The captain criticized her harshly, telling her to attack.
“It is not enough to defend. Your goal is to defeat your enemy! Now have at me!” he barked.
T’Lara complied, swinging her sword in a wide arc which was easily parried.
“Again!” the Captain ordered.
So she came at him again. And then again. Each time growing bolder in her attacks. Each attack bringing her closer to her opponent.
She could feel it building inside her. The sweat and exertion, the smell of pheromones and adrenaline filled her sensitive nostrils. Her blood was up; ordering her to subdue and to be subdued. To defeat and be deafeated. To subjugate and be conqueredy a worthy body and mind. Their swords locked together, pressed between them. In this moment, they were equally matched. T’Lara’s eyes blazed with the thrill of combat and the raging need that coursed through her veins. Taking a leg and hooking it around the Captain’s, she unbalanced him, sending him toppling backwards. Caught off guard, he was easily divested of his weapon. Both swords came clattering to the ground, forgotten by T’Lara, who had finally lost her long internal battle. As the Captain landed on his back, she allowed herself to fall with him.
There, on the stone of the courtyard, she straddled the terrified young man. The smell of his fear was like an aphrodisiac to T’Lara. Her lips fell on his in a bruising kiss, her hands grappled with his clothing, ripping his shirt away. Dimly, from far away, she could hear her name being called. Only a fool dared to interrupt her mating, she thought as she struggled with the Captain’s remaining clothing.
Suddenly she was being lifted by strong arms, tearing her away from her intended mate. She screamed and thrashed like an untamed beast. Her blood was boiling. She felt filled with liquid fire. She struggled in the strong grasp.
“Lieutenant!” Data barked as he tried to contain the violent female. “Lieutenant!” Data turned her around, and with superhuman speed, and with a carefully calculated amount of force, he slapped his subordinate hard across the face.
T’Lara stopped her thrashing abruptly. Staring at Data in horror, in full awareness of what she had done and what she had almost done, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came.
Filled to the brim, nay, overflowing with mortification, T’Lara fled the courtyard, seeking out the solitude of her room. She ran as fast as she could. All of her controls had fled. Tears of shame flowed down her face. She could hear Data and Tasha hot on her heels, calling to her, but still she ran from the scene of her disgrace.
None of them noted the lone figure on the balcony above the courtyard, whose watchful green eyes had seen everything.
~*~*~*~*~
“Why did you not tell me this last night?” Data asked. To someone other than Tasha his voice sounded calm and controlled. Tasha, however, who knew him better than anyone, could detect the undercurrent of frustration.
T’Lara, who struggled to get the trembling of her hands under control, was brutally honest. “Shame," she replied. "Vulcans have been trained from birth that one does not speak of such things. It is seldom spoken of among our people, and never to alien races." She stared down at her clenched fists, her humiliation too great to look the second officer in the eyes. "I had hoped to control it with meditation, but I fear that is no longer an option.”
“As your commanding officer, it is vital that I know if one of my team members is compromised in any way. You are faced with a potentially fatal condition, Lieutenant.”
Steeling herself, T’Lara looked him square in the face. “I apologize, Sir. It was not my intent to deceive, or to jeopardize the mission.” She shook her head. “This should not be happening now. I must conclude that the early onset of Pon Farr is a result of my own hybrid physiology, and of Underland's temporal disturbances.”
“However it has come about,” the android explained, “It is clear you are in no condition to do battle. Either the Lieutenant Commander or myself must take your place.”
“That is not an option, sir, as you well know,” T’Lara replied coldly. “According to Q, the Queen, and thousand-year-old-prophecies, I must battle Time in order for us to complete our mission and be returned to the Enterprise.”
Tasha could hold her tongue no longer. “T’Lara, no offense intended, but you can’t even train without losing control.” The security chief's voice lowered slightly. "There's no shame in surrender when there's no hope of winning. You've done your best."
“The solution to the training problem is a simple one,” T’Lara answered. “I will train with a female guard. According to the Captain of the Guards, there are female soldiers among their ranks.”
Data still refused to be convinced. “That still does not change the fact that you are suffering from a progressively degenerative condition. Without mating or purging yourself of the need to mate, you will die.”
The words were all the more difficult to swallow for their truthfulness. “The blood fever has only just come upon me," T'Lara explained. "I will survive the three days necessary to complete the mission. Once we return to the Enterprise, with Dr. Crusher’s intervention, I will survive.”
“But will you be in good enough shape to fight Time and win?” Tasha questioned.
“I must,” T’Lara answered matter-of-factly. One another person it might have come across as bravado, but from T'Lara it was merely a quiet resignation. The half-vulcan looked to her two superior officers. “To fail is not an option,” she stated.
Neither Data nor Tasha had a counter for that one. For it was the truth.
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.
T’Lara was not so lucky that her scream had gone unnoticed by Lieutenant Commander Data. The android, merely one room over, was roused half-Vulcan's cry of alarm. He quickly made his way to the hallway.
“T’Lara?” he called through the door.
“I am fine. There is no need for alarm, sir.”
The voice sounded strangled and breathless to his sensitive android ears. “Lieutenant. Please open the door,” he ordered.
A moment passed and the door cracked open. T’Lara’s face appeared into view. “Lieutenant Commander. I apologize for having disturbed you. I had a dream that was most … unpleasant. That was the cause of my distress. Nothing more.”
Data performed a cursory scan. T’Lara’s body temperature, pulse and respirations were all elevated well above the norm. Not incongruous with an adrenaline response caused by a nightmare. For now, he would shelve his suspicions and respect the Lieutenant’s privacy. “If you are sure you are well.”
“Please Lieutenant Commander. Do not trouble yourself further. Now if you will excuse me, I must engage in meditation,” T’Lara said.
“Very well,” the android acquiesced. “Good night, Lieutenant.”
Data returned to his own room, filing away the disturbing incident for further examination in the morning.
~*~*~*~*~
Data was greeted first thing in the morning by a knock on his door. Tasha appeared, dressed in a pale blue tunic that complimented her eyes, and a pair of leggings. Her appearance was quite aesthetically pleasing.
He was about to tell her as much when he found himself being thoroughly kissed. Recovering from his surprise, he returned the kiss, cataloguing each pleasant sensation it created.
“'Morning,” she said smoothly. She smoothed out the front of his shirt where she had just wrinkled it. "Sorry I was such a bitch last night."
Apologies had never come easy to Tasha Yar. “The situation is difficult,” he acknowledged before returning to the infinitely safer waters of generic pleasantries. “Did you sleep well?” Data inquired.
“Interesting dreams,” she replied, seemingly fascinated by the buttons on his shirt.
“Intriguing. Lieutenant T’Lara also reported having nightmares last night.”
Tasha smiled mischievously. “Oh, they weren’t nightmares. Quite the opposite. In fact they’re probably the reason I feel like having you for breakfast this morning.”
“Ah, dreams of a sexual nature, you mean,” he said bluntly. “You will remember that we agreed that sexual congress on away missions-“
“I know, I know,” Tasha interrupted. She grinned. “Didn’t say anything about a good snog, though.”
“… Snog?...” Data accessed his vast store of human colloquial expressions. “Ah! Kissing, smooching, tonsil-hockey –“
Tasha laughed. “How about all of the above?” She leaned in to kiss him again when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.
T’Lara showed no signs of the previous night’s turmoil. She entered the room dressed appropriately for a day of sword practice; plain slacks and a short-sleeved blouse that would not cause her undue stress in the summer heat. Calm and collected, she greeted her superiors by rank. If she had any idea that anything untoward had been going on before her arrival, she was far too polite to mention it. Data studied her carefully for any signs of last night’s symptoms, and found none. The meditation, a powerful tool in the hands of a Vulcan, had apparently been effective.
After breakfast, the training reconvened in earnest. After a few words of encouragement from Yar, T’Lara again squared off with the young captain of the guards. The more advanced the swordplay became, the more aware T’Lara became that the captain was holding back for her benefit. Were he to go all-out, she would be defeated in short order.
Three days. They had three days before she had to fight the beast called Time and win. It seemed an impossible thing; a task now made even more impossible by the fact that her mind was no longer focused. The adrenaline of fighting, the heat and smell of the male sweat coming from her opponent. All were powerful triggers that taunted to her. She was fighting a battle on two fronts. One with the Captain of the Guards, and one inside her own mind. Her Vulcan training strained to keep the urges of the mating drive in check.
Just when she was about to request a reprive, the Captain announced they would break for the midday meal. It was none too soon. T’Lara’s blood was fairly singing with the call of her ancestors. It was a powerful call to mate, to meld, to find a male and bind herself to him.
Flushing green and breathing heavy, T’Lara announced to Data and Tasha that she was going to walk about the gardens briefly, and then she would get something to eat. She needed to cool down, she explained, which was not a total lie. She promised to meet the two officers in the dining hall shortly. She fairly ran for the solitude of the gardens.
But fate, if she believed in such a thing, had far too much of a sense of humor to allow her to unwind in peace.
Tarrant Hightopp stood in the middle of the garden, staring at the roses with a melancholy look on his face. T’Lara quickly turned to flee before she was seen, but she was too late.
“Lady T’Lara?” the Hatter inquired of her retreating back.
She froze. Just the sound of his voice triggered in her unwelcome longings. “Mister Hatter,” she choked out without turning around.
“Lady T’Lara, are you entirely well?” Tarrant asked with concern.
I’ll be fine if you just stay away, T’Lara thought desperately.
The hand on her shoulder was such an innocent touch, a gesture of concern. But her blood, already superheated, became inflamed at the raw, male, emotional presence.
She whirled around and grabbed the Hatter roughly by the collar. With superhuman strength she hauled him in, his face scant inches from her own. What she wouldn’t give to throw him down and claim his body and mind for her own. To mate with him, bindwith him. It would be so easy to claim him. He was no match for her in strength. His pheromones were like a drug. He was attracted to her, she could tell. They would both get what they want.
Her conscious mind screamed in protest. He wants the one named Alice, not you. He sees her in you.
Stopping herself took more strength than she knew she possessed. Their lips were so close she could feel their breath intermingling. With the last of her reserves she pushed him away so roughly his hat fell off. “Stay away from me!” she hissed. And she fled to the palace, leaving a shell-shocked Tarrant behind her.
By the time she reached the dining hall, she had gotten herself relatively under control. Data and Tasha had already finished their modest repast. T’Lara poured herself a cup of tea, finding the aroma and flavor soothing to the nerves. The bowl of soup that had been set out for her was now far from hot, but she attempted to eat it anyway. She forced down as much as she could tolerate, even though she hadn't the stomach for it. She would need strength of mind and body to make it through the next few days without succumbing to the blood fever. She was infinitely thankful that Data was an android and therefore exerted no pull on her sexually. Were that not the case she would have another set of problems on her already full hands.
She ate slowly, using the delay to practice her mind control techniques. But even as she ate she could feel Lieutenant Commander Data’s regard. He knew something was amiss. He could no doubt read the changes in vital signs that went with the onset of Pon Farr. T’Lara feared it was only a matter of time before she was found out.
When the three returned to the courtyard they found the Captain already waiting and looking more than a little peeved at their tardiness. T’Lara apologized and assumed a fighting stance, her sword at the ready.
The Captain made the first move, which she countered easily, parrying and stepping away to the side. She was trying to keep as much distance between them as possible; trying to keep his male presence at arm’s length. The captain criticized her harshly, telling her to attack.
“It is not enough to defend. Your goal is to defeat your enemy! Now have at me!” he barked.
T’Lara complied, swinging her sword in a wide arc which was easily parried.
“Again!” the Captain ordered.
So she came at him again. And then again. Each time growing bolder in her attacks. Each attack bringing her closer to her opponent.
She could feel it building inside her. The sweat and exertion, the smell of pheromones and adrenaline filled her sensitive nostrils. Her blood was up; ordering her to subdue and to be subdued. To defeat and be deafeated. To subjugate and be conqueredy a worthy body and mind. Their swords locked together, pressed between them. In this moment, they were equally matched. T’Lara’s eyes blazed with the thrill of combat and the raging need that coursed through her veins. Taking a leg and hooking it around the Captain’s, she unbalanced him, sending him toppling backwards. Caught off guard, he was easily divested of his weapon. Both swords came clattering to the ground, forgotten by T’Lara, who had finally lost her long internal battle. As the Captain landed on his back, she allowed herself to fall with him.
There, on the stone of the courtyard, she straddled the terrified young man. The smell of his fear was like an aphrodisiac to T’Lara. Her lips fell on his in a bruising kiss, her hands grappled with his clothing, ripping his shirt away. Dimly, from far away, she could hear her name being called. Only a fool dared to interrupt her mating, she thought as she struggled with the Captain’s remaining clothing.
Suddenly she was being lifted by strong arms, tearing her away from her intended mate. She screamed and thrashed like an untamed beast. Her blood was boiling. She felt filled with liquid fire. She struggled in the strong grasp.
“Lieutenant!” Data barked as he tried to contain the violent female. “Lieutenant!” Data turned her around, and with superhuman speed, and with a carefully calculated amount of force, he slapped his subordinate hard across the face.
T’Lara stopped her thrashing abruptly. Staring at Data in horror, in full awareness of what she had done and what she had almost done, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came.
Filled to the brim, nay, overflowing with mortification, T’Lara fled the courtyard, seeking out the solitude of her room. She ran as fast as she could. All of her controls had fled. Tears of shame flowed down her face. She could hear Data and Tasha hot on her heels, calling to her, but still she ran from the scene of her disgrace.
None of them noted the lone figure on the balcony above the courtyard, whose watchful green eyes had seen everything.
~*~*~*~*~
“Why did you not tell me this last night?” Data asked. To someone other than Tasha his voice sounded calm and controlled. Tasha, however, who knew him better than anyone, could detect the undercurrent of frustration.
T’Lara, who struggled to get the trembling of her hands under control, was brutally honest. “Shame," she replied. "Vulcans have been trained from birth that one does not speak of such things. It is seldom spoken of among our people, and never to alien races." She stared down at her clenched fists, her humiliation too great to look the second officer in the eyes. "I had hoped to control it with meditation, but I fear that is no longer an option.”
“As your commanding officer, it is vital that I know if one of my team members is compromised in any way. You are faced with a potentially fatal condition, Lieutenant.”
Steeling herself, T’Lara looked him square in the face. “I apologize, Sir. It was not my intent to deceive, or to jeopardize the mission.” She shook her head. “This should not be happening now. I must conclude that the early onset of Pon Farr is a result of my own hybrid physiology, and of Underland's temporal disturbances.”
“However it has come about,” the android explained, “It is clear you are in no condition to do battle. Either the Lieutenant Commander or myself must take your place.”
“That is not an option, sir, as you well know,” T’Lara replied coldly. “According to Q, the Queen, and thousand-year-old-prophecies, I must battle Time in order for us to complete our mission and be returned to the Enterprise.”
Tasha could hold her tongue no longer. “T’Lara, no offense intended, but you can’t even train without losing control.” The security chief's voice lowered slightly. "There's no shame in surrender when there's no hope of winning. You've done your best."
“The solution to the training problem is a simple one,” T’Lara answered. “I will train with a female guard. According to the Captain of the Guards, there are female soldiers among their ranks.”
Data still refused to be convinced. “That still does not change the fact that you are suffering from a progressively degenerative condition. Without mating or purging yourself of the need to mate, you will die.”
The words were all the more difficult to swallow for their truthfulness. “The blood fever has only just come upon me," T'Lara explained. "I will survive the three days necessary to complete the mission. Once we return to the Enterprise, with Dr. Crusher’s intervention, I will survive.”
“But will you be in good enough shape to fight Time and win?” Tasha questioned.
“I must,” T’Lara answered matter-of-factly. One another person it might have come across as bravado, but from T'Lara it was merely a quiet resignation. The half-vulcan looked to her two superior officers. “To fail is not an option,” she stated.
Neither Data nor Tasha had a counter for that one. For it was the truth.
