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Go to Deanna, some instinct said.
When she got there, Deanna hadn't been there. But she knew it was safe. She remembered hearing in some psychology class that humans needed play to develop. Maybe that's why she wasn't thinking. She hadn't been playing.
It was harder and harder to keep her thoughts together. As soon as she grabbed one, it just - popped - like a soap bubble.
A flash memory...The colony...someone had traded her soap for an errand. At first, she didn't know what to do with it outside of some vague memory it went with water. Ishara tried eating it. Tasha snatched it back and Ishara started crying. They fought and the soap dropped in some water. Colors floated to the surface. All the colors. Purple swirled with blues and greens and when she fished the soap out of the water, it was so slick and warm. Rubbing it against her skin made more colors and took the dirt away.
A flash of yellow catches her eye, snapping her back to the present.
That's what she needs! Colors! All the blues and purples and golds...Deanna has so many pretty things. She'll put them on, move them across her skin and this bad, out-of-control feeling will be washed away.
Tasha dives for the closet, opening it with a giggle and buries herself in a heaps of pliable, billowing cloth.
------------------------
That hadn't worked. She had been smiling, but Troi had felt it. The panic. The thing screaming in her to find control, to run, to hide, to wait until this feeling passes because it exposed her.
The clothing was pretty, but she couldn't make herself wear it. Some apprehension stopped her. It demand that she find her control.
But wasn't this control? Right now, she could shove doubt to the side. Let the excitement of it all carry her down the corridor. She was the chief of security in this gang. She could beat up anyone here. She needed to be happy. She needed to celebrate this.
Hide. No. Celebrate. No. Hide.
And then a devil on her shoulder whispered in her ear as an attractive man passed her: She could do both. Men had traded safety to her for their pleasure. The thought made her bearing change. She could do the same. She could feel her hips swing back and forth as she walked. Her whole body swayed like a water snake, and why not? She was powerful now. She should do the same. Entitled to it now. Things were out of control here. She should find someone and take them away from this. Someone who could please her this time! Maybe this one?
Someone makes the mistake of just staring at her as she walks dumbfounded. He's a slightly diminutive man. Shorter than her. The outfit says he's in medical or sciences; not a warrior. Perfect. She slows her gait enough to take his shoulder with her left hand and turn him to look at her. He just keeps staring and staring while she - after another possessive glance grabs the back of his head in one hand and crushes his lips with hers.
Sobriety then hits and hard. Whoever this is, isn't kissing back. He's not kissing back and she's not that. She not part of the rape gangs! She's Lieutenant Yar!
"Security Chief," she mumbles, letting the man go and jumping back as if he were set on fire. She can't even look at him. "I'm sorry, I'm not -"
She looks up. The man is staring off into the distance again as if she never happened, this time at a man. This time, his features melt into relief and enjoyment when the other man comes up and moves a hand across his cheekbone with the faintest of touches. Idly, she realizes she's never been touched like that. People are too afraid of her now.
Fear is good. Fear keeps you alive. Fear is what moves her along to her quarters.
--------------------------
Her uniform is too warm and is making her feel horrible. It's removed in favor of this outfit someone packed for her as a joke. It was this indigo thing. She thinks it was supposed to be sleepware. Whatever it is, it's loose and gauzy and colorful. The color helps. Plus she could fight in this.
--------------------------
The coms are going mad. Something about engineering the first minute. Something about security the next. Oh, wait...that was her name being mentioned. By the Captain.
"Captain Picard," she replies in a lilting tone, to herself, not realizing the coms are open.
But they are on, so he replies, "Lieutenant, where are you?"
Never let them see you scared. Keep smiling. Keep charming them. Keep the fear from your voice.
"I'm in my quarters, and I'm pretty busy right at the moment," she lied and then added - just to throw him off. "Jean-Luc." My, what a pretty name the Captain had!"
"All right, Lieutenant, you just stay right there. Data, please go to Lieutenant Yar and take her down to Sickbay."
Data! Oh...She bit her lip as she glanced in the mirror. Data is on the way. No, this wasn't good. He didn't get frightened. He didn't want anything other than to just be with people. She couldn't hide from Data. She'd tried in the holodeck once and nothing fooled him! People were afraid of Data for good reasons.
But she wasn't afraid of him. If they stayed together, they could get through this. Her mind rushed, discarding idea after idea as to what to do when he got here. This was too important to screw up, damn it!
A half-formed idea...more like a daydream she dismissed weeks ago...comes to mind. It ended well. So well she starts to giggle again as she runs to her bedroom. Data needs to see her different than she's been if this is going to work.
------------------------------
When she got there, Deanna hadn't been there. But she knew it was safe. She remembered hearing in some psychology class that humans needed play to develop. Maybe that's why she wasn't thinking. She hadn't been playing.
It was harder and harder to keep her thoughts together. As soon as she grabbed one, it just - popped - like a soap bubble.
A flash memory...The colony...someone had traded her soap for an errand. At first, she didn't know what to do with it outside of some vague memory it went with water. Ishara tried eating it. Tasha snatched it back and Ishara started crying. They fought and the soap dropped in some water. Colors floated to the surface. All the colors. Purple swirled with blues and greens and when she fished the soap out of the water, it was so slick and warm. Rubbing it against her skin made more colors and took the dirt away.
A flash of yellow catches her eye, snapping her back to the present.
That's what she needs! Colors! All the blues and purples and golds...Deanna has so many pretty things. She'll put them on, move them across her skin and this bad, out-of-control feeling will be washed away.
Tasha dives for the closet, opening it with a giggle and buries herself in a heaps of pliable, billowing cloth.
------------------------
That hadn't worked. She had been smiling, but Troi had felt it. The panic. The thing screaming in her to find control, to run, to hide, to wait until this feeling passes because it exposed her.
The clothing was pretty, but she couldn't make herself wear it. Some apprehension stopped her. It demand that she find her control.
But wasn't this control? Right now, she could shove doubt to the side. Let the excitement of it all carry her down the corridor. She was the chief of security in this gang. She could beat up anyone here. She needed to be happy. She needed to celebrate this.
Hide. No. Celebrate. No. Hide.
And then a devil on her shoulder whispered in her ear as an attractive man passed her: She could do both. Men had traded safety to her for their pleasure. The thought made her bearing change. She could do the same. She could feel her hips swing back and forth as she walked. Her whole body swayed like a water snake, and why not? She was powerful now. She should do the same. Entitled to it now. Things were out of control here. She should find someone and take them away from this. Someone who could please her this time! Maybe this one?
Someone makes the mistake of just staring at her as she walks dumbfounded. He's a slightly diminutive man. Shorter than her. The outfit says he's in medical or sciences; not a warrior. Perfect. She slows her gait enough to take his shoulder with her left hand and turn him to look at her. He just keeps staring and staring while she - after another possessive glance grabs the back of his head in one hand and crushes his lips with hers.
Sobriety then hits and hard. Whoever this is, isn't kissing back. He's not kissing back and she's not that. She not part of the rape gangs! She's Lieutenant Yar!
"Security Chief," she mumbles, letting the man go and jumping back as if he were set on fire. She can't even look at him. "I'm sorry, I'm not -"
She looks up. The man is staring off into the distance again as if she never happened, this time at a man. This time, his features melt into relief and enjoyment when the other man comes up and moves a hand across his cheekbone with the faintest of touches. Idly, she realizes she's never been touched like that. People are too afraid of her now.
Fear is good. Fear keeps you alive. Fear is what moves her along to her quarters.
--------------------------
Her uniform is too warm and is making her feel horrible. It's removed in favor of this outfit someone packed for her as a joke. It was this indigo thing. She thinks it was supposed to be sleepware. Whatever it is, it's loose and gauzy and colorful. The color helps. Plus she could fight in this.
--------------------------
The coms are going mad. Something about engineering the first minute. Something about security the next. Oh, wait...that was her name being mentioned. By the Captain.
"Captain Picard," she replies in a lilting tone, to herself, not realizing the coms are open.
But they are on, so he replies, "Lieutenant, where are you?"
Never let them see you scared. Keep smiling. Keep charming them. Keep the fear from your voice.
"I'm in my quarters, and I'm pretty busy right at the moment," she lied and then added - just to throw him off. "Jean-Luc." My, what a pretty name the Captain had!"
"All right, Lieutenant, you just stay right there. Data, please go to Lieutenant Yar and take her down to Sickbay."
Data! Oh...She bit her lip as she glanced in the mirror. Data is on the way. No, this wasn't good. He didn't get frightened. He didn't want anything other than to just be with people. She couldn't hide from Data. She'd tried in the holodeck once and nothing fooled him! People were afraid of Data for good reasons.
But she wasn't afraid of him. If they stayed together, they could get through this. Her mind rushed, discarding idea after idea as to what to do when he got here. This was too important to screw up, damn it!
A half-formed idea...more like a daydream she dismissed weeks ago...comes to mind. It ended well. So well she starts to giggle again as she runs to her bedroom. Data needs to see her different than she's been if this is going to work.
------------------------------