For the next two hours, I sat there in a slight stupor. I was used to sitting alone for long periods of time, that's what stowaways do, but that didn't make it any less boring. Plus, I wasn't alone. I was with Commander William T. Riker, the famed first officer of the Enterprise. I had heard about him many times, but I had never thought that I would meet him. Much less be sitting face to face with him in his quarters with him thinking I was a rather frightened and hostile cat.
The Commander's com badge buzzed again and I started. It was Geordi LaForge, the same man who had called earlier. The repairs had apparently gone faster than planned, and the ship was ready to depart.
The Commander was obviously glad to hear the news. I wasn't too sure how I felt. I was glad that we would be leaving soon because that meant that I could get off this ship all the sooner. But I had also somewhat hoped that I could return to the station. Someone on board knowing I was there was not something that I had planned on, and it would have been much easier to find another ship to get on.
Too late now.
I might as well make myself comfortable, I thought. I hadn't eaten the food yet, mainly because I hadn't wanted to move. I didn't want to take my eyes off Riker.
At this point I was starving, though, and I doubted that Riker would suddenly go off his head and attack me. Klingon, maybe. Starfleet, no.
I jumped off the couch and headed over to the replicator. Carefully, I sniffed the food. True, it was only a bowl of brown slop, but it smelled like beef. And I was starving. I'd eaten worse.
I carefully licked it. Then, I began to eat it, painfully aware of how disgusting I probably looked. That was the one good thing about being a Sandorian, or any other humanoid species: we had hands. Cats just had to make do.
Once I had eaten most of the slop and drunk some water, I settled into the cat bed. It was actually very comfortable. Looking up, I saw Riker watching me.
He no longer looked, or smelled, as uncomfortable as he had before. Maybe he was starting to get used to me, or maybe the fact that I was now acting more catlike comforted him. Whichever, he was definitely more at ease.
This made me feel better. The less suspicious he was, the easier it would be for me to sneak out. It was around 2100 now, which meant that Riker should be going to bed within one or two hours. Then I could leave.
Another hour later, Riker rose and disappeared into another room, which I was assumed was the bathroom. When he returned, he went into the bedroom and began to get undressed. I quickly closed my eyes as I had no desire whatsoever to see Riker in any state of undress. I opened my eyes around five minutes later. Riker was now wearing blue pajamas, and was climbing into bed.
"Computer, turn off the lights," he said. The lights immediately went off. It took my eyes several minutes to try to adjust. There was a little light coming out of the replicator, and with my cat eyes I was able to see again.
"Goodnight, Tasha," Riker murmured. I paused, a funny feeling filling me. It had been a long, long time since anyone had ever told me goodnight, and even longer since they had used my real name. Riker had somehow known my name. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feeling. I actually felt like I kind of belonged.
I allowed myself a minute or so, and then I opened my eyes again. I needed to focus. In order to open the door I needed to go back to my normal form, which meant that Riker had to be in a deep sleep. I didn't know how long it would take him to fall asleep, but I had to wait at least forty-five minutes to be on the safe side. Maybe longer.
I allowed myself to slip into a slight doze. I was tired, and it wouldn't be good if I were tired as I made my escape. I knew that I wouldn't sleep more than an hour, and my cat ears would alert me if anyone, or anything, moved inside the room.
An hour later, I awoke from my nap. Blinking my eyes, I quickly cleared my head and forgot my dreams.
Awaking completely, I listened for Riker. In the silence of the room, I could hear his easy breathing. It was deep and steady, and he was obviously asleep. Rising from my cat bed, I stepped out of it and made my way toward the door. Once there, and out of sight of Riker's bed, I quickly transformed back into my regular body. It felt good.
My Sandorian shape is one of a young twenty-six year old with wavy, golden blond hair that reaches past my shoulders. I am around 5" 6' tall, and have a slight build. At the moment, I was wearing long black pants and a black shirt. There wasn't any reason to take an extra risk of being seen. My feet were bare, as I would make less noise that way.
Carefully approaching the door, I listened again for Riker. He was still asleep. I stepped toward the door, and it sprung open with a whooshing sound. Light from the corridor immediately filled the room. I was sure that Riker would awake any minute, so I quickly looked up and down the corridor. It was empty. I stepped forward one step.
Suddenly, a crewman rounded the corridor. I jerked back inside, and flattened myself against the wall as the door shut again.
Steadying my breathing, I readied myself to try again. It was late at night, and the odds that someone else would be passing by were slight. At least, I hoped they were.
"Who's there?" a voice said. I froze, and quieted my breathing. Riker was awake. "Computer, lights," he said. As the lights came on, I immediately returned to my cat shape. I was grateful that the door was out of sight of the bed; it gave me a few extra seconds.
A very tired and aggravated looking Riker came walking around the corner. He was blinking heavily, and was obviously having a hard time seeing. He looked at the door, and then lowered his gaze to me. Confusion flitted across his face; apparently he had forgotten I was there.
I stared back at him.
He sighed, obviously annoyed at having had to get up because of a cat. "What are you doing up?" he asked. "Computer, program the door so cats can't open it."
I frowned (as much as a cat can). So I could have opened the door while in my cat form? It would have been nice to know that earlier.
"Computer, turn off the lights."
The lights immediately went off, and I heard Riker returning to bed.
"Go back to bed, cat," he said as he climbed back in.
Only then did my breathing and heart rate return to near normal. That had been close, too close. The crewman could have easily seen me, and Riker could have woken a few seconds earlier and seen me in my Sandorian form.
I realized that I couldn't try to get out again, for that night, at least. I would have to get out the next day. No, that wouldn't work either. I couldn't just stroll out of Riker's quarters, not in the middle of the day when people were sure to be around. I may be paranoid, but it was what had kept me alive for the past nine years. The next night was the soonest that I could hope to get out.
I paused, considering this new dangerous turn of events. I had been willing to risk being Riker's cat for half a day, but I didn't know if I could do it for all of the next day. It was dangerous.
I couldn't get out during the day as someone would probably catch me. If I got out during the night, Riker would probably hear me and would later think that I had just somehow gotten around the lock. He would think it was odd, but I doubted that he would worry too much about it. It wasn't like he cared for cats.
The only option was to stay in Riker's quarters all day and pretend to be a cat. It would be hard as I didn't normally allow anyone to see me when I wasn't in my Sandorian form. Also, there was a danger that Riker would begin to research where I came from.
It would be safer to just disappear.
But there was another part of me that had an opinion, a part other than my brain and my instincts. It had been a long time since anyone had accepted me and, even though Riker thought that I was a cat, he had been willing to let me stay. It might sound rather pitiful, but this was the closest thing that I had had to a home in a long, long time.
Slowly, I walked over to the couch and climbed onto the back of it. From there, I stared out of the stars.
No matter how many times I rode on a ship, I could never get over the beauty of stars streaking past while the ship was in warp. It was mesmerizing, and calming. Perhaps it was the fact that I had spent so much staring up at the stars while I was young, and dreaming that I was up there instead of on Sandor.
I jumped down from the couch and went to the bed. I didn't want to think about my past. I had spent my life stowing away on ships to distant destinations just to get away from it. I quickly closed my eyes and focused on falling into a light sleep.
I did sleep, eventually, but it didn't take me away from memories.
I was five and had just found my first friend. He was seven, and had the blackest hair that I had ever seen. His eyes were a bright green, and seemed to shine even when it was dark. I had met him in the park, in my secret spot. At least, I thought that it was secret until I had gone there and found this boy serenely sitting in my tree with his feet hanging in my stream.
"That's my seat," I told him after I had recovered from my childlike sense of shock and anger, as if someone had just stolen my favorite toy.
The boy turned.
"No it's not, it's mine," he said.
"I discovered it," I said, as if this settled everything.
He shook his head, while I put my hands on my hips. My fighting pose.
"Well, we could share it," he suggested carefully. I paused, considering this new development. Share it? Was that possible?
"Well...maybe," I said. "But you have to promise not to tell anyone about it!"
"Promise," the boy said solemnly.
"Cross you heart?" I asked. No one would dare to break such a promise.
"Cross my heart."
"Good," I grinned. "I'm Tasha."
"I'm Brandon," the boy said, hopping down.
"I like you hair," I said. I'd always been kind of socially inept.
From then on we were friends.
Jerking awake, I jumped to my feet and wildly looked around the room, trying to find the source of the noise that had awoken me. I was in quarters of some sort, and I didn't recognize them. I was also out in the open, which was something that I normally never let happen. After scanning for a few seconds, I saw Riker standing on the other side of the room playing a musical contraption. I remembered where I was. Everything was alright.
Relaxing, and mentally berating myself for panicking, I sat back down. There was no need to panic. I wasn't in any immediate danger.
Riker looked over at me, and let out a small laugh as he lowered the instrument from his mouth.
"Sorry, cat, I didn't think about the trombone bothering you," he said. "I'm used to living alone."
I carefully surveyed him and the room. There were dirty plates on the table, and Riker was already dressed. It was obvious that he had been awake and moving around for some time. I had no idea how I hadn't woken when he had gotten up. I had survived thus far by always keeping my guard up, never being caught by surprise, and always, always knowing what was going on around me.
And yet here I was, being awoken out of a serene, deep sleep by a man playing his musical instrument. I hadn't even planned on sleeping this long.
What was wrong with me?
Focusing on Riker again, I saw him returning his trombone to its stand. Then, he turned toward me. As I warily watched him, he stopped in front of the replicator.
"Cat food."
"Specify."
Riker sighed. "Supplement 8."
Another bowl of brown "food" appeared in the replicator, and Riker picked it up. Then he leaned down toward me.
I didn't move. I refused to allow myself to run as he set the food down a few centimeters from my bed. I had made the decision to stay for the day, and if I was going to stay then I couldn't run away every time this man got close to me. Not only would it be tiring and a waste of time, but Riker would also probably think that it was odd. And he might decide that I wasn't worth putting up with.
Riker moved away, and went into the bathroom. I paused, steadying my breathing. I was over-thinking everything I did. I was analyzing every single thing that happened, and trying to determine the best course of action. And it just wouldn't work. I knew that, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't just suddenly decide to trust this man. It wasn't the way I worked, and a lifetime of experience had instilled the habit of distrust even deeper in me.
It would take more than a cat bed and a few bowls of food to get me to trust him.
A little while later, Riker emerged from the bathroom.
"Computer, time," he said.
"0748 hours," the computer answered.
Riker was apparently upset by this, because he hurriedly put the dishes in the replicator, hit a button, and then left, the door closing behind him.
Rising from the bed, I stretched, feeling my hair rise as I did so. It no longer felt strange to have fur; I had gotten used to it many years before. However, staying in one shape besides my original for too long could become uncomfortable. Not painful exactly, just uncomfortable.
Stepping out of the bed, I slowly walked across the room. I might as well become familiar with my new surroundings. In one corner of the living area, Riker's trombone was proudly sitting on a stand. From the way that he had it proudly presented and shining, I could tell that it was one of his prized possessions. I wondered what else I could find out about him.
About an hour later, I had discovered that Riker liked poker (a lot), jazz, and Risa, which was a planet that I had visited on several occasions. Didn't much care for it.
Done with my inspection, I hopped, with some difficulty, onto Riker's bed and settled down near the foot. It was much softer than my bed was.
For the first time since I had come on board, I relaxed slightly. I was finally alone, and I was now relatively familiar with my surroundings. I could let my guard down, a little.
Again, I must say that I know that I am over-analyzing and over-thinking everything. It may seem like a simple enough solution to you: stay hidden in Riker's quarters for not only the day but for the rest of the trip as well. But for me, it is different. It has to be when you spend your entire life around people who would just as soon hurt you as look at you. At this point, staying in the quarters for the entire voyage had not even occurred to me. It was too risky.
I'm used to sitting around and doing nothing. It comes with the territory. Right then, however, it was actually pleasant. I'd had a stressful day the day before, and at the moment nothing felt better than curling up and knowing that I was in relative safety. If anyone came in right then, they wouldn't call security or have me thrown in the brig when they saw me. They knew I was here, and they didn't mind. I didn't have to hide.
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew I was hitting the floor. Jumping to my feet, I looked around for what had happened. Then I sighed, realizing that I had just fallen off the bed while I was asleep. How had that happened? I'd never fallen off a bed in my life; I hardly even moved around. It must have had something to do with my dream.
Sitting back down on the floor, I tried to remember it. It had been unpleasant, and it had had something to do with Romulans. I pushed it out of my mind. It had been a long time since I had been stowed away on a Romulan ship, and I didn't plan on going back anytime soon. The last time I'd been on their ship had been enough to last me a lifetime.
For the moment, my only worries were going to the bathroom and then eating a rather late breakfast, both of which I did.
Riker didn't come back until later in the afternoon. To my surprise, I was actually glad to see him. However interesting sitting alone might be, it was actually quite nice to be with another person. And I thought that I didn't like people.
From the bedroom, I saw Riker enter and toss his badge on the table.
"Tasha?" he called, looking around the living area. I stood up, then sat back down. Had I just almost run over to him? For goodness sakes, I wasn't a dog. I wasn't even a cat. And I certainly wasn't going to start turning into some meek animal just to please my "master."
A few seconds later Riker saw me and walked over to me.
"Hey cat," he said. He looked around the room. "You didn't scratch up the furniture or anything, did you?" he asked.
Of course not, I thought to myself. I'm not a barbarian.
"I'm beginning to like you," Riker said. He raised his hand. Then, without warning, he reached over and grabbed my head.
Panicking, I jerked away, biting at whatever I could as I did so. Lunging off the bed, I retreated into the corner, the hair along my back rose. From there, I spun to face Riker in case he should follow me. Rarely did someone only attack you once.
He didn't. He was standing with a look of shock on his face, switching his gaze between me and his hand, which was bleeding.
Only then did I realize that he hadn't been attacking me, he'd been petting me. Trying to, rather, until I'd bit him and ran away.
Riker had raised his hand to his face, and was examining his hand. From where I sat, I could make out three puncture wounds, all of which were bleeding. Stepping forward slightly, I approached him. He had been trying to be nice to me, and what had I done? I'd attacked him.
As I slowly walked forward, Riker turned around and left the quarters. I stopped. I had hurt him, and I couldn't even apologize. Maybe I could make it up to him, somehow, when he got back. If he let me stay. I doubted that he would now.
I sat on the couch worrying about it for the next fifteen minutes. It wasn't just that I had hurt someone, I'd done it before when I had had to escape from different ships, it was that I'd hurt someone who had tried to help me. Someone who I was actually beginning to like. And I didn't like many people. This was completely different.
Riker finally got back from Sickbay, which was where I had assumed he had gone. Cautiously observing him from couch, I waited to see his reaction to seeing me again. He didn't look particularly angry, even though he was looking at me with something resembling apprehension.
Hopping down onto the floor, I slowly approached Riker. If I had been frightened when I had first met him, I had more of a reason to be now.
I stopped a meter or so away from him. He was looking down at me, and was absentmindedly touching his right hand where I had bit him. I was glad to see that the doctor had been able to fix it without leaving so much as a scar.
I walked closer and slowly rubbed against his leg in a cat-like gesture. This probably wasn't the smartest move as people of any race tend to be angry at things that have just hurt him, but I couldn't help doing it, however weird it felt. I felt bad for hurting him, and I didn't have any other way to apologize.
I stopped when Riker bent down slighting, laying his hands on his knees.
"Are you going to bite me again?" he asked. I fought the temptation to shake my head. Cats didn't understand English.
Riker must have taken the fact that I was sitting there trying to look as harmless as possible as an negative, as he crouched down until he was sitting on the floor. Carefully, he reached his hand out to me, as he had the day before. Had it only been the day before?
Although I doubted that I would have done so the day before, now I gently rubbed my head against his hand. Riker relaxed slightly, and I realized that he had been on edge ever since he had come in. I almost laughed at this. He had been afraid of me?
Riker petted me for a second, which was rather awkward for me, and then stood up.
"Truce?" he asked. I nodded slightly, even though I doubted Riker would notice it. "Good," he said. "Because if you keep attacking me I'll have to give you to Worf."
I had stolen a crew manifest from the station, and thus knew that Worf was the resident Klingon on board. I stiffened as Riker said this. Would he really do that?
Riker looked at me quizzically. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that you understood that." He shook his head, and turned toward the replicator.
"Hasperat," he said to it. "I was just kidding about giving you to Worf," he added as he picked up the plate. I sighed in relief. While Klingons usually like pets such as Targs, I didn't seem them getting along too well with a cat. Maybe a mountain lion.
Riker sat down at the table, and I hopped onto the chair beside him. I loved hasperat, and the fact that I couldn't eat any at the moment didn't mean that I couldn't enjoy the smell. It smelled better than Cat Supplement Number 8, anyway.
Riker was halfway through his meal when he saw me.
"You like hasperat?" he asked. I avoided his gaze, staring off at some imaginary spot on the wall. I didn't think that normal cats would like hasperat.
Riker laughed suddenly. I looked over at him, confused.
"You're not a normal cat, are you?" he asked.
I played dumb, then realized that sitting a chair smelling hasperat wasn't exactly normal. I quickly hopped down and drank some water out of the water bowl, then curled up in my bed.
"Okay, Tasha, ignore me," he said.
I was beginning to get nervous around him. I had no way of knowing if he talked to all animals like this, or if he actually realized that I understood him. I preferred to believe the former. It was more comforting and, honestly, more likely. There was no way Riker could know that I wasn't anything but a, admittedly weird, cat.
After Riker finished eating, he got on his computer and started looking over something. I sat and watched him. I hadn't been around him for very long and I didn't know him at all, but I was beginning to like him. Anyone who didn't try to kill me upon discovering me in their quarters was a good person in m y book. I wanted to find out more about him.
The rest of the day passed by relatively uneventfully until around 1900. At 1900, the doorbell rang. I was sitting in a chair next to the door when Riker, who was seated across the room, called out to whoever it was to enter.
When the door entered, I saw a Klingon standing there. I stood up, on edge. I didn't have any particular grievance against Klingons, it was just that they were usually volatile. It was strange to see one out of the traditional armored Klingon uniform.
"Commander, may I come in?" he asked.
"Of course, Worf," Riker said, sitting up. "What's on your mind?"
"I wish to be excused from the reception when we arrive at the Starbase," Worf said, obviously uncomfortable. I had heard nothing about a reception, but from the way Worf was acting I could tell that it was unpleasant. I could sympathize.
Riker seemed to find what Worf said amusing.
"Of course, Worf," he said. He paused. "I only wish that I could excuse myself."
"Thank you, Commander," Worf said. He turned to go, and then saw me. I unconsciously stepped back. Drawing the attention of a Klingon wasn't at the top of my to-do list.
Worf froze, and then let out a loud noise, moving towards me at the same time. Terrified, I instinctively jumped backwards off the chair and darted across the room toward the only safe place there was, behind Riker. Jumping onto the couch that Riker was sitting on, I darted onto the headrest behind Riker's head. From there, I looked over at Worf.
He was rubbing his nose, and both he and Riker were staring at me. Riker leaned forward and turned around so that his face was a few inches from mine.
"Tasha?" he asked.
Looking from one to the other, I took in their confused faces. What were they so confused about? Worf had just tried to attack me, and Riker should be standing up for me. I was his cat, after all.
"I'm sorry, Commander, I seem to be allergic to cats," Worf said, wiping his nose one last time and then lowering his arm.
"It's fine, Worf," Riker said, turning back to Worf. "She's just really skittish."
Skittish? From my perch on the couch, I continued to stare at the two of them. Then, the reality slowly began to dawn on me. Worf hadn't inexplicably tried to attack me. He was allergic to cats, and had sneezed. Just as I had done with Riker a few hours before, I had mistaken a perfectly innocent gesture for an attack.
"She'll be fine," Riker said to Worf. Worf took this as a dismissal and left, while Riker turned back toward me.
"You need to calm down," he said, reaching his arm up to gently scratch the top of my head. "Nobody's going to hurt you."
I almost believed him.
"It's not like I'm going to let anything happen to you," Riker continued, for all the world acting like he though I could understand.
I pulled back from Riker, and then hopped down onto the couch. I settled down on the cushion next to him. I was getting over the Worf Scare, and was beginning to think that maybe I was too on-edge.
"You just need to calm down," he said again, returning to his computer. He absentmindedly reached a hand over and put his arm around me.
I jerked up, and hopped down, hurrying past Riker and over to the cat bed. I could not relax, and I could not start thinking that I was too on-edge. Being 'on-edge' was what had kept me alive for the past ten years. I couldn't start feeling at ease on the Enterprise just because I was beginning to trust Riker.
With a jolt, it hit me. I wanted to trust this man, and I had no idea why. True, he had let me stay and had told me that he wouldn't let anything happen to me, but that didn't mean that he would accept or defend me if he knew who I really was. He would probably turn out just like all the other. I couldn't trust him, and I couldn't like him. If I did, then I would get careless.
I was leaving that night, and that was that.
But what if I didn't leave? I asked myself for the first time. What if I just stayed with Riker for the remainder of the voyage? The thought hadn't even occurred to me before, but I found it interesting. Would it work? I'd done it for the past day and a half, why not for another five or so days?
One part of me, the part that had kept me alive for so long, was yelling at me to dismiss the idea and make my escape. I couldn't become emotionally attached to anyone on this ship. But the new part that had started speaking up during the day was telling me to consider staying with Riker. What could be the harm? it was asking. I would just hang out for a few days, and then disappear as soon as we made it to the Starbase. He would never know who I was or what had happened to me.
I thought about what had happened over the past day and a half. Last night I wouldn't have even considered staying for the rest of the voyage. I wouldn't have even thought of it. What had changed between then and now?
I realized that it was Riker. Well, he had changed me. I had begun to trust him. It may not seem like a big thing to you, to trust a person not to hurt a cat, but for me it was a first. I had never put myself in someone else's hands and trusted them to not hurt me before. I wasn't sure if I knew how.
And it wasn't Riker that I was afraid of. If I stayed with Riker, and everyone knew that he suddenly had a new cat, the risk of discovery would increase dramatically. Was it worth it?
I knew that I was on the brink. If I decided to stay then I couldn't turn back. By the next day, the weak, emotional part of me would have probably already become too attached to my surroundings (and Riker) to leave.
Everything in me was screaming at me to run and never come back, but the only thing that I could think of was how, when I had thought that I was in danger from Worf, I had run to Riker for protection. It had been pure instinct, and weren't my instincts worth something?
In the end, I think my mind was already made up and that I was just making one last-ditch effort of bring myself around to reason. But sanity didn't stop me from returning to the couch and spending the rest of the evening dozing (on the side farthest from Riker).
