Perfectly Logical

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine.

Chapter Ten: A Friend

It took Tasha only a matter of minutes to unpack her suitcase. Her personal possessions were few: the treasured doll, a few sets of civilian clothes, and a stack of PADDs loaded with books. Her uniforms were provided by the Academy.

So far, Tasha was alone in the room. Her roommate hadn't arrived yet, and she was grateful for the chance to set up by herself. She was somewhat concerned about the roommate in any case. The idea of sharing personal space with another person, especially a stranger, was disconcerting. Except for Phoebe Janeway, Tasha had never had friends her own age. She'd had few enough friends of any age.

Tasha glanced at the window. It was, perhaps, the best feature of the room, looking out over the grounds. Tasha immediately thought that the window seat would be a great place to read.

A loud thumping sound came from the hallway, and Tasha glanced up as she heard someone pressing the lock code on the door. It slid open, and a girl stood there, attempting to drag a huge suitcase through the door.

Well, they might as well get off on the right foot. Tasha rose quickly. "Need a hand with that?"

"Please."

As soon as she tried to lift her end of the suitcase, Tasha realized why the girl was having trouble. Not only was the suitcase huge, it was heavy.

"All right, I'll pull it in from this end, you push from the other end," Tasha suggested. The girl acquiesced and the two of them were able to force the object into the room.

"What's in here?" Tasha asked as the door, finally clear, hissed shut.

"No idea. My mother packed it for me." She smiled. "I'm Deanna Troi."

"Tasha Yar. Does your mother always pack like this?"

"Always. Let's see what she packed this time." Deanna laid the case down flat and opened it. The answer to what she had packed appeared to be a little of everything.

"So," Tasha said before she could think about it, "where'd she pack the kitchen sink?" She winced. "Sorry, that was probably tactless."

But Deanna was laughing. "No it wasn't, it was funny. Not to mention true. You're not quite comfortable with me, are you?"

"Uh, no, I'm not. How did you know?"

"I'm half-Betazoid. If that bothers you -"

"It doesn't. I've lived with telepaths before."

"You have?"

"Sure. My -" Tasha struggled for a term for a second, "foster family is Vulcan."

"At least Vulcans ask before they read people's minds."

"You don't?"

"I try to. I'm only an empath anyway - I can sense feelings but not specific thoughts. But my mother - dear God, my mother. She's a strong telepath, even for a Betazoid, and she never hesitated to use her abilities."

"What about your father?"

"My father was human, but he died when I was seven."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I'm sure you understand what it's like."

"I thought you couldn't make out individual thoughts."

"I can't. But you said you were living with a foster family, so-"

"Both my parents died when I was five."

"I may complain about my mother, but I don't know what I'd do without her." Deanna shook her head sadly. "I hope your foster family is nice, at least."

"They're the family I've always dreamed of ." Tasha smiled. "They've all but insisted I spend the holidays with them, even though I'm eighteen and they don't have any legal responsibility for me."

Deanna smiled kindly, and Tasha's anxiety vanished. She knew in that moment that they'd get along just fine.

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"Are you sure you've got enough chocolate?" Tasha raised her eyebrows at her roommate's meal - chicken in chocolate sauce, chocolate-covered strawberries, and a huge chocolate sundae.

Deanna giggled. "I like chocolate."

"No kidding. Do you ever eat anything else?"

"Yes, of course. I eat it more when I'm in a new place. I'm looking for familiarity among the unfamiliar, I guess."

"Do you always psychoanalyze your food choices?"

She laughed. "I'm studying psychology. I have to start somewhere."

"Psychology? What for?"

"I want to be a counselor."

"So long as you don't start psychoanalyzing my food choices," Tasha replied with false levity. The truth was, she wasn't comfortable with counselors, not after the way she'd been treated by them at the center. But, she reminded herself, Deanna was studying to be a counselor. She wasn't one yet. Deanna was nice, she knew that. Tasha just hoped Deanna would stay that way. After all, if Starfleet doctors were different from other doctors, and Tasha was beginning to suspect they were, maybe Starfleet counselors were different from other counselors?

"Tasha?"

"Hm?"

"You weren't listening to a word I was saying."

"Sorry. I got distracted. What did you say?"

"I asked what you're studying."

"Oh. Security."

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"You want some help?"

Deanna looked up from the massive suitcase. "Don't you have anything to unpack?"

"Already did. Before you got here."

The dark-haired girl looked around the room. "Don't you own anything?"

"Why do I need to? You own enough for both of us."

Deanna smiled briefly but then sobered up. "Seriously. You have something like ten pieces of clothing, a doll. and a stack of PADDs. Didn't your foster family give you anything to take?"

"I've never had much use for things," Tasha admitted. "Frankly, this may sound silly to you but the amount I have almost seems excessive to me."

Deanna's eyes widened. "Really?"

"When I was growing up, it was a miracle if I had one change of clothes." Tasha hadn't really intended to tell her that, but there was something about Deanna that just made her open up easily.

"Where -" she started, but stopped herself. "Never mind, I won't ask. You'll tell me if you want me to know."

"I appreciate that. Who's that?" Tasha had spotted a picture of a man in Starfleet dress uniform and a woman in an elaborate dress who looked a lot like Deanna.

"My parents, on their wedding day. I'm just glad she put in one from the reception and not the ceremony."

"Why's that?"

Deanna giggled mischeviously. "I doubt it would have been appropriate for this environment."

"Why? What were they wearing?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Betazoid tradition. All weddings are performed with participants and guests completely naked."

"You're joking."

"Nope. Let's just say that on a world of telepaths, modesty is relative."

"I suppose so."

"No one's forced to go naked, of course. Occasionally, someone from offworld will attend dressed. But most of the time even offworlders end up going naked because they feel uncomfortable being the only one dressed." She grinned slyly. "It certainly gives the groom a nice view of his bride, and vice-versa."

"Right." Tasha was still struggling to get used to the idea of sex and sexuality being consensual and pleasurable for everyone involved, but she didn't think this was an appropriate moment to bring that up. "It must be fun for the friends who are getting married next month too."

Deanna laughed again. "That it is."

"How would you know?"

"Telepaths, remember?"

So no one's confused, as far as I'm concerned EU novels are canon as long as they fit in with my ideas. So this chapter probably defies EU canon, but frankly I really don't care.

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