Perfectly Logical

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

Chapter Twelve: Shuttle Down

"I am never flying with you again!"

"I wasn't that bad, Deanna!"

"Oh no? Seriously, Tasha, you do not know how to fly that thing."

"Can I help it if I've never flown an actual shuttle before?"

"Cadet Yar, a word." The piloting instructor was standing behind them.

Deanna shot Tasha a look that was half smug, half sympathetic and turned away. "I'll see you later."

"What do you need, sir?"

"I couldn't fail to notice your difficulty."

"Is it really as bad as my roommate says?"

"You're not the first cadet to have a little trouble with real shuttles, as opposed to simulated ones. You just need a little tutoring."

"Tutoring?"

"One of your classmates has a particular aptitude for flight. We prefer peer-to-peer tutoring. Report back here at 1400 Thursday."

"Yes, sir."

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Tasha was hardly pleased by her new partner. He was one of the men on campus known for chasing a new girl every week and flirting with others in between. He introduced himself but she wasn't really paying attention, and she got the sense that he wasn't paying attention to her name either, though likely for a different reason.

"All right, show me how much you do know."

She replied with as few words as possible and they got the shuttle in the air. They were only flying the standard route; it wasn't likely to take long, and Tasha was grateful for that. She didn't want to spend a second longer around this cocky cadet than she had to.

They'd been at warp for about ten minutes when Tasha noticed something. "Either there's a problem with the navigational sensors or..."

"Or what?"

The ship lurched violently, and they could see through the viewscreen that they'd come out of warp. "Or there's a problem with the ship," Tasha finished unnecessarily.

"No shit." He hopped into the main pilot's seat. "See if you can get a fix on our position."

"We're more than a light-year off-course. That's what I was going to tell you." She rattled off a series of coordinates just as something exploded behind them.

"We're in trouble!" He frantically pressed a few buttons. "I can't hold her together. Can you find a place for us to set down?"

Tasha accessed the sensors. "I'm reading a Class M planet about a thousand kilometers from here, but it's completely uninhabited."

"We don't have a choice," the pilot said grimly. "I don't dare take her to warp, not in this condition. What are the coordinates?"

Tasha rattled them off, and he started pressing more buttons. In a few moments, the planet loomed before them.

"I'm taking her in. Brace for impact."

Tasha grabbed the console in front of her and hung on. The shuttle plunged through the atmosphere. The pilot continued making adjustments, apparently trying to land as smoothly as possible.

But smooth was the last word Tasha would have used to describe their landing. The ship plowed into the planet and then skimmed roughly along the surface, hit a particularly rough spot, and flipped end-over-end, coming to rest upside-down.

With an expertise learned from years of rough treatment and reinforced by her security training, Tasha was able to tuck and roll when she was thrown from her seat, landing on the roof of the shuttle relatively unharmed. The pilot was not so lucky. He flopped out of his chair and was tossed about like a rag doll.

When the shaking and jolting stopped, Tasha looked up. The young man lay sprawled on the floor. She hurried over to him.

"Hey." This would've been a lot easier if she could remember his name. "Hey. You all right?"

Light blue eyes blinked open. "Just dandy. What happened?"

"Our landing didn't turn out quite the way we planned."

"Ow." He tried to sit up and groaned.

"What hurts?"

"Why do you care?"

"In case you haven't noticed, we're all alone down here. Someone's got to take care of you."

"I think my leg's broken, and everything hurts. I feel like I got run over by a pickup truck."

"A what?"

"Never mind."

She knelt over him. "Which leg?"

"The left. Yes, that one. Ow!" He yelled as she touched it.

"Sorry. You're right, it's broken. I'm going to have to immobilize that. Now, besides the generic 'everything hurts', is there anywhere else you're feeling a particularly strong pain?"

"My right shoulder and side."

Tasha carefully probed at both areas, jerking back when he moaned in pain. "Your collarbone and a few ribs are broken too. Wait here, I need to find something to treat you."

She returned with two long pieces of plastic that she'd pulled from the paneling of the shuttle and as much bandaging as she could find.

"Replicator's out," she reported, carefully splinting his leg with the plastic strips. "Stay off that," she added. "It's only immobilized, not fixed. And I'm going to have to immobilize your right arm too." She managed to create a sling with one of the bandages. "That'll keep you from doing more damage to your collarbone."

"Can I sit up now?"

"I don't see why not, as long as you're careful."

He did. "So, what do we do now?"

"Well, we'll start with me admitting I forgot your name."

This got a small smile out of him. "It's Tom. Tom Paris."

"Tasha Yar. Now I'm going to go have a look around. Try not to move too much."

"Yes, ma'am."

She crawled out through the dented hatch and looked around. The planet was barren, all sand and rock.

First things first. They'd need water. There was no telling how long they'd be stranded. At least she didn't have to worry about attackers.

An hour of exploring, however, turned up nothing in the way of water or edible plant life. Tasha had to turn back before she got too far from the shuttle. In the event of a rescue, she'd need to stay close so she'd be easy to find.

She returned, however, to find an unexpected problem. Tom was sitting slumped over, breathing raggedly. Instantly, Tasha was at his side.

"Tom? What is it?"

"I don't know - everything hurts. Everything really hurts."

"You may be bleeding internally." She tried desperately not to think of Turkana, of the people she'd seen die of injuries like Tom's. This was the Federation, they had doctors, he'd be fine.

"I'm really thirsty. I can't reach the storage bins without standing up. Would you mind...?"

Almost instantly, she'd procured and opened a water packet. He took it in his left hand and brought it to his lips, drinking greedily. "Thanks."

Tasha decided not to tell him that she hadn't been able to find water. He didn't need to know how bad their situation was.

"Some piloting lesson, huh?"

He grinned at her. "Maybe it's turned into a Survival Skills crash course instead." He fidgeted a little. "I suppose I ought to tell you I only got a B-minus in that class."

"It's okay. I got an A."

"Impressive. I've heard it's almost impossible."

"Well, let's just say I've had a lot of experience. Don't worry. This isn't the worst place I've ever been." Something suddenly occurred to her. "Wait, you said your name was Paris? As in, a relative of the teacher teaching the same class you got the B-minus in?"

"Don't remind me. Dad doesn't play favorites."

"Anyway, you're good at piloting, aren't you? I'm terrible at it. Survival Skills and my security and tactical classes are the only thing I'm good at. I only passed Astrotheory because my roommate was helping me, and I can't imagine how I passed Earth History, to say nothing of how I'll pass the other four classes. My roommate's Betazoid, she knows no more about it than I do."

"Not to brag, but Earth history is a hobby of mine. I could help you with that too."

"Hopefully it'll turn out better than our piloting lessons. And I could help you in survival."

xxxxxxxxx

Tom laughed lightly as he woke, causing Tasha to look at him strangely.

"I've ended up sleeping in odd places before, but I've never woken up on a ceiling."

Tasha giggled too. "You hungry?"

"For rations? Not really, no. If you could get down some water, though..."

"I'm on it."

"How did you manage to come off so easy? Thanks," he added as she gave him the water.

"Training. And a lot of practice."

"Been in many shuttle crashes?"

"No. But I've been in enough tough situations to learn basic skills like that one."

"That's what you said yesterday about survival skills. What kind of practice do you have for stuff like this?"

"It's a long story."

"We have time."

"Okay," she acquiesced. "Where do I start?"

"Try just starting where it feels right."

"Okay, then. It all started when I was about three..."

I was originally going to put Tasha's story in this chapter, but it was going to be about five gazillion words long so I broke it here. The next chapter should be up shortly, and then Tom's story is the chapter after that, which should be up within a week.

I am aware that some of this is copy-pasted out of Big Doors, which will also be true for the next chapter. Feel free to skim over those bits.

Please review.