Perfectly Logical

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

Chapter Twenty-Five: Post-Wolf 359

USS Agamemnon

USS Antares

USS Archer

USS Bradbury

USS Challenger

There. Her heart leaped into her throat as she found the thing she'd been dreading; the name of a ship carrying a friend.

USS Copernicus

She swallowed hard, blinking back tears. She reminded herself that much of the Saratoga's crew had escaped unharmed. Maybe, just maybe, he'd made it off too?

She glanced down at the PADD again, and then anger overcame her and she hurled it at the wall. It hit with a satisfying slam.

"Is there a problem?"

She loved her foster family, but this was one of these times she really wished Vulcan hearing wasn't what it was.

"Uh, no, not really."

"I heard a collision."

"I, uh, threw the PADD at the wall. Come in, I don't like talking to you from behind a door."

The door opened and Tuvok stepped in. "Was there a reason you engaged in this activity?"

"I was frustrated with something I read."

He said nothing, just stood there waiting for her to elaborate.

"The name of the ship a close friend serves on. His name isn't on the casualty list, but you know as well as I do that it's still being updated."

"We also share the knowledge that there are survivors from many of the vessels. You cannot assume the worst until you know for certain."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," she admitted softly. "I was so excited, you know, when the Borg cube was destroyed."

"As a person with emotions, you were entitled to that excitement."

"But how could I have forgotten about everything that had been lost in the fight? All those people, some of them civilians. And I just forgot about them because I was so glad it was all over and that we'd beaten the Borg."

"That sentiment is understandable."

"Are you trying to make me feel better?"

"Merely pointing out that your reactions had logical cause. There is something else bothering you, is there not?"

"The day before yesterday, I visited the center where I lived when I met you."

"And there is a problem with the shelter."

"Oh, no, sir. There isn't one problem. There are dozens of them."

"Naturally, this would agitate you, to see troubles at a place that had sheltered and cared for you."

"What?" She realized what he was saying and almost laughed at the incredulity of it. "Oh, these problems aren't new. They've been there all along."

"But you never noticed them."

"No, I noticed. I - I'm not sure how to explain this."

"Perhaps it would be best if you just say what is on your mind."

"I hated every second I spent inside that center. It wasn't like a home, it was more like a prison."

"Exaggeration will not accomplish effective conversation."

"Who says I'm exaggerating?"

"I doubt the center was truly similar to a prison."

She resisted the urge to argue on principle, and instead decided to counter him in the only way one could argue against a Vulcan - with fact. "The counselors they employed were incompetent and seemed more interested in stroking their own egos than actually helping the people they were counseling. I was blamed for everything that happened to me while I was on Turkana; the rape, my sister abandoning me, all of it. My drug use, which I've told you was an act of desperation, was treated as some sort of willful rebellion and used as proof that I had no character. We weren't allowed private contact with anyone; all communication with anyone from the outside, and there wasn't much of it, was monitored. There were a total of forty-seven rules, all of which had to be memorized and recited on command, and many of which were either overly restrictive or extremely subjective and open to interpretation. Breaking - or even being perceived to have broken - any one of those rules required a rote apology and often resulted in what was officially called a 'discipline sanction', which would last for a designated number of days. While on discipline sanction, I was forced to write lines daily and refused contact with anyone. I also wasn't allowed to eat real food, only these nutritional drinks that didn't even dull hunger, and -" she broke off and drew a deep breath before telling him what she hadn't told anyone, "when I was first sentenced, or if I committed another offense while on the sanction and it was extended, I was beaten."

"Beaten?"

"With a leather belt."

He sat next to her, and his face was even more serious than usual. "So what you are telling me is that while you were in the custody of the center, you suffered both physical and emotional abuse, as well as deprivation of food?"

She nodded silently. "I'd tried to put it behind me, but being back there - it brought it all back."

"On one occasion while you were in the testing process, you collapsed from low blood sugar. Was that caused by these 'discipline sanctions'?"

"The first time we met, I wasn't supposed to be there. I sneaked away from the center because I needed a way into Starfleet, and I knew they wouldn't let me go. I was put on discipline for three months for that and a few other things I did at the same time."

"You were denied food for three months?"

She nodded. "I would have been, anyway. I moved in here before the sentence was complete."

"Those drinks are meant only for short-term emergency use or as a supplement to an insufficient diet. It is extremely inadvisable and even somewhat dangerous to survive on them alone for long periods of time, especially if they are consumed only on alternating days. When you collapsed, it had been four weeks since our first meeting. Therefore, I assume you had not eaten in four weeks?"

"The last meal I'd had was the meal I ate with you, and as soon as I got back to the center, they forced me to throw that up - I was on discipline already then, I hadn't eaten for a few days before that."

"And yet, I doubt we were being monitored at the point at which you collapsed. I asked you about the cause, and you were evasive."

"I didn't know you very well then. I was worried that if you knew I was in trouble, you'd reject me."

"I would not have."

"I know that now. I didn't then. I'm sorry I lied."

"Your lack of truthfulness is not what concerns me. If you had told me at the time, I would have reported it and it could have been stopped. Since you have been away from the center for thirteen years, I do not believe a report at this date would accomplish much, as there would be no evidence."

"I'm looking into it, and so is a friend of mine, trying to find something concrete. I want it closed. I don't want anyone else to go through what I did."

"That is admirable."

"If I do gather evidence to file a claim, will you help me then?"

"I would be displeased if, at that time, you did not ask for my assistance."

"Thank you. This means a lot to me." She sat up. "Do you hear a door?"

"Yes," he said, suddenly puzzled. T'Pel had called him only two days ago with the news that she intended to turn their emergency evacuation to Vulcan into a permanent move, feeling that after the near-disaster, she no longer wanted to remain in a place that was considered the heart of the Federation, since other enemies might attack for exactly that reason. Tasha knew that, despite his stoicism, despite the fact that he understood the logic of the situation, this hurt him deeply. He didn't like the idea of living in a different place than his entire family, but moving to Vulcan was out of the question. However, his family's absence did raise one question; why was the door opening?

"Does anyone in the area know your lock code?"

"Only you and I." He stood slowly, and she stood with him. But what they found at the bottom of the stairs wasn't exactly what they were expecting.

"It is generally polite to send a message to someone before entering their home unanticipated."

"I did attempt to do so." The sixteen-year-old placed her bag on the floor. "But it was impossible to get a signal through with all the comm traffic."

"Why are you here?"

"Because I want to be." Asil walked towards her father. "I do not belong on Vulcan. I am not like the people there. There is nothing there for me."

"And here? What is there for you here?"

"I have been considering for some time the possibility of joining Starfleet. Now, with the recent tragedy, it seems more logical than ever. Many personnel have been lost, and they will need people to begin to refit their ranks. I believe that I am capable." She paused. "If you do not wish for me to stay here, I will return to Vulcan until such time, if it comes, as I am accepted into the Academy."

"That would be illogical. I know far more about Starfleet Academy entrance requirements than anyone on Vulcan does."

"Then I may stay?"

"You may indeed. But do not leave your things on the floor."

Tasha couldn't help smiling as her sister picked up the bad she'd dropped on the floor. Tuvok left the room to attend to - something - and she hugged the younger girl tightly.

"Are you all right?" Asil asked, puzzled by her strange behavior.

It wasn't until Tasha heard her voice that she realized Asil's mouth was now above her shoulder. She was no longer a baby. "I'm okay," she assured her. "It's been an emotional few weeks is all. There were times I didn't think I'd see you or your father or my friends again."

"You serve on the Enterprise, correct?"

"Yes."

"You were in grave danger. I have observed that at such moments, humans have a tendency to consider the people to whom they are closest, often accompanied by feelings of regret that they will not have a chance to see those people again. I am certain everyone aboard your ship felt the same way. At least, everyone who was not Vulcan."

"Yeah, except Data."

"Data - Data. Lieutenant Commander Data. The only sentient android in Starfleet. He does not experience emotion?"

"Not as humans think of it, anyway. I don't know where I would have been without him during those days."

"You would not have been on the Enterprise without the Commander's presence?"

"No - I mean in an emotional sense. He was there for me when we lost the Captain, through all my grief and guilt. He forced me to eat and sleep when I was determined to run on adrenaline alone."

"So what you mean is that you do not know what would have happened to you or how you would have functioned without him."

"Exactly. Though if he hadn't been there, I have no doubt someone else would have been forcing food into me."

"You have faith in your comrades."

"Absolute, total faith. Why else would I have gone along with Will Riker's insane suggestion?"

"It was his idea to recapture the former Captain Picard."

"Current Captain Picard," she corrected a little sharply.

"But at the time, he was the former Captain Picard."

"That's true," she conceded. "Anyway, yes, it was Will's idea, and it was crazy. But it worked."

"That I surmised."

xxxxxxxxx

Tasha looked around, a little self-consciously. Data had relayed to her an anonymous comm message containing only one sentence.

Tasha - Meet me at Starfleet Academy outside the main cafeteria at 1400.

Data had offered to trace the comm signal, but she'd declined. It was his break as well, and she wanted him to relax. Starfleet Academy was teeming with people. Nothing could possibly happen there. Nothing except looking silly, waiting for someone who never came.

Then she saw him. Tall, pale-haired, blue eyed. She recognized him instantly and tried to call out, but her tongue was frozen in her mouth. It didn't seem to matter. He noticed her.

"Tasha." He grabbed her around the shoulders and hugged her tightly.

"Tom," she whispered back. "I thought you were dead. I heard about the Copernicus."

"I got out in a shuttle." His voice was thick. "Only about fifty. Once the bridge blew up, I went to help evacuate the civilians. We launched five shuttles and eleven escape pods before the ship blew, but -" he broke off.

"But what?" she asked comfortingly.

"My group was the only one that made it. One shuttle, three pods. I managed to hide us in the wreck of a destroyed ship. The other groups weren't so lucky. I should have done something, anything, for them, but there were only three officers altogether, and I couldn't risk civilian lives."

"You did the right thing."

"Starfleet agreed with you," he said bitterly. "That's how I got this." He pointed to his collar, and Tasha noticed the second gold pip. "A commendation, too. But I don't deserve it."

"You couldn't have saved everyone." She hugged him again. "If you'd rushed out there, you'd only have gotten yourself and fifty people killed."

"That's what I keep telling myself. But I heard the comm calls, Tasha. I heard the pilots begging for help. I heard the children crying, Tasha. The children on those shuttles. The children I failed." He was nearly crying now. "I failed them, Tasha. I let them die. I let those babies die." And then he could no longer hold back his tears, and he was sobbing into her shoulder. "I hear their screams every night, every time I close my eyes."

"Shh, just let it out." She pulled him close, cradling him like the older sister she often felt like. "Just cry, it's okay."

He wept into her shirt, grieving for all the lives he hadn't been able to save. Soon enough, his tears slowed and he looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. "Sorry for crying all over you like that."

"Uh-uh. I owe you for letting me sob all over you on the hill that time."

He nodded, acknowledging this. "Hey, I'm headed for home now. You want to come with?"

"I shouldn't."

"Tasha, my mom loves you. She'll fuss over you just like she will over me. And my dad likes you too. Come on."

xxxxxxxxx

Tasha had never actually been to the Paris' main house before, but she doubted it was usually this full. Tom's parents, Moira, a pregnant Kathleen, Bryan, and their two children, many of the family members she remembered from Christmas and a few she didn't. Most striking was an older woman sitting alone. She hadn't joined in the hugging and cheering.

"Aunt Tali," Tom explained once he had a second to breathe. "Great-aunt Natalia, actually, but we call her Aunt Tali. She's always been a little strange. Just ignore her."

But that wasn't to be. The woman sought her out.

"You look like my daughter," she said shakily.

"Ma'am?"

"You look like my daughter," she repeated. "You look like my daughter! No one should look like her! What right do you have to come in here looking like her, to stand there, like her and not like her. What right do you have to look like her?" She fell to her knees, shaking. Tasha turned to call for help, only to see that Owen was already rushing over. The woman was taken into a separate room and a doctor was called. The gathering broke up quickly, and soon only Tom, his parents, his sisters, and Tasha were sitting in the room.

"Why was she so upset about me looking like her daughter?" Tasha asked tentatively.

"That's a very long story. But I suppose you have the right to hear it. Aunt Tali and her husband, my uncle Eugene," here he glanced over at Tom, who bore his uncle's name as a middle name, "wanted a large family, but they were only ever able to have one child."

"Her daughter."

"Exactly. My cousin Eva." Tom saw Tasha flinch a little at the name, but if anyone else noticed, they said nothing. "She was my favorite cousin growing up. She was five years younger than I was, but it never kept her from wanting to do everything I did. Even as we grew up, we remained close, more like siblings than cousins. Starting when I was twenty-five and she was twenty, she started trying to set me up with her friends." He smiled at Julia and took her hand. "She did a pretty good job of it too, if I do say so myself."

"Eva was one of my dearest friends," Julia added, "and we just got closer after Owen and I married. Then about three years later, she came around announcing she was dating this man, Matthew, a man of some power in a Federation colony. And she was totally head-over-heels for him. But Tali wouldn't let Eva marry him because she didn't want her to move so far away. So they eloped. Owen performed the ceremony, and Matthew's brother and I were witnesses. She wrote to her mother from their transport, telling her what she'd done."

"Eva wrote us and her mother for years," Owen continued, "telling us everything that was happening, and we wrote back. Eight years into her marriage, she wrote and told us she was pregnant. We were ecstatic for her. She had a baby girl about ten months before Tom was born. She and Julia wrote each other almost daily for those first few years. Then she wrote this one letter, and it was different. She was scared. She said something was wrong, people were being shot in the streets. We tried to get her to leave, but she wasn't leaving her husband or sending her daughter away from her. She became pregnant again, and this time her letter was combined joy and fear. She asked if she was wrong in bringing a child into such a place. Six months in, she wrote us, desperate, saying she'd finally seen enough and begging us to send a ship for her. The evacuation vessels couldn't land safely anymore, and people who tried to congregate for transport were shot and bombed. I told her I'd see what I could do, but no matter who I talked to, I couldn't get a ship willing to go near that place. The whole colony essentially imploded after that. All hell broke loose, communications went down, and the whole planet was cut off from the rest of the galaxy. Tali was never the same after Eva disappeared."

As he finished the story, he gripped his wife's hand tighter. She had tears running down her face, and Kathleen and Moira were in a stunned silence after hearing, for the first time, the history of their lost relative. Tom, on the other hand, was less concerned with the story itself than he was with its effect on Tasha, who looked like she might burst into tears. But before anyone could say anything, the doctor came in.

"She's resting comfortably," he reported. "But Admiral Paris, as her closest living relative, I need you to sign -"

"Excuse me, doctor," Tasha interrupted softly, "but if I'm right, Admiral Paris is not Natalia Paris' closest relative."

"Oh, really? Then who is?"

She bit her lip and drew a deep breath. "Me. I am."

Most of this came to me when I was half-asleep, which is when my most out-there ideas tend to take shape. I'd been intending to give Tasha some kind of family history eventually, and this just sort of occurred to me.

Please review. Even just a sentence or two, so I know you're still reading and still engaged.