The BLTS Archive - The Wake
fourteenth in the Riding The Tick series
by R.Schultz (cousindream@aol.com)

---

Spoilers: Set in a period immediately after the official Memorial
service for Natasha Yar in "Skin Of Evil", in ST: The Next Generation.

Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belong to Paramount, and I'll put
them all back in a moment. Shouldn't sue because no money is involved
here. This story belongs to me under common-law copyright. Originally
written in Oct., 2000, re-written in Nov., for the Femme_Fuh-q_Fest
story group. Sexual relations between adult (fictional) consenting
females is mentioned, as well as the other kind. If the thought
bothers you, do not read. We're all supposed to accept the reality of
such relationships, are adult ourselves, and are writing for adults
only. No graphic sex.

Will be posted to ASCEM. May be archived. I hope for some notification
of the fact.

---

I was turning off the holo when the door chimed. On the other side
stood Bev, Doctor Crusher. Gray man's shirt, tapered black pants,
still jittery but under control.

I stepped to meet her, embracing, holding, comforting. Controlling my
own pains. I must be.... No, I must appear calm. For Bev and whoever
else might appear tonight.

"Is that new, Deanna?" Meaning my yellow and red raiment.

"It's modeled on a Hindi dress, called a sari. Only this one has a
tenth of the fabric, and simply uses bindi's to keep it together. Very
comfortable, actually." A pause. "It seemed appropriate to wear
something gay and colorful tonight."

Beverly made a motion, and I stopped her. "Your choice is appropriate
to you, Beverly. Friend. Come, sit down, here, sit, let me play
hostess. Please."

When I came back with the bucket and dark bottle and two glasses, Bev
made to stand. I pushed her down and poured a quarter glass for her,
then me.

Cloudy, young, not yet aged. A Beaujolais, so red as to be black. Bev
asked a question with a look when she saw the label.

"It's from the estate of Jean-Luc's first cousin. It also is a Picard.
I bought it to begin my lover's education in wines. A pleasant sort of
a schooling, yes?" I didn't need to say names. We raised a silent
toast as I sat down alongside my Doctor friend. I downed my wine in
three smooth draws. Bev stared at my now empty glass, then did the
same.

The holo came on as I refilled our glasses. "Vivaldi?"

"Mozart. 'The Magic Flute' sung in German. It was a small gift.
Waiting against my door one night. She must have run to get there
before me; she'd just been on the bridge."

The comedy began to unfold before us, the costumes glittering and
tawdry, the singing superb. It was the Martian State Company.

Bev's hand was shaking, forcing her to set the glass beside her on the
deck. "She had this game," Beverly began. "She'd strip us both nude,
you know how she was ...." A statement, not an admission. A starship
was such a small village. We all knew who was seeing who. As in
Beverly and Natasha, and as in myself, Ship's Counselor, and Natasha.

Will, my Imzadi, had once mentioned the rumor of my affair with Tasha
to me. That was all. Just a mention, nothing more. He was jealous, I
knew that, but isn't the essence of civilization the ability to
surmount our basest desires and turn them into civility?

"I know," I replied. "She would make love to me while the holo played
behind her. Her eyes on me, mine on the opera."

Bev added: "A few times she somehow presented me .... The opera, when
it reached a crescendo ..."

I gave a soft chuckle. "She knew her favorite operas well, and she
timed them .... She knew when the dramatic moments arrived. She did it
for me too, only I called her on it." We held hands, watching, not
crying. Eventually we leaned together, leaned into each other,
depended on the other. The tears came then.

Tears only come readily when we are in the company of people we
believe may sympathize with us. Solitary tears are the worst because
we will never receive closure from someone else. They are our own
gangrene. These were cleansing.

Bev had wisely worn no makeup, nor had I. Besides which, friends
didn't count as someone we had to be pretty for. Eventually we
straightened up, the holo totally ignored.

"We may have other ... crew members, friends ... we might have other
of her lovers here tonight." I knew of three others. Bev looked oddly
at me, knowing I was following another chain of logic. There was
something else I needed to say. To ask.

"In the near future, the very near future, could I. Come. To you for
... counseling?"

A stricken look blossomed on Bev's face. "Of course," she whispered.
"Who does the Ship's Counselor see when the Counselor needs help
herself? I may not be very good at it, but I'd love to have you visit
me. Maybe I can learn from you. Good enough?"

She revealed why she had worn pants when she fished a small box from a
pocket. Inside lay two earrings. She gave them to me. "Please. Take
them. Tasha would never let me return them. She gave them to me that
night I had the Birthday and told everyone I had a woman for a lover.

She put one through one of my ears, judging the result. I looked
closely at the other. Both had a heart of darkness behind transparent
plas. I wondered what that jagged darkness was.

"It's steel, ordinary iron." Bev looked ready to cry again. "Tash was
in the Legion, a mercenary band. The local war was officially over,
but no one told the explosive someone stepped on.

"Tash died then. Was revived, and for years afterward underwent
operations to remove the many fragments of shell-case still in her
body. These were the very last. She carried them in her heart for all
that time, actually within her heart. When the Medico's of Starfleet
finally retrieved these last two souvenirs, Tasha kept them.

"She had them cut and polished and turned into plas-imbedded earrings.
For me. Straight from her heart to me. They were from her heart,
Deanna, and I think you should have them rather than me. You were her
last lover, Deanna."

I was the one crying this time. When I leaned back, Bev carefully
threaded the other one into my other earlobe.

The door chimed. "Data," Bev said. She was wrong. Worf stood there in
full uniform, still in Fleet red.

Once I would have been surprised, now it seemed appropriate.

Worf carefully settled into a chair by the couch, tense, not knowing
if he should leave. I came back with a large blood wine for him, and
told him to sit, to stay. After all, he belonged in this special wake
for Tasha's lovers.

We all here knew now that he, too, had been one of her special
friends, her lovers.

"You and Lieutenant Yar enjoyed many holodeck exercises together,
didn't you?" I dropped inquiring words into this pool of silence.

"Yes," he returned, "Yellow Hair was learning the Bat'leth from me,
and she was teaching me to throw her Toothpick."

Bev appeared confused.

"It is a large knife, or short sword. With perfect balance and the
ability turn over in the air in three times its length. When thrown
correctly." I must see whether Worf would want that knife as a
personal memento.

"Is that when the two of you first were lovers?" I dug.

Bev goggled a touch, quickly taking another drink of wine. To Worf it
was almost a commendation. I had approved his meetings with Yar by
bringing them into the open.

"It was ..." Stumbling for words. "Something I am proud of. Her taking
me for a lover, a mate. The first time ..." I believed our Klingon was
blushing. "It was after she and you (indicating Bev) were no longer
mated. Yellow Hair. She ... It was a true Klingon mating, full of
snarls and yells and growling before she purred into my face and drew
my blood. She had a Klingon heart, Lieutenant Yar. She tore much flesh
from my shoulders and arms and crest, gave me much honor."

"Oh my..." Doctor Crusher murmured. "The times... I'd thought you were
running the holodeck with impaired safeties again. Battling demons
that could draw blood. It was in a report to Jean-Luc twice. Did he
ever say anything to you?"

Bev was finally beginning to believe her own past lover had stepped
from her bed into one with a male in it. With a Klingon. REALLY rough
sex. Ogawa probably fixed up Natasha's breaks and lacerations without
making it official.

I brought a large bowl of food, snacks, to lay on the table, the
holovid off for now. Worf took a few, staring at them.

"It's popcorn. Human food. Salted and exploded corn grains."

Bev dipped in with relish, almost stuffing her mouth. Most ungraceful.
Almost. Worf tried some, took more and larger samplings. His light
twitching around the mouth I took for a smile.

The next one through the door was Geordi. He took a cold Rajah beer
from the replicator, and kissed both Bev and I before sitting down.
Realizing Worf was here for the same reason as himself. As were the
two of us women.

"Academy?" I questioned. He had the grace to blush.

"Years ago, I was two years ahead of her at the Academy. She was a
nice older woman for me, two years older. We were both outsiders
there," he laughed. His blush remained. "We had a year and a half. We
depended on each other for a great deal, during that time. She got me
through Tactics and summer maneuvers, I got her through Exobiology and
Subatomic Theory."

Looking down at his drink. "I hoped once that we might stay together,
but it didn't work out that way. Even when we were assigned to the
ENTERPRISE together. What was past was past. She always assumed we'd
stay friends, and you know how she could be when she had her mind set
in stasis. I guess that's what we were, on this ship. Friends.

"You remember with Q ... I had normal sight and I saw her, really saw
her, for the first and only time on the Bridge. She was all I wanted
to look at."

Geordi didn't object when I signaled him to come into the kitchen nook
with me. The lights were dimmed and the sound was repressed. In our
private semi-darkness he proved to me even his blank eyes could cry.
He had someone he could cry for, with, against, on. It was good.

Data appearing next was almost an anti-climax. He sat next to me on
the couch, quiet. Until he said suddenly: "I shall miss her. She was
something very special to me." We all knew how. Part of it. Their
one-night love affair had to be one of the most widely known pairings
in recent Starfleet history.

He looked around, noting our silence. The first and last and only
meeting of the Lover's Wake for our Tasha.

The door-chime broke the silence. The door opened to reveal a
short-haired white-blonde maned human female. She was an Elec-Mag Tech
from Com & Repairs. She was the last. She didn't stay long,
uncomfortable with us Upper Decks. So young she was. Samantha was her
name.

She made an appointment for later, when I was alone. She had her own
tears to shed.

In the lengthening silence Geordi finally said we should...play poker.
We stared at him, willing him to explain. "If she were here, she'd
enjoy playing Poker. With us. Loving the way we'd try to interact,
trying not to growl at each other because we were all her lovers."

Never asking once if Tasha was lez or straight or bi. Natasha was
Natasha. End of story.

"If not now, certainly we could schedule a game later. For Natasha.
Sometimes we might think of Tasha. Eventually we might be able to let
her go.

"That's how it works, doesn't it? You let it go, over time, rather
than holding it as tight to you as you can?"

"Will..." My Imzadi. "He would like to join the poker games, if we
have more than one. He's the one who taught me Poker. He loves games,
all types of games. I'll invite him, if it's acceptable with everyone
else?"

"The Natasha Yar Memorial Card Playing And Bullshitting Friday Night
Poker Club?" Geordi supplied. Our chief engineer was developing
interesting bulges to his character.

"I'll invite Jean-Luc, the, ah, our Captain. It would do him good to
be able to shed that damned tight command facade once a week," Bev
added.

"What about the Below-Decks, the girl that was just here?"

"Samantha?" Data supplied. "She is leaving the ENTERPRISE the middle
of next month. With more Life-Sciences training, she'll be advanced in
rank, then sent to one of the Deep Space stations. Maybe she'll stay
at 24. That is large for a station. She will be able to learn many
skills there.

"Eventually assigned to one of the newer ships they're going to be
building at Planarium. That is what she is hoping for. Her request is
for VOYAGER when it is built."

"Let's invite her anyway," I coaxed. "Give her a nice memory to take
off the ship. Yes?" They agreed.

"It will be two years before they even launch the keel of the first of
the new class," Data continued. "They're calling it the INTREPID class
at the moment, but they may alter the class title later. I hope they
will retain the title for one of the ships themselves. It is very
fitting.

"We are in agreement then? Poker Friday Nights?" We were all in
agreement. "Shall we have our first game now? I don't know if I'll
want future meetings here, in my rooms. But we can appropriate
someplace later. I've a few decks of cards... Yes, Worf?" I asked.

"Will you show me how to play the game? I am unfamiliar with this
human pastime, but I should be a fast learn."

Bev stared at him for a moment. "Worf, if I find out later you're
already acquainted with the game.....!"

"Would I lie to you, fire-hair?" he replied.

Klingon notions of Honor might not apply in this special case of
game-playing. And that almost looked like the beginnings of a smile,
there, on his face.

---

continued in the fifteenth story in the Riding The Tick series 'Never'