"Riker to Tasha Lawrence."
I hopped up before realizing I was wearing a communicator. I tapped it. "Tasha here."
"You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Any transmissions from Sandor?"
"I don't know what you did, but Minister Grey just contacted us. He wants to meet, and you're coming down. Meet us in Transporter room three."
"I'm on my way," I managed, surprise nearly rendering me speechless as I hurried out my door.
"Captain, I'd feel better about this if you let me go down," Riker was saying when I entered the transporter room.
"Number One, your concern is appreciated but I think hardly necessary."
"Captain, you're entering a potentially hostile situation."
"Will, I understand your concern," Picard said, raising a hand. "But I am bringing Mr. Worf with me and I doubt Sandor would choose a diplomatic meeting to stage an attack." When Will opened his mouth to protest, Picard cut him off. "If we need your assistance, I'm sure we can count on you." He turned to me, although I had no idea when he had first noticed I was there.
"Thank you for coming down. Grey requested that you come because you're from the planet. I suspect he'll feel more comfortable around you."
I nodded although my stomach was knotting up.
"Captain, about Grey..."
"Don't worry, you won't have to do any actual diplomacy. Grey most likely thinks you will be sympathetic to his situation and so wants you there." He nodded at Worf and then to me. "Let's go."
I followed the two them up onto the platform. As Picard nodded to transporter chief O'Brien, I shot Will a smile. Then the transporter room disappeared.
*
When I drifted back into awareness, my first thought was that I was lying on something soft. I groaned, shifting about, and realized my face was pressing into some kind of fabric. For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to snuggle into the warm blankets but as my consciousness returned, as did my memory, or lack thereof.
As it came back, I flipped over and hastily scanned my surroundings. I was alone, at least for the moment, in a small room. The bed occupied nearly a third of it and the only other furnishings were an armchair and an opaque screen that must have hidden a bathroom. Whoever had designed the room had done so with great care; it even had a rug on the floor and a painting hanging on the wall. The only thing it missed was a door.
Unsteadily I sat up and immediately realized I was dizzy. My head was already throbbing and the rest of my body sore, which made me think that however I had arrived here, it hadn't been comfortably. I thought back to my last clear memory, trying to figure out where I could be. The last thing I remembered was being in the transporter room with Picard and Worf, about to beam over. Or maybe I had beamed down, I couldn't remember.
Shaking my fuzzy head didn't clear it so I stood up, grabbing onto the wall briefly for support. As I leaned my arm against the wall, I noticed a bracelet on my wrist. Jerking it close to my face, I discovered it was a metal bracelet about a quarter centimeter thick and four wide with flat edges, wrapping around my wrist with no apparent clasp or any other way to get it off. The shiny, silver-gray metal was completely smooth and, although it wasn't tight, I could no more pull it over my wrist than I could walk through this cell wall.
Once stable, I explored my room. Despite the decorations, nothing here was useful in determining where I was. The furniture was bolted down or, in the case of the bed, actually built into the wall. As I grew more aware, my panic rose. Starting at one corner, I hurried around the wall, looking for any sign of an exit. I found none, just smooth metal. Breathing harder, I started around the room again, desperate for a way out.
Stop, I told myself firmly. Wait. I forced myself to stand still, slowing my breathing. I could not afford to panic. Someone had put me in this cage, that much was obvious, but I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me panic. This room had been built for a human or Sandorian, not a shapeshifter. It couldn't be airtight and that meant I could get out. I could just shapeshift and escape. I closed my eyes and shifted.
I came to lying on the hard rug, flat on my back. I blinked a few times, staring up at the lighted ceiling. Cautiously, I rose to my feet. What had just happened? Again, I closed my eyes and focused on changing my form.
When I awoke the second time, on the floor again and still in my Sandorian form, I couldn't dismiss the fact that this wasn't a coincidence. Both times I had tried to shift, I had passed out. Something, I had no idea what, was preventing me from shifting. The idea made my breath come faster and my palms turn clammy. Shifting had always been my defense, my way out of any situation, and now I couldn't do it.
As terror filled me, I fought the urge to simply crawl onto the bed and curl up into the fetal position. The Enterprise would find me. Belatedly, I remembered the com badge I had been given, only to find it wasn't attached to my shirt any longer. It didn't matter, I told myself. The Captain and Lieutenant Worf had been with me. Either they would get out of here and come find me or else Will on the Enterprise would rescue all of us. It was just a matter or time. In the meantime, I wasn't going to cower. I started at the bed and slowly started to look for a way out. Other people managed without shape-shifting and so would I.
Time didn't seem to pass in the tiny room. Nothing changed, not the yellow light emanating from overhead nor the eerie silence that had to come from sound-proofed walls. Long before I gave up my escape attempt, hunger began to set in. I kept up my search, though, until I was forced to admit that this was a perfect cage. There was no way out. Eventually, I sank to the floor, reluctant to even use the arm-chair provided for me.
I was sitting cross-legged on the rug when I heard the rush of air and metallic sound of metal scraping against metal. As I hastily stood and backed up against the bed, a section of the wall to my left slid open. As I saw shadowy movement just beyond the opening, I immediately reacted by instinct and tried to shift. The last thing I saw was someone entering the cell.
I jerked upright as soon as I regained consciousness. Blinking spots out of my eyes, I immediately realized I was not alone. A middle-aged man sat quietly in the armchair near the foot of the bed, hands folded serenely on his lap. As I swung my legs over the side of the bed and shook my head to clear it, a slow smile spread over his face.
"I see you've joined the living," he said, a faint accent tingeing his words, marking him as from the north. "I was getting worried about you. Three times in just a few hours, not very wise."
Other questions came to my mind, but the one that came out was, "You've been watching me?"
"Of course. I had to make sure you didn't hurt you yourself. You do have a history of that." Something in the way he said it made my blood run cold. I couldn't keep my face from showing everything I was feeling as I stared at him. He smiled smugly as he continued. "You're surprised I know? Don't be. I know all about you, Tasha. Miss Lawrence, a common name, probably why you gave it to us instead of picking a new one. Not very wise, though, was it, coming back here after all this time. Not after what you did."
"What do you want?" I demanded, grasping fistfuls of blanket in each clenched hand.
The man's face darkened, his sparse, graying stubble clinging to his clenched jaw. "You. But we can get to that later," he added, waving his hand as if to brush away an unwanted concern. "Right now, I want to know why the Federation tried to get you to infiltrate Sandor."
Despite my bleak circumstances, I almost laughed at the absurdity. "Infiltrate? Sandor? I'm not here to spy on you, I'm here to get you to talk."
"Come now, Tasha, let's not play games. I don't think you'll like my rules. Now, tell me what your mission here was."
"My mission was to get your stubborn government to communicate with the Federation!" I told him, my anger fueled by fear. "No one would even try to negotiate with them, least of all that Sebastian Grey. Where is he, anyway? I glanced around for hidden cameras, but found none. "Is he watching us, too?"
"The Prime Minister has better things to do than consort with traitors and spies," the man told me, his voice disapproving.
"Well, this was his idea then," I said, knowing it had to be. "You tell him I want to see him."
"I'm not used to taking orders from prisoners," he said.
"Just tell Sebastian to come down here, or I won't tell you anything. I'm sure he'll listen."
For a second, I was not sure what the man was going to do, but then he stood and nodded. A second later, a grim smile broke out on his face.
"He's coming down in half an hour. Well played, though. This is going to be fun."
He turned and left the same he had come. Once he had disappeared, the doors closed and the wall was once again a single sheet of metal. There was no way to open it from inside. After a minute or so, I leaned back and let out a sigh, more frightened now than before the man's visit. They knew who I was and had apparently intentionally captured me instead of just nabbing me alongside Captain Picard and Worf. They could do whatever they wanted with me down here in my cell. Wherever we were, I knew it had to be well hidden. I swallowed hard and prayed that Riker found me soon.
*
I stood up when the door opened again, more as an attempt to gain a little leverage than as any sign of respect for my guest. As he entered, I tugged down my blue shirt, trying to feel more ready for this.
The Prime Minister strode leisurely through the doorway, his black shoes padding softly on the metal floor. As Grey entered, I found myself staring at him. Although I was certain he was the same boy I had known as a child, I could find no resemblance beyond the black hair and green eyes. This man was tall, maybe six foot or a little under, while my childhood friend had always been on the short side. He was dressed in the same formal black he had worn when I had seen him over the viewscreen. This Grey was also sporting a neat, close-cut beard and a hint of a mustache. But I supposed seventeen years was a very long time, long enough to change someone beyond recognition.
"Miss Lawrence, I am Prime Minister Sebastian Grey," he said as the door closed behind him. The small room seemed to grow smaller as it did.
"I know who you are," I answered. "It's been a long time."
Grey nodded. "Eleven years since you left. Broke out is more accurate. You were in a maximum security facility, and you killed one of the supervisors there."
"Like I had a choice," I told him. I had done what the man had forced me to do and I had come to terms with my actions. "We both know what it's like in those 'facilities.' Now why don't we stop playing around and you tell me what you've kidnapped me for."
"Dominic was right, you are direct. Alright, we can get right to it if you like. But why don't we sit down first? We might as well be comfortable."
I raised my eyebrows and glanced around the cell. If he had wanted me comfortable, he would not have locked me in this cage. Nevertheless, I turned and took a seat in the armchair, leaving the bed to him. I wasn't scared anymore, not of Grey. I didn't harbor any delusions about some bond of friendship we still shared but neither could I bring myself to fear a man who I had known as an eleven-year-old boy who was terrified to leave home for the first time. And, to be honest, the man called Dominic scared me more than Grey did.
"I don't want you to think of yourself as a prisoner," Grey started out. "We did abduct you, but it was for your own good. I'm sure you'll understand after I explain."
"Explaining things truthfully has never been your strong suit, Sebastian," I said. It was true: Sebastian had been a frequent liar as a child. Even after I had known him for six years, I couldn't tell whether he was telling the truth. He had never used his talents against me, though, just the occasional parent or teacher.
Grey frowned. "Whatever research you've done must have shown that I've been very forthright during my time as Prime Minister. I'll be the same with you, Miss Lawrence," he promised, leaning forward on the bed as if he couldn't restrain his earnestness. "I don't know what the Federation has told you, but I can assure you that they are lies."
"Really?"
"Yes. Sandor has been struggling for decades, centuries, because of the Federation's constant refusal to share information and technology. We have been allocated the position of second-rate species in this Federation-run quadrant. We've been suffering for years!" He slammed his fist into his palm to emphasize his point and his expression was fierce, but the action seemed hollow. I remembered that he was a politician and had probably made this same, carefully manicured argument many times before.
"In recent years, Sandor has begun to prosper," Grey was now saying. "We have improved our ships and strengthened our economy by off-world mining. But as soon as we do, the Federation comes down on us, makes a major conflict out of a minor disagreement."
"You're refusing them access to their colony," I told Grey, finding it difficult to believe he could call that a 'minor disagreement.' "Thousands of people could die if they don't receive food and water soon."
"Only because the Federation still refuses to acknowledge our right to the wormhole!" Grey argued. "If they would promise payment, they would not even have to deliver, then we would let them use the wormhole. But they refuse to comply, refuse to accept that we have finally claimed what was rightfully ours."
"They were trying to negotiate!" I told Grey, completely astounded by what I was hearing. "They brought me, of all people, in all the way from Karos VII just because there was a chance I might get your attention! You cannot seriously believe that the Federation is ignoring you."
"The Federation is just trying to keep Sandor technologically and intellectually deprived so they can control us, like they do so many other planets. We won't listen to their ridiculous offers if they won't meet our requests." He paused for a breath. "The Federation has a surplus of everything we asked for; they have a duty to supply what we need."
"Yeah, that sounds like the boy who used to steal chalk because the school had so much," I snapped. "You haven't matured at all, you're just better at rationalizing it now."
Grey froze, hand stiff on his shirt where he had straightened it. "What?"
"What, you didn't think I forgot already, did you?" But now it was my turn to stare at him, mind working. He had said I'd been gone eleven years, not the seventeen since we had seen each other. When I had brought up explaining things, he had mentioned research I would have done, not knowing him personally. Slowly, the answer dawned on me. "You don't know who I am, do you?" I asked him.
"I've read your file," he said. "Most of it." He looked rattled, though, thrown off-kilter by my comment about the chalk. That made sense now. I doubted anyone else besides his teacher and parents knew about his childhood thieving, if it could even be called that.
"God, Sebastian!" I burst out. "You kidnap me and bring me here, and you don't even know who I am?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Grey said obstinately, regaining his composure with the speed of a politician. "And it's 'Prime Minister' or 'Mr. Grey,' if you please."
"2346, you meet a little girl in her secret spot by the stream and decide to share," I started. "Or early '47, you first convince her to steal chalk for you because you got caught so often and the two of you draw on the sidewalk. Or how about this? 2352, you tell her parents that she can turn into a bird! That ring any bells?"
Grey had stood up, his legs pressing back against the bed, his suddenly white face contrasting sharply with his stubble. His hands hung limp at his sides as he stared at me like he had seen a ghost.
"That's not possible," he whispered.
"Just how far back did that file go?" I asked, standing up. Like most people, he rose above me. "Come on, Sebastian, how many Tasha Lawrences do you know?"
"It's a common name!"
"Not that common!"
"But you're dead!"
That stopped me. "What?"
"You're dead!"
We stared at each other for a moment, neither able to continue. Finally, I broke the silence.
"You think I'm dead?"
Grey shook his head. "This is a trick," he said. "Someone put you up to this, one of my enemies."
"You think I'm dead?!" I repeated, louder this time.
"You were killed in 2354 after you tried to kill an officer! You were part of a shapeshifter organization trying to assassinate government officials."
I stared at the man, open-mouthed. Whatever I had expected to find upon meeting Prime Minister Sebastian Grey, it certainly had not been this.
"They told everyone I had been killed?" I asked.
"Tasha Lawrence was killed! I don't know who you are, but you are not the girl from Lenore."
"Do you really think I'm pretending to be someone else? For god's sake, Sebastian, why would anyone want to impersonate your childhood friend?!"
"The Federation. My enemies both here and off Sandor. Anyone could have hired you."
I passed my hand over my eyes, trying to stay calm. "I was thirteen in 2354," I said, focusing on what he had said about my death instead of the accusations against my identity, too stunned to get past the tale of my own murder. "Do you really think I was part of an anti-government group? Would a thirteen-year-old try to kill an officer?" My voice came out biting, sarcastic.
"Shapeshifters will do anything."
I couldn't take that. "The government will do anything! When I was eleven, I was locked in the attic by my own parents! When I was thirteen, men came and drug me off to a prison because they said I was dangerous. I spent five years there, being told over and over again how evil shapeshifting was, how dangerous I was! I happened to be born different than everyone else and that made me a criminal, not anything I did so don't you dare tell me I'm an imposter and don't you dare say shapeshifters are capable of anything!" I finished, breathless and red, my voice echoing back from the bare walls. "I don't know you anymore and I don't really want to, but do me the courtesy of believing that I am who I saw I am." I fell silent again, breathing heavily, glaring at Sebastian with all the anger I had felt toward this government.
"You're not dead."
"Not yet!" I responded tartly.
"No, they told me you were dead. I was at school in Beldon when I got a transmission saying you had been killed and not to ask about you anymore. I tried to find out what happened, but no one would talk to me."
I took a few deep breaths and clenched my fists, warring between continuing anger and catering to the shock now written across Grey's face. Finally, I let out a last breath and returned to my seat.
"Obviously, I didn't die," I said, voice level now and mildly regretting my outburst. Years of loneing it had made me unused to having to maintain relationships but I had been getting better over the past six months. "I stayed in the house until I was thirteen and then the government locked me in that compound for five more years. I guess they're still keeping it secret if they told everyone I was dead."
"Your parents had a funeral," Grey exclaimed before trailing off. "Tasha." I looked up at him, still standing, and found him staring down at me. "You're alive."
"Yes, I am," I said, repeating it for what seemed like the fourth time. "Wait, my parents had a funeral?"
"Yes. They incinerated your body at the old cemetery because they said they didn't want you buried."
Again, I was struck speechless, staring at Grey, who had finally sat down. Not only had my parents played along with my faked death, they had also made sure no one could ever discover that my casket had been empty. "So...I'm dead, then."
"Legally, yes. I checked the papers myself a few years ago once I got into politics, just to see. You've been dead for seventeen years." He shook his head, his eyes not leaving my face, as if believing that I would disappear again if he looked away.
"Did you miss me that much?" I asked, trying to lighten the situation even though I wasn't feeling so light myself. I had just found out my own parents had declared me dead.
Grey shook his head and then, as if realizing what he was saying 'no', stopped. "You just disappeared. I never knew what happened to you. I didn't know you were the Tasha Lawrence in the file."
I stiffened when I heard that, remembering why I was here in the first place. Chatting with Grey was all well and good but it did not change the fact that he had kidnapped me somehow and had locked me in this cage. Even if he did remember our friendship fondly, that was no guarantee that he would treat me well here and now.
The same thought must have crossed Grey's mind because he frowned suddenly. "If you're the one in the file, then you're the shapeshifter who broke out and killed that man."
My eyes narrowed without me realizing it. "I'm not ashamed of being a shapeshifter, Sebastian. I'm here because a friend asked me to come, not because I relished coming back to this prejudiced place. And I gave that man a chance, I told him to leave, but he came at me anyway."
"You're still a criminal." But Sebastian's voice had lost both it's persuasiveness of earlier and harshness of a few minutes ago. He seemed to be repeating a mantra to himself so he would believe it.
"My only crime was existing. I paid whatever debt I owe for that a long time ago."
"Then why did you come back?"
So we were back to this. "I have friends on the Enterprise," I told him truthfully. "They asked for my help and I couldn't tell them 'no.'" I let out a mocking laugh. "Kind of wish I had."
"So you're really helping them." Sebastian's voice held resignation.
I opened my mouth to respond but then closed it. I had come here to make contact with the government and maybe get them to negotiate or change their minds. Things hadn't gone exactly as planned but that didn't mean I couldn't still try. I couldn't have asked for a better opportunity than to plead my case one-on-one with my childhood friend turned Prime Minister.
"They're not bad people, Sebastian. They really want to talk with you, but they can't give you the weapons you're asking for, you know that. They have their whole Prime Directive thing. I don't get it, but they really believe in it and they won't change their minds."
"Then we were right to ignore them."
"What? No, Sebastian, listen to me! The Federation is not your enemy. Yes, they can be patronizing and maybe a little high and mighty at times, but they really are doing what they think is right. If you'd just talk to them, you'd see that." But I had already felt something shift in the room. Sebastian's eyes were harder, shielded again as they had been when he had entered. "I don't know what you did with Picard and Worf, but if you have them locked up here then they'll tell you the same thing I have. Just go talk to the Captain; that's all they want, anyway."
Sebastian stood as I finished speaking and I did the same, wishing the room was larger so I could put more space between us.
"This is going to be harder than I'd thought. The Federation has poisoned your mind against us."
"Don't be an idiot, Sebastian! You have to know that what you're saying makes no sense!"
"I'm the Prime Minister, Miss Lawrence. You don't call me an idiot."
He left me staring open-mouthed as he turned around and walked out of the magically reappeared door. It closed seamlessly behind him once more, leaving me suddenly alone.
"You arrogant fool!" I shouted, pounding on the metal wall with my fist. "You're going to destroy your entire planet because you're too pigheaded to even consider that you might be wrong!"
I could feel eyes watching me as I drug myself back to the armchair and sank into it, too angry to even try to hide my emotions. Whatever Sebastian was going to do next, it wasn't going to be good.