“Thicker than Water, But Cold as the Grave” – Complete / Final Revised Version

If you don’t know by now that Paramount owns Star Trek, that this is unofficial, and that I’m not making a dime on it, you must be from another planet.

Warning: If you have not seen the episodes “Skin of Evil” and “Legacy,” the story will still make sense, but you won’t get the references.

--

"Ishawa, are you mommy?"

It was a simple question, but Ishara Yar would have rather faced a raid than answer it. How do you tell a three-year-old that he doesn't have a mommy? Mikel didn't even have a last name, at least not one that anyone knew. But, as he looked up at her with his deep blue eyes, full of intrigue and longing, with an innocence that no one got to keep for long on their chaotic planet, she had to tell him something. Softly, she whispered, "No, I'm not old enough. But, I wish I was your mommy."

Mikel continued to question, "Is Natasha mommy? She's old."

Natasha couldn't help but overhear that teenagers were "old." She smiled the kind of peaceful smile that she rarely got to have. This time, she tried to answer, "No, you don't have a mommy at all. She's gone to Heaven. But, Ishara and I are your family."

Natasha couldn’t help but question her own sincerity. His mother’s probably gone to Hell, not Heaven, if there are such places, but I certainly can’t tell him that. Rather than make matters worse with the truth, she continued, "We'll always keep you safe. Ishara will love you like mommy, and even though I'm a girl, I'll protect you like a daddy."

"Swear?"

"I swear, Mikel," Natasha assured him, "We'll never let anything happen to you."

Mikel seemed satisfied. At least, he didn't ask any more questions, as they continued silently towards the city square.

It was a beautiful afternoon, not because it was spring, but because they had enough money to buy food. They wouldn't have to scrounge today. Natasha really didn't want to know what Ishara had done to get that money; she knew better than to ask.

"So," Ishara grinned at Mikel, "What do you want for your special birthday treat?"

Mikel couldn't have ice cream or cake like children on earth do, but he didn't know what those things were anyway. In fact, it was rare for Mikel to get a treat, so he thought about it for a while.

Before he could answer, a man stepped out from behind a dumpster and grabbed Mikel by the arm. The man violently slammed the little boy’s body to the ground. Mikel let out a sound that was half-cough and half-scream, as his breath was knocked out of him. Natasha and Ishara wanted to do something, but several other men came out of the alleyway. The girls just stood there, while the men tossed Mikel around, kicking and stomping, like they were making grapes into wine.

“ISHAWA! NATASHA! ohhuhh,” came the screaming and moaning. The names were running together into one, “Natashashawa,” and becoming entangled with the sounds of agony. He was nothing more than prey to the Hunters, a band of former Alliance members who had broken-off when their leaders refused to allow them to kill for sport.

Ishara was 10-years-old and as healthy as any child on Turkana IV could be. Yet, she was no taller than most 7-year-olds, due to malnutrition as a toddler. She was clearly no match for the grown men who were beating Mikel. The most she could do was push her stringy, matted, light-brown hair away from her eyes, so that her older sister could see the pleading and desperation in her usually hollow gaze. She sounded almost as if she were the one dying as she rasped, “Mikel.” She was too weak with sudden grief to manage much more.

Natasha was more than a head taller than her sister and much stronger. Yet, she was still no match for the Hunters. Natasha’s sister looked up to her and relied on her, but this time the respect was undeserved. There was nothing she could do.

Mikel had stopped screaming, but the Hunters were still kicking him. It had gotten to the point where dying was no longer the worst thing that could happen. Still being alive after a beating like this would be much worse. His body was broken in so many places that it lay in a tangled pile, rather than a discernible position. As if by some miracle, or sheer will to survive as long as possible, his chest was still fluttering with the rattling and bubbling of his last breath.

Just as he was about to exhale for the final time, Tasha woke up.

--

Lt. Tasha Yar’s sheets felt damp and sticky from her own perspiration. She tried to tell herself that the Enterprise wasn’t exactly known for breathable linens, but she knew that wasn’t the cause. She was grateful that no one was around to see her, the tough security chief, frightened by a nightmare.

However, this nightmare had once been a reality. It was the day that Mikel had died, less than five minutes after she promised to keep him safe.

From that day forward, she had heard him screaming for her every time someone spoke the name “Natasha.” Within a week of his death, she couldn’t bear to be called that any more. She shortened her name to "Tasha." No one had referred to her as “Natasha” from the time that she was a teenager, until she met Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

He not only called her by her first name, instead of the full name on his roster, he mispronounced it. He called her “Natasha” with “ash” at the heart of it. She had almost corrected him, but she stopped herself, not because he was the captain, but because she liked it. The “ash” sound was as if he was shushing her, telling her to be calm and quiet. His entire personality seemed to whisper that everything would be okay.

She hadn’t realized how much she wanted that, until she received it. She needed care and compassion from someone who could quiet her, like a father calms a child with a skinned knee, like she had once been able to quiet Mikel.

Sometimes it was hard for Tasha to let go of the past. There were days when she’d stand at her station and stare at the tactical sensors, anticipating danger at any moment. Even off-duty she’d listen closely, expecting the red alert klaxons to overshadow her next breath. She’d been safe for longer than she had ever expected to be safe. A part of her never expected it to last. She was always on guard, ready to protect those that she cared about, even if it kept her from pursuing her gentler desires. That defensive part of her understood why her sister had joined the cadre. That part of her didn’t blame her sister for the rift between them.

When they were little, Tasha had taken care of Ishara, taught her how to survive, where to find food, and how to avoid the rape gangs. Without Tasha’s help, Ishara wouldn’t have been able to take Mikel in or provide for him. To Ishara, her sister had been a super-heroine. When Tasha was helpless to save Mikel, Ishara’s idol had shattered.

After Mikel died, Ishara started to notice how easily Tasha backed down. Their survival had come from avoiding the dangers of Turkana IV, not resisting them. It never occurred to Ishara that Tasha’s trepidation was what had kept them alive. All she saw was her sister backing down from one bully after another, running from the gangs, and hiding in the shadows. After a few months, Ishara decided to join the Coalition and fight for her life, rather than begging for her survival.

When Tasha asked Ishara to leave Turkana IV with her, she refused. To Ishara, it was as if Tasha was allowing Turkana to suffer, while she needed her sister’s help to overcome the odds.

That was how what was left of Tasha’s family died; she lost Mikel to death, and her sister to bitterness. Tasha always told Ishara that blood was thicker than water. She just never realized that, like water, Ishara’s blood could turn cold, colder than fear, colder than hate, as cold as Mikel’s grave.

Lt. Tasha Yar couldn't allow herself dwell on her memories any longer. She needed to rest and to focus if she was going to protect the crew of the Enterprise. They were her family now, and they deserved the same dedication she had given Ishara and Mikel. The only difference was, this time, she was going to succeed. This time, she was determined to keep them safe.

Tasha rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, yet her mind was filled with hopeless desires. She wanted her sister back. She wished that she could have done something to save Mikel. She wished that she could have seen him grow up.

But, most of all, she wished that no one else would ever have to die a senseless death, as Mikel did, at the will of a murderer or murderers who killed as a demonstration of their own power, for the sake of their own entertainment.

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