The Sands of Time (A Star Trek: The Next Generation Fan Fiction)

Chapter Six

"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.