Adrift by QueensJenn
Summary: A Starfleet captain. A Romulan commander. Both hurt in different ways. Can they find healing in each other?

Picard/Tomalak
Geordi/Bochra.

Decidedly a bit silly, with some angsty moments thrown in just to catch you off guard :P
Categories: Next Generation, Expanded Universes Characters: La Forge, Geordi, Picard, Jean-Luc, Tomalak
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Friendship, Humor, Romance, Slash
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: Romulans for Romulus - Alternate Ending.
Chapters: 3 Completed: No Word count: 2871 Read: 6298 Published: 31 Oct 2011 Updated: 14 Dec 2011

Story Notes:
Oh my God I am so sorry for this. This pairing just popped into my head and would not get out.

(Follows the events in the new expanded universe - the Destiny series, etc)

1. Chapter 1 by QueensJenn

2. Chapter 2 by QueensJenn

3. Chapter 3 by QueensJenn

Chapter 1 by QueensJenn
The loud, obnoxious buzz of the communications terminal filled the dark room, waking everyone with its shrill alarm.

Or at least, it would have, had the sole occupant of said room been asleep.

Tomalak glared at it, wondering who would be trying to get in contact with him in the middle of the night. One month ago, such an occurence wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. But that was when...that had been...

Quickly he banished those thoughts from his mind.

The buzz did not stop, no matter how much concentrated hate he sent in its direction, so he unfolded himself from his position on the bed and sat down in front of it, snapping it on with more force than was probably necessary.

“What?” he all but growled.

The man on the other end recoiled from the unexpected hostility. “Commander,” he said cautiously, still using the old title even though Tomalak had not been a commander for several years now.

“Pontikanos?” he replied, wondering what his cousin could possibly want. They hadn’t spoken in years, not since Tomalak had left the Fleet for the Proconsul’s position.

“Listen to me,” Pontikanos said, a level of urgency in his voice that Tomalak had never heard before. “This is important. The sun is unstable. It’s going supernova.”

“You’re lying,” Tomalak snarled. “That’s impossible.”

“No it isn’t. You have to believe me. Administration wants it kept quiet so there’s not a panic, but I can’t just stand by. We’re family, whether you like it or not.”

He didn’t respond to that last statement. “How long?” he asked at last.

“A day. Maybe less. Take only what you need, and go. Just go. Get as far away from here as you can.”

“I...I understand,” he said, even though he really didn’t, not at all. “Thank...thank you.”

“Just go,” Pontikanos said, and ended the transmission.

For a few minutes, Tomalak just sat there, trying to process the information. Go. Just go. The sun will go supernova in less than a day. Everyone still on the planet will be killed.

And so what if I die? The thought flashed into his mind before he could stop it. I have nothing here. Life and death is the same to me now.

No. That was the coward’s way out. He may be a Broken, but he wouldn’t give up. Not just yet. She would not have wanted that for him.

The decision made, he snapped on the terminal again, calling an estate nearly half a world away. After a few minutes, the black and silver Raptor disappeared, to be replaced by a very dishevelled looking Bochra.

“Commander!” the younger man said, trying at once to snap to attention despite his still half-asleep state.

“Listen to me,” Tomalak said. “Gather only what you need. Wait for me at your house. I will explain when I get there. Do this quickly. I will be there within the hour.”

Bochra blinked, clearly wondering if the commander had finally snapped. “I don’t understand,” he tried.

“Just do as I say. There isn’t much time. If you aren’t there...then you will not survive.”

That got his attention. “Survive what?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there. Just be ready.”

***

Three quarters of an hour later, a black Talon-class flitter hummed to a stop outside the residence of Bochra tr’Raedan. The younger man was waiting, as his head of house had commanded, and quickly climbed in to the little vessel.

“Will you please tell me what is going on?” he said.

Tomalak ignored him, setting in the flightpath in the autopilot. The craft took off, heading for the outer atmosphere.

“The sun is going nova,” he said bluntly. “And no, I’m not lying.”

Bochra felt his face flush. “How many times have I told you not to read my mind?”

“Then don’t think so loud.”

Bochra had no answer to that. “How do you know this?” he asked.

“Pontikanos told me.”

“He hates you.”

“Yes, but his ship is a science vessel. If anyone would know what’s going on, it would be him. And he’s related to me, however distantly; he’s honour bound to at least tell me.”

“All right.” Bochra wasn’t going to argue with that. He may have been an honorary member of House Raedan, but the ways of born nobles were quite beyond his understanding. “So what’s your plan?”

“We’re going to get out of here. As fast as possible.”

“In this little thing?”

“No, of course not. We wouldn’t last three days.” The flitter set down on the orbiting spaceport. “We’re going to steal a ship.”

“Oh, of course. Have you gone insane?!

“No.” Tomalak exited the flitter, pulling up the hood of his jacket. “Keep your head down. Don’t look suspicious.”

They walked in silence along the outer rim of the port, where the visiting ships were docked. Bochra watched as Tomalak hesitated before each airlock, telepathically ‘listening’ for any signs of life inside.

“This one,” he said at last.

“And how are we supposed to get in?” Bochra asked, but almost before the question was out of his mouth, Tomalak had keyed in a number of commands to the controls next to the door. The airlock opened obediently.

“The office of Proconsul has its privileges,” he answered Bochra’s unasked question. “Is it really my fault if I just happened to remember the override codes?”

Stop reading my mind, Bochra thought in annoyance. Tomalak just smirked. He took his place at the nav console, flicking several switches to turn on the main interface.

“It’ll do,” he said. “It’s not in particularly good repair. Hopefully it will just get us to the nearest colony world.”

***

They’d been flying for nearly eighteen hours when the shockwave hit. The little craft bounced around, the cabin lights dimming and the finally flickering out completely. By the time it was finally over, the life support fans were humming weakly and the nav console was barely lit.

The two Romulans looked at each other, neither saying a word. Neither needed to.

That was our world, the look said. Everything we have ever known is gone.

Tomalak was the first to break the silence as he turned his attention back to the nav board. He swore.

“Nav’s out,” he said grimly. “And that shockwave sent us way off course. I...I have no idea where we are.”

Bochra cursed. Now what? We’ve escaped Romulus only to perish in the depths of space.

“We aren’t going to perish,” Tomalak responded. “Someone will come. The comm’s still working. I’ll start the distress call.”

“Stop reading my mind,” Bochra mumbled tiredly.

Chapter 2 by QueensJenn
“How long has it been?”

“Twenty hours.”

“How long do we have left?”

“Another eight, if we’re lucky.”

Bochra leaned back in the chair and sighed. The little craft was falling apart more and more as the hours went on. First the electrical failed completely. The backup generators kicked in, but they both knew it wouldn’t last for long.

The air was getting thinner. The scrubbers were doing their job, at least, but they couldn’t add more oxygen to the air, and the two Romulans were fairly sure the onboard oxygen tanks were just about depleted.

“Did you ever think it would end this way?” Bochra asked.

“No,” Tomalak answered honestly. “Or at least, I never figured I’d be alive to see it.”

“Mm.”

Silence for another little while.

“You know...I’m almost a little glad this happened,” Tomalak mused.

Bochra gaped at him.

“At least it neatly takes care of the mess that was the Praetorship and the Senate. No doubt they’ll set something up on another world, eventually, but nothing...nothing could ever rival the complete and utter chaos that was those last few months.”

“You were involved with that,” Bochra offered warily. “Quite heavily, as I recall.”

Tomalak laughed without any real humour. “Yes. And then Tal’Aura died, and the new one, Kamemor...she knew I was a Broken. I don’t think Tal’Aura knew, but somehow, Kamemor did. And well...you know what that means.”

“I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“I almost killed her, you know,” Tomalak said after a few minutes. He didn’t know why he was saying this, other than it didn’t seem to matter anymore. In a few more hours they’d be dead.

“Who? Kamemor?”

“No. Tal’Aura. Just after Donatra died. I had her Honour Blade, and I was going to kill Tal’Aura...I wanted to read her thoughts as she died. Every ounce of fear and despair. Make her feel what Donatra had.”

“You would have been killed by the guards.”

“That was the point.”

“Oh. Then why didn’t you?”

He paused. “I don’t know. Something just made me stop, at the last moment.”

“Fate?”

“No.”

“The Elements?”

He scoffed. “Definitely not. Who believes in that garbage anymore anyway?”

“I do.”

“Oh.” He did not apologize.

“At least you knew who to be angry at,” Bochra said. “For years...I blamed myself for Patahk’s death. I was the pilot. I was the one that made the error and crashed, and nearly got us both killed. He trusted me. I was the pilot.

“Two together, leader and led. One like the needle, the other, the thread,” he said softly, repeating the childhood rhyme. “But the thread died, and the needle broke.”

“If you are to blame, then I share some of that blame,” Tomalak said. “If I had not let Picard stand in my way...I should have destroyed him when he informed me your bondmate had died.”

“It would have done no good,” Bochra said. “Just like it would have done no good if you had killed Tal’Aura. Doesn’t bring anyone back to life. Just perpetuates the killing and hate cycle.”

“When’d you get so smart?” This was nothing like the bloodthirsty young Centurion who had once served aboard the Decius, until his mate had died, at least.

Bochra shrugged. “You have a lot of time to think, when you’re a Broken. Not like there’s a lot else you can do.”
“No, I suppose not...”

Silence again.

“Anything on the scanners?” Bochra asked at last. It was unnecessary; they would know at once if anything showed up. But it was better than the awkward silence that had descended over the little craft. Talking about personal issues always did that. It was one of the reasons he made a point of never discussing personal issues.

“No.”

“Can’t you just use your telepathy or something?” Bochra asked, frustrated.

Tomalak just gave him a look, wordless asking him if he was, in fact, that stupid.

Before Bochra could answer and at least try to defend himself, the sensor monitor went off with a shrill alarm.

“Something incoming,” Tomalak said. “Something big.”

“Something friendly?” Bochra said hopefully.

Tomalak swore as he saw just what was approaching. “Friendly?” he laughed without any humour. “No. Not at all.”
Chapter 3 by QueensJenn
“Klingon Vor’cha class cruiser, not far out and getting closer,” Tomalak reported calmly.

Instantly the two snapped back into old habits. Imperial military training was hard to forget, no matter how long it had been since one had last served.

“Can they see us?” Bochra asked.

“If we can see them, they can see us. They don’t seem to have picked up on us yet - maybe they think we’re a piece of debris.”

But even as he said that, the great ship changed course, heading for them.

“All right, scratch that,” Tomalak said. He scanned the nav board.

“We’re passing through a solar system,” he said, pointing to the board. “The third planet is M class. Can you get us down there safely?”

Bochra looked doubtful. “I...I haven’t flown in years...not since...Patahk died...in this little ship...we’ll probably be killed on entry into the atmo!”

“If you can’t do it, we will be captured by Klingons and we will most definitely be killed. I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer ‘probable death’ than a ‘most certain, messy, painful death.’ Don’t you?”

When he put it that way, Bochra had to agree. “I’ll do it. I’ll have to divert all power to the shields.”

The little craft shuddered as it changed course, heading for the nearby planet. The Klingon ship followed them, gaining until it was almost on top of them.

“They're powering up disruptors,” Tomalak said. “Any time you want to take us down...”

“Going in,” Bochra said. “Hang on.”

The entry was...unpleasant, to say the least. Several times it seemed that Bochra’s prediction would be right, and they were going to burst apart and burn up. But the craft held together and punched through the atmosphere into the cold, grey skies of the planet. It seemed that they were out of danger.

And then the engines gave out.

The craft began to plummet, and this time it seemed that they would surely die. But Bochra was not called one of the best pilots of his generation for nothing; he managed to use the momentum of the fall to catch the wind under the wing-like protrusions on the hull and slow the descent. At the very last second, he pulled up hard on the throttle.

It helped, but nothing was going to save the little ship. It plowed into the ground, gashing the earth for a good 1/4 mile. Finally it skidded to a stop, mangled wreckage that was barely recognizable as having once been a spacecraft, and everything was still.

* *

Tomalak opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh light of the gray sky. All things considered, that hadn’t gone as bad as it could have. It wasn’t a great situation, of course - now they were stuck on a planet with no way out, very few supplies and possibly hostile natives, but they were still alive, which was something. Being alive meant that there was still a possibility to turn the situation around to one’s advantage.

He concentrated for a moment, seeking out the thread of thought that would answer his burning question. After a moment, he found it. Bochra was alive, though likely still unconscious. The thread was strong, meaning that the other man was close by - probably on the other side of the broken hull that bisected the crash site.

He pushed himself up, fighting back a wave of dizziness and nausea. He didn’t know what had hit him hard enough to knock him out, but whatever it was, it had been sharp. Blood trickled down his face and he wiped it away.

The emergency transmitter was lying just out of reach. He tried to stand, and hissed with pain. Fractured hip, if he wasn’t mistaken. He leaned forward as far as he could without jostling his leg and just managed to swipe it close enough that he could pick it up.

Surprisingly, it still had a fair amount of power left in it, and he felt some annoyance that he hadn’t thought of using it first, rather than the hardwired transmitter. Ah well, clearly it had been for the best that they hadn’t. He turned it on and set it to transmit on all channels, except the ones he knew that Klingon ships used. Evidently they’d managed to shake off the battleship by disappearing into the atmosphere, but he wasn’t going to take the chance that it was still lying in wait somewhere, scanning for distress signals.

A small flutter at the edge of his consciousness told him that Bochra was also waking up. He closed his eyes and waited for the flutter to bloom fully into awareness.

It didn’t.

He dragged himself to his feet, bracing himself against the wreckage to avoid putting too much weight on his bad leg. Following the thread of thought, he found the younger man lying just around the other side, a heavy beam collapsed across him.

He limped closer to his fallen companion, and with strength born of desperation, managed to lift the wreckage and move it off him.

Even with the debris gone, Tomalak could tell Bochra as not in any better condition. He dropped awkwardly to his knees and felt for a pulse. Faint and slow. No blood - internal injuries, then. He felt his hope fade away. Unless a miracle happened, there was no way Bochra could survive this.

Killed another one, eh Deathwing?

“Shut up,” he murmured, sitting back against the wrecked hull as the wind howled.

Tomalak was not one to be helpless. He was a (former) Fleet Commander, the head of a (formerly) noble house, a powerful telepath, a master tactician. There was no situation he’d ever been unable to get out of, by one means or another.

Until now. They were stuck on a death planet, and Bochra was going to die. And there wasn’t one damn thing he could do about it.
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