Author's Note: And here we are!
This is a retelling of Measure of a Man.
It is a part of The Complication series and I strongly encourage you to read that before starting this.
While not required, it does provide essential context in regard to Data's history with Bruce Maddox, Data's emotional state, and his established relationships with the rest of the crew – particularly Tasha, Geordi, Captain Picard, and Commander Riker.
You'll have a much richer experience by reading The Complication first.
To those that have been with this story since the start – my apologies for a bit of repetition.
As this a 'new' story, I suspect we'll have some readers that don't read The Complication. I've included some reference information to aid in understanding.
Measure of a Man is such a vital component of Data's story.
The Complication is retelling with some events occurring in a different sequence. This is set during TNG's first series. For reference, it's sandwiched between Haven and Coming of Age.
This particular instalment features a hefty dose of angst and drama.
With that said, please know that the ending is fluffy – quite fluffy. The reward is worth the turmoil.
There are good things on the horizon for Data, both in terms of his personal development and his relationship with Tasha.
Thank you for your continued support on this series.
Cheers,
Charlie
Data stepped into his lab and took a moment to survey the space.
There was a part of him that had never thought he would see this room again.
His most recent mission was supposed to have been a three-hour survey with Geordi.
It had very nearly cost them their lives.
The odds of survival had been slim.
Through an inexplicable miracle, they had been rescued from their icy prison. Data's rational mind told him that miracles were, in fact, simply a matter of fiction.
The correct sequence of events necessary to facilitate their rescue had occurred. A talented and inventive crew had solved the mystery of their disappearance and formulated a plan.
Data and Geordi's survival training had equipped them for the circumstances they had encountered.
And their own efforts to facilitate a rescue had been timed perfectly with the presence of a search team.
Those factors combined had allowed them to beat the odds.
But Data didn't even want to think about what might have happened had any one of those steps gone differently.
He stepped over to the safe storage locker along the wall and punched in his access code.
The door popped open. Data reached inside to retrieve the item he had come to check on.
While nothing had occurred to give him cause for alarm, Data had sought physical reassurance that this special package was safe.
He opened a tiny box so that he may lay his eyes on the ring contained inside – a ring specially crafted for a person that, like Data's rescue, was herself an anomaly.
A woman that was in so many ways the representation of Data's faith in the mysterious nature of the universe.
Because there were so many things that had to have gone right to bring them together.
Data's activation.
His extraordinary opportunity for freedom after suffering for more than a year as a captive of Bruce Maddox, locked away in the underground lab of Starfleet's Research and Development Cybernetics division.
Jean-Luc Picard's willingness to take a chance on an android officer.
Tasha's journey to Enterprise had been equally as tumultuous. Given the very circumstances of her birth, it was no small wonder she had lived past the age of five – let alone had managed to escape Turkana.
It was sheer dumb luck that she had caught the attention of Captain Picard.
Their unlikely friendship had paved the way for the complicated path to Farpoint.
And to Data.
Their relationship may have started off on a shaky foundation. But in the year they had been together, Data felt that Tasha's presence had so enriched his existence that it rivalled all the previous twenty-seven years of his activation in terms of impact.
Through being together, Data had come to realise his own value as a person.
His confidence had soared. He had rediscovered himself.
Tasha loved him unconditionally as he was and for who he was.
Because of that, Data didn't feel less-than for the first time in his existence.
He was comfortable in his own bioplast – comfortable enough to feel worthy of chasing his dreams.
And in a little more than twenty-four hours, Data was going to ask Tasha to help him fulfil one of those dreams.
Data closed the ring box and pocketed the object.
He wanted to pack it straight away before Tasha awoke.
As he strolled out of his lab, Data couldn't help but sing to himself.
"For once in my life I've got someone who needs me," Data crooned.
He rested his hand on his chest where the ring was safely contained in a pocket on the inside of his jumpsuit.
Like the lift he stepped onto, everything was looking up.
When he reached his quarters, Data tucked the ring into his luggage cylinder.
Just in time, too. Data thought as the door to his bedroom slid open.
Tasha emerged a moment later with a mighty yawn. She extended her arms and groaned as she stretched before wandering over to Data's workstation.
"Don't tell me you were up all night?" she said as she rubbed the crust from her eyes.
"I was up early," Data said.
Tasha yawned again and eyed him with scepticism.
"I had to check on something in my lab," Data said.
It was partially true.
"The project?" Tasha asked.
For the last few weeks Data had spent most of his free time locked away in his lab alone, utterly engrossed in a secret project.
Even Geordi had been in the dark on what it was.
Data had been working on a project, but it had nothing to do with his research.
After careful deliberation, Data had determined that he was going to make a ring for Tasha himself. Data had weighed a variety of cultural options before deciding on the traditional human ring as a symbol of matrimony.
Marriage was a problematic subject for Tasha.
In Turkanan tradition, marriage was forbidden. Tasha had a complicated relationship with the culture of her birth. While she didn't buy into the supernatural beliefs of her grandmother, there were facets of the old Turkanan ways that had influenced her decision making – even if subconsciously.
Years earlier during Tasha's stint on the USS Crazy Horse, she had fallen hard for a fellow officer. Like Data, Alfie O'Connor had been a gentle soul. A medical officer with a tender heart, Alfie had been patient and understanding when it came to Tasha's trauma.
For the first time, Tasha had felt safe, and she had agreed to get married.
He'd been killed before they could take those vows.
And it had shaken Tasha to her core.
Before Alfie's death, Tasha had been keen to reject Turkanan culture. She refused to buy into the belief system of her ancestors and had spurned the misgivings she had about her own behaviour.
The loss of Alfie had served as a spark – driving Tasha to a renewed sense of faith in those ancient beliefs.
Though she still didn't believe in the supernatural element of such a faith, Tasha did begin to actively practice the tenets of that faith – everything had a cost, a reverence for the celestial, and a firm belief that she had an obligation to protect others.
Along with that belief came the idea that marriage was forbidden.
For Tasha, this was both a matter of practicality and a spiritual sense of foreboding. She felt like Alfie's death had been a reminder from the universe that success came at a cost.
Tasha had escaped Turkana. She felt the price of that was a life of service dedicated to helping others. And that meant a lifetime of solitude.
Tasha felt she couldn't do her job effectively if she allowed herself to get too close to others. Attachment made it difficult to make the kind of choices necessary for a Tactical Chief.
Finding Data had been a fluke.
His persistence and empathy had pushed Tasha to confront this trauma. And through months of tenacity, the support of friends, and professional help from Deanna, Data and Tasha had worked through their own personal anxieties together.
A few weeks prior, Tasha had confessed to Data that she would have trouble saying no were he to pop the question.
Data wanted to honour her Turkanan tradition.
He was intending to ask her to make a commitment – but not in the sense of a traditional human marriage. He thought this seemed like a fair compromise.
Data had checked. Under Federation law, a Turkanan ceremony of commitment would be recognised the same as a marriage for legal purposes upon completion of a simple form.
Between the instability, the Civil War, and the nature of clan warfare, love was forbidden and rare on Turkana – and so often ended in tragedy.
Most relationships were a matter of practicality or clan expectations.
For those rare few that did choose to pursue an affair of the heart, their commitment to one another was made in a ritual known as the Ceangal Azurdorchaor "Dark Bond."
It was sealed with an act of coupling under moonlight so that only the moon knew the secret and paid homage to the notion that the forbidden marriage of two Turkanan deities had been witnessed by the moon deity.
The moon on Turkana was considered sacred.
And for those that practised the ancient religion, it was believed that making such a promise under the moon meant that, like the moon, their love would remain steadfast even in spite of the dangers Turkana presented – namely separation.
For most people, the Dark Bond was often the one and only time they would ever get to be together. It was frequently taken on the eve of leaving to join one of the rival factions or be traded into service for one of the clans.
But those threats couldn't touch Tasha now.
And Data's constant devotion had been the support she needed to overcome her fear of commitment.
Their relationship had provided the safety and security to let down her guard.
Data and Tasha wanted a future together and they had found a way to navigate their personal feelings and their responsibilities as officers.
Data's dream was to have a family someday whether biological, android, or otherwise.
He wanted Tasha to be a part of that.
A commitment to one another was a component of that dream. Data longed to experience the humanoid act of pledging their love.
And there were practical reasons for Data wanting a formalised commitment.
His legal status as a sentient being remained unresolved – a fact that had reared its ugly head six months prior during a disciplinary hearing in which Data and Tasha were brought up on charges for allegedly violating Regulation 1138.
Data recognised that a formalised commitment was necessary to starting that family.
He wanted to ensure that he had full parental rights to any offspring. Similarly, were they to have any android offspring, Data wanted to make certain that Tasha shared parental custody in case anything happened to him.
So once Tasha had made clear she wasn't opposed to the idea of some kind of formalised commitment, Data had decided to seize the moment.
Starbase 173 was by no means a romantic hotspot.
Data had arranged for private quarters on the base, and they offered a lovely view of the planet Hanwi and its three moons.
They were due to dock at 16:00 hours and it would take several hours for proper decontamination and clearance.
The senior officers had agreed to meet up in Commander Data's quarters for a spontaneous poker game before going their separate ways for the next three days on base.
Once the game was finished, Data was counting on a little help from Worf to convince Tasha to join him for a late-night trip to Starbase 173's ice rink.
The base featured a real ice rink off its Arboretum. Knowing how fond Tasha was of cold weather sports, Data had sought to incorporate the ice rink into his ask.
Captain Picard and Keiko had assisted in helping Data secure the ice rink. They would have it to themselves for three and half hours.
At that time of night, the Arboretum itself was directly bathed in moonlight from the second of the passing moons.
Data had also seen to the ambiance. There would be paper lanterns to light the ice and real hot chocolate with whisky for after courtesy of Guinan.
It was understated and nowhere near as elaborate as some of the ideas Data had considered.
But like their relationship, Data recognised they didn't need anything complicated or flashy – their best hours were spent snuggled up on the sofa sharing a box of sushi and trashy horror novel or a quiet, relaxing night in where Data could puff away at his pipe with Tasha stretched out across his lap skimming through the latest shinty scores and highlights.
Therefore, Data had opted to keep things minimalist.
There would be no marching band or rearranging the stars.
Best of all, Data had managed to keep the entire thing a secret. Well, a secret save for Geordi. Data had almost been irreparably damaged during their last mission. He had shared his information with Geordi and sworn him to secrecy.
Guinan, Keiko, and Captain Picard had no idea that Data was planning to pop the question – they assumed this was merely a celebration in honour of the anniversary of their relationship.
They had no inkling of what was to come.
And neither did Tasha.
As she stood there in his arms – hair askew, snuggled against him in her favourite old shirt with the curry stain – Data counted his blessings.
The rational side of his brain told him that things like fate, blessings, miracles were simply an illusion created by many humanoids. It was a belief shared across cultures in an attempt to provide hope and explain the strange nature of the cosmos.
Data's positronic brain reasoned that as an android he would forever be incapable of understanding the mystery of faith in miracles.
His metaphorical heart told him that he wasn't meant to.
"So you aren't going to be spending the next three days cooped up in your lab, are you?" Tasha asked.
"No," Data promised.
She had just gotten Data back after nearly losing him on the survey mission gone awry. Tasha had no intention of spending the next three days apart - not when they were supposed to be on leave.
"Then your project is done?" Tasha pressed.
"It is just getting started," Data said strangely.
"When can you get started?" Admiral Walsh asked.
"Soon," Bruce Maddox responded.
"How soon is 'soon'?" Walsh demanded.
Maddox sat back in his chair. He folded his hands over his knee and chuckled.
He knew that Admiral Walsh was eager for the results of his research. And Maddox owed him a debt of gratitude. It was thanks to the grace of the Admiral that Maddox had received authorisation to continue his research.
After the report went out about a second android, Admiral Walsh had jumped on the opportunity to use it against Data.
Lore was all the leverage he needed to convince Starfleet that Maddox's research was essential for the long-term success of Starfleet Security. Admiral Walsh had convinced the head of Starfleet Security that Lore posed an unprecedented threat.
Furthermore, Data's long and exemplary service record indicated that he could be a valuable asset.
To that end, Walsh had persuaded Starfleet Security that Bruce Maddox's research was critical. If they could create more androids like Data, then Starfleet would have a significant advantage.
By all accounts, Maddox's research was far from adequate. He was a brilliant cyberneticist – but a far cry from the likes of Doctor Noonian Soong.
Walsh didn't expect much from Maddox's research. If they managed to somehow learn how to replicate the process and create more androids – that was a bonus.
His real reason in being Maddox's benefactor was simply to see the android that plucky little Lieutenant pay for embarrassing the Admiral and ruining his grandson's career.
Months earlier, Admiral Walsh's grandson Drew had lost his Commission as an officer. He had been thrown out of Starfleet based on charges brought against him – led by Lieutenant Yar.
The hearing had been a humiliating experience. The subsequent investigation into Admiral Walsh and his team had been a further insult.
While Josiah Walsh had managed to retain his rank as Admiral and position within Starfleet, his sphere of influence had taken a significant blow as a result of the investigation.
Walsh needed something big to put himself back on top.
If Maddox's research panned out, it would be just the thing necessary. And if it failed – it mattered not. Data would be nothing more than a toaster and that Lieutenant Yar would finally be put in her place.
Walsh wanted Tasha to know what it felt like to lose everything – just like what she had done to his grandson.
"Admiral, I can assure you that once Data is returned to my possession, it's only a matter of time before you'll see results," Maddox assured him.
"Keep me apprised of your progress," Walsh ordered. "I want to know the minute it's done."
Without another word, the subspace channel disconnected.
Maddox turned and glanced out the window in his office and grinned. The Enterprise was docked and undergoing decontamination. It was only a matter of time before Maddox would be able to put his plan into motion.
On his way into the poker game, Data caught Worf's arm.
"Lieutenant, please," Data said, pulling Worf around the corner near his workstation.
"Sir?" Worf asked.
"I need your help," Data confessed.
"Anything, sir," Worf responded.
Data glanced around to ensure that they were alone. The rest of the senior officers were due to arrive any moment. Data leaned in close.
"May I ask you a favour? Of a personal nature?" Data inquired.
Worf quirked an eyebrow at Data.
"Would you please mention the ice rink on Starbase 173 during the poker game?" Data requested.
"And?" Worf prompted, expecting there to be more.
Data paused and thought for a moment.
"And perhaps express interest in ice skating?" Data suggested. "It has been some time since the two of you have been able to enjoy the activity. And I am hoping to take Lieutenant Yar tonight."
"Oh, of course," Worf assured him.
He didn't mean to sound insincere. Worf just pleasantly surprised by the simplicity of the request.
"Worf, this is a matter of great importance to me," Data said.
"Hold it, that's my chair!" Miles said, stopping Riker from taking a seat next to Data.
Riker stopped halfway down and slid into a chair one spot over.
"My luck is always lousy unless I start on the dealer's right," Miles said.
"That would seem to be superstition," Data remarked.
"Bitter experience has taught me," Miles said. "You, Data, are my lucky charm."
Data frowned.
"I love you like a brother, but don't worry. You're not a stone I'm about to kiss," Miles winked.
"I will," Tasha said.
She gave Data a quick peck on the top of his head before slipping his visor on.
"You left this at-" she stopped.
She had been about to say 'home.'
But Tasha had stopped herself. Her quarters were no more their 'home' than his. And it was still a bit of a tender subject between them.
Deanna had suggested weeks earlier that it would be a good step for Data and Tasha to move in together.
Officially.
That would mean one of them would have to give up their quarters.
They both had valid reasons for wanting to keep their own space. Tasha's quarters were larger and had a window. Data's quarters had his workstation and often enjoyed being able to sneak and read or punch in some theories whenever his mind required stimulation.
Tasha cleared her throat and slipped into the chair left of Data.
"Are we doing five card stud?" Riker asked.
Data began to shuffle the cards. His inhuman speed and precision meant that the cards nearly blurred as they flipped through his deft hands.
"The game is exceedingly simple. Fifty-two cards, twenty-one of which I will see," Data said. "There are only a limited number of winning combinations."
"There's more to this than just the cards, Data," Geordi said.
"Oh indeed," Data said in agreement.
Data was acutely aware that poker was a game of strategy. He had come to observe this from his fellow officers and was a keen player himself. Data had a number of natural advantages – even if Tasha insisted that he had a tell.
"Time to pluck a pigeon," Miles quipped.
Deanna started the betting and tossed her chips into the centre.
"I'm in," Geordi said as he joined the game.
"I too," Data agreed, adding his own chips to the pile.
He glanced across the table, hoping that Worf would add more than just his chips. Worf seemed to get the message.
"Me too," Worf said. "And I, uh, was wondering what everyone was planning to do on leave? Starbase 173 features a wonderful ice-skating rink."
Tasha's ears perked up.
"Really?" she asked in surprise.
Worf nodded.
"Yes," he replied quickly.
Worf and Data locked eyes.
"It is….fun?" Worf said, ending his statement as a question.
Data nodded eagerly.
"And would be a great place to visit on leave," Worf said slowly.
From across the table, Deanna watched the exchange with amusement. She could sense something was up. She just didn't know what.
But this was lost on Tasha.
Her mind was now completely filled with thoughts of gliding across the ice, the surge of confidence that accompanied landing a jump, and the lovely sense of being just pleasantly chilly on her face.
"Can we go?" Tasha asked suddenly, turning to Data.
She looked like a child asking to go see fireworks.
Data paused for less than a split second before responding. He wanted to remember this moment – the way her eyes lit up, the excitement of it all.
The fact that there was an even greater surprise in store made Data's metaphorical heart swell.
"I bet five," Beverly said, drawing his attention back to the game.
"Yes," Data answered Tasha.
He turned his attention back to the game.
"Counsellor, it is your turn," Data said.
Deanna grinned and set her cards down.
"I fold. I think I'd rather just watch this hand," Deanna said knowingly.
After more than a few hands, the team had received word that decontamination and docking inspection was complete. They were now cleared to disembark to Starbase 173.
With everyone eager to start shore leave, the senior officers bid one another goodnight.
It was almost 21:00 hours and Data had the ice rink booked from 21:00 until half past midnight.
On his way out the door, Worf gave Data a nod of encouragement.
He wasn't quite sure what Data had planned. Data had said it was a matter of importance and that was enough for Worf.
Wordlessly, he wished Data good luck with whatever was coming.
Tasha was just clearing the table when Data caught her wrist.
"Leave it," he said.
"It will just take a minute," Tasha said, shrugging him off with a smile.
She continued stacking the pint glasses and then brought them over to the replicator for reprocessing.
"Grab your skates," Data encouraged.
"In a second," Tasha said. "Just let me take these-"
She stopped as Data's fingers closed around her wrist. His other hand snaked around her waist as he stepped up behind her.
"Leave it," Data whispered against her ear.
Tasha stopped and turned around.
"Why are you so eager to go ice skating?" Tasha asked, eying him with a hefty dose of scepticism.
"I thought you would want to go," Data said innocently.
Tasha's eyes narrowed.
"We're not really going ice-skating, are we?" Tasha asked.
"I promise you that we are going ice-skating," Data said.
He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger longer than necessary as he tried to metaphorically bottle the feeling of that moment.
Data reached up to cup her face.
"Did you know that this Starbase is in the shadow of three moons?" Data asked softly.
Tasha hesitated to answer.
"Data, are you sure you want to go onto the Starbase?" Tasha asked.
She had been thinking about it ever since learning of the skating rink. Tasha felt guilty for asking about going to visit.
"He's here, Data," Tasha went on. "On this Starbase. Bruce Maddox."
She had looked it up months ago after first learning of Data's torment at the hands of Maddox. She wanted to know where he was so that she could keep Data safe.
Data was aware that Maddox was stationed at Starbase 173.
But he was free from Maddox.
He had been for nearly twenty years.
And Maddox had no power to touch him now. Not now that Data was a free person with a Commission in his own right.
Data wasn't going to permit Maddox's presence to prevent him from enjoying himself.
Data stroked his thumb across Tasha's cheek with a familiar fondness.
"I want to take you ice-skating in the moonlight," Data declared.
"Then what are you waiting for?" Tasha giggled.
Once they reached Tasha's quarters, it took Tasha less than five minutes to throw off her uniform and slip into her cold weather gear. She threw on a pair of warm, fuzzy socks and grabbed her ice skates.
"Let's go," she said as she threw them over her shoulder.
Hand-in-hand, Data and Tasha strolled through the corridor until they reached space dock on Deck 17. They would have to go through a brief Security sweep before being admitted and Deck 17 was likely to be less crowded than the other docks on Decks 3 and 11.
"Have you ever been ice-skating before?" Tasha asked.
"Once," Data answered honestly. "At the Academy."
"Well, I'll stay close til you find your feet," Tasha promised.
Data frowned.
"Tasha, my internal stabilisers are capable of compensating for the change in centre of gravity and more than capable of maintaining my balance at-" Data trailed off.
He suddenly realised that Tasha's statement was less about actually helping Data balance on the ice and more about playful banter.
"Yes, I believe that keeping you close will be for the best," Data said.
He glanced down and met her eyes.
Tasha flashed him one of her signature smiles.
"You will stay by my side?" Data asked.
"Right by you," Tasha assured him. "Always."
"Thank you," Picard nodded.
The waiter set down his cuppa Earl Grey on the table before turning back to the bar.
This was the first time Jean-Luc had ever set foot on Starbase 173. It was an older installation that had recently undergone a significant upgrade and expansion.
It was one of the only Starbases along the Neutral Zone that wasn't being closed – granted the expansion had been to add non-defensive additions.
There were new recreational facilities, an extended diplomatic contingent, and even a new JAG office.
Jean-Luc had to admit that this was one of the finer lounges he had seen. It nearly rivalled Ten Forward in terms of modern amenities.
"My God," Jean-Luc gasped.
A woman had strolled into the longue, stopping at the top of the stairs as she scanned the room. She had stepped straight out of Jean-Luc's past.
It had been nearly a decade, but Jean-Luc would recognise that woman anywhere. She had always had the power to command the attention of any space she graced with her presence.
He leapt out of his seat and abandoned his table.
"Phillipa Louvois," he said in disbelief.
He blinked as he tried not to register too much shock.
"Back in uniform," Picard said, astonished.
He was certain she had left Starfleet for a prominent diplomatic post with the Federation's legal intercessors office.
"My God, seeing you like this. It's been ten years, but it feels like yesterday," Jean-Luc smiled.
"Jean-Luc," Phillipa said.
She was wearing the same wry smile Jean-Luc had fallen for nearly a decade earlier.
"If we weren't around all these people, do you know what I would like to do?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Bust a chair across my teeth?" Phillipa quipped.
"After," Picard said.
He was giving her that look.
The same look he'd had a decade earlier after they'd shared a 2290 Loire Valley Cabernet Franc a sleeve of saltine crackers. He'd brought the wine, she'd brought the crummy saltines.
And he'd still given her that look.
"Ain't love wonderful?" Phillipa chuckled.