Author's Note: Thank you all for your ongoing support with this series.

Some elements from this chapter reference events in The Case. If you haven't read it – I highly recommend it!

If you don't want to read it, then please understand that The Case is my retelling of Measure of a Man (ie: Bruce Maddox). Just as in the original source material, the court eventually rules in Data's favour.

Unlike the show, there are some additional things that happen with that: Data and Tasha become engaged, Data is granted full Federation citizenship, and Tasha is presented with an interesting job opportunity.

This particular arc for "The Suit" is a three-parter. I just couldn't condense it all into one!

And now - onto part two:


"You know it's really not fair restricting us to quarters," Riker grumbled. "See? We can be out and about without causing any problems."

"Lieutenant Hawk may disagree with you on that point," Tasha said.

Worf muttered something under his breath.

"I do not enjoy being stuck in my quarters either," Worf chimed in.

"It's like I've got all this energy to burn and nowhere to go," Riker lamented.

"Keiko lent me her zen garden. Thought it would help," Miles said.

"And did it?" Tasha asked.

Miles shook his head and took a swig from his pint glass.

"Broke the little rake first time I picked it up," Miles confessed. "I've got a lot of making up to do when we get out of this."

His eyes suddenly went wide with fear.

"If we ever get out of this," Miles added.

"Oh I'm sure Data and Geordi will think of something," Tasha said with an air of confidence.

Worf quirked an eyebrow in Tasha's direction, and she quickly dropped her gaze to her plate.

"Oh?" Worf pressed.

Tasha shrugged as she poked at her plate.

"Do you know something?" Miles asked. "Are they close?"

"I just know he's working hard," Tasha said, desperate to end any further inquiries.

"You seemed pretty confident a moment ago," Riker observed.

Tasha's face flushed with embarrassment. Under pressure, she was effortless cool. She could hold her composure on the Bridge, during hostage negotiates, and didn't even break a sweat during interrogations.

But the second her relationship with Data became the subject of the topic of conversation Tasha couldn't help but get flustered.

"He's personally motivated to solve this particular crisis," Tasha said without looking up.

Tasha's cheeks were burning.

"T," Riker said with a knowing smile.

"Well it's bad enough being stuck in this suit, trapped in our rooms and we can't even run around the holodeck or-" Tasha began to say.

"Roll around in bed," Riker offered.

Tasha stopped and groaned. Her shoulders slumped.

"Right," she sighed.

"Amen to that," Miles said, raising his glass.

After a soft 'clink' the four friends downed the last of their latest round. The concern about wetting the suit again had long since passed. Ever since the first incident, the nanocytes had adapted. Now they were taking care of that particular problem.

They still didn't know how or why.

They were just grateful for it.

"You know I could go for another round of the BBQ sweet potato," Miles said, eyeing the buffet table along the wall.

"How was the snapper?" Riker inquired.

Worf brought his fingers to his lips and kissed them, signalling his approval.

There was already a large stack of plates in the centre of the table, and they'd finished off the entire supply of pineapple shrimp skewers.

Guinan was happy to feed them – but growing concerned.

"Should I grill up another tray of the chicken curry?" one of her staff inquired.

"Yeah," Guinan agreed as she observed their table. "Better throw on the mushrooms and the last tray of beef and onion."

She shook her head in amazement as Miles tipped back his head and used his finger to drop the entire contents of a cheeseburger flavoured kebab into his eager mouth in one fell swoop.


Down in the lab, Data and Geordi were still hard at work. Geordi had been ignoring the rumble in his neglected stomach for hours.

"What are missing?" Geordi pondered aloud.

Data's brow furrowed. He stopped typing and turned toward Geordi.

"Missing?" Data inquired as he scanned the lab.

They had adequate computers with the functionality to simulate a variety of experiments. There were programmes to calculate the odds of success, replicate possible solutions, and test theories. All research known to Federation sources was at their fingertips – including that from the Vulcan Science Academy and the Daystrom Institute.

"Geordi, I believe that any equipment necessary can be found-"

"I mean us," Geordi clarified. "We've tested soundwaves, UV light, infrared, low level particle beam emitters. We can't burn it off, freeze it off, or cut it off."

He audibly exhaled and clutched his forehead.

"We're missing something," Geordi said.

"Correct," Data agreed. "A solution."

Geordi frowned.

"Not funny," he said with a small smirk.

He knew Data was just trying to lift his spirits.

"Any luck with the graviton waves?" Geordi asked.

Data's expression shifted slightly as he raised his eyebrows.

"They were irradiated in the simulation," Data reported.

"What about the amplified high energy pulse from the acoustics lab?" Geordi asked, snapping his fingers like he was onto something.

"Liquified their skeletons," Data reminded him.

A small noise of displeasure escaped from Geordi's throat.

"That would be a problem," Geordi remarked.

"Indeed," Data agreed.

In spite of their 'do not disturb' warning, the door to the lab chimed.

"What now?" Geordi grumbled.

Reg Barclay poked his head inside.

"Evening," he said.

Geordi was about to tell him off for ignoring the sign when he spotted the tray in Reg's hands.

"I w-wanted to check in and figured you hadn't e-eaten," Reg said.

"That is very thoughtful," Data said.

Truly it was. As frustrated as Geordi had initially been at an interruption, he couldn't deny that he was grateful for the gesture.

He sniffed the air with delight, his taste buds watering at the smell of dinner.

It wasn't any special – just some sandwiches from the canteen. But to Geordi, it smelled like heaven.

"T-there's a variety there," Reg said as he handed over the tray. "Wasn't sure what you liked."

"Reg, it could be dry toast for all I care at this point. I'm starving," Geordi said as he dove into a mouthful of pickle and cheese.

He groaned obscenely as he flashed Reg a thumbs up of approval.

Barclay relaxed.

"Did you read my proposal?" he inquired.

In accordance with Geordi's request, Reg had typed up the proposal into a summarised report and fired it off to his inbox.

"Not yet," Geordi confessed.

In truth, he'd only skimmed through his inbox.

"But I promise I will," Geordi assured him. "We're just pursuing a few other options right now."

A part of him felt bad. They had nothing. It wasn't that Geordi had anything against Reg personally, he just knew this wasn't really his area of expertise.

Time was of the essence. And Geordi didn't want to waste any precious time reviewing a proposal that was unlikely to lead to a solution.

"Oh, right," Reg nodded. "I'm sure you're busy."

Geordi nodded as he chewed on his dinner.

"Anything I could help with?" Reg offered.

It was the second time he'd extended his help.

And it was the second time Geordi had turned him down.

"I appreciate it, I really do," Geordi answered in earnest. "And this was great, Reg. I mean it. We just need to keep working. I promise I'll check out your proposal though. Tonight."

"O-okay," Reg said.

With a small nod he turned to go.

Reg stopped just shy of the door.

"I-I-I'm usually up late," Reg said. "If you need me."

"Thanks, Reg," Geordi said. "We'll let you know."

As soon as the door shut, Geordi could feel Data staring at him.

"What?" Geordi asked.

"We do not have anything," Data said. "Perhaps it would be worth glancing at his suggestion?"

"He's a diagnostic engineer that specialises in holographic applications. And I'll give him credit for being creative," Geordi replied. "But we're not going to find a solution for this on a holodeck."


Up in his Ready Room, Jean-Luc was enjoying the musical stylings of Rubenstein with a glass of a Château Picard '43 cab.

He was reclining back in his seat with his eyes closed as he followed along with the tempo of the piece.

As it built toward his favourite crescendo, there was an alert on his computer.

"Incoming hail. Priority One. From Captain Donald Varley, USS Yamato," the computer announced.

Priority One? Jean-Luc thought.

"Computer cease playback," Picard ordered.

He immediately put his glass down and sat up.

Jean-Luc cleared his throat and tapped his computer screen in order to open the channel on his end.

The screen came to life and Jean-Luc was greeted by the familiar face of his old friend.

"Jean-Luc," Varley said.

"Donald," Picard nodded.

"I wish this was a social call," Varley said darkly.

Varley was the best of the best – a man rarely rattled when under pressure. It was part of why the Yamato was the Galaxy-class ship assigned to patrol the area around the Neutral Zone.

"What's happened?" Picard inquired.

It wasn't like Varley to break a sweat, but there was worry etched on his brow.

"As you know we've been monitoring communication frequencies around Ghar el-Melh," Varley said.

Jean-Luc was familiar with the colony. It was an unincorporated moon that had long been a haven for people that lived their lives on the fringes of society.

It included the weird and the wonderful, bounty hunters, Acamarian gatherers, and plenty of petty criminals fleeing from Federation planets.

It was also home to more dangerous groups like black-market profiteers, mercenaries from the Moran Te'Val Syndicate, assassins, and a handful of deposed tyrants.

Starfleet had long suspected that various enemies (including the Cardassians, Romulans, and the Breen) had an established presence on the planet.

"We've been tracking the movements of a suspected Romulan cell for the last few months," Varley shared. "In recent weeks we've intercepted a series of interesting messages."

Jean-Luc shifted in his seat.

"From what we've gathered and been able to decode, they've been mapping areas for a possible outpost," Varley explained.

"And this involves the Enterprise how?" Jean-Luc prompted.

"Because three days ago a Romulan Skua-class scout ship disappeared along with three members of this cell," Varley informed him. "And they took an interesting list of supplies with them including a transceivers, power coils, an integrated circuit board they purchased off a Breen dealer."

"They're building a subspace communications outpost," Picard realised.

Varley nodded.

If the Romulans had found a location for a subspace communications outpost they could easily construct the array and then cloak it. It would likely never be found again by Federation scans once cloaked.

"Their last known message originated in the Sarpedian sector," Varley shared.

It was less than a day from where the Enterprise was presently located.

"My team is putting together a list of likely locations based on what we've deciphered so far," Varley said. "We'll send it over shortly."

Captain Picard closed his eyes.

A Romulan outpost in the Alpha quadrant was too great a threat to ignore.

"Is Starfleet Command aware of this?" Picard asked.

"I've been sending them updates for months," Varley said. "And I'm pretty sure they go straight from my mouth into the bin."

Jean-Luc frowned.

"No one is listening," Varley remarked. "They're all convinced peace is on the horizon. I can tell you from what we're hearing out here, the Romulans are hoping for anything but."

Jean-Luc had read the reports. The Vulcan ambassador T'Pel was assured that formal diplomatic relations were coming, and that peace negotiations would follow.

"You know what needs to happen," Varley said.

"Send me the list. We'll investigate," Picard replied.

Varley scowled.

"Jean-Luc, I don't need to remind you-"

"The Enterprise will investigate," Picard repeated. "I will make no promises beyond that."

The last thing he wanted to do was start a diplomatic incident.


"Slàinte!" Tasha said.

"Cheers lads," Miles said.

"IwlIj jachjaj," Worf added.

"Here's to getting naked as soon as I get out of this damned suit," Riker said, joining the toast.

"Here, here!" Miles cheered, banging the table as they all threw their heads back to down their drinks.

The drinks were flowing fast and going down easy. Guinan had no idea how they weren't sick from all the food they'd packed away – but the gang had carried on as if nothing had happened.

In unison, they slammed their empty glasses down on the table.

"I'll go," Worf said, offering to grab the next round of drinks from the bar.

He carefully carried their empty glasses back and gently set them down on the surface. Worf had already broken one pint glass and had no plans to relieve that experience.

"Are you all feeling alright?" Guinan asked.

"Never better," Worf responded.

It was true. Worf had never felt so strong or self-assured in all of his life.

Though if he were being honest, he was feeling a bit stir-crazy. Their spontaneous trip to Ten Forward had kept the fire in check – but it was still there, burning inside of him and longing to break free.

He wanted to run on the holodeck, pilot a shuttle at a high speed, jump from something high.

Guinan returned a moment later with four fresh pints of ale.

Worf made to pick the first one up and it shattered beneath his grip.

"I am so sorry," Worf apologised.

"It's alright," Guinan assured him as she went to grab a rag.

There was a chortle of laughter from halfway down the bar. A young group of young Nausicaans were whispering to one another about Worf.

They were onboard as privately hired security for a Bolian diplomat that was using the Enterprise to travel from Starbase 173 to the USS Berlin – which the Enterprise was expected to rendezvous with in a few weeks' time.

Apparently they found Worf's situation highly entertaining.

And they weren't nearly as subtle as they thought.

"Can you blame him? He's all bicep and no brain," one of them said, choking back a laugh.

Worf's hand involuntarily closed around another pint glass. It cracked beneath his grip.

Tasha was on her feet in a moment.

She knew these guys were trouble. Worf and Tasha had already responded to two incidents involving them in the last week.

And there was a long history between Nausicaans and Klingons in general.

"He must have something in that big ugly head. He is in Starfleet," one of them quipped.

"That's not saying much. All you have to do is sign your name," another one added. "They'll take anybody."

"Then how's he here? He can't read," another chimed in.

They threw back their heads and roared with laughter.

"Is there a problem here?" Tasha asked, approaching the group.

Worf had no doubt that she would have done so with or without the suit.

"Must a human woman defend you, Klingon?" one of the Nausicaans asked.

"I believe it is time for you to return to your quarters," Worf suggested.

The Nausicaans simply laughed in response.

One of them stepped forward and began to sniff at the air.

"He reeks of fear. Just like a Klingon," he said.

Worf's fists clenched in anger, but he bit his tongue.

"Come," Worf said to Tasha. "It will do no good to start a fight with such P'takhs. They are not worth the trouble."

"Run along Klingon," the first Nausicaan said.

Worf and Tasha made to go when one of the Nausicaans reached for Tasha's arm.

"You stay," he said. "We're more fun than him."

Tasha knew she could easily throw him off, but she didn't want to start an incident. Tasha always sought a diplomatic solution if possible. Furthermore, she didn't trust her own strength.

"Yeah sweetheart, what are you drinking tonight?" another one asked.

"I'm in the mood for you to remove your hand," Tasha said with a smile.

"Do you gentlemen need an escort back to your quarters?" Riker said as he approached the group.

"Stay out of this pretty boy," one of the Nausicaans warned.

"Oi! The Commander asked you a question," Miles said, chiming in.

The lead Nausicaan's shoulders shook with laughter as Miles stepped over.

"Short and tubby wants to join the party," he announced.

Miles's face scrunched up with anger. Instinctively he made to roll up his sleeves and muttered angrily when his hands met the suit instead.

He hated anything that came with sleeves that couldn't be rolled up to the elbow.

"Gentlemen, I think it's time for you to leave," Tasha warned.

"Why don't you show us back to your quarters, honey? I'm sure we'd all be willing to go," one of the Nausicaans remarked.

Most of them were laughing, but one of the Nausicaans made a show of looking disgusted.

"Ew! I'm not sleeping with anything that's touched a Klingon," he teased.

He leaned forward and Tasha stiffened as he ran his nose over her neck.

"She's still got that stench of that Klingon-" he began to say.

He stopped as Worf's arm shot out and gripped his neck.

The Nausicaan holding Tasha's arm made to pull her toward them, but Tasha's hand closed over his own.

"I wouldn't," she cautioned, squeezing his arm so tight he yelped with pain.

"Listen cupcake, I think we got off on the wrong foot," said the Nausicaan Tasha was holding.

He was speaking through gritted teeth due to the pain.

Tasha tightened her grip on his hand. She wasn't using the full force of her grip – she feared it would shatter his hand.

Work grinned and picked the Nausicaan up by the neck. Riker hissed as he watched the man's feet dangling above the carpet.

"Whoa! Hey, let him go," Riker said.

They were already on thin ice by breaking the Captain's orders. Sneaking out was one thing – instigating a fight was another.

Worf glanced over at Riker and then back to the Nausicaan that was struggling against Worf's hand on his windpipe.

"No," Worf declared. "Not this time."

"Worf, that's an order," Riker said.

But it was too late, Miles was already rolling around in fisticuffs with the Nausicaan that had called him 'tubby.'

"In for a penny," Riker shrugged as he dove at the nearest Nausicaan.


The only sound in the room was the small hum and bubbling air from the filtration system in Livingston's fish tank that sat in the corner.

Worf, Tasha, Riker, and Miles were sitting in front of Captain Picard's desk.

For the last two minutes they had sat in silence under Captain Picard's gaze. Rarely was he a man lost for words – but the notion that four of his officers, senior officers no less, had instigated a brawl in Ten Forward had left Jean-Luc truly and utterly speechless.

"Sir, if I may-" Tasha began, the first to find her voice.

"No you may not," Jean-Luc snapped.

Tasha closed her mouth and dropped her gaze to the carpet.

"A brawl," Jean-Luc spat.

"More like a scuffle," Riker said, hoping to downplay the event.

"More like a blowout. They didn't know what hit 'em," Miles said brightly.

Jean-Luc sat utterly flabbergasted as Miles and Worf high-fived one another.

"We're sorry, sir," Riker said.

"I would hope so," Picard replied. "I know these suits have altered your brain chemistry. But I didn't know they were turning you lot into a disorderly bunch of feral baboons!"

Tasha squeezed her eyes shut as she considered the Captain's words.

A part of her knew that the brawl was wrong. But another part of her couldn't shake that it had been fun. She didn't understand what the big deal was. It was like she couldn't comprehend the seriousness of their actions – even if somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind were screaming this was a problem.

"Now, can one of you explain what you were doing in Ten Forward?" Picard demanded.

"We were hungry, sir," Miles said.

"Very hungry," Worf added.

"After Tasha got a bit of crumpet from Data she was feeling a ravenous and oof-" Riker groaned as Tasha's arm shot out and backhanded him right in the gut.

The chair broke underneath of him from the force.

While the suit protected him from any damage – it didn't stop him from experiencing the impact of it.

Jean-Luc threw his head back and sighed in exasperation.

"I don't know what to do with you," Picard barked. "And you aren't giving me options!"

He leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk.

"You are behaving irresponsibly," Picard said.

"Well that's me told," Miles remarked sarcastically.

The vein in Jean-Luc's temple was visibly pulsating.

"You leave me no choice," Picard declared. "I am ordering you confined to the guest quarters on-"

"It's so lonely!" Riker protested.

"Then it is a good thing you will be stuck together," Picard replied. "I don't have enough officers to spare to put you all under guard separately. So you will share the guest quarters on deck four."

Tasha frowned.

Not enough officers? She thought.

"Where you will remain under guard until further notice," Picard explained. "And so help me, if you pull another stunt I will have no choice but to move you four to the Brig."

They fell silent.

The full weight of their situation was finally beginning to become clear. They had crossed the line.

"Sir, I'd like to apologise and if we could just discuss-" Riker tried to say.

"I have far more pressing issues to deal with than your preference for takeaway," Picard spat, cutting him off.

It was obvious to everyone that Jean-Luc was furious.

"Now then, a Security team is waiting outside to escort you down," Picard announced. "Lieutenant Yar, Lieutenant Worf, please stay behind."

As soon as the door shut, Jean-Luc got up and strolled over to his window. Tasha and Worf exchanged a glance.

"What happened?" Tasha inquired.

"I need to ask your opinion on something," Picard said.

He returned to his desk. Jean-Luc tapped the computer screen to pull up the list provided by the Yamato of possible locations for the Romulan subspace communications outpost.

Picard turned the screen around to display it to Worf and Tasha.

"What is this for?" Tasha asked.

"This is a list of planets and moons in the Sarpedian sector," Picard replied.

Tasha made a face.

"We know that. But what is it for?" Tasha pressed.

Jean-Luc ignored her question.

"As much as I wish there were someone else onboard I could turn to right now, I need to rely on your expertise," Picard said in a terse tone. "Of the locations listed, which is the most likely spot for a smuggler to use?"

Worf's eyes narrowed.

"Petruman," Worf answered immediately.

Tasha nodded in agreement.

"The atmospheric interference would make it impossible for sensors to detect from space," Tasha said.

"And it is subject to frequent sandstorms on the surface," Worf added. "It would make it easy to hide."

Satisfied with their answer, they both glanced up at the Captain expectantly.

"Assume our smugglers need to stay in contact with the outside world. Subspace communications," Picard said.

Worf and Tasha shrugged at one another.

"Shuttle," Tasha said simply.

"Back and forth as needed," Worf said.

"I'd risk the storms over discovery," Tasha finished for him.

Jean-Luc closed his eyes and prayed for patience.

"Assume I'm a smuggler that doesn't have a shuttle," Jean-Luc said, pleading with them for a better answer.

He knew he couldn't say 'Romulan'. The moment he did, Worf and Tasha would want to be on the Bridge and there would be no keeping them confined.

"You would need a shuttle to get down to the surface of Petruman," Worf said.

"Yeah, a freighter would be too large to enter the atmosphere and even a pod launch wouldn't survive entry," Tasha said.

They jumped as Jean-Luc slammed his hands down on the surface of the table.

"Forget Petruman," Picard said, his mouth tight.

Jean-Luc took a breath and tugged down his uniform to compose himself.

"Um, Tridia VI has similar environmental conditions that…well, it's not important," Tasha trailed off as she spied the Captain's thin lips.

"I want to know which of these locations is the most likely target for setting up a small outpost. Something you'd want to keep hidden, but where subspace communication is possible," Jean-Luc instructed.

"It may help if you were to give us more specific parameters of what you're looking for?" Worf suggested.

"If you could tell us the circumstances of who is responsible then maybe we could give you a more-" Tasha stopped.

"Pick a planet," Jean-Luc said.

He wanted to narrow the list as much as possible and was counting on them to help with that task. Jean-Luc feared that if they were detected that the Romulans would scrap the whole idea and move on somewhere else – somewhere where they didn't have the advantage of such information.

This was their only opportunity to seize them, and time was of the essence.

"Here," Tasha said, pointing to the screen.

"Or Optrica IV," Worf suggested. "It's remote."

Tasha nodded.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Tesseriin wouldn't be a bad choice either."

"Thank you," Picard said, turning the computer back so they couldn't look any further.

"Sir?" Tasha inquired.

"Lieutenant Olivet will escort you out," Picard announced.

"Sir, is there something we should be aware of?" Tasha pressed.

"If we are needed on the Bridge," Worf started to say.

"Not at this time," Picard said, cutting him off.

Worf and Tasha could both sense the Captain was withholding information. And Jean-Luc knew they were aware.

But he couldn't risk telling them – not when their judgement was already compromised.

"And for what it's worth, I am ordering you to cooperate," Picard said.


The entire walk down to the guest quarters had been silent. Captain Picard had stationed two Security officers outside of the door – Lieutenants Olivet and Yang.

They were two of Tasha's finest officers and from the look on Lieutenant Olivet's face, Tasha could tell she was none too pleased with the assignment.

"I'm sorry," Tasha said when they reached their destination.

"Goodnight, sir," Olivet said.

She wanted to be understanding. But Lieutenant Olivet was already under strain at home with three-year-old son struggling to cope with the fact one mum was on assignment halfway across the galaxy.

Tasha knew bedtimes were a challenge and felt awful for further contributing to the problem due to her own lack of judgement.

"So?" Riker asked as soon as the door closed.

He'd been itching for information.

"What did the Captain want?" Miles inquired.

"Something's up," Tasha shared.

"Though he was reluctant not to give any identifying information," Worf added.

"Too bad none of us can read minds," Riker grumbled.

Miles gasped.

"Chief?" Tasha asked.

"We may not be able to read minds – but we can read," Miles said.

There was a maniacal twinkle in his eyes as he surveyed the group.

Riker blinked in confusion. Tasha shrugged, gesturing for Miles to elaborate.

"Yes," Worf said slowly, not following Miles's train of thought.

Miles made a beeline for the computer that was built into the wall.

"Chief?" Riker asked, concerned.

"I can access the incoming communications logs from here. We should be able to determine if there were any incoming messages from Starfleet Command," Miles said. "And your Security codes should grant us access to anything that's not classified."

"Now why didn't we think of that?" Riker asked.

The rest of the gang rushed over to join Miles at the computer.

"Filter the search to only scan for messages in the last six hours," Tasha advised.

She'd checked her messages around then. If there had been anything involving a Security-related bulletin, she would have been informed.

"Eliminate anything marked as C2FAF-180/199 and GB-SC1800," Tasha instructed.

Messages sent on those frequencies were general messages transmitted and cleared as personal between different individuals. GB-SC1800 referred to general bulletins issued by Starfleet Command – things like public updates from the Cardassian front, Federation news, open job postings, and newsletter-type information for the general public of Starfleet personnel.

"Wait," Worf said, ordering Miles to stop.

S2S-100.

"That's a ship-to-ship Priority One message," Worf said.

Miles tapped to highlight the properties of the transmission.

Tasha took up the task of interpreting for the group.

"G23 as an origination code means this came from another Galaxy-class ship," Tasha shared. "And DV-120-403. That's got to be Captain Varley."

"The Yamato," Riker realised.

Tasha nodded.

"They are patrolling the Neutral Zone. One of the last ships left," Riker commented.

Worf grumbled.

"Romulans," he scowled.

They did not get a chance to explore this theory.

The door slid open, and Keiko stepped inside with an overnight bag for Miles.

It was already odd that the four of them were huddled around the computer. As soon as Keiko entered, they jumped apart only adding to her suspicion that they were up to something.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyeing the group.

There was a lengthy pause.

"Music," Miles lied.

Riker nodded eagerly.

Keiko made a face and glanced around the room.

"I don't hear anything," she noticed.

"Yeah," Tasha smiled. "We just can't decide."

She shrugged.

"We all just have such different tastes," she said, hoping to play it off.

It was a pathetic excuse and Keiko could see right through it. Doctor Crusher had warned the suits were altering their behaviour – but this was such an obvious attempt to cover up whatever they had really been doing that Keiko couldn't ignore it.

"But you all go to the same concerts at Ten Aft," Keiko countered.

"I just go to meet people," Riker lied.

"We like to support Luis and his band," Tasha offered.

Luis was one of the Security officers that played in a local band. They were quite good and even Data had eventually come to see the appeal.

Keiko turned her attention to Miles. He felt small under her gaze.

"I like the beer," he squeaked.


"I'm really worried about you!" Keiko said.

"And I don't know how many more times I can say this," Miles replied. "I. AM. FINE."

They'd been having a private discussion in one of the bedrooms for the last fifteen minutes.

And such a private discussion meant raised voices carrying out into the main room where Worf, Tasha, and Commander Riker sat still as they awkwardly waited in silence for the argument to end.

Worf had his eyes closed and was resting his head on the back of the sofa.

Riker was drumming on his stomach in an effort to try and occupy his mind with something else.

For her part, Tasha was counting the number of leaves on the Vulcan Gaiganberry plant that sat in the corner of the room.

She'd tried Gaiganberries once as part of a Vulcan breakfast porridge. They were tart (which Tasha enjoyed) but not particularly juicy.

In fact, like most Vulcan food, Tasha had found them to be a bit of a disappointment.

But as she stared at the plant, Tasha couldn't help thinking about eating the berries. She was famished – even after their meal down in Ten Forward.

The door the guest quarters slid open, and Tasha's face lit up as she spied a familiar shadow on the carpet.

"Good evening," Data announced.

"NO I WILL NOT BRING YOU YOUR BEER HELMET UP HERE TO EXPEDITE DRINKING CHOWDER!" Keiko fumed.

"IT'S ERGONOMICAL!" Miles shouted.

Data glanced over at the closed door and then back to the group.

"Hey," Tasha said with a small smile.

Her smile faltered as she met Data's eyes.

Before Tasha could say anything, Miles and Keiko stepped out into the main room.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Miles said brightly, hoping to smooth things over.

"Stay here," Keiko pleaded. "Listen to the Captain. Please."

She turned to Data and nodded stiffly.

"Data," Keiko said, greeting him.

"See, Data's not mad," Miles said, gesturing to Data.

Only Tasha knew that wasn't true. She could practically feel the anger radiating off of him.

"Miles, sometimes you have such an uncanny ability to see only what you want," Keiko replied.

Miles moved in to give her a peck on the cheek, but Keiko shot it down with a look.

"Goodnight," she said.

"Night, sweetheart," Miles said.

"And good luck," Keiko added to Data on her way out the door.

"Captain Picard has requested I work in here this evening," Data announced.

He was the closest thing they had to match their increased speed and strength – perhaps the only thing on the ship that could truly stop them.

Tasha perked up at this news.

"I will set up out here," Data explained.

He put a case down on the table. I contained a portable computer terminal that would allow Data to keep working through the night.

"Lieutenant Yar, may I speak with you privately?" Data requested.

Lieutenant Yar.

He might as well have called her 'crewman.'

It was Tasha's turn in the hotseat, and everyone could sense Data's frustration. Tasha rose silently from her seat and followed Data in the bedroom.

Data said nothing as Tasha took a seat on the surface of the desk.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"I hope what I have brought is acceptable," Data said, handing over her Parrises Squares bag.

Tasha unzipped the duffle and bit her lip.

Data had packed her favourite t-shirt and a pair of his drawstring sleep trousers.

"I was uncertain about the sleeping arrangements and figured you would be uncomfortable sharing a space with your fellow officers in your typical sleep attire," Data said.

Usually Tasha slept in standard-issue Starfleet shorts. She liked to be cold at night. It helped her sleep better.

"Thank you," Tasha said.

Her face broke out into a grin.

"I just wish I could wear it," Tasha giggled.

The suit prevented her from slipping into something more comfortable.

"Oh right," Data said, suddenly feeling bad. "I did not mean to further remind you of this unpleasant situation."

She felt just awful.

"It's great you're here. Do you want to pick up where we left off on Radioactive Gorn From Planet 51?" Tasha inquired.

She was thrilled. In spite of their predicament, they would still get to spend time together.

Data did not immediately respond.

"Data?" Tasha prompted softly.

"I am not here socially," Data explained. "I am here to work, observe, and ensure you abide by Captain Picard's orders."

Tasha smiled.

"Right. At least we still get to be together and-" Tasha started to say.

"Tasha, I do not want to be together," Data confessed.

Tasha froze.

Her throat grew tight as she tried to process Data's statement. For his part, Data could see Tasha thinking it over.

"I do not want to spend time with you right now. Not under the current circumstances," Data clarified.

He dropped his gaze to the floor.

"I am feeling…" Data paused as he searched for the right words.

He'd been struggling to identify his feelings all afternoon. Focused wholly on his work, it had been easy for Data to put off having to think about it. But the incident in Ten Forward had forced Data to confront the matter.

"I am feeling disappointed," Data settled on.

He lifted his head to meet Tasha's eyes.

"That feels ten times worse than being angry," Tasha remarked.

Data nodded in agreement.

It did.

It hurt. Data felt betrayed. His chest cavity ached. While Data recognised it was not entirely Tasha's fault, he couldn't shake the emotions that came with the experience.

He was hurt.

Tasha's choice to go to Ten Forward was a direct contradiction to Data's request that she stay in her quarters. Worst of all, her eagerness to brawl with Nausicaans was just the latest string in a series of decisions to put herself at risk.

"I almost wish you were just mad at me," Tasha admitted. "That would be easier to handle. For both of us, I think."

"We sought counselling because we both recognised that my concern for your personal safety is at odds with your disregard for-" Data began to say.

"Athletic endeavours-" Tasha interjected.

Data made a face – not one of anger. Rather, it was one of dismay and distress. For the first time that Tasha could recall, Data looked fatigued.

"You described it in counselling as a disregard for your own wellbeing. Recognised self-neglect. Adrenaline-seeking used as an unhealthy coping mechanism," Data said. "Please do not attempt to downplay it now."

Tasha bit her lip. Data was right.

Data stepped forward and took hold of Tasha's hand.

"We agreed to make a commitment together, a commitment that was built on a mutual promise to take care of one another and ourselves," Data reminded her.

Data was improving his own self-care routine and prioritising his needs and desires above that of his work responsibilities. It had taken time to deprogramme himself that just because he could operate with little to now rest didn't mean he should.

Data was learning to eat and sleep, to find enjoyment in rest, and to explore his dream programme.

He was asserting himself more and had grown more comfortable in his own bioplast.

And for the first time in his existence, Data was no longer afraid that humans would disassemble him simply for standing up for himself.

It wasn't just because of the recent ruling in his favour.

Data had someone standing behind him. He was no longer alone.

For her part, Tasha had agreed to work with Deanna on finding better coping mechanisms for her complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Data didn't expect her to stop playing Parrises Squares or give up sparring with Worf.

He just didn't want her injuring herself because she overlooked her own safety just to chase a thrill. He didn't want Tasha substituting healing with the high that came from pushing herself too hard.

"In the last twelve hours you have started a brawl with Nausicaan delegates, disobeyed a direct order, broken two promises to me," Data went.

"You're right, Data. And I'm excusing what I've done but the suit-"

"All of this stems from your choice to try this suit because you wanted the excitement of jumping off that platform. Of trying something risky and new," Data said.

Data's face darkened.

"I cannot help but wonder if your feelings about our shared goal have changed," Data sighed.

"No," Tasha assured him quickly. "No, no, Data."

"Am I not important to you?" Data asked tentatively. "And are you not important to yourself?"

Tasha didn't know what to say in response.

Words didn't seem adequate enough. They would never be sufficient to assure Data – not after betraying his trust.

When she did not answer, Data assumed that Tasha had to think on her answer.

"Perhaps we should discuss this at another time?" Data suggested with an air of finality.

He moved to step away, but Tasha squeezed his hand as she urged him to remain.

"Data, I lied to you," Tasha said.

Data stopped and cocked his head to the side.

Tasha took a shaky breath, blowing air out through her lips as she prepared to do something she had dreaded.

"Data, when we were on Starbase 173," Tasha stopped.

An exasperated sound of pain escaped from her lips.

"After your hearing, Captain Louvois didn't want to see me to wrap up court business," Tasha explained.

It was evident this was difficult for Tasha to talk about.

"Starfleet is opening an extension office programme for the JAG service," Tasha said with a grimace. "I didn't tell you because I-"

She paused and stared straight at Data.

"I wasn't ready to walk away from this job," Tasha shared. "I love my job. I love what I do."

In every respect, it was Tasha's dream. She was serving as fourth in command of the Federation Flagship doing something that was both rewarding and mentally stimulating.

"I could finish the training in a year. I wouldn't be stationed on the Enterprise, but we'd probably still see each other most weeks," Tasha said.

She had checked into the programme and posting options following graduation.

"Two-thirds of the year we'd be together," Tasha added.

Given the nature of their role, travel was a frequent feature in the life of a JAG officer. All JAG officers operated out of one of the numerous offices on Starbases and Federation planets.

But Tasha could still register the Enterprise as her home if Data and Tasha were sharing quarters. And it would be relatively easy to see one another given the flexibility a JAG appointment would offer.

"It would be a lot more stable in terms of starting a family," Tasha said.

Data was feeling an uncomfortable mix of emotion in response to this news.

Data understood that Tasha had reservations about the JAG programme. She was obviously not happy, and Data couldn't blame her – it wasn't what she wanted.

But Data also couldn't shake the notion that such a change would be a welcome relief. It would come at the cost of sacrificing some of their time together. Though it came with more stability. Tasha wouldn't be dodging disruptor fire or going on away missions.

It was a confusing experience for Data as he tried to wrap his brain around this revelation.

A part of him was overjoyed. Another part of Data felt selfish.

Tasha looked miserable.

"I'm sorry. As soon as we're back in my quarters I will submit the application," Tasha promised. "We can do it together."

Data was at a loss for words.

"You would give up your career to-" he trailed off.

"To prioritise us," Tasha finished for him. "You're right. I know you're right. I just wasn't ready to admit it."

They both knew the odds. There were only three ways Security Officers left. The smart ones moved into other roles like shifting to Command or cushy civilian consulting positions.

The ones that were lucky enough to survive every scrape, training accident, and battle were typically forced into retirement or wound up on desk jobs at Starfleet Command.

The others left in a box.

"You would do this?" Data asked.

He desperately needed confirmation. As much as it warmed his heart, Data was afraid Tasha was making a decision for all the wrong reasons.

Tasha nodded.

"It's time," she said with feigned certainty.

Her face fell.

"What is it?" Tasha asked.

Data hesitated.

"I do not wish to downplay this gesture. But I am still feeling… upset," Data shared.

"It's alright. You have every right to feel that way," Tasha acknowledged. "Sometimes when you're angry about something or feel betrayed it can take time."

"I would like us to discuss this at our next counselling session," Data said.

"Of course," Tasha agreed.

She smiled.

"Do you want to take a break and read together for a bit before you go back to work?" she offered, hoping to patch things up.

"I am… not feeling up to it," Data answered. "And I would prefer to continue working."


The team was not relieved when Data and Tasha emerged. Data was far too stiff, and Tasha looked uneasy.

While Data set up his equipment, the other four tried to work out their sleeping arrangements.

The guest quarters had two bedrooms and there was a sofa in the main quarters.

"I can kip down anywhere," Miles offered.

Throughout his career in Starfleet, he'd learned to sleep in hammocks and tight sleep pods, tents, cosy corners, and even the occasional Jefferies tube.

"I'll stay out here," Tasha offered.

It would give her a chance to keep Data company – even if he was working. And she suspected Data would be relieved to keep an eye on her overnight.

From across the room, the two exchanged a brief glance.

"Well Chief, looks like you've got your choice of bunking down with Worf-" Riker offered.

"Who snores," Tasha chimed in.

"Or me," Riker said, beaming.

Worf didn't wait for a response.

"I will sleep on the left side of the bed," Worf announced. "Please replicate an additional blanket for yourself. I do not like to share."

"Oh, I-I don't want to," Miles stammered. "I'll just bunk down with Commander Riker."

Worf quirked an eyebrow at Miles and then left to claim one of the bedrooms.

Tasha coughed to cover a laugh.

"What?" Miles asked.

"I should warn you, I sleep nude," Riker said.

He glanced down at the suit that had adhered to his body.

"Well, sort of," Riker laughed.


"Lieutenant Hawk, lay in a course adjustment to these coordinates," Picard ordered. "Once we pass the Cresdian asteroid field, slow to maximum impulse and wake me."

"Sir?" Hawk inquired, prompting the Captain to elaborate.

It was a strange diversion from their route to rendezvous with the USS Berlin. Such adjustments happened from time to time. In most cases, they were short trips to investigate something scientific, collect samples, or catch a rare astronomical phenomenon.

Other times such diversions were to offer relief efforts, medical care, or rescue in the event of natural disasters or assist a fellow ship.

But there had been no requests made from any of the scientific departments and the Enterprise had not received any recent transmissions requesting assistance.

"Wake me when we pass the asteroid field," Picard repeated.

"Aye, sir," Hawk responded.

It wasn't like Picard to keep anything from the staff. As one of the primary Night Watch Commanders, Hawk was usually one of the first to be brought into the loop when situations arose.

In fact, the last time that Captain Picard had kept his crew in the dark had been during the incident in which Picard had been overtaken by a mysterious energy entity.

Given all the strange experiments happening with the Engineering and Science departments as part of the evaluation period, Hawk was concerned.

He tapped his combadge.

"Bridge to Commander Data," Hawk said.


"Data here," Data responded. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

With Commander Riker out of commission, Data was next in the chain of command.

"Sir, I've been asked to make an adjustment to our course," Hawk reported. "Captain wants to take us in through the Cresdian asteroid field to the other side of the Sarpedian sector."

"Yes, Lieutenant," Data responded. "How may I assist?"

There was a slight pause.

"Sir, seeing as how Commander Riker is temporarily off duty and you're the next in command-" Hawk began to explain.

"Understood," Data interjected. "Captain Picard's judgement has not been impacted by the situation involving the tests on the holodeck. Please proceed with his orders."

Up on the Bridge, Lieutenant Hawk was much alleviated.

"And Lieutenant, thank you for having the wherewithal to check," Data added.

Over on the sofa, Tasha smiled.

Anyone that thought Data didn't understand the human equation had never seen him interact with the staff. Data knew exactly how to treat people with respect, offer gratitude, and encourage the officers that served under him.

While Data returned to his work, Tasha was on her tablet.

"You are not nearly as subtle as you think," Data teased.

Tasha looked up and shrugged innocently.

Wordlessly, Data conveyed his suspicions about the fact she was still awake.

"What are you up to?" Data asked.

"Shinty scores," Tasha replied. "It's Tuesday."

Data looked unconvinced.

"Finglas played Kirkcaldy," Tasha added. "I have to have something to razz Chief with in the morning."

Data nodded slowly and turned his attention back to his work. He didn't quite buy Tasha's excuse. But she was in his line of sight and couldn't go far.

At the very least, she was limited in the amount of trouble she could start.

As soon as Data stopped observing her, Tasha turned back to her tablet.

She was staring at a star chart of the sector as she ran through the locations that she could recall from Captain Picard's list.

Based on the assumption that the Yamato had contacted them to investigate possible Romulan activity, Tasha was re-evaluating the answer she'd given Captain Picard.

The Romulan connection put a whole new spin on the situation.

The Sarpedian sector had any number of possible hiding spots. Captain Picard's limited information had implied that communications were important.

A subspace comms station? Tasha considered.

They couldn't permit the Romulans to establish another foothold in the Alpha Quadrant. There were already too many snake holes out there.

Captain Rixx's warning from months earlier about a possible Romulan conspiracy was front and centre in Tasha's mind.

As she studied the star chart and contemplated just what the Romulans might be up to, Tasha's eyelids began to grow heavy.

Before long, she fell asleep clutching her tablet close to her chest.

Data was halfway through coding another simulation when he noticed the change in her breathing.

He got up from his station at the table and silently padded across the carpet.

She was curled up on the sofa under the window. Though still in the suit, Data was relieved to see the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each slow breath.

He carefully slipped the tablet out from under her arm. Data didn't mean to snoop, but he could see she had been reading an informational report about Dalmeade, a planet that was in the sector.

Data clicked to turn off the device and set it down on the ledge above.

Then he pulled the blanket up over her shoulder. He leaned over and pressed such a soft kiss to her forehead that it would have been nearly imperceptible to a human.

"Goodnight," Data whispered.

He remained motionless for a few seconds as he watched her. She always looked so peaceful in her sleep.


Data's eyes went wide as he watched Tasha eat breakfast.

She always looked like a chipmunk whenever she was eating one of her favourites. Normally Tasha didn't get so excited over oatmeal.

But she was positively giddy as she shovelled it into her mouth.

And she wasn't the only one.

Riker, Worf, and Miles were right there with her.

In fact, they'd been eating for nearly forty minutes. And while that wasn't in and of itself strange to spend that time sharing a meal with friends – it was when all they were doing was eating.

There was almost no chatter.

They'd already gone through a family-sized bowl of fruit. Worf had polished off enough bacon to feed an entire department.

And Commander Riker had eaten so many eggs, Data had tapped into Wesley's biometric sensor readings in order to check his heart rate.

On cue, Wesley had arrived shortly after 08:00 to drop in before school.

"Good morning," he said in a voice that was slightly more terse than usual.

He'd come equipped with his tricorder in order to check their vitals and touch base with Data. Wes had been up half the night. He probably would have worked through the night had it not been for Beverly showing up at 01:34 to order him to bed.

"How long do you expect this to take?" Data inquired. "I'd like to try another experiment to remove the suits down in the lab."

"It should only take about fifteen minutes," Wesley replied. "And I really only need one volunteer."

"I'll stay," Riker offered.

"Great, we'll see you down there," Tasha replied.

"Come," Data said.

Reluctantly, they put down their utensils.

"Chief?" Data prompted.

Miles dropped the bowl of oatmeal he'd been trying to sneak out.

"Fine, fine," he grumbled.


"Late night?" Riker asked.

Ever since he'd entered, Wesley had seemed cold. Wesley didn't acknowledge his question.

"How are you feeling today, sir?" Wesley inquired as he ran the tricorder over Commander Riker's chest.

"Fine," Riker shrugged. "Hungry though. Could have done with a longer breakfast, you know?"

Riker was hoping to get a smile out of Wesley – only Wes wasn't laughing.

"What's eating you?" Riker demanded.

"I'm concerned about you," Wesley answered.

"Aw hey kid, look. I'm fine," Riker assured him. "I know these suits are a bit of inconvenience and you wanted them to be the next best thing. We'll figure this out. We always do."

"I hope so," Wesley grumbled in response.

Riker frowned.

"Acting Ensign, I hereby order you to lighten up," Riker teased.

"Well I respectfully choose to ignore your order," Wesley replied before adding, "Sir."

Riker chuckled.

"You can't refuse an order," he laughed.

"You did," Wesley said simply.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Wesley was grateful to finally have that off his chest – it had been eating at him ever since last night.

"Look, we made a mistake," Riker said dismissively. "It happens."

Wesley looked up from his tricorder and met Commander Riker's eyes. There was so much disappointment in his young face that it made Riker uncomfortable.

"You're the First Officer, sir," Wesley said.

"And you of all people should know I didn't get here by following Starfleet protocols to the letter," Riker grinned. "That's what makes Will Riker the man with a reputation as a risk-taker. Sometimes you have to bend the rules."

Wesley's brow furrowed.

"Yeah. To get supplies to the people on Tremiian Vi or save your helmsman when the Hood was under fire," Wesley snapped. "Not for a bloody kabob!"

Riker's blood was boiling. He couldn't believe the nerve of Wesley thinking it was appropriate to dress-down a senior officer in such a manner.

"Well I'm sorry to have shattered your image of me," Riker spat. "I don't recall asking to be in this position."

Wesley blanched.

"And I certainly don't recall giving you permission to speak, Acting Ensign Crusher," Riker added.

Instinctively, Wesley took a step back.

"Then I guess I should be on my way to school, with your permission of course," Wesley said.

He was being intentionally formal given Riker's outburst.

"You know I've just about had it with your morally superior attitude and your hero worship," Riker fumed. "And I'll give you a tip for the Academy – nobody likes a busybody with his nose in the rulebook."

Wesley was horrified.

"Why don't you take a good hard look in the mirror and figure out why you don't have any friends your own age, boy genius," Riker scoffed. "Put that in your little computer and let me know what your calculations come back with."

Wesley was crushed.

His face grew warm, and it took all of his willpower to keep his hands from shaking.

"Dismissed," Riker ordered.

"Thank you, sir," Wesley said.

It broke Riker's heart to hear his unsteady voice.

As soon as the door shut, Riker fell back on the bed.

What have I done? He thought.


"So the basic premise of this idea is that there's a moment of weakness at the neck of the suit when the face-shield is activated," Geordi explained.

"To that end, we will need you to activate your shields when we give the signal," Data instructed.

Tasha, Worf, Commander Riker, and Miles were sitting on two separate tables in the lab. At the same time that they activated their personal shields, Data and Geordi were going to hit them with a blast of low-intensity sonic waves.

The goal was to disrupt the nanocytes long enough for the suit to weaken – allowing them to slip out.

"Is it going to hurt?" Miles inquired.

"No. You may feel warm, but there shouldn't be any pain. These are very low level," Geordi assured him.

"Are there any deleterious side effects?" Worf asked.

"No," Data answered.

"Perhaps you should check it again just to be sure?" Tasha suggested.

Data frowned.

"I believe you are all attempting to stall in hopes of remaining in the suits," Data said.

Worf and Tasha exchanged a glance.

"We like the suits," Worf announced.

"We really like the suits," Tasha added.

It was exactly what Data and Geordi had been afraid of. The suits were influencing their brain chemistry and it was growing increasingly difficult for them to convince them to cooperate with finding a solution.

"I mean, this could be the greatest tactical advantage we've ever had," Tasha argued. "Ever. As in…well ever."

"Just think what we could do with these!" Riker added.

"I'd never have to worry about getting injured from a transporter coil again," Miles said. "Or a malfunctioning console."

"Unstoppable," Worf remarked.

"Please prepare to activate the face shields," Data instructed.

"Data, with the suit you wouldn't have to worry about me getting hurt," Tasha said in an attempt to sway him.

Data frowned.

"No more accidental holodeck injuries or work-related hazards. Just us," Tasha went on.

Data's brow furrowed.

"Lieutenant, need I remind you that there can be no 'us' if you remain stuck in that suit?" Data asked in response. "Precisely how do you propose working around that particular-"

Data paused.

"Barrier," he settled on.

Tasha bit her lip. She hadn't thought about that – she'd been so focused on finding an excuse to stay in the suit that she had completely forgotten their earlier incident.

"That is what I thought," Data said. "Now, please prepare to activate the face shield."

The four reluctantly raised their arms in preparation of Data's signal.

Geordi and Data both picked up one of the emitters and took aim.

"Now," Data instructed.

On cue, they all tapped the suit at the base of their necks. There was a brief surge of energy through the emitter before they were hit with a blast.

For Tasha, it felt almost like a warm wave that travelled through her body, like sunshine on her face. Normally such an experience would be pleasant. But in this circumstance it felt disconcerting.

To Data and Geordi's dismay, the suit did not fall away.

"Well so much for that," Geordi grumbled.

He set the emitter down on the table along the wall. Geordi detached his VISOR. He rubbed his eyes and sighed in exhaustion.

Geordi had worked straight through the night. He was completely knackered – both physically and mentally.

"You may lower the shields now," Data advised.

"I'm trying," Riker said.

It was the third time he had tapped to deactivate it.

"I can't get it," Miles said.

"It won't go," Tasha added, her eyes wide with fear.

They were all panicked.

"We cannot remove them," Worf declared.


"If we could beam food into my stomach-" Riker began.

"Won't work," Miles interjected.

"Right," Riker agreed. "Into my mouth where I would chew it and then-"

"Noooooo," Miles said slowly.

They'd been arguing for nearly fifteen minutes. After the newest malfunction with the suits, the team had relocated to Sickbay at Beverly's insistence.

"Ok. Something like soup. That's easily digestible," Riker shrugged.

Miles threw his head back and groaned.

"I'm talking to a bloody wall," Miles remarked.

He was irritated and hungry and that was never a good combination.

They were all hungry. It had been at least ninety minutes since they'd last eaten. And given the high caloric requirements of their increased strength and speed, ninety minutes felt like an eternity.

Unfortunately, the shields around their heads prevented them from consuming anything.

"We're all hungry," Tasha said. "Chief, can we beam food-"

"NO!" Miles roared. "I've already explained this! Do you lot remember when you asked if I could beam it out?"

The group fell silent. Commander Riker was the first to find his voice.

"That was out. I'm asking if you could beam food in," Riker said slowly as if he were explaining it to a child.

He didn't mean to be condescending. Rather, he was trying to be delicate in approaching the question.

"If I couldn't beam it out, what makes you think I could beam it in?" Miles snapped.

The truth was that while Commander Riker, Tasha, and Worf were all competent officers, they didn't share the same level of expertise that Miles had when it came to engineering applications.

Riker, Tasha, and Worf looked at one another as they silently communicated.

"Why?" Tasha asked softly, turning back to Miles.

"Argh!" Miles groaned as he threw his arms out. "Of all the ruddy people to be trapped with I get stuck with Tweedle Dum, Tweedle Dee, and Tweedle-"

"Don't," Worf said in warning as he put a finger up.

"It's the suits," Beverly said as she swept into the room.

"They're making us stupid?" Miles asked.

"And irritable, reckless, irrational," Beverly said as she listed off their newest symptoms.

"And hungry," Tasha pouted.

Both Data and Geordi had returned with Beverly after going through the latest medical scans.

"The nanocytes are beginning to alter your brain chemistry," Beverly explained. "And I fear it is going to get worse."

"It explains your unwillingness to part with the suits and your disregard for orders," Data said.

"And why you said what you did to Wesley, Commander," Geordi added with a hint of disapproval.

All eyes fell on Commander Riker.

"I feel just awful," Riker confessed. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't tell us. Tell Wesley," Beverly replied. "He's the one you should apologise to."

"Apologise?" Worf inquired. "What did you do?"

The colour drained from Riker's face under Worf's glare.

"I don't know how it happened. I was just so angry. I felt awful the minute the words left my mouth," Riker said. "I didn't mean to come down on him."

Geordi's eyebrows shot up.

"Come down on him?" Geordi exclaimed. "You crushed him. You know he really looks up to you. You made him feel like he was about three inches tall."

Geordi had been the first to find Wesley after his humiliating experience with Commander Riker. He'd been so upset he'd returned to his quarters for a good cry. Wesley had missed his first class of the day – a thought that only made him feel worse for letting it get to him.

"An honourable leader would never resort to such tactics in order to encourage a protégé," Worf stated.

"What did you say to him?" Tasha demanded.

"Where's your decency man?" Miles snapped.

Riker shrank back against the cot as they closed in around him.

"I may have been a bit harsh," Riker admitted.

Inside, Will Riker knew that he needed to make things right with Wesley. But he had wanted to give Wesley some space before approaching him. And Will also figured it would be best to wait until after he was divested of the suit. The last thing he wanted was a repeat performance.

"A bit?" Geordi asked in disbelief. "You destroyed his confidence."

"In particular, he was deeply hurt by your accusation that he has no friends," Data added.

"You said that?" Tasha fumed.

"Hey!" Riker cried as Tasha whacked him on the back of the head.

"Don't act like you're hurt," she said, chastising him. "Not with that face shield on."

Riker ducked as she tried to smack him again.

Data recognised the suit was to blame for their strong reactions. He took hold of Tasha's arm and tried to coax her to sit down.

"You're lucky you've got that suit on to protect your big, stupid face," Tasha warned. "Because as soon as it's off you're going to be the one that-"

Tasha stopped as the door to Sickbay flew open.

"Excuse me," Deanna said. "I have a bone to pick with you."

She made a beeline straight to Commander Riker's cot with an air of righteous fury.

"Now I know these suits have impacted your judgement but that is no excuse to talk to Wesley in that matter!" Deanna said.

"Counsellor-" Riker began.

"Ah!" she warned. "You had better choose those words very carefully because what you did was cruel and uncalled for."

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

Everyone turned to see Captain Picard stride into the room.

"Now, altered brain chemistry or not, I will not tolerate such behaviour toward another crew member – especially coming from a senior officer," Picard announced. "You will all be confined to quarters under guard and limited to interacting only with myself, the other senior officers, and your Security detail."

This was not welcome news.

Tasha squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to process it. She felt so terribly confused by the whole situation. She wanted to trust Captain Picard and his judgement.

And yet she couldn't bring herself to agree with his decision.

"What about lunch?" Miles asked.

"That's a good point," Beverly said, turning to Jean-Luc. "I'm actually glad you're here. We've run into a new problem."

Captain Picard's entire body tensed as he braced himself for the worst.

"In an effort to remove the suits, we activated the cranial shields. The experiment was not a success," Data explained. "And the shields remain in the active position."

"They're stuck in them," Geordi summarised.

"They were stuck before," Picard replied.

He was quite following their train of thought.

"While they can still breath, they can't eat or drink anything," Geordi clarified.

"And scans show the suit is continuing to fuse with their bodies. The nanocytes are multiplying," Beverly added. "I'm afraid if we don't find a solution in the next twenty-four hours then we won't be able to reverse it."

Riker was beaming.

Worf had a pleased smirk on his face.

"Brilliant," Miles said.

"So if we don't reverse this, then we'll get to be in the suits forever?" Tasha asked.

She was practically giddy.

The room fell silent as Beverly and Geordi exchanged a look of concern.

"For the rest of your life," Beverly said.

"In a manner of speaking," Geordi said awkwardly.

"Oh," Tasha gasped as realisation sank in. "Not stuck. Dead."

"Correct," Data answered.


"I think I know what that transmission from the Yamato was about," Tasha said.

Tasha, Worf, Miles, and Riker were sitting around the table in the guest quarters where they were confined.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Beverly, Data, and Geordi were back in the lab hoping to find a solution to free their friends.

It meant that the four got a chance to chat alone for a change.

"I think we're investigating the possibility of a Romulan subspace communication station," Tasha shared.

Miles let out a long, low whistle.

"That would explain the change in course," Riker said.

Tasha tapped the screen on her tablet to pull up a holoimage star chat. She clicked to activate it and the tablet projected the image above the table.

"Now if I were a Romulan looking to set up a subspace communications hub presumably for espionage, there's only one viable choice," Tasha explained.

Using her finger, she interacted with the hologram to zoom in on a specific planet.

"Dalmeade," she said.

It was remote, had a stable orbit, and a number of advantageous natural barriers that prevented orbital scans from picking up much on the surface.

"Well that's great deductive reasoning, T. But I don't see what we can do with this. We're all going to be dead in a few days," Riker remarked.

Worf and Tasha shared a smirk between them.

"For honour," Worf declared.

"It's our duty," Tasha said.

Worf was thrilled. Tasha's plan would offer him the chance to go out on his terms, to die in battle.

"Well there's no question, we're the best team for it," Miles said in agreement.

Tasha nodded and Worf murmured an agreement.

"The Captain is likely preparing to send out scouting parties in shuttles once we pass the asteroid field," Worf surmised. "It will keep the Enterprise safe."

It was the only possible explanation for why Security was operating on a skeleton crew. Risking a shuttle and an away team was far less likely to start a diplomatic incident than having the Enterprise hang nose-to-nose with a Romulan Warbird.

"That's why it has to be us," Tasha asserted. "Nobody else needs to risk being killed or captured. Not when we've already got one foot in the grave."

"Would one of you mind telling me what the hell we're planning?" Riker asked.

Miles leaned in over the table with a newfound sense of confidence.

"Transporters won't work. Not with all that interference in the atmosphere," Miles said.

"Quick and efficient. A 402 strike or a DR manoeuvre," Worf added.

"They're bound to have countermeasures in place," Tasha sighed. "We'll have to move fast."

"Translation please?" Riker snipped.

Worf and Miles both looked to Tasha to lay it out.

"Captain's yacht. It'll be faster. Two-mark IX photon torpedoes. Chief, you'll have about an hour to reprogramme them. Phaser rifles and microcharges. We'll need to move fast," Tasha said. "I'd add snacks but, well.."

She trailed off and inhaled with obvious displeasure.

"Leave the Enterprise," Riker realised.

"Sir, if we're going to die anyways, we might as well use it for something good," Miles declared.


"Data?" Geordi asked.

There was no response as Data's fingers continued to fly across the LCARS screen. He'd been typing frantically nonstop for the last forty-minutes.

"Data," Geordi tried again.

But Data didn't acknowledge him.

"DATA!" Geordi practically shouted.

Data paused and turned to glance back at Data.

"Data, I need your help on this," Geordi said, waving him over.

Data put a pin in his equation and stepped over to the table to assist Geordi as he carried several samples of Wesley's nanocytes into the reinforced test room attached to the lab.

As a precaution, the nanocyte samples were housed in specialised storage canisters. They weighed nearly six stone a piece and took considerable effort to haul around. It was all the triple reinforced duranium and micro containment fields necessary to ensure they didn't escape.

"Say, what's with you today?" Geordi asked. "You've been, well, preoccupied since this morning."

"I am merely focused on trying to find a solution to free our friends," Data replied.

"Naw, this is different," Geordi observed.

He knew Data and his reactions inside and out. And Geordi could tell there was something weighing on him.

"It's no use trying to deny it. You can't hide your emotions from me, Data," Geordi reminded him.

"The sooner we find a solution to this problem, the sooner Tasha will be out of Starfleet Security," Data said.

He set down his samples and headed for the door.

"Whoa, Data," Geordi called after him.

Geordi fumbled to set down the sample he was carrying and chased after Data.

"Hey, what do you mean, Data? Tasha's what?" Geordi stammered.

"Tasha will be transferring out of Security. Therefore, the sooner we find a solution, the closer we are to her last day in Security and hopefully the last time we have to face a situation like this," Data explained.

He returned to his workstation in the lab and resumed typing away to input his formula.

"Data, can you stop for a minute?" Geordi asked.

"Geordi, time is a resource we do not have at our disposal," Data replied without looking up.

Geordi closed his eyes and grumbled as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around this bombshell.

"Tasha's leaving Security and you're okay with this?" Geordi demanded.

"Yes," Data responded simply.

Geordi was flabbergasted.

"And she's okay with this?" Geordi asked.

"She is the one that informed me of her decision," Data replied.

As Geordi squirmed and grumbled behind him, Data realised that he would need to address the matter with a more sufficient explanation otherwise Geordi would not be able to properly concentrate on their work.

He paused typing and turned back to his confused friend.

"Geordi, as you know, Tasha and I share a desire to raise a family," Data said. "And her career as a Security Officer is incompatible with that goal. The risk is too great."

Geordi put his hands on his hips and frowned as he tapped his foot in irritation.

"My utmost concern is for her safety," Data went on.

"What about her happiness?" Geordi asked.

Data cocked his head to the side.

"Of course I care about that," Data replied. "I endeavour to satisfy-"

Geordi's mouth thinned.

"Look, I'm going to level with you. It's none of my damn business, but I think you need to hear this," Geordi began.

Data was surprised by his abrupt tone.

"Tasha was being careful," Geordi said. "Accidents happen and they aren't her fault. Data, she walked on eggshells all morning the day we were testing the suits. She didn't touch or test anything."

Data did not respond.

"An-y-thing," Geordi emphasised.

Geordi's account was consistent with Tasha's explanation.

"All to make you happy," Geordi continued. "And frankly, there were a number of those tests where I wanted Tasha to participate."

Data blinked in surprise.

"I think she could have given us valuable feedback on those projects because she happens to be an expert in her field," Geordi said.

Data opened his mouth to agree. But Geordi put up a finger in warning and Data quickly clamped his mouth shut. It was rare for Geordi to go off on someone and Data recognised this was a matter of great importance.

"She knows what she's doing. She understands her job," Geordi said. "And she's damn good at it."

Geordi stopped and sighed.

"But more than that, she loves her job, Data." Geordi added. "All day she's looked miserable. Now I understand why."

Data felt awful. It was true, Tasha had looked miserable ever since promising Data that she would transfer to the JAG programme.

Even as she had assured him this was the right choice, her nonverbal cues had signalled she was deeply unhappy about it.

"Data, you're in a relationship with a Security Officer whose best friend is a Klingon. And if they can jump off it, surf it, ride it, or climb it – that's what they're going to do," Geordi said.

Data knew Geordi was right.

"But Geordi, there are times when Tasha has chosen to take unnecessary risks because of a personal disregard for her own safety and-"

"I'm not discounting that," Geordi said as he put up a hand. "But there's a world of difference between roughhousing with Worf on the holodeck and doing her job."

He paused.

"She doesn't fool around on the job. And it's part of why we all rely on her to keep us safe," Geordi said. "Look, both my parents are Starfleet officers. And yeah, there were times when things were scary."

Geordi had rarely opened up to anyone about how tumultuous his own childhood had been. Though a loving family, things hadn't always been easy bouncing from starbase to ship.

"When I was eight, my dad was nearly mauled to death by a Gorondian tiger," Geordi shared. "My mum went missing once for six weeks on my fourteenth birthday. We didn't know if she was dead or alive - all because her ship was stranded in the Omega Brindi Cluster."

Geordi paused and chuckled.

"Red alerts. Reassignments. Every time my mum kissed me goodbye, I knew there was a chance she might not come back," Geordi said. "And my dad had the chance to give up his career and transfer to the Hera as a science technician."

It had been years earlier ago after his mother had been promoted to Captain and given her own command.

"I'm glad he didn't," Geordi went on. "He would have been unhappy. That's no way to go about a marriage – let alone raise a family."

Geordi stepped forward and rested his hand on Data's shoulder.

"Don't build your relationship on that kind of foundation," Geordi pleaded. "You can't change who she is. And I think deep down, you don't want to."

Data had to admit he'd been struggling all day to come to terms with Tasha's decision. He was so conflicted. A part of him desperately wanted her to leave her role as Chief Security Officer and move into a career that carried less risk.

But another part of him couldn't shake how disheartened Tasha had seemed about the whole idea.

"She's the person you fell in love with and you two can find a way forward without sacrificing who either of you are," Geordi said. "She's always pushing you to be true to yourself. Don't let her walk away from that just to make you happy."

Data made a beeline for the door, stopping just shy of it to turn back.

"Geordi, you are one wise cookie," Data said. "Thank you."


Data walked as quickly as his eighty-seven-point two-centimetre legs would carry him. He'd made a terrible miscalculation in accepting Tasha's promise to transfer.

Geordi was correct.

Tasha had always encouraged Data to assert himself, to follow his dreams, and to speak up. She had fostered a relationship in which they shared decision-making responsibility.

And with that, she'd created a space where Data felt comfortable enough to be himself.

Data could hardly fathom that he'd permitted his own personal desire to outweigh her happiness.

If their counselling sessions had taught them anything, it was that compromise was essential. Geordi had made a valid point – while Tasha had a knack for choosing risky hobbies and chasing adrenaline as a (sometimes) unhealthy coping mechanism, she did not take such risks with her career.

Tasha was a cautious Security officer keen to diffuse situations.

In her mind, effective Security meant resolving situations diplomatically or using preventative measures to ensure situations didn't devolve to hostilities.

Data knew that it was late – and there was still the pressing matter of finding a way to extract them from the prototype suits before it was too late.

But for the moment, Data had to see Tasha.

He had to make things right.

Data stepped off the lift and rounded the corridor.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

The two Security officers that had been stationed outside of the room were gone. The corridor was empty.

Now on high alert, Data crept along the wall until he reached the door.

Data punched in his command code to override the lock on the door. Inside, the Security officers were unconscious, bound to the table with light wrist restraints.

There were five isolinear chips sitting atop the surface.

Data momentarily closed his eyes and tried to control his artificial breathing. His heart sank.

"Computer, what is the location of Lieutenant Yar?" Data requested.

"Lieutenant Natasha Yar is not on board the Enterprise," the computer responded.