Author's Note: And now the conclusion…
"Sir, we've got eight teams standing by," Lieutenant Olivet reported.
"Right," Captain Picard nodded.
He wasn't entirely comfortable with sending away teams out in shuttlepods to hunt the Romulans, but Jean-Luc couldn't risk starting a war.
"And they know this is strictly an informational gathering mission?" Jean-Luc pressed. "Reconnaissance only."
Lieutenant Olivet nodded with confidence.
"Yes, sir," she replied. "I think we're all keen to get this search done and over with. And without it escalating."
"Good," Picard replied. "Get yourself done to the shuttlebay and await my orders."
With Worf and Tasha confined to quarters, Captain Picard was counting on Lieutenant Olivet to lead the mission.
As soon as the door closed, Jean-Luc sat down behind his desk and sighed.
"You are anxious," Deanna observed.
"Indeed," Picard agreed.
How could I not be? Picard mused internally.
"I take no comfort in ordering them out there," Picard shared. "And the fact Lieutenants Worf and Yar aren't going with them…well."
He paused and shook his head.
"They're nervous too," Deanna explained. "And their lack of confidence is only amplified by your concern."
There was a growing sense of misgiving that permeated every available inch of Deanna's consciousness.
"They know you're not keen on this," Deanna went on. "We all do. And rightfully so. But right now, we need you to project faith in this plan."
"I just hope I can save a little for myself," Jean-Luc replied.
"Are we sure this going to work?" Riker asked.
"No," Tasha said. "But that doesn't mean we didn't make the right decision to try."
She did not look up from helm controls as she carefully adjusted their course heading. They were flying fast and staying close to larger objects using a technique called 'rock skipping' in order to try and throw off the Romulan sensors.
Since they didn't have the same cloaking abilities as the Romulans, they were relying on old tricks to try and sneak up on them.
"And if it doesn't?" Riker pressed.
"We will die," Worf said simply in his signature baritone voice.
"Klingon optimism," Riker retorted.
"We are going to die regardless," Worf reminded him.
"Sir, if you're having second thoughts-" Tasha began to say.
"No, no," Riker cut her off.
He knew it was too late to turn back.
Behind them, Miles stopped refitting one of the photo torpedoes. He wiped the sweat from his brow and then looked up at the rest of the team.
"Look, I don't feel right about leaving Keiko like this," Miles admitted. "But I know it's for the best."
It was a mutual feeling among the group.
"We have a chance to stop the Romulans before they can finish this subspace communications station. And we can do it in a way that keeps our loved ones on the Enterprise safe," Miles explained.
They stood the best chance of getting in and eliminating the threat before the Romulans got wise.
"And I'll make the same choice time and again if it means protecting Keiko," Miles declared. "She'll be right peeved when she listens to the message I left. Furious."
He could just picture it. Miles was attempting to be jovial, but deep down it made him sick to know just how hurt Keiko would feel.
"She'll probably curse me for the rest of her days," Miles said. "But at least she'll get to have them."
Tasha glanced down. With a pang of remorse, she eyed the empty spot on her finger where her ring had once set.
Pity. I was just getting used to it. Tasha thought.
Data sat forward in his chair. He was holding the ring up to his face, studying it as he turned it over in his hand.
The isolinear chip they had left as a group was playing in the background – but Data had long ago tuned out such a message.
In addition to a group messaging explaining their decision to Captain Picard, the four had left individual isolinear chips.
There was one for Keiko, Data, Worf's parents, and Commander Riker's had contained both a farewell to Deanna and an apology to Wesley.
Data hadn't been able to bring himself to listen to Tasha's message.
Fortunately, their message had included their target destination.
Dalmeade.
Data was furious with himself for not seeing it earlier. Tasha had been quite thoroughly occupied with her tablet the night before. In fact, she had fallen asleep reading about Dalmeade.
At the time, Data had presumed she was simply reading about planets in the nearby area. Research was a necessary part of the job, and most Starfleet officers took it upon themselves to read information about the areas they travelled through and to.
Data had to remind himself that Tasha wasn't thinking clearly. Her judgement was impacted by the nanocytes that had embedded themselves in her mind.
It did little to reassure Data.
Somehow knowing that their critical thinking skills were compromised only intensified Data's concerns for this spontaneous, unauthorised mission.
Data was having trouble focusing. This was one instance in which he wished that he could toggle his emotions off.
Resolved that he needed to do something – though still unsure of what that might be – Data rose from his chair and headed off to inform the Captain.
"I'm just concerned that a ship-wide announcement may not set the right tone," Picard sighed. "I don't want to start a panic. We may not find anything."
There was no guarantee the Romulans were constructing an illegal subspace communications hub.
Though all signs point to such a conclusion. Jean-Luc thought.
And even if there was one underway, it may be impossible for them to locate it. The Romulans were, after all, the foremost experts in deception and subterfuge.
The door chimed.
"Come," Picard called out.
Beverly stepped inside and from the look on her face it was evident something was terribly wrong.
"We have a problem," she declared.
"Doctor?" Picard prompted.
Beverly stepped over to his desk and motioned for Deanna to join them. She had her medical tablet in hand prepared with the necessary charts.
"I've been studying the biometric readings we collected from Commander Riker, Lieutenants Yar and Worf, and Chief O'Brien," Beverly explained. "I was trying to find the cause for this drastic increase in their metabolic rate when I noticed an alarming pattern."
She tapped the screen to highlight Commander Riker's readings.
"Now these are the initial scans we conducted more than twenty-four hours ago," she said, indicating to the screen. "This is sixteen hours ago, twelve, eight, and four."
Deanna frowned.
"Doctor, I don't understand," Picard said, prompting Beverly to elaborate.
"The nanocytes are acting like a parasite," Beverly informed him. "They're feeding off them. That's why they've needed all those extra calories."
From the information available, Deanna could clearly see that they weren't just fuelling themselves – they were feeding an entire army of nanocytes that had invaded their bodies.
"I think these nanocytes have found a way to convert the proteins, fats, and glucose in their bodies into energy. They're using it to reproduce," Beverly went on.
"And since they can't eat now," Deanna trailed off.
Beverly nodded with a pained expression.
"They're going to become sluggish, fatigued. They're at risk for dangerous low blood sugar and all the complications that come with that," Beverly warned.
She swiped the screen on her tablet to move to the next slide.
"Now I can try to see if a hypospray can be used to intravenously inject them with a sort of salt tablet-nutrient hybrid. But if we don't get them fluids soon and something to up their blood sugar levels, they're going to starve themselves quite literally," Beverly announced.
"Do it," Picard ordered. "Whatever you need, the resources of the ship are at your disposal."
"Sir, I'd like your permission to bring Commander Data and Lieutenant La Forge in on this," Beverly requested. "We may need to shift priorities from finding a way out to keeping them alive."
As if on cue, the door chimed.
"Come!" Picard called out.
The door slid open to reveal Data.
"Ah! Mr Data, just in time," Picard said.
"Data? What's wrong?" Deanna asked.
She could sense he was disoriented, preoccupied by anxiety.
"Sir, request your permission to take a shuttle to the planet Dalmeade to intercept Commander Riker, Lieutenant Yar, Lieutenant Worf, and Chief O'Brien," Data said.
Captain Picard blinked as he processed this request.
"Intercept?" Jean-Luc repeated in disbelief.
"Correct, sir," Data replied.
He opened his hand to reveal the isolinear chips he had discovered.
"They have left the ship in an attempt to locate and destroy the suspected Romulan subspace communications array," Data explained.
Beverly gasped.
"Romulans?" she asked.
"I was hoping to keep this under wraps," Picard sighed. "It seems that plan failed."
"Your mission is one of recovery," Picard ordered. "Your first priority is to locate Commander Riker's team and safely return them to the Enterprise."
With the Captain's yacht stolen, the rescue team was already starting at a disadvantage. Even the fastest shuttles couldn't match it for speed.
But Jean-Luc couldn't risk sending the Enterprise herself.
"Should you discover evidence of Romulan activity, you are authorised for reconnaissance only," Picard warned. "Document it and return to the Enterprise. The Treaty of Algeron exists for a reason, and we need not resort to violence lest we provoke escalation."
As he scanned the line of faces standing before him, Jean-Luc was beginning to regret authorising such a rescue.
Four of his finest officers were already out there – rogue and under the influence of nanocytes that were influencing their decisions. They had one rational brain cell left between the four of them.
And unfortunately it was the one that had convinced them to take up such a risky mission.
Now Jean-Luc was forced to send the rest of his best officers after them. It was late and most of these people had already put in a full day's work and then some.
"Mr Data will lead the away team," Picard announced.
As the senior officer, Data was the best equipped to handle such a task. Against his better judgement, Captain Picard had agreed to allow Beverly to accompany them.
She had insisted on going along in order to administer medical help. If they really were starving inside those suits, Beverly was their best bet for survival.
Deanna had also pushed to go. She felt that her empathic skills would prove valuable in locating the team and any potential Romulan threats. Furthermore, Deanna thought it best to have a counsellor on hand given their mental state.
Rounding out the team were Lieutenant Jae, Lieutenant Wu, and Ensign Sokol, a Vulcan Security Officer with a knack for Romulan tactical theory.
Geordi had protested. He was eager to volunteer. But Jean-Luc was reluctant to send all of the senior officers away from the ship – particularly if there was Romulan activity in the area.
But Geordi had refused to take no for an answer. And after discussing the matter at length, Jean-Luc had finally relented to allow Geordi to accompany the team.
He'd publicly professed the reason was that he felt his VISOR would be a great asset in locating them. But in his heart, Geordi was keen to go along in order to keep an eye out for Data.
If they found them, Geordi knew Data would need some support. He had every reason to be upset given the circumstances.
And if they didn't find them (or didn't find them in time) then Geordi understood that it would be essential for Data to have support.
It didn't take the team long to load up the necessary supplies and gear up for such a mission.
"Bring them home," Picard ordered.
"Shuttle one, you are clear for departure," the shuttlebay Chief advised.
"I always thought that if I knew I was going to die, I'd have a big party," Riker said. "You know, BBQ. Bonfire. A tender cut of meat grilled to perfection. And big, fat baked potato."
From the back of the shuttle, Miles groaned.
For the last fifteen minutes Riker had been describing his perfect final meal. That had been right after he'd concluded sharing an anecdote about the best pancakes he'd ever eaten and the 'World's Greatest Cheeseburger' in San Francisco.
It had been from the greatest, but satisfying, nonetheless.
"Would you knock it off?" Miles asked.
"Come on, surely you've thought about what your last meal would be," Riker teased.
"You don't knock it off, your last meal is going to be my boot in your mouth," Miles countered. "I'm so hungry I could eat a bloody boot right about now!"
With an irritated huff he turned back to his work on the photon torpedo, grumbling about boots and baked potatoes.
"What about you Worf?" Riker asked.
"Klingon warriors do not concern themselves with such pursuits. What I eat prior to my death is inconsequential," Worf answered. "The feast that awaits in the halls of Sto-vo-kor far outshines anything this life can offer."
In spite of a crusty exterior, Worf could wax poetic better than any of them.
"But I do hope such a feast includes Totally Toffee Hazelnut Raktajino with espresso whip and sprinkles," Worf added dryly.
Riker bit back a grin.
Worf was a man of many talents – including his surprising wit from time to time.
"May the halls of Sto-vo-kor be lined with sprinkles for you, my friend," Riker replied as he clapped Worf on the shoulder.
Worf turned and quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Do you mock my beliefs?" Worf asked.
Riker blanched.
"Sorry, I just-"
"Of course there are sprinkles," Worf said. "We just don't put them in Raktajino. Who would put sprinkles in a hallway? Such a design choice would be…impractical."
Will Riker threw his head back and roared with laughter. Worf had a way of getting him.
Every time.
"What about you T?" Riker asked, turning to the helm.
"Romulans," she replied with a frown.
"Yeah, yeah. You eat Romulans for breakfast," Riker teased.
"No, Romulans," Tasha said without taking her eyes off the viewscreen.
Everyone was immediately on high alert.
"I don't see anything," Miles said as he stared at the viewscreen.
Tasha's hands danced across the console as she switched from main viewer to the last few minutes of sensor scans.
"I've been tracking this for the last eighteen minutes," Tasha shared.
She highlighted a blurb on the sensors.
"Thought it might be a small moon or an asteroid," she explained. "It just disappeared from tracking."
"That doesn't prove it's Romulans," Miles said.
Tasha turned around in her chair and exchanged a concerned look with Worf.
"Moons don't vanish," Worf said.
"Why aren't we slowing down?" Riker asked.
"Sir, I don't think we should," Tasha replied.
For a few tense seconds, the team was silent as they watched the sensor sweep. The only sound was the gentle hum of the ship's life support system.
None of them was sure if seeing confirmation would help assuage their fear, or if nothing was more unsettling.
Tasha was the first to find her voice.
"They don't know that we know they're out there," Tasha said. "For all we know, they may have just cloaked hoping we pass on by."
"We're still another eight minutes out from firing range for their disruptors," Worf advised.
"And just what happens when we get closer and it's clear we're there to poke around, eh?" Miles asked.
Everyone fell silent.
"You know if we emerge on the backside of the planet and drop out of warp as close to the atmosphere as possible, it may buy us a minute or two before their sensors can detect our presence," Worf suggested.
Tasha nodded in agreement.
"It would be enough time to bring our ship down in the atmosphere and being scanning the surface," Tasha said.
"I hate to be the one to say this, but their disruptors can penetrate the atmosphere. They could still fire on us," Miles pointed out.
"And risk firing on their own base?" Tasha asked.
She glanced back over her shoulder at Commander Riker.
"Your call, sir," Tasha said, requesting he make a decision.
"This is one helluva a poker game we're playing," Riker said with a wicked grin. "I'm all in."
"Lieutenant, please maintain our current speed and heading," Data instructed.
"Aye, sir," Lieutenant Jae replied.
She tapped the console to set the shuttle to a comfortable cruising speed as they raced across the Sarpedian sector.
Data glanced over at Geordi who was in the next seat.
"How is it coming?" Data inquired.
"Making progress," Geordi replied as he carefully attuned the settings of his VISOR with a sonic driver. "I've been able to increase the sensitivity of the tachyon particle detection sensors."
Geordi finished up with the sonic driver and switched it off. He set back down into his toolkit and then reattached his VISOR.
"But it comes at the loss of some of my temperature and infrared spectrum detection," Geordi advised.
Geordi frowned and quickly detached his VISOR again.
"Geordi? Are you alright?" Data asked.
"It's a bit disorienting," Geordi shared, rubbing his forehead.
"Then please discontinue. We will find an alternative method of detecting the Romulans," Data ordered.
He desperately wanted to find the rogue crew – but not at the expense of harming Geordi.
"I'll be fine," Geordi assured him.
Geordi could feel Data's look of disbelief.
"I'll. Be. Fine," Geordi repeated. "Just let me know when we're close. I'd like to limit my exposure."
"Geordi, I do not wish for you to place yourself at risk for-"
Geordi's hand shot out and gripped Data's forearm.
"I promise I'll speak up if it's too much," Geordi assured him. "But I can do this. I have to do this. It's our best shot."
Based on their last encounter with the Romulans, Geordi had adjusted his VISOR to pick up on the distinct tachyon signature left by Romulan ships.
Since they were on a shuttle and did not have the advantage of the Enterprise's weapons systems and advanced sensors, they were relying on this plan to locate any Romulans in the area.
"We're going to find them," Geordi promised.
"Why haven't they fired on us?" Miles asked.
The Calypso had dropped out of warp and into the planet's atmosphere. For a tense, full two minutes, they had been flying through sky on the dark side of the planet.
"Maybe they haven't found us yet?" Worf suggested. "We know so little about their sensor systems."
"Or they want to make us look like the aggressors," Riker commented. "That's right out of their playbook."
They all fell silent.
"Naw," Riker said, dismissing his own theory. "This far into Federation space? No, they wouldn't do that this side of the Neutral Zone. They'd do it in a place where they could claim it was unprovoked."
"Make it look like we'd violated the Treaty of Algeron," Worf said in agreement. "A wise move to avoid condemnation from the Klingon Empire."
The shuttle slowed as Tasha activated a sensor sweep.
"I think they're waiting, judging our intent," Tasha said. "Hoping that if they lie low and we can't spot them, that we'll simply leave. Remember, they're not aware we know about this plan."
She grinned.
"For all the know, we could simply be on a scientific survey mission," she said.
"Commander, I have a lock on the Federation shuttle," the Romulan Weapons officer advised.
"Hold your fire," the Commander responded.
"But Commander-" the Weapons officer protested.
"Silence," the Commander snapped.
She did not need to turn around to see the outrage in the face of her Weapon's officer.
"Rion, if you are dissatisfied with serving under my command I will be only happy to escort you to the nearest airlock," the Commander warned.
She chuckled and shook her head as she listened to the Weapons officer grumble behind her.
"If we destroy that shuttle, Starfleet will come looking. They'll send another shuttle, possibly even a ship," she explained.
The Romulan Commander turned and smiled.
"Rion," she sighed.
Before anyone could react, she whipped out her disruptor and fired, hitting the Weapon's officer squarely between the eyes. His body slumped to the metallic floor.
No one moved.
"Let this be the last time I have to explain my orders to any of you," the Commander sneered.
Folding her arms across her chest, she turned back to the viewscreen to monitor the progress of this shuttle. It had dropped out of warp and appeared to be scanning the surface of the planet. At its present speed and course, the shuttle was at least another two hours away from locating the Romulan Communications Array.
Once complete, such a structure would be cloaked.
But it was still under construction and not yet able to independently cloak.
"Notify Tactical. I'm going down there with a strike team. We'll set up a series of portable cloaking shields," the Commander instructed. "Hopefully, they'll just fly right on past."
As the hours ticked on, the four rogue crew members continued the hunt on the planet's surface for the prize.
Dalmeade was remote and unpopulated for a number of reasons and that included it's hostile climate. While technically an M-class planet, it was barely so.
With frigid temperatures and dangerous sandstorms, it was easy to get lost on foot. Because of its location in the Edun IV solar system, Dalmeade only received a meagre four hours of daylight.
Tasha had to admit the Romulans had chosen well.
"Well the torpedoes are ready," Miles announced. "If we can find the damn place."
"I believe we may have located it," Worf said.
All eyes turned to Worf.
"There, 0230. Mark," Worf said, pointing out the viewscreen.
"Well I'll be," Riker remarked.
It was evident the Romulans had made a haphazard attempt to cloak the facility. But with all the dust and heavy winds, they could easily identify the outline of the facility.
"Looks like our suspicions about their cloaks are true," Miles said. "They're not out of phase. Just hiding and-"
Miles paused and frowned.
"Um, the facility was back that way," Miles said.
Tasha had made no attempt to slow the vessel or land.
"I think we should fly by. Park somewhere else," she recommended. "If we go on foot, it will be nearly impossible for them to see us coming."
"You mean you expect me to lug those photon torpedoes all the way from the shuttle back there?" Miles asked in disbelief.
Tasha, Worf, and Commander Riker all glanced back to look at Miles.
"Oh, right," Miles realised, remembering the suit.
Locating an area that was partially sheltered due to heavy rock formations, Tasha set the shuttle down. They set the device to automatically self-destruct in twenty-four hours.
"Computer, silence all alerts," Riker ordered.
If their mission was unsuccessful and the Romulans located the Calypso, they wouldn't have it for long.
"We may run into Romulan patrols," Worf warned as he attached his sidearm.
"A little hand-to-hand never scared you before," Tasha teased, clipping on her tactical vest.
Worf grinned ear-to-ear. There was a devious look in his eyes.
"May I take point?" Worf requested.
"After you," Tasha said as she opened the back of the shuttle.
To Worf's dismay, they did not run into any Romulan patrols. It was bitterly cold on the surface of the planet. So cold that in normal circumstances, they would have been wearing protective gear.
Fortunately, the prototype suits protected them from the elements – though they could still sense it was cold out. While not freezing, everyone was pleasantly chilly.
"At least we've got these face shields," Miles said. "I can't see a bloody thing."
"Visibility is quite low," Worf chimed in.
Tasha dreaded to see what an actual sandstorm was like. Even with just the normal high winds, they could hardly see two metres ahead.
"This way," Riker said, pointing ahead.
He was using a tricorder programmed with the coordinates of the Romulan construction site in order to guide them.
As they crept along, everyone grew increasingly agitated. They were itching for action. Due to their increased strength, both Miles and Commander Riker were carrying one of the adapted photon torpedoes on their backs, secured in place with a series of straps typically used for hauling less lethal supplies like camping gear.
All of a sudden, Worf stopped. He put his fist up and everyone froze.
Straining her ears, Tasha listened carefully for any sound of footfalls on the rocky soil. It took a few seconds for her to filter out the constant sound of the wind.
Worf turned around and quirked an eyebrow in her direction.
Tasha smiled as soon as she could hear it – just above the howling wind was a steady hum from a generator.
The team carefully crept forward until Worf could gently tap the cloaked structure with the butt of his phaser rifle.
It shimmered and rippled out from the impact point.
Commander Riker adapted the tricorder settings to scan for any discrepancies in the field. He knew that if there was an entrance, it would register as a different frequency in order for the cloak to account for the change in shape.
It didn't take long to detect.
The expert at lockpicking, Tasha had to work while Worf kept guard.
"Why don't we set the torpedoes here and go," Miles urged.
The howling wind, the dark, and the threat of Romulans was starting to get to him.
"It's spooky waiting out here," Miles said.
"We don't know the size of the facility," Riker replied. "We need to place them strategically for maximum damage."
From their present position and earlier flyby, the facility appeared to be of a moderate size. Commander Riker wanted to ensure it was destroyed with no chance of salvage.
There was no doubt in his mind that the Romulans would try again in another location. But that would cost time and money. It was a considerable investment. Commander Riker wanted to make it expensive and uncomfortable for the Romulans to try again.
Furthermore, he wanted to send them a message that they would not tolerate this in Federation territory.
At least not without resistance.
Tasha grumbled and dropped to her knees. It was eerie to watch her hand disappear behind the cloaking device as she searched for a way in.
"I don't think this is a door," Tasha notified them. "Feels more like an access shaft. Maybe ventilation."
She leaned forward. Half her body disappeared entirely as she rummaged around, feeling for any sort of console or control panel that would open it properly.
"Maybe I should go first," Worf suggested. "I do have the most training in covert operations."
"I think if anyone's going first, it's me," Riker argued. "After all, I'm in command of this mission."
"No offence, sir. But I've clocked the most hours crawling through Jefferies tubes," Miles chimed in. "I'm the best man for the job."
"Will you three knock it off? There's plenty of backdoor access for everyone," Tasha snapped.
The three men feel silent.
Muttering to herself about the uselessness of her team members, Tasha continued working to open the door.
The sound of someone covering a laugh by pretending to cough made her stop.
All of a sudden, Tasha's torso emerged from behind the cloak as she glared up at the others.
"Is there something funny?" she asked tersely.
Worf looked as if he were trying his best not to move, but the muscle on the side of his face was twitching. Riker clamped his mouth shut and hastily shook his head in the negative. Miles covered his mouth with his hand and shrugged casually.
Tasha eyed them with heavy scepticism before turning back to her task.
"Of all the stupid, pointless designs for a hatch," she muttered as continued to search.
In the far corner, she could just barely feel something that resembled an access console. Tasha groaned as she strained to reach it, her fingertips brushing along the edge.
"Something wrong?" Miles asked.
"My fingers aren't long enough," Tasha replied as she stretched her body in an attempt to reach the target.
"Need any help with your backdoor access?" Riker managed to choke out. "My fingers might be able to get the job done."
"Oh pish," Miles said, waving him off. "I've got years of more experience."
For some reason, he felt an urge to compete with Commander Riker. It was almost like it was embedded in his DNA.
"Listen old man, I'm sure you were a real champ in your day," Riker responded, rising to the challenge. "But this isn't a job for a pensioner."
The two were seconds away from coming to blows when Worf stepped between them.
"I've got you both beat. Twice over," he smirked.
Neither Commander Riker nor Miles was keen to go toe-to-toe with a Klingon – especially a Klingon wearing a protective suit.
Tasha jerked. She cursed, bumping her head on the top of the access shaft when she felt Worf rest his hand on the small of her back.
It was enough to snap them all back to reality.
Tasha sat up and glanced up at her colleagues.
"What the hell has gotten into you three?" she asked in an irritated whisper.
Riker shook his arms and head as Miles took a series of steadying breaths. Worf frowned.
"Sorry, T. I think it's the suits," Riker answered.
"I'm sorry, sir," Miles apologised.
"I'm the one that should apologise," Riker replied.
"Well, when you're done making nice we've got a mission to complete," Tasha said.
Worf was lying on his back, half his body missing as he slipped into the access shaft.
Miles and Riker dropped to the ground. After carefully passing their torpedoes in through the entrance, the team scrambled inside.
"Sir, I've located the Calypso," Lieutenant Jae reported. "It's on the surface of the planet. The southern hemisphere."
Data turned to Counsellor Troi, wordlessly asking for her input.
"I can sense there's something out there. But I do not sense hostility. At least not directed at us," Deanna advised.
Geordi slipped on his VISOR. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath, preparing himself for the onslaught of visual imagery that came with the adjustments.
Opening his eyes he hissed at the sudden, disorienting change.
Beverly was on hand and offered him a reassuring squeeze of support.
"Whoa," Geordi remarked.
"Geordi?" Data prompted. "Are you able to detect a Romulan vessel in orbit?"
"There's something there alright," Geordi reported. "But I can't actually see the ship. I don't know what size or class it is – I can only see the tachyon field trailing it."
They both knew tachyons were quick to disperse. It was almost like seeing the glow that followed a moving light without being able to actually pinpoint the light itself.
"We're still here though, so they obviously haven't blown us out of the sky yet," Geordi said. "Maybe they're waiting to see what happens."
"I believe they are reluctant to start a conflict. And they are not aware that we can detect their presence," Data reminded him. "Therefore, I would surmise they are simply waiting in hopes that we will leave the area."
Deanna nodded.
"I agree. I sense great reluctance at our presence, but it hasn't shifted to aggression," Deanna advised.
"In any case, they'll have to decloak in order to fire," Jae offered.
Data nodded in agreement.
"Destroying our vessel would only draw in a larger Federation response. However, we are now the second Federation vessel in this area today," Data said. "Our appearance may cause the Romulans to rethink such a lie and wait strategy."
Data was keenly aware that their situation could devolve at any second.
"Lieutenant, set us down next to the Calypso as quickly as possible," Data ordered.
There was nothing indicate whether the Calypso had landed of her own accord – or was simply there waiting. The team could have ventured off to explore the area.
Or it could be a Romulan ambush. Data thought.
As the planet drew closer, Data tried to suppress the thought of Tasha as a Romulan captive.
Romulans do not take captives. Data reminded himself.
Tasha's hands were sweating as she clung to the shadows, pressing her body tight against the wall to make herself as small as possible as a Romulan patrol passed.
Behind her, Commander Riker was doing his best to control his breathing.
As they waited in silence, each second felt like an age.
After seven agonising seconds, the footfalls grew faint.
Tasha carefully checked the corridor before waving Riker out.
"I'm reading at least fifty life signs," Riker whispered. "I thought you said this was an outpost."
"Yeah, I'm thinking our intelligence was more than a little off," Tasha replied as they crept along.
While she had no doubt this was intended as an outpost, it seemed the construction was much further along than previously indicated.
Given the number of Romulan troops they had seen already, it was likely there was a transport ship or smaller class cruiser in orbit – possibly even a larger Warbird.
"Based on what we've seen, I'd say they're ten days, maybe a week out from completion," Tasha surmised.
"An alarming notion," Riker commented.
It only reinforced their decision to come.
"Come on, it looks like this corridor connects to some sort of access shaft," Riker said as he analysed the tricorder reading. "Probably as good of a place as any to get us to their power cell."
"Head's up," Tasha said in a hushed voice.
She pulled Commander Riker into an adjacent corridor just in the nick of time as a Romulan officer strolled past.
Data's brow furrowed as he studied the log entry on the Calypso.
Someone – likely Worf – had wiped the flight records prior to departure. It was a protective measure intended to prevent the Romulans from learning the whereabouts of the Enterprise herself.
Tasha and Commander Riker's command codes had been entered to initiate a self-destruct sequence.
It was a smart move – but one that frightened Data.
They were still thinking clearly enough to employ a number of countermeasures against any possible Romulan capture.
And that meant they were likely on their way to do more than just reconnaissance.
"Commander, I count four type three phasers missing from the locker along with microcharges, four type one phasers, flash grenades, and several canisters of anestazine gas," Lieutenant Jae reported.
"Data, I may have something," Deanna said.
Data ordered Jae to run a perimeter sweep of the immediate area.
"But do not go far," Data ordered. "Visibility is poor."
Jae nodded and turned to leave as Data stepped over to the Operations console where Deanna was seated.
"Counsellor, the computer records were wiped prior to our arrival," Data advised.
"Yes, but after that occurred, Commander Riker's access code was used to download a set of coordinates onto a tricorder," Deanna discovered.
"Geordi, do you believe you could modify the transporters on this craft to respond to a site-to-site transporter locator?" Data inquired.
Geordi grinned.
"I see what you're getting at," Geordi nodded. "Yeah. I think I could make that happen. I'll need an hour or so."
"Do it," Data replied, authorising the order.
"First things first, let's get the auto-destruct disabled, eh?" Geordi suggested.
"I do not believe that would be wise," Data countered.
Everyone froze.
"Data, this ship is going to blow," Beverly said.
"Correct, Doctor," Data replied. "But the self-destruct will not occur for another twenty-one hours and thirty-three minutes."
Data was hesitant to state the odds aloud, but he wanted to impart why it was so important to leave such a protective measure in place.
"We may all be dead in the next twenty-four hours, and it is imperative that we do not allow this ship to fall into Romulan hands," Data said.
Lieutenant Jae poked her head in the back of the ship.
"The wind's wiped most of the tracks beyond this rock formation. But there are only four sets of prints leading out of here," Lieutenant Jae reported as she shook sand out of her hair. "I'd say they left on their own."
"Then let us hope that when we find them, that they are still alone," Data replied.
Tasha's eyes narrowed as she struggled to focus on arming the photon torpedo. The colours of the control panel were starting to blur together.
Her feet felt like they weighed a ton, she swayed as her vision began to go dark.
"Whoa, hey," Riker said, catching her before she tumbled over a railing.
"Sorry," Tasha replied in a hazy voice.
She knelt down and took a series of slow breaths to steady herself.
"So tired," she said.
It was exhaustion and hunger. The heat from being so close to the Romulan power core only amplified her queasy feeling.
"It's dehydration. We're all feeling it," Riker said.
"I'm sorry, sir," Tasha repeated.
"Want me to take over for a bit?" Riker offered.
Tasha shook her head.
"Almost there," Tasha replied, hauling herself back up.
"Good, because you're out of time, Lieutenant," Riker said.
"Just about," Tasha said without looking up.
"No, I mean you are out of time," Riker repeated.
Tasha froze as she felt a disruptor on her back.
"Kroiha," a young Romulan ordered.
"Do you know what he's saying?" Riker asked out of the corner of his mouth.
Tasha shot Riker a look.
Riker shrugged. They had left their combadges on the Enterprise in order to avoid detection during their escape. Without the universal translator, Riker was lost.
"Kroiha," the Romulan repeated as he poked Tasha in the back.
"Easy, easy," Tasha said as she slowly raised her arms to signify she was no threat.
"I wish I knew what he was-" Riker began to say.
"I think given our current position, there's enough context to figure it out," Tasha said in a terse voice.
Tasha hissed as the Romulan shoved his disruptor at her in a warning motion.
"Kroiha! Temeal," he ordered.
Tasha bit her tongue. Normally, she was cool as a cucumber under duress. But the suit was playing with her mind, giving her a false sense of invulnerability.
They had never actually tested the suit against a Romulan disruptor.
And to Tasha's horror – she was curious to try.
Before she got a chance, they lost the advantage as three more Romulan officers appeared in the doorframe.
"Oh, you brought friends," Riker said as he backed toward the corner. "It's a regular party."
All of a sudden, Worf dropped down from the ceiling and landed on the mental walkway. With two swift shots, he felled the Romulan that was holding Riker and Tasha.
"Kroiha!" one of the three Romulans in the door ordered.
From the corner of the room, Miles whistled to catch their attention.
"Yoo hoo!" he called out.
Two of the Romulans took aim at the Chief.
"Oh I wouldn't do that if I were you," Miles warned.
He tapped a console on the wall to release a plasma coolant tank that was just overhead. Worf jumped back to avoid the onslaught as they were swept off the platform and fell into the power cell below.
"Nasty way to go," Miles commented.
"Thanks," Tasha said.
"Don't mention it," Worf replied.
It was fortuitous timing – though Commander Riker couldn't fathom how they had managed to activate their torpedo and locate them.
"How did you activate your torpedo and make it back here so fast?" Riker inquired.
Simultaneously, Tasha turned to finish activating the torpedo in this section.
"Don't bother," Miles instructed.
"We have found a better solution," Worf advised.
Riker gestured, waiting for an explanation.
Suddenly, a voice alert began to sound. It sounded almost as if it were counting down.
"Self-destruct," Miles said. "Rigged it to blow the whole bloody place."
Riker was beaming.
"And I may have stopped the coolant to the power cell as a safeguard," he added. "Even if they manage to unscramble what I did, they'll never cool this cell in time."
Tasha turned and frowned.
"Chief, we're in the power cell," Tasha reminded them.
"Right, let's get a move on shall we?" Riker said as grabbed Tasha's arm.
Dodging disruptor fire and flurry of Romulans trying to evacuate the base, the four of them raced along the corridor in desperate search for a way out.
"You know even if we make it outside, we're still going to be in the blast radius," Miles shouted as they ran.
With the two special photon torpedoes left behind, the blast was going to level anything in a three-kilometre radius.
They were fatigued and it was starting to impact their performance. Even with the enhanced abilities of the suit, there was no possible way they could escape in time.
"Let's look for an alternative," Worf suggested.
"Right. Shuttles, escape pods. Anything that might be designed to survive or eject," Tasha said.
Without much thought, they split up in a frantic search for anything that could help.
Worf turned down a corridor that was a dead end. Miles located a storage locker – but it was nothing more than tools and supplies.
Will Riker chased after a handful of Romulans that were heading for a large door. It slid open to reveal a hanger.
"Hey! Hey this way!" Riker shouted back.
He rushed inside and immediately jumped back as a wave of disruptor fire came straight at him.
Peeking around the corner, Will could spy several Romulans as they were scrambling up a ramp onto a large, armoured shuttle.
There were smaller shuttles housed in the hanger and Will knew one of them was going to be their way out of there.
"Down here!" Riker hollered. "Let's go!"
He made a beeline for the nearest shuttle and ducked to dodge disruptor fire. Miles and Worf rushed out a moment later under a flurry of green jets.
Out of the corner of his eye, Will caught a flash of something.
"Go, start it up," Riker ordered.
He rounded a corner, chasing after a familiar blonde.
"Tasha, Tasha this way," Riker said.
She stopped and turned to face him. She eyed him curiously, looking him up and down as if to assess if he was worth acknowledging.
"Tasha, we've got a way out of here," Riker said.
She did not respond. In fact, she almost seemed amused.
It was then that Will realised she wasn't wearing the same sleek, black prototype suit as the rest of them. No, she was dressed in black. But it looked almost… Romulan.
The high collar, the sharp sleeves.
Riker blinked, utterly perplexed.
Before he could say anything, she turned on her heel and marched up the ramp to one of the shuttles.
A hand on his shoulder brought Will out of his stupor.
"Commander," Data said.
"Data?" Riker asked.
"Yes, sir," Data replied. "Where are the others?"
"Data, are you really here?" Riker asked.
"Sir, we do not have much time," Data replied.
Riker was so confused as Beverly appeared at his side, running her tricorder over him.
"He's disoriented," Deanna remarked.
How can they all be here? Riker thought.
Upon hearing familiar voices and phaser fire, Worf and Miles descended from the shuttle.
"Sir!" Worf called out.
Tasha came rushing out from behind a storage crate a moment later.
"Geordi, lock onto our signals. Eight to beam out," Data ordered.
"Wait, wait, wait, you can't beam-" Miles said as they begin to dematerialise.
A moment later, they reappeared on the Bridge of the Calypso.
"Right," Miles said, realising what had just happened.
"Punch it, we've got to go," Tasha ordered.
Geordi frowned.
"I believe the self-destruct was activated. It would be wise for us to vacate the immediate area," Data explained.
Lieutenant Jae instantly slipped into the helm position and fired up the engines.
"Any particular heading?" she inquired.
"Take us out of the atmosphere," Data advised.
The engines kicked on and the ship jerked to life. They hadn't made it two hundred yards when there was an enormous boom followed by a powerful shockwave.
It was enough to rattle the ship, but not destroy it.
"We've suffered some light damage, but nothing that poses an immediate risk," Geordi reported.
"Surface scans indicate that the facility has been destroyed," Deanna said. "And I'm not sensing anything in orbit any longer."
Geordi had already switched his VISOR back. But the Calypso offered more advanced sensors than a typical shuttle.
"These tachyon signatures indicate a warp bubble has been opened recently," Geordi said. "Hopefully, back across the Neutral Zone."
"Please set a course for home," Data ordered.
"Can we deactivate the self-destruct sequence now?" Deanna inquired. "I think we may all feel a bit more comfortable knowing it's off."
"Of course, Geordi, Counsellor," Data said. "It will take two Command Officers."
With the Romulans gone, Data turned his attention back to the four rogue officers in the back of the ship.
They were all collapsed against the wall, breathing hard as Beverly scanned their vital signs. Tasha looked barely conscious.
And Beverly looked concerned.
"Doctor?" Data inquired.
"Just as I feared," Beverly answered. "These nanocytes are acting like parasites. They're dehydrated. Weak."
She glanced up at Data, her face etched with worry.
"I'd say we need to get them to Sickbay immediately, but I don't know what I could do for them," Beverly confessed.
Sickbay was indeed where they had ended up.
"They're dying," Beverly announced.
The other senior officers were standing behind a glass wall as they stared at their four friends lying nearly unconscious on their cots.
Wesley felt just awful. Beverly and the others had assured him it wasn't necessary to hang about – but Wesley couldn't leave.
He needed to stay. In his heart, Wes blamed himself for the whole situation.
"We can't feed them. I can't get them fluids," Beverly grumbled. "And even if we could – it would only prolong the process."
Data had no desire to give up.
But he felt that he had literally exhausted all available options to try and save them.
Deanna rested her hand on Data's shoulder.
"Data, if there's anything you want to say to Tasha," she trailed off.
Keiko had been on hand the moment they'd returned. She hadn't left Miles's bedside since. She had no idea how much of what she said was getting through to him – they were all delirious with hunger.
But she wanted to offer what comfort she could.
Data excused himself from the group to take up his own vigil at Tasha's bedside. He reached out and took hold of her hand – the only part of her not encased in the suit that would be her tomb.
"That was very brave," Data whispered. "You… you have always inspired me with your bravery."
He wasn't quite sure what to say.
They'd already gone through such a long, awkward goodbye (several times) during their recent hearing on Starbase 173.
"Tasha, your presence has so enriched my life that I find I will treasure every engram we have shared," Data said. "Even the ones in which we found ourselves in disagreement."
Her eyes were barely open, but she seemed to recognise that someone was speaking.
"Do not try to move," Data said.
True to form, Tasha did not listen. She turned her head and blinked.
Instinctively, Data went to cup her face. His hand came to rest on the forcefield. It was a small, but powerful barrier that served as a reminder to the cruelty of their separation.
To Data's surprise, Tasha gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
She didn't have it in her to form words – but she wanted there to be no doubt in Data's mind where her heart was at.
More than anything, she wished that she could kiss him one last time.
Without warning, the shield on her face dropped.
Data sat in shock. It took a full 0.024 seconds for it to register in his positronic brain.
"Doctor! Doctor!" Data said urgently.
Tasha wasn't the only one experiencing such a reaction.
"Miles!" Keiko gasped as his face shield deactivated.
"Mom?" Wesley called out.
He'd been sitting between Worf and Commander Riker ever since their return. Wesley couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that his last encounter with Commander Riker had been one of anger.
Beverly rushed in. Nurse Ogawa was a step behind her as they quickly scanned their biosigns.
"Let's get them started on fluids. And ten cc's of metrolapline," Beverly ordered.
While her medical team went to work, Wesley and Geordi were on the scene with their own scanners.
"Maybe the suits are beginning to fail?" Wes said, hoping they would soon be free.
"I'm still showing strong nanocyte activity in Worf," Geordi said as he analysed the readings from his tricorder. "These little buggers are persistent."
Data cocked his head to the side as he studied the suit.
"Theory," Data said suddenly.
He turned to Geordi and Doctor Crusher.
"The behaviour of the nanocytes would indicate they are reliant on these bodies, like parasites and a host," Data explained. "Perhaps this is an act of self-preservation. They recognised the shields were preventing further nutritional intake."
"Are you saying you think the nanocytes are sentient?" Geordi inquired.
"No," Data answered. "Not necessarily. That is to say, we have not established that. However, it could be possible."
He raised his eyebrows as he considered this hypothesis.
"Regardless of their sentience, I believe they are acting on instinct," Data said. "As you would say, hungry."
"I don't understand," Picard admitted. "Isn't this a good thing?"
Beverly answered 'no' at the same time that Data said 'yes.'
The two exchanged a glance as Data nodded for Beverly to go first.
"Feeding them is only prolonging this crisis. It's fuelling more nanocyte production," Beverly said.
They'd started the team on intravenous fluids and injected them with a series of supplements to compensate for the lack of nutrition. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since they had last eaten.
"Sir, given their increased metabolic requirements, even going a day without food is like a week for their bodies," Beverly explained. "The nanocytes have started feeding on their muscle tissue. Worf in particular is at risk."
He carried more muscle than the rest of them and it seemed the nanocytes had developed quite a taste for it. While not immediately painful, such a process of consumption left them feeling fatigued, weak, and disoriented.
Because of the suits, Beverly had no way to accurately assess just how emaciated they were – the fusion of body and suit was so seamless.
"But you disagree," Picard said, turning to Data.
"Captain, I believe we can use this to our advantage," Data replied.
Jean-Luc didn't quite follow.
"If the nanocytes are willing to remove certain aspects of the suit's design in order to preserve themselves, this presents a weakness we can exploit," Data said.
Jean-Luc nodded.
"How?" he asked.
"Unknown," Data answered honestly. "At least, I am not certain. Yet."
"Data, are you proposing that we starve them?" Beverly asked in disbelief.
"It would seem the logical conclusion," Data suggested. "We have already expended all other options."
"It could kill them!" Beverly protested.
She threw up her hands in exasperation.
"It will kill them," Beverly asserted. "Their fluids, saline levels are dangerously low. They're going to start consuming their own heart muscle. It's a painful, horrendous process."
Data wasn't to keen on the idea, but he recognised it may be their only shot.
"Doctor, I do not wish to harm them. But this is the only weakness we have been able to identify," Data replied. "If my theory is correct, the suit will, in time, detach itself."
"How long?" Picard asked.
It was an intriguing proposal – particularly considering they had already spent several days trying to find a solution.
"Sir, they are going to die regardless," Data insisted. "I believe they would want us to try."
Jean-Luc sat back at his desk and scratched his chin as he mulled over the proposal.
"Agreed," he said.
Jean-Luc's eyes fell on Beverly.
"Doctor, I know this is difficult for you," Jean-Luc acknowledged.
"You're asking me to harm my patients in hopes of saving them," Beverly replied.
"It's for the best, I hope that you can-" Jean-Luc began.
"You don't need to patronise me, Captain. I understand," Beverly assured him.
She was feeling testy – but that didn't prevent her from seeing the bigger picture.
"Of course," Picard nodded apologetically. "Do what you can to make them comfortable. Data, please stay behind. I'd like to discuss what happened on Dalmeade."
"And I've always thought the world of you. I think that's why it hurt so much," Wesley said.
Riker smiled. It was far from his typical, broad grin. The hunger had made him lethargic. But the attempt was appreciated, nonetheless.
"No apology necessary," Riker said. "I should be the-"
"It's alright, sir," Wesley assured him. "You weren't yourself."
He flashed Commander Riker a reassuring smile.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry this happened," Wesley said.
Riker closed his eyes and shook his head.
"Don't blame yourself," Riker replied. "I put the suit on. I wanted to put the suit on."
It did little to reassure the acting Ensign.
"Not your fault your design is just too good," Riker said.
Jean-Luc was alarmed to see the progress of the Romulan communications array. Prior to its destruction, Data's team had retrieved a number of preliminary readings on the structure.
Based on their scans and the images compiled, it had been close to completion.
"And you're sure it's destroyed?" Picard inquired. "No chance of salvaging the equipment?"
"Sir, the blast radius levelled nearly three kilometres of the planet's surface," Data answered. "There is nothing left to salvage."
"I've sent a subspace communication to the Yamato asking that they monitor the Neutral Zone for any tachyon disruptions that might indicate Romulan activity," Picard shared.
There was no telling if their actions would cause the Romulans to tuck tail and run or double down.
"I want to be prepared for any and all contingencies," Picard said. "I'm taking the ship to Yellow Alert for the time being."
Data nodded in understanding. It was a wise precaution.
As he studied the images of the compound, Jean-Luc felt conflicted.
"I must admit I am relieved this is destroyed. I hesitate to think what might have come from this," Picard admitted. "Though I fear what the fallout may be."
"Sir, if I may," Data began. "While this was not an ideal outcome, this situation has confirmed our theory that the Romulans have the capability to cloak structures as well as their own ships."
"Indeed," Picard concurred. "Not a terribly pleasant thought."
Jean-Luc set the tablet down on his desk and rubbed his eyes.
"The question is – and I'm almost afraid to ask – how long have they had such a capability? And how many more sites are out there that we don't know about?" Picard mused.
"Impossible to tell," Data replied.
"Therein lies my concern," Picard said.
This evidence of Romulan activity contradicted every Starfleet official stance on the subject. Starfleet was adamant that the Romulan Empire was in decline, it's sphere of power greatly diminished due to internal conflict and instability.
They didn't see much threat from an Empire that could barely feed itself.
For close to a year, Starfleet had been pulling back from the Neutral Zone – reassigning officers, decommissioning starbases, and diverting resources to other conflicts.
Jean-Luc wasn't the only one feeling uneasy about it.
Months earlier, Worf and Tasha had approached him with their own concerns about a Romulan conspiracy. They'd suspected Romulan espionage activities on the Enterprise ever since she'd left spacedock.
But after their run-in with the Romulans near Angel One, their fears were only amplified. Tasha and Worf were convinced that there had to be a Romulan conspiracy that went higher, deeper into Starfleet.
And Jean-Luc had promptly put the kibosh on their efforts to conduct an off-the-books investigation.
It wasn't a lack of faith.
Captain Picard was fully convinced they were onto something. They had more than enough convincing evidence that someone in Starfleet Command was coordinating with the Romulans.
But Captain Picard didn't have the resources to devote to such an inquiry – especially when he knew that if the conspiracy truly reached as far as they suspected, they were powerless to try and take it down on their own.
Their evidence would be buried.
Such an investigation could cost them all their careers – possibly their lives.
Jean-Luc was no coward. Rather, he knew how to pick and choose his battles.
Now this latest incident left him pondering whether he should have taken a different course of action.
"I will prepare my report for Starfleet Command after checking in with Geordi," Data informed him. "It will be on your desk in the morning."
"Data, I'd like you to take your time on filing that report," Jean-Luc said.
He glanced over at the wall and sighed.
"In fact, I think it may be best if we were to report finding nothing at all," Picard said.
Data cocked his head to the side as he considered this request.
"You are hoping to test Starfleet's response," Data realised.
"Yes," Picard replied. "And let us hope, this is the end of it."
Down in Sickbay, Beverly was doing her best to keep the team comfortable as they tested Data's theory. In accordance with Captain Picard's orders, Beverly had stopped the intravenous fluids and nutrient-rich hyposprays intended to provide relief.
It was difficult because the team was starting to come around again. They were more lucid and had gained enough strength to converse and sit up – only to be informed they weren't permitted to eat.
"What I wouldn't do for a bacon butty right now," Miles grumbled. "Hell, I'd settle for combat rations."
"I'm so hungry that I'm certain I could eat through the entirety of Starfleet's strawberry yoghurt stockpile," Tasha remarked.
Beverly smirked as she administered a hypospray to Tasha's neck.
"This is just a minor pain relief to help with the headaches," Beverly explained. "I'm sorry. I know this is difficult."
As a medical professional sworn to protect her patients, it was hard to dish out this kind of tough love medicine. Beverly knew it was for the best. But a part of her felt like she was just standing by as they withered away.
"Couldn't you just put us to sleep?" Tasha asked.
Anything would be better than lying there trapped and hungry. Tasha had experienced this kind of pain before as a child. She had never expected it to occur again during her time in Starfleet.
Beverly shook her head.
"I'm worried that doing so will make it too difficult to monitor you," Beverly replied. "These suits are already interfering with our ability to get proper scans on your vitals. I want to keep you alert so we can continue to communicate – just in case anything goes wrong."
Tasha looked less than pleased.
"I know it's not you," Tasha assured her. "I just don't want to think about all the muscle I'm losing."
She threw her head back on her pillow and groaned.
"It took me months to bulk up for the tournament," Tasha grumbled. "All those hours on the holodeck wasted."
There was little Beverly could say to comfort Tasha. Because of the suit, she had no way to accurately assess the damage.
"We'll do everything we can," Beverly said.
"Doctor!" Nurse Ogawa shouted.
She was one cot over, tending to Worf.
Beverly looked up to see that Nurse Ogawa's eyes were wide with fear. She followed her line of sight and jumped backward off the edge of Tasha's cot.
A portion of the suit had come up and attempted to latch onto Beverly's hand. It was almost like a gooey black tentacle.
Beverly clutched her chest as she caught her breath.
They all watched with astonishment as the suit retracted and reformed around Tasha's wrist.
With a shaky hand, Beverly tapped her communicator.
"Crusher to Commander Data," Beverly said.
"We believe it was seeking a new host," Data advised.
Beverly was simultaneously curious and revolted. The entire medical staff was keeping a clear distance from the four cots along the wall.
That meant Worf, Tasha, Commander Riker, and Miles were all stuck – hungry and alone – without so much as the limited methods of comfort Beverly and her team had been able to provide.
"Maybe we can rig some kind of trap to lure the suit in?" Geordi suggested.
"What are you proposing?" Data inquired.
Any person they exposed to the suit would suffer the same fate. They couldn't take a chance putting anyone else at risk.
"Well, it lives to feed. I say we feed it," Geordi shrugged.
Data, Geordi, Beverly, and her medical team were watching from behind the safety of a forcefield.
Geordi and Data had rigged a secondary field that would encase the suit as soon as it left their bodies.
"You know this is torture, right?" Riker asked.
Geordi's idea to lure the suit away from their bodies involved placing a large piece of nutrient-enhanced replicated beef on a table near their cots.
Miles's mouth was watering in anticipation. Worf was in a deep state of meditation to try and calm his hunger pains.
Will Riker had resorted to wisecracks to occupy his mind.
Tasha was simply nauseas.
The sight of meat – particularly raw meat had always been nausea-inducing. On Turkana, meat was always something to be regarded with scepticism.
Animals that were typical livestock for Earth just didn't hold the same position on Turkana. Chickens and ducks were far more valuable for their eggs than they were for their meat. Goats and cattle were kept for the milk they produced.
Such animals were typically only butchered at the end of their natural lifespan.
Cats, rats, snakes, and insects were the usual source of protein. Cannibalism wasn't unheard of – and Tasha had learned at an early age to distrust anyone that offered meat as an incentive for work.
While the sight of a juicy cut of steak gave Commander Riker pleasant ideas about rubs and seasoning blends, it made Tasha want to hurl.
They waited for an agonising thirty minutes for any sign of movement. Wesley was on hand to monitor the biometric sensors he had in the suit.
"There's no change," Wesley reported.
"Maybe it just takes time," Geordi theorised.
"Or the nanocytes are capable of distinguishing between a live host and, well, a piece of meat," Beverly suggested.
As soon as Reg had gotten word that they crew were back, he'd been desperately trying to seek out Lieutenant La Forge and Data.
Barclay understood they were busy and under immense pressure – but he just had to speak with them. After several unsuccessful attempts to get an audience with them in the lab, chasing down Geordi on lifts, and even an appeal to Captain Picard, Reg had determined that he couldn't stand idly by.
It had taken him twenty minutes of building his confidence up in the mirror before he'd summoned the courage to march into Sickbay.
"Hey Reg," Geordi said as he stepped into the room.
"Hello," Barclay replied.
Assuming Mr Barclay had come to show support, Data was delighted to see him.
"Hello Lieutenant," Data said. "I am grateful that you have dropped by. It means a lot."
He had heard humans say that sort of thing to one another. It was far more concise than Data launching into a lengthy description of humanoid customs to show support during a medical crisis.
"Commander, Lieutenant La Forge. I need to speak with you," Reg announced.
"Now isn't really a good time," Geordi replied, shocked that Reg would drop by to push his project during the middle of a crisis.
Geordi turned back to the window to observe the four friends lying on the cots.
"We're kind of dealing with a situation," Geordi said in hopes that Barclay would get the hint.
"What about one of the medical training modules?" Beverly asked.
They had a number of specialised training tools that mimicked the functionality of human organs including the heart.
"Think that might entice them?" Beverly inquired.
"Data, Geordi, if I could just have a moment of your time," Reg tried again.
Geordi sighed and turned back to Reg.
"I'm kinda busy here," Geordi said.
He didn't mean to be rude, but he really didn't have time to listen to another project pitch.
Dejected, Reg turned to go as Beverly, Data, and Geordi debated the merits of using a medical training tool as bait or replicating or checking the exobiology lab.
"I do not believe it was right to test such a hypothesis with the bonobos," Data argued. "They are sentient beings."
While Data would be significantly more affected by the loss of Tasha, he could not permit himself to harm another innocent creature just to save a human.
The door slid open, and Reg stopped.
Every instinct in his mind was telling him to step out into the corridor and walk away. He wasn't confrontational and had already gone well outside of his comfort zone to get their attention.
But he couldn't do it.
Chief O'Brien was his friend – one of the only people that had ever been truly kind to him from the start. Barclay's relationship with Commander Riker had gotten off to a rough start – but they had come to respect one another in time.
Reg had even proven himself to Worf, earning the respect of the stoic Klingon after their encounter with Q.
Lieutenant Yar was alright by Reg. She was a good egg and had been both patient and kind. She always made an effort to include him in conversation. Reg also knew just how important she was to Data.
And Reg considered Data a true friend.
Steeling his nerves, Reg closed his eyes and took a breath.
Courage. Courage for my friends. Reg told himself.
He whipped around and marched right back over to the group.
"I need to speak with you," Reg declared.
No one listened. They were too caught up in their discussion.
Reg cleared his throat and tried again.
"I need to s-speak with you," Reg repeated.
"I'm not saying we can't try it. I'm just concerned about the setup time involved. The clock is ticking," Geordi argued.
"Is it possible to bypass the use of the-" Data began to argue.
"I have to speak with you!" Reg practically shouted.
Everyone froze.
"Am I hearing things or did Barclay just yell at them?" Riker whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
Reg's chest was heaving as he composed himself.
"Now you're going to listen to what I have to say. And when I'm through, if you want to write me up or throw me out of Starfleet then so be it," Reg said, shaking his finger at them. "But until I've said this."
Reg straightened up and adjusted his uniform, bracing himself for a dressing down. After all, he had just raised his voice to three superior officers.
But there was no anger.
"Mr Barclay?" Data prompted softly, encouraging him to continue.
"I-I-I think I know how to save them," Reg stammered.
"Here," Geordi said, handing Reg a cup of Raktajino.
Reg looked confused.
"It's for you," Geordi explained. "I know you like the Raspberry crème, so I made a run."
Reg was shocked.
No one ever brought him coffee.
"What is next, Lieutenant?" Data inquired.
They were all taking directions from Mr Barclay. This was his project – and after the way they had dismissed him, it only felt right that they let Reg take the lead in implementing it.
"Let's set up the secondary power source and start charging the emitters," Reg instructed.
"Right away," Data replied before turning back to the computer.
Over in the corner, Wesley was configuring the settings on Barclay's programme to integrate his biometric sensor readings from the suit. It would allow them to monitor if the plan would work.
Up in Sickbay, Beverly was administering a series of stimulants to help get the team on their feet. They would need to be transferred down to the lab for the final stage of Barclay's plan.
The challenge was in giving them enough to stabilise their systems without providing the nanocytes a reason to stay.
"This is a really great idea, Reg," Geordi said. "I'm sorry I didn't listen sooner."
Reg glanced up from his monitor and offered Geordi a small smile to demonstrate that he harboured no ill will.
"It's alright. You were busy," Reg replied.
"Is there a reason we have to do this together?" Worf grumbled.
Worf, Tasha, Miles, and Commander Riker were standing (sort of) in the lab's secure testing room. They were doing their best to stay upright – heavily aided by Beverly's stimulant.
However, the brain fog caused by dehydration and hunger was making it difficult for them to comprehend multi-step instructions.
And they were starting to sway.
"Just stand still," Beverly instructed. "You're doing great."
Working in tandem, Reg and the team had managed to convert the lab into a temporary holodeck.
Barclay's innovative programme was designed to allow testing of complex medical procedures, weapons, and atmospheric conditions on humanoid tissue without actually exposing the subject to the material.
It used the holodeck technology and matter replicator to create holographic synthetic tissue. But these were no ordinary illusions.
Barclay's programme meant they could interact with and observe real-time data that was transmitted back to his computer for analysis.
It was an ambitious project with enormous energy requirements.
Similar to Wesley's prototype suits, Reg relied on nanocytes to emulate the proper behaviour.
It was his hope that he could create a realistic target to tempt the nanocytes to leave their bodies thus deactivating the suits.
If all went according to plan, it meant the suits should just peel away from their bodies.
"You may feel a twinge of dizziness or instability when the suits deactivate," Wesley warned.
"And be advised, the sterilisation process will be bright," Reg added.
It was a necessary part of any medical procedure involving the use of the labs. In order to ensure there were no bacteria or other foreign contaminates, they were about to be blasted with a bright flash of UV light.
"Argh," Miles said, squeezing his eyes shut to block the blinding flash.
Tasha swayed and shook her head, doing her best to stay on her feet as the disorienting light stopped.
Reg tapped the screen to activate the next phase.
"We're not really sure what's going to happen. But if the suit begins to break away, don't try to stop it," Wesley encouraged.
"Do you believe the nanocytes are still influencing them?" Geordi asked.
According to Beverly, they'd mostly left the brain and neurological functions in favour of feeding on their heart, liver, and kidney tissue.
"I can assure you I want to be rid of this blasted thing!" Miles remarked.
"I just meant that, well," Wesley paused. "I can't be sure, but I think the suit may have fused with and consumed your uniforms."
Tasha's eyes went wide.
Riker grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at Worf.
"Again, is there a reason we need to do this together?" Worf protested.
"It's a one shot," Reg explained. "The nanocytes are adaptive. We try this once, they'll get wise, and it won't work a second time."
Worf muttered a Klingon curse under his breath.
"Guess I'll finally satisfy my curiosity if you've really got a Starfleet symbol inked on your-" Riker began to say.
"Avert your eyes," Tasha ordered, shooting him a glare.
There was a soft shimmering noise followed by a sickening splat.
Tasha clutched her side and choked back the urge to hurl as a massive organ materialised before them. To everyone's horror, it was beating.
"Excellent choice," Data remarked, praising Reg's creativity.
"What is that?" Geordi asked, mortified.
"Since they like heart muscle, I figured that replicating the heart of a blue whale would prove our best shot for luring the nanocytes away," Barclay explained.
"They do have the largest heart muscle of any known creature," Data chimed in.
For an agonising seventeen seconds, everyone watched with bated breath for any signs of movement.
"Hey, something's happening," Wesley said.
It wasn't visible to the naked eye yet, but Wesley could see it on his monitor. There was an increase in kinetic activity in the suit.
"I can definitely confirm they are excited," Geordi said, spying the change in temperature with his VISOR.
It wasn't long before the suit began to peel away, almost as if it were draining out from their ankles as it moved to consume the artificial heart on the other side of the room.
As soon as they were free, Data dropped a forcefield to encase the nanocytes before they discovered the deception.
"Gotcha!" Reg said, pumping his fist triumphantly.
As predicted, the sudden change left the team feeling hazy and delirious. Miles stumbled into the corner. Tasha braced herself against the wall behind her as she swayed.
Data was at her side in a flash, scooping her up inside a thermal blanket.
"Worf if I may just say one word-" Riker started to say.
"No you may not!" Worf snapped.
"Magnificent," Riker winked.
The loss of the suit and nanocytes had wreaked havoc on their body. Their thyroids were confused. They were unable to regulate their own body temperatures.
The four were back in Sickbay – under a mountain of thermal blankets and Beverly's watchful eye.
"It's going to take them time to recover," Beverly advised. "We're lucky we stopped it when we did."
They were emaciated.
Even Worf looked considerably drawn.
"I estimate they've lost nearly twenty-percent of their muscle mass, a quarter of their body fat," Beverly explained. "But I'm confident they'll bounce back."
Data had been at Tasha's bedside ever since they'd been freed.
"How are you feeling?" he inquired.
"Lousy," Tasha replied with a small smile.
She gave Data's hand a small squeeze.
"I'm sorry," Tasha apologised.
"While I appreciate the sentiment of such an apology, I am just grateful that you are safe," Data said.
He brushed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering longer than necessary just because he could.
She was exhausted. Her face was drawn. Even her smile seemed diminished. The rounded cheeks that lit up whenever she saw Data were now sunken and lacked their usual colour.
"Doctor Crusher believes you should get some rest," Data said. "But I will stay while you sleep."
Tasha smiled and shook her head.
"Go, you need to rest too," Tasha urged. "I'll be out of here in a few days."
"But you have been-" Data started to protest.
"Look, as much as I hate to admit it, this isn't my first round lying emaciated in Sickbay after my body's been riddled with parasites," Tasha remarked.
Data frowned.
"Believe me, this isn't half as bad as being laid up with malaria on G'kantal," Tasha said. "And let me tell you, weevil-filled hardtack and Tefla broth isn't what I consider comfort food."
G'kantal? Data thought.
Data leaned in close next to her ear.
"Tasha, I am uncertain if you are attempting to lighten the situation with humour or if you are delirious and at risk of divulging information about your time in covert operations," Data whispered. "But I believe that it would be best for you to rest now."
Data knew there would always be certain aspects of Tasha's life that she couldn't discuss – such was the nature of covert operations.
But he didn't want Tasha to wind up saying anything she might regret.
"Oh," Tasha replied in a hazy voice.
"Go to sleep," Data said.
Tasha closed her eyes and keened softly as Data ran his fingers through her hair. It wasn't long before she was resting comfortably.
Above, Jean-Luc found sleep elusive.
Captain Varley had not yet acknowledged his update. It was possible the Yamato had gone on silent running in order to try and avoid detection.
It wasn't easy to hide a Galaxy-class ship. But there were tactics that could make her harder to pinpoint.
Unable to rest, Captain Picard had retired to his desk to further study the evidence Data had gathered. His time inside the Romulan communications outpost had been brief. Regardless, Data had made good use of the time compiling relevant information.
A power cell. The device they suspected generated a cloaking field for the building. Upgraded disruptors. Shuttles.
It was evident that Romulan technology had advanced well beyond their understanding. Some of these pieces were at least a decade ahead of where Starfleet Command had placed the current level of Romulan technology.
In fact, as he reviewed the evidence, there was nothing to indicate the Romulans were the struggling, over-exerted empire that Starfleet intelligence had predicted.
Jean-Luc had no doubt that the issues of food insecurity and rampant poverty still existed for much of the Romulan population. Such issues had plagued the Romulan Star Empire for centuries.
The Romulans had always had a vision far beyond their borders. Espionage was to be expected. It was all part of the game.
Yet this communications outpost was far more sophisticated than Jean-Luc had expected.
Jean-Luc knew he would have to face the music and have a long-overdue conversation with Tasha regarding the suspected Romulan conspiracy she'd raised the alarm to months earlier.
Worst of all – the whole crew were now involved to a degree. There would have to be a briefing.
Captain Picard sighed and sat back in his chair, mulling over the dark thoughts that had penetrated his mind as he sipped on cuppa Earl Grey.
As he slowly came around to the idea that ignoring the threat would only lead down a path of devastation, Jean-Luc reflected on the words of his favourite bard.
Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste death but once.
Three days later, Worf, Tasha, Miles, and Commander Riker were thrilled to finally be discharged from Sickbay.
They still had a long road to recovery ahead of them. But their strength had returned enough for them to safely be on their own without observation and - if everything checked out - they would be cleared for light duty within a weeks' time.
Commander Riker was already planning a celebratory lunch for himself.
As much as Worf longed to hit the holodeck, Beverly had advised he should forgo any high intensity workouts for a while.
He would have to start small and build his strength back up a little at a time.
"As much as I didn't want to part with the suit, I sure am glad to be rid of it," Miles said.
They'd all experienced it – the delirium that came from such dehydration and hunger.
"It was beginning to affect the mind," Worf chimed in as he stepped into his boots.
"Agreed," Riker remarked as he threw on a casual jacket.
He paused and made a face as if to push away a bad thought.
"What is it?" Tasha asked.
Riker chuckled and shook his head.
"Nothing," he said.
"No, c'mon," Tasha pressed, grinning. "I mean, I was hearing voices. We all had our fair share of weird."
"I was dreaming of dancing sausages," Miles offered, hoping to make Riker comfortable. "In neat little rows like a kick line."
It had the desired effect.
"Alright, alright," Riker said.
He flopped down in a chair and pulled his boots over.
"When we were back there at the facility, well," Riker paused as he laced up his boots. "I could have sworn I saw you."
Riker glanced up at Tasha.
"Well I was there," she reminded him.
"No, like one of the Romulans. It was so real. She turned and," Riker shrugged and gestured. "I don't know. It was you."
Tasha involuntarily shuddered.
"Ew. Spooky," Tasha replied as a chill ran down her spine.
"Tell me about it," Riker said as Tasha helped pull him to his feet. "I'm just glad it's over."
"I suppose we'll have to postpone the fitting," Miles said.
As he slipped into his usual spot at the table, it was glaringly obvious just how much mass he'd lost.
"We'll figure it out," Keiko smiled.
She stepped over to the replicator and pulled a specially prepared dish from the temperature controlled statis field that had kept it warm.
"What's this?" Miles asked in surprise.
Keiko grinned and reached up to run her fingers through his curly hair.
"You're always talking about how much you miss your mum's coddle. I just thought you might like something familiar to help get your strength back," Keiko said.
Miles was stunned.
"I… but… how?" he asked.
His mother had been dead for years. Her recipe for her famous coddle – a staple of the O'Brien household for years – had died with her.
Miles and his siblings had all attempted to imitate the famous O'Brien coddle without success. In fact, it was a subject of great debate.
His sister, Siobhan, was a purist. She insisted the secret to mum's coddle was in keeping with the traditional seasonings of parsley, salt, and pepper only.
Meanwhile, his brother, Donal, was of the opinion that mum's coddle had included both sage and rosemary to compliment the flavour of the sausage.
Even Miles had tried his hand at replicating the recipe.
"How do you do it?" Miles asked as he sniffed at the air. "I've never been able to get the replicator to do it justice."
Keiko shrugged.
"I had some help," she explained. "And I didn't use a replicator."
Miles blinked in surprise.
"You…. you mean you actually cooked this?" Miles asked.
Keiko nodded as she ladled at bowlful and set it down in front of Miles.
"I got a recipe from Ensign Dunne. His family's from Sandymount, which I understand isn't all that far from Finglas," Keiko said.
"Aye," Miles nodded as he picked up his spoon.
"The onions, potatoes, and carrots are from my garden," Keiko went on. "The sausages and rashers are replicated obviously, but Data helped with that. He assured me they're closer in flavour than what you usually find."
Before diving in, Miles took the back of her hand and gave it a quick peck.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Miles said.
"I'm just glad you're back," Keiko replied. "Now eat up."
Miles carefully brought a spoonful of the delectable favourite to his lips. He closed his eyes and keened with approval, savouring the familiar taste of home.
On another deck, Data was savouring his own taste of home.
Or rather, a sight that he had come to adore.
They were in Tasha's quarters. Tasha had decided to skip the table in favour of nesting on her sofa. She was sitting cross-legged as she skimmed through the latest scores from the Alpha Quadrant Parrises Squares League.
Data had just finished his duty shift and returned for the evening.
"Tasha, there is something I must say," Data said.
Tasha froze and looked up, her cheeks full, a pair of chopsticks holding in place the noodles that were hanging out of her mouth.
Data thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
Without breaking eye contact, Tasha quickly stuffed them into her mouth. She chewed as quickly as she could and swallowed them in one gulp.
"Sorry," she said quietly.
As Data came to sit down beside her, Tasha quickly set her bowl on the coffee table and pushed it away. Data could tell she was embarrassed.
"I know what I did was wrong," Tasha acknowledged. "I betrayed your trust and-"
She paused and sighed.
"I understand we're not going to solve anything tonight. It's going to take a few sessions with Deanna," Tasha said.
"That is not what I wish to discuss," Data announced.
Tasha's posture slumped ever so slightly.
"Right," she said.
She reached for her tablet. Tasha swiped the screen, discarding the League scores as she skimmed through to find the appropriate document.
"I finished my application for the JAG programme. I'd really appreciate your feedback on it and-" Tasha stopped as Data took the tablet from her hands.
He set it down on the windowsill behind them.
Tasha braced herself for the worst. Her lower lip began to quiver, and Data could see her eyes were starting to well up.
"I know things have to change. And I know you've heard that before but please don't walk away when we're-"
Data gave her a quick peck on the lips to get her to stop talking.
"I don't understand," Tasha confessed.
"I do not wish you to give up your career," Data explained. "You are a gifted officer. And while I have no doubt that you would make a fantastic advocate for the JAG office, I do not wish to see you waste your talent."
He cupped Tasha's face with his left hand.
"We need you here," Data declared. "I need you here."
Tasha bit her lip.
"This ship, all of us are safer because of you. You do your job well," Data went on. "It makes you happy. And I want you to be happy."
Tasha didn't know what to say. It had been the last thing she'd expected. Data could sense she was confused. His eyes softened as he studied her face.
"You once asked me to promise that I never change for anyone, that I stay true to myself," Data reminded her. "How can I not ask the same of you?"
"You mean it?" Tasha asked.
She had to know, to be certain.
"This isn't just the moment, the relief of what's transpired talking?" Tasha pressed.
Her voice faltered and she dropped her gaze to her lap. Tasha took a shaky breath and then glanced back up at Data.
"You're not going to change your mind?" she asked.
"I do not ever want you to stop being the person I fell in love with," Data assured her.
"Data, I," Tasha trailed off.
"Do not speak - eat," Data instructed as popped one of the mochi into her mouth.
Tasha grinned as she worked to break down the chewy rice cake. Data had chosen it carefully from the spread of food on the coffee table as he knew it would keep her occupied for a while.
"Never change," Data assured her.
As she chewed away, Data pulled her close against his chest. He pressed a slow kiss on the top of her head, lingering there.
"I should probably take a shower. Would you like to help?" Tasha offered.
It was a two-fold offer. She truly did need to shower and was not yet convinced of her ability to keep her footing without assistance. But she also desperately longed to be close to Data.
"We will later. For now, please eat," Data urged. "For I have no desire to ever see you so thin again."
There was just one thing left to do.
As she nibbled on her dinner, Data took hold of Tasha's hand. He carefully slipped the ring back onto her finger.
"I do not wish for you to take this off again," Data said.
Data frowned as he observed her hand. She'd lost so much weight from the parasitic nanocytes that the ring was now uncomfortably loose. Tasha made a face.
"Sorry," she apologised.
"I will fashion a chain from the replicator for now," Data promised.
