Author's Note: Reading all of the comments from you guys makes me squee! I cannae tell you how much it literally makes my day to see people enjoy this story. Thank you for all of your support as we work through " The Complication ."
As noted in the last update, this story is not ending anytime soon.
It's hard to fathom that we're thirty chapters in now and that there is still so much to come.
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A man with haggard sandy blonde hair stepped out from the shadows.
"How did you find me?" he demanded.
"Are you Ramsey?" Commander Riker asked.
The man nodded.
"Come here," he said as he waved them over by the fire. "I'm sure you're cold. And if you aren't, you will be soon."
The team approached the fire.
Tasha had to admit, it certainly did feel nice to be closer to the warmth of the campfire. As she glanced around, she realised that Ramsey and his followers were living here.
For a moment, she told herself that she couldn't imagine living out here in this cold climate.
Tasha kicked herself internally.
You don't have to imagine. A little voice in her head reminded her.
Tasha could recognise the signs of camp life from her own experience of growing up on Turkana.
From time to time, there was shelter.
But shelter usually wasn't safe.
Especially for two young girls in a world where black market organ harvesting, slavery, and drug running were the most common 'industries.'
More often than not, the Yar sisters lived in conditions like this – camping out in caves, swamps, or on the windswept plains.
"Again, how did you find me?" Ramsey inquired.
Data explained that the process had been quite simple. As Angel One had no platinum, they had been able to attune the ship's sensors to target that element and speed up the search.
"My wings," Ramsey said wistfully. "I only kept them for their sentimental value."
He unclipped the wings from his lapel and looked down at them bitterly.
"A reminder of the life I left behind," he went on.
Judging by the conditions at the camp, Tasha estimated there had to be between thirty and forty people living there – including children.
"Where are the other survivors, Ramsey?" she asked.
He hesitated, uncertain of whether or not he could trust these Starfleet personnel.
"They've got to be close," Tasha added. "I can see your camp has children."
Tasha knelt down and picked up a toy from the ground. It was a crudely made doll – sewn from scraps and stuffed with straw.
"We're here to help you," Tasha assured him.
Ramsey kicked the dirt back and forth.
"They're nearby," Ramsey confessed. "Packing, as a matter of fact, since we can no longer remain here."
Deanna eyed Ramsey suspiciously. She could sense no feelings of relief or enthusiasm.
In fact, all of the expected feelings associated with rescue were absent.
All Deanna could pick up on was an overwhelming mix of suspicion, resentment, and fear.
The Counsellor decided it would be best to confront the discrepancy directly.
"Seven years on an alien planet and I sense no anticipation," she commented. "No excitement about being rescued."
"What is it that you think you're rescuing me from?" Ramsey asked incredulously. "My shipmates and I have been here nearly a decade. We have families and children. This is our home."
Ramsey scratched the back of his head and took a swig from a mug of homebrewed ale.
He stepped over to a table and grabbed a series of wooden mugs.
Tapping into a rudimentary keg, he poured them each a glass and passed them around.
Data sniffed the liquid a few times before bringing the cup to his lips to take a taste.
It was harsher than most of the liquids he'd tried aboard the Enterprise , but not entirely unpleasant.
It had a full, smoky quality with hints of oak casking.
Ramsey explained that the crew of the Odin had spent months drifting until they had reached Angel One. Upon their arrival, the planet had seemed like an Eden. The men were happy to work to earn their keep and eager to assimilate to the culture.
However, it had soon become apparent that they were being treated as if they had no rights. They weren't permitted to choose their own careers or partners. They were denied the ability to earn income and found themselves at the mercy of the council.
The men had gotten involved in a movement known as the Angel One Equality Movement. It was a group that had existed long before the arrival of the Odin survivors. However, it had never managed to get much traction in such an entrenched society.
Ramsey hadn't sought a leadership role.
Yet, his experience as someone who had grown up free of Angel One's culture, he had quickly become a leading voice for change.
But after the Great Crackdown, they had been forced to flee to the wilderness. Angel One's orbital position left few hours of daylight. Farming was difficult and the winters were long. The harsh conditions meant that life was a daily struggle.
"None of which is your concern any longer, Mister Ramsey," Tasha assured him. "Call in the others, please. It's time to leave."
Ramsey looked aghast.
"Lieutenant, we're not going anywhere," Ramsey stated. "This is our home. And as tough as life is here, we intend to fight for it. We have a responsibility to fight to make it better."
His words hit Tasha particularly hard.
There had been a time where Tasha had felt the same way about Turkana.
"We can resettle you and your families on a Federation colony of your choosing where life won't be a struggle," Tasha promised. "I know it's hard to leave your home behind, but on a Federation colony you and your children can find a better life."
Ramsey shot her a look.
"No offense, Lieutenant ," Ramsey scoffed. "But you don't have a clue what it's like to be in a place like this and know you can make it better. You could never understand the obligation we feel to fight for our home. For our children."
Tasha bit her lip.
"You'd be surprised," Deanna said, stepping in.
The Counsellor could pick up on the emotions radiating out from Tasha. Ramsey's words had cut deep into a wound that Tasha had long ago suppressed.
Commander Riker decided to try another approach.
"Mr Ramsey, we've given assurances to Mistress Beata and the Council that we would take you with us," Riker explained.
"Mistress Beata be damned!" Ramsey shouted. "Her wish is not my command, and neither is yours. You can't force us to go!"
"Mr Ramsey is correct," Data advised.
Tasha closed her eyes in frustration.
She knew Data was right. He was always right.
"The Odin was not a starship. He is not Starfleet personnel, and the crew is not bound by the Prime Directive," Data went on. "If he and the others wish to remain, there is absolutely nothing we can do about it."
Ramsey took another swig of his homemade liquor.
"Look, I know you think you're helping us, but we want to stay," Ramsey argued.
He glanced back toward a rock formation that appeared to function as a passage in and out of the campsite.
"Why don't you stay for a while," Ramsey suggested. "Meet our families. Give us a chance to show you why we can't leave."
The campfire was roaring, sending sparks high into the night's sky.
Despite the bleak conditions of their surroundings, Ramsey's group was certainly a lively bunch. There was music and singing, drinks being passed around, and children playing in the dirt.
Tasha recognised some of the games and mused that childhood in worlds like this must not vary much. Some of the children were drawing shapes in the dirt with sticks, another group was chasing a homemade hoop around, and there was a gathering of older children playing marbles with polished stones.
Tasha had shot a few rounds with them – displaying her prowess for such a skill – and putting Commander Riker to shame.
All in all, it seemed Ramsey's group was truly content with their life.
"Oh no, I shouldn't," Tasha said as Ramsey filled her mug with another round of the homemade liquor.
Ramsey insisted.
"We can't take it with us," Ramsey explained. "Might as well use it up!"
Tasha nodded in understanding.
"Where will you go?" she asked.
Ramsey stood up and waved for her to follow. They wove through the crowd around the campfire and strolled out to a ledge that lined the bluff.
"We'll take that pass higher up into the mountains," Ramsey described.
He pointed off into the distance to where a saddle point broke the line of the nearby mountain range.
"It will be rough with winter coming," Ramsey went on. "But it's safer than the lowlands. The Council has a tendency to send workers out for timber down there during the winter. We can't risk the exposure."
Tasha understood completely. During her own childhood on Turkana, she'd moved around plenty to keep ahead of season changes, shifting tribal conflicts, and the war.
"You just gonna stand there or you gonna help?" one of Ramsey's men said.
He threw a pack at Ramsey's feet full of carabiner clips, equipment, and rope.
Tasha handed Ramsey her mug.
"Allow me," she said as she picked up the rope.
Wrapping the tag end around the bight, she began to pass it through the loops and tighten it to the carabiner clip.
"Lieutenant, thanks but we need to-" Ramsey stopped as Tasha finished.
She smiled.
"How did you know to tie that with a poacher's knot?" Ramsey asked.
Tasha shrugged.
"I grew up like this," Tasha replied vaguely.
"Where?" Ramsey pressed.
A part of Tasha had always been embarrassed about the planet of her birth. Turkana was such a backwater by Federation standards that there were certain negative stereotypes associated with its people.
Tasha had learned quickly how to code switch between her own upbringing and the more civilised expectations of most humans and humanoid species.
For all her efforts, there were still many cultural references that went right over her head.
She surmised it might be part of the reason she'd become friends with Data so quickly when he first joined the Enterprise. Like her, he was a child of a different world with an unusual upbringing.
Her personal unease aside, there was something about Ramsey that told Tasha she could trust him. He had a genuine quality about himself.
"Turkana," Tasha answered honestly. "It's a wee nothing in the Zalkon sector."
Ramsey shook his head and blinked in surprise.
"No kidding, eh?" Ramsey asked in disbelief.
His face broke out into a broad grin.
"I'm from Nasreldine," Ramsey informed her.
Tasha clapped her hand over her mouth and laughed.
Nasreldine was one of the closest planets to Turkana – only about thirty lightyears away. It was about a ten-day journey on a typical small ship with basic warp capabilities.
While it wasn't nearly as bad off as Turkana, Nasreldine was certainly a frontier planet. Life wasn't easy. It was fairly barren. Most people lived in scattered settlements. It lacked the war that had plagued Turkana – and was considered a Federation colony – but most people still scraped out a harsh existence farming, mining, or trading.
In fact, Nasreldinian traders were a fairly common sight on Turkana.
Before the cost of leaving had become unreachable to most, a number of lucky Turkanans had immigrated to Nasreldine in hopes of a better life. While it wasn't easy, it was stable.
"How did you escape?" Ramsey asked. "And what the hell are you doing in Starfleet?"
Since the crackdown, generally the only Turkanans that escaped were mercenaries for hire, sex workers, or incredibly wealthy traders.
"That's…uh," Tasha paused as she struggled to formulate a good answer. "That's a long story."
She scratched the back of her head awkwardly and shifted from side to side.
Ramsey didn't need her to elaborate. He understood well enough.
"I gotcha," he replied.
He handed her mug back to her.
"Cheers," Ramsey said warmly as they toasted.
They returned back to the main campsite and joined the rest of the group. Commander Riker was still keen to play marbles with the kids and Data was curious about the indigenous fauna.
Tasha sat down on the ground next to Deanna and rested her head back against the rocky wall.
"You're feeling ashamed," Deanna commented. "You have no reason to. Your response to Beata was perfect for diffusing the situation."
"It's not that," Tasha admitted.
Deanna turned her head to the side and looked at Tasha.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Deanna asked.
Tasha took a deep breath.
"Not tonight," she replied with a yawn.
The two sat in silence for a while watching the firelight dance.
"I wish we could take them with us," Tasha commented as she watched the parents begin to gather up the children for bedtime.
They would have a long march tomorrow and would need the rest.
"To tell you the truth, you and Will are a lot better at this diplomacy than I am," Tasha confessed. "I don't know if we can convince Beata to change her mind."
Deanna's brow furrowed.
"Tasha, our mission is to rescue the Odin survivors," Deanna reminded her. "Not to interfere with the structure of government on Angel One."
"It's not right," Tasha remarked. "None of it is."
Before Deanna could discuss the issue with Tasha, one of Ramsey's men approached them with a stack of rough spun blankets.
"It's not much but out here anything helps," he said as he tossed them to the two women.
"Thank you," Tasha said.
She meant it.
Tasha understood just how rare their resources must be – sharing was an act of community and one that likely came at the sacrifice of someone else sharing.
The Security Chief also knew that Deanna was accustomed to far better accommodations than a cave floor. Despite the Counsellor's persuasion toward adventure and Westerns, Tasha knew Deanna had never actually spent a night in conditions like this outside of a holodeck.
Even camping on Betazed was incredibly tame – there were no dangerous creatures, severe weather, or less than ideal temperatures.
Deanna shivered and Tasha handed her three of the blankets.
"Data and I can share," Tasha said before quickly adding. "Strictly in a professional sense."
Deanna chuckled.
Tasha looked across the campsite and spied Commander Riker sitting near one of the camp's women. Based on their body language, it was evident the conservation was flirty.
Deanna could sense it made Tasha uncomfortable and she suspected it was out of concern for Deanna's own feelings.
"Tasha, I don't mind," Deanna said.
"Hmm?" Tasha replied, feigning ignorance.
Deanna leaned in close to her friend.
"Things are pretty open between us," Deanna explained.
"Oh," Tasha responded.
It wasn't a particularly shocking revelation – the Riker/Troi relationship had been a subject of much curiosity for the crew. Tasha knew that Will and Deanna were very close friends – occasional lovers – but always friends.
"Although I will confess, I was hoping he'd come over here and keep me warm tonight," Deanna admitted before teasing. " Strictly professional of course."
Tasha whacked Deanna playfully for throwing her own words back at her.
Will Riker did indeed return to his Imzadi – just as he always did.
The central fire was mostly embers now. The light was dim aside from a soft glow emanating from the middle of the campsite.
Most of the people were fast asleep on makeshift bedrolls spread out across the rocky terrain.
There was a guard posted to keep watch.
Tasha was sitting a few metres away from where Will and Deanna were curled up against one another, wrapped tightly in the blankets that Ramsey's group had provided them.
She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and was sitting with her back against the rock wall.
It was dark, but Tasha's eyes were used to it.
More attuned than her sight was her sense of hearing.
She heard the shuffle of footsteps on the dirt path before she could see a tall figure approaching.
Squinting, she managed to make out the form's familiar strict posture.
A moment later, Data sat down next to her.
He'd wandered off earlier, keen to inspect the area and she had been waiting for his return since.
"You should be asleep," Data whispered.
"I'm in command, remember?" Tasha smiled.
She swung the blanket over her shoulders and moved to cover the two of them.
"I do not require protection from the elements," Data reminded her.
His system could identify that it was about three degrees Celsius. He knew that humans required protective cold weather gear at that temperature.
"We'll share," Tasha said as she straightened it out over the top of them.
"Tasha-" Data protested.
She stopped and looked back at him.
"We'll share," she contended as she raised her eyebrows in a manner to indicate that Data should drop it.
"Of course," Data responded.
Tasha glanced over at Will and Deanna before resting her head back against Data's chest.
"I suppose we don't get to see these stars often," Tasha commented as she gazed up at night's sky.
"That is correct," Data replied softly. "By my calculation, during our time on the Enterprise this would be the first time we have seen this particular set of celestial objects due to its proximity to the Neutral Zone."
Even with the familiar rise and fall of Data's chest underneath her, sleep did not come easy to Tasha.
"Do you think the Romulans really are looking for a fight?" Tasha asked.
It was a subject they had discussed before many times in both their personal and professional roles.
For the last few years, the Romulans had been carefully increasing their presence along the Neutral Zone border with both the Federation and the Klingon Empire.
In the last year, the escalation had increased rapidly. Federation sensors had picked up evidence of numerous suspected intelligence gathering missions and they seemed to have their spies implanted in all levels of Starfleet.
Worst of all, the Border War with the Cardassians had left Federation resources stretched thin on this side of the quadrant.
The Romulan Empire knew this, and Tasha's worst fear was that they would exploit that weakness.
The war drums were growing louder, and it left many feeling uneasy.
"I theorise there is a twenty-one-point seven percent chance the Romulan fleet will initiate an aggressive action against the Federation," Data shared. "A thirty-four-point five likelihood they will attempt to draw us into making the first aggressive move."
Tasha sighed. That was generally the Romulan pattern.
"And a forty-three-point eight percent chance they will be deterred by our fleet and disperse," Data finished.
Data had gathered from their numerous discussions that Tasha was not keen to see action against the Romulans. It was a welcome change from her usual 'charge in headfirst' approach to life.
"Let's hope so," Tasha said.
She shivered against the cold.
A moment later she felt Data's arms wrap around her.
"Data," she whispered.
"I believe we can trust both Commander Riker and Counsellor Troi," he replied.
Tasha wasn't going to argue with him on that point.
Data figured it was late enough and dark enough that he could risk it.
And Tasha wasn't about to complain.
"I mean it, Data," Tasha said, her voice tainted with worry.
She couldn't put words to it, but Tasha had an unsettling feeling about the Romulans.
"What is wrong?" Data asked as he felt her tense.
"I don't know," Tasha answered truthfully. "I just get this weird feeling about being around the Neutral Zone."
It wasn't the first occasion that Tasha had felt this way.
Whenever she'd been sent on missions involving possible Romulan activity, Tasha had gotten queasy.
"I suppose I've just heard enough horror stories about Romulan attacks that I'm feeling nervous," Tasha shrugged.
Data had heard the same stories.
"Romulan attacks are usually swift and brutal," Data noted.
It was a legitimate attempt to ease her fears. Tasha was a direct person and Data knew she would appreciate honesty.
"Based on my understanding of the last one hundred and fifty years of Romulan behaviour, there is only a twelve-point three percent chance they would take survivors," Data explained.
For some reason, this did not reassure Tasha.
Rather, she felt her throat grow tight.
She swallowed hard.
"I would never want to be captured by Romulans," Tasha confessed in a strange, faraway voice. "I'd rather die."
"Typical Romulan behaviour is to keep prisoners alive for three to six months to gather any relevant information," Data went on. "Once that is completed, prisoners are executed swiftly."
Data paused.
"Romulans are exceptionally prejudiced toward humans," Data finished. "I can theorise no circumstances under which they would keep a prisoner alive beyond their usefulness as an information source."
"Well, at least there's that," Tasha said darkly. "I can't imagine anything worse than being held captive by the Romulans."
Tasha shuddered – not from the cold - but rather the thought of Romulan captivity.
She couldn't explain it, but the idea always sent a chill down her spine.
Data held her tighter and brushed a soft kiss on the top of her head.
The next morning, Data woke Tasha shortly before 06:00.
It was still dark – the sun on Angel One would not rise for another several hours.
However, Ramsey's camp needed to get a move on in order to reach the most dangerous part of the mountain pass during daylight.
To Tasha's surprise, Mistress Ariel – one of the Council members – was none other than Ramsey's wife. She had shown up during the dead of night prepared to bug out with the rest of them.
Ariel had been a secret supporter of Ramsey's cause for years.
"Well, that explains why he was expecting us," Deanna commented.
As the away team helped Ramsey's camp load up the last of their gear, Tasha checked in with the Bridge.
"Yar to Enterprise ," she said as she tapped her communicator.
Geordi answered and it broke Tasha's heart.
He sounded miserable.
"Two thirds of the crew are down. We've got more sick than we have beds for," Geordi advised. "And the latest from the Neutral Zone Outpost is that more Romulan vessels have been detected converging on the area."
"Acknowledged," Tasha responded.
She explained that they would need to return to the Capital city to inform Beata's council that Ramsey had refused to leave.
"It may take some explaining on our part," Tasha told him. "They sure won't be pleased."
As soon as they were done, they would radio the Enterprise to beam them aboard.
"The quarantine notwithstanding, you're going to need us," Tasha said.
Geordi knew she was right. The situation on the Enterprise was growing more dire by the minute.
"Whatever you have left to do, I suggest you do it on the double, Tasha," Geordi exclaimed. "We've got a real medical emergency brewing up here."
"Standby to transport us back to the city," Tasha replied.
She turned to Ramsey and gave him a warm handshake.
"Goodluck out there," she said as she bid them farewell.
They were just about to depart when a group of security forces from the Capital city swarmed their location.
They were outgunned and outnumbered.
"Hands up," one the security officers ordered.
Tasha took her hand off her phaser and raised them in the universal sign of surrender.
"We were no harm to anyone!" Ramsey shouted as he turned back to Tasha bearing a look of utter betrayal. "How could you do this to us?"
Before Tasha could answer, the lead security officer spoke.
"Mistress Beata does not need the technology of the Federation to follow Council member Ariel sneaking out to join her husband," she informed the group.
Ramsey closed his eyes in despair.
They had taken a huge risk in getting Ariel appointed to the Council. But at the time, it had seemed like a smart move in order to further the Equality Movement's agenda.
"Traitor," the lead officer spat as she shoved Ariel.
Suddenly, Tasha's combadge rang out.
"La Forge to away team," Geordi coughed. "Where are you?"
Tasha looked to the security officer for permission to respond.
"Away team, come in," Geordi demanded.
"Please, let me respond," Tasha begged.
The head security officer sneered.
"So you can fire upon us?" she said in an accusatory tone.
"I promise you that will not happen," Tasha said in an attempt to ease the tension.
The head of Angel One's security informed the away team that they had orders to arrest them.
"Away team, respond or we will energise," Geordi said.
Tasha could hear how tired he was in the tone of his voice.
There was a brief pause as Tasha looked pleadingly to the security officer.
"Transporter room, lock onto their signals and pull them out of there," Geordi ordered.
Data knew they couldn't wait any longer. He knew that it was time to take a risk.
"Belay that order," Data said as he tapped his combadge in defiance.
Tasha took a breath, thankful that Data hadn't been shot.
For his part, Data had weighed the pros and cons of the situation. Based on his study of Angel One's legal system, Data was fairly certain the punishment for Ramsey's crime was death.
He could not, in good conscience, permit that to occur.
Furthermore, he knew that Tasha would agree.
He speculated that with their limited knowledge of Starfleet, fear of retaliation would prevent them from taking any action.
"Away team, come in," Geordi said urgently. "What is going on down there?"
"We've hit a snag," Tasha responded. "Sit tight."
Aboard the Bridge, Geordi was sweating profusely. This didn't bode well. It sounded like they were in trouble.
"If you're in trouble, we're going to pull you out," Geordi said after a moment.
"Not unless you wish to violate the prime directive," Data warned.
There was a nervous energy hanging around the Bridge and the most recent update from Angel One had only amplified it.
"What on Earth do you think is going on down there?" Geordi speculated.
"Trouble," Worf grumbled. "Source unknown."
"C'mon Data," Geordi mumbled to himself.
Data was likely the only one that would be unimpacted by the virus.
It was absolutely essential that they get him back aboard the Enterprise as quickly as possible.
Geordi could feel he was fading.
Whatever the mysterious virus was, it caused immense pressure on his sinuses. He felt fatigued and the headache and pressure was a distraction.
Geordi knew he was in no condition to be commanding a ship with over thousand lives during a crisis in the Neutral Zone.
"I think I may sneeze," Worf said suddenly.
"A Klingon sneeze?" Geordi asked.
Worf turned around and frowned.
"Only kind I know," he retorted.
A moment later, Geordi watched as Worf rocked back and forth in preparation for the oncoming sneeze.
When it hit, it was powerful – spraying the Operations console with a thick coat of Klingon snot.
"I'm sorry, sir," Worf apologised. "I believe I am getting sick."
"I'm sure half the ship knows that by now," Geordi commented as he watched Worf grab a sanitation cloth from the emergency pack on the conn.
Geordi may have been struggling, but he knew enough to understand it was time to check in with sickbay again.
Out of respect for Doctor Crusher, he had tried to keep his check-ins brief and spaced out.
As Chief Engineer, Geordi understood personally how important it was for others to stay out of his way during an emergency.
It had been over an hour since their last check-in and Geordi reasoned it was time for an update.
"Bridge to Doctor Crusher," Geordi said. "What's the situation?"
"We've identified another two hundred and nineteen infected patients in the last hour," Beverly informed him. "Bringing the total number of infected to over twelve hundred individuals."
At the very least, none of the cases had proven fatal.
Yet.
Beverly knew it was only a matter of time before the dehydration and infection spread through the body. Though there had been no fatalities, there were a number of serious cases requiring advanced medical attention.
She understood that as the hours ticked by, those numbers would only grow.
"Where are we at on an inoculate?" Geordi inquired.
There was a pause.
"There's been no change on that," Beverly replied in frustration. "I can't even identify how it spreads."
"Then I'll leave you to it," Geordi acknowledged.
"Thank you, Geordi," Beverly replied in heartfelt sincerity.
It took over an hour to reach the Capital city.
The away team was marched along with the rest of Ramsey's camp as prisoners of the Council.
They were led in through the city walls to the main Government building where Beata's Council chambers were located.
"You gave me your solemn word," Beata hissed as they were brought before her. "You promised you would take them with you."
One of the security officers gripped Tasha's bicep and forced her to step forward.
"And then we find you cavorting with them?" Beata went on. "Conspiring to overthrow my government under the guise of peace."
"Mistress Beata, we have no intentions of challenging your laws," Tasha said in a calm manner. "We cannot force the Odin survivors to leave with us. We remained last night in an attempt to convince them to join us, but they've chosen to remain."
Beata's eyes narrowed, not fully trusting the away team's excuse.
"I'm sorry," Deanna chimed in. "There is nothing else we can do."
"I'm sorry, too," Beata said with conviction. "Since you refuse to take them, I have no choice but to order the execution of every traitor."
She paused and took a deep breath as if she were struggling with the next statement.
"The execution of each traitor and their families," Beata finished feigning a confidence she didn't feel.
Beata was by no means sympathetic to Ramsey's cause, but she had no desire to order their deaths.
It was a waste of life, and it would only seek to further resentment against her government.
But Beata was bound by the law.
This hesitation did not go unnoticed by Data.
"And you ," Beata said as she turned back to Tasha.
Pursing her lips, Beata crossed her arms as she sized up the Lieutenant.
"This is clear evidence of your attempt to overthrow me," Beata alleged. "Under our law, I have no choice but to order your execution as well."
Tasha stiffened in shock.
"We have participated in no attempt to overthrow you," Data said, inserting himself in the conversation.
It may have been lost on the others, but the away team members could hear the panic in Data's voice.
Deanna could sense the fear and anger radiating from the Second Officer.
Data was at a loss for how to counter this accusation.
The legal system on Angel One was quite simple – the Elected Mistress had the right to serve as the sole vote in issuing justice. The concept of trials, neutral panels, or juries were all foreign.
"We'll execute you at dawn with the others," Beata ruled.
She turned to the rest of the away team.
"We have no intention of upsetting your Federation," Beata explained. "But we want to send a message that our rule of law must be respected."
Beata sauntered over to Data.
"As such, we will keep the android," she declared before turning to Will and Deanna. "The two of you will be released after you witness our reaffirmation of Angel One's moral imperative."
Tasha rolled her eyes. Her head was reeling.
"Is that the civilised word for murder on this world," Tasha said, her words dripping with sarcasm.
It was not, perhaps, the most diplomatic of statements to make.
But whenever she felt cornered, Tasha had a tendency to deflect her fears with sarcasm and humour.
"We didn't do anything!" Riker said hotly.
"Silence," Beata snapped.
"They're telling the truth!" Ramsey shouted from the back of the room.
He pushed forward through his camp members until he reached the front of the room.
"They're telling the truth," he repeated in a much softer voice.
Beata looked furious.
One of the senior council members stepped forward.
"I believe them," she stated simply.
To the away team's relief, several of the other women on the council began to nod.
"Indeed, we have seen no evidence of treason from these visitors," a second woman said, daring to speak out.
A third woman, Beata's second-in-command stepped forward to address the room.
"Ramsey is many things," she said. "But a liar is not one of them."
Back aboard the Enterprise, the situation had not improved.
The door slid open to Captain Picard's quarters and Beverly found him sitting up in bed.
She had applied a medicated rub to ease breathing a few hours earlier, but now she was back with a second attempt to keep the symptoms in check.
The Doctor took a seat on the bed and poured a thick, sludgy liquid into a small bowl.
"It looks horrible, tastes worse, and is absolutely guaranteed to help with that congestion," Beverly warned him.
With her help, Captain Picard gripped the sides of the bowl and tenderly took a drink.
He sputtered as the warm liquid hit the back of his throat.
It was soothing, but Beverly had been correct in her assessment.
The medicinal drink tasted like the one the worst things Captain Picard had ever ingested. It was thick, and warm, and contained a disgusting blend of spices that he postulated likely had wonderful healing properties – but were never intended to be mixed.
"What is it?" Picard managed to choke out.
Beverly grinned as she took the bowl and set it on his nightstand.
"Grandma Howard's all-around herbal remedy for congestion," Beverly notified him.
She helped ease him back down onto his pillow.
"Works pretty swell for hangovers too," she added with a wink.
To her delight, that earned a weak smile from the Captain.
She felt his forehead with the back of her hand.
He was still warm.
Suddenly, Beverly caught a whiff of something familiar, but she couldn't place the scent.
"Are you wearing cologne?" she inquired.
The Doctor took another deep breath.
"I smelled it earlier," Beverly pondered aloud. "Something Klingon."
It was infuriating that she couldn't identify the source. It was on the very tip of her tongue.
"Lieutenant Worf and I detected the same scent when we bumped into your son at the Holodeck," Picard said in a raspy voice.
A lightbulb clicked on inside Beverly's head.
"It's that small," she said breathlessly. "That's how the virus travels!"
It all made sense now. The virus must be an airborne particle. The sweet, familiar Klingon scent inspired deep inhalation as people no doubt tried to identify it.
Once inside the body, it likely mutated into the virus.
"I have work to do!" Beverly said feeling inspired.
Lost in her own thoughts, she jumped up off the bed and rushed out of the Captain's quarters.
"You are excused, Doctor," he wheezed before falling back against his pillow.
After a brief meeting of the ruling Council, it was decided that Beata would permit the away team's release.
After checking in with Geordi, they learned that Doctor Crusher had a working theory on an inoculate.
It was the breakthrough they had been waiting for.
"More urgently, the Neutral Zone Outpost has radioed that the Romulans are closing on their location," Geordi informed them.
The most recent intelligence report showed the Romulans were focusing on the Outpost at Calder II – likely because the Enterprise had failed to arrive.
It reinforced Tasha's suspicion that there was a Romulan spy, or spies, aboard their ship.
The four officers that comprised the away team huddled together for a short conference.
"The USS Berlin isn't going to be able to hold out against a contingent of Romulan warships," Riker said.
"It is likely that my synthetic nature will be unaffected by the virus," Data offered. "However, I will still be capable of passing it on to others."
Wordlessly, they all understood Data was going to have to return to the ship. They would need him on the Bridge.
Tasha radioed the Bridge to ask for an update on the situation in Tactical and Engineering.
"Hang on," Geordi said.
The four members of the away team exchanged a concerned look.
"Sorry," Geordi said breathlessly a moment later. "It's just Worf and me on the Bridge."
Things were much worse than they had initially feared.
It took Geordi almost two minutes to reach the Operations panel for an update.
"Alright, Chief O'Brien is holding down Engineering. I had to pull Jeffords and Octavian down there after Gomez collapsed," Geordi shared. "And let's see…Tactical. I've got, uh, Benson."
There was a momentary pause as Geordi checked the screen again to ensure he'd read it correctly.
"Yeah," Geordi said with uncertainty. "Uh, it's Benson."
'Benson?' Riker mouthed silently.
"Lieutenant Benson is an archaeologist," Data thought aloud.
Tasha looked up at Commander Riker.
Deanna's eyes grew wide as she sensed an idea formulating in Tasha's mind.
"But you'll be infected too," Deanna protested.
"The virus appears to have a one-to-two-hour incubation period," Data noted. "Given the lack of crew available, even that limited amount of time will be most beneficial to preparing the ship for a Romulan attack."
That sealed it for Tasha.
"I know you're technically the senior officer sir, but Captain Picard placed me in charge of this away mission," Tasha said. "And right now the situation down here calls for a diplomat."
"And the Enterprise needs a Tactical officer," Riker said, finishing her thought.
He gave her a short salute.
"Get the Enterprise to the Neutral Zone before it's too late," Riker ordered.
Data and Tasha nodded.
"Two to beam aboard," Tasha notified the ship. "Energise."
As soon as they materialised on the transporter pad, Tasha was struck with a sense of shock.
The person operating the transporter console was none other than Professor Keiko Ishikawa – a civilian member of the crew. Beyond that, Keiko looked like she was about to collapse.
"Keiko?" Data asked out of concern.
"I'm fine, go," she waved them off.
Data and Tasha wasted no time in reaching the closest lift.
"Bridge," Data commanded as soon as the turbolift doors closed.
"I'll radio as soon as I reach the torpedo bay," Tasha informed him. "I'll load forward decks eighteen and nineteen first and then I'll get started on aft decks thirty-six through forty."
Data looked down at Tasha, perplexed.
"You will accompany me to the Bridge first to assess the situation," Data advised.
"Sir, with all due respect we don't have time," Tasha cautioned. "I'm not an android. It's going to take me time to get them loaded."
She didn't want to argue with him, but Tasha knew she was right.
"Commander Riker ordered us to reach the Neutral Zone before it is too late," Data began.
"Yeah, I was there," Tasha said indignantly.
"I have computed the amount of time it will take to reach out destination and the length of time the Neutral Zone Outpost and the USS Berlin can withstand a Romulan attack and deducted our maximum speed," Data explained. "That leaves Commander Riker and Counsellor Troi forty-eight minutes to find a way to spare Ramsey and his followers."
Tasha pulled Data for a quick kiss.
"So clever," she said as she flashed him a million-watt smile.
As soon as they stepped onto the Bridge, Geordi and Worf breathed a sigh of relief.
"Oh thank heavens," Geordi said with a weak smile.
"Are you two alright?" Tasha asked as she helped Geordi out of the Command Chair.
"No," Geordi responded.
He closed his eyes and shook his head, attempting to steady his breathing to stop from falling over.
"But we're all that's left," Geordi added.
"Put him at Operations," Data ordered. "Lieutenant Worf, please remain at the helm."
Worf was sick, but not nearly as bad as Geordi.
His Klingon blood seemed to offer some limited immunity protection against the worst of the virus.
Data took a seat in the Command chair and ordered Tasha to open a channel to the away team.
"Data to away team," he said as soon as the signal was present.
"Riker here," Commander Riker answered, sounding thoroughly upset. "Data, I gave you a direct order to get to the Neutral Zone immediately. Explain the delay."
"To be precise, Commander, you ordered us to reach the Neutral Zone before it is too late," Data replied.
He went on to explain the loophole he had found in Commander Riker's wording.
"Which leaves you forty-three minutes to find a solution to save Ramsey and the others," Data finished.
"Thank you," Commander Riker responded genuinely. "Thank you for following my orders so explicitly, Data."
Data was pleased with himself.
He couldn't see Tasha behind him at the Tactical station, but he knew she was beaming with pride.
"Lieutenant Yar," Data ordered. "Please begin a ship wide sweep of personnel files cross referencing academy training and run it against the list of confirmed patients. I want to know who we've got left to run this ship."
"Aye, sir," Tasha responded as she set to work.
"A moment of your time," Riker asked tentatively as he approached Beata.
On Deanna's advice, Riker had been the one to step forward.
"Yes?" Beata replied sharply.
"May I have a private audience with you?" Riker requested.
Beata snapped her fingers and the room cleared.
"Make it quick, I'm a busy woman," Beata declared.
"I get the impression you don't want to do this," Riker said.
It was a risk to call her on her own insecurity, but they were running out of time and options.
"What I want is irrelevant," Beata snarled. "As the Elected One I have a responsibility to carry out justice. And our laws have determined that the heretical teachings of Ramsey and his followers are inconsistent with harmonious life on Angel One."
She took a deep breath and looked away.
"I have no choice but the silence these revolutionaries," Beata said with a tinge of regret.
She turned back to face him and met Commander Riker's eyes.
"Their deaths will be swift and painless," she informed him as if that were somehow a comfort.
Commander Riker shook his head.
"You're entitled to execute your people, I'm not here to dispute that," Riker explained.
He walked her through a brief overview of the Prime Directive and assured her they had no interest in interfering with her government.
But in his heart, Commander Riker was more than ready to push right up to the line when it came to violating the Prime Directive in order to save lives.
"I understand that as a man, your brain can't possibly comprehend the responsibility of leading a nation," Beata snapped. "But I have an obligation to enforce our laws. I've faced too many challenges to my leadership to do otherwise."
Riker was struck with an idea.
"Your position is elected, correct?" Riker inquired.
Beata nodded.
"How many men are there on Angel One?" he asked next.
Beata snapped her fingers and looked to Trent.
"As of our last general census, the population of Angel One was just over 654,000 people," Trent recited. "Approximately half of that population is men."
"And what percentage of those men would be eligible to vote?" Riker pressed.
Trent felt a wave of excitement.
"Around sixty percent are of voting age," Trent said enthusiastically.
Beata looked scandalised by the notion.
"But that is not right afforded to men, our women are the only ones capable of making such decisions," Trent added.
Commander Riker pulled his leg up on the nearest chair and leaned over.
"I may have only visited your planet for a short time, but I suspect the Ramsey and the Odin survivors did not initiate the waves of dissent that are rippling through your planet. These attitudes were already well underway," Riker theorised. "And I would suspect that whoever would be the first person to offer universal suffrage regardless of gender would likely be the politician to endear themselves to those voters."
Beata crossed her arms and inhaled sharply.
"And someone with that much support would be hard to overthrow," Riker continued. "What did you say earlier Trent? Nearly forty percent of those in the capital city support the equality reforms?"
Trent shifted nervously.
"Don't try to hide it," Beata lamented. "I already know where your sympathies lie, Trent."
Feeling a new sense of courage, Trent took a page from Riker's book and decided to take a risk.
"The people would fall behind you," Trent dared to say. "Treyla and Merrin wouldn't have the votes to challenge you in the next election."
To his delight, Commander Riker could see Beata was contemplating his suggestion.
He decided to move in for the kill.
"If you kill Ramsey and his followers you will only turn them into martyrs," Riker urged. "It will fuel those sympathetic to his cause to fight harder."
"Data?" Riker said as he tapped his combadge.
"The Enterprise can remain in orbit for another eight minutes and fourteen seconds," Data responded.
Riker and Deanna exchanged a nervous glance.
Following his conversation with Beata, she had convened the ruling Council. Commander Riker and Deanna had been waiting patiently in the main hall with Ramsey and his group for an answer since.
Will could only hope that it would be enough to spare their lives.
"Whatever happens, you gave it your best effort," Deanna assured him.
Sometimes it was nice she could anticipate his needs like that.
"Thanks Imzadi," Riker said with a small smile.
They waited in silence for a few more moments.
"Riker to Enterprise ," Riker said as he tapped his combadge.
It was time.
"Go ahead," Data responded.
The doors to the Council chamber opened and Beata and the other council members flooded out into the main hall.
"Standby," Riker said suddenly.
Taking her position at the front of the room, Beata turned to address the crowd.
"After careful consideration, the council has voted to stay the execution of the prisoners," Beata announced.
Ramsey's group looked around at one another in astonishment. This was an exceptionally rare act of mercy at the hands of a government that had pursued their movement and violently stamped out opposition for decades.
"As some have observed, the winds of change have blown steadily against our Council for some time. The Council recognises that we cannot stop the march of progress," Beata went on. "Perhaps now is the time for us to embrace it."
Beata turned to Trent.
"We have appointed a new exploratory commission to examine the changes proposed by the Equality Movement. A commission that will be overseen by Trent," Beata nodded to him.
Counsellor Troi could feel he was beaming with pride and being permitted such an important role.
"And Mistress Ariel," Beata proclaimed as she turned to Ramsey's wife.
It wasn't exactly the upheaval that Riker had sought – but it was a start.
Most importantly, Ramsey, his followers, and their families would be spared.
Riker and Deanna bid a fond farewell to Ramsey, Trent, and the others as they wished them the best of luck in their new endeavour.
"Don't we have a call to pay on the Romulans?" Riker grinned.