Author's Note: Thank you for the likes, kudos, comments, and messages on Twitter!
Apologies in advance, Data and Tasha have their first truly knockdown fight. But they both emerge better for it. I hope it's clear the reasons behind the argument stem for the deep, mutual affection for one another.
There's a video game Easter Egg in this chapter (but I don't want to give it away in the notes).
"Spaghettification" is the real term used by astrophysicists to describe the difference in strength of gravity from one end of the body to the other caused by the singularity.
The Calypso is only considered a shuttlecraft per canon. However, in this story I made it a 'Dart.' The Dart is an AU class of ship I created for my companion piece "The Competition" and is supposed to be a smaller, faster Nebula class ship.
Fun fact about Data's little statistics game – these statistics are on the "whole" exaggerated. I need to justify his line about "statistically likely."
As always, if you like my works or want to stay up to date with my art, comics, or just like chatting about the fandom you can join me TheTartanTart on Twitter.
Worf was sitting quietly, monitoring their sensors. They were powerless to stop their slow drift toward the event horizon, but it gave Worf a sense of comfort to feel like he was doing something.
Commander Riker, Wesley, and Miles were in the back of the shuttle playing cards.
Riker felt he had a duty to keep everyone's spirits up.
They were all wearing a brave face, but inside they were terrified.
Geordi La Forge sat at the helm of the shuttle. He was resting his head against the side wall. As he watched the light circle and disappear into the event horizon, Geordi thought there was something strangely beautiful about the manner in which this destructive force consumed the matter around it.
It was an unsettling thought.
In the very least, Geordi was grateful there were no class M planets in the vicinity.
Although it had been only an hour since Data had left, Geordi calculated that it had been much longer for Data given the effects of the time dilation field.
"Lieutenant La Forge? Lieutenant Worf? Would you care to join us?" Riker called out.
He shuffled the cards and looked up at the two Lieutenants.
"We can deal you in," Riker offered.
"I would prefer to remain at my post, sir," Worf replied.
Riker nodded in acknowledgement. He understood it was key to keep everyone level-headed and comfortable in a situation like this. If tempers got testy it could spell disaster.
"You know I was nearly stranded once," Riker said. "A rescue mission on Nervala IV."
He began to deal the cards to Miles and Wesley.
"It was while I was serving on the Potemkin. I led an away team to rescue a group of researchers that had been stranded at an outpost on the planet," Riker recalled.
There had been significant atmospheric distortions created by the unusual weather patterns present on the planet. The interference had almost dissipated his transporter pattern. The unique meteorological makeup of Nervala IV's atmosphere meant it created a distortion field that made transporters and shuttles were blocked from accessing the surface.
Access to the research station was only available during a limited window.
It was a window that emerged only once every eight years.
"I was the last to beam out and I almost didn't make it," Riker explained.
Will recalled how terrified he had been at that time – the thought of being alone and presumed dead, the idea of never seeing Deanna again.
"But in the end, everything worked out," Riker said with a grin. "And I know Data's going to figure this out. If anyone can, it's him."
Riker's goal in recounting the story was to give everyone a little sliver of hope. They had to keep their spirits high.
"Well, I know we're going to make it out," Miles said. "If I die in this bloody black hole, Keiko will murder me."
"The problem isn't communication interference," Sonya explained. "We're communicating just fine with the shuttle and vice versa."
Captain Picard and the remaining bridge crew were in the Observation Lounge seated around the conference table. They were joined by Ensign Gomez and Geordi's Deputy Chief Engineering Lieutenant Vance.
"They shuttle is trapped in a time dilation field," Sonya went on.
It had certainly answered some of their questions about the delayed and garbled communications.
"According to the theory of relativity, there are only two things that can cause the effect," Sonya informed them. "Extreme velocities or extreme gravity."
"And since the maximum speed of the shuttle is only Warp four, we know it isn't because of velocity," Lieutenant Vance chimed in.
"But we knew there would be extreme gravitational stresses on this mission," Picard said.
The gravitational force of the Heboyd system was well known from the first research mission years earlier. It had been the whole purpose of their outfitting the probes and shuttle to handle the increased pressure.
"Shortly before the last transmission, the probe we launched registered an extreme change in the gravitational constant," Sonya said. "I think the shuttle is caught by the black hole's gravity."
"How much time do they have?" Beverly questioned.
Sonya wrung her hands nervously.
"I-I-I don't know," she stammered.
Captain Picard sighed.
"I want an answer to that question in the next hour," Picard ordered. "And I want options for how to get them out of there."
Sonya took a deep breath.
"Sir, I have no way of knowing how much time they have," Sonya confessed. "Time moves slower the closer they get to the event horizon. The probe isn't an active measurement because we don't know the exact location of the black hole."
Deanna could sense Sonya was correct – and that the young Ensign was doing everything she could to try and help find a solution.
The Counsellor could also sense that everyone shared a collective fear for the away team's safety.
They had never encountered anything like this before.
"The shuttle doesn't have the escape velocity," Sonya said. "And the Enterprise is too big to go in."
For the last two hours, Sonya had racked her brain for any possible solution to extract the trapped shuttle.
Engineering had run a series of simulations. Each one had failed to produce enough force to achieve the escape velocity. The shuttle simply wasn't fast enough.
"We would need something roughly the size of a Nebula class ship but faster," Sonya theorised. "Much faster."
"Calypso," Tasha said suddenly.
"What?" Deanna asked.
"Calypso," Tasha repeated as she sat up in her chair.
The Calypso was the Captain's Yacht. It was a Dart class ship that was designed for diplomatic and emergency missions where extra security was needed or shuttlecraft weren't adequate.
Darts had been in service for about fifteen years. They were smaller and faster than their Nebula class ancestors. They were in heavy service with the Border War for covert operations.
Tasha had served on a Dart during one of her early assignments along the Cardassian border. They didn't hold much in the way of crew quarters or features like the Galaxy class ships, but they were fast and boasted an impressive armament for their size.
Ensign Gomez shook her head.
"It wouldn't be fast enough," Sonya said, feeling dejected. "Their maximum speed is Warp 9.3. We need to reach Warp 9.6 in order to achieve escape velocity."
For a moment, no one said anything as the group in the briefing fell silent.
No wasn't an acceptable answer.
They had to find a way to get the team out of there.
Suddenly, Tasha was struck with an idea.
"I won't pretend I know anything about how this works, but it's a really big object, right?" Tasha said.
Sonya's brow furrowed.
"Um, yes," she replied.
"Could we slingshot it?" Tasha asked.
Sonya cocked her head to the side – she wasn't following.
"Slingshot manoeuvre," Tasha explained.
"Like Titan's Turn?" Picard questioned.
"Only a lot more dangerous," Vance remarked as he realised what Tasha was proposing.
Titan's Turn was a well-known slingshot manoeuvre that many Starfleet officers were familiar with. Anyone that had ever spent time piloting shuttles in the sector of Earth's solar system had likely been aboard a vessel pulling that move at one time or another.
It was a risky move – expressly forbidden by Starfleet – and one that required an adept pilot.
"The inertial dampeners of the Calypso aren't designed to withstand that kind of force. The crew inside would be pulling a lot of g's," Sonya advised.
"That kind of stress could cause the pilot to blackout," Beverly advised.
It didn't need to be said aloud. Everyone in the room understood that this could spell disaster for the mission. If the pilot were to lose consciousness, they could drift off course or crash.
It would be a one-shot chance to make it happen. And Engineering would need time to outfit the Calypso with the proper shielding to reinforce the hull against the extreme gravitational pressure.
"I want a timeline for getting the Calypso ready to launch this rescue mission," Picard ordered.
"Yes, sir," Sonya acknowledged.
"I can start looking through the medical records for a suitable pilot," Beverly offered. "Someone with the proper lung capacity and physiology to maximise the chance of success."
"No need, Doctor," Picard said. "I'll do it myself. I won't ask any of the crew to take that risk."
Beverly, Deanna, and Tasha exchanged a glance.
Deanna knew Picard meant what he'd said. He couldn't ask any member of the crew to fly into a black hole. The chance of success was already slim, and Deanna understood the Captain couldn't have that on his conscience.
As his friend, Beverly knew Jean-Luc well enough to understand his reasoning. However, as his doctor, she knew he wasn't going to be able to complete the mission. Although he'd been a skilled pilot and was in excellent health, the type of aerobic lung capacity required was just not something he grasped.
No, the mission required someone with the kind of higher vital capacity and improved pulmonary function that was more often found in swimmers or runners.
Wordlessly, the three women conveyed their plan.
"Sir, as acting First Officer I cannot allow you to pilot the Calypso," Tasha said.
As anticipated, Captain Picard protested.
"I will not order one of my crew into-" Picard started to say.
"You don't have to, sir," Tasha informed him. "I volunteer."
Captain Picard looked displeased.
"Sir, I'm the only one of us that's actually piloted this type of ship in a slingshot manoeuvre before," Tasha argued. "I also had g-force physical training at the Academy."
"And Lieutenant Yar's medical history would make her the best candidate," Beverly added.
"Ten days!" Keiko exclaimed.
"For us," Sonya explained. "In all reality it's probably only a matter of hours – maybe minutes – for them."
Keiko Ishikawa, Doctor Crusher, Deanna, and Tasha were sitting together in Ten Forward.
While the latter three were all senior officers and had been aware of the details of the black hole situation, Keiko's role as a civilian botanist had meant she'd been largely in the dark.
Keiko had contacted Tasha the day before when the ship had left orbit to return to the rendezvous point.
Now that they had a plan in place, Tasha felt she had a responsibility to break the news to Keiko.
Keiko and the Chief had gotten together around the same time as Data and Tasha. They'd hit it off well.
So well, in fact, that they were completely enamoured with one another. The two complimented each other perfectly. Despite their bickering, they adored one another and supported each other's hobbies and interests – Miles taking the time to learn botany and Keiko readily accepting his help in learning basic electrical engineering skills.
Keiko had felt like they had truly made a deep connection.
She'd been devastated when word came that the shuttle was missing.
Tasha could relate.
Her and Data had grown so close they were already discussing more serious, long-term prospects including their thoughts on children.
In her heart, she knew that they had to get the away team back, not just for herself, but for everyone that was around the table.
Beverly's son, Deanna's Imzadi, the Chief, Worf, Geordi – they weren't just friends.
They were family.
And Data.
"We're working around the clock," Sonya assured them. "Once the necessary reinforcements are in place, Lieutenant Yar can sweep in and extract the team."
"Do you think they know what's happening yet?" Beverly asked.
Sonya shrugged.
"I'm sure if they do, they're all probably afraid but doing their best to hang on," Deanna said.
She'd had more than a few conversations with Will about his experience on Nervala IV. Deanna knew Will was likely doing everything he could to keep spirits high.
"And if they do know what's happening, then they're counting on us to get them out," Sonya surmised. "We can't fail them."
"We won't," Tasha said without taking her eyes away from the window.
Data was out there.
And she was going to get him back.
On Beverly's orders, Tasha decided to head off and attempt to get some rest.
She was exhausted and it had been nearly two days since she'd last slept.
She bid the others farewell and said goodnight to Guinan.
On her way out the door, Guinan handed her a flask of something.
"Take this before turning in," Guinan suggested. "Trust me. You look like you could use some sweet dreams, and this will help you sleep."
"Thanks," Tasha said with a wry smile.
As soon as she was on the lift, Tasha felt a pang of loneliness.
There was something about returning to her quarters that felt uncomfortable. She'd always loved the view that her quarters had afforded her. Tasha loved to stare out the window into open space.
But right now, the idea that Data was out there somewhere on a shuttle, alone with the away team and likely afraid, left her feeling dreadful.
It was a painful reminder that Data was in danger and not something Tasha could stomach at the moment.
"Computer, deck two," Tasha ordered.
From the moment she stepped into Data's quarters, Tasha felt a sense of relief.
Typically, Data and Tasha spent most of their nights in her quarters. However, there were times that he needed his workstation or needed to be close to the Bridge.
On the evenings that he had night watch, Tasha would often fall asleep reading on his sofa.
Just a few days earlier they had sat at his table and discussed the upcoming Starfleet Academy reunion. The Enterprise would be returning to Earth for the event, and it would be a veritable who's who of Starfleet Academy alumni.
Tasha had never bothered with such events.
Data found them fascinating.
During their discussion, Tasha had encouraged him to go. He'd been slightly dejected by the idea of going alone.
"Come back to me, and I'll go with you," Tasha said aloud in hopes that any omnipotent deity that was listening would spare the away team.
Grabbing her standard issue sleep shorts and tee from the wardrobe, Tasha shucked off her uniform and slipped under the covers.
She popped the lid off Guinan's mystery flask and downed the liquid in one go.
It was pleasant and warm with hints of cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg. There was a hint of sweetness. From the moment it hit her throat, Tasha felt herself unwind.
Tasha laid back and stared at the ceiling as her eyes adjusted to the dark.
Her eyelids felt increasingly heavy.
Turning over to her side, Tasha clutched Data's pillow and curled up against it.
She inhaled deeply and felt an inexplicable sense of nothingness.
Data never wore cologne. He didn't perspire or have any kind of human scent.
But Tasha had come to associate the smell of acrylic paint, dirt from the arboretum, and the Turpenoid he used to clean his brushes with her beloved android.
Unfortunately, those scents didn't carry over to his bedding.
Tasha wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but she was hoping for something that could help her feel closer to him.
As she drifted off to sleep, she lamented that she'd have to settle for just her memories for the next ten days.
Tasha felt something press against her neck and heard the familiar hiss of a hypospray.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself on the floor of the holodeck staring back at Doctor Crusher.
Tasha closed her eyes again and groaned.
"It happened again?" Tasha asked in frustration.
"Yes," Beverly replied.
Tasha growled under her breath.
Beverly stretched out her hand and helped the Security Chief to her feet.
"We'll just have to keep trying," Tasha insisted. "Increase the dosage."
Beverly shook her head.
"No more today," Beverly said firmly. "And I can't give you any more neurostimulant or repressurising serum for at least another twenty-four hours. There's already a dangerous level in your system."
"I think we've done enough for today," Deanna added. "You should rest."
"I'm fine," Tasha assured them. "Computer, restart simulation."
"Belay that order," Beverly commanded.
Tasha shot Beverly a look.
They'd been at it for nearly three days without any progress.
With the help of Sonya Gomez, they had created a holodeck simulation to train flying the Calypso in the slingshot manoeuvre around a black hole. As they still didn't know the exact size of the black hole, Sonya only had estimates to work with.
In each training scenario, Tasha had lost consciousness due to the g force exerted.
At Tasha's insistence, Beverly had been called in to provide a neural stimulating agent to try and combat the loss of oxygen flow to the brain. Tasha's blood pressure was already too high, and the Doctor was concerned about increasing it further.
"Need I remind you this is their only chance?" Tasha asserted. "If this doesn't work, do you know what that black hole will do to them?"
Deanna could sense Tasha was about ready to boil over.
The stress of the last few days weighed heavily on all of them, everyone's patience was wearing thin.
"There's no coming back. We don't know what will happen once they cross that event horizon," Tasha said. "Sure, it's horrible that the guys are going to die when the shuttle shield fails. They'll be dead long before they reach the event horizon."
Beverly felt an unwelcome chill at the thought.
"But Data? He won't. And he'll have to reach that event horizon alone," Tasha said as she took a shaky breath. "It will stretch and compress his body like a ribbon. He'll be powerless to stop it. And completely alone."
"Spaghettification," Sonya said brightly as she stepped through the arch.
Tasha had been concerned about Data since the start of the crisis. While she was worried for all of the crew that was trapped, Tasha knew intimately that Data's synthetic makeup meant he would likely survive most of the possible worst-case scenarios of shuttle failure.
Engineering had speculated that if the increase in gravitational forces continued, the team would have approximately five days before the shuttle energy reserves gave out. If life support didn't fail in that time, the hull would crack first.
It would spell death for everyone onboard – except Data.
Tasha had pressed Sonya for details about what would happen to him. She had to know.
So, the young engineer had spent over an hour describing the finer points of theory to Tasha on the subject. Tasha had hoped that learning more about it would put her mind at ease.
Unfortunately, it had only made her sick to her stomach.
"The gravitational force would stretch a body like a spaghetti noodle," Sonya described. "It's like extreme tidal forces. The body would compress vertically. The right side of your body would be pulled to the left, and the left side of your body would be-"
She trailed as off as she caught the look on Tasha's face.
"We'll figure it out," Deanna promised. "We have time."
"I'm sick of hearing that word," Tasha snapped.
In truth, they all were.
Every briefing.
Every update.
It was all about time.
"By the time you reach the event horizon, there will be hull cracks from the stress in these areas," Sonya explained.
Tasha, Captain Picard, Beverly, and Deanna were on a tour of the Calypso with Sonya.
True to her word, there were engineers working around the clock to try and outfit the vessel for the upcoming rescue mission.
The sound of sonic welders, transwarp conductor tests, and drivers could be heard coming from all angles of the ship.
"We're focusing our materials and efforts on the key areas necessary for functioning. Any non-essential parts of the ship will likely suffer from stress cracks," Sonya explained. "But I don't think you'll need the conference room or sleeping bunks."
The plan was to 'scoop' up the shuttle using the cargo bay.
One feature of the yacht was a forward-facing cargo bay hanger. Darts didn't have big cargo bays to begin with, so the angle of flight would require precision or Tasha could destroy the shuttle.
Because of the speed necessary in order to achieve escape velocity, she would have to locate and pick them up at full impulse. As soon as they were on the homeward bound arc of their slingshot, Tasha would have to take the ship to maximum warp.
Hopefully, it would be enough to clear them to a safe distance.
Despite the best efforts of the team from Engineering, they were still seven days away from having the Calypso ready for action.
"Excellent work, Ensign," Picard said warmly.
Deanna had reminded him that Sonya was still an Ensign, quite fresh from the Academy, and would work best with a little encouragement.
Sonya beamed.
The Captain excused himself to return to his Ready Room.
Deanna and Beverly decided to head to Ten Forward for a drink.
But Tasha remained.
"Anything I can help with?" she asked.
"Do you know how to reroute a weapons conduit to shielding?" Sonya asked.
"Actually, yes," Tasha replied honestly.
While engineering was far from Tasha's forte, she knew her way around the weapons and shielding systems well – especially on a Dart class ship.
The two women headed for the Bridge of the Calypso and set to work.
Tasha pulled off the access panel and slipped under the console. After disconnecting power from the main system for safety, she set to work stripping away the wiring to access the necessary component to reroute the energy supply.
Unfortunately, her efficiency meant that she was done with the task sooner than she had hoped to be. She was desperate to keep working. A part of her felt she needed to be doing everything possible for the trapped away team.
Another part of her was desperate for any kind of distraction from the loneliness she felt.
Tasha had been expressly forbidden from any physical activity by Doctor Crusher's order which meant a run was off the table.
And she felt horrible for the way she'd snapped at Beverly and Deanna.
Worst of all, she knew that this was about the only useful thing she could do to help equip the Calypso. Once this task was done, she would simply be in the way.
"You miss him," Sonya said from across the Bridge.
"What?" Tasha asked.
"I said you miss him," Sonya repeated. "And you're worried about him."
"It's my job to worry about the away team," Tasha said stiffly.
"But that's not why you asked me about what happens when they reach the event horizon," Sonya said knowingly. "Life support will fail, or the hull will crack long before then. But you know that he'd survive. And you're worried about him."
Tasha didn't know what to say in response.
If she didn't voice it aloud, it would be easier to repress it.
"And it's why you've been dragging your feet on restarting that console," Sonya added. "I know you finished the reroute ages ago."
Tasha sat up on her elbow and looked over at the young engineer.
"Yeah," Tasha confessed. "I do."
She glanced out of the viewscreen.
"I really do," she breathed.
Sonya sat up from her station under the helm.
"You know Lieutenant La Forge always says the impossible is just waiting for an engineer to make possible," Sonya said with a reassuring smile.
Suddenly, Tasha's combadge pinged.
"Lieutenant Yar, we've picked up a class one probe approaching the Enterprise," Picard's voice advised. "It's from the shuttle."
Tasha tried to contain her excitement.
"Do you know what this means?" Sonya asked enthusiastically. "If they've sent a probe, it likely contains the information we need to know exactly the size and scope of the black hole."
It would be vital information for the success of their mission.
"Transporter room has advised that they're reading Commander Data's combadge signal from the probe," Picard went on.
Tasha sat up so quickly she hit the top of her head on the console.
The Captain advised that he had a team ready to beam it aboard into Transporter Room two.
"Acknowledged," Tasha said, rubbing her forehead. "On my way."
Tasha had done her best to remain composed on her way to the Transporter Room, but it was hard to contain that much nervous energy. If they had picked up Data's signature on the probe, that was a good sign that the away team was alive and aware of their circumstances.
It was also possible that Data had included his combadge in order to amplify the probe's signal to the Enterprise sensors.
Tasha grinned to herself.
Leave it to Data to figure out just how to get their attention in a crisis.
When she reached Transporter Room two, she found that the other remaining senior officers were already present.
They were waiting for Tasha to conduct a routine security sweep before opening the probe. It was protocol and it was protocol for good reason.
Tasha whipped out her security tricorder and ran a scan of the probe.
"Looks safe," Tasha commented. "I'll crack it open with your permission, sir?"
"Please," Picard replied.
Tasha knelt down next to the probe and accessed the control panel.
After inputting her Enterprise security access code, the probe hissed and opened.
Tasha's throat grew tight as she felt her eyes well up.
Deanna could feel an overwhelming sense of shock and loss radiating off her friend.
Tasha clapped her hand over her mouth. She closed her eyes and choked back the urge to sob.
You're on duty. No tears on duty. She told herself.
Wordlessly, Deanna rushed forward and embraced her friend.
Captain Picard and Beverly could tell something was wrong.
Stepping forward to the transporter pad, they glanced down into the probe.
Picard wasn't sure what to say.
Beverly knew from experience it wouldn't matter.
There were no words that could properly convey their sympathy for Tasha's loss.
Beverly knelt down next to Tasha and joined their embrace.
"Data," Picard said softly as he found himself staring at Data's disembodied head.
"It is good to see you, Captain," Data responded as he opened his eyes.
Everyone was startled.
Captain Picard had jumped back in time to avoid the three officers that stumbled back in alarm.
Tasha was the first to find the courage to crawl back to the probe.
"Tasha, why are you crying?" Data's head asked.
Carefully, she reached down and picked up his head. Tasha pulled it up to eye level and blinked in disbelief at the sight of it.
"Tasha?" Data pressed. "What is wrong?"
"Are you hurt?" she asked in concern.
It was as if he'd been cut clean off, just below the neck. She knew he didn't experience pain in the same manner as humans.
However, it didn't mean he was completely immune. Nor was he spared the emotional toll of such a loss. Tasha had served with plenty of officers that were amputees. She knew that while many of these officers went on to live with little to no restrictions, distorted self-image and social isolation could occur.
Friends would often act differently – even if they were well-intended.
Data had come so far in his development and begun to recognise his own self-imagine in a new way. Tasha was concerned this would be a huge setback.
"I am fine," he replied.
Overcome with emotion, she pulled him close into an embrace. Clutching him tightly against her chest, Data realised that he should probably explain a few things.
"My construction makes it possible to detach my cranial unit," Data said, slightly muffled at being held so close. "My memory core and neural nets are self-contained."
"And the others?" Beverly asked.
"They are fine for the time being, but we must begin work immediately to rescue them," Data advised. "During my time in the probe, I have theorised a number of possible solutions."
Tasha stopped hugging him long enough for Data to address the group.
"May I ask, what Stardate it is?" Data inquired.
"41674.7," Captain Picard informed him.
"Fascinating," Data replied.
There had been no shortage of stares from the passing crew as Tasha carried Data's head from the Observation Lounge to his quarters.
Much to everyone's relief, Data was able to provide Engineering with the information necessary to pinpoint the shuttle's location based on the rate of movement they had experienced before Data's departure. With his knowledge of the time differentiation within the field, they would stand a much better chance of mission success.
Data was very supportive of Sonya's rescue plan.
In fact, he was highly impressed with her ability to deduce what had occurred and formulate such an idea to rescue the trapped away team.
"She is a clever engineer," Data remarked as they stepped into his quarters.
"Um, where do you want me to, uh," Tasha trailed off as she looked around.
She wasn't exactly sure what to do with Data.
"Would you please deposit me on the surface of my workstation?" Data asked.
Tasha set him down on the workstation and, per his request, set up his computer viewscreen at an angle that would enable him to see it clearly.
She sat down at the chair behind his workstation and watched him quietly as he input the calculations necessary to continue their work.
In a way, Data felt frustrated that he couldn't physically assist with outfitting the necessary upgrades to the Calypso. His knowledge and superhuman speed would likely have taken hours off the completion.
However, he didn't regret his choice to leave in the probe.
It was necessary in order to get back to the Enterprise.
"And it is your intention to pilot the Calypso?" Data inquired. "What about a crew?"
"I'll go alone," Tasha explained. "We can't risk anyone else."
"That is a wise decision," Data commented. "While this plan is our best hope, I calculate only a thirty-two percent chance of success."
A chill crept down Tasha's spine.
"Don't tell Picard that," Tasha warned.
If the chance of success was so low, there was no way Captain Picard would risk sending in another member of the crew.
"Otherwise, he'd nix our idea and I'd never be able to go after the others," Tasha explained. "Or get the rest of you."
A beat passed.
"You can be reassembled right?" Tasha asked nervously. "We can fix you? Can Geordi put you back together?"
She needed to know. She couldn't stand to see him like this.
"Tasha, all that is me is contained within my neural net. I am here," Data asserted.
Data could not turn to look at her, but he knew that his words hadn't provided the reassurance she was seeking.
"Of course, you are," she said, feigning confidence.
"The limb and torso components of my system are not necessary for my sentience," Data reminded her.
"Yeah," Tasha agreed awkwardly.
She thumbed away the tears that had started to run down her face and said silent prayer to the Universe – thankful that Data couldn't turn around to see her.
She felt ashamed for crying over it when he was the one that had been taken apart.
For his part, Data was trying to keep his spirits up.
If the rescue was unsuccessful, it would be a major disruption to his work.
While he was certain he could eventually create a synthetic body – it could be years before he would play a violin again, or paint, or harvest a crop in the arboretum.
Or hold Tasha. He reminded himself bitterly.
Data hoped that by keeping a metaphorical 'stiff upper lip' it would reassure Tasha that everything was going to be alright.
"Do you need anything?" Tasha asked.
"I am fine," Data replied.
"I suppose you've got a lot of work to do," Tasha said.
"That is correct," Data said in response. "You are welcome to stay."
Data didn't want to press it, but he desperately wanted her company. He had spent three days alone drifting through space. It was isolating.
In his current state, he was not free to head to Ten Forward or the arboretum for companionship.
"I don't want to get in your way," Tasha said quickly as she stood up.
Truth be told, Tasha was feeling completely shaken.
She needed to clear her head.
It was too weird to see Data like this.
"I'll, uh, see you later," she said as she backed toward the door.
"If that is your wish," Data replied.
He could sense her hesitancy and speculated this must be difficult for her.
More than anything, he wished he could assure her that they would get through this. He didn't want to lose to her from his life but he understood this would change things.
He waited fifteen minutes.
"Computer, what is the current location of Lieutenant Yar?" Data queried.
"Lieutenant Yar is currently on Holodeck three," the Computer answered.
It was the confirmation he needed to know just where her thoughts lay.
Over in Ten Forward, Beverly and Deanna were seated together at a table in the back.
They were both worried about the away team, but Data's arrival had been a welcome sign that things were going to work out.
According to Data, only a few hours had passed within the shuttle. Everyone was in high spirits and looking forward to rescue. They had taken the necessary steps to divert all power to shields and life support.
The idea that time was relative was a difficult concept to grasp, but it made Beverly and Deanna feel a little better knowing the away team hadn't been stranded for days.
"At least there's one advantage to this time dilation effect," Deanna commented.
Beverly nodded and took a sip of her wine.
"I was so worried when we first opened that probe," Deanna said. "I sense you were too. You're scared about Wes."
"Of course, I am," Beverly replied. "He's still just a boy even if he is an acting Ensign."
Deanna nodded in understanding.
"Commander Riker will do everything he can to take care of him," Deanna assured her. "He will keep him safe."
"I know," Beverly smiled.
All of a sudden, Beverly's combadge pinged.
"Data to Doctor Crusher," Data's voice rang out.
"Go ahead," Beverly replied.
It had been well over ninety minutes since the computer had first reported that Tasha was on Holodeck three. Data knew it was likely that she was running. He also knew she was liable to overexert herself in an attempt to repress the emotional turmoil of the last few hours.
Data had tried to raise Tasha on her combadge several times without success.
Unfortunately, he was trapped on top of the workstation in his quarters.
"Would it be possible for you to please check on Lieutenant Yar?" Data asked. "I am currently unable to do so, and she has been on Holodeck three for nearly two hours."
Deanna and Beverly exchanged a glance.
"Didn't you expressly forbid Tasha from the Holodeck?" Deanna asked.
Beverly nodded.
"Sit tight, Data," Beverly said as she tapped her communicator badge. "Consider it done."
Tasha felt great.
Well, mentally she felt great.
She had finally reached the kind of mental high she'd been seeking.
Her mind was clear, and she was focused on nothing but the next step.
She was running through one of her favourite programmes – a holoprogramme designed to replicate the running conditions on Gritois VIIII. It was a cool-weather planet with tranquil, expansive lakes that sat at the foot of an ancient, snow-capped mountain range.
Tasha had visited the planet during her time aboard the Dunkirk and had fallen in love with its running trails and the serene solitude that they offered.
She was nearing the end of her physical stamina, but for the moment she had achieved peace of mind.
But that piece of mind had come with a price.
And Tasha knew she was going to pay for it.
She was already near the point of exhaustion.
Her chest was uncomfortably tight, and she felt dizzy.
"You just don't understand the meaning of 'no' do you?" Beverly snapped as she stepped through the arch.
Tasha slowed her pace and turned around.
Hands on her head and breathing hard, she approached the Doctor and Counsellor.
"I just-I just," she panted.
Tasha shook her head.
It was too hard to talk at the moment.
She could feel the blood pounding in her ears.
Beverly whipped out her tricorder and conducted a quick scan.
"I didn't give you that order because I wanted you to take it easy," Beverly growled. "I gave you that order because I shot your body full of neurostimulants and midodrines to increase your blood pressure."
Beverly ordered Deanna to grab the emergency medical kit in the corridor.
"Gods you're lucky Data called us," Beverly warned her.
Tasha was trying to walk around to cool down.
Suddenly, she stopped and wavered. She felt warm and she was struck by a sudden wave of disorientation.
"Easy does it," Beverly said as put her arm under the Security Chief to stabilise her.
Deanna returned a moment later with the medical kit.
The Counsellor took over from Beverly, Tasha leaning heavily on her while the Doctor prepared an appropriate hypospray.
After a few seconds, Tasha felt like she could stand on her own again.
She walked in a circle and then got down on the ground to stretch.
"You're lucky you didn't stroke out," Beverly said angrily as she slammed the components back into the emergency kit and shut the lid. "Gods that was stupid."
As she leaned forward to touch her toes, Tasha didn't respond.
Deanna observed the two carefully.
"I should confine you to quarters," Beverly huffed.
Tasha didn't make eye contact as she sat up and moved to repeat the stretch with her other leg.
"You could have seriously hurt yourself," Beverly went on.
She had been opposed to the idea of the stimulants from the start. Pumping an officer full of so many drugs was a big risk. She'd only agreed, albeit reluctantly, at the insistence of Tasha and Captain Picard.
Tasha let Beverly go on for a while, taking the verbal lashing as the Doctor worked it out of her system.
Deanna could sense Tasha felt she deserved it.
"You can't punch your way out of this," Beverly raged. "I'm sick of patching you up because you can't just work through your emotional problems like the rest of us."
Oft! That touched a nerve! Deanna sensed.
Before she could suggest they cool down, Deanna heard Tasha sniffle.
With her peace of mind gone, Tasha couldn't swallow down her feelings anymore.
She brushed away the hot tears and bent forward to continue stretching, praying that if she stayed quiet Deanna and Beverly would get the hint and leave.
"Tasha?" Deanna tried.
"I'm grateful you were here to help," Tasha said stiffly. "But I'd really like to be alone."
It was a lie.
She didn't want to be alone at all.
She wanted to be curled up with Data on the sofa in her quarters – reading a book or listening to him prattle on about the difference between Andorian and Vulcan soil composition.
Tasha sat back and took a shaky breath.
She couldn't bring herself to look at Beverly or Deanna.
Even in her counselling sessions, it was hard for her to let anyone see her this vulnerable.
"It's just hard to see him like this," Tasha sobbed. "It's not fair."
Doctor and Counsellor exchanged knowing glance.
They had both seen this before in other patients and had a feeling they knew exactly what Tasha was going through.
"You mean Data," Deanna said as she sat down next to Tasha on the floor.
"You're having trouble adjusting to this change," Beverly added.
"It makes you uncomfortable," Deanna went on.
Tasha shook her head.
"Reacting this way is perfectly normal," Deanna assured her. "It's a significant shock and change to your relationship. Fear of being patronising or saying the wrong thing is natural."
"Data's here. With you. And I'm sure he wants to spend time with you," Beverly began to say. "People that don't have disabilities often feel awkward interacting with-"
Tasha threw her head back.
"Gods that's not it," she confessed.
Tasha groaned and put her head in her hands.
Deanna and Beverly decided to give her the space to voice her concern when she was ready.
After a few moments, she sat back up and ran her hand through her hair.
"It's like once again he's nothing more than a bloody machine," Tasha explained. "I'm sick of him being treated like this."
It was enough to make Tasha want to vomit and scream at the same time.
She described to Deanna and Beverly how Data had insisted he was fine being disembodied.
"It's as if he forgot he's more than a bundle of circuitry," Tasha said bitterly. "He's prioritising his status as a supercomputer over his own self – his hobbies, our bloody relationship."
She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jumpsuit.
"We would never ask a humanoid to do something like that," Tasha finished sadly. "And we'd never expect them to be okay if they came back like that."
Deanna knew it was hard for Tasha to share this – but now that it was out in the open it was like a weight had been lifted from her heart.
"You're right," Deanna said. "We shouldn't assume he's alright."
"Have you spoken to Data about this?" Beverly asked.
Tasha shook her head.
"I tried to bring it up," she said.
Tasha told them about their conversation and Data's insistence that his sentience was intact.
"He didn't say this exactly, but implied that the rest of him was basically immaterial," Tasha sniffled. "He was pretty dismissive. Like he didn't want to acknowledge it."
That was her biggest fear.
Sure, she'd be more than happy to find a way to adjust their hobbies and interests so he could continue pursuing them. Hell, Data was clever enough that in time he would find a way to work out how to get around and interact with the world.
But the fact he had so casually brushed aside her questions left Tasha worried.
"Gods and then I just ran away," Tasha sighed as she laid back on the floor.
"Why did you leave?" Deanna inquired.
"I was worried I was going to break down," Tasha admitted. "And I couldn't do that in front of him. I think he's scared. And he's going to need me."
Deanna and Beverly had a feeling Data and Tasha would need both of them.
"I have an opening tomorrow," Deanna advised. "What if you were to suggest a counselling session? Or I could come to his quarters?"
Beverly tapped her combadge.
"Crusher to Data," she said.
Beverly advised that she was with Tasha and that Tasha was perfectly fine.
"Data? Would you like to join me in the Arboretum tomorrow?" Beverly offered. "I could pick you up around 18:00 hours?"
"That would be acceptable," Data replied.
"Thanks," Tasha said as she sat up.
She pulled her friends in for a sweaty hug.
"Oh, please don't hug me again until you've showered," Deanna laughed.
"I don't know what I'd do without you two," Tasha said.
"What are best friends for?" Beverly grinned.
When they broke apart, Beverly and Deanna helped Tasha to her feet.
She was already incredibly sore and knew it would be worse in the morning.
Penance. A little voice in her head reminded her.
"I suppose I should go talk with him," Tasha sighed. "Sorry, this is just so weird."
"You're in a relationship with the only sentient android in the universe," Beverly commented. "Weird comes with the territory."
Data heard the door to his quarters open.
"Computer, cease playback," he verbally commanded.
The music stopped.
"Hey," Tasha called out.
She set her Parrises Squares bag down by the door and stepped over to his workstation.
Tasha dropped down to sit eye-level with Data.
"Hey," she repeated.
"Hi," he said.
For a moment, neither of them said anything as they gazed at one another.
Tasha reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.
"This is difficult for you," Data commented.
"I suspect not as hard as it is for you," Tasha replied.
Data's face registered a look of disagreement. Tasha was certain that if he could shake his head, he would have done so at that moment.
"As I have said, my neural net is completely intact," Data assured her. "My memory engrams and central processor retain their-"
"You're a lot more than just some memory files," Tasha clapped back. "And we both know it."
"Will you stay here tonight?" Data asked. "And can we sit together and read? Like we do in your quarters?"
Tasha nodded.
"I'll need to shower first," Tasha said.
"I will remain here," Data replied. "It would be best if the exposed circuitry at the base of my cranial unit avoid exposure to moisture."
"I won't be long," Tasha promised.
True to her word, she was back in seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds.
She stepped back into the main room of his quarters in her standard-issue sleep shorts and tee.
Tasha towelled her hair for a moment before running her hand back through her hair.
She picked Data up from the workstation and carried him over to the sofa.
"Where would you like to sit?" Tasha asked.
"With you," Data replied simply.
Thinking fast, Tasha grabbed one of the pillows. She set it down on her lap to provide some leverage, and then Data on top of it.
"Is this alright?" she inquired.
"Perfect," Data answered.
She grabbed the PADD and opened the appropriate file.
Clearing her throat, she resumed where they had last left off.
"The mist had now completely encircled the research station. Captain Spruce reached for the radio, only to find it was dead," Tasha read aloud. "She knew there was a secondary transponder. But it was located fifty metres away in the digger."
Data closed his eyes, content to let her stroke his hair as she read to him.
It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but her physical touch was welcome, nonetheless.
When she had left earlier, Data had felt a metaphorical sting of rejection at the idea that his condition scared or disturbed her.
It reinforced the self-doubt that had crept into his neural net three days earlier and had been the basis for Data formulating a plan.
Data felt like he would need to proceed with caution. The last thing he wanted to do was drive her away entirely.
"Fairfax was dead. And by the looks of it, he'd been dead for some time," Tasha continued. "Captain Spruce knew that without a pilot, their chance of escape was slim. Their only option left was to try for the beacon near the southern pole."
She paused for a moment while she swiped to the next page.
"With the generator in tow, the remaining survivors headed out on foot for the long march south," Tasha concluded.
It was after 22:00 hours and she was completely knackered.
"Would you like to read another chapter or wait for tomorrow?" Tasha asked.
"It would seem Captain Spruce is not unlike a certain Security Chief I know," Data teased.
Tasha laughed.
"Hush," Tasha retorted as she set the PADD down on the coffee table.
Tasha hissed as she stood, she was stiff.
"You overexerted yourself," Data said knowingly.
"You know I only do it, so you'll give me a massage," Tasha replied. "It's all part of my evil plan to get your hands on-"
Tasha stopped herself.
Real smooth. She chastised herself.
"Oh gods, Data," she said quickly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up, well, you know."
"Tasha, may I confess something?" Data asked.
Tasha nodded.
"I wish I could touch you," Data admitted. "In this moment, I would like nothing more than to hold you."
Tasha kicked herself for bringing up the subject.
"I do not wish to burden you with-" Data began.
"You're never a burden," Tasha assured him.
Data closed his eyes as he tried to organise his thoughts.
"I am frustrated by my lack of independence in this state," Data explained. "My inability to paint or walk out of my quarters is something I can only describe as infuriating. I am not in control of my own physical body. I feel like a prisoner within my cranial unit."
Tasha pulled his head into an embrace.
She wasn't sure what to say to reassure him but wanted him to know he was loved and that his anger was perfectly valid.
"If our plan is successful, Geordi should be able to reattach my torso and limb units," Data went on. "However, it may take time. And the procedure may not be effective. If that is the case, I will likely be able to synthesise a body in time."
"That's great, baby," Tasha said.
Data closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the sensation of being in her arms.
After a few seconds, he found the courage to voice what had been occupying his mind for the last several days.
"I spent a significant portion of my travel time in the probe contemplating how to say this, Tasha," Data said. "And I must confess that my motivations for asking you to stay tonight were selfish. I would like to spend this evening with you."
"I already told you I'm going to stay," Tasha said. "I just got you back!"
"I asked you to stay tonight, because I wanted to spend one last night with you," Data admitted.
Tasha froze.
She pulled Data's head up to eye level.
"What do you mean 'one last night'?" she asked in a panic.
Her mind was reeling.
Was this disconnection harmful?
Had he only been capable of sustaining such a state for a limited time?
"Data?" she pressed.
Data took what appeared to be a shaky breath and Tasha marvelled at the fact his expression could be so human without a torso or lungs.
There was fear – genuine fear – in her eyes and it broke Data's heart.
"I believe it would be best if we were to end our relationship given the circumstances," Data said with great effort.
Tasha looked like she'd been slapped.
She felt like she'd been run over by a stampede of Klingon targs.
"Wh-wh-why would you s-say that?" she managed to choke out between tears.
Data looked confused.
"My research shows that approximately fifty percent of human relationships in Starfleet end in separation or divorce following disability or diagnoses of a catastrophic disease," Data explained. "The younger the relationship, the more likely that it will terminate."
Tasha was stunned.
"I would rather we part as friends than attempt something that is statistically unlikely to survive," Data said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Tasha didn't respond.
"I did not anticipate your emotional response would be so strong," Data confessed. "Please say something, Tasha."
Data watched her carefully as she stood there sobbing.
"It was my attempt to spare your feelings," Data went on.
"So, you thought you'd just dial it up to eleven?" Tasha asked.
"I do not wish to hurt you," Data said truthfully.
Tasha scoffed.
"You didn't wish to hurt me?" she roared finally finding her voice. "So, your grand plan was to not hurt me by ending our relationship? Oh, that's just bloody rich."
He watched as she rolled her eyes.
"Gods of all the pig-headed, brainless things you could have done-" she stopped as a fresh wave of tears found their way down her face.
Data felt horrible.
He had anticipated his proposition would be unwelcome, but he had not anticipated causing her such distress. Tasha was always so level-headed and rational. He assumed she would come around to the idea after he explained his reasoning.
"Tasha, you are a senior officer with large responsibilities," Data said. "You should not have to bear the additional responsibility of serving as a caretaker for me."
Tasha closed her eyes and shook her head.
This is not happening. She told herself.
"More than that, you deserved to be loved by someone that-" Data began to say.
"Where is this coming from?" Tasha demanded. "Where in those zillions of calculations per second could you possibly conceive the idea that you aren't worthy of love?"
Data hadn't expected this question.
"Where did you get the idea that I would ever want anyone other than you? Anything other than us?" Tasha asked sadly.
She couldn't believe he had the nerve to make such a ridiculous suggestion.
"Was all that talk about ninety-thousand lightyears and family just casual chinwag then, eh?" Tasha asked indignantly.
Data found that he felt worse than before.
"Did you ever consider that maybe I want to be with you in whatever form that takes? That maybe I love you" Tasha snapped. "Or was that not a factor in your equation?"
Tasha took a breath and cleared her throat.
"I didn't spend the last three days blacking out on the holodeck because I fancy your damn arse," Tasha said.
She was trying to appeal to his sense of reason, to make him see that he was enough.
"I love you, Data," she said.
Tasha paused momentarily to study his face.
"Do you really want me to go?" she asked.
"No," Data admitted.
To his delight, she flashed him a weak smile.
"But I was concerned that you would no longer find me desirable and I did not want you to feel obligated to stay," Data said.
"You know there's something very human about self-doubt," Tasha assured him as she ran her thumb across his cheek.
She watched as his eyes lit up at the thought.
His neural net had been filled with self-doubt from the moment he had formulated his plan to escape the shuttle. Geordi's hesitancy had reinforced his concerns about the idea.
But Data had known it was the only way to save the team.
"Baby, what I'm bothered by is the fact you made this choice because you fell back into thinking you're just a machine," Tasha shared. "A tool for the rest of us to use. You're a person. You're my person. And I don't like to see you do this to yourself."
Although he was feeling more reassured than he had in days, Data did feel a twinge of regret at having underestimated Tasha.
"Tasha? May I ask you a question?" Data asked.
His tone was tentative.
"Of course," she replied.
"May I kiss you?" Data inquired.
When their lips finally met for the first time since being reunited, it wasn't the kind of passionate, steamy kiss that could be found among the pages of Beverly's romance novels.
Nor was it the kind of the desperate kiss that accompanied the reunion of many an officer following a long or dangerous mission.
It was slow.
Tender.
The kind of kiss that conveyed that there was something deeper to their relationship than mere mutual attraction or physical intimacy.
The type of touch that was shared by partners in love and in life.
When they broke apart, Tasha rested Data's forehead against her own.
"I believe we have just experienced our first lover's quarrel," Data whispered. "For what it is worth, I am sorry."
"I'm sorry too," Tasha replied softly. "Don't ever leave me, please."
"That would be quite impossible given my current state," Data quipped.
Tasha hiccupped and began to laugh.
"Please don't make me laugh," she pleaded.
"You know you go to my head," Data teased.
Tasha snorted.
"Ouch," she said after hiccuping again.
"If I could hold you right now I would," Data replied. "But it seems I left my best asset back on the shuttle."
Tasha cocked her head to the side and looked at him confused.
"You have often commented that you have a certain fascination with my hands," Data explained.
"I think your best asset is right here," Tasha commented.
Data blinked.
"My mind?" he inquired.
"No, you're nose," she replied seriously.
She placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.
"Ah! A joke," Data said brightly as he caught on.
"Well, I certainly wasn't referring to your sense of humour," Tasha said with a grin.
Tasha got up and carried Data into the bedroom.
After some initial discussion about how to best make it work, Data decided it may be best if she were to place him on the nightstand. He could initiate his rest programme there. Tasha occasionally had violent nightmares and he was less likely to wind up getting tossed like a Parrises Squares handball if he was out of her reach.
Data waited until she was asleep before initiating his rest programme. She was sprawled out on her back, and he watched the gentle rise and fall of her breathing for a few moments before he closed his eyes.
"Tasha, you know I think my best asset is you," Data whispered.
Geordi La Forge was deep in thought, staring out the shuttle viewscreen when Miles O'Brien came to sit down next to him.
Miles offered him a hot cuppa coffee.
"Thanks," Geordi said as Miles passed him a steaming mug.
"You know it's kind of beautiful in a way," Miles remarked as he watched the swirl of light as it was consumed into the singularity.
It had been nearly four hours since Data had left.
After detaching Data's cranial unit and launching it in the probe, they had placed Commander Data's body in the corner of the forward section where it was still sitting – a glaring reminder that Data was drifting out there somewhere detached and alone.
Geordi had been sitting at the helm since, unable to look at it.
"He's probably already worked out a plan to get us out of here," Miles said in an effort to cheer up Geordi.
"Maybe," Geordi said glumly.
He had his reservations about Data's rescue plan. It depended on a lot of factors coming together. It was no guarantee, and it put Data at considerable risk.
At the heart of the issue, Geordi didn't like Data's causal disregard for his own safety.
Sure, any good Starfleet officer would make the right call.
But Data had made the decision so quickly and without weighing the pros and cons with his fellow officers. He had dismissed Geordi's protests about the risks.
He hadn't even discussed his own feelings about the matter.
And that's what had most made Geordi feel icky inside.
Data was scared. He had to be.
Geordi recalled that in the short time before the launch – a time that he would need friends more than ever – Data had brushed aside his feelings and fallen behind the curtain of being an 'emotionless' android.
"So, what's your promise to yourself?" Miles asked nonchalantly.
For the first time in hours, Geordi tore his gaze away from the event horizon.
He looked at Miles, confusion etched on his face.
"My what?" Geordi asked.
"Your promise to yourself," Miles repeated. "You know, if we make it out of here."
Geordi shook his head.
He didn't follow.
"Anytime a man goes through summat like this, he's got to make a promise to himself," Miles explained. "Situations like this can make you close in on yourself, scared of the world. Scared of what could happen. You've got to make a promise to yourself as a reminder to stay out there. Not be afraid of the risk of living life to the fullest."
Geordi considered the words of his friend.
He knew Miles had been through plenty of scraps during his time in Starfleet.
The man had a knack for trouble, but he always seemed ready to dive back in when needed.
Geordi knew Miles was the type of friend that wouldn't hesitate one nanosecond to act.
"You've got to remind yourself to be a little bolder, a little braver," Miles went on.
He paused and grinned.
"If we make it out of this one, I'm going to ask Keiko to marry me," Miles confessed.
For the first time since Data's departure, Geordi grinned.
"Miles, that's fantastic!" Geordi exclaimed. "Congratulations."
"Well, she's got to accept first," Miles cautioned. "Don't want to jinx it."
He winked.
Miles didn't believe in superstitions, but he wanted to bring Geordi out of his foul mood.
"Now, what's your promise, then?" Miles asked.
Geordi's shoulders slumped, and he shrugged.
"I don't know," Geordi replied. "I guess I'll have to think about it."
What Geordi didn't share is that there was one thought that drifted to the forefront of his mind.
He'd been dancing around his attraction to a particular Ensign for weeks.
Geordi's own insecurity about relationships had been a hang up. Whenever he tried to initiate a relationship, he usually wound up trying too hard.
He was always finding excuses to set the issue aside.
But the longer he sat here watching certain death inch closer, the more those excuses seemed trivial in the grand scheme of the universe.