Author's Note: Thank you for sticking with this story and for all of your support!
We're back in the swing of things as our crew heads across the Alpha Quadrant to reach the Jarada sector for an important diplomatic mission.
Chapter specific CW: this chapter does contain a scene with one of our characters experiencing a physical injury. Some hurt/comfort.
But this is the Starship Enterprise. And 'routine' missions so rarely go according to plan…
Data and Geordi were down in the Engineering cargo bay when their combadges pinged.
"Transporter room two to Lieutenant Commander Data," Miles's voice rang out.
"Data here," he responded as he tapped his combadge.
"Are you ready for the next shipment? Security is waiting to beam aboard another weapons shipment," Miles explained. "So I can do it now or you'll have to wait until after we complete the weapons check-in protocols."
Whenever a weapons shipment was transported aboard the ship, there was a detailed check-in procedure. Completion of that process would require locking down the transporter functions for at least thirty minutes while Security completed their sweep and logs.
"You may proceed with sending the next shipment," Data instructed.
"Yeah, go ahead, Chief," Geordi added. "We're looking good down here."
There was no telling when the next time would be that the Enterprise would get back to a resupply station like McKinley – or what may occur between then and now.
While she was certainly well-stocked and capable of traversing long distances without the need to stop for fuel, medical, or operational stocks, it was important to take advantage of resupply opportunities whenever they were available.
McKinley Station in Earth's orbit was one of the main starbases designed specifically to conduct maintenance, repair, and resupply for Starfleet vessels.
Opportunities like this were rare and all of the department heads were keen to see to it that they were fully prepared for the months ahead. That meant Medical was bringing on extra supplies, Operations was loading in engineering equipment and resources for repairs, and Security was restocking its depleted armaments.
It was 11:00 hours and the crew of the Enterprise had been up since early that morning working to oversee their final resupply.
As Chief Operations Officer, Data had his hands full working to monitor the progress and coordinating a schedule to ensure all departments had equal access to transporter usage, cargo bay storage space, and personnel to make it all happen.
They'd already had an anti-grav unit go down in ship's stores which meant Operations team Alpha was sharing with the Medical team.
Data was with Geordi, physically shifting crates of spare coil to try and speed up the process so that they could lend their anti-grav unit to help with the backlog in ship's stores.
The Captain wanted to be underway to the Jarada system by 18:00 hours and that would mean working overtime to complete their tasks.
"Hey, Data," Geordi said as he loaded another crate. "You want to talk about what happened last night?"
"I am feeling better now, Geordi," Data replied.
To Geordi's dismay, he did not elaborate.
"That's great. You certainly seem better," Geordi said. "But that wasn't an answer to my question."
Silence fell between the pair.
"If you don't want to talk about it, that's alright. No pressure," Geordi assured him. "I just want to be sure you're talking to somebody."
"Thank you, Geordi," Data said.
And he meant it.
"I-" Data paused, searching for the right word. "I will admit I was in an uncomfortable emotional position last night. One that I have never experienced before."
Data set the crate he was carrying down and took a deep, synthetic breath.
"It was unsettling," Data admitted.
Geordi guided the anti-grav unit with the next crate over to the designated storage area. Using the controls, he carefully brought it down on top of the previous crate and detached the holds.
"Geordi, what do you do when you get angry?" Data inquired.
It was a question that had weighed heavily on his mind since the night before.
In considering Tasha's advice to find a healthy coping mechanism, Data had drawn on the experience of those around him.
Whenever Tasha was upset, she burned off her anger with work – either actual work in the Security office like routine phaser maintenance or through physical work on the holodeck.
It forced her to focus her energy and she liked the endorphin rush of a good workout.
But Data knew gruelling exercise wouldn't provide him with serotonin.
For Counsellor Troi, a chocolate sundae was the best way to deal with painful emotions. Whenever she had a draining session or the weight of being the ship's metaphorical shoulder took its toll, Deanna turned to chocolate and sugar for the solution.
And while his newfound sense of taste was something Data had come to embrace, it could not give him the same release of endorphins that Counsellor Troi experienced when consuming hot fudge.
Commander Riker enjoyed playing his trombone whenever he needed to blow off some steam. Data played a variety of instruments with great proficiency, and he found solace in music. However, he suspected that for Commander Riker the relief came from having to focus all of his energy on the skill required to play.
The nature of Data's positronic matrix meant that even while expending considerable processing capacity to the act of playing an instrument, he was still capable of simultaneously processing many other topics – including his emotions.
"I dunno, Data," Geordi shrugged. "Listen to music, go for a boat ride on the holodeck. Sometimes I like to get lost in a good book."
One of Geordi's endearing qualities was that he so rarely got frazzled by anything.
"Hmm," Data responded as he moved on to the next crate.
His reaction indicated that he was disappointed with the answer.
"Data?" Geordi pressed.
"I appreciate your feedback, Geordi," Data began. "However, I find that such activities do not provide sufficient processing capacity requirements to enable me to divert my attention."
Geordi nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip for a moment as he considered Data's statement.
"I hear you," Geordi said.
He knew Data's computing skills enabled him to simultaneously process millions of things at once without the slightest indication that his mind was working in overdrive.
"You need something to take your mind off it for a while," Geordi said. "A distraction."
"Yes," Data said. "Perhaps I could find a way to slow down my processing. A manual buffer."
Geordi crossed his arms and leaned back against the crates. He moved his head side to side as he tried to think about how to help Data.
He was reluctant to suggest tinkering with Data's programming to find a solution. Data wasn't just an incredibly advanced piece of machinery – he was Geordi's best friend. And Geordi had always been more than a little uncomfortable playing surgeon.
I'm an engineer, not a doctor. Geordi had often quipped.
"Data, wouldn't it be better to try and find something that occupies more of your neural net rather than trying to implement some artificial limit?" Geordi suggested. "Maybe up the ante a little?"
"Up my ante?" Data inquired. "Are you suggesting more poker?"
Geordi chuckled.
"Maybe. What I'm saying is find whatever activity takes the most of your processing and do it," Geordi clarified. "Just focus on it a little more than you usually would."
Data blinked, attempting to comprehend Geordi's idea.
"You like listening to music. Maybe instead of doing ten songs at once, you do twelve," Geordi proposed. "Or instead of painting on a canvas, head to the holodeck and paint a mural."
Data cocked his head to the side as he thought about the various hobbies and leisure activities he enjoyed.
"Or do both at the same time," Geordi added with a grin. "Whatever floats your boat."
"Geordi, the density of my structure means that I lack the buoyancy to float," Data replied.
His voice was serious, but after a few seconds the corner of his lip curved upward.
"Was that a joke, Data?" Geordi asked.
"Was it funny?" Data inquired, eager for feedback.
"You're getting better," Geordi said as he slapped Data's arm.
A few decks over, Tasha was sitting on a bench in the armoury as she tested the resonance frequency indicator on another phaser rifle.
While it may have seemed like overkill, Tasha ensured every phaser was individually inspected before signing it into inventory. A single phaser with a faulty resonance (whether through manufacturing error or sabotage) frequency could overload. An overload in the armoury could trigger a chain reaction and cause considerable structural damage to the ship.
"How was the rest of the reception?" Tasha asked.
"Uneventful," Worf replied.
"Oh? No reunions? You didn't run into any old friends?" Tasha pried.
From the opposite end of the bench, Worf looked up from his phaser and made a face.
He knew precisely what she was asking about, and he wasn't keen on discussing the matter.
Tasha was attempting to solicit information about K'Ehleyr again.
"Alright, alright," Tasha said, conceding defeat. "I can take a hint."
Tasha reattached the power cell cover and returned the phaser rifle to its holding crate.
"She's beautiful," Tasha commented as she marked off the rifle on her PADD. "Gorgeous hazel eyes."
"They are brown," Worf said sharply.
He paused from his work on the rifle and looked off, gazing at nothing as if lost in a memory.
"The same shade as the ru'quat stones of the Tahcreq river on Qu'nos," he sighed.
"Oh?" Tasha smirked.
Worf realised he'd walked right into her trap. He grumbled something indecipherable under his breath and returned his attention to the rifle in his hands.
It was a sensitive subject for Worf – which is why Tasha had always been careful to tiptoe around the matter. But she suspected Worf still carried a torch for K'Ehleyr and that it was his own stubbornness that was preventing any sort of relationship.
"Sorry," Tasha apologised.
"No," Worf replied without looking up. "You are not."
A few hours and several dozen crates of supplies later, Tasha and Worf had completed their inspection and were ready to begin reviewing the routine safety sweeps that the rest of the Security team had conducted on the other departmental supplies.
"I'll handle the Engineering cargo bay," Tasha said. "Can you take Medical?"
"Consider it done," Worf replied as he took the PADD from her hand.
Tasha made for the nearest turbolift.
Stepping on, she found herself face-to-face with Captain Picard.
"Sir," she said politely.
"How's the sweep?" Picard inquired.
"So far, so good, sir," Tasha replied.
"Excellent," Picard responded.
He was on edge about their upcoming mission to the Jarada sector. Tasha could sense the tension radiating off of him, even if Jean-Luc was doing his best to portray a demeanour of confidence.
Not that Tasha could blame him – the Jarada situation had them all feeling anxious to some degree.
"How is your speech to the Jarada coming along?" Tasha inquired.
"Fine, fine," Picard replied simply.
"I'm sure it will be great," Tasha assured him, hoping to relay her confidence in his abilities.
Even Captain's needed encouragement from time to time.
Captain sighed and rubbed his forehead.
"Everything alright, sir?" Tasha inquired, noting that the Captain's posture seemed tense.
"Just a damned headache," Picard replied.
It had started the night before and Jean-Luc suspected he knew why.
"And how was your friend?" Picard asked.
He was eager to change the subject.
"Fine," Tasha replied.
Her response was short and cryptic.
"We missed you after you did not return to the reunion," Picard said. "Was everything alright?"
"Fine," Tasha repeated, flashing him a false smile. "Just tired."
She didn't want to reveal the nature of her meeting with Captain Rixx lest it raise suspicion.
"Oh? Quiet night then?" Picard inquired.
"Yes," Tasha answered politely.
In the back of her mind, Tasha was starting to grow worried. It wasn't like Captain Picard to ask so many questions. He did not enjoy small talk and she knew there had to be a reason behind him prodding for information.
Only, Tasha didn't know if it was due to nerves because of the Jarada mission, suspicion over her slipping away during the reception to meet with Captain Rixx, or whatever had caused Data's unusual emotional response.
An uncomfortable silence fell between the pair.
"Computer, halt," Captain Picard ordered suddenly.
Tasha inhaled sharply and braced herself for a barrage of questions.
"Sir-" Tasha began to say.
"Eleven years ago I came down on you rather hard when you did not respond to my request that you stay in communication with me after we met in that Carnelian minefield," Captain Picard acknowledged.
Tasha recalled the memory. She'd been a sixteen-year-old Academy cadet. Captain Picard had been impressed with her actions and had requested that she remain in touch as he was keen to have her serve under his command.
When Tasha had failed to respond to his communications, Jean-Luc had sent a rather sharp message to her and a follow-up to her academic advisor to spur a response.
The memory had been bothering Jean-Luc ever since their incident the night before with the Lieutenant Commander.
"I never considered that you were a young woman being asked to communicate with a much older and higher-ranking officer," Picard went on. "I cannot begin to imagine what that must have felt like to be pressured by the differences in our ranks and my position of power."
Tasha blinked in surprise, completely taken aback by his statement.
"The thought never occurred to me that you may have chosen not to respond in an effort to protect yourself," Picard admitted.
His face was full of remorse.
"Tasha, I am so sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable as a cadet all those years ago," Picard apologised.
Jean-Luc felt a sense of relief at having gotten that off his chest. It had kept him up half the night fretting over concerns about the way he had treated her. While they had now enjoyed a decade of friendship, he still couldn't help but feel guilty about the manner in which it had all started.
"Sir, thank you. But you don't need to apologise," Tasha said.
Tasha wasn't quite sure what to say.
True to form, Tasha fell back on her self-deprecating humour to deflect from the awkwardness of the situation.
"I was afraid to respond because, well," Tasha laughed. "I couldn't fathom what a decorated starship captain like you could possibly want with a scrappy little nobody like me except-"
Suddenly, Tasha stopped laughing.
She cleared her throat and turned back to face the lift door.
"Anyways, it's not-" she said in an effort to mask her sudden embarrassment.
"You were going to say except to abuse my position to take advantage of you," Picard finished for her. "And you have never been a scrappy little nobody."
Tasha straightened her posture.
"Did something happen last night that I should be aware of?" Tasha asked.
It came out rather more defensively than she had intended.
When he did not react, Tasha turned and looked at Captain Picard to prompt a response.
Jean-Luc had no desire to betray Data's trust. It was evident that whatever had occurred had been enough to set Data off.
"I believe that question is a conversation between you and Commander Data," Picard responded cryptically.
He turned back to the lift door and ordered the turbolift to resume.
"Computer, belay that order," Tasha commanded. "Sir?"
She wasn't going to let him get away with firing a torpedo like that with no follow up. Between the Captain's strange apology and Data's emotional breakdown, it was clear something had occurred at the reunion.
"Sir, please," Tasha pressed.
She was too damn observant for her own good. Picard thought to himself.
He had apologised to clear his own conscience - and in doing so had given her all the clues needed to piece together that there had been an incident.
"Mr Data had a terse conversation with a rather egotistical officer," Picard explained.
It couldn't be. Tasha thought to herself.
"A Commander Bruce Maddox?" Tasha demanded heatedly.
It had to be Maddox.
Tasha couldn't fathom any other reason why Data would be so upset – and it would explain Captain Picard's unusual apology. If Data had shared with the Captain the details of his own abuse under Maddox, it may have gotten the Captain thinking about how younger officers perceived his own interest in their careers.
"No," Picard responded. "I didn't get his name. Mr Data seemed to recognise him. A Lieutenant Commander. First name was Christopher."
The shock that registered in Tasha's face did not go unnoticed by the Captain.
"Thank you, sir," Tasha said stiffly before ordering the turbolift to resume.
Her mind was reeling.
Had Data confronted him?
Tasha had not disclosed any of the details of their relationship.
Had anyone else witnessed the scene?
She didn't want to think about what Christopher might have said or done. It was embarrassing enough to know the Captain had witnessed an interaction between the two. She tried to suppress the thought that the other officers had been present too.
It had been such a long time ago.
Tasha knew she shouldn't feel ashamed. But she couldn't help but feel embarrassed about her own conduct. She was mortified by the thought that any of her colleagues would learn about that part of her life.
Tasha was concerned about what they might think.
If they knew the rock-steady Security Chief had once been-
Tasha stopped the thought, closing her eyes as she felt her face grow hot.
"Computer, halt," Picard ordered.
Tasha felt his hand on her shoulder.
"Tasha?" Captain Picard asked.
Tasha took a shaky breath and thumbed away a thick tear that had run down her face.
"Whatever he said last night, please know that I am not that person anymore," Tasha said quickly. "Sir, I was young and foolish and desperate to rise above my station. And Christopher was so much older I just-"
She paused. Captain Picard could see her hands were trembling.
"He seemed so refined, and I thought that I could trust him, that he-" Tasha stopped, swallowing back a fresh batch of tears that were threatening to start. "I was an idiot, sir. And if I could take back-"
"Tasha," Picard said gently. "You do not need to explain yourself to me."
By the time Tasha had reached the Engineering cargo bay, Tasha was feeling far less ruffled.
She was still full of questions but knew that those questions would have to wait.
They had a job to do in order to get underway to the Jarada sector.
"T," Geordi said, waving her over.
He was standing down one aisle of crates as he ran through a checklist with Ensign Gomez.
"Yeah, that looks good," Geordi said. "Run through hyperspanner inventory and then let's do a check on backup conduits."
He handed the PADD back to Sonya and she set off for the secondary cargo bay.
"So?" Tasha asked as she approached him.
"So?" Geordi questioned, not following.
Tasha motioned with her eyes in the direction Sonya was headed.
"How are things going between the two of you?" Tasha inquired.
"Good," Geordi replied.
He exhaled, nodding slowly.
"It's good," Geordi went on. "I'm good. And…and she's, erm-."
He rocked his head back and forth.
"Good," Geordi concluded awkwardly. "We're both-"
"Good?" Tasha guessed.
"Yeah," Geordi nodded.
He cleared his throat and then leaned in close.
"Do you ever feel like things are going too well and the bottom's going to drop out?" Geordi asked in a low voice. "And how the hell am I supposed to know if things are moving too fast or too slow?"
"Oh you've got it bad," Tasha teased.
Geordi quirked an eyebrow at her.
"I happen to like her," Geordi said. "And I don't want to mess it up."
"Then just relax and be yourself," Tasha replied with a grin.
Geordi had gone through a string of bad luck when it came to dating prior to meeting Sonya. Technically, they weren't an item.
At least not yet.
They were taking things slow. Concerned over his prior string of disappointments, Geordi wasn't keen to repeat the experience. Deep down, Geordi was a true romantic. He liked soft lighting, mood music, and tender words.
Unfortunately, that kind of romantic evening had scared away Christie Henshaw.
And Ensign Suzanne Dumont.
When Geordi had attempted to woo Lieutenant Yang, he had been so worried about coming on too strong that he'd overcompensated – leaving Lieutenant Yang with the impression that he was aloof and uninterested.
"You really think so?" Geordi asked as he scratched the back of his head.
"What's not to like?" Tasha responded. "Besides, you flash her one of those smiles and she won't be able to resist you."
Geordi blushed.
Across the ship, Captain Picard was in his Ready Room with Counsellor Troi, Commander Riker, and Data to discuss their upcoming meeting with the Jarada.
The Jaradans were notoriously strict about protocol and their procedure required Captain Picard to greet them in their own language. The complexity of the Jaradan language complicated the matter. It was critical there be no errors.
"Aaaaard klaxon leeeesss," the Captain recited.
"Not quite," Deanna commented, evaluating his latest attempt.
Counsellor Troi had an uncanny ability for picking up languages with ease and had been guiding Captain Picard in his efforts to learn the subtleties of such a difficult language.
"I don't know if I'll ever master the Jaradan tongue," Picard sighed.
"Do they even have tongues?" Commander Riker asked jokingly.
"Not in the way most humanoid species do," Data answered. "They are capable of consuming both solid and liquid-based nutrients and can distinguish taste. In fact, what we would consider to be their tongues is actually something that resembles more a…straw."
"Thank you, Mr Data," Picard said with an air of finality, signalling it was time to end discussion on the matter of the Jaradan physiology.
"Think of it as a 'e' with a grave accent," Deanna suggested. "The sound is neither silent nor reduced."
The Captain cleared his throat and made a second attempt at the pronunciation.
Deanna frowned.
"Consider trying an 'ai' sound," Data offered. "Like in 'fair' or the French 'père'."
Captain Picard chuckled.
"French? So I'm making a right muck up of it when I absolutely should be better capable of grasping it," Picard laughed.
"It is an obscure language from Earth," Data replied before launching into a short overview of the language's history and its romantic Indo-European roots.
He hadn't meant to insult the Captain's intelligence on the matter – it was just how his brain worked.
"Mr Data, the French language represented civilisation for centuries on Earth," Picard said, rather more gruffly than intended.
"Indeed, sir," Data said in agreement. "Even through the twenty-first century, the language was widely used in parts of the European Coalition including the historical regions of Belgium, Switzerland, Luxembourg, and…France."
Data trailed awkwardly as he connected the dots between the Captain's testy response and his own comment.
"Maybe we should try the next part, hmm?" Deanna advised.
"Blag blan ar'nik kar'nik," the Captain recited.
Deanna and Commander Riker exchanged a knowing glance.
"No good?" Picard asked.
He didn't wait for a reaction. He could hear it hadn't been a success.
Jean-Luc sat back on the edge of his desk. He sat the PADD down on the surface and crossed his arms.
"Why don't we work with the audio recordings," Will Riker offered.
"Are you feeling alright, sir?" Deanna asked.
She could sense the Captain was in pain – and wasn't just from the stress of the Jarada situation.
"It's nothing. Just a headache," Captain Picard said. "Why don't we pick this up tomorrow?"
He needed a break from learning the Jarada greeting. It would take them several weeks to reach the Jarada sector. He would have time to revisit the matter.
The computer pinged.
"Oh Jean-Luc!" Lwaxana's voice rang out. "I'm hosting a little soiree before I leave, and I thought you might like to join me for dinner tonight and discuss the planning?"
Deanna could sense the Captain's tension level had gone from a five to an eleven with her mother's invitation.
He may have weeks to prepare to learn the Jaradan greeting, but he also had eight more days with Lwaxana Troi and Jean-Luc was burning through excuses faster than he'd anticipated.
"Hello? Hello?" Lwaxana said.
There was an audible growl of frustration.
"Mr Homm! I thought you said this thing was on!" Lwaxana huffed.
"Mother, Captain Picard has a heavy workload today," Deanna responded. "But I will gladly join you this evening and I'm sure Commander Riker would love to join us."
Commander Riker sat back on the Captain's sofa, shaking his head with a smile.
"Computer, disconnect audio," Riker ordered.
He turned to Deanna.
The things I do for you, Imzadi. Riker mused to himself.
Come now. You didn't think a prize like me came without strings? Deanna responded telepathically.
Near the bottom of the ship on deck thirty-seven, Tasha climbed down from a ladder that lined the reserve torpedo storage containment.
Through careful delegation of labour, the Security team had managed to complete their check-ins for all primary torpedo bays. Tasha was conducting her final inspection on the secondary bays.
She needed to finish before the ship could get underway. At Tasha's insistence, they were withholding their departure from McKinley station until security had cleared all new armaments.
And because of Tasha's incessant attention to detail, she was reviewing everything herself for one final inspection. It was a habit she had gotten in since her days running as a courier for an arms trader on Turkana.
Tasha didn't leave things to chance.
She pulled out her PADD and ran through the checklist for the subsection L-113.
Before she could move on to subsection L-114, she felt a firm pair of hands on her shoulders.
"You are strained," Data commented.
"Mmm, that's one word for it," Tasha replied.
She closed her eyes and relaxed into the feeling of the hands massaging away the tension in her shoulders.
"Not that I'm complaining, but what's with the sudden tenderness?" Tasha asked.
Data paused.
"I am attempting to diffuse my own stress," Data confessed.
Data explained that he'd been chatting with Geordi about how humans coped with anger and stress. One of the things Geordi had often done during difficult problems in Engineering was to invite his team to dinner on the holodeck. Geordi would make a large batch of his homemade pasta, and everyone got a chance to relax.
It made Geordi feel good to bring others joy and Data was hoping to emulate that.
"So you thought you'd come down here and sweep me off my feet?" Tasha asked.
"No," Data replied.
He reached around and took hold of the PADD.
"I came down here as your Chief Operations Officer to help you finish this before 20:00 hours as Captain Picard would like to get underway," Data said.
The Captain had wanted to depart 18:00 hours and they were already an hour overdue.
"I believe that the Captain is eager to leave as the sooner we leave the quicker we can drop off Mrs Troi at Starbase 121," Data added.
"I can only imagine," Tasha grinned as she turned around.
"I will utilise your checklist to complete the subsections on the aft banks," Data said. "But once we are complete, would you like to share a meal together? And perhaps read the next chapter in Army of the Undead Gorn?"
"Sure," Tasha replied with a grin.
With Data's help it couldn't take more than an hour to finish their work. And after a long day, nothing sounded better than a quiet evening.
Three hours and forty-one minutes later, Tasha unclipped her combadge. She set it next to her PADD on the coffee table in the main room of her quarters.
She stepped over to the replicator and punched in her order by tapping her pinned recipes on the screen. Tasha was too tired to talk.
With a whisky in hand, she collapsed onto the sofa. Tasha kicked her feet up onto the coffee table and let her head fall back.
She closed her eyes and felt the familiar lurch of the ship finally getting underway. The Enterprise was finally leaving spacedock at McKinley station.
It may have been shortly before midnight and hours after Captain Picard had initially wanted to embark, but in the very least they were moving now.
Astromycology hadn't meant to bring aboard a culture of Crescare Cornu-Damae mushrooms.
They couldn't have known that the unique combination of the Galaxy-class containment field and the Security tricorder scan would interact with the mushroom's cellular structure.
And there was no way to predict that such an interaction would cause the perfect growing conditions for the rapidly expanding and dangerously unique fungi.
It seemed the containment fields used around the Enterprise provided an energy signature not unlike the fungi's native habitat. It allowed them to rapidly expand and latch onto the atmospheric air delivery systems. Starting at deck eighteen, they had quickly expanded from there.
Less than an hour after piecing together the problem, the fungi had encompassed the air filtration on six decks.
Within seven hours it would have encapsulated the entire ship.
And twenty-four hours after that, the fungi would begin to release potent toxic spores that could cause the loss of consciousness and organ failure.
At Captain Picard's order, the situation had become a ship-wide Red Alert. Beverly instituted a quarantine of the ship and McKinley station while the crew led teams to clear every inch of each Jefferies tube, crawl space, and storage container of the fungi.
Using a modified phaser spray designed to disrupt the cellular growth and kill the plants without releasing any spores, they had crawled through the ship until it was cleared.
"Would you like me to get you something to eat?" Data inquired.
Tasha shook her head.
She was too tired for food.
Tasha groaned appreciatively when Data slipped off her boots and started to rub the soles of her worn feet.
"I'm sorry," Tasha mumbled.
"Why?" Data inquired.
"I don't want to read anything tonight," Tasha explained. "I don't even think I can look at a PADD again until tomorrow."
She'd spent far too many hours staring at a screen. Tasha had no desire to repeat the experience now.
"You know how I said sometimes humans want to not feel?" Tasha asked.
"Yes," Data replied with curiosity.
"This is one of those times," Tasha replied with a soft laugh.
She was utterly drained – emotionally and physically.
"And I think what feels worst of all is that I don't have the energy to hit the holodeck," Tasha lamented.
She pulled her head up to take a sip of her untouched whisky, downing the glass before laying back against the windowsill.
Data paused and slid onto the sofa next to her.
"I believe I understand," he said.
"How are you feeling?" Tasha asked.
It had been a little over twenty-four hours since Data's emotional breakdown. Tasha still didn't understand what had set it off. But she knew that he'd spoken with Geordi and that was a good start.
"I am coping with my emotions," Data responded after a few seconds.
While there had been plenty of work to keep him occupied, the feelings from the night before had remained. They stayed with him, hanging around him all day like an aura that he couldn't shake.
"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Tasha offered.
"Not particularly," Data answered sincerely.
Tasha gave his hand a gentle squeeze. She would be there to listen whenever he was ready.
"Though I will confess that while I am coping, I do find it unnerving that the feelings remain," Data confessed. "They are there. Ever-present. Unrelenting."
Tasha opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him.
"And while I am functioning in spite of this, I find myself longing to escape from such mental preoccupation," Data sighed.
Tasha smiled.
Data looked confused by her reaction.
"Sometimes I think you're the most human of all of us," Tasha said, sensing that he wanted to question the reason for her grin.
For a brief second, Data was overwhelmed with a pleasantly warm sensation.
He was unsure what to say.
"You just need to find a way to blow off some steam," Tasha said.
Suddenly, an idea clicked in her head.
"You know we've got an hour before that briefing tomorrow. We could get lunch together. Take it to the arboretum or one of the viewing windows and catch up on a few chapters," Tasha suggested.
It would be nice to curl up in some quiet corner of the ship with a Data and a campy horror novel.
"I would like that," Data replied.
"Then it's a date," Tasha said.
She let her fall against Data's shoulder, content to simply side by side as the stars passed by behind them, blurred as the ship travelled at her cruising speed of warp six to the distant Jarada sector.
"Ugh," Tasha grumbled after a few moments. "I need to shower and go to bed."
Her back wouldn't appreciate dozing off on the sofa in her current position. And a bad back would put her in a foul mood for the day tomorrow.
"But I really don't want to get up," Tasha went on.
"Would you like assistance?" Data inquired.
"No," Tasha replied. "Thanks."
With considerable effort, she hauled herself to her feet.
Data did his best not to appear dejected at her response. His offer hadn't been solely for the sake of helping – it had been his hope to initiate a romantic moment.
"That doesn't mean you aren't welcome to join," Tasha called back.
He heard her turn on the tap and she emerged a moment later, casually leaning against the doorframe.
"After all, we should probably make sure you don't have spores lingering around your bioplast," she grinned.
Data's internal power cell sparked, and he made a beeline to join her.
After hastily discarding his uniform, Data slipped in behind her in the shower. Usually, he was careful to fold his uniform and return it to the garment reprocessor.
But tonight he had no such intentions.
His mind was somewhere else entirely and he was grateful for the distraction.
Tasha turned around, brushing her bangs back as she let the water run over her hair.
"Everything alright?" Tasha asked.
Data hadn't said a word since joining her.
He'd been standing quiet and motionless since coming in.
"Yes," he replied strangely.
Tasha could read in his face that there was something eating away at his brain, and she suspected he was still preoccupied with the anger and fear that had consumed him the night before.
"What are you thinking about?" Tasha asked.
He'd been staring – she assumed – at nothing. Tasha knew he had a habit of glazing over like that whenever he was lost in thought.
"Geordi," Data replied without breaking his gaze.
Tasha bit back a grin.
She was certainly used to the strange places Data's mind could drift to. Their relationship was anything but typical and, at times, Tasha simply had to roll with the absurd.
"You're staring at my wet, naked body and thinking about Geordi?" Tasha asked with a smirk.
"Yes," Data admitted.
She wasn't upset. And Data understood from the tone of her question that it was meant to politely nudge him that it was odd.
There was no malice intended. She wasn't judging him. In fact, Tasha found his quirks endearing.
Data knew this. But he had also requested that Tasha point out instances like this whenever they did occur. He felt safe to 'be himself' around Tasha and some of his friends – but he was desperate to perfect his imitation of human behaviour around others.
"Rather, I am thinking of something Geordi said," Data informed her.
It was clear that whatever it was, it had overtaken his thoughts. They were too far gone in the spiral to pull back now. Tasha braced herself for a detailed explanation of propulsion theory or seventeenth century proto industrialisation.
Which was alright by Tasha.
If it kept Data's mind off his emotional turmoil for a while and gave him the escape he needed, she was happy to oblige.
"Geordi suggested I should focus on the activities that occupy a significant portion of my processing capacity and, as he said, do them more," Data continued.
She knew it was hard for him to find ways to shut down and relax. His mind worked faster than anything – even the Enterprise computer.
"I know it's hard for you to find ways to do that, but maybe Geordi's on to something?" Tasha suggested, hoping to instil support for the idea.
"I have expended considerable effort on the subject today," Data went on. "You are correct, it is difficult to find things that consume a substantial amount of processing capacity. At least, an amount sufficient enough to provide a distraction."
Tasha's heart went out to him.
She reached up with her left hand and cupped his face.
He shuddered at the touch.
"Data, I'm so sorry," Tasha said. "We'll find a way to-"
She stopped as Data captured her lips with his own.
"I believe I already have," Data confessed. "I apologise. I was testing a theory."
While the kiss had taken her off guard, she wasn't angered by it.
"It's alright," Tasha assured him.
She smiled and ran her hand back through his hair. It was wet now and hanging in his eyes. Tasha was just happy that for the first time since climbing into the shower, he could make eye contact with her.
"I'm just glad you're onto something. Maybe tomorrow you can show me-"
"You," Data said, cutting her off. "It is you."
He leaned in close, inches from her mouth.
"Oh," Tasha replied softly.
She didn't quite follow but he was staring at her in the way that made her feel warm.
"Us," Data whispered as he reached up to cup her face.
"Oh," Tasha repeated with a different inflection.
This time it wasn't polite confusion.
Tasha Yar had stared down Orion pirates, black-market arms dealers, and Cardassian foot soldiers without so much as flinching.
Yet, she still couldn't fathom how this awkward, soft-spoken Operations officer could make her feel bashful with nothing more than a look.
Finding herself at a loss for words, she bit her lip.
For Data, it was exactly the kind of thing he needed. He briefly pondered if it was his programming, research, or her that enabled him to feel comfortable acting this way.
He could shrug off misconceptions about himself, set aside the assumptions of being misunderstood, and take the risk of exploring his own desires.
She didn't find him dull or mechanical. She didn't see him as naïve. And he'd never been a curiosity.
Tasha cared as much about his own rights and feelings as she did her own.
"Us," Data repeated.
The rest was left unsaid.
Data closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth against hers. Tasha's back hit the wall of the shower as Data lost himself under the water between the steam and the sensation of being together.
"More?" Data inquired.
"Yes," Tasha panted, bracing herself for what was to come.
She whimpered as it made contact with her skin.
"Sorry," Data repeated.
"Not your fault," Tasha assured him.
She was lying face-down on her bed while Data delicately removed another piece of the reinforced polymer wall from her back.
"It was never my intention to-" Data began to say.
"I know," Tasha said.
She was doing her best to keep any hint of irritation from her voice.
Tasha knew Data felt horrible. It was torture enough for him already. She knew he didn't need her adding on to it by getting testy.
Data's attempt to take Geordi's advice had worked a little too well.
Things had been going great.
For the first time since the incident at the Command Conference, Data had felt wonderful – right up to the point that the wall in the shower had given way under the pressure.
With a sickening crack and a sharp pain, Tasha had found herself with a back full of shattered reinforced polymer tiles.
"Once again, may I say that I would appreciate it if you would let Doctor Crusher check out your injuries," Data said.
"I am not explaining this to Beverly," Tasha said adamantly.
No amount of creativity was going to sufficiently satiate the Doctor's curiosity in this incident. One look from the Doctor, and Beverly would know precisely what had occurred – and would be insufferable about the matter until she got details.
"I don't want her imagination running wild," Tasha confessed. "I don't think I could live with that."
"We will have to tell Commander Riker," Data said.
"Don't remind me," Tasha whined. "Not tonight. In the morning, OK?"
Requisitions for serious repairs to crew quarters required the First or Second Officer to sign off. They could not sign off on their own repairs.
As embarrassing as it was, they didn't feel right having Data authorise the requisition.
Not only had he been involved, but their personal relationship also presented a moral dilemma. Ethical to a fault, they both agreed they had a moral obligation to have Commander Riker sign off to ensure there was no conflict of interest.
"He's going to know, Data," Tasha said.
Tasha hissed as Data set to work with the dermal regenerator.
"Please," she requested. "Let's wait. I can't face him tonight."
Once completed with the dermal regenerator, Data applied an analgesic cooling gel to help with the pain.
Data didn't think it was possible to feel worse than he had the night before.
But all of that had changed now.
Although he had not voiced his concern, he was starting to have the same thoughts as he had experienced following the Command Conference.
These emotions weren't just making him feel bad – they were dangerous.
He had never intended to injure Tasha, but he had found himself lost in the moment. Data had permitted himself to relax enough to the point that he had been careless.
Just as he had been overcome with anger and keen to break something, his feeling of pleasure had been equally as dangerous.
What if she is afraid of me? Data thought as he was gripped with panic.
Tasha gingerly rolled over to her side so she could look at him properly.
"Stop," Tasha said.
She took hold of his hand and pressed a firm kiss to the back of it.
"This was not your fault," she insisted.
"My actions hurt you," Data said.
Tasha tipped her head to the side, indicating she didn't quite agree with that statement.
"It is unnecessary to feign acceptance for my benefit," Data went on. "Would not feelings of anger, fear, or revulsion be appropriate?"
Data felt like he'd betrayed her trust. She put herself in his hands and in a moment of weakness, he had risked her safety.
Tasha shook her head.
"I don't feel that way," Tasha confessed. "Sometimes human emotions are funny like that."
Truly, she wasn't mad. Perhaps, a tiny bit embarrassed.
But there was no anger.
"You broke through a reinforced panel because, if I understand you, being together is enough to distract your trillions of calculations per second," Tasha said.
Data dropped his eyes to the floor in shame.
"It's kind of flattering," Tasha shared.
"And the holodeck will be ready in time?" Captain Picard asked.
It was the next day and the entire senior staff was assembled in the Observation Lounge for a briefing with Captain Picard on their preparations for the Jaradan mission.
"Another seventy-two hours, Captain, and we'll have an exact working replica for you to rehearse in," Geordi assured him.
Geordi had been working to build a holographic programme that would simulate the Jaradan Council meeting chambers on their homeworld of Jarada Prime.
The encounter was carefully regulated by a strict set of protocols. Everything from the speed at which the Captain walked, the seating order, and the hand with which he used to drink from had to be precisely executed – or the Jaradans would execute all of them.
"Staffing is adequate to ensure there will be no disruption to the crew shift rotation?" Picard inquired, turning to Data.
Data nodded.
"Yes, sir," Data assured him. "I've arranged two backup teams split between extra crew from the Beta and Gamma shifts. We will be fully covered."
Jaradan protocol dictated that their meeting with the crew of the Enterprise would last sixteen hours. It would be an incredibly long day for the away team involved, but they understood the importance of such a diplomatic meeting.
"Security?" Picard asked.
"Worf and I have selected a solid group of officers for the security team," Tasha explained. "And we'll continue training for the Jaradan protocols as we approach our destination."
Across the table, Will Riker was grinning like a cat.
Tasha had seen the requisition approval come through shortly before lunch after Data had agreed to speak with him about the unusual repair requisition.
Wordlessly, Riker got the message and turned his attention back to the briefing.
"We're due at Starbase 121 in seven days," Picard said. "We'll brief again after that."
With their orders in hand, the crew was dismissed to return to their duties.
Riker was headed for his office and Tasha was on her way back to the main Security office.
"How's your back?" Riker asked out of the corner of his mouth on the way out of the briefing room.
"Fine enough to give you another boxing lesson on the holodeck if you want one," Tasha quipped, reminding him of the last time he'd stepped into the ring.
"Shut up, Riker," Riker said aloud. "Noted."
"Thank you for being discreet," Tasha said quietly as they stepped onto the lift together.
She meant it. Tasha knew for all his banter, Riker wouldn't tell a soul.
"Come on, T. I'm a romantic at heart," Riker said. "Besides, I can't let this get out. My reputation would be ruined."
"It's a pity I won't be joining you. The prospect of meeting such an interesting new people is enticing and I do so enjoy this ship!" Lwaxana exclaimed.
She sighed.
"But I don't think they'll appreciate my sense of," Lwaxana paused as she searched for the right word before settling on 'flavour.'
"Yes, mother," Deanna agreed.
"From what I've read they have no appreciation for the spice of life," Lwaxana said with a wave of her hand.
Yes. There was nothing that Jean-Luc could think of that would be worse than the spontaneous likes of one Lwaxana Troi encountering the protocol-oriented Jarada.
He was grateful that Ambassador Troi was departing.
It had been eight days since the Enterprise had left spacedock at McKinley station. Preparations for the meeting with the Jarada were proceeding without issue, a new wall panel had been installed in Tasha's shower, and Captain Picard was looking forward to two weeks of peace.
Captain Picard was hopeful that with Lwaxana's departure, his headache would follow close behind.
For nearly eight days, Jean-Luc had been struggling with pain. It wasn't terrible, but it seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.
While Jean-Luc adored Deanna, her mother was a lot to handle.
"Oh Jean-Luc," Lwaxana said as she gripped his chin. "I can feel your pain at my leaving."
Captain Picard was aghast.
Deanna was positively mortified that her mother had grabbed the Captain's face.
"Mother," Deanna said sharply.
"Parting is such sweet sorrow," Lwaxana said wistfully before stepping onto the transporter pad.
Remember to write, little one! Lwaxana communicated telepathically to Deanna.
"Energise," Captain Picard ordered.
Chief O'Brien activated the transporter and Lwaxana, Mr Homn, and her obnoxiously large luggage disappeared as they were beamed over to Starbase 121.
Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.
"Well, Number One, please see to our departure plans and register our flight plan," Picard ordered.
"Right away, sir," Riker responded.
Suddenly, their communicators pinged.
"Bridge to Captain Picard," Worf's voice rang out.
Worf was in command of the Bridge at the moment.
"What now?" Picard muttered.
He tapped his combadge to respond.
"Go ahead, Mr Worf," Picard replied.
"We've received an incoming message from Starfleet Command. Priority one. New orders," Worf explained. "We are to rendezvous with a Ferengi ship in the Xendi Sabu system."
Captain Picard, Commander Riker, and Deanna all looked at one another.
"The Ferengi?" Riker asked. "What could they possibly want?"
"Only one way to find out," Picard replied.
"Sir? Are we clear to set a change of course for the rendezvous?" Worf inquired.
Captain Picard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was a sharp pain behind his left temple.
"Are you alright, Captain?" Deanna asked.
She could sense he was on edge about something.
In truth, he had been looking forward to a few quiet days of preparation for the mission. This sudden business with the Ferengi had thrown a wrench in that plan.
Not only was the prospect of meeting the Ferengi unsettling, but an extra mission increased the risk of something going wrong with their mission to the Jarada.
If anything caused a delay, it would spell disaster.
"I'm fine," Picard assured her.
"It is on the way to the Jarada system. And we do have time," Riker advised.
The Enterprise had intentionally built-in extra time on their way to the Jaradan sector to ensure there was no delay.
"Lay in a course change Mr Worf," Picard ordered.
"Acknowledged," Worf responded.
Relations between the Federation and the Ferengi were nearly non-existent. They largely kept to themselves. But with the Border War against the Cardassian, it seemed Ferengi-Federation contacts were on the rise.
Captain Picard recognised that if the Ferengi were making diplomatic overtures, this side mission could be just as important as the Jaradan assignment.
"Sir?" Riker inquired.
"I'll be in my Ready Room, Number One," Picard said.