Author's Note: Thank you for you continuing support on this story.

As a reminder, in this series there's about a year between Encounter At Farpoint and The Naked Now. I wanted to establish stronger relationship bonds between the crew before this story began.

Shoutout to my collaborator, Geri AKA Lady_Lore. Tasha's statement during their session with Deanna was drawn from her Missing Scenes retelling of The Naked Now.

*Majel Barrett voice* And now, the conclusion of Hollow Pursuits…

The next morning, Data was lying in bed experiencing a strange dream. In recent months, his rest programme had occasionally initiated dream sequences. Often these featured scenes from literature or theatre that he was familiar with.

Occasionally, they were more mundane – like his shifts on the Bridge, walking through the corridors of the Enterprise, or playing his violin in Ten Forward.

Presently, his rest programme was running a dream programme that was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. However, Data would label it as 'unusual.'

In his dream, Data was crawling through the Jefferies tubes. He was not certain of which Jefferies tube or what his purpose there was. Data only knew that he needed to keep moving down the tube.

He turned at a junction and climbed up the ladder into one of the subsystem tubes.

As he continued on, Data felt like the tunnel was growing smaller. His spatial recognition sensors registered a drop in the width of the tunnel that seemed to increase with each passing metre.

As Data crawled through one of the bulkheads, he realised the bulkhead ahead of him was sealed. He wasn't sure how, but Data knew that he could not open it.

He began to crawl backwards to try and find another way around when the bulkhead behind him sealed.

Data paused as he began to theorise how he could escape.

The walls of the Jefferies tubes were beginning to close in around him. There was a power failure, and the lighting went out.

To Data, the experience was all too familiar – just like his time in the box that had contained him during his imprisonment under Bruce Maddox.

Data closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing.

The walls of a Jefferies tube could not simply collapse in on themselves. He could theorise no possible explanation for such a phenomenon other than it being some kind of false perception of reality.

But Data knew he was not supposed to be susceptible to such misperceptions.

He could feel the walls creeping closer. They were pressed against his shoulders now, constricting his body and putting pressure on his skeletal construction. It was a force too strong to resist.

People are prisoners Data, machines are property. He could hear Bruce Maddox say.

He was back in the box in Maddox's lab listening to Maddox discuss how he would take Data apart piece by piece if necessary should he opt to resist.

A moment before his duranium alloy skeleton was about to be crushed under the pressure, Data bolted awake and sat up in bed.

His artificial breathing programme was in overdrive as his system attempted to return itself to normal parameters.

As his optical receptors adjusted to the dark, Data scanned the room. He was in Tasha's bedroom and the walls of the room were in their precise positions – nothing was moving or closing in on him.

Data startled as he felt something brush against his shoulder.

"Whoa, hey," Tasha said as she rested her head against his shoulder.

She had been awoken by Data's sudden movement.

Tasha could feel the rise and fall of his chest and recognised the breathing pattern was off. It seemed as if he were distressed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Tasha asked, concerned.

Data blinked several times as he attempted to process his memory engram from the dream sequence.

"I believe I have just experienced a nightmare," Data shared.

"I'm so sorry," Tasha said.

Data relaxed slightly as Tasha began to rub circles on his back.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tasha asked.

"I believe that my dream sequence somehow interacted with my memories of captivity," Data said. "But I am unsure how or why."

They were completely separate portions of his positronic matrix. The dream sequence was isolated from his engrams. There should not have been any crossover. While he had certainly experienced dreams related to his duties and hobbies aboard the Enterprise, he had never experienced a dream sequence that included memories of actual events.

"I was back in the box," Data confessed.

Tasha pulled him into an embrace.

"You aren't there," she assured him. "You aren't there now, and you are never going back there."

"I do not understand why such a dream sequence occurred," Data said. "And I must admit the thought of such an occurrence repeating itself is a disturbing notion."

Sure, he had awoken to find he was safe.

But the feelings caused by such a nightmare were still present and had left him on edge.

"Sometimes stress can trigger nightmares," Tasha suggested.

"But I am immune to-" Data began to say.

He was cut off as Tasha turned his head to face her.

"You have been through so much in the last two weeks," Tasha said. "And you spend every day doing one of the hardest jobs on this ship. It's not a failing or a malfunction to be stressed."

She knew where his train of thought was headed and had cut it off at the pass.

"It's human, Data," Tasha said.

Data took hold of her hands and set them on his lap.

"Before the momentary disruption in our relationship, we had scheduled an appointment with Deanna for today," Data reminded her.

During the black hole incident, Data and Tasha had agreed to begin couple's counselling with Deanna. But between the incident, the reunion, the Jarada, and Lore – they'd had to schedule and reschedule such an appointment several times.

It was important for Tasha to be there for Data as he navigated his emotional reawakening – and they had both agreed that it was a healthy next step as they worked to reconcile their responsibilities and careers with their relationship.

"Then you will be there?" Data inquired.

Tasha grinned and let her head fall against his chest.

"Of course, I will," she assured him. "Today and every day that you want me there."

They squeezed one another's hands simultaneously.

Tasha looked up at Data and they shared a small smile in realising they were both seeking to reassure one another.

They were both perceptive people, though it occasionally surprised them how in tune they were with one another.

Their moment together was disrupted as Tasha's combadge pinged.

"Security to Lieutenant Yar," Ensign Jeffords's voice rang out.

Tasha rolled off the bed and went to fetch her communicator pin from the counter.

Before she could grab it, Data's combadge went off as well.

"Medical to Commander Data," Doctor Selar paged.

A dark look passed between Data and Tasha.

"Data here, go ahead," Data responded as he retrieved his combadge from the nightstand.

"We've got a problem down in the medical research lab on deck 22," Doctor Selar reported.

"What's happened, Jeffords?" Tasha inquired.

He explained that a Security team had been dispatched thirty minutes earlier to investigate a level-one alert in the medical research lab on deck 22. When they did not report as per standard operating procedure, Jeffords and another officer had gone to investigate.

Jeffords had found the previously dispatched team unconscious on the floor and a storage canister of Chloraxine shattered on the floor.

"I enacted Protocol 45. Sealed the area and notified Sickbay first," Jeffords explained. "Benson and I were able to pull Ensigns Spencer and Keane out. But they're dead, sir."

After initiating an atmospheric seal on the area, Jeffords had notified Sickbay. His next step was to notify the Chief of Security.

A few metres away, Data was getting a similar report from Doctor Selar. She had been the officer on duty in Sickbay when the call had come in and after dispatching assistance, her next job was to inform the Second Officer.

Doctor Selar explained that they had two dead and another two Security officers in Sickbay being treated for Chloraxine exposure.

"I am on my way to the contaminated lab," Data responded.

"You did the right thing, Jeffords," Tasha assured him. "I'm heading there now."

Data and Tasha both threw on their uniforms and pulled on their boots. Tasha rushed off to the lavvy to brush her teeth before leaving.

Tasha stopped as Data stepped up behind her in the mirror.

"I shall see you there," Data said before pressing a quick kiss to the spot below her ear.

"Ee 'areful," Tasha managed to say through a mouthful of froth from the toothpaste.

"Chloraxine is not harmful to my system," Data assured her.

Tasha turned and shot him a look. Even with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, Data got the message loud and clear.

"I will be careful," Data promised.

"I'm sorry," Jeffords apologised. "I should have gone up sooner."

"You couldn't have known," Tasha responded.

She was standing next to a medical exam bed in Sickbay where Ensign Jeffords was being treated for Chloraxine exposure.

Tasha was immensely proud of Ensigns Jeffords and Benson. They had been under no obligation to rush into the lab to try and save their colleagues. In fact, protocol dictated that they should have left the area and then sealed it.

They would both require several days of treatment but would survive – two of her other officers, Ensigns Spencer and Keane, weren't as lucky.

While the Captain would be responsible for officially notifying their families, Tasha hated that it had to occur in the first place. She would draft a letter to Ensign Keane's parents.

Ensign Spencer's husband served aboard the Enterprise as an Operations officer.

Though she had accompanied Captain Picard a number of times on such visits, it never got any easier.

The doors to Sickbay slid open and Data entered.

"Anything I can bring you?" Tasha asked Jeffords.

He shook his head.

"You did good work today," Tasha said. "I'll be back."

She gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and then headed over to check in with Data.

"I have initiated clean-up protocols for the lab," Data informed her.

Due to the atmospheric and surface cleaning necessary, it would be another six hours before Tasha could get inside to physically investigate the scene. Therefore, Data had taken it upon himself to conduct an inspection.

"It was much the same as the previous instances that we examined yesterday," Data described. "I have retained all samples of the broken storage canister and will study them further once our appointment with Counsellor Troi has concluded."

"Right," Tasha nodded as they headed out of Sickbay.

"Welcome back," Deanna said as she sat down across from Data and Tasha.

They were in Deanna's office, sitting on opposite ends of Deanna's sofa. It was their first official counselling session together as a couple and everyone was feeling nervous. That included Deanna, who was feeling out of her element.

She had counselled numerous couples before – but Data was perhaps the most unique individual she had ever worked with.

Deanna outlined the process for them. While she had seen both of them for individual counselling, Deanna wanted to keep the focus with their joint sessions on their relationship specifically. And while they were friends, there were many details that Deanna was not privy to.

"I think it would be important for us to talk about why you both are here and establish the goals of what you hope to get out of these sessions," Deanna began.

Data and Tasha turned to one another.

"Well, um-" Tasha started.

"We are-" Data trailed off, unsure of what to say.

They both trailed off, staring at one another as they searched for the right words. Tasha shrugged and smiled nervously, Data raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.

"Lieutenant Yar and I share a mutual interest in our," Data paused. "Relationship."

"Yeah," Tasha concurred.

They nodded to one another and then turned back to Deanna.

While the answer had been far too vague for her liking, Deanna had anticipated it would take a bit for either of them to warm up.

"I want to ask you both to describe what drew you to your partner," Deanna suggested. "Tasha, why don't we start with you?"

"Well, Commander Data is a friend and a competent fellow officer," Tasha began slowly. "I guess you could say that I enjoy our time together and have a great respect for him."

Deanna glanced at Data.

"Likewise," Data replied. "I regard Lieutenant Yar as an outstanding officer and friend."

Deanna grinned.

She could sense the hesitancy and self-control radiating out from both of them. They were doing their best to maintain their professionalism, describing their relationship and feelings in a diplomatic manner.

It was uncomfortable for anyone to expose their innermost emotions – it was doubly hard for Data and Tasha who had always done their best to separate the personal from the professional.

"I need you both to let go of your ranks," Deanna instructed. "When we're here, you're here in the capacity of being partners and not officers. I know that it's hard because your duty is such an important part of who you both are."

Deanna knew they needed to move beyond that for their sessions to be successful. Deanna explained that while their roles certainly influenced their relationship, it couldn't be the focus of their sessions. She recognised that their careers impacted their relationship on several fronts. And, in time, they would discuss that matter.

But for the moment, Deanna needed them to relax and open up.

They would never get the chance to explore the outstanding issues in their relationship. While minor, there were a number of things Data and Tasha both felt needed to resolve before agreeing to take any future steps together.

"In this office you're two people trying to navigate your relationship," Deanna encouraged. "I would like to talk to Data and Tasha, not a Lieutenant Commander and a Tactical Officer."

"I apologise, Counsellor," Data said.

"No need," Deanna assured him. "What do you say we try this again?"

It was a significant step outside of the comfort zone, but one both Data and Tasha were willing to take together.

Neither of them were quite sure where to begin or exactly how to put into words their feelings. The question had taken them off guard. The underlying reasons behind their connection were known to them but summarising it into a coherent stream of thought was another matter.

"Well, I think that Data is, um, reliable," Tasha began. "And, in many ways, my closest friend."

"Tasha and I share a similar approach to problem-solving and our views on Federation relations with-" Data started to say.

Deanna shook her head.

They were still struggling to step outside of their professional roles.

Deanna instructed them both to close their eyes.

"I want you to tell each other about the moment you knew that you had feelings for your partner. Describe to me how it felt. Share that memory. Whatever the first thing is that pops into your mind," Deanna explained.

Data didn't need time to think.

"Stardate 41038.4," Data said. "Deck 31. 19:41 hours."

It may have seemed oddly specific to Deanna and Tasha.

But Data had known the exact moment. It was a memory that he was familiar with.

"We were supervising the final inventory and installation on the lower after sections of the reserve torpedo bay," Data explained. "I had discovered one of the installation teams had failed to complete the entire checklist procedure for sections R 18 through R 41."

Tasha kept her eyes closed, but Deanna could see the look of surprise in her expression.

"I instructed them to go back and complete the remaining checklist items and then headed for the other end of the weapons bay," Data recalled.

They were massive rooms.

"Once they believed I was out of earshot, they expressed frustration over my orders. And said a number of statements that were….hurtful. Disparaging to my synthetic nature and I was reluctant to pursue the issue as I felt a reprimand for insubordination would do little," Data said.

He had learned over the years when and where to choose his battles.

The Enterprise hadn't even left spacedock at that time.

"You were working nearby and had overheard their comments," Data went on. "You not only backed me up in orders, you reminded them that I was the Second Officer."

Data paused.

"You also told them that I was a person and deserved their respect," Data shared. "You did not know I could hear you. And I have never told you, but that was one of the few times I have ever experienced such respect from a stranger."

Tasha reached across the sofa and found Data's hand.

"You saw me for who I was. You saw me as a person, a fellow officer without any prompting or pressure," Data said.

Data shared that in their limited interactions prior to that moment, Data had recognised there was something different about Security Chief Tasha Yar. She was friendly – asking about his hobbies, his past assignments.

But Data had suspected that such overtures were more out of a sense of politeness rather than actual care or interest. Rarely did such behaviour carry over when he was out of the room.

"You showed me that you were the same person whether you were speaking to me or about me," Data said. "In my experience, such veracity is unusual amongst humans."

Tasha wasn't sure what to say in response. She had never known that Data was aware of that interaction.

"Fifteen days later I observed as you alone were willing to challenge the Q directly," Data commented. "While this was undoubtedly an act of courage, I think it speaks more to your integrity. A trait that I have always admired in your character."

During their mission to Farpoint Station, Data had found Tasha to be a fascinating individual.

Human, but so unlike her colleagues that had grown up in Federation worlds.

"While not romantic in nature, those were the moments in which you, as you would say, caught my eye," Data confessed. "I knew then that I wanted to be in your presence for as often as you would permit it."

Deanna was pleased.

This was exactly what she had been hoping to draw out of them.

"That's great, Data," Deanna said. "Are you comfortable sharing, Tasha?"

Data's hand remained still - present, but not constricting.

Just like him.

"It's difficult to pinpoint 'a' moment," Tasha confessed.

"There is no right or wrong answer," Deanna said, hoping to set her at ease. "Why don't you share whatever comes to mind?"

"When we were alone on Ligon II and I was so afraid that I was going to be trapped there for the rest of my life," Tasha shared. "And the thought of being trapped in a cage like that was unbearable. But you reminded me that I wasn't obligated to accept that fate. I don't think I could have made it through that without you."

Tasha had outwardly kept up her upbeat and sarcastic appearance.

On the inside, she had been terrified.

Had she been trapped there with Geordi or Worf or even Deanna, Tasha wasn't sure she would have felt comfortable enough to open up in the same way.

But with Data, Tasha felt like she could truly be herself.

Her whole self.

The parts she had always kept carefully hidden away from the world – including her biggest insecurities.

Data had seen on that planet, scars and all, alone and afraid, and only been concerned for her well-being.

"You know the first time we were, well, together," Tasha paused. "You made me feel satisfyingly bare."

The way Data had stared at her that afternoon hadn't just been an ego-boost – it had made her feel comfortable.

I do not believe this is a mistake. He had assured her.

"In the weeks between that afternoon and the mission on Ligon II, I had wondered how much of your behaviour during the incident had been caused by the polywater and how much was genuinely you," Tasha explained.

It had been a period of self-doubt in which she had questioned everything about her feelings for her colleague – and whether she could trust what seemed to be his attraction toward her.

"But that night, I knew. I knew that it wasn't just the polywater. You really cared about me," Tasha went on. "And even though it was stupid that Lutan's offhand comment about my scars had stung, you saw right through me and did everything you could to make me feel better about it."

Tasha had a healthy self-image, but Lutan's obvious recoil toward her appearance had still hurt. Without a word, Data had picked up on this. Despite the awkwardness of their situation and the obvious tension that had existed between them since the polywater incident, Data had done everything he could to reassure Tasha.

"You made me realise that I was enough," Tasha said.

She smiled to herself.

"I felt awful that I had pushed you away," Tasha admitted. "And then a few weeks later the life support went out in my quarters from that entity. You were right there. And when I woke up, you had that burnt wire dangling from your circuits."

Data had nearly fried his own system attempting to restart the life support system in her quarters.

"I woke up with you next to me and I was completely blown away with how beautiful you are," Tasha said.

She stopped, suddenly aware of how much she had shared.

"I'm sorry," Tasha apologised. "I didn't mean to dominate the conversation."

"No, no. This is good," Deanna assured her.

Over the course of the next hour, Deanna gained a better understanding of how they had come together. Both Data and Tasha had shared what they were hoping to get out of these sessions.

While they shared a desire to be together, there were some lingering matters that needed to be resolved.

For instance, Data remained continually bothered by Tasha's disregard for her own safety both on the job and during her free time.

Tasha knew that Data longed for a permanent commitment – preferably in the sense of a traditional Terran human marriage.

Data understood Turkana had no marriage custom. At least, not in the same way most other humans saw it. The people of Turkana had long ago dropped many of the customs their ancient Earth ancestors had carried with them across the galaxy.

It was a point of contention between them and one that complicated their situation.

Tasha, what are we? Data had asked her once.

Her answer had been less than satisfying. Tasha had danced around placing a label on their relationship. She loved Data, but she was struggling with the idea of any kind of more formalised commitment.

By nature, she was far too private to ever be comfortable announcing some kind of engagement or wedding.

And it wasn't that Data was pushing for it.

No, he had his own reservations.

Data's desire to have a family stood in stark contrast to Tasha's proclivity for dangerous thrill-seeking hobbies and her commitment to her duty. She wouldn't hesitate to throw herself into harm's way. While there was always a risk associated with service to Starfleet, her role as Chief Tactical and Security Officer only amplified that threat.

At the conclusion of their first session, Deanna had laid out a timeline for the next few weeks. They'd both continue seeing Deanna for their own individual sessions and would meet every other week for their appointments as a couple.

On cue, Data's combadge pinged at the end of their session.

"Commander, I've transferred all of the samples you requested to your lab. I'll meet you there in twenty," Geordi reported.

"Duty calls," Deanna grinned.

"Tasha?" Captain Picard asked as they rode in the lift down to deck 8.

"Sorry, sir," Tasha said shaking herself back to reality.

She'd taken this trip with Captain Picard a number of times - both aboard the Atraides and the Enterprise.

More so than any other department, her officers were seven times more likely to be killed on the job.

Ensign Spencer's husband was an Operations officer and their family quarters were on deck 8.

They stopped just outside of the door.

"Are you sure you're alright, Lieutenant?" Picard asked.

She had been unusually quiet on the lift ride.

"I'm fine," Tasha assured him.

Ensign Spencer's husband knew why they were there - Tasha could see it register in his eyes as soon as the door opened.

There was the momentarily look of disbelief followed by a flash of profound sadness as he understood they had come to tell him that Henry Spencer would not be coming home from his shift.

Tasha had given the same speech dozens of times in different settings as she offered Josh Spencer a shoulder to cry on.

But for some reason, today of all days, it hit differently given her counselling session with Data.

Tasha understood first-hand that Josh Spencer was in for a long process of greiving.

Eventually, he would learn to live with his grief. There would be moments to look forward to - a second love, fond memories.

But the loss of his husband was a void that he would carry with him for the rest of his days.

She knew that the smallest thing could trigger a memory and that there would nights when the grief would hit as such a profound force that it seemed like nothing could stop the tears.

Tasha gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and promised herself that she would never put Data through this.

"Nucleosynthesis," Data announced as he examined the material under the microscope. "The structure of this glass has been altered at the atomic level."

"Could it be a problem with the replicator?" Riker inquired.

Geordi shook his head.

"Unlikely. A problem with the replicator would have affected the contents as well as the glass," Geordi explained.

"A-a-and it doesn't explain all of the other i-incidents," Reg Barclay offered.

"You think these are related?" Geordi asked.

Reg felt like he was on the spot.

"I-I don't know," Reg replied.

He didn't have any proof – only a feeling that all of the incidents across the ship must have some common cause.

"We haven't been able to detect any residual radiation or unusual chemical compounds that would have caused this," Geordi explained.

He and Data had combed through all of the relevant scan reports from the investigations Tasha and the Security team had conducted.

"Based on the fragments I have examined, the most probable explanation is that the glass came into contact with an unshielded power source," Data said. "However, there is no evidence to support that theory other than the damage itself."

They had found no unusual power surges, no faulty connections, and no sign of any kind of energy entity.

"It means we will need to conduct a complete diagnostic check of all Enterprise power systems," Geordi informed them.

It was a tremendous undertaking and would involve pulling in extra staff to complete the work.

"Until we know how the molecular structure of these glass items is being altered, I would recommend we slow our speed to Warp Five," Geordi suggested.

Commander Riker tapped his Combadge and paged the Bridge to apprise Captain Picard of the situation.

"These samples are due on Nahmi IV," Picard reminded them.

"Sir, we wouldn't bother you with something this minor, but it may be a symptom of a more serious problem," Geordi weighed in.

"Do you think we'll need to put in to a starbase?" Picard asked.

"We will have a better idea once we have completed our check of all power systems," Data responded.

Despite his reluctance to delay their mission, Captain Picard trusted Geordi's assessment.

"Will this investigation affect our available power?" Picard questioned.

"We will need to slow to Warp Five," Geordi advised. "And we'll need to shut off some systems."

"We will stagger the systems so that only a few are offline at a time," Data added.

"Make it so," Picard ordered.

With Captain Picard's blessing, Geordi and Data set to work delegating the process for the investigation. The magnitude of their workload required them to bring on extra hands. They had pulled Operations personnel from Security, Maintenance, and the Support team.

There was a brief meeting in the canteen to get everyone up to speed. The plan was for teams of two to start at opposite ends and meet in the middle.

Tasha and Data had taken subsection 21C on deck 32.

Unfortunately, there weren't enough personnel for everyone to pair off.

As suspected, Reg Barclay had been the first to volunteer to work alone. Geordi had assigned him to subsection 23C. It would eventually join up with Data and Tasha's track and he figured Reg wouldn't feel so out of place with them.

Geordi was disappointed as he had been hoping to pair off with Barclay. He thought it might give them a chance to talk and maybe bring Barclay out of his shell.

However, their investigation was far too important and Geordi knew that his project to work with Barclay would have to wait.

"It shouldn't take more than an hour and a half to complete your check," Geordi advised. "Those working solo, it may take a little longer."

With that, the teams had paired off and set to work.

As they crawled along, Data and Tasha discussed the investigation as they worked through their power system checks. There were terminals every fifteen metres that housed couplings that had to be scanned with the specialised diagnostic tool.

Data and Tasha had gotten through the first six checkpoints when they reached a ladder.

Deck 32 was down in the lower aft region of the ship. Because of its design around the weapons storage, phaser banks, and torpedo bays, the surrounding Jefferies tubes were a twisting maze complete with turns, drops, and hidden alcoves.

"After you," Tasha said, motioning to the ladder.

They were less than thirty-seconds into their climb when Data stopped.

"Data?" Tasha asked.

He swayed for a moment, unable to grip the ladder. The neuropathway between his positronic matrix and his motor functioning was disrupted.

Data had lost the ability to move, grasp, or control his body.

The next thing either of them knew, they were tumbling down the ladder shaft to the floor below. It was only about three metres down, but that was more than enough distance for the crash to be a painful one.

Tasha landed on the floor and the full weight of Data's body impacted on top of her a moment later.

She could wiggle her foot so that was a good sign. But her left arm was most certainly broken. There was also a sharp pain in her leg and Tasha was concerned she had fractured it.

"You are injured," Data commented.

"This is not my fault," Tasha said quickly.

Across the ship, Barclay was working his way through his own assigned section.

He had climbed in through the access point on deck 32.

Reg wasn't terribly far in when he heard a sickening clang.

He had failed to properly secure the clasp on his toolkit and the contents had spilled everywhere.

Reg stopped to pick up his tools and return them to his kit.

It was just like when he'd been fifteen with a backpack full of books spilling everywhere in the hallway of his school.

Suddenly, Reg stopped.

He heard Ensigns Vereen and Brix climbing in behind him, using the access point to reach their own assignment one deck down.

They were unaware that Reg was in the tube above them.

From his vantage point, Reg could overhear their conversation.

"Sure am glad he volunteered to go alone," Brix remarked.

"Yeah, who the hell would want to crawl through here with Broccoli?" Vereen scoffed.

Reg sat back against the wall of the tube and closed his eyes.

He knew that was what they called him.

Broccoli.

As exciting as the flavourless, cruciferous vegetable.

It seemed wherever he went, whenever he tried to start again, Barclay's personality (or lack thereof), followed him.

He threw his tools into his kit bitterly. If he were on the holodeck, he wouldn't be afraid to confront them.

In fact, Barclay knew that if he were on the holodeck, he would be the type of man that no one would mock.

Tasha tapped her combadge and attempted to hail Geordi.

There was no response.

"It is likely that the protective casings around these tubes are interfering with the communicators," Data said.

"Oh," Tasha replied.

Despite the lithe frame he cut, Data was really quite heavy. The duranium alloy used in his construction made up a considerable amount of the weight.

"Data, you're sort of crushing my ribs," Tasha grunted as she tried to wiggle out from underneath him.

"I apologise," Data responded.

Right away, she could sense something was wrong.

It was evident in the tone of his voice.

"It would seem that I have lost motor function. There is some kind of interference between my positronic matrix and the synthetic neuropathways that control my extremities," Data explained.

He was doing his best to remain calm.

Inside, Data was panicking.

"In short, I cannot move," Data finished.

"Ok," Tasha responded in an even tone.

It wouldn't do any good for her to lose her cool. She could only imagine how scared Data must be.

"I'm sure Reg will be along in a bit. Once he gets here, we can send him out for help," Tasha said. "Until then, we'll just have to get cosy."

"This is hardly what I would consider cosy," Data replied.

He had a point. They had literally been dropped down a ladder shaft onto a hard polymer floor – caught between the ladder and the wall.

Without warning, Tasha felt something warm and wet.

Data squeezed his eyes shut, horribly embarrassed.

Whatever interference he was experiencing had caused him to eject the contents of his biofluid waste management system. His internal cleaning system was capable of reprocessing eighty-two percent of the fluid that lubricated his biofunctions. However, what couldn't be recycled had to be expelled.

Data's system collected unusable waste in an internal storage containment in his left thigh. Once a month, Data opened a small hatch and drained the excess material waste through a retractable ejection system near his pelvis.

"I-I am-" Data paused, completely frozen by fear of how Tasha would react. "I seem to have lost control of my functioning."

"Data, it's alright," Tasha assured him.

She understood this was likely a humiliating situation for him.

"This has never occurred before," Data said, alarmed.

"It's alright," Tasha repeated.

It was difficult to physically offer support from her position. Tasha managed to grip his forearm with her good hand, and it give it gentle squeeze.

"I am sorry," Data said, feeling utterly dejected.

"You have nothing to apologise for," Tasha said softly.

After all, she couldn't begin to imagine what the experience must have felt like for someone who was always so in control of every aspect of his physiology.

Several decks up, Reg Barclay stepped onto the holodeck and loaded one of his favourite programmes.

He was in the mood for something familiar.

Something that made him feel like he was in charge.

"Computer, load Barclay programme twenty-two," Reg instructed.

The grid-like walls of the holodeck were replaced with green, rolling hills. In the distance, an ancient forest surrounded the neatly manicured grasses of the fictionalised Gainsborough-esque landscape.

There was a Georgian folly near a fast-moving stream. The Musketeers were often found in the area. Handy with a sword, Barclay had managed to get them into the water on more than one occasion.

"Welcome back, Milord!" the holographic Beverly Crusher called out.

She was sitting in the shade under a large, knotted tree with a book of poems in hand.

"Milady," Reg said as he rested his head in her lap on the billowing soft pink skirt of her bodice gown.

In addition to his creative holonovels, Reg was also a costume enthusiast. A part of him regretted not stopping off at his quarters to don his own lavish coat and breeches.

"Shall we read Lord Byron? Or would you prefer Marlowe?" Beverly inquired.

"I'm not sure," Reg sighed.

"How about something more classic?" Beverly suggested.

She cleared her throat and began to recount a familiar favourite.

"When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights," Beverly began, reciting the Shakespearean sonnet from memory. "And for they looked but with diving eyes they had not skill enough your worth to sing."

Reg closed his eyes and felt the tension begin to melt away as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"For which we now behold these present days," she went on in a soothing voice. "Have eyes to wonder but lack tongues to praise."

Two hours into the check of the power systems, every team had reported back – except the team on deck 32. Reports of damage to glass structures continued to filter in from across the ship. There seemed to be no discernible pattern.

"Ensign, did Lieutenant Barclay check in with you?" Geordi asked.

Sonya shook her head.

"No, I haven't seen him," Sonya answered.

Geordi put his hands on his hips. It took every ounce of his patience not to lose his cool. He knew that it wouldn't do any good for him to blow up in front of the rest of the staff.

This was a problem with Barclay's performance and Geordi intended to keep it from becoming an item of gossip.

Geordi tapped the LCARS screen on the main terminal and silently looked up Barclay's present location.

Holodeck Four.

"Engineering to Commander Data," Geordi said as he tapped his combadge.

A few seconds went by with no response.

"Engineering to Lieutenant Yar," Geordi tried again.

He chewed on the inside of his lip as he waited for an answer.

"Sir, I show their team hasn't reported back either," Sonya informed him.

"Ensign, can you start feeding the numbers into the assessment?" Geordi asked.

"Right away," Sonya assured him.

"I'm going to check and make sure the team on deck 32 is alright," Geordi explained.

It was possible the interference in the shielding was preventing their communication. However, if they weren't back yet, that likely meant that they had discovered a problem.

"I'll be back in time to present a preliminary report to Commander Riker," Geordi called out as he rushed out of Main Engineering.

Geordi was crawling along the Jefferies tube when he spotted two thermal signatures up ahead at the bottom of the ladder shaft.

"Someone is coming," Data said as his audio sensors picked up on Geordi's approach.

It was meant to be said as a statement of relief. However, it hadn't sounded that way to Geordi. From their position on the floor and Data's comment, Geordi feared he had just interrupted an intimate moment.

"Hello?" Data called out, hoping to catch the attention of whoever was in the Jefferies tube above.

"Sorry, guys," Geordi called back. "I didn't mean to, well, I thought something happened when you didn't report back."

Geordi blushed.

He felt terrible.

"I didn't mean to sneak up on you, I was just worried," Geordi explained. "I'll, uh, leave you two alone."

"No, no, no!" Tasha shouted.

"Please remain," Data requested.

Geordi froze, staring off toward the power coupling to the left so as to avoid reading their thermal signatures.

"We have been waiting for you," Data said.

"Well, someone – anyone – to come along," Tasha added.

"And you got bored?" Geordi asked. "C'mon, guys. You know I've been supportive of your relationship but if Captain Picard finds out about this, he's going to hit the roof."

There was a long pause.

"Geordi, I need you to get Data off me," Tasha said.

Geordi sat back in the Jefferies tube and shook his head.

"This is not a prank or practical joke, Geordi," Data said, surmising that Geordi was suspicious.

Geordi glanced out of the tube and down the shaft.

"Hi," Tasha said with a weak smile.

They were tangled together on the floor of the shaft next to the ladder. Even from that height, Geordi could clearly see something was wrong.

"I can't radio a medical team from in here," Geordi called down to them. "I'll go back for help."

Tasha shook her head.

"Not necessary. Can you just get the medical emergency kit at the Security terminal near the lift?" Tasha asked.

Had he been capable of frowning, Data would have done so.

"You require medical attention," Data said.

"And I'll get it as soon as we're out of here," Tasha assured him.

Her injuries were a nuisance, and definitely in need of treatment, but Tasha would rather bear the pain of crawling out if it spared Data the embarrassment of being discovered by a medical team after his experience.

She understood the ordeal was new and unwelcome and didn't want him to have to face a humiliating conversation.

Geordi would understand.

"Are you sure?" Geordi asked.

"Please, Geordi," Tasha responded.

"Geordi, you need to radio a medical team as soon as you are free of the interference," Data advised.

"That is not necessary," Tasha insisted.

Geordi didn't like to see them fight.

He hated it even more since they were giving him conflicting orders.

"Please," Tasha whispered. "I'm fine."

She pressed a soft kiss to Data's temple and waited for him to respond.

"But you require-" Data began to protest.

"Nothing that can't wait, ok?" Tasha assured him. "Please trust me."

There was a subtle hint of desperation in her voice.

What she hadn't said aloud was that Tasha knew first-hand how one embarrassing incident could result in months, even years, of ridicule from fellow officers.

As this was the first time such an occurrence had happened to Data, she did not want him to navigate through that emotional experience if they could avoid it.

"Lieutenant Yar is correct, please fetch the medical emergency kit," Data announced.

Geordi was back in less than twenty minutes with the medical kit.

He climbed down the ladder and stopped just above his friends.

Geordi was about to step down when he spied the floor was wet.

"What the?" Geordi began to comment.

Geordi saw Tasha's face grimace at the comment, and he immediately stopped.

"I am sorry, Geordi," Data apologised.

"Are you okay?" Geordi asked in a much softer tone.

"I seem to be experiencing a malfunction," Data shared. "I have lost all motor control. I have also lost control of my biofluid waste storage."

Data paused.

"Geordi, I cannot move," Data said.

The wait had been agonising. Usually whenever he experienced a minor malfunction, Data's positronic matrix was capable of resetting itself. But with each passing minute, the chances of self-repair had grown slim.

"Let's see what's going on here," Geordi said as climbed down next to them.

Their toolkit had fallen with them. Fortunately, Starfleet tricorders were designed to withstand heavy impact.

"Do you mind if I take a look at your cranial circuitry?" Geordi asked.

He always asked.

Whenever he worked on Data's system, Geordi was always certain to get his consent first and would walk him through the procedure.

It was one of the reasons why Data trusted Geordi more than any of the other engineers he had worked with.

"Please," Data responded.

Geordi opened the side panel of Data's cranial unit and conducted a quick scan with the tricorder. He didn't detect anything unusual.

"I'm just going to hook up a diagnostic interface," Geordi informed him.

He connected the wire from the tricorder into Data's cranial port and began to run through a more comprehensive check of his systems.

Geordi's brow furrowed as he noticed one of the indicator lights on the screen was registering a blockage.

"Data, I'm detecting something in your neural pathway facilitator coming from the central processing unit," Geordi said.

He set down the tricorder and reached for a sonic driver and a pair of micro pincers.

"Hold still," Geordi instructed.

"That will not be a problem," Data replied.

Geordi reached in and delicately removed the object. Trapped in the pincers, Geordi held the piece up to get a better idea of what it was.

"Data, your output peripherals contain a small silica glass," Geordi said.

"Nucleosynthesis," Data said, following his line of thought.

"Exactly," Geordi said. "I would bet if we put this under the microscope in your lab, we would see the same kind of damage."

"Can you reroute the main output peripheral through an auxiliary port?" Data inquired.

"Yeah, sure thing," Geordi replied.

He secured the damaged component into a small closing hatch on the base of the sonic driver. It was a feature that most newer drivers contained for holding tiny bits of equipment.

"What happened?" Tasha asked.

"Nucleosynthesis," Data answered.

There was a brief pause and Data realised Tasha likely didn't understand.

"Something has altered the atomic structure of the glass," Data explained. "Just like incidents that have occurred across the ship."

"But I thought we were looking for a power surge as the cause?" Tasha questioned.

"One possible cause," Data corrected. "Glass silica is a unique material that does not exhibit the ordered crystalline structure of most other ceramics but rather a three-dimensional network of tetrahedra where-"

He abruptly stopped.

"Data?" Tasha asked, alarmed.

Data suddenly turned his head side to side, stopping to look at Tasha.

She smiled in relief.

"Hey," she said.

Data, consciously aware that he was crushing her ribcage, sat back.

"Hey," he echoed.

"I've, uh, got the medical kit," Geordi said from behind Data.

"Thank you, Geordi," Data replied without looking away.

"Yeah, thanks. I think we can take it from here," Tasha said.

Geordi didn't want to intrude, but he was concerned.

"Data, isn't there a chance that your other silica-based components could face the same problem?" Geordi asked.

"None of my remaining silica-based components are tied to my critical functions," Data explained.

"Alright, well in that case I've got to see a man about a holodeck," Geordi grumbled.

Geordi was partway to the holodeck when he instructed the lift to pause. On a whim, he decided to head to deck 10 instead.

Working with Barclay made Geordi uncomfortable.

It wasn't that he had harboured any ill-will toward the man, he just felt awkward around him. It was difficult to try and sustain a conversation and Geordi hated just working in silence.

Geordi realised there was probably only one person on the ship less inclined to predetermined opinions than Data. And right now, Geordi needed some advice.

The doors to Ten Forward slid open and Geordi made a beeline for the bar.

Guinan was mixing a drink. She poured in two shakes of uttaberry syrup and blended it carefully with the frozen pineapple slush before adding a dash of Bolian spiced rum.

"What can I get you, La Forge?" Guinan inquired.

Geordi slid onto one of the stools and folded his hands on top of the counter.

Truth be told, he wasn't really sure where to start.

"I need some advice," Geordi confessed.

Guinan paused and nodded.

"About what?" Guinan asked.

"Lieutenant Barclay," Geordi said simply.

Guinan nodded slowly.

"What kind of advice?" Guinan asked slowly.

Geordi shrugged.

"Anything," he pleaded. "I'm desperate for answers here. I don't understand him."

Guinan set down her stirring spoon and stepped over to Geordi.

"Alright," she said. "Are you asking as his boss? Because you want to be his friend? Because you're trying to pursue him?"

"He's a brilliant engineer," Geordi sighed before adding. "When he shows up."

Guinan understood his request.

She knew that things had been a struggle for Barclay ever since coming aboard. She'd seen him sit alone at Ten Forward. She had overheard the gossip from the other Engineering crew.

"Do you know him?" Geordi asked.

"Yes, I know him. He comes in, stands at the bar, doesn't say much," Guinan shared. "Orders a warm milk."

"Figures," Geordi scoffed.

Barclay was just the type. Even his taste in beverages was a dull as he was.

"Warm milk helps you sleep, La Forge," Guinan countered. "You should try it."

She had shared that information because she wanted Geordi to understand that Barclay was struggling to adjust.

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to figure the man out," Geordi said. "He keeps disappearing from his shifts and I want to understand why. Does he ever say anything about it? About his work?"

"He doesn't talk much," Guinan answered honestly.

She had observed that Barclay struggled to socialise. But she didn't want to pressure him. She was happy to provide a safe space for him to relax. Guinan was ready to be ear if and when he was ready to open up.

"Does he have any friends that you've seen him with? Maybe someone I could ask?" Geordi suggested.

Guinan shook her head.

"Not that I've seen," Guinan answered. "He comes in alone. He sits alone. And he leaves alone."

Geordi had been afraid of that.

"Do you know what that does to a person, La Forge?" Guinan inquired.

The Enterprise was a big ship.

That size meant that she could be isolating.

"What do you do with a guy like that?" Geordi lamented.

"Well, I serve him warm milk and try to be a friendly face," Guinan explained. "And I stay close so that when he's ready to talk, I'm available."

Geordi sat back and crossed his arms.

He couldn't wait around for Barclay to be ready to work. He needed a diagnostic engineer and he needed Barclay's help.

"Maybe he's in the wrong line of work," Geordi pondered.

"Well, he's imaginative," Guinan offered.

"The holodeck," Geordi said. "He's always on the holodeck."

"I know that despite the stereotypes, you engineering folks do appreciate imagination," Guinan commented.

Geordi nodded in agreement. Creativity and flexibility were critical skills for engineers.

"It's not that," Geordi clarified. "He just doesn't fit in here."

"Terkim," Guinan said as she rested her hands on the edge of the counter.

Geordi looked at her for elaboration.

"Reminds me of Terkim. My uncle. Sort of the family misfit. Everybody told me to stay away from him. Said he was a bad influence," Guinan recalled.

Her family was large. With their extended lifespans, El-Aurians typically had dozens of children. Guinan's mother had been one of eighteen.

And all seventeen of Terkim's siblings had warned the young Guinan off from establishing a relationship with him.

But Guinan had fond memories of her favourite misfit uncle.

"He was the only member of the family with a sense of humour. Except no one ever stayed around him long enough to realise it by me," Guinan went on. "My mother tells me I remind her of him. And I probably do. The idea of fitting in just repulses me."

She shuddered for added effect, earning a grin from Geordi.

"Why doesn't that surprise me," Geordi remarked fondly. "Are you still in contact with him?"

There was very little that anyone knew about Guinan's past – only that her people had been displaced and were now spread out across the galaxy, a fraction remaining of the once-great El-Aurian nation.

"No," Guinan said strangely. "Terkim did something that most of my people were afraid to do. Most El-Aurians view fighting as a folly of youth, something that age and wisdom make irrelevant."

Geordi felt a chill creep up his spine.

"But I think there are times it's important to resist. Terkim did too and he paid for that with his life," Guinan shared.

"I'm sorry, Guinan," Geordi said sincerely. "I didn't mean to bring up a bad memory."

Guinan smiled.

"Not bad at all. I loved my uncle Terkim very much and I'm proud of the decision he made. Let's just say it made me who I am," Guinan explained. "And while they may not have recognised it at the time, Terkim's death saved a lot of my family."

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened?" Geordi inquired.

"There are some things, La Forge, some threats that are out there that you don't want to know about," Guinan replied. "And you're better off not knowing they exist. Humans have a way of poking their noses into situations where it's sometimes better to fly under the radar."

She paused, hesitant to say more.

"But your situation with Mr Barclay doesn't sound like something you can let hang out there," Guinan said.

"He's frequently late. Nervous. Has difficulties communicating with the rest of the team," Geordi said. "Nobody wants to be around him."

"If I felt nobody wanted to be around me, I'd probably be late and nervous too," Guinan retorted.

"That's not the point," Geordi insisted.

"Are you sure?" Guinan asked with a knowing look.

Over in sickbay, Beverly had just completed fitting Tasha's arm with a regenerative sleeve.

"You're lucky this wasn't more serious," Beverly commented as she secured the device in place.

Data was standing just behind Beverly.

He felt horrible that he had been the cause of her injuries.

"I'm fine," Tasha insisted, looking over Beverly's shoulder. "But I'm worried about you."

"I can easily reconfigure the silica-based portions of my construction with a synthetic polymer replacement," Data informed her. "However, I do believe this may explain the unpleasant intrusive thoughts that interacted with my dream programme."

"Oh?" Tasha responded.

If only it were that easy for humans to turn off nightmares! She thought.

She wasn't bitter. In fact, she thought it was brilliant that Data could easily switch off his nightmares with a mere parts change. He didn't deserve such dark thoughts.

"I'll be back in thirty minutes to check the progress on your leg," Beverly advised.

Tasha was sitting under a bone knitter as it worked to repair her shattered femur.

Beverly stepped away, leaving them alone.

"Your injuries were not minor," Data observed as he approached her.

Tasha bit her lip and broke eye contact, averting her gaze to the floor.

Once Geordi had rerouted Data's system, he'd left them alone. Data had carried her out of the ladder shaft and through the Jefferies tube.

Tasha had vehemently insisted that he see to himself first before they went to sickbay. Despite his reluctance, Data had eventually agreed to acquiesce to her wish.

"Why?" Data asked, leaving the complexity of the question unsaid.

Tasha looked up at him sheepishly.

"Because people are cruel, Data," Tasha answered. "Even when they don't mean to be. Even if they think they're being friendly or funny."

Data cocked his head to the side, perplexed.

While the loss of control of his waste biofluid had been embarrassing, it was certainly a far lesser concern than the injuries sustained during the fall.

Data informed Tasha that he failed to see how or why humans would even care about such a thing when there was an injured crew member.

A pained look crossed her face.

"Because you don't see people like that. You aren't malicious," Tasha explained. "But humans, well, we have a tendency to laugh at the misfortune of others. It leads to nicknames and reputations."

"Why would anyone find pleasure in the pain or shame of another?" Data pondered aloud.

Tasha shrugged.

"Because people can be vicious," she answered simply.

Both of them fell silent as Data considered her answer.

There were aspects of the human experience that Data found disagreeable, and it drew into question whether there were advantages to not being human.

"I didn't want you to have to go through that," Tasha admitted as she took hold of his hand.

"I am often the subject of gossip and mockery because I am android," Data replied, unphased.

"I know," she nodded. "But not like this. It's different, Data. And believe me, you don't want to go through that. You don't deserve to be treated that way."

Tasha could imagine how Data's android nature would make it worse. They both had heard plenty of cruel jokes, microaggressions, and offhand comments made about him.

"Your heightened concern for this matter indicates a personal experience," Data said.

Tasha glanced around Sickbay to ensure they were out of earshot of any of the medical staff.

"Do you know why my nickname at the Academy was 'Free Sweep'?" Tasha asked.

"Because you are an avid Parrises Squares enthusiast?" Data hypothesised, referencing her skill in the position.

Tasha shook her head.

"Because I made a stupid choice to date a rotten bigot," Tasha confessed. "He used to do horrible things to embarrass me in front of his friends and never seemed to understand how it made me feel."

She visibly shuddered as she thought back to those memories.

"And then when we broke up, he did everything in his power to intimidate me," Tasha went on. "Told his friends that I was slut, shared private information and personal logs that I didn't even know he'd made - let alone kept."

Tasha closed her eyes and sighed in frustration.

"One poor choice can follow you for years, Data. Even when I was assigned to the Crazy Horse, I would run into people once and while that had heard that about me. It's part of my reputation as an officer," Tasha explained. "It's humiliating, Data. And I don't ever want you to have to experience that level of mockery."

"You are referring to that Lieutenant Commander. Christopher Hobson," Data surmised.

Tasha didn't answer verbally. Rather, she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"You deserve so much more than the worst parts of humanity," Tasha asserted. "And I'm sorry that you've already had to endure much of it. I just don't want you to have to experience any more of it, not if we can avoid it."

Data brushed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Look, I'm probably going to be here for a while yet. You don't have to hang around," Tasha said.

"I will stay," Data announced as he sat down on the cot across from her.

Geordi stepped through the arch and stopped dead in his tracks. He was completely blown away by the scene before him – the soft, green landscape, the sound of a nearby stream, songbirds fluttering around and whistling to one another.

It was like stepping into a serene painting.

Geordi followed the clearing and stumbled upon a shocking sight.

"Beverly?" Geordi asked, spying the Doctor.

She was wearing an enormous historic gown and swinging from a floral rope swing on a large tree.

"Good morning, milord," Beverly responded brightly.

Leaning against the tree was none other than Wesley Crusher dressed as Gainsborough's Blue Boy – his fingers and face coated with a sticky fruit pie.

"Manners, my son. Manners," Beverly chided him. "You embarrass me before our guest. Master Barclay will have a stern word with you should you misbehave."

"Wes?" Geordi asked, astonished. "Aren't you supposed to be down in Engineering?"

Wes grumbled before returning to his pie.

"Doctor, I didn't know you and Lieutenant Barclay were friends," Geordi confessed.

He was confused. While the Doctor was certainly friendly, it was odd to find her hanging around the holodeck with Barclay.

"Master Barclay?" Beverly said, perking up. "I most fortunate to count him among my friends. After all, he is the benefactor of our estate and has kindly provided for my son and I."

Geordi scratched the back of his neck as an unsettling thought crept into his mind.

"Doctor, does the Captain know about this?" Geordi asked.

"I don't know any ship captains," she responded. "But Master Barclay has travelled the world. He may know one."

Her answer confirmed his suspicion.

Holograms.

The real Doctor Crusher wouldn't have danced around his question like that. Beverly understood when to draw the line with recreational pursuits and their responsibilities.

"What do you want?" the holographic Wesley asked.

"Well, I guess I want Master Barclay," Geordi replied, hopeful that playing along would lead to the whereabouts of his missing engineer.

"The boy's gotten into another wee scrap, I'm afraid. But boys will be boys," Beverly smiled.

Geordi's eyebrows shot up.

The real Beverly Crusher would never have said that.

In the distance, Geordi could make out the sound of clashing swords – and they were drawing closer.

He rushed toward the noise and blanched as he heard a familiar voice.

"You cannot withstand our assault forever, Barclay!"

It was his own voice.

Near a Georgian folly intended to portray Roman ruins, Geordi found holographic versions of himself, Data, and Captain Picard facing off against Lieutenant Barclay.

"You are outnumbered, Master Barclay," Data said. "Say you will yield and end this here!"

The three musketeers approached Barclay, but he managed to fend them off. With a thrust of his sword, he sent the three of them tumbling backward into the grass.

"I will speak with my sword!" Barclay cried.

The holographic Picard was the first back on his feet.

Their swords met as the two began to dance across the grass toward the steps of the folly.

"In God's name, where did you learn to fight like this, man?" Picard demanded.

Barclay was dual-wielding two long swords, locked with Picard and inches from his face.

"Self-taught, mon capitaine!" Barclay snarled. "Shall I give you a few lessons?"

He thrust his swords forward, sending Picard toppling down the stairs and onto the ground.

Picard was back up in a second with his two other musketeers behind him.

Geordi was momentarily dazed as he watched the unreal scene play out before him.

Barclay was everywhere – dodging attacks, repelling their advance.

He was confident.

Barclay had managed to turn the tables and the three musketeers found themselves trapped between the stone wall behind them and the wrong end of Barclay's swords.

"Who is that? One of your allies?" Picard asked, spotting Geordi behind them.

Barclay pursed his lips and clucked disapprovingly.

"Why Jean-Luc," he disparaged. "Not that old trick. I'm very disappointed in you."

Geordi figured it was as good a time as any and cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Reg stopped and turned.

His face fell and he dropped his sword. It hit the stairs with a loud clang.

The musketeers used his distraction to their advantage. The holographic Picard gave Barclay a shove. He stumbled backward and landed on his bum in the grass.

He turned over and looked up at Geordi, stammering and unable to find the words to explain.

Geordi reached down and offered him his arm.

A part of him wanted to pop off. It was absolutely inappropriate to use the images of real people in a holodeck programme outside of authorised training programmes.

It gave Geordi a big, icky feeling inside to know that Reg had been disappearing from his work to slip into such fictional worlds.

But Geordi could see the humiliation in Reg's face at having been caught red-handed.

As he reflected on Guinan's words, he decided it would be best to proceed with compassion.

"I need your help," Geordi said. "Would you like to get a drink with me and talk it over at Ten Forward?"

"I'll make it easy for you, Lieutenant," Reg said glumly. "I'll request reassignment."

He could see no alternative.

Half the ship probably knew by now.

Reg had a hard enough time facing them on an ordinary day. He didn't think he could stomach going back now that word of his holodeck pursuits was sure to leak out.

"Now wait a minute," Geordi said as he slid Reg a pint of synthale.

"Look, we both know, the whole ship knows," Reg said with great difficulty.

He was staring down at the table, trying to work up the nerve to look at Geordi.

"I just can't cut it here," Reg concluded. "And when everyone finds out…well, I don't blame you. Or them. I know I'm weird."

"Hey, Reg. I've spent a few hours on the holodeck too, you know," Geordi said, hoping to ease his fears. "Now, as far as I'm concerned what you do on the holodeck is your own business so long as it doesn't interfere with your work."

Reg paused, glancing up for the first time in the conversation.

"Y-y-you're not going to tell anyone about this?" Reg asked in disbelief.

"Of course not," Geordi promised. "But I don't think everybody would appreciate your imagination like I do. And the use of real images on the holodeck is explicitly forbidden without consent."

Geordi took a sip of his pint and then set the glass back onto the table.

Reg said nothing.

He had known it wasn't allowed.

But he was so desperate for better programmes. And most of the holographic characters created by the holodeck lacked something.

It made his programmes seem more real, more immersive when he used existing people. And there was something about interacting with them that helped Barclay to overcome his own anxiety in the real world.

"Well, it was just that I needed to blow off some steam because sometimes," Barclay paused. "Sometimes I feel like some of the officers are on my back and I c-c-can't tell them how I f-feel."

Geordi gave him the space to share without judgment.

"I couldn't tell you. I can't talk to Commander Riker," Barclay confessed. "My whole brain freezes whenever I have to report to the Bridge."

"There's a part of this that's kind of therapeutic," Geordi acknowledged. "But I'm worried you're dealing with holodiction, Reg."

Geordi explained that he wanted Reg to see Counsellor Troi to talk through some of his anxiety. Geordi even offered to have her mediate between them so they could figure out a way to communicate better during Reg's shifts.

"Reg, I watched you back there. You were brilliant! And so confident!" Geordi encouraged. "I know you're a helluva engineer. I want to see that same Reg Barclay when he's on duty."

"It's just that on the holodeck, when I'm there, I'm just more comfortable," Reg admitted. "You don't know what a struggle it is for me, Lieutenant."

At last, Reg was starting to open up to Geordi.

"I'd like to help," Geordi said.

"You don't understand. Being afraid all the time. Forgetting names. Not knowing what to do with your hands. The sheer anxiety of where to stand during a meeting," Reg continued. "I mean, I'm the guy who writes down things to remember to say when there's a party. And then when I get there, I only feel safe alone in the corner trying to look comfortable examining a potted plant."

The one advantage of being on such a large ship meant that it was easier for Barclay to skip out of social functions. There wasn't as much pressure. With so many people, his absence was easy to overlook.

"So you're shy," Geordi said.

Barclay laughed bitterly.

"Just shy. Sounds like nothing serious, doesn't it," Barclay remarked. "You can't know. No one knows."

Geordi's combadge pinged, alerting him to an incoming message from Engineering.

"We're ready with the preliminary scan report," Sonya notified him.

"On my way," Geordi acknowledged.

He turned back to Reg.

"Reg, I really want you to talk to Counsellor Troi," Geordi instructed.

Reg paled.

"Troi? No, no, no, no, no, no," he said quickly. "I couldn't."

"I mean it," Geordi clarified. "As your friend and as your commanding officer."

To Reg's horror, Deanna Troi had an opening that same afternoon.

Two hours after his humiliation on the holodeck, Reg found himself sitting on Deanna's couch. It was not unlike one of his own programmes.

Only in this room, in this setting he did not feel at ease.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?" Deanna asked.

Reg understood that it would be inappropriate to ask for a back rub.

No, that was all fantasy.

And having to sit a metre away from the real Deanna Troi left him with a heavy heart, weighed by the guilt of having created a hologram without her permission.

"Mr Barclay?" Deanna pressed.

"N-no," Reg responded.

Deanna assured him that should he need anything during the session to simply ask. She'd be happy to provide a beverage, a change in temperature, or even a different setting if it helped.

"Have you ever been with a counsellor before?" she inquired, running through her standard checklist of questions for a new client.

"Yes," Barclay answered automatically before realising his error and changing his answer to 'no.'

Deanna was unphased.

"Which one?" Deanna asked.

Barclay fidgeted in his seat. His palms were beginning to grow sweaty.

"Yes, but she uh, she wasn't. Well it wasn't really a counsellor," Reg squeaked out.

Deanna wasn't concerned with his answer. It was perfectly normal for clients to be nervous during their first session.

"Most people find a counsellor intimidating at first. And it's okay if you feel that way toward me," Deanna said in a steady voice.

It was an attempt to alleviate some of his fears.

"Not at all," Reg lied in a panicked voice.

Despite his insistence that he was alright, Deanna could see the nonverbal cues that he was distressed.

"You know I won't be offended if you would rather speak to someone else," she explained. "We have a number of other qualified individuals with training that would be happy to speak with you. Doctor Crusher, Lieutenant Yar-"

"No!" Reg practically shouted, jumping off his seat.

It was bad enough whenever he had to go to Sickbay for medical treatment.

There was no way he could turn to Beverly Crusher for this too.

And Lieutenant Yar?

Data's partner?

Not a chance! Reg thought.

Ever since transferring aboard the Enterprise, he had idolised all three women. They played a prominent role in many of his holodeck adventures.

Deanna was always there to guide him. She was a shoulder to cry on, someone he could bare his soul to.

Beverly was his healer – ready with soft words of poetry or sage advice. She was where he turned when he sought wisdom.

Tasha was his protector. She reminded him to be strong, to stand up for himself, and to hold fast.

To Barclay, they were the three women that made him feel safe.

He surmised that on a subconscious level, he had been drawn to them given his own relationship with his mother. He saw a little bit of her in each of them, though in different ways.

They were like ancient Hellenic goddesses.

And in placing them on such a pedestal, Barclay had only further isolated himself. It made it impossible to carry on a normal conversation with them in the real world – not when he was terrified they would find out about his secret holodeck world.

"Mister Barclay?" Deanna prompted, pulling him from his thoughts.

"I'm here. I'm definitely here," Reg replied.

"Alright, why don't you lean back and close your eyes," Deanna instructed.

She was going to walk him through a series of exercises designed to help him relax.

Deanna dimmed the lights and Reg laid down on the sofa.

He was technically following instructions, but still stiff as a board.

"Listen to the sound of my voice. Take a slow, deep breath in through your nose and let it out through your mouth just as slowly," Deanna said.

They repeated this several times, but Deanna observed that his posture had not changed.

All of a sudden, Reg sat bolt upright.

"Much better," he said rapidly. "Oh yes. Oh yes, that's, that's uh, that's much better."

He stood up.

"Extremely helpful. Thank you for curing me," Reg said as he started toward the door.

"Mr Barclay," Deanna protested.

"In through the nose, out through the mouth. I-I'm going to practise that. Thank you again," Reg said before making a hasty retreat down the corridor.

Deanna stood in the door frame in shock.

Down in Transporter Room Three, Miles had paged Commander Riker, Geordi, Data, and Worf to take a look at a newly discovered problem.

"How's T?" Geordi asked as met Data in the corridor.

"Doctor Crusher believes her leg will be, as she described, 'tender' for a while. Doctor Crusher estimates Tasha will have another hour to go in Sickbay under the knitter," Data replied. "She is not particularly pleased at the prospect of no sparring training for the next three weeks."

They were still a month out from the ship-wide annual Sparring Tournament, but Tasha knew three weeks without training was going to have an impact on her chances.

"Ouch," Geordi agreed.

"I share her concern," Worf grumbled as he joined them. "Because she is my friend, not because I have thirty strips of latinum riding on the outcome."

"I think we're all going to be in dire straits if she doesn't sweep that tournament," Riker chimed in.

"I thought you always bet on the underdog?" Geordi quipped.

Riker flashed them a grin.

"Well, as soon as I heard about her little tumble down the ladder shaft I changed my bet from Lieutenant Farley to Tasha," Riker clarified. "I think a broken femur qualifies one for underdog status. Even if she is the reigning champion."

The four of them stepped into the Transporter Room and found Miles stressing over a test cylinder on the pad.

To everyone's surprise, it was partially melted. The material was completely warped.

"I was synchronising the phase transition coils. When I finished, I conducted a standard test with this pure duranium test cylinder," Miles explained.

The test object was split into two pieces and steaming from where it had undergone some kind of molecular change during the transporter test.

"I'm glad I don't have anywhere to go," Geordi commented.

"I've checked and double-checked the relays, the coils, the power inverter," Miles explained. "I can't find what's wrong with it."

Whatever was causing these problems across the ship was now also impacting the transporter.

"For the time being, let's hold off on any transporter use," Riker ordered.

Geordi paged Engineering to send up a team to assist Miles. They would need to take apart the system and conduct a level one diagnostic.

And Geordi had just the man for the job.

"Is this part of the same pattern?" Picard inquired.

"We don't know, sir. And we don't know why the transporter is now affected," Geordi explained.

"Yet," Riker added.

He was confident that they would be able to figure it out.

Commander Riker, Geordi, and Data were in the Captain's Ready Room as they filled him in on the latest development.

"We reach Nahmi Four in twenty-two hours, and we will need the transporter system to be operational by then," Picard said.

It was theoretically possible to deliver the tissue samples with a number of shuttle runs. But the atmosphere on Nahmi Four made navigation difficult.

"I've got Lieutenant Barclay working on a level one diagnostic as we speak," Geordi explained.

"How long?" Picard asked.

"He should have preliminary findings by 17:00 hours," Geordi assured them.

The senior officers had agreed to meet at 17:00 hours for a briefing based on the results of Reg's investigation. Barclay had assured Geordi he would have a preliminary report completed by then and Geordi had guaranteed Commander Riker of a timeline based on that promise.

Tasha was still in Sickbay under Beverly's care. Worf had readily stepped up to take over her duties for the afternoon.

"I had a very strange visit from one of your officers today," Deanna said as she slipped into a seat across from Geordi in the Observation Lounge.

"Let me guess, Barclay?" Geordi said. "I can imagine. Were you able to do anything for him?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure," Deanna confessed.

Commander Riker checked the time, irritated with each passing minute.

"Where is Mr Barclay? It's past 17:00 hours," Riker demanded.

"Lieutenant Barclay, please report to the Observation Lounge," Data ordered, tapping his combadge.

There was no response.

"Lieutenant Barclay, please report," Data said.

Deanna could sense that Geordi was concerned.

"Why don't I go find Barclay and we can resume in a bit?" Geordi suggested.

He could see how agitated Commander Riker was and was concerned that the last thing Barclay needed was to be on the receiving end of Riker's ire.

"Computer, locate Lieutenant Barclay," Riker barked.

"Lieutenant Barclay is on holodeck two," the computer reported.

"I'll go," Geordi offered.

He figured that was the safest option.

"No, I'll handle this. I've had it with him," Riker said tersely as he got up from the table.

"Counsellor, Data, you two had better come along," Geordi warned.

Everyone was silent on the lift ride down to the holodeck. Deanna could feel the thick tension – it was evident Geordi was concerned about Commander Riker's reaction.

However, Deanna knew that Will held no personal grudge against Barclay.

But she was ready to step in if necessary.

"I think you should know that Barclay's been running some unique programmes," Geordi said, unsure of exactly how to warn them.

In truth, Geordi didn't think there was anything he could say to prepare them for what awaited him.

"I don't care what he's been running. I just ran out of patience," Riker grumbled.

The four them stepped through the arch and found themselves back in the greenwood.

"Why don't you guys stay here, and I'll go look for Barclay?" Geordi suggested.

Commander Riker frowned.

"It would save time if we all searched," Riker reminded him.

He didn't much like that Geordi seemed to be covering for Reg.

Geordi visibly cringed as he heard the sound of sword play.

Riker marched off in that direction with the rest of the team following behind.

"Like I said, Commander. Barclay has been running some unusual programmes," Geordi called out.

As they rounded the corner into a clearing near the folly, they found the three musketeers casually sparring against one another.

They stopped as they spied the intruders.

"Most interesting," Data thought aloud as he studied the holographic representations of himself, Geordi, and the Captain. "I am uncertain if I should be offended or flattered."

"This is a violation of protocol!" Riker snapped. "Crewmember images are not to be simulated on the holodeck for personal programmes."

He was mortified.

"Computer, discontinue programme and erase," Riker ordered.

"Computer, belay that order," Deanna said quickly, countering his command.

Will turned and shot Deanna a glare.

"Care to explain, Counsellor?" Riker asked.

He trusted Deanna, but he couldn't fathom why she would permit this to continue.

"If Mr Barclay is having a difficult time facing reality then we may be dealing with holodiction. To suddenly destroy his only means of escape would be brutal and could do considerable damage to his psyche," Deanna cautioned.

"I'm putting him on report," Riker declared.

"If Lieutenant Barclay is suffering from addiction to the holodeck, then he needs treatment – not punishment," Deanna went on.

Riker put his hands on his hips and sighed.

The three holograms approached them.

"He is quite disagreeable, isn't he?" Picard said as he studied Riker. "Shall we have at them?"

He turned back toward his other two musketeers for their input.

"I would be delighted," the Data musketeer grinned as he stepped forward and looked the real Data up and down.

"We shall thrash them!" holographic Geordi threatened with flair.

"En garde," Picard cried.

The three musketeers took up an offensive posture and prepared to strike.

"Put that down," Riker insisted, unimpressed.

The three faltered, surprised by his reaction.

"Your sword, sir," the holographic Data encouraged.

Riker rolled his eyes.

"I don't have a sword," Riker hissed. "This is a waste of time."

"How do you expect to fight without your sword, sir?" the holographic Geordi demanded.

"I don't expect to fight," Riker said hotly. "Where is Barclay?"

The three musketeers turned to one another and chuckled.

"Ha! Do I detect a streak of yellow along the good fellow's back? Perhaps we can supply a more appropriate adversary for him," Picard teased. "Oh Number One?"

Picard shouted into the greenwood to bring out their fourth companion.

"Here I come!" a holographic Riker shouted as he rushed out from the treeline.

Everyone bit back a grin as they saw a short, squat Will Riker race out with his sword drawn. He was small – even shorter than Geordi.

"Am I late?" he asked eagerly. "Did I miss the fight? En garde!"

He was comical, a farce compared to the other musketeers. If their flamboyant seventeenth-century attire, feathered hats, and long, curled wigs weren't ridiculous enough, the holographic

"Where is Barclay," Riker asked slowly.

"Ah! A personal grudge. I warn you, it would be wise for you to put your affairs in final order before you meet him in combat. You challenge the greatest sword-" holographic Riker advised.

"In all the holodeck," the real Riker cut him off.

Deanna giggled.

"You think this is funny?" Riker snapped.

He was outraged at the use of their personal images without consent.

Had Barclay really been coming down to thrash an unintimidating Riker for months? He thought to himself.

It was an unsettling notion.

"You are very tall. Your size can be threatening to some people," Deanna reminded Will.

"Computer, discontinue image of Riker," Riker commanded.

He didn't care what Deanna had said, it was too uncomfortable to see a holographic version of himself.

After his own experience with Minuet, Riker didn't think it was fair for Barclay to programme some comic relief version of himself into whatever fantasy world he'd created.

And he wasn't about to sit back and watch that version of himself suffer for Barclay's amusement.

The holographic Number One faded and disappeared.

"Sir! You have no sense of fair play," the holographic Picard protested.

"Please tell us where to find Mr Barclay?" Geordi asked.

The three musketeers sneered and turned away. They crossed their arms and refused to help.

"What would you suggest we do, Counsellor?" Data inquired.

He reminded them that, theoretically, this holodeck programme could be huge.

"You really want us to search through all of this to find him?" Riker asked in disbelief.

"It could provide us with valuable information about what's troubling him. You know, there's nothing wrong with a healthy fantasy life as long as you don't let it take over," Deanna said. "We may find important insights into Mr Barclay's psyche."

Deanna headed for a nearby path through the trees and motioned for the rest of them to follow.

Riker threw his hands up in exasperation.

"You call this healthy?" he asked in frustration as he gestured to the holographic musketeers behind them.

"You are taking this so seriously, it's not without its element of humour," Deanna said as she turned back to him.

She grinned.

"It's clear that Lieutenant Barclay has an appreciation for classic literature. There's something romantic about it," Deanna said. "You, of all people, should appreciate that."

"I am the Goddess of Empathy and Love," a voice said from behind.

Deanna froze.

Riker's face soured. Geordi bit back a smirk. Data cocked his head to the side in surprise.

Deanna took a breath to steady herself before turning to face a disturbing sight.

She found herself face-to-face with a holographic version of herself, dressed as some kind of Hellenic goddess complete with a flowing burgundy tunic and gold braids woven in her hair.

"Cast off your inhibitions and embrace, love, truth, and joy," the Goddess of Empathy said in a dreamy voice.

"Oh. My. God," Geordi commented.

"Some likeness," Riker said smartly, recognising that Deanna was now also feeling strange about being replicated on the holodeck.

"Discard your facades and reveal your true being to me," the holographic Deanna said, encouraging them to open up to her.

"I don't sound anything like that," Deanna insisted as he crossed her arms.

"Perhaps Mr Barclay felt that your skills as a counsellor transferred over to some kind of holographic goddess that could offer him empathy and compassion?" Data suggested.

"Computer, discontinue goddess of-" Deanna began to say.

"Belay that order," Riker commanded.

Deanna's face fell as she glared at Will.

"We wanted more insight into what's been troubling the poor man, remember?" Riker reminded her with a wicked grin. "Quite a healthy fantasy life, wouldn't you say?"

"This is not amusing," Deanna argued.

"But if he's been talking to this holographic counsellor, she might know something," Riker countered.

Deanna loathed that he had a point.

"What is your purpose here?" Deanna asked.

"I am the Goddess of Empathy and Love," she replied, simply.

She could see that they did not follow.

"Come," she said, beckoning them to walk with her.

She led them down a path and into a beautiful garden. She snapped her fingers.

"Whoa!" Geordi called out as a large tiger emerged from the foliage.

"Do not be afraid," the holographic Deanna told them as she scratched her pet's ears.

As they walked along, the Goddess of Empathy informed them more about where they were.

"I am the Goddess of Empathy, one of the three deities that watches over Master Barclay," she explained. "I, along with my sisters, guide and protect him."

"There's more of you?" Geordi asked, horrified.

It seemed Barclay's holodeck escapes ran far deeper than any of them had expected.

At the centre of the garden was a large white fountain. Cherubs with tiny harps, lutes, and horns were carved out of marble and surrounded the fountain.

The Goddess of Empathy sat down at the edge. Her pet tiger flopped down on the ground next to her.

"Yes. My sisters and I are tasked with Master Barclay's care," she said.

"What does that care involve?" Deanna inquired.

It was a question she didn't want to ask, but knew she had to in order to understand.

"I counsel Master Barclay on matters of love. I listen to his concerns and encourage the empathetic and compassionate side of his personality," she shared. "I help him to explore these qualities in himself."

Deanna released a breath she didn't realise she had been holding.

She nodded slowly, feeling slightly relieved with that answer.

"Do you know where Master Barclay is?" Data questioned.

The Goddess of Empathy shook her head.

"He has not come to seek my counsel today. It is possible that he with one of my sisters," she advised as she pointed to a path that led out of the garden and into the greenwood.

"Thanks," Riker said as he shuffled them along.

As they trekked through the forest, they all marvelled at Barclay's talent.

"As weird as this is, I can't deny this programme took a lot of skill to build," Geordi commented.

"Indeed. The attention to detail would have required considerable effort," Data agreed.

"What's that?" Deanna asked, pointing ahead of them.

They had reached a clearing where a large, stone tower stood in the middle of the grass.

"I think that's our next stop," Riker said.

They headed for the arch at the base of the tower.

Stepping inside, they found the tower was full of books. Every available inch of the walls was lined with shelves filled with old, worn books.

There was a fireplace in the corner where someone was cooking in a stone cauldron. The aroma of the dish filled the air with the inviting scent of herbs and spices.

In contrast to the romantic setting of the garden, this place seemed almost home-like and inviting.

There was a spiral staircase that led upstairs.

"Come on," Riker said as he started up the stairs.

He wasn't far up when a large lion with a great mane leapt down from above and tackled him to the floor.

"Down, Leo," the voice of Beverly Crusher said.

Geordi and Data exchanged a surprised glance as a holographic Beverly Crusher motioned for them to join her in the upper level of the tower.

Geordi shrugged and followed her up the stairs.

Data offered Commander Riker his hand to help him up off the floor.

Riker brushed the dirt of his uniform and glared at the lion.

The lion snarled and then walked past him with an air of authority, signalling his disapproval at their presence.

The upper level of the tower was open to the sky. There was a great, ancient telescope and maps of the constellations scattered across the room.

"Where is Master Barclay?" Geordi asked.

"He has not been this way today," the holographic Beverly answered.

She stepped over to her telescope and began to make adjustments to the angle of the device, turning a large metallic crank on the side.

"And who are you?" Data inquired.

While her flowing blue tunic draped across her and crown of golden leaves indicated a Greco-Roman connection, he surmised that like the holographic Deanna, she was not necessarily based on an actual mythological figure but rather something of Barclay's own imagination.

"I am the Goddess of Reason and Wisdom," she replied in a tone that indicated she expected them to know this. "Are you friend or foe?"

"Friends," Riker said quickly, spying the lion in the corner watching their every move.

He certainly didn't want to give it any reason to pounce again.

"We have come seeking Master Barclay's help," Data said, attempting to play into the fantasy.

Despite the obvious ethical issues surrounding the unauthorised use of their images, Data still found this programme to be a fascinating insight into the human imagination.

"We require his assistance," Deanna chimed in, catching on to Data's plan.

"He is a very busy man," the Goddess of Reason and Wisdom said.

"It's urgent that we find him," Geordi added.

"He will return for further study of the cosmos when the sun has set," Beverly explained. "But at the moment, he is likely with one of my sisters."

Riker grumbled something under his breath. They had already spent nearly an hour chasing down Barclay through this programme.

They didn't have time to waste – not when they were due to deliver the samples to Nahmi IV.

"We have already spoken with the Goddess of Empathy, where can you locate your other sister?" Data asked.

Beverly looked back from her telescope and shook her head with a sly grin.

"You do not find her," Beverly said. "She will find you, if she chooses to."

"We don't have time for games," Riker said.

From a metre away, the lion snarled.

"Relax, Leo," Beverly warned the lion.

"She lives in the greenwood and appears when needed as the protectress of all living things," Beverly said.

She strolled over to her pet lion and scratched behind his ears.

"She will find you," Beverly repeated.

As soon as they left the tower, Riker tapped his combadge and attempted to hail Lieutenant Barclay again.

There was no answer.

"Why don't we split up and continue looking for him?" Deanna suggested.

"We're running out of time, Deanna," Riker responded in irritation.

Geordi scanned the landscape, looking for any kind of heat signature that would indicate Barclay's presence.

"Hey, this way," Geordi said as he pulled them toward the woods beyond the tower.

The forest was much thicker than it had been on the other side of the garden. This was an ancient forest, complete with oversized trees and massive roots just waiting to trip up unsuspecting travellers.

In the distance, Geordi had spotted a thermal signature and there was a good chance it was Barclay.

As the team made its way through the challenging terrain, Data could hear there was rushing water in the distance.

It sounded like a waterfall of sorts.

"Up ahead," Geordi said, pointing to a pond with a cool waterfall above.

"This would explain why he has not responded to our hails," Data commented as he picked up Barclay's combadge from a rock.

All of a sudden, an arrow whooshed past Data's head. It went straight into his hand, impaling his bioplast and lodging itself into the bark of a tree.

Data turned, following the trajectory of the arrow to find a holographic representation of Tasha standing atop a boulder.

Geordi smirked as he saw Data was at a loss for words.

She projected an image of strength, the sun reflecting off the bronze shield affixed to her back. She had a quiver and carried a bow and a large spear.

Unlike the flowy, florally adorned tunics worn by the Goddesses of Empathy and Wisdom, this deity sported a shortened tunic to allow for a greater range of motion.

A low, rumbling growl broke through the silence of the forest as a massive, black jaguar appeared at her side.

"Where's Barclay?" Riker questioned.

She lowered her bow and returned it to its sling.

Using her spear for leverage, she leapt down from the boulder and landed deftly in the middle of the group.

With one swipe of her spear, she had tripped Riker and Deanna, knocking them to the ground.

Geordi wasn't fast enough to avoid being pounced on by the jaguar, who had pinned him under its impressive weight. It did not bite him but simply taunted him with his menacing yellow eyes.

She lunged at Data, stopping the tip of her spear just inches from his throat.

"Why have you come here?" she demanded.

"We have come seeking Master Barclay," Data answered.

Riker rolled over and made to get up but felt something pressed against the back of his head.

"Do not move," a holographic Worf instructed him.

"We need Master Barclay's help," Data tried again.

"Master Barclay is under my protection," the holographic Tasha insisted. "And as long as he is the greenwood, he shall remain safe from the likes of you."

"Please, we are his friends," Deanna said, attempting to win their favour.

"We shall see," Tasha said.

"Who are you?" Data asked.

She lowered her spear and stepped back.

"I am the Goddess of the Hunt and the Protectress of all living creatures," she answered. "And this is my loyal companion, Worf, a warrior sworn to protect the greenwood."

Worf grunted in response.

Data reached up and pulled the arrow from his hand.

The holographic Tasha watched in awe as he removed it without so much as flinching. Data closed and retracted his fist a few times to test if any of his functions had been impacted.

It seemed that while the arrow had gone through his hand, it had failed to hit any major systems.

"You are immune," Tasha remarked in awe.

"Most projectile weapons are incapable of damaging me," Data said.

Her eyes went wide.

She reached for his hand and turned it over, studying the wound.

"You are not injured," she said.

"No," Data replied.

"Are you some kind of titan? Or God?" she asked as she circled him, eyeing him with wonder.

She poked his sides, studied his ears intently, and gripped his bicep.

Although she was a holographic representation of Tasha, Data still did not appreciate being treated in such a manner.

When she knelt down and squeezed his thigh, Data grabbed her by her bow sling and pulled her up to eye level.

"Whoa," she said, glancing down at her feet dangling an inch above the ground.

"I request that you please cease," Data asked politely.

"I've never met anyone as strong as you," she confessed. "You must be a God."

Data was about to explain that he was an android when Deanna spied an opportunity to use this to their advantage.

"Yes, he's the God of Order and Justice," Deanna lied.

"And it is very important that he speak with Master Barclay," Geordi added.

"I'll take you to him," the holographic Tasha offered as she hung there.

Data set her down. She adjusted her sling and instructed them to follow her.

"Bagheera, run ahead and inform Master Barclay that the God of Order and Justice has come to seek his help," Tasha ordered.

The large, black jaguar rushed ahead into the foliage.

Worf glared at Commander Riker as he brought up the rear of the group.

The team journeyed deeper into the greenwood and emerged near a large, clear pool of water.

"It's lovely," Deanna said as she watched the waterfall.

"Bagheera?" the holographic Tasha asked as she approached her jaguar.

He motioned with his head to the rock in the middle of the pond.

None other than Reg Barclay was stretched out upon it.

There was a break in the trees over the pond that allowed the sunshine to dip through and warm the rocks.

He was laid back, his head resting on his folded arms, completely lost in his own world.

"Milord," the holographic Tasha called out.

Using her spear as leverage and some fancy footwork, she leapt off the shoreline and pushed herself across the water, landing on the rock next to where Barclay was laying.

She knelt down and whispered something in his ear.

Barclay sat bolt upright and froze when he saw the team standing at the edge of the water.

"We need to have a talk, Mr Barclay," Riker said.

Reg fainted.

The Goddess of the Hunt caught him before he fell into the water. Throwing him over her shoulder, she waded back through the water and gently deposited him on the beach.

"Perhaps it would be best if there weren't so many of us here when he wakes up?" Deanna suggested as she looked back at Commander Riker.

He got the hint.

It was clear that Barclay found him intimidating and they needed Lieutenant Barclay's help to solve the problem that was plaguing the ship's systems.

"Alright, but I want a plan to ensure that this programme is removed," Riker instructed.

All of a sudden, Captain Picard paged their combadges.

The ship had made a sudden, and unprovoked jump in velocity to warp seven.

"It would seem the matter-antimatter injectors locked for a split-second, our systems here report they now appear to be working properly, and we've now adjusted back to cruising speed," Captain Picard informed them.

Despite the fact that the problem had self-corrected, Captain Picard wanted Lieutenant La Forge to get to work on an explanation for the injector problem immediately.

"Data, meet up with Lieutenant La Forge. I want you to look at this problem as well," Picard commanded.

"Bagheera," the holographic Tasha said as her jaguar began to lick at the unconscious Lieutenant Barclay's face, slobbering all over him.

"Lieutenant La Forge and I will return to Engineering shortly," Data acknowledged.

"On the double," Picard said, displeased that they were not in Main Engineering when so many malfunctions were occurring.

"We'll take care of it soon, sir," Riker promised.

"Ten minutes, sir," Deanna added.

Up on the Bridge, Captain Picard turned to Worf in confusion.

"Where are you lot?" Picard demanded.

He was displeased that so many of his senior officers had seemed to be assembled in one place and not working on finding a solution to their problem. Thus far, he had heard the voices of Data, Tasha, Riker, Geordi, and Deanna.

"We are in Holodeck Two," Data answered.

"Another malfunction?" Picard inquired, hoping for the best.

"Not exactly, but we'll return to Engineering immediately, sir," Geordi assured the Captain.

"Yes. I should say you should, Lieutenant. Your holodeck activities can wait until later," Picard said in a disapproving tone.

The team shared a collective sense of disappointment. They could hear how upset Captain Picard was but knew it wasn't the time or place to correct him.

"Yes, sir," Riker agreed.

He would set the Captain straight later.

"And Lieutenant La Forge? It would be wise to consult with Lieutenant Barclay," Captain Picard said.

"I'd like to very much, Captain," Geordi responded before cutting their communication.

"I'll go set things right with the Captain," Riker said before heading back for the arch.

While Geordi and Data began to discuss possible theories as to the injector malfunction, Deanna reminded the two of them that they were there to help Mr Barclay.

As the three of them debated the best way to proceed, the Goddess of the Hunt pulled his head into her lap. She reached for the cool water of the pond and dropped a little on his face.

Reg stirred and awoke.

"Shhh," she said as she stroked his hair.

"I had the most unusual dream that I was in here and then these, well, people that I-" Reg stammered.

Data, Deanna, and Geordi stopped and turned as they heard Reg's voice.

The Goddess of the Hunt shushed him again and smiled.

"You are safe," she assured him.

Reg sat up and pulled her into a tight embrace.

It was evident from the manner in which they were holding one another that there was a sense of shared familiarity and intimacy between the two – calling into question Deanna's previous opinion that this was largely harmless fantasy.

They broke apart. Deanna was about to say something when to everyone's horror, Barclay moved in for a kiss.

"Mister Barclay," Data said quickly in a commanding voice, stopping them inches from one another.

Barclay froze.

"The God of Order and Justice has come to seek your help," the holographic Tasha said brightly.

Barclay turned around to face the three remaining officers. He felt utterly ashamed.

"I-i-it's not what it looks l-like," Barclay stuttered.

"We're not here to judge you, Reg," Deanna assured him. "We need your help."

She knew that empowering him by reminding him of his skills would prove a successful method for keeping him focused.

"Reg, we've got a serious issue and I need you with me in Engineering," Geordi explained.

"I just couldn't keep my eyes open. I'd worked twelve hours on the power systems and then, then the transporter went down and-" Reg tried to explain. "And I would never, I mean, I didn't. We only kissed. I promise, Commander. I never did anything to-"

"While I do not believe Lieutenant Yar would appreciate the use of her image in this manner, we can discuss that later," Data said.

If Data were being honest with himself, he wasn't much looking forward to breaking the news to Tasha himself.

Over in Sickbay, Beverly was dealing with one very chatty Security Chief.

She had about another twenty minutes to go on the bone knitter. True to form, Tasha was ready to get back to work and insisted that Beverly need not worry about her injuries.

"I'm fine," Tasha insisted as she swayed a little on the table.

"I told you to lie back," Beverly said as she guided her back onto the exam table.

Tasha grumbled as she slumped back against the medical cot.

"You've got a broken femur and you're pumped full of painkillers. There is no way I am clearing you for Bridge duty," Beverly explained.

"This was all my fault," Tasha said.

She'd repeated that a number of times since the meds had kicked in.

"I promised him I was going to be more careful. But it seems like whatever I do, I wind up back here," Tasha lamented in a hazy voice. "You know maybe he's right? Maybe it's just not possible to be in Security and have a family."

"Jack was a Security Officer," Beverly said, hoping to put her friend at ease.

Tasha looked around to ensure no one else was listening and then sat up, leaning in close to Beverly.

"Jack's dead," Tasha whispered as Beverly realised that citing her late husband as an example had perhaps been a poor choice.

Suddenly, Tasha's eyes went wide.

"Sorry," Tasha said quickly.

"It's alright," Beverly said as she pat Tasha's shoulder and encouraged her to lay back down.

Tasha groaned as she rubbed her eyes.

"He just wants the whole family thing so badly and I'm out here getting knocked around like a handball in Parrises Squares," Tasha bemoaned.

"It sounds like this is probably a conversation best had with Counsellor Troi," Beverly said.

She knew that the medication was impacting her friend and that Tasha likely wouldn't want to be caught discussing such a personal matter in the highly public Sickbay.

The doors to Sickbay opened and Captain Picard stepped in sporting a small wound on the side of his temple.

"Captain!" Beverly said as saw him enter.

"It's nothing, just a minor incident with one of the consoles on the Bridge," Picard advised.

"Exam table three. I'll be right there," Beverly instructed as she rushed off to fetch a dermal regenerator.

Captain Picard took a seat on the exam table next to Tasha.

"What happened to you?" Picard asked in a judgmental voice.

He was tired of seeing injury reports on his Security Chief because of her proclivity for dangerous holodeck workouts.

"It's a long story," Tasha said. "But Doctor Crusher assured me that I'll be back up and kicking in time for the Sparring Tournament."

It was the worst possible answer she could have responded with.

When Beverly returned she could feel the anger radiating off the Captain.

Beverly knew it would be best to patch him up quickly – Jean-Luc hated being in Sickbay for any reason.

According to the Captain, the incidents that had been plaguing the ship were beginning to expand into other systems. One of the secondary Tactical consoles had sparked, sending him flying out of the Command Chair and that was how he had bumped his head.

"All set," she assured him a few moments later.

It was only a minor abrasion.

"Lieutenant, once you are healed you and I are going to have a conversation in my Ready Room about your holodeck activities," Picard said in a steely voice. "I am tired of this-" he gestured vaguely at her broken femur, "happening."

Tasha blinked in confusion.

"Sir, I didn't-" Tasha started to say.

"I heard you, Lieutenant," Picard snapped, cutting her off. "And may I just say that I am disappointed in all of you for sloughing off to the holodeck in the middle of a crisis."

With that, Captain Picard turned and marched back to the Bridge leaving a bewildered Tasha in his wake.

Beverly returned a moment later to check on Tasha.

"Are we on the holodeck?" Tasha asked urgently in a hushed voice.

Beverly frowned and put her hand on Tasha's forehead. Delusions could signal an adverse reaction to the painkillers.

"I wonder if you're having a reaction to the medication," Beverly pondered aloud.

Over in Engineering, Geordi, Data, and Barclay arrived to find Sonya Gomez already fast at work looking at the matter/anti-matter injectors.

"Sir, the injectors aren't responding to diagnostic commands," Sonya explained.

"We should drop out of warp," Data advised.

"I'm in complete agreement with you there," Geordi said as he stepped over to the main console to get his bearings.

"La Forge to Bridge," Geordi ordered.

"Go ahead," Worf responded, having been left in command while Captain Picard headed for Sickbay.

"I think we should drop out of warp," Geordi recommended.

"Understood," Worf acknowledged.

Up on the Bridge, he ordered Ensign Crusher to reduce their speed in impulse power.

From the ship overview screen in Engineering, Data and Geordi could see that there had been no reduction in speed.

"Controls are not responding," Data assessed.

A moment later, the Bridge reported in to confirm what they had already known.

"It's the injectors," Sonya described as she watched the readings on her computer console.

"Override," Geordi ordered, stepping over to a backup system.

"I-it's not a computer problem," Barclay said, speaking up.

From his position at the diagnostic console, Reg could see this wasn't a sensor or computer input issue.

"The mechanism is physically jammed. It cannot be cleared automatically or through backups," Barclay explained.

Their speed was increasing. The screen along the wall blipped as the speed monitor registered a change from warp 7.5 to warp 7.6.

"Antimatter flow is increasing," Sonya called out. "We're going to accelerate out of control."

If they couldn't clear the injectors, they would continue to push past the safe maximum speed.

"Approaching warp nine, Engineering please advise," Worf's voice piped in across the coms system.

"At this rate of acceleration, I estimate fifteen minutes forty seconds to structural failure," Data cautioned.

The klaxons began to blare as the Bridge initiated Red Alert.

Geordi glanced around at his team – Sonya, Data, and Barclay.

They were four of the finest minds on the ship and there had to be something they could do.

"Okay, this ship is going to start tearing herself apart any minute. I want everything, every idea on the table. I don't care how outrageous," Geordi said, encouraging them to think big.

"What about attempting a magnetic quench on the fusion pre-burners?" Data suggested.

"I already tried that. The field won't reset," Sonya said.

Her eyes grew wide as she got a spark of motivation.

"Could the fuel inlet servos be caught in cycle?" Sonya proposed.

Geordi glanced down at his screen to confirm and shook his head.

"No, if they were, the swirl dampers would be frozen too. They aren't," he said glumly.

It seemed they were striking out on all fronts.

"There appears to be no problem with the flow, the injectors just seem to be physically jammed," Data said. "Even I could not reach them with the time remaining."

They were exceeding warp 9.2 and inching ever closer to destruction.

"The injectors freeze, anti-grav unit goes down, transporter malfunction, and all this twisted glass," Geordi recounted aloud. "Dammit! What's the connection?"

The computer chimed, alerting them that there was an incoming message from the Bridge.

Captain Picard had returned and resumed command.

"We need to begin an evacuation of the secondary hull and prepare for emergency saucer separation," Picard acknowledged.

It was not an order he wanted to give. And everyone in Engineering understood why – there would be no way to save the individuals in the drive section.

"We are standing by to release docking clamps," Picard explained.

"Sir, the plasma flow to the nacelles is uneven due to injector lock. An emergency saucer separation will rupture the warp field and shake apart the ship under the stress," Data warned.

They had less than ten minutes to structural failure.

"None of these systems are connected. They don't even interact directly with one another. I just don't see any connection," Geordi lamented.

"W-what if there isn't a connection?" Reg suggested.

Everyone stopped.

Geordi shook his head in disbelief. He didn't quite see how that helped.

Reg could see that he was struggling to convey his theory. Summoning all of his courage, he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"We're looking for a systemic explanation but there isn't one. Whatever this is, its something that's being transmitted in a way we can't detect," Reg explained.

"The computer sensors would have picked up on anything dangerous," Sonya said.

"But what if it's not inherently dangerous? What if it's something we can't scan for or don't scan for anymore?" Reg suggested.

Data cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows as he considered this.

"Many of the tissue samples recently brought aboard are hundreds of years old," Data reminded them.

"Computer, list all physical substances that wouldn't normally be picked up by an internal scan," Reg instructed.

Geordi felt a rush of excitement, it seemed like Reg was onto something.

"There are fifteen thousand five hundred and twenty-five known substances that cannot be detected by standard scans," the computer answered.

Reg's shoulders slumped.

"So much for that," he said in a glum voice.

"No, no. I think you're onto something," Geordi said as he crossed over to a different console. "We just need to narrow the parameters."

He looked to Data and Sonya for help.

"Um, how many of those substances can exist in an oxygen atmosphere?" Sonya asked.

"Five hundred and thirty-two," the computer responded, narrowing the field.

Geordi clapped his hands together triumphantly.

"That's great! Alright, what else do we got?" Geordi inquired.

"Computer, how many of these substances could alter molecular structure when it comes into contact with glass?" Data asked.

Everyone held their breath, hoping this would be the clue they had waited for.

"Five," the computer replied.

"Whoo ee!" Geordi cheered. "Now we're in business."

He tapped the LCARs screen and pulled them up for viewing.

"On screen," Geordi said as the team huddled together in an attempt to narrow down their results to identify the culprit.

"Jakmanite has a half-life of fifteen seconds," Barclay said as he scanned the list. "That wouldn't be enough time to spread around the entire ship."

Geordi swiped and removed the first substance from the list.

"Selgninaem and lucovextirin are highly toxic to humanoids," Data reported.

"And since we're not all dead by now we can eliminate them," Geordi said as he removed them from the list.

They were left with saltazgadum and ividium.

"Neither of these has been used for decades," Sonya said.

"Most of these systems weren't even invented when those substances were in use," Barclay added.

"But invidium was used in medical containment fields," Data explained. "Including those on the samples we are transporting."

Data and Geordi glanced at one another.

"And one of the canisters broke," Geordi recalled.

Geordi tapped his communicator and relayed their findings to the Bridge.

"We have a working theory, Captain. There's a good chance we picked up some invidium from the broken canister in the cargo bay. It's likely spread through the ship via the environmental controls," Geordi informed them.

They had less than six minutes before the Enterprise was torn apart. It didn't leave them much time to come up with a solution.

"That's fine, but how do we fix it?" Picard responded a moment later.

Data had already been working through a number of possible solutions.

"We can render the invidium in the injectors inert by flooding the pathway conduit with gaseous cryonetrium," Data proposed. "It will neutralise that substance and allow us to regain control of our velocity."

"Make it so," Picard ordered and not a moment too soon.

From their position in Main Engineering, Geordi and Data were able to quickly implement Data's plan. Sonya activated the release of the gas and after several tense seconds, they were able to seal the injectors and the ship dropped out of warp.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as they saw the speed sensors register that they were now travelling at impulse power.

"How long before the injectors are back online?" Picard inquired.

"They've sustained heavy damage, Captain. I think we'll need to put into a starbase for a complete systems overhaul and bio-decontamination," Geordi said.

"We will be able to deliver the samples to Nahmi IV, although it will take us another sixteen hours at this speed," Data advised.

"Understood," Picard responded. "And well done."

Geordi turned back from the monitor and grinned at the team.

"Nice work, Reg," Geordi praised. "Glad you were here with us."

He slapped Reg on the back.

Data and Geordi would have a long day ahead of them tomorrow. But for the moment, the Enterprise was safe.

"Reg, why don't you get some sleep?" Geordi encouraged.

"T-thank you, sir," Reg nodded.

He made a hasty retreat out the door and down the corridor to the lift.

When the lift doors opened, Reg found himself face-to-face with Commander Riker.

"Mr Barclay," Riker said fondly. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"S-s-sir?" Reg squeaked.

"Come on," Riker said, pulling him into the lift.

"Sir, I wanted to explain and apologise for the incident on the holodeck," Reg said sheepishly.

"Look, I know how easy it is to get caught up in it," Riker assured him. "I fell in love in there once."

"Really?" Reg asked in disbelief.

Riker nodded.

"You know the people I create in there are more real to me than anyone I meet out here," Reg confessed.

"I know exactly how you feel," Riker said with a strange smile.

It felt good for Reg to get that off his chest. Contrary to what he'd imagined, Commander Riker was completely understanding. And it was nice to have someone to open up to.

"I know you're tired, but would you like to grab a drink?" Riker offered.

Having finished up and being quite thoroughly exhausted from listening to Tasha whine about being confined to Sickbay, Beverly had released Tasha to return to her quarters on the promise that she would take it easy.

She had been required to prove to Beverly that she could stand and walk on her own without too much struggle before the Doctor had agreed to let her go.

Tasha gave her cheeky salute before heading for the lift.

When she reached her quarters, Tasha was feeling quite stiff.

She turned on the tap and then limped out into the main room of her quarters to gingerly remove her boots – a more challenging task than anticipated.

Her arm was still tender from the break too and it took considerable effort to try and guide it out of her sleeve.

She paused and leaned against the wall to steady herself for a moment.

Tasha shimmied out of her jumpsuit. Unable to properly step out of it due to her leg, she tried to kick it off.

She lost her balance and toppled toward the floor – a firm hand catching her just inches from the ground.

"Hey," she grinned up at Data.

Data scooped her up and carried her over to the sofa before gently helping her out of her uniform, careful to mind her injured leg.

"Déjà vu," Data commented.

Tasha cocked her head to the side, not quite following his statement.

"I once found Geordi in similar circumstances," Data explained.

Tasha nodded and blinked slowly, swaying slightly from the medication.

"You found Geordi half-naked, high, and about to take a bath?" Tasha asked.

"Yes," Data replied simply, recalling the incident after Geordi's fall on the holodeck.

Tasha laughed.

"Did you help Geordi like this too?" she teased.

"I offered, but Geordi expressed that such an offer would be, in his mind, strange," Data replied honestly.

Tasha giggled as she threw her arms around Data. She meant to gently rest her forehead against his, but because of her lack of motor control she impacted his head rather hard with her own.

"Ouch," she giggled.

"Perhaps it would be best if you were to lie down?" Data suggested.

"I'm not Geordi," Tasha smirked as her fingers closed in around his hair at the base of his neck.

Data sighed in exasperation.

"No, you are not. But I believe you are influenced by the effects of a powerful sedative, and it would be best for you to lie down," Data advised.

Tasha pouted.

"But I wanted to take a bath," she protested. "With you."

She planted a lazy kiss on the side of his face and then closed her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm so glad you didn't melt today," Tasha confessed.

Data picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

He set her down on her side of the bed and assured her he would be back momentarily.

"I'm fine," Tasha said, attempting to get up.

Data put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her and instructed her to lie back down.

"I am going to shut off the tap. You may bathe in the morning when you are more stable," Data ordered.

Tasha could hear from the tone of his voice that he was concerned for her well-being.

"Thank you," Data said as she laid back down.

He left the bedroom and headed for lavvy to shut off the tap.

Data shook his head – she hadn't even remembered to put the plug in the drain. He knelt down and turned off the water and was amused as he felt the temperature.

In her delirious state, she had turned on the cold water.

That would have been a nasty shock! He mused internally.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a large crash from the bedroom.

"I'm fine!" Tasha shouted a second later.

Data closed his eyes and sighed.

It wasn't just that he didn't like seeing her injured – she was the worst patient.

Data returned to the bedroom to find her on the floor. Having attempted to stand, she had lost her balance and taken the contents of her nightstand with her.

Without a word, Data pulled her off the floor and returned her to the bed. Before she could make another move, he slipped in next to her and pulled her against him.

"I will remain until you are able to safely stand on your own," Data said.

Defeated, Tasha snuggled up against him, acknowledging that this was one fight she wasn't going to win.

"I need to take a shower," Tasha argued.

"We will do so in the morning," Data assured her.

Tasha grew unusually quiet, but her breathing pattern did not indicate that she was asleep.

"Tasha?" Data prompted.

"I'm really sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to get hurt again."

"This was not your fault," Data responded as he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"So you're not going to leave?" Tasha asked, worried.

"I have already told you that I will remain, ensuring you do not leave this spot, until you can safely stand on your own," Data answered.

Tasha didn't say anything in response, but Data felt her shoulders slump in disappointment.

Suddenly, the meaning behind her question clicked.

"And no, I am not going to leave you simply because you were injured," Data promised. "Nor because you are a lousy patient."

He kissed the top of her head and felt Tasha relax.

"Now please go to sleep," Data requested.

"You'll still be here? When I wake up?" Tasha asked.

"I am not going anywhere," Data reassured her.

Data closed his eyes and he slowed his processing and allowed himself to relax. They had come alarmingly close to destruction.

"Data?" Tasha asked suddenly. "Were we on the holodeck today?"

Data's eyes flew open.

It was a question Tasha had been meaning to ask ever since her strange conversation with Captain Picard.

"That is a matter of protracted discussion," Data responded.

A few weeks later, things on the Enterprise were progressing well. They had completed their bio-decontamination, Tasha's leg had healed, and Data and Tasha were doing well in their couple's sessions with Deanna.

Tasha had agreed to be more cautious about her training and Data was taking some important steps of his own – including selecting a birthday for himself.

Even Reg Barclay seemed to be finding his place aboard the ship. With help from Counsellor Troi and the support of the other officers, Reg was slowly working on cutting his addiction to the holodeck.

Most importantly, he was learning to enjoy adventures with real friends rather than the holographic images of others.

At Deanna's instance, there was just one loose end to wrap up.

Reg stepped through the arch and into a smoky room.

At the front of the joint, Mob Boss Picard to Pincer was seated around a table with his right-hand man, Number One. The Devious Doctor was at Picard's side, puffing away at her long cigarette holder.

His bodyguard, Mr Worf was standing guard a metre away.

Deanna the dancer was onstage, flipping her hair and waving as Barclay entered.

Behind the bar, one of his allies was pouring a drink.

Madame Guinan nodded, acknowledging that Barclay wanted his usual.

At a corner table, Barclay spied three amigos – a trio of mad scientists that were reluctant allies in Barclay's efforts to stop Picard.

There was the Chief, a gritty Irish engineer responsible for producing some of the most dangerous weapons Barclay had ever seen.

His associate, Shortfuse, was a crafty scientist with a proclivity for pyrotechnics and a specialised vision-aid that gave him the ability to scan through walls.

Lastly, there was Old Yellow Eyes. He was more machine than man. Brilliant but dangerous. And always scheming about new ways to infiltrate Picard's forces.

Reg spotted a familiar blonde at the bar.

She turned around, a neat whiskey in hand, and put her hand in her pocket as she pushed back the coat of her tuxedo.

"Agent Barclay," she greeted as rested casually against the bar.

"Natasha," Barclay responded as he adjusted the collar of his tux.

He had dressed for the occasion.

Barclay grabbed a holographic martini from Guinan and stepped onstage.

He raised his hand to silence the crowd as the music died behind him.

"It has been most difficult for me to reach this decision," Barclay announced. "But I am afraid that I must leave you."

A murmur rippled through the holographic crowd.

"After thinking about and discussing the matter at length with Counsellor Troi, I think its for the best," Reg went on.

He scanned the room and felt terrible as he saw the disappointed looks from the holographic companions that had embraced him.

"I just wanted to thank you all for your support," Barclay said.

It may have seemed ridiculous, but he truly did see these characters as friends. And it was hard to say goodbye.

"You'll always be welcome here, Agent Barclay," Geordi called out.

"That's why it is so difficult to leave," Reg confessed.

"It was a pleasure to serve with you," Data said.

"You have been a worthy adversary," Picard admitted, raising his glass to the man.

"Good luck, Agent Barclay," Natasha said, joining the toast.

Reg took one long, final look at his holographic friends.

"Goodbye," he said, raising his glass to them. "Computer, end programme."

It was bittersweet to watch them disappear as the room vanished and Reg found himself standing alone in his tuxedo.

"Computer, erase all programmes filed under Reginald Barclay," he ordered.

He turned to leave and stopped.

"Except programme nine," Reg said quickly.